“No, but the effects can be neutralized if we can get close to their equipment, which can then be destroyed. After all, we are the inventive geniuses, not the Contisuyuns.” He lapsed into a contemplative silence before commenting further.
“It will take the self-repairing instrumentation of our ship a while to restructure itself. Meanwhile we will aid you in seeing to it that the Contisuyuns do not misuse our technology. We will help if such help is in order, so that those marooned on your world do not act with hostile intent.”
A soft hiss sounded from the vicinity of Carter’s boots. Looking down, he saw that Macha had decided to vacate her perch and rejoin them. Now she was confronting something whose arrival none of the humans had noticed. The two animals circled each other slowly, curious and unaggressive.
The new arrival was slightly larger than Macha. While neither ocelot nor margay it was as indubitably feline as its presence was puzzling.
“Where’d this little guy come from?” he wondered aloud.
Quite unexpectedly, Shorty tilted forward to stroke the cat’s spine with the tip of a root-tentacle. “This is”—the mental projection sounded vaguely like “Grinsaw”—“our companion.”
“Oh, I get it.” Ashwood smiled. “You guys picked up some cats on your earlier visits.”
“Not at all,” said Crease. “Cats have always been among us, from our earliest days on Booj. They are quite charming company. In fact, every civilized society we have encountered coexists with cats. Their presence among your kind bodes well for your future.”
“But cats evolved here,” Igor insisted. “They are native to this world.”
“Can you be certain of that?” Crease pressed him.
“Well, no. I mean, I have not been around for the entire duration of vertebrate evolution. It is simply what I was taught in school.”
The Boojum was understanding. “And I’ll bet you wouldn’t recognize a mimsy borogove if it displazed right on your head. You people have much to learn, what?”
“They seem to be hitting it off,” Carter commented. He was far more interested in Macha’s immediate well-being than in possibly conflicting histories of her ancestors. The two cats were darting hither and yon now, cavorting about rocks and bushes with all the comportment of a couple of old friends.
“Are there any other transmitters hidden on Earth?” he asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him.
“No. Only the one here and the two at Nazca. Transmitters are intended for mass transit. Isolated visitations are always carried out by ship.”
“If you will convey us to Nazca by domestic means,” Tree informed them, “we will see to it that any technology of ours which the Contisuyuns intend to pervert to inimical ends is rendered permanently dysfunctional.”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy,” Carter replied.
“What complications do you foresee?” the Boojum asked him.
“Well, for one thing, we can’t just stroll into Cuzco in the company of three giant ambulatory vegetables.”
“Ah, quite,” said Crease. “It is noted that we resemble your flora somewhat more than your fauna, and that this disparity could engender some comment.”
Igor had been devoting some thought to the obvious problem. “Why don’t we turn that to our advantage?”
“Kid, you been out in the heat too long,” Ashwood said.
The guide was quite serious. “Many times have I helped scientists take their precious specimens down the river to Puerto Maldonado for shipment back to Europe or the U.S. If our friends can remain motionless when necessary we can simply tell the curious that we are carrying three large and important botanical specimens to Cuzco for shipment to America.” He eyed the aliens.
“You can act like plants for a little while, can’t you?”
Carter quickly warmed to the idea. “We can say that their devices are scientific instruments. I can pass myself off as a botanist. I played a microbiologist in Red Plague from Orion.”
“There is no plague in Orion,” Shorty insisted. “Only antisocial agitators.”
“What about the park rangers?” Ashwood wondered.
“I will deal with them in the unlikely event we encounter any,” Igor assured her.
“This will be jolly amusing.” Crease was pleased. “We are agreed.”
“Good. Now I got a question.” Ashwood stood quite close to the bulky Boojum. “If you ain’t got no mouths, how do you eat?”
“Infrequently,” Crease informed her. “Except for our minds, our metabolisms are quite slow. That is why we live to what you would consider a great age.” The leading edge of his base curled up slightly to reveal the cilia beneath. “There is a mouth in the center of our locomotive digits.”
“So you sit in your food. Great. Remind me not to invite you to my next fancy dinner party.”
“There is one small related problem which I might as well mention now. While we do not need to eat often, our continued good health requires the regular ingestion of certain important trace elements. Due to our awkward landing, our total supply was destroyed on impact.”
“That’s terrible,” Carter said.
“Not to fear. Our records indicate that a vast natural source of the necessary nutrients is present in this part of your world, so we anticipate no difficulty in obtaining them as necessary.”
“What about leaving your ship here?”
“As you can see, it is quite effective at altering its appearance to match its surroundings. It does this automatically. Once sealed, I do not think it will be noticed.”
Igor nodded approvingly. “How much equipment are you going to need to take care of any Contisuyuns who still want to fight?”
“Very little,” Crease told him.
Ashwood grunted approval. “That’s good,’ cause if we make it out of this stinkin’ sauna, the only place this woman’s gonna backpack to from now on is the nearest market.”
