by Diane Duane
“Mr. Tanzer and Dr. McCoy are working on it, Commander,” the rock said to her, its fringe rippling on one side of it. “May I take you to them?”
There was a cheerful eagerness in the voice that Ael almost smiled at; this was a very young officer, if she was any judge. She thought fondly of Tafv when he was that young, and of Aidoann a few years ago, before battle and friendship had shaken some of the rawness out of her. “Yes, Ensign, thank you.”
The rock rumbled off through the big room, and Ael went after him at a leisurely pace, looking around her as she went. A swimming bath, for pity’s sake! and banqueting tables surrounded by people eating what would have been a feast by Rihannsu standards, but what Ael suspected was probably just ordinary fare. They have so much, she thought. No wonder they understand us so little, who are so poor. Perhaps they don’t even understand the anger that the hungry feel when the full go by, unthinking…. But the anger, the thought of her poor cramped crew who deserved so much better, was shaken out of her somewhat by the sight of her crewpeople themselves. They were standing and sitting, most of them, off in one corner of the great room, looking quite brave and aloof and self-sufficient, and (to Ael’s trained eye) rather lost and scared. Dr. McCoy was making his way busily among them, talking to them as kindly as her own ship’s surgeon might, as he installed intradermal translators in their forearms. Indeed, Surgeon t’Hrienteh was at McCoy’s elbow, carefully watching what he did; and there was an unaccustomed smile on her grim dark face as McCoy patted the forearm of poor nervous tr’Jaihen, spoke some reassuring (though not yet understood) word to him, and slipped the implant in.
“Doctor,” Ael said, and to her amusement both McCoy and t’Hrienteh turned to see who called them.
“Oh, there you are, Commander,” McCoy said, giving her the casual look someone back on the farm might have given a strayed fvai that had finally come back to the stable. “I see Ensign Naraht found you.”
“Indeed he did,” said Ael, tipping a quick smile down at the youngster. “Are the arrangements about complete, Doctor? My people and I have a lot of work to do.”
“Almost done, Commander. Just a few more translators to go in.” McCoy looked around at the corner of the room. “The recreation chief has gone off to see about partitioning this area off for your people’s sleeping quarters. We didn’t have enough room to put them in crew quarters, unfortunately; we’re just about full up with our own people right now.”
“Doctor, this will suit us very well,” Ael said. “We are used to barracks living, all of us, and there’s much more room here than even back on Bloodwing. Is there a visitor’s mess?”
“Not as such, but Mr. Tanzer’s reprogrammed the food processors in the lounge adjacent to this area. I’ve already told most of your people, but now I should tell you; when you use the processor, stay away from anything with a red tag on it—those are the foods that won’t agree with your metabolism. Last thing you people need to worry about right now would be coming down with the Titanian two-step.”
“Pardon?”
“LIhrei’sian,” said t’Hrienteh.
“Oh. Thank you, Doctor, you’re quite right….”
“Len?” someone said from behind her. Ael turned to find herself looking at a short, well-muscled, silver-haired man with such calm wise eyes that her first thought was senior centurion. But of course that couldn’t be the case; the Captain had not even introduced him at the department heads’ meeting, though the man had been there. He looked at her in return, weighed her, and accepted her utterly, all in one swift glance; then said, “I beg your pardon, Commander.”
“Please don’t,” she said, though his courtesy pleased her as much as his assessment had unnerved her.
“This is Lieutenant Harb Tanzer, Commander,” said McCoy. “He’ll be handling your people’s needs, since he’s in charge of this whole area. If they need anything at all while they’re here—anything nonmedical, that is—they should see him.”
“I’ll be on call at all times, Commander,” said Mr. Tanzer. “We should have enough time before the other Rihannsu ships arrive for your crew to get at least one shift’s worth of sleep. When they’re ready, call me and I’ll block this whole area off for them. I’m sorry we don’t have solid walls; we normally use opaque force-fields with a high-positive soundblock.”
“Those sound fine,” Ael said, wondering what in the worlds the man was talking about. “If there’s a problem, we’ll let you know.”
