James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 03

by Bodicea

  “Now, imagine a whole world, where everyone was raised with all the influence coming from only one direction.” He shook his head direly. “A world out of balance, I am curious to see such a thing, but I would not want to live there.”

  Alkema digested this thoughtfully, and could only say, “At least it’s a pretty planet.” Keeler turned around to face the geographical display behind him. Far, far below the ship, the sun was gleaming over the middle sea that separated Bodicéa’s two great landmasses. In the distance, just passing behind the curve of the planet into night, the small inner moon of the system made a pale crescent against the stars.

  The Isle of Mab appeared on the horizon, a sand and stone outbreak from the ocean floor, its shape recalling nothing so much as a frightened cat with an arched back, like Night of the Living Dead decorations children made on Sapphire. Its margins were traced in golden sand, diminishing into the warm waters of a yellow-green sea that glistened like polished jade.

  The sun was just beginning to swell and settle when Zilla made final approach to the sea-island, crossing a shoreline where aquamarine waves broke on iridescent rocks. Another Aves was parked on the ground already, resting on an expanse of grass that might have been an athletic field. Flight Lieutenant Toto maneuvered his ship to a point near and above, swinging it around to fit the two ships tightly together in the limited space. The four landing skids deployed, emerging smoothly and silently from the ship’s under-belly as Zilla settled onto the ground with but a whisper and a sigh as its gravity engine eased off.

  Keeler studied a cabin display of the island. There were twenty or so largish buildings, built of an enamel-like stone, yellowish, square at the foundation with rounded and domed roofs of clear glass, open to the sky. The tallest was near the harbor, and might have served as a Lighthouse. Between the buildings, paved walkways wandered through manicured gardens and led to a large collection of smaller structures that might have been dwellings. The architecture, the plant-life, and the color of the sky were all off, but otherwise, it faintly recalled any of the resort islands in the Archeopoli region of Sapphire, where people went for more sedate entertainments and quieter surroundings than the notoriously festive beaches of Kandor or the Awkward Islands.

  “They’re coming,” said Alkema. “Shall I open the hatch?” Keeler crossed the cabin, making the final adjustments to his cape. “Za, let’s get this over with. Frankly, I’ll be happy to leave the jawboning to Lear. I have to get back that moon.” Two exploration teams were picking through the crew’s quarters by this time, while engineers made plans for removing the spaceship they had found. He walked passed the hatch and called up into the Command Module. “Nice landing, Mr. Toto. Would you like to join us?” He was answered by a rhythmic snoring. “I guess not. Mr. Alkema, the hatch.” The hatch opened, sliding four ways into the top, bottom, and sides of the craft. Standing outside were Goneril Lear and her family, who had come down in the other ship, and another woman in an OP uniform whom he did not recognize. Around them stood a dozen or so middle-aged women in gray and green sarongs. They looked to Keeler like a particularly militant branch of the New Cleveland Garden and Bridge Society.

  Lear spoke. “First Advocate, advocates of the Inner Circle, I present our ship’s Commanding Officer, Commander William Keeler of the planet Sapphire.” This was the point where polite applause should have broken out. Instead, there came a brief smattering of handtaps that awkwardly diminished to silence almost immediately. Keeler saw that it had mainly been from John Rebbeck, Lear’s husband, and the other officer from his ship. John was about Keeler’s age, but looked older. His dark hair was going rapidly to silver around his temples, and his carriage was heavier. Keeler secretly liked John Rebbeck, among other reasons because he knew the man would be much happier studying the local plant-life than standing around being a diplomatic prop for his wife. The two Lear kinder were also in attendance, the older, blonder one who looked like his mother and, Keeler suspected, was kind of a brat, and the younger, darker one who took after his father and, Keeler supposed, was a pretty good kid.

  Keeler stepped forward onto the ramp landing. Lear and one of the women moved forward to meet him. The sun was setting into the sea, and its light had grown heavier, washing the scene in a kind of warm olive color. Dust suspended in the still air. It had been a hot day, Keeler guessed, but a continuous cooling breeze from the sea brought relief as evening wore on.

