Diplo Junk

20

Diplo Junk

    A week of Court life hadn’t done much for Jhl’s temper. Not even shopping expeditions with A’ailh’sa, K’t-Ln and M’ri had helped! They were on one today, so Jhl was encased in the appropriate ladylike gear. Vvlvanian-cursed scratchy. White with bright pink stripes. In places where the fabric could have been said to be running vertically, such as the arms, vertical stripes. However, such places were few and far between, and what with the tight diagonal draping across the stomach and bum, not to say the bows the stuff was festooned with at points that were entirely non-strategic, such as the top of one mammalian hip bone, just where the mammalian elbow joint could get really annoyed by encountering it when moving a fraction out of its normal relaxed position, not to say above the bum, where other and possibly more sensible beings had tails—what with all that, in short, Jhl felt quite dizzy whenever she inadvertently glanced down at herself.

    Ladies wore hats in summer in Wh’sh-fh’r. Jhl’s weighed about an IG ton, was barely kept in place even by the mini-web extending its best effort, and was approximately as wide as Dad’s main grqwary paddock. Unlike the paddock, it was striped in bright pink and white and slathered in striped bows and, curiously, some might have said though Jhl was past it, many fluffy white feathers. On one side the brim was pinned up, apparently in order for the one practical effect of the thing, to wit, shielding her ladylike face from the UV rays of the Old Rthfrdian yellow sun, to be nullified. The thing that was doing the pinning was a large shlaa quog brooch presented to her by His Royal Highness the Regent of Old Rthfrdia. So as you didn’t miss this point it had engraved on it two large R’s and an O. –R for “Rh’aiiy’hn”, O for “Old,” and R for “Rthfrdia”: get it? Every single item the man owned was slathered in this monogram: from the customized Moodra Dyhillia he wasn’t allowed to drive himself, to the table linen used in his private apartments, and right down to, so the Palace scuttlebutt went, his mn-mn silk underwear. Which Jhl had not, contrary to the hat brooch, personally inspected.

    K’t-Ln was very similar, except her stripes were bright blue. A’ailh’sa was in pale green with sparkly things in the ears. –Depending, if you looked closely, from small holes bored in the humanoid lobes, but being a hardened spacer Jhl had been able to take the sight of this primmo mutilation almost without a blink. M’ri actually looked coolish and almost comfortable. Her Royal Highness Mh’aii’rhi Roz apparently approved of M’ri’s developing relationship with the Hereditary Ruler of Old Rthfrdia. (Very possibly The Old Woman was in there somewhere but Jhl for one wasn’t looking too closely.) She had taken the girl firmly in hand, decreeing that “only very simple little frocks” were suitable for a girl of her age. It was white, loose-ish, and—well, comfortable-looking. Lucky kid.

    They were in an open cart—no, carriage, there was some essential difference which might have related to the amount of gilding on the thing and the number of cushions in the thing—in an open carriage drawn by four large horses any one of whom would have been more than capable, as they had not failed to assure Jhl, of pulling all four girls. They were the Regent of Old Rthfrdia’s very own horses: they sort of knew that. Well, they thought he was their very own human, same difference. Of course he didn’t actually steer them, but he often came to talk to them in their stable and stroke their noses and give them sugar. As well as letting them pull him in the carriage. Either this carriage or any of his other carriages, he had four. –The horses were shaky on “three” but they knew “four”: it was probably because they each had four legs; Jhl had encountered similar phenomena. They also had another human who was their very own, they were letting him steer them at this moment. The horses thought of him as “Particular-Smell-and-Hay-Smell-and-Heavy-Hand-and-Oats-in-the-Nosebag” but Jhl had determined by other means that his humanoid name was M’k.

    “I think you could set us down here, M’k,” decided A’ailh’sa graciously. “Pick us up from outside J’rd’s in about two hours’ time.”

    There had not heretofore been a J’rd’s branch on Old Rthfrdia, and it was not a coincidence that with the imminence of F-Day one had opened on the best commercial site in the city. Like all the other nice beings of Old Rthfrdia, A’ailh’sa had immediately beaten a track to its up-market door. True, at the moment there wasn’t all that much behind the door, because most of what J’rd’s normally sold was in the proscribed export category. But Wait Until F-Day!

    So the four ladies tottered eagerly towards J’rd’s. Well, two of them were eager.

    “What’s that?” croaked Jhl as A’ailh’sa put it up, with an airy expression on her face.

    “It’s a Friyrian parasol, isn’t it trillionate?” she sighed.

    “Y—Uh, what’s it made of, A’ailh’sa?” she croaked.

    A’ailh’sa looked superior. “I know what you’re thinking.”—Automatically Jhl checked her shield: no, she didn’t.—“But actually it’s only fake Friyrian vfllurfll leaves!”

    Jhl sagged: vfllurfll leaves were a powerful aphrodisiac on Friyria. To both male-tended and female-tended Friyrians and, as far as her experience went, to the ones that hadn’t bothered to choose. Though Friyrians were, of course, hermaphrodites, and their metabolism was different in some ways from that of humanoids, they were also mammalians, and many humanoids had a similar reaction to the leaves. It could be embarrassing, in a social setting. Like now: that was two Friyrians coming towards them, arm-in-arm.

    Uh—hang on, hang on… Bones of Brqa and all fourteen of its moons! It was them! Frr’gg was looking just the same, he must have decided to stick with the ultra-male thing, but H’bl seemed to have given up on the very female bit, rather a pity, because she had been very pretty: s/he was now sporting both small breasts and male genitalia, and a long waxed moustache, usually the first outward sign that a Friyrian was changing, though few of the fully male-tended ones bothered to wear them, it was a bore looking after them.

    Frr’gg was in correct diplo morning wear for male-tended Friyrians: to wit, scintillion long pants of an outstanding shininess and tightness, designed to outline the genitalia pretty precisely, which these most certainly did, a straight zpandria-cloth blouse, and a tight, short, long-sleeved jacket, normally worn open. The pants were a steel-blue, the blouse was a matching steel-blue and very gauzy, and the jacket, if Jhl’s eyes did not deceive her, was raw Friyrian dhrss silk, possibly the most expensive item on the IG Commodities Exchange, weight for weight. In its raw state dhrss silk was a dark blue-black, gleaming substance, and Frr’gg’s jacket was, so it must be. Tasteful. The belt round his slender waist was tempered xrillion links and Jhl would have taken a bet that under the hem of that short jacket, and just where the mammalian arm would hide it, lurked a matching xrillion dagger. Frr’gg was that sort of being. He wasn’t wearing any headgear, and his indigo hair, which he had always worn very, very long, was in the traditional plait of the lordship class of Friyria. His skin was the normal turquoise, but he must have had that done, because last time they’d met it had been the pale green shade of A’ailh’sa’s garment. All in all he presented a very conventional picture of a Friyrian male-tended being of leisure, but Jhl would not have taken a bet that her unsophisticated companions would see him that way.

    There was, of course, always the point that her unsophisticated companions might not be able to see past H’bl. The hair was silvery blond and s/he must have been growing it for some time, because the plait was about half as long as Frr’gg’s. And the moustache was silvery blond to match. S/he was wearing a female blouse without a jacket: zpandria-cloth, but very full as to both sleeves and bodice, and tucked tightly into the waist of the pants. As it was not only very full but also very gauzy, you got the full effect of the perky little breasts. H’bl had always retained her/s natural pale turquoise skin colour: it looked good with the bright yellow scintillion male pants and the gold gauze blouse. These days the traditional gill-collar, worn only by male-tended Friyrians of the lordship class, and designed to both protect and emphasise the gill area of the neck, was considered rather old-fashioned, but H’bl was wearing one—pure gold. The outfit was entirely acceptable in Friyrian society: in fact at home no-one would have given her/m a second glance, except possibly of admiration. Nor the way s/he was leaning on Frr’gg’s arm, either.

    “Blerrinbrig’s!” choked Frr’gg as they came up to them. “Darling, what are you got up as?”

