The Candle of Distant Earth (26 page)

“Speak,” snapped the larger of the two females, whose name (greatly shortened like Sque's for the convenience of inarticulate alien visitors) was Alet. “My time passes, and I can think of at least a hundred things that would be better done with it.”

Walker looked down at George; George promptly settled his belly down on the shimmering bronzed floor and crossed his front legs. Walker looked at Braouk; the Tuuqalian giant squatted down on his four under-limbs, and Walker realized that yet again it was being left to him to make their case. Clearing his throat, which caused the male member of the impatiently waiting trio to wince visibly, he took a step forward. After a moment's thought he crouched down, the better to put himself eye level to eye level with the three already visibly indifferent K'eremu.

“I am—” he began. It was as far as he was allowed to get before he was brusquely interrupted by the female called Mhez.

“We know who you are. We know all there is to know about you that is knowable by K'eremu.” A pair of appendages waved briskly. “I am of the personal opinion that is more than enough. We know where you came from, how you came to be here, and what you want. Your request has already been denied.” A couple of desultory bubbles wandered aloft from the end of her speaking tube. “Our astronomers have a higher calling, and better things to do, than waste their time seeking the location of remote worlds inhabited by boorish primitives.”

George sprang to his feet, only to visibly control himself in response to a cautionary wave from Walker. “We're aware of your opinion of us.”

“Do you dispute it?” challenged the male, whose abridged name was Rehj.

“I think you underestimate us.” Walker composed his reply carefully. He was acutely conscious of the fragile nature of the confrontation, and that the trio of scarcely attentive K'eremu might decide at any moment to bring it to an abrupt and unproductive end. “For one thing, as our friend and companion Sque can attest, George and I are intelligent enough to recognize the innate and unarguable superiority of the K'eremu.” Behind him, a rude canine noise sounded. Unfamiliar with the nature of the auditory discharge or its possible import, the K'eremu ignored it.

As a result of Walker's comment, some shuffling ensued among the judgmental trio. “That shows wisdom, if not intelligence,” declared Alet. “It also conforms to the opinion of another who has exhibited an interest in this situation.”

A frowning Walker immediately glanced over at Sque. Their K'eremu companion raised a pair of appendages.

“I have done nothing more than comment honestly on what I have observed these past several years. You should know that I can be nothing but honest.”

“That kind of honesty doesn't seem to be helping us much,” George observed tartly.

“The other to whom I refer,” Alet continued irritably, “is not the K'eremu Sequi'aranaqua'na'senemu, who has been forced to associate with you in the course of your wandering.” Pivoting slightly, she gestured in the direction of the fluid wall to her left. Like chrome jelly stirred by an active hand, a portal appeared in the undulating surface and a figure stepped through to join them.

Walker lost a breath. George growled softly as the hackles rose on his shoulders. Braouk started forward, only to be restrained by Sque.

“There can be no fighting here,” she warned their hulking companion. Tentacles gestured simultaneously in several directions. “There are dynamic devices present that will restrain even such an oversized sentient as yourself, and not always gently.” At her words of warning the Tuuqalian paused, vertically aligned jaws opening and clashing in frustration.

Advancing on thickened, flap-padded feet, the Vilenjji Pret-Klob came toward them, halting well out of reach of any of his former captives. Huge eyes that nearly met in the center of the tapering, cilia-crowned skull regarded them impassively.

“Greetings to inventory,” their former captor murmured with utter lack of emotion. “Tracking you has been one of the most psychologically rewarding if fiscally unproductive experiences of my lifetime.”

“How did you find us?” a stunned Walker blurted. “How
did
you track us?”

Cold, calculating eyes met his own. “On every world you visited, you stood out, human investment. By virtue of your uniqueness, you drew attention. The media of Niyu, where you traveled upon entering the service of one minor official there, was constantly full of your exploits: political, military, and culinary. That is how we initially located you there. You will recall that unfortunate confrontation, when this increasingly costly recovery operation would have ended but for the misguided interference of some of the natives. By the way, I congratulate you on your mastery of a new skill. I am always pleased when an item of inventory takes the time and trouble to enhance its own value without the need of additional financial input from my association. You are to be commended on your initiative.”

