The Light-years Beneath My Feet (24 page)

“Viyv-pym?”

The fingers returned, this time to anxiously stroking his bare left shoulder. “You must rise up, Marcus Walker. Now!” In the feeble light, he saw that while she was touching him, she was looking elsewhere.

As he sat up and slipped off the sleeping frame he found himself, as usual, envying the Niyyuu their superb night vision. The best he could do was stumble and feel around for his clothing. The fact that he was naked did not trouble him and certainly did not interest her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“They coming for yous.”

Fighting to blink sleep from his eyes and power up the hard drive that was his brain, he struggled to make sense of what was happening. “What are you talking about, Viyv-pym? Who’s ‘coming’ for me?”

“Not just for you. For you and yous’ friends. You must all of you leave, now, tonight.” Moving away from him, she checked the door readout against the instrumentation that encircled her narrow wrist. “I not know how much time remaining.”

While he finished fastening his adapted Niyyuuan attire, she woke George. Growling, the dog snapped upright on his smaller sleeping platform. When he saw who had awakened him, he was just as confused as Walker. She did her best to explain the reason for the nocturnal invasion as they exited the room and hurried to alert Sque and Braouk.

“I have found out that other aliens come look for you.”

Hurrying to keep up with her as George trotted alongside, Walker fought to make sense of what she was telling him. The Vilenjji implant functioned efficiently no matter how sleepy he was. “What other aliens?” He thought automatically of the Sessrimathe. Did they want him back? It was flattering, of course, but he had come to Niyu for a reason and had no desire to return to that paragon of civilization and its well-meaning, if sometimes overbearing, inhabitants.

“Big, purple-skinned, with eyes even larger than those of Niyyuu, wider than those of you small many-limbed friend.”

George uttered a sound that emerged halfway between yelp and curse. “Do their skulls rise to a point topped with little wavy things, like thick fur?” When she indicated in the affirmative as they turned a corner, there was no ambiguity in the dog’s subsequent angry exclamation.

So the persistent Vilenjji had tracked them all the way to Niyu, Walker mused. What of it? Why the worry and near panic on Viyv-pym’s part? The Vilenjji had no power here. Or was he, as was all too often the case, overlooking something? Certainly the sense of urgency she had conveyed ever since waking him suggested as much.

The last of the four fellow travelers to be unexpectedly roused from a sound sleep, Sque divined rapidly what had happened.

“The Vilenjji have found an ally among the Niyyuu, or they would not pose a threat to us.” Eyes that were slashes of silver set in dark maroon flesh looked up at those of the tall female Niyyuu. “You know who it is.”

She indicated in the affirmative. “I am sorry have to say these beings have corrupted the general. He is helping them.”

Braouk could not believe it. “Saluu-hir-lek, whom we assisted greatly, now betrays?”

As they exited the structure and hurried toward a silently waiting private transport, the ocean of lights of Charuchal-uul’s capital city pulsed around them. Other vehicles slid or soared past on silent repellers. An increasingly apprehensive Walker eyed each and every one of them, wondering which might hold implacable Vilenjji and their newly inveigled Niyyuuan cronies.

“I not sure what they promise him,” Viyv-pym told the lumbering Braouk, “but whatever the specifics, they apparently sufficient. Under some galactic law-reasoning, he sending Kojnian soldiers to help ‘recover’ you.” She looked back at Walker, who was following close behind. “This alien say you its property.”

“More twisting of the precepts of civilization.” Lacking true feet, legs, or massive supporting tentacles on the order of the Tuuqalian, Sque was having a difficult time keeping up. As her kind were not built for walking, running was almost as alien to them as flying. Perceiving her difficulty, Braouk scooped her up and bore her along, carrying the K’eremu as effortlessly as he would have an infant.

“It not matter,” Viyv-pym responded. As her breathing grew deeper, her muscular round mouth expanded and contracted like a miniature bellows. “Who wields what guns is what matter now. I make what arrangements I could, but I not Charuchalan and it difficult this time of night to make contact with relevant parties.”

“Something both the Vilenjji and our erstwhile comrade Saluu-hir-lek doubtless have taken into consideration.” Freed from the debilitating need to drag herself rapidly across the ground, Sque’s voice had strengthened.

Thankfully, the transporter Viyv-pym had engaged was large enough to accommodate all of them, including Braouk. Not trusting automatics that could be compromised, she had sensibly arranged for a manually controlled vehicle. In addition to the Charuchalan driver, it contained one other inhabitant.

