Nor Crystal Tears

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Nor Crystal Tears Page 22

by Foster, Alan Dean;


  "Yeah. It's sure fun." He studied the lime sundae a while longer. Then his attention shifted to the figure sprawled on its right side on the high bed. He still held onto Bonnie's hand but his other fingers were no longer in his mouth. That was a baby habit, he knew, and he wasn't a baby anymore. He was determined to stop it.

  "Hi, Ryo. "

  "Hello, Matthew."

  "Will you wordwhistle for me again?"

  "Anytime," and he made the Thranx word for happy.

  Matthew's brows drew together. His face twisted and his mandibles pursed tight. At first nothing happened when he blew through them. The second time a soft whistling emerged. He smiled. "How's that?"

  "Very good, but it needs to be higher at the end. That's the whistleword for happy."

  "I know that. You think I'm stupid or somethin'?" He tried again. The sound floated through the room, louder this time.

  "That's better. Much better. Want to try the word for sun up morning?"

  "Naw, not now." He looked up at Bonnie, then back to the figure on the bed. It was a funny bed, be thought, but then Ryo was funny shaped, so he supposed it matched up okay.

  "Want to play horsey?"

  "Sure." Ryo slid off the lounge. Horsey was a young­ human game, in which one partner assumed the part of a domesticated animal. It was all part of a much greater and far more dangerous game.

  He immediately lowered himself to the floor so the boy could climb aboard. It embarrassed him whenever one of the children asked to play the horse.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It doesn't matter who or what you are, Ryo mused. Wherever home is, there is something about its smell that distinguishes it from any other world.

  He inhaled deeply, his thorax expanding with a rush as he gazed around the little clearing. Off to his left, muldringia vine grew thick and close until the unscreened sunlight turned them pale and weak at the clearing's edge. Tall grass wore a corona of bright little yellow flowers. Snuff bugs whizzed through the morning air. His antennae waved through the pollen recently dispersed by an overripe bom­bush. The heady aroma threatened to upset his balance on the ramp.

  "My home." He turned to the open lock and those stand­ing there. "Is it not wonderful?"

  Liquid was already materializing on Bonnie's exposed skin. Bhadravati and several other friends crowded around her, testing the air.

  "Very lush," Bhadravati agreed. "But to us, very hot and terribly humid."

  "A mild second season day," Ryo noted. "I doubt the humidity is much more than 80 percent. With luck it will top a comfortable 90 by midday eve."

  "With luck," Elvira Sanchez muttered gloomily as she leaned through the lock and gazed across the treetops. Her concern was for what might appear from the clouds.

  "If we had been detected on approach," a voice said from inside the ship, "search craft would be overflying this area by now."

  "I know. I'm just a natural worrier," the captain called over a shoulder. Hands on hips, she turned to look past Ryo. "A good place to lose weight, anyway."

  Ryo made a gesture of puzzlement. "Why would you want to lose weight and how?"

  "Cosmetic reasons," she replied. "When we move around in very hot weather, our bodies sweat water and we can lose weight."

  "Extraordinary." Ryo shook his head to indicate amaze­ment, a gesture he had picked up from the human physical vocabulary. "Being constrained by our exoskeletons we are considerably less flexible in such matters."

  "A world without obesity," Bonnie murmured. "That would be enough to induce some humans to visit here."

  "But not enough of them." Bhadravati squinted into the heat. "Hence our illegal visit."

  Highly illegal. The Secretary had provided covert assis­tance and laundered funds, but had made it quite clear that if the project was discovered he would denounce it as vocif­erously as anyone else in the government. Only tremendous pressure from members of the scientific community, in­cited by Rijseen and Bhadravati; had enabled the expedi­tion to literally get off the ground at all.

  Clattering and shouts sounded from below the ramp, where humans and their machines were wrestling with the contents of the shuttle's hold.

  "We should have the first portion of the shelter set up by the time you return," Bonnie told Ryo. "Of course, if you're not back within the prescribed time period "

  "I know. You'll disappear, leaving me with quite a lot of explaining to do. Assuming I am given time to explain."

