First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  A video appeared on the screen of a K’Katta chitter-whistling shrilly and the translator box—programmed for words but not much in the way of inflection—cried out, “Oh I am in pain! I have agony! This hurts very badly!” while V’Dan medical personnel attempted to calm the alien and splint a bloodied, compound-fractured leg, while one of the medics apologized over and over for not having any K’Katta-compatible anesthetics on hand.

  Li’eth sensed several underthoughts in turmoil in his Gestalt partner. They were linked by a sort of quantum entanglement of their minds, and he could feel her fear of the giant, spiderlike beings mixing awkwardly with her compassion for the injured, shrilly whistling and swiftly clicking alien. He didn’t reach out to her; he didn’t want to interrupt the message being delivered.

  There were more scenes of fuzzy miniature K’Katta playing and rolling and climbing—no doubt the images were provided in the belief that the children of most species were considered cute by V’Dan aesthetics, which surely wasn’t too different for the Terrans—and pictures of slightly older ones learning in the K’Katta equivalent of a school. Images of K’Katta creating art, of playing chime-and-drum music that was slightly atonal to V’Dan ears but still breathtakingly beautiful . . . and then the news of the Salik War. That pleased Li’eth, to know that someone in the Protocol Department was keeping these presentations reasonably up-to-date, if not necessarily tailored for their newest friends.

  The K’Katta, the film explained, had been hard-hit by the Salik because the K’Katta preferred negotiation over conflict. That meant the Salik had decimated five colonyworlds before the aliens had regretfully stopped trying to negotiate and started fighting back. They were hard to motivate to fight and did not like to press a battle when a foe turned to flee. But once they were committed, they did fight hard when defending themselves and their allies.

  The film concluded with a speech by the V’Dan professor of xenoprotocol stating that, “. . . Though we may instinctively find these beings fearsome in appearance, and though your fears will not fade today just because you have learned several important facts, I hope you can now acknowledge with honesty that these are indeed gentle, worthy allies.

  “They are beings who have a lot more in common with the average V’Dan’s thoughts, feelings, wishes, and needs than the Salik, who are bipedal and monoskeletal, ever could have with our people. The K’Katta are sentient beings the Empire is proud to call our friends. And the more we openly acknowledge it and repeat it to ourselves, the less fearsome they will appear, until we can see them for what they truly are: one of the best allies the Empire could possibly have.”

  The presentation ended with neatly scribed vertical characters, V’Dan characters, suggesting several keywords to use when searching for more information in their data matrices.

  Li’eth ended the program and waited to see if anyone had a comment to make. The other woman who had been frightened—one of the captains of the fifteen ships that had ferried everyone here, if he remembered right—spoke up in the silence. “I think I would have been a lot more reassured if I had seen that before seeing those . . . alien beings.”

  Jackie dragged in a deep breath and let it out. “I myself find it reassuring to hear that they are more gentle than fearsome . . . but I am also still unnerved by even just the memory of their appearance. Not as much as I was to begin with, but . . .”

  “I feel sorry for them,” Captain al-Fulan said. That earned him several bemused looks. He shrugged, glancing around at the others. “They have no racial fear of us, yet must deal with our fear of them . . . and as our people say,” he added, looking over at the prince, “‘What we do not understand, we fear; what we fear, we hate; and what we hate, we destroy.’ I may be in the military, but I would rather not get to the hating stage, let alone the point where we destroy. That would not be polite of us, at the very least.”

  Discussion, Li’eth knew, was an important part of the desensitization process. He pointed at the man who had refused to look. “What about you, meioa-o? How do you feel now, having learned these things?”

  The Terran looked around at the others, then touched his chest, brows lifting in silent inquiry. At Li’eth’s nod, the dark-skinned man spoke. “I’m a nurse practitioner, and . . . I want to get a degree in xenobiology. Real xenobiology, not just the animals found back on Earth; that’s veterinarian medicine. I want to learn about new sentient races, and how to cure their ills, how to make them feel better. But . . . Don’t mistake me, I felt really bad for that . . . poor broken leg, that was a nasty compound fracture. But they still look creepy and scarier than a moggofroggo.”

