Lost and Found (25 page)

“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 now, 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.

His satisfaction was multiplied by the fact that the once all-powerful Vilenjji had been reduced to such a state by beings far smaller than themselves. As everywhere else on their enormous ship, active, efficient Sessrimathe were everywhere: quietly but firmly directing the detainees toward one of several distant portals, urging the occasional laggard onward, gesturing with Sessrimathe-sized weapons that Walker had no doubt could wreak destructive havoc entirely out of proportion to their unpretentious size. The more he saw of the Sessrimathe, the more he liked and admired them, and not only because they were responsible for liberating him and his friends from the Vilenjji. In contrast to the latter they were, as even Sque might grudgingly be forced to admit, an altogether civilized people.

As they passed in involuntary review, only one or two of the Vilenjji bothered to look up at those who had taken them into custody. Supercilious as ever, it was possible they had not yet fully come to terms with their forcibly altered status. One alien happened to let his glance fall upon the four former inventory. George shrank from that morbidly implacable gaze, while Walker and Braouk were of one mind, eager to respond with violence. Only Sque was unmoved, rendered immune to that unblinking stare by her own incorrigible sense of self-importance.

When the Vilenjji addressed them, it was with an understated confidence that chilled Walker’s blood far more thoroughly than any overt display of anger or aggression would have.

“I, Pret-Klob, note a setback that will result in a regrettable downward projection of profits for the forthcoming fiscal period. The association will be forced to modify its most recent fiduciary forecast. A temporary setback only, as are all such for the Vilenjji. It is not unknown for Sessrimathe zeal to be misplaced. This is one such instance. Be assured that in the realness of time, the natural order of things will be restored.” The owlish alien eyes seemed almost apologetic. “It is only business.”

Emboldened by the alien’s restraints, George stepped forward. “Yeah, well, we’re free and you’re walking around with your forepaws glued to your ribs. Chew on
that
bone for a while!”

Infuriatingly, the Vilenjji did not deign to reply to the small barking creature that was so clearly beneath it both physically and mentally. Escorted by armed Sessrimathe, Pret-Klob was led out of the receiving area in the company of the rest of his intractable association members. When the last of them had vanished through a far portal, Walker turned to Tzharoustatam.

“What’s going to happen to them now?”

Patches and stripes of intense blue and pink shimmered against the white background of the Sessrimathe’s immaculate attire. “They will be delivered to the nearest world capable of hearing the charges against them. There they will be prosecuted according to the principles of general civilized law. Their vessel has been impounded and is in the process of being thoroughly searched, both to free any additional abductees who may be held elsewhere and to accumulate evidence against your captors. You need no longer fear them.”

Leaning forward, Braouk extended all four massive upper appendages in the Sessrimathe’s direction. “Hardly we know, how thanks to give, our liberators.”

Tzharoustatam responded with a gesture making use of all three arms that was as graceful as it was self-effacing. “Civilization stands on the willingness of those who back up its principles with more than words. What we did was done not expressly to release you and the others but to uphold those values. You may regard your restored freedom as an ancillary benefit.”

Walker did not give a damn about Sessrimathe motivations. What mattered were the consequences. The Vilenjji were under arrest, and he and his friends were free. Free to return
home.
In the course of his work as a commodities trader he had encountered and utilized more than his share of four-letter terminology, but none more appealing than that one.
Home.
Never in his life had he ever imagined so small a word capable of encompassing so great a multitude of meanings, so vast a universe of expectation.

Invigorated by the prospect, buoyed by the sight of the arrested Vilenjji, he did not hesitate to put into words the obvious request—one that surely needed only to be spoken to be fulfilled, and to set the relevant course of action in motion. If it wasn’t already.

“So, Tzharoustatam—I’m assuming your people may want to talk to us some more, might have some additional questions regarding our former unhappy situation, but I’m sure you don’t mind my asking—when can we go home?” He felt his companions close around him, waiting expectantly for the Sessrimathe’s answer.

Tzharoustatam considered each of their attentive faces in turn. His tripartite gaze enabled him to do so quickly. “Yes, there will be additional queries. But they should be perfunctory. After that, you may go home whenever you wish.”

Unable to stand the happiness, a giddy George began running circles around his companions. Struggling to suppress his emotions, Braouk launched into a murmured recitation of the glorious central stanza from the Epic of Klavanja. Looking for someone to high-five, Walker was forced to stay his hand, since there were none to meet it. Only Sque exhibited no elation, restrained by a natural reticence and . . . something else.

“It is good to hear you say that.” She had to raise her voice in order to be heard above the ongoing celebration. “Naturally, the return of those so boorishly removed from their homes will start with those adversely impacted individuals who represent the most highly developed species.” Without a trace of embarrassment she added humbly, “That would be me.”

Whatever Tzharoustatam thought of this assertive display of alien ego he kept to himself. Before any of the K’eremu’s companions could object, voice their outrage, or laugh out loud, the Sessrimathe responded.

“There may be moderating issues of distance and location involved. Astrophysics is not my realm, and I am not qualified to comment on such. However, I am certain the wishes of all will be fulfilled. All you have to do is provide Navigation with the necessary coordinates.”

George’s woolly brows furrowed sharply. “Coordinates?”

“Of your homeworlds.” All three of the kindly Tzharoustatam’s oculars inclined toward the dog. “Obviously, we cannot make arrangements for your return home until you show us where your homes lie.”

Walker swallowed uneasily. Having been exposed to the immensity of the Sessrimathe ship, having been witness to the efficiency with which they had taken control of the Vilenjji vessel and its crew, he had automatically assumed it would be no problem for such a sophisticated and technologically advanced species to convey him and his friends back to their birth-worlds. To Earth. It was now apparent that there was one small hitch.

They did not know the way.

“Records,” Sque was saying. “Implacably efficient, the Vilenjji would have recorded the location of every world they visited, whether they carried out an abduction there or not. The requisite spatial coordinates will be contained within their instrumentalities.”

Of course, a relieved Walker realized. Abductees such as himself and his companions constituted the equivalent of stick pins on a map somewhere within the depths of Vilenjji records. It was only a matter of looking them up.

If only.

“Unfortunately,” a regretful Tzharoustatam had to tell them, “the Vilenjji are indeed as efficient as you say. They have apparently been meticulous in their wiping of every relevant record relating to their illicit activities. The preliminary search, at least, of their onboard storage facilities has produced nothing but an emptiness as all-embracing as the vacuum outside this ship. Not only are there no coordinates that could point the way to the worlds they have visited, there are no records of even the most basic shipboard activities. Nothing. From the standpoint of available records, the Vilenjji craft gives all the appearance of having been operating in a void.” Concerned and compassionate citizen of a wide-ranging civilization that he was, the Sessrimathe tried to offer some hope.

“None of you has any notion of where your world might lie within the galactic plane?”

The group silence that ensued showed that they did not. Not even the erudite K’eremu could be more specific than to suggest that her homeworld lay within the inner half of one galactic arm. The K’eremu name for that arm, of course, meant nothing to the Sessrimathe.

“There are only two main arms.” Tzharoustatam was trying to put the best possible light on the increasingly unpromising situation. “It would help considerably if we knew in which one your homeworld resided.”