Алан Дин Фостер - Relic

Shock replaced bewilderment. “Why on… Earth”—he had to smile at the irony inherent in his words—“would you want to know anything about the Aura Malignance? Even if I knew something about it, the details would be of no use to you. While I personally don’t know much beyond the fact that it destroyed my civilization and my species, I do know that the active vector affected only human beings. Not other mammals, not even close relatives like lesser primates. Only Homo sapiens. It would be useless to you.”

The elongated head turned directly toward the specimen. “You underestimate the capabilities of Vrizan science. Our biologists are very competent. A variant that could be held in reserve for use only as a final defensive weapon would be a potent deterrent against any threat to my species. Since we are a more mature race than humankind, such a development would be engineered so that it could pose no threat to us.”

Which meant, Ruslan realized, that any genetic manipulation of the Aura Malignance would be targeted against possible adversaries of the Vrizan. The Myssari, for example.

“I’m sure you have highly skilled experts in the field of biological warfare.” On arrival at the settlement the peaceful surroundings had lulled him into relaxing. That was gone now, the first stirrings of tranquility purged by Abinahhs’s alarming words. “Whatever you may think of us, it can’t be any worse than what we thought of ourselves. Arrogance was the end of humanity, not the plague.”

“Then we will be safe and all will be well.” Abinahhs was quietly reassuring. “The Vrizan are not arrogant.” Though the small tooth-lined mouth twisted slightly, Ruslan was not confident enough to call it a smile. “Loud at times, perhaps. Dynamic certainly. But not arrogant. Particularly dangerous research is carried out on quarantined artificial stations or otherwise uninhabited moons. In weapons research, isolation is the key to safety. Your kind forgot that.”

It was an observation with which Ruslan did not feel qualified to quarrel.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t help you reconstruct the Aura Malignance. Before society collapsed on my homeworld of Seraboth, I was a mid-level administrator. I’m only special genetically.” He touched the fingers of his left hand to the side of his head. “Up here I’m unremittingly ordinary.” Once again he had to decide on which of the Vrizan’s widely spaced eyes to focus. “You can imprison me, torture me, it doesn’t matter: I can’t give up information I don’t possess.”

Both of the Vrizan’s eyes rolled upward in their highly flexible sockets as Abinahhs’s tone wavered. “You think us so much less civilized than the Myssari that we would resort to such methods? I do not know whether to feel hurt or sadness.”

“The Myssari didn’t abduct me from Seraboth.”

The alien eyes returned to him. “It would have been preferred that you change your living arrangements voluntarily. I can assure you that this forced repositioning was not done lightly. In the end the desperate need of the Integument for a human’s insight into the history of your kind overrode all other considerations. Any possible knowledge of the workings of the great plague you might have possessed aside.”

Ruslan nodded sagely. “And if I refuse to cooperate in your researches into the history of my kind, what then? Will my refusal override all other considerations and ‘such methods’ of persuasion then come into play?”

Abinahhs was on the verge of replying when the ground shook. The decorative waterfall ceased flowing into the ornamental pool. Dust fell in slow motion from the ceiling as a shadow momentarily dimmed the illumination in the room. As light was restored the Vrizan replied to a comment in his own language that briefly sounded from an unseen source. Initially shaken, Ruslan now relaxed and allowed himself a slight smile.

“I don’t know who you’re talking to but I can guess. My friends have arrived.”

Speaking anew in Myssarian, a plainly disturbed Abinahhs stared at him. A second concussion rattled the chamber. “It is not possible for them to have found you so soon. All electronic emissions from the gear you carry are systematically blocked.”

Leaning back in the sandstone-hued but responsive seat, Ruslan shrugged. “I don’t know how they’ve done it either, and damn quick, too.” His smile widened. “The Vrizan aren’t the only ones who can boast of advanced technologies.”

With neither the Vrizan settlers and scientists nor the recent Myssari arrivals prepared for a military encounter, both sides were limited to deploying small arms intended only to repel dangerous terrestrial lifeforms. Escorted out of the research complex and onto the surface, Ruslan found himself wishing for a club, or better yet a spear. The nexus of a potential conflict, he was the only one who was defenseless.

In the center of the settlement’s scientific station, an artesian well tapped by the settlers supplied a rotating series of free-floating tubes. Water leaped from one suspended, brightly colored tube to another, arcs of liquid soaring through the air like wingless flying fish. He blinked at the brightness of sunlight that was harsher here than at the landing site chosen by the Myssari. How had they located him if, as an abashed Abinahhs claimed, the broadcast from his locator unit had been smothered?

The composure he had successfully maintained ever since his capture was shaken by the sight of Cherpa among the grim-faced Myssari who had come for him.

“Bogo!” She had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the harmonious rush of flying water. “Have they hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Brightly tinted, irregularly shaped hydrothermic tiles beneath his feet helped to cool the air around him. He looked to his left. Abinahhs was not armed, but the several dozen Vrizan who accompanied him were.

He wondered why they had brought him out of the underground reception room when they could have rushed him to some hidden cell. Then he realized that if the Myssari had managed to track him down so far from their landing site, they would likely have no trouble locating him within this single settlement. By bringing him out and showing that he was safe and unharmed, the Vrizan were being preemptive in defense of their actions. Justifying them, however, would require circumlocutions of logic he doubted would satisfy the Myssari. His friends would want him back. He smiled to himself. Even if they were for some reason amenable to a loan of some kind, a furious Cherpa was not going to permit it. One of the Myssari—through the intense sunlight it looked like Cor’rin—had to keep putting all three hands on the enraged young woman’s right forearm to keep her from drawing her sidearm.

“How did you find me?” he called out. The Myssari expedition’s second-in-command, an unusually tall and slender intermet named Jih’hune, stepped forward.

“It is a matter of some sensitivity and therefore questionable as to whether or not I am authorized to provide an explanation.”

Ruslan stared back. “Are you afraid of exposing something to the Vrizan?” Beside him, Abinahhs rippled an arm.

Jih’hune hesitated, then came to a decision on his own. “The sensitivity to which I refer involves you personally. It is not a question of technological exclusion. I was not instructed that you not be told. Merely that the information not be volunteered.”

“You’re not volunteering,” Ruslan snapped. “I’m asking.”

The intermet’s discomfort was increasing proportionate to the number of armed Vrizan who continued to arrive, but the group of tightly packed Myssari held their ground.

“When you were found on Seraboth, it was instantly recognized that Myssari science had acquired an invaluable asset. One my people would be distressed to lose.”