Diplomacy Squared

by Sydney Blackburn

  Portya looked over Diego's shoulder to the ambassador. "This mean have permission? You do ceremony?"

  Nihla sank into his seat and wave dismissively at them. "Yes. You are both 'weird', but I shall make the necessary arrangements. You need to talk to Athel. Ambassador Karim. For permission from Earth to bring Bahaghari's family, and so forth."

  Portya grabbed Diego in a tight embrace, eyes crinkled to almost shut. "Thank you, Ambassador Nihla."

  NINETEEN

  Ambassador Karim had been surprised at the request, but given the Earth government's mandate to "mingle" with the Antho, he said he would use that as his argument to allow a dozen of Diego's friends and family on Earth to come to the station for the wedding. "It won't be legal, of course."

  "Why not? I mean, there's no laws against it, right?"

  Karim had smiled. "Do you really want to take on that fight?"

  "Register it, then ask me again when it's challenged."

  Portya had wanted to know what it meant, and Diego had explained as best he could. It wasn't as difficult to explain as some Human conventions, those dependent on the separation of male and female biological functions, for example. Portya agreed Beresh would not consider Diego a lawful person under their laws, either. Trying to explain "gay" to someone for whom gender didn't exist had been interesting.

  All of that had been a picnic on the beach compared to this trip to Earth. For logistics, he'd combined the usual station supply run and an exchange of Earth personnel with collecting his family. Wilma and Rudy would represent his friends, the ones he couldn't bring because of his aunt, uncle, cousins, brother, sister and assorted in-laws who all needed to be there, according to his mother.

  If that were only the hardest part. At least as the Fold pilot and captain of the ship, he'd been too busy to listen to his mother's continued warnings against this marriage.

  The trip had also taken three times as long as a normal supply run and Diego was feeling Portya's absence keenly. What if he changed his mind?

  "They only care about you, and want what's best for you," Wilma said from her seat in the tiny bridge room. Her voice startled him, reminded him he had enough worries without imagining more.

  "I know," he said. He glanced over to her. Her shoulder-length brown hair had been pulled back for instrumentation clearances and stuck out from the base of her head like a duck's tail. They had flown together for almost ten years and she'd always worn her hair the same way. He never even teased her about it anymore. "What do you think of it?"

  "I think you're crazy. All relationships are work, but this." She shook her head. "This isn't just marrying a white NECS with strangely different holiday customs, this is huge."

  "You think I—"

  "But he makes you happy," she continued, cutting off a protest that he'd practically memorized. Wilma turned her head and winked. "If I ever found anyone who made me that happy, I'd jump into the unknown too. And," she added, returning her attention to the controls in front of her, "your family will see that, once they meet Portya."

  "I hope so," Diego said with a sigh. "Ready to do the Fold Emerge?"

  "Start the equations, Captain."

  *~*~*

  Diego hung back in the crew area, forcing Wilma and Rudy to see to the off-loading of the passengers and cargo, just to delay dealing with his mother one more time. Portya had arranged their temporary quarters, so he wouldn't have to live with them the two days they were here.

  Portya.

  He missed him, but since his own family had been flown up in an Antho shuttle from Beresh, he doubted Portya would have time to meet him. The ambassadors had only been permitted by their respective governments to allow this breach in station protocol, or whatever it was called, for two days.

  The wedding, or weddings, would be an all-day affair, taking up the large cafeteria tomorrow. All normal work was suspended—there wasn't anyone on Mikesi who didn't know the first interspecies union was happening, no one who didn't know about Administrator Portya and his Human lissande.

  Debates were already starting within the United Earth Government about the legality of such a union under Earth laws. Video would be sent to both governments. Diego had always known he'd have a big wedding—his mother would have invited every living relative to boast that her last child was finally getting married. But he'd never in a million years wanted it to be a political event. Or a "diplomatic incident" as some of the more critical press from Earth was calling it, as if it were a disaster in Earth-Beresh relations. If it had been possible, he'd have whisked Portya off to a sunny beach somewhere for a destination wedding. Well, given his lover's low-light origins, maybe a moonlit beach. Instead, he tried to focus on his mother's protestations, and the way his sisters argued with her.