“Sobj-oes!” As they entered the big transport, George bounded into the astronomer’s lap and gave her face a friendly lick. Having no tongue, she could not respond in kind. She had to settle for stroking his head with one hand, a compromise that more than satisfied him. He sat there, head up, eyes alert and forward, tail metronoming. “Where are we going? Someplace to hide out until the local authorities can get a handle on Saluu-hir-lek?”

She hacked up a racking cough of amusement. “Someplace, yes.” Leaning to her left to peer around him, she snapped instructions at the vehicle’s operator. They were beyond concise.

He must know where we’re going,
Walker thought rapidly.
Viyv-pym and the astronomer must have had enough time to brief him before they got here.

As the trim but capacious craft accelerated, he found himself seated close to Viyv-pym. “Where are you taking us?” Mindful of George’s question, he took a guess. “Local authorities?”

Those bottomless eyes seemed to flow into his. “Not safe. I know that Saluu-hir-lek has been compromised by these aliens. I not know who else. At such times, in such circumstances, all must be considered suspect. Promises of wealth and power render even the most upright susceptible. Also, I have no influence here. This is Charuchal-uul, not Kojn-umm. To ensure yous’ safety, must get yous away from here.”

“You’re sending us back to Biranju-oov?” he wondered.

It was Sobj-oes who replied. Her expression when she looked over at him, or as much of it as he could read, was electric with enthusiasm. “No, Marcus Walker. One hope most fervently that we are sending yous home.”

The main port was enormous, as befitted one serving the capital of a powerful dominion. Their transporter hummed right past it. As it did so, Walker could see an impressive ship emerging from the night sky and settling massively to ground. Unexpectedly, George began to laugh, snickering in his suggestive way as he rolled back and forth on the astronomer’s narrow, bony lap.

Seeing no humor whatsoever in their increasingly dangerous situation, Walker challenged the dog. “What’s so funny? You won’t be laughing very long if these Vilenjji catch up with us again.”

Composing himself, George scrambled back up into a sitting position. “I’m sorry, Marc. It’s just that after all these chronological years and light-years we’ve traveled, after everything we’ve been through, here we are being spirited away in the middle of the night again, to be bundled up and rushed off-planet.”

“It’s not the same,” Walker murmured in response. “This isn’t Earth.”

“Neither is where we’re going, remember?”

Angling sharply but smoothly to the left, the transporter entered an access that led to a subsidiary section of the main port. The lights were fewer here, the looming nearby facilities showing ample evidence of age and some neglect. Eying them, Walker had to remind himself that what he was seeing was still hundreds of years in advance of anything on Earth.

Looking like a conjoined cluster of mating white and gold beetles, a transfer craft sat quiescent on its raised service platform. It was not as large as the craft Walker had just seen land at the busy section of the port, but it was far larger than any commercial airliner on his homeworld. A loading ramp led at a modest angle up into a dark opening in one of the craft’s bulging components. As the transporter slowed to a halt nearby, a squad of energetic, determined Niyyuu emerged from the ship’s interior to greet it. All of the tall, slender, big-eyed natives were armed, Walker noted. And not with spears or swords, but with energy weapons and projectors.

Sobj-oes, for one, was clearly relieved to see them. “Some of yous’ crew,” she informed him. “Most are volunteers. Spirit of adventure not confined to Sessrimathe only.”

As he quickly exited the transporter, Walker studied the cluster of assembled Niyyuuan faces. Even in broad daylight and even given the length of time he had by now spent among them, it was sometimes difficult to tell what they were thinking. But it was clear that these were alert and aware. Their two-fingered grips on their weapons were firm. In this group, at least, there seemed to be slightly more females than males.

Without warning, several of them raised and leveled their weapons. Walker tensed, while next to him, George swiftly scampered around behind the human’s legs. The guns were not aimed at him and his friends however, but at a point past them. Behind them.

The second transporter that had pulled into the little-used service and loading area was larger than its predecessor. It proceeded to disgorge several dozen armed Niyyuu. Despite the poor light, Walker had no trouble making out the uniforms and insignia of the armed forces of the realm of Kojn-umm. A number of the soldiers appeared disheveled, as if they had been called to duty in haste and forced to dress themselves on the run. In the forefront, he immediately recognized a familiar and atypically undersized figure: Saluu-hir-lek, looking even more uncompromising than usual. Together with that of his companions, however, the bulk of Walker’s attention was reserved for the thick-bodied, robed, and sandaled figure that sloughed along beside the Niyyuuan general.

