The Presence had a refreshingly positive outlook. Much as I preferred it, I’d Paul to concern me. The Human stood out, an ominous shadow to these eyes, and I made sure to keep his hand in mine. “The Vlovax is intelligent and benign,” I told him quickly. “Able to communicate clearly and display emotion.”

  With worry.

  “It’s worried by my describing it.”

 

  “I’m sorry. My describing ‘us.’” I managed a helpless shrug. “My head’s a bit full at the moment.”

  “You said benign. Are you sure?”

 

  The sense that came with good influence was one of profound respect, even affection. I wanted to smile. In response, my beaklike nose glowed, making me try to cross my eyes to see it. “We approve of you,” I said to Paul.

  He ran a hand through his hair and I didn’t need to see his eyes, shadowed to this sight, to know they’d hold that exasperated fondness. If we’d been alone, he’d have launched into questions.

  We were not.

  As for those who lived here?

  They were beautiful. The striping of their skin in sunlight was here reversed, what was pale now a deep gray, the dark flushed with glowing violet. The fabric of their clothing emitted subtle sparks of what I perceived as white, creating elegant patterns particularly around the join of shoulder to neck that housed—I could think of no better word—their Vlovax. Dead or alive.

  Clothing! I let go of Paul’s hand and snatched up the strips I’d brought, holding them in front with no idea how to dress.

  Purple flashed along their noses.

  “I don’t know—” I stopped, because the amused purple disappeared with my first word. “Can you tell them I don’t understand?”

 

  A Mareepavlovax taller than me—taller than Paul—came forward from the rest, uttering a sequence of high and low trills.

  “What does he say?”

 

  Skalet’s name for me.

  I knew her deep, abiding despair, to be subordinate yet responsible. She did her best for our Web, in her blunt, callous way, and now I realized with a sinking feeling why she’d sent me here without warning. Learn, Youngest.

  The Presence’s cheerful came a little close for comfort.

  * * *

  Two Mareepavlovax and Paul, whom they treated without noticeable difference, helped wrap my torso and upper limbs. Against this skin, the material was irritating and scratchy. Clothing or their version of funeral shrouds? Not a happy thought.

  Not a happy place, despite the irrepressible joy of the Presence. I saw grim lines around Paul’s mouth. Understood them. Had the Dokeci done this?

  The Dokeci were waiting, along with Evan and the Humans. I needed to know more.

  Wistfully.

  Start simple, I decided. I pointed to Paul, enjoying the suppleness of my four digits. “Paul.” I touched my chest. “Esen.”

  More trills. The two who’d dressed me consulted a third, the tall individual who’d spoken first. When they were done, he faced me and said in passable comspeak: “Not Esen only.”

  So, simple it wasn’t. I hoped they weren’t like the Iftsen, who added the names of their ancestors to their own and recited them in rhyming couplets as a party game. Taking a guess, I touched my Vlovax. “Do you have a name of your own?”

  Confusion.

  “May I give you a name and add it to mine?”

  With such innocent delight I felt a pang of guilt for not taking this as seriously as perhaps I should.

  What did I call a creature hanging from me by its fang—which didn’t hurt at all, come to think of it, though Paul had insisted on wiping blood from my back.

  Dart?

  No. Whatever the Presence was, I couldn’t name it after a monster. If anything, it deserved to be named after something unexpectedly precious—something you’d be surprised to find inside an ominous exterior. A pearl. I liked it, not that my feelings mattered when it came to a workable syntax. “If I call you Pearl, together we could be Pearlesen. Is that a good name?”

  Wonderingly.

  “We can hope, Pearl.” I repeated my gesture, hand to my chest, and said to the tall Mareepavlovax, “Pearlesen.”

  He pursed his lips and gave a short, sharp whistle, the small beak of his nose glowing with what I took for approval—or good humor. Suddenly the air filled with complex trills and even a few shouted “Pearlesen!”

  Fair enough. I’d a name for this me they’d accept. Now to figure out the rest. I looked to Paul, waiting for me to do just that. He was calm, though surrounded by aliens—living and dead—the lantern’s dim glow all he had against what to him would be the dark and to this me, a world lit by those in it. Calm, and I knew curious. Above all, wise.

  “Paul?”

  He gave the slightest nod of his head toward the row of corpses. The living Mareepavlovax appeared to ignore them, except for those who sat with them, as if waiting their turn.

  Understand this first, he meant.

  I’d a clue, perhaps. I addressed the tall individual. “We understand your speech,” I told him, though it was a good bet he knew that already. “Why am I the Youngest?”

  His four-fingered hands moved in the first overt gesturing I’d seen thus far, as if collecting all those present, to end at me. Then he trilled. It was like listening to a Human flute, the notes as able to convey grief as joy.

  “Pearl, tell me what he says.”

  Completion

  BELIEF fills me.

  The Esen is perfection. She is all I require and more. I, who am now of Pearlesen!

  I hope only to be worthy.

  She asks me to interpret, being so young and new she has not acquired language. Though she is not young or new and has language of her own. I enjoy being part of someone so special.

