The Candle of Distant Earth

by Alan Dean Foster

  “In the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary, it has been decided that no better way exists to resolve this apparent dilemma than to rely on the word of that paragon of sentient evolution, another K’eremu.” Other limbs gestured in Sque’s direction. “We accept your reflection. Your primitive acquaintances are free to return to their waiting craft.”

  Walker wanted to jump up and shout, to fling his clenched fist into the enclosed, perpetually damp air of the port. He restrained himself lest the reaction be thought overtly primal. Certainly it was impossible to envision a K’eremu reacting the same way in a similar situation. He settled instead for giving George a last firm pat on the head, straightening, and letting Braouk wrap the tip of one massive tentacle around his five human digits.

  It was only by chance that he happened to notice the weapon gripped firmly in the suckers of Pret-Klob’s right arm flap.

  “I and the other members of my association have not traveled this long and this far to be denied that which we seek. The inventory is coming with me.”

  The oddly circular hand weapon, Walker noted without moving a muscle, was aimed at the lone male among the three watchful K’eremu. They did not appear overly concerned by the Vilenjji’s unexpected show of force. But then, a K’eremu never did. Feeling Braouk’s mass shift subtly behind him, he slowly raised a forestalling hand. His arm could not stop the Tuuqalian if he wanted to make a rush at the Vilenjji. A tank would be necessary. But the gesture was enough. Respecting Walker’s insight, Braouk held his ground.

  “Interesting aggressive device,” Rehj commented thoughtfully, eying the weapon. “By way of contrast, our far more sophisticated equivalents are notably less injurious.”

  None of the three K’eremu reached for a control, or made an unusual gesture, or took out a concealed device. None spoke a command or called for help. One moment, a large and very determined Vilenjji was standing nearby, his weapon trained on the trio. The next, Pret-Klob went stiff as purple pine, his body unmoving as a flash-frozen crab spat out by the quick-freezer of a Bering Sea trawler. Pulsing softly, a pale aura now enveloped his body, or perhaps emanated from it. Walker couldn’t tell.

  There are devices active here that will restrain, he remember Sque warning him earlier. For once, their K’eremu companion had resorted to understatement.

  “There is one other matter that should be attended to.” As if nothing untoward had happened, Alet advanced a few body lengths in Walker’s direction. “Now that you know the location of K’erem, if we allow you to depart, what guarantee do we have that we will not be troubled by your annoying presence again?”

  “We promise.” Walker responded reflexively, just as he would have if he been in the midst of an important business meeting with any client. “We won’t come back. Honestly. Not that your world doesn’t have its undeniable charms,” he added hastily, the trader in him contriving the necessary tact, “but for us K’erem has always been just a way station, not a destination.”

  “Just one more hydrant on the highway of life.” Fortunately, the K’eremu’s translators could not quite manage a seamless interpretation of the dog’s comment.

  “It be same, with me and mine, forever,” Braouk hastened to assure the watchful trio.

  “What better way to be rid of them,” Sque added conclusively, “than to send them on their way back to the homeworlds they seek?”

  A voice issued from the partially immobilized Pret-Klob. “Only the association knows the location of the human and canine world. The Niyyuu do not know it, nor do the Iollth, or the Hyfft, or the Tuuqalia. It is so isolated and distant that none are aware of its location but us. It will not be divulged; not even for a price.” While the Vilenjji could move neither head nor eyes, Walker became convinced his former captor was staring directly at him, and him alone. “There is principle involved.”

  Though Pret-Klob could not have known it, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. If only he had not said “only.” Because in doing so, he had unwittingly laid down a challenge to the K’eremu.

  This time it was Mehz who stepped forward to confront the visitors—still maintaining a suitable distance, of course. “Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu speaks sensibly. In the interests of ridding K’erem’s vicinity of you as quickly and expeditiously as possible, it will be recommended that our astronomical facilities be encouraged to cooperate with your own meager equivalents.” Silvery eyes glanced indifferently in the direction of the immobilized Vilenjji. “So many of the lesser species suffer from an appalling conviction of their own supremacy.”

