T his time, there was no game playing like there had been the first time Kris paid an official call on the head of the We clan. Instead of a bumbling Major Domo who tried to lead her on a wild goose chase, Ron greeted her personally.
He immediately ushered Kris to a newly installed Smart MetalTM elevator that whisked her and her key staff up to the penthouse. There would be no stroll through the clan harem this time.
Hidebound though the clan leaders might be, they could learn not to mess with their human allies. Certainly, Roth had learned not to mess with one of those damn Longknifes more than once.
To Kris's surprise. Roth'sum'We'sum'Quin que Chap'sum'We was alone in the pergola located in the center of the garden on the roof of the We clan palace. Next to where he sat in the shade of the small summer house was a pond with a melodic waterfall.
The last time Kris had been here, he had been surrounded by advisors and more junior clan lords. This time, there were only enough cushions for Kris's team arranged in a half circle in front of Roth. A cushion for Ron was at Roth's right hands.
Kris had wanted a different meeting. Apparently, so did Roth.
The humans folded their legs underneath themselves and sat.
Roth coughed out a small hairball of a laugh. "No matter how many times I see you humans sit down with your two legs, I cannot but be amazed that you manage to do it without falling over."
Beside Roth, Ron settled his own four-legged, eight knee body on the much larger cushion reserved for him.
Kris smiled. "We share this amazement with you. I always expect your Chosen One to fall flat on his face as he seats himself on his cushion."
"Is that why you have cobbled together those stools you have shown us on your ships?" Roth replied.
"Cobbled together, your Eminent Lordship? Please. Our engineers worked long hours to match your body structure to our stools."
"Yes, only you humans would spend limited engineering time on such a thing. Either that, or you had your magnificent computer sketch it up in a spare moment and then spin it out of a block of magic metal. You make soft cushions out of metal," the clan lord marveled.
"It is a matter of concentration and flexibility," Nelly replied from Kris's neck.
"Yes. Yes," the old Iteeche said with something close to a humanlike sigh. Kris remembered that this Iteeche had negotiated with her Great Grandfather Ray to end the Iteeche-Human War some ninety years ago. Was he older than her grampa? Was he feeling his mortality at a moment like this?
"I am told that you humans can record conversations with tiny specks of dust that our four eyes cannot see," the Iteeche whispered, low. "Can you also locate larger listening devices?"
Kris was glad for the question. She was not looking forward to admitting the extent to which she'd wired the Imperial Capital for sound.
"Yes, we can, most eminent clan lord," Kris whispered back.
"How?" he asked.
"We can locate the tiny hum of electronics by several sensors, or we can physically search the dark corners of a room for actual devices that may be using no electrical power."
"Could you search this rooftop for any such listening devices?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please do so."
In the blink of an eye, Kris's medals, awards, and badges of orders vanished from the chest of her uniform. Meanwhile, Kris began talking about her recent campaigns, telling any listeners nothing that they would not have been able to cull from a quick scan of a half-trustworthy media outlet.
To date, of course, Kris had been unable to identify anything like an Iteeche news outlets. Still, the clans had to have some way to pass information back and forth. Just more of what Kris needed to learn about this crazy, alien society she was sworn to defend.
"I have identified and suborned three listening devices," Nelly reported. "At present, they are transmitting conversations that I am feeding them."
"Three devices," Kris said. "Any idea what their sources are?"
"One appears to be a very low-tech human device. The other two are larger and o local make," the computer answered.
Amanda snorted, very demurely, but it was still a snort. "I guess some of the free traders are bringing in more than their manifests report."
"Be grateful it's just low tech," Jack rumbled.
"Nelly, can you tell us who is listening or where they might be listening from?"
"It's interesting that all three of them are well away from the garden house," Nelly said. "I think that may have something to do with their having a limited arch of broadcast. That would mean the receiving stations are to the north, east and west of your palace."
"Most Eminent Chooser," Kris said, "I have come to understand that most of the buildings around a palace are clan territory as well."
"Yes," Roth said.
"Would you mind if we did a search on the surrounding buildings?"
"That wouldn't involve marching your Marines through our harem by any chance, would it?"
"I won't do that again," Kris said, allowing herself a smile. "No, we will do it with our own micro drones and nano spies."
"Please do. I would like to know who in the We clan feels the need to listen in on me and my conversations. Who, besides you," he said, raising an eyebrow to Kris.
Kris chose to ignore the question. For now.
"Nelly, conduct the search. For now, continue feeding them a report about matters on the captured planets. Maybe toss in some ideas about how I could sell some of the captured ships and transfer the profits back to human space. Throw in all sorts of nice officious names and the likes."
"No problem, Kris."
"Now, Most Eminent Chooser, can we talk?"
"No doubt, you wish to talk with the usual bluntness and haste of your race," Roth said.
"No doubt. I really have very little time. The longer this meeting lasts, the more likely I will be ambushed on the way back to my embassy."
