Affiliations, Aliens, and Other Profitable Pursuits Page 8

“You’re looking good, Munson,” Framkie said, but his voice had a bit of a tremble to it. For the first time in a number of years, Liam considered how the Rownt might appear to someone used to seeing human faces. Ondry was between seven and eight feet, something in that neighborhood, but the Grandmothers were huge. Eldest had to be a good eleven feet, although her back was starting to bow, so she didn’t look an inch over ten. Still, she was huge and heavy, and her face lacked any human emotion, although Liam could easily see curiosity in the widening of her eyes and nostrils, and her dark color suggested she was at ease with this surprise. She certainly showed no alarm.

  But Framkie wouldn’t know that. He saw huge, muscled aliens who towered over him. Considering that this was one of the few people who had ever treated Liam fairly, it seemed unkind to intimidate Framkie.

  Liam touched Eldest’s hand and then turned sideways and backed up to escape her touch, and she allowed it. “He is someone I have traded with many times. He would show me where to find vegetables when I was new to an area,” he said. Normally that would be a metaphor—a Rownt way of saying Framkie had assisted Liam as long as the assistance didn’t interfere with his ability to trade on real goods. In this case, it was also literal.

  When Liam had been abandoned by his front-line abuser, Framkie had pointed out where to find edible food and had even suggested Liam try to get into the language program in order to earn a ticket off the front lines. Liam owed him.

  After Liam gave Eldest a small Rownt smile, he turned toward Framkie. Walking fast would, hopefully, dissuade the others from following. Rownt didn’t like rushing toward the unfamiliar.

  “It’s great to see you. I heard the lines had broken, and I was afraid…” Liam didn’t finish the sentence. Framkie would know what he meant. Death hunted those battlefields, and both of them had seen so much of it that they’d developed a superstition against talking about their own deaths.

  “Yeah, well.” Framkie shrugged. “Like I told you, a soldier learns to survive. But you… You sure do know how to find yourself a cushy job. Diplomatic corp, and an officer, I hear. Should I be saluting you or something?”

  “God, please don’t. I try to ignore the officer thing,” Liam said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  Framkie laughed. “Same old Munson. The real officers aren’t going to appreciate that attitude, and if you’re a lieutenant now, you’re going to be around them a lot more. You’d better watch your manners.”

  “Me? I’m not the one with questionable manners and a reputation for the worst practical jokes on the front lines.” Not that Framkie had ever pulled any jokes on Liam. When Liam had first gotten to the front lines, Sergeant Kaplan had kept Liam close to camp when Liam wasn’t tied to his bed. And when Kaplan had tossed Liam out, Framkie probably felt too sorry to try anything. After all, Liam had ended up on retrieval duty, going into no-man’s land over and over to retrieve equipment and bodies caught between the armies. That was how Kaplan dealt with ex-boyfriends who weren’t willing to bend over and get abused anymore.

  When the soldiers had learned about Kaplan’s plan, Framkie and the others had taken it on themselves to go with Liam and cover his back. Those had been hard times, but Liam had come out stronger. Now Liam was scared to ask about Lester, Preston, and Bukowski. In his memory, they were all still alive—playing cards, cursing, and hoarding any scraps of food they could find. They were alive as long as Liam didn’t know any different.

  “I don’t hang around with officers.” Framkie studied him for a minute. “But now you’re a lieutenant, so I guess I am hanging out with an officer. Someone needs to check for flying pigs.” Suddenly Framkie turned pale. “Oh God, it’s coming over here,” he whispered.

  The shuffling steps behind Liam suggested whichever Rownt was coming, she was avoiding stealth. Liam turned to see the eldest Grandmother.

  Using English so Framkie could understand, Liam introduced them. “Eldest Grandmother of the trading ship Calti, this is Sergeant Framkie, a former leader of mine and the individual who suggested I begin language studies.”

  Framkie lost the last of the color in his face, leaving him parchment white.

  “Is he angry?” Eldest asked.

