7
It was a part of Daret she had never seen before, that no human had seen before, and it was spectacular. Accustomed to the crowded warrens of the capital hive, the last thing Anjou had expected to find was open space underground.
She felt as if she were walking in a park lifted from some elegant imperial past on Earth. To be sure, the scattered furnishings and artwork were utterly alien, and the botanical decor was unfamiliar; but the sense of luxury and good taste was apparent everywhere, even to a visiting human. Small waterfalls cascaded down slopes that had been sculpted from the raw rock out of which the high-domed chamber had been hollowed, their flow vanishing into the myriad conduits that were the lifeblood of the hive. The arching ceiling glowed with yellow-and-blue light supplied not by artificial lights but by hundreds of transplanted fungi. Mist swirled gracefully, only to be caught and borne away by concealed fans to be recycled through hidden ducts.
A smallmyrk peeped out from beneath spatulate, blue-veined leaves. Crouching, Fanielle extended a hand, and the palm-sized creature crept hesitantly over to her, ambulating on four legs nearly hidden by its dense coat of black-and-blue fur. It had the huge eyes and sensitive nostrils of an animal accustomed to living underground. As it sniffed cautiously of her open hand and then moved close so she could scratch it, she reflected that these were the kinds of furred creatures the thranx were used to dealing with: tiny, harmless, mewling things that had shared their hives and tunnels for millennia. It cooed delightedly and pressed up against her caressing fingertips.
In another part of the Arm, the tiny balls of fluff had stood up, shed most of their fur, and achieved a level of technology equal to that of any other space-traversing species. This was difficult for many thranx to accept. One shooed furry creatures out of the way, or paused to observe their strange behavior. One did not converse with or enter into treaties with them. One especially did not sign agreements that could be construed as even a partial surrendering of sovereignty.
Yet that was the ultimate end to which Anjou and those of like mind within the diplomatic corps strove. It was proving an uphill battle on both sides, against superstition, fear, prejudice, uncertainty, and inertia. She thought of Jeremy and imagined him waiting for her back in Azerick. Jeremy, with his quiet, confident smile and the way his face would light up at the news that another new kind of spore had been discovered. Jeremy, with his enveloping, comforting arms, and soft lips. Jeremy, with . . .
Jeremy was no more, and there was to be no more of him. She shuddered violently, uncontrollably, and angrily shoved the back of a hand against her moistening right eye.
“Are you feeling unwell,crr!!kk ?”
Whirling, she found herself gazing into the face of the oldest thranx she had ever seen. Even the venerable female’s ovipositors had turned a dark purple. Her chitin was the color of raw amethyst, the glow of her great golden compound eyes was significantly dimmed, and her antennae hung forward in limp arcs. At least two trulegs gleamed more brightly than their counterparts, showing that they had undergone forced regeneration, and one truhand was purple composite, suggestive of injury so severe it could not be regrown and had been replaced with a prosthesis. But the voice, though muted, was strong, and the concern it reflected genuine.
“I’m all right, thanks.” Though she stood straighter, she still found herself at eye level with the sage. Most humans towered over the arthropods: not Fanielle. Whether they appreciated having a diplomat to deal with who came down to their level physically she did not know. Haflunormet had never commented on her height.
“You are the attaché who sought this appointment, are you not?” The valentine-shaped head cocked slightly to one side.
“I am Fanielle Anjou, yes. You are Eint Carwenduved?” A simple gesture on the part of the elderly thranx was confirmation enough. “I very badly want to talk to you about—”
The venerable eint interrupted, pointing with the artificial truhand. “Let us go and sit by theprolerea , and listen to the music of the waters singing. We can talk there.”
The thranx moved slowly and with deliberation, picking her steps as if each one might be her last. She did not appear to be that feeble, Anjou reflected. Ancient, to be sure, but still capable of flexibility and movement. The human hoped her host’s mind had the same capacity.
They paused at a little alcove close by one of the many small waterfalls. This one tumbled and tinkled over a succession of metal leaves, each droplet generating a musical tone. Looming above was a bush with a thick trunk that threw out great splays of bright pink-and-black flowers. The fragrance from so many blossoms reeking of cinnamon and honey was almost overpowering.
Reaching up, the eint plucked one and pressed it to her face. Anjou could see the multiple mouthparts working as the thranx devoured the center of the bloom. When it was half consumed, she extended the remainder to Anjou.
“I am told that your people can safely ingest this. Would you care to try it?”
