Diuturnity's Dawn (15 page)

“That’s quite an accusation, Pilwondepat.”

“I assure you, my friend, that it is not made lightly.”

Cullen nodded, more to himself than to the thranx. “I hardly know what to say. I’m an exoarcheologist. I’m someone who’s at home below ground level, not in the rarified atmosphere of interstellar intrigue.”

“Say that you’ll study the recording device, and consider its contents.” To his satisfaction, Pilwondepat saw that the biped was doing that already. “And you must not discuss this meeting with Riimadu, or let on in any way that we have talked about such things.”

“I won’t. I promise. Just for the sake of discussion, though—why not? You don’t think he’d do anything, do you? He’s an exoarcheologist, just like you and me. He’s completely absorbed in the excavation we’re undertaking here atop this escarpment.”

“Riimadu is AAnn. He is absorbed in promoting himself foremost, yes, but he is also part of the web that his kind are attempting to weave around this world. Step lightly in his presence, and have a care you are not unwittingly caught in that snare.” One more time, Pilwondepat indicated the sphere. “There are already enough unpleasant statistics recorded on that device. I would hate to see you, my friend, become another.”

“Now you’re being overly dramatic.”

“Am I,
chirritt
? Peruse the molly. Then decide.”

Cullen looked unhappy. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Pilwondepat. Not without having a look at that molly. But a conspiracy on that scale is hard to envision.”

“The AAnn would not say conspiracy. They would say ‘diplomacy.’ Their definitions are somewhat rougher than yours or ours.”

The exoarcheologist rose from behind his desk and began pacing parallel to the back wall of the room. “For the sake of discussion, let’s say there’s something to your assertions. What am I supposed to do with Riimadu? I can’t just kick him off the dig. His government expects him to be here, recording and observing. He has authorization.”

Pilwondepat gestured with both truhands. “You are in charge of the project. Exercise that authority. Find an excuse. Say that it’s for his own benefit. Or propose that he enjoy the break from work that his hard labor has earned him. There are ways.”

“I know; I know.” Cullen’s discomfort level was rising with every moment. “But it’s going to be difficult. If not for his suggestions, we wouldn’t even be digging here.” He halted suddenly to stare down at the thranx. “How about that, Pilwondepat? If there’s some widespread intrigue on the part of the AAnn, why would one of them point out what could prove to be an important archeological site? Why not direct us elsewhere and keep the site discovery quiet until they can excavate on their own?”

Air whistled softly through Pilwondepat’s spicules. It was important to be patient with this human, he reminded himself. Sometimes they failed to make out certain aspects of the world around them until it landed on their heads. And they had experienced only a comparatively few years of contact with the AAnn, as opposed to the hundreds the thranx had been compelled to endure. They could not be expected to understand right away.

But somehow, he had to make at least one of them in a position of some importance learn to
see
. For a number of reasons, not least that he knew and worked with him, he had chosen the one called Cullen Karasi.

“Why not let you provide the muscle power and equipment and do the work for them? If their ultimate aim is to ease you off the planet, what you do here will not matter. It’s not as if you are attempting to ascertain the existence of an enormous body of valuable ore. It’s only pure science. From my studies, I believe that pure science does not command many votes on your world council.”

“You’re quite the cynic, Pilwondepat.”

Antennae bobbed. “All thranx are realists, Cullen. When you come from a society where in primitive times every individual knew their entire life’s work from birth, you have no choices.”

The human nodded slowly, another gesture Pilwondepat recognized. Humans preferred broad, easy-to-read gestures that rarely displayed the subtlety of the AAnn. There was not much there to admire, but it made for ready understanding.

Ceasing his pacing, Cullen resumed his seat behind the field desk. “All right. Let’s have a look at this accumulated ‘evidence’ of yours.” Picking up the molly, he dropped it into the appropriate receptacle on top of his desk reader. Images appeared in the air in front of him.

Though he wanted to comment on every picture, every article, Pilwondepat forced himself to hold his peace. Interrupting the already skeptical Cullen would break the human’s concentration and prevent him from absorbing the full impact of the thranx’s research. It was important that the man not blindly accept Pilwondepat’s accusations, but that he draw his own conclusions directly from the available evidence. So Pilwondepat sat in silence, not moving except for the familiar involuntary weaving of his antennae, and tried not to stare.

Half an hour later, Cullen switched off the viewer and sat back in his chair. “It’s disturbing. I’ll give you that. Some of it is unsettling, even. But it’s not conclusive.”

“Will you at least agree that it is worthy of further examination?”

