The V'Dan (31 page)

The master of ceremonies for this event was not Imperial First Lord Ksa’an but rather an elderly gentleman whose name Jackie did not know; he was literally named Master of
Ceremonies in V’Dan, giving up his name to his title the moment he had stepped into his position during the reign of the previous Emperor. The position was inheritable, and he had three daughters and a son working with him; after a period of study, she had been told, one would eventually be selected to succeed him when the white-haired, yellow-spotted, heavily tanned man was ready to retire.

His robes were cream and white with bits of yellow, orange, and red embroidered over it, forming either stylized tongues of flame or stylized flame-colored flowers, she wasn’t sure which. He had a podium platform off to the side, halfway down the steps. Reaching the podium and its discreet pickups, he lifted his arms into the air, a move echoed all around them by the giant projection screens. Within bare heartbeats of his arms going up, the roar of the crowd vanished, leaving only a hushed silence punctuated by a faint sizzling sound overhead from the snowflakes zapping against the force field protecting them from the weather, or worse.

“Kneel now on bended limb,” Master of Ceremonies intoned, each word delivered with crisp, slow, stately introduction. “For you exist within the benevolent, watchful protection of Her Eternal Majesty, Empress Hana’ka Iu’tua Has-natell Q’una-hash Mi’idenei V’Daania, Shield of the Twenty-One Worlds, Jeweled Sword of Heavenly Vengeance, War Queen of V’Dan, our One Hundred Sixty-First Sovereign of the Unbroken, Eternal Empire!”

His upturned palms flicked down, and everyone dropped to one knee in near-perfect unison. A discreet glance to either side as she lowered herself along with the Terrans showed that the nobles of the First Tier had risen from their seats so that they could drop to one knee themselves. Jackie saw most of them bowing their heads, but as per protocol instruction, she did not lower hers. Neither did the Grand High Ambassadors—she recognized the current Tlassian equivalent of their Grand High Ambassador, Warrior-Envoy S’ssull, who knelt with his head held level and his gaze steady—nor did any of the members of the Imperial Family who were direct descendants, she saw.

The Imperial Heir, Princess Vi’alla, was introduced next, then the Imperial Consort, a handsome older man named Te-los, followed by the other four Imperial offspring. Jackie
smiled a little more warmly at Li’eth’s introduction, though they used his first name, Kah’raman. The Imperial Matron came next, followed by the Royal Consorts, and a fellow with the title of Consort Royal—something to do with begetting heirs with Ah’nan and her wife.

Shi’ol had given the Terrans an explanation in Terran quarantine, but Jackie had only listened to it with half an ear at the time; the official explanation during their time in V’Dan quarantine hadn’t exactly stuck, either, but then she’d been far more busy trying to work out the logistics of introductions and arranging how the embassy would function, and drafting initial proposals for all the meetings that would come. It had sounded vaguely sensible at the time, which was good enough for her.

For her own life, Jackie had Li’eth . . . once they got past all the cultural and protocol hurdles. There’d be no need for a consort heir-begetter at that point, since the two of them were the same species and initial genetics tests had shown the two factions should still be able to interbreed just fine. Once they got around to it, of course. If they wanted to have children; she and Li’eth had yet to discuss that possibility.

Finally, the signal was given for the people to rise and for most of them to resume their seats. Pushing to her feet, Jackie ignored her slightly throbbing knee. Long minutes of kneeling on hard, cold stone hadn’t helped things. She longed to rub the spot, maybe warm it up, but had to stand there looking serene.

“Eternity, Sovereign of V’Dan, before you now stand new potential allies to the Eternal Empire and the Alliance. Will you grant them your permission to be known unto you, unto your people, and unto your allies?” Master of Ceremonies intoned.

“I will,” Empress Hana’ka stated. Her voice echoed down through the layers of plazas, amplified and projected from the screens on either side. “Let the Blood be seated.”

A gesture of her hand, and something emerged out of the stones behind the Imperial Family. A massive gold-and-ruby throne for her, with somewhat lesser but still heavily gilded chairs for her heir and her husband, and equally ornate, cushioned, backed benches for the rest. They sat arrayed in a curve like the shell of the temple wall and its semicircular ranks of golden granite columns behind them.

