The Light-Years Beneath My Feet

by Alan Dean Foster

  He was quiet, trying to digest everything she had said. As usual, no matter how fervently he detested her manipulation of him and his friends, no matter how much he hated being used, he was finally forced to admit that the results just might have been worth all the sneaking and subterfuge. They now found themselves in a position that should greatly enhance their chances of finding a way home. And she was right about something else as well: despite not wanting to admit it, he had to confess to himself that if she had clearly and unambiguously laid out her intentions back in Kojn-umm, he would automatically have rejected them. Not only because he would have believed in their ultimate failure, but because of the potential danger.

  At that thought he performed what could only be described as a follow-up double take. “I could have been killed! At any time since we left Kojn-umm, I could have been killed. Or Saluu-hir-lek might have figured out what was going on and had me assassinated. Or the forces of one of the realms we were opposing could have had me killed.” Rising slightly, he leaned toward her over the back of his own high Niyyuuan seat. “That’s why you didn’t want to put yourself forward as the promoter of the eventual strategy that was devised. That’s why you’ve stayed in the background and out of the way. You figured that if anything went wrong with your scheming, as the public face of it I’d be the one who’d get killed.” His head snapped sharply to his left. “What are you laughing at?”

  Off to one side, George had fallen off his narrow seat and was rolling back and forth on the floor, teeth exposed, his feet pawing at the air. “Slickly snookered by Sister Seafood! And not for the first time, either. Humans never learn. You’re so wrapped up in your own vanity and glory, that—” The dog dissolved in laughter.

  Having hoped for at least moral support from the canine quarter of the quarrelsome quartet, it was fair to say that Walker was less than pleased with his companion’s ebullient response.

  “You are of course correct in your assessment.” His accusation found Sque as serene and unruffled as ever. “Surely you must admit that for any of us mismatched fellow travelers to have a chance of returning all the way home, it is imperative that I, of all of us, must remain whole and unharmed.”

  With an effort, Walker controlled his anger. “I do apologize if my desire to go on living conflicts with your overall assessment of how best to deal with our present situation.”

  The K’eremu was as immune to sarcasm as Braouk was to flung stones. “There is no need to apologize. You are not responsible for responding according to base instincts over which you have no control. It is the same with all the lower orders.” Then, perhaps relenting slightly, possibly realizing she might be stepping over a line she could barely perceive, she added, “I am of course directing all my considerable mental energies to seeing that all of us, and not just myself, complete that much-to-be-desired voyage.”

  Turning away from her and ignoring her gently probing tendrils, he folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t knock yourself out,” he muttered crossly.

  Transparent lids flicked down over silvery eyes. “I am afraid my embedded translator is having difficulty with your last comment.”

  By way of response, an irate Walker supplied a follow-up whose meaning her translator had no difficulty whatsoever conveying unequivocally. The questing tendrils promptly withdrew. No more was heard from the K’eremu for the remainder of the journey.

  From the capacious rear of the transport, verse floated forward borne on the wings of alien melancholy. Braouk was reciting.

  “Cast adrift here, fighting and killing daily, empty actions. How I long for the endless fields of Tuuqalia, for its vaulted skies and waving fields of surashh, for its dense forests and cool plains, for its—”

  Necessity overcoming the need to visually display his displeasure, Walker uncrossed his arms and pressed his palms tightly against both ears. George used his front paws to press his own ears firmly against the sides of his head. For her part, Sque simply ignored their massive companion’s latest interminable recitation. Unequipped to translate it, their Charuchalan hosts remained blissfully ignorant of the content of the alien drone, however much it sounded to them as if the largest of their honored guests must be feeling vaguely unwell.

  The most honored commander of the expeditionary army of the traditional forces of the righteous realm of Kojn-umm was in an ill humor. He had been ever since the startling anointment of the ungainly human as the chief strategic planner for the nonalliance of quasi-cooperating military forces of six territories. It was outrageous! It was insupportable!

  It was also, however uncomfortable, a fact, and one that he was going to have to deal with. In order to do that, he needed information. Believing he possessed enough of the latter, he had been taken by surprise by the unity of the other realms’ decision. He would not make the same mistake again.

  Hence his impatience when the citizen he had summoned to his presence finally appeared before him.

  While she was not intimidated by the prospect of a private conference with the general, neither did Viyv-pym have any idea what Saluu-hir-lek wanted of her. She found out very quickly, as Saluu-hir-lek addressed her directly and in no-nonsense tones.

  “What does this alien Marcus Walker mean to you?”

  Her tails twitched involuntarily, a clear sign she did not understand the question. “Mean to me? There no meaning attached to relationship. I his appointed guide on and to world and culture of Niyyuu. Same functioning applicable to his three companions. If relationship has any meaning, takes the form of what I am paid by government of Kojn-umm.”

  His words contradicted his gesture of understanding. “I have had abundant time to observe the alien Walker. Also to observe the alien Walker observing you. Is more there than simple diplomacy.”

  Initially confident upon being sent for, his guest found herself increasingly bemused. “I confess I not follow the general commander’s line of reasoning.”