Anjou did not, but diplomats are often called upon to extend themselves in peculiar ways on behalf of their profession. Accepting the remnant, she saw several centimeter-long structures protruding from its underside. Plucking one, she showed it to the thranx, who gestured encouragingly. Popping the alien pistil into her mouth, she bit down tentatively.
Flavor and a sugary sensation exploded across her suspicious taste buds. The pulp was so sweet it almost hurt her teeth. As she passed the blossom back, she needed no encouragement to finish what she had been given. It was superb.
“Very nutritious.” Finishing off the remaining pistils, the eint set the bloom casually aside. In a subterranean garden as immaculate and ornate as this, Anjou doubted the debris would remain unattended to for very long.
“About the proposed treaty details,” she began, the lingering sweetness still effervescing throughout the inside of her mouth, “have you had time to scrutinize the details?”
“Sssllcci,I have done little else these past major time-parts.” Reaching out with a longer foothand, the eint put four hard-shelled fingers against the human’s belly. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to give live birth. I am told it is painful, and can well imagine it.”
“It’s not comfortable.” Anjou was not pleased by the rapid change of subject, but did not try to force the conversation. “In ancient times, I’m told it was often fatal.”
The eint gestured restrained disbelief. “Eggs are better. They do not kick. Now then, about this treaty of yours. It’s very substantial. Mere translation took a goodly amount of time.”
“A treaty is not a poem,” Anjou admitted. “Nothing must be left open to misinterpretation.”
“I assure you it was not. The entire series of documents was vetted most thoroughly.”
“I know that you are in a position to make real decisions.” Anjou leaned forward, trying to suppress her excitement. “That you can recommend directly to the Grand Council. What do you think of the proposals?”
The distinguished female caressed a blossom bud with tru- and foothand, bending the petals back ever so gently. “I love these flowers. I love the look of them, and the smell, and especially the taste.” Dimmed but far from dead eyes regarded the watching human. “If you bring the plant into your sleeping chamber, it fills it with perfume—but only for a few days. Then it withers and dies. I would hate to see the very good relationship that presently exists between our species perish from too much contiguity.”
Anjou was not put off. “That won’t happen.”
“Is that so?” The distinguished female set the barren bloom aside. “So in addition to giving birth to this document, you can also predict the future?”
“No, no, of course not. I’m just saying that safeguards will be put in place to ensure that we don’t intrude on each other. Close friends don’t have to live together under the same roof.”
Antennae bobbed and dipped. “That is what the council will say. I can tell you right now what the response will be if I propose your treaties for ratification. I don’t have to tell you, of course, but I rather like you, Fanielle Anjou. And not simply because you are eggfull.” A truhand reached out to stroke the woman’s forearm. The superannuated chitin was still smooth and cool to the touch.
“You obviously believe deeply in these proposals on a personal as well as a professional level.”
“I am not alone,” she responded. “There are many who believe as strongly in the interdependent future of our two species as do I.”
“And it is not to be denied that there are those in the hives who feel similarly, and who are not hesitant to express themselves in the strongest terms.” The matriarch’s essence filled the air, stronger even than the surrounding, lovingly tended flowers. “But they are not a majority. Nor are those who angrily oppose any contact with your kind beyond that which is absolutely necessary. The bulk of the Greater Hive remains undecided. The words in your proposal are reassuring, and well thought out, but they are not wholly convincing. Furthermore, they are only words.” Reaching back, she removed a small tube from the embroidered pack on her thorax and sniffed deeply of one end by holding it flush against first one set of breathing spicules, then the other.
“We have to start with words.” Anjou shifted her seat. “When we have agreed on certain words, then relevant deeds can be implemented. But treaties must come before action.” Am I getting through to this ancient? she wondered. What was the eint thinking? Unlike face-to-face negotiations with another human, there was no way to tell from simply looking at the eint what was going through her mind. The chitinous countenance was inflexible.
“You speak well for your proposals, you and those who side with you. As for myself, I belong to that great, surging, heaving mass of egg-layers and tenders that has not yet made up its mind.” A truhand wagged in Anjou’s direction, and she did not need a visual guide to interpret its significance. “Push us too hard, young female, and we will wall up our tunnels away from you. You will not be able to reach us.”
Anjou struggled to remain confident. It wasn’t easy; the eint was offering little in the way of encouragement. “Then as they are written, you disagree with the basic tenets of the covenants?”
