"Thank you," she sent the second interpreter to fetch the video crew. "Would it be possible to allow a few observers behind us?"
"That's up to you. We don't intend to try to have a dialog with a mob however. We'll speak with whomever you place in these three seats. Which raises a question. From your title I would guess you have to be in at least the third tier down. Do you have authority to negotiate? Is the Secretary of State here? Or do you have the ability to make binding arrangements?" The crew had a camera up already behind her.
"The Secretary was not able to come, but my superior the Undersecretary has full authority to negotiate an agreement. Ultimately, even the Secretary would have to present the proposed treaty to our Congress for ratification. That is an aspect of our law we have no way to avoid. I'm saving the Undersecretary some effort laying the groundwork. He is most curious about you as individuals and would like to feel he knows the personality he is dealing with. Might we also bring in a few seats for our observers?" she asked.
"Garrett, have Mr. Martin bring in chairs for as many as they wish to entertain. Our time also has value, just like that of the Undersecretary," the First Mother informed Ms. Houke. "If he is so curious as to our personalities, he'd learn much more if he'd planted himself in your chair and addressed us himself. Rather than wear ourselves out chatting with underlings about personalities and chairs and such, we’ll let you let you talk with my son Garrett today. He is Champion of the Clan and has just as much authority as you do, that is, none and you can inquire about our personalities from him and get much more candid answers than you would from us. Likewise he is familiar with how all three of us came to our posts as Mothers and our duties before and now."
"Garrett, answer the lady truthfully, I know you don't have a subtle bone in your body, so don't try to be gracious about us. We are aware we have defects and you may be candid. If they want to string banners and pass out party favors, by all means humor them. When you have reached sufficient agreement and trivia exchanged and want to bring in the Undersecretary to address real issues, let us know and we'll return." The Mothers got up in no particular hurry and started out.
"I hate to report you've already walked out on the negotiations," Ms. Houke said.
"Let's be clear here underling," the First Mother said, pausing on her way out, "you can't play this sort of petty passive aggressive blame game with me. The negotiations have not started, because nobody with authority is present on your side of the table. I'm afraid my dear, that your bosses don't take us seriously. We are accommodating your culture to offer negotiations at all, after war is declared."
"If your boss was interested in getting to know us at a personal level, he would have been in your seat chatting with us. This is just dominance tactics. Try it long enough and we will go home where we have work to do. Take advantage of Garrett here to get a feel for what Derf are like, if you are interested. You'll find no better use for your time today I believe. At least I am honest in telling you he has no authority to negotiate, which is the first thing you should have told us about yourself."
After they left Garrett removed his greaves and gauntlets and laid the ceremonial ax on the table so he could sit. "I might as well be comfortable to talk to you. Ask anything you want."
"Why not," Ms. Houke asked rhetorically. "What does a Champion do?"
Garrett smiled. "I'm the closest thing we have to a lawyer," he said, looking at each lawyer in turn. "If the Mothers from different clans can't agree after extensive efforts, their Champion and I decide a legal case by combat. I'm so new I have not had a formal combat. I'm also the head of the militia and act as a ceremonial figure representing the clan just as your nations have special units, who wear historical uniforms. That was what I was doing while the Mothers were present."
"So you've never actually killed anybody with that fancy ax?" she smirked.
"Well no, I said formal combat. Unfortunately just three days ago I had a gentleman ignore my instructions to stop trying to enter our rooms here. He made an aiming gesture at me," he illustrated with a thrusting hand, "and I split him," he said with another graphic hand gesture. "Turns out he only had a Taser, which was really stupid. If he hadn't hurried me so, I wouldn't have killed him. If I can offer one piece of advice to Humans it would be, don't scare a Derf with an ax in his hand. It's going to end badly if you do."
They all sat looking at the ax silently for a moment.
"I'm sorry if you weren't briefed on that," Garrett allowed. "I'd have thought they'd tell you, if only to avoid having a repeat. It's very important you don't try to force your way past an armed guard," he instructed them. "Isn't it the same on Earth?" he asked them, honestly puzzled.
"It is," she admitted, "but we are used to the idea of firearms and an ax is so different. It's hard to explain why but an edged weapon is just so visceral."
"Isn't it?" Garrett agreed laying his hand on the bronze. "This ax is almost four thousand years old. It has the history of every duel engraved on it. Some of the lines have had to be recut as they grew faint. Also the battle deaths of three champions who carried it into war, including my instructor and his seven duels. That was an unusually active career. Some have carried it a lifetime and never used it in anger."
"Surely you must have other duties than just waiting around for a legal impasse, that may never happen in your lifetime?"
Garrett looked at her quizzically. "There is our militia to maintain. I'm actively the head of ground forces, so I set up training and certification schedules. Even after apprenticing to the Champion, I'm still learning a lot from my officers, but we qualify all males with rifles, very much like your Swiss nation. Quite a few have to know small unit tactics. Everybody has a 20mm assault weapon and body armor. Each squad has certain special weapons carriers and anti-armor and anti-air. I have to present a procurement budget to the Mothers and am involved with maintenance and dispersal of caches and assets. I'm currently training two assistants in the maintenance and deployment of nuclear assets and all the squad leaders in the associated tactics. So I am busy enough."
