"It does not matter what I think." Being possessed of a highly amenable and easygoing personality, Joshumabad was noticeably unhappy at the direction the conversation had taken. Not that he had any choice. His mandate called for him to visit, learn, report, and deliver instructions. This he had done and would continue to do, no matter how unpleasantly he was received.
Yeicurpilal hastened to intervene between the two, conversationally as well as physically. "Nilwengerex is right. We are doing our best here. All the wishes of the council will not make the humans move any faster."
"Not even as fast as that larva." With a foothand, Nilwengerex pointed off to his left.
The girl who was running out of the palm trees and down onto the beach could not have been more than eight or nine. Even when inclined fully forward to make use of all six legs, the three thranx were taller. Leaning back on trulegs Only, they would tower over her. She was as brown as the scattered pieces of shattered driftwood that studded the shore like so many gypsy hieroglyphs, with straight dark hair and dancing eyes the color of small black shells. Laughing and giggling, she bent to pick up a stick and throw it toward Sulawesi. It did not quite reach the water.
Turning slightly and bending in quest of another missile, she caught sight of the thranx. Having halted at her unscheduled intrusion, the aliens stood watching quietly. Joshumabad in particular was at once captivated and repelled. From his preflight studies he knew what very young humans looked like, but this was the first time he had seen one in the flesh. The unexpected encounter left him only momentarily speechless.
"Is... is it dangerous?"
"Not usually." Nilwengerex responded in his usual dry, clipped tones. "Not one this small. The adolescents are potentially lethal. Unlike us, their bodies assume adult form and bulk preposterously in advance of their minds. But one such as this should be quite harmless, though even infants are capable of surprising violence."
Straightening, the little girl came toward them. She was wide-eyed and unafraid.
"What should we do?" Joshumabad fought hard to suppress the panic that was rising within him.
"Nothing," Yeicurpilal informed him. "Remain as you are. Let the larva come to us."
Not without some concern, Joshumabad did as he was told. The girl halted a couple of arm's lengths away, one finger pressing against her lower lip. "Hello, bugs. What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" Nilwengerex asked her in Terranglo so fluent that Joshumabad was startled. He knew the specialist was competent in the local language, but he'd had no idea he was so skilled. "This is a restricted area. Only authorized adult humans are supposed to have access." He looked beyond her. "How did you get in?"
"Hole in the fence," she replied without hesitation. "Maman says the big storm last week made it." She glanced back over a shoulder, though not to the degree a thranx could manage, and gestured importantly with one finger. "We're having a picnic."
Nilwengerex looked to his superior. "We must report this violation."
Yeicurpilal indicated resignation. "Of course. The humans will be most upset."
"At this point any kind of reaction we can get from them would be welcome. The council's official impatience notwithstanding - " He arched his antennae significantly in Joshumabad's direction." - I look forward to the resumption of proper negotiations and exchanges." So saying, he stepped toward the child.
Joshumabad's instinctive reaction was to restrain the other male. Aware that Nilwengerex was the specialist in thranx-human interaction and he only a recently arrived newcomer, he held back. Lowering his head, Nilwengerex extended a truhand in an odd fashion.
"I am Nilwengerex. These are my friends, Yeicurpilal and Joshumabad. We are pleased to meet you."
"Hi. I'm Tomea." Reaching out, she took the extended truhand and shook it up and down. Joshumabad was impressed at how readily and easily Nilwengerex flowed with the gesture, which the representative quickly recognized as the most common human method of greeting. "It's nice to meet you.. I've heard Maman and her friends talking about you." The doubly perforated organ located in the center of her face expanded and contracted several times. Following this, the corners of the flexible mouth curved upward and the jaws parted, exposing white teeth. "You smell nice."
"Tomea!" The voice was deeper than the girl's, the tone agitated. "Tomea, where are y--?"
