Where you come from?” the tall, slender, razor-voiced official inquired.
The silvery metallic eyes of the K’eremu gazed out at the assembled, seated governmental elite of Kojn-umm. Like most uncivilized beings, they chose to gather together to eat. Well, she could do nothing about that. Anymore than she could do anything about the mortifying circumstances in which she presently found herself. Thrown together with a primitive if well-meaning biped, his smaller and slightly more developed shaggy companion, and a monstrous contradiction of a representative of another unknown world who was given to speaking in morose poeticisms, she was forced to rely on them for help in getting home. There being some doubt that even someone as gifted as herself would be able to accomplish that feat on her own, she had resigned herself to an inescapable sequence of successive demeanings—such as the one she was being compelled to suffer presently.
As the simple but earnest human Walker had warned her, “Please, please, try and be polite to these people tonight, Sque. We’ve got to have their help if we’re going to get any closer to home than Niyu.”
So she adjusted her own flashy accoutrements, eyed the lean, exceedingly lavishly dressed male Niyyuu, and replied, “My world, whose comforting clouds and dampness and isolation I long for more and more each day, is called K’erem.” Two tendrils rose. “It lies some distance farther out in the swarm of stars that is, hopefully, this galactic arm. My companions and I have come to Niyu in the hope that it has brought us nearer K’erem and their own homeworlds. Whether that is the case we do not yet know. In the meantime, we are reliant upon your good nature and hospitality, twin traits that are the hallmark of the most basic civilization.”
It was a longer reply than the questioner had expected, but it appeared to satisfy him. The other eminent Niyyuu in the room seemed equally content with the K’eremu’s response, though one or two bridled slightly at the implication their civilization might somehow be classified as “basic.”
Still, Walker decided as he and his Niyyuuan assistants continued to prepare the equipment and ingredients for his effort, for Sque the reply could be counted as exceedingly diplomatic. He tensed slightly when he heard someone among the assembled follow the first question with, “I was told you supposedly very smart species. Do something to impress us with you intelligence.”
A silence followed. George muttered, “Uh-oh—I’d better get out there and start charming the locals,” and rushed out to mix with the crowd of Niyyuuan notables. Off to one side, Braouk prepared to lumber forward and launch into his chosen recitation for the evening, a personally abridged version of The Heroic Narrative of Darak-Dun the Third and how he crossed the Jaquarianak Range alone in the dead of winter, over which the Tuuqalian had been laboring for the past several days.
But despite his efforts, he wasn’t fast enough to override Sque’s reply.
“Certainly.” The K’eremu shifted her tendrils. “I will now discourse to you upon the relative differences in cognitive aptitude between your species and mine.”
Omigod, Walker shouted silently. He was preparing to instruct Braouk to physically remove Sque from her location in front of the assembled when the K’eremu began to speak. Listening to her, some of the tension eased out of him.
“It should be clear to even the most casual observer that the tripartite conflation of neuronic axes relate oblately to the peripheral adjudication of hierarchical logic functions in any discussion. We may therefore be safe in assuming that . . .”
Walker had to assume that his implanted translator was functioning properly. If that was the case, then the K’eremu’s rambling reply ought to be equally incomprehensible to the attendant Niyyuu. Glancing surreptitiously out at the assembled, he was able despite his unfamiliarity with local expressions to deduce that this was indeed the case. Initially mystified by the K’eremu’s response, they quickly returned to more mundane pursuits such as chatting among themselves and sampling the gastronomic treats whose creation Walker had supervised earlier with his staff. While “hors d’oeuvres” had no direct counterpart in the Niyyuuan lexicon, the notion of eating small bits of some food before the rest was straightforward enough.
Sque did not so much conclude her tortuous response as find herself shunted aside by the massive Braouk. Incomprehensibility shaded into uncomplicated recitation as the Tuuqalian launched into his half-spoken, half-sung version of yet another ancient fable of his people. Whatever half-perceivable insults the K’eremu might have delivered were subsumed in the giant’s performance.
Upon concluding her own impenetrable discourse, Sque turned to amble past the still-stressed Walker. “That ought to put them in their place,” she murmured contentedly. “It is a mark of their own intelligence that no objection was raised to my extensive stating of the obvious.” A bubble of satisfaction emerged from the end of her speaking tube.
