by Cari Z.
Jason turned and headed back into the bedroom. If he couldn’t sleep, at least he could finish packing.
Chapter Two
JASON STOOD in the middle of the living room, slowly moving his gaze from one side of the house to the other. The rooms were all dark and the heat set to the bare minimum needed to keep things from freezing.
The Jacksonville colony had a professional caretaker stationed at the control tower because there weren’t many families who lived here full-time these days, and those who didn’t needed someone to help maintain their properties. He had agreed to add Jason’s house to the list, to check in on it and do basic maintenance, for as long as Jason needed. “And let me know if you ever want to sell,” he’d added at their last meeting. “Your place is on the best lot in this whole colony.” His parents had built their home when Jacksonville was a backwater, but interplanetary shipping routes were changing that. Jason wished his parents were still around to see all the changes that had happened here, and were still happening to him.
The air already smelled different, although a faint scent of popcorn lingered in the kitchen and by the couch. Soon the air would turn stale, the way Jason found it when he came back after long deployments. He didn’t know what scent came after stale in a place that used to be a home. Maybe the abandoned air would take on a sepulchral tinge, or maybe it would start to smell like nothing. Like no one.
Ferran’s fingers wound through his, and a moment later, warm lips pressed a kiss to the back of Jason’s neck. “I hope we can come back.”
Jason nodded once before turning around and walking out of the house. Over, done with, his choice and no time for regrets. He had a new life careening toward him, and he had to meet it head-on.
The ambassador’s Federation ship was a ten-person cruiser, as luxurious as a relatively small ship could be, with as many of the amenities of home as the designers could squeeze into it. It barely fit onto the landing pad inside of Jason’s family compound, but it had a good pilot and a highly efficient crew, and in less than ten minutes, the pile of containers by the door was gone, the house was secured, and Giselle Howards was politely prodding Ferran and Jason to get a move on. “Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” she said as they stepped onto the cruiser. Ambassador Howards seemed to favor bright colors, and today she wore a lavender suit with a short cobalt cape that fell in artful waves over her shoulders.
The ship’s door slid smoothly shut behind them, the green light at its apex lighting up when the seal was secure. Giselle proceeded to growl something at Ferran, forcing her voice into an unnaturally guttural range. Ferran grinned, and a laugh escaped his lips before he replied, the sounds coming much faster from his own throat.
“That’s nice of you to say, but I know my accent is still terrible,” Giselle replied with a smile. “You both probably want to get settled into your suite, but I wanted to take a moment to make introductions and talk a bit.” She gestured toward the conference room behind her, where four chairs were set around a white marble table. Jason and Ferran sat down and looked over at Giselle, who sat across from them and folded her hands seriously.
“I want to make a few things clear from the beginning, to help avoid misunderstandings that we really can’t afford once we reach Perelan. These things are important, so pay attention and ask questions if you have any at all. In the situation we’re heading toward, it’s far better to be overprepared.
“First there’s the issue of language.” She looked squarely at Jason now. “It isn’t terribly difficult for a Perel to reproduce human sounds, and as a result, they’re far better equipped to speak our common language than we are theirs. You’ll be expected to learn a few phrases quickly for the sake of showing willingness, but no one expects perfect fluency in spoken Perel from you. You’d have to do terrible things to your vocal cords to make it possible. Learning to distinguish what Perels are saying, however, is a priority. You need to be aware of your surroundings, and that includes having a fundamental understanding of the language. We’ll equip you with a translation implant to assist you. It isn’t perfect, but the majority of Perels you’ll be interacting with in the beginning will speak our common Federation language.
“Which reminds me.” She pointed one long, perfectly manicured finger at Jason. “Don’t ever assume that anything you say aloud in a public, semipublic, or even should-be-private place is going unheard, because there are going to be people watching every move you make and listening to everything you say. You two should have privacy within the House of Grenn, but I can’t promise anything else.”
“Grenn is my mother,” Ferran interrupted softly, explaining for Jason’s sake. “We have a home in the capitol, Berenze, where most of our family lives.”
“Grenn is a powerhouse on the Council of Matriarchs, and every member of her family, including Ferran—and now you—will always garner plenty of attention. Wanted or not,” Giselle continued. “Which brings me to another point. I have a certain status on Perelan because of my position and my gender. Your status has yet to be determined, but we can increase it right from the start by allying you to me. If I adopt you, then technically, you become a member of my House. And while I’m not on the Council by any means, I am always shown the respect a matriarch is due. This might help protect you against those who would take advantage of the uncertain state of affairs.”
Jason was taken aback. He was used to blunt statements from Giselle, but this was rapid-fire even for her. “You think it’s a good idea to adopt me?”
“I think it will certainly make integration easier for both you and Ferran, and legally it’s quite simple, since you’re not a minor and have no living family. However, I won’t force the decision on you.”
Jason watched as Giselle touched the table and brought up the image of a document. “This is the paperwork. I’d like you to take a closer look at it when you have the chance. All it does is make you my legal heir under Perel law and acknowledge that if things go terribly wrong or a situation arises that looks to become dangerous, I have the right to make certain decisions for you.”
