by Lyn Gala
The stranger shivered. “You and you, we and we on ships.”
A visceral disgust washed through her at the idea of walking into their strange ship. She couldn’t prevent her nostrils from narrowing. “I do not want to be in a ship,” she said slowly and deliberately. As a Grandmother, she would walk anywhere in her territory, but the ships were not her territory, and she was not comfortable going into a machine that performed the impossible feats that the Imshee machines managed. Some of the Grandmothers were trying to understand how something which was so heavy could rise into the air, but she had no interest in ever understanding something so illogical.
The Imshee slammed the ground and shivered so that its long hair waved like grass in a storm. “Rownt are hunters.” The Imshee chittering almost drowned out the translator voice.
“I hunt,” she agreed. She was as capable of taking out a kawt now as she had been at a hundred.
“We and we invite many Rownt hunters.”
Frustration made her twitch her tail. If the stranger understood that insult, they did not react. “Do you have a predator that you would wish us to hunt?” She needed clear answers.
“Yes.” Perhaps it was arrogance on her part, but she could almost imagine a relief or an eagerness in the Imshee's frenzied motions. But perhaps she was trying to imagine an emotion which did not exist in the strangers.
“What would you have us hunt?”
“Adversaries.”
The Imshee had never used the word adversary before. That applied to Rownt who were in competition for the same resources, and that the competition had become violent. She could imagine no reason why she would ever participate in an Imshee battle for resources. Whether one Imshee came or another, or whether the Imshee stopped coming to Prarownt at all, she did not care for the most part. She certainly had no interest in what might pass for Imshee competition.
“I am uninterested in Imshee adversaries.”
“Adversaries wrong word.”
She disliked Imshee gravely. “Then choose the correct word.”
“Rownt lack word. Adversary is not Imshee adversary. Is adversary-stranger to Imshee. Adversary-stranger to Rownt. Rownt hunters in ship.”
Perhaps these Imshee were like a farmer who hired a hunter to take out a difficult predator who stalked her herd. If so, she was still uninterested. “Imshee can fight Imshee adversary-stranger. Rownt stay home.”
That caused a great twitching in the limbs. She drew herself up straighter and touched her waistband where she had a new-style weapon based on Imshee technology.
“Adversary-stranger of Imshee equals adversary-stranger of Rownt.”
That statement didn't even make sense. There was no creature that was an adversary to all Rownt. “Imshee adversary-strangers are not equal to Rownt adversary-strangers. I do not have adversaries.” After all, no other town would try to take their territory, not when taking their territory would require dealing with Imshee. Other Rownt were sane enough to avoid strangers.
“Imshee adversary-stranger equals holders of giant ships.”
She watched the Imshee. She had nothing more to say on the issue of Rownt involvement in Imshee fights, especially since the traders who spent their time with these strangers explained that the Imshee had a concept of battle that extended over weeks, months. They lost growing seasons and years of child-rearing to fight in ever-larger battles. More individuals joined from one day to the next. It was a concept that the Grandmothers had discussed at length and still could not grasp emotionally. Knowing that, she had no interest in ever fighting with an Imshee. They were an insane species, and insanity should not be indulged.
“Adversary-strangers in large ships come to Prarownt. They take Rownt away from Prarownt. Rownt in ships of adversary-strangers in large ships.
Her eyes widened and her nose snapped shut involuntarily. Every year, some Rownt would go missing. They were assumed lost to a storm or hungry kawt or landslide. If these strangers had taken Rownt from her village, she would kill them on sight. But that did not mean she wished to fight for Imshee. “Trade us better weapons and we will stop the adversary-strangers in large ships when they come here. They will take no more Rownt.” She would personally make sure of that.
“Rownt on ships of adversary-strangers in large ships.”
“Then trade us weapons so that I may patrol my border,” she repeated.
“Rownt on ships of adversary-strangers in large ships.”
It was not the concept of Imshee battle that was insane—the creatures themselves seem to lack some logical abilities that a Rownt eggling was born with.
