“‘Sun-time’?”
Darzhee Kut seemed to relax, raised one claw in a gesture that looked partly like the invitation of a raconteur, partly like the still, upraised finger of a didact. “To understand sun-time you must understand my race. Specifically, its reproductory habits.”
Trevor winced.
If Darzhee Kut noticed, he gave no external indication of it. “We are creatures of the earth, the rock, of close chambers that embrace us, of tunnels that caress our bellies and backs. But when the song of our birth-triad fills our hearts and quickens our blood to that point where we must sing as one in all ways, we suddenly long for a sensation which, the rest of the time, terrifies us.”
“You return to the surface, to see the sun.”
“Your voice sings true. It is just so. The rays of heat, the great brightness, the open vault above: so expansive is our passion, that, at this one time, the wide world above the rock harmonizes with what is most immediate and true in us. And so this is where we mate.”
Trevor leaned back. “And that—that ‘state of mind’ is a bad thing?” Not that I want to hear more about your orgasmic nature-walks.
“It is not bad, but it is necessarily brief.”
Caine was nodding again. “Because it’s also dangerous. You’re vulnerable on the surface, and what brings you there is an altered state of mind which compromises your self-control.”
Darzhee Kut was still for a moment. “You hear the harmonies of the Arat Kur far in advance, Spokesperson Riordan. It was our great misfortune that we did not share them with you at the Convocation.”
Trevor glanced over at Caine, who clearly had not made the connection yet, and pointed at the Arat Kur. “I’ve heard your name before. You were, were—”
Darzhee Kut’s sensors declined lightly. “I was to be the Speaker-to-Nestless for the Arat Kur Wholenest at the Convocation. It was so announced on the first day. But Zirsoo was thought more—capable.”
Caine’s eyes narrowed. “By whom?”
“By both Zirsoo Kh’n and First Delegate Hu’urs Khraam.”
“And let me guess. They were both great singers of the dirge that is humanity.”
“Among its very loudest and most accomplished soloists. So now you begin to see.”
“Possibly. It sounds as though there was much division among the Arat Kur regarding how best to interact with humanity.”
“Yes. Among those who knew enough.”
“And what knowledge was withheld from those who did not ‘know enough’?”
“Some of the answer to that question is composed of notes which I may not sing. And that imposition of silence made me question how effective I could be as the Speaker to your race.”
Trevor frowned. “So you’re not a soldier at all. You’re a—a diplomat.”
“This might be the best word for it. I would suggest ‘official liaison,’ for I have no power to propose or conclude agreements with other species or states. That is the role of a Delegate.”
Caine put out an entreating hand. “Then please forgive us for holding you prisoner. It was a consequence of our ignorance of your language, and your ways. Allow us to extend to you the courtesies and privileges of a diplomatic attaché. However, we must impose certain limits upon these, since our governments are currently at war.”
Again, the scrunch-bow of the Arat Kur. “I graciously accept, and extend the same to you. And because of this, may I further suggest that we signal my fleet directly, so that they may extend a more suitable and complete measure of hospitality to you?”
Trevor frowned. “You mean, take us prisoners.”
“Mr. Corcoran, I see no uniform, so I presume that, as was true at the Convocation, you are either off-duty or discharged from military service?”
“Well—yes.”
“Then your last status so far as I am concerned is as the military expert of your species’ diplomatic delegation to the Convocation. Therefore, it would be incorrect and illegal to hold you prisoner. You, too, are entitled to diplomatic status.”
Well, this Darzhee Kut may be an overgrown cockroach—but he’s a damn mannerly one. Trevor looked at Caine. “What do you think?”
“I think making a contact which just might allow us to curtail bloodshed is a whole hell of a lot better than simultaneously dying of rads, asphyxiation, thirst, and starvation.”
“Okay. And Darzhee Kut, I want to apologize for what happened regarding your craft,” Trevor said.
“It was war. Sadly, that is explanation enough.”
“It’s a little worse than that. We are concerned that you saw our diplomatic transponder code and thought it safe to approach.”
“This is so. But tell me, was this incorrect signal a mistake, or a ruse?”
“A mistake.”
“Then you shall not be held accountable for it. We need discuss it no further. Shall we summon my rock-siblings?”
Caine nodded, handed him his collarcom. “With this, you can control our communications array with verbal commands. Tell me when you are ready to send your message.”
Darzhee Kut accepted the delicate silver device in two careful claws, turned away to begin composing a message.
“Darzhee Kut,” Caine asked, “may I interrupt?”
“Certainly.”
“Will we be traveling with your fleet?”
“Yes.”
“So can you tell us where we are going next?”
“I can.” He turned. “We are going home.”
“To Sigma Draconis.”
“My apologies: I was not clear. We are not going to my home. We are going to yours.” His eyes seemed to lower, almost as if he were embarrassed. “We are going to Earth.”
Chapter Fourteen
“With your return, the rocknest is made whole again, Darzhee Kut.”
Darzhee Kut made the customary response. “In returning to its harmonies, I live again.”
His rock-sibling Urzueth Ragh extended his sensory polyps in unrestrained joy. “We all feared to soon sing your dirge. But since your rescue, some have hummed haunting notes of the lay of your life among the humans. Was it as terrible as we feared?”
“It was not as I expected it to be. I was alone for days before—”
“So it is true. Your crew, Rzzekh and Iistrur, sing no more.”
“They sing no more. So when the humans came, it was a strange sensation.”
“Explicate.”
“I feared them, prepared for them—”
“Trapped them, I heard.”
“As our forebears did their prey and foes, yes. But I was also relieved when they arrived. I had been without association for so long.”
“I understand.”
“You do not. It became worse. When they took me prisoner, they set me off by myself.”
“They left you alone? Alone? For how long?”
“I do not know. Many hours.”
“And you can still harmonize? You are hewn from strong rock, Darzhee Kut.”
“This ability is a prerequisite for those of us in the Ee’ar caste who would explore new places or associations. In contacting other species, we might spend time in isolation.”
“I do not envy you the tunnel you dig, rock-sibling. Did they understand what they were doing to you?”
“No. The humans eventually apologized, but only for putting me in a large, high, empty room. This leads me to believe that they thought it was agoraphobia alone which caused my reaction.”