by Rachel Ford
She nodded. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to show you up in front of the new brother-in-law.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thanks Magdalene. Thanks Kay. I really do appreciate it. Kudarians are – well, a lot less casual about dress than humans.” He shrugged. “And everything else, honestly.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I observed.
He frowned. “Why?”
“You’re probably the most chill person I know.”
“There’s a reason,” he reminded me, “I live on a spaceship. And not the home planet.”
“Is there anything else we should know?” Maggie wondered. “Any courtesies we should know about? Forms of address?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she added, “Secret handshakes?”
He laughed. “Yes to the first two. No to the last one. Unless they forgot to tell me about them too.”
“Alright. Well, we’ve got two days left. Teach us what we need to know, Frank.”
“Okay. Well, the first thing to keep in mind is most Kudarian gatherings involve food. It doesn’t matter if it’s a funeral, a wedding, a new birth or a housewarming: there’s going to be food there. A lot of it.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise me, and I told him as much.
He grinned. “But the important thing is, don’t ever refuse it. Even if you can’t eat it. To refuse what a host is offering is rude.”
“But not eating it isn’t?” Maggie wondered.
“No,” he shook his head. “As long as you taste it.” He spread his hands. “It conveys appreciation for the effort – even when you can’t eat the food, you’re tempted enough to taste it.”
“If it’s an expectation, though, surely the host knows that’s not an accurate reflection of your interest?” I wondered.
He nodded. “Of course. In the same way one human knows that another is not ‘living the dream’ when you ask how they’re doing. It’s an expected courtesy.”
“Ah. Okay: so, taste everything.”
“Yes. Unless it’s the first serving of the course. Then, you must eat it – all of it.”
“Why?”
“It’s a sign of honor paid by a host to a preferred guest. To leave any of the serving on the plate is to suggest that the honor is not felt entirely, or not worth acknowledging.”
“Oh. Okay, well I don’t want to do that.”
“No. Houses have gone to war over less.” He shrugged. “Back in the day. Nowadays, duels and interclan warfare are prohibited.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Well, that’s good.”
“But you could still make a lifelong enemy of someone by doing that.”
“I won’t,” I assured him.
“Good.”
“How many courses are there to a meal?” Maggie wondered.
Frank smiled sheepishly. “For a feast day or celebration dinner? At least ten. Remember, Captain, our metabolisms are much more active than yours.”
She whistled. “Wow. So, the moral of this story is: eat sparingly so you can make it through the full meal.”
“That is sound advice, actually. And since you are human, the expectations will be lower for you, of course.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think.”
“But not too low. You will be the first humans most of the people you meet will have ever seen.”
“Oh, so no pressure, then,” Maggie smirked. “We only risk starting a blood feud and poisoning an entire generation of Kudarians against the human race if we don’t mind our manners.”
He grinned. “Something like that, Captain.”
Chapter Six
Early on the second morning, we entered the Kudarian system. Sydney was controlling the bridge. He’d been thrilled to assume command earlier, and Maggie seemed relieved to be able to give him a test run, under supervision.
Predictably, he was doing just fine. But if it kept Mags from worrying about her beloved Black Flag, well, all the better.
Kudar’s sun was a yellow dwarf, similar in size to the star at the center of the solar system, and orbited by eleven planets. Three of the eleven were in the habitable zone of the system’s star, and distinct biospheres had evolved independently on all three. Of those three, only Kudar had produced sentient humanoids, the Kudarians.
With the advent of space travel, though, the other two planets – Kulri and Vi’rek – had been quickly colonized, and the distinctness of their plant and animal life soon lost. Kulrian bulls roamed the wilds of Vi’rek, Vi’reken apple trees popped up like weeds on the home planet and, Frank told us, Kudarian thistle became the bane of settlers on both new worlds. “It still is. There’s an entire weed killer industry for those two worlds, just to root out that damned thistle.”
