“No.”
At the declamation, voiced in excellent and suitably grating Niyyuuan, debate faltered as one group of participants after another turned to stare at the speaker. Viyv-pym especially appeared taken aback.
Walker held his ground. “No,” he repeated, more softly this time, growling out the single Niyyuuan syllable from the back of a throat that over the past months had grown positively calloused from wrestling with the local language. At his feet, George looked up at his friend as if he had suddenly developed a bad case of cat.
“I am afraid I not understand fully what you negating,” the dignified but bemused vice premier of Fiearek-iib finally replied.
“You said ‘a’ ship. One ship won’t be sufficient.” Pointing, Walker indicated first Sque and then, gesturing over the heads of the assembled toward the back part of the chamber, the massive Tuuqalian. “We need at least three ships. In the event that our respective homeworlds lie great distances apart and in vastly differing directions, the expedition needs to leave Niyu prepared to cope with that possibility.”
The murmuring that arose from the assembled in response to the alien’s assertion was more sedate and considered than that which had preceded it, perhaps because this time those involved were not arguing about one realm or another gaining a financial advantage over its neighbor.
“There would be other good reasons for proceeding in the suggested manner,” the representative from Toroud-eed pointed out. “Embarking on such an unparalleled journey, it would make sense not everyone have to return if, for example, one ship encounter trouble.”
Such thoughts percolated rapidly through the group. “Ships would be traveling far beyond boundaries of known civilization,” the representative continued. “If encounter unexpected hostilities, three properly armed ships much better positioned defend selves than lone one.”
A flurry of energetic, thoughtful responses greeted both observations. By the time discussion had begun to die down once again, Walker’s rationale for the proposal had been completely submerged in other issues.
George nudged his friend’s leg. “Once a trader, always a trader—eh, Marc?”
Bending low, Walker whispered to his friend. “I just thought it would be smarter, and easier, for us to make any demands here instead of dozens of light-years out in unfamiliar space.”
“Very sensible.” Sque had moved to stand close behind them. “A primitive craving, greed is, but occasionally a useful survival trait. Having three ships at our disposal will certainly do our chances of finding a way home no harm.”
Walker looked down at her. “They won’t exactly be at our ‘disposal,’ Sque.”
The K’eremu waved a pair of tendrils at him. “Give me one ten-day to finalize details.” It was an assertion Walker would not have chosen to bet against. In his short and increasingly implausible life, the K’eremu was as sure a thing as he had ever come across. If only, he thought mildly, he could find a way to convince her to come home with him. For just a little while. So she could study the commodities board for a few weeks, perform a quick analysis or two, and then leave him with just a few negligible recommendations.
It was never to be, he knew. Sque was interested in returning only to K’erem. In the many months they had spent together, she had barely learned to tolerate him. Knowing her as he did now he knew that her impression, and opinions of, his species were unlikely to extend to a desire to remain in their presence any longer than actual survival required.
A pity. He would have loved to have seen what she could do with juice concentrate futures.
Some time later, Jhanuud-tir-yed emerged from a conference that had been winnowed down to only the most important figures present. Walker noted that as chief representative of Kojn-umm, Saluu-hir-lek appeared less than happy at having been excluded from the deliberations of the august group. Waving one arm hypnotically, the vice premier of Fiearek-iib approached the four guests. (Unable to remain quiescent subsequent to the astronomer Sobj-oes’s revelations, Braouk had rejoined his companions.)
“It has been decided. Yous will be provided with support in yous’ attempt return yous’ homeworlds in the form of three of Niyu’s finest ships. All three are the most up-to-date and best equipped. Crews will be drawn from vessels operated by all contributing realms. You will have only the best at your service.” She gestured significantly at Walker.
“You official position achieved here on Niyu will continue be maintained on board until such time as you voluntarily leave assigned ship. This decision agreed upon by all participating parties out of respect you accomplishments among us—and also as way of settling arguments among representatives of different realms. As you stated in you military strategy, as alien and not citizen of any realm, you able deliver impartial decisions regarding same.”
