Lost and Found Read online

  “My name is Marcus Walker. You can call me Marc. All my fellow cargo do. I come from a world called Earth.”

  “Unknown dwelling place, one among ten thousands, address absent.” Tentacles coiled back against furry flanks while eyestalks remained fully extended above them. “Call me Broullkoun-uvv-ahd-Hrashkin.”

  Walker paused in his chewing. His jaws hurt, but he was determined to finish as much of the food brick as he could, as quickly as he could. There was no telling when his fellow captive might revert to growls and blows, or when the Vilenjji might decide to intervene to break up what had turned into an entirely unexpected species-on-species talkfest.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Honestly said. Be it for you enough to say ‘Braouk,’ then.”

  “Okay.” To Walker, the way the alien’s words reverberated in his head reminded him of a cat hacking up a hairball. But at least it was a phrase, a sound, he could reproduce. And who knew? Perhaps “Marcus Walker” and “Marc” generated similarly unpleasant echoes in the alien’s mind. Communication between species need not be pleasant, so long as it was effective.

  “Species-wise, I am called human,” he added, trying to hold up his end of the conversation.

  “Tuuqalian is me. Far from home, longing for deep skies, myself mourns.” Lids like curved shades rolled down over both eyes, and the monster—all half a ton of teeth, tentacles, and muscle—shook visibly.

  Walker paused, his lower jaw dropping. Was the alien horror crying? No moisture oozed from its bulbous oculars, no sound rose from deep within the hulking body, but it was clearly grieving. For its unseen planet, for hearth and home, for whatever the Tuuqalian equivalent might be. Stunned, Walker did not know what to do. He pondered walking up to the creature and embracing it comfortingly, but did not. Knowing nothing of Tuuqalian ways, he did not know if such a gesture might be misinterpreted. Where a Tuuqalian was concerned, if this specimen was in any way typical of the species, misinterpretation could prove fatal. So he settled for sitting where he was and looking on in respectful silence.

  No, he thought. There was one other thing he could do.

  “Sorrow is sharing, the abducted are together, many one.”

  He did not think it would have passed muster in Mrs. Longcarrow’s senior English composition class, but the effect on the Tuuqalian was immediate. Both eye coverings slid back.

  “You speak comfort and not fear. You seek empathy and not flight.”

  Walker forbore from pointing out that there was nowhere for him to flee to. However, he was more than willing to take credit where due, and also where not. “It just looked like you could use a kind word or two. Oh, sorry—I’m afraid I’m not really much of a poet.”

  “All language is music,” the Tuuqalian rumbled good-naturedly. “It is only the form, the style of the singing, that varies. The poetry lies in the spirit, not in the words.”

  His competitors in Chicago would have found that account of one of the Exchange’s sharpest operators uproarious, Walker knew. But they would not have expressed their dissenting opinion in the presence of the Tuuqalian. Because the alien would not just have intimidated them; its appearance would have sent them screaming.

  Masks, he told himself. Even aliens, it seemed, hid behind masks.

  “You really didn’t want to hurt me, did you?”

  “Yes, I did,” Braouk replied, eyes literally wide. “I wanted to smash you, to rip your limbs from your body, to wind your internal organs like thread around my tentacles, to—”

  “Okay, okay—I get the idea.” Fortunately sated, Walker promptly lost what remained of his appetite. Setting the remnants of the food brick aside, he made a circumspect return to the water cistern. “What about my speaking comfort and seeking empathy?” He drank rapidly, just in case.

  “That was then. This is the now. Timing triumphant.”

  “Glad to hear it. Is that why you’ve never made friends with any of the other captives?”

  “Many reasons clamor for preeminence. That is certainly one of them.”

  “Speaking of friends,” Walker murmured as he used the back of one hand to wipe drops of water from his lips, “there’s someone I wish you could meet.”

  And just like that, the barrier separating the Tuuqalian’s environment from the grand enclosure vanished.

