The V'Dan (38 page)

She got a mental chuckle in return.

MAY 22, 2287 C.E.
JANVA 16, 9508 V.D.S.

The twenty or so priests and priestesses, she expected. Li’eth, she expected, too. This was, after all, a session scheduled and arranged to explain, demonstrate, and teach the absolute basics of Terran-style holy-gift wrangling. But when she entered the medium-sized reception room set aside for such classes, Jackie had not expected to see Li’eth’s father.

Both men were clad formally, Li’eth in his uniform, his father in that uniform-like style that most V’Dan wore, though his outfit was some sort of fabric with a slight, satiny sheen to it that had been dyed in shades of light and dark brown. The color contrasted richly with the pale pastel layers worn by the priesthood standing and sitting in clusters around the room, and, of
course, proved a definite contrast to the simpler lines the Terrans were wearing, such as her own peach-and-rose pantsuit.

A quick glance around the room showed they were missing only two Terrans, Aixa and Clees. Swerving toward the prince and his father, she moved to greet them first as the highest-ranking people present. “Imperial Consort Te-los, we are honored by your presence, and particularly by your interest in learning Terran mental disciplines. You have my personal reassurances that we will do all that we can to honor and respect your trust in us.”

“I have had the opportunity to question my son and learn of the training you gave him, Grand High Ambassador,” Te-los said. “I can sense how much more powerful he has grown with just a few months of that training. His mind is now closed to me whenever we touch. I should like to gain that ability for myself.”

“You will gain it if you pay attention and practice the techniques we will teach . . . but please, when the moment is not formal, call me Jackie,” she offered.

He smiled and bowed slightly. “I would be honored.”

“Good. And good morning to you, Li’eth,” she added, turning to his son. She reached up a hand to touch his face, since that was the most skin showing. He returned the gesture, stepping close and lowering his forehead to hers.

(
Good morning.
) He sighed, the sound more sleepy and content than he physically looked. At her subthought inquiry, he explained, (
More nightmares about the Salik pens. I didn’t sleep well.
)

(
Well, greet me out loud so we’re not being rude to the untrained and the nontelepaths in the room, and we’ll get going soon. Hopefully, you can sort out and smooth out the unsettled feelings during the grounding and centering exercises.
)

(
Yes, meioa.
) He smiled and pulled his head back, though he still cupped her cheek. “Good morning, Jackie. Are we ready to begin?”

“We’re still waiting for Aixa and Heracles. It’s a full morning session with a lot of people, so we’ll need all five telepaths on hand. And I should go greet the highest-ranked priests, now,” she added. Reluctantly removing her hand, she moved away from the two men.

(
We’re going to follow you, to ensure you have a subtle show of Imperial Blood approval at your back,
) Li’eth warned her. He still sounded sleepy, but also content and amused. Like a big cat getting ready to purr. (
Father truly is impressed by the changes in my abilities, but then he knows the most about how they used to be.
)

(
Understood.
) Approaching one of the most familiar robed figures in the room, a dark-skinned woman with pink spots that trailed down the edges of her hairline and vanished into the collars of her layered clothes, Jackie smiled at her. “High Priestess Tar’eth Truthspeaker. It is good to see you again. It is even better to see you without having to be in quarantine at the time. I am glad you are here, willing to learn Terran techniques.”

The older woman lifted her head, looking down at Jackie. Not because she was taller—she was actually about the same height as Jackie, 165 centimeters at most—but as a sort of affectation. Finally, she lowered her chin. “You speak the truth. I am glad to see that.”

Drawing in a slow, deep breath, Jackie smiled, and merely said, “If you keep an open mind and a willingness to learn, then in time, you will come to understand us better. For instance, we do not lie about such things. It would be counterproductive.”

The other person she meant to greet drifted their way. “Grand High Ambassador.”

“Superior Priest De’arth of the Open Mind,” Jackie greeted formally. “Welcome to the Terran embassy. I hope you, too, will find great value in our teachings today.”

“That remains to be seen,” he stated skeptically. Then blinked and flushed, looking past her shoulder. “Imperial Consort Te-los . . . Imperial Prince Kah’raman. Good morning, Your Highnesses.”

Jackie stiffened, feeling the priest reaching toward Li’eth’s father with mental fingers. Throwing up a shield between the two men, she narrowed her eyes. “High Priest, what you are doing is
extremely
rude.”

