Diuturnity's Dawn

by Foster, Alan Dean;

  "This is one of your storage devices. In the time I have spent among your kind, I have learned how to manipulate and make use of many such moderately ingenious devices. I used one of your own recording appliances instead of mine so that copies could be easily made, transshipped, or otherwise passed along." He laid the molly on Karasi's desk. "It contains exhaustive documentation of the kinds of incidents I have been examining."

  For the first time, Cullen's curiosity surpassed his sense of courtesy. "What incidents?"

  "Almost from the day humans claimed Comagrave and began to establish a presence here, there have been a disturbing number of fatal accidents and confrontations."

  Cullen was solemn, but not particularly impressed. "Exploration and development of a new world invariably entails sacrifices. And Comagrave is no New Paris or New Riviera - or Willow-Wane, for that matter. If not unreservedly hostile, the environment here can be difficult. So can the flora and fauna."

  Pilwondepat gestured impatiently, not even bothering to wonder if the human exoarcheologist understood any of the elaborate hand movements. "All that is true, but it does not explain the consistency of catastrophe you have been experiencing." He indicated the molly. "I have taken the liberty of putting together several mathematical models based on my studies that I think your people will find interesting."

  "Why?" Cullen challenged him politely. "Because they'll show that Comagrave is a little more dangerous than most? We know that already."

  Pilwondepat's frustration continued to grow. By now, his antennae were bobbing and weaving wildly. "It's not that! Far too many times, when misfortune has struck, the AAnn have been right there, either with assistance or advice."

  Cullen pursed his lips. "Some people might think that was good of them."

  "There is on Hivehom a class of scavengers who invariably materialize at the scene of a catastrophe, as if they can smell death. Unchallenged, they will immediately start to consume the dead. No one thinks that is especially good of them." He thrust the tips of both antennae in the human's direction. "The AAnn are too often present at the finish of assorted tragedies, like unsought punctuation at the end of a statement." A chitinous blue-green finger nudged the molly. "Go on, Cullen. See for yourself. Nearly every 'accident' reported therein coincides with a concurrent episode of AAnn 'helpfulness.' "

  "I'm still not sure what you're trying to say," the exoarcheologist replied softly.

  The thranx sat back on four trulegs. "That almost without exception, whenever some tragedy has befallen your people on this world, AAnn have followed close, too close, behind. That in these matters they are being proactive and not reactive."

  Cullen's attention was now fully engaged. "You're trying to tell me that they're not responding to these mishaps, but that they're causing them?"

  Taking no chances, Pilwondepat did not rely on strong gesticulations to convey his response. "That is exactly what I am saying."

  "But . . . why?"

  "To convince you that Comagrave is not worth the grief it can cause you. To persuade your government, or at the very least your public opinion, that human interests in this part of the Arm would be better served by turning administration and development of this particular planet over to the Empire. And they will accomplish this, I fear, if your people are not enlightened as to what is taking place under their very olfactory organs, and do not become alert to the scaled ones' calculating machinations."

  The chief scientist was silent for a long moment. Rising from his contemplation, he regarded the gleaming being who waited patiently on the other side of the desk.

  "That's quite an accusation, Pilwondepat."

  "I assure you, my friend, that it is not made lightly."

  Cullen nodded, more to himself than to the thranx. "I hardly know what to say. I'm an exoarcheologist. I'm someone who's at home below ground level, not in the rarified atmosphere of interstellar intrigue."

  "Say that you'll study the recording device, and consider its contents." To his satisfaction, Pilwondepat saw that the biped was doing that already. "And you must not discuss this meeting with Riimadu, or let on in any way that we have talked about such things."

  "I won't. I promise. Just for the sake of discussion, though - why not? You don't think he'd do anything, do you? He's an exoarcheologist, just like you and me. He's completely absorbed in the excavation we're undertaking here atop this escarpment."

