I was swept away by the outstanding clinic. Even so, I still watched how Clan Aslada interacted with others, particularly those who did the grunt (aka, most important) work of any healthcare facility: nurses, orderlies, and even those who took care of maintenance issues. It was clear the boys had funds to spare. That made how they dealt with those lower in the financial strata more important than ever to me. I was beyond delighted to see them treat all those people as equals. Meyso checked in with the nurses on how his patients were doing, asking opinions based on what they’d observed as much as dictating changes in therapy and medication. Aslada seemed to know his Imdiko’s every co-worker by name and asked questions that showed he took an interest in their lives. Jaon was quiet for the most part, as Nobeks tend to be, but I did hear him trade a couple of jokes with the men running cleaning machines. No sign of snobbery there.
So far, so good.
I was introduced to everyone and greeted warmly. Anrel had fallen fast asleep, as I’d known she would. I could tell the staff wanted to fuss over her in the worst way. They kept quiet however, not wishing to wake the sweetly sleeping baby.
“You’ll get your chance,” I chuckled at the mostly Imdiko audience. That breed cannot resist an infant. I saw their fingers twitching as they restrained the urge to pluck her from my arms and cuddle.
“That’s right,” Meyso told them. “This is not only our potential Matara and child, but also the family of the elderly Earther Matara we will be helping. So keep their faces in mind while you take care of Matara Eve.”
That caused a wave of excitement among the group. They were looking forward to treating their first Earther, and Mom’s case had them all vying to be assigned to her.
I thought about warning them about her temper and tendency to say with appalling bluntness exactly what was on her mind. I refrained, however. I was reminded of how indulgent the Kalquorians were of her on Earth. I’d given Meyso the whole story already anyway. He would know how to advise his staff.
We went into his office for a sit down. He went over once more what the surgeries would entail, using diagrams until my head swam. I was almost cross-eyed with confusion when I made him stop.
“Look, as long as you know what you’re doing, I think it’s best I don’t try to know what you’re doing,” I said. “One expert is enough, right?”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling at me in the most adorable way. “I will not fail your faith in me, Shalia. Your mother is in good hands.”
I felt good about his abilities. “When does this happen?”
“Four days,” Meyso said. “We’ll start the process of pulling her out of arrested stasis into surgical stasis. I’ll order a full physical to catch any issues with her heart, cardiovascular system, and other organs so we don’t have anything unforeseen pop up. We’ll also check for unknown allergies or any infections not noted before she was placed in stasis.” As my eyes started to glaze over again, he gave me another affectionate grin. “In short, we’ll ensure she’s in as perfect physical condition as possible before putting her through the surgery. All I need is your go-ahead.”
“You’ve got it.” I had decided the time to be wishy-washy about my mom’s future was over. I was committed to this. No looking back.
Anrel woke from her impromptu nap early, giving Meyso’s staff the opportunity to moon over her in truth. She was not as beaming-happy as she is when she gets all of her rest, but she smiled and let herself be adored.
Next, we were off to Aslada’s office. He had taken the day off, but we were on tour. I was curious to know about this potential clan, and again, I knew the best way to gauge them was by how their subordinates treated and were treated by them. It was the same as with Meyso’s gang: unfailing courtesy when outright friendliness wasn’t in play.
With his staff, Aslada joked like they were all old friends. These men were mostly Dramoks, but they were as eager as Imdikos to dote on Anrel. Not as many were keen to hold her, but Dramoks and Nobeks tend to worry about how to handle a little baby. It’s hilarious to see powerful leader-types and fierce warriors shy away, afraid the slightest touch might harm her. Again, she was sweet and didn’t act up, but I could tell she hadn’t gotten enough nap time.
I met members of the territorial council as well, since all the offices are in the same hillside-building. The government facility is built into the side of a huge hill covered in emerald-green grass and wildflowers. It looks like something fairies or gnomes might congregate in from the outside. Inside, it’s as business-like and full of technology as any office building I’d expect.
Everyone was pleasant to me. A couple of council representatives, winking and grinning at Aslada, told me they had been recently picked up by the lottery. Aslada scowled at them, but good-humoredly. Jaon frowned and moved close to me. I had to fight not to laugh.
Even the men Aslada had mentioned by name as being fierce opponents to his causes were respectful to me. I guess they keep their differences to the council floor. Then again, who was going to mess with a woman who had Jaon at her side? For politicians, they were smart guys.
Aslada’s office was grand. It boasted fine furniture, richly woven rugs, stunning artwork, and awards littering the surfaces. “I think we have one of our settings for your vids,” I told him. “This is great for when you’re on-camera, discussing your policies and causes.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait to discuss the ideas I have with you.” At Meyso’s raised brow, he amended, “Once your mother is on the road to recovery, so I’m not adding to any stress you have to deal with.”
“I may need to work to escape my worries,” I said, touched at the concern they felt for me. “We’ll play it by ear and see how everything goes.”
