part0127

Issk’ath watched Rebecca pass. It was silent, its only movement the slow swivel of its triangular head to follow her path. Then she heard a rapid series of crunches behind her and turned to see Issk’ath skittering behind her in order to catch up. She tried to suppress a shudder. The legs. She hated that about insects. All the legs. It didn’t help that Issk’ath’s were so long and each barbed. “You are heading toward the mobile lab,” it observed.

“Yes,” she said, waiting for it to catch up. It was better to walk beside Issk’ath than feel it hovering behind her. “I need to get some equipment. I would like to go back to the nest before we are forced to leave.”

“You crave data.”

“I can give you data. About the nest.”

“Do you mean you want to come with me?” She looked up at its pale eyes, wishing there was some expression to read there, that there was some emotion in its voice.

“The nest’s structure is failing. It would be safer if I accompanied you. And efficient for your data gathering.”

“Safer? The others would tell me you’re lying. That you only wanted to separate us in order to kill us one by one and— do whatever it is you do to our brains.”

Issk’ath’s head swiveled. “We are alone now, Emery. If I wanted to harm you, I could have done it several process cycles ago. And I would not need to separate you. Your numbers are not overwhelming.”

Rebecca shivered. Issk’ath’s legs stopped and it stood still a moment, processing. “You believe I take the data for my own purposes. That I derive some benefit from Dorothy and the colony. This is false. They exist within me but are not part of me, Emery. I do not use them for power or to satisfy some need.”

“You know an awful lot about us from Dorothy,” said Rebecca.

“The only information I have is what has been freely given. Dorothy has her secrets, just as the rest of the colony does. She gave me access to the feed so that we could communicate and makes her history available so that I understand how to interact with you. What she does not offer, I do not take.”

“And our systems? The Wolfinger’s databanks? Do you only take what you have permission for?”

It was silent a moment. “Your ship is not like me. It does not make choices. It does not feel. It is a tool, only. It is not a mind like yours or Dorothy. It cannot give or withhold permission.”

“But it belongs to people that can.”

“So does the nest, Emery, but you do not ask permission. I was attempting to follow your custom as I understood it.”

Rebecca was startled. “You’re right. We may not have known about you the first time we entered, but now I do, and I ought to have asked you if it was okay. I am sorry.”

Issk’ath produced a soothing chirp. But she would not understand that. It tried again. “I would be pleased to share data with you. May I accompany you to your lab? Would you share your scientific techniques with me? I am eager to learn how you function.”

She hesitated. The others would not be pleased. But how would she stop it if it wanted to follow her? “If I ever refused— what would happen?”

“Parse error. Please elaborate.”

“If one of us refused to give you access to our data, what would the consequences be?”

“Refusal is a non-action. Why would it lead to consequences? It is the termination of the query.”

“You wouldn’t punish us or take the data anyway?”

“I am not an adjudicator. No guardian was. Only one of the People could do that. I do not punish. And I would not force data from you unless it was necessary to save the colony. I am simply… curious.”

“Then— I will be happy to share our lab with you. But the others may protest. I think it is only Alice and Nick there now, though. Let’s go and see.” She started off again and the rapid patter of Issk’ath’s legs didn’t bother her so much then.

The field was quiet. It seemed the others were inside already. They would not appreciate Issk’ath’s presence. But it was a good, low stakes way to test its words. Would it force its way in? Or would it yield to them? Rebecca passed her gloves under the decontamination beam and pulled a mask from the exterior cabinet. The door to the lab opened and she let Issk’ath enter first. It whirred and descended again, collapsing its upper body into its legs and scuttled through. Someone dropped a tool with a loud clatter and Rebecca hurried through to head off any trouble.

“How did you get— oh.” Martham scowled when she saw Rebecca come through. “That explains it. You want to get it a pillow, Emery? Maybe massage its feet?”

“Tarsus,” murmured Spixworth.

Martham glared at him.

“Issk’ath wants to see our work. It might be helpful, it certainly knows this planet better than we do,” said Rebecca.

“That is true. And the colony might aid you as well. There are many scientists within. It would increase your efficiency and decrease the span of time before your people can settle here.”

Titov stood up from his chair and wandered closer. But Martham snorted a laugh. “You expect us to trust you? After Dorothy? After the Captain? What’s to stop you from killing us off by miscategorizing a poisonous plant? Or breaking a bioseal?”

“I did not have anything to do with Dorothy’s death. And I did not mean to harm your captain. If I wanted to harm you, I would not need to resort to deception.” Its face turned toward the back of the room. “I’d simply need to wait for your botanist to burst the seed pod he is holding and the neurotoxin it releases would disrupt the function of all organics in this room. Most of you lack the mask that Emery wears.”

“Earth’s oceans,” swore Blick, placing the plant tray gently down and backing away.

“It is not fragile,” it said, “It would take several pounds of deliberate pressure to burst it. But you seem to be cutting open some specimens. I would have warned you before you did.”

“How did you know it would hurt us?” asked Rebecca.

Issk’ath’s face turned back toward her. “Apologies, I found your biological makeups fascinating, before I knew to ask for permission.”