  "Riimadu is AAnn. He is absorbed in promoting himself foremost, yes, but he is also part of the web that his kind are attempting to weave around this world. Step lightly in his presence, and have a care you are not unwittingly caught in that snare." One more time, Pilwondepat indicated the sphere. "There are already enough unpleasant statistics recorded on that device. I would hate to see you, my friend, become another."

  "Now you're being overly dramatic."

  "Am I, chirritt ? Peruse the molly. Then decide."

  Cullen looked unhappy. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Pilwondepat. Not without having a look at that molly. But a conspiracy on that scale is hard to envision."

  "The AAnn would not say conspiracy. They would say 'diplomacy.' Their definitions are somewhat rougher than yours or ours."

  The exoarcheologist rose from behind his desk and began pacing parallel to the back wall of the room. "For the sake of discussion, let's say there's something to your assertions. What am I supposed to do with Riimadu? I can't just kick him off the dig. His government expects him to be here, recording and observing. He has authorization."

  Pilwondepat gestured with both truhands. "You are in charge of the project. Exercise that authority. Find an excuse. Say that it's for his own benefit. Or propose that he enjoy the break from work that his hard labor has earned him. There are ways."

  "I know; I know." Cullen's discomfort level was rising with every moment. "But it's going to be difficult. If not for his suggestions, we wouldn't even be digging here." He halted suddenly to stare down at the thranx. "How about that, Pilwondepat? If there's some widespread intrigue on the part of the AAnn, why would one of them point out what could prove to be an important archeological site? Why not direct us elsewhere and keep the site discovery quiet until they can excavate on their own?"

  Air whistled softly through Pilwondepat's spicules. It was important to be patient with this human, he reminded himself. Sometimes they failed to make out certain aspects of the world around them until it landed on their heads. And they had experienced only a comparatively few years of contact with the AAnn, as opposed to the hundreds the thranx had been compelled to endure. They could not be expected to understand right away.

  But somehow, he had to make at least one of them in a position of some importance learn tosee . For a number of reasons, not least that he knew and worked with him, he had chosen the one called Cullen Karasi.

  "Why not let you provide the muscle power and equipment and do the work for them? If their ultimate aim is to ease you off the planet, what you do here will not matter. It's not as if you are attempting to ascertain the existence of an enormous body of valuable ore. It's only pure science. From my studies, I believe that pure science does not command many votes on your world council."

  "You're quite the cynic, Pilwondepat."

  Antennae bobbed. "All thranx are realists, Cullen. When you come from a society where in primitive times every individual knew their entire life's work from birth, you have no choices."

  The human nodded slowly, another gesture Pilwondepat recognized. Humans preferred broad, easy-to-read gestures that rarely displayed the subtlety of the AAnn. There was not much there to admire, but it made for ready understanding.

  Ceasing his pacing, Cullen resumed his seat behind the field desk. "All right. Let's have a look at this accumulated 'evidence' of yours." Picking up the molly, he dropped it into the appropriate receptacle on top of his desk reader. Images appeared in the air in front of him.

  Though he wanted to comment on every picture, every article, Pilwondepat forced himself to hold
his peace. Interrupting the already skeptical Cullen would break the human's concentration and prevent him from absorbing the full impact of the thranx's research. It was important that the man not blindly accept Pilwondepat's accusations, but that he draw his own conclusions directly from the available evidence. So Pilwondepat sat in silence, not moving except for the familiar involuntary weaving of his antennae, and tried not to stare.

  Half an hour later, Cullen switched off the viewer and sat back in his chair. "It's disturbing. I'll give you that. Some of it is unsettling, even. But it's not conclusive."

  "Will you at least agree that it is worthy of further examination?"

  Cullen might be skeptical, but he was not stupid. A trained scientist, he could not ignore evidence when it was laid out before him. "Yes, I'm afraid that it is. I just don't think I'm the one to pursue it." He indicated the viewer. "This sort of thing needs to be distributed to the supervising colonial authority, not somebody involved in research, like myself. Why did you show it to me instead of taking it directly to them?" he finished curiously.

