“Interzone,” Dejerine said. “I take it you mean where the ranges of ortho- and T-life overlap?”
“What else?” Jill answered. “In a way, it covers the whole planet. The theroids incorporate a few T-microbes into their symbioses, and that alone is worth learning more about. But only in the South Valennen area do you get interaction between metazoans, or higher plants, or oddball things that we don’t yet know quite which what are.”
Dejerine blinked, then laughed. “You win.”
She grinned back. “Two distinct ecologies, neither able to exploit the other. At least not till the ortho-sophonts came along. The phoenix tree is valued for more than being hardwood. Once out of the interzone, that lumber doesn’t rot nohow. There’ve been attempts to raise it nearer home, but none succeeded. Likewise for a few more T-species, plus ortho-species and minerals—plenty reason for the Gathering to want to be present in Valennen.
“But otherwise, well, very limited interaction. Plants crowd rival plants out of soil and sunlight, and so restrict the scope of animals. Possibly lia is the main barrier to T-life spreading further than it has. Animals… no mutual nourishment, so as a rule the two kinds simply don’t bother each other.”
He startled her by obviously quoting: “What, never?”
“Hardly ever,” she warbled back, maybe startling him in turn.
“Actually,” she added, “what interaction does go on is co-operative, as far as we know—though we know itchingly little.” She combed fingers through a strand of hair. “Um-m-m… let me give you an example. I’ll change the names to those of Earth types, to help you keep ’em straight; and bear in mind, the real critters are small.” In a high-pitched singsong:
“See the ferocious tiger. See the fat, juicy antelope. Is the tiger going to jump on the antelope? No, the tiger is not going to jump on the antelope. The tiger does not think the antelope is fit to eat. But see the tiger watch the antelope. The tiger knows the antelope has very fine eyes and a very fine nose. See the antelope peer. See the antelope sniff. See the antelope gallop off. See the tiger follow. The antelope locates a herd of deer. The tiger can eat deer. The tiger does eat a deer. The antelope is a fink. See the leopard. Leopards like antelope steak. See the tiger chase away the leopard. The tiger is a goon. Children, this is called co-operation.”
Jill tossed off the rest of her brandy. Dejerine moved to pour her a refill. “After all that lecturing,” she said, “I suppose I should fetch me a beer… Aw, a shame, on top of this gorgeous stuff. Go ahead, thanks.”
“You certainly make your subject come alive,” he said, the faintest accent on the first word.
“Well, your turn. Tell me about places you’ve been.”
“If you will give me more songs later.”
“Let’s find songs we both know. Meanwhile, please do reminisce.” Jill looked again skyward. Caelestia had dropped out of view and the stars shone forth still keener. Wistfulness tugged at her. “So much wonder. Damn it, I haven’t got time to die.”
“Why have you never visited Earth?”
“Oh… I dunno. Seems as if everything interesting there—wait, yes, I realize they have natural extravagances left like the Grand Canyon, but Ishtar has them too—mainly, everything is man-made; and our data banks hold millions of pictures, recordings, what-not.”
“The best hologram isn’t the real thing, Jill. It isn’t the totality of, oh, the cathedral at Chartres… which besides beauty includes the fact that countless pilgrims for hundreds of years walked and knelt and slept on the selfsame stones under your feet.… And you can have fun on Earth, you know. A lively person like you—”
A chime sounded from the open door. Jill rose, “Phone,” she said. “ ’Scuse,” Who’d call at this hour? “Maybe an officer of Yuri’s, in need of him?”
The fluoropanel she switched on was harsh after the majestic dimness outside. The room leaped at her, comfortably shabby, slightly untidy, its plainness defiled by scarlet drapes on which she had painted gold swirls and by a fireburst feather-plant cloak from Great Iren. Other souvenirs included native tools and weapons hung on the walls among pictures, landscapes and portraits, she had done herself with camera or pencil. Printouts were shelved and piled around, both flimsies for recycling and permanents which she had liked sufficiently well to pay for.
The phone chimed anew. “ ‘Bong’ right back at you,” she grumbled, sat down before it, and tapped the accept plate.
Ian Sparling’s head sprang into the screen. He was haggard, the lines trenched in his long face, eyes burning blue-green out of hollowness. The gray-shot black hair was totally unkempt and no beardex could have touched his skin for two or three days.
Jill’s pulse stumbled and began to run. “Hi,” she said mechanically. “You look like outworn applesauce. What’s wrong?”
“I thought you should know.” His voice came hoarse. “Being as close to Larreka as you are.”
She caught the table edge and hung on.
“Oh, he’s safe,” Sparling told her, “But—Well. I’m calling from Sehala. We’ve been here arguing, pleading, trying to bargain, this past eight-day. No go. The assembly has voted to abandon Valennen. We couldn’t convince them the danger there is as bad as Larreka claims.” He hesitated. “Well, hell, I had to take his word for that myself. I don’t know from experience. And… not only did the Tamburu commandant declare we—the Gathering could absorb the loss and survive elsewhere, the Kalain’s boss did, too. Sent a courier clear from the Dalag to say his ground and naval forces are in control but could use whatever help they might get which is now tied up in less vital areas. Larreka doesn’t believe any legion will agree to join his Zera. The cause looks too lost.”
Rage leaped in Jill. “Those idiots! Couldn’t they investigate for themselves?”
“Not easy to do, especially when they’ve such growing demands on their attention right at home. I suppose I can try to talk a few key people into letting us fly them there for a look-around. If we can get a vehicle.” Sparling sounded dubious. “What gets you involved is Larreka. He’s taking this pretty hard. You could… encourage him, console him, whatever you gauge is best. He thinks the world of you.” His weary eyes dwelt on her image as if to add Larreka was not alone.
Tears stung. Jill must swallow before she could ask, “What’s he plan to do?”
“Head straight back. He’s already left. You can catch him at the Yakulen Ranch, though. He’ll stop off there to collect travel gear and say good-by.”
“I c-can fly him.”
“If our dear naval governor will release an aircraft of the right size. Ask him. It’d sure help. Larreka’s not simply got to take charge—he says the new vice commandant is overcautious—but he’s got to persuade his troops to stand fast.”
Jill nodded. A legion elected a chief by a rank-weighted three-fourths vote of its officers, and could depose him by the same. “Ian,” she half begged, “is it necessary? Does he really have to stay on? Won’t he be spending himself, his males, for nothing?”
“He says that’s the chance he must take. He’ll keep a capability of evacuating survivors, should worst come to worst. But he hopes to do more than harass the barbarians. He hopes he can draw them into fights that’ll show their real strength, their real intentions, before it’s too late; and this’ll get him his reinforcements. Sounds forlorn to me, but—” Sparling sighed. “Well, now you know, and I’d better report to God.”
“You called me first?” she blurted. “Thank you, thank you.”
He smiled the wry smile she had always liked. “You deserved it,” he said. “I’ll be home in two or three days, after tying up some loose ends here. Come see us. Meanwhile, daryesh tauli, Jill.” It meant both “fare you well” and “fare in love.” He was silent for an instant. “Good night.” The screen blanked.