Chapter 6
Ticklish Negotiations
Admiral Castro had a bemused expression on his face as he hung up the spaceship radio phone and slowly turned to Will and Leslie, "The President is not available at the moment, he's gone duck hunting."
"They do it every year," Will said. "The Supreme Court and Monopoly Owners get together to figure out which cases to hear and outline deals." It's a custom dating back to the late twentieth century in the old United States. They don't actually go duck hunting nowadays."
"It's so corrupt it's sick," Leslie sighed rolling her eyes. "The proper medical term is insatiable want, it's still incurable. Those stricken with insatiable want don't care how many people die to satisfy their cravings. They live with a raging raw fear of falling behind in the oligarch pecking order. The United States is run by certifiably sick dimwits who shackle their own brains to a rat race. They can't see themselves as violent thieves or how absurd they look to anyone who isn't brainwashed."
"The United States is collapsing," Kevin stated flatly.
"That's impossible," Liz said, the signs would be more visible."
"No, that's not so." Kevin responded; "Before instant communication Rome took centuries to crumble away, The Soviet Union was the first information age empire to collapse, and it happened fast. People read about it in the morning news then; Poof! Gone." He snapped his fingers. "The United States is close to that now. Very close."
"We tried to help them while we were there," Leona said. "And almost got ourselves killed for it."
"It was weird," said Kevin, nodding his agreement. "People in the United States of Earth are wage slaves for corporation owners.”
“Use is more than weird,” Will added. "The real catch is humans have social ability to cooperate and react when saber tooth tigers attack but we don't see expert college grad brainwashers who use imaginary propaganda attacks."
Inocente smiled at the word choices of his friends and then grew serious. "The United States of Earth may be so absurd its laughable, even so, it has many weapons and supports dictatorships around the world; the situation is dangerous. How long can the United States hold together?" He looked at Leona and Kevin questioningly. "How long can they afford continuous war?"
"That's not an easy question," Leona replied. "It's a little like trying to predict the weather. The United States is has had a population explosion, only Nigerians are packed in tighter. At first the government brought in waves of immigrants to hold wages down and real estate prices up, then they were brought in simply to be consumers. That's a lot of people to try and figure out.
"Even so, Kevin's work indicates the collapse will happen soon." Leona continued; "That's why our state department hired him to help figure out what was going to happen. We wonder how the collapse will effect Nation Pacifica and want to be prepared."
"It's fortunate we have the world's top experts on the United States Economy with us," the Admiral said, though he was soon to be disappointed, Kevin didn't have more exact answers, either.
"Compare it to Mom doctoring a sick person," Kevin explained. "Although this particular case is more difficult to treat because the patient is forbidden to talk about the illness. It's more like being a veterinarian for a sick animal that can't talk than a doctor for a sick society. One has to search for the symptoms and then figure out how they are related to the underlying sickness. I probably should have studied to be a vet."
"You did a good job sewing up Ballena the whale's injury," Leslie interjected with a smile.
Kevin returned his mother's smile and then his voice grew somber; "Unless the United States adopts energy based money and fully applied standard accounting principles it will go broke sooner rather than later."
"That's about what I figured," the Admiral said. He turned and gazed out to sea before making up his mind. "It looks like we're going to be here for quite awhile. I think we should take Leslie's advice and build a permanent base above flood line. Will and Scott have devised an interesting building, they'll organize us to do the job. I want to offer the submarine crew surface breaks in exchange for labor while we negotiate their release. That will help us gain their allegiance and dramatically speed construction. Even so, we can build what we need alone if the submarine commander blocks my plan."
"Rima, now is a good time to show Mathew how to ride orcas. Go find the delfinians and ask one of them to tell the submarine to surface after dark. When you finish there, help organize a work space for Kevin and Leona so they can begin work on energy based money for Use, we can't let a billion people starve. We already know their population will gradually decline once austerity is reversed and they become happier. Ecological energy based money will give the United States a big boost." He turned and started for the trail to the river meadow before concluding; "The rest of us will be gathering building materials. This will be very fun... Totally fun."
Will and Leslie followed after Inocente. "What about President Bushleeg?" Leslie asked as she hurried to catch up with him.
