Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [37]
Unable to meet the ameythstine eyes of the alien seated across from him, a disconcerted Saluafata removed his own reader from its case and scrolled down the list of items that had been placed on the agenda. The cool, detached print helped him to regain his personal and professional equilibrium. But it was not easy. Every time he looked up, the purple eyes of his counterpart were there, gazing across the conference table in his direction. They made him want to think of anything except business. It did not help when she spoke first.
“The Dominion of the Twin Worlds extends its greetings to the people of Earth on this congenial day. We look forward to listening to whatever you have to say.”
Diplomats should not have voices like that, the minister felt. It conferred an unfair advantage on the speaker that had nothing whatsoever to do with the issues under discussion. It made him think of somnolent days on deserted beaches, of hammocks caressed by emollient breezes, and cold, tangy fruit drinks placed close at hand. It made him think of…
“We receive the representatives of the Dominion,” he heard himself responding, “in friendship and with high hopes for a mutually agreeable and successful culmination of our discussions. I presume that you have all had an opportunity to examine the formal proposal that was conveyed to your equivalent agency or department?”
To Saluafata’s disappointment, it was the male seated across from Ymir who next spoke. As for himself, he wanted only to sit and listen to the female speak, to have her words nuzzle his ears like the lingering warmth of a perfect sunset on the eyes. Not that there was anything wrong with the male’s voice, as the first cracks in HoOdam’s armor of diplomatic distance showed.
“The matter has been studied,” the irresponsibly handsome male responded. “You wish our permission to begin settling your people on the world you have chosen to call Argus Five, also Treetrunk.”
Saluafata nodded. Flanking him, Ymir and HoOdam struggled to present a businesslike demeanor. That did not keep them from stealing surreptitious glances at the radiant comeliness of the three Pitar. If the visitors noticed this unprofessional attention or took exception to it they gave no sign. Presumably, the minister thought, they were used to it by now.
“That is correct.” The special chair provided enough room for him to shift importantly on the reinforced seat. “Naturally, we understand that you may have hesitations. Let me assure you that my government is prepared to compensate or negotiate further on any particular objectionable aspects of this proposal, no matter how numerous. We are willing to work with you on this for as long as may be necessary to ensure that both sides are completely comfortable with the ultimate resolution of the matter. We can offer you…”
“There are no hesitations.” The female cut him off softly. “There are no objections. The Dominion of the Twin Worlds does not object to the settlement of the world known as Treetrunk by the people of Earth.”
Having prepared himself and his staff for lengthy, difficult negotiations, for an extended period of give-and-take, for argument and dissention, the minister was more than a little taken aback by the unexpected and to all intents and purposes unqualified grant of rights. He stalled for a few moments to gather his swirling thoughts.
“I need to make certain we understand one another.” He addressed the female. For him her companions had ceased to exist, though not for Ymir or HoOdam. “You are saying that you grant us permission to settle as many colonists as we wish on the one habitable world of the system in question, without restriction or covenant?”
The male on the left of the woman with the look of a shallow sea replied. “Without restriction or covenant, yes. You may begin whenever you wish. We will not interfere.”
“I don’t understand.” HoOdam felt