Harry was not sure, himself, where he stood on that. It was a complicated issue. For a start, Davie North himself was a member of the Founding Families, a descendant of those who had funded early space travel and the founding of the League. To a socialite like Harry, such people were the pinnacle of the social elite, and Davie’s wealth and social standing made him someone Harry would normally revere. On the other hand he knew that Davie North had been genetically engineered to superhuman levels of intellect, which was illegal in the League and something Harry personally considered abhorrent. He knew that Davie North had some extraordinary achievements in exodiplomacy to his credit already, including the phenomenal success of his work with Shionolethe, the only representative of her people ever to visit the League. Against that, though, was the fact that he had actually met Davie North and considered him to be entirely unworthy of the high status he held – quite honestly, an arrogant brat. On the whole, Harry would be relieved to hear that Davie North would not be involved in this mission.
‘That’s unlikely,’ Alex said. ‘Though I never say ‘impossible’ where Mr North is concerned. I don’t even know where he is at the moment – but the last time I saw him he was heading off on an exodiplomacy mission of his own.’
‘The quarian ambassador,’ Dan observed, with a grin.
The other two looked at him, Alex entirely unsurprised and Harry scandalised.
‘You are not supposed to know about that!’ Harry told him.
‘Well, neither are you,’ Alex pointed out, and as both of them looked at him, then, he laughed. And without quite knowing why, the other two joined in; a rare moment of genuine camaraderie.
As he was laughing, though, Alex was thinking of Davie, wondering as he already had many times how he was getting on. Davie had always believed that he was unique, engineered by the quarians to his father’s specifications. He had literally been designed to be the ultimate exodiplomat, with an intellect and abilities which would enable him to step up and represent humanity as they began to form relationships with the civilisations beyond the Firewall.
Davie had already begun to fulfil his design purpose. He had found a measure of happiness in that, too, making a life for himself. But always, even with a loving family and the good friends he had made, he knew himself to be the only one of his kind.
All that had changed with the news that the quarians had used the same genetic template to engineer a representative for themselves in their own dealings with humanity. That relationship had never gone well and in recent decades had been strained to breaking point. So now they had sent their Ambassador, adapted to quarian needs but Davie’s cousin, as it were, genetically. The last time Alex had seen Davie he’d been heading out to X-Base Serenity, at speed, to meet the ambassador and take on responsibility for her visit to the League. Alex had often thought about them, since, hoping that he might one day get to meet the quarian ambassador himself, but mostly just happy for Davie. He felt sure that the two of them were having a wonderful time, and certainly hoped that they were.
He had no way to know that at that precise moment, Davie North was wishing he had never been born.
Two
Eight weeks previously, the Stepeasy had arrived at X-Base Serenity with its crew in a state of high excitement and Davie himself almost ready to explode with delight.
The first intimation they had that anything was wrong came as they were swinging into orbit. Serenity, like all X Bases, was outside League borders, tucked out of the way in a system which had at least one nominally habitable planet. That almost invariably, as here, meant a slimeworld. It was possible to breathe there with no more than an oxygen boost nose clip, and to go for a walk if your idea of enjoyable scenery was rocks and algae-stinking bog. The base had been there for a good couple of centuries, though, with ever-expanding gardens around the base itself which by now included some quite respectable swathes of woodland. It was considered to be one of the more pleasant X-Bases to work at. It was quite active, too, as it was the entry point for Solarans visiting Cestus. Cestus was high on their list of places to see in human space – actually the world at which they’d finally succeeded in making first contact with humanity – so there was usually at least one Solaran ship in port there. The Diplomatic Corps ran a VIP shuttle service to Cestus aboard suitably disguised ships, so there would normally be one or two of their ‘freighters’ in port, too, standing ready to ferry visitors into League space.
There were no Solaran ships in port today, though, and the eleven Diplomatic Corps ships in orbit indicated that they had no visitors in transit or on Cestus itself. It looked as if the Solarans had stopped coming.
Davie was not unduly concerned by that. Solarans were inclined to withdraw from any situation where they felt bewildered, and even humans talking too fast could do that. It seemed likely that they were avoiding Serenity while the quarian ambassador was there, but no reason to think that was a serious issue.
Then the call came in. It was from the League Ambassador stationed at Serenity. Davie knew as soon as he saw the incoming call ID that there was a problem. The Diplomatic Corps prided themselves on their sedate protocols – correct etiquette in this situation would be for them to allow the Stepeasy at least half an hour to complete port arrival procedures before making calls to them.
‘Oh – Mr North!’
