H yperspace, doublespace, inside-out space: the name for the continuum they were passing through translated differently depending not only on whether one was speaking with Niyyuu as opposed to Iollth, but on specific moments in time and transition. Elsewhere, George took to calling it. Whether standing still or traveling at speed by starcraft, it was the place he and his human had been consigned to ever since their abduction from Earth.

“It doesn’t matter, Marc,” the dog declared as they made their way toward the central command room. “Wherever we are, it’s someplace we shouldn’t be.”

“Not true.” Walker nodded to a passing Iollth avatar as the perambulating image of the squat creature floated past them. Similar ancient and traditional martial interests had gone a long way toward relaxing the initial tension between the tormentors of the Hyfft and their Niyyuuan conquerors, so much so that electronic avatars of both species were now allowed to visit one another’s ships.

“We are someplace definite,” he told his friend. “We’re on our way home.”

The dog let out a derisive snort. “Our way home? We’re on our way to Tuuqalia, and that if we’re lucky. Earth is still nothing more than a word. And if we don’t find Tuuqalia, we’ll probably have to go all the way back to Hyff and start all over again—or even back to Niyu.” He snapped at an imaginary passing fly. “Intellect notwithstanding, what I wouldn’t give for the comfort of a sweet bitch and an old bone.”

Mentally drifting, Walker nearly murmured, “Me too,” before the detailed meaning of his friend’s words sank in. “Steak,” he mumbled. “Real coffee. No more synthetics.”

“We’ve arrived,” George prompted him, breaking into his companion’s reverie. “Better pack in useless thoughts. No drooling in the command center.”

Gerlla-hyn and Sobj-oes were waiting for them. The Niyyuuan Commander-Captain’s frill was taut and his tails were quivering, while the astronomer was clearly straining to contain herself. Above them, multiple levels of Niyyuuan technicians worked at mobile consoles, the design of their workspace reflecting the vertically inclined aesthetic of their kind. A Niyyuuan worker was more comfortable above or below colleagues than beside them.

Though no more unpleasant than that of any other of his kind, Gerlla-hyn’s voice still grated on Walker’s ears. He was not used to the sound of Niyyuuan voices—and never would be. Such acceptance was beyond the aural tolerance of any human. But he and George had both learned to endure the persistent scraping noises that emerged from the slender Niyyuuan throat to form the terse, brusque speech of their kind.

“Wonderful news!” The Commander-Captain’s obvious enthusiasm somewhat allayed the shock to Walker’s ears. “We have pick up strong signals that yous large friend Braouk has identified as belonging his people.” Twirling gracefully, Gerlla-hyn gestured toward a large floating readout. It responded to his prompting with symbols and ideographs that were as alien as ever to Walker. But there was no mistaking the diagram of a star system upon which all manner of lines devolved.

George sniffed the readout. It had no odor. “Tuuqalia?”

“We hope so. Signalings have been tracked to the fourth world in.” Thrusting one of the two long fingers on his left hand into the readout, the Commander-Captain stirred the promising mix. “Am informed by Braouk signalings could be coincidental, or from visiting Tuuqalian ship, but volume and strength of same suggests planetary origin.”

“Latest available schematics have been provided yous oversize companion,” a visibly pleased Sobj-oes informed them. “Distance makes impossible for him to render opinion on surrounding starfield. Is complicated by fact that he not astronomically inclined himself.”

“A simple soul, our Braouk,” Walker murmured as he watched George wander around behind the readout. “I’m sure I couldn’t identify my own system from a light-year or two out.” He eyed Gerlla-hyn. “So what you’re saying is, essentially, we won’t know if this is for real until we get there?”

“Ably put, Marcus.” Sobj-oes consulted the slim reader that resided in her hands so often Walker would not have been surprised to learn it was surgically affixed to its owner. “Will emerge into normal space soon and initiate formal contact. Friend Braouk says his people a developed, space-going species, though not as avid travelers as Sessrimathe. Must ensure upon emergence that is no confusion as to our intentions.”

Walker frowned. “Why would there be? As soon as they learn of our purpose in coming here, they’re sure to—”

George interrupted him, his words sage and knowing. “When a strange dog wanders into your neighborhood, Marc, you check him, or her, out. When a strange pack wanders in, you raise your hackles, show your teeth, growl, and prepare to run or stand your ground.” One upraised paw indicated the small sphere that represented their destination. “Not being able to run, the inhabitants of this world, be they Tuuqalian or anything else, are likely to do the latter.”

