CROSSFIRE

by Nancy Kress

  "I know, Jake," Naomi said. "Dad, I'm sorry. This was my fault."

  For a moment he thought he hadn't heard her right. But her face, still defiant with its set lips and angry eyes, showed something else as well. Shame. She was sorry.

  "N-Naomi..."

  Jake said, "Don't try to talk. It can wait until later. Naomi, I think you'd better leave now. We'll sit with him. Go find Karim and Lucy and Franz."

  To apologize to them, Gail meant, for risking their lives as well. And, astonishingly, Naomi got up and went.

  Gail said, "I can't—Doctor? What is it?"

  A sudden spasm of pain shot up his injured arm. Toward the heart ... Shipley waited, but the spasm subsided and his heart didn't stop. He whispered, "Pathogens..."

  "I know," Gail said. "George says there's no way to know what you took on with that bite. But he also said that the same thing that protected us on Greentrees is probably operating here. Any microbes you took aboard simply can't proliferate using our DNA or nourish themselves with our cells. The genes are just too different, even if they are both DNA. He says all we can do is wait. You should sleep, if you can."

  He did, fitfully. Between brief bouts of painful sleep, he half woke, and each time Gail and Jake were still there, talking softly. Did just a few minutes pass, or hours? He had no way to tell. But he heard bits of their conversation, coming to him among tangled dreams of the beast crawling out of the river, coming toward him, closing its fangs on his arm. The same dream, again and again.

  Gail said, "—believe it. Will it last?"

  "I think so," Jake said.

  "But why now? She's hated him so steadily for—"

  "She didn't hate him. Not really. You must know that, you saw her momentary softening when Beta died and Shipley was so upset."

  "All right. She didn't hate him. But that 'softening' didn't last. Why do you think this will?"

  "She risked for him" Jake said. And then, "Basic negotiating technique, Gail. You get the other guy to do you a favor of some kind. That makes him feel well disposed toward you, and in a much better frame of mind to give you whatever else you want. We feel good toward people we help, provided the help isn't too disproportionate. Not toward the people who help us. We resent those because then we're obligated. Nan finally got to give, on a big scale, for her father."

  So that was it, Shipley thought, before he drifted off again. All these painful years, and he hadn't seen it, hadn't understood...

  "He's still asleep," Gail said. But he wasn't, because he clearly heard the footsteps run across the stone floor of the lodge, clearly heard the excited young voice of Karim Mahjoub.

  "Jake! You better come now! A shuttle is on its way down."

  25

  So it was time. Jake walked steadily out of the lodge behind Karim, who pointed to the mountain plateau—it looked too bleak to be called a "meadow"—beyond the lodge. "They'll probably set down there."

  "All right. Tell Gail to get everyone in the lodge. We don't want to overwhelm them with nine humans all at once. You and George stand with me." Physicist, biologist, and ... what was Jake himself? Leader? Negotiator? Would-be quisling?

  He couldn't afford to think like that.

  Karim said, "Not Franz? He'll want to be here."

  He'd probably earned the right, Jake thought, but he couldn't see what good a soldier would do, even a brave, quick-thinking soldier. If this shuttle held Furs, humans had already received a demonstration of how useless human aggression was against them. If the shuttle held Vines, no aggression was necessary.

  "No, not Franz. Tell him he's to stay with the rest on my explicit orders. As commander-in-chief," Jake added, and even Karim must have caught the bitterness in his tone because the young physicist glanced at him, startled, before running off.

  All right, Holman. Get a grip on your sarcasm. No more theatrics.

  He watched the shuttle come down, the now-familiar dull metal egg that didn't blacken during reentry nor scorch the ground where it landed. Fur technology. By the time the door slid open and the ramp descended, Karim and George stood beside him, both dressed in crude tunics cut from blankets, looking like unwashed primitives less able to care for themselves than the degraded aliens they'd dispossessed.

  Vines or more Furs?

  It was Vines, rolling down the too-steep ramp in domed carts, indistinguishable from the Vines that had died on Greentrees. Was there a translator in one of those carts? If so, it wasn't programmed yet for English. If not ... he'd consider "if not" when he had to. Jake stepped forward.

