Undaunted

7

^“The ship will go to zero gee. Now,” told Kris her wait was about over. She held herself steady on the inside of the docking bay while noises on the outside told her connections were being made. Given a choice, Kris would have been out there doing something useful rather than in here waiting, waiting, waiting.

Her first hint that the Wasp and the Iteeche were hooked was a sudden influx of moist air, smelling of salt. Five minutes later, an Iteeche ducked his head in the bay, looked around, then backed out. The Iteeche was in a space suit, or battle armor; it wasn’t easy with a human to tell the two apart. Add in an extra ration of arms and legs, and it only got worse.

“Well, we’ve been scouted,” Penny said. “Won’t be long.”

Kris hung like a spider in a web of social constraints. Her feet were looped into the net restraints that held her retinue in place around her. She wondered how the boffins were taking to the general rearrangement. Under normal acceleration or pierside conditions, they would have stood on the floor. Now, in zero gee, the netting helped them stay fairly close to the floor, facing the dark maw of the open air lock and the tunnel beyond.

One of the boffins grabbed for her mouth and weakly pushed herself off, heading for the exit above. A Marine added an extra push. A sailor at the hatch caught her and got her outside. Only then did the sounds of explosive sickness come. Sadly for Kris, it wasn’t de Alva.

“Stand by to render honors,” drew Kris back to face the air lock. Six side boys, half of them side girls, stood by, with a bosun ready to pipe the Iteeche aboard. The chief bosun had a straight view up the docking tunnel.

When he announced “Stand by,” showtime wasn’t far off.

Two Iteeche, fully seven feet tall, sailed through the hatch in perfect formation. Their uniforms were black as midnight. The poles they held before them were topped by wicked-looking hacking blades and streamers of every color of the rainbow, many with two or three colors in clashing combination. The two expertly caught themselves on the lines strung across the docking bay, changed directions, and came to rest at stiff attention, one to the right of Kris, the other to the left, a good four meters in front of Abby and Cara, who, with the exception of the side crew, were the closest humans to the hatch. The two black-clad Iteeche left plenty of space between them for more.

One spoke softly into a mic at its throat.

I CANNOT say EXACTLY WHAT The ITEECHE REPORTED, Nelly said, BUT I Think IT WENT SOMETHING like “The aniMals are FRIGHTENED BUT QUIET.” I COULD Be WRONG.

Kris doubted that.

For a long minute, nothing happened. Kris studied the two Iteeche in black. There were huge holes in human knowledge about the Iteeche, their language, culture, and government. Humans knew quite a bit about their anatomy; they’d dissected plenty of dead bodies. Their four legs were all the same, the rear ones were not specialized like, say, those of horses. Each leg folded in two places; the top and bottom bones went one way, the middle one the other. This allowed them to fold their long legs into a very small space. The arms had two elbows. Engineers marveled at how their shoulder allowed all four arms to swivel forward or back. The head was larger than a human’s. They breathed and spoke through a vestigial beak that once might have looked like a hawk’s but now was softer and more flexible, if no less frightening.

Their long necks could swivel most of the way around and showed eight strips that might once have been gill slits but now changed color in interesting ways. The four eyes gave a panoramic view, and the rear ones could rotate separately from the central front pair. The Iteeche were built for situational awareness . . . and could quickly respond in almost any direction.

“You don’t go hand to hand with an Iteeche and live to tell the story,” Grampa Trouble had explained to Kris. “You shoot the bastards from a safe distance, then do a dead check to make sure they’re sincerely dead. Don’t count an Iteeche dead unless you can see their brains splattered around them.”

It had been an ugly war.

Dear God, don’t let me screw up and start that up again, Kris thought, wondering if she was finally learning to pray like Tommy had said she should.

Finally, four more Iteeche came through the hatch, watching their steps with care and making good use of the netting. They took station in line just inside the first two; their uniforms were crimson red. Their only decorations were black starbursts as collar tabs. They held long objects that Kris immediately recognized as their equivalent of rifles.

Kris thought, Marines, before Nelly confirmed it.

Two more in gray-and-gold uniforms crossed the hatch to join the line forming across from Kris. The color alone had Kris thinking, Army, before Nelly told her, NAVY officers.

Good lesson in not jumping to conclusions.

