“So you have been outside,” Walker remarked.
“Infrequently. Not since you were brought aboard, I believe.” A faint hint of a desperate longing shaded her words. “I have been on this ship of the Vilenjji for a long, long time.” Limbs stiffened. When they did so, they changed color slightly, shading to a deeper red. “Nevertheless, localized climatic conditions are not what is primarily responsible for my elective solitary.” As argent eyes rotated to look up at him again, he sat down, bringing his own orbs more in line with hers. If she appreciated the courtesy, she did not comment on it.
“Then why do you stay holed up in here?” As he posed the query, he found himself wondering if the Vilenjji translator was capable of conveying the full force of an intentional pun.
“I have no one to talk to,” she replied tersely.
He frowned and noted that she observed the motion of his eyebrows with casual interest. “From what I’ve been told, and seen, the translator implants allow any sentient to talk to any other. At least, it does so among oxygen breathers who converse by modulating air.”
“No, you do not understand.” Ambling close, she sat down next to him. That is, she allowed her flexible limbs to collapse beneath her, causing her upper body to sink vertically until it was once more in contact with supporting stone. “At first, I did try. We K’eremu by nature tend to prefer our own company to that of others, even among our own kind. We are not hermits. Members of a progressive species do not build a civilization by living in isolation from one another. We cooperate when and as necessary. Socially, however, we prefer when possible to keep to ourselves. This is uncommon among space-going species.” This declamation she conducted with a waving, dancing pair of limbs.
“Also,” she added, “I am more intelligent than any of the other captives. Coupled with the natural impatience that is endemic to my kind, I therefore cannot avoid finding them and their attempts at conversation uninteresting and boring.”
Walker nodded slowly. “I see. And how do you find me?”
One limb reached out to rest against his knee. The contact was gentle, almost reassuring, in a feminine sort of way—if the touch of an alien cephalopod could be called feminine.
“Interesting,” she told him. Without quite knowing why he should, he swelled slightly with pride. “And boring,” she added. Ego deflation was immediate.
“It is not your fault,” she hastened to add. “You cannot help what you are. Everyone knows that intelligence exists in direct proportion to the number of a species’ manipulative limbs.”
Reflexively, Walker found himself regarding his two hands and wondering if his feet would qualify. He could, after all, though with some effort, pick up a pencil with his toes.
“There are many measures of intelligence,” he muttered defensively.
“There, there.” The rubbery, flexible limb stroked his knee. “Do not take it so hard. Some species are bigger and stronger than others. Some smell better. Others have sharper eyesight, or better hearing. Some run faster. The K’eremu simply happen to be smarter.”
“Not too smart to be captured by the Vilenjji,” he threw back.
“I was alone. That was typical. Even so, I ordinarily would not have been sufficiently surprised to have been abducted. I had access to means of communication, to ways of calling for help. Naturally, beings that habitually prefer their own society need to have ways of drawing upon the assistance and expertise of others.”
Walker was intrigued. “Then why didn’t you? Call for help.”
“I was, ummm, not my usual self.”
Listening, the human wondered if the translator had rendered her speaking accurately. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“There are among my kind several easily ingestible herbal blends of particular potency. Among these is one called si’dana, another joqil. I am perhaps to some extent overly enamored of both, and certainly was so at the time of my taking.”
His perception of the remarkable alien changed abruptly. “You’re an addict!”
The accusation did not appear to sting. “Like any K’eremu, I like what I like.”
“How do you cope?” He gestured at their damp surroundings. Thankfully, the light drizzle had once more given way to a heavy, enshrouding mist. “Here, I mean.”
“The Vilenjji take care to study each species they intend to sample before settling on the specific individuals they wish to seize. In my case, that apparently extended to a chemical analysis of the food I was eating. Thankfully, a sufficiency of both stimulants is incorporated into my daily rations.”
He nodded. “Among my people, addiction to ‘stimulants’ is not considered a sign of intelligence.”
“Would you recognize such a sign if it were waved in front of you? Do not think to criticize your betters!” The limb tip slid off his knee.
His initial reaction was to snap back. But he had learned George’s lessons well. He merely nodded, wondering how she would perceive the gesture, and elected to change the subject. No wonder the K’eremu were a race of solitary intellects. If they were all as sarcastic and insulting as this one, it was difficult to see how they could stand one another, let alone anyone else.
“You know how the Vilenjji operate?”
Limbs flexed. He thought he was starting to get the hang of the manifold semaphoring. “Certainly. I talk to them occasionally.”
He started. “You talk to them? I’ve been trying to talk to one of them, any of them, ever since I was brought here. They just stare back and ignore me.”
More limb fluttering. “What did I just say about relative intelligence? I can understand why they would want to talk to me. Why would they want to talk to you?”
Walker opened his mouth to reply, thought a moment, closed it. Far worse than the K’eremu’s rudeness was the realization that it might have a basis in fact. “Maybe they just find you more, uh, interesting.”
“Of course they do. They are very good at recognizing and identifying individual species’ characteristics. Unfortunately, they fail to appreciate that I am also far more intelligent than any of them. Where their own abilities are concerned, they are prisoners of a remarkable conceit.”