He stopped mid-stride and slapped his forehead in exaggerated exasperation. "I knew I was forgetting something," he said. "Rima, when Bushleeg calls, tell him we'll trade two smaller missile subs for the new big one. He can remove the guidance systems out of the missile loads but they are to be fully armed."
That stopped everybody. "What do we want with a bunch of atom bombs, Grandpa?" Rima asked looking around at everyone else. The expressions on their faces showed they were as amazed as she.
Admiral Castro grinned, "I may have invented a new public disposal service, there's still some kinks to work out. Tell Eddy to meet us at the river meadow." He then turned and walked jauntily away with a skip and a spring in his step that left everyone wanting to know more.
Mathew didn't waste a moment, he started toward the cove, he'd been dreaming of riding an orca. "Let's go, Rima," he cried, running spread-armed and leaping over a fallen tree, toward the beach, his unbuttoned shirt flying like a cape behind him. He stopped and turned, beckoning Rima to hurry. She grinned and ran after him. Remo saw them and sped toward shore accompanied by several orcas and dolphins. Mathew reached the water line first and watched the cetaceans approaching.
"What a thrill," he said when Rima reached the water. She stood next to Mathew shading her eyes with one hand and waving to Remo with the other. "How do you ride them?" He asked. Are you sure this is safe? What am I talking about? Of course you’re sure. Right?"
Rima smiled at Mathew's excited babbling and handed him a translation collar, she put on hers so he could see how it fit. Then she ran into the water, splashing just past knee-deep where Remo had stopped. She jumped onto his back and then climbed to her feet, placing one hand on Remo's fin. "Remo, please meet Mathew," she introduced, "Mathew, this is Remo." Then she told Remo that they would like to ride awhile for fun, find the delfinians, and then go out to the submarine.
"That all sounds fun," Remo answered, slowly backing to deeper water.
Remo and Rima circled to the other orcas, who were waiting further out, one of whom swam in for Mathew.
"Greetings, Mathew. I am Ranger. I will take you to find the delfinians."
Mathew had already waded into the water. He jumped on Ranger's back and stood up as Rima did. "Thanks, Ranger. I'm ready."
Ranger swam slowly to join up with Remo and Rima. They all accelerated out into the surfing cove together. Mathew let out a hoot of excitement and Ranger put on a burst of speed. The two orcas swam toward the surfing point going faster and faster, while the dolphins leaped playfully alongside.
Mathew soon discovered that Ranger could tell exactly how secure he felt and would turn to match the pressure of his feet. The orcas were skimming over the small approaching swells as they reached the surfing point, where they stopped to watch Cecric ride a wave toward them. Mathew's heart leaped when he saw that the delfinian's physical beauty and swimming power was equal to dolphins and orcas. Everyone raced to the submarine after they had ridden a few waves and Rima explained what the Admiral wanted them to do.
Mathew saw Rima lightly press Remo's dorsal fin and lean forward as the two of them surged into the lead. He copied her move and Ranger matched their speed, delfinians easily kept up. The tight packed racers slid into an arcing turn and stopped directly above the submarine. Rima relayed the Admiral's message and Perko dove to tap it on the hull.
"Can I hold your fin and ride down?" Mathew asked.
"Thump my back when you want to go up," Ranger replied. They dove as soon as Mathew laid down and took a breath.
It was deeper than Mathew thought but he wasn't frightened. He made himself streamlined through the water and held on as Ranger swam the length of the submarine. Mathew tapped and Ranger swam to the surface.
"Did you see it?" Rima asked wide-eyed. "You're the first among us to go underwater riding a cetacean."
"It was easy," Mathew replied. "Lay flat and grip with one arm and your legs. Ranger told me to tap him once when I wanted to go up."
"I'm a her," Ranger said with a low-tone chuckle Mathew felt tingle on his skin.
"Oh. Sorry."
"Do you want to see the submarine underwater, too?" Remo asked Rima, who promptly laid down on his back as Mathew suggested. Remo dove gently for the bottom when Rima softly tapped his back, twice.
Mathew noticed Rima's double pat, took a breath, and tapped twice. Ranger immediately dove to catch Remo and Rima. Two orcas, four delfinians, two humans, and a troop of dolphins looped over and around each other in a braided underwater ballet along the length of the submarine.
