Imago x-3

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Imago x-3 Page 22

by Butler, Octavia


  Around me, people slept with slow, even breathing. The angry male, still some distance from me, had stopped beating his mate. I did not stand away from the wall until the person from the doorway—a pregnant female—had crossed the path and taken the stairs down to a lower level.

  Farther along the pathway I was confined to, I recognized the round building—a half-cylinder of smooth gray rock. Both Jesusa and TomÁs were inside, though I did not think they were together. I walked toward it, all my sensory tentacles in prestrike knots and my sensory arms coiled against me. If I could do this without noise, we could get away, and it might be morning before anyone knew we were gone.

  The building had heavy wooden doors.

  In time, I could smash them, but only with a great deal of noise. Someone would shoot me long before I’d finished.

  I uncoiled one sensory arm and probed the door. Filaments of my sensory hand could penetrate it as easily as they could penetrate flesh. A wooden door set in a wooden frame, held shut by a massive wooden crossbar that rested in a cradle of iron. Very simple. The iron cradle consisted of four flattened, upturned prongs, two fastened to the door with several metal screws and two fastened to the doorframe.

  Quickly, carefully, I rotted the wood that held the prong screws on the door. Through my sensory hand, I injected a corrosive, and the wood began at once to disintegrate. I could not have destroyed the door this way, but getting rid of the small sections of wood that held the screws was no trouble. In effect, I digested them.

  After a time, the heavy crossbar slid to the floor.

  The two men just inside shouted in surprise, then cursed and made several quick, noisy movements. They came together to examine the door and ask each other what could have caused it to fall apart that way.

  When I hit the door, they were exactly where I wanted them to be. The door knocked them down before they could raise their rifles. I stung first one, then the other, with a lashing motion of sensory arms. Both collapsed unconscious. It could only have been reflex that caused one of them to fire his gun.

  The bullet glanced off one rock wall and spent itself against another.

  And suddenly, everywhere, there were voices.

  Jesusa was so close

  . But there was no time.

  I stepped out through the doorway, meaning to disappear for a while, try again later.

  Outside, there was a forest of long wood-and-metal rifles. People had leaped from sleep onto their pathway, some of them naked, but all of them armed.

  I jumped back behind the heavy door and slammed it as people fired into it. I grabbed the crossbar and kicked and jammed it into a prop. It wouldn’t hold long against their guns and their bodies, but it would give me a moment.

  What to do? They would kill me before I could speak. They would kill me as soon as they reached me. If I went into the area where Jesusa was confined, they might kill her, too.

  I reached for the two guards and forced them conscious. I dragged them to their feet, made them stand on either side of me, made them breathe in as much as they could of me.

  They struggled a little at first. Then I looped my sensory arms around them and injected my ooloi substance into them. I had to quiet them before the door gave way.

  “Save your lives,” I said softly. “Don’t let your people shoot you. Make them listen!”

  At that moment the door gave way.

  People poured into the room, ready to shoot. I held the two guards in front of me, held them with only my strength hands visible. The less alien I seemed now, the more likely I was to live for a few more moments.

  “Don’t shoot us!” the guard under my right hand shouted.

  “Don’t shoot!” the other echoed. “It isn’t hurting us.”

  “It’s an alien,” someone shouted.

  “Oankali!”

  “Four-arms!”

  “Kill it!”

  “No!” my prisoners screamed together.

  “It can sting people to death! Kill it!”

  “There’s no need to kill me!” I said. I tried consciously to sound the way Nikanj did when it both frightened Humans and got them to cooperate. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you shoot me, I may lose control and kill several of you before I die.”

  Silence.

  “I mean you no harm.”

  Again the curse, and it was, unmistakably, a curse. “Four-arms!”

  And from someone else. “They strike like snakes!”

  “I didn’t come to strike anyone,” I said. “I mean you no harm.”

  “What do you want here!” one of them demanded.

  I hesitated and someone else answered for me.

  “Isn’t it obvious what the thing wants? The prisoners, that’s what! It’s come for them!”

  “I’ve come for them,” I agreed softly.

  People began to look uncertain. I was reaching them—probably more with my scent than with anything I was saying. All I had to do was keep them here a little longer. They might go in and get Jesusa and TomÁs for me. The two in my hands would probably do that now if I asked it of them. But I still needed them—for just a while longer.

  “If you kill me,” I said, “my people will find out about it. And those who shoot me will never live on a planet or know freedom again. Ask your elders. They remember.”

  People began to look at one another doubtfully. Some of them lowered their guns and stood not knowing what to do. There had always been a fear among Humans that we could read their thoughts. No doubt that was why they had feared letting even one of their people go down into the lowland forest. Most had never understood that it was their bodies we read—inside and out. And if we were alert and competent—more so than I had been with Santos—their bodies kept few secrets.

  “Who will speak for you?” I asked the crowd. If they had been Oankali or construct, I would never have asked such a question. I could have made my case to anyone, and the people would have joined person-to-person or through their town organisms, and there would have been a consensus.

  But these people were Human. I had to find their leaders.

  Two males stepped forward out of the crowd.

