Robert Asprin - Phule's Company

"What a revolting creature."

"Big, though, isn't he?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Qual was studying the figure in silence as the crewmen chattered nervously.

"I wonder if there's any significance to the white cloth he's waving?" he said finally.

"You know, sir," Ori piped up, "I remember back in basic training, we used little pieces of cloth like that to sight in our weapons. "

The flight leftenant favored him with a withering glare.

"I seriously doubt, Ori, that he's inviting us to shoot at him. "

"Well, they shot at me!"

"True, but indications are that they're intelligent."

"Look, Leftenant," Masem broke in, interrupting the exchange.

The figure on the viewscreen was making a big show of holding up its weapon, then carefully setting it on the ground at his feet.

"Well, that's pretty clear."

"Unless it's some kind of ritual challenge to fight."

"For the moment we'll assume that it means they want to parley," Qual said, reaching his decision. "I'm going out there. "

"Do you think that's wise, Leftenant?" his second-in-command queried.

"No... but I don't see where we have much choice at the moment. See if you can get the lift-off units repaired while I try to buy us some time."

"Do you want us to cover you with the ship's guns, sir?"

"That would be great if we had any ship's guns. This is an exploration vessel, not a battleship, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, sir."

"Leftenant," Masem said softly, drawing him to one side, "it might be prudent to be guarded in your conversation with the aliens. We wouldn't want to betray how strong the Zenobian Empire really is."

"Believe me, Masem," Qual hissed, giving one last glance around the control room, "I certainly don't want them to find out our true strength."

"Now that we've established communications, Leftenant," Phule said, "I'd like to begin by apologizing for the unprovoked attack on one of your crew. It was a fear reaction to the unexpected, made before we realized yours was an intelligent species. Further, I'd like to thank you for the merciful nature of your force's counterattack. It is impressive that my underling was only stunned and not killed outright."

Qual was impressed with the translator, though he did his best to act as if it were commonplace. It had taken some time for him to realize he was to hang it around his neck, but once it was in place and in contact with his hide, the various grunts and clickings this strange alien used for speech were readily transformed into images and contacts in his mind. The translation of his own foremost thoughts into those same weird noises was a bit disquieting, but it was worth it to be able to establish that neither force was particularly eager to fight.

"Thank you for the apology, Captain Clown, but-"

"Excuse me, but that's Captain Clown."

"I... see."

The image provided by the translator was identical to the one Qual had formed in his mind when addressing the alien commander. Apparently the mechanism was not as effective as it first appeared.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Captain... Captain, I'm afraid there has been a minor misunderstanding. You see, my crewman was hunting for food when he was attacked, so the weapon he was carrying was designed specifically for that purpose. "

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand, Leftenant."

"Well, we Zenobians prefer to eat our food while it's still alive, so hunting weapons are made to stun instead of kill like our war weapons."

"Oh. I see. Well, no harm done," Phule flashed his smile again.

"Pardon me, Captain, but is that supposed to be a friendly gesture?"

"What?"

"The baring of your fangs. You've done it several times now, but your manner does not indicate a matching hostility."

"Oh. That's a smile... and yes, it's a sign of friendship. I'll try to stop doing it if it offends you."

"No need. I just wanted to be sure I was interpreting it correctly. "

There was an awkward moment of silence, as each representative mentally dealt with this new awareness of the differences between their species.

"Tell me. Leftenant," Phule said at last, "now that we've established that your purposes here are not hostile, might I ask what your actual assignment is? Perhaps we could be of assistance."

Qual considered the question carefully, but could see no danger in answering truthfully.

"We are an exploratory expedition," he explained, "assigned to search for new planets suitable for colonization or research stations. We landed here because swamps such as this are ideal habitats for our needs."

"I see." Legion commander nodded thoughtfully. "Unfortunately this particular swamp has been designated as a preserve by my people. In fact, the presence of my force is to specifically serve as guardians."

"Oh, I understand, Captain," the Zenobian replied quickly. "Believe me, we have no intent to contest your possession of this territory. Space is large, and there are sufficient habitats that we see no need to fight for those already inhabited. Now that we have discovered that these areas are already occupied, we will simply explore in another direction. In fact, we'll be on our way as soon as... soon."

"Now, let's not be hasty," Phule said. "Perhaps we can work something out-something mutually beneficial to both our peoples. "

"How? Excuse me, I don't wish to challenge your veracity, but I thought you said the swamp was unavailable for use."

"This swamp is, but there are others within our system which might serve your needs equally well. Information on their locations could ease or eliminate your need for exploration, and if permissions were obtained in advance, there would be no conflict involved in their settlement."

Qual was suddenly very attentive. Such an arrangement would make him a hero within the Exploratory Forces as well as nullify any lingering disfavor he might be suffering under. Still, he had learned from past experience that offers that sounded too good to be true were usually just that.

"I don't understand, Captain," he said cagily. "Our races may be different, but I've always assumed that intelligence implies a certain degree of self-interest. Why should your people simply give us something which is theirs without asking for anything in return?"

"Oh, we'd want something in return, all right." Phule smiled. "Remember I said an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial. I think you'd find, however, that our demands for return on the use of our swamps would be minimal."

"How minimal?"

"Well... before we get down to specifics, would you mind telling me what the maximum accurate range is for those sporting stun weapons of yours?"

"What happened, Captain?"

"Is there going to be a fight?"

"What do they want?"

Discipline fell by the wayside as the Legionnaires swarmed out to meet their returning commander. Ignoring their questions, Phule waved them to silence as he activated his wrist communicator.

"Com Central."

"Yes, Mother. Patch me through to an off-planet line. I need to get a call through to my father..."

He gave the code number, then glanced up at the impatient Legionnaires who were circling him.

"If you'll listen in on my end of the conversation, you'll hear the answers to most of your questions. For the moment, however, you can all stand down. The alien force is not-repeat, not-hostile. There will be no fight, unless someone-"

"Willie? Is that you?"

Phule turned his attention to his wrist communicator.

"Yes, Dad. I'm here."

"What's the problem? Don't tell me you're tired of playing soldier boy already."

"Dad, I don't say this to you often, but shut up and listen! I have a situation here that potentially involves you, and I don't have time to trade jibes and insults this time. Okay?"