"You have no weapons at all?" Rob asked, finding that hard to visualize.
Rhrrrkkeet's crest lifted proudly. "We"--the symbol for the Simiu name for their species flashed across his screen--"need no 'weapons.' We have no such instruments, beyond the stun rays used--rarely--to control crowds during natural disasters. We are weapons--the only weapons needed or permitted in the Arena-of-Honor.''
Rob visualized the fighting fangs of the males, and the strength of the aliens'
thick-nailed hands and feet, and knew that an unarmed human would last only seconds against an adult Simiu.
He had a sudden impulse just to get up and leave. There's not going to be any way out of this mess. It only keeps getting worse . . . what the hell are we going to do?
The F.A. had evidently been thinking, too, because she said, "You speak the truth about the physical inequities between our species. It may be possible to persuade Khrekk' that his honor can be restored by a mere ritual-hence meeting."
"What's 'ritual hence'?" Raoul asked.
"I will show you," Rhrrrkkeet' said. "I will direct the images to appear upon your screens."
Mahree tugged on her uncle's sleeve. "I think you should say 'yes,' Uncle Raoul!" she whispered. Her uncle gave her a look that reduced her to silence. All those present in the room turned to look up at the big computer screen in the galley.
It filled with the image of two Simiu, both big, powerful males, approaching each other in a large outdoor enclosure. Each of them squatted down on his haunches, crests rigid with anticipation, teeth bared in the ritual threat-display. Each of them then made a formal speech to the assembled Simiu who watched from the tiered stands. The whole thing reminded Rob eerily of Spartacus, one of his favorite historical films.
Without warning, both Simiu leaped, their movements blurringly fast. They grappled, then rolled over and over, snarling, like a cross between humans wrestling and cats fighting. Then, suddenly, as if by a prearranged signal, the fighters' powerful jaws opened, and they fastened their teeth in the thick fur at each other's throats--
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"That's enough," Raoul said, in a deadly quiet voice. "Turn it off, please."
The First Ambassador stopped the holo-vid. "That is a ritual- hence engagement," she said. "As you can see, there is no danger to the participants."
"I don't see anything of the damn kind!" Raoul growled. "No way will I permit one of my people to walk into your Arena and face something like that!"
"Uncle Raoul, please!" Mahree broke in, jumping up. Hastily, she made the greeting gesture to the F.A. "Tell her yes, please! I'm volunteering to be the honor-vessel! Dhurrrkk' can be the other. He'd never hurt me ... don't you see? It's all stylized, like--like a combat in a ballet!"
Raoul turned to look at his niece. Rob could not see his expression, but whatever she saw on his face made Mahree shrink into herself. "No," said Lamont quietly. "Doc, escort her to her quarters, please."
"Come on, Mahree," Rob said, taking the girl's arm and tugging her toward the door.
As they reached it, he heard the F.A. speak again, and checked his voder for the translation. "Honored CaptainLamont, due to your dependence on weapons for fighting, your people have already lost much honor in the eyes of mine. This refusal, I believe, will complete the disintegration of their respect for humans. Will you not reconsider?"
Rob looked back, only to see Raoul shake his head, his face stern and implacable. "I will not."
Rhrrrkkeet' sat back on her haunches, in the most formal of Simiu stances.
"Then, CaptainLamont"--Rob noticed that she had dropped the "Honored"--"I fear we have no more to say to each other."
Rob started down the corridor, towing Mahree behind him, though she resisted and he knew his grip must be hurting her. "Rob, stop!" she pleaded.
"I can fix this, I know I can! I won't be in any danger, honestly!"
At the doorway to her cabin, he turned to face her, so angry that he had to restrain himself from shaking her. "Shut up, you little idiot! Do you honestly think I'd let you do anything like that, even if Raoul would? My God, Mahree, they bit each other's throats, didn't you see that?"
"Yes!" she shouted back, "but I could wear something thick 122
around my neck so that Dhurrrkk' could give me the ritual bite, and not hurt me. They don't break the skin!"
