Kensho (Claimings)

by Lyn Gala

  However, whether they were moral creatures on the Eightfold Path or not, they were—as a species—terrifying. Rownt shuttles were as large as human battleships, and the newsvids showing the Rownt orbital ships had sent some people into hysteria, or in the current situation, drove them to protest uselessly outside Command’s gates.

  While Haru wasn’t a fan of having any aliens on Earth, he saw no point in protesting. It wasn’t as if Command had given the Rownt permission to land. When they had first appeared in-system after a round of negotiation on Gauss-4, Command had issued general evacuation orders for the large cities, and a number of areas had suffered riots. So no one was under the illusion that Command had encouraged the Rownt to come to Earth. The Rownt simply had the technology to prevent defensive satellites from locking onto their hulls.

  And Command had thought them provincial, underdeveloped turtles good only to provide raw ore and an underground pornography that made its way through the lower ranks. Unless Haru missed his guess, more than one head had rolled over that mistake. While Haru was aware that careers had been ruined by Munson and the Rownt, he had sought this assignment because other careers were being made. General Dafaor had earned a promotion and transfer back to Earth based on his ability to get the Grandmothers to trade.

  Lieutenant Ratos spoke over the comm. “Sir, Lieutenant Munson is here to see you.”

  Haru cringed. He had briefed Ratos on appropriate protocol, including using Munson’s Rownt title. “Send Tuk-Palteia Munson right in,” he answered.

  Haru stood, and seconds later Munson walked in the door with a smile. Or rather he ducked to avoid the top of the door before walking in. “The lieutenant appears to have given me a demotion,” he said with amusement.

  “I’ll speak to him about that,” Haru promised. He had read the briefing reports, so he could imagine that a man who had been systematically abused for as long as Munson had been would guard his titles. After all, they were proof of the respect he had claimed. More than that, Haru didn’t want to disrespect Munson because his work had earned him the right to be called tuk, which Haru understood was either a colonel or a general. From a Rownt perspective, Munson might outrank him, although Command still considered him a lieutenant.

  “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s more used to Earth titles.” Munson appeared to dismiss the issue. “So, Colonel, I understand you would like to discuss osmium.”

  Munson’s quick transition to the issue of trade caught Haru off-balance. “Command had hoped to discuss trade. Is Tuk-Ondry not available?”

  “He is, but he’s working on another deal, so I came to trade,” Munson said, and again, Haru got the impression Munson was amused. When Haru gestured toward a chair, Munson sat without any of the discomfort Haru had expected from a man with Munson’s past. “How much ore would Command like?” he asked.

  Haru sat on the other visitor’s chair. He hoped it would be less confrontational than a conversation over his desk. “We had hoped for fifty pounds.” That was twice what Haru’s superiors had asked for, but the Rownt were shrewd negotiators, and Haru needed to push hard if he hoped to get anything approximating a reasonable price.

  Munson nodded slowly. “That’s a large order, but the Tura Coalition can fill it. The question is why we would want to, given that we would have to reduce our sales to the Imshee.”

  Imshee. The Rownt had mentioned that species and their technology, but neither Haru nor his superiors knew whether to believe the Rownt claim that another highly sophisticated species lived within visiting distance of Earth. Claiming to have other clients was a classic move to increase the price during negotiations. Imshee might be the Rownt word for let’s-trick-these-suckers-into-paying-too-much. Sadly, with the damnable War of the Colonies going on, Earth was willing to pay far too much. The public relations department was touting the fall of Landing as the end of the war, but the Ribelians were far too fanatical to give up simply because they had lost.

  The worst part was that Haru sympathized with their anger over Earth’s treatment of Ribelo-born citizens, but once the war started, the opportunity for sympathy or peace ended, and Earth would take Ribelo back, even if it had to destroy the entire planet to accomplish the goal.

  Haru ran his fingertip over the stitching on the arm of the chair. “What sort of goods are you interested in? I understand texts are popular.”