“Yes, you sure showed them,” Walker assured her, forbearing from pointing out that even with the aid of their own translators it was likely that not one Niyyuu on the receiving end of the K’eremu’s intricate dissertation had been able to understand more than a word or two of what she had said.
Then it was time for him to go to work. Time to justify the faith Viyv-pym had placed in him and to cement the presence of himself and his friends on this first stepping-stone toward home. As his Niyyuuan assistants moved swiftly to fine-tune equipment, he took a deep breath and stepped out into public view. Wide, penetrating eyes turned to look at him as Braouk concluded the last of his entertaining but interminable recitation with a wave of all four upper tentacles. Surely, Walker mused, this audience could not be any more difficult to please than the many he had entertained on more sophisticated Seremathenn. The proof, as always, would be in how they responded to the products of his labor.
Cooking, he had already decided, was harder than brokering commodities futures, but ultimately far more satisfying.
He needn’t have worried. From the time he activated and took control of the stabilizers and manipulators, the previously talkative and occasionally downright rude audience followed his every move with rapt attention.
Who would not? Who would have expected the mass of carefully prepped vegetative and protein components to align themselves not with the cooking apparatus, but in the form of an advancing army, larger ingredients in the rear, smaller scattered to front and sides like so many edible scouts? Who would have expected the various heating and toasting and mixing devices to stack themselves not in a neat, traditional horizontal line, but vertically in the shape of a toy fortress? And with cookery and menu constituents thus confronting one another, like a kid playing with a box of toy soldiers, Walker began to bring them together.
Soulless but determined vegetables assaulted waiting preparation bins, and were consumed. Protein components flung themselves through the air, to be captured by waiting cylinders. Responding only to Walker’s directions, the persevering provisions found themselves diced, sliced, toasted, flash fried, waved, sautéed, puréed, and flambéed. Disdaining decorum several minutes into the presentation, someone among the spectators blurted aloud.
“It the fortress! The alien is replaying the battle of Jalar-aad-biidh—with food!”
The swelling tide of verbal appreciation rang in Walker’s ears as he fought to concentrate on the work at hand. Initially at a loss as to how to make the presentation of his gastronomic creations properly entertaining, he had hit on the idea of arranging his mobile cooking equipment in the shape of the ancient fortress that guarded the traditional northern approaches to Kojn-umm, and then “attacking” it with the ingredients he had chosen for the evening’s meal. At least he no longer had to worry if anyone present would realize what he was doing. Thanks to one enthusiastic spectator, everyone was now aware.
The dark tempest that swept over and brought the edible performance to a dramatic close was the capper, the punch line, to his presentation. The fact that it was composed of a swirling, raging, miniature storm of carefully selected local spices provoked an outbreak of hooting—the Niyyuuan equivalent, he supposed, of wild applause.
Following the conclusion of his presentation, portions of the finished dishes were distributed by live Niyyuu attendants operating under Walker’s instructions. He relaxed only when it became clear that the guests appreciated the taste of his food as much as they had its highly visual and dramatic preparation. There were compliments all around. And when the meal began to draw to a close, he found himself swept up in a whirl of dignitaries, all eager to thank him by stroking his head and upper body. The Niyyuu, he already knew, were a very touchy-feely folk. Fortunately, their complimentary and curious caresses weighed considerably less on his person than, say, Braouk’s did, so he did not mind.
Viyv-pym also came up to him to praise his effort. Her golden eyes were even more luminous than usual, he decided. The single piece of material she wore draped her like chiffon that had been used to strain flecks of gold from a running stream. Yet again he had to remind himself that, superficial aesthetics notwithstanding, it was an alien body that stood before him.
“Tonight yous all justify my decision bring you Niyu.” Touching the side of his face, the tips of the two long fingers of her right hand slid down to his shoulder, then his chest, before retracing their route and withdrawing. “Already this night I am commended many times for making that choice. Result is very good for me. Also very good for you.” Frilled head twisting around on its long, slender neck, she indicated the knot of figures that had surrounded Kinuvu-dih-vrojj, the premier of Kojn-umm. Saluu-hir-lek, the general officer who had been in charge of the defense of Jalar-aad-biidh, was there as well. Insofar as Walker could interpret Niyyuuan expressions from a distance, those of the two important officials appeared animated and content.
