by Lyn Gala
“From what I have seen of this human world, that would make you look unlike anyone else, and for a human is it not good to be unlike anyone else?”
“Unique.” Liam leaned back into Ondry. He had to resort to English to make himself understood. “I never wanted to be unique, and in a lot of ways, I’m not. Fighters who come home from the fighting—they hurt. I’m not unique in that, and I’m not the only submissive in human culture. Submissive has some very negative associations, but we still have them.”
“The Grandmothers value your opinion. They respect a youngling of four decades, which sounds illogical even saying it.” Ondry narrowed his nose. “However, this makes you unlike others.”
“I’m sorry my age offends.”
Ondry stroked Liam’s neck. “I think of my behavior when I was that young, and the memory causes me the offense. I was insufferable. I walked down paths uninvited and acted in ways best described as obnoxious.” Ondry’s nose narrowed more.
Liam studied him in the mirror Ondry had hung. Rownt did not need to check that their cowlicks weren’t sticking up or that they didn’t have cum splatters on their cheek, so they rarely used mirrors. Of their many faults, vanity was not one. And yet Ondry had hung mirrors in the house in Janatjanay, on the Calti, and now here. It was a small gesture, but it showed Ondry’s love more than any grand promise. Maybe Ondry had been a terror when he was forty, but he was pretty damn perfect now.
“Let’s see what the Grandmothers have on the schedule today,” Liam said, “and then I want to check to see how many credits I have in my military account so we can buy some trade goods.”
Ondry held Liam for a time before he backed out of the small room, allowing Liam into the main bedroom. When they dressed, Liam put on the metal cuffs with the white stones and ran his fingers over the cool surface.
“I could put the nictel on you,” Ondry offered.
Liam could only imagine the expressions on the humans’ faces if Ondry did that. “Not today.” Liam thought about that. “But maybe when we’re headed back to Rownt space, you could use it.”
Ondry nodded and then reached for Liam’s right arm. He traced his fingers over the white stone that marked Liam as belonging to Ondry. “When I was young and bought these, I was foolish enough to think them valuable.”
“I value them,” Liam said. Ondry smiled at him before turning to arrange his own clothing. There was nothing more to say, and Liam appreciated the silence. Being around humans had reminded him of how often they spoke without saying much of anything. He preferred the silence.
By the time they reached the small temple space, the eldest Grandmother was waiting at the door.
“Tuk-Palteia Liam, are you recovered today?”
“I am,” Liam said. “I am sorry my distress caused you an inconvenience.”
“No matter,” she said. “I find your people’s willingness to invest in one another confusing, but to have so many chilta-like feelings shows your honor as a species.”
“But it is like Rownt skin—sometimes that strength is too much and it holds in the swelling,” Liam said.
“You do have a distressing number of medical terms for problems that seem to describe a breakdown in the chilta instincts,” the Grandmother said. She started toward the exit, and two other Grandmothers and three tuk-ranked traders, including Bectl, moved to follow. Ondry did not yield for any of them, but he stayed at Liam’s side, and since the eldest Grandmother continued her conversation with Liam, that put Ondry up front. “But you seem able to control any new emotional attachments.”
“I disagree, Grandmother,” Liam said. He showed off the lessons Ondry had given him on the use of tone to make that as respectful as possible.
She stopped to study him. “Explain.”
“I am attached to the Grandmother in Deidell who first named Ondry tuk, and I will grieve when I learn she is no longer alive.”
The Grandmother’s eyes were wide with confusion. “You did not know her long.”
“But she was kind, and she understood me in a way no Rownt other than Ondry ever has. She is worth grieving over, and while I would help Ondry steal the meat from her plate in a trade, I would also pick vegetables for her.”
“Is this a human trait or one of human palteia?”
Liam shrugged. “I don’t think you can make an assumption about all humans, but Diallo is not a palteia, and she would pick vegetables for you.”