    Jhl attempted to send him a warning signal but quite apart from the fact that he had his shield up, he was tinkling so much he probably wouldn’t have caught it anyway. H’bl was also tinkling but at the same time emanating horror at the pink stripes. And the hat.

    “Er—hullo,” she said cautiously.

    Shaking all over, Frr’gg replied: “Er, hullo to you, too, darling! That thing on your head isn’t alive, is it?”

    “No!” said Jhl crossly.

    “Then take it off and put it down the nearest recycler,” he urged.

    “I can’t. It’s what lady-beings wear here,” said Jhl grimly.

    H’bl went into tinkling hysterics.

    However, fortunately Frr’gg, though he shook helplessly for some time, seemed to have got the point, for he then said pointedly: “Well, it’s wonderful to see you again, Roz, darling. Doesn’t it seem a megazillion light-years since that time on Belraynia?”

    “Ten megazillion,” agreed H’bl, recovering.

    “Yes. When you were even prettier than you are now,” added Jhl. “Did you get bored with it, H’bl?”

    H’bl made a face. “Not exactly, darling. Father’s decided s/he wants a sired heir. S/he’s only got them through the female line, so far.”

    “Oh, bones of Brqa: yes: I’d forgotten about all that,” she admitted. “Do you mind, though, H’bl? –It does suit you, love the moustache!” she added hurriedly.

    H’bl made a face but said: “I don’t really mind, no. Bit of a change.”

    Jhl nodded, in some relief.

    Frr’gg tinkled faintly and dropped a kiss on the turquoise cheek. “We could always go back to a three, might be rather fun?” he suggested.

    “Um, yes,” said Jhl, rather hoping that her unsophisticated humanoid companions hadn’t got that—or any of it. “Um, I have to introduce people to you first, right, H’bl?”

    S/he smiled and made a deprecating motion: the sort of thing the lordship-class Friyrians did with immense grace. So Jhl knew she did have to. She took a deep breath. “H’blwlldreffna, Frr’gghurrhynvycia, may I present the Lady A’ailh’sa Mk-L’ster, K’t-Ln Mk’Strt Mk-L’ster, and M’ri Mk’Strt Mk-L’ster. –A’ailh’sa, K’t-Ln, M’ri: it is my honour to present Her/s Highness H’blwlldreffna of Friyria, and Lord Frr’gghurrhynvycia.”

    The three humanoids turned a sort of puce, not that the Mk-L’ster sisters hadn’t been pretty puce already, and curtseyed. A’ailh’sa’s was very deep, and entirely creditable. K’t-Ln and M’ri only managed wobbly bobs, but never mind: in the first place the planet was a primmo, in the second place H’bl was used to that sort of thing, and in the third place the curtsey was not a native Friyrian gesture at all.

    H’bl and Frr’gg bowed with immense grace. –Jhl could hardly repress a sigh, she’d sort of forgotten that about them, in the intervening years. Physical grace had always appealed to her. Especially when it was coupled, as it certainly was in Frr’gg, with an almost complete lack of sexual inhibitions.

    After speaking politely to all three girls—A’ailh’sa first, of course—Frr’gg somehow ended up with M’ri on his arm. She was obviously completely overcome and intimidated, and he was obviously determined to get her over it, at least to the point where she was merely overcome. And obviously Vvlvanian-cursed interested and, though more than capable of doing so, lordship-class Friyrians had immense powers of self-control on any level you cared to name, not bothering to hide it.

    H’bl meanwhile stationed her/mself between A’ailh’sa and Jhl. That left K’t-Ln out on a limb, where, judging by the expression on her face, she was only too thankful to be. And they all strolled slowly towards the J’rd’s…

    Possibly, as the beings of Bperry II claimed, J’rd’s was the manifestation of a benevolent spirit that overlooked the doings of the entire universe: for on its steps they revealed regretfully that they had an unavoidable engagement—“Diplo junk!” said H’bl with a tinkle at Jhl—and went off to it. Frr’gg not neglecting to kiss the ladies’ left thumbs formally in farewell, Friyrian-diplo-wise, plus and to mumble kisses onto M’ri’s hand, not diplo anything.

    They staggered into J’rd’s and without even having to consult one another made straight for the roof-top restaurant. Jhl was past caring: she ordered a shot of qwlot. The Old Rthfrdian waiter goggled, but lived up to his J’rd’s uniform, and brought it. The others merely had maxi-galaxy shakes. With fresh griddle buns and lashings of jam—raffleberry, since J’rd’s had it, never mind the local traditions.

    “Well,” said Jhl firmly, once the speculation, general excitement and a certain amount of recrimination had at last died down: “now you can claim to have met the only two Friyrians the Known Universe who are anything like bearable.” She got up. “Come on, what about that shopping?”

    This worked: apparently Allie was expecting to see M’ri this afternoon with a parasol—yeah, yeah. Jhl just followed in their wake. Blerrinbrig’s, diplo junk was a bore, and diplo types were the ultimate end of the universe! Because if they weren’t one thing they were the other, and some of them managed to be both! –And she didn’t mean sexes, either.

    “Here,” she said heavily, offering Rh’aiiy’hn a package liberally festooned with bows and bearing the word “J’rd’s” approximately seventeen thousand times per square IG fluh of its surface. “Don’t thank me, they’re the most inexpensive thing I could think of. A’ailh’sa insisted I buy you something, on the grounds that I couldn’t possibly return from J’rd’s with nothing for you. Even though, as I don’t have any credits here, I had to put it on your— Oh, forget it.”

    “How kind,” he said politely as a pinkish-apricot soft cloud rose from the opened box and floated just above it. “Just what I needed.”

    –It was Shan to the life. Jhl licked her lips. “Mm.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn allowed a senso-tissue to drift into his hand. He wiped his eyes and patted his nose with supreme delicacy. “Why this particular delightful shade?”

    Jhl recovered herself, and glared. “Shlaa. All the rage. I didn’t think you’d want a xrillion hunting knife, though they did have some halfway decent ones.”

    “And?” he murmured.

    She looked puzzled. “And nothing. I know you do hunt, but you don’t like killing beings, really, do you?”

    “No,” he said, a dark flush rising under the golden skin.

    Ouch! He’d been expecting her to say she’d bought a knife for Drouwh. She hesitated, then said: “It isn’t like that.”

    “No,” he said with a sigh.

    “Um, look,” she said, gulping, “would it make it better or worse for you if we went to bed?”

    “Worse. I’m not a boy,” said Rh’aiiy’hn grimly.

    Jhl made a face. “That’s what I thought.”

    He got up, sighing. “I suppose I’d better have a rest, or Mother won’t let me come down to dinner tonight.”

    “Like you really want to: mm.”

    He went slowly over to the door. “Will you wear your native costume this evening?”

    “A sh’m? Am I supposed to be a Bluellian?” said Jhl feebly.

    “I don’t know!” he said with the ghost of a laugh.

    “None of the names on the Bluellian Delegation’s list looked familiar...” Jhl chewed her lip. “Is there such a thing as a recycler in the palace?” she said at last.

    “Almost definitely not.”

    “Then I almost definitely won’t wear a Bluellian sh’m, because short of a recycler, there’ll be no way of getting hold of one on this plasmo-blasted planet.”

    “That’s a pity,” he said simply, going out.

    Jhl looked after him dubiously, not trying to read his thoughts, because she wasn’t too sure she’d like, not to say be able to take, what she saw there.

    Rh’aiiy’hn went off to his room, smiling a little. But once he’d undressed and was lying down, flat on his back, he didn’t sleep, or even close his eyes, just stared at his ornate ceiling for a long time. It was late afternoon when a tear slid out of one narrow, slanted blue eye, down the golden cheek, and soaked into his pillow.

