However, whether they were moral creatures on the Eightfold Path or not, they were—as a species—terrifying. Rownt shuttles were as large as human battleships, and the newsvids showing the Rownt orbital ships had sent some people into hysteria, or in the current situation, drove them to protest uselessly outside Command’s gates.
While Haru wasn’t a fan of having any aliens on Earth, he saw no point in protesting. It wasn’t as if Command had given the Rownt permission to land. When they had first appeared in-system after a round of negotiation on Gauss-4, Command had issued general evacuation orders for the large cities, and a number of areas had suffered riots. So no one was under the illusion that Command had encouraged the Rownt to come to Earth. The Rownt simply had the technology to prevent defensive satellites from locking onto their hulls.
And Command had thought them provincial, underdeveloped turtles good only to provide raw ore and an underground pornography that made its way through the lower ranks. Unless Haru missed his guess, more than one head had rolled over that mistake. While Haru was aware that careers had been ruined by Munson and the Rownt, he had sought this assignment because other careers were being made. General Dafaor had earned a promotion and transfer back to Earth based on his ability to get the Grandmothers to trade.
Lieutenant Ratos spoke over the comm. “Sir, Lieutenant Munson is here to see you.”
Haru cringed. He had briefed Ratos on appropriate protocol, including using Munson’s Rownt title. “Send Tuk-Palteia Munson right in,” he answered.
Haru stood, and seconds later Munson walked in the door with a smile. Or rather he ducked to avoid the top of the door before walking in. “The lieutenant appears to have given me a demotion,” he said with amusement.
“I’ll speak to him about that,” Haru promised. He had read the briefing reports, so he could imagine that a man who had been systematically abused for as long as Munson had been would guard his titles. After all, they were proof of the respect he had claimed. More than that, Haru didn’t want to disrespect Munson because his work had earned him the right to be called tuk, which Haru understood was either a colonel or a general. From a Rownt perspective, Munson might outrank him, although Command still considered him a lieutenant.
“It’s fine. I’m sure he’s more used to Earth titles.” Munson appeared to dismiss the issue. “So, Colonel, I understand you would like to discuss osmium.”
Munson’s quick transition to the issue of trade caught Haru off-balance. “Command had hoped to discuss trade. Is Tuk-Ondry not available?”
“He is, but he’s working on another deal, so I came to trade,” Munson said, and again, Haru got the impression Munson was amused. When Haru gestured toward a chair, Munson sat without any of the discomfort Haru had expected from a man with Munson’s past. “How much ore would Command like?” he asked.
Haru sat on the other visitor’s chair. He hoped it would be less confrontational than a conversation over his desk. “We had hoped for fifty pounds.” That was twice what Haru’s superiors had asked for, but the Rownt were shrewd negotiators, and Haru needed to push hard if he hoped to get anything approximating a reasonable price.
Munson nodded slowly. “That’s a large order, but the Tura Coalition can fill it. The question is why we would want to, given that we would have to reduce our sales to the Imshee.”
Imshee. The Rownt had mentioned that species and their technology, but neither Haru nor his superiors knew whether to believe the Rownt claim that another highly sophisticated species lived within visiting distance of Earth. Claiming to have other clients was a classic move to increase the price during negotiations. Imshee might be the Rownt word for let’s-trick-these-suckers-into-paying-too-much. Sadly, with the damnable War of the Colonies going on, Earth was willing to pay far too much. The public relations department was touting the fall of Landing as the end of the war, but the Ribelians were far too fanatical to give up simply because they had lost.
The worst part was that Haru sympathized with their anger over Earth’s treatment of Ribelo-born citizens, but once the war started, the opportunity for sympathy or peace ended, and Earth would take Ribelo back, even if it had to destroy the entire planet to accomplish the goal.
Haru ran his fingertip over the stitching on the arm of the chair. “What sort of goods are you interested in? I understand texts are popular.”
“They were,” Munson said, “but since the Rownt have come this far, they’ve electronically raided libraries across several human planets. The uniqueness of human literature has dimmed, and with it, the value.”
Haru pursed his lips. He had hoped to make a deal they could both profit from, but apparently the easy trades Munson had made while on Prarownt were no longer viable options. “So what is still popular?”
Liam pursed his lips. “Spices, uniquely crafted artwork, handmade textiles or silks, teas, unique gemstones, although something like a diamond is ubiquitous and nearly worthless in trade. They’re interested in plant specimens or difficult-to-obtain DNA strands, such as fossilized DNA samples from extinct animals.” He stopped and blew out a breath. “Surprise me with an offer, and maybe I’ll get interested in something I had never considered.”
Haru raised his eyebrows.
Munson’s smile grew wider. “And if you find something I think is interesting, I’ll even answer the question you aren’t asking.”
“Which is?”
“What happened to me to make me so tall?”
Haru leaned back. “You’re assuming we want to know.”
“I’m human, so I know you’re dying of curiosity,” Munson said without an ounce of doubt. “But among Rownt, information is the greatest trade good, so I can’t give it away.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” Haru mentally reordered his budget and considered how he might pull a few strings to get access to the boutique goods Munson appeared to favor.
“I wouldn’t be in trouble; I would, however, kick myself for missing a great opportunity for profit.”
This meeting had gone sideways, and that left Haru feeling wrong-footed and awkward. And yet Munson, a submissive subordinate with a long history of abuse, crossed his legs at the ankles and let his gaze travel the room with cool curiosity. Haru watched him.
The changes in Munson went far beyond the physical. Unlike most people raised on one of the continents, Munson appeared to have more patience with silence, and that had not been noted in any of the evaluation paperwork. Haru had read everything Command had on Munson, back to day one. The intake staff had reported that young Munson was fidgety and uncomfortable, although they had noted that he was barely old enough to sign up for service, and fear could have contributed to the lack of focus. His later evaluations had followed a similar theme, although Lieutenant Spooner had reported that Liam’s hyperactivity and occasional lapses of judgment were paired with a rare brilliance at language.
However, the man in Haru’s office had a calm strength and an aura that made Haru wish he had thought to prepare a tea. Eventually, however, Munson did react to the long silence. He turned his attention to Haru, and he raised his eyebrows in a clear query.
While convention and propriety would have Haru avoid certain subjects, he had learned to trust his gut. So he spoke his mind. “You are not what I expected.”