A s with all journeys between star systems, that between Tuuqalia and far-flung K’erem was interminable and boring. How quickly we become jaded to the extraordinary, Walker thought. It was no different with his own civilization. Each generation came to accept as normal and natural, if not a birthright, the unqualified miracles of its predecessor. As for himself, he was privileged, or cursed, to have come to accept as ordinary such things as interstellar travel, a multitude of sentient nonhuman races, the ability to perform gastronomic wonders with some judicious waving of his hands, and other marvels any one of which would individually have been regarded back home as the discovery of the age.
A real cup of coffee, he mused. Brewed from beans as opposed to being synthesized through advanced alien chemistry. Now that truly would be a miracle he could worship.
Having spent so much time in the company of the redoubtable Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu and listening to her never-ending descriptions of her homeworld—the finest and most engaging in the galaxy, of course—he was not surprised by his first sight of it on the internal viewer when the flotilla emerged from deepspace several AUs out. Shrouded in mostly low cloud broken only occasionally by open sky, it was a maze of thousands of small, low-lying landmasses. Not one of them was larger than Greenland, and few appeared, at least from space, much more hospitable.
Sque, on the other hand, was quietly ecstatic. “That I should have survived long enough to see such a sight once again,” she murmured as together she, Walker, and George viewed the images that central command caused to be relayed to all operative imagers. In front of them, efficiently mimicking the appearance of solidity, hovered a vision of K’erem about a meter in diameter; all gray terrain, scattered seas, and brooding cloud cover. “Is it not beautiful beyond all others, my home?”
Walker hastened to concur, leaving it to George to add, “Reminds me of a particularly gloomy alley I once had to seek shelter in during a winter storm.” Raising a paw, he indicated a lower corner of the image. “There’s something that’s not a geographical feature. It’s moving too fast.”
Sque approached as close to the image as she could without actually entering and distorting it. “A ship of my people, I should expect, coming up to meet us.”
“Wouldn’t there be orbit-to-ground communication first?” Walker queried her, frowning slightly.
She turned toward him. “I am sure the redoubtable Commander-Captain Gerlla-hyn, his contact team, and the committed communications caste of the Iollth have been attempting to do exactly that ever since we arrived within suitable range. They are, however, not as familiar with the customs of my kind as are you. Establishing contact from the surface would imply acceptance of arrival.”
“In case you and your aloof kinfolk haven’t noticed,” George commented dryly, “we’ve already arrived. It’s a fatal accompli.”
“You have only arrived physically. Until proper communication is established, you have not arrived in the minds of the K’eremu. Hence the custom of making first greeting an extra-atmospheric one.” Pivoting once more to face the suspended planetary image, she studied it anew. “Definitely a ship.”
“One ship?” A curious Walker also focused his attention on the lower corner of the image.
This time she replied without looking over at him. “One ship is enough. One ship is always enough.”
He was not surprised by her observation. From the years he had spent in her company, Walker knew that irrespective of the situation, Sque was unable to make a distinction between being completely self-assured or unreservedly overconfident. There was no in-between. Evidently, it was the same with all K’eremu.
What did surprise him, not to mention take his breath away, was the appearance of the K’eremu ship. While those of the Tuuqalia, Niyyuu, and Iollth differed in design, all were at heart functional and efficient, the end product of work by mathematicians and engineers. Rising from the cloudy surface of the planet below, the single approaching K’eremu craft was—unexpectedly beautiful.
It was not simply a matter of execution. The attention to external aesthetics was deliberate. Svelte and slippery where the construction of the visiting starships was blocky and rough, the ship looked more like the focal pendant of a gigantic brooch. Multi-hued lights of every color flashed in imaginative patterns from its molded flanks: a detail, he realized, that duplicated stylistically if not functionally the strands of metal and other materials with which Sque daily adorned her own person. Just as they contrasted sharply with her own mottled maroon skin and shape, so the artistic affectations that encrusted the gunmetal gray-black body of the K’eremu starship stood out sharply against its glossy-smooth sides. Compared to the singular sleekness of the new arrival, the space-traversing vessels of the three visiting races looked ungainly and bloated. The sheer beauty of the K’eremu craft was intimidating. He could not help wondering if the effect was intentional.
