Relic

11

From the solitary nighttime scout Ruslan had encountered on his ill-conceived walking excursion to the individual members of the more insistent delegation that had responded to the scout’s report, the Vrizan on Treth had been stiffly correct if not exactly convivial. No such pretensions afflicted the faction that descended on the outpost the following night.

As he helped Cherpa to dress he reflected angrily on the fact that no one had bothered to tell him that, just as on Treth, the Vrizan also had their research teams hard at work on Daribb. No doubt Twi’win and her colleagues had seen no reason to mention it, since he and his colleagues were unlikely to have any contact with representatives of that competing and competitive species. Well, the unlikely had happened.

It took the form of alarms and warnings that sounded both on private and general communications. This was followed by a broadcast cautioning that the outpost’s security had been violated and that resistance was being organized. Distant sharp echoes suggested that small arms were being employed. While he was sorry for what Cherpa had been forced to endure while growing up and surviving on her own, at that moment he was grateful for her enforced maturity. He did not have to rustle her awake. The instant he touched her shoulder, she was wide-eyed and alert.

“We have to get dressed, Cherpa. There’s a problem.” She nodded, watching him intently, and did not try to contradict him or waste time with unnecessary questions. “There’s another sentient species, the Vrizan, who are also studying this world. They—they and the Myssari don’t really seem to like each other much. For one thing, they argue over who should own certain scientific discoveries.” As he talked she was sliding into a singlet that fit like a second skin. “Right now I think they’re arguing over who owns us.”

Fully clad, she snatched up the doll and held it close. “Are they nice people, too, like the Myssari?”

He started to reply and found himself hesitating. What, after all, did he know about Vrizan society beyond what his three-legged friends had told him? His brief encounters with them had been nothing if not contradictory. For all he knew, the people of their homeworld might be as accommodating and supportive as those of Myssar.

The Myssari, however, were a known quantity. He recalled the confrontation on Treth. Regardless of the scout’s blandishments and whatever other racial characteristics they possessed, the Vrizan there, at least, had shown themselves to be interested in him but notably less… polite than the Myssari.

Snatching up a water dispenser and a couple of sucrose-laden twists—Myssari snacks that were perfectly acceptable to the human digestive system—he took her hand.

“Where are we going, Bogo?” Taking two steps to his every stride, she kept pace easily.

“I don’t know yet,” he muttered. “I don’t know.” What he did know was that he did not want to be caught between two violently disputatious groups of aliens. “We have to hide, at least for a little while. And I haven’t any idea where to hide. I don’t know this outpost very well.”

She smiled brightly. “I know where we can hide.”

He eyed her in surprise. “You do? Where?” Higher up within the outpost the sound of fighting rose and fell, angry waves of noise crashing on an insufficiently distant shore.

“Outside.”

He stared at her. “We can’t ‘hide’ outside. There are dangerous animals outside and…”

He stopped. How could he presume to lecture someone who had grown up and survived all their life in this hostile environment on the dangers of native fauna? She knew more about what lurked in the mudflats than he could learn if he had years in which to study it. But there was also the matter of her mental imbalance. Did she know what she was talking about, or was she just being innocently agreeable?

Something loud and metallic went smash in the distance. Bending, he brought his face close to hers. “What does Oola say?”

Cherpa looked at her doll. “Oola says if there’s danger we should get the hell out of here right now.”

He straightened. “Come on then.”

They encountered no one, Myssari or Vrizan, as he led the way down toward the only one of the outpost’s surface-level exits he could recall having passed and identified. It was helpful that it lay on the opposite side of the installation from the driftec landing platform, which by now was possibly under the control of the encroaching Vrizan. Myssari resistance to their intrusion would likewise be concentrated in that area. Indeed, as he and Cherpa descended a stairwell designed to accommodate its three-legged builders, the sounds of fighting receded into the distance.

It occurred to him that they could remain where they were, hiding in the stairwell, in the hope that the Myssari would beat off the incursion. On the other hand, if he was wrong…

Beset by circumstances that were nothing if not confusing, he opted to keep moving. Moments later they were standing in the maintenance chamber he remembered from the one formal tour of the outpost to which he and his companions had been subjected. Then he had thought it a waste of time; now he was grateful for it.

