Nor Crystal Tears

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  "Big mistake," he said. "Cosmic mistake. You must do something. Out here," and he gestured at the surrounding forest, "you will die." He did not include himself in that prediction. It was self evident.

  "Better to die here," Loo said roughly, "than in captiv­ity, poked and prodded at like an exhibit in a zoo."

  "No need for that," Ryo said encouragingly. "Silly mis­take. Silliness in proportion to size. We must go back. I can explain everything. I can interpret for you. When mistake explained by me, will be clear to all. We will be friends, allies. Not enemies."

  "I don't know ..." Loo made a gesture of third degree indecision. "The way we were treated ..."

  "Were you killed? Are you dead?"

  "No, we're not dead. We've been reasonably well fed." He made a face gesture of mild disgust.

  "More mistakes. Must return and explain all mistakes." Ryo implored them with gestures. "Trust me. I will explain everything."

  "We would wander this place forever to keep our free­dom," Loo told him.

  "Not a logical end of itself," Ryo countered. "Also an­other factor." Maybe, he thought, it wasn't self evident. "I ... my people Thranx cannot tolerate long cold weather." He'd felt his circulation slowing the past several nights. "I will surely die. Will you kill me to preserve your freedom, which has no logical end of itself?" There, he thought as he leaned back against the log. There is the real test. Now he would learn just how civilized they were.

  "Most of what you say is truth," Bonnie declared fi­nally. "We would not like to be responsible for your death. We have been careful not to kill. Yet. You have been friend. There are misunderstandings here, on both sides." She looked up at Loo and for a moment Ryo thought they might also be telepathic.

  "Friend speaks truth," she restated. "We'll go back with you."

  "Next problem," said Loo. "Can we find our way back?"

  "I think so." Ryo gestured skyward. "In any case, if we make our presence known when a search ship flies over, we will be found."

  The hoverer set down nearby. There was a tense con­frontation between Ryo and a group of net and stinger­wielding soldiers. Disbelief gave way grudgingly to guarded astonishment. The two monsters were conducted to the base under watchful eyes instead of netting. There they de­scended via a heavily sealed entryway to a section Ryo had visited before. The gestures of complete amazement per­formed by the officer who'd previously refused him ad­mittance were lively to behold.

  Torplublasmet was not present to greet him, having been questioned and allowed to return to his burrow, but Wuu was. "My boy." He spoke while looking past Ryo at the two monsters towering nearby. "I'd given you up days ago. I've been asked many questions, which I answered sorrow­fully and freely. How we came to be here, and why. But you appear whole and healthy. I thought they would have consumed you by now."

  "Not at all. That would have been impolite, and these are civilized creatures. They can't help their appearance. Their ship was attacked by the AAnn. They thought we were responsible.

  "If we can overcome the unfortunate beginning our re­spective species have managed to make, they may prove to be strong allies. There has been mutual misunderstanding of colossal proportions."

  "What are you saying, Ryo?" Loo asked.

  Wuu and the other Thranx looked properly shocked. "By the central burrow, they can talk!"

  "Sometimes situation and precedent can combine to blunt, rather than facilitate communication," Ryo ex­plained smoothly. He looked up at Loo. "This friend of mine," and he pronounced the alien name, "is a he, the other a she." He then gestured at Wuuzelansem, gave his name, and tried to explain what a poet was.

  The monsters soon deciphered the gestures and clicks. Then they shocked the assembled researchers, guards, and Wuu alike by simultaneously gesturing at the poet with a movement indicative of third degree respect mixed with mild admiration.

  "They may be monsters," Wuu decided, "but they dis­play an unarguable ability to recognize higher intelligence when it is presented to them."

  "Come, let's go in," Bonnie said to Ryo. "We want you to meet our companions."

  Ryo followed, Wuu hanging back just a trifle. The guards hesitated but the Thranx scientists and researchers in the group gestured them aside.

  The party passed through several corridors, the monsters having to bend to clear the ceilings. Eventually they en­tered a large chamber. The saddles inside appeared unused, for obvious reasons of physiology.