A subjective peroration split the air, startling Joshumabad who instinctively retreated several body lengths. Yeicurpilal did likewise, but Nilwengerex released the girl's fingers and stepped back only reluctantly. Chances to study human larvae were rare. He had yet to encounter one that readily accepted contact.
The female who came running down the beach was not very large. The thin, loose folds of her single garment fluttered like bird wings around her slim body. Reaching the girl, she clutched her by the shoulder with a severity that stunned Joshumabad. Turning her away, the mature female lectured her offspring as they walked back the way they had come. Occasionally the adult human glanced back at the three motionless thranx as if fearing pursuit. Joshumabad could not be sure, but it appeared to him that the larva was protesting the intervention.
"Do they always treat their progeny so roughly?" The visiting representative watched the adult human march her young off the sand and back into the trees.
"Frequently." Nilwengerex did not turn away until the two humans had been swallowed up by the palm grove. "It is a component of the naturally aggressive nature of the adults that is passed down to their brood. From my studies, it is clear to me that the humans themselves have little idea why they act in such a fashion, except that they always have."
"It may be a reflection of the fact that among mammals the young do not go through a pupal stage where all they can do is passively listen and learn." Yeicurpilal had evidently done ample reading and research on her own into the habits of these peculiar creatures.
"The break in the fence must be reported so it can be repaired." Nilwengerex glanced again at the representative of the Grand Council. "Not to keep us from wandering beyond the restricted area, but to keep curious and potentially dangerous humans out. No one wants a repetition of the Amazon hive incident."
"Certainly not I," Joshumabad agreed with feeling. He turned back. "It is growing late, and I would rather not be caught outside the compound after dark. You two may be comfortable in the night of this world, but I am not." Reflecting his agitation, his antennae bobbed and weaved aimlessly. "Yet despite such revelations, all reports indicate that those of you stationed here enjoy your contact with these humans."
"They are all right," Nilwengerex conceded. "They simply have a surplus of energy that they have never been able to channel properly. When our relations have become sufficiently close, it is hypothesized by those specialists concerned with such matters that we may be able to offer them some assistance in such matters."
"If our relations become sufficiently close," a brooding Joshumabad reminded him. "Too much energy, you say?"
"Not I," Nilwengerex corrected him. "Our students of alien psychology. Though I would not dispute their assessment."
"Chrri!k, at least it has done them well. They have advanced rapidly."
Yeicurpilal had been silent for a while. Now she spoke anew. "Only technologically."
Joshumabad eyed her curiously. "Your words are straightforward, but your gestures are circumspect. What else do you mean to say?"
The Grand Council's second-in-command on Earth regarded the visitor evenly. "You saw the reaction of the adult to our interaction with the larva. It does not matter if juveniles are involved or not, or only adults, or specialists, or even those who seek to help us bond with their kind. Beneath every interaction, whether successful or a failure, hopeful or uncertain, enthusiastic or rote, the undertones are the same. Sometimes they are subtle, sometimes blatant, but they are almost never absent."
Indicating confusion, Joshumabad turned to Nilwengerex for clarification. "What is she talking about?"
&nb
sp; "These humans," the specialist informed him. "They are indeed technologically advanced. Even a cursory study of their history shows that they have overcome extraordinary odds and exceptional difficulties to reach the place where they are today, having successfully preserved their own world while settling many others. In spite of this, what the senior female says is indisputable. One does not have to be a qualified xenologist to see it."
"See what?" Joshumabad demanded impatiently.
Nilwengerex regarded the visitor quietly. "That they are not happy."
Chapter 6
Minister Saluafata was not nervous about meeting his Pitarian counterpart. Having on occasion dealt with the eminently reasonable yet harrowingly grotesque-looking thranx, he anticipated no difficulty in sitting down at the table with one or more nonhumans who resembled tridee luminaries more than visiting aliens. He looked forward to the forthcoming interaction. Only the outcome concerned him.
