“This stiff but bendable flesh behind your aural openings… what is its purpose?”
“You have two kinds of teeth—pointed and flat. Why?”
“There is no proper separation between the upper and lower halves of your torso. How do you keep waste material in the lower half from corrupting and poisoning the organs in the upper half?”
It went on like that for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. Eventually Kel’les relaxed. The Vrizan gave no indication of wanting to hit Ruslan with anything more damaging than a flurry of questions. San’dwil, on the other hand, did not relax, nor did those around him. While occasional glances flashed the way of the visiting researchers, far more of the Myssari supervisors’ attention was focused on the Vrizan military personnel who had accompanied them.
As Ruslan stood surrounded, the questions kept coming.
“Your head is impossibly round but you have two eyes. Do you have binocular vision?”
“What is the purpose of the small divided organ in the center of your face? Doesn’t it interfere with your consumption of food?”
“How do your limbs function in the absence of a proper number of joints?”
He was growing tired, both of the endless queries and from having to stand in one place for so long. When he expressed his unhappiness, one Vrizan researcher rushed to bring him a Myssari seating bench while the others held their questions until he was again ready to reply. It was not at all what he had anticipated; certainly not from his previous single encounter with the Vrizan scout. Admittedly the circumstances were decidedly different this time. What he had not expected, especially based on the concern expressed by Kel’les and San’dwil, was the respect being shown to him by the visitors. It bordered on awe. In contrast, with the exception of Kel’les, the Myssari treated him as something valuable to be preserved rather than as an individual to be regarded as an equal. Granted, it was possible he was misreading their attitude. More time spent on Myssar did not necessarily breed familiarity.
After he informed them, as he took his seat, that they could continue to ask questions—but please, not too many more, for he really was growing weary—the Vrizan scientists resumed their excited interrogation. This time they did not talk over one another and they gave him more time to respond thoughtfully to each query.
What came next he did not expect at all.
As he was replying to a question relating to an obscure aspect of human culture, one of the heretofore less active interviewers moved very close, leaned over with a multitudinous popping of joints, and whispered.
“Why do you remain in the company of these insipid tripods? You and I, we are both bipeds. We Vrizan are normal bisexuals, like humans. Like you, each of us has more than three digits on our hands. Although they are positioned differently on our heads, our eyes are like yours, large and equipped for marginal night vision as well as excellent sight during the day. Though you have far fewer joints, our means and method of vertical locomotion are similar. We are more straightforward and honest in our dealings. We are bold, as was humankind before its fall. We do not simper and neither did your people. Human and Vrizan have far more in common than human and Myssari.”
As Ruslan digested this extraordinary disquisition the speaker straightened. The eyes at the ends of his flattened, elongated skull swiveled inward to face the human.
“Come with us. The Myssari have learned much from you. Why should we not have the same opportunity? They cannot possibly treat you as well as we will. There are more similarities between humankind and Vrizan than I can enumerate in a short time. You will see for yourself if you come with us.”
Ruslan was aware that all questioning had ceased. Insofar as he could tell, none of the Vrizan researchers looked surprised by the offer that had just been extended. Their plan of action—respectful questioning followed by unexpected offer—had doubtless been rehearsed and agreed upon long before the science team had left its base. They were all staring at him now, a progression of widely separated alien eyes. Waiting for his reply.
A nervous Kel’les rejoined him. “Is everything all right, Ruslan?” The intermet eyed the now expectant visitors worriedly. “It has gone quiet. Are they finished with you?”
“Everything’s fine, Kel’les. Just one more question to answer and then we’ll be done here.” Given the extraordinary separation of the Vrizan’s oculars, Ruslan tried to meet the gaze of the alien who had voiced the offer as best he could.
“You are absolutely right. On the face of it, my people and yours have much more in common than they do with the Myssari. In many ways the Vrizan do appear to be far more humanlike.” A startled Kel’les started to say something but Ruslan forestalled his friend. “That is why I will not go with you.”
While unhappy murmuring rose from among the visiting researchers, it was left to their spokesman to respond. His bemusement appeared genuine. “I—we—do not understand. If we are more like you, then would you not find yourself more comfortable among us?”
“Quite the contrary. As I have inferred, by your words and your actions, you do share many features with my kind. The last thing I want is to be reminded of them. You remind me of failure, of hubris, of arrogance. Of the death of millions upon millions of innocents.” He lowered his eyes. “I already have far too many memories of such things.” He gestured toward Kel’les, and beyond, to the other intently staring Myssari. “All my disturbing reminiscences will trouble me less if I remain with them, I think. Because they do not remind me of my kind at all.” He raised his gaze anew. “I hope you can respect that.”
The senior alien researcher paused for a long moment. Then he made a gesture. It was a forceful gesture, delivered in the manner of the Vrizan—or a human.
“Yes, we can respect that.” He started backward, the numerous joints in his legs crackling harmonically. “We cannot understand it, but we can respect it. However, we need not agree to it.”
His retreat accelerated. Not with as much agility as a Myssari, a tight-lipped Ruslan thought. More like a human struggling not to trip and fall. Weapons appeared in the hands of the researchers’ turquoise-garbed military escort. The human sighed resignedly. So the instinctive defensive, antagonistic reaction of the nocturnal scout he had surprised had not been an aberration after all. What a pity. But not a surprise. Faced with a similar situation, representatives of his own kind might well have reacted similarly. He might have done so himself.
What he was seeing now only confirmed that he wanted to live out the remainder of his life among the Myssari. Provided the Vrizan would let him. Their hand weapons were impressively advanced, their determination almost… human. The only one in the room who didn’t care a great deal what happened next was the subject of the confrontation.
Die today, die tomorrow—what’s the difference? On reflection he realized that he had actually enjoyed, as opposed to merely tolerated, all the years he had spent on Myssar. Aliens Kel’les and the other Myssari might be, utterly nonhuman in appearance, reproductive matters, and much of their culture. But they possessed one element that overrode all the others.
They were nice.
That intrinsic niceness did not prevent them from drawing weapons of their own, however. That this was done in defense of property more than of an individual did not trouble Ruslan. He was used to it. He was not only valuable: from a scientific standpoint he was irreplaceable. How far the Myssari were prepared to go to retain him and how far the Vrizan were prepared to reach to try to take him would be known within a minute.
As he sat speculating, Kel’les stepped in front of him. Bac’cul and Cor’rin crowded close at his sides. At the moment, the Myssari in the room were outnumbered and outgunned. That would not last long. A quick sideways glance out a nearby transparent panel showed movement in the base’s central plaza. Someone in the room had managed to sound an alarm or relay word of what was happening. Very soon all exits would be blocked and the Vrizans’ options would be drastically reduced. They would have to decide what to do in the next few seconds.