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THROUGH MUD ONE PICKS A WAY, by Tim Sullivan
Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Nov./Dec. 2013.
“On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it.”
—Jules Renard
“Better stay on the lift,” Hob Dancer shouted down to Uxanna Venz.
Uxanna clutched the handrail for a moment before dropping and spattering some of the pit’s knee-deep muck. She straightened up, waded toward the nearest of the three Cetians, and squatted to touch its milky belly, ignoring the methane stench as her fingertips came into contact with its wet hide. The Cetian began to rearrange its mass in response. Part of it swelled and extended toward her, gaining length and definition as it popped and slurped itself into a new shape. The new limb split at the tip into five trembling digits.
“Success,” Hob said.
“Don’t get too excited.” Uxanna took the limb as if shaking hands with it. The digits were cool and wet, throbbing in an irregular pattern. “We’re just getting started.”
“Are they okay?” Hob asked in his papery voice.
“The closer I get, the worse they look.”
“I don’t see why,” Hob said, as if the imprisoned creatures disappointed him. “I’ve paid a fortune to take care of them.”
“Something’s making them despondent.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Homesickness.”
“For that swamp they came from?”
“Be it ever so humble.”
“Don’t they like their home away from home down there?”
“You’ve done a good job of approximating their environment, but it’s not the same.”
“I hope you can make them feel more comfortable.”
“I’ll try.” Uxanna massaged the Cetian’s digits. The other two stirred in the mud. “You have to sort of come at this sideways.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nobody does.”
“Then how do you talk to them?”
“It’s a matter of making adjustments,” Uxanna said. “They’re usually willing to meet us halfway.”
One of the other Cetians was growing a limb now, reaching toward Uxanna, its bulk contracting as part of it swelled outward. She grasped the second creature’s separating digits and waited for the third to touch her. After a moment, she felt its clammy caress on the back of her neck.
“They need to be in contact with your skin to get some idea of what you’re thinking,” Uxanna explained.
“Telepathy?”
“Not exactly, but they feel subtle differences in the current that passes through a human.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You’re not going to get anything if you don’t let me concentrate on what I’m doing,” Uxanna said.
“So I should shut up?” Hob asked.
“I’d put it more politely than that.”
“Then I’ll shut up.”
Hob might have been offended, but at least he was quiet now. If he wanted to get his money’s worth, there would be no further interruptions.
The squid-like grip on Uxanna’s hands and the probing digits on her upper spine almost made her feel as if she were part of the trio. She had dealt with hundreds of Cetians and seen thousands more squirming in the mud back on Cet Four, and she had been pretty good at persuading them to move out of the way for construction crews. Their boggy habitat was the most livable part of the planet. There was a lot of swampland, so they didn’t mind sharing with humans. Not at first.
Unfortunately, landfill deprived them of more and more of their home. That led to trouble, and huge numbers of Cetians were relocated by force, much to Uxanna’s disapproval. She was glad to leave Cet Four while such a heartless policy was in effect.
The Cetians never fought back, but that didn’t stop colonists from maligning them. Every time someone was lost in the swamps, there were rumors that she or he had been killed for revenge. Uxanna never believed it, though. It was easy enough to lose your way among the huge spiral trees and their adventitious roots without foul play.
Violence was certainly not on the minds of the three shy creatures in this basement pit. Uncertainty and fear were.
“You’re safe here,” she said.
She felt the throbbing speed up a little and then die back down, and she knew what that meant. They did not believe her.
“I know this place is very strange, but no one is going to harm you.”
Again, the Cetians doubted her.
“You’ve been given everything you need here, haven’t you?”
The throbbing stabilized. The Cetians were willing to admit that much was true.
“Then please let me know what is troubling you.”
Digits unwrapped themselves from her right hand and the limb receded into the Cetian’s white belly once again.
“Please…” Uxanna said, but the second Cetian was withdrawing and she no longer felt the third one touching her. Their limbs vanished, their bodies elongated, and they slithered away, burying themselves in the thick, greenish-brown slime like enormous night crawlers.
Disappointed, Uxanna climbed back onto the lift, almost slipping because of the mud on her soles. She was raised to the ledge overlooking the pit, where she climbed off to face Hob.
“What happened?” Hob asked, pursing his thic
k lips. “You seemed to be doing all right there for a minute, and then they just backed off.”
“They’re not sure they can trust me yet,” Uxanna said.
“Yet?”
“I think they will, in time.”
“How much time?”
“They’ll have to think about it for a while, and then they’ll probably let me come near again.”
“How long is a while?”
“I don’t know, Hob,” she said. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to string this out to get more money from me, are you?”
“Hob…” she said as a warning.
“All right, all right.” Hob held up his hands, palms outward, displaying his most charming grin. It was a facial expression she was wary of.
“I’d like to clean up,” Uxanna said.
“Told you to stay on the lift.”
“You have to get down in the mud with Cetians,” she explained. “That’s where they live.”
Hob nodded. “The hoses are right over there.”
Uxanna squished to the hoses, using one to spray her legs, hands, and feet. When she had the stinking mud cleaned off, she went back to see Hob, who had retired to his sparsely furnished office.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“I’m kinda wet.”
“Cruvayn will have a robot clean up the office later.”
She sat down and put the discomfort of her wet shoes and leggings out of her mind now that she was about to talk business.
“So…” Hob began.
“I want fifteen mets,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I can’t afford that much.”
“Sure you can.”
“I’d have to liquidate some assets.”
“Then do it.”
“Uxanna, be reasonable.”
“I am being reasonable.”
“It’s too much.”
She stood up and started toward the door.
“All right, all right,” Hob said, exasperated. “You’ll get your fifteen mets.”
“When?”
“When do you want it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
She sat down. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’ll see it.”
“I have one more condition,” Uxanna said.
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to be straight with me.”
“Are you implying that I haven’t been?”
“No, I’m not implying it,” she said. “I’m coming right out and saying it.”
Hob sighed. “What do you want to know?”
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