"Nuclear assets?"
"Your short company of Marines that landed on Red Tree land were killed with an enhanced radiation device. A neutron bomb. You didn't think we just bought one, did you?" he asked, amused. "In time, as Champion I need to learn the space side of war. But we have two fine commanders handling that for now. The war will probably be over before I get a chance for space training. I'm only twenty-four in your T-years. The previous Champion, William, was just shy of a hundred fifty-two when he died. It's hard to replace that kind of experience. But I really have very little authority and not enough of a career to have much in the way of interesting stories. Didn't you want to know more about the Mothers?" he prodded.
"I'm not sure what I should be asking. What do you think I should know about them?"
"I don't have any human friends and we haven't had humans live with the clan like some. So my ability to compare cultures is limited. However the Champion had me watch a lot of human video, to help understand human culture. I suspect the word Mother may get in the way of understanding what a Mother is to Derf. A Derf Mother doesn't keep a house separate from the community and meet her children and husband there to spend a private evening, like I see in movies. Even mates with a life contract often skip sharing a separate residence. Many people take turns watching and teaching children. So I knew my mother, but I might as often spend a day with an uncle or a cousin, or an evening with an aunt. It was communal, but not what you folks call communism. My mother was a busy executive, so she didn't have a lot of time for just sitting around being idle company. If I was with her it had a purpose. I learned a great deal observing her work. Before she was Second Mother she was already chiefly responsible for supply and storage of food for the clan," he said with pride.
"It's not a small job to plan and delegate for three thousand plus people, what must be planted and harvested. What must be raised and slaughtered and preserved. What must be b
ought for cash money and how it all must be transported and stored and regulated as it is dispensed and turned into meals to last until the next seasonal cycle. It's at least as complicated as running one of the restaurants I've been to here on the station. Mother is a title of deep respect based on merit, not simple biology. You might be better served to call them the First, Second and Third Executives," he suggested.
"What would a soldier learn from a food production executive?" she asked, confused.
"How to manage subordinates, how much to delegate to subordinates and how to know and deal with one who doesn't have the capacity to perform. How to tell if it is inability, or if they are obstructing you. How to see if loss is a bad system, or deliberate fraud and theft. People skills are universal."
"Why does any of this matter to us?" she asked.
"What I'm trying to show you is, they are busy and used to giving orders, resolving issues and moving on. We have no tradition of drawn out negotiation. They dictate to all but their peers – other clan Mothers. When clan Mothers meet they have little time and speak their mind bluntly to other clan Mothers. Wordiness is not valued or rewarded."
"Today you were wasting their time. Once they knew there was no work going to be accomplished they went off and will doubtless try to use the day productively. If you persist in not presenting someone with authority and having a serious discussion, I would expect them to see this all as a wasted effort and go home fairly quickly."
"But if they walk off how can we ever resolve our differences and end the war?" Evelyn protested.
He hesitated, like it was a strange question. "Well, you can die," he offered.
"How can you even expect us to sit and talk with you if you make ridiculous threats?" she said irritated and dismissive.
Garrett sat and thought about it awhile. "I don't know how to persuade you it isn't ridiculous. I'll leave that to the Mothers. I'm just a soldier and convincing you is not my job. If they tell me to kill people and bust stuff, I do it as well as I can."
"If I thought they would do so lightly I'd have never taken the job. We have a history of war, but it has been rare and never for trivial reasons. I'd have been happy to be Champion of Red Tree and die old, never having hoisted the ax, or heard of war."
"Isn't one young girl a rather trivial reason to declare a war?"
Garrett looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Even to one unfamiliar with Derf it was obvious he was shocked. Then he recovered. The narrowed eyes and flat ears required no interpreter. "Perhaps if it were you," he agreed, icily. "Do tell me, at what level would war become reasonable? Ten of your citizens kidnapped? A hundred? A thousand? Or is war reasonable for someone important, but not a young girl, as you say? Perhaps we should war with you over a Mother, but not a farmer? I can tell you this. If another clan had kidnapped one of ours, the Mothers governing the other clan would have instantly understood it was declaring war. They would expect no other response."
"It's not like that," Evelyn objected. "You make us sound callous. War is too risky with modern weapons. You risk things getting out of control and vast damage and many deaths over one person. Should a thousand or ten thousand or a million die for one? Nobody will risk that anymore."
"You make my point for me. You did risk it. You should have known that was the risk. Which is exactly why we would never kidnap one of yours. If the Mothers did not act to protect one and indeed the least of their citizens, why would we give them our loyalty? If our Mothers discarded one of our own like a soiled ass wipe, because they were too cowardly to risk war. I assure you the males would put all three of them to the ax," he said, stroking the bronze weapon head to emphasize his point.
"More than that, if you allow others to take your people, like it is no more than stealing a pig from your woods, it emboldens them to do it whenever the whim strikes them. Soon none of yours are safe anywhere, because you are seen as afraid to protect your own. I find it hard to believe that isn't the same in any society."
