The Terrans

by Jean Johnson

  She chuckled and shook her head, which had its own cap applied over her loosened hair. The sound was somewhat relieving to Li’eth, to know she could be happy instead of stressed, but not quite enough to alleviate his anxiety.

  “You don’t need the cap or the armbands to detect KI activity, period. The machines can be aimed in a direction and just . . . pick up general psychic activity. It’s one of the many security measures you don’t see going on behind the scenes in any major government office. When I was a Councilor, they pretty much had to shut mine off, send in adjustment techs, and aim them around my office to keep my own abilities from triggering the things—my telepathy was constantly aiding my linguistic capabilities in the course of my duties, which meant they were constantly setting off the monitors. Oceania is the one representational district on Earth with the most languages spoken, period. Africa as a continent has more languages overall, but it has many Council provinces dividing them up into considerably smaller units, linguistically.”

  “Jackie . . . you said we could communicate telepathically? To feel calmer?” Li’eth asked. The door to his infirmary room slid open, and Master Sonam stepped inside. He smiled warmly at the prince, happy and tranquil as ever.

  On the screen, Jackie nodded. “I’ll be reaching out to you shortly, but I wanted to wait until the anesthetic is out of your system. I woke sooner than you—I wasn’t drugged, just suffering from the backlash of your brain reaching out to my brain, and then feeling the backlash when yours was shut down very quickly. You, ah, will forgive them for their precaution, yes?”

  “You must accept my own apologies,” Sonam added, approaching the bed. He had to do so on the side with the KI machine since the gunner was more or less occupying Li’eth’s left. “I was not there to calm you down and reassure you that what you were feeling was not actually what you were feeling. I should have been there.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not what I was feeling?” Li’eth asked, wary.

  “He means it’s a combination of what both of us were feeling,” Jackie interjected. “I was getting agitated—I’ll tell you later—and that made you agitated, which fed back to me, and I sort of shoved it back onto you.”

  “It wasn’t just you,” Li’eth told her. “I was having bad dreams about . . . about our time on the Salik ship, waiting to be eaten alive. I think that may have leaked to you, despite the distance.”

  “It very well could have been part of the cause,” she allowed. “Anyway, that’s when you were tranquilized, with a fast-acting anesthetic to ensure you couldn’t trigger any of your gifts. You’re still relatively undertrained, and on the tight confines of a spaceship, pyrokinesis is not something to take lightly. The military have their orders: All pyrokinetics serving on board Space Force vessels know that they can be tranquilized at any time if it looks like that gift is going to trigger. Other psis with potential ship-damaging abilities also know that they can be tranked.

  “In fact, a few pyrokinetics have been known to shoot themselves, after warning the others,” she added, tipping her head. “Same with metrokinetics, because they can mess with the atmosphere, and the same with electrokinetics, because they can mess with the equipment keeping everyone alive. Telekinetics, sometimes we’re under watch, but not as closely as the pyros. Usually, though, psychics with those abilities aren’t allowed on board any ship until they can demonstrate a high level of self-control, but we all know things can happen. Things can just . . . get out of control, even with the best of intentions,” she reassured him. “You aren’t being blamed for a perfectly normal reaction to a very stressful situation. Which will be remedied, I promise.”

  He believed her. He could even almost feel her, just looking at her. Li’eth realized in that moment that he had slowly lost his trust in everyone around him over the last few days, thanks to her absence and the distance separating them. “Telepathic contact will . . . Will it cure this anxiety-attack thing?”

  Both she and Sonam nodded. The monk spoke. “I hope you will forgive me, but this is literally the farthest apart we have parted a Gestalt pairing in twenty-three years, so I should like to continue to monitor the two of you with similar machines as time goes along. You won’t have to wear them when we’re in transit, of course, but I will be seated at your side to ‘boop’ you to get your attention refocused.”

  Li’eth held up a finger in warning. “There will be no nose-booping when we return to V’Dan.”

  “I’m sorry, but there may still be some nose-booping, for both of us,” Jackie countered. “Though Master Sonam will not be going along.”

