“It’s a very primitive settlement,” Grace said, as she walked forward. Joelle sensed, rather than saw, her wrinkling her nose. “It’s covered in mud.”
“I think this isn't meant to be a permanent settlement,” Joelle said. The Vesy knew how to work stone, after all; she’d seen images of their giant stone cities. “They just wanted to build a settlement as quickly as possible, so they built it out of wood. It isn't as if there is a shortage of wood on the surface.”
Grace sniffed. “We could show them something better,” she said. “Couldn’t we?”
“Probably,” Joelle said.
She turned her head and blinked in shock. The Vesy were staring at her, staring with an intensity that chilled her to the bone. It was such a penetrating stare that she felt naked, even though she'd worn a light suit that covered everything, save for her hands and face. She’d even donned a hat to keep the sun off her head. The Vesy might be primitive, she reminded herself savagely, but they’d seen humans die. They knew humans weren't gods.
And that will make them more dangerous across the negotiating table, she thought, as she saw a uniformed officer emerging from the gates of Fort Knight. They will drive a hard bargain.
“Ambassador,” the officer said. “I’m ... ah, Lieutenant Schneider, Royal Marines. I have been charged with showing you the fort and escorting you to meet with Ivan, the local alien ruler.”
Grace stepped forward. “Do you have to use the Russian names for them?”
“Their names are unpronounceable,” Schneider said. He didn't quite say that such details had been included in the briefing notes, but Joelle was sure he wanted to say it. “We decided to stick with the Russian names until we obtained better translations.”
“You wrote most of the reports,” Joelle said, as she allowed Schneider to lead them towards the fort. “I read them with great interest.”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Schneider said.
They stepped through the gates and into the fort itself. It was larger than Joelle had realised, with a number of low barracks and a handful of prefabricated buildings from Earth, all patrolled by men in jungle camouflage uniforms. The Union Jack flew over the main building, but the Stars and Stripes dominated another and the French Tricolour flew over a third.
“We gave one barrack hall to the Americans and one to the French,” Schneider explained, as they walked past the barracks. “The smaller groups have been allocated space in a communal building and told to behave themselves, basically. We’ve been running language and alien culture lessons for them in the hopes of avoiding problems.”
Grace coughed. “Do you know enough to avoid cultural misunderstandings?”
“Not enough,” Schneider said. “They’re egg-layers; anything connected to their eggs and hatching is pretty much a berserk button for them. The concept of bastardry seems completely alien to them - I think it’s because they recognise family members by scent - but we’ve been warned not to even suggest that someone did something to the eggs before they hatched. Other than that ... they do have religions, which they’re reluctant to discuss, so I would advise you not to raise the subject with them.”
“That doesn't seem very specific,” Grace pointed out.
“As far as we can tell, we have contact with twelve or thirteen city-states, some of which were badly mangled by the God-King,” Percy said. “That’s a tiny percentage of the planet’s population, all from an area smaller than England. It’s quite possible that there are cultures on the other side of the world that are very different; we just don’t know about it, yet. It will take years to properly survey the entire world.”
He shrugged. “For us, giving someone the thumbs up is a good thing,” he added. “In the Middle East, it’s insulting. What’s taboo in this part of the world may be enthusiastically practiced in a different part of the world.”
Joelle nodded in understanding. Dealing with cultural differences hadn’t been considered a priority since the Age of Unrest - few people cared to honour customs they regarded as brutal, barbaric and inhuman - but it could be important during talks with Japan, China or even Russia. A Japanese negotiating team might be led by someone who never said a word, even during high-level discussions, while the Chinese were quite happy to have the talks stretch out over weeks if necessary. And the Russians could be quite reasonable as long as they believed that no one was going to give them an inch, let alone a mile.
The rest of the tour proceeded quickly. Joelle was impressed, all the more so when she saw hundreds of Vesy working on the next set of barracks on the far side of the fort. The walls would have to be expanded to provide cover, she suspected, but Fort Knight was already taking on the characteristics of a minor town. It wouldn't be long before more prefabricated buildings were brought down from orbit and used to expand the facilities still further.
“Tell me something,” she said. “How secure is the base?”
Schneider hesitated. “We have rules against allowing the aliens into the base without an escort, all the more so now as we have the firepower to back it up,” he said. “However, if they attacked in force, we would probably be overwhelmed without orbital firepower to even the odds.”
He paused, again. “We haven't been able to run coordinated bug sweeps yet, however,” he added. “I imagine that various intelligence parties are already trying to pick up what they can from us.”
Joelle nodded. “The conference rooms will need to be swept regularly,” she said. “For what time did you organise the meeting with the alien ambassador?”
Schneider glanced at his wristcom. “It is due to take place in two hours,” he said. “Do you want to freshen up first?”
