Cullen tried to explain without dismissing. “You have to understand, Pilwondepat, that in the absence of direct evidence of wrongdoing, human authorities have a tendency to move with caution. Nothing’s likely to happen right away.”
“It will come.” Pilwondepat was confident now. “The more unfortunate coincidences involving the AAnn that occur, the more likely your people will be to see that they are not coincidences at all. There will be an acceleration of awareness.”
“Nine days.” Cullen came around from behind the desk to place a reassuring hand on the thranx’s b-thorax. “Think you can stand working in Riimadu’s company that long?”
“As long as should prove necessary.” The thranx swiveled his head almost 180 degrees. “It’s easier for me to watch my back than it is for you to guard yours.”
At that point Therese Holoness burst into the chamber, nearly beating the doorway’s announcing buzz. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide open and alert. She glanced uncertainly at the thranx before settling her gaze on Cullen.
“Come quick, Mr. Karasi!”
Cullen’s eyes flicked in Pilwondepat’s direction before returning to the young woman. “What is it, Therese? What’s wrong?”
She blinked in confusion. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, sir. Please, come with me. You’re not going to believe what we’ve found.”
10
The humidity at Chitteranx Port hit Baron Preed NNXV like a grit-heavy sandstorm. Gasping, he hastened to activate the dehumidifier strapped to his snout. Immediately, air from which virtually every trace of moisture had been removed flowed down his nasal passages and into his lungs. Relieved, he stepped out into the otherwise amenable climate that filled the terminal. What he really needed, he reflected, was the visual equivalent of a dehumidifier for his eyes. Or more properly, a debugger.
The place was full of thranx. The insectoids were everywhere: operating greeting stations, food and drink facilities, rushing to and fro in hideous numbers. That was not surprising, since Chitteranx was a major port of arrival and embarkation on this continent, and Hivehom was their homeworld. That did not make the place any easier to tolerate. Like all his kind, Preed loathed the multilimbed, hard-shelled creatures. What he wanted to do was wade into the seething mass and start pulling off arms and legs and heads. Aside from the fact that he was more than slightly outnumbered and such action would result in his own expeditious demise, it would reflect badly on his mission.
Diplomats, he reminded himself, were to be discouraged from dismembering their hosts.
It was not the thranx he had come to see, however. Had that been the case, he would have landed at Daret and checked in with the official Imperial Embassy there. His mission was rather more circumspect. The thranx had been reluctant to allow it. But since no state of active hostilities existed between the Great Hive and the Empire, they were unable to find a good reason to refuse the official request. It was to be an informal visit, the AAnn officials in charge of making the arrangements had insisted. Nothing conclusive was on order. As a major power friendly to both sides, the AAnn simply wished to see how the humans who had located on Hivehom were doing. The thranx didn’t like it, but could not find a legitimate way to refuse without giving unnecessary offense.
Preed had been chosen because of his mastery of the humans’ language and a tolerance for difficult conditions. He was flattered by the endorsement and could not in any event have gracefully refused. So here he was, surrounded by bugs, on his way to see spongy, soft-skinned mammals. The familiar comforts of Blassussar seemed a very long way off indeed.
The heavy protective clothing he would need to tolerate the visit to the human outpost was packed securely in the satchel he carried slung over his right shoulder. Striding forward, the dehumidifier across his snout distorting his otherwise courtly profile, he searched in vain for the tube that would take him to the shuttle that would convey him to the Mediterranea Plateau, where the humans had their settlement. His flight connection was deliberately scheduled tight, so that he would not have to spend any more time in lowland Chitteranx than was absolutely necessary. A check of his chronometer showed that he had no time to linger. Growling deep in his throat, he realized that he was going to have to ask directions.
