“Here, Your Highness,” one of the Marines said. “You’ll need this.”
Henry sighed – everyone called him by his title or honorific now – and took the proffered umbrella, unfurling it above his head. He suddenly felt hotter as the rain started splashing off the fabric instead of his uniform, but fought the reaction down. Moments later, he started as a handful of aliens emerged from the mist and stopped at the edge of the landing pad. They seemed in no particular hurry.
“Out you come,” he called into the shuttle. “They’re waiting for us.”
The Ambassadors staggered out of the shuttle, followed by their aides. Some of them looked so thoroughly traumatized by the flight that their legs were still wobbly, despite having had a few moments to recover and change their clothes. The aliens made no comment, merely waited until the humans had joined them, then motioned for the humans to follow their path through the rain. Henry hesitated, then took the lead. He was the only person who had spent time on an alien world before.
It grew easier to see as the rainfall slowly abated, but not to walk. Off the landing pad, they found themselves squelching through muddy paths that seemed to be on the verge of turning into swamps. Henry managed to keep his footing, but others were not so lucky. They slipped and stumbled as they slowly made their way down the path towards the ocean. And, piece by piece, the alien city came into view.
Henry sucked in his breath, unwillingly impressed. The city seemed to be set within the water, almost like a fairytale castle. And yet, it was covered with aliens, just like the city he’d seen before. They lay on the sloped rooftops like seals on ice floes, watching the humans through large unblinking eyes. Henry forced himself to walk onwards, despite their silent observation. Behind him, the Ambassadors fell silent as they followed their escort into a large building. Inside, it was surprisingly cool. Henry found himself shivering at once.
“They’ve prepared it for us,” Ambassador Melbourne noted. “They’re trying to be welcoming.”
He was right, Henry realised, although by any normal human standard the alien negotiation chamber was ridiculous. The humans had been assigned chairs that looked to have been designed for children, while the aliens themselves lounged in a swimming pool that would keep their skins hydrated. Maybe they’d cooled the air to make their guests feel more at home, he considered, although it was impossible to tell for sure. One smaller pool, crammed with strange fish, might have been intended as a buffet.
They told us to bring our own food, he thought, recalling the hampers that had been packed on the shuttle. It might have been dangerous for us to eat their food.
There was a splash as one of the escorts entered the swimming pool and vanished beneath the water. Henry looked into the murky depths and realised that the swimming pool was linked to the ocean – and the thousands of aliens gathering outside. Some of them had different coloured skin, he saw, as they pressed against the glass and peered into the negotiation chamber. Was that a reflection of their faction, he asked himself, or merely nothing more than a slight biological difference? There was no way to know.
He added it to the list of questions to ask when the aliens were more inclined to talk about their biology, then stepped backwards as a handful of aliens entered the pool. Several rose to the surface and eyed the humans with their massive eyes, others remained below the waters, as if they didn't want to be seen. Henry wondered if they were other negotiators or if they were something different. Perhaps the surfaced aliens each represented a different faction and the ones lurking below the waves were their aides or supporters. But there were more alien representatives than human ambassadors.
They must have mistaken the aides for additional ambassadors, he thought, slowly. Or perhaps they just don’t care about who has the most aides and other assistants. We would, because we often mistake perception for reality. But the aliens might have different ideas of how to proceed. They might not give a damn if we want to send a hundred aides and they want to send none ...
The lead alien waved one slimy hand. “We greet you,” it said. As always, the voice was produced by a voder and seemed completely atonal. “You are welcome to our” – there was a gap, as if the translator couldn't find a suitable word – “and we will talk to you.”
“We thank you,” Ambassador Melbourne said. He was keeping it as simple as possible, hoping to avoid translation problems. “We will talk to you.”
There was a long pause. Henry realised, slowly, that the aliens were discussing how to proceed amongst themselves, even though it was rude. But he’d already reasoned out that human concepts of polite or rude behaviour meant nothing to the aliens. They probably wouldn't notice if one of the diplomats picked his nose or scratched his ass at the negotiation table.
“You settled a world we had already settled,” the alien said. There was no emotion in its voice, even though a human would be screaming accusations. “And one of your people killed one of our people.”
“That is correct,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “However, we were unaware of your presence, let alone your claim on Heinlein.”
And you did nothing to mark your presence, Henry thought. The Heinlein settlers would never have landed if there had been anything to suggest the presence of intelligent life forms on the planet below. Why didn't you put a satellite in orbit to tell us you were there?
