Nor Crystal Tears

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by Foster, Alan Dean;

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.

  Chapter Eleven

  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 t® 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 mouth­parts. "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 clanmate
s, 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 carne 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, Elvira sanchez. 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 without 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.

  At least, that was how the escape was envisioned. Ryo and his friends studied it repeatedly, refining movements, trying to shorten the necessary time. Whether the plan would work or not remained to be seen. There could be no trial run.

  It was a particularly dark and cold night. Ryo hurriedly retreated from the observation post, though his presence did not surprise the indifferent guard, who attended to his fiction chips and ignored the consultant. Ryo's peculiar af­fection for the surface was well known throughout X Sec­tion, confirmed by those who'd researched his past.

  Omoick, the larger moon, was new and black. Oxnuick, the smaller, was only half full. That should aid conceal­ment as they made the dangerous run from one exit to the next.

  He made his way back toward the study sector, occasion­ally greeting cheery celebrants. Not all of them were drunk, but all were involved in season end celebration and little else. A quality that may not facilitate intellectual ad­vancement, he mused, but one which both races shared.

  No one questioned Ryo's presence as he ambled from room to room checking instrumentation. Most of the study chambers were empty. A few were temporarily occupied. He waited in those until their inhabitants departed, then quickly activated the altered cannister controls. The sleep gas was odorless and colorless. If you knew it was present you had seconds in which to flee. If not, you quietly suc­cumbed.

  He did not have to use the small filter mask he carried in his vest except once when he thought to check a room originally empty.

  A young researcher was preparing a report on the con­jectured premating nocturnal habits of the monsters. She was having a difficult time because the aliens were not cooperating much in that area. Ryo watched from the cor­ridor as she started to enter her observation room, halted, swayed for an instant, then toppled onto her right side.

  Retreating, he closed a corridor barrier, shoved several wads of expanding plastic against it to insure a tight seal. He repeated this with doorways on the opposite side of the corridor. Then he hurried inward, steeling himself.

  Only a single guard was, mounted where he'd expected two, but this advantage was mitigated when the guard turned and recognized him.

  "Good evening, Consultant."

  "Good evening." Ryo fought to recall the guard's name. Time was ticking away. "How are they behaving, Eush?"

  "Quiet, as always." The guard held his energy rifle loosely as he looked past Ryo. Was some half gassed scien­tist staggering down the corridor toward them, waving frantic alarm gestures at the guard?

  The corridor was deserted save for the two of them. The guard was gazing longingly, not specifically. "Sounds like everyone else is having a fine time."

  "An energetic celebration," Ryo agreed tensely.

  "I wish I could join them."

  "Why don't you? I've nothing to do this evening. This far from clan and friends I don't feel much like celebrating.­ I'm qualified to assume watch for you."

  "That's very gracious of you." The guard wavered. "Bu
t it would be my star for deserting my post. I couldn't possi­bly, not even on the permission of one so highly regarded as yourself. I thank you, however, for your generous of­fer."

  "As you wish. A shame." He stepped past the guard. Just ahead lay the monsters' holding chamber and the bar­rier with its multiple sensor lock's. Behind it, twelve mon­sters feigned sleep. They retained their personal chronome­ters. Though their time markings and splits differed from normal time, they had been able to coordinate them suffi­ciently with Ryo's for them to be stirring uneasily by now.

  "Those two lovely females waiting back there, for exam­ple," Ryo said smoothly, "have accompanied me this far and are anxious for celebratory companionship. See them whispering, the one with the turquoise chiton and her com­panion of the gilded ovipositors?"

  "Where?" The guard stepped cautiously to one side and tried hard to see up the darkened corridor. "Perhaps they might join us here? Nothing was said about my not cele­brating at my own post.

  "Hello," he called out. "My name is Eushminyowot, friends of the consultant!" He said nothing more because of the weighted cloth that Ryo brought down hard against the back of his skull. The guard fell as silently as those who'd inhaled the sleep gas. His chiton whacked sharply on the hard floor.

  "Rest and celebrate in your dreams," Ryo said. Then he hurried the last steps down the passageway and ran the combination of the sensor locks. For a few seconds nothing happened and he wondered frantically if someone had changed the combination without notifying him. Then the door slid slowly into the wall. Standing behind it were a dozen anxious aliens.

  For just an instant the sight of their horribly flexible masks looming over him in the dim light sent a stab of fear through Ryo. Then the inherited fears faded as Loo and Elvira stepped out into the corridor, bending low to clear the ceiling. A couple of the monsters exchanged words when they saw the motionless body of the guard.

  "Quickly now, we've no time to waste," Ryo said ur­gently.

 

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