Steeling himself, he used the general terminal guide to locate an information kiosk. At least he would be spared direct contact with one of the bugs. The kiosk was designed to be utilized by offworlders. As such, its instrumentation was intuitive, and though it could not communicate in the Imperial Tongue, he soon had his directions. Striding off in the indicated direction, he had to struggle not to kick crowding thranx aside. Bipedal and as tall as the average human, he towered over the milling natives. With their compound eyes, you could not even tell if they were looking in your direction, but he knew that they were staring. The presence of an AAnn on Hivehom, outside the diplomatic mission located in the capital, was highly unusual. He fancied he could smell hatred and fear emanating from them. A good feeling, it made him smile inside.
The aircraft that would carry him to the high plateau was specially retrofitted to accommodate humans as well as thranx but was virtually empty. The few insectoids aboard crowded as far forward as they could, maintaining as much space as was practical between themselves and the unusual passenger. This suited Preed well. As for his own perch, the AAnn found that while his legs bent in places different from those of humans, he could still fit his backside into one of the flight chairs that had been designed for them. The only difficulty lay with his tail. While flexible, it still had to go somewhere. As there was no proper slot in the rear of the seat, he was reduced to thrusting it off to one side and over the rim of the chair for the duration of the flight. The resulting contortion was uncomfortable, but not impossible. At least, he reflected, he was not reduced to being strapped down like a piece of cargo.
The flight on the superswift craft carried him high above the clouds that swathed the jungles, rain forest, plantations, and conurbations below. Once they passed over the edge of the Hysingrausen Wall, the weather cleared above the plateau. It would be refreshingly drier in the human settlement, he knew, but also much colder. He would be compelled to swap the uncomfortable dehumidifier on his snout for a bulky set of cold-wear gear. Such were the travails a multispecies ambassador was expected to endure.
There were compensations. Preed’s ability to deal with an assortment of sentients, plus his unusual linguistic gifts, had elevated him to rarified status. Actually, his rank should have guaranteed him a home posting in a comfortable villa, with perhaps a view of the Sandronds on Blassussar’s southernmost continent. But his skills made him too valuable to keep at home. So he had become a rover in the service of the Empire. The lifestyle suited his temperament if not his liver.
From the air Azerick was unimpressive. He had not expected much. The human outpost was still of comparatively recent vintage, both physically and politically. It could not be allowed to grow rapidly for fear of unsettling the locals. This was too bad. There was nothing Preed, or any other AAnn, enjoyed more than seeing the multilimbed thranx unsettled.
Hence his visit.
His principal purpose was not to unnerve the thranx. That was only a side benefit. He was here to talk with the resident humans, to ascertain a number of possibilities, to formulate appraisals, and with luck to make more than mischief. His hopes were high. Despite all the lies the thranx had told humans about the AAnn, despite their unprecedented and unrepeated cooperation during the course of the Pitarian War, relations between the two powerful entities were still in a state of uneasy flux. Relations could evolve, or devolve, on the basis of very small developments. It was these that Preed was on Hivehom to influence. His energetic, mischief-making colleagues, he knew, were busy elsewhere.
The dryness of the air that assailed his nostrils when he emerged from the aircraft into the local terminal was a huge relief after trying to breathe the damp mud that passed for atmosphere in Chitteranx. He immediately removed the
clumsy dehumidifier and stored it in his baggage. Finding a personal hygiene chamber, he attended to necessary ablutions while donning the lightweight but still unwieldy special garb that would keep the air next to his scales fifteen degrees warmer than the ambient temperature outside. Only his head, tail, and hands remained exposed to the chill air. When he emerged from the chamber, he felt refreshed and ready to begin work.
A voice in halting Imperial hailed him as soon as he stepped outside. “Envoy Preed! Over here, sir.”
Espying the only human who was both staring and gesticulating in his direction, Preed approached the individual and replied in near-perfect Terranglo. The language was easier on his larynx than either High or Low Thranx. Something else, he mused, his people and these mammals had in common. Extending a hand, he noted the human’s obvious surprise as the clawed fingers enveloped the mammal’s soft skin and shook gently.