“Yes, please,” Joelle said. Sweat was already running down her back. “Show me to my quarters, if you please. I can sort through the briefing notes and update my plans.”
Grace gave Schneider a long look. “What do you make of them? The aliens, I mean, when you talked to them?”
“Don’t expect them to have any patience with evasive speech,” Schneider said, after a moment. “They are plain blunt men, as far as I can tell. They won’t tolerate anyone trying to string them along.”
Joelle nodded. It was something to bear in mind.
She hadn't expected much from the quarters and she wasn't disappointed. Her suite was nothing more than a pair of rooms, a makeshift shower and a couple of pieces of alien designed and built furniture. Grace grumbled when she saw the shower, which made Joelle smile; her aide had never lived or worked away from civilisation for a day, let alone a long-term assignment to another country. Poor showers weren't bad, not compared to howling mobs intent on looting, raping and murdering western ambassadors. She washed herself quickly under the lukewarm water, then hastily reread the briefing notes while Grace took a shower herself. There was nothing new there, save for a warning that the Indians might be making all sorts of deals with the Vesy and no one had any idea what they might be.
And that is the question, Joelle thought, as she changed into new clothes. What are the Indians offering that we will have to match?
Schneider returned, when the time came, and led her towards the conference building outside the walls. Joelle considered arranging to have something lighter than a heavy suit in future - it was unlikely the Vesy would care if she wore shorts and a t-shirt instead of the suit - and then pushed the thought aside as Schneider escorted her into the conference room. An alien, a real live alien, was standing in front of a table, peering at her. Joelle heard Grace gasp behind her, even though they’d seen aliens before when the shuttle landed. Up close, the alien smelled faintly odd, a scent that reminded her of a heady perfume. It made her think of weekends in the countryside when she'd been a little girl, down on the farm with her relatives and their small collection of animals.
And you hated it when you realised that Harry Pooper had been slaughtered, then turned into the pork roast you had for dinner, she thought, as she bowed to the alien. The memory was so strong it almost ov
erpowered her. How long did it take you to go back to the farm after you discovered the truth?
“I greet you,” she said, in English. She could speak Russian, if necessary, but she would prefer to use English. “I am Ambassador Joelle Richardson. I speak for my people.”
“I am Ivan,” the alien replied, also in English. There was definitely an accent, but he spoke English better than she’d expected. “I speak for my people.”
Joelle hesitated, then sat facing him. Grace stood behind her; Schneider, after exchanging a wave with the alien, left the room. The alien didn't sit; the briefing notes had made it clear that they preferred to stand, even where a human would have seen someone looming over them as a threat. Their body language was still largely a mystery ... Joelle forced herself to remember, again, that she wasn't dealing with a human wearing a funny suit. The Vesy might look closer to human than the Tadpoles, but they were still alien.
“I must be curt,” the alien said. There were faint intonations in his flat voice, but it was impossible to tell what, if anything, they meant. “I speak with authority to make agreements on behalf of my people. Do you speak with the same authority?”
“Within certain limits, yes,” Joelle said.
“That is unacceptable,” Ivan said. “Do you or do you not have authority to speak on behalf of your people?”
Joelle took a moment to compose an answer. “I have authority to make agreements with you, within certain limits,” she said. “As long as those limits are not infringed, I can make binding agreements on their behalf.”
She frowned inwardly, mind racing. The aliens had accepted then-Corporal Schneider’s status as the man in charge, but they’d also understood that he had no power to make long-term agreements with anyone. Now, with a genuine Ambassador on the spot, they clearly expected substantial discussions. And with the Indians up to something, only a few hundred miles away, they had good reason to want to move fast.
Perhaps it would have been better, she thought, not to discuss the possibility of limits at all.
“I will accept that, for the moment,” Ivan said. The beady eyes winked at her. “I have been given to understand that your race is unfailingly polite, when discussing matters between two separate” - he paused for a long moment - “nations. Is that correct?”
“Largely so,” Joelle said. The Vesy didn't really have a concept of nations, or anything greater than the city-states. That would probably change soon, with or without human intervention. “We believe it helps prevent disagreements that become wars.”
“That is not our way,” Ivan said. “We believe that it is better for requests and demands to be stated clearly, without room for misunderstandings. Our” - he used a word in his own language - “speak bluntly.”
While carrying a big stick, Joelle guessed. Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise, even without Schneider’s warnings. The Romans and Greeks hadn't been big fans of diplomacy either, at least not when they held the upper hand. The word he used must mean something akin to a diplomat.
“That would be acceptable,” Joelle said. She’d been called all sorts of nasty things at diplomatic meetings and never lost her cool. It helped that she'd known she was backed by one of the largest sticks in the known universe. “You may speak bluntly.”