The space directly across from Kris was getting narrow; the big kahuna had to be along soon. The bosun raised pipe to lips and whistled the ancient notes.

Two Iteeche led a final Iteeche aboard. The lead two wore dark green and white. The last looked like a circus horse draped in every color available and then some. Sections of his dress seemed to change color as light struck him. At his neck was a collar that exploded like a starburst. Kris had seen some spectacular shows in her life; this man set a new standard.

Suddenly, her dress whites didn’t seem all that fancy. She’d just have to impress this Ron fellow with her good looks and sharp intellect. Well, not-too-dumb intellect.

Kris tried to see herself the way this Iteeche did. Directly between them were Abby and Cara in their light green ball gowns. Flanking Kris was her military team, Penny, Jack, and Cortez in blues, reds, and black. Drago was in the fanciest uniform ever dreamed up by an opera costumer. Behind Kris, in a half circle, were the surviving boffins in their colorful finery.

For a full minute . . . Kris had Nelly time it . . . both sides just stared at each other. It went well past awkward, but Kris held her silent ground. He asked for a meeting. He could damn well start the talking.

Finally, Ron-whatever-he-called-himself cleared his throat and exchanged the quickest of glances with one of the somber green-and-white fellows. Kris would bet money that someone had just lost a bet.

He raised his two inner hands, palms out, and began to speak. “I come in peace to all mankind,” was halting, and it rasped a bit hard from his beaked mouth, but he said it in English.

“It would be easier to buy if they hadn’t shot our pod,” the colonel whispered.

“We’ll cover that later,” Kris whispered. Nelly, how Do I say “I GREET you in peace” in ETEECHE,

No way, Kris, EVEN if you PRACTICED A MONTH. JUST say The ENGLISH. MAYBE he’ll UNDNRSTAND you.

Kris said it. Nothing happened. The silence started to grow. Just before it became eligible to vote, the Iteeche tapped a machine at his chest.

It started saying things. In Iteeche.

Nelly?

I AM WORKING on IT, Nelly snapped. They Don’T follow our STRUCTURE SOME IMPORTANT WORDS are AT The END of The SENTENCE. ASSUMING They use SENTENCES

LET Me know when you can, Kris said, not at all happy to have her somewhat flaky computer calling the shots . . . again.

The Iteeche fell silent.

Nelly started speaking a second later. “He says, ‘I, Ron’sum’Pin’sum’We, etc., etc., chosen of the’—I think that means Imperial choosers—‘spawn of somebody equally important for a couple of generations, accept the presence of Princess Kristine Longknife, chosen and all that, spawn many times removed of Raymond of the Long-Reaching Knife, to share water, slaughter many little fish.’ That is what he said. It could mean something else. Then he goes on, ‘I am here to share words. If you do not strongly object’—and that literally means draw swords—‘I shall disturb your water with my words.’ ”

“Are you sure that’s what he said, Nelly?” Kris said.

“You’re welcome to try your hand at translating, honey,” Nelly said in full huff.

“Nelly is a woman’s name,” came in a machine voice from the chest of the multicolor Iteeche, Ron.

“Yes,” Kris said keeping it simple.

The Iteeche whispered something. “You name a machine?” his machine said.

One of the fellows in green and white turned back to the rainbow one and whispered something hurriedly. The other fellow lifted a finger off the machine and said something back just as fast.

Nelly, IT WOULD Be nice To know WHAT’S GOING on here.

The GREEN-AND-WHITE fellow SAID SOMETHING like “Keep To The SCRIPT.” Ah, “Say The WORDS we PUT in your MOUTH.” Ron SAID, “BUT They can’T UNDERSTAND THEM.” Hey, he SAID “They,” an INFORMAL use as AMONG equals, NOT To SCUM-EATING Monkeys. COULD Be IMPORTANT. Also, Kris, Ron is a whole LOT YOUNGER Than The Guys in Green AND WHITE. I Think he’s YOUNGER Than all of THEM.

AND The EMPIRE was always so AGE-BOUND, Kris remembered from somewhere.

I Don’T Think This EMBASSY FITS THAT.

“Yes, I name my machine, or computer,” Kris said, choosing to answer what had been said to her and ignore all the internal debate . . . from both sides. “It works better for me when I do.”

THAT AND DRAFTING Me.