“I understand Rownt are on ships of your adversary-strangers in large ships,” she said slowly, the way one might speak to a Rownt eggling from a distant province who spoke a different dialect. “I will protect Rownt from being taken to ships by adversary-strangers in large ships. If you provide better weapons or designs for better weapons, I will stop the adversaries when they come to Prarownt.” She ducked her head in an attempt to reassure him. Perhaps if she treated him the way one would an eggling, he would calm himself.
Instead, the Imshee slammed to the ground with its front claws. “Adversary-strangers in large ships use Rownt taken into ships. They use Imshee. They hurt Imshee. They hurt Rownt.”
Her nose tightened again. Some animal species did that—they would take a lesser species and use it for their own good. She knew of a spider species that would lay its eggs in the younglings of other species. She knew of a rodent that would trap reptiles, wall them into a space so that they would eat the insects that plagued their own young, and when the rodents had finished raising their young, they would leave, and the captive reptiles would remain trapped where they would starve to death. Such happened. She found it disgusting, but she was not the Grandmother to walk a border large enough to encompass all Rownt taken from the planet.
“I will protect any Rownt I can on Prarownt,” she said.
“We and we and many wes take hunters to adversary-strangers in large ships. Alternative. Rownt could build big ships.”
The thought of Rownt in ships disgusted her more than the idea of strangers who acted like mercenary little rodents. Rownt were connected to the planet. They were part of their world. Rownt had no business walking between the stars.
“I protect Rownt here.”
The Imshee shrank back as if she had struck him. She wished that someone would be able to explain how these strangers thought. She waited, and eventually the stranger repeated, “Adversary-strangers in large ships hurt Rownt.”
“If I see these adversary-strangers hurt Rownt, I will hurt them. I will make them bleed. I will tear open their skin so that their internal organs fall out at their feet,” she promised. “But Rownt fight here.” She imitated the Imshee gesture of pounding her foot against the ground.
“No hunters?” The translator voice had a strange trill in it.
She felt as if she were stealing the profit from an eggling, but she was not Grandmother to those absent Rownt or these Imshee.
“Rownt fight here,” she said firmly.
“Adversary-strangers in large ships like Imshee durability. Like Rownt strength. Have taken many Rownt.”
“I will kill them if I see them,” she repeated.
“Adversary-strangers in large ships would take more Rownt if not Rownt so illogical with offspring. If they can cure Rownt violence with offspring, they come. They take many Rownt. They take all Rownt.”
Coldness sunk into the center of her being and she felt her legs get warm from the rush of blood. “What Rownt offspring?” she asked slowly and deliberately. A familiar fury rose in her stomach, the fury of the hunter who sees a dangerous predator stalking her. She had been stalked more than once, but she was alive and the animals who would stalk her were not.
“We and not we see Rownt offspring in ships of adversary-strangers in large ships.”
“Where?” She fought down an urge to kill.
“Far. Adver
sary-strangers in large ships go far. Rownt on ships of adversary-strangers in large ships carry much weight. More than Imshee. Faster than Imshee. But when offspring hurt, Rownt are illogical. Dangerous. They frighten even adversary-strangers in large ships. But they seek control of Rownt feeling toward offspring. They cure Rownt, they come take Rownt.”
These adversaries had taken offspring. Egglings. There were egglings being hurt by an adversary that would use them the way mice used reptiles. Rownt children were being used, and what would happen when they were of no use? Her arms ached with the need to grab something and rip it out of existence.
“Where are the adversary-strangers in large ships?” She stalked forward, her elbows bent and her fury nearly overwhelming her.
“Can reaching ship we and we and new we.”
“Then we go now.” She moved toward the ship, her anger barely contained. The Imshee raced in front of her. “Adversary-strangers in large ships are many. One Rownt is not enough.”
“If you believe that, you have never seen an angry Rownt,” she countered. She tried to walk around the Imshee, but the animal darted in front of her again. “We and not we have seen angry Rownt. Much damage. Much fear. But offspring died. Rownt died. Imshee not we or we died. Adversary-strangers in large ships is too many and too much. They overwhelm one Rownt.”
