The Candle of Distant Earth (18 page)

Walker frowned. “What subject were you thinking of using as a basis for your saga?”

De-sil-jimd turned on his oversized feet to better regard the taller human. “Predation. The Hyfft would understand.”

Walker nodded knowingly. It was certainly a contrast with the serene, peaceful subject matter which he and Habr-wec had addressed. But if it was all the Iollth could think of around which to spin the requisite saga…

How
would
the Tuuqalians react? There was only one way to find out.

“Might as well give it a try,” he suggested to the bottom-heavy alien. “All they're likely to do is refuse your people landing rights. Habr-wec and I are already in.”

The Iollth gestured tersely. Turning slowly, he faced the line of increasingly impatient Tuuqalians and, in a high-pitched voice that was a welcoming contrast to the Niyyuuan discordance that had preceded it, began.

To everyone's relief, the pugnacious nature of the communications specialist's short narrative was in no way off-putting to the attentive jury. If anything, they appreciated its robust nature more than did any of De-sil-jimd's mildly appalled companions. Thinking back to the unrestrained ferocity Braouk had exhibited on board the Vilenjji capture ship, Walker realized he ought not to have been surprised. The Tuuqalians were as open to aggressive saga-spinning as they were to more tranquil reminiscing.

That left only two among the visitors to gain their hosts' tentacle-wave of approval. Her initial reluctance to even participate now appeared in direct contrast to Sque's dynamic verbal invention on behalf of her kind. In fact, after half an hour of tale-telling in perfect Tuuqalian form accompanied by much waving of tentacle tips and blowing of bubbles, those who constituted the imposing array of judges were starting to squirm once again, though this time not from impatience. It was left to Walker to approach the energetically orating K'eremu, crouch down to eye level, and make gentle shushing motions.

Halting in mid-declamation, four tentacles held aloft and preparing to gesture dramatically, she peered over at him. “Something is wrong, Marcus Walker?”

He had long since learned that delicate diplomacy was wasted on a K'eremu. “I think you've sagaed enough, Sque. Time to let our hosts pass judgment. Superb invention, by the way.”

“Of course it is,” she replied, lowering two of the four uplifted tentacles. “All of my vocalizing is superb. As to letting our hosts pass judgment, their approval of my modest efforts was a foregone conclusion as soon as I began. But I am far from finished.” She turned away from him and back to the line of exceedingly tolerant adjudicators. “In point of fact, I have barely concluded the introduction I have composed, and have not yet commenced the body of the recitation.”

“And a wonderful recitation it was!” Walker declared loudly, so that all present would be certain to hear him. At the same time, he was gesturing to Braouk. No other Tuuqalian would have understood the significance of that gesture. But to Braouk, who had spent as much time in the company of the K'eremu as had Walker, its meaning and significance were clear.

Stepping forward, he promptly picked up the paused Sque and raised her high. This was her favored mode of travel, carried aloft above everyone else by the prodigiously strong Tuuqalian. She therefore did not object to the unrequested ascension, until a second massive tentacle folded itself gently but firmly around her midsection, collapsing her speaking tube against the slick maroon flesh of her torso. The closest human physical equivalent of Braouk's action would be pinching someone's lips together.

Slitted eyelids expanded. Unable to speak or blow bubbles of protest, she remained elevated above her companions but quite speechless. A necessary interruption, Walker felt certain, lest they find themselves forced to endure her clever but interminable verbal invention for hours on end while trying the patience of the adjudicators.

Despite the surgical delicacy of the intercession, it did not go unnoticed by the assembled panel. Eying the effectively muffled Sque, a Tuuqalian near the middle of the line rumbled inquisitively, “Why is the small many-limbed one now silent, and why is she gesticulating so actively with her appendages?”

Looking back, Walker watched as Braouk promptly passed a second massive tentacle across Sque's body, stilling much of the activity that had drawn the adjudicator's attention.

“It's part of a private ritual of hers,” Walker hurriedly improvised. “She likes to be carried. As you've been informed, the four of us who were abducted have been together for some time. Despite being of different species, we've come to an intimate knowledge and appreciation of one another's needs and habits.” Gesturing in the direction of the now scrupulously restrained Sque, he lowered his voice slightly. “Our K'eremu's high intelligence is balanced by an unfortunate addiction to certain herbal supplements. Nervousness at the need to satisfy the traditions of Tuuqalia probably led her to…well, surely you understand.” Repeatedly, he put the fingers of one hand up to his mouth.