    The full facilities of Old Rthfrdia were now available to the delegations from the worlds of the Federation, the x’nb-web having been lowered in order to allow their humble selves passage onto the planet. During this period the entire IG-periphery of the place’s planetary space had bristled, yes, bristled, with Space Patrol Captains in their Space Patrol vessels, approximately one appendage-length apart. BrTl had not hitherto suspected there were that many Space Patrol Captains in the entire Known Universe. Any foolish being who might have thought of trying anything approaching a manoeuvre while the x’nb-web was lowered would very speedily have found out its mistake. Take it for all in all, it had given one to think, rather. Because, if there were that many Space Patrol Captains around even an insignificant little planet like You-Know-What at F-time, then—er—well, they wouldn’t be elsewhere, would they? Therefore one’s activities elsewhere could be rather carefully timed. He was pretty sure this had occurred to Trff, too. And it had certainly occurred to G’gg, the asteroid-brain had just been about to voice it as BrTl had shot out a pseudopod and choked the words in his mammalian throat as they formed.

    Unfortunately no facilities had as yet been discovered on Old Rthfrdia. In fact their humble selves had been invited to use their ships as accommodation for the duration of the delegations’ visit, instead of being provided with a luxurious nirvana garden of a Guest Room in the most up-market sector of the downtown Astoria in the capital city, because there wasn’t one. –An Astoria; there was something that claimed to be a capital city.

    Trff, however, had been favoured with superior accommodation in the Royal Palace itself, as had all the Lone Delegates who had arrived on the passenger vessels chartered to ferry in those members of the delegations who had not found it worthwhile, economically or otherwise, to bring their own ships to Old Rthfrdia. Some would have said this was progress. Unfortunately, though rumour had it Jhl was also immured in this apology for Basic Quarters, Class IV, it hadn’t been able to get near her. Physically or any other way, because there were all these IG Militia beings and Space Patrol Captains around, shades lowered, and probes at the ready.

    “Possibly that’s a street sign,” suggested paxeR politely. Sub-Lieutenant dqxH ut paxeR was a pink-crested Nblyterian in her/s male stage, on Belraynia as equerry, and seconded to the Belraynian Delegation to Old Rthfrdia apparently on the grounds that his fellow-exiles on Belraynia couldn’t wait to get shot of him. Inane, was probably the best word to describe paxeR. Though BrTl had thought of a few more. They’d figured out he’d attached himself to R’shn, L’Thea and G’gg partly because he’d developed a crush on R’shn and partly because his fellow-delegates had indicated they couldn’t wait to get shot of him, but could only conclude it must have been R’shn’s kind mammalian heart that had let him do so. He was several IG years older than G’gg, but G’gg was treating him with the kindly, superior scorn he clearly more than merited.

    “Possibly it is,” admitted BrTl. The sign read “Squiggle.” BrTl approached his face to it, having to bend his neck considerably to do so: Old Rthfrdia was a short world. “Can you direct us to the Central Botanic Park where the Kernarvian ballooning is being held?” he asked politely.

    The sign didn’t respond. BrTl took a quick look round for the odd Captain of You-Know-What, and blinked at it. It still read “Squiggle.” Figured.

    The enterprising G’gg had gone round to the sign’s far side. It was a stationary sign and two-, well, virtually two-dimensional. Two-sided. What you might expect on a primmo, in fact.

    “I think this is supposed to be Intergalactic,” he reported.

    “And?” said R’shn without hope, two IG microseconds before BrTl could.

    “Circule Pundervarp,” read G’gg.

    PaxeR immediately came round to his side of the sign. “I think it means Circle Boulevard!” he announced proudly.

    “Or Circular Boulevard, or Cycle Boulevard, or Circular Underpass, or No Circulation: Underpass, or Virtual Uncertainty: one or two of those, yeah,” responded G’gg immediately.

    R’shn, L’Thea and BrTl all collapsed in sniggers. Well, it had been a long, weary way from the unknown point at which the “Pudrio Groump Lramsdorl” had deposited them, somewhere downtown, to the unknown point at which they now were. A long, weary way on foot. –It had taken a certain crested being the entire journey from the spaceport to figure out that “Pudrio Groump Lramsdorl” meant “Public Ground Transport” even though that was very obviously what they were in. It was, as BrTl had noted, strangely reminiscent of the spaceport to Blerrinbrig’s and gone, beyond the last black hole, to which Dad’s grqwary farm was not all that near. And it was a pity the “Pudrio Groump Lramsdorl” was not more nearly reminiscent of that bubble-train. That much-maligned bubble-train: yes.

    “We could ask a local being,” suggested paxeR helpfully.

    “No, we couldn’t, asteroid-brain: they’re all scared of BrTl,” pointed out G’gg with tolerant scorn.

    This was true.

    “Um—er—um—find the J’rd’s!” the crested one produced brilliantly. “They’ll know!”

    This was undoubtedly true, also. However, BrTl closed a kindly pseudopod round his thin neck.—G’gg winced sympathetically, swallowing.—“Look around you, paxeR,” he invited genially. “See anything that resembles an emporium of any kind, let alone a J’rd’s?”

    “No,” he gulped.

    “Fancy.”

    “Let him go, BrTl,” said R’shn kindly.—The crested one looked at her gratefully.—“I suppose he can’t help himself.”

    Looking at her less gratefully, paxeR retreated from BrTl’s immediate vicinity, feeling his neck cautiously.

    “That way,” decided R’shn, waving at what was possibly an avenue.

    “Why not?” sighed L’Thea.

    “Why?” objected G’gg.

    “We haven’t tried in that direction!” his cognate explained loudly.

    BrTl took a deep breath. “Smaller—not to be size-ist, height-ist or anything-ist—smaller beings could get up, if they like. –Since I’m not wearing the plasmo-blasted Y-K-W, for a change,” he noted.

    “Thank you, BrTl!” said R’shn with tremendous gratitude. Though as he was already carrying S’zzie, tucked comfortably against his neck in a pseudopod, there was less reason for this gratitude than might have been supposed. Incidentally, he was beginning to get a horrible, sneaking suspicion that those handy humanoid excreta-moppers, or whatever the things were that R’shn was so thrilled about being able to swathe S’zzie’s nether quarters in, were no longer working efficiently.

    They all got up and BrTl began to lope slowly down the avenue (or possibly boulevard). There was very little traffic down it, by almost any standard applicable in the Known Universe. Nevertheless the avenue-manners of the Old Rthfrdians were remarkable: remarkable. Even quite large ground-cars pulled over to the side, and bubbles positively shot out of his way.

    “Is that a park?” he said without hope as they reached the end of the pundervarp. –G’gg had now decided firmly it was.

     “It is green, BrTl,” said L’Thea kindly. “I’d call it nwhortlp.”

    “Yes,” he sighed, “peacefully nwhortlp. What’s that sort of structure on it, though?”

    They looked dubiously at the structure.

    “I suppose it looks a little bit like my Lord—um—You-Know-Who’s,” gulped L’Thea, “ancestral—um—You-Know-What,” she ended weakly.

    “Mok shit,” noted BrTl politely.

    “It has got, um, spires?” conceded G’gg. “Um—spires.”

    “Perhaps they have structures like that in parks on Old Rthfrdia,” offered paxeR.

    No-one replied.

    After some time R’shn admitted: “It is quite big.”

    “For a humanoid structure, yes,” agreed BrTl kindly. “Is that roof lurghple?”

    “Almost on the lurghple side of yellow, yes,” agreed L’Thea kindly.

    “No, I didn’t think it was, either,” he admitted, sighing. “Your Slaetho-Xathpyrian is coming on splendidly.”

    “Thank you,” she said modestly.

    “There’s a notice!” cried paxeR helpfully.

    After a certain period of time had elapsed and the Nblyterian’s naturally rather lurghple skin had taken on an orange tinge, BrTl trod very, very delicately over to the notice. Two-sided, stationary, uh-huh. Quite near to the notice stood two local beings in strange local dress, not to be anything-ist, bearing what possibly might have been strange local weapons if you were being not only not anything-ist but also completely broad-, not to say open-minded, about the whole subject. They blenched, but otherwise stood their ground.

    “It says,” he noted detachedly: “squiggle, squiggle, smaller squiggles. –Are those gaps, between the smaller squiggles? –No matter.”

    G’gg peered down at it. “Underneath the squiggles,” he announced solemnly, “it says: MO HMLRY. ATT QAZZEZ LO RE SWOMM.”

    R’shn and L’Thea  both collapsed in ecstatic giggles.

