Relic

17

When the atmospheric transit vehicle finally descended low enough for him to once more distinguish individual surface features, Ruslan found himself shocked at the size and extent of the Vrizan outpost. He quickly decided that “outpost” was inadequate to describe what he was seeing. It was at least a station and possibly large enough to qualify as a full-fledged base. The fact that the majority of it threaded its way along the bottom of a narrow, high-walled desert canyon could explain why it had not been detected by the initial, necessarily perfunctory Myssari survey.

He became aware that in addition to the team leader, another nearby Vrizan was watching him closely. Speaking Myssari, the alien responded to the human’s stare with an explanation.

“I am Abinahhs Uit Oln. You may call me by any of my three identifiers.”

Presuming the Vrizan was expecting a reaction, Ruslan complied. “I am Ruslan. You may call me by any one of three identifiers: angry, outraged, and uncooperative.”

“Sarcasm. The plentiful records left by your kind are rife with it. Fascinating to encounter it in life instead of merely in endless folios of dead speech. I am thinking it is even more effective in the original language than when transshipped via the feeble Myssari tongue.”

“In that case I am sorry you don’t speak my original language,” a glum Ruslan retorted, “so that I could provide you with multiple, more extreme examples.”

“In goodening time.” The Vrizan seemed remarkably even-tempered. “I look forward to it.”

“What about my unrelieved hostility?” Ruslan challenged him as their craft leveled off to land. “You have that to look forward to as well.”

The alien’s temperament was unshakable. “That will wither. Time and superior treatment are remarkably effective emollients.”

“I don’t believe I’ll have a chance to experience them.” The transport touched down with the slightest of bumps. “My friends are looking for me even as we speak.”

“I know that they are.” The Vrizan was no less certain than the specimen. “It is possible that they will locate this settlement before we can get you offworld. You will be interested to know that an appropriate Myssari vessel has already been dispatched in our general direction, though it is traveling at a slower speed, is still a considerable distance from here, and can have no idea of exactly where you have been taken.”

Ruslan replied with confidence. “You can be certain they’ll find me. And when they do, you’ll wish you…” He halted, frowning. Unsure of what he had just heard, he sought clarification. “Did you say ‘settlement’?”

“I am pleased that my command of a debased language is sufficiently competent for comprehension by a third party. ‘Settlement’ is the correct term, yes.” Rising from his seat, he gestured toward the back of the passenger compartment, his multi-jointed right arm flowing like a wave. “Please, Ruslan the angry, outraged, and uncooperative. Set aside your three harsh modifiers long enough to exit this craft of your own volition. It would displease me ethically and you physically were it to prove necessary to carry you off.”

Ruslan hesitated. Understanding that there was nothing to be gained by engaging in futile obtuseness (at least at this moment in time), he rose and followed the Vrizan. Two especially large examples of their kind fell in wordlessly behind him. He smiled with grim satisfaction. Though he had nowhere to run to, he was pleased by the notion that they feared such a possibility.

In contrast to the smooth architectural arcs preferred by the Myssari, Vrizan structural design favored conjoined shapes that could be sharply angled as well as curved. Startlingly, some of it was strongly reminiscent of buildings on Seraboth. That the structures boasted a more familiar appearance in no way made them inviting. He knew what the Vrizan wanted with him: the leader of the abduction team had told him as much. As a surviving human he was a living fount of information about his long-vanished kind. In return for details, explication, and explanation, they would doubtless treat him as well as Abinahhs claimed. There was no reason to do otherwise.

As had often been the case on Myssar, he would very much have liked to have been less popular.

They entered a building whose interior had been cleverly tailored to match the tinted sandstone in which it was set. An assortment of automatons whisked around them, some gliding along the smooth, patterned floor, others airborne. Every Vrizan they passed paused to stare at the marvelous acquisition that was Ruslan. He ignored them even to the extent of forgoing obscene gestures. They would have been meaningless in any case and he was too tired to engage in a futile exercise in primitive personal satisfaction. He found himself unable to restrain his own curiosity.

“What kind of ‘settlement’ are you talking about?”

“Why, a permanent one, of course.” Stepping aside, Abinahhs allowed the human to enter the room first.

Ruslan inhaled softly. Of all the things he had expected to encounter within the Vrizan outpost, calculated beauty was not among them.

