by Ann Leckie
“I thank you for your patience, Ambassador,” said Garal. “And Captain Uisine will be pleased to hear you’ve recognized his status as human.”
“Yes,” whistled the ambassador. “Yes. I had not believed he would be, but I think now he will. Ingray Human, I have caused you some trouble. I have broken the treaty by assaulting your clutchmate, the brother Danach.”
Beside Ingray on the bench, Garal turned to stare at Ingray. “What?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Ingray. “It doesn’t matter right now. Ambassador, you didn’t hurt him, and everything came out fine. I took him home, and all of that is straightened out now.”
“Still,” replied the ambassador. “I should not have done these things. And I admit to you that I am not glad that the brother Danach was not hurt, but I should still not have done it. I have thought since then, and I have not done well. I have not. I have done things I should not have done. I must say to you, I apologize, Ingray Aughskold. Those are the words. I say them.”
Silence. The water in the pool still sloshed, little waves breaking at Ingray and Garal’s feet and against the once-again-darker-green blob, as the rest of the ambassador moved under the water. Or Ingray assumed so, she couldn’t quite see what the rest of the ambassador looked like, or how much of her there might be. “It’s all right, Ambassador,” Ingray said after a moment.
“It is not all right,” insisted the green blob. “It is not. I will tell you a thing. I will tell you. When humans first appeared, many things died. So much died, and the humans were bad to eat. Many wished to remove them, but some said, no, they are very strange and things die all around them, but they are like people in some way. And they have come here to live, how could they live outside the world? Nothing could. Imagine being outside the world, it is a terrible thing. Do we kill these strange, so very strange maybe-people for that? When we might instead help them live? And so we changed them, and now things do not die all around them, and they can live in the world.”
“Most of them,” Garal said.
“Be more patient, Garal Ket,” said the ambassador. “This is the next thing I am going to say. The change is not perfect, and some cannot live in the world. But this is the way of eggs, and hatchlings, is it not? One spawns thousands upon thousands, but only a few survive. I myself, my clutchmates numbered in the thousands on the day I hatched. Hundreds, days later, and only twelve of us lived to maturity, and of those two failed to swim down.”
“That’s … not how it works for humans, Ambassador,” said Ingray.
“No,” the ambassador agreed. “It cannot work this way for humans. It could not. For years human hatchlings must be cared for, carefully attended, fed, taught, before they can swim with a clutch. And long before then the hatchlings you have cared for might as well be your own clutchmates. Perverse, yes. But so it is with humans. You cannot abandon your own clutchmates to death, or leave them to be eaten. A hatchling that thinks only of its own survival makes an untrustworthy adult, and if every hatchling behaved so, far too few would survive.
“The change was not perfect, and because of this some human hatchlings cannot stay. But they are clutchmates. They cannot stay, but they cannot be sent out of the world. Who does this to a clutchmate? But the humans had built a place on the edge of the world, and in this place those hatchlings can live, and even be useful.”
“Tic’s gills didn’t come in,” observed Garal. “He told us that.”
“I have done a wrong thing,” said the ambassador. “I must say to Tic Uisine, I apologize, Tic Uisine.” The ambassador fell silent then, only the sound of the water echoing off the room’s smooth walls.
“What did you do?” asked Ingray finally.
“One of my clutchmates who survived to swim down with me,” said the ambassador, “was Geck human. His daughter is Tic Uisine’s mother. She is not a clutchmate of mine, but she is like a clutchmate to my clutchmate. Do you understand? Even though she is not my clutchmate, even though she has her own clutch, a different one, still I feel that. My clutchmate is a human and I cannot help but love his daughter, because he does. And humans cannot help but grieve for their hatchlings, when they do not survive, and so when her hatchlings failed to survive swimming down, every one, I could not help but grieve with her. Do you understand? We changed the humans so they could live in the world, and now the humans have changed us. I do not know if we should have let them stay in the world. I do not. But oh, she grieved, once, twice, three times. Do you understand? If her hatchlings had not been able to swim down they would have been sent to the edge of the world. If her hatchlings had gone to the edge of the world, at least they would be alive and she might not grieve so much. I saw from the day she showed Tic to me that he would never survive swimming down. He would be like the rest. Do you understand?”
