‘Well, the rescue,’ Alex said at once, ‘that’s no surprise.’ The historic first-footing at Carrearranis which the Fourth had been so carefully planning and working up to had been pre-empted by Silvie. Seeing on monitors a boat capsized, a sailor drowning, she had taken a shuttle, crash-descended it through atmosphere and dived right in to save him. ‘And the telling off…’ he looked again at the words she had used, and stifled a snurge. ‘She was channelling,’ he said, ‘Bonny Bonatti.’
Suri looked understandably baffled.
‘Watch commander on the Heron,’ Alex explained. ‘Silvie really doesn’t understand about the whole ‘getting irate over what might have happened’ thing, it’s like expecting a small child to get to grips with calculus. She’s learned to comply with our fear-driven precautions as a courtesy and consideration, so she does risk assessments and she sticks to them. Seeing people breaking the criteria of a risk assessment she would go in to advise, seeing them in difficulties she would get them out. But if the Colonel had recognised and accepted that a mistake had been made, no problem, Silvie would have gone on her way without a thought. A year ago, even if the Colonel had got stroppy about it and tried to defend his decision, Silvie would not have had sufficient frame of reference to do any more than classify that behaviour as bonkers humans being incomprehensibly bonkers, let it go and swum away. Now, though, she does recognise a situation of military personnel breaking their own rules and behaving irresponsibly, and she has a bank of responses she can draw on, from observing the behaviour of humans in similar circumstances. She does a ‘what would so-and-so do?’ analysis, decides which response is liable to be most effective, and goes with that. Normally, she channels Shion. But she evidently felt that a rather more forceful authority was needed to get the Colonel to understand that what he’d done was wrong. So, Commander Bonatti, doing Wrath of the Almighty.’
Suri was intrigued.
‘How do you know?’ she asked.
‘I recognise the speech,’ Alex told her, simply, and grinned. ‘In essence, the same situation – one of our new Subs got over-enthusiastic in a drill and breached a safety reg. Bonny did the Wrath of the Almighty thing – actually a command school exercise for her in itself. I gave her an A. And it was, evidently, just as effective delivered by Silvie.’
The trace of a smile passed fleetingly over Suri’s face.
‘Indubitably,’ she said. ‘And thank you – that does help to clarify. I am assured that Silvie is not actually angry, offended or upset…’ Shion would have told her that, Alex knew, and everyone else involved, too, but Suri was still looking for further reassurance. ‘But I’m sure you can understand, there is deep concern. Army high command, naturally, is very perturbed, and so are the civil authorities. It is being treated as an incident of gross offence by a Camag army officer to a visiting exo-ambassador. And on that basis, I have to respond to it as a serious diplomatic incident.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Alex said. ‘You have to do the paperwork.’ In triplicate, he knew, and in exhaustive detail. ‘But be assured,’ he smiled, ‘No offence was caused – Shion’s report makes that clear, and I will confirm it for you, for the record. Silvie is not capable, either physically or psychologically, of feeling anger the way we do. I have seen her get angry, really, seriously devastated and furious over the discovery of what we’ve done to the oceans on Chartsey. It was as highly emotional, that, as quarians are physically capable of becoming, with no adrenal or testosterone reaction. So she was upset, with some stern things to say but as soon as she’d said them, she went back into emotional equilibrium. She still says how appalling it is, the way we treat our planets, and she remembers how she felt, but she does not feel rekindled anger or outrage as humans do. So her irritation with the Colonel for behaving irresponsibly was mild, fleeting and already forgotten. The Wrath of the Almighty was pure imitation, copying Bonny’s tone and manner, that’s all.’
‘Ah – thank you. But she is, I understand, on her way to you…’ Suri glanced at a side screen, evidently monitoring Silvie’s progress on that journey. ‘There is some concern that she may be coming to you in distress.’
‘No,’ Alex said, patiently because he knew Shion would already have explained this. ‘She wants cookies. That means she’s feeling very pleased and proud of herself, knows that I will be delighted and proud of her, too – which I am – and she’s coming to share that with me, like a high-five.’
Suri looked at him very thoughtfully.
