"I'm sorry," the rubber flower told her, "Tl*m*nch*l is out of the office. I'm Llessure Knarrfic, his, erexcuse me, please."
Reille y Sanchez wondered what this being had evolved from. Impossibly thin greenish fingers, six or seven to a hand (of which there were four), clattered over a circular keyboard set in the top of the desklike piece of furniture behind which the lower half of the peculiar sapient was hidden.
The "office" was a roofless cubicle she'd found after wandering a maze of similar corridors for what seemed hours. Overhead, a Fresnel lens two meters square focused the canopy's diffuse sunlight on the desk's occupant. Nearby, a humidifier hissed, adding to the tropical heat and moisture of what already seemed like a greenhouse.
From the general's description, Reille y Sanchez had imagined something like a big talking sunflower with petals around a "have-a-nice-day" face. This thing looked more like a pale green chrysanthemum with a blossom larger than a soccer ball. No eyes or other features could be seen, nor could she tell where the being's clear, androgynous voice was coming from. Beneath the blossom, a stalk or torso of the same color branched at intervals to produce the arms before it disappeared behind the desk. Now, symbols appeared on a screen no thicker than cardboard, standing at one end of that desk.
"There it is, according to this glossary of the human language, I'm Tl*m*nch*l's `secretary or receptionist.' Can I help you, Col. Sanchez?"
This Tl*m*nch*l (at least it sounded like that to Reille y Sanchez) was one of the sea-scorpions, sapient crustaceans brought here by the Elders. Decorative frames on every wall except the one which had dilated to admit her made the colonel suspect this creature or its boss, head of the "giant bugs with guns," perceived light in different frequencies than human beings. Significant areas of the pictures seemed an empty, dull gray.
"Reille y Sanchez," the colonel corrected, "mine works differently than most human names, there's really more than one human language. Ask Aelbraugh Pritsch, he speaks lovely Spanish. You can tell me where Tlumunchul is, or when he's likely to be back."
The chrysanthemum made a noise, clearing whatever it used for a throat. "That's Tl*m*nch*l, Colonel Reille y Sanchez. Most sapients find his name, along with the rest of his language, difficult to pronounce and won't even try. He's busy somewhere, doing something I'm not supposed to talk about with you newcomers"
Reille y Sanchez nodded. "The Elders' mysterious search for whatever?"
"I'm afraid," Llessure Knarrfic replied, ignoring the remark, "I don't know when he'll be back. Would you care to leave a message?"
"Sure. I'd like to speak with Tlemenchel about Piotr Kamanov's death. He's the Proprietor's security chief, therefore my `opposite number.' He's also the first nonhuman I happened to see here. I've never investigated a murder before, and I'm trying to be methodical."
"That's Tl*m*nch*l, Colonel Reille y Sanchez. I'll give him the message. Will there be anything else?"
"I'llhold on a minute, one more thing, if you don't mind." Excusing herself, Reille y Sanchez walked around the desk. Tucked beneath it were two pairs of fairly ordinary legs and feet, fairly ordinary considering that she'd expected to see a pot full of dirt. "That'll be all, thanks. I'm going to look up Aelbraugh Pritsch, and can be reached there, wherever `there' is."
"Oh, fudge," answered the flower. "I'm afraid that you'll be disappointed again. Aelbraugh Pritsch happens to be with Tl*m*nch*l, as we speak."
Reille y Sanchez suppressed the first response that came to mind. "I'm afraid `oh fudge' doesn't say it. Surprise the next human you talk to: check your glossary under sexual intercourse and bodily elimination."
"I will," the petals constituting Llessure Knarrfic's face seemed to spread, "and thank you, Col. Reille y Sanchez!"
"Don't mention it." She grinned, walked out through the wall, and stopped the next sapient she ran into.
By chanceor perhaps notTl*m*nch*l's office was near the infirmary (at least on the more-or-less random course Reille y Sanchez was following) where, it felt like such a long time ago, Kamanov had been taken for his shoulder injury. "Ran into" was more than a figure of speech. The "walking quilt" Gutierrez had told them of, who dispensed refreshments, came close to running the colonel over with its pushcart.