  8

  It so happened that when it deactivated, a preoccupied George was pacing back and forth on the other side of the barrier. He had done so several times every day since Walker had been trapped on the other side. The suddenness of the shift caught him by surprise, and he jumped several inches into the air when the familiar opacity was replaced by an unrestricted view of the enclosure’s interior.

  Keyed up beyond measure, he raced forward—only to dig in all four paws the instant he saw the looming monstrosity that was squatting within arm’s reach of his human. He knew what it was. Like a number of the other captives, he had caught a glimpse of the Tuuqalian on the rare occasions when the Vilenjji had let it roam free throughout the grand enclosure. At such times, he and every other oxygen breather had retreated swiftly to their own environments, to leave the ground-shaking creature to itself. Only when it had returned to its own ecosystem and the intervening barrier reestablished itself did the others dare to emerge from their places of concealment. It was the only resident the others had feared more than the now-long-absent Tripodan.

  When the Vilenjji had dumped Walker into the Tuuqalian’s enclosure, George had immediately lost all hope for his friend. To see Marc now, sitting proximate to and apparently unafraid beside the alien giant, was more than a shock. It was inexplicable. Tentatively, George crept forward in search of explication.

  With his stomach full of Vilenjji food brick and water, Walker wanted more than anything to lapse into a deep and relaxing sleep. But he knew he could not. Not yet. Not until he had obtained a few more answers. Not until he could be more sure of the alien he wanted to think of as a friend, but whose mood, poetic declamations notwithstanding, could conceivably undergo a drastic shift at any moment.

  Then the barrier had cleared, revealing not only the sweep of the grand enclosure, but the presence of one small inhabitant advancing slowly toward him. Had the Vilenjji heard and responded to his wish? Or was the dropping of the barrier simply coincidence? For that matter, why had the Vilenjji deactivated it at all? He asked as much of the Tuuqalian.

  “Who can speak to the motives of the unspeakable?” Braouk declaimed sonorously. “I would like to ask them such things in the goodness of my own time. Alas, I fear I could not keep myself from smashing them, from ripping the limbs from their bodies, from peeling the suckers off their arm and leg flaps one by one, from—”

  Much as Walker was enjoying this particular homicidal soliloquy, his attention was drawn to the approach of a singular canine form. “Maybe the Vilenjji got what they wanted out of putting me in here with you,” he opined. “Maybe that’s why they decided to go ahead and drop the barrier.”

  Eyestalks inclined toward him. “What could they have wished to obtain from such a confrontation?”

  Wiping a few lingering, clinging crumbs from his lips, Walker looked up at the Tuuqalian. “To see how you would react to my presence, and I to yours. To see if you’d kill me.”

  Massive tentacles writhed ferociously. The sound that emerged from between clashing jaws was as succinct as it was bone-chilling. “Masters of malevolence, silent in their wickedness, parasites upstanding.”

  Walker nodded somber agreement. “Couldn’t have put it better myself. I’m no judge of such things, but I think you have a real way with words.”

  Eyes turned away from the human. “When the soul speaks, it sings. Alas, these days it sings only of sadness.”

  An approaching whine drew Walker’s attention. “Anyway, that’s the friend I wanted you to meet. Same planet, different species.” He pointed.

  The Tuuqalian turned in the indicated direction. “Smaller, quadrupedal, furred. T
wo of three sing of familiarity. Which of you is dominant?”

  Walker had to smile. “It’s an ongoing matter of some disagreement.”

  Tentacles gestured. “I welcome your friend. I will not eat his parts; I will not dismember him.”

  Stepping toward the grand enclosure, Walker nodded thoughtfully. “He’ll be relieved to hear that.”

  “Can he also croon lyrical in his speech?” Braouk studied the cautiously approaching shape with evident curiosity and without hunger.

  “I don’t know,” Walker replied honestly. “It never occurred to me to ask him. I can say that he’s never at a loss for something to say.” Cupping his hands to his mouth, he raised his voice. “Hey, George, come on in! It’s okay.” He indicated the alien. “This is Braouk. He’s my friend.” Lowering his hands, he glanced over at the towering Tuuqalian. “You are my friend now, aren’t you?”