“Meantime, once they’ve handled what they have to do aboard ship, they’re most welcome to our facilities,” Mr. Tanzer said. “In fact, Commander, if I may say so, a lot of the people in here are rather hoping your crew will join them. They’re incredibly curious. None of us have ever had the chance to talk to a Rihannsu before.”
Ael noticed, to her considerable surprise, that the translator was not merely rendering it from the Basic word “Romulan”; the man was actually saying “Rihannsu”—and with a tolerable accent. “If they wish to,” she said, looking more carefully at Mr. Tanzer than she had at first, “they certainly may, and thank you kindly. Will you excuse me? I need to talk to them.”
“Certainly.”
The doctor and the recreation officer and the rock all went off together, leaving Ael with her little group. With their usual cool discipline they all sank down together, sitting cross-legged on the strange, soft floor as they would have after workout in Bloodwing’s little gym.
“What of it, my own?” she said. “Are you well, or will you shortly be that way? And can you hold to your oaths in this place, under the eyes of strangers and under these circumstances? For surely none of us have ever been this sorely tested, or will be. Anyone who thinks that he or she might be tempted to do our old enemies evil in an unguarded moment, say it now. I will not hold it against you. You will go back to Bloodwing in honor for a bitter truth told, and courage in telling it.”
They all looked at her soberly, her faithful group—the many familiar faces that had followed her into battle so many times before. Fair little N’alae with her placid eyes and deadly hands, silent Khoal, great lanky Dhiemn with his farm-child’s hands and his sword-sharp mind; Rhioa and Ireqh and Dhiov and Ejiul and T’maekh, and many another—they all watched her, quite silent, and no one moved. “Be certain,” Ael said softly. “This is to our everlasting shame and my own dishonor should we fail. Poor tattered rag that my honor will be, once Command finds out what we’re up to—yet I would not tear it any worse.”
Dhiov, who was always timid except when it came to slighting herself, or killing, said abruptly, “Those things with the tentacles—”
“Are people,” Ael said. “Never doubt it. They look horrible to me too, but I make no doubt that their gorge rises somewhat at us.” There was soft laughter over that. “They have their own version of the Passion, too; they will defend their ship and their shipmates as brilliantly and as bravely as you will. The same for the blue people and the orange ones and the brown ones and the ones who look like hlai.”
“And the rock?” said Dhiemn, with his usual dry humor.
“Especially the rock, I think. Elements, my children, what a start that one gave me. May I be preserved from seeing any more of that kind of thing; if Air or Fire should walk up and speak to me, I doubt I could bear it.”
More laughter. They were relaxing, and Ael was glad to see it. “So, we’re merry. Have you learned your duties well enough to be sure of them?”
Various heads bowed “yes.” “It’s not hard, khre’Riov,” said Ejiul. “Most of the positions we’re being taught involve only communications. Any consoles we need to read have been reprogrammed for Rihannsu, and the instructions usually coach you along.”
“Be certain, now. There will be no room for mistakes once Javelin and Rea’s Helm and Battlequeen get here.”
There was a sound of indrawn breath. Ael looked over at little dark Nniol, who was suddenly staring at the carpet. “O Air and Earth, khre’Riov,” he said. “My sist
er was serving on Javelin last I heard.”
Ael looked at him. “Nniol, that’s hard. Will your oath hold?”
He looked up, stricken. “Khre’Riov—I don’t know.”
“Who must we ask to find out?” she said, very softly.
He stared at the carpet again. “We were close,” he said. And after a long pause, he said, “I think I had best go back.”
She looked at him, then nodded swiftly. “There’s mnhei’sahe indeed—painful, but pure. Stay with us for the moment, Nniol: I’ll speak to the captain. Anyone else?”
No one spoke.
“Very well. Shall we work out? We haven’t had time to stretch as yet today, and we’ll need to be limber tomorrow.” Ael grinned at them. “Let’s show them how it’s done, shall we?”
