They had almost finished when the attention of human and Myssari alike was diverted by the hum of an arriving air transport. It was larger than the one that had preceded it. The anxious troops who emerged to be greeted by their few still-stunned surviving comrades were more heavily armed than their predecessors. They had been prepared to confront a Myssari scientific team and perhaps a pair of humans. Met by the sight of more than a thousand of the latter, all apparently as healthy as they were diverse, their commander and his suborns were taken aback as to how to proceed.
Taking pity on them and fully sympathizing with their shock, Bac’cul took it upon himself to make the next set of introductions. The Vrizan officer struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. In contrast, the human Nashrudden appeared utterly at ease with the arrival of a new set of aliens.
“So these are the Vrizan?” he asked Cherpa. “The species you said is desirous of laying claim to and settling Earth?” When she nodded confirmation, the scientist walked directly up to the Vrizan commander. They were of equal height, Ruslan noted, and, craniums aside, truly more alike than human and Myssari.
“Tell him, if it is a him, that the people of Earth are returning from a long sleep to reclaim their homeworld.”
She translated into Myssari, and then back again when the Vrizan replied via his translator. “Commander Kanathel Uri Eln extends his greetings and wants to know how many people of Earth are going to return.”
“We are but the first of many. All returns start small. Tell him.”
She proceeded to do so. Physically capable of far more facial expression than a Myssari though less than a human, the Vrizan honored himself with as extreme a variety of facial tics and contortions as Ruslan had yet observed in one of his kind. When the commander finally found his voice again, it was to put another question to the human via Cherpa.
“Assuming your claim was to be upheld by the relevant authorities, he wishes to know what you would plan to do with the existing settlements the Vrizan have worked hard to establish here.”
Nashrudden met the alien’s gaze as evenly as he could. “Tell him that while I must consult with others of my kind, I see no reason why they should not remain. There are many… empty spaces… that could do with the ameliorating touch of civilization. Any civilization. Devastating as it is, a mass die-off of one’s own kind is a powerful argument for future cooperation.” When Bac’cul started to object, the scientist added that the Myssari were welcome to establish similar projects of their own. “All assistance will be gratefully welcomed. It may be hoped that we have knowledge we can share with you as much as you can share with us. The knowledge of the living,” he concluded, “to complement that of the dead.”
While not entirely happy with the human’s assertions, the Vrizan saw no civilized means of contesting it. It was not for a minor functionary like Kanathel to decide anyway. The rendering of such momentous decisions was the province of his superiors. He was glad it was so. It was not a decision he would have wished to make on his own. When all communication with the field team that had preceded him failed, he had been ordered to assemble a rescue team and proceed to the site at speed. It is safe to say that whatever he was expecting to find, the presence of hundreds of live humans, with more continuing to file out of the tunnel every minute, had not figured into his planning.
Was the human who spoke no Myssari telling the truth when he claimed there would soon be many more of his resurrected kind spreading out across this world? Though rather more aggressive than the Myssari, the Vrizan were no less ethical than their tripodal rivals. The commander knew there could be no valid excuse to mount a war for a world that was being reclaimed by its original inhabitants. Additionally, the collective wisdom of a race that had successfully settled dozens of worlds was surely worth far more than any single habitable planet. If the human scientist was to be taken at his word, his kind were willing to freely share much of that knowledge. It behooved the Vrizan to begin the relationship on good terms with them. Lastly, his people were far more firmly established on the human homeworld than the awkward Myssari.
Trusting the human female to continue translating honestly, he raised one hand and turned it upside down in presentation to the revived scientist.
“You are most generous. I personally look forward to assisting your people in fully reclaiming this world.”
“As do the Myssari,” put in Bac’cul hastily. Though no diplomat, he could evaluate a critical situation when he saw one. “The Combine will provide you with any and all the help that you need.”
“As will the Vrizan.” Commander and research team leader glared at each other.
Leaving the two alien representatives to engage in an ongoing confrontation that was chilly but polite, the three humans edged away to greet and explain the current situation to as many of the revived as they could.
Eventually a driftec arrived to carry the original exploration team back to the Myssari outpost. Nashrudden and several of his colleagues went along. Looking back as he prepared to board the transport, Ruslan could see the resurrected humans organizing themselves into groups. As they began their work, repositories would be unearthed, automatics activated, and supplies distributed. Reconstruction would begin soon enough. Aid already promised by the Vrizan and the Myssari would help to speed recovery. Earth, humankind’s Earth, would live again. This time there would be no mistakes.
He entered the driftec and took a seat across from Cherpa, who was engaged in animated conversation with Nashrudden. The two were about the same age, Ruslan reflected. She had never seen a man her own age. Something sharp and painful lanced through him, faded like a burn, and was gone. This was right, he told himself as he watched them. Heavy as it lay within him, he could not find it in himself to object to rightness.
The woman who sat down beside him was one of the first ten following Nashrudden to be revived. She appeared older than the scientist but not by much. Her eyes, Ruslan noted, were very violet.
“You’re Ruslan, aren’t you?” She gestured across the way. “Nashrudden told me about you. You’re a natural immune from, I think he said, Seraboth. I’m Elehna. Elehna Anchez, one of the last to be extracted and have her body put in stasis. Like Nashrudden.” When he said nothing, she smiled. “You know what used to be said: the last shall be first?”
He finally remembered to nod, trying not to stare. “Yes, I’m Ruslan. Ruslan… I don’t remember the rest.”
“Well, Ruslan-I-don’t-remember-the-rest, Nashrudden says that you have lived and survived among these trisymmetrical aliens ever since they plucked you off your homeworld, and I really would like to hear everything you can tell me about your experiences. In detail.”
He found himself, automatically, smiling back. It was a smile that just kept getting wider and wider.
“And me? I’ve waited most of my life for the chance to tell you.”
“There will be others,” she told him. “They’ll want to know what you know, too.”
“I’m happy to start with you.” He truly was. “How many others have to be revived? How much work remains to be done to bring them all back into the light? How many thousands will walk the surface of the homeworld again?”
“Thousands?” She looked at him strangely. “The Project head didn’t tell you?”
He shook his head. “I just assumed thousands.”
Her expression shifted from warm to serious. “Ruslan, there are three billion of us.”