  If only eloping had been a viable option, he thought desperately. He tugged at his uniform tunic, a fashion take on military tunics adopted by the civilian shipping companies, and took a few deep breaths.

  He had to secure the ship and shuttles which provided another few minutes delay that he took gratefully. He double-checked everything, and a third time just to make sure. Or delay his leaving the ship. Out of excuses, he walked through the airlock as if entirely confident that everything was going to be one hundred percent perfectly okay.

  And there, scanning the dock in obvious agitation, was Portya. Diego grinned, and thought his face might crack as Portya caught sight of him. He methodically parted the small crowd of people between them, ignoring stevies, diplomatic staff, and family to concentrate on Diego.

  They met in front of Diego's mother, naturally, and then he was engulfed in Portya's arms. Home. Portya's grassy scent soothed all his nerves, or at least eased them enough to be easily ignored. "Missed you," Portya rasped in his ear.

  Diego returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. Portya had no inhibitions when it came to public displays of affection, and Diego had come to love that about him. He let go of Portya so he could say, "Missed you too," to his beloved's face.

  Portya kissed him, catching him off-guard. But he returned that too, oblivious to who might be watching. "How's our zygote?" Diego whispered, sliding his hand subtly over Portya's belly.

  "Still there," Portya replied with an eye crinkle. "I worry you decide I not worth all the work."

  Diego chuckled. "You're worth everything, though I wished we might have run away together."

  Portya's eye crinkle deepened. "I understand."

  Diego almost fell as his mother elbowed him aside. "So. You a man my son marry."

  Her Syncrete was worse than Portya's, and she never felt the need to change that. As far as she was concerned, learning it was a waste of time, because, "I'm never leaving Manila."

  "Man?" Portya looked at Diego.

  "Pesserantha," Diego said with a wink.

  "No, Diego's birth parent. I Antho. My name Portya."

  Diego opened his mouth to referee and found himself tugged by the arm. Wilma winked. "Let them work it out. Are your in-laws here?"

  Diego scanned the crowd, his sights finally settling on a pair of Antho who were clearly a couple. One taller, like Nihla, one shorter like the dockworkers. They were holding hands, arms looped in what looked like a complicated twist. "That's them, I bet."

  She nudged him with a pointy elbow in the back. "Go say hi. They're gonna love you."

  Diego doubted that. He made his way over, careful to avoid eye contact with Portya—Portya needed to figure out how to deal with his family in his own way, even if it meant alienating them—and stopped in front of the pair who had to be Portya's parents. "Hello," he said, with a brief incline of his head. "I'm Diego Bahaghari. Portya's…um, lissande."

  The Antho looked at each other, then at Diego with crinkled eyes. He'd probably used the word incorrectly, but he seemed to have gotten the point across. "Curia," said the taller one, extending his hand.

  Diego took it, squeezing it gently in Antho fashion rather than shaking it. Curia had Portya's golden eyes and red skin tone
, but his hair was different. It lacked the solid swatches of colour Portya's had, but the red was liberally streaked with white. "Pleasure," Diego said.

  "Laysel," said the shorter one. He was mostly black, with red undertones, and his hair had almost no red at all. His hair had similar streaking, much like way Humans turned silver or grey with age.

  "Laysel," Diego repeated, as he took his hand. Curia and Laysel, now why did that sound familiar? But of course it did—Portyacurialaysels! "You are Portya's seed parent?" It was so tempting for him to match "seed parent" with "father" and "birth parent" with "mother." Most Antho couples had at least two children, allowing each of them to experience being a birth parent.

  "Yes, seed parent, you understand? Portya say pesserantha not really…" Laysel made a gesture Diego wasn't entirely sure of the meaning—Antho body language didn't have precise meaning—but he thought he understood that Laysel meant comprehension, or something along those lines.