He shook his head. The aliens had been as surprised to encounter humanity as humans had been to encounter them. There probably hadn't seemed any reason to put a satellite in orbit or place a permanent guardship in the system. They’d just assumed the colony could grow normally and settle the surface area when they had finally built up a large population. Given how they bred, it was quite likely the alien population would have expanded faster than any comparable human population.
And there’s another problem, he thought. Will they simply out-breed us in future?
“Our people did not realise that you were an intelligent race,” Ambassador Melbourne said, drawing Henry’s attention back to his words. “The death of one of your people was a tragic accident. Your response was equally tragic.”
“That is correct,” the alien said.
Henry frowned. Several of the underwater aliens didn't seem inclined to agree. One of them pulled the designated speaker under the water, where he was promptly surrounded by several other aliens who seemed to be making a point. The discussion – if discussion it was – lasted several minutes before the designated speaker returned to the surface. Clearly, Henry decided, whatever the underwater aliens had wanted to say had been too important to risk saying out loud, even when they had good reason to believe their words would be inaudible to human ears.
But we are recording everything, Henry thought. They might have a point.
“We believed your people to be intent on taking our world,” the speaker said. “Your greeting was ... unfriendly.”
“Yes, it was,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “But you managed to surprise two immature youths of our race. The tragedy might well have been inevitable.”
“And you are older and wiser,” the alien stated. Or was it a question? Henry couldn't tell, despite having seen the aliens far longer than any other human save Jill. “We believed your settlement of our space meant inevitable war.”
“We had no knowledge of your presence,” Ambassador Melbourne countered. “The settlers who first encountered you moved far beyond our settled sphere.”
“That is correct,” the alien said. “But there would have been contact eventually.”
He was right, Henry knew. Heinlein might not have had any orbital presence, but it wouldn't have been long before a human ship sighted an alien ship in deep space. It might have gone better that way, he thought. There would have been a chance to use the First Contact package in the spirit of actually opening communication, rather than avoiding a war. And then they could have agreed to share the border worlds.
“Your race settles worlds quickly,” the alien said. “The War Faction believ
ed that war was inevitable. Can you argue otherwise?”
Ambassador Melbourne smiled, although it was unlikely the aliens understood the expression or the emotion behind it. “Does the War Faction speak for all of your people?”
“No,” the alien stated.
“The colonists who made contact with you do not speak for all of us,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “Had we known you were settled on that world, we would have either conceded it to you or come to an agreement about sharing settlement rights. Instead of attempting to talk, your War Faction started a war.”
“Had they attempted to talk,” the alien pointed out, “you would have known to prepare for war.”
He was right, Henry knew. If humanity had known there was a potential alien threat, the last two years would have been spent building up the various spacefaring navies, developing new weapons and plotting tactics, rather than minor scrabbling between human powers.
“But that is the crux of the issue,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “You never gave us a chance to discuss peace.”
Which makes perfect sense for the War Faction, Henry thought. If you believe war to be inevitable, and you literally cannot admit anything to the contrary, what’s the point in abandoning the advantage of surprise?
“None of us knew about the first encounter,” the Ambassador pressed. “How could we have decided on peace or war?”
He took a breath. “You have factions of your own,” he said. “Why did you assume we didn’t have factions too?”
Henry rather suspected he understood. Humans tended to think in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them.’ And humans were always more sensitive to differences within ‘us’ rather than differences within ‘them.’ ‘Us’ might have dozens of subunits; ‘them’ was always one vast hive mind, utterly united in intent and purpose. The idea that there might be as many differences among ‘them’ as there were among ‘us’ was hard to grasp. And the aliens might have their own blind spots when it came to other forms of life.
“Mistakes were made,” the alien conceded. “We talk now. But War Faction must be convinced to end the war.”
“We propose a return to the pre-war situation,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “If there are worlds along the border that have been settled by both of us, we can agree to share. You can have the oceans, we will have the land. Worlds settled by one race will remain the property of that race.”
Henry wondered, briefly, just who would get the better part of that deal. There were only a couple of worlds with more land surface than oceans. But, at the same time, the aliens needed land to build their technology, just like humans. Their colonies on any shared worlds might not be able to develop past a certain point.
“There will need to be some surface habitation,” the alien stated. “And there will be ...”
He was tugged back under the water for another discussion. This time, several other aliens swam into the pool and joined the argument. Henry watched them swimming around in a complicated dance and wondered, suddenly, if the aliens ever considered swimming an art form. There was far more elegance in their movements below the waters than he’d ever realised. It was almost beautiful.
This time, a different alien rose to the surface. “There are settlements on worlds we took from you,” it said. “Those settlement factions are to remain in place.”
