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Bound together and launched by some unseen and unfamiliar alien mechanism, the three sharpened shafts spun around a central axis as they flew toward him—the spinning, barbed points clearly designed to do maximum damage to anyone they struck. Walker ducked behind shielding stone as they whizzed past to shatter themselves against the wall behind him in a spray of broken metal tips and splintered wooden shafts. All around him was shouting, screaming, and the “nails scraping on blackboards” Niyyuuan equivalent of bloodthirsty cries. Given the inherent raspiness of the native speaking voice, the latter made up in ear-grating harshness what they occasionally lacked in volume.

Huddled at the base of the stone rampart and Walker’s feet, George glanced up sullenly. “So much for having a quiet meeting and making polite inquiries.”

“Just stay down,” Walker advised him. “You’ll be fine.”

“Sure. Unless the fortress is overrun. Then I’ll be fine barbeque.”

“What makes you think any local with any sense would try eating something as alien-looking as you?”

The dog turned his face to the wall. “I can’t imagine why that thought doesn’t make me feel completely secure. Incidentally, you might give it a tumble yourself.”

It had not occurred to Walker that the assaulters of Jalar-aad-biidh might regard him as a fit subject for nibbling. As a newly skilled cook, he was not used to regarding himself as a potential cookee. While Saluu-hir-lek—displaying commendable, or foolish, disregard for his own personal safety—rallied his forces, Viyv-pym leaned against Walker to reassure him.

“That arthret that just miss you was an aberration, a lucky launching. See?” She tugged gently on his arm. Not wanting to appear fainthearted in her company, he allowed himself to be pulled forward for a better view.

The panorama spread out before him very much resembled paintings he had seen of ancient medieval battles. The participants were alien, their accoutrements foreign, and the design and layout of the fortress itself different in a number of aspects from what humans would have constructed, but hand-to-hand fighting was fairly similar regardless of body size, shape, and the number of digits on weapons-wielding hands.

He was struck once again by the slenderness of both the combatants and their weapons. The tall, slim Niyyuu swung or stabbed with spears, pikes, and narrow-bladed swords. There was nary a battle-axe or mace in sight. Absent the need to protect barrel-chested warriors, shields were similarly slim and lightweight. Unexpectedly, he almost laughed. In spite of the fact that blood was being spilled in copious quantity, assorted body parts were being carved from torsos, and individuals were dying, the crowded battlefield that spread out in front of the fortress’s outer wall appeared populated by clashing armies of heavily armed, heavily armored, high-couture models. Despite the very real death and destruction, a part of him couldn’t help thinking Vogue/Cosmo rather than Soldier of Fortune.

That somewhat risible image vanished instantly when a sling-boosted short spear went right through the neck of a bolt-firing Kojn-umm soldier standing atop an elevated platform off to Walker’s left. Dropping her weapon, the female warrior grabbed reflexively at the protruding shaft of the lance as she toppled over and plunged into the swirling throng of fighters below. No more laughter bubbled up in Walker’s throat.

Saluu-hir-lek remained in the thick of the fighting: ranging back and forth along the wall, urging on his soldiers, altering defensive strategy in response to shifts in the enemy’s plan of attack, shouting commands, all the while doing serious damage with his own sword. Walker could see why the general was lionized by Kojnumm society. Whether it was tactically wise for him to place himself in such danger was not a matter for visitors to question. Walker hoped the general would survive the battle. While other Niyyuu had been of little help to him and his friends in their quest to get home, dead ones would be of no use whatsoever.

Bobbing up and down in the midst of the ferocious skirmishing like so many electronic imps were representatives of the media from both Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed. They were easily recognizable by their bright orange attire and the fact that they wielded recording and broadcasting equipment, not armor and weapons. Amazingly, they moved with ease among the combatants, who largely ignored their presence.

Walker pointed out the nearest. “Surely the media must suffer the occasional casualty. A stray spear, or short bolt?”

Today painted half blue and half crimson, Viyv-pym’s mouth expanded as if she was simultaneously shocked and amused by the notion. “Only rarely. At such times, they become news themselves. No soldier wants injure correspondent. Is bad for career. Soldiers want be interviewed. Good for career. Injured correspondents cannot conduct interviews.”

Made sense, Walker knew. A warrior, or an entire army, would not want to be on the receiving end of the unfavorable press the maiming or killing of a correspondent would bring. Mindful of the ramifications, he pressed her further.

“The battlefield reporting—is it honest? I mean, is it straightforward? No picking and choosing of scenes for propaganda purposes?”

“Oh, no,” she insisted. “Citizens want, citizens need, to see everything. Good and the bad.” She indicated another pair of orange-clad figures moving effortlessly among the combatants. “Communications facilities of Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed share field pickups of both sides. Also others present, reporting back to realms not involved in fighting.”

