Though there was no definitive sense of motion, he felt that the compartment must be some kind of internal transport. In order to function efficiently, a vessel this vast would need such, he reasoned. And when they emerged from the compartment’s interior, it was to exit into a different, smaller corridor from the one they had traversed before. Here, the curious stares of the far fewer Sessrimathe present lingered longer on the visitors.
Their guards/guides escorted them into another chamber—Braouk barely managed to squeeze through the entryway—and left them there. Enclosed by white walls devoid of ports or windows, the foursome waited for whatever might come. They were restless, but not worried. Whatever the Sessrimathe decided to do with them could be no worse than what they had already fled.
“I could use a drink,” George murmured.
A few moments later, a portal opened in one wall, and three metal canisters glided into the room. Opening the simple lids, the captives were treated to glimpses, smells, and the sheen of water, some kind of powerful alcohol, and in the third canister what Walker thought might be blue-tinted hydrogen peroxide. Eagerly, the foursome took turns at the water.
Settling back against a wall and wiping lingering droplets from his chin, Walker found himself mentally racing through every metaphor employing whiteness that he could recall. In the end, he likened his present situation to being trapped inside a tube of toothpaste, wondering whether the Sessrimathe would turn out to be germs or cavity fighters. The allegory displeased him. Aside from its juvenile aspects, he was disappointed he could not do better. The Tuuqalian summed up their situation far more elegantly.
“Could be worse, dallying in this place, sucking atmosphere.” The thoughtful Braouk considered testing the doorway to see if it was locked, then decided against doing so. Even if he could manage an exit, there was nowhere to go. Nothing to see but more ivory-hued walls and bustling tripartite Sessrimathe.
Hours later, when the portal through which they had been herded opened anew, they were not surprised to see three of their hosts enter. Two remained by the door. Whether they were guards or observers, Walker could not tell. The third individual approached the curious foursome. It was unusually tall for one of its kind—its immovable, triangular head reached nearly to Walker’s chest.
“I am the progenitor Tzharoustatam of the male gender. It has fallen to me to try to make sense out of what has been encountered.”
Before Walker or any of her other companions could respond, Sque scuttled forward. “I am Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu, a female of the K’eremu. These representatives of two other systems and three additional species are my companions in misfortune. Whatever ensues, I ask you not to hold their primitive ways against them. They cannot help what they are.”
Two eyes, right and center, regarded her while the left was left to focus on Walker. “What ways are to be held against anyone, or for anyone, are yet to be determined. Contact was made with the other vessel in near space. It is crewed by Vilenjji, a species that is known to us. Not well known, but sufficient for us to be aware that they operate within the parameters of galactic civilization.”
As the body pivoted slightly, all three eyes now came to rest on Walker. Once, such an alien, unnatural stare would have made him panicky. After what he had gone through these past many months, he found that now it did not trouble him at all. He had been the focus of too many alien oculars for another one (or three) to unsettle him.
“The secondary vessel from which you were retrieved was encountered in the process of leaving the Vilenjji craft. While we monitored a mix of anger and commotion emanating from the latter, nothing at all was detected from within yours. As we were nearby, Command decided to investigate and to see what if any assistance we might offer in the event there was some problem. The response of the Vilenjji to this courteous inquiry was . . . confused. They insisted that the secondary vessel and its contents be returned to them immediately. When we politely offered to ascertain the condition of the contents of the vessel in question, they responded that this was unnecessary, perhaps even dangerous.
“A solicitous probe of the secondary craft’s interior revealed the presence of four active and diverse life-forms—yourselves. This did not strike Command as a revelation of potential danger. Against the ongoing protestations of the Vilenjji, it was determined that we should make an investigation ourselves.” All three arms rose and rotated in a gesture that was as alien to Walker as was their owner.
“So—here you are. Have your say.” Unexpectedly reverting to silence, the Sessrimathe awaited a response.
“There is much that needs to be said,” Sque began without hesitation. “I would begin by commencing an extensive cataloging of—”
“Please.” The Sessrimathe cut her off. K’eremu appendages fluttered in frustration as Tzharoustatam refocused his attention on Walker. “You tell me.”
“That is a human, from a backward world,” Sque persisted, “who is not sufficiently developed to—”
“Please second time.” Translated and interpreted, Tzharoustatam’s tone was noticeably firm. “I ask the biped.” Sque’s speaking tube threatened to collapse in on itself, but she had enough sense not to argue further.
The triple stare should have been unnerving. Instead, Walker found it comforting, though he was unsure which eyes to try to meet with his own.
“Can you be brief?” their interrogator requested. “The Sessrimathe are ever busy, and prize time above all else.”
“You bet,” Walker assured him. Next to him, tail wagging steadily, George offered silent encouragement while the motionless mountain that was Braouk extended his eyestalks as far forward as possible. “We’re all four of us prisoners, captives. Abducted from our homeworlds to be sold for profit by the Vilenjji.” Not knowing in which direction their captors’ ship now lay, he settled for gesturing expansively. “There’s at least one other area of enclosures—cages—on the Vilenjji ship that’s full of other captives whose sad situation is identical to ours.”