‘Delighted?’ she queried, with a delicate subtlety of tone which told Alex that the real question she was asking, here, was whether that delight was founded in the fact that the officer Silvie had splatted wore an army uniform.
‘Delighted,’ Alex said, firmly. ‘Two years ago, I had to have a conversation with Silvie trying to help her to understand why everyone was so upset over her going into caves which had been locked off as too dangerous. We had to come up with Skipper’s Rule Three, over that, with Silvie agreeing that she would not go into any situation which was too dangerous for her human escort to follow. And now she’s come so far, she is the one enforcing safety regs in that situation. Humour aside – and come on, it is funny – that’s an achievement, significant progress she has every reason to be pleased and proud of, so yes, I am delighted. And in the Fourth, we mark the achievement of significant steps in professional and personal development with a shipboard tradition of calling people to the command deck for a handshake and a mini-pack of cookies given as a symbolic reward. A small thing, really, but people do value it. So that is why Silvie is on her way here, to celebrate her achievement in understanding what was happening there and dealing with it herself. So she isn’t, I promise you, offended or distressed. And yes, of course, I will send a confirmation for your records.’
He meant, she knew, a formal exodiplomacy incident report, including whatever debriefing he and Silvie had when she got here. And she could see that Silvie was close to arriving, too, so thanked him for that, assured him that she in turn would reassure everyone else involved, and ended the call.
‘Is Silvie coming here?’ Alex had not shielded that call from Migan being able to hear his side of it, and she was looking quite alarmed. ‘Should I leave?’
Alex gave her a startled look. ‘Don’t you want to meet her?’
‘Yes, of course I do, but…’ She broke off, but gave him an eloquent look.
Alex had, in fact, taken Migan to one of the undersea facilities which had been built in the hope that quarians would go there to visit. Alex himself had been hoping that Silvie would come to meet them there, but she had declined. She did not want, she’d said, to embarrass them.
Alex understood that, and had explained it to Migan. Silvie was his daughter, emotionally if not genetically. And while Silvie herself would just find it amusing to see her Dad in the throes of a passionate affair, she would very hard not to giggle, even if she managed to stop herself from commenting. Alex could handle that, if he had to, but he had understood that Silvie was being sensitive to the embarrassment she would cause Migan.
‘It’s only us,’ Alex observed, because the embarrassment there, of course, would be in Silvie commenting on or giggling at their sex life in front of other people. ‘It’ll be fine,’ Alex said, and then, remembering that he was talking to someone who’d never even left her planet’s atmosphere, ‘Bizarre and overwhelming, perhaps, but fine.’
It was both. Silvie arrived a couple of minutes later. She was by herself, and riding an airbike. The Camag authorities had, very bravely, given her a license for and access to every kind of transport on the planet. There were subs, boats, cars and bikes of all kinds available for her wherever she went, and Silvie had already tried most of them.
For the journey from the deep-sea location of the cave-rescue incident to the croff, she had taken a mini-sub up to the surface, transferred to a supersonic racing boat to jet across the ocean, left the boat in a marina and ridden an airbike the rest of the way.
Like every other vehicle provided for her, it was the fastest of its kind – a racing airbike, dart-like aerodynamic and capable of getting close to Mach One.
Silvie could, had she wanted, made it go a lot faster. But vehicles weren’t allowed to go supersonic that low over land, and Silvie was complying scrupulously with human rules on piloting, however stupid she felt it to be to apply them to a superhuman pilot. So she had dropped her jet-boat subsonic at the regulation hundred klicks from shore, and followed all speed and traffic regulations as she rode the last couple of hundred klicks over the land.
This did not, however, mean that she felt it necessary to do everything as slowly as a human driver would. So the airbike came into the valley at 894 kph, one klick short of Mach One in Camae’s atmosphere, span out over the croff in a manoeuvre so fast it would have needed slo-mo to see it, and dropped to the ground at speeds which would have left it in a thousand bits scattered across the hillside if not for the last moment slam of the brakes.