Once again, the sports analogy reared its bloody head. Was there a special global media feed for all of Niyu? The round-the-clock, “all war all the time” channel? Sadly, he realized such an innovation was also possible on Earth.

The fighting was beginning to wind down. “What happens if the Toroudians win? If they were to overrun and take the fortress?” Given what he had already learned about the conventions of Niyyuuan combat, somehow he did not think such a result would result in widespread rapine and looting.

He was right. “Since Jalar-aad-biidh defends capital city,” she told him, “Kojn-umm would have to formally surrender to Toroud-eed. In such unlikely happenstances, Kojn-umm would probably pay compensation—indemnity—to victors. Possibly also trade concessions. In extreme case, loss of territory.”

“What about a triumphant Toroud-eed taking over your realm completely?”

“It happens, but such a thing is rare in our history.” Watching her watching the fighting, Walker could sense that she would rather have been down on the battlefield swinging a sword instead of watching from the comparative safety of the high battlements nursemaiding an alien chef and his small companion.

The latter looked up from where he had squeezed himself into as small and protected a place as possible. “What’s to keep a few realms from taking over everybody else and controlling the whole planet?”

Viyv-pym peered down at the dog. “If one realm get too big, too powerful, is inevitably attacked by allied forces of many others and so reduced in size and strength.” She spoke with considerable conviction, Walker noted. “That also happens—and is also rare in our history.” One long, willowy arm rose to point over the wall. “Not happen here, this day. See!”

The campaign was beginning to slacken as the forces of Toroud-eed, fought to a stalemate if not actually defeated, began to retreat. Their siege engines having failed to breach Jalar-aad-biidh’s massive outer stone wall and their swarms of attacking soldiers having been repeatedly forced from its ramparts, they started to pull back. Given the ferocity of the fighting he had witnessed, Walker was surprised as he surveyed the field of battle that it was not littered more profusely with dead bodies. Perhaps, he decided, the Niyyuu cultural dichotomy of war allowed for the application of modern medicine to the wounded. He made a mental note to ask Viyv-pym about it later. Meanwhile, he fought to compose suitable congratulations for the general who was now striding toward them.

Saluu-hir-lek’s armor was dented as if he had been run over by a large vehicle, and it was actually cut clear through at one leg. But the general himself appeared to be physically uninjured. His round mouth was expanded to its maximum diameter, while his huge eyes shone with an inner glow. Quadruple tails switched sharply back and forth, and blood stained him from head to toe.

“That should slow them, those effing offspring of Eed!”

Persuaded that the fighting was done with, George rose from where he had been lying. “You mean, they won’t attack again?”

Saluu-hir-lek turned to peer over the ramparts and follow the attackers’ retreat. “Too soon say for certain. Have better idea tomorrow, when scouts make morning report on enemy disposition. Disposition of forces, disposition of mind!” The general was in a very good mood indeed.

An excellent time, Walker felt, to hit him up for support.

“Come!” Lightly dragging a bloodstained finger down Walker’s chest in friendly Niyyuuan fashion, Saluu-hir-lek bade his visitor accompany him. “I must clean up for presentation tonight. Then we talk more.” From within the lightweight but sturdy helmet, vast yellow-gold eyes regarded the human. “Maybe I can persuade you cook for me and my staff.”

“Kind of short notice, but it might be arranged,” a thoughtful Walker told him. “When someone is in a position to provide a special service to a friend, it’s always nice to be able to help out.”

Any secondary meaning inherent in Walker’s response flashed right past the general. Perhaps their respective translators had mangled the verbalization. But from what he had seen of Saluu-hir-lek, Walker was sure the general would remember it.

ornament

There wasn’t much to work with. While the great fortress of Jalar-aad-biidh was amply stocked for war and for the fulfillment of the basic needs of its defenders, there was a decided dearth of advanced, nonessential material. Even its commanding officer had limited access to luxury goods. Walker was relieved to discover that the food preparation equipment, like the medical facilities, was apparently exempt from the cultural restrictions that were placed on any modern technology related to combat requirements.

In concise terms, what that meant was that he had the apparatus with which to exercise his gastronomic skills. Though raw material was lacking, he took its absence as a challenge. The eventual results showed off his innate creativity and talent in ways that swapping raw rubber futures on the Chicago Exchange could not have come close to duplicating.

Certainly Saluu-hir-lek and his staff were more than pleased, if not outright overwhelmed. Following the dramatic culinary presentation and the expansive meal that was its outcome, the general once again invited George and Walker outside. This time they found themselves higher up than before. To the right, the private balcony overlooked the distant, rambling metropolis of Ehbahr, Kojn-umm’s wholly contemporary capital city. Straight ahead, a gradually descending slope glittered with splotches of illumination that marked the location of the bivouac of Toroud-eed’s troops.