  Liam switched to Rownt. “The loss of color suggests fear or shock. Most humans have no experience with other species beyond the stories they have heard of the Anla. To know stories of violence and betrayal and then see the size of a Rownt is disturbing when one is not educated enough to understand the differences between the two species.”

  “He thinks us Anla-like?” Eldest paled.

  “No, Grandmother. He thinks you are alien to his experience, and the only stories he knows are of Anla, so he must wonder and fear. The unknown frightens humans, and we sometimes replace ignorance with images that match our worst fears.”

  Eldest narrowed her nose, which made it clear what she thought of the logic.

  “Maybe Framkie and I can walk aside, where you are not so near as to worry him,” Liam suggested.

  She looked around at the flat landing area. Other than the one fueling truck Framkie seemed to have driven and the hangar the humans had converted to a meeting place, there was nothing near the ship. “You would have to travel quite far to reach a place where he would not be in danger if his actions angered me,” she pointed out.

  Liam believed that. When a predator had attacked Liam, Ondry had abandoned a borrowed motorbike on the road and run to Liam’s defense because he could run faster than the bike could travel the rough terrain. Rownt were more dangerous than their turtle-like appearance might lead a human to assume.

  “But he sees your size, and his experience with Earth creatures tells him that beings that are large are also slow.”

  The Grandmother pointed out, “Earth logic does not extend to Rownt biology.” Even Liam could hear the amusement and implied insult in the tone. Ondry had begun teaching him how inflection could imply insult, but Liam was surprised the eldest would use such subtle taunts around him. The Grandmothers at Janatjanay always treated Liam carefully—like a youth who didn’t know enough words to trade insults. Liam chose to ignore the Grandmother’s tone since he didn’t know how to react to it.

  “No, Grandmother,” Liam agreed, “but then those who have seen only Earth creatures or worlds terraformed by those of Earth would not recognize the illogic in that statement.”

  Eldest considered him for a long time before asking, “Does he pose a danger? I would not have your chilta angry with me.”

  “He is no threat. He protected me when he felt others used me wrongly,” Liam said. After the mistakes Liam had made—trading his ass for a bit of protection on the front lines—most of the other soldiers would have been happy to see Liam dead. Framkie had given Liam another chance.

  Eldest huffed, but then she turned away and started toward the ship. As she reached the group, they all followed suit.

  “Where are they going?” Framkie whispered.

  “They’re probably going to stand around near the ramp and wait,” Liam said. “But they don’t mind waiting, so we can talk. So, how is everything?”

  Framkie must have guessed what Liam wanted to know. “Preston is in a rehab hospital trying to get a new graft to take. He lost most of the skin on his back in a flash bomb. Lester died. I was lucky. I had a broken leg, but I got scooped up with the critically injured and dumped back here. With all the refugees and injured soldiers, Command needed more people to work logistics.”

  Liam had no words. He had spent too many nights imagining the terrible things that might have happened back on the front, but in the morning, he had always comforted himself with the thought that the guys were probably safe and sound and still cheating at cards.

  “It’s the soldier’s life. You know most of us would have starved while searching for work if we’d stayed on Earth. At least this way, their families get compassionate support.”

  “Yeah,” Liam said softly. He half regretted this meeting because he hadn’t wanted to
be stripped of his illusions.

  “So you. I hear you’re now a xenolinguistics specialist. How do you go from a language tech to an officer and specialist?”

  Maybe it was unfair, but Liam felt a hot flash of indignation. “I didn’t sleep my way there.”

  “Hey, never said you did.” Framkie held his hands up as though surrendering. “No one makes you an ambassador to an alien species because you traded your ass, so stand down, Lieutenant.”

  Liam blushed. “I just… I guess I haven’t spent a lot of time with people who know about that part of my life.”

  Framkie stuck his hands in his pockets, and for a time he stared off toward the Rownt. “A soldier survives. You did what you needed to, and I won’t criticize.”

  “Back then, you didn’t approve,” Liam said.

  “Hell, no. Long term, trading on sex is a bad survival strategy. Never trust assholes, and people who use you are assholes,” Framkie said firmly. He studied Liam. “I’m assuming you got this job by being damn good with these aliens.”