  “Now,” the giant replied cryptically. Walker decided this was not the time to force the issue. For the nonce, he would settle for not being dismembered and having his parts eaten.

  “The barrier’s down, Marc!” the dog shouted back. “Run!”

  Walker hesitated. For one thing, if it was so inclined, he had no doubt that the Tuuqalian could chase him down if it wanted to. He had already been witness to the speed of its reactions. For another, if he could sustain and nurture their provisional relationship, he might acquire an ally powerful enough to give even the Vilenjji pause. He had little to lose by trying. It was not as if he was going anywhere. At least, anywhere he wanted to go.

  “No, I’m staying here, George.” He beckoned. “You come on in. I’ll introduce you.”

  Still the dog hesitated. What if the Vilenjji chose to reactivate the barrier—behind him? But he missed Marc. And the human appeared relaxed, confident. A little giddy, maybe, but certainly unharmed. Clearly, there was something to be learned here.

  Rising from his crouch, George broke into an easy trot. Moments later he was leaping into Walker’s open arms. Comforting pats and tongue licks were exchanged. Looming nearby, the Tuuqalian studied the reunion in contemplative silence.

  “It is plain to see that you are good friends,” Braouk finally declared. “Fortunate pairing are, two from same world, comforting another. Alas, alas; I have no such.”

  “Hey,” Walker told him encouragingly, “we’re here. We’ll comfort you.”

  Bulbous eyes turned back to him. “Can you sarang a turath? Is it within you to morrowmay the tingling ubari?”

  “Uh, I’m afraid not, no,” Walker was obliged to reply.

  “Don’t look at me,” George added hastily.

  “I hear hoping, your tendering is touching, emotive still.” The Tuuqalian squatted down on its under-tentacles. “It is good to at least at last have another of understanding and compassion to talk with. I was tired of eating those others who were first placed with me.”

  “You mean, eating with them?” Walker asked uncertainly.

  “No.” Saw-toothed dentition made soft clacking sounds against itself. “You sing too much sense not to know of what I speak.”

  Walker nodded slowly, and a bit unwillingly. “I can see where that would put a damper on casual conversation.” Despite the highly unpleasant image his mind insisted on constructing, he settled himself down on a patch of ground cover while George hesitantly sipped from the water cistern. “Tell me something, Braouk: Why do you react like that? Why did you react with hostility toward me when the Vilenjji put me in here with you? You knew nothing about me, either as an individual or as a representative of a different species.”

  The Tuuqalian did something Walker had not seen before: it sat down. Or rather, it sort of folded up in the middle, ending up not on a nonexistent backside but instead looking like a large lump of yellow-green fur from which four tentacles of varying thickness and length protruded aimlessly. Swaying slowly on the ends of their stalks, the two large eyes assumed even greater prominence, while the menacing maw in the middle was partially concealed from view. If not exactly inoffensive, it rendered the creature’s appearance considerably less threatening.

  “When I was abducted and brought to this vessel, I lost all sense and reason. Four of the unspeakable ones I injured, despite the quantity of narcoleptic they pumped into me.”

  Water dripping from his chin, George looked up from his drinking. “Hey, good for you, big guy! No one else I’ve met here managed to resist with any success.”

  Both spherical eyes swiveled to meet the dog’s admiring gaze. “I am not proud of what I did. The Tuuqalia are a peaceful race. We ask only to be left alone, to sing our songs and compose our verses. Into peace intruding, the hated Vilenjji came, stealing souls. Stealing me.” Tentacles powerful enough to rip trees from the ground knotted in barely controlled fury. “I was not happy.”

  Walker nodded understandingly. “I tried to fight back, too. With little success, I’m afraid. But I tried.”

  Not wishing to be left out of the pissing contest, George ventured tentatively, “I think I might have nipped one of the ones that picked me up.”