The room duplicated, down to the smallest detail, a waterfall-dominated slot canyon. The original probably was to be found nearby, he decided as he entered. At the base of the musical spill of cool water was a small rock-lined pool. That the permanent rainbow that angled across the artful cascade was artificially generated made it no less beautiful. Native terrestrial plants fringed the pond. Benches that appeared to be hewn from solid sandstone proved to be composed of much softer and more accommodating synthetics. He sat without having to be told.

The dragonfly that appeared before his eyes paused in chromatic contemplation before flitting away. Brief as the encounter was, he could not tell if it was an actual insect or an artificial construct.

Abinahhs had taken a seat opposite—on a cushion much more like a human seat than a Myssari rest bar. The faux sandstone sank beneath his weight. His widely spaced eyes regarded the human. Ruslan did not doubt for a second that his every word, movement, and eye blink was being recorded by unseen pickups for study later. Never having had a live human to examine, Vrizan xenologists would doubtless be salivating over each individual image. Assuming their digestive processes produced saliva. He knew less about their kind than they did about his.

“You can’t have a permanent settlement here,” he said sharply.

“Why not?” Abinahhs was nothing if not straightforward. The formality Ruslan had come to associate with the Myssari seemed absent among the Vrizan. They were almost… affable. Brusque, but affable.

No, he corrected himself. Friendly overtures did not involve abduction. He remained wary.

“You can’t because this is Earth, homeworld to my kind, the place where my species evolved, built a civilization through trial and error, and eventually leaped out to the stars.”

“A commendable progression, to be sure. No one is arguing with that. Let me know when you require food or drink and it will be provided.” One long, nearly flexible arm swept wide to take in the surroundings outside the windowless chamber. “Which brings forward the question: where are your kind?”

Ruslan tensed but tried not to show it. Not that the Vrizan was likely to pick up on any physical clues anyway. “You know the answer to that question. As a human it’s not something of which I’m proud even though I, personally, am not responsible for what happened to my species. I’m a victim of the hereditary forces of rampant hubris.” This last was awkward to translate into Myssari. He managed, though he was not sure his translation carried with it the full weight of intended sarcasm.

Rising from his seat, Abinahhs began to pace back and forth in front of the specimen—anxious pacing being another trait Ruslan apparently shared with his captors.

“This world is, by the definition of any civilization, habitable but uninhabited. Respect for previous dominant species does not preclude replacing them. Your Earth is a beautiful world. Why should it not once again resound to the actions and words and deeds of an advanced civilization? That it would not be a human civilization is regrettable but irrelevant. Others of your kind would of course be welcome to settle here among us, with all rights and privileges. Indeed, they would be greeted with excitement and pleasure—were there any left to greet.”

Realization struck Ruslan hard. “You’ve made a formal claim. The Vrizan are claiming Earth.”

Abinahhs did not bother to deny it. “Of course we have. With a world as welcoming as this, we would have put forth a claim whether a previous civilization existed here or not.” Was that empathy in his voice? Ruslan wondered. “Your kind built a civilization, vast and advanced. And then destroyed it. I am afraid the claim of a single survivor does not outweigh that of a vital, developing species such as my own. What would you do with this world if you contested our claim? Preserve an entire habitable planet for one individual and his memories? Humankind was unimaginably destructive. Your comment suggests that in addition to unchecked aggression, unbridled greed was also encoded in its genes.”

Ruslan found the string of accusations disorienting. The Vrizan was trying to make him feel guilty about wanting to keep Earth from becoming home to another species. No wonder Abinahhs had been chosen to confront him. The alien’s forensic talents extended beyond linguistics.

“There is one thing that might persuade my government to abandon its claim, though you would have to deal separately with the Myssari and all other claimants. And were the Vrizan to withdraw, I assure you there would be others. One thing that we would regard as more valuable than this world.”

At first angry, then frustrated, Ruslan was now bewildered. “I don’t have anything to trade. Everything I have are gifts from the Myssari.”

“Then you affirm you are not a scientist, and avow you know nothing of the science of the great plague that exterminated your kind, or its origins?”

