Von Ribbentrop sat straight again and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the material of the outer cloth covering of his torso. “He is smug,” Uotat said to Atvar, using an eye turret to point to the Deutsch envoy.
“He is a fool,” Atvar replied, “but you need not tell him that; if you are a fool, you derive no profit from hearing as much. I now resume with the matter at hand… Because we are gracious, we also agree to withdraw our males from the northern territory that seems to be not quite a part of either the U.S.A. or Britain.”
The toponym escaped him; Marshall and Eden supplied it together. “Canada.”
“Canada, yes,” Atvar said. The simple truth was that most of the place was too cold to be worth much to the Race under any circumstances. Marshall also seemed to think it was for all practical purposes part of the U.S.A., though it had a separate sovereignty. Atvar did not fully understand that, but it was to him a matter of small import.
“Now to the issue on which these talks paused in our last session,” Atvar said: “the issue of Poland.”
“Poland in its entirety must be ours!” von Ribbentrop said loudly. “No other solution is possible or acceptable. So theFuhrer has declared.” (Uotat added, “This is the title of the Deutsch not-emperor.” “I know,” Atvar answered.) “I have no room whatever for discussion on this matter.”
Molotov spoke. He was the only Tosevite envoy who did not use English. His interpreter translated for Uotat: “This view is unacceptable to the workers and farmers of the SSSR, who have an immediate claim on the eastern half of this region, one which I personally brokered with the Deutsch foreign minister, and also a historic claim to the entire country.”
Atvar turned his eye turrets away from both contentious Big Uglies. Neither of them would budge on the issue. Atvar tried a new tack: “Perhaps we could let the Poles and the Jews of Poland form new not-empires of their own, between those of your not-emperors.”
Molotov did not reply. Von Ribbentrop, unfortunately, did: “As I have said, theFuhrer finds this intolerable. The answer is no.”
The fleetlord wanted to let loose with a long, hissing sigh, but refrained. The Big Uglies were undoubtedly studying his behavior as closely as he and his staff of researchers and psychologists were examining theirs. He tried a different course: “Perhaps, then, it is appropriate for the Race to remain sovereign over this place called Poland.” In saying that, he realized he was meeting the ambitions of the Tosevite Moishe Russie. It wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he saw now that Russie did indeed understand his fellow Big Uglies.
“This may in principle be acceptable to the Soviet Union, depending on the precise boundaries of said occupation,” Molotov said. In a low voice, Uotat added his own comment to that: “The Tosevites of the SSSR find the Deutsche no more pleasant neighbors than we do.”
“Truth,” Atvar said, amused but unwilling to show it to the Big Uglies.
Von Ribbentrop turned his head and looked at Molotov for several seconds before giving his attention back to Atvar. If that wasn’t anger the Deutsch representative was displaying, all the Race’s studies of Tosevite gestural language were worthless. But von Ribbentrop spoke without undue passion: “I am sorry to have to keep repeating myself, but this is not acceptable to Deutschland or to theFuhrer. Poland had been under and should return in its entirety to Deutsch sovereignty.”
“That is not acceptable to the Soviet Union,” Molotov said.
“The Soviet Union had control over not a particle of Polish soil at the time when-the situation changed,” von Ribbentrop retorted. He turned back to Atvar. “Poland must be returned to Deutschland. TheFuhrer has made it absolutely clear he will accept nothing less, and warns of the severest consequences if his just demands are not met.”
“Does he threaten the Race?” Atvar asked. The Deutsch envoy did not reply. Atvar went on, “You Deutsche should remember that you hold the smallest amount of territory of any party to these talks. It is conceivable that we could destroy you without wrecking the planet Tosev 3 to the point where it would be unsuitable for the colonization fleet when it arrives. Your intransigence here is liable to tempt us to make the experiment.”
That was partly bluff. The Race did not have the nuclear weapons available to turn all Deutsch-controlled territory to radioactive slag, however delightful the prospect was. The Big Uglies, however, did not know what resources the Race had and what it did not.
Atvar hoped, then, his threat would strike home. Marshall and Togo bent over the papers in front of them and both began to write furiously. The fleetlord thought that might represent agitation. Eden and Molotov sat unmoving. Atvar was used to that from Molotov. This was his first prolonged dealing with Eden, who struck him as competent but who was also in a weak bargaining position.
Von Ribbentrop said, “Then the war may resume, Fleetlord. When theFuhrer states his determination in regard to any issue, you may take it as certain that he means what he says. Am I to inform him that you flatly reject his reasonable requirement? If I do so, I warn you that I cannot answer for what will happen next.”
His short, blunt-tipped tongue came out and moistened the everted mucus membranes that ringed his small mouth. That was, the Race’s researchers insisted, a sign of nervousness among the Big Uglies. But why was von Ribbentrop nervous? Because he was running a bluff himself, at the orders of his not-emperor? Or because he feared the Deutsch leader really would resume the war if his insistence on having Poland was rejected?
Atvar picked his words with more care than he would have imagined possible when speaking to a Tosevite: “Tell this male that his demand for all of Poland is refused. Tell him further that, as far as the Race is concerned, the cease-fire between our forces and those of the Deutsche may continue while we address other issues. And tell him that. If the Deutsche are the first to break the cease-fire, the Race will retaliate forcefully. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Fleetlord, I understand,” von Ribbentrop replied through Uotat. “As I have said, theFuhrer is not in the habit of making threats he does not mean. I shall convey your response to him. Then we shall all await his reply.” The Big Ugly licked those soft, pink lips again. “I am sorry to say it, but I do not think we will be waiting long.”
Major Mon handed Nieh Ho-T’ing a cup filled with gently steaming tea. “Thank you,” Nieh said, inclining his head. The Japanese was, by his standards, acting courteously. Nieh still thought of him as an imperialist eastern devil, but one could be polite about such things.
Mori returned the half bow. “I am unworthy of your praise,” he answered in his rough Chinese. The Japanese hid their arrogance behind a facade of false humility. Nieh preferred dealing with the little scaly devils. They made no bones about what they were.
“Have you decided which course would be most expedient for you to take?” Nieh asked. Looking around the Japanese camp, he thought that should be obvious. The eastern devils were ragged and hungry and starting to run low on the munitions that were their only means of coercing supplies from the local peasants. The arrival of the little scaly devils had cut them off from the logistics train that ran back to Japan. They were better disciplined than a band of bandits, but not much stronger.
But after their major nodded, he did not give the reply Nieh had hoped to hear: “I must tell you we cannot join what you call the popular front. The little devils do not formally stop their war against us, but they also do not fight us now. If we attack them here, who can say what that will provoke them to elsewhere in the world?”