They had not come to offer additional sympathies. There was no need. Empathy had been proffered all the way from the archeological site back to the base. The xenologist got right to the point.
“We have just received word that Wol’daeen is going to try another double resurrection tomorrow, and we need to know if you wish to attend. An alternative procedure will be employed. We are informed that she has a list of several varying techniques, ranked in order of descending theoretical success.”
He did not stir from the special improvised bed on which he lay. “When she runs one that has real instead of theoretical results, let me know. Otherwise I’d rather not go back there.” Memories of wandering the silent, death-filled streets of Seraboth’s cities rushed through his mind, an unavoidable tsunami of sorrow. The early decades of his life had been spent stepping over or around the dead and decaying. He had no wish to relive those moments now, not even if surrounded by the cool white comfort of advanced Myssari technology.
“What’s the purpose of it all, anyway?” Rising from the edge of the bed, he walked over to a food dispenser. The liquid he called forth took a moment to brew. He credited the Myssari with accepting without question his insistence that he required the periodic ingestion of alcohol to function properly. Taking a too-long draft from the modified fluid container, he regarded his visitors.
“I’ve said it before and this seems a suitable time to say it again, no matter what the Science Sectionary feels. Why put so much effort into bringing back a species that’s responsible for its own extinction?”
“You know why.” Kel’les held his stance as well as his stare. “You have been told repeatedly. The knowledge of and about your kind is important.”
“Why, why? Remind me again.” He took another heady swallow of the drink that had been concocted to his specifications.
“Because all knowledge is important,” Kel’les told him.
“Yeah, right. Lot of good it did my kind.”
“Motivation, right or wrong, exists separate from knowledge.” Cor’rin was unexpectedly forceful. “It is the knowledge that matters, not what motivates the acquiring of it.”
Ruslan grunted, swaying slightly. “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake.”
“If you will,” she shot back. “On one thing, I believe we can agree.”
“What’s that?”
“You are not the most qualified individual to decide on the validity of that conclusion.”
A broad smile creased his face. “Why, Cor’rin, I do believe there are those of your kind who would consider that frank assessment to be borderline uncivil!”
Kel’les stepped forward. “I am more aware than anyone, including probably yourself, of the effect the too-rapid ingestion of alcohol has on the human system. Already you are having difficulty cogitating clearly.” The intermet turned to the other Mysarri present and, with as much firmness as Ruslan had ever heard from his minder, said, “Please leave now, Cor’rin, in order to deprive our plainly troubled human charge of any opportunity to further embarrass himself.”
She hesitated, then as she turned to leave executed a gesture that managed to convey both compliance and understanding. In a moment she was gone, leaving Kel’les to cope alone with behavior that only further underscored Ruslan’s frequent lamentations regarding human fallibility.
He was unsure what woke him first: the distant mechanical hum that suggested the presence of large machinery operating in an area of the base where it ought not to be present, or the subtle but insistent chiming of the door. Verbally activating the one-way view showed Kel’les standing outside. That the intermet looked more agitated than the human had ever seen motivated Ruslan to swiftly rise from his sleeping platform. Without taking the time to dress, he admitted his handler.
Having viewed it on numerous occasions both in person and via detailed biological schematics, Kel’les paid no attention to the biped’s nakedness. Nor did s’he comment on what to a Myssari would be the difficulty of dressing oneself with only two hands instead of three. S’he had scarcely allowed the door, which automatically opaqued once more, to close before s’he began speaking.
“I hope you are fully recovered both mentally and physically from your physiological diversion of the previous day, as this morning brings with it a potential awkwardness.”
Ruslan frowned as he wrestled a lightweight shirt down over his chest. “What kind of awkwardness? Don’t tell me Wol’daeen insists that I watch another potentially botched revivification?”
Further emphasizing that something out of the ordinary was in prospect, his minder’s responding gesture involved simultaneous movement of all three hands.
“This has nothing to do with Wol’daeen or the human cryostorage facility. The Vrizan are here.”
The vestiges of sleep that were pawing at Ruslan’s thoughts vanished like mist caught in sunlight. “The scout who encountered me is here?”
“Not the scout. Many Vrizan.” Kel’les glanced back in the direction of the doorway. “There was talk by San’dwil and the other base supervisors of spiriting you away, but there was not sufficient time. The Vrizan arrived without notice. Their craft came in using military-grade concealment and revealed itself only when ready to touch down.”
Now fully awake, Ruslan’s mind was awhirl with possibilities, most of them disagreeable. “I don’t understand. Are we under attack?”
“Not overtly, no. At least, so I have been led to believe. No hostile gestures have been made and no weapons have been brandished. Oppositely, those bent on friendly concourse tend not to arrive under cover of military-rated camouflage.” S’he whistled significantly as s’he inhaled. “These are Vrizan, not Myssari. It is difficult to comprehend their reasoning in coming here in such a fashion.”
“Maybe they’re shy.” Sitting on the edge of the sleeping platform, Ruslan eased his feet into the special sandals that had been fashioned for him.
“Whatever else they may be, the Vrizan are not shy.” Kel’les’s tone was reproving.
“You think they’re here after me?”
“Doubtless we will learn their purpose shortly. San’dwil and the others have been theorizing. As you are the most valuable asset at this location, and quite unique, the intent was to move you to a place where your presence could not become an issue. That now cannot be done. Any driftec departing the base would immediately come under scrutiny by the Vrizan.”
“I suppose it’s flattering to know that I’m still considered that important.” He rose from the platform. “I don’t want to be the cause of any fighting.”
Kel’les’s expression, such as was permitted by his less flexible face, did not change. “That decision is not up to you.”
Ruslan’s lips pressed tightly together before he replied. “I see that something else hasn’t changed, either.” He nodded toward the door. “Since I am not the master of my destiny, what happens now?”
“We wait.”
He could only fume quietly while wondering if he would be allowed to hear whatever decisions were being made concerning his welfare or if they would simply be forwarded to Kel’les to convey to him. He might be nominally independent, but he was also property. Of one thing he was certain: the Myssari would not surrender him easily.
Now he was the one hypothesizing. Notwithstanding the Vrizan’s stealth arrival, his alien minders and mentors might be overreacting. The unexpected Vrizan visit might have nothing to do with him.