Moonstruck. Part 8

grievances, de-alerting its missiles, reducing its weapons of ma.s.s destruction. Stepping away from the nuclear brink . . .

Since she'd been excluded from the broadcasts, which had not been a long time, much of that progress

had been reversed. The latest reports made clear that tensions had ratcheted up again. The airwaves were

full of threats and dangerous bravado.An even bigger shock was the other story that dominated the human media: the visit of the Galactics. Other starfarers had arrived at about the same time as the Consensus. Earth was being appraised for membership in some interstellar commonwealth. Earth's evaluators were welcomed everywhere, lured by the promise of the Galactics' fusion technology to those nations that cooperated.

The Krulirim had had interstellar travel for generations, without encountering a people as capable as themselves-not even, until now, anyone as advanced as the humans. Some intelligent species had failed to exit the Stone Age. Those that had achieved higher technology universally reversed course, living pathetically amid the mysterious and often deadly ruins of their own former greatness.

The Galactic species touring and inspecting Earth bore no resemblance to any intelligent race known to Krulchukor science. A recognizable offshoot of an otherwise self-destructive race would have made some sense, would have been satisfying to her. That wasn't the case-the F'thk were totally unknown. If she couldn't account for this one species, what explanation could there be for the appearance of a whole multispecies federation?

And while the F'thk were all over the humans' news, she saw not one Krul.

How could it be that she'd overheard nothing, from anyone on the Consensus, of the supposed impossible: starfarers of a species other than their own?In her confusion, she almost forgot to reemerge from the lifeboat to continue her zookeeper duties. The trilling alarm of her pocket clock saved her. She would surely have died of disappointment and curiosity if, deception discovered, she again lost touch with events on Earth. She programmed the lifeboat's computer to record selected topics and sources for her, then reluctantly returned to the cargo hold.

With renewed feelings of guilt, Swelk arranged for the unexplained ailment to spread to two other Girillian species. She needed lots of time unsupervised.

* * * "Captain." Swelk tipped her torso toward Grelben respectfully, carefully keeping her bad limb behind her, out of his line of sight. Stretching the shortened limb this way was painful, but normals took hiding of her infirmity as a sign of respect.

Experimentation had shown that he was least antagonistic when they were away from the humans. They were in Earth orbit now. "May I have a moment of your time, sir?"

His olfactory organs wrinkled. "Make it quick. You stink of those foul creatures in the hold." "My apologies, sir." The b.a.s.t.a.r.d: having paid for her pa.s.sage, she was doing the work his crew found too objectionable. That was unimportant and by her own design; she tamped down the irrelevant thought, unexpressed. "I wondered about your contacts with the humans. Was I right? Does it look like

they will succeed?"

"It does not seem so. In fact, they are moving quickly towards blowing themselves up." He flexed an extremity. The expression was thoughtful, yes, but also implied something else. Antic.i.p.ation? "At least this bunch will be remembered better than most. We'll have records of what they accomplished and how it ended."

There was a time when Swelk would have accepted Grelben's statements without question. Growing up a freak, her defects a cause for comment by every pa.s.serby, she often hid herself away. Still, as unskilled as were her interpersonal skills, his comments failed to ring true.

"So we will do more than save copies of their own broadcasts?" The two eyes turned toward her narrowed in momentary suspicion, then relaxed. Though Grelben's inability to see Swelk as an equal served her purposes, she fumed inwardly. Underestimating the freak was a too-common reaction.

"Rualf's troupe is making additional recordings with their own equipment. We may also be able to save

some human artifacts."

"Then I guess we're doing everything we can." His eyes narrowed briefly again before once more rejecting the possible double meaning.

That her words could have a double meaning-despite not knowing what that second denotation could be-was a chilling confirmation of her darkest fears.

* * * The hastily programmed data filter had worked well: Swelk's next visit to the lifeboat was rewarded with an eye-popping collection of television intercepts.

