Quozl (44 page)

“Compatible, yes, but …”

“It is for the best.”

Turning, he found himself less than a foot from Seams-with-Metal. “As the woman says, it must all come out eventually.”

“Sure. After free travel for all Quozl has been approved. After you've been made citizens. After the colony is so dispersed you can never be locked up in one place again. Once this hits the wire services, the sensationalism, the fear will …”

“Fear of what?” Cindy Greenley sounded genuinely puzzled. “Fear of infection? Fear of rejection? Fear of a new kind of life? I should think the knowledge will make the Quozl more popular than ever, not less.”

“Humans will have to invent a few new words, reflect on new concepts. We will help. Willingly. That is what humans want. That is what humans have always wanted,” Seams said with assurance.

Chad gaped at her. “You knew. You've known all along.”

“My specialty was human studies.” An ear bobbed and earrings jangled musically. “We had the old specimen, then good recordings of you and your sibling. The differences were clearly not insurmountable, to put it precisely. The Burrow Masters know, as do the senior members of my department. The rest of the colony does not. If they did it would be impossible to enforce the law against surface visitation, for curiosity's sake if no other. They will have to be informed.”

“But who would've thought …?”

“It is not something a human would consider, but it is of primary interest to Quozl. Until we reached Shiraz we were convinced we were the only intelligence in the universe. We were shocked to discover it was home to intellectual if not social equals. It was far less surprising to learn that we are compatible in other ways.

“There will be great astonishment on Quozlene when the news is carried there. To do that we must build another ship. That is the sign of Burrow maturity. Azel did it, and Moszine, and even Mazna. Shiraz too will send out its ship, only it will carry back the greatest news of all. The news that we are not alone, that we have friends. Compatible friends. It is a secret we will share with you. Humans will accompany Quozl on the long journey back to Quozlene. Perhaps your grandchildren. Perhaps mine thrice-pouch removed.

“History makes its own rules. So says the Samizene.”

A smooth, seven-fingered hand lightly gripped his shoulder. “Now tell me one thing truly, friend Chad.”

He twitched, startled by the unexpected violation of his Sama. “What?”

Huge violet eyes gazed deeply into his. “Weren't you ever curious about it?”

Beautiful amethyst eyes, he thought. All Quozl had beautiful eyes. Their iris pigmentation was much more intense than that of humans. The corners of her mouth twitched, the closest any Quozl ever came to a recognizable smile.

“It is impossible, friend Chad, to fear those you can love.”

He let her lead him through the chamber. Mindy watched curiously as they disappeared into a storage room. As they closed the door behind them, Chad rested a hand on Seams-with-Metal's fur. It was as soft as the finest chinchilla.

“You know,” he murmured dazedly, “we might be able to keep up with you scientifically, but I'm not sure about everything else.”

XXI.

H
UMAN BEINGS ARE
highly adaptable creatures. After the initial flurry of jokes died down, a complacency took over which ensured the Quozl's acceptance. Television crews, reporters, politicians were welcomed into the Quozl Burrows, though at Chad's suggestion the finest and most extreme examples of Quozl art were initially concealed from visitors' sight. Acceptance still preceded understanding.

The corporation which Arlo had providentially established continued to rake in enormous sums on behalf of the colony as the Quozl were compensated for everything from product endorsements to personal appearances. Quozl experts were dispatched to assist foresters from Finland to Ecuador. Inevitably they traveled first-class, conversing freely with their human fellow passengers. Many leaped at the chance, as Runs-red-Talking and High-red-Chanter had done illegally, to see more of their homeworld.

Nor were they only in demand for commercial purposes. Quozl music became wildly popular, while a serious party simply wasn't an “A” party without at least one Quozl couple in attendance. They mingled easily, their natural curiosity and famed sensuality making them the center of attention wherever they went. They could eat and enjoy many human foods, though alcohol only made them ill. They preferred fruit-flavored drinks.

