Year's Best Scifi 7 Part 37

The car moved through the dim streets of Port City, the driver slowing every so often to point out the sights. Here was a good bar, there the hospital, that huge building across the street a military barracks.

Majli looked out the rear window and tried to fix it all in her mind. Everything looked vaguely familiar, the same concrete prefabs s.p.a.ceAdmin threw up on every planet she had ever been posted to. But this one was different. This was her first plum a.s.signment, an amba.s.sadors.h.i.+p. If she did well here on Malku-if her negotiations were successful-there was no telling how high she could climb.

She strained to see through the indistinct light. They pa.s.sed squat trees with right-angle branches and soft furry leaves, blue-green, gray-green, pale purple. Fog rolled down the mountains like a wave, further obscuring the view outside. She switched on the interior light and took her notes out of her briefcase.

When she looked up next, the car was pulling up to the emba.s.sy compound, an imposing building compared to the surrounding prefabs. She caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror, level gray eyes, thick light-brown hair. Tendrils of hair had already come free of the tight bun she had fixed this morning, and she sighed and pushed them back.

She opened the door and stepped out. "This way, Madam Amba.s.sador," the guard out front said, ushering her though the front door. She was not yet used to the t.i.tle; it gave her an absurd feeling of importance and she shook her head to dispel it. She needed to be clear headed, especially now, for her first meeting.

She walked through the huge foyer, her heels echoing off the green marble floor, and presented her credentials to the guard at the front desk. "Yes, of course, Ms. Iris," the guard said. "The conference room is down the hall, the first door to your left."

Nearly everyone was in the conference room already, ranged around the metal table. She sat at the head and bent over her notes again. After the soft light outside, the room seemed harsh, too bright, though it was only what she was used to back on Earth.

When the last person arrived, she looked up. Of all the people there, she knew only the vice-amba.s.sador, a fussy young woman who had met her late last night when her s.h.i.+p touched down.

She took a deep breath. Okay.

"h.e.l.lo," she said. "I'm the new amba.s.sador, Majli Iris. I'd like you all to introduce yourselves, please."

She met, in turn, the Chief of Protocol, the anthropologist and two members of his team, the vice-amba.s.sador again, the base commander and his adjutant, and a few others. Her memory for faceswas poor, a bad trait in a diplomat. Fortunately, she had a dossier with all their names in her briefcase.

"Thank you," she said when they had finished, looking around the table. "As you probably know, I've been sent here to renegotiate the terms under which we lease Port City from the Hwaru. We want-we need-more s.p.a.ce. This location is crucial if we're going to expand into the neighboring systems. If the estimates are right, we'll need as many as twenty s.h.i.+ps taking off from this port every day."

She looked at each of them again, slower this time. "So what I want from you is your best behaviol.

We have to prove to the Hwaru that we'll make good neighbors. That means no socializing, except at officially sponsored events. No insults or slurs, even if you're just talking among yourselves. No fighting with them, of course, and no s.e.x."

A few of the men smirked at that last. And she knew that it would prove impossible to enforce; she just hoped she could keep the incidents down to a minimum.

"All right," she said. "What do I need to know that wasn't covered in the briefings?"

The muted roar of a s.h.i.+p taking off sounded outside the building, and the windows rattled in their frames. "Madam Amba.s.sador," the anthropologist said. Delgado, his name was, Delgado something or something Delgado. She nodded at him.

He switched on the holo display on the table. An image of a Hwaru appeared. The figure was shrouded in a voluminous hooded robe, but the robe opened at the front and she could see how lean it was, the bones showing in odd places. The thin ones are the males, she remembered. He was blacker than anyone she had ever seen on Earth, a reflecting black like onyx or coal, and his robe matched his skin. Gems glinted at his neck and wrists. His nose and jaw thrust forward to form a snout.

"This is a male," Delgado said. "He's about seven feet tall-you can't really see the scale in this picture. There is p.r.o.nounced s.e.xual dimorphism among the Hwaru-the females are shorter and rounder. They are organized into clans, with something like a king at the top...."

"Yes, yes, I know all that," Majli thought. She forced herself to look as though she were paying attention. Delgado was short and stocky, with a face that could have come directly from a Mayan frieze: slanted forehead, straight aristocratic nose, full wide mouth. She would have to stop him soon; she would meet the Hwaru the next morning, and she still had a great deal of reading to get through.

"...and he has a dog," Delgado said.

"I'm sorry. Who has a dog?"

"The one who calls himself Go-Between, or the Go-Between. He's the one you'll be dealing with. The king is present at all the meetings, of course, but he never says anything and we're working on the hypothesis that he's just a figurehead. We think it's Go-Between who makes the policy. Anyway, he brings a dog to all the meetings."

"Where did he get it?"

"It's probably one of the strays at the port. People bring them from Earth and then find out they don't have the time or energy to take care of them."

"Well, that's interesting. What else can you tell me about the meetings?"