“You ssee?” the envoy informed his greeter. “No brushing of antennae. Your kind have one digit too many, and your clawss are exceedingly inadequate, but otherwisse there iss virtually no difference.”
Pleased by the flattering comparison, the human stepped back. “I’ll be your principal contact during your visit to Azerick, Envoy Preed. Members of our guest support staff will look after your daily needs. Whenever you are ready for formal talks, just let me know. I can say that I personally have been looking forward to them for some time.”
“A chance to sspeak with ssomething bessidess a bug?” Preed ventured.
Gratifyingly, the human essayed a half smile. “I didn’t say that.”
An excellent beginning, Preed decided. This human, an important member of the local diplomatic staff, was already predisposed toward the AAnn and against his hosts. With more such benign developments, much might be accomplished in the coming days.
“May I carry your baggage, Envoy?” The human extended a helpful hand. To Preed, it looked as if the straps on his case would cut right through the soft, unprotected flesh. “By the way, my name is Jorge Sertoa.”
“Yess. I wass informed it would be you who would be meeting me. No thank you, truly, Jorge. I prefer to carry my own gear. The exercisse iss a good thing for me.”
Outside the little terminal, the all-pervasive green of the plateau forest made him wince slightly. He longed for familiar earth tones: for yellows and reds, burnished orange and fiery vermilion. Such hues were not to be found anywhere on Hivehom, and certainly not here in the place of the humans’ choosing. Gasping as the chill air entered his lungs, he bundled his weather suit tighter around his neck, clasped his hands together, and paced the escorting human to the impressive little high-speed transport. Within moments, they were racing northward through the towering woods.
“This transport cabin is equipped with an individual climate control.” The human was at pains to be accommodating. “Would you like me to turn up the heat?”
Diplomacy be strangled, Preed decided. “I would like that very much, truly. My thankingss, Jorge.”
Within minutes the temperature inside the cabin had risen to nearly thirty-three degrees. Though the human was starting to look uncomfortable, he did not ask to reduce the temperature, and Preed gladly took advantage of the other’s obliging nature.
They bantered inconsequentialities all the way to the outpost. There, Preed was assigned quarters that had been hastily adapted for his arrival. There were chairs with slots in the back for his tail. The high bed had been replaced with a basin filled with sand, complete with a crude, hastily adapted, but functionally adequate warmer. As with the cabin aboard the high-speed transport, the room’s temperature could be individually regulated to suit its occupant. Preed immediately pushed it to maximum without bothering to try to translate the digits on the readout and without worrying about the possible consequences to the room’s contents.
He spent the rest of the day relaxing as best he could amid the alien surroundings and renewing his acquaintance with his recordings of human facial expressions, which AAnn xenopsychs had discovered early on in the course of formal exchanges were a vital key in understanding the mammals. Oftentimes they would say one thing while their countenances would convey something entirely different. The fact that the thranx were not yet very good at this business of interpreting facial muscle positioning only inspired Preed’s people to try to master it. No one could claim that ability yet, but among those assigned to diplomatic posts especially, great progress had been made.
For example, his host, the human male Sertoa, had been politely neutral in his greeting and conversation. But the subcutaneous flexing of his facial muscles had suggested a warmer predisposition toward his AAnn guest. As time passed, if his interpretation was further confirmed, Preed could play on that. Much good could be done here. He reminded himself of that repeatedly, by way of compensating himself for having to endure the frigid conditions atop the plateau. At least the local humidity, while higher than any AAnn would choose, was tolerable, as opposed to the simmering soup of an atmosphere that prevailed in the bug-infested lowlands below.
“We have sso much more in common,” he hissed to his host the following day, as Sertoa toured the visiting diplomat through the facility. “Physsically, we are infinitely more alike than either of our resspective sspeciess are to the bugss.” By way of demonstration, he reached out and put a four-fingered hand, polished claws and all, on the human’s shoulder. The flesh was soft beneath the thin garment, but Preed had expected and prepared for that.