"It's beautiful!" Rima cried when they surfaced for a breath.
"You think the sub is beautiful?" Mathew asked, laughing.
"The scenery, doofus," Rima smiled at Mathew's sense of humor. "The colors, the fish, and the plants," she said, and then pointed. Grace and Leona were surfing, Kevin was walking to the water with his surfboard under one arm. "Let's go watch them for awhile."
"You can watch if you want," Perko called over his shoulder. "I'm going surfing, too."
They all raced back to the surfing point. Mathew was completely stoked to have become part of the pioneer crew. The warm wind and spray of their speed tingled on his skin and rang into thought, "This is life. It's meant to be fun." He watched the waves, wondered about all the pioneers and what his magic brother had figured out with Kevin's and Grace's dad, Will. He quit thinking as he adjusted his stance to take off on a strong, fairly large pacific ocean wave. He was riding on and with Ranger, two people double thrilled surfing together.
Scott was at that moment huddled over some drawings with the Admiral and Will.
"This would be the neatest office I've ever had," the Admiral said with admiration. "You're an artist, Scott."
"Thanks, Inocente," Scott responded. "People often say I'm a frustrated sculptor. I tell them I'm not a frustrated sculptor, I already am a sculptor because this kind of construction is sculpture." He paused for a moment and looked the Admiral in the eyes.
"The only frustration I have as a sculptor is listening to people who think all artists have to be trained in college. I've actually grown to mistrust people who call themselves artists. I wish there was another word for sculpture so I could describe what I do with words artists don't use."
"Do I detect a touch of bitterness there?" Will asked, smiling.
"No way. You've known me all my life, Will. You know better than that; I'm not bitter. I've made so much stuff I was too busy to finish college. Well, maybe I'm a little frustrated by people who think I'm a tad limited because of I didn't finish college. Sorry. The word art gets me going sometimes. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, you can still finish college anytime, if you want to," the Admiral said leaning down and pointing at the drawing. "Though I think I see your same problem continuing right here and now at this very moment. This little office building is more important than college. Has that been your problem? One neat project after another?"
"That's about the size of it," Scott sighed, though his eyes were sparkling along with the admiral's in anticipation.
"We should design it so everyone has room to work, and put a kitchen on the back. What about building materials? I looks to me that we need more than what you two have dreamed up for the basic structure," Inocente mused.
"How about a shopping trip with the bigger spaceship?" Will mused in turn. "Do you suppose you could work that into your negotiations with President Bushleeg?"
"We'll find the building materials whether he likes it or not," the Admiral replied. "Make a shopping list. We can use the money in my Nation Pacifica retirement account, I haven't taken a penny out of it in over three years."
"Great! Scott exclaimed. "We've already made a list. After yesterday's test, we should start on the floor now."
It didn't take long to scrape weeds and level an area to match the floor plan. Scott scratched the shape with a stick and paced the size, he didn't measure anything. Kevin went to the spaceship to tell Eddy and Liz they were ready. It was a short walk but he had time to marvel at how much Scott had accomplished so quickly.
The first day he arrived, Scott had crouched to his knees and examined where they had bored holes to set the steel anchor rods for holding the spaceships during the typhoon. He had whistled softly to himself and thoughtfully rubbed at the ground next to the bent over steel with a fist-sized rock.
"Look at this," Scott had pointed out. "Next to where the joy beam made the hole there's a little mound of stuff that full of air bubbles. It's like plastic foam but it's rock, and it polishes nicely with this piece of stone.
"There are some tough grass stalks stuck in the outer edge," he said, lowering himself further, looking closely at what no one else had noticed. "The grass stalks aren't burned."
Scott had stayed on his hands and knees peering at different pieces of embedded grass and twigs and prattled on about mud and waddle being an ancient technique of building homes with clay and sticks. "I've seen places where young families still start their lives together in mud and stick houses perched on hillsides in paradise. It's very romantic. The young newlyweds don't need money to build a house," he had spoken more to himself than to anyone else, as most of the pioneers gathered to peer over his shoulder and see what he was looking at.
Scott and Will remained rooted to the spot, on hands and knees, long after everyone else had gone to do other things. The two of them had been huddling together and drawing pictures ever since.