The tendrils splayed out to either side, trying to find a way past her interference. Quirking one of his brown eyebrows, the brown-squiggled, pale-skinned priest asked, “What do you mean?”

“Everything and everyone within this embassy zone is to be considered under Terran law, by command of Empress Hana’ka V’Daania . . . and we have laws about
psychic
conduct, High Priest,” she informed him. “Among those are rules about
not
probing anyone else’s mind without their permission. I can see with my inner eye how your gifts are reaching out from you toward the Imperial Consort. He is here under
my
protection, and while he is here,
no one
will touch his mind without his clearly and freely expressed consent, given in advance.”

“I still don’t know what—
ah!
” he gasped, as Darian joined them.

The expression on the young, dark-skinned man’s face was stern, bordering on cold. “
I
can see it, too—and I am the one who smacked your probes this time. You
will
learn appropriate behavior.”

“You two remember meeting before, yes? If not, meioas, this is Darian Johnston, an officer in our military and a strong
psi
, a holy one in your terminology,” she stated, gesturing toward the newcomer. He was a stark contrast to everyone else in the room but Min, as both of them were clad in camouflage grays, button-up shirts tucked into trousers, both sets newly issued for this mission. “Darian, I believe you remember Superior Priest De’arth of the Winter Temple, and High Priestess Tar’eth of the Spring Temple.”

“I remember. I also remember you had to have your mental fingers smacked at our original meeting, for reaching when you had no permission to do so,” Darian added, eyeing the older man. “I trust you are willing to learn, and use, proper mental discipline through our classes?”

De’arth straightened his shoulders and looked down at the slightly shorter man. “I am a high-ranking priest of the Winter Temple!”

“You have the self-control of an infant,” Darian stated bluntly. “Close your mouth and open your ears, and you will finally learn a few things. Your religion means nothing to me, and your rank means nothing to me. The only way you will impress me is by how carefully and thoroughly you do learn, today.”

“You will find, Superior Priest, that all of us hold that
general sort of opinion,” Jackie said before De’arth could speak. She raised her voice by tightening her gut, projecting to the rest of the room without actually shouting. “Your training is inadequate by our standards. We are not impressed by your rank, and we are not going to be swayed by any mysticism. We are here to teach. If you are not here to learn, and learn with the respect due to your teachers, then you should leave.

“We will have no students in this class who are not here of their own free will,” she added. Aixa entered the room, slowed to look around, then shrugged and moved to join the two psis while Jackie spoke. “But do understand that we will also
not
permit anyone to violate the right to mental privacy all sentient beings possess. Not in our presence. We will stop you, and warn your target of your attempts, unless and until we hear you request and receive permission to continue from your target in our presence. We will also continue to monitor you to ensure that, in your imperfectly trained attempts, you do not injure any such willing targets.”

Min joined them, adding to the conversation. “Our rules are very strict on proper psychic behavior. If you stay, you will learn them. If you leave . . . you will still be subject to them in our presence.” She let that sink in a moment, then softened her expression into a modest, wry smile. “We have only a few classroom rules. While a subject is being taught, the only teacher in the room
is
the teacher; all others are students, or assistants appointed by the teacher.”

“We will be strict but reasonably fair,” Darian added. “If you need help, ask and we will assist you. If you think you know how to do something . . .
ask us
before you do it because we want to help you learn how to do it in the best and most efficient, useful ways. That means watching what you do. You might know a good technique, or you might not. It might even be something we have not considered, though the chances of that are admittedly rare.”

“Above all,” Aixa stated, “we
do
want to help your people learn these things.” She fixed her gaze on the Winter priest. “We guarantee that if you pay attention, follow our instructions, and practice carefully, you will see significant, palpable increases in your abilities . . . which will become a great benefit to your nation when wielded wisely.”

“With that said, everyone please move over there,” Jackie ordered, pointing to her left to a clear spot near the door. “Please take your belongings with you, too. I am going to rearrange the furniture while we await the arrival of Heracles, our official instructor in these abilities.”

“You are not the teacher?” Tar’eth asked, raising her brows.

“I am the strongest psi in the embassy, but that does not make me the best teacher. I will be helping him, as will Aixa, Darian, and Min, but Heracles Panaklion is a fully trained, licensed, and experienced instructor in psychic abilities. Please move to that space by the door, now.”