Despite its gratuitously lustrous appearance, he had no doubt it was fully functional—as would be any weapons it carried. Whether the latter could hold their own against the combined firepower of, say, twelve visiting vessels representing the apex of science as practiced within three different systems he did not know. But if it was all in the last analysis an exhibition of supreme (or foolish) overconfidence, it constituted a bluff of which any trader on the exchange back home would have been unashamedly proud.
He did not bother to inquire of Sque if that was actually the case. That was a matter for Gerlla-hyn and his fellow tacticians among the Iollth and the Tuuqalia to decide.
Perhaps not by themselves, however. Their living quarters’ communicator promptly filled the room with a request for the guest traveler Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu to please report to ship communications, so that she might aid in furthering formal contact with her people.
“Late,” she commented as she turned to comply. “The call for my assistance should have be made the instant the contact craft was detected rising from the surface.”
“Maybe sensors didn’t pick it up it until just now,” Walker pointed out as he slipped off his bed and moved to join her.
Turning to look up at him, she continued scuttling on her way. When one is equipped with ten limbs spaced equidistantly around one’s body, every point of the compass is equally easy to access.
“The contact vessel would have made its presence known immediately after liftoff, so that there would be no confusion among visitors as to its nature. That there has been no panicky shooting speaks well of our escort.” She expanded to twice normal size, then contracted. “Even at this point in time, when contact is imminent, I find it hard to countenance that I will soon be again conversing with my own kind.”
“Bet you can’t wait for it,” George declared, muting his usual cynicism.
“I anticipate it with boundless glee,” she confessed as they moved out into the corridor and started toward the section of the Jhevn-bha where Command was located. “A day or two of unbridled conversation and contact. Then travel to my own residence, that I can only hope has been preserved, followed by thorough immersion in a period of blissful extended solitude.”
Walker shook his head. Their obvious intelligence notwithstanding, it never ceased to amaze him how a species as ferociously introverted as the K’eremu had managed to build a viable civilization, much less one capable of interstellar travel. Strikingly attractive interstellar travel, if the ship that had now joined the visiting flotilla was not a deliberate aberration. Wondering if the interior was as extravagantly decorated as the outside, he hoped they might be offered the opportunity to visit.
They were not. Permission to board was explicitly refused. Indeed, Sque appeared somewhat put out by the Niyyuuan officer who ventured to make the request. The denial was not reflective, she explained, of any kind of overt hostility. As her human, canine, and Tuuqalian companions could attest, the K’eremu simply were not fond of company, under any circumstances.
Though on the face of it that observation seemed to portend difficulty in expanding further contact, the contrary proved to be the case. In fact, it was much easier to obtain permission to land on K’erem than it had been to visit Tuuqalia. While the precise nature of the permission granted was the exact opposite of effusive, the necessary formalities were executed swiftly and efficiently. Anyone who wanted to visit the surface would be allowed to do so—although in the absence of a local guide such as Sque, their movements would be severely circumscribed.
As representatives not only of the visiting vessels but of their own adverse situation, Walker and George were included in the first landing party. So was Braouk, who eagerly anticipated adding whole stanzas to his ongoing saga. Sobj-oes and her assistant Habr-wec were added along with representatives of the Iollth and Tuuqalian scientific staffs, in the hope that work could begin immediately utilizing the knowledge of their K’eremu counterparts in the search for the unknown world called Earth.
Descending to the surface via shuttle, Walker was struck by the dearth of lights on the nightside. While not actually surprised by the lack of any visible proof for the existence of urban concentrations, familiar as he was thanks to Sque with the K’eremu dislike of crowds, the complete nonexistence of any such suggested a primitive and backward society, which he knew for a fact the K’eremu were not. The construction of complex apparatus such as starships, for example, required extensive manufacturing facilities incorporating functioning high technology.
“Like our dwellings, we prefer to sequester such things below the surface,” she informed him when he inquired about the apparent ambiguity. “Also, a great deal of our industrial complex is highly mechanized. More so even than what you saw on Seremathenn.” Silver-gray eyes only slightly more vibrant than the clouds they were preparing to penetrate looked up at him. “Surely you did not envision my kind toiling away in the heat and repetition of a common industrial plant?”
Secured in a nearby landing seat that had been specially adapted to accommodate his diminutive form, George glanced over. “Yeah, Marc, what were you thinking? Imagine a K’eremu deigning to get its tentacles dirty with manual labor!”
