Assegai

by S J MacDonald

  There was no need to say any more than that, and no real argument against it. Canelon was one of the League’s most popular tourist destinations, mostly because they had turned their own history and cultural heritage into a planet-sized theme park.

  ‘I believe,’ said Hevine, high on his dignity, ‘that it is downright unpatriotic to accuse the League of cultural imperialism…’

  Alex drew the ensuing argument to a halt at the point where things were becoming rather too heated even for the informality allowed in these seminars. Dan Tarrance had just called Skipper Hevine a reactionary fossil, which was generally the point at which productive debate became a slanging match.

  ‘It is, like any moral issue, a matter of personal opinion,’ he said, and appealed to for his opinion on it, smiled. ‘No comment,’ he said, which got groans of protest and some wry laughter. But they settled down, with Min sending the discussion into slightly less controversial territory.

  ‘I think it’s really romantic,’ she said, ‘that they still have princes.’

  ‘I don’t see that,’ Skipper Hevine snapped, still rankling over the fossil. ‘In my view, this clinging to rule by hereditary aristocracy is one of the factors holding them back.’

  It was a valid point. At the time of first contact, Camae had long since emerged from their Dark Age period of autocratic monarchy, but they had retained a royal aristocracy alongside and entwined with their elected governments. There were nine continents on Camae, nine nations, nine princes. Even before first contact they had a largely ceremonial function, serving almost as ambassadors in playing host, meet and greet, the social and ceremonious arm of government.

  And the princes were, indeed, still undertaking that role even today. In the fourteen hundred years since they’d established a System Senate, they had had a hundred and fifty two System Presidents, many of them serving for the maximum permitted three five-year terms. Of those, only eighteen had not been princes. The people of Camae, when voting for their System President, were immovably of the view that they wanted a prince. Princes, they said, were born and brought up to the job, that was so obvious it hardly needed saying. The current System President, Prince Ris Glynvawr, was in his third term of office, and so popular that he would have been voted back into office until extreme old age, had it not been for the three-term rule.

  ‘It’s embarrassing for other System Presidents,’ Dan said. ‘They’re all career politicians and most of them foam at the mouth with republican zeal even at the thought of any kind of inherited power, so even sending letters to a fellow president who is also a hereditary prince is just a diplomatic minefield. And state visits, wow!’ He laughed, having spent some time reviewing the few state visits there’d been from the presidents of other systems, persuaded to visit Camae in an attempt to raise their profile. ‘They either kiss-fingers and say ‘my lord’ and get slaughtered by their own media and political opponents, or refuse and are considered pig-ignorant by the Camag. That is a no, no win situation.’

  ‘Well, there you are, see,’ Hevine declared, so confused by finding himself actually in agreement with Dan over any point that he challenged him on it automatically. ‘That’s what I said! This hanging on to ancient customs, titles and so on, it’s holding them back!’

  ‘Or you could say,’ Dan retorted, just as automatically combative, ‘that it’s the fault of the League Establishment, so up their own backsides they can’t accept – or respect – any culture even the slightest bit variant from their own.’

  ‘All right…’ Alex called a halt to the argument that triggered after a few minutes, and just before Dan could get to the ‘reactionary fossil’ point again. ‘We are,’ he observed, ‘out of time.’ The sessions were restricted to an hour, which he often had to enforce or they’d have gone on all afternoon. ‘So…’ he drew the class back into some semblance of a seminar by putting up the usual wrap-up screen. ‘The topic is Camae: The World the League Forgot. I believe we have agreed that Camae is under-represented in terms of their profile within the League, and we have identified a number of factors significant to that.’ He was writing them down as he spoke, in a concept diagram. ‘How much weight you assign to each of these is a matter of opinion, but the point is to have a big picture view, going in, using that to inform operational decisions. And in the light of that…’ he drew a big bubble around the entire diagram, ‘you should all understand what a huge deal this visit is for Camae. It isn’t just about giving them a high-prestige diplomatic event or drawing the League’s media attention to them for a couple of weeks. If we are to leave them with any lasting benefit from this visit then we have to address causal factors. So, what do you think?’

