Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [131]
“Excellent.” Haajujurprox started to rise, began to tremble, and slumped back toward the cushions. Her twin escorts rushed to assist the elderly di-eint.
Without realizing it, Yirghiz had started to do the same. It had been an instinctive gesture. Now he stood more slowly, watching as the two younger thranx assisted their elder in rising. One helped to support her while the other carefully removed the line of cushions from beneath the aged abdomen so that she would not have to step awkwardly over them.
Why had he started to go to her aid? The admiral found himself caught in a welter of unexpected emotions. Intelligent beyond doubt she was, but the emissary was still virtually a giant bug. He didn’t like bugs. But he found that he was very much starting to like this one.
Not a bug, he told himself firmly. It’s only the shape. Ignore the shape—or learn to see it differently.
MacCunn was speaking softly in his usual, clipped, formal tones. “We will work with the commanders of your vessels to include them in our general battle schematics. We certainly don’t expect them to lead any thrusts, but their status as active reserves will be most welcome.”
The di-eint rotated her head to a greater extreme than any human could manage in order to look back at the senior officer. “Don’t you trust us, Field Marshal MacCunn? Or do you need to first see dead thranx bodies floating in space to be convinced of our earnestness in this matter?” When he started to reply, she raised a hand to forestall him. Yirghiz was quietly amazed to see him comply.
“No, do not try to explain yourself. Though I have not experienced them personally, I am well aware of human feelings toward my kind. You cannot help it. In this and many other ways you are still prisoners of your primitive past. Given time and effort, we hope to be able to effect changes in that.”
Yirghiz stepped into the uncomfortable breach. “Blowing a few Pitarian warships out of existence would be an excellent way to begin.”
Haajujurprox gesticulated acknowledgment, not pausing to wonder if any of the humans in the room understood the meaning of the gesture.
Flanking their superiors, the two thranx and four human soldiers formed up an escort. The meeting concluded, they found themselves eying each other very differently than they had been when it had first commenced. The thranx studied the flexible, flowing movements of their bipedal counterparts with bemused curiosity, while the human soldiers could not keep themselves from inhaling deeply and repeatedly. Of such small exchanges are great events fashioned.
MacCunn was constitutionally unable to keep himself from discussing strategy, even during what should have been a walk marked by casual conversation.
“Your task force will complement our ships nicely in sector twelve. We’ve been weaker there than I would like for nearly two months now.”
“Task force?” Haajujurprox adjusted her valentine-shaped head to peer up at him.
“The one dreadnought you brought and the escorts that are accompanying it.” MacCunn smiled, wondering if the venerable thranx knew the meaning and intent of the expression.
“My dear Field Marshal MacCunn, cl!rrik, that is no task force. That is our scouting force. Subsequent to the final approval by your full government of the terms of our mutual arrangement, a substantial portion of the Hive fleet will arrive here within days. Less what is required to maintain the adequate defense of Hivehom, Trix, Willow-Wane, and Calm Nursery, of course. While the AAnn wait in hopes of seeing you weakened, they would be more eager still to take advantage of any perceived frailty on our part.”
MacCunn looked at Yirghiz, who was silent but visibly elated. “Then we can expect the assistance of a few more of your warships?”
“It is recognized that if the defense of Pitar is to be broken, any adjustment in the balance of forces must be significant. Otherwise the effort would be wasted.”
The two