The Light-years Beneath My Feet (The Taken)

by Alan Dean Foster

  Unless it was failing for the first time since it had been implanted in him, the Vilenjji translator was providing a faithful rendering of the creature’s speech. Swallowing, Walker concentrated on the being’s physical beauty while struggling manfully to overlook the sound of its voice. The latter lingered in the air, clinging to his ears like a leech to an open wound. Taking note of the external translator clipped to one slender ear, he felt confident in replying.

  “No, I do like—I enjoy conversation. I’m glad you took pleasure from my little demonstration.” Desperately, he looked around for someone else he knew, someone he could inform his beautiful but sandpaper-voiced questioner that he absolutely had to speak with—right there and right now. But he recognized no one else in the milling cluster, and George had wandered off somewhere out of sight.

  “Enjoy?” One willowy arm reached out to encircle his shoulders, its touch more caress than grasp. “Was overwhelming! Remarkable. Never seen nothing such like it before.” The exquisite face bent toward his. “You can prepare many foods suchlike?” The delicate flowerlike fragrance that emanated from the small mouth somewhat mitigated the unrivaled harshness of tone it accompanied.

  Holding his ground as well as any cultured Sessrimathe, he forced himself not to turn away. “I’ve learned how to prepare many specialties, yes, including a few of my own devising based on recipes from my homeworld.”

  “Earth,” the creature snapped. Issuing from that small, ornately painted mouth, the single syllable sounded like a pencil being pushed through a cheese grater. “Home of humans.”

  “You’ve been doing some research. On me.” His surprise was genuine.

  The tips of both ears inclined slightly forward as all four tails came up slightly. “No special research. Perused preparatory materials that accompanied your presentation. Never hear of humans before today. Never hear of Earth before today.” She paused thoughtfully. “Self-centered naming. Sessrimathe say you first of your kind they ever encounter.”

  Walker nodded. While thoroughly entranced by the creature’s physical appearance, he could not wait to escape the sound of its voice.

  “I am Viyv-pym-parr of the Niyyuu, second daughter of Avur-pym, reigning regent of Kojn-umm Province on the world of Niyu, fourth world of the sun Niy.”

  Oh, well—royalty, he mused. He forced himself to linger awhile longer. Perhaps the alien would hire him to come to her embassy or residence and cook for her and a group of her friends. As his skills had improved, he had been doing more and more of that, fulfilling requests from the curious and those always on the lookout for such novelties. Not for the income, which he and his friends did not need, but to express himself, to have something to do, much as Braouk recited the sagas of his people. Besides, he had not yet tired of looking at those legs, or those eyes, even if they were part and parcel of something that was far from human. Knowing that the Niyyuu was female only added to her attraction—until such times as she opened her mouth.

  As to her reasons for seeking him out, his guess turned out to be half-right.

  “I needs good cooker in palace. Competent is good. Unique is better even. You human, be both. Only one of you.”

  He smiled inwardly. Despite all he had accomplished, he was still more highly esteemed for his novelty value than for the skills he had developed. Ah, well. At least he was a sovereign novelty. He responded to her proposal by gesturing in the approved Sessrimathe manner.

  “I understand. You’d like me to come and prepare some dishes for you in your residence here on Seremathenn. On which continent is it located, may I ask?” Though not in need of income thanks to the continuing generosity of the charitable Sessrimathe, he would not turn down the chance to supplement it should the opportunity arise. Besides, how demanding could be the desires of a creature so lissome—albeit orally grating.

  As it turned out, he had no idea.

  “Prepare dishes, yes. Here on Serematheeny no.” The arm around his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. The increased pressure was more suggestive than discomfiting. “Need cooker in palace of Kojn-umm. On Niyyuu.” When the stunned human failed to respond, Viyv-pym rolled her extraordinary eyes upward and gestured with her other two-fingered hand. “Out there. New audience awaits you.”

