Diuturnity's Dawn

  "We have to start with words." Anjou shifted her seat. "When we have agreed on certain words, then relevant deeds can be implemented. But treaties must come before action." Am I getting through to this ancient? she wondered. What was the eint thinking? Unlike face-to-face negotiations with another human, there was no way to tell from simply looking at the eint what was going through her mind. The chitinous countenance was inflexible.

  "You speak well for your proposals, you and those who side with you. As for myself, I belong to that great, surging, heaving mass of egg-layers and tenders that has not yet made up its mind." A truhand wagged in Anjou's direction, and she did not need a visual guide to interpret its significance. "Push us too hard, young female, and we will wall up our tunnels away from you. You will not be able to reach us."

  Anjou struggled to remain confident. It wasn't easy; the eint was offering little in the way of encouragement. "Then as they are written, you disagree with the basic tenets of the covenants?"

  "I did not say that." Plucking a smaller, darker branch from the nearby foliage, the eint munched contentedly on azure petals. Her mouthparts made fastidious grinding noises as they masticated the succulent herbage. "What I think, what the majority of those I represent and those I deal with daily in council think, is that your kind and mine have a perfectly good relationship right now. There is no need to extend it further, except insofar as concerns the AAnn."

  Anjou watched something small and metallic flit through the surrounding undergrowth. "We have no quarrel with the AAnn. Therefore we can't promise you any more assistance as regards them than what already exists. If they were to make some kind of serious frontal attack on a thranx world, that would be different. We would be bound, even in the absence of a formal military treaty, to render aid because of the help you gave us during the Pitarian War."

  "Would you, my dear?" Carwenduved studied the human closely, wishing she understood the meaning of those remarkable twists and contortions that flowed through the biped's flexible epidermis. "There is no formal reciprocation. You are not obligated to assist us, just as we were not obligated to help you against the Pitar. There is no treaty, no pact that requires you to provide such military assistance. We helped you against the Pitar because we thought it was the right thing to do. In the event we are assaulted by the AAnn, will your people believe similarly?"

  Diplomat though she was, it was too big a lie for Anjou to countenance. Besides, the eint probably knew in detail whereof she spoke. "I can't answer that, Carwenduved. It would depend on the circumstances. I can tell you that humans have always stood up against injustice, no matter where it has occurred."

  "That is good to know. Is it so even among those of you who refer to us as 'bugs,' and would like to squash us underfoot like our tiny namesakes that occupy your worlds?"

  "Shapeism is conspicuous among the thranx as well as among my people. It is a primitive animosity that will eventually die out."

  "As it must also among my kind." The eint sighed, her b-thorax expanding and contracting sharply. "But for now, it exists, and must be dealt with." She stirred on her bench. "Although I admit there are those on the council who would like to forge a tighter relationship with your kind, they are outnumbered by the many who believe that the present situation is perfectly satisfactory. They see no need to dig the two burrows closer together. You have your worlds; we have ours. While we can share the same environments, we have different preferences. We like hot, humid worlds with a higher oxygen content than yourselves. From our point of view, you like to live in dry, cold places where no thranx would be comfortable for very long, and where depending on the relevant extremes we need special equipment to survive. There is no direct competition. Therefore, there is no need to modify the formalities that presently exist between us. The galaxy is a big place, and our explorations and exploitations need never overlap."

  Anjou could not hide her disappointment. She had worked so hard to secure this meeting, and except for some casual, albeit friendly, chitchat, it was going nowhere. The eint was polite, but firm. "It could be so much more. The way our species worked together during the Pitarian War showed that."

  "More than what, yrriik ? What more could we wish for than what we already have? Trade proceeds as trade always does, according to the benefits that accrue to those participating. There is mutual respect, and even a certain degree of sometimes grudging mutual admiration for each other's unique qualities. There is even beginning to be appreciation on a deeper level, as witness occasional events like this intercultural fair on your new colony world of Pawn."

  " 'Dawn,' " Anjou politely corrected her. "But it's not the same. It's not what it could be." Held in check since she had arrived, excitement finally overcame her professional equivocation. "We've never encountered anyone like the thranx. Physically, socially, you're completely different from us. Yet we enjoy so many of the same things. Not only art, but even humor. I don't know anyone who has spent time among you who has not made a permanent friendship or two."

  She was waving her arms about now. Instead of alarming the elderly eint, it relaxed the alien. Speaking frequently as they did with their four arms, it was a pleasure for a thranx to see a human similarly utilizing her limbs. Carwenduved studied the movements with interest, wondering at the meaning of each individual gesture. She would have been disappointed to learn that nearly all served only to emphasize and did not carry specific meanings of their own.

  "Friendship is a fine thing," the eint declared when Anjou finally ran down. "But you speak as one who has spent more time among us than most of your kind. Others are not so sanguine. What is to say that a closer, tighter association might not harm rather than help relations between our kinds? In the absence of proof, continued caution would seem to be the best course."

