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He smiled encouragingly. "It's all right. We don't understand, either. At what age did Old
Cone start to instruct you in your present shape?"
"Old Cone? He did not instruct me. My mother did."
"Oh." Then Cone had been telling the truth when he'd told them that the natives preferred
the humanoid shape to their own. "What about your insides? Those don't change at all?"
"Oh no. How could you change your heart, or your stomach? Why would you want to, if
they were working well?"
"Good point. I had an uncle who had to get an artificial heart." He tapped his chest,
wondering if she would relate to the gesture ... or the area. "He'd have been real happy if
he'd been able to change his insides."
"An artificial heart." She mulled the notion. "What an odd idea. You mean, like a spear or a
pot?"
He nodded, grinning at her technological naivete. "Something like that. A machine."
"Like that?" She gestured with a four-fingered hand at his active recorder. "Like the
devices you use to study us?"
"That's right." He tapped the device. "This makes a picture of everything it sees. Right now
it's watching the Weaver."
"Would you like to make pictures of me, too?"
He smiled. "Maybe."
"And then you will study that?"
"That's right."
She ran one hand absently through her long hair. "Do you enjoy studying us?"
"It's not a question of enjoying. It's to increase our knowledge. Humans want to know
everything about Xica. About its plants and animals, its weather and geology. Its people."
"I know that. I want to know if you enjoy studying me. Just me."
"You mean you, personally?" She responded with a gesture Old Cone had taught the
Pendju. "Sure. I like studying all of you."
"I am pleased," she replied. "I want your people to like me. I want you to like me." A lithe,
four-fingered hand reached out to touch his forearm and he felt the coolness of her, the
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contact rejuvenating in the humid confines of the forest. It was almost like talking with a
child, he reflected, except that Diha'na was a fully mature representative of her species.
The hand began to stroke his arm. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled back. "That's
enough. The feeling is that our captain, Frank Lastwell, already went through something
like this, and he hasn't been the same since. I have no intention of suffering a similar
experience."
The fingers withdrew and the alien, humanoid face fell into a recognizable pout. "F'rank
was with Koil'yi. Koil'yi doesn't know what not to do." She looked back up at him. "While
you have been studying us, I have been studying you."
"That's very admirable of you." He didn't know what else to say. At the same time he found
himself wondering if he should wind up his observations of the Weaver and rejoin his
companions. There was no one else in view or earshot. Not that he worried about
becoming lost. Not physically, anyway, a part of him whispered.
The fingers returned to his arm. "I learned well what Old Cone tells us, and I have studied
you all closely. Particularly B'ella and K'auri. I want to do what is right. I want to learn,
and while learning, to make you happy."
"I am happy." Though taken aback, he didn't want to offend her further. The situation was
getting out of hand.
When had she studied O'Sandringham and Stevens, and why especially them?
Nothing was going to happen to him. He wasn't Last-well, and he hadn't been drinking.
The heavy, tepid atmosphere, the rich organic fragrance of the forest, the muted sounds of
mutable creatures rustling unseen in the undergrowth, and the light sandpapery feel of the
tree bark where it brushed against his bare skin, all combined to weaken his resistance.
But not break it.
"I'm not going to go through what Frank went through," he warned her. "He mumbles
about it constantly. He saw something that I don't think I want to see."
"You won't." She moved closer. "He wanted to see us as we were, not as we are, and Koil'yi
made the mistake of showing him. She should not have complied, but she wanted to
please. There are better ways to please." The four-fingered hand moved against him. He
inhaled sharply.
"I have studied hard and I am very able," she whispered. "I can become anything you want.
Anything. The Elders warn against experimentation but I have done it. Alone, deep in the
forest. It is hard, and it does hurt, but I would do it for you, if you asked. Please let me
please you. You who have seen so much could show me new shapes, teach me new things."
"Christ." Halstead found himself staring at her. "I... I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
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"You won't, you won't." When a Xican was close, it was impossible to focus on anything
except those astonishing eyes. There was nothing hypnotic about them: they were simply
deep, and beautiful. Seeking to verify that he was still in control, he deliberately looked
away. Nothing pulled him back. Nothing, except his own desire. His own secrets.
Her voice was a pleading whisper. "I can be, T'ed, anything you want. I want to be. Teach
me," she whined.
XV
"Where's Ted?" O'Sandringham wondered aloud. Prentice blinked at her.
"Where* d you disappear to?"
"Down to the beach." She hefted a collecting bag. "There's some fascinating mollusks in a
big tidepool. At least, I think they're mollusks. They have valves, and hard shells, but of
course in this place all taxonomic bets are off." Reaching into the sack, she extracted a
cross between a scallop and a spearpoint and tapped it against a rock.
"These don't change shape. Not every life form on this ball of dirt is different from what it
seems."
"Pretty hard to liquefy and restructure your cells underwater." Simna looked past her. "I
thought Ted was with you."
O'Sandringham shook her head as she returned the specimen to her bag. "Haven't seen the
big goof all morning."
"There he is." Prentice relaxed as the subject of their discussion emerged from the line of
trees. His recorder dangled loosely from his big right hand. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
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Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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He smiled encouragingly. "It's all right. We don't understand, either. At what age did Old
Cone start to instruct you in your present shape?"