All that was required to get the membrane lock that was integrated into the portal to yield was the touch of his warm hand. Holding on to the side of the opening, he leaned forward and looked out. In the absence of a moon, it was exceedingly dark. Swinging himself out and around so that he was facing the exterior of the structure, he took a couple of steps downward. Other than the fact that the wide individual rungs were spaced more closely together vertically than they would have been on a human ladder, primate hands and feet had no difficulty negotiating a descent intended for Myssari technicians. The close spacing, he decided, would make it easier for Cherpa.

Tilting back his head to face the portal, he held tight to a rung with one hand and extended the other upward. “Come on, Cherpa. It’s okay. I’ll help you—”

Scampering past him while still clinging to her doll, she sped down the entire length of the ladder and dropped silently into the mud before he had time to fully react. Her upturned face barely illuminated by starlight, she met his gaze.

“Hurry up, Bogo!”

Carefully making his way down the rest of the ladder, he resolved that from now on he would not offer help to the girl unless she specifically requested his assistance.

It was late enough for the mud to have shucked off most of the day’s accumulated heat. Following her lead, he lay down in it and turned on his back so that only his face was exposed. The dark, clammy ooze immediately began to seep into his clothing, finding openings where he imagined none existed, working its way into the corners and crevices of his body. He tried not to think of the glut of alien microorganisms that were being carried along on the tide of organic sludge.

“This way,” she urged him. “Like this.”

Looking to his left, he saw that utilizing a modified back crab crawl, she had begun to work her way away from the outpost. By dint of pushing and shoving, he mimicked her as best he could, though she had to repeatedly stop and wait for him to catch up.

Traveling on his back had its advantages, he persuaded himself. With all but a portion of their faces concealed by the mud, they were much less likely to be spotted by eager-eyed Vrizan, even if the intruders thought to scan the outpost’s surroundings. Also, he could look back at the buildings as they moved away from them. In the dim light it was possible to make out little more than the integrated structure’s general outline and the lights that gleamed from numerous ports. The sounds of fighting faded as they moved farther and farther away from the complex.

These were replaced by the natural night sounds of the mudflats. Peeping and hooting, soft squeals and insistent squeaks, chirps and grunts and bellows began to compete for his attention. Occasionally turning his head from side to side revealed intermittent shadows rising above the flat surface only to disappear quickly into the depths. One time, the firmer ground beneath him sank away and he found himself struggling to swim back to more solid footing. The Myssari had constructed their outpost where the mudflats were shallowest. Elsewhere, he knew, the mud was kilometers deep. In such places lived relatives of the nalack: eyeless monsters he preferred not to envision.

The outpost’s silhouette had grown small when he began to notice the lights around him. Half were comparatively motionless. The rest swarmed at varying speeds around his suspended form. They flickered to life like so many thousands of tiny, individual illuminators. Present in every color of the rainbow and in shapes ranging from the animated to the purely geometric, they brightened his immediate surroundings to the point where he could see Cherpa clearly. With only her face visible above the surface, she looked like a ceramic effigy from an ancient time, when humans had worn masks and makeup to celebrate pagan rituals.

It was a beautiful thing to see the bioluminescent creatures responding to his and her presence. It was disconcerting to feel them sliding along the bare skin of his arms and neck and wriggling upward against his legs and down past his shoulders. Knowing only the basics of Daribbian ecology, he could only hope that none of the tiny luminescent creatures were parasitic, and that if they were, his alien biology would repel instead of welcome them. Taking a risk, he raised his head and upper body out of the mud.

The oceanic flats in which they lay were coming alive with lights. Not millions this time but uncountable trillions. Seeing the look on his face, Cherpa clarified.

“The moglow happens every night. Didn’t you know, Bogo?”

“No. No, I didn’t know. Every night that I’ve been here I’ve been sound alseep, deep inside the outpost. I never thought to get up after dark to look at mud. None of the personnel assigned to the outpost bothered to tell me there might be something worth looking at.”

“It’s probably real familiar to them so they didn’t think of it,” she replied thoughtfully. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

He stared in awe at the multicolored, brightly illuminated surface of the mudflats. “Yes, it’s pretty, Cherpa. Very, very pretty.”

“Lots of nights I’d sneak to the edge of the docks and try to count all the colors. I like the night.” Barely visible above the mud, her upturned face was the placid nexus of a maelstrom of tiny living stars and nebulae. “Most of the time I like it, but not always. Sometimes it eats.”

