As I threw in my good wishes of how I hoped they would achieve the result they wished for from their meeting with the Zang, I led them toward the glass doors of the inner airlock. Parsons, several armed guards, Redius and Nesbitt followed in their wake. The Zang symbol was the very newest in my repertoire, and I was not certain if its import would be evident. I tried to express the silver-glass pillar’s majesty and power, and the way that its aura reached out far beyond its physical form. The sound of the door swishing open and the rush of air that followed it only added to the mystery. The Kail followed hesitatingly, their eyes fixed upon me. I could not tell if they were awed, or merely wary.
Once the doors closed behind us, the warmth of the reception room became a fit setting for a plangent, homey tune etched out on a hundred violins. Thus accompanied, I expressed my hopes for friendship, offering my heart on outstretched hands to each of the recoiling Kail in turn. My last move was an energetic spin in place to show all of the people of the universe were one. I dropped to one knee with my head bowed low beside the party of robed diplomats, and paused there. A few beads of sweat blossomed upon my brow, a tribute to my efforts. I looked up, breathing deeply, seeking a response from my audience.
Parsons clapped three times, very slowly, his face an unreadable mask. Minister Plenipotentary Melarides, who was a distant relative, though not within the Imperium line of descent, joined in, patting her hands together gently. She wore the traditional robes of the diplomatic corps, as did the several humans and Uctu behind her. Melarides also had an unusual, lighted metal collar around her neck.
“Thank you, Lord Thomas, she said. “That was most . . . energetic.”
“Thank you, minister,” I said, looking up into her sincere brown gaze. I rose to my feet in an explosion of grace. The Kail flinched backward again, their stony skin rattling audibly. They certainly were nervous creatures. “I hope you evinced pleasure from my dance of welcome.”
“Well, I must say, I have never seen anything like it.” She turned away from me and tucked her hands into her sleeves. She bowed to the Kail. “Welcome, friends. Welcome aboard the Imperium Jaunter. I greet you in the name of Emperor Shojan XII.” Then, touching the collar, she emitted a series of sounds that reminded me of a cat about to be sick, coupled with the wild cry of a capacitor heating up to explode. My surprise was nothing compared with the Kail’s, who regarded her with the look of people who had just discovered that their dog could talk.
“You speak our language,” the translator emitted. “Not well, but you don’t stink.”
“You honor me,” the envoy said, bowing again. “Was your journey uneventful?”
“The human and the Uctu who accompanied us were offensive, but the transit was adequate.”
Behind Parsons, Nesbitt and Redius looked a trifle sheepish. The Uctu’s dropped jaw said there was a story to be told. I would learn it later on, in private.
“On behalf of the Emperor, I apologize. May I ask your names?”
The leader emitted an electronic-sounding screech followed by a couple of pops.
“I am Phutes,” the translator said, in a pleasant female voice. “My siblings are Sofus and Mrdus.” The Kail waved a bulky hand to indicate the stiff-shouldered one and the multi-limbed one in turn. Even the shortest one was a hand or so taller than I. All three were bulky enough to make even the spacious room seem crowded.
Melarides smiled and bowed again. “We are very pleased to have you on board. May I make you known to the rest of my staff? This is my charge d’affaires, Notram Ayemo.” The slight, teak-skinned man made a leg. A heavy-set, dark woman with narrow, hazel eyes bowed next. “This is Dr. Sri Catalan, a xenobiologist.” Melarides went around the circle and identified each of her staff by name, ending on me. “And this is my distant cousin and a cousin to the emperor, Lord Thomas Kinago. But you have already met, when he performed a wonderful dance for you.”
Mrdus peered at me. His voice was a series of crackles that didn’t appear to come from his misshapen mouth.
“Is he ill?” he asked. “I don’t want to catch madness from slime beings.”
“I am sorry,” the translatorbot added. “That is literally what the phrase means.”
“No offense taken,” Melarides said, smiling. I forced my lips into a similar position, though inwardly I was seething. Slime? “He is healthy. Allow me to offer wishes for your own continued well-being.”