"Oops! Excuse me," were the colonel's first, reflexive words, "I'm Estrellita Reille y Sanchez. Have you seen Aelbraugh Pritsch or Tliminchil around anywhere? I need to speak with one of them."
"Greetings, Estrellita Reille y Sanchez, Colonel in Fullity of Kaygeebee, I have pleasure to be Remaulthiek and regret to inform you that both worthy sapients after whom you inquireand it is pronounced Tl*m*nch*lare at this time occupied in righteous and sacred undertakings which are not to be discussed with homosapienses. May I do something to recompense the debt of civility which this may otherwise create between us? You would, perhaps, delight to ingest caffeine infusion and a doughnut?"
Reille y Sanchez smiled. It was difficult to dislike these beings, even when they looked like GI-issue mummy bags wrapped in Saran Wrap. "Thankslet me get this one straight: Remaulthiek?the coffee smells wonderful, and I will have a doughnut. You haven't created any debt. If these were ordinary circumstances, I'd just mind my own business. But I need to talk to somebody among your people, the nonhomosapienses, who knows something."
Beside the cart, she watched Remaulthiek treat itselfherself, the general had decidedusing a flexible corner of her blanket-shape to dissolve a doughnut in a cup of coffee, sipping the mess through a large-caliber straw thrust through her protective wrapper. As with Llessure Knarrfic, there was no expressive face to go by, no familiar body language, but Remaulthiek seemed to be pondering the request.
"Something, if I may ask, about what, Estrellita Reille y Sanchez?"
"I had definite ideas about that, earlier," the colonel replied, "detective-type questions about Semlohcolresh, Mister Thoggosh, the Elders' culture in general. Now, I'd settle for practically anything. What have you got in mind?"
"Please, if you wish it, to follow me."
Disposing of the cup and leaving the cart, the entity waddled toward a corridor wall and through, the colonel following. As the wall closed behind them, they encountered an insectile being, perhaps one of the surgeons who'd worked on Kamanov. It stood as tall as Reille y Sanchez, and was different from the sea-scorpions. For one thing, it wasn't wearing the transparent plastic affected by them and Remaulthiek. Instead, it wore a garment made of hundreds of centimeter-wide strips of fluorescent orange-and-green fabric. It seemed to be examining a sheaf of papers on a clipboard.
"Remaulthiek," it rasped, apparently making sounds by rubbing vestigial wing-cases together under its clothing, "you never sicken, nor are you easily injured. What service may I do you?"
"Dlee Raftan Saon," intoned the quilt-being, "though denied in kindness, I pay a debt of civility. Estrellita Reille y Sanchez, in Kaygeebee Full Colonelness, wishes to ask, of somebody who knows something, detective-type questions about Semlohcolresh, Mister Thoggosh, the Elders' culture, practically anything in general. Estrellita Reille y Sanchez, Dlee Raftan Saon, Restorer-of-Health, who knows much about many things."
Reille y Sanchez put out a hand. "Thank you, Remaulthiek, and for the, er, caffeine infusion and doughnut."
Remaulthiek bent a corner, touching her hand. "You are welcome, Estrellita Reille y Sanchez. I have savored the sweet scent of your naming and return to my occupation." With that, she walked through the wall.
Through its tattered, dazzling attire, the insect extended a bristly limb which the colonel accepted without examining closely. "Sit, my dear, while I finish these confounded records. May I call you Estrellita? Then we'll sneak out of this sweetshopcorrect?no? `Sweatshop,' then, for a bit and a bite of talk, or is it the other way round? No matter. Tell me, this is your wish, to ask questions? It's difficult with Remaulthiek, her species communicates with pheromones and I've never quite trusted their translating software."
She sat, although she wasn't sure whether she'd chosen a tall bench or a low table. "You're actually speaking English, whereas Remaulthiek . . . how about Llessure Knarrfic, Tlomonchol's secretary, does it"
"It's Tl*m*nch*l, Estrellita, and she. Llessure Knarrfic's quite as irresistibly feminine, in her specific waythat's a punas your charming self. There are many differing theories on the evolution of sapience. One I agree with claims it's impossible in life-forms not divided into sexes. I might add, it wouldn't be much fun." The physician flipped papers back over the clipboard and set it on another piece of furniture. "I happen to be male, and of so remarkably advanced an age that my enthusiastic interest in the opposite sex is seldom taken seriously by females of my species until it's too late for the little darlings. Shall we go to lunch?"