"I was wondering why you were coming to me, rather than asking me to come to you."
"I doubt if any admiral, even the commander of the Combined Imperial Fleets, would dare be so gauche as to ask that of such a high-ranking clan lord as yourself."
"You are learning the fit and proper ways. Maybe there is some wisdom in the Longknife family line."
"Even we understand protocol and tact," Kris said.
The Iteeche lord leaned back into his cushions even as he drew himself up to his full, if seated, height. "So, what do we have need to talk about?"
"Do I and my embassy still have the full support of the We clan?" Kris asked, bulldozing right into the heart of her problems.
Now all four eyelids on the clan lords face rose high on his forehead. "I should think by now that you would have realized that no one ever has the full support of any clan. Not even the clan High Lord."
"It is that bad?"
"Have you ever studied tadpoles in a mating pond?" Roth asked.
"No. I've never had the opportunity. Should I?"
"It might help you understand us better. Come, walk with me."
Kris followed Ron and Roth to a large pond located on the roof of the palace. The water was dotted with several kinds of vegetation, some standing tall, others floating lazily on the surface of the dark waters. Roth pointed to a bit of open water.
"What do you see there?" he asked Kris.
"I can't see very far into the water, but I can see tadpoles," she said.
"How do they behave?"
Kris studied them. The tadpoles nibbled at something like blue green algae that collected around the plants.
"A tadpole may nibble at some algae," Kris said, "but not for long. They keep moving . . . Oh, that one stayed too long at a pad and got snapped up by a small fingerling fish."
"Exactly. Never stay anywhere too long. Always keep moving, never swim in a straight line. A tadpole learns that, or it becomes food for its elder sibling."
"Talk about survival of the fittest," Jacques observed.
"Yes, I have read of that human philosophy," Roth said. "There is much debate in your literature about whether that or cooperation is the best survival technique. You can afford to debate that after your parents have nurtured you to maturity and provided for your education."
Roth raised all four of his hands from their second elbow in a kind of shrug. "We have no such opportunity. Survival of the fittest is something that is hammered into us before we grow our gills. Never commit too much to any one course. Always be ready to change, to switch direction. Always do what you must do to survive."
Kris wanted to remark that the Empire did nothing of the sort, but instead she said, "Yet, on Zargoth, I watched from orbit as quite a few technicians risked their lives to see that power, water, sewer and communications still flowed to the people that depended on them. They showed a visceral commitment to cooperation even while a clan lordling was doing his level best to see that thousands, if not millions, died in some vain effort to make us destroy the planet we'd just captured peacefully. I don't understand."
Again, Roth shrugged. This time, however, it was a minor one. Only the forward pair of hands were raised, and only from the first elbow.
"You are talking about two different things. Clan politics is of a higher and much more complex order than anything these lowly technicians may do. What you saw there was just the grubbing of some minor technicians trying to keep their rice bowl full. If they didn't keep the water flowing, they would have been replaced and reduced to naked slaves. By the next day, someone else would have taken their jobs. Technicians are easily replaced."
Kris did not allow herself to roll her eyes. Indeed, she froze her face to Navy bland. She was learning even more about the Iteeche society. Even more she did not like.
"So, tell me, Roth, what should I do? I understand that the clans need time to rearrange the pecking order. To decide who moves into a palace a bit closer to the Imperial Precincts and who gets rousted out to a smaller one a few more kilometers farther out. I was given a very short brief, put down this rebellion. It seems to me that my orders are out of step with your political requirements. Have I got that right?"
"Oh, you Longknifes. You are so literal. Of course, there is no conflict between your orders. We just didn't expect that you would set yourself to a war strategy that involved fighting battles and taking planets quite so quickly and quite so successfully. You have no idea the trouble my clan alone has had finding younglings to send out to rule these planets you have dropped in our lap. Every day, runners are sent to me, sometimes very senior messengers, telling me of the disruption you are causing to the normal and accepted path of promotion for young lordlings. Oh, and finding places for those that you send back. You are causing a lot of problems for a lot of major clan lords."
"Sorry about that," Kris said, and hoped Nelly kept the sarcasm out of the translation.
"And I don't think the clan lords," Ron put in, "expected you to become the owner of quite so large a fleet."
"They are merely prize vessels that I have taken into the Imperial Combined Fleets," Kris answered. "Rebel ships are now standing loyal to the Emperor and ready to defend his worshipfulness."
The Iteeche didn't "worship" any deity that Kris had identified. The word worshipful was applied to the Emperor, but even the Magnificent Nelly had not been able to find any other word for what the Iteeche owed the Emperor. Just another alien concept from an alien culture.
"Yes, yes," Roth said, "but those ships now owe no fealty to a clan. Some fear that you may be holding them close to you. Maybe have them swear fealty to the clan you are building?"
Which wasn't all that far from what Kris was thinking about.
