Dirge (28 page)

“Welcome aboard.” Stepping forward, the admiral introduced himself and the field marshal before extending a hand palm down, fingers slightly spread and inclined upward. The elderly alien’s antennae dipped forward to brush his fingertips.

“I am the Di-Eint Haajujurprox. From the Great Hive I bring you greetings and the taste of friendship.”

“We are pleased to receive you.” A delighted Yirghiz waved off the translator who was standing by, a young woman who was plainly relieved that her skills apparently would not be necessary. The bug’s Terranglo was mellifluous and only slightly inflected. The insectoids had a much easier time with the simpler human tongue than humans did with the complex combination of words, clicks, whistles, and gestures that constituted High Thranx.

Alongside him, he observed MacCunn striving to appear inconspicuous as he inhaled repeatedly of the air in the lock. In the vicinity of the three thranx it had become suffused with the aromatic essence of a complex perfume. In respect of scent, age had not dimmed the emissary’s personal bouquet.

“Won’t you please walk with us?” Turning, Yirghiz led the way.

As they strolled toward the lift that would take them to a comfortable and private room he noted that unlike the images of thranx he had seen, the emissary never rose up on her four trulegs. She required the use of all six to ambulate adequately. Though wondering how old, in human terms, the visitor might be, he was too polite to ask. Among the thranx such a question might be regarded as normal and natural, or it might be considered intrusive. He did not know. Regardless, it had nothing to do with conventional diplomacy. But he was still curious.

They made small talk until they arrived at the senior officer’s lounge. This was cleared, and the diplomatic party made itself comfortable. While the di-eint settled herself onto a makeshift couch of cushions placed end to end on the floor, her escorts remained standing. So did the four armed soldiers who had escorted MacCunn and Yirghiz. While their superiors conversed, the common soldiers eyed one another with unfettered interest.

“This is no place for a casual call,” MacCunn began without further preamble. “Your government is aware of the quarantine that we have placed around the inhabited worlds of this system, and the conflict that is ongoing here.” He started to cough and reached for a glass of water. When he had recovered sufficiently, he continued.

“We know that your ships are not simply ‘passing through.’ No one travels through space-plus without a definite destination in mind. So I think—we think—that it’s safe to assume you came here to speak with us.” He gestured absently, wishing he had Yirghiz’s command of alien gesticulation. “We have to ask, Why here, when all previous diplomatic contact has taken place between your representatives and ours on Earth or Hivehom?”

“It was decided,” the elderly di-eint replied evenly, “that since the matter to be discussed most directly involved the unfortunate situation here, it would be best to communicate directly with those of your kind who are most intimately involved.” Her antennae dipped sharply forward. Somewhat startled, MacCunn drew back slightly. Yirghiz did not move.

“You know that we are outraged at what the Pitar did to your colony of Treetrunk. As sentient beings, their actions there horrified every hive. Ever since, there has been much discussion among my kind as to whether it would be appropriate for us to make our displeasure known in a more proactive fashion.” Her finely shaped head continually shifted from one human to the other, even though the exceptional peripheral vision provided by her compound eyes meant that she could survey nearly the entire room without moving it at all. The cranial posturing was to assure the two senior humans that she was indeed focusing her attention on them.

Glancing in MacCunn’s direction, Yirghiz saw no enlightenment there. Perhaps the field marshal was preoccupied with his persistent bowel problems, the admiral mused. That was not the case. MacCunn simply had nothing to say and was content to let his colleague take the lead in composing their response. It did not mean he was not paying attention.

“Could you be more specific as to what you mean when you say ‘more proactive’?”

“I have come here on behalf of the Great Hive authorized to propose a formal military alliance between our peoples. We want to help you in your fight against these Pitar,” the di-eint stated.

This time MacCunn was quick to respond. “Why?” he asked curtly. “So you were outraged by what they did on Treetrunk. All intelligent species were outraged. Only you are offering to help. Outrage is by itself an insufficient reason for actively engaging in interstellar warfare.”

