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Liam detoured around a long, narrow channel cut into the floor. He suspected the Imshee’s front claws would fit into the grooves that appeared at irregular intervals, but he couldn’t tell if there was a functional reason for them. So far, the Imshee seemed to use the back of their front claws like an alien version of a cane or walker, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t use the hooked side.
Hell, it would be strange if they didn’t use it.
The two Rownt ahead of them parted, and Mora appeared.
“Problem?” Liam asked. Ondry’s grip tightened on Liam’s shoulder. Liam loved how predictably overprotective Ondry could be.
Mora moved to Liam’s side and matched his pace before whispering in English, “I needed a break from our host. The way it moves—the jerks and leaps—make me feel like it could turn and pounce on me in a heartbeat. I’m thinking that’s a predator.”
“So are humans,” Liam countered.
Even his floater friends, who were the most benevolent souls Liam had ever met, survived by spear fishing and hunting rabbits... and stealing from the edges of society. And while many humans lived without using any animal products, they could only do that if they lived on a planet that offered high quality vegetable replacements, or if they could afford to have those items shipped. It did imply humans were predators. However, he understood Mora’s concern. First the Rownt, and now the Imshee seemed far more intimidating than humans. “But I get the feeling we’re the yappy little dogs of the universe.”
“You’re feeling it, too, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I’m living in the land of the giants.” Liam flinched when Ondry paled a little, although Ondry’s gaze remained firmly locked on the tuk-ranked individuals in front of them.
“Tell me about it,” Mora said with a sigh.
A mechanical rattling vibrated the floor and the lighting changed. Mora gave Liam a wide-eyed look, but a quick glance around showed that none of the Rownt were concerned, so Liam took the gibbering voice of terror in the back of his head and shoved it into a corner. If there were danger, the Rownt would have gone into mutant killing mode. They hadn’t.
The Rownt ahead of them veered to the left and right, leaving Liam a narrow view of a large chamber. The front had the flat floor with those same unusual grooves, but then a series of angled beams rose to create an irregular tangle of straight lines that tilted up toward the distant side. The room was sixty or eighty feet in diameter and the light shifted to something more yellowish green and faintly nauseating.
An odor lingered in the air, making Liam light-headed. He would not want to spend any length of time on an Imshee ship, although he trusted the Grandmothers had checked to make sure it was safe. No doubt getting the human medical database had been one of the Grandmothers’ many reasons for trading with Earth.
Ahead, the Imshee used its claws to grab the supports before clambering up the beams far enough that it squatted five or ten feet above floor level. Mora had a point about their movements. The jerk and scramble made Liam’s hindbrain shiver. And now the Imshee used its huge claws to grasp the beams and swing itself around until it could settle its hindquarters. It gave a quick shake, and the patches of long hair flew around, the few knots untangling before all the hair fell back into place. God, they were ugly.
“Our favorite traders have brought interesting new creatures to Us,” the Imshee said.
The Grandmother stepped forward. “Sentient beings, not creatures,” she corrected him. The Imshee didn’t answer, which in a Rownt might mean confusion or even disagreement paired with a desire to avoid conflict with a Grandmother. Liam had no idea what it meant in an Imshee. After a long silence, the Grandmother added, “They are another species, but they are our palteia.”
That set off a whole series of chittering clicks and a long series of taps on one of the beams. The Rownt remained impassive, so Liam forced his body to remain still.
“Palteias are family groupings,” the Imshee said.
“We have computers to trade.” The Grandmother’s choice to ignore the Imshee’s factual statement suggested an entrenched position, but Liam wondered if the Imshee understood that. He had no way to judge how well the Imshee understood the nuance of what Rownt chose to avoid saying or how they used tone to shade meaning.
Mora drifted away from Liam, moving in the general direction of the Grandmother. The other Rownt subtly shifted, each taking a turn blocking the Imshee’s direct line of sight. That was when Liam noticed that the smaller Grandmother in front had done the same to block Liam. So they did fear the Imshee enough to shield the palteia. That wasn’t comforting.
“We and We have hand computers.”
The Grandmother tilted her head and studied the Imshee. “We offer computers with primary command modules.”
The Imshee must have shivered because its hair shimmied, catching the yellowish light as it swayed.
“We have many command computers. We and We produce the command chips Our favorite traders require to manufacture command computers.”
“Imshee command chips are worthless without the computer, and Rownt produce superior computers,” the Grandmother said calmly. “For a species that breaks a fair amount of technology, you produce inferior quality.”
“Others of Imshee produce superior quality. We and We can afford to break a few. We have many.”
“Having many is not the same as owning enough.” The Grandmother sounded smug. Without turning to look at Mora, she uncurled her tail from her leg and curled it around his.
The Imshee shivered again, its hair all twitching before it crouched down more, those vicious claws grasping the uneven struts. Then the large white eyes began to rotate in their sockets, the map of red veins drifting like a planet slowly spinning in orbit. Liam’s stomach churned.