Phutes opened his cone of a mouth and emitted a harsh honk.
“We are well, and wish to remain in that condition.”
I stood to one side, aghast and annoyed. How could they think I was ill, when I had just performed an energetic welcome that included the history of the Imperium and my own family? I opened my own mouth to protest.
“Lord Thomas merely wished to greet you and welcome you on board this ship,” Parsons said, forestalling me.
Mrdus didn’t seem to appreciate the import. “Do all human interactions begin in this fashion?”
“They do not,” Parsons assured him, quelling me with a firm glance. “It was a special effort from his lordship.”
“Don’t do it again,” Phutes said, turning his gravelly face in my direction. “His body moves around in an unnatural fashion. He jiggles too much. It is offensive.”
That aroused my ire still further. Jiggles! After all the training I had undergone to bring my frame to its present flawless condition and depth of muscular control. Offensive! While keeping in mind my vow to show them nothing but kindness and good fellowship, I took their negative opinion as a personal challenge. I would keep up my performances until they liked them.
Parsons, as always, seemed to intuit my thoughts, and raised his left eyebrow a quarter of a millimeter. I didn’t take his admonition to heart. For once, I had nothing about which I might potentially feel guilty. I wasn’t going to break into an impromptu reel. After all, Madame Deirdre had been firm about making certain the symbols I evoked were deliberate and arranged in an artful fashion. I needed to go away and choreograph future dances. I would swallow my annoyance so I did not undo any of the effort that Special Envoy Melarides was going to put forth on behalf of the Imperium. However, I planned to work into my next performance my irritation that they had not appreciated my first effort. I would show them!
“What may we do for you now?” Melarides asked the Kail. “May we show you to the cabins we have arranged for you?”
“We do not risk being shut in,” Phutes said. The wordless cry that served him for a voice rose almost to a scream. “We will not occupy one of your ‘cabins.’”
“I have seen to it that there are no doors on your domicile,” Melarides said, soothingly. “Only curtains made of chained metal strands. You cannot be shut in, but you will have privacy.”
A low level hum, like that emitted by an air purifier, arose between the three stone giants.
“That is adequate,” Sofus said at last. Melarides looked relieved.
“Shall we go there now?”
“No,” Phutes declared. “Proton Zang. We want to see Proton Zang.”
“Very well. Please come this way.” The envoy gestured for the Kail to follow her. The ambassadorial staff closed ranks behind the visitors. Nesbitt and Redius fell in beside the guards and securitybots. Redius shot a humorous glance over his shoulder at me, and his coral-scaled tail twitched in amusement.
Though it was clear that I was dismissed from attendance, I attached myself as additional escort. In my pique, I found solace in watching the Kail navigate down the corridors. They went to considerable lengths to avoid casual contact with any of the inhabitants of the Jaunter. That proved a challenge to Melarides, who was a tactile individual, always reaching out to put her hand on a misshapen forearm or shoulder. But she was also an observant one. Once she noticed them flinch from her, she tucked her hands into her capacious sleeves, out of the way of accidental touching. In addition, the Kail’s uneven gait provided me with endless entertainment. It had never occurred to me what lo
gistics might be involved in walking with three legs, let alone five. Whereas upright bipedal beings, among whom I counted myself, utilized cut-time rhythmic locomotion, I had observed from movement studies that four-legged beings moved by putting forward opposite limbs front and back. The largest of the Kail was able to make use of this fairly graceful gait. His two companions rolled and rollicked as though they couldn’t make up their minds which foot to use. I began to set myself wagers as to which leg would move next.
I thought that the lift shaft might confound them, but they entered it with ease. Melarides maneuvered within the car so that she stood by the door, waving off any crew who might seek to ride along with us as we descended deck after deck.
I found myself beside the translatorbot at the rear of the party.
“Hello,” I said to the cluster of eyes just below the level of my chin. “I am Lord Thomas Kinago.”
