For the first time, Lori looked at him. He was staring at her, ears forward, eyes alert, leaning slightly toward her, amazed, or insulted, she could not tell.
“The six races here differ in many respects, and not just in physical appearance. Long ago, we recognized the futility of trying to impose our system of beliefs, culture, history, mores, customs, and rules on one another. Instead, we see those differences not as something to be changed, to challenge, to fight over, but as something to study, to learn from, to respect, and to cherish. This is done in a system of honor. And honor is the hallmark of the group here assembled before you. It is the major criteria for acceptance by and within the group, and the lack of honor will insure rejection of any and all attempts to participate in the grand possibilities before you.”
Borrelia interrupted her, saying, “Honor? What is this, of honor? You kill and maim, and destroy our places, and speak to me of honor.” A statement, not a question.
Lori went on as if not hearing him. “In choosing, you may remain as you are, and we will not bother you, nor visit you again. In time, you may ascend to the far stars, but you will do so by your own efforts, not with the help and knowledge of those before you, and in whatever time that may take. Such knowledge is not shared with immature, hot tempered, ill-behaved races. We demand, and expect, honorable treatment, both of our persons, and in our trade dealings. Absent one or the other or both, and we do not trade, nor do we tarry long.”
Her eyes bored in on him. “Hear me well, Minister, honor is not to be trifled with. Your failure to act in an honorable fashion dooms you to oblivion.”
“When is it I do not act with honor? It is you, in bringing me here, and in destroying valuable property, that act in dishonor. I, and the Hierarchy, are honorable people. We demand admittance to your group, and full restitution, as already detailed.”
“Not only do you act without honor, but in repeating your petty claims, your dishonor is compounded by the actions of others...”
“That is not of my doing. Nor the Hierarchy,” he said, interrupting her, to looks of concern and annoyance of the others in the allied delegation.
Lori went on, ignoring the outburst, but finding keeping her temper increasingly difficult. “...and your tolerance of dishonorable people in your midst, in the mistreatment of visitors, and in false statements, is the example of that which must change.”
“We did no such thing. Your destruction of the hospitality place is a terrible thing from a guest, and truly dishonorable.”
Lori stared at him, and said, her voice cold, but probably not reflected in translation. “The translator must not be working. Let me define our terms. A guest is someone free to leave. Their presence is valued, they are given the finest rooms, ample refreshments, and service and consideration for their needs. Their body is not set upon, and beaten for any reason, nor their personal items forcible removed. A place of hospitality provides for the needs and comfort of the guests, not for those in charge. Prisoners are kept in prisons, where they are not free to come and go, though even in our prisons, we do not summarily beat and torture those inside.”
“Never has such a thing been done here. You over reacted, and did so in vengeance, in hate. You have no proof.”
Lori looked at him as a silence grew. Slowly she stood, and began unbuttoning her shirt. She flipped it open, and backward, let if fall to the floor behind her. “Borrelia,” she said forcefully, using his name for the first time, “Every time you open you mouth, your depth of dishonor grows. Here is the proof, upon my body, of the lack of honor, and of the mistreatment, in what you call a guest place.” She pointed to the still bandaged scrapes, the healing, scabbed over lines, the blotches on her skin, her breast, her side, and as she slowly turned around to show her back a mass of dark, still purple marks.
Everyone in the tent stared at her, and she felt the growing tenseness of the group, could see in the stiffness of the posture, the seething anger at her treatment.
Borrelia stared at her, in surprise, horror or disgust, she could not tell.
Hunter took the shirt, retrieved by an illi-illi, and together, they lifted it for Lori when she again faced the table, who slid her arms into the sleeves, and began buttoning it for her.
When they finished, she sat down and said, “The damage to the prison, and the space base, was the result of bad treatment and aggressive acts on the part of your people. Such treatment gets the result seen. Had we sought vengeance, vast areas of the planet would still be burning, on fire, and uninhabitable for generations to come.” She raised a hand, one finger pointing, and Borrelia ducked down below the edge of the table. No doubt he’d heard of the power from that finger. When his eyes appeared again, she went on, “Be thankful, Borrelia, that I did not extract vengeance on this planet for the dishonor and pain and disrespect its inhabitants showed to me. Others might. Beware of how you treat the visitors from the stars, for they possess power you cannot imagine, and hold it in check with difficulty when their honor is violated.” Lori looked at him a moment. She lowered her hand. “And know this. Any further dishonor to the person of a visitor from the sky will be met with instant death for anyone who dares to try. Death and destruction will visit the place where such dishonor occurs, for it must be cleansed, and any and all will perish in that place also. Do not trifle with those from the stars.”
Everyone there, every one of the delegates, stood, and as one, said, “Yes!” They sat again.
Borrelia seemed to cower. When he spoke, and for the first time, the native’s voice was lower. “What can we do?” he said.
“It is not too late to redeem your honor. The first thing you must do is to return to me the personal items taken away.” The flatscreen display showed them as she spoke. “My necklace, a gift from my mother. My rings, from my fingers. My watch. My head covering. My boots.”
“Impossible, all were lost in the fire...”