Some discussion among the Tuuqalians finally led to the one on the far left announcing, “The presentation of the representative from K'erem is accepted. Only one remains.” All eyestalks promptly inclined in the direction of the only quadruped among the visitors.

Walker crouched down beside his friend. “You don't have to do this, George. I know you didn't really want to come.” He gestured toward the others. “Everyone else has satisfied the requirement. That means all the crews, from their scientific compliments, to the salivating media representatives, to those who only want to rest and do some sightseeing, have been granted access. You can go back up on the shuttle and relax on board until we're ready to leave this system. You don't have to stay down here.”

Cocking his head to one side, the dog looked over at him. “You think I suffered through another atmospheric roller-coaster ride just to turn around and slink back with my tail tucked between my legs? Now that I'm here, I damn sure wouldn't mind a roll in the local grass, or its equivalent.” So saying, he took a couple of steps toward the row of expectant Tuuqalians. Walker straightened and, after one more glance to ensure that the irate Sque was still being held firmly in check, waited to see what the dog would do.

It was impossible to tell whether George had been rehearsing while everyone else had been addressing the Tuuqalians, or if his saga was spontaneous. Whichever, he did not hesitate.

“I'm alone here, if I get home, still alone. The only one, of my small kind, who speaks. Gave me intelligence, did our wicked captors, without asking. Gave me speech, not as a gift, or present. To help them, to easier sell me, to others.” Lowering his head, his ears falling limp, the dog pawed evocatively at the lapis-blue floor. “I can't decide, if it's a blessing, or curse. I can't decide, if I should return, to Earth. Being a freak, however affecting and admirable, is hard.”

As George continued, the immense hall became utterly silent. The small dog-voice bounced off walls so distant the words barely reached, returning as echoes that rarely rose above a whisper. Even Sque, unable to do more than listen and watch, stilled the outraged writhing of her tentacles and paid attention to the small speaker.

When George finally finished and turned to rejoin his friends, it was all Walker could do to repress the tears that had begun to well up at the corners of his eyes. In their place, he did the only thing he was sure would not be misconstrued. Kneeling, he smiled and patted his companion gently on his head.

The Tuuqalian on the far right of the line spoke in a rumble that might have been ever so subtly different from all that had preceded it.

“An exemplar of sensitivity and saga-composing, the small quadruped is accepted, as are any others of his kind.”

“I'm the only one,” George replied quietly, clearly affected by his own wistful words. “But thanks anyway.”

Walker bent over. “That was beautiful, George. I didn't know you had it in you.”

“Why not?” Shielded from view of all but his human, one fur-shaded eye winked unexpectedly at the man. “It was only a bit of doggerel.”

Grinning, Walker straightened and looked over at Braouk, who as a preventative measure still held the no-longer-struggling Sque in his grasp. “Then we're done here, right? We can let Gerlla-hyn know that it's okay to send his people down, and De-sil-jimd can inform his caste, who'll so notify the rest of the Iollth.”

Braouk started to reply. Before he could, a Tuuqalian near the center of the line pistoned erect on his four supportive tentacles and shuffled forward. All four massive upper limbs thrust straight out, the tips coming together to form a pyramidal point. It struck Walker with sudden disquiet that the point was aimed directly at him.

“
Challenge!
I claim challenge!” the Tuuqalian thundered. Unlike George's plaintive opus, the stentorian Tuuqalian phrases boomed repetitively off the high, perfectly curved walls of the hall.

“Challenge?” Walker turned quickly to Braouk. “What is this? I thought we'd all, individually, satisfied your people's requirement for admittance. What's this ‘challenge' business?” Though he spoke to Braouk, he found himself staring as if mesmerized at those pointing tentacle tips. There was no question about where they were aimed. When he moved toward Braouk, they followed him.