“Keep it,” Walker growled, no less gutturally than the snarling dog now standing at his feet.

“As you were journeying in the company of three well-armed vessels, we could hardly attempt to recover you through the use of force. Subsequent to your illicit flight from that world, the Niyyuuan media very usefully indicated in detail and at length the next destination to which you hoped to travel. As you know, the nature of our business requires my association to travel quite extensively. We had no difficulty locating Hyff. Though we arrived there in the wake of your enterprising engagement with the Iollth, by presenting ourselves to the locals as your friends, and making ourselves useful in other ways, we succeeded in learning that you were going to try to reach Tuuqalia.” Vast flattened eyes shifted to the barely restrained Braouk. “That being a world whose location in the stellar firmament we already knew, we then traveled there.”

Mindful of Sque's warning, Walker was also keeping a watchful eye on the silently seething Braouk. “I hope you had enough brains not to try to abduct another Tuuqalian.”

The Vilenjji's response suggested common sense, if not morality. “Actually, as we were already there, and had successfully carried out such an appropriation previously, the possibility was discussed. It was decided, however, that despite the potential profit, since the prior acquisition from that world had proven untenable, not to mention lethal, it fell on the downside of cost-effectiveness. Hence, no: no further acquisition was attempted on that world.”

“How fortunate for you,” Braouk rumbled.

“We only just missed you there,” Pret-Klob continued serenely, “but by the same means that have so greatly facilitated our commerce in the past, we did learn that you next intended to visit K'erem. We were most impressed to learn that you had acquired the assistance and company not only of the original three craft that had accompanied you from Niyu, but by now of Iollth and Tuuqalian help as well.” Eyes appraisingly traveled the length and breadth of the enraged Braouk. “You are well and intact, I see. That is good. Throughout the term of our following you my associates and I were much concerned for the state of our long-lost inventory.”

“Not your inventory, this particular saga spinner, or friends.” Reaching out with the two massive appendages on his left side, Braouk extended them protectively out over Walker and George. Probably correctly, the Tuuqalian was assuming that Sque was in no danger here on her homeworld. Though where the capricious K'eremu were concerned, Walker cautioned himself, nothing could be taken for granted.

“I'd like to know,” he pressed their tormentor, “why you continue to bother. In my trade, when a business deal goes sour and costs you money, you don't pursue it.” He indicated his friends. “We'd call it ‘throwing good money after bad.'”

“For one thing,” the Vilenjji told him easily, “in the course of your traveling, you have accumulated knowledge and skills that have greatly enhanced your value beyond that of simply being interesting uneducated specimens from unvisited worlds. More importantly”—and as he spoke, the tendrils atop his tapered head writhed and twisted vigorously—“there is principle involved. The Vilenjji do not willingly surrender inventory without making as aggressive an attempt as possible to recover it. Also, as I may have explained previously, it sets a precedent that is very bad for business if it is learned that inventory has been able to disengage from us without any compensation. That is damaging for customers to know, and damaging for inventory still in retention to know.”

“All right,” Walker shot back, his tone an uneasy mix of disquiet and defiance, “so you've managed to follow us this far.” He jerked his head sharply in the direction of the three inquisitive K'eremu. “Alet says you have an ‘interest in the situation.' I can tell you right now that's as far as it's going to go.”

“On the contrary,” Pret-Klob replied, unperturbed as ever, “I hope, and expect, that ‘it' will continue onward to what I consider to be the most desirable and logical conclusion. Unable to recover our absent inventory by force, the members of the association have consistently sought a way to bring other means to bear on this odious and ongoing dilemma. It may be that those means that would not be practical on, say, Niyu or Tuuqalia may have more efficacious application here.” The Vilenjji appeared to gather himself.

“In connection with that I have lodged a formal claim for the return of our absent property with the amorphous entity that passes for local authority on this world.” A sucker-lined upper arm flap indicated the unblinking Sque. “With the exception of one among you, the rights to whom my association must for obvious practical reasons abjure any claim.”

Feeling slightly faint, Walker struggled to hang on to his wits. Turning away from the poised and expectant Vilenjji, he directed his attention to the trio of silently watching K'eremu.

