The Terrans

by Jean Johnson

  Maybe then he could get it all sorted out and properly contemplated. This one speech, he added, seems to be the monotonously rigid driving force for how they conduct themselves as a government . . .

  “Ambassador Maq’en-zi,” Premiere Callan stated. She rose immediately, hands at her sides, shoulders level. “We have all had a chance to review segments of the raw footage of your mission to the Gamma Draconis system, the events that happened, and the decisions you have made. Some of those decisions will be reviewed in greater detail, but for now, we wish to reassure you and your guests that it is the decision of this Council and its Fellowship that you have acted honorably and with consideration for our unexpected guests. Your decisions in these matters will be upheld, with full honor given to our guests.

  “At this time, we wish extend our apologies to our foreign guests for the necessary restrictions of quarantine, and give them our reassurances that we are willing to meet them in person once the Department of Health has cleared both sides for physical contact. In the meantime, on behalf of the United Planets, Ambassador, please give them a warm welcome on our behalf, or at least as warm a welcome as you can, until they can visit us here on Kaho’olawe directly.”

  What does that mean? He didn’t have much time to ponder it, for she nodded and spoke. “Each of our honored guests will be introduced in order from lowest rank to highest, based upon the seniority or longevity of their positions. This is because four of them are all ranked as Sh’nol Kowehl, or as we would say, Leftenants Superior, the equivalent of a Lieutenant First Class or Lieutenant First Grade. Dai’a?”

  Standing, the life-support officer moved behind V’kol to join Ja’ki. She eyed the viewscreens, then asked hesitantly, “Should I introduce myself . . . ?”

  “Yes, please,” Ja’ki stated. “You know far better than I how you should be introduced, after all.” Silently, she sent to Li’eth, (Might as well give Shi’ol some extra rope to tie into a hangman’s noose, as we Terrans say.)

  He had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling inappropriately. That, it seemed, was at least one idiomatic expression that translated perfectly. (We V’Dan say something similar. Instruct Dai’a when she finishes to introduce the next officer up the line. That way Shi’ol can hang all her ambitions below my coming revelation.)

  (I’ll do that.) Ja’ki gestured for the other woman to begin.

  Squaring her shoulders, Dai’a stared at the wall of faces, finally settled on the white-clad man, and spoke. “I am, as you say, Leftenant Superior Dai’a Vres-yat, born on the colonyworld of Du’em-ya—it is a world with domes, as it has no breathable atmosphere,” she explained in a slightly nervous aside. “And . . . I served as the life-support officer on board the Imperial Warship Wardrum Deathbeat.”

  “The V’Dan name for their ship is pronounced T’un Tunn G’Deth,” Ja’ki interjected, managing the glottal stops smoothly. Li’eth guessed she did that so that the ship’s name didn’t sound quite as threatening. “Do you have anything you wish to add at this time, Leftenant Superior?”

  “I . . . like your plants,” Dai’a stated. She pointed off to the left. “The scientist, Lars Thorsson, showed me all the plants. Your hydroponics . . . aquaculture? . . . is very well balanced. There are some species that look very similar to some of our own foods, and some which are very strange, but flavorful. I am not sure how your foods ended up on our world, other than what certain Sh’nai scriptures state, but those are religious texts and are written in sometimes indirect language.

  “The science behind them is still being vigorously debated, since it is clear in our . . . our paleontological? . . . records that they did not evolve on our motherworld—the world where V’Dan first began to build civilized lives. Though now that we have reached what seems to be the Before World, it is clear where they come from,” she added, smiling shyly with a slight duck of her tanned, beige-and-green-striped head. “I am looking forward to finding out all I can about your history, to see if we can learn where our two peoples split, and how. I am sure the rest of you are just as curious as I am.”

  Ja’ki wasn’t the only one to smile at her sincere, ingenuous, if hesitant honesty. Many of the people on the other side of the broad monitor smiled. A few raised their hands, but were not called upon. Ja’ki spoke. “Thank you. May we call you Dai’a for the rest of this session? Or shall we call you by your kinship name, Vres-yat?”

  “You may call me Dai’a,” the life-support officer allowed, nodding.