Tar’eth nodded, gave her a slight bow . . . and planted her dark hand on De’arth’s pastel-covered shoulder to get him to move when he lingered. When the others were out of her way, Jackie looked over the waiting furniture. It had been arranged in conversational clusters, which was fine for a reception or a party but not as useful for a group lecture. Thinking for a few moments, she finally held up her palm and lifted most of the furniture, one piece after the other, until they were all floating. As she did so, the conversations of the others died out.

The V’Dan equivalents of end tables and coffee tables moved out of the way, stacking at the far end of the room. In near silence, Jackie worked patiently, carefully, not wanting to damage the furnishings. While the couches moved back against the far wall, all but five chairs arranged themselves in nested semicircles. Those five chairs, she sent up high and left them hovering in silence. As soon as the other chairs and sofas touched down, a few small tables returned to rest between some of the seats, but most stayed along the back wall.

Once they were down, throw pillows floated off the sofas under her silent command. More came soaring slowly out from a stack in the near corner. Those, too, arranged themselves in neat curves with spaces in between. Jackie cleared her throat, dragging her gawking audience’s attention back to her. “Please find a seat, whether it’s on a chair or down on the floor, whichever you prefer, and make yourselves comfortable.”

“What about those hovering chairs?” Te-los asked warily, pointing up toward the floating furniture.

“I’ll be bringing them down where everyone is standing as soon as everyone moves,” she explained. “Those are for the instructors to use—you need not fear an injury, Highness. So long as no one tries to attack me, my control is absolute. If someone did try, I might throw one at them in self-defense, but I doubt anyone is going to do that. Everyone, please take a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

Min stepped forward as the others moved toward the indicated areas. “Don’t forget to loosen your clothing. If you are warm, feel free to take off an outer layer if you like. This is not a formal feast or a presentation before your Empress. This is a classroom. In the act of concentrating, some of you may find your body temperature rising, so please be ready to reduce layers if need be. In fact, the more comfortable you get yourselves now, the fewer distractions you will have plaguing you.

“We will be getting more comfortable, too.” She demonstrated by unbuttoning her own shirt; pulling it out of her trousers, she showed the plain gray tank top underneath. Muscles flexed in her arms as the young Asian woman neatly folded and rolled her camouflage shirt. “So long as you are covered from shoulders to thighs, you will be perfectly decent by Terran standards for this exercise.”

There were now enough people out of Jackie’s way. She brought the five chairs over everyone’s head, ignoring those who startled and ducked out of the way; the ceilings were more than four meters high on this level, which meant plenty of room for telekinetic furniture arranging. She even brought over a couple of end tables to settle between the chairs. Just as
she brought the last chair down into place, a purple-toned pink affair with rounded armrests and a sort of leatherlike covering, Clees entered the room.

He did so juggling a briefcase, two pads, and trailing four hovercameras. Two of the hovering machines belonged to the Terran control pad in his left hand, which he thrust at Darian. The other two belonged to the V’Dan version, which he held out to Jackie. Finished with her task of furniture shuffling, she accepted it.

“Put those somewhere where they have an excellent view of the room and can pick up the sound fairly well, please?” he requested both of them. He set down his briefcase as soon as they had the pads, and turned to the others. “We are all here to learn Terran-style holy-gift control, yes? Good! In fact, it is
good
to see so many people here for today’s introductory class to Terran-style lessons in
psychic
abilities.”

(
I was thinking about setting one of each type on each side—those two tall lamp things look like they have flat surfaces for their support struts,
) Darian suggested to Jackie. She nodded in return, and they each positioned a hovercam there. She had to turn both lamps a little so that they had unobstructed views, but the split-screen projections on each pad showed an excellent broad swath of the chamber and its occupants.

Gesturing at himself, clad in an off-white suit with a dark gray shirt and matching shoes, their instructor introduced himself. “I am Heracles Panaklion of the Psi League—you may call me Clees if you like—and I come from the land of Greece, which was the birthplace of several important concepts that have shaped our modern life—everything from common citizens being able to vote on laws, to attempts at defining life, the universe, and everything in between . . . to the very important task of applying a scientific, logical, empirical-evidence-based approach to how we try to grasp and understand the events and ways of everything around us.”

Done with positioning the cameras, Jackie set her pad down on the nearest table. As the older man continued, she unbuttoned her rose-hued jacket. Peeling it off, she draped it over the back of one of the chairs, revealing her sleeveless peach top, dusky, tanned arms, and the tattoo marks over and around her right shoulder and arm.

