by Jean Johnson
The blue-and-gold logo of the United Planets vanished from the left third of her screen, interrupting whatever reply the Admiral-General would have made. Premiere Callan appeared in its place, seeking her gaze through his screen’s pickups. “Ready, MacKenzie?”
“Ready when you are, sir.”
“We’ll have a fifteen-second interruption warning, then I will introduce you. In three . . . two . . . one . . .”
A flashing banner appeared along the bottom edge of her screen, along with an intermittent buzzing. It was not loud so much as it was annoying, designed to catch the attention of anyone with a speaker system. The flashing, scrolling banner read, Incoming Announcement from the Office of the Premiere of the Terran United Planets . . . Incoming Announcement from the Office of the Premiere of the Terran United Planets . . .
Jackie smiled to herself, seeing that. At some point, Premiere Callan had taken to heart her comment in one of her reporting sessions to differentiate which branch of Humans they were, by calling themselves Terrans. It wasn’t a formal designation, but it had been discussed and approved in the past, should such a need ever arise from, say, a colony on Mars choosing to break away from the rest of the United Planets. Everyone came from Earth, after all. From Terra, in the ancient Latin language that underpinned much of their sciences.
“Greetings, citizens,” Callan stated, smiling slightly for the camera delivering the broadcast. “This is not a full state of emergency, but I would not interrupt everyone if this were not a vital message all the same. We will go now live to the exploration starship Aloha 9, and to the first Ambassador of the Terran United Planets, Jacaranda MacKenzie, former Councilor of Oceania, and a trusted government servant. Please give your attention to her message as you would one of mine. Ambassador?”
A red dot appeared along the top edge of her screen, letting her know she was being broadcast. “Greetings. As the Premiere has said, I am Jackie MacKenzie, a Major in the Space Force, a former Councilor for Oceania Province, a member of the Psi League, and a duly appointed Ambassador for our people—I still recite the Oath of Civil Service each and every day, so you may rest assured that I am doing my best to represent all of you truthfully and fairly.
“With that said . . . just a few days ago while surveying the Gamma Draconis System, which is located 148 light-years from our system, our ship encountered a new hostile race of beings.” Checking her console, she tapped in a command. “These beings are not the Greys, with whom we are already familiar, and whom I have already faced down while serving in the military in the past.”
Callan, Kurtz, and Nayak all vanished from her screen; in their place, she saw herself on the left, and the images she wanted to display on the right, a montage of the Salik in their pressure suits, their faces half-hidden by the orange glow of their ship’s lighting systems, and their greenish-beige skins wrapped in beige versions of shipsuits.
“The race you see here is sentient, and hostile. They are called the Salik, and they are currently engaged in a war with several other intelligent races. As a Rank 15 telepath and a Rank 14 xenopath, I was included on board the Aloha 9 in its exploration mission in case we did contact anyone. From the knowledge I have picked up from the thoughts of the Salik race, their plans include interstellar conquest, and . . . well, to be blunt, they prefer to eat live prey. They particularly enjoy eating live sentient prey.
“During our encounter with them, my crew and I learned several things. On board their ship, they had five captives remaining from the captured crew of one of their enemy races. They had brought our ship on board in order to figure out its unfamiliar technology and to take captive its crew, with the intent to eat us alive as well. They had zero intentions of initiating any sort of peaceful contact.
“As soon as I discerned these things, I decided that the correct course of action would be to free and rescue the five captives and extract our ship from the Salik vessel. The exact details of those actions will remain classified for now, though they will, of course, be released to the historical archives in due time. Suffice to say, we were successful in our rescue and escape attempts, and have on board those five former captives. I have given my word of honor that those five beings are considered to be guests of the Terran United Planets, and that they will be treated well, until such time as we can return them to their home territory . . . as soon as we figure out where that is.
“As to who and what our guests are, this is where it gets a little strange,” Jackie continued honestly. “We do not yet know their origins, as we have been focused on exchanging languages and information on the much more important, immediate threat of the Salik race to both our peoples. We do not know how they came to exist as they currently do, nor why they should hail from a place that is not Earth. But we do know that our five guests are fellow Humans.”
She stared straight at the tiny dot that was the video pickup for her monitor, keeping her expression sober, honest, and hopefully trustworthy while she paused, letting everyone watching or listening absorb that revelation. When a handful of seconds had passed, Jackie continued.
“Our onboard medic, Dr. Maria de la Santoya, has confirmed that they match us genetically as a species to the point of approximately one-tenth of a percent of difference, which is the average genetic variance for our current population. So they are Human. However, they call themselves V’Dan, as a race, as a planet, and as a language. They also have access to and an understanding of different kinds of technology that we Terran Humans do not yet share. So it is important that we do welcome them as our honored guests, so that we can eventually exchange ideas, information, technology, and more between their people and ours.”
Another touch of the console shifted the images to head shots of Li’eth, Ba’oul, Shi’ol, V’kol, and Dai’a, along with Terranglo versions of their names, spelled phonetically.
