Quozl (27 page)

“How long has this been going on?” That from the Master of Burrow Four. It was not necessary to explain what he meant by the question.

How easily this could have been avoided, Runs thought. He remembered making his usual hike, enjoying questions and a multi-day visit with his human friends, and then returning. Remembered opening his concealed hatch and firing his harness line across the shaft, climbing out and preparing to close the hatch prior to swinging across the gap.

Only to look down and see an entire shaft cleaning crew staring back up at him, dangling from their own harnesses. They'd been engaged in a silent meditation break, until the noise of his activity made them look up. A human would never have heard or sensed his presence, but four sets of Quozl ears had detected him immediately.

He could not flee multiple witnesses. As he hung helplessly in harness, several powerful work lights caught his face, locking his features in the crew's memory. After that there was nothing for him to do but cooperate.

He harbored no delusions about his future as he replied to the question.

“For a while.”

“Don't hedge with me!” The others present eyed the Master of Burrow Four approvingly. In the privacy of the chamber they could be as impolite as they felt. “Generalities will not save you. I want details.”

Runs kept his head down. “I do not mean to evade.”

“Anger I could deal with,” said the Burrow Master. “Hatred I could understand. I could cope with frustration or even simple insanity. But for one to endanger all the Burrows through sheer stupidity and greed, that I have difficulty comprehending.” Though he spoke calmly he could not entirely mask his suppressed rage.

“I apologize for everything, inconsequential though that may be.” Runs looked up at the Burrow Master. “I have visited the surface each warm season for the past four cycles.”

He was ready for the guarded inhalations, the involuntary whistles of astonishment his revelation produced. They'd suspected, from study of his handiwork, but they could not be certain of the time frame. Now he had quietly confirmed their worst fears.

No, he told himself. Confirmation of those was yet to come.

“For so long.” The Master of Burrow Two looked resigned. “You must have learned a great deal about the surface world.” Instead of replying verbally, Runs-red-Talking acknowledged with subtle adjustments of both ears. “You must have acquired much knowledge. Not to mention these.”

He held out a handful of small objects. Given their easy disposability, Runs had felt fairly safe in bringing them back with him. But his room had been searched before he'd been allowed to return to it, following his apprehension, and they had been discovered. The items in question were not of Quozl manufacture.

“Where did you get these and what are they?”

“Human food.” Runs did not answer the first half of the question.

It was a feeble attempt at delay. “Which you found in your travels, I suppose?” Runs did not reply. If they would deal in their own assumptions he might yet be saved.

One did not become a Burrow Master by proceeding on assumptions. “We have run some preliminary correlations with the surface study section.” He carefully placed the bags of potato chips and cheezos to one side. “It is just possible that such perishables might remain undisturbed on the surface long enough for you to find them untouched.” He displayed a cluster of globular fruits attached to a complex set of stems.

“These, however, were found unprotected by artificial vacuum. Through exhaustive study of Shirazian lifeforms we are familiar with these. I am told they are called grapes. Our specialists assure me that if anything like this was to be left exposed on the surface for more than a few moments the local fauna would rapidly consume it. Yet these are untouched.” He placed the grapes alongside the three bags of junk food.

“Each of these flexible containers is stained with oils acquired from recent contact with human skin. Are you going to ask us to believe that you simply wandered into an unoccupied native camp and helped yourself? You have been careful, but everything you were wearing at the time of your apprehension has been subjected to the most intense scrutiny. Similar oils were found on the straps of your shoulder pack. These were compared chemically to the oils on the packaging. They match.

“From this we must infer that you have had a personal encounter with humans. I would give away all that I possess including my life to be told this is not so.” Still Runs held his peace, forcing the Burrow Master to proceed to the inevitable. “You may tell us the truth now, for what that may be worth to you. If we doubt, you will be subjected to encouraging varieties of sedation.”

That was it, then, Runs knew. If they didn't believe him they would inject him with drugs under whose influence he would tell all. By doing so voluntarily now he might retain a minimal amount of status. Self-consciously he adjusted his attire. It would not do to look bad while confessing.

“There were two humans involved.”

“Only two?” inquired another Burrow Master quickly.

“Only two. Both young adults, male and female siblings.”

“Two young adults traveling by themselves so near our valley?”

Runs acted to defuse their skepticism. “They do not travel alone, and they have come nowhere near the colony site. I meet with them three valleys to the east. I can show you the place on a surface map.

“There is one native family, two parents and these two offspring, who,” he struggled to translate a unique human concept, there being no Quozl word for “vacation,” “regularly visit this region in the warm season for an annual meditation time. The same four come every cycle. The same four, and no others.”

“How can you be certain of that?” asked someone Runs did not know.

“Because I am assured of it by my human friend Chad.”

“And you believe him?” inquired another.

“Through four cycles of contact I have had no reason to doubt anything he has told me, so I see no reason to doubt this.”

“You have then engaged in contact for four cycles?”

“Longer than that.” Why hold anything back now? Runs asked himself. “Chad and I first met when we were both juveniles. That was ten cycles ago.”

“Yes, that incident is recorded. Surveillance on you should never have been relaxed, but you gave every indication of having been healed. That mistake cannot be rectified. See what the cost has been!”

“You are all so afraid.” Runs kept his head up. They could not think less of him no matter how he acted now.

Someone else he didn't recognize spoke, ignoring the challenge implicit in his posture.

“So you have had annual contact with two humans via your own illegal exit—which of course has been permanently sealed—for four cycles?”

“I was meditating on the surface instead of in chambers.”

“Your comparison fails. What have you and your humans talked of?”