“No,” admitted Ingray, horrified by what she was hearing, though she hadn’t really understood any of it. Frightened, though she wasn’t sure why. “I don’t understand.”
“You did it,” said Garal. “Somehow you made it so that Tic’s gills didn’t come in.”
“I did it,” agreed the ambassador. “I did a wrong thing, but if I had not done it, Tic Uisine would not have survived swimming down. If I had allowed him to swim down, he would be dead. I did the thing I did so that at least he could be alive and in the world. But then he stole ships and left the world. It was like him to do such a thing. It was not like Geck to do such a thing. He would not have survived swimming down. No. He would not.” Silence. Then, “His mother grieved. My clutchmate grieved. What can live outside the world? There are creatures that live outside the world, but they must be creatures of endless sorrow and pain and death. The conclave before, I went, and did what was needed, and returned to the world. I did not want to be outside the world at all, but to keep the aliens away I must do so. I returned to the world as quickly as could be. I thought to do so again, this time. But we saw our ship, and I thought to myself that Tic Uisine might be there, and it might be that I could bring him back, and he would not be any longer in endless pain and suffering because he would be in the world again, and his mother would cease to grieve. But Tic Uisine was always headstrong. Always! From a larva he was headstrong.” The blob paled again, pulled itself under the water, and then oozed back up onto the margin of the pool, water streaming off it. “Perhaps I am headstrong as well. A bit.”
“A bit,” agreed Ingray, when the ambassador seemed to pause for some response. Garal said nothing, and Ingray thought it might be better if she didn’t look to see eir expression.
“Yes,” agreed the ambassador. “I followed him here. It may be that in pain and suffering, surrounded with sorrow and death, he does not act as he should. And it is the wrong thing that I have done that has caused this. So I follow. I am afraid, I do not want to be out of the world, it is terrible to be out of the world. But I look, I see. I hear, I listen. You are very strange, Ingray Human, but you do not seem to live in endless pain and sorrow. No, you swim here as though this were the world, and live your very strange life as though all was right and well. And I think to myself, is this not where the humans came from? They hatched outside the world; this is their home water. The hatchlings at the edge of the world, do we do a wrong thing, to keep them?”
“I imagine,” said Garal, then, “that many of them are quite happy there. It is their home, after all.”
“But not all are happy, Garal Ket,” said the ambassador. “Not all. And until now I could not think that thought, that anyone could wish to be outside the world. But now I think it. And so I talk to you. I have a thing to say to Tic Uisine, but I think he will not agree to speak to me. And you, Garal Ket, and Ingray Aughskold, you are friends of Tic Uisine. Will you say to him that if he truly wishes to leave the Geck, then I acknowledge his human citizenship, and no longer claim he is subject to the Geck? Will you say to him that I apologize? Will you say to him that he can come back to the edge of the world if he wishes, even if he is not Geck, and that I do
not care about the ships, only that he is well? That if he is happy and well outside the world, I will be happy for that, and I will tell his mother that even though he is outside the world, he is well, and he swims in waters better suited to him, and has friends, and she will try to cease to grieve? Will you say this to Tic Uisine?”
“I …” Ingray stopped, not sure what to answer. “I think it would be best if you said this yourself, Ambassador. But maybe he won’t want to talk to you at all, and …” She faltered. And I couldn’t blame him for that. There was no diplomatic way to say it.
“I would not want to talk to me at all,” said the ambassador.
“So you say you’ll leave him alone,” Ingray said, emboldened by the ambassador’s frankness, “but you won’t leave him alone. You’ll just ask us to chase him for you. I think you should send what you just said in a message to him, and he can listen to it or not. And then just leave him alone, unless he says he wants to talk to you.”
