Though Braouk was not allowed to in any way prepare or coach them for the forthcoming ordeal, it was clear that his old friend desperately wished to do so. If anything, the Tuuqalian who had been their companion during their long journeying seemed more nervous than the human, his canine companion, and the respective Niyyuu and Iollth who were eventually selected to undergo the test.
Each being the sole representative of his kind, Walker and George were spared the discussions among Niyyuu and Iollth that followed the announcement of the Tuuqalian requirement. Of course, Braouk explained, it was not necessary for a representative of either species to participate. But if Sobj-oes and her small but vital contingent of astronomical specialists were to be allowed to consult with their Tuuqalian counterparts, at least one Niyyuu also had to satisfy the unbending local tradition. Learning that one of the tall, multi-tailed beings who had defeated them at Hyff was going to make the attempt, the Iollth felt it imperative that one of their own kind participate and meet the Tuuqalian criteria as well.
Discussion among both groups led to debate, and debate to open argument. There being only one of each of them, human and canine had no choice in the matter of who was to stand for their species. That was not the case among Iollth and Niyyuu. Internal conflict threatened to delay the business further, until an exasperated Walker pointed out to both groups that they were not exactly displaying the kind of sensitivity the Tuuqalians were looking for, and that if word of the ongoing dissention reached their erstwhile hosts, the original invitation itself might be withdrawn.
Abashed by an alien whose species had not even mastered the rudiments of interstellar travel, Niyyuu and Iollth settled down to the selection of one individual to represent each of their kind. Neither recognized that Walker’s admonition to each had been based on the possible failure of the other. It was only one in a litany of techniques he had borrowed for use from his days as a trader of commodities. Tell one group that their competitors were acting in an acceptable manner while the other was not, and the first group was likely to comply with the teller’s needs. Then reverse and apply to the other, and so gain the cooperation of both.
So it was that De-sil-jimd of the communications caste was chosen to join the group that would descend to the surface with Braouk as their guide and sponsor, while Sobj-oes’s assistant Habr-wec was elected to represent the Niyyuu. Ignorant of what they were about to face, Walker thought them both good choices. It would be good to have a communications specialist among the group, as well as a representative of the astronomical team in the event the occasion arose to ask a pertinent question or obtain potentially useful information.
And while Iollth and Niyyuu had argued among themselves, and Gerlla-hyn had been forced to inform the outraged Niyyuuan media contingent that none of them would be permitted to record the confrontation, Walker strived mightily to convince Sque to participate.
“No, absolutely not.” From within the mist cloud of her perpetually damp resting place, the equivalent of a human couch, the K’eremu adamantly refused to having anything to do with the upcoming challenge. Metallic gray eyes regarded the crouching Walker mordantly. “Am I wrong in assuming that despite my continued company and occasional tutelage you have progressed insufficiently far to recognize a negative when it is presented to you?”
Gritting his teeth, Walker held his temper and persisted. “Sque, we don’t know what we’re facing here. This is as important to you as it is to the rest of us. You know what’ll happen if we don’t gain the respect and approval of Braouk’s people. No help in locating a possible line on Earth. No help in finding a vector for K’erem.”
One limb adjusted a strand comprised of bits of colored glass that ran from the smooth crown of the K’eremu’s head down her right side. It was beaded with moisture and radiant with reflected light.
“It has all the intimations of a cheap carnival, this ‘requirement.’ I refuse to debase myself to gain the sanction of a lot of bloated saga-spouting carnivores.” Half her ten slender tentacles promptly entwined themselves in a complex knot no doubt fraught with ambiguous significance.
“Technologically advanced bloated saga-spouting carnivores,” Walker reminded her coolly. “Astronomically competent bloated saga-spouting carnivores.” He straightened, looking down at her. “The bloated saga-spouting carnivores whose help we need if any of the rest of us are going to have a prayer of getting home.”
The K’eremu was unmoved. “You may perform for them however you wish and obtain the required assistance.”
Walker rolled his eyes and tried to contain his exasperation. “You know that’s not going to work. They want to pass on every species, and they already know there’s a K’eremu on board because Braouk told them about you.”
