The Marann (3 page)

“I couldn’t find a given name for him
in any of the material Central Command sent me.”

“He hasn’t told anyone in the Trade
Alliance what his name is,” the Ambassador said. “Might be a
security concern.”

“So I’m to call him
‘Sural’?”

“The
Sural,” Adeline corrected.
“It comes from the name of his province.”

“Suralia is a northern province, right
up against the ice sheets,” the Admiral said. “High summer there is
like August in Alaska, and deep winter drops to dangerous
temperatures. Right now, it’s late spring, which is warm enough,
but the nights are cold. Didn’t Central Command tell you to bring
warm clothing?”

“Um, yes,” she replied.

The Ambassador started to chuckle, a
basso rumble like gravel. “They didn’t mention how cold it gets or
for how long, did they?”

Marianne glanced from one man to the
other with an uncomfortable feeling crawling up her
spine.

“A Tolari year is just over two Earth
years,” Adeline said. “The seasons are six months long, and winter
gets beastly cold.”

“On the bright side, you get a six
month summer, with a couple months of warm weather on each side,”
the Admiral added.

“Well,” said Marianne, “I’m glad I
brought several pairs of long underwear.”

The Admiral’s wife stirred. “I’m sure
we can do
something
, if she gets cold?”

The Admiral gave his wife a fond smile
and patted her hand. “Central Command briefed you on everything you
needed to know except the practical day-to-day details. The days
are a little longer than ours, just over twenty-five hours, which
means you’ll only be in sync with ship time once every twenty-five
days. Tolar gravity is a touch lower than Earth normal, so you’ll
have a spring in your step. Details—it’s all in the
details.”

A silvery laugh came from Adeline, the
Ambassador’s wife. “They didn’t tell you any of that, did they?”
she said.

“No,” Marianne admitted. “They
concentrated on what they thought I would need to know to be
accepted by the Sural.”

“The Sural can still choose to send
you back,” the Admiral said. “The first time you meet him, right
after you arrive at the stronghold, will be the real test. He’ll
accept or reject you right on the spot.”

“The Tolari make a science of
observation,” Adeline added.

Marianne nodded. “So they told me.
It’s almost to the point of mind-reading.”

“They also have keen hearing and an
absurdly sensitive sense of smell,” Adeline continued. “They won’t
want you to use any perfumes or deodorants while you’re down
there—things like that can even make them ill. Your clothing is
already being deodorized.”

“But it’s all clean!”

“Not clean enough for Tolari, trust
me. Something in our cleaning agents irritates them.”

“Almost everything they eat is
poisonous to humans, too,” the Admiral said. “We’ll send you down
with a food scanner. Scan everything before you put it in your
mouth—everything, even if it looks and smells like plain water.
There are a few foods we know you can eat—nutritious ones, I’m
happy to say—but you’re still going to have to take supplements to
stay healthy.”

“Can’t you just phase me down some of
our own food?”

“Not much, and not often.”

“But—”

“They don’t like phase technology,” he
interrupted. “The Sural won’t permit more than a bare minimum, and
he won’t explain why. He’s only going to allow us to phase down
vitamin and protein supplements because we made it clear you’ll get
sick if we don’t. We might be able to slip you a gift now and then,
but don’t count on it. Before you ask, we can’t send down a shuttle
either. The Sural doesn’t want them in his airspace. Your diet is
going to get pretty boring, pretty fast.”

Marianne smiled. “I’m all right with
boring.”

The Admiral grinned. “Ever consider a
career in Earth Fleet?” he quipped. The Ambassador and Adeline
laughed. Laura just shook her head.

“They’re civilized,” Adeline
continued. “But we have to play by their rules, because they’re not
advanced enough to play by ours.”

“I’ll be all right,” Marianne said,
taken aback at the blithe snobbery coming from a diplomat’s wife.
It couldn’t be all that bad.

The Admiral smiled. “I’m sure you
will.” He looked serious again. “But be careful with the food.
Their medical science is primitive. If you get yourself poisoned
and can’t let us know, they’re more likely to kill you than not,
trying to help.”

“Don’t get poisoned.” The Ambassador
lost his smile. “If we have to pull you out, you won’t be allowed
to go back. It’s a kind of cultural taboo—once the Sural has
established a relationship with you, he can’t allow you to leave.
If he does, he can’t trust you again, because you might have been
tampered with.”

