“Could be much worse,” he agreed. “They obviously don’t trust any of us.”
“They have little reason to trust you,” Kaen pointed out.
“I guess,” Gabe said. “But why don’t they trust you? Their own ambassador?”
“Some are unhappy to be represented by a child,” Kaen said carefully. “You saw that for yourself.”
“Understatement,” Nadia agreed.
“My predecessor was better at pretending that the captains could boss him around,” Kaen went on. “He would listen, show them excessive respect, and then quietly do whatever needed doing—whether or not the captains would approve. But I don’t know how to show respect that I don’t actually have. If I think one of the captains doesn’t understand the situation that they’re trying to control, then my face says ‘You’re an idiot,’ regardless of what I say out loud. That expression gets translated into every single language of the Kaen. The captains have little reason to be fond of me.”
“Poor dears,” Nadia said without sympathy. Then she laughed and sipped her chocolate.
She seems oddly content for someone who just found out that she’s lost forty years, Gabe thought. She isn’t grieving for a lost home. He wondered how he would feel in her place. He wondered how he was supposed to feel now, with house destroyed and family scattered. Right at that moment he felt nothing at all. Then he suddenly felt everything, and had to look away. He read canister labels until the feeling passed him by. Sapote, potato, manioc, jicama, avocado.
Gabe spoke up when he felt nothing again. “Nadia?”
She looked his way. No, she didn’t actually look his way, but she did turn in his direction to show that she heard him. “Yes?”
“Your turn in the spotlight. Why did you leave?”
That question clearly surprised her. “Envoy hasn’t told you? It should have.”
Gabe glanced at the Envoy, who sat on the floor like a lump. Chocolate swished back and forth inside it with a soothing rhythm.
“I think it fell asleep,” Gabe said. “And it hasn’t had time to tell me much. We’ve been busy.”
Nadia downed the thick, spicy sludge at the bottom of her bowl before answering. “Here’s a quick summary, then. You’ve heard of the Machinae?”
Gabe nodded. Then he said, “Yes.” Then he apologized for nodding silently instead of saying yes the first time. “I’ve heard of them, sure, but I don’t know much.”
“No one knows much,” Nadia said. “They don’t communicate with any other species or civilization. They don’t even share our dimension, exactly. But Machinae space overlaps with our own. We call those overlapping places the lanes, and sometimes we can see Machinae moving through them. Now Outlast ships are traveling through Machinae lanes, inside the lanes. That’s how they spread so fast. Galactic conquest shouldn’t even be possible. The worlds are all too far apart. You can’t send armies across thousands of light-years of dark, cold space. You can’t send supplies after them and expect to reach them in time to be useful. You can’t conquer the galaxy. It’s like trying to invade Russia in winter. That didn’t go well for Napoleon, or for Hitler. And galactic history hasn’t smiled on large military campaigns either—not just because they were violent, wasteful, vicious, and wrong, but because they just don’t work. The distance is too great, and too cold. No one can muster up the resources. No one can travel fast enough. But no one told that to the Outlast, and now they’re doing it anyway. They’re conquering worlds and systems at a steady, constant, impossible rate, and this is how. Ambassadors from the Seventh Fiefdom, the Volen Enclaves, and the People of the Domes all witnessed the Outlast emerge from the Machinae lanes.”
“I haven’t heard of any of them,” Gabe admitted.
“Probably not,” Nadia said. “They don’t exist anymore.”
“We saw it too,” Kaen said quietly. “Their warships did come at us from the lanes.”
“So I see two possibilities here,” Nadia went on. “Either the Outlast and the Machinae have some kind of alliance—which isn’t very likely, since the Outlast are absolute crap at talking to anyone—or else the Machinae are ignoring this intrusion, just like they ignore everyone else in the galaxy. The Machinae might not have even noticed Outlast warships cruising by. Either way, someone needs to make contact. If the Machinae have an alliance with the Outlast, then we need to convince them to break it. If they haven’t noticed the Outlast, then we need to convince them to notice. Someone needs to go talk to them.”
