Lost and found_ a novel - Alan Dean Foster [90]
“That is possible,” Sque readily conceded. “However, there is a reasonable chance that we may be able to make it to a nearby inhabited world before Vilenjji instrumentation can lock on with sufficient assurance to run us down.” Tentacles writhed. “I ask you: Is it not worth trying?”
Walker rose from where he had been sitting. His depression had not left him, but a surge of determination was beginning to push it aside. “Anything’s better than stumbling around in the dark waiting for the Vilenjji to pick us up again. Even,” he heard himself saying, voicing a phrase he once could never have imagined himself mouthing, “if we die trying.”
“That is my nice, single-minded little biped,” Sque commented approvingly. “We shall make the effort.”
“If you can conceive of doing something like this, won’t the Vilenjji?” George observed sagely. “And in that case, won’t they have their secondary craft secured, with guards posted to watch over them?”
The K’eremu eyed him pityingly. Which is to say, as usual. “Firstly, to so secure a secondary vessel designed to facilitate swift escape in the event of emergency would be to defeat its purpose. Second, the disregard in which the Vilenjji hold their captives precludes their belief that any of them could attempt something so audacious. To allow the latter would be to admit to an intelligence and abilities on the part of their captives that would raise discomfiting ethical questions about their commerce that the Vilenjji would much prefer not to ponder.” Tentacles bobbed and weaved for emphasis as she regarded each of them in turn.
“That is not to say we will be able to stroll right up to a relief craft, saunter through its open accessway, take possession of it, and disengage from this vessel without first having to deal with an impediment or two. But it is not to say that it will be impossible, either. We will know better what obstacles we face when we are in a position to act on them.”
“And when might that be?” With every passing moment, now that a glimmer of hope had been raised, Walker was feeling more and more revitalized.
Within their recesses, horizontal eyes went dark. “If the ship schematic I have memorized is accurate, and we encounter no diversions or delays, I should think by the time we have all passed through our next sleep cycle.” Silver eyes opened. “Tomorrow, as you would say.”
Tomorrow. Walker gazed down at the supercilious, conceited, arrogant alien. “Just when were you going to tell us about this, Sque?”
“Tomorrow,” she replied coolly. “Your present wretched emotional condition persuaded me to enlighten you a bit sooner. I realize it may require an unusual effort on your part, but do try to sustain some sense of zeal until we are free or dead, won’t you? In support of the endeavor I propose, your purported mind is surplus baggage, but in order to succeed I suspect we will have need of as many limbs as possible.”
“Where the hell does that leave me?” George wanted to know.
The K’eremu’s eyes dropped to the dog. “Underfoot, most likely. A distraction, at the least. Do not despair. While I can envision numerous possible scenarios, I have no doubt that each will have their part to play in this forthcoming drama.”
“Tomorrow, then.” Walker found himself gazing once more out the port. All of a sudden, the rainbow incandescence did not seem quite so threateningly vast, quite so terribly intimidating. “What do we do now?”
Sque turned slightly away from him. “We have already enjoyed a small measure of success by employing the tactic known as a strategic diversion. I have in mind another.”
“Using the Vilenjji’s own technology against them?” George inquired eagerly. “Shutting something else down?”
“Rather more low-tech than that,