  George could not restrain himself. “A failing that fortunately escapes the K’eremu.”

  “Yes,” agreed Mehz without a hint of irony. “I suspect you will all be on your way sooner than you think.”

  Walker gestured at the powerless, silently fuming Pret-Klob. “What about him?”

  Alet spoke up. “The unpleasant creature will be returned to its own orbiting vessel. Hopefully suitably chastened. Neither he nor any other from his craft will be permitted to return to the surface of K’erem. They have violated our generous hospitality.”

  Walker wanted to say, “What hospitality?” He did not, and this time George held his peace. Possibly because Braouk had, as he had once done with Sque on his own world, thoughtfully wrapped the tapered end of a very large and very strong tentacle around the dog’s mouth.

  Sque’s condescending brethren were as good as their supercilious word. Working in conjunction with, if not alongside, Sobj-oes and her team of Niyyuuan, Iollth, and Tuuqalian professionals, the K’eremu did indeed locate Earth.

  Several of them.

  As proof of intelligence could not be detected over such vast distances, the grudgingly helpful K’eremu had been reduced to searching for systems that matched Walker’s layman’s description. Only their astounding scientific resources and expertise allowed them to winnow down worlds abounding from thousands of potential stellar candidates, to hundreds, to—finally—four. By terrestrial standards the four lay unreachable distances apart. In the advanced ships of the Niyyuu, Iollth, and Tuuqalians, the prospective journey was not an unfeasible one.

  As they made ready to depart from the vicinity of K’erem’s sun, a last surprise awaited the travelers. It arrived in the form of a communication that materialized within Walker and George’s living quarters, and took the form of the avatar of a certain very familiar K’eremu.

  “A last farewell, Sque?” Walker faced the projection while George dozed on his pillow-bed nearby. “I know we didn’t have much time for leave-taking below.” He did not add that the K’eremu had neglected to see them off. While disappointed, he had not been surprised. If nothing else, her nonappearance was characteristically K’eremu. Now, it appeared, she might have had second thoughts, and had decided to project a formal goodbye before the orbiting ships headed outsystem.

  “As usual, your perception is inaccurate.” The three-dimensional image hovered before him. “This communication represents nothing of the kind. I continue to accompany you, though of course I cannot be expected to tolerate your physical proximity any more than is minimally necessary.”

  That brought George’s head up off his bed. “The squid’s coming with us?”

  “Not with you specifically,” the projection replied, choosing to ignore the dog’s impertinence. “It has been decided that there is useful data to be acquired from accompanying you on your return. Just as the ungainly Tuuqalian Braouk has continued to accompany you to acquire material for his pitiable saga, so I and others of my kind have determined to do so in the everlasting pursuit of knowledge.” She abruptly vanished, to be replaced by a new image: of one of the sleek, breathtakingly beautiful ships of her kind. The substitution was brief, and she quickly returned.

  “There are twenty of us on board,” she informed Walker and George, in reference to the newly arrived craft whose image they had just viewed. “The minimum necessary to supervise the operation of a long-range vessel. Also near t
he maximum number of K’eremu who can stand to be in one another’s company.”

  “We’re glad to have you along,” Walker told her feelingly. “I was afraid I wasn’t going to get the chance to say a real goodbye.”

  “Uneconomical frivolities,” she replied. “Sometimes to be favored, nonetheless. While we cannot of course greet one another in person while we are in transit between star systems, there will doubtless be opportunities to do so during those times when we are not.”

  “Wonderful,” George groused from the vicinity of his pillow. “I do so miss the comforting caress of wet, slimy tentacles.”

  As always, Sque did not react to the sarcasm inherent in the dog’s response, because to her it was only natural to take his words at face value.