What she said was, "Roth. I am a human. I owe fealty to my King whom you know is my great-grandfather and Chooser. I am here now, but you know that I may be recalled by my King. How could I form any sort of a clan when I could be gone tomorrow?"
"That is what I have told those who speak to me of this fear. However, even I wonder how much loyalty the Navy now has to you. Does that loyalty extend beyond their clan loyalty? Does it replace it?"
Kris cocked her head and eyed Roth for a long moment. "Wise and Eminent Imperial Counselor, the Sailors and Marines of the fleet have followed me to victories and prize money. They enjoy that. Now, tell me what their clans have done for these Iteeche that defend them from the rebels?"
Roth leaned back on his cushion. So did Ron. There was a long pause in the conversation as they pondered Kris's response. Either that or they were shocked into silence. Kris couldn't tell which. Again, she wished the Iteeche were not wearing those damn high collars that hid the remains of their gill slits.
Knowing the emotions an Iteeche was feeling was a big help. Kris missed it.
"As ever, a Longknife poses interesting questions," Roth finally said. "Those who sail our warships have never been deserving of status in the clans. They do as they are told. If they do not serve us, they can be reduced to a slave and another youngling can be chosen to be a sailor in his stead."
Again, Roth shrugged with all four arms at the second elbow. "That is the way it has always been. That is the way it will always be. Yet now, you hand out honors, these bits of ribbon and metal that decorate their uniforms. I hear that they are even more proud of them than their lust for prize money. Another one of your strange human ways that is being translated into our Empire and changing everything."
Kris was taken aback by this. She'd heard only good things about her awards program from her admirals. That the clan lords were disturbed by it was . . . troubling. "Are you saying," Kris said, slowly, "that I should run my policies and practices through a clan approval process?"
"That is why I provided you with Ron. Did you consult him for his counsel before instituting such a major change in our practices toward uniformed Iteeche?"
Kris eyed Ron. He had the good sense to find that moment to study a flowering plant off to the side of the airy summer house.
"I may not have understood your intentions," Kris said, carefully.
"There is a lot that you humans do not seem to understand about we Iteeche," Roth said, darkly.
"Yes, there is. Ron, can you spend more time with me, functioning as an Imperial Counselor on my staff?"
The Iteeche twisted at the waist to eye his chooser. Exactly what passed between their four eyes was a mystery to Kris.
Finally, Ron turned back to Kris and said, "It is with great regret that I find my clan duties to have first call on my time. After I have completed my duties to my clan chief as well as commanded the flotillas that the clan has donated to the Imperial Combined Fleets, I will, of course, be more than available to you."
Kris was liking this meeting less and less. After a few moments of reflection on this latest rotten tomato to be dropped in her lap, she decided to cut to the central question for this visit.
"Ron brought the message to me that I was needed at the Imperial Capital to report to the Emperor in person. I have not yet been appraised of when I will make this report. Do you have any idea when that will be?"
"The Emperor is occupied at present," Roth said, not meeting Kris's eyes. "The flower gardens of the palace are in bloom and he chooses, for the moment, to occupy himself with painting their loveliness. When time can be found for you, you will be informed. It may come quite suddenly."
"I take it that the clan lords cannot decide among themselves if I should be heard," Kris said, crossly. "Or is it that keeping me cooling my heels here is a way to slow down the pace of the war?"
"I have not heard anyone say any of those things," Roth snapped.
"You know, the longer we sit on our hands, the more the rebels are able to adjust themselves to the fleet's new tactics. This will cost ships and lives the next time we go into battle.
"We have plenty of ships," Roth said. Kris noticed that he did not continue his reply. He did not say anything about the lives of her Sailors and Marines.
Kris rose from her cushion. Around her, so did her staff. "This meeting has been most informative. I think you very much for schooling me in the right and proper way of life among the wise clan leaders of the Empire."
KRIS, DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO PUT ALL THAT SARCASM INTO SO FEW WORDS?
NO, NELLY, YOU CAN SOFTEN IT A BIT. BUT NOT TOO MUCH. I WANT TO MAKE SURE HE KNOWS HE HAS A MAD LONGKNIFE ON HIS HANDS.
OKAY, KRIS.
Still, Nelly's reply went on much longer than Kris's comments. No doubt, she put it in the proper format, recognizing Kris's position as emissary from her King and Roth's status as the head of the We clan.
From the way Ron's hands fluttered, it was pretty obvious he spotted the difference between Kris's words and the translation. No doubt, he'd let Roth know as soon as Kris was gone.
"I am glad that we could have this open and forthright conversation," Roth said from where he sat. "Now, I think I shall paint some flowers as well. I am told that the Emperor intends to give awards for the best flower paintings that are shared with him."
"I am sure you will win a blue ribbon," Kris said. She gave Roth a shallow bow. Behind her, her staff went down to at least a 45-degree angle. Kris turned and strode for the elevator.
Interesting. Ron stayed with his Eminent Chooser.