There were some problems with certain religious groups. After all, if God had made man in his own image, where did that put the Quozl, who were clearly at least as intelligent as any human? The debate was not restricted to one side of the relationship, for certain Quozl philosophers had difficulty accepting the fact that not only weren't the Quozl not the only intelligent creatures in the universe, the other ones were bald giants with tiny eyes and nonexistent ears and feet.

When the extent of crowding at the Burrows was made known, there was an outpouring of sympathy for the poor, claustrophobically confined Quozl. Offers poured in to set up new Quozl communities elsewhere, offers which the Quozl accepted with honest thanks. Everyone wanted a Quozl community in their town. The result was that the Quozl diaspora took place much more rapidly than anyone, least of all the Quozl themselves, could have foreseen.

At first the Quozl had trouble filling all the requests, but with access to the surface came a relaxation on birth control, and the fecund aliens were quickly able to plant families everywhere from central Australia to the Swedish taiga. Their presence was always welcomed, never resented. They ate moderately and their agricultural skills enabled them to generate a surplus of food wherever they settled. They were the most productive refugees in history.

Their ability to tolerate cold made them much in demand as workers in the northernmost climes, and their delicate, seven-fingered hands brought them high wages and great admiration in those industries which required consistent digital skills. Give a Quozl a place to copulate, a little food, access to art, and the company of friends and it would make you rich, so the popular saying went.

In a surprisingly short time the sight of Quozl in their brilliantly hued bodysuits, trailing chromatic scarves and flashing jewelry, was a common sight. They became honored citizens not only of the United States but of most other countries as well.

No matter where they went or what they did, they were always unfailingly, sometimes embarrassingly polite.

They didn't merely mingle, they melted, acquiring property, prestigious degrees, and credit cards. It became popular to adopt young Quozl. Given the traditionally tenuous nature of the extended Quozl families, this was easy to do. Quozl and human alike delighted in the ease, with which the offspring of both species matured side by side.

When the occasional cry was raised that the Quozl were going to conquer the world by simply outbreeding their hosts, the Quozl in those sensitive regions immediately and of their own accord reintroduced birth control procedures. They would not expand where they were not wanted. But since growth zoomed wherever the Quozl settled, such complaints were not very much heard. They were the ideal immigrants.

The paranoia that had existed among Quozl Elders seemed to vanish overnight as they found themselves received with honors wherever they traveled. It was a great relief. Clearly there was plenty of room on Shiraz for two intelligent races, especially when they complimented one another so well. It helped immensely that the Quozl were not clannish. They spread unobtrusively through human society.

Eventually what had once been a joke became reality and Quozl ran for public office. Their self-control and politeness was everywhere appreciated and admired. Quozl officials were not prejudiced for or against anyone, including fellow Quozl. They were also quite incorruptible, though their decisions were as subject to debate as those of any human.

By this time it was no longer possible to conceal the true nature of their art and history. Instead of revulsion it provoked curiosity among the general population, which under the guidance of Quozl philosophers began to re-examine its own background in a new light. After all, humans had their own traditional aberrations. Americans insisted on owning handguns, Latin Americans took most of the afternoon off for siesta, and the French revered Jerry Lewis, so who could criticize the Quozl for portraying violence in their art when their actual social behavior was impeccable?

Integration was finally considered complete when the Quozl, in their own deferential, courteous fashion, began making human jokes in mixed company.

Instead of feeling threatened by the Quozl, humanity felt protective toward them. They were fast but fragile. And very, very friendly.

By the time Chad reached middle age the Quozl were no longer a novelty. It was difficult to imagine what the world had been like before their arrival. Unable to work at his chosen profession (and with no need to) he withdrew into the upper level of the Quozl corporation. Arlo remained its nominal chief executive while actually sharing duties with his wife, Mindy. As the first human to make contact with the Quozl, Chad was an international celebrity, too valuable to waste his time shuffling petrie dishes in an obscure laboratory.