  Her unfettered bewilderment was answer enough for his purposes. “Never mind. I’ve learned what I need know. You are blameless of participation in this betrayal.” Coming close, he lowered his rasping voice. “You must understand, Viyv-pym: I had to find out. Do not carry any concern with you now that clarity in this thing is restored.”

  Having been accused and then found innocent of something without ever once having been informed of what it was, she was understandably bewildered. Her trial was apparently over without her ever having been brought before a court. Given her initial perceptions, she ought to have felt relieved. Instead, she was more confused than ever.

  “You are upset because of the human Walker’s elevation,” she hazarded.

  “Upset!” Once again he had to lower his voice. “Upset, yes. This whole matter is absurd, ridiculous, and unreasonable.” His flexible arms snapped in the air of the room like whips. “The alien is a cook, not military strategist. But I not fooled.” His large, alert eyes gleamed. “I see what being done. Charuchal-uul, Biranju-oov, and others wish marginalize me and influence of Kojn-umm on future actions. Better they not relax. When time come, I will deal with their deceit.”

  “And the human?” Viyv-pym was not entirely sure why she should care, or why she asked. She knew only that she did, and she had.

  “Eehgh, the human! It strange, but I not mad at him. It clear to me that he being manipulated for the ends of others. What others, I still not certain. No doubt good cook is ignorant of how he being used. No, the alien food preparator is harmless. I more fear the actions of his companions, especially the small rubbery being with many limbs. She says too little, sees too much. I repeatedly reproaching myself for my neglect of her.”

  Viyv-pym gestured supplely. “I am Kojn-umm. You my superior. I will do whatever you deem necessary to advance best interests of our realm.”

  “I know that you will, Viyv-pym. For moment, though, nothing can be done. Is better more useful watch and wait.”

  “For what?” she asked him as she lowered her arms.

 
He was staring ferociously, but not at her. “For opportunity.”

  Their rooms were admirable, overlooking just one of the great sweeping harbors for which Charuchal-uul was famed throughout Niyu. If the level of technological sophistication was not up to that of highly advanced Seremathenn, it was at least the equal of Kojn-umm. As honored guests, they had no cause for complaint.

  At least not against their hosts, whose attitude toward them continued to reflect a mixture of admiration, suspicion, and a curiosity that bordered on the fawning. Among two of the visitors, there was still some internal dissension.

  Walker was pacing back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling transparency that overlooked the view. If he closed his eyes almost shut and let his mind drift, he could imagine that he was standing in a skyscraper looking out over Lake Michigan. Then he would open them again, and his sight and mind would be confronted by alien architecture, alien transport, and a sky that was just a shade too greenish.

  “You can’t keep interfering in local affairs like this. You’re going to make a mistake and get us killed.” He halted close to the K’eremu. “Look how your actions have offended Saluu-hir-lek. I’ve become familiar enough with Niyyuuan expressions and reactions to know that this whole experience has changed him from a friend to someone who wouldn’t be sad to see us disappear.”

  As she listened to the human, Sque was lolling on one of the narrow padded benches that were the Niyyuuan equivalent of a comfortable couch. While her tendrils sprawled loosely around her, her body stayed, as always, upright in the center of the ropy mass.

  “What I am going to do, Marcus, is get us home. You do still want to get home, don’t you?” He said nothing. “As for offending the ambitious general Saluu-hir-lek, I cannot function effectively if I am forced to waste time concerning myself with the possible personal disenchantments of representatives of the local dominant life-form.”

  Nearby, George had been running nose patrol over a section of the peculiarly resilient flooring, absorbing and cataloging smells for future reference. Now he looked up briefly at Walker. “You sure, Marc, that it’s Saluu-hir-lek you’re so concerned about offending?”

  Walker’s brows drew together as he regarded the busy canine. “I don’t follow you, George.”

  “It’s been awhile since we had a visit from our lean and trim original minder, hasn’t it? Maybe you’re worried our activities might have offended her?” He bared his teeth. “Maybe you miss her a little?”

  “Viyv-pym is our most active and knowledgeable conduit to the Niyyuu,” Walker snapped crossly. “She is our connection to this world and this culture and has been ever since Seremathenn. I miss her because of that, yes.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cocking his head slightly to the right, the dog sat down and began scratching himself behind one ear. “Tell me something, Marc. When you kiss her, is it like sticking your tongue down a vacuum cleaner hose?”

  A furious Walker began chasing the dog around the largely unusable Niyyuuan furniture while the agile canine toyed with him, remaining just beyond the human’s reach. Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu did her best to ignore them both as she contemplated their immediate future. Despite a nagging conviction that doing so was a waste of time, she was still determined to do her best to save them both, along with the oversized versifier who was presently sleeping soundly at one end of the large room.

  How she missed the reasonableness of K’erem! Of home, of her own kind, each individual secure in the knowledge that he or she was the epitome of evolution. She missed the soothing solitude of her own quiet, carefully landscaped residence, the chance to communicate with others of like mind—over a secure distance, of course—the opportunities for advanced intellectual discourse. None of the latter were to be found here, where she was forced to act always as teacher and never as student.

