Putkwyz, Ch11, "In Mikito"

11



In Mikito



By the time we landed in Mikito, the capital of Kunwyz, the war situation had turned considerably in favor of the allies. The Radimeer invasion flotilla of troop transports had been almost entirely wiped out before Milisaca, and the one before the Windy Islands of Kunwyz had been reduced by half and were turning back. Furthermore, one Radimeer aircraft carrier had been hit and was burning near the Windy Isles; the main carrier of Ladimeer had also been badly damaged by attack planes. And Sobimeer and Polimeer were still in the fight, holding on courageously against their militarily stronger enemies.

Mikito sits in the center of Kunwyz, in a high valley surrounded by darkly foliaged mountains. The city rises beautifully constructed of metal and glass in the newer sections, and brick and wood in the older traditional sections. The asphalt streets and stone sidewalks are as clean and orderly as the Kuneen themselves. That Kunwyz is a nation of laws is obvious. The Putkurs of Kunwyz, whose scales are an intriguing mixture of orange and blue, walk proudly as if each of them, male or female, is master of his or her fate. Women are not yet enfranchised, but they, too, are being educated and are beginning to insist on suffrage because they have realized that the males are no more competent and intelligent than they.

For a capital at war, the city moved surprisingly peacefully, with traffic in orderly flow, people walking with the leisurely pace of shoppers or the urgent stride of business people. The few police that were visible in their black uniforms with embroidered badges sat in vehicles or strolled along the walks. The reason for this was that Radimeer had no long-range bombers that could safely reach Mikito and return to Radimeer; that is why Radimeer wanted to seize at least one Windy Island: its medium-range bombers would be in range of all of Kunwyz, and it would be in a position to control sea trading routes.

The one visible sign of a nation united in some urgent cause was the Kuneen flag flying over almost every building: an orange, purple and black banner sloughing gently in the mountain breeze. Orange for courage, purple for strength—the purple part included four triangles representing that Kunwyz was a mountainous country to every point of the compass—and the black was a stylized conifer, the sacred Miki tree whose wood and leaves provided shelter, food and fuel for early Kuneens. Today, every Kuneen household has a bowl of Miki nuts available for snacks and guests.

Mawgri and I left the ship, which departed then to join his merchant fleet delivering supplies to Kunwyz distributors. Standing in the cold mountain air that turned my breath into white puffs, I saw the ships descending, fifty silver ovals lowering into unloading berths at warehouses in the suburbs. (Another reason Radimeer desired a bomber base in range of Mikito.)

A guard led Mawgri and me to a brown car that took us through the clean, ordered streets to a green mansion, whose closely trimmed purple lawn glistened like a frosted carpet. A huge Kuneen flag rippled in the breeze above the green house. We were led up brown steps into a foyer, and from there, a secretary took us through carpeted corridors to the president’s office.

President Komplas was a smaller than average Putkur dressed in a dark blue body suit. He rose and came forward to greet us. “Mawgri, always a pleasure to see you again.” The president and Mawgri hugged briefly, exchanging licks; then Komplas looked at me. “I presume that you are Malcolm, the ambassador from the Sol System that we have been hearing about.” We hugged, Komplas’s tongue running briefly over my forehead, and then he returned to his desk chair. “Sit down, gentlemen.”

As pleasant as the meeting was, I perceived that President Komplas was agitated as any leader would be whose country was in a desperate military situation. He was like a father in a paternalistic land where men were valued but who had only daughters and had to provide a dowry to each successive husband but did not know if his daughter would be happy or if the husband would be a brute who mistreated his young wife. He had to live with a lot of hope mixed with worry.

I said, “I’m sorry to have to arrive under such strained circumstances.”

Komplas waved a hand and said, “And I regret having to receive you during a war, but it was unexpected. We didn’t think Radimeer would do anything for another six months. However, we were on our guard and put the attacking fleets in a snikkee’s nest of counterattacks. (A snikkee is a hive insect with a stinger.)Thanks to . . . uh . . . unnamed sources, we have jet fighters and attack aircraft, which we have kept secret for months. Radimeer’s and Ladimeer’s pilots and ships were totally unprepared for the wave of jets that we sent at them. And after the jets had done their work, we sent a wave of propeller planes, so the attackers would have no rest. And after that, a wave of hydrofoil watercraft with torpedoes and missiles—another secret weapon. Our scientists and engineers have been working overtime to get us ready.

“Can I get you some refreshments?”

Mawgri said, “Just some water would be fine. We ate a large meal an hour ago.”

“There is water on that table. Help yourself.” He pointed to a table behind us, where was not only water but also a bowl of Miki nuts.

Mawgri rose and brought a pitcher and three glasses. He poured for all of us.

I said, “Mr. President, what are the latest reports of the battle?”

