First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  (We’ve done our best to compensate for intragalactic motion, but each star system moves at its own speed relative to the rest, and to the movement of the galaxy as a whole, and to the movement of the universe overa—AAAAH!)

  Li’eth stumbled, startled by that scream, loud inside his head, faint but still audible through his ears. Jackie shrieked again. He bolted down the hall, wondering who or what was attacking her.

  (AAAAH!—GETITAWAYFROMMEEE!!)

  A moment later, her mind stopped screeching, only to fall into a jumble of Terranglo and what sounded like Hawai’ian maybe, and a couple other languages on top, all of it flickering and tumbling and muddling too fast for him to make any sense. He hooked his hand around the frame of the open doorway to help throw him into the observation lounge, and found her with her back pressed up against the left-hand wall, her limbs drawn in tight, her hands pressed over her face, shuddering with rapid, struggling breaths.

  Alarmed, Li’eth looked all around the room. There were a handful of others who had left their seats, including three more who looked equally terrified, huddling against the wall, shielding their gazes or staring fixedly at the left-hand wall, muttering to themselves. A half dozen more looked upset; they weren’t huddled at the edges of the room, but they were looking anywhere but at the observation window. A final three didn’t seem to be reacting adversely to the view but still looked a little perturbed.

  He wasn’t the only V’Dan in the room, he realized. Shi’ol was there, too. The countess stood by the control panel for the observation window, her mouth compressed in a tight little smile. A smug, almost triumphant smile. Beyond the window stood three delegations of viewers. The majority were fellow V’Dan, being officials from the station, a couple of the reporters, and his distant cousin, Imperial First Lord Mi-en Ksa’an. Three of the bodies on the other side of the window were the four-armed Gatsugi, their skins flushed in muddled hues of uncertainty, but they weren’t the cause of the fear in the room.

  That could be attributed to the two K’Katta already present on the other side of the observation glass. That explained Jackie’s mental shout, the other Terrans’ upset expressions, the way half a dozen had abandoned their seats.

  Shi’ol had exposed them to the K’Katta with absolutely no warning. And Shi’ol knew that Jacaranda MacKenzie was arachnophobic. She had been there in the Terrans’ quarantine sector when a tiny little eight-legged bug had frightened Jackie out of her seat. The appearance of a ten-legged, somewhat similar-looking version enlarged to a leg span as broad as Li’eth himself was tall would be horrifically startling without a chance to mentally prepare for it in advance.

  Which, by V’Dan law, should have taken place before that shutter was opened.

  “Shi’ol Nanu’oc,” he stated crisply as he faced the Second Tier countess. “You are stripped of your noble rank for the duration of this quarantine. You are stripped of your officer rank for the duration of this quarantine. Your rank is now lowest of the Fifth Tier. You will apologize to each and ever single Terran in this room. Individually. And you will apologize to the K’Katta, our oldest allies, for the grave insult you have given them as well as to our newest potential allies.”

  “I did nothing wrong!” she tried to protest. “I was simply trying to—”

  Lifting his hand between them, Li’eth cut her off. “—As a former Countess of the Second Tier, you know what the proper protocols are for introducing new V’Dan—new Humans in specific—to the K’Katta,” he warned her, each word as hard as a knife even when he had to correct himself. He stabbed his demand at her, his tone an ice-cold blade. “You. Will. Apologize. Now, Private Nanu’oc.”

  Her slight smile and its hint of triumph had faded into a tight line at his words. At her demotion. Stiffly, the green-spotted woman saluted, fist formally thumped over her heart. Turning, she took a step forward, turned again, and began apologizing to each person on the other side of the window, to the Imperial First Lord, the Ambassadors, and then the other observers. Satisfied for the moment with Shi’ol’s obedience, Li’eth reached out to Jackie’s mind.

  He was relieved to find she was no longer shaken and cowering, though he could sense her flinching away from looking anywhere near the right-hand clutch of sentient beings on the far side of the large observation window. (Will you be alright?)

