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participate in any violence. If so, Terran forces would natur'lly have
to intervene. But we hope to send envoys underwater, to discuss a
truce with the idea of makin' permanent peace."
"So." Runei drummed his desktop.
"Our xenological information is limited," Hauksberg said. "And o'
course we won't exactly get childlike trust at first. Be most helpful if
you'd urge the, ah, Sixpoint to receive our delegation and listen to
'em."
"A joint commission, Terran and Merseian "
"Not yet, Commandant. Please, not yet. These'll be nothin' but
informal preliminary talks."
"What you mean," Runei said, "is that Admiral Enriques won't lend
men to any dealings that involve Merseians."
Correct.
"No, no. Nothin' so ungracious. Nothin' but a desire to avoid
complications. No reason why the sea people shouldn't keep you
posted as to what goes on, eh? But we have to know where we stand
with 'em; in fact, we have to know 'em much better before we can
make sensible suggestions; and you, regrettably, decline to share your
data."
"I am under orders," Runei said.
"Quite. Policy'll need to be modified on both sides before we can
cooperate worth mentionin', let alone think about joint commissions.
That sort o' problem is why I'm goin' on to Merseia."
"Those hoofs will stamp slowly."
"Hey? Oh. Oh, yes. We'd speak of wheels. Agreed, with the best will
in the universe, neither government can end this conflict overnight.
But we can make a start, you and us. We restrain the Kursovikians,
you restrain the Sixpoint. All military operations suspended in the
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Zletovar till further notice. You've that much discretionary power, I'm
sure."
"I do," Runei said. "You do. The natives may not agree. If they
decide to move, either faction, I am bound to support the sea people."
Or if you tell them to move,
Hauksberg thought.You may. In which case Enriques will have no
choice but to fight. However, I'll assume you're honest, that you'd
also like to see this affair wound up before matters get out of hand. I
have to assume that. Otherwise I can only go home and help Terra
prepare for interstellar war.
"You'll be gettin' official memoranda and such," he said. "This is
preliminary chit-chat. But I'll stay on, myself, till we see how our try
at a parley is shapin' up. Feel free to call on me at any time."
"Thank you. Good day, my lord."
"Good day, Com Fodaich." Though they had been using Anglic,
Hauksberg was rather proud of his Eriau.
The screen blanked. He lit a cigaret. Now what? Now you sit and
wait, m' boy. You continue gathering reports, conducting interviews,
making tours of inspection, but this is past the point of diminishing
returns, among these iron-spined militarists who consider you a
meddlesome ass. You'll see many an empty hour. Not much
amusement here. Good thing you had the foresight to take Persis
along.
He rose and drifted from the office to the living room. She sat there
watching the animation.Ondine again poor kid, the local tape library
didn't give a wide selection. He lowered himself to the arm of her
lounger and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was bare, in a low-cut
blouse; the skin felt warm and smooth, and he caught a violet hint of
perfume.
"Aren't you tired o' that thing?" he asked.
"No." She didn't quite take her eyes from it. Her voice was dark and
her mouth not quite steady. "Wish I were, though."
"Why?"
"It frightens me. It reminds me how far we are from home, the
strangeness, the And we're going on."
Half human, the mermaid floated beneath seas which never were.
"Merseia's p'rhaps a touch more familiar," Hauksberg said. "They
were already industrialized when humans discovered 'em. They
caught onto the idea of space travel fast."
"Does that make them anything like us? Does it make us like & like
ourselves?" She twisted her fingers together. "People say 'hyperdrive'
and 'light-year' so casually. They don't understand. They can't or
won't. Too shallow."
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"Don't tell me you've mastered the theory," he jollied her.
"Oh, no. I haven't the brain. But I tried. A series of quantum jumps
which do not cross the small intervening spaces, therefore do not
amount to a true velocity and are not bound by the light-speed
limitation & sounds nice and scientific to you, doesn't it? You know
what it sounds like to me? Ghosts flitting forever in darkness. And
have you ever thought about a light-year, one measly light-year,
howhuge it is?"
"Well, well." He stroked her hair. "You'll have company."
"Your staff. Your servants. Little men with little minds. Routineers,
yes-men, careerists who've laid out their own futures on rails. They're
nothing, between me and the night. I'm sick of them, anyway."
"You've me," he said.
She smiled a trifle. "Present company excepted. You're so often
busy, though."
"We'll have two or three Navy chaps with us. Might interest you.
Diff'rent from courtiers and bureaucrats."
She brightened further. "Who?"
"Well, Commander Abrams and I got talkin', and next thing I knew
I'd suggested he come along as our expert on the waterfolk. We could
use one. Rather have that Ridenour fellow, 'course; he's the real
authority, insofar as Terra's got any. But on that account, he can't be
spared here." Hauksberg drew in a long tail of smoke. "Obvious
dangers involved. Abrams wouldn't leave his post either, if he didn't
think this was a chance to gather more information than he can on
Starkad. Which could compromise our mission. I still don't know but
what I was cleverly maneuvered into co-optin' him."
"That old bear, manipulating you?" Persis actually giggled.
"A shrewd bear. And ruthless. Fanatical, almost. However, he can
be useful, and I'll be sure to keep a spot on him. Daresay he'll bring an
aide or two. Handsome young officers, hm?"
"You're handsome and young enough for me, Mark." Persis rubbed
her head against him.
Hauksberg chucked his cigaret at the nearest disposal. "I'm not so
frightfully busy, either."
The day was raw and overcast, with whitecaps on a leaden sea.
Wind piped in rigging; timbers creaked; theArcher rocked. Astern lay
the accompanying fleet, hove to. Banners snapped from mastheads.
One deck was covered by a Terra-conditioned sealtent. But Dragoika's
vessel bore merely a tank and a handful of humans. She and her crew
watched impassive as Ridenour, the civilian head of xenological
studies, went to release the Siravo.
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He was a tall, sandy-haired man; within the helmet, his face was
intense. His fingers moved across the console of the vocalizer
attached to one wall. Sounds boomed forth which otherwise only a sea
dweller's voice bladder could have made.
The long body in the tank stirred. Those curiously human lips
opened. An answer could be heard. John Ridenour nodded. "Very
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