It was Jaon who chuckled at that. “And that is how all life is lived, isn’t it? Despite all our planning, it comes down to dealing with what comes at us first.”
Amen, brother.
The tour was at an end. Thank goodness, because Anrel was starting to fuss. She was too fascinated with new surroundings to allow herself to sleep, and it made for a cranky baby. We headed for the home of Clan Aslada.
Clan Seot’s sea-rock home had been dramatic. Luxurious. Stunning. While this clan’s domicile didn’t have quite the exterior oomph, it was far bigger and grander on the inside. Grander as in OH DEAR FUCKING PROPHETS, THIS PLACE IS INSANE.
Like the government building, the men made their home within a hill. Or rather, a series of hills, because it was big. Mansion-big. Maybe palace-big. We’ll settle for the description of freaking-big, shall we?
Doors made to look like wood (but of some manufactured material instead) led into a couple of these hills. One was the main entrance, a stately faux-plank set of double doors painted the same green as the surrounding grass. Think castle doors to the emerald city of Oz. They were magnificent. The wide walkway leading from the nearby lake to the entrance was constructed of large, smooth rocks. If not for the enormous doors, it would have looked sweet and cozy. A garden plot of uncountable blooms greeted us after we landed in an attached bay, also sequestered in the hills. We could have accessed the home through an underground walkway from where the clan’s small fleet of craft sheltered, but the guys wanted me to enjoy the outside view first.
And what a view. The lake was a mirror of an aquamarine jewel under the clear sky. It had a beach and a few small brightly colored boats were pulled up on shore. I’ll admit I had visions of sitting in a boat holding a parasol over my head. Jaon would be pulling on the oars and Meyso would be reading poetry to Aslada and I as we drank wine. It had that feel to it.
All around, the hills rose and fell, an undulating carpet of the purest green, with little patches of wildflowers punctuating the landscape. A bit of exposed rock showed here and there, interesting footnotes. A few hills were crowned with great trees that reached thick branches to the perfect sky. It wasn’t quite as breathtaking as the view from Clan Seot’s seaside home, but it was darn close.
Then we we
nt in the big double doors. Holy crap.
The hill we entered was tall and made taller still by virtue of us descending a dozen steps into the entrance hall. Hall? More like a castle ballroom. It was insanely huge. I’ve seen houses smaller than that one area. Made up like a gallery, it boasted window-vids and fine art. The flooring was polished marble. The ceiling was arched and painted with murals, like a cathedral.
I’d felt out of my league with Clan Seot. I was a pure bumpkin in the home of Clan Aslada. All I could do was stand there and gape. Opulent didn’t begin to describe my surroundings.
Aslada chuckled. “It’s impressive but still less than you and Anrel deserve. However, we’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible.”
I swear I couldn’t move for several seconds. Mind blown.
Even now, I can’t describe the place. It’s too enormous to put into words. It really is a palace, each room grander than the last. Even the last few Imperial Clans haven’t lived like this. They have a place within the Royal House that is on par, I’ve been told, but they have eschewed that particular set of apartments for cozier digs. I can’t say I blame them. It’s overwhelming.
Anrel and I have adjoining suites, each the size of a generous house. I kid you not. A huge nursery for her with a connecting pair of rooms for her ‘manny’ (as I call her Imdiko nanny Snoy), two huge lavatories, a sitting room, a private meditation room, my sleeping room, a greeting room for me to entertain guests, a little dining space, and the pair of rooms my personal manservant uses (yes, I have a personal manservant!!!). Sweet prophets. It’s beyond insane. And mine is one of ten guest suites.
Beyond the guest wing is the main living area for the clan, their own private suites of rooms, entertainment space, a full-sized gym (yay!), indoor swimming pool, and a monstrous kitchen. I couldn’t even see the far end of the kitchen when I went in to give the head cook his marching orders for what Anrel needed. Holy cats.
That’s the part of the house (can I call this estate a house?) that I know of. I think there’s more. A lot more.
All of it is styled to the max. Fine furnishings. Luxurious fabrics. State-of-the-art technology for entertainment and ease of living. Art that I worry might be priceless, so I’m not touching one damned bit of it. I can’t believe people live like this. I can’t believe I have the chance to live like this. I’m not sure I want to…except I really like Clan Aslada. I wonder if they’d downsize to a cottage for me?
Despite the new surroundings, Anrel at long last couldn’t keep her eyes open another second. She fell asleep on her manny’s shoulder. He’d taken her from me to get acquainted as soon as we arrived. While I had been leery of the inexperienced childcare staff at the Matara Complex, Imdiko Snoy’s demeanor and references put me at ease right away. His older but attractive and honest face was made for guileless smiles. He cuddled fussy Anrel like a pro. Which he was. He’d been a manny to the few high-ranking children born in the last hundred years, children who’d all become members of the Royal Council, ambassadors, and governors – yes, even Aslada himself.
