The Fresco (27 page)

Dear Benita, I write this as we return toward your Earth from our sojourn in Pistach-home. We were not summoned home on a simple matter, as I had hoped. This was no confusion over royal egos but was, instead, a vast troubling over T'Fees the Turbulent, who has titled self Grand Something-or-other, ruler over three Pistach planets! In each case, T'Fees has moved in, talked the campesi into a fury, assaulted the more specialized castes, particularly selectors and athyci, and has begun training armies. Amazing, impossible that he should have been able to do this alone! How has this happened!

Vess and I were summoned home to answer to the Chapter about our work on Assurdo, which had resulted in this bizarre ligament of events. We self-examined our work. The only thing we might have done differently was to have regressed T'Fees, but the guidelines tell us never to do that unless necessary, and in T'Fees's case, no one had known it was necessary. Luckily, the three planets T'Fees has conquered are low-tech planets, which means they can be easily assailed with high-tech modifiers, such as those we have used on your Earth, dear Benita. A surreptitious seeding of
nanobots has been done on all three worlds. The nanobots suspended everyone on the planet, and teams from both Pistach-home and several of our high-tech worlds are even now descending to do regressions on all army trainees. We hoped to find T'Fees and his coterie, a group said to be more intelligent and active than most, but unfortunately they were not on any of the planets we invaded. How did they escape us, and where have they gone?

Our fear is that they may have taken refuge with some other race of the Confederation, not all of whom are sympathetic with our ways. Sometimes I wish we could use nanobots on other races, but all other Confederation members have defensive bots to prevent our “taking them over,” as though we would want to! Providing them with bots of their own was part of our original peace process, what Vess and I sometimes call our balance of error.

There was nothing we could do to help this situation, and the Chapter agreed it was not our fault. Biological sports like T'Fees are not anyone's fault. They just happen. You have had your Attilas and Hitlers and Miloseviks; we have had our K'fars and M'quogjums, et al., though they were far, far in the past, in pre-Mengantowhai times. When we catch up to T'Fees, be assured he will be analyzed from heelspur to carapace! Though we will be kept apprised of what goes on in the T'Fees matter, the Chapter, having heard disturbing news concerning predation on your world, urged us to get back to our work as soon as possible.

Though our prerecorded appearances on your TV will have kept things simmering in accordance with the plan, that plan certainly did
not
include the inexcusable actions of the Xankatikitiki, the Fluiquosm and the Wulivery! They have, as your people say, pushed the envelope of acceptable behavior. When we arrived at Pistach-home we learned of their incursions on Earth from a Confederation staffer. Evidently the predators had bragged of it at some interplanetary meeting or other. They do revel in coup counting, though it is often their downfall.

We immediately appealed to the Confederation head
quarters. They responded, saying the three predatory races now claim they had never been informed that we, the Pistach, are assisting your planet toward Neighborliness.

Our ambassador to the Confederation immediately provided a copy of our previous notification, which had been circulated long before Vess and I even left Pistach-home! The Wulivery, as usual, claim communications problems, this time between their hunters' guild and their Confederation legation. The Xankatikitiki and Fluiquosm claim they are merely acting in concert with the Wulivery, whom they relied upon to take care of the formalities. This is patently dishonest, a ploy which is new only in its details. They knew very well we were here and they risked failure of our project by their interference!

One knows why, of course. No planet has ever been discovered as crowded with intelligent life as yours! All of our predatory races prefer creatures of good taste, that is, brainy creatures. Even your native predators eat the brains of their prey first when they can.

Meantime, a good many of your people have been slaughtered, though the loss is only numerical. No appreciable proportion of humanity or any subset of it has been lost, no irreplaceable knowledge or experience has been deleted. Even so, the deaths are grievous to us. We will immediately touch the survivors to learn what may be done to atone. We must also, unfortunately, make our own arrangements to find the Xankatikitiki, et al., and bring them into compliance, for once on the hunt, these races do not call home.

As we must make clear to your people, dear Benita, our predatory associates are not easy to find, let alone admonish. While your armed forces might possibly locate and destroy them, leaving the matter to us will result in less loss of life in the long run. I will communicate this directly to your United Nations when we return, dear Benita. We are covered with chagrin.

