The V'Dan (4 page)

That, she could handle easily. “As is our military custom, they will ask permission to come aboard, and when it is given, they will expect an introduction to the officer on deck, meaning the person in charge of the hangar bay. Captain al-Fulan will offer a salute in the Terran fashion, since he is a visiting officer. Your people may use the V’Dan version in return, as His Highness has agreed with me that both are meant as a similar symbol of respect. After that, he will introduce Dr. Jai Du, who will accompany his team as they investigate.

“They will then expect to be shown all over, have all the basic procedures for safety drills demonstrated, their questions answered, and when the captain says it is safe, the rest of us will begin disembarking and off-loading supplies. At that point, the only thing you need do is have whoever is in charge of the
quarantine procedures welcome me aboard as an Ambassador—literally, just say ‘Welcome aboard, Ambassador,’ or however you wish to phrase it—and welcome the others aboard.

“At that point, we’ll just expect you to run our people through the safety drills and explanations, show us where to stow our equipment, that sort of thing. Simple and efficient. This is quarantine, after all,” she finished, “not a grand introduction to your Empress. That comes later, and can be conducted with full ceremony at that time.”

Ksa’an hesitated, then dipped his head to the side a little. “I will admit I have not done any formal greeting ceremonies under quarantine situations before. It has not been needed in decades. But if you will find no offense in such an . . . abbreviated greeting as you outline,” he allowed, “then that could be acceptable.”

“We Terrans will take no offense so long as we are all polite to each other,” she reassured him.

“Ambassador, if you are done speaking with their protocol officer,” Robert called out in the pause in their conversation, “we are now safely parked, and
Embassy 2
is coming in for a landing behind us.”

“Thank you, Commander. Meioa, if we have satisfied the preliminary needs of protocol, I shall contact Captain al-Fulan to let him know he will be free to board the station upon his arrival.”

“Of course, meioa—welcome aboard, Grand High Ambassador Maq’Enzi,” he added politely, giving her name a V’Dan twist to its pronunciation . . . and not quite the same one Li’eth had used. The transmission ended.

Sighing, Jackie shook her head to clear it and typed in the link to the
2
. “Time to let al-Fulan know he can start checking off the items on his lists.”

(
It’s only going to get worse from here on out,
) Li’eth comforted her, in a backwards jesting way. (
Our military’s protocols aren’t that much different from your own because so many even of our officers are commoners by birth and etiquette . . . but the civilian sector . . .
)

She reached over and squeezed his hand gently, letting their intertwined fingers rest on the edge of the console. The gravity was still less than Earth Standard by about two-thirds, but that
was understandable, as it no doubt allowed the incoming ships to maneuver with less wasted fuel. On one of her tertiary screens at the bottom of the main trio, she could see an analysis of the molecules on board, more of the same sort of highly complex, potentially toxic petrochemicals the Salik had used. Not exactly an abundant fuel source when compared to clean, pure water, let alone a safe one. She knew that Maria, their chief doctor, was worried about their exposure to those long-abandoned chemicals. Petrochemicals on Earth were synthesized strictly for lubrication and hydraulic needs, not as a fuel source.

Aside from certain basic needs, everything was different here. Everything was going to be different in how those needs were met. Some of them were needs the V’Dan simply hadn’t considered but might be able to supply once they were addressed. Some were going to be things they hadn’t even dreamt of, yet . . . or might even balk at providing.

(
We’ll try to be ready for it,
) she reassured him. (
And try to be understanding whenever a conflict comes up.
)

—

“And this,” their contamination-suited guide stated, gesturing at a door painted a paler shade of gray in the shades-of-gray halls around them, “will be your quarters, Ambassador. Now, if Your Highness will come with me, I will show you to your own suite.”

Li’eth frowned at the man. “I was told in our communications that the
Dusk Army
’s quarantine sector only has twenty cabins, two bunks apiece. Between the V’Dan of my surviving crew and the numbers of the Terrans, we have two hundred people in need of places to sleep. I thought I made it clear that we were all willing to share to ensure the comfort of our guests.”