"Well." Delgado hesitated; she saw that she had derailed the lecture he had prepared. "There's a lot of silence. It's a little nerve-wracking at first-you start to think they're never going to say anything at all.

You just have to wait it out."

"They have a funny smell, too," the commander's adjutant said. Everyone turned to look at him. "The Sheepfaces. They smell funny."

Majli's head jerked up. "The what?" she said.

"The Sheepfaces. I'm sorry, but everyone calls them that."

"You're more than sorry," Majli said. "You just disobeyed a direct order. Or weren't you listening when I said no slurs?"

"I'm sorry, I said. I won't do it again. Everyone says it, though. They say worse things."

"No, you certainly won't do it again. You'll report to the personnel office, collect two weeks' pay, and leave on the next s.h.i.+p out."

The adjutant opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then stood and walked stiffly to the door.

A few people watched him go; the rest pretended to study their notes or look out the window. Her heart was beating fast. She waited for someone to mutter one of the words she hated, "b.i.t.c.h" or "slag," but no one said anything. She had to do it, though; she had to make an example of the man, to demonstrate that she took her authority seriously and that they had d.a.m.ned well better take her seriously too. G.o.d, and she didn't even know the man's name.

They talked for another hour about what she might expect from the Hwaru, and then she adjourned the meeting.

The car arrived the next day to take her to the Hwaru's dwelling. They drove in the opposite direction from the emba.s.sy, stopped at the checkpoint on the outskirts of Port City, and were waved through.

Once they pa.s.sed the checkpoint, the car b.u.mped along dirt roads, some of them barely wide enough to accommodate it. Mountains loomed ahead of them in the indistinct light. As they came closer, she saw low rambling structures built along the foothills, barely distinguishable from the mountains behind them.

No, it was just one building. The Hwaru's dwelling, made of dark gray stone, seemed to run for miles along the base of the mountain. They pulled up before a section slightly higher than the rest and she got out.

Majli was a tall woman, but the Hwaru who stood at the door to greet her was far taller, a male.

None of the briefings had mentioned his eyes, which were as onyx-black as his skin, with no whites.

They were disconcerting in that night-dark face, and very difficult to read, especially in the vague light.

And, as Delgado said, he had a dog. A very ordinary-looking dog, a medium-sized mutt with s.h.a.ggy black fur and an even bus.h.i.+er tail. It trotted forward to sniff at her politely.

She was surprised to feel a twinge of annoyance, almost jealousy. Dogs and people had kept each other company for tens of thousands of years; dogs had willingly, even eagerly, thrown their lot in with humans. Would they do the same for any sentient being? Did the ancient bond between dogs and humans mean nothing to them after all?

"My name is Go-Between," the Hwaru said. "I am honored to invite you to our hearth." He bowed and she followed him inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he meant the word "hearth" literally. Fires glowed in two opposite walls, their flames golden; they and the smoky candles in sconces along the walls provided the only light in the room. A tall stone chair stood at the end of the room, a throne. She squinted to make out the figure seated there, but she already knew who it must be.

"I have the honor to present my king," Go-Between said.

His voice sounded overly loud; were the Hwaru slightly deaf? "King Darhu, this is Amba.s.sador Majli Iris."

She bowed to the other Hwaru. Now she could see that he wore jewelry at his neck and wrists, more than Go-Between, and a circlet of gems bound his forehead. Even the jewels were dim, deep red and dark gold. "I'm honored, my lord," she said.

The king said nothing. She became aware of the smell the adjutant had mentioned. She could not put a name to it but it was not unpleasant, a warm, sweet odor, slightly spicy. Cinnamon?

Several Hwaru children chased each other through the room, shouting and making a noise that sounded like growling. The children were small and plump: were they females, or did the s.e.xual differences only show up at p.u.b.erty? Dogs played at their feet. Two women came in and lit candles from the fire.

"He is honored to meet you as well, Amba.s.sador Iris," Go-Between said.

Majli forced her attention away from the chaos in the room. Delgado had mentioned this in one of his reports; he called it "lack of separation between public and private spheres."

Go-Between indicated a chair at the base of the throne for her. As she sat, the others arrived, the anthropology team and the vice-amba.s.sador, and Go-Between ushered them to seats as well. The dog came and nuzzled at Go-Between's hands, then curled up and went to sleep on a pile of blankets by one of the fires. Majli marveled at how well-trained it was.

The Hwaru's skin glittered in the light from the fires. They were the color of coffee beans, of polished black shoes, of c.o.c.kroaches. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light she noticed a tapestry worked ingold thread behind the throne, a complex tracery of curves and lines. Gold flashed as the fire played over it.

"King Darhu wishes to know how you like our country," Go-Between said.

"I like it a great deal," Majli said. In fact, she had not seen very much of it. s.p.a.ceAdmin placed top priority on expanding Port City, and she had been rushed to the negotiations without any time for sightseeing. Fortunately, she had read enough to be able to say a few complimentary things about the planet.