  “Riding along at insystem speeds is as fast as I care to go. I’m not sure that hyperspace is safe for someone as old as I am,” the monk added, sighing. “I am told it forces the body to live a little too fast. I have lived a little too long for that. Nothing I do anymore is fast. Except think.”

  V’kol chuckled. “If we can get you passage from Earth to V’Dan on one of our nice, safe, faster-than-light ships, then you should come to V’Dan anyway. Nobody ages too fast on one of those, no hunger or nausea or disrupted biology . . . and I think you would get along with my great-uncle just fine. You remind me of him.”

  “Which one, Jo’kol, or that funny fellow, Do-gri?” Sonam asked.

  V’kol grinned. “Do-gri, of course, though he is a bit funnier than you . . .”

  (Reach for me, Li’eth,) Jackie called out to him, distracting him from the byplay of the other two males. On the screen, she was still smiling, but she was lying in her propped-up bed with her eyes closed. Trancing to reach him over the gulf of physical distance between them.

  Closing his own eyes, Li’eth reached for her. The noises of Sonam and V’kol chatting and chuckling faded. He opened his inner eyes onto the dark, vast chamber lit by that sourceless light from above, the first place they had met mind to mind . . . and stepped straight into her arms. Pulling her against him, Li’eth wrapped his arms around her clearly adult body. Not in some sexual embrace—though he was glad she felt adult to him—but in a purely relieved hug.

  (I don’t like being apart from you. I feel like I can’t trust anyone when you’re not nearby, reassuring me on everyone’s motivations and meanings . . . but I fear for what that means when we head to V’Dan.)

  (It means you’re in highly unfamiliar territory, which spikes your adrenal instincts, which aggravate your Gestalt-parted anxiety levels,) Jackie soothed him. (It’s simple biochemistry working against you. I’m considerably more calm about the people and things around me because they are familiar. I am in my own territory. When I get to V’Dan, I’m probably going to have an equally hard time trusting everyone around me if we’re not in frequent contact, reassuring each other. I may also be calmer about it because I am more aware of what’s going on because of my many years of training and experience . . . but I’ll still feel the stress. It’s not a case of me influencing you, nor will it be a case of you influencing me. We’re both too strong-willed for that. Too dedicated to each of our peoples.)

  (I don’t know when we’ll be going, but . . . I am anxious to get home. Every day we delay here is another day the Salik could be attacking a system in force, whittling down its defenses. Landing troops on our colonyworlds, and those of our Alliance neighbors.)

  (Oh!) She pulled back a little in their head-space hug. (Tangira—the Premiere’s aide, one of them—she came in just before I collapsed, said they found a known Gatsugi system.)

  Li’eth was so startled by this, he pulled out of their link almost all the way. “Ba’oul! Is that why he’s missing?”

  V’kol and Sonam broke off their conversation to blink at him. The monk leaned in with a kindly look, and said, “We’re not a part of that conversation, whatever it is. You’ll have to use a few more words to clarify what you mean, young man.”

  “The star charts—the Gatsugi system,” he added, turning to V’kol. “They found one?”

  “Yes. They found the star system with what looks like the domewor
ld mining colony of Paper-Skies-Heavy-With-Lead,” his third officer . . . technically second officer, with Shi’ol suspended . . . relayed. “Ba’oul has been busy helping plot and correct courses from there through known territory to the Empire for the last two hours, trying to triangulate. If they hit two, maybe three more in the chain that they can recognize, then they’ll be able to coordinate that with the star maps we tried to delineate. That’s why I’m in charge of you. Ba’oul’s a bit more important than you to these people. Right now, at least.”

  “I am happy he is a bit more important than me right now. I’d thank Shi’ol if she could find our way home,” Li’eth muttered

  “Just so long as you don’t kiss her in thanks,” Jackie ordered over the commlink, reminding them it was still open. “Now get back in my head. We need at least ten minutes, maybe twenty, to calm our link. Sonam, you’ll watch the monitors on that end? You’ll know when it’s safe to come knocking on our mental walls.”