Jackie resumed speaking. “Because they are fellow Humans who appear to have been separated from Earth’s humankind for several thousand years, we will be going straight into quarantine. Dr. de la Santoya, our mission medical specialist, has been monitoring and medicating both sides as best she can under our current conditions while our bodies adjust to each other’s microbiomes, the various viruses and bacteria, benign and malign, that inhabit everyone. Once we are in quarantine, she and the medical staff on board MacArthur Station will be gene-scanning all possible pathogens and developing vaccines for them, both for our guests to survive our own versions of the common cold, the flu, and so forth, and for their pathogens to have antigens developed for widespread distribution to all of our own people.
“It is for that reason Premiere Callan has agreed to allow this broadcast to interrupt so many of you, to reassure you that the United Planets government is not only safeguarding all of us from potential new enemies but ensuring that we are able to give warm welcomes to potential friends. We want to reassure you that we are taking every step we reasonably can to guarantee that we welcome them in good health on both sides of the equation. In the coming weeks, as microbiome data becomes widely available, please cooperate with your local health officials to ensure global and intersystem immunization can be achieved once the antigens are ready for distribution. Because these are all illnesses which are new to us, the protection of ‘herd immunization’ is even more important now than it ever has been.
“Once both our guests and ourselves have had our immune systems inoculated and balanced against each other, it will be my pleasure to introduce our long-lost cousins to you, both over the vid channels and eventually in person. Until then, we will be busy learning all we can about each other, about the Salik as a potential enemy of the Terran United Planets, and about the other, non-Salik, non-Human, and non-Grey races that also exist out there, aliens who are allies of our new guests. Your patience is therefore deeply appreciated, as is your cooperation with our medical efforts. We may seem to be moving slowly, but we are moving with caution and respect for both sides of this important First Contact moment.
“In the meantime, if you have any questions, you may direct them to the office of Admiral Daksha Nayak of the Space Force Branch Special Forces, whose staff will be fielding all communications while we are in quarantine,” she stated. “Thank you very much for your time, your attention, and your cooperation. I remain in service to my oaths, to the United Planets, and to you . . . and I apologize for the interruption in your various entertainments. May you all have a good day.”
A third tap of her console switched the view back to the three men, two from Europe and one from the Indian subcontinent. The buzzer re-sounded through the speakers, and the banner flashed, though its text had changed.
This has been a broadcast of the Office of the Premiere of the Terran United Planets. For more information, contact: Admiral Daksha Nayak, Space Force Branch, at . . .
Jackie ignored the rest of it. She had a different, more direct way to contact Admiral Nayak. Instead, she made sure the little red light was no longer on and eyed the central figure on her screen. “I hope that was an acceptable broadcast, Admiral-General?”
He frowned a little. “I’d rather you hadn’t mentioned bringing them down to Earth, nor returning them to their homeworld. That makes it sound as if you’ll be doing it soon.”
Callan beat her to answering that. Dark brows drawing down, he gave the head of the Space Force a chiding look. “Admiral-General, we are a civilized people. It is only right and proper that we do welcome them among us in friendship, then return them to their home within a reasonable amount of time.”
“We will learn far more from them through open, peaceful exchange than we ever could by holding them here in isolation, sir,” Jackie added. “By acting with honor, treating them well, asking for but not demanding any information they could give us, then doing our best to return them home safely—after giving them a reasonable tour of who and what we are, so that their people can question them about us—we will be showing our intentions are honorable and that we can be trusted when we give our word.”
“That is the cornerstone of the foundation of proper government, and of ongoing government reform,” Callan stated. “Honor, honesty, and integrity. Former Councilor MacKenzie lived and breathed it while in office, and she still lives and breathes it now. As a civil servant, she has my complete trust. As a military officer . . . she will know which things can be safely revealed to these guests, and which things must remain discreet for now.”
Jackie nodded in silent agreement on that assessment. Admiral-General Kurtz sighed. “I shall have to remind certain of my intelligence officers that they are not in ultimate charge, once they start bleating at me for ‘daring to allow’ all of this. How long will quarantine last?”
“We don’t know, but probably close to a month to be absolutely sure,” Jackie told him. “Maria says it’ll take a week or more to analyze, then synthesize the most important antigens in large enough batches to begin distribution, plus a couple weeks on top of that to ensure that everyone has had a chance to go through any symptomology resulting from inoculation—everyone planetside will have to endure various low-key sniffles and the sneezes,” she joked lightly, “as will everyone in quarantine, but then we’ll be free to bring our guests out of quarantine and show them everything. Within reason, of course.”
“Of course,” Kurtz agreed dryly, eyeing her through their commlink.
“If nothing else, Admiral-General—if the precognitive visions are to hold true—then we will be free in time for me to attend the Merrie Monarch Festival,” she added. “That starts right at the end of Easter, which this year will be on the first Sunday in April. We should be planetside before then, at the very least.”
“That reminds me of something,” Admiral Nayak said. “If you’ll excuse us, sir,” he added to the Admiral-General, “I can start coordinating with the Ambassador where we will be taking these people once they get out of quarantine. Not just the locations, but any cultural or religiously significant visits should be discussed and selected in advance as well.”