  I see through her eyes, for mine, burnt and useless, no longer trouble me. I no longer am, for what brought me to her is empty now, the Offer given and accepted. It dies, as it must.

  I listen with her ears. Mine no longer hear. “You are the Youngest. You are the Only, for there has not been a new generation created since the Last Decision was made.”

  The One Who Speaks For All says more. He says more and such terrible things I stop.

  I am afraid to repeat them.

  “Pearl, please tell me. We need the truth, you and I. It is what we are.”

  What she asks of me, for my help, I must do, though with each word my hope falters . . .

  I fear my belief will go next . . .

  41: Harvester Afternoon

  WHEN Pearl finished, I waited a moment, digesting, then said gently, “Thank you.”

  It was true. The Mareepavlovax—these few—were the last. They’d known it and, instead of protests to the fates or some desperate action, they’d made a decision, together. To end, together. Harvesters had set their course, landed, and disabled their engines. They’d been ready. Content.

  Until the Dokeci plucked these from their final resting place and brought them to a new world.

  They were dying, still. The evidence was all around us. Not so their partners. Stimulated by the new and alien biology beneath the Harvester, a fresh generation of Vlovax had emerged. Determined to seek partners and make their Offer. To live.

  In numbers certain to terrify the Dokeci.

  I finished, having recited the translation word-for-word for Paul.

  No wonder Pearl had been distraught. I couldn’t imagine the Mareepavlovax were any less so. Some, I could see, had accepted a new Vlovax, answering the instinct to adapt to their changed environment.

  Perhaps the bodies left for the Dokeci, with an open wound where their Vlovax had been torn out, were those who’d refused to adapt, wanting only to end.

  Or had they been a response, understandable only to those who knew this species? “We will not be forced to live, when our civilization has died.”

  “Mareepa. Vlovax.” Paul spoke, and his grim voice was like the tolling of a bell. “Two sentients in mutualistic symbiosis.”

  With playful curiosity.

  What had never, to my knowledge, been seen before. “It means we depend on one another,” I said, feeling Paul’s fingers gather mine. Knowing.

  Pearl was, I could tell now, younger even than I. New to life. Full of its possibilities.

  It was Skalet’s lesson.

  I could see it in its entirety now. She’d watched how I’d prided myself on knowing more than any ephemeral. Worried when I’d made my memories the ultimate authority of our Library. And when, time after time, I dared assume I could solve everyone’s problems with my wit and charm and some Human luck?

  Had she been afraid?

  She’d been right to be. Now, as if I’d failed a client, my ignorance would have tragic consequences. I’d wanted to be Mareepavlovax. Insisted on it. Boasted to myself of my cleverness in obtaining a Vlovax of my own, without once asking why one was necessary.

  Symbiosis. We were locked together now, one being, but I was a false partner. This was why Ersh hadn’t shared the form: Skalet must have found it, been this, and only then learned the terrible truth. The Web of Ersh, my Web, existed to preserve, not destroy sentient life.

  When I cycled—

 

 

  Everything was.

  My education would cost this dear little being its life.

  * * *

  Fingers unlike mine pulled once. Save the rest, that was, Paul making sure I kept my mind on what we could do. Must do.

  I squeezed, then reclaimed my hand, still thinking of Skalet.

  What would she do? Do not assume comprehension. Test and assess.

  Fair enough. “I have something to offer,” I said, using their term. Going to my bag, I rummaged in my bundle of clothes—unpleasantly slick to these fingers—for my little beaded bag and what it held. I tucked away the empty cryosac before standing.

  “If you want to end?” The Kraal sac drifted onto corpses as I freed the imploder. “Here is the means.” No need to worry about an explanation. To these eyes, it had deep menacing glow, and if I’d realized Skalet had powered the thing for quick use—a little late to worry now.

  Paul stiffened. We were going to have that talk about secrets again. The thought was cold, rather than warm, and I wasted no time in regret.

  Because, as one, the Mareepavlovax backed away, hands out in horror.

  Then suddenly began to SCREAM.

  As if Pearl screamed for me.

  “You won’t.” I handed the imploder to Paul, blithely confident he’d know how to shut it off.

  Test complete. Assessment?

  Despite their decision, the Mareepavlovax weren’t ready to end without a struggle after all.

  “How would you like some hope?”

  With satisfaction.

  “Then let’s go outside.”

  Perception

  THE screams from inside echoed across the valley. Human and Dokeci stumbled away from the entrance, not slowing till they reached the yellowed ground.

  The Human guards stood facing the Harvester, weapons drawn despite a lack of target. Petham Erilton, his credentials as a mere administrator in shambles, stood with them, a com to his ear and a small needler in hand.

  Could they hear his heart? In the sudden quiet, its heavy sickening beats were all Evan could hear. Heartbeats and the distant creak of something moved by the freshening breeze.

