Honor of the Clan (3 page)

In the current case, the Indowy Iltai Halaani sat on a stool at one end of the bay, headset connected to all the tanks with an absurd spaghetti tangle of wiring, holding all the tanks in a stable state. Work had stopped. Michelle walked to the center of the bay and turned full circle, absorbing the sight. She had expected the response, once word got back to Adenast that she had at last been compelled by circumstance to see her clan head. With that meeting ended the polite fiction that the estrangement of the human Clan O'Neal from the rest of the Indowy species did not reach to Adenast. Clan Aelool and Clan Beilil had remained aligned with O'Neal in the Bane Sidhe split of 2047. Aelool was minuscule, and had a paltry three breeding groups on Adenast, and those refugees lived completely on the other side of the world. Beilil was also quite small, one of the smaller groups reoccupying the most habitable portions of Dulain.

Despite growing up there, Michelle O'Neal had no pressing reason to live and work on Adenast rather than relocating to Dulain—no reason except for the contracted projects in the middle of construction in this very bay. Once again, she faced a life or death situation. If she could not complete her projects on time, within specified variations of delivery, theoretically she could be hauled into contract court and her debts called in. With the troubles the Darhel Epetar Group was having from their recently foiled plot to do just that, she doubted another group would court similar disaster. Also, one of her projects had been contracted by the Epetar Group. In the likely event of its default, she would have to write a new contract with a new buyer. A building main control system wouldn't lack for demand, and she could write its contract for delivery as late as she had to, effectively keeping the project in abeyance for years.

Her mind busily calculated the options. What was that saying?
I expected this, but not so soon.
Her problem was that she would have to exquisitely coordinate schedules and new project deadlines to move her operations, picking up lower-return short-term work as the long-term projects completed. It would cost a great deal of FedCreds, and further her debt. It was possible but only if she had the workers to get those coordinated projects to completion. The Aelools had contracts. She might be able to find a couple of Beilil families who were between contracts and could help her wind up her operation in the interim, but her work was large. There was low probability that their help would be enough, and the scheduling delays while they traveled from Dulain to Adenast were going to be prohibitive.

It wouldn't be enough.

Her mind turned the problem over like a game of aethal laid out on the board. It was a losing board, but her highly skilled gamesmanship refused to stop gnawing away at the problem.

The Aelools were not blacklisted. It was possible she could get the Adenast families to swap out other-clan replacements for
their
current projects. If she could persuade them, she could have the Adenast Aelools relocated and working in any time between one and ten days. Three breeding groups could take on one eighth of her current projects, and she could make all but one of her immediate deadlines for the Group most likely to be hard cases about her "issues."

The problem there was that Beilil, while remaining friendly with O'Neal, did not owe much of a favor balance to the clan. She'd have to get the word to Dulain, get groups with the right skill mix re-tasked, get those groups to Adenast for even on the most temporary of jobs. She calculated best and worst case estimates. It was an impossible task.

If grandfather's diplomatic mission to Barwhon was a complete success, he might succeed in mending relations with at least one of the major clans on Adenast. The Koolanai Clan who raised her were, on the whole, quite fond of her. They, reasonably, felt that her high achievement reflected well on them and brought their own clan honor. Or, they had. If Clan O'Neal's reputation was restored, they stood to gain as much as anyone. They were also one fourth of her work force.

Clan Roolnai was her real problem. They had staked a lot of personal reputation on the collaboration with humans, albeit covertly through the Bane Sidhe, and were furious at the embarrassment caused by the now near-universal public opinion verdict of humanity's irredeemable mass insanity.

Since 2047 she'd held her Roolnai workers through force of personality, sheer will, and a very liberal hand with favors to the breeding groups contracted for her project. That same liberality with favors had prevented her from replacing Roolnai families with Koolanai families as several projects had completed and been replaced with new work.

The bottom line was that without some kind of give from the Indowy Roolnai, she was toast. Maybe not dead, but in so unenviable a debt position that her carefully nurtured ability to pick and choose her projects would be gone for life. She'd have to take whatever projects would give her the best short-term profit, like crumbs from the Darhel tables.

However, if Grandfather agreed it was useful to the Clan, trickling in the credits she'd won for the O'Neals by "fencing" the level nine code keys would gradually pull her back up, but slowly, so slowly as to stretch even a mentat's long-term view.

First, try the obvious,
she thought, resisting the temptation to smack herself on the forehead. She walked the length of the bay, using the transit belts to cover the vast distance, until she stood beside Iltai Halaani. "I will take over this task. Please convey my regards to the Indowy Roolnai and pass on to him my humble request that he agree to see me on a matter of importance to his clan."

"Indowy Roolnai, I see you," she said, rising effortlessly to her feet.

She had been honestly worried he wouldn't come. If he hadn't, it would have spelled ruin.

Iltai Haalani had accompanied the clan head back to the bay and, as they had come in at the end where she'd been keeping vigil over her work, he was able to immediately resume control of the tanks, freeing her for discourse with the clan head.

"Human Michelle O'Neal, I see you," Roolnai replied politely, his green-furred face blank of all expression.

"I appreciate your great kindness in coming to meet me personally," she said.

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."

Chapter Two

"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.

"He's so perfectly polished I'm surprised you noticed," Mike said.

"I'm pushing eighty and he's been my aide for five years," Tam said. "I can read him like a book if not the other way around, no matter what he thinks."