The V'Dan (15 page)

(
Your clinical discussion is exceedingly romantic,
) he retorted dryly.

(
If I talk in terms of romance, they’ll never take the Gestalt seriously,
) she replied calmly, not fooled by his sarcasm.

(
True.
) He started to say more, but Dr. Qua entered the galley from a side door. She stopped for a moment, blinking, then hurried toward him, hands outstretched.

“Your Highness, you should not be scrubbing dishes!” she told him, distress coloring her tone.

Li’eth started to retreat, since she was right, he shouldn’t have to . . . but Jackie was lurking in his mind, and he stopped himself. Stepping back up to the sink, he shook his head and continued rinsing his plate.

“The Terrans have the right attitude toward these things, Doctor,” he told her. He even blocked her hands with his elbow and a pointed look. “
I
made the mess; therefore, I should be the one to clean it. Besides, who
would
do it if I do not? We are all Third Tier or higher, here in quarantine. And at the moment, your skills are far more important than mine. I am merely a son and a soldier. You are a doctor who will help save these Terrans’ lives.”

“Well, one of the Terrans could . . .” She trailed off, brow furrowing in thought. Finally, the lavender-spotted woman shook her head. “They shouldn’t handle the food. Their daily medicines are keeping them from reacting to the toxins in the air, the
histamines
as they call them, but direct contact makes everything worse.”

“With some things, direct contact makes everything better,” Li’eth murmured, thinking of Jackie for a moment. He reached for the detergent and started scrubbing his rinsed tableware to get them fully clean. “But in this case, no. They should not be handling our food, even just our food waste.”

“But you are of the Imperial bloodline; your blood alone excuses you from menial tasks,” Qua pointed out.

“I also have a duty to lead by example,” Li’eth countered, rinsing the plate and setting it in a drying rack. He moved on to his glass, saving the
umma
, the
spork
, for last. “These Terrans believe one of the signs of maturity means accepting responsibility without flinching or hesitating. Even for unpleasant tasks.”

Qua frowned at him, brows drawn together and teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. He could tell by her aura that she was thinking things through. Finally, the geneticist said, “What would the Empress say about her son’s washing dishes?”

“That I am acting in ways our guests think are proper, and thus it will help them regard me as someone worthy of their time and attention.”

Actually, he wasn’t completely sure what his mother would
think
, but that was what she would
say
after giving it careful thought. After all, she had contacted his first commanding officer when he was a newly graduated ensign and had told the woman not to go easy on him just because of his bloodline.

“I learned to wash dishes in the military, Doctor, after my mother instructed my first commander to treat me the same as anyone else . . . and there, even the utensil is clean, and far faster than it would be if I tried to call someone else to do it.” Setting it next to the glass and the plate, he rinsed his hands and dried them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend in the observation lounge.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bowing slightly, she moved aside so that he could exit the galley through the same door
she had used. He could sense her watching him as he left, and almost reached out to try to read her thoughts but stopped himself. That would be inappropriate, he knew.

Instead, he turned just past the doorway, and said, “Please, call me Li’eth while we are in quarantine together.” Lifting his hands, he gestured at his cream-shirted, red-trousered, coatless body, the casual equivalent of officer wear. He had not been perfectly tidy in washing his dishes, which meant his shirt was spotted here and there with water. “Particularly if the moment is not formal.”

Dr. Qua eyed him dubiously. “I think you may have been overly influenced by these Terrans, Your Highness.”

“Or perhaps I have been overly influenced by military life, first and foremost. I am, after all, a mere captain, not even a captain superior, and have been a mere Second Tier officer for the last few years.” Dipping his head politely, he left. He hadn’t planned to visit his quarters to pick up his jacket, left behind so that his meal would not run the risk of staining his uniform. But the geneticist’s words were a possibility to consider.

