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  “Do they have sexual taboos?”

  “Your line of questioning strikes me as peculiar, elder.”

  “They cook their meat by burning it over an open fire?”

  “Their cooking facilities were restricted. Maybe they require the additional carbon. Or it might be purely a ritual thing. I never asked.”

  “Is their vision comparable to ours? They utilize only those two simple single-lensed eyes.”

  “It seems to be. They can see much farther, I think, but not as well up close or in the dark.”

  Then came the voice of the military observer, speaking for the first time, in a soft whistle. “They took energy rifles from two of the guards.”

  “Something I meant to ask,” Ryo said quickly. “Was anyone injured during their escape?”

  “Injured, yes, but fortunately not killed. As you’ve noticed, they are physically more massive than we. Their balance is unexpectedly good.”

  “Yes, I noticed that right away,” Ryo admitted.

  “They are not as vulnerable to a severe blow as we are,” the military elder went on, “but they are far more susceptible to damage from cuts and scrapes. Their thin exoderm is incredibly fragile. However, if it is torn it heals far more rapidly than a chiton break. There are pluses and minuses to such a structure.”

  “Beauty is not one of the pluses,” commented one of the two younger scientists, adding a gesture of third-degree disgust.

  “The two guards,” the tenth-level officer continued, “were merely stunned during the escape, when their rifles were taken. The planning was admirable. They set off two explosions—”

  “We heard them both,” Wuu said.

  “They were set to create a diversion. This was accomplished. Those who misinterpreted the situation have already been disciplined. The creatures took, as I said, two energy rifles, yet did not use them.” He shifted in his saddle, putting a little urgency into his tone. “You said you observed them in use?”

  “Yes,” Ryo replied. “I’m sure they studied the weapons around them before settling on the rifles. Despite having only two arms and hands, they seemed to manage quite well. I have no doubt that had the circumstances required it, they could have employed them against soldiers as efficiently as they did against game.”

  The officer did not seem surprised at this, simply entered it into his recorder. “Did they talk at all about their home world or about their vessels?”

  “Nothing about their planet of origin save that it was colder than Hivehom seemed to be. Little about their ship except that the principles behind its method of propulsion seemed similar to ours. Neither of them is an engineer.”

  “Anything about weapons, military strength, or posture?”

  Ryo had been waiting for that question from the time the officer had taken his saddle. Nevertheless, he was surprised at the resentment he felt when it was finally asked.

  “Nothing whatsoever. They are explorers. Their sole concern and principal subject of conversation was survival. Military matters were not mentioned.”

  The officer mumbled something half audible. “… couldn’t expect much …” Then louder, “For your own information, we found nothing during our study of their ship to hint they are especially advanced militarily. What we have been able to glean of their social structure indicates they are not, for example, organized in a paramilitary society like the AAnn.”

  “I could have told you that,” Ryo said confidently.

  “However, they display certain worrisome characteristics of both social and individual temperament.”

  “I don’t understand, elder.” Ryo was uncertain how to interpret the officer’s last statement. “I’ve already told you that they thought we were the ones who’d attacked them. They are more than ready—I would even say anxious—to form an alliance with us against the AAnn. This despite unfortunate differences of shape. They find us only slightly less disconcerting physically than we find them.”

  “That is difficult to believe,” the second young researcher murmured.

  One of the elders scolded him. “That is not a scientific attitude, Drin.”

  “I know it’s not, but I cannot so easily wipe out thousands of years of mental conditioning. They are mammals, no matter how similar their minds might be. Soft of exterior and flexible of form. My insides turn whenever I have to look at them.” He swiveled to eye Ryo.

  “I understand you actually engaged in physical contact with them, even to the point of extending formal farewells.”

  “They are not at all that repulsive,” Ryo insisted. “It’s merely a matter of seeing them as people. As I’ve mentioned, they feel the same way about the tiny arthropods on their own worlds. We are each the stuff of the other’s nightmares. These are primitive attitudes that both races must fight to overcome. There is no logic to them.”

  “All of which I understand,” Drin admitted without offense. “Still, thousands of years of nightmare … We are professionals here, used to dealing with the incredible and outré.” He surveyed his colleagues. “How do you think the populace will react to the existence of these beings? And if what you say is true,” he said to Ryo, “these monsters will have similar problems on their own world of Earth.”

  “Odd,” one of the elders commented, “that they should name their home planet after the ground when in fact they live above it, exposed to the open sky—or so you tell us.” He turned to Ryo.

  “There are many such fascinations awaiting us,” Ryo told her confidently, “as soon as formal contact is opened.” The words of the officer returned to haunt him. “You said certain characteristics worried you. What characteristics?”

  Silence reigned in the chamber. Ryo studied his questioners curiously. “They are allies, you know. Or will be soon.”

  More silence. Several of the scientists looked away. The others did not.

  “We can never let them leave here, of course,” one of the elders said finally. “Surely you realize that.”

  “I do not. That’s absurd. How do we open negotiations with them if they are not allowed to return home to begin discussions and make introductions.?”

  “There will be no introductions,” the military observer remarked quietly. “Not for a long time. Not with this group.”