  "I thought you said your people were highly civilized about such matters."

  "Fear of the unknown, while exaggerated among Homo sapiens, is not completely unknown among the Thranx," he responded. "It is such attitudes we are battling to over­come."

  "I hope you're back in time." She reached out to touch one of his antennae. "Don't get yourself blown apart. You're important. It's not the Thranx we're friends with, yet. It's YOU."

  "I will endeavor most strenuously to preserve myself," he assured her as he started down the ramp. Bonnie and the others followed to the bottom. There they turned to aid in the unloading and setting up.

  Peering up at the shuttle he could see numerous faces pressed against the glass of the tiny ports. Some of the faces were smaller and less well defined than others. Soon, Matthew, he thought at the faces. Soon you'll be able to come out and play. Soon I hope to have a new game for you and your friends.

  Moving through the jungle on foot was slow and awkward, even though he remembered the area reasonably well. That was one of the principal reasons it had been selected. And he had made his way through far wilder and more hostile flora. Oh, so long ago!

  Days passed. Anxiously he kept watch on the frond­ shrouded sky for signs of search craft. After a half month had passed he was finally convinced the shuttle had set down unnoticed.

  Before much more time passed, Ryo found himself standing among the first row of tettoq trees. Across the orchard to his left should be the machine shop where bro­ken field equipment was repaired. He'd emerged from the jungle slightly to the south of the Inmot holdings, but he still recognized the landscape. The jungle had not been pushed back that far since his hurried departure so long ago.

  It was very hard to remain concealed in the trees at the jungle's edge. He wanted more than anything to skitter shouting and yelling down the nearest entryway, but that was not to be, not this night and not for some time, if ever again.

  He waited until sleeptime was well along and the stars were high up behind the cloud cover before leaving the shelter of the jungle. Somehow, as he made his cautious way through the carefully cultivated vegetation, he ex­pected things to be more different then they were. In ac­tuality he hadn't been away that long. Mentally, he'd been absent for years.

  There were no patrols to avoid, since there was nothing to patrol against. Twice he encountered premates or cu­rious youngsters out for a nocturnal stroll. No one recog­nized him. That was fortunate, because only total darkness would have been sufficient to hide his movements com­pletely.

  It would be simpler if they were humans, he thought as he increased his pace after successfully slipping past the most recent pair. Humans were practically blind in weak light. They really are an amazing species, he mused. Con­sider what they have accomplished with poor vision, poor hearing, a weak sense of smell, no faz ability at all, and half the sensible number of limbs. Not to mention the bur­den of wearing their skeletons inside out. Quite remark­able.

  He knew that a great deal was riding on his little night­time stroll. He hurried on a little faster.

  The machine shop had not been moved. No one was guarding the tools or heavy equipment parked outside. Theft was not unknown in the larger hives, but bulky mate­rial was quite safe in a community the size of Paszex be­cause there was no place to steal it to.

  Such trust did not extend to leaving the ignition controls activated, however. Foolishness was present among the ir­reverent in Paszex in proportion to the population. Ryo had a busy half hour jimmying the controls of o
ne harvester so it could be started with ease.

  The machine was used to transport bulk loads from fields to processing chutes. With the familiarity of long practice he started the engine. The harvester slid smoothly forward on triple rows of balloon wheels.

  There was an awkward moment when he parked the harvester outside the particular entryway he intended to use, for some night stroller might think to question the pres­ence of the big machine so far from any agricultural sta­tion. No one appeared, however.

  After altering the internal temperature of the harvester's cargo bay to suit his intentions he slid from the control cab and entered the hive. Nothing unfamiliar assaulted his sen­ses. Yet he didn't feel quite as at home as he'd thought he would. Nothing was different, nothing had been changed. He'd spent most of his life in the very corridors he was now walking. Yet there was a difference, and he feared it was permanent.

