The constant movement of all four tails coupled with the fact that her crest was fully erect indicated that the Niyyuuan astronomer was in a state of great excitement. Indeed, the words spilled so swiftly from her perfectly round, painted mouth that Walker and George’s Vilenjji translator implants were unable to keep up, and they had to indicate via gestures that she slow down.
Swallowing, she composed herself and began again. “We have it!” she exclaimed in a voice grating enough to put teeth on edge.
“That’s swell,” declared George phlegmatically. “What do you have?”
“That which we been seeking on yous behalf.” Walker had to lean back as one excitedly waving two-fingered hand nearly accidentally smacked him in the face. “Thankings to Guild of Hyfftian Astronomers”—and she turned just long enough to wave in Ussakk’s direction—“we have been able to lay out likely vector leading toward homeworld of great storyteller Braouk.”
A sudden surge of mixed emotion tore through Walker. “You’ve actually located Tuuqalia?”
The rapid twitching of her tails slowed and her crest half collapsed. “Well, not world itself. Hyfftian astronomers not know that star’s location for certain. But are confident is correct stellar neighborhood. We take yous there, should not be difficult locate Tuuqalian system. More than probable, less than impossible.” Reaching out, she rested one hand on Walker’s upper right arm and stroked him in the familiar, reassuring Niyyuuan manner. “Is best news have had for you since triangulation of original electromagnetic waves alluding to location of Hyff, yes?”
“I’m happy for Braouk” was all the dog would mutter.
Walker tried to raise both their spirits. “We should be more than happy, George. If we can find Tuuqalia, not only can we return Braouk to his people, but based on the time each of us spent on the Vilenjji capture ship, we can hopefully calculate backward and find indications of Earth. And K’erem,” he added hastily. “Also, for all their adherence to ancient traditions, Braouk insists that his kind are a scientifically advanced species. They might know right where to look for Earth and K’erem.”
“I know, I know,” the dog muttered, rubbing his backside against Walker’s right leg. “But there’s no guarantee of it, either.” Tilting back his head, he looked up at the newly energized Niyyuuan astronomer. “Nothing personal, Sobj-oes. You’ve been a great friend. But there’s no denying we’re locked in a race between finding our homeworlds and the inevitable steady increase in homesickness among the crews of your ships. Given eternity, we’d for sure find our way home. But none of us have that luxury. And besides discontent among the crews, there’s the matter of finding a way back to Earth within our individual life spans. I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but dogs don’t live as long as humans.” He looked to his left. “Or K’eremu, or Tuuqalians.” He dropped to his belly and put his head down on his forepaws. “It’s an inequitable universe, Marc.”
“Don’t I know it,” his friend concurred with feeling. “I once placed an advance order for ninety thousand liters of pineapple concentrate at twenty-two cents a liter, only to have the price halve over the weekend before I could dump the stuff.”
Raising his head, the dog snapped at something small, hard-shelled, and airborne. “That’s terrible, just terrible. How can the threat of being lost forever among the stars possibly compare?”
Walker ignored his friend’s sarcasm. “Show some faith, George. We’re on our way again, and this time we’ve got a destination. A real destination.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. Somewhere in space probably light-years across, where the homeworld of a race of oversized saga-spinning sometime-berserkers may or may not be waiting to be found. I’m aquiver with anticipation.”
Refusing to let himself be baited, Walker let his gaze wander back to the beach below where they were standing. The Hyfftian commandos who had emerged from the water were chittering and chirping excitedly among themselves, comparing notes and swapping suggestions. Nearby, their two officers continued in animated conversation with Sque. The K’eremu was only too happy to deliver herself of her superior knowledge.
They might not exactly be going home, Walker told himself as he looked on, but for the first time since leaving Niyu, at least they were going someplace.
Month-slices later, as they prepared to board the shuttlecraft waiting on the tarmac of Pedwath Port for their final departure from Hyff, Walker found himself overcome by his surroundings. Given the way the Hyfft had treated them from the beginning of their relationship, he and his friends had expected some kind of formal send-off. But nothing like this. Not on such a scale.