The dog’s opinion was supported by Gerlla-hyn. “If one ship is detected emerging into normal space of system, would be likely no notable reaction on part of locals. But are now eight ships escorting you and yous companions. Is number unusual enough to be intimidating.” He cast an approving glance down at George. “Would be atypical if locals not show teeth and growl at such an appearance.” His tone then changed slightly to indicate mild puzzlement. “What are ‘hackles’?”

“Think your frill,” the dog suggested.

Three days later, the inhabitants of the fourth world of the system they were entering raised something somewhat more impressive than hackles or frill.

Braouk’s joy knew no bounds when the first transmissions aimed at the arriving Niyyuuan and Iollth ships were not only determined to be Tuuqalian in origin, but that they indeed emanated from that long-sought homeworld itself.

“So long away, from my own world, almost forgotten.” Braouk did not cry, but both eyestalks and upper tentacles trembled in tandem. It was an astonishing sight. “I can hardly believe we are actually here, nearing the homeworld.”

“After all we’ve been through,” George observed perceptively from the far side of the converted cargo area, “I can hardly believe we’re near anybody’s homeworld.”

Everyone turned their attention to Sobj-oes. The Niyyuuan astronomer had entered their private quarters to deliver the good news in person. Her frill was flushed maroon, a sure sign of excitement. It made Walker think, even at that joyful moment, of Viyv-pym-parr. An episode in his increasingly improbable past. One best forgotten, yet one he seemed unable to shake. He forced himself to focus his attention on the astronomer.

“You’re certain? We’ve been disappointed before.”

Wider even than normal, tarsier-like eyes of yellow and gold turned to him. The round, muscular mouth flexed, the words it emitted mitigating the ear-tormenting timbre of the sound.

“There no mistaking response, Marcus. Utilizing translation facilities, communications staff have already had conversation with inhabitants of fourth world this system. Is without question Tuuqalia.” Turning away from the human, she faced Braouk. “Has been explained one of their own is with us and relevant recording has been transmitted to provide credulous with proof.”

“Essential that is, to reassure my brethren, of amity.” Lowering both tentacles and eyestalks, Braouk rose from his crouch and advanced his tonnage toward the astronomer. “Nevertheless, they will not allow these ships to approach nearer than the orbit of the outer moon Suek. A natural precautionary measure.” Though they were nowhere near enough yet to Tuuqalia for the large external readout screen to show anything other than empty space, he turned longingly in its direction.

“My people should be arriving soon. All those on Niyyuuan and Iollth vessels should be forewarned. The coming confrontation is a normal response and not a hostile gesture.” While one plate-sized eye remained focused on the hovering readout, the other turned back to Sobj-oes. “It would not do to have the forthcoming greeting misinterpreted. The results could be catastrophic.”

The depth of their friend’s concern was soon illustrated by the nature of the Tuuqalian greeting to which he was referring. According to Berred-imr of the Niyyuuan command staff, no less than forty ships had risen from the vicinity of Tuuqalia to intercept the incoming force of Niyyuuan and Iollth vessels. It was by far the largest single grouping of starships Walker and his friends, or for that matter the Niyyuu, had ever encountered. Even on their arrival at Seremathenn, they had not seen so many interstellar craft assembled together in one place. What was even more impressive was their first glimpse of one such craft when it arrived and positioned itself fore of the Jhevn-bha. Even the intrepid Iollth confessed themselves to be more than a little impressed.

Being big people, the Tuuqalians had constructed big ships.

Taken together, the chain of huge blocky shapes that comprised the three conjoined lines of the Tuuqalian vessel massed more than any three individual Niyyuuan or Iollth craft. Realizing that forty of them now formed an englobement around his own ships was a daunting thought. Almost as daunting as the realization that Walker had come to think of them as “his” ships. The possessive was unintentional, he told himself. He was a nominal leader, not really in charge of anything. Gerlla-hyn was the real commander of the Niyyuuan force, and Ki-ru-vad’s dominion caste the controllers of the Iollth quintet.

First, irrepressible thoughts of an inaccessible alien female, and now an absurd mental repositioning of individual importance. He definitely needed to get home. Quickly, before his reasoning splintered any further. More than anything, he needed Tuuqalia to be Earth. But it wasn’t, any more than Seremathenn or Niyu had been, and he was going to have to deal with that.