  The offer was as unexpected as it was unprecedented. For the first time since his arrival on Seremathenn, he was being offered a way off world. Offered a chance to travel to a distant elsewhere—and at no cost to himself. Indeed, he would profit economically from the venture. If he accepted, of course. Thinking fast, he knew he could only accept if one condition was met. One condition over which his keen if somewhat crude prospective employer had no control. Looking up, he met wondrous, hopeful eyes and tried not to lose himself in them.

  “This may sound strange to you, Viyv-pym-parr . . .”

  The eyes came closer. They were not hypnotic—not with that garbage disposal of a voice to accompany them—but they loomed before him like twin cabochons of alien soul. “Okay from now to call me as Viyv-pym. You know me.”

  Slightly confused by the shift in alien nomenclature but willing to comply, he replied without hesitation. “All right, Viyv-pym.” The irregular syllables slid delectably off his tongue. “This may sound strange to you, but before I can give serious consideration to your offer, it’s important that I know where Niyu is located in relation to Seremathenn and the rest of the galaxy. I suppose the first thing is to access an appropriate map or schematic and then—”

  “Got one right here, human Marc.” Both golden-yellow eyes blinked again. Or was it a double wink, he wondered? And if so, what might it signify? Some things, he decided, he was better off not pondering for too long.

  From within a hidden pocket concealed beneath the kilt-skirt she withdrew a small stylus with a brushed metallic gray surface. Entwining two long, serpentine fingers around it caused the device to generate several three-dimensional scenes in the space between them. As she cycled rapidly through the available images, he caught fleeting glimpses of life and landscapes that were as foreign to him as life on Seremathenn was to that of Earth. Despite their inherent alienness and the speed of their passing, one or two were more than a little suggestive of something at once familiar and inaccessible.

  When the map of the galaxy appeared, she focused on one section and enlarged it. A pinpoint of light brightened. “Seremathenn,” she rasped at him. A barely perceptible flexing of one digit caused the light to shift elsewhere. “Niyu.”

  He caught his breath. While his ignorance of matters astronomic prevented him from even beginning to estimate the actual distances involved, there was no denying that Viyv-pym’s homeworld lay an impressive distance from Seremathenn. Furthermore, it was clearly located away from the galactic center and out along one of the galaxy’s two main spiral arms. A step of cosmic dimensions toward Earth. Toward home. Although it was apparent that Viyv-pym herself knew nothing of humans or their world, it was conceivable that another of her kind more versed in astronomics or the intelligences that populated the galaxy might have some knowledge of humanity. Or perhaps there were far-ranging sentients with some faint knowledge of Earth who visited distant Niyu but never came as far in as Seremathenn. Possibilities not risked were possibilities that would never exist.

  Provided Niyu lay within the right spiral arm—the same spiral arm as Earth. If not, by accepting her offer of employment he would only be taking himself even farther away from the world of his birth, perhaps irrevocably so. His chances of making the right choice in the galactic scheme of things were fifty-fifty. He hesitated—but not for long.

  Hell, he’d bought and sold consignments and futures of raw materials worth millions of dollars on odds far worse than that. Of one thing he was 100 percent certain: remaining on Seremathenn certainly brought him no closer to home.

  What were his other options? If he declined the Niyyuu’s offer he might never come across another half as promising. He might very well live out his life on Seremathenn, the lone re
presentative of his species among millions of creatures whose intrinsic courtesy rendered them no less alien. Or if he bided his time he might encounter other, similar offers—to carry him off in directions even less promising than Niyu. He had not become successful in his chosen profession through indecision. It was time to take a gamble.

  “I accept, with one condition.”

  Eyes like polished pendants of Scythian gold stared back into his own. “You will receive treatment in accordance with you skills. Medium of exchange will be satisfying.” The tips of her astonishing ears quivered, and the light of the room shimmered on her bronzed metallic epidermis. “Regency of Kojn-umm treats properly the members of its staff.”

  “It’s not about money, or living conditions. You’ve researched my background. Do you know how I came to be here, on Seremathenn?”