The presence of the Galactics changed the bigger picture. It would be tragic if the humans, so close to achieving maturity, self-destructed, but her bigger dream was intact. The Galactics, wherever they came from, had obviously attained social maturity. Here was companionship for the Krulirim. Here were alternative body forms, and intelligences who would have no reason to disparage what to them would surely be Swelk's very minor differences.

More than anything, she ached to visit the Galactic mother ship. The human media seemed every bit as fascinated with it as she; telescopic views of the habitat-sized vessel were backdrop to many news broadcasts. The lifeboat's computer did the conversion from human units of measurement: the s.p.a.cecraft waiting in orbit around Earth's moon was enormous, as large as Krulchuk's own third-largest moon. The object's perfectly burnished surface, bristling with countless antennae and hatches, made plain that this was an artificial structure.

The human media seemed never to tire of covering F'thk visits to Earth's cities. Those visits, she first thought, came in approximate order of political importance. Coverage of Earth's other major story, the slide toward nuclear war, corrected her impression. The F'thk ship was frequenting, in approximate order of destructive capability, the capitals of Earth's declared and suspected nuclear powers.

An insistent alarm recalled her again to her duties at slopping the animals and hosing down feces-covered decks. "Just one more video," she promised herself, resetting the timepiece to extend her stay briefly. It was a good decision: the next item in the queue was coverage of the initial F'thk visit to a city called Teheran.

Unlike the Galactic mother ship, the F'thk landing ship was of a scale with which Swelk could identify. Using individuals in the welcoming crowd for scale, she decided that the F'thk vessel was somewhat smaller than the interstellar pa.s.senger ship on which she had begun her grand tour. That vessel, the Unity, was her standard of reference; shuttle-crew hostility had kept her in her cabin on approach to the in-orbit, about-to-depart Consensus.

The F'thk gave speeches. Dark-skinned humans with facial hair gave speeches. A nondescript Hovercraft deployed from the ship to deliver a kiosk of some sort to an Iranian park. The F'thk spokesperson operated the machine, extracting and distributing ceremonial objects of some sort. She fast-forwarded: long after the dignitaries left, ma.s.ses of people queued up for the souvenirs.

Her alarm chimed again, and this time she dared not wait. She closed the lifeboat behind her and returned to the unaccustomed physical labor that made so much possible for her.

* * * Though the knowledge had been slow in coming, Swelk had learned to recognize Rualf's correct manners as a manifestation of his art and a disguise for his contempt. Now Swelk would test her own skills of deception. The next time the actor summoned her to discuss a bit of intercepted video, Swelk was sensitized for any evidence or clues, no matter how veiled.

She tipped her sensor stalks one way after another, as if the flat image would reveal new information from the various perspectives. Play the fool. "I recognize the human behind the desk. He is often in the material you show me. Who is he?"

"The leader of their most powerful subdivision. He is called the President."

"And these others?"

"Advisors of the President. Now listen." Rualf repeated the video.

She listened carefully to the recording, then asked for a replay. "This subdivision, this country, feels

threatened by another called Russia. Those sound like alternative nuclear-warfare strategies under

review."

"Certainly," said Rualf, his tone indicating impatience. Belaboring the obvious was not why he deigned to deal with her. And if nuclear-strike planning was under way, then the horrible crisis that Swelk dreaded could be almost upon the humans.

"My question, Rualf, is this: why would they broadcast such stuff? Detailed planning for an all-out war is surely meant to be secret."

"This is not from a broadcast," Rualf conceded.

"I am astonished they would discuss these matters in front of visiting Krulirim, or allow you to record them."

Rualf was silent for a long time; Swelk wondered if her probing had been too overt. Boastfulness eventually defeated caution. "These are not matters they would care to discuss in front of outsiders." He whistled sharply in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Did you hear what I said? In front. I've been dealing with these absurd creatures for too long.