  (Jackie, what is a . . . ?)

  (I believe it’s similar to a modofrodo,) she replied quickly. The subthoughts that came across involved unpleasant epithets and socially unacceptable personality slurs. Out loud, she said, “Don’t worry, Arthur. There are several friendly alien races to choose among for your studies.”

  Arthur . . . Jackman, that’s his family name, Li’eth reminded himself. He was used to keeping track of hundreds of courtiers, advisors, officers, and soldiers, but it wasn’t nearly as easy memorizing names and faces among the Terrans. Their lack of jungen made that task a bit difficult for him, particularly if there was more than one person with a similar set of skin tone and hair color in a group. For that much, he envied Jackie’s easier time in telling them apart, but he wasn’t surprised that she had memorized all those names and faces.

  “I know, but I feel guilty, feeling squeamish about this particular race,” the nurse, Arthur, said. “Guilt compounded on top of fear. My oaths as a medical professional are in conflict with my abhorrence of . . . of things with that many legs.” He shuddered, and the man next to him touched his shoulder in sympathy.

  “Well, if it will help,” Rosa stated, “I will volunteer to interact with the K’Katta. I find their appearance a little disturbing because it’s so unusual, but not frightening. I believe I can get used to it quickly enough.”

  “That . . . might be the best idea, Rosa,” Jackie admitted slowly. She shook her head, standing so that she could face the large, shuttered window. “But for now, I must find the nerve to greet them calmly, rationally, and politely. Just as I will greet their foremost ambassador when we move on to the planet. It isn’t their fault I’m afraid. Now . . . is everyone ready, or do we need a few more moments?”

  A hand raised, one of those whose reaction had been in the midrange, so she nodded and changed the subject. “Arthur, how are Dr. Du and the others coming along?”

  He looked relieved to be talking about his work rather than the aliens on the other side of the shuttered window. “Quite well, actually; they’ve been running tandem gene-splicing sims on both our and their machines, and the results have been matching within a 0.2 percent variance with the normal strain. But that’s down from over 5 percent found in yesterday’s experiments, so things are proceeding rather quickly.

  “That is to say, we’re talking about an insertion on a single chromosome pair; there’s pretty much zero risk of the splice’s happening on any other pairs,” the nurse practitioner added. “So it’s a larger improvement than that sounds. A few more runs, a little bit more tweaking and they should have the viral delivery agent perfected. Dr. Kuna’mi has been working on setting up a markless version of the jungen virus, but she’ll still need at least two more days of hard biocoding, plus an extra day to free up enough machines to begin running the sims.”

  “I hope somebody else understood all of that,” one of the others muttered, a quip that provoked a few chuckles.

  “Bottom line, Arthur?” Rosa asked, craning in her seat to look at him.

  “One week to live testing, and we already have a list of volunteers,” he stated confidently. Then amended with a shrug, “Provided nothing huge goes wrong, of course.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Rosa agreed. “I’d like to try some of the loca
l foods without risking anaphylactic shock.”

  “Alright,” Jackie stated, as the others nodded. The general expressions of her fellow Terrans had calmed from the fright of earlier. “On the other side of that shutter, we have three sets of allies. One set looks like us, but with funny, painted faces. One set doesn’t look that much like us . . . and I’ve already envied their four arms long before we met them,” Jackie added wryly. “Usually, whenever I’m trying to carry too much at once.”

  That earned her a few chuckles.

  Dipping her head in acknowledgment, Jackie continued. “. . . And one looks like a nightmare, but which we are reassured are actually good friends. So . . . deep breaths . . . let it out slowly . . . deep breaths again . . . and out slowly . . . and a third deep breath . . . now breathe normally . . . good, good. Everyone braced and ready?”

  She received several nods. No one shook their head. Turning to face Li’eth and the window, she squared her shoulders. “We are ready to meet members of the Alliance, and our future new allies.”

  (Are you sure?) Li’eth queried, hesitating. (I can still “hear” your fear in your underthoughts.)

