by David Brin
Athaclena sat still while rippling motions under her skin settled down—the unasked-for gheer activity dissipating gradually. You are not needed, she told the enzymes. There is no emergency. Go and leave me alone.
Ever since she had been little, the tiny change-nodes had been a part of her life—occasionally inconveniences, often indispensable. Only since coming to Garth had she begun to picture the little fluid organs as tiny, mouselike creatures, or busy little gnomes, which hurried about making sudden alterations within her body whenever the need arose.
What a bizarre way of looking at a natural, organic function! Many of the animals of Tymbrim shared the ability. It had evolved in the forests of homeworld long before the starfaring Caltmour had arrived to give her ancestors speech and law.
That was it, of course … the reason why she had never likened the nodes to busy little creatures before coming to Garth. Prior to Uplift, her pre-sentient ancestors would have been incapable of making baroque comparisons. And after Uplift, they knew the scientific truth.
Ah, but humans … the Terran wolflings … had come into intelligence without guidance. They were not handed answers, as a child is given knowledge by its parents and teachers. They had emerged ignorant into awareness and spent long millennia groping in darkness.
Needing explanations and having none available, they got into the habit of inventing their own! Athaclena remembered when she had been amused … amused reading about some of them.
Disease was caused by “vapors,” or excess bile, or an enemy’s curse.… The Sun rode across the sky in a great chariot.… The course of history was determined by economics.…
And inside the body, there resided animus.…
Athaclena touched a throbbing knot behind her jaw and started as the small bulge seemed to skitter away, like some small, shy creature. It was a terrifying image, that metaphor, more frightening than tutsunacann, for it invaded her body—her very sense of self!
Athaclena moaned and buried her face in her hands. Crazy Earthlings! What have they done to me?
She recalled how her father had bid her to learn more about human ways, to overcome her odd misgivings about the denizens of Sol III. But what had happened? She had found her destiny entwined with theirs, and it was no longer within her power to control it.
“Father,” she spoke aloud in Galactic Seven. “I fear.”
All she had of him was memory. Even the nahakieri glimmer she had felt back at the burning Howletts Center was unavailable, perhaps gone. She could not go down to seek his roots with hers, for tutsunacann lurked there, like some subterranean beast, waiting to get her.
More metaphors, she realized. My thoughts are filling with them, while my own glyphs terrify me!
Movement in the hall outside made her look up. A narrow trapezoid of light spilled into the room as the curtain was drawn aside. The slightly bowlegged outline of a chim stood silhouetted against the dim glow.
“Excuse me, Mizz Athaclena, ser. I’m sorry to bother you during your rest period, but we thought you’d want to know.”
“Ye …” Athaclena swallowed, chasing more mice from her throat. She shivered and concentrated on Anglic. “Yes? What is it?”
The chim stepped forward, partly cutting off the light. “It’s Captain Oneagle, ser. I’m … I’m afraid we can’t locate him anywhere.”
Athaclena blinked. “Robert?”
The chim nodded. “He’s gone, ser. He’s just plain disappeared!”
35
Robert
The forest animals stopped and listened, all senses aquiver. A growing rustle and rumble of footfalls made them nervous. Without exception they scuttled for cover and watched from hiding as a tall beast ran past them, leaping from boulder to log to soft forest loam.
They had begun to get used to the smaller two-legged variety, and to the much larger kind that chuffed and shambled along on three limbs as often as two. Those, at least, were hairy and smelled like animals. This one, though, was different. It ran but did not hunt. It was chased, yet it did not try to lose its pursuers. It was warm-blooded, yet when it rested it lay in the open noon sunshine, where only animals stricken with madness normally ventured.
The little native creatures did not connect the running thing with the kind that flew about in tangy-smelling metal and plastic, for that type had always made such noise, and reeked of those things.
This one, though … this one ran unclothed.
“Captain, stop!”
Robert hopped one rock farther up the tumbled boulder scree. He leaned against another to catch his breath and looked back down at his pursuer.
“Getting tired, Benjamin?”
The chim officer panted, stooping over with both hands on his knees. Farther downslope the rest of the search party lay strung out, some flat on their backs, barely able to move.
Robert smiled. They must have thought it would be easy to catch him. After all, chims were at home in a forest. And just one of them, even a female, would be strong enough to grab him and keep him immobile for the rest to bundle home.
But Robert had planned this. He had kept to open ground and played the chase to take advantage of his long stride.
“Captain Oneagle …” Benjamin tried again, catching his breath. He looked up and took a step forward. “Captain, please, you’re not well.”
“I feel fine,” Robert announced, lying just a little. Actually, his legs shivered with the beginnings of a cramp, his lungs burned, and his right arm itched all over from where he had chipped and peeled his cast away.
And then there were his bare feet.…
“Parse it logically, Benjamin,” he said. “Demonstrate to me that I am ill, and just maybe I’ll accompany you back to those smelly caves.”
Benjamin blinked up at him. Then he shrugged, obviously willing to clutch at any straw. Robert had proven they could not run him down. Perhaps logic might work.
“Well, ser.” Benjamin licked his lips. “First off, there’s the fact that you aren’t wearing any clothes.”
