Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [38]
“Of course they do. They are very good at recognizing and identifying individual species’ characteristics. Unfortunately, they fail to appreciate that I am also far more intelligent than any of them. Where their own abilities are concerned, they are prisoners of a remarkable conceit.”
How fortunate that the K’eremu are not. He thought it, but did not say it. George’s multiple lessons in tactful humility had been well taken. It was time for another diplomatic change of subject. One that poured out of him in a flood. Not wanting her to think less of him than she already did, he hoped the translator did not convey the fullness of his desperation.
“If you talk to the Vilenjji, then maybe you can help me to understand,” he gestured at their surroundings, “all this. Why is this being done? What’s going to happen to all of us? Why do the Vilenjji do this? Are they just curious? Are they embarked on some kind of scientific collecting expedition and we’re the prize specimens?” He also wanted to ask, “What happens to the specimens when we arrive at the Vilenjji’s final destination?” but he could not. Not yet.
Again the swelling sigh. It was remarkable to observe the excessive dilation of her body, which was apparently no more physically damaging to her system than a shrug of his shoulders would be to him.
“Poor biped. You really are ignorant, aren’t you?”
Fine. I’m stupid, he thought. Dumb monkey-boy, that’s me. But at least I’m not an addict. Go ahead and explain it all; I’m listening. Though he knew George would be frantic by now, the dog would simply have to wait.
Settling herself, her flexible limbs splayed around her lower body like the petals of some great red flower, she proceeded to enlighten him.
“First I need a reference point, somewhere to begin. So that I do not repeat myself.” Eyes like deep-set flattened coins regarded him through the drifting, intervening mist. “How much of galactic civilization is your kind familiar with?”
At the risk of seeing not only himself but his entire species knocked down the stupid ladder another couple of rungs, he knew he had no choice but to reply honestly. “None, actually. As far as I know, we’re unaware anything like it exists.”
It was evident Sque found this hard to accept. “You have no astronomy?”
“We do. I guess our stargazers haven’t looked or listened in the right places yet.”
“Or with the right methods. Well, I am not going to give you a complete course in galactic history. Suffice to say you would not be able to follow most of it anyway.” A pause, during which he did not respond. He was getting good at that.
“Accept that a galactic civilization exists. Your world obviously exists beyond its most distant fringes. Mine lies somewhat closer. So do those inhabited by the great majority of our fellow abductees. It is that isolation from the mainstream of galactic civilization that allows the Vilenjji to engage in their nefarious activities with some hope of profiting from them.”
He nodded reflexively. “Then this is all about profit. This is not some kind of scientific collecting expedition.”
She pulsed slightly. K’eremu laughter, he thought. Or maybe just alien flatulence.
“The Vilenjji are no more interested in science than they are in devoting themselves to charitable works. No, I must correct that. One cannot varnish an entire species on the basis of the actions of a few. While I am not intimately familiar with the sociology of Vilenjjian civilization, if that is an appropriate word, I do know that if an evaluation were conducted by an impartial party, they would not rank among the races most noted for their philanthropic attitudes.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“Sell us. Individually if possible, in groups if they feel the need for speed. There are on board this large vessel numerous groups of captives, representing many species: some intelligent, some less so, others simple primitives.” The way she looked at him Walker could not