Quozl (42 page)

“We hope to call on you for assistance in the future,” Seams was saying, “and to offer what little we can in return.” It was no more than typical Quozl politeness, but it clearly pleased the President. So did her next words.

“One thing only we would request.”

The Chief Executive was completely relaxed now. Someone was asking him for something. “Just tell me how I can be of assistance.”

“We do not wish to be restricted to this one small burrow. We want to be able to move about freely, to go where we wish. It is vital to our health.”

Chad listened to the bold-faced lie and fought to control his expression. He couldn't help but wonder if the Quozl had decided to present their request in this fashion or if they'd been coached by the ever-prescient Arlo.

“Naturally we don't wish to jeopardize your well-being in any way.” The President was at his paternal best. “You will be allowed to go wherever you wish—militarily sensitive installations excepted, of course.” An inadvertent moan rose from one corner of the room, from the vicinity of assistant head of the National Security Agency. The President took note of it and smoothly modified his response.

“I hope you won't think it forward of us to insist that you have an escort with you wherever you travel, to prevent you from being mobbed by adoring citizens. There exists in this country a real danger of people becoming too friendly—and though it pains me to say so, there are also those who might pose a danger to you simply because you are presently the object of much public attention. This is something I am familiar with firsthand. So you require protection for two reasons.”

“Are we already so accepted, then?”

“It all happened so fast.” The President smiled down at Seams. “If I may say so, you are not what many people expected in the way of visitors from another world.”

“What did they expect?”

The President looked thoughtful. “Something less—attractive. People are not only surprised by your appearance; they are also pleased.”

Arlo had been right all along, Chad thought. Now they couldn't be spirited off to some dungeon for interrogation and vivisection. Not after having been on tv nationwide, not after having given dozens of interviews, and especially not after the President himself had just guaranteed their right to travel when and where they wished—albeit under escort. Wide exposure was the strongest armor.

When they learned of the Quozl, other governments protested vigorously at what they perceived to be an American monopoly on alien contact. The State Department replied ingenuously that they had nothing to do with the Quozl selection of a homesite. This muted but did not halt the complaints.

Meanwhile Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal traveled as inconspicuously as possible around the greater Los Angeles area, observing, studying, recording, relaying information to the Burrows, and shaking hands with astonished adults and delighted children. Watching the reactions of humans to Quozl, Chad was convinced not only that the Quozl were going to be accepted by the populace at large, within a few years they were going to be able to run for public office.

So it was somewhat of a surprise when their presence was finally challenged. Not even the President could alter certain laws by executive fiat. The challenge would have to be met through the proper channels, like any other objection to the law.

The source was a small fringe group with questionable policies but plenty of money. They had the reluctant backing of several small reputable scientific organizations.

What they said was that it was scientifically and morally unconscionable to allow sixty-three thousand unstudied, unexamined aliens unrestricted access to the rest of the planet. There was sotto voce talk of communicable diseases. The protesters insisted that if nothing else, each Quozl be individually examined and passed before being allowed onto the surface. In addition they proposed restricting the Quozl to a proscribed reservation where they could be observed and monitored.

In short, they requested everything Chad and Runs had feared from the beginning.

The President's good intentions notwithstanding, the Quozl basically had no rights.

The controversy did not slow the financial tidal wave that swelled the coffers of the corporation Arlo had established in the colony's name. Everything was cleared with the Burrow Masters and Arlo left to take care of the details. Meanwhile government technicians were still trying to locate the site of the colony. They kept digging fruitlessly around the Collins's vacation cabin. Chad knew they would stumble across the Burrows eventually, but for now the Quozl were grateful for the delay.

It would be much better, he decided, to settle this first serious controversy before the colony was located.

They were actually going to have to appear in court. The whole thing was ludicrous, which was entirely in keeping with the basis of contemporary American jurisprudence. The government attorney brought in to assist them was sympathetic and helpful. A shame, this business, she told them, but something they were going to have to go through with. A formality. Chad wasn't so sure, Arlo less so.

“I know it looks absurd,” she was telling them. “The media are having a field day with it. But short of the President declaring a national state of emergency, we're going to have to follow the law. I can't tell you how embarrassing this is for the Administration.” She looked curiously across the room at Runs and Seams.

“I'm afraid a declaration of good intentions isn't sufficient to contravene recognized scientific method. The Quozl are going to have to prove some things.”

The Soviets immediately offered the Quozl unconditional asylum. After consulting with the Council of Elders, Runs and Seams graciously turned them down. They would happily sit in court to prove themselves to any and all human skeptics.

The group which wished to see the Quozl's movements and activities restricted engaged some impressive legal talent. Thoughtful scientists found themselves locked in uneasy alliance with xenophobes and pseudo-Luddites.

As he sat in the hearing chamber listening to the opposition propound its arguments, Chad saw visions of barbed-wire enclosure surmounted by gun towers and mines.

The government attorney was rebutting eloquently. “Is this any way to treat harmless visitors cast helpless upon our shores? You have heard their story. They did not expect this world to be inhabited. Instead they discovered us, we garrulous, quarrelsome humans. They cannot go elsewhere. They wish only to remain and be good neighbors and friends.”

Everything you say may be true, the opposition subsequently conceded, but none of it was provable. As to the true nature of Quozl intentions and Quozl purposes there was only the word of the Quozl themselves. That, and the testimony of two young adults untrained in observation and analysis.

Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal listened to the debate silently, occasionally taking time to retire to a private cubicle. Ostensibly they were contacting their superiors for advice, when Chad knew they spent more than half the time copulating. In deference to the peculiar sensibilities of the American public, neither he nor the Quozl chose to mention this particular Quozl need.

