Free Alien Child by Pamela Sargent Page B

separated from others of her own kind, but their companionship had eased that loss a little. She could know that her existence had given Llipel some solace.
    But what would happen if Llipel and Llare left the Institute? She and Sven would have no purpose. They would learn what they could from the library, knowledge that had no goal except passing the time until death. They might leave this place, but would find no other people. They might have closeness that would end in a fight. They could go to the cold place and revive other companions, but if others like them lived, they might only bring more death to this world.
    “Maybe we’re the ones who’ll have to leave the Institute,” she said. “I’d do that before I’d hurt Llipel, whatever secrets she’s kept.” Her own impatience and growing distrust might push her into acting against her guardian; perhaps suspicion and fear were the first signs of her kind’s violent time.
    Sven stood up. “Come on. I should show you how the catalogue works.”
    She shook her head. “I want to see some of what you found—about the wars and what our people did. You can show it to me now.”
    “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
    “If I see the worst about our people and get it over with, I’ll be prepared for anything else. Maybe it’s better to see it instead of imagining all kinds of things.”
    “If that’s what you want.” He picked up his screen and sat down next to her.
     
     
    Sven was murmuring to his screen, speaking of the records he wished to show. The first images revealed winged objects soaring over barren land and striking targets; others showed beams shooting out from globes that seemed to be orbiting Earth. A voice spoke of devices that could irradiate a city and kill its inhabitants, while leaving most of the buildings unmarked; another spoke of chemicals that poisoned land and water, and of microbes that could spread disease. Chemical symbols and images of microbes flickered on the screen. She had not imagined that there were so many ways to kill.
    Images of large vehicles with treads were now moving across her screen, followed by helmeted figures carrying heavy rods. “That’s how wars seemed to start,” Sven said. “They’d use their smaller weapons first, ones that could kill only a few people or bring down a few aircraft. They’d destroy part of a city with bombs or try to get control of the other side’s important places. They fought on the water, too, in ships that floated and ones that could go under the water.” She saw winged vessels rise from what looked like a floating platform.
    They had sent death into the air, over land, into Earth’s oceans. She shuddered; they had surrounded themselves with death. “Didn’t they see what they were doing?” she said faintly. “Why couldn’t they stop?”
    “They would, after a while, and then they’d fight some more. When they couldn’t kill enough people with smaller weapons, they’d use more destructive ones. Sometimes they’d get scared of what they were doing, and sometimes they didn’t seem to care after a while. It must have been like a game to some of them, the ones who weren’t there to see people actually die. They’d just see diagrams on a screen, or people who might as well have been just images. Maybe that’s how their violent time made them see others.”
    She closed her eyes, hating what she was.
    “Have you seen enough?” Sven asked.
    “Is that the worst of it?”
    “No.” His voice was strained. “I think the worst for me were the last images the mind received before it lost contact with the outside.”
    “Then I’ll look at those, too.”
    He touched her arm lightly for a moment. “Nita—”
    “Go on. Call them up.”
    He muttered to his screen. She saw what might have been a room, crowded with people; many were lying on the floor. Their faces were disfigured with sores or peeling skin; a few were only children. “These people are dying of a disease