“Before I left the prison, I retrieved that of mine there present. These things were not there. Find them and return them, and we will speak again. In so doing, you may atone for the dishonor shown earlier. Only then will I consider another meeting. If you do that, you may propose additional discussions with me. As I said, we are explorers and traders. We have wonderful things to trade. Should you wish to do so. You need not, of course. If you reject this offer, we will leave your part of the world. But we may stay to trade elsewhere. Do you understand?”
“Of course. But we rule this world, the Exalted T’ming rules all of Magadana. Only he says who comes and goes, who stays and who leaves, who trades, and who does not.”
“So be it. Tell T’ming what is said. Convey to him the message from the star travelers. This meeting is closed.”
Lori, and most of the delegation stood and left, marching quickly outside. The bigboys remained behind, as planned, with one Anawoka to translate. One approached Borrelia, and said, “You know whom you dishonor, who you argue with and annoy with your petty demands? This one speaking, and those from whom she comes, are known as the Earth Lady, the Sky Lady, the Shining One, the Savior of Worlds, Destroyer of the Space Nomads, Courageous in Battle, Commander of the hagazzi, Eagle One, Discoverer of Worlds, and many others. No one has yet defeated her, nor her family before her. In personal combat, she herself killed many enemies. You have seen the mayhem she wreaked upon the prison.” The bigboy leaned closer to Borrelia, and said, his deep voice shaking the being, “That what she destroyed here is gone, forget it. Be thankful that is all that was done to those who mistreated her. Indeed, she held her wrath in check, in consideration of your ignorance, and your primitive status. Next time, should you ever trifle with her, you may expect much worse. Much, much, worse.” He stood up and back. “My kind, with weapons more terrible than anything ever seen or used on this planet, vowed long ago never to do battle with this person. We will fight with her, along side her, and for her. Never against her.” He leaned forward again. “You would do well to do the same.”
Borrelia s
aid nothing, just stared at the bigboy.
The bigboy leaned forward again and raised his hand, causing Borrelia to flinch back. Slowly drawing two fingers together, until they were a bare millimeter apart, the bigboy said, “Know this, too, you were this far from being annihilated, had you injured the Sky Lady further, or killed her.” He dropped a hand. “The rest of us would be laying your part of this planet to waste, were you to try to do that again. Your T’ming would find himself ruler of desolation if he had survived. Beware, our honor is not limitless.”
The bigboy easily lifted the thick booklet from the table, handed it back to Borrelia, who nearly dropped it. “Go,” the bigboy said, pointing out the tent, and back toward the lighter. Borrelia turned, and slowly walked away, trailed by the rest of his delegation.
Lori and the others from her own party returned to the mess tent, and over a multi-course luncheon, discussed face to face what to do next. As on the ships, the suggestions varied from full scale bombardment, to patience and conciliation. As stewards served coffee, Lori said, “We will give them a chance to redeem themselves, at least in this province. I want to see if they get my stuff back. I miss my jewelry, if nothing else. If they do that, well, maybe I can try again. Now, what about the other provinces–anything different there?”
She knew already, of course, from the varied reports from the explorers from the other ships. Nearly every part of this world, as in so many of the others, was settled by natives, in great disparity as to lifestyles and comfort levels. Some places teemed with life, others were so scantily populated, air cars flew for hours between tiny settlements.
And what to trade for? The perennial question, with varied answers from the several races: jewelry, raw and polished gemstones, finely worked household items, especially of china, silver, or gold, other works of art, of wood, stone, metal, or cast materials. Fine wines, and distinctive and varied liquor, all of that plentiful. Interesting spices, with unique flavors. Some wall art, or hangings. Carpets. Weapons. Books. Tribal ceremonial items. Children’s toys. Old things–antiques. Even some raw ores.
“You would ship ore a hundred thousand light years?” the illi-illi asked the bigboys, who mentioned that last item.
“If rich enough. And some is. Yes, we might.”
Few others would. Everyone else wanted unique things to display, to show as a representation of their wealth, status, and position, something from far, far away. Those items, of everything on the planet, were of value in all the known worlds.
“Sky Lady,” a Kobi said, seeming to speak for the group, “There is enough here for us to pursue, at least one more time. We wish to do so. This province is the leader of the planet, or so they claim. We need to give them a chance to prove themselves. Will you grant us that chance?”
Lori said, “Is that what you want to do?”
“It is.”
“OK, let me confer with all the captains, and see what they think. I will call them as soon as I return. And consider what might be done, in honor and in safety.”
Lori stood, and walked outside. With a long look at the verdant, rolling land around her, and a breath of the crisp air, she returned to Eagle One, and flew back up to her ship.
The starship captains were unanimous, including Captain George, in the desire to return to the surface. The UN aides strongly supported it. Only the military, on each starship, withheld their support. Lori noticed that, and asked Morales his opinion.
“The aliens hereabouts have proven their untrustworthiness before, and I suggest we approach them with all caution, with a strong escort, and be prepared for immediate evacuation should it be necessary, and let them prove their intentions before we do anything else.” His face, steady in the monitor, said, “And nobody goes down there alone.”
