Providence - Max Barry Page 0,90
resin attached to his limbs and back, it also flowed smoothly into the wall with no visible join. He was welded there.
“They’ve taken me underground,” he told his recorder. This in itself was notable: Salamanders hadn’t often been observed on planets, and when they had been, they hadn’t burrowed. “From the look of the walls, they carved out these tunnels. Maybe it’s a base of some kind. I’ll record everything from now. I have”—he checked—“twenty-six hours of power. Maybe this will make its way back to Service somehow.”
He fell silent.
“I don’t know why they brought me here.” He could think of some ideas. Food. Torture. But these were products of fear, not observation. He shouldn’t waste the recorder on them. “If I can figure that out, maybe I can learn something about their motivations.”
Some time passed. After an hour or two, he heard a noise, warbled through his suit, and a salamander emerged from the tunnel. At first he thought it was the same worker, but it was slightly smaller, with wider eyes and a bluish hue to its skin. Its back was pockmarked with white ridges like scar tissue. At each end of its mouth were parts that might have been whiskers or else thin tentacles. It stopped and rose onto its hind legs. “Pak!”
“Crap,” he said, because that had scared him.
It dropped to the floor, shifted closer, and reared again. “Pak. Pak.” Its mouthparts waved.
“Don’t hurt me,” he said.
“Pak pak.”
He tugged uselessly at his bonds. The salamander watched mutely. When he stopped, it shuffled closer.
“No! Go back!”
It seemed to register his intent, retreating a few steps.
“Yes! Yes. Stay there.”
It regarded him unblinkingly with pupilless eyes. After a moment, it approached again.
“No!” he said.
Again it shuffled back. A few moments passed. Its head tilted expectantly.
“Yes,” Gilly said.
Its neck arched. A sound came out of its throat. “Nok! Nok! Nok!” It bent, as if trying to coax the sound from somewhere deeper inside. “Yek! Yek!”
He stared.
“Pak pak,” said the salamander. When he didn’t respond, it moved closer.
“No!”
“Nok.” It retreated a few steps. “Yek. Yek.” And then closer again. “Nok.”
He checked that the recorder was running. “It’s talking. It’s learning to talk.” The salamander began moving again, so he said, “No!” to send it back. It was definitely testing him. Its movements were inquisitive. Almost playful. He thrust his chin toward his right arm. “Can you let me out? Take off this resin?”
Its head tilted.
“The resin. Yek?” It took some coaxing to approach him. He was refining the meaning of yek, he realized, employing it for affirmation, rather than stop or go away. But finally it reared before him. Its head lowered and it drooled a clear liquid. He felt the resin loosening, and with effort managed to pull his arm free from the wall. “Yes! Yek!”
“Yek.”
He gestured to his other arm. “Now this.” It didn’t move. “This one. Yek. Do it again.”
“Nok.”
“Yek. This one.”
“Nok.”
“Yek!” Gilly said, trying a more commanding voice. The salamander was unmoved. “It’s not stupid,” he said, for his recorder. “It doesn’t want to let me free.” They watched each other for a few moments. He pointed to his chest. “Gilly.”
“Pak pak.”
“Gilly.” He pointed to the salamander. “Salamander.”
“Sssak. Mak mak.”
“Salamander.”
“Sak. Mak. Tar.”
“Yek!” he said. Pointing to himself: “Gilly.”
It made several abortive attempts at the noise. He watched muscle ripple beneath its skin, although its face didn’t change at all, remaining lizardlike in its lack of expression. Still, he sensed curiosity in its movements. He was dealing with an inquisitive mind, not a hostile one. “Gik. Kik. Gikky.”
“Gikky. Yek.”
It waited patiently, still as stone, not even appearing to breathe. What now? he wondered. He didn’t know what you did with an alien after the introductions. “Can you let out my other arm? This?” He pointed. “Yek?”
“Nok.”