This was to be no ordinary meeting. Much more was at stake today than superficial agreements on cultural exchange or travel rights. Such matters could be, and were being, handled by assistant ministers and second-echelon diplomats. Only for something as important as this was someone of Saluafata's stature personally involved.
That stature extended to his physical as well as mental proportions. Though not particularly rangy, the minister was huge. A legacy of his chiefly forefathers, he was almost as wide as he was tall, and very little of it was fat. A walking door plug, some of his colleagues and underlings had called him. More adept at plugging crises than doorways, Saluafata was used to disarming initially intimidated adversaries with a smile as wide as the lagoon that framed his island home. When that failed to soothe nervous opposites, a song or two sung in his startlingly accomplished falsetto inevitably produced grins and delighted laughter.
Like a whale that had been subjected to reverse evolution and had reclaimed its hind legs, he settled himself into the chair at one end of the table. His personal secretary Ymir sat down on his left while the prim and always correct second undersecretary for Extraterrestrial Affairs, Mandan HoOdam, assumed the empty seat on his right. Carafes of chilled water were positioned in front of the delegates, along with small cobalt crystal bowls of assorted nuts. The Pitarians, it had been learned, had developed a liking for such terrestrial food.
A guard stood at either end of the room. Neither of them carried visible weapons - the operative word, Saluafata knew, being visible. The meeting place was a cheerful hemisphere with a single wide window that overlooked the placid tropical sea beyond. Set high on a Balinese hillside, the carefree beaches of Sanur were visible in the distance. They were filled with visitors cavorting in the warm waters, none of whom were aware of the somber significance of the meeting that was about to take place. All but a few were employed by the planetary government in the service of extraterrestrial relations. Overdeveloped Bali had long since ceased to be a stopping point for gallivanting tourists.
The entire facility needed to be moved, Saluafata mused. With the increase in deep space exploration and expansion, it had outgrown the available site. Nor did he suspect that he was the only diplomat or worker who felt uneasy laboring in the shadow of the periodically active volcanoes that dominated the island and this part of the world. Already, bureaus and agencies in need of additional room were being shifted southward, to the east coast of the southern continent. There was a surplus of flat, empty land there, and an enormous shuttleport was being built to service the increasing volume of offworld travel.
HoOdam murmured while scanning the privatized contents of her reader. An invisible beam from the reader periodically bounced off her retinas and back to the device, indicating that the individual gazing down at it was lawfully entitled to do so. If that proved not to be the case, the print on the screen would have remained as invisible as the security beam.
"What do you think, Api? Will they be difficult?"
He shrugged, and the movement took measurable time to travel from his columnar neck all the way down his enormous shoulders to his upper arms. "There's no way to tell in advance,
Mandy. So far it's our government that has been doing most of the giving. The Pitar have been more than friendly; they've proven themselves amenable. But this is the first time we've proposed anything on this scale." Reaching forward, he poured himself a glass of water. Since there was no established protocol for dealing with the Pitar, he had no basis to fear that his simple gesture might be breaking it.
"What if they refuse?" Recorder at the ready, Ymir was running a hand repeatedly through his short, blonde hair. Saluafata recognized the nervous habit but did not point it out. Everyone was edgy, and it was a harmless enough release. The Pitar were not like the thranx, who saw every gesture, no matter how inconsequential, as the equivalent of a verbal comment. When dealing with the insectoids, a person had to be conscious of his every movement lest unexpected confusion or, worse, unintended offense be given. The Pitar did use their hands occasionally, but not as a component of interpersonal communication. That a hardworking handful of them had already become fluent in Terranglo only added to the ease of interchange. They were much better at it than the thranx.
Of course, he reminded himself, their speaking apparatus was far better suited to the task. Technically, the higher compliments were due the thranx who had mastered human speech. As always, when compared to the Pitar, the insectoids came off looking bad. But who wouldn't, the minister mused? Alongside the Pitar, everyone tended to appear ungainly and graceless.