  “Commander, this is Ciel, the First Advocate of the Inner Circle of Bodicéa.” She said

  “Bodicéa” with a certain gusto, which Keeler supposed was meant to be ingratiating.

  “Hello,” Keeler said calmly, using an anachronistic form of greeting. “It’s a pleasure to be here, and to make your acquaintance, First Advocate Ciel. This is my adjutant, Lieutenant David Alkema.”

  “Specialist, sir.”

  Keeler sighed. “My patience with making that mistake is exhausted. I hereby grant you a field promotion to Lieutenant. Congratulations, you can pick up your new jewelry back on the ship.”

  As usual, no one was quite sure whether the commander had meant it or not. “Thank you, commander, uh, which core would that commission be under?” Alkema asked.

  “Uh, pick one.”

  “Tactical.”

  “Done, you are now Tactical Lieutenant David Alkema. Now, bring me a drink.”

  “Uh, Commander, wasn’t there something else … ?”

  “Ah, za,” Keeler gestured for his pack, which Alkema handed to him. He reached in and produced two books, one bound in blue and one in gray. He presented the blue one first to Ciel. “The Sapphirean Writ of Common Wisdom, a compendium of all the knowledge of my planet, along with three hundred examples of our finest literature, drama, and Music. May I recommend Trainman Brightspark’s take on Cayenne Jazz, Lifetime Number 5. ” He passed the book to Ciel. “We have more copies for each of you. And this, this is the Encyclopedia Republica, which contains far more than anyone would ever need or want to know about the planet Republic.”

  “Thank you,” Ciel said, looking over the two small bound volumes a little doubtfully. These had been prepared in advance of the Odyssey Mission, but this was the first time it had been deemed appropriate to give them to the leadership of the planet.

  “There are twenty more on the ship,” Keeler told her, gesturing back toward the Aves.

  “Feel free to ask Tactical Lieutenant Alkema to schlep them out.” Ciel awkward leaned toward the commander. They hugged like a pair of very young and awkward children being forced to make up at a family reunion. “Executive Commander Lear is fortunate to have such a capable man as I’m sure you are in command of this vital mission.”

  “That’s what I keep telling her.”

  Ciel drew back and ushered some people forward. “May I present my daughter, Pieta, and my consort, Tobias.”

  The man behind was slight, but smooth and handsome of face in a disquietingly feminine way and Keeler would eat his boots if he was more than half the age of Ciel. Some of the other women were regarding this man scornfully. He was the only Bodicéan male present. He stared hard at the visitors, as though trying to figure them out. He held the hand of a girl, lean, with bright eyes, a reflection of his own face, and long dark hair that came from neither mother nor father. She was staring fixedly at David Alkema.

  “My daughter and consort were recreating here when your ship arrived,” Ciel added, sounding apologetic. “The Isle of Mab is used as a retreat for members of the Inner and Outer Circles, and our families and guests. We agreed it would be a very secure place to receive your people.”

  “This island is absolutely beautiful,” Lear said in an almost gushing tone of voice. A warm breeze, sweetly scented like butter and oranges, rustled through the palm and fruit trees that lined the walkway.

  “It is sufficient,” Ciel said agreeably.

  “Only the ruling class?” Keeler asked. “Commander Lear’s report said your society was profoundly egalitarian.”


  “It is, and there are many other islands that are open to the general citizenry. Many of them are quite as pleasant as Mab. However, being an advocate is so very demanding. At any other island we would constantly surrounded by people petitioning us to … to increase the water supply to this province, to open up so much land for agricultural production, to lower the production quota for such and such a vegetable. We need places where we can be away from our duties.”

  “I am sure my commander appreciates the burdens of leadership,” Lear said gently.

  Another woman added. “And eighty-three per cent of our planet is designated as wilderness. We leave nature untouched as much as possible.”

