Nor Crystal Tears

by Alan Dean Foster

  The temperature and humidity had been set to his specifications, and plants had been provided to give the burrow a homelike atmosphere. Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to insure his comfort.

  After the expected argument he was allowed a computer terminal, one slightly more complicated than the one he’d used on the Seeker. The engineer who instructed him in its use watched with more than a little envy as Ryo utilized sixteen digits and four hands to input requests far more rapidly than any human could have managed.

  Days of conversation followed. As long as the station authorities allowed him access to information, Ryo was reasonably happy. The percentages of humans who openly liked him, were uncertain, or unremittingly inimical remained about the same as on board the Seeker. But his visitors were mostly scientists and researchers, he reminded himself. He doubted he would be as well accepted among the general populace.

  Occasionally he was visited by members of the Seeker’s crew. They were undergoing debriefing elsewhere on the station and did not try to conceal their pleasure at once more being with their own kind.

  Ryo’s guests included one group of three that spent an inordinate amount of time with him. There was one large elderly male and a smaller elderly female who both sported white fur. The third member of this team was a considerably younger male.

  At the moment Ryo was stretched out flat on a saddle that the station shop had hastily cobbled together for him. The alien fabric was gently gripping against his abdomen and thorax, the head brace decently curved. He crossed his hands over his front and let his legs droop lazily over the sides of the saddle. In addition to the three scientists, Loo was present, not to act as interpreter, since Ryo’s mastery of the human language was now extensive, but simply to be a familiar go-between should the need arise.

  After several hours of discussion concerning Thranx cultural habits, Ryo had a question of his own.

  “You know, I have an interesting proposal I would like to make. I’ve given it a good deal of thought.” He studied his visitors as they waited for him to continue.

  On the right was the elder male named Rijseen. Ryo had decided he was the equivalent of an Eint, for he was often deferred to by other inquirers. Next to him sat the elder female Kibwezi, whose skin was nearly as dark as the space surrounding the station. Nearby was the youngest of the three, the diminutive male called Bhadravati.

  Since they’d first come to question him many changes had been made in Ryo’s burrow, at his request. The ceiling had been lowered nearly a meter. A human of more than average height was therefore compelled to stoop when walking. All the right angles had been removed through the addition of sprayed polyfoam. The lighting had been reduced. The heat and humidity remained at Willow-wane normal.

  By way of partial compensation a changing room had been installed between the station corridor and the burrow proper. There visitors could discard whatever clothing they wished so they might speak with their alien guest in comparative comfort.

  Despite the fact that he was sitting practically naked, the sweat was pouring from Rijseen’s face. His companions seemed more at home in the tropical climate of Ryo’s quarters.

  The phenomenon of sweat fascinated Ryo, but he led his thoughts away from it to the question he intended to ask. “During my studies I have learned that there are regions on several of the worlds you have settled which you make little or no use of. This includes your home world of Earth.”

  “You aren’t supposed to know details like that,” the younger man interrupted sharply. Then he blinked as if he’d mentioned something he wasn’t supposed to. The woman threw him a look of reproach. It didn’t pass Ryo, who’d become adept at recognizing the meaning of such flexings. He let out a short whistle of amusement.

  “When a society becomes sufficiently advanced technologically it becomes very hard to conceal something from someone who knows how to ask the right questions. While we are considerably different in shape, our information machines generally obey the same laws. Do not be surprised that I have circumvented certain restraints. I do so out of curiosity, not malice.

  “On your Earth there are areas such as the Malay peninsula, the Congo region of the continent called Africa, and in particular the Amazon basin that are to this day thinly inhabited and inefficiently utilized, though you have made extensive efforts to exploit them.”

  “They’re likely to remain that way,” Kibwezi commented.

  “That is not necessary. For example, you have left the Amazon basin largely untouched because it was found some time ago that extensive development of the region would result in catastrophic deforestation. This would upset the production of oxygen and possibly unbalance your atmosphere.

  “We are not only experienced at making use of such areas, we prefer to live beneath them. The humidity and temperature would be like home to me. We can tunnel through and live in almost any kind of ground, the result of thousands of years of sophisticated excavating. Although it is a little cool during certain seasons, my people could live quite contentedly in such a place, which can be only forever inhospitable to your kind.” He hurried on.

  “Lest you think me making a subtle suggestion of invasion, I must also tell you that there are comparable regions on our own worlds that you would find quite pleasant, though I would not live in them for all the credit in the universe. Some of them are greater in proportion to their planets’ surface areas than this Amazon basin is to your Earth’s.

  “For example, the extreme polar regions of our capital world of Hivehom are lethally cold to us, yet according to my studies no worse than much of your northern hemisphere continents.” He gestured at Loo. “Those who were held there can attest to its climate during our coldest season.

  “There is also an extensive plateau that rises two thousand meters above its surrounding country. Many of the trees you call softwoods thrive up there. Rainfall is moderate by your standards and temperatures too cool for Thranx comfort. There are no mineral resources but the soil is suitable for the kinds of farming I have studied.” A little pride crept into his tone. “Of that I can promise you.

