The Draco Tavern Part 1

THE DRACO TAVERN.

by Larry Niven.

INTRODUCTION.

When I dreamed up the Draco Tavern, my intent was to deal with questions of a certain type.

I'm a science fiction writer, after all. I'm supposed to be able to deal with questions of huge import. In addition, I'm good at vignettes and I wanted to get better. I wanted a format in which to deal with the simplest, most universal questions. G.o.d. Intelligent predators and prey. s.e.x, gender, reproduction. War. Human destiny. Species survival. Immortality. Ultimate computers. The destiny of the universe. Interspecies commerce. How alien minds think and how to cope with that and them.

The interspecies gathering place is not a new concept, but a h.o.a.ry old tradition, much older than the Mos Eisley s.p.a.ceport bar. I decided I could make it fit.

DRACO TAVERN HISTORY.

For most of the stories, a.s.sume that the Tavern is roughly thirty years old, and the date is in the 2030s.

At some near-future date-say two years from whenever you're reading any given story-a tremendous s.p.a.cecraft arrived and took up orbit around Earth's Moon. Smaller boats, landers, came down along the lines of Earth's magnetic field, near the North Pole. It's something about how the motors work. (Maybe they looked Antarctica over too, but n.o.body came there to talk.) They set up their permanent s.p.a.ceport at Mount Forel in Siberia.

Negotiations with the United Nations got them certain concessions. A few people grew conspicuously rich from the secrets they learned from talking to aliens. Siberia and the UN had to restrict access to Mount Forel and create subsystems to support both alien and human visitors. A town grew up around Mount Forel.

Rick Schumann grew rich from a Chirpsithra secret. He then established a tavern able to serve various species of visiting alien. Over the years and decades since, the Tavern expanded its size and its capabilities.

The Tavern features huge storage facilities; foodstuffs and drinkstuffs for a growing number of species, kept carefully categorized; floating tables, when needed; high chairs if a short species wants face-to-face with a Chirp; privacy s.h.i.+elds (to throttle sounds leaking across the border around any table); universal translators (which will turn out to be intelligent minds themselves, if I ever get around to writing the story); a variety of toilets (never yet described); universal plugs for computers and other human and alien machinery; and whatever else I think of. In stories set earlier, the Tavern is smaller and more primitive.

The only face always to be seen at the Draco Tavern is Rick Schumann's.

Rick's service staff are usually scientists of various kinds, often anthropologists. (There's no better way to learn what a human being is than by studying what we are not.) When they've learned enough, they go off and publish, or they found a business based on what they've learned. Mount Forel isn't a center of culture, after all, not a place to stay forever. Except to Rick.

Human visitors may be scientists of great variety, astronauts (whose s.h.i.+ps are Chirpsithra-designed), media (under heavy restriction), workers from Mount Forel s.p.a.ceport, or anyone who can talk his way in.

The s.h.i.+ps come and go. They move at just less than lightspeed. Probably no individual alien will be seen more than once in this century. A few species do regularly show up in the background: Chirpsithra or or Chirps Chirps are the crew and the builders of interstellar s.p.a.cecraft. Not everything is known about the Chirpsithra; they keep many secrets. They evolved on a world orbiting close to a red dwarf star. Half the stars in the galaxy are red dwarves, and most of their worlds are claimed by the Chirpsithra. When a Chirp says that the Chirpsithra own the galaxy, she means those; she doesn't mean Earth. are the crew and the builders of interstellar s.p.a.cecraft. Not everything is known about the Chirpsithra; they keep many secrets. They evolved on a world orbiting close to a red dwarf star. Half the stars in the galaxy are red dwarves, and most of their worlds are claimed by the Chirpsithra. When a Chirp says that the Chirpsithra own the galaxy, she means those; she doesn't mean Earth.

Chirpsithra claim to be billions of years civilized (that is, capable of s.p.a.ce travel).

The only sin they've exposed in public is the sparker: a device that sends current between a Chirpsithra's digits. It makes them appear drunk. Rick keeps lots of sparkers around for them.

Their language: Lottl.

They all look pretty much alike, except for some very old (not so evolved) individuals. They're salmon red, exoskeletal like lobsters; they stand eleven feet tall and weigh one hundred and twenty pounds. The elderly are shorter, with a graying sh.e.l.l; see "The Green Marauder." They're all female. Nothing is known about the males, though it seems clear they exist.

Gligst.i.th(click)optok are gray and compact beings skilled at biological sciences. Dealing with them is chancy: see "a.s.similating Our Culture" and "The Wisdom of Demons." are gray and compact beings skilled at biological sciences. Dealing with them is chancy: see "a.s.similating Our Culture" and "The Wisdom of Demons."

Folk look something like wolves with their heads on upside down. (Their world never evolved predator birds.) Socially they're hunters, and great travelers. Rick hunted with them in "Folk Tale." look something like wolves with their heads on upside down. (Their world never evolved predator birds.) Socially they're hunters, and great travelers. Rick hunted with them in "Folk Tale."

There are others. New aliens appear in almost every story.