The Grandmother huffed before she walked toward the door again. “And will that keep her from trying to steal my shoes while I sleep?”
“Probably not,” Liam said. “But like I said, every human is different. Human behaviors don’t translate well into Rownt.”
“Perhaps not as different as you believe.” They reached the hatch where the group would have to split in order to fit everyone through, and she ushered Liam inside with a gesture. Ondry followed. “I am over nine hundred, and I have traded with many aliens, but never before have Rownt instincts matched an alien’s instincts so closely. The Anla are dangerously volatile, the Ko-tekteta are inflexible in their methods, the Imshee are reasonable creatures but difficult to engage, and the Cy are not suitable trading partners. Tuk-Palteia Liam, you are the first alien I would allow to pick vegetables for me.”
The Grandmother had made a factual statement, but the compliment implied by it was enough to take Liam’s breath. He struggled to find the right word to express his appreciation, but he didn’t know how to construct a compliment without implying insult. The outer door opened, and Liam squinted against the morning sun. “The Cy?” he asked instead. This was the first he’d heard of that species.
“They are old and tired and uninterested in the universe,” the Grandmother said. “And if one offered to pick vegetables, I would suspect it had brain damage of some sort.” She started toward the waiting humans. The group was much smaller today. General Dafaor was there with Colonel Diallo, a half-dozen other colonels, the female general whose name Liam could not remember, and a captain in a technical services uniform.
General Dafaor stepped forward. “Eldest, honored Grandmothers,” he said in passable Rownt. “Tuk-ranked traders. Welcome.”
The Grandmother darkened in pleasure. “Do you accept the terms set out in our offer?”
“Could we negotiate a better deal?” Dafaor asked.
“We could reopen all areas for renegotiation,” the Grandmother answered.
As soon as Diallo translated, Dafaor laughed. “I don’t know I can afford to negotiate with you anymore. The military would like to have some money left over for luxuries like food and maybe the salary for one or two soldiers.”
The Grandmother’s deep color faded some.
“That is one area where human and Rownt instincts do not match. Humans insult themselves in order to show favor to a trading partner,” Liam said. Since he felt uncomfortable hearing the compliment, he imagined the Grandmother was twice as bothered.
“I apologize,” Dafaor said. “Colonel Diallo had warned me to avoid compliments, so that is my error. I certainly meant no insult. I understand you are very able to defend your own trading abilities and you don’t require my praise.”
“No.” The Grandmother held up her hand. “This is your world, and your manners are appropriate. The error is mine in lacking skill in this area of trade. I shall have Tuk-Palteia Liam assist me in the future.”
“I would rather you not,” Dafaor answered. “With the Anla, we tried too hard to believe they were like us, so this time I hope we can do things differently.”
The Grandmother blinked at Dafaor, and Liam read the approval in the tilt of her head and the narrowing of her eyes. He hoped Diallo knew enough Rownt to make the compliment clear to the general. “I respect your decision, and the Rownt are pleased at the agreement we have reached. Next time, we hope to make you pay far more dearly.”
Liam frowned. If the trade was ended, he wasn’t sure why they were meeting. Rownt didn’t socialize the way human traders
might.
“I would like to introduce Captain Zachery Mora with our diplomatic corps.” Dafaor gestured toward the captain. Mora was in his late twenties or early thirties with dark hair cropped close to his scalp. It made the whorls in his hair stand out. If he let it grow, he was going to have some wild cowlicks.
“Welcome to this Earth colony planet,” Mora said in Rownt. He bowed low enough to show a hint of neck.
“Go, speak with Tuk-Palteia Liam before you make this decision, youngling,” she said with a friendlier tone than Liam had expected her to use with a stranger. Liam looked to Ondry, but Ondry had a perfectly blank expression that meant he had no idea what was going on and he was intent on preserving his claim to wisdom by remaining silent.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Mora said. Unlike the general and others who still tended to call her Eldest as though it were her name, Mora used the more correct form of address. Then Mora turned to Liam. “There’s a seating area under the shade.” He glanced to the north of the building they had been using for negotiations, and someone had set up a huge cloth sunbreak. Two human-sized tables and a number of tall benches sat around two sad-looking potted trees.
