“Jeez.” Roger leaned his head against the wall.
A few minutes later, Max and Vurzh entered the room. Vurzh carried a long, thin case.
“Look,” said Roger. “I can explain. I just meant—"
“Be maximally quiet,” said Vurzh, his nose-tones still subdued. He opened the case. In it were two black rods, each about three feet long and a half-inch in diameter. “Choose one,” said Vurzh. “Magszh will take the other."
“Wait,” said Roger. “This is just a misunderstanding. I only—"
“Choose!"
Roger lifted a rod from the case. It was lighter than it looked and had a whippy flexibility. Max took out the other rod made a few passes in the air with it.
Roger looked across at Duncan. “Do you have any idea what's going on?"
“I think you've been challenged to a duel."
“What!"
“We go now to prepare the hitting room,” said Vurzh. “We will come back for you soon.” He turned toward the door.
“Wait,” shouted Roger. “Please. Could you have Ingvrau sent down here?"
“As you wish,” said Vurzh.
“It is your right,” said Max.
The two Nriln left and Roger heard the click of the door-lock.
Duncan stretched out on the couch. “Interesting. It's sort of like one of those comic operas you like so much.” He gave a short chuckle. “I wonder if their nose-singing causes their histrionic behavior, or if the behavior is at the root of the singing."
Roger, standing in the middle of the room, stared down at the rod he held. “This isn't funny,” he said. “Getting hit with this thing could really hurt."
“I think that's the general idea."
Roger threw down the rod. It bounced on the springy carpeting. “Well, I'm not playing this game. I'll refuse the challenge."
“Do you think you can get away with that?"
“How the hell should I know?"
“Well,” said Duncan. “You are the Cultural Liaison. You should know these things."
“Junior Cultural Liaison,” said Roger. “And I've only been on Nril for a few Earth-days. I can't be expected to know everything yet.” He stalked over to a chair, sat, and sulked. Things were going dreadfully; he'd twice fouled up a delicate trade negotiation, he shown himself ill prepared for his job, and now he'd just been very rude to his boss. For an instant, Roger wished he were a little kid; then at least, he could cry.
* * * *
Roger was sulking still, when Ingvrau entered the room.
“I hear that you have done it again,” said Ingvrau as he walked up to Roger's chair. “You have favored Magzh with the maximally unspeakable gesture.” Ingvrau spoke with heavy nose-tones, apparently too distraught to speak the written language. “I am beginning to doubt your sanity.” Ingvrau made an eyestalk gesture that Roger didn't comprehend. “I should not have said that about your sanity.” Ingvrau's tones subsided. “It was maximally minus two unprofessional of me."
Roger stood and, making sure his hands were safely in his pockets, tried to speak slowly and rationally. “I'm sorry. The gesture was a mistake. I didn't know it was obscene."
“How could you not know? You are a trade negotiator. You should be at least ten familiar with our culture."
“Ha,” said Duncan from the couch.
Roger shot a glance at him, then appealed to Ingvrau. “Please,” he said. “I don't want to duel. I refuse to accept Max's challenge."
“You must. Otherwise, they will just hold you down and beat you with the stick.” Ingvrau quizzically crossed his eyestalks. “I do assume your species feels pain when beaten. Yes?"
Duncan walked over. “It really was just an innocent mistake,” he said. “Could you perhaps go to Max and offer him our sincere apology? I don't really think there is a need for violence."
Ingvrau didn't answer, but his nose-tones sounded ominous.
“Please,” said Duncan. “For the sake of interstellar understanding as well as commerce."
Ingvrau emitted a warbling set of tones. “Yes. Very well. I will eleven attempt to explain your actions to Magszh.” He walked to the door. “It may take me so-so in the long-short time domain."
* * * *
When next Ingvrau came to the room, Max, still carrying his stick, walked in behind him. He came up to Roger. “The hitting room is ready."
“What?” Roger looked over at Ingvrau.
The Nriln psychiatrist gave a stalk gesture that Roger now recognized as a shrug. “It is out of my hands,” said Ingvrau. “The duel must go on, I maximally fear. One offense, Magszh could overlook, but not two.” Ingvrau shrugged again. “Two strikes and you are out as you AngloTerrans say."
“That's three strikes,” said Roger.
“Really?” said Ingvrau. “How maximally minus one permissive of you."
Duncan, standing off to the side, furrowed his brow and then walked up beside Roger. “Excuse me,” he said, looking at Ingvrau. “How did you know about our sayings? The Delvan-translators certainly didn't tell you that."