Walker could not be certain, but it seemed to him that these disclosures took the Sessrimathe aback. His impression was confirmed by Tzharoustatam’s disbelieving reply.
“You are certain of this? You were all of you taken against your will, to be (the revulsion in his voice was unmistakable) sold? Like common property?”
Having not yet been instructed to be silent, George took the opportunity to speak up. “Like old play toys, yes. Sometimes they’d experiment with us, to see who showed what abilities, who was compatible with others, that sort of thing. It was horrible.”
“When you stopped us, we were trying to escape,” Walker added for good measure.
“Escape? Escape to where?” Tzharoustatam’s bewilderment was plain.
“It didn’t matter,” Walker told him gravely. “Anyplace. We were ready to die rather than return to Vilenjji captivity.” He hesitated, but the question that had been festering in his mind ever since they had been brought aboard the Sessrimathe ship had to be asked. “You’re—you’re not going to return us to them, are you?”
“Return you . . . ?” Interestingly, when the Sessrimathe interrogator flushed, its skin turned not red but the color of burnt umber. “If what you say is true . . .” Pausing again as if to collect himself, Tzharoustatam’s left and middle eyes finally turned back to Sque. “Can you, K’eremu, confirm this?”
“Are you saying that you do want to hear my opinions?” Sque’s tone was decidedly frosty.
Walker hissed at her, “Sque, for heaven’s sake, not now!”
“Oh, very well.” Tentacles unclenched. “I confirm everything the backward biped says, as will my other companions. As will those unfortunates who are still held captive within the Vilenjji vessel, if you will take the time to interview them. It is a most monstrous enterprise and nothing less that is responsible for ripping us from our homeworlds.” Eyes rife with intelligence met the equally formidable gaze of the Sessrimathe. “Better you should kill us all, here and no
w, than return us to the Vilenjji and send them contentedly on their way. At least we would perish cleanly. Though,” and raising her speaking tube, she sampled the air, “if it comes to that, I personally would prefer to ask the Long Question in a more salubriously humid clime.”
“No one is going to kill anyone.” Tzharoustatam was clearly horrified that the very notion had been given voice. “Nor is anyone going to be returned to what may be corrupt circumstances. What you have told me demands immediate investigation.”
His spirits soaring, Walker forced himself to keep a damper on his hopes. Nothing had been resolved yet, much less anything in their favor. His months on the Vilenjji craft had taught him patience, a quality alien to his chosen profession.
“Meanwhile,” the Sessrimathe told them, “you will remain here as our guests. If you have bodily requirements beyond the ingestible fluids that have already been supplied to you, speak them, and they will be forthcoming to the best of our ability.”
The dog piped up without hesitation. “I could use a warm, affectionate little—”
“George,” Walker said warningly. “Let’s not abuse the hospitality of our gracious hosts.”
“Oh, all right.” At least not right away, the dog decided silently.
“We will need sustenance. Fuel.” Sque’s lissome appendages danced in the alien air. “I can provide descriptions of necessary proteins, from which additional chemical compounds can be synthesized. That should be adequate for now.”
“I am pleased that you think so,” replied Tzharoustatam without a hint of sarcasm.
“When—when do you think you’ll make a decision? On what to do with us?” Walker asked tentatively.
The triocular gaze turned back to him. “When we have ascertained truth, guest. Until then, you will be given what you need. If there is anything specific beyond what has already been mentioned, speak of it now.”
Braouk asked for a certain kind of flavoring to be added to his food. Sque recited in detail the chemical makeup of the drug (or “food additive” as she deftly put it) joqil. A mutt of refined taste as well as enhanced intelligence, George asked if they could synthesize filet mignon, and needed Sque to elucidate the relevant chemistry.
When it came his turn, Walker hesitated. “If you have some kind of universal reader, or translator-equipped device, I’d very much like to learn about your civilization.”
Tzharoustatam eyed him approvingly. “Sessrimathe civilization—or galactic civilization.”
“Galactic,” Walker advised him.
“Nourishment of a different organ. I think an appropriate device can be found. If not, one can be modified. Provided you are willing to allow a brief preparatory study of your central nervous system.”
“Like Sque said earlier,” Walker told the alien, “nothing you do to us can be any worse than what we’ve already been forced to experience.”
The middle three-fingered hand gestured. “Your requests will be seen to.”
George stepped forward to gaze up at the Sessrimathe. “What happens when you’ve finished your . . . investigation?”
One eye remained fixed on Walker while the other two regarded the apprehensive dog. “You will promptly be informed of the results, and any subsequent decisions.” As the alien turned away, Walker marveled at the coordinated movement of its three legs. “Abducted,” he thought he heard the Sessrimathe murmur. Then it was gone, followed by its two companions who had not spoken but who had most definitely listened to every word of the encounter. The doorway closed behind them.
Once again, the uneasy foursome were alone in the white room. As promised, Sque was soon contacted for information on ingestible chemical compounds. Not long afterward food was forthcoming, along with a greater variety of consumable liquids. To Walker’s astonishment, one shimmering blue canister contained a dark fluid that looked and tasted like several gallons of thick raspberry syrup. His only regret was that he could not drink more than a little of the rich, heavy fluid. It went down even better when drizzled atop something that had the taste and consistency of a venison muffin.
