The Great Hydration

Hurrying to the Pavilion of Audience, they met a strange scene. The Crome, their enemy, was present. But so were two humanoids they could not identify, strangers of a pale greenish-yellow colour who stood with heads bowed before the lordly Tlixix. Around them were scattered a number of objects whose purpose was not clear.

Rherrsherrsh, the majestic Market Master, waved something in a manipulatory stalk.

“Come closer, Analane. Take this.”

Gingerly Hrityu reached up and accepted the object. He inspected it curiously. It was a flat, rectangular box, surprisingly light for its size, made of a substance that was neither glass nor metal. Coloured strips and tabs decorated its surface.

“Do you confirm that this is your missing property?” the Tlixix rasped.

Hrityu looked again at the box, puzzled. “Why, no, Market Master. This is not our radiator. Our machine is much larger. What this is, I cannot say.”

A rustling sigh came from within the transparent tents.

“You have never seen it before?”

“Never, Market Master.”

Rherrsherrsh pointed his snout at the pale-skinned ones. His white eyes glistened.

Boris Bouche licked his lips. “We spoke the truth, Market Master,” he said. “We come from another world. Allow us to prove it with a demonstration of our alienness.”

“Proceed.”

Bouche stepped to one of the water drums and unscrewed the cap. Using a ladle clipped to the side of the container, he dipped into its cool contents.

“Water, Market Master. We need it to stay alive, just as you do.”

He was, as a matter of fact, feeling thirsty. He gulped down the water, ending with a sigh of satisfaction.

The dehydrate humanoids stared in stunned amazement. Even the Tlixix waved to and fro in their consternation.

“To any but ourselves water is poison!”

Krabbe took the ladle from Bouche and also dipped, swallowing a mouthful, then replacing the screw cap. He turned to face the Tlixix.

“That is because yours is a dried-out world, Market Master. The worlds where we live have plenty of water. It’s the basis of our form of life.”

“Then you are as we are.”

Krabbe grinned broadly. “That’s it. We are just like you.”

Rherrsherrsh’s eyes became moist with excitement as he leaned towards the humans. “And do you come to our world to trade?”

“That’s it again, Market Master. We do indeed come to trade.”

In the dust of the concourse the Analane looked at one another in bewilderment. They had been ushered from the pavilion before the strangers could divulge their intentions any further, as had the lone Crome, but that scarcely interested them in their dismay.

“All is lost,” Kurwer murmured dejectedly.

Hrityu squared his thin shoulders. “Do not say that! There is still hope.”

The Crome eyed the two haughtily and stepped forward.

“The Tlixix appear to think the apparatus you boast of really exists,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it does, after all. I, however, did not steal it.”

“Not you?” Hrityu challenged heatedly. “Who but you could possibly have a motive!”

“To that I have no answer,” shrugged the Crome. “For a moment there, I was afraid the Market Master would cancel the permission he has already given for our onslaught—”

“Already?” Kurwer gasped.

The Crome grinned mercilessly. “It seems that in the excitement you were not informed. Yes, already. We attack in thirty courses of the sun. You will recall that we entered a plea for your extermination. While that was not expressly approved, it was not forbidden either. That’s good enough for us.”

“The Tlixix almost never allow extermination! You would not dare! There would have to be a compelling reason!”

“Almost never?” taunted the Crome. “Well, let me see what examples come to mind. Were not the Sliss exterminated, not long ago?”

“They had shrunk to no more than a hundred in number! We Analane number thousands!”

“Yes, thousands who have been destroying the prickle-stalks on which alone the Crome can live!” The Crome’s tone had turned from haughtiness to indignation. “In another few turns of the sun it would be we who are extinct! There is your compelling reason, Analane! Your vile mould will do nothing to sustain us!”

With those words he turned his back on them and strode off.

Hrityu found that he was shivering.

“Did you hear that?” Kurwer said in a low voice. “The prickle-stalk campaign must have been more successful than we thought. They are on the verge of starvation!”

“Our aim was to reduce their numbers, not to wipe them out completely,” Hrityu pointed out mildly. “Their reaction is out of proportion.”

A Gaminte approached and handed over the flingers taken from them when they entered the Pavilion of Audience. Disconsolately they walked down the concourse.

“What shall we do?” Kurwer said. “We cannot return home with such colossal failure on our consciences.”

“We must continue to search for the radiator.” Hrityu paused. “Who were the strangers in the pavilion? I have never seen their like before. Their equipment looked interesting.”