Beert seemed to intend to give the whole history of his nest: “When the Horch came to the Two Eights they slew us by the sixteens of sixteens of sixteens, most cruelly and treacherously…” Well, I had heard all of that. And about how the survivors had been taken to the prison planet, and what happened to them there. However, the Four and Ones were eating it up. They hissed and moaned when he spoke of how people from their nest had been studied and used for experimental purposes, and when he came to their rescue by the Eight Plus Threes there were scattered cheers.
I might have cheered myself, because that was when he got to what I wanted to hear. “Then our little nest was free at last. As were the members of those other species whom the Others had imprisoned there. And it is of those other species that I would speak, revered Greatmother.”
Now he had my full attention, all right. “Some of you have seen the Wet One, whom we have helped return to his own planet to do battle with the Others who have enslaved it. His species was fortunate-a little fortunate-because their planet still exists. Not all were that lucky.
“You all know the species of the large one with many limbs”-his neck was outthrust toward Pirraghiz-“because some of them were here when you bravely captured this place. Their fate may be the worst of all. Not only were they compelled for a long, long time to be the servants of the Others, but their planet is long lost.
“The planet of the four-limbed one, whose name is Dan, is yet free, but perhaps not for long. The Others have already begun to infiltrate it. Dan wishes to be returned there so that he can help fight them off.”
He hesitated, eyeing me with a look I couldn’t interpret. Then he said, “Dan’s are a simple people, Greatmother. Their machines are crude. They have little wisdom. And they are not a peaceful race. I say only of them that their people are divided among themselves, with many ‘nations’ which make their own customs and laws, and sometimes actually go to war with each other.” Shocked stir among the Horch; Beert went bravely on, overriding the mutterings. “Nevertheless, they do not deserve to be made slaves of the Others. It is not their fault that their limbs are stiff and their brains are imprisoned in a box of bone on their necks. They are not animals. Their brains are in some ways almost the equal of our own. So I ask you to help him in this cause, revered Greatmother, and”-he hesitated, then got it out-“I ask you for more than that. I wish to go with him myself; to do what I can to prevent what happened to my planet from happening to his. Greatmother, will you grant me this wish?”
When Beert finished speaking there was a stir among the assembled Horch. Our nearest neighbors craned their necks to study Pirraghiz and me curiously, silently at first. Then not so silent. One of them abruptly clapped his hinged feeding dish against his belly armor. Then another did. Then they were all doing it, rhythmically, like the kind of we-want-a-touchdown thing that people do at football games. And then they began to sing again, first one or two, then the whole damn collection of them at once.
I don’t think it was the same song I had heard before, but I wasn’t paying attention to the words. I was staring at Beert.
The guy had taken me by surprise. Not only had he chosen not to denounce me as a capricious destroyer of Horch machines, but what was this about coming to Earth with us? That had never been part of the plan.
I realized Pirraghiz was shaking my leg. I blinked at her. “The Greatmother is beckoning us,” she whispered. “I think she wants us to come to her.”
They were all looking at us, as a matter of fact, even the Greatmother. As soon as I was close she darted her head at mine, inspecting me at close range far more thoroughly than before. But I was looking at the female Other. At close range I could see that the creature had not had an easy life lately. Her clothing was smudged and torn, and there were recent scars on the bulbous pumpkin face. As Pirraghiz set me down, not two meters away, the Other rattled her chains and hissed venomously at me. The Greatmother didn’t even look at her. “I tire of this filth’s presence,” she said to the air. “Remove her!”
As the crystal robots were dragging the Other away, the Greatmother twisted her neck to look at Beert. “You are determined to do this?” she asked. “To risk your life for the sake of some lower organisms?”
He didn’t look at me. “I am determined,” he said.
Then she sighed. “It will be done. My least grandson has prepared a plan which we will follow.” And added, “You are very brave, Djabeertapritch.”
And so he was, in more ways than the Greatmother knew.
PART EIGHT
Going Home
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When the Greatmother said “Do it” she didn’t mean do it on Tuesday. She didn’t even mean do it when the feast was over. Kofeeshtetch disappeared at once, promising to meet us at the transit machine, and then it was maybe five minutes before a pair of Christmas trees came charging along the cords to drag me and Beert away, Pirraghiz following. Cheers broke out as we left, and then another burst of raucous song. I was glad enough not to have to stay for that.
We stopped by the rooms to collect Beert’s personal glass robot. That was useful, since it gave me a chance to pick up my little mesh bag of Horch goodies. Beert gave me a dark look but didn’t say anything, and we were at the transit machine long before Kofeeshtetch and the troops.
Our Christmas trees deserted us then to fiddle with the machine, and I finally got the chance to ask Beert the question on my mind. “Why, Beert? Why are you coming with us?”
He swung his face partly toward mine, then away. To the air he said, “I want to be able to go back to my own nest.”
That didn’t make sense. “Why not just jump in that thing and go home?”
This time he did look at me. “And if I did that, what would I tell my Greatmother? That I turned loose somebody who had destroyed a Horch machine, with a bag of Horch material, and no way to know what you do with it? No, Dan. I can’t go home yet, though I wish with all my belly I could.”
“But-“ I began, trying to be reasonable, but then I ran out of time for being reasonable as Kofeeshtetch made his entrance.
The kid had an entourage with him, not only the four deadly Horch fighting machines but a large, ugly alien which had four or five tiny, different aliens clinging to his fur. I had seen them in pictures before, but never alive: the Bashfuls and the Happies, as the comics had named them on Earth.
“I promised to show you my other species,” Kofeeshtetch said proudly. “This large being is a warrior of the Others; the little ones are used for delicate work by them. Do not fear the warrior,” he added kindly. “He has been freed of his bondage and will do you no harm.” Kofeeshtetch allowed us a moment to admire his menagerie, then waved them off and gave one of the robots his orders.
Then he turned to us and got down to business. He extended one arm toward the TV, which the robot had made to display the globe of Earth again, and said: “Of the three eights and two vessels of the Others which are on your planet, I have chosen this one for your mission.”
I looked where he was pointing. The thing was down in the Gulf of’Aqaba, of all places. I demanded, “Why?”
He looked almost embarrassed. “It is not near any of the others. Also I liked the look of that funny-looking land mass.”
“No,” I said strongly, and then remembered to add, “Please. Do you remember what Djabeertapritch said about our many independent countries? Well, that one’s in the wrong country.” I stabbed at the map, in the vague direction of the East Coast of the United States. “Over here would be better. Can you enlarge this part of the globe?”
The Christmas tree did, and I saw the Eastern Seaboard swell up before me. There were four or five of those ruddy dots between Florida and Newfoundland. The best-looking one was not far from the alligator shape of Long Island, as close to the Bureau headquarters in Virginia as I could get. I pointed at it. “That one … please.”