The V'Dan (30 page)

(
I was praying for it, too, Father,
) Li’eth whispered back. He shoved away thoughts of his time in that Salik cage, focusing instead on images of Jackie. (
I can’t wait for you to meet my holy partner—you will love her, I think, as much as I am coming to love her. She and the other holy ones have much to teach us about our gifts, too.
)

(
I look forward to learning all about her and her people’s ways, my son,
) Te-los agreed. (
Though I think after several decades in the Imperial Court, I might be able to teach
them
a thing or two about reading auras, yes?
)

Li’eth smiled. (
Possibly. I should like to send one of our ships to bring the teacher who taught me much about such things. I think he
would
like to know all that you have learned through experimenting and observing over the years.
)

(
I shall look forward to meeting him, then . . . and I shall not monopolize your welcome home, Kah’raman.
)

They both hugged harder, then patted each other on the back and parted. Li’eth looked toward his eldest sister, but she had already taken her seat at the Empress’ right. No hugs from
that direction. He wasn’t too surprised; Vi’alla believed firmly that the Imperial Blood should not show signs of affection in public.

“Kah’raman!” The half shout came from the same door his father and sister had used, which was a different one than he had entered through. Balei’in, youngest of the siblings, rushed across the floor to hug his brother, only to be checked by a very stern throat-clearing from his eldest sister.

Skidding to a stop, Balei’in started to go down on one knee, his indigo-marked face flushing on the paler spots with embarrassment over Vi’alla’s chastising. Hana’ka flicked her hand, giving him permission to not even bother. With the dexterity of a twenty-five-year-old, he relaunched himself at Li’eth without even touching knee to ground. Laughing, Li’eth hugged his youngest sibling, his only brother. He even lifted the younger male off his booted feet for a moment before Vi’alla cleared her throat again.

Balei’in muttered something very uncomplimentary in Solarican under his breath. Li’eth only understood part of it, but it was enough that he coughed an affirmative in reply. The others were arriving, starting with Royal Consort Dei’eth, Vi’alla’s husband. The eldest of her three children was still only sixteen years old, too young to appear in court. The same with Ah’nan’s children; she was next in entering the room, secondborn of the Imperial brood. Her wife, Royal Consort Na’ju-la came with her, as did their Consort Royal, Chor’ru, trailing behind. All three of them dropped to one knee in unison

As they did so, Li’eth realized that Vi’alla barely even looked at the Consort Nanny. His mother acknowledged the man, but her heir did not.
When did she get so rude? He’s a Nanny, a professional of the Fourth Tier . . . no, wait, he’s Third Tier, a professor of Early Childhood Development. I keep forgetting he gave up his career when Na’ju-la asked him to sire children with her and Ah’nan.

He was sorely out of the political loop. Dealing with officers was a bit more straightforward than this. Mainly because, Li’eth acknowledged as he hugged his next-eldest sibling, her wife, and their consort, in a military situation the seniormost-ranking officer got to decide just how formal or informal things could be.

The rules and regulations of the Imperial Army were very clear on that point. It was very much like a clear-cut game of
ca-mei, co-mei
, Short Wall, Long Wall—the Terrans had a similar, simple ball-racket-and-wall game called
pilota
, he had learned. Compared to the straightforward and thus very clear “if it’s in the lines, it’s good; if it’s on or outside the lines, it’s bad” rules of
ca-mei, co-mei
, Imperial politics was like trying to play guanjiball and the complex Solarican tile-placement game of
kaskat
all while riding on those Terran surfboard things at high tide.

He was very much out of practice, but as he hugged his next sibling to arrive, Mah’nami, Li’eth found himself slipping more out of, well,
being
Li’eth, captain of the Imperial Fleet, and more into being Kah’raman, thirdborn Imperial Prince. When the servants arrived with predinner drinks, he braced himself for a long evening. Most of his family loved him and were pleased to have him home, but he knew he had a lot of careful studying ahead of him, to gauge how the various undercurrents of Imperial favor and power flowed and moved these days.

