There was nothing like that here. It really did feel as if the whole planet was making them welcome. President Arthas looked pleased.
‘As it should be,’ she stated, ‘and we cannot thank you enough either for coming to our world yourself or bringing with you such thrilling visitors.’ She had already sent messages of welcome to both Silvie and Shion. ‘But do, please, come down and see us, Captain. The Senate is in session at the moment and everyone would be delighted to meet you.’
As she spoke, she widened the view of the camera she was speaking into, changing it from head-shot to a 360 panorama. This revealed that she was in an amphitheatre; tiered seats amidst a riot of flowers, surrounded by trees.
Alex recognised this as one of the Senate meeting venues. One of the oddest things he’d learned about Telathor was that there was no single central government building, no famous and imposing Senate building as there would be on any other League world. Here, there were more than forty System Senate meeting venues, one in each national region, and the Senate met at each one on a schedule which shared their visits fairly. The amphitheatre was in the open and this too was normal for Telathor. They lived much of their lives outdoors, with a controlled climate which was sub-tropical across most of the inhabited zones.
Alex looked at the Telathor System Senate: three hundred and twenty six Senators who had been seated around the amphitheatre but were getting to their feet, now, as the president put them on camera. They were waving and cheering, many of them beckoning to Alex invitingly.
There was nothing he could do, of course, but accept.
Fortunately, the Port Admiral was ahead of the game. He was waiting on another line and came on holo-link the moment Alex ended his call with the president.
‘Hello, Alex!’ he greeted him, and without waiting for a response, ‘Do they want you at the Senate?’
‘Uh…’
‘Thought they might,’ Admiral Croker didn’t give him time to answer that, either, but gave him a smug, beaming smile. ‘I’m sending a shuttle for you,’ he told him, ‘with a liaison officer – Lt Vila. He’ll have all the arrangements in hand. And I’ll meet you there, okay?’
Alex just had time to say ‘Thank you, sir,’ before the admiral, well aware of the pressure on his time, gave him a cheery wave and broke the connection.
He called the League Ambassador next. Ambassador Li was also waiting for his call, greeting him as a fellow ambassador and assuring him that all the facilities of the Embassy were at his disposal. He was a stately gentleman nearing retirement – a posting to Telathor was hardly an assignment in which ambitious young bloods could make their reputation, and it tended to be given as a reward for long service. Alex had wondered whether there might be just a little resentment from that direction, given that the Fourth’s arrival would inevitably disrupt the ambassador’s very pleasant semi-retirement, and perhaps, too, because he saw Ambassador von Strada as an upstart intruder.
There was no hint of that, though, in the gentle but friendly greeting.
‘I won’t keep you,’ he said, ‘I’m sure you have a thousand demands on you right now and the last thing I want is to add to that pressure. I just wanted you to know that you have every support and assistance I can offer.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Alex said, and said the same thing again a couple of minutes later in an almost identical conversation with the captain of the Anubis.
‘Ger, please.’ Captain Gerard Jite had been a captain for years before Alex von Strada was even a first year cadet. He too had been assigned to command of the homeworld squadron at Telathor as a combination of reward and semi-retirement. He had never made the step from captain into the ranks of admiralcy, but anyone who assumed that this meant his career had faltered in some way would have got it wrong. He had refused three attempts to promote him out of ship command, stating each time that he had not joined the Fleet in order to skipper a desk.
‘Alex,’ he reciprocated, though feeling a little shy about being on first name terms with a stranger he felt to be so very much more senior to him. His concern about the possibly hostile attitude of the Anubis’ captain, though, was clearly unnecessary. Ger Jite was smiling warmly.
‘We won’t be any nuisance to you,’ he assured the Fourth’s commander, ‘But if we can help in any way, count on us, okay?’
‘Thank you,’ said Alex, with real gratitude. By that point, however, the Port Authority shuttle was on approach, so he had to excuse himself. A message from Yula Cavell confirmed what he had already suspected, that his ‘liaison officer’, Lt Vilar, was also to be his security escort. He would, Yula told him, be safe in Vil’s hands.