On Earth, a similar formal ceremony of departure might have involved a brass band and massed salutes from ranks of smartly uniformed soldiers. While the Hyfft possessed sophisticated musical instruments, their tradition favored something closer to a cappella singing. Except that it wasn’t singing.
But it surely was enchanting.
Standing shoulder to furry shoulder, two thousand elegantly attired Hyfft brought forth from their small throats a meticulously modulated harmony that sounded like a cross between a gigantic covey of songbirds and an equal number of enthusiastic kittens all clamoring together in chorus. The resultant exquisite sound waves induced delectable vibrations in his inner ears. Nearby, the massive Braouk was swaying almost gracefully in time to the lilting tones while Sque’s undulating tentacles were nearly as upright and alert as George’s ears. Only the Niyyuu, as personified by Sobj-oes and the last of the departing warriors of her kind, seemed variously immune or indifferent to the mesmerizing drone. That was not surprising, Walker realized, if one knew that their “music” tended as much to dissonance as did their language.
A deeper roar began to overwhelm the magical vocalizing. Arising in the east, it drew steadily nearer and more profound, until a hundred Hyfftian aircraft roared by overhead in a formation so precise and tightly packed it would have left a comparable gathering of human aviators openmouthed with awe. As they thundered past, they released something from their internal holds. The drop darkened the sky. It consisted of small objects in every shade, in all colors of the rainbow.
As the components of the release reached the ground, Walker reached up and out with a hand to catch a few of the first flowers. Perhaps the massed aircraft also sprayed the airport area in passing, or possibly the attendant perfume that now filled the air arose only from the flowers themselves. Whatever the source, the mild tang of Hyff’s sea air, milder than that of Earth’s oceans, was rapidly suffused by a diversity of aromas that bordered on the sensuous. Walker felt himself growing dizzy with the all-pervading fragrance. George had to cover his besieged nostrils, while Sque was largely immune to the effect. Braouk, however, was all but floating on the runway. The sight of the hulking Tuuqalian tipsy with sensory overload brought a broad smile to Walker’s face.
Surprisingly, there were few speeches. Some succinct, well-considered words from the local dignitaries they had worked with: the Delineator of the Day for Pedwath, her counterpart from Therapp, the representative of the Great Government itself, and a few more, and then the official farewell finished in a flurry of final refrains from the massed chorus of costumed chanters, visitors and hosts alike drenched in perfume both olfactory and sonic.
Walker had turned and was making his way together with George toward the boarding ramp of the last shuttle when several figures came scurrying toward them out of the crowd of assembled dignitaries. Still sated with pleasure from the effects of the farewell ceremony, he maintained his smile as he identified Yoracc the venerable Historian and Ussakk the Astronomer among them. The other two, whom he did not recognize, wore the practical and readily recognizable garb of officialdom. In contrast to the rest of the crowd, they looked neither happy nor sad. Only oddly unsettled.
Out of breath, they slowed as they approached Walker and his friends. At this point the four Hyfft exchanged glances, as if trying to decide who should be the first to speak. Though in an irrepres
sibly ebullient mood, Walker was more than ready to depart.
“Come on, then,” he chided them fondly. “If this is a last-minute presentation, let’s get it over with. Time favors the punctual.”
“Time favors no one, least of all the unlucky Hyfft,” Ussakk chittered via his translator. Reaching into his pouch, he removed a small piece of equipment. Though its lensor was small, the image it generated filled the space between Hyfft and visitors.
At first, nothing was discernible but stars. Then the resolution improved, the field of view shrank, and a small dot in the upper left-hand region of the projected image resolved itself into a gas giant of modest proportions.
“Avuuna, on the outskirts of the system of Hyff,” Ussakk explained.
“Avuuna, we’ll be passing you soona,” George crooned—but no one was paying any attention to him. The atmosphere around the little knot of Hyfft and visitors had quickly turned solemn.
