Free Trang by Mary Sisson Page A

in negotiations
previously or had a history of bad-faith agreements, so there was a strong
atmosphere of suspicion.”
    The SFers stared at him
blankly—Philippe had no idea if they were impressed and simply being stoic, or
if they were too nervous to care, or if the notion of minimizing conflict
was so far out of their professional experience that they simply couldn’t
process it.
    He decided to return to his main
thrust. “I’m glad to say that in the five years since our presence became known
to the aliens, they have never behaved in a hostile or threatening
manner—indeed, we would not be on this mission had they done so. But we are,
nonetheless, a new and strange species for them—an unknown quantity, if you
will. Likewise, we know very little about them. For example, I have been
receiving briefings about the various alien species for the past six months,
and I can assure you that until Patch made his visit two days ago, no one had
the least idea that there was one aquatic species on that station, much less
two. No one even knew that there were nine species on that station—everyone
thought there were only seven.”
    Patch grinned and pumped his fists
in the air.
    “I’d like us to do all we can to
keep relations positive,” Philippe continued, smiling at the large soldier. “If
there are problems, I want the aliens to feel like they can come to us and have
a chance at a fair resolution. I want them to view us, if not as friends, at
least as unthreatening.
    “To that end, I’d like you to do a
little more than make sure your weapons are concealed when you’re in the common
areas—although I’d like you to do that, too.” They chuckled. “I’d like you to
be aware of your language, be aware of how it sounds to someone who doesn’t
understand the context and doesn’t know you. When you say, ‘I’m going to gouge
your eyes out, dog-fucker,’ that’s something that will probably translate
fairly accurately and could be easily misconstrued either as a sincere threat
or a terrible insult.”
    They were all looking a little
uneasy now, in part, Philippe knew, because his example was a direct quote of
something Shanti had said at dinner. It was a bit risky, but often the best way
to change a culture was to take on the leader who set the tone.
    “Another thing to bear in mind is
that there are nine species here, and we don’t know how they relate to each
other—they could all be very close allies, they could have already split into
distinct alliances that compete with each other, they could all have a history
of conflict. We have no idea. So please don’t talk about the aliens in front of
the aliens. Any questions?”
    Thorpe raised his hand. “What’s
your position on surveillance?”
    “As you know, all the relevant
agencies agree that covert surveillance at this time is inappropriate,”
Philippe replied. “We don’t know who to spy on; we don’t know what to look for.
We also don’t know what they could detect. It’s entirely possible that some of
the aliens can hear our broadcast frequencies, for example.
    “ Overt surveillance, on the
other hand, is something I would strongly encourage—look around and ask
questions; put what you find into your reports. So far, they’ve accepted our
requests to take video, so keep your cameras on unless you are specifically
asked to turn them off. We’ll be sending regular packages back to Union
Intelligence, and everybody should be contributing footage and reporting
anything they discover through conversation. Any other questions?”
    No one had any, so Shanti gave the
order and they loaded on to the ship. It was different from the one Philippe
rode to Titan: The pilots weren’t walled off from the main cabin, and Philippe
was seated directly behind Pinky, who true to his name had red hair and a pink
complexion.
    The only windows were those in
front of the pilots. There were no overhead compartments to store baggage:
Instead, the luggage was thrown,