Concentrate on your happy hulk of a friend Broullkoun-uvv-ahd-Hrashkin, he told himself. Be delighted for him that he, at least, has finally found his way home. Share in his joy. Take your mind off ridiculous and improvident thoughts. And worry about what those forty ships are capable of and might do if someone drops a wrong word or makes a wrong move.

Though the tension generated by the confrontation did not evaporate entirely on board the ships of the Niyyuu and the Iollth, it diminished considerably once the commanders of the Tuuqalian vessels were able to see and communicate directly with one of their own. As Braouk told his story, suitably embellished with the emblematic oratorical flourishes of his kind, Walker and George found themselves growing increasingly weary from the impassioned but interminable recitation. They had heard it all before, not to mention having experienced it for themselves. Eventually even the Niyyuuan staff in the command room turned to other pursuits as the energized Tuuqalian in their midst rambled on and on. Meanwhile the audience of his own kind listened raptly and apparently without boredom to the never-ending transmission.

Once again, Sque had been ahead of her friends. Envisioning the nature of the initial communication that was likely to take place between Braouk and his kind, the perceptive K’eremu had remained behind in their quarters, happily brooding in her custom-rigged misting pool. The longer Braouk rambled on, the more Walker wanted to join her himself.

Feeling a tug at his lower leg, he looked down to see George pulling at the hem of his pants. As soon as he had the human’s attention, the dog released his grip and whispered urgently.

“At this rate we’ll all die of old age before loopy eyes here finishes his story—let alone before we can start looking for Earth again.”

Walker crouched down beside his friend. “We can’t just cut him off in mid-speech,” he murmured softly while the Tuuqalian orated on. “This is his story. His saga.” He indicated the main viewer, which showed several senior Tuuqalians hanging in evident ecstasy on Braouk’s every word. “Interrupting wouldn’t only be impolite; it might damage our relations with his kinsfolk. We need to get off on the right foot here. We’re going to need the help of their astronomers if we’re going to have a chance of locating Earth from here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the dog muttered sullenly. His gaze returned to their oversized companion. As Braouk held forth, his four massive upper tentacles gestured energetically enough to generate a small breeze in the command room. When combined with the movement of his eyestalks, the effect was almost dizzying. “But if he doesn’t shut up pretty soon, I’m going to pee on one of those four lower limbs. Let’s see how he works that into his ‘saga.’”

Fortunately, George never had to carry out his threat. After only another two hours of endless declamation, Braouk’s floridly embellished tale of abduction and final return reached the point where he and his friends and allies had entered the Tuuqalian system and encountered the wary armada sent forth from his homeworld to meet them. All that remained, Walker supposed, was for them to be escorted into orbit around Tuuqalia itself, for Braouk to be warmly received by his brethren, and for the visitors to make application to whatever passed for a professional association of local astronomers to ask for their help in locating distant Earth.

Ignorant as he was of Tuuqalian society, he could hardly be blamed for being so sanguine. Or so wrong.

From orbit, Tuuqalia was an attractive oxygen-infused world. Though slightly larger than Earth, less area was covered by ocean and sea. There were mountains, and modest ice caps, but the dominating features were endless stretches of flat plains fractured by enormous meandering rivers. Unlike Hyff, whose population was evenly dispersed among thousands of towns and small cities, Tuuqalia boasted some extensive urban concentrations. While serving as centers of manufacturing and culture, however, they were not home to the majority of citizens.

Long centuries of the population management that had allowed Tuuqalian society to thrive without having to deal with the threat of overpopulation had also allowed the majority of its people to spread out across its endless plains. Advanced technology made work from a distance possible. Even more than the villatic Hyfft, the inhabitants of Tuuqalia favored a life in the countryside. This was no surprise to Walker and his friends. More hours than they cared to remember had been spent listening to Braouk natter on about the joys of roving his homeworld’s vast open spaces, and how he could not wait to indulge once again in that wandering that was so dear to every Tuuqalian’s heart. It was understandable, Walker knew. A species as individually outsized as Braouk’s needed plenty of room in which to roam.