  “But … these are the people who can make us so strong the AAnn will not dare prowl among our colonies. Their presence here is indication enough they are a technologically advanced race.”

  “Of that we never had the least doubt,” the officer informed him. “That is one of the things that troubles us.”

  “You have to let them go. It’s indecent to keep imprisoned those who’ve done you no harm. I’ve talked with them—two of them, anyway. I know them. They are ready to be friends.”

  “So they have told you,” said the elders. “Are you a qualified xenopsych then, that you can positively interpret their motives?”

  “They were telling me the truth.” Ryo struggled to contain his anger and frustration. What was wrong with these elders? At least two of them wore the black star of Eint. Did that stand for nothing here? “They had no reason to lie to me.”

  “No reason by your reasoning, perhaps, but what of their own?”

  “I spent quarter months with them, in a difficult survival situation. Once communication was opened they were no more than cautious toward me. There was no continuing hostility. After a while there was honest friendship. So much so that they allowed me to persuade them to return.”

  “We are aware of that,” Drin said, “and very grateful to you for doing so. Not only was their escape scientifically disruptive, but had you somehow made your way south into more populated regions, your companions could have precipitated a panic.”

  “I still don’t see what you’re all so afraid of.”

  “We’ve had a chance to study them for some time, in a closed environment,” the elder spokesman said. “The results,” he hesitated significantly, “do not hold out much promise for interspecies cooperation.
”

  The military observer was more direct. “When they were first settled here and placed under continuous observation, it was immediately evident their social relationships are—well, disturbing.”

  “What would you expect,” Ryo argued. “They thought you were the ones who’d attacked their ship.”

  The officer made a gesture of denial. “We treated them kindly, realizing they might not be allies of the AAnn. It was their reaction to one another that was so unexpected, not their reaction toward us.” His tone filled with remembered amazement.

  “They fought among themselves. It’s still hard to believe. Here they were, twelve aliens trapped by possibly hostile creatures, yet their anger was vented not so much toward us as each other. Though we could not understand their language, battering a companion into unconsciousness can only be interpreted in one way.

  “One actually damaged a companion so badly that it required medical treatment. When that was provided their attitude toward us softened visibly, but they continued to act in an unrelentingly hostile manner toward one another.

  “It is the opinion of the behavioral psychs who have had them under surveillance that their actions suggest a racial paranoia of heretofore unimagined dimensions. Compared to these creatures, the AAnn are models of harmonious cooperation. Do we really want to ally ourselves closely with such a race?”

  “But they showed no such tendencies with me,” Ryo said, bewildered.

  “It is a fact that certain mammals act far differently in clusters than they do when isolated,” Drin said somberly. “They are rather like subcritical fission masses—harmless when kept apart, explosive when brought together. We do not know what the mental ‘critical mass’ of these creatures might be, but I would not like to be around when it is reached.”

  “It is the considered opinion of the xenospsych staff that the entire race may be collectively psychotic,” the elder spokesman said.

  “There may be other explanations,” Ryo protested. “The pressure they’ve been under as prisoners, their confinement underground when they prefer the surface …”

  Drin was making a gesture of negativity. “We’ve allowed for that. The signs are still there.”

  “You see now,” the officer said gently, “why we cannot possibly let them go. They now know the location of Hivehom. These are a sophisticated, space-traversing folk. This group is composed of specialists in exploration. Surely some of them would be able to find their way back here. We cannot possibly let so dangerous and volatile a race return home knowing the location of our mother world while we know nothing of theirs. They destroyed all their records and charts during the AAnn attack, you see. Further evidence of their paranoia.”

  “No more so than you’ve just admitted to,” Ryo noted.

  “Perhaps.” The officer was not offended.

  “But I tell you, gentlesirs, that I know these people.”

  “You know two of them,” Drin pointed out. “That is hardly sufficient evidence by which to classify an entire race.”

  “Maybe not. I’m no statistician. But I know true friendship when it is offered to me, and I have received that from two of these beings. I can probably gain the confidence of the rest of them if you’ll give me some freedom with them.”

  “I would hope so,” the elder spokesman said. “We earnestly desire your help, Ryozenzuzex. Your companion,” and he indicated Wuu, “has explained your history.”

  “Better to provide voluntarily what will become known anyway,” the poet said. Ryo saw no reason to argue that.

  “We can notify your family and clan,” the elder continued. “It will be explained that you are working on a government project of great importance. No lies will be told. We will merely exercise judicious concealment. They should be quite satisfied. Meanwhile, you will be given as free an antenna as possible to work among these creatures.”

  “Then why not let me tell them they can return home?” Ryo wondered.

  “I am interested in a species of carnivore called the produbia,” one of the elders said. “It lives in the jungles of Colophon. While I am fascinated by its eating habits I have no desire to explore its method of digestion from the inside. We will remain friendly with these creatures, but cautious.”

  “I would rather,” the military observer interrupted, “risk the loss of a potential new ally than expose Hivehom to the attentions of a race that cannot even control its most primitive instincts.”