  "There is much Portya and I have to learn about our cultures," he said, not sure how much Curia and Laysel would understand. "Learning." He mimicked the inquiring angle of head Portya used and said, "You are not unhappy he chose me?"

  They exchanged a look. "Portya our minessa," Laysel said. "Pardon, I have better Syncrete. First we not happy. You pesserantha, alien."

  Diego nodded. He understood that perfectly. It was the eye crinkle greeting he didn't understand.

  "In Kessent, people not approve our bond-mating." Laysel nudged his partner with his head and Curia licked his cheek. "We talk much. Say Portya will have worse than we because you pesserantha. After much talk, we say we happy. Portya want to ceremony with you, must be you be happy too. You understand ceremony?"

  "Yes." He didn't, precisely. He didn't even know really what was involved. It was enough to know it was as important, as binding, to Portya as the wedding ceremony was to him.

  "If our minessa is happy, we happy."

  Diego mimicked another of Portya's postures. "Portya not happy to hear you call him minessa?" As far as he knew, it meant child. Portya called him that, when he couldn't control his erection through Portya's teasing.

  His question, his posture, earned him two more eye crinkles.

  *~*~*

  "I like your parents," Diego said, when he and Portya managed to find a moment alone. They were in Diego's small quarters, his last night there. Most of his belongings were already at Portya's, but so were his parents.

  "I think yours not like me. How you keep all straight? All split 'male' and 'fe-male' is very confusing."

  Diego laughed. "I think confusing is a matter of what we are used to. I keep wanting to call Curia your mother."

  "Mother," Portya repeated. "I call your 'mother' birth parent, he irritated with me. He scold. So confusing."

  They were sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. Portya had an arm around Diego and Diego was contemplating lying right down in Portya's lap. He eyed Portya's lap. That was where Portya's lovely cock could be found.

  Diego, enchanted by the idea, found that lying in Portya's lap was also very relaxing. Lulled by Portya running his fingers through his hair, Diego fell asleep.

  *~*~*

  The cafeteria had been transformed. Flowers of every colour, all with blue stems and leaves, graced each table. Garlands of greenery—blue-ery?—hung in swags across one wall, marking out the place where the respective Ambassadors would conduct the ceremonies.

  Portya's parents were chatting with Diego's parents, via two enthusiastic volunteer interpreters. Everyone on the station wanted to be a witness to this to event, so finding volunteers for just about anything that needed to be done had been easy, or so Ambassador Karim had advised Diego.

  "I think it's adorable how you can't keep your eyes off each other," his sister said. "But you've only known him six months! Don't you think you're rushing into this? I mean, it's not like he's Rufio from down the block. Or even Rufus from England."

  "Benny, how did you know Matteo was the one for you?" His sister Benica looked a lot like Diego, so much so people thought they might be twins, though he was two years younger than her. In this setting, perhaps, they looked even more like one egg split, an Antho divided into male and female. He shivered, finding the concept uncomfortably strange. A smile twitched across his face as he realized Portya would use the word "weird."

  "I just knew. It was like realizing, oh—so this is what real love is. All those other times I thought I was in love, no." She paused before adding, "I guess by that stupid grin on your face, you've had that realization? I hope?"

  A flush heated Diego's face as he once more gave his sister his full attention. "Sorry. Yeah. It's exactly like that. I just know. Even though we still know less about each other culturally than two strangers on Earth would know about each other. We have a lifetime to learn all that."

  Benica shook her head, smiling a little as she sighed. "Then I wish you both the best. I can't help but think he looks a little…eh. Not what I would have thought was your type."

  "Not what I would have thought, either. And I don't believe in soul mates, and why would my soul mate be a dozen light years away, but if I had to say how it feels? That's how it feels."

  "Crazy, bro. In the best ways."

  Ambassador Nihla signalled him before he could reply. He gave his sister a quick hug and a smile, then went to see what he was needed for.

  In front of the small staging that had been raised under the flower-decorated wall was a large, shallow tub. It was round, and full to about ankle deep with water. "What's that for?"

  "Binding ceremony, did Portya not go over the details with you?"