An unoccupied tentacle splashed water on argent eyes. “Always noise-making, that one.” Bubbles formed at the end of her speaking tube, eventually to break free and wander off into the enclosed atmosphere of the room; visual punctuation. Another tentacle swung to the right and picked up a small, tightly sealed square container. An integrated readout on its exterior divulged the contents. It was where Sque kept her stock of si’dana drugs—or rather, stimulants, as she preferred to refer to them.
“It would appear that I have on hand a sufficiency of synthesized chemicals to enable me to tolerate such a degrading ordeal. Even in a fog of my own making I would expect no difficulty in satisfying the stipulations of our garrulous friend Braouk’s demanding relations.” Her entire body expanded and relaxed, like a momentarily inflated balloon. “I suppose I will have to do this.”
Walker smiled. “Braouk will be delighted. He’s anxious to show us his world. All of us.”
“The lumbering sputterer of interminable singsong may not find my reluctant company quite so vitalizing. In any event, I am glad that one of us, at least, has been returned to their home.” She climbed, or rather slithered, out of the misting pool. “His kind had better be able to render unto us the kind of scientific assistance we need, or I am certain I will regret this decision for the rest of my natural days.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Walker snapped as he turned to leave. “You don’t even know what the Tuuqalian requirement for entry consists of. It might require us to do nothing more than swear some kind of mild oath not to harm local interests, or to fill out in person a form or two.” Feeling a tentacle questing along the back of his leg, he kicked it gently away. Back home, a rubbery, ropy contact like that might have made him jump a foot straight up. Over the past couple of years, he had grown used to and relaxed with touches that were even more alien.
“And stand off—I’m not Braouk, and I’m not going to carry you.”
Slithering out of the cabin and into the first corridor on all ten tentacles, Sque blew a large bubble that, when it popped, disseminated a particularly malodorous aroma. Linguistic sophistication notwithstanding, the K’eremu were perfectly capable of venturing an opinion in a nonverbal manner.
The Tuuqalian shuttle that carried the representatives of the five visiting species—human, canine, K’eremu, Iollth, and Niyyuu—to the surface was itself larger than some interstellar craft the travelers had seen. A lot of the interior seemed to consist of empty space. No doubt when it was transporting the much bigger Tuuqalians, it was packed full.
Similarly, the interesting high-speed, multi-wheeled ground transport vehicle that transported them from the landing site into the city of Karoceen was plainly not designed for visitors. Everyone except the solicitous Braouk had to be helped to reach the vehicle’s high entrance. Everyone, that is, except Sque. Using her suckerless tentacles, the most reluctant among the visitors was able to find sufficient purchase on the exterior of the transport to climb aboard by herself. This achievement had unintended unfortunate consequences, as her four companions were subsequently forced to listen to a patronizing discourse on the superiority of K’eremu physical as well as mental skills all the way into the metropolis.
Karoceen was of a size befit
ting the dimensions of its inhabitants. Far larger than any urban complex Walker and George had seen on Hyff or Niyu, it reminded them of the great metropolitan concentrations on Seremathenn itself. With one notable exception: few of the buildings were more than five or six stories (albeit they were Tuuqalian stories, he reminded himself) high. The Tuuqalia, Braouk explained in response to his question, were not fond of heights. So while Karoceen and its sister cities were enormous in extent, their skylines failed to impress.
Structures tended to have rounded corners, in keeping with Tuuqalian aesthetics, and large windows. Many appeared to be composed entirely of reinforced polysilicates or similar transparent materials. When the visitors exited the transport vehicle and were ushered into one notably tall building of five stories, Walker felt dwarfed by their native escorts. Being around one Tuuqalian, Braouk, had often been intimidating enough. Finding oneself on their world, surrounded by dozens of the multi-limbed, sawtoothed giants, would be enough to make anyone paranoid. He found himself staying close to the tall young Niyyuuan astronomer Habr-wec. The normally bold George was also intimidated to the point where he threatened to walk under Walker’s feet and trip them both.
