The Candle of Distant Earth (16 page)

Ignorant as he was of Tuuqalian society, he could hardly be blamed for being so sanguine. Or so wrong.

From orbit, Tuuqalia was an attractive oxygen-infused world. Though slightly larger than Earth, less area was covered by ocean and sea. There were mountains, and modest ice caps, but the dominating features were endless stretches of flat plains fractured by enormous meandering rivers. Unlike Hyff, whose population was evenly dispersed among thousands of towns and small cities, Tuuqalia boasted some extensive urban concentrations. While serving as centers of manufacturing and culture, however, they were not home to the majority of citizens.

Long centuries of the population management that had allowed Tuuqalian society to thrive without having to deal with the threat of overpopulation had also allowed the majority of its people to spread out across its endless plains. Advanced technology made work from a distance possible. Even more than the villatic Hyfft, the inhabitants of Tuuqalia favored a life in the countryside. This was no surprise to Walker and his friends. More hours than they cared to remember had been spent listening to Braouk natter on about the joys of roving his homeworld's vast open spaces, and how he could not wait to indulge once again in that wandering that was so dear to every Tuuqalian's heart. It was understandable, Walker knew. A species as individually outsized as Braouk's needed plenty of room in which to roam.

Well, their hulking friend wouldn't have to wait much longer to enjoy himself in that regard. As soon as they received proper clearance, they would all be able to stand once more on the solid surface of a habitable world, real earth under their feet and open sky above their heads. The difference was that this time, both earth and sky would belong to one of their own. After all they had been through together, it was still difficult to come to grips with the fact that one of them had actually made it home.

Which made the continuing delay in the granting of the necessary clearance all the more puzzling. Almost as puzzling as Braouk's seeming avoidance not only of Walker, but of George and Sque as well—though Sque was just as content to be ignored as not.

Walker wasn't. The same could be said not only for his canine companion, but for everyone else on board the
Jhevn-Bha.
Not to mention the Iollth, whose inherent limited capacity for tolerance and understanding threatened to destabilize an increasingly ambiguous situation. Despite being heavily outgunned by the fleet of massive Tuuqalian vessels that continued to shadow the arrivals while traveling toward their homeworld, Ki-ru-vad's prickly caste of characters threatened to commence landings without permission and dare the locals to react belligerently. The longer they sat in orbit without that permission, the edgier became the Iollth in particular.

Walker could hardly blame them. He wanted down as much as anyone, especially when the citizens of the world below were presumed to be friendly and welcoming. But if that was the case, then why the excessive delay?

At the risk of irritating his friend, he finally felt compelled to directly confront the only Tuuqalian in their midst.

“What's behind the continuing delay in granting us permission to visit, Braouk?” Though he tried to make his manner as forceful as possible, he knew there was no way a hundred humans could intimidate a Tuuqalian.

In spite of that reality Braouk's reaction smacked, if not of intimidation, at least of embarrassment. All four upper tentacles drew in close around his mouth while both eyestalks contracted until the Tuuqalian's eyes were flush against opposite sides of his trunk-like body. In that pose, he looked not only smaller, but far less alien—such a description, Walker knew, being a highly relative term.

“Yeah, what's the holdup?” George demanded to know from somewhere in the vicinity of Walker's knees. “We've had better receptions on worlds where all of us were strangers.” The dog made a rude noise. “You offend somebody important before the Vilenjji snatched you?”

Powerful tentacles fluttered in four different directions. To anyone not familiar with the three-meter-tall Braouk, the effect would have been terrifying. Walker and George were merely surprised. Despite all the time they had spent in the Tuuqalian's company, this was a gesture they had not seen before. They did not know it, but their hulking friend was expressing extreme discomfiture.

“Seeking have I, a way to explain, this circumstance.” Eyestalks contracted even tighter into the Tuuqalian's sides, the bulging orbs at their tips disappearing partway into matching recesses in his yellow-green, bristle-covered flanks. “It has been tormenting me even before we entered the heliosphere of Tuuq.”