  “Thank you, Dai’a. Would you please introduce your next-ranked officer for us?” Ja’ki asked.

  Dai’a blinked a little, but nodded. Ja’ki moved the chair with the empty box back, and stepped to the left a bit so that V’kol could stand and join them comfortably. Dai’a swayed in close, whispering a question to Ja’ki, who murmured back an answer. It gave the shorter woman confidence, and she nodded and squared her shoulders as a proper officer should when making introductions.

  “People of the Terran United Planets, I present before you Leftenant Superior V’kol Kos’q of V’Dan—our governing planet—and the chief tactical and gunnery officer of the . . . T’un Tunn G’Deth. Leftenant Kos’q, this is . . . everyone. Terran,” Dai’a stated . . . and blushed behind her green-and-tanned cheeks.

  Again, there were smiles of amusement, but not unkind ones. Ja’ki gestured discreetly for Dai’a to take her seat, which the other woman did with palpable relief. In the six or so months he had served as her commanding officer, Li’eth had never known Dai’a to be comfortable with public speaking. She ran her life-support crew just fine, comfortable in her environment of air-scrubbing-algae tanks, agriculture bays, and more, but not in the environment of public speech. More than ten people, and she started to mumble and stammer.

  V’kol gestured slightly toward the screen, and Ja’ki nodded, giving him permission to speak. “I am from V’Dan, but I should explain that I was born on the outermost of V’Dan’s three moons, moved to the second one as a young child, then finally migrated to the surface of our motherworld as an adult. So I will have more of an affinity with those who live on your solitary moon, I think, for it is airless like our own. And I, too, am enjoying the novelty of your different foods. I suspect I will be of more use discussing military matters than of agricultural ones, however.

  “And yes, you may address me by my personal name of V’kol, if you wish. After all,” he added, smiling, “you have only five new names to learn. We are the first people to visit you from a very distant foreign nation, and I am aware you will want to know everything about us. I would rather start out friendly in the hopes that we shall all become friends. That, and I shall look forward with some amusement to my grandchildren asking me all about this day, and the ones to come.”

  “Thank you, V’kol. Will you introduce your next superior, please?” Ja’ki asked. He nodded and turned to face Ba’oul, who rose and joined them. More hands shot into the air, prompting the Premiere, who had retreated to his chair, to approach the podium to speak.

  “Please hold your questions until after the introductions have been made, thank you . . .”

  “Yes, with that said,” V’kol stated, gesturing at the dark-skinned, blue-crescented man next to him, his own hot-pink jungen and light golden hide a contrast, “I present to you Leftenant Superior Ba’oul Des’n-yi, who if I remember correctly hails from Tai-mat in the Verlouss Archipelago on V’Dan . . . which appears to be similar to your Kaho’olawe, dry on one side of their mountains, dense and green on the other side. He has served us well as the chief pilot of the T’un Tunn G’Deth . . . before we lost the ship to an enemy attack.”

  Ba’oul nodded. “I look forward to seeing your world, as well. I am hoping to help figure out how to navigate between this system and the V’Dan home system, as I am a trained astronavigator. I also hope you will forgive me if I also seem eager to return home. Of all of us, I have been away the longest, nearly four years.”

  Once again, the Premiere spoke, this time out of comp
assion. “That longing is understandable; our soldiers in our Space Force are often deployed for long tours of duty as well, though we try to rotate them in and out as much as we can,” he stated. “We do intend to assist you to our best ability in locating which star system we should return you to in the coming days. In the meantime, we hope you will be willing to linger long enough to enjoy our hospitality and hopefully answer some of our many questions.”

  Bowing a little, Ba’oul touched his hand to his chest, then uncurled his fingers, Archipelago style, in a gesture of thanks and obligation-acceptance that even the Gatsugi would have found graceful, to Li’eth’s mind. “I will endeavor to enjoy that hospitality while I can.”

  He glanced at Ja’ki, then looked briefly at Shi’ol. The Ambassador nodded. Squaring his shoulders, he gave another slight bow. “I introduce to you now our seniormost Leftenant Superior, Shi’ol Nanu’oc, logistics officer of the T’un Tunn G’Deth.”

