Nor Crystal Tears by Alan Dean Foster
At least, that was how the escape was envisioned. Ryo and his friends studied it repeatedly, refining movements, trying to shorten the necessary time. Whether the plan would work or not remained to be seen. There could be no trial run.
It was a particularly dark and cold night. Ryo hurriedly retreated from the observation post, though his presence did not surprise the indifferent guard, who attended to his fiction chips and ignored the consultant. Ryo’s peculiar affection for the surface was well known throughout X Section, confirmed by those who’d researched his past.
Omoick, the larger moon, was new and black. Omuick, the smaller, was only half full. That should aid concealment as they made the dangerous run from one exit to the next.
He made his way back toward the study sector, occasionally greeting cheery celebrants. Not all of them were drunk, but all were involved in season-end celebration and little else. A quality that may not facilitate intellectual advancement, he mused, but one which both races shared.
No one questioned Ryo’s presence as he ambled from room to room checking instrumentation. Most of the study chambers were empty. A few were temporarily occupied. He waited in those until their inhabitants departed, then quickly activated the altered cannister controls. The sleep gas was odorless and colorless. If you knew it was present you had seconds in which to flee. If not, you quietly succumbed.
He did not have to use the small filter mask he carried in his vest except once when he thought to check a room originally empty.
A young researcher was preparing a report on the conjectured premating nocturnal habits of the monsters. She was having a difficult time because the aliens were not cooperating much in that area. Ryo watched from the corridor as she started to enter her observation room, halted, swayed for an instant, then toppled onto her right side.
Retreating, he closed a corridor barrier, shoved several wads of expanding plastic against it to insure a tight seal. He repeated this with doorways on the opposite side of the corridor. Then he hurried inward, steeling himself.
Only a single guard was mounted where he’d expected two, but this advantage was mitigated when the guard turned and recognized him.
“Good evening, Consultant.”
“Good evening.” Ryo fought to recall the guard’s name. Time was ticking away. “How are they behaving, Eush?”
“Quiet, as always.” The guard held his energy rifle loosely as he looked past Ryo. Was some half-gassed scientist staggering down the corridor toward them, waving frantic alarm gestures at the guard?
The corridor was deserted save for the two of them. The guard was gazing longingly, not specifically. “Sounds like everyone else is having a fine time.”
“An energetic celebration,” Ryo agreed tensely.
“I wish I could join them.”
“Why don’t you? I’ve nothing to do this evening. This far from clan and friends I don’t feel much like celebrating. I’m qualified to assume watch for you.”
“That’s very gracious of you.” The guard wavered. “But it would be my star for deserting my post. I couldn’t possibly, not even on the permission of one so highly regarded as yourself. I thank you, however, for your generous offer.”
“As you wish. A shame.” He stepped past the guard. Just ahead lay the monsters’ holding chamber and the barrier with its multiple-sensor locks. Behind it, twelve monsters feigned sleep. They retained their personal chronometers. Though their time markings and splits differed from normal time, they had been able to coordinate them sufficiently with Ryo’s for them to be stirring uneasily by now.
“Those two lovely females waiting back there, for example,” Ryo said smoothly, “have accompanied me this far and are anxious for celebratory companionship. See them whispering, the one with the turquoise chiton and her companion of the gilded ovipositors?”
“Where?” The guard stepped cautiously to one side and tried hard to see up the darkened corridor. “Perhaps they might join us here? Nothing was said about my not celebrating at my own post.
“Hello,” he called out. “My name is Eushminyowot, friends of the consultant!” He said nothing more because of the weighted cloth that Ryo brought down hard against the back of his skull. The guard fell as silently as those who’d inhaled the sleep gas. His chiton whacked sharply on the hard floor.
“Rest and celebrate in your dreams,” Ryo said. Then he hurried the last steps down the passageway and ran the combination of the sensor locks. For a few seconds nothing happened and he wondered frantically if someone had changed the combination without notifying him. Then the door slid slowly into the wall. Standing behind it were a dozen anxious aliens.
For just an instant the sight of their horribly flexible masks looming over him in the dim light sent a stab of fear through Ryo. Then the inherited fears faded as Loo and Elvira stepped out into the corridor, bending low to clear the ceiling. A couple of the monsters exchanged words when they saw the motionless body of the guard.
“Quickly now, we’ve no time to waste,” Ryo said urgently.
“Lead the way. We’ll be right behind you.” The captain was tall even for a human, Ryo noted.
As they emerged silently into the corridor, Ryo noticed the aliens had armed themselves with pieces of furniture. He said nothing about this because there was no time for arguing.
Ryo staggered slightly as they passed one of the doorways he’d hurriedly sealed. Sleep gas was seeping from behind it despite his work. His head cleared as they rushed past. The monsters did not seem to notice it at all. A much stronger dose was required to affect them.
Another couple of turns, up two levels, and they were at the emergency exit. They met no one. Blessed be the celebrants, Ryo thought gratefully, for they shall remain pure in spirit and devoid of knowledge.
It took him a minute to bypass the warning unit. He could only hope that no backup alarm sounded a warning on the central security console as the first was disconnected.
