by Lyn Gala
Liam still wasn’t sure if Ito was hoping to trade insults, but he had to admit that would appeal to Ondry. A unique gift that represented the shared values of humans and Rownt would please the Grandmothers. “The Rownt would be interested,” Liam said, using the blandest terms possible.
“I thought so. But I can’t promise you anything. Charles Tsang sees himself as a guardian of the artifacts he’s purchased, and no one can determine any pattern in who he chooses to sell to. He’s a difficult man to buy from.”
Liam kept his gaze on the street as they passed through a business section of town. Several children were playing in a park fountain, and people rode the mechanical sidewalks that lined the edges of the road. Liam wondered what one of them would say if he stopped and asked what sort of life they had. He wondered where his younger siblings fitted in this world.
After a long silence, Colonel Ito asked, “How did you meet the Imshee?”
Liam pulled himself away from his sad thoughts and concentrated on the trade. Ito had offered information, both on the merchant and on the trade goods. Liam would not dishonor Ondry by failing to provide the information he had promised in return. “The Rownt trade with them regularly. After we left Earth, we went to meet an Imshee ship.”
“And what are they like?”
A sharp bark of laughter slipped out before Liam could control it. It was such a human sound, one he had stopped making on the ship. However, in this case, it fit. “Disturbing,” he said as he remembered his time on the ship. “Physically, I mean,” Liam added. He still found Anla psychology far more upsetting, but Imshee were the ugliest of all the aliens.
Ito frowned. “In what way?”
“Imagine a pony-sized insect with ratty, mangy hair.”
Ito shivered. “That is disturbing.”
“They no doubt find each other attractive, but they are unimaginably ugly when judged by a human aesthetic. They have a lot of technology. The Rownt are cautious around them because an Imshee ship once destroyed a Rownt ship with all the children and families on it.” Liam meant that as a warning. Ito’s face lost all expression, so Liam assumed he understood the significance of that fact. Earth tech couldn’t touch Rownt and Rownt tech was equally useless against Imshee.
It took Ito a long time to respond. When he did, he spoke slowly, carefully, and softly. “From what I have read of the Rownt that would cause significant distress.”
“It did.” Liam didn’t elaborate. He watched the city pass as the silence continued. Humans were quicker to fill the world with words, or perhaps Liam’s memory of human interactions cast them in the worst light. That was a possibility.
“And yet they continue to trade?” Ito eventually asked.
Liam smiled at him. “That is related to their inability to grasp the logic of war. The suffering of a great loss does not justify continued loss or retaliation.”
“That makes them sound like saints.” Ito didn’t hide his incredulity.
“Until you realize they will also cheat you out of your last pair of socks and brag about leaving you in poverty.”
“So, not saint like.” Ito smiled. “So what are the Imshee like psychologically?”
Liam wished he could share some great piece of insight, but he and Zach had no firm conclusions. “They don’t use singular pronouns and they seem very concerned about which individuals belong to which group.”
“That’s an important insight. Do you have any others?” Ito took out a pad and recorded the information with a few quick taps.
Liam waited until Ito had finished before he added the one piece of information Command needed. “They are scared of humans.” In Liam’s experience, fear didn’t lead to good decisions.
Ito looked up from his pad. “What?”
“They see our history of persistence hunting as evidence that we’re dangerous. They appear to believe that if our ancestors could take down large prey through sheer determination, then we are dangerous to them no matter how much superior technology they possess,” Liam explained. Ito typed madly on his pad. “I’m not sure if they believe the Rownt are brave or stupid for trading with us. If Imshee do come to this part of space, you may want to tread carefully.”
Ito nodded slowly. “That’s important to know.” The man projected a calm determination even as he tapped away. “Is there any chance the Rownt will allow Captain Mora to brief his superiors?”
“No,” Liam said. Ito’s head came up and he frowned at Liam. Liam explained, “The Rownt believe that transitions are difficult for palteia and that old loyalties will continue to exert influence for some time. The Grandmothers want to protect Zach from feeling any conflict over whose interests he should serve.”
He put his pad down on the seat next to him. “That might cause some concern in Command. The assumption was that we could contact him.”
“No one could contact me for months. For a time, Ondry was irrational in his anger toward everyone on the human base.”
“And it has been months,” Ito said.
Liam sighed. “But Zach has stronger ties to Earth and Command. The Grandmothers recognize that.” Zach had wanted to visit family. Liam had left his family, and he didn’t want to drag the past and his own bad choices into their lives. Luke would be an adult by now. Jae would be a year or two shy. He had no idea how old the two brothers would be. Liam was the first to admit that once he started hanging out with Mort, he hadn’t paid attention to the toddlers. He hadn’t liked his mother’s third husband, a man who had married her while on leave from the war. He’d used that as excuse to ignore his children. Liam still thought of them as toddlers sucking on their fists. Liam couldn’t offer them anything other than part of his salary, and he had already set them up to get money from him. He doubted they wanted any other part of him.
Ito put his hand on his pad, but he didn’t type anything in. Instead, he stared out the front window past the silent driver. They had crossed several pedestrian bridges before Liam said, “I’m impressed. You haven’t asked what happened to me.”
