Watching From a Distance

by Abigail Isaac

~~Watching from a Distance~~

  By Abigail Isaac

  Copyright 2012 by Abigail Isaac

  A quick table of contents because that’s what’s recommended.

  Section 1

  Section 2

  Section 3

  About the Author

  As the door closes behind me, the irritating noise from the drums and horns all but disappear. With that distraction gone, the emotions of this newly contacted race from Dipson-3 focus so sharply I almost feel physically hit. President Lee is curious, interested, but also cautious. Can I blame him? No. After all, his people have only questioned the possibility of people from other worlds until a week ago. The vice president and the other members of the president’s circle match the president’s opinion, with the sole exception of his daughter, Daisy. But what she cares about, I can’t even begin to speculate. Thirty minutes association with a race only gives me the most basic level of emotions.

  Ka’za, my lady, smiles as she shakes President Lee’s hand again, then sits and seemingly absently pulls off her gloves. Unlike these people, we have hypersensitive skin and, as such, make efforts to protect it against unwanted touch. Though Ka’za thinks the gloves make her look too formal here, I personally think they offset the differences between herself and them well. Compared to me, in a dark uniform, Ka’za clearly becomes the center of attention and accepts that place well.

  President Lee sits across from her, and I take my position behind Ka’za. Within five feet of her, as the guidelines for A-guards dictate. Ka’za insists to foreign people I am merely an assistant to her and necessary for her to carry out her duties. How, they rarely see. Cor, her translator, stands wherever the planetary custom dictates. Most people on board ship considers him one of the smartest men, for he learns every language we contact within a week; I suspect he does it through surgery and computers and not smarts. He’ll never admit it though; he knows where he stands if he lost his intelligence.

  “Toosha, ‘t--” The president pauses then gives her an embarrassed smile. “I fear, ma’am, that even after practicing I do not think I can pronounce your name.” The translator in my ear garbles her name so it sounded even less like our language, but my naked ear catches his own language clearly. No wonder he mispronounces her name so badly; his own language has too much music.

  Ka’za gives him a disarming smile and replies, which Cor translates. “Understandable, Mr. President. My title, as I’m sure you have been told, translates to Voice of the Vicelord. And it is through our Vicelord that I would like to arrange a trade agreement between Cordesle and its colonies, and America--on Earth.” They call it Earth. An obviously self-centered name as encountered in most societies. We call it Dipson-3, after its star and location in the system.

  “I have understood that much from our talks thus far. However, what do we have that would be of value to you?” I easily feel the awe in his statement.

  “You have a planet very rich in calcium. Calcium powers our ships for light-speed very efficiently but is very rare on our planets. What we do have is oil, which you appear to use greatly. We would like to trade: our oil for your calcium. With this trade agreement, we will also extend to you a peace treaty for two hundred years. I imagine it has crossed your mind that you are outdated and backwards so far as we are concerned, but we do not want war with you. We merely wish to establish trade relations. There are many other nearby planets equally rich in calcium that we can colonize without a fight.”

  Surprise. Shock. Wonder. Hope. From all the men in the room. At moments like these, I wish I could laugh. They don’t need this oil; they have millions of gallons of it untouched. More than even recorded on their maps. However, they think they do and that is enough for Ka’za to negotiate. With that introduction, the table is set and Ka’za begins a process as familiar to me as dressing each morning.

  Ever since I became her A-guard two years ago, I admired her skills of negotiation. She somehow learned from a young age to read a foreign leader, and then tune her reactions and words to say what that leader needs to hear. Like a natural instinct. A gift. Most surprising of all is she isn’t that strong mentally nor does she adapt quickly to foreign minds like I do, which is mainly because I grew up in North Harbor. Yet I have only twice seen a trade agreement take more than a week to be approved. Add this gift with her precise manners and stunning appearance and she is not easily refused in anything. According to my mom, many question if she has her sights on the Vicelord position when her uncle passes; if she did, she would get it.

  With no imminent threat, I have a chance to observe the physical characteristics of everyone in the room. Most of the men are standard politicians. I see hundreds of those a year. The only variation is Daisy.

  Daisy turns from studying both the outside lawn and her nails to watch Ka’za’s and her father’s earnest discussion. No interest though. In fact, she showed more interest in her nails. She almost looks bored, and yet I don’t sense that either. Absently, she begins to twist a long, blond curl around her finger. I study her for a moment and, as I do, she slowly begins to smile. After spending so much time with dignitaries, I almost want to talk to her. Out of pure curiosity of what a young alien thinks.

  Or, perhaps, I only wish to speak with her because she reminds me so much of my sister Mati. They look a lot alike, with blond hair that curls down their backs. They both have these slender bodies that remind me of dancers. But Mati’s eyes sparkle with so much more life than Daisy’s. Everything in life makes Mati excited. Whenever we communicate, either through letters or space lines, she always demands to know what new things I’ve seen. She tells me often I should hide a little camera on my uniform, so I can take pictures of everything.

  Well, at least she used to. Now--

  A grin from Daisy pierces my thoughts. Automatically, I smile in return; smiles universally mean goodwill. Daisy’s smile widens and she flips back her hair. I turn towards Ka’za and the president. I know better than to check my mail before a mission, since, especially now, it will cause me to lose focus. But I cannot resist either. I need to know something!

  Ka’za rises. “I understand that you must consider my offer and the implications, Mr. President. I will send you the articles on environmental changes as soon as we translate them. In the meantime, I would like to invite you and up to twenty guests to tour our ship when it is convenient for you.” Our limit is placed because some of the regular crew can only tolerate so much mental stimuli without going insane. Only the strong and well-trained can go planet side, though I won’t admit I’m either. I know I’m good at fighting; that’s why I’m in the Purple Guard. But I can easily compare myself to others in a fight. Only a vague test tells me I’m stronger mentally than most.

  “I would like that, and I’m sure Daisy would too.” President Lee glances at his daughter. She slips off the chair and stands next to him, a smile dancing across her face.

  “I would love to see where you live, yes.” Her smile broadens and seems directed not quite at Ka’za. Maybe at me. Can’t tell for sure. I don’t like that idea. I’m so used to being invisible I prefer to stay that way now.

  “We would be honored if you would reconsider and join us for dinner,” President Lee says.

  “I would love to, President Lee, but we cannot. It is physically impossible. Our bodies cannot digest minerals commonly found in your food.” I suspect she’s relieved she can say that. Much of the food we enjoy is typically served live, since our cali glands will kill the small creatures almost immediately. Though I don’t mind it, Ka’za hates cooked food.

  “Very well.” He walks her out the side door. I follow. Many of the guests that observed the welcoming ceremony earlier stayed in hopes of seei
ng Ka’za again. At the sight of her, they become so excited I feel dizzy deflecting the intense emotion. But not so dizzy I don’t notice Ka’za lower her eyebrows slightly and, ever so lightly, touched the railing. Her weakest ability is deflection of others’ emotions, especially strong emotions like now. No one needs to tell me that; I see it every time her eyebrows lower in a struggle. Yet she raises her hand in greeting to please them.

  As we walk across the grassy lawn towards our ship, an unnatural movement catches my attention. Instantly, my hand flies to my shock stick as I step to block the lady.