  Ryo’s initial reaction to these comments was barely controlled fury. This gave way gradually to rationalization. The attitude of the government, as represented by the six questioners in the chamber, was dreadfully wrongheaded. But there was nothing he, Ryo, could do about it. The aliens would never be allowed to leave.

  That would mean that the Thranx would not gain the benefits of interspecies cooperation. Neither would the monsters. As to the business about their being subject to racial paranoia and homicidal tendencies, he simply refused to believe it. The xenopsychs were misinterpreting their data. Machines again, he thought bitterly. Statistics.

  No readout would ever convince him that the time he’d spent in the wilderness with Bonnie and Loo had been filled with deceiving data. But for now all he could do was be patient and try to make friends with their associates.

  “Yes, I’ll help you. It’s my duty, of course.”

  “We knew that would be your reaction.” The elder spokesman was most gratified as he checked his chronometer. “I had not realized we’d been so long. We do not wish to strain you.”

  “I am fine,” Ryo admitted honestly.

  “No. Enough for now,” one of the other elders said. “We can reconvene tomorrow.”

  “I need to meet the other monsters,” Ryo said.

  “Of course. As soon as you wish,” Drin told him. “Quarters have been prepared for you. You will have all the assistance you need. I envy you. I too would like to be able to study these creatures and interact with them at first hand. For now, however, we have to rely on you to interpret.”

  Not only because I can communicate with them so well, but because I’m the only one they trust, Ryo thought bitterly.

  • • •

  That evening, Wuu discovered him resting on his sleeping lounge in front of a viewer. The poet had been working hard and had filled nearly a whole chip with prepoetry. His pleasure was dampened by something in Ryo’s attitude. He’d come to know the young agronomist quite well during their travels and he was concerned about him. He’d been subjected to unusual pressures for one of barely mid-age and those pressures would intensify in the months to come.

  “Greetings, Wuu.” Ryo looked over as he switched off the viewer. “How is your composing coming?”

  “Extraordinarily well. The guild will be well pleased. And what of you, my young friend? I worry about you. You have been thrown into a situation few are prepared to cope with.”

  “I seem to thrive on it,” Ryo replied, “although at first contact I think I reacted much as a larva would.”

  The poet slid onto a saddle opposite the lounge and sighed deeply, the air whistling out his spicules in a long gasp. “I will remain if you wish me to, although they have no need of me here.”

  “I would like that. I need someone familiar nearby, for a while, at least.”

  “That is understandable. These scientists are a little better than bureaucrats, but not much. I suppose the nature of their positions does not encourage individualistic thought.”

  “It certainly doesn’t,” Ryo agreed. “For example, anyone with a modicum of hive sense would see that we have to let these people return to their home world so that formal exchanges between us may begin. Don’t you agree?”

  The old poet stared back at him. “Certainly not, and it’s about time you started purging your own head of such addled notions. They are the major reason I worry about you.”

  For a moment Ryo simply could not reply. “But … these will become our allies, our friends against the AAnn.”

&n
bsp; “Did you not hear the findings of the researchers, the opinion of that officer?” Wuu asked. “As an individualist, I can empathize somewhat with these creatures. Naturally they would like to return home. I would want the same were I in their position, I would also understand our position.” He leaned out of the saddle and added a gesture of fourth-degree emphasis. “The safety of our entire race is at stake here, Ryo. These are a powerful and dangerous people.”

  “I’m sure the AAnn will think so.”

  “Are you such a master diplomat?” Wuu snapped. “Are you then completely confident they would ally themselves with us because of a single incident involving one ship and its crew?”

  “There is always some risk in such a situation,” Ryo admitted, “but it must be chanced. We cannot hide ourselves from them forever. Eventually contact will be established. If we take the initiative now we can avoid a potentially disastrous misunderstanding. Future contacts might not begin so auspiciously.

  “And what of the AAnn? They are as masterful at diplomacy as they are at slaughter. What if they were to realize their error in attacking this first ship and contact these people before us and instead of attacking them again, forge an alliance with them against us? What would be our position then?”

  “All unlikely and all a problem for the future,” Wuu replied, though it was obvious the scenario Ryo presented concerned him. “For all we know they may lie on the other side of the galaxy and we may never encounter them again. The universe, my boy, is vast.”

  “If, as the military observer says, their ship’s propulsive system is not very different from ours then they cannot dwell very far, in interstellar terms, from Hivehom.”

  “We know nothing of their life spans,” the poet pointed out. “Indeed, we still know little about them. That ignorance is yet another reason why we cannot let them leave.”

  “Such a position is morally indefensible,” Ryo insisted.

  “I beg to differ with you, my earnest young friend. It is eminently defensible, from a moral as well as military standpoint. You would feel differently if you had seen them fighting among themselves, much as our distant ancestors used to do. A group of Thranx placed in a similar position would be mutually supportive and calm, not hysterical and violently combative.” He made a gesture of disbelief. “It is quite unbelievable. They possess dominant-internal traits they are not even aware of. Such ritualized combat is a part of their basic nature. How could we possibly be allies? Mentally as well as physically we are nothing alike.”