“Which nobody has ever done before,” said Gabe.
“No one,” said Kaen. “Ever. And we’re assuming the Machinae are even alive.”
“All true,” said Nadia, somehow unruffled. “And flying into the lanes did not go well the first time I tried it. But I come from a family of scientists. We act on what we know, and always know we might be wrong. I still need to try again, just as soon as Barnacle recovers from the last time. The ship is willing. The pilot is willing and even more eager. Test pilots are the same in any species, I guess. They love to strap themselves into something that might explode, just to do what no one’s ever done before.”
“A family of scientists?” Gabe asked. “So you do have family back home?”
“No,” Nadia said. That word was a key, and she used it to lock all the doors and windows of herself.
Gabe quickly changed the subject back again. “So we need to accomplish various things that no one has ever done. Okay. Sure. How can I help?”
Nadia smiled wide. “You are an ambassador. You can play along. Others are likely to scorn a secret hope. Others would be quick to say ‘No, that’s just stupid.’ But ambassadors can run with unfamiliar games. Ambassadors know how to play.”
Gabe let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. For the very first time since his very first Embassy visit, Gabriel Sandro Fuentes didn’t feel like an outsider. “So what’s the next part of the game plan?”
“We may yet learn how to travel through the lanes,” said Kaen. “If we can do that, we can outrun the Outlast. We can negate their advantage. Maybe we can find a way to slow that advantage or remove it entirely. Other civilizations have studied the lanes—Sapi’s people most of all.”
“Sapi lives on the other side of the galaxy,” Gabe said. “The Outlast frontier hasn’t moved nearly that far.”
“They don’t study Machinae to defend themselves from the Outlast,” said Kaen. “They study the lanes and the Machinae because they’re curious. But her people will also have to worry about the Outlast eventually.”
“Okay,” Gabe said. “So you’re going to talk to Sapi, and I can help by asking around and finding other ambassadors who might know about the lanes.”
“No,” Kaen said. “You can help by coming with me and keeping quiet. Meet me at the lakeshore. Don’t speak to anyone else before you find me there.”
Gabe understood. He felt like an outsider again.
“The captains think I might do something stupid and dangerous,” he said. “They told you to watch me in the Chancery.”
“Yes,” said Kaen.
Silence. Nadia broke it with a yawn. “I’m not sure what sort of sleep cycle you’ve got yourselves on, but it’s bedtime for me.”
“I’m a little bit exhausted,” Gabe admitted.
“I’m not,” said Kaen, “but this is a good time for an Embassy visit.”
“Then off to the dorm rooms we go.” Nadia stood. “I’ll lead the way. I need the practice.”
Gabe woke up the Envoy, who scootched groggily alongside. They all followed Nadia as she made clicking noises to navigate windowless hallways and passages.
She brought them to a small room with polished metal furniture and narrow sleeping nooks set into the walls—efficient storage shelves for sleeping people. The Envoy ignored the nooks, rolled into a corner, and stayed there. Chocolate sloshed sleepily inside it. Kaen chose a nook near the ceiling and climbed in.
“This is your room too?” Gabe asked.
&n
bsp; “It is now,” she said. “Doesn’t matter. They’re mostly alike. And as current ambassadors—plus one former ambassador—we don’t have to share rooms with any other academy students. Meet me at the Chancery lakeshore. Don’t talk to anyone else.”
“I heard you the first time.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but resentment still crept in.
Kaen didn’t answer. She already slept.
“That was quick,” Gabe said quietly.
Nadia sat in one of the metal chairs and took off her shoes. “You’ll learn how to slip speedily into a sleep or a trance,” she assured him. “Some ambassadors can even visit the Embassy while still awake and going about their business. They must seem distracted and daydreamy, though, splitting their focus between two places at once. I never learned that trick. But the trance is easier. Most of it is just breathing slowly. I’d teach you the basics now, but I’m too tired. The tree in the academy is much better at it. Learn from him. I go there sometimes to practice and help tutor the tiny ambassador hopefuls.”
