“That was just the beginning. They had to turn those instruments to look at the sky, and deduce the existence of a universe beyond their homevorld and beyond their sun. And finally they had to acknowledge the importance of the stars, measure their distances, and build ships to travel to and explore them.
“They did this — all this — while we Lo’tfians sat around dreaming. We are the older race, but if they had not found our world and raised us to self-awareness and to understanding of the universe, we would be sitting there still, as animals.
“Compared to Cecropians, or to humans, Lo’tfians are nothing. Compared to Atvar H’sial, I am nothing. When her light shines, mine should not be seen. When she speaks, it is my honor to be the instrument that gives her thoughts to you.
“Do you hear me, Professor Darya Lang? It is my honor. Darya Lang?”
She had been listening — and listening hard. But she was beginning to hurt, and the computer-controlled IV was not ready to allow that. The pump had started again, a few seconds before.
She forced her eyes to remain open.
I am nothing! What a racial inferiority complex. But the Lo’tfians should not be allowed to be a slave race even if they wanted it. As soon as she could get to him, she would go and report it.
To him.
To whom?
Mad and misty blue eyes, but she could not recall his name. Was she afraid of him? Surely not.
She would report this to—
(blink).
CHAPTER 9
Sumnmertide minus twenty
“She’s not dead, and not dying. She’s healing. The correct Cecropian response to trauma and physical insult is unconsciousness.”
In the middle of Opal’s brief night, Julius Graves and Hans Rebka stood by the table that held Atvar H’sial’s motionless body. Part of one side of the dark-red carapace had been coated with a thick layer of gypsum and agglutinate, hardening to a gleaming white shell. The proboscis was pleated and secured in its chin pouch, while the antennas lay furled over the broad head. The whistle of air pumping through spiracles was barely audible.
“And it is amazingly effective by human standards,” Graves continued. “Recovery from an injury which does not kill a Cecropian outright is fast — two or three days, at most. And Darya Lang and J’merlia consider that Atvar H’sial is already recovered enough to renew a request for access to Quake.” He smiled, a death’s-head grin. “Not welcome news to Commander Perry, eh? Has he asked you to delay everything until after Summertide?”
Hans Rebka hid his surprise — tried to. He was becoming used to the feeling that Julius Graves possessed limitless knowledge of every species in the spiral arm. After all, the mnemonic twin had been created for exactly that purpose, and from the moment that they had arrived at the scene of the crash Steven Graves had dictated the treatment for Atvar H’sial’s injuries: the shell must be sealed, the legs taped, the broken wing case removed entirely — it would regenerate — and the crushed antenna and yellow auditory horns left to heal themselves.
But it was harder to accept Graves’s knowledge and understanding of humans.
It occurred to Rebka that he and Julius Graves should switch jobs. If anyone could find out what had changed Max Perry from an up-and-coming leader to a career drop-out and impenetrable mental mystery, Graves could do it. Whereas Rebka was the man who could explore the surface of Quake and find the Carmel twins, no matter where they tried to hide.
“And your own views, Captain,” Graves went on. “You have been to Quake. Should Darya Lang and Atvar H’sial be permitted to go there once they have recovered? Or should they be refused access?”
That was exactly what Rebka had been asking himself. It was left unsaid that Graves intended to go to Quake, no matter who opposed him. Perry would accompany him, as his guide. And although Rebka had said nothing, he intended to go, too. His job required it, and anyway Max Perry was biased and unreliable on anything to do with Quake. But what about the others?
He travels fastest who travels alone.
“I’m opposed to the idea. The more people, the more dangerous, no matter what specialized knowledge they bring along. And that applies to Cecropians as well as humans.”
Or even more so for Cecropians. He stared down at the unconscious alien, fought off a shiver, and walked away toward the door of the building.
He had no trouble with J’merlia, with his downtrodden look and pleading yellow eyes. But it made him uncomfortable just looking at Atvar H’sial. And he considered himself an educated, reasonable man. There was some hidden quality to the aliens that he found hard to tolerate.
“Cecropians still make you uneasy, Captain.” It was Graves, following him to the door and reading his mind again — making a statement, not asking a question.
“I guess they do. Don’t worry, I’ll get used to them.”
He would — slowly. But it was hard going. The miracle was that Cecropians and humans had not embarked on total war when the two species had first encountered each other.
And they would have, Rebka’s inner voice assured him, if they could have found anything worth fighting about. Cecropians looked like demons. If they had not sought planets around red dwarf stars, while humans were looking for Sol analogs, the two would have encountered each other in the outward crawl. But the unmanned probes and the slow Arks of both species had been targeted for quite different stellar types, and they had missed each other for a thousand years. By the time humans discovered the Bose Drive and found the Cecropians already using the same Network through the spiral arm, both species had had experience with other alien organisms; enough to allow them to coexist with other clades whose needs were for stellar environments so different from their own, even if they could not be viscerally comfortable.
“Vertebrate chauvinism is all too common.” Graves fell into step at his side. He was silent for another moment; then he giggled. “Yet according to Steven — who says that he speaks as someone who lacks both a backbone and an exoskeleton — we should think of ourselves as the outsiders. Of the four thousand two hundred and nine worlds known to possess life, Steven says that internal skeletons have developed on only nine hundred and eighty-six. Whereas arthropod invertebrates thrive on three thousand three hundred and eleven. In a galactic popularity contest, Atvar H’sial, J’merlia, or any other arthropod would beat you, me, or Commander Perry hands down. And even, if I dare say it, your Professor Lang.”
Rebka started to walk faster. It would serve no purpose to point out to Julius Graves that Steven was on the way to becoming a bore. It was all right to know everything in the universe — but did he have to tell it?
Rebka was not willing to admit the real cause of his irritation. He hated being with someone who knew far more than he did, but worse still he hated to be with a man who saw through him with no effort at all. No one was supposed to know that he had a soft spot for Lang. Damn it, he had only realized it himself when he had pulled her out of the crashed aircar. She was something more than a nuisance, more than an unwanted addition to his problems with Quake and Max Perry.
Why had she come, to make life more complicated? It was obvious that she was out of her depth on Opal, a scientist who should have stayed quietly in her lab to do her research. They would have to look after her. He would have to look after her. And the best way to do that was to keep her on Opal when he went to Quake.
The Level Five storm was over, and there was a rare break in Opal’s night clouds. It was near midnight, but not dark. Amaranth had been swinging in on the final stages of its slow approach to Mandel. It was high in the sky, big enough to show a glowing disk of bright orange. In two more days, the dwarf companion would begin to cast shadows.