Having accomplished what they had come for, Pyreau knew they ought to depart. Shanvordesep was gesturing precisely that. But the good father had never been one to leave well enough alone. If that had been the case he would not have found himself in his present circumstances, sharing a hypothesized future with an alien bug while begging money from the contemptuous and cynical affluent.
“We don’t consider the undertaking amusing. Despite what you may think, this is not farce. We see a need that is not being fulfilled.”
For a horrible moment he feared he had gone too far, that he had abused this powerful woman’s hospitality to the point where she would withdraw her offer. Then she laughed for a second time, and he relaxed.
“If you’re not in the business of amusing, then why am I enjoying this so much? Why do I find the whole endeavor so comical?”
“Perhaps,” ventured Shanvordesep quietly, “because it has satisfied a need.”
She turned on him. “A need? I don’t have any ‘need.’ What need?”
“One that you have yet to identify, obviously.” The thranx bowed slightly and began to back away from the desk. “You are a fascinating species. I never cease to be amazed at your ability to pretend things that exist do not, and to ignore logic and reason in favor of what you would like to believe.”
Lorengau shrugged slightly. “So our nature is more whimsical than that of the thranx. Whose wouldn’t be?” Activating a screen set into her desk that was shielded from their view, she manipulated controls with the fingers of one hand. “I’ll want my husband and daughter’s names prominently displayed on the list of contributors, of course, as well as on the front of your first tabernacle, or whatever you end up calling your places of gathering.”
Pyreau glanced at his eight-limbed colleague. “We don’t plan to do that sort of thing. This is to be a refuge from the realities of the world, not a reminder of them. I have always found that the prominent placement of contributors’ names on the outside of structures intended for religious purposes only reminds those who are unable to do likewise of their comparative insignificance, if only in a temporal, nonspiritual way. We are trying to get away from such things.”
“But we will find a way to acknowledge your gift,” Shanvordesep put in quickly. “One that I believe will more than satisfy your wishes.”
Shaking her head slowly, Lorengau’s speculative gaze passed from human to thranx. “I can’t make up my mind if you two are truly dedicated or just arrogant.” She sighed softly. “People are going to find out about this, you know.”
“We intend that they should,” Shanvordesep declared.
“There’s going to be a lot more amusement, much of it directed my way. Not to my face, of course. But people will laugh at me.”
“Someday they will bless you.” Pyreau made the assurance with as much feeling as he could muster.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she muttered sardonically. “What name have you picked for this creed of yours, anyway?”
That much, at least, he and Shanvordesep had worked out beforehand, Pyreau thought with relief. “Nothing complex. Nothing overbearing or intimidating. We were thinking of calling it the United Church.”
“How original. And yourselves?” She eyed him with some interest. “Will you still be a priest, Father Pyreau?”
“I think so, though that is still to be worked out.”
“And your many-legged, golden-eyed friend?”
Pyreau turned to the thranx, and this time it was the solemn-visaged pastor who smiled. “In a difficult moment early in our encounter Shanvordesep once referred to himself as the ‘last resort’ of his…flock is not quite the right word, but it will do. And that is what he will be once we begin: the last resort.”
5
As it had for thousands of years, Mount Agung was steaming softly. The thranx who were strolling along the beach hardly glanced in its direction. They had never questioned why humankind had chosen to situate one of the two original sites for greeting and processing visitors to their world in the midst of a necklace of islands noted for their exceptional volcanic activity. Perhaps this question had occurred to their hosts, who had on more than one occasion alluded to the possibility of moving the facility to the large land mass that lay to the south.
There were three thranx: Nilwengerex, a specialist in human culture; Joshumabad, recently arrived from Hivehom; and Yeicurpilal, the second-highest-ranking representative of her species on Earth. In the company of the two younger males she made her way along the shore, careful to keep well away from the water. The protection from large, potentially deadly waves afforded by the offshore reef was not adequate to completely reassure any thranx.
Joshumabad would not, and perhaps could not, let go of the theme that prevented him as well as his companions from enjoying their morning stroll beneath the warm equatorial sun. It was understandable. The concern he continued to express was the reason for his being there.
“Those on the Grand Council feel like they are caught at the terminus of a dead-end tunnel with a starving memn!!toct at the open end. They do not know whether to run, estivate, or start digging.”
Yeicurpilal’s six unshod feet left multiple impressions in the slightly damp sand. A warm tropical breeze whispered through her ovipositors. Though past the age suitable for procreation and unable to vent any more eggs, she was still straight and sturdy of limb. The delicate lavender tint maturity had imparted to her exoskeleton was highlighted by the angle taken by the rays of the still rising sun, and her compound eyes glistened with intelligence.
“Why are they so upset?” Yeicurpilal gestured with a truhand in the direction of the island of Bali that lay just across the deep, swift body of water known as the Selat Lombok. “Our relations with the humans are good. Negotiations are proceeding on a host of mutually important matters, from trade and commerce to exchanges in the arts. I realize that agreements are not being finalized as rapidly as some might like, but neither are they at a standstill.”
