The Terrans

by Jean Johnson

  (It’s not unknown for a mark to color an eye as well as the skin and the scalp, and my particular color is not uncommon,) he pointed out in his defense. (All I had to do was shorten the one mark on my face by almost a fingerlength, keep my beard shaved, and I was no longer an Imperial Prince . . . but then it has been the habit to disguise all of our bloodline when we go into the military, to prevent us from being used as leverage, being kidnapped for wealth or state secrets, or even being used to “support” an argument by our mere presence, simply when stationed involuntarily at some officer’s side. I am lucky no one in my surviving crew has remarked on the line of red at the edge of my beard, yet.)

  (I think I can scare up some sort of shaving equipment,) she offered. (Li’eth, I would not ask you to do this if I had any confidence in Shi’ol knowing how to treat the people of an utterly unknown culture with an initial offering of respect, and the patience to learn our ways before making any judgment calls . . . but she clearly cannot,) Jackie stated, shaking her head. (That isn’t appropriate.)

  Li’eth sighed heavily. (No. It is not. She is too proud of her Tier.)

  (Whereas you are not?) she asked gently.

  He gave her a wry look. (My first assignment as an ensign, the captain knew who I was. The very first thing she did when she called me into her cabin was to inform me bluntly that she knew I’d been born into the Imperial Family, but that so long as I was on her ship, she’d treat me like a common-born Fifth Tier idiot until I could prove I had brains. That she would treat me as a lazy deadweight until I could prove that I could work hard—in other words, I was lowest on the ship, juniormost, and that I would get no special considerations from her. She then added how she had my mother’s permission to demote me to enlisted if I tried to complain.

  (Not that I would, nor that I did,) he added, sighing again. (I knew Captain Mer’it was well-intentioned . . . what is so funny?)

  Jackie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud, though her shoulders shook. (Mer-it . . . sounds like the Terranglo word for merit,) she sent, carefully forming the word-sound and plastering it over the packet of its definition without muffling the underlying meaning. (She was trying to judge you on your own merit!)

  As soon as he got the joke . . . it provoked a rare smile out of him. (Yes . . . yes, she did. And I proved it to her. I cleaned the filters, I scrubbed the deck—by hand when commanded, not just with a cleaning robot—and I did not complain. I had to go to the infirmary a few times for blisters and a bashed hand, and twice for a broken foot when I dropped things on it, but I passed her tests of my character.)

  (My tests of character came when I was much younger,) Jackie found herself relating. (My telepathy came on early, barely at the edge of puberty rather than smack-dab in the middle . . . and possibly even earlier, for I’d already learned eight or ten languages quite fluently by then. Father tested me for discretion on some rather juicy gossip overheard by him and some of his clients—he’s a polyglot translator somewhat like I am, though he’s not an actual telepath or anything. I failed the first test but passed the second and the third.

  (I’m sort of the weirdling of the family, highly gifted in a family not known for anything other than speaking several languages on my father’s side for the last five or six generations, and in being excellent managers and representatives on my mother’s side. There were some famous psis in my father’s bloodline—what you’d call Holy Ones or Gifted Ones—but that was several generations back.)

  (I think I would like to meet . . . no. No, we are getting distracted,) Li’eth asserted, disciplining his wandering thoughts. (There was something you were thinking, when you were talking about the moment to reveal my full identity. Something about . . . ensuring your own people had to treat us with great respect and dignity.)

  (Yes . . . that would . . . hmm. Let me see if I can explain a little bit about our government system,) she told him. (A long time ago—thousands of our years ago—there lived a group of people called the Greeks, who decided one day that they did not want an hereditary king to lead them. That instead each adult male who was a free citizen would have the right to a say—a vote—in their government. And one of their neighboring lands, the Romans, thought of a similar but different system, that the people would have individuals among them who would represent their wishes when it came time to vote. These lands strengthened, prospered, and perished. Monarchs rose and fell, empires grew and shrank, but eventually that idea of a democratic republic—the people voting to put representatives into positions of authority—created several different lands.