As usual, the dog’s sarcasm was lost on Sque, who simply accepted the canine observation as a statement of fact. “Precisely the point. All such activities on K’erem have been automated for a very long time indeed. They are appropriately supervised, and provide adequately for the needs of the population.”
It certainly explained the absence of lights, Walker reflected as the rapidly descending Niyyuuan shuttle simultaneously entered atmosphere and daylight. Also the scarcity of any aboveground structures of consequence. Instead of cities, they passed low over rocky, heavily weathered islands and a few larger landmasses. Vegetation was abundant, but tended to be twisted and low to the ground. There were no jungles, no tall forests—at least, none that were visible to the shuttle’s sensors. Here and there a single, unexpectedly tall tree or analogous local growth shot skyward like a solitary spire, a dark green landmark isolated in an otherwise endless heath- and moor-like landscape.
Reflecting the want of urbanization, there did not even appear to be a designated landing facility. That only revealed itself when, in response to their arrival and patient hovering, a portion of rocky terrain irised open to divulge a dry and expansive subterranean port. Descending in response to lackluster but adequate instruction from below, the shuttle settled gently to touchdown. Engines died. After years in Vilenjji captivity and additional ones spent in sometimes hopeful, sometimes despairing wandering, Sque had come home.
Almost, Walker decided. No doubt there were still formalities to be concluded. Hopefully, they would not involve anything as intimidating as those they had been forced to deal with on Tuuqalia, or as complex as those they had adapted to on Niyu.
First impressions certainly hinted at a different approach. As they emerged from the shuttle, their formal arrival on K’erem being thoroughly documented by the ever present Niyyuuan media, Walker and his friends were greeted by—nothing. Not only was no crowd or group present to welcome one of their own back to the communal fold, there was not even a single official present to direct them to the proper office. Bemused, Walker glanced upward. Though an unseen, unsensed field of some kind kept the fine mist that was falling from entering the landing facility, the air within was still noticeably cool and damp. Optimum climate for a K’eremu, he knew, drawing his lightweight clothing a little tighter around him. Of his friends, only he felt a chill. Braouk and George both came equipped with their own built-in insulation. Still, he was not alone in his climatic sensitivity. Both the hairless Niyyuu and short-furred Iollth were similarly affected.
Scuttling to the fore, Sque called back to him and, by inference, to the rest of the landing party as well. “Please wait here a moment. It is necessary that I deal with the formalities.”
Halting halfway between the shuttle and a vitreous gray bulge in the nearest wall, she generated from her speaking tube a sequence of perfectly tuned whistles accompanied by a stream of bubbles. A portal appeared in the bulge. Slowly radiating concentric rings of force rippled through the material as the gap widened, reminding Walker of the effect he used to produce as a child by dropping a slice of apple into a bowl of hot cereal. As a first indication of the stature of K’eremu science, the expanding doorway was pretty impressive.
Another K’eremu, only the second he had ever seen, scurried through the opening and moseyed forward to halt directly in front of Sque. Multiple appendages rose and touched, stroked and gripped, executing an intricate pantomime that would have put the most complex human handshake to shame. After several minutes of this, while Walker and the other visitors watched with interest, the newly arrived K’eremu pivoted and retreated back the way it had come. Sque returned to her companions.
“We can move along now.”
Walker gaped at her. Behind him, Sobj-oes and the rest of the waiting Niyyuu and Iollth looked uncertain.
“That’s it?” he mumbled. “What about formal immigration procedures? Registration? Signifying that we’re here only for peaceful purposes?”
“Everything has been taken care of,” she assured him genially. Leaning the upper portion of her body slightly to her right, she directed her attention to Sobj-oes and the rest of the scientific compliment. “I will initiate proceedings to place you in touch with your superiors here. Meanwhile facilities, of a sort, will be made ready to accommodate you.” Her eyes shifted back to Walker, George, and Braouk. “Amenities for travelers are limited. K’erem knows many visitors, but for some reason they do not choose to linger.”
Walker let his gaze rove over the unadorned landing area, defunct of life, much less any kind of formal greeting. Overhead, the gray and cloudy sky continued to weep cold damp on a barren surface landscape. “Maybe it’s the enthusiastic welcome they get.”
“Or maybe it’s the balmy weather,” George added distastefully. “This I can get at home in March. If it’s like this here all year round…”
“The climate today is most salubrious,” Sque countered, slightly miffed. A pair of tentacles beckoned. “If you will all follow me, your immediate needs will be seen to.”