His hulking companion gently set Sque back down on the floor. Though the body of the livid K'eremu had swelled with fury to the point where her skin threatened to split, she somehow managed to internalize her rage. Only the serious nature of the demanding Tuuqalian who had trundled forward swayed her to contain the flood of vituperation that had been building up within. Her quivering restraint allowed Braouk to respond without having to raise his voice.

“It is a, right reserved to the, first greeters,” he rumbled apologetically. “It can only be made one time. A challenge between one representative of Tuuqalia and one visitor. It appears that you are the one to have been so honored.”

Walker swallowed, his attention switching rapidly back and forth between the Tuuqalian who was his good friend and the other who was—his challenger?

“Somehow I don't feel especially honored. What does this challenge involve?” His tone was hopeful. “More saga-spinning?”

“I am afraid not.” Braouk explained as George, De-sil-jimd, Habr-wec, and even a softly sputtering Sque gathered around to find out what was going on. “By your excellent individual recitations, you have already demonstrated that your respective species are sufficiently civilized and sensitive. To complete the requirement for access, one of you must additionally demonstrate bravery. It is a great honor to be the one so selected to participate in such a demonstration.” Though it weighed forty kilos or so, the tentacle that reached out to rest kindly on Walker's left shoulder did not seem half so heavy as the imponderable that continued to hover menacingly in the air.

“How do I do that,” he finally muttered uneasily, “if not by spinning a saga?”

“Is not complicated,” Braouk assured him, “and not take long, to accomplish.” While the one upper appendage still rested on the human's shoulder, another pair indicated the Tuuqalian who had stepped forward and was waiting expectantly. “You and the adjudicator who has issued the challenge will fight.”

I
t took only seconds for the full import of Braouk's words to sink in. Walker's response was immediate. “If it's acceptable, I wouldn't mind if someone else received this great honor.”

Braouk's eyes rose slightly on their stalks. “That is not possible, friend Marcus. For example, if it was possible to do so, I would gladly accept the challenge on your behalf. But the challenge was made to you. To alter it in any way would be to severely diminish its significance.”

“I can live with that,” he assured his friend.
Literally,
he thought frantically.

“I understand your concern.” Braouk tried to reassure him. “Everything will be all right, friend Marcus. You must trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Walker told him. With one hand, he indicated the looming mass of his patiently waiting challenger. If anything, the Tuuqalian who had spoken was bigger than Braouk. Like Walker's friend, the challenge-issuer weighed well over a ton. Nor did his size make him slow. Walker had previously seen ample evidence of what a rampaging Tuuqalian could do, when Braouk had finally been freed from captivity on board the Vilenjji capture ship. He had no desire whatsoever to expose himself to similar berserking.

“I just don't trust that one,” he finished.

A second tentacle tip fondly stroked Walker's side as both bulging oculars dipped close. “You must do this thing, friend Marcus. It is a requirement.”

How many more requirements do your people expect us to fulfill?
Walker found himself wondering apprehensively. He eyed the huge Tuuqalian who had issued the challenge. Having observed his friend Braouk in action, he knew that the Tuuqalians' size belied their quickness. But they moved around on four thick, stumpy, lower tentacles. Would he have any kind of an advantage there?

Rather than seek an advantage where none presented itself, maybe he would be better off just relying on Braouk's assurances. There seemed no way around it.

“All right. If I have to do this to obtain the aid of your species' scientists, then I'll do it.”

Braouk's eyestalks withdrew and he turned toward the line of waiting adjudicators. “The human accepts the challenge!”

Fight that monster? Walker mused. How, and with what? Was he expected to contest the challenge with weaponry? There was none in evidence, and no sign of any being brought forth. That, at least, was some small relief. Not that the Tuuqalian would need anything more than its natural ability and strength to reduce him to a pulp, if it was so inclined. Surely he couldn't be expected to go one-on-one with it from a purely physical standpoint? Such a matchup was ludicrous on the face of it. And where was this contest supposed to take place? He quickly found out.

Leaving a hole in the line of adjudicators, the Tuuqalian who had issued the challenge bellowed thunderously and came lumbering off the dais directly toward him.

De-sil-jimd and Habr-wec backed quickly away from the human, the Niyyuun's tails twitching in agitation, the Iollth using its oversized feet to retreat with commendable swiftness. Sque scrambled right back up into the same strong limbs of Braouk whose embrace she had so energetically fought to escape only moments earlier. George rushed to take cover behind their Tuuqalian friend.