There were answering grins all around, even from Nniol. They rose again, all together, and after reverence done toward ch’Rihan, in the Elements’ direction (“That way,” Dhiemn said, pointing at the floor; he always knew), Ael led them through the preliminary stretches and focusing. By the time they had gotten through the first few throws and choke-breaks and had broken into small freestyle groups to work out, some of the Enterprise people had drifted over, very casually, to watch them. Ael stepped away from her people as a cheerful free-for-all was starting among them—N’alae and Khoal dominating it as usual, everyone leaping at them and being thrown halfway to the horizon for their pains.
Ael wiped her brow and looked, under cover of the motion, at the Enterprise people. They were maintaining very carefully their pose of casualness; but Ael saw plainly enough that some of them wanted to dive into that fight too and try their luck. At least some of the hominids did; there was no telling what that tall purple-tentacled thing with all the writhing eyes might be thinking about—or, for that matter, young Ensign Rock, who was standing next to it. None of the hominids, at least, looked hostile. They looked hopeful, like children waiting to be asked to play…though their faces pretended mild interest and their conversation was calm.
She felt eyes on her, looked up. Enterprise’s captain was coming toward her, along with Lieutenant Tanzer. The captain was in fact looking slightly past her, at the free-for-all, and if she was any good at reading Terrans, Ael thought she caught a kind of itchy expression on his face that indicated he, too, would like to get in on it. But there was regret there, too. Poor man, Ael thought, he doesn’t have the leisure either….
“Commander,” said the captain, and paused beside her, watching the madness going on in the corner, as little N’alae picked up Dhiemn bodily and tossed him at Lhair and Ameh. They caught him, barely.
“Captain,” she said. “Just a workout; ‘llaekh-ae’rl,’ we call it.”
“‘Laughing murder’? Very apt…My people tell me that yours have been picking up the parts they’ll play very fast indeed.”
“I have no time for slow learners, Captain,” Ael said. “And to tell you truth, few of them survive long on Neutral Zone patrol, or on our frontier with the Klingons. —I’m glad you came now; for I have a problem. My crewman Nniol t’AAnikh has kin on one of the incoming ships, Javelin. I cannot allow him to be at or near a combat station when we engage that ship. I am sending him back to Bloodwing.”
He looked at her narrowly. “Certainly, Commander. Is it a matter of trust?”
Ael restrained herself from frowning at him, though it annoyed her that he should instantly think the worst of one of her people. “Yes, it is,” she said. “He trusts me enough to tell me that he does not know whether he can trust himself in such a situation. It is my responsibility to guard his honor, just as by speaking he guards mine.”
Perhaps the captain got a sense of how nettled she felt, for his face changed quickly. “Of course, Commander. Do as you think best. When he’s ready to go back, just send him down to the transporter room; I’ll see to it that they expect him.”
“Thank you. Oh, now, see that….” She had glanced away from the captain at a sudden lull in the scrapping behind her. There were several of the Enterprise crewpeople among her own—a couple of hominids, one blue-skinned and one fair like the captain—and one of the strange violet-tentacled things with all the eyes. The fairer of the two hominids, a small slim man, was making gestures that approximated N’alae’s last throw, evidently asking her something about it; and Ael smiled as N’alae reached out to the man with that demure little expression of hers. The crewman set himself as well as he could to prevent her, Ael gave him credit for that; but all his preparation did the poor fellow no good. He went flying, came down hard and slapped the floor—then bounced up again, none the worse for wear but looking downright delighted.
“Can you all do that?” the captain said from beside Ael, watching the business with the same rueful delight as his crewman.
“No,” Ael said, not without some rue on her own side. Many a time poor N’alae had tried to teach her some of the finest points of llaekh-ae’rl, the delicate shifts of balance that required a mind that could root itself in earth, or the metal of deckplates. But Ael had too much fire and air in her, and could not root. She had become resigned to defending herself with a phaser, or her mind. “N’alae is our specialist in the art.”
“Uh-oh,” said the captain, a sound that Ael’s translator refused to render. Nevertheless, she understood it, for the tall purple sheaf of tentacles glided over to N’alae and was saying something to her, gesturing with liquid grace and many arms.