Ito appeared surprised. “You mean your height? That question seemed rather personal.”
“It’s related to the Imshee. They accidentally put me in danger, and tinkering with my genetics so I would be a better physical match for Ondry was their form of an apology.”
Ito’s fingers tightened around the pad. “It must have been a serious error.”
Liam shrugged. “I didn’t think so. They made a simple mistake with environmentals. Zach and I passed out and the lack of oxygen could have been dangerous over time, but we both recovered within hours. Imshee use far less oxygen, so it was reasonable that they only increased oxygen levels to the minimum standards required for Rownt. They intended no harm. However, Rownt are not logical when children or palteia get hurt. I’m certainly not complaining about the gift.”
“And does this gift come with disadvantages?”
“On Rownt ships, no. On Earth, I’m finding the transportation rather small.” Liam rested his hand on the back of the seat in front of him. His knees were pressed up against it.
“I can see where that would be an issue.” Ito sounded amused. He shook his head, and it took Liam a second to recognize the gesture.
“I’ve surprised you.”
Ito shifted in his seat to study Liam. “I had expected this trade to be more confrontational.”
“You offered quality goods.”
“Did I?”
Liam figured Command would have to redo their Rownt trading matrix after Ito turned in his report. “How difficult is this Mr. Tsang?”
“Exceptionally.” Ito enunciated each syllable. “Unfortunately for most of the art world, he is also brilliant at finding antiquities and artists trust him to protect their legacies so he manages several portfolios. He’s the bane of more than one museum.”
Humans would never understand how much Rownt would respect an individual like that. “Then perhaps I have offered too little,” Liam said. “Rownt respect indivi
duals who demand much of their clients. Mr. Tsang sounds imminently reasonable from a Rownt perspective, and an introduction to such an honored trader is valuable.” Ito frowned, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask for anything. The silence gathered between them, and it felt a lot like trust—as if Ito was trusting Liam to choose trade goods that he would want. This was one human Liam didn’t want to cheat out of his meat. “There is a word the Rownt use—blestata.”
“Is this an important word?”
“It is. It translates to something between insane and untrustworthy.”
Ito drew in a breath. “A word to avoid then.” He picked up his pad and tapped it.
Liam turned his attention back to the pedestrians riding the walks under the shade of the tall buildings. “Do you know the worst thing Colonel Thackeray did on Prarownt?”
“I would say the opinion is equally divided between disrespecting you publically and trying to push past a fourteen-foot tall, eight hundred pound Grandmother.” Dry humor colored Ito’s tone. “Both are fairly stupid.”
Liam couldn’t argue. He had no idea why Thackeray had thought he had the strength to move a Grandmother, much less the eldest Grandmother of Janatjanjay. Liam was a little embarrassed that he had been so afraid of that idiot. “Those are minor indiscretions compared to his suggestion that the Rownt reopen the discussion of pharmaceuticals.”
“I understand why that would be foolish,” Ito said slowly, but from his tone it was clear he didn’t get it. “Rownt anatomy is different and they have never been known to change their minds, but from my point of view, I fail to see how that is worse than publically attacking you or a Grandmother.”
“It suggests humans might be blestata.”
Ito was silent for a time, quietly entering info into his pad. When he saw Liam looking at him, he asked, “And what evidence would one use to make that determination?”
It was a good question—a wise one.
“If changing circumstances cause an entity to demand renegotiation, that is blestata. It is a term the Rownt created to describe the Anla.”
Ito drew himself up. “And Thackeray’s ridiculous request implied that a change of commanders would lead to a reopening of closed negotiations? I can see where that would be a problem.”
Liam hoped Ito was as insightful as he appeared to be. And he hoped his commanders would listen to him. He had a high enough rank that someone should listen. But for a Grandmother to give a trading partner advice on how to act or what to offer in trade—that would be an insult no Rownt would ever dare offer. If humans needed help to manage this partnership, Liam had to make sure humans got a few hints through the back door. “As Rownt move into human space to trade, I would hate for them to discover rules such as bankruptcy make trade with the human species an exercise in insanity.”
“That is a word I will definitely share with Command, then. Certainly, trading rules and regulations can be devised to avoid it. And what would you like in return for such valuable trade goods?”
Liam smiled. For the first time in a long time, he found he didn’t want anything in return. “I have family here. Friends. I would not want to see humans and Rownt at odds.”
Ito stared at him. Liam stared back.
After a time, Ito said, “You are surprising, Tuk-Liam.” He punctuated that with a subtle bow.
“So much so I surprise myself at times,” Liam agreed. No doubt a ka-ranked trader would call him a fool for giving away a piece of information that Command would find so valuable, but he had to believe that Ondry and the Grandmothers would approve. And even if they did not, they would understand. Liam watched the passing city and smiled. Then he hit his knee on the back of the seat in front of him and cursed the Rownt gods of travel. Damn that hurt.
Ito laughed. “Cursing in every language sounds the same.”
“It does.” Liam leaned back against the seat and rubbed his knee.