  “They were,” Munson said, “but since the Rownt have come this far, they’ve electronically raided libraries across several human planets. The uniqueness of human literature has dimmed, and with it, the value.”

  Haru pursed his lips. He had hoped to make a deal they could both profit from, but apparently the easy trades Munson had made while on Prarownt were no longer viable options. “So what is still popular?”

  Liam pursed his lips. “Spices, uniquely crafted artwork, handmade textiles or silks, teas, unique gemstones, although something like a diamond is ubiquitous and nearly worthless in trade. They’re interested in plant specimens or difficult-to-obtain DNA strands, such as fossilized DNA samples from extinct animals.” He stopped and blew out a breath. “Surprise me with an offer, and maybe I’ll get interested in something I had never considered.”

  Haru raised his eyebrows.

  Munson’s smile grew wider. “And if you find something I think is interesting, I’ll even answer the question you aren’t asking.”

  “Which is?”

  “What happened to me to make me so tall?”

  Haru leaned back. “You’re assuming we want to know.”

  “I’m human, so I know you’re dying of curiosity,” Munson said without an ounce of doubt. “But among Rownt, information is the greatest trade good, so I can’t give it away.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” Haru mentally reordered his budget and considered how he might pull a few strings to get access to the boutique goods Munson appeared to favor.

  “I wouldn’t be in trouble; I would, however, kick myself for missing a great opportunity for profit.”

  This meeting had gone sideways, and that left Haru feeling wrong-footed and awkward. And yet Munson, a submissive subordinate with a long history of abuse, crossed his legs at the ankles and let his gaze travel the room with cool curiosity. Haru watched him.

  The changes in Munson went far beyond the physical. Unlike most people raised on one of the continents, Munson appeared to have more patience with silence, and that had not been noted in any of the evaluation paperwork. Haru had read everything Command had on Munson, back to day one. The intake staff had reported that young Munson was fidgety and uncomfortable, although they had noted that he was barely old enough to sign up for service, and fear could have contributed to the lack of focus. His later evaluations had followed a similar theme, although Lieutenant Spooner had reported that Liam’s hyperactivity and occasional lapses of judgment were paired with a rare brilliance at language.

  However, the man in Haru’s office had a calm strength and an aura that made Haru wish he had thought to prepare a tea. Eventually, however, Munson did react to the long silence. He turned his attention to Haru, and he raised his eyebrows in a clear query.

  While convention and propriety would have Haru avoid certain subjects, he had learned to trust his gut. So he spoke his mind. “You are not what I expected.”

  That caught Munson’s attention. “Oh?”

  “You are not what I think of as a submissive.”

  “And have you known many submissives?”

  Haru pursed his lips. “I am from Japan, the land where the sun begins. We have a certain respect for submissive personalities.”

  Munson appeared surprised at that announcement and he took a few seconds to answer with a doubtful, “Do you?”

  “Yes,” Haru said. “Entertainers will host meetings and ease the conversations of more aggressive guests by bringing a submissive energy and redirecting the discussion when appropriate.”

  “That sounds like someone feigning submissiveness,
not a submissive.”

  Haru had to admit that was a possibility. “Perhaps. However I had assumed that those who chose to become hosts did so because of their submissive natures.” Haru remembered the older woman his father had always hired to handle business meetings. Ichi’s gentle conversation and tea service would smooth over the most heated arguments.

  Munson tilted his head. “I would be intensely uncomfortable trying to manage Ondry if he were in a mood to speak aggressively with another. I imagine most submissives would be. I would feel my proper place would be to either avoid interfering with Ondry’s anger or to help him find more creative ways to express it.”

  “Which implies that the hosts I have known and employed use the mannerisms of submission to avoid inciting more aggression,” Haru said, following Munson’s logic to the conclusion.

  Munson smiled without answering.