Silence. Ingray realized that she was clutching at a handful of her already creased and grubby skirts, still tucked up from being in the suit. And, she realized, she was exhausted. And hungry. And she needed a bath. She’d left her hairpins with the vacuum suit; she’d been so miserable and so relieved to be free of it. Garal, quiet beside her, was very likely in similar shape, though she knew em well enough by now to know e’d never give any sign of it if e could help it.
The ambassador said, “I do not like to hear this, Ingray Human. But I will think about it. I will think. Garal Ket, you are Geck. If you wish to stay outside the world, you may. I will have to explain it somehow, back in the world, and there is no way to think about doing that, but we will have to think about doing that, for the sake of the hatchlings at the edge of the world.”
“Thank you, Ambassador,” e said.
“But do not break the treaty!” insisted the ambassador. “You must study the treaty, and never break it. The treaty keeps aliens out of the world. Ingray Aughskold, I do not understand what is happening on this station, but I think it would not be safe for you to leave the ship at this moment. There is food and water here that is safe for you to eat and drink. There are places for you to sleep. I will think. Later we will talk again.” And the green blob pulled itself back into the water, and was gone.
15
A spider mech showed them to a room where one or two of the ridges rising out of the floor seemed somewhat tablelike, and then scurried off—not quite as gracefully as Tic would have, but far more so than the ambassador. A few moments later it returned with three of its arms full of packets and dumped them on a table. “Here is food,” the spider mech whistled.
“Thank you.” Garal seemed far more self-possessed than Ingray thought possible. “Is there hot water somewhere?”
“You’re going to eat?” asked Ingray, exhausted and incredulous. The spider mech gestured vaguely toward one end of the room, and left. “With everything that’s going on?”
“There’s food here now,” said Garal. “Everything will be going on whether we eat or not. And it’s easier to think things through when you’re not hungry and thirsty.”
Ingray frowned, and opened her mouth to argue, but then she remembered Garal on the trip to Hwae, saving food. Talking about how difficult it could be to get something to eat in Compassionate Removal.
“You haven’t eaten in way too long,” Garal said.
She didn’t trust herself to answer but went to the back of the room, in the direction the spider mech had indicated. She found a niche in the wall with a basin of body-warm water in it. Gingerly, she scooped up a small handful and tasted it.
“It’s plain warm water.” Ambassador Tibanvori’s voice. Ingray turned to see her come into the room. “They won’t make anything hotter, even if you ask.”
“What do they eat, then?” asked Garal, sitting down on an extrusion beside the table.
“Raw things,” Tibanvori said, with utter disgust. “Or rotted ones.” She gestured at the packets on the table. “This is your kind of food, though. We took it on board at Tyr Siilas. I have no idea what any of it is.”
“Nutrient blocks,” said Ingray. “Those are mostly yeast with flavors.” Ambassador Tibanvori wrinkled her nose.
“Noodles,” Garal added. “You add hot water to them. I guess warm water will do.”
“It won’t,” said Tibanvori with disdain, sitting down next to Garal.
“And there’s serbat.” Garal looked over at Ingray. “Instant serbat.”
“I could do with some serbat,” Ingray said. “Are there any cups or bowls or …” She trailed off, unable to quite complete the thought.
“Touch the wall above the basin,” said Tibanvori. Ingray did, and the surface of the wall contracted away from her fingers, exposing a cavity underneath that held a stack of shallow bowls, some small cups, and a few large, deep spoons.
“It’s disgusting, isn’t it,” said Tibanvori, behind her, and she had to agree at the very least that there was something disturbing about the way the wall had reacted, how it felt. Like a muscle, or at least something biological, not a nice, solid, dependable wall. Tibanvori continued. “Those spoons are only for scooping up water. They eat with their fingers.” She shuddered. “What’s serbat?”
