Treaty at Doona

by Anne McCaffrey

  He studied the faces closely. They had been growling among themselves. He had clearly heard distinguishable syllables, some of them repeated. The creatures had long, agile tongues, suitable for pronouncing the complexities of a well-developed language. It was disconcerting to stand next to beings who made him feel so insignificantly small, like a child among giants.

  The aliens must have sensed his discomfiture, for all three rolled back off their feet and onto their tailbones. It was a graceful gesture, ending with the body being braced solidly with hunched-up rear legs and outspread tail. Their lower limbs were short in comparison to the length of the body, but they were heavy and solid, made for balance, not speed.

  “I am Ken Reeve,” he said again, pointing to himself as he hunkered down in his best approximation of their new posture. He wondered if he should ask Hrriss to display his tail. “And you?” He extended his hand toward them.

  The largest of the aliens roared again, and waved a thick claw at him, turning it palm down and drawing it from the floor up to its head. Seeing that he didn’t understand, it leveled out the claw at its eye, and drew an invisible line out toward Ken.

  “What are they doing, Dad?” Todd demanded.

  He smiled, delighted. “Oh, I get you. You’re trying to equalize things. They want me to remain standing up, so that we’re all at eye level,” he said over his shoulder. “Ken Reeve,” he indicated once more to the aliens.

  “Grzzeearoghh,” the largest replied slowly and carefully in its basso profundo voice. It sounded like the revving of an engine.

  “Errizz-eer-oh?” Ken repeated uncertainly, trying to duplicate the growl.

  “Grzzeearoghh,” the large one said complacently, wrapping its forepaws over its belly.

  The gesture made it look even more like the holos of Earth bears, and Todd suppressed a chuckle. Hrriss shuddered, his ears halfway back.

  “Their voices make me uncomfortable,” he said in Low Hrruban. “Do they always speak at such volume? Spoken so loudly, the deep notes reverberate harshly on my ear bones.” He shook his head as if to relieve the pressure. “Hrrubans do not raise their voices unless they wish to attract attention or if they are angry. Could we have made them angry?”

  “How could we? I don’t think they’re upset, or they wouldn’t be looking so comfortable,” Todd said. “And with the size of those rib cages, I’d be surprised if they spoke in soprano voices.”

  Ken tried the alien’s multisyllabic name over and over again, until the large one smiled at him. “I think I’ve got it, chaps,” he called. “Meet Grzzeearoghh. Looks like he’s in charge here.”

  Todd and Hrriss cheered. The aliens looked surprised but not displeased at the noise, regarding their visitors with polite curiosity. Beside Todd, the Spacedep men seemed to be making themselves as insignificant as possible, except Greene, who stood boldly pointing his recorder at the aliens. Jilamey was taking in the whole situation with awed joy.

  “We’re communicating already! It’s too fascinating!”

  Grinning at Landreau’ s genuine enthusiasm, Ken pointed at the medium bear. “Who?”

  While he was learning the complexities of pronouncing “Eonneh,” the cub rolled off its haunches and waddled toward him.

  “Look out!” shrieked Lauder, backing away. The young medic’s face was pale.

  “What for?” Ken asked, breaking off his language lesson. “Hi, there, fella,” he said as the cub bent to sniff his shoes. While he waited patiently, the cub ran its shiny black nose up his suit leg, sneezing briefly as the acrid stench of the transparent plastic tickled its nasal passages. But it continued its olfactory examination, shoving its nose into Ken’s armpit and down his arm to his gloved hand. It sneezed again. Ken threw a shrug back toward his party. The cub meant him no harm. It was only curious, like any youngster. When they all unsuited, the bears were likely to get a few aromatic surprises.

  The cub threw both of its heavy upper paws up onto Ken’s shoulders and dragged his face down so that it could look at him. It seemed puzzled by the helmet. Ken rapped on the plastic bell with a fist, then waggled his head back and forth inside, trying to show that it was an artificial covering. The cub let out a series of pleased grunts that sounded like stentorian giggles, and let go of him. Ken hunkered down and extended his hand. The youngster sniffed it and squealed. He noticed that the black nostrils of the other two were twitching, but more discreetly. Scent must be important to them; a fact worth noting. The trouble was that humans did not smell like plastic suiting.