“This is insane. Surely you can't give any credence to this contemptible creature's outrageous claims!” Behind him, Braouk was already searching for an escape route, calculating whether it would be better to try to flee the port complex or take one or more of the three monitoring K'eremu hostage. Though mindful, and respective, of Sque's warning, he would readily die without seeing Tuuqalia again and with his grand saga unfinished before he would submit to Vilenjji captivity a second time.

George took a couple of steps toward the trio, nodding in the direction of the ever watchful Pret-Klob. “No matter what this ambulatory vegetable claims, we're all of us here independent intelligences. Capturing and selling a sentient is against the laws and customs of galactic civilization.”

It was Rehj who responded coolly. “What galactic civilization would that be? Whichever, it is not one to which the K'eremu belong, nor to whose laws we subscribe.”

That was right, Walker thought furiously. K'erem lay far, far outside the boundaries of the culture and society inhabited by the Sessrimathe and the Niyyuu, among others. Undoubtedly Pret-Klob and his loathsome association were counting on that.

“Though no decision has been rendered in this matter,” Mehz informed him, “it would behoove you to offer a better argument.”

“I have an argument.” The Vilenjji waved the flattened, sucker-lined extremity of one limb. “At this moment, there are in orbit around K'erem twelve warships crewed by representatives of three different warlike species, with delegates from a fourth.” In what was not quite a bow, his cloaked, purple-tinged upper body inclined in the direction of the three. “While I do not doubt the ability of such superior beings as the K'eremu to defend themselves and their world from any imprudent demonstrations of bellicosity, twelve ships is an impressive number. One that, directed and designed by other intelligent races, might conceivably pose a threat even to K'erem itself.”

Standing for a moment on his hind legs, George whispered up at his human. “What's the moldy old eggplant getting at?”

“I don't know,” Walker replied honestly, plenty worried in spite of his ignorance.

Both travelers quickly found out, as Pret-Klob continued. “By coincidence and good fortune, the commander of this entire force stands now before you. Neutralize him and his companions while still keeping them alive and well, and you eliminate any motivation for those on board the twelve armed ships to cause trouble. And in doing so, you also make permanent allies and friends of myself and my kind.”

Rehj could not frown, but conveyed the impression of doing so. “What ‘commander'?”

The arm flap that had been deferring to the three K'eremu now swung around to point directly at the startled Walker.

N
ot only was it a clever ploy, an apprehensively admiring Walker had to admit, it gave evidence of the veneer, if not the spirit, of intelligent thought. But while he was striving not to panic as he sought wildly for a suitable rebuttal, it became evident that the K'eremu, neutral in the dispute though they might be, were not to be easily persuaded to support
either
side.

“We could accomplish the same thing by simply keeping them here on K'erem and preventing them from returning to their ships. Realizing the hopelessness of recovering these three alive, those vessels would eventually depart.” Alet focused silver-gray eyes on the much bigger Vilenjji. “Such a course of action, however, would do nothing to satisfy the claim you have made.”

Mehz spoke up beside her, the ambient light of the chamber gleaming brightly on his more reflective epidermis. “While not subject to the laws of this distant galactic civilization of which everyone speaks, and indifferent to them, I admit to being personally uncomfortable at the idea that one intelligent species might profit through the buying and selling of representatives of another.”

“Keep in mind,” Pret-Klob responded greasily, “that by many standards they do not qualify as intelligent. Certainly not by K'eremu standards.” He gestured with both arms. “Do they come here in ships of their own people? No. Do they exhibit advanced technology of their own design? No. Have they, since they have been on your world, demonstrated any special insight or ability that would lead you to countenance such higher sentience? I think not.” One sucker-lined arm flap stabbed suddenly in George's direction. “As for that specimen, before it underwent an extensive internal adjustment by us, its intelligence was of such a low order it could neither think nor speak properly.”

Growling, head down, George started forward. “How about if I think I'll speak about taking a bite out of—”

Whispering urgently, Walker grabbed the dog by the nape of his neck to hold him back. “Don't do it, George. I'd like to take a bite out of him myself, but that's just what he wants: to upset us enough to get proof of what he's claiming.” Ignoring the Vilenjji, he turned his attention back to the watchful, contemplative threesome.