    “And underneath that again,” proceeded the percipient boy with relish, “it says MELCOWE LO LHE BONAT QATACE OF—help, that’s a word—OF OTC BLWFBOIA.”

    “Uppercase P’s come out as Q, fascinating,” murmured L’Thea.

    “I think that’s an F in the right place!” spotted paxeR excitedly.

    “Yes,” they all said kindly.

    “Is it simple transposition?” asked R’shn. “Um... Ooh, no!”

    “Makes it better,” conceded BrTl. “Excuse me,” he said very politely and also very quietly to one of the strangely-dressed locals who, they had now all perceived, must be some sort of Palace Guard, or, as G’gg was now muttering tentatively to himself: “QATACE G—um, magma pits—um, well, G, U, A, B—”

    The local quailed, but stood his ground.

    “Could you direct us to the Central Botanic Park where the Kernarvian ballooning is being held?” asked BrTl, very quietly and politely.

    “G, U, A, B, C!” concluded G’gg triumphantly.

    Still quailing, the local rolled a terrified mammalian eye at BrTl and didn’t utter. This went on for quite some time and in fact the other guard—or possibly GUABC or possibly, as R’shn, giggling, suggested, DUABC or as the brilliant paxeR suggested, OUABC—had joined in, when L’Thea pointed out sensibly: “BrTl, in some cultures guards-beings aren’t allowed to speak while they’re on duty.”

    “Really? Cultures where the brains aren’t capable of processing two informational streams at once: I see.”

    Kindly L’Thea didn’t try to explain, she just said: “Let’s just go over there a bit, okay? And then R’shn and S’zzie can go up to them, by themselves, and see if they’ll speak to them.”

    BrTl moved off a bit, not bothering to ask why R’shn and S’zzie.

    They watched, though not with much hope, as R’shn went up to the guards, hugging the now definitely damp S’zzie.

    After some time she returned, beaming. “They’re not supposed to talk!” she hissed. “But the fat one says it is the Royal Palace, and the park’s over there, and round the corner!”

    “I get it,” said G’gg on a sour note. “We go all the way down that other plasmo-blasted pundervarp and turn the corner and go down another one, and then we finally get to the park. Whereas if we went across this royal nwhortlp lawn or whatever-it-is here,” he noted pointedly: “we’d get straight to the balloons by the most direct route!”

    Three Kernarvian balloons could now be seen in a direct line with G’gg’s pointing finger, rising above the trees ringing the royal nwhortlp lawn, so no-one contradicted him.

    “We can sort of see from here,” said L’Thea kindly.

    “It’s IG glps away!” he cried indignantly, if inaccurately.

    “Get up again, R’shn,” groaned BrTl. “I’ll lope—”

    “Wait!” cried L’Thea. “If this is the Royal Palace, then Trff’s staying here! Couldn’t we get in as its visitors and—um, then you-know-what?”

    “Not without QAZZEZ, we couldn’t,” noted BrTl genially. “Who’s got a QAZZ to the BONAT QATACE grounds? –Or possibly,” he noted, less genially, “to the BONAT QATACE Groumpz.”

    “Groumpz in lower case, I hope!” squeaked R’shn.

    There was good in that small humanoid being. “Yes, of course. –Come on, get on, it’ll only take two IG microseconds if I gall—Um, lope, lope: I’ll lope,” he said as horrified gasps came from certain beings.

    R’shn and S’zzie got back on and BrTl loped.

    There was quite a crowd at the Kernarvian ballooning display. Possibly, to judge by the very small mammalian humanoids in sobbing near-hysterics, the larger and female mammalian humanoids in definite hysterics and strange primmo headgear, and the prostrate bodies on the ground, not all of those present had realised what Kernarvian balloons were. Not judging by that smallish one, about G’gg’s size, that had just thrown up its maxi-shake.

    “They’re vegetarians,” said BrTl heavily.

    “We know,” said paxeR in surprise.

    “Not you, asteroid-brain,” he groaned. “These beings, here.” He shot out a kindly pseudopod and righted a female one in very odd headgear indeed, that looked a bit like Mum. “It’s all right, Mum-being,” he said kindly to her: “they spit you out after the ride. The Kernarvians give their—uh, younger cognates,” he fumbled, “um, pups,” he said in some relief, as S’zzie gave a crow from high on his back, “rides in them all the time. Um, I don’t think she understands,” he said, as the Mum-being let out a shriek like a Quarvaynian oorlp at the moment your blaster sliced through its breathing-tube.

    R’shn slid hurriedly down his foreleg. “It’s all right, he’s a very friendly being,” she said to the shrieking Old Rthfrdian. “And the Kernarvian balloons are VEGETARIANS!”

    “And those see-through stomachs,” explained paxeR kindly, “are only their pre-digestive tracts, really.”

    “Let’s move on,” said L’Thea hurriedly.

    BrTl gave R’shn a pseudopod up again, and they moved on...

    “Galaxious!” pronounced G’gg, beaming all over his face, as a Kernarvian balloon regurgitated him after a ride.

    “Pretty galaxious!” agreed R’shn as her balloon regurgitated her and S’zzie.

    BrTl looked at them glumly: he was too big.

    “Galaxious!” gasped paxeR, emerging slightly ruffled from his balloon.

    “Yes,” agreed BrTl. “Shall we move on?”

    “But I’ve got plenty of credits, BrJk!” objected the crested one. “–Is it -Tl or -Jk?” he added in considerable and some would have said justified confusion.

    “–Jk,” said BrTl firmly, “and come on, we’ve seen enough screaming and—what was that other thing, again? When they fall over.”

    “Fainting?” said L’Thea weakly.

    “Yes: enough screaming and fainting for one afternoon. Or don’t you want a lift back to the spaceport, paxeR?”

    The valiant crested one scrambled up immediately.

    ... “There is the point,” BrTl noted sourly after quite some IG glps had passed beneath his feet, “that the spheroid blue one didn’t grace the afternoon with its presence.”

    “BrT—BrJk,” began R’shn uneasily, “we could hardly have expected to bump into Aunty—um, You-Know-Who. I mean, it’d be really unlikely: there are several million humanoids on— Sorry.”

    “Granted,” he said between his teeth.

    After that no-one spoke again, all the way back to the spaceport.

    It was a very grand dinner indeed. Very few below the rank of banner-bearer had been invited. Certainly not to the higher tables. Down in the distance at the far end of the Great Hall of Old Rthfrdia certain lesser beings might have been observed, perchance, by a being with excellent visual organs. Of course the usual delightfully sophisticated diplo chatter was to be heard. Both at the higher and, no doubt, the lower tables.

    “...in its stomach! Disgusting! Really, the sort of thing these Feddo play-persons find amus—” An ancient Old Rthfrdian she-mok.

    “...Disgusting! Pups spewing all over the lawn! It’s a wonder the poor Kernarvians didn’t issue Notice To Sever D.R.’s on the spot! Really, someone should tell these pre-Fed beings, before they even dream of letting them enter the Fed—” An ancient diplo bond-partner.

    Jhl squinted down at the far end of the hall without appearing to do so.

    “You’re squinting,” murmured her escort.

    The top table was then gratified by the sight of the Regent of Old Rthfrdia’s First Concubine giving him a filthy look. It went well with the creamy, pearly sheen of the slim-fitting Bluellian sh’m. –Jhl had had an inspiration and gone down to the palace’s vehicle park. Once she’d fought her way through the forest of Moodra Dyhillias the pale green lifter had, emanating mild surprise that she had even needed to ask, produced a Bluellian sh’m for her on the spot. It wasn’t coveralls, true, but at least the slit from ankle to thigh allowed you to walk. Rh’aiiy’hn had been overcome by the sight of her in it, complete with the head-dress of creamy Bluellian lumoshell in the shape of a circlet of Bluellian snu flowers (“tiara” according to M’ri). Jhl had begun to doubt the wisdom of wearing the thing at round about that point. Well, actually she’d begun to doubt the wisdom of it the minute she’d put it on in front of the large semi-circle of mirrors in her bedroom and seen how it got in under the bum in the very way Mum, M’mri’in and S’zaan, to name but twenty-seven, all said a nice Bluellian girl’s sh’m didn’t oughta.