With the colonel hanging dubiously on one of his four available arms, they strolled down the corridor, entering what she guessed was a cafeteria. Around the walls of an area large enough for basketball, she saw waist-high counters heaped with steaming dishes, dishes at room temperature, dishes on ice. Much of what was offered looked and smelled appealing after shipboard rations. Other selections, those still squirming in their stainless warmers, made her want to run to the nearest bathroom (God alone knew what that was like) with both hands over her mouth. "Gagh is best served live," she remembered someone saying.
"I didn't realize," exclaimed the doctor, noting her reaction, "that this would be an ordeal. A moment's thoughthere, find us an isolated table. Having treated one of your species, I've an idea of your requirements and can guess your preferences." He gave her arm a pat. "Perhaps by the window?"
Gulping her revulsion, she set a course for the indicated spot, closed her eyes, navigated by memory through a gauntlet of occupied tables laden with stuff which set her stomach churning.
Like any place where hundreds gather to eat together, the room was filled with chatter. Like any place where those hundreds were all foreigners, it consisted of incomprehensible gabble. Here, where Reille y Sanchez was the only human, the whooping, screeching, and buzzing of dozens of life-forms around her made it sound like a weird combination of cabinet factory and sheet-metal shop, set in the middle of a jungle (which it was) populated by noisy insects and tropical birds. The table she chose had potted ferns on either sidefor a moment she worried that they might be sapientsparing her further visual unpleasantness. She thanked whoever had designed the ventilation system that she couldn't smell most of what the others here seemed to be enjoying.
"You haven't found a seat." Dlee Raftan Saon arrived at her heels with a tray. "Don't you know how?" He set tray on table, eliciting a pinging noise. "Dlee Saon," he told it, "Reille y Sanchez." Chairs sprouted, one obviously for human use, the other an uncomfortable-looking rack resembling an upside-down director's chair. The table chimed until he fed it copper-colored coins.
Hitching her weapons belt, she sat. "DleeDoctor, I can't let you pay for lunch! Especially since I probably won't be able to eat it."
"Come, Estrellita, I know you haven't any money. You repay me with your delectable presence." Arranging himself on his rack, he slid the tray toward her. "See what I've chosen: uncooked greens in sweet, savory sauce. Muscle protein from a herbivorous mammal, minced, boiled in its own lipids until uniform in color and texture. Ground graminid kernels, leavened, heated until brown. Sliced tubers, also boiled in lipids, lightly salted. Coffee, seldom a wrong guess for any sapient. A bit short on certain essentials, but no one meal accomplishes everything. How have I done?"
She laughed, suddenly hungry. "Salad, hamburger with bun, fries? Doc, pass the ketchup. What're you having, ants? I haven't had any ants since survival school. I wonder what Tlamanchal's secretary over there is eating. And don't bother, I know I can't pronounce it."
"That's twice you've said that, Estrellita." His blue-green faceted eyes glittered in his heart-shaped, toast-colored face. She thought he looked like a mantis, although the swell of the skull (did insects have skulls?) behind his eyes was enormous. Hands at the ends of two-elbowed arms were like the armored gloves of a knight. The vestigial wings she'd guessed at lay under strips of colored cloth at the back of his neck, no bigger than the silver dollars her mother had once hidden under the basement floor. His antennae, jointed like a goosenecked lamp, made him look like a cartoon bug. "Must be something amiss with Knarrfic's software, too. She isn't Tl*m*nch*l's secretary, but his employer, under contract to Mister Thoggosh."
