by Jean Johnson
“As a good guest should,” Jackie agreed mildly. At the direction of the female Elite manning the nearest side of the reception desk, she placed her hand on a scanner pad and stated her name, then accepted the pad offered to her. Its controls weren’t too different from the ones they had seen up in quarantine, so she was able to turn it on, then off. Li’eth sent her a pulse of inquiry, but she lifted her chin at the broad, transparent monitors ringing the reception desk every few meters. “I’d like to see a map of the facilities.”
“Of course, meioa,” the guardswoman stated. Her hands glided over the controls, and the holding screen on the nearest one shifted, turning into a floor plan. “What would you like to see?”
“I’ve already seen the floor plans for all areas within this particular zone,” Jackie explained, “but I’d like to see how everything relates to our fellow tenants, the Solaricans and the Tlassians.”
“I cannot show you all of their zones for security reasons, but I can show you the general block of chambers reserved for them,” the guard warned her. The map shifted to a three-dimensional display of a truncated, overgrown pyramid. “The blue territory is now the Terran zone. The pink territory is the Solarican zone, and the green area is the Tlassian zone. All beige areas are either buffer zones filled with shielding and emergency life-support equipment, or Elite-controlled areas.
“This corridor connects to the Guard Halls, where visitors from the Third and lesser Tiers will be checking in,” the guardswoman continued, tapping a corridor that led to the relatively narrow “wall” that overlooked the great plaza they had seen. “This corridor connects to the section where Second and First . . . and Imperial Tiers,” she amended, sneaking a peek at Li’eth, “would have access to your zone.
“This corridor over here is for all ambassadorial visits from the other races, including the Solaricans and Tlassians within the North Embassy Wing, and the other races from the South Embassy Wing. The Choya are this orange area here, the K’Katta have moved into this purple section, and the Gatsugi are this silver zone; pale gray is their preferred colormood for diplomacy, as it is completely neutral,” she finished.
“You won’t have as much face-to-face interaction with them as the other races, when it comes to diplomatic meetings,” Tes’rin explained. “They prefer to use communications systems that blank out the actual colormood they are feeling. The Choya prefer to communicate more often by commscreen than in person, but for reasons of climate. They prefer the air to be hotter and wetter than most V’Dan find comfortable.
“The same for yet a third reason would be suggested for all dealings with the K’Katta nation; we have been apprised of the possibility of any of your people reacting adversely to an unexpected encounter with members of the K’Katta race,” Tes’rin said. “It has been suggested that, for the first few months, members of your delegation go nowhere without an Elite Guard escort to help smooth any accidental meetings, and that the majority of your initial contact take place via commscreens, which is psychologically more comforting to our kind.”
Jackie smiled. “You speak ‘diplomat’ fluently, Grand Captain. We had already considered starting our initial discussions with their people remotely, but your reassurances are welcome. You have a very polite way of saying you’ll be on hand to keep things calm should any of my people have a screaming fit of the heebie-jeebies if we physically bump into a K’Katta at some point.”
“I don’t know what a heebeejeebeez is, but I do know how to speak diplomatically, yes. I’ve been doing this for over sixteen years,” Tes’rin allowed. He dipped his head, acknowledging the reality of the situation. “There are those V’Dan—including those who are cosmopolitan and worldly, not just the ones from aboriginal settlements—who are inclined to scream and have a fit out of fright. The K’Katta are very generous and gracious in the face of such things, but yes, it does help to have trained, diplomatic personnel on hand.”
“Then I hope my people will not keep yours too busy,” Jackie allowed. She turned to Li’eth and tipped her head at the screen, and switched languages to Terranglo. “So where do you hang out?”
Reaching around to the front side of the screen, Li’eth dragged everything downward and tapped a section of the next large, pyramidal block. “Right about there. The center of the Imperial Wing has a gorgeous grotto-like garden with balconies for most of the suites of the Imperial Tier to overlook. I’ll show it to you at some point, once everyone else trusts you.”