Somewhat reluctantly he wore the mantle the press had woven for him, drove the fancy car and lived in the private compound. Uncomfortable in a crowd, he was compelled to learn how to deliver speeches. Public relations demanded it. His advice was sought constantly by giant corporations and private individuals seeking to do business with the Quozl.

Small wars stopped. With their understanding of violence the Quozl were able to provide insights which made such conflicts appear foolish to any would-be participants. Combat lost its appeal while interest in sublimated forms of violence soared. Mankind retained its competitive spirit without the companion bloodshed. As the Quozl explained, war was a disease of the individual human psyche, rooted in the imbalance between the sexes. The tendency was inherited, but also curable. By their very existence the Quozl proved that war was not the inevitable consequence of advanced technology.

Human history showed them that every single conflict could be traced to sexual frustration or motivation, including those originally thought to have been fought over religion. Mankind found such revelations difficult to face, but that is the nature of truth. It is invariably uncomfortable, but far easier to accept with the help of friends.

XXII.

S
TRANGE TO BE
back in the Burrows after so many years, Chad thought as he made his way down the corridor. It was a restricted area, but nothing on the planet was off-limits to Chad Collins. Celebrity had its privileges.

It was equally strange to have white hair and have to walk with a cane because of bursitis, but that was also truth. He didn't worry about bumping into a Quozl in the dim light. No Quozl lived in these Burrows anymore. They had dwelt underground out of necessity and not by choice. Now they lived in places like Kiev and Rangoon and Vladivostok.

But the Burrows were not devoid of life. The technicians and curators who maintained it as an entertainment park and museum were always around, busy at their tasks. The colony had been turned into a major tourist attraction that was visited by millions every year, with rides and moving sidewalks and audiovisuals. The economy of Boise, the nearest large city, had boomed, and the tiny town of Bonanza which had long ago played host to a clutch of oddly matched hikers had finally lived up to its name.

The art which lined the walls and dominated the open places in all their garish, gory glory were reproductions. The original Quozl works had traveled to new homes with the Quozl as they migrated, or else they now reposed in honored niches of the world's finest museums. The old Burrow workshops were now filled with Quozl artists who churned out decorations for homes, city squares, and private collections. There was a surprisingly large market among humans for the most depraved and bloodthirsty works the artisans could produce. Or perhaps now that the Quozl have helped us to know ourselves it was not so surprising, Chad thought.

Having initially encountered mankind-at-large in a place called Disneyland, it was not so ironic that the original colony site should end up as a similar sort of facility.

Within the Burrows, trained Quozl demonstrated ancient Quozl rites and donned archaic costume not only to delight visiting humans but also to instruct their own young, who had been born on Shiraz and knew of a planet called Quozlene only through recordings. To them it seemed a lonely place, a world inhabited by Quozl alone, empty of clumsy, powerful human companions.

It had all turned out so well, Chad mused as he shuffled along his chosen route. Not at all the way it had been depicted in dozens of old movies and books. Everyone had underestimated the affection two intelligent races could have for one another.

Not to mention other things not even guessed at.

Besides serving as a venue for entertainment and education, the old colony had one other purpose, it was often utilized for ceremonial occasions. The Quozl loved ceremony and delighted in re-enacting their colorful if bloody history, rich as it was in ritual and pomp.

Today would see the investiture of a new Senior Elder. There were only seven of them, a tribute to the old Council of Seven. Though not wholly ceremonial in nature, the office was something of an ultimate honor. It carried no power with it because there was no Quozl nation. Only Quozl history and Quozl art.

Age was still respected, and the honor of the office lay in the respect paid to it, much as Catholics looked to the Pope and neurotics to their favorite astrologer. Mindy would have enjoyed this, Chad thought to himself. In the old days she'd have fashioned a new script out of it. There was no longer a
Quozltime
show, of course. In the presence of real Quozl it was not needed. The Quozl were fine actors in their own traditional and in human plays, save for the fact that nothing could induce them to smile.