Cullen might be skeptical, but he was not stupid. A trained scientist, he could not ignore evidence when it was laid out before him. “Yes, I’m afraid that it is. I just don’t think I’m the one to pursue it.” He indicated the viewer. “This sort of thing needs to be distributed to the supervising colonial authority, not somebody involved in research, like myself. Why did you show it to me instead of taking it directly to them?” he finished curiously.

“Because it will have more force coming from you,” Pilwondepat explained. “Too many of your people shy away from contact with my kind. Others are instinctively suspicious, and there are also those who are openly hostile. Had I been the one to lay this evidence directly before the most relevant human authority, I might well have been dismissed without a hearing. Or I might have been received politely, only to have the data tossed into the nearest disposal as soon as I departed. But if you, a recognized figure of some stature within your chosen specialty, make a presentation on its behalf, you will be listened to; and the documentation, if not instantly acknowledged, will at least be discussed.” He dropped to all sixes again. “You will make such a presentation, Cullen? I did not invent the collusions you just viewed. They are as real as the rock we are standing upon. As are the intentions of the AAnn.”

The human scratched at the back of his head. “You’re putting me in a very awkward position, Pilwondepat. Especially as regards Riimadu’s continued presence on the site. There are a lot more AAnn on Comagrave than there are thranx.”

“A consequence of an unfortunate climate, but I sympathize with your circumstances. Consider that being dead would put you in a much more difficult position.”

“Regardless of what his Imperial brethren may be up to, I’m not sure I can accept your portrait of Riimadu. He’s been nothing but helpful ever since he was attached to the project. We talk science all the time, and I really do see him as a kindred spirit, albeit one covered with scales. It’s very hard for me to envision him participating in some kind of hostile activity, much less one that might prove antiscientific.”

Pilwondepat executed a complicated gesture that Cullen did not understand, which was probably just as well. “Whatever you think, whatever occurs in his presence, all I ask is that you never forget that he is AAnn.
Yi!mt,
he is a scientist.
Yi!mt,
he has been helpful. But if the appropriate situation presents itself, I can assure you from the bottom of my individual and racial hearts that he will put a weapon to the side of your skull and without a second thought, blow your brains out through your opposite ear.”

He’d gone a little too far, Pilwondepat saw. In his anxiety to persuade his friend of the danger he had uncovered, he had stepped beyond the bounds of courtesy and diplomacy that Cullen was willing to accept. It was as visible in the human’s rubbery face as if it had been written there with an antique stylus.

“Do this, then,” he added quickly. “Leave Riimadu alone. Let him do his work. I’ll watch him myself. I do it anyway, out of a historical sense of self-preservation. But convey my findings to the appropriate planetary authority. Relate what I have concluded, give your own opinion, and let them view the facts that are known. If you will do that much, I will be able to sleep a little easier knowing that something is being done.”

Cullen willingly agreed. “I’ll send off a copy of the information together with my personal comments right away. Tonight, if you think it that important.”

“No, no!” Four hands waved frantically at the taller human. “Nothing can be sent via the planetary communications net. I would bet my antennae that the AAnn have been intercepting and monitoring all such transmissions ever since their presence on the planet was allowed. I would not feel secure forwarding the data under anything less than military-level encryption.”

Cullen shrugged apologetically. “This is only a scientific outpost. I don’t have access to anything that hard.”

“I understand. Therefore, in order to ensure not only the security of the findings but of your own self, you will have to deliver the information in person.”

Cullen hesitated. For an awful moment Pilwondepat felt as if the human was going to dismiss the entire matter. Then the senior scientist nodded once, slowly. “All right, we’ll do it your way. The next regular supply flight will be in nine days. I have a few things I’d like to do in town, and I’m overdue for a scheduled break. In addition to making the necessary rounds, and enjoying a little rest and relaxation, I’ll make an appointment with the highest-level enforcement official who has time to spare, and I’ll present your report. I’ll also relay your conclusions. Myself, I’m not quite ready to draw any. No final ones, at least.”

Pilwondepat would have heaved a sigh of relief, except that thranx do not heave. He did, however, exhale softly. “That will be most satisfactory, Cullen. Meanwhile, I will keep track of the activities, both formal and otherwise, of our mutual acquaintance Riimadu. The critical thing is not that action is taken immediately, but that your authorities are made aware of what the AAnn are doing. Alerted, they will be able to draw their own conclusions. Especially when further incidents of the type I have compiled continue to recur. Your people will then be able to view them with a different eye. I am satisfied.”