  Six monster males and four females lay alone or in small groups on the floor. To Ryo's untrained eye, half of them looked damaged.

  As he watched, the aliens suddenly recognized Loo and Bonnie. A great deal of noise and physical contact resulted. Alien greetings, he explained to the enraptured scientists, who stood clustered in the open doorway, recorders run­ning at maximum speed.

  When the greetings were concluded, Loo and Bonnie turned to Ryo. "Well, it was good to be outside for a while, anyway," said Loo.

  Ryo responded with a gesture of mild negativity. "Good to be back inside." He added a whistling laugh while the two monsters made their own laughter noises. It was difficult to tell who was more flabbergasted; the Thranx scien­tists or the other monsters in the chamber.

  "Different preferences," Bonnie said, running a hand through her cranial fur.

  "Yes," Ryo agreed. He gestured past her. "How are your friends?"

  "Pleased to see us alive," Loo said. "Disappointed that we could not do more. I explained to them that we now have a friend. This they understood, for a friend can often be worth more than freedom."

  "I am sure it will be so," Ryo replied confidently. "I will explain all to these authorities." He indicated the rows of busy Tbranx crowded around them. "This mistake will be straightened out soonest. There is much to do between our peoples."

  "Yes," Bonnie said. "There is nothing like a mutual en­emy," and she made the gesture for the AAnn, "to produce understanding among potential friends."

  One of the officials was gesturing urgently to Ryo. He turned back to his friends. "They want to talk to me now and I am equally anxious to talk with them. Will you be well?"

  "Well enough," Loo replied.

  "Then all is calm for now. I will return as soon as I am able. Burrow deep and warm." He inclined his head slightly and extended his antennae.

  "Be warm," Bonnie said, reaching out to touch the tips of the delicate organs.

  Several of the Thranx guards turned away or otherwise indicated their disgust. Of sterner stuff, the researchers and scientists simply recorded the exchange with cool de­tachment. Then Ryo turned and joined Wuu and the little cluster of specialists gathering around him. The two aliens rejoined their own companions, who crowded excitedly around them.

  Ryo was escorted to a nearby chamber and promptly sat down in a comfortably padded saddle. The scientists who'd packed in around him immediately threw a barrage of questions at him.

  "What was it like? ... What did they do out there? What did they do to you out there? ... How did you learn the language so quickly? ... How did they learn

  ours so quickly? ... How did they avoid the search par­ties for so long? ... How? ... Why? ... When? ..."

  "Slowly, gentlesirs. I will " He paused, suddenly dizzy.

  Wuu stepped close. "Leave the youth alone for now. Can't you sense his exhaustion? Doubtless he is weak from hunger as well."

  Ryo looked gratefully up at the poet, made a third­degree gesture of assent. "I am far from starving, though it would be wonderful to have a good soup. I've had little but meat and raw greens for a month."

  "Then they are omnivorous like us?" one scientist in­quired anxiously. "It seemed thus because they ate much of what we supplied them, but it is helpful to have it con­firmed by nonlaboratory experience."

  "I said, no questions," Wuu broke in firmly.

  But Ryo gestured his confirmation. "Yes, though they take their meat largely in burnt chunks and not in proper soup or stew."

  There was mutteri
ng among the assembled researchers at this fresh assurance of alien oddity.

  "They don't boil it or cook it with any other liquids?"

  "Not that I saw."

  "But they eat soups and stews here," another pointed out.

  "It may not have been by choice," Ryo told her. "When one is in prison, one eats what is supplied." There, let them ponder that one, he thought.

  After a few additional questions Wuu began to shove of­ficials from the chamber. A hot meal was delivered that was among the finest Ryo had ever enjoyed. Upon devour­ing it he had a second and then a third serving. Following that he lay down on the sleeping lounge provided, the warm feeling induced by the food overpowering his excite­ment, and fell into a deep sleep from which he did not awaken for over a full day.