“It is our specialty,” said Ingvrau. “Cultural studies. In fact, the Delvan-translators, as you call them, were developed by us Nril. We just licensed—"
“Stop,” said Max, in a rising flurry of tones. “That is secret. Our contract with the Delvans forbids you from talking about this.” He lowered his eyestalks so they flopped down over his face.
“But that doesn't make sense,” said Roger. “The translators all use Delvan, not Nriln as an intermediate language."
Max ignored him. “I have maximally failed in my obligation,” he said to Ingvrau. “I zero know what to do. We are in breach of contract. The Delvans could sue us and get ownership of the technology.” He walked to a far chair and plopped down. Ingvrau went over and appeared to be comforting him.
Duncan turned to Roger. “It does make sense,” he said. “I'd bet the Delvans negotiated an exclusive contract and demanded that Delvan be the intermediary language.” Duncan shook his head. “Damned clever, these Delvans."
“I don't understand."
“Look,” said Duncan. “Everything is translated to Delvan, and then from Delvan to the target language.” Duncan raised a finger. “Except for Delvan."
“I still don't get it."
“With no intermediary language the translation is smooth. Everyone feels it's easy to deal with the Delvans. It's like the Delvans speak a similar language."
Roger thought about it for a moment. “And that must be why the Delvans pretty much give away the translators” He shook his head in wonderment. “There's no competition in translators, and the Delvans can just go and gobble up all the good interstellar trade deals."
“I think,” said Duncan, “that there's more in play for us here than just a Yttrium contract. I've got to verify this.” He walked over to the Nriln. Roger followed.
Duncan glared down at Max. “If it's your technology, then why isn't Nriln the intermediate language?"
Max didn't answer, and Ingvrau turned his eyestalks to stare at his feet.
“Come on,” said Duncan. “You might as well tell us. The cat's out of the bag, now."
Ingvrau looked up, his eyestalks crossed in puzzlement. “It is?” he said. “What bag?"
“And what is a cat?” said Max, his stalks similarly crossed.
Roger laughed. “It's an AngloTerran saying. It means you have nothing more to lose by telling us."
Max turned his stalks toward Ingvrau “Counsel me, Ingvrau. What should I do?"
“We might as well tell them.” Ingvrau cast a glance at Duncan. “Then we can plead that they keep the secret."
“It is our only choice,” said Max. He stood and tromped to the door. “But first I will bring Nriln translators down here for our guests. There is no need for them to put up with those vishnel zhorghanor Delvan devices anymore.” Max opened the door, then swiveled his eyestalks around to look at Roger and Duncan. “I will be back maximally minus three soon.” He
sped out the door.
Roger, Duncan and Ingvrau stood staring awkwardly at each other. Without Max, there really wasn't much to talk about.
“Um. Interesting weather we're having here on Delva,” said Roger.
“It is so-so in the cold-hot domain,” said Ingvrau, “for this time of year."
“That's interesting,” said Duncan, his voice showing an extreme lack of interest.
Max burst back into the room. In his six-fingered hands, he held what looked like two Delvan-translators. “Turn off those zhorghanor Delvan disasters.” Max handed the AngloTerans each a translator. “Ours,” he said, “but in Delvan-translator cases."
While Max walked over to a chair, Duncan and Roger switched them on and popped the buds into their ears.
“I've preset them to AngloTerran,” said Max. “I'm inclined to think you'll find the translations quite acceptable now."
“I say, chaps,” said Ingvrau, This is indeed rather better, yes?"
“Yes,” said Roger, softly, dazed by Ingvrau's new accent.
“Yes, indeed,” said Duncan.
“Very good, then.” Max sat and indicated the others do the same. “Now, I expect, we can hold a reasonable conversation. It's much better without those damn blasted Delvan atrocities."
Roger and Duncan nodded.
“To answer your question.” said Max, “The Delvans demanded of us that their language be used as the intermediate language for the translators."
“But,” said Roger, “why didn't you make translators interpret nose-tones? It's your language, after all."
“We didn't think it appropriate to have the emotional content of our words translated,” said Max. “And in any case, the Delvans didn't particularly desire it either."
“No,” said Roger. “I mean the leaving out of the numeric adjective modifiers."
“We do that, do we?” said Ingvrau.
“Hmm. Perhaps we do, at times,” said Max. “I hadn't really thought about it."
Duncan laughed. “But still, you spoke to us using those tones that we couldn't understand."
“Dear boy,” said Ingvrau. “We weren't about to let the Delvans tell us how to speak our language."
“I'm surprised you had anything to do with them at all,” said Roger.