  “I am curious about one other thing,” Keeler continued. “When you intercepted our signal, the entire planet heard it. Your government denounced it as a hoax. If, in the end, you do announce our arrival, isn’t the public going to be perturbed at your initial deception.” Ciel turned to Lear. “Your commander underestimates the Bodicéan people. They understand that their leadership always acts in their best interest, and then when a deception occurs, it is only for the public good. We had no idea whether you were a threat or a hoax or something …” she gestured vaguely, and turned a little more back toward Keeler. “The people will understand that the leadership did not wish to cause alarm, or panic, and they will appreciate that we took it upon ourselves to evaluate the risk. Goneril tells me the people of her planet would understand.”

  Another advocate picked up Ciel’s line. “Open contact, if it comes, is still a long time away.

  We would have to very carefully plan how to introduce you to the Citizenry, and very carefully control the release of information about you people. Some of our citizens might be upset by your arrival. They might be emotionally upset enough to do harm to themselves, or to others.”

  Ciel gestured toward the pathway. “We can discuss those details some other time. Now, we have prepared an evening meal that we hope will be to your liking. Come this way.” She turned and began walking down a stone-paved pathway. Garden-Parks on Sapphire and Republic had similar footpaths, albeit with a higher quality of workmanship.

  The path took them toward the center of the island. They passed under some stately columns and into a large, tiled courtyard. Large tables had been set up under a galaxy of tiny white lights, aglow against the coming night. The tables were laden with plates and bowls of food, native fruit, things that looked like olives, a variety of multi-colored breads in different twisted shapes, and great lots of plates of what looked like cubes of leaves and grain. Large graceful jars with handles were arrayed at the end of each table, containing wine or fruit juice or water, Keeler guessed, or perhaps something even more exotic.

  “This meal features a crop or delicacy from every province,” Ciel announced. Keeler still had the uncomfortable feeling she was directing her voice much to Goneril Lear than to him.

  “Our planet is divided into ten provinces, with a member of the Inner Circle from each province, and two at large, including myself.”

  Bridget Armatrading leaned over to Keeler and whispered harshly. “They respect moderation in eating and drinking. Try not to take too much. It will reflect badly on us.” Keeler gave her a withering ‘Who the perdition are you and why should I care?’ look, but she had already turned away from him. He sighed and took a handful of something that looked like earth-toned jellybeans.

  Ciel took a seat at the head of the table as the others arranged themselves nearby. “Come, Pieta, Join your mother,” Ciel called.

  “No!” the girl insisted petulantly. “I want to sit next to Tactical Lieutenant Alkema.” This provoked some mild amusement from the Bodicéans and a flush of embarrassment in the cheeks of the young officer.

  “Dear, I’m sure Alkema would rather sit with his own friends.”

  “Perhaps Pieta would like to sit with my son, Trajan,” Ciel suggested. “Marcus, dear, would you move down and make room for Pieta?”

  Both the little girl and Trajan put on expressions of complete disgust. It was less noticeable on Trajan, who had not wanted to be here in the first place and had looked faintly disgusted for most of the evening.

  “I don’t mind,” Alkema put in. He was thinking of his little sister back on Sapphire, and what an absolute harridan she could be when she didn’t get her way. He saw some of that in the young girl before him, and he knew she would be a constant distraction from Ciel’s conversations with Lear and Keeler.

  “Way to take one for the team,” Keeler muttered, unable not to grin.

  Alkema reached out and took the little girl’s hand. “Hello, Pieta.”

  “Hello, Tactical Lieutenant Alkema.”

  “Call me, David.” Her eyes lit up like the first evening star. “How old are you, Pieta?”

  “I’m five.”

  “You seem very … mature for five.”

  “This planet takes twice as long to go around the sun as yours,” Armatrading reminded him, loud enough for everyone to hear. “She’s more like ten.”

  “You still seem very grown up,” Alkema assured her. “Maybe you can tell me what each of these foods is called.”

  At the head of the table, Keeler sat next to Lear, who sat next to Ciel. De la Tesse, Solay, and Livia, a large, hearty woman with unruly curls of black hair framing a round, bespectacled face, sat opposite them. Solay drank only water, and had only an olive paste and one variety of bread on her plate, which she touched little during the meal.

  “This food is excellent,” Lear told Ciel. “I think this may be the first time we’ve actually been able to sample the cuisine of another world.”