“I don't pretend to lay claim to any special intelligence. I'm only a trader in basic commodities—and a chef. If I'm not as smart as the average K'eremu, I'm still intelligent enough to do those simple things, and do them well. Surely that qualifies as sufficient sentience.” Releasing his grip on George's neck, he patted the still softly snarling dog on the head. “My friend here can't cook, and he can't arrange complex trades, but he can observe, and analyze, and comment intelligently on what he sees.” Jerking a thumb back over his shoulder, he concluded by observing, “And our large friend here is a composer of sagas and sonnets, whose people designed and built the four largest of the visiting vessels that are currently in orbit around your world. I think without a doubt, that even if our level of intelligence doesn't approach that of the K'eremu, it's enough to qualify each of us as intelligent.” He glowered at Pret-Klob, who was as usual unaffected by the glare. “Too intelligent by half to be returned to the tender mercies of a third party that intends to treat
us
as nothing more than a commodity.”

Distasteful as they found mutual proximity, the three K'eremu moved close together to consult. They said nothing Walker could overhear, but a prodigious volume of bubbles issued from the trio of nearly entwined speaking tubes. After several moments had passed, it was finally left to Alet to explain.

“Clearly, you are at least minimally intelligent.” Walker's spirits rose. “By your own standards.” They promptly fell anew. “We are not sure that is adequate to allow us to render proper judgment in this matter.”

A stalemate? Walker reflected. What did that mean, if the K'eremu charged with dealing with this business could not come to a resolution? The stated ambiguity did nothing to reassure him.

Just when it seemed that the final determination might as easily go one way as the other, Sque stepped, or rather scuttled, forward. Walker glanced over at her in surprise, while George, for once, sensibly kept his mouth firmly closed.

“While the simple nature of the three primitives whose company I was compelled to share these past several years is undeniable, I believe they have demonstrated intelligence sufficient to warrant their continued existence as independent entities.”

Walker immediately looked to Pret-Klob. While obviously upset at Sque's intercession on behalf of the remainder of his fugitive inventory, the Vilenjji wisely did not comment. Not with the current speaker having been among the former unwilling detainees held in captivity by his association.

“On what do you base that conclusion?” Alet asked her. Encouragingly, all three of the arbitrators appeared more than usually interested in what the fourth member of their number present had to say.

Sque was now gesturing with nearly every one of her appendages, executing a succession of complex gestures that were as much dance as exclamation. There was far too much for Walker or his friends to follow. But the combination of words and waves was having an effect on the trio who were to decide their fate.

“On their continued recognition of myself as the prevailing intelligence among them and, more critically, on the aid they rendered,” Sque declared in response to the question. Functioning with marvelous independence of one another, her gesticulating limbs individually pointed out Walker, George, and Braouk. “Without their assistance, primitive as it may have been, I would not be here now, faced with the need to confront you physically in a manner I am certain you find as unpleasant as do I. That effort on my behalf alone justifies their claim to retention of individual autonomy: the undeniable fact that they assisted a K'eremu.”

With that, she retreated from uncomfortable nearness to the three others of her kind. Walker badly wanted to add a comment of his own, but dared not. Instead, he knelt to let his right hand methodically stroke George's back. Recognizing the import of the moment, the dog continued to remain silent. Behind them, Braouk withheld the saga stanza he had just completed, conscious of the fact that it would be better to wait for a more propitious moment in which to deliver himself of his latest lines.

A second consultation among the three K'eremu went on longer than its predecessor. At its conclusion, the trio gratefully separated. Mehz waved three appendages at them, one for each supplicant.

“In the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary, it has been decided that no better way exists to resolve this apparent dilemma than to rely on the word of that paragon of sentient evolution, another K'eremu.” Other limbs gestured in Sque's direction. “We accept your reflection. Your primitive acquaintances are free to return to their waiting craft.”

Walker wanted to jump up and shout, to fling his clenched fist into the enclosed, perpetually damp air of the port. He restrained himself lest the reaction be thought overtly primal. Certainly it was impossible to envision a K'eremu reacting the same way in a similar situation. He settled instead for giving George a last firm pat on the head, straightening, and letting Braouk wrap the tip of one massive tentacle around his five human digits.

