Nor Crystal Tears

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  "Surely," he told the smaller monster, "you don't intend for us to go outside? Neither of you has proper clothing." Though extensive, their attire was not nearly as thick as his byorlesnath pelt, and they had no head covering what­soever.

  The second monster prodder Ryo forward. After a brief pause during which he thought he might prefer a quick, hot death from the energy rifle to a slow, freezing one out­side, he opted to survive as long as possible and started into the driving clith.

  They staggered through the frozen rain. Ryo did not no­tice when they crossed the boundary fence. He was certain, though, that they'd left the base well behind because before long they were making a path through the forest.

  That they'd been able to slip out undetected did not shock him. After all, the weather was dreadful and as slim as the thought was that someone might try to break into a military base, the concept of breaking out of one verged on the absurd. He had no doubt the search for the escaping monsters was continuing more intensively than ever, just as he had no doubt that it was still confined to the interior of the burrows.

  Clearly these creatures were better adapted to cold than his own kind. They moved steadily through temperatures that would have killed an unprotected Thranx in minutes. Or an AAnn, he told himself, taking some encouragement from that thought.

  From time to time one would simply wipe accumulated clith from its face, ignoring the freezing liquid that ran down head and neck. This redoubled their alienness in Ryo's eyes.

  Yet they were not immune to cold. Onrushing night brought a further drop in the temperature. The clith had ceased falling, which was some relief. At that point the monsters did the first sensible thing since leaving the base. They located a considerable hollow beneath several fallen logs and beckoned him inside. One of them removed a tiny, thin metal tube from its clothing. Ryo did not recognize the tube, but he was familiar with the faint aroma of the parti­cles the monster sprinkled from it.

  These fell on a pile of reasonably dry wood, which im­mediately burst into flame. Ryo edged as close to it as he dared, not wanting his pelt to catch fire. The monsters ex­tended their bare hands toward the warming flames. The cold was deep enough now to trouble even them.

  "Listen, I don't know what you intend to do with me," he said softly, "but I won't make you a very valuable hos­tage."

  This brief speech caused them to begin making strange mouth noises at each other. Ryo tried to see how they formed the sounds, and it did not take long to figure out that they employed air from their lungs, or at least from inside their bodies. Modulation probably came from move­ments of their flexible mandibles and the peculiar fleshy organ soft creatures sometimes possessed inside their mouths. They did not communicate by making word tones with their mandibles. Soft as the creatures were, that was not surprising.

  They made the sounds in their throats, not at the mandi­bles. He did not have that internal mouth appendage, but he thought he could approximate some of the sounds.

  A first try produced a mildy surprising little bark. He was not nearly as startled by the attempt as the monsters were. The smaller one, after a brief pause, looked straight at him and repeated the noise. He tried again, forcing him­self to keep his mandibles apart and utilize, only moving air.

  This had an interesting effect on the creatures, for they once again set to gargling furiously among themselves.

  He made the sound a third time. The monster responded with a different one. When Ryo tried to imitate it, he failed completely. His initial confidence evaporated. His mouth parts simply could not duplicate that volume and pitch.

  As an alternative, he responded with a whistle and click of his own. The monsters did not make any more noises. Instead, they huddled close to each other.

  Ryo gave a mental shrug and pushed himself into a cor­ner. He lay on his left side, watching them. It was dark outside now. The monsters still cradled their energy rifles, and they watched him intently.

  It suddenly occurred to him that they might be afraid of him. That was a ludicrous thought. They were twice his size, twice his number, and heavily armed. The only thing he had in his defense was the fact that they were strangers on his world.

  I suppose that's frightening enough, he thought sadly. Poor monsters. I mean you no harm, and I hope you can feel the same about me.

  One of them closed both eyes and he wondered what it might be like to have eyelids. The creature was going to sleep, and it was another relief to learn they had that in common. The taller one remained conscious, watching Ryo.