The Russians will love that, Henry thought, grimly. So will the other occupied worlds.
He blinked as the alien was yanked back below the waves before Ambassador Melbourne could formulate an answer. Henry glanced at the ambassadors, saw them muttering amongst themselves, then looked back at the water. This time, the swimming dance seemed almost ominous. It was difficult to tell the aliens apart, but it looked as though several factions were having second thoughts about the settlement rights.
Finally, a third alien – he thought – rose to the surface. “We have yet to agree amongst ourselves,” it said. “But settlements must be protected.”
“We can wait for you to determine what you want,” Ambassador Melbourne offered. “Do you have suitable quarters for us?”
“Yes,” the alien said. It must have sent a silent signal, for several aliens entered the room from the rear. “We will resume discussions in five of your hours.”
Ambassador Melbourne offered no objection. Instead, he followed the aliens out of the building and back into the jungle. A handful of prefabricated buildings sat there, clearly of human design. The words on the side, in Spanish, suggested they’d been taken from Vera Cruz. Inside, the aliens had done their best to set everything up for their human guests, right down to food and water supplies. Henry had to admit they hadn't done a bad job, although it looked faintly odd. They hadn't quite known what they were doing.
“Check the water and food before you use any of it,” he ordered one of the Marines. “And then scan for bugs ... no, scan for bugs first.”
He waited until the Marines pronounced the building clean, then sat down. “Do you think we made progress?”
“It's uncommon to have an opposing negotiator revising his demands as he goes along,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “But in this case it may not be surprising. The aliens clearly don’t think like us.”
Henry nodded. “Just keep focused on the issue at hand,” he advised. The aliens seemed to appreciate simplicity. “And hope the factions that want peace out-mass the factions that want war.”
“And what happens,” the Chinese Ambassador asked, “if the War Faction decides to continue the war on its own?”
“Let us hope the aliens have more sense,” Ambassador Melbourne said, after an uncomfortable moment. If some of the reports from Earth were accurate, several human nations wanted to leave the war – and would have done so, if the aliens had offered them a way out. “And that we manage to convince them that the war will end in mutual disaster.”
Henry sighed – humans rarely showed sense – and then walked into one of the back bedrooms. He’d promised Janelle he’d call her from the surface ... and besides, he had a report to write. He might not have been an accredited diplomat, but he did have considerable experience with the aliens. And besides ... he wanted to do something with his life before he left the family for good.
He smiled, remembering their last night together. It had been great, even though she’d been worried sick about him. And how could he blame her?
Just flying down to the surface was hair-raising, he thought. Several of the Ambassadors had been so unwell they hadn't said a word during the first meeting. Who needs the aliens to kill us? Their planet does a damn fine job of it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ted rose to his feet as Ambassador Melbourne was escorted into his cabin, after – according to the Marines – having a long shower and a change of clothes in his quarters. It was hard to blame him. The people down on the surface had compared the alien world to a tropical rainforest, with worse weather and better company. At least the aliens weren't trying to play games with the human representatives, the ambassadors had noted. They seemed to be playing it fair.
“Ambassador,” he said. “Welcome back.”
“I don’t think they chose such an uncomfortable world on purpose, but it would have been very cunning if they had,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “I haven't had such an unpleasant time since the last meeting in Arabia. At least this place doesn't have flies.”
“That’s one thing,” Ted said. The biochemists had claimed the alien world was more or less habitable for humans, but he doubted many would want to settle there permanently. Both the weather and geology were completely screwed up by human standards. “And how are the talks?”
“I swear the aliens keep changing their demands to suit themselves,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “They don’t even let us answer before they alter them. It’s weird.”
He shrugged. “I know diplomats who just demand more and more,” he added, “but the aliens sometimes demand more and sometimes demand less. It makes absolutely no sense.”
“Th
eir factions must keep arguing over just what they want from us,” Ted said. Over the last four days, countless starships had passed through the system. He assumed they were transmitting messages from other alien factions. “What do they want?”
Ambassador Melbourne sighed. “The War Faction seems to need placating,” he said. “The aliens want to keep their gains, including New Russia. In exchange for this, they will agree to peace – and that human settlers will be allowed to manage their own affairs. Or leave, if that’s what they want to do. But the aliens want to keep the worlds themselves.”
“Putting them in position to launch a second war on favourable terms if the peace breaks down,” Ted said, slowly. New Russia was only two jumps from Earth. “And it lets the War Faction claim victory.”
Ark Royal 3: The Trafalgar Gambit Page 28
