by Rebel West
“Oh, I hear you.” I roll my eyes, but I’m unprepared for what she says next.
“But you’re a scientist, so you have more leeway. It’s harder for me, because I’m, well, kind of a criminal?”
“Wait. What?” I’m no expert on Luminarian law, but the humans who are allowed to visit Luminar undergo extensive background checks, and there’s no way someone without a perfectly clean record would be allowed to participate in the exchange program.
“It’s a long story.” Willow sighs, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “And really, I’m not supposed to discuss it. But you seem so nice, and it’s been so long since I’ve had an actual friend. Not that we’ll be allowed to be friends. I can’t do anything if the commander doesn’t approve it. But long story short? I was in trouble on Earth, for something I didn’t do. I mean, well, I did do it. But it was to save someone’s life. And then I snuck onto a transfer ship to come here because the Guard wanted to make an example of me…”
“Oh, my God.” The mention of the Guard clues me in. “You’re from the Villages.”
Willow nods.
“I have so many questions.” I swallow, wishing we had more time to chat. My own life on Earth has been filled with challenges, certainly, but not outright hardship like the people living in the rubble of the Villages. I’ve never actually met someone from there, and it’s almost like meeting someone from another planet. Willow is almost more alien to me than Lock, if such a thing is possible.
“What’s going to happen to you now?” I glance over at the commander, who’s still engaged in conversation with Lock. He looks strict; that much is obvious from the way he holds himself.
Willow shrugs. “I am under Commander Callax’s supervision while he and his team investigate my crime on Earth. There’s no extradition agreement for someone like me, because nobody anticipated it was possible to stow away and sneak onto Luminar. So they’re trying to decide what’s in the best interests of Luminar and Earth relations. And, I think that the commander intends to be as fair as possible about this. Even though I don’t think he likes humans very much.”
I open my mouth to ask a question, one of the hundreds I have, when Lock touches my shoulder gently, a gesture that send shivers of desire through my body.
Chapter Twenty Five
“Our table awaits.” Lock points ahead to a low, flat table.
“Willow, it was nice to meet you. I hope we talk again?” It’s a question, only because I don’t know what this planet has in store for me, or whether I’ll be allowed to meet her. I add under my breath, “I hope you get to stay.” Getting sent back to the Guard—that can be a fate worse than death.
“Me, too.” She grabs my hand and squeezes, before the commander nods to her and takes her arm.
Our table is surrounded with what look like bucket chairs. But when I sit, the seat conforms to my body, supporting my back and posture in a way that’s incredibly comfortable.
“Oh, it moves. I like it.” I lean to the side just to experience the chair’s adaptive maneuvers. “This is so cool. Oh, I wish we had this at home.”
Lock observes, a small smile on his face. “It is fun to watch you enjoying our culture and technology.”
I touch his hand. “I’d love to take you to Earth and show you all of our things. I think you’d get a kick out of the old subway system—we can tour it. And the horse ranch near my home. Coffee shops! Oh, and our CO2 absorption farms. You mentioned the atmosphere stuff—I bet you’d love to see how we extract CO2 from the air. It’s fantastic.”
His face grows serious. “That was actually one of the very things I visited on my previous trip to Earth, although I didn’t get to see the other places you mentioned. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make a trip to Earth anytime soon.”
“Of course. I mean, not until your bro—” I cut myself off. “So about that girl? Willow? And the commander?”
Lock looks. “What about them?”
I shrug. “I just… I mean… she seemed really nice.” I want to ask if he has any pull, as a prince, to help Willow out. Undoubtedly he does. But I don’t know her situation, and I don’t want to make things worse by gossiping. I have confidence that the Luminarians will do the right thing, whatever that is.
“Yes. She did.” Lock raises his eyebrow as if in warning, and then he nods to the person on his other side, who’s listening intently. “Lukka, may I introduce you to Earth scientist Cali Taylor?”
The alien raises his hand and dips his head forward from his chair. “Many happy suns to you, Dr. Taylor. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well.”