  The excitement Walker and George felt as the ships returned to normal space turned to disappointment when it became clear that the system they had entered was not home to Earth. The outer portion was home to the essential number of gas giants, their existence necessary so that their gravity might sweep up planetary dust and debris and allow the formation of habitable inner worlds. The third of these looked very much like Earth, even to the swathes of fleecy white clouds that streaked its very breathable oxynitro atmosphere. There were water oceans, and dry continents, and evidence of life. But it was not Earth. A quick scan revealed that it harbored no intelligence. At least, none that had developed so much as rudimentary electronic communications.

  It was an empty, uninhabited paradise. News of its existence would cause a sensation on Earth, where any working astronomer would part with years of his or her life for the chance to be the herald of such a discovery. Instead, it was left to Walker and George to admire it, have Sobj-oes and her colleagues methodically note its coordinates, and watch via the communications system in their quarters as it receded behind them.

  “Could have had a world to ourselves,” George commented as the blue and white image shrank in the view space that occupied the center of the room. “No one to tell you where to pee, no one to yell at you to stop barking.”

  “No one to talk to,” Walker added. “I’m sure we’ll have better luck at the next star.”

  How far had he come, he reflected. How much had he changed, that he could make a statement like that sound as casual and natural as if he was discussing the next stop on the commuter train that served the Big Windy’s suburbs.

  But they did not have better luck. While the second system’s sun was a near twin of Sol, and the fourth world out was indeed habitable, it was not welcoming. Some unknown disaster or plague had reduced all life on its surface and in its roiling seas to a fraction of what it once must have been. Not even the K’eremu desired to risk encountering what unspeakable virulence might linger on the devastated surface. Their ship and every other departed without penetrating the unnamed world’s atmosphere, leaving it untouched, uncontacted, and unknown. Whatever terrible secret it harbored remained inviolate in the wake of their hasty departure.

  Having been twice disillusioned, neither man nor dog expected much when the third system of the four identified by the K’eremu was reached. So it was with a mix of shock and delight that they reacted to the news that not only had electromagnetic means of communication been detected emanating from the third planet out from the sun, but that a portion of it matched perfectly the language employed by Walker and his canine friend. Allowed to sample it for himself, a misty-eyed Walker found himself listening to the evening news on the BBC. While not exactly the same language he and George spoke, it was more than close enough to provide the necessary confirmation.

  They were home.

  After so many years away, he found he did not know how to react. As the ships emerged into normal space somewhere in the vicinity of the orbit of Neptune, he retreated to quarters, leaving George to further query Sobj-oes and her team in their research facility elsewhere on the ship. As he was trying to decide how next to instruct Gerlla-hyn to proceed, indeed, trying to decide how to proceed himself, a Niyyuu announced himself at the portal.

  “A moment of you time, human Marcus Walker. I am Qeld-wos. With me is also colleague Nabn-dix. We not formally met. Are members of much respected communicators public of Niyu.”

  The Niyyuuan media, Walker realized. Ever present, ever alert for a new angle on the return of the peculiar aliens to their homeworlds, and occasionally irritating. Especially at this singular moment, when he wanted, when he needed, to be left alone to try to figure out what to do next. Which, he reflected, was probably precisely why they wanted to see him now. Oh well. It would be impolite to deny them a minute or two. He directed the portal to open.

  Two had announced themselves. Three entered. The third was not a representative of the energetic Niyyuuan media. Walker’s eyes widened, and then he opened his mouth to shout in the direction of the room’s communicator.

  A flash from the circular weapon clasped in the powerful suckers of the third visitor’s right arm flap knocked Walker to the floor. As the pair of obviously surprised Niyyuu turned in his direction, Pret-Klob fired at each of them in turn. The tall, slender forms crumpled. Perhaps they had received a stronger charge from the Vilenjji’s weapon. Or possibly Walker’s constitution was tougher. Regardless of the reason, while both human and Niyyuu lay stunned, only he remained conscious.

  Advancing with the peculiar side-to-side lurching motion that was so distinctive of his kind, Pret-Klob entered farther into the room until he was standing almost directly over the recumbent human. Walker felt as if every part of his body had gone to sleep. The tingling sensation was intense. As he struggled to speak and to move arms and legs, he watched helplessly as the Vilenjji adjusted something on the side of his weapon.

