The V'Dan (28 page)

That stopped Jackie. The other three men stopped as well. She faced the Elite Guard officer. “Is that the truth, Grand Captain?”

“Is what the truth?” he asked, lifting his brows.

“That you have not observed the Solarican guards in practice?
Is
that the truth?” she asked him.

“Of course it is. We are forbidden from using visual and audio surveillance in the embassies of our allied guests. In fact, the only surveillance equipment we maintain in all guest zones are hazardous-situation sensors: fire, smoke, toxic-gas clouds, toxic-liquid spills, and structural integrity,” he counted, ticking off the items on his cyan-splotched fingers. There were a few
jungen
marks on his face, but several more on his hands, making them look permanently marked with light, bright blue ink stains. “Those are the five things that can affect the safety and well-being of not only all our guests, but also the rest of the Palace structure and its inhabitants.

“Those are therefore the five things we monitor, and we monitor them with a mandatory round-the-day crew of at least three members of each embassy’s own people in each zone’s surveillance chamber, which is located in one of the nearby Guard Hall sections,” he finished. “Will that be a problem?”

“So long as there is transparency in your actions and full, forewarned involvement by our own security teams . . . then no, there shouldn’t be a problem,” Jackie agreed. “I’m surprised that you don’t want to watch how each embassy’s security teams practice their combat capabilities.”

That earned her a wry smile and a slight shake of the grand captain’s head. “There is a large difference, Ambassador, between
wanting
to watch and being
allowed
to watch. We are not allowed, however much we might want to watch. Personally, I find the Solaricans very graceful. Their skill at combat is like seeing a silk ribbon dancing in the wind at the end of a tumbler’s wand.”

“Well, I’m not allowed to demonstrate my
own
combat capabilities in public,” Jackie told him. She gestured for them to resume walking. “So you’ll just have to settle for finding a compliant Solarican.”

“The Space Force insisted upon that,” al-Fulan asserted. “And I back their decision one hundred percent. We can be given all the reassurances on our safety on this world that you care to breathe, but there is always a chance that someone will want to attack Ambassador MacKenzie. The less they know about how prepared or not she is to defend herself, the better.”

“I would say the same thing applies to me,” Li’eth agreed, “save that the secrecy of my military identity, and thus my performance in the military, has been unveiled to some degree.”

“The revelation of your true identity to my people has done more to ensure our trust than it could ever endanger you,” Jackie told him. “At least, from us.”

(
A cheap acknowledgment, considering your people are incredibly trusting,
) he reminded her.

(
Welcoming is not the same as trusting, Li’eth,
) she reminded him. (
We would have welcomed you warmly regardless. But my people trust
you
. I should like to strongly recommend to your mother that you be appointed liaison to the Terran embassy. You’ve gained a lot of friends over the last few weeks.
)

(
Even if I am lousy at your vocabulary-cube game?
) he quipped lightly.

(
Possibly even because of it,
) Jackie teased, smiling. (
There’s the second checkpoint, and the elevator doors beyond. These
corridors are all shades of white and neutral silver, and hints of United Planets blue. I’m wondering if they carried the theme into my personal quarters.
)

(
Probably,
) Li’eth admitted. (
From what I understand, it’s been done in all the various embassies, using lots of white accented with each nation’s colors. The Gatsugi aren’t too thrilled by all the V’Dan Imperial scarlet we use, and gold is the literal color of greed for them, but they do allow our embassies to be decorated in our national hues.
) He paused, then added lightly, (
And if you ever get to visit their embassy, feel free to wear gray glasses . . . ah, your
sunglasses
, I think is the Terranglo word. They tend to overindulge in color.
)

(
I’ll consider myself duly warned and scrounge up a pair for when I go visiting in person. But after umpteen days in quarantine gray, I think I’ll be happy to be mugged by a visual rainbow,
) she teased back, entering the last lift with his fingers still twined with hers.

Li’eth had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. That was, until the grand captain eyed their joined hands. “Your Highness . . . from a security standpoint . . . is it necessary to hold hands with the Grand High Ambassador?”

“Very. We are holy-paired,” Li’eth stated, lifting their hands.

“If he wasn’t in a
Gestalt
with me, as my people call it, I would certainly never allow him or any other V’Dan full and free access to my quarters,” Jackie added firmly. “Nor am I going to allow that access to anyone else, even among our own people, aside from a trusted few. Even the cleaning staff will have limited access.”