“Even before…” Walker's voice faded briefly as he digested the implication. Though no match in size for the basketball-sized orbs of the creature before them, his own eyes widened slightly. “You knew this was going to happen! How long have you known, Braouk?”

“And not told us,” George added in a huff, using a hind leg to scratch at one ear.

“Since the day we left Seremathenn with thoughts of returning to our homes,” the Tuuqalian rumbled apologetically. Seeking to soothe his companions' injured feelings, he added hastily, “No reason needed, to inform you then, of details. A requirement is demanded of all who wish to visit Tuuqalia. None are being singled out here; not inhabitants of Earth, or of Niyu, or of Ioll.” Tentacles extended toward them, a reach for understanding. “Though desperate-dying, to touch my home, I remain. It is why I have stayed with you since our arrival, knowing that I could explain this aspect of my kind's culture better than any who might come to greet you.”

“Some greeting.” George stopped scratching and flomped disgustedly down onto the deck.

“I see that I cannot delay any longer, no matter the cultural repercussions that may arise.”

Walker had been listening intently. He had also been thinking. “Wait a minute. What ‘requirement'? What ‘cultural repercussions'? Are you saying that unless we fulfill some kind of demand, your people won't let us make touchdown on Tuuqalia?”

One eye, the left one, extended slightly on its stalk, reaching toward him. In the center of the massive body, the fluttering central nostril twitched in agitation. “Not only will you not be allowed to touch down if you do not comply, no Tuuqalian scientist will lift a tentacle tip to help you on your way.”

That implied threat was more than discourteous, Walker realized. It represented, potentially, the end of their journey. Without additional assistance from the Tuuqalia, he and George and Sque would have no new astronomical leads to follow. They had only managed to find Tuuqalia with the aid of the Hyfft. Without fresh insight from inhabitants of this part of the galactic arm, they would be left to search hundreds of star systems essentially at random—a task that was more than daunting. How long he could rely on the Niyyuu, much less the volatile Iollth, to continue such voyaging on behalf of him and his friends was an imponderable whose limits he devoutly wished not to have to test. Having a specific stellar destination in mind might make all the difference between being able to continue their search and its complete abandonment.

For that, they needed the help of another sophisticated star-traversing species like the Tuuqalia. And to gain that, they had to fulfill some as yet unexpressed requirement.

He took a deep breath, looked down at George, who shrugged resignedly, and put the question.

“Delaying this won't make implementation any easier, Braouk. What does this requirement consist of? What do George and I have to do to satisfy the appropriate authorities among your people that we're deserving of their hospitality and their help?”

The ton of Tuuqalian hesitated. Despite his size, strength, and daunting appearance, the huge alien looked for all the world like a self-conscious child who had just been caught raiding the cookie jar.

“You have to, to the authority's satisfaction, prove yourselves.”

Though George had long ago moved beyond easy intimidation, he was ever suspicious. “Prove ourselves? How? Some kind of contest? Not wrestling, I hope. If that's the case, I'm out.” He raised a forepaw. “No opposable thumb. Sorry, Marc.”

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” a suddenly concerned Walker responded. Addressing himself once more to their reluctant companion, he pushed the question. “Aside from the fact that everyone on these ships wants—no, needs—to feel solid ground under their feet again, we have to have the help and assistance of your people's astronomers. So—what is it that we have to do? To ‘prove' ourselves?”

Emboldened by his friends' evident willingness to comply, Braouk was moved to explain. Time had run out anyway. The authorities had granted him more than enough time to put the demand diplomatically.

“The K'eremu are not the only species capable of unsociable behavior. My kind, too, have their pride. They do not accept, far less agree to assist, just any self-declared civilized sentients who come calling. Those who do so must demonstrate beyond doubt that they are capable of more than the construction of interstellar ships and advanced technologies. They must show that they are civilized. And not just civilized. They must demonstrate (Walker's implanted Vilenjji translator struggled with what was unusually complex and Tuuqalian-specific terminology) sensitivity.”