Then he saw that they were looking downward instead of at one another, much less at him. Searching, Walker located the object of their delighted attention. Between them, a small shaggy dog was standing on its hind legs, dancing in a circle while pawing the air, tongue lolling.
George didn’t need complex equipment or special skills to amuse and entertain, a knowing Walker reflected. Not that he minded. There were ample laurels to share this night. Abruptly, a number of insistent dinner guests crowded close around him, anxious to meet and converse with this alien master of gastronomy, and he lost sight of his small friend completely.
Off to one side, Braouk lowered a single tentacle and effortlessly lifted the much smaller Sque up to a level where she could see over the heads of the milling after-dinner crowd. The K’eremu inspected the contented throng with typical condescension.
“Look at them all. A supposedly advanced species making all this fuss over something as simple as a meal.”
Braouk leaped to Walker’s defense. “It not simple, great skill was involved, in preparation.”
“Of a basal physical sort, yes, I suppose. Still, in the final analysis, the result was only nourishment. Our mutual bipedal friend brought forth a meal, not a small sun. However, I do expect his performance will increase our standing among our hosts. That is a certainly good thing, to be desired. Contrarily, it will also increase our standing among our hosts. That is not necessarily a good thing.”
Braouk’s eyestalks inclined toward the K’eremu, so that one globular orb hovered on either side of her. She was indifferent to the stereo stare. “You say the same thing twice but assign a different conclusion each time. I do not understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” the K’eremu agreed unhelpfully. “In the course of our enforced cohabitation, I have learned that subtle reflection is not a trait characteristic of your species. You are not to be blamed for this, naturally.”
A deep rumble rose from the depths of the massive Tuuqalian. “Am I to be blamed if I throw you against the opposite wall?”
“I would stick,” she responded, waving several tendrils. “To elaborate on what I said: It is good that friend Walker’s skills are appreciated by our hosts. But I worry that he is perhaps too accomplished. It might be better if subsequent explorations into the realm of Niyyuuan food preparation are less awe-inspiring, lest he be declared a national treasure or some similar foolishness, and denied the opportunity to leave.”
“Ah. I understand now.” Braouk’s eyes shifted, literally, away from the K’eremu he was supporting. Peering over the top of the crowd, the Tuuqalian found the human. Walker was still surrounded by admiring Niyyuu. Surely the K’eremu was only being her usual pessimistic self. Surely the Niyyuu would not become so attached to the human Walker’s work that they would refuse to let him go.
Did that matter? he found himself wondering. Suppose he and Sque and the quadruped George were given the chance to move on, nearer their homeworlds, but Walker was forced to remain behind? In such circumstances, what would he do? He knew what Sque would do. Of George he was not so certain. He was even less sure of himself. The resulting potential moral dilemma pained his thoughts.
No reason for that, he told himself, since it did not yet exist. Worry about it if and when it presented itself. Meanwhile, best to participate in the evening, share in the contentment of their hosts, and leave pessimistic brooding to the small skeptic with the many limbs.
Yet as the days stretched into ten-days, and the ten-days into not one but several multiples, the Tuuqalian found himself reflecting more and more on what the anxious Sque had told him that night.
It was not as if their time passed in misery or boredom. Just as there had been on Seremathenn, there was much to see, do, and learn on Niyu, albeit on a less overawing level of sophistication. But the longer they remained, and the more familiar they became with the sometimes seemingly contradictory but rarely dull culture of the Niyyuu, the farther into the galactic distances the dream of returning to the fields and forests and cities of Tuuqalia seemed to recede.
One morning when feeling particularly lonely he confronted the human directly with his concerns.
Walker was alone at his console, verbally organizing and arranging the components of a custom presentation that had been ordered by a private group centered in Ehbahr. The fact that, largely through his skill and expertise, he and his friends were no longer in any way reliant on the charity of the government of Kojn-umm was a source of considerable pride to him. George was sleeping nearby, curled up on a cushion. While it was not animate in the manner of the custom-made Seremathenn rug the dog had brought with him, its semiorganic contents did rise and fall as well as change temperature automatically according to the needs of his body. Eying the small quadruped, Braouk envied it. George needed very little to satisfy him.
