Nor Crystal Tears

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Don’t you see,” Ryo argued, “doesn’t anyone see that that is precisely what makes such a union worthwhile? The differences would complement each other. What is there to be gained from mating with someone exactly like yourself? There is never anything new, never any surprises.”

  “Surprises are delightful,” the poet agreed, “in art and music. Surprises are wonderful in science. When the destiny and survival of your entire race are at stake, I am not so sure that surprise is welcome. Even were what you say to be so, what of their psychoses?”

  “Every race has its distinctive problems,” Ryo admitted. “We are not perfect, either.”

  “No, but neither are we inherently homicidal, as these creatures appear to be. While they might act quite sanely as individuals or even in small groups, it is en masse that we would deal with them through treaties. There is simply too much at stake to take such a chance.

  “Besides, I disagree with you when you say they have something worthwhile to offer us. From what I have seen, an alliance between us would work largely to their advantage. They are a clumsy, primitive people whose technological achievements have outstripped their moral evolution.”

  “They are being treated as prisoners, looked upon by many with disgust. That is hardly an atmosphere conducive to cultural understanding,” Ryo argued. “They must have all sorts of things to offer us, from the arts through the sciences. This in addition to military alliance against the AAnn.”

  “I am sorry, my boy. The only thing I’ve noticed about them that has made much of an impression on me so far is their violence and their smell, both of which I believe we could survive without. I am surprised you cannot see this.”

  “Perhaps—perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’ve been deluding myself. The days out there in the clith …”

  “The strain is quite understandable,” Wuu said sympathetically. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I guess you’re right. Surely all the specialists cannot be wrong. I need … just some time. The excitement of the moment of contact, of mutual supportiveness out there …”

  “I know it is discouraging, but this is the time for calm consideration of all the facts, not just those you may have been exposed to personally, my boy. You were not alone in your thinking, by the way. Many of the scientific study group favored expanding contact with these people. But at the last, when time came to make the actual decision, they too realized it was better to err on the side of caution. Enthusiasm always gives way under the assault of reason and good judgment.

  “You have come a long way from the fields of Paszex. It must be discouraging to see the adventure come to an end, but eventually youthful enthusiasms must give way to reality. The reality is that such contact is not regarded as advantageous by the majority of elders here. I am pleased you have matured sufficiently to realize the truth of this.”

  “What you say about my enthusiasm is undeniably true,” Ryo quietly confessed. He sighed and his thorax pulsed. “At least I will be permitted to remain to study these fascinating creatures further.”

  “It is not a question of permission, as you well know. The authorities actively solicit your assistance. It is conceivable that had you not agreed to do so, they might have invoked security edicts to keep you here. Your experiences are unique, as is your relationship with the monsters.

  “At least you will have one nongovernment friend here while I remain, though flexible and ingratiating as you are, I’ve no doubt you will soon have many friends among the staff.”

  “It will be comforting to know you are around,” Ryo told him. “Such discussion as we have just concluded is exhilarating as well as enlightening.”

  “For me as well. More material for the massive volume I intend to compile that will detail our entire journey. An arduous work, but one which I look forward to completing. It will be a monument.”

  They continued the discussion, arguing animatedly and enjoyably, as they made their way down the corridors. Their rooms were located close to the large chamber where the aliens were being kept.

  As Ryo learned more of the layout of what was called X Section he was able to see how the authorities had managed to conceal the aliens. The xenology section was completely independent of the main installation. It had its own supply and power facilities, its own staff, even its own entrances and exits.

  Only three narrow corridors connected it with the rest of the base, which had been built as part of the planetary defense system. Those Thranx who staffed the latter prepared for an attack that they hoped would never come, blissfully ignorant of the sensitive research being carried out close at hand.

  Ryo relaxed in the hygienic corner of his comparatively luxurious quarters and cleaned himself with the damp scented cloth.

  Wuu had immediately accepted Ryo’s conversion to the majority opinion. The old poet was clever, even brilliant, but his brilliance did not make him a master of deception. Ryo was certain others were assigned to watch him.

  Poor Wuu, he thought. A composer of the Eint order. For all his imagination and abilities he could see no further than his own specialty. Wuu was a poet, and a masterful one. He was also an elder whose thinking had become as predictable as the midseason rains. Petrification of the imagination seemed to have infected everyone of any authority. Ryo was coming to believe he was the only one able to spark a new thought, a fresh idea.

  That was only natural. That had been his talent since larvahood. Yes, that’s my profession, he thought excitedly. That’s what I was intended to do—to initiate newness, to break convention. All this time, all these years, he’d sublimated his real profession by breaking jungle ground, when the topography he should have been attacking was that of conventional wisdom.

  If Wuu was convinced Ryo had come around to the accepted way of thinking, then there was no reason to suppose the staff scientists would think otherwise. But Ryo would still have to be patient, would have to bide his time. He smiled inwardly. I’ve done that before. This time, however, the unknown territory I have to cross is somewhat greater then the distance between Paszex and Daret.