  He'd started, Diego recalled with sudden blush. They'd gotten distracted. "Not exactly. I'll be fine." As he spoke, two more volunteer Antho set down small stools, about sixty centimeters apart, a small white towel on each one. Another volunteer spread a white tablecloth over a table on the staging area, while yet a fourth deposited other items, including two long, bright blue ribbons.

  "Wait here," Nihla said.

  "Wh—" But Nihla was gone.

  Diego plucked nervously at his clothes. They were in the style Portya often wore, only tailored to fit him, so the exhibitionistic trousers ended just below his weird Human knees. He wore slip-on shoes covered in the same white-on-white patterned fabric as his jacket—which covered his nipples, thank goodness.

  "Captain Bahaghari, you look quite handsome in Antho fashion."

  Diego blinked, surprised, before smiling at Commander Zaya. "Do you always wear a uniform?"

  "I'm here on formal duty," she replied with a smile. "Must say, I didn't see this coming."

  Diego didn't know how to respond to that. The last time they'd spoken, he hadn't been able to see a future past the following day. He returned her smile and ducked his head. "I guess we decided to make a future that fit us both."

  "I've heard it can be done, when you both want it. I've got to confess, I'm curious to know what the water is for." She waved at the bucket now behind him.

  Diego winked, as if he knew, and said, "You'll find out."

  "I'm looking forward to it," she replied with a broad grin.

  She moved on to speak to someone else and Nihla tapped his shoulder. Portya was right behind him, looking as cool and confident as he almost always did. Tall, regal, graceful—

  "Shoes off, stand behind the, what word? Water," Nihla said.

  The Antho ambassador mounted the staging area and tapped the slender podium, casing a soft, bell-like tone to sound. "May I welcome all the friends, family, and supporters come to witness the binding of Portyacurialaysels and Diego Bahaghari. Ordinarily, this ceremony would begin at sunrise, but we are opting to begin now, as the sun rises over Portyacurialaysels's birth city. Please gather and be comfortable."

  Diego felt detached, as if anxiety were a physical thing he left behind in his body, as if his mind were floating just above his body, relaxed and calm. The ceremony was in Antho, and although he'd been t
rying to learn some, Nihla spoke with the sliding sibilance that elided words until he couldn't be sure what he heard. Portya took his hand, as they stood side by side, and whispered, "Ceremony is about together, not one before other. I will guide you."

  Diego nodded, still feeling like part of him was outside his body. But he was alert when Portya squeezed his hand and indicated they were to step into the water. It was, thankfully, warm.

  A quick glance around the room showed him that volunteer Antho were translating the ceremony for all the Human attendees, not just his family. It amused him they probably knew more of what was happening than he did.

  Portya let go his hand, but kept his arm touching Diego's, and when Nihla paused again in speech, Portya nudged Diego's arm up with his, until Diego's right arm and Portya's left were held out in front of them, still touching.

  Nihla picked up one of the blue ribbons and made a show of binding their wrists together, speaking very seriously as he did so.

  "Lee," Portya said, Antho for 'yes' or agreement.

  Nihla looked at Diego expectantly.

  "Lee," he repeated.

  Diego stole a glance up to see Portya give him crinkled eyes as he lowered their tied wrists. Portya took a step forward with his outside leg, offering his other arm and Diego hastened to follow suit.

  He vaguely recalled some wrist-tying ceremony from Earth—Hawaii, maybe? But not one that involved tying both—all four—hands together. Antho are not Human, he reminded himself.

  They now faced each other, the ribbons binding their wrists tied loose enough for movement, not so loose they could fall off. Nihla said something that sounded like instruction and Porta put one arm around Diego's waist, the other behind his back—while at the same time bringing Diego's arm behind his own back and one around Portya's waist, a sort of double S-shaped embrace that drew them together, body to body. Diego leaned into Portya's neck, because he always did, though not usually with one arm behind his back.

  "Now we say words, about our bonds," Portya murmured.

  "Physical and emotional, right?" Diego replied in an equally low voice.