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Copyright (C)1994 by Mike Resnick
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To Carol, as always,
And to the lovely ladies of GEnie
Susan Casper
Beth Meacham
Pat Cadigan
Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Barbara Delaplace
Michelle Sagara
Esther Friesner
Josepha Sherman
Lea Hernandez
Susan Shwartz
Nina Kiriki Hoffman
Janna Silverstein
Kij Johnson
Janni Simner
Katherine Kerr
Martha Soukup
Terry McGarry
Judith Tarr
Maureen McHugh
Jane Yolen
Each and every one a rare miracle
1.
Xavier William Lennox shuffled down the narrow, twisting street, trying to mimic the awkward walk of the
Fireflies. He breathed in the pungent odors of decaying food, felt a slight burning sensation in his nostrils, and
tried to ignore it.
He checked the sky. The huge yellow sun wouldn't set for another two hours, even though a trio of moons
were already dancing above the horizon. That meant he'd have to stay here for at least another hour before
making his final approach to the pyramid.
He looked around. Three Fireflies were standing outside the triangular doorway of a mud building, lost in
conversation. They were wrapped in colorful robes, totally oblivious to the heat that was sapping Lennox's
strength by the minute. He tried to hear what they were saying, but he was too far away, and he didn't dare
move any closer: the last thing he needed was for some overly-friendly Firefly to ask him to join them.
A Firefly infant, no more than two years old, toddled up to him, totally nude, his golden skin reflecting the
sunlight, his tiny vestigial wings flapping furiously to no good purpose. Lennox looked away from the child,
hoping that it would lose interest in him and wander off.
Suddenly it tugged at his robe.
"Bebu?"it asked."Bebu?"
“I'm not yourbebu ,” replied Lennox, grateful that a toddler wouldn't be able to spot his accent as the alien
words rolled uncomfortably off his tongue. “Go home.”
"Bebu?"repeated the infant.
Lennox looked around to make sure no one was watching him, then slowly lifted his arms and dropped them.
It was a sign of aggression in the fierce, carnivorous avians, now almost extinct, that for eons had preyed
 upon the Fireflies. The infant instinctively recoiled at the gesture, then raced into an angular mud house. It
would be, Lennox knew, a typical Firefly dwelling with no windows, crazy angles, and a high ceiling covered
with their incomprehensible religious symbols.
A moment later the infant's mother stuck her head out of the doorway, looking at Lennox as the child pointed
in his direction. After glaring at him for what she considered a sufficient length of time, she disappeared back
inside the house, and Lennox released his grip on the pistol he had hidden beneath his flowing robes.
A bead of sweat trickled down his face, ran along his upper lip, and made its way into his mouth. Then
another, and another, and suddenly he realized that he was thirsty. More than thirsty; he was in serious
danger of dehydration. The thought infuriated him. He had spent so long training his body for this day that he
felt betrayed by it. For reasons he could not comprehend, for all oxygen-breathers needed water and Medina
was a sweltering hellhole, the Fireflies drank—sipped, really—only at sunrise and sunset. Now he would have
to risk exposure by giving his body the water it craved while the sun was still high in the sky.
He slowly shuffled down the street, peering casually into the interior of each building he passed. Every one of
them was occupied, and the thought of having to wait for water made him lust for it even more.
Finally he reached the end of the street and found himself confronted by five more crazily winding
thoroughfares, all narrow, all crowded with angular buildings that made little or no sense. He bore to the right,
not out of any belief that he was more likely to find an empty domicile there, but simply so he could find his
way back, and again began inspecting each structure as he walked by. Fireflies of both sexes and all sizes
stared out at him, neither speaking nor showing any interest.
Maybe it's even hot forthem , he thought as he continued. About halfway down the street he came to a
stable—the least likely place to put it, so of course that's where it was located—and stepped inside, grateful
to be out of the sun despite the alien smells. There were ten stalls—seven on the left, three on the right, all
irregularly-shaped—and he walked slowly down the aisle between them, half-expecting to be stopped with
every step he took.