Alex felt that, too. Lt Vilar was no hulk in shades, but a quiet, pleasant-mannered man in his thirties with a reassuringly calm manner.
‘We’ll be going straight to land at the venue, sir,’ Lt Vilar passed a schedule from his wristcom to Alex’s, and one glance at it told the skipper that there were very detailed plans in place for the flight, including a police escort from atmospheric entry to landing on the VIP pad at the Duala venue.
Alex didn’t feel the need to study that in detail. Between them, he felt, Froggy Croker and Yula Cavell had his security so tightly wrapped up that he certainly didn’t need to concern himself with it.
Instead, he gave his attention to returning the remaining two VIP calls as the shuttle headed for the planet – the army general had to be thanked for lending them a base, and the SDF colonel in chief had to be acknowledged, too. The SDF colonel in chief was very obviously keen to make friends with them, complimenting Alex on the skill with which the Fourth piloted their swarms.
‘I hope we’ll have the opportunity to do some flying with you,’ he said hopefully, and Alex could say nothing to that but that he hoped so too, time permitting.
By the time he’d finished that call the shuttle was heading into atmosphere. They cruised through pink clouds and over a violet ocean.
‘The bioshock index is quite high, here,’ Lt Vilar said, apologetically, and indicated his pocket. ‘I have anti-allergens to hand, should you need them.’
Alex indicated his own pocket, with a brief smile. He knew very well what he was going into, here. They had even adjusted gravity and atmosphere on the ship for training to prepare them for it. Gravity was 96% of Chartsey standard and atmospheric density at sea level was 94%, but oxygen content was at 118% and the magnetic field was 146% of Chartsey standard. It was a combination which could make visitors feel light-headed, even without the weird colours and the massive influx of potential allergens floating in the air.
‘I’m well supplied,’ Alex assured his escort. In fact he had a mediband discreetly fastened around his ankle, already charged with all the medication he might need to help with bioshock.
He did need it, too. Even with lighting and temperature adjustment aboard the shuttle as they came in for landing, stepping out of it was an overwhelming experience.
Everything hit, all at once. The colours, the heat, the noise, the smell, the clamour of people all around, the wind, the trees, the rush of oxygen, a dizzying spin.
Alex stood very still, focussed his eyes on something that seemed solid straight in front of him, and concentrated on controlling his breathing as the world swooped and span around him. This was far from being his first experience of bioshock but it was the most intense, almost like greying-out in high-gee manoeuvres. Within seconds he could feel a prickling at his eyes and a tickle in his nose which indicated that he was, indeed, having a strong allergic reaction. In extreme cases people had been known to go into a potentially fatal anaphylactic shock, but Alex just waited, knowing that meds would kick in within seconds. There was a slight, cold sensation at his ankle, and as his eyes managed to make sense of what they were looking at, he realised that he was staring intently at a police officer.
It took a moment to realise that even when he could see the man clearly. On every other world Alex had visited the police wore uniforms which combined tough pro
tective qualities with a semi-militaristic authoritative style. On Telathor, the police uniform was green shorts and an orange t-shirt with a purple waist-bag. As he came into focus, Alex could see that the logo and lettering on the police officer’s t-shirt announced that he was from the Duala Police Service, that his name was Jotto and that he was Here to Help.
Alex found that his hand was being shaken and responded automatically, pulling back his focus to the person who’d stepped in to welcome him. He never did catch the man’s name but allowed himself to be ushered away from the landing pad. He had to concentrate on his breathing and keeping his pace steady, as he felt otherwise he might stagger like a drunkard, but his awareness of his surroundings was improving. He was aware of being led along a tree shaded path with dense bushes either side displaying plate-sized orange flowers. The buzzing, he realised, was not due to bioshock but was actually the hum of countless insects – there were clouds of the smaller kinds as well as quick flitting larger ones. There was a flying beetle here, he remembered, as big as a Chartsey sparrow. They had set the Heron’s airlock to automatically spray everyone who left the ship with insect repellent, and he had extra supplies in his pocket if required, but somehow insect repellent seemed a little inadequate when something the size of a mouse buzzed past your ear.