Robert nodded. “Good, go for the direct. I’ll even posit, for now, that the simplest, most parsimonious explanation for my nudity is that I’ve gone bonkers. I reserve the right to offer an alternative theory, though.”
The chim shivered as he saw Robert’s smile. Robert could not help sympathizing with Benjamin. From the chim’s point of view this was a tragedy in progress, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
“Continue, please,” Robert urged.
“Very well.” Benjamin sighed. “Second, you are running away from chims under your own command. A patron afraid of his own loyal clients cannot be in complete control of himself.”
Robert nodded. “Clients who would throw this patron into a straitjacket and dope him full of happy juice first chance they got? No good, Ben. If you accept my premise, that I have reasons for what I’m doing, then it only follows that I’d try to keep you guys from dragging me back.”
“Um …” Benjamin took a step closer. Robert casually retreated one boulder higher. “Your reason could be a false one,” Benjamin ventured. “A neurosis defends itself by coming up with rationalizations to explain away bizarre behavior. The sick person actually believes—”
“Good point,” Robert agreed, cheerfully. “I’ll accept, for later discussion, the possibility that my ‘reasons’ are actually rationalizations by an unbalanced mind. Will you, in exchange, entertain the possibility that they might be valid?”
Benjamin’s lip curled back. “You’re violating orders being out here!”
Robert sighed. “Orders from an E.T. civilian to a Terragens officer? Chim Benjamin, you surprise me. I agree that Athaclena should organize the ad hoc resistance. She seems to have a flair for it, and most of the chims idolize her. But I choose to operate independently. You know I have the right.”
Benjamin’s frustration was evident. The chim seemed on the verge of tears. “But you’re in danger out here!”
At last. Robert had w
ondered how long Ben could maintain this game of logic while every fiber must be quivering over the safety of the last free human. Under similar circumstances, Robert doubted many men would have done better.
He was about to say something to that effect when Benjamin’s head jerked up suddenly. The chim put a hand to his ear, listening to a small receiver. A look of alarm spread across his face.
The other chims must have heard the same report, for they stumbled to their feet, staring up at Robert in growing panic.
“Captain Oneagle, Central reports acoustic signatures to the northeast. Gasbots!”
“Estimated time of arrival?”
“Four minutes! Please, captain, will you come now?”
“Come where?” Robert shrugged. “We can’t possibly make the caves in time.”
“We can hide you.” But from the tone of dread in his voice, Benjamin clearly knew it was useless.
Robert shook his head. “I’ve got a better idea. But it means we have to cut our little debate short. You must accept that I’m out here for a valid reason, Chim Benjamin. At once!”
The chim stared at him, then nodded tentatively. “I—I don’t have any choice.”
“Good,” Robert said. “Now take off your clothes.”
“S-ser?”
“Your clothes! And that sonic receiver of yours! Have everybody in your party strip. Remove everything! As you love your patrons, leave on nothing but skin and hair, then come join me up in those trees at the top of the scree!”
Robert did not wait for the blinking chim to acknowledge the strange command. He turned and took off upslope, favoring the foot most cut up by pebbles and twigs since his early morning foray had begun.
How much time remained? he wondered. Even if he was correct—and Robert knew he was taking a terrible gamble—he would still need to get as much altitude as possible.
He could not help scanning the sky for the expected robot bombers. The preoccupation caused him to stumble and fall to his knees as he reached the crest. He skinned them further crawling the last two meters to the shade under the nearest of the dwarf trees. According to his theory it wouldn’t matter much whether or not he concealed himself. Still, Robert sought heavy cover. The Gubru machines might have simple optical scanners to supplement their primary homing mechanism.
He heard shouting below, sounds of chims in fierce argument. Then, from somewhere to the north, there came a faint, whining sound.
Robert backed further into the bushes, though sharp twigs scratched his tender skin. His heart beat faster and his mouth was dry. If he was wrong, or if the chims decided to ignore his command …
If he had missed a single bet he would soon be on his way to internment at Port Helenia, or dead. In any event, he would have left Athaclena all alone, the sole patron remaining in the mountains, and spent the remaining minutes or years of his life cursing himself for a bloody fool.
Maybe Mother was right about me. Maybe I am nothing but a useless playboy. We’ll soon see.
There was a rattling sound—rocks sliding down the boulder scree. Five brown shapes tumbled into the foliage just as the approaching whine reached its crescendo. Dust rose from the dry soil as the chims turned quickly and stared, wide-eyed. An alien machine had come to the little valley.
From his hiding place Robert cleared his throat. The chims, obviously uncomfortable without their clothes, started in tense surprise. “You guys had better have thrown everything away, including your mikes, or I’m getting out of here now and leaving you behind.”
Benjamin snorted. “We’re stripped.” He nodded down into the valley. “Harry an’ Frank wouldn’t do it. I told ’em to climb the other slope and stay away from us.”
Robert nodded. With his companions he watched the gasbot begin its run. The others had witnessed this phenomenon, but he had not been in much shape to observe during the one opportunity he’d had before. Robert looked on with more than a passing interest.