Liam didn’t know what to say because he didn’t understand what was going on. So he silently walked toward the seating area. Captain Mora followed. That felt strange because in his head, Liam still thought of himself as a sergeant. Then again, he was tuk ranked, and that was higher than a captain, so maybe he shouldn’t worry.
Liam chose a table and sat. “You’re studying Rownt,” he said. When one had no strategy, a statement of fact was always a safe place to start.
“I am,” Mora said. He remained standing. Hell, he was nearly at a parade rest. He still had some military polish on him, which usually meant he hadn’t spent too long at the front. “I started a few months ago. Anla was not for me. They have some pretty twisted ways of thinking.”
“Rownt is harder to pronounce, but it makes more sense,” Liam agreed. He’d switched for the same reason. He waited for Mora to give some indication of what decision had to be made, but Mora kept looking over to where the generals and Rownt stood next to the Li.
The silence grew uncomfortable before Mora sat at the table and gave Liam an uneasy smile. “This is weird. I’ve never talked to anyone about my personal preferences, but the internal briefing made it sound like this was pretty important. So, tell me, what are they like?”
“The Rownt?” Liam was not following this conversation, and he had no idea what personal preferences Mora was even talking about.
“Yeah. What are they like?” Mora had an intense look.
“What do you want to know?”
Mora leaned forward, and it took a half second for Liam to process he was sharing a confidence rather than moving aggressively close. “This palteia status… Do they respect your skills?”
Liam leaned away from Mora. “Are the generals trying to suggest I’m being manipulated again? I am tuk ranked, which is somewhere around a full colonel, so don’t assume that because I’m submissive the Rownt think any less of me.”
“I…” Mora looked alarmed. “I clearly offended you. I didn’t mean to, and the general said I could trust you to give me honest answers before I agreed to join the Calti, so all I want is some information.”
“Join the Calti? What?” Liam felt like the world had suddenly shifted fifteen degrees to the left. Why would a human join the ship? While Liam wasn’t on the top of anyone’s list for ambassador, Colonel Diallo had status, so bringing in someone new seemed illogical to say the least.
“The ship. Did I pronounce the name wrong?”
Liam had to reset his brain before he could answer. Pronunciation was the least of his concerns. “You pronounced the name correctly, but why would you join the Calti?”
Mora’s voice became more hesitant. “Because Command wants the Rownt to have more experience with humans.”
“So they’re sending you? Colonel Diallo has more experience working with them.”
“But she said they wouldn’t talk to her outside formal trades because adults don’t interact with one another. That’s why she sent out a written briefing asking for anyone in training who was submissive.” Mora gave an uneasy laugh. “That is not something I ever expected the military to ask me about, but this mission sounded important. And trust me, if you tell me I’m not right for the job, I’ll walk away. Colonel Diallo talked to our class, and I know she still feels guilty about being the person handling the diplomacy when violence broke out between humans and Anla. I don’t want to be the translator who lets that happen a second time.”
The audacity of what Mora was suggesting made Liam a little light-headed. Mora was willing to join the Rownt as a palteia, but no matter how much Diallo had explained the position, he couldn’t possibly understand what he was signing up for. Liam looked to where Diallo stood next to the general. “She doesn’t understand as much about Rownt as you might think.”
“Is that why they won’t talk to her?” Mora asked. From a human perspective, it was such a normal question. Refusing to speak to someone was a passive-aggressive form of disapproval. But if Liam translated the idea into Rownt, it made no sense.
“Adult Rownt don’t socialize the way we define it. Tuk-Ondry may walk the corridors and speak with others, but he is listening for what supplies are in demand and planning his future trades. Rownt engaged in solitary professions such as farming might go for a year without speaking to anyone, and it will not bother them. They will harvest their goods, visit the temple and provide their gifts, trade for what goods they need, and go back to their farm.”