I ventured to ask him why he wasn’t clanned. “I was, to the only men I could ever love. Soulmates, I think you’d Earthers call them,” Snoy said, a moment of sorrow passing over his face. “But they died, ten years apart. I was still young enough and could have had my pick of clanmates after that, since my rank was good and my breed is rare enough to attract instant interest. I didn’t want any other clanmates though. No Nobek or Dramok could compare to what I had.”
Sweet prophets, could there be a sadder story? Snoy, too heartbroken to love again but too Imdiko to not care for others, devoted himself to the children of those few who had them. Much like Cifa, he was the oldest brother to several siblings and had plenty of practice dealing with kids. He’d been a natural manny and tutor to his young charges.
While Snoy whisked Anrel away to her nursery for her nap, I followed Clan Aslada to the not-so-common common room, where they liked to get together to relax.
It was another overwhelming room. There was a huge vid game table, where the surface displayed whatever contest was programmed and played. Tokens, if used, were rendered in 3D that was so real, you’d swear you could pluck them right off the table.
A map was displayed on the table. From the tiny figures of ground troops standing on the landscapes and the military craft hovering in the air over them, I guessed this to be a kind of war game, something that entailed involved strategy. It had been paused at some point, with everything frozen at a standstill. It was fascinating to look at, but having seen the aftermath of the real thing recently, I felt my stomach churn a little.
The info/entertainment system was immense too. The vid screen nearly covered an entire wall. There were four more smaller screens, two on each side of the mammoth one.
“As governor, I need to keep up on a lot of news,” Aslada told me. “Even though the feeds strive to be objective, some bias can slip through. I like to get a feel for how different sections of the public view what’s happening.”
“Not to mention catching the first updates on the election returns on voting day,” Jaon smirked.
Aslada gave him a disgruntled look. “If I have the means to keep track, why shouldn’t I? And I don’t see you complaining when there is a kurble match, a shuttle race, and the fights on at the same time. I really do insist on all the vids for the news,” he insisted to me.
If they were going to argue over Aslada’s purposes for having his own multiplex, it was cut short by the arrival of Nomol. He went straight to the carved wood bar that took up half the wall opposite the vid wall. He smiled at me. “Would you like to try another drink, Matara? Give me a flavor and let me see if I can come up with something to please you.”
“How are you on Earther tastes?” I challenged him. “I’m a coffee and chocolate addict.”
His grin widened and he started mixing. “I’ve had the opportunity to try them both. I think I might have something you’ll enjoy.”
A couple minutes later I was sipping a frothy concoction that tasted of a dark stout with strong chocolate and coffee flavoring. It was perhaps the best drink I’d ever had in my life. I told Nomol he’d better save the recipe for that one.
As with the rest of the place, the furnishings were elegant, almost too fabulous for me to dare touch. The massive seating surface that faced the vid wall was more a piece of art than furniture. Its back and sides were sculptural metal, formed to look like the intricately woven branches of the trees that dotted the nearby hills. The leaves were metal too, and colored in various hues that stunned the eye with amazing detail. It curved halfway around the great circular firepit in the center of the room.
When Meyso indicated I was to make myself comfortable on the dark green crushed velvet upholstery of this couch, I sat down gingerly. It was surprisingly comfortable, as soft and giving as any well broken-in sofa. I was terrified of spilling my drink or of doing any damage to such a magnificent piece. I only relaxed when Jaon flopped down next to me, with no more care than if he sat on an old, battered recliner. Meyso sat on my other side, also with casual indifference.
“Did you like the tour?” Aslada asked after settling himself on Meyso’s far side. His playful attempts to kick Jaon over so that he could sit next to me hadn’t budged the Nobek for an instant, so he gave up with an exaggerated pout.
“It was wonderful,” I said. “This is a beautiful area.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Aslada beamed. “Everyone is always going on about the capital and the cliffs – and yes, it is picturesque there – but this continent has quite a bit to offer as well.”
“You said you hope to have a second Matara Complex built on this side of the world.”
“Right in my own territory,” Aslada confirmed. “In fact, that’s one of the proposals I’d like your help in making a vid for—”
He was interrupted by my portable com going off. “Sorry,” I said as I fumbled it out of the pouch I kept it in. “I bet it’
s from one of my friends. I forgot to let them know I got here safe and sound.”
I checked the frequency and felt my face go hot. It was not Candy or Katrina. The com was from Larten. I swear I was trying to send his call to record a message, but I hit the wrong darned icon and connected the damned thing instead.
Oops.
I couldn’t very well click off on him, so I said in a weak voice, “Hi.”
His voice sounded darkly gleeful, almost as if he could sense the bad situation I’d put myself in. “Hello, Shalia. I take it you made it to your destination all right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jaon’s brow rise at the sound of another man’s voice. Yeah, try sounding casual in my situation. Ha. This sucked on so many levels.
“I’m here in one piece. Having a lovely time. It’s quite beautiful.”
“And Anrel? How is my other sweet girl after her journey?”
I knew Larten had guessed I had an audience. He’d put plenty of emphasis on the word my. Jaon’s other brow traveled up.
Shalia's Diary #9 Page 5