  (For the first time in a very long time, the people had an actual voice . . . but people being people, they could be easily swayed by a sweet tongue or a pretty face,) Jackie acknowledged, shrugging as they floated there in the back of the central corridor. (And while power, and indeed great power, can be wielded well by those who are wise . . . when those who scheme without wisdom to grab power get in control . . . a great deal of corruption soaked into the system, until ‘politician’ became a very dirty word.)

  (But . . . ?) he prompted her. (There is always a ‘but’ because I can sense that you are not corrupt.)

  (But . . . a great tragedy happened,) Jackie admitted. (Millions incinerated by a nasty massive weapon, millions dead or dying, diseased, rendered ill, great suffering . . . and the people of many, many nations were so upset by how poorly the whole situation had been handled by many, many governments, there was a massive uprising that ended in essentially a one-world government, ruled by people who had to take a test of competency in the law, in sciences, in basic Human compassion—for there were idiots who refused to believe the many facts of science laid before them on how their bad and often willfully ignorant policies were ruining things for everyone—and these representatives had to gain and keep a certain percentage of “votes of confidence” in them from the people they represented. More than that, the percentage would be raised every single term of so many years of service, to ensure that they would have to work very hard on the people’s behalf to stay in power.)

  She broke off for a moment, marshalling her thoughts again. That unnaturally burgundy iris of his was a bit distracting, this close. So was his scent, still a bit ripe with sweat despite the body-cleaning wipes, which had no doubt been passed around at some point, because he smelled faintly flowery from them. The ship’s air filters could only do so much without an actual bath, and zero-G showers were less effective than gravitied ones . . .

  (Go on,) he encouraged her.

  (Well, today, in this era, we rely upon the proved ethics of our representatives. So if I were to make public promises to your people—putting my reputation on the line—in the name of hospitality, ensuring you would be well treated, ensuring that we would do our best to triangulate your home-star system, and promising to return you to your home, in the welcome-to-our-station speech . . . a publicly broadcasted speech . . . it would be very difficult for anyone to go back on what I promised in the name of our government. This would . . . be uncomfortable for those in the military who have mistrustful natures, those who would want to lock you up and study you, interrogate you—in the less pleasant sense—for every bit of information they could wring from you.)

  (Ah! You seek to use that offer of hospitality-and-safe-return to ensure that I am not used as a hostage, given my birth,) Li’eth concluded, smiling again. (That’s very clever.)

  (Yes, thank you. While I am ethical, and must be so by the description of my job as Ambassador and my just-finished job as a Councilor—a highest-ranked representative of a certain section of my people—unfortunately, I am aware there are those who would not be ethical and moral in how they wish to treat you.)

  Li’eth studied her, his smile fading. (Is this not colluding with a potential enemy, though? To let me know of your plans, to arrange them with my cooperation?)

  (Perhaps in a very small way . . . but in most ways, this is the ethical course,) she said. (I must “save face,” as we say, save
it for my people by ensuring that no offense is given on either side. I must seek out and take the course of action that ensures that everyone is dealt with in a reasonably fair-for-all fashion. I must also—as it is repeated so very often in the Oath of Service, the Lochaber Oath—seek to act in ways that will benefit those whom my constituents—my people—will interact with, as well as my people themselves.

  (As I am an Ambassador of the Terran United Planets, soon to be sent to your world to make formal First Contact, I must think from the very beginning of things that will ensure that your people and my people have a chance at getting along. I cannot guarantee that, of course,) she added wryly, giving him a look to match, one brow cocked upward, (but I must by my calling as a servant of my government at least try to arrange things so that no insults will be given . . . and no insults will be met unanswered.)

  ( . . . Unanswered,) he repeated, dubious.

  She flashed him a brief smile. (Well, I don’t plan on being a pushover, a rug for you and your kind to walk all over and wipe your muddy shoes upon. That, I could get from Shi’ol . . . and I would far rather pass on it. If she tries to take over these negotiations—if your mother is anything like her—then it will go badly for your people. I can guarantee you that,) she finished softly. Soberly. (I may need to seek out compromises that benefit the many . . . but I also carry and represent the pride and the respect of the many.)

