Like the seats in the regular first-class cars, both the table and chairs were set on sliders that would allow them to be moved freely around the room, yet locked securely in place wherever they were placed. Built into the front wall was a top-of-the-line entertainment center, ready to provide music and dit recs to help a traveler pass the time, while late-night thirst or munchies could be taken care of via the rack of beverages and finger foods on the opposite wall. The final touch was the floor design, done in a furstone mosaic that seemed to be commemorating some grand and glorious event in Halkan history.
“Ah,” a deep voice said from behind me. “My guests.”
I turned, setting down my carrybags beside the geodium table. A medium-sized Juri stood by one of the rainbird cages, poking slender green shoots through the bars for the birds to nibble on. “May I present High Commissioner JhanKla of the Fifth Sector Assembly of the Halkavisti Empire,” Rastra said formally. “This is Mr. Frank Compton and his assistant Bayta of the Terran Confederation.”
“Yes,” JhanKla said, his bulldog eyes gazing steadily at us from his flat face. He wore the distinctive tri-color layered robes of the Halkan Peerage, this particular red/orange/purple color scheme identifying him as a member of the Polobia branch. “The Humans who helped rescue my honor.”
The words were polite enough, but I could hear the underlying edge of blame for precipitating the trouble in the first place. “We were glad to assist, Your Eminence,” I replied, deciding that the polite thing to do would be to accept the statement at face value. “I’m sure you’d have done the same for us had the situation been reversed.”
“The situation would not have been reversed,” he countered. “Humans do not treasure honor as Halkas do.”
“No, some of us don’t,” I said, looking straight back into those eyes. “But others of us do.”
For a long moment he returned my gaze without speaking. I was working on a Plan B, something that would put us at the other end of the Quadrail, when he gave a short bark. “Correction accepted,” he said. Flicking his last shoot the rest of the way into the birdcage, he stepped over to join us. “You are not what I expected, Mr. Compton. Welcome aboard this small and unimpressive corner of the Halkavisti Empire.”
“We are honored, Your Eminence,” I said, making the sort of hunchbacked stoop that was the closest a human could get to a proper Halkan chest-bow. “And I apologize for whatever discomfort or embarrassment we may have caused you in this matter.”
JhanKla made a multifrequency rumble. “The fault lies with the criminals who perpetrated the act,” he said. “Their shame is even now being returned to the universe by fire.” He paused, then gave me a genuine chest-bow. “I apologize in turn for implying any dishonor rests with you for bringing their crime to light. If such were the case, no officer of the law could ever face his family and people.”
Indeed he could not,” I agreed, starting to relax a little. In my admittedly limited experience with Halkas, I’d found they had a tendency to take offense way too quickly, but that most of them calmed down and saw reason if you gave them enough time. JhanKla seemed to be falling nicely into that pattern. “My only regret is that we may never know what it was that killed them.”
“Not at all,” JhanKla said. “It was their own act of greed that brought their destruction. The knife stolen from my lockbox was an antique belonging to my family. Its blade was protected from corrosion by a chemical which also happens to be a deadly toxin.”
“Ah,” I said. “That would explain the one who was cut during the struggle.”
“Yes,” JhanKla said, his sideburn fur bristling in a Halkan shrug. “As to the other, he must have sustained a superficial cut earlier when they first broke into the lockbox.”
“Which would explain why the
“Ah,” a deep voice said from behind me. “My guests.”
I turned, setting down my carrybags beside the geodium table. A medium-sized Juri stood by one of the rainbird cages, poking slender green shoots through the bars for the birds to nibble on. “May I present High Commissioner JhanKla of the Fifth Sector Assembly of the Halkavisti Empire,” Rastra said formally. “This is Mr. Frank Compton and his assistant Bayta of the Terran Confederation.”
“Yes,” JhanKla said, his bulldog eyes gazing steadily at us from his flat face. He wore the distinctive tri-color layered robes of the Halkan Peerage, this particular red/orange/purple color scheme identifying him as a member of the Polobia branch. “The Humans who helped rescue my honor.”
The words were polite enough, but I could hear the underlying edge of blame for precipitating the trouble in the first place. “We were glad to assist, Your Eminence,” I replied, deciding that the polite thing to do would be to accept the statement at face value. “I’m sure you’d have done the same for us had the situation been reversed.”
“The situation would not have been reversed,” he countered. “Humans do not treasure honor as Halkas do.”
“No, some of us don’t,” I said, looking straight back into those eyes. “But others of us do.”
For a long moment he returned my gaze without speaking. I was working on a Plan B, something that would put us at the other end of the Quadrail, when he gave a short bark. “Correction accepted,” he said. Flicking his last shoot the rest of the way into the birdcage, he stepped over to join us. “You are not what I expected, Mr. Compton. Welcome aboard this small and unimpressive corner of the Halkavisti Empire.”
“We are honored, Your Eminence,” I said, making the sort of hunchbacked stoop that was the closest a human could get to a proper Halkan chest-bow. “And I apologize for whatever discomfort or embarrassment we may have caused you in this matter.”
JhanKla made a multifrequency rumble. “The fault lies with the criminals who perpetrated the act,” he said. “Their shame is even now being returned to the universe by fire.” He paused, then gave me a genuine chest-bow. “I apologize in turn for implying any dishonor rests with you for bringing their crime to light. If such were the case, no officer of the law could ever face his family and people.”
Indeed he could not,” I agreed, starting to relax a little. In my admittedly limited experience with Halkas, I’d found they had a tendency to take offense way too quickly, but that most of them calmed down and saw reason if you gave them enough time. JhanKla seemed to be falling nicely into that pattern. “My only regret is that we may never know what it was that killed them.”
“Not at all,” JhanKla said. “It was their own act of greed that brought their destruction. The knife stolen from my lockbox was an antique belonging to my family. Its blade was protected from corrosion by a chemical which also happens to be a deadly toxin.”
“Ah,” I said. “That would explain the one who was cut during the struggle.”
“Yes,” JhanKla said, his sideburn fur bristling in a Halkan shrug. “As to the other, he must have sustained a superficial cut earlier when they first broke into the lockbox.”
“Which would explain why the
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