  "Hello. I am Jake Holman, a human. We are peaceful. Hello."

  The carts stopped, and then two of them fled back into the shuttle. The third stayed put.

  He approached very slowly, Karim and George matching his pace, and just as slowly sat on the rocky ground ten feet from the Vine. It was going to be Greentrees all over again. Sit with them in shared silence, as Shipley had taught him. Then, tomorrow or the next day, begin to talk, softly and persistently, until the translator had enough English vocabulary and grammar for the Vine to reply, and the Vine had enough trust in humans to open a dialogue. Continue that conversation as trust increased on both sides.

  Then tell them the lies that might lose them a planetful of their own people.

  It all went exactly like that.

  At dusk the Vine rolled back inside its shuttle and closed the door. Jake, chilled to the bone despite the extra blankets Gail had brought everyone and more worn-out by just sitting than he could have thought possible, stood up stiffly and went into the lodge. The fire was welcome. His hands and feet had lost all feeling.

  "How is Dr. Shipley?" he asked Gail.

  "I don't know. He sleeps a lot and he doesn't complain, but other than that I can't tell. I don't know what to look for. Eat, Jake. All we're risking is that chunky stuff, but it's a little tastier heated."

  A grill woven of green wood spanned the fire, covered with the greenish-gray food that Nan was turning with a pointed stick. Jake accepted one in a crude wooden bowl and ate it with his fingers. Nan wouldn't meet his eyes. She looked more chastened than he would ever have thought possible.

  Karim said, "Dusk lasts much longer than on Greentrees, which argues that we are not near this planet's equator. I wonder if this season now is winter or summer?"

  George said, "Summer, I'd say, judging from the number of plants in 'leaf' and even in flower."

  "Then it's a good thing we weren't dumped here in winter. I'm frozen through."

  Jake said, "From now on, everybody be careful what you say even if you're inside the lodge or far away from the shuttle. We don't know what they can or cannot hear. Everybody understand?"

  Nods, including a reluctant one with a touch of her usual sullenness from Nan.

  Franz said, "We need some schedule for the guard duty. Jake, maybe you and the other watchers sleep, not do the guard duty."

  Watchers. So that's what he was. Mueller's suggestion was a good one. He needed to stay as alert as possible.

  "All right, Franz. Good idea. You arrange the guard duty schedule." At least he could give him that. It felt good to transfer at least a small part of the responsibility to someone else. And Jake desperately wanted to sleep.

  It didn't happen. He slept a few hours, then woke and could not will himself to oblivion. When he heard Ingrid come in from guard shift and Lucy go out, he waited until Ingrid snored softly, and then he followed Lucy.

  The planet's one moon shone among unfamiliar stars. A slow cold wind blew. The sweet night odor of Greentrees had been replaced by a thick, fetid reek. Lucy stood against the sheltered side of the lodge, two blankets over her crude tunic, her feet wrapped in a third. Jake, barefoot, said, "Lucy," and she jumped.

  He moved into the welcome shelter of the lodge. The motionless Vine shuttle was clearly visible, but in the shadows her expression was not.

  "Lucy, since I told you about ... what I did, you've stayed completely away from me. Are you thinking about it
, or have you decided that you don't want to have anything to do with me?"

  She said nothing, which told him everything. He said quietly, "You're very hard."

  She cried, "I can't help it!"

  And maybe that was true. Maybe people could give only so far, support the weight of only so much. Add more, and they collapsed. People were what they were. Shipley was a pacifist not from belief but from temperament; the belief was unknowingly embraced to match the temperament. Nan was a rebel, Gail an organizer, Mueller a soldier in the same way: temperament first, belief afterward to justify inevitable actions. Maybe even the Vines and the Furs could not transcend their basic nature, just as lead could not become gold. Lucy was a woman with a passionate belief in doing what was ethical. She was righteous, or self-righteous if you wanted to look at it through that lens, but either way she could not accept what she considered unethical without violating something in herself so deep, so essential, that you might as well call it the "soul" and be done with it.

