Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [29]
“I will if it’s the only way I can get your attention.”
“Okay, okay.” Reluctantly, Walker turned away from the Harakath copse. “I promise. I won’t touch the putrid little twerp.”
“Better not.” George stopped growling.
As they walked off, the human glanced back toward the bushes. “One of these days, though . . .”
“One of these days may never come,” George informed him warningly. “Better resign yourself to it.”
“All right. I hear what you’re saying.” Reaching down, he gave the dog a reassuring pat between the ears. “I don’t want to get shut away like that again.”
Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how great the effort he expended on its behalf, the image of the Ghouaba grinning at him from behind the loglike legs of the retreating Vilenjji simply would not go away.
5
It did not help that it was impossible to constantly avoid seeing the being who had betrayed him. Spacious as it was, the boundaries of the grand enclosure were finite, as were the opportunities to practice avoidance within. Over the course of the following days and weeks, during walks and the casual runs he employed to keep his strength (as well as his spirits) up, he encountered the Ghouaba more than once. On several occasions, he was convinced that the rubber-limbed little alien was taunting him.
It was easier when he was running with George. By now he had come to rely not only on the dog’s company, but also on its straightforwardness, its utilitarian approach to their adverse circumstances. As his four-legged friend remarked one time, “The brain boost the Vilenjji gave me didn’t make me a surgeon, or an engineer, or even a meter reader. All I’ve got is common sense. But like most dogs, I’ve got a lot of it.”
Keeping that in mind helped prevent Walker from reaching out, snatching up the grinning Ghouaba, and unscrewing its deceitful little head. Aware now that the Vilenjji surveillance system was less than perfect, there was always the chance that he could do the deed and get away with it. The risk, however, was too high for the satisfaction that might be achieved. His captors might not take him away forever, as they had with the Tripodan, but the thought of being locked up in permanent solitary was even worse. As a good commodities trader, he had learned early on when not to overbid on appealing futures. It being his future that was at stake, as opposed to that of a container-ship load of juice concentrate or soybeans, it behooved him to be more cautious than ever.
He was able to take some solace in staring murderously at the Ghouaba whenever their paths happened to cross. How much effect that had on the alien, how much sleep it caused it to lose, Walker did not know. It depended on how the Ghouaba chose to interpret the human’s expression. But it made him feel better to favor the creature with a homicidal stare whenever they locked eyes. Being as unfamiliar as the Ghouaba with the meaning of human expressions, he doubted the Vilenjji would lock him away for that.
“I’d pee on it for you,” George declared wholeheartedly halfway through their regular morning run, “but there’s no telling how our purple hosts would react. Or Ghouaba-boy, either. They might both find it flattering. Or I might get my peter fried by a bolt of lightning. Either way, it’s better to give such things a pass. Among dogs, the necessity for revenge fades with time. Why don’t you just forget about the incident? It’s over and done.” Deep brown eyes looked up at him. “What would you have done with that Vilenjji gadget, anyway, if you’d been able to keep it? Threatened to stab one of them unless they turned their ship around and took us home?”
“I don’t know.” Arms and legs pumping, Walker jogged alongside the dog. “First off, I would’ve tried to discover what it did, what its various functions were.”
George leaped a small growth topped with deep blue bubblelike blossoms. “Maybe it was a suicide device,