Less comfortable in the alien surroundings than his companions, the recently arrived Joshumabad kept much of his attention focused on the ground beneath his feet. He was careful to avoid anything that hinted of the organic. While he had confidence in the greater experience of his associates, neither of them were experts on local life-forms. Though the likelihood of them encountering anything that could prove toxic to their offworld biologies was small, he was not the type to take chances.
“Everyone is nervous. Not only those on the council, but those who are assigned to many of the advisory committees. These mammals are aggressive, intelligent, and technologically advanced. The council very much wants them as a counterweight, if not as formal allies, in this part of the Arm to restrain the adventurism of the AAnn.”
“We are on course to achieve that.” Yeicurpilal bent to pick up a piece of driftwood. It had a lovely grain. Swinging it back and forth in the manner of strolling humans she had observed, she caused the nervous Joshumabad to put more distance between them. Disturbed at the pleasure she felt as a consequence of the result she had produced, she flung the stick aside. It landed in the water and began to drift away on the slight current. Was the same likely to happen to thranx hopes for this world and its peculiar, frustrating, sometimes maddening inhabitants?
“What is the council afraid of?” she asked when she had disposed of the stick.
“Being preempted by these Pitar. We have perused all the reports. It has been noted how the humans are far more comfortable in the presence of the Pitar than they are with us.”
“They are not more comfortable,” Nilwengerex declared firmly, speaking for the first time. “They are infatuated. I have some limited experience in intraspecies contact, with the Quillp as well as the AAnn, and I have never seen anything like this. It is not so much that they believe everything the Pitar say, or take all of it at face value, as the fact that they want so desperately to believe their own perceptions. These are, as you know, colored by the external appearance of
the Pitar, who according to what my human colleagues have told me in response to my inquiries represent everything that is physically perfect in the human imagination.”
Joshumabad considered. A bird, one of this fecund world’s many acrobatic aerial life-forms, momentarily distracted him as it flew by overhead. He would have had even a harder time concentrating had he known that the sea eagle was evaluating him as a potential meal.
“How can they be so accepting? Physical appearance has nothing to do with the trustworthiness and dependability of another. It does not matter if one is speaking of an individual or, as in this instance, an entire species. Even a hou!p knows to look deeper.”
“They are mesmerized by the superficiality of external beauty as embodied in these visitors.” Nilwengerex was a staid, humorless male, Yeicurpilal mused, but ruthlessly good at his work. She ranked him near the bottom of potential companions and at the very top as an advisor. Whether he was aware of her opinion she did not know. Males did not challenge senior females in matters of personality. He knew his position within the hive and was content with it.
“I do not understand.” Joshumabad executed a complex gesture indicative of internal confusion. “They are manifestly intelligent, fast learners, enthusiastic explorers. Yet in the presence of these Pitar they slough off several hundred years of social maturity. If we were to encounter a sapient species that resembled the thranx ideal we would be welcoming, but not…”
“Sappy.” Nilwengerex picked up a shell and began to examine the intricate, brightly tinted calcareous whorls. “As usual, the humans have a word for it, even if that is one they themselves would not apply to their present condition. However, nothing prevents me from using it.” He handed the shell to Joshumabad, who extended a truhand to accept it reluctantly. To have refused would have constituted a small but inescapable insult.
“Interestingly,” the culture specialist continued, “they are very much aware of their own insupportable reaction. At least, the more intelligent among them are. The great fevered mass of humankind seems largely oblivious. They wish only to expand and enhance contact with their new friends. Deeper consequences do not concern them.”
“What about the reception accorded our delegation by these Pitar?” The representative of the Grand Council was not at all comfortable with the information he was receiving.
“Formal and polite,” Yeicurpilal told him. “Insofar as we have been able to determine by cross-referencing with our human friends, these new aliens are treating us no differently than they are their human hosts. In that respect they are displaying more diplomatic maturity than the humans themselves.”
“What is the opinion of our perceivers?” Joshumabad matched her stride for stride while Nilwengerex wandered off to inspect the gelatinous mass of some tentacled creature that the sea had regurgitated onto the shore.
“Inconclusive. Contact is too recent and infrequent to reach any formal conclusions.” She glanced sideways at him. “The council has been kept fully informed by space-minus communications. They know all this. Why are you asking questions to which answers have already been given?”
Feeling a chill, Joshumabad found himself longing for the low-lying clouds of Hivehom. “I wanted to hear it directly from you. Oftentimes official reports inadvertently leave out the most significant particulars. Even visual transcripts can neglect information that is inherent in person-to-person gestures and glances.” He turned his attention back to the cultural specialist, who had concluded his examination of the dying jellyfish and hurried to rejoin them.
“I am interested in your informal opinion, Nilwengerex. What do you, personally, think of these Pitar? Beyond what you have contributed to the official reports.”
Nilwengerex pondered a reply. The sky was very blue, and beyond it, Hivehom very far away. Yet he did not feel as estranged on this world as he had on Trix, for example, or even at his first posting, on the benign globe known as Willow-Wane.