“I see,” Marianne said, nodding. “Not
a very trusting people.”

“Not trusting at all,” Adeline said.
“They’ve never allowed any other race to return to Tolar after
first contact. They are gracious and accept a communications
device, then pfft! Goodbye, don’t call us, we’ll call you. It was a
huge surprise to everyone they’re allowing a human down there at
all.”

“Certainly shocked the hell out of the
Trade Alliance.” The Ambassador sipped some coffee. He frowned and
put it down. “They still think we should leave the Tolari
alone.”

Marianne shrugged. “Maybe it really is
the physical resemblance between us that intrigues the
Tolari.”

“That’s the astonishing part,” the
Admiral said. “Parallel evolution. Aside from their ability to
camouflage and disappear at will, they look entirely human. No one
in the Trade Alliance has ever seen anything like it, not even on
planets orbiting the same star—much less on planets twenty-four
light years apart.”

“Do any Trade Alliance races say
why
we should leave them alone?” Marianne asked.

“Not a single damned one,” the
Ambassador answered. “They limit themselves to vague threats,
saying we won’t like it if we try to bully the Tolari.”

“Bully the Tolari?” Marianne blinked.
“Why would we bully them? They’re not even space-faring. They can’t
be a threat to anyone.”

“Well,” said the Admiral, “speculation
isn’t going to answer any questions. We should get you settled into
your quarters. Then I’ll give you a tour of the best ship in Earth
Fleet.”

Chapter Two

Tau Ceti to Beta Hydri took thirty hours through
K-space, even at military speeds. Marianne had a bad case of travel
lag as the
Alexander
approached Tolar—it was midmorning
ship’s time, late afternoon in Suralia, and, according to her
tablet, noon back home, but her body seemed to think it was four in
the morning. The Admiral invited her to the bridge to watch as the
ship went into orbit. Coffee and excitement kept her vertical. Just
barely.

The bridge monitor occupied an entire
wall. At the moment, a growing image of a verdant, Earth-like world
filled it, revolving against a velvet starscape. She took in every
detail, spellbound by the sight. A large ice cap in the northern
hemisphere gave way to green landmasses that looked a little more
blue than she thought they should. In the southern hemisphere,
where late autumn held sway, the ice cap had shrunk, and the
vegetation was yellow.

Awe bubbled out of her. “It’s like a
jewel!”

A few crewmembers sprouted knowing
grins. The Admiral chuckled and clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“Get a good look at it,” he said. “You won’t see Tolar again from
this angle for a good long while.”

An ensign walked up to the Admiral and
saluted. “Sir,” he said, “the shuttle is ready.”

“Very good, ensign. Take Citizen
Woolsey to the shuttle and see she’s comfortable for the ride
down.”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, Citizen,” he said to Marianne,
“it’s been a real pleasure. Good luck.” He shook her
hand.

“Thank you, Admiral. I’ll do my best
to make a good impression.”

She followed the ensign to a shuttle
bay and into a tiny, two-man craft with enough space for herself,
the pilot, and little else. The three bags containing her clothing
plus a pack with a portable phase platform and comms unit filled
what little space existed in the back of the cabin, making it even
more crowded. She stuffed her carryall into the largest bag,
grateful to have her hands free. The ensign settled her in the
copilot’s seat with an admonition not to touch anything and left
her to the good graces of the pilot, a commander of Asian descent
who said little, smiled much, and flew the shuttle with the
precision of long experience.

Marianne had never flown in such a
small craft. The visibility astounded her; she could see the whole
universe from the tiny vessel. She sat silent, eyes wide, not
caring about the huge, goofy smile on her face, trying to absorb
everything at once, while the planet grew until it filled the
cockpit monitor. The shuttle dove into the atmosphere, juddering in
the thick air as it arced over a luxuriant blue-green ocean,
streaking toward the Sural’s province in the northern hemisphere.
His city lay on a coast, against a mountain range. The pilot aimed
for a large plateau jutting between the mountains and the
city.

As they drew close enough to make out
individual buildings, the shuttle turned toward a crescent-shaped
ledge the size of a soccer pitch, perhaps halfway up the plateau’s
high cliffs. The landscape rushing by slowed until the ledge lay
motionless beneath them, and they descended to a landing Marianne
almost didn’t feel. She shot the pilot an exhilarated grin, then