During their teaching sessions, Mahree grew used to phrasing every question on a new topic with extreme caution. As the humans had already discovered, many subjects were proscribed, but there seemed to be no consistency in what the Simiu avoided discussing. For example, while Dhurrrkk' had displayed no uneasiness in telling Mahree that their leaders were female, her tentative question concerning how top Simiu leaders were chosen was met with yet another polite evasion.
The same was true of any reference to their judicial system. Mahree became adept at backing off immediately whenever she encountered a sensitive subject.
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"Now, it is my turn," Dhurrrkk' said, after several lessons. "I wish also to speak your language. Please, I would like to say your name, first." He wrinkled his muzzle, obviously trying hard. "Hhhahhhrree."
"Mah-ree," she said, exaggerating the initial sound.
'' Hhmmahhhree.''
"Good!" She nodded enthusiastically at him. "Just bring your mouth together a little bit more for the 'm' sound." She demonstrated.
"Mahhrreee," Dhurrrkk' said.
"You've got it!"
"This," Dhurrrkk' announced, a few minutes later as he stroked Sekhmet gently, "is my pet."
Mahree looked down at her computer link's tiny holoscreen as an image formed. It showed Dhurrrkk'--it was amazing how quickly she'd learned to identify his features even in a group of other Simiu--with an animal perched on his back, holding to his mane with tiny clawed paws. It had short, sleek black fur, with a white-ringed tail. Long, thick whiskers below a white bandit-mask gave its short-muzzled face a mischievous look. It had big, dark liquid eyes. To Mahree it looked vaguely like a cross between a lemur and a seal.
"Oh, it's adorable!" she exclaimed.
"Her name is Rrazzkk'll."
Mahree smiled, carefully keeping her lips together. "She looks like a 'rascal,'
" she said, amused.
"Please, what is 'rascal'?"
"Someone who is mischievous, who enjoys making people go to a lot of trouble for his or her sake ..." Mahree said, thinking as she spoke. "Someone who likes to play jokes."
"Jokes?"
She sighed. "Jokes," she began, "are hard to explain. I will try, but you must stop me if I speak of something I should not. Will you promise to do that?"
He nodded solemnly. Good, she thought. That way I won't get myself in trouble with their taboos. Okay, here goes. "Honored Dhurrrkk', how do you feel when you see or do something that should happen one way, but instead happens another way? An awkward way, but not so that it causes hurt?"
"You mean when I try to do a thing the right way, but it goes 96
wrong and I am left to feel foolish? It depends on who is present and whether my honor is compromised."
"Well, what about when you see that sort of thing happen to somebody else, does it make you feel amused?"
"Amused?"
Mahree waved her hands helplessly. "Let me show you." Waking the dozing Sekhmet, she hastily found the cat's play mouse on its string and dangled it.
Dhurrrkk' watched as the cat lazily batted it; then, as Sekhmet got into the play, Mahree began swinging the mouse. The little black animal nearly turned herself inside out as she leaped and pounced, finally rolling over on her back and grabbing her toy with a mock-fierce expression on her face.
She bit the mouse, "disemboweled" it with her hind claws, then, when she had thoroughly "killed" it, strode away with an erect tail and a disdainful expression.
Mahree glanced at Dhurrrkk'. "How did that make you feel?"
"Good," he responded. "Feel warm inside. Sekhmet is being so silly, looking so fierce, when she is really so small. She wants us to think she could have easily defeated a far more powerful opponent."
"Well," Mahree told him, "that's feeling 'amused.' Sekhmet's actions amused you. You found them humorous. And a joke is a humorous little story or action that's told or done deliberately to make you feel amused."
Dhurrrkk' thought that one over for a minute. "I believe I understand," he said, finally. "Do your people have many jokes?"
"Many," she answered.
"Tell me one, please."
Mahree shook her head. "It wouldn't be humorous--amusing-- to you."
"I understand that this is cultural, in the most part. But I am curious."
She screwed up her forehead in thought. "It's no use," she told him, after a long moment. "I can't think of any clean ones. And Uncle Raoul would never forgive me for telling you a dirty one."