  After several minutes of rapid discussion a consensus emerged that they could not work miracles, but that the only causal factor within their power to influence was the issue of Camae’s strongly independent cultural identity. At which point consensus broke down, with Skipper Hevine and a couple of the others maintaining that they had a duty, as officers in the service of the League, to promote League culture, aka Central Worlds culture. The rest, however, were far more vocally of the view that this was a wonderful opportunity for the League to show respect for Camae’s own culture and promote the principle of inclusive diversity.

  ‘You’d put office blocks and a Cosmos Park on Carrearranis, you would,’ Eldovan told Hevine, and it was apparent that in her eyes this made him not merely a cultural imperialist but a barbarian.

  ‘Reactionary,’ Dan agreed, and the word fossil was hanging in the air.

  ‘All right – thank you,’ Alex called them back to order again with a friendly grin. ‘You will all be flag officers one day,’ he said, ‘and have to make this kind of call. But here and now that one’s on me. So we will, whilst we are at Camae, be taking every opportunity to show respect for and celebrate their traditional culture. I expect all of you to give me your support in that.’

  He looked at Hevine, who responded at once, ‘Yes, of course!’

  And he meant that. However fierce his own views were on what was wrong with Camae and how it ought to be addressed, he was Fleet to the core. Debate was over. The flag captain had made the call, and he could rely on Hevine entirely to back him up.

  ‘Very good.’ Alex got to his feet unhurriedly and they all got up too, not with the springing-to-attention of officers in formal briefing but just recognising that the session was over. ‘Finger-kissing lessons,’ said Alex, ‘will be at 0900 tomorrow.’

  And he walked out, leaving them roaring with laughter.

  Fourteen

  Finger-kissing lessons did take place across the ship next morning, to the delight of the Assegai’s crew.

  The destroyer had slowed right down to crawling pace while still eight hours away from the system. Even if Camae was prepared for the possibility of their application for the Fourth to visit being successful, such preparations could only be general, and they had to know that there was a very low chance of their world being chosen. So it was only considerate to send ahead and warn them of the Assegai’s imminent arrival.

  Davie had done that, in fact, slipping the Stepeasy’s tender out of its docking bay in the small hours of the morning and sending it ahead. So they were idling along, now, waiting for the tender to return and confirm that Camae would be ready to receive them.

  It was a somewhat restless time, those hours hanging around with nothing to do, wanting to get on to their destination. So the finger-kissing lessons – or, more properly the Camag Protocols Briefing – were perfectly timed as a lively distraction. For one glorious hour, the Assegai’s crew were permitted to practice formal Camag protocols by greeting anyone – of any rank – with a finger-kiss and ‘my lord’. And it would be ‘prince’ and ‘my lord’ regardless of gender. There were no princesses or ladies on Camae, as the Camag words for ‘prince’ and ‘my lord’ were gender neutral. It was only in Standard that they acquired masculine implications.

  ‘My lord…’ Simmy was having great
fun, prancing about as if rehearsing for a pageant.

  Alex let her kiss his hand, or rather, not kiss his hand, as the correct protocol was to pretend to kiss the knuckle of the prince’s middle finger – and how much fun were they having on the mess decks with that one – whilst actually doing an air-kiss about a centimetre from the skin.

  ‘Well done,’ Alex said, and could only hope that the Camag princes had the ability to keep a straight face.

  ‘Ta.’ Simmy beamed, and rushed off to keep practising.

  Alex was surprised by how rapidly – and broadly – the Camag responded to the news of the Assegai’s arrival. It must have been a shock – they had, after all, asked for the Fourth to visit with Silvie, so any preparations they’d made would have been for the Heron. Being told that their application had won the prize of a visit from Silvie would have been astonishing enough in itself, but to also be told that it wasn’t the Heron arriving but the very much bigger brand new Assegai, that had to have thrown whatever ideas they had already had into disarray.

  They had taken just two hours, though, to respond to the news with a plan for the Assegai’s arrival, a provisional itinerary and a mass of invitations. It was apparent to Alex that everyone involved in the original application to have the Fourth and Silvie visit had been called and told the Assegai would be arriving in a matter of hours, and that they had promptly adapted whatever plans they’d had.