As it had in the course of so many difficult days past, his battered but still reliable watch kept him apprised of the passage of time. Sated with food and drink, they waited amid their sterile surroundings for the next reaction from their hosts.
It came within hours, as Tzharoustatam returned. Once again he was accompanied by two others of his kind. Only this time, both were armed. Within, Walker withered. The presence of weapons was not promising.
It did not immediately occur to him that they might have another purpose.
15
“Outrage! An affront against civilization!”
For a bad moment, Walker thought the Sessrimathe was talking about him and his companions. Then he was able to see that the alien’s anger was not directed at him, or at his friends. Tzharoustatam was raving—in the courteous, proper manner of the Sessrimathe, but still raving—about something else. The nature of that something else the three-legged alien was shortly to identify.
“Come with me, all of you.” Without waiting to see if they were complying, their host pivoted and strode back toward the portal through which he had just entered.
“Whither we go, relying on new friends, for seeing?” As usual, Braouk lumbered along in the wake of his smaller companions.
“To the Vilenjji,” Tzharoustatam informed them.
Sque halted immediately. “Oh, no. You are not turning us back to them. We have already made our sentiments known on that point.”
Tzharoustatam turned his body just enough for the left eye to regard her. “Do you think the Sessrimathe as primitive as you do your companions? Our inspection has exposed the truth. It was only a matter of insisting that we be given a tour of the Vilenjji craft. Once aboard, we were able to take ourselves where we wished to go. Observing this and divining our intent, some of the Vilenjji resisted. I regret to say that we were compelled to take countermeasures. There were casualties.
“Your fellow abductees were located. Their situation was as you described it. Enough were interviewed to fully corroborate your earlier statements. These unfortunates are now in the process of being rehabilitated and freed of constraint.” Limbs gesticulated animatedly. “A crime against civilization has been committed. There will be repercussions. Reports will be filed. Interspecies relations and interactions being what they are, distances being what they are, it may be that nothing of immediate consequence will happen as a result. But reports will be filed.” In the erudite, mature vernacular of his kind, Tzharoustatam’s words made it sound as if shots were going to be fired, not reports filed. Perhaps, Walker surmised, what the Sessrimathe was referring to was the civilized equivalent in this part of the galaxy.
“Then why are you taking us to the Vilenjji?” he heard himself asking. Their armed escort, he noticed, did not flank or follow but instead preceded them. As if, he slowly came to realize, their intent was not to watch over them but to protect them.
“So you can be made acquainted with their current status for yourselves. Until all relevant ramifications have been resolved, they have been taken into custody and their ship confiscated. They will be conveyed to the nearest key world where this unpardonable situation can be appropriately discussed and analyzed. Without a doubt, penalties will be incurred. What they have done beggars polite annotation. I myself have heard stories of such things, but never thought them more than rumor or anecdote. I certainly never expected, in the course of my career, to encounter evidence of them in person. To find such unpleasantness verified is most disheartening.”
“Then we’re free? We’re not going to be returned to the Vilenjji’s detention?” Having heard it implied, George now wanted to hear it spelled out.
A gracious Tzharoustatam readily complied. “From this moment on, within the recognized limits of galactic civilization, you are not bound by the dictates or whims of any minds other than your own, yes. As for matters of custody, it is the Vilenjji who now
find themselves so classified. They will be turned over to the appropriate authorities for additional processing. Whatever the outcome of any formal investigation into their activities, I believe I can assure you with some confidence that your status cannot possibly be reverted.”
Overcome with emotion, George dropped to the floor. Gently, Walker reached down and picked him up, carrying him in his arms as they continued onward.
Once again they found themselves ushered into an intraship conveyance. This time, Walker tingled as much with anticipation as from the effect generated by the transport. When they finally emerged, George had recovered his emotions enough to once more walk unaided.
They were in a large domed chamber. Several dozen Sessrimathe were already there, arranged in double rows. All were armed. They were not what caught his attention, however. Standing out amidst all the familiar whiteness, the bowl of the dome overhead exploded with color. It was a landscape, the likes of which Walker had never encountered. Pinnacles of crystal glistened above rivers the color of antimony. Streams of liquid metal roared and tumbled beneath an angry red-orange sky. The spectacular moving images that filled the bowl depicted a world as alien and inhospitable as it was beautiful. Its purpose might be decorative, or instructive, or intended to awe: He knew not. He was entranced. So much so that Braouk had to prod him with an appendage, the gentle nudge nearly knocking Walker off his feet, when the first Vilenjji were brought in.
They moved with the same side-to-side, shuffling gait he had come to know and loathe so well. As ever, it was impossible to tell just by looking at them what they might be thinking or feeling. The moon eyes in the tapering skulls stared unblinkingly straight ahead, as if their present situation and those responsible for it were of no consequence. Their arms, with their powerful sucker-laden flaps, were fastened to their sides by unseen devices. A taste of their own medicine. Seeing his abductors bound if not exactly shackled filled Walker with quiet glee.
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