  "Because it will have more force coming from you," Pilwondepat explained. "Too many of your people shy away from contact with my kind. Others are instinctively suspicious, and there are also those who are openly hostile. Had I been the one to lay this evidence directly before the most relevant human authority, I might well have been dismissed without a hearing. Or I might have been received politely, only to have the data tossed into the nearest disposal as soon as I departed. But if you, a recognized figure of some stature within your chosen specialty, make a presentation on its behalf, you will be listened to; and the documentation, if not instantly acknowledged, will at least be discussed." He dropped to all sixes again. "You will make such a presentation, Cullen? I did not invent the collusions you just viewed. They are as real as the rock we are standing upon. As are the intentions of the AAnn."

  The human scratched at the back of his head. "You're putting me in a very awkward position, Pilwondepat. Especially as regards Riimadu's continued presence on the site. There are a lot more AAnn on Comagrave than there are thranx."

  "A consequence of an unfortunate climate, but I sympathize with your circumstances. Consider that being dead would put you in a much more difficult position."

  "Regardless of what his Imperial brethren may be up to, I'm not sure I can accept your portrait of Riimadu. He's been nothing but helpful ever since he was attached to the project. We talk science all the time, and I really do see him as a kindred spirit, albeit one covered with scales. It's very hard for me to envision him participating in some kind of hostile activity, much less one that might prove antiscientific."

  Pilwondepat executed a complicated gesture that Cullen did not understand, which was probably just as well. "Whatever you think, whatever occurs in his presence, all I ask is that you never forget that he is AAnn.Yi!mt, he is a scientist.Yi!mt, he has been helpful. But if the appropriate situation presents itself, I can assure you from the bottom of my individual and racial hearts that he will put a weapon to the side of your skull and without a second thought, blow your brains out through your opposite ear."

  He'd gone a little too far, Pilwondepat saw. In his anxiety to persuade his friend of the danger he had uncovered, he had stepped beyond the bounds of courtesy and diplomacy that Cullen was willing to accept. It was as visible in the human's rubbery face as if it had been written there with an antique stylus.

  "Do this, then," he added quickly. "Leave Riimadu alone. Let him do his work. I'll watch him myself. I do it anyway, out of a historical sense of self-preservation. But convey my findings to the appropriate planetary authority. Relate what I have concluded, give your own opinion, and let them view the facts that are known. If you will do that much, I will be able to sleep a little easier knowing that something is being done."

  Cullen willingly agreed. "I'll send off a copy of the information together with my personal comments right away. Tonight, if you think it that important."

  "No, no!" Four hands waved frantically at the taller human. "Nothing can be sent via the planetary communications net. I would bet my antennae that the AAnn have been intercepting and monitoring all such transmissions ever since their presence on the planet was allowed. I would not feel secure forwarding the data under anything less than military-level encryption."

  Cullen shrugged apologetically. "This is only a scientific outpost. I don't have access to anything that hard."

  "I understand. Therefore, in order to ensure not only the security of the findings but of your own self, you will have to deliver the information in person."

  Cullen hesitated. For an awful moment Pilwondepat felt as if the human was going to dismiss the entire matter. Then the senior scientist nodded once, slowly. "All right, we'll do it your way. The next regular supply flight will be in nine days. I have a few things I'd like to do in town, and I'm overdue for a scheduled break. In addition to making the necessary rounds, and enjoying a little rest and relaxation, I'll make an appointment with the highest-level enforcement official who has time to spare, and I'll present your report. I'll also relay your conclusions. Myself, I'm not quite ready to draw any. No final ones, at least."

  Pilwondepat would have heaved a sigh of relief, except that thranx do not heave. He did, however, exhale softly. "That will be most satisfactory, Cullen. Meanwhile, I will keep track of the activities, both formal and otherwise, of our mutual acquaintance Riimadu. The critical thing is not that action is taken immediately, but that your authorities are made aware of what the AAnn are doing. Alerted, they will be able to draw their own conclusions. Especially when further incidents of the type I have compiled continue to recur. Your people will then be able to view them with a different eye. I am satisfied."