"Never mind that, you are right-and since you recognized this isn't a human video, I may as well make it easier to view." He adjusted a control, changing the presentation to 3-D, then rewound toward the midpoint of the recording. "Here. See that crystalline sphere in a bowl on a metallic base on the President's desk? We give those spheres out as gifts all over Earth, especially to the decision makers. The images we are watching are from another such globe elsewhere in his office.

"It's a pa.s.sive audiovisual recording device. Periodically we scan their major cities with steerable microwave beams. The microwaves provide momentary power to the devices to upload whatever they've recorded."

Rualf misunderstood her dumfounded look. "I'm not surprised that you never encountered these gadgets.

We use them all the time in making 3-V films, but moviemaking is the only way I've ever seen them used."

She had seen such objects, however. The surrept.i.tious Krulchukor bugging device was one of the souvenirs manufactured by the Galactic Friendship Stations and distributed by the F'thk.

CHAPTER 12.

Somehow Swelk maintained her composure long enough to complete the conversation with Rualf. She limped to her cabin, too attentive to her own thoughts to take notice of the crew's taunts.The F'thk were distributing bugging devices, which Rualf implied were Krulchukor technology. Data from those devices were being exploited by the officers and other pa.s.sengers of the Consensus. Conspirators, she decided was the correct and much shorter term. Either the conspirators were in league with the F'thk, or the conspirators were the F'thk. In either case, what could possibly be the purpose of the conspiracy?

Dropping wearily onto her sleep cushion, she could not decide which theory was the more unimaginable.

Of all the group she now labeled conspirators, none but Rualf could for any length of time disguise his repugnance for her deformities. Their distaste was equally plain for the alien intelligences previously discovered by the Krulirim. How could they possibly be cooperating with the F'thk? Look at their att.i.tude toward the humans. It all seemed so psychologically unlikely.

But the alternative was not physically possible. How could the F'thk be Krulirim?And yet, how could the F'thk not be the Krulirim? The human media showed no other aliens.A gurgling stomach reminded her that she had missed the last two meals. Swelk dug through a stockpile of prepackaged rations she kept in her room, her company in the galley of the Consensus seldom being appreciated by her shipmates. What a delightfully uncomplicated pleasure: to pick some food and eat it. So few of the concepts swirling through her mind were ever simple anymore. Certainly, none were pleasant.

The practicality of her task brought a fresh perspective. There was at least one variable that she could eliminate, with no subterfuge required. She called up the ship's library and located a picture of the ship in which she sat chewing.

Despite her suspicions, she almost choked at the hologram that appeared. Either the F'thk landing ship was the Consensus, or the F'thk had found its clone.

* * * No clone: some of the broadcasts stored in the data banks of the lifeboat were real-time reports of F'thk landings. Timestamps for those recordings matched what Swelk knew to be landings of the Consensus. Even physical locations matched.

Everything was consistent . . . and everything inexplicable. And what, if anything could or should be done about it?

* * * "You have got to help me, Rualf." The entertainer peered dubiously at Swelk. She had just been quite useful in interpreting one of the odder broadcasts from Earth. "Help you with what? If you refer to your issues with the crew, sorry-I will not get in the middle of that."

A dip of her sensor stalks suggested, You can't blame me for trying. The shrug was a deception, something for Rualf to reject so that a lesser request might be granted in consolation. "I suppose not. I need distraction, is all. There is a great deal of nuance to Girillian dung, at least for someone with my level of expertise, but I have almost exhausted the possibilities."

"What did you have in mind?" His stance conveyed guardedness.

"You and your friends, your troupe. You make movies, correct?"

"Of course." The posture relaxed. He knew all about dealing with fans. All fans were odd-their

strangeness was just not usually so visually evident.