"Clean? Dirty?" He touched his own computer link, obviously puzzled. "My translation gives these terms as measurements of personal hygiene and of one's interior environment, especially concerning items such as dust, earth, grease, and assorted individual effluvia due to lack of grooming. What have these things to do with jokes?"
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Mahree began to giggle, hiding her teeth behind her hand. "Oh, dear! I just can't figure out a way to explain dirty jokes! If I can ever think of a way to do it, I promise I will, but right now, it's just impossible!"
"Impossible? Really?" His violet eyes held disappointment.
"Really," she assured him. "Trust me."
"Trust?" He was suddenly solemn again. "You are speaking of an honor-bond? Most people would say we have not known each other long enough for that . . . but I feel that you are a friend who is worthy of it. Perhaps even of being honor-bound."
"What is honor-bound?" she asked, suddenly alerted. Somehow she knew that Dhurrrkk' had just revealed a vital piece in the puzzle of how Simiu society was structured.
The alien hesitated, then said, "Among my people, to be honor-bound is the strongest tie possible between Those-WhoAre-Not-Family. When two individuals swear that they are honor- bound, it means they pledge to defend each other's name, each other's honor . . . even unto the Arena-of-Honor."
"You mean fight?" Mahree held her breath. There had been no indication of violence in the films the Simiu had shown them, and none of their information had included this "Arena-of-Honor."
Dhurrrkk's crest flattened suddenly and the girl's heart sank. Oh, no. Another taboo. But after a moment, her new friend said slowly, "I am not supposed to be conversing of these things, but I forgot that you were not one of us. It is good to just ... talk ... without constraint."
"I am honored that you feel you can talk to me," Mahree said. She hesitated, then continued, "Honored Dhurrrkk' ... I promise I won't speak of any of this to my people unless you give me permission. Does that make it all right?"
"I am grateful," Dhurrrkk' said, with evident relief. He hesitated. "My people are not sure how you humans will respond to knowledge that we battle for our honor. Not as a people, you understand, but when two individuals, or two clans, challenge each other, yes, their difficulty is settled in the Arena }
of-Honor. When we select our leaders, each must be judged by the people after her performance in the Arena, as well as on her personal merit as a leader. The Council did not think you would like knowing that we can be violent."
Mahree's jaw dropped, then, abruptly, she was fighting the urge to dissolve into hysterical laughter. Hastily, she put both
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hands over her mouth so her teeth would not show. She saw Dhurrrkk's crest flatten abruptly. "No, no," she said, sobering instantly. "I am not laughing at you! I'm laughing at both our peoples--each worrying that the other would be distressed to find that they were capable of violence!"
He gazed at her wonderingly. "Your people fight, also?"
"Not quite in the same way," she said. "We don't have challenges or duels anymore. But until a couple of hundred years ago, your people would have had a hard time finding any people more prone to violence than the human race. And we are still capable of doing terrible things to one another. Now I'm telling you something my people wouldn't want me to admit, so I will ask you for your silence, in return."
Dhurrrkc made a small chirping, bubbling noise, the Simiu equivalent of a chuckle. "I see," he said.
"This is, I think, a good joke on both of us, is it not?"
"It certainly is," she agreed. "These fights ... are they to the death?"
"Not often. Most are conducted as 'ritual hence.' The combatants do not attempt to injure or draw blood. When they give the ritual bite, they do not tear the skin. Ritual-hence encounters are like . . ." he paused, signaled his computer link, then listened intently for the translation, "the word translates best as 'wrestling.' You know of that?"
"Yes, I understand. So you don't use weapons--sharp or blunt objects you hold in your hand to strike blows with--things like knives, clubs, or guns?"
"I have seen 'knives' that you use to eat. What are 'clubs'? And 'guns'?"
She sighed. "A club is a long, heavy piece of material that can be used to injure by striking blows. A gun is an instrument that projects a beam that knocks people out, or disrupts living cells, or even rearranges the molecular structure of matter so it's vaporized instantly."
"Oh, no." Her words had shocked him, Mahree could tell. "Do you mean to tell me that your people actually use these 'weapons'?"