  “Elders?” I asked.

  One of them nodded. The other only stared at me in obvious disgust.

  “I mean no harm,” I said. “Harm will only be done if you shoot me. Do you accept that?”

  “Perhaps,” the one who had nodded said.

  I shrugged. “Examine your own memories.” And I kept quiet and left them to their memories. Meanwhile, without drawing attention to the gesture, I took my hands from the two men in front of me. They didn’t move.

  “Why do you want Jesusa and TomÁs?” demanded the disgusted elder.

  “They are my mates.”

  There was a sudden rush of surprised muttering from the people. I heard disbelief and questioning, threats and cursing, honor and disgust.

  “Why should you be surprised?” I asked. “Why did you think I wanted them? Why else would I be willing to risk your killing me?” I paused, but no one spoke. “We care for our mates as deeply as you do for yours,” I said.

  “It would be better for them to be killed than to be given to you,” the disgusted elder said.

  “Your people almost destroyed themselves,” I said, “and you still haven’t had enough killing?”

  “Your people want to kill us!” someone said from the crowd.

  I spoke into renewed muttering. “My people are coming here, but they won’t kill. They didn’t kill your elders. They plucked them out of the ashes of their war, healed them, mated with those who were willing, and let the others go. If my people were killers, you wouldn’t be here.” I paused to let them think, then I continued. “And there wouldn’t be a Human colony on the planet Mars where Humans live and breed totally free of us. The Humans there are healthy and thriving. Any Human who wants to join them will be given healing, restored fertility if necessary, and transported.”

  What happened next was totally irrational, yet somehow, later, I felt that I should have anticipated it.

  The disgust
ed elder’s face twisted with anger and revulsion. He cursed me, called on his god to damn me. Then he fired his gun.

  One of the two Human guards whom I had held, and then released, jumped between the elder’s gun and me.

  An instant later, the guard lay dying and the two elders struggled for possession of the disgusted one’s rifle.

  I saw the murderous elder subdued by his companion and two deformed young people. Then I was on the floor beside the injured man. “Keep them off me,” I told the remaining guard. “His heart is damaged. I can save him, but only if they let me alone.”

  I paid no more attention to what they did. The injured guard needed all my attention. By the definition of most Humans, he was already dead. The large-caliber bullet fired at close range had gone through his heart and come out of his back just missing his spine. I had all I could do to keep him alive while I repaired the heart. The Humans would not murder me. The moment for that had passed.

  12

  I was hungry when I finished the healing. I was almost weak with hunger. And the scent of Jesusa and TomÁs so nearby was tormenting. I could not let the Humans keep them from me much longer.

  I began to pay attention to my immediate surroundings again and found myself looking into the eyes of the man I had just healed.

  “I was shot,” he said. “I remember

  but it doesn’t hurt.”

  “You’re healed,” I said. I hugged him. “Thank you for shielding me.”

  He said nothing. He sat up when I did and looked around at the people who had gathered around us and sat down. We were the center of a ring of elders and aged fertiles—people who looked ancient, but were not nearly as old as the youthful-looking elders. There were no females present.

  “Give me something to eat,” I told them. “Plant material. No meat.”

  No one moved or spoke.

  I looked at the guard I had just healed. “Get me something, please.”

  He nodded. No one stopped him from going out, though everyone was armed.

  I sat still and waited. Eventually the Humans would begin to talk to me. They were playing a game now, trying to make me uneasy, trying to put me at more of a disadvantage than I was. A small, Human, hierarchical game. They might not let my guard back in. Well, I was uncomfortably hungry, not desperately hungry. And I didn’t know their game well enough to play it. At some time they would probably take pleasure in telling me what they intended to do to me. I was in no hurry to hear that. I didn’t expect to like it.

  I almost slept. My guard came back with a dish of cooked beans and some grain and fruit that I did not recognize. A good meal. I thanked him and sent him away because I was afraid he would speak for me and get into trouble.

  Sometime later, Francisco came in. There were three more elders with him. From their looks, they were probably the oldest males in the village. They were gray-haired, and their faces were deeply lined. One of them walked with a severe limp. The other two were gaunt and bent. They had probably been old before the war.

  These four sat down facing me, and Francisco spoke quietly. “Are you all right?”

  I looked at him, trying to guess what his situation was. Why had he come? It was too late for him to play the part he had promised to play. He was holding himself very tightly, yet trying hard to seem relaxed. I decided not to recognize him—for now.

  “My mates are still imprisoned,” I said.

  “We’ll let you see them soon. We want you to know first what we’ve decided.”

  I waited.

  “You’ve said your people will be coming here.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll wait here for them.” His body inclined toward me, full of repressed tension. It was important to him that I accept what he was saying.

  I kept quiet, turned my face away from him so that I could watch him without making him feel watched. There was no triumph in him, no slyness, no sign that he was doing anything more than telling me what his people had decided—and perhaps hoping that I didn’t give him away.

  “The guards have captured your companion,” Francisco said in the same quiet way. “It will be brought here soon.”