"Old Cone? He did not instruct me. My mother did."
"Oh." Then Cone had been telling the truth when he'd told them that the natives preferred
the humanoid shape to their own. "What about your insides? Those don't change at all?"
"Oh no. How could you change your heart, or your stomach? Why would you want to, if
they were working well?"
"Good point. I had an uncle who had to get an artificial heart." He tapped his chest,
wondering if she would relate to the gesture ... or the area. "He'd have been real happy if
he'd been able to change his insides."
"An artificial heart." She mulled the notion. "What an odd idea. You mean, like a spear or a
pot?"
He nodded, grinning at her technological naivete. "Something like that. A machine."
"Like that?" She gestured with a four-fingered hand at his active recorder. "Like the
devices you use to study us?"
"That's right." He tapped the device. "This makes a picture of everything it sees. Right now
it's watching the Weaver."
"Would you like to make pictures of me, too?"
He smiled. "Maybe."
"And then you will study that?"
"That's right."
She ran one hand absently through her long hair. "Do you enjoy studying us?"
"It's not a question of enjoying. It's to increase our knowledge. Humans want to know
everything about Xica. About its plants and animals, its weather and geology. Its people."
"I know that. I want to know if you enjoy studying me. Just me."
"You mean you, personally?" She responded with a gesture Old Cone had taught the
Pendju. "Sure. I like studying all of you."
"I am pleased," she replied. "I want your people to like me. I want you to like me." A lithe,
four-fingered hand reached out to touch his forearm and he felt the coolness of her, the
a
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n
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F
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m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
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.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
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B
r r
contact rejuvenating in the humid confines of the forest. It was almost like talking with a
child, he reflected, except that Diha'na was a fully mature representative of her species.
The hand began to stroke his arm. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled back. "That's
enough. The feeling is that our captain, Frank Lastwell, already went through something
like this, and he hasn't been the same since. I have no intention of suffering a similar
experience."
The fingers withdrew and the alien, humanoid face fell into a recognizable pout. "F'rank
was with Koil'yi. Koil'yi doesn't know what not to do." She looked back up at him. "While
you have been studying us, I have been studying you."
"That's very admirable of you." He didn't know what else to say. At the same time he found
himself wondering if he should wind up his observations of the Weaver and rejoin his
companions. There was no one else in view or earshot. Not that he worried about
becoming lost. Not physically, anyway, a part of him whispered.
The fingers returned to his arm. "I learned well what Old Cone tells us, and I have studied
you all closely. Particularly B'ella and K'auri. I want to do what is right. I want to learn,
and while learning, to make you happy."
"I am happy." Though taken aback, he didn't want to offend her further. The situation was
getting out of hand.
When had she studied O'Sandringham and Stevens, and why especially them?
Nothing was going to happen to him. He wasn't Last-well, and he hadn't been drinking.
The heavy, tepid atmosphere, the rich organic fragrance of the forest, the muted sounds of
mutable creatures rustling unseen in the undergrowth, and the light sandpapery feel of the
tree bark where it brushed against his bare skin, all combined to weaken his resistance.
But not break it.
"I'm not going to go through what Frank went through," he warned her. "He mumbles
about it constantly. He saw something that I don't think I want to see."
"You won't." She moved closer. "He wanted to see us as we were, not as we are, and Koil'yi
made the mistake of showing him. She should not have complied, but she wanted to
please. There are better ways to please." The four-fingered hand moved against him. He
inhaled sharply.
"I have studied hard and I am very able," she whispered. "I can become anything you want.
Anything. The Elders warn against experimentation but I have done it. Alone, deep in the
forest. It is hard, and it does hurt, but I would do it for you, if you asked. Please let me
please you. You who have seen so much could show me new shapes, teach me new things."
"Christ." Halstead found himself staring at her. "I... I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
a
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f
f
o
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P
m
m
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Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
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B
B
r r
"You won't, you won't." When a Xican was close, it was impossible to focus on anything
except those astonishing eyes. There was nothing hypnotic about them: they were simply
deep, and beautiful. Seeking to verify that he was still in control, he deliberately looked
away. Nothing pulled him back. Nothing, except his own desire. His own secrets.
Her voice was a pleading whisper. "I can be, T'ed, anything you want. I want to be. Teach
me," she whined.
XV
"Where's Ted?" O'Sandringham wondered aloud. Prentice blinked at her.
"Where* d you disappear to?"
"Down to the beach." She hefted a collecting bag. "There's some fascinating mollusks in a
big tidepool. At least, I think they're mollusks. They have valves, and hard shells, but of
course in this place all taxonomic bets are off." Reaching into the sack, she extracted a
cross between a scallop and a spearpoint and tapped it against a rock.
"These don't change shape. Not every life form on this ball of dirt is different from what it
seems."
"Pretty hard to liquefy and restructure your cells underwater." Simna looked past her. "I
thought Ted was with you."
O'Sandringham shook her head as she returned the specimen to her bag. "Haven't seen the
big goof all morning."
"There he is." Prentice relaxed as the subject of their discussion emerged from the line of
trees. His recorder dangled loosely from his big right hand. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]