Kensho Part Three
Now that Haru had made a mental connection between Tuk-Liam and Ryota Ito, he could not stop seeing similarities. True, his own father had been a slight man, as many from the island were. Even before joining the Rownt, Sergeant Munson had been a far sturdier individual than Ryota. Now that the Rownt had somehow changed him, he was built like a professional athlete. As they crossed the street from the parking lot to the antique store, everyone turned to stare.
It was not often that a seven-foot tall, broad-shouldered man strolled through the shopping district with the confidence Munson showed. A dozen individuals had gifted Munson with looks that could only have been called salacious. One word, and any of them would’ve invited him into a bed. Haru’s father had been the same, and like Munson, he had ignored or perhaps not even noticed the reactions. Haru’s mother, Souma Ito, had been endlessly amused in her own quiet way. Over tea she would comment on the foolishness of women who would set their sights on a man who had no interest in them.
Haru wondered if Munson was asexual or if the rumors of his relationship with Tuk-Ondry were true. Command had forbidden the rumors, but that had only driven them underground where the fires burned hotter and spread faster. Besides, if Captain Mora changed loyalties, he had already told Munson how many people whispered about the illicit sexual possibilities. Tails, tentacles, and oversized genitalia were popular in certain types of erotica. Haru could not feign innocence himself when it came to the entertainment value of such appendages.
“This is it.” Haru stopped outside the store. He pressed his hand to the scanner to open the door. Politeness would have dictated that he allow Munson to request entry, but Tsang was famous for not opening the door if an unfamiliar person sought it. Haru could only hope that this introduction didn’t backfire. His superiors would not be amused if Munson took offense to something Tsang said. And Tsang did enjoy offending.
After a wait that was too long to be polite, the front door clicked and the light flashed. However, Tsang did not appear. Haru opened the door and gestured for Munson to go ahead of him. Over the years, Haru had visited the shop many times. His wife loved the botanical prints that Tsang offered. Other officers complained that their wives wanted off-world trips, even during this time of war when transportation was difficult and expensive, so Haru had very little reason to complain when he shared his wife’s love for antiques.
Watching Munson, however, was a new experience. He walked around the tables filled with small, colorful vases with an exaggerated caution that was almost comical. By the time he reached the end of the first aisle, Munson had wrapped his arms around his waist, but his head swiveled around as he took in the art that filled every corner. Antique wood screens covered one wall with hundred-year-old scrolls displayed on another and modern art filling a third. The center was a riot of pots and vases and statues, some five hundred years old and some new.
Haru gestured toward an arch that led to a second room in the back. “The Aizen Myo-o is back there,” he said.
Munson moved carefully, detouring around the male Fu dog that guarded the back room. The matching female stood on the other side of the arch, her stone gaze watching them. The back of this inner room had a clear security wall protecting a pair of thousand-year-old vases, a folding screen from the 17th century depicting a dragon and a tiger, an Edo Period Samurai armor set with a helmet, and the last painting by Hēidòng, an artist so secretive that no one knew his or her real identity. And to the left was Aizen Myo-o.
He wore a fierce expression that had always fascinated Haru. Munson moved closer, his expression rapt as he studied the statue. Aizen Myo-o wore a lion head as his crown and carried a bell, a lotus, a vajra, and his always-present bow and arrows. The artist had carved each in exquisite detail. The gilded wood statue stood sixteen or eighteen inches high, but it was set on a golden lotus bowl with a sun disk behind it. Haru would trade every piece he owned for the Aizen, but Tsang had refused to give him a price.
As if summoned by the thought, Tsang appeared at the office door. He crossed his arms and got
an unpleasant expression when he saw Haru looking at the Aizen. No doubt he would enjoy verbally eviscerating Haru in front of an audience. After all, he had made it clear that if Haru asked after the art one more time, Tsang would ban him from the shop.
Before Tsang could say anything, Munson spoke. “Mr. Tsang. I should start with an insult, but I am too impressed by the quality of this work.” Munson continued to look at Aizen for a few seconds, but then he shifted his attention to Tsang.
Munson must have had magical powers because Tsang shut his mouth and stared at him for an uncomfortable length of time. And instead of filling the air with awkward or useless words, Munson stared back. Haru liked Munson more with every passing second.
Tsang cleared his throat and walked into the room, closing his office door behind him. “An insult? Why would you start with an insult?”
Munson’s smile was slow and dangerous and utterly charming. “Because I assume you are confident enough in your skills that you do not require or appreciate compliments from someone you just met.”
“That is a sensible attitude,” Tsang said in a grudging tone. He turned to Haru and offered a polite nod. “Colonel. What can I help you with today?”
Haru was, for once, enjoying himself. “I was hoping to look at the Aizen Mayo-o piece again.” He smiled.
Tsang’s expression turned sour. “I would rather you look at something you’re likely to buy.”
“I would buy that in an instant if you named a price.”
“More than you can afford,” Tsang shot back. The worst part was that he was right. The Aizen was the sort of quality that museums bought, and Haru was only a colonel. He wondered if it had been made for a temple or the private shrine of a wealthy family, not that it mattered. Tsang lost interest in Haru and turned his attention back to Munson who made no secret of his admiration for the statue.
