This is forecallis, a tea made from the buds of flowers which grow in the mountains. A screen curved into the end of the leaf informed them as the tray was served, along with an image of a tiny, lily-like rock plant with pale pink buds. It represents the strength of life in adversity. The dish is a desderi, or cupped hand. It represents the union of people and the natural world. The colours and design represent water meadows.
Quite what the precise relationship and significance was between mountain flowers and water meadows was not stated; this was hospitality, after all, not a study session. But it gave enough information to give the diners some awareness that these things were significant, that the wrong tea or the wrong cup served during such a meal would be as crass as serving guests champagne in coffee mugs.
Alex sipped the almost tasteless, tepid beverage, grinning to himself, inwardly.
This was one of the many, many things the Diplomatic Corps had got wrong in their disastrous attempt to host a dinner in Shion’s honour. To be fair to them, they had been working on the basis of incomplete information. The request passed to the Pirrellothians, via the Solarans, had been for guidance and recipes for a special meal they wanted to hold for Shion. The Pirrellothians had duly provided that and even, at the League’s request, sent food and recordings of music aboard the next Solaran ship heading into the League.
They had not, however, felt it necessary to explain things that were so obvious to them that even a toddler would be expected to know them. Such as, for a start, that guests of a chamlorn did not eat their meal at the same pace as the chamlorn herself. Lady Ursele had been at dinner herself for a couple of hours already and it would be another two hours again before the extreme ritual of serving her minute portions was concluded. Her guests, though, could start their meal anytime and would be served appropriate portions for their physiology, at a stately but still very much quicker pace.
The tea drunk, Alex requested the next course. The dish consisted of small savoury triangles wrapped in crispy green leaf. Alex had to conceal another grin as he recognised a sharply aromatic scent arising from the serving dish. This, he knew, was a kind of sour lime which had been wiped across the dish as an aromatic. At the Diplomatic Corps version, yet another misunderstanding had caused the chefs to squeeze the mouth-puckering liquid over the food itself, rendering it all but inedible.
But then, they’d got so much wrong, Alex mused, it was not hard to see now why Shion had collapsed into helpless hilarity the moment she was able to step out of formal role.
As he nibbled the dish, though, Alex saw a stir ripple through the assembled diners, a rush of excitement with people peering and craning to see what was happening.
What was happening was Silvie, attending in her capacity as Quarian Ambassador and holder of an embassy plot on the Avenue, however nominal that embassy might be. She had not so much agreed to come as insisted on it. As she’d pointed out, she’d been almost invisible throughout this visit, keeping herself in the background so as not to disrupt Lady Ursele’s mission. But this was to be a very important event; Silvie wanted to be here both for her own satisfaction and to represent her people. She was confident that with a couple of provisos she could attend the evening without any risk of triggering diplomatic incidents.
The provisos were with her as she came into the Hall of Veils, Jarlner holding one of her hands while Shion held the other. Silvie had specified that Shion and the Samartian officer would have to be with her, staying close so that she could anchor to them emotionally if the atmosphere was too intense and physically holding her hands at any times when the situation might become overwhelming. Both Jarlner and Shion were wearing civilian tuxedos, too, making it clear that they had been temporarily co-opted as members of Silvie’s diplomatic staff and were not there representing either the Fourth or the League or Samartian embassies. Silvie herself looked stunning in the nearest she could come up with to any kind of traditional quarian wear, in a filmy rainbow robe worn over a metallic skin-suit in her favourite silver.
The thrilled, slightly apprehensive intakes of breath which followed Silvie’s appearance made Alex a little concerned for a moment, especially as he saw Silvie’s grip tighten on Shion and Jarlner’s hands. But their support was strong enough to keep Silvie from breaking into more than a little giggle at finding herself the centre of attention. And she carried herself, too, with a dignity which made Alex feel extremely proud of her. Formal decorum was just not a quarian trait. This was something Silvie had had to learn and was more alien and absurd to her than any Dance of the Lizard could ever be to Alex. But she was carrying it off very well… at least, until she’d been through the ritual of flower greeting and been warmly welcomed by Lady Ursele. At that point the decorum wavered a little as she gave Alex a bright grin and a waggle-fingered hello.