Walker was not so divorced from Niyyuuan society that he was unconscious of the honor. “With my friends’ advice and aid, I’ll do my best not to betray any trust you place in me.”
Both of the vice premier’s hands came up. Twinned fingers stroked Walker’s chest. “I sorry I not personally have opportunity get know yous better. Yous a most, most interesting fouring of different types. But better yous go than stay.” Was that a twinkle in one oversized, golden eye? “Better for yous—and better for us.” She stepped back.
“Will take time prepare designated vessels for such unprecedented journey. Until then, a stopping has been called to all traditional fighting. I would personally wish yous return with me to Fiearek-iib to experience hospitality of my realm.” She gestured in the direction of the local hosts. “But Charuchalans claim right of eminence. You will stay here until ships are made ready depart this system. Expect by time yous have dealt with several hundred requests for talkings from media, yous be ready leave even for dead, airless moon.”
With decisions having been made and harmony more or less achieved, the delegates began to break up into small individual groups. Simultaneously relieved and excited, Walker felt a touch at the back of his pants. Turning and seeing Sque looking up at him, he knelt slightly to be nearer eye level with the K’eremu. He did not try to hide his elation.
“Well, Sque, I’m still not sure how it all happened, but I guess we’re finally going home.”
The K’eremu was rather more reserved. “Braouk is going home—maybe. You, and I, and the furry thing on four short legs, are going with him. I would say that with much luck and if the Fate I do not for an instant believe in is on our side, we might be fortunate enough in the course of this journey to encounter the tiniest inkling of where your homeworld or mine happens to lie.”
Walker’s enthusiasm dimmed measurably. “Always the optimist, aren’t you, Sque?”
“Always the realist. You still have no true conception of the size of known space, Marcus Walker. Not even of this infinitesimally small portion of it. Yet I will allow that indications of even peripheral Tuuqalian presence in the region where we hope to go is at least a positive indicator. It forms a destination of a sort, however ephemeral.”
Nearby, George muttered, “With unrestrained zeal like that I don’t see how we can fail to keep our spirits up.”
“Not to fear.” With enviable deportment, the K’eremu proceeded to adjust several strands of the polished, treated bits of metal that decorated her slick-skinned person. “No matter how disheartening the circumstances may become, you will always have the enlightening presence of myself to uplift your dismal, backward selves. Now you must excuse me, for I have a date with a particularly inviting damp hole in the seawall outside.” And without another word, she pivoted on her tendrils and scuttled off through the rapidly dispersing crowd.
Though restricted to the use of the facilities intrinsic to the extensive old-time bivouac area that was serving as temporary home to the visiting forces of Toroud-eed, Biranju-oov, and others, Saluu-hir-lek did not complain. As a leader of traditional military, he was used to the kinds of minor privations that simultaneously appalled and fascinated those Niyyuu who prefer
red to encounter such throwbacks to ancient times only in the media and while surrounded by the comforts of their own dwellings. Since it was his profession, it troubled him only occasionally that while he was restricted to often-primitive amenities, some of which dated to hundreds of years earlier, his alien nemeses were luxuriating in the most modern conveniences the capital city of Charuchal-uul could provide.
He could enjoy them as well, he knew. All he had to do was resign his commission. It raised his spirits to know that the grateful Council of Kojn-umm would never accept it. Back home, in his own realm, he was a venerated hero. Here, in more cosmopolitan Charuchal-uul, he was but one of several important foreign military commanders. For someone used to being the locus of attention, it was a sobering experience.