“Wonderful meal, simply wonderful!” the general declaimed to the cool, indifferent night. His round mouth was contracted, sphincterlike, around a transparent tube that dispensed measured quantities of tartly flavored alkaloids. While the slowly dissolving powder produced a pleasant taste and mild rush in the Niyyuu, it would have wreaked serious havoc on Walker’s more sensitive digestive system. He had long since learned which local molecular combinations he and George could tolerate and which, harmless though they might be to the natives, man and dog should at all costs avoid. These personal limitations did not hinder his practice of performance gastronomy.

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Resting both arms on the high, solid-metal barrier, he let his gaze wander over the ranked lights below. At a distance, they reminded him of so many stars fallen to Earth. Silent soldiers patrolled the walls of the fortress, alert for any inimical nocturnal intrusion. Music, nearly as harsh as Niyyuuan speech, scratched and clawed its way up from the ancient courtyard below. The smaller of Niyu’s two moons, irregular of shape but bright of albedo, hung high in the night sky.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying,” he continued, “that while my friends and I have enjoyed the time we’ve spent here on your world, like anyone else cut off and long away from their home, we’re anxious to be on our way.” Nearby and unable to see over the railing, George sniffed meaningfully.

“That only natural,” the general responded encouragingly.

“The problem is that we don’t have any idea which way, out of an infinity of possible ways, to go from here, and the Kojn-umm government and its allies won’t send a ship outward on our behalf until we can choose a reasonable course.”

“Also natural, I imagine.” Saluu-hir-lek was studying the now-silent field of battle. Distant lights were reflected in his wide eyes.

“It would be helpful,” Walker went on, “if someone, someone in a position of real power, could use their influence to persuade the government to initiate on our behalf a real, serious search of the surrounding starfield, with an eye toward locating our homeworlds. We certainly aren’t in a position to do it. We’ve filed repeated requests, only to be told to be patient and that the appropriate resources are being employed on our behalf. But this has been going on for some time now, and so far we’ve heard nothing.”

Saluu-hir-lek did not look at him. That was not encouraging. “I faintly aware of yous’ situation. Such searches, I understand, can take long time. Sometimes very long time.”

“We understand that.” Walker tried not to sound impatient. “It’s just that we’ve heard nothing at all. Possibly if someone like yourself looked into the matter, or used their influence, the relevant government agencies might be more . . . forthcoming.”

Their round, muscular mouths did not allow the Niyyuu to smile. Instead, Saluu-hir-lek tried to offer a sympathetic apologia by means of gestures. “Cannot do. Too much responsibility already, being charged with traditionally defend all of Kojn-umm. I sorry, but can do nothing for you.” His tone brightened. “I thank yous for staying night. Perhaps following sunbreak, can prepare small morning meal?”

With a heavy sigh, Walker turned away. “Yes, of course I’ll conjure breakfast.”

“A strange, untranslatable term. Understanding is clear, though. I thank you in advance.” He started toward the open portal behind them. “Now is retire time. Soldier needs good sleep as much as sharp sword. Maybe cook as well.”

“Whatever.” The dog had his head down as he moved to follow the general. The private nocturnal meeting had not produced the results he and Walker had hoped for.

“Is okay yous share habitation? Not much free-spare space in fortress.”

Walker glanced down at the dog and mustered a sliver of a smile. “We’ll manage. George and I have shared a lot more than a room together.”

Tonight they would also, he reflected as he followed their host, share their disappointment.

Their quarters were more comfortable than either had expected, equipped with many of the comforts of modern Niyyuuan technology. As usual, though soft and long enough, the customary sleeping platform was too narrow for Walker to sleep easily on it lest he roll over in the middle of the night and tumble off. With a second full-size platform at his disposal, George had a much easier time of it—once Walker helped his small friend up onto the high bed.

“Well, when considered as a summit in search of local allies, that sucked big-time.” Pacing out a circle atop the platform, George promptly flumped himself down in the middle of the aerogel padding.

Boosting himself up onto the edge of his own platform, Walker regarded his friend glumly. “The general was nice enough, maybe even understanding, but that was as far as it went.”

George sniffed derisively. “Me, I don’t even think it went that far. I think he was being disingenuous the whole time.” Rising, the aggravated dog walked to the edge of the platform. “Look, this Saluu-hir-lek is the top military guy in all Kojn-umm. It’s crazy to think that he’s not in on top-level policy decisions. And I have to believe that the employment and disposition of four aliens at government expense counts as a top-level policy decision.”