Alex raised his own hand in reply, with the faintest of smiles on the outside and a radiant surge of love for her within which he knew she would know even if she couldn’t sense it amongst all that emotional noise. She was some distance away, after all, a good ten couches away from the guest place to which Alex had been shown.
Roll’em Moffaret arrived just moments after Silvie had seated herself, giving the commodore a quick but delighted smile as he was led to his own place after the ceremony of welcome. The Lundanian president had dressed up for the occasion with real jewelled dice glittering on the lapels of a satin suit in a regrettable shade of peach. It didn’t fit him any better than any of the other clothes Alex had seen him wear, with that odd poured-into and bulging look of an over-muscled man squeezed into a conventionally shaped jacket. His hair was so highly glossed that it shone like wet paint. Answering the smile with a slight nod, Alex wondered anew that a man whose appearance was so vulgar and manner so coarse could actually be so intelligent and sensitive within. It was no wonder, he thought, that Silvie so often found the way that humans presented themselves and related to one another on the basis of appearance to be so hilarious. Alex felt embarrassed, now, when he remembered how he’d judged Roll’em when they’d first met, allowing prejudice to blind him to the qualities which had been so evident to Lady Ursele right from the start.
Roll’em looked around the room with an almost child-like wonder, beamed impartially at all of the ambassadors and with that, promptly dived in to the experience of sampling Pirrellothian food.
The food was enjoyable. It was a very light cuisine, entirely vegetarian, often resembling an edible floral display. It was very lightly spiced and barely seasoned, with sweet and savoury courses intermingled in no obvious pattern. No alcohol was served, but there were teas served between each dish, varying in taste, some sweet, some bitter, all served in a style of cup unique to that particular beverage.
Alex certainly enjoyed his meal and all the more so because he was able to eat in peace, with none of the table-talk which normally made formal dining such an ordeal. Today he could simply enjoy the food and the venue and amuse himself observing his fellow guests. It was entertaining just to note how many of them were covertly watching and copying everything he did, taking a lead from him in coping with these unfamiliar protocols. It made him wonder, mischievously, what would happen if he did something ludicrous just for the fun of it. But he didn’t, of course, he just ate and drank unhurriedly, maintaining the dignity due to his uniform and his diplomatic status.
They were in the Hall of Veils for the two hours it took until Lady Ursele had finished her own meal – the tiniest of portions served with long breaks between, scarcely more than a nibble here and a sip there. Only once she’d finished her meal did the musicians bring their performance to a gentle conclusion, indicating that the ceremonial dining had been accomplished.
As silence fell, attention focussed on Lady Ursele, who smiled at them all.
‘It is,’ she said, ‘a very great pleasure to welcome you all to our new home. And I trust that all of you will feel yourselves to be welcome here, to come here whenever you wish.’
Her smile passe
d over them all and every single one of them felt her sincerity. In the coming days and weeks, they would find that they could indeed come here whenever they wished, either to speak with Lady Ursele herself, to meet with others under her aegis or simply to talk with others in the neutral environment of the resting chambers. There would be ups and downs, of course, inevitable conflicts and setbacks. But the bedrock was here; a space where negotiation was possible, when it had never been so before. Even the language she spoke was compelling, a cadence of speech not heard on human worlds for ten thousand years.
Alex was the one of the few people there who wasn’t using a discreet earpiece for translation. And even for him, the chamlorn’s words were something he could understand, but not speak himself… at least not intelligibly. And it mattered, that. It meant that every word she spoke reminded them delicately that she was of a species which had been old before humanity was born.