    And now here she was, stuck at the top table in it, surrounded by plasmo-blasted diplos all trying to probe her shield! With the notable exception of Frr’gg who, being in H’bl’s party, was also at the top table, though near the far end of it: he not only appeared to be telling a filthy story in which she figured largely, he was.

    “...Disgusting! Pups spewing all over the lawn! It’s a wonder the poor Kernarvians didn’t issue Notice To Sever D.R.’s on the spot!” BrTl was seated next to an ancient diplo bond-partner or some such that was going on in precisely the way you would have expected.

    “Yes,” he sighed. “Personally I didn’t go up.”

    “No, of course. –Tell me, Lieutenant BrJk, do you know the cognates TkBl and TkDv?”

    No Br-cognate had so much as addressed a single mind-message to any Tk-cognate in the last seven IG millennia, but BrTl didn’t bother to point this out, he just let it rattle on. Meanwhile peering hopefully at the top table. He sort of thought that was her. In that sort of tight cream thing. Shiny. With things on her head. Well, the being had a sort of Jhllish shield around it. More impenetrable than he remembered, though. And had her cheeks ever been that strange colour? He sort of remembered them as definitely greener than that. A lot less pink, in any case.

    Incautiously he raised his small basin of local stimulant and drank it right off. Ugh, argh, help, poison! ...Vvlvanian curses, didn’t even have a kick, either. “What was that?” he croaked.

    The being couldn’t have been entirely bad, because it replied kindly: “Local wine, so-called. I advise against it.”

    “Too late,” he noted, shuddering slightly.

    “Are you all right, Lieutenant? My FW pack could—”

    “My metabolism seems to be coping, thanks. But many thanks for your most gracious offer,” he added hurriedly.

    Graciously the being waggled its frontal lobes—it was a Thwurbullerian, and BrTl at this point realised from the purplish lines in the lobes that it was probably from Jishowulla. “Not at all.” It passed him a dish of small, suspicious-looking things. “Jing-jing nuts,” it said kindly. “Vegetable, oleaginous.”

    The name was sort of vaguely familiar… BrTl tried one anyway, he could only die once. Why wasn’t she looking over here, he’d done everything short of stand up and shout. –Could he? In the guise of a—um—a Slaetho-Xathpyrian um, toast? No: unfortunately there were other xathpyroids here, and, more unfortunately still, he was the banner-bearer. Not literally: one had an equerry who stood behind one, or behind one’s chair if one was the sort of being that used them, and held it for one, at formal dinners. Meanwhile not being allowed to eat or drink. He had been very glad to see that paxeR was the Belraynian delegate’s one, tonight.

    Because she-it’s looking for you-it at the lower tables, said an engineering voice in his head.

    BrTl took a very deep breath. “Mm?” he said, twitching. “Oh: flavoured with jolly-lollies! Yes, thanks, I—Wait, not those local jolly-berries the pups were eating at the park this afternoon?”

    The Thwurbullerian winced. “No, I’m glad to say.”

    “Good!” BrTl took a handful of jelly-like substance which looked like agar-agar, flavoured with jolly-lollies. It was. Good.

     “There’s no need to squint. He’s over there, eating jelly with his hands,” murmured Rh’aiiy’hn. “I think that must be him. He’s certainly big and furry and emanating anxiety.”

    “Oh!” said Jhl, sagging. “So it— What in Federation’s name is he doing with a banner?” she gasped.

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s shoulders shook silently. “No idea.”

    She-it’s seen you-it!

    BrTl felt so good he merely replied: I can see that, asteroid-brain. Have some of this jolly-lolly jelly stuff, it’s good.

    Trff replied warily: This it-being was at an alfresco lunch today where the locals ate some frozen stuff flavoured with—

    NO! Real jolly-lollies!

    The Ju’ukrterian delegate from Zll graciously allowed a servo-being to run up and pour, or possibly glop, a bowlful of jolly-lolly agar-agar for it. First, naturally, having had to implant the idea that it do so: this primmo FW they were on was certainly very near to the ultimate end of the universe. It extended a tube— Then it looked round dubiously. Oh. So that was diplo manners, was it? Uncertainly it extended a tentacle instead. …Oops! This diplo stuff was harder than an it-being might think. Quite a challenge, really! Oops again! ...Ah! Gotcha!

    Jhl shut her eyes in despair.

    “Roz, open your eyes: at least three-quarters of the delegates here are eating jolly-lolly jelly,” he murmured.

    “With their hands?” she croaked, not opening her eyes.

    “With their appendages, yes,” allowed Rh’aiiy’hn.

    Jhl opened her eyes cautiously. Bones of Brqa, so they were! Well, forty-seven percent, anyway. Her two weren’t as conspicuous as she’d thought they must be!

    Rh’aiiy’hn put his own appendage gently over hers and squeezed it. “It’s all right,” he murmured.

    “I know!” she said huffily, trying to pull her hand away.

    Rh’aiiy’hn held on. “No: I mean, they are both quite safe.”

    “Yes! And shut up!” she hissed, turning puce.

    He smiled a little, rather sadly, and withdrew his hand.

    Jhl didn’t notice, she was staring hard at BrTl and willing that basin he’d just raised maw-wards not to be nnru juice...

    “At least you saw Aunty Jhl last night,” murmured R’shn.

    “We were so far down the hall we couldn’t see anything,” said L’Thea sadly.

    “There wasn’t much to see,” said BrTl sourly.

    “BrTl!” cried R’shn crossly.

    “Uh—she had a thing on her head,” he volunteered.

    “Who was she WITH?” she shouted.

    BrTl moved his shoulders uneasily—even though he was not only not in the Saddle or his Number Ones, he wasn’t even in his Number Twos, he was in his Durocloth coverall. “One of the cognates.” There was a short pause. “Trff confirms this!” he added quickly.

    “Which one?” demanded L’Thea.

    “Uh...”

    “You can’t have FORGOTTEN!” she shouted. “And don’t pretend you couldn’t TELL!”

    “At the time I was almost sure I could tell. –So was Trff!” he added quickly.

    There was a short and exasperated silence. Then R’shn said cunningly: “BrTl, did the man she was with have red hair?”

    BrTl scratched one shoulder with a hind foot. “Uh—sorry,” he muttered, hastily righting G’gg.

    “That’s all right!” the valiant boy gasped.

    “Well?” said R’shn.

    “I’ve forgotten what ‘red’ means, precisely, in this mammalian humanoid context,” he said plaintively.

    Smiling limply, L’Thea removed her translator. “I thinks word to be bwplice,” she said in his Slaetho-Xathpyrian dialect.

    “Put that translator back on, for Federation’s sake,” he groaned. “Uh—bwplice?” He looked desperately round his cabin. His glance fell on S’zzie. Her head-fur was today adorned on the very tip with a bwplice bow. The effect was rather crest-like, so perhaps R’shn had done it out of a wish to please paxeR. Inconceivable though the idea was. “That bow on S’zzie’s crest is bwplice. I’d class that as a shade of pink.”

    “Bright scarlet,” said-R’shn limply.

    “Yes,” agreed L’Thea limply.

    They looked limply at him.

    “The male cognate next to Jhl did not have bwplice hair,” he said.

    “Contact Trff!” ordered L’Thea.

    BrTl might have ignored her, but for the fact that her cheeks had turned very red, indeed almost bwplice, and she was speaking through her mammalian teeth.

    Trff agreed that the male cognate next to Jhl at last night’s dinner did not have bwplice hair. When asked, it explained that both male cognates had what humanoids referred to as “red” hair. At this the two female humanoids gave screeches of rage, so BrTl broke the connection. Even though it was as near certain as you could get in the Known Universe that the it-being would not have forgotten which male cognate had been seated next to Jhl last night, however much fermented laa the individual Trff might have absorbed.

    Far, far up the line the Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present—”

    “Stop fidgeting,” ordered R’shn through her teeth. G’gg gave her an agonised look. “I told you this would happen,” she said through her teeth.

