“That is a correct conclusion.”
“And it doesn’t matter how many humans and Cecropians fight it out, does it? You were quite happy to leave us to tackle fourteen Zardalu, even though there were only a handful of humans, and a couple of aliens.”
“In our experience, the number of entities is rarely the deciding factor.”
“Fair enough. So the selection could be done just as well if there was only one of each — one human, and one Cecropian?”
“That is wholly reasonable.”
“All right, then. So what’s the point of keeping this whole crazy roster? Let the rest go — and keep just two of us. Me and Atvar H’sial. We’ll fight it out between us.”
“No.” Graves was shaking his head violently. “That is a sacrifice that I will not ask of anyone. To leave you here, while the rest of us return to safety, it would be—”
“Hey, what do you mean, safety? Goin’ back is different for me and At than for the rest of you. Look what happens to us when we get there. We’re charged with serious crimes the minute we hit civilization, and next thing you know we’re jailed or brain-wiped. Not much fun in that.
“I am the person who brought those charges.” Graves’s skeletal face bore an expression of anguish. “I will petition to have them dropped. After what you and Atvar H’sial did, to save us from the Zardalu—”
“You can petition, sure you can. Maybe that’ll get us off the hook. But maybe it won’t. Seems to me, At and yours truly ain’t much worse off here than we are there. For the rest of you, it’s a different story. You get to go back home, and write your nice little reports on everything that happened. Chase the Zardalu, too, if there’s time left over and they didn’t fly ass-over-tentacle up their own wazoo. But me.” He shrugged.
The flower head was nodding. “Your internal disputes are not germane to my decision. However, the proposal you make is acceptable. If one human and one Cecropian remain to complete the selection process, the rest may return to the spiral arm. It can be to your most recent departure point, or to any other place of your choosing. If you wish it, and if I can ascertain it, your destination can even be the final arrival point of the Zardalu — assuming that location is able to support life.”
“No, thanks.” Rebka cut off discussion, just as Graves was about to start up again. “We have to warn other people before we start chasing. We’ll go back to somewhere safe.”
He turned to Louis Nenda. “As for you… I don’t usually find it hard to know what to say. But you’ve got me this time. All I can think of is, thanks — from all of us. And pass that thank-you on to Atvar H’sial.”
Nenda grinned. “I will, in a minute. First I’ve got to explain to At what she just volunteered for.”
Graves stared at him pop-eyed. “You are joking, aren’t you? Atvar H’sial already gave her approval for your proposal.”
“Sure. Sure I’m joking.” Nenda was turning casually away. “Don’t worry about it. No problem.”
But Kallik was stepping forward. “So it is settled, then. The rest will return. And Atvar H’sial, Louis Nenda, and their loyal servants, Kallik and J’merlia, will remain.”
“Whoa, now.” Nenda held up his hand. “I never said that.” He looked at Speaker-Between and Hans Rebka. “If you don’t mind, At and I and J’merlia and Kallik need a few words in private. Five minutes?”
He ushered the other three out of the chamber at once, not waiting for a nod of assent.
“You see, Kallik.” His voice was oddly gentle as they came to a smaller room, out of earshot of the others. “You have to understand the situation. Things are different now. Not like what they was, back in the good old days before we went to Quake. They’ve changed. And you’ve changed, you and J’merlia. I’ve been translating for Atvar H’sial as we go, and she agrees with me completely. It wouldn’t be right for you to be slaves anymore — either of you.”
“But Master Nenda, that is what we want! J’merlia and I, we followed you from Opal, only that we might be with you and serve you again.”
“I know. Don’t think we don’t appreciate that, me and At.” Nenda had tears in his eyes. “But it wouldn’t work out, Kallik. Not now. You’ve been deciding your own actions ever since we left you behind on Quake. You’ve been thinking for yourselves, doing for yourselves. You’ve tasted independence. You’ve earned independence.”
“But we do not want independence!” J’merlia’s voice rose to a mournful wail. “Even though Atvar H’sial agrees with you, this should not be. It must not be.”
“See? That makes my argument exactly.” Nenda reached out to pat J’merlia’s narrow thorax. “Listen to yourself! Atvar H’sial says what she wants you to do — an’ you start arguing with her. Would you have done that two months ago?”
“Never!” J’merlia held up a claw to cover his compound eyes, appalled at his own temerity. “Argue with Atvar H’sial? Never. Master Nenda, with my most humble apologies and sincere regrets—”
“Stow it, J’merlia. You’ve proved the point. You and Kallik go on back, and start helping to run the spiral arm. You’re as qualified as any species. I’ve known that for a long time.”
“But we don’t want to help to run the spiral arm!”
“Who does? That’s what humans call the Smart Bugs’ Burden. You gotta go back there and carry it, even though you don’t want to. Otherwise, it will be the Ditrons who’ll have to organize things.”
“Master Nenda, please say that you are joking! The Ditrons, why they have less brains than — than some of the—”
“Before you put your foot in it real bad, J’merlia, I’ll say yeah, I was joking. But not about the fact that you and Kallik have to go back. For one thing, Kallik’s the only intelligent being in the spiral arm who’s actually talked to Zardalu. That might be important.”
J’merlia crawled forward and placed his head close to Atvar H’sial’s hind limbs. “Master Nenda, I hear you. But I do not want to leave. Atvar H’sial is my dominatrix, and has been since I was first postlarval.”
“Don’t gimme that—”
“Allow me, Louis, if you will.” The pheromonal message from Atvar H’sial carried a glint of dry humor. “With all respect, violent action is your forte, not reasoned persuasion.” The towering Cecropian crouched low to the floor and brought her smooth blind head close to J’merlia. “Let us reason together, my J’merlia. Would you agree with me when I say that any intelligent being either is a slave, or is not a slave? That those two conditions are the only two logical possibilities?”
“Of course.” J’merlia, once the slave-translator for Atvar H’sial, caught every nuance of meaning in her chemical message. He shivered without knowing why, sensing already that his cause was lost.
“Now you and Kallik,” Atvar H’sial continued. “You are both intelligent beings, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Therefore either you are slaves, or you are not slaves. Agreed?”
“That is true.”
“And if you are not slaves, then it is inappropriate for you to pretend that you are, by stating that you must remain here to serve me and Louis Nenda. You should go back to the spiral arm with the others and begin to live the life of free beings. A nonslave should not mimic a slave. True?”