  Where was George? he found himself thinking frantically. Paralyzed, he could not call to the communicator for help. Slowly, he felt some feeling, some muscular control, returning. The pinprick, stabbing sensation of returning neurological normality was excruciating.

  “Umg…unk…” He still couldn’t form words. Not quite. But soon…

  “Soon” soon became irrelevant. The Vilenjji was not stupid. His very presence here, on board the Jhevn-bha, attested to that. It should not have been. But it was. As soon as he had regained sufficient control of his larynx and tongue, lips and lungs, Walker wondered at it aloud.

  By way of response, the calm and composed Vilenjji pointed to the still unconscious bodies of the two Niyyuuan media representatives. “After the unmentionable K’eremu returned me to my own vessel, following my regrettably unsuccessful attempt to repossess property rightfully belonging to my association, I subsequently made contact with the pair who presently occupy the floor across from you. A proper entrepreneur is always alert to potentially useful contacts. Familiar as I was from the time I had been compelled to spend on Niyu with the characteristic excesses of their kind, I devised a procedure that, with luck, I believed might allow me to make contact with my absent inventory yet one more time.” The arm flap that held the circular weapon gestured absently. “As you can observe, that possibility has been fulfilled.”

  Breathing hard, still unable to move his arms or legs, Walker looked up at his tormentor, his relentless pursuer, his primary abductor, and wished he had enough muscular control to spit.

  “You bribed them,” he managed to whisper accusingly, in reference to the two inert Niyyuu.

  “Not at all.” It was difficult to tell if the Vilenjji’s tone was reflecting as abstract a quality as pride. “They were traveling on a different vessel, one of their own kind. Less than fully versed in the details of the relationship between myself and wandering inventory, they proved amenable when my representatives suggested that there was an acquaintance of yours who very much wished to see and offer you congratulations before your final return to your world.

  “Captivated by the visual and aural possibilities inherent in such a confrontation and knowing that I would be alone and isolated as the only one of my kind to participate in the further progress of th
is expedition, it was agreed that I could arrange to pay for transport and accommodation on their ship, and that when the opportunity presented itself, they would arrange for me to join them so that they could record the proposed meeting between us. After which, having no other choice, I would return with them to their vessel, thence to be reunited with my own people at some undetermined future date.” This time it was the unarmed limb that gestured.

  “On board their vessel I kept largely to myself, both from choice and need. With Niyyuu, Iollth, Hyfft, and the occasional Tuuqalian mixing freely during the visits to previous systems, my presence went largely unremarked upon. Each group assumed the other had authorized it. The only risk was that knowledge of my presence might be conveyed to this particular vessel, and thence to you or to someone familiar with our less than genial mutual history.” Now there was no mistaking the conceit in his tone. “Thankfully, that did not occur.”

  The tingling pain coursing through Walker’s body was diminishing, but was still prevalent enough to make him clench his teeth. “You’re right. You’re all alone here. Your association can’t help you. There’s no way you can—recover your wandering inventory. So—what do you want?”

  An answer appeared in the form of the muzzle, or business end, of the Vilenjji’s circular weapon, as it inclined downward until it was pointing directly between Walker’s eyes. As much as it was possible for his muscles to freeze up again, they did so. He gaped at the purple-skinned, big-eyed alien.

  “You’re going to kill me?”

  “I am going to kill you,” Pret-Klob replied calmly.

  Walker struggled for a response. His initial reaction was to say something dramatic, along the lines of “If you kill me, you’ll never get off the Jhevn-bha alive!” He did not say it because it was patently clear that Pret-Klob had already considered and accepted that inevitability. Walker realized he was neither going to reach or affect the Vilenjji that way. So instead, he retorted, “You’re going to destroy valuable stock? Without any possibility of recompense? That doesn’t sound like prudent Vilenjji business practice to me.”