Jackie had another glimpse of that sarocophagus deep inside the temple, and realized where the light was coming from. It pooled down from a great, pale golden crystal for a capstone set on the peak of the roof. Yes, the clouds were still delivering snowflakes but those clouds were lightening up, growing paler and brighter as they shed their load while moving past the capital. She filed that away for later, though, only briefly wondering if she’d get a chance to look at that innermost room some other time. She had to concentrate, now.

“Eternity. V’Daania. U’V’Dan,” Master of Ceremonies intoned, using the most formal name of their people, double-articled pronoun and all. “Standing before you now are the people of our eldest legends, the sons and daughters of the True Motherworld, descendants of the survivors of the Before Time who were left behind to guard our ancestral origins. These are the
Terrans
, the people of the Terran United Planets, our ancient, lost kin.”

It was rather backwards to put it that way to Jackie’s point of view, since “V’Dan” itself literally meant “The Lost,” and her own people had never lost their homeworld in exchange for another place, but she wasn’t going to quibble over tiny semantics.

“Standing before you are the guardians of these people, the Terran United Planets Space Force
Marines
. They stand before you in the Black of Space and the Brown of mud, where water meets land.”

Oh thank goodness, he got it right.
She had put Darian Johnston in charge of making text-and-audio pronunciation files for Master of Ceremonies, since he had the most blended and thus most easily understood accent of the five linguists in the embassy.

“They are the Elite Guard of the Terran Armed Forces, and are led by Captain Hamza, son of Tariq, son of Ioseph, of the family al-Fulan.”

Captain al-Fulan took three steps forward and bowed crisply.

“At their side are their brothers and sisters in war, the Terran United Planets Space Force Navy, led by Commander Robert Graves, one of the brave rescuers of the survivors of the Imperial Warship
T’un Tunn G’Deth
.”

Robert strode three steps forward as well, stopping equal with al-Fulan. He, too, bowed.

“They and the might of their military come before you with the wish to greet you now with a
haka
, a traditional war dance of one of the regions of the Motherworld formerly under the command of Colonel Jacaranda MacKenzie, chief rescuer of the survivors of the
T’un Tunn G’Deth
. Do they have your permission to perform this ceremony exhibiting their might and their bravery, Eternity?”

“They do.”

Captain al-Fulan broke formation with a crisp right turn, took two steps forward, turned right again to face the Terrans, and hollered strongly,
“Taringa whackarongo! Taringa whackarongooo!”

That was her cue. Closing her eyes, Jackie dropped to her knees visually. Her white dress shattered outward in a silent explosion of snowflakes. Fireworks whistled up overhead, exploded, and formed rippling banners of V’Dan lettering, evoking gasps from the crowd.

The lettering was a translation of his shout.
“Listen now with your ears! Listen now with your ears!”

More explosions set off behind her, each Tier plaza getting its own set of translation banners while the camera views on the projection screens split briefly in chaos before following the captain, the lettering, and herself . . . standing now before everyone in formal Dress Blacks striped with Gray for the Special Forces, Blue for the Navy, and Brown for the Marines, all of whom had been put under her command in this system.

Thrusting up her hand, she let out a ferocious-sounding scream and grasped an archaic war-spear that materialized out of the air in a flash of light. It was a brutal-looking thing, fashioned from hard wood lined with shark’s teeth and decorated with long leaves and bright feathers. The crowd gasped and called out in shock. Even the Empress raised her eyebrows, as did most of her family. Only Imperial Prince Kah’raman remained calm. Serene, even, with a little smile playing around his lips.

Jackie didn’t exactly see it, though she could feel it through their link. She had her role to play, and did so with a strong shout.

“Kia rite!”
Overhead, the lettering shifted, scrawling
Prepare yourselves!
The woman in Dress Blacks with three stripes
down the sleeves and trousers, medals clustered on the left side of her chest, charged forward with a scream, moving to the forefront of the two officers. She skidded to a stop and repeated her yell, letting it echo off the temple walls, spear raised sideways to the Imperial Family since they weren’t actively threatening anyone, just demonstrating their power and their will to do so if necessary.
“Kiaaaa riteeeee!”