“This was recorded only a few day-slices ago by the automated scientific station that orbits Avuuna.” Ussakk adjusted his equipment one more time.
There were five of the ships. They were sleeker than those of the Niyyuu, and considerably more so than that of the highly advanced Sessrimathe. Their comparative slenderness was only relative, since every starship design Walker had seen, including that of the Vilenjji, involved combining different sized and shaped sections to create the final vessel. In space, there was no functional reason to streamline enormous craft that were never designed to touch down on a world’s surface.
Even within the sharp resolution of the three-dimensional projection it was impossible to estimate the relative sizes of the incoming vessels, since there was nothing familiar to measure them against. Walker was assured by Ussakk that readings made by the automatic scientific station indicated they boasted approximately the same dimensions as the starships of the Niyyuu. Though some superficial changes were visible, they were irrefutably the descendents of their predecessors. As to fighting ability, neither Ussakk nor the pair of officials who had accompanied him and Yoracc could say. Never having been able to confront the Iollth in space, the Hyfft had no knowledge of what the invaders’ combat capabilities might be in such an environment.
“I not a military person,” Sobj-oes observed thoughtfully, “but as yous know, all Niyyuu participate in traditional fighting between realms. From what little I know, it seem unlikely such a force, representing such an aggressive society, would travel unprepared to defend selves against advanced as well as more primitive societies.” She gestured in the direction of the attentive Hyfft. “No insult to yous selves is meant by this observation.”
“We are aware of our psychological as well as our technological deficiencies,” Yoracc snapped back. “The question before us is, what do we do about them?”
“You’re sure they are Iollth?” Walker queried the historian.
“No question.” Shoving a stubby, four-fingered hand into the projection, the historian stirred starships. “Despite some apparent modifications, the basic designs are unmistakable, and correlate accurately with the pertinent historical records.” Retreating slightly so he would not have to crane his neck as sharply, he looked up at Walker. “You’ve trained many of our people. You have provided us with some weapons. Unfortunately, the designs for more effective devices have yet to be fully implemented.”
“What will you, bereft of further assistance, do now?” Braouk rumbled from behind Walker.
The mordant historian snorted and turned away. “Pay. Do what we have always done—give the Iollth what they want. Some Hyfft will die. That is how it has always been. If we had more time, time to build some of the more powerful weapons whose designs your Niyyuu have provided to us, we might be able to give them a surprise.” Tired, he rubbed first one ear, flattening it against the top of his head, and then the other. “Either way, I’ll be dead before that happens.”
While the historian had been replying to the Tuuqalian’s question, Sobj-oes had been conferring with an officer of her own kind. Now she leaned apologetically toward Walker.
“Word has come down from the Jhevn-Bha,” she explained, referring to the Niyyuuan command ship. “The five incoming vessels now also been detected by instruments on board our own vessels.” Her muscular, toothless round mouth paused fully open for a moment before she continued. “If our instruments can sense them, it reasonable at minimum suggest theirs can now also detect us. Gerlla-hyn urges conclusion of this ceremony and return to Jhevn-Bha with all possible speed.”
“I’m there,” barked George tersely as he started for the beckoning rampway. Having preceded him, Sque was already at the top. Only Braouk and Walker, together with Sobj-oes and a couple of Niyyuuan officers, had yet to board.
As he started to turn, he was struck by a sudden change in the atmosphere. Hitherto politely boisterous, the assembled multitude of Hyfftian performers, delegates, and dignitaries had gone eerily hushed. Plainly, word of the Iollth’s arrival in their system had seeped out and worked its way through the crowd. A morning of radiant happiness was dissolving into an afternoon of silent despair.
Dozens, then hundreds of silent faces turned from their neighbors. Not all, but a great many, came to rest on the few figures that were bunched together beside the Niyyuuan landing craft. Walker had to force himself to turn away. They were alien visages, all of them. Unthreatening to be sure, but also unhuman. He was not responsible for them. Ultimately, and especially these past few years, he had come to be responsible only for himself, and perhaps to a certain small extent for George.