“I did not say that.” Plucking a smaller, darker branch from the nearby foliage, the eint munched contentedly on azure petals. Her mouthparts made fastidious grinding noises as they masticated the succulent herbage. “What I think, what the majority of those I represent and those I deal with daily in council think, is that your kind and mine have a perfectly good relationship right now. There is no need to extend it further, except insofar as concerns the AAnn.”
Anjou watched something small and metallic flit through the surrounding undergrowth. “We have no quarrel with the AAnn. Therefore we can’t promise you any more assistance as regards them than what already exists. If they were to make some kind of serious frontal attack on a thranx world, that would be different. We would be bound, even in the absence of a formal military treaty, to render aid because of the help you gave us during the Pitarian War.”
“Would you, my dear?” Carwenduved studied the human closely, wishing she understood the meaning of those remarkable twists and contortions that flowed through the biped’s flexible epidermis. “There is no formal reciprocation. You are not obligated to assist us, just as we were not obligated to help you against the Pitar. There is no treaty, no pact that requires you to provide such military assistance. We helped you against the Pitar because we thought it was the right thing to do. In the event we are assaulted by the AAnn, will your people believe similarly?”
Diplomat though she was, it was too big a lie for Anjou to countenance. Besides, the eint probably knew in detail whereof she spoke. “I can’t answer that, Carwenduved. It would depend on the circumstances. I can tell you that humans have always stood up against injustice, no matter where it has occurred.”
“That is good to know. Is it so even among those of you who refer to us as ‘bugs,’ and would like to squash us underfoot like our tiny namesakes that occupy your worlds?”
“Shapeism is conspicuous among the thranx as well as among my people. It is a primitive animosity that will eventually die out.”
“As it must also among my kind.” The eint sighed, her b-thorax expanding and contracting sharply. “But for now, it exists, and must be dealt with.” She stirred on her bench. “Although I admit there are those on the council who would like to forge a tighter relationship with your kind, they are outnumbered by the many who believe that the present situation is perfectly satisfactory. They see no need to dig the two burrows closer together. You have your worlds; we have ours. While we can share the same environments, we have different preferences. We like hot, humid worlds with a higher oxygen content than yourselves. From our point of view, you like to live in dry, cold places where no thranx would be comfortable for very long, and where depending on the relevant extremes we need special equipment to survive. There is no direct competition. Therefore, there is no need to modify the formalities that presently exist between us. The galaxy is a big place, and our explorations and exploitations need never overlap.”
Anjou could not hide her disappointment. She had worked so hard to secure this meeting, and except for some casual, albeit friendly, chitchat, it was going nowhere. The eint was polite, but firm. “It could be so much more. The way our species worked together during the Pitarian War showed that.”
“More than what,yrriik ? What more could we wish for than what we already have? Trade proceeds as trade always does, according to the benefits that accrue to those participating. There is mutual respect, and even a certain degree of sometimes grudging mutual admiration for each other’s unique qualities. There is even beginning to be appreciation on a deeper level, as witness occasional events like this intercultural fair on your new colony world of Pawn.”
“ ‘Dawn,’ “ Anjou politely corrected her. “But it’s not the same. It’s not what it could be.” Held in check since she had arrived, excitement finally overcame her professional equivocation. “We’ve never encountered anyone like the thranx. Physically, socially, you’re completely different from us. Yet we enjoy so many of the same things. Not only art, but even humor. I don’t know anyone who has spent time among you who has not made a permanent friendship or two.”
She was waving her arms about now. Instead of alarming the elderly eint, it relaxed the alien. Speaking frequently as they did with their four arms, it was a pleasure for a thranx to see a human similarly utilizing her limbs. Carwenduved studied the movements with interest, wondering at the meaning of each individual gesture. She would have been disappointed to learn that nearly all served only to emphasize and did not carry specific meanings of their own.
“Friendship is a fine thing,” the eint declared when Anjou finally ran down. “But you speak as one who has spent more time among us than most of your kind. Others are not so sanguine. What is to say that a closer, tighter association might not harm rather than help relations between our kinds? In the absence of proof, continued caution would seem to be the best course.”
Here, at least, was a line of objection Anjou had anticipated and prepared for. “There are the outposts here, at Azerick, and in the Amazon Basin on Earth. In both places, humans and thranx have developed a working relationship that goes beyond the formal. Everyone gets along. There have been just one or two reported incidents of violent conflict between settlers, scientists, and locals. The more time our people spend in one another’s company, the closer grows the bond between them. We have seen this happen over and over again. There is occasionally some mutual distaste involving appearance, but this soon passes as everyone gets to know everyone else.” She nodded at the eint. “Your own reports, I am sure, show similar maturation.”