Despite these alarms and confusions, I am looking forward to seeing more of your art and hearing more of your music. I still quiver at the memory of those paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. How majestic they are, how
strong and pure. Even your ancient paintings at Lascaux and Altamira have a great strength and resonance, an inborn sense of beauty. There is much about your people that is enviable, Benita. You will be a great asset to the Confederation if we can only sort out these minor difficulties.

WEDNESDAY

On Wednesday evening, Chiddy and Vess returned, announcing their arrival by a phone call only moments before they appeared in Benita's hallway. Over coffee—which they said they much liked and intended to export to Pistach-home—they told her about a Pistach named T'Fees who had gone crazy and upset the orderly way of things, requiring a lot of trouble on the part of their people. She listened, lips tight and growing more and more irritated, while they hemmed and hawed for a while, using a lot of words to say almost nothing.

Finally, Chiddy said, “Benita, we have to tell you something. We deeply regret it, but—”

“You don't have to tell me the predators are here,” she snapped, in a voice that sounded testy even to her. “I'd rather imagined they were when one or more of them tried to get into this apartment last night! They've got Bert already. I don't suppose you knew that!”

Both the Pistach turned rather green and slightly demorphous, as Benita had observed them do on similar occasions. When they were upset, they lost a certain definition of shape, becoming foggy about the edges, though only mo
mentarily. As they solidified once more they glared at one another, turning redder and redder. During their visits she had learned to tell when they were angry, because no matter what shape they were in, they turned red, just as humans did. When she had mentioned this, they told her their vital fluids were similar to those of humans.

Chiddy growled, “They came after
you,
Benita?
You
particularly?”

“The only other creature living here is the dog,” she growled. “It was at night, so I was the only person in the building. Something went past my bedroom windows and then tried to get into the elevator. Then they pushed Bert up against the front windows and had him yelling at me, asking me to come to the door. If they'd tried him first instead of crunching around on the roof, I might have fallen for it.”

Chiddy's male human guise nodded miserably. “We found out the predators were here when we arrived at Pistach-home, and when we returned, we detoured to affirm the presence of their ships on the back of your moon. We've already called for censure of all three races by the Confederation, plus we've brought several Confederation Inkleozese back with us.”

“More aliens?” she blurted.

“The Inkleozese are the traditional monitors and peacekeepers of the Confederation. They are feared even by the predators, and they are best qualified to do what now must be done. We did not know, could not have guessed, that the predators would bother your person, yourself! Why would they?”

She had pondered this herself. “They probably aren't doing it for themselves. There are people looking for me. Political enemies of the current administration. You know that.”

“Yes, but…is it possible that…could they…can we believe…”

The two of them went off into a corner and buzzed at one another, waving their arms, looking crestfallen.

She interrupted their conference. “Someone probably put them up to taking Bert. I'm not fond of him, Chiddy, but I don't want him…eaten or tortured or anything like that.”

Chiddy shook his head, almost humanlike. “Benita, though we hate to believe it, you are probably correct about their motive. It seems likely the predators have made common cause with some barbarians among you who wanted your husband taken for political reasons. If this is so, they are unlikely to hurt him. The predators are brazen, but they are not fools.”

“What barbarians are we talking about?”

“Those like the man McVane.”

“Good old McVane,” she snorted. “Him and his cabal.”

Chiddy shook his head, remarking, “Such violations of protocol have been known to happen in the past when members of the Confederation have discovered intelligent races who do not have a planetary government. A disunited planet allows the predators to shop about among factions, nations, tribes, or rulers to find someone or some group they can work with! Once they have done so, they claim immunity from Confederation rules because they have a treaty with natives. Then the whole matter must be referred to the Confederation courts for decision, and the courts appoint a study commission, the commission submits a report, the report is subject to question by some other group, and the whole thing takes absolutely forever! Meantime, the predators go on happily hunting.

