Saluu-hir-lek’s accusations made him even more uncomfortable. Unexpectedly reduced in stature to just one more commanding officer among many, Kojn-umm’s most famous soldier was spitting mad as he stalked back and forth in front of the transparent, curving wall of the climate-controlled bubble. As was the custom in Charuchal-uul, there was no furniture. Everyone present was forced to stand for the duration of the gathering. Though uncertain as to the specific cultural rationale, Walker observed that it was an excellent way to keep the length of official meetings under control.
The occasional appearance beyond the wall of quartets of leaping segestroth, who resembled a cross between giant goldfish and drowning doves, formed an incongruous background to the general’s rant. It seemed that whenever Saluu-hir-lek became particularly wound up, four or eight or twelve of the spectacularly highlighted ocean dwellers would execute a series of their impressive leaps as they traveled back and forth between the harbor and deeper ocean waters beyond.
Walker’s discomfort was caused by the fact that he and his companions were the subject of the general’s loud complaining. George remained by his side while Braouk stayed as far from the see-through walls as possible. The Tuuqalian, it developed, could not swim. In contrast, Sque hugged the place where the nearest curving wall met the floor, hoping for an early end to the gathering so she could spend some time crawling over the spume-soaked rocks outside.
As Saluu-hir-lek raved on, Walker would look past him to the rest of the official delegation from Kojn-umm. Sometimes Viyv-pym met his stare; other times he found her looking away. He could not tell, as he might have been able to with a human, what she was thinking. With mixed success, he tried to convince himself that it was not important.
Like a pair of dancing snakes, the general’s arms kept twitching in Walker’s direction. “Look at him! Who this creature to whom you give such power? A visitor from world that not even part of civilization. Such decision run counter to everything in Niyyuuan history.” His attention wandered to George, panting softly near the human’s feet. “And his companions. What we know of them, of their real motives? Maybe really come here only to make trouble.”
“As it has been told to me,” the general Afyet-din-cil of Biranju-oov countered, “they originally brought here to make telugrivk. With sweet garnish.”
Saluu-hir-lek’s furious stare was insufficient to overcome the hacking laughter that the other officer’s observation sparked. Telugrivk was a complex dish whose preparation Walker had mastered during his first days on Niyu, and for which he had become widely admired among those Niyyuu fortunate enough to have tasted it.
“It’s true we may have acquired some small influence,” Walker responded. “But we didn’t ask for it, and we certainly didn’t go seeking it.” He looked toward Deeleng-hab-wiq. Thus far, the commander of the traditional forces of Charuchal-uul had remained placidly in the background. “It was bestowed upon us. And we don’t really want it. Not that kind of power, anyway. What we want is a way to return to our homes. One that will allow us to do so without having to spend any more time than is absolutely necessary at stops along the way.” Spreading his hands, he moved his arms in as near an approximation of the relevant Niyyuuan manner as his far stiffer joints would allow.
“I don’t see any problem here. We want to leave, and some of you”—he eyed the silently simmering Saluu-hir-lek—“want us to leave. Just give us the resources that we need to do so properly and we’ll depart without another word. Any perceived problems caused by our presence will disappear. We’ve only done anything we have done up until now because no one would give us the help we need.”
Now Deeleng-hab-wiq did step forward. “We would prefer that you remain among us, Marcus Walker. Having positioned yourself as you have, you cannot just leave us. Besides”—he eyed his own attending subordinates—“what you request would not only be extremely difficult, but costly.”
“The cost can be met.”
All eyes turned to the new speaker. Pushing her way to the forefront of the milling group was a Niyyuu Walker had not seen before. She was tall even for one of her kind. Clad in a triple wrap of dark blue, crimson, and silver chiffonlike material, she advanced with a flowing grace unmatched even by Viyv-pym. Even Sque was moved to pause in her yearning contemplation of the wave-washed rocks outside the chamber to contemplate the newcomer.