“Yes,” it replied, tilting one of the lenses up toward me. “I have seen your name on the manifest, my lord. A pleasure to meet you. I am NR-111.”
I made a slight bow. “The pleasure is mine. How long have you been working in the diplomatic service?”
“Three hundred and fifty-two years. This is my first assignment with the Kail, though. Most refreshing.”
“Is it really?” I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper. I knew its receivers were sensitive enough to hear me, even if no biological being could. “They seem very difficult.”
“It is refreshing. They have not attempted to destroy or disassemble me, as the Donre did on my second mission. I went through six structural housings during that assignment. Representative Phutes and his siblings claim a kinship with silicon-based beings such as myself.”
“They are siblings?” I asked, surveying the motley assortment before me. “One could not miss that they are of the same species, but they bear little resemblance to one another.”
“So they claim,” NR-111 said. “I have no means of determining whether or not they speak literally or figuratively. The Kail don’t discuss family or reproduction with outsiders. That is one of the most profound taboos in their culture. I know that Dr. Catalan is hoping to learn more about their biology. I maintain a list of no-go subjects according to my briefing by the diplomatic service central office. I do not pass along those questions to the Kail; I merely inform them that an unwelcome question has been asked. They get a little . . . excitable . . . when provoked. Therefore, it’s best not to insult them by pressing on topics that they prefer not to discuss. The envoy knows that. She is well-briefed.”
“A culture of privacy,” I commented. “That presents a challenge to the envoy, does it not? If she can convince them to ally with the Imperium, Infogrid files will be opened on them, whether or not they choose to update them.”
“Most likely those files will be encrypted, to be used only for reference by the government LAIs and appropriate ministers who brief the emperor, not open for public commentary. Very likely it will be one such as I who will update them. The Kail won’t have to if they prefer not to.”
“Well, I don’t care,” I said. “My concern is that they do not do to this ship what they did to the Whiskerchin. When will they release it?”
“Once they’ve conversed with the Zang, I believe,” NR-111 said. “That was my understanding. They don’t discuss their plans with me. As you no doubt noticed, they speak among themselves in a supersonic frequency that delivers considerable information in a very short time, similar to although slower than the way we converse among ourselves.”
“Don’t you listen just a little to them?” I asked, in a wheedling tone. Mrdus rotated in place so he could see the others in the lift. His three odd eyes fixed upon me. I dropped into Sang-Li fingerspelling so that no word of mine could be picked up by the Kail. Another of NR-111’s lenses tilted downward to view my hands. “You must have every opportunity to hear their private conferences.”
A small screen popped up on the top of the translator’s upright cylinder and canted toward me so only I could see it. On it, I saw the image of a pair of hands almost precisely identical to my own.
“I am sorry, Lord Thomas,” the translator spelled out. “That is outside my brief. I have taken an oath to provide expert language assistance to our visitors. What they say in private is held as strictly confidential. Besides, the way they converse privately is in a dialect that it is difficult to understand, although we are working on comprehension.”
“But we know so little about them. You could be of enormous service to the Imperium by giving us insights into their thoughts.”
“I am sorry,” NR-111 said again. “The rules are very strict. I would be sacked if I violate them.”
I dropped my hands. “I wouldn’t want that to happen,” I said aloud. “I’m just very curious.”
“I am sure there will be enough new data made public later on to satisfy querents,” the translator said, cheerfully, returning to voice communication. “Pardon me; we are arriving.”
I made way for NR-111 to rejoin her charges, and the shaft door slid open.
CHAPTER 17
The chamber that had been arranged for the Zang was on the same level as the cargo bay and the engineering department. It had a very large door, even though the Zang did not need to use it, or the cargo lift adapted for its especial employment, or need anything to eat. It was, to all intents and purposes, as far as the Zang was concerned, the symbol of a cabin. We were rather honored that it chose to use it at all.
