Nor Crystal Tears

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  But even Wuu's most persuasive manner and persistent questions drew nothing in the way of useful information. As the days passed Ryo was beginning to believe that Fal's relative really had suffered a temporary mental break­down.

  Likewise discouraging to further inquiry was the condes­cension with which they were treated, because they came from a relatively undeveloped and unimportant colony world. This didn't trouble the philosophical Wuu, but it rankled Ryo's pride and went counter to everything he'd learned as a larva about the equality of all citizens. Clan­ and hivemothers excepted, of course.

  When a month had passed, even the normally indefatiga­ble Wuu was beginning to show signs of losing interest. "We may have played the game to its conclusion, my boy," he murmured one evening in their hotel room. The hotel ran from Level 75 to Level 92. It was comfortable and boasted an exit on each level, but its novelty had long since worn off for both of them.

  It is only natural for the interest of a poet to wane, Ryo thought. Desperately he tried to find some way to convince his sponsor to continue the quest, for without Wuu's knowl­edge and other resources Ryo knew he would never come any closer to the truth of the matter.

  It came to them both as they boredly watched a fiction­alized dramatization of the confrontation between Twentieth Emperor Thumostener and King Vilisvinqen of Maldrett over possession of the Valley of the Dead between the an­cient cities of Yelwez and Porpiyultil. It was tense, stylized, and in keeping with proper anachronisms, militaristic.

  "The military. Of course." Ryo put aside his drinking spout, letting it slide back into the wall as he raised up on his sleeping lounge. "We have to contact the military again."

  Wuu sounded tired. "I've told you before, my boy, that any direct inquiry as to the whereabouts or even the exis­tence of this Brohwelporvot fellow will draw either useless replies or unwholesome questions. Still," and he made a gesture of second degree indifference, "since we have dis­covered nothing so far, perhaps it is worth a risk."

  "No, no I've no intention of going to the military au­thorities about Brohwel," Ryo replied.

  Wuu set aside his portable drinking siphon and gazed cu­riously at his young companion. "Why else would we want to contact the military? Unless, of course, you plan a sim­ple march up to the nearest office and intend once there to ask outright about the truth of their recent acquisition of a shipload of alien monstrosities?"

  "Nothing of the sort. You see, I have another and wholly legitimate reason for making my way all the way from Willow wane to Hivehom to contact military authorities."

  "Don't be abstruse with me, boy," muttered Wuu. "I'm tired and feeling my age. One puzzle at a time is enough."

  "It's just this ... " Ryo began.

  The military center was not located with the other gov­ernment offices. It lay in a cube complex of its own near the outskirts of the metropolis. The two supplicants paid the transport module and entered through a triple wide en­trance off the busy corridor.

  Swarms of workers scuttled through passageways and worked behind counters and at saddle desks. Most of them displayed inlaid military insignia. Here and there Ryo no­ticed individuals in whose chiton gleamed crimson four­ pointed stars to match his own. They were rather more common than he'd been led to believe, but his thoughts were too busy for the revelation to depress him.

  He turned to face Wuu and found the poet staring at him expectantly, for now the burden of inquiry fell on Ryo's thorax. He led the way into the complex.

  Eventually they found their way to a large information booth. The eight sided interior was filled with chattering, whistling soldiers. No explanatory signs marred the various sides, nothing differentiated one from its neighbor. Ryo strode boldly to the nearest and looked across the counter at a busy Thranx. Sixteen fingers flew across an intimidat­ing keyboard.

  "Pleasant day to you," Ryo said to the soldier by way of introduction and greeting.

  She looked over at him and he saw the light glance from the pair of emerald metal circles set into her left shoulder.

  "This is Information West and what is it you need to know?" she inquired pleasantly.

  "It's just that that ..."

  "Yes?" His hesitation had not aroused any suspicions in her. Not yet, anyway.

  He looked helplessly back toward Wuu. The poet ig­nored his stare, was gazing past him and admiring the sol­dier's ovipositors. Ryo inhaled, turned to the saddled sol­dier, and threw out the intricate half lie.

