First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  His mother sighed, deflating a little. “So long as ours is not the last generation . . . I really do not want to see the Salik fighting on V’Dan itself, Kah’raman. So far, we have kept them away, but we cannot replace our great ships at the rate the Salik can destroy them. The only troop-transport-sized ships I have at this moment to send to this Earth place to pick up extraneous troops are the ships of the home fleet.”

  “So let the Terrans help. Ask them to prove themselves in the next attack,” Li’eth suggested, leaning on the armrest closest to his mother.

  “They brought a diplomatic embassy to V’Dan, not a war fleet,” she countered.

  “They brought soldiers ready to fly and fight. Their Admiral-General Kurtz assured me their ships are prepared to defend V’Dan. All except for two of them,” he amended. At his mother’s curious glance, he explained. “If our system is attacked, the Embassy 2 will take off with Assistant Ambassador McCrary on board and retreat to a known but unoccupied system until they receive word that everything is safe, or are given the signal to retreat to Earth. Or are not contacted after a certain number of days. The Embassy 1 will remain in the presence of the Grand High Ambassador at all times as her personal transport.”

  “That . . . is clever of them,” the Empress acknowledged. “It ensures that they will hopefully keep safe at least one person with high authority who has the most accurate information on us, who is also familiar to us, should for some reason their chief ambassador perish.”

  “I would rather she didn’t perish, as that would condemn me to a slow death,” he muttered.

  “Assuming you truly are a holy pairing. I’ve been reading the reports of complaints by the High Priests on that subject,” she muttered back. “They do not like being upstaged.”

  “Speaking of which, my Empress . . . I think it would be best if you undertook some of their psychic mind exercises,” Li’eth offered cautiously. “As well as the Imperial Consort, of course. He will benefit quite a lot, but you will benefit greatly as well, in your own way.”

  She frowned at him. “Did they hit you on the head? Either the Salik or the Terrans? I am not blessed with holy gifts, Kah’raman. I was not born with them. They have not manifested at puberty, nor at any point in the following five decades.”

  “Master Sonam Sherap was the man who taught me,” Li’eth explained. “He is a professional teacher of gifted abilities, and he told me that all Humans have the ability to learn how to center their spirits, strengthen them by grounding them in a firm foundation once centered, and how to shield their minds against casual intrusion.

  “Jackie and I also caught a certain holy priest among the Sh’nai trying to read my thoughts. Without my permission, which is a very serious offense in Terran eyes. She suggested that my entire family should be trained in such mental disciplines, to prevent our minds from being swayed by the Sh’nai priesthood. Particularly you, to ensure you are free from undue influences. Just as I am now free from undue influencing from the Sh’nai.”

  “Yes, they told me about that. Or rather, mentioned how you just had to be influenced unduly by their Ambassador, with all this supposed nonsense of the two of you being a holy pairing,” his mother pointed out dryly.

  Li’eth shook his head. “It is not nonsense, and they would never attempt to influence me mentally. Invading and changing another person’s mind without their permission would be about as offensive to the Grand High Ambassador as it would be for you to urinate upon the Eternal Throne during full Court.”

  “Kah’raman!” Hana’ka exclaimed, scandalized by the suggestion.

  “That is a nongratuitous, accurate description of how offensive it would be,” he defended himself, braced against her scowl of disapproval. “They are a very honor-conscientious people, Mother.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I know.”

  She stared at him, studying his face. Breathing deep, Hana’ka let it out on a sigh. “Fine. So they’re honorable and conscientious, and this training will supposedly keep everyone out of my head.”

  “It will protect you from casual intrusion,” Li’eth corrected. “Master Sonam stated that once I attain the same Rank 15 as Jackie’s ability to speak mind-to-mind, her telepathy, a trio of three Rank 8 telepaths could still breach my mental defenses if they deliberately worked together to do so. But they have very firm rules against that sort of behavior.”

  “Well, may the Saints bless us with more miracles,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and flipping a hand.