They shuffled across the flat white landing surface. There was little of the excited conversation that normally accompanied touchdown on a new world. Something about the surroundings served to mute casual chatter. The atmosphere in the landing area was not morbid, just gloomy. As gloomy as the perpetually dank weather, Walker decided. He was happy for Sque, who had been returned to her home, but under the circumstances and that leaden sky above, it was hard to be happy for anyone else.
While contact between Sobj-oes’s team of astronomers and their K’eremu counterparts (not “superiors,” as Sque had so casually claimed) was initiated, their many-limbed companion of the past years invited them to accompany her on her return to her own personal dwelling. Having nothing else to do, and loathe to be left alone at the glum port facility, Walker and his friends agreed.
There was none of the excitement and anticipation that had accompanied their similar recent visit to the home province on Tuuqalia of Braouk’s extended family. Though the interior of the cargo vehicle that was provided for the journey was sparse and thoroughly utilitarian, they had no choice in the matter of transportation. It was the only mover that could accommodate someone of Walker’s size—never mind Braouk. As they accelerated outward from the port, following one of the guidance signals that passed for a major transport vector, the Tuuqalian consoled himself by transforming the sights into saga. Needless to say, the stanzas he composed in the course of their journey were notable for their somberness, though they did no more than accurately reflect the dim and overcast terrain through which they were traveling.
Sque, at least, finally showed some signs of excitement. Her abode, she had learned, had not been disturbed during her absence, nor had it been given over to another. It should be, she told them, just as she had left it on the night when she had been abducted by the Vilenjji. Soon they would have the opportunity to experience real K’eremu hospitality.
“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?” George ventured—but only loud enough for Walker to overhear.
His friend hushed him. “It’s not Sque’s fault that she is the way she is. The K’eremu, her people—they’re just not an outgoing type. Not like the Tuuqalia, or the Niyyuu.”
“What,” the dog countered, “just because they’re conceited, arrogant, self-centered, balled-up bunches of slime?”
Leaning over, Walker put a cautioning hand on his friend’s snout. “They’re the conceited, arrogant, self-centered, balled-up bunches of slime we’re going to have to rely on to help us find a way home. Don’t forget that.”
Shaking off the human’s hand, George let out a resigned snort. “Much as I’d like to, I guess I can’t.” Standing up on his hind legs, he rested his forepaws on the transparent inner wall of the transport. “What a depressing chunk of rock. I bet there isn’t a decent place to bury a bone within a dozen parsecs of this place.”
At least they weren’t confined to the cargo carrier for very long. Sque’s habitat lay little more than half a day’s travel from the port where they had set down. As they approached the shadowed, churning sea, cool lights began to emerge from the surrounding landscape, shining from within the depths of homes built into the raw rock, or constructed of material that matched their surroundings so closely it was impossible to tell excavation from artifice. As their vehicle started to slow it also began to descend a gentle grade leading toward a small cove and the water beyond. Eventually, it halted not far from the shoreline itself. A visibly energized Sque bade them disembark. As they did so, everything suddenly changed.
The sun came out. And lit an amethyst sky.
Lips parted, Walker gaped at his abruptly transformed surroundings. So did George and Braouk, when the Tuuqalian finally succeeded in squeezing his bulk out of the transport. Sque had advanced a short distance down an artistically winding path before she noticed that her companions were lingering behind as if stunned senseless.
“What is the matter with you all?” Impatient and perplexed, she scuttled back to rejoin them. “What are you all staring at like a bunch of paralyzed dreepses?”
Head tilted back, Walker simply nodded slowly without lowering his gaze to look at her. “The sky here. The color—it’s not blue. It’s—lavender.”
“Lilac-like,” agreed Braouk euphoniously. For once, he and the human were equally in tune with what they were looking at.
Silvery-metallic eyes glanced upward from beneath protective ridges of cartilage, eying the appearance of the first gaps between clouds. “Ah—I understand now. What is normal for me is apparently quite new to you. I will endeavor to explain in a manner sufficiently simple for your rustic minds to comprehend.”
