Алан Дин Фостер - Relic

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!”