"Yes," she admitted, feeling uncomfortable. "Mostly to protect ourselves.
Don't your people use weapons?"
Dhurrrkk' drew himself up. "That would be ultimate dishonor. Even in a death-duel, all we need are these"--he flexed
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powerful, thick-nailed hands--"and these. Your pardon, Honored Mahree, I do this only to show." So saying, he opened his mouth wide, lips pulling back.
Mahree recoiled, startled. She'd never seen a Simiu's teeth before, except for glimpses of the short, squared-off incisors. Dhurrrkk's curved canines gleamed ivory, strong and sharp, and so long she could see where they fitted into grooves in the bottom teeth.
Now she knew why baring one's teeth was threatening to a Simiu! "I can see why you wouldn't need guns to kill somebody," Mahree said feebly.
"Oh, killing is a most unusual happening, even as the result of a death-challenge," he replied equably. "The winner is usually satisfied by the loser's humiliation and dishonor and does not inflict death. But sometimes death results when the loser proves his complete loss of honor by taking his own life." He shook his head. "That is very bad. Then the loser has dishonored his entire clan."
"I understand," Mahree said. "Tell me, Honored Dhurrrkk', are you honor-bound to anyone?"
"No." The Simiu was uncomfortable; his crest drooped. "At home I am regarded as being one who likes to think his own thoughts, go his own way, and thus am not one others desire to know very well. That is why Rhrrrkkeet'
brought me here, I think . . . she hoped to improve the way I am regarded by my peers. There is much honor, much status, to be gained by being chosen to meet you humans."
"You know," Mahree said, smiling, "I was thinking the same thing about myself the other day. I hope for both our sakes it works!"
"So," the young Simiu said, after a long pause, "we have now trusted each other to keep a confidence of grave consequence, were it to be revealed to our elders, correct?"
"Yes," Mahree said. "At least for the time being, until our peoples know each other better, and we decide together to tell them what we've learned from each other."
"Correct," he said. "So, in addition to naming each other friend, we have now taken an honor-bond."
"Does that mean we have to fight to defend each other?" Mahree asked uneasily.
"No, we are not h onor-bound to each other. That is for two C
100 A. Crispin
people who have many honor-bonds between them. No, but we must be prepared to do whatever is necessary rather than betray each other's trust.
Do you agree?"
"Yes, I do," she said, after a moment's consideration. "But I think that soon there will have to be complete truth between our peoples."
"I do, too. I know that Rhrrrkkeet' believes so, too. She is arguing for the Council to agree."
"Do you think they will?"
"Eventually. They are often slow to decide, because they must envision every possibility that could result from their actions. It can be frustrating, waiting for them."
Mahree sighed and nodded. "I know just what you mean."
"Human governments are like that, too?"
"Oh, yes. Our people are much more alike than I would ever have dreamed."
Dhurrrkk' was puzzled. "But we are very different. Look." He reached over and took her hand, held it up and splayed his own fingers beside hers.
"See?"
She glanced quickly at him, careful not to stare, and smiled. By this time keeping her lips together was almost automatic. "Are we really, Dhurrrkk'?
You're too intelligent to think only of what's on the surface. I know you are."
He considered, and Mahree could tell he was amused. "You are right. How could we have an honor-bond if we were as different as we appear outwardly? It is strange, but I am now realizing that I think of you as more of a friend than most of my classmates."
She nodded, and said in his language, "I think same, Honored Dhurrrkk' my friend."
The violet eyes widened. "You have been practicing! That was almost perfect!"
Mahree grinned. "Damn right."
"Damn? Please, what is that word mean?"
She got to her feet. "I'll tell you on the way over to your place. I want you to ask Rhrrrkkeet' if you can show me around your station again, all right?"
He nodded vigorously. "Ohkkay!"
ci
CHAPTER 8
Checkmate
Dear Diary:
Do you believe in inter-species marriage?
JUST KIDDING!
Seriously, after some of the human boys I've known, Dhurrrkk' would be a big improvement. Of course, I'd be robbing the cradle ... he's only ten Sol-Standard years old. Even though Simiu mature faster than we do, he's still relatively younger than I.