‘It is,’ Lady Ursele went on, ‘an occasion of great happiness. And also one of some sorrow, as in making so many new friends we must also say goodbye to those friends who have been such a stalwart support in bringing us here and assisting us with the establishing of our Embassy.’ She smiled at Alex. ‘Would you please come forward, Commodore Alexis Sean von Strada?’
Alex did as she asked, being guided to sit on a cushion at the edge of the pool with Kate to one side of him and Simmy on the other. It was a strange feeling, sitting there in silence, with everyone watching him. At one level, he felt himself to be tremendously exposed. But at the same time he could feel the warmth coming at him. It was evident in the many smiles other ambassadors were giving him, nods of approbation, subtleties of body language that spoke of the esteem in which he was held here. One of the few exceptions, of course, was Ambassador Jilit-Defane-Taracalas, ensconced on the couch allocated to Number Seventy Six. The best he could manage was a profound relief that the infuriating Fourth were getting out of his face.
‘You and those who serve with you,’ said Lady Ursele, ‘have given with all of your hearts in the service of peace and for the benefit of all the peoples of humanity.’ She smiled at Kate Naos, representing the Fourth’s officers, and Simmy, representing the crew. Both of them changed colour like a well-rehearsed blushing duet. ‘You have been brave and you have been kind.’ She smiled at Alex, then, with the warm serenity of a golden sunset. ‘Two qualities which give us great hope for the future of your species. Our thanks to you, Commodore Alexis Sean von Strada, and to all those who assist and support you.’
Alex felt a strange sense of heat rising in his face and to his own amazement, realised that he too must be blushing.
‘It is we,’ he wanted to say, ‘who stand indebted to you, your grace, for the courage and sacrifice with which you and your attendants have stepped out to assist us. It has been an honour, a great privilege, to play even the smallest part in supporting your endeavour.’ He had intended to say that, planned to say it, discussed it beforehand with Buzz and Eldovan. But in the moment, no words came. He could only gaze at her in bemused humility.
Lady Ursele seemed to understand, though. Of course she understood. She had understood everything there was to know about Alex before she even met him, analysing him through the people who worked for him. She had seen how inspired they were by his joyous embracing of every challenge the cosmos offered, by the dedication he gave to nurturing the people in his care, not because he felt it his duty to do so but simply because that was who he was. And she had known from their first meeting that Alex would give everything he had, up to and including his own life, to protect and serve. He was indeed someone in whom the Pirrellothians could put complete trust.
All that was in her smile and left Alex feeling that she knew and understood him better, even, than he knew and understood himself.
Not a goddess, he repeated in his head, but in his heart of hearts, there was a part of him which felt otherwise. Lady Ursele was more than special. And though he would have flatly and instantly denied any hint of a suggestion that he might worship her, his feelings of profound and reverent admiration were not that far from idolatry.
And if they were, he defended his feelings in a confused mental argument with himself, nobody was a more worthy recipient for idol-worship than this wise and gentle being, who had sacrificed and endured so much to come to the aid of suffering humanity.
‘Our honour, your grace,’ he managed at last, which was quite possibly one of the shortest diplomatic speeches ever made and certainly the most heartfelt.
As Alex left the meeting a stately half-hour later, the pinkness in his cheeks had cooled, but the warm glow in his heart would stay with him for the rest of his life, kindled every time he thought about that moment.
But that was it – holding the ceremonial gift of a crystallised flower in both hands, Alex left the dining chamber with no more ado than farewell smiles from many of the ambassadors and a hearty wave goodbye from the Lundanian President.
Silvie, Shion and Jarlner were just a minute behind him. And just ten minutes later, all of them were back aboard the Venturi, freshly showered and changed back into shipboard rig. The ship was prepped for launch, everyone already at their stations. All it needed was for Alex to cast an eye over launch-prep screens and give a nod to Eldovan.