“And there are the thorns on the flower. Which is good,” Tes’rin told them, as the lift doors opened onto a tasteful white-and-pale-blue-decorated miniature lobby. “The more guarded you are, the more I will relax in regards to your personal safety, Ambassador. I will never relax fully, of course, but I am in charge of all security measures for the Terran zone. I worked for a while in the South Embassy Wing, and the Thumb of the Son of Cho insisted for the longest time that he didn’t need to alert any security details whenever he wished to use the water gardens for swimming in, on the far south side of the building.”

“That sounds like you have some interesting tales to tell,”
al-Fulan offered to his V’Dan counterpart. “Once we get some currency exchanges going, any chance I can buy you a meal, and we can exchange tales?”

“No alcohol, as I’m always in charge, even when I’m not on duty,” Tes’rin demurred. He palmed open the double doors across from the lift and gestured them to enter a sitting room with yet more silver-and-blue furnishings, couches, chairs, end tables, and so forth. “But some food while we chat would be good.”

“No alcohol, I agree,” al-Fulan agreed, grinning. “I wouldn’t drink it for religious reasons, anyway. But I wouldn’t say no to a medium-rare steak. I’ll buy the first meal after the bureaucrats have figured out a payment exchange system.”

“I assure you, it’s already on my list of things to do, gentlemen,” Jackie confirmed, stepping between the two men as they each moved back to let her enter her new quarters. She tugged Li’eth in her wake as she spoke. “In fact, I think it’s number five: set up a value exchange rate, service for service, facility for facility, so that each government doesn’t have to keep paying for each other’s expenses without any recompense. Sort of a preliminary economic exchange.

“Now, let’s see what amenities you V’Dan have in store for me . . .”

“Finally.”

The single word dropped into the quiet of the inner salon. Empress Hana’ka Iu’tua Has-natell Q’una-hash Mi’idenei V’Daania set her cup of
caffen
on its gilded coaster on the equally gilded table next to her firmly padded, gilt-edged scarlet chair. Gray eyes, edged with faint lines he hadn’t seen before, watched him approach to within three lengths and lower himself to one knee.

She left him there, waiting for permission to rise, while she studied him.

It gave him time to come to terms with his surroundings, at least. Li’eth had almost forgotten the ostentation of life in the Imperial Tier. That chair was very unlike Terran furniture, which tended more toward comfort than impressiveness. All of the furniture here in this private but still formal sitting room was meant to be impressive. Gold and silver,
nassen
-bone carvings and other ossified, opalescent stones, rubies and garnets and so forth, luxurious fabrics woven from rare, colorful fibers—with red and cream predominating, of course—and every bit of wood carved and accented by the finest artists.

When he had first left the Summer Palace for officer’s training, there had been a number of decorations throughout the training facilities and dormitories, but everything had seemed inordinately plain compared to what he had known growing up. When he reached space and his first assignment, the austerity of an actual Imperial Fleet ship was downright ascetic, a shock of cultural blandness. Seeing all the strange artworks the Terrans put into their quarantine, the little touches here and there and everywhere in their tour of Terran locations, had been a bit of a reverse culture shock in turn. Not just because it existed but because it was so different.

The austere settings of V’Dan quarantine had drained away some of his tolerance for such things. He felt like the chamber was too busy even though it was virtually unchanged from all the years he had passed through it on a daily basis before his induction into the Army. However, his mother had changed more than this room, with its treasures stretching back for generations, centuries, even millennia for some of them.

It wasn’t just the gold-and-scarlet War Queen regalia instead of the flowing dresses she had favored prior to his departure and the start of the war. It was those little lines at the corners of her eyes. The thin strands of silver threaded through her gold-and-burgundy hair. The frown line that pinched together between her brows. The doubt shadowing her aura, like thin gray veils that sucked the color out of anything they passed over.

Finally, she lifted and flicked her hand, curling her fingers inward in a sideways sweep that invited him not only to stand but to come to her. Li’eth immediately did so. Hana’ka rose to
meet him, opening her arms. Relieved that he wasn’t in full disgrace, Li’eth embraced her, clinging to his mother. A corner of his mind marveled at how short she felt compared to him, but then part of him insisted she was still his tall, strong, proud mother from when he was young. Back when he had been a mere boy who had to physically as well as emotionally look up to her.

He eased his grip when she pulled back, only to have her hand cup his striped cheek. Her gray eyes searched his for a long moment, the one that matched hers, and the one that had been colored by
jungen
fever.

“Did they hurt you?” she demanded softly.

Li’eth blinked, unsure what she had heard. “The Terrans? Of course not. They’ve been very—”

“—I meant the
Salik
,” his mother corrected. Her thumb brushed his cheekbone, stroking the finger-wide stripe that reached down into the upper edge of his slowly growing stubble. “Did they find out who you were?”