Not only was it a Vilenjji, it was a Vilenjji he and his friends recognized.

“Spawn of sewage, leaver of slime tracks, death sniffer,” Braouk rumbled threateningly. As the seething Tuuqalian started forward, Walker hurried to intercept him. There was no need for that—yet.

The Vilenjji was as imperturbable as ever. Businesslike, to another way of thinking. “I see that the special eloquence of the Tuuqalian remains intact. That is gratifying. I am always pleased to find mislaid goods undamaged.”

“Sorry we can’t say the same for you.” An irate George peeped out from behind Walker’s ankles.

Implacable, Pret-Klob trained widely curving oculars on the impertinent quadruped. “And the small furred one’s intelligence level has not reverted. I always worry about the permanence of complex neural modifications.” The tapering skull came up. “I hereby claim property rights of which my association has been illegitimately deprived.” One flap-tipped arm rose to point. “That one, and that, and the two behind them. Property of my association.”

As the barely restrained Braouk extended a pair of accusatory tentacles, Sque crawled out to the end of one. Her weight did not even cause it to tremble.

“While different worlds adhere to and live by their own individually promulgated legal systemologies, common galactic law forbids the holding of any sentient as chattel. This is not Vilenj. You have no power here.”

“On the contrary,” Pret-Klob countered her. “All that is required is that means be available for avoiding prolonged deliberation in legal analysis.” His eyes bored into Walker’s. “Once off this world and in open space, other rulings take effect. I and the surviving, and new, members of my association wish only to recover what is rightfully ours, originally acquired after much hard work and travail. These efforts at recovery have already cost us much.” Without changing tone in the slightest he concluded, “Our goods may already have suffered significant depreciation.”

“I wish I had bigger teeth,” George snarled. “I’d depreciate you right down to that frizzy pinhead of yours, and play kickball with your eyes.”

“An unlikelihood,” the Vilenjji responded impassively as he turned to peer down at his recently engaged Niyyuuan associate. “Every minute of this disagreeable but necessary enterprise is costly and awkward to expense. General, be so good as to proceed with the recovery of what are rightfully the assets of my association.”

At a sign from the grim-faced Saluu-hir-lek, the soldiers behind him started forward. Simultaneously, the remainder of the armed crew of the transfer craft drew and raised their own weapons so that they were in line with those of their comrades. Taken aback by this suggestion of serious resistance, the uncertain Kojnian soldiers held their own weapons at ready. In the distance, another ship thrummed as it lifted toward space.

Across the far too small, intervening strip of plasticized ground, both heavily armed groups regarded each other tensely.

16

H
eedless of the potent weaponry pointed in her direction, Viyv-pym moved forward until she was standing in front of Walker and George. In a voice that did not shake, she addressed those confronting her. Her words, however, were directed not at a furious, startled Saluu-hir-lek, nor at the hulking alien standing next to the general, but at the troops clustered behind and on either side of them. Despite his nervousness at being confronted by so many lethal devices, as she spoke Walker eyed her with the kind of admiration men in his position usually reserved for females of the species who exceeded their annual sales quotas by six figures.

“Soldiers of Kojn-umm! That yous’ commander standing before yous. But this not yous’ fight. We do not keep other intelligent beings as property in Kojn-umm. No realm, no commercial concern, no individuals on Niyu keep intelligent beings as property.” She paused to let her words sink in. “This foulness of a principle is what yous being asked to support. Not security of beloved home realm in courageous, traditional manner of our kind. Not defense of our homeworld. Nothing but a principle of commerce that as alien to the Niyyuu as is the small-headed creature that presently stand before you.

“By refusing do this dishonest thing yous do not disobey principles of combat for which yous enlisted. Is no proper combat here.” One slender arm gestured expansively to take in their surroundings. “This not Kojn-umm. No officer or official of Kojn-umm, no matter how famous or feted at home, have authority here.” The arm swung around and down, coming to rest lightly across Walker’s shoulders. “These sentients beside me have fought alongside you for many ten-days now. They have helped bring great acclamation to yous and to Kojn-umm. Is not right to betray them for benefit of other alien who has done nothing for either.” Her voice lowered.

“Whatever other alien has promised, whatever yous been told, one thing is clear to any soldier who claims Kojn-umm as home: is not right sell honor for profit.”

Only the breathy industrial sounds of the nearby main port sifted through the cool night air. Saluu-hir-lek spoke into the darkness. “Kill her.”