Graves and al-Fulan yelled out the next two commands, one after the other.
Hands on your hips! Bend your knees!
With a group yell, the Marines and the Navy personnel immediately shifted so that they all faced outward, dropping into a broad-footed stance, crouching with their hands fisted and forearms parallel across their chests, one hovered over the other. All of them made faces, teeth bared, eyes rolling, some flicking out their tongues.

Needless to say, it startled the V’Dan. The contrast between the black-clad warriors and their colorfully clad, calmly smiling civilian counterparts emphasized their fierce expressions. Words blossomed overhead when al-Fulan continued.
Slap your hands on your thighs, giving all mighty blows!
It was not an exact translation, but rather meant to get the full context across.
Stomp your feet—stomp your foes—as hard as you can!

Hands raised and ankles raised, only to drop in hard, palm-slapping, heel-smacking blows. Jackie shook and slashed her spear while the others moved in unison. Rhythmically, the two groups of soldiers chanted in three beats with a long-drawn vowel,
As hard as we can! We take all we can!
Palms slapped legs twice, then their chests, then lifted to the sky.
I fight! I die! I live! We fight! We die! We live!
Fingers shifting into fists, the uniformed men and women punched the air in front of them.
This is the strongest of beings, who fought and has fetched down the Sun, causing it to shine again!

They dropped to one knee with a hiss, and Jackie called out again in Maori, writing the translation large overhead.
We capture the sun and the stars! We fight from the ground to the sky!
The Marines repeated her words, pumping their fists toward the flagstones and slapping their elbows with more fierce looks, shouting
We fight from the ground!
The Navy overlapped them halfway through, rising with their fists thrust
in the air.
We fight through the sky!
Jackie outlined the golden words with brown and with blue. Each group repeated their line a second time, then all of them resumed the half-crouched stance of before, slapping their forearms, their biceps, their chests, all while chanting and shuffling forward one broad step at a time.
One upward step! Overcoming obstacles! Another upward step! Overcoming all foes! Another step up—the Sun shines on us!

It would have been dramatically perfect if the sky had cleared enough for a real ray of sunshine to beam down to them at that moment. They had to make do with Jackie spinning her spear and pointing up and off to the south, where a false ray of sun glowed upon their group like a broad spotlight, just as everyone shouted,
Dawn! (Survival! Victory!)
, and posed with yet more fierce glares and threatening gestures. A beat later, all of the crouching soldiers straightened back into upright stances. One, two, three, four steps backwards, some larger, some smaller, all in crisp military precision, and they returned to a crisp, rectangular line guarding the still-calm Terran civilians in their midst.

Black-booted toes touched the broad flagstones the moment everyone was in place; those who faced backwards or to the side spun to face forward. Jackie herself spun in a circle and dropped like a pile of sand, her black-uniformed body vanishing in a puffed ring of dark, quickly dissipating smoke. Her real body, on its knees all this time, pushed upward in a billow of white fog that curled up, floated out, and vanished into air, leaving her standing in her white civilian clothes. Making herself—her true body—invisible was not easy, but the white surfaces allowed her to bend light holokinetically around her body more effectively than black or any other shade could. Overhead, the last bolded word and its subtexts faded like golden fog.

Immense cheers and screams burst out from the lowest Tiers, rippling forward all the way to the First Tier Plaza.

(
That was
magnificent
!
) Li’eth praised her through the hubbub. Warm subthoughts wrapped around her psyche like a hug. (
The cameras picked up two at the rear who drew their swords and licked the blades. That was
truly
intimidating at that size on the screens—you couldn’t have seen it from here,
I think, but Grand Captain Tes’rin was biting his lip, trying not to grin at the display. The auras of the Elites are all very impressed! . . . Of course, they think you’re crazy, but it’s the kind of crazy the military can respect.
)

(
Good,
) she returned. Her earpieces had shifted when she had dropped to her knees to conserve strength and allow herself to concentrate. She tucked them back into place as discreetly as she could; she needed them for later. (
Good. I wasn’t expecting to have to project words so far away. I’m glad I get a little break before the next presentation. And you can tell the grand captain that this is the
short
version of a war-themed
haka
. The march-out version includes full description of battle weapons used—modern and archaic—plus threats of what will happen to the bodies and souls of our enemies, and how we will humiliate them with tricks that are “older than the Moon.”
)