It had been almost half an hour since she commanded the presence of her adviser.
Certainly, Siginwe had not needed the woman before. Certainly, she could be patient, but where were they? Unacceptable. Palps twitched as she pouted, one hand toying with the stem of a cherry.
She slumped, flung her legs over the arm of her lounge in petulance. The clatter of gold baubles and carapace made the human below her jump. President something-something, of the United States of America. He was sweating in the tropical heat of the throne room, nervously shot the cuffs of his suit. Over-dressed, of course, his pink skin was going slowly red above the neck of his shirt.
“Your highness,” he said again, “I’m sure I can explain the situation myself-”
“No.” Sig said. “Be silent, I’m thinking.”
The president was silent. Sig watched him unblinking, the way his eyes darted around the room. To the armed men around the walls, the creatures in the shallow salt pool between them. Sig had had the audience room styled after a Khashi palace, and maybe all the gold was blinding him. Humans had very weak, pale eyes. One of her guards had told her, recently, that the species couldn’t see ultraviolet, green or blue wavelengths. If so half the image was wasted on him: the lush Khashi flowers, patterned silk hangings, the tile of the dias. Even some of her paint. But in any case, the savages wouldn’t have appreciated it.
Another cherry disappeared under the veil, shadowed by gnashing palps. The first box had been a gift from one of the little countries, but she had since ordered ten crates. No food should have so much fructose, but cherries made these meetings tolerable. Like now, for example - how was she to know whether fission weapons had 'symbolic importance' for Earth’s peace and unity? This species put symbolic importance on every damn thing.
“Aric,” she said, sharp.
The general made a diffident tilt of his head, not quite hiding a twitch at the edge of his mouth. Maybe he was bored, too. “Yes, exalted princess.”
“If I allow them to keep a few little warheads, would this bother you overmuch?”
“Your highness,” he said, paused to gather himself. “They are fairly large warheads-”
But he didn't finish. His gaze flashed to the corner, where a servant was prostrating herself.
“Forgive me,” the maid said, “the human delegate has arrived.”
Certainly, Siginwe had not needed the woman before. Certainly, she could be patient, but where were they? Unacceptable. Palps twitched as she pouted, one hand toying with the stem of a cherry.
She slumped, flung her legs over the arm of her lounge in petulance. The clatter of gold baubles and carapace made the human below her jump. President something-something, of the United States of America. He was sweating in the tropical heat of the throne room, nervously shot the cuffs of his suit. Over-dressed, of course, his pink skin was going slowly red above the neck of his shirt.
“Your highness,” he said again, “I’m sure I can explain the situation myself-”
“No.” Sig said. “Be silent, I’m thinking.”
The president was silent. Sig watched him unblinking, the way his eyes darted around the room. To the armed men around the walls, the creatures in the shallow salt pool between them. Sig had had the audience room styled after a Khashi palace, and maybe all the gold was blinding him. Humans had very weak, pale eyes. One of her guards had told her, recently, that the species couldn’t see ultraviolet, green or blue wavelengths. If so half the image was wasted on him: the lush Khashi flowers, patterned silk hangings, the tile of the dias. Even some of her paint. But in any case, the savages wouldn’t have appreciated it.
Another cherry disappeared under the veil, shadowed by gnashing palps. The first box had been a gift from one of the little countries, but she had since ordered ten crates. No food should have so much fructose, but cherries made these meetings tolerable. Like now, for example - how was she to know whether fission weapons had 'symbolic importance' for Earth’s peace and unity? This species put symbolic importance on every damn thing.
“Aric,” she said, sharp.
The general made a diffident tilt of his head, not quite hiding a twitch at the edge of his mouth. Maybe he was bored, too. “Yes, exalted princess.”
“If I allow them to keep a few little warheads, would this bother you overmuch?”
“Your highness,” he said, paused to gather himself. “They are fairly large warheads-”
But he didn't finish. His gaze flashed to the corner, where a servant was prostrating herself.
“Forgive me,” the maid said, “the human delegate has arrived.”