Battlefield Earth

Jo

Mr. Tsung made the Coordinator stand right there and translate everything he said exactly with no changes. Mr. Tsung hunkered down close to the side of the bed and started talking. The Coordinator translated at each pause.

It is one thing, translated the Scot, " 'to be a mighty warrior...but although you have won every battle...and driven the enemy to rout...from a field of slaughter...the entire war...can be lost...at the conference table!' "

Jo

“Your attitude, the Coordinator continued to translate as the little Mr. Tsung spoke on, " '...must be calculated to impress.... A lord is used to handling inferiors.... He is impressed by being handled as an inferior.... Be

haughty.... Do not be polite.... Be cold and disdainful.... Be distant and aloof.'

“Say, this old man is really wringing out my Mandarin. That's real court Chinese he's talking!”

Mr. Tsung motioned him not to add his own comments.

Do not, the Scot obediently translated, " 'agree or seem to agree to anything.... Your words can be tricked into seeming to agree...so avoid the word: yes.... They will make preposterous demands they know they ca

The Scot paused. “He wants to know if you've got all that.”

“Yes, sir!” said Jo

He was feeling this was useful even though it didn't give him the idea he needed.

“And now,” said the Coordinator, “he wants to give you lessons in deportment. Watch him.”

Well, they were dealing with creatures from many another race, and their ideas of deportment and those from ancient imperial China might not agree at all. So Jo

How to stand. Feet apart, tall, leaning slightly back. Firmly fixed to the earth. Position eminent. Got that?

Then do it!

How to hold a scepter or wand. One hand on grip end, other end laid in the other palm. Grip both ends to show control. Tap one end into palm to hint the small possibility of punishment when one might wish to seem a bit offended. Wave idly in air to show that the other's argument was of no consequence and was like the wind. Got that? Here is a wand. Do it! Not quite right. Be easy, lordly. Now do them all again.

Walk as though not caring what lies before you. Suggest power. Steady, unstoppable. Like this. Got it? Do it!

For half an hour Mr. Tsung worked on Jo

Mr. Tsung made him go through the whole lesson and then the postures and walks again before he was satisfied. Jo

He thought he was all through. He could see on the screen that more and more emissaries were arriving. But Mr. Tsung said they would all have to present their credentials at the first meeting in the conference room and that there was lots and lots of time. Had Jo

Meanwhile, they had to handle this other matter, and leaving Jo

Seeing that for the moment Jo

Jo

That shot had worked. He wasn't dizzy.

Chapter 6

The “other matter” turned out to be a haircut. The daughter came in and sat him in a chair facing the viewscreens and got to work with a small pair of scissors and a comb. The idea was rather novel to Jo

She seemed to be very practiced and expert and no doubt took care of the tonsorial requirements of many, for she just sailed in with her scissors moving so fast they sounded like an ore belt ru

So diplomacy was like a battle, Jo

And what chance did he and Sir Robert have against these experienced diplomats? They were both warriors, not glib, smooth, cu

The girl had a small mirror she was holding up so he could see. She had cut his hair to collar height in back and combed and rolled it at the bottom. It looked kind of like a helmet he had seen with a back neck guard. And the hair was shiny. His beard and mustache looked very precise, much shorter. He hardly knew himself– had she seen some old paintings of men with beards and mustaches cut like this? Indeed she had– there was an ancient man-book, English, open on the bed to a picture of somebody named “Sir Francis Drake” that had defeated somebody called “the Spaniards” long, long ago.

His attention was attracted by something and he took the mirror from her. His neck! The scars had been quite faint for they were really callouses. And they were gone.

He had to look very hard to see the remains of the Brigante grenade scar on his cheek. That would probably vanish too.

Somehow he felt freed with the collar scars gone. He understood the irony of it and would have smiled but his attention was pulled to the ops room screen. The sound relay had been off and he gave the girl back the mirror and hit the button.