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the hive facilities they had just left. To alloutward intents and appearances, they might as readily beback
on Willow-Wane.
He had a horrible thought. What if this and they were partof some extraordinary, extreme social
experiment? Whatif they had indeed traveled through space-plus, but only tomake a looping curve back
to Willow-Wane, or to journey onto Hivehom itself? What if they were gullible volunteers inan
experiment to see how humans and thranx would get alongin close quarters in a physical and mental
environmentfaked to resemble the humans' homeworld? The view outstarship and shuttle windows could
be simulated. What ifthey had simply landed on a thranx world? It was impossibleto tell. Everything was
the same; nothing was different.
Except for the air.
It stank of exoticism, of alien vegetation and musk. Even purified and cleansed before being drawn into
the colony itwas still ripe with the fragrance of the utterly foreign. Ofcourse, an atmosphere could be
falsified as easily as images.All manner of smells and stinks could be artificially intro-duced into a closed
environment. If so, he thought, someonewas doing a superb job.
Because of his unique personal circumstances he was in-herently more distrustful than any of his
companions. Awareof this he chose not to reveal his suspicions. He hoped theywould be proved wrong.
If the gravity differed from that of Willow-Wane, the dif-ference was negligible. He didn't know whether
to be uneasyor delighted at the realization. The transport turned down asecond corridor and began to
slow. That was when many, ifnot all, of his suspicions were laid to rest.
A trio of specialists were strolling down one side of thetunnel, chatting amiably among themselves, their
antennaebobbing and weaving animatedly. They wore no special at-tire, nothing to mark their
surroundings as unusual. Two hu-mans were walking and talking with them, gesturing withtheir forelimbs.
Compared to the lone human Desvendapur had encountered on the surface of Willow-Wane, thesetwo
wore virtually nothing. Their fleshy, multihued epidermiwere blatantly exposed for all to see. Recalling his
studies,Des decided that both were male. It was neither their pres-ence nor their lack of clothing that
particularly intrigued thepoet, however. It was their nonthranx companions.
The pair of small quadrupeds that gamboled around bothhuman and thranx legs were coveredwith a
bristly sub-stance that he managed to identify as fur before the transporthummed on past. One had
covering that differed significantlyfrom that of its counterpart. It was also considerably larger, though
neither would have come up to the underside of thepoet's abdomen. They had long faces, intelligent eyes,
and jaws that resembled those of the AAnn more than they didthose of their human associates.
He fought to recall the details of human society. As he re-membered it, the bipeds not only consumed
the butcheredflesh of other creatures, they kept representatives of certain species in their own homes, as
if the company of their own kind was insufficient to sate their need for companionship.In this regard,
certain subspecies were more privileged thanothers. Among the latter were dogs, of which the two furry
quadrupeds accompanying the strollers appeared to be legiti-mate representatives. What was especially
fascinating was that despite their lack of sapience, the dogs appeared to bepaying as much attention to
the three thranx as to the twohumans.
To the best of his admittedly restricted knowledge, no suchcreatures had been imported to
Willow-Wane. They did notoccupy space reserved for humans on Hivehom. Support fa-cilities were
designed to provide for humans, not their domes-ticated animal companions. It was costly enough to
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properlycare for the bipeds. On the human homeworld no such restric-tions would apply. The presence
of the dogs had not entirelyerased his concerns, but they had made it much easier for himto be
convinced. The domesticated furry quadrupeds had ap-peared far too comfortable in the company of the
three thranx to have been recently imported to a project site.
The transport slowed to a stop, settling to the floor with awhine. They were met by a pair of females
wearing a type ofinsignia Desvendapur had never seen before. While the twoscientists were whisked off
to a separate destination, Des and Jhy were given a quick tour of the facilities where they wouldbe
working before being escorted to their new quarters. Thetwo of them made arrangements to meet and
share the night-fall meal along with the rest of the day's experiences.
Waiting for his belongings to arrive, the poet inspected thedouble cubicle that would serve as his new
home for an inde-terminate period. Nothing was unfamiliar; little differed fromthe living chamber he had
occupied at Geswixt. Everythingappeared to be of thranx manufacture. Given the professed secretive
nature of the nascent colony, he would have ex-pected nothing else. The bipeds who were surreptitiously
helping the thranx to establish a foothold on their own home-world could hardly place an order with one
of their localmanufacturers for a load of thorax massagers.
He halted. Something rising from the equipment stand atthe foot of the sleeping bench caught his eye. As
he turnedtoward it, an odor as pleasant as it was subtle tickled his an-tennae. The small, carefully
arranged cluster of flowers wasunlike anything he had ever seen, with spreading white petalsthat shaded
to deep purple at the base of the stamens. Bend-ing close, he dipped his antennae forward to sample the
essence of the bouquet. The stems rested in a fluted after-thought of tinted glass. If it had been grown on
Willow-Waneor Hivehom, there was a group of botanists who deservedwhatever compensation they had
been allotted. But it did notsmell of either of those thranx worlds. The amputated blos-soms reeked of
the here and now.
He looked forward to learning his way around the kitchenfacility, but that pleasure was denied him until
tomorrow. No one was expected to step off a shuttle after completing an in-terstellar journey and get
right to work. If it was all part of ascript to convince them they were on Earth when in fact they had never
left home, it showed an attention to detail he couldonly admire. But with each passing time-part he
becamemore and more convinced of the reality of the interstellartrek, and that they had truly arrived at a
furtive colony-to-behidden on the most hallowed of all human worlds.
He had hoped to encounter some of the bipeds, but thenightfall meal was attended only by fellow thranx.
A numbersmelled strongly ofoutside, and of a moist, pungent, alienoutside at that. He consoled himself
with the knowledge that he would probably have the opportunity to interact with hu-mans tomorrow or
the next day. Had he not seen two of themwalking casually in the company of three of his own kind onthe
way in? He had been patient this long; he could wait awhile longer.
But as the days went by without even a glimpse of a hu-man, he found himself growing uneasy. He had
not traveledall this way, had not forged a false identity, to toil at the prepa-ration of food for the rest of
his life. Though he had masteredthe limited demands of his new vocation, he was anxious toshed it and
resume the mantle of full-time poet. In order to dothat it was necessary for him to immerse himself in his
chosen source of new inspiration. But that source remainedas elusive as ever.
Where were the humans?Save for the pair he had passedon the day he and his fellow assignees arrived, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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