“Such as?”
“Ensuring your sentient rights as a dual citizen of both Perelan and the Federation. Extracting you from a hostile situation, if everything really goes to hell. Emergency medical care. Naturally, I expect you to make Ferran your first point of contact if something goes wrong, but under special circumstances where he might not be available, I want you brought to me. Similarly, if I’m incapacitated for any reason, some of my power will transfer to you.”
“Your staff won’t care for that.”
“My staff has been briefed on the particulars and the peculiarities of this situation. They understand your competence, and you’ll be getting to know them very well before long. I was going to introduce you to them next, but I think—” Giselle rested her chin on one elegant hand and regarded him for a moment. “I think you need some time to process everything. I don’t need an answer about the adoption until we reach Perelan, so don’t feel rushed.
“I’ll have Penelope show you to your suite in a moment, but I wanted to mention this first.” She gestured at the crisp uniform Jason wore. “You’re no longer a ship’s captain, neither militarily nor commercially. Your status revolves around the House of Grenn now, and as a part of that, you need to dress to represent it. In your suite you’ll find clothing tailor-made for you that will help to indicate your status as a high-ranking spouse—things I’ve been assured by the Council of Matriarchs that you have a right to wear—all marked with the insignia of the House of Grenn. If you choose to be adopted by me, my insignia will be added to the opposite shoulder.”
This was definitely coming a little fast. “You have insignia?”
Giselle nodded. “Oh yes. It was one of the first things I had to design when I arrived on Perelan twenty years ago. I was so green then.” She smiled. “Far greener than you. Due to the peculiarities of the culture, Perelan is one of the few diplomatic postings in the Federation that allows an
ambassador to be positioned there for the life of her career as long as she doesn’t egregiously screw things up. I may be there for another twenty years, or forty, or more depending on the state of affairs. Perels live almost as long as a human on Regen, so my relationships, both personal and professional, have to be carefully cultivated. You’ll have more freedom in whom you choose to associate with, but take the long view, Jason. We are speaking about the rest of your life, after all.”
Jason felt a little numb, but given the circumstances, that was probably a good thing. “Is there anything else I need to know right now?”
“One other thing. On Perelan, the husbands of matriarchs are publically referred to as consorts. Unmarried males are sons. There are very few other titles available to male Perels, but at least to begin with, in Perel society you will be introduced as a consort and Ferran will continue as a son. Technically, it could be the other way around if you agree to the adoption, I suppose, but there’s time for quibbling about it later. Consort is a respectable title, but those who develop skills beyond their traditional roles can be given courtesy titles to reflect their expertise. This might happen to you, it might not, but either way, it isn’t something you should feel pressured to achieve.”
“I see,” Jason said, striving to keep the stiffness spreading through his shoulders out of his voice.
“I’m sure you do,” Giselle agreed. “Any burning questions for me right now, or would you like to get things settled in your suite? We’ll be en route for twelve standard days, so you should arrange things to your satisfaction.”
“Nothing from me,” Jason said.
Ferran hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Has my mother mentioned anything about the rhezan?”
“She told me she would wait until speaking to you to make a final decision, but her preference is to do the ceremony, and preferably in a public forum.”
“Oh.” That was not a happy oh to Jason’s ears.
“I’m sure she’ll give you both time to get used to the idea. Now, your suite is at the back of the ship. I know Jason could find it without an escort, but I have to give my chief of staff something to do, or she’ll start making me catch up on my paperwork.” Giselle tapped a button on the table, and a moment later, a fourth person joined them. “This is Penelope Fields.”
Penelope was as androgynous a person as Jason had ever seen. She was perhaps Ferran’s height, dressed in a white suit that managed to diminish any curves while maintaining a nice line, which was hard for even the best tailor to do. Her hair was fine, blonde, and floated like an aura around her head. Her skin was the color of caramel, a warm golden brown, and her face as perfectly expressionless as a doll’s. She extended a hand toward the door.
“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice a dispassionate tenor. “If you’d come with me, please.”
They rose and followed Penelope out of the conference room and down the hall. The floor was a slightly malleable mesh that conformed to their feet, leaving a pattern of footprints behind them. Ferran smiled a little as they walked along it.
“It’s a little like the feeling of home,” he explained when Jason looked over at him. “A soft, giving surface. Our buildings are closely integrated with the natural world, and most of us use mosses, modified for cleanliness and longevity, to cover our floors.”
Mosses. Jason honestly hadn’t given much thought to Perel architecture. He knew their culture was advanced enough to have the capacity for biochemical weapons and genetic modification, but they hadn’t been a spacefaring species before their first contact with an alien race, which had actually been the Dorn, not humans. Jason knew they were nocturnal, and their genetics pointed to a species that had started off as subterranean and had gradually adapted to living aboveground. He knew there was one continent on their planet, and they were the most advanced species living there. He knew most of the Perels lived in the capital city of Berenze, because there were so few of them now, despite the genetic manipulation and breeding programs. Other than that—all of the information that Ferran had shared during the last week they’d spent together—Jason didn’t know anything.
