The V'Dan (13 page)

That earned her a few chuckles.

Dipping her head in acknowledgment, Jackie continued. “. . . And one looks like a nightmare, but which we are reassured are actually good friends. So . . . deep breaths . . . let it out slowly . . . deep breaths again . . . and out slowly . . . and a third deep breath . . . now breathe normally . . . good, good. Everyone braced and ready?”

She received several nods. No one shook their head. Turning to face Li’eth and the window, she squared her shoulders. “We are ready to meet members of the Alliance, and our future new allies.”

(
Are you sure?
) Li’eth queried, hesitating. (
I can still “hear” your fear in your underthoughts.
)

She met his gaze levelly, brown eyes honest yet determined. (
Does it matter if I am still afraid or not? Greeting all of them politely is the correct thing to do . . . so I
will
do it.
)

(
You are a very brave, mature woman.
) Turning, he touched the controls.
“We will be opening the window shutters in just a moment. Please be seated, meioas. Thank you for your patience.”
Turning back to the Terrans, he said, “Remember, there are no enemies here, only allies and friends. Not all of them are
Human
, but all of them are peaceful. They are here to speak with you out of duty, curiosity, the intent to welcome you to this world, and to introduce you to the Alliance a few nations at a time.”

Gauging the auras of everyone in the room, Li’eth finally opened the shutters with a touch on the controls. They parted vertically, retracting into the ceiling and the floor. All of the Terrans save for their leader were seated; all of their viewers
were seated as well. For a few moments, the two sides studied each other in silence, observing the differences.

The Terrans who were soldiers and ship crew members wore either a brown or a blue military uniform, both sets striped down sleeves and trouser legs in black with matching black boots and belts. The Terrans who were civilians were clad in a variety of colors, the cuts more varied, ranging from skirts to trousers, loose blouses to fitted shirts, most with a light jacket, as the station’s ventilation system kept the air slightly on the cool side of comfortable. Footwear varied just as much.

The Gatsugi sat on chairs not much different from V’Dan furniture, save that they had a two-tier armrest style they preferred for supporting the upper and lower pairs of forearms. They were clad in gathered trousers and bell-sleeved tunics dyed in shades of blue and green and things of clear pale yellow, wearing pale gray vests embroidered in cheerful shades that in both the Gatsugi and the V’Dan languages denoted their names, ranks, and general importance. Their skin tones were complementary shades of blue with hints of peach-gold, with the two reporters at the back the peachiest of the quartet.

The K’Katta sat on slightly bowl-shaped objects similar to rather tall footstools; that height allowed them to sit more or less with their eyes at the shoulder level of the V’Dan and the Gatsugi. The padded edges supported their upper knee joints, and a padded rim midway down the sides supported their feet-claws. Li’eth knew that their truefeet and midfeet claws were clad in fitted sheaths that protected the floor surfaces from those sharp tips. The handfeet claws were left bare, since those weren’t the ones kept sharp for climbing or self-defense.

Those claw sheaths blended into their brown and tan bodies—female K’Katta were lighter in color than males—but the sashes tied around their abdomens and upper thighs did not. The ones wrapped around their torso equivalents were broad and pastel; those that were attached to their legs were darker and thin, barely ribbons. Out of deference to being paired with the Gatsugi for this initial interview, they had selected compatible colors, light and clear, mostly in the cool tones instead of the warmer ones.

All things considered, when they relaxed like that, legs drooping down and outward a little, they didn’t look like actual
spiders. Considering how many of his own people were still instinctually unnerved by such things, Li’eth had no idea why the Immortal High One had thought it a good idea to allow spiders to make the crossing along with pollinating insects, birds, frogs, so on and so forth. Unless it was purely to ensure that the insects brought across didn’t outbreed the local versions before the native predators could develop a taste for them. That was just speculation, however; it wasn’t as if the Immortal would ever show up, reveal herself, and allow him to ask why allow spiders to come along during the
d’aspra
.