But nobody was there to stop him, and he found that two of the stalls were empty. Trying to ignore the soft
bleats of the shaggy, incredibly ugly beasts of burden—"They make old Earth's wildebeest look like creatures
of grace and beauty", Fallico had remarked during their first visit to Medina—he entered a stall, sat in a
corner below eye level of anyone passing by, quickly removed his canteen, and greedily poured half of it down
his throat before pausing for breath.
He sat still for a moment, reveling in the relief from sun and thirst, then drained the canteen and walked over
to the stall's water trough to refill it. The trough was empty.
He walked cautiously into the aisle and inspected all the other troughs. Evidently the beasts kept to the
same schedule as their masters; there wasn't a drop of water to be had.
Lennox returned to the empty stall, buried the canteen beneath the bedding, and walked back out the way he
had come. As he was about the leave the stable, he saw a pair of Fireflies approaching him. His first
inclination was to duck back inside, but he quickly decided that was more likely to draw attention than simply
walking down the street, swathed in his robes, acting as if he belonged there. His mind made up, he began
walking directly toward the Fireflies, staring at the ground, circling around them without missing a step. They
passed by silently, without giving him a second glance.
He smelled the odors of alien cooking. Good. The Fireflies were preparing for the evening meal. That meant
the sun had to set pretty soon. The temperature would drop forty degrees or more in the next hour, and he
could finally stop worrying about passing out from heat stroke.
Suddenly he became aware of a damp feeling in his armpits.Damn! Despite all his precautions, his salt pills,
his adrenaline injections, the oxygenation of his blood, his anti-perspirants, his loosely-fitting robes, he had
begun sweating in earnest. Perspiration was pouring off his body. How much longer before the stains were
visible? More to the point, did Fireflies ever sweat? There was so much he didn't know about them; who would
ever have thought that he might get tripped up by something so trivial as perspiration?
He stepped into a recessed doorway while he considered his options, and finally concluded that he didn't
really have any. He hadn't come this far to quit, and he had no way of masking any stains if they should
come through, so he might as well not worry about them. If he held his body awkwardly, if he looked like he
was trying to hide something, he'd draw more attention than if he simply walked boldly and confidently among
the Fireflies. Possibly, if no one was observing him, he could cover his robes with a layer of dust, as if he had
just come out of the desert, but the desert was red and the dust of the city streets was brown; it might call
even more attention to himself.
The best alternative was to return to the stable and wait there until the sun set the rest of the way. He was
just about to do so when a caravan of Fireflies and their beasts of burden passed by, laden with exotic goods.
There was a chance that there was another stable further up the road, that their animals would be quartered
there, but it wasn't worth the risk of exposure if he guessed wrong.
A small insect landed on his cheek, and he instinctively slapped at it. One of the Fireflies, sitting atop its ugly
mount, turned to stare at him.
 What now?, thought Lennox. Didn't any of you ever take a swipe at an insect before? And then he tried to
remember: hadhe ever seen a Firefly react to an insect? He couldn't recall a single instance.
The Firefly was still staring at him, and he felt the need to do something,anything , to assuage what he was
sure were its suspicions. He considered everything from faking a fit to eating the insect, and settled,
uncomfortably, for meticulously readjusting the thick hood of his robe. He dared a quick look in the direction
of the Firefly; evidently it had lost interest in him, and was once again staring dully at the street.
Still, just to be on the safe side, he began walking again, turning into the first side street he came to. It
seemed to be a row of hovels housing weavers. There were great vats of dye, and large hanks of colorful yarn
hanging out to dry. Here were the reds and oranges of the desert tribes, the muted browns and greens of the
city dwellers, even the whites of the warrior caste and the golds of the priests. Firefly females sat at their
looms, their fingers moving swiftly and surely, creating subtle patterns, while dozens of children played in the
street. A small, feline creature emerged from a house and began walking across the street. One of the
children threw a rock at it; it snarled and raced back inside.