Perhaps, the Tuuqalian thought, if only I did not have, as do so many of my kind, the soul of an artist. He could not deny, nor did he ever try to, that like many of his people he was inclined to melancholic brooding.
Nevertheless, despite his characteristic glumness, he did his best not to inflict it on the human, who as Sque frequently pointed out, was subject to wildly vacillating and unpredictable bouts of emotion. Having something of value to contribute to their efforts to return home, Braouk had observed, had noticeably improved the human’s disposition.
“I offer greetings, on this fine midday, my friend.”
Walker nearly jumped out of the narrow Niyyuuan chair, whose rail-thin support he had improved by adding a wide cushion of his own design. “Dammit, Braouk! Do you have to sneak up on people like that?” He eased himself back onto his seat. “I’m always amazed that someone your size can move around with so little noise. I’m afraid you’re going to amaze me once too often.”
“Apologies.” Eyestalks inclining down and forward, one orb peered over each of the human’s shoulders. “How go the preparations for your next culinary extravaganza?”
“Pretty good. There are some new fresh fruits just arrived from Dmeruu-eeb, the realm that borders Kojn-umm to the south, and I’m thinking of doing something tropical and sunshiny with them.”
Braouk was not certain precisely what the human’s explanation signified, but it did not matter. His interest of the moment was not on food. “Marc, I am no less beholden to you for the merit your skills have gained for us among our hosts the Niyyuu than are George or Sque.”
“You’re welcome.” Walker murmured the response without turning away from his intent study of images of food and equipment that floated in the air before him.
“But we have been here for some goodly time now, and we are no closer to continuing on our way homeward than when we arrived.”
That made Walker turn away from his work. Behind him, images of foodstuffs and cooking gear hovered patiently in the air, awaiting his attention.
“That’s not really true, Braouk.” In their time together Walker had learned to focus on one Tuuqalian eye and ignore the other when they were being held far apart, as now. “We’ve secured the goodwill of our hosts and have successfully established ourselves in their society.”
“Our goal though, I must remind you, is leaving. Our aim is to move onward from this place, not to set up a home meadow or become infatuated with the local culture.”
Walker glanced to his left. George had raised his head from his pillow. “The hulk is right, Marc. I’ve been thinking the same thing: that we’re getting a little too comfortable here. Maybe that’s just what our good friends the Niyyuu want.” The dog’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you ought to spend a little more time looking for a way off this ball of dirt instead of drooling over the alien sylph you can’t have anyway.”
Walker stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, George.”
The dog let his head flump back down on the cushion. “Uh-huh. And some of my best friends are cats that spray in my face.”
Braouk’s eyestalks moved uncertainly. “What is George talking about?”
“Nothing,” Walker replied irritably. “He considers himself an expert on the behavior of everyone but himself.”
“Speaking of butts—” the dog began. Walker cut him off.
“I’m doing all that I can, Braouk. Every time I meet with a government official I mention that we’d like to speak to some astronomics specialists. Appointments are being set up, but nothing’s come of them yet. You know how the Niyyuu like their protocol.”
“They like your cooking,” George interjected curtly. “And they don’t want to lose it.”
Walker turned on his friend. “Come on, George. You’re not implying that the government is deliberately keeping us from meeting with those people?”
The dog stood up on the cushion. His tail was not wagging. “You’re right. I’m not implying it. I’m stating it. Think about it, Marc. We’ve been here how long? You and I and Braouk and Sque have initiated how many formal requests? What is there to keep local astronomics experts so busy? It’s not like the stars and nebulae that form the basis of their usual study are going to take a hike any time soon.”
Walker looked away, muttering, “I don’t believe it. The Niyyuu aren’t like that. They’ve been nothing if not helpful and courteous.”
George’s dog-logic was relentless. “Except when it comes to that one thing, that one particular request.” He glanced up at the looming mass of the Tuuqalian. “What about you, Braouk? Don’t you think it’s funny that the one kind of Niyyuuan specialists we can’t seem to make the acquaintance of are involved in astronomy?”