“Is it?” Many-lensed eyes shifted to face the field marshal. When he did not respond, the di-eint gestured acknowledgment. “Very well. It is as you say. There are other reasons. While a large faction finds the outrage sufficient for us to respond, they are not a majority. It was necessary to build an adequate consensus, corollary by corollary.” She shifted her awkward position on the queue of cushions.

“As you know, we have been locked in an ongoing battle with the Empire of the AAnn since before your kind encountered ours. The AAnn are a devious, ruthless, expansionist race.”

“We’ve had no trouble with the AAnn,” Yirghiz felt compelled to point out.

“The AAnn are also very patient. They are evaluating your resources.” The elderly alien leaned toward them. “They are especially interested in the present conflict. While they are too clever to aid the Pitar directly, they are delighted to watch them deplete your resources.”

MacCunn frowned. “Why should they care who wins? As you say, they are completely neutral.”

“On the face of it, they are. But the Pitar have nothing the AAnn want and pose no threat to their strategies. The Pitar are not colonizers. Humans are, very much so. As are the AAnn. As both spheres of influence continue to expand, they will inevitably begin to overlap. There will come a time when tenancy of a new world falls into dispute. If the Pitar succeed in severely weakening you, or are still tying down a large portion of your military strength, the AAnn will not hesitate to take advantage of the situation that results.”

The field marshal was nodding slowly. This was an explanation he had heard before and could understand. “So by helping us against the Pitar you hope to ensure that our strength is not diminished, and that it will be available as a counterweight to future AAnn expansion.”

She did not nod. Adoption of human gestures was a habitude for the young. But she did indicate her acknowledgment. “We also expect this alliance to operate in the opposite direction.”

“Of course you do.” As much was obvious to Yirghiz. “If your government is going to send its citizens to risk their lives on our behalf, it would be unreasonable not to expect the same from us. If the AAnn attack you, you’d want to be able to ask for our help.”

“It’ll never happen.” MacCunn was darkly assured. “The world council will never vote to send ships and personnel to help defend—” He started to say what was in his mind, and hastily substituted something else. “—your kind.”

With their fixed exoskeleton the thranx were incapable of smiling. Nor were the relevant inflections detectable even to the more linguistically adept Yirghiz. It did not matter. The di-eint’s response contained sufficient inherent sarcasm.

“Bugs, you mean.”

MacCunn replied calmly. “I didn’t say that.”

“You do not have to. It doesn’t matter.” The di-eint’s antennae dipped and bobbed. “My government is prepared to leave the question of what degree of response your kind would provide should such a confrontation arise for future discussion. Our overriding concern is to assist you now.”

“Before the Pitar can weaken us to the point where we might be unable to effectively resist the incursions of the AAnn.”

“You may draw your own conclusions. The important thing is that you accept. And there is another reason.”

Yirghiz was growing impatient to return to the bridge. “What else?”

“We happen to like you. Not all of my kind feel thusly, but a great many do. We do not like the Pitar. Not after what they have done, showing neither remorse nor repentance. But for an accident of biology it might have been a thranx world they despoiled. On a more informal level, I am compelled to say that
I
like you.”

Yirghiz’s instinct was to reply in kind, but he found he could not. However convivial it might be, the creature seated opposite him was still simply too…buggy. That was not a rational, scientific response, he knew, but he could not help it. Like so many he knew, he remained a prisoner of his racial history, of memories of thousands of years of competing with far smaller distant cousins of the thranx for food, for space, for very existence.

That would not prevent him, however, from accepting their help.

“It’s not within my purview to agree to so momentous a proposition.” He gestured in the field marshal’s direction. “No one on this ship or in the armada has that power. Believe me, I personally would be glad to accept all and any additional assistance, regardless of its origin.”

“Because you are going nowhere here,” Haajujurprox told him.

MacCunn bridled. “We are making progress. With each engagement the Pitar lose ships and fighters. We’re wearing them down.”

“And they are wearing you down. We are quite capable of monitoring human opinion. In a war of attrition conducted in the vastness of interstellar space, it is the well-emplaced defenders who usually win. With the forces at your command you cannot break through their defenses.”

