“And the Culakhan?” inquired Jed.
“Three ships so badly crippled they have been forced to withdraw. Two more battered. I regret to say that the Culakhan vessel Utchu has blown up.”
“I’m surprised they’re still maintaining contact,” Jed commented.
“As are we, but the Culakhan are nothing if not tenacious. Their—”
“Codes of Conduct, I know.”
“The tide of battle has turned and continues to turn in our favor. It was thought you would wish to know.” Ignoring the tall human seated on the floor, the messenger sped away on his mushroom.
Fifteen minutes later a vast sigh whooshed through the chamber. It was a concerted exclamation on the part of the Shakaleeshva, who had at last received the information they had been waiting for. The battle had been won.
Further confirmation took the form of the Shakaleeshva commander, who arrived with two new associates in tow. “The Culakhan flee. We regret the mutual devastation, especially the destruction of the Utchu. All could have been avoided if our opponents were less rigid in adherence to their Codes. With only three undamaged vessels remaining to them, it became clear they could not win. They have conceded control of this system and withdrawn to deep space, leaving only regrets and imprecations in their wake.” She, for Ross Ed had asked a few questions and was now better able to distinguish gender among Jed’s kind, bowed to the deceased.
“They vow retribution at an unspecified future date. The Shakaleeshva will expect them.”
“I’m dead,” the artificial larynx gurgled. “You’d think that would be enough.”
“They seek another kind of redress. They wish you to reform certain of your compositions which pertain to them and which they perceive as insulting.”
“Screw ’em, aesthetically speaking. My work is immutable.”
This time all three officers bowed. “The Shakaleeshva would not have it any other way.”
“So we’re safe now?” Uncrossing his legs, Ross rose and stretched. One of the Shakaleeshva officers instinctively drew back.
“Yes. Unless the Culakhan choose to assemble even more craft and pursue the matter by attacking the home world of this expeditionary force. I don’t think even my work has managed to insult them quite that much.”
Through the impressive port Ross Ed could see Shakaleeshva starships gathering. A lambent sphere glowed in the distance. He thought it might be Jupiter. “What happens now?”
One of the officers explained. “Repairs must be carried out on those of our own vessels which suffered serious damage. When this has been accomplished we will commence the long journey homeward.”
“You mean your home, not mine.”
This time it was the commander who responded. “If the Culakhan translator is functioning properly, I detect despair in your voice. Please be of good cheer. As protector and savior of the Enlightenment, you will be feted with honors. Anything the Shakaleeshva can provide shall be yours. It would take you a hundred of your lifetimes to enjoy all the wonderments that the Twenty Worlds have to offer.”
Ross was quiet for a long moment before replying carefully. ‘fat’s real generous of you, and I admit I’m curious, but I’m afraid what it boils down to is that the Twenty Worlds just ain’t Texas. Bet you can’t get a decent chicken-fry on any of ’em.”
“The concept does not translate,” declared one of the officers. His superior gestured eloquently.
“I am afraid that it does.” To show that she indeed understood, her peculiar mouth twitched. “We certainly do not have that of which you speak.”
“How about chili? Mesquite-grilled steaks? Longnecks? Biscuits and gravy?”
“Alas, no.” This time the commander gesticulated simultaneously with all three hands. “Perhaps some of which you speak might be synthesized. Our nutritional chemists are renowned for their inventiveness.”
“What about football? Deer hunting? Bass fishing?” These invocations produced the same sorrowful negative. “See? That’s why in spite of all the great things I couldn’t see in a hundred lifetimes, I don’t think I’d have a very good time if I went back with you. Not even with twenty worlds in twelve systems to choose from.”
“I see.” The commander deliberated. “The Twelve Systems count among their orbiting bodies several small inhabitable moons. Considering the service you have rendered, it might be possible to make you master of your own world.”
“I don’t think so,” Ross Ed replied immediately (well, perhaps not immediately, but after a moment’s thought). “I’ve been around long enough to know that I’m not the executive type. Also, the few masters I know about don’t seem to have many friends.”
The commander was obviously disappointed. “Very well. You may meditate on these proposals while we conduct repairs. When they have been completed we will do whatever you desire, though should you chose to return to your world, I will miss the opportunity of introducing you to the Twelve Systems. This I would personally regret.”
“Hey, you can give the rest of the Shakaleeshva my best wishes.”
“As is common, I have under my command the usual scientific complement. They will want to carry out cursory studies of your world before we depart. This is nothing for you to concern yourself with. Rest assured their exploratory vessel is equipped with the latest camouflage equipment.”
Ross Ed smiled. “Glad to hear it. Tell ’em to keep a close lookout for weather balloons.”
“We shall, whatever those may be.”
He and Jed were escorted to a private room, the equivalent of an officer’s suite. It was more than comfortable, provided he was careful not to bump his head on the ceiling. Jed was able to help explain the operation of unrecognizable devices, most of which Ross had no use for anyway. One he did enjoy was the control that expelled bubbles of ice water in midair. Sipping through a magnetic field was a new experience.
Now if they could only do it with beer, he mused.
The food that was provided was pasty and soft, not surprising when one realized that the Shakaleeshva had no teeth. After being reassured by a biochemist that his body would find it nutritious, he forced himself to swallow a few patties. Relatively tasteless, it cried out for pepper or Tabasco, neither of which he expected could be found among the ship’s stores.
Having learned the trick of inhaling water globes without getting any up his nose, he sucked down several in the wake of the paste.
“So you decided you were burned out and came to the conclusion that the best way to recharge your creative juices was to maroon yourself on some primitive planet like Earth.”
“Yeah, only I didn’t make a very good job of it,” the deceased one muttered. “‘Earth.’ What an egocentric appellation. Believe me, Ross Ed, it’s tough being the Enlightenment. You have a lot more privacy and much more of a real life if you’re just a little flash that blinks on and off once in a while. I had to get away. I was desperate.” From the artificial larynx came something that sounded almost like an oath.
“Now I’m dead, and thanks to the Culakhan recharging this suit, I have to decide if I want to stick out this specious existence for another fifty or so of your years.”
“There are those,” the Texan replied quietly, “who would be glad of the opportunity.”