“It does seem odd.” A massive tentacle gently nudged Walker, pushing him back only a step or two. “We are all reasoning beings here, Marcus Walker. Does this avoidance, of one scientific type, seem deliberate?”
“One way to find out.” George growled softly at Walker. “Invite a whole slew of ’em to one of your special presentations. That’ll put your alien she-lollipop and her friends on the spot. They can’t claim every astronautics expert in this part of Niyu is swamped with work or out of the realm at the same time.”
Walker considered. There was nothing wrong with the dog’s idea. And it might settle the argument, one way or the other, once and for all.
“I’ll do it.” He sat back down at his console. “I’ll put the request to Abrid-lon personally.”
George was initially subdued when that official readily agreed to Walker’s request to organize such a meal. The dog further had to eat his words when, one ten-day later, the event actually took place. Prepared for the main scientific society of all Kojn-umm, the event was not overlooked by the avaricious local media, so there could be no claim that researchers and workers in specific specialties failed to be made aware of it.
Among the delighted attendees were more than a dozen specialists in the fields of general astronomy and astronautics. The latter included officers of Niyyuuan starships, prominent among whom were the commander and assistant commander of the very ship that had brought Walker and his friends to Niyu from Seremathenn. Certainly those in attendance were reflective of those Niyyuu with the most wide-ranging knowledge of this corner of the galaxy.
But as George wandered casually through the attentive, seated group of scientists and researchers—Sque being deemed too acerbic and Braouk too intimidating to assure suitably uninhibited responses—he was met by one denial or evasion after another.
“Nobody knows nothing—or will admit to it.” The dog’s disappointment as he reported to his companions following the conclusion of the performance and meal was plain to see.
“Are you certain you put forth the queries properly?” The continuous movement of Sque’s tendrils revealed her agitation.
George eyed her sharply. “I asked them as we rehearsed them. ‘Have you ever had contact with any of the following worlds?’ I’d say, and then name each of ours in turn. The response was always negative. ‘Have you ever had contact with anyone else, of any intelligent species, that might possibly have had contact with any of the three worlds in question?’ Same reaction. ‘Prior to this evening, have any of you ever encountered representatives of any sentient species matching our descriptions, or encountered others who might have done so?’ More of the same. None of them, or at least none of those present here tonight, have ever heard of humans and their Earth, Tuuqalians and their world, K’eremu and K’erem.” He shifted his feet, his tail moving slowly.
“I asked if there might be other, more knowledgeable astronomers or galactic travelers elsewhere on Niyu who might be better informed on such matters. I was told that while the independent realms of Niyu engage in healthy intergovernmental conflict where matters of culture and commerce are concerned, when it comes to dealing with the rest of galactic civilization they act as one. Furthermore, science is as advanced here in Kojn-umm as anywhere on Niyu, as evidenced by the expedition to Seremathenn that brought us here.”
“A reasonable assertion,” the thoughtful Sque declared somberly, “that in lieu of further evidence I see no reason to dispute.”
The dog moved closer to the K’eremu—close enough to reach out with a paw and touch the slightly swelling, slick maroon skin. “That’s not what disturbs me, though. It was the lack of curiosity.” Backing off, he eyed his three companions meaningfully. “You’d think that a bunch of supposedly inquisitive scientific types would be more than casually interested in four previously unencountered intelligences claiming to hail from three utterly unknown worlds. But whenever I found a chance to push the matter with an individual, every one of them without exception seemed more interested in changing the subject, or talking about Marc’s food presentation, or the latest fighting at Jalar-aad-biidh, than in wondering about what part of the galactic arm we might have sprung from.” He cocked his head slightly to one side. “Strikes me as mighty peculiar.”
“Most assuredly unscientific in spirit,” an intrigued Sque readily agreed. “As if those to whom you spoke sought to deliberately avoid pursuing the subject.”
Braouk was openly bewildered. “But why avoid, a subject of interest, to all?”
“Maybe,” George suggested, squinting beneath shaggy brows, “because they were told to.”
The Tuuqalian’s bemusement only deepened. Both eyes, which together were nearly as large as George himself, inclined downward on their stalks to regard the dog. “Are you suggesting, that such avowed ignorance, was deliberate?”