  Here, at least, was a line of objection Anjou had anticipated and prepared for. "There are the outposts here, at Azerick, and in the Amazon Basin on Earth. In both places, humans and thranx have developed a working relationship that goes beyond the formal. Everyone gets along. There have been just one or two reported incidents of violent conflict between settlers, scientists, and locals. The more time our people spend in one another's company, the closer grows the bond between them. We have seen this happen over and over again. There is occasionally some mutual distaste involving appearance, but this soon passes as everyone gets to know everyone else." She nodded at the eint. "Your own reports, I am sure, show similar maturation."

  "No one disputes that our species can get along, or that individuals can become fond of one another." Reaching out with a foothand, she ran the two center fingers down Anjou's arm. "I am growing fond of you. Your persistence gains you merit. And I must confess that I myself . . ." She looked away - or at least, Anjou thought that she did. With those compound eyes, it was hard to tell. "I am inclined to think that the proposals you set forth in these documents should be given serious consideration."

  Anjou contained herself. Out of the cool, calm resistance of the conversation had come the first glimmer of hope. "It would be," she replied with as much gravity as her small voice could muster, "the greatest thing to happen to our two species since each of us independently detected the presence of intelligent life beyond our respective homeworlds. Think of it! An alliance between two different intelligences that for the first time in this part of the galaxy advanced beyond the usual agreements on trade and culture. Thranx would be able to visit any human world they wished, at any time. Humans would gain reciprocity of movement with the Greater Hive. We would share government, thus reducing many large expenses. And no potentially antagonistic species would dare to threaten so powerful a regional alliance. You would be safe forever from possible depredations on the part of the AAnn."

  "Don't underestimate the determination and capability of the AAnn." The eint gestured first-degree vigilance. "They are afraid of nothing. Cautious, yes. Deliberate and calculating, yes. But afraid, no. You are right, of course. Such an all-encompassing alliance would give th
em considerable pause, and would therefore be to our great advantage. But it goes beyond the military commitment the Great Hive seeks."

  Anjou sat back. "I don't see you ever acquiring the one without the other." It was time for bluntness, no matter how unpleasant. "Despite what I said earlier, I personally don't see the great mass of humankind going to war to save the thranx. To save a human-thranx society, or humanx as some of us have taken to calling it, that would happen without debate."

  "And I don't see the council moving in the direction of sharing government and dissolving at one dig all the usual barriers that stand between us."

  Anjou wished there was another representative she could caucus with, someone else she could turn to for advice on how to proceed. But there was not. She was alone. The eint had agreed to see her, and only her, because of the Bryn'ja. There were at present no other diplomats serving at Azerick who happened to be pregnant.

  "Will you at least present the formal proposal to the other members of the council?"

  "They have much to occupy their time, and are very busy. Not only are they responsible for the stable operation of government here on Hivehom; they must consider progress and development on our own colony worlds."

  "And wouldn't those functions be easier if they could be shared?"

  The eint whistled quiet amusement. "You are righteously dedicated in this matter, I see."

  "I, and those who think like me, dearly desire what we believe to be best for both our peoples."

  "Well, the Pitarian War certainly gave a boost to your aspirations. There are those among the thranx who would sign such a treaty tomorrow. Unfortunately, they do not lie in council. But yes, I will present the relevant documents for consideration."

  Anjou's heart leaped. It was not everything she had hoped for, but it was realistically as much as she could have expected from the visit.

  "And now, enough of interstellar diplomacy, of debating the fate of worlds." Rising from her supportive bench, the rickety eint clasped Anjou's right hand in a foothand. "Such softness! One cannot only feel the warmth, but see blood vessels beneath the skin. I marvel that it does not tear as easily as a leaf."

  Anjou let her hand lie freely in the hard chitinous grasp. It was like holding hands with a crab. "Amazing stuff, human skin. I'm afraid we don't take care of it the way we should."

  "Yet if torn, it bleeds more slowly than do we." Antennae dipped forward, stroking the human's exposed arm. "And this business of exuding salt water through your epidermal layer. Most bizarre."

  "No less strange than breathing through one's neck," Anjou responded. "Or employing a set of limbs alternately as hands or feet. Or smelling through feathers that stick out of one's head."

  "You speak querulously of normal things." Tugging gently, the eint drew Anjou away from the bower where they had been talking to lead her down another garden path. "Not being a biologist, I take it you have never seen a nursery, or visited a pupation station."

  "No," Anjou admitted. At the eint's words, images swam in her mind of glistening larvae and newly matured adult thranx bursting forth from swollen body cases.

  "Srr!!lpp, if you're going to speak of merging our civilizations, our cultures, you need to know more than what they show you at formal briefings." The two fingers and two thumbs that had been holding Anjou's hand moved around to her lower back and pressed, urging her forward.

  "You will come with me now, Fanielle Anjou. It's time you met the kids."

  8

  "Maman, look at the funny-looking man walking the big bug!"

  The well-dressed woman leaned over and whispered urgently to the little girl, who looked to be about seven. "Hush now, Iolette. It's not polite to call someone funny-looking. It's only his clothes that are different. And he's not walking the big bug; they're walking together. That's a thranx, sweetheart. They're not really bugs. They just look a lot like bugs."