“Lukka is one of the lawyers on my legal team,” Lock explains, and I think this makes sense. Because even though Lukka is a tall, silvery-blue alien with flowing hair and impressive abs, he has that sort of alert vibe I’ve always associated with Earth lawyers. Always watching, even the good ones. As if they are storing away everything for future use, not all of it beneficial to me. And I don’t really like the way Lukka looks me up and down, an unmistakable check-you-out that is close to a leer, if I’m not mistaken. Ugh.
I turn to the Luminarian on my other side, who is another advisor, Alaris. He’s more aloof than others, and while Lock chats with various aliens around him about matters of state, I fall silent.
When the food comes, I’m relieved at the distraction, but the dishes are confusing at best. I don’t recognize anything, even with all of my forays into the MFD in my chambers, and I’m nervous to try things, in case they have an awful flavor.
Lock notices my reluctance. “Try this,” he says in an undertone, gesturing at a platter of something in a brown sauce. “It’s akka fish in an herb and spice gravy. It’s a favorite.”
“A favorite of yours?”
“Of everyone’s. It’s a rare dish, expensive. Many citizens never get to try it.”
I think of Japanese puffer fish. “Does it have poisonous ovaries that have to be removed by certified chefs?” I murmur, more of a joke to myself than anything.
But Lock hears. “Poison? No, of course not. What do you mean?”
In fact, several other aliens fall silent, looking at me. I feel like I’ve committed a grave faux pas.
Dr. Jayya speaks up, a few places down the table, and I’m irritated that she’s a part of this event. “Dr. Taylor, I assure you, we are more civilized than that.” She give that cool smile, the one that makes me irritated. “We do not serve food on this planet that would be dangerous to ourselves, or to our valued guests.”
I swallow. “It was a joke, sort of.”
When everyone is still quiet, I add, “On Earth, we do that. In Japan—that’s a large, amazing territory on Earth—they have a fish called fugu, and it’s prized and expensive. But part of it, the ovaries, contains a deadly toxin. So special chefs only prepare the fugu, and have to be trained in the art of it so they don’t make a mistake and kill someone.”
“That’s so barbaric and odd.” The comment comes from a Luminarian woman across from Dr. Jayya.
Even though I’ve thought so myself on occasion, I bristle. “It’s an ancient tradition and very valued in Japan, even today. It’s about holding yourself to such high standards of excellence, flawlessness, that you don’t make a mistake. It’s about achieving a state of no mistakes and about a culture of trust.”
I’m not a hundred percent sure, but that seems right. And although I’ve never tried fugu, I can halfway understand the appeal. I continue, “It’s about the adrenaline rush that comes from taking a risk. It’s like a roller coaster. A tandem skydive. You’re putting your life in someone else’s hands. Allowing yourself to trust. And when it works out okay, the resulting exhilaration is the biggest rush you’ve ever had. It’s like cocaine to the brain, but better.”
Puzzled looks, and I figure nobody understands my references to roller coasters and cocaine. Do they even do skydiving here? My shoulders droop.
“I think it’s just a sign of how ar
chaic the Earth customs still are,” remarks Dr. Jayya, with a little look to her seatmate. “Engaging in such reckless life endangerment is a sign of an unevolved culture, one that still needs to rely on brutal mechanisms to achieve enjoyment. A sign that life is not fully respected.”
“No.” I shake my head, the words coming automatically. “It’s about recognizing that life is fragile and short and fraught with danger. It’s acknowledging that there are risks everywhere, in things you think are perfectly safe, and laughing in the face of death.” I look at Lock, and he gives me a small smile and nods, so I feel emboldened to continue. “Look. Every time you get into a hovercraft, you put your entire trust into the Luminarians who developed the nav systems, right? You’re not controlling the craft; a computer system is, and you trust implicitly that the system will not fail you. That there won’t be a glitch, an error, a situation the programmers never thought to plan for, and that you won’t die in a fiery crash. Right?”
