Quozl

by Alan Dean Foster

  Or maybe it was just, he thought with a start, that Tries-simple-Glow felt sorry for him.

  It never, ever occurred to him that she might like him.

  “What do you think, human Chad? Do we grab the horny bull?”

  He made a stifled noise, kept his lips rigorously together lest he expose his teeth and thereby his brutal human nature. Some of the tension went out of him. It had no choice. A sideways glance showed Mindy with head bowed and her hand over her mouth. Evidently the Quozl linguists’ mastery of human slang was not quite complete.

  “It’s a thought. You can’t hide here forever. I’ve always believed that. If not Arlo somebody else would find you, maybe somebody we don’t know and can’t influence.” He took a deep breath. “Personally I’ve always thought you were fooling yourselves, thinking you could stay hidden here for hundreds of years. Sure the area is infrequently visited, but wilderness areas everywhere are drawing more and more visitors every year. It’s not like you dug in up on the Canadian Shield or under the Greenland icepack or something. Sooner or later one of your survey teams was bound to run into somebody. Or some mining company would’ve sent prospectors in here illegally just to check the prospects out. There’s cobalt and chromium and all sorts of valuable stuff in this part of the country. Runs tells me you’ve been mining it yourself. A mining team might’ve found you by accident.” He turned his attention to the senior Burrow Master present. There were a dozen Burrows now, according to Runs. As he spoke he dropped his eyes, deferential as any Quozl. He sensed the gesture was appreciated.

  “Arlo’s forcing wider contact. It’s up to you to preempt him. How do you want to do it? Take out an ad on tv or in USA Today? Should we bring reporters here? The big papers and networks wouldn’t come but I think we could cajole somebody from a local station into bringing a crew up. As soon as they put out the first pictures you’d have all the attention you never wanted.”

  “One avalanche at a time is enough to deal with.” Short-key-Leaps spoke without rising. “So long as the exposure is limited to this Arlo person we are able to proceed at a pace we determine.”

  Tries-simple-Glow indicated acknowledgment with a dip of her right ear, continued. “We will commence with caution and necessary improvisation. It has been decided that two Quozl will go with you to make known our presence to human society. Your observers will see only two Quozl at first. This we believe, based on what we have studied of your people, will be more reassuring to them. We think it would be unsettling for many of your kind to learn immediately that thousands of Quozl are living among them. We have always believed this.

  “The longer we can keep the scale and location of the Burrows a secret, the better it will be. It offers us flexibility in the event your people react violently to the revelation.”

  “They won’t,” Chad said sharply, immediately regretting his impolite outburst.

  Tries-simple-Glow muted her instinctive reaction. “Can you promise us that?”

  Chad relented, his reply resigned. “No. I can’t.”

  “Then we must go cautiously. We can force the issue, but at our own speed. If more humans meet two Quozl, they will be much less interested in talking to this Arlo about other Quozl whose location he knows not and whose numbers he can only guess at.

  “We also believe that this meeting should take place in a large metropolitan region far from the Burrows. It will draw all attention from this area, which can only be to the good. If we cannot delay another hundred cycles, perhaps we can delay a few. We can put the time to good use. Not only must humans be properly prepared for contact. So must our own people.”

  “Let’s do it in Los Angeles,” Chad suggested after waiting a proper interval before speaking. “We live there, we know it, and it’s one of the centers of media activity. But how do we get a pair of Quozl from here to there without giving them away?”

  “You drive,” said Short-key-Leaps matter-of-factly. “It is vital that those who accompany you have the opportunity to observe.”

  “There are no cars here. There are no roads,” Chad pointed out. “That’s why we have to fly in and land on the lake each year.”

  “We could all walk out, traveling at night as much as possible,” suggested Runs-red-Talking. “With Quozl leading, the darkness wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Chad eyed his sister, who appeared dazed. Ignoring her, he addressed his thoughts to Runs. “That’s something we’ve discussed before. The folks would understand. We’d tell them we want to see a lot more of the country. We could go into a small town. I could leave Mindy behind with your representatives, hitch to a bigger town, rent a car and come back for all of you, smuggle you into the car at night. Or maybe I could get a van. Yeah, and everybody could hide in the back. That’d work. That’d be perfect!”