  “It is sufficient,” Ciel replied. “The shallot compote is a special favorite of mine.” Commander Keeler found the meal rather too bland for his liking, but the drinks were almost enjoyable. He said little, but took in the conversational exchanges between Ciel and Lear, who were obviously kindred spirits. When he thought the time was right, he made a request of Ciel.

  “First Advocate, my crew has been in space for a very long time. Usually, when we come to a habitable planet, we like offer them shore leave.”

  Conversation around the table ceased. Keeler saw the consort, Tobias, nearly drop the two-pronged eating utensils he was holding.

  Ciel frowned, “More people coming to our world, I don’t know …”

  “Absolutely not,” Solay corrected her, almost snarling. She fixed Keeler with a dead-eye look. “I didn’t even want you to come here.”

  “You were out-voted!” Livia interrupted, gesturing dangerously with her wineglass. “You know, I fear our new friends are forming entirely the wrong impression of us. You should know, the women of Bodicéa are warm and friendly, and we love visitors. We would love to share the beauty of our planet with the women… and men… of your ship.”

  “It’s just that …” Ciel interrupted.

  Livia leaned across the table conspiratorially. “Ciel and Solay vie for leadership of the Circle, I have no such ambitions, and as such, I, Livia, am free to speak my mind.” Ciel took a deep breath, but seemed to rise to the occasion. “All right, then, perhaps fifty, here and at Fond Glacine, … of course.”

  “Fifty, out of a crew of more than 7,000?” Livia called out. “Why not just send them a box of sand?”

  Ciel sighed. “All right, I will put a proposal before the council for one hundred, at each location, and we shall debate the issue tomorrow.”

  Lear thrilled to this exchange, but tried to keep it from showing on her face; another little insight into the inner workings of the Inner Circle. Was Ciel simply weak and indecisive, or did this Livia have more influence than was apparent? Perhaps, the forces for open relations were stronger than anyone had let on.

  “Hey, hey,” Livia winked at Keeler. “You owe me a boon, …” There was a pause, then a word Lingotron translated as “Babycakes.” Keeler felt a bare foot nudge his ankle beneath the table.

  Ciel leaned over to Lear. “I was wondering if you would con
sider a proposition.” An eyebrow rose, almost involuntarily, as Lear answered. “A proposition?”

  “The establishment of contact between our people might be a very long process, requiring permanent diplomatic representation. Would you consider a permanent diplomatic post on Bodicéa ?”

  Caught by surprise, Lear almost stammered. “Why, Ciel, that would be such a great,…

  great… honor.”

  “I feel I have a very sufficient rapport with you,” Ciel whispered. “It would be very agreeable to have you as the Diplomatic representative in Concordia. The Circle would find you a comfortable home.”

  A home? Then, Ciel must imagine that this arrangement would remain in place after Pegasus had left orbit. It would be decades before a Phase II ship would call.

  “You look doubtful,” Ciel said, sympathetically.

  “I apologize,” Lear answered, briskly. “I was only thinking of my family.”

  “Would they have to stay with you?” Ciel asked.

  “It is our custom for families to live together.”

  Ciel nodded in understanding. “Normally, our custom would be to separate your sons from you, although I could arrange for a dispensation for you to keep them with you. Of course, there would have to be compromises to protect the women of my planet.”

  “Compromises?”

  Ciel waved her down. “As I said, this is all premature speculation. A long, long period of discussion and understanding lies ahead.”

  As the meal progressed, the night came on, and the stars came out, it was easy to forget they were on a distant planet. The night sky became as dark as velvet and the stars glittered warmly. Nightbirds chirrupped in the trees and the local wines lulled senses into a warm sense of self-satisfaction.

  While politics and intrigues held sway the head of the table, David heard from Pieta all about her family history and how her mother lived alone with Tobias instead of in a commune and how they always went to the Isla of Mab for their holidays. From her tone it was clear that this was a distinct privilege and he should be impressed. He also learned of her favorite forms of clothing, food, and entertainment, and that she intended to become a physician before being elected to the Circle.