She proceeded to do so, but while the Vilenjji implants performed effectively with ordinary speech, and coped adequately with the occasional colloquialism, their programming for any language was not heavy with scientific terminology. Still, Walker managed to grasp the basic concepts. Something to do with K’erem’s sun being different than those of their own homeworlds. As a consequence, more violet light entered the atmosphere of K’erem than that of Earth or Tuuqalia. She proceeded to add something about shorter wavelengths and higher frequencies, and violet light scattering more than blue, after which the lecture descended into details of optics and physics that were not only beyond the ability of his implant to translate smoothly and effectively, but beyond his capability to understand in any case.
It did not matter. He had understood enough. And no special knowledge was required to appreciate the beauty of a sky that was tinted amethyst instead of turquoise.
Naturally, it affected the appearance of everything through which they resumed walking: the rocky, uneven landscape, the hardscrabble native vegetation, even the paved path that worked its winding way down toward the sea. Only when they reached the terminus of the walkway did his attention turn from lavender sky to the purple-hued foam that crested the occasional wave, and to the strange creatures that frolicked along the shore.
More than anything else, the majority of them resembled half-drowned bats. But they were not mammals, and the wing-like projections that extended from their backs had not evolved with flight in mind. Fist-sized and highly active, they scurried back and forth, plowing the dark sand with flexing undershot scoops that were more like tapering shovels than beaks. Bipedal, their muscular little legs drove them forward through and across the sand. Their communal hissing as they plowed the narrow beach sounded more like a swarm of bees than a flock of birds.
“Tepejk,” Sque pointed out almost affectionately. “Nice to see them again. Young K’eremu are often told to approach life like the tepejk.” A trio of tentacles rose and pointed. “Notice the pitch and design of their limbs. They cannot back up; they can only drive, drive forward. To reverse course they must turn completely around. Their legs are designed to enable them to scour the sand that hides their food, tiny silicaceous lifeforms.” Turning to her left, she beckoned for them to follow. “Come. Home awaits.”
A smaller side path led along the beachfront, past several lights shining from the interior of what appeared to be a low bluff. Sque’s abode lay at the end of the winding route. Despite the ease and expertise with which it blended perfectly into the surrounding terrain, she did not have to tell her friends where to stop. All three of them recognized it. Walker sucked in his breath sharply.
The entrance was an exact duplicate of her living quarters on board the Vilenjji capture ship.
“I can see what you are all thinking,” she told them, studying the diversity of faces. “You may already have noted that my home lies at the very end of this larger community space.” Turning, she gestured up the beach. “Unable to sleep one night, I was out wandering. The Vilenjji abduction took place far enough away from my home to preclude detection. As all of you know, our former captors were quite skilled at their nefarious activities.”
Walker gestured back the way they had come. “That must have been quite a walk. It looks like there are multiple residences scattered all through this section of coast.”
“Too distant to overhear, or to notice.” Her limbs lowered to her base. “Then too, as you should know by now, K’eremu tend to keep to themselves, and to mind their own business. Needless to say, there was no crowd present to witness my abduction.”
Flowing easily over the wave-worn rocks that lined both sides of the access path, she worked her way down to the beach, scattering feeding tepejk from her path. Her companions followed without effort. George began to trot up the shoreline, holding his nose close to the ground, sniffing out the details of yet another alien world. Braouk settled himself among the larger boulders, not wanting to coat his bristle-like fur with sand. Only Walker felt comfortable sitting down and letting his backside sink slightly into the cool, moist surface. Walker, and his ten-limbed female friend.
“Home.” The way even the perpetually acerbic K’eremu hissed the word brought a lump to Walker’s throat. How many times had he uttered the English equivalent silently, to himself? At last, and against seemingly impossible odds, Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu had come home. Squatting nearby, the Tuuqalian Broullkoun-uvv-ahd-Hrashkin composed with silent ferocity, adding to the extension of his monumental ongoing saga that was intended to describe their travels and adventures. Up the beach, George was now digging at the dark, faintly mauve sand in an attempt to expose something small and vigorous that was frantically burrowing in the opposite direction.
Home, Walker mused. Would he and George ever see it? Or were they doomed to be travelers forever, visitors to worlds wondrous but alien, welcoming but unfamiliar? Could Sque’s people really do as she claimed? Much K’eremu oratory was backed by accomplishment, he knew. But not all. The K’eremu were arrogant but brilliant—Sque was proof enough of that. Yet, they did not know everything. They were not omniscient. He did not really care whether they were or not.