  “No,” said Short-key-Leaps solemnly. “Another hundred cycles of privacy would be perfect. A hundred years for the anonymity of a van. Fate forces poor trades.” His ears waggled.

  “The two assigned to join you will travel with a small but powerful transmitter so that the Burrows may be kept informed of your progress, both physical and social. It will operate on an undistinguished frequency and will not alarm those humans whose business it is to monitor such things. It can inform, and if necessary give warning.”

  “You won’t get much reception between here and L.A.,” Mindy warned him.

  Ears bobbed humorously. “Each of your relay satellites provides numerous subchannels for audio communication. Most are vacant. We will make use of one. Transmissions will be encoded and broadcast many times real-time speed. They will draw no attention.”

  “Have you decided,” Chad inquired hesitantly, “who’s going with us?”

  The Master of Burrow Six spoke for the first time. Chad and Mindy had to wait for translation from Tries-simple-Glow.

  “Against our better judgment but compelled by circumstance, Runs-red-Talking will assume this task.”

  Runs stiffened slightly, commented only with his ears. If he’d been expecting the reluctantly bestowed honor he’d hidden his hopes well.

  “His personal experience with humans is unexcelled, however unfortunate. We must act for the best interests of the Burrows, not as we personally might wish. His companion will of course be female.”

  “Naturally,” Chad murmured to himself. He knew the Quozl well enough to know that Runs or any other Quozl male would literally go insane if deprived of feminine companionship for more than a couple of weeks at a stretch. It was not a question of emotional deprivation. Hormones ruled the Quozl as thoroughly as they did humanity. The difference was that the Quozl had come to terms with the reality of their own physiology.

  A young scientist rose. “This is Seams-with-Metal,” said Tries-simple-Glow by way of introduction. “Among the surface studies team she is the agilest of mind if not the most experienced or intelligent. We believe that in this instance a talent for improvisation is more valuable than many other attributes, in which she is not in any event lacking. She knows your language as well as anyone. One area of specialization in which she excels is her knowledge of the methodology of native manipulation called public relations. Is this not appropriate?”

  “Most,” said Mindy, startled. She had clearly not expected this degree of sophistication among Quozl students of human behavior.

  “Preparations must be made.” Seams-with-Metal possessed a voice that sang like panpipes, Chad thought. Though he restrained himself it was clear Runs-red-Talking was more than pleased with the Council’s choice of a colleague.

  “We have our own to make. This will take a little time to set up.” He thought rapidly. “We’ll convince Mom and Dad we’re going to stay out an unspecified number of weeks. They’ll just nod. In fact they’ll be glad of the time alone. I’ve thought for a number of years that Mindy and I were cramping their style.”

  “Agreed,” said Short-key-Leaps, “save for your use of the plural.”

  Chad glanced up in confusion. “What?”<
br />
  “We have no choice but to believe in you, to believe that you truly want to aid us,” the xenologist quietly explained, “but no matter how powerful our belief in this we still would not refuse reassurance.”

  Chad’s reply was guarded. “What kind of reassurance?”

  “The strongest kind.” An Elder ear gestured in Mindy’s direction. She was fully alert now. “Chad, you may leave to acquire such additional supplies as you will need for your extended walk. Meanwhile your sibling will remain here to confide in us.”

  “Look, if it’s a hostage you want, I’ll be glad to …”

  “No, Chad.” Mindy’s expression was uneasy, but her tone was firm. “If it’s me they want to stay, then I’ll stay. That’s the least I can do. You go tell Mom and Dad. You can carry back more stuff than I anyway.”

  “It will give her time to meditate,” said Tries-simple-Glow encouragingly. “The philosophers believe it will do her good.”