She smiled wryly at that. “Let’s hope they do.” Switching back to V’Dan, she stated, “I would like Imperial Prince Kah’raman Li’eth V’Daania to have access to the Terran embassy. In specific, to all general public areas, all Terran-only public areas, and to my designated personal quarters. Can you put that into the system?”
“That . . . is highly unusual, but if that is your wish, Grand High Ambassador, it can be done,” the guardswoman stated, glancing at her commander. It took her a few minutes of tapping at the controls, then she had Li’eth press his hand to the scanner and state his full name. By the time that finished, the first group of Terrans had arrived from the Embassy 1 and were piling their belongings to one side of the large, sparse lobby so that they could queue up for registering as well.
(Okay, I’ll bite,) Jackie murmured as Li’eth moved out of their way. Tes’rin and al-Fulan both herded them into the lift, and al-Fulan pressed the button for the topmost floor listed.
(We’re in public; you had better not,) he teased, catching and clasping her hand as they waited for the lift to rise. (What did you want to ask?)
(I know that Li’eth means “Year of Joy,” but I don’t know about your other names.)
(Kah’raman means “King of Starshine.” No giggling,) he warned her, sensing her subthought. (It’s supposed to be quite serious. Li’eth, of course, is “Year of Joy,” and Tal’u-ruq means “Charging with Spear.” Ma’an-uq’en is a fairly common name, either for a personal name or a family name, and it means something similar to your “Mercy” but the full meaning is actually, “Withholding One’s Full Power Out of Compassion.”)
(Quite a mouthful,) Jackie observed, following al-Fulan out of the elevator car. Li’eth followed her, and Tes’rin followed him.
(Shush. Q’uru-hash means “Pricking with Pointed Wisdom.” Both it and Ma’an-uq’en are old names, very honored . . . though Q’uru-hash had fallen out of favor until it was given to me. Just imagine all the poor children being called Q’uru out there . . . And of course, V’Daania means “of the Imperial bloodline.” So what do all the parts of your full name mean?) he asked her.
Tes’rin interrupted before she could reply, gesturing at the guards who were standing watch in the much smaller lobby on this level, four in gold and red, one in brown and black. “As you can see, more Elite have been stationed up here, with a Teh’ran Mah-reen as their overseer for this location.”
(We’re going to have to work on your people’s accent. And yes, I know half of my people don’t pronounce V’Dan correctly half of the time.)
“The elevator to your specific quarters, Grand High Ambassador, lies behind two more security checkpoints. Since we are the same species, we have arranged for a minimum of useful furnishings for all rooms that were given a designated function, such as offices, exercise facilities, sitting rooms, washrooms, bedrooms, kitchen facilities, and so forth. A variety of V’Dan furnishing styles is also being made available for your people to select from a series of catalogs from vetted distributors.
“All furniture, both in the catalog and already present, has been thoroughly examined by Elite security teams to ensure that there are no hidden means by which anyone can directly or indirectly harm your people—this is a service we provide for all furniture throughout the Winter Palace complex,” Tes’rin told her. “I understand that you have furnishings of your own that you wish to bring into the embassy.”
They were passing another
security checkpoint, again manned by Elites and a single Terran, this time a man clad in Navy blues, the gunner and copilot from the Embassy 4, al-Fulan’s ship, apparently sitting watch at the checkpoint since his ship wasn’t scheduled to fly anywhere.
Jackie spread her hands wryly, shrugging. “I actually have a specific preference in mattresses. Since I’ll be stationed here for the foreseeable future, I arranged to have my preferred bed shipped all the way from Earth since there is no guarantee that you V’Dan have anything similar. I can make do on a variety of different types, and even sleep in zero gravity if need be, but I think someone of my rank can be allowed one little indulgence for a long-term posting, yes? That, and it does pack down quite small for its size.”
Tes’rin smiled at her. “If that is your only indulgence, Ambassador, then you will be a rare flower in the garden of the Winter Palace’s allies.”