Well, their hulking friend wouldn’t have to wait much longer to enjoy himself in that regard. As soon as they received proper clearance, they would all be able to stand once more on the solid surface of a habitable world, real earth under their feet and open sky above their heads. The difference was that this time, both earth and sky would belong to one of their own. After all they had been through together, it was still difficult to come to grips with the fact that one of them had actually made it home.

Which made the continuing delay in the granting of the necessary clearance all the more puzzling. Almost as puzzling as Braouk’s seeming avoidance not only of Walker, but of George and Sque as well—though Sque was just as content to be ignored as not.

Walker wasn’t. The same could be said not only for his canine companion, but for everyone else on board the Jhevn-Bha. Not to mention the Iollth, whose inherent limited capacity for tolerance and understanding threatened to destabilize an increasingly ambiguous situation. Despite being heavily outgunned by the fleet of massive Tuuqalian vessels that continued to shadow the arrivals while traveling toward their homeworld, Ki-ru-vad’s prickly caste of characters threatened to commence landings without permission and dare the locals to react belligerently. The longer they sat in orbit without that permission, the edgier became the Iollth in particular.

Walker could hardly blame them. He wanted down as much as anyone, especially when the citizens of the world below were presumed to be friendly and welcoming. But if that was the case, then why the excessive delay?

At the risk of irritating his friend, he finally felt compelled to directly confront the only Tuuqalian in their midst.

“What’s behind the continuing delay in granting us permission to visit, Braouk?” Though he tried to make his manner as forceful as possible, he knew there was no way a hundred humans could intimidate a Tuuqalian.

In spite of that reality Braouk’s reaction smacked, if not of intimidation, at least of embarrassment. All four upper tentacles drew in close around his mouth while both eyestalks contracted until the Tuuqalian’s eyes were flush against opposite sides of his trunk-like body. In that pose, he looked not only smaller, but far less alien—such a description, Walker knew, being a highly relative term.

“Yeah, what’s the holdup?” George demanded to know from somewhere in the vicinity of Walker’s knees. “We’ve had better receptions on worlds where all of us were strangers.” The dog made a rude noise. “You offend somebody important before the Vilenjji snatched you?”

Powerful tentacles fluttered in four different directions. To anyone not familiar with the three-meter-tall Braouk, the effect would have been terrifying. Walker and George were merely surprised. Despite all the time they had spent in the Tuuqalian’s company, this was a gesture they had not seen before. They did not know it, but their hulking friend was expressing extreme discomfiture.

“Seeking have I, a way to explain, this circumstance.” Eyestalks contracted even tighter into the Tuuqalian’s sides, the bulging orbs at their tips disappearing partway into matching recesses in his yellow-green, bristle-covered flanks. “It has been tormenting me even before we entered the heliosphere of Tuuq.”

“Even before…” Walker’s voice faded briefly as he digested the implication. Though no match in size for the basketball-sized orbs of the creature before them, his own eyes widened slightly. “You knew this was going to happen! How long have you known, Braouk?”

“And not told us,” George added in a huff, using a hind leg to scratch at one ear.

“Since the day we left Seremathenn with thoughts of returning to our homes,” the Tuuqalian rumbled apologetically. Seeking to soothe his companions’ injured feelings, he added hastily, “No reason needed, to inform you then, of details. A requirement is demanded of all who wish to visit Tuuqalia. None are being singled out here; not inhabitants of Earth, or of Niyu, or of Ioll.” Tentacles extended toward them, a reach for understanding. “Though desperate-dying, to touch my home, I remain. It is why I have stayed with you since our arrival, knowing that I could explain this aspect of my kind’s culture better than any who might come to greet you.”

“Some greeting.” George stopped scratching and flomped disgustedly down onto the deck.

“I see that I cannot delay any longer, no matter the cultural repercussions that may arise.”

Walker had been listening intently. He had also been thinking. “Wait a minute. What ‘requirement’? What ‘cultural repercussions’? Are you saying that unless we fulfill some kind of demand, your people won’t let us make touchdown on Tuuqalia?”

One eye, the left one, extended slightly on its stalk, reaching toward him. In the center of the massive body, the fluttering central nostril twitched in agitation. “Not only will you not be allowed to touch down if you do not comply, no Tuuqalian scientist will lift a tentacle tip to help you on your way.”

