Free Into Tolari Space (Tales of Tolari Space) by Christie Meierz Page A

said. “I do not wish my neighbors to be ... alarmed ... by your arrival.”
    “Of course.”
    “You may bring one companion,” the Monral continued. “An aide or advisor.”
    Smithton hesitated. Central Command protocol forbid high-ranking diplomats to visit a newly-contacted planet without an escort.
    “I pledge my life to your safety, Ambassador,” the Monral said, seeming to guess the reason for his hesitance. “I will walk into the dark before I allow you to come to harm.”
    Smithton rocked back on his heels. The Terosha information could be a little vague on most Tolari customs, but it was very clear about what constituted an insult. It would be a potent insult to doubt the Monral’s word after he pledged his life on it.
    “You honor me, high one,” Smithton said. “I will arrive after nightfall.”
    The Monral made a gesture, and the connection went dead. The bridge monitor cut to a view of the planet below them.
    It was an arresting sight. Tolar was so unspoiled, so pristine, populated by a technologically-backward people, a race of scholars and farmers and artisans with an ancient culture. And it occupied a curiously unclaimed bubble of space between the A’aan’, the Kekrax, and the Fer. A perfect location for a trade hub.
    “Well?” prompted the Admiral.
    Vice Admiral John Howard was a trim man in his mid-fifties, medium in height and grey of hair, regarding him with piercing grey eyes. Howard was also studying Tolari, but it was a fiendish language, complex and tonal. The difference between a polite greeting and an exhortation to stick a hand in a jar of sea water was determined not just by whether the speaker’s tone was rising or falling, but by how far it rose or fell. Subtle inflections indicated whether the speaker was addressing a superior, an equal, or an inferior.
    Smithton had needed an exhausting year of intensive study to master it, even with the vocabulary implants provided for a steep fee by Earth’s nearest neighbors in the Trade Alliance, the insectoid Terosha Federation. He knew the Admiral could have understood little of the conversation.
    “Addie and I are going down there for a few days,” he said. “Alone.”
    Howard crossed his arms over his chest, his face set. “Not a chance. If anything happens to you, I’ll be court-martialed for letting you go down without an escort. And I’ll deserve it.”
    “Damn it, John, that was a provincial ruler on the call. He pledged his life we would be safe. It puts his honor on the line. If we doubt his word, it’s an insult. A grave one.”
    “I can’t let you do it, Smit.”
    “Then I’ll have to call him back and explain I can’t accept his invitation because my damn government’s damned idiot protocols won’t allow me to meet his conditions, and Earth ends up insulting a Tolari monarch. What a great way to promote peace and good will.”
    The Admiral snorted. “You diplomats are a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
    Smithton gave his old friend a smug grin. Then he rubbed his face. “What time is it in Monralar?” he asked. “I’d like to get some more sleep before we go, if I can.”
    “Midday, sir,” said a voice behind him. It was the young lieutenant at comms.
    Smithton grunted his thanks and headed back to his quarters to sleep, Addie in tow.
    * * *
    The Monral leaned back into his chair and allowed himself a satisfied smile. This was a promising start. The humans would be arriving at full dark to negotiate with him. With him , the Monral, right under the Sural’s nose and without his knowledge. He chuckled to himself at the thought of what the Sural could do when he discovered a long-time enemy had brokered an agreement with the Trade Alliance’s most powerful race. Nothing. His smile broadened. The Sural would be compelled by honor to keep the agreement. It would gall him.
    Irritating the Sural, the provincial ruler of Suralia and anointed leader of Tolar’s ruling caste, was merely a welcome bonus.