If she were still tuk-ranked or ka-ranked, she would not have been able to control herself. She would’ve grabbed the Imshee and ripped one of its legs off before beating it to death for getting in her way, but she forced her logical mind to the forefront. The Imshee had seen Rownt try to defend egglings and fail. These adversaries were too strong for one Rownt, because any Rownt who was taken with an eggling would destroy mountains one handful at a time to bring the youngling home. But there were no egglings who had come home with stories of walking between stars. The Imshee spoke the truth, and that made her angrier. Strangers were hurting egglings.
“Bring information on the adversary-strangers in large ships. Bring all the information to the temple. Bring anything you have. Rownt will retrieve our egglings.”
“Adversary-strangers in large ships will try to stop.”
She took several leaping steps forward until she was inches from the Imshee and when it tried to retreat, she grabbed that enormous front leg and held it. “I don't care how many ships they have or how large they are. I will rip them apart with my hands. Bring me information on how to reach them so I can kill them or I will kill you and take your ship and figure out how to make this beast fly by myself.”
She turned her back before she lost her temper entirely and did as she threatened. And then she ran. With all the fury in her heart, she ran as fast as she could, leaping over boulders and bounding up the hillside using her hands to claw the dirt as she tried to make it back to the temple as fast as possible.
The other Grandmothers needed to know. The hunters needed to know. If there was one Rownt eggling that walked between the stars, then it was time for the Grandmothers to walk between the stars, and if there was a new boundary to patrol, there would be Grandmothers to patrol it.
Walking a Larger Border Part Three
Liam waited to see if the eldest Grandmother would add anything to the story, but she remained silent. “Did the Rownt rescue any of the egglings?” he finally asked. He assumed that the Imshee had told the truth about the kidnapped children because lying to a Rownt about children was equivalent to committing suicide with a spoon. It would be so slow and painful that one would have time to regret one’s life choices before dying. Rownt were so protective of their young that Liam had never even seen a glimpse of an eggling on the Calti. He wondered if he should have been offended that the parents didn’t trust a human to even look at their offspring.
“Only two,” she said, and again there was a long pause. She paled, even the memory disturbing her enough that she couldn't control her emotions. “There were too many deaths.”
“Were you on those ships?” Liam asked. Considering that Rownt Grandmothers could live a millennia, it seemed possible.
“I was not born when this happened. I grew up hearing stories of it, warnings that one had to approach aliens carefully, because what was logical to Rownt was not always logical to others. For example, the Cy believed that it was logical to dispose of Rownt.” She grew even paler.
“‘Dispose’?” Liam did not like how that sounded. He might not have the same instinctive drive as the Rownt, but he had a very human distaste for anyone who would harm children, and it sounded like these Cy had.
“The first ship we attacked, the Imshee brought their ship to the hull of the Cy, and Rownt entered. We were determined to search every place a youngling might be secreted, and we did much damage to the ship before deciding that there were no younglings.”
Liam waited, sensing that the story was not done. The Grandmothers rarely spoke about the Cy, and if they did, they said that they were antisocial, that they were an ancient species that had retreated to the corners of the universe that few others went. Rownt had gotten folded space technology from a Cy trade, but after this story, Liam was surprised Rownt didn’t hunt down every Cy in existence and kill them. The Rownt inability to declare war had saved those assholes from extinction.
However, for the most part Rownt were happy to ignore the existence of Cy. But now that humans, or one faction of humanity, had claimed a Cy ship, the Grandmothers had become more vocal. Liam wondered if they wanted him and Ondry to trade information back to the human authorities.
“When we approached the next Cy ship,” the Grandmother continued, “they decided that the logical course of action was to ensure that there were no younglings on the ship. They believed that would stop us from searching.” She took a breath. “The Cy spaced adults and younglings together, and we were unable to retrieve them before the vacuum of space had killed them.” The Grandmother had grown so pale that even Liam's skin was darker. This was the look of a Grandmother who was homicidally angry.