  “Aaor?” I asked. “Is it injured? Is anyone injured?”

  “Nothing serious. Your companion was shot in the leg, but it seems to have healed itself. One of our people whom you’ve tampered with was injured slightly.”

  “Who? Which one?”

  “Santos Ibarra Ruiz.”

  Of course. I shook my head. Someone in the group of elders groaned. “Is he all right?” I asked.

  “Our guards heard him arguing with someone in your companion’s party,” Francisco said. “When they investigated and took prisoners, Santos bit one of them. He was clubbed. He’s all right except for a few bruises and a headache.”

  Santos had given Aaor away. Who but Santos would? How many lives had he endangered or destroyed?

  “What will happen to the Humans we’ve

  tampered with?” I asked.

  “We haven’t decided yet,” Francisco said. “Nothing probably.”

  “They should be hanged,” someone muttered. “Supposed to be on watch

  .”

  “They were taken by surprise,” Francisco said. “If I hadn’t decided to come down and sleep in my own bed, I could have been taken myself.”

  So that was why he was still free. He had convinced his people that we had arrived after he left. That story might protect him and enable him to help the others. His body expressed his discomfort with the lie, but he told it well.

  “Will you keep Aaor here, too?” I asked.

  “Yes. It won’t be hurt unless it tries to escape. Neither will you. Our people feel that having you here will assure their safety when your people arrive.”

  I nodded. “Was this your idea?”

  The elder with the limp spoke up. “It doesn’t matter to you whose idea it was! You’ll stay here. And if your people don’t come

  perhaps we’ll be able to think of something to do with you.”

  I turned to face him. “Use me to heal your leg,” I said softly. “It must pain you.”

  “You’ll never get your poisonous hands on me.”

  I would. Of course I would. If they kept Aaor and me here, nothing would stop them for using us to rid them of their many physical problems.

  “This wasn’t my idea,” Francisco said. “My only idea was that you shouldn’t be shot. A great many people here would like to shoot you, you know.”

  “That would be a serious mistake.”

  “I know.” He paused. “Santos was the one who suggested keeping you here.”

  I did not shout with laughter. Laughter would have made the elders even more intensely suspicious than they were. But within myself, I howled. Santos was making up for his error. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew his people would use Aaor’s and my healing ability and breathe our scents, and finally, when our people arrived, his would meet them without hostility. In that way, I would, as Francisco had said, assure the mountain people’s safety. People who did not fight would be in no danger at all, would not even be gassed once the shuttle caught Aaor’s and my scents.

  “Bring Aaor,” I said.

  “Aaor is coming.” Francisco paused. “If you try anything, if you frighten these people in any way at all, they will shoot you. And they won’t stop shooting until there’s nothing living left of you.”

  I nodded. There would be a great deal that was living left of me, but it would certainly not survive as me. And it might do harm here—as a disease. It was best for us to die on a ship or in one of our towns. Our substance would be safely absorbed into the larger organism. If it were not absorbed, the Oankali organelles in it would find things to do on their own.

  Aaor was brought in by young guards. I looked at its legs for traces of a bullet wound, but could see none. The Humans had let it heal itself completely before they brought it in.

  It walked over and sat down beside me on the stone floor. It did not touch me.

  “They want us to stay here,” it said in Spanish.

  “I
know.”

  “Shall we?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  It nodded. “I thought so, too.” It pulled its mouth into something less than a smile. “You were right about being shot. I don’t want to go through it again.”

  “Where are your mates?”

  “At their home not far from here—under guard.”

  I faced Francisco again. “We agree to stay here until our people come, but Aaor should live with its mates. And I should live with mine.”

  “You’ll be imprisoned here in this tower!” one of the gaunt old elders said. “Both of you! You’ll stay here under guard. And you’ll have no mates!”

  “We’ll live in houses as people should,” I said softly.

  Someone spat the words “Four-arms!” and someone else muttered, “Animals!”

  “We’ll live with the people you know to be our mates,” I continued. “If we don’t, we’ll become

  very dangerous to ourselves and to you.”

  Silence.

  My scent and Aaor’s probably could not convert these people quickly without direct contact, but our scents could make everyone more likely to believe what we said. We could persuade them to do what they knew they really should do.

  “You’ll live with your mates,” Francisco said above much muttering. “Most of us accept that. But wherever you live, you will be guarded. You must be.”

  I glanced at Aaor. “All right,” I said. “Guard us. There’s no need for it, but if it comforts you, we’ll put up with it.”

  “Guards to keep people from accepting your poison!” muttered the lame elder.

  “Give me my mates now,” I said very softly. People leaned forward to hear. “I need them and they need me. We keep one another healthy.”

  “Let it be with them,” Aaor supplemented. “Let them comfort one another. They’ve been apart for days now.”

  They argued for a while, their hostility slowly decreasing like a wound healing. In the end Francisco himself freed Jesusa and TomÁs. They came out of their prison rooms and took me between them, and the elders and old fertiles watched with conflicting emotions of fear, anger, envy, and fascination.

  13

  We stayed.

  We healed the people in spite of our guards. We healed our guards.

 

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