  She met his gaze levelly, brown eyes honest yet determined. (Does it matter if I am still afraid or not? Greeting all of them politely is the correct thing to do . . . so I will do it.)

  (You are a very brave, mature woman.) Turning, he touched the controls. “We will be opening the window shutters in just a moment. Please be seated, meioas. Thank you for your patience.” Turning back to the Terrans, he said, “Remember, there are no enemies here, only allies and friends. Not all of them are Human, but all of them are peaceful. They are here to speak with you out of duty, curiosity, the intent to welcome you to this world, and to introduce you to the Alliance a few nations at a time.”

  Gauging the auras of everyone in the room, Li’eth finally opened the shutters with a touch on the controls. They parted vertically, retracting into the ceiling and the floor. All of the Terrans save for their leader were seated; all of their viewers were seated as well. For a few moments, the two sides studied each other in silence, observing the differences.

  The Terrans who were soldiers and ship crew members wore either a brown or a blue military uniform, both sets striped down sleeves and trouser legs in black with matching black boots and belts. The Terrans who were civilians were clad in a variety of colors, the cuts more varied, ranging from skirts to trousers, loose blouses to fitted shirts, most with a light jacket, as the station’s ventilation system kept the air slightly on the cool side of comfortable. Footwear varied just as much.

  The Gatsugi sat on chairs not much different from V’Dan furniture, save that they had a two-tier armrest style they preferred for supporting the upper and lower pairs of forearms. They were clad in gathered trousers and bell-sleeved tunics dyed in shades of blue and green and things of clear pale yellow, wearing pale gray vests embroidered in cheerful shades that in both the Gatsugi and the V’Dan languages denoted their names, ranks, and general importance. Their skin tones were complementary shades of blue with hints of peach-gold, with the two reporters at the back the peachiest of the quartet.

  The K’Katta sat on slightly bowl-shaped objects similar to rather tall footstools; that height allowed them to sit more or less with their eyes at the shoulder level of the V’Dan and the Gatsugi. The padded edges supported their upper knee joints, and a padded rim midway down the sides supported their feet-claws. Li’eth knew that their truefeet and midfeet claws were clad in fitted sheaths that protected the floor surfaces from those sharp tips. The handfeet claws were left bare, since those weren’t the ones kept sharp for climbing or self-defense.

  Those claw sheaths blended into their brown and tan bodies—female K’Katta were lighter in color than males—but the sashes tied around their abdomens and upper thighs did not. The ones wrapped around their torso equivalents were broad and pastel; those that were attached to their legs were darker and thin, barely ribbons. Out of deference to being paired with the Gatsugi for this initial interview, they had selected compatible colors, light and clear, mostly in the cool tones instead of the warmer ones.

  All things considered, when they relaxed like that, legs drooping down and outward a little, they didn’t look like actual spiders. Considering how many of his own people were still instinctually unnerved by such things, Li’eth had no idea why the Immortal High One had thought it a good idea to allow spiders to make the crossing along with pollinating insects, birds, frogs, so on and so forth. Unless it was purely to ensure that the insects brought across didn’t outbreed the local versions before the native predators could develop a taste for them. That was just speculation, however; it wasn’t as if the Immortal would ever show up, reveal herself, and allow him to ask why allow spiders to come along during the d’aspra.

  The silence was broken by the chief K’Katta delegate curling up his leg toward his mouthparts. Whistling and clicking as those parts moved were quickly translated by the device riding on the top of his neck, and the comm system between the two chambers obligingly transmitted all of it. “We apologize for appearing like monsters from the depths of your subconscious minds—”

  Jackie lifted her hand, palm out, then quickly flipped it palm toward herself, V’Dan-style. “—No, please,” she interrupted, facing them on her feet. “Never apologize for the way your people look. That is simply how you were born, how your people evolved. You should not feel bad, or be made to feel bad, simply because of an accidental reaction from someone else. We Terrans pride ourselves on looking beyond surface appearance. That some of us have failed is our shame, not yours. My shame, not yours. Never yours.”