Moments later, the ship was rising out of parking orbit and accelerating. It would take them another two hours to reach the launch tunnel, but they were, now, psychologically, already on their way. And like any spacer, Alex was looking forward, now, not back. His thoughts were with the people he’d left to guard their discarded weaponry. It would be good to see them again, to get the whole crew back aboard and to restore the ship’s fighters and armaments. Necessary as it had been to strip them down and beneficial as it turned out, Alex felt as strongly as any other member of his crew that the destroyer was naked without their guns and fighters.
Shion evidently felt the same. She had already said her goodbyes to her aunt, privately, earlier in the day and there was no hint of regret in her that they were leaving.
‘It’ll be good to see everyone,’ she observed. ‘And get Firefly back.’
Alex laughed, as it was quite apparent to him that getting Firefly back was far more important to Shion than anything else.
And it would be good for all of them to bring the ship back to normal. As amazing as it had been to have Lady Ursele aboard, there was a sense of returning to a comfortable normality as they left the system. And a strong sense of satisfaction, too.
‘Well, we did everything we could,’ Buzz said, looking back at the sand and sludge coloured world as it fell into an orange point behind them. ‘And we can do no more.’
Alex nodded. They had done well here. In fact, they had done extremely well, coping with extraordinary situations and challenging circumstances. For once, Alex was actually looking forward to writing his end of mission report and analysis. And every single member of the ship’s company had earned the glowing commendations he would place on all their files.
They had all, Alex knew, done a very good job. And he would tell them so, later.
But for now it was enough just to sit there, relaxed, feeling the weight of the mission lifted from him as the ship hurtled towards the freedom of deep space.
Thirty
By the time they got back to the system where they’d ditched their weaponry, the ship was back to normal. The paintwork indicating the Pirrelothian embassy had been removed from the hull and the embassy itself restored as aquadeck for Silvie’s use.
Arriving at the system was a surprise, though, in more ways than one. They had expected the presence of a Fleet ship sent from X-Base Sentinel to protect their cache. What they hadn’t expected was that that ship would be a carrier – the Apollo, in fact, one of the mighty Deity class.
It was superlight, of course. There was no launch tunnel here so ships had to remain superlight and the Apollo had remained outside the boundary of the system, as per standard Fleet protocol. But it was an impressive si
ght and there were exclamations of pleasure throughout the Venturi as they saw it.
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Mako Ireson was one of the happiest, pointing out, ‘We can hand over Mister to them!’
What he actually meant was We can get rid of Mister, which everyone on the command deck understood. Mister’s state of mind had not been improved by the discovery that the LIA agent sent aboard to interview him had not only refused to believe him but concluded that he was delusional, the victim of a cruel prank.
Mister had, since that, gone through a phase of doubting his own memory and accusing the Fourth of having drugged and faked the entire episode at the Library. It had taken Mako considerable time and effort to assure him that that experience was genuine and some doubts, he knew, still lingered. Given that and the extreme anger Mister felt against the Fourth for the series of events which had ended up with him in this situation, everyone expected him to be as keen to get off the ship as they were to see him go.
Mako, therefore, was amazed to be told that the LIA agent was protesting against his removal from the ship.
‘I don’t want to go,’ Mister insisted, when Mako went to see him.
‘Uh?’ Mako was bewildered. The one thing which had been consistent throughout all the months of Mister’s captivity was that he wanted off this ship and he wanted off it now. So this turnaround was more than unexpected.
‘I am,’ Mister declared, with an air of aggressive bravado not entirely masking a slight tremor in his tone, ‘claiming asylum.’
‘Asy…?’ Mako echoed, then gave himself a little shake and got it together. ‘Why?’ He stared at the prisoner, taking due note of the white patches on his knuckles where his hands were gripped together and of the rapid beat of the pulse in his neck. Mister was frightened. And Mako, with all his experience, recognised that this was more than the alarm a prisoner might experience when being transferred from a known, safe environment to a new place.
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