“I haven’t made up my mind. Nor have any of my colleagues. We felt that we were just beginning to comprehend these humans, to come to some understanding of how their very different minds work, when one of their deep-space exploration teams returned with these Pitar in tow. Their unannounced appearance was as much of a shock to us as it was to the rest of humankind. So we have been forced to adjust our work and reallocate our resources to study not one but two new alien, mammalian species. It has been something of a strain. Under such circumstances, you and the council will have to learn to be patient. We are learning as much as we can as fast as we can.
“Unfortunately, access to the Pitar is restricted. More than restricted: It is virtually unattainable. Constantly attended and surrounded as they are by ardent humans, it is almost impossible to procure unescorted contact with them.”
“They are willing enough to talk to us,” Yeicurpilal put in, “but reluctant to insist lest they irritate the humans. After all, it is their world on which we all are visitors. A polite guest does not make demands that might displease their hosts.”
“I know that the Pitar claim to occupy only two worlds, in conjoining orbits in the same system. Though they possess vessels capable of journeying in space-plus they are not eager colonizers. By way of contrast, we have to date settled five worlds and the humans seven. Population disparities aside, do you think they are dangerous, these Pitar?” It was a question Joshumabad had put off asking until he felt more comfortable in the cultural specialist’s presence.
A sharp, high whistle sounded from Nilwengerex. Startled by the unnatural alien sound, several small, rainbow-colored lorikeets burst from the cover of nearby brush and took wing. When the whistling laughter finally died down, the smallest of the three strolling thranx readily replied.
“We do not know enough about them to say, but one thing I do know: They can’t be any more dangerous than these humans.”
It was not the kind of response Joshumabad had expected, and his responsive gestures showed clearly that he was taken aback. “How can you avow such a thing? We have not only many representatives on this world, but an expanding, functioning colony. If what you say now is true, then there are lives at risk.”
“I do not deny it.” The dour attaché appeared engrossed in the pale blue sea, as though he had a death wish of his own. Joshumabad did not like him very much, but he respected the other male’s knowledge. “Yet each day I spend on this world I find myself liking these humans more and more.”
Joshumabad halted abruptly, the sand warm beneath his feet. “Now I am thoroughly confused. Which is it? Which observation do I convey to my superiors when I return to Hivehom to make my report in person? Are these bipeds dangerous or not?”
He might have expected clarification from the senior diplomat among them. Instead, Yeicurpilal only succeeded in muddying the waters further. “That’s it exactly.”
Joshumabad held firm. “That cannot be it exactly. Either these humans are a threat to us or they are not.”
Yeicurpilal was not swayed by the visiting representative’s determination to secure a straight answer. “They are warlike and peaceful, brutal and sensitive, ignorant and understanding. This planet is a big ball of raging contradictions. And the worst of it is, while they recognize these inconsistencies within themselves, they seem powerless to do anything about them.”
“You have to give me something more,” Joshumabad pleaded. “I can’t present myself to the Grand Council with conclusions like that!”
“First of all,” Nilwengerex assured him, “they are only observations, not conclusions. I can tell you that my colleagues and I who have been studying these people do not believe they pose any direct threat to the thranx.”
“Crri!kk, that’s something, anyway.” Joshumabad was visibly relieved.
“I said no ‘direct’ threat,” the attaché reminded him. “Their racial volatility makes their future actions unpredictable. We have been making progress in many areas of cooperation, most notably in the matter of commercial and scientific
exchanges. The greatest difficulty we are being forced to try to overcome is the fact that in shape we so nearly resemble the small arthropods that are, numerically at least, the dominant life-form on this world, and with whom humans have been engaged in a battle for survival since the dawn of their own evolution. As you must know by now, they attach an enormous and irrational importance to physical appearance.” His tone had turned even drier than usual. “Witness their immediate and unwarranted attraction to these Pitar. Through no fault of their own, these newly contacted bipeds are inadvertently responsible for the marked setback in our developing relations with the humans.”
The council representative was silent for a while as the three resumed their stroll. Much more at home on the alien beach, Yeicurpilal and Nilwengerex reviewed every plant and animal they encountered, striving to identify them according to the taxonomy that had been supplied by human scientists.
“Then I am to inform the council that relations continue to advance successfully, but at a slower pace than previously?”
Yeicurpilal gestured concurrence. “That is what I would report.”
“And when might they be expected to accelerate again?”
Yeicurpilal looked to Nilwengerex for a considered response. The attaché was reluctant to commit himself. “It is difficult to say. My own personal opinion, based on observation and the small knowledge I have gained of these people, is that it will not happen until the novelty of the Pitars’ appearance has run its course. Unfortunately, it shows no signs of relenting. The humans are as entranced by their newfound near-duplicates today as they were when first they were brought here.”
“Is there nothing we can do to regain appropriate attention?” The unexpected situation was new and confusing, as unprecedented in Joshumabad’s experience as it was in everyone else’s. They had not had such trouble relating to the Quillp, or even to the AAnn.
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