  Li’eth could feel the sincerity in her words, a bright earnest yellow in her aura, a feeling of cream riding on the top of milk in her mind. Curdled milk, for the fear was still there, and it was larger than her sincerity, but she had it under tight control. Locked down.

  “It is I, as the representative of my people, who must apologize to you. To all of you. Please forgive our reactions.” She managed a closed-mouth smile in Li’eth’s direction before looking back at the others, his fellow V’Dan, and the Gatsugi seated in the middle. “After having seen the protocol film, my fellow Terrans and I believe we would not have reacted quite so badly. It was not your fault that the shutters were opened before any context could be given to us to help soothe our subconscious minds.”

  (You’re doing very well,) Li’eth praised her as she paused for breath.

  (Creepycreepycreepycreepy,) was her reply. It wasn’t even really aimed at him, but at least it was intermixed with, (I will not freak out . . . They are sentient beings . . . Creepycreepycreepycreepy . . .)

  “Nor was it any fault of yours,” the K’Kattan envoy graciously allowed, bringing up a handfoot to gesture toward the window. “We are accustomed to witnessing unease among some of our V’Dan allies. If there is anything we can do to reassure you that we are friendly and not fierce, please let us know.”

  “At the moment . . . I shall be honest and say that if you simply refrain from sudden or swift movements, we should be reasonably alright,” she returned.

  Li’eth sensed a rising tide of fear and reached for her mind with his own. Clasping her mental hands, he held her firmly. (They will obey, they will be slow, they will be graceful and not abrupt . . .)

  (Thank you.)

  “As you wish, Grand High Ambassador. We shall be like thickened honey before you,” the envoy assured her.

  “. . . With that said,” Imperial First Lord Ksa’an stated, rising to his feet, “I shall introduce the K’Kattan delegation first. Grand High Ambassador Maq’en-zi, please be seated for your comfort.”

  Nodding, Jackie sat down. Li’eth moved away from the side of the window, taking one of the spare chairs at the back of the room. When they were settled, his distant cousin began.

  “The one who speaks is the First Protocol Advisor to
Grand High Ambassador K’kuttl’cha of K’Katta. For the sake of pronunciation and convenience, his name and title—and those of the others—have been translated into V’Dan as First Protocolist Ch’chik. Seated to his far side is Commander-of-Hundreds Twee-chuk-chrrrrr,” Ksa’an continued, rolling the Rs with the tip of his tongue. He gestured with his hand at the front of the two tan-furred aliens. “She is an officer in their Guardian Army and is the head of security for the Grand High Embassy of K’Katta to the V’Dan Empire. She may be addressed as Commander Twee, Commander-of-Hundreds, or Guardian Twee.

  “Behind them is Honorable Twer-chih’chik,” he continued, shifting his outstretched hand to indicate the final tan-furred, not-a-huge-spider entity sitting on the third stool in the back, “who represents the K’Katta news collectors for the V’Dan System . . .”

  APRIL 30, 2287 C.E.

  DEMBER 24, 9507 V.D.S.

  “And then I said to the mathematics professor, ‘But you yourself said zero isn’t nothing; zero is everything, so how could I have gotten a failing grade on that paper just because I proved it?’” V’kol quipped as he and Li’eth entered the entertainment lounge. “Which was only parroting what he himself had said when he assigned that lecture!”

  Li’eth laughed. “Did you at least get the . . . grade . . . corrected?”

  He trailed off, looking around the nearly empty chamber. It was large enough to hold eighty or so people, and should have held around eighty, but there were only two people inside. In specific, a certain demoted, green-marked private, who sat in one of the padded chairs, switching entertainment channels in a slow, desultory fashion, and a certain blond Terran seated at the opposite end of the broad couch. But the off-duty hours of Lieutenant Brad Colvers wasn’t his concern. Shi’ol’s on-duty hours were.

  “Private Nanu’oc, aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the hangar-bay floor right now?” he asked, keeping his tone mostly mild. The disappearance of the Terrans was important, but merely a matter of curiosity, not of missed duty.