He had resolved that the conference would not be affected by such superficialities of aspect. Personalities would not become involved. The forthcoming talks were too important, the matter at hand too consequential, to founder in a sea of perfunctory perception. He would not allow himself to be distracted. Besides, if not as attractive as the Pitar, he could be much more charming.
A soft musical tone chimed twice. Pushing back the specially ordered oversized chair, he and his colleagues rose as the Pitarian delegation entered. He recognized Urin-Delm and Jpar-Vhet from previous encounters. Both males were tall, muscular, perfectly formed, and wore the familiar blank Pitarian expression of noncommittal. They were clad in simple gray jumpsuits unadorned except for embroidered insignia that identified them as to both name and function. They flanked a mature female who... They flanked...
The minister swallowed hard as humans and Pitar alike took their seats more or less simultaneously. To his secretary he whispered,"Close your mouth."
Even by Pitarian standards of beauty the female, was extraordinary.
Hair the hue of turquoise framed her face like the ultimate expression of the Zuni silversmith's art. Her eyes were a deep royal purple. Lips that did not belong in any species' diplomatic service were lightly parted, and the molecules of air that rode in and out of that exquisite mouth were repeatedly blessed. As for the rest of her, perfection was too mild a word to serve as an adequate description. In a space of less than a minute, Apileaa Saluafata, minister for Extraterrestrial Affairs, virtually forgot who he was.
A nudge in his capacious side rudely induced his fall from heaven. Though much taken by the appearance of all three Pitar, Undersecretary HoOdam had retained a semblance of self-control.
"You're staring, Api. And we have business to do."
Indeed, having taken their seats, the three Pitar were observing their human counterparts in expectant silence. One had already begun sorting through the salted nuts on the table in front of him.
Unable to meet the ameythstine eyes of the alien seated across from him, a disconcerted Saluafata removed his own reader from its case and scrolled down the list of items that had been placed on the agenda. The cool, detached print helped him to regain his personal and professional equilibrium. But it was not easy. Every time he looked up, the purple eyes of his counterpart were there, gazing across the conference table in his direction. They made him want to think of anything except business. It did not help when she spoke first.
> "The Dominion of the Twin Worlds extends its greetings to the people of Earth on this congenial day. We look forward to listening to whatever you have to say."
Diplomats should not have voices like that, the minister felt. It conferred an unfair advantage on the speaker that had nothing whatsoever to do with the issues under discussion. It made him think of somnolent days on deserted beaches, of hammocks caressed by emollient breezes, and cold, tangy fruit drinks placed close at hand. It made him think of...
"We receive the representatives of the Dominion," he heard himself responding, "in friendship and with high hopes for a mutually agreeable and successful culmination of our discussions. I presume that you have all had an opportunity to examine the formal proposal that was conveyed to your equivalent agency or department?"
To Saluafata's disappointment, it was the male seated across from Ymir who next spoke. As for himself, he wanted only to sit and listen to the female speak, to have her words nuzzle his ears like the lingering warmth of a perfect sunset on the eyes. Not that there was anything wrong with the male's voice, as the first cracks in HoOdam's armor of diplomatic distance showed.
"The matter has been studied," the irresponsibly handsome male responded. "You wish our permission to begin settling your people on the world you have chosen to call Argus Five, also Treetrunk."
Saluafata nodded. Flanking him, Ymir and HoOdam struggled to present a businesslike demeanor. That did not keep them from stealing surreptitious glances at the radiant comeliness of the three Pitar. If the visitors noticed this unprofessional attention or took exception to it they gave no sign. Presumably, the minister thought, they were used to it by now.
"That is correct." The special chair provided enough room for him to shift importantly on the reinforced seat. "Naturally, we understand that you may have hesitations. Let me assure you that my government is prepared to compensate or negotiate further on any particular objectionable aspects of this proposal, no matter how numerous. We are willing to work with you on this for as long as may be necessary to en- sure that both sides are completely comfortable with the ultimate resolution of the matter. We can offer you..."