“. . . Yes, Your Highness,” the masked, enclosed figure stated after a brief but palpable hesitation. “We have arranged for the Grand High Ambassador to have a private room, and for you to have a private room, as is proper for your station. The rest will all share quarters in rotation, or sleep on their ships. As was indicated.”

“Then why are we wasting space with two of us having separate quarters from the rest?” he asked. It was hard to see the other man’s face through the silvered plate of his protective
suit, but Li’eth could sense that the man’s aura was the sort of dull, muddy gray associated with a blank, uncomprehending stare. Jackie’s aura was mostly calm tinged with a touch of impatience, and the Terran soldier behind her had an air and aura of alert boredom. He returned his gaze to the quarantine worker. “At the very least, I should be sharing my quarters with Leftenants Superior Ba’oul Des’n-yi and V’kol Kos’q.”

“They . . . are Leftenants Superior, Your Highness. You are Imperial Tier, and they are Second Tier. It would not be appropriate,” the other man finally stated, his tone cautious, as if he was trying not to offend someone who had lost his wits.

“I am
also
a Second Tier officer,” Li’eth returned. “If it will ensure that two sleeping schedules are freed up on one bed so that two more Terrans do not have to sleep on a floor or in zero gravity, I will share my cabin with my fellow officers.”

(
Wait, you picked the wrong people,
) Jackie cautioned him, while the other man processed that suggestion. (
If they’ve changed this, then they may have changed something else.
) She addressed the quarantine aide aloud. “On a related note, I specifically requested that the
telepaths
who accompanied us—what you would call holy ones, with the ability to speak mind-to-mind—be given separate quarters from the rest. Did you set aside a cabin for them?”

“Ah . . .” That, too, was a question that seemed to faze him.

“If he is indeed willing to share with others, technically His Highness and I should share our cabins with the other holy ones. Two males and two females,” Jackie clarified. “It is a point of Terran protocol that
psychics
—what you call holy ones—be given quarters separate from those without such gifts whenever they will be confined in close quarters with many others for more than just a day or two.”

The quarantine worker eyed her, then turned to look at Li’eth, his flexible suit twisting slightly. Li’eth nodded. “I am willing to share with my fellow holy ones.”

“Your Highness, that would be highly—”

“—The Terrans’ understanding of holy ones and holy powers is vastly advanced compared to our own,” he stated, interrupting the inevitable, protocol-based protest. “In anything relating to holy powers, they
are
the authority. Arrange things as the Grand High Ambassador directs. I will share my quarters
with the two male holy ones, and she with the two females. That will free up four sleeping shifts for four more Terrans.”

The man hesitated like he wanted to protest, but sighed and gestured for the prince to follow him. Li’eth sighed mentally. (
I think I have been in the military too long . . .
)

Pressing the button on the doorframe, Jackie stepped into a cabin only slightly larger than the previous ones she had seen her fellow Terrans being guided into, with two bunks built into one wall, a narrowish long couch along the other, a door at the back for the bathing facilities, and two square-and-beam arrangements on the wall behind the couch that could swing down as a pair of tables. More shades of gray were livened by beige bedding and beige cushions with the same sort of easily wiped surfaces as the Terrans used, though she had no clue what kind of material it was.

(
Why do you think you’ve been in the military too long?
) she asked.

(
Because while the military does have a Tier system, it’s considerably more practical and pragmatic in how it handles various matters than V’Dan civilian life tends to be. I had forgotten how rigid and confining it could be, to be near the top of the Imperial Tier instead of near the bottom of the Second,
) Li’eth explained, moving away from her cabin door. His guide hadn’t gone far, just around the corner and down a short distance.

At a gesture from the suited guide, he stepped inside his own quarters and shared the awareness that the only differences between his and hers were that his quarters had an actual desk with a workstation between the door and the bunk, the sofa had three individual tables that could be pulled down, and the cushions and bedding were light blue, which blended in more pleasantly than beige, given the dull pewter gray of the walls.