Shock replaced bewilderment. “Why on… Earth”—he had to smile at the irony inherent in his words—“would you want to know anything about the Aura Malignance? Even if I knew something about it, the details would be of no use to you. While I personally don’t know much beyond the fact that it destroyed my civilization and my species, I do know that the active vector affected only human beings. Not other mammals, not even close relatives like lesser primates. Only Homo sapiens. It would be useless to you.”

The elongated head turned directly toward the specimen. “You underestimate the capabilities of Vrizan science. Our biologists are very competent. A variant that could be held in reserve for use only as a final defensive weapon would be a potent deterrent against any threat to my species. Since we are a more mature race than humankind, such a development would be engineered so that it could pose no threat to us.”

Which meant, Ruslan realized, that any genetic manipulation of the Aura Malignance would be targeted against possible adversaries of the Vrizan. The Myssari, for example.

“I’m sure you have highly skilled experts in the field of biological warfare.” On arrival at the settlement the peaceful surroundings had lulled him into relaxing. That was gone now, the first stirrings of tranquility purged by Abinahhs’s alarming words. “Whatever you may think of us, it can’t be any worse than what we thought of ourselves. Arrogance was the end of humanity, not the plague.”

“Then we will be safe and all will be well.” Abinahhs was quietly reassuring. “The Vrizan are not arrogant.” Though the small tooth-lined mouth twisted slightly, Ruslan was not confident enough to call it a smile. “Loud at times, perhaps. Dynamic certainly. But not arrogant. Particularly dangerous research is carried out on quarantined artificial stations or otherwise uninhabited moons. In weapons research, isolation is the key to safety. Your kind forgot that.”

It was an observation with which Ruslan did not feel qualified to quarrel.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t help you reconstruct the Aura Malignance. Before society collapsed on my homeworld of Seraboth, I was a mid-level administrator. I’m only special genetically.” He touched the fingers of his left hand to the side of his head. “Up here I’m unremittingly ordinary.” Once again he had to decide on which of the Vrizan’s widely spaced eyes to focus. “You can imprison me, torture me, it doesn’t matter: I can’t give up information I don’t possess.”

Both of the Vrizan’s eyes rolled upward in their highly flexible sockets as Abinahhs’s tone wavered. “You think us so much less civilized than the Myssari that we would resort to such methods? I do not know whether to feel hurt or sadness.”

“The Myssari didn’t abduct me from Seraboth.”

The alien eyes returned to him. “It would have been preferred that you change your living arrangements voluntarily. I can assure you that this forced repositioning was not done lightly. In the end the desperate need of the Integument for a human’s insight into the history of your kind overrode all other considerations. Any possible knowledge of the workings of the great plague you might have possessed aside.”

Ruslan nodded sagely. “And if I refuse to cooperate in your researches into the history of my kind, what then? Will my refusal override all other considerations and ‘such methods’ of persuasion then come into play?”

Abinahhs was on the verge of replying when the ground shook. The decorative waterfall ceased flowing into the ornamental pool. Dust fell in slow motion from the ceiling as a shadow momentarily dimmed the illumination in the room. As light was restored the Vrizan replied to a comment in his own language that briefly sounded from an unseen source. Initially shaken, Ruslan now relaxed and allowed himself a slight smile.

“I don’t know who you’re talking to but I can guess. My friends have arrived.”

Speaking anew in Myssarian, a plainly disturbed Abinahhs stared at him. A second concussion rattled the chamber. “It is not possible for them to have found you so soon. All electronic emissions from the gear you carry are systematically blocked.”

Leaning back in the sandstone-hued but responsive seat, Ruslan shrugged. “I don’t know how they’ve done it either, and damn quick, too.” His smile widened. “The Vrizan aren’t the only ones who can boast of advanced technologies.”

With neither the Vrizan settlers and scientists nor the recent Myssari arrivals prepared for a military encounter, both sides were limited to deploying small arms intended only to repel dangerous terrestrial lifeforms. Escorted out of the research complex and onto the surface, Ruslan found himself wishing for a club, or better yet a spear. The nexus of a potential conflict, he was the only one who was defenseless.

In the center of the settlement’s scientific station, an artesian well tapped by the settlers supplied a rotating series of free-floating tubes. Water leaped from one suspended, brightly colored tube to another, arcs of liquid soaring through the air like wingless flying fish. He blinked at the brightness of sunlight that was harsher here than at the landing site chosen by the Myssari. How had they located him if, as an abashed Abinahhs claimed, the broadcast from his locator unit had been smothered?

