Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [60]
He nodded slowly. “What if two of us happened to whisper to each other while the other two sang, or recited poetry. Loudly. Wouldn’t that confuse their auditory pickups?”
Sque considered. At the mention of poetry, Braouk looked more alert than usual. “Quite possibly. However, it does not matter if we manage to agree on a course of action privately. We can only act on a course of action publicly. There is no way we can hide ourselves from the Vilenjji’s eyes, may they fester with disease and dry out. Even the most basic surveillance equipment operated by brigands such as our captors should be capable of seeing through rain, fog, snow, and if properly directed, solid stone. There is nowhere we can hide from them.” Unexpectedly turning her attention to the watching Tuuqalian, she added, “I am not expecting to encounter elegance of language from one with a reputation for consuming his audience. I am most interested to hear proof of this doubtful claim for myself.”
“Yes, Braouk.” To his credit, Walker picked up on her meaning immediately, sidling over to be as close to her as possible. Trying to appear enthusiastic without wincing, he added, “Sing us a saga of your people! Sing it bold, sing it clear. Sing it loud.”
The Tuuqalian hesitated. Alien or not, Walker’s stare was enough to galvanize the giant with purpose. Immediately, he launched into recitation, booming forth verse in clipped yet stentorian tones forceful enough to all but induce ripples in the enveloping mist.
While the towering alien thundered back and forth, tentacles writhing, eyestalks contorting, voice reverberating, Walker and George huddled as close to Sque as they could without sitting on her tentacles.
“Even if this juvenile ploy should succeed in preventing the Vilenjji from overhearing our conversation,” she whispered, “it does not matter.”
“Are they likely to intervene if they can’t?” Walker voiced the question as softly as he could.
“I think not. We appear to be listening to and commenting upon your weighty friend’s deafening oration. There is no reason for the Vilenjji to suppose that the subject of our ongoing conversation might include plans for sedition.”
“You say that you’re smarter than the Vilenjji.” While talking, the human kept his attention focused on the boisterous Braouk, who was by now getting fully into the spirit of the moment. Good, Walker thought. It would be that much more successful in distracting any observing Vilenjji.
“If I managed to get you out of here, maybe with one other to assist you, do you think you could find a way to deactivate the external barrier that seals off all the enclosures from the rest of this ship?”
She almost—almost, but not quite—turned sharply to look at him. “You speak of doing something impossible and follow it by asking me to do likewise.”
His tone tightened. “If I can hold up my end of the bargain, you have to come through with yours. Otherwise, the consequences might reflect poorly on a certain someone’s loudly expressed notions of racial superiority.”
“I have never turned from a challenge. Certainly not from one posited by an ill-mannered primitive.” One tentacle crept sideways until it was resting meaningfully on his thigh. “You spoke of freeing me and perhaps one other to try this thing. I sense that you do not think of yourself as that other. After expending so much effort, you will then remain behind?”
“For the idea I have in mind, it can’t be otherwise. I have to stay behind, for reasons that will become clear when I explain it.” He nodded toward the