  (. . . Yes.)

  (I think I am finally mastering telepathy,) Li’eth stated lightly. That made her glance at him, shifting her gaze from the left side of the room to where he stood by the right-hand doorway. He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. (I do believe I am beginning to sense exactly what constitutes a lie, mind-to-mind.)

  She coughed at that, clearing her throat with a sound that was not quite a laugh. (Yes, well, if I keep telling myself that, eventually it won’t be a lie, now will it? Li’eth . . . how am I going to get through this? I can’t even look at them without being frightened. My heart races, my hands sweat, and I keep wanting to push them far, far away with telekinesis. That would not be diplomatic, and I know it would not, and I am carefully not doing it . . . but if they had been a meter closer, I would have. I can’t . . .)

  (You were supposed to be introduced carefully. Most subcultures within the Empire are educated from an early age on the fact that the K’Katta are polite, friendly, and our allies, and thus must be treated with respect and courtesy. But for those pockets of aboriginal culture where they choose to stay separate from interstellar life, they are encouraged to contact the Department of Protocol, who appoints a protocol officer familiar with their culture to help them transition, should they need to travel to regions where the K’Katta visit, or even need to conduct commerce or other interactions with that race.

  (In that tradition, you and your companions were supposed to see a soothing, encouraging visual presentation first, before the window shutter was to be opened. I know for a fact that you did not see such a thing because I could not sense you seeing it.)

  (No, that modo pretty much raised the shutter as soon as I entered the room,) Jackie growled mentally, her underthoughts carrying currents of pointy, stabby, overly hot but only half-formed ideas of retaliation. (I’m not sure of their body posture, but I think the others were startled,) she added, her subthoughts meaning the people beyond the window. (The ones with four arms all shifted to similar shades of creamy beige with gray undertones, though they look like they’re recovering.)

  (Gatsugi colormood for shock and surprise,) Li’eth confirmed. A glance at Shi’ol showed she had finished apologizing to his distant cousin. “And now apologize to each and every Terran, Private,” he directed aloud. “Starting and ending with two apologies for the Grand High Ambassador, who represents billions of sentient beings.”

  The demoted countess faced Jackie. She didn’t look directly at the other woman, just in her general direction. “I apologize . . . Grand High Ambassador.” Shifting, she eyed the next woman. “I apologize, Assistant Ambassador.”

  Rosa McCrary lifted her hand, forestalling the younger blonde from moving along. “Countess,” she stated, “I suggest you remind yourself for the rest of today that it was your choice to alter protocol. Of course, I cannot say what your motives for doing so were. Only you might know that. But I suggest you set those motives aside. A mature person does not choose to make others look or feel bad. A mature person strives instead to make others feel welcome and strives to make them feel comfortable in all situations. You are in command of your own destiny. I should like to see it be a mature and thus responsible one from now on.”

  Shi’ol curled her lip, looking down her nose at the older woman. “Who do you think you are, to talk to me like that?”

  Rosa stared her down without bothering to lift her own chin. “I am a mature woman offering a less mature woman some good advice. Here is another piece of good advice: Try to match your words and your deeds more closely, young lady. It is, of course, up to you as to wheth
er or not you will do so. Rest assured that, either way, we will know what kind of a person you will be in the future by what you choose to do. We already know what kind of person you are. Do keep in mind that you can change . . . so that, hopefully, you will.”

  Staring at the woman, Shi’ol finally moved to the next person in the line without saying anything more than a terse “I apologize” to each of the others. When she reached Captain al-Fulan and murmured her apology, he, too, lifted his hand, forestalling her from moving on.

  Unlike Rosa, he chose to speak in Terranglo, no doubt as a moment of diplomacy. “If I catch you causing problems for anyone in the Terran delegation again, I will have you arrested and removed from our vicinity on grounds of disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. And if you resist that arrest—”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Jackie interjected smoothly, her tone both simultaneously supportive with a touch of chiding. “We hope that it will not be necessary.”