  (You will be a refreshing spring breeze in my mother’s Court,) Li’eth told her. He studied her a moment, his eyes narrowed, calculating, then finally nodded. (I will help you. I choose to believe in the Sh’nai prophecies, but I also believe that we must help the prophets’ messages come true. Carefully, of course . . . The fact that you seem to live and breathe your ethics, and not just speak of them to anyone who would listen, is very convincing.)

  (Not everyone is altruistic, back home,) she warned him. (But between you and me, we can cobble together a series of events that should ensure good negotiations will begin properly between our people. After that . . . it will be halfway out of our hands, if not completely at some point. And then, as both our peoples would say if I read your memories right . . . all we can do is pray.)

  (Indeed.)

  (Just . . . one more thing, Li’eth,) she warned him. (By the laws of my people, I must undergo a mental scan by my peers in the Psi League to ensure that my gift-based actions have been undertaken legally, with sufficiently high morals and ethics guiding them. The others will learn who you are, when those examinations take place. They will be bound by the same oaths not to divulge what they learn, but . . .)

  (It would be easier for them to already know openly about it at that point in time, yes. I will think on it,) he allowed, reasoning it through to the logical conclusion behind her warning.

  (Aside from that, I was wondering if I could have your forgiveness and permission-in-retrospect for having taken over your mind to teach you how to ground, center, and shield,) she clarified. (It wasn’t exactly a life-or-death situation. I could have switched to try a translation transfer with someone else.)

  Li’eth considered her words, then shook his head. (No, it was best for you to have approached me first and taken me over briefly in order to train me. When you did it, when I realized why you were doing it and what you were doing to me, I realized I needed your lessons . . . and if this is all we have to discuss for now, I will gladly undertake them again with your assistance. With a full range of vocabulary to draw upon for questions and answers this time, too.)

  Relieved, Jackie smiled and nodded. (I will teach you quite happily, both the methods and the rules. If and when I go to your world, I’ll consider it one of my duties to teach everyone else who is gifted, too . . . or at least get you all started with the basics. Having these abilities is considered a gift only so far; the rest of it is a pain in several body parts.)

  (I can imagine,) he murmured in agreement. And wondered, as privately as he could, what the Sh’nai priesthood would think of her, a Great One who was this overwhelmingly powerful in so many different ways.

  Jackie carefully did not “hear” that subthought. A point of courtesy that ethics demanded from her, just as they demanded everything else. He had a good start on his mental shields now, and someone less than Rank 6 would not have heard anything through them, but . . . he wasn’t yet trained into the full scope of his abilities like she was. Yet.

  CHAPTER 8

  JANUARY 31, 2287 C.E.

  SOL SYSTEM

  Admiral-General Vilhelm Kurtz did not like the idea of announcing to the entire United Planets that they had encountered alien races beyond the Greys. Admiral Nayak pointed out that it was inevitable, and that if they released the information slowly, the reactions of humanity—Terran Humans, that was—could be gauged and guided by further dribbles of information. But as to who should release that information, both men disagreed, until the Premiere stepped in and put his foot down.

  “This, gentlemen,” Callan stated over the group’s joint commlink, his face occupying the far left of Jackie’s central monitor screen, “falls under the purview of our Ambassador. Contact and interaction includes introduction. Plus, she is a more well-known entity than any of the gentlemen or ladies you were suggesting. A well-known and well-trusted entity. Ambassador MacKenzie, I leave the introduction in your hands . . . but do coordinate with my office and with the Admiral and Admiral-General.”

  Jackie nodded. “I have put together a montage of carefully edited images from my helmet camera, sirs. Something that will convey both the danger and the, ah, dignity of the events that have been unfolding.”

  That was the discreet way to say she had edited out the undignified naked bits. There were still plenty of cultures that had nudity taboos, plus the five captives had not been very clean when they had been rescued, so Jackie had taken the time to carefully take pictures of them from the neck up after an admittedly awkward round of zero-G showers and shaving attempts.

