“Please,” came the irritating, intruding words again. “A shuttle arrives this evening. The ship comes only for us. It is a notable honor. And an expensive one.”
No matter how much he wished for it to go away, the voice of veracity persisted. It belonged to Kel’les. With great reluctance Ruslan waved a finger in the direction of the controls. Romping rainbow chelabar, wide-winged wind-riding simmets, and amusing chirping aiau vanished. So did cerulean sky and blue-green ocean. The displacement bubble and the comforting images that surrounded him evaporated, as did the relaxed mood in which he had been immersed. Resigned to reality, he swiveled in his specially modified chair to confront his determined minder.
“What’s all this about a shuttle and a special ship?”
“We are departing Treth tonight.”
Ruslan still did not grasp the situation. Or maybe he didn’t want to.
“What do you mean, leaving?”
“All of us.”
Striding through the human’s quarters, Kel’les had begun collecting personal items and placing them in neat piles. There was not much to gather. In hopes of keeping him content and cooperative, the Myssari Combine had offered him nearly anything he wished. Needing very little, he had accepted very little. It was not as if he were going to boast of his possessions to his neighbors.
“We are leaving Treth.” The minder spoke as s’he worked, handling even the simplest of the human’s belongings with care.
As Ruslan slumped back in the chair visual echoes of the sea scene in which he had just been immersed flickered teasingly across his retinas. “I guess I lost track of time. I thought we were supposed to be here for another thirty-three-day period.” A wry smile cracked his expression. “From what you’re saying, I suppose it means even Wol’daeen has given up on the idea that I might have something to contribute here. I’m not surprised. Depression is a poor interpreter, and that’s all I’ve had to offer lately. I won’t be sorry to get back to Pe’leoek.”
Pausing in the work, Kel’les looked over at him. “We are not going back to Myssar. A discovery has been made and a ship diverted to take us to its location. We are to be sent to Daribb.”
It took Ruslan a moment to connect with the name. That he recognized it was not surprising. Learning the names of all the human-settled systems had been a part of every child’s basic education on Seraboth, as it likely was on every similar world. In the course of working with Myssari researchers, there had been numerous occasions on which he had been obliged to recall such names. Still, he needed to confirm it.
“Daribb. That is a human-colonized system, isn’t it?” The busy Kel’les gestured affirmatively. “What do they want with me there?” He raised a hand. “No, let me guess. The Myssari have a scientific research station there not unlike this one and the staff desires my inimitable input.”
“There is that,” Kel’les admitted. “But it is not the main reason. I am told that your presence is requested in the event certain sightings turn out to be confirmed.”
He was only mildly intrigued. “What kind of sightings? Active automatons? Still-functioning weaponry? Mysterious cultural artifacts that your people cannot comprehend?”
Kel’les put down the pair of pants s’he was in the process of folding into three layers. “A pair of free-ranging aerial automatics scouting new territory reported the possible sighting of a live human or humans.”
Delivered in the intermet’s usual matter-of-fact tone, the words went through Ruslan like an electric charge. His mind momentarily blanked and for an instant he stopped breathing. Then he made Kel’les repeat what s’he had said. Confirmation that he had heard correctly birthed a thousand questions, to which it quickly became clear Kel’les had less than a thousand answers.
“Enhancement of the recorded images and careful perusal of the report have apparently convinced senior researchers on Myssar that whatever the automatics saw, it was not a machine. Whether it was truly a living human, simply a native creature of similar shape and stature, or the product of convergent evolution they cannot say.” The intermet paused to ensure s’he was using the right words. “But should it turn out to be another surviving human, or more than one, it is considered imperative that you be present. Not only to confirm the discovery but to aid in acquiring the new specimen.”
Despite Kel’les’s customary care in speaking, the use of the terms “acquiring” and “specimen” were ill-considered. Another time, Ruslan might have taken offense or responded with a riposte rich with his trademark sarcasm. Not now. Not this time.
“How did it look?” The questions poured out of him rapidly and in uncharacteristically bad Myssari. “Old, young, male, female, in good health or bad, what? By all that is sacred and sapient, tell me something!”
Kel’les’s tone was mournful. “I have told you all that I was told, Ruslan. There is no more to tell.”
Rising from his chair, the diversionary oceanic delights of the displacement sphere now completely forgotten, Ruslan moved purposefully toward the small storage unit that contained the rest of his meager personal belongings.
“Go prepare your own self for travel. I will be ready in nine smalltime.”
“There is no need for haste. The shuttle will not arrive until—”
“Nine smalltime. Go on, go!”
Thus dismissed, a complaisant Kel’les departed, leaving behind the sole human on Treth. Awhirl, Ruslan’s thoughts clashed so hard that his head began to pound.
Dare he hope? Dare he wish? The Myssari thought enough of the report to send a ship just to transfer him and his small group of attached researchers from one world to another. They might not have convincing proof of the discovery, but they clearly had expectations. Could he, after all these years convinced he was the last human alive, dare to hope otherwise?
What if the report turned out to be wholly inaccurate? What if, as Kel’les had suggested, the scouts had merely taken note of the existence of some native primate-like lifeform? He struggled, he fought, to restrain his excitement. If that proved to be the case, disappointment would not kill him: human beings did not die from disappointment. Besides, why should he expect the report to be accurate? It would not be the first time. There had been previous reports of humans living on other worlds. All had turned out to be false; misperceptions of self-maintaining machines or local wildlife.
But never before had the Science Sectionary gone to the trouble and expense of sending a ship solely to take him to help verify or refute such a report in person.
He had lied to Kel’les about the time he would need to prepare himself. He was ready in a threepart.
The name Daribb was familiar to him, but not the place. On the scale of suitability for human life, it ranked somewhere in the bottom third of habitable worlds. Such a designation indicated that rather than being unsuitable for settlement, it was more awkward and uncomfortable than dangerous. That it was quite literally a messy place had put off the fussy and starry-eyed. Those who had been willing to put down roots and work hard had done well. In the end it did not matter. The inhabitants of Daribb succumbed to the Aura Malignance as readily and rapidly as those who dwelled on more welcoming worlds.
Most notably, Daribb was a flat place. Very flat. Any mountain ranges had long since been ground down. The few geological contusions high enough to be called a hill were few and far between. To these isolated continental bumps humankind had consigned their scattered settlements and cities. When they began running short of elevated places, they expanded out onto the surrounding flats—and onto the mud.