Foreigner by Robert J. Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

“You’re free of the territorial instinct.”
    “True.”
    “Something about these Others sets off that instinct,” said Babnol. “The sight of them, or maybe their pheromones. Something.”
    “It wasn’t pheromones,” said Keenir. “The one Toroca and I saw was downwind of us.” He looked out over the waters. “The sun is setting. We should get back to the Dasheter.”
    “What about the bodies?” said Toroca.
    “What do you mean?” asked Babnol.
    “I mean, what do we do with them? Do we just leave them on the beach?”
    “What else?” said Keenir, aghast. “You’re not suggesting we take them back to the ship as food?”
    Toroca wrinkled his muzzle in disgust. “No, of course not. But we should do something with them.” He leaned back on his tail. “If we’re going to have any further contact with the natives here,we’ve got two choices. Either we try to explain to them what happened — offer our apologies and let them do with the bodies whatever they normally do. Or we hide the bodies and hope that suspicion for the disappearance of these two individuals never falls on us.”
    Babnol looked at Toroca. She was an unusual Quintaglio herself, having retained her birthing horn into adulthood. The fluted cone cast a shadow across her muzzle. “I suggest we simply hightail it back to the Dasheter and get as far away from these islands as possible. They’re evil, Toroca.”
    Toroca looked surprised. “Evil? That’s the same word the captain used before you joined us. In any event, we’ve got to explore these islands; that’s the whole point of the Geological Survey. But as to whether we, ah, admit involvement with these deaths…”
    “Don’t do it,” said Keenir. “How could we explain what we did? We can’t even fathom it ourselves. No, we’ll take the bodies back out in the shore boats, tie rocks to their ankles, and dump them overboard when we’re far from shore.”
    Babnol’s voice was distressed, and her tail moved in agitated ways. “I don’t feel right about doing that.”
    “Nor do I,” agreed the captain. “But since we don’t know anything about these people, it’s best we not make our initial presentation of ourselves to them as … as…”
    “Murderers,” said Toroca.
    Keenir sighed. “Yes.”
    Toroca’s turn to sound uncomfortable. “If we are going to take the corpses, please don’t dump them overboard. I’d like to, ah, study them.”
    “Very well,” said Keenir. A pause, and then, his voice heavy: “Let’s fetch them.”
    And they set out to do just that. The one that Keenir had killed was still nearby. Wingfingers were picking at the gaping wounds, but they took flight as soon as the Quintaglios approached. Spalton and the captain carried the corpse to the shore boat and began paddling back to the Dasheter. Toroca and Babnol covered the bloodstained ground with clean sand, then headed down the beach. They came to where the vegetation jutted into the water and made their way through the growth until they arrived at where Babnol and Spalton had encountered their Other.
    “Uh-oh,” said Babnol, her head swiveling left and right.
    The second body was gone.

*5*
    Nav-Mokleb’s Casebook
    Word of the talking cure is spreading, apparently. I’ve received an imperial summons asking me to take on a new patient. I’d hoped that the subject was going to be Emperor Dy-Dybo himself. I thought he might be having emotional difficulties, stemming from the challenge to his leadership two kilodays ago. True, he’d acquitted himself well in the battle with the blackdeath, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were residual problems. After all, he did see six apprentice governors die in front of his eyes, and, as if that weren’t bad enough, he’d had to chew his own arms off.
    But, no, my new patient isn’t quite that highly placed in the government. Still, Sal-Afsan should be an interesting case nonetheless. I’ve been reviewing what is generally known about