the equipment you are allowed to use, but still a slave..."
Instinctively Martin stepped back as one of the being's enormous hands swung toward him. But it stopped a few inches from his chin with one digit pointing at the Federation symbol on his collar.
"... Is that the emblem of your Master?"
His first thought was to strenuously deny that he was any kind of slave, and his second was to wonder what new complication would be the result of that denial. But the Federation was, in real terms, his master, as it was the master of all of its non-Citizens.
"Yes," he said again.
The Teldin turned its hand, which was still only a few inches from Martin's face, to display a bracelet on its thick, furry wrist. The bracelet supported a flat oval of metal on which an intricate design had been worked in several colors.
"Like mine," the Teldin said, "your mark of ownership is small, tasteful, inconspicuous as bents a slave in a position of trust and responsibility. But why did you ignore or evade the questions which would quickly have established your status?"
"I was unsure of your own status," Martin replied truthfully.
He remembered their tutor telling them again and again that in an alien contact situation they must always tell the truth, although not necessarily all of it at once. Measured doses of the truth gave rise to much fewer complications than well-meant diplomatic lies.
"I don't like what I'm hearing," Beth said. "The Federation does not approve of slavery or any form of-"
"Now I understand," the Teldin said before she could go on. "You thought I might be a Master and were being circumspect. Like the other passers by, I thought you were a Master and could not, therefore, speak first. But contact between ourselves and an other-world species would seem to be a project too important to be entrusted to a slave, regardless of its level of ability. My position forbids me saying anything which is directly critical of your Master, or any Master, but it seems to me that it would be more fitting if-if..."
"My Master did the work itself?" Martin asked.
"That was my thought exactly," the Teldin said.
Martin thought about their tutor and its enormous, sprawling body, and of the sheer size and complexity of any mobile life-support system capable of accommodating it, and he thought of that species' immense lifespan. Carefully, and truthfully, he said, "My remarks should not be considered in any way critical or disloyal, but my Master is grossly overweight, very old, and has other projects demanding of its time and available energy."
"Since we are speaking face to face I can accept this information as factual until I have been instructed otherwise by my Master," the Teldin said, and the sudden change in its manner was unmistakable. It added, "But my Master will not accept anything you say."
"For this reason," Martin persisted, "I have been instructed to land on this world and gather information about your species and its culture so that my Master will know whom to approach with the initial offers of friendship and exchanges of knowledge."
"Your Master seems lacking in sensitivity and intelligence," the Teldin said, this time without any apology.
"Your Master might just as well have sent a radio transmitting and receiving device."
"That has already been tried," Martin said, "without success."
"Naturally," the Teldin said.
The situation had gone sour, there could be no doubt about that. The impression given by the Teldin was that it belonged to an intensely status-conscious slave culture in which the Masters spoke only to other Masters or to God, and when a Master spoke to a slave, the slave had to believe everything it was told and, presumably, disbelieve everything it had been told earlier by a lowlier being.
This is crazy, thought Martin. "What would have been your reaction if I'd been a Master?"
"Had you been a Master," the Teldin replied, "I would not have been able to give you any information until
Instinctively Martin stepped back as one of the being's enormous hands swung toward him. But it stopped a few inches from his chin with one digit pointing at the Federation symbol on his collar.
"... Is that the emblem of your Master?"
His first thought was to strenuously deny that he was any kind of slave, and his second was to wonder what new complication would be the result of that denial. But the Federation was, in real terms, his master, as it was the master of all of its non-Citizens.
"Yes," he said again.
The Teldin turned its hand, which was still only a few inches from Martin's face, to display a bracelet on its thick, furry wrist. The bracelet supported a flat oval of metal on which an intricate design had been worked in several colors.
"Like mine," the Teldin said, "your mark of ownership is small, tasteful, inconspicuous as bents a slave in a position of trust and responsibility. But why did you ignore or evade the questions which would quickly have established your status?"
"I was unsure of your own status," Martin replied truthfully.
He remembered their tutor telling them again and again that in an alien contact situation they must always tell the truth, although not necessarily all of it at once. Measured doses of the truth gave rise to much fewer complications than well-meant diplomatic lies.
"I don't like what I'm hearing," Beth said. "The Federation does not approve of slavery or any form of-"
"Now I understand," the Teldin said before she could go on. "You thought I might be a Master and were being circumspect. Like the other passers by, I thought you were a Master and could not, therefore, speak first. But contact between ourselves and an other-world species would seem to be a project too important to be entrusted to a slave, regardless of its level of ability. My position forbids me saying anything which is directly critical of your Master, or any Master, but it seems to me that it would be more fitting if-if..."
"My Master did the work itself?" Martin asked.
"That was my thought exactly," the Teldin said.
Martin thought about their tutor and its enormous, sprawling body, and of the sheer size and complexity of any mobile life-support system capable of accommodating it, and he thought of that species' immense lifespan. Carefully, and truthfully, he said, "My remarks should not be considered in any way critical or disloyal, but my Master is grossly overweight, very old, and has other projects demanding of its time and available energy."
"Since we are speaking face to face I can accept this information as factual until I have been instructed otherwise by my Master," the Teldin said, and the sudden change in its manner was unmistakable. It added, "But my Master will not accept anything you say."
"For this reason," Martin persisted, "I have been instructed to land on this world and gather information about your species and its culture so that my Master will know whom to approach with the initial offers of friendship and exchanges of knowledge."
"Your Master seems lacking in sensitivity and intelligence," the Teldin said, this time without any apology.
"Your Master might just as well have sent a radio transmitting and receiving device."
"That has already been tried," Martin said, "without success."
"Naturally," the Teldin said.
The situation had gone sour, there could be no doubt about that. The impression given by the Teldin was that it belonged to an intensely status-conscious slave culture in which the Masters spoke only to other Masters or to God, and when a Master spoke to a slave, the slave had to believe everything it was told and, presumably, disbelieve everything it had been told earlier by a lowlier being.
This is crazy, thought Martin. "What would have been your reaction if I'd been a Master?"
"Had you been a Master," the Teldin replied, "I would not have been able to give you any information until
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