“Okay,” Gabe said. “I’ll ask Kaen tomorrow about trances and trees.” He fished around in his well-stocked emergency backpack for a toothbrush. “Is there a bathroom around here?”
“Down the hall on the left,” she said. “Don’t use water for washing up. There’s a basin of disinfectant sand. Rub your hands with that. Be warned: Lots of species use that room, and none have very strong notions of privacy.”
He expected Nadia to have claimed her own nook by the time he got back, but he found her still sitting in the chair.
“How’s Earth?” she asked.
“Still there,” he said. “Warmer since you left.”
“What part are you from? United States? You sound like it, but translation does weird things to accents.”
“United States,” he confirmed. “Right smack in the middle of the continent.”
“Well, I’m glad we haven’t nuked each other. I don’t suppose your country built any lunar cities while I was gone.”
Gabe shook his head, and then remembered to say, “No,” out loud.
“So NASA just walked around, took some souvenir rocks, snapped a few tourist pictures, and never went back?”
“Basically, yes,” said Gabe. “I’m not happy about that either.”
“At least you didn’t nuke the moon,” Nadia said.
“What?!”
Kaen rolled over, but she kept on snoring.
Gabe lowered his voice. “Why would we ever do that?”
“Just to prove that you could,” Nadia said. “It was a pissing contest. The U.S. didn’t know how to respond after we reached orbit first. You had to do something, and you decided to go walking on the moon. Good choice. I loved walking on the moon. But you almost detonated a nuclear warhead on the lunar surface instead, just to intimidate us with the sight.”
“Are you sure?” Gabe asked. “How do you know?”
“It was an open secret,” Nadia told him. “Or at least it was around my dinner table. Classified-but-not-really.” She yawned again. “You should get to sleep. Kaen will be waiting. Say hello to Protocol for me when you get there. I miss him. Even though he’s such a stuffy stickler for rules and procedures.”
“I will,” Gabe promised. He climbed into one of the lower nooks and tried to sleep, exhausted but also aware that he lay inside a pyramid, in Night and under Day, on a flying saucer, hiding in an asteroid, 266 million miles from Earth.
“Breathe slow,” Nadia told him from across the room. She remained in her chair. In that moment she looked like she really might be half a century old.
9
“Greetings, Ambassador Gabriel Sandro Fuentes.”
The voice came from every direction inside the welcoming chamber. Gabe watched his entangled sense of self take shape in the mirrored door.
“Greetings, Protocol.”
“I trust that your earlier conflicts have been adequately resolved.” It wasn’t a question, but it was something very close. Protocol tried not to express curiosity. He was the place itself. He made communication possible, and considered it improper to pry or otherwise intrude into the actual content of galactic communication. But Protocol did sometimes strain against the strict parameters of his role.
“Adequately,” Gabe agreed. “My very first treaty still holds, and no one is actively trying to kill me.”
“Few forms of life can ever say the same,” Protocol told him. “I hope that you savor your relative safety.”
“I’ll do my best,” Gabe said. “And thank you for your help.”
“You are most welcome, Ambassador. But please inform your Envoy that it should invest more time preparing its charges prior to their entanglement.”
Gabe saw himself frown in the mirror, and tried to smooth it out into a neutral expression.
“I will,” he lied politely.
“Proceed, Ambassador.”
The door slid open. Gabe proceeded.
The Chancery stretched out in front of him. He set off for the lake, but he soon got distracted by a new game. It looked like some massive version of tag. Dozens of ambassadors chased dozens more across the open hills. Their clothes turned white whenever they got tagged.
One of the kids in white paused when he noticed Gabe watching. “Want to play?”
“What’s the game?” Gabe asked.
“Outlast.”
“How do you play?” Gabe asked warily.
