The Light-years Beneath My Feet (7 page)

“Not a contradiction, in war to engage, called civilization?” Braouk wondered aloud from the back of the transport.

She turned and strained to meet his raised eyes. “On contrary, Niyyuu thoughtfully observe other sentient species and wonder how they maintain civilization
without
occasional internal warring.”

Walker’s head began to throb as he tried to make sense of what he was being told. The Niyyuuan’s warped logic was occasioning him more pain than the occasional jolt in their ride. “You say sporadic warfare helps you to maintain your civilization, but that it’s nothing to worry about. There’s a clash of reasoning there I just don’t understand. I don’t understand it at all.”

“You will,” she assured him confidently. “You not only do peformancing for Administrator Kinuvu-dih-vrojj and government, you also prepare food for Saluu-hir-lek and his staff.”

He frowned. The first name he recognized, but this was the first time that the second one had been made known to him. “I signed on to cook for whoever you wish, but who is Saluu-hir-lek?”

“Commanding general,” Abrid-lon called back to him from the front of the transport, “and lord high protector of the conjoined territories of Kojn-umm. Very pleasant person. You will like him.”

Curioser and curioser. He was drowning in incomprehension. “I thought Kinuvu-dih-vrojj was the leader of Kojn-umm?”

Viyv-pym exhaled softly in his direction. Her breath washed over him like essence of roses. “Kinuvu-dih-vrojj, she head of government. Saluu-hir-lek, he head of traditional military. One not superior to another. Just different work taxonomy. I procurer. You exotic food preparation demonstrator. You’s friends—they receive appropriate classifications in due time.” A long, willowy arm reached out toward him.

“You tired, Marc. Long journeying from Seremathenn. Relax, not worry. Kojn-umm pleasant place. Ehbahr city and citizens enlightened, congenial. You will like it here.”

Apprehensive and anxious, he slumped back in his seat. “I’m sure I will—unless you lose this war and are overrun by your enemies.”

Her painted circlet of a mouth expanded in amusement as she coughed twice. “Perhaps lose. Have lost before. Is no realm that has not. Could not manage world society otherwise. But Kojn-umm not be ‘overrun,’ in sense you suggest. Cannot happen.”

“Why not?” he asked straightforwardly, without wondering if the question might be viewed by his hosts as tactless.

“Because would not be civilized thing to do. You think Niyyuu barbarians? Not as advanced as Sessrimathe, maybe, but plenty civilized and refined are my kind. You will see. Maybe even,” she finished considerately, “you like try you’s hand at fighting, too, someday.”

Walker was quietly aghast. “I agreed to come here to create cuisine, not to kill!”

She gestured placatingly. “Is your choice. Did not mean upset you. Is not necessary participate. Very much competition for spaces in traditional military, anyway.”

He sat stunned and silent, unable to believe what he was hearing. It was so at odds with everything he had come to believe about the Niyyuu. Or, he told himself, was it only what he had
wanted
to believe about the Niyyuu? Had he settled hopes and expectations on Viyv-pym and her people that were grounded only in wishful thinking?

“Have
you
fought in this war, in the military?” he finally heard himself asking.

“Oh, most for sure.” The eagerness in her voice could not be denied. “Was fortunate enough be awarded two whole full enlistment periods.”

“And         .         .         .         you killed?”

“Of course.” Golden eyes glittered with recollection as her voice quivered with suggestions of thrills remembered. “Not real war without killing.”

How could he argue with that? he told himself. For the first time since he had met her, the beauteous and exotic Viyv-pym receded once again into the realm of the utterly alien.

As was often the case, it was left to Sque to emotionlessly evaluate what they had been told. “There are ramifications here we do not understand,” she declared quietly from her hanging place in the center of the swaying transport’s ceiling. “We must work to acquire the obligatory cultural referents before we can pronounce judgment. Operating in ignorance, we cannot hope to properly assess composite indigenous conditions.”

Walker latched onto her uncertainty like an overextended client to a fresh line of credit. What the K’eremu was saying was that there was more here than met the eye, or the ear. Though for the life of him he could not fathom what that might be, he was willing to give it time in the hope that a sensible explanation would present itself.

Traversing parsecs to swap their situation on peaceful, accommodating Seremathenn for a millennia-old ongoing war was not what he’d had in mind when he had signed on hoping to improve their chances of getting home.

Often dimly illuminated, the buildings they passed differed in design, shape, and size from those on Seremathenn. Such was to be expected, since Viyv-pym had informed them that much of Niyu’s commerce took place belowground. There was certainly enough nocturnal illumination, however, to guide incoming hostile aircraft, much less anything more sophisticated. Therefore it was abundantly clear the people of Ehbahr city did not fear an assault from the air. That suggested several possibilities, none of which made any more sense to him than what he had already been told. He gave up trying to figure out what was going on and determined to wait for an explanation that did. Hopefully, one would be provided to them.