  Watch all you wish, he thought. I am going to sleep myself. He let his vision dim, his thoughts weaken. He was very tired.

  He was so tired the dim realization did not rouse him. I thought their smell was half familiar, he thought exhaust­edly to himself. Now I remember what it reminds me of.

  The aliens smelled very much like the yaryinfs ... Thranx eaters.

  Chapter Nine

  Search parties came close the following day but did not find them. By the third day Ryo and the monsters were so deep into the forest Ryo doubted anyone ever would.

  Occasionally, search aircraft would slowly pass over­head. At such times the monsters concealed themselves and their hostage beneath tree roots or overhanging rocks. Once they even buried themselves into the clith, which badly strained the temporary truce between monster and Thranx because the thought of immersing himself in that numbing cold was nearly too much for Ryo to bear. They settled for his remaining motionless against a small rock, trusting to his pelt to camouflage him.

  The next day one of the monsters demonstrated its fa­miliarity with the energy rifle by using it to kill a small emlib. The furry herbivore jerked once and was still. Ryo watched with interest as the creature drew a small Thranx knife from a pocket and neatly butchered the carcass, which was then roasted over an open, largely smokeless fire.

  The larger monster offered a piece to Ryo. While he nor­mally would have disdained so uncivilized a meal, he knew that if he didn't eat hunger would kill him before the cold did. He accepted the meat, holding it under the head of his pelt as he bit off small chunks with his mandibles and swallowed them whole. Some vegetables would have helped, mixed together with the meat in a proper stew, but he was thankful enough for just the protein.

  It was comparatively warm that night. The next day, they crossed ground that was mostly devoid of clith. As they walked Ryo was startled when one of the monsters suddenly began to whistle. There was rhythm but no sense to the sounds. It was very similar to the crude speech of a newly hatched larva.

  Perhaps it was simply their mode. He tried imitating the sound, managed to match it almost perfectly the first time. It was simple compared to the monsters' more common communications noises.

  The monsters looked pleased and whistled back at him. At that point Ryo wondered if the researchers who'd stud­ied these creatures had concentrated only on trying to learn their guttural language instead of trying to teach them Thranx. If so, they probably tried to use electromechanical interpreters. And for various reasons the monsters might not have been interested in cooperating with the study.

  Stopping, he pointed importantly to the nearest bush. "Slen," he whistled. He gestured again, adding movement indicative of third degree importance. "Slen." He repeated it several times, much slower than normal, drawing out the whistle comically.

  The monsters hesitated. The larger seemed to argue with the smaller. That was only Ryo's impression. For all he knew they might have begun a mating ritual.

  Turning to Ryo, the smaller monster hesitated a moment longer, then formed its pair of flexible mandibles into a circular opening. The sight was so disgusting Ryo had to force himself to watch.

  But it produced a fine whistle. "Men," it said, also pointing at the bush.

  "No, no," he said. "Try again." He touched the bush. "Slen."

  "Zh ... slen," it said.

  Ryo again touched the bush, said "slen," and added the movement for affirmation. The mons
ter repeated the word, but left off the gesture.

  At that point Ryo glimpsed part of the trouble and was further amazed. These creatures spoke only with their lungs! They apparently never utilized their whole bodies.

  Without thinking, excitement completely overwhelming normal caution, he walked up to the monster and took hold of one of its upper limbs. Both reacted sharply, but the smaller one did not pull away. Ryo pointed to the bush, said "slen," and made the affirmation gesture again.

  This time, after the monster repeated the word, Ryo moved its limb in the gesture of affirmation. The limb moved freely, but the feel of it made him a little ill. He fought to retain his composure. If the researchers studying these creatures had thought to try the same thing it would not have surprised him to learn that the larger monster had thrown its inquisitor into the nearest wall.

  Sometimes physical contact means more than mental, he mused. Fal had told him that. It was an important rule to remember while teaching larvae.

  He let go of the arm, stood back, and made the click sound signifying "do you understand?" The monster stared at him. He repeated the sound.