"I was supposed to tell you about the Mothers. They did not task me with finding out anything about you, or making a report. However, my unsolicited advice to the Mothers is going to be this: Don't trust these people, they have no moral sense."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Evelyn said, but carefully didn't validate his feelings, just acknowledged them. "The undersecretary will view this discussion and decide how to address these issues. I'll urge him to take this seat tomorrow."
"Best you do," he urged. "The Mothers saw no reason to waste their time with you and I have frankly had my fill of it already. If it is just you again tomorrow, you can sit and talk to the wall for all I care. Even I have better use for my time." He took his armor and left.
* * *
- Media Headlines-Shorts
Vancouver View: Press accompanying State Department unable to find local accommodations to cover Derf talks. Single independent reporter is sole source.
Space Industry News: Two in Indian craft lost to orbital junk. Huge problem from Derf raid.
Fargone AP News Feed: Reports USNA fired on own forces in Fargone system.
Faith Observer: Gilead system declares neutrality to combatants.
John Hartug's Financial Summary: Reflagging of USNA vessels results in claims shortfalls and pharmaceutical shortages. Indium shortages plague optical industries. Platinum up, stocks down, on uncertainty.
Ishpeming Online Reporter: Federal agencies still have no comment on missing heiress.
Toronto University Web: School reports research vessel with students late.
* * *
"Can the High Hopes pair up with the Retribution please?" Lee asked Gordon.
"That's what I was planning anyway," Gordon admitted. "But why?"
"Well I'm attached to her and would like to see the bigger ship protecting her and I assumed you'd stay on the Retribution and I'm not a militia member, so I don't feel I belong on board the military vessel." Gordon was nodding happy agreement. "And I've been separated too long from you, so I want to stay as close as possible, so I'd prefer to be on the High Hopes. After all, I know her better and will be more useful there too."
"We didn't pry you loose just to put you at risk again!"
"So it wasn't the principle of the thing after all, it was just me?"
"Both, but we're at war and all our ships are at risk."
"So it's OK for you and all these other folks," she swept an arm over the crowd, "to risk their necks but not me?"
"You already have been a prisoner and been treated badly. Nobody is going to begrudge you a chance to sit back and recover from the rough experience."
"Oh poor delicate little me… If it had been you the Earthies snatched instead of me how long would you be looking to spend on R&R to recover?" she asked.
Gordon furrowed his brows up and was about to continue the argument when Thor interrupted. "She is right, you are wrong and it's time to shut up and yield before you make an ass of yourself. May I remind you that at about the same age you walked away from your clan and all the security and protection it could give you, if you would just agree to sit on your butt and make barrels all day? You aren't even offering her the dignity of making barrels. I wouldn't blame her if she took her ship and went off to make her own way, if you try to bully her."
"She owns two thirds," Gordon insisted. It was the wrong thing to say.
"Would you take a half billion USNA dollars for your share?" Lee asked, pulling her com out and keying something in one handed. A transfer one might assume. Some of the new crew, who didn't know her circumstances, looked a bit stunned at the casual way such a huge sum was offered.
"I am content to let my interest ride," Gordon said in a strained voice.
"Ships disappear in jump, or I might bust it badly," she admitted readily.
"You'll have Retribution watching over you," he agreed begrudgedly. "I agree you have a right to direct your life. Or risk it even."
"Thank you. I'm going to need some good crew, somebo
dy who can instruct me on stuff like navigation and ship handling."
"Well you obviously can't poach our crews," Thor told her. "You'll have to recruit from the civilian side. Fortunately Fargone is a good spot to do that."
"The couple who ferried it here would be worth talking to," Gordon suggested. "The Wilsons are Loonies by citizenship. He is ex-military and she is from a ship family. They might still be in system, as they were looking to get a ride here specifically."
That was good. If Gordon was making suggestions he wasn't sulking.
"If you want short crews maybe they would be enough?" Lee asked.
"No, you need four experienced hands who can stand watches. You will be learning, but it will be quite a while before you can handle anything. That's a crew of five. That's easy enough on the environmental systems if you pick all humans."
"Clare will be with me too. I'm responsible for her. Consider her family. But we can bunk together and the two of us are so low mass it is no burden on environmental."
Gordon didn't have any argument left in him. He lifted one eye ridge dramatically, but didn't object. "You should teach her to do support roles like you did when we went out. Cleaning and filters and cooking and such. She'd feel better about herself being useful anyway."
"Oh, sure. I figured that as a given." Then she got the funniest look. "But I think I better have that conversation with her, before we are fifty light-years from home and she says: "You want me to do what?"
"Heh, you are growing up," Gordon noted.
"If the Mothers will sell me the Dr. Whitney, I intend to name it The Champion William," Lee informed him.
"I shall suggest that, even if they don't want to sell it," Gordon agreed.
* * *
"Good morning. You are, Undersecretary of State Molson?" the First Mother asked quizzically. She consulted the com at her elbow and scrolled scanning the information there.
"Are you the Jacob Molson that was an aide to Ferris Hu? Our list is perhaps a year old and we don't show you or Ms. Houke being senior staff."
Family Law Page 50
