Phylogenesis - Alan Dean Foster [42]
The journey through the tunnel seemed to go on forever. Certainly he did not remember it taking half so long on his previous visit. When questioned, the transport driver could only say that he was taking them to the destination decreed on his manifest. What would happen to them after they arrived at their destination he did not know.
After what felt like an interminable junket the transport pulled into a dock unlike any Des had seen before. All thranx facilities were spotless, but this one gleamed as if it was scoured down every other time-part. Security was noticeably prominent. The travelers were escorted off the transport, equal attention being paid to scientists and support workers. Ushered into a clean room, their bodies and personal luggage were minutely inspected, scanned, probed, and analyzed. Desvendapur would have been uneasy had he not observed that Jhy was even more nervous. Was she too the manufacturer and possessor of a false identity?
No, that was absurd, he told himself. As ever, he needed to be wary of slipping into paranoia. The four of them were going to be working in close quarters with humans. What more natural than that they should be profoundly screened?
Still, the procedures being followed struck him as excessive. After all, he had experienced close contact with one of the bipeds without any prescreening whatsoever, to the detriment of neither. But that contact had been unofficial.
He had anticipated the inspection and review would last a few time-parts at most. It occupied the better part of three days, during which time the four assignees were kept isolated not only from humans but from all other thranx except those immediately involved in their examination. At the end of that period they were directed to board another transport. Des noted that it was not independently powered, but instead was mounted on magnetic repulsion strips. That suggested a high-speed journey, and a much longer one than he had expected.
He was moved to query the official marching alongside him. She had a silver star and two subsidiary bursts embedded in the chitin of her right upper shoulder. “Where are we going? Why the rapid transport?” He gestured with a truhand. “The human sector is right over there somewhere.”
“The Geswixt sector is,” the escort agreed. “But you four have not been assigned to Geswixt. You’re going to the project.”
“The project!” Striding along just behind the poet, Jhywinhuran was listening intently. “The project on Hivehom. They didn’t tell us.”
“No point in keeping it a secret now. I envy you,” the escort murmured. “You will have the opportunity to meet and interact with the famous first-contact supervisor, the Eint Ryozenzuzex. Quite an honor.”
“I’ve never been offworld.” Desvendapur’s mind was spinning. Space-plus travel itself—the experience of journeying between different star systems—should provide marvelous fodder for composition. And then there was the opportunity to live and work with members of the original project, set up soon after the first tentative thranx-human contact was established.
“Neither have I.” The escort gestured appropriately as they reached the portal that provided entrance to the transport. “Nor is it likely I will ever be. But I am grateful for the opportunity to work here and contribute to interspecies understanding.”
“How many humans have you met?” Des asked as he stepped into the waiting vehicle. “How many have you dealt with?”
“None.” The escort stood stiffly to one side as they boarded, all four arms upraised in salute. “I am with Security. Our job is to keep the wandering curious away from the humans, not to interact with them. But there is still the satisfaction of contributing. Sweet traveling to you.”
Anticipation surged through Desvendapur as he settled his abdomen over a vacant bench, straddling it expectantly. Very soon