  "We are from Willow wane. I am called," and he showed her the fake identiplate as he pronounced his adopted name. "I have many relatives in a small town called Paszex. It lies far to the north of the capital and is the northernmost hive on the planet save for Aramlemet.

  "Four years ago Paszex was attacked and ravaged by a group of AAnn. Many died and property damage was substantial.

  "At that time we were promised increased warship Pa­trols for the isolated communities of the northern conti­nent. No such developments have been forthcoming. I and my adoptive sire," and he indicated the expressionless Wuu, "have traveled all this way at our own expense, to get some satisfaction."

  "I see," said the soldier thoughtfully, offering no com­ment. She swiveled her saddle to face the large console. The information displayed there was canceled by the touch of a key. Further touches produced different information.

  "Here we are," she said, speaking without turning from the screen. "Record of the attack and related briefings. You say you have relatives still living in this Paszex?"

  Ryo stiffened, which is not easy for a Thranx to do, but it was too late to back out or change his story. "I was there myself during the attack. I know what it's like firsthand. Not a pleasant experience."

  He worried overmuch. The question had been put out of curiosity, not suspicion. The soldier did not follow it up. "I've never had the chance for combat patrol myself," she said, a mite less stiffly, "but I've studied many records of such incidents. I sympathize with you informally, of course." She hesitated, considering. "You need to see some­one in the office of the Supervising Officer in Charge of (round Side Protection, Colonial Burrow. That can be ar­ranged, I think, and "

  Ryo hurriedly interrupted, making the complex gesture necessary to excuse his discourtesy. "If you don't mind," he said, "I've promised my relatives and clanmates back home that I'd try to find out exactly why the AAnn chose our poor little hive for attack. Paszex contains nothing of mili­tary interest. Their purpose in attacking it remains a mys­tery to all who live there."

  "Death without purpose is ever a mystery," murmured Wuu.

  "The dead are dead." The soldier eyed Ryo curiously. "What benefit could you and your friends derive from knowing the AAnn's motivations?"

  "Such information would ease the pain that arises from uncertainty in the minds of the living," Wuu put in, "and perhaps also show us how to make ourselves less attractive to attack."

  "I can understand that," the soldier said.

  "So we'd prefer, at least at first," said Ryo, "to see someone in charge of oh," and he tried to make it sound casual, "general xenology. Then we could go to the Colo­nial Burrow Division of the Ground Side Protection Office and find out why we're not getting the protection we were promised."

  The soldier clerk was uncertain. "The Xenology Ministry of Information is located among the general administrative offices at Daret Center. I fail to see why you'd put such a request to a military office."

  "Because the motivation resulted in military action and a military psychology is involved," Ryo replied.

  She stared back at him speculatively a moment longer. Then her curiosity vanished. Others waited impatiently be­hind Ryo and Wuu and it was not her business to analyze the requests of Outsiders, only to answer them.

  "Of course. A perfectly reasonable request," she mut­tered. "The department you wish to visit is normally closed to nonmilitary inquiries. But since you've come such a long way I will see what I can do for you."

  "Thank you
," said Wuu. "Up till now we've had very little help. We're very tired. Your assistance is most wel­come."

  "It's no bother," said the soldier, gratified.

  The soldier studied her readouts as her fingers danced on the keyboard. "Xenology has its own divisions and subburrows, and a staff devoted to Motivational Analysis."

  "That sounds promising," Ryo said.

  "Here you are, then." She touched some keys and a pink plastic wand emerged from a hole. She picked it up, in­serted it briefly into another hole. There was a pulse of light within the counter and a soft buzz. Then she handed it across the counter to Ryo.

  "That's your directional pass." Rising in the saddle, she pointed to her left, toward a corridor. Stripes in a dozen different fluorescent colors ran along the framing walls, parallel to the floor.

  "Follow the pink stripe," she instructed them. "Eventu­ally you'll reach the Xenology Burrow. Motivational Anal­ysis is located on the right. If you become disoriented or have any questions," she indicated the hole in the counter, "there are information access points like this one set in the walls. Insert your pass for additional information." She set­tled back into her saddle.