The sooner he got back into the habits of studying, weighing, and watching everything said around him, including his own words, the sooner he could use all that information to hopefully pave a smoother path to the Terrans becoming the Empire’s new best friends.

MAY 18, 2287 C.E.

JANVA 12, 9508 V.D.S.

The great Tier plazas were modular. Jackie discovered that when the Terrans emerged from a set of tunnels that ran underneath the flagstones. The outer edges had been raised in risers that towered like valley walls on either side, lined with throngs
of excited, cheering, curious V’Dan. Overhead, snow drifted down out of an overcast sky. The flakes struck the nearly invisible force fields of the Winter Palace and were shunted to either side with little sparks, tracing a nearly Gothic-arch outline far overhead. If those sparks made a sound, the noise from the crowd drowned it out.

The force-field towers rose up above the grandstands, with giant projection screens hoisted between them, showing in detail various angles of the Terrans’ appearance. Those walls and the fields overhead also kept the air warmer than expected, particularly for a day in a seaside city that was cold enough to snow. She was glad she had heeded the Elite Guard’s advice on what temperature to actually dress for. As it was, her outfit was drawing some unusual stares. All of their clothing elicited stares.

Around the outside, forming a rectangular shield wall, the Space Force Marines and Navy crew members who were not guarding the embassy zone and their ships had donned full, formal Dress Blacks. The Marines had their dress swords at their sides; the Elite Guard had declared that the swords were acceptable weaponry for an escort guard to bring into the Empress’ presence, though ranged weapons of any sort would not be allowed. There were three flag bearers, one for the blue flag of the Terran United Planets with its silvery-white oval map of the surface of the Earth enclosed in a laurel wreath, one with the flag of the TUPSF Marine Corps in brown and gold, and one with the flag of the TUPSF Navy in blue and gold, to differentiate it from the main flag.

The civilian members of the staff clustered in the center of their honor guard wore a colorful array of formal clothes in shades from pastel pinks and lavenders to indigo and forest green. Jackie herself wore white. It wasn’t her best color, or even her favorite color, which would have been some shade of orange or perhaps a bright, cheerful peach, but the white of her pantsuit would be easiest for her to work with during her formal greeting presentation.

The pants were a necessity; the top formed a petal-skirted dress in layers of the finest, lightest-spun silk, some sort of chiffon, or perhaps organza. Whatever it was, it floated on the mildest of breezes in layers like a peacock’s tail. Even her sleeves
had a similar effect. In front, the layers were knee length, midshin at most; in back, they trailed on the ground, guaranteeing no one could walk closely behind her. Jackie picked her dresses to look good, not because she knew what they were made out of, and this outfit was no exception.

Their approach to the Imperial Tier started at roughly the midpoint of the Fifth Tier Plaza, where the tunnel ramp emerged up into the center of the makeshift grandstands. It took them five minutes of walking to reach the start of the steps leading to the equally vast Fourth Tier Plaza, and a full minute to mount those steps. Staring down the long, artificial valley floor to the next set of stairs, at all the risers filled with yet more tens of thousands of people, Jackie began to feel a sinking sensation inside.

(
Overwhelmed?
) Li’eth asked. He was hovering deliberately in her mind, ready to step in with a quick explanation of how to fix any protocol they might have missed, or skipped, or fumbled during this event. (
I know it’s a bit more than the biggest crowds you exposed us to.
)

(
No . . . well, yes,
) she allowed honestly. (
But I could deal with the crowds. I’ve spoken to the whole United Planets on several occasions, tens of billions at a time. It’s my presentation to your people, not my speech, that has me worried. It’s going to take us ten more minutes just to get to the Third Tier,
) she told him. (
And who knows how far across the Second, and the First . . .
)

(
They’re shorter and smaller,
) he reassured her.

