by Jean Johnson
“Don’t forget to say that at my tribunal if I need any witnesses in my defense,” Jackie replied, moving to the left of their formation. “But do phrase it more politely.” Checking the weapon to make sure she knew if it was loaded, she watched Jasmine take her place between Li’eth and the Palm of Cho.
Taking Buraq’s position put her right next to the K’Katta war leader. Oddly enough, after walking for weeks through Salik minds and now cratering her political career, Jackie didn’t feel nearly as creeped out about a two-meter-wide spider-person. K’Katta truly were gentle-hearted for the most part, or whatever passed for the emotive equivalent of their circulatory organ. It is quite possible, she thought privately, that I’m now going to develop a phobia of frogs, ostriches, and octopuses . . . Octopi?
Booting hell . . . I don’t think anyone has solved that linguistics dilemma in the last few centuries.
At least it was something to keep her mind off what she had done.
EMBASSY 1, SALLHA ORBIT
“Are you feeling insane?” August Callan demanded in Portuguese, giving Jackie a dubious look through the comm system. “Did you somehow sniff something hallucinogenic in the air on that alien world out there?”
“Premiere, I had no choice but to resign immediately. I conducted myself in an unethical way and needed to remove myself immediately from my position of power,” Jackie replied, and waited for the six-second delay between the Salik system and her homeworld.
The only other person in the cockpit was Robert, and he had on a pair of audio headphones, the chords and rhythms of country music filtering faintly through the bulky headset while he nodded along, keeping watch on their surroundings as they orbited the Salik Motherworld. Not that he spoke Portuguese, but he wanted to give her a chance for this conversation to be completely discreet since it couldn’t be completely private, thanks to the need to have the cockpit manned at all times while in orbit around a hostile planet.
“You saved lives!” Callan protested, throwing his hands up in the air when her end of their conversation finally reached him. “You saved millions, if not billions, of lives and resources and years of constant guerilla warfare as we tried to pacify and subdue all those planets—General I’osha on V’Ton-Be contacted me within one hour of rebroadcasting that surrender code to ask me to pass along her personal thanks to you. She said that because of that broadcast, all rebellious activity among her Salik prisoners had actually stopped! You saved the Alliance, young lady!”
“I faked his surrender!” Jackie shot back, snapping the words in his native tongue. “Yes, I saved countless lives, but I holokinetically faked him surrendering. I cannot go on to represent any group of people with that on my conscience! Who would trust me after I faked a major political deal?”
Six seconds later, while he strained to listen to her words . . . Callan’s shoulders slowly slumped. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he dragged in a deep breath. “. . . You’re right. You are absolutely right . . . and a part of me is cursing you for still being a near-perfect civil servant, even in your abandonment of your career. I understand His Highness still wishes you to serve as his cultural liaison while he’s doing this . . . War Prince thing. Is that correct?”
Jackie nodded. “We do still have an immense advantage in acting as cultural liaisons to each other. However, if you feel I should step down from that position, I am ready to do so,” she added. Below the edge of the cockpit comm-station console, her hands curled into fists. It hurt to give up her career, to have deliberately chosen to lie to everyone . . . but it was good to know she had saved so many lives by conning the Salik into surrendering for real. “I will abide by whatever the Council decides to do with me. The only thing I cannot agree to do is leave His Highness’ side, as that would cause harm to the son of our closest ally in the Alliance.”
“No one back here would ask you to do that,” he snorted six seconds later. “Jackie . . . you were supposed to find the codes in their minds and say them yourself.”
“Their minds don’t work that way. They’d never accept those codes from the lips . . . or nostrils . . . of an alien,” Jackie told him. “They had to see and hear it coming from their own leadership. I hoped it would end the war for good, and it did end the war for good . . . so . . . it was worth it. Imploding my career will be worth it.”
“. . . Yes, and if you keep saying that enough, you might one day believe it,” he retorted wryly. “As much as I want to throw a tantrum and protest that you cannot abandon your post, that you have to remain our Ambassador—because you are good at it—I can respect your professionalism . . . and the reason why you should not be trusted with that level of power ever again. However, I still intend to harness your skills and experience.
“The Council will hold a closed session to discuss your actions today,” he continued, “at which time I will strongly recommend you be appointed official Terran Cultural Liaison to the V’Dan Empire, and encourage the V’Dan Empire to permit you and your Gestalt partner to travel to all the worlds where Terrans will be settling. You and your insights into both sides of the Human cultural divide will still be put to work helping to shape policy for integrating and respecting our two nations as we start settling worlds beyond the Sol System.
“You won’t be signing any of those policies,” Premiere Callan clarified, no doubt anticipating that question, since the lag time involved between their locations meant there was no way she could protest atop his words and actually interrupt him at the right moment. “But you will be shaping them. If I have anything to say about it.”
“What about my military career?” Jackie asked. “I did conduct myself unethically as an officer of the Space Force. I’m going to have to face a tribunal for my actions.”