"So you say," Rob snapped. "Mahree, I'd walk into that damned Arena myself before I'd let you do it--Raoul is right. The entire notion is barbaric!"
"They think we're the barbarians," she cried passionately. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. "Because we use weapons, don't you see?
Nobody's right and nobody's wrong, we're both just different. We have no right to judge each other!"
"Well, if the only thing that will satisfy the Simiu is ripping up one of us for public edification, then I think we have every damned right to refuse. We've bent over backward to apologize, and we're the ones who lost one of our people!"
"You don't understand!" she whispered. A tear broke free and coursed down her face. "The way they look at it, the Simiu are bending over backward to accommodate us!"
"You're right," he said tightly. "I don't understand. I'm not a goddamned barbarian, and if understanding means I have to start thinking like one, you can just forget it!" He paused, breathing hard, then, seeing how she was crying, his expression softened. "Mahree ... kiddo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. Why don't you go lie down? I'll get you something to help you relax. You're overwrought."
"And you," she spat furiously, her voice breaking despite all her efforts, "are an asshole, Rob Gable! You go to hell!"
Mahree stormed into her cabin. Rob stood in the corridor, hearing the lock activate with a final-sounding click.
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CHAPTER 9
Revelations
Dear Diary:
Things are awful. I miss Jerry so much . . . and now the situation with the Simiu has gone from bad to worse. I thought I'd die of frustration when Rhrrrkkeet' suggested a ritual-hence meeting and Uncle Raoul wouldn't even listen. He's acting like a closed-minded idiot . . . and so is Rob!
I can't understand why everyone is being so stubborn. We're in danger of losing this entire First Contact, and nobody seems to care! Uncle Raoul thinks Simiu are barbarians because they solve problems by unarmed combat, and Rhrrrkkeet' thinks humans are barbarians because we use weapons . . .
I don't see any way out of this mess ... it just keeps getting worse. I feel desperate, watching everything crumble around me. I've been having terrible nightmares.
If only I didn't have that honor-bond with Dhurrrkk', so I could tell what I know! Presuming, of course, that Uncle Raoul would listen to me--which he wouldn't, judging by the way he behaved today . . .
Shit!
What's going to happen? What should I do?
"Captain," Yoki said urgently, "the First Ambassador has returned. She's alone, sir, and she's asking to see you."
Raoul raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his officers. "Well, show her in.
Maybe she'll have something to say that will help us make our decision."
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The moment Rhrrrkkeet' entered the Captain's small conference room, Rob was alerted by her drooping crest, her downcast eyes. He recalled that their liaison was nearly forty-five Simiu years old--elderly, as her people reckoned age. Today, for the first time, she looked old as she dispiritedly made the greeting gesture.
"Honored Ambassador," Raoul said, returning her greeting. "I must say that I am surprised to see you."
"Honored Captain"--her translated words marched across Rob's voder screen--"there is no longer any question of Khrekk' regaining his honor. He is dead. Now reparation must be made so that the honor of Khrekk's entire clan can be cleansed."
"Khrekk' is dead?" Raoul shot an I-don't-think-I-want-to-hear- this glance at his officers. "We are very sorry to hear that. Please convey our sympathy to his family. I wish there was something we could do to
help ..."
Rhrrrkkeet's crest drooped even more. "There is no grief to be attached to the demise of one who was so without-honor as to do what Khrekk' has done. And only you and your people, Honored Captain, can aid his unfortunate family, by allowing them to regain their honor.''
Rob took a deep breath. "Honored Rhrrrkkeet' . . ."he said, "may I speak?"
She inclined her head, still gracious despite her anxiety. "Please do so, Honored Healer."
"You said 'what Khrekk' has done' . . . does that mean that he took his own life? He killed himself?" Rob could not conceal his distress at the thought.
She nodded. "That is so. Khrekk' committed the ultimate personal and familial dishonor--when he received the news that CaptainLamont would not allow him to regain his honor by a meeting in our Arena, he entered an airlock on this station, then cycled it. What remained of him was discovered this morning."