A few nods. “And when you get food from your MFD, you trust that the machine prepares it in a way that is compatible with life, and doesn’t add chemicals accidentally that might kill you? Every day, sun, you give away your life to a hundred different citizens for caretaking, one to the next, a great big chain. So eating the fugu is a palpable, controllable situation in which you get to say, ‘Yes. My life is so often in other people’s hands, people I don’t know, people I trust blindly. Here is a chef with renown. I’m going to trust this person I can see and touch and talk with.’ It’s about controlled lack of control.”
Lock nods slowly, and so do a few others. I feel a new respect for me emanating from many of the guests.
But Dr. Jayya rolls her eyes. “Dr. Taylor, the more you talk about it, the less sense it makes. But I guess we know not to trust you to prepare our dinner anytime.”
Laughter, chuckles, and then conversation begins to flow again in different patterns, as aliens turn to each other with comments, chatter.
“You’re welcome, Japan,” I mutter. “You owe me a few hundred Hello Kitties right about fucking now.”
“Excuse me?” Lock tilts his head, eyes alert.
“Nothing.”
“What is a Hello Kitty?”
“It’s a cute cartoon kitty—an animal, similar to a semi, without a mouth. It’s really popular in AsiaCon and also in the N-USA. They are popular toys.”
“Why does it have no mouth?” asks the same woman who made the “that’s so odd” comment.
Dr. Jayya smirks. “So it can’t make ridiculous remarks about poisoned fish at a state dinner,” and the people around her burst into peals of laughter.
At this, I’ve had enough. “You know,” I start, and clear my throat, attracting attention from those seated nearby, “Hello Kitty is no odder than the Makki’pek doll that you sell. I saw it on a vid about popular culture. That one has no arms. And you know what else? On Earth, when we’re meeting new people, we don’t deliberately try to offend them. And…”
Lock puts his hand on my arm and tightens his fingers. “It is true that we have certain activities on Luminar that don’t necessarily make perfect sense,” he agrees, and everyone turns to listen. “For example, the Luminarians who enjoy tal-bek.”
“Oh, good point,” murmurs someone. I give Lock a questioning glance.
He smiles. “Luminarians can hold their breath for a long time. There are underground tunnels in the sea in an area called the Jayan Reefs, long winding tunnels. It is a sport called tal-bek to hold your breath and swim through the tunnels as far as you can. The current record holder boasts a time underwater of seven seccs.” That’s about ten minutes, I think—wow.
“But that’s different,” argues Jayya, her face turning more silvery-blue.
“It’s probably far more dangerous,” Lock says affably. “As you recall, we have unfortunately lost several citizens this past cycle to tal-bek, ones who practice in unsafe tunnels and don’t swim with a buddy who carries oxygen supplies.”
“It’s considered a sign of weakness to have a buddy.” Jayya’s voice is stiff and loud. “I personally swim tal-bek and I assure you, when one prepares properly and is aware of the junctures in the tunnels that allow fast access to the surface, there is minimal risk.”
Lock tips his head. “Legislature has come across my desk time and again to ban the procedure. I have chosen to implement rules to make it safer, because I know citizens will do it regardless.”
He squeezes my hand. “It would appear that the adrenaline rush isn’t unique to Earth.”
“That makes sense,” the lawyer comments, and the rest of the table nods. “It is interesting to find that we have so many things in common after all.” He smiles at me.
One thing, I think, and wonder if he possibly divines my dislike for Dr. Jayya, also dislikes the physician, and is counting that as a shared trait. I smile at the thought.
Dr. Jayya smirks. “Except humans are far more barbaric in all ways.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist. “If you want to talk about barbaric, how about the Luminarians who use the zebb for farm work in the colonies to the south and shave down their horns and hurt them so they live in pain? To me, that’s far more barbaric than eating a fish, carefully prepared, from which literally no people have died in over fifty years. And…”
“Stop,” Lock whispers curtly under his breath. “Now. This is not becoming, nor is it helpful. Ignore them.”
