World without Stars by Poul Anderson Page A

gray blocks.
     We passed through an archway into a room. It was too broad and feebly lit for me to see the end, although I had my goggles
     on. Most of the floor was occupied by a pool. I conjectured rightly that this place must connect with the lake by submarine
     passages.
    The downdevils lay in the water.
    A physical description would sound like any amphibious race. They were pinnipeds of a sort, about twice the length and several
     times the bulk of men. The sleek heads were notable chiefly for the eyes: not so large as those of the bipeds, a very beautiful
     luminous chalcedony in color. Evolution had modified the spine so that they could sit up when on land. And I suppose the front
     limbs had developed digits from internal bones: because what I saw was a flipper with four clumsy fingers.
    The sea doesn’t often bring forth intelligence. But underspecial circumstances it can happen. The dolphins of Earth were a famous example. If they had gained the ability to go ashore,
     to travel cross country in however awkward a fashion, who knows what they might have become? I think the environmental challenge
     that brought forth the Ai Chun occurred billions of years ago. As the planet lost hydrosphere—which happened slowly indeed,
     under so chill a sun; but remember how old this world was—more and more dry land emerged. With so many ages behind it, the
     life that then, step by step, took possession, was not modified fish as on Earth. It was life already air-breathing, with
     high metabolism and well-developed nervous system. New conditions stimulated further development—you don’t need hard radiation
     for mutation to occur; thermal quantum processes will do the same less rapidly. At last the Ai Chun came into being.
    I think too that there was once a satellite, large and close, which lit the nights until finally the sun’s field, intense
     at this short remove, perturbed it away. Or maybe the Ai Chun evolved when the planet had a permanent dayside. For their eyes
     Weren’t well adapted to the long nights they now faced. They had substituted firelight for the optic evolution that had taken
     place in younger species. Perhaps this is the reason they hated and feared the galaxy. In the day sky it was invisible to
     them, but on alternate nights it ruled the darkness.
    All that is for the paleontologists to decide. And it happened so long ago that the evidence may have vanished.
    What mattered to Yo Rorn and me, confronting those two beings, was their words. They did not deign to speak directly. They
     would have had trouble using the Yonder language anyway. The dwarf opened his mouth, moved his arms, and said:
    “Through this creature we address you, as we have already observed you from afar. You are kin to those which dwelt here for
     a space, numerous years ago, claiming to be from above, correct?”
    “There is no blood relationship,” I said. My heartbeat knocked in my ears. “But you and we and they, like the Niao and the
     hill people, are thinking animals. I believe this is more important than our bodily shapes.”
    Gianyi made an appalled hiss. “Have you forgotten whom you speak to?” he cried.
    “No offense intended,” I said, wondering what local custom I’d violated. “Since you have followed our discussions with your
     … your servants, you know we are ignorant and need help. In exchange we offer friendship as well as material rewards.”
    “Say further,” commanded the Ai Chun.
    They drew me out with some extremely shrewd questions. They had forgotten little of what the Yonderfolk had evidently told
     them. I explained our background, I spoke of the galaxy, its size and distance, the millions of worlds and the powerful races
     which inhabited them— Why did the scribes, the will-less dwarf himself, cringe?
    Sweat glistened on Rorn’s skin. “You’re telling them the wrong things,” he said.
    “I know,” I answered. “But what’s the right thing?” I dropped hand to gun—started