Many aliens need environment gear. Some of the tables offer minimal protection, an altered atmosphere, different lighting. For some customers that's sufficient. Some need full body armor, or rolling fishbowls, etc. Chirps don't need anything but ruby sungla.s.ses. Any life-form's ideal environment (including food and drink; see "The Real Thing") can be described by five symbols. For humans it's "Tee tee hatch nex ool," written as Tr#, and I don't know what the other symbols look like.

Beyond this, I hope the stories will speak for themselves.

THE SUBJECT IS CLOSED.

We get astronauts in the Draco Tavern. We get workers from Mount Forel s.p.a.ceport, and some administrators, and some newsmen. We get Chirpsithra; I keep sparkers to get them drunk and chairs to fit their tall, spindly frames. Once in a while, we get other aliens.

But we don't get many priests.

So I noticed him when he came in. He was young and round and harmless looking. His expression was a model of its kind: open, willing to be friendly, not nervous, but very alert. He stared a bit at two bulbous aliens in s.p.a.ce suits who had come in with a Chirpsithra guide.

I watched him invite himself to join a trio of Chirpsithra. They seemed willing to have him. They like human company. He even had the foresight to snag one of the high chairs I spread around, high enough to bring a human face to Chirpsithra level.

Someone must have briefed him, I decided. He'd know better than to do anything gauche. So I forgot him for a while.

An hour later he was at the bar, alone. He ordered a beer and waited until I'd brought it. He said, "You're Rick Schumann, aren't you? The owner?"

"That's right. And you?"

"Father David Hopkins." He hesitated, then blurted, "Do you trust the Chirpsithra?" He had trouble with the word.

I said, "Depends on what you mean. They don't steal the salt shakers. And they've got half a dozen reasons for not wanting to conquer the Earth."

He waved that aside. Larger things occupied his mind. "Do you believe the stories they tell? That they rule the galaxy? That they're aeons old?"

"I've never decided. At least they tell entertaining stories. At most ... You didn't call a Chirpsithra a liar, did you?"

"No, of course not." He drank deeply of his beer. I was turning away when he said, "They said they know all about life after death."

"Ye G.o.ds. I've been talking to Chirpsithra for twenty years, but that's a new one. Who raised the subject?"

"Oh, one of them asked me about the, uh, uniform. It just came up naturally." When I didn't say anything, he added, "Most religious elders seem to be just ignoring the Chirpsithra. And the other intelligent beings too. I want to know. Do they have souls?"

"Do they?"

"He didn't say."

"She," I told him. "All Chirpsithra are female."

He nodded, not as if he cared much. "I started to tell her about my order. But when I started talking about Jesus, and about salvation, she told me rather firmly that the Chirpsithra know all they want to know on the subject of life after death."

"So then you asked-"

"No, sir, I did not. I came over here to decide whether I'm afraid to ask."

I gave him points for that. "And are you?" When he didn't answer I said, "It's like this. I can stop her at any time you like. I know how to apologize gracefully."

Only one of the three spoke English, though the others listened as if they understood it.

"I don't know," she said.

That was clearly the answer Hopkins wanted. "I must have misunderstood," he said, and he started to slip down from his high chair.

"I told you that we know as much as we want to know on the subject," said the alien. "Once there were those who knew more. They tried to teach us. Now we try to discourage religious experiments."

Hopkins slid back into his chair. "What were they? Chirpsithra saints?"

"No. The Sheegupt were carbon-water-oxygen life, like you and me, but they developed around the hot F-type suns in the galactic core. When our own empire had expanded near enough to the core, they came to us as missionaries. We rejected their pantheistic religion. They went away angry. It was some thousands of years before we met again.

"By then our settled regions were in contact, and had even interpenetrated to some extent. Why not? We could not use the same planets. We learned that their erstwhile religion had broken into variant sects and was now stagnant, giving way to what you would call agnosticism. I believe the implication is that the agnostic does not know the nature of G.o.d, and does not believe you do either?"

I looked at Hopkins, who said, "Close enough."

"We established a trade in knowledge and in other things. Their skill at educational toys exceeded ours. Some of our foods were dietetic to them; they had taste but could not be metabolized. We mixed well. If my tale seems sketchy or superficial, it is because I never learned it in great detail. Some details were deliberately lost.

"Over a thousand years of contact, the Sheegupt took the next step beyond agnosticism. They experimented. Some of their research was no different from your own psychological research, though of course they reached different conclusions. Some involved advanced philosophies: attempts to extrapolate G.o.d from Her artwork, so to speak. There were attempts to extrapolate other universes from altered laws of physics, and to contact the extrapolated universes. There were attempts to contact the dead. The Sheegupt kept us informed of the progress of their work. They were born missionaries, even when their religion was temporarily in abeyance."

Hopkins was fascinated. He would hardly be shocked at attempts to investigate G.o.d. After all, it's an old game.

"We heard, from the Sheegupt outpost worlds, that the scientifically advanced worlds in the galactic core had made some kind of breakthrough. Then we started losing contact with the Sheegupt," said the Chirpsithra.