He smiled, “They are very good. One aircraft carrier sunk and two damaged. One battleship sunk and several smaller combat ships. But, most importantly, around twenty troop transports have been sunk, so their fleets are turning back.” He leaned forward conspiratorially and said, “In fact, if our admirals’ plans are being carried out, at this moment an attack is being unleashed on Ladimeer’s coastal cities by air and sea by some other secret weapons. I know Mawgri can keep a secret. Can you, Ambassador?”

“Yes, of course, and although ambassadors must be neutral, I admit a certain affinity for Saca and Kunwyz, which are much more like my own federation than is Radimeer.”

“Then I will tell you. We knew we couldn’t build an aircraft carrier and the planes for it in time for an outbreak of war, but our military leaders insisted that we must have some kind of offensive force. After reviewing the options, we found a solution. An air attack force could be built from current aircraft converted from wheels to pontoons for landing in water. And we had five large, fast tankers that were converted into seaplane tenders. Each tender can carry one hundred single-engine planes or sixty two-engine planes or a combination of eighty. Besides that, port-based seaplane bombers and reconnaissance planes can use the tenders for refueling and rearming. We also converted six submarines from torpedoes to missiles for coastal bombardment.

“Those attacks have been launched, so Ladimeer is in for a nasty surprise. Their battle fleet is limping home, and their land-based planes are in bases near Sobimeer in order to attack that ally. Our attack force should have total surprise. Ladimeer will not be able to do much until they have shifted forces back. When they do, they will find damaged and depleted facilities.

“I believe that after today, Ladimeer will regret joining Radimeer in its aggressive war of dominance. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they withdrew their forces from Cosimeer in order to shore up their own defenses. That is our hope anyway.”

Mawgri said, “It is our hope, too. If I may change the subject, Malcolm has information about the religion Kandizam.”

“Oh, what is that?”

I said, “First let me ask what percentage of Kunwyz’s population are worshippers of Zacon.”

“Twenty percent are dedicated worshipers of the traditional faith, but 40 percent are believers who do not take Sacacon as heaven’s representative. They do, however, try to live by the words of Kandi. The words of Kandi have influenced all of us to some degree, even if some of us consider him more a philosopher than a messenger of a supreme being.”

I took a breath and said, “Kandi was actually a citizen of Sol. He was part of an exploration team that crashed on your planet. The unreadable sacred book that was preserved in Sacawyz is actually The Log of Captain Christopher Hennessey of the Golden Hind. I have already read it. Hennessey’s gifts to your planet were his version of laws from several religions of the Sol system and the written language and the ability to read and write that he taught Envak.”

Komplas regarded me a moment with his yellow eyes and scratched his purple scaled chin. Finally, he said, “We are grateful to him. Can the logbook be translated?”

“Of course. I made a copy, and I can send you a copy. I’ll translate the first ten pages into Putkeen with Mawgri’s help. Then I will send that to you. You may use me as a consultant as long as I am in the Za system.”

“And how long will that be?”

“I’m not sure, but at least one circuit of Za.”

“I’ll have scholars work on translating the entire logbook and get it published. It’ll be a crushing blow to some true believers, but I think most will accept it and still value the ideas of Kandi. If not sacred text, his writings can always become literature and a cultural artifact.”

“If you can give us an office to work in, we can work on the first ten pages tonight,” said Mawgri.

The President smiled and pushed a button. Then he said, “I’ll have the secretary give you an office. Since you will be here tonight, dine with me.”

“We would be honored.”

“Eight o’clock. Now excuse me. I have to meet with the generals and admirals.”

“Of course.”

After the president left for the strategy session, the secretary arrived and showed us to a small office in the west wing of the presidential residence. She explained (Yes, in Kunwyz women held jobs), “There are quite a few offices available. Many of the staff are in the federal guard or military reserves and have been called to other duties.” We thanked her and she went out.

I looked around the office and saw only a keyboard in Putkeen and a word processing machine. “How shall we do this?”

Mawgri ran his tongue into my ear, extracted it, and said, “Do you have the book with you?”

Slightly breathless, I breathed, “In my camera.”

“Why don’t you read it to me, and I will type. We can do at least the first ten pages very rapidly. We could do selected pages after that if we have time.”

I pulled up a chair before the desk and pulled out my camera, and Mawgri sat at the word processor. “Whenever you are ready.”

I began to read aloud. As I read the language so familiar to me, I grew nostalgic for the blue skies and green vegetation of earth. The first ten pages went quickly as those first ten days aboard the Golden Hind were relatively routine while Hennessey and the crew settled in for the long flight. I read. Mawgri listened and typed, occasionally stopping to have me clarify a meaning. During those interruptions my mind raced back to my childhood on Earth and my first assignment on Mars.