The composure he had successfully maintained ever since his capture was shaken by the sight of Cherpa among the grim-faced Myssari who had come for him.

“Bogo!” She had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the harmonious rush of flying water. “Have they hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Brightly tinted, irregularly shaped hydrothermic tiles beneath his feet helped to cool the air around him. He looked to his left. Abinahhs was not armed, but the several dozen Vrizan who accompanied him were.

He wondered why they had brought him out of the underground reception room when they could have rushed him to some hidden cell. Then he realized that if the Myssari had managed to track him down so far from their landing site, they would likely have no trouble locating him within this single settlement. By bringing him out and showing that he was safe and unharmed, the Vrizan were being preemptive in defense of their actions. Justifying them, however, would require circumlocutions of logic he doubted would satisfy the Myssari. His friends would want him back. He smiled to himself. Even if they were for some reason amenable to a loan of some kind, a furious Cherpa was not going to permit it. One of the Myssari—through the intense sunlight it looked like Cor’rin—had to keep putting all three hands on the enraged young woman’s right forearm to keep her from drawing her sidearm.

“How did you find me?” he called out. The Myssari expedition’s second-in-command, an unusually tall and slender intermet named Jih’hune, stepped forward.

“It is a matter of some sensitivity and therefore questionable as to whether or not I am authorized to provide an explanation.”

Ruslan stared back. “Are you afraid of exposing something to the Vrizan?” Beside him, Abinahhs rippled an arm.

Jih’hune hesitated, then came to a decision on his own. “The sensitivity to which I refer involves you personally. It is not a question of technological exclusion. I was not instructed that you not be told. Merely that the information not be volunteered.”

“You’re not volunteering,” Ruslan snapped. “I’m asking.”

The intermet’s discomfort was increasing proportionate to the number of armed Vrizan who continued to arrive, but the group of tightly packed Myssari held their ground.

“When you were found on Seraboth, it was instantly recognized that Myssari science had acquired an invaluable asset. One my people would be distressed to lose.”

An impatient Ruslan waved the words away. “I’m reminded of my value daily. What has that got to do with how you found me?”

“Measures were taken during the initial medical examinations to ensure that what was found could not be lost.” When a still-bemused Ruslan did not comment, Jih’hune continued. His tone was not quite apologetic. “Your circulatory system was infused with a harmless but permanent biological marker. To the right equipment the unique signature is detectable even from high orbit. In any ecology you stand out, Ruslan. When you did not return from your last walk and we were unable to contact you, a call went out to our supply ship in orbit. With the landing site as locus, scans were performed in widening concentric circles until your personal identifier was finally located. It took some time; otherwise we would have arrived here sooner.” Looking past the human, the intermet glanced at Abinahhs.

“In the course of searching for our friend, we encountered the inadequately masked electronic signatures of your base here. That in turn rendered locating him much easier.”

From specimen to friend in a few sentences, Ruslan mused. The Myssari second-in-command was not untrained in the art of negotiation. Cherpa, on the other hand…

“Let him go or I’ll permanently divide the space between your eyes!” She continued to wrestle with Cor’rin as the Myssari researcher struggled to keep the human’s weapon holstered.

“We desired nothing more than a few moments of private conversation.” Once again Abinahhs’s strange mouth contorted. “Surely as Myssari you can appreciate that.”

Bac’cul stepped forward. Ruslan had not noticed him among the arrivals until now. “You have had more than enough time alone with our property, whose return we would now appreciate.”

So much for his brief sojourn as a “friend,” Ruslan thought. He was back to being a specimen again.

“As civilized beings,” Abinahhs replied smoothly, “you will appreciate that the ‘property’ may have an opinion of its own in this matter.” The elongated skull turned to face Ruslan. “I apologize for the method employed to bring you here. That need not affect your choice of destinies.” With one arm gesturing as sinuously as a snake swimming on the surface of a lake, he indicated the anxious Myssari. “Ruslan, you may return to whatever life they have provided for you. Or you can remain here, with us, and we will deed you a continent.”

He blinked. “Excuse me? A continent?”