Deciding that he could afford to be a little bit late, he turned right toward his quarters, instead of left toward the observation lounge. (
Dr. Qua brought up a good point. I shouldn’t act too casual or too Terran in my behavior for fear of being seen as “overly influenced” by your customs.
)

(
Oh, what rot and nonsense.
Everyone
is influenced by every single person they meet. Plus, if they get along—and are the same species; I don’t know enough about interalien reactions—they are going to “mirror” each other’s speech, mannerisms, posture,
everything
,
) Jackie retorted. Her subthoughts were sympathetic toward him. (
Take as much time as you like. I’m not afraid to meet the local priesthood on my own.
)

(
You’re a strong woman,
) he praised her, before turning his attention to the task of making himself look like a proper officer. (
I’ll be there soon.
)

—

Glad that Li’eth was no longer feeling morose over his performance in the game, Jackie headed for the observation lounge.

After meeting the K’Katta, the other races seemed almost
normal by comparison, but at the same time, Jackie had to admit that it did make the spiderlike race seem a bit less alarming. Not completely normal but less frightening. She had heard that there were psychics among the arthropodic species, same as there were among the Solaricans. The silver-furred one had been introduced as Seer Laiyang, and if she had correctly interpreted the word choices being used, the alien psychic was a telepath and a clairvoyant, among other things.

And, of course, there was an entire caste of psis among the Tlassians—she had met their representative, Priest-Envoy Chelleug, along with Worker-Envoy Tarik and Warrior-Envoy S’ssull, the one with the yellow-and-blue hide—but now it was time to meet the V’Dan version. So today’s meeting was to be strictly with V’Dan gifted, fellow Humans, all of whom were members of the majority religion, the Sh’nai faith.

A cluster of robed Humans were already gathered on the other side of the unshuttered window when she entered the lounge. The comm speakers weren’t active, but she could see five figures, what looked like two women and three men. Most of their layered clothes were variations on cream, but the hemlines of the long, bell-like sleeves and the cross-folded, scallop-edged overrobes were decorated in a series of embroidered and appliquéd motifs ranging from pale blue and white snowflakes on two of them, to autumn leaves, flowers, and sprigs of greenery.

As much as the life-support officer wasn’t a die-hard follower of the Sh’nai faith, Dai’a Vres-yat
was
heavily interested in all the stories and lores of the major religions of her people, and had regaled the Terrans with some interesting—if at times confusing—stories of their main religion during their time together in quarantine, back in the Sol System. With at least some of those snippets of information in mind, Jackie was able to tell exactly who was in “control” of the Sh’nai faith right now.

Li’eth’s comment about winter coming early wasn’t about weather or temperature. It was about how they only have nine holy days a year, not twelve. Dai’a said that once a year, one of the four season-based factions of the faith gets to take command for six months, not three, with the season preceding it being “skipped” for that year. That’s why there are five representatives here. The Winter Temple is in ascendancy—Autumn
is being “skipped” this year, with Winter taking over its duties, rites, and some of its privileges—and so they get to have two representatives.
She eyed the woman with the golds and browns and peach hues decorating a palm-wide swath of her hemlines.
Autumn still has power, though, for all its rites are being overlooked, and as the skipped season, it can still band together with the other two to overrule Winter in its ascendancy.

An awkward system, from my point of view, but I suppose there are some nice checks and balances in it,
she decided as they noticed her entrance and turned to face her through the window. Behind her, more of her own people entered. Turning her attention to them, she gestured for the men and women to take some of the seats. Today’s session would have a smaller number of participants, not quite as many members of the military, and a couple more historians.

A rattling sound in the corridor grew louder, resolving into a transport cart. Maria, taking a break from her medical work, helped Heracles push the cart into the room. A few of the others rose to shift the chairs, making room for the sled, which contained one large, bulky object, one smaller, chest-sized machine, and a silver-sided case filled, no doubt, with the diagnostic tools of her trade.

“Ambassador, what are those objects?”

Jackie hadn’t even realized Imperial First Lord Ksa’an had entered the other half of the observation lounge. Moving over to the controls, she checked to make sure the comm system was open on her end, and addressed his questions. “The smaller of the two machines is a
KI
monitor, what we call
kinetic inergy
.
Kinetic
means movement, and
inergy
is a combination of the words for ‘inner’ and ‘energy’ in Terranglo. This is meant to differentiate it from the physics definition for kinetic energy, which is the measurement of potential energy, such as is found in a coiled spring waiting to be released, or expressed energy, such as a hammer striking a nail.