‘Hi, Alex!’ Silvie called and waved as she sprang off the airbike, now sitting neatly in front of the croff. She was bubbling with happiness and eager to share it with him. ‘Have you…’ the word heard remained unspoken, though, as she’d stopped and was looking at the two of them with astonishment. ‘Wow,’ she said, and started to laugh, more with relief, Alex thought, than amusement. ‘Okay!’ she said, as if having a conversation with herself. ‘Got that one wrong.’ She was walking up to join them, remarking as she came, ‘I thought you two would have the star-crossed thing going on.’ And with that, suddenly and ludicrously assumed polite manners, holding out her hand to Migan. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Silvie.’
‘Mig…’ Migan realised that her voice was a whisper, and tried again. ‘Migan Glynbas.’ She drew a breath, a little ragged, but her upbringing came to her rescue. Her family would never let her hear the end of it if she let them down with any failure in hospitality. And there, too, at their croff. ‘Can I… can I get you some tea?’
‘Yumm, lovely,’ said the quarian ambassador. ‘And do you have any cake?’
Migan retreated into the croff, taking deep breaths and trying to compose herself as she put together a hospitable tray of tea, cookies, cake and savoury snacks.
By the time she returned to the veranda, Silvie had already demanded, and got, her due of commendation from Alex. She was sitting on one of the rough rustic seats, looking both strangely at home there and weirdly exotic. It was the contrast, Alex realised – that platinum hair, those vivid aquamarine eyes with their ornate filigree make-up; the shimmering butterfly colours of her clothes, in that setting of rough wood and domestic clutter.
‘Thanks,’ Silvie smiled as Migan put the tray down on the toy-chest which served as coffee table on the veranda. Then, seeing Migan hesitate as to whether she should stay or withdraw back into the croff and leave them to talk, Silvie gestured for her to join them. ‘You’re really pretty,’ she observed, and did not mean Migan’s physical appearance. ‘And you two, wow…’ she looked back and forth between them as Migan sat down gingerly on the bench next to Alex. ‘Really thought,’ she admitted, ‘That you’d have an Ulisanus and Pellic thing going on.’
That made Alex splutter. The reference was to a classical Cartasayan version of a universal story – the traveller who could not stay and the local who could not leave their home, their love, the enforced parting, and mostly, too, the tragic death of the abandoned partner.
‘Well, that’s what people are saying,’ Silvie said, ‘That it’s great you’ve found someone, but sad, too, bittersweet, that it has to end when we leave. Alex can’t stay, Migan can’t leave – classic Ulisanus and Pellic.’ A beaming look, then, with a certain smug component. ‘I’ll be able to tell them, now,’ she stated, ‘that they’ve got it wrong, you’re fine, you two, totally clear in yourselves and with one another what you’ve got, happy and enjoying it for what it is.’
Migan, attempting to follow this without the benefit of a classical education or any previous experience in exodiplomacy, reached out for Alex’s hand. He gave it, and with it, a smile which combined amusement, understanding and reassurance.
‘Awwww,’ Silvie said, as Alex and Migan held hands and their eyes met. ‘That’s so cute!’
‘Silvie…’ Alex looked at her and she laughed.
‘Okay okay okay,’ she said. ‘Respect privacy. Do not comment on how much great sex you two are having.’
‘That,’ said Alex, drily, ‘would be appreciated. Thanks.’
Silvie giggled, looking at Migan then with a swift, appraising glance.
‘So sweet,’ she said, and with that, was getting to her feet. ‘I don’t need to tell you to have fun,’ she observed. ‘It’s lovely seeing you happy.’ She was heading for the airbike, taking a slice of apple-cake with her. ‘Good cake!’ she said, taking a bite as she swung herself into the saddle. The airbike shot up, span, poised for perhaps a tenth of a second and spat off like a bullet.
Migan stared at the empty valley. She had the half-concussed what just happened look common to many people after an encounter with the quarian, and Alex, giving her time to process it, just quietly handed her a cup of tea from the tray.
It was some time before Migan was in any state to do more than blurt random comments, but eventually she calmed down enough to ask Alex what Silvie had been talking about. So he told her the story of Ulisanus and Pellic, with Pellic found dead on the shore where he’d spent night after night gazing after his lover.