  Chapter Ten

  After rising and performing hygiene he was ready to face his interrogators. Ap­parently someone had decided that it would be better not to swamp the unfortunate wanderer with a hundred questioners at once, so only a half­ dozen assembled opposite Ryo in the discussion chamber. Each brought audio and video recorder units integrated with autoscrolls. Two were not much older than he, while the other four were clearly experienced elders. Wuu was present at his own insistence.

  "It's not necessary," Ryo had argued. "I can handle things."

  "If not for me you wouldn't be here," the poet had re­plied. "I feel it my responsibility to see that you are not intimidated."

  "If not for me, you wouldn't be here."

  "I have acquired sufficient material to keep me compos­ing for the remainder of my life," Wuu declared. "Such heady rhythms and couplets and stanzas as have never been heard. They will shock the civilized worlds. I owe you that. Time enough to work later." He gestured toward the saddled group. "These sirs and ladies wait patiently, yet their brains fester with curiosity." A couple shifted uneasily at the poet's words but waited their turn. "I would not let them wake you."

  "For which I am very grateful," Ryo admitted. "I am awake and ready now, so let them ask what they will."

  Ryo accepted the questions slowly, sharing his knowl­edge of the aliens freely and imparting it with as much pleasure as the scientists seemed to feel in receiving it.

  "The business of communication came about almost ac­cidentally," he informed them. "Furthermore, if you use lungs, mandibles, and spicules carefully, you can duplicate their language quite well." He demonstrated with a few words that he was especially good at, and was rewarded when a couple of the researchers who'd been inscribing in­formation suddenly looked up as startled as if one of the aliens had just strode into the room.

  "Do that again," one of them requested.

  They listened while Ryo repeated the phrase and added several others. "It is difficult, but by no means impossible," he said. "They do seem, however, better able to master our language than we theirs. Yet I venture to say it can be done. I've no doubt an experienced linguist such as your­self," and he gestured at the Thranx who'd asked him to repeat the sounds, "could do far better."

  "Let me try." The researcher listened. On his second at­tempt he made the noise comprehensible. It had taken Ryo many more attempts than two to voice the term that clearly, but communication was the elder's specialty. He should have thrown away his machines.

  The others had to break in or the discussion would have quickly been monopolized by an impromptu language les­son.

  "Pressure of circumstances," the elder commented. "Foolish of us not to realize it."

  "They are mammalian," said one of the younger scien­tists, whose name was Repleangel. "We've already estab­lished that. However, they are almost completely bare of fur. Most extraordinary."

  "We thought at first," one of the other scientists said, "that it might be due to a seasonal variation."

  "I don't think so," Ryo said. "I saw no evidence for it. Devoid of fur or not, their ability to withstand extreme cold is unarguable."

  "From our point of view, not necessarily theirs," said Rep.

  "They were always cold, but never dangerously so," Ryo continued. "I often saw them remove portions of their ex­tensive clothing to expose their naked, furless bodies to the air while they cleaned themselves. I would guess that the climate they would consider ideal must average some ten to twenty degrees cooler than our own. Furthermore, they seem to have no need whatsoever for moisture in the air. They must therefore find the environment you have pro­duced in their room both overly hot and humid."

  "Are you certain of this lack of need for humidity?"

  "All I can say is that in this polar region my lungs would have cracked without the moisture pack I wore. The mon­sters had no such device and seemed to thrive. I still shud­der to think of their breathing that untreated air. I venture to say they could even survive on the worlds of the AAnn, which are notoriously dry if pleasantly warm. That is an­other factor which makes them valuable allies."

  As he said the last his gaze went sideways to the sixth questioner. So far the military representative had asked nothing. He did not react visibly to Ryo's last comment any more than he bad to any of the previous ones. He simply sat in his saddle and monitored his instruments.

  Ryo let it pass. At least the thought had been planted.

  The questions went on and on. "How many sexes do they have?"

  "Two, like us."

  "Male and female?"

  "Yes."

  "Do they lay eggs or bear their young alive?"

  "I have no idea. That wasn't a question that entered into general conversation."