When Ambassador Melarides was still several meters from the hatch, it slid open, and Dr. Derrida, dwarfed by the enormous portal, peeked out. When I saw her large brown eyes, my heart did a grand jeté and a back flip. She spotted me among the crowd of escorts and smiled, then turned to the Kail.
“Welcome,” she said. “Proton is expecting you. Please come in.”
Phutes honked indignantly. NR-111 promptly spoke up.
“What is she doing here? Our audience must be private.”
“She will translate the Zang’s impressions for you, Phutes,” Melarides said. “None of us have that skill to impart your meaning to Proton, not even our translator.”
Phutes stamped his center foot, making even a floor as sturdy as the deck plate shudder. The smell of rain on wet concrete became more pronounced. “This was not told to us! We know how to communicate with the Zang. We want to speak with it alone.”
“You can try,” Laine said, cheerily, standing to one side, though there was plenty of room for them or a small army platoon to pass. “I don’t have to be there if you don’t want me. Go right in. It’s waiting.”
The Kail didn’t hesitate for courtesy. They thundered past the tiny woman and into the high-ceilinged chamber. NR-111 rolled sedately after them.
I followed them over the threshold. Then I felt a hand settle gently upon my forearm.
“I think they want to be confer alone,” the envoy said, with the gentlest of admonitory and motherly glances.
“I’d like Lord Thomas to stay,” Laine said, with a look that made my heart melt. “He can sit with me on my end of the room.”
“It would be my honor,” I said. I peered around for Parsons, but he had oozed away silently at some point, unobserved by us all. To my mind, that meant I was free to do as I pleased.
“As you please, Dr. Derrida,” Melarides said. She looked resigned. I seemed to obtain that reaction more commonly than not, but I was too delighted by Laine’s interest to take offense. “Then, I’ll just take my leave of the Kail. The guards will remain outside the door to escort the Kail to their quarters when they have finished with their conference.”
It would take a superb actor to hide the response that the Zang’s presence elicited in a mere human being, let alone a heap of stones like the Kail. I had already experienced it, so I was more prepared than my fellows for the sensation of awe and sheer force that impacted upon my person. How Laine withstood it day after day, year after year, I did not know. I felt as though sound waves bat
tered against my chest, making my ribs reverberate. My eyelids fluttered frantically, as if fighting against bright sunshine. I forced them open so I could behold the majesty of the Zang. The Kail approached it with their hands up, almost in a gesture of supplication, or fear. They were every bit as impressed by it as I hoped that they would be. So were my crewmembers.
“Marvelous,” Redius whispered, staying close to my shoulder. I could almost hear the echo in his voice.
Nesbitt swallowed deeply. “Yeah. We didn’t get to see it when it arrived. Pretty amazing.”
“That’s a very small word for an overwhelming sensation, isn’t it?” I said, enjoying the effect once again. “One can feel the eons of its very existence. This is, as far as we know, the elder race of the galaxy. Possibly the universe. It invites awe.”
“Uh-huh,” Nesbitt agreed, unable to take his eyes off the glowing alien. “It’s like that.”
The Zang towered over its visitors, exuding silver light that I fancied I could see through the very bodies of the Kail. Phutes, who seemed to be the leader, began honking and shouting at it in rising and falling tones that might have been a song of some kind, if I suspected that the Kail were in any way familiar with music. The Zang did not turn toward them. The enormous eyes were hidden from view, facing a hull plate a meter or so from the corner. The stone giants that were so large in comparison with humans were dwarfed by the other alien and its immense aura. I felt the sweep of energy flood through me again and again. Though silent, it had the enveloping quality of rich, orchestral sound, drowning out the pathetic noises that the Kail were making.
“It’s very curious today,” Laine said. “I can sense it reaching out a lot. Listening, but I don’t think it’s listening to them.”
“What does a Zang listen to?” I said, leaning closer to her so I did not need to shout over the cacophony. She wore a spicy scent that was warmed by the temperature of her body. I found it enticing and intriguing as the woman herself. I leaned closer.
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