    G’gg gave her an agonised look and stood with his legs crossed...

    Far, far up the line the Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present—”

    “What is that being?” enquired BrTl courteously.

    “A humanoid; we think possibly it’s a he,” replied his neighbour courteously.

    On his other side, BrLc said dubiously: “Isn’t it rather small, though? Aren’t the male ones supposed to be larger?”

    BrTl’s neighbour replied in confusion: “Is that in humanoid societies?”

    “It certainly isn’t in xathpyroid ones,” owned BrTl.

    “No,” agreed BrLc.

    BrTl’s neighbour waved an appendage cautiously up the receiving line. “We could be wrong,” it decided.

    “Yes,” agreed its joined conjoint. “We could.”

    BrTl swallowed a sigh. He knew that immature humanoids could be small, even if they were male. And that the, er, Great Lord, or whatever he was, of this FW dump was young and male. Therefore it was possible he was small. Therefore it was possible the small sparf-covered figure near the top of the receiving line was he…

    Far, far up the line the Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present—”

    Hullo, Jhl! it sent jauntily.

    Jhl swallowed. It looked so small, standing there with its blitheringly silly banner!

    Allie inclined his head graciously as Trff dipped the banner. A court minion hurriedly relieved the Lone Delegate of the banner before it could put the Ruler’s eye out. Allie held out his hand. Politely Trff put a tentacle into it.

    Jhl was aware of Rh’aiiy’hn’s hand under her elbow. She was not aware that she was sending frantically to Allie: DON’T HURT IT!

    “Her Royal Highness the Ruler’s Mother,” droned the Master of Ceremonies.

    Mh’aii’rhi Roz, smirking automatically, held out a gracious, drooping hand. Trff put its tentacle in it. Mh’aii’rhi Roz obligingly shook it. By this time approximately forty thousand delegates who either had never heard of the Old Rthfrdian practice of hand kissing or who were manifestly physically unsuited to it, or both, had gone down the receiving line: she was getting used to it.

    “His Royal Highness Rh’aiiy’hn, Regent of Old Rthfrdia.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn bowed very low. “The it-being be welcome to this humble land of beings not of it-beingness,” he said in execrable, if archaic, Ju’ukrterian.

    It replied with a long speech in archaic Ju’ukrterian.

    Rh’aiiy’hn bowed very low again. Jhl didn’t have to read him to know he hadn’t understood a blind word. “It said thank you,” she said in a very bored voice.

    “Not at all, Lone Delegate,” said Rh’aiiy’hn formally, avoiding her eye.

    Trff waved an antenna blankly at Jhl.

    Turn your translator on, asteroid-brain!

    It turned its translator on.

    “May I present the Lady Roz?” said Rh’aiiy’hn formally, bowing again.

    Jhl held out an appendage. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she simpered.

    Trff put its tentacle in her palm. To her fury, she found her eyes had suddenly filled with tears. Rh’aiiy’hn’s hand met her elbow again: he gave it a warning squeeze.

    “We shall hope to be able to speak to you again after the reception, Lone Delegate,” he said politely.

    “Yes,” croaked Jhl.

    Replying: “That would be delightful,” it bobbed off. Possibly no-one but Jhl was picking up its: Help! Where in the Asteroids of Hhum’s its plasmo-blasted banner?

    Far, far up the line the Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present—”

    “Stop fidgeting!” hissed the false Captain Jhl Smt Wong. G’gg gave her an agonised look. “Why did you let him drink all those maxi-shakes?” she hissed.

    “Don’t blame me!” hissed his cousin crossly.

    They stared grimly before them. G’gg stood with his legs crossed, looking agonised…

    The Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present—”

    Jhl endeavoured to send him a warning signal. And how in the Known Universe had he got hold of that banner?

    BrTl bowed very low over Allie’s hand. “The honour is all mine, Your Royal Highness.”

    “Her Royal Highness the Ruler’s Mother.”

    Mh’aii’rhi Roz, smirking automatically, held out a gracious, drooping hand. BrTl caught it in a pseudopod, bowed very low, and approached his crunchers to it. Jhl shut her eyes.

    “His Royal Highness Rh’aiiy’hn, Regent of Old Rthfrdia.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn bowed. “I’m delighted to welcome you to Old Rthfrdia, Delegate BrJk.”

    “Delighted to be here, sir.” –Is his hair red in mammalian humanoid terms?

    Jhl took a deep breath. Choke on your Grand Occasion Saddle, BrJk!

    Rh’aiiy’hn presented the Lady Roz. “Thrilled, Lieutenant BrJk!” she trilled.

    “Perhaps we could have a chat later,” he said.

    “That would be delightful,” agreed Rh’aiiy’hn, as his companion seemed incapable of speech.

    About mammalian humanoid head-hair, I presume? she sent snidely.

    BrTl replied very loudly and angrily: Well, which one IS he?

    Jhl produced a very silly giggle. There was even the hope that the xathpyroid asteroid-brain before her might register it as a very silly giggle. “I suppose these formal delegations must be rather a strain, Lieutenant-Pilot! Dare I say it? All we mammalian humanoids must look so much alike, to you!”

    BrTl bared his crunchers at her. “That’s quite right, Lady Roz. How percipient of you. Allow me to present my distant cognate, Lieutenant BrLc.”

    Jhl could feel Rh’aiiy’hn shaking slightly. Grimly she ignored him.

    “Roz, they’re indistinguishable!” he hissed as the Slaetho-Xathpyrian Delegation from New Qrbgg moved off at long last and the Master of Ceremonies took the usual deep breath preparatory to introducing the next lot.

    Jhl replied quietly but with great precision: “Only to particularly dim mammalian humanoids with no mind-powers whatsoever.”

    In spite of those forty-odd Old Rthfrdian years of diplomatic training, Rh’aiiy’hn shook all over for some time.

    The Master of Ceremonies was droning: “Your Royal Highness, may I present the delegation from Belraynia—”

    Rh’aiiy’hn’s hand tightened on Jhl’s elbow.

    “—Captain Jhl Smt Wong.”

    Wavey-Spacey sparf flashed and glittered on the Number Ones. “On a secondment, are you?” said Jhl kindly to her alter-ego. Trying not to look at the two figures beyond her alter-ego’s left shoulder.

    “Temporary secondment, Ladyship,” said L’Thea tranquilly.

    “Yes. How nice.”—Do NOT attempt to communicate!—R’shn and G’gg gulped and looked at her plaintively.—“And these mammalian humanoids are keeping you company, are they? Love-ly!” she trilled.

    Roz, said Rh’aiiy’hn’s voice very clearly in her mind: that boy is bursting to relieve himself.

    Jhl closed her eyes for a split IG microsecond. Then she opened them and cooed, clutching at his sparf-laden sleeve: “Darling Rh’aiiy’hn, all this diplomatic receiving is so very, very tiring for poor little me! I wonder, could this lovely humanoid boy take me aside for just a lee-tle rest?”

    Bowing, slanted blue eyes sparkling, Rh’aiiy’hn handed her over to G’gg.

    Just don’t, said Jhl grimly in her dim-witted nephew’s dim head as they approached the nearest Palace hygiene cabinets.

    G’gg looked at her humbly.

    “Get in!” she said loudly, giving him a push.

    “Aunty—Lady, this says ‘LADIES’!” he gasped.

    That was not a bad guess. Actually it said “TAPIEZ”.

    “Get IN!” she snarled. “I’ll stand guard in case any tapiez try to rape you!”

    He stumbled in.

    … “Better?” she said evilly.

    He nodded humbly.

    “Just don’t speak or think,” said Jhl with a sigh. “Come and sit down over here.”

    They sat down on a little sitting-out couch placed conveniently in a little alcove not five Old Rthfrdian arm-spans from the spot where a Palace Guard and an IG Militiaman were on joint duty.

    “You may address me,” said Jhl evilly: “as ‘Lady Roz’.”

    “Yes, Lady R’z!” he gasped.

    One out of two.

    “When required to speak, that is.”

    He nodded numbly.

    Relax, asteroid-brain, and don’t dare to try to send, said Jhl in his asteroid-brain.