As Lennox walked down the street, ignoring the children and ignored in turn by them, he saw an occasional
water gourd hanging near a loom, and tried not to think about it. There was no way he could steal one without
being noticed, not in an area as crowded as this. This led him to wonder if he was still sweating, then to lick
his upper lip to find out. It was moist and salty. Were any sweat stains visible? He didn't know, and had no
way to check on them, but the children continued to pay him no attention, so he assumed his outer robes
were still dry.
He looked at a pair of male children chasing each other up the street. How the hell did they do it? Their
metabolism couldn't be that different, not living as they did on an oxygen world that was capable of supporting
human life. But they didn't sweat, they didn't drool, they didn't pant, they didn't give any indication that the
heat affected them at all. Evolution and adaptation, he told himself, evolution and adaptation. But that didn't
explain the wings. They couldn't fly—given their structures, they hadnever flown—so what were the wings for?
And their fingers—why were they so long? How did useless wings and four-jointed fingers qualify as survival
traits?
I should have done more homework.
But of course, that was precisely what he was doingnow . The Fireflies had no use for Men. They refused to
trade with them. They refused to exchange ambassadors. They refused to have anything to do with Man's
sprawling Republic. They allowed Men one small outpost, right in the middle of that sun-baked southern
desert known as Hell's Oven, but no Man was allowed access to their cities. Indeed, it was a minor miracle
that Lennox had managed to learn their language, since there were no radio or video signals to study and
analyze; he had accomplished it by being incarcerated with a Firefly who had killed four Men, and he had to
fight for his life perhaps fifty times before the Firefly was willing to declare a truce and begin trying to converse
with him. Even now, as he tried to pass for a Firefly and make his way to the pyramid, he was totally ignorant
of the meaning behind the crude squiggles that passed for the Fireflies’ written language.
The spoken language wasn't much better. Simplistic and crude, and grating to the ear—but there was a
certain poetry to it when translated back into Terran. The Fireflies’ name for Medina was Grotamana, which
meant “Touched by God", while the city in which he found himself, Brakannan, was, literally, “Gold at Day's
End". There were some fifty-odd dialects just in this hemisphere, but fortunately the language he had learned
from his cellmate was a bastard tongue that had become thelingua franca for thousands of miles in every
direction.
A trio of flying insects began buzzing around his face. He tried to ignore them, and they were joined by half a
dozen more.
It must be the salt, he decided. Now that he was prepared, he could control his reactions—but none of the
Fireflies were being bothered by insects, and if he drew enough of them, someone would start wondering why.
He continued walking until he was well past the children, then turned a corner, surreptitiously ran his hand
over the front of a filthy building, and covered his face with dirt and grime, hoping that it would mask the odor
of his perspiration from the insects. He gave no thought to how it would affect his appearance; if any Firefly
actually saw his face, clean or dirty, he was a dead man anyway.
The shadows began lengthening as the sun plummeted down behind the distant hills, and Lennox began to
think he actually had a chance of accomplishing his goal. The temperature began dropping precipitously. It
was still hot, and it would remain hot, but he no longer felt like he was in danger of melting. He hadn't lost his
craving for water, but somehow, with the coming of the darkness, he was able to control it.
He considered approaching the pyramid. The streets were emptying, and he would have a clear path,
unhindered by any Fireflies. But the very act of walking there alone would call too much attention to himself,
and he had no idea what was expected of him once he arrived, so he kept to the shadows, hoping to remain
unseen, and planning to fall in behind the first group of Fireflies who emerged from their dwellings to begin the
mile-long trek.
He would have liked to have simply squatted down, his back propped against a wall, and feigned sleep for the
 next hour, but he had no idea if Fireflies slept in such positions—the Firefly he had been incarcerated with
hadn't seemed to sleep at all—and he decided not to risk it. But the sudden silence and lack of movement
convinced him that they also didn't walk around after dark, at least not until they went to the pyramid, so he
simply stood in the shadows, motionless, and hoped that no one would see him.