“The Delvans are superb traders and are good at packaging.” Max dropped his eyestalks. His distress was easy to see. “And they negotiate fiercely.” He sighed. “I'm exceedingly worried. Our home planet can scarcely afford the loss of the Delvan contract monies, not to mention the penalty we're subject to for revealing the secret."
Roger was struck with an idea. He started to raise his hand but stopped in time. “But interstellar law always allows you to confide in your lawyers."
Duncan looked at him, quizzically.
“I'm sorry, old chap,” said Ingvrau. “But I'm not entirely sure what you're driving at."
“There's nothing that says your contract lawyers must be Nriln,” said Roger. He glanced over at Duncan and saw the light of comprehension in his expression—and also a look of admiring approval. Roger smiled.
“My colleague is correct,” said Duncan. “And while your planetary specialty is Cultural Studies, ours is litigation.” He straightened his tie. “I, by the way, happen to be a contract lawyer—an AngloTerran requirement for a trade ambassador. I offer my services."
“Except,” said Roger, “there's that little matter of the duel. I hope my apology will suffice and you'll forgo the bashing with sticks.” Listening to himself speak, Roger felt embarrassed. He had affected the English accent that the Nriln had chosen for their translators.
Max, ignoring Roger, kept his eyes on Duncan. “Do you really think you can find us a, shall we say, loophole in the Delvan contract?"
“Most likely,” said Duncan. “How soon could I have an English language translation of it?"
“Immediately.” Max spoke into his wrist-communicator, then looked up. “Done. It's waiting for us in the conference room."
“That was quick,” said Roger.
“It's rather our specialty,” said Max. “Oh. And apology accepted. I withdraw my challenge to a duel.” He narrowed his eyestalks and peered at Roger. “Friends, yes?"
“Yes,” said Roger.
* * * *
In the conference room, Duncan pored over the contract. Vurzh and Ingvrau sat at the table across from Duncan while Max and Roger peered over Duncan's shoulder.
“What do you think?” said Roger.
“It says the Nriln can't license or sell the technology to any other culture and there's a non-compete clause; The Nriln can't build and sell translators.” Duncan pushed away the contract and sighed. “It looks pretty solid."
“Oh dear,” said Max. “We were afraid of that."
“Wait!” Roger bounded to his feet. “Listen. Is there any reason the Nriln couldn't just give the technology away? To us, for example."
Duncan laughed. “Well, yes. I guess they could do that. But other than for spite, I can't see why they'd want to."
“Nor can I,” said Max. “As enjoyable as it might be, old chap, we do indeed need the revenue."
“Oh, I don't know,” said Roger. “Maybe you might just do it to say ‘thank you’ to a group that contracts to buy all the Yttrium you can produce—at a sale price of say, twenty times the going market rate."
“Roger,” said Duncan. “You're good at this."
Roger, warmed by the rare complement, smiled, and then continued. “And of course we might get you a research grant to create translators for all languages without having to use an intermediary language—especially Delvan."
“Jolly good show,” said Max. “But is this in your power to deliver?"
Roger turned to his colleague.
“Yes,” said Duncan. “My government has granted me wide powers in matters of trade.” He smiled. “But do you have the authority."
“Quite,” said Max.
“Fine.” Duncan leaned back in his chair. “Let's draw up an agreement."
“One moment,” said Vurzh. “This seems a trifle dodgy to me—a bit of a sticky wicket, if you know what I mean."
“What?” said Roger.
“I'm not sure I do know what you mean,” said Duncan.
“I was just wondering,” said Vurzh. “Would this scheme hold up under the scrutiny of the Panstellar Trade Court?"
“Oh, I think so.” Duncan shrugged. “The Delvans will appeal of course, and the litigation and counter litigation could go on for generations. But by then, it won't matter.” He smiled. “But if the court rules against us, then we'll appeal."
Max narrowed his stalks. “Splendid. I'm quite satisfied. Let's do indeed draw up our little agreement."
“But first.” Vurzh stood and stepped back from the table. “As it is our tradition, we must first sing some oratory."
Max and Ingvrau moved to stand beside Vurzh, and the three of them began their rite of custom.
Even though, using the Nriln translators, Roger understood the commentary, he still grimaced. With all the shrieking and squealing, it sounded like a bagpipe band had fallen into a cement mixer. He opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan kicked his ankle.
“Don't say it,” said Duncan, softly. “Don't say a word. And for God sake's, keep your hands in your pockets.” Then he added, “And good work, by the way."
END
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Misunderstanding Twelve Page 2