Kevin realized it was only yesterday his Father and Scott had used two steel rods to hold a wicker basket in front of the spaceship joy beam. Scott had thrown handfulls of sand at the basket with one hand and squirted it with a fine water spray with the other. They had kept at it until the entire basket was covered with a thin layer of what Scott called, "foam-stone."
Scott and Will had invited everyone to jump on the basket and try to break it; no-one had succeeded. Scott finally broke it after repeated blows with a tree branch he swung like sledge hammer. Mathew had then run to his brother and hugged him. "Congratulations, Scotto," he had said proudly. "You've actually beaten swords into plowshares."
"Scott had smiled broadly, "At least we know how strong foam-stone is."
Kevin reached the spaceship ramp, he walked into the ship to tell Eddy and Liz the news. "The plan is to foam the bare ground, put a grid of bamboo on that, and then cover the bamboo with sand for a second layer of foam-stone."
Liz wanted to fly the ship so she could have more practice with precision flying, which was fine with Eddy. "How will we make it smooth?" He asked.
Mathew found a big flat boulder the ship can set on the floor and drag around to grind down any high spots." Kevin responded. "The plan is to sprinkle sand on it so people walking around during construction will polish it as they work. Then some floor wax and call it done."
"How will the walls attach to the floor?" Liz asked.
Kevin shrugged, "We'll either have to work on that part or wait and see."
"Sounds like fun," Liz said as she deftly took off and hovered the ship over the floor area, which Scott and Will had marked with white shells.
"You're becoming very good at flying this thing, Liz," Kevin commented.
"I've been practicing as much as I can," she answered with her eyes glued on Scott, who was waving his arms to show her where to position the ship. She flipped the switch to turn on the joy beam when Will signaled for it. Scott was dipping a broom in a bucket of water and flicking drops into the path of the beam, which was turned all the way down and set to wide focus. They could barely see Scott and Will waving their arms and dashing around the edges of a hissing steam cloud.
Liz was starting to sweat when Will signaled her to quit. Though it had taken only a few minutes to do the entire floor area, she had to concentrate fully in order to fit the ship between trees at the meadow edge, while, at the same time, struggle not to barbecue Scott and Will, who had occasionally become so excited excited they ran in close to inspect her work.
Liz set the ship back down in its parking spot and they all gathered to see how the floor looked. Scott and Will were on there hands and knees scratching at the floor with sharp metal, every one else was content to walk or try to stomp holes in it.
"Good job, Liz," Scott said. "This is high quality foam-stone." He spoke so seriously it made Liz laugh.
"What's so funny?" Scott asked glancing momentarily at Liz before turning back to inspecting the job.
Foam-stone sounds like a product name," she giggled. "Kevin was saying it earlier."
"You'll see when the building is done," Scott said. "Foam-stone will change things around here. We're all going to sculpt a beautiful pioneer base that won't rust, rot, burn, or blow away in a typhoon."
That gave everyone pause to think; though their feet felt stone, their minds knew it as foam.
Leslie rang the dinner bell at that moment and Scott jumped to his feet. He and Will shook hands and walked to the tables set under a roof made from torn sailboat sails. Leslie and Mathew had prepared a steaming shellfish stew which filled the air with the tantalizing scents of a delicious meal.
"What are we going to do about feeding the sailors when they come ashore to help?" Rima asked pushing her plate back and patting her stomach in contentment. "This is delicious and not much trouble to make, but feeding a work crew could become a full time job."
The Admiral piled on a second helping and turned to his granddaughter. "The sailors will bring their lunches and eat breakfast and dinner on the submarine," he said.
"Do you think the sub commander will allow work crews ashore?" Mathew asked.
"I'd like that to be your job, Mathew. If you accept it, I want you to be our temporary ambassador to Earth. You handle all negotiations. Things are going to be hectic around here and I need to concentrate on being an admiral."
"I don't know if I can do it, Inocente. I'm not the greatest businessman."
Scott reached across Will's shoulders and slapped Mathew on the back. "You can do it, Bro," he said with an encouraging smile.
Mathew was silent, he let his eyes wander to the darkening tree line at the meadow edge and looked up at the first star of the night. "Are you saying you want me to ride Ranger out to the submarine and talk to the sub commander about sending us a work crew?" he asked incredulously.