With the defeat of the traditional army of Charuchal-uul and the commercial and political advantages thus gained, the combined forces of Toroud-eed, Biranju-oov, Divintt-aap and Dereun-oon had voted to stand back and reflect upon what they had accomplished. All of Saluu-hir-lek’s attempts to urge them to build on the triumphs they had already achieved had been met with indecision, if not outright apathy. For one thing, his emissaries had been told, the aliens were leaving. No matter how hard he tried, the general could not convince them that while it might have been the aliens who had developed the initial strategy that had led to their present success, it was he, Saluu-hir-lek of Kojn-umm, who had seen them carried out. And it was he, Saluu-hir-lek, who could lead their combined forces onward, to greater and greater victories. To the total domination, in traditional terms, not of realms, but of this entire continent and perhaps others as well.
They hemmed and hawed. The aliens were leaving. And their troops were tired. No one wanted to march home, or travel by slow, traditional transport. More and more there was a clamor for an end to hostilities. And without the visitors to guide them . . .
The implication was that without the aliens’ contribution there was no guarantee of further victories. Nothing an angrily earnest Saluu-hir-lek said could convince the senior officers of the armies of previously defeated realms that they would be able to continue their string of successes without the visitors’ participation. In a development that was bitterly ironic, Kojn-umm’s greatest traditional military commander found himself a victim of the success of his own subterfuge.
It meant that he would have to go home, too. Carrying with him a considerable degree of accomplishment, to be sure. He had much to be proud of. His successive triumphs had gained much influence for Kojn-umm. He would be hailed in Ehbahr as a greater hero than ever. For most Niyyuu it would have been enough. But not for the frustrated Saluu-hir-lek.
He wanted everything.
There was nothing he could do about it, however. The traditional forces of Kojn-umm could not go on alone, without their quasi-allies. The grand march was finished, done with, over. He would have to take his troops and go home. In triumph, to be sure, but a triumph that would remain personally forever incomplete. What galled him most was that it was clear now that the alien Walker and his duplicitous companions had never had any real interest in the kind of world-girdling conquest that he wanted to pursue. What they had been seeking all along was simply to acquire enough influence to ensure their departure from Niyu, suitably equipped and outfitted to find their way home. Having achieved what they sought, they were prepared to leave him and his greater ambitions in the lurch.
It was not fair. Promises had been broken. Trapped by paradox, he was left stewing in a mixture of triumph and anger.
An orderly entered. No electronics allowed here, in the temporary building that housed his office and that of much of his general staff. Following traditional procedures, information had to be conveyed person to person.
“General, you have a visitor. It claims to know of you by reputation.”
Saluu-hir-lek’s wide eyes fixed on the equally expansive oculars of the orderly. “‘It’?”
The orderly backed out. “You will see for yourself, General.”
The being that assumed the orderly’s place stood only a little taller than the general himself, but was far more massive. Its skin was a dark purplish hue and as bumpy and uneven as a streambed. Eyes proportionately larger even than those of the Niyyuu nearly met in the center of the tapering skull. Though outrageous in appearance, the origin of the unlikely visitor was not unknown to its educated host. Leaning back in the flexible, narrow seat that flexed obediently under the modest weight of his slender frame, Saluu-hir-lek regarded his visitor. While he was surprised, he was not in the least intimidated. His guest was exotic, but his kind were not strangers to the Niyyuu. Nor to any species that considered itself a member of a widespread and cosmopolitan galactic civilization.
“What matter,” the general asked inquiringly, “brings a Vilenjji to traditional combat forces of Niyu?”
Raising one sucker-lined, flap-tipped arm by way of greeting, the thick-bodied visitor sloughed farther into the room. “I am named Pret-Klob, and am here on business, of course. To restore the natural order of things, one might say.” Without waiting to be invited, he settled himself as best he could in the center of the floor. “I have come to recover some missing inventory that was formerly the property of my association.”
Saluu-hir-lek was unimpressed. “What has that do with traditional forces of Kojn-umm?”
“I have taken steps to do the necessary economic research. While not precisely in your possession, you have apparently recently spent a good deal of time proximate to the property in question. Additional inquiries on my part lead me to believe you might be helpful in its recovery.” The flap that comprised the outer half of the creature’s right arm flexed meaningfully. “Should that eventuate, there would be an appropriate commission in it for you.”