  "Thanks to you. Thanks greatly," said Ryo, taking the tiny wand. "Good day and night and a second metamor­phosis to you."

  "Good luck." The soldier was already talking politely to the next supplicant. Ryo was far more gratified than of­fended by the abrupt dismissal.

  The tunnels and corridors of the military complex seemed endless but no more so than those of Central Ad­ministration where they'd wandered hopelessly for days. They descended a dozen levels and crossed whole cubes before the use of the pass stick and judicious questioning of passersby finally brought them to an entranceway marked XENOLOGY MOTIVATIONAL ANALYSIS. Ryo slipped the pass into the hole in the door, which parted obediently.

  They stood in a circular, domed chamber. Three desks occupied the three triangular divisions of the chamber to left, right, and straight ahead. Peculiar creatures were mounted on the walls and tridimensional murals of alien landscapes camouflaged chip files and ceiling. Ryo shook as if he were preparing to mate.

  An efficient looking soldier in a green vest greeted them. Three metallic green stars and one brown one were set into his shoulder.

  "What service may I perform for you, sirs?" lie did not ask what they were doing in the chamber. Without the proper pass, they would not have been admitted. He natu­rally assumed they were on legitimate business.

  Ryo repeated the story he'd told the information clerk.

  "Yes, I recall many of those sporadic and nasty little attacks on Willow wane," the soldier said sadly. "Your world is not the only colony to suffer such attention. There have been many such incidents. Too many. But we are sci­entists here, not combat burrow. There is no penalty for expressing opinion, however."

  "It's refreshing to hear," Ryo admitted.

  "Nothing of the sort ever touches us here, on Hivehom. The AAnn would never risk that extreme a provocation. Their elaborate explanations would not be strong enough to rationalize away an attack on the mother world itself ­assuming they could get through the defenses, of course.

  "So they content themselves with irritating us. Eventu­ally such practices may bring about the war they strive so assiduously to avoid. Meanwhile they test our weapons and reactions and readiness far from areas of Thranx power."

  "Precisely the problem we're here to address," Ryo said.

  "And redress," Wuu added, for good measure.

  "Naturally, I sympathize with your concern," the soldier said. "You wish explanations and answers. You've had no trouble from the AAnn since the incident you speak of?"

  "No," Ryo admitted, "but we "

  "Come with me, please." The officer stepped back, made a sign to his busy pair of associates. There was some enigmatic professional discussion following which Ryo and Wuu were led into another room behind the outer chamber.

  A large screen dominated the far end. Banks of chips set in proper file casings covered the entire right hand wall. A dozen comfortably padded saddles filled, the floor of the dimly lit room.

  The officer moved along the wall, finally settled on a key, touched it. A sliver of rectangular plastic popped into view. He inserted it into the projector in the back wall, then handed Ryo a small cube dotted with indentations.

  "This controls the speed, direction of movement, and other functions of the projector," he explained. "I've run it up to the section that deals with the attack on your home. Other such incidents are also documented on this chip. The chip reviews the history of such attacks and goes into detail on AAnn motivational psychology." He started toward the doorway to the outer chamber.

  "If the material displayed does not answer your ques­tions, I'll be happy to talk further with you if you finish before I go off shift. If I'm gone, the evening shift will be happy to assist you." The door closed behind him.

  Wuu looked disappointed. "I haven't worked this hard and come all this way to look at sanitized military histo­ries."

  "Nor have I," said Ryo, "but it's a start, at least. Running the chip will give us time to decide what to try next."

  They activated the projector and soon Ryo's thoughts were not on what to do next but on the material playing across the screen. He was at once fascinated and appalled as the reconstruction resurrected those confused, frightened moments of so long ago ...

  Chapter Seven

  After discussion of the attack and lengthy dissection of AAnn attitudes, the chip Nil I reported the stepped up patrols around Willow wane, the official protest lodged with the AAnn by ambassador Yeltrentrisrom, and a sta­tistical summation integrating the attack on Paszex with all similar AAnn adventures.