“This science-based approach may seem shocking to those of you who come from a system of training that has been deeply rooted in mysticism for thousands of years,” Clees continued, pacing a little with a finger raised. “But I assure you, it has been tested and proved to be quite effective. Today’s class will be four and a half hours long, and will focus on terminology and the absolute, most basic lessons that all
psis
—short for
psychic
or ‘holy one’—all of us have to learn.

“There will be lectures, discussion sections with question-and-answer periods, some questionnaires so that we can get an idea of what you can do, what you know about doing it, how you go about doing it, and how you feel about doing it. Plus water breaks, washroom breaks, and, of course, the all-important
practical
lessons in the three most basic arts of psychic-ability management, something we like to call grounding, centering, and shielding. This will be followed by a buffet-style luncheon provided by the embassy’s culinary staff.

“So, you will all have a chance to sample a variety of foods prepared the Terran way, as a reward for your good behavior and attentiveness. A good reward, yes?” he asked, grinning and spreading his hands. He received a few nods, and sighed, placing his hand over his heart. “No, no, my new friends, you must have
enthusiasm
for these lessons. You are all too stiff and formal—six of you are still standing, the rest of you are all seated in chairs . . . no, we shall challenge this!

“In order to learn, you must be comfortable. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. We are all here for the common cause of learning, yes? Then we all have something in common. This makes us all allies, for this learning is not a competition to tear each other down. Rather, you gain more when you help build each other up. So! While my assistant Aixa hands out some sheets with terminology printed on them for you to study and take with you,” Clees stated, opening his briefcase and handing a stack of papers to the older woman, “we shall begin by introducing each of your five teachers, starting with me, then moving on to the rest of you. We shall each mention at least two of our abilities,
and
we shall each of us mention something that we like, something we enjoy doing, or something we enjoy seeing each day.

“I am Cleese, I am a Rank 13 telepath—a speaker of
minds—and a Rank 7 clairvoyant and clairaudiant—that means I can see and hear things in places I send my mind, even when I do not send my body—and my favorite thing to do outside of my work with the psychically gifted is being an amateur videographer. As you can see, I have already arranged for two sets of cameras to record this session. The ones recorded with the Terran equipment will be used for our own purposes, primarily as a means of keeping track of all the things we have taught you, so that in future sessions, we can fill in any gaps before moving on to additional material.

“The ones recorded by the V’Dan equipment will be processed by kindness of the Elite Guard during our meal. They will then give you recordings to take with you as you leave. We are still in the process of translating the audio languages as well as supplying translation texts for them, but we do hope to have official Psi League training guides translated and made available within a few more months.” He turned and looked at Jackie. “Will you introduce yourself next, your name, some of your abilities—you don’t have to name all of them—and something about yourself?”

“Of course.” Nodding as he turned and seated himself, Jackie stood. “Hello, everyone. I am Jackie, and I am a Rank 15 telepath, a Rank 14 xenopath—I can communicate with alien minds, and read the thoughts of animals with higher intelligence capabilities—and as you have just seen, I am also a telekinetic, Rank 12, someone who can move objects without physically touching them.

“As for my hobbies and interests, I enjoy the watersport of surfing, which was developed by my ancient ancestors among the tropical islands of Hawai’i, which is where our capital is located. It involves using a lightweight, waterproof board of a specific shape to slide along the slopes of incoming ocean waves,” she explained. “I’m told your tides are a bit complicated because you have three smaller moons instead of one big one, but I am looking forward to riding the local waves someday.”

A young man in pale green robes edged with autumn leaves raised his hand, palm toward himself, V’Dan-style. Clees lifted his chin. “You have a question?”

“Yes. I understand you are all unmarked, which is strange to think of that as being natural, but you, Grand High
Ambassador, have been inked with tattoos. Why have you not marked your face and your hands to show you are an adult?” the priest asked. “Why only your shoulder, and with such strange marks?”

(
He means well,
) Li’eth quickly offered, while Jackie struggled to keep herself from rolling her eyes. (
He’s just ignorant.
)

(
Yes, I know.
) Out loud, she stated, “That is because they are
not
jungen
-style tattoo marks.” Turning sideways to the group, she pulled back the sleeve opening of her shirt, displaying as much as she could. “The line drawing in the center, of the eye shape with eight ‘rays’ splitting the center, is called the Radiant Eye. It is the symbol of the Psi League, the main nonreligious training and service organization for those with psychic abilities. I got the tattoo of it because I have been a member for several decades. It is inked in black because that is the official color and style, black on a plain background.