“They’re not much for small talk, huh?”
“They don’t understand the concept.”
Mora appeared genuinely concerned for the first time. “I don’t think… I couldn’t do that. I’m a little more social. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, even if the Grandmother accepts me.”
Liam took a breath as the last piece fit into place. The Grandmother wanted a way to understand humans, and Mora was her best strategy for gaining access to one with less emotional damage. No doubt that factored into this deal she’d made with Command, along with the natural Rownt desire to shelter a palteia.
“If the Grandmother takes you as her palteia, she will make you the center of her life. She will always have time to talk to you, and she will make sure you have work you enjoy. For me, that’s trading. If you love translating, she may work with you translating the digital records they have.” Liam thought about how she’d talked to him about Ondry needing to give him more freedom. “She’s likely to introduce you to a lot of high-status individuals, and you will probably be able to choose which translation projects you want to work on. You would have her status, so you’d have the rank to make your own judgments about which work was most important.”
Mora let out a long breath and slowly nodded. “And the submission part? My balls are reapplying for positions as internal organs because I’ve seen how they mate.”
“For them, submission isn’t sexual.”
“At all?”
Liam decided a more nuanced answer would wait until later. “No. Sex is about a female wanting sperm for eggs. If you’re around long enough, I’m sure Ondry will find a way to mention how many females have chosen to pull his tail…and that’s a synecdoche for Rownt sex. But submission is something different.”
“How different?”
Liam hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He wouldn’t discourage Mora from taking the position. If nothing else, the Rownt needed to see more humans to understand how different they were. However, Liam didn’t want Mora to accept this job with some unrealistic idea about submission from a Rownt perspective. There were no contracts, no time off, no limits. “I work for Ondry, and I’ve given myself to him so much I feel what he feels. When he wants something, I get an itch that makes me want to get it for him.”
Mora ducked his head, and in an instant looked about five years younger. He had suc
h huge dark eyes that Liam knew Mort would have sold a kidney to get someone this beautiful under his control. “Yeah, I know the feeling. But usually, sexual favors I’m not going to discuss in public are involved.”
“You shouldn’t jump into this, because with Rownt, it’s not about sex. That means the submission doesn’t turn off after everyone has an orgasm the way it often does with humans,” Liam warned. “Ondry is always dominant. When I get hurt, he comes raging in. When he can’t fix things, he gets aggravated. And after a while of having someone put me at the center of his universe, I pretty much feel the same about him. I would give him anything. I mean, anything.” Liam emphasized the last word.
“That sounds terrifying.”
“Sometimes it is. I’m afraid I’m going to make a mistake, and honestly I’ve made some serious ones. I’m lucky the Rownt are slow to act and they prefer to gather as much information as possible. That’s probably the only thing that’s kept the two species from having another incident,” Liam said, but then remembering the Anla, he added, “Not that Rownt would ever hurt children. They’re a little fanatical about kids.”
“Tell me their worst trait. I mean, this is potentially a lifelong assignment, so give me the absolutely worst thing I’ll have to deal with.” Mora frowned and pressed his hands against the table as though bracing himself.
Liam had to think. Ondry had offered him so much love and support that Liam rarely thought back on what he’d given up—not that he’d had a choice. Not really. Back before Liam had become Ondry’s palteia, the Grandmothers had asked him if he wanted to go back with humans, but he’d been too drugged to think rationally. His fears had answered for him more than his rational mind. And he was grateful. He might not have ever found the strength to choose Ondry, not when Liam had been so convinced everything in his life was destined to hurt him. “The worst part is I love Ondry so much, and sometimes I can’t explain things to him. Emotionally, human reactions are inherently illogical when you try to explain them in Rownt terms. I recently found out some of the people I served with at the front didn’t make it.”