  “You’re a real sweet little critter. What’s your name?” Ken asked the delighted cub. “Ken Reeve,” he said, carefully enunciating the two syllables as he pointed to himself. “You?” he asked, pointing to the cub.

  “Weddeerogh,” said the youngster in an unexpected baritone, then scooted shyly back behind the largest alien.

  “Aw,” Jilamey said. “Acts just like a kid, too.”

  “I guess,” Frill said, finding his voice at last. “If you like kids that big.”

  “Gringg,” the biggest one said suddenly, indicating itself and the two others. “Gringg.”

  “Gringg?” Ken asked. “Grr-ing?”

  “Reh.” The big alien tilted its head to one side and let out a short grunt. Ken fancied it gave him a look of approval.

  “Hayuman,” he said, pointing to himself. “Hayuman.”

  “Ayoomnnn.”

  “Good.” He walked over to stand beside Hrriss. “Hrruban.”

  The red eyes followed him carefully. “Rrrrrooobvvnnn,” Grzzeearoghh said, growling the r’s rather than rolling them as a Hrruban would.

  “Close,” Ken said approvingly. “Good for you, little fellah. And we’re all Doonarralans.” He gave the leader a big nod and a smile, which it copied, as he indicated Todd, Hrriss, and himself. “Well, now we know what we all are. Let’s start on things.” He knelt down, and patted the floor. “What do you call this?” Ken asked the big bear. “We call it rllama. Rllama.”

  “What are you doing, teaching it Hrruban?” Frill demanded, indignant. “You should teach it Terran.”

  “One language at a time,” Ken warned him. “We need a lingua franca, and both of our peoples speak Middle Hrruban. The Gringg can learn the niceties of Terran and High Hrruban once they’ve mastered this one. Now pipe down, unless you want to do this for me?”

  “No, I sure don’t,” Frill said quickly, backing off.

  “Urrrlllah. Ma,” the alien intoned.

  “We’re making progress. Rllama,” Ken said, rolling the r, and keeping his mouth wide open so it could see the way he rolled his tongue. The little one watched him from the shelter of its parent’s body, trying to match his facial expressions and rolling its long tongue. Ken laughed.

  “Do you know, I think I’m the first sentient alien they’ve ever encountered.”

  “How can you make an assumption like that, Reeve?” Greene demanded. He looked slightly sick.

  “This all seems to be new to them,” Ken replied. “They’re not acting as if they’re anticipating what I’m going to do. And I think they’re enjoying it.”

  * * *

  “Weddeerogh, you have no need to be shy,” Grzzeearoghh said, turning her head over her shoulder to beam at her offspring. “This is becoming most interesting. Will you go and get writing materials for us? Now we are starting to work with vocabulary, I don’t want to miss anything. This is a very important moment in Gringg history.”

  “Yes, Mama,” the cub said, with one more peek at Ken. “What funny hands she has, with no claws. I do not like the smell of that stuff she wears. I would like to smell her. I hope her own skin smells better.”

  “She wears a protective covering, showing concern for our health and hers. I admire that,” Grzzeearoghh said. “I did not know what to expect from another race, certainly not such scrupulous consideration. And we k
now we must act with caution. Now, please go.”

  “Yes, Mama.” On all fours, the cub scurried toward the doors, which opened and closed behind him.

  “Rllama,” the strange female said.

  “Rrrllahma,” Grzzeearoghh intoned. Her pronunciation seemed to delight the visitor. “I do believe we are getting somewhere. Good! I wish the female’s friends were more calm. One of the females and the male seem quite at home, but I think those others may faint. And that female with its limb stuck out holding the little device seems most uncomfortable.”