Only Sque, who had not wanted to come at all, appeared unimpressed, traveling in the manner to which she had become accustomed atop one of Braouk’s powerful upper limbs, her own tentacles providing her with a grip Walker could only envy. She was spared the anxiety that afflicted him and the others by her unshakable innate sense of superiority, the knowledge that while all space-traversing species were sentient, the K’eremu were just a little more sentient than anyone else.
Senescent, more likely, Walker grumbled to himself even as he envied her feeling of invincible self-confidence.
Not knowing what to expect, he was taken aback when Braouk and their escort of four massive armed Tuuqalians finally halted before a pair of towering doors.
“We are here,” their friend informed them, before adding cryptically, “With luck, this will take a long time.”
Walker did not have the opportunity to ask what Braouk meant by that before the doors folded into opposing walls and they were conducted inside.
The chamber was immense, a gilded hall with a floor that sloped upward instead of down as would have been the case in a comparable human facility. There were no chairs. Like the Iollth, the Tuuqalians neither used nor needed such furnishings. Climbing the slight slope that appeared to be paved with a single continuous strip of something like varnished lapis lazuli, they approached a waiting semicircle of Tuuqalians. The distance between doorway and dais being equally Tuuqalian-sized, Walker felt as if he was hiking across the floor of a vast indoor sports arena instead of simply from one side of a meeting room to the other. Silence save for the muted slap-slap of their escorts’ lower limbs against the floor and a steady cool breeze whose source he could not discern made the distance to be traversed seem all the greater.
Braouk’s people had no more use for clothing than they did for chairs, though the dozen or so figures did flaunt various pendants and other identifying devices that encircled their uppermost limbs like massive bracelets. Twenty-four bulbous, unblinking eyes regarded the approaching visitors, bobbing and weaving at the ends of muscular, flexible eyestalks. The sight was as hypnotic as it was unnerving.
The last time Walker had been so intimidated by rank size was when he had been forced to confront the Ohio State offensive line his senior year at his university. There was no basis for actual physical comparison, of course. The smallest of the aliens squatting before him on its four lower tentacles massed as much as the entire State line. The number of writhing, gesturing tentacles arrayed in front of him reminded him of a horde of pythons leisurely contemplating potential prey.
One of the unabashedly curious officials bade the arrivals and their escort halt. Silence ensued while additional stares were exchanged. Standing in a hall that seemed large enough to manufacture its own weather, surrounded by alien giants, some of whom were even bigger than his friend Braouk, Walker waited for whatever might come. There was no backing out now, he realized. No changing one’s mind and asking to be returned to the safety of the Jhevn-bha. And he didn’t think offering to prepare dinner for the dozen officials squatting before him would allow him and his friends to avoid having to satisfy the still mysterious, unstated “requirement.” Right now, the only thing available to cut with a knife was the tension.
It was broken by the Tuuqalian squatting at the far left end of the line. Walker’s implant had no trouble translating the straightforward local singsong.
“Let the nearer biped begin first!”
With the representatives of the Niyyuu and Iollth standing to his right, it struck Walker that the speaker was referring to him. Dozens of eyestalks immediately coiled in his direction. He could have done without the attention.
Turning to Braouk’s familiar, reassuring shape, he whispered, “What are we supposed to do? What am I expected to do? How do we go about satisfying this demand of your people to prove that we’re sufficiently civilized and sensitive enough to be allowed to visit your world?”
Each nearly the size of his head, both eyes curved close to him. It was a measure of how far he had come and how much he had changed that their proximity did not unsettle him in the least.
“You must do, the same as I, friend Marcus.”
Seeking clarification, he’d hit upon only bafflement. Aware that he was now the focus of the attention of everyone in the vast hall, from Tuuqalian escorts and officials to his own companions, he struggled for understanding.
“Do the same? The same what?” He spread both hands. “You know as well as anyone what I can do, Braouk. I can broker trades, and I can cook.”
His massive friend was unrelenting. “You must do one more thing, Marcus. You must do as I.” A pair of tentacles swept down the length of the assembled. “Show them the level of your civilization. Show them your sensitive nature. Recite to them, as best you can, a saga. Intonation is important, inspiration is foremost, format is forgiving.”