  Most of the citizenry were asleep, but some were still hard at work. The regular maintenance crews, for example, were preparing the corridors for the next workday. He had to exercise a little care.

  He descended several levels, turned at a familiar corner, then into his destination. Workers were busier here than just about anywhere else in Paszex. That was no surprise. He knew it would be so, but he could not avoid it.

  "Good evening, sir," the monitor said.

  "Good evening."

  "It's very late, sir."

  "I know, but I had difficulty sleeping and thought I would admire our new cagin." Thranx did not have nieces and nephews. A new birth was relative to all in his clan. The relationship was sufficiently general that Ryo believed he could gain admittance merely by claiming it. Every clan had a new cagin or two in the Nursery.

  The monitor did not question him. "Very well, but be quiet. They are all sleeping soundly."

  "I know. I will be."

  He entered the Nursery proper. The long rows of curved study saddles lay in two orderly rows against the glazed walls. Partitions formed individual cubicles. About three ­fourths of the saddles were occupied by larvae in various stages of maturation.

  How many years ago had he lain in one such saddle? he thought. Immobile, thirsting for knowledge and food, whit­ing away the days in idle study with his Nurserymates while anticipating metamorphosis.

  Now he was in the Nursery again, with a different pur­pose. A glance from the doorway showed only three Nurses present. Even that seemed cause for concern. They moved busily about their tasks.

  None of them disturbed him or thought to question his presence as he made his way casually down the central aisle. The saddle designs had not been altered in his life­time. All were portable, each equipped with a tiny motor enabling it to be easily moved should an occupant require a shift to surgery or another department.

  He pretended to gaze admiringly at an infant near the end of the aisle. The emergency exit should be nearby. These were not simple holdovers from ancient times when every Thranx Nursery possessed them, but served as im­portant escape routes in case of fire.

  The exit should lead to a ramp at the outskirts of the hive. One who used such a passageway for nonemergency purpose was subject to substantial penalties, but then, so was a kidnaper. The confluence of crimes and antisocial behavior in general among human and Thranx is one of our less obvious similarities, he mused.

  The larvae he chose were neither newborns nor those on the verge of metamorphosis. All were approximately at midlarval stage.

  His patience was rewarded when not one but two of the Nurses working up the aisle made their way out of the Nursery. When they did not return he quietly started work. Two, three, five of the saddles were linked by couplers. All could now be steered by a single Nurse. or anyone else. A glance up the aisle showed that the last attendant had disappeared. The cubicle partitions concealed him rea­sonably well and. would do so until he had to move his little train out into the open for the short dash to the emergency exitway. He would be quite satisfied if he could slip them through without being noticed. He did not have time to worry about how long he would have until they were missed.

  He was linking the sixth and final saddle to the others when a shockingly familiar scent reached his antennae. They jerked backward in reaction. The scent was followed by a querulous and equally familiar voice.

  "Ryo?" He turned. It was Fal.

  She wore her uniform vest and neck pouch and was star­ing at him. How much she'd observed he didn't know, not that it mattered now. She raised all four hands and ges­tured at the little line of linked saddles. Their motors whis­pered, their occupants slept on, oblivious.

  "Where did you come from and what do you think you're doing?"

  Ryo discovered that he was breathing in quick, short gasps. His gaze went past her to the Nursery entrance. The other two Nurses still hadn't returned but he daren't count on their absence much longer.

  "I haven't time to explain," he told her. "You must help me get these children out of the Nursery and up to the surface. Everything depends on speed now."

  She took a step away from him. "I don't understand you. You told me you were involved in some kind of govern­ment project. Then that same agency told us you'd turned criminal." She made a gesture of considerable confusion and uncertainty. "I don't know who or what to believe any­more."

  "Everything you were told is true, in its fashion," he said, unfailingly honest. "To a point. I was working on a government project and I am now something of a law­breaker. Probably worse than that, according to some. In the opinion of others, I am doubtless regarded as a grand hero. Actually, I'm neither. I'm just me, doing what I think necessary. You can make your own decision, Fal. But I don't have time to explain things. Not now."