How fortunate that the K’eremu are not. He thought it, but did not say it. George’s multiple lessons in tactful humility had been well taken. It was time for another diplomatic change of subject. One that poured out of him in a flood. Not wanting her to think less of him than she already did, he hoped the translator did not convey the fullness of his desperation.
“If you talk to the Vilenjji, then maybe you can help me to understand,” he gestured at their surroundings, “all this. Why is this being done? What’s going to happen to all of us? Why do the Vilenjji do this? Are they just curious? Are they embarked on some kind of scientific collecting expedition and we’re the prize specimens?” He also wanted to ask, “What happens to the specimens when we arrive at the Vilenjji’s final destination?” but he could not. Not yet.
Again the swelling sigh. It was remarkable to observe the excessive dilation of her body, which was apparently no more physically damaging to her system than a shrug of his shoulders would be to him.
“Poor biped. You really are ignorant, aren’t you?”
Fine. I’m stupid, he thought. Dumb monkey-boy, that’s me. But at least I’m not an addict. Go ahead and explain it all; I’m listening. Though he knew George would be frantic by now, the dog would simply have to wait.
Settling herself, her flexible limbs splayed around her lower body like the petals of some great red flower, she proceeded to enlighten him.
“First I need a reference point, somewhere to begin. So that I do not repeat myself.” Eyes like deep-set flattened coins regarded him through the drifting, intervening mist. “How much of galactic civilization is your kind familiar with?”
At the risk of seeing not only himself but his entire species knocked down the stupid ladder another couple of rungs, he knew he had no choice but to reply honestly. “None, a
ctually. As far as I know, we’re unaware anything like it exists.”
It was evident Sque found this hard to accept. “You have no astronomy?”
“We do. I guess our stargazers haven’t looked or listened in the right places yet.”
“Or with the right methods. Well, I am not going to give you a complete course in galactic history. Suffice to say you would not be able to follow most of it anyway.” A pause, during which he did not respond. He was getting good at that.
“Accept that a galactic civilization exists. Your world obviously exists beyond its most distant fringes. Mine lies somewhat closer. So do those inhabited by the great majority of our fellow abductees. It is that isolation from the mainstream of galactic civilization that allows the Vilenjji to engage in their nefarious activities with some hope of profiting from them.”
He nodded reflexively. “Then this is all about profit. This is not some kind of scientific collecting expedition.”
She pulsed slightly. K’eremu laughter, he thought. Or maybe just alien flatulence.
“The Vilenjji are no more interested in science than they are in devoting themselves to charitable works. No, I must correct that. One cannot varnish an entire species on the basis of the actions of a few. While I am not intimately familiar with the sociology of Vilenjjian civilization, if that is an appropriate word, I do know that if an evaluation were conducted by an impartial party, they would not rank among the races most noted for their philanthropic attitudes.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“Sell us. Individually if possible, in groups if they feel the need for speed. There are on board this large vessel numerous groups of captives, representing many species: some intelligent, some less so, others simple primitives.” The way she looked at him Walker could not be sure into which category she had placed humankind.
“ ‘Sell us.’ ” Walker accepted the statement as fact. “Somehow, I always felt that if superior beings existed beyond Earth, they would long ago have dispensed with something like slavery as immoral.”
“It is immoral. Did I say it was moral? I did not say that. What I said was that the Vilenjji intend to sell us. Just because a thing is immoral, or against the law, does not mean it cannot exist. Hailing from worlds existing outside the principal ebb and flow of galactic civilization, both socially and galographically, we fall outside the scope of civilized attention. The Vilenjji would not dare abduct and attempt to deal in citizens of known worlds. But because of our comparative isolation, the nature of our intelligence and of our credentials for qualifying for that status are open to general interpretation and remain suspect. That which one species deems civilized, another may regard as unspeakably primeval. You and I, for example.”
He considered. “Yet despite your opinion of me, you would not keep and regard me as a piece of property, as something to be owned.” There followed a pause, prompting a somewhat louder and slightly belligerent, “Would you?”
“No, of course not,” she finally replied. “To do such a thing is contrary to natural law, as well as abhorrent to a higher species. But there are others, less troubled by ethical concerns, who are willing to overlook the moral in their search for novelty. That is how you should now view yourself: as a novelty. A novel commodity, if you prefer.”
“I prefer unwilling captive.” He wiped at the moisture that had been collecting on his head and shoulders as they talked.
“You have determination. Do not let it lead you to do something you may come to regret. As a general rule, the Vilenjji are indifferent to their captives. Their attention borders on apathy. They are interested only in product. Focus on surviving and they will be content to ignore you. Coming from deep within civilization, they consider themselves far superior to any of their captives.”
Walker kept his tone carefully neutral. “That must be hard for you to accept.”
A few limbs rose and gestured. “Not at all. My mental capacity is so far beyond theirs that they cannot conceive of so large a gap in intellect. They take my obvious superiority for indifference. Given their lack of interest and their dissolute intent, I see no point in wasting time trying to enlighten them. It would not gain me my release and my return to home anyway. They will simply sell me to a people even less intelligent than themselves.”
