While we were speaking, a man had come out of the white mansion. As he came down the broad stone steps I felt a lurch of recognition. It was Hans Seidel. His keen blue eyes and sharply cut features were instantly recognizable from the news broadcasts I’d been watching, as was his air of cool authority. Despite living in California for a year, I’d never met any celebrities in person, and as he approached I was filled with an edgy exhilaration. But I knew its source wasn’t his importance; rather, it was the confirmation that things were coming together as I so desperately needed them to.
He extended his hand, and I shook it. “Avery Alcott,” he said warmly. “Welcome to the Villiger Center. I hope your journey was comfortable.”
“It was more than comfortable. Thank you. I’ll never look at coach the same way again. When do I start?”
He smiled. “I appreciate your enthusiasm. Your training will begin in earnest tomorrow. For today, you’ll be completing the necessary formalities, processing paperwork and so on. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, local time. Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I said. “I could certainly use some coffee.”
“Excellent. If you’ll follow me.” And he led me back up the steps and into the ornate white building. Despite my best efforts to draft a mental map of the place, I became lost almost instantly in an elegant labyrinth of high-ceilinged rooms and corridors. Sunlight streamed in everywhere, through floor-to-ceiling windows and skylights, and the design was minimalist, white with touches of steel and pale wood. People moved purposefully around us, some in civilian wear, others in the blue and gold uniforms of the Unified Earth Council security forces. Almost everyone we passed was talking, either to a companion or into a phone or a minimal Bluetooth headset. The place fairly hummed with controlled urgency. No one gave me a second glance. Seidel held the door for me as we stepped out onto a wide shaded balcony overlooking the vineyards I’d seen on the drive in. It appeared to be an open-air café, with teak furniture and a coffee kiosk to one side. We ordered coffee and sandwiches from the briskly friendly young woman at the kiosk, and the councillor led me to a table.
“Is Dr. Sawyer here?” I asked as we sat down.
“I’m afraid not.”
I looked at him in surprise. “But I thought he left before I did.”
“Dr. Sawyer,” Seidel said slowly, “is currently in custody pending questioning by Council security forces. His decision to keep the TrueFluent program hidden for more than a year after its completion has given rise to some questions. For the first time in our history Earth is poised to enter into an alliance with a foreign world. We need Sawyer’s expertise, but first we need to be assured that his loyalties lie with us. There is a concern that he may have been covertly training Vardeshi spies—or that he himself may be an agent for the Vardeshi.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“Is it? He trained you.” I must have looked alarmed, because Seidel went on, “I’m not trying to frighten you. The interrogation is a necessary step. A formality. Dr. Sawyer has been extremely cooperative. And there are a number of things working in his favor. He came forward as soon as the Vardeshi message was released to the media. And he only trained one student, which suggests that he really was trying to troubleshoot the program. Naturally, the Council would have preferred that he leave the choice of protégé up to us. But so far we haven’t seen anything about you that we don’t like.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“Not now. But he should be released within a few days.”
I nodded, marginally reassured.
Seidel said, “If you’re ready to move on, I have a few questions for you. Avery, exactly how good is your Vardeshi? I know you’re a student of linguistics. I need an honest assessment. Remember that however much you know, it’s more than anyone else knows.”
This, at last, I had been expecting. “It’s proficient,” I said. “I wouldn’t say fluent. There are too many words missing from Dr. Sawyer’s lexicon. I’m literate. I can converse about daily life—easily, I think, although obviously I can’t be sure.”
“Most people with your level of skill would claim fluency,” he observed.
“Most people aren’t linguists.”
“Are you competent enough to live among the Vardeshi? Aboard a spacecraft, say?”
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation.
“What if there were no other humans aboard?”
“That would be fine.”
“What if the Vardeshi spoke no English?”
“Still fine.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I’m ready,” I said simply. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. Send me out.”
“Oh, I will,” he said matter-of-factly. “There’s no question of that. You’re going into the field as soon as possible. I’m simply trying to determine your placement. When the Vardeshi invited us to come live among them, what they really meant was to live aboard their spacecraft and space stations.”
“Starhavens,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s the word they’ve been using with us as well. It’s a good sign that Dr. Sawyer’s translation matches with theirs. Vardesh Prime itself is six months from Earth at the top speed of which their vessels are capable, which of course far outstrips our own. They’ve asked for a single representative to visit their homeworld in reciprocity for their visit to Earth. The timeline of the exchange requires that that person depart within the next month. It’s a long trip—six months out, a few days or perhaps weeks on their planet, and then six months back. I won’t sugarcoat it for you. The mission will be lonely, difficult, and dangerous. Whoever we select will be the first human to leave Earth and the last one to return. He—or she—will be entering a world of which we know virtually nothing. The stakes are incredibly high, and the risks are tremendous. Problems could arise that we have no way of foreseeing—not just cultural issues, but problems with the artificial environment aboard their ships, or adverse reactions to Vardeshi food, drink, cleaning agents, and so on. And all this speculation presumes that the Vardeshi have been entirely candid with us about their purpose in reopening the dialogue between our planets. It’s possible that they proposed the program as a pretext to acquire specimens for scientific research. We don’t know. And we won’t know until after whomever we send to Vardesh Prime has already departed. Whoever takes on this role will need to be fully cognizant of the dangers it entails. Once a Vardeshi ship passes beyond the limits of our solar system, any human aboard that ship will be completely at the mercy of his hosts. Earth will be powerless to help him.”