  A door opened, and she quickly straightened, the serene, somewhat stern mask of the War Queen dropping back into place. Li’eth found himself straightening as well, slipping back into the old habits of formal presentation and demeanor among others. He almost slumped again, seeing who it was, but something about his eldest sister’s coolly composed expression had him warily maintaining proper posture.

  “Welcome back, Imperial Prince Kah’raman,” the Imperial Heir stated.

  “Thank you, Vi’alla,” he replied. “It’s good to be home.”

  Her left eye ticked just the tiniest bit on the underside. Stopping three lengths from their mother, she lowered herself to one knee. Vi’alla was wearing a dark red civilian variation of Li’eth’s uniform, not quite military in style but close enough to echo her mother’s War Queen garments. The color had purplish undertones, making it go well with her fuchsia-crescent marks. She rested her hands on her bent knee and regarded him levelly, if briefly. “I see the military has taught you informal habits.”

  She turned her attention to their mother, but the damage was done. The hint of censure in her tone irked him. Li’eth reminded himself that it had been a while since she had served. “The ways of the military have nothing to do with my greeting, Vi’alla. You are my sister. I show my love and affection through the intimacy of informality.”

  “Then it is the influence of these Terrans that have soured your etiquette,” she dismissed, giving him another brief look. “No matter. You are safely home, and seem to be healthy and well. That is what matters. Eternity, will His Imperial Highness be staying with us for a while before returning to his duties in the Fleet?”

  Hana’ka gestured for her daughter to rise. “No. I am going to appoint him as military liaison to the Terran Grand High Ambassador.”

  Slowing a little as she rose, Vi’alla slanted her gray eyes at her brother. The movement wrinkled the crescent on her left temple and brow, giving it the curve of a bull’s horn. Or a devil’s horn, given what I saw of Terran mythology, Li’eth thought. Then castigated himself for the uncharitable thought.

  A tap on his mind alerted him to Jackie’s mental presence. (Is something wrong?)

  (My eldest sister is simply being my eldest sister.)

  (Ah. Sorry. Good luck, and have a nice supper.)

  (I’d say the same for you,) he replied, (but I know you’re stuck with packet foods until your kitchen facilities can be set up properly.)

  (Assuming we can find them while we’re unpacking.) She sent him a mental hug before ending contact. It reminded him of the warm welcome her family had given him and his surviving bridge officers, replete with real hugs and those flower-and-leaf garlands which they had called na lei, and the hugs many others had offered throughout the lu’au feast, particularly as that afternoon on the beach had worn on into evening. So very different from the formal interactions between his family members.

  His mother and sister broke off their very polite, restrained debate over the wisdom of “. . . encouraging this nonsense of a holy pairing,” according to his sister, when their father entered the chamber. Imperial Consort Te-los shared more looks with his eldest daughter than with his eldest son, though her hair was blond and his brown. On her head—as on Li’eth’s and their mother’s—her jungen marks could be seen in the streaks of burgundy and fuchsia that permanently tinted their locks. Te-los had brown curves f
or his marks, which blended into his chest-length brunette strands, leaving his hair looking rather plain even when looked at closely. Until his hair turned fully white with age or was shaved away, no one could easily see where his scalp had been marked.

  Imperial Consort Te-los was also the only member of the family who did not have to drop to one knee before Her Eternity. He did bow formally, however, before crossing to his son. Li’eth rose to meet him, both embracing tightly. They shared more than just some of their looks; both men were holy ones.

  (I am so very glad you are alive, my son,) his father sent. It was ragged and uneven compared to the smooth telepathy of the Terrans, but that was understandable given the differences in training. (I have been praying to every Saint that could possibly hear that you would be the V’Daania destined to escape death by evil hunger and bring back allies that will win our war. I am both sad and glad that it came true.)

  (I was praying for it, too, Father,) Li’eth whispered back. He shoved away thoughts of his time in that Salik cage, focusing instead on images of Jackie. (I can’t wait for you to meet my holy partner—you will love her, I think, as much as I am coming to love her. She and the other holy ones have much to teach us about our gifts, too.)