The general was already bored with the conversation. Though he had never previously met a Vilenjji in person, he knew them well by reputation and via the all-pervading Niyyuuan media.
“I not need yous’ money.”
The thick cilia that topped the Vilenjji’s tapering head writhed actively. “Then perhaps another inducement might better encourage you to assist us. I am given to understand that there has of late occurred a lapse in your original fondness for certain other visiting non-Niyyuu with whom you have been working.”
What nonsense was this distasteful visitor spouting? “I surmise you speaking of four aliens formerly attached to my staff. What they have to do with the Vilenjji?”
The flap-tipped arm gesticulated again. “They are the property of whom I speak.”
That was unexpected. Saluu-hir-lek was not ashamed to admit that he was taken completely by surprise. His mind worked furiously. Who he was clashed violently with who he wanted to be.
“The Niyyuu consider themselves honorable members galactic society. Within that society, holding of sentients as property considered immoral.”
“But only illegal on worlds that have specific directives against it.” Unperturbed, the Vilenjji gestured afresh. “Otherwise, the relevant business would not be there for such as my association to exploit. The trick is to practice one’s trade while staying clear of those meddlesome, do-gooding species who believe it is their moral right to interfere in the honest business of others. The Sessrimathe, for example. Unless my research is seriously flawed, the autonomous realms of Niyu hold no official legal position on this matter. Such isolated instances as might occur are to be adjudicated on an individual basis.”
Heedless of the prohibitions against the use of modern devices inside a traditional Niyyuuan military encampment, the Vilenjji proceeded to produce a marvelous little information generator. When he had finished perusing the material this placed before him, Saluu-hir-lek found himself torn between conventional morality and a burning desire for something more basic. Or base.
He had once been very fond of the food preparator Walker. These days, the emotions he felt toward the scheming human were more than merely conflicted.
“You want me help you recov
er your ‘property?’ Property that consist of these four visitors?”
The Vilenjji gestured diffidently. “You may elect to accept the applicable commission for doing so or not. My present resources are limited, but still substantial. I think you would be pleased. There are certain trade goods we can offer you that are not readily available on your world.”
Contraband, Saluu-hir-lek mused. There were desirable items that were banned from importation into Niyu. He could not help but wonder what they might be.
“If I assist you in this,” he said slowly, “must present image of virtuous soldier only helping scrupulous off-worlders to recover what rightfully theirs. Leave moral implications for others to sort out.”
The Vilenjji was perfectly agreeable. “While your reputation is of no concern to us, we of course understand that it is of interest to you. Rest assured we are adept at playing the outraged and offended.” His voice, as translated by the device he wore over his speaking organ, grew noticeably edgy. “Recently, we have had much practice.”
Saluu-hir-lek pondered the offer while his guest waited patiently. What manner of prohibited goods the dislikeable alien was offering by way of “commission” the general did not know. What he did know was that by reputation the Vilenjji had access to many things that were often as tempting as they were illegal. Then there was the matter of how he had been used, and lied to, by the four visiting aliens. Was he not entitled to some recompense for the insult he had suffered? If he could no longer make use of their singular talents to achieve his personal goals, then there was no reason to champion them or their cause.
They were determined to leave anyway, to embark on an outlandish, unlikely, and probably suicidal quest in search of their unknown and doubtlessly unreachable homeworlds. Dragging three ships of the Niyyuu, their crews, and multiple blinded media recorders with them to oblivion. Was it not his patriotic duty to try to prevent such a disaster? On thoughtful reflection, the government of Fiearek-iib and the others involved in this farce would probably thank him, albeit in private, for saving them the expense of having to provide three ships and their respective complements to try to fulfill the aliens’ hopeless and costly request. If the visitors were claimed by and taken away by the Vilenjji, fellow citizens of galactic civilization, could not the governments of the realms rightly claim to be morally guiltless of any consequences? Such was how Saluu-hir-lek rationalized the proceedings.
The Light-years Beneath My Feet (The Taken) Page 23