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“About your time here . . .” Urle said.
That topic change seemed to bother the Ambassador. Urle had a flash of insight.
“It’s been our pleasure and honor to host you. I admit, when you asked me for a bill, I was dismayed. I assumed you understood it was in exchange for your presence. Our two peoples do not have enough connections. We could always stand to strengthen them.”
His words were flattery, but with a grain of truth. Humanity did not have very strong ties to the Hev yet, but they were very mutually beneficial – with caveats at times. But still, friendship and knowledge were things they always hoped to find in the infinite inhospitability of space.
“You honor me, Acting-Captain,” N’Keeea said. He aped a human gesture, tapping his chin. “In the vein of such favors, if you truly feel indebted to me, perhaps there is one I might ask of you?”
Urle’s heart beat faster, but he adjusted it back down to stay calm. Finally! They were getting somewhere!
“You may ask me anything,” Urle said, translating and slightly modifying a commonly-used Hev trader expression. “If it is in my power, I will consider it.”
“My people have an interest in your own. I have come on a . . . goodwill tour, of sorts. First through Dessei space, then Sepht, and now yours. It would be the crowning jewel of my tour if I were able to bring an official of peace and friendship back to my people.”
“Of course,” Urle said. “To send an ambassador is quite possible.” That was an extremely simple request, he thought. Surely that wasn’t all N’Keeea wanted. The Sapient Union was always happy to send out diplomats. One reason they were spread so thin.
“Only,” N’Keeea said, as if suddenly remembering. “There is one issue. It is a small matter, but I suppose in the interest of friendliness I should inform you; we are currently at war with another Clan. A Red Clan known that I believe in the SU are known as the P’G’Maig.”
Urle’s systems raced and brought him all relevant information on the P’G’Maig. He almost reeled as he saw that they were among the most powerful of Red Hev clans. They were one of the largest as well, with a populace estimated to be at 439.8 billion with a controlling interest in fifty-two systems.
“Ah, I see. That’s unfortunate, I have heard that they can be . . . quite aggressive,” he said carefully.
So this was it. N’Keeea wanted the Sapient Union to become involved in this war. To tip the balance.
His heart plummeted. He could not put himself or the Sapient Union into this position – and he was upset that the being had even asked him. There were very few times the Sapient Union would enter a conflict.
Though . . . offering to arbitrate might not be off the table.
“You know, I realize that I know very little about your people,” he said. “Can you tell me of your clan?”
“Yes, of course,” N’Keeea said. Nervousness poured off him again. “We are the T’H’Tul. Among the oldest of Hev Clans, dating back to the first migration. We have lived for thousands of years in the Mopu System, and under that ancient star we shall all one day perish.”
The pride and joy in his voice underscored the significance of his words. Urle’s systems could find very scant references to the clan of which he spoke, though the honorary T’ in front did suggest it was a very old clan. These markers were some of the few that remained somewhat consistent among them, as they were something that other clans typically added. Each part had a meaning, beyond the name itself – a code for their status in the eyes of the rest of their kind. To lie about your clan’s status – or imply you belonged to another – was very dishonorable, something to do only when you were sure you could get away with it.
T’ meant honored and ancient. But H’ was something he had to struggle for. Only a split second had passed, longer than most of his earlier searches. It was not in the typical lexicons on Hev honorifics that he found it; it was in dispatches decoded between warring Hev clans.
H’ had a very specific meaning. One coined specifically by the Red Clans. It was rare, because those given the term did not survive for long.
It meant that the clan was marked by another for death.
“Did you say,” he spoke to N’Keeea, “that your people live in a single system?”
“This is correct, yes,” the Ambassador replied. “We are a small clan, among the settled. There are . . . oh, only about ten million of us left.” He quickly and hastily added. “Though I cannot say how many might be alive now. A year is a long time when there is a war of extermination launched against you, after all.”
Urle stopped in his tracks. “A war of extermination?!”
“Yes,” N’Keeea said. His head, suddenly, fell low. “My people are not long for this universe. But!” He raised his head again, affecting hopefulness while every biophysical sign suggested the opposite, “We are still pleased to make what friends we can.”
Urle was still stopped in place.
“Ambassador – why did you not tell me how desperate your people were sooner?”
N’Keeea flinched visibly. “Desperate is not quite the word, we are simply coming to you as one equal facing another. We owe nothing to anyone, and are owed by many. It is simply that . . . calling in debts can at times be . . . precarious.”
Urle struggled to make sense of that. “You are more stoic than I would be in the circumstances, Ambassador. This situation . . . I wish I had known sooner.”
N’Keeea said nothing.
“Have the Sepht or Dessei promised help?” he asked.
“They were . . . reluctant. Due to certain provisions of law, they were . . . regretfully unable to take the actions we requested.”
“What? Why?”
“You would have to ask them, as I am not free to discuss these issues,” N’Keeea replied.
Urle brushed that aside for now. “What is it you wish for me to do?”
“Do?” N’Keeea asked. “I was hoping you could send an Ambassador.”
“I’m not sure that we could send one into a warzone,” Urle replied. “Unless you think the P’G’Maig would be open to meeting with-“
“No,” N’Keeea replied. “I do not think they would.”
“I cannot make a final call here,” Urle said. “I don’t have that authority. But I can tell you that we cannot fight a war for you, Ambassador.”
“I do not ask that,” N’Keeea replied. “Only for an Ambassador.”
Urle realized they were going in circles. “I can’t make any promises, either,” he said. “But I want to help. I will have to talk to someone.”
N’Keeea was unblinking, staring at him. “I would be quite pleased if you would, Acting-Captain.”
Other Terrestrial 