An Envoy Received

David MacDonald listened to shipsvoice count down to emergence. He remembered Maritimus, and the armada's 16,000 blips, and couldn't imagine the Commonwealth producing a viable defense. Yet twice there'd been battles, and the last one had shaken up not only the flagship, but Qonits as well.

And apparently the admiral. Otherwise why send an envoy to Terra? And on the sneak, as if Quanshuk couldn't rely on his officers. If that was true, how could negotiations possibly succeed?

They emerged into deep, star-glittered blackness, one star far brighter than any other, uncomfortable to more than glance at. It had to be Sol; they'd emerged just half a day earlier to orient themselves for this jump.

Shipsvoice spoke while words scuttled across the navscreen, all unintelligible to him. "We are within a million miles of a pod beacon," Qonits said. "A useful locational reference, and a good omen."

Good omen, David echoed mentally. Wishful thinking.

Qonits poised a hand above a rocker switch and looked questioningly at him. "Try it," David said. The Wyzhnyny touched it. A HUD marked with three symbols-perhaps a Wyzhnyny acronym-appeared on the "window." Looking at David, Qonits gestured at the mike. "Speak," he said softly.

David licked his lips. "War House, War House, War House." The words felt strange to him. At one time they'd been a mockery. It was said that in Proto-Terran-essentially Old Anglic-the words had meant a brothel. War House had long been regarded as a perverse waste of time, a place where grown men spent years in a universe of make believe. How that viewpoint must have changed!

"This is David MacDonald. David MacDonald. Research leader of the Maritimus Project. I am on an alien long-range scout in the vicinity of a pod beacon. On an alien long-range scout in the vicinity of a pod beacon.

"I've been a prisoner on the invaders' flagship for more than a year. I have come here with Lord Qonits of the Wyzhnyny Empire. Lord Qonits of the Wyzhnyny Empire. I am his guide and aide. Lord Qonits is the envoy of Grand Admiral Quanshuk, of the Wyzhnyny armada. The grand admiral has sent him to discuss possible peace terms. Repeat: peace terms." He paused. "We will remain where we are, and await an escort. Repeat: We will remain where we are and await an escort."

He switched off the mike. It would take about six hours for the message to reach Terra, and the government would take-How long? A day? An hour? A minute?-to decide what to make of this, and respond. Or perhaps decide that someone was hoaxing them. Six hours after that would bring the reply. Unless a courier was sent via warpspace, or some system patrol craft intercepted his message and responded sooner.

He turned to Qonits. "Now we wait," he said.

Qonits nodded. They were used to waiting. They'd done long weeks of it. Long but not idle weeks. Most of their waking hours had been spent in the expansion and refinement of Qonits' Terran, until it seemed to David the chief scholar spoke it better than he did. Qonits had remarkable recall, and approximated human phonemes about as well as a Wyzhnyny ever could, without electronic enhancement. Meanwhile their busyness minimized David's fretting about Yukiko, and Qonits' about what might have happened to Quanshuk when he'd announced what he'd done.

Now, while waiting for an escort, Qonits explained the seven Wyzhnyny genders, which clarified a lot for the Terran. And David elaborated on Terran and Commonwealth history. After a bit they napped. David's dreams were strange but not troubling. Qonits's were troubling enough for both of them.

The long-range scout remained parked for ten hours, then its two occupants were picked up by a courier. On the trip insystem, both passengers, secured in their seats, slept again as if they'd been sleep deprived. The copilot wakened them when he emerged from warpspace above Kunming. Near enough that Qonits could appreciate the city's layout, but high enough to give it context. Looking southeast across 400 miles of grasslands and forests, they could see the Gulf of Tonkin. Northwestward, the view was dominated by the deep rugged gorges and towering snow-topped ridges and peaks of the Yun Ling Shan. To the east, spreading to the horizon, lay tawny farmland with intermittent woodlands.

To David MacDonald it was unbelieveably beautiful. He wished Yukiko were there to see it with him. For Qonits the view was interesting and aesthetic, and for the moment he forgot his mission-its responsibilities and dubious prospects.

The radio snatched their attention. Internal Security had further instructions for the pilot. They didn't want Qonits seen by the public. Not yet. His presence would no doubt leak, but let it seem only an unlikely rumor.

The city drew nearer, details multiplying, sharpening. Then they were above the Palace of Worlds, lowering quietly, unremarkably to its roofpad. There was no band, or red carpet, and the squad of marines who met them wore dress greens, not ceremonial whites. Looking hard and businesslike, if a bit distracted. They'd never seen a Wyzhnyny before, of course, nor any sapient alien. To them, Qonits looked bizarre and dangerous.

If anyone imagines these people won't talk about this, David thought, they're crazy. It seemed to him he got almost as many looks as Qonits. He wondered if they considered him a hero or a turncoat. Try victim, he suggested silently.

The president and prime minister waited in business clothes, without insignia. David had never, of course, seen either of them in person, but they were familiar from newscasts. It was to the much shorter, thicker-bodied human he gave precedence, ad-libbing. "Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister," he said, "it is my honor to present to you Ambassador Qonits, chief scholar and personal envoy of Grand Admiral Quanshuk, Ruler of the Seventh Swarm."

David turned to Qonits then. "Mr. Ambassador," he said, "it is my honor to introduce to you the honorable Chang Lung-Chi, President of the Commonwealth of Worlds. And the honorable Foster Peixoto, his prime minister."

Qonits was surprised at Foster Peixoto's height, and wondered what gender he might be. Meanwhile he bowed slightly: David had coached him. "I am deeply honored," he said.

"I too am honored, Mr. Ambassador," the prime minister answered. It was the president's reply that surprised both Qonits and David: "It is good you come here," he said-in understandable Wyzhnynyc! It suggested to them that somehow, somewhere, the government had had contact with other Wyzhnyny. Actually, the recorded language lessons (as one-sided as most had been), the limited exchanges between Qonits and his bodyguards, and Annika's mixed channeling of the fitness hearing had been enough for the government's powerful artificial intelligence to create a partial and provisional translation program. And Chang Lung-Chi had taken the opportunity to learn this simple (and ungrammatical) phrase as a courtesy.

Chang and Peixoto, of course, knew what Qonits did not-that the armada was under a new regime, one not interested in negotiating. But Qonits could be a valuable information source, and at any rate, for the president, decency was natural. And judging from the hearing, Qonits was cut off forever from his own people.

No time had been scheduled for resting or getting acquainted. The two human leaders felt strongly pressed by the oncoming armada. Thus, shortly after their introduction, Qonits and David were led through a private corridor to a sitting room in the president's wing. A luncheon had been set for four, and a seat hurriedly improvised for Qonits. He declined to use it, explaining that "persons with four legs commonly stand to eat."