“That’s technically a much bigger gray area since subterfuge and deception are accepted and acceptable tactics,” the Premiere reminded her. “But from all the cheering I’ve heard among the Command Staff over the war ending so quickly with so few lost lives, I’d say it won’t be anything more than a brief inquest at most, never mind a formal tribunal.”
“Then . . . as soon as the inquest is over, Commander-in-Chief,” Jackie asked plaintively, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, “could I please have your permission to retire my commission as an officer in the Space Force? I’ve been so many things on this mission over the last year plus a day, it’d be nice to be one thing, just for once.”
She waited for his answer. This was her career—what was left of it on the line—and yet the stresses Jackie had suffered over the last several months had been exacerbated by trying to be all things to all people: Ambassador, Councilor, Military Advisor, Cultural Liaison, Translator, Psychic Soldier . . .
Oddly, it was only after she had exploded her right to hold one of the highest positions of her people that Jackie realized she had been under a great deal of stress. She wanted out of the excessive layers and tangles of responsibilities in which she was still enmeshed. Or at least to have some of them reduced.
That, however, was up to her superiors. Once again, her career—the new direction of her career—lay in the Premiere’s hands.
Callan rubbed his chin when her question reached him. He thought for several moments, then shrugged and nodded slowly. “Yes, I do believe you have been wearing far too many hats of late . . . Now that we have a lot more Space Force troops out there, we’re moving higher-ranked and better-trained officers in who can and should take your place. Plus, without a formal war needing a government representative to help authorize their activities, you won’t have to personally direct them.
“Of course, there is this whole interdiction of the Salik worlds we’ll have to enforce. They believe that they have officially surrendered, so that is an official end to the war . . . but everything we’ve learned so far about the Salik suggests that we will still have to deal with pockets of covert insurgency flaring up here and there.”
Jackie nodded. “Yes, their minds are master manipulators of interpretation when they want to get their own way. Alliance policy prior to the war was to pin them down in reams of unambiguous, carefully defined contracts hundreds of pages long.”
“Well, they’re under house . . . planet . . . arrest, so we won’t have to deal with that. Of course, you’ll still need to be called upon to serve your share in the xenopathic rota, extracting locations of hidden bases and equipment stockpiles . . . which means you will probably have to suffer being a Colonel in the Reserves for a while,” Premiere Callan added pointedly. “So don’t stop your daily calisthenics just yet. But at least it’ll be a partial retirement from the service.”
“Aughh! . . . Can I at least swap my time in the rota in exchange for the mandatory weekends of training and duty-service shifts that the Reserves normally have to do?” she asked. Begged, even. “I agree with you completely, sir; I am wearing far too many hats, out here! We need to reduce it down to something manageable because we are getting more and more of our people out into the rest of the galaxy. You are the Commander-in-Chief, you know; you can authorize it.”
“Technically, the military falls back under the Secondaire’s purview when war is over, so you’ll have to get on Pong’s sweet side,” Callan countered dryly . . . and smiled, teasing her. “Fine, I will see what I can do. As Cultural Liaison, you won’t be able to get out of the translative side of your duties, so don’t expect to hang up that career hat anytime soon. It’s just that you’ll be handling military secrets, so you need the military rank to be able to handle whatever information not only you yourself extract, but the civilian xenopaths who’ll be contracted to the military, when it’s your turn to supervise the rota.”
“I don’t mind translating, because languages have always been my fallback job,” she said. “So I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Thank you for understanding why I did what I had to do, Augustus.”
He listened to her words as they reached him, then shook his head wryly. “That’s just it, I both do and don’t understand why you did it. I understand your wanting to save lives because you’re a compassionate person, and I understand you needing to step down, because you’re quite ethical, too . . . but at the same time, you’ve been proud of your status as a high-ranked civil servant. There was no hint that you’d do this in the meetings leading up to today.”
She nodded slowly. “It was very much a last-moment decision. If I had a chance to go back in time and do it all over again . . . I’d still do it this way. It’s ruined me for politics—I wouldn’t even trust myself as an Advisor—but yeah . . . I did save a lot of lives, today. I ended a war. I made that call,” Jackie admitted, as much to herself as to her superior. “There aren’t very many people in all of existence who can honestly say that they personally ended a war. And that makes it worthwhile.”
“Yes, about that . . .” Callan drawled. He picked up a printout of something. “Just before you contacted me, I got word from President Marbleheart on what he and his top advisors think about what you did, today. The K’Katta want to give you several ‘Guardian honoraria,’ to express their deep appreciation for your efforts knowing that you sacrificed your career in order to ensure peace for their people. From what I understand, it involves letting them get close enough to put sashes over your head and shoulders. Given what I know about your arachnophobia . . . how do you want me to reply to their request?”
That was a fair question. “I’m still a bit disturbed by their appearance,” Jackie confessed. “But compared to the scary things lurking inside a Salik’s mind, I’d rather converse with a K’Katta any day. So . . . yeah, I could accept a few awards up close and personal if they think they should bestow any.”
“I’ll let the other governments know you’ll be willing to accept medal equivalents from them as well,” Callan stated.
“Wait—what?” Jackie asked, but there were six seconds of lag between them, twelve of turnaround time, so she fell silent while he continued.