He cared only if they could find Earth.
Having stopped digging, George had backed slightly away from the excavation he had made and was barking challengingly at the hole. Walker squinted in the dog’s direction. A pair of weaving feelers had emerged from the cavity and were fluttering at the dog’s face. Sensibly, George kept his distance, but continued to bark. His four-legged friend wanted to get home as badly as he did, Walker felt, but the dog’s one-day-at-a-time approach to their situation allowed him to avoid much of the stress that plagued Walker daily.
That’s the secret, he told himself. Dig holes, and don’t worry so much about what tomorrow may or may not bring. But hard as he tried, he couldn’t do it. Unfortunately for him, he was a human, and not a dog.
Nearby, Sque lolled in the metronomic wash of the sea, more at ease than he had ever seen her. It began to rain, a heavy mist that aspired to drizzle. Bubbles formed and drifted free from the tip of her speaking tube.
“Excellent. All that was needed to complete my homecoming was for the weather to turn good again.”
Walker blinked up at the clammy precipitation, wiping moisture from his eyes. Like hands coming together, the clouds had closed in again, shutting out what had been a briefly glorious purple sky.
“I’m happy for you, Sque,” he told her, “but as you know, the rest of us prefer to be out of this kind of weather instead of out in it.”
A stream of small bubbles burst from her speaking organ. “I know, yes, I know. Bright sunshine and enervating dryness, that’s what you three crave. Desiccation and dehydration.” She heaved herself out of the centimeter-deep water. “Let it not be said that I was a poor host. We will retire within.”
Sque’s dwelling was thankfully larger inside than had been her makeshift abode on board the Vilenjji vessel, though Walker still had to enter on hands and knees and once inside sit on the floor with his head bent to avoid hitting it on the ceiling. George experienced no such difficulty, but there was no way Braouk could be accommodated. Supplied by Sque with a remarkably thin and light but thoroughly waterproof sheet of some glossy fabric, the Tuuqalian sat outside and contentedly compiled stanzas. The chill and dark that would have bothered Walker, and to a lesser extent George, did not affect him.
While the Vilenjji had successfully duplicated the exterior of Sque’s home, they had never been inside. The interior was far different from the minimalist décor Walker remembered from the capture ship. In sharp contrast to the rough-hewn, natural coastal setting outside, the interior was lined with instrumentation and devices whose surfaces betrayed a silken texture. Soft light emanated from several locations within the dwelling, their purposes unknown. There were also what appeared to be works of art. All were multidimensional. There was nothing resembling a painting or sketch.
There were only two rooms, she informed them. A central, ovoidal living area, and a smaller storage chamber beyond. Everything she—a sophisticated, highly intelligent K’eremu—needed was in this one room and could be accessed by touch or voice command. To prove it, she brought forth several slick-sided mechanical shapes that emerged like gold-hued polyps from the lower portion of one wall.
“What do those do?” George sniffed cautiously of one of the metallic blobs.
“Kitchen,” she told them brusquely. She could not smile, of course, but in an unmistakable gesture of the kind of affection she could not quite voice, one tendril snaked out to gently caress Walker’s leg. “Don’t you think, after all we have been through together, that it is about time that I cooked something for you?”
Consigned to Sque’s care until some notification of progress came from Sobj-oes’s busy scientific team, Walker found himself worrying about Braouk. He need not have bothered. As it developed, the big Tuuqalian did not mind spending all his days and nights outside the residence that was too small to admit him. With the bolt of glossy material provided by Sque to help shield him from the rain, he was quite at home beneath a large rocky overhang nearby. As for the temperature, it was often much colder during wintertime on the plains that were his natural home. He passed the days composing. When it was time to eat the food the synthesizer in Sque’s home churned out for her guests, the Tuuqalian would hunch low near the entrance to receive his own massive portion, and also to chat with his friends.
Since Sque herself showed no inclination whatsoever to entertain her visitors, and in fact kept to herself as much as possible, and Braouk was preoccupied with his saga-spinning, Walker and George were left to themselves to wander the stony slopes that surrounded Sque’s abode, and to explore the narrow beach of dark sand that fronted the cove like a necklace of unpolished hematite.