"That makes me feel better." She tried a bite of the burger. It tasted more like lamb than beef, and was delicious. More than that, she didn't want to know. "The only two nonhuman females I've met here, so far, and both of them menials? That doesn't speak well"
Dlee Raftan Saon looked up from his food, live insects in a bowl with slick, in-tilted sides so they couldn't get out onto the table. The utensil in one of his hands was a spoon with a lid like a beer stein. Another was a miniature whisk broom. "My dear, you're mistaken. Remaulthiek's a wealthy being. Long ago, she did a great wrong by our standards, I don't know what. It was the decision of the debt assessor she engaged that she succor, not those who become ill or injured, but those who love them and wait in anguish to hear their fate. She comes here for the same reason we all have, as Mister Thoggosh's employees, investors, or both. Unlike most, she brings with her the necessity to pay the moral debt she incurred." He took a sip of coffee. "There are others you may consult about such matters. I'm best qualified to advise you on biology. How may I help?"
"Just being here with you," she blinked at the change of subjects, "adds to my knowledge. There's a basic logic to investigation, the discovery of `method, motive, and opportunity,' but here, that isn't enough. I don't know what motivates nonhumans. I need to know more about the Elders, physical facts, as you say. And maybe I can pick up pointers from thisdebt assessor?Eichra Oren, if you tell me about the way he works. He's no doubt adding to his knowledge of my culture as we speak."
"I see." He sat a while, thinking. Reille y Sanchez paid attention to her lunch. "To begin with your first question, our esteemed benefactors are water-breathing creatures."
She nodded. "Although they're capable, in certain circumstances, of existing in the same environment as land sapients."
"For limited periods of time," Dlee Raftan Saon agreed, "and primarily by virtue of the almost nonexistent gravity on this asteroid, which makes up for a lack of buoyancy. In the water, you know, they can fill those awkward shells of theirs with air, rising and falling like, like"
"Like submarines?" She raised her eyebrows.
"They propel themselves at great velocities, like submarines, employing respiratory siphons like the nonsapient octopi you know. By contrast, on land, in full gravity, their shells weigh hundreds, sometimes even thousands of I don't recall the name of your unit of measure."
Reille y Sanchez swallowed coffee. "Kilograms. Or pounds."
"Depending on their age," he finished, "for they continue growing all their lives. That may be one reason they live so long."
She wanted to ask how long, but stuck to immediate business. "I've noticed that, exposed to air, like other aquatic species here, they wear a kind of spacesuit, practically invisible, which, I suppose, in addition to supplying breathable liquid, keeps their gills and other tissues moist. But I also know that, on some occasions, simply sitting in shallow water, out of direct sunlight, and splashing their gills seems to be sufficient."
Dlee Raftan Saon pushed his bowl aside, pouring coffee for both of them from a carafe. "In his personal quarters, Mister Thoggosh compromises all these possibilities, steeping himself in an oxygenated chemical which air-breathers like ourselves are able to survive in, although they may not like it much."
"General Gutierrez took a swim with Mister Thoggosh the first day we were here." She grinned. "It sounded like quite an experience."
"It's an expensive, somewhat experimental medium. Mister Thoggosh's use of the substance identifies him as progressive and forward-thinking. The fact is, he's one of the most radical individuals among the Elders."
"None of us," the colonel replied, "had enough data to appreciate that."
He leaned toward her. "We've been studying your speciesare you going to finish your tubers?a popular form of entertainment. As our computers sort your broadcasts, we've been catching up on thousands of years of history, one thrilling episode after another. I can tell you Mister Thoggosh is like your early aviation pioneers, radio tinkerers, women's suffragists. If it's new, he's interested. Semlohcolresh is more representative of Elders in general, which is why this asteroid venture is Mister Thoggosh's enterprise, not theirs. Fortunately, his enthusiasms invariably prove profitable."
"He's" she searched for the hated epithet, "an entrepreneur?"
"Yes. For example, that chemical stuff makes it possible for members of more than one species to meet face-to-face, something he finds essential. It accounts, in part, for many of his past competitive"
"Dlee Raftan Saon, I might have known! Colonel, here you are!"
She turned toward a voice she recognized. What she saw was a tentacle wheeling toward them on a metal contrivance, like a snake on a bicycle.
"I heard you seek my friend, Tulominchelconfound it, I'll never be able to pronounce his name!and my assistant. They're occupied, as indeed I am, but perhaps this surrogate will do. May it join you?"