Our path took us relatively close to the ninth and tenth planets, which were locked together in orbit around the sun. It was an unusual phenomenon, made all the more interesting by the pale blue of the two worlds.
“There’s nothing but ice there,” Frank explained. “At least, that’s all we’ve found. There’s so much ice it’s hard to know for sure. Faltine – that’s the one closest to the sun – is a water world. A frozen one, obviously. And Lirak is about half ocean, half land.” He shrugged. “All ice, but I mean under the ice there’s land.”
It was the sight of the three home worlds, though, that really put a smile on his face. They were, all three of them, lovely. Kulri was larger than the other two, with five lush continents covered in some of the densest, greenest growth I’d ever seen. Impressive, snowcapped mountain ranges divided three of the five continents, and the other two were dotted in huge bodies of water. Being on the further end of the habitable zone, Kulri was a colder planet, its winters longer and its summers briefer.
Vi’rek was a balanced blend of desert browns, ocean blues, and rainforest greens. Two great continents divided the ocean, spanning both sides of the globe and connected by the tiniest land bridge. At least, it looked tiny from our vantage as we passed it by. “That’s the Delvian Way. During monsoon years, the sea level rises so high that it completely disappears. But when the dry years come, it returns,” Frank noted.
Kudar was the central planet of the three, larger and lusher than Vi’rek and smaller and browner than Kulri. Frank grinned from ear-to-ear as we sat in orbit, waiting for permission from Kudarian air control to enter the atmosphere. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“It’s very pretty,” I agreed. It was. Gorgeous wisps of white cloud cover drifted lazily across its face, over emerald continents and sapphire oceans. It was the sort of world that made your heart skip a beat to behold. In the vast emptiness of space, with so many lifeless rocks and barren hellscapes out there, planets like this were rare. Even among inhabited worlds, they were few and far between. I’d never realized how lucky I was to grow up on Earth until I saw my fair share of other planets.
Kudar reminded me of Earth. It was as if nature had conspired to bring together the choicest examples of climate and terrain, of temperature and biosphere, on one place, for one people.
“Damned pretty,” I added.
“My family’s place is on the northern continent. But we’ll visit South Kudar too. There’s some waterways there you’ll want to see.”
“The fire flows?” I wondered. Frank had mentioned the rivers that burned red in the moonlight, bright as fire, more than once. He’d reminisced about the waterfalls that blazed in the darkness. It was due to a microscopic organism that lived in the warmer waters of the southern hemisphere. The species was harmless to other lifeforms, but its presence had fueled the imagination of early Kudarians for millennia.
He nodded. “That’s right. They burn red as fire because of the-”
“Krikari,” I finished with a smile. “A type of bioluminescent phytoplankton that only exists on the southern hemisphere of Kudar.”
He grinned at my recitation. “I’ve told you about them before, eh?”
“Once or twice,” I acknowledged. “And I can’t wait to see them.
”
Maggie shook her head, listening to our exchange. “I’ve been to this place before, and you know more about it than me, Kay.”
“Probably my fault,” Frank said, still grinning. “I haven’t stopped talking about it since I got the call to return.” He paused now, scrutinizing her. “But what’s this about you visiting Kudar before? You never told me.”
“No,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t.”
He frowned at this lack of elucidation, and so did I. “Well?” I prompted. “What brought you here before?”
“And, more particularly, who?” Frank asked. “Non-Kudarians aren’t allowed on-world without a sponsor. And as long as I’ve been onboard the Black Flag, I’ve been the only Kudarian on the crew.”
It was her turn to smile at us. “You old gossips. What do you care?”
This, of course, only fueled our interest – which was probably her goal. “Come on, babe. You can’t be that secretive and not expect us to be curious. Out with it.”
“Was it some kind of sordid business deal?” he teased.
“Ohhh, you weren’t a smuggler, were you?” I put in. Her nose wrinkled at the suggestion, and that was reward enough. “First a smuggler, then a privateer? Oh Maggie: for shame.”