Occasionally when they were out strolling along the beach, they would encounter another K’eremu. Apprised of the return of the prodigal cephalopod Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu and of the presence of visiting aliens in their midst, these locals would hurry to scurry away from oncoming human and dog. When surprised, or hailed, sometimes they would reply with a gruff hiss and an emitted bubble or two before vanishing along the nearest escape route.
“They really don’t like company, do they?” George commented one afternoon when not one but two local residents utilized all ten limbs to the max to avoid having to confront him and his tall friend.
Walker watched the second K’eremu disappear over a slight hillock fragrant with what looked like acres of rosebushes that had been stomped flat. “They don’t even like each other, remember? That’s why we’ve never seen more than two of them together at any one time.”
The fur on his feet slick with seawater and bearing clumps of black sand, George trotted along easily beside his human. “Despite what Sque told us about how automated their society is, wouldn’t they have to congregate together to build things? Like a house, or a path, or maybe civilization?”
Walker shrugged and tugged his shirt collar closer around him. An intermittent breeze was blowing in off the gunmetal gray sea, and he was cold. “I wouldn’t wager against anything the K’eremu try to do, or the way they choose to do it. I guess it’s easier for them to deal with automatons than with each other.”
George paused to sniff something hard-shelled and dead, snorted, and resumed his walk. “It’s their innate sense of superiority. Individual as much as racial. Collectively, they’re convinced the K’eremu are the sharpest, smartest species around. And each K’eremu is sharper and smarter than its neighbor. It’s a wonder they’ve cooperated enough to advance as far as they have.”
“Yeah, cooperated.”
The dog frowned up at his friend. “You said that funny. What’re you thinking, biped?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing really.” He looked out to sea. A great bluish-green bulk was heaving itself slowly above the waves, as if the accumulated wastes of a million years had suddenly acquired sentience and decided to belch themselves surfaceward. The misshapen mass was festooned with scraggly lengths of scabrous brown growths that writhed and twitched with shocking, independent life. At a distance, it was impossible to tell if they were appendages, parasites, or something unidentifiable.
“You’d think at least one or two of her old neighbors would’ve dropped by to congratulate Sque on surviving her abduction, and to welcome her home.”
George grunted knowingly. “She wouldn’t have let them in. I’m telling you, Marc, it’s one thing to label somebody as antisocial; it’s another to see it applied to an entire species. When a strange dog wanders into your territory, you have to at least make initial contact before you can decide whether it’s friend or foe.” With his snout he indicated the widespread, artfully concealed dwellings that inhabited the coast they were passing. “There’s sure no equivalent of sociable butt-sniffing here.”
“No butts, either.” Idly, Walker kicked at something half-buried in the sand, jumped back as it shot into the air, spun several times on its longitudinal axis while spraying water in all directions, and landed hard on the sand. Whereupon it promptly scurried on a dozen or more cilia down to the water’s edge. There it crouched, looking like an ambulatory rubber glove, and spat at them as it glared up out of a single flattened red eye.
The clouds broke, revealing K’erem’s spectacular alien sky. The planet’s strange sun beamed down, warming Walker with its eerie violet glow while electrifying the normally dark and clammy landscape with shocking wine-colored highlights. As always, it had a profound effect on Walker, though much less so on the largely color-blind George.
“This isn’t such a bad world,” the commodities trader observed. “At least, not when the sun is out.”
“No, it’s not,” George agreed without hesitation.
It was enough to halt Walker in his tracks. “What did you say?”
The dog sat back on his haunches and stared out at the alien, lavender-tinted waves. “It’s not such a bad place. Reminds me of the city on a late autumn afternoon.”
Walker knelt beside him. “Those are about the first kind words I’ve heard you say about any place we’ve been. What’s changed?”
The light wind racing in off the ocean rippled the dog’s fur. He shrugged diffidently. “I dunno. Maybe I’m adapting. Maybe I’m resigned. Maybe I’m losing my mind. They say travel is broadening.”
Grinning, Walker reached over to scratch his friend’s neck. “The first space-dog. Harbinger of a new species.”
“Hairbinger, you mean.”
They stayed like that for a long while, man and dog, the former with his horizons broadened, the latter with his intelligence elevated, contemplating a sheet of water that was farther from the familiar wavelets of Lake Michigan than either of them could have imagined as recently as four years ago. Then they rose and, each lost in his own thoughts, made their way back to the compact, lowceilinged home of their inherently irascible, intrinsically reluctant, many-limbed hostess.