  “I would guess that the climate there approximates what is average around your Mediterranean Sea. So you see, we could greatly benefit each other by trading off such territories. Development of these regions could proceed easily, since they are located not on new worlds but on highly developed ones. All would benefit.”

  “We are hardly empowered—” Rijseen began apologetically.

  The female took over for him. “You must understand, Ryo, that we are simply scientists, observers. We are here to study and learn and to teach. We do not set policy, though we may make recommendations.

  “I am not a bureaucrat, but I think I can say with confidence that your proposal is more than simply premature. There has not been even preliminary formal contact initiated between our species. Yet you sit there and calmly propose not a mere alliance or expression of friendship, but an actual exchange of territory and colonists.”

  “Let me try and put it more graphically,” the younger man said, “and excuse me if I use terminology that seems indelicate. The idea of perhaps a million of your own kind, a million giant, armor-plated, glow-eyed bugs, actually settling down on Earth, is one that would be very hard for its general population to accept.”

  “No more so,” Ryo responded, having anticipated the objection, “than it would be for the people of the Hive of Chitteranx, who dwell directly below the plateau I told you of, to gaze every day up its cliffs knowing that hundreds of thousands of giant, fleshy, flexible aliens were building machines and lives up there.”

  “Then you are as subject to the racial paranoia your psychtechs accused us of as we may be,” said Kibwezi.

  “Not at all. We are discussing now deeply ingrained cultural fears and ancestral emotions. You may loathe my appearance, my people may loathe yours, but unlike you, we do not loathe each other’s. We have not fought among ourselves for thousands of years. Your history, which I hav
e studied, is full of devastating internal conflicts of appallingly recent date.”

  “We’re getting away from your proposal,” Rijseen put in. “I don’t see how—”

  Ryo risked censure by interrupting, though, he reminded himself, that did not carry the disapproval here that it would have among his own people. “Think of the knowledge to be gained by both sides, the advances that would surely be made, not to mention the necessity of striking a military alliance against the AAnn.”

  “That may not be as vital as you seem to believe,” Bhadravati noted. “You insist it was an AAnn vessel that attacked the Seeker, but we have no way of confirming that. You could be trying to smooth over a mistake by your own government.”

  “The AAnn exist. They attacked your ship and killed your people and are every bit as dangerous as I’ve told you.”

  “You’ve told us that these AAnn once attacked your own home town,” Kibwezi said softly. “That they killed your friends and relatives.”

  “That is also truth.”

  “Then your own personal—not to mention racial—bias against the AAnn would naturally induce you to seek an alliance against them. Even if they did attack the Seeker, it may have been in error. They might, for example, have thought it a new design of your own. Why should we ally ourselves with you against them when we might be friends with them as well as with the Thranx?”

  “A neat trick,” Ryo replied, controlling his temper. “There is one difficulty. The AAnn believe they are a chosen species, designated to rule the entire galaxy. Other, inferior races are to be exterminated or enslaved. They are very patient and careful to conceal such feelings in the presence of diplomats. This patience makes them all the more dangerous.”

  “So you say,” Bhadravati responded.

  Ryo’s composure slipped just a little. “What reason would I have to lie to you?”

  “I just enumerated,” began the woman, but Ryo hardly heard her now.

  He had innocently thought his carefully prepared proposal would be accepted instantly and approved. Its logic was unassailable. Instead, it had been casually brushed aside as unworkable and premature. Another aspect of human behavior to be filed for later dissection.

  “They might indeed offer you apologies and alliance,” he told them. “Deceit is their refined weapon, deception their most prized characteristic. These attributes are supported by an advanced technology and militaristic society.”

  “So you say,” the younger man repeated with infuriating self-assurance.

  “We digress again,” Rijseen pointed out. He tried to reestablish the atmosphere of cordiality with which they’d begun the questioning.

  “As you’ve heard, we are only researchers. We can only pass your proposal along—as we do all information—to others better positioned to act on it.”

  “You will do that for me?” Ryo asked.

  “Of course. We are collectors of information, not interpreters. Now tell us again,” he said eagerly, “about the higher implications of the filian ceremony.”

  Ryo sighed inwardly, determined to raise the issue again and again at future meetings until he received some kind of positive response.

  XIII

  A quarter-month later Ryo had an informal visit from Bonnie and Loo. Like the rest of the Seeker’s crew, they were still sequestered at the station, subject to medical as well as mental study. They were answering nearly as many questions as was Ryo.

  Neither human was as uncomfortable as Ryo’s questioners. They were more accustomed to the climate of his burrow. The low ceiling and rounded corners did not trouble them at all. They had endured such surroundings for months on Hivehom.

  Conversation consisted largely of pleasantries and reminiscences. Eventually the matter that had troubled Ryo for some days could be ignored no longer. He escorted them to the wall where his private terminal had been installed.