“We have seen what your ... technology can do,” Ivan said. “We have seen you, and the Russians, deploy weapons that dominate the battlefield. We have seen your medics heal wounds and repair damage that should have killed the victim. We have seen that you have so much we want. We want it.”
Joelle hesitated, then nodded. “What do you want, precisely?”
“Weapons, medicine and tools,” Ivan said.
His beady eyes met hers. “We allied with your people when they first arrived on the planet,” he added. “However, the existence of other human ... nations has changed the balance of power. We must obtain technology from you or seek it from others.”
And that, Joelle knew, was a very blunt statement. She understood Ivan’s dilemma; if they stayed loyal to the British, city-states that signed up with other nations might start considering them potential targets ... and if they failed to obtain any modern weapons, they would be slaughtered by their opponents. It had been a long time since she’d studied the complexities of North American diplomacy, in the days before the American Revolution, but she suspected her current situation had more in common with the early colonial settlements than she cared to admit. If she didn't keep the aliens on her side, through bribes and gifts, they would go to the other human powers.
But the Professor is right, she thought. Introducing new technology will disrupt their society beyond repair.
“We can provide you with technology,” she said, slowly. She did have considerable room to manoeuvre over precisely what she sent to them. “However, I should warn you that you might find that introducing something new may do serious damage to your society.”
“So will being crushed by another city-state armed with your weapons,” Ivan pointed out. It was hard to be sure, but she had the feeling the alien was laughing at her. “It would destroy our society.”
He was right, she knew. She’d seen the images from Warspite’s first visit to Vesy, when the God-King’s rapid expansion had shattered into ruin. He’d enslaved entire populations, including Ivan’s home city; now, it was sheer luck that enough of the slaves had survived to start a new city. Conquest didn't mean a few hundred dead, not now; it meant death or slavery for hundreds of thousands of aliens. Ivan’s new city might die as easily as the old.
Ivan cleared his throat. “There is no longer any choice for us,” he said. “Supply us with weapons and technology or we must go elsewhere. Our spies report that your rivals have already begun arming their new allies, giving them weapons we cannot match. Help us or lose us.”
Joelle heard Grace cough behind her. She knew what was going through the idealist’s head; there was no reason, no matter the situation, to add human weapons to an already poisonous stew. But cold practicality worked against them. She could not afford to gain a reputation for abandoning her allies, not on a planet where they needed alien allies. God knew a reputation for being a flaky ally had plagued the United States throughout the Age of Unrest, when it had needed allies more than ever before.
“We will supply you with weapons, if you wish,” she said, finally. She knew she needed to confer with her diplomatic staff as well as Captain Naiser and Lieutenant-Colonel Boone, but she had a feeling that the Vesy would not accept any more delays. Time was not on their side. “However, we will want some other concessions in exchange.”
Ivan rocked back, slightly. “Name your price,” he said.
Joelle smiled to herself, despite her growing concern, and then started to negotiate. There was a wish list, after all; permission to explore alien territory, permission to learn about the alien culture, detailed intelligence reports on the neighbouring city-states ... the list went on and on, covering all kinds of topics. It might be interesting, she thought, to see just how much Ivan was prepared to concede.
But when he conceded almost everything by the time the meeting reached its end, she realised that the alien wasn't just nervous, he was desperate. And that, she was sure, spelt trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
“They refused to consider an exclusive agreement,” Ambassador Joelle Richardson said, through the communications link. “Other than that ... they agreed to whatever we wanted.”
John frowned. “Everything?”
“Yes, Captain,” Joelle said. “We now have a whole series of rights. Our people can visit their city-state, if we like; we can speak to their people and carry out research into their culture and society. But it all comes at the price of fuelling the local arms race.”
“I'm not surprised,” John said. He remembered meeting Ivan, after the attack on the Russian base. The alien had struck him as ruthlessly pragmatic - and quick-thinking, willing to ally with the British newcomers to fight the Russians. “They do
n't have much choice.”
Joelle’s eyes narrowed. “Do you agree with them, Captain?”
John took a moment to consider his answer. “There are times when the niceties must be thrown out of the airlock,” he said. “For us, and I imagine for them, survival comes first, always. They need our weapons to survive. If they don’t get their hands on them, Ambassador, they will be overwhelmed by those who do.”
“And if we refuse to supply them, they will turn to other powers,” Joelle said, slowly. “It doesn't seem right, somehow.”
“Professor Nordstrom believes that our involvement will destroy their culture,” John said. “Your aide believes that we have a moral right to assist them in improving their culture. But the aliens don’t have time to worry about the long-term, not now. They need to worry about staying alive and relatively free.”
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