Cullen was relieved. “Then we can get back to the business of science?”

The thranx gestured straightforward agreement. “It will be a comfort to me, though I will not be able to entirely relax until the last AAnn is expelled from this world. Politely and diplomatically, or otherwise.”

Cullen tried to explain without dismissing. “You have to understand, Pilwondepat, that in the absence of direct evidence of wrongdoing, human authorities have a tendency to move with caution. Nothing’s likely to happen right away.”

“It will come.” Pilwondepat was confident now. “The more unfortunate coincidences involving the AAnn that occur, the more likely your people will be to see that they are not coincidences at all. There will be an acceleration of awareness.”

“Nine days.” Cullen came around from behind the desk to place a reassuring hand on the thranx’s b-thorax. “Think you can stand working in Riimadu’s company that long?”

“As long as should prove necessary.” The thranx swiveled his head almost 180 degrees. “It’s easier for me to watch my back than it is for you to guard yours.”

At that point Therese Holoness burst into the chamber, nearly beating the doorway’s announcing buzz. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide open and alert. She glanced uncertainly at the thranx before settling her gaze on Cullen.

“Come quick, Mr. Karasi!”

Cullen’s eyes flicked in Pilwondepat’s direction before returning to the young woman. “What is it, Therese? What’s wrong?”

She blinked in confusion. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, sir. Please, come with me. You’re not going to believe what we’ve found.”

10

The humidity at Chitteranx Port hit Baron Preed NNXV like a grit-heavy sandstorm. Gasping, he hastened to activate the dehumidifier strapped to his snout. Immediately, air from which virtually every trace of moisture had been removed flowed down his nasal passages and into his lungs. Relieved, he stepped out into the otherwise amenable climate that filled the terminal. What he really needed, he reflected, was the visual equivalent of a dehumidifier for his eyes. Or more properly, a debugger.

The place was full of thranx. The insectoids were everywhere: operating greeting stations, food and drink facilities, rushing to and fro in hideous numbers. That was not surprising, since Chitteranx was a major port of arrival and embarkation on this continent, and Hivehom was their homeworld. That did not make the place any easier to tolerate. Like all his kind, Preed loathed the multilimbed, hard-shelled creatures. What he wanted to do was wade into the seething mass and start pulling off arms and legs and heads. Aside from the fact that he was more than slightly outnumbered and such action would result in his own expeditious demise, it would reflect badly on his mission.

Diplomats, he reminded himself, were to be discouraged from dismembering their hosts.

It was not the thranx he had come to see, however. Had that been the case, he would have landed at Daret and checked in with the official Imperial Embassy there. His mission was rather more circumspect. The thranx had been reluctant to allow it. But since no state of active hostilities existed between the Great Hive and the Empire, they were unable to find a good reason to refuse the official request. It was to be an informal visit, the AAnn officials in charge of making the arrangements had insisted. Nothing conclusive was on order. As a major power friendly to both sides, the AAnn simply wished to see how the humans who had located on Hivehom were doing. The thranx didn’t like it, but could not find a legitimate way to refuse without giving unnecessary offense.

Preed had been chosen because of his mastery of the humans’ language and a tolerance for difficult conditions. He was flattered by the endorsement and could not in any event have gracefully refused. So here he was, surrounded by bugs, on his way to see spongy, soft-skinned mammals. The familiar comforts of Blassussar seemed a very long way off indeed.

The heavy protective clothing he would need to tolerate the visit to the human outpost was packed securely in the satchel he carried slung over his right shoulder. Striding forward, the dehumidifier across his snout distorting his otherwise courtly profile, he searched in vain for the tube that would take him to the shuttle that would convey him to the Mediterranea Plateau, where the humans had their settlement. His flight connection was deliberately scheduled tight, so that he would not have to spend any more time in lowland Chitteranx than was absolutely necessary. A check of his chronometer showed that he had no time to linger. Growling deep in his throat, he realized that he was going to have to ask directions.

Steeling himself, he used the general terminal guide to locate an information kiosk. At least he would be spared direct contact with one of the bugs. The kiosk was designed to be utilized by offworlders. As such, its instrumentation was intuitive, and though it could not communicate in the Imperial Tongue, he soon had his directions. Striding off in the indicated direction, he had to struggle not to kick crowding thranx aside. Bipedal and as tall as the average human, he towered over the milling natives. With their compound eyes, you could not even tell if they were looking in your direction, but he knew that they were staring. The presence of an AAnn on Hivehom, outside the diplomatic mission located in the capital, was highly unusual. He fancied he could smell hatred and fear emanating from them. A good feeling, it made him smile inside.