  Shi’ol had complained about the plebeian clothes they had to wear, and demanded something “in a proper V’Dan style.” Lars, proving himself both helpful and multitalented, had taken a datapad with a sketch program in it and had conferred with the alien Humans in their midst. Jackie had then sent those sketches on to the manufactory bays on board the MacArthur, along with scans of their sizes. At least one set of V’Dan-style clothes per person would be ready by the time they reached quarantine sector alpha.

  For now, they were drifting toward Earth under insystem-thruster power, having emerged at about the orbit of Mars but inclined upward by about seventy degrees from the system plane, their designated reentry position. Everyone on board—Terrans included—had been given a chance to bathe and groom themselves as best as one could in zero G, everyone had on clean clothes, and everyone was ready to disembark.

  “Gentlemen, sirs,” she said, “I am ready to broadcast when you are. Premiere, would you be willing to interrupt everything for my announcement?”

  “A general broadcast on the emergency code?” Nayak asked her.

  “A full broadcast, sirs, not a general one. It would be best to let everyone know, openly and honestly, what is going on, sir,” she said. This was something she and Maria had discussed on the way home. “Not just newsfeeds and entertainment channels, but every channel, because these people are Humans. They carry a whole host of diseases that are new to us. That means we need to get everyone on board with worldwide and systemwide vaccinations. That means letting them know what has happened. Plus, by warning everyone about the Salik, it’ll help prepare everyone in case they can somehow track us back to Earth. It didn’t seem like they could, and the things the V’Dan told me suggest they have no idea what hyperspace even is, but . . . it’s better to prepare people than be caught unprepared.”

  “Give me two minutes, then,” Callan told her, and put his screen on hold. That left Kurtz’s image in the middle and Nayak’s on the right side.

  “I want to know what will be in your speech, Major,” Ku
rtz told her.

  Jackie ticked off the elements on her fingertips. “The fact that we have made contact with a hostile alien race, that we made contact with a nonhostile race, that the nonhostile race appears to be Human like us, but from a long-lost branch whose origin story we do not yet know, that—”

  “Why don’t we know that, soldier?” Kurtz asked her, interrupting.

  “Because, sir, we haven’t had time to ask origination stories. I’ve been putting priority on my crew asking Captain Ma’an-uq’en’s crew about the Salik, their technology, their weaponry, their capabilities, that sort of thing. Those recordings will be downloaded to the MacArthur as soon as we’ve docked and the dataports have synched. As for myself . . . I’ve been busy giving almost everyone on board language transfers. That takes a minimum of three hours each person, with downtime required for recovery between sets.”

  “Almost? Who’s left?” Nayak asked her.

  “I have given language transfers to Li’eth, Dai’a, Maria, V’kol, Ba’oul, Ayinda, and Lars. I’m scheduled to give a transfer to Shi’ol as soon as I’ve made the broadcast. Much like Lieutenant Brad Colvers, she has taken a dislike to me and would not tolerate it if she wasn’t now feeling very much left out of the loop while the others practice their Terranglo around her. After we arrive, I will be giving the language transfer to Robert as well.”

  “But not Colvers?” Kurtz asked sharply.

  “Lieutenant Colvers has an aversion to psis,” Nayak informed his superior. “His skills as pilot, gunner, and engineer were deemed more important than his aversion, plus his face did appear in the precognitive visions.”

  “The lieutenant has not yet made up his mind as to whether or not he’ll allow me to transfer anything,” Jackie stated calmly. Brad, minding the helm while Robert attended to nature in the crew cabin, glanced back over his shoulder warily. She met his gaze briefly, politely, before looking back at their superiors on her screen. “It is preferable for people to be willing to accept a language transfer. Of course, he is well aware that if he does not undergo one, he will not be eligible for piloting the ship that will return these people to their home, or be a part of the group sent to their homeworld to open formal contact with their government. I’m not going to pressure him to make up his mind right away.”