  “I shall stick to a nose-boop, once the biofeedback numbers look close enough to normal. You’re both still very stressed, so the more time you spend in the link, the better. I suspect I should take advantage of this opportunity as much as I can right now, before I lose all such privileges when His Highness returns to his people. Even if I do get to go visit them some day before my death, I suspect I won’t be able to boop his nose with impunity once he goes back to his home,” Sonam added. “That, and my range isn’t quite what it used to be. Jupiter to Earth right now is a bit out of my reach, so I cannot telekinetically boop yours, young lady.”

  With his paranoia soothed, Li’eth didn’t like the thought of losing the elderly male. “I’ll send a ship, specifically to pick you up and bring you to the Imperial Palace. If one can be spared. I don’t know how much damage they’re taking nor how much time is left.”

  “We’ll talk about it when the time comes. I’ll be with you for most of the tour, after all,” Sonam reminded him, patting the prince on his blanket-covered leg. “Go back to mentally hugging your partner.”

  “How did you . . . ?” Li’eth asked, blushing. At his other side, V’kol raised his blond-and-pink brows but carefully did not say a word.

  “The two of you make Gestalt pair number nineteen for me,” Sonam said, patting his leg again. “I counted them up, to be sure. I am experienced in watching over younglings like you. Eventually, it will get easier for you.”

  Li’eth relaxed, accepting that this wasn’t a rare, odd anomaly for these people. Mostly accepting it. He did, however, have a question as soon as he reached out to meet Jackie’s mind. ( . . . Your government has plans to tranquilize people?)

  (We try to be honorable and ethical in our actions in this day and age. We have far too many examples of dishonesty, corruption, and worse in our history,) she replied, even as she looped her arms around his shoulder in that odd, blank, warehouse-like space. (But being honorable and ethical is not the same thing as naïve. No one is above the law . . . but we are well aware that there are plenty of those who still try to break it.)

  (Duly noted. Is there any place we can go in our minds that doesn’t look like this?) he asked next, sweeping his hand at the concrete floor and vast darkness beyond.

  She smiled and “booped” his nose by rubbing it with her flatter one. (Anywhere you like. Let me show you what a good surfing beach looks like.) She turned her head, and suddenly they were standing on a wooden platform shaded by an open-walled structure with lashed-together fronds for its roof, thick bundles of pale, narrow leaves yellowed by their time in the sun. A wind blew steadily from off to one side, and the sun gleamed off the pale beige sand. (A lot of the best surfing is in winter, and it’s getting toward the tail end of the season, but with me along, we could ride a wave out there.)

  Li’eth looked where she nodded, at the blue-green-white curling waves rushing slowly, steadily toward shore. They looked to be taller than him, if he was judging the distances right. (You ride that? The waves?)

  (These are just little ones, good for beginners. And yes, I ride them. I will show you surfing. Hawai’ians invented the sport hundreds of years ago, if not longer. You don’t have that on V’Dan?)

  (We have three moons. They’re small compared to your Luna, but the tides are rather complicated because of it,) he told her.

  (I look forward to finding out—yes, I am aware that surfing is dangerous,) she added, catching his thought packet. (I’ve been knocked off a board more than once. My telekinesis is trained to wrap around me in a bubble,) Jackie reassured him. (If I lose my board, if I lose my orientation—even in zero-gravity training in the military, anyplace I lose my focus—my bubble pops up. Sometimes full of water, but it gives me a chance to orient myself, find the tug of gravity, and go up.) She smiled and held him in the cool shade, heat radiating into their shelter from the sand outside. It was a very good illusion. (You’ll see. It’s in the schedule, a day at the beach. With sunscreen crème, surfboards, and cordoned-off privacy.

  (Ah, relative privacy, that is. There will be guards everywhere. Mostly to keep the V’Dan groupies away, though. They still give me a bit of trouble at airports, but I’ve been calling ahead to Security to get me through quickly. It’ll be even smoother for you,) she reassured him.

  (Good. Thank you in advance for the sunscreen. Jungen burns just like the rest of our skin, but with burgundy and other reddish colors, it’s sometimes hard to tell. And good, about the guards,) he allowed. (I’m not sure what sort of tour our people will put together for yours, but there will be honor guards.)

  (Good.)

  (Where is this place located?) he asked her, lifting his chin at their surroundings. (It is a real place, right?)