  Rising, Shi’ol took his place as Ba’oul retreated. She faced the monitors, shoulders back, chin slightly lifted, a slight but polite smile curving her lips. Of the four leftenants, she was clearly the most comfortable with public speaking.

  (Bet you she’ll seize it,) Ja’ki sent quickly to Li’eth. He didn’t reply, because Shi’ol began her speech.

  “In the V’Dan military I am a leftenant superior. In the civilian realm . . . if I have been given the correct level of title in Terranglo, I am a Countess. In specific, I am the 373rd Countess Shi’ol A-kai’a Nanu’oc d’Vzhta ul S’Arroc’an. This is an important and fairly high rank among our civilians, being of the Second Tier, superseded only by those of the First and Imperial Bloodline Tiers,” she not quite lectured. “We are what you would call a constitutional monarchy, ruled by our Eternal Empress, Hana’ka Iu’tua Has-natell Q’una-hash Mi’idenei V’Daania, direct descendant of War King Kah’el. As such, I am the highest-ranked civilian in this group . . . though I will of course defer during the length of our stay here to Captain Ma’an-uq’en, if that is your preference.”

  (She seized it,) Ja’ki sighed in Li’eth’s head.

  Sighing externally, Li’eth pushed to his feet. “That is inaccurate, Countess. I warned you not to make presumptions of rank during this meeting. Civilian or otherwise.”

  He reached into his pocket even as Shi’ol turned to frown at him. Withdrawing the cloth-wrapped bundle, he unfolded the kerchief, then twisted off the cap. The pungent scent of alcohol wafted up seconds later when he sprinkled the contents onto the white cloth.

  “I said I would follow your lead, Captain,” Shi’ol countered. “I am simply letting these people know which of us is more likely to have a better chance at carrying their questions, concerns, and so forth straight to the Empress.”

  Lifting the folded cloth to his face, Li’eth paused. “Again . . . Countess . . . you presume you have the most of the Empress’ favor in this crew.”

  Pressing the alcohol to his right cheek, he started to scrub from just under his eye to a spot just above the corner of his mouth. The concealer had to be rubbed off firmly, and the high proof of the liquor fumes was strong enough to bring tears to his eyes, though they didn’t quite fall.

  Checking in the polished silver side of the little pocket flask, he scrubbed a bit more . . . and watched not only Shi’ol’s jaw drop, but V’kol’s, Ba’oul’s, and lastly, Dai’a’s mouths all sag downward from the shock. A check via the flask, a little bit more on the cloth, a bit more scrubbing, and the last of the concealed burgundy stripe came into view. Along with a bit of pink-scrubbed skin around its edges, but that would fade. The extra jungen did not.

  He stared at Shi’ol evenly. “Please, Countess, introduce me properly to these people.”

  “You . . . you . . . but you’re a Captain!” she exclaimed in V’Dan, her voice barely a wheeze but clearly overwrought.

  Li’eth clung to Terranglo. “Every member of the Imperial Family must serve at least one year in the military. It is not, however, prudent to show our faces with our marks unchanged. Particularly when we are at war, Leftenant Superior . . . or I would not be here for this prophesied moment. Now. Introduce me. Formally, and fully.”

  She hesitated, golden skin flushing half as red as her rosettes, then turned to the monitors. It took the logistics officer a few moments to compose herself, during which she tugged on her slightly overlong jacket, and cleared her throat. “I . . . have the honor . . . of introducing Captain Li’eth Ma’an-uq’en . . . highest-ranked officer of the former Imperial Warship T’un Tunn G’Deth . . . and who is . . . actually . . . His Imperial Highness, Kah’raman Li’eth Tal’u-ruq Ma’an-uq’en Q’uru-hash V’Daania. Thirdborn child of Her Eternal Majesty.

  “Give him now the respect this highest of Tiers is due.”

  Her voice hardened a little on those last words, cutting through the speculative murmurs that sprang up at her words. Li’eth reached for Ja’ki’s mind, carefully restoring the cap to the flask. He set it and the now beige-stained square of cloth on the table. (It seems she is still determined to wrest some sort of superior-than-your-people power out of this moment . . . even if I am the one now holding that power.)