“No, the captain’s too much a play-by-the-rules type for smuggling.” Frank grinned cheekily at her. “It was a girlfriend, wasn’t it?”
I laughed, but to my surprise, Maggie’s cheeks pinked. “Oh my God,” I said. “It was a girlfriend.”
“No,” she said, “it wasn’t. Dammit, you’re ridiculous, the pair of you: a couple of yentas.”
I brushed this off with a wave of my hand. “Dish, babe.”
She rolled her eyes, as much, I think, at my amusement as anything else. I was enjoying this, no doubt about it. It was not often that you could ruffle Maggie’s usual cool, collected calm. “It was to see a friend from my service days.”
“An army buddy?”
“That’s right,” she nodded.
“A lady, by any chance?” Frank wondered, his eyebrows dancing on his forehead suggestively.
Maggie turned a deeper shade of pink. “Yes, actually.”
“I knew it,” Frank grinned ear-to-ear.
“But she wasn’t my girlfriend. We were just friends. She was engaged, actually – to a man. A human man.”
“Ohh…” Frank’s tone grew a little less cavalier. “That must have been…interesting.”
Maggie nodded. “I was here – since you must know, you quidnuncs – as moral support. When she told her folks.”
“What happened?” I wondered.
She shrugged evasively. “It was messy.”
“How messy?”
“Well…messy enough that I almost ended up in prison.”
I blinked. “Holy shit, Mags. How could you not tell me this?”
“How could you not tell me?” Frank wondered.
She stared incredulously at us. “Because it’s none of your business.”
“No,” I acknowledged, “it’s not. But it sounds like a hell of a story.”
She shook her head, a grin spreading across her features. “It’s actually not as interesting as it sounds. She told her parents. Brek – her brother – lost his shit, started going on about family honor and – well, he had plenty of choice words for humans. They were from a warrior clan, and he saw marrying a human as an insult to their ancestors. He went to hit her. I broke his nose.”
Frank and I barked out a laugh at the same time. “Holy shit,” I repeated. “Then what happened?”
“He called the police. Her parents were going to back him up until Krila – that’s my friend – pointed out that he’d have to explain getting his ass handed to him by a human. He told the cops it was just a misunderstanding and sent them on their way. Like I said, not that exciting.”
She smirked, now, adding, “Although, strangely enough, it did help. Seeing their precious warrior laid flat on his arse by a ‘puny human’ gave them cause to re-evaluate their opinion on puny humans.”
“Did they get married? Krila and her human?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And her parents aren’t happy about it, but they still talk.” She shrugged. “The grandkids really helped. Even that ass Brek came around, after the second one was born. He half-apologized and everything.”
Frank laughed again. “I cannot believe you never told me that story, Captain. That is awesome.”
Chapter Seven
Sydney put the ship down flawlessly at dock echo-alpha-echo-fifteen – the coordinates we’d been given by air control. “Good job, Syd,” I said. “Once we’re off, wait until you get the go-ahead from control, and you can leave.”
“The ship is expected by twenty-three hundred hours, two days from now,” Maggie added.
“Roger that,” he chirped out in chipper mechanical tones. “And don’t worry, Captain: I’ll take good care of her.”
“Thanks Syd.”
A curious officer in a crisp black tunic, emblazoned with silver shoulder patches indicating that he was a member of the Kudarian home guard, met us at the gangplank.
He stood a good foot taller than Maggie, and he towered over me. He looked us over with a skeptical eye, and Frank too. Finally, he said, “Welcome to Kudar, Captain Landon and Miss Ellis. Welcome back, F’er ark inkaya.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Thank you,” Maggie added.
“It’s good to be back home.”
He nodded. “I’m Ver ark Crilga. Can you tell me what brings you to Kudar?”
“Family council,” Frank declared promptly.