(
But my presentation is for everyone to see,
) she protested. (
This is a
lot
of everyone.
)

(
Our cameras will pick up and project everything.
)

(
It’s . . . not quite the same thing . . . I think I may need a seat when I’m done.
)

(
I’ll speak with my dear cousin about arranging for a seat for everyone as soon as your Premiere is introduced. That is the earliest we can arrange it—though it would go faster if your Premiere requested it,
) Li’eth pointed out.

(
I’ll slip a little
Portugês
into my speech.
) The cheering of the Fourth Tier crowd was just as enthusiastic, if with somewhat less whistling. She realized the clothes of the last tier were predominantly shades of gray and green and brown.
These were more gray and blue and purple. (
Are the people of each Tier limited in the colors they can wear?
)

(
Of course not. No one can fake an Imperial Army uniform, of course, and red and gold together are discouraged—true gold, not brassy gold. I think those are simply the colors popular for winter coats in the price ranges for those Tiers in the last few years,
) he offered. (
Each Tier has popular clothing designers.
)

(
That . . . makes sense, actually. Certain colors do fall into and out of style as the years progress,
) she allowed. A mock sigh gusted from her mind to his. (
I certainly haven’t seen a decent orange with hints of peach in three years . . . Ancestors, this is a long walk. My cheek muscles are going to be aching at the end of all this smiling.
)

(
You do have a lovely smile,
) he told her.

She could feel her face growing warm. (
Thank you. I like yours. I think I’m even getting used to the stripe on your cheek.
)

(
Oh! And after all I’ve done to view you as mature instead of stripeless,
) he teased. (
Is that how you repay me?
)

She laughed and lifted a hand to wave, parade-style. They were in a parade after all, so she did it on the other side, too, just as she had a few times while down on the Fifth Tier Plaza. (
I mean, when you smile just right, it kind of does this weird thing where half your face gains five years in age, from the way the color bisects your eyelid.
)

(
Then that would make me a year older than you . . . No, I think I shall remain a younger man to you. After all, the older someone is, the more firmly set in their career they tend to be,
) he said. (
That means you’ll have a higher salary, and can keep me in a manner to which I’ll become accustomed.
)

She almost snorted inelegantly. (
Nice to know
some
things translate across the cultural barrier. There’s just
one
major flaw with that idea.
)

(
Oh?
)

(
This is your world,
) Jackie pointed out. (You
are the one in this pairing with access to actual money.
)

(
Ah, true. I shall endeavor to collect my pay, so that I can support you in your old age.
)

(
Oh! And after all I’ve done to encourage our bond, the romance is gone!
) she protested, laughing again.

(
You actually haven’t done all that much,
) he pointed out wryly.

(
We have to let word get around of our bond, and let people get used to the idea. Little steps. One Tier Plaza at a time,
) she added. The stairs to the Third Tier still looked like they were a few more minutes of walking away, so she waved again to the throngs of people lining the valley of uplifted flagstones. (
How long did it take your people to build a plaza floor that could be turned into grandstand bleachers?
)

(
It was my . . . hmm. Mother, Grandfather, Great-grandfather . . .
) he countered. (
No, wait, there’s an easier way to count. It was done by my ancestor two Emperors before we met up with the K’Katta. So pre–interstellar space exploration, about five hundred years ago, Emperor Mah’kien. He was sick of his Fourth Tier wife’s relatives complaining to him that they couldn’t see any of the special celebrations when everyone was all on the same level.
)

(
Wait, Fourth Tier wife?
) Jackie asked, waving and smiling some more. The stairs to the Third Tier were drawing closer. (
I always thought royals and nobles were too interested in keeping to their “own kind” to marry into the lower classes. That’s the way it used to be, back on Earth.
)

(
That would be biological suicide,
) Li’eth told her. (
We caught on quickly in the first half of the first millennium, post–War King, how if you do that, you inbreed idiots onto the throne. That was the first major shift toward a collateral line that had outbred itself into the lower ranks. They were merely cousins to the throne, distanced by four generations of marrying fresh blood from the lower Tiers. Only they weren’t Tiers at that time, more like informal castes . . .