  "Do they have sexual taboos?"

  "Your line of questioning strikes me as peculiar, elder."

  "They cook their meat by burning it over an open fire?"

  "Their cooking facilities were restricted. Maybe they re­quire the additional carbon. Or it might be purely a ritual thing. I never asked."

  "Is their vision comparable to ours? They utilize only those two simple single lensed eyes."

  "It seems to be. They can see much farther, I think, but not as well up close or in the dark."

  Then came the voice of the military observer, speaking for the first time, in a soft whistle. "They took energy ri­fles from two of the guards."

  "Something I meant to ask," Ryo said quickly. "Was any­one injured during their escape?"

  "Injured, yes, but fortunately not killed. As you've no­ticed, they are physically more massive than we. Their bal­ance is unexpectedly good."

  "Yes, I noticed that right away," Ryo admitted.

  "They are not as vulnerable to a severe blow as we are," the military elder went on, "but they are far more suscepti­ble to damage from cuts and scrapes. Their thin exoderm is incredibly fragile. However, if it is torn it heals far more rapidly than a chiton break. There are pluses and minuses to such a structure."

  "Beauty is not one of the pluses," commented one of the two younger scientists, adding a gesture of third degree disgust.

  "The two guards," the tenth level officer continued, "were merely stunned during the escape, when their rifles were taken. The planning was admirable. They set off two explosions "

  "We heard them both," Wuu said.

  "They were set to create a diversion. This was accom­plished. Those who misinterpreted the situation have al­ready been disciplined. The creatures took, as I said, two energy rifles, yet did not use them." He shifted in his sad­dle, putting a little urgency into his tone. "You said you observed them in use?"

  "Yes," Ryo replied. "I'm sure they studied the weapons around them before settling on the rifles. Despite having only two arms and hands, they seemed to manage quite well. I have no doubt that had the circumstances required it, they could have employed them against soldiers as effi­ciently as they did against game."

  The officer did not seem surprised at this, simply en­tered it into his recorder. "Did they talk at all about their home world or about their vessels?"

  "Nothing about their planet of origin save that it was colder than Hivehom seemed to
be. Little about their ship except that the principles behind its method of propulsion seemed similar to ours. Neither of them is an engineer."

  "Anything about weapons, military strength, or pos­ture?"

  Ryo had been waiting for that question from the time the officer had taken his saddle. Nevertheless, he was sur­prised at the resentment he felt when it was finally asked.

  "Nothing whatsoever. They are explorers. Their sole concern and principal subject of conversation was survival. Military matters were not mentioned."

  The officer mumbled something half audible. "... couldn't expect much ..." Then louder, "For your own information, we found nothing during our study of their ship to hint they are especially advanced militarily. What we have been able to glean of their social structure indicates they are not, for example, organized in a paramilitary society like the AAnn."

  "I could have told you that," Ryo said confidently.

  "However, they display certain worrisome characteristics of both social and individual temperament."

  "I don't understand, elder." Ryo was uncertain how to interpret the officer's last statement. "I've already told you that they thought we were the ones who'd attacked them. They are more than ready I would even say anxious to form an alliance with us against the AAnn. This despite unfortunate differences of shape. They find us only slightly less disconcerting physically than we find them."

  "That is difficult to believe," the second young re­searcher murmured.

  One of the elders scolded him. "That is not a scientific attitude, Drin."

  "I know it's not, but I cannot so easily wipe out thou­sands of years of mental conditioning. They are mammals, no matter how similar their minds might be. Soft of exte­rior and flexible of form. My insides turn whenever I have to look at them." He swiveled to eye Ryo.

  "I understand you actually engaged in physical contact with them, even to the point of extending formal farewells."

  "They are not at all that repulsive," Ryo insisted. "It's merely a matter of seeing them as people. As I've men­tioned, they feel the same way about the tiny arthropods on their own worlds. We are each the stuff of the other's nightmares. These are primitive attitudes that both races must fight to overcome. There is no logic to them."