“Unfortunately, we have no immediate way to reach those of them who are loose on your world except by going to the ships on the back of your moon and demanding contact. We could do this, we will do it if necessary, but it will be a black mark against Pistach in the Confederation. A ship at rest on an unoccupied planet or moon has a status equivalent to your foreign embassies. Why in the name of Gharm the Great didn't you people set up an outpost there when you had the chance? Since you didn't, the predators' ships are sovereign territory. One may visit, one may gently suggest, but making a demand on sovereign territory opens one to criticism and shame.”

Vess interrupted, “Individual predators on an occupied planet, however, have no such status. We may do with them as we will…”

“Or can,” muttered Chiddy, looking downcast. “When and if we find them!”

Vess gave him a reproving stare. “We will find them! It may take a few days, however, and we can't wait that long to explain to your people, dear Benita.”

“Start by explaining a couple of things to me,” she suggested angrily. “Starting with how they found me!”

Chiddy heaved a very human-sounding sigh. “The Wulivery can smell the Pistach, dear Benita. I mean they can smell any creature, like your bloodhounds, only better. They had only to send out sniffers to pick up our Pistach scent and determine where it was stronger. We have spent more time with you, here, than in virtually any other place, so our smell is very strong here, in your home. They would have known that.”

“I see,” she murmured. She couldn't smell anything, but then, she wasn't a Pistach, or a predator. “You'd better let the world know what they're up against. People are not going to like it.”

Chiddy composed himself enough to say, “Please call your go-between to the government and explain what has happened. Then, tonight, we will apologize to all your people through the television. We will also introduce the Inkleozese to them and explain the function of our monitors.”

Vess assured her their apology would appear everywhere, in whatever language was locally spoken. She suggested they show pictures of the predators on TV, just so people would know what they were talking about, and they said they could do that for the Xankatikitiki and Wulivery, but not for the Fluiquosm, who do not make any reproducible image.

“Are they invisible when they're dead?” she asked grumpily.

“Why no,” said Vess.

“Then show a picture of a dead one,” she demanded.

“Wouldn't that be in bad taste?” Vess asked, making fussy little motions with his hands.

“You told me you've watched our television for years,” she snarled. “After O. J. Simpson's trial and Ken Starr's investi
gation and the constant stench from Trash TV, what's a dead Fluiquosm or two?”

They thought a bit and then said they'd get a picture of a dead one. “By the way,” said Chiddy, “you may do me a small favor. I would like to leave my translator here, listening to your television. I would do it in the ship, but all the ship's circuits will be fully occupied seeking predators and maintaining the disappearances and the ugly-plagues.”

“You really
want
to translate our TV?” she asked, distractedly. The thought of Bert as a captive had just led her to wondering if Angelica and Carlos were safe. If they had taken her husband…

“No. There is little of it we enjoy. However, my accumulation of spoken vocabularies is not complete, and you have a Spanish language station? If you would be kind enough to leave it on while you are away?”

She nodded and gestured at the set, without really listening, not even watching as Chiddy put a black device no larger than a tiny camera on top of the TV.

“When you are leaving, turn on the TV and push the red button to turn it on,” Chiddy murmured when he left. “It will feed accumulated vocabulary to the ship. In fact, if you should need us, you can simply shout at it. Something urgent. Like
SOS
or
Danger
, or
Fire
!”

She wasn't listening, for she had already picked up the phone to call Chad and ask him to provide some protection for Angelica. By this time she and Chad had each other's numbers memorized, as they talked virtually every day, and Sasquatch was so used to Chad dropping in that he didn't even growl at him anymore. On this occasion, Benita explained her concern by repeating every word Chiddy and Vess had ever said about predators making common cause with McVane, et al. She didn't mention T'Fees. Even though neither Vess nor Chiddy had asked her to be secretive about the T'Fees problem, she didn't think Earth needed any more variables thrown into the pot than it already had. She did, however, tell him about the Inkleozese.

Chad muttered and grumbled, “New ones? Benita, you've got to be kidding!”

“I'm not, Chad. They just told me about these creatures. Evidently they act in the same capacity as our UN peacekeepers.”

“Ineffectually, you mean?” he said in disgust.