“Whichever one you choose. It will be defined as your personal property. No Vrizan will set foot on it without your permission.” One limber hand waved at Cherpa. “This is the first we know of the existence of a mature human female. From my own personal studies of your kind, she would appear to be of breeding age. You could reseed your homeworld. We would be happy to assist.”

The growing tension on the Myssari side was palpable. Ruslan ignored it. He also volunteered nothing about the children already maturing on Myssar. “And what would you want in return?”

“To watch. To observe. To study how a species as bewildering as yours regenerates itself. To teach you and to learn from you.”

Ruslan considered. “What if I lay claim to the whole planet?”

Abinahhs was equally firm in denial. “You have no claim to it. Though it is the homeworld of your species, it has been devoid of sentient life for a considerable time and is therefore a legitimate site for colonization. You cannot even claim it as your personal home, as you come from another world entirely. The Integument is in a position to make good use of it. Without an immense and likely unavailable amount of direct assistance, you are unable to do so.”

“The Myssari could provide assistance as extensive as anything you can promise.”

Abinahhs made no attempt to deny it. “That is true. But they have no claim to this world. Not even an automatic survey drone has preceded this first visit of theirs. In any formal dispute between governments, they would be forced to contend with our conflicting and already well-established position.” Looking past Ruslan, he raised his voice. His Myssarian was perfectly intelligible.

“What of this matter, triploids? Will you dispute the Vrizan claim to this world? Will you fight for it?”

Jih’hune replied far more quickly than Ruslan would have liked.

“At this point in time we exert claim only to our friend, the human Ruslan. The Vrizan presence here has been noted. It will be discussed, but not here, now, or by us. As you are surely aware, as an expeditionary study force we hold no diplomatic portfolio.”

A stunned Cherpa turned to the Myssari who continued to exert a restraining grip on the young woman’s right arm. “What’s he saying? You’re giving the Vrizan the Earth?”

“We are giving them nothing.” The researcher looked as uncomfortable as she felt. “As Jih’hune declared, the matter will be discussed. By higher authorities than ourselves.” Turning her head ninety degrees, she indicated the now substantial crowd of armed Vrizan that had gathered to watch the confrontation. “It cannot be denied that they have a valid claim. This settlement is far more than a study outpost. As we slowed to land here I could see evidence of the beginnings of both agriculture and mining. Such developments declare their intentions far more unarguably than recorded words. And there may well be other such bases as this. It will be difficult to dislodge them.”

Blue eyes widened. “So you’re not going to fight for my homeworld?”

Cor’rin stiffened. “As you say, Earth is your homeworld. We would not fight for Daribb; we might do so for Seraboth. Colonization claims are much about precedence and the establishment of community. We can assert that for Ruslan’s homeworld but not for Daribb. And most assuredly not for Earth. It may be your ancient homeworld, but to the Combine as well as to the Vrizan it is only one more habitable world among hundreds. Valuable, yes. Worth fighting over, most likely not.” Removing one hand from Cherpa’s arm, she gestured at the Vrizan with the other two.

“As concerns Ruslan himself, I am not worried about their weapons. I am worried about their offer. By any standards it is generous.”

Setting aside for the moment any notions of interceding with violence, a suddenly concerned Cherpa joined the researcher in staring across the colorful pavement at the man who had been her mentor and who was, however indirectly, the father of her offspring.

“You don’t seriously—you don’t think Bogo will accept? Do you?”

“As I said: a generous offer. As we learned on Daribb, the Vrizan badly want access to the knowledge only a live human can give them. They need not have offered to do anything but match what we have provided. Instead, they have gone beyond that. What they have proposed is considerably more beguiling. A vast locale on the human homeworld itself where your kind might regenerate entirely free from all but requested and permitted outside help.”

“It doesn’t matter. He won’t accept.” Cherpa straightened. “I know Bogo. He’s going to turn them down.”

Small bright eyes regarded her from beneath inflexible bony brows. “How can you be so certain?”

“Because while Bogo may be human, he’s also become part Myssari.”

“I and my kind are flattered.” Cor’rin made a gesture rich with gratitude. But she did not take her third hand off Cherpa’s gun arm. “For discussion’s sake, though, if he should prove your assessment wrong, what will you do? Will you return with us to the outpost or will you go with him?”