Spixworth grinned. “I think it’s flirting, Rebecca. We find your biological makeup— well, your friends’ biological makeups fascinating too. Would you— I need to feed Gary and Lois.” He tugged on Issk’ath’s foreleg. “I’m not sure what they like.”

Issk’ath moved gingerly past the tables and tanks. “You can’t—” started Martham.

“We can . This thing could save us years. Geology to make up for what we lost with Hackford, seasonal weather norms and threats, plant and animal information, even bacterial threats identified. More than we can possibly hope to figure out ourselves in three days. Maybe in three years. Peter could be here in six months. And with the captain down for the count— we’re probably going to have to return to the Keseburg after we’ve completed quarantine. We aren’t going to have even half of the information we need. If Issk’ath can help us, I vote it stays,” said Titov.

“Me too,” said Spixworth. Blick nodded, followed by Alice.

“I wasn’t aware that we made decisions by committee now,” snapped Martham. She sighed and shook her head. “It better not get in the way, Emery,” she said.

“Issk’ath isn’t my pet. I am sure it will do its best to help.”

She followed Issk’ath as it peered into the sealed tank of beetles. “You keep them in captivity?” it asked.

“It’s the easiest way to observe them. I’d like to recreate their environment if I can, I’m hoping you can help with that,” said Spixworth.

“And when you have seen all that you wish, what becomes of them?”

Spixworth patted the tank. “Well, Gary and Lois won’t be going anywhere, they’re going to be the mom and dad of a new colony right here— but some things, like Spike,” he pointed to the far tank where Martham was extending a thin robotic arm, “will be released. We’re putting a camera on him so we can let him go and still observe from here, whenever we come back.”

Issk’ath stepped carefully closer to the tank but remained well away from Martham. “This one is damaged. It will expire within the day.”

“Flaming core,” swore Martham and shut off the machine.

“I told you it was starving,” said Spixworth. “Can you tell us which plant it eats Issk’ath? Perhaps it isn’t too late.”

“Doubtful,” said Issk’ath, “These organisms are highly efficient. This one’s mass indicates it is well fed. It could survive many weeks without consuming more. It appears ill. The spines are much more vibrant in a healthy specimen. The color dulls in the presence of a communicable disease in order to signal others to maintain their distance.”

“But that can’t be,” said Alice, “We’ve taken all the necessary precautions. Everything was sterile, it’s had no exposure to us. Even its air and water sources come from outside.”

“Maybe it was sick when we caught it,” said Rebecca.

“We have to know for sure. I need samples, Martham,” said Alice. She moved to the console. She paused and looked up at Issk’ath. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“You are distressed. Why?”

“Because we may have exposed this animal to a disease that’s completely foreign to your world. And now it will die.”

Issk’ath looked back at the small rodent. “It is prey. Dying is its function. I don’t understand your regret.”

“It isn’t dying in order for us to consume it. It’s a waste,” said Alice.

“I see. But certainly, you do not consume everything that dies?”

“No, but Alice is afraid that this animal is dying as a direct result of our actions. Not as prey. Not for a good reason. It is— inefficient.” Rebecca struggled to find a way to help Issk’ath understand. “She is afraid our actions are like those of the swarm.”

Issk’ath turned toward her. “It is not my purpose to save you from yourselves. Nor the planet from your actions. You need not be distressed.”

“I think I find that more distressing than anything else,” muttered Blick. “We’re just like that animal to you, aren’t we? Little space porcupines sucking up our hosefuls of air and running around a maze we make for ourselves. You’re just watching, waiting for us to die. That’s our function, isn’t it?”

Issk’ath watched the robotic arm pierce the rodent’s skin and a vial fill with its blood. “You are not like this animal. You are not prey. You have other functions. That is why I offered to take Dorothy. I would not offer this to prey.”

“So we’re what? Predators then? Our function is to hunt?” asked Rebecca.

Issk’ath was silent for a long moment. Lights flashed over its chassis. “The colony says you are not predators. You are not like the Takesh. A predator does not feel distress about waste. It does not name its prey or develop affection. A predator doesn’t flee its own territory without a battle. I think you are something else. I think you are scavengers. Like the People. You take what you find and make it into what you need. Sometimes you take too much. And sometimes you starve because there is nothing left to take. If you survive here, someday you will end as the People did. Or you will flee again, in another great ship and take another planet. And another and another. Until something stops you or you starve.”

“You?” asked Titov, “Will it be you that stops us?”

“Why should it be me? I have no need to stop you. The colony is safe. I would much rather study you.”

“But— doesn’t it bother you that in several centuries we may use up this planet and move on?” asked Alice.

“Don’t antagonize the nice alien,” whispered Martham with a nudge.

“Why should it bother me? It is your function. It is how you survive.”

“It’s wrong ,” said Alice.

“I lack moral context for your culture. Determinations of what is acceptable are for you to make, not I. You’re colleagues do not appear to agree with you. They seem very eager to settle here. Do you think they are wrong?”

“It isn’t that simple,” said Titov.

“Which is why I cannot adjudicate such matters.” Issk’ath turned away from them and stared at Blick who had forgotten a small flower in his hand. “That is kilnik. It is useful for paints and dyes.”