Oh, my God . . . Rob felt his stomach turn over. Death by decompression conjured a hideous image. "That's terrible," he mumbled. "We are very sorry."
Rhrrrkkeet's violet eyes were shards of amethyst in her expressionless countenance. "Do not waste sorrow on one-without- honor. Sorrow, rather, for his family, who are now also without-honor. And, unless I may convey your choice of an honor-vessel to my superiors, sorrow for me, and for yourselves,
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for I know that you humans truly wished for beneficial contact between our peoples."
Rob wet his lips. Oh, shit. "Honored Rhrrrkkeet'," he said, "doesn't Khrekk's death end this problem? He's gone, so he can't demand an Arena meeting anymore. If his family needs satisfaction, remind his family that a human is dead, too." An eye for an eye, he thought. That ought to appease them.
The F.A.'s crest dropped even farther. "You do not understand. Khrekk's family is very powerful. His mother is a member of our High Council. She has authority over me. Because Khrekk' killed himself, his dishonor is magnified, and transfers to his family. Their honor must now be cleansed. If you humans do not grant them the chance to redeem their honor . . . things will be very bad."
Raoul hesitated. "Honored Rhrrrkkeet', you know that I honor you. I consider you a ... friend. You have been honest with us, even when the truth brought you discomfort, so I ask you to be honest with us once more. What effect has Khrekk's untimely death and his family's dishonor had on the relations between your people and mine?"
The Simiu fixed them with her enormous violet eyes. "The High Council is divided," she said, dispensing with the polite, formal phrasing for once.
"Many argue that you are not citizens of our world, therefore for you to honor our ways is not something we have a right to expect."
Rob felt a quick surge of excitement. So, we do have some supporters!
"They say that your refusal to enter our Arena is not dishonorable cowardice, merely proof that other worlds have other customs."
Raoul nodded. "They are wise, those leaders. They reason excel ently."
"So do I think, Honored CaptainLamont. But I am only a diplomat. And the leaders I just spoke of are only slightly more than half, which in our Council is not enough to decide matters of this importance
"What does the other faction say?"
Rhrrrkkeet' had to ask her computer link for a translation for the word
"faction." When it came through, she nodded thoughtfully.
That's something we've taught them, Rob found himself thinking. Nodding to express agreement . . .
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"The other faction," the First Ambassador began, "is represented by several Councillors who have always decried involvement with--that is, our hoped-for involvement with--other worlds. They say that our own world is wide, that we have enough to do solving problems on our planet without seeking trouble in the form of aliens from another world."
"Sounds familiar," Raoul muttered grimly, under his breath. "We can understand their point of view, also, Honored Rhrrrkkeet'--it is one that is still prevalent on our world, despite the fact that we have had star travel for over one hundred years." He hesitated, then continued, "Suppose this second faction prevails, Honored Rhrrrkkeet'. What will happen then?''
"I do not know, Honored CaptainLamont," the F.A. responded. "I am doing everything I can to convince the High Council to continue to accept your people as worthy-of-honor. But I do not know whether they will listen to me."
She knows more than she's saying, Rob thought. He glanced at Raoul and whispered: "Don't give up. Push her."
"We realize, Honored Rhrrrkkeet', that you cannot be certain of what the future will hold any more than we can," Raoul said. "But surely you must have an opinion, and it would honor us greatly if you would express it."
A few exchanges were necessary before the F.A. understood "opinion"--or was she stal ing? Rob couldn't be sure.
Finally, she said, "It honors me greatly that you wish to hear my private viewing of what will come. It saddens me to say that, in my opinion, if the second faction is able to sway even a few more Councillors to its view--and the death of Khrekk' may aid them in doing this--then honorable contacts and relations between our peoples will cease, because humans will no longer be regarded as worthy-of-honor."
"Shit," Rob whispered, reading his screen. Impulsively he asked, "In that case, we humans would have no alternative except to leave and not return, is that correct, Honored Rhrrrkkeet'?"
The Simiu hesitated for a split second too long before replying, "I have not had time to fully consider the alternatives, Honored HealerGable."