  This time he would also not be fleeing by himself.

  XI

  Arranging a private conversation with Loo and Bonnie was less difficult than he’d imagined. When the monsters understood what was wanted they simply organized a group singalong. The rest of the monsters generated sufficient noise to drown out the most sensitive directional pickup. In addition, the new phenomenon of collective sound kept the fascinated researchers busy at their instrumentation. The volume was much greater than an equal number of Thranx could have produced.

  “This is a tremendous burden you’ve taken on yourself,” Loo told Ryo softly. “You’re going against the considered opinion of all your superiors.”

  “They’re not my superiors.”

  “Your elders then,” Bonnie said. She looked away from him, a gesture he’d learned indicated general uncertainty of approximately the third degree. “It may be, Ryo, that they are correct. I realize I’m hurting our own cause by saying that, but this is not the time for prevarication. Throughout human history, we’ve often questioned our own motives for fighting among ourselves. Many times we cannot come up with satisfactory explanations for what we do. It may be that, as your psychtechs insist, we are inherently homicidal.”

  “Then this alliance will be of more benefit to you than you can imagine,” Ryo told her. “We Thranx are not very excitable. We are very good at reasoning things through and seeing to the heart of misunderstandings. Perhaps what you’ve always needed are friends who will not fight with you, but who are ever available to explain and to soothe.”

  “Perhaps.” She looked back at him. “I do know one thing. Regardless of what our governments decide to do, we three have consummated our own little alliance.” She reached out a hand to touch one of Ryo’s truhands.

  He grasped it firmly, having learned the significance of the gesture many days ago. There was considerably more power in her fingers
than in his, though with a foothand he could have matched her grip. She was careful not to bruise the more delicate upper digits.

  “Our ship,” Loo whispered, “is still functioning. It’s in a synchronous orbit above us right now.”

  “How do you know that?” Ryo asked, a little startled.

  “Because while Bonnie and I were free, they ferried some of our friends to it to answer questions about design and function. Certain queries were answered. Others were not. There was no coercion.”

  “Naturally not.” Ryo was upset at the very thought.

  “Our people are different,” Loo murmured. “Anyway, our shipmates report no dismantling of components. Not yet, anyway. We’d nearly completed repair of the damage the AAnn had done to the drive when your own exploration ship stumbled into us. Our engineers are confident they can finish the few repairs remaining in sufficiently short time to make an escape feasible.”

  “How are we to reach your ship? I’m an agricultural expert. I know nothing of astrophysical matters.”

  “But that’s not a problem!” Bonnie told him excitedly. “They wanted to study our mechanics and design with advanced diagnostic equipment, so they induced Alexis and Elvira,” she pointed to two of the wailing monsters, “to bring one of our shuttles down. It’s right here, in the base.”

  “Separate hangar,” Ryo muttered, “to conceal it from the general personnel.”

  “Our friends argued about it. Eventually Alexis agreed because they threatened to take the shuttle apart inside our ship. Getting to the shuttle will be the problem. I’m sure it must be under heavy guard.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Loo made the frown gesture with his rubbery mouth-parts. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “What reason is there to guard a shuttle? There is only need to guard its pilots. You are here, the ship is elsewhere. Keeping you apart is security enough. No Thranx, of course, would think of assisting a bunch of monsters.”

  “Thanks,” Loo said drily. “Except you, of course.”

  “And I am possibly mad. By helping you, I will become something of a monster to my own people.” He paused reflectively, added in a different tone, “You realize, of course, that if there is no resultant alliance, that if friendship does not materialize between our races, then I will be effectively dead.”

  Neither of them said anything.

  “Excuse me,” he said apologetically. “That was impolite. Those are not thoughts to be inflicted on others. This is my own free decision. Nothing compels me to do this.

  “I demand only one thing in return for my assistance. That if our escape should be opposed, under no circumstances will you or any of your hivemates kill to facilitate it.”

  They looked uncomfortable. “We can promise for ourselves,” Bonnie agreed, “but I don’t know about the others. If we’re close to making it back to the Seeker, I’m not sure one or two would not hesitate to use any method to insure our successful boarding.”

  “Precisely such traits,” Ryo noted solemnly, “have convinced Thranx scientists that it would be unwise to expand contact between us. You must impress this on your companions. Opinion is still uncertain among some members of the research staff. Killing would forever solidify the feelings against you and would make further contact impossible.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Loo assured him. “We’ll try and convince the others.”

  “Who is clanmother among you?” He made a quick gesture of embarrassment. “I am sorry. I forgot. You have neither clan nor hive organization. You go from family to some sort of loose tribal federation. It must make you feel very alone sometimes. I think that may be part of your problem.”

  “Maybe we are loners compared to the Thranx,” Loo said, “but I think we have more individual freedom. Your own experiences are proof of that.”

  “From this undisciplined freedom comes perhaps your tendencies to—but enough philosophy.” He was concerned that their long conversation might attract the attention of the hidden researchers.