Cherpa did not reply. It was a possibility she had not considered. It was one she did not want to consider.

The Myssari were silent, waiting. It was left to the gathering Vrizan to murmur and mutter among themselves. Only those who were members of the scientific community, led by Abinahhs, understood what was at stake. Having waited through an increasingly tense silence on the part of the human specimen, the Vrizan researcher was visibly relieved when Ruslan’s eyes finally turned back to him.

“You know,” Ruslan said calmly, “if you had never brought up the subject of learning the secrets of the Aura Malignance, I might seriously have considered accepting your offer.” He shook his head. “In contrast, no request of the sort was ever broached to me by the Myssari, not ever. It makes my choice easy.” So saying, he turned away and started across the open plaza that haloed the wonderful fountain. No Vrizan moved to stop him. Any one of them could have raised a weapon and easily brought him down, he knew. Shot or paralyzed him right in the back. He knew nothing of the sort would happen. However covetous of another species’ property, one did not risk damage to it if it happened to be an irreplaceable scientific specimen.

Pulling away from Cor’rin and separating herself from the band of armed Myssari, Cherpa slammed into him so hard and wrapped her arms around him so tightly that he nearly lost his footing.

“Bogo! I told Cor’rin you wouldn’t stay with the Vrizan. I told her!”

She was right, he knew, but perhaps not for the reasons she thought.

“So, I’m back.” Turning, he gently freed himself from her embrace. “Abinahhs! I want you and your kind off my homeworld. I want you to know that I’ll be working toward that end.”

The Vrizan gestured complacently. “And what of the Myssari? Do you wish them to leave this world as well? Or are you—exhibiting what I believe from my studies of the ancient human language is called ‘hypocrisy’—content to have them swarm here in numbers you wish to deny us?”

“That’s a matter to decide in the future,” he shot back.

Abinahhs was disappointed but not defeated. “By not you, or me, or any of the stone-faced triploids who now surround you with a perceptible air of greedy possessiveness. Until that decision is made, we will remain and continue with our proposed expansion here.” His gaze switched to the carefully watching Jih’hune. “Meanwhile the sexless one and the rest of his kind can stay, so long as their distant outpost makes no attempt to interfere with our progress and confines itself to work of a scientific nature. Whenever you find it unutterably boring, Ruslan, you and the female are welcome to visit us. With assurances you will be returned.”

Unable to stay silent any longer, one of the armed Myssari started to speak. “The assurances of the Vrizan are not—” Set upon by those next to him, he was quickly silenced by wiser, more experienced comrades. Much as they might have shared his suppressed sentiments, they could not permit the speaker’s independent action. Scientists did not start wars with settlers.

While his invaluable human charges were once more at ease in each other’s company, Jih’hune did not allow himself to relax until the transport once again set down safely within the perimeter that had been established by the Myssari around their expanding outpost. Kel’les was the first to greet his old human friend. Though the recovery sortie had been completely successful, it was a somber group who reported to the head of the expeditionary team.

As a senior explorer who had commanded more than a dozen primary expeditions to other worlds, Sat’shan was in every sense of the term world-weary. Nothing in her long career had prepared her for the situation in which she now found herself. Seated at a recently activated command station within the second of the landing team’s completed buildings, she contemplated the mix of human and Myssari assembled before her. Her first question was not directed at the salvaged specimen, nor intended for his equally irreplaceable female companion, nor even the accompanying researchers who specialized in human studies.

“Do you think they will try to mount a full-scale assault?” she asked her second-in-command directly.

“They have weapons,” Jih’hune informed her, “but from what I observed they are modest and intended for defense against the indigenous dangerous lifeforms. I saw nothing of a military nature.”

“From what you observed.” Sat’shan’s mind was working furiously: deliberating possibilities, making plans, considering and discarding options. “What about what you could not see?”

“There is no reason for them to have a significant military presence here,” her adjutant insisted. “There is nothing to defend save vast expanses of empty land and numerous archeological sites. The latter are surely of interest, but hardly worth the outlay of a military commitment.”

Unless one of your aims is to discover the workings of the most devastating biological weapon ever utilized in this arm of the galaxy. For now Ruslan chose to keep that information to himself. He did not wish to spark undue panic among the Myssari, much less do anything that might ignite an actual conflict.

