The configuration of Disrupted Procedure had been replaced by Satisfaction in the Vanity of Earthly Effort. He expected the One to fail. The One looked to the other human, whose configurations were so amorphous and changeable, but whose mind projected such sharp visualizations.
The One saw the control board for this Bay, with the appropriate panels lit in a glowing red outline. He went to the board and touched the first switch.
“Hey!” said the supervisor. “I didn’t say to do it. Just point.”
The One pointed here, and there, and there. He stood away from the panel.
The supervisor looked disgusted. “It’s not our policy to hire aliens,” he said again.
The other human said, “We’re almost at Blackout, and we’re low on techs. If he doesn’t work out, we can let him off on the other side.”
“Sectors away from where he started? Well, if he doesn’t care, I don’t. You hear me, alien?” The supervisor raised his voice, and spoke slowly. He was used to Outsiders who had trouble with Diamond speech. “You don’t care if we let you out in some other sector? We got places to go, here, right?”
“Fine, good,” said the One. He did not risk further words now, for a misunderstanding would be catastrophic. This phrase had served him well at the port and on the Station.
“Fine, good,” repeated the supervisor. “Well, put Fine and Good in the group that’s staying, okay, Davey? And tell him to keep out of the way, he makes me nervous.”
The One found himself led to a place farther along the deck, where applicants were waiting to be given identification. He was very pleased. The Crown was definitely near, closer than it had been any time since he woke up.
He waited patiently, and the First God smiled on him. Two humans were walking along the docks—one was plump and older, the other was thinner and younger. The other, whoever he was, bore the marks of the Crown in his aura. It was a strange aura of pearllike translucency, such as he had never seen before on any human, but clearly marked by the Crown. As they walked closer, the One revised his opinion—the second was thinner, but not younger; physically he resembled the younger humans, but the background support for his configuration showed the complex overlayering that accumulated with the passage of years.
The One did not wait (it would not please the First God to show hesitation before his gift.) but went at once to the human who was marked and took his arm. “Sir and brother,” the words spilled out, “I see you have touched the Crown. Joy between us! And to your friend, too! Joy between us!” He shook the human’s hand enthusiastically, as he had been trained to do long before.
They were clearly startled. Startled and—oh, dear— annoyed. They didn’t comprehend, he was at fault, he’d not made clear the truth—if only his brother were here—
“What’s this fellow saying?” asked the plump one. A man, not a woman, the One was nearly certain, although bundled in this clothing they would be hard to distinguish.
“I can’t make it out,” replied the other.
“He’s crazy. Ignore him, and let’s get on.”
But the other was staring. “How did they take an alien on board? Look, Spider—look at his face.”
The plump one shivered. “Argh. He gives me the creeps. Let’s just go, Tal.”
“No, wait” He still stared at the One. “I don’t recognize the species. You! Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The One understood perfectly, and only wished he could be understood as well. His own thoughtless exhilaration was to blame. This human’s configuration was the clearest he had ever seen or expected to see—it was amazing how the species had developed. It should be child’s play to make his words mold a configuration like that.
He aimed his words at the pattern, with the sureness that only one who speaks the truth can bring. “I said, sir and brother, that I see you are one who has touched the Crown. I am joyed by our meeting. Are you not expecting me? I am the One Newly Awakened—the Guardian of the Crown. I was Left Behind.”
The human called Spider said, “Can’t make head nor tail of it.”
But the other said slowly, “I’m not sure if I was expecting you or not. Could you wait here a moment?”
The One smiled; his human brother’s pattern was overlaid with wariness. His configuration had changed to Surprising Reappraisal. It was beautiful how clear it was, it could bring tears to one’s sacs. He said, “Please. I am only here to serve and help.”
Tal was looking around the deck. “Where’s the nearest link?”
“What’s going on?” asked Spider.
“I think Adrian had better talk to this one.”
“How can Adrian talk to him? You can’t understand a word he says.”
Tal lowered his voice and said, “I think it’s possible he’s a Curosa.”
Spider stared at the One in shock. “He doesn’t look like a Curosa. Not like the ones in the pictures.”
“Curosa-derived, then. He says the people who left us the Crown left him here as a guardian.”
“When did he say that?”
But Tal, not spotting a link within acceptable reach, went back to the One. “Do you have a name?”
The One lowered his head. “Not as yet. If you wish to name me, I would be honored.”
“Thanks, no, we’ll skip it for now. Tell me—how did you know I had anything to do with the Crown? Did somebody tells you?”
“Its mark is in your aura.” The One gestured toward Tal’s head. “It’s very clear. Has no one remarked on the change in it to you?”
Tal hesitated. “It must have slipped their minds. Listen: I’d like to take you to our person in charge here. I know he’ll be very interested in meeting you, is that all right?”
“Of course, sir and brother.”
Tal paused again. “I’m not