Davie could hardly believe what he was seeing. He’d been to Serenity before, several times, and knew the Ambassador here quite well. They’d never been friends, as His Excellency League Ambassador Tellis was a supremely dignified gentleman in late middle age who had no great opinion of modern youth at all, let alone genetically engineered kids who told him they could do his job in their sleep. Davie had been five at the time. He was sixteen, now, and usually more tactful in his dealings with officialdom. He had come prepared to cope with all the usual tedious patronising advice from the Ambassador, and all the grind of procedures, too, before they’d release the quarian into his care. But here the Ambassador was, looking so haggard that Davie hardly recognised him. He was still clinging to some level of professionalism, but his neatly glossed hair only made his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks seem even more unhealthy, while his smart suit hung off him as if it was draped on a skeleton. He looked as if he hadn’t slept or eaten properly for weeks. And, though he was attempting to speak calmly, there was an undertone of thank God in that greeting which conveyed sheer desperation. ‘You’re here,’ he said, with evident relief. But then, as someone off screen drew something to his attention, a spasm of emotions flashed across his face. Davie, with his superhuman acuity, saw alarm, relief and guilt in the moment before the Ambassador managed to resume a reasonably calm façade. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘She’s already on her way.’
Davie could see on another monitor that a shuttle had just taken off from the base. He could also see the alert that was flashing up because it did not have launch clearance. A maximum hazard was being declared, with all other traffic told to get out of the shuttle’s way. There was no other traffic, as it happened, but there was an edge of panic in that alert.
‘There’s nothing we can do.’ The Ambassador looked as if it was only the remnants of his dignity preventing him from breaking down in tears. ‘She can override all our security systems.’
Davie managed, just, not to burst out laughing. There was a surge of pride in him, too, and a deep sense of kinship. He nearly said ‘That’s my girl!’ but recognised just in time that this wasn’t the diplomatic response.
‘Have there been some difficulties, then?’ he asked, with an air of mild sympathy. It would take the shuttle two and a half minutes to reach them, so he had time to chat before the quarian arrived.
‘Difficulties?’ The Ambassador caught his breath to hold back an unprofessional outburst. ‘You could say that, yes,’ he said, with great restraint. ‘Admiral Boniface has resigned. He and nine of the base personnel are now living over in the survival pod. Fourteen of my own staff have left and most of the remain
der are on anti-stress medication. I can’t even begin…’ he shook his head helplessly. ‘Nightmare,’ he said, and repeated it with a despairing note. ‘Nightmare.’ He was working at screens as he spoke. ‘I’m sending you the reports.’
Davie read them as they came in, easily absorbing the information from five different screens streaming text and data at a speed which was just a blur to human eyes.
It was a highly informative four seconds, and this time he just couldn’t stop himself cracking into laughter.
It was immediately obvious what the problem was. The Diplomatic Corps themselves had identified the issue very quickly after the quarian’s arrival. They just hadn’t been able to do anything about it.
Communication with quarians had always been problematical, partly because quarians themselves were highly empathic and much of their conversation took place at non-verbal levels few humans could sense. At the same time, humans themselves were a bewildering noisy mess to quarians. In their endeavour to bridge that gulf, therefore, the quarians had engineered their ambassador to be so highly sensitive an empath that she might learn to read humans.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t included any concepts of privacy, tact or discretion. How could they? They had no concept of such things themselves, any more than they had of lying or deception.
The degree of mayhem a totally frank, tactless empath could cause was evident from the reports. The Port Admiral had indeed resigned his command after the quarian had commented with keen curiosity on the affair he was having with one of his subordinates – a revelation likely to cost him his marriage as well as his career. Others had had deeply personal matters exposed, too, while others were stressed out with the anxiety that their deepest darkest secrets might be commented on at any moment.
Quite apart from that, though, no attempt to establish a relationship had succeeded because she appeared, they said, to display multiple identities and as fast as they started to get to grips with one she’d switch into a completely different personality. One of the minor difficulties, indeed, was that she was continually changing her name.
The quarians, in a typical misunderstanding, had actually called her Ambassador, which she’d realised very soon on arrival here was actually a job title and not supposed to be someone’s name. Since then she’d tried out nine different names, along with a bewildering array of costumes and personality changes. She was evidently trying to establish a sense of identity in this weird new environment. Understandable, perhaps, said the reports, but it had made it very difficult to engage in meaningful relationship.
And then, of course, there was the security issue. As indicated by Ambassador Tellis, she could override every security system in the base, and did so whenever she wanted. Attempts to get her to understand that locks and seals were there for a reason and she must not bypass them had failed. Such devices might be necessary to keep humans safe, she said, but she saw no reason why they should apply to her.
Davie had suffered all his childhood from the well-meaning attempts of human adults to keep him safe, even when they had to know that he was far more intelligent and capable than they were. He was almost crowing with vicarious pride, seeing the way the quarian girl had refused to be trammelled and confined. They were going to get along great, he thought, and in that moment had a wonderfully sunny vision of how it was going to be. He would give her the freedom of his ship, releasing her from the petty stupid rules humanity devised for themselves. They’d have fun, such fun, heading off wherever she wanted to go. He would help her to learn about humans, too, with a lot of laughs along the way. He was glowing with warm, happy anticipation.
‘Never mind,’ he told Ambassador Tellis, who was coming as close as a diplomat could to glaring at him for those mischievous giggles. His fingers were flashing over screens, and he transmitted all the necessary documents to confirm that he now had responsibility for the quarian. ‘Tag,’ he said, ‘I’m It.’