Don’T JUGGLE My ELBOW, Nelly. If you Make Me LAUGH OUT of place, or EVEN SMILE, GOD only knows WHAT will happen.

Nelly translated for a moment. The green-and-white guy said nothing, but his former gills took on a pink tinge.

I Think pink Means EMBARRASSED, Nelly put in.

Yes, now I REMEMBER. Kris had forgotten that the old gill slits of the Iteeche sometimes took on meaningful colors. Red almost always meant blood was about to be spilled. Black was deadly intent. White was just flat dead.

Oops, My UNIFORM May Be SENDING The MESSAGE THAT I’M WHITE, Belly-up DEAD on The Top of The POND, COME BITE Me, Kris remembered.

You DIDN’T ask Me, Nelly pointed out.

But Ron was whispering to his machine again. It said, in a soft, machine voice, “It did not do good translating my words to your words even with a name.”

Kris jumped in before Nelly could, choosing her words for precise meanings. “Your words were very difficult for us to translate. ‘Eat many small fish’? ‘Share water.’ These words say something to you. Even though we hear the words, we do not understand what the meanings are behind them for you.”

Now it was Ron’s turn to glare at both his green and whites.

Kris decided to take the bull by the horns. “I welcome you to my ship,” she said with a sweep of her arm to cover their surroundings. “Let us speak words of peace and harmony to each other.”

How Do I TRANSLATE THAT? Nelly asked.

WHAT KIND of SYNTAX DID he use?

NOT Much of any, BUT IT was equal To equal.

Then Keep The SYNTAX SIMPLE AND equal.

Nelly spoke softly in Iteeche, mimicking Kris’s voice.

The two green and whites’ necks turned a brighter pink, almost red. Ron’s took on a soft greenish tinge.

I Don’T Think My TRANSLATION was BAD ENOUGH To Make HIMThrow up. Nelly pouted.

He’s NOT sick. Green is a happy color. You know THAT.

Yeah, BUT I THOUGHT you MIGHT like The Joke.

I DIDN‘T, Nelly.

The rainbow man rested both of his right hands on his chest and muttered something to his machine. It muttered back to him. They exchanged words in rapid fire for a few moments.

WHAT are They TRYNG To say, Nelly?

He’s GLAD you WANT To FIND peace AND HARMONY BeTween The Two of you, BUT CONFUSED ABOUTThe lanGUAGE Does THAT INCLUDE all PRESENT or The HUMANS AND The EMPIRE? I Think The Two fellows in Green AND WHITE HAVE PROGRAMMED The Machine To only Think in ITEECHE. NOTICE how Ron keeps LOOKING AT The Two Green AND WHITES AND is GETTING More AND More RED. I Think The Green AND WHITES HAVE his Machine ARGUING WITH HIM More Than I’D EVEN Think of ARGUING WITH you EVEN THOUGH I AM so DRAFTED.

The green and whites were now both talking to the younger Iteeche. He opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, the machine began rattling off Iteeche in a booming voice.

WHAT’s IT SYING, Nelly?

Nelly translated aloud for all the humans present. “ ‘ The Empire is happy to grant the smelly something or others’—I’d translate it as monkeys—‘the continued right to breathe air, drink water, and yadda yadda, yadda, exist in general.’ Kris, they’re talking down to us, emperor to mud-covered peasant. There’s more about us not having the right to so much as draw breath if it doesn’t please the emperor. How they smashed us into the mud and walked over our foul red-bleeding bodies in the war. This is nasty stuff.”

“Did Ron say anything like that to his machine?” Kris asked.

“Not that I heard,” Nelly answered.

“So, the odds are that this is some claptrap that his advisors loaded before they came over here,” Kris said, glancing at Jack and Colonel Cortez. Both men were showing red at their collars. The guys nodded agreement though they definitely looked called out for a gunfight.

The voice was still booming on, but Nelly wasn’t translating any more of it. Kris raised her hand. “At ease, all hands. Let’s keep our cool. We didn’t come here to start a war. Let’s not let them do it either.”

Kris could hear tense Marines relaxing back into their netting. What she quit hearing was the racket from the Iteeche translation machine. It shut up.

A moment later, it was softly talking to Ron. He snapped something at his two green and whites. Now one of the gray-and-gold Navy types turned and joined in. Everyone was talking. It didn’t look like anyone was listening.