  (You have my sympathies. We only have to deal with our highest officials for five years at a stretch . . . and we only have to deal with her for as long as she is here,) Ja’ki sent back. She fell silent, for the Premiere spoke.

  “. . . Your revelation is interesting,” Callan stated. “From the shock and the lack of protest on your other companions’ part, it seems they, too, recognize you. Because of this reaction, we will acknowledge at this time that this claim appears to be truthfully spoken. With that being the case . . . how shall we address you while you are a guest among us?”

  Protocol. Li’eth knew it well, and could guess what he should say in this foreign place. There were plenty of rules of etiquette for proper forms of address among the various Alliance races, and among their various ranks. He did not, however, think it was appropriate after three of the others had given leave to use their personal names. Nor, given what he knew of their government system, did it seem intuitively appropriate to be completely, rigidly formal.

  “As the leader of your own empire, Premiere, you are the equivalent of my mother in rank, the equivalent of the leader of the Gatsugi Collective, and the equivalent of the Queen of Solarica. We are social equals. You may therefore address me—as may your Secondaire and your Ambassador, here—as Li’eth at any moment beyond the most formal of situations. The members of your Council, your highest government representatives, may also choose such informality if they wish. Otherwise, the proper way to address me as the leader of this group would be to continue to call me Captain, or Your Highness.”

  Callan bowed his head. “You grant us an honor with the use of your first name, Your Highness. I shall reserve it for moments of nonformality. This, however, is formal. How should we address the countess, your seniormost Leftenant Superior?”

  “Please call her Shi’ol.” There. That was a jab in her arrogance. “She does have some standing in civilian terms, as she says, but my mother will expect me to represent our people in all negotiations on the Empire’s behalf. I cannot make any formal treaties at this point in time beyond a pledge of nonaggression, but I can represent the Empire well enough to give you an indication of how much she may or may not favor any additional ideas.”

  “That is good to know, Your Highness,” Callan allowed, dipping his head slightly. “Nor would I or this Council expect anything more at this time. We are very curious about your people and wish to ask a few questions, if we may—please, be seated and make yourselves comfortable, both of you,” he added.

  A hard, searching look from Shi’ol met only a polite expression from him. The countess moved to take her former seat, and Li’eth picked the chair between Ja’ki and V’kol.

  “Now, as you have our mission members available to answer your own questions at any time you so choose during quarantine,” Callan stated, “we would lik
e to ask you and your fellow V’Dan several questions of our own. Most have been compiled in advance and selected to be the most common or most useful at this time, but we hope to have an open question-and-answer period toward the end of this session, if that is acceptable to you.”

  Li’eth nodded. “We have all been expecting an interrogation of some sort.”

  The Premiere smiled. “Hopefully, this will be more pleasant than most interrogations. You are, of course, free to refuse to answer any of these and all other questions . . . though it is hoped you will at least answer the ones that will help us pinpoint where we can take you to return you to your people. Secondaire Pong . . . who is the equivalent of an apprentice to my position, and represents everyone, the same as myself and Ambassador MacKenzie . . . has compiled that list of questions. I hand the Council Hall floor to him—that is to say, I give him the command of all questions and answers—at this time. Secondaire Pong?”

  Nodding, Pong stepped up to the podium as the Premiere retreated. He lifted the datapad taken from somewhere inside his outfit and read from it, looking up every few words to meet Li’eth’s gaze through the monitor screen. His accent was a little thick compared to some, but his words were enunciated well enough to be understood. A musical voice, in Li’eth’s mind.

  “The first and foremost question on everyone’s mind is . . . how did you, who appear in all respects to be Human beings like us, save for the, ah . . . colors spotting and striping your skin . . . come to exist on another world separate from Earth, the world that according to our own fossil records gave birth to the Human race?”

  “It is not completely known, as the majority of our written records on the subject are almost entirely religious texts, but approximately nine and a half thousand years ago—the date in V’Dan Standard should be some point late in the month of Sember in the year 9507,” Li’eth added in an aside, “a being of immense power managed to create some sort of gateway between what we call the Before World, and our homeworld of V’Dan.