That implied threat was more than discourteous, Walker realized. It represented, potentially, the end of their journey. Without additional assistance from the Tuuqalia, he and George and Sque would have no new astronomical leads to follow. They had only managed to find Tuuqalia with the aid of the Hyfft. Without fresh insight from inhabitants of this part of the galactic arm, they would be left to search hundreds of star systems essentially at random—a task that was more than daunting. How long he could rely on the Niyyuu, much less the volatile Iollth, to continue such voyaging on behalf of him and his friends was an imponderable whose limits he devoutly wished not to have to test. Having a specific stellar destination in mind might make all the difference between being able to continue their search and its complete abandonment.

For that, they needed the help of another sophisticated star-traversing species like the Tuuqalia. And to gain that, they had to fulfill some as yet unexpressed requirement.

He took a deep breath, looked down at George, who shrugged resignedly, and put the question.

“Delaying this won’t make implementation any easier, Braouk. What does this requirement consist of? What do George and I have to do to satisfy the appropriate authorities among your people that we’re deserving of their hospitality and their help?”

The ton of Tuuqalian hesitated. Despite his size, strength, and daunting appearance, the huge alien looked for all the world like a self-conscious child who had just been caught raiding the cookie jar.

“You have to, to the authority’s satisfaction, prove yourselves.”

Though George had long ago moved beyond easy intimidation, he was ever suspicious. “Prove ourselves? How? Some kind of contest? Not wrestling, I hope. If that’s the case, I’m out.” He raised a forepaw. “No opposable thumb. Sorry, Marc.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” a suddenly concerned Walker responded. Addressing himself once more to their reluctant companion, he pushed the question. “Aside from the fact that everyone on these ships wants—no, needs—to feel solid ground under their feet again, we have to have the help and assistance of your people’s astronomers. So—what is it that we have to do? To ‘prove’ ourselves?”

Emboldened by his friends’ evident willingness to comply, Braouk was moved to explain. Time had run out anyway. The authorities had granted him more than enough time to put the demand diplomatically.

“The K’eremu are not the only species capable of unsociable behavior. My kind, too, have their pride. They do not accept, far less agree to assist, just any self-declared civilized sentients who come calling. Those who do so must demonstrate beyond doubt that they are capable of more than the construction of interstellar ships and advanced technologies. They must show that they are civilized. And not just civilized. They must demonstrate (Walker’s implanted Vilenjji translator struggled with what was unusually complex and Tuuqalian-specific terminology) sensitivity.”

Walker was taken aback. It was not what he expected. But whatever this required proof consisted of, he told himself, it had to be more amenable than wrestling.

“I’m sensitive.” George rolled onto his back, all four feet in the air, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. “See?”

Having at last put the requirement into words, Braouk was visibly as well as verbally more relaxed. “More than physical submission is required. Much more. It has always been so among my people. The Tuuqalia grant their friendship without reservation, but not easily. Furthermore, one cannot satisfy for all. A representative of each species wishing the amity and assistance of the Tuuqalia must reassure individually.” Both eyes were once more fully extended on their flexible stalks. One focused on Walker, the other on George.

“You, Marcus Walker, must act on behalf of not just yourself, but all your kind. And you for yours, George.” The eyes retracted slightly, glistening. “Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu for the K’eremu. Perhaps Gerlla-hyn, or possibly Sobj-oes, for the Niyyuu, and someone also for the Iollth. One of each.”

One time, Walker reminisced, he had been called into the office of the vice president for operations of the firm for which he worked. On arriving, he had been rattled to find not just Steve Holmes, the officer, there, but representatives of several of the firm’s major clients. Asked to give his opinion on half a dozen current world situations as they related directly to the firm’s business, he’d been subjected to half an hour of intense questioning. Even though no one said so later, he was sure his ability to survive such intense interrogation on such short notice had led directly to his last promotion.

Now he found himself in a similar situation. Only this time, much more than an increase in salary and an office with a slightly better view of the building across the street was at stake. How not only he but how George and Sque and others performed would likely decide whether he would have any chance of ever seeing that office again.

Sque’s frequent sardonic comments to the contrary notwithstanding, he felt reasonably confident he could prove that he was civilized. But—how to prove that he, and by inference humankind, was sensitive?

On later reflection, he realized he should have guessed.

“Now that I have finally been able to say these things to your faces,” Braouk was telling them, “I will make the necessary arrangements. One each will be conveyed to the surface. One each to represent their own species. One each to prove they are fit to touch Tuuqalian soil.” Eyes drew back and tentacles stiffened. “There is no way around this requirement.”