Alarmed, he lay back down, once more submerging his upper body fully beneath the surface. “You mean the lights?”

She laughed softly, at once childlike and adult. “No, silly. The night. The night eats.”

He considered pressing her for details but decided against it. If anything more dangerous than the diminutive light-emitting mud dwellers was nearby, it was just as well he remained ignorant of its presence. With escape being foremost in his mind, they had been forced to flee the outpost without a weapon. All he had to defend himself and Cherpa against an attack were his hands and feet. Though hardly proficient with either, he determined to place himself between any hostile lifeform and the girl. If they were assaulted, it could eat him first. He smiled grimly to himself. Had Bac’cul, Cor’rin, and the other Myssari scientists been present, they would have heartily approved his decision.

Meanwhile they could only chat quietly, wait to see what the dawn would bring, and float in the warm, slick mud, suspended between stars above and stars below.

The neosone was not interested in lights, either of the distant thermonuclear or the proximate organic variety. It was interested in food, a potential source of which had manifested itself close by. Drawn by the unusual set of vibrations in the mud, it had homed in rapidly on the source. It skimmed along just above the surface, propelled and supported by the electrical field generated by specialized cells within its broad but paper-thin body. Upon locating its prey, it would stun it with a powerful electric shock before contracting around it and enveloping it like a blanket. Then digestion could begin.

As it neared the source of the disturbance, it slowed, hovering just above the greasy surface. A line of primitive eyes along its front end could discern shape and color but no detail. Of one thing it was immediately certain: the two organisms floating before it were like nothing it had encountered before. Large and dense, they emitted no light whatsoever. Protein they possessed in plenty, but it was of a composition unfamiliar to the neosone. It hesitated. The two organisms were lying virtually motionless. A successful attack would require little effort.

The predator was not concerned should their substance prove indigestible. That it might be dodgy, or even toxic, was of more immediate concern. The only way to find out would be to taste. It moved closer, virtually indistinguishable from the mudflat itself. Still the prey creatures did not stir.

Then it perceived that the lesser of the potential victims was clutching a third, still smaller shape. In outline it perfectly mimicked the larger pair. But instead of potentially edible proteins, the third figure gave back no indication that it was composed of organic materials. Unable to fathom this discrepancy, the neosone held back. It could not understand why of three otherwise identical shapes, two should be patently organic and the third not.

In light of such confusion it determined that caution outweighed any hunger pangs. Expressing a stronger repulsion field, it rose slightly higher, accelerated, and shot off in search of safer, more familiar prey.

Lying on his back in the mud, his face turned skyward, an increasingly relaxed Ruslan noted what appeared to be a wispy cirrus cloud as it passed rapidly over him, momentarily obscuring the stars.

The Vrizan were far too clever to employ lethal weapons. Killing even one of the Myssari would have ignited trouble that would have led to repercussions far beyond Daribb. Every sidearm they carried was designed to stun or otherwise incapacitate its target, not to kill. Equally aware of the larger issues at stake, the Myssari responded in kind. The result was a pain-filled but ultimately bloodless battle that ended with the Vrizan in control of the outpost.

A pack of them confronted Twi’win, her top advisors, and the two visiting researchers in the upper conference chamber. The curved wall on one side had darkened considerably in response to the rising sun. All of the Myssari had been disarmed. Deprived of weaponry, Twi’win took the initiative with words. Just in case there should be confusion over the use of any particular invective, automatic translators were present on both sides.

“This outrage will not go unreported! You have attacked a station whose mandate is solely for peaceful scientific purposes.”

“You have been visited by the personnel of a Vrizan installation whose mandate is solely for peaceful scientific purposes.” In echoing her accusation, the commander of the Vrizan force was plainly not in the least troubled by Twi’win’s outrage. “However, when another species flaunts their illegal presence on a world whose exploration rights have long since been awarded to the Vrizan Integument, that species should not expect the owners of those rights to demonstrate eternal patience.” A hand gestured at their surroundings. “By treaty, this outpost should have been dismantled and abandoned long ago. Instead, it bears every hallmark of having been strengthened and expanded.”

Turning to one of her advisors, Twi’win conferred with the intermet before replying. “This outpost was established before the terms of the treaty to which you refer was agreed upon. Its continued presence is therefore validated by precedence.”

