“Strange behavior for a race that settles its diplomatic problems by invading another species’ territory.”
“I agree.” Caine continued to inspect the creature. “Unusual eye structure: no pupils.”
Trevor leaned over to look for himself. “No pupils?”
“None that I can see. But then again, the whole eye is different.”
Trevor studied the area surrounding the organ. “I can’t see any ducts or moisture. In fact, I don’t think there’s much capacity for ocular movement.”
“Odd.” Caine paused. “What about those wrinkled ridges around the eyes? Maybe some kind of folded cartilaginous sleeve?”
“Doesn’t look like it to me. Why?”
Caine shrugged. “Could be the sign of an extrusive mechanism.”
“Eyestalks, huh? I don’t think so. Why are you checking the eyes so closely, anyway?”
“Sensory ability tends to be a first cousin to communication. If we get an idea of how the Arat Kur perceive their environment, we might learn a little about how they—now this is interesting.”
“What?”
As Caine drifted closer to the Arat Kur, Trevor pushed farther back, retightening his grip on the gun. One fast slash of its front claws might filet Caine. But he seemed oblivious to the threat, staring closely into the alien’s eyes. “What are you doing, trying to hypnotize it?”
Caine’s voice suggested that he hadn’t even heard the gibe. “This isn’t really an eye at all. It’s the end of a thick fiber-optic bundle. It’s a—a kind of lens. No soft tissue whatsoever.”
“So where is the retina, or its analog?”
“Probably back in the carapace. Which makes sense, when you think about it.”
“Why?”
“Well, they appear to be evolved from some kind of burrowers, right? So, lots of dirt and debris flying around, airborne. Trapped in tight, subterranean spaces where it can’t disperse. The Arat Kur eye, evolving in that environment, develops a fairly insensate outer surface: a thick lens. Multiple lenses, if I’m seeing things correctly.”
“Why multiple? Redundancy in case of obstruction or injury?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it gives the Arat Kur more visual options.”
“How?”
“The ability to change depth of focus, for instance. Our eye changes focus by using muscular force to reshape the lens. The Arat Kur eye doesn’t seem to have any muscles and the outermost lens certainly doesn’t look very flexible. So instead, they might select different lenses for different focal requirements.”
Trevor carried the idea one step further. “That could even give them a means of compensating for their lack of eye mobility. Perhaps the right combination of lenses gives them a fish-eye lens effect, a wide-angle view. But that wouldn’t give them very good vision. Compound eyes aren’t terribly efficient.”
Caine kept starting at the Arat Kur. “First of all, I’m not sure this is a real compound eye. Just because there are lots of lenses doesn’t mean there’s a retina for each one. And when it comes to efficiency—well, I suppose that depends upon what the eye is supposed to achieve. As burrowers, the Arat Kur probably don’t spend a lot of time above ground. So, how essential is three-hundred-sixty-degree vision? How much do they need highly mobile eyes?”
Trevor saw the point, finished it. “Instead, they’d need eyes that weren’t particularly sensitive to debris. And they’d also tend towards developing superior sensitivity to lower wavelength light in order to increase their ability to see in the dark.”
“Most specifically, to see in the infrared,” agreed Caine. “That way, in a completely lightless burrow, they can still locate other Arat Kur by their body heat.”
“Okay, but how does knowing all that help us to communicate with it?”
Caine was floating around the side of the alien. “It helps us by suggesting that vision cannot be the primary sense for the Arat Kur.”
“Huh?”
“Well, as you said, long-distance vision probably isn’t so good; that’s pretty much a constant with any multiple-lens ocular structure. That means that they would tend to be even less dependent upon visual warning, so it will be less important to their evolution. And if they are truly shortsighted, then they’re going to have to find another medium for long-distance communication.”
Trevor thought. “Which means that this critter should have a really good set of ears. But I’m not seeing any.”
“I think I’ve just found them.” Caine sounded like he was smiling. “Come take a look.”
Trevor moved forward slowly, keeping the aimpoint on the alien’s belly. He stopped, looked where Caine was pointing: at the Arat Kur’s back. Again, Trevor saw the big, raised pores sprouting rigid, short black hairs, although some of the biggest pores showed no hair at all. He looked for an orifice hidden amongst them, or a tympanum. Nothing. “I give up; where are its ears?”
“You’re looking at them.”
“Ugly back hairs?”
“I’m betting that those aren’t hairs. Those are retractable antennae. Almost fully retracted now, I’ll bet.”
Trevor looked again. “That’s an awful lot of antennae.”
“No more than you’d expect for a creature so completely dependent upon sound. They probably go straight down into acoustic chambers of some sort, transmitting the vibrations they detect to an audial nerve.”
“Then why are the hairs—antenna—retracted now? Are we being purposely ignored?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a reflex that reduces stimuli.”
“So it is ignoring us.”
“No, more like it just can’t handle what it experienced and has withdrawn its consciousness from the outside world.”
“Like catatonia?”
“Maybe. Or perhaps it’s a natural trauma response for the species.”
Marvelous. Their prisoner now had to be recategorized as a mental patient. Trevor saw where that could lead. “Caine, if the alien is psychologically withdrawn, then we have to bring it back to reality.”
“I agree.”
“Then I repeat: nothing motivates as effectively as fear. Let’s not waste any time.”
“We still don’t know how he’ll react. We might force him deeper into withdrawal.”
Trevor looked at Caine from the corner of his eye. “Exactly how much more withdrawn do you expect he can get?” Trevor saw his retort hit home. Caine frowned, looked at the alien. Time to follow up, but gently; gently! “Caine, when we came back from the wreck, I was conscious enough to watch you try every form of communication that we know of to reach the Arat Kur: voice, written language, images, sound patterns, mathematics. But there’s been no response and we’re running out of time. We’ve studied the alien and have discovered some useful facts, but now we have to try other methods.”
After about five seconds, Caine asked quietly, “What do you propose?”
“We start with something passive, something that will work by eroding the exosapient’s will and self-composure. White noise, biased toward the ultrasonic range. We can rig the intercom to produce it. We may have to play with the sound characteristics a bit, since we don’t know what audial stimuli will create discomfort.”
Caine looked disgusted, but nodded. He did not look at Trevor as he launched himself toward the door. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Trevor started with a decibel level that would have been subaudible to a human subject, using sound waves in the 18,000–30,000 cycles range. It might have made the average person a bit edgy, but no more.