The Light-years Beneath My Feet (9 page)

“Same steadfast compact that keep military from attacking noncombatants.” Viyv-pym put a gentle arm around his shoulders. “Must try to see state of affairs from Niyyuu point of view, Marcus.” He wasn’t sure which was more unsettling: the arm resting on his shoulders and neck, or her use of his first name. “Ancient accord sustains harmony of all Niyu. If one realm breaks tradition, all other realms combine to punish it. If individual breaks with custom, own comrades would provide punishment. Accord has lasted thus for thousands of forty-days.” Inclining toward him, she brought her face close to his own. He had to fight not to lose himself in the flaxen depths of her eyes.

“Is not same with you’s culture?”

“Not exactly.” He swallowed. “We have wars—we do fight—but we’re not as         .         .         .         polite, about it as the Niyyuu.”

A soft barking nearby caused him to glance sharply downward. George was visibly amused. “I can see trying something like this on Earth. Might work with higher beings, like dogs. But humans? You can’t even keep from using advanced weapons between mates. There’s civilized behavior, and then there’s human civilized behavior. Seems like out here there’s different degrees and definitions of war, too.”

As the transport capsule began to slow, Walker felt moved to defend his species. “At least we’re different when it comes to broadcasting the horrors of actual warfare.” He handed the roll-up screen back to Viyv-pym. “When it comes to that, the Niyyuu apparently aren’t nearly as appalled by it as we are.”

“Give me a break, man. You’re not appalled at all. I’ve spent plenty of time on the street. Watched humans at fights. Street gangs versus bikers. Cops against lawbreakers. Always draws a crowd. Maybe their speech is full of horror, but their expressions tell it all. You want to know how your own kind really reacts to combat and violence, study their respiration and pulse and sweat glands, not their language.”

“Appalled?” As the transport’s door slid aside, Viyv-pym looked from human to canine. “Niyyuu not appalled by fighting. Wars keep the peaces. Combat sustains the concordance.” She held up the screen. “Everyone follow each conflict with much interest. War is politics. Is Niyyuu culture, commerce, entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” Walker was aghast.

She confirmed his dismay “Anyone can quote yous history of famous battles, involving many realms. Names of famous soldiers, officers and common. You spend more time on Niyu, you see. Battles broadcast all times. Pick favorite realm, favorite soldiers, favorite fightings. Much to see, much to learn. Much to admire.”

Like the gladiators who became media stars in ancient Rome, Walker told himself unhappily. Watch them slice and dice each other, have a few laughs, then go home to the wife and kids. That is, if you didn’t bring the wife and kids to the show with you. Today’s special: murder and slaughter. Family packages available. All in the name of righteous service and maintaining a widespread, functional peace between competing territories. All without having to resort to the risk of general devastation and the imposition of impoverishing military budgets on a disinclined populace.

Probably the system also worked wonders for the racial psyche. Those who wanted to fight could do so without suffering any social opprobrium. In the absence of advanced weaponry, each individual was guaranteed some chance of surviving combat based purely on the development of individual skills. Those who wanted nothing to do with such old-fashioned violence could not only avoid it, they could participate vicariously through the actions of volunteer armies: others as well as their own. Sure, Walker rooted for the Bears and the Bulls, but back home he and his friends watched other games as well, where they also chose sides. Superficially, the only difference between the sociopolitical situation on Niyu and the National Football League was that the latter involved the spilling of less blood while the former doubtless resulted in more far-reaching eventual consequences than a Super Bowl championship.

Though initially revolted, he had to admit the system had its attractions. Too bad it would never work on or be imported to Earth. For one thing, the necessary cultural background and referents were as different as the two species. War, even limited war, was not a game to be played out on a grassy field. At least not among loutish humans.

As George had so indecorously pointed out, humans were not sufficiently polite.

Eager to initiate the visitors into the intricacies of Niyyuuan society, Viyv-pym kept up a running commentary on the battle as soon as it resumed, pointing out eminent individual warriors and officers, commenting on tactics, remarking knowledgeably on battlefield conditions. Watching and listening to her, a disconcerted Walker found himself wondering if rain would be considered grounds for a bad-weather postponement of the battle. Thus far there had been nothing on the flexible screen to indicate the presence of referees. In their absence, it had to be assumed that the combatants policed themselves. A kind of “call your own fouls” conflict, where intentional tripping was supplanted by maiming and unnecessary roughness was a contradiction in terms. He wondered if there was a Niyyuuan battlefield equivalent of illegal use of the hands, and doubted it.

Then she was rolling up the screen and slipping it back inside her double-wrapped costume. They had arrived at the food preparation area.

The half dozen or so Niyyuu lined up to greet them eyed him eagerly. His reputation having preceded him, Walker did not need to identify himself. More problematic was the matter of what role to assign to his companions. He was disappointed when Viyv-pym drew them off to one side to consult with an elderly local, leaving him to deal with the nutrition technicians alone.

They were enthusiastic enough. His requests for specific equipment were met with a chorus of ready responses, the combined harshness of half a dozen Niyyuuan voices all attempting to answer at once leaving him wishing that his first ingredient was a hearty dose of acetylsalicylic acid. Occasionally putting his hands over his ears he persevered, however, and soon the basic outlines of his demonstration began to take shape. This first performance should be a defining one, he knew. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint, lest he and his companions find themselves unceremoniously shipped back to Seremathenn. They had come too far to waste time and effort in backtracking.

“This hot-air spinner,” one of the younger assistants inquired, “what it be use for?”

“Carelth,” Walker informed her. Among the many gourmet Niyyuuan dishes whose constituents he had memorized during the journey from Seremathenn to Niyu, carelth was one basic foodstuff that seemed to offer excellent opportunities for customization.

“But carelth is baked, not hot spun,” remarked an older male.

“Not
my
carelth,” Walker told him firmly.

After that surprise, he had them firmly in the grasp of his gastronomic vision. They were not quite sure what he was going to do, but every one of them looked forward keenly to seeing him do it.

6

W
here 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, sauted, pured, and flambed. 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.