The silence was broken by the chief K’Katta delegate curling up his leg toward his mouthparts. Whistling and clicking as those parts moved were quickly translated by the device riding on the top of his neck, and the comm system between the two chambers obligingly transmitted all of it. “We apologize for appearing like monsters from the depths of your subconscious minds—”

Jackie lifted her hand, palm out, then quickly flipped it palm toward herself, V’Dan-style. “—No, please,” she interrupted, facing them on her feet. “
Never
apologize for the way your people look. That is simply how you were born, how your people evolved. You should not feel bad, or be made to feel bad, simply because of an accidental reaction from someone else. We Terrans pride ourselves on looking beyond surface appearance. That some of us have failed is our shame, not yours. My shame, not yours. Never yours.”

Li’eth could feel the sincerity in her words, a bright earnest yellow in her aura, a feeling of cream riding on the top of milk in her mind. Curdled milk, for the fear was still there, and it was larger than her sincerity, but she had it under tight control. Locked down.

“It is I, as the representative of my people, who must apologize to you. To all of you. Please forgive our reactions.” She managed a closed-mouth smile in Li’eth’s direction before looking back at the others, his fellow V’Dan, and the Gatsugi seated in the middle. “After having seen the protocol film, my fellow Terrans and I believe we would not have reacted quite so badly. It was not your fault that the shutters were opened before any context could be given to us to help soothe our subconscious minds.”

(
You’re doing very well,
) Li’eth praised her as she paused for breath.

(
Creepycreepycreepycreepy,
) was her reply. It wasn’t even really aimed at him, but at least it was intermixed with, (
I will not freak out . . . They
are
sentient beings . . . Creepycreepycreepycreepy . . .
)

“Nor was it any fault of yours,” the K’Kattan envoy graciously allowed, bringing up a handfoot to gesture toward the window. “We are accustomed to witnessing unease among some of our V’Dan allies. If there is anything we can do to reassure you that we are friendly and not fierce, please let us know.”

“At the moment . . . I shall be honest and say that if you simply refrain from sudden or swift movements, we should be reasonably alright,” she returned.

Li’eth sensed a rising tide of fear and reached for her mind with his own. Clasping her mental hands, he held her firmly. (
They will obey, they will be slow, they will be graceful and not abrupt . . .
)

(
Thank you.
)

“As you wish, Grand High Ambassador. We shall be like thickened honey before you,” the envoy assured her.

“. . . With that said,” Imperial First Lord Ksa’an stated, rising to his feet, “I shall introduce the K’Kattan delegation first. Grand High Ambassador Maq’en-zi, please be seated for your comfort.”

Nodding, Jackie sat down. Li’eth moved away from the side of the window, taking one of the spare chairs at the back of the room. When they were settled, his distant cousin began.

“The one who speaks is the First Protocol Advisor to Grand High Ambassador K’kuttl’cha of K’Katta. For the sake of pronunciation and convenience, his name and title—and those of the others—have been translated into V’Dan as First Protocolist Ch’chik. Seated to his far side is Commander-of-Hundreds Twee-chuk-chrrrrr,” Ksa’an continued, rolling the Rs with the tip of his tongue. He gestured with his hand at the front of the two tan-furred aliens. “She is an officer in their Guardian Army and is the head of security for the Grand High Embassy of K’Katta to the V’Dan Empire. She may be addressed as Commander Twee, Commander-of-Hundreds, or Guardian Twee.

“Behind them is Honorable Twer-chih’chik,” he continued, shifting his outstretched hand to indicate the final tan-furred, not-a-huge-spider entity sitting on the third stool in the back, “who represents the K’Katta news collectors for the V’Dan System . . .”

APRIL 30, 2287 C.E.
DEMBER 24, 9507 V.D.S.

“And then
I
said to the mathematics professor, ‘But you yourself said zero isn’t nothing; zero is
everything
, so how could I have gotten a failing grade on that paper just because I proved it?’” V’kol quipped as he and Li’eth entered the entertainment lounge. “Which was only parroting what he himself had said when he assigned that lecture!”

Li’eth laughed. “Did you at least get the . . . grade . . . corrected?”

He trailed off, looking around the nearly empty chamber. It was large enough to hold eighty or so people, and should have held around eighty, but there were only two people inside. In specific, a certain demoted, green-marked private, who sat in one of the padded chairs, switching entertainment channels in a slow, desultory fashion, and a certain blond Terran seated at the opposite end of the broad couch. But the off-duty hours of Lieutenant Brad Colvers wasn’t his concern. Shi’ol’s on-duty hours were.