  “Yeah, you go, little brother.” Mindy favored him with a wan smile, hurriedly quashed it when she saw nearby Quozl turn away in disgust. “I’ll stay here and meditate like crazy. Think of the story material.”

  “If that’s the way you want it.” He agreed reluctantly.

  “No, it’s not the way I want it. It’s the way they want it. I’ll be okay.” She smiled again, this time with her lips tight. Then she drew him close and to his immense surprise, bussed him affectionately. “Just don’t get distracted by a book or something and take your time hoofing it back here, okay? I mean, I know how courteous and polite the Quozl are, but don’t forget one thing.

  “I’ve also seen their artwork.”

  XVIII.

  CHAD MADE IT to the cabin and back in record time. Mindy greeted her brother’s return with unabashed relief despite all the bravado she’d displayed prior to his departure from the colony.

  The four travelers left immediately, escorted partway by members of the surface studies staff including Short-key-Leaps. When the latter had gone as far as planned, they exchanged ritual farewells with Runs and Seams. So little visible emotion was involved that it was hard to believe the team members were consigning their fate and that of the entire colony to one young renegade and his comparatively youthful female companion.

  From the point of farewell it was an additional five days’ hike to the outskirts of the tiny mountain community called Bonanza. There Chad and his sister promptly battled over which of them was to remain behind with the two Quozl and who would walk into town to try and hitch a ride into Boise to rent a vehicle. Chad insisted he should be the one because he had more stamina, but Mindy argued vociferously that it would be far easier for an attractive young woman traveling alone to get a lift than it would for a bedraggled, luggageless young man. Condemned by his own traditional devotion to reason, Chad conceded her victory.

  The following days were not easy for him. What, he found himself wondering, if his sister decided to abandon the entire plan and instead catch a plane out of Boise to rejoin her fiancé? If so, he could do nothing about it.

  Several times he and his friends had to hide from passing hikers. Then the day came when the climber they were fleeing turned out to be Mindy. She hadn’t been gone many days. Chad felt embarrassed by his earlier thoughts.

  “It’s parked on the north end of town.” Mindy looked back the way she’d come. “I came as far up the last road as I dared.”

  Chad studied the dirt track that ran below their camping site. “A van could come up that.”

  “A van, maybe, but I rented us a motor home instead.” At his surprised look, she added, “Why not? We’ll travel just as fast and there’ll be plenty of room for our friends to move around and still stay out of sight.”

  When informed of what she’d done, Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal were pleased.

  Chad had to admit when he saw the big motor home that his sister had driven it as far as possible up the dirt road leading out of town. It was a twenty-four-footer, brand-new and loaded with extras. Though Runs and Seams had both studied images of such machines they were still intrigued enough to poke at every button. The bathroom elicited an endless string of amused ear gestures.

  Their interest had waned by the end of the second day. Runs was contentedly occupying himself with the reassembly of the microwave oven, which he had dismantled the evening before. Chad watched him manipulate the delicate, tiny electronic components as deftly as a jeweler setting a pavé diamond. Seams settled on a small side window and spent hours staring at the passing scenery.

  Before returning to pick them up, Mindy had done some hasty shopping. The back of the motor home was piled high with clothing hastily gleaned from the teens’ departments of half a dozen stores. Additional humor was generated as Runs and Seams tried on ill-matched but adequate covering. The results would fool a casual observer for a crucial moment or two, provided neither Quozl stepped outside the motor home. Ears could be tucked into caps, but Runs-red-Talking’s feet might be disguised only in ski season.

  Seams selected a thin raincoat with matching hood which concealed everything except her face. Thus hidden she was able to sit closer to her window while watching the landscape flee by at sixty miles an hour.

  Not that they ran much risk of being seen, since the highway they were driving was one of the least traveled in America. They took 95 all the way down through southern Idaho and into southeastern Oregon, then across to the wilderness of northern Nevada. Avoiding Reno and Carson City, they eventually cut back into California to connect up with state route 395 near the mountain community of Bishop. Hundreds of miles had been safely traversed without trouble.