  (I look forward to learning all about her and her people’s ways, my son,) Te-los agreed. (Though I think after several decades in the Imperial Court, I might be able to teach them a thing or two about reading auras, yes?)

  Li’eth smiled. (Possibly. I should like to send one of our ships to bring the teacher who taught me much about such things. I think he would like to know all that you have learned through experimenting and observing over the years.)

  (I shall look forward to meeting him, then . . . and I shall not monopolize your welcome home, Kah’raman.)

  They both hugged harder, then patted each other on the back and parted. Li’eth looked toward his eldest sister, but she had already taken her seat at the Empress’ right. No hugs from that direction. He wasn’t too surprised; Vi’alla believed firmly that the Imperial Blood should not show signs of affection in public.

  “Kah’raman!” The half shout came from the same door his father and sister had used, which was a different one than he had entered through. Balei’in, youngest of the siblings, rushed across the floor to hug his brother, only to be checked by a very stern throat-clearing from his eldest sister.

  Skidding to a stop, Balei’in started to go down on one knee, his indigo-marked face flushing on the paler spots with embarrassment over Vi’alla’s chastising. Hana’ka flicked her hand, giving him permission to not even bother. With the dexterity of a twenty-five-year-old, he relaunched himself at Li’eth without even touching knee to ground. Laughing, Li’eth hugged his youngest sibling, his only brother. He even lifted the younger male off his booted feet for a moment before Vi’alla cleared her throat again.

  Balei’in muttered something very uncomplimentary in Solarican under his breath. Li’eth only understood part of it, but it was enough that he coughed an affirmative in reply. The others were arriving, starting with Royal Consort Dei’eth, Vi’alla’s husband. The eldest of her three children was still only sixteen years old, too young to appear in court. The same with Ah’nan’s children; she was next in entering the room, secondborn of the Imperial brood. Her wife, Royal Consort Na’ju-la came with her, as did their Consort Royal, Chor’ru, trailing behind. All three of them dropped to one knee in unison

  As they did so, Li’eth realized that Vi’alla barely even looked at the Consort Nanny. His mother acknowledged the man, but her heir did not. When did she get so rude? He’s a Nanny, a professional of the Fourth Tier . . . no, wait, he’s Third Tier, a professor of Early Childhood Development. I keep forgetting he gave up his career when Na’ju-la asked him to sire children with her and Ah’nan.

  He was sorely out of the political loop. Dealing with officers was a bit more straightforward than this. Mainly because, Li’eth acknowledged as he hugged his next-eldest sibling, her wife, and their consort, in a military situation the seniormost-ranking officer got to decide just how formal or informal things could be.

  The rules and regulations of the Imperial Army were very clear on that point. It was very much like a clear-cut game of ca-mei, co-mei, Short Wall, Long Wall—the Terrans had a similar, simple ball-racket-and-wall game called pilota, he had learned. Compared to the straightforward and thus very clear “if it’s in the lines, it’s good; if it’s on or outside the lines, it’s bad” rules of ca-mei, co-mei, Imperial politics was like trying to play guanjiball and the complex Solarican tile-placement game of kaskat all while riding on those Terran surfboard things at high tide.

  He was very much out of practice, but as he hugged his next sibling to arrive, Mah’nami, Li’eth found himself slipping more out of, well, being Li’eth, captain of the Imperial Fleet, and more into being Kah’raman, thirdborn Imperial Prince. When the servants arrived with predinner drinks, he braced himself for a long evening. Most of his family loved him and were pleased to have him home, but he knew he had a lot of careful studying ahead of him, to gauge how the various undercurrents of Imperial favor and power flowed and moved these days.

  The sooner he got back into the habits of studying, weighing, and watching everything said around him, including his own words, the sooner he could use all that information to hopefully pave a smoother path to the Terrans becoming the Empire’s new best friends.

  CHAPTER 9

  MAY 18, 2287 C.E.