The aircraft that would carry him to the high plateau was specially retrofitted to accommodate humans as well as thranx but was virtually empty. The few insectoids aboard crowded as far forward as they could, maintaining as much space as was practical between themselves and the unusual passenger. This suited Preed well. As for his own perch, the AAnn found that while his legs bent in places different from those of humans, he could still fit his backside into one of the flight chairs that had been designed for them. The only difficulty lay with his tail. While flexible, it still had to go somewhere. As there was no proper slot in the rear of the seat, he was reduced to thrusting it off to one side and over the rim of the chair for the duration of the flight. The resulting contortion was uncomfortable, but not impossible. At least, he reflected, he was not reduced to being strapped down like a piece of cargo.

The flight on the superswift craft carried him high above the clouds that swathed the jungles, rain forest, plantations, and conurbations below. Once they passed over the edge of the Hysingrausen Wall, the weather cleared above the plateau. It would be refreshingly drier in the human settlement, he knew, but also much colder. He would be compelled to swap the uncomfortable dehumidifier on his snout for a bulky set of cold-wear gear. Such were the travails a multispecies ambassador was expected to endure.

There were compensations. Preed’s ability to deal with an assortment of sentients, plus his unusual linguistic gifts, had elevated him to rarified status. Actually, his rank should have guaranteed him a home posting in a comfortable villa, with perhaps a view of the Sandronds on Blassussar’s southernmost continent. But his skills made him too valuable to keep at home. So he had become a rover in the service of the Empire. The lifestyle suited his temperament if not his liver.

From the air Azerick was unimpressive. He had not expected much. The human outpost was still of comparatively recent vintage, both physically and politically. It could not be allowed to grow rapidly for fear of unsettling the locals. This was too bad. There was nothing Preed, or any other AAnn, enjoyed more than seeing the multilimbed thranx unsettled.

Hence his visit.

His principal purpose was not to unnerve the thranx. That was only a side benefit. He was here to talk with the resident humans, to ascertain a number of possibilities, to formulate appraisals, and with luck to make more than mischief. His hopes were high. Despite all the lies the thranx had told humans about the AAnn, despite their unprecedented and unrepeated cooperation during the course of the Pitarian War, relations between the two powerful entities were still in a state of uneasy flux. Relations could evolve, or devolve, on the basis of very small developments. It was these that Preed was on Hivehom to influence. His energetic, mischief-making colleagues, he knew, were busy elsewhere.

The dryness of the air that assailed his nostrils when he emerged from the aircraft into the local terminal was a huge relief after trying to breathe the damp mud that passed for atmosphere in Chitteranx. He immediately removed the clumsy dehumidifier and stored it in his baggage. Finding a personal hygiene chamber, he attended to necessary ablutions while donning the lightweight but still unwieldy special garb that would keep the air next to his scales fifteen degrees warmer than the ambient temperature outside. Only his head, tail, and hands remained exposed to the chill air. When he emerged from the chamber, he felt refreshed and ready to begin work.

A voice in halting Imperial hailed him as soon as he stepped outside. “Envoy Preed! Over here, sir.”

Espying the only human who was both staring and gesticulating in his direction, Preed approached the individual and replied in near-perfect Terranglo. The language was easier on his larynx than either High or Low Thranx. Something else, he mused, his people and these mammals had in common. Extending a hand, he noted the human’s obvious surprise as the clawed fingers enveloped the mammal’s soft skin and shook gently.

“You ssee?” the envoy informed his greeter. “No brushing of antennae. Your kind have one digit too many, and your clawss are exceedingly inadequate, but otherwisse there iss virtually no difference.”

Pleased by the flattering comparison, the human stepped back. “I’ll be your principal contact during your visit to Azerick, Envoy Preed. Members of our guest support staff will look after your daily needs. Whenever you are ready for formal talks, just let me know. I can say that I personally have been looking forward to them for some time.”

“A chance to sspeak with ssomething bessidess a bug?” Preed ventured.

Gratifyingly, the human essayed a half smile. “I didn’t say that.”

An excellent beginning, Preed decided. This human, an important member of the local diplomatic staff, was already predisposed toward the AAnn and against his hosts. With more such benign developments, much might be accomplished in the coming days.

“May I carry your baggage, Envoy?” The human extended a helpful hand. To Preed, it looked as if the straps on his case would cut right through the soft, unprotected flesh. “By the way, my name is Jorge Sertoa.”

