Phylogenesis - Alan Dean Foster [113]
“I…I find that hard to believe.”
“Then you are in good company in this room,” the senior supervisor assured her. “Murder, falsification of identity, illegal assignation of profession, and now escapement. This Desvendapur has much to answer for.”
“It is not something I would have expected of a soother.” The other supervisor was quietly incredulous. “Your friend must be found, and quickly.”
Both humans nodded assent. “This part of Earth was chosen for the colony not only because the climate is conducive to your kind,” the female said, “but because it represents one of the last and largest regions on the planet in which the imprint of humankind has not been heavy. Very few people come here, and those that do travel about under strict supervision or professional guidance. But if anyone should see this Desvendapur, engaged in whatever purpose he is bent upon, he will immediately be recognized for what he is: an alien wandering about on a part of the Earth’s surface where no alien is supposed to be.”
“I do not think I need remind you,” the male roughly told her, “about the delicate nature of the ongoing negotiations between your species and ours. Your…appearance…unfortunately, is off-putting to those of our kind who have not yet learned how to look beyond shape in the course of establishing relations. The great mass of humanity is still not entirely comfortable with the realization that there are other intelligent species, nor the possibility that some may be more intelligent than themselves. There exists a historical racial paranoia that is only slowly being eroded by contact with such as the thranx.
“The revelation that an illegal colony has been established here, in a part of the world where an alien presence is not officially authorized, could cast a serious pall on future as well as current relations between our respective species. In another ten or fifteen years, when the population of Earth has had a reasonable period of time in which to become used to your existence and appearance, the long-term existence of the colony will officially be made public. Realizing that your kind has lived among us in harmony and without friction for a studied length of time should, our psychologists tell us, greatly facilitate the formalizing of relations.”
“But not yet,” the female concluded. Jhywinhuran thought she looked tired, as if she had not slept in several days. “It is too soon—much too soon. The consequences that could result from premature disclosure are alarming.”
The sanitation worker did not hesitate. In spite of any personal feelings she might retain for the engaging individual whose true name it appeared was Desvendapur, she was a dutiful and conscientious member of a hive. As such, she knew that the security and integrity of the community could not be compromised.
“I understand that he must be found and brought back before his existence is discovered by any passing humans. I will help in any way I can.” She gestured sharply with a truhand. “Knowing him and being somewhat familiar with his nature, I can say that having gone to the trouble and extremes you have described, he may prove reluctant to comply.”
It would have been better had one of the supervisors responded, but with the abruptness for which they were noted, it was the male human who replied first.
“If that proves to be the case, then of course we’ll have to kill him.”
19
An irritated Cheelo was about to respond to the alien’s question, but before he could, a muted hum began to tickle his ears. Scanning the surrounding rain forest, he found his gaze being drawn to the tributary from which the striking anaconda had erupted. Ignoring the thranx’s queries, he walked to the water’s edge and squinted upstream. The hum grew no louder, but neither did it disappear.
“What are you doing?” Putting tentative pressure on his splinted middle leg, Desvendapur eyed the silent human curiously.