“You ssee? We are on average nearly the ssame height, though your kind runss to more extremess than mine. We are both bipedal, though you lack the counterbalance of a tail. Internally, we are both bissymmetrical. Your earss are rather prominently external, but our eyess are identically possitioned, though your pupilss are round and ourss vertical. Your facess are pusshed in—excusse my terminology, are flat—but when you look me in the eye and I look back, I see a being that iss not sso very different from mysself.” He gestured southward, toward the teeming lowlands. “When I look at a thranx, I ssee ssomething that iss truly alien.”
“The thranx are as intelligent as you or I, and as deserving of respect,” the human responded.
“Truly.” Had he overstepped his bounds? Preed wondered furiously. After all, the humans were on this planet by the grace of their insectoid hosts. Had he misread this mammal so badly? “I wass ssimply pointing out ssome interessting and unavoidable ssimilarities. I did not mean any dissresspect to thosse who, after all, are hosstss here to uss both.” Disrespect, he mused silently, could come later.
“I understand.” The human directed his guest down a footpath paved with round stepping-stones. Preed’s sandals clicked softly on the artificial rock, his feet swathed in protective cold-resistant gear. Meanwhile, the human strolled about virtually naked in the chill air of afternoon.
“We musst all get along in thiss tiny corner of a vasst galaxy. You know that the emperor hass petitioned your government for the ssame ssettlement and ssharing rightss that are pressently enjoyed by thesse thranx?”
Sertoa’s face revealed his surprise. “No, I didn’t know that. In what way?”
The AAnn diplomat explained. “As the thranx have esstablished ssmall hivess in your Amazon and Congo Bassinss, and are conssidering another in your Ssepik River region, my government hass requessted that we be allowed to consstruct a tesst community in either the center of your Ssahara Desert or an alternate region called the Ssonoran.”
“That’s exciting news.” Sertoa led the way into one of the complex’s sealed structures. The air inside was slightly warmer than without, for which Preed was inordinately grateful. “I hope it comes to pass.”
“You do?” Preed kept his tone subdued.
“Why, of course. I’ve always admired the accomplishments of the AAnn. At least, what we know of them. No one looks forward to closer relations between our two peoples more than I.”
Breakthrough. Though his scale-covered snout and face were far less flexible than tho
se of any human, they were still capable of movement. Lest the humans be studying the expressions of the AAnn as intensely as his kind were scrutinizing theirs, Preed struggled to hide the quiet exultation he felt at the human’s response. This diplomat was not only friendly toward his kind: If his words could be believed, he was positively enthusiastic.
There were a number of ways of checking.
“If you are interessted, I might perhapss be able to arrange a reciprocal vissit to the Imperial capital at Blassussar, or at leasst to one of the principal Imperial worldss.”
Sertoa’s expression brightened. “That would be wonderful! I’d enjoy that very much.”
Confirmation of a quickly formed opinion, however casual, was always welcome. Here, on the thranx homeworld, was a sympathetic if not openly biased human diplomat. This was in itself enough to justify the discomfort of his trip, and he had only just arrived.
“I have a surprise for you.” A grin, an expression that Preed recalled indicated a combination of personal satisfaction and amusement, dominated the human’s face. “I think you’ll like it.”
They entered a substantial edifice where Preed was startled to encounter humans in various states of undress. If anything their naked bodies were, while of scientific interest, more disconcerting than their clothed forms. Leading the way deeper into the complex, Sertoa guided his guest to a windowless chamber. The pair of humans there hurried their dressing when they discerned the nature of the alien visitor.
“If you would kindly disrobe, sir. I know that your people do not suffer from any nudity phobias.” As he ventured the suggestion, Sertoa had already begun the process of removing his own clothing.
“That iss true, but I am not ssure thiss iss in accordance with proper diplomatic procedure, my friend.” The AAnn eyed the human uncertainly.
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