  “I must confess to a certain amount of nervousness, too, Captain,” Eonneh admitted. “They are a feeble-looking race, are they not? No fur to speak of. I am almost afraid to move for fear of hurting them. We have all been shown how important it is to give the appearance of being no threat to any new race we encounter. And such amazing dimorphism between sexes. You’d think they were almost separate species. When the male speaks, his voice is so shrill it hurts my ears.”

  “Here it is, Mama,” Weddeerogh said, galloping in through the blast doors with a tablet and stylus in his paw.

  “Good, dear. Give it to Eonneh. Write this down, Eonneh. Their word for floor is ‘rrrllama.’ ”

  The Gringg male put the pad of thin but solid tiles down between his feet and hooked the two loops of the stylus over the first and second claws of his right upper paw. He sounded out the word to himself carefully before beginning to inscribe it. In Gringg culture, writing anything down with a living hand made it official. Gringg males made the best record-keepers, poets, librarians, even artists; they also mastered the theoretical sciences to forward development. Eonneh was unusually skilled in all the arts, and was considered a credit to his gender, though he was too modest to allow such compliments to his face. The females, larger by ten to thirty percent, organized, and exercised the practical arts, such as all forms of engineering, and tended to take the lead in exploration. In Eonneh’s opinion, Grzzeearoghh was an excellent captain, and was handling the situation perfectly. The World Congress which chose her as their envoy to any possible sentients had made the best possible choice.

  As the alien female looked on with interest, Eonneh made the characters for a short growl, followed by a lingual extension, then a nasal hum. The accents that went above and below the characters indicated the subordinate vowel sounds.

  * * *

  “I’m enjoying this,” Ken said, coming close to the scribe for a good look at what Eonneh was doing. “Their written language is beautiful: a minor work of art if this is any sample. Nothing from even ancient Terran civilizations comes close to it.” Showing his camera first to the two adult Gringg, he walked around and pointed it down at the pad to record the scribe’s work. “I think he’s trying to get it down in a phonetic fashion. That’s what I’d do. Well—” He snapped another shot. “This is their attempt at ‘floor.’ ”

  “Can you tell how they phoneticize, Dad?” Todd asked.

  “Hardly,” Ken said with a laugh. “Not after just one word. It’s going to take a while to get anywhere useful.”

  “Don’t worry,” Hrriss assured him. “Our hosts have settled in for the linguistic siege.”

  Eonneh scribed busily at the big pad, with Jilamey behind him to watch how the handscript was made. The pen contained free-flowing ink that the scribe carefully controlled to make thick and thin strokes on the smooth surface of the tile. Landreau was clearly impressed by the skill required, for each pictograph was complex and beautiful.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing down at the character that Eonneh was patiently drawing. “Er, how do you say it? Aaah? Bbbb?”

  “Vv.”

  “And that little one?” Jilamey moved his finger to a mark like an accent that went over the top right corner of the squarish character.

  “Ooo,” Eonneh said carefully, glancing up over his shoulder at the Ayoomnnn.

  “Really? This must be the way you spell ‘Hrruban,’ ” Jilamey replied. “And that?” He indicated another mark, this time set below and to the side of one of the elaborate pictographs.

  “Hhhh.”

  “That’s not a vowel,” he protested.

  “That’s an aspirate,” Ken said, coming over to look. “So the different notations are divided into hard consonant sounds and vowels? Good job, Landreau.”

  “Huh?” Jilamey frowned in query.

  “Is it all like this?” Ken said to Grzzeearoghh, pantomiming the handwritten panel onto the nearest round screen.

  “Be careful, Reeve,” Greene called. He felt down his hip for his side arm, and remembered with regret that it had been left behind on the Hamilton. If these gigantic aliens got out of control, he had nothing but his skills at unarmed combat with which to protect the Human of the party.

  The captain rose to her full height and padded over to the console. “The skinny Ayoomnnn female is both intelligent and curious,” she told Eonneh. “See this, Genhh Rhev,” she said, pulling up a textfile on the screen.