Satisfied with the impression she had made, the new arrival announced herself. “I am Jhanuud-tir-yed, vice premier of the realm of Fiearek-iib.” Murmurs arose from those in attendance who had not recognized the newcomer immediately upon her formal entrance. When the whispering died down, she continued.
“I have come from halfway around world to attend this meeting. I represent not only Fiearek-iib, but others as well.” She proceeded to coolly reel off the names of an adequate number of powerful realms to intimidate even the fiery Saluu-hir-lek. That done, she turned her attention to Walker and his now-attentive companions.
“We too wonder at real motivations of strange visitors. You come among us armed not with weapons or proclaimed ambitions, but with curious knowledge drawn from elsewhere.” One arm rose and described an arc through the air. “Yet now one of you is in position to determine strategy for combined traditional forces of six realms. Six realms that fight among themselves, yet redeploy together. This is a new and atypical thing in Niyyuuan terms. It is worrisome. It concerns government of Fiearek-iib and its friends. Is even talk that should such an anomaly continue to spread, some might have to break with tradition and make use of modern weapons to stop it.”
That shocking statement produced little gasps of disbelief as a number of small round mouths contracted involuntarily. What the vice premier was suggesting was nothing less than a dissolution of the compact that had allowed the various realms of Niyu to settle disputes and safely engage in therapeutic warfare for thousands of years. Among the assembled only Saluu-hir-lek, Walker managed to note, did not appear distraught. But then, Walker knew better than most the depth of the general’s deepest ambitions.
He became aware that the imposing visitor had once more turned back to him. “To forestall such potential upheaval, has been determined by my government and that of those of our neighbors of like mind to do what we can to remove principal source of much of possible contention.”
“That’d be us,” George pointed out succinctly from the vicinity of Walker’s ankles.
“Yes.” She glanced down at the dog. “I am authorized by government of Fiearek-iib and its allies to offer whatever financial and material support is required to help yous return yous’ homes. But in return, is something we want.”
“Sure,” Walker replied without having the slightest idea what he might be letting himself and his friends in for. “If you don’t mind my asking, what might that be?”
The voice of vice premier Jhanuud-tir-yed of Fiearek-iib became that of an enthusiastic commoner. “Exclusive rights for representatives of our media concerns to record and later broadcast entire account of yous’ attempt to return yous’ homeworlds.”
The shrill uproar set off in the chamber by this seemingly innocuous request was potentially damaging to ears more sensitive than those of the Niyyuu. Walker knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Among certain of their hosts, media rights to a unique narrative were as significant as the conquest of one traditional army by another.
Deeleng-hab-wiq finally managed to restore a semblance of order. The energetic braying and heavy breathing subsided. “What the honored representative from Fiearek-iib demands must be debated. But at first hearing I think is probable suitable mutual agreements can be reached and practical arrangements made.” He turned back to Walker. “Is becoming clear that despite wishes of many, yous cannot be held here. Therefore government of Charuchal-uul will also contribute to yous’ homeward journey.” That said, his tone changed from the officious to the sympathetic.
“But all resources of Niyu insufficient return yous home if is not known coordinates of respect
ive homeworlds.”
Not even the commanding figure of Jhanuud-tir-yed had an answer for that. But Sque did.
Scuttling away from the wall, the K’eremu positioned herself between Walker and the vice premier. “One is always grateful for a confluence of favorable circumstances. I requested this meeting through the human Walker to inform all the relevant parties of certain information that has recently come into my possession. I certainly did not expect also to encounter the means by which it might be acted upon. For that I would thank Fate—if I in any way believed in it.” Raising her voice, she looked to her left and commandingly waggled several uplifted tendrils. “It is time—come in!”
Yet another new figure came forward from the back of the crowd. Walker reacted with fitting surprise the instant he recognized the newcomer.
It was the Kojnian astronomer Sobj-oes.
She offered greetings in the traditional manner of her realm, with a double-finger caress that stroked him from neck to waist. “Hello, Marcus Walker. It good see you once again.”