  “Would you call it surprising that you, as a submissive, chose to sign up to fight?” Haru couldn’t imagine Ichi raising a weapon, but if Munson was right, she had used her mannerisms to control those in the meeting instead. He wondered what she would have said if he had come to her with this same conversation. No doubt she would have smiled and guided him to another topic.

  “I wouldn’t have signed up for the military if I hadn’t been desperate.”

  “You were escaping an abuser.” Haru was in dangerous territory. If Munson chose to take offense, General Darfaor would skin Haru alive and leave his carcass out front for a warning to all other colonels who might interfere with his plans for Rownt trade.

  “I was,” Munson agreed easily. He leaned back and braced his huge hands on his knees. “You’re shocked that I’m not acting damaged or lost.”

  “I’m surprised you appear so assertive,” Haru corrected him.

  “Because I’m a lowly lieutenant or because I’m submissive?”

  Haru shook his head. “I do not think of you as a lieutenant. You are tuk-ranked, and I respect that. Lieutenant is a word on your paperwork to make the accountants happy when they process your pay.”

  “So you believe a submissive is not assertive?”

  Haru hesitated to make such a blunt statement.

  Munson chuckled. “Zach Mora is submissive. If Command hadn’t asked for a volunteer, none of you would have known it.” Munson stared at Haru for long seconds before he continued. “The only submissives you notice are the ones who have been damaged by abusive partners or life in general. The timid soul you think of as a submissive is a frightened soul. A submissive person is someone who gives everything to someone else—their passion, their anger, their strength. If I’m weak, then I weaken Ondry. To be the best submissive I can, I want to be strong. But you people are so busy making assumptions that you don’t believe the aggressive, powerful person sitting next to you might have given himself to another.”

  Haru’s thoughts turned to his father. Ryota Ito had been a powerful business leader with a reputation for shredding his political and business rivals. However, Haru remembered how he had devoted himself to his wife. When Haru’s mother had died of cancer, something in his father had broken. He had turned his business over to Haru’s older sister and retired. Within the year he had wasted away, following his wife to the next world. The doctors had no medical explanation, only softly spoken whispers of a broken heart.

  Haru had a moment of kensho—an epiphany where the world reordered itself and a person glimpsed a deeper reality. Haru had never expected Munson to provide such a clear insight into the universe or Haru’s own family.

  Perhaps Munson and the Rownt were travelers on the Eightfold Path. His mind made another sharp, unexpected connection. Haru thought of the Muromachi period statue of Aizen Myo-o that Tsang had for sale in his antique shop. Haru had tried for years to buy the beautiful, handcrafted piece of history. The ancient craftsman had lovingly carved every fold of fabric into the hard wood so even the weave of the cloth was represented. But that god with his ability to turn lust into spiritual awakening had never wanted to come home with Haru, or at least that was what Tsang had said. The man was particular about who bought his pieces. He had happily sold Haru other antiques, but never Aizen Myo-o.

  “Would Rownt consider an introduction to be a proper trade good?” Haru asked.

  Munson sat up. “Introductions are some of the best trade goods, assuming that you would introduce me to someone useful.”

  “Charles Tsang,” Haru said, even though Munson hadn’t yet offered goods in return. “He’s an art dealer specializing in antiques, and he has a statue I believe you would find value in, although I cannot guarantee he will sell it to you.”

  “Introductions are never guarantees.”

  Haru stood. “Let me call my car, and we can go and visit him. You should tell him how misguided Command is on the issue of submissives. He would be amused.”

  “So, he’s not a fan of Command?” Munson asked as he stood.

  Haru frowned. “I’m not sure he’s a fan of the human race in general.” Haru wasn’t even convinced Tsang was a member of it. The man was eccentric. “But on the way over, I’ll tell you the history of Aizen Myo-o. He’s one of the great kings of wisdom. Tsang has a statue of him that museums have tried and failed to purchase from him.”

  “Really?” Munson definitely sounded interested now. “On the way to his shop, I’ll tell you about the Imshee.”

  “The Imshee?” Haru had not expected to land the holy grail of trade.