  And what was he, Jake?

  "I'm sorry," Lucy whispered.

  "I know you are," Jake said, and went back inside to try again to sleep.

  The next day passed as he had expected, with a rotating band of humans sitting on the ground and talking nonstop to the domed Vine, hoping like hell that it did indeed have a translator in that cart. George said yes, of course it did, it would have needed to talk to its experimental Furs. Jake doubted this. He kept the rotation moving, three humans outside at a time, watching that nobody got too cold. At least the reek of last night had vanished with a shift in the wind.

  By afternoon Shipley was definitely worse. He muttered in some kind of delirium, indistinguishable words. His big body felt clammy. Nan tended him silently, doing whatever Gail told her to, but there was little except keeping him warm and hydrated.

  Jake joined the group outside, gesturing for Ingrid to go back to the lodge. She left gratefully. Karim had been talking about stars and planets; Jake motioned him to silence.

  "Visitor, I want to tell you something important," he said, enunciating slowly and clearly, choosing the simple words they'd agreed to use for the benefit of the translator program, whatever it was. "One human of us is sick. His body does not work correctly. Something is wrong with his body. An animal of this planet attacked him. The animal bit his arm." Jake touched his own arm. "He is sick. We do not have our tools to fix his body."

  Jake stopped talking. After several minutes he thought he had failed to force the pace. But the delay was only the Vines' characteristic leisurely way. Eventually it spoke, the first words it had said. "Where are your tools to mend the sick human?"

  It had programmed the vocabulary. The voice was the same flat mechanical one of the Fur translator; this must also be captured and adapted technology. Jake said, "Our tools to mend the broken human are on another planet. Humans made a colony on the other planet. We lived there before we came here."

  "Why you come here with your tools on the other planet?"

  It didn't yet have the verb tenses. Then Jake realized what had just been asked, and he forgot about grammar. This was it. Time for the lie to begin. His chest, already heavy under the planet's gravity, felt like stone. He hoped that Karim could keep his face neutral. Although what did it matter—the Vines probably could not read human faces. All Karim had to do was not talk.

  Jake said to the Vine, "We humans came here without our tools to mend people because we came here without any of our tools. We were left here by the humans on our planet. They did not want us to be with them on that planet. We were left here to die."

  "Why?"

  "Because we want to build different things from the other humans. There was a war. We lost the war." If there was one thing the Vines should understand, it was war. They'd had thousands of years of it.

  The Vine remained silent a long time. Finally it said, "We are at war."

  "With whom?" His heart thudded in his leaden chest.

  "With people like the people that lived in this lodge. Where are the people that lived in this lodge? We made them. We do not see them."

  "They ran away when we came," Jake said truthfully. "They were afraid of us."

  "Yes. They are afraid of all things new. We made them afraid of all things new."

  These Vines were going to be just as honest and open about everything as Beta had been. You might as well call it the "soul" and be done with it.

  The Vine added after one of its long pauses, "Bring the sick human to here. We look at the sick human."

  "Yes," Jake said. "Karim, stay here."

  Slowly Jake walked back to the lodge. The others were clustered around the fire, braiding some foliage into rope. Gail hurried to meet him.

  "Gail, the Vine wants to see Shipley. It's possible it can do something to help him. George says they're biochemists, after all."

  "It spoke to you?" George, his face eager.

  "Yes. Nan, we need to bring your father outside to the Vine."

  She glared up at him. "To experiment on? The way they did with the Furs?"

  "To maybe save his life. I don't have time for any dramatics from you. If it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't be in this state in the first place."

  Nan flushed. Gail said, "Ingrid, get Karim in here. Franz, can you and George and Karim together—"

  "Not necessary," Mueller said. He bent over Shipley and lifted him. He then carried him—not even slung over his shoulder, in his arms—outside.

  Gail said to Jake, "Did you know he could do that?"

  George said, "Short-term muscle augments. It gives a burst of strength. My God, what else can he do?"