Go-Between said nothing for a long time. Children played, dogs barked, the life of the hearth went on loudly around them. Majli felt a strong urge to fill the pause with trifles, to say anything at all, but she restrained herself: this was just one of the silences Delgado had mentioned. Finally, Go-Between said, "The king is very pleased."

As the conversation went on, Go-Between continued to do all the talking while Darhu remained silent.

Was Delgado right then, was Darhu a figure-head and Go-Between the true power on this part of the planet?

She found herself talking directly to Go-Between instead of the king, and had to force herself to include Darhu in the conversation. It was difficult, though, to focus on either of the Hwaru; because their black eyes had no whites, she couldn't tell half the time what they were looking at.

They made small talk for the next hour, each side feeling the other out. Majli felt disappointed that they were not making better progress, but she knew from experience that negotiations like this one took time.

Finally, Go-Between stood; apparently, the meeting was over for now. The dog woke up and stretched and went over to Go-Between. Once again, she felt a sort of betrayal that humanity's oldest friend should attach itself to this alien being.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"She is a she," Go-Between said, then added something in his own language. The dog looked up eagerly, and Go-Between scratched her behind the ears. "Loyalty is very important to us," he said. "The name means something like 'Loyal' or 'Faithful' "

"Fido," Majli said, trying not to laugh.

"What?"

"It is a name we have given to dogs for many years," she said. "Loyalty is very important to us too."

"I am glad to hear it," Go-Between said.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they left the meeting but the planet's shadowy light made it seem like evening; Majli had to shake off a feeling that night would fall any minute. The fog had burned off, though, and the temperature felt almost pleasant.

She got in the waiting car and they returned to the city. When they pa.s.sed the checkpoint, she leaned forward and said to the driver, "I think I'll walk from here."

"My orders were to drive you," the driver said.

"Well, I'm giving you new orders." She opened the door. "Take the afternoon off."

"I can't let you do that! What if something happens to you?"

"What could happen? No one's allowed into Port City unless they're cleared beforehand."

She stepped out. The driver glanced at the guards on the checkpoint as if seeking their a.s.sistance, but they said nothing and he shrugged and pulled away.

She wanted-needed-the walk for several reasons. She had to be alone, to clear her head after the strange sights and smells of the hearth. And she wanted to see Port City up close, so that she could talk about it with Go-Between, show him the benefits that s.p.a.ceAdmin could bring to his planet.

She could have explained all this to the driver, of course. "Never explain," her father used to say.

"Your subordinates don't need to know, and your superiors will ask if they don't understand."

She had thought about her father a great deal since she came to Malku and Port City. "If someone disobeys an order, you make an example of him immediately," he had said. "No one will disobey you after that." And she had; she had fired the adjutant. She wondered if he would have approved. Her father had died three years ago, before she received her promotion to amba.s.sador. Since then, the things he had taught her seemed more important than ever; she found herself remembering them at odd times, relying on them to find her way through the complex maze of interplanetary diplomacy. After all, he had negotiated the Peace of Altair, single-handedly ending a war that had cost millions of lives and nearly destroyed an entire planet. Would anything she did ever match that?

She sighed; she missed him very much. She wished she could tell him about her new posting. So much rested on her shoulders. Would he be proud of her?

She pa.s.sed ugly gray buildings, groups of soldiers in uniform, dockworkers getting off their s.h.i.+ft. A noisy crowd came out of a tavern, laughing and shouting. Streetlights glowed every dozen yards or so, casting a little light before the gloom closed in again.

She saw a few Hwaru, not very many. Once, she saw a male part his robe and relieve himself against the corner of a building; she had heard about this in the briefings but she still felt a shudder of disgust to see it. Another example of Delgado's "lack of separation between public and private spheres," probably.

The urine left a dark stain against the concrete.

The buildings thinned and she began to pa.s.s cl.u.s.ters of trees like the ones she had seen that morning.

Their right-angle branches, turning left and right, up and down, made them look like intricate puzzles.

They smelled like pencil shavings, that same odor of wood and graphite combined.

Far off, she saw the lights of a s.h.i.+p as it lifted into the air; a loud rumbling came to where she stood a moment later. She hurried home, eager to write up her notes and impressions.

A few days later, she arrived at the hearth to find everything in chaos-children crying, adults racing back and forth, dogs barking. Delgado sat in his customary chair, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. Of all the people from the base, only he continued to attend the talks; he needed to be there to study the Hwaru, and to explain some of the nuances of their behavior if Majli failed to understand anything.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"A child is sick," Go-Between said.

Now she realized that only one child was crying, though it made enough noise for a whole roomful of them. It was bedded down by one of the fires; an adult held a clay cup to its mouth, trying to make it drink. A dog, fluffy and golden as a chrysanthemum, lay on the bed with the child and whined anxiously.

"I can send a doctor from the hospital," she said. "They might be able to find out what's wrong."

One of the long nerve-wracking silences pa.s.sed. "We would like that very much," Go-Between said finally. "There is suspicion, you know-some people think that you brought the disease."