“All I’m saying,” George responded as he turned to leave, “is that for a bunch of sentients whose business it is to ask questions in the pursuit of the furtherance of knowledge, they were a mighty closemouthed bunch.”
“Why wouldn’t they be interested in trying to find out where we all come from?” Walker wondered aloud.
“Maybe,” George added over a shoulder as he trotted away, “because someone is worried that if we find that out, we’ll want to go back there.”
The three companions were left to stare at the dog’s metronomic tail until it vanished out of sight around a corner. It was silent for a long minute before Walker finally spoke up.
“Surely,” he murmured uneasily, “I’m not that good a cook.”
“Novelties,” Sque muttered through her slender, weaving speaking tube. “We are all of us novelties.” Steel-gray eyes regarded him expressively. “Possessed of no intrinsic value, such as precious metals or gems, a novelty’s worth is determined solely by those for whom it has applied value. It may be that your small smelly friend demonstrates true insight. Certainly it cannot be denied that our constant requests have been met with apathy, if not outright unconcern. Tonight’s continuance of that condition suggests nothing less than a deliberate policy.”
Walker shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe that the Niyyuu intend to keep us from leaving here.”
“Nothing is preventing us from leaving here,” Sque pointed out as she too turned to retire to her own quarters. “There is simply no help forthcoming in assisting us in determining which way to go when we do leave. And without direction, there is no point in going. One might as well spin on one’s appendages until dizzy and scuttle off in any random direction. In deep space, that would be suicidal. The withholding of information is not the same as the withholding of a physicality, but the result is the same.”
The departure of the K’eremu left Walker alone with Braouk. After a moment the Tuuqalian too moved to withdraw to his chamber. “It’s worth thinking, about what’s been said, here tonight. Indifference is not hostility—but not friendship, either.”
“What can we do about it?” Walker wondered aloud as he watched the massive Tuuqalian shuffle off toward the exit.
Both eyes curled back on their stalks to look at him. “Why not ask your good friend Viyv-pym?”
Was there a hidden suggestiveness in the Tuuqalian’s question? Nonsense, Walker told himself. It was a good idea. The only trouble was, he had on more than one occasion pressed Viyv-pym about the lack of response to their requests, only to receive evasive, noncommittal answers similar to those received by George tonight. That in itself was suggestive.
And not at all reassuring.
“A fraction of you evening-time, might I have?”
His companions having departed, Walker had remained behind to check and ensure that the last of the equipment that had been cleaned by his assistants had been properly deactivated for storage. Thinking himself alone in the empty Niyyuuan durbar hall, he was surprised to find himself confronting a single female.
She was notably shorter than the average Niyyuuan; no taller than himself, and for one of her kind, verging on stout. Her crest was fully erected and flaring a dark blue—taken together with the constant fluttering of her tails, a sure sign of anxiety. In attire she was, again by Niyyuuan standards, conservative, her body wrap consisting of a single yellow- and white-striped satiny material. But her eyes, like those of all Niyyuu, were large and luminous as those of any lemur, and her voice as raspy as that of a lathe shaping wrought iron.
“I am Sobj-oes. I am senior instructor in distant astronautics and vector navigation not only for Kojn-umm, but a consultant for four other realms as well.” A two-fingered hand moved to touch his shoulder. By now wholly familiar with the intimate form of greeting, he did not flinch.
“You enjoyed the presentation, I take it?” he asked her, not knowing what else to say.
“Very much so’s.” She looked around, high, limber ears working. They were alone. “Yous wish go home.”
Keeping his voice level, he tried not to look or sound anxious, even assuming she could recognize the meaning of such subtle changes in tone or personal appearance. “That would be a valid assumption, as my friend Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu would say. But in order to continue our journey from here, from Niyu, we need the assistance of others. To help point the way. Others such as, perhaps, yourself.”
Her free hand made a gesture he recognized as an encouraging response. “Yous sentient creatures, not all so very different from Niyyuu. Appearance means nothing.” The two fingers of her left hand gently stroked the side of her elongated skull. “What is here is everything.
“I am one of those who was made aware of yous’ request, to try locate your homeworlds. This is very difficult business. Even one arm of galaxy is immensity personified. Thousands upon thousands of star systems.”
