Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [36]
“Now, tell me of you.”
Walker swallowed. In a way that he had not been at any time while constricted within the boulder’s confines, he found himself well and truly intimidated.
6
He could not, he decided, tell this manifestly highly intelligent creature—this female K’eremu, this fifth-stage Sisthra’andam (he didn’t have the slightest idea what that entailed, but it certainly sounded impressive), that his life consisted of trading in bulk foodstuffs, going out on Saturday nights, and watching football on Sundays with his buddies. Somehow that did not seem to stack up meaningfully against someone who had “matriculated to four separate higher levels of erudition.” At least, he felt he could not so tell her now.
Anyway, respective accomplishments and number of limbs aside, they were both in the same boat. Same boat—George!
“I’m sorry. I’ve left my friend behind. Though a representative of a different species, he’s also from my world. My absence will have him seriously worried by now.” He turned to go.
“Wait!”
Looking back, he saw the K’eremu slide in a single, unbroken motion off her rock and onto all tens. It was a graceful movement, like that of several dancers clinging tightly to one another while all advancing together. Slowly, she started toward him. Decapodal limbs notwithstanding, her manifold stride was short and tentative. He had a feeling that sprinting was not a K’eremu forte.
She halted just out of arm’s reach. Tentative hints of conviviality or not, it was clear that she still did not entirely trust him. He could understand her hesitancy. No doubt he more closely resembled a Tripodan, for example, than another K’eremu.
“You wanted to know why you, or any of the others, rarely see me outside my quarters.” A softer sigh this time, less suggestive of possible internal organ inflation. “For one thing, I much prefer the climate in here to that which prevails the majority of the time in the inaptly named ‘grand enclosure.’”
“So you have been outside,” Walker remarked.
“Infrequently. Not since you were brought aboard, I believe.” A faint hint of a desperate longing shaded her words. “I have been on this ship of the Vilenjji for a long, long time.” Limbs stiffened. When they did so, they changed color slightly, shading to a deeper red. “Nevertheless, localized climatic conditions are not what is primarily responsible for my elective solitary.” As argent eyes rotated to look up at him again, he sat down, bringing his own orbs more in line with hers. If she appreciated the courtesy, she did not comment on it.
“Then why do you stay holed up in here?” As he posed the query, he found himself wondering if the Vilenjji translator was capable of conveying the full force of an intentional pun.
“I have no one to talk to,” she replied tersely.
He frowned and noted that she observed the motion of his eyebrows with casual interest. “From what I’ve been told, and seen, the translator implants allow any sentient to talk to any other. At least, it does so among oxygen breathers who converse by modulating air.”
“No, you do not understand.” Ambling close, she sat down next to him. That is, she allowed her flexible limbs to collapse beneath her, causing her upper body to sink vertically until it was once more in contact with supporting stone. “At first, I did try. We K’eremu by nature tend to prefer our own company to that of others, even among our own kind. We are not hermits. Members of a progressive species do not build a civilization by living in isolation from one another. We cooperate when and as necessary. Socially, however, we prefer when possible to keep