Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [103]
When it came his turn, Walker hesitated. “If you have some kind of universal reader, or translator-equipped device, I’d very much like to learn about your civilization.”
Tzharoustatam eyed him approvingly. “Sessrimathe civilization—or galactic civilization.”
“Galactic,” Walker advised him.
“Nourishment of a different organ. I think an appropriate device can be found. If not, one can be modified. Provided you are willing to allow a brief preparatory study of your central nervous system.”
“Like Sque said earlier,” Walker told the alien, “nothing you do to us can be any worse than what we’ve already been forced to experience.”
The middle three-fingered hand gestured. “Your requests will be seen to.”
George stepped forward to gaze up at the Sessrimathe. “What happens when you’ve finished your . . . investigation?”
One eye remained fixed on Walker while the other two regarded the apprehensive dog. “You will promptly be informed of the results, and any subsequent decisions.” As the alien turned away, Walker marveled at the coordinated movement of its three legs. “Abducted,” he thought he heard the Sessrimathe murmur. Then it was gone, followed by its two companions who had not spoken but who had most definitely listened to every word of the encounter. The doorway closed behind them.
Once again, the uneasy foursome were alone in the white room. As promised, Sque was soon contacted for information on ingestible chemical compounds. Not long afterward food was forthcoming, along with a greater variety of consumable liquids. To Walker’s astonishment, one shimmering blue canister contained a dark fluid that looked and tasted like several gallons of thick raspberry syrup. His only regret was that he could not drink more than a little of the rich, heavy fluid. It went down even better when drizzled atop something that had the taste and consistency of a venison muffin.
As it had in the course of so many difficult days past, his battered but still reliable watch kept him apprised of the passage of time. Sated with food and drink, they waited amid their sterile surroundings for the next reaction from their hosts.
It came within hours, as Tzharoustatam returned. Once again he was accompanied by two others of his kind. Only this time, both were armed. Within, Walker withered. The presence of weapons was not promising.
It did not immediately occur to him that they might have another purpose.
15
“Outrage! An affront against civilization!”
For a bad moment, Walker thought the Sessrimathe was talking about him and his companions. Then he was able to see that the alien’s anger was not directed at him, or at his friends. Tzharoustatam was raving—in the courteous, proper manner of the Sessrimathe, but still raving—about something else. The nature of that something else the three-legged alien was shortly to identify.
“Come with me, all of you.” Without waiting to see if they were complying, their host pivoted and strode back toward the portal through which he had just entered.
“Whither we go, relying on new friends, for seeing?” As usual, Braouk lumbered along in the wake of his smaller companions.
“To the Vilenjji,” Tzharoustatam informed them.
Sque halted immediately. “Oh, no. You are not turning us back to them. We have already made our sentiments known on that point.”
Tzharoustatam turned his body just enough for the left eye to regard her. “Do you think the Sessrimathe as primitive as you do your companions? Our inspection has exposed the truth. It was only a matter of insisting that we be given a tour of the Vilenjji craft. Once aboard, we were able to take ourselves where we wished to go. Observing this and divining our intent, some of the Vilenjji resisted. I regret to say that we were compelled to take countermeasures. There were casualties.
“Your fellow abductees were located. Their situation was as you described it. Enough were interviewed to fully corroborate your earlier statements. These