Long fingers holding weapons tensed on both sides. And—nothing happened. From the back of the force of Kojnian troops someone muttered matter-of-factly, “This Charuchal-uul—not Kojn-umm.” Though he whirled around sharply, Saluu-hir-lek was unable to identify the individual who had spoken.

First one, then two more, then every weapon was lowered, on both sides. Crew and indigenous Kojnians regarded one another through the night. An officer of average skill knows when to hold his position and when to attack. A superior one knows when to fall back. Saluu-hir-lek peered up at the Vilenjji.

“I find I without necessary resources to fulfill you request. Therefore it with much regret I say that I must decline you offer.” Before Pret-Klob could respond, the general had turned back to the aliens with whom he had shared both the good and the bad for many ten-days.

“If yous go with this Vilenjji, Saluu-hir-lek prevails. If yous leave Niyu, Saluu-hir-lek prevails. Due to financial arrangements, I would prefer first option, but circumstances dictate I recognize second.” His eyes came to rest on the unyielding Viyv-pym. “I sorry you attached to political arm of government. You would make fine officer.” Pivoting, he gestured to his troops and simultaneously uttered a curt command. In response, they began to holster or shoulder their weapons and shuffle back toward the vehicle that had brought them. The potentially deadly confrontation was over.

Just like that. Only not quite.

Pret-Klob had not moved. If the Vilenjji was armed, he chose not to reveal a weapon. A wise choice, given that the transporter crewmembers who had so forcefully prevented him from recovering his inventory had not shifted their own positions. Instead, he let his stretched oculars scrutinize them one and all.

“Human Marcus Walker, canine George, Tuuqalian Broullkoun-uvv-ahd-Hrashkin, K’eremu Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu: know for a certainty that this only constitutes yet another expensive delay in the implementation of the inevitable. If you will now come with me willingly, I am authorized, on behalf of my re-formed association, to make a onetime offer and grant you a percentage of the profit of your own individual sales when you are sold.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Walker managed to reply with remarkably little recourse to sarcasm, “but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline. We’re going home, you see, and letting you sell us someplace would put a serious crimp in those plans.” Turning to go, he found himself hesitating.

“Something I don’t understand, Pret-Klob. If the Vilenjji are such dedicated businessfolk, and such careful monitors of the bottom line, and these attempts to repossess my friends and I are costing you so much—why do you keep at it? Why don’t you just give it up and focus your energies on more immediately profitable activities?”

Pret-Klob gazed back at him. “It is not good to allow inventory to escape. It creates a bad precedent. Most especially, it is not good when the inventory in question, though of variable capacity, is manifestly inferior to the Vilenjji.” Efficient translator implant notwithstanding, the other creature’s true alienness succeeded in communicating itself to the interested Walker.

“To allow you to go free, after you forcibly excused yourselves from our control, would be to admit your equality with the Vilenjji. This would call into question the very principles on which our trade is founded. That we cannot permit. Hear me clearly, human. There should be no misunderstanding. I and my association will follow you wherever necessary, for as long as is necessary, overcoming whatever difficulties may place themselves in our way, until we have recovered our property. This is an absolute.”

Hanging from the end of one of Braouk’s powerful tentacles, Sque whispered to Walker, “Do not let his words trouble you, Marc. The Vilenjji are as full of gas as the sixth planet of Asmeriis.”

“They don’t trouble me, Sque,” he lied. Louder, to the Vilenjji, he said, “You do what you have to do according to the principles you live by. We’ll do the same. And if we are fated never to meet again, know that I ardently wish you poor sales and inaccurate accounting.”

The Vilenjji stared at him a moment longer. Either it was truly impossible to genuinely upset one of his kind, or else they had developed the ability to wholly internalize their irritation to a degree unmatched by any species Walker had yet encountered. Conscious of the fact that the vehicle that had brought him to the port was now almost loaded with its complement of put-out Kojn-umm soldiery, he turned on his sandal-clad foot flaps and lurched heavily in its direction. Insofar as Walker was able to tell, the Vilenjji did not look back.

Not until the big surface transporter had cleared the port perimeter did the armed crewmembers who had put their lives on the line for the sake of the visitors finally secure their own weapons and prepare to enter the transatmospheric transfer craft. A cheerful George was the first one up the ramp, already chatting amiably with and making friends among the delighted crew. Braouk followed, carrying Sque, who avowed to any who would listen that from the very beginning of the confrontation she had known exactly how it was going to turn out. Walking just ahead of them, the astronomer Sobj-oes was unable to escape the K’eremu’s unrelenting paean to her own infallibility.