  For all that, for all the inherent physical and mental deficiencies for which they were not responsible, she rather liked her companions. Braouk, with his melancholy manner, ever eager and ready to recount the passionate sagas of his world to any who would listen. If only he would shut up more often. The small quadruped George, whose tail never seemed to stop moving, an appendage as close to achieving perpetual motion as any she had ever seen attached to another intelligent being. Even Walker, forever unsure of himself but unafraid to do whatever was necessary to improve their situation.

  She wondered if any of them actually liked her, or if they only pretended to do so in order to keep her superior intellect focused on the business of getting them all home. Not that it mattered. No K’eremu needed to rely on the approval of lesser life-forms to sustain a feeling of self-worth.

  On the other tendril, it was doubtful any peaceful, solitary K’eremu had previously found itself in her position. To her discomfiture, she found that she did care if her companions liked her or not. Her tendrils drew in more tightly around the base of her body. No doubt, with time and proper meditation, the unnatural feeling of caring what a motley lot of lower life-forms thought about her would go away.

  When the human, out of breath from chasing his smaller but much quicker companion, finally halted, she confronted him. “What difference should it make to you, Marcus, or to any of us, if we intervene in local affairs? Our hosts are barbarians who dwell under the slimmest veneer of civilization.” Tendrils rose and fluttered, describing distinct patterns in the air.

  “They slaughter one another under the pretext of restraining themselves. The fact that they forbid the use of modern weapons in these bloody ritual exercises between individual tribes shows only that they have an interest in preserving their species, not in improving it. Then there is the obscenely ubiquitous media coverage. No other marginally civilized race of my acquaintance views intraspecies warfare as an excuse for crass entertainment.”

  His quarrel with George forgotten, Walker looked uncomfortable. “One other does,” he muttered uneasily. “Except that it doesn’t restrict its use of weapons to the archaic.” He did not have to elaborate.

  Sque’s speaking tube emitted a succession of small bubbles. “I might have suspected as much.”

  He waited for inevitable indictment, the twist of the verbal knife, the perfectly minted coin of sarcasm. When it was not forthcoming, he blinked and peered down at her. “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say?”

  Tendrils bobbed and weaved, like an anemone preparing for a prizefight. “What could I add that would embellish the depressing reality of your kind? If your culture is not so unlike that of the Niyyuu, then I should not have to explain why I feel no compunction at manipulating the latter. There is no beauty, no entertainment, no satisfaction to be found in the killing of one’s own kind. It is an abomination that all sentient species should have shed. Yet it lingers on in remote, out-of-the-way places.”

  He found himself nodding slowly. “You’re correct, Sque. I have no right to criticize your actions here. The K’eremu, I take it, don’t fight among themselves?”

  “Only with sharp phrases and pointed words. These cut deeply enough.” A knot of maroon-hued coils, she dropped off the couch and slithered past him, stopping at the transparent wall. George trotted over to join her in gazing at the busy metropolitan harbor below. A silence ensued during which the only sounds in the room were the barely audible whisper of the air recycler and the somewhat louder breathing of the dozing Tuuqalian in the back.

  “If Fortune is with us, we will not have to concern ourselves with the affairs of this wayward world and its argumentative folk much longer.”

  Walker looked down at her in surprise. “You’ve heard something!”

  The upper portion of the K’eremu’s body arced back, and metallic eyes gazed up at him. “Learning things is as much a matter of listening well as it is of cultivating sources. One picks such bits of possibility out of a society even while its majority is occupied with an activity as wasteful as war. All I am saying is that in the near future there may occur a development or two favorable to that end whic
h is of interest to us all. Should these eventuate, we will need to act together, with one voice.” She drew herself up to her full four feet.

  “That means my voice, of course, but I am certain you both already understand that.”

  “I don’t understand it,” George objected out of principle. “But I’ll go along with anything that’ll take us a step closer to home.”

  “Everyone needs to be prepared to fulfill their part.” She looked past them both, straining to see past the high, uncomfortable furniture. “Stir that lump of sensitive Tuuqalian flesh from its extended slumber.” With several tendrils, she gestured in Braouk’s direction. “I will advise you.”

  “What if these developments you’re referring to don’t pan out?” Walker asked her.

  Glistening eyes turned back to him. “Then your intelligence level will have been raised up an infinitesimal fraction from having paid another time-part’s attention to me. Go wake the brute.”

  Not having anything better to do, Walker did as she requested. Carefully, as always. There were occasions when the Tuuqalian had a disconcerting tendency to wake up swinging.

  14

  Called at Walker’s request—but at Sque’s direction—the meeting took place a ten-day later. The representatives of half a dozen different realms and their traditional fighting forces gathered in a bubble chamber attached to the end of a pierlike structure that thrust outward from a point of land north of the capital city’s main harbor. Though the chamber was not small, the immense transport vessels that skimmed past at high speed, heading for the inner harbor, made it seem so. After many ten-days spent in the field marching with traditional forces, Walker had still not completely reacclimated himself to the trappings of modern galactic technology.