“No reason why I can’t do that with whoever’s tucked away in here. If I get in trouble, thanks to you I now know how to fawn and scrape slavishly to get out of it.” He offered his friend a lopsided grin. “If necessary, I can even flop onto my back, stick all four limbs in the air, roll my eyes, and pant with my tongue out.”
“Oh what a funny simian you are,” George growled. “Listen to me, Marc. If there is something living in there, and it never comes out, and it’s not hurt, then it must have good reason for shunning the company of other intelligences. It might not take real kindheartedly to unwarranted intrusion.”
“If it’s dangerous to others, the Vilenjji will stop me. Wouldn’t want one of their trophies to damage another.” Trying to peer through to the corridor beyond, he found that he could not penetrate the gently swirling murk to see if any of their captors happened to be present at that moment.
“Don’t count on it,” the dog warned him. “They didn’t arrive in time to keep the Tripodan from dismembering the Sesu. I’d hate to see that happen to you.”
“Why, George, what a thoughtful sentiment.”
“Sentiment, hell,” the dog growled. “Who else is going to feed me their surplus food bricks?” Stepping to one side, he skittered out of the human’s path. “Go on, then, if you’re so dim-witted that I can’t talk you out of it.”
Walker stepped past him. “Just say that I’m dogged.”
George’s tail had stopped wagging, and he made no attempt to hide his unease. “Curiosity doesn’t kill cats; only humans. Cats are smarter than that.”
With that last observation lingering in his mind, Walker stepped through the unseen divider that separated the grand enclosure from the mist-swept compartment of mystery.
Once inside, the ambient humidity hit him like a wet washcloth across the face. So did something unexpected—the chill. It was cold within the smaller enclosure. Not arctic, but frigid. At least there wasn’t much wind. Well, he was from Chicago. He could handle both the damp and the cold. Were the climatic conditions he was experiencing characteristic of this environment the year-round, or were they seasonal and subject to change? If the former, as he advanced slowly he found himself pitying any creature that had evolved in such conditions. And if they were seasonal, he realized, this might be the being’s equivalent of summer. Really bad weather on its homeworld might be far worse.
What vegetation he encountered was low-lying and tough, designed to minimize exposure to the constant moisture while maximizing its ability to gather sunlight: a difficult duality for any plant to pull off. Gritty soil had accumulated in the cracks and crevices of otherwise smooth, almost black boulders and stones. Exploring, he nearly stepped off a rocky beach and into a pool of water. Kneeling, he dipped a forefinger into the slowly surging liquid and brought it to his lips. Salty, but with less of a bite than that of a terrestrial ocean, and fresher. Different concentration of dissolved minerals, he told himself as he straightened.
He nearly jumped out of his hiking boots when something howled mournfully behind him. When he recognized the source, he wanted to yell angrily at George to keep it down. He didn’t dare. Technically, he was already violating another sentient’s private space. If the Vilenjji were watching, their curiosity to see what would happen next apparently outweighed any hesitation they might feel over one of their specimens intruding on another. Or, he told himself, it might be that they couldn’t care less, and were not even specifically monitoring the situation.
He was just about ready to give up and subscribe to the theory that the living area was indeed unoccupied when a glint of light in the midst of the mist drew him forward. As he grew nearer, he saw that it emanated from a portion of a particularly large isolated basalt boulder that had gone
“Oh what a funny simian you are,” George growled. “Listen to me, Marc. If there is something living in there, and it never comes out, and it’s not hurt, then it must have good reason for shunning the company of other intelligences. It might not take real kindheartedly to unwarranted intrusion.”
“If it’s dangerous to others, the Vilenjji will stop me. Wouldn’t want one of their trophies to damage another.” Trying to peer through to the corridor beyond, he found that he could not penetrate the gently swirling murk to see if any of their captors happened to be present at that moment.
“Don’t count on it,” the dog warned him. “They didn’t arrive in time to keep the Tripodan from dismembering the Sesu. I’d hate to see that happen to you.”
“Why, George, what a thoughtful sentiment.”
“Sentiment, hell,” the dog growled. “Who else is going to feed me their surplus food bricks?” Stepping to one side, he skittered out of the human’s path. “Go on, then, if you’re so dim-witted that I can’t talk you out of it.”
Walker stepped past him. “Just say that I’m dogged.”
George’s tail had stopped wagging, and he made no attempt to hide his unease. “Curiosity doesn’t kill cats; only humans. Cats are smarter than that.”
With that last observation lingering in his mind, Walker stepped through the unseen divider that separated the grand enclosure from the mist-swept compartment of mystery.
Once inside, the ambient humidity hit him like a wet washcloth across the face. So did something unexpected—the chill. It was cold within the smaller enclosure. Not arctic, but frigid. At least there wasn’t much wind. Well, he was from Chicago. He could handle both the damp and the cold. Were the climatic conditions he was experiencing characteristic of this environment the year-round, or were they seasonal and subject to change? If the former, as he advanced slowly he found himself pitying any creature that had evolved in such conditions. And if they were seasonal, he realized, this might be the being’s equivalent of summer. Really bad weather on its homeworld might be far worse.
What vegetation he encountered was low-lying and tough, designed to minimize exposure to the constant moisture while maximizing its ability to gather sunlight: a difficult duality for any plant to pull off. Gritty soil had accumulated in the cracks and crevices of otherwise smooth, almost black boulders and stones. Exploring, he nearly stepped off a rocky beach and into a pool of water. Kneeling, he dipped a forefinger into the slowly surging liquid and brought it to his lips. Salty, but with less of a bite than that of a terrestrial ocean, and fresher. Different concentration of dissolved minerals, he told himself as he straightened.
He nearly jumped out of his hiking boots when something howled mournfully behind him. When he recognized the source, he wanted to yell angrily at George to keep it down. He didn’t dare. Technically, he was already violating another sentient’s private space. If the Vilenjji were watching, their curiosity to see what would happen next apparently outweighed any hesitation they might feel over one of their specimens intruding on another. Or, he told himself, it might be that they couldn’t care less, and were not even specifically monitoring the situation.
He was just about ready to give up and subscribe to the theory that the living area was indeed unoccupied when a glint of light in the midst of the mist drew him forward. As he grew nearer, he saw that it emanated from a portion of a particularly large isolated basalt boulder that had gone
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