“That’s a Sulamid,” the Captain said. “Mr. Athendë from maintenance. Hand-to-hand combat is one of his hobbies….”
That joke Ael understood, and she laughed hard for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation immensely. How long had it been since she laughed for pure merriment, not out of bitterness? She saw various heads turn among her crew; evidently it was a sound they were glad to hear, too, and some of the stiffness and formality seemed to fall away from them on hearing it. N’alae laughed also—that dangerous sound Ael knew very well—and held out her arms to the Sulamid, which obligingly wrapped numerous of its tentacles around them like thick-vine running up a tree’s branches. There was a moment of swaying and straining, long seconds when nothing seemed to happen; and then with startling suddenness N’alae was standing all by herself again, and Mr. Athendë was sailing through the air, eyes and tentacles waving and whipping around. He hit the deck without a sound—evidently the tentacles made good shock absorbers—and bounced up again.
All Ael’s people were cheering N’alae, who looked flushed and surprised. But, surprisingly, the Enterprise people standing around—and there were quite a lot of them now—were cheering her too; and Athendë swayed and bent double in a deep bow to her, saying something Ael couldn’t quite catch, but something that made N’alae laugh.
Ael glanced sideways and saw the Captain’s look, thoughtful and impressed. “We could learn a lot from her,” he said. “None of us have ever been able to pull that on Athendë—not even Mr. Spock. After we finish our business at Levaeri, would you consider lending that lady to us for a little while?…”
“I am not sure we would want to give up the advantage,” Ael said soberly. “I shall ask her, however.”
The two of them turned away from the rapidly growing group in the corner, strolling away across recreation. “Your people have been very kind to ours since we came here, Captain,” she said.
The captain raised his shoulders and let them fall again in a careless gesture. “Simple interspecies amity,” he said. “The spirit of brotherhood.”
The translator made little sense of the last word; but Ael understood why—it having been one of many oddities she had noticed long ago when working on her own translator program. “There is a question you might answer for me,” she said. “Why does the word imply male siblings and not female as well?”
“It’s an old word,” said the captain, looking slightly embarrassed. “‘Kinship’ would be closer to the meaning.”
“But a word’s true meaning, its intended meaning, is a
lways implicit in its structure,” Ael said. “Evidently there were those who thought, when your language was forged, that only men were capable of that brand of kinship—and that by implication it was impossible between two women, or between female and male. How did they justify that in the face of evidence otherwise? Or did they simply wish half your species to think that it could not set back to back and fight for life and the things that mattered?”
He said nothing, and there was something about his silence that troubled Ael, so that she pressed her advantage to see what lay under the silence. “What about it, Captain? How is it that only brothers may fight, be valiant, persevere, defy deaths great and small—while judging half your race outside of that burden, that privilege, from the beginning?”
“I have no answer for you,” the captain said, all tact, refusing to be drawn.
“Indeed. One wonders why the other half of your species put up with yours for so long.”
“Perhaps they got their revenge,” the captain said, “by letting my half of the species think it was right about them—and letting it go to Hell as a result.”
Ael’s eyebrow went up in surprised and pleased acknowledgment of the captain’s shot across her bows. He looked oddly at her, as if even through his anger seeing something familiar in her, though Ael had no idea what and at the moment didn’t care. “Besides,” the captain said, “there’s one characteristic of being a brother that you didn’t mention. Liking. Brothers have that for one another, generally. I’m not sure I could have that much of that kind of liking for a woman.”
Ael briefly considered the steady, sure relationship she had sensed between the captain and Uhura—the flashes of humor, the utter trust—and realized with wry amusement that she was being insulted. Why, she wasn’t yet sure; so for the moment she put the matter aside and merely considered the captain’s premise. “Liking. Well. Brothers may certainly develop it. It may make living with one another easier. But it’s hardly necessary to brotherhood proper. Say my brother and I quarrel: then he falls in danger of his life. Do I let him lie there, because I no longer ‘like’ him? Or do I save him—simply because he is my brother, because I have said that he is forever someone important to me—and I’m bound by what I have said?”
