Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [106]
Invigorated by the prospect, buoyed by the sight of the arrested Vilenjji, he did not hesitate to put into words the obvious request—one that surely needed only to be spoken to be fulfilled, and to set the relevant course of action in motion. If it wasn’t already.
“So, Tzharoustatam—I’m assuming your people may want to talk to us some more, might have some additional questions regarding our former unhappy situation, but I’m sure you don’t mind my asking—when can we go home?” He felt his companions close around him, waiting expectantly for the Sessrimathe’s answer.
Tzharoustatam considered each of their attentive faces in turn. His tripartite gaze enabled him to do so quickly. “Yes, there will be additional queries. But they should be perfunctory. After that, you may go home whenever you wish.”
Unable to stand the happiness, a giddy George began running circles around his companions. Struggling to suppress his emotions, Braouk launched into a murmured recitation of the glorious central stanza from the Epic of Klavanja. Looking for someone to high-five, Walker was forced to stay his hand, since there were none to meet it. Only Sque exhibited no elation, restrained by a natural reticence and . . . something else.
“It is good to hear you say that.” She had to raise her voice in order to be heard above the ongoing celebration. “Naturally, the return of those so boorishly removed from their homes will start with those adversely impacted individuals who represent the most highly developed species.” Without a trace of embarrassment she added humbly, “That would be me.”
Whatever Tzharoustatam thought of this assertive display of alien ego he kept to himself. Before any of the K’eremu’s companions could object, voice their outrage, or laugh out loud, the Sessrimathe responded.
“There may be moderating issues of distance and location involved. Astrophysics is not my realm, and I am not qualified to comment on such. However, I am certain the wishes of all will be fulfilled. All you have to do is provide Navigation with the necessary coordinates.”
George’s woolly brows furrowed sharply. “Coordinates?”
“Of your homeworlds.” All three of the kindly Tzharoustatam’s oculars inclined toward the dog. “Obviously, we cannot make arrangements for your return home until you show us where your homes lie.”
Walker swallowed uneasily. Having been exposed to the immensity of the Sessrimathe ship, having been witness to the efficiency with which they had taken control of the Vilenjji vessel and its crew, he had automatically assumed it would be no problem for such a sophisticated and technologically advanced species to convey him and his friends back to their birth-worlds. To Earth. It was now apparent that there was one small hitch.
They did not know the way.
“Records,” Sque was saying. “Implacably efficient, the Vilenjji would have recorded the location of every world they visited, whether they carried out an abduction there or not. The requisite spatial coordinates will be contained within their instrumentalities.”
Of course, a relieved Walker realized. Abductees such as himself and his companions constituted the equivalent of stick pins on a map somewhere within the depths of Vilenjji records. It was only a matter of looking them up.
If only.
“Unfortunately,” a regretful Tzharoustatam had to tell them, “the Vilenjji are indeed as efficient as you say. They have apparently been meticulous in their wiping of every relevant record relating to their illicit activities. The preliminary search, at least, of their onboard storage facilities has produced nothing but an emptiness as all-embracing as the vacuum outside this ship. Not only are there no coordinates that could point the way to the worlds they have visited, there are no records of even the most basic shipboard activities. Nothing. From the standpoint of available records, the Vilenjji craft gives all the appearance of having been operating in a void.” Concerned and compassionate