I had scarcely registered anything after his first sentence. “You want to send me to Vardesh Prime?”
“I want you to know that you’re being considered. There’s some concern among the other members of the Council that you’re too young and inexperienced for the role. You have no military background, no training for a solitary mission of this duration. It’s unheard of to send a civilian into these conditions without extensive psychological preparation—far more than we can do in a month. At the moment, the prevailing view in the Council is that we should send a veteran soldier. We’re looking at a number of possibilities.”
“I thought I was the only one on the List.”
“You’re the only person guaranteed a place in the overall program. But that doesn’t mean we’ll send you to Vardesh Prime. There are thousands of people in the running for the other ninety-nine slots, and twenty or so are short-listed for this placement. People trained to maintain their physical and mental fortitude under extreme stress, to resist interrogation techniques, to work alone among enemies for extended periods of time.”
“But the Vardeshi aren’t our enemies! And none of those people can talk to them. I can.”
He nodded. “I know. I need you to prove that to the Council.”
“Put me in a room with them and I will.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said. “Tomorrow.�
��
“Tomorrow?” I echoed in astonishment. “They’re here? Already?”
“The majority of their ships will be arriving over the next month or so. But a few have already arrived, including the one designated to transport our delegate to Vardesh Prime. It’s in orbit as we speak, scheduled to touch down on our airfield tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow,” I whispered.
“Too soon?”
I looked up. His eyes were piercing. I knew—as I’d known from the moment I met him—that every question from him, every glance, however seemingly casual, was an assessment. I shook my head. “I wish it were today.”
After we finished our meal, he graciously passed me off to Stefan, who walked me across the green to a row of half-timbered cottages. These, he explained, were single-sex dormitories where the hundred representatives of Earth would be quartered for the duration of their training. Most would have roommates, but a single room had been set aside for me out of respect for my importance to the program.
“Who else is being considered for the exchange?” I asked as we walked. “Ninety-nine other linguists?”
“It’s quite a mix,” Stefan said. “The Vardeshi asked for a little bit of everything, so that’s what we’re giving them. You’ll recognize some of the names. Poets, photographers, dancers, singers. Scientists of all kinds. And yes, there are quite a few linguists. Most people have more than one area of expertise.”
“I don’t,” I said, instantly wary.
He smiled. “That’s all right. Your specialization is very special.”
We had arrived at the first cottage in the row. Stefan unlocked the door and we went in. I followed him up a narrow stairway to an immaculate second-floor bedroom, glancing curiously into the empty rooms we passed on the way. They were all identical. Mine was the smallest, which seemed fair, since I wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone. My luggage had arrived before me. “I’ll wait downstairs while you shower and change into athletic clothes,” Stefan said. “The bathroom is down the hall. Please use the toiletries provided. They’re unscented. The Vardeshi have asked us not to use any perfumed soaps or perfumes. Apparently they found the fragrances of Earth a little overpowering on their last visit. From here, you’ll proceed to our office wing for paperwork, then to the testing complex.”
“What kind of testing?”
“It’s designed to evaluate your fit for the program,” Stefan said. “That’s all I’m permitted to tell you.”
I showered and put on running clothes and a sweatshirt. I sat on the bed to lace up my sneakers. It had been made up for me, and I would gladly have climbed between its cool white sheets and gone to sleep, but no one had said anything about a nap. I ran a hand longingly over the bright patchwork quilt before pushing myself to my feet. Stefan was waiting downstairs as promised, scrolling through updates on his phone. He took me back to the main conference building. I spent the remainder of the morning being shepherded through an endless sequence of offices. It had never occurred to me that becoming an official representative of Earth would involve so much paperwork. Had all these forms been generated within the past few days? I hadn’t known bureaucracy could operate so quickly.
At one point I waited in an anteroom with a couch and a flatscreen TV while the next person on my schedule concluded a meeting. The TV was on and tuned to a news channel. The newscaster was speaking Swiss German, but the English subtitles revealed her to be reporting the latest exchange details released by the Council. “. . . Fifty men and fifty women,” she was saying. “For reasons of maturity and health, no one will be chosen who is younger than twenty years of age or older than fifty. No married couples, no relatives, no pregnant women. No known history of violence, mental illness, bigotry, or racism. No significant physical or mental disabilities. No citizen of a nation that does not send a delegate to the Unified Earth Council. No one without a college degree. No one who does not speak English or Mandarin, as those are the only Earth languages the Vardeshi currently speak.” She paused, head tilted slightly, presumably listening to her earpiece. “I’m told the first potential representatives are already being transported to a training facility in an undisclosed location. For security reasons, the final list won’t be published until after the representatives have left Earth, but here are a few reasonable predictions.” A list of names followed. Mine, unsurprisingly, wasn’t among them.