If this was an embassy, it sure wasn’t going all that peaceful even among themselves. Beside Kris, Jack, the colonel, and Penny were frowning, more in puzzlement than anger.

“Gosh, those guys sure like to argue,” Cara observed from the innocence of her twelve years.

Ron raised his hands, all four of them, and silence fell with the speed of a falling executioner’s axe.

One of his hands pointed, all five fingers and thumb out flat, at Cara. He said something. “Who is she?” came from his translator and Nelly at the same time.

Kris unwound her foot from one web and took a step forward to the next. The flashes of skin colors on all of the Iteeche across from her spoke more of confusion than any ordered emotions. She half knelt beside Cara, bringing her six-foot frame down to about equal with the girl’s face.

“This is the child of my assistant’s sister,” Kris said. Beside her, Abby did a formal curtsy, not easy to do in zero gee. A moment later, Cara attempted one of her own. Hers was nothing like Abby’s, but what it lacked in propriety, it made up in cute that needed no translation even across species lines from the look on Ron’s face.

Kris said. “This is an exploration ship, seeking knowledge about the stars and planets, not violence among species. I brought her for her education.”

How’D The TRANSLATIONGo, Nelly?

PRETTY GOOD, I Think. AT LEAST I wasn’T INTERRUPTED.

Ron took his hand off his machine but spoke in Iteeche.

TRANSLATE HIM, Nelly.

“She is spawn of your choosing?”

Kris stood up to her full six feet, which still left her looking up at Ron. “I do not know the significance of choosing a spawn, but yes, she is young, and I have chosen her to travel with us, learn with us, and see the exciting things we see.”

Even before Nelly finished, Ron turned to his associates. Kris was about ready to call them advisors though that seemed too mild a word for their own view of their job. “Open your eyes.” Nelly softly translated his words for the other humans. “Even an immature swimmer can see that there is no harmony among us. How can there be any wisdom? Look around you at her advisors,” the rainbow Iteeche said, sweeping Kris’s side of the docking bay. “They show every color of intent and reflection. This is as much a pleasure boat and science ship and school as it is a warship.”

Pleasure boat, Kris thought, then remembered Teresa was decked out like a streetwalker. Maybe this Ron guy isn’t such a bad judge of character.

They’re GRUMBLING, Kris, BUT They are NOT ARGUING. Oh, AND The NAVY Guy SEEMS To Be More in Ron’s corner Than The Green AND WHITES. They’re COMPLAINING ABOUT Ron’s NOT RESPECTING Their years AND WISDOM. The NAVY Guy is SAYING SOMETHING ABOUT AGE MEANING NOTHING Because They’Ve NEVER FACED ANYTHING like This. Kris, THAT “ANYTHING” he SAID is MEANT To HIDE SOMETHING.SOMETHING THAT is NOT PLEASANT AT LEAST THAT’s WHAT The TRANSLATORS AT The ORANGE NEBULA THOUGHT The WORD MEANT.

This JUST keeps GETTING More INTERSTING, Kris agreed.

So far, Kris had just been reacting to this fuzzy ball of confusion. Now, as she took a deep breath, something that had been nagging at the back of her brain since they’d first been hailed by the Iteeche Death Ball took enough shape for Kris to take a bite out of it.

Nelly, can you FIND any references To CHAP’SUM’WE in The NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN GRAMPA AND The ITEECHE? IT SOUNDS KIND of FAMILIAR.

LOOKING—OH, I SHOULD HAVE Done This sooner, Kris. CHAP’SUM’WE was one of The ORIGINAL ITEECHE NEGOTIATors. GRAMPA Ray LIKED HIM.

YEAH, I THOUGHT so. Isn’T he The one Ray FIGURED The Two of THEM COULD SOLVE EVERYTHING WITH if They COULD JUST SIT Down OVERa couple of Beers?

Yes, I’Ve FOUND THAT reference.

Okay, Nelly, here we Go.

Kris let her eyes light up and put a smile on her face. “Did you say your full name is Ron’sum’Pin’sum’We qu Chap’sum’We?” Boy, that was a mouthful. “Was your grandfather Roth’sum’We’sum’Quin, the negotiator who labored with my grandfather to find peace and harmony between our two peoples?”