  Words, Ryo thought bitterly. Words and figures. Lives lost and burrows shattered all interpreted statistically, for the benefit of study. He let the machine run. It began to describe other attacks on Willow wane and on Colophon.

  When the chip concluded Ryo was no nearer an idea on how they should proceed. Wuu was seated in one of the saddles, contemplating or sleeping. Either way he was not to be disturbed, Ryo knew.

  He peered through the doorway into the outer chamber. Three new soldiers occupied the three desks now.

  The nearest looked toward the partly open door. "Hav­ing trouble with the projection unit? The depth perceiver has a tendency to go fiat sometimes."

  "No, nothing like that," Ryo replied. "I thought I had a question, but it can wait until the others return."

  "That will be tomorrow morning," the soldier said pleas­antly. "Are you sure I can't help?"

  "Perhaps later." Ryo shut the door and retreated back into the study room. "Wuu, I wonder if perhaps we might "

  The poet was not in his saddle. He was standing opposite the chip bank, studying numbers and readouts.

  "What are you doing?" The poet did not comment, how­ever, simply continued to scan the wall.

  "Ah," he muttered at last. "Here we are. Index." He touched controls and the little scanner set in the wall began to run through its enormous volume of information on alien contacts in which the military had been involved. In addi­tion to the AAnn, there was material on the Astvet and Mu'atahl, two semi intelligent nonspace going races. The bulk of information dealt with nonsentient species with an emphasis on the carnivorous and belligerent types that the military was most likely to confront. But nothing touched on the mysterious rumor they'd come a tracking.

  A click sounded as the three sections of the door slid apart. The soldier who'd offered to help Ryo walked into the room.

  "You're not supposed to be doing that," he told Wuu reproachfully.

  "Sorry." Wuu made a gesture of polite indifference as he shut down the index scanner. "You can understand our anxiety to learn all we can after coming all this way. Un­fortunately, the information we're seeking doesn't seem to be in here." He gestured at the quiescent scanner.

  The door sealed behind the soldier as he scuttled over. "See," he said
to Ryo, "perhaps I can assist you after all. I'm very good with the files."

  His eagerness to help, the friendliness that seemed genu­ine, led Ryo to exchange a gesture with Wuu that literally meant, "Why not?" They'd reached a dead end, their bur­row search seemed blocked with granite.

  When they put the query to him he responded with a reaction they'd already encountered: laughter. Not as loud or hysterical as some, but laughter still.

  "I'm sorry. You must excuse my discourtesy," he told them, "but what you say is nonsense. Fascinating how ru­mors acquire a life of their own."

  "Isn't it?" Wuu agreed resignedly. "And yet, rumor is the seed from which the flower of truth often blossoms, nurtured by hope and persistence."

  "That's true." The soldier's attitude suddenly shifted. "I think I've heard that parable before."

  "Really?" Wuu looked pleased.

  "Yes. A colonial poet is the author. One of the better known outworld wordweavers. Quuzelansem."

  "Wuuzelansem," Ryo said, gesturing toward his compan­ion. "This is he."

  For an instant the soldier was stunned. Wuu executed a gesture of modest affirmation.

  "It is I, and my pleasure it is to meet a reader/ listener."

  "I am an avid follower of your work, sir, and that of Ciccikalk's Ulweilber and Trequececex as well It's an honor to meet you, sir."

  "Tut! Small honor, when our inquiries are met with laughter and scorn."

  "Now, what then did you honestly expect, sir?" the sol­dier said unapologetically. "A question like that, a query so absurd as to to " He broke off abruptly. Neither of the two visitors was laughing with him. Without a word he turned, checked to make certain the door was sealed, then returned to confront them.

  When he spoke again it was softly, his whistles barely audible. Then he chose a chip from the wall files, seem­ingly at random, inserted it into the projector and set it to playing. The actual material he ignored, pausing at the control cube only long enough to set the volume moderately high just loud enough to mask their conversation, low enough not to attract attention.