“But I didn’t . . .” He looked sharply down at the K’eremu. “What’s this about, Sque? Why didn’t you tell me Sobj-oes would be joining us here?”
“Because the justification for her to do so only came to light very recently, Marc.” She blew a conciliatory bubble. “There is no reason for anyone, however individually interesting, to interrupt their work and extend themselves for the purpose of delivering non-news.”
The implications inherent in the K’eremu’s response were as obvious to George as they were to his human companion. Letting out a loud, joyful bark, the dog bounded forward, rose on hind legs, and rested his front paws against the astronomer’s slender legs.
“Earth! You’ve found the coordinates for Earth!”
Walker felt like barking—or at least shouting with happiness—himself. The feeling of utter elation lasted about as long as his friend’s shout.
“I afraid not so.” The impression of deep regret in the astronomer’s voice was profound.
George slumped, dropping his forepaws from the Niyyuuan’s lower limbs, his head lowering. Downcast, he turned and walked slowly back to rejoin his friend. But if Walker had been less quick to respond with excitement, he was also less ready to give up hope. Sque had as much as said that Sobj-oes would only come this far if she had something significant to report.
“But you have found something?” he pressed her. Though they would not personally be affected by the astronomer’s response, the assembled delegates and notables, from Deeleng-hab-wiq to Jhanuud-tir-yed and even Saluu-hir-lek, listened with unmistakable interest. So did Viyv-pym, perhaps with feelings more mixed than most.
“As you know, Marcus Walker,” Sobj-oes began, “I promise you that night long ago in Kojn-umm that I and a few trusted associates would work in our spare time to try and help yous find yous’ way homeward. This work has not been easy. Certain select portions of electromagnetic spectrum very crowded with communicatings of all kinds. Difficult, sometimes impossible, separate unintelligible from understandable, natural from artificial. Search for yous made more challenging by conflicting standards, lack of specifics, other difficulties.” One sinuous arm rose to point at the attentive Sque.
“She and I secretly stay in touch these past many ten-days. Exchange information. She make many suggestions. Some very useful.”
Walker glanced down at the K’eremu. Her reply was as calm and self-possessed as ever. “You had complex native interrealmic relationships to deal with. I did not want to distract you—certainly not with false hopes.”
He would have replied in a suitably acerbic manner, but was too keen to hear what else the astronomer had to say. “What have you and your associates managed to find out, Sobj-oes?”
She eyed him warmly. “As I already say, too sadly not coordinates your own home, Marcus Walker. Not actual specific coordinates any of yous’ homes. But just possibly, after distilling from very large volume of information by using unambiguous knowledge provided by Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu as workable sieve, may have found indications of occasional visitation to certain far-reaching region by one of yous’ species.” She paused to gather herself. “Are unverifiable but highly suggestive signs pointing to intermittent passage through specified area of occasional ships from world called Tuuqalia.”
The roar that rose from the rear of the meeting bubble thunderously affirmed that the largest individual in attendance had not, after all, been sleeping soundly through it all. As an excited Braouk rose to loom over the assembled delegates, many of whom suddenly found one reason or another to shift their position within the chamber, Sobj-oes the astronomer hastened to calm him.
“I say again: relevant indicators do not provide location of this world. Only that representatives of your kind may have been recorded transiting the fairly extensive region in question.”
“It is a beginning.” Despite the astronomer’s bombshell Sque was, if anything, only a little less composed than usual. “However imprecise it may be, we now have a destination. Our course is clear.” Tendrils writhed. “Travel to the place where the outsized saga-singers may have paid a call. In that vast but infinitely reduced section of space, seek additional clues to the location of their world. Even allowing for the distances the Vilenjji cover in their search for novel species to market, any region visited by the Tuuqalia must necessarily be nearer to K’erem. And to Earth,” she added with only the slightest of tactless pauses.