  “Rownt.”

  Framkie laughed. “Okay, I’m not even going to try to say that. I don’t know how to swallow a word in the middle. Crap, when you used to complain about the pronunciations, I thought you were being a whiny little bitch. I guess you had cause to gripe.” He studied the ship and the group of Rownt now standing near it. “What are they like?”

  Liam tried to find a word that would capture the essence of the Rownt. “They’re cautious—slow to make up their minds and firm in their decisions once they’ve come to consensus.”

  Framkie moved to a spot behind the truck. He was probably instinctively seeking cover. You couldn’t live for any length of time on the front and not obsess over lines of fire and protected spaces. “Some of the officers are saying the Rownt have a ship ten times bigger than that battleship, and they say it’s sitting just outside the solar system.”

  “The Li is like a shuttle,” Liam said. “The larger ship is the home base where these Rownt live full-time.”

  “That’s a shuttle?” Framkie asked, shock in his voice.

  “Rownt get large. The oldest of them are very large. The Li is used to visit planets, explore, and do whatever business is necessary before it returns to the main ship. The Calti is a permanent home for these Rownt. These aren’t transports.” Liam looked toward the ship where the Grandmothers stood. He suspected they could hear every word and considered this a prime opportunity to get information on how the average human perceived the world. After all, Liam and Diallo had both chosen to live with species other than their own. They weren’t normal.

  “They aren’t big; they’re fucking huge. I thought they were supposed to be eight and nine feet tall. Those monsters look closer to thirteen feet.”

  “Most of them are Grandmothers, which means they’re older and bigger.” Liam didn’t correct Framkie’s exaggeration on the height.

  “Literally they’re grandmothers?”

  “Yes.” Liam didn’t understand the disgust in Framkie’s voice.

  “Does that mean leadership really is limited not to only the women, but the women who’ve chosen to have kids? Seriously?” The man’s horror was unmistakable.

  Liam was offended for the whole race. “It’s not like the men don’t have leadership positions. Many if not most of the tuk-ranked leaders are men.”

  “Tuk-ranked? Is that a second-class leader? Because they can’t belong to the ruling class,” Framkie said loudly. Maybe he startled himself because he took a step back and rested his hand on the truck’s large rear tire. “Look, maybe I feel a little protective of you. We were all so damn proud of you for getting out, for getting a language tech job. When the front lines would get too much, we’d all tell each other we could go down and sign up for technical training and get out, just like you did. It was like a kid’s security blanket, you know?”

  That shocked Liam. He never considered himself anything other than a nuisance that most of the men were happy to see the backside of. After all, they ended up having to volunteer for hazardous missions because Kaplan kept trying to send Liam out into danger zones by himself. “If you felt that way, why didn’t any of you get technical training?” Liam asked. If they had, maybe Lester would be alive.

  “We started a dozen times.” Framkie gave a weak laugh. “But then we decided a few rounds of cards or a bottle of bootleg booze was more important than some test, and we’d give up until things got worse and we’d start up with the talk again.” With a grimace, Framkie turned away. Regret seemed to cling to him, and when he spoke again, he kept his back to Liam. “We all looked up to you, but I also understand you’ve had more hard knocks in your life than a dozen other men. I don’t want you seeing these aliens as some sort of safe haven, only to figure out later they’re just big assholes.”

  “They aren’t like Kaplan.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re not having sex with any of those behemoths,” Framkie said with enough disgust to remind Liam how much his own preferences did not match up with the rest of the human race. Liam would have to talk to the Grandmothers and Ondry about the importance of not discussing nonreproductive sexual gratification with anyone. Ever. Liam had to believe that anyone they traded with would be equally as disgusted as Framkie. Liam had no idea how the Grandmothers would react to the idea that something Liam and Ondry chose to do in private could prove bad for business. It could reflect poorly on Ondry. The issue with status was so delicate and complex not even Ondry could give Liam clear answers, but Liam did know that Ondry desperately wanted to be a tuk-ranked trader. Then he would have status with the Imshee. Ondry would never let go of his dream to give Liam more years of life than human biology allowed. And according to Ondry, the Imshee and their love of genetics was the solution to Liam’s problematic life span.