  Cullen was relieved. "Then we can get back to the business of science?"

  The thranx gestured straightforward agreement. "It will be a comfort to me, though I will not be able to entirely relax until the last AAnn is expelled from this world. Politely and diplomatically, or otherwise."

  Cullen tried to explain without dismissing. "You have to understand, Pilwondepat, that in the absence of direct evidence of wrongdoing, human authorities have a tendency to move with caution. Nothing's likely to happen right away."

  "It will come." Pilwondepat was confident now. "The more unfortunate coincidences involving the AAnn that occur, the more likely your people will be to see that they are not coincidences at all. There will be an acceleration of awareness."

  "Nine days." Cullen came around from behind the desk to place a reassuring hand on the thranx's b-thorax. "Think you can stand working in Riimadu's company that long?"

  "As long as should prove necessary." The thranx swiveled his head almost 180 degrees. "It's easier for me to watch my back than it is for you to guard yours."

  At that point Therese Holoness burst into the chamber, nearly beating the doorway's announcing buzz. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide open and alert. She glanced uncertainly at the thranx before settling her gaze on Cullen.

  "Come quick, Mr. Karasi!"

  Cullen's eyes flicked in Pilwondepat's direction before returning to the young woman. "What is it, Therese? What's wrong?"

  She blinked in confusion. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, sir. Please, come with me. You're not going to believe what we've found."

  10

  The humidity at Chitteranx Port hit Baron Preed NNXV like a grit-heavy sandstorm. Gasping, he hastened to activate the dehumidifier strapped to his snout. Immediately, air from which virtually every trace of moisture had been removed flowed down his nasal passages and into his lungs. Relieved, he stepped out into the otherwise amenable climate that filled the terminal. What he really needed, he reflected, was the visual equivalent of a dehumidifier for his eyes. Or more properly, a debugger.

  The place was full of thranx. The insectoids were everywhere: operating greeting stations, food and drink facilities, rushing to and fro in hideous numbers. That was not surprising, since Chitter
anx was a major port of arrival and embarkation on this continent, and Hivehom was their homeworld. That did not make the place any easier to tolerate. Like all his kind, Preed loathed the multilimbed, hard-shelled creatures. What he wanted to do was wade into the seething mass and start pulling off arms and legs and heads. Aside from the fact that he was more than slightly outnumbered and such action would result in his own expeditious demise, it would reflect badly on his mission.

  Diplomats, he reminded himself, were to be discouraged from dismembering their hosts.

  It was not the thranx he had come to see, however. Had that been the case, he would have landed at Daret and checked in with the official Imperial Embassy there. His mission was rather more circumspect. The thranx had been reluctant to allow it. But since no state of active hostilities existed between the Great Hive and the Empire, they were unable to find a good reason to refuse the official request. It was to be an informal visit, the AAnn officials in charge of making the arrangements had insisted. Nothing conclusive was on order. As a major power friendly to both sides, the AAnn simply wished to see how the humans who had located on Hivehom were doing. The thranx didn't like it, but could not find a legitimate way to refuse without giving unnecessary offense.

  Preed had been chosen because of his mastery of the humans' language and a tolerance for difficult conditions. He was flattered by the endorsement and could not in any event have gracefully refused. So here he was, surrounded by bugs, on his way to see spongy, soft-skinned mammals. The familiar comforts of Blassussar seemed a very long way off indeed.

  The heavy protective clothing he would need to tolerate the visit to the human outpost was packed securely in the satchel he carried slung over his right shoulder. Striding forward, the dehumidifier across his snout distorting his otherwise courtly profile, he searched in vain for the tube that would take him to the shuttle that would convey him to the Mediterranea Plateau, where the humans had their settlement. His flight connection was deliberately scheduled tight, so that he would not have to spend any more time in lowland Chitteranx than was absolutely necessary. A check of his chronometer showed that he had no time to linger. Growling deep in his throat, he realized that he was going to have to ask directions.