Honor - Kevin Killiany [28]
Nothing.
Tabling any worry about her companion, Corsi considered their tactical situation.
She now remembered she was on Zhatyra II. Which meant the invaders were from Zhatyra III. Neither race had warp capability and the Prime Directive was in full effect. Actually, the people of Zhatyra III should not have had space flight. Their presence was as improbable as mid-twentieth-century Europe colonizing Mars.
No, that wasn’t true, strictly speaking. Zhatyra II and III passed very close to each other every…She couldn’t remember the interval. At least once a year for the outer world, she recalled. Close. Zhatyra II would be a tempting target dominating their night sky for months at a time—quite a motivator.
The communications laser wasn’t a mystery. Many cultures, whether because of the spectral behavior of their primary or their planet’s magnetic field or any of a dozen other factors including they just never thought of it, managed a high level of technology without developing radio. For a visually oriented culture laser communication was the logical extension of the semaphore.
The size of the laser and the violence of the beam were impressive. It indicated tremendous power being used very inefficiently. They couldn’t be firing something like that from inside their atmosphere. Did Zhatyra III have a moon? Probably.
Two things, maybe three, were clear. First, the invaders were here to stay; they didn’t have a choice. Second, their method of colonization was to reshape the world they’d found to fit their own image. And third, for whatever reason, they were coming after the K’k’tict. Given what she estimated was the invaders’ rate of progress chopping their road through the forest, they’d be to the edge of the world, and an easy walk from the tree town, in a couple of days.
Her rescuers were going to have to make a choice, and soon, between fighting and getting out of the way. Moving twenty thousand plus individuals would not be easy, but from what she’d seen, the K’k’tict weren’t likely to fight.
These last two suppositions, the impending genocide and the K’k’ticts’ refusal to fight, were confirmed by Copper when she found him reclining in the shade of a notch cut into the base of one of the roots. His eyes were bandaged, covered with leaves that no doubt held in place a poultice of some sort.
“We befriended the first of the Tznauk’t when they arrived,” he said. “They were beyond the edge of the world, but foragers had seen their silver leaf fall.”
World was banyan forest and silver leaf was glider, Corsi deduced. The first landing without a runway must have been rough.
“We met as many as we could so that we could know one another, but they did not understand,” Copper said. “They have a [consensus of one], which we do not fully understand. He is named Tzuntatalc.”
“Their leader,” Corsi supplied.
“[Consensus of one].” Copper nodded. “A difficult concept.”
The K’k’tict made decisions by consensus, Corsi realized. They didn’t have leaders. That certainly fit with her wandering tour. Every K’k’tict in the tree town had been given a chance to observe her so that each could make up his or her mind about their guest.
But what did that mean about the ruling class being pampered in the cave? Something else to find out after the current crisis was over.
“When you say they did not understand you,” Corsi said, trying to find a handle on the situation, “do you mean they didn’t understand your speech or did not understand your intent?”
“Both.” Copper sighed, remembering. “In the beginning I believe the Tznauk’t did not recognize our speech as speech. We tried speaking to them in their own language, but they use many sounds we cannot make. Our first efforts were clumsy. They were amused until we became more successful.”
Copper stopped speaking and simply sat, the weight of his upper torso on the elbows of his folded lower arms, and rocked.