Five minutes passed, then ten more—and then a lone Firefly came walking down the narrow street. Lennox
stood still, trying to hide the tension in his body, and hoping to strike an attitude that implied that of course
this was where he belonged.
The Firefly stopped when he was about ten feet away and stared intently at Lennox. Lennox looked at the
ground, seemingly oblivious to him.
Finally the Firefly began walking again, and just as Lennox began to relax, he turned back and said
something in a dialect that Lennox had never heard before.
Lennox continued staring at the ground and made no response. The Firefly walked back to him and repeated
the phrase.
“I do not understand you,” muttered Lennox in the one language he had mastered.
“You are not of the Realm or the Legion,” said the Firefly, switching to thelingua franca .
“No, I am not,” replied Lennox, wondering what he was talking about.
“Nor are you of the Seven.”
“That is true,” said Lennox.
“There is something different about you,” said the Firefly. “You mangle the language and you do not meet my
gaze.”
“I was born unable to speak clearly,” answered Lennox, “and I do not meet your gaze because I am ashamed
of my shortcoming.”
It seemed like a reasonable answer, but something about it was terribly wrong, because without another word
the Firefly launched himself at Lennox, his hands reaching out to clutch at the human's throat.
Lennox was caught completely off-guard by the suddenness of the attack, and an instant later was struggling
for his life as the Firefly's hands tightened around his neck. He delivered a swift knee to the groin, which
would have disabled any human opponent, but had no effect whatsoever on the Firefly. A thumb to the armpit
elicited a groan, but did not make the Firefly relinquish his hold. Lennox felt himself becoming dizzy as he
gasped futilely for air. Spots began appearing before his eyes, and finally he decided the only chance he had
of surviving was to match surprise with surprise. He swiftly moved a hand to his face and pulled at the scarf
that covered it until it was fully exposed.
The Firefly's eyes widened."You are a Man!"
Lennox used that instant to twist free. He didn't dare give his opponent time to think or call for help, and he
instantly delivered a crippling kick to the Firefly's left knee. The Firefly grunted and fell to the ground and
Lennox, his scarf in his hands, swiftly wrapped it around the Firefly's neck and began tightening it.
The Firefly struggled to free himself, furiously at first, then with ever weaker efforts, until he finally lay still.
Lennox made sure he was alive, then quickly dragged him to the darkest section of the street, where he
bound and gagged him with his own scarves.
As quick and silent as the battle had been, Lennox still could not believe that Fireflies weren't pouring into the
street to determine the cause of the commotion, and decided that, early or not, he would be safer
approaching the pyramid than remaining where he was. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he
began walking to the north, his eyes and ears alert to every motion and sound.
When he had left the city and covered half the distance, he heard the draft animals of a caravan off to his
right. He hid behind a rocky outcrop and watched as they came into view. There were six Fireflies mounted
atop their beasts, and they led a train of thirty more animals, all carrying heavy burdens, each tied
halter-to-tail to the beast ahead of it. With the sun down, four of the Fireflies had their hands and heads
exposed, and he stared in fascination. They may have been dull and lackluster by day, but because of some
element in their skins they literally glowed by night.
He briefly considered cutting the last animal loose with his knife, slicing its cargo loose, and mounting it, but
they were noisy, temperamental animals, and he didn't want to risk exposure if the creature should start its
characteristic bleating.
Still, the caravan offered him some protection once they reached the blazing torches that surrounded the
pyramid, and the tracks they made would cover his own footprints, so he waited until the first twenty animals
had walked by and then quickly walked out from behind his outcropping and began walking alongside the
twenty-first beast. Its head shot up and its eyes widened when it became aware of him, but it remained silent
and continued walking. Lennox kept as close to it as he could, in case any of the six riders should chance to
look back, but their attention was centered on the glowing torches up ahead.
The caravan came to a halt within a quarter mile of the pyramid, and Lennox slipped into the darkness just
before one of the Fireflies walked down the row of animals to make sure none had broken loose. The Fireflies
then exchanged low whispers and began walking down a path that was marked by torches.