  “Command probably needs to know about them because they’re in the neighborhood, and they have some very strange ideas about humans.”

  Those were words to inspire terror in a military man. “How can they have ideas about us? Have they encountered humans?” Haru asked carefully.

  “That is another long story. After you tell me about Aizen Myo-o, I’ll talk to you about persistence hunting.”

  “About what?” Even though Munson spoke English, Haru felt as if he needed a translator to explain Munson’s version of the language.

  “This may take a while. I hope you don’t have meetings this afternoon.”

  Haru did, with General Dafaor. However, the general would forgive him if the trade was a success. “Let me have my aide cancel my afternoon and get the car.”

  Kensho Part Two

  Liam had been nervous about dealing with humans without Ondry, but he had promised himself that he would not allow his past to turn him into a frightened rabbit hiding behind Ondry his whole life. So he had insisted on coming alone. Liam was glad he had.

  As he followed Colonel Ito to the car, he saw how people watched him. They were shocked. Awed. A little scared. They twitched and backed away.

  Liam liked being seven-feet-tall.

  That wasn’t the healthiest reaction. However, it did give him confidence he had lacked the last time he had negotiated with humans. Of course that time he had been dealing with an entire room full of high-powered generals and politicians. Now he only had Colonel Ito.

  Unlike those generals who had spent days arguing the finer points of a deal with the Grandmothers, Ito had a quieter presence. His silences were thoughtful—not predatory. Perhaps he hid his greed better. If Ito lacked ambition, he never would have made it to colonel, after all.

  “After you.” Ito gestured to a ground car. A year ago, Liam would have described it as opulent and unnecessarily large, but now he had to hunch down and slide into the seat while Ito walked around to sit behind the driver. Most transport used computer guidance systems, so if Command had sent a chauffeured car, they were concerned, either about ensuring Liam’s safety or about some threat to the Rownt trade relationship. No doubt Command valued the latter far more.

  “Sir,” the driver greeted Colonel Ito as he settled in.

  “Tsang Gallery, 181st and Jollety Drive.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Out of the window, Liam watched the military personnel walking briskly from one building to another. When Liam had first joined Command, he had always felt l
ike everyone had a task and a purpose except him. He wondered how many others had felt the same.

  “You signed up at the station near here, didn’t you?” Colonel Ito asked.

  “I did,” Liam said, even though the boy who had signed the enlistment paperwork with a shaking hand had been someone else. “So, who is Aizen...?” Liam hesitated to pronounce the second half of the name. It was not an English name, and he didn’t want to offend Ito if this person was someone of historical or religious significance.

  “Aizen Myo-o,” Ito said. “He is one of the Wisdom Kings remembered by the Buddhists. His name translates as the Love-stained Wisdom King.”

  Liam raised his eyebrows. “Stain is an interesting word.” And one that made Liam wonder if Ito was trying to insult him. Zach had commented that several people in the linguistic program had wondered if Liam and Ondry had a sexual relationship and associating love with stain would suggest corruption of love in some way. If Ito hoped to exchange insults, Liam would happily insult him back. He just needed to be sure first.

  “Spoken like a linguist,” Ito said with a laugh. “I am not a master who understands secrets of Buddhism; however, I know that Aizen is the patron of erotic love.”

  Rather than continue to dance around the issue, Liam asked directly, “Are you referencing the rumors about my relationship with Ondry?”

  Ito did a double take and his eyes widened.

  “I can promise you human and Rownt sexuality is highly incompatible,” Liam said. That was technically correct, and Ito could draw his own incorrect conclusions. “I could point you at some disturbing pornography starring Rownt. They tend to have sex in public because it has no function other than reproduction. The vids used to get passed around on the human base on Prarownt.”

  Ito cleared his throat. “It is passed around on many bases. However, Aizen is also the being who can help people avoid the pain that comes with unhealthy love. He transforms physical desire into spirituality and pure love as well as helping to ensure a peaceful home and good business fortunes.”