Runs saw that the speaker held high status with the surface studies section. She was leaning forward intently, both ears pointed straight at Runs.

“What do they know of the colony?”

“Very little. They know of its existence and that it is home to more than one Quozl. They know we live underground but not where.”

“It is enough,” mumbled another representative of the scientific community. “Since first we settled on Shiraz the natives have made many advances. If they know we are in this vicinity they now possess instruments capable of locating us.”

“No,” a colleague objected politely. “We can build devices which will fool their detection equipment.”

“It doesn't matter.” Runs spoke hastily. Let them think him lacking in the social graces. They could not think worse of him than they did already. “Both young humans are sympathetic as well as intelligent. My relationship with the young male in particular is very close. I have spoken often of the need for maintaining secrecy about our existence here and they concur. They will not speak of us to anyone else. In that I am confident.”

“Well, then,” declared the Master of Burrow Two, “we can all relax, can't we? If the renegade Runs-red-Talking is confident, what have we to worry about?”

“Nothing is certain,” Runs countered.

“Do not quote the Samizene to me, you pouchless worm!” The Burrow Master half rose in her seat. Taking note of the aghast expressions on her colleagues' faces she slowly sat back down. “I apologize. Forgive me my outburst. I am ashamed.”

It was not her feelings she was ashamed for, of course. Everyone else in the room harbored similar feelings toward Runs-red-Talking. But she had spoken violently, had let the primitive Quozl within take momentary control. When proceedings resumed, the atmosphere in the room was more solemn than ever.

“I can only say,” Runs told them, “that my friend Chad has revealed nothing of our existence in the four cycles I have spoken with him. His parents do not know, nor do his friends, much less the authorities.”

One of the other Burrow Masters commented emotionlessly. “If that is truth, then could we not ensure our future safety by eliminating these only two humans who are aware of us.”

The highest-ranking philosopher present spoke quickly, preempting Runs's ready reply. Runs had previously considered the same argument, but it was better to have one of his peers deal with it instead.

“Morality aside,” the Elder Quozl said firmly into the attentive silence, “we would be murdering two intelligent, warm-blooded beings who have done us no harm. They are guilty of nothing. Potential for damage is insufficient reason for killing. Were they to disappear they would surely be sought after by their parents. This is an abomination that cannot seriously be considered.”

“Their sire pilots aircraft. He would surely be missed,” Runs added. “The location of their meditation site is well known to friends and relations.”

“I would consider it nonetheless.” Burrow Master Leader spoke for the first time. “If we could be certain beforehand of complete success. But as our insane citizen so astutely reminds us, nothing is certain. Against that we have his insistence that these two young natives will not speak of us to others of their kind. Consider also: if we somehow succeeded in carrying out their elimination and it was discovered by the natives that we had committed such a deed, how would they react? Among themselves they sometimes tolerate murder, but I do not think they would react favorably to the knowledge that we had done so. I firmly believe that under such circumstances we could never make peace with them.” He gazed down at Runs.

“What will happen if you never meet with these two humans again? Will they grow discouraged and forget you?”

“They might. They may also try to find me, fearing that I have suffered injury. I have never been so late for a rendezvous before.”

Burrow Master Leader picked at something in his fur. “I was afraid you would say that. Humans are curious. Their persistence is still a matter of some debate. Regardless, we must deal with the fact that there are two of them who know of the colony's existence. I wonder how long they will refrain from telling others what they know without you to constantly remind them of the need for continued silence?”

“Are you suggesting, I ask this with utmost respect,” said one of the other Burrow Masters, “that we permit this contact to
continue
?”

“While we decide how to deal with it, yes. Make no mistake: I disapprove of what has occurred as strenuously as anyone. But it has happened. That is fact. We must cope with the consequences. Wishes are fulfilled only during meditation. This is reality. It is a critical moment in our time on Shiraz and we must deal with it through reason, not desire.” He looked back at the center of the room and said, utterly unexpectedly, “While we do that, you may leave.”

Runs-red-Talking blinked. “Leave? Just—leave, Honored Elder?”

“Return to your work. Engage in some true meditating, at which you are sadly deficient. I do not need to speak of what will happen to you if you attempt to reach the surface.”

The disbelieving Runs sat a moment longer, wondering if he ought to compose a speech of thankfulness. Then he realized he was not being exonerated, only excused until such time as final decisions were made. In some respects that was harder for him to deal with than an actual sentence. Possibly, he thought as he rose to depart, this was to be part of his punishment, leaving him to go on living as normally as possible knowing all the while that at any time his life might be forfeit.

But the Burrow Master Leader had talked of letting him continue contact. Could he live on hope if nothing else?

As he rose, the Elders and Burrow Masters and representatives of the scientific staff continued to argue among themselves. He was ignored completely, a sure sign of dismissal. Dismissed to return to work, to friends, to coupling and meditation. He departed in a daze.

Of his earlier escort there was no sign, but he did not delude himself. Dismissed he'd been, but hardly forgotten. He knew he was being watched. Let him stray however honestly near a ventilation shaft and his perilous freedom would come to a rapid end.

Humans would have treated one of their own who'd done such a thing very differently. They were never able to live up to their own ideals. A vast gap existed in human civilization between what they believed and how they acted. It was a gap that Quozl could help fill, if someday that was permitted.

Human history suggested that they tended to exterminate their own best thinkers. It was as if they could not stand the beauty inherent in their own thoughts. Compared to the average human, Runs-red-Talking was stable.

His hopes were certainly premature. The Council might still opt to find a mechanism whereby they could justify killing him and his human friends. He prayed for the Burrow Masters and the Elders, with whom any final decision would rest, to spend much time in meditation.