  “I shall try to divine the location of your shuttlecraft, ascertain the difficulties involved in reaching it, and decide on a propitious time to attempt an escape. Since your first successful attempt, security measures have been strengthened, I am told. You are all closely and constantly watched. It will be more difficult this time.”

  “That’s only to be expected,” Loo noted, “but we didn’t have an ally working for us outside before, either.”

  “Very true.” A strange feeling rippled through Ryo, a combination of the way both monsters had stared at him out of their vitreous single-lensed eyes and the way Loo had pronounced the word “ally.”

  Days passed, stretched inexorably into months. Eventually Ryo was allowed to communicate freely with his family. From Fal to sire to clanmates, all were pleased but puzzled. They’d been told that he was engaged in very important, serious work for the government. This had been openly accepted.

  For his part Ryo was pleased to learn that his initial perfidy in ignoring family and clan directives had been put aside. All were content to accept that he was doing useful work and that he would return home when feasible.

  As the days rolled on and the monsters were more tranquil and cooperative, the authorities relaxed their surveillance somewhat, but not even Ryo’s continued assurances that the monsters had come to terms with their fate was enough to convince every member of the observation-and-study staff.

  Most of the monsters could now speak some Thranx. A few Thranx were struggling to acquire fluency in monster speech, though this was deliberately and subtly discouraged on Loo and Bonnie’s orders.

  Ryo was given a formal position with the research team and the title of assistant consultant. The income momentarily took his breath away. It was considerably more than he accumulated as board member for the Inmot Company’s Paszex operations. He felt guilt at accepting such position and compensation when he was spending most of his time planning to contravene everything he was being paid to do, but he accepted it all with apparent gratefulness.

  A time came when even Wuu was ready to return to Willow-wane. The old poet assured Ryo that once his affairs were back to normal he would take the time to travel to Paszex so he could meet with Ryo’s family and assure them of his good health in person.

  In addition to his research work and mastering the human language Ryo also casually acquired a thorough knowledge of X Section and all security measures. The monsters’ shuttlecraft was located in a small hangar nearby. It was subject to intense study by Thranx engineers. Occasionally several closely guarded monsters would be allowed aboard to explain design functions and Ryo would accompany them as interpreter.

  During such visits security surrounding and on board the shuttle quadrupled. Given such precautions, it took Ryo some time to formulate a plan promising even a slight chance of success.

  The fugitives would ignore the corridors save for one. Since Loo and Bonnie’s escape, everything larger than a water pipe was constantly monitored. This time, all would flee quickly topside, then cross to another exit and use it to reenter the base as close as possible to the hangar. Ryo hoped the authorities wouldn’t consider the possibility that once outside, the aliens would then try to escape back inside.

  It was difficult to be patient. Ryo’s pleas for time were backed up by the burrow master—“Captain”—of the aliens, Elvirasanchez. She did not talk much, but her words were listened to.

  Eventually Fourth Season came to an end with the festival of Teirquelot, a cause for celebration among the base personnel. At an outpost as dreary as Sed-Clee, holidays were taken seriously.

  Cannisters of sleep gas had been installed by security personnel around the aliens’ chamber, which precaution was intended to prevent any alien rampage. Ryo planned to turn the security measure to his friends’ advantage.

  Many months had passed since Loo and Bonnie’s escape. Relaxed security combined with the holiday allowed Ryo to slip from room to room wi
thout question. No one saw him readjust the cannister control valves, even though several timeparts of nerve-racking activity were required to complete the job. Now, when the cannisters were activated, they would spew their soporific contents not into the monsters’ quarters but into the surrounding areas.

  Only one corridor was to be left ungassed because it led to an emergency escape ramp that ascended to the surface. Ryo worried some about the aliens’ tolerance, but the humans assured him even Deep Cold would not prevent their making the short run to the next exitway.

  Using ventilation towers, Ryo had triangulated the position of the hangar holding the monsters’ shuttlecraft, then he selected the closest exit port visible. Once inside again, their precise location would determine their next moves. To his unpracticed eye, the exit port seemed quite near to the shuttle hangar.

  He would wait until the guard had been reduced to its minimum, which would probably coincide with the height of celebration. The monsters would feign sound sleep inside their chamber. Then, appropriately masked, Ryo would circle the surrounding rooms, opening the gas cannisters everywhere except in the chosen corridor.

  If standard procedure held, two guards would be stationed in that corridor, and Ryo would somehow have to neutralize them. It should be easy, for they would not be expecting trouble. But it was still the part of the plan that worried him most.

  Once he’d bypassed the instruments that monitored the monsters’ body heat, oxygen consumption, and so forth, the escapees would race to the ramp, shut down the warning unit that would indicate it was in use, exit, and run across the frozen landscape to the exit above the hangar. There they would descend, overwhelm whatever guards might be present, and power up their shuttle. The hangar doors would be programmed to open and several minutes after entering the hangar they would lift clear.