The other military and security people agreed, in fact the bigboys said that military only should go to the surface for now, armed to the hind legs, with fighting air cars on standby nearby. Lori liked that idea, and was about to support it, when she was cut off.
The UN aides were suitably outraged, claiming it showed a lack of faith, a mistrust, and sent the wrong message, that being we were afraid of the natives, and acted in a dishonorable fashion. They thought the natives had learned their lesson, hadn’t the hell-burners done enough, and they’d be better behaved the next time. Their language rankled the bigboys, and others, too, and they said nothing in return. Lori noticed their skillful use of buzzwords guaranteed to put the others on the defensive, but the words were out there, and she couldn’t get them back.
But she could agree in another way, and she said, “I would support sending a diplomatic team down first, with a strong military escort, and if well and peacefully received, then a trading team next. Will the UN be willing to be with the first group?”
The hoot from the bigboys let her know she’d won their admiration. The UN people simply nodded, and said, “Yes, of course.”
“Very well, but you will have a military escort. Captain George, looks like our people will go along, to try again in T’ming’s province. Meanwhile, what of the rest of this planet? Any progress in establishing a dialogue?”
There, at least, discussions went much better, but everyone reported a hesitancy on the part of the world to do anything much, without T’ming’s approval. He seemed to hold far more control over the entire planet than anyone imagined previously. Trade negotiations in particular went slowly.
With the meeting winding down, the Pokoniry asked, “When might we start?”
“Do so now, whenever you are ready, in this province. I’ll give them time to make amends with me, personally. Meanwhile, feel free to try to open a dialogue, if you wish.”
The Pokoniry nodded, in thanks. “We will make the attempt at once.”
Later, she conferred privately with Morales and the other military. They remained adamant that the natives were not to be trusted, and she agreed. “Everyone is entitled to two chances–a first chance, and a last chance. The natives with this T’ming are on their last chance. Let’s at least see what they do.”
She heard the bigboys muttering, “We know what they’ll do. And someone will pay for it.”
The UN delegates left with the others, a well armed escort, and returned unscathed. “The meeting was brief. No problem, we seem to have a meeting of the minds, they understand violence gets nothing, and they are now anxious to begin trade negotiations,” they reported to her. “ The natives especially want our technology, notably the ‘floaters,’ as they call the air cars.”
“Perhaps later,” the Pokoniry said, guardedly.
“They will talk of other matters, we said to start small, and build on that.”
“You have a meeting place, a time?” the Pokoniry said again. “We are willing to be the first, since we look most like them. Perhaps that will ease things in the beginning.”
The arrangements already made, for a small industrial town some distance west of the one in which Lori found herself not too many days ago. The Pokoniry trader arranged for a lighter, with a sampling of some of what they hoped would be of interest to the natives, advanced tech, but not too much. They brought along two Kobi assistants, and prepared to depart in a few hours. Lori wished them luck.
In the meanwhile, others would fan out across the globe, landing here and there, where possible, to explore the reception, but ready to depart on a moment’s notice. Reports began coming in almost immediately. In most places, their arrival, at least of the Pokoniry and bigboys, was greeted with interest, if guarded suspicion. For the illi-illi, human, Kobi, and Anawoka, the reaction was more often fear, or hostility. Mixed groups worked best.
The natives were used to seeing flying devices, though none silent and slow moving. The air cars interested them immensely, nearly everyone sought to trade or buy one, as soon as a comfort level was reached with the aliens.
Looking at the several messages, Lori said, “Now if only we can get the same reaction down in T’ming’s place, we’ll be in business.
”
Chapter 19 - Retrieval
“Lori, you’d better see this,” a communication officer said, visibly upset, as he swung a flat screen monitor in front of her.
Lori stopped working on the schedule on her own machine, nodding to everyone in conference with her, and looked at the screen. She sucked in her breath, and said, “What...?”
“This is real time. Just happened. They jumped two of the reps, lured them inside a building, and killed them before we could do anything. And now there’s too many of them.”
“Oh, man,” Lori said. “Where are the others?”
“Just escaping, barely, with their lives. There was a hell of a fight, they had to use their guns, and the lighter got to them just in time, nearly got caught up in the mob, too. Looks like they wanted the lighter in the worst way, really stormed that. Then the lighter had to fight off a couple of fighters, but outran them easily.”
“So it was planned?”
“Appears to be.”
“Reports are several are pretty well beat up. But they’re out, getting away. Couldn’t do anything for the others. They’re still there, on the surface.”
“How many, two?”
“Yes. A Kobi and a Pokoniry.”
“We know they’re dead?”
“Yeah, look at this. Finally got a cambot overhead.”
On the screen, a screaming, yelling crowd of natives were dragging something through the dusty streets of a town. The objects left a dark trail on the ground, immediately obscured by the feet of many shouting natives who followed. The cambot zoomed in, and showed the object to be a body–two bodies, one behind the other. A Kobi, and a Pokoniry. Dead and bleeding. At least Lori hoped they were dead, from the bouncing and beatings they were taking along the way.
T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6) Page 34