I bite my lip. “Never mind,” I say to the table at large, and Dr. Jayya in particular looks pleased. Again, conversation flows back to other topics.
“A word in private, Dr. Taylor?” Lock’s hand on mine is firm but gentle, as he leads me away from the group, close to the undulating water ribbon of exotic fish. He takes both of my hands and looks into my eyes.
“Cali. You have no room to antagonize anyone. As the only human many of these citizens have met, you need to project the attitude of cool control.”
“But she was insulting my planet.” Tears spring to my eyes. “I responded automatically. It was hard to hear.”
“And citizens can understand that.” His tone is patient. “Think about how you want humans to be seen. You have already been developing a reputation as a diplomat in the short minutes you’ve been with these citizens. It matches with your goals of encouraging our cultures to come together. Don’t ruin that.”
“I’m not a diplomat! I’m a scientist, Lock. I spend time in my lab, most of my time. I have no social life. I work, and work, and work. I don’t give speeches, or lead delegations, or have to prove anything about humans to anyone. That’s not my job.” My voice rises. I want to work together to help our planets share knowledge, but it’s harder than I thought.
He squeezes my palms. “I’m sorry, but it’s your job now. For the sake of our IRT and future interactions, choose your words wisely.”
“It’s a heavy burden.” He’s right, though. I have to try harder.
He nods. “The best you can do is to acknowledge it and use it to your advantage. Which you were not doing, just now.”
“I understand.” I blink rapidly to dissipate the tears. “It’s just not my comfort zone. I talked earlier about my lofty goals about sharing cultures and ideas, but in practice, it’s not so easy.”
“I have confidence you will master it.” He leans in so his breath tickles my ear. “And remember, if you do well, I have promised you quite a nice reward later.”
I flush and instant arousal suffuses me. “I’ll be sure to remind you.”
“First be sure to earn it.” He raises one eyebrow and smiles, a quirky grin that makes my heart melt. He took the time to help me deal with my emotions, and he stood up for me in front of his valued team. My heart swells with an emotion I don’t wish to identify.
Chapter Twenty Six
I force myself to be a good ambassador. When a few Luminarians come up to me while we are mingling with after-dinner drinks, asking about crime on Earth, I refuse to get angry even when they
loftily compare crime rates unfavorably between the planets, bringing up the Villages, implying that Earth rulers are weak, flawed, and stupid. This is not entirely untrue, yet at the same time, Earth is full of beauty and knowledge. I swing the conversation around to the science of bone grafts, something Lock has repeatedly said Earth excels at doing, and see the faces around me show respect.
It’s hard to hold my tongue when a delegate to the high council asked me endless questions about civil rights and civil liberties, again highlighting how much better things are on Luminar. I smile and nod, refusing to get baited into an argument. Then I bring up how amazing it would be if my own research could help improve neurological medications on Luminar, which seems to be a very popular topic.
I discuss how I’m even working on improving the structure of a key medicine to make it better for Luminarians. Lock comments about that, and even Dr. Jayya adds a comment so unexpected I cough on my glass of Shelk.
“I’ve personally reviewed Dr. Taylor’s modifications to the Lamixx molecule,” she says, nodding. “And I think it will be ready for Luminarian trials in less than a cycle. It’s brilliant research and will be a boon to our entire planet.”
Then she adds, “I’ll be sure to oversee it and manage the project, of course,” and my mood sours slightly. Still, a compliment from Dr. Jayya—is that like winning the lottery?
Lock squeezes my shoulder. “So you can see how this IRT is already yielding impressive returns.” He nods to the group around us. “Commander Tor has informed me that we are making excellent progress with the atmospheric scientists as well, and expect to begin construction on a state-of-the-art CO farm within several hects.”
Murmurs ring out, and even a smattering of applause. “Of course,” Lock adds, “you will hear the formal announcement from the palace PR staff soon. But it’s good to share good news when we get it, yes?” He raises his glass and says something in Luminarian, a toast my translator doesn’t understand, and the others repeat his gesture and words.