Near Walker’s feet and oblivious to the significance of the moment, George was snickering. “Go ahead, Marc. Sing them a saga of humankind. You could use your own original kindly, polite, human profession as a springboard.”
“You’re not helping,” Walker hissed at his canine companion. Furiously, he tried to think of a subject that would satisfy the demands of those assembled to pass judgment not merely on him, but on his entire species. If he failed, it might not mean a crisis: one or more of his companions might proceed to satisfy the Tuuqalian requirement. But it would not be a good way to begin. Besides, now that he was here, he very much wanted to see something of Braouk’s homeworld. There was also a matter of pride involved. When faced with a challenge, he had never let his firm down. Could he do no less for his entire species? Fortunately, he didn’t have to sing—only to recite. Choosing his words carefully, modifying them to fit the traditional Tuuqalian saga-pattern, he cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began.
“Big blue blot, floating out in space, so far. Very far away, too far for me, to reach. Blue with water, green with growing plants, white clouds. One special city, by a big lake, my home. It miss it, the good and bad, so much. My heart hurts, every time I think, of it. It’s your help, that we really need, right now. To find Earth, and my friend Sque’s, homeworlds.”
He rambled on, sometimes without effort, at other times having to pause as long as he dared to think furiously (did speed count?). The longer he scribed the story, the easier the words came. Having lived alongside Braouk for so long made settling into the proper speech pattern simpler than he would have believed possible.
Amazing what one could pick up over the years, depending on the company one kept, he thought even as he continued to churn out words and phrases of parallel pacing. The longer he spun narrative without interruption or objection, the more confident he felt that he was at least being listened to, and the wider the field of acceptable sub
ject matter that occurred to him. Then, with unexpected abruptness, he hit a mental wall. With no more reminiscences to share, no further hopes to declaim, and growing slightly hoarse besides, he just stopped. If the Tuuqalians who had been watching and listening to him had been expecting or waiting for a big finish, it was denied to them. The stress of fulfilling the demand had exhausted him physically as well as mentally.
A wet nose nudged his leg. George looked up at him with as solemn an expression as he had ever seen on the dog’s face. “That,” his friend informed him somberly, “was as eloquent a collection of words as I’ve ever heard dribble from your protruding lips, man.”
“Thanks, George.” Both the Niyyuuan and Iollth representatives also crowded around him to offer muted congratulations, while Braouk threatened to smother his much smaller friend with a complimentary lashing of tentacles. As usual, Sque vouchsafed offering anything like a direct compliment. But neither did she hiss her usual ration of denigration. In fact, when he happened to glance in her direction, the size and shape of the bubbles she was casually burbling from her flexible breathing tube suggested a certain modicum of nonverbal approval.
None of which mattered, of course. Ignoring the continuing congratulations of his friends, he shifted his attention to the line of massive, convened adjudicators. They, too, had been conversing quietly among themselves ever since he had finished. Now the Tuuqalian on the right end of the line, farthest from the one who had instructed Walker to begin, fluttered its single nostril as beartrap-like jaws parted.
“Is good enough, to allow for welcoming, your kind.”
Walker’s spirits rose as if he had just pulled off a three-way trade involving dollars, euros, and a shipload of raw mahogany. Since at present his kind referred only to him, he assumed he was in.
He was given no time to savor his accomplishment. It was the turn of the young Niyyuuan astronomer to saga-spin on behalf of his people. Having had time to prepare, thanks to Walker’s inspired bit of homesick spieling, Habr-wec declaimed in proper Tuuqalian the configuration of stars and planets, of his hopes for learning more about them, of how this journey was the fulfillment of a dream held by every fellow astronomer relegated to observing the heavens only from a planetary surface, and of his hopes that his counterparts on this beautiful world would help him and his friends to realize their goal of returning to their homes the victims of unwarranted abduction presently stranded in their midst. As he spoke, his neck frill flared fully erect, and like a quartet of furry metronomes, his tails kept time to his speaking. Nothing could be done about his Niyyuuan voice, however, the sandpapery nature of which grated even on the recessed hearing organs of the tolerant and attentive row of Tuuqalians.
The Candle of Distant Earth Page 15