“It is not.” The Vrizan commander was struggling to keep a leash on his anger.

Twi’win cleared her throat, which resulted in a high-pitched whistle bouncing through the chamber. “If you will scan Section Four, Subsection Twenty-two, of the treaty in question, it quite specifically states that—”

In a visually arresting display of alien circulation, the Vrizan commander’s horizontally elongated cranium flushed crimson at the center before the intensifying tint spread outward toward the opposite ends of his head. At the same time, the row of small fleshy appendages atop his skull rippled like brown seaweed in a strong current.

“We are not here to debate the fine points of a treaty that was agreed upon and sealed elsewhere! Your continued presence constitutes violation enough. That you seek to remove artifacts that, by that same treaty, are the property of the Integument represents an escalation of provocation that could no longer be ignored!”

To a watching Bac’cul and Cor’rin, Twi’win proceeded to demonstrate an unexpected talent for feigning ignorance.

“I am sure I have no notion whatsoever of what you are talking about.” Unable to blink, she executed the Myssari equivalent, which consisted of temporarily passing one hand across her eyes.

Once more the Vrizan commander was not taken aback. “A fool can play innocent only with another fool.” His tone grew sharper still. “Do not make the mistake of thinking you are engaging with a fool.”

“I would not presume to do so,” Twi’win replied with mock seriousness.

“The property to which I refer involves an example of local life located and recovered from the human city known as Dinabu. Specifically, a live human being.” Bac’cul and Cor’rin tried not to show their unease. Truly this Vrizan was no fool. “The report prepared by our automatics and reviewed by my staff suggests but does not confirm that it is an immature specimen. Enhanced imagery clearly shows it visible in the company of a mature example of the same supposedly extinct species.”

Unable to remain quiet any longer in the face of the Vrizan’s facts, Cor’rin spoke up. “The mature specimen’s name is Ruslan, he was found by one of our exploration teams on the human-settled world of Seraboth, and he has been the property of the Myssari Combine for many, many time-parts!”

The Vrizan looked at her out of the large, swiveling eyes located at opposite ends of his elongated skull. “Your claim to the mature example of humankind is not in dispute here. We assert ownership rights only to the specimen that was found living on Daribb, in the city known as Dinabu, as is our entitlement by treaty.” A humming sound that might have been laughter emerged from the depths of the commander’s throat. “While your disagreeable continued presence here may have some basis in pre-treaty argument, our right to all archeological discoveries of importance is clear. The immature specimen—a female, I am told—belongs to us.”

Though caught off guard by the Vrizan’s entirely reasonable rejoinder, Twi’win recovered as best she was able. “The female juvenile will not be parted from the adult. Insofar as any of us knows, they are the last two surviving examples of their kind. Would you, who claim to be so much more civilized than us, so callously tear them apart?”

“Naturally we would prefer another course of action. What do you take us for?” The strange throaty humming sound came again. “You state that the Myssari have had possession of the adult human for a considerable period of time. Ample time, then, for you to have learned all you can from it. For the good of the juvenile, you should therefore commit both of them to our care.” He paused a moment. “Ponder this, and then instruct me again on who has the better right to be called civilized.”

It was a clever trap. Bac’cul knew that Twi’win could claim, truthfully, that she did not have the power to make such a decision. The Vrizan commander’s response would doubtless be that he and his colleagues could wait until she received it from the proper authorities. The researcher tensed. Surely Twi’win would not agree to such a proposal, not even to stall for time. She would know, as he and Cor’rin knew, that the need to preserve harmony between competing interstellar governments could easily result in far-off Myssari functionaries making very bad decisions.

Twi’win therefore opted to avoid the snare entirely. “The specimens to which you refer are no longer here.”

While startled by this pronouncement, Bac’cul and Cor’rin managed to conceal their surprise. The Vrizan rolled his eyes, an extraordinary sight. When they had ceased rotating at the ends of his skull, he spoke slowly and carefully.

“What did I just say about not thinking you were playing with a fool? Our automatics saw your heavily armed ‘researchers’ escort both humans into a driftec, which then lifted off and headed in this direction. This is the only Myssari infection on Daribb. No starships have entered this system since our own most recent resupply vessel.”

Twi’win was adamant. “I repeat: the specimens to which you refer are no longer at this outpost.”