  The monster slowly made the gesture for "yes," then pointed at the bush and whistled "slen." He was about to try the word for clith when the larger monster, which had been watching intently while keeping the muzzle of the ri­fle pointed at Ryo, suddenly walked over and touched the bush. It looked at Ryo, made a gargling sound, then pointed at Ryo and used some part of its internal mouth parts to click, "Do you understand?"

  Ryo was so overjoyed he almost forgot to make the ges­ture of affirmation. Then he said "slen" and tried to imi­tate the monster's own mouth noise.

  At that point the monsters made a whole series of very loud mouth noises accompanied by a great deal of mutual touching.

  The whistles, he knew, were produced by forcing air past those soft mandibles. It took him a while and the pa­tience of the smaller monster to discover how they produced their clicks. These sounds were softer than his own. Instead of grinding mandibles together as Thranx did, the monsters apparently utilized their peculiar mouth appendages against the upper parts of their jaws. The resultant words were sloppily executed but, if one paid attention, quite comprehensible.

  The point of communication which had eluded them the longest, that of gesturing and posture, turned out to be the simplest for them to duplicate, once they began to under­stand that civilized speech was more than merely a matter of atmospheric modulation.

  By the fifth day Ryo was imitating some of the mon­sters' terms fairly well. As they marched they all engaged in an orgy of identification, beginning with the bush and working up to more complex terminology. Trouble was had with certain gestures because the monsters were short the correct number of limbs. They solved this by using one of their legs as an arm or sitting down to use all four limbs if a quadruple complicated movement was required.

  By midmonth they were carrying on crude conversations. By the end of the month and yet another meal of carbonized emlib Ryo was convinced the authorities had given both him and the monsters up for dead.

  The monsters were not members of different species, which was one thought he'd given some credence to. Like the Thranx their kind had two sexes, but the larger turned out to be a male, the smaller a female. Ryo readily ac­cepted this mild perversion of the natural order. They were not, however, a mated pair, but simply members of the same ship's crew. Their name sounds were "loo" and "bon­nie." They did not have clan or hive names, only personal and family. Ryo allowed them the unusual familiarity of calling him by his personal name alone, since his full name verged on the unpronounceable for them.

  He learned that their skin color and slight difference of eye shape were due to internal racial variations. Other things he already knew by observation, such as the fact that they were omnivorous.

  "Our ship," the larger monster Loo was explaining one day, "hurt by other ship." The term hurt required a double click. Ryo took personal pride in the monster's tolerable pronunciation.

  "What different ... other, ship?"

  The monster stopped. In damp mud he sketched the out­line with one digit. Ryo recognized it immediately. It only confirmed earlier thoughts.

  "AAnn ship," he said. As he repeated the word he picked up a rock and threw it forcefully at the drawing, sending mud splattering. That was one gesture that did not require elaboration.

  "Bad. Not good," the monster agreed, making a gesture of fifth degree and maximum affirmation. Clumsy and un­subtle, Ryo thought, but a least they are learning how to get their thoughts across. The monster emitted a long, rip­pling whistle. "Very bad."

  At least we have one thing in common, Ryo mused. Nei­ther of us has any love for the AAnn. These creatures were not allies of the Thranx's hereditary enemies.

  "Why we imprisoned?" the monster suddenly asked.

  Ryo thought, constructed a simple reply. "My people afraid you AAnn friends."

  The monster made a funny noise that Ryo had not learned how to translate. He asked for an explanation.

  "Funny. Very funny."

  So that was monster laughter, Ryo thought. Most peculiar. "Understand." He then demonstrated the gestures and whistles for first through fifth degree amusement. "No like AAnn, my people," he said. "My people afraid you and AAnn friends."

  The smaller monster said, "Funny. We afraid you Thranx people and AAnn friends. Very funny."

  "Big mistake," Ryo agreed.