  She turned off and repocketed the compact image generator. As she reached beneath the folds of her kilt-skirt to do so, he found his eyes wandering. If she noticed the shift in attention or his subsequent confusion and embarrassment, she gave no sign.

  “You was Vilenjji captive. A people harboring more than their share of clods. Is clear violation of all civilized norms to treat any sentients as goods. Cannot sell sentients.” Dark circlet of mystery, the perfect painted circle of a mouth expanded slightly. “Can only rent them.”

  Not quite sure that she was making a joke, he held back from laughing. “During the time I spent on the Vilenjji vessel, I made three friends. Three very close friends.” He took a deep breath. “If I agree to come and work for you, I would like for them to come along with me.”

  Again the double blink, twice this time, the lilac eyelids flashing. “You ask much.”

  He held his ground, much as he had when confronted by difficult decisions at his brokerage in Chicago. Trading, doing business, were skills in which he had full confidence.

  “Other captives,” she murmured, her voice like steel filings caught in a car’s transmission. “Other uniques. Have these, you’s friends, entertaining skills like you?”

  Walker proceeded to enumerate the many and varied virtues of his companions. Fortunately there was no need for embellishment, unless one counted his bending of the truth when describing Sque’s personality as “independent.”

  For a long moment he was afraid she wouldn’t agree to his terms. He spent the time studying the lithe, limber alien shape while simultaneously wondering what the hell he was doing. The voice, he told himself. Concentrate on that wince-inducing gravel crusher of a voice and ignore everything else.

  I have been away from Earth for far, far too long, he reflected to himself uneasily.

  “I give you what you want,” she finally responded. “Wanting only one, I deign to accept four.” She held up both slender hands. “Count one unique for each finger.” For some reason this observation caused her to emit a series of short, sharp, and decidedly unfeminine coughs that he later learned were Niyyuuan indicators of amusement.

  The offer was more than he could have hoped for, Walker felt. Now all he had to do was convince his companions to go along with the deal. He was certain of only one thing: with friends or without, he was going with Viyv-pym. He was not going to pass on this, the best chance that had come along since his arrival on Seremathenn to get him a little nearer home.

  But if his friends opted out, it was going to be a long and lonely journey indeed.

  “Bargain is striked.” One hand reached for him, approaching like an eel swimming underwater. He didn’t flinch. He did not want to flinch.

  The alien hand touched his neck, the two long flexible digits sliding around to the back. Slick, leathery, cool skin brushed the short hair near the top of his spine. He shivered slightly. Voice, he reasoned frantically. Remember that awful voice. The fingers pressed against him ever so slightly. Good God, he thought wildly, surely she’s not going to . . . ?

  The serpentine fingers withdrew. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

  “I know you’s living details. Transport will be provided you and you’s companions. After one ten-day passing, time depart for Niyu. Is doable you?”

  He nodded. “Is doable. I will be ready.”

  The spectacular frill on the back of her head and neck flared, catching the light and splintering it into shards of liquid gold. “Look forward you being on Niyu. I know you will enjoy.” A hand and arm gestured at the room packed with the elegant assembled. “In Kojn-umm, not so many always talking. Will be smaller audience for you art, but more appreciative.”

  With that she turned and strode, or rather flowed, away through the crowd. For some time Walker was able to follow her progress, the slender pointed ears and frilled bronze head rising and falling above the majority of other aliens. Then she was gone. Only then did the full import of his decision hit home. Not only would he be leaving behind the civilized culture of Seremathenn, he would be abandoning, perhaps permanently, the protection and charity that had been afforded him by the compassionate Sessrimathe.

  Real profit only comes from taking real risks, he reminded himself. He began to make his own way through the crowd, absently acknowledging the compliments that came his way. More important business now pressed heavily on his mind.

  He had some serious convincing to do.