‘But – that’s just – she doesn’t think that…’
‘No, of course she doesn’t think that you’ll pine away and die!’ Alex laughed. ‘But it would hardly make much of a legend, would it, if they had a wonderful time together, felt a bit sad when it was over, remembered the good times and just got on with their lives.’
‘No, suppose not,’ Migan conceded, and gave a low gurgle, then, still amazed, but coming around. ‘That was – intense.’ She said, and confessed, ‘I didn’t think it would be. I’ve seen so much about her on the holly, I thought she’d be, I don’t know, like meeting a movie star or something. But it’s like you said… you could never put her in a crowd and think people wouldn’t notice her. She makes you feel… dizzy.’
‘She does that,’ said Alex, and told her about the big-picture briefing protocol they’d had to develop because people, when introduced to Silvie without adequate preparation, had a tendency to pass out, vomit or flee.
That made Migan feel better. And later, snuggled up with Alex in the bunkroom, she told him that meeting Silvie had been wonderful.
‘It felt like she saw me, really saw me,’ she said. ‘And like she gave me a hug, you know, and said ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ It felt like she actually did that. And then just this feeling that everything was fine, really really good now, and I feel that, you know? It is. It wasn’t therapy or anything, I know that, it was just Silvie, saying hello. But just being with her, even for a minute, is like a big turn-out of a cupboard, throw out all the stuff you don’t want and tidy up the stuff you do. I feel good. I feel great. And… I want to tell you, Alex…’
She propped herself up on her elbow, her fingers moving slowly on his chest as she talked, gently caressing. She was a dim figure in the darkened bunkroom, with the big open space behind her.
It was not, perhaps, the most romantic of settings – certainly no kind of honeymoon suite. Up to twenty people could stay at the croff, with an assortment of beds in the bunkroom and tent-thin curtains between them for a modicum of privacy. As the only ones there, Alex and Migan had the big bed, the double divan. But it was rammed in a corner with eight other beds in the room, along with enough clutter to have stocked a shop.
Alex had a grand VIP apartment at the Embassy, all thick carpet, ornate window dressings and perfectly coordinated furniture. Migan had gone in there once, and told that this was what top class hotels were like, had recoiled – how awful, living in a place like that where none of the things m
eant anything to you.
So they’d moved to the croff. Alex preferred it, too, and not just for the privacy and peace there was out here in the hills. Staying with Migan in the Embassy apartment would have been just like staying in a hotel, reducing their relationship to the level of a tawdry business-trip fling. Here, however briefly, they were living together as a couple.
‘You don’t need to…’ Alex started to say, but she put her finger on his lips.
‘I want to.’ He hadn’t asked, and she had not said, but it had been obvious from their first meeting that her divorce had been painful. ‘No heart-pouring,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I want you to know, but just one sentence, okay? I’ll tell you, and we’ll leave it at that.’
Alex made a confirmatory noise, and waited.
Migan’s hand came to rest flat over his heart.
‘I found my husband in bed,’ she said, ‘with my fourteen year old cousin.’
Enough said. Shattered self-esteem, major loss of dignity, moving home to parents and enduring all the sympathy and family infighting over it all, not to mention the pressure, then, to get out there and find someone else.
Alex said nothing. He just lifted her hand from his chest, moved it to his lips and kissed her palm, very gently. Then he put it back onto his heart.
‘I wish…’ said Migan.
‘I know.’
If only things were different – if only they could stay here forever, snuggled away in their hillside hideaway.
As Alex was learning through personal experience, this was the factor which had ended so many Fleet and Diplomatic Corps careers. People met partners here, fell in love, and had, ultimately, to make a choice between their career or their relationship.
Migan could not leave Camae. Her family was everything to her. The idea of her living on Therik, alone, without even Alex for anything up to a year at a time and just a few weeks snatched when he came home on leave… no. It was impossible. It would be like uprooting one of the apple trees from that mountain orchard, taking it to Therik and planting it there without the environment or the ecosystem that it needed. It might survive, just about, but as a weak, sick, artificially sustained specimen.
Assegai Page 44
