“It’d help us,” said Left, “if we knew who we were talking to. Do you mind giving us your name?”
“No names,” said Rykte. “Never any names.”
“No call to be hostile,” said Right. “We’ve known you so long and yet we don’t know what to call you.”
“I like it better that way.”
“All right, all right,” said Left, waving his hands. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we, Mr….”
“Who sent you?” asked Rykte again.
“Who sent us?” said Left. “We’re the same ones as before. There’s only one group you ever see, unless there are others we don’t know about.”
“If I remember correctly,” he said, “last time I told you to go away and never come back.”
“Something like that, something like that,” admitted Right. “And we really did intend to respect your request—have, in fact, respected it for a number of years. How long has it been, Oleg?” he said, turning to the other. “Five years? Six?”
“More like five, Olaf,” said Oleg, then turned to Rykte. “You see,” he said. “Nothing wrong with calling someone by his name. Olaf and I do it all the time.”
“Five it is, then,” said Olaf. “Which you have to admit, is a long time, almost as long as forever. And as I said before, we wouldn’t have bothered to come now unless we desperately needed you.”
“We need your help,” said Oleg.
“What kind of help do you need?” asked Rykte. “Food?”
“Well…,” said Olaf. “Food is good. Nobody can be indifferent to food. But what we’re talking about here is a more serious issue of survival.”
“There’s a mountain,” said Oleg. “Made all of granite. Inside the mountain lives a group of beings like you.”
“Like me,” said Rykte. “What am I like, according to you?”
“You know,” said Olaf. “Hairless. More or less impervious. That sort of thing.”
“Nice people, I’m sure,” said Oleg. “Just like I’m sure you yourself are at heart. Never met them myself. Only heard about them.”
“You’re getting off track,” said Rykte.
“Anyway,” said Olaf. “These people stole something, something that we desperately need back.”
“We need you to help us get it back,” said Oleg.
“We don’t travel well. It’s too hot out here for us,” said Olaf. “We need someone like you.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“We don’t have anyone else to ask,” said Oleg. “Without you, our people will die. Will you help us?”
“Please?” said Olaf.
“No,” said Rykte.
“No?”
“Can you really be saying no? We’re not asking much of you. Can’t you at least think about it?”
Rykte sighed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Come back in five years, and I’ll give you my answer.”
Oleg turned to Olaf. “He’s not taking us seriously,” he said in a stage whisper.
“No, he’s not,” said Olaf.
They turned back to Rykte. “I’m going to ask you again,” said Oleg. “And this time I’ll say please. Did I forget to say please before?”
“You did,” said Olaf, “but I said it for you.”
“Please,” said Oleg. “We need you. It won’t take more than a day or two of your time. Please, help us.”
Rykte didn’t answer; he stayed at the window, brandishing his shotgun.
They waited in silence. Finally, Oleg said, “I’m beginning to get angry.”
“Perfectly understandable,” said Olaf. “Who wouldn’t in our shoes?”
“I’m beginning to wonder what’s stopping me from killing you,” said Oleg. “You won’t help us, you just sit out here on your own, ignoring everybody around you. That’s not very neighborly. What good are you? Why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“Try it and find out.”
“He’s right,” said Olaf. “You might get one of us, but you probably wouldn’t get both of us. There’s two of us, and only one of you.”
“Actually,” said Horkai, “there’s two of him.”
“Two of him?” said Oleg. “Who said that?”
“I did,” said Horkai.
“Do you have a name?” asked Olaf.
“His name is none of your business,” said Rykte.
“I recognize his voice,” said Oleg. “Is Horkai in there with you?”
“Horkai?” said Olaf. “What are you doing in there? What happened to the mission? Why didn’t you come back?”
“It’s us,” said Oleg. “Oleg and Olaf. You remember us, don’t you? We’re your friends.”
“How could he forget us?” asked Olaf.
“Well put, Olaf,” said Oleg. “Horkai,” he said. “If it is in fact you, what happened? Couldn’t you get in? Were you unable to find the cylinder?”
“You should have at least returned to debrief,” said Olaf.
“Did you panic? Go rogue?” asked Oleg.
“Know what happened?” said Olaf. “Weeks after you left, they came. Four of them, or maybe five, hairless bastards just like you but wearing tunics, scarily serene. One of them had a head that looked like it had been crumpled up, eye still growing back, jaw slowly mending, the skin strange and milky in the way that happens with your kind. Wasn’t pretty. I’m guessing you did that to him.”
“You know who they wanted?” asked Oleg.
“Rhetorical question,” said Olaf. “Obviously, they wanted you.”
“But they didn’t find you,” said Oleg.
“No, they didn’t,” said Olaf. “But that didn’t stop them from turning the place upside down. All in the name of goodness and brotherhood, of course, though they weren’t above a little casual torture.”
“As you’d know if you could see the burns through our suits,” said Oleg. “Do we blame you, Horkai? Yes, yes, we do.”
“And yet,” said Olaf. “And yet, we forgive you. You must have gotten it. You must have taken it from them —why else would they have come looking for you?” He extended a hand. “You should give it to us,” he said.
“And return with us to debrief,” said Oleg.
“Like a good little boy,” said Olaf.
“You boys are getting worked up,” said Rykte calmly. “I think it’s time for both of you to move along.”
“Move along?” said Olaf. “Christ, we were just starting to get somewhere.”
“And Horkai wants to come with us, don’t you, Horkai?” said Oleg.
“I don’t think so,” said Horkai.
“Ah,” said Olaf. “So it is you.”
“What if it is?” said Horkai.
“Ignore them,” said Rykte.
“How’s your illness?” asked Oleg.
“Still being sure to take steps to prevent it from moving up your spine?” asked Olaf.
“There is no illness,” said Horkai.
“No illness?” said Oleg. “No, there’s an illness, it just hasn’t manifested itself fully yet. What, you stopped taking preventive measures? You think just because you can survive out here, you’re immune to everything?”
“You poor deluded soul,” said Olaf. “I feel sorry for you.”
“There is no—,” Horkai had started to say when Rykte’s shotgun went off. Horkai jumped. Puffs of dust rose off what was left of a telephone pole over the heads of the pair in hazard suits. Both of them flinched, began patting