After I had signed away every possible legal privilege, verified my identity a dozen different ways, and confirmed my moral integrity and the absence of any malicious intent toward the peoples of both Earth and Vardesh Prime, I was permitted to eat lunch. Stefan showed me to a cavernous dining hall, where I wandered along a gleaming counter past a dozen different food stations, all enticing: salads, omelets, Thai noodles, fajitas. I chose noodles and a salad and carried them on a tray to a table by a wall of windows. Roughly half of the other tables were occupied. I looked for Dr. Sawyer but didn’t see him. I didn’t mind; my thoughts were swirling, and it was a relief not to have to talk to anyone for a little while. When I’d finished eating, I ordered a double espresso and took it back to my table. I sat drinking it, looking out at the sunlit vineyard, until Stefan came to find me again.
The afternoon was devoted to a bewildering array of physical and cognitive examinations. These included both the obvious tests—heart rate, blood pressure, eyesight—and some less intuitive ones, like balance, reaction time, flexibility. I ran on a treadmill for twenty minutes. I climbed into a tank of cold water, ducked under, and held my breath for as long as I could. Then I sat in a sauna until I felt lightheaded. After the sauna, I stood for a long time in a room I recognized from my stints in food service as being essentially a walk-in freezer. In between the physical challenges, I was asked to count forward and backward in English and Mandarin by ones, twos, fives, and sevens, memorize strings of random words and recite them on command, and play any number of diabolically complex memory games.
“Are these astronaut tests?” I asked Stefan when I’d gotten my breath back after the sauna.
“More or less. They’re designed to assess your stamina and your ability to stay alert under stress.”
“How am I doing? I know I totally screwed up that color-matching thing.”
“True, but you stayed calm, which is one of the qualities they’re evaluating. And they’re still testing you. That’s a good sign. Above everything else, they’re examining your endurance.”
“I’ll run on that treadmill all night if it’ll get me to Vardesh Prime,” I said. But I felt a chill of uncertainty. I was being measured against experienced military operatives, men and women—or just men?—who could undoubtedly continue with these tests for days on end without flagging or showing signs of confused thinking.
When the tests finally concluded, Stefan walked me back to my dormitory, where I showered and changed into warm dry clothes. Those sensations, added to the rigor of the day, left me practically asleep on my feet. I went downstairs to find Stefan waiting for me in the cottage’s tiny kitchen. We returned to the dining hall in the main complex, where I ate dinner alone at the same table where I’d eaten lunch. The room was more crowded than it had been at midday, but again no one troubled me. Again I welcomed the solitude. As I sat there, looking out at the lights of Zurich twinkling in the distance, I was unable to call up even a shred of the excitement I’d felt when talking to Councillor Seidel that morning. The tests had done their work. My dormitory and Vardesh Prime seemed equally remote. With dragging steps I followed Stefan out of the brightly lit building, across the shadowy green, and up the stairs to my room. “Sleep in as late as you can,” he said. “You don't have any appointments in the morning. Can you find your way back to the dining hall alone?” When I nodded, he said, “Good. I’ll meet you there at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Don’t let me sleep through the Vardeshi,” I warned him.
He laughed. “Don't worry. I won’t.”
A few minutes later, returning from brushing my teeth
in the shared bathroom, I heard voices in one of the other rooms on my hallway. The door was closed. I knew I ought to knock and introduce myself. Instead I went into my own room, closed my own door, stretched out on the bed, and fell asleep fully clothed without even turning off the lights.
CHAPTER THREE
Awakening a full twelve hours later, according to the quaint analog clock on the bedside table, I knew two things immediately. The first was that every muscle in my body was excruciatingly sore. The second was that sometime today I would walk into a room with Vardeshi in it. That thought propelled me out of bed—and into a fuller understanding of the extent to which yesterday’s tests had taxed my body. Moving more cautiously, I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt from my duffel bag, then took a few minutes to unpack its remaining contents into the chest of drawers and closet provided. When that was done, I headed downstairs. I didn’t hear any voices as I passed the other bedrooms. I made for the dining hall, thinking of that omelet bar and a juice station I thought I’d seen.
Stefan found me at the same table where I’d eaten the previous day. “You’re hungry,” he said—approvingly, I thought—surveying the assortment of plates and cups spread out in front of me.
“Starving,” I agreed. “Will you join me?”
“In a coffee, at least.” He went off to the espresso station and returned a few moments later with a double espresso in a tiny cup.
“So when do I meet them?” I asked between mouthfuls of omelet.
He smiled. “Hans certainly didn’t exaggerate your enthusiasm.”
“Does he often exaggerate?”
“Never, that I’ve seen. But his description of you sounded too good to be true. I think he expected some hesitation on your part. We all did. After all, you’re a civilian, even if you do speak Vardeshi, and we’re proposing to send you into real danger. Hans thought we would have some persuading to do. Instead, it seems to have gone the other way. You’ve persuaded him that you’re ready for Vardesh Prime. Now he’s trying to win over the other Council members.”
Ascending (The Vardeshi Saga Book 1) Page 4