There was certainly nothing wrong with or Spartan about their quarters. Prepared in advance according to specifications supplied by Viyv-pym, they bordered on the luxurious. Having been provided with particulars by its new employees, the government of Kojn-umm had gone out of its way to make them feel at home.

Walker’s personal space on Seremathenn had been accommodating. His quarters in a luxurious section of Ehbahr city consisted of separate, spacious rooms for sitting, sleeping, receiving guests, and performing personal ablutions. Instead of a view of other transformed buildings such as he’d had on Seremathenn, he had transparent barriers that opaqued or vanished at the wave of a hand to allow egress to a porch that overlooked a small stream running through carefully maintained Niyuan forest.

Flashing multihued phosphorescent scales, small creatures of the night scampered to and fro between foliage and stream. Since the connected rooms did not boast the responsive, all-pervasive syn
thesized voice-response system of an advanced Seremathenn dwelling, he was shown how to request service from a live Niyyuuan attendant. George would share quarters with Walker, they were informed, while on casual inspection the easygoing Braouk found his private accommodations to be more than satisfactory. Upon being shown her own lodgings, which included a section of the nearby creek to provide constant moisture, even Sque had less than the normal number of complaints.

Promising to meet with them again in the morning, both Viyv-pym and Abrid-lon left the newest employees of the government of Kojn-umm to their own devices. Toying with the receiving room’s entertainment/information system, Walker found it to be as highly developed as anything he had used on Seremathenn. Neither it, nor the peacefully sleeping city, nor the attitude of the individual Niyyuu he had encountered since arriving squared with the reality of continual, ongoing combat. For about five minutes, he worried about being killed in his sleep on the special resting platform that had been provided for him. Then another kind of reality took over, and he fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.

5

W
alker sat up sharply in the approximation of a bed, awakened by something that sounded like forty chickens being simultaneously strangled. Looking around wildly for the source of the horrible screeching, he searched the entire room twice before he realized it was only the Niyyuuan equivalent of a gentle, mellifluous, preprogrammed wake-up song.

Have to have that recording changed,
he told himself shakily as he descended from the sleeping platform to manually cancel the persistent wail. No doubt more than a few of the provisions that had been made for his life here would require comparable modifications.

Passing by one of the darkened view-walls, he directed it to vanish. The energizing tingle of fresh air filled the room, accompanied by a flush of bright sunshine. Walking out onto the small porch, he found himself gazing across the nearby stream that had been only a dark sliver muttering to itself during the night. A quintet of humming furballs he did not yet have a name for bobbed past, seeking surcease, shade, and nectar. Rustlings in the underbrush on the other side of the brook hinted at the presence within of alien ground dwellers. The noises did not concern him. If any danger existed from native animals, he was certain he would have been informed.

Above and beyond the undulating crest of the carefully maintained riparian habitat he could see tall buildings rising from the center of the capital city. The Niyyuu were fond of domes and other bulbous architectural oddities; a partiality that contrasted sharply and perhaps intentionally with their own svelte forms. Beyond the glistening, well-scrubbed towers of the city, which were modest in size compared to the structures he had seen on Seremathenn, a line of mountains stretched across the horizon. No snow capped the visible peaks, an absence that might have been due to latitude, season, altitude, or a combination thereof.

“See anything?”

Turning, he saw that George had come up behind him. The dog yawned mightily, shook from nose to tail, and stretched, his forelegs extending as far forward as possible.

“Urban structures,” Walker informed his height-challenged companion. “Parklike stream and vegetation just below us. In the distance, mountains—not too high, I think.”

“No sign of fighting, uninhibited internecine bloodletting, or rampaging cadres of naturally anorexic soldiers?”

Walker returned his attention to the babbling brook and outlying buildings. “There’s something in the creek that looks agitated, but that’s about it.”

“Good. I’m hungry. Let’s find something to eat.”

Walker waved a windowlike transparency back into place before turning away from the gap. Where was evidence of the ongoing war of which Viyv-pym had spoken? “Wait. I have to get dressed.”

“I don’t.” The dog trotted energetically through a portal that opened obediently in response to his curt bark. “Meet you in the common room, or dining room, or however the appropriate place for taking meals is designated here.”