“Well, I did also arrange to bring three papa he’enalu . . . The best translation would be ‘surf-board,’” Jackie added as that earned her a blank look.
Li’eth addressed the grand captain’s confusion. “They have this sport that involves using a special, shaped board, as big as a person, to ride on the waves of the ocean surf as it rushes into shore. They call the sport surfing, and it takes great strength and skill.”
“Not that much strength,” Jackie dismissed. “It’s for later, when I finally have free time. I brought two boards for myself, and one board for your people to examine, in case they should like to make a few more and try the sport. So just the two indulgences.”
“Well, that is still a low number, Ambassador. The Solarican Grand High Ambassador, Trrrall, had around sixty items he wished brought into or changed in his quarters, and War Lord Krrrnang insisted on gutting and redoing all of the exercise chambers for his warriors within one week of his arrival. Speaking of which, I have offered to see if the War Lord would be willing to give your Captain Al’fulaan a demonstration of their fighting techniques. I have only been privileged to see two such demonstrations in my full career . . . so if they accept, I am hoping they will allow me to watch as well.”
That stopped Jackie. The other three men stopped as well. She faced the Elite Guard officer. “Is that the truth, Grand Captain?”
“Is what the truth?” he asked, lifting his brows.
“That you have not observed the Solarican guards in practice? Is that the truth?” she asked him.
“Of course it is. We are forbidden from using visual and audio surveillance in the embassies of our allied guests. In fact, the only surveillance equipment we maintain in all guest zones are hazardous-situation sensors: fire, smoke, toxic-gas clouds, toxic-liquid spills, and structural integrity,” he counted, ticking off the items on his cyan-splotched fingers. There were a few jungen marks on his face, but several more on his hands, making them look permanently marked with light, bright blue ink stains. “Those are the five things that can affect the safety and well-being of not only all our guests, but also the rest of the Palace structure and its inhabitants.
“Those are therefore the five things we monitor, and we monitor them with a mandatory round-the-day crew of at least three members of each embassy’s own people in each zone’s surveillance chamber, which is located in one of the nearby Guard Hall sections,” he finished. “Will that be a problem?”
“So long as there is transparency in your actions and full, forewarned involvement by our own security teams . . . then no, there shouldn’t be a problem,” Jackie agreed. “I’m surprised that you don’t want to watch how each embassy’s security teams practice their combat capabilities.”
That earned her a wry smile and a slight shake of the grand captain’s head. “There is a large difference, Ambassador, between wanting to watch and being allowed to watch. We are not allowed, however much we might want to watch. Personally, I find the Solaricans very graceful. Their skill at combat is like seeing a silk ribbon dancing in the wind at the end of a tumbler’s wand.”
“Well, I’m not allowed to demonstrate my own combat capabilities in public,” Jackie told him. She gestured for them to resume walking. “So you’ll just have to settle for finding a compliant Solarican.”
“The Space Force insisted upon that,” al-Fulan asserted. “And I back their decision one hundred percent. We can be given all the reassurances on our safety on this world that you care to breathe, but there is always a chance that someone will want to attack Ambassador MacKenzie. The less they know about how prepared or not she is to defend herself, the better.”
“I would say the same thing applies to me,” Li’eth agreed, “save that the secrecy of my military identity, and thus my performance in the military, has been unveiled to some degree.”
“The revelation of your true identity to my people has done more to ensure our trust than it could ever endanger you,” Jackie told him. “At least, from us.”
(A cheap acknowledgment, considering your people are incredibly trusting,) he reminded her.
(Welcoming is not the same as trusting, Li’eth,) she reminded him. (We would have welcomed you warmly regardless. But my people trust you. I should like to strongly recommend to your mother that you be appointed liaison to the Terran embassy. You’ve gained a lot of friends over the last few weeks.)
(Even if I am lousy at your vocabulary-cube game?) he quipped lightly.
(Possibly even because of it,) Jackie teased, smiling. (There’s the second checkpoint, and the elevator doors beyond. These corridors are all shades of white and neutral silver, and hints of United Planets blue. I’m wondering if they carried the theme into my personal quarters.)