  “It’s more than that. They respect my ability with language. They trust me to explain concepts they struggle to understand.” Pushing down all his negative emotions, Liam smiled.

  Framkie whirled around and grabbed Liam’s arm. “You have to look out for yourself,” he said with desperation.

  Suspicion gnawed at Liam’s brain. “Did some officer from Command ask you to talk to me?”

  For a second, Framkie didn’t answer, but then he nodded. “Yeah, a general. A fucking general. I nearly shit my pants when I saw his rank.”

  Even though Liam had already guessed as much, the confirmation still shocked him speechless.

  “But you know me,” Framkie continued. “I would have told him to go screw himself, or more likely smiled to his face and then ignored him if I thought he was wrong. I see you smile when you talk about the Rownt, and it looks a lot like the expression you used to get when you were first out there on the front lines and Kaplan was around. You didn’t just sell your ass to that bastard; you really believed every lie he told you. You fucking loved him.”

  The blow was so low Liam couldn’t breathe.

  Leaning close, Framkie spoke in a sincere tone. “You’re too good to fuck your life over for someone else. These aliens—they don’t even care about their own kids. They let them die in the shell. You have to take care of yourself, and that means you can’t trust any assholes who wander along.”

  Liam frowned. “How could you know how they feel about their children?” Rownt adored their children. Any child would find a home, and any adult with a child to care for would put the child’s welfare ahead of anything else in his or her life. But until they came out of the shell, Rownt simply didn’t think of them as children.

  “I saw video. I saw pictures of a Rownt egg with a crack in it, a single claw sticking through, but the kid died in that egg because it couldn’t break out. They don’t seem to have a problem letting the weak die, and considering how much larger they are then either of us, I don’t see how that’s going to end well.” Framkie glanced over toward the Li with a thinly disguised expression of horror.

  Liam shook his head. “The humans want to drive a wedge between me
and the Rownt.”

  “They want me to play on your sympathies so you’ll get those monsters to trade us more metals. So, yeah, they’re trying to use me. Big surprise. But I’m more interested in you having an escape strategy for when Command drops you and those things finally turn on you.”

  Liam thought about the huge, lumbering Grandmothers. Their slow gestures, their steady movement, their calmness—it all seemed like a safe haven in a world that sometimes moved too fast for Liam to keep up. He didn’t find their size intimidating at all. Quite the opposite. When he sat in a room with a half-dozen Grandmothers, he didn’t worry about anything.

  “You don’t understand Rownt.”

  “Hell no,” Framkie agreed. “They say the Rownt don’t have medical care—they allow the sick to die.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Liam hated having to defend his life and his people, especially from Framkie. He wanted Framkie to understand the Rownt and be happy for Liam. Framkie withholding approval hurt more than Liam had expected. He tried to explain. “The Grandmothers provide emergency medical care all the time, but if someone is critically injured, a lot of times he will choose to go off on his own. They don’t have the same fear of death.”

  Framkie leaned back against the truck. “Listen to yourself, Munson. You’re making excuses for aliens who choose death over being disabled.”

  “No, I’m not. And there are many Rownt with disabilities who learn to overcome them. There’s a blind woman we often go to for her fine ceramics.”

  “And the ones who need help? The ones who can’t learn to overcome, what happens to them?” Framkie demanded.

  Liam could only stare at him. They died, but that was their choice, and taking away an adult Rownt’s choice was unthinkable. If any of them wanted to live in the temple, they could, and Liam had seen a few adults who still carried the rank of a child because of some disability. They were always cared for as a child and always loved. Some Rownt lived their entire lives without status and never suffered a day for it. They still became artists or workers in whatever way they could, and a Grandmother would always stand as their chilta or parent. But Liam felt like if he said any of this, Framkie would twist it all around. Yes, Rownt allowed their own to die, but it was about respecting choice.