Walker lingered, waiting on Viyv-pym. It was left to her to inform him of something he expected but still did not want to hear.

“I not going with you, Marcus Walker. I not qualified to be of crew.”

His head tilted back only slightly, he stared into her wide, brilliant, golden-yellow eyes. “Surely you can’t go back to Kojn-umm, Viyv-pym.” He gestured with his head in the direction taken by the departed troop transport. “Just because Saluu-hir-lek paid you a backhanded compliment doesn’t mean he won’t find a way to deal with you once you’re both back in your own realm. He may not be human, but I know how guys like that work. We have the same types in my business. They don’t forget something like this.”

“I need not return Kojn-umm,” she assured him. “As someone with off-world diplomatic and commercial experience and expertise, I have been offered a succession of admirable positions by both Biranju-oov and Charuchal-uul. Should I wish take advantage of it, opportunities even in Fiearek-iib are open to me.” A long-fingered hand indicated the city that lay just beyond the main port. “Many excellent choices are mine.” The hand swept downward, and both long fingers came to rest against his sternum.

“When I first save you from Vilenjji and bring you here from Seremathenn to make food presentations for notables of Kojn-umm, I not think it end quite this way.” The delicate fingertips brushed his chest. “Good journeying to you, Marcus Walker. I have learn much from you. I hope you have learn some small things, maybe, from me.”

“I know that I have, Viyv-pym.” Placing the two middle fingers of his left hand against her lower neck, he let them drag gently down her lissome front. Then, impulsively and without thinking about it, he put both arms around her and pulled her close. Though she resisted slightly at first and was taut with lean muscle, he outweighed her by more than a third.

As he put a hand behind her head and drew it down toward his own, a single not-so-subtle thought ran through his mind as he kissed her.
What in the hell do you think you’re doing?
For one thing, she had no lips and therefore could not properly kiss him back. He didn’t care. He very much wanted to kiss her. If only, he told himself fatuously, in the spirit of scientific experimentation.

Taken completely aback, it took her a moment to respond. When she did, it was perhaps in a similar spirit. Or maybe it was nothing more than an instinctive reaction to what he was doing. In any case, the ring of muscle that encircled her small, round mouth contracted, and she inhaled forcefully.

It was not like his first kiss, nor even like those he had enjoyed on successful outings with members of the opposite sex of his own kind. But his lips were bruised for weeks afterward.

The ironic thing was, if he ever did want to boast of it to his buddies, no one would ever believe him.

Jhanuud-tir-yed turned away from the latest multistory media projection that was currently dominating the central atrium of government central in the capital city of Fiearek-iib. Other functionaries, passing around and through the image, were enthralled by the great expedition. As for herself, during the previous ten-days the vice premier had seen and experienced quite enough of the aliens. That they had nearly failed to depart in the intended fashion was a fact known only to a few. With care, it would remain that way, nothing more than an imperceptible bump along the road to what everyone hoped would be a glorious footnote in Niyyuuan history.

Things could have been worse, she knew. They could have been much worse. No one was happier to see the four visitors finally depart Niyu than the venerable vice premier. Given the way the visitors had manipulated the traditional forces of Kojn-umm, Toroud-eed, and several other realms, it was a relief to see them go. While most of the attention had been focused on the bipedal human and the massive Tuuqalian, it was the smaller pair of visitors who had kept Jhanuud-tir-yed awake at night. That seemingly charming four-legged thing—what had it been called? George, yes. A single naming for a singular creature. And that arrogant, pompous jumble of tendrils and glitter who called herself Sque. The vice premier hadn’t trusted the K’eremu from the first time she had observed her lurking in the background, letting her more affable companions do the preponderance of the talking.

Now they were gone. Now life on calm, complacent Niyu could get back to normal. And regardless of the eventual outcome of the possibly doomed expedition, of one thing she was certain with regard to the aliens.

It had been worth three ships to get rid of them.

Walker did not know what Sque or Braouk thought of the Niyyuu vessels. Their own species were space-going, sophisticated, and afflicted with their own systems of engineering aesthetics. As for George, the dog volunteered readily, “I don’t care what they look like as long as they start up when someone turns the key and go when somebody steps on the accelerator.” But Walker thought his first sight of the ships, as they came into view on one of the transfer craft’s monitors, was beautiful.