"Trade s.h.i.+ps found no shuttles to meet them. We sent investigating teams. They found Sheegupt worlds entirely depopulated. The inhabitants had made machinery for the purpose of suicide, generally a combination of electrocution terminals and conveyor belts. Some Sheegupt had used knives on themselves, or walked off buildings, but most had queued up at the suicide machines, as if in no particular hurry."

I said, "Sounds like they learned something, all right. But what?"

"Their latest approach, according to our records, was to extrapolate rational models of a life after death, then attempt contact. But they may have gone on to something else. We do not know."

Hopkins shook his head. "They could have found out there wasn't a life after death. No, they couldn't, could they? If they didn't find anything, it might be they were only using the wrong model."

I said, "Try it the other way around. There is a Heaven, and it's wonderful, and everyone goes there. Or there is a h.e.l.l, and it gets more unpleasant the older you are when you die."

"Be cautious in your guesses. You may find the right answer," said the Chirpsithra. "The Sheegupt made no attempt to hide their secret. It must have been an easy answer, capable of reaching even simple minds, and capable of proof. We know this because many of our investigating teams sought death in groups. Even millennia later, there was suicide among those who probed through old records, expecting no more than a fascinating puzzle in ancient history. The records were finally destroyed."

After I closed up for the night, I found Hopkins waiting for me outside.

"I've decided you were right," he said earnestly. "They must have found out there's a Heaven and it's easy to get in. That's the only thing that could make that many people want to be dead. Isn't it?"

But I saw that he was wringing his hands without knowing it. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything.

I told him, "I think you tried to preach at the Chirpsithra. I don't doubt you were polite about it, but that's what I think happened. And they closed the subject on you."

He thought it over, then nodded jerkily. "I guess they made their point. What would I know about Chirpsithra souls?"

"Yeah. But they spin a good yarn, don't they?"

GRAMMAR LESSON.

It was the most casual of remarks. It happened because one of my Chirpsithra customers s.h.i.+fted her chair as I was setting the sparker on her table. When I tried to walk away something tugged at my pants leg.

"The leg of your chair has pinned my pants," I told her in Lottl.

She and her two companions chittered at each other. Chirpsithra laughter. She moved the chair. I walked away, somewhat miffed, wondering what had made her laugh at me.

She stopped me when next I had occasion to pa.s.s her table. "Your pardon for my rudeness. You used intrinsic 'you' and 'my,' instead of extrinsic. As if your pants are part of you and my chair a part of me. I was taken by surprise."

"I've been studying Lottl for almost thirty years," I answered, "but I don't claim I've mastered it yet. After all, it is an alien language. There are peculiar variations even between human languages."

"We have noticed. 'Pravda' means 'official truth.' 'Pueblo' means 'village, considered as a population.' And all of your languages seem to use one possessive for all purposes. My arm, my husband, my mother," she said, using the intrinsic "my" for her arm, the "my" of property for her husband, and the "my" of relations.h.i.+p for her mother.

"I always get those mixed up," I admitted. "Why, for instance, the possessive for your husband? Never mind," I said hastily, before she could get angry. There was some big secret about the Chirpsithra males. You learned not to ask. "I don't see the difference as being that important."

"It was important once," she said. "There is a tale we teach every immature Chirpsithra...."

By human standards, and by the Chirpsithra standards of the time, it was a mighty empire. Today the Chirpsithra rule the habitable worlds of every red dwarf star in the galaxy-or so they claim. Then, their empire was a short segment of one curving arm of the galactic whirlpool. But it had never been larger.

The Chirpsithra homeworld had circled a red dwarf sun. Such stars are as numerous as all other stars put together. The Chirpsithra worlds numbered in the tens of thousands, yet they were not enough. The empire expanded outward and inward. Finally-it was inevitable-it met another empire.

"The knowledge that thinking beings come in many shapes, this knowledge was new to us," said my customer. Her face was immobile; built like a voodoo mask scaled down. No hope of reading expression there. But she spoke depreciatingly. "The Ilwan were short and broad, with lumpy gray skins. Their hands were clumsy, their noses long and mobile and dexterous. We found them unpleasantly homely. Perhaps they thought the same of us."

So there was war from the start, a war in which six worlds and many fleets of s.p.a.cecraft died before ever the Ilwan and the Chirpsithra tried to talk to each other.

Communication was the work of computer programmers of both species. The diplomats got into it later. The problem was simple and basic.

The Ilwan wanted to keep expanding. The Chirpsithra were in the way.

Both species had evolved for red dwarf sunlight. They used worlds of about one terrestrial ma.s.s, a little colder, with oxygen atmospheres.

"A war of extermination seemed likely," said the Chirpsithra. She brushed her thumbs along the contacts of the sparker, once and again. Her speech slowed, became more precise. "We made offers, of course. A vacant region to be established between the two empires; each could expand along the opposite border. This would have favored the Ilwan, as they were nearer the star-crowded galactic core. They would not agree. When they were sure that we would not vacate their their worlds ..." She used the intrinsic possessive, and paused to be sure I'd seen the point. worlds ..." She used the intrinsic possessive, and paused to be sure I'd seen the point.