“Then where are they?” The Vrizan made no attempt to hide his exasperation—or his rapidly diminishing patience. Though as interested in the answer as the Vrizan, Bac’cul and Cor’rin kept silent and waited.

The outpost director executed a gesture of complete puzzlement, which involved some intricate crossing of all three of her arms while slightly bowing her head toward the resultant geometric creation. “I am ashamed to admit that I do not know. None of us does. It is a terrible development that will reflect badly on all of our professional records.”

“Do you expect us to be—” The Vrizan caught himself. “Our respective peoples have known each other for a very long time. We are as familiar with Myssari physiology as you are with ours. Ways of ascertaining whether or not a Myssari is telling the truth are not unknown to us.” He paused to give Twi’win and her companions time to absorb the veiled threat.

Twi’win did not hesitate. As she reached out with her central arm, she extended the others to the sides. “As long as they produce no lasting adverse effects, we welcome whatever method of inquiry and interrogation you would like to employ. I offer myself as the first subject. You are also welcome to conduct a physical search of our facilities, which are entirely scientific and supportive in nature. I will provide guides to ensure that you miss nothing. If you feel that you are in any way being misled, please do feel free to point out in what respect that may be the case and your concerns will be addressed.”

If Bac’cul and Cor’rin had been surprised by Twi’win’s response thus far, her latest pronouncement left them shocked. No longer able to deny the existence of the two humans, was she now attempting to bluff the Vrizan commander? He did not seem a type who would be vulnerable to such an approach. His prompt reply confirmed it.

“We accept your offer. I promise that my people will disturb nothing beyond what is necessary to satisfy our interest, and that compensation will be offered for any damage that inadvertently transpires.” Turning, he murmured to one of his two aides. The officer departed, presumably to organize the search.

“Barring any interference on the part of your staff, this scrutiny should not take long. We have lifeforce proximity detectors that will reveal the presence of any large beings even if they should be temporarily sealed within a wall or beneath a floor. I assure you that wherever you have hidden the specimens, they will be found.” The smooth, sweeping gesture he executed bordered on the elegant. “Be assured that when they are found, no opprobrium will accrue to you. Were our positions reversed, I would myself try as hard as possible to secure such valuable specimens for future study. But they will be found and the juvenile, at least, removed. As to the fate of the mature individual, that can be discussed further once he has been recovered.”

Cor’rin could stand it no longer. “You speak of him as if he is something to be studied under a microscope, like a slime mold! These surviving humans are as intelligent as any of their species. They are independent beings who possess the right to determine their own fate and future!”

Eyes set far apart locked on the researcher. “A fair and honest appraisal. In that light I will be certain to remind the adult of his options. I have been informed that such were presented to him on Treth, but that the manner and circumstances in which said choices were offered might not have been the most agreeable. I will try to do better.” The Vrizan’s command of Myssari sarcasm was commendable. “As ‘civilized’ beings, naturally you will offer no objection if, when presented with an alternative to living the rest of his natural life among the Myssari, he opts to voluntarily come with us and the juvenile.” His tone hardened again. “The juvenile is Vrizan property. Her future is not negotiable.”

Leaving behind one aide and a subordinate, the commander and his adjutant exited the conference chamber. Outside, the sun had risen high enough to turn the perpetually beleaguered sky a sick, sad shade of yellow-orange. In the conference chamber the Myssari gathered near one high, curving transparent wall. While never taking their eyes from them, the two Vrizan guards relaxed slightly.

Switching to a dialect less likely to be understood by their watchers even if they had the capability to overhear conversation at such a distance, an anxious Bac’cul immediately confronted the outpost director.

“What do you mean, you do not know where the humans are? If they are not in Ruslan’s quarters, then they must be somewhere else within the outpost.”

“Perhaps they heard or saw the Vrizan’s arrival and, correctly interpreting their intentions, hurried themselves to the best hiding place they could imagine,” an equally apprehensive Cor’rin added.

It did not bolster their confidence to see that Twi’win, now freed from confrontation with the Vrizan commander, suddenly appeared as uneasy as the two researchers.

“It is much easier to defy a captor when one only has to speak the truth. Unfortunately, that is the situation. I truly do have no idea where the humans have taken themselves. When the Vrizan appeared and made their intentions clear, the first thing I did was send armed personnel to watch over the specimens. They found them fled. As to their present location”—she gestured with all three hands—“what I told the foul Vrizan was true. I do not know where they are or where they might have gone.”