“Chad! It's not my fault.”

He said he knew that, apologizing for his tone. “Since you seem convinced the predators are working with McVane and his bunch, there's nothing to suppose they'll stop with Bert. I think you're right to be worried about your kids, and I'll get some protection started for them.”

“Anything you can do, Chad. I hate to be a bother but—”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, entirely too tersely, as he went off to transmit the message to whomever.

That night she watched as the two envoys explained very clearly and concisely what the Confederation was and who the members were. They mentioned there were over fifty member races, most of whom lived at great distances from one another and from Earth, only about ten of them anywhere nearby. “Nearby,” Chiddy defined as “offering something worth the very high cost of interstellar flight.” Chiddy and Vess showed pictures, the nonpredators first: flutelike Vixbots, swamp-living Oumfuz, the differentiated Credons, the winged Flibotsi, the crablike Thwakians.

Then, in greater detail, the predators: the Wulivery looked more like sea anemones than elephants. They had a ring of twelve tentacles around their mouthparts, which were on top of their heads. When relaxed, the head part was immediately above their relaxed, stumpy fat legs. When the creatures were not relaxed, the legs elongated from around eight feet up to thirty feet or more, moving the tentacles far above human eye level and allowing the rough gray skin of the leg to blend among the tree trunks of any forest or jungle. Their hunting was generally limited, said Chiddy, to wooded areas.

Oh, yeah, Benita commented to herself. Washington, D.C., wasn't wooded, but that was the shape that had been on the roof!

While the Wulivery resembled sea anemones, the Xankatikitiki looked more like six-legged bears. They
weighed a hundred twenty to a hundred fifty pounds. The fur and the personality were like that of a wolverine. The four longish legs were cheetahlike. The two arms were muscular, like a gorilla's. The prehensile tail was like the back end of a python, and the jaws were as strong as hyenas'. Adding to the general ferocity, their claws were retractable and the teeth were poisonous in the same way as a Komodo dragon's teeth, that is, so filthy that any wound led to sepsis and eventual death. All of which meant, so Chiddy said, they could climb very well, run very fast, and kill almost anything. They hunted in small, family packs, mostly in open areas.

The Fluiquosm were virtually invisible. They flew and had rending organs (beaks? talons?). The body they had pictures of was pale yellow, about the size of a Rottweiler, with a strange complicated growth on its back that Chiddy identified as the flying organ, not wings, but something else. Chiddy said to think of them as large, intelligent, invisible eagles who happened to be quite ferocious.

The broadcast continued with Chiddy apologizing profusely to all the people of Earth who, he said, would understand what was happening, because on Earth there were member nations of the U.N. who were always telling lies and trying to beat the system, like Iraq or Libya, or members who didn't pay their dues but still expected to be respected and listened to, like the U.S.

At the very end of the broadcast, they explained why they had brought the Inkleozese and introduced the score of them who were already on Earth. Their names were unpronounceable. They didn't seem threatening or unlikable, though when the Inkleozese turned to leave, the audience could see rear ends much like a wasp's rear end, terminating in a lethal looking daggerlike arrangement.

Benita's phone rang about an hour after the broadcast: Chad, wanting to know if it would be a violation of Neighborliness if humans went hunting for the Xankatikitiki and others. The White House was receiving hundreds of calls, and he said for every call they got, there were probably a dozen hunters out there, already planning their expeditions.

When she hung up, she uttered this question loudly and her phone rang.

Chiddy's voice said, “You caught us just as we were leaving to go hunt predators, Benita. What is it?”

She explained Chad's problem.

“Predators' rules are different from civilized rules,” Chiddy replied in a reproving voice. “Any Confederation predator who goes on the hunt is fair game for anyone, although the odds on Earthian hunters actually killing one are vanishingly small.”

To help out, however, he said the body temperature of a Xanka was 116° F, a Fluiquosm 80° F, and a Wulivery 104° F, so heat detectors could be used against cooler or warmer backgrounds. All their worlds were reasonably Earthlike, and they didn't need any kind of protective gear except for the Wulivery, who need breathing tubes to furnish them with methane.