Glancing down at his hands, Alex saw that his skin tone had deepened to a rosy hue, and even his grey uniform had acquired a pink tinge. He felt weirdly disorientated, not least because he’d spent the last eleven weeks in space and even stepping out into a familiar groundside environment could be a little overwhelming after so long enclosed. He hadn’t expected to be going groundside so soon, either – he’d thought he’d have at least an hour or so before going to the port office for a private meeting with Froggy Croker.
Instead, he found himself being escorted straight into the arena where the Telathoran Senate was sitting.
It was a surreal experience. Whatever governmental business they were debating was promptly abandoned as they got to their feet and applauded him – some more enthusiastically than others, but all joining in. President Arthas came forward to meet him, towering over Alex as most Telathorans would. An aide had provided a red flower, which Alex knew to expect as a traditional welcome on Telathor. The custom was for it to be tucked into the visitor’s hair, but finding Alex’s hair cropped too short even to support a daisy, the president laughed and tucked it into a breast pocket instead.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ she said, and Alex gazed up at her, feeling very small and quite bewildered.
‘It’s an honour, ma’am,’ he managed. And even now, when he had to concentrate to stand upright and keep breathing steadily, there was not a flicker of emotion on his face.
President Arthas laughed again, delightedly, and turned to the rest of the Senate, indicating Alex rather as if she were a magician’s assistant and the magician had just performed a really impressive trick. The Senators seemed to think so, too, as they whooped and cheered appreciatively.
Alex couldn’t help but wonder if he might be dreaming this. He was accustomed to public appearances which involved police anti-riot cordons and screaming hordes of protestors. For any crowd to be cheering him felt bizarre. For a system Senate to be cheering him was just so out there that he could hardly believe it was really happening.
The next few minutes passed in something of a blur. He was aware of the president asking if she could visit the ship, and of himself making a courteous answer. Then she said something about Senators wanting to visit too and for some reason hands were going up all around the amphitheatre. He said, ‘By all means, ma’am,’ because there didn’t seem to be anything else he could say, then there was more cheering, another handshake and the president suggested that he might go and relax for a while.
‘We won’t be long, here,’ she said, and Alex was just about compos mentis enough to thank her before he was led out of the amphitheatre again. Somebody asked him if he would like to go indoors, adding helpfully that visitors were often more comfortable indoors, and he agreed that that would be very nice. They seemed to be walking for a very long time and there were a lot of people around and a great deal of noise. He was aware that Lt Vila was at his shoulder throughout, and felt tremendously grateful to him. He was, he recognised, in no condition to be handling his own security right now. He didn’t even know where he was, or where he was being taken.
And then, miraculously, there was Froggy Croker right in front of him, laughing as he saw how dazed Alex really was, but guiding him straight to a chair and supporting him with one hand under his elbow.
‘Here,’ he said, and handed him an unusually bulky pair of shades, fine skin-grip wires which would curve above his eyebrows. Telathor was one of the few worlds where Fleet personnel were not only permitted to wear shades with uniform but were actually issued with them as part of groundside kit. ‘Put them on,’ Froggy told him.
Alex did so, though it was quite well shaded where they were, and found to his relief that the world went back to the colour palette he was used to. With these shades on the sky was blue, yellow and white reappeared and the eye-piercing orange faded out.
‘Better?’ Froggy asked, and Alex nodded.
‘Much,’ he said, and was amazed at how much difference it did make, seeing things back in ‘normal’ colours again. It took away the sense of dream-like distortion.
‘Your first few hours here are like tripping out,’ Froggy told him, and then, evidently remembering that there were other people around, added quickly, ‘So they tell me, anyway.’