Rob felt the blood leave his face; cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Rhrrrkkeet's too damned honorable to lie outright to us, he thought, experiencing a sudden flash of insight. But she's
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not telling the truth. The truth is that if this second faction has its way, we won't be permitted to leave.
He knew in his bones that his hunch was right. What could they do to us?
Keep us prisoner? Rip us apart in their damned Arena?
Raoul's good-natured features were drawn; his mouth tightened grimly.
"Honored Rhrrrkkeet', my friend . . . would you, as my friend, advise me to take my vessel and depart before your Council can decide to act?"
The First Ambassador's crest lay absolutely flat against her head and neck.
"Honored CaptainLamont--my friend--I truly do not know whether that option is still possible." She paused, then continued, "I came here today without speaking of my visit to anyone. If you depart, it would become known that I had told you as much as I have, and I would then be required to defend my honor in a death-duel against a professional honor-vessel chosen to represent the Council. But you must do as you must."
Without another word, the Simiu representative turned and left them.
Mahree thrashed impotently as she felt herself drawn irresistibly toward the huge hole in the tunnel wall . . . toward the silent, black void lying beyond it.
With a final gasp, she was sucked out into space. She tried to scream, even as she felt herself ballooning outward, ready to explode in a gush of quick-frozen blood and mangled tissue--
"Ahhhhhh--" she managed to gurgle, and, in so doing, woke herself up.
Oh, God, ohgod . . . just a dream, just a dream, calm down . . . She sat bolt upright in bed, afraid to blink, terrified that closing her eyes would plunge her back into the nightmare.
Mahree shivered. You can't be cold, her mind told her. Ship's temperature is constant. But still she shivered.
Pulling on a robe, she went over to her computer link and signaled the bridge. I'll try talking to Uncle Raoul again. Maybe this time he'll listen.
Azam Quitubi's voice, with its distinctive accent, emerged. "Yes, Mahree?"
"Azam, what are you doing standing watch?"
"After the Ambassador left, your uncle called a meeting with 128
the whole bridge crew and all department heads. So I'm on watch. What can I do for you?"
"Uh . . . nothing. I just wanted to t
ell him that I had that message translated and ready."
"Well, he told me he didn't want to be disturbed, but I'll let him know as soon as they're done, okay?"
"Don't worry about it, I'll tell him myself, tomorrow." She yawned audibly.
"Right now, I'm going to bed. Thanks, Azam."
"Good night, Mahree."
She switched off.
A big meeting, in the middle of night shift? And I'm not invited? Her mouth tightened. We'll see about that.
She pulled on her clothes, then sat back down at the computer link. Five minutes later, Mahree had bypassed the security codes and activated the intercom unit in the conference room. A babble of voices burst out:
"--can you say that? The damned F.A. as good as told Raoul we're prisoners!" The voice was Joan's.
Raoul's voice: "Rhrrrkkeef said herself she doesn't know how their voting is going to go. We can't jump the gun and act out of panic. They may decide not to hold us responsible for Khrekk's suicide."
Mahree's fingers tightened on the edge of the table. Khrekk' committed suicide? Oh, no!
Ray's voice: "But if they do decide to do that, we'll be S.O.L., Captain. We can't afford to take the chance! We should get out now, while we still can!"
Joan: "Ray is right, Raoul. This time your damned wishywashy 'wait and see' bullshit is apt to get us all killed]"
Mahree bit her lip. What the hell is going on?
Raoul's voice was coldly formal: "Do you have a better plan, First Mate?"
"Yes, I do, Captain," Joan said, matching her husband's tone. "I checked before we came down here, and they've got magnetic grapples on Desiree.
They think that's enough to keep us here--but it's not. We can pull free. I can get us out of this cradle, and then we can head at top speed for the edge of their solar system."
Yoki spoke up, sounding shocked: "Without warning them? Pulling loose would cause a huge breach in this station's hull! We'd kill dozens--maybe hundreds--of Simiu!"
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Joan: "So? We've got to look out for ourselves. We can't let them take us prisoner."
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