The Xenocide Mission by Ben Jeapes Read Free Book Online

where it goes and what it does. It might show us interesting things, and it probably has a better idea of how to look after its kind than we do. Now, please do it.’
    ‘An armed guard? I’ll follow it personally,’ Stormer muttered. ‘Well, as the Learned Mother pleases. We’d better revive them.’
    ‘How do you do that?’
    ‘Nothing simpler.’ Stormer kicked over to Long and slapped his hands together loudly. ‘Get moving! Come on! The Learned Mother has come halfway across the solar system to see you! On your feet!’
    Long twitched, its eyes opened, and it recoiled at the sight of Stormer hanging over it. It may not have understood the words but it seemed to understand the gestures, and it slowly freed an arm and released the tabs that opened the hammock up. It came free and pushed itself gently off the wall. Even in free fall, Oomoing fancied she saw a measured caution about its movements.
    Oomoing drank in the sight. The transmissions she had received on the way here still hadn’t done the creature justice. It was long and lanky – a thin torso, small head topped by a short, fuzzy mane of dark brown hair, four feeble limbs; all part of a stretched body much taller than the colonel or any other male, though only a head or so above Oomoing’s own height. Its skin was pale pink and looked clammy to the touch.
    The eyes were recognizable – at least, Oomoing assumed that was what they were, though she had to remind herself to take nothing for granted. Still, they were in roughly the same place as a Kin’s own eyes, and as the eye had evolved independently on Homeworld in a multitude of species, she didn’t see why extraterrestrials shouldn’t have something similar. She wondered how much of the spectrum they could take in. Between them was something else sticking out from the face – she presumed it was some kind of extraterrestrial organ and reserved judgement for the time being on what it might be for. Long was wearing two garments – one covering the haunches, with its legs sticking out below, and one wrapped round its torso with its arms and head sticking out of their respective holes at the upper end of the body.
    Its limbs were drawn up together and it was rubbing itself. There was a very thin pelt on the arms and the legs, and the hairs there – but not on the head, for some reason – were standing upright. Oomoing could understand perfectly: it was hardly wearing anything, and it was very cold in here.
    ‘The Learned Mother wants to see you, so move over here,’ Stormer shouted, but Oomoing was already moving towards it. She looked into Long’s eyes; each had a white background, a blue circle and a dark pupil within it. She wanted to feel the creature, see if the skin really was as clammy as it looked, learn the texture of that fuzz on the top of the head, so she reached out.
    Long’s pupils dilated and with an incoherent shout –
Where from? Which organ did it use for speech?
– it leapt across the room. It came to a rest with its back against the wall, the other side of the chamber.
    ‘Stand to!’ Stormer shouted, though his guards at the entrance to the chamber already had their guns at the ready.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ Oomoing said. ‘It knows better than to argue.’ She looked at Long in fascination. That stance, that reaction reminded her of . . . yes, she had it. She studied Long with her stalker senses; amplified vision, smell, hearing. She could hear a fast-thumping heart beat. The smell of extraterrestrial was suddenly stronger. Its respiration was right up . . .
    ‘I think it’s frightened,’ she said. ‘Even terrified.’
    ‘Frightened?’ Stormer said scornfully. ‘You think it’s just an animal?’
    ‘I didn’t say that. Maybe its species kept the fear sense when they became sentient.’
    Stormer plainly thought her on-the-fly theory was evolutionist nonsense, but he wasn’t going to say so. ‘What would it have to be frightened of, Learned Mother?’ he said.