Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [40]
Much as he luxuriated in the presence of the seductive Pitar, it was not all pleasure. There was business to be conducted. There had to be, or the aliens would have ignored him. Frivolity and fun did not seem to be part of their interspecies lexicon. Polite, pleasant, ingratiating even, they drew the line at convivial intimacy. It was a wall that the immensely gregarious minister was determined to break down. Within the government, subordinates and superiors alike were fond of remarking that Saluafata’s girth was exceeded only by his charm. The contrast between sharp mind and boyish charisma struck everyone who came in contact with him, if one could call a man who weighed nearly two hundred kilos “boyish.”
Yet his most sincere efforts to break down their inherent reserve resulted in nothing more than courteous smiles from the Pitar. Masking his disappointment, he persisted in his attempts, all the while conducting the people’s business.
This was difficult to do on a beach, where accompanied by Ymir he met four of the Pitar for an informal discussion on issues of mutual interest. It was difficult because one of them was the female who had presided over the negotiations that gave rights of colonization of Argus V to the people of Earth.
Slightly more hot natured than the average human, the Pitar enjoyed relaxing if not stiffly basking in the tropical sun. This they normally did in the absence of clothes. Even though the beach lay within the diplomatic compound and was screened and guarded, they had reluctantly agreed to make concessions to the inexplicable vagaries of contemporary human culture. Swimsuits had been provided for all four. The most they would tolerate were small swimsuits. Very small. Guards and privacy screens notwithstanding, the utter absence of these strategic strips of fabric might well have provoked a riot among the ever-hungry media.
Focusing on the business of diplomacy, or anything else for that matter, in the presence of the gem-eyed, statuesque female was not easy. Despite the envy others might feel at his perceived good fortune, Saluafata actually worked harder at such times to earn his stipend than he did in more formal surroundings.
As they sat in folding beach chairs that were the property of the government and gazed at the unruffled silken surface of the lagoon, the minister confined his comments to matters of mutual interest. He did not try to make small talk. The Pitar did not engage in small talk, a characteristic that had been noted and remarked upon as early as their initial contact with the crew of the Chagos. But that did not mean that a speaker as voluble as Saluafata could not insinuate casual queries into an otherwise formal diplomatic conversation.
Noting that Ymir was cavorting in the water with a pair of support personnel from Administration, the minister leaned into the sun shadow of the female Pitar’s shape. “The water here is safe and warm, but I don’t see any of your people enjoying it.”
Piercing eyes turned to meet his, and she smiled at him: the standard polite, noncommittal Pitarian smile. “We see oceans as a resource. There is no other reason to enter them except for harvesting and development.”
To someone like Saluafata, raised on an island in the middle of the Pacific, such an opinion constituted a kind of heresy. Or would have, had it come from a human. Still, he found it hard to believe that the oh-so-similar Pitar did not even indulge in recreational bathing. It was an observation, however, that allowed him to segue to a minor but curious point of diplomatic contention.