  Since the meeting with Rijseen and his two companions he’d found that tighter blocks had been placed on certain channels of inquiry. Nothing had been said about it and the computer had been programmed to be evasive rather than specific, but he recognized the establishment of channel locks.

  He’d discovered the other almost on a whim, in a moment of boredom. It presented a challenge and he attacked it more for the entertainment it offered than out of any desire or need to know its contents. They had turned out to be something other than entertaining, however.

  “I was working here several days ago,” he explained to them, sliding into the saddle, “trying to research your contacts with other life.”

  “I thought you were an agricultural specialist,” Bonnie said, staring over his shoulder as the screen ran information.

  “So I am, but the question of other intelligences has intrigued me since larvahood. If it were not for that I doubt we three would ever have met.”

  “That would have been a loss,” Loo said with a smile.

  “Yes.” Ryo worked the keyboard with two hands. In addition to the central screen the two peripherals on its right promptly winked to life. Patterns flashed across the glass. “It was while hunting for evidence of such contacts that I stumbled into a block. I’m used to that now. Normally I file their location and ignore them. That is the polite thing to do, since your superiors evidently feel there is certain material I should not have access to.”

  Both humans looked a little uncomfortable despite Ryo’s admission that such blocks did not bother him.

  “We have no control over such matters,” Bonnie said finally.

  “I am aware of that. I was not accusing you. This block, however, tempted me to try to circumvent it, since it concealed information of particular relevance to me. I have come to believe the block was placed not specifically against me but to prevent general access by the majority of the staff at this station.

  “In my years as member of my Company’s local council I have had ample opportunity to make use of information-retrieval technology. Though your system differs from ours, I have applied myself both on the Seeker and while here, and have succeeded in learning a great deal. Also, Thranx are naturally proficient at logic and aesthetic inference.

  “Briefly then, I managed to bypass the block that had been placed on this particular line of questioning. I was in fact surprised that a stronger block had not been placed on it. Sometimes in their eagerness to conceal vital information bureaucrats may overlook the trivial.”

  He returned to the console and his fingers moved across the keys. The flow of information on the three screens slowed, stabilized. The words MAXECRET—ALIEN CONTACT and THRANX appeared. Demand was made for a second input, which Ryo supplied.

  The words vanished, were replaced by a computer-generated diagram of Ryo’s body. On the peripheral screens information began to unroll, accompanied by smaller diagrams and appropriate commentary.

  “That’s your file!” Loo blurted in surprise.

  “Indeed,” Ryo replied. Behind him the two humans leaned closer. Evidently neither had seen the information now appearing on the screens.

  Ryo let it unspool at its own leisurely pace for a while, then touched a control. The text and graphics became a multicolored blur on the screens. A beep sounded from somewhere inside the console and the information slowed to a near crawl.

  “This is the section I would like you to pay attention to,” he said drily. “I found it most interesting.”

  Bonnie’s eyes traveled through the paragraphs, slowed at a particular line. “… and it is therefore concluded, that additional questioning beyond the prescribed date can generate only minimal new information. Urgent requests continue outstanding from Xenophysiology and other bureaus for further material on internal construction and in particular cerebral makeup and capability of the specimen in question.”

  Behind Ryo, Bonnie flinched at the last phrase. The information continued to roll up the screen.

  “The military branches in particular are interested in all aspects of the aforementioned with view toward future method
ology for confusing such functions as vision and feel. Particular inquiry is desired into the physiology of the faz sense, which is not duplicated in humans and which presents unique military difficulties of its own.

  “It has therefore been decided by a vote of twelve to ten by the senior planners of Project Thranx that, since the specimen in question appears to occupy only a minimal status among his own hierarchy and that since his whereabouts are in any case unknown to them, postmortem internal studies should commence on the date indicated.

  “Psych Staff sees no problem in creating suitable excuse to explain the specimen’s demise should the need arise. This also supported by a vote of 12–10 by the senior planners.

  “Note is made of the closeness of the decision and the vehemence of those voting in opposition. Revote reconfirms the decision to proceed with the aforementioned. Euthanasia will be performed the evening prior to the announced date and dissection and study will commence following. Sig.Per.Proc. See tables MEDICAL, THRANX PROJ.”

  Fresh information continued to appear. Neither Bonnie nor Loo paid any attention to it. Their single lenses seemed slightly glazed. While he recognized the phenomenon, Ryo could not interpret it sufficiently to correlate it with his companions’ feelings.

  “Did I not tell you it was most interesting?” he finally said into the silence. “Apparently your superiors are so busy keeping knowledge of my presence here unknown to the station personnel, they neglected to guard it sufficiently from me.”

  “It’s monstrous,” Loo muttered. “They want to cut you up to see what makes you tick.”

  “They have no grounds, no reason …” Bonnie began, so angry she could hardly speak.

  Ryo’s reply was couched in philosophical tones. “There is no more knowledge they feel they can gain from my aliveness, and much from my death. I have already made my peace with eternity. I am prepared to accept the inevitable.”