“The sprays of blue flowers draped around it are actual drawings of
jacaranda
flowers, which is where my first, or given, name comes from. The black pointy triangles surrounding those things are not triangles. They are the teeth of a shark, which is a fierce predator in the waters around the Hawai’ian Islands, the land of my mother’s mother’s people. In the custom of my mother’s people, a shark is seen as a powerful creature, and its teeth in a plain black tattoo means ‘protection.’

“There are three rings of shark’s teeth around the Radiant Eye and the jacaranda flowers because three times now I have faced off and sent fleeing the greatest enemy of my people, protecting our home system from their attacks. The center of my protective strength lies in my mental abilities, as represented by the Radiant Eye, yet I am also free to be as delicate and beautiful as a subtropical flower.

“These tattoos are filled with rich cultural and personal meaning. They are not meant to be color slathered on my skin in order to help others discern my physical age. I already have adult secondary sexual characteristics for that.” At his blank look, she clarified bluntly, “I have
breasts
for that. I don’t need a tattoo to show my age.”

He blushed and looked away.

Darian stripped off his outer shirt, rolled up the short sleeve of his tee shirt, and twisted in his seat, displaying his
own bicep. “My skin is a bit dark to see it easily, but if you look carefully, you can see that I, too, have a tattoo of the Radiant Eye.”

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Clees urged him.

“Right. I am
Lieutenant
First Class Darian Johnston—the equivalent of a Leftenant Superior—and I am a telepath, Rank 9, a xenopath of Rank 8, and I have a mix of talents that allow me to sense the history of an object and write down what its users were thinking about, if they ever thought about anything strongly. I can do this even in languages I myself do not know, and give a sense of what the symbols mean, if not an exact translation. I enjoy working with the military and plan to keep with it for as long as I am physically fit and mentally able. I guess you could call it my hobby as well as my career, because I love what I do.”

A nod from Clees, and Min introduced herself next. “I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Min Wang-Kurakawa. My rank is a fancy version of ‘ensign fresh out of the Academy,’ since before we left Earth, I had not yet served six months and am thus not eligible for any promotions just yet—Terran regulations state that you have to serve six months in a particular type of duty post before advancements can be considered, and this post is very different from the last one.

“I am also a Rank 9 telepath, though I cannot communicate with aliens. I can, however, communicate with and understand machines,” she added, flicking her almond-brown eyes over to her dark-skinned colleague. “Darian and I have been attempting to arrange for access to any chunks of Salik machinery that might contain important information. At the very least, I can link minds with him, and he can then draw diagrams of what I myself can sense, but not articulate or explain. I am hoping to learn the language of the Salik with the help of one of my xenopathic colleagues, either Darian, Aixa, or Jackie, so that I can more directly translate what I’ll be sensing. But that requires capturing and interrogating one,” she finished.

“And a hobby or an interest?” Clees prompted her.

Min blushed a little. “Right. I like dogs. They’re descendants of four-legged, domesticated, pack-minded predators known as wolves. They’re very kind and sweet and can be quite clever when well trained. If I were a xenopath, I’d have
gone into the military’s animal-handling corps, what we call
K-9
. The letter-and-number combination is a homophone—sounds similar to—the word
canine
, which is a fancy scientific name for the dog family.”

“We have dogs on V’Dan,” Te-los reassured her, smiling. “I prefer the company of hunting
gats
, myself, but we do have dogs here at the Winter Palace.”

“I, ah, I suppose that makes sense, if you only left ten thousand years ago, and our joint ancestors domesticated wolves into dogs around twenty to twenty-five thousand years ago,” Min allowed, blushing a little more. She cleared her throat and regained her composure, once more an officer and not an awkward young lady. “I hope I’ll have the chance to see some of your dogs, Highness.”

“Next?” Clees prompted.

“Ja, ja,”
Aixa dismissed. “I am Aixa Winkler, and I do not eat meat from animals smarter than a dumb fish because I am a powerful xenopath, Rank 11, as well as a xeno
empath
, Rank 7—which means I sense the emotions as well as the thoughts of many land animals and even some birds—and I have a degree in biology. I also have the ability to sense changes in the weather. We have been here only for a few days, but I can tell that we will most likely have heavy snowfall by tonight. So you had better travel carefully if you are going anywhere tonight.