“You run,” the other ambassador told him. “If they catch you, you die. Then you have to play for the other side. The game ends when everyone loses. When only the Outlast are left. It always happens eventually.”
Gabe watched some of the players get caught. They died with drama, loud and flailing. Then their clothes turned white, and the Outlast spread.
It looked like fun.
Omegan of the Outlast stood on a distant hilltop and watched, just as he always did.
“No thanks,” Gabe said.
The other ambassador dashed off to rejoin the game.
Gabe found Kaen waiting on the lakeshore, impatient and annoyed.
“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t fall asleep.”
“I asked you not to talk to anyone else here,” she said.
Gabe wasn’t sorry about that part. “Someone came and talked to me. I couldn’t ignore them.”
“Why not?” Kaen asked. “You can always pretend that you don’t understand.”
“We’re standing in the middle of a massive and universal translation matrix,” Gabe said. “How can I possibly pretend that I don’t understand?”
Kaen shook her head. “No translation is completely universal. Just remember that I’m responsible for you.”
“Sorry,” Gabe said again. He tried to be sincere about it. He did try. “So where can we find Sapi?”
Kaen pointed at the lake. “Down there. At the very bottom.”
Gabe considered the thick and viscous lake water. “Really? She strikes me as a more arboreal type.”
“Really.” Kaen walked down the sand bank and into the surf.
Gabe went with her. The water felt cool, but not cold. “How can we breathe down there?”
“Easily,” said Kaen. “You really do need academy lessons. Your actual lungs are almost thirty thousand light-years away from here.”
“I’m aware,” Gabe said.
“So just dive down. Your projected self will acclimate to the new environment. This place would be less useful if we only ever spoke to ambassadors who happened to thrive in the same sorts of habitats. Here we can breathe underwater.”
Gabe glanced at their soaring colleagues overhead. “Does that mean we can fly, too?”
“Of course,” said Kaen. “Haven’t you tried?”
“No. We’ve been busy.”
“You should. But right now we need to swim.”
She dove under the surface without bothering to take a breath first.
Gabe hesitated. The lake was deep, dark, and full of aliens.<
br />
He dove down.
* * * *
Breathing underwater is difficult when your body insists that it shouldn’t be able to. Gabe hovered just under the surface, closed his eyes, and argued with his lungs.
We should panic, the lungs told him.
We’ll be fine, he answered, and tried hard to believe it.
Start kicking back to the surface, they said.
You aren’t even here, he reminded them. You’re very far away, along with the rest of me.
We’re sinking! his lungs shouted. I really do think we should consider freaking out about this.
Shhhhhhhhhh, he said. Calm down.
Both lungs continued to protest right up until the moment they relaxed into their usual rhythm.
Huh, they said. That worked out fine.
Gabe swam after Kaen.
She led them to a long stretch of sand at the very bottom.
Three other ambassadors stood there and yelled at each other. Sapi was one of them. She saw Kaen and Gabe, gave a joyful shout, and swam to catch them both in an awkward underwater group hug.
“I’m soooooooo glad to see you,” she said in a muffled and watery voice. “I was worried. And I can’t stand to be part of these talks anymore. Nope. Can’t stand it. I need to tap out. Right now I don’t care if they eat each other, and that makes me something less than neutral.” She looked at Gabe and then smiled slowly. “Have you ever met those two down there?”
“No . . . ,” Gabe said warily. “But I’m not really sure. They keep changing shape.”
“They do that. One of them is Aza of the Ven. The other is Aza of the Gnole.”
“They have the same name?” Gabe asked.
“Yes,” Sapi said. “It’s one of the many things they fight over. Do you have a vested interest in any possible outcome of their dispute?”
“Not as far as I know,” Gabe said. “But what—”
“Do you even know what their dispute is?”
“Nope,” Gabe said.
“Perfect!” Sapi looked gleeful. “Take my place. Mediate. Try to keep them calm. They shift when they get angry. I’m so very tired of hearing them bicker, and I need to go talk to Kaen anyway.”
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