  The Dokeci, guards included, clustered, skin black with horror, arms stiff and outstretched so their mass resembled Great Gran’s pincushion. The sole exception was Siokaletay-ki, who leaned on her poles where sun met the dark shade of the tower overhead, so it was impossible to tell her color.

  Her arms were relaxed. Normally a trigger to his FEAR, this time Evan was relieved. He summoned his courage and went to stand beside Petham. No one else was to use a com link without his authorization, but with that scream? Chain of command wasn’t his concern. Help for Paul and Esolesy was. “Are you in touch with the embassy?”

  The needler disappeared, whisked inside a jacket. The other gave him a straightforward look. “I’ve Commander Kamaara of the Mistral on standby, Senior Polit. Awaiting your orders.”

  Survey. Meaning additional security—well-equipped security—at their disposal. Meaning someone offworld paying attention. Evan saw and understood the tension in his team. Lisam and Lynelle trained with the Dokeci. They’d be aware what a serious breach of protocol—say deploying armed Humans who were not signatory to the Fleullen-ni—could mean here.

  As was he. They weren’t adding a second interspecies issue to the mix. “End your call, Administrator Erilton,” managing not to stress the title. “Contact Senior Polit M’Lean at the Embassy. Apprise him the situation is unchanged.” Spotting the flicker of resistance in Petham’s eyes, Evan went on firmly, “We’ve heard a sound the Mareepavlovax have used—peacefully—before. Startling, yes, but not cause for alarm.”

  “Precisely,” Siokaletay-ki reinforced, poling silently toward them. Two of her eyes faced the entrance. “I will calm our colleagues.” She wrapped two arms over her face, wiggling their now black fingerlike tips in flagrant disdain. “Hysterical fools.”

  The coarse display reassured Lisam and Lynelle, who put away their weapons.

  This was why Esolesy wanted her here, Evan thought suddenly. To intercede with these less informed Dokeci if—when—the strangeness of the Mareepavlovax overwhelmed them. “Thank you.”

  “I’d best hurry,” she said, turning at once.

  “Polit.”

  At Lisam’s urgent tone, Evan looked to the shadowed entrance.

  Their guests had arrived.

  42: Valley Afternoon

  I led the way, inner eyelids shuttering down the, to this me, over-bright light of Dokeci-Na’s overcast sky to bearable levels.

  Paul walked beside me, empty-handed. Whatever he’d done to the imploder, it was now in three small—presumably harmless—pieces, none glowing, so I felt comfortable leaving it behind. Along with my carryall and what I’d need—

  I wouldn’t think about it.

  The Mareepavlovax followed, their spokesbeing leading. Those too weak to walk on their own also came, supported by their fellows, and I suspected they’d have brought their dead along as well, if there’d been sufficient living hands for the task.

  Anxious, overstimulated, but not afraid.

  “Yes. Pearl,” I murmured, foreseeing a problem, “I must speak now to several others. When you hear your name, I’m speaking directly to you. I’ll need your help to translate the words of One Who Speaks. Do you understand?”

  With appalling trust.

  I halted within the tower’s shadow, on the metal floor. Being disconnected from the earth was a wrongness to this me, and most unsettling, so I used gestures to indicate the other Mareepavlovax should stand beyond it.

  They didn’t look pleased by whatever the Dokeci had painted on the ground either, but none hesitated, spreading out to either side along the wall of the Harvester. The weak among them were eased down.

  The One Who Speaks stayed with me. His Vlovax was little more than chunks of shell connected by dried threads of cartilage; this close, I could hear how his every movement disturbed those remnants, producing a delicate clatter as if he consulted with the dead.

  But his Vlovax wasn’t dead; it had discarded its outer shell and moved inside him, to be part of him. It starved, too, unadapted to the biochemistry of this world, and that was part of my problem. My instinct, as an individual, was to treat them as two separate entities. In a sense they were, as I’d learned with Pearl, but they weren’t independent.

  What happened when a new Vlovax rose from the ground? Did it replace a predecessor, or join it? Or fail.

  Between worlds, did Vlovax hibernate within their partner?

  Or die.

  Not questions for Pearl.

  Paul went to Evan, pointing to the entrance. I left it to him to explain why Esolesy Ki the Lishcyn hadn’t come out of the dark in a way that wouldn’t result in a laudable, but unhelpful flood of Human rescue-the-helpless. Wonderful species, but predictably focused on relationships.

  Predictably, mine arrived first, tipping respectively forward at One Who Speaks, but also at me.

  I could feel Pearl’s growing curiosity, so spoke quickly. “My name is Pearlesen.”

  No more than a splot of aquamarine betrayed my web-kin’s. “Siokaletay-ki is how I am called,” she replied graciously. “We did not expect so many.”

  What have you done, Youngest? that meant.

  I couldn’t smile in a way a Dokeci or Human could see. One of doubtless numerous points on which we couldn’t communicate, so I settled on how we could. “I am fluent in comspeak and will interpret for the Mareepavlovax as necessary.” That, in case she thought to circumvent me, but at this of all times I needed whatever help I could get. “Correct me at once if I make any errors.”

 

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