Barrington Bayley - The Great Hydration

“The Tlixix appear to think the apparatus you boast of really exists,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it does, after all. I, however, did not steal it.”

“Not you?” Hrityu challenged heatedly. “Who but you could possibly have a motive!”

“To that I have no answer,” shrugged the Crome. “For a moment there, I was afraid the Market Master would cancel the permission he has already given for our onslaught—”

“Already?” Kurwer gasped.

The Crome grinned mercilessly. “It seems that in the excitement you were not informed. Yes, already. We attack in thirty courses of the sun. You will recall that we entered a plea for your extermination. While that was not expressly approved, it was not forbidden either. That’s good enough for us.”

“The Tlixix almost never allow extermination! You would not dare! There would have to be a compelling reason!”

“Almost never?” taunted the Crome. “Well, let me see what examples come to mind. Were not the Sliss exterminated, not long ago?”

“They had shrunk to no more than a hundred in number! We Analane number thousands!”

“Yes, thousands who have been destroying the prickle-stalks on which alone the Crome can live!” The Crome’s tone had turned from haughtiness to indignation. “In another few turns of the sun it would be we who are extinct! There is your compelling reason, Analane! Your vile mould will do nothing to sustain us!”

With those words he turned his back on them and strode off.

Hrityu found that he was shivering.

“Did you hear that?” Kurwer said in a low voice. “The prickle-stalk campaign must have been more successful than we thought. They are on the verge of starvation!”

“Our aim was to reduce their numbers, not to wipe them out completely,” Hrityu pointed out mildly. “Their reaction is out of proportion.”

A Gaminte approached and handed over the flingers taken from them when they entered the Pavilion of Audience. Disconsolately they walked down the concourse.

“What shall we do?” Kurwer said. “We cannot return home with such colossal failure on our consciences.”

“We must continue to search for the radiator.” Hrityu paused. “Who were the strangers in the pavilion? I have never seen their like before. Their equipment looked interesting.”

“I do not understand what I saw there,” Kurwer admitted. “It appeared to me that they were swallowing water. But that cannot be so.”

“Their talk was strange. They spoke of coming from another world. How can there be another world?”

“No doubt they are liars, like the Crome.”

A voice came from Kurwer’s left. “A word with you, please, Analane.”

A humanoid had stepped into the concourse to accost them. They stared at him. His colour was green, but a lighter shade than that of the Crome. He was roughly the height of an Analane, and was just as slender, but his face had nothing of Analane softness. It was sharp, narrow-jawed, the eyes upward-slanting and silvery bright. The skin was mottled, reptilian fashion, even on the face. His headcrest was large, and was echoed by similar fanlike structures on his back.

His flinger was a flashy affair, ornamented with shining crystals.

“Perhaps I can be of help to you.”

“You are an Artaxa,” Hrityu murmured. They were a little-known tribe, not given to travel. He had seen one once before, long ago.

“Yes. And you seek a device you call a radiator.”

“News of our loss has travelled.”

“I knew of your machine earlier, before it disappeared.” The Artaxa’s eyes gleamed like polished metal. “I know a great deal.”

“But how—?”

For answer, the Artaxa did something peculiar. His ears, which up to now had been ordinary-looking, reshaped themselves into funnels which he extended outward from his skull, directing them this way and that.

“We of the Artaxa have exceptionally acute hearing, and can eavesdrop on private conversations even from a long way off. I was present in the Pavilion of Warfare on the day you met the representative of the Toureen.”

His ears flattened themselves again. “As I said, I can help you. But if we are to proceed further it must be on a basis of trust and confidence. Otherwise much harm will result.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of our radiator?” Hrityu demanded.

The Artaxa nodded.

“Then it must have been you—”

“Please.” The greenskin raised a hand. “If we are to talk, let it be somewhere more private. I suggest a ride into the desert.”

Hrityu considered the proposal. If the Artaxa was planning treachery, it was hard to see what he would gain by it.

He glanced at Kurwer, then said, “We shall take our vehicle. Come. To the park.”

The wheel machine went bucking and sliding over the dunes. Eventually the bright pavilion were out of sight.

Hrityu disengaged the inner and outer wheel and applied the brake. He and Kurwer turned to the Artaxa who sat in the back of the apartment. The other laid aside his flinger, in a gesture of peace.

“Allow me to give you my name. I am Karvass, of the Artaxa.”

Hrityu thought the circumstances for name exchanging unusual, to say the least. His crest bristled. “Do you ask for our names? Frankly I do not see the need.”

The Artaxa’s facial membranes dilated slightly. “As you wish. But remember, I did ask for trust—as I am trusting you, more than you realize.”

Kurwer leaned close to his companion. “Let us take him at his word.”

Hrityu was silent. Then he softened. “Very well. I am Hrityu, of the Analane.”

“And I,” echoed Kurwer, “am Kurwer, of the Analane.”

“Good.” The Artaxa relaxed. He nodded. “Yes, as you already have suspected, it as I who stole your radiator. I immediately recognised its value to my race, and I was determined to acquire it. At the same time, I had nothing of like value to offer in exchange.”

“And therefore you simply took it?” Kurwer exploded. “This is outrageous! The Tlixix will punish your tribe severely!”

Hrityu waved him quiet. “So you have our machine,” he said to the Artaxa coldly. “What is it you want with us?”

“I have examined the device. It appears to function as you claim—though without a partner I have not been able to test it thoroughly. It is the means by which it works that remains a mystery. I do not think our mechanics will be able to duplicate it. Therefore I need you.”

“You want our cooperation? Offering nothing in return?” Hrityu said incredulously.

“Not quite. I have a proposal to put to you. Let me ask you a question. Since arriving here you have had dealings with the Tlixix. How would you describe their treatment of you?”

“We can hardly be pleased with someone who consents to our extermination!” Hrityu grumbled bitterly. “We have met with nothing but injustice!”

“That is what emboldens me to reveal myself to you,” the Artaxa said. There was a grim satisfaction in his voice. “The Crome representative has been boasting everywhere of the edict he has obtained. What I propose is an alliance.”

“An alliance?” Hrityu repeated in puzzlement. “Against the Crome?”

“Not just against the Crome. Against the Tlixix!”

Both Analane stared at him in shock.

Karvass continued calmly: “Let me tell you something of my race. You know little, for we Artaxa are secretive. Most believe us to be few in number, and we encourage this belief. In fact, our tribe has increased to a size unprecedented since the Great Dehydration. There are nearly one hundred thousand of us. Not even the Tlixix know this.”

Kurwer shook his head. “How could such a huge tribe stay hidden from the Tlixix? They know everything.”