  He touched a control and the line of saddles moved to­ward the emergency corridor. She hurried around to block the lead saddle.

  "I don't know where you've been, Ryo, or why you haven't been in touch with me or what you've been doing. I don't much care. I do care to see you again. It's good, I think, in spite of what you did. We have many things to talk about. In the meantime and for whatever personal rea­sons of yours, these larvae are going nowhere. This is the Nursery. This is where they belong and this is where they remain. Unless you can explain what you're doing, which I sincerely doubt."

  "I doubt it myself," he told her, stepping close. "It's more complicated than you can imagine. I love you, Fal. You are a wonderful, intelligent, insightful, enjoyable fe­male and my opinion of you will never change regardless of what you come to think of me and I hope you will excuse this," and he brought clown two fists with what he fer­vently hoped was carefully gauged strength between her antennae.

  She did not even have time to gasp. Her arms went out in a gesture of shock and she collapsed to the floor. He bent quickly over her. A glance up the aisle showed a still empty Nursery. His luck continued.

  Her thorax pulsed slowly but steadily as he lifted her onto an empty saddle and linked it to the other six. She would be unconscious for a long time while her body healed the cerebral bruise.

  The kidnaping would confront the Hive Council with a great mystery. It would be natural for them to concentrate on Fal's background in the hunt for motives. With luck they might never make the connection between a cluster of missing larvae and a long absent mental defective named Ryozenzuzex. If the humans had done their part and thor­oughly camouflaged their shuttle and the new structures, they might have a great deal of time before the alarm was raised and anyone thought to do some studious deduction.

  With less luck and preparation he might be very dead in a day or two, along with the six innocent larvae, Fal, and all his human friends. He preferred not to think about that. In any case, now was not the time.

  He met no one in the emergency corridor. No one chal­lenged him when he emerged on the surface with his un­likely cargo. in tow.

  Getting the seven saddles and their occupants into the harvester was difficult work even with the aid of the ma­chine's autoloading apparatus. St
ill he was not interrupted. When the last saddle had been positioned and locked in place inside the climate controlled hold he mounted the cab and gunned the engine. The harvester rumbled off down the nearest access path.

  He was careful to stay on the designated roads, even though it cost him some time. The last thing he wanted was to leave a clear track behind him. Soon he was in among the jungle trees, however, and he had to program the har­vesting equipment to carefully replace the vegetation the machine bashed through. In a few hours the sun would be up and a preliminary search of Paszex and its immediate environs would be under way.

  Confusion would be his most effective shield. They would inspect the immediate belt of jungle surrounding the hive fields, but since there was no reason for the missing Nurse to take her charges farther afield he didn't think .a deep hunt would commence for several days. By that time he would be well beyond any sensible search pattern.

  He'd entered the missing harvester into the machine­shop program as off line, on its way to Zirenba for exten­sive overhaul. Months would pass before anyone thought to check on its status.

  Fal presented a more substantial problem. He did not think she would remain calm at the sight of his horrific human companions. If she awoke it might be best to keep her sedated. He would worry about that later. If the project failed her opinion of him would not matter. If by some chance it succeeded well, he would worry about their re­lationship at that time only.

  When the sun rose, so would his young charges. Ryo had spent time in the Nursery only as an occupant. Very shortly he would have to deal with six confused, unhappy, and hungry youngsters. He didn't know exactly how he was going to cope with that, although the past month had taught him something of handling youngsters and their needs. If he could manage infants of another species, surely he could deal with those of his own kind.

  He managed to do so. The presence of the "sleeping" Nurse, whom they all recognized, helped to calm them. When she didn't wake up there might be new problems, but Ryo was grateful for the respite.

  The harvester continued to perform admirably, sloshing its way through the rain forest while automatically covering its own tracks. To assist it he tried to choose paths that were particularly watery, but he was positive he must be leaving a trail behind him wide enough for a dozen Servi­tors to scan.

 

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