* * * *

My childhood had been, it seemed in hindsight, an idyllic time. Of course, I had to go to school, but I enjoyed learning and knew that mastering many skills was important. I always felt loved and cared for. We traveled quite a bit, so I had lived in several places on Earth—China, North America, Argentina, Europe. Regardless of where father had been stationed, he always got a residence with comfortable rooms and a green yard. During vacations and holidays, we would tour the countryside and visit historic sites or places of natural beauty. Once, when I was fifteen, I accompanied my father on a mission that took us to Luna and then to Mars. As fascinated as I was by that trip through the black reaches of space, it made me appreciate the beauty and beneficence of our original green and blue planet.

After graduating from a military academy, I was assigned duty on Mars as an embassy guard and a cryptologist. Sol Separatists had been fomenting trouble on the red planet, and the military cooperated with the civilian police to keep an eye on them. Such work sounds interesting as if I would be involved in intrigues, but it was drudge work because the malcontents did more talking than anything risky and exciting.

Despite Mars’ lighter gravity and the leaps and bounds that had been made in terra formation, I found it a depressing environment with its harsh red earth and gloomy yellow skies. The periodic dust storms were particularly enervating and debilitating. In fact, I had been considering volunteering for hazardous terra-formation duty on one of Jupiter’s moons when the starship was announced ready for its trip toward the Crab Nebula and needed crew.

* * * *

In approximately an hour, we had finished the first ten pages of the logbook. Mawgri printed the pages and I looked at them, but they were in Putkeen, so I didn’t really read them. Mawgri read them to me, and I compared what I was hearing with the text of each page in English. Mawgri had done a fine job. Only seven words or phrases had slightly missed the mark, so we went over those until the concepts were clearer and made more exactly true to the English words.

Mawgri said, “Your eyes took on a dreamy look while you read. Did the words make you homesick?”

Surprised at his perspicacity, I said, “Yes. Was it so obvious?”

“Not so, but I’m sensitive to your moods. We have time to do more.”

“Then let’s do these specific pages: 42 and 43, 51-54, 266, 304 and 305. They will give Putkurs a sense of what happened.”

“Another nine pages. Go ahead.”

I read again. Of course, Mawgri had already heard the story once, but hearing the exact words of the text made the story more intense. When those nine pages were done, Mawgri read them to me and we smoothed out a number of words and phrases. He said, “You Earth people are a marvelous species.” As usual, I couldn’t tell if he was being truly admiring or a little teasing, but I cared for him so much that I just smiled and nodded my thanks.

By then it was a quarter to eight. Mawgri gathered the nineteen pages together, found an empty envelope and slid the pages into it. “Let’s go to dinner.”

We were shown the dining room, but were surprised to find only the President waiting for us at a large table with forty-two chairs, yet only three place settings at one end. Once again he embraced us and ushered us to our seats. Servers came in and put platters of savory food before us: taloos in sauce, a salad of purple leaves and pink wyrd, tak muffins, and a white fish baked in gwarg butter. Already on the table was the ubiquitous bowl of Miki nuts. I took one of the fish and a little bit of everything else. We ate the tasty food. I found the Miki nuts both nourishing, crunchy and with a taste akin to hazelnuts. I knew not to talk until the president burped and sighed to show satisfaction with the repast.

Then Mawgri pulled out the envelope and handed it to Komplas. “Nineteen pages. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to transfer the photographic images from the camera, but I can do that in my ship tomorrow and dispatch the book to you.”

“That’s fine,” the President said with a touch of weariness in his voice and laid the envelope on a nearby table and then picked up a book from the table. “I have something for you, Ambassador. It’s a copy of The Words of Kandi. It is in Putkeen, of course, since there are no translations into other languages, but I know you are learning the language.”

“Thank you, sir. I am honored.”

“I decided to have no others to dinner tonight because I didn’t want to have to explain this exchange. Like Sacacon, I think it is prudent to keep this ecclesiastical revelation to ourselves until the war ends.”
Mawgri said, “Are there any further reports from the battles?”

The President grinned and said, “Yes, both invasion fleets are heading home. They’ve taken a beating and realized that invasion is no longer possible.”

“And the secret flotilla of seaplanes?”

“They have struck and the submarines have launched their missiles. However, the results are not entirely known because night came shortly after the attack. Tomorrow we’ll send reconnaissance planes to photograph the results. We do know that fires are burning in all six coastal cities. Our forces sank a number of ships in all the ports and destroyed airplanes and vehicles.”

Mawgri stood and said, “President, we know you are busy and need your rest, so we’ll go now. Expect that dispatch shortly.”

Komplas smiled, but I felt his mind had already returned to his hopes and worries for his country. I stood and said, “Thank you again for the book, sir. I will tell the citizens of Sol that Putkwyz has two courageous leaders, you and Sacacon.”

He stood and said, “Ambassador Malcolm, it was a pleasure to meet you. Good luck on your mission. You are in the best hands possible with Mawgri.”

He spoke truer words than he (or I) knew.

End of Chapter 11
 
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