It was only by chance that he happened to notice the weapon gripped firmly in the suckers of Pret-Klob's right arm flap.

“I and the other members of my association have not traveled this long and this far to be denied that which we seek. The inventory is coming with me.”

The oddly circular hand weapon, Walker noted without moving a muscle, was aimed at the lone male among the three watchful K'eremu. They did not appear overly concerned by the Vilenjji's unexpected show of force. But then, a K'eremu never did. Feeling Braouk's mass shift subtly behind him, he slowly raised a forestalling hand. His arm could not stop the Tuuqalian if he wanted to make a rush at the Vilenjji. A tank would be necessary. But the gesture was enough. Respecting Walker's insight, Braouk held his ground.

“Interesting aggressive device,” Rehj commented thoughtfully, eying the weapon. “By way of contrast, our far more sophisticated equivalents are notably less injurious.”

None of the three K'eremu reached for a control, or made an unusual gesture, or took out a concealed device. None spoke a command or called for help. One moment, a large and very determined Vilenjji was standing nearby, his weapon trained on the trio. The next, Pret-Klob went stiff as purple pine, his body unmoving as a flash-frozen crab spat out by the quick-freezer of a Bering Sea trawler. Pulsing softly, a pale aura now enveloped his body, or perhaps emanated from it. Walker couldn't tell.

There are devices active here that will restrain,
he remember Sque warning him earlier. For once, their K'eremu companion had resorted to understatement.

“There is one other matter that should be attended to.” As if nothing untoward had happened, Alet advanced a few body lengths in Walker's direction. “Now that you know the location of K'erem, if we allow you to depart, what guarantee do we have that we will not be troubled by your annoying presence again?”

“We promise.” Walker responded reflexively, just as he would have if he been in the midst of an important business meeting with any client. “We won't come back. Honestly. Not that your world doesn't have its undeniable charms,” he added hastily, the trader in him contriving the necessary tact, “but for us K'erem has always been just a way station, not a destination.”

“Just one more hydrant on the highway of life.” Fortunately, the K'eremu's translators could not quite manage a seamless interpretation of the dog's comment.

“It be same, with me and mine, forever,” Braouk hastened to assure the watchful trio.

“What better way to be rid of them,” Sque added conclusively, “than to send them on their way back to the homeworlds they seek?”

A voice issued from the partially immobilized Pret-Klob. “Only the association knows the location of the human and canine world. The Niyyuu do not know it, nor do the Iollth, or the Hyfft, or the Tuuqalia. It is so isolated and distant that none are aware of its location but us. It will not be divulged; not even for a price.” While the Vilenjji could move neither head nor eyes, Walker became convinced his former captor was staring directly at him, and him alone. “There is principle involved.”

Though Pret-Klob could not have known it, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. If only he had not said “only.” Because in doing so, he had unwittingly laid down a challenge to the K'eremu.

This time it was Mehz who stepped forward to confront the visitors—still maintaining a suitable distance, of course. “Sequi'aranaqua'na'senemu speaks sensibly. In the interests of ridding K'erem's vicinity of you as quickly and expeditiously as possible, it will be recommended that our astronomical facilities be encouraged to cooperate with your own meager equivalents.” Silvery eyes glanced indifferently in the direction of the immobilized Vilenjji. “So many of the lesser species suffer from an appalling conviction of their own supremacy.”

George could not restrain himself. “A failing that fortunately escapes the K'eremu.”

“Yes,” agreed Mehz without a hint of irony. “I suspect you will all be on your way sooner than you think.”

Walker gestured at the powerless, silently fuming Pret-Klob. “What about him?”

Alet spoke up. “The unpleasant creature will be returned to its own orbiting vessel. Hopefully suitably chastened. Neither he nor any other from his craft will be permitted to return to the surface of K'erem. They have violated our generous hospitality.”

Walker wanted to say, “What hospitality?” He did not, and this time George held his peace. Possibly because Braouk had, as he had once done with Sque on his own world, thoughtfully wrapped the tapered end of a very large and very strong tentacle around the dog's mouth.