    He goggled frantically at her.

    Jhl felt in a recess of the pale pink wound garment—not her choice—she was sealed in this evening. “Emergency rations: eat it.”

    He filled the gob with J’rd’s second-best quality Njneeainwearian chewing-taffy, thus effectively gagging himself. J’rd’s had only had the iirouelli’i-juice-flavoured variety left when the Lady Roz and the Lady A’ailh’sa had condescended to drop by. Even though J’rd’s used only the minutest quantity of the juice per IG barrel of the taffy he would undoubtedly still be able to taste it this time tomorrow. Hah, hah, hah.

    Rapidly she scanned what his asteroid-brain knew. Asteroids of Hhum! “Well, isn’t this fun?” she said grimly.

    He goggled at her and made a desperate noise through the taffy.

    “You want to go again?” said Jhl heavily.

    He shook his head.

    “Are you all right?”

    He nodded his head, but goggled frantically.

    “I suppose I’m all right, too,” she said heavily. “Well, my feet are killing me, in these awful local shoes.”

    He nodded uncertainly.

    “We’d better go back. It isn’t ‘the thing’,” said Jhl with a face, “to disappear with a being of the opposite gender and the same species at one of these plasmo-blasted palace receptions.”

    He goggled frantically, this time at the guards.

    She got up, sighing. “Come on. And don’t attempt to speak, Njneeainwearian chewing-taffy has been known to choke those who believe it’s manners to communicate when the mouth is full.”

    He nodded frantically, and they went back to the huge reception.

    BrTl lay flat with his neck stretched right out, his eyes half-closed amidst the lovely green grass of Old Rthfrdia. Its shade verged on nwhortlp. Very, very peaceful. So long as one did not look in the direction of up, where the sky was the unpleasant and, not to be anything-ist, unnatural sort of blue that he vaguely remembered the humanoid section of Mullgon’ya to have featured. “A true nirvana garden, Great Lord,” he groaned.

    “Please don’t call me that,” replied Rh’aiiy’hn mildly. “And it’s countryside, merely, Lieutenant.”

    There was a short pause. Every being there assembled, including the Regent of Old Rthfrdia, was looking hopefully at Jhl.

    “All right,” she said through her pearly teeth. “I think we’d better have a progress report. You first, First Lieutenant.” she added pointedly.

     BrTl sat up hurriedly. “Yes, sir. Uh...”

    “You-it could either say it or send it, no being can—”

    “Thank you, Chief Engineer,” said Jhl grimly.

    Trff subsided, hunching itself into its fluff.

    “Uh—yes,” said BrTl uncomfortably into the silence. “The situation on—er—Whtyll,” he said, clearing his throat. “Vvlvanian curses! Vvlvanian-cursed sorry, Chief Engineer,” he muttered, righting it. “The situation on Whtyll is, um, improving. I think. The old Gervayn— Uh, his—his— I’m sorry: I’ve forgotten what she is,” he said glumly.

    “Shan’s mother,” said Jhl heavily.

    “Oh, yes. His mother reported he was beginning to try to pull himself upright.” He looked dubiously at the Regent’s humanoid, bipedal frame. “Onto his two legs, I think she meant.”

    “That’s very good progress,” said R’shn quickly. “S’zzie’s still only crawling.”

    “He’s starting to stand up,” said Jhl limply, passing a hand over her face. “Does anybody know if this progress is expected to be exponential, or can we assume that if it takes about four IG months to progress from zero to, say, just under one IG year, he’ll have reached adulthood in about another seven and a half IG years?”

    “The we-it calculates there’s a fifty percent chance that it could be exponential, Captain,” reported Trff glumly.

    “Thank you,” said Jhl grimly.

    “Well, um, that finishes my report, sir,” said BrTl meekly.

    “No, it doesn’t,” replied his Captain tightly. “You can give me your opinion on the Full College’s involvement.”

    BrTl scratched his shoulder with a hind foot. Fortunately the Old Rthfrdian countryside was really roomy. “I’m not absolutely sure if they know about this pwld muck, though I’m inclined to the opinion that they must have scented it out a while back. When Y-K-W was over here on one of his little trips,” he added, one eye on the Regent. “They’re heavily into the Commodities Market, you see. The thing is, does that have any connection with the way they may or may not be managing Fleet Commander Vt R’aam’s recovery? Um—I haven’t got any further than ‘maybe.’ Sorry, Captain.”

    “That’s pretty much what I thought,” agreed Jhl heavily.

    Rh’aiiy’hn said diffidently: “I can’t see how impeding his progress would be to their advantage, Captain.”

    BrTl goggled at him, Trff pointed an incredulous antenna at him, and L’Thea and R’shn both gasped: “But—!” G’gg continued to look wistfully at the picnic baskets but this was not much consolation to Rh’aiiy’hn.

    “Go on, then,” Jhl said drily to her First Officer.

    “It's like this, sir: if they can get him to the point where he’s just with-it enough to sign over all his Old Rthfrdian interests to them—”

    “But surely the Full College wouldn’t be that unprincipled?”—He perceived that even G’gg had stopped looking at the picnic baskets and was goggling at him.—“Very well,” he said with a sigh, “let us admit they would. I suppose that my father’s pwld interests here would be a considerable asset, but… It doesn’t seem enough,” he murmured.

    BrTl’s Captain was giving him a hard look so he said quickly: “Hugely valuable, sir, but there’s another factor. You see, the—uh—elderly female cognate has given a promise that any Vt R’aam interest in Old Rthfrdian agricultural land will be made over to the Full College as payment for curing the Fleet Commander. That’ll help them manipulate the agricultural commodities market.”

    “Oh. But— Unless my father’s made a secret agreement to buy huge tracts—”

    “No,” said Jhl, taking a deep breath. “Who’s your legal heir, Rh’aiiy’hn?”

    The colour drained out of the Regent’s face. His golden skin looked almost lurghple, indeed. S’zzie had crawled over to him and, being too young to be a respecter of persons, was patting at his expensively tailored nyr-suede knee. Automatically Rh’aiiy’hn picked her up and cuddled her.

    “In the case of the lordship class of Old Rthfrdia,” he said bleakly, “where there are no legal heirs of the body, all property reverts to the father. –The male parent,” he croaked.

    After a moment Jhl said: “Not the male parent within bond-partnership?”

    Rh’aiiy’hn shook his head, biting his lip. “No. The long-standing practice of concubinage— Never mind. Suffice it to say that the biological father would be the legal heir.” He swallowed painfully. “In my case, Drouwh’s, and little A’ailh’sa’s.”

    There was a short pause.

    “We had that right, then,” noted BrTl. “The Fleet Commander gets the lot. And then the Full College swoops.”

    There was another pause, longer, this time.

    R’shn licked her lips nervously. “Aunty Jhl, if you could get the Fleet Commander away from that Full Surgeon, then wouldn’t everybody else be safe?”

    “Very logical, R’shn. How did you think of that?”

    BrTl cleared his throat.

    “It’s all right: I can see exactly what’s been done to her,” said Jhl tiredly. “I’ll just check to see whether— Well, it looks all right,” she admitted.

    “The we-it is quite sure that the Full College is not using this being as a spy, Captain,” Trff assured her. It pointed an antenna at G’gg. “Or the cognate. Or the S’zzie.”

    “Good,” said Jhl, sagging slightly. “Uh—hang on: what’s this list R’shn’s got?”

    “Nothing at all of significance!” said Trff quickly.

    “Trff, don’t you think the presence of this list might make a Full Surgeon or an official of the IG M.C. even more suspicious than the odd humanoid happening to ask for information about the odd commodity?”

    “Supposing they bothered to look at this odd humanoid!” said R’shn with a nervous laugh.

    “Quite,” agreed Rh’aiiy’hn, giving her a reassuring smile. “I think you’re being over-cautious, Captain.”

    “It isn’t possible to be over-cautious with the Full College and the IG Minerals Commission, hasn’t that sunk in YET?” she snarled.

