Page 58 of Xel: Broken Bond

Holy heck, this conversation was confusing – a clash of cultures so profound that even attempts to avoid rudeness ended up being rude. “Why do you want to tell us about your scars?” I asked, feeling my head throbbing. “I asked you why you wanted to see Vonnie’s baby. What does this have to do with it?”

Borl glanced at Xel, then Vonnie, then he shrugged. “I lost my eye in a battle on Devahagrib.” I had no idea where that was, but I figured I could look it up later. “I fought with honour and killed eight of our enemies there before I was wounded. But when I returned home, the female who was supposed to be my mate rejected me because of my lost eye. I have long wanted to have pups of my own, but without a female, I cannot do that. So when Goroz said there was a project to build a colony for children, I volunteered. Even if the pups are not my own, even if they are not Ranzors, it will still be enjoyable to see them grow up.”

I had to repress a smile at that, as I suddenly understood what he was asking. If I’d been taken to work on a new project building kennels for a litter of puppies, the first thing I’d want to do was see the puppies. And allowing for a few cross-cultural quirks in translation, that was essentially what Borl wanted. He’d been asked to build a house for a cluster of children – the thing he wanted most in the world. It was only natural that he’d want to see the one we already had.

“Is it okay if he has a look?” I asked Vonnie, hoping she’d agree, even if I needed to explain the rest of the context later. “I think he’s just really excited to be working on this project,” I added, when she looked doubtful.

She scowled a little, but offered the compromise of, “You can look, but not touch.” I didn’t blame her for her caution. Seeing the claws on the Ranzors, it was easy to imagine the damage they could do to a baby, even without meaning any harm.

Rohinavon pushed her skirt aside and opened the pouch at her hip, gently lifting her son out. From behind Borl, there was a collective inhale as the other seven Ranzors all stood transfixed, several of them literally quivering with excitement. Borl himself was shifting from one foot to the other, his fearsome claws digging into the ground as he flexed his toes. The child was tiny and blue, and he wriggled a little, perhaps upset about the cool air. “He is delightful,” Borl said, his tail swishing as he seemed to be fighting for self control. “I would be very happy to help build a house for him.”

Rohinavon softened at that. “He needs to stay in the pouch most of the time to keep warm,” she said, tucking the boy away again. “But I can come and show him to you a couple of times a day, if you’d like that?”

That earned her a little hop from Borl, and more swishing of his tail. “That would be very good,” he said, his eye blinking rapidly.

Well, okay, that introduction had gone better than I’d been expecting, miscommunications aside. I was about to suggest that we head over to the barn when Borl jumped in first.

“Perhaps I have been rude,” Borl said, seeming uncertain about it. “You have not told us how you earned your scars. Commander Hill told us of Rohinavon’s bravery in escaping Vangal, but he told us nothing about you.”

I had to bite my tongue as I reminded myself to stay calm. Hopefully, after a month or two, most of these social missteps would be behind us once we got a handle on each other’s cultures. But in the short term, I was just going to have to bepatient. “Thank you for the offer, but no, I don’t wish to tell you that story.”

“You do not wish to speak of your bravery?” Borl asked, seeming baffled by my refusal.

“No, I don’t,” I said firmly. Cultural differences didn’t mean I was going to be forced to talk about my trauma just to appease them.

“Hm. Captain Rhodes was much the same. He was the human who worked with Goroz, my commanding officer, to secure the treaty between the Alliance and the Ranzors. He had fought a terrifying species in a distant sector, but he did not like to boast of his achievements. He lost a number of his crew in the process, and I have come to understand that in the Alliance, such things make discussing the battle rather taboo.”

It wasn’t abadexplanation of Alliance culture, but it was still missing some important nuances. But for the sake of this conversation, I decided to go with it. “Yes, I lost someone important in my battle,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “So it’s not appropriate to be discussing it now.”

Any of the Alliance species might have seen my flat refusal as rudeness. But Borl merely nodded. There was a pause, and I once again considered trying to get the work moving… but then I suddenly had to rethink that. Borl was making an effort to be polite and take an interest in our lives – for all that his efforts were missing the mark a little. But if I wanted to build respect between us, then perhaps I should return the invitation?

“Before we start on the work,” I said, glancing at the rest of his team, “perhaps each of your soldiers could give us a brief rundown of your own battles and how you earned your scars? I’m sure there’ll be time later for you all to tell your full stories, but I would be interested to hear a short description now.” Was that going to be good enough? Publicising their bravery was apparently an important social ritual for the Ranzors, but at thesame time, letting seven seasoned warriors tell detailed stories of battles would mean we didn’t get anything useful done today. Would Borl see the invitation as appropriate? Or if he didn’t, then would he at least be able to see through my clumsiness to the good intentions behind it?

But thankfully, Borl seemed genuinely pleased with the request. “That is a generous invitation,” he said. “Gatik, you go first. Tell them how you lost your foot.”

The Ranzor with the prosthetic boot stepped forward, holding up his meaty leg for us to see. “A nest of Vaskian swamp snakes was attacking a village in Grozare. That is a forest region in the north of Ronz, our homeworld. There were nine snakes, and they were attacking a class of trainees. They could not defend themselves. I killed two of the snakes, but a third one caught my foot. I killed that one too,” Gatik added, with an air of satisfaction. “But he took my foot as payment for the honour.”

I’d heard rumours of the swamp snakes – mighty beasts that could grow to upwards of eight metres long, and killingoneof them was usually considered a significant feat, never mind three.

“That’s impressive,” I said, not needing to feign any of my awe. Clearly, I had been right in my earlier estimation of this species. Gatik hadn’t seenhaving his foot bitten offas a reason to not finish the battle.

The next Ranzor came forward, this one with no visible scarring, but a noticeable limp. “I am Vorg,” he introduced himself. “I went to Hazharu when the Nwandu attacked the Halagals.” That got my attention. That was a recent war, and one that the Alliance had been heavily involved in. It had been all over the news channels for months. “I fought a mob of Nargars. They are very large. One of them dislocated my hip and snapped the bone. He is dead now, but I only walk with a limp. So I win.”

The rest of the group each took their turns, managing to keep the stories brief. Later, I was sure, there were going to be some late nights as the group regaled whoever would listen with detailed descriptions of every limb severed and every enemy slain, but for now, it seemed that we’d hit a happy medium, honouring their sacrifices while still leaving time for some real work.

“Show us this barn you wish to repair,” Borl said, once the last Ranzor had told his story. “The sooner we have a place to house the pups, the sooner they can arrive.”

Smiling at his eagerness, I led the way across the paddock and through a stand of trees to the old barn. I spent a few minutes showing them the different rooms, the piles where we were storing the various types of rubbish, and the storage room where the tools were kept. “Let me know if you need any more supplies – nails, planks, whatever. There’s a very good local delivery service, so most things can be here within a couple of hours.”

Borl gave the barn as a whole a sweeping once-over. We were standing in the main entrance, and it seemed he was doing some rough calculations in his head. “We will need the planks to repair the floor and walls this afternoon. Tomorrow, you can get your electrician in. Do you have plans for where the rooms are going to go? Or where you want the new walls installed?”

“Not yet, no,” I said. “We only decided we were going to use this building this morning.”

“You will need a designer,” Borl said, stomping one foot in what I assumed was a sign of impatience. I was familiar with a range of gestures and facial expressions for the species that the Alliance dealt with on a regular basis, but I knew almost nothing about the Ranzors’ body language.

“I’ll have to get clearance from the Parliament to start hiring people and buying supplies,” I said. “But you really think you’re going to have the whole thing ready this afternoon?”

Borl stood up straighter and flexed his shoulders. “Ranzors work hard,” he said simply, and I decided to take his word for it.