  Shi’ol moved on. When she had finished with the others, she dragged in a deep breath and marched back to Jackie. Li’eth moved up, intercepting her. “Your apologies to the others were barely adequate, Private. Please state to the Grand High Ambassador what you did wrong, and apologize for that.”

  This close, he could see a muscle working in her jaw, shifting one of her grass-green rosette marks. But she did comply after a moment. “It was wrong of me to expose you and your people to the K’Katta without ensuring you first went through the proper protocol procedures. I apologize.”

  Jackie studied her a moment, then simply said, “Apology accepted.”

  “. . . Do I have the Captain’s permission to leave?” Shi’ol asked, staring past Jackie’s shoulder.

  “You will go straight to the supply quarters and search for the insignia of a private; if you cannot find any, you will requisition it for delivery. I expect to see you wearing that ring-and-bar for the remainder of your time in quarantine,” he instructed her. “You shall wear it on your civilian clothes as well, as a reminder that your obligation to behave with the courtesy expected of an officer of the Imperial Army does not end when you don the attire and rank of a civilian, Second Tier or otherwise.

  “That courtesy and its required forethought is still expected from a noblewoman, and it always will be. Dismissed, Private,” he directed her, and stepped aside so that she had a clear path through the doorway.

  Without a word, though her lips were pressed together, Shi’ol left. Mindful of his duties, his obligations, Li’eth stepped up to the window. He did not apologize to each individual, but he did apologize.

  “I regret the actions of my subordinate and extend apologies on behalf of the V’Dan government and the V’Dan military. If you are willing to wait, I will close the shutter now and deliver the introductory program to our foreign guests.”

  One of the K’Katta curled up a foreleg. The comm unit between the two chambers picked up a bit of clicking and whistling, then the alien’s translator box came on, speaking in a soothing male V’Dan voice. “It is a bit like erecting a retention wall after the rising water has already flooded the home, but we are content to wait. It is imperative to reassure our newfound allies that we are friendly, peaceful, and have no intent to cause harm.”

  The Gatsugi had returned their colors to calm light blues with only hints of cream and touches of green. Their chief spokesperson gestured with three hands, the fourth one remaining in its owner’s lap. “We/The Collective concur/agree/will abide with this/our esteemed/honorable K’Kattan delegate/representative. It/This situation is hoped/desired to be recovered/restored to a point/potential for peace/cooperation/regained trust/respect.”

  Imperial First Lord Ksa’an bowed his head as well. “I will also make a personal note to revoke two grants of merit from House Nanu’oc for the countess’ deplorable behavior, Your Highness. In the meantime, we will wait while you reassure our guests that our allies are peaceful and trustworthy.”

  “Thank you, meioas,” Li’eth agreed, and tapped the controls to close the shutters between the two chambers. Sighing, he turned to face the Terrans, wondering how to begin recovering from this protocol disaster.

  There had been four of the dozen-plus who hadn’t been scared into looking away, and three more had gradually peeked at and faced the K’Katta delegates. Or at least looked at the Gatsugi, doing their best to ignore the shorter aliens. But three remained with their gazes averted from the now solidly shuttered window, and one of them was the Grand High Ambassador. That would not do.

  “Ambassador, meioas, if you will direct your attention to the closed shutter, it is also a display screen. The video you are about to see was designed to allay the understandable concerns and instinctive fears of aboriginal cultures—those who do not normally participate in the modern ways of the Empire, and thus have little to no knowledge of who and what the K’Katta are,” he continued, pitching his voice to be soothing, friendly, and reassuring. “You may not be aboriginal, but your fears are still natural. There is no shame in being afraid of seeing something so different when it evokes instincts buried deep within our minds.