  From the other side of the seven-year-old, her father bent over to speak. "A bug is an insect, sweetheart. The thranx are not insects. They're people, just like you and me, and they're supposed to be very smart."

  The little girl's black ringlets hovered about her forehead as she looked sharply up at her father. "Can we go meet them, Dadan? Can we say hello?"

  Mother and father exchanged a glance. "I don't know, sweetheart," the mother murmured. "Are you sure you really want to? I thought you told me that bugs were yucky."

  The girl was insistent. Perhaps it was the play of color of the thranx's iridescent blue-green exoskeleton, or the flash of light from the red-banded golden compound eyes. Something drew her in its direction. "But Dadan says thranx are not bugs. Please, Maman, please!"

  The woman hesitated, but her husband was encouraging. "This is supposed to be an intercultural fair, Peal. It would give her something to talk about in her next age-group mixer back home. I'll bet none of her friends have ever met a thranx in person."

  "They haven't, Dadan." Ringlets and wide blue eyes swung around on the reluctant mother. "Please, Maman!"

  "What can it hurt, Peal?" the husband wondered aloud. "Actually, I wouldn't mind face-to-facing one of the things myself. And if that guy at its side isn't walking it, maybe he's some kind of handler or something. See, they're wearing similar symbols. I'm sure it's safe." A sudden thought made him smile. "I know! It's some kind of wandering exhibit, as opposed to all the static displays we've been seeing on stages and in tubes."

  Under assault from two sources, the woman finally relented. "Well, if you're certain it's safe . . ." Making sure her daughter's fingers were grasped firmly within her own, she glanced down one last time. "You stay close to Maman, Iolette."

  "That larva has been staring at me for some time." Twikanrozex gestured with antennae and truhand in the direction of the dark-haired little girl who was eagerly leading her parents toward him and his companion.

  "Girl," Briann corrected his friend. "It's a little girl, not a larva. I know that for you they amount to the same thing, but I promise you no human parent wants its offspring, however cute, referred to as a larva. The word brings up unpleasant atavistic racial memories."

  "Little girl. I will remember. But I think larva is a better description. Compact."

  "I won't argue with you." Glancing down at himself, Briann made sure his robe was straight. As always, he wanted to make a good impression. Good impressions first, they had been told. Conversions later.

  The approaching adults looked uncomfortable. The woman, Briann noted, studiously avoided looking directly at Twikanrozex. "Hello," the man began, "I hope you don't mind, but my daughter expressed a desire to . . ."

  "Can I touch it, Dadan. Can I touch it?" Wide-eyed, the little girl was bouncing up and down with barely repressed energy and excitement.

  "You have to excuse our daughter," the woman began apologetically. "She's never seen a thranx before. We come from New Riviera, and we've only seen thranx there on the tridee. So you can understand that - " She broke off abruptly, clearly distracted by something unexpected. "What is that exquisite fragrance?"

  Briann repressed a smile. It was always the women who noticed it first. "I think you're probably referring to the body odor of my companion." He indicated Twikanrozex, who stood patiently. The sensitivity of humans to thranx body scent was no mystery to him. One had only to breathe in that of humans to understand the attraction.

  "Really?" The woman had come unglued. Her eyelids were fluttering as she inhaled deeply. "I've heard about it, read about it, but it's not the same. Words just don't - they don't . . ."

  "Peal, control yourself." The man breathed in and did smile. "I can't quite place it myself. Attar of plumeria? Essence of protea?"

  "Everyone responds a little differently because of subtle variations in the neural connection between their olfactory nerve endings and the brain. And no two thranx seem to smell exactly alike." Briann was always gratified when the hesitant and sometimes openly hostile drew near enough to get a whiff of his friend. Twikanrozex's personal perf
ume was a better introduction to his species than any carefully scripted salutation.

  As her mother stood swaying slightly, her eyes half closed in a private ecstasy of olfaction, the little girl broke free of the woman's diminished grip and rushed forward. Twikanrozex recoiled ever so slightly. Remembering the eighty-fourth maxim propounded by the founders Shanvordesep and Cirey Pyreau allowed him to relax and accept the assault. Human offspring, he had been told, were by nature far more physically forward and demonstrative than their thranx counterparts, not least because they already had arms and legs since they did not experience pupation. So when the girl reached out to lightly touch his thorax, he did not flinch.

  "Iolette." The woman was coming out of her fragrance-suffused haze. "Maybe you shouldn't - "

  "It's all right," Briann was quick to reassure her. "This is what the fair is about, really. Not rides and exhibits and food." He nodded to where the wide-eyed girl was enthusiastically exploring his companion. "This." When the woman looked uncertain, her husband put a reassuring arm around her.

  Dropping to all sixes to bring himself closer to the young biped's level, Twikanrozex dipped his head in her direction. "Would you like to feel my antennae? That's what we smell with."

  Reaching out and up, the girl gently let the feathery projections slide through her small fingers. "They're soft! Like feathers." She looked the alien directly in the eyes, utterly unafraid of its proximity. "You people smell really nice, but you sure are funny-looking!"