“You were a good friend, Marc. Been nice knowing you!”

“Wait, everybody slow down a minute!” Walker protested.

No one paid either his native English words or their respective simultaneous translations the least attention. The rest of the adjudicators had brought forth an array of small instruments and were monitoring the sudden activity with undisguised interest. Was his performance being rated? Walker started to back up and begin a desperate search for someplace that might lie beyond the reach of the advancing Tuuqalian.

The official welcoming examination had taken an unexpected and even irrational turn. Everything had suddenly and without warning been turned upside down. What had happened to the brusque but courteous Tuuqalians who had been so concerned with measuring the level of their visitors' civilizations and their degree of sensitivity? From the lofty intellectual endeavor of creating saga-stories he now found himself thrust into the shiny, polished equivalent of little more than a crude arena. It was as if Virgil had suddenly been ordered to stop composing odes and pick up the armor and weapons of a gladiator.

In his college days, Walker had been something of the modern equivalent of a gladiator. But facing the oncoming Tuuqalian who had challenged him, he did not even have the benefit of helmet and pads. Not that they would have been of much use, anyway.

Needing time, he started running. Shorn of hiding space and bereft of any weapons, he could do nothing else. His friends did their best to cheer him on and uphold his spirits. Hailing as they did from martial societies, both the Niyyuu and the Iollth were more energized by the confrontation than Sque or George, who feared for their companion instead of urging him onward.

Their support was not missed in any case, because there was nowhere to urge him onward to. The walls of the great hall were smooth and gently curved, all lighting and electronics having been fully integrated into the building material itself. Breathing hard, he reached the portal through which they had originally entered. Unsurprisingly, it was locked, but checking it out had been worth a try. With his Tuuqalian challenger looming up fast behind him, Walker bolted to his right, racing around the circumference of the room. In the center of the room, several of the adjudicators were chatting amiably with one another. As he ran, Walker found himself wishing for a couple of small nuclear devices: one for his pursuer, the other for the line of local observers who appeared to be enjoying themselves at his expense. As arriving supplicants, naturally neither he nor any of his companions had been allowed to appear armed before the adjudicators.

At least there was no furniture for him to trip over. Having circled half the oval hall, he found himself nearly back where he had started, close to his friends but at the far right-hand end of the line of adjudicators. He fancied he could feel hot breath on his back and saw-edged teeth clamping down on his skull and spine. He could not linger. Having no time to think, he acted.

He ran straight toward the nearest Tuuqalian.

Busily manipulating a pair of enigmatic devices, it eyed him in surprise, both eyestalks rising upward and as far away as possible from his small but determined onrushing form. The two adjudicators nearest the one Walker was rapidly approaching shifted their position for a better view. Meanwhile, Walker's pursuer had extended all four upper tentacles in an attempt to bring him down.

Darting behind the nearest adjudicator, Walker saw that his risky guess had been correct. Not having challenged him, they did not interfere. They did, however, try to get out of his way. Had there been two or three of them, they might have managed it. But filled with a dozen of the huge creatures, the dais was too crowded. No matter how hard his pursuer tried to envelop the human in its questing tentacles, Walker managed to dart nimbly behind one or two of his hunter's colleagues.

How long could this go on? he wondered wildly. Was there some kind of time limit, or was the contest expected to continue until one or the other combatant fell? Noticing that one of the adjudicators had set its recorder, or whatever the device was, down beside its lower limbs while it worked intently on a second device, Walker nipped in and picked up the instrument before its startled owner could react. The Tuuqalian-sized device was comfortingly heavy in his palm. It was no gun, but it was solid and well-made. Though he'd played linebacker and not quarterback, he'd always had a good arm. Winded now, his expression grim, he turned to face his pursuer.

Tentacles waving, jaws clashing, the challenger came roaring toward him, forcing a path through the milling adjudicators. Evidently it either had not seen Walker pick up the small device, or did not care that the human had done so. Without giving his pursuer a chance to reflect on possibilities, Walker took aim and hurled the apparatus as hard as he could. It struck the oncoming Tuuqalian solidly in its right eye before bouncing off and landing on the floor.