“Somewhere deep within the station.” Bac’cul felt no relief in his conviction. “Attempting to conceal themselves among the hydrologics, perhaps, or even the by-products treatment facilities.”

“It will not matter in the end.” A distraught Cor’rin was slowly resigning herself to the possible loss of at least one if not both of the two irreplaceable specimens. “You heard the commander. His intentions as well as his species may be distasteful, but the Vrizan are undeniably competent. They will find the humans.”

“Do you think the adult will opt to go with them?” Twi’win wanted to know. “If so, it will be a bad thing. Very bad.”

“A serious loss to Myssari science,” Bac’cul concurred. “He refused their blandishments on Treth.” Despite this observation the researcher did not sound confident. “This Vrizan strikes me as more persuasive. I cannot say what Ruslan’s decision might be. He has become settled with his life among us. But if they insist on taking the juvenile, I cannot envision a scenario where he would abandon the only other living human he has encountered since his youth on Seraboth.”

“Kel’les might know.” Cor’rin eyed her companions thoughtfully. “Where is Ruslan’s handler now?”

Under guard, they could not leave the conference chamber to look for the intermet whose permanent assignment was to look after the human. In any event they would not have had much time to search, because the Vrizan commander rejoined them much sooner than expected. The agitated rustling of his leaflike cranial appendages as well as the darkened color of his elongated visage reflected his frustration. At any moment his annoyance threatened to spill over into anger. His second-in-command and two additional armed aides appeared no less irritated.

“Your honesty is most irksome.” Though far from expert in the interpretation of Vrizan expressions, which were nearly as diverse as those of humans, Bac’cul felt that it was with great effort that the commander was withholding a desire to shoot one of the restrained Myssari. Any one of the restrained Myssari.

“We had no reason to lie to you,” Twi’win told him, demonstrating admirable poise.

Wide-spaced eyes zeroed in on her. “You had every reason to lie to us. Yet it appears you have not done so. Both the equipment we have and the personnel trained in its use have found no sign of the two humans. Nothing larger than a maggot escaped their notice. I must therefore conclude that the specimens are indeed no longer present within this illegitimate facility. This leads inevitably to the question of where they are at present.”

Risking spontaneous demise, Cor’rin chirped, “Not here.”

Penetrating eyes shifted their attention from the outpost’s commander to the outspoken researcher. “Restating the obvious does nothing to sate my curiosity while simultaneously shortening my patience.” The Vrizan came toward her. While taller and slightly more massive, he did not loom over her quite as much as did the human. “Perhaps you could be persuaded to reveal their present location?”

Sensing that his commander was on the verge of stepping beyond the bounds of propriety, his adjutant moved forward to place a limber hand on his superior’s arm. As whenever a Vrizan moved, the soft supple crackling of numerous joints was plainly audible. The aide murmured something in Vrizani that the Myssari did not hear clearly. Favoring Cor’rin with a bifurcated stare that could only be described as murderous, the commander stepped back.

“Perhaps,” the adjutant said, “in the absence of a visiting starship, the specimens have been moved to an orbiting station to await its arrival.”

The commander gestured impatiently. “You know that the Myssari maintain several such extra-atmospheric monitors. We tolerate them because we know of them. To my knowledge all are wholly automatic and devoid of the means to sustain visitors even on a temporary basis.”

“To your knowledge, yes,” the aide pointed out. “It is conceivable that our knowledge is imperfect, just as it proved to be inadequate regarding the presence of surviving human lifeforms in the city of Dinabu.”

“Just because our—” The commander paused sharply. “Dinabu. Of course.” Returning his attention to the quietly watching Myssari, his slit of a mouth grew wider. “Where better to hide the specimens than where the immature one was found? I should congratulate you on your obviousness.” He coughed orders at his subordinates, one of whom immediately commenced to spew a stream of instructions into an aural pickup. As the Vrizan moved to leave the conference chamber, the commander turned back to Twi’win and the others.