“The V’Goro J’sta should be headed back to the V’Dan homeworld in a few days. I’d like you and the Embassy 1 to be on board. Ambassador Ah’nan will finally be returning to her people to take up her position as the Imperial Heir. The Empress has expressed a desire to appoint her eldest son as a chief liaison for tasks similar to yours, explaining cultural differences, smoothing over misunderstandings, and . . . yes, you heard me right. His Highness would be well suited for the task of working at your side, helping our people establish enclave settlements on some of their worlds over the next few decades.
“I’m hoping to have all the details worked out by the time you do reach V’Dan, so that they can be presented at the welcoming-home ceremony. The two of you working together as a team for that need would suit both governments exceptionally well,” Premiere Callan added. “Particularly as an example to hold up to the other Alliance members of how we can remain separate and distinct, yet still get along just fine.”
“I was hoping she’d be amenable to that,” Jackie admitted. “Will McCrary remain Grand High Ambassador to V’Dan?”
“Until we can train a successor for her, yes,” he replied. “By that point, we should be members of the Alliance—I’ll have to get used to writing ‘T.S.’ after every year, for Terran Standard, instead of ‘C.E.’ for Common Era, but I expect it’ll be no more annoying than remembering to write 2288 instead of 2287, now that we’ve passed the New Year back here.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Happy New Year,” she told him.
“Happy New Year to you, too, Jackie,” he replied, smiling wryly. “You’ve had one heck of a year, too. Thank you for putting up with all of this. I’ll bet it was nothing like what you’d imagined your life would be, back at the end of ’86.”
Since that was the absolute truth, she could only nod to that. “It’s definitely different. I’ll talk with you later, then. I need to go join His Highness in having a snack in the galley. I’d wait until we get back to the V’Goro, but it’s off helping pull Salik prisoners out of starships for shipping back down to the planet, so the Alliance can scuttle what’s left of their Fleet.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Eternal Empress,” Li’eth greeted his mother as soon as the connection went through. He waited for her own response, knowing she’d speak as soon as the signal reached her end of things.
“War Prince,” she acknowledged after eighteen seconds of round-trip lag time. Her voice trembled a little. “My son . . . I did not realize just how dangerous the proposed ploy would be. I thought it would just be like watching a hovercar crash. If I had known . . . I am deeply relieved you survived. I also wish you had vetoed volunteering for that.”
“We were not in any real danger,” Li’eth reassured her. “Given the other dangers we had already faced and survived, I had full confidence in the Ambassador’s abilities to protect our group. We survived, and we are now at peace. The war with the Salik nation is over. They are, in fact, cooperating in being rounded up, from everything I’ve been told.”
“Yes . . . about that. You are still the War Prince for a few days more,” Hana’ka told her son. “But I will release you from your service to the military when you return home. You will return home as swiftly and safely as is reasonable.”
“That is the plan, yes,” he confirmed when she paused long enough for her words to reach him. “At the moment, the V’Goro is assisting the fleet in rounding up stray Salik ships. The Solaricans have agreed to take up the highest-ranked Salik officers as their prisoners, to separate and incarcerate them so that they will not be able to organize any rebellions. Because of this generosity, we do not need to linger and plan to leave in just a few days.”
She nodded after nine seconds, listening to his words. “We shall make sure the Solaricans have our best assistance. Regarding the . . . your partner. Is there anything you can tell me about her declaration in the trail of the fina
l moment of surrender?”
It was a delicate question, with a lot of subtext. Li’eth knew what his mother—his Empress—was fishing for. “I’ve had reassurances that Meioa McKenzie’s government plans to appoint her as a cultural liaison to our people. Preferably, they would like me to be appointed to a similar post to their people, and then the two governments would employ us jointly to work on the integration of the Terrans into the known galaxy. They would like the two of us to focus on establishing settlements and enclaves on other worlds, and assisting them in building up a suitable fleet to join the rest of our forces on the coming blockade of Salik worlds.”
“Yes, that would be ideal. You have a deft level of skill in bridging the gaps in cultural understandings. I will confirm your appointment as a nonmilitary cultural liaison once you return home,” Hana’ka stated. “Speaking of which . . . it would be easiest if the V’Goro J’sta could detour to Earth to pick up Her Highness and her family.
“While you are there,” the Empress continued before he could question the detour, “you will also need to pick up the extended family of your holy partner. I have extended them an invitation to come to the Summer Palace for a couple months. The Governor of Ohsee Anneeya has approved his leftenant’s vacation for that length of time. And when you get here . . . you will both be given an heroic welcome home. You both do deserve it, for fulfilling the ancient prophecies and bringing peace back to the Empire and the Alliance.
“Of course, there should be another set of ceremonies taking place, too, shortly after your arrival. It may be a bit quick for any other situation, but as the two of you have been together for about a year, and are confirmed holy partners . . . I was thinking it would be appropriate for the two of you to be formally betrothed, then married, in those two months while her family is visiting the Empire,” she added lightly, and paused with a pointed look to let him react to her assertion.