  "Very big mistake," the larger monster agreed. "All you Thranx people afraid of us people when capture us. Why afraid? Because afraid we AAnn friends?"

  "Partially," Ryo said. That required further explanation. Understanding was coming quicker to both sides now. "Also another reason."

  "What reason other?" the monster asked.

  " `Other reason,"' Ryo corrected it no, him, he re­minded himself. He hesitated, then decided that if they were offended there wasn't much he could do. It would have to be brought out sooner or later.

  "My people, the Thranx, certain type." He tapped the chiton of his thorax, then a leg, then his head. "On this world, on other my people Thranx worlds, many creatures like you." He pointed to each of them in turn. "Such crea­tures eat Thranx."

  It took them a moment to digest this. Ryo had learned to recognize some of their emotions, which were transmitted not by distinctive gestures but by certain positioning of their flexible face parts. He saw that instead of being angry they were confused.

  The she monster said, "On our worlds, my people afraid of creatures like you Thranx people, only much smaller."

  "Eat your people?" Ryo wondered.

  "Not people. Eat our people food. For long time. Very long time. History."

  "Mine also, all history fear of your creature kind."

  They walked on in silence. After a while he thought it safe to continue. He touched his antennae with a truhand. "Other things, too. You people smell not good."

  The smaller monster made the gesture of apology, with­out adding degree.

  "Not your fault," said Ryo.

  "You," she replied, "smell not like little Thranx kind all history trouble our people. You smell very good." She halted, drew in the mud. Ryo did not recognize the species, but the flower outline was unmistakable. "Like that."

  "Your color also," the he monster added. "Very pretty."

  "Thank you," he replied. "Your colors not so pretty but not so bad as your smell."

  "Your feel ..." The smaller monster reached out slowly. Ryo flinched, forced himself to hold his ground. He'd touched them while demonstrating proper gestures, but neither of them had touched him since Loo had clamped five massive fingers around Ryo's mandibles.

  "Just want to touch," Bonnie said.

  Feeling like a museum exhibit, Ryo stood motionless while the monster ran its fingers under the byorlesnath fur and along his body.

  "My turn now," he said.

  The monster opened its clothing, exposing itself to the air. The sight made R
yo shudder, and he had to remind himself of the creature's extraordinary tolerance for cold. He ran a delicate truhand along the exposed surface, won­dering how closely their bodily divisions and internal or­gans would match up. Too much botany, he told himself, and not enough zoology. Though alien design would not necessarily conform to similar Willow wane shapes, he re­minded himself.

  The most remarkable thing about the body was its flexi­bility. He pressed in lightly. The monster did not complain or pull away. Fascinated, he watched the tip of his finger sink into the flesh. When he pulled his hand away the cov­ering sprang back.

  Such a reaction was normal for plastics and artificial fibers. On the exterior of a living creature it was stomach ­turning. He pressed again, a little firmer. The exoderm changed color slightly. He could even see bodily fluids moving beneath it. Utterly remarkable, he thought. The more so when one realized that the beings inhabiting that thin envelope were intelligent.

  "Strange, so strange," he murmured. "Skeleton inside, flesh outside."

  "We find you same," Bonnie said. "Skeleton outside, flesh inside. Very different."

  "Yes," he agreed, "very different."

  The monsters ate three times a day instead of twice. As they were finishing their odd midday meal Ryo thought to ask a question that had been lost in the excitement of mu­tual education.

  "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"

  They looked at each other. "I do not know, Ryo," Loo said. "We thought you were those who had attacked our ship. We thought you enemies. We were treated like pris­oners."

  "Remember," Ryo reminded them, "my people think you are allies of the AAnn. How then should they treat you but as enemies?"

  "But we're not," Bonnie said. "Especially if you tell truth when you say it was AAnn who attacked our ship."

  The challenge to his veracity was cause for combat. He calmed himself. Remember, he told himself, these crea­tures have but primitive notions of courtesy and common etiquette. They will for some time be as clumsy in their perceptions as they are in their speech.