“I regret that it will be necessary to temporarily disable your communications and transportation capabilities. The respective locks and blocks that will be emplaced will automatically disengage in a day or two. By then we will have concluded our visit to your small outpost at Dinabu and, I believe, recovered our property. As to the matter of the adult human, we will discuss his future possibilities with him in a manner befitting the representatives of two civilized species. I promise you that no coercion will be involved. You will be informed of the outcome promptly.”

As soon as they were gone Bac’cul and Cor’rin confronted the outpost director.

“Were you telling the whole truth when the shameful Vrizan queried you?” Bac’cul was beside himself at the thought of losing not only the newfound girl but Ruslan himself. “Have you had them sent to Dinabu?”

“If so they must be warned, somehow, and moved elsewhere!” Cor’rin was as distressed as her colleague. “As quickly as possible!” Her tone was anguished. “But if our transportation is disabled, how can we—”

“Would that I knew their location,” a glum Twi’win interrupted the researcher. “What I told the Vrizan was the truth entire. I have no idea as to the present location of the two humans. This I do know: they cannot be hiding within the outpost. Vrizan technology is as advanced as our own; in certain aspects, perhaps more so. If the specimens were here, they would have been found.”

Bac’cul was baffled. “Then… where could they be?”

The outpost director turned away from the two scientists and toward the interminable mudflats that stretched away from the research facility in every direction. “Only one conclusion is possible. If they are not hiding within the outpost, then they must be hiding without.”

Cor’rin came up to stand and stare beside her. “Is that possible? Our pre-arrival studies suggested that the general environment is…”

“Hostile.” Swiveling her head more than halfway around, Twi’win regarded her dismayed visitors. “Generally, not unrelievedly, so. While my personnel never venture outside unless they are armed and properly attired, I suppose it is conceivable that one with an intimate knowledge of the Daribbian environment might be able to survive its threats without protection.”

“The juvenile!” Cor’rin exclaimed.

One of the director’s hands gestured in a broad sweep at the surging, sucking surroundings outside. “As nearly all of the human presence here was concentrated in their empty cities, we have expended very little of our limited resources on the study of the mudflats themselves. Aggressive lifeforms aside, they constitute anything but a hospitable environment. The great majority of our work has focused on the derelict urban centers.”

“Whereas humans who lived and matured here must have been forced to learn everything they could about all of their surroundings.” Bac’cul’s voice was full of rising hope. “We must begin a search of the immediate area!”

“How?” Twi’win regarded the researcher with a mixture of compassion and frustration. “With our transportation immobilized we cannot cover any significant ground. We will have to wait until the driftecs are operational once again.”

Cor’rin’s frustration was palpable. “We cannot just squat here waiting for the Vrizan to return! And they will return, once they have finished fruitlessly scouring Dinabu for signs of the two specimens.”

“Let them.” Twi’win sounded anything but accommodating. “If they come back we will be ready for them. Prepared, I am confident my staff can stand them off. Next time they will not have the element of surprise.”

“But,” Bac’cul protested, “what about the humans?”

Already ambling toward the lift that would take her back down into the body of the outpost, the director looked back at him. “We can only hope they are safe and that when our driftecs are once more operational, we can find them before the Vrizan do.” With her assistants in tow she entered the waiting lift and was gone.

Left to themselves, Bac’cul and Cor’rin turned their attention back to the vast mudflats above which the outpost stood, a lonely sentinel of civilization in an environment as intimidating as it was unpleasant.

“We could take Kel’les and go look for the humans ourselves,” he suggested hesitantly.

“How?” She indicated the flat, yellow-brown horizon. “There are no landmarks, nothing to suggest which way they might have gone. If they were close by and standing erect, or even crouching, do you not think the meticulous Vrizan would have spotted them? If they could not locate them with instruments, how could we possibly find them on our own? If Ruslan and the child were walking on gliders, the Vrizan would surely have taken notice.”

Bac’cul’s mind was racing. “Humans have fewer joints than us but thicker bones and heavier muscles. It is conceivable they could make more progress without gliders and on foot than Myssari or Vrizan.”

“Except that one of them is a juvenile, short and undeveloped.”

“Trueso.” Once again Bac’cul returned his gaze to the bleak, utterly flat landscape that surrounded them. “Then we are left with our original uncertainty: where are they?”

“Not in the belly of some indigenous predator, one hopes. If that is the case, then all our defensive posturing and all the belligerence of the Vrizan hold no more meaning than what can be found in a specimen cup of this all-pervasive muck.”