Walker deliberated. “Then you think he’s in on this “go slow in helping us to return home” policy?”

“Of course he is.” George let out a short, sharp growl. “Just like all the other upper-level local Niyyuu. It’s pretty clear to me from the way he reacted to your low-key request that he’s not going to help us any more than any of the other government officials we’ve talked to over the past couple of months.” The dog eyed his friend sagely. “You’re too good at your new vocation, Marc. I’ve been paying attention, listening to conversations. That’s one benefit to being my size. Bigger folk start to overlook your presence. Not only do the Niyyuu like your cooking presentations, they’re basking in the envy of their neighbors. Nobody else has a human chef. Not to mention a chatty canine, a verse-spouting Tuuqalian, and an encyclopedic, if smart-mouthed, K’eremu. You can be sure of it: they’re going to keep us marooned here as long as they can.” Returning to the center of the platform, he repeated the careful “pacing in a circle” ritual before lying down once more.

“Right now, ‘as long as they can’ is looking more and more like forever.”

A thoughtful Walker studied the communications ovoid that stood to the left of his sleeping platform. At a command, it could provide all manner of services and entertainment. But in accordance with Niyyuuan tradition, it did not permit reciprocal contact with the outside world. That had to be done by courier, or mirror signals, or some similar old-fashioned method that did not contravene the strict laws governing traditional Niyyuuan combat. Like the rest of the fortress, their sleeping quarters were an eclectic mix of the antiquated and the completely up-to-date.

While their long journey from Seremathenn to Niyu had hopefully brought them closer to home, their voyaging had subsequently stalled due to the lack of cooperation on the part of the Niyyuu of Kojn-umm. If George was right, and Walker saw little reason to dispute the dog’s assertions, an official if unspoken policy of benign neglect had landed permanently on their repeated requests for help in locating their homeworlds, or even ascertaining in which direction they might lie. In some ways, outright opposition to their requests would have been simpler to deal with. But facile prevarication was a tougher opponent: slippery and hard to pin down.

Take the attitude of their current host. There were moments that suggested Saluu-hir-lek empathized with their situation. He simply wouldn’t do anything to help them, would not go against governmental dictates. How could Walker and his friends demand action when individuals like the general and his civilian counterparts insisted they were doing their best?

There was the hope that Sobj-oes, the senior scientist who had confronted him late one evening, would eventually come forth with some useful information. But suppose she did? he told himself. Then what? Knowing where Earth—or Tuuqalia, or K’erem—might lie in relation to Niyu would bring the respective orphans of those three worlds closer to home only emotionally.

“We need to be more proactive in our cause.”

“What?” Half-asleep, George looked up at his friend.

“We need to stop asking for help and do more to help ourselves.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” The dog’s head slumped back down onto his paws. “When you’re ready to hijack a Niyyuuan ship and its crew, let me know. Sometimes—sometimes I wish we’d recognized reality and stayed on Seremathenn. Or I wish I had.”

Walker had been frustrated. Now he was angry. Slipping off the platform, he strode over to the other, grabbed the startled dog by his forepaws, and lifted him up until he was standing on his hind legs. It brought them nearer to eye level.

“Now you listen to me! We didn’t fight our way out of Vilenjji captivity to end up stuck on Niyu or Seremathenn or any other alien world. Neither did Sque or Braouk. We’re going to get home, all of us!”

“Let go of me, or I’ll bite the crap out of your fingers,” George warned him.

Walker let the dog drop back down onto all fours. “We need to stick together and to focus on one thing, George—and it’s not making ourselves as comfortable as possible in an alien environment. We need to concentrate on ways of getting home.”

“Swell.” Unable to stay angry at anything for very long, the dog had lain back down and was licking his forepaws where the human had gripped them. “First we have to find it.”

“We will. Somehow, someway, whether the Niyyuu help us or not, we will. And once we’ve done that, we’ll damn sure figure out a way to get there!”

“A positive attitude,” the dog mumbled sleepily. “That’s useful. Since you find Saluu-hir-lek so sympathetic, maybe you can get him to conquer a few neighboring realms for us. Then you can order their scientific communities to do what we want.”

“Wouldn’t work even if we could,” a more subdued Walker murmured. “Remember what we were told? That if any one realm becomes too powerful, the others gang up on it to put it back in its place?”

George yawned. “Very civilized. Nothing like trading commodities, I bet.”

“No,” Walker agreed. “This is nothing like that. Nothing at all.”

He returned to his sleeping platform and directed the room to darken. But unlike the dog, he did not immediately fall asleep. In fact, he did not fall asleep for some time. His thoughts would not let him. Like the steaming, thick java brewed by his favorite coffee shop on the corner of the office tower back home where he used to work, they were percolating.