  It was Braouk’s turn to choose the ornamentation for the center of their common room. The Tuuqalian had set the room the task of producing a series of small geysers to remind him of a favorite undeveloped region on his homeworld. The result, as installed by the building’s AI, was a trio of small, geologically impeccable cones that spouted steadily from the center of the commons. How the building’s intelligent response system had managed the plumbing to both deliver and recover the boiling hot water without swathing everything in sight in a sheen of condensation was a mechanical mystery Walker made no effort to try to unravel. He had long since given up marveling at or trying to comprehend the wonders of Sessrimathe science.

  The four friends sat around the bubbling, spraying, simulated geysers, but they were not relaxed. Not while faced with the single most momentous decision that had confronted them since their arrival on Seremathenn. To go with Walker or to stay: each of his friends, irrespective of their own individual manner of thinking, could only come to one of two conclusions.

  Braouk was uncertain but ready. “Too long here, away from my home, hearts breaking.” All four massive upper tentacles curled forward to rest against the sides of his mouth. “I am prepared for whatever may come.”

  Suspended in his custom-built chair—which he was definitely going to miss, he knew—and with the Tuuqalian on board, Walker turned his attention to the K’eremu. Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu sat on the floor across from him, her tendrils splayed out around her in familiar floral fashion. She would have reveled in the water from the geysers had it only been many dozens of degrees cooler. As it was, the occasional droplet that escaped the system’s recovery field dripped from her maroon skin or glistened on the bits of metal and gemstone and beads that cloaked her person in a small riot of color. Somewhat to his surprise, she concurred with the Tuuqalian.

  “There is still much to learn here, both from the Sessrimathe and from those other sentients who visit them. But there is much to learn anywhere that is new, and I tire of the conversation of well-meaning fools, no matter how superficially intelligent they may appear to be.” A pair of tendrils rose to wave in Walker’s direction. “I too am ready to move on. There is always something to learn, and one may hope, however unreasonably, that such a journey will indeed bring us nearer K’erem, the true center of advanced civilization in this or any other galaxy.”

  Two aboard. Only one more left to signal his agreement and, truth be told, the one whose acceptance mattered most to Walker. He glanced down at the small figure that was sprawled on the semianimate rug to his immediate left.

  “George?”

  The dog looked away. “I dunno, Marc. Talk about taking a leap into the unknown . . .�
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  “You said before that you’d leave here if the right opportunity presented itself. Well, it’s presented itself. We don’t even have to worry about money. In fact, not only do we get free transportation a parstep closer to home, we’re getting paid for going.”

  Dark brown eyes looked up at him from beneath shaggy brows. “That’s just it, Marc. Are we getting closer to home? If the other arm of the galaxy is where Earth lies, we’ll be heading off down the wrong trail. With a good chance we won’t be able to retrace our steps.” One paw gestured to take in their surroundings. “We’ve got everything we could need here, and we don’t have to work for it.”

  Having dealt with it before, Walker had anticipated the dog’s reluctance. “We’ve been over all this, George. Seremathenn is nice, and the Sessrimathe have been very good to us. But this isn’t home.” He looked up, through the mist being generated by the miniature geysers. “Not for any of us.” He indicated the sprawled shape of the K’eremu. “If the odds are acceptable to Sque, they should be for any of us.”

  “Appropriately astute of you,” she observed approvingly. “You continue to exhibit a limited but commendable ability to learn, however slowly.”

  Wrestling with himself mentally, George held out to the last before yielding. “I said I’d go, yeah. So I’ll go.” He shook his head slowly. “First I had to give up real alleys. Now I’m giving up artificial ones.” Once more the bushy head turned toward the expectant human. “You’d better be guessing right about this, Marc, or I swear I’ll end my days chewing on your bones. These Niyyuu who’ve engaged your services and agreed to take us with you: what are they like?”

  “I’ve only met one of them.” Walker leaned back, and his chair leaned with him, careful to maintain his posture and its attitude. “She was very persuasive.”

  “Obviously,” the dog replied impatiently. “I mean, what are they like? You, me, Braouk-boy over there, or”—he shuddered slightly—“the squid?”