Immediately, the hulking alien halted, its lower limbs scrambling to bring it to a stop. All four grasping tentacles reached up and over to cradle the bruised eye, which had retracted completely into the ocular recess on the same side of the Tuuqalian's body. Several fellow adjudicators rushed to aid their injured colleague.

The others, who heretofore had been milling about indifferently while working with their own individual instrumentation, now proceeded to cluster around Walker. Their massive, menacing forms towered over him.

Well, it had been a good run, he told himself. It wasn't as if he and his friends knew Earth's location and were about to embark on the homeward journey tomorrow. At least George might still make it. He hoped the dog would remember him fondly, and how Walker had sacrificed himself, albeit without having been given a choice, to satisfy the demands of the Tuuqalians and thereby allow his friends to gain access to Tuuqalian scientific knowledge.

It struck him that no one was striking him. The assembly of Tuuqalians who had gathered around him were, in fact, making noises that his implanted translator insisted on deciphering not as threats or curses, but as compliments. The majority of the comments were directed not at him, but to one another.

“Well rendered…,” one was saying. “Intelligent decision, to run and not try to stand its ground…unusually well-balanced for a creature with only two such spindly limbs and no tail.” Walker, who was proud of the effort he had expended in the weight room while in college and who had subsequently worked hard to maintain as much of an aging football player's physique as he could, had never before heard his legs referred to as “spindly.” The comments and observations continued.

“Excellent manipulative digit to ocular coordination…demonstrated courage by running in among us not knowing what our individual reactions might be…clear ability to make use of ordinary objects as weaponry…”

It went on in that vein for a while. If nothing else, it gave him time to catch his breath. None of it made any sense. One minute he was being chased around the hall by one of their number whose apparent intent was to do him grievous bodily harm, and the next they were all standing around praising his flight and paltry counterattack. His confusion only deepened when the one who had challenged him approached anew. The eye he had struck was darkened, but Tuuqalian oculars were apparently as tough as the rest of their massive bodies.

“Nothing but sensible and effective reactions. I thank you,” it rumbled.

If it hadn't been embedded inside his head, Walker would have tapped his translator to make sure it was still working. “You're thanking me?” he mumbled as an excited George ran up to rejoin him. “For hitting you in the eye?”

The orb in question described a small circle on the end of its strong, flexible stalk. “Admirable inspiration! As was your darting and weaving. You have more than satisfied the final requirement.” All four upper tentacles crossed one another in front of the huge, hirsute body to form a precise geometric pattern. “Allow me to be the first to formally welcome you and your companions to Tuuqalia.” Having delivered the official welcome that Walker and his friends had been so anxiously seeking, it turned away from him to resume chatting with its fellow adjudicators.

“You all right?” He became aware that George was squinting up at him.

“Yeah, I'm fine. More emotionally exhausted than anything else.” Walker gazed at the gathering of huge Tuuqalians. All seemed completely at ease now. No further questions were directed his way, nor was there any indication revenge would be sought for the injury he had inflicted on one of their own. With George at his side, he tottered down the slight slope to rejoin his waiting companions. “Otherwise, just a little a dazed, I guess. What just happened here?”

It was left to Braouk to explain. “Enriching ennobling sagas, since Tuuqalian civilization's beginnings, we create. Reverential tales and inspiring stories. After thousands of years of composition, even the most inventive composers among us have difficulty imagining new themes, new subjects, new visualizations worthy of their efforts. Seeks fresh inspiration, for ideas and composition, every Tuuqalian. New stimulation can, be difficult to obtain, and recognize.” Upper tentacles gestured meaningfully. “I am sure you can understand, friend Marcus, that when such presents itself, it is eagerly seized upon.”

Walker remained doubtful. “I'm still not sure I understand…”

“You,” George cut in. “The whole challenge and chase thing—stimuli.” The dog nodded in the direction of the milling adjudicators, some of whom had begun to depart but all of whom continued conversing animatedly among themselves. “No wonder the one you hit in the eye thanked you. Not only will he—I think it was a he—get inspired to compose from chasing you, you provided an additional and unexpected incentive when you fought back so effectively.”