“And if we blow it?” George asked.

Both orbs swiveled in the dog’s direction. “Then you will have to go on your way, wherever that may be, without impacting Tuuqalian society, and without the aid of its eminent scientists. Companions though we are, companions in adversity though we have been, there will be nothing more I can do for you.”

Tuuqalian first, friend second, Walker reflected. Would it have been any different had their situations been reversed? What would wary humans have demanded of someone like Braouk to prove that he was as civilized as they? Or as sensitive?

“I cannot explain, to newcomers in advance, the requirement.” Their oversized friend was apologetic but unrelenting. “You will be informed of the details at a suitable time, subsequent to your arrival.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” George protested, having regained his feet. “How can we get ready to comply with a requirement when we don’t know what it is?”

Having lumbered forward, Braouk now gently rested the end of one tentacle on George’s shoulders. The flexible limb was quite capable of reducing the dog’s entire skeleton to splinters.

“Your ability to extemporize will comprise a significant portion of the proof,” the Tuuqalian explained unhelpfully. “One way the authority will be able to judge both your degree of civilization and species sensitivity will be by observing your reaction to their demand.”

“Thanks,” the dog replied dryly as the tentacle tip stroked his back, ruffling his fur. “I feel so much better now. Why me?” he muttered under his breath. “Why not a mastiff, or a poodle?” He cast a wan look on his human. “All I want is a bone and a warm bed.”

Walker’s lips tightened. “We’re stuck with this, George. Each of us gets to stand up not just for ourselves but for our entire species. As for me,” he drawled, “I’d rather be in Philadelphia.”

There was no one present to recognize or understand the reference, but it lightened his mood a little to say it anyway.

There was some hasty discussion among both the Niyyuu and the Iollth as to who among them might best be suited to complying with the still unspecified Tuuqalian demand. Without knowing its nature, it was impossible to determine which of their number would have the best chance of satisfying the enigmatic requirement of their gruff but hopeful hosts. Prove that they were civilized and sensitive, Walker and George had informed them. Who best among the crews of the three Niyyuuan vessels and the five Iollth ships to do that? Who was the most adaptable? Were the chosen representatives going to be expected to fight? Having watched Braouk dismantle tall, muscular Vilenjji as easily as he would a figure fashioned from Popsicle sticks, Walker preferred not even to consider that option. It wouldn’t make much sense for them to gain the approval and cooperation of the Tuuqalians if all five of those selected to justify that gain perished in the process of acquiring it.

Though Braouk was not allowed to in any way prepare or coach them for the forthcoming ordeal, it was clear that his old friend desperately wished to do so. If anything, the Tuuqalian who had been their companion during their long journeying seemed more nervous than the human, his canine companion, and the respective Niyyuu and Iollth who were eventually selected to undergo the test.

Each being the sole representative of his kind, Walker and George were spared the discussions among Niyyuu and Iollth that followed the announcement of the Tuuqalian requirement. Of course, Braouk explained, it was not necessary for a representative of either species to participate. But if Sobj-oes and her small but vital contingent of astronomical specialists were to be allowed to consult with their Tuuqalian counterparts, at least one Niyyuu also had to satisfy the unbending local tradition. Learning that one of the tall, multi-tailed beings who had defeated them at Hyff was going to make the attempt, the Iollth felt it imperative that one of their own kind participate and meet the Tuuqalian criteria as well.

Discussion among both groups led to debate, and debate to open argument. There being only one of each of them, human and canine had no choice in the matter of who was to stand for their species. That was not the case among Iollth and Niyyuu. Internal conflict threatened to delay the business further, until an exasperated Walker pointed out to both groups that they were not exactly displaying the kind of sensitivity the Tuuqalians were looking for, and that if word of the ongoing dissention reached their erstwhile hosts, the original invitation itself might be withdrawn.

Abashed by an alien whose species had not even mastered the rudiments of interstellar travel, Niyyuu and Iollth settled down to the selection of one individual to represent each of their kind. Neither recognized that Walker’s admonition to each had been based on the possible failure of the other. It was only one in a litany of techniques he had borrowed for use from his days as a trader of commodities. Tell one group that their competitors were acting in an acceptable manner while the other was not, and the first group was likely to comply with the teller’s needs. Then reverse and apply to the other, and so gain the cooperation of both.