“We really must go.” Shorter than the average Niyyuu and therefore no taller than the human standing beside her, Sobj-oes was able to reach a flexible arm around his shoulders without having to bend over to do it. “Nothing can do here. Not good be caught on this surface when these Iollth arrive.”
“Why not?” Walker muttered even as he let the astronomer lead him toward the waiting shuttle. “We have nothing against the Iollth, and they have nothing against us.”
“That true enough,” she agreed softly. “But is likely to be some fighting, however short-lived, and munitions not particular about who happen to be standing in their vicinity when they go off.”
Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be urged toward the landing ship, up the ramp, and into the portal. Pausing there, he looked back. From the slightly higher vantage point he was able to see better over the heads of the crowd. It was slowly, silently, and efficiently disbanding, each individual Hyfft shuffling toward specified departure points or waiting conveyors. There was no panic; no screaming and wailing, no flailing of limbs or pounding of diminutive chests. The air that had settled over the tarmac and nearby buildings was one of poignant acceptance. Having suffered the same impending, destructive fate multiple times previously, the Hyfft were sadly and stoically preparing to meet it and survive it once more. The attitude of the crowd was heartrending in its resignation. No doubt some among them, like the bitter historian Yoracc, expected to die in the coming day-slices as part of the customary carnage wreaked by the Iollth.
Then he was inside the landing ship. He was still staring out at the civilly dispersing throng as the door cycled closed. A concerned Sobj-oes guided him to his modified thrust chair. Moments later, engines thundered as the shuttlecraft lifted from the surface of doomed Hyff, carrying him and his friends and the last of the visiting Niyyuu toward their waiting starships, and to safety.
For all its spaciousness and modern galactic comforts, the Jhevn-Bha no longer seemed quite so welcoming. It had been home and refuge to Walker and his friends for many months, but after so much time spent on the surface of Hyff, among the congenial inhabitants of that world, the interior of the great starship now seemed cramped and cold. The novelty of both the vessel and its method of travel had become little more than commonplace.
From what little he knew of the motion picture business, Walker found himself comparing travel by such means to the making of movies. With film, he had re
ad, actors spent most of their time standing around waiting for a scene to be set up. Then a minute or even less of filming was followed by more hours of set adjustment, makeup, camera positioning, and so on. It was the same with interstellar travel: long weeks of travel cooped up in a ship, during which nothing happened, until one reached the next destination. There wasn’t even a chance of hitting an iceberg.
How quickly we humans become jaded, he found himself thinking as he made his way through the access corridor. The Incas were startled and amazed to see men riding on horseback, and thought at first that man and horse were both part of the same outlandish animal. Today their descendants mounted and rode horses without thinking. Later there was the automobile; a shock and wonderment at first, now nothing more than another tool, like a hammer or a screwdriver. Then came air travel; initially restricted to the rich and powerful, today as ordinary a means of transportation as the car. And how had civilization survived without the computer and the internet?
Now here he was, a few years removed from taking taxis and trains to get around Chicago, and already he was bored with interstellar travel. A means of transportation that any scientist on Earth would have given years of their life to experience if only for an hour or so, and he was living it every day. Of course, he didn’t have a clue how it worked, and was not even particularly interested in the details. As the old movie said, you turned the key, and it goes.
I’ve changed, he thought as he turned a corridor, and not just because his professional specialty was now food preparation instead of commodities trading. It struck him that he also no longer thought much about the aliens among whom he now lived. Not as species, anyway, but only as individuals. Tuuqalians, K’eremu, Niyyuu. The Hyfft. The vile Vilenjji and the sophisticated Sessrimathe. All the different, diverse, sometimes bizarre races he had been compelled to encounter and deal with. No other human being existed in such circumstances. There was only him, Marcus Walker of Chicago, son of George Walker the retail salesman and Mary Marie Walker the schoolteacher. The closest thing he had to human companionship was his dog, George. Or as George would have put it, the closest thing he had to canine companionship was his human, Marc.