  Now they found themselves in country barren to human and Quozl alike, though their guests were impressed by the gray ramparts of the eastern Sierra Nevada. As Runs explained, the records indicated Quozlene was a world of hills and valleys, geologically ancient, too tired for tectonic dramatics. Its mountains were ground down and its canyons filled in. Not so Shiraz.

  “Maybe someday I can see Quozlene,” Chad said dreamily. “No, come to think of it your ships don’t travel fast enough to make that practical, do they?”

  “Generations live and die to accomplish the shortest journey.” Runs spoke from his position on the bed in the back of the motor home. Clad in cap and coat, Seams occupied the passenger seat next to Mindy, her huge feet tucked up beneath the dash. They had left the Sierra foothills for the blasted expanse of the Mojave Desert.

  “Shiraz is our world now.”

  Chad sat up to stare out the back window. “There’s something you’ve never told me, Runs. Why you did it. Why you broke all the laws and made your way illegally to the surface.”

  “I wanted to see my world,” he said simply. “The Burrows are comfortable but they’re also throwbacks to ancient Quozl history. I wanted to feel soil beneath my feet, smell fresh air, listen to the singing of the little mammals that fly. I wanted to hear the hum of insects. Most of all I wanted to smell the trees, to feel growing bark and living wood.”

  Chad was nodding to himself. “I remember you spending a whole evening talking about nothing but the grain of a particular wood.”

  “There is truth in trees,” Runs informed him firmly. “All the wonders of nature and the natural order are subsumed in wood. To study a tree is to study the universe. If it were possible we would make everything we use or own out of wood.” He gestured out the window with an ear.

  “Wider contact with humans would mean easier access to wood. You know of the law which bars study teams from bringing back to the colony anything but wood gleaned from fallen or dead trees.”

  “I remember all the wood I brought you over the years.” Not only local pine and spruce, he mused, but the little pieces of dogwood and purpleheart and buckeye and redwood he’d ordered from specialty dealers in L.A.

  “It is a way of keeping touch with one’s world, be it Shiraz or Quozlene or Azel or any other. For us the tree stands for life. If a world is home to trees
it can be home to us.”

  Chad remembered the linked rings that Runs had almost given him years ago. The Quozl were not simple carpenters and their wood not simple wood. Was he missing something important here? Were the trees of Quozlene more evolved than those of Earth, or merely different? The Quozl had achieved travel between the stars. What had the trees of Quozlene achieved?

  Runs-red-Talking hoped for wider contact, though perhaps not the kind that almost occurred at the Exxon station in Independence. Mindy had gone to the ladies’ room while Chad supervised the endless flow of dollars into the motor home’s vast double tanks. Only when he removed the nozzle from the fill tube did he notice the little girl of about seven standing with her hands behind her back staring up at the side of the motor home. Carefully putting the hose nozzle back in its slot, he leaned out to try and follow her gaze.

  Before he could, she turned and ran toward a mini-van parked at the inside island, yelling at the top of her immature lungs.

  “Mommy, Mommy! Come an’ see the big rabbit!”

  Chad’s body temperature fell a degree. He rushed to pay for the gas, ignoring the attendant’s puzzled stare. Looking toward the motor home he could see nothing, but there was no doubt whom the little girl had seen through the tinted glass.

  Fortunately she was utterly unable to interest her exhausted mother. Before she could, the travelers had fled the station for the safety of the highway.

  Seams-with-Metal confirmed his fears. “Yes, the little one saw me. I am always interested in the refueling process and I grew careless.”

  “What harm in that?” Runs wanted to know. “Is not the purpose of this journey to reveal ourselves to humans?”

  “Not in a haphazard manner.”

  The two fell to arguing. Chad understood them fluently and Mindy well enough. Like all Quozl debates this one was interminable, the subject under discussion often being lost completely as each participant sought to acquire status by out-apologizing the other. They had to avoid even the appearance of fighting. He wondered how they would handle possibly hostile human questions.