So it was that De-sil-jimd of the communications caste was chosen to join the group that would descend to the surface with Braouk as their guide and sponsor, while Sobj-oes’s assistant Habr-wec was elected to represent the Niyyuu. Ignorant of what they were about to face, Walker thought them both good choices. It would be good to have a communications specialist among the group, as well as a representative of the astronomical team in the event the occasion arose to ask a pertinent question or obtain potentially useful information.

And while Iollth and Niyyuu had argued among themselves, and Gerlla-hyn had been forced to inform the outraged Niyyuuan media contingent that none of them would be permitted to record the confrontation, Walker strived mightily to convince Sque to participate.

“No, absolutely not.” From within the mist cloud of her perpetually damp resting place, the equivalent of a human couch, the K’eremu adamantly refused to having anything to do with the upcoming challenge. Metallic gray eyes regarded the crouching Walker mordantly. “Am I wrong in assuming that despite my continued company and occasional tutelage you have progressed insufficiently far to recognize a negative when it is presented to you?”

Gritting his teeth, Walker held his temper and persisted. “Sque, we don’t know what we’re facing here. This is as important to you as it is to the rest of us. You know what’ll happen if we don’t gain the respect and approval of Braouk’s people. No help in locating a possible line on Earth. No help in finding a vector for K’erem.”

One limb adjusted a strand comprised of bits of colored glass that ran from the smooth crown of the K’eremu’s head down her right side. It was beaded with moisture and radiant with reflected light.

“It has all the intimations of a cheap carnival, this ‘requirement.’ I refuse to debase myself to gain the sanction of a lot of bloated saga-spouting carnivores.” Half her ten slender tentacles promptly entwined themselves in a complex knot no doubt fraught with ambiguous significance.

“Technologically advanced bloated saga-spouting carnivores,” Walker reminded her coolly. “Astronomically competent bloated saga-spouting carnivores.” He straightened, looking down at her. “The bloated saga-spouting carnivores whose help we need if any of the rest of us are going to have a prayer of getting home.”

The K’eremu was unmoved. “You may perform for them however you wish and obtain the required assistance.”

Walker rolled his eyes and tried to contain his exasperation. “You know that’s not going to work. They want to pass on every species, and they already know there’s a K’eremu on board because Braouk told them about you.”

An unoccupied tentacle splashed water on argent eyes. “Always noise-making, that one.” Bubbles formed at the end of her speaking tube, eventually to break free and wander off into the enclosed atmosphere of the room; visual punctuation. Another tentacle swung to the right and picked up a small, tightly sealed square container. An integrated readout on its exterior divulged the contents. It was where Sque kept her stock of si’dana drugs—or rather, stimulants, as she preferred to refer to them.

“It would appear that I have on hand a sufficiency of synthesized chemicals to enable me to tolerate such a degrading ordeal. Even in a fog of my own making I would expect no difficulty in satisfying the stipulations of our garrulous friend Braouk’s demanding relations.” Her entire body expanded and relaxed, like a momentarily inflated balloon. “I suppose I will have to do this.”

Walker smiled. “Braouk will be delighted. He’s anxious to show us his world. All of us.”

“The lumbering sputterer of interminable singsong may not find my reluctant company quite so vitalizing. In any event, I am glad that one of us, at least, has been returned to their home.” She climbed, or rather slithered, out of the misting pool. “His kind had better be able to render unto us the kind of scientific assistance we need, or I am certain I will regret this decision for the rest of my natural days.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Walker snapped as he turned to leave. “You don’t even know what the Tuuqalian requirement for entry consists of. It might require us to do nothing more than swear some kind of mild oath not to harm local interests, or to fill out in person a form or two.” Feeling a tentacle questing along the back of his leg, he kicked it gently away. Back home, a rubbery, ropy contact like that might have made him jump a foot straight up. Over the past couple of years, he had grown used to and relaxed with touches that were even more alien.

“And stand off—I’m not Braouk, and I’m not going to carry you.”

Slithering out of the cabin and into the first corridor on all ten tentacles, Sque blew a large bubble that, when it popped, disseminated a particularly malodorous aroma. Linguistic sophistication notwithstanding, the K’eremu were perfectly capable of venturing an opinion in a nonverbal manner.