Luke felt better knowing that Liam had good friends in his corner, even if Luke had spent most of his life condemning his brother. “Do you want to go get my mother’s datachip or do you want to go back to your place and look through your research?”
“Why don’t you come to my place,” Spooner said. “I need to stop and pick up some alcohol before we go there.” Maybe Luke let his confusion show because Spooner added, “You’ll need it before we’re done, but remember. If Rownt rip a head off someone’s neck, it leads to diplomatic immunity warnings. You and I would go to prison.”
Luke had no words, especially since he didn’t know what he might see in those records. Clearly, Liam had been hurt far more than Luke had understood. Maybe their mother hadn’t even known the full story. But now Luke felt as if he had an obligation to get to know his brother. He wanted to know the sort of man who could inspire such loyalty.
Introduction to Xenolinguistics
Debbie studied thesea of fresh-faced neophytes. For a time, she panned the vid so her office screen would show her class. She could already divide them into rough camps based on their seat choices and expressions. Proxemics, oculesics, and kinesics weren’t covered until much later in their training, so right now they exerted absolutely no control over how their bodies were shouting without even using words.
The three young men and two women in front were either serious students or wanted to present themselves as serious students. They were busy with their tablets, and Debbie’s monitoring program reported that all five were reviewing the class text. A small group near the window chatted away, their bodies twitching with sexual interest. There was nothing wrong with that as long as they focused on the work once Debbie started the lecture.
A range of less confident students filled the middle section. Debbie groaned when she saw that two of them were readingLost Words: The Unauthorized Biography of Lieutenant Liam Munson. That piece sensationalized Munson’s life—made him out to be some poor wounded soul abandoned by the system and abused by the authorities.
Debbie had no idea how anyone could fall for that crap. Munson was a linguistic genius who had made the rare leap out of his culturally enforced point of view into the Rownt perspective. Advances in translation could only be made after someone had navigated that chasm, and to reduce Munson’s contribution to luck and some lost puppy personality was incredibly offensive. The man had studied Rownt language before taking the post on Prarownt, and had then spent years working to collect language samples and form relationships with natives.
His willingness to immerse himself in a new culture opened opportunities for the entire human race. The populace might’ve been fascinated with the Rownt because of a few vid shots of a female visiting a hospital and the young male trying to protect Lieutenant Munson in a crowd. However, those involved in Command were more interested in the technology and raw materials the Rownt could provide. They were certainly better potential allies than the Anla. And Munson had made all that possible.
She made a note of which students were reading that trash in her classroom. They would have to show much more dedication to linguistics if they wanted to follow in Munson’s footsteps. Assuming that an alien species would feel sorry for someone and take him home was stupid. And Debbie did not like wasting her time on stupid students.
She turned her monitor off and sighed. It was time for one more semester of teaching people who could never hope to achieve the linguistic genius of Colonel Diallo or Lieutenant Munson. Sometimes she regretted ever becoming a teacher. However, someone had to set the next generation of linguists on the path, and that was her responsibility.