In their concluding argument the opposition pointed out that the Quozl had entered the country, as it were, illegally, which observation drew more than a few guffaws and comments about “illegal alien” jokes from the resident media. That particular objection was overcome the following day when the President signed a hastily composed directive permitting unrestricted immigration from any location greater than five hundred thousand miles from existing U.S. borders.

The opposition then argued that if the Quozl were allowed to spread freely throughout the country, they would surely become a burden on an already straining welfare system. The government attorney countered with income figures supplied by Arlo which proved that per capita the Quozl were already the wealthiest minority in the country. They could support themselves quite nicely without any assistance from the government, thank you. Among the more visible contracts Arlo had secured for them was one with Weyerhaeuser and another with Georgia-Pacific. The two forest-products giants had engaged the services of the Quozl based on assurances from Runs-red-Talking that tree-farm output could be tripled with a little instinctive Quozl input. Nor was that the only area of forestry in which they proved themselves useful.

Quozl began to appear on posters alongside flat-hatted, shovel-wielding bears.

The opposition could see which way the hurricane was blowing, but hewed to their position against mounting odds. They held one card the government had not yet been able to trump: there was still no proof that humans and Quozl could exist safely side by side without harm to old ladies and little kids. Until such time as proof could be provided, caution dictated restricting the visitors to their present area of habitation, with severe restraints on their movements. It did no good to point out that Chad and Runs-red-Talking had been friends for fourteen years. One twosome did not a society make.

The government attorney committed a grievous blunder by admitting that the Quozl were reasonably happy where they were. The opposition pounced immediately. In that event, why not leave them where they were until such time as safeguards could be ensured? What harm could there be in exercising a little caution? Study and analyze first, and then if everything turned out as everyone hoped it would, all fine and good.

This argument struck many as eminently reasonable, and the opposition found itself blessed with new friends and support. If the Quozl truly intended to be good neighbors, why would they object to such a policy? Where lay the harm?

It lay, Chad knew, in the possibility that the government and the public might grow comfortable with the status quo.

The simple “formalities” droned on week upon week, until the weeks turned into months. The Quozl's initial novelty was wearing thin as the public accepted their presence and turned its attention to news of greater immediacy. Indifference strengthened the opposition. Something had to be done, and quickly.

It manifested itself in the expression the government attorney wore as she entered the hearing room one smoggy morning. Her makeup looked especially fresh and her face was devoid of the usual strain. In response to Chad's inquiry she merely smiled and directed him to sit back, relax, and watch.

Neither Arlo nor Mindy was present today. Of the Quozl, it was Runs's turn to be present for consultation. Seams was talking on the communicator.

When the government attorney called another witness forward no one took particular notice. The formalities had seen hundreds of experts in every field called by both sides to press conflicting claims.

The elderly woman who strode to the front of the room was dressed plainly. Her back was straight and her hair short. Runs was suddenly alert, sniffling the air. Chad eyed his friend uncertainly, unable to detect anything out of the ordinary himself.

“You have known the individuals in question for how long?” the attorney was asking the woman. Chad began to suspect when she announced her place of residence, but said nothing, hardly daring to breathe. By now Runs was on his feet, every sense alert and searching.

“And what do you think of your old friends?” the attorney inquired.

“Best friends I ever had. Ornery, just like my Willie and me. Don't know what I would've done without 'em after Will passed on. That's rough country up there. A tough place for an old woman to make a living.”

“Would you say, Mrs. Greenley, that you've had any problems with your friends in all the years they've been living with you?”

“Nothing serious. Mostly they've been a joy to me and mine.” She gazed around the hearing room. “Without their help I doubt I'd be here today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Greenley. Tell me something. What have they asked of you in return for all their help?”

Chad could see that the opposition wanted to object to this line of questioning, but they were slow to see where it might be leading. So they made the mistake of saying nothing, waiting like everyone else in the room to see what might develop.

“Not much. Just to share my roof, play their music, and raise their young-uns.”

“Do you think they've been as friendly and helpful as any normal couple?”

“Your honor, we object.” The opposition's chief counsel was on his feet.

“Overruled.” The presiding magistrate surveyed the room expectantly. Everyone was tense, on edge, eager to see what might happen. The puzzled opposition counsel sat down, muttering to his colleagues.

“Please answer the question, Mrs. Greenley.”

“Oh, they've been more than that. They look after me just like I'm one of their own.” She had to raise her voice to make herself audible over the sudden whir of camera autowinders as alerted reporters began snapping pictures like crazy.

“So in all the time you've lived together,” the government attorney concluded, “you've had no serious arguments with these live-in friends, no fights. You have contracted,” and she stared pointedly at the opposition's scientific advisor-in-residence, “no unusual diseases from living in intimate proximity to them.”

“Nope.” The old woman was utterly unperturbed by the lights and her surroundings. “In fact what with them to help with the heavy chores I'm probably healthier than I've been in my life. It's hard up north in the winter, when the sun don't shine much and an old lady gets lonely.”

“If you had to characterize your friends briefly, Mrs. Greenley: what they've meant to you, how you've come to think of them after all these years, what would you say?” As she concluded, Seams entered the room, sniffling guardedly.

She didn't have to think long. “Same thing I'd say about my grandkids: that they're a blessing from the Lord.”

The government attorney looked sated. “
Thank
you, Mrs. Greenley.” She turned to the back of the room. So did everyone else, those with difficult angles craning their necks in hope of a better view. “Would the members of Mrs. Greenley's
family
please come forward.”