“They believe their action was just,” Ofelia said. “They will not tolerate more intrusion.”
“Surely you told them there was no question of further colonization?” Likisi said, looking at Bilong.
“I tried,” Bilong said. “I thought I’d gotten it across.”
“You see, Sera Falfurrias,” Likisi said to her, “they are protected under our laws — no one will try to colonize here — but they can’t just go around killing people because they’re upset—” “The colonists killed their people — their children and nest-guardians,” Ofelia said. “But that was an accident,” Likisi said, “They must understand that — the colonists made a mistake, but what they did was deliberate. We can accept that it was also a mistake — no one is howling for revenge… well, some are, but the government won’t allow it. But they can’t use violence against us again. And we will be sure they don’t have the technology to do us any real damage, until they’ve matured enough not to use it.”
Ofelia felt as if someone had crocheted her insides into one big complicated knot. She forced herself to go on. “But from what you and the others have told me, they have cities far north of here, and boats with sails. How can you keep them from learning on their own?”
Likisi laughed. “It will take them years — centuries — to get to a real industrial base. Its unfortunate that they came down here and found out about electricity, but they’ll have to figure out how to make generators and batteries… it took humans thousands of years, and they won’t figure it out in less. Anyway, as long as they can’t get offplanet, they can’t do us any real harm.” Humans had not had the finished product to look at, Ofelia thought. How long had it taken the humans who didn’t invent the new things to learn to use them? To make and repair them? Bilong spoke up. “I don’t understand, Sera, how you know all this. You haven’t really studied the language—” “I have lived with them longer,” Ofelia said. “They want to talk to me.” “Yes, but you can misunderstand so much,” Bilong said. “For instance, that word I’ve heard you say… I did an acoustic analysis, and you don’t say it anything like they do.” Bilong took a breath and produced a “click-kaw-keerrr” that sounded right to Ofelia. “That’s how they say it, and what you do is — ‘click-kawkeerrr’ — can you hear the difference?” Ofelia couldn’t.
She wasn’t sure there really was any difference; Blue-cloak understood her well enough when she said it. “My point is,” Bilong said, leaning on the table with both elbows, “you don’t really understand them; you just think you do. And they came when you were all alone, probably even psychotic from the solitude, and you think of them as friends. They aren’t friends; they’re aliens. Indigenes, I mean,” she added with a quick glance at the others.
Ofelia looked out the window. It was dark outside, the brief tropical twilight was over. If she knew anything about humans, the two military advisors and the pilot, sure that their nominal bosses would be away for hours, would have accompanied their lesser feast with whatever illicit drink they had offered her the day before. If they had any form of amusement, entertainment cubes or hardcopy, they would be gathered around it now. It was too early to worry, too early for “anything to happen,” They would be more alert later, when they might be expecting their boss to return.
What she could not know was what kind of safeguards might be on the shuttle itself. She had explained to Bluecloak the kinds she knew about, the little beams of light or sound that reacted if interrupted, the pressure plates, the locks that required known palmprints or retinal patterns. Bluecloak had not seemed concerned. And that was not her problem now. “They are very intelligent,” Ofelia said. “They learn very fast, even as babies.”
“Babies! What do you know about their babies?” Kira sat up straight, and put down the pie she had held. This was the part that scared Ofelia most. She had not wanted to admit that the People had babies here, but Bluecloak and Gurgle-click-cough had insisted. She must tell her people about the babies; they must see the babies.
“They have cute babies,” Ofelia said. “Very affectionate, very quick to learn.”
“You’ve seen their babies?!” all of them at once, practically. “There are babies here?”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kira asked.
“You didn’t ask me,” Ofelia said, with great satisfaction. Just as anger flowered from the remains of surprise, she stood up. “Come along, if you want to see them.”
Nothing would have stopped them. They crowded her heels across the lane to the center, where Ofelia knocked on the closed door. Bluecloak opened it; she winked at Bluecloak and led the others in. When they were all inside, she shut the door behind them.
“Why are you shutting the door?” Likisi asked.
“We don’t want the babies to run out in the street,” Ofelia said, as she led them down the passage to the schoolroom. She could hear the others following her. Ahead, light spilled out the schoolroom door, and she could hear the squeaky voices of the babies.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ofelia did not know herself exactly what Bluecloak had planned in the way of demonstrations. What she saw — what they all saw — exceeded anything she had imagined. One of the babies, perched on Gurgle click-cough’s lap, poked at the controls of a classroom computer. On the display, colored patterns swirled. Two of the adults were hunched over a couple of gourds, fiddling with wires that connected to… Ofelia blinked… they had connected half the rooms electrical demonstrations to their gourds. The other two babies played on the floor with models of gears and screws, constructing something intricate. Ofelia wondered what it was, and if it would work when it was done. “Oh… my… God.” That was Likisi; Ofelia had not suspected him of any religious beliefs. “They’re — they’re using a computer?” Bluecloak came forward; he had shut the door behind them, silently. “Iss dun.” “But how did he learn — did you teach them? After we warned you?” Likisi glared at Ofelia. Bluecloak stepped between them forcing a confrontation.
“Huhooaht hooeee sssee, hooeee aaak.” Bluecloak said, waving its arm to encompass everything in the room.
“It means,” Bilong said to Likisi, “what we see, we make. They do, I mean. He says they can make anything they’ve seen. They can’t really, but—” “Aaakss zzzzt!” Bluecloak said, and spoke in his own language to the creatures with the gourds. Ofelia held her breath. She could hardly believe it would work again; it had seemed too much like magic the first time.
The lights went out, and before the startled humans could exclaim, a string of smaller bulbs flared in the center of the room. The room lights came back on, and the one beside the gourds puffed its throat-sac twice at the humans, then moved a switch and the little lights went off.
“That’s impossible!” Likisi said. “They’ve used an extension cord — a hidden battery—”
“The battery is the gourds,” Ofelia said. Bluecloak had explained it to her. “They brew some stuff that
works like the acid in a liquid battery—”
“They can’t do that — there’s no way—”
“It could be.” Kira went over to look. “If they’ve come up with an acid—” “They make explosives, you know,” Ofelia said. “That shuttle—” “Zzzzt inn ssky,” Bluecloak said. “Sssane zzzzt inn ires, aaakss lahtt, aaakss kuhll, aaakss tuurn…” “You told them!” Likisi rounded on Ofelia. “You had to tell them this; they couldn’t have figured it out. They don’t even have a government — !”