The officer nodded again. “And you, Miss Ellis? Captain Landon?”
“Sightseeing,” I said.
“Spending my shore leave with friends,” she offered.
“They’re guests of my family’s,” Frank put in.
“Very good. Well, in that case I believe we’re done. Oh.” He frowned. “This says your ship is going to clear out soon?”
“Yes,” Maggie answered. “It’s scheduled for maintenance.”
“I don’t have other crew members on the roster,” Ver ark Crilga said.
“That’s because our pilot is non-organic,” Frank answered. “He’s a battle bot operated by an advanced custom AI.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not standard. But…” He glanced us over again and shrugged, as if to say but none of this is. Then, he tapped decisively on the pad he held, lowered it, and said, “Well, enjoy your time.”
“Thanks. We will.”
A car was waiting for us, compliments of Frank’s family. In appearance, it resembled an old Earth carriage more than a car, with its roomy cab and curtained windows. In function, though, it operated much as any other modern vehicle. There were temperature controls, automatic windows, a screen at one end, and, of course, an engine that purred to life as we got in.
A voice, thin and metallic, sounded as we entered, and I glanced at Frank. The words were unintelligible to me. “It’s the AI,” he said. “The car is self-driving.”
“Ah. What’s it saying?” I sat on a fluffy, cushioned seat, and Maggie settled in beside me. Frank seated himself across from us.
“Just welcoming us.” He paused to answer a query, speaking Kudarian himself. “And asking for our destination.”
“You should turn your translator on,” Maggie reminded me.
I nodded, slipping the earpiece in. I didn’t much care for it. It was a real-time translator, that filtered every Union language and quite a few non-Union ones into the wearer’s native tongue. It was still strange, though, to hear the sometimes-rough translations in one ear, and the original speech in the other.
Some Union planets made a particular effort to emphasize the common language in its dealings with off-worlders. Kudar, Frank had informed us, was not one of those planets. It was taught in schools, but it was considered distasteful to speak outside of academic or diplomatic endeavors. “You will speak your own language, and be underst
ood; but do not be surprised if you are answered in Kudarian.”
So, like it or not, the translator was necessary. “Hey, say something Frank so I can test this thing.”
“Gli bar gu tri al.”
I blinked, as the sounds hit my ears unfiltered. “It’s not working.” I pulled it out, frowning at the little earpiece. A status light glowed blue, indicating that it was on.
“Did you charge it before you left the ship?” he asked.
“Yeah, I…” I paused, glancing up at him. On the tail end of the question, I’d detected the faintest hint of amusement. Maggie started quivering with silent laughter beside me. I felt my cheeks flushing. “Was that really Kudarian?”
He busted a gut, now, and so did she. “You little arseholes,” I laughed.
“Me?” she protested. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Including tell me.”
She smiled at me, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now where would be the fun in that, Katherine?”
The earpiece was working, which I learned momentarily, but not from Frank – who was still wheezing with laughter. Instead, the proof came from the car, a moment after I slipped it back in place and fastened my seatbelt. “Passenger safety devices engaged,” it said. “Departing dock.”
“Well,” I declared dryly, “it works. No thanks to you, Frank.”
This only elicited more laughter from the Kudarian. Maggie contained her laugh, but not her smirk – she was grinning like a damned Cheshire cat. I might have pretended to be more annoyed if she didn’t look as cute as she did. There was something about her smile, though, that was infectious. It lit up her face and her eyes, and, like a fuse connected straight from them to me, my heart.
I nudged her playfully, then wrapped an arm around her. “Laugh now, beautiful: I’ll get my revenge.”
Our banter, though, gave way as we rolled out of the dock. We were in the city of Kriar, which was the nearest port to Frank’s family holdings. It was a midsized city, metropolitan in its own way. Tall spires gleamed against the skyline, and artificial waterways ran alongside the streets.
“There’s more streams than sidewalks,” I observed after a space.