It made no sense, Walker deliberated as he fumbled with his shirt while doing his best to follow his companion. If the countryside existed in a state of perpetual war, where were the signs of concern, the hints of resistance? The city had been well lit during their arrival the previous night. Was it possible to imagine a civilization that possessed starships but not aircraft? For that matter, bombs could be dropped from balloons, but there was nothing to indicate that the people of Kojn-umm feared any attack from the air. Could the confusion he was experiencing be due to a simple misunderstanding over what he had been told? But Viyv-pym had said clearly that it was “not real war without killing.” He decided to try to set his bemusement aside. Surely clarification would be forthcoming.

George was right about one thing. He was hungry, too. Maybe food would help to alleviate the headache he was beginning to develop. And he hadn’t even started work yet. Would he need to acquire defensive attire in addition to the appropriate utensils?

The dog located a common room that fronted on a small indoor garden. None of the plants were known to either of them. Within the garden, yellow vied with green as the dominant color. One particularly distinctive growth put forth a single flower that was as long as Walker’s arm. It smelled abominable.

The synthesizer that responded to their requests had been programmed to fulfill their needs, but the equipment, while far in advance of anything that had been developed on Earth, was no match for the sophisticated instrumentalities of the Sessrimathe. Biting into a disc of pale pink something, Walker’s face screwed into an expression that was a perfect visual representation of the taste.

“If this is an example of the local cuisine,” he observed when he had choked down enough of the substance to be able to talk again, “I can see why my services are so eagerly awaited here.”

“You’re too picky, Marc. You always are.” George dug with unreserved gusto into the plate of proteins as colorful as they were unidentifiable that the synthesizer had set before him.

That left Walker to contemplate an unpalatable choice between looming starvation and distasteful consumption. As he picked at his food, Sque arrived to join them. Scuttling into the room on half a dozen of her ten tendrils, bits of polished metal and colorful plastic jangling around her body, the dripping wet K’eremu left a trail of water behind her. Preferring to remain as damp as possible for as long as possible, she had not bothered to dry herself following her most recent immersion.

Though barely four feet tall when erected on all ten tendrils, she had no difficulty pulling herself up into the chair that was intended for much taller Niyyuu. In fact, she was arguably more comfortable on the alien piece of furniture than her human companion was. Designed to accommodate the far narrower Niyyuuan posterior, Walker’s chair would have made an uncomfortable perch for any human. Constant shifting in search of a more restful position failed to find one.

“Fortunately, I have already eaten. Thank you for asking,” she snapped brusquely before anyone could venture so much as a “Good morning.” As a sign of further disapproval, several bubbles emerged from the flexible pink tube that was her mouth and rose halfway to the ceiling before bursting.

By now completely used to her moods, Walker ignored her scorn as he picked unhappily at his own food. “I assumed that you had, Sque, or you would have been demanding it as you came in.” Slipping a slice of something like slivered eggplant into his mouth, he chewed slowly and experimentally. His palate was less than impressed, but his stomach did not rebel.

I would kill,
he mused dejectedly,
for a Polish dog.
With mustard, and onions, and relish, and sauerkraut.
At the thought, his mouth manufactured saliva in quantity sufficient to impress even Sque. As for barbeque, he dared not even visualize the concept. Instead, he made himself eat another slice of alien eggplant.

To take his mind off historical impossibilities like kielbasa, he engaged the K’eremu in conversation. “How did you sleep? While they’re not as stylish as those we had on Seremathenn, I thought my quarters were pretty comfortable.”

“I did not ask your opinion,” she replied tersely. Two tendrils pulled a conical container toward her and deftly upended a sample of the liquid contents into a smaller container from which she sipped daintily before continuing. “As you observe, these Niyyuu are not as advanced as our former hosts. Neither are they especially primitive. My rooms occupy a level lower than yours. This was done intentionally, I am told, so that I might have regular and unimpeded access to the nearby stream and its refreshing, cooling flow. Such forethought expended on the comfort of a higher being is to be commended. I rested adequately, thank you.”

“And how did you find breakfast, Snake-arms?”

As always, she ignored the dog’s insult as being beneath her. “Nourishment, though synthesized as expected, was tolerated by my system. It could not compare, of course, to victuals properly prepared.” Several slender limbs gestured in Walker’s direction. “As they might have been by the primitive but gastronomically talented amateur in our company, to give but one example.”

Walker nearly choked on his next mouthful. “Are you paying me a compliment, Sque?”

Silvery eyes looked away, toward the nearest transparency that provided an external view. “Truth compels. You may proffer appropriate obeisance at a later time. I do not wish to interrupt your intake of the dreadful molecular combinations you consider worthy of ingestion.”

Walker beamed. A compliment. Sque never gave compliments. The closest the K’eremu came to praising another being was to refrain from insulting it on a regular basis. Walker hardly knew how to respond.