“No. I had applied a fresh coat of plasflesh just that morning. My beard grew out, but enough of the stripe was concealed,” he reassured her. A memory flashed through his head, of a hand, severed from its owner. “They tormented me, eating one of my bridge crew in front of me—a piece of her—but they didn’t touch me.”

Hana’ka gripped both of his cheeks. “I
will
kill them,” she promised, mother to son, not just Empress to subject. “I put off your going into the military for the longest time because . . . because of the prophecies. When your ship was lost . . .” She blinked, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Hardening her gaze, she looked at him sternly. “I cannot withdraw you from the military, but I
am
going to post you far from their reach—”

“—I cannot leave the Grand High Ambassador,” Li’eth reminded her. He didn’t mean to, but he
could
sense her underthoughts, transient images of some remote moon outpost at the farthest edge of V’Dan territory from Salik predations.

Her hands slipped from his face, dropping to grip his shoulders, and her worried determination slumped into disgruntlement. “Kah’raman, whatever you
think
this is . . .”

“It
is
a holy pairing,” he asserted, dropping his hands and
stepping back, forcing her to let go of him. “Does it not say in the
Book of Saints
, the Teachings of Saint Wa’cuna, that when the enemy of surf and sky rains fire upon the Eternal Home, the Holy Pair shall cast those fires aside? I am a
pyrokinetic
, Mother, with hands that now burn with holy fire. A fire that is finally under my
own
control.
Look.
”

Lifting his hand palm up, he concentrated. Heat welled under his skin for a moment, then it leaped up a thumb’s length, forming a bright spark that became for just two breaths an intense, golden-white flame. He extinguished it, since burning the very air was difficult.

“Since when has
any
holy fire-caller summoned and extinguished flame upon command?” Lifting his other hand, he frowned in concentration, and lit the air for another two seconds. Returning his gaze to her startled face, Li’eth said earnestly. “Not in seven hundred
years
, Empress. Not since the blighted reign of Emperor Kah’hiak, when his successor, Empress Na’tosha had Saint Gile’an on her side to help her overthrow her mad cousin . . . and even then, Saint Gile’an had to invoke
emotion
to evoke his gifts. I am perfectly calm, and I can still call fire.

“These Terrans have skills and training beyond anything anyone but the Immortal herself could imagine. They have machines that can
detect
holy energies, Empress,” he added, invoking her title to remind her that he wasn’t making these assertions for his own sake though his own happiness was at stake. “With those machines to monitor their efforts, they have developed training systems that
work
. I have only had a few months’ worth of training—the presentation in two days’ time, the Grand High Ambassador has trained in her abilities for
years
, and it will leave the entire Empire breathless.

“Together,
we
are that prophesied holy pairing. And that means I
must
stay by her side. Even if it weren’t for the massive amount of data the Terrans have collected on why physically and psychologically it isn’t a good reason to be parted, the prophecy says we will save V’Dan. Since we are at war, and we will need their help in winning it, you should appoint me as our military liaison to the Terrans,” he told her. “For the good of the Empire and the good of the Alliance, we need them on our
side, we need them to cooperate, and we need them to share their technologies.”

His mother turned away from him. She stared unseeing at the stone mosaics on the wall framing the window overlooking the inner gardens, at the artworks of thousands of years carefully displayed and dusted by countless loyal servants. Perhaps even at the elegant porcelain ewer his sister Mah’nami had broken and been forced to learn how to repair, as punishment for her carelessness. Li’eth waited for her to answer his suggestion.

“. . . You expect me to put my trust in an intangible prophecy that never once mentioned that these people, these Second Empire members, are
children
.”

“They are
not
children, Empress. And maybe
that
is why it was never mentioned,” Li’eth pointed out. Hana’ka turned to face her son, and he nodded. “Yes, Mother. It wasn’t mentioned
because
their markless states do not matter. They are adults, they are mature, they are skilled in many ways, and they possess technology no one else in the known galaxy has. Advantages no one else can access, let alone duplicate . . . unless we become their allies.

“We need to become their
friends
,” he coaxed her. “Their Ambassador and I are perfectly poised to build that understanding, that alliance, and that friendship,
because
of our holy pairing. We have every reason because of the bond between us to want to encourage cooperation between our two nations.”

She eyed him a long moment before crossing her arms and turning slightly away. “I do not understand their data. This . . .
siy-kihk
science of theirs. Such things have
always
been the realm of saints and priests, of mysticism and prayers, and not the purview of women and men of science.”