“We do have an opportunity to showcase the diversity of cultures and peoples of the United Planets, as well as climates and locations,” Jackie agreed.
Kurtz mulled it over for a moment, then nodded. He eyed Jackie wryly. “I suppose you’ll be honest about some of our ongoing problems as well as our triumphs?”
“Some of them. I won’t ignore or hide any that come to their notice on any tour, and I am prepared to explain what I can . . . but neither will I draw their attention to anything,” she stated dryly. “I—”
The cockpit door slid open, forcing her to break off what she was saying. Quickly holding up a finger, she turned to greet Li’eth. “Captain Ma’an-uq’en, is there something you needed?”
“I am amazed at how well you can manage the glottal stops of V’Dan, when your Terranglo does not have many,” he murmured, pulling his floating body up beside her seat. “I came to tell you that Shi’ol has finally agreed to the language transfer. I . . . would tell you exactly how she phrased it, but I see you are communicating with people. Greetings.”
“Is that their captain?” Kurtz asked, peering into his monitor.
Nodding, Jackie reached over and pulled gently on Li’eth’s arm, getting his head into range of the pickups for the monitor. “Captain Ma’an-uq’en, the gentleman on the far left is Premiere Augustus Callan, the head of our entire government. The gentleman in the center is Admiral-General Vilhelm Kurtz, head of our entire military, the Space Force, which consists of four distinct Branches of service. And the gentleman on the far right is Admiral Daksha Nayak of the Space Force Branch Navy, who is the officer directly in charge of all the Aloha missions.”
“This ship being the Aloha 9,” Li’eth murmured. She gave him a nod in confirmation, and he in turn dipped his head. “Greetings, meioas—ah, meioa is a term from the Solarican race; it means ‘Honored One’ and can be used on anyone. I do not know of any equivalent in your language, but it is a very widely accepted greeting of politeness and courtesy among the member races of the Alliance. We have not yet had a chance to study the proper greeting protocols of your people, so I hope you will not take offense.”
Premiere Callan smiled. “The newness of all of this is understood, Captain. You have been busy giving us more important tactical information about a potential enemy, so that we may prepare ourselves just in case they find us. Full courtesy can also wait when necessity cannot, such as your need to go into quarantine for about a month, but we will look forward to greeting you formally when everyone is ready. Ambassador, you will, of course, discuss the proper protocols while you all wait.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “Lessons in behavior and basic common laws will be part of the schedule that Admiral Nayak and I will arrange, for both during and after our time in quarantine. Captain, please tell the leftenant superior that I will be along in a little bit—let her know I am busy talking with the head of our government so that she knows there is a good reason behind my delay.”
“I will. Please excuse me, meioas. I will be happy to speak with each of you later in more depth and detail,” Li’eth stated before pushing himself back out of viewing range.
Jackie waited until he left, then sighed and shook her head. “They are very Human; some are more flawed than others. Thankfully, their captain has a good head on his shoulders. Premiere, Admiral-General, shall Admiral Nayak and I adjourn to a private channel now?”
Both nodded and signed out. Breathing deep, Jackie opened up a document file and prepared to start entering notes on what needed to be a priority in the first few days of their quarantine schedule, and notes on things that would need to be scheduled later on in the days and weeks ahead. Anything productive to put off touching that woman’s thoughts . . .
MACARTHUR STATION
Her comment about preferring someone who was willing to go through a telepathic language transfer came back to haunt her. Instead of three or so hours, it took closer to five. Shi’ol resisted at every step of the way,
refusing to share memories. Several times, Jackie had to break off and ask her did she want to sound like an untutored, illiterate child? The answer, of course, was no.
But for all Shi’ol consciously agreed she didn’t want that . . . every time she came up against a cultural facet in the language-and-context transfers that was patently not V’Dan, Shi’ol’s subconscious balked and resisted, and that dragged out the session. The nonpsychic blonde didn’t quite kick her out as Li’eth’s poorly trained mind had done, but she did resist . . . and since Shi’ol wasn’t a badly trained psi, there was nothing Jackie could do that was even the slightest bit ethical to take over and force the language on her.
By the time it ended, Jackie had a throbbing headache and a serious dislike for the green-spotted blonde. What she wanted to do was lock herself in a room as far, far away from Shi’ol Nanu’oc, Countess of Bla’a-blah, as possible and ignore everyone and everything while she meditated to wash away any possible residue of the woman’s overly annoying psyche. What she had to do was recite the formulaic words of, “. . . What was yours is still yours, Countess. That means I will not speak of anything personal without your permission, barring only extreme felonies—which you have not committed—so I will therefore try my best to forget all of it.”
“See that you do!” Shi’ol snapped. In Terranglo, without noticing it. She shoved away—grked when the straps of the restraint harness kept her from leaving immediately—and disentangled herself as fast as she could. Jackie helped telekinetically, more than eager to get the woman away from her. She refrained from pushing on the rosette-spotted woman, however, focusing only on releasing the buckles. At her current level of annoyance, shoving might result in broken bones . . . and a telekinetic of her strength must never damage anyone without just and due cause.