Alex would have laughed, if they’d been in private. As it was, he gave a tiny little quirk of one corner of his mouth, which Froggy saw, and grinned at.
‘Just sit there for a minute,’ he advised, and turned away, speaking to one of the other people around them, ‘The captain is fine – just acclimatising. Yes, thank you, just water.’
As he got his bearings, Alex was able to see that they were seated in an area which appeared to be a restaurant. He thought it was outdoors at first, which puzzled him since he was fairly sure they’d said they were taking him indoors. But here they were surrounded by flower beds with the tables shaded by trees. It took him a while to realise that there was a roof between him and the tree canopy – it was invisible glass, only noticeable when a leaf fell onto it and stuck for a few seconds before drifting off again.
‘The difference between indoors and outdoors on Telathor is largely theoretical,’ he remembered from Rangi’s briefing.
‘Sorry?’ Froggy said, and it was only then that Alex realised he had said the words aloud.
‘Just thinking out loud, sir,’ he admitted.
‘Ah.’ Froggy grinned again at that. ‘Bioshock meds can make you feel a bit woozy. Just give yourself a minute and have some water.’
Alex did as he was told, and found that things did become clearer. The restaurant area they were in had about a hundred tables, though only about half of them were occupied. Each table had a direct-to-optic holoprojector in the centre of it, which many of the customers were watching, though others were gazing at Alex and the admiral in frank fascination. There were quite a few police officers within view, standing around the perimeter, but they seemed relaxed and friendly. One of them, seeing Alex looking at him, gave him a broad grin and a wave hello.
‘Er…’ Alex gave him a cautious nod, and then turned back to Froggy Croker. ‘It feels a little embarrassing to have to ask,’ he admitted, ‘but where exactly are we, sir?’
Froggy laughed.
‘High security rest area,’ he explained. ‘For the Senators and senior officials. We’re to wait here until called into a private meeting with the President. That could be minutes, or hours.’ He smiled. ‘We’re on people time, here. So just relax, okay?’
‘Sir,’ Alex acknowledged, and was glad to be able to just sit there for a while, sipping his water. Froggy chatted about harmless, undemanding topics which didn’t require much in the way of respo
nse, and gradually Alex felt himself coming back to full awareness.
By the time another official came to take them to see the president, he was able to get up without feeling dizzy, and was alert both to the route they took and to his surroundings when they were taken into the presidential office.
Or rather, the presidential glade. There was no desk here, no conference table, not even any walls. The president received them in what appeared to be a forest clearing, with winding paths through the richly flowered, insect-humming undergrowth. In the centre of the clearing, arranged in a circle, were five high backed chairs apparently made from branches and twigs tied together with vine. It looked more like the kind of thing you might encounter on a forest sculpture trail than any kind of presidential office, and Joy Arthas confirmed this as she made them welcome.
‘Unusual for you, I know,’ she said, gesturing around and indicating chairs hospitably, ‘but all our public offices are art installations – it expresses who we are, as a people. You’ll find the chairs comfortable, and there’s a pad if you want to use one.’
She indicated on the seat she had taken herself, pulling out a discreetly concealed data-screen on a flexible support, which could be positioned for use as a desk.
Alex left his where it was, sitting down as calmly as if he had no concern about risking his uniform on rough and somewhat mossy bark. A little to his surprise, he encountered an air-cushion which supported him comfortably. If this really did express who the Telathorans were as a people, then they were clearly not prepared to sacrifice comfort or practicality for the sake of art.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said, feeling reassured.
‘Oh please, Joy,’ she told him. ‘Everybody calls me Joy – we don’t do that silly ‘Madam President’ thing here, as if being president somehow makes you an idol to be reverenced. And I will call you Captain, to begin with, as I know that is what you prefer, until you know me well enough to smile. Which, I understand, may take some time, so no need to feel anxious about it or try to force it, okay? Just be yourself, Captain, no pressure.’
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