“Where do They and They come from?” the Imshee asked. It then shifted somewhat, and the eyes rotated in the opposite direction as the Imshee pointed its body more toward Liam.
“A planet called Earth,” the Grandmother said, offering worthless information.
The Imshee shifted again, this time the flat plane of its shoulders with all the eyes squared off against her. “How many computers? What sector holds this planet? Do you hold these individuals within your species instinct?”
“How many computers would you want? Your people do seem prone to damaging them, and you rarely take the time to produce quality materials that will survive long term. Instead you build a house that will last for a season when you plan to live in it for a century.” The Grandmother used her most insulting voice.
“Rownt are too conservative. Moving slowly means other leaves grow above and soak up the sun. At least thirty. What sector holds this planet? Do you hold these individuals within your species instinct?” The Imshee blurted each question at a dizzying speed that defied logic. However, the Grandmother still had her normal coloring, and none of the Rownt appeared disturbed, even if Rownt culture put far more value on silence and careful deliberation.
“They are palteia. We feel no different about human palteia than Rownt ones. They bring us pleasure and profit.” The Grandmother paused and Mora rested his hand on her waist. It required him to reach up, which made him appear childlike. Liam had never been so grateful for a lower ranking that allowed him to hide near the back of the group without losing face. “I have forty computers, all Imshee compatible. I would provide them if the price would make others believe my trading ability is worthy of the title Grandmother,” she said.
The Imshee didn’t move, but Liam still had the impression something had changed. “Forty? Your ship carries forty computers right now?”
“It does.”
The Imshee rattled. “And none of them are committed to other trades?”
The Grandmother waited, and the Imshee clattered its claw against the strut. Maybe that was a communication device because the vibrations travelled through his feet. In a spaceship, vibrations didn’t travel that easily. If they did, every loose deck plate would have made teeth clack together. Finally the Grandmother said, “They are not.”
“Our favorite traders have never traded that many before. Does the addition of humans change how Rownt trade? What sector holds their planet?” The Imshee slid down several inches before shifting its claw grip to other beams.
Again, the Grandmother remained silent for a time, as did all the Rownt. Three of the Imshee’s small arms were working, two at computers and one at waving spasmodically. Liam wondered if silence and stillness were foreign to the Imshee, and whether the Grandmother used both to make this Imshee uncomfortable.
“Does the addition of humans change how Rownt trade? What sector holds their planet?” the Imshee repeated.
“A trade must be defined by that which produces profit on both sides.” The Grandmother’s answer didn’t appear to address either question, and the Imshee rattled its claw against one of the struts again.
“What profit would Our favorite trader claim for forty computers? We and We have no ship to trade. Even if We and We did have a ship, forty computers would not buy it.”
Shock robbed Liam of the ability to breathe. The Imshee brought up the idea of trading a ship when discussing forty command computers. Clearly, the Grandmother knew what tender the Imshee coveted. The Grandmother didn’t answer. She stood silent, the unmoving center of a half circle of unmoving Rownt. Minutes passed and the Imshee’s active arms settled and grasped the girders. The alien had to crouch down farther so its last arm could grab hold. Only then did the Grandmother answer.
“You are curious about the humans.”
The Imshee raised up and all the small hands let go of the beam under it. “We and We and Our favorite traders and All Others know knowledge is always valuable. Rownt and Imshee share that belief.”
“Humans share it as well,” the Grandmother said.
“Humans do? Are they sentient?”
Liam had no way of judging the Imshee’s tone, but the Grandmother turned toward Mora. He stared back for a second before she looked at Liam and Ondry. Liam could read that expression. She needed them to speak for themselves and prove their own sentience, but unless Liam missed his guess, Mora had been too caught up in trying to track the Imshee’s use of pronouns to pay attention to the bigger picture. Either that or he couldn’t read Rownt expression well enough to recognize the anticipation in the Grandmother’s face.
Liam took a step forward, and Ondry nearly tripped as he shoved a Grandmother to stay at Liam’s side. “Yes, we are,” Liam said in his most polite tone. Even if the Imshee couldn’t recognize it, the Grandmother would.
“They speak Rownt. Do They as well?” the Imshee asked.
Liam frowned. Maybe Mora had a point about figuring out the pronouns because that didn’t make sense. However, he answered the best he could, given his ignorance. “I do. Few humans can.” Liam expected to get peppered with questions. Instead, the Imshee appeared to square off against the Grandmother again, all its eyes in a perpendicular line facing her.
“What trade goods would you seek of Us or Us? Where do humans have their world of genesis? Does the addition of humans change how Rownt trade?”
“Rownt trade as best provides profit. That will never change,” the Grandmother answered easily.
The Imshee shivered and slid down a few more feet so he was near the Grandmother’s eye level. “Rownt reject profit when children or palteia are involved.”