    There was a short silence. BrTl looked studiously at the grass. G’gg took his gaze away from the picnic baskets and looked at his own feet instead. L’Thea was also looking at her feet. R’shn looked down at her hands in her lap: the hands shook a little.

    “I didn’t mean to yell, Rh’aiiy’hn,” said Jhl weakly. “But it’s a question of several beings’ safety, including R’shn’s, your own, your brother’s, and your sister’s!”

    “This it-being has taken that list away,” it reported quickly.

    “I didn’t want to know about all those things, anyway, Trff,” R’shn assured it.

    “I would like suggestions,” said Jhl steadily, “as to how we are going to get Shan away from his Vvlvanian-cursed old mum and off vacuum-frozen Whtyll and out of the reach of the Full College. –Out of that particular Full Surgeon’s reach, for a start.” She waited.

    G’gg began: “Um—” and then thought better of It.

    His aunt eyed him thoughtfully.

    “All RIGHT!” he shouted. “YOU think of something!”

    “I can’t think of anything!” replied Jhl with feeling.

    L’Thea wrinkled her brow. “We could get there: I mean, going to see how he was could be a—a legitimate reason for being there.”

    “Mm,” agreed Jhl drily. “If we were supposed to know he was sick in the first place. –No, all right, we could take Lady Myr-Lah gh K’ml Vt R’aam another load of Huyajhangwanian oddlis, or nip over to see how her bunions are getting on.”—BrTl’s tail twitched angrily: it was just as well the Old Rthfrdian countryside was pretty roomy.—“Or some such,” she conceded. “Then what? Immobilise the Full Surgeon?”

    BrTl began: “Well, won’t these new powers of yours—”

    “This it-being will do that,” it announced.

    “Oh,” said Jhl, sagging. “Thanks, Trff.”

    “Can you?” gasped G’gg. “Two galaxies!”

    “This is beginning to sound easy!” said BrTl happily.

    Jhl grimaced. “Ye-ah… There is the small point that there’s a palaceful of other beings. We encounter the same problem we did with Rhan.”

    “Do we?” said the Regent meekly.

    “Sorry,” she said, giving him a smile but, he would have bet his last embroidered undershirt, not seeing him. “We can’t very well leave them all immobilised, but I can’t quite see waking them up with enough time to get right away.”

    “This it-being will show you-it how to build in a delay factor.”

    “How long will that take, Trff?” asked Jhl, not looking very excited.

    “In terms of the commonly perceived space-time continuum—and given the mammalian humanoid psychology and physiology…”

    “I think that settles that,” decided BrTl, after an appreciable period had elapsed, in terms of the commonly perceived Y-K-W. “You’d better do it yourself, Trff.”

    “Yes.”

    “Restrain your excitement,” said Jhl drily to her First Officer. “Just tell me how long it’ll take you-it to do it, Trff.”

    “Point zero, zero, zero, zero—Oh. In your-its terms, a split IG microsecond. The delay can be as long as you-it requires, Jhl.”

    “Two galaxies!” croaked G’gg.

    “Yeah,” conceded his aunt, a trifle limply. “Well, that’s great, Trff. Let’s see what we’ve got so far. We turn up, shields up, pretending to be delivering a choice cargo. And having zapped the lot of them with a decent delay factor, smuggle Shan out to the spaceport and away.”

    “Good!” approved BrTl happily.

    “There’s a flaw in it somewhere,” murmured Rh’aiiy’hn.

    “You might show some interest!” responded Jhl heatedly.

    Rh’aiiy’hn cuddled the grizzling S’zzie. “Ssh! Are you hungry, my pet? –I’m no strategist, Captain, and I'm sure the three of you can manage it beautifully.”

    “I—I suppose the flaw is that they’ll be suspicious,” ventured R’shn. “However we do it.”

    “Top of the class, go to Advanced Pilot Training,” replied her aunt on a sour note.

    “Well, yeah: I mean, wouldn't you be, if your prize captive was spirited away from under your Friyrian nose? More so, if we go in with our shields up,” noted BrTl.

    Jhl scrambled up—with some difficulty: she’d forgotten about the crippling bow around the bipedal humanoid knees. “Can’t be helped! –Come on, G’gg, let’s open these baskets!”

    “Yeah!”

    “Yes: S’zzie’s hungry,” agreed Rh’aiiy’hn placidly. “Aren’t you, my pet?”

    Jhl opened a basket. “And by the by, forget any notions of ‘we,’ R’shn.”

    “What? Why can’t I come?” cried R’shn indignantly’

    Jhl looked round at her drily. “You and L’Thea can toss a farthnum to see who stays here as me. My vote’d be you: similar genetic encoding, and you do look more like me.”

    BrTl explained courteously to the Regent: “L’Thea’s head-fur is definitely yellow, sir, when in its natural state. Yellow and—uh—fuzzy.”

     Rh’aiiy’hn kissed S’zzie’s gently, smiling. “Fuzzy, is it?”

    “That’s the wrong word,” BrTl acknowledged glumly.

    “Curly,” explained L’Thea, smiling. “Look: she likes him!” she said to R’shn.

    R’shn went very pink and nodded convulsively, avoiding the Regent’s eye.

    Meanwhile Jhl had her head in a basket. “These are bun things: quite edible,” she explained to G’gg. “Don’t expect them to be anything like Mum’s buns, though. –That settles it, R’shn had definitely better be me. Not me, I’ll be me. R’shn can be the Lady Roz.”

    R’shn gasped, and went pinker than ever. “But—”

    “Then I can come!” cried L’Thea.

    “No,” said BrTl definitely, opening another very, very small basket. Oh—mok shit. Not that he’d expected—Well, half a grqwary, maybe?

    “No,” agreed Jhl, unwrapping something. “Ugh!”

    L’Thea began to wail: “But Lord Vt R’aam was my master! Why can’t I—”

    R’shn continued to object: “But I can’t be a ladyship, Aunty Jhl! I don’t know how!”

    And S’zzie, possibly maddened by the sight of actual food that no-one was offering her, burst into loud shrieks.

    Hurriedly Rh’aiiy’hn reached over and grabbed a khuish-preserve tartlet for her. “Can we—”

    True, G’gg goggled at him round a khuish-preserve tartlet; but nobody else took any notice.

    The Regent of Old Rthfrdia took a deep breath. “CAN WE JUST HAVE OUR PICNIC, PLEASE?”

    There was a stunned silence in their particular part of the depths of the nwhortlp Old Rthfrdian countryside. The more so since he’d both sent it and bellowed it. The more so since he had both sounded and felt like Y-K-W when you were up before him for something slightly serious.

    “Thank you,” he said acidly. “The discussion is closed. The Captain, the Lieutenant and the Chief Engineer will rejoin their ship and travel to Whtyll. The rest of you will stay here.”

    G’gg goggled at him round his khuish-preserve tartlet but didn’t dare to speak.

    “We shall now have the picnic,” he said grimly. “And as the presence of a Ju’ukrterian shield in the depths of the Old Rthfrdian countryside may, if spotted, arouse some suspicions, I must beg you to lower it, Chief Engineer.”

    “But then we won’t be able to talk!” gasped L’Thea.

    “Precisely.”

    “This it-being will continue to shelter the knowledge in these younger humanoids’ minds,” said Trff. “Unless you-it requires it to erase or suppress it, sir.”

    Rh’aiiy’hn eyed it in a jaundiced manner. “Would this sheltering be likely to appear to any being at present on this planet or, er, within inspection-distance of it, as having anything at all Ju’ukrterian about it, Chief Engineer?”

    “He’s catching on,” muttered BrTl glumly. “Covers every space base in the quadrant, doesn’t it? –Sorry,” he muttered, catching his Captain’s eye.

    “Nothing at all Ju’ukrterian, sir!” it said quickly.

    “Good. Then lower that shield, please.”

    “This Lone Delegate has done as you requested, sir,” Trff hooted sadly.

    Complete silence fell

    “Pass me a khuish-preserve tartlet, please, Lady Roz,” said Rh’aiiy’hn politely.

    Tight-lipped, Jhl passed the Regent of Old Rthfrdia a khuish-preserve tartlet.