John Ringo: Honor of the Clan

The Indowy inclined his head in acknowledgment, an expressive gesture common to both species. “Knowing you, I am sure you would not represent a matter as important to my clan if it was not.”

A warning. He was prepared to hear her out, but not favorably inclined, and not disposed to spend any great time on the meeting. “I notice that the workers on these projects are absent today,” Michelle got right to the core of the problem.

“Did you expect otherwise?” he asked.

“No. Not under the circumstances. I did, however, hope that they might remain while Clan O’Neal reorganized obligations with allied labor.”

“Such action is not customary in the circumstances. The clans who formerly worked on these projects are at odds with Clan O’Neal. How can the estranged exchange favors?”

“I recognize that Clan Roolnai and Clan Halaani have already been more than kind.”

“You had not yet communicated with your clan head. How could we decently proceed without allowing time for both sides to receive the news?”

She accepted the polite fiction for what it was — a recognition of her own history of proper loolnieth towards her clan.

“In my… news… from the O’Neal, he also communicated his intention to travel to Barwhon and attempt to restore relations with the Tchpth,” she offered. Leaving out the chronology also preserved necessary fictions about the speed of communications and related matters for discretion.

“Interesting news,” he said, ears twitching in surprise. “Still, the nature of the breach is of a delicate kind, possibly unmendable.”

The Indowy deciding humanity was fundamentally insane qualified as unmendable if anything did. Her only hope lay in introducing doubt in that conclusion.

“Perhaps. You are aware that certain intriguers among my race massively altered their brain chemistry.” There. Frame the “insanity” as artificially induced by primitive medical practices.

“The Indowy Clans, as all civilized races, recognize consumption of flesh as a dangerously primitive trait.” Roolnai shuddered at the word “flesh.” “There are natural concerns about such a species from the very beginning.”

“Of course. But the ‘beginning,’ as you say, goes back far beyond the present eye-blink. Your race has a great deal of experience of mine, and of your clans engaging with ours.”

Again the clan head’s ears twitched, surprised. “I suppose it is to be expected that you would be better informed than other humans. Your observation is true. It is also true that human clan structure has weakened, particularly in the survivors of the great slaughter, and many clans have judged that change not to be for the better. Including my own. Advancing medical care an infant’s step is all very well, but if the fundamental cause lies elsewhere…”

“Recent events, deplorable though they have been, should properly mitigate one of the causes for concern. However horrific the events, the O’Neal’s judgment of the value to our very small clan of a particular member has in some measure been vindicated. Primitive skills, but a link in the chain not only to Clan O’Neal survival but to Path value that even the Tchpth acknowledged.”

“You would speak to me of that ?”

He was stiff with rage, as she had expected, given the bloody nature of her sister’s skills — and actions. Still, her case largely rested on the proved truth that Grandfather’s choice to rescue Cally, in violation of the will of a large chunk of the Bane Sidhe, was not mere sentiment, but rationally in the interests of Clan O’Neal and not adverse to its then-allies. She had no doubt that Grandfather’s choice was based entirely on human two-way loyalty and his personal sense of honor, with sentiment to sweeten the pot, but the Indowy understanding of human xenopsychology was limited. The Indowy Roolnai was not, in the next five minutes, going to come to an understanding of why two-way loyalty was a survival advantage for human clans. She had to use the argument that would work — she hoped.

“Primitive. Abhorrent. But the action was not only arguably necessary to Clan O’Neal’s vital interests, it also appeared,” she strongly emphasized the word, “ appeared so favorably tied to Galactic interests and the safety of the Path itself that even the Tchpth believed those abilities were strictly necessary. Outside precedent, but necessary. I concede that aspects of the outcome were overwhelmingly unfortunate—”

Roolnai’s expression of complete revulsion told her she’d better win him over fast or she’d have lost her chance.

“The Tchpth are wiser than all of us. If their wisest, for a time, believed the Path itself was at stake, how can the Clans judge the same decision to be insane in a species all admit is underdeveloped and primitive? How can one judge a species, even a clan, on the action of one member who, under the greatest possible stresses and absent full information, took an action that the Tchpth contemplated?”

The Galactic turned away from her, breathing slowly and carefully, in an action reminiscent of the Darhel breathing exercises. Emotional control was not vital to his continued existence as it was for theirs. That did not negate his need to recover it. After a long moment he turned back to face her.

“We may have acted in excessive haste. May ,” he emphasized.

“When a breach is not sure, a small favor of keeping families on their current, well-paid contracts while the matter is under consideration is surely not unusual.”

“When you were personally in danger, I saw no emotion for yourself — which is only proper. Now, with far more of your clan’s interests at stake, emotion leaks through despite yourself. Knowing your professionalism and dedication to the Path, that is no small thing. This is what persuades me. Clan Roolnai will agree to continuing this exchange of favors with Clan O’Neal for the present. I feel confident that Clan Halaani, having an even closer personal tie in the matter, will take a similar view. And, as you say, the Tchpth are wiser than we, and farther along the Path. We will permit time for the reconsideration.”

Oh my. Grandfather, I hope you do a very good job, she thought. I cannot believe that my lapse in control was the deciding factor. Even for me, what my sister says holds true: alien minds are alien.

Before he turned to go, Roolnai’s face crinkled in amusement. “Some of your workers may not arrive back until tomorrow morning. I understand many have taken the opportunity to do something with their children. I believe that is something our species have in common.”

“General O’Neal,” the lieutenant colonel said, saluting as Mike stepped out of the aircar. “Welcome to Fredericksburg Base.” The colonel was tall, slim, so racially mixed it was anyone’s guess the inputs, and wearing the tabs of an aide to a lieutenant general. Mike vaguely recognized him but that could be said about most of the senior officers in Fleet Strike.

“Thank you,” Mike replied, waving a hand at his head.

“General Wesley has you blocked out for an hour starting, well, now, General,” the colonel said. “But he said if you’re fatigued from your travels…”

“I’ve been sitting on ships for five months,” Mike said, gesturing toward the front entrance. “It’s not hard work.”

“Yes, sir ,” the colonel said. “It’s this—”

“I know where the Chief of Staff’s office is, Colonel,” Mike said, putting an edge on his tone. “Just go .”

“Lieutenant Colonel Timmons looked a bit put out,” General Wesley said as Mike grabbed a chair.