"Which is?"
"A new audience!" and Wuu returned to the display chamber to acknowledge the humans' peculiar form of applause.
Ten years passed. A day arrived when several of the original Project members had to return to their homes. Two would travel to Centaurus, one to New Riviera, and several to Earth.
Jahan Bhadravati was one of them. Bonnie was another. They stood next to the Paszex shuttleport's human service area, still clad in Willow wane duty uniform, which was to say practically nothing, and waited for departure call. It was a lovely rnidseason day. The temperature was 35° C and the humidity hovered near 92 percent.
No officials saw them off with speeches. In the intervening decade the coming and going of humans at Paszex had ceased to be worthy of special notice. There was a farewell party, however. Ryozenzuzex was there, accompanied by a young Thranx adult named Qul and a tall, skinny human named Wilson Asambi. They were working together to help develop gentler strains of a hybrid fruit.
Bonnie took a last look around the surface of Willow-wane. The distant lines of orchard and jungle, the little thickets of air intake stacks, the shuttleway, all were old friends to be left behind but retained in memory. She looked much the same as she had when she'd first set foot on Willow wane ten years before. The world was a fine place for keeping fit. There was gray in her hair now, and contentment in her expression.
"I suppose you'll continue at your post," she said to Ryo.
He shrugged, a human gesture that was becoming quite popular among Thranx, and uttered a confirmatory whistle of agreement. He reflected on the gesture and its meaning. We give so much to each other, he thought. Gesture as well as science, habit as well as art. Especially poetry. He smiled inwardly. Two years ago, old Wuuzelansem had fled to wherever it was old poets retreated to, fighting and kicking and disparaging the state of the universe all the way, but not before he'd seen his poetry wildly praised by the very monsters he'd once sought to avoid contact with.
Ryo missed Wuu. Even if they hadn't seen ommatidia to ommatidia all the time.
A high pitched whistle sounded from behind. Fal was waiting near the entryway to Paszex: She still would not have close contact with humans. Her trauma was understandable, since they'd been responsible for luring her premate away and forcing him to strike her. She would barely tolerate them.
Toleration first, he told himself. Friendship later. If anything, progress on the latter was ahead of schedule.
To his surprise, he noticed that Bonnie was making eye moisture. Ryo waited to find out whether it was significant of happiness or distress. Water of delight, water of depression, Wuu had called it in one of his poems.
"I'm crying out of both," she told him. "I'm glad that things have turned out so well and I'm sad that after all these years it's finally time to leave. I just can't turn down a university position on Earth. Loo Loo would have liked the way things have turned out."
"There's still a lot of work to be done," Ryo said. "I'll retain my position as long as I'm able to help."
Bhadravati shuffled his feet and said nothing. Conversation had never been the scientist's strong point, Ryo knew. He felt a great sadness within himself at the coming departure of two of his oldest human friends.
"There is no reason to cry, my friend," Ryo told Bonnie. "We have nothing but reason for happiness. We shall meet again someday."
Bonnie was too much of a realist to believe that. Circumstance and distance, the ancient enemies of acquaintance, would conspire to prevent it.
Nevertheless she replied with a smiling, "I hope so, Ryo," as she reached out both hands to touch the tips of his proffered antennae. The interspecies gesture was now as automatic as a handshake. Ryo repeated the gesture with Bhadravati.
"These youngsters here," he said, indicating Asambi and Qul, "will be taking on the truly important work now. Nothing can prevent the deepening of our friendship." She was still crying and he made a gesture of gentle thirddegree admonishment.
"Please, friend, let there be no more tears at this parting. Not water tears from you nor crystal tears from me, would that I were able to manufacture them. It's a gesture I envy you. A small but intriguing physical difference."
"The only significant differences between us anymore are physical," said Bhadravati.
"Only physical," Ryo agreed, "and that means less each day. Shape and composition mean nothing when understanding is present."
"I thought old Wuu was the poet and not you," Bonnie said.
"A little of everything you admire eventually rubs off on you. I'm sure you'll be happy to live for a while now with less weighty matters on your mind."
"Well, I will have my classes," she admitted, "and Jahan his research and his books to compose." From the way they gazed at one another Ryo thought Bonnie might mate after all. The soft beeping sounded from around them. Other passengers began to move toward the waiting shuttle. Not all of them were human.
"We should board." Bhadravati put a hand on her shoulder. She nodded, didn't speak, looked back down at Ryo. Then she reached out and hugged him. Blue green chiton slid against soft flesh. It was another gesture Ryo had learned but which he'd always observed performed by two humans. It was much too rough to be civilized, but he politely said nothing.
As they moved toward the shuttle he made the human gesture of farewell, waving two hands at them. He followed with the far more complex and subtle four handed gesture of Thranx good bye. At the base of the ramp Bonnie imitated it as best she could with only two hands. Then they disappeared into the ship.
He started toward the burrow entryway that led down into the busy terminal. The impatient Fal had withdrawn into the comforting confines below.
Bonnie and Dr. Bhadravati appeared content, and that thought made him happy. Everyone deserved contentment. They'd worked hard and long and deserved their share of mental peace.
The fruit he'd struggled so hard to plant had taken root. It had done more than survive. In ten years it prospered enormously and now showed signs of flowering into something far more than he'd ever dreamed of, more than mere friendship. The relationship between human and thranx was becoming more than deep. There were signs, signs and portents, that someday in the far future it could become truly symbiotic.
And there was another benefit, one Ryo had not considered. One he hadn't thought much about during the last busy, exciting ten years. The realization came as a shock.
He found something useful to do with his life after all.
***
Note: Map of the Commonwealth and its Chronology Published in 05: Flinx in Flux
****
ALAN DEAN FOSTER was born in New York City in 1946 and raised in Los Angeles, California. After receiving a bachelor's degree in political science and a master of fine arts degree in motion pictures from UCLA in 1968 69, he worked for two years as a public relations copywriter in Studio City, California.
He sold his first short story to August Derleth at Arkham Collector Magazine in 1968, and other sales of short fiction to other magazines followed. His first try at a novel, The Tar Aiym Krang, was published by Ballantine Books in 1972. Since then, Foster has published many short stories, novels, and film novelizations.
Foster has toured extensively around the world. Besides traveling, he enjoys classical and rock music, old films, basketball, body surfing, and weightlifting. He has taught screenwriting, literature, and film history at UCLA and Los Angeles City College.
Currently he resides in Arizona.
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Author: Alan Dean Foster
Title: Nor Crystal Tears
Series: A Novel of the Humanx Commonwealth Series No:
Original copyright year: 1982
Genre: Science Fiction
Date of e-text: 12/29/2000
Prepared by:
Last Revised: 07 /09/2005
Revised by: Jack
Version: 1.6 (html is original version)
Comments:
Download both lit and txt version. Please correct any errors you find in this e-text, update the txt file’s version number and redistribute.
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