Defying any sense of propriety, local or imported, George hopped up onto the table and began sniffing some of the other offerings. Walker managed to look pained.

“Come on, George. Really.”

“Really what?” The dog eyed him impassively. “Really get off the table, or really relax because if I had arms and hands I wouldn’t have to do this?” Settling on a chunk of something that smelled like meat even if it looked like cantaloupe, he picked it up in his teeth and returned to his chosen spot on the floor.

They remained like that, in mutual silence, for several minutes—man and dog eating, K’eremu contemplating their primitive activity—when a sudden thought occurred to Walker. Looking up and around, he took in their immediate surroundings before venturing aloud to no one in particular, “Anyone seen Braouk this morning?”

“Not me.” George returned to his meat melon.

“I have not yet encountered the ungainly giant.” Pulling herself up onto the table, Sque took on the appearance of a kaleidoscopic calamari. Another place, another time, another set of onlookers, Walker knew, and she would be deemed dinner rather than diner. “Maybe he’s still resting in whatever warehouse-sized room our lanky hosts have made available for his use.”

As breakfast wore on without any sign of the melancholy Tuuqalian, however, Walker found himself beginning to worry. “We’d better go find him, make sure he’s okay.” He pushed back from the table and stood, glad to be free of the narrow, uncomfortable Niyyuuan chair.

“Worry about that wandering mountain?” George hopped up onto an empty chair to bring himself closer to eye level with his friend. “He worries everybody else, not the other way around.”

“I’d feel better knowing for sure that he’s okay.”

The dog snorted, considered relieving himself on one of the table supports, decided to hold off. Unlike another dog, their hosts would probably frown on such a response. “Might as well, I guess. Nothing else to do here yet anyway.”

They found the giant on the roof. In addition to a series of small domes whose function was not immediately apparent, there was a broad deck that had been landscaped with fully grown trees and shrubbery to blend perfectly with the preserved natural environment below. Though it rose to a height of only four or five stories above the ground, the edifice that had become their new home still loomed above the majority of government structures surrounding it. The deck offered a sweeping panorama of the city and the surrounding mountains.

Braouk was standing on the northwest side, careful not to put any weight against the delicate swirl of railing that in addition to being too low for him could never have supported his mass. In contrast, it was almost too high for Walker. Picking up George, he cradled the dog in his arms so his friend could also see clearly. As for Sque, her multiplicity of limbs allowed her to easily scamper up the nearest dome.

“Nice view,” George commented approvingly. “Handsome mountains. No mountains where you and I come from.”

“Is not mountains, that I stand studying, this direction.” The Tuuqalian raised a pair of powerful tentacles and pointed. “There. That outcropping or promontory, that rises just to the left of the main pass. Do you see?”

Walker strained. With his huge oculars mounted on the ends of flexible stalks, Braouk had the best distance vision of any of them. “I do see something. Some kind of building?”

“More than that.” This time the Tuuqalian pointed with all four tentacles, the tips touching to form a conical indicator. “Look again, harder.”

With a familiarity she would never have dared attempt back aboard the prison ship of the Vilenjji, Sque clambered up Braouk’s back, climbing him like a tree, until she stood atop the furry crest with one bulbous Tuuqalian eye raised on either side of her.

“I cannot see anything except these mountains. My eyesight has evolved for precision viewing, not for far-seeing.”

George had better luck. “I see smoke, and moving figures. Lots of moving figures. The structure itself is different from anything down here. Looks to be pretty big, and all sharp angles. No tapering towers, no graceful domes.”

“I believe it, to be a primitive fortress, without question.” As they drew closer together, the better to sharpen the Tuuqalian’s view, the muscular eyestalks threatened to squeeze Sque between them. “A castle, or redoubt, of primitive design. Even as we stand here watching, a battle is taking place before its gate and on its ramparts.”

“The war!” Now that Braouk had described the scene, Walker found that he was better able to discern individual elements of the distant vista. “Strange. You say that fighting is going on. But I don’t see any flashes of light, any explosions.”

“Me neither,” George added. As an indication of how seriously he took the situation, his tail was virtually motionless.

“That is because there are none,” the Tuuqalian informed them. “In keeping with the design and materials of the primitive structure that is under assault, the methods of combat being employed appear to be equally archaic. While it is difficult to tell for certain at such a distance, I think I perceive much tentacle-to-tentacle—excuse me, hand-to-hand—fighting.”

Sque gestured with several tendrils. “There is both absurdity and contradiction in what you say. Yet being unable to see clearly for myself, I am unable either to deny or confirm the validity of your observations. I declared upon our arrival here yesterday that there are ramifications to this Niyyuuan war that we do not understand. I confess I am now even more puzzled than I was originally.”