“Private Nanu’oc, aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the hangar-bay floor right now?” he asked, keeping his tone mostly mild. The disappearance of the Terrans was important, but merely a matter of curiosity, not of missed duty.

“I
cannot
, sir,” Shi’ol stated without turning her head or getting up. Colvers glanced their way even though she did not; the markless man’s expression was somewhere on the borderline of mildly annoyed, no doubt by the interruption and conversation. The privilege-suspended countess continued with a slight edge to her tone, one that was also mildly annoyed. “The Terrans have taken it over. I am therefore taking a break now, sir, because floor-cleaning is the last of my duties for the day. Sir.”

Li’eth and V’kol exchanged looks. V’kol finally shrugged, and said, “Carry on, then, Private.”

Gesturing with a pink-marked hand, the leftenant superior nudged Li’eth out of the lounge. By unspoken accord, they turned down the corridor toward the hangar. V’kol eyed the prince a couple times before finally speaking.

“Did
she
tell you what they were planning to do?” V’kol asked, meaning the Terran Grand High Ambassador.

Shaking his head, Li’eth headed into the observation hall, overlooking the hangar. The Terrans—two-thirds of them, the ones not actually asleep at the moment—had sprawled out over the floor, some sitting, some lying on their backs or their stomachs, all of them with what had to be every single spare writing tablet in the quarantined section of the space station in their hands. Three of the five Terran telepaths were seated on crates. Jackie sat at one end of the trio, her body perched at an angle to the window up on the second floor. She and the other two telepaths present did not have tablets in their hands, however.

About a dozen people were still on their feet. One of them, a man with brownish hair and freckles—one of the brown-clad soldiers, a
mah-reen
—started reciting something from his tablet, while everyone else . . . Li’eth wasn’t sure what they were doing, but as they watched, a couple more of the dozen or so who were standing sighed and sat down. Then one of the women who was still standing checked her tablet and recited from it as well . . . and then some sort of conversation took place.

The other anomaly in the room was a set of five giant grids spaced around the edges of the group. They sat vertically, like a set of cubbyhole shelving, and were filled with large cubes. Each of those cubes had a different set of V’Dan characters painted boldly on their surfaces.

“It looks like they’re marking off lists,” V’kol murmured, shading the windowpane with his hand to prevent reflections from the corridor’s lighting. “But where they got the giant letter-cube shelves . . .”

The woman shouted and threw her hands up in the air, while the
mah-reen
and the others sighed and sat down. They applauded, but it was clear she had come out the victor in whatever they were doing. When everyone settled on the deck
plates again, the cubes in the shelving grids vanished. It happened, Li’eth noted, at the exact moment that Jackie MacKenzie picked up a transparent cube about the size of her head and . . . shook it?

She rattled it vigorously, pale objects tumbling this way and that inside the box, then she sort of gave it a trembling shake that settled the cubes inside into their slots. Next to her, one of the Terran telepaths—clad in gray, the Special Forces color for their military—held something in his hand, recited something in a steady rhythm—and the cubes on the shelves were back, this time with a different jumbled combination of letters.

“Oh! Oh, I
know
this game.
Quon-set!
” V’kol exclaimed, pointing at the observation window. “I don’t know what
they
call it, but that’s the game of
Quon-set
.”

Li’eth gave him a confused look. “I haven’t heard of that one.”

“It’s a vocabulary search game—look at the cubes. First column, second row, go right three cubes, and then down two, and it spells the word
p’vink
. Minus the punctuation, of course.”

P’vink
was the word for skipping in sets of two, trading off which foot was the lead foot every two sets. It was a popular dance step for the more vigorous dances. Nodding slowly, eyes wide, Li’eth discovered more words. He pointed. “There, diagonally from just below the top right corner, you can see the start for the word
b’gonnan
.”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t actually count because you can’t double up on letters,” V’kol argued lightly. “You’ve already used the two
N
s, and there’s no third one in the grid. But it’s a good first try—why don’t we go down and join them?”