  “However, it is also a fact of modern life that the K’Katta are our allies and have been closely involved in helping us to develop advanced technology, including the artificial gravity weaves allowing us to occupy this station under normal living conditions instead of being forced to float around, as you experienced on your journey here,” he stated, and gestured at the shuttered window behind him. “They are kind, they are patient, they are honorable, and they very much prefer cooperation and trade over any other activity. In short, they are the best allies a peace-preferring nation could want.”

  Jackie looked at him a long moment, then edged away from the wall. One step, then two, she moved back toward her seat, putting her trust in him. So did the other three, another woman and two men. One of the ones who had not flinched away was her assistant, the older woman, Rosa. The former Premiere.

  That was a concept which continued to confuse him a little. Rosa McCrary was a woman who had been the equivalent of his mother, the Empress of V’Dan. She had been the Premiere of the Terran United Planets, their foremost leader, for several years . . . but was now below Jackie in her rank? Jackie had been the equivalent of an Imperial Advocate while Rosa had been an Empress of sorts, but now things were flipped, and the older woman was now junior to the younger.

  The dynamics of their past and current ranks made for almost too much fluidity in their social structure for him to comprehend. He wondered if any among his own people could possibly comprehend it.

  “. . . If you are all composed and ready, and if you will take the seats set out for you,” he added, gesturing at the padded chairs set in two rows, “I will begin the presentation. Please do not take offense at how it is aimed at those who are from presumably low-tech cultures. Given how each of our advanced nations is still learning about the other side, it was decided to simply use the presentation we already have, with the assumption that you do technically know little about the Alliance and its allies.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Jackie squared her shoulders and moved forward. Her outfit was similar to Rosa’s in that each wore a calf-length skirt, a jacket that fell to her hips, and a low-necked shirt underneath. Jackie’s outfit came in shades of peach and pale pink, and the other woman wore shades of blue and pale green. The Grand High Ambassador—Li’eth could see her pulling that side of her personality into place with each step—carefully moved to the front row. She took her seat between Rosa and the captain of the mah-reens, soldiers who were serving as the bodyguards and security specialists for the embassy.

  Her movement, dignity visibly regained, prompted the others huddled along the wall to uncurl and return to their own chosen seats, their expressions somewhat more embarrassed than unsettled, now. As everyone was situated, Li’eth tapped in the commands for the presentation, which filled the upper half of the w
indow.

  It was, as warned, designed for introducing the K’Katta to aboriginal cultures who did not pay much attention to modern society or modern technology, so it explained things in very simple terms. But it did give a general history of K’Katta/V’Dan relations, narrated by a V’Dan professor of xenoprotocols. The woman, standing to the left of the projected images, was accompanied at first by vague sketches of what the K’Katta looked like, then with still photos on the right.

  He knew the histories, but Li’eth had never needed to see this particular, watered-down version of them. Three times, wars were nearly started over misunderstandings, but in each instance, diplomacy finally won, and trade began. Those stories were intermixed with tales of K’Katta crews helping to rescue stranded V’Dan ships, the offering of supplies and parts, the cautious, painstaking learning of each other’s languages . . . only to find that syntax and grammar were remarkably similar to High V’Dan, even if neither side could physically pronounce each other’s words.

  Once the two sides could communicate, the K’Katta earnestly sought new sources of vegetables, fruits, nectars, and a very few flesh-based proteins. They eagerly exchanged artworks—particularly sculptures and musical compositions—and in general were interested in improving lives on all sides rather than harming them. Overall, the K’Katta were happiest when exchanging information and goods. Some of the most reassuring exchanges had come once enough of each other’s languages had been learned to allow translations of literary and entertainment works, though for the visual arts, most of that had flowed from the V’Dan to the K’Katta and not the other way around at first, for obvious reasons.

  The sketches of the stiff-furred spiders became animated as a brief discussion of K’Katta anatomy was given; the most unique feature was their dual skeletal system, with bones inside and chitin-like armor outside; the second-most-unique feature was how they could see into both the ultraviolet and infrared ranges, depending on which sets of eyes were being used.