It measured about fifty meters in length, teardrop-shaped, with scanners spinning slowly at the pointed, trailing end. The gasbot cruised the valley from their right to their left, disturbed foliage rustling beneath its throbbing gravitics.
It seemed to be sniffing as it zigzagged up the canyon—and vanished momentarily behind a curve in the bordering hills.
The whine faded, but not for long. Soon the sound returned, and the machine reappeared shortly after. This time a dark, noxious cloud trailed behind, turbulent in its wake. The gasbot passed back down the narrow vale and laid its thickest layer of oily vapor where the chims had left their clothes and equipment.
“Coulda sworn those mini-coms couldn’t have been detected,” one of the naked chims muttered.
“We’ll have to go completely without electronics on the outside,” another added unhappily, watching as the device passed out of sight again. The valley bottom was already obscured.
Benjamin looked at Robert. They both knew it wasn’t over yet.
The high-pitched moan returned as the Gubru mechanism cruised back their way, this time at a higher altitude. Its scanners worked the hills on both sides.
The machine stopped opposite them. The chims froze, as if staring into the eyes of a rather large tiger. The tableau held for a moment. Then the bomber began moving at right angles to its former path.
Away from them.
In moments the opposite hill was swathed in a cloud of black fog. From the other side they could hear coughing and loud imprecations as the chims who had climbed that way cursed this Gubru notion of better living through chemistry.
The robot began to spiral out and higher. Clearly the search pattern would soon bring it above the Earthlings on this side.
“Anybody got anything they didn’t declare at customs?” Robert asked, dryly.
Benjamin turned to one of the other neo-chimps. Snapping his fingers, he held out his hand. The younger chim glowered and opened his hand. Metal glittered.
Benjamin seized the little chain and medallion and stood up briefly to throw it. The links sparkled for just a moment, then disappeared into the murky haze downslope.
“That may not have been necessary,” Robert said. “We’ll have to experiment, lay out different objects at various sites and see which get bombed.…”He was talking as much for morale as for content. As much for his morale as for theirs. “I suspect it’s something simple, quite common, but imported to Garth, so its resonance will be a sure sign of Earthly presence.”
Benjamin and Robert shared a long look. No words were needed. Reason or rationalization. The next ten seconds would tell whether Robert was right or disastrously wrong.
It might be us it detects, Robert knew. Ifni. What if they can tune in on human DNA?
The robot cruised overhead. They covered their ears and blinked as the repulsor fields tickled their nerve endings. Robert felt a wave of déjà vu, as if this were something he and the others had done many times, through countless prior lives. Three of the chims buried their heads in their arms and whimpered.
Did the machine pause? Robert felt suddenly that it had, that it was about to …
Then it was past them, shaking the tops of trees ten meters away … twenty … forty. The search spiral widened and the gasbot’s whining engine sounds faded slowly with distance. The machine moved on, seeking other targets.
Robert met Benjamin’s eyes again and winked.
The chim snorted. Obviously he felt that Robert should not be smug over being right. That was, after all, only a patron’s job.
Style counted, too. And Benjamin clearly thought Robert might have chosen a more dignified way to make his point.
* * *
Robert would go home by a different route, avoiding any contact with the still-fresh coercion chemicals. The chims tarried long enough to gather their things and shake out the sooty black powder. They bundled up their gear but did not put the clothes back on.
It wasn’t only dislike of the alien stink. For the first time the items themselves were su
spect. Tools and clothing, the very symbols of sentience, had become betrayers, things not to be trusted.
They walked home naked.
It took a while, afterward, for life to return to the little valley. The nervous creatures of Garth had never been harmed by the new, noxious fog that had lately come at intervals from a growling sky. But they did not like it any more than they liked the noisy two-legged beings.
Nervously, timorously, the native animals crept back to their feeding or hunting grounds.
Such caution was especially strong in the survivors of the Bururalli terror. Near the northern end of the valley the creatures stopped their return migration and listened, sniffing the air suspiciously.
Many backed out then. Something else had entered the area. Until it left, there would be no going home.
A dark form moved down the rocky slope, picking its way among the boulders where the sooty residue lay thickest. As twilight gathered it clambered boldly about the rocks, making no move to conceal itself, for nothing here could harm it. It paused briefly, casting about as if looking for something.
A small glint shone in the late afternoon sunshine. The creature shuffled over to the glittering thing, a small chain and pendant half hidden in the dusty rocks, and picked it up.
It sat looking at the lost keepsake for a time, sighing softly in contemplation. Then it dropped the shiny bauble where it had lain and moved on.
Only after it had shambled away at last did the creatures of the forest finish their homeward odyssey, scurrying for secret niches and hiding places. In minutes the disturbances were forgotten, dross from a used-up day.
Memory was a useless encumbrance, anyway. The animals had more important things to do than contemplate what had gone on an hour ago. Night was coming, and that was serious business. Hunting and being hunted, eating and being eaten, living and dying.
36
Fiben
“We’ve got to hurt them in ways that they can’t trace to us.”
Gailet Jones sat cross-legged on the carpet, her back to the embers in the fireplace. She faced the ad hoc resistance committee and held up a single finger.