Walker was taken aback. It was not what he expected. But whatever this required proof consisted of, he told himself, it had to be more amenable than wrestling.

“I'm sensitive.” George rolled onto his back, all four feet in the air, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. “See?”

Having at last put the requirement into words, Braouk was visibly as well as verbally more relaxed. “More than physical submission is required. Much more. It has always been so among my people. The Tuuqalia grant their friendship without reservation, but not easily. Furthermore, one cannot satisfy for all. A representative of each species wishing the amity and assistance of the Tuuqalia must reassure individually.” Both eyes were once more fully extended on their flexible stalks. One focused on Walker, the other on George.

“You, Marcus Walker, must act on behalf of not just yourself, but all your kind. And you for yours, George.” The eyes retracted slightly, glistening. “Sequi'aranaqua'na'senemu for the K'eremu. Perhaps Gerlla-hyn, or possibly Sobj-oes, for the Niyyuu, and someone also for the Iollth. One of each.”

One time, Walker reminisced, he had been called into the office of the vice president for operations of the firm for which he worked. On arriving, he had been rattled to find not just Steve Holmes, the officer, there, but representatives of several of the firm's major clients. Asked to give his opinion on half a dozen current world situations as they related directly to the firm's business, he'd been subjected to half an hour of intense questioning. Even though no one said so later, he was sure his ability to survive such intense interrogation on such short notice had led directly to his last promotion.

Now he found himself in a similar situation. Only this time, much more than an increase in salary and an office with a slightly better view of the building across the street was at stake. How not only he but how George and Sque and others performed would likely decide whether he would have any chance of ever seeing that office again.

Sque's frequent sardonic comments to the contrary notwithstanding, he felt reasonably confident he could prove that he was civilized. But—how to prove that he, and by inference humankind, was sensitive?

On later reflection, he realized he should have guessed.

“Now that I have finally been able to say these things to your faces,” Braouk was telling them, “I will make the necessary arrangements. One each will be conveyed to the surface. One each to represent their own species. One each to prove they are fit to touch Tuuqalian soil.” Eyes drew back and tentacles stiffened. “There is no way around this requirement.”

“And if we blow it?” George asked.

Both orbs swiveled in the dog's direction. “Then you will have to go on your way, wherever that may be, without impacting Tuuqalian society, and without the aid of its eminent scientists. Companions though we are, companions in adversity though we have been, there will be nothing more I can do for you.”

Tuuqalian first, friend second, Walker reflected. Would it have been any different had their situations been reversed? What would wary humans have demanded of someone like Braouk to prove that he was as civilized as they? Or as sensitive?

“I cannot explain, to newcomers in advance, the requirement.” Their oversized friend was apologetic but unrelenting. “You will be informed of the details at a suitable time, subsequent to your arrival.”

“That doesn't seem very fair,” George protested, having regained his feet. “How can we get ready to comply with a requirement when we don't know what it is?”

Having lumbered forward, Braouk now gently rested the end of one tentacle on George's shoulders. The flexible limb was quite capable of reducing the dog's entire skeleton to splinters.

“Your ability to extemporize will comprise a significant portion of the proof,” the Tuuqalian explained unhelpfully. “One way the authority will be able to judge both your degree of civilization and species sensitivity will be by observing your reaction to their demand.”

“Thanks,” the dog replied dryly as the tentacle tip stroked his back, ruffling his fur. “I feel so much better now. Why me?” he muttered under his breath. “Why not a mastiff, or a poodle?” He cast a wan look on his human. “All I want is a bone and a warm bed.”

Walker's lips tightened. “We're stuck with this, George. Each of us gets to stand up not just for ourselves but for our entire species. As for me,” he drawled, “I'd rather be in Philadelphia.”

There was no one present to recognize or understand the reference, but it lightened his mood a little to say it anyway.