In a single smooth swooping motion made possible only by an arm composed of dozens of individual joints, one of the escorts raised his sidearm. Ruslan stiffened.
So this is how the last human in the galaxy dies, he thought calmly. Being fought over by representatives of two alien species. The central prize in a scientific tug-of-war. Thinking of the ancient children’s game made him smile. It would be good to go out focused on such an antiquated image. Just like his entire species. He did feel sorry for Kel’les and the others. His death would not do their career prospects any good, although the Myssari viewed such things differently than a human. He closed his eyes. The leader of the Vrizan research team was speaking. Kel’les translated for him.
“Do not fire! You might hit the human.”
Blinking, Ruslan saw the speaker push down on the arm of the military escort who had started to take aim. A bit, though far from all, of the tension seeped out of the room. Beyond the transparent section of wall, Ruslan could see that the small open area outside that had been carefully landscaped with native Trethian plants was filling up with armed, restless Myssari. It seemed possible that he might live. He was happier for his Myssari companions than for himself.
“No knowledge is to be gained by those who seek it from fighting among themselves.” The Vrizan leader stood tall on his slender legs. “I ask your forgiveness for this awkward attempt. My orders to make the attempt came from a higher authority. From off-world, to be exact. I explained that it was unlikely to meet with success but I was overruled. Having complied with our pointless instructions, I assure you that we will now depart quietly.” For a last time his gaze fell on Ruslan. “If you should change your mind, human, I hope you will not hesitate to contact us. Since I doubt that your hosts will allow me to provide you with a means of doing so, I trust that should you ever wish to do so you will find a way of managing that communication. Studies show that your species was wonderfully resourceful. I can only hope its last representative is equal to any task to which he may set himself.”
Ruslan followed the Vrizan as they were escorted out. There was certainly much to admire about them. He had admired the native predator that had tried to eat him, too, but that did not mean he wanted to live with it or its kind. His relief obvious, Bac’cul turned to him.
“Are you all right, Ruslan?”
“I’m fine. I just want to rest.”
The researcher indicated his understanding. “I believe we all need a break after that confrontation. It could have turned calamitous.”
Nodding agreement, Ruslan rose and started in the direction that would lead him back to his assigned living quarters. The three Myssari who knew him best watched him go. Cor’rin was first to comment.
“What do you think?”
“The human has always been as good as his word,” a thoughtful Bac’cul observed. “Though it is oftentimes difficult to tell what he is thinking, his speech is invariably straightforward. I do not think he will try to contact the Vrizan. If he was so inclined, I believe he would have stepped across the room to join them here and now.”
“I agree,” added Kel’les. “I have spent more time in closer contact with him than anyone, and I have never known him to prevaricate. Nevertheless, I believe that as long as we remain on Treth he should be watched, especially when I am unable to accompany him. I will explain our conclusion to San’dwil.”
Cor’rin indicated that she was in agreement. Then, bearing in mind Bac’cul’s earlier observation regarding the need for everyone to rest, they departed the room as a group.
7
Work at the outpost continued as usual, with the only change being the instigation of greatly enhanced security. San’dwil and his assistants had been leery of the contending Vrizan presence on Treth prior to their attempt to abduct, and then to persuade, the human. Subsequent to those efforts, they initiated security procedures that bordered on the paranoid. No one was allowed off-base without being armed. Duplicate hardened emergency beacons were installed on all driftecs. Researchers who had never encountered, much less handled, a weapon in their lives were put through a course of hasty instruction. It was all very distracting to the scientists, who wished nothing but to concentrate on their work, but San’dwil was insistent.
Having now met multiple Vrizan, Ruslan would have chanced taking them at their word that they would not try anything untoward again, but it was not his career that was at stake. He would have chanced it partly because he was honestly curious to learn more about the Myssari’s rivals and partly because his hosts considered him far more valuable than he did himself. Respectfully but firmly deprived of the opportunity for interspecies contact, he had to content himself with learning what he could about the alien bipeds by searching through the research materials available on the base.
These told him that the Vrizan were a bold, space-traversing species who competed with other races as well as with the Myssari for new knowledge and new worlds. Like the Myssari, they had entered the virtually unpopulated galactic arm that contained Treth and Seraboth from well-developed star systems located many thousands of light-years distant. While more aggressive in their expansion than the Myssari or the O’lu, the Chaanoss or the Hahk’na, the Vrizan were not flagrantly warlike. Among civilized species, fighting was a last resort, one extremely difficult and costly to wage between star systems. Far better to find other ways and means to settle disagreements. The extreme behavior exhibited in their effort to acquire Ruslan in support of their research demonstrated how much they coveted the sole surviving representative of humankind as well as how highly they valued that vanished civilization itself. Ruslan did not feel flattered. He felt objectified.
Nevertheless, the enticing words of the Vrizan representative remained in his mind, and refused to fade away.
They were still nagging at him the next day as he stood outside in the sun in the central plaza that formed the physical nexus of the base. Giving Kel’les a break from the task of continuously monitoring the human, Cor’rin had temporarily taken the intermet’s place. She was leaning back on one of the tubelike inclined benches that provided a resting place for the tripodal Myssari frame. Ruslan had chosen to sit on the ground nearby, his back against one of the curiously horizontal native growths, his forearms resting on his pulled-up legs, his chin propped on his interlaced fingers.
She found the human’s persistent silence personally as well as professionally troubling. “It has been observed that your behavior of late has trended to joylessness.”
Glancing up at her without shifting his position, he commented sourly, “Truly nothing can be hidden from the penetrating eye of Myssari science.”
She flinched. “I only meant that—”
“Forget it.” He waved a hand at her and, by implication, the cosmos in general. “I’m tired and discouraged, and I shouldn’t inflict that on you.” A hint of a smile crossed his features. “That was very impolite of me.”
Uncertain whether he was retracting his sarcasm or emphasizing it, she decided to approach the subject from a different angle. “Your current degraded mental state is making it difficult for Bac’cul, myself, and others to work with you. While the questions that are asked may seem trivial to you, I assure you they are very important to us, both as individual researchers and in enlarging our knowledge of human civilization as a whole.”