  Dr Payling was smart enough to recognise that, too, and came to see Alex in something of a dilemma.

  ‘I’m sure that when they planned these things they were hoping for Dr Tekawa,’ he said. ‘But I’ve been invited to all kinds of medical events – including giving the keynote speech at a global conference on exo-medicine they’re arranging for next week.’ It was evident that the conference was being pulled together at that short notice so that the Assegai’s medical officer could give the keynote speech. ‘I’m not quite sure,’ he admitted, ‘what to do – should I deputise for Dr Tekawa in this?’

  Alex looked at him for a moment to be sure that he was serious, and shook his head.

  ‘You don’t need to go there as Dr Tekawa’s deputy,’ he told him. ‘You’re qualified – and worthy! – to lead such events in your own right.’

  Dr Payling looked uncertain. ‘I’ve never been asked to give keynote at global conference before.’

  ‘Well, you weren’t the medical officer on the ship carrying the quarian ambassador before, were you?’ Alex said reasonably. ‘They will have, I’m guessing, about a million questions. And they want to ask you. So, deep breath, Dr.’ He gave him a bracing smile. ‘Relax,’ he advised, ‘and enjoy it.’

  That fugitive smile lurked on Dr Payling’s face for a moment, revealing the shy man behind the bombast.

  ‘It is,’ he admitted, ‘a huge honour. And I would be… well, if you’re sure they’ll really be happy with me, I would… well, I really would rather like to do it.’

  ‘Good,’ Alex approved, but he could see that wasn’t quite it, yet. ‘But…?’

  ‘Well… I did wonder, if you felt that it is in order for me to accept in my own right as it were, rather than presenting some of Dr Tekawa’s papers as his proxy – but if you do think it’s all right, I did wonder if you would have any objection to my presenting my paper on quarian physical therapy.’

  He meant the paper he’d originally started researching at Alex’s suggestion, investigating the factors involved in Alex’s astonishingly rapid recovery. The paper had ended up with the other factors – drugs, diet, even Rangi’s precious healing tea – being dismissed in brief paragraphs, with the impact of the time Alex had spent on the aquadeck gone into in much greater depth.

  As far as Alex was concerned, he’d merely been having relaxing spas, massage and naps. Dr Payling, however, had discovered that the spa treatment involved the application of quarian oils which had therapeutic properties – oils selected for him by Silvie herself. The massage, too, had turned out to be far more sophisticated than the kind of auto-massage tables which might be found in gyms or even in the therapy room in sickbay. It used air-jets for deep and precisely controlled pressure, and Silvie had programmed it specifically to help Alex work the build-up of toxins from his muscles. And the naps, too, those lovely naps in the rest room she’d set up as a replica of his favourite place on Quarus, were actually deep relaxation sessions in an isolation chamber. Again, programmed by Silvie for optimum benefit.

  So Silvie had, in fact, been providing quarian physical therapy, which Dr Payling had concluded had brought Alex back to good health a good couple of days sooner than he would have got there otherwise.

  That would, indeed, make a sensational keynote presentation, and Alex could see that the medic was almost quivering with the intensity of longing. Please, pleeeeeease!

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and braced himself for the hand-wringing and exuberant thanks he knew were about to hit him, ‘Of course, Dr, that’s fine.’

  He was obliged to reassure Min too, about two aspects of the itinerary which were troubling her. She had also been asked to give a prestigious presentation. In her case, the talk was to an invited audience drawn from the nine national colleges which together made up Camae System University. They were the cream of Camae’s academia, including the chancellors of all nine colleges. And they wanted her to speak to them about the aquadeck.

  ‘I’ve never been asked to do anything like that before,’ Min said. ‘I don’t know what kind of standards they’re expecting, but I’m a starship officer, not an academic!’

  Alex laughed. ‘There is nothing to worry about,’ he promised her. ‘You give that level of presentation all the time, you did it in command school, you’ve done it for me in the training group, and you write up reports for the Diplomatic Corps too, routinely, which are every bit the equivalent of academic papers. In fact, you have already written up the aquadeck – just give them the project records, that’s got it covered!’

