Kel’les was only partially mollified. “Bac’cul and Cor’rin are beside themselves, as was I. This might once have been a civilized world but it is a dangerous place now. You could have been killed.”
“Twice,” Ruslan agreed without hesitation. Both Myssari eyed him uncertainly.
“Would you care to explain the specific numerality of your response?” his friend inquired.
Turning, Ruslan pointed at the tunnel of broken vegetation that now extended back through the wood. “I was on my way back to base when something big and knobby and full of teeth tried to make a meal of me. I can’t be certain, but I think it must have been following me for some time. I probably had less than a minute to live when this funny-shaped specter arrived and shot it twice. Didn’t kill it, I don’t think, but drove it off. The shooter admitted he shot only to protect himself, not to save me. He was about to shoot me, too.”
Kel’les indicated his incomprehension. “Why did he not?”
“I’m not sure.” Ruslan thought back to the confrontation. Though it felt as if the entire episode had taken place hours ago, only minutes had passed. In his mind’s eye he could still see the alien standing before him, weapon upraised, pondering how to proceed. “You arrived before he could come to a considered decision, I think.” A thin, humorless smile creased his face. “Maybe he’s a conservationist, like you. Maybe he thought that if he shot me, you’d pursue him. Maybe he simply enjoyed our brief conversation.”
San’dwil’s outrage was barely constrained. “We will find out who is responsible. Someone out operating on their own, without official permission. Whoever it is should be commended for saving your life, but at the same time…”
Realizing the confusion, Ruslan hastened to clarify. “It wasn’t a Myssari.”
Kel’les’s tone was sufficient to convey his puzzlement. “Not Myssari? How can you be certain?”
Ruslan turned to his friend. “I suppose it could have been Myssari. As long as it was an underweight, out-of-shape, multiple-amputee Myssari with a serious cephalic condition and terrible grammar.”
San’dwil was not amused. “Describe it. Leave out no detail.”
The human nodded tersely. “My recollection won’t be perfect. I remember the weapon he kept pointed at me better than anything else.”
“Describe that as well.”
San’dwil and Kel’les listened silently while Ruslan recounted the encounter. When he had finished, it was his minder who spoke first.
“A Vrizan!” The intermet’s shock was unconfined.
San’dwil’s tone was grim. “A scout. Sent to spy on our work here.”
“It will be better if you do not tell your…” Ruslan remembered the alien’s words. “I should not be here.” On reflection and mindful of San’dwil’s observation, he was more surprised than ever that the intruder had not shot him on the spot.
“Why would anyone want to spy on a base engaged in xenoarcheology?”
Turning back toward the camp, the commander allowed himself to fully exhale. “Come away from this dark and dangerous place and I will explain things to you.” He glanced at Kel’les. “Are you also ignorant of the relevant facts?”
The minder glanced sharply at Ruslan, then back at the commander. “My companions and I were given a realistic overview, but it is reasonable to assume certain details were missed.”
“Then it will be useful for you to listen as well.”
Around them the armed Myssari continued to spread out. Searching for the intruding Vrizan, Ruslan told himself as he stepped over a root rising a thumb’s length above the ground and running perfectly parallel to it. He hoped that if they found anything it would be only the alien scout and not the enraged, wounded carnivore.
“In the absence of any other nearby intelligences,” San’dwil was saying, “this section of the galactic arm was once dominated entirely by your kind. That you warred among yourselves is a concept so alien to our culture that our xenosociologists are still trying to unravel its reality. Eventually this constant interspecies fighting led to the development of the Aura Malignance and the consequent extermination of your species.” He paused, staring at Ruslan. “Near extermination,” he corrected himself.
They were through the worst of the brush now and back among the clean, disinfected confines of the camp. Espying the returnees, several Myssari gestured in their direction. Ruslan knew they were not pointing at his companions. He had both upset and inconvenienced his hosts and was feeling increasingly bad about it.
“I know all that.”
“Now that human civilization has gone,” San’dwil continued, “this quadrant of the galaxy offers many uninhabited worlds that are hospitable to other species. I naturally include the Myssari among them.”
“Naturally.” Ruslan’s careful monotone carried no accusations.
“The Vrizan are particularly competitive and highly expansionist. There are other species interested in the old worlds of humankind as well. The Combine has laid its claim to Treth. So have the Vrizan. There will be debate, discussion, and most probably diatribe. Eventually the matter will be settled. The Combine may acquire rights to Treth while conceding those of another world to the Vrizan. Meanwhile each side seeks in whatever way possible to cement its respective claims.”
Ruslan had a sudden thought. “Who has the rights to Seraboth?”
“The Combine.” Kel’les did not wait for the commander to reply. Ruslan felt oddly comforted to hear that the Myssari would maintain control of the world of his birth, though for all he knew of the Vrizan they might have proven themselves better caretakers than his hosts. Though not, he told himself, more polite.
“You said that competing claims would be settled ‘in whatever way possible.’ Although I have only one personal experience to go on, I assume this includes armed conflict as a means of resolving disputes?”
San’dwil looked away, clearly uncomfortable. He answered but did not dispute. “Negotiation is better.” Two arms spread out to encompass the totality of the base. “My group here is focused on science, not territorial acquisition. I would prefer it remain so.” His attention returned to his guest. “It is quite possible the Vrizan are unaware of your existence. Returning to his superiors with such news would be the second most important thing the Vrizan scout—spy—could do.”
Ruslan frowned. “What would be the most important thing?”
“Returning with you.” San’dwil emphasized each word.
“So maybe that’s why he didn’t shoot me. I’m potentially valuable to them as well.”
“An unparalleled scientific asset.” Kel’les was first through the door to the building that contained their living quarters. “Now that the Vrizan know you exist and are here on Treth, they may try by other means to make contact with you. If they cannot take you by force, they may try to induce you to cooperate with them.”
Ruslan smiled as he was enveloped by the warmer air of the building’s interior. “You’ve already given me anything I could want, including your efforts to try and find old Earth. There’s nothing the Vrizan could offer that would surpass that.”
Unless by some chance the Vrizan know its location, he thought.
“We are here to carry out scientific research and studies on the history and culture of humankind.” San’dwil was drifting away. He had a report to compose. “I personally do not wish to be drawn into even the slightest of violent conflicts. We will leave all discussions concerning informal encounters to the appropriate components of the system.”