“You speak sense.” The outpost commander was in agreement. “If they wished to forcibly contest possession of the specimen Ruslan, they would have done so within the familiar confines of their settlement. Indeed, they likely would have tried to prevent your transport from landing. Your preliminary report describes their settlement as extensive.”

Three arms gestured as one. “Even cursory scans suggest it is intended to provide permanent support for colonists numbering in the thousands. It is likely there are similar projects under way elsewhere on the planetary surface.” The intermet indicated the silent male human. “Ruslan says that the Vrizan plan to lodge a formal claim to possession of the planet and to develop it as a full-fledged colony.”

“That is distressing. The Sectionary will be displeased.” Sharp yellow-orange eyes regarded both humans. “It would be natural for you to be distraught at this development. I can understand if not feel your pain. This is your ancestral homeworld.”

Ruslan stepped forward. “I know it doesn’t make sense, logically. Our connection”—he nodded toward Cherpa—“to this world is only through history and sentiment. We were both born on other worlds. But the connection, however tenuous, exists. It is there, in our minds and in our hearts. Is there anything short of war the Combine can do to stop the Vrizan from turning Earth into a colony of theirs?”

“Their claim can of course be contested. Jih’hune says that the Vrizan offered the pair of you an entire continent to develop as your own. Doubtless they feel by the time you could reproduce sufficiently to populate even a small community, they will have expanded across the rest of the planetary surface to a degree that would render any future claims by a resurgent humankind pointless. It is plain they do not know about the reproductive program for your kind that has begun on Myssar. Human reproduction by natural methods is slow, it is true. The Sectionary’s program will produce offspring far faster.”

She almost added, “than you two,” but caught herself. It was widely known that while they demonstrated varying degrees of affection toward one another, the two human specimens before her had declined to engage in actual reproductive activity. Myssari cultural sensitivity demanded that the subject be avoided unless mention of it otherwise proved necessary.

“The program, under your supervision, will grow the human population of Earth far faster than the Vrizan realize. Whether it will grow fast enough to deter them from their own plans only future developments can answer.”

Cherpa had been silent long enough. “It would improve the prospect if you’d kill the lot of them.”

Taking the junior specimen’s comparative youth into consideration, Sat’shan leavened her reply with characteristic politeness.

“You are impulsive. A deeply rooted human trait that has not always stood your species in good stead. The Combine would never agree to go to war with the Vrizan over a world to which their adversaries have a prior and better claim. In the name of science, not affairs of state, the Sectionary will do all it can to support the regeneration and repatriation of your species here. But there will be no fighting. Too many worlds full of life clamor for support to risk skirmishing over one that reeks of death. You will have to fight the plans of the Vrizan with ethics and argument.”

Cherpa muttered under her breath, “I’d rather have a lot of guns.”

Sat’shan was not moved. “We will go through the steps of contesting the Vrizan claim via diplomatic channels. It may slow but likely will not halt their work here. Perhaps they may find it unworthy of extensive investment. History is spotted with instances of one species laying claim to a world not in order to develop it for themselves but simply to deny it to others. We will see if that is how they feel about your Earth.” She turned away from Cherpa and looked at Ruslan.

“I am glad you are safely returned to us, Ruslan. Kel’les will, as always, see to your needs and those of your companion. I request only that you engage in no additional unescorted jaunts, no matter how tempting the surroundings. If you wish to explore further, a driftec and driver will be put at your disposal. I am sure Bac’cul, Cor’rin, and the rest of the scientific detachment will be more than pleased to accompany you on any excursions you care to propose. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have an outpost to organize and complex communications to prepare for transmission.”

Outside, Cherpa walked alongside Ruslan as they made their way toward the portion of the residential quarters that had been allotted to them. “What do you think, Bogo? Can anything stop the settlers from making Earth a colony of Vriza? Can we?” She looked outward, toward the silent abandoned city. “Can our offspring?”

Lost in thought, Ruslan didn’t reply immediately. Pondering her queries, he realized he did not know the answers. But one thing he did know. For some time now he had grown bored with existence. His mind was tired, his body was worn, his spirit was exhausted. Now, here on Earth, he felt rejuvenated. For that he had the Vrizan to thank. They had offered him a continent but they had given him something far more vital.

A cause.