  Min was shocked. ‘If I am going to do this,’ she said, quite sternly, ‘I can certainly do better than that.’

  ‘Well then, go to,’ said Alex. ‘And don’t ask me for sympathy – I’ve got the Senate.’

  That made her laugh, as she’d already seen on the itinerary prepared for Alex that he was expected to address the System Senate, which would assemble in a special session to hear his views on this momentous time of advancement for the human species.

  ‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘But then there’s this…’ she indicated part of the overall Assegai itinerary which was causing her concern. At various times during the following two weeks, every single member of the Assegai’s crew would be attending a royal reception at one of the nine nations – invitations to an actual palace, no less. ‘My crew,’ she said, ‘are not trained to attend events at that level, Alex. My Subs are barely trained to attend events at that level! I can see they mean it kindly, of course, making us all welcome, but it really isn’t something a regular Fleet crew would – or should – be expected to do, is it?’

  ‘No, you can’t expect them to do it,’ Alex said. ‘But if you make it available to volunteers you’ll get a hundred per cent take up, I believe. And as for training – do you think they’ll let you down, then? Get roaring drunk, or start food fights?’

  ‘No!’ she was indignant. ‘Alex!’

  ‘Well, then. Trust them,’ Alex said. ‘And trust the hospitality of the Camag, too. The princes host events for people from all ranks of society, they do it all the time, and Camag hospitality is never about making people feel inferior or uncomfortable. The events will be perfectly planned so that everyone enjoys them, and the princes themselves will be perfectly charming. That is what they do, after all, that is their job.’

  That made her laugh. ‘Weird, though, isn’t it?’ she observed. ‘I grew up with kings and queens as something that was just in fairy tales. I did see a king on Canelon, once – he was riding a horse, with a crown on. The king, not the horse. But it was pageantry – whether he re
ally was the descendant of ancient kings, or what, I dunno, but the whole thing looked to me like the kind of royal pageant you get at Cosmos Park, faked up, just a show. But it’s different on Camae; not a living history exhibit, but who they really are, official, part of the establishment. I know they function as ambassadors and I am trying to think of them that way. But strictly between ourselves, Alex, there is a five year old deep inside me squeaking with excitement at the prospect of meeting a real live prince!’ She saw his merry grin, and shook her head. ‘And that just – doesn’t thrill you at all, does it?’

  ‘No, it isn’t that,’ he said. ‘I was just struck by the fact that you can be so thrilled at the idea of ‘meeting a prince’ when you’re already friends with Shion and with Davie North.’

  Min frowned a little, looking to see if he was pulling her leg, but she could see he was sincere.

  ‘I know,’ he said, answering the doubtful look on her face. ‘Shion has set aside her titles and serves on the same basis as any other officer, and if you ask her about it she will tell you that her rank on Pirrell was really very minor in the scheme of things. But the fact is that she did grow up royal, Min, she is of an ancient genome, like the Solarans or the Olaret, and grew up in an incredibly ritualised culture, where even the type of cup used to serve a particular tea has profound significance. You haven’t seen it yet, but it is possible she may attend an event here as a chamlorn – not in any diplomatic capacity, of course, but socially, as a guest. If she does then you will see her every millimetre Chamlorn Lady Ariel Mgwamba et Savurai, Grace of a Noble House, Purest of Blood, Breath of the Karlane. Because she is, in fact, theatrical as it sounds, an alien princess. And Davie North, well, if he isn’t a prince – an imperial prince – in everything but name, then I don’t know what is. Ask him, sometime, when you’ve got half an hour, to list all his ancestors back to the Delaney who funded the first superlight ships. And it isn’t because of his superhuman abilities that he knows that. You could ask any member of the Families, every one of them can tell you their ancestry back two thousand years. That, in my book, along with their wealth and role in our society, makes them the unacknowledged aristocracy of the League. And you, you’re friends with both of them, just as you are with Silvie, Jarlner and Bennet – hard to imagine, really, much more of a high powered social circle. So I don’t think, really, that you need to be at all nervous over meeting a hard working diplomat who happens to carry a traditional title, any more than you would be meeting Her Excellency the League Ambassador.’