  Ken, recognizing the slightly mangled pronunciation of his name, followed her to the console. As he watched, fascinated, the computer laid down lines of the complicated characters first, followed by the small marks above and below the lines. As he watched, fascinated, the computer laid down lines of complicated characters first, followed by the small marks above and below the lines. As Grzzeearoghh sounded it out slowly to him, he realized his guess was right.

  “They’re going to be a little confused by written Terran,” Ken noted. “If they’re used to aspirates and vowels as separate notation, it’s going to take them a while to get used to seeing the characters all the same size and on the same line. It’ll be interesting to see how quickly they cope with such a difference.”

  “It’s primitive,” Greene said dismissively. “Inscribing information by hand is slow and inefficient. Technology like this must be a fluke.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Commander,” Jilamey said from his post behind Eonneh. “Even on Earth, the ancient art of calligraphy is still practiced and held in esteem. It seems perfectly normal to me. I spend a lot of time in the Artists’ Corridor, where there’s a good deal of reverence for the old forms.”

  Greene snorted. “You can’t attribute Human characteristics to aliens who may turn out to be dangerously barbaric.”

  “I wish this could go faster,” Ken said, sighing, as he studied the round screen. “It could take us an age to put together a working vocabulary.” He went over a number of items in the bay, asking for the aliens’ words, and giving them the Middle Hrruban equivalents.

  “And what’s this?” he asked, pointing at the Spacedep shuttle.

  “Va’arrel,” said Grzzeearoghh.

  “Va’arrel?”

  “Reh.”

  “Good,” Ken said. “Well, what do you call the big ship?” He gestured in a wide circle, indicating the vessel around them. The big alien followed his hand with its eyes.

  “Va’arrel,” the Gringg repeated.

  “This is the same? Va’arrel?” Ken pointed at the shuttle. “Va’arrel?” He circled his arm.

  Grzzeearoghh seemed to be listening carefully for something, and was mildly disappointed not to hear it. The alien shook its large head from side to side. “Va’arrel.”

  “But that’s what I said,” Ken insisted. “What am I missing? Va’arrel,” he said again, pointing to the shuttle. The alien sat back with paws folded. “Va’arrel.”

  “Morra,” the Gringg corrected him. “Va’arrel.”

  “There is no difference,” Frill complained.

  “Wait a second,” Ken said. “I thought I got a sense of something there. It’s possible I’m not capable of hearing the difference between two similar sounding words, and yet there is one, isn’t there, old fellow?”

  The dark-red eyes were sympathetic but encouraging. Ken grinned. “Your voices go so fa
r down I wonder if you’re dropping past the registers that we Hayumans can hear. Or perhaps it’s a somatic element I’m missing. Of course, I could just plain be pronouncing it wrong. Only practice will help with that. Let’s collect some more examples of Gringg speech to take home with us.”

  To speed things up, Todd and Hrriss volunteered to work with the other Gringg to teach one another vocabulary, leaving them with plenty of data when the Doona party finally left.

  Ken, with the loudest voice, found himself talking to Grizz, as he nicknamed the Gringg captain. The big alien approved the shorter form with a dropped jaw and a discernible twinkle in its eye. In its slightly nasal voice, the elder Reeve’s name came out as Genhh.

  Eonneh, Hrriss, and Dodh, as the Gringg pronounced Todd’s name, were already working out the pronunciation of more words, and writing them down on the pad. Frill, who was beginning to become interested in spite of his initial apprehensions, hung over their shoulders, kibitzing. The navy medic, still nervous but growing bolder, circled around. Greene maintained his distance, making the occasional comment into his recorder, still prepared to defend himself if necessary. Jilamey hunkered down on the floor in front of the cub, with his knees akimbo.

  “Hi there, little guy. I’m Jilamey.”

  “Chilmeh!” the cub echoed happily, and reached out to push the Human’s knee companionably. Jilamey pushed back, and found himself rolling over the floor in the crowing Gringg’s powerful embrace. His helmet hit the ground with a clonk.