  “For a long time,” Braouk told them, “I was irrational in speech and manner. I raged, and struck out blindly. One time I was so upset that my anger became a shield almost strong enough to allow me to pierce the restraints that were placed upon me.” He indicated the invisible electrical barrier that prevented him from reaching the section of corridor immediately outside his enclosure. “But the deeper one drives, the stronger the field becomes, and I was ultimately forced back. After that, I lay for several days recovering from the experience.” Eyes moved up and down on their supportive stalks. “While I could not move, I fed on the pain of my anger.” His voice rose.

  “There are still times occurring when I let the frustration at my condition overtake me. Frenzy of frustration, striking out so blindly, nothing gained!”

  “Easy there, big fella, easy.” An alarmed Walker scuttled a yard or so backward on the ground cover. “We’re friends, remember? Rhyming and reason, talking to each other, exchanging pleasantries?”

  Calming down, Braouk looked back at the anxious, seated human. “That’s not too bad.”

  With a start, Walker realized what he had done. He was unconsciously beginning to become comfortable with the manner and pattern of speech the Tuuqalian preferred. In contrast, George eyed him oddly.

  “You sure you’ve never been off the planet before, Marc?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Although there were times when my profession seemed pretty otherworldly.” Standing, he brushed at the back of his pants, stretched. “You have to learn to contain your temper and manage irritation,” he told Braouk. “There are things you can’t control. Restraining yourself doesn’t mean giving up.” He glanced significantly toward the corridor. “As we say in the commodities business, the day may come when the chance presents itself to make a killing, and you have to be mentally ready to take it.” Would the watching, monitoring Vilenjji translate his analogy, or take his words literally? he wondered.

  The Tuuqalian was large, loud, and intimidating, but he was not unintelligent. He said nothing, preferring instead to gesture with all four tentacles. Walker hoped it was an indication of understanding.

  “Right,” George barked in agreement. “That means not eating friends.”

  “Are you then my friends? I have no friends,” Braouk rumbled despondently.

  “You do now. Two of ’em.” And, showing more courage than Walker had known the dog possessed, the mutt trotted up to the looming wall of the Tuuqalian and deliberately licked the end of one tentacle. Walker held his breath.

  Both eyestalks bent to regard the tiny quadruped. Walker knew how fast the Tuuqalian could move if it wanted to. If Braouk was so inclined, if the alien was the least bit irritated by the gesture, the dog would disappear in a single gulp.

  Instead, Braouk watched silently as George backed away. “So I have friends, it seems. Stiff of joint, awkward of speaking voice, unusual compassion.
I accept your presence, and your offering.” Both eyes focused on the dog. “Do not do that again, though.”

  “Got it,” George replied with alacrity. “Among my kind, it’s a gesture of liking.”

  “Among my kind,” the Tuuqalian responded, “it is a gesture of tasting.”

  “Is that why the Vilenjji have kept you isolated so much, and for so long?” Walker wanted to know, anxious to change the subject. “Because you, uh, kept having dinner with anyone you came in contact with?”

  “To some extent, I am sure. Certainly each time I made a meal of another of their captives, it cost them future profits.” The Tuuqalian looked away. “Partly also, I am sure, they isolated me because I have so often displayed unpredictability in my nature. This prevents them from properly assessing me. My mindless rages they mistake for ignorance, condemning me. Not that, if granted the opportunity, I would in any event wish to squat and communicate pleasantries with them.” Tentacles rippled. “What I would like to do is first remove their outermost limbs, then their genitalia, then their eyes, then their—”

  “I can’t see why they’d shun your presence,” George observed perceptively, “or why they wouldn’t find you a laugh riot at pack parties.” The dog cocked his head to one side. “Do the Vilenjji laugh? You know more about them than Marc or I.”

  “A stimulating question.” Interestingly, when the Tuuqalian turned thoughtful, his eyes moved toward one another, as if seeking enlightenment in each other’s reflection. “I have not observed any behavior that could be definitively classified as such. But then, those times when they enter into the presence of the ensnared may not be the ones when they elect to relax in collective jollity.”