Sirian n. 2

The captain stared bewilderedly at the screen. There was a ship in focus there. It was quite obviously the Sirian and, just as obviously, it was following them. [...] A roaring, abusive voice flooded the control room immediately. The one word understandable to the captain was ‘Venture.’ It was repeated frequently, sometimes as if it were a question. ‘Sirian!’ said the captain. ‘Can you understand them?’ he asked Maleen.

The Captive had been a genial and willing subject. After the psychologist had learned from him enough about the Sirian tongue and the Sirian culture to transliterate his instruments for the Captive’s use, Manazetti tested him. The results were precisely as expected: he had exactly the intelligence that Culpepper and his crew of evolutionary experts had predicted would be normal for the biological level of the Sirian body-form.

Mowry wondered what on earth a wert might be. He’d never heard the word before and dared not ask its meaning. It might be more than an item of local jargon, perhaps a slang word added to the Sirian language during the years he had been away. It wouldn’t be wise to admit ignorance of it.

‘Just call him “the Sirian”, will you? Anyway, he has a funny way of talking.’ ‘Perhaps that lies in my computation, Man Forrester. The Sirian language is tenseless and quasi-Boolean. I have taken the liberty of translating it into approximately 20th-century English modes of speech, but if you wish I can give you a more liberal rendering, or—’ ‘No, it’s not that. He seems to have something on his mind.’

Up and up... I thought that I would not easily make such a climb again, not that day—but when I reached the very top, I found a doorway that was curtained in thick dark red material, and on it a flake of writing ceramic that had on it the one word, in Sirian: Welcome.