(Probably,) Li’eth admitted. (From what I understand, it’s been done in all the various embassies, using lots of white accented with each nation’s colors. The Gatsugi aren’t too thrilled by all the V’Dan Imperial scarlet we use, and gold is the literal color of greed for them, but they do allow our embassies to be decorated in our national hues.) He paused, then added lightly, (And if you ever get to visit their embassy, feel free to wear gray glasses . . . ah, your sunglasses, I think is the Terranglo word. They tend to overindulge in color.)
(I’ll consider myself duly warned and scrounge up a pair for when I go visiting in person. But after umpteen days in quarantine gray, I think I’ll be happy to be mugged by a visual rainbow,) she teased back, entering the last lift with his fingers still twined with hers.
Li’eth had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. That was, until the grand captain eyed their joined hands. “Your Highness . . . from a security standpoint . . . is it necessary to hold hands with the Grand High Ambassador?”
“Very. We are holy-paired,” Li’eth stated, lifting their hands.
“If he wasn’t in a Gestalt with me, as my people call it, I would certainly never allow him or any other V’Dan full and free access to my quarters,” Jackie added firmly. “Nor am I going to allow that access to anyone else, even among our own people, aside from a trusted few. Even the cleaning staff will have limited access.”
“And there are the thorns on the flower. Which is good,” Tes’rin told them, as the lift doors opened onto a tasteful white-and-pale-blue-decorated miniature lobby. “The more guarded you are, the more I will relax in regards to your personal safety, Ambassador. I will never relax fully, of course, but I am in charge of all security measures for the Terran zone. I worked for a while in the South Embassy Wing, and the Thumb of the Son of Cho insisted for the longest time that he didn’t need to alert any security details whenever he wished to use the water gardens for swimming in, on the far south side of the building.”
“That sounds like you have some interesting tales to tell,” al-Fulan offered to his V’Dan counterpart. “Once we get some currency exchanges going, any chance I can buy you a meal, and we can exchange tales?”
“No alcohol, as I’m always in charge, even when I’m not on duty,” Tes’rin demurred. He palmed open
the double doors across from the lift and gestured them to enter a sitting room with yet more silver-and-blue furnishings, couches, chairs, end tables, and so forth. “But some food while we chat would be good.”
“No alcohol, I agree,” al-Fulan agreed, grinning. “I wouldn’t drink it for religious reasons, anyway. But I wouldn’t say no to a medium-rare steak. I’ll buy the first meal after the bureaucrats have figured out a payment exchange system.”
“I assure you, it’s already on my list of things to do, gentlemen,” Jackie confirmed, stepping between the two men as they each moved back to let her enter her new quarters. She tugged Li’eth in her wake as she spoke. “In fact, I think it’s number five: set up a value exchange rate, service for service, facility for facility, so that each government doesn’t have to keep paying for each other’s expenses without any recompense. Sort of a preliminary economic exchange.
“Now, let’s see what amenities you V’Dan have in store for me . . .”
CHAPTER 8
“Finally.”
The single word dropped into the quiet of the inner salon. Empress Hana’ka Iu’tua Has-natell Q’una-hash Mi’idenei V’Daania set her cup of caffen on its gilded coaster on the equally gilded table next to her firmly padded, gilt-edged scarlet chair. Gray eyes, edged with faint lines he hadn’t seen before, watched him approach to within three lengths and lower himself to one knee.
She left him there, waiting for permission to rise, while she studied him.
It gave him time to come to terms with his surroundings, at least. Li’eth had almost forgotten the ostentation of life in the Imperial Tier. That chair was very unlike Terran furniture, which tended more toward comfort than impressiveness. All of the furniture here in this private but still formal sitting room was meant to be impressive. Gold and silver, nassen-bone carvings and other ossified, opalescent stones, rubies and garnets and so forth, luxurious fabrics woven from rare, colorful fibers—with red and cream predominating, of course—and every bit of wood carved and accented by the finest artists.