Li’eth was not used to seeing his mother being stubborn like this, save for certain moments, deep in the privacy of the innermost chambers of the Imperial Wing . . . when his father was right and his mother was wrong. Biting his lip to keep from laughing—she hated knowing she was in the wrong, and it wouldn’t be proper to show any sense of triumph—Li’eth spread his hands. “They
have
made it into a science. They also have an interesting saying that applies to this moment, Mother.”

“What?” she asked, skeptical.

“A sufficiently advanced science can look like magic to the uneducated . . . until they have learned the secrets of that advanced science,” he told her.

“I am told they do not even have artificial gravity,” she pointed out, freeing a hand to gesture upward, toward the stars. “How advanced could they be?”

“Neither did we when we met the K’Katta,” he reminded her. “I have a question for you. Why is my sister Ah’nan the Imperial Grand High Ambassador to the Alliance, and my sister Mah’nami is not?”

“Because Imperial Princess Mah’nami is gifted at comprehending advanced mathematics, while Imperial Princess Ah’nan is gifted at comprehending cultures and languages.” She didn’t have to append an
of course
to her statement. It was implicit in her tone.

“Yet Ah’nan could learn through hard work and extra study to be better at math, and Mah’nami could learn through hard work and extra study to be better at alien languages. They are like the Terrans and the V’Dan in that respect,” he said.

“Your analogy is imprecise . . . but it is not flawed,” Hana’ka allowed. Not too grudgingly, either. Dragging in a deep breath, she relaxed her folded arms, letting them drop to her sides. “Do you really think they can be of any use in our war with the Salik?”

“I believe it. They are very different, and in those great and many differences, Empress,” he informed her, “the Salik will
not
understand what they face until it is too late. That, and being able to communicate near instantly across the whole of the known galaxy will be unbelievably useful,” Li’eth allowed. He tucked his hands behind his back and strolled over to see if he could spot the joint where the ewer had been repaired.

“They only occupy one star system, from what you’ve told me in your reports,” she reminded him, trailing in his wake. “Their fleet appears to be remarkably small.”

“They produced more than thirty new ships during the time we spent on Earth, and those are the ones I know about. A few of them were as big as the Ambassador’s vessel, the rest the same size as the smaller ones.”

“Oh, well, such a marvelous fleet of thirty tiny, ungravitied ships in just a handful of months. Praise V’Neh, V’Yah, and
U’Veh for watching over us all with their munificence!” Hana’ka caroled sarcastically, lifting her palms in mock-Trinitist prayer.

“We were on Earth for only a few
weeks
, Mother. They have seven-day weeks like we do, even if their days are a bit shorter,” he added. “I am certain I was not informed of just how many ships they actually have in production. I am also told that because of their own prophecies—short-term as opposed to long-term, but still tangible—that they have been increasing their production capacity for months beforehand, of both ships and the probe-things that contain their communications gear. And they have been recruiting and training new soldiers.”

“Which they will cram onto their tiny ships,” his mother scoffed. “Or should we send some of our transit guards with pugil sticks to help pack them in properly?”

“Soldiers we should send our largest ships
to pick up
,” Li’eth countered. “They are terribly overcrowded, Mother. They hold
lottery drawings
to see if a particular couple can have a third child. Promise them land and resources on a V’Dan colonyworld in exchange for fighting for us on the ground, and they will cram in themselves. Quite eagerly, I think.”

“It would do no good to pack Terrans onto our ships,” she told him. “That’d just be more food for the Salik once they’ve disabled our vessels. They would have to train for months to grasp V’Dan technology.”

“I meant, transport them and put them on the
ground
,” Li’eth countered. “We just need to use our much larger ships to transport them. Once they’re on the ground, they can fight without needing to know how to fly our ships. All they’ll need is to know how to fight on that particular planet or moon, or on a space station to help defend it. That can be taught to them in transit.”

“You may have a point. But I’m not sure we can spare that many ships for transporting all those troops,” Hana’ka muttered grimly. She reached up to touch the spot where her daughter had broken the gem-studded flask, then lowered her hand. “Our fleet is scattered all over the place right now, trying to transport our own troops . . . and we cannot evacuate the colonies that are falling to the enemy’s ground-based advance.”

“Then let their ships serve in place of ours—they don’t need to be large in a fight when they can be fast and maneuverable,” he reminded her. “And their weapons don’t have to be plentiful. Their military leader—the title is strange, they call him an ‘Admiral-General’ of all things—he informed me that they can use nonradioactive bombs capable of destroying entire cities—he said this
not
to threaten us,” Li’eth added quickly as she turned to him, her cheeks flushing red and her eyes narrowing. “He said it was to inform me as a courtesy that their fleet may be literally small in both the size of each ship and their numbers, but that they can deliver very powerful blows to our enemies.