I should have asked more questions. He’d certainly feel better prepared now if he had. But questions hadn’t been the most pressing thing on his mind after he and Ferran had been reunited. It had been more important to make sure the emotional bond was there, was real. Facts could wait—feelings couldn’t. If that meant Jason was veering slightly off-balance now, then he just had to roll with it and do his best to get back on track.
They stopped outside of a broad pair of metallic sliding doors. Penelope tapped a code into the keypad and then gestured toward the scanner. “Press your index finger here.” Jason went first, letting the machine record his fingerprint and DNA. After another few taps, she looked at Ferran, who repeated the process. “It’s now coded to both of you. If you have any problems with the scanner please let me know.” She turned and strode back down the hall, with no sway of slender hips to soften her march.
“She feels very odd,” Ferran said softly. Jason glanced curiously at him. “Her emotions,” he clarified. “They’re unlike any human’s I’ve ever sensed before.”
“Strange.” And something that Ferran clearly wanted to talk about, but Jason figured it could at least wait until they got into their rooms.
He let the scanner read his touch, and the doors slid open, revealing a pleasant space. His boxes were stacked in a neat row along the wall of the sitting area, opposite the entertainment center. A minikitchen was inset in the wall, a palatial bathroom took up a full third of the suite, and the bedroom was such a bright shade of white that it practically glowed. Jason found the color and temperature control on the wall and muted the shade to a more bearable blaze.
Jason opened a wall closet and looked inside. An entire rack of clothing hung there. It looked soft and comfortable, similar to what he wore when he was alone in his house, but cut more finely, a little like an ancient oriental costume. They were darker colors as well: greens, reds, and browns. No Federation blue and black that he’d worn for most of his life and no undyed white cotton like he’d grown up in. The fabric felt like silk and glistened faintly. The collar of each tunic or shirt was embroidered with a thin gold line, and a spiral line, descending to a point like a thorn, was sewn on the right shoulder of each.
“The symbol of the House of Grenn,” Ferran explained. “It represents the taproot of a great tree.”
“It looks a little foreboding,” Jason said.
“It is meant to. Despite our small numbers, my family’s influence runs deep.”
“How much family do you have?”
Ferran sat down on the bed and folded his legs up. “There is only myself and my mother in the immediate family. My brother was the only other pup to survive to adulthood, and you know what happened to him.”
“No sisters?”
“None. Our family has never been very successful at reproduction, despite the best genetic therapy available to us. I do have several female cousins, but they were born to fertile males who were married out of our House, and so belong to their mothers’ Houses. I have numerous uncles and a very large extended family.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Which includes Neyarr and Garrell, of course.”
“Right.”
“Are the clothes all right?” Ferran asked, a little anxiously. “They’re not as close-fitting as what most males on Perelan wear, but you seem to like something less restrictive.”
“Did you know about these?”
“Ambassador Howards asked me several questions about your preferences before you agreed to be my spouse. I didn’t know that she was going to use that information immediately.” Huge amber eyes blinked uncertainly. “Do the clothes upset you?”
“No.” It was true. Jason wasn’t upset by the clothes; he wasn’t really upset at all. He was just… off-balance. Disquieted. Not in control of his environment. It was a state he didn’t relish, but figured he needed to learn to deal with, fa
st. He sat down next to Ferran, who immediately closed the distance so that their sides were touching. “They’re just a new sort of uniform that I need to get used to.”
“When we’re alone, you can wear whatever you want.”
“When will we be alone?” Jason asked, trying to be gentle. “Won’t we be living with your family?”
“We will have our own den within the larger house. It will be like living on the Silver Star again, except with different tasks facing us. It will be all right,” Ferran said, and there was a note of pleading in his voice.
Jason wrapped his arms around Ferran’s waist and pulled him into an embrace. “I believe you.” Belief was his shield now, his iron skin. Belief was crucial. “I believe you.”
Chapter Three
THE NEXT twelve days were a blur of fast-paced education. There were sessions on cultural anthropology, history, anatomy, etiquette, and law—and those were just the ones scheduled daily. Giselle filled every spare minute with special seminars, enlisting Ferran as her assistant and motivational speaker when Jason was so tired he could barely see, much less listen. A nap, or even fifteen minutes to meditate, would have helped, but the time couldn’t be spared.
The cultural and legal lectures were all given by Giselle herself. She was widely regarded as successful in her position, and she could give Jason human insights into a culture that had quite a bit in common with humanity, but which was profoundly alien in other ways. Over several days, she painted a vivid picture of a culture that was functional, complex, and very xenophobic, given how long they had been communicating with aliens before allowing any sort of regular negotiation or trading to take place. It was fortunate for Perelan, Jason reflected, that it had been overlooked by spacefaring aliens for most of its existence, because it didn’t seem to be equipped to handle war on a large scale, at least not at this point in its evolution.