“Rownt never reject profit. We refuse to consider profit first when those who have a claim to our protection are involved.”
“Do They and They claim the protection of Our favorite trader?”
“They do,” the Grandmother said. “Both of them. Zach of the family house Mora and Liam of the family house Munson are palteia of the Rownt of the ship of the Calti.”
In all the years Liam had been listening to Rownt announce themselves and their titles, he had never heard any do it in that manner. The use of family houses suggested the Imshee held family groupings closer than the Rownt did, and the Grandmother had also implied humans had family houses. That might be true of Mora, but Liam didn’t think of himself as coming from the house of Munson.
“What trade goods would you seek of Us or Us? Where do humans have their world of genesis?” The Imshee sounded like a broken record.
Liam much preferred the Rownt habit of silence when a question had been ignored. Either the person asked didn’t know or they chose not to answer, but repeating the question wouldn’t get any response from a Rownt. Clearly that rule changed around Imshee.
“The two questions are closely related,” the Grandmother said.
“Our favorite trader seeks information on the world of humans? Perhaps you see data We and We or We have traded from the Cy. The Cy explored much of space. The Cy will likely have information about these humans in their records. We and We can trade for Cy data.”
The Grandmother gave an inelegant snort. “The Cy have not explored since before the Rownt left their planet. The Cy would say we were a minor species locked forever in the prison of our world by our lack of movement toward the stars. Their data is wrong on Rownt, so the Rownt will not trust it to describe any other species.”
The Imshee rattled its claw and two of its arms began to work the small computers they held. The middle arms had long fingers which bent every way at once, so Liam tried hard to avoid looking at them. It made him think of broken and mangled hands.
The Imshee tilted its whole body. Those creepy white eyes with their red veining were now in a forty-five degree angle with the floor and each of the eyes spun like a lazy planet. It gave a shiver, and all the long hair shimmied again.
“We would trade for Imshee knowledge,” the Grandmother said, “knowledge of genetics.”
“Are They and They genetically damaged?” The Imshee began to retreat up the beams.
“Their species has an incompatible and unacceptable life span. I am unsure if the Imshee have the skills to correct a genetic defect which is innate to the species as a whole, but the Imshee skill in that area surpasses the Rownt.”
The Imshee skulked back down the struts until it was eye level with the Grandmother again. “We and We test to see if They and They can be corrected with no other They included in the trade, and Our favorite trader gives forty hand computers with Imshee-built command chips.”
“No,” the Grandmother said. “If you genetically correct both Zach house Mora and Liam house Munson, the Calti will provide you forty hand computers with Imshee-built command chips.”
The Imshee shook and then shook again. The grungy hair flew around its enormous shape and it tucked its small arms close to the body. It stopped, and then started shaking again. The thing looked less like an insect now, and more like a dying dog with mange and an inner ear infection. The Imshee stopped, and then shook more. The whole time, the Rownt watched, silent and still. Normally traders would circle an area, studying the trade goods or the traders, but in this dim and cavernous room, only the Imshee shaking disturbed the still air.
The Imshee stilled. “We and We test to see if both Zach house Mora and Liam house Munson can be corrected with no other They included in the trade, and Our favorite trader gives five hand computers with Imshee built command chips. We and We correct Them and Them so that They and They no longer have incompatible and unacceptable life spans, and Our favorite trader gives thirty and five hand computers with Imshee-built command chips.”
When trading with the humans, the Grandmother had sat silent for nearly two hours at one point, waiting for the human traders to grow nervous and improve their offers. This time she countered after a few minutes of silence. “You test to see if both Zach and Liam can be corrected, no other humans, and in return you gain information on human genetics. If you correct Zach and Liam’s genetic code to prevent their early death, we will offer up to forty hand computers with Imshee built command chips.”
The Imshee started shaking again. Liam wondered if the trader had something wrong with the central nervous system that decision-making caused it so much stress. It seemed counterintuitive that a predatory species would stop and make a spectacle out of itself every time it had to decide which prey animal to target. However, he watched several more rounds of offers and counteroffers and shaking before the Grandmother and the Imshee finally reached an agreement.
The Imshee would test Zach and Liam for free. They would then receive one computer for every twenty years of life they could give back to Zach and Liam through genetic manipulation. Liam listened as the traders narrowed in on their deal, his head growing lighter and lighter as he considered that it was possible that he could have a Rownt lifespan. He and Ondry could take a hundred years to walk the northern continent and trade along the way. They could spend thousands of mornings waking up in the nest together. The promise was too great, and Liam’s head spun so badly that when the trade was over, Ondry had to take Liam by the shoulders and turn him toward the exit.
The Imshee would prepare the tests based on the human medical database the Grandmothers would send over. Liam heard the words pass over him as though he was underwater and hearing only distorted versions of familiar words.
Life.
The Imshee might be able to give Liam a full life with Ondry. The thought was dangerously seductive.