“It’s a hot drink,” Garal said. “It’s serbat.”
Ambassador Tibanvori gave em a sideways, disapproving look and then sighed, rose, and came over to where Ingray stood. “Here.” She took a stack of bowls and cups out of the cavity and handed them to Ingray, then scooped a few cupfuls of warm water out of the basin. “Whatever serbat is, it can’t be worse than poick. The salt water I was telling you about before,” she added, to Ingray and Garal’s exhausted incomprehension. “The noodles you just have to let sit longer. I don’t know about the sort you’re used to, the ones I’ve had are generally not very good cold, but it’s better than live sea worms or algae paste.”
“I like algae paste,” said Ingray, following Tibanvori back to the table. “And I like fish, cooked or not. I don’t know about worms, though.”
“Trust me, they’re horrible.” Tibanvori took the dishes out of Ingray’s hands. “Sit down.” Brusquely, but, Ingray realized, she had been standing there clutching the stack of bowls, unable to form any idea of what to do with them.
“I’m sorry,” Ingray said. “I’m very tired.”
“Apparently,” Tibanvori agreed, tearing open a serbat packet and peering at the contents. “You mix this with water, I take it?”
“Yes,” Garal agreed, as Ingray sat. And stared as Tibanvori poured lukewarm water onto noodles, and into cups of serbat powder.
“And I need to know what’s happening on the station,” said Ingray.
“Not bad,” the Radchaai ambassador said, after a sip of warmish serbat. She sat at the table. “Not tea, but not bad. I wonder if I can get some of this shipped back to the Geck homeworld. Tea is hopeless when you can’t get hot water. Real tea, the way it should be drunk, I mean.”
“I need to know what’s happening on the station,” said Ingray again. She blinked open her messages, but she was too tired to make much sense out of what she saw. Nothing from Netano at any rate, and nothing from Nuncle Lak. She sent them both a brief, barely coherent message asking for whatever information either of them had.
“Whatever’s happening on the station doesn’t concern us,” Tibanvori said. “Your friend is right, you should eat something. And then see if you can find some news, I suppose. And get some sleep. Though I’m sorry to say there’s nothing like civilized sleeping quarters here. These people, the ones who live in orbit, they generally just lie down on the ground wherever they are. This room”—she gestured around with the cup of serbat still in her hand—“is a concession to foreign habits. Even the Geck humans on the station generally eat squatting or standing. Though I guess you don’t need anything like comfort or manners when you’re just shoveling slimy animals into your mouth with your bare hands.”
“I can’t
imagine why the Geck ambassador doesn’t like you,” Garal said.
Tibanvori made a sharp, sardonic hah. “Well, I don’t much like her, if it comes to that.”
Ingray sat, and took her own cup of lukewarm serbat. She would know when Nuncle Lak’s reply came. There wasn’t much else she could do right now anyway. “Then why are you still the human ambassador?”
“The people who appointed me were not friends of mine. Or my family’s. We have a figure of speech, I don’t know if you have it.” She took another swallow of serbat and used the spoon handle to poke experimentally at a bowl of slowly rehydrating noodles. “Ah, this may be it—kicked upstairs. Being the representative of all humans to an entire alien race may sound important, but not when that alien race is the Geck. They care nothing about what goes on away from their own planet, and only pay any attention when it’s a matter of keeping the rest of the universe out. They don’t want any communication or really any sort of relationship at all with humans, so there’s nothing to do unless a conclave should happen along, and even then there’s really no point to my office. I don’t need to be at this AI conclave, not really. I had nothing to do at the last one, when the Rrrrrr were admitted to the treaty. I might as well have stayed away this time. I only insisted on coming along because there might be civilized food there. So being ambassador for humans to the Geck may sound like a wonderful opportunity, an important job for the most distinguished and accomplished of diplomats, but in reality it’s just a way of disposing me and my career in the most insulting way possible.”