“Our land-based production plants and orbital assembly facilities are turning out newer and better ships and weapons.” The field marshal’s voice was tight.

“As are the Pitar, who have the advantage of bringing them to bear sooner and more easily than you can. It is not unreasonable to imagine that they might succeed in out-producing you. They have the resources of two planets as highly developed as Earth operating in close proximity to one another, whereas your subsidiary colony worlds are widely scattered. The raw resources of not one but two extensive asteroid belts are theirs to draw upon. Your position here becomes less, not more, tenable over time.”

MacCunn swallowed hard. “Denigrating the efforts of the people you propose to help strikes me as a peculiar way to initiate an alliance.”

“Truth is not denigration,” the elderly thranx countered. “Mathematics is not prejudiced and does not take sides.” Glancing down, she consulted a delicate device strapped to the forepart of one truhand. “By this time your world council should have reached a decision on our offer. Our arrival here, you see, was timed to coincide with the very secret debate that has been taking place within your government for several of your weeks.”

MacCunn and Yirghiz exchanged a startled glance. The look was sufficient between friends to convey the awareness that neither man knew something relevant that he had neglected to tell the other.

As if choreographed, both senior officers’ private readers vibrated for attention. Removing the instruments, the two men read in silence. Despite herself, Haajujurprox was impatient to receive more than visual reactions from the humans.

Sighing heavily, Yirghiz slipped his recorder back into its holster. “The actual communication was received before you set foot on this ship. It took the time we have spent talking to decode, recheck, and decode the recheck. If your skills in battle are as precise as the timing of your diplomacy, your help will be most welcome indeed.”

The di-eint interpreted this promptly. “Then your government is agreed?”

MacCunn nodded briskly. “Any help you want to give us is hereby accepted. Details of a full alliance will continue to be discussed and debated. But in the interim, if you should happen to extirpate a Pitarian warship or two, the people of Earth and its colonies will be pleased not to look too deeply into questions of your motivation.”

“Excellent.” Haajujurprox started to rise, began to tremble, and slumped back toward the cushions. Her twin escorts rushed to assist the elderly di-eint.

Without realizing it, Yirghiz had started to do the same. It had been an instinctive gesture. Now he stood more slowly, watching as the two younger thranx assisted their elder in rising. One helped to support her while the other carefully removed the line of cushions from beneath the aged abdomen so that she would not have to step awkwardly over them.

Why had he started to go to her aid? The admiral found himself caught in a welter of unexpected emotions. Intelligent beyond doubt she was, but the emissary was still virtually a giant bug. He didn’t like bugs. But he found that he was very much starting to like this one.

Not a bug, he told himself firmly. It’s only the shape. Ignore the shape—or learn to see it differently.

MacCunn was speaking softly in his usual, clipped, formal tones. “We will work with the commanders of your vessels to include them in our general battle schematics. We certainly don’t expect them to lead any thrusts, but their status as active reserves will be most welcome.”

The di-eint rotated her head to a greater extreme than any human could manage in order to look back at the senior officer. “Don’t you trust us, Field Marshal MacCunn? Or do you need to first see dead thranx bodies floating in space to be convinced of our earnestness in this matter?” When he started to reply, she raised a hand to forestall him. Yirghiz was quietly amazed to see him comply.

“No, do not try to explain yourself. Though I have not experienced them personally, I am well aware of human feelings toward my kind. You cannot help it. In this and many other ways you are still prisoners of your primitive past. Given time and effort, we hope to be able to effect changes in that.”

Yirghiz stepped into the uncomfortable breach. “Blowing a few Pitarian warships out of existence would be an excellent way to begin.”

Haajujurprox gesticulated acknowledgment, not pausing to wonder if any of the humans in the room understood the meaning of the gesture.

Flanking their superiors, the two thranx and four human soldiers formed up an escort. The meeting concluded, they found themselves eying each other very differently than they had been when it had first commenced. The thranx studied the flexible, flowing movements of their bipedal counterparts with bemused curiosity, while the human soldiers could not keep themselves from inhaling deeply and repeatedly. Of such small exchanges are great events fashioned.