“Astronautics are developed on all of our worlds, so my friends and I are aware of that. All we have is hope, and that others might help. That’s all we’ve been asking of the government of Kojn-umm, and the worldwide organizations that link the Niyyuu together on matters such as science. To date, we have had no response.”
Once more his visitor glanced around. With her expansive oculars, it did not require her to turn her head very far to do so. “Yous’ query was passed along. But with accompanying admonition.”
Walker frowned. “What sort of admonition?”
“To conduct search for yous’ homeworlds, in line with yous’ request. But not to displace other work to do so, also not to make priority.”
“I see.” He considered carefully. From his years in the business of commodities trading, Walker was intimately familiar with the subtleties of bureaucratic obfuscation—with the ability to seem to say one thing while really meaning another. “Would you say that your ‘admonition’ might be interpreted to mean an order to go slow in the search for the homeworlds of my friends and I?”
Her right hand lightly touched his chest. “Many interpretations of meaning are possible. That could be one.”
“But why?”
She looked away, embarrassed without having any reason to be. “Yous four all unique individuals. No others like you on Niyu, ever. No others like you on Seremathenn, or anywhere else scientific establishment can determine. Your presence here a special thing for Niyu. Extraspecial for Kojn-umm. Pride involved. Pride and logic frequently mutually exclusive occurrences. Besides, you extraordinary food preparator.”
He nodded slowly, murmuring to himself, “So George was right. The authorities want to keep us here.”
“Not necessarily prevent from leaving,” she corrected him. “More akin to not be overly helpful in assisting departure. Difference is political.”
“But the result is the same,” he muttered. “If the government won’t help us, then we’re stuck here.”
“Not government, no.” Her voice softened from the intensely grating to the merely irritating. “Are one or two sympathetic individuals among my colleagues. Must be careful in such work. All afraid, if displease superiors, of losing official position. Few willing take such risking on behalf of strange aliens.”
He lowered his own voice. “But you will,” he guessed expectantly.
Another gesture he recognized—this one signifying accord. “Is also one other. Famous researcher, much revered by public as well as colleagues. But not untouchable. Must work clandestine, he and I. Have taken what information on yous has been made available by government. In free time, away from official projects, are searching the vastness for transmission samplings of all yous: visuals, language snippets, references by other species not yous but knowing of yous. Maybe, with much lucks, come across something.” She eyed him questioningly. “You can suggest preference in area for searching?”
He mulled her query. His companions had long since departed for their own quarters. Alone with the astronomer, it would have been easy for him to instruct her and her distinguished colleague to limit their searching for signs of human life only, to look first for Earth. The sarcastic Sque and the lumbering Braouk could wait their turn.
But what if K’erem or Tuuqalia lay nearby, within easier detection range of Niyyuuan instruments? Could he deny that access, that chance, to people who had gone through the hell of Vilenjji capture and captivity with him? And they were his friends, even if one had a mouth that sometimes seemed bigger than her whole body and the other tended to bore to distraction when he wasn’t threatening to accidentally crush anything and anyone who happened to come too close to him. As for George, he knew what the dog would say.
But it wasn’t what he chose to say.
“No. No preferences. Whichever of our respective homeworlds whose position you can establish, that will be great. K’erem, Tuuqalia, Earth: locate one and we’ll manage a way to get there. Then we’ll worry about finding the others.”
She indicated her understanding. “I hope we can help yous. Is not right be kept so long and so far from one’s own kind when that gap can be spanned. Of course, certain is, the very good chance in attempting search such an immense area that we will not be able locate any of yous’ homeworlds.”
Extending a hand and keeping his touch as light as possible, he let it stroke her right shoulder in the accepted Niyyuuan manner. “It’s enough that someone is trying to help. That you’re looking.”
She gestured one last time before turning to go. “Niyu not such a bad place. Maybe not Seremathenn, but good air, good food, good people. If search never find anything, yous always have respected life-positions here. Meantimes, keep cheerful.” Lengthening her flowing stride, she left him standing among his equipment, watching her distinctive slight sway as she exited the room.
She was right. Despite the constant undercurrent of devious political and cultural machinations, Niyu offered him and his friends a comfortable life and lifestyle.
But no matter how one sliced it, it was a long, long way from Chicago.