  JANVA 12, 9508 V.D.S.

  The great Tier plazas were modular. Jackie discovered that when the Terrans emerged from a set of tunnels that ran underneath the flagstones. The outer edges had been raised in risers that towered like valley walls on either side, lined with throngs of excited, cheering, curious V’Dan. Overhead, snow drifted down out of an overcast sky. The flakes struck the nearly invisible force fields of the Winter Palace and were shunted to either side with little sparks, tracing a nearly Gothic-arch outline far overhead. If those sparks made a sound, the noise from the crowd drowned it out.

  The force-field towers rose up above the grandstands, with giant projection screens hoisted between them, showing in detail various angles of the Terrans’ appearance. Those walls and the fields overhead also kept the air warmer than expected, particularly for a day in a seaside city that was cold enough to snow. She was glad she had heeded the Elite Guard’s advice on what temperature to actually dress for. As it was, her outfit was drawing some unusual stares. All of their clothing elicited stares.

  Around the outside, forming a rectangular shield wall, the Space Force Marines and Navy crew members who were not guarding the embassy zone and their ships had donned full, formal Dress Blacks. The Marines had their dress swords at their sides; the Elite Guard had declared that the swords were acceptable weaponry for an escort guard to bring into the Empress’ presence, though ranged weapons of any sort would not be allowed. There were three flag bearers, one for the blue flag of the Terran United Planets with its silvery-white oval map of the surface of the Earth enclosed in a laurel wreath, one with the flag of the TUPSF Marine Corps in brown and gold, and one with the flag of the TUPSF Navy in blue and gold, to differentiate it from the main flag.

  The civilian members of the staff clustered in the center of their honor guard wore a colorful array of formal clothes in shades from pastel pinks and lavenders to indigo and forest green. Jackie herself wore white. It wasn’t her best color, or even her favorite color, which would have been some shade of orange or perhaps a bright, cheerful peach, but the white of her pantsuit would be easiest for her to work with during her formal greeting presentation.

  The pants were a necessity; the top formed a petal-skirted dress in layers of the finest, lightest-spun silk, some sort of chiffon, or perhaps organza. Whatever it was, it floated on the mildest of breezes in layers like a peacock’s tail. Even her sleeves had a similar effect. In front, the layers were knee length, midsh
in at most; in back, they trailed on the ground, guaranteeing no one could walk closely behind her. Jackie picked her dresses to look good, not because she knew what they were made out of, and this outfit was no exception.

  Their approach to the Imperial Tier started at roughly the midpoint of the Fifth Tier Plaza, where the tunnel ramp emerged up into the center of the makeshift grandstands. It took them five minutes of walking to reach the start of the steps leading to the equally vast Fourth Tier Plaza, and a full minute to mount those steps. Staring down the long, artificial valley floor to the next set of stairs, at all the risers filled with yet more tens of thousands of people, Jackie began to feel a sinking sensation inside.

  (Overwhelmed?) Li’eth asked. He was hovering deliberately in her mind, ready to step in with a quick explanation of how to fix any protocol they might have missed, or skipped, or fumbled during this event. (I know it’s a bit more than the biggest crowds you exposed us to.)

  (No . . . well, yes,) she allowed honestly. (But I could deal with the crowds. I’ve spoken to the whole United Planets on several occasions, tens of billions at a time. It’s my presentation to your people, not my speech, that has me worried. It’s going to take us ten more minutes just to get to the Third Tier,) she told him. (And who knows how far across the Second, and the First . . .)

  (They’re shorter and smaller,) he reassured her.

  (But my presentation is for everyone to see,) she protested. (This is a lot of everyone.)

  (Our cameras will pick up and project everything.)

  (It’s . . . not quite the same thing . . . I think I may need a seat when I’m done.)

  (I’ll speak with my dear cousin about arranging for a seat for everyone as soon as your Premiere is introduced. That is the earliest we can arrange it—though it would go faster if your Premiere requested it,) Li’eth pointed out.