Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [117]
“Really?” His gaze unbroken, the dog cocked his head to one side. “What an enticing prospect, Marc. Look, my tongue is hanging out and I’m salivating at the thought of it.” From his chair, Walker stared uncomprehendingly at his friend and companion. In all their long relationship, including the time spent in captivity aboard the Vilenjji ship, it was the first time he had ever heard George sound bitter. Sarcastic, yes; caustic, yes; but never bitter. Until now.
“Go home to what?” the dog continued derisively. “To be the star of a traveling media circus? A biological freak show? ‘See George, the talking dog, the eighth wonder of the world!’ Or in self-defense would I be expected to just shut up, and for the rest of my life not say another word, or have another discussion with another intelligent being. How would you like to have to live like that?”
Walker levered himself forward in his chair. Though assembled of bars and energy clamps and carefully repositioned bubbles of gas, it was utterly noiseless. “You could always talk to me, George,” he replied softly.
“Yeah. I could always talk to you.” The dog began pacing in swift, tight circles, chasing his own self. “Nothing personal, Marc. We’ve been through a lot together, and I like you. But that’s not enough. You’re not enough. Once upon a time that kind of one-on-one relationship would have been fine. But not only has my intellect been boosted, so have my expectations.” Halting without catching his tail, or his self, he flicked his ears toward the two aliens who were watching from the other side of the room.
“I’ve had to learn how to communicate and deal with K’eremu and Tuuqalian, with Vilenjji and Sessrimathe, and with all the other captives I met in the enclosures on board the Vilenjji vessel.” The woolly head looked back and up at him. “I can’t go back to talking to just one human. Much less barking at him.”
“Opportunities for interaction, with many other peoples, awaits beyond.” Reaching out and forward, the huge yet philosophically inclined Tuuqalian scooped the dog up in his left pair of cablelike tentacles. Bringing both eyestalks close together, Braouk trained on George orbs that taken in tandem were nearly as big as the dog himself.
“I cannot stay here, George. Sequi’aranaqua’na’senemu, she cannot stay here, either. Your friend Marcus Walker cannot stay here. We must all of us try our best to find our way home again, even though it is likely we will fail. You may remain. The civilized Sessrimathe will be glad to take care of you. By remaining, you can look forward to many years of stimulating interaction with their kind as well as with others who come to visit, to trade, and to learn.” Gently, he set George back down on the floor. The pointed tip of one appendage powerful enough to rip the doors off a car lightly scratched the dog between his ears.
George gazed up at the hulking shape. Viewed by an unsuspecting visitor from home in the purposely dimmed light of the room, Braouk had the shadowy silhouette of a perfect nightmare. But to the dog, who by now knew the Tuuqalian well, the alien was a friend: a massive mélange of teeth, tentacles, and bulbous eyes with a heart as big as his body. He turned slightly to his right.
“Sque?”
“You’re asking my opinion? I always knew despite the disparity in physical dimensions which of you two was the more gifted.” Familiar by now with the K’eremu’s casually disparaging speech, Walker said nothing. He had come to find her unbounded egotism almost endearing. From beneath overhanging brows, metal-gray eyes squinted back at the dog. “Loneliness will eventually balance out the initial pleasures to be gained by staying here. I have had time to watch and to learn about you, George. While I could, if forced to, survive in such cocooning surroundings, I do not believe the same to be true of one of your kind. You do not possess sufficient depth of self-importance. You need the company of others.”
“In other words, unlike you, I’m not adequately antisocial enough.”
“Put it however you prefer.” She was too vain to be offended.