(
It took a couple hundred years to refine the system, but the law is the law. We
have
to marry common, unrelated blood by the fifth generation, or the throne goes to a collateral line. Usually it’s every three to four generations,
) he said.

(
Your father?
) she asked.

(
Noble-born, as was my paternal grandmother, but Great-grandmother was from the Third Tier. Father is Second Tier, though, not First Tier, so far less related than you’d think. He’s the son of an ergrave . . . that’s a rank above baron, but below a . . . viscount, I think is the appropriate level in
Terranglo. Baron and baroness, ergrave and ergress, viscount and viscountess, count, countess, margrave, margress. That’s Second Tier nobility.

(
Then you have First Tier, which starts at the bottom with duke, duchess, high duke, high duchess, grand dukes and grand duchesses . . . not counting any of the military ranks, or the ambassadorial or bureaucratic peers, the uppermost rank of the priesthoods—the lowest of which are Fourth Tier for the apprentices and Third Tier for the common, parish-level priests . . .
)

The conversation was interesting, and carried her attention up through the Third Tier. Some of it even involved some of the aliens she spotted in the crowd though most of the faces were Human. Jackie had the impression that Li’eth and his family were resting comfortably in chairs, awaiting for the moment when they would be called outside, and envied him a little bit for it.

There was a bit of a fumble with one of the two the Terran robots carrying their own projection screens on the steps to the Second Tier, but a quartet of Marines swept in, two from either side, lifted it up before it could fall, and carried it double time without missing a step to the next plaza level, where the two technicians assigned to it were able to sort out its legs before Jackie, at the end of the processional with the last few guards, caught up with them. It swiftly caught up with its partner near the front, and the Marines went right back into position, again without missing a beat.

There hadn’t been much whistling on the Third Tier trip, and by Second Tier, there was none to be heard in that plaza. Plenty of applause, a bit of cheering, but the energy grew more and more restrained the closer they came to the last two sets of steps. The noises from the Fifth and Fourth Tiers were now just a rush of sound, while the polite applause up ahead swelled into sound. It came, she realized, from a slightly different style of clapping. Some of which was echoed on the Second Tier, a sort of back-of-the-hand-to-the-palm smacking. It was effective at making noise without producing any truly sharp sounds. Restrained, in other words.

The steps between the Tiers were fewer now, too. She could almost see the flagstones of the First Tier from the Second.
There were still thousands around them, but not more than fifteen, maybe twenty thousand on the Second Tier, and only a few thousand on the First Tier. As they mounted the last few steps, the Marines spread out into a shallow rectangle, forming two lines with the Navy crew members, clad in black with brown stripes, black with blue stripes, even one or two with gray stripes. The civilians in between and the robot tenders moved to points a third of the way across the flat part of the plaza on either side.

Those robots shuffled their hexapod legs outward, then squatted and unfolded their projection towers several meters overhead. The three outermost poles unfurled with flexible, transparent membrane screens between them. For the moment, those screens remained blank, but studded all over the poles were Terran audio and visual pickups, which first blinked green, then flicked to pinpoints of red, showing that they were now streaming from the steps of the Winter Palace to the hyperrelay probe that had been delivered to a barren patch of the inner face of the tidally locked innermost moon, V’Neh.

At the same moment, the Imperial Family walked onto the Imperial Tier Plaza, flanked by Elite Guards in formal cream-and-gold suits embellished with red. That contrasted against the bright blood reds worn by the ruling family, save for the War Queen in a very fanciful version of the Elite’s dress uniform. The highest of the plazas was only about thigh high to the First, and about the size of four grand-performance stages at most, so the Terrans had a good view of everyone once they were spread out.

Behind the Imperial Tier Plaza lay a very weathered, temple-like building with heavy columns, many of which had been replaced, but some of which looked weathered enough to be several thousand years old. Jackie had a brief glimpse of not just one huge doorway beyond the V’Daania clan, but of two more, and of a strange, sarcophagus-like block deep inside, bathed in a pool of light from overhead. That made her curious, but she didn’t have time to ask Li’eth about it. The rituals of greeting were about to begin.