The Walking Shadow: A Promethean Scientific Romance by Brian Stableford

Author:Brian Stableford [Stableford, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paul Heisenberg, Science Fiction, War, future, Adventure
ISBN: 9781434443588
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-08-04T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Paul ate his way steadily through the meal. First there was some kind of soup, very thick and glutinous, with a taste somewhat reminiscent of asparagus. Then there were several slices of crisp bread, with various savory preserves, most of which he found too highly spiced for his own taste. Finally, there was fruit in a sweet syrup. There was nothing to which he could put a name with any certainty.

When he was finished, he left the table, half-expecting it to fold up and retract, like the mussel in the room where he had first become conscious. It remained a table, though.

This room was a little larger than the one that contained the mussel. Physically, it was similar, even with respect to the blue walls, but it contained the table and dining chair, a bed, an armchair and a computer terminal with a display screen, which he had so far left alone, not having the least idea how to make use of it.

Presumably, his new hosts had some way of monitoring him, because he had hardly sat down in the armchair when the aperture in the wall widened again to permit the entry of two visitors. One was an alien—presumably Remila—and the other was the tall negro who had been with him when they fetched Paul from the prison.

“I’m Gelert Hadan,” said the human. He did not introduce the alien, and Paul concluded that it must be Remila. Paul had put on a light shirt made from a material resembling cheesecloth and a pair of loose-fitting trousers, but Hadan was naked. Paul sat on the bed, offering Hadan the armchair and Remila the dining chair.

Without the speaking-device to assist him Remila could only speak in his own tongue, and did so. His speech sounded rather like strident birdsong, but there was a smooth and liquid transition from one note to the next. He whistled several phrases at Hadan, who simply nodded in reply.

“You are comfortable here?” he asked Paul.

“Moderately,” answered Paul.

“The food was acceptable?”

“Yes. I presume that it was grown from alien seed, brought here by Remila’s people?”

“Not at all,” said Hadan. “It was all grown from Earthly crops, descended from the crops that you knew in your own time. There has been some improvement in yield, and fashions in preparation have changed greatly.”

“But it is the food the aliens eat?”

“Of course,” said Hadan. “Our needs are similar. The La, of course, obtain extra energy from photosynthesis, but an active animal cannot live on the resources of a plant. Their flesh is very little different from ours, and they eat as we do.”

“The La—that’s what they call themselves?”

Hadan glanced sideways at Remila, smiling. “Not quite. It is the name of a musical note, as are the names which we articulate in human languages to apply to most things which have no parallel therein, including names. It is not, even so, a “translation”—the names which they use among themselves are usually more complex.”

“What exactly is your role?” asked Paul.

“I am the leader of the human community.

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