“Oh God,” Liam whispered in horror. He couldn’t imagine the pain and terror those Rownt had suffered. And for parents to watch their younglings gasp and freeze and die and be helpless to protect them. Now Liam wanted to hunt down the Cy and kill them.
The Grandmother showed her fangs. “They learned to regret that decision,” she said with grim amusement. Liam could imagine. The storyscrolls were full of tales of righteous anger from Grandmothers defending the young. In fact, if Liam ever wanted to guarantee death, he would hurt a Rownt youngling. The bloodbath that would follow would ensure no survival.
After stretching her nostrils back out to normal shape and shaking out her arms, the Grandmother continued. “After that, if we could board the ship, we generally found any Rownt very near the place where the hull had breached. The Cy learned not to touch our younglings, and we learned that the Cy would go to any length to protect their great ships.”
“Their ships?” Liam had assumed the Cy had been protecting themselves, not ships. That didn’t make sense, and he'd grown used to being able to twist his brain sideways to consider the universe from a different angle. “I don’t understand.”
The Grandmother’s continued pallor spoke of her own struggle to control her anger. Liam wondered how many generations back this had happened. Certainly the Rownt were comfortable in space now, but he didn’t know how many generations that had taken.
A memory tickled the back of Liam’s mind. The Grandmother on Prarownt who had first named Ondry tuk-status had said that her Grandmother had stood in the temple when Imshee arrived, but given the lifespan of Rownt and the ability of Grandmothers to lay eggs up to the day their bones finally crushed their internal organs, that might have been over two thousand years ago.
“For the Cy, their ship is not a tool. Their great ships are living creatures, inherited generation to generation and beloved. According to the Imshee, Cy are raised on a ship and have the ship's voice in their head from the time they are very young, so they feel about a ship
the way we feel about a youngling.”
That was odd, but then aliens often were, Liam had learned. He had also learned that many lied. “Do you believe the Imshee?”
The Grandmother took a long time to answer, and for a moment, Liam feared that he had offended her. But she tilted her head and said, “I do not automatically believe anything an Imshee says. They view the world in a way that is very odd to me.” The skin around her eyes tightened in amusement. “But then humans are equally odd.”
“We are.” Liam was not about to defend his own species. He had recovered from his bout of anti-humanity bias, but humans were no saner than the rest of the universe, and the rest of the universe was some variety of crazy. Even his beloved Rownt had a good deal of insanity going for them, which apparently the Cy had discovered the hard way.
“The Rownt who were on those ships reported the Cy defended the walls. Those ships gave the Cy power over the universe for many millennia. The Imshee developed the technology to challenge the Cy, but the Imshee did not possess the strength or the willingness to battle the way Rownt do. They put their faith in technological war. She had to use the human word for that concept and her tail twitched as she said it. Clearly she considered “war” a synonym for insane. She was probably right, but then Rownt had their own version of insanity, and defining battle ending only when everyone was dead or too broken to continue was also a form of insanity.
“Why did you stay in space once you rescued your younglings?” Liam asked.
In storyscrolls, once a battle was won or a quest finished, the Rownt went back to life as it had been before. Hell, when humans had first found Rownt, they’d assumed the species was pre-industrial because they lived such simple lives, but it turned out that generation after generation of Rownt had chosen not to change, even when technology was available.
“What guarantee did we have that we had retrieved all our younglings,” she asked, “and what guarantee did we have that the Cy would not take more? The Imshee built too quickly. They showed us how their ships were made; they built to last two or three hundred years. That is less than the lifespan of a Rownt. We needed to make sure that there were better ships. Our technology might not be as advanced as the Imshee, but Cy retreat in the face of a Rownt ship the way they do not when they see Imshee. Knowing that, it gave us comfort to know that we could patrol our borders.” She said the last with great satisfaction. “The Calti was the first ship Rownt built for ourselves, the first time we took Imshee technology and improved it to meet Rownt standards.”