 Lennox watched as they got to within thirty feet of the base of the pyramid, genuflected, made a complicated
gesture with their hands, and began slowly walking around it in a counterclockwise direction.
He looked about for some sign of a priest or leader, but the only Fireflies he could see were the six members
of the caravan. It didn't make any sense. This was their holiest of holy places: Therehad to be more going on
than a handful of Fireflies walking in a large circle.
And suddenly he became aware that therewas more going on. The Fireflies from the village were approaching
in force, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of them. They were marching toward the pyramid in single
file, and while they were still half a mile away, he quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to simply become
a part of their procession as he had joined the caravan, for a number of them also bore torches, and if they
kept to the same path as the caravan, they would not pass within sixty feet of him. He'd never be able to
span the gap without being spotted.
He was faced with two options: he could wait until the last of them had passed and fall into step behind them,
or he could approach the pyramid now, before they arrived. Since he had no guarantee that the last few
Fireflies wouldn't be carrying torches, he decided upon the second alternative.
He walked briskly to the path the Fireflies all seemed to follow instinctively, then turned toward the pyramid
and continued at a slower pace. When he reached the spot where the caravan members had genuflected, he
did so too, and then tried as best he could to duplicate the gesture they had made with their hands. This
done, he began circling the pyramid as he had seen the Fireflies do, shortening his stride to make sure he
would not catch up with them.
As he continued circling to his left, passing out of sight of the horde from the village, he came to a stop and
breathed a sigh of relief.He'd made it! All he had to do now was wait until the villagers started walking around
the pyramid: he would pretend to stumble, allow a few of them to pass him, and then fall into step with them
so that he would be able to duplicate whatever they did. Nothing to it. The worst was over.
He was still congratulating himself on his accomplishment when a golden-robed Firefly came out of the
darkness, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and ripped the scarf away from his face.
“We have been expecting you, Xavier William Lennox,” said the Firefly, and even though the high-pitched
voice came from an alien throat, Lennox found the tones ominous.
Three more Fireflies suddenly appeared, threatening him with metal-tipped spears.
Lennox could think of no answer that would in any way mitigate his situation, so he simply stood still and
made no reply.
“You have been repeatedly warned to stay away from this place,” continued the Firefly. “You have been told
that such an invasion of our privacy would not be permitted. And yet you have come. Why?”
“I was curious.”
The Firefly emitted its equivalent of a contemptuous snort. It was an ominous sound.
2.
Lennox's hands were bound behind his back, and he was marched toward the immense pyramid he had
come so far to see. It was some eighty feet tall, and its smooth golden sides were totally devoid of any
markings or carvings. It amazed him that a race as primitive as the Fireflies could have constructed it. He
toyed with the possibility that some other starfaring race had created and then abandoned it, and that over
the eons its origin had been forgotten as it became the holiest of the Fireflies’ many religious monuments.
“This is what you came for, is it not, Xavier William Lennox?” asked the golden-robed Firefly, gesturing toward
the pyramid.
“I came to study the entire ceremony,” replied Lennox truthfully.
“Why?”
“I was told that it is both beautiful and awesome.”
“We have no desire to seeyour religious ceremonies,” said the Firefly.
“You should attend one,” said Lennox. “You might find it interesting.”
“Your god allows any being of any race to attend?”
“Most of my people would argue that he is your god, too.”
The Firefly uttered an alien chuckle. “They are welcome to think so.”
“I would be happy to exchange religious views with you,” offered Lennox.
“I'm sure you would,” said the Firefly.
They came to a stop at the base of the pyramid.
“What do you plan to do with me?” asked Lennox, trying to hide his nervousness.
“You knew the consequences of your actions before you came here,” replied the Firefly.
“Perhaps you had better consider the consequences ofyour actions.” said Lennox, trying to imbue his voice
with a tone of authority. “You cannot kill a Man without retaliation.”
“You are in no position to make threats.”
“I'm not here to harm anyone,” replied Lennox. “I came alone and unarmed. Why not simply let me observe
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