“No one disputes that our species can get along, or that individuals can become fond of one another.” Reaching out with a foothand, she ran the two center fingers down Anjou’s arm. “Iam growing fond ofyou . Your persistence gains you merit. And I must confess that I myself . . .” She looked away—or at least, Anjou thought that she did. With those compound eyes, it was hard to tell. “I am inclined to think that the proposals you set forth in these documents should be given serious consideration.”
Anjou contained herself. Out of the cool, calm resistance of the conversation had come the first glimmer of hope. “It would be,” she replied with as much gravity as her small voice could muster, “the greatest thing to happen to our two species since each of us independently detected the presence of intelligent life beyond our respective homeworlds. Think of it! An alliance between two different intelligences that for the first time in this part of the galaxy advanced beyond the usual agreements on trade and culture. Thranx would be able to visit any human world they wished, at any time. Humans would gain reciprocity of movement with the Greater Hive. We would share government, thus reducing many large expenses. And no potentially antagonistic species would dare to threaten so powerful a regional alliance. You would be safe forever from possible depredations on the part of the AAnn.”
“Don’t underestimate the determination and capability of the AAnn.” The eint gestured first-degree vigilance. “They are afraid of nothing. Cautious, yes. Deliberate and calculating, yes. But afraid, no. You are right, of course. Such an all-encompassing alliance would give them considerable pause, and would therefore be to our great advantage. But it goes beyond the military commitment the Great Hive seeks.”
Anjou sat back. “I don’t see you ever acquiring the one without the other.” It was time for bluntness, no matter how unpleasant. “Despite what I said earlier, I personally don’t see the great mass of humankind going to war to save the thranx. To save a human-thranx society, or humanx as some of us have taken to calling it, that would happen without debate.”
“And I don’t see the council moving in the direction of sharing government and dissolving at one dig all the usual barriers that stand between us.”
Anjou wished there was another representative she could caucus with, someone else she could turn to for advice on how to proceed. But there was not. She was alone. The eint had agreed to see her, and only her, because of the Bryn’ja. There were at present no other diplomats serving at Azerick who happened to be pregnant.
“Will you at least present the formal proposal to the other members of the council?”
“They have much to occupy their time, and are very busy. Not only are they responsible for the stable operation of government here on Hivehom; they must consider progress and development on our own colony worlds.”
“And wouldn’t those functions be easier if they could be shared?”
The eint whistled quiet amusement. “You are righteously dedicated in this matter, I see.”
“I, and those who think like me, dearly desire what we believe to be best for both our peoples.”
“Well, the Pitarian War certainly gave a boost to your aspirations. There are those among the thranx who would sign such a treaty tomorrow. Unfortunately, they do not lie in council. But yes, I will present the relevant documents for consideration.”
Anjou’s heart leaped. It was not everything she had hoped for, but it was realistically as much as she could have expected from the visit.
“And now, enough of interstellar diplomacy, of debating the fate of worlds.” Rising from her supportive bench, the rickety eint clasped Anjou’s right hand in a foothand. “Such softness! One cannot only feel the warmth, but see blood vessels beneath the skin. I marvel that it does not tear as easily as a leaf.”
Anjou let her hand lie freely in the hard chitinous grasp. It was like holding hands with a crab. “Amazing stuff, human skin. I’m afraid we don’t take care of it the way we should.”
“Yet if torn, it bleeds more slowly than do we.” Antennae dipped forward, stroking the human’s exposed arm. “And this business of exuding salt water through your epidermal layer. Most bizarre.”
“No less strange than breathing through one’s neck,” Anjou responded. “Or employing a set of limbs alternately as hands or feet. Or smelling through feathers that stick out of one’s head.”
“You speak querulously of normal things.” Tugging gently, the eint drew Anjou away from the bower where they had been talking to lead her down another garden path. “Not being a biologist, I take it you have never seen a nursery, or visited a pupation station.”
“No,” Anjou admitted. At the eint’s words, images swam in her mind of glistening larvae and newly matured adult thranx bursting forth from swollen body cases.
“Srr!!lpp,if you’re going to speak of merging our civilizations, our cultures, you need to know more than what they show you at formal briefings.” The two fingers and two thumbs that had been holding Anjou’s hand moved around to her lower back and pressed, urging her forward.
“You will come with me now, Fanielle Anjou. It’s time you met the kids.”