Could a K’eremu, or at least this particular K’eremu, even be insulted, Walker found himself wondering? He much preferred the company of his own kind. Chicago versus K’eremu. Sooty versus snooty.
“Yet you’re stuck in here and they’re out there,” he could not resist adding.
“A lamentable state of affairs, to be sure,” she told him. “Sadly, even advanced intelligence can be surprised and overcome by a sufficient application of brute force. In the use of that the Vilenjji are regrettably proficient. Sophisticated argumentation tends to lose much of its ability to compel when confronted by the business end of a gun.”
He was quiet for a while, as they sat together in the mist, each lost in their own thoughts, each contemplating a future devoid of optimism. When he at last spoke again, his tone was subdued.
“Then there’s no hope for any of us. To get out of this and get home, I mean.”
“Are you being deliberately awkward again?” She scanned his face, and he wondered what she saw there. “Or is it only sincere naÏveté? One does not escape from a starship. Even if it were possible, where would one escape to? I do not know how long you have been here, but knowing something as I do of the general speed of this vessel, although speed is not a precisely accurate term when it comes to the physics of interstellar travel, I can tell you that I am many, many dozens of parsecs from my home system. I would seriously doubt that you are much nearer to your own.” Limbs shifted. It was starting to drizzle again.
“Best to hope for placement with an understanding buyer, on a world whose ecology is not uncomfortably dissimilar to your own. That, and a remaining life given over to tolerable pursuits. My personal fear is that I will be sold not on the basis of my mental powers but for the attraction of my digital dexterity, and that I will be asked to provide entertainment by juggling with my limbs instead of my mind.”
Walker had visions of himself, consigned forever to life on some unknown, unimaginable alien world, collared and chained side by side with George.
“There has to be something we can do,” he protested. He’d already asked as much of the dog, whose response had been the canine equivalent of “Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass good-bye.” He doubted he would get that kind of response from Sque. For one thing, she had no ass.
But while less colorful, her response was not any more encouraging. “To the Vilenjji you represent an expenditure of time, money, and effort. They will want that returned to them, with a profit. No amount of pleading, of asserting your intelligence, however difficult that might be to prove, of outrage, of appeal to whatever ethical standards the Vilenjji might possess, is going to get you back to your homeworld. I have seen it tried by others; all of that, and more. Nothing works. The Vilenjji are implacable. They are also large, physically powerful, determined, and personally disagreeable. Better to spend your time concentrating on maintaining your health. There is nothing you can do.”
He rose. “Maybe there’s nothing you can do, for all your vaunted intelligence! But I’m getting out of here. Someday, some way, I’m getting out!” Pivoting sharply, he slipped and nearly fell. Recovering as much of his dignity from the near fall as he could, he straightened and stomped out of the K’eremu ecosystem and back toward the grand enclosure.
A lilting, moist voice called after him. “When you do, hold your breath. By doing so, most oxygen breathers can live for another minute or so in the vacuum of space before they either boil or freeze solid, depending on their proximity to the nearest stellar body.”
He slowed slightly, turned, and shouted back into the mist that had already swallowed up the K’eremu. “It was very nice to meet you, Sque. Thanks for all the inform
ation.”
There was no response. He would have been surprised if there had been.
Lying on the ground cover, his head resting on his crossed forepaws, George perked up immediately when Walker emerged from the mist-shrouded compartment. The dog was livid. While George could not flush, he could certainly make use of his voice.
“What the lost bones happened to you in there? Where have you been? I was almost ready to come in after you!” He paused. “Almost.”
Kneeling, Walker reached out to pet the dog. George would have none of it, backing swiftly out of the man’s reach. “Don’t be angry, George. I learned a lot from the resident.”
Anger immediately forgotten, the dog looked past him, toward the rain-swept private enclosure. “Something does live in there? What is it? A talking mold?”
Walker shook his head. “Kind of hard to describe to a dog from Chicago. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen an octopus, or a squid?”
George surprised him. “Sure. Lots of times. Fancy restaurants throw them out all the time. People order them, see what they look like on a plate, then refuse to eat them. I’m perfectly happy to take the throwaways. One being’s refusal is another’s edible refuse. Not much taste, but filling, and nice and chewy.”
“Don’t let Sque ever hear you talk like that. She doesn’t think much of anything besides her own kind as it is.”
“So it’s a she. Well, what did ‘she’ have to say that was so important it kept you in there for hours?”
“I told you I was sorry.” Since kneeling was starting to cause the backs of his thighs to ache, he chose a soft-looking spot and sat down. Initial annoyance forgotten, the dog promptly plopped its head onto his lap. Absently, Walker stroked the back of George’s head as he repeated everything Sque had told him.
When he had finished, the dog picked its muzzle back up. “Doesn’t sound very promising. But then, it’s not anything worse than what I expected. We’ll just have to take life day to day. She’s right about one thing, of course. There’s no way out of here. Out of this.”
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