Ambassador Tellis didn’t understand the reference – he must presumably have been a child at some point but the experience had been buried deep under more than half a century of bureaucracy. He did, however, recognise the official documentation, and that flash of relief crossed his face again, followed almost immediately by another twinge of guilt.
Why guilt? Davie wondered, and then realised. Of course, the Ambassador was feeling bad because of his relief at offloading this nightmare onto them.
Not that bad, though, as he was signing the documents his end like a man going for a record in the completion of exodiplomacy handover forms.
‘We would appreciate it if you could take your departure as quickly as possible,’ he said, with a clear subtext of ‘Go – please, God, go!’ ‘Unless you are in need of supplies…?’
‘No, we’re good, thanks.’ Davie could see that the shuttle was approaching, and got to his feet with a grin and a gesture that was half wave, half salute. ‘Ciao, Excellency.’
His Excellency League Ambassador Tellis gave a short nod in reply and cut off the call, rather obviously about to drop his head into his hands the moment the camera was off.
Davie made his way to the main airlock. The Stepeasy was an eight deck ship, rather bigger than a frigate and fully meriting the description ‘superyacht’. It had a crew of thirty eight and Davie’s personal retinue of eighty seven – security, medics, business executives, lawyers, chefs, valets and other essential personnel. As always when he moved around the ship, he was followed by a discreet team including a highly qualified doctor with an emergency response kit, a personal bodyguard, a business aide and a steward carrying snacks in case he wanted something to eat. Davie paid no more attention to them than he did to his own shadow. He did, however, give orders that the normal security provision at the airlock was to stand down.
‘Yes, Mr North,’ said the security chief, without even a fraction of a second’s hesitation.
Davie smiled. It still pleased him to be able to give such orders and have them obeyed – until just a few months ago both his security and medical staff had been employed by his father and had taken their instructions from him. It had taken a firm declaration of adult independence to convince Papa that he was now able to make such decisions for himself. And even then, it had been a while before the security staff, in particular, had got used to taking their orders from him. Now, though, there was no question about it. So the ring of armed personnel who would normally gather around the airlock at the arrival of a stranger was whisked away, leaving Davie himself to override the security and quarantine procedures at the airlock itself. There was no way he was going to subject the quarian ambassador to the indignities of being scanned and sprayed with disinfectant before she was allowed aboard.
Then he just had to stand and wait, watching as the shuttle came in to dock. This was going to be one of the greatest moments of his life.
He knew what to expect, as the shuttle docked and the airlock opened. The news of her arrival at Serenity had been accompanied by a file which had included images and a genetic sample. So he knew that she was a year younger than him, the same height – 1.52 metres – and with the same light, athletic physique. There was a familial resemblance in their fine-boned features and the warm amber of their skin tone.
There were, however, differences. Besides the empathy, the quarians had engineered her to have gills, since it was inconceivable to them that a member of their species would not be able to breathe underwater. With due regard for the fact that humans would not allow her to visit their worlds unless she looked human, though, they had engineered the gills to be internal. They had also given her hair and eye colours which were normal amongst their people. So her hair was a gleaming platinum and her eyes a brilliant, almost metallic indigo. Davie’s own hair was a dark mop, his eyes deep brown. Those were trivial, cosmetic differences, though. It had thrilled him to see just how much they did have in common – including what was for him the bane of his life, the need to consume at least twenty thousand calories a day even when he wasn’t
very active. Most thrilling of all, any genetic analysis would reveal them to be not only of the same genome, but related at the level of cousins. There was a huge grin on his face and his whole being radiated welcoming delight as the airlock hatch swung open.
The quarian ambassador winced at the sight of him and took a step backward.
‘Shut up!’ she told him indignantly, and when this didn’t have any immediate effect, ‘Stop screaming!’ Then, giving him no time at all to respond, she gave a wild hooting yell and flapped her arms above her head. ‘Owowowoow!’
Davie stepped back quickly and did his best to calm down fast, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again she lowered her arms, surveying him with a doubtful air which shaded into disappointment.
‘A bit better,’ she conceded, ‘but your head is a mess!’ She took a little step towards him with that, studying him as if trying to make sense of a chaotic pattern. ‘I thought you’d be like me,’ she said, with a note of pathos. ‘But you’re just a really noisy, messy human.’
Some of Davie’s tumultuous emotions resolved, at that, and broke out in a broad grin.
‘Right back at you, kid,’ he said, and gazed at her in fascination. She had come aboard the ship wearing a startling combination of clothing – a pink frilled tuxedo shirt with a yellow hiking jacket, the pants of a blue business suit and army boots. Her platinum hair was screwed up roughly into a stubby bunch on top of her head and she had one eye elaborately made up while the other had no makeup at all. ‘You’re so quarian!’
‘Well, duh,’ said the quarian ambassador. ‘And I am not a kid,’ she added, with some dignity. ‘My name is Absy.’ That had not been what it said on the files transmitted from Serenity – evidently she’d gone through another change of identity during the shuttle trip. ‘Short,’ she told him, seeing a little surprise, ‘for Absolutely Not A Mermaid.’
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