“Kinetic
inergy
on the other hand,” Jackie explained, using V’Dan words wherever she could, since the people on the other side of the window did not speak Terranglo, “is the measurement of how much
psychic
energy—what you would call holy energy—is being expended. I was told that the honorable representatives of your Sh’nai faith would be discussing
holy powers today, so I arranged to have a KI machine on hand. Dr. de la Santoya has agreed to help monitor the proceedings so that your people will have some hard biological facts to go along with any, ah, ‘holy’ demonstrations.

“The larger of the two machines is a portable hydrogenerator. Whenever we’re not using solar power, we’re using purified water deconstructed into hydrogen and oxygen through a special catalyst my people have developed. Since we’re still in the process of figuring out how to convert from one power system to the other, there are as yet no ways for us to plug our machines into yours,” she explained. “So it just made sense for us to bring along a few portable generators for our needs, for now.”

“A generator in quarantine?” the woman in the autumn-edged robes asked. She turned enough that Jackie could see that the right side of her jaw had a deep blue blotch on it, one that ran up into the hairline of her short-cropped gray hair. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Jackie shook her head. “So long as no one hits the case with a giant hammer, or tries to disassemble it, I don’t see how it could be. There are far too many safety features installed to fear anything bad happening, otherwise.”

“She means the fumes, child,” the elder of the two males in winter-edged robes stated.

Child.

Jackie carefully quelled the urge to frown beneath the weight of a patient, diplomatic smile. “I am not a child, meioa, and have not been one for many years. Every single Terran who came here, every single member of our embassy, is also an adult. Please remember that and address us accordingly. As for our generators, they only produce a modest amount of oxygen as a waste product. All of the hydrogen and most of the oxygen are carefully converted into energy.

“Even waste heat is conserved and converted back into energy through various means, leaving the outer casing cool and comfortable to the touch. It’s a very efficient design,” she added. A few more people trickled in through the door. Jackie paused to count heads. Just as everyone accounted for on the Terran side of things finished taking their seats, Li’eth strode in, looking formal and calm. “Ah, good. Welcome, Your Highness. I believe we are ready to begin.”

Nodding, he moved over to take her place by the controls, allowing her to settle into the center seat in the front row. “Excellent. Meioas, are you ready?”

The priests took their seats, and Ksa’an took his place by the far side of the window, diagonally from the prince. “We are ready,” the protocol officer stated. “I am not certain how much of the Sh’nai faith you know—”

Li’eth raised his hand, gently interrupting his kinsman. “I have explained that the Sh’nai leadership consists of four ‘seasonal’ Temples, and that due to the rotation of holy days in a year, one of the Temples has ascendancy once a year in rotation. At the moment, Winter Temple is in ascendance and Autumn Temple is in abeyance, though they, of course, still have most of their rights and privileges. They simply do not have their holy days celebrated this year.”

Ksa’an bowed his head. “Then I shall begin. Our visitors today, meioas, are the highest-ranked members of the Sh’nai faith. I present High Priestess Be’ela of the Holy Eye, leader of the Autumn Temple.”

The woman with the blue
jungen
mark along her jawline inclined her head politely. Jackie nodded back.

“Next is High Priest Sorleth-ain, leader of the Summer Temple.” That introduction came with a nod from the brown-skinned male with the shaved head and light golden rosette clusters dotted here and there over his skin. Ksa’an moved on to the next. “And the High Priestess Tar’eth Truthspeaker of the Spring Temple . . .”

That nod came from the woman with deep brown skin and pink borderline spots similar to Dr. Qua’s lavender ones. Unlike the short-cropped salt-gray strands of the other priestess, High Priestess Tar’eth had no signs of gray in the intricately braided strands of her dark hair. Interestingly enough, the pattern of her hair was repeated in the next man introduced. That was a fellow also in his late forties or early fifties, his pale golden skin streaked with brown squiggles, his long hair also interlaced and pinned in looped and latticed braids.