  Jake didn't know. But this wasn't the time to ask. "George, you and Nan come outside. The rest stay in here, and I'm going to send in Karim. We're still trying not to confuse or frighten the Vine with too many humans." He'd rather have Karim than Nan, but he knew it was pointless to forbid her. Her devotion to Shipley was now as exaggerated as her neglect of him had been before. The girl had no moderation.

  Mueller had laid Shipley on the ground directly beside the Vine. Jake was irrationally glad to see that Mueller was at least puffing. Shipley had to weigh at least 225 pounds, and the gravity here was maybe a third more than Terra.

  The Vine said nothing, but the slot in its cart opened and the bioarm snaked out and toward Shipley. Nan took a step forward. Jake put a warning hand on her arm, and she halted, scowling.

  Slowly the bioarm reached Shipley. It engulfed his hand. Jake watched, repelled and fascinated. What could the thing tell from just the hand? Was it taking skin samples? Going underneath the skin, through pores or something? Inserting some sort of microscopic needle? George was practically salivating in his hunger to study this.

  As much as fifteen minutes passed. Jake was getting chilled. Nan said abruptly, "You're letting him get too cold!"

  "Yes," the Vine said in its toneless voice. "This human must become more warmer. This human must become fix. This human must go in our shuttle to our ship."

  Jake said quickly, "I must go, too. I am the leader." Surely they would have that word from Furs.

  "Yes," the Vine said. And then, "All humans must go. All humans cannot stay on this planet. You are not made to stay on this planet. You will die. All humans must go with us."

  That easy. Candy from a baby. Jake said, "Go where?"

  "We can bring you to your other planet. We can bring you to different place on your other planet. Where other humans will not kill you."

  "They'd find us," Jake said. "They have very strong tools. Technology. We will die there. We will die here. We want to live. Can we go to your planet?"

  Long silence. The bioarm continued to engulf Shipley's hand. Finally the Vine said, "You will need different air. You will need different food. We can make for you different air. We can make for you different food. It will become very strange for you."

  "I know," Jake said. "But we'll go anyway. Thank you. At least we'll be alive."

  Until, and
if, they could destroy the Vine shield.

  They took Shipley up first, along with Nan, who would not leave him. Loading the physician into the shuttle, Jake thought that Nan was the only one of them who could enter it without gagging. The entire inside was coated with slime similar to the bioarm. In the enclosed space, the smell was fetid. If this stuff manufactured Vine atmosphere, how would humans breathe it? Presumably the Vines had that covered. More immediately, how would the rest of them force themselves into what seemed like the inside of someone's gut?

  "We have a problem," Gail said to Jake. "If we were just dumped here by our own species and we're innocent of Furs, Vines, and space wars, how are we supposed to explain that we have a quee?"

  The quee. Jake had forgotten about it. They were supposed to use it to keep in touch with their Fur masters ... his mind recoiled from the word, but it was true. They were puppets of the Fur masters.

  Jake took the quee from her hand and examined it. It seemed to consist of only the screen from all the ponderous equipment that had existed originally on the Ariel, later loaded onto the skimmer. The screen was surprisingly light, no more than three or four pounds. Could the Furs really have put sufficient power in it to contact them several times from light-years away?

  He dropped his voice to a whisper. "It's not Fur design, whatever that might look like. It's a human artifact. If the Vines ask about it, I'll tell them that the humans who marooned us here left us this one contact with them so we wouldn't be cut off entirely."

  "Do you think they'll believe that?" Gail said skeptically.

  "How the hell should I know? But if they really are as interconnected as George says, then maybe the idea of total isolation is so horrific to them that they'll accept that we were given a lifeline." He handed the quee back to Gail, who knew better than to say any more.

  When the shuttle returned, after a few hours, the inside had been cleaned out. Only one Vine rode back downstairs. It may or may not have been the one Jake had already talked to; they all looked alike. This alien sat under a dome, although not in a cart. There was no translator visible, and the Vine said absolutely nothing on the ride upstairs. Nor did it appear to pilot in any way. Karim looked hard at the unused controls, studying.