  (We’re just down the beach from a place called Diamond Head. It’s an old volcano cone which shelters the south end of O’ahu, just right for producing little waves about the height of a Human. My grandmother lives a few blocks away.)

  (Will you still be the Ambassador? Or . . . ?)

  She sobered a little; the sensations of sun and wind faded correspondingly. (I don’t know. The Premiere says there are too many variables that could adversely—or positively—affect Earth and its colonies . . . such as they are, so far. He’s going to open it up to the Council to discuss.)

  That made him wrinkle his nose. (Rule by committee? Making complex decisions by committee? That’s a recipe for . . . what’s that term you Terrans use . . . bureaucratic red tape swamp-bog stuff. Disaster by slow, stifled death. Robert used a phrase the other day . . . “Nibbled to death by ducks.” I think it applies. It is not exactly an image to inspire confidence in your government system.)

  (We have rules to speed up the process,) she promised him. (Now, let me introduce you to the pleasure of lounging side by side with me in a tropical hammock. Even if it’s only in our minds.)

  He followed her into the envisioned sunlight and down the beach a little ways, toward an object strung between two of the odd, tuft-topped, scale-barked trees shading the shoreline. (That, we have. We definitely have two-person hammocks.)

  MARCH 8, 2287 C.E.

  TERRAN LAGRANGE 3 ASTRONOMICAL ARRAY AND HYDROREFUELING STATION

  Jackie touched the interactive map on the main console. Not to adjust the view, since there were only two views being conjoined on the holographic pane above it—one from the Aloha 31 and one from the hyperrelay it had dropped off ten light-minutes away to get sufficient parallax on the system they were observing—but instead to adjust the volume on the data streaming through the system at lightspeed.

  The video feed was still causing them problems. Teams of computer-language specialists were racing to crack the code for that. A monetary prize had been posted by the pooled resources of seven different communications corporations for the group that could do it first, and the group that could do it best. At stake was not just the ability to communicate essentially face-to-face with the V’Dan, but for the corporations to have whole new worlds, literally, of potential viewers for entertainment and
advertising programs. Jackie didn’t envy the Advisors who had to deal with that proposal, ensuring everything stayed clean and aboveboard. Or any Advisors faced with Terran businesses clamoring to get their hands on a piece of the V’Dan pie. Even if they didn’t know what they were waiting for, nor what the V’Dan might already have and thus not need.

  The audio feed was mostly cracked. A small prize had already gone out to a team of audio engineers working in southern Africa—and by small, only in comparison to the full feed being successfully decoded. Each of the nine-member group that had given them the baseline translation program for digital audio streaming had become multimillionaires under the United Planets Credit system. It wasn’t a perfect match, but while there were bits of static interrupting now and then, the audio feed was discernible.

  If one spoke V’Dan, it was even intelligible. She had arrived two days early, and aside from her time spent contacting Li’eth to keep both of them relatively calm, she had spent a good portion of her time teaching V’Dan to several key personnel. The Astronomical Array had the databanks to process all the visual information coming in from the Aloha searches, but anything text-based plus the audio needed a linguist’s touch.

  With the 31 finally parked in what they thought just might be the V’Dan home system, they needed someone who understood V’Dan. The other eight souls she had transferred were still trying to settle into the language. She had been living it for a few months, which meant being in this room, monitoring the incoming data.

  “Well?” Commodore Mokope asked, dark hands resting on his blue-clad hips. As the commander of the station and overseer of all military missions that docked with it, he was technically now her immediate superior, Space Force–wise. “Can you understand them, Major?”

  “Of course I can understand them,” she murmured.

  “And?” he asked, gesturing at her to continue.

  “. . . And they’re talking about mining operations. Or at least, that’s the only chatter within the last few hours at lightspeed. Not exactly the most awe-inspiring stuff,” she replied, gesturing at the table console, which had a flat map sketch of what the system should look like, courtesy of Ba’oul. The Aloha 31 and its hyperrelay probe were tucked behind the second asteroid field not far from the system’s edge, relatively speaking. “That’s not the sort of conversation that screams, ‘Congratulations on reaching the heart of the Empire, bootsie; welcome to the V’Dan system, the lu’au’s at seven.’”