The hatch flipped up and out. There was a soft flump as it landed on accumulated clith. Then the party was on the eerie treeless surface that roofed the base. In the distance the treeline was visible, its ghostly ranks marching silently away in the half-light. Only a single shadow marked his emergence. Clith crystals sparkled like gems in the light of Omuick.
Ryo marked their position and pointed the way. The monsters said nothing as they started for the correct exit marker. The hangar lay a modest distance away.
They were perhaps halfway there when the obvious suddenly intruded on Ryo. They had prepared for so many things; speed of progress, the sleep gas, the holiday night, the phases of the moons—he’d forgotten only one thing. His cold-weather gear!
He slowed, the numbness already beginning to overcome him. “You go on,” he told Bonnie and Loo as they hung back with him. “You know where the hangar entrance is now and I’ve told you how to program the cover. I’ll wait here.”
“Permanently? Not a chance, Consultant,” Loo said.
“We need you, Ryo,” Bonnie added.
The two massive creatures bent and lifted him between them; they ran with an extraordinary jouncing motion, and he thought for certain he would be sick. His body felt like a vibrating spring by the end of the short run.
They set him down next to the hangar exit. Despite the increasing numbness in his hands he managed to set the second bypass.
If the alarm had been raised it had not yet reached above ground. No high-intensity lights swept the frozen surface in search of them. The hatch cover clicked and flipped open. With the monsters flattened against the ground and watching him, he started down.
The smaller hangar was dimly lit. Ryo paused at the bottom of the ramp and let his dangerously chilled body soak up the warmth. When he was comfortable again he moved forward and peered cautiously around the opening at the end of the ramp. Nothing moved inside the hangar, but he thought he could discern voices far away. They must be on the far side of the hangar, he thought. That meant they could not see anythin
Ahead of him stretched ranks of planetary defense craft. The hangar was a miniature of the vast cavern located in the main base. Armed shuttlecraft were visible farther away. To his right, just beyond the first of the aircraft, was a bulky, awkward shape that had to be the monsters’ shuttle.
Hurrying back up the ramp, he confronted a circle of anxious alien faces.
“There are guards about, but so far away I can only hear them. Your shuttle is close by. From what little I could see it seems intact.”
“Be our luck,” grumbled one of the monsters, “we’ll get down safely, get aboard and be all set to blow, and find out they’ve defueled the engines.”
“Relax,” Loo advised him. “You said they broke the chemical makeup of the solid fuel components a month ago. They know the stuff’s inert until ignition. They’ve no reason to disassemble anything.”
“I’m not talking about reason,” the pessimistic monster continued, “I’m talking about luck. We’re going to need both to get out of this.”
“Let’s move,” Bonnie said sharply. She started down the ramp.
Ryo caught up and passed her, halted once more at the bottom. There was still no one in sight, but he fretted because the idle voices seemed slightly louder. “I will go first,” he announced. He noticed how tightly the monsters were gripping their makeshift weapons. One carried Eush’s energy rifle. “And please, no violence.”
“Did you tell that to the guard in the corridor,” said the engineer named Alexis, “before you clobbered him?”
“It was a careful blow, intended only to incapacitate, not to kill.” His tone was sharp, but the engineer was not offended.
Ryo stepped into the open and walked around the single aircraft. Up close, the monsters’ shuttle was clearly larger than a comparable Thranx craft, but not unduly so. It fit with room to spare beneath the vaulting ceiling of the hangar.
At first he could find nothing amiss. It was near the end of his check that he discovered a large metal plate dangling from the vessel’s stern. Returning to the rampway, he related what he’d seen.
“Sounds like they’ve been studying the coordinated feed and firing controls,” said Javier the engineer. She was a diminutive female not much taller than Ryo.
“We’ll just have to fix whatever’s been tampered with,” Elvira added huskily. “Hopefully it’s not serious. We’ve come this far.” She eyed the hangar opening hungrily. “We’re not going back to that cage.”
Murmurs of assent rose around her.
“I concur. We must take our chances now,” Ryo agreed. He led them silently onto the floor.
The boarding ramp was down. Most of the monsters started up but a few technicians, led by Javier, hurried toward the stern where they began working inside the open hatch.
Ryo nervously stood guard nearby. The voices came nearer still, then began to fade again. After what seemed like an eternity a loud metallic click sounded from behind him. The monsters had finished their work and were closing up the hatch. Loo and Bonnie waited to greet them at the base of the entry ramp.
“All set,” Javier whispered softly. “It looked like they’d just been testing. Nothing seemed out of place.” She shrugged, another gesture Ryo had come to recognize. The monsters were incorrect in stating they communicated only with their voices. “We’ll have to try it anyhow. We don’t have the time to run a detailed inspection.”
“Right. Get aboard.”
The three monsters climbed the ramp. Loo turned uncomfortably to Ryo. “We don’t know how to thank you. You know that. There’s really nothing appropriate any of us could say.”
“You haven’t even reached your ship yet and you’re a long way from jumping to Space Plus. It’s premature to think of thanking me.”