It's been over two weeks since we met, and we've both been working hard during our language lessons. Soon I'll feel confident enough to walk up to the First Ambassador and say in understandable Simiu, "Greetings, Honored Rhrrrkkeet'. How are you today?"
Won't that be great! Especially if Dhurrrkk' is standing beside me and greeting Uncle Raoul in English!
The honor-bond Dhurrrkk' and I swore is becoming an awkward burden.
Jerry and Rob suspect that the Simiu are hiding something, and last night they asked me if I had any ideas on what it might be. Of course I told them
"no," but I felt guilty saying it.
During our talk, Jerry pointed out something that I'd missed, which is that the Simiu technology we've seen so far is on a par with ours--in some ways it's less advanced. So how come they've forged ahead of us in just two areas--
the faster S.V.
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drive and the FTL transmissions? It could be coincidence, but Jerry doesn't think so. Rhrrrkkeet' took the bridge crew on a tour of the space station, and Paul finally got a good look at the S. V. drive on one of the Simiu vessels.
Parts of that drive, Jerry said, bore only a superficial resemblance to the rest of the aliens' technology. He compared it to finding a cryo-crystal memory hooked up to an antique punch- card computer.
What's going on here? And why?
I was tempted to ask Dhurrrkk', but he'd only tell me under another honor-bond, and that would just be one more thing I couldn't tell anyone else. It's hard enough not letting on that I can understand Simiu without my voder.
The "social hours" continue to be a success, and Uncle Raoul said yesterday that everyone can go from now on. Joan is teaching several Simiu to play chess. They're crazy about it.
Uncle Raoul still won't relax that damned rule about one crew member remaining armed whenever the Simiu are around. I tried again to talk to him about it; he listened politely, then ignored me. Of course, due to the honor-bond, I couldn't explain how disastrous it would be for the Simiu to realize that all along we humans have been wearing weapons. We'd be forever dishonored in their eyes.
>
Lately, Rob and I have been spending a lot of time together.
He's with me more often than he is with Yoki, how's that for irony? The bastard still teases me and treats me like his kid sister, damn him.
It's hell working with him. I have to control my reactions when he smiles at me, or tells me I look nice, or gives me a compliment. Once or twice he casually put an arm around my
[ shoulders, and that was the hardest of all. When he touches me I either want to lean against him and feel all my bones dissolve, or I have to fight not to stiffen up and yank away. Either reaction would give me away, and that would be so humiliating I can't bear the thought.
There I go again, running on about my angst, and I promised myself not to do that, because it just makes me depressed. I've been depressed a lot lately.
Possibly it's the letdown from working so hard on the translation interface . . .
or maybe physical weariness from spending several hours each day in the connecting
tube, with its hot, moist air and its higher-than-Earth geefield 103
(Jolie's gravity is slightly less than one gee, so I probably feel it more than the native-born Terrans) ... or perhaps it's just that my period is almost due.
At least I'll get to see Dhurrrkk' in about an hour.
The "social hour" was in full swing. For the first time, Desiree's entire crew complement was present, along with twenty Simiu. The two species mingled, chatting via voder, and the connecting tube was noisy and crowded. Dhurrrkk' and Mahree stood by the wall, watching the First Mate give a chess lesson to a young Simiu named Khrekk'.
"No, no! The bishop moves this way--diagonally. Like this, see?" Joan demonstrated with the chess piece, her opponent watching every move with wide violet eyes. After a moment, he re-moved the piece to a more orthodox location.
"Yes, that's right," she told him. "Though that move leaves your bishop in a bad spot. Watch what happens to it when I move my rook."
The alien watched with visible distress as the First Mate captured the errant bishop.
"Okay, now it's your move again," Joan announced. Khrekk' shot a glare in her direction, but she was studying the board and didn't see. Quickly, at random, the Simiu grabbed a chess piece. His teacher held up a warning hand. "Wait, Khrekk'. Before you move, you'd better think about whether that piece is really the one you want to move, and what the consequences of that move will have on all the other pieces on the board."
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