"You have the idea," the Admiral responded. "Keep in mind the crew might mutiny if the sub commander keeps them inside after you offer shore leave in exchange for work. I think you will do fine with President Bushleeg as well."
Mathew choked on the food he was eating. Scott slapped him on the back again, laughing this time.
"You'll need to use your best manners when you attend banquets at the Use capital, dear," Leslie smiled sweetly at Mathew as she spoke, her tone was halfway between serious and teasing, Mathew wasn't sure which. "You won't want to spit food down the front of your tuxedo when your dining with all those important people."
"Me?" Mathew asked, wide-eyed. He realized Leslie had been teasing him and pretended he was horrified to be wiping food from the front of his shirt. "Hey! I'm just a hick from Port Santa Barbara. Sure, it was a fancy town back before sea level rose, but that was way before I was even born.
"Now everyone laughs at us because we are country folk from a fishing village at the dead-end of the highway and a railroad spur going north to the capitol."
"It doesn't matter where you're from, that's not why I picked you," Leslie answered, growing more serious and leaning forward on the table, toward Mathew. "I've known you since you were barely old enough to tag along with your big brother, Scott, and my son, Kevin.
"When you boys made mischief it was always you who explained so clearly why none of you should be in trouble or disciplined. As a mother, I've had to match wits with you. President Bushleeg and his crew of nitwits are going to be sorry for their evil ways when you finish with them."
Mathew looked into Leslie's unblinking eyes, a grin slowly spread on his face, "Do you really think so?"
"Yes, dear. You're quite grown-up enough to give President Bushleeg a colossal pain in the neck. Don't worry, you won't be alone, we'll always be only a phone call away."
Mathew's eyes flashed, he thought how proud his mother would be if she were alive. "Thanks, Mom," he said quietly to Leslie, who looked long and deep into Mathew's eyes, then shed a tear of her own.
Scott stood and held his water glass high, "I propose a toast to our new ambassador and wish him well on his new assignments."
Everyone cheered for Mathew and enthusiastically wished him good luck. All faces gradually turned to the Admiral as the congratulations lowered to a murmur, and then silence.
The Admiral had been quietly questioning Kevin and Leona about their plans for a new kind of money when he became aware of the silence. He knew full well he was something like a grandfather to everyone at the table, he also knew he was their admiral in charge. Inocente slid his chair back from the table and became the leader he wished for in his own heart.
"Mathew," he began, "Now you know why I asked Rima to show you how to ride with the orcas... Yes." He answered Mathew's surprised expression, "Leslie told me earlier that you would make an excellent ambassador and negotiator."
The Admiral held up his hand to stop Mathew from interrupting. "I have also heard about the weapons you and Scott helped to distribute throughout the land. They are part of the reason I want you back on the continent for awhile. You must make sure those weapons are not used, unless I send the order. Can you do that?"
"I can try, Admiral. We distributed the weapons for self-defense, there's no organized plan."
"I knew that," the Admiral responded. "My main worry is the power-line cutting gizmos. Those might create panic and cause Use to collapse before we are ready."
"Well, that's easier, we actually know who has those launchers because they are all people visiting relatives in Use. It took some record keeping effort to find people with relatives in the right places."
"That's a relief, so do your best. Next, you will travel as our ambassador to the desert lands of native americans, to inform them about what is going on. They should do everything they can to slow the HUNTA tanks with Scott's cable slinger invention. Take them as many more anti-tank slingers as you can find. Tell the braves to stay hidden in the rocky passes and ambush without endangering themselves."
Scott had been sitting quietly while the Admiral instructed Mathew to bring control over the weapons he, Scott, had invented. The inventions had popped unbidden into his head on a day he was feeling extra angry that the United States was invading his already free country and calling the invasion, "Operation Freethem." He squirmed in his chair a moment and then decided he should speak up.
"The Hopi Nation has been asking the United Nations to send troops to protect them from the United States Government for a long time now," he said, recognizing the Admiral wasn't angry with his brother but wanting to change the subject slightly.
"That's true," the Admiral responded turning his attention to Scott. "As a matter of fact, I've just put two and two together and believe the great man who did that was an ancestor of one of us here tonight. Am I right, Leona?"