“No, even if this is as far as we get we owe you more than can be put in the words of either language. We’ll be standing by for the overheads to open. Are you certain you won’t be harmed? You told me it would take them a while to determine for certain that it was you who reset the sleep-gas cannisters, but that guard recognized you.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Ryo replied. “I’m coming with you. The overhead doors have already been programmed. I did that when I first checked your ship for damage.” He indicated a nearby computer terminal. “There’s no lock or guard on them. No one would expose himself to the air here without orders.”
Loo and Bonnie were momentarily speechless.
“Why should I not go with you?” He fought hard to contain his excitement and his nervousness. “My entire life something has pushed me onward, to seek extremes, to learn the unknown. It pushed me into extending friendship to the both of you and then to your companions. It has pushed me to commiting an act of Eint-denial. Why should I not carry it to its next extreme as something inside is forcing me to do?”
“I don’t know.” Loo looked uncertainly at Bonnie. “I don’t have the authority. I …”
“Talk to your captain, Elvirasanchez. It will take only a moment. We have no formal contract, but it might be said that you owe me this.”
“I’m still not sure—”
A piercing whistle punctured the resulting silence. Single- and multiple-lensed eyes turned. Three guards stood between an air-defense ship and a shuttle. They were gesturing frantically while whistling and clicking at the top of their range.
Lights winked on inside the monsters’ shuttlecraft, blinked several times. A slow whine started from its stern. Somewhere a horn hooted violently and confused whistles rose from all around the hangar.
No time remained for argument. Loo made a gesture Ryo did not recognize, then shouted, “Come on! We’ll argue about it later!”
Even as they hurried up the boarding ramp, it was starting to retract. Inside, everything was confused and out of place to Ryo’s eyes. Monsters moved rapidly around him, through corridors far too high and narrow. Everything seemed backward, distorted, an imager’s nightmare vision of what a real ship should look like.
He stayed close to Loo and Bonnie, afraid of losing himself in that distorted interior. Loo threw himself into one of the tiny saddles and began exchanging complex words with another monster seated nearby. Despite months of study the phrases’ meaning eluded Ryo.
“They’ve just seen us,” the other monster told Loo after concluding the barrage of technical talk. “What about the hangar doors?”
“No time!” came the word from over the internal communicator. Ryo recognized the captain’s tone.
Alien words flew around the chamber. “What’s the bug doing here? … Wants to come with us … What, but why? … Wants to … worry about it later … No time … How do we get out of here? … One way, hang on! … Open and closed! …” And other exclamations Ryo had neither the wherewithal nor the time to translate.
Thunder rattled the shuttle and Ryo found himself thrown to the deck. The sudden movement was not taken out of disregard for his safety; several monsters were likewise dumped on their abdomens.
Something under Ryo’s feet went rhooom! and for a moment every light in the chamber went out. He fought to regain his balance. It sounded like the ship had been hit. In fact, the opposite was true.
The guard in the fringe tower had reacted to the base-wide alarm, but no one had bothered to tell him what the alarm was about. He thought it likely to be another drill.
This illusion was violently and unexpectedly dispelled by the geyser of metal and plastic fragments that erupted from the far side of the base. Without warning, a ship hung in the center of the falling shower of splinters. It was bigger than any shuttle he’d ever seen and showed only two wings. A bright glow emanated from one end.
Then the roar reached him and that at least was familiar. The ship jumped as if kicked, rising skyward at an extreme angle. So stunned and enthralled was he by the sight that he forgot to activate his own alarm. Sometimes it is not planning but inspired confusion that is the best aid to escape.
The light of half a moon
XII
There was nothing aboard like the acceleration saddles he’d lain in on the shuttles that had lifted him from Willow-wane and dropped him down to Hivehom. Human saddles were short and angled in on themselves. He could not possibly straddle one.
The monsters were hastily strapping themselves into their own units except for one who staggered forward. Forgotten, Ryo chose a place on the deck where two walls joined and spread himself as flat as he could. With foothands he grasped the support pylons of two monsters’ saddles.
He worried overmuch. No radical maneuvers were performed and the steady acceleration was not difficult to bear. Soon the shuttle was coasting in free space.
That did present some problems. The monsters’ shuttlecraft was not large enough to retain artificial gravity, so Ryo went floating past several of the securely strapped-in crew. Loo unbuckled his upper torso and reached up to grab one of Ryo’s flailing hind legs, then pulled him down to where he could obtain a grip on the back of the monster’s saddle with all four hands. From there he was able to manage reasonably well.
The voices of the pilots reached them via the communicators. Again Ryo recognized that of the captain.
“I don’t see a thing,” she said. She paused, then, “There’s nothing up here. Not a damn thing, not even a shuttle.”
“What about the Seeker?” an unseen questioner asked.
“Coming up on her.” A longer pause, broken by a third voice.
“She looks untouched. I don’t think they’ve tried taking her apart.”
“Why should they?” Elvira responded. “For all they knew it could be booby-trapped.”
“I don’t know,” the second voice began. “They don’t strike me as a suspicious people. Though I don’t see how they could be anything else after years of sparring with the AAnn.” A brief silence. “God, she’s beautiful. I never thought I’d call her that.”