"Well," she tipped toward him respectfully, "I've never actually known anyone in the entertainment field. I wondered if you had recordings of some of your troupe's films that I could borrow to view in my room.""Wait here." He popped into his cabin, returning with a standard computer storage cube. "Enjoy.""Oh, I'm sure that I will find your work very interesting." He did not seem to take note of the potential difference between interest and enjoyment. * * * The swampbeasts had come to trust Swelk, humphing in welcome when she arrived, hanging their heads sadly when she left. The show of affection deepened her guilt without altering her resolve-and caused her to shift the food tampering to another pair of creatures. So far those large limbless crawlers showed no signs of eliciting her sympathies. She limped from cage to tank to stall, cleaning up the various messes. Despite her eagerness to see what new uncensored information awaited in the lifeboat, she took pleasure in her task. It was nice to be appreciated, even if only by a swampbeast. She stroked their fur carefully with a long-handled brush, bringing forth more contented humphs. Even the hold's smell was becoming familiar.

Or was it abating? That would be bad, stench being the main guarantor of her privacy. Steeped in shame, she synthesized fresh batches of nutritionally deficient animal fodder. For good measure, she spilled some feces near the hold's main door, to be sure to track some into the corridor later.

The lifeboat computer kept selecting more broadcast material than she had the time to review. She sampled and skimmed, without obtaining answers to what was, in her mind, the biggest question: why did the Consensus pretend to be what it was not?

Swelk whistled softly to herself in amus.e.m.e.nt: the beasts she tended were always themselves-and the only beings on board to enjoy her presence. If the humans did not destroy themselves, would she be allowed to establish a relationship with some of them?

A foolish notion, but it suggested another. The conspiracy she suspected, its form still obscure, its purpose unknown, seemed too much for her alone to uncover. There were, however, countless humans. Did any of them have doubts? If such could be found, could she and they somehow help each other?

She reconfigured the lifeboat's broadcast search to select information on anyone who had expressed skepticism about Earth's interstellar visitors, then returned to her duties in the hold.

* * * Without enthusiasm, Swelk accessed the index on Rualf's data cube. It turned out to contain three-squared and three movies. Searching them for clues, to exactly what, she could not even guess, would take a while.

Sooner started, sooner finished. She told the computer to run through all the contents in storage order. Most of the actors she recognized from shipboard encounters, not only Rualf: the same group, as typical for Krulirim, had worked together for a long time. That did not mean that she could put names to them; many of the troupe ignored her. She fell asleep to the quiet drone of the third film. Like the stories that had preceded it, this movie involved a perfect character who had lapsed into the slightest bit of individuality, becoming unhappy and stressed as a result. Even Krulirim were not as variety-free as these films suggested. Creativity and exploration require initiative, even if the common culture chose not to recognize it. What boring drivel . . . Sleep was a vulnerable time for any Krul, slumber's sensory shutdown in such utter contrast to normal awareness in all directions at once. No one could sneak up on one of her kind-except in her dreams.

* * * Krulchuk was a planet with active plate tectonics, its interior kept hot by the slow decay of an overabundance of thorium and uranium. Without that internal energy source, Krulchuk would have been inhospitable to life, as far as it was from its sun. Without the high background radiation, the evolution of its unlikely life would have been much different. And without the constant upwelling of magma, first driving the continental plates apart and then reuniting them in tremendous convulsions, and the attendant shifts in oceanic circulation, Krulchuk would not have experienced regular cycles of ice ages and warming. Multicellular life arose soon after one such breakup of a temporarily unified mega-landma.s.s. The continents that resulted drifted separately for eons, each a laboratory for evolution, before they next crashed together. The distant ancestors of the Krulirim were suddenly in a fight for survival with the offspring of a different path: bilaterally symmetric creatures. The trilateral ultimately prevailed; the bilateral disappeared without a trace until Krulchukor science discovered the fossils of the vanquished monsters.

A few scientists whispered that a random metabolic mutation within the trilateral phylum better suited them to Krulchuk's next ice age. Their theory, that trilateralism itself was not inherently superior, remained controversial.

Whatever had caused the great die-out of the bilats, their fossils were an immediate sensation, instantly recognized by some primitive underbrain survivor of that dawn-of-time struggle. The unnatural beings that sometimes appeared to Krulirim in their vulnerable dream states suddenly were of nature, and more frightening than ever.