“At least it’s a trail to sniff.” George was sitting on his haunches, eyes half-closed, contemplating the possibility they might at last actually have secured a line on the first phase of a way home.
A way and a means, if Jhanuud-tir-yed and the other senior representatives present were to be believed, an elated Walker reflected. In his excitement he barely managed to ask the obvious next question. “Can you show us?” he asked Sobj-oes.
Nodding, she gestured with one sinuous arm. General officers and senior bureaucrats alike made room, forming a compact, curious circle around her. Even Saluu-hir-lek was intrigued.
Removing from her waist pack a small device that would never have been permitted inside a traditional Niyyuuan military encampment, the astronomer coaxed it to generate a three-dimensional map of the galaxy. Rapidly zooming in, she froze the image on a system containing six planets and a pair of asteroid belts.
“Niyu,” she explained for the benefit of the nonnatives present. Another command to the device caused the scale to expand to show hundreds of systems, related astronomical features, and a respectable chunk of starfield. “The always-changing, ever-fluctuating area of space those who dwell within its boundaries loosely refer to as galactic civilization.” Once more the image dissolved and re-formed as the scale expanded. Expanded until the region affected by civilization had been reduced in size to a small blotch amidst the blackness. Like the electrified wing of some dark phoenix, several inner bands of one arm of the galaxy filled the refulgent, illustrated space. A minuscule point of light, a microscopic nova, flared approximately halfway out on one arm.
“The region where mention of Tuuqalia has been detected.”
Breathy exclamations of surprise mixed with trepidation and concern rose from the assembled. The point of light was located very, very far indeed from the area demarcated by civilization.
“I have traveled to many worlds,” Jhanuud-tir-yed declared somberly, “some of which lie far distant from beloved Niyu. But this representation speaks to distances beyond my experience.” She looked over at the astronomer. “Your measurements are accurate?”
Sobj-oes gestured unequivocally. “They checked many times, by better scientists than I. At such distances is tolerated some allowance for error. But given distance involved, potential error is not significant.”
Stepping forward, Deeleng-hab-wiq let the two fingers of his right hand pierce the projection. Slowly, methodically, they traced the space between civilization and the region highlighted by the point of light. Th
e expanse was daunting.
“I not historian, but I think no ship of Niyu has ever traveled so great a distance. Certainly not in direction indicated.” Vast yellow eyes settled on the attentive Walker. “Know, visitor human, that we Niyu not a bold species by nature. We not explorers of the Great Dark. Leave that to far-wandering sentients like the Sessrimathe. The Niyyuu like their world, like being closely linked with civilization. We not the kind to take chances such as this. As you know well, even our chosen manner of internecine warfare is conservative.”
With one long, flexible finger, the contemplative Deeleng-hab-wiq stirred stars. “As regarding that, visitors have often forced us to think in new ways. Perhaps now is time to think in new ways regarding bold voyage such as this.” Whereupon he added, to show that he had not lost sight of what was really important, “Rights to recording of such an important journey cannot be exclusive. Must be shared. Information must be pooled. This too important an event for one realm, even one such as Fiearek-iib, to control. Related rights should belong to all realms of Niyu.”
“That reasonable enough,” the vice premier reluctantly conceded, “if all realms contribute to costing.”
Interest rapidly gave way to negotiating as the assembled delegates began to argue among themselves over which realm’s media representatives were best qualified to accompany and document the unprecedented attempt to return the visitors to their homes. Though the debaters were utterly alien, Walker noted that their mind-set was not.
After a while, the ear-grating drone gave way to more calculated discussion as matters of principle were subsumed in debate as to who should pay what actual costs.
“As initiators of the proposal, the government of Fiearek-iib and its friends will underwrite a suitable vessel,” Jhanuud-tir-yed insisted, “as well as appropriate crew. Others may participate in proportion to their fiscal contribution.” This pronouncement set off another round of strident discussion, until it was interrupted by a single loud interjection in a distinctive accent.
The Light-Years Beneath My Feet Page 22