(
So that’s the difference between our suites? An extra table and a desk?
) Jackie asked, reading his subthoughts.

(
And blue blankets and cushion covers.
)

(
I’ll be booted if I’ll ask permission of our hosts—mind if I move in with you, and relegate the other psis to this room?
) she quipped. (
I like orange, not beige, but blue will do in a pinch.
)

(
It . . . wouldn’t be diplomatic. We cannot appear to be living together. At least, not until my people grasp the fact that
your
people are indeed adults,
) he reminded her.

(
Yes, yes, the inherent visual prejudice of your people toward the
jungen
less,
) she sighed. Finding a locker, she stowed her kit bag. (
I’m going to contact the other four. Thank you for being willing to share your quarters with Darian and Clees. Just gently remind Clees he is
not
allowed to take any pictures whatsoever while you’re in your shared quarters. I’ll do it from my end, too.
)

(
You Terrans and your nearly compulsive need to record every moment of your lives,
) Li’eth teased lightly. (
Why do you do that, anyway?
)

(
You’ve mostly seen the government side of things; civilian life is a little bit more circumspect,
) Jackie explained. (
The government has to be transparent and open for everything but security secrets. We dealt with . . .
)

(
. . . Too much corruption in your past. Yes, I paid attention to the history overview lectures,
) Li’eth returned. (
You will be recorded here, but it will be like your quarantine, for medical and safety reasons. Those reviewing the footage will be reluctant to do so particularly in the privacy of your quarters because of the lack of
jungen
.
)

(
And again, we get back to this simple, singular difference. I’m
hoping
it won’t be that bad, Li’eth,
) she told him. (
But I’m not holding my breath.
)

He found a similar cupboard for his own gear. (
I wouldn’t advise it, no. We’re supposed to be able to overlook such things, but I’m not going to hold my breath, either. I suspect no one will know how good or bad our reactions will be until they are put to the test.
)

An alarm blared, startling both of them. A voice came over the intercoms, belonging to Dr. Du, speaking in swift but crisp V’Dan, then again in Terranglo. “
Emergency! Dr. Maria to the kitchen immediately, and bring your
epi kit
! Emergency! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately!
Code Blue! Dr. Maria to the kitchen with an epi kit, stat! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately!”

(
?!?
)

Dashing out of her quarters, Jackie cast out her mind as she ran. She sorted through the babble of confused, startled, and worried minds, and zeroed in on a desperate, panicked set of thoughts, strong enough that Jackie could
feel
the clogging of her lungs, making it seem like she had to struggle to breathe even as she sucked in full lungfuls of air. Behind her, she could hear another set of running boots and sensed Li’eth catching up.

They entered the large kitchen area and skidded to a stop, Jackie bumping into a counter and Li’eth grabbing onto her. The prince blinked down at the sight of a group of Terrans huddled around one of their members, a youngish woman with curly brown hair and almost V’Dan golden skin. Her face and throat were blotchy and swollen, her body contorting as she wheezed with wild-eyed desperation for air. Maria de la Santoya, the first Terran doctor he had ever met, skidded into the galley from a different doorway, a silver-sided case in her hand. She scrambled to the fallen girl—woman, Li’eth corrected himself—and quickly flicked open the latches. A babble of words spat from her mouth, words he didn’t understand.

Jackie did; it was Spanish. She quickly translated it into V’Dan, knowing that the doctor was too focused on her patient, checking pulse, eyelids, testing the puffiness swelling her face. “What did she eat? Does anyone know if she ate or drank anything?”

“The corporal said she was hungry, sir,” one of the men kneeling by the patient responded. Li’eth realized both were in very similar brown or mottled brown-and-beige uniforms, as were the other six in the room. “She tried one of the fruits. I tried it, too, and it tasted good, but kinda hot and peppery—that red one, like a red pear but with the three lobes at the bottom?”

Jackie eyed the bowl he pointed to, and shook her head. “That’s a V’Dan fruit. I’ve seen just about every kind there is on Earth, and that’s not one of ours.”