“Yess. I wass informed it would be you who would be meeting me. No thank you, truly, Jorge. I prefer to carry my own gear. The exercisse iss a good thing for me.”

Outside the little terminal, the all-pervasive green of the plateau forest made him wince slightly. He longed for familiar earth tones: for yellows and reds, burnished orange and fiery vermilion. Such hues were not to be found anywhere on Hivehom, and certainly not here in the place of the humans’ choosing. Gasping as the chill air entered his lungs, he bundled his weather suit tighter around his neck, clasped his hands together, and paced the escorting human to the impressive little high-speed transport. Within moments, they were racing northward through the towering woods.

“This transport cabin is equipped with an individual climate control.” The human was at pains to be accommodating. “Would you like me to turn up the heat?”

Diplomacy be strangled, Preed decided. “I would like that very much, truly. My thankingss, Jorge.”

Within minutes the temperature inside the cabin had risen to nearly thirty-three degrees. Though the human was starting to look uncomfortable, he did not ask to reduce the temperature, and Preed gladly took advantage of the other’s obliging nature.

They bantered inconsequentialities all the way to the outpost. There, Preed was assigned quarters that had been hastily adapted for his arrival. There were chairs with slots in the back for his tail. The high bed had been replaced with a basin filled with sand, complete with a crude, hastily adapted, but functionally adequate warmer. As with the cabin aboard the high-speed transport, the room’s temperature could be individually regulated to suit its occupant. Preed immediately pushed it to maximum without bothering to try to translate the digits on the readout and without worrying about the possible consequences to the room’s contents.

He spent the rest of the day relaxing as best he could amid the alien surroundings and renewing his acquaintance with his recordings of human facial expressions, which AAnn xenopsychs had discovered early on in the course of formal exchanges were a vital key in understanding the mammals. Oftentimes they would say one thing while their countenances would convey something entirely different. The fact that the thranx were not yet very good at this business of interpreting facial muscle positioning only inspired Preed’s people to try to master it. No one could claim that ability yet, but among those assigned to diplomatic posts especially, great progress had been made.

For example, his host, the human male Sertoa, had been politely neutral in his greeting and conversation. But the subcutaneous flexing of his facial muscles had suggested a warmer predisposition toward his AAnn guest. As time passed, if his interpretation was further confirmed, Preed could play on that. Much good could be done here. He reminded himself of that repeatedly, by way of compensating himself for having to endure the frigid conditions atop the plateau. At least the local humidity, while higher than any AAnn would choose, was tolerable, as opposed to the simmering soup of an atmosphere that prevailed in the bug-infested lowlands below.

“We have sso much more in common,” he hissed to his host the following day, as Sertoa toured the visiting diplomat through the facility. “Physsically, we are infinitely more alike than either of our resspective sspeciess are to the bugss.” By way of demonstration, he reached out and put a four-fingered hand, polished claws and all, on the human’s shoulder. The flesh was soft beneath the thin garment, but Preed had expected and prepared for that.

“You ssee? We are on average nearly the ssame height, though your kind runss to more extremess than mine. We are both bipedal, though you lack the counterbalance of a tail. Internally, we are both bissymmetrical. Your earss are rather prominently external, but our eyess are identically possitioned, though your pupilss are round and ourss vertical. Your facess are pusshed in—excusse my terminology, are flat—but when you look me in the eye and I look back, I see a being that iss not sso very different from mysself.” He gestured southward, toward the teeming lowlands. “When I look at a thranx, I ssee ssomething that iss truly alien.”

“The thranx are as intelligent as you or I, and as deserving of respect,” the human responded.

“Truly.” Had he overstepped his bounds? Preed wondered furiously. After all, the humans were on this planet by the grace of their insectoid hosts. Had he misread this mammal so badly? “I wass ssimply pointing out ssome interessting and unavoidable ssimilarities. I did not mean any dissresspect to thosse who, after all, are hosstss here to uss both.” Disrespect, he mused silently, could come later.

“I understand.” The human directed his guest down a footpath paved with round stepping-stones. Preed’s sandals clicked softly on the artificial rock, his feet swathed in protective cold-resistant gear. Meanwhile, the human strolled about virtually naked in the chill air of afternoon.

“We musst all get along in thiss tiny corner of a vasst galaxy. You know that the emperor hass petitioned your government for the ssame ssettlement and ssharing rightss that are pressently enjoyed by thesse thranx?”

Sertoa’s face revealed his surprise. “No, I didn’t know that. In what way?”