"Yes." Leona answered. "My ancestor, Thomas Banyacya went four times to what an ancient legend called, 'the House of Mica.'
"It was there he made all four pleas for protection from the United States. At the time, he did not realize he was living out the ancient legend about a man who would go to the house of mica only to be shunned three times before finally being heard on the fourth. The United Nations agreed to send peace keepers to protect the Hopi from the United States but never did, it didn't have a big enough army."
"What is the house of mica?" Liz asked, with keen interest.
"The Hopi used thin sheets of mica for windows in their houses. One cannot not see through mica windows but they let in enough light to make comfortable living inside. The old United Nations Building, the one built before sea level rose, was almost all windows; the house of mica turned out to be a building of glass."
"Your ancestor went to the United Nations three times and nobody would listen until he returned a fourth time?"
"Yes. It was prophesied that this would happen in a legend thousands of years old. He did not realize he was living the ancient legend until others traveled and saw the United Nations Building."
"That's quite a story," Will said. "I knew your grandparents and have also heard the legend."
"The ancient legends did not foretell that Use would assassinate my grandparents, even so, native americans know the story.” Leona said. “I'm sure there are many braves who will enjoy entangling million dollar weapons of mass destruction with junk yard cable throwing gizmos."
The Admiral looked at Scott with a mischievous grin, "I'm actually quite pleased to know the strongest military nation in the world is about to become helplessly entangled by weapons made from junk yard parts. The problem is that it might trigger a bigger war. Mathew will hopefully reign in that risk, and if the native americans hunt and slow down HUNTA without getting themselves hurt, so much the better. Maybe a few helicopters can be tangled in cables before they take-off, that would also be a great help."
"It's dark now," Mathew pointed out. "I should go talk to the submarine commander." He stood up from the table and looked hesitantly at the Admiral. "Should I tell him I am the officially appointed ambassador?"
"Yep, you're the ambassador. The delfinians are waiting to escort you to the submarine. Don't forget to put on your translation collar before you go."
Mathew walked along the starlit path wondering how this had happened to him. He liked the faith his friends had shown in him but the job seemed too important for someone without any negotiating experience at all.
"Why the glum looks and slouch?" Perko called out as Mathew approached the water.
"I've been appointed as chief pioneer negotiator and I'm not so sure I can do it," Mathew replied.
"Don't worry about it," Cecric said. "The worse the submarine commander can do is refuse."
"You're right," Mathew responded. "It can't hurt anything to try. Is Ranger nearby?"
"Right here," Ranger's voice floated out of the darkness.
Mathew saw a dark shadow approaching through the phosphorescent white-water of small waves and waded into the water. Ranger turned parallel to shore and Mathew jumped on her back. They turned outward and zoomed toward the submarine, which was an easily visible blackness in the starlight. Silhouettes of people became visible as they drew near. Ranger felt Mathew's stance become stable as she turned tightly, drew alongside the submarine, and stopped with a dramatic flourish of powerful spray against the ship hull.
Ambassador Mathew here to speak with Commander Gray, "Mathew called out. "I seek permission to come aboard," He added figuring he might as well see the brand-new nuclear submarine if he could.
"Permission granted," Commander Gray called back and signaled a rope toss to Mathew, who walked and pulled hand over hand up the rounded hull. When Mathew reached the level area he found himself standing face to face with Commander Gray, who was dressed in an immaculate tropical uniform. Mathew stood in wet short pants with his bare feet in an expanding puddle, his dress didn't bother him in the least but he saw a sneer of irritation flash across Commander Gray's face.
"You're the pioneer ambassador? Where's the Admiral?"
"Our pace of operation has quickened," Mathew replied softly. "the Admiral has assigned certain duties to me so that he may concentrate his energies on averting enormous human tragedies." Mathew bowed graciously to Commander Gray. "I assure you that my presence at this meeting does not imply he feels you are less important. Please try to understand that there has been tremendous typhoon damage and that tens of thousands of ocean people have joined with the pioneers. These two points alone represent huge responsibilities he has taken on. My reason for being here is quite a small matter in comparison."
Commander Gray was impressed. Though Mathew was easily fifteen years his junior, Commander Gray already knew the young ambassador had skills that came naturally, 'a little polish from practice is all this young ambassador needs to become dangerous,' he mused, silently. "I'm not offended," he said. "What does the Admiral want?"
"Admiral Castro wants nothing," Mathew answered, shrewdly sensing that the submarine commander's word choices should be carefully noticed. "He sees an opportunity which will benefit all of us, that's what good admirals do. He sent me over to mention it for you consideration."
"Well, what is it you're working so hard to casually mention? You don't really want it?"
"Am I really presenting that picture?" Mathew asked, innocently, deciding he would delay a moment or two and change the subject to his inexperience with negotiating. "Gosh. I have to talk with President Bushleeg next. If I can't do any better with him, we'll never get you home."
"You're going to negotiate my ship's release with Bushleeg? That's ridiculous. He'll twist everything you say into a pretzel. My ship will sit here for ever. My crew will go stir crazy before that idiot makes up his mind about anything."
"You know President Bushleeg?" Mathew asked, storing the idea of a stir crazy crew for later.
"We married sisters; his wife is my wife's sister."
"Oh, I see," Mathew said wondering how this might work into the negotiations. "It's your crew's peace of mind that brings me here, by the way. We're prepared to offer rotating shore leave."
The sub commander looked out into the darkness for a moment before turning back to Mathew. "Would I be correct to assume you will exchange shore leave for work?"
"That's the idea," Mathew responded. "A work crew comes ashore after breakfast and brings their lunch. They return in time for dinner on the sub." Mathew could not know the extreme seriousness of morale problems the commander was dealing with, though the quickness of acceptance proved a good indicator.
"I'll agree," Commander Gray said, contemplating a first mate who clearly had mutiny on her mind, and she was at this moment alone with the crew. The commander once again removed his grip from the pistol in his pocket before reaching to shake hands with a rebel. "But only with the condition that I be included in the first crew.” He continued, “I wish to see how my crew will be treated."
Mathew shook hands with the commander, he couldn't be certain in the dim light but he thought he saw a hint of a smile on Commander Gray's face. He wondered if it was happy or sinister, it was a bit too dark to decipher.
"I'm assuming we'll be transported to shore by whales," the commander said.
Mathew actually laughed, he turned into the darkness and asked the ocean people if they were willing to carry work crews back and forth from the submarine to the island. Commander Gray easily understood their enthusiastic and positive response, no need for a translation collar. There was no mistaking the broad grin on his face as he reached to shake Mathew's hand again.
"Good negotiating job, Mathew. What is your position going to be with President Bushleeg?"
"We want to trade your big submarine for two smaller ones, after removing your cargo of atom bomb missiles. The smaller subs are to have a full cargo of missiles with their guidance systems removed but with the atomic bombs still loaded in the missiles."
Commander Gray whistled quietly. "What does Admiral Castro want with all those atom bombs?"
"I'm not sure, Commander. The delfinians won't have it any other way."
"Hmm. Perhaps we should walk to the stern where it slopes down to the water. I want to have a talk with the delfinians before you talk with Bushleeg," Commander Gray said, walking toward the stern without looking back.
Mathew called out to the delfinians to meet them at the rear of the ship, where it was possible to stand closer to the water. He then ran to catch up with Commander Gray. Cecric was handing the commander a translation collar as Mathew reached the stern.
"This young man tells me you delfinians won't let my ship leave until the atomic bombs and missiles are removed." The commander said. "Why is that? What are you going to do with the missiles?"
"We will dispose of the awful things properly," Perko answered.
"How will you do that?"
"The Admiral and President Sudor have that responsibility," Cecric said. "Ours is to be sure all weapons of mass destruction are taken out of circulation as quickly as possible, that's why we are holding your submarine."
"What do you care? This isn't even your planet."
"We are concerned about the cetaceans, plus, we are moving half our population here and do not wish to live with people who have weapons of mass destruction to terrorize innocent people into submission. Our ancestors already went through the cultural phase you are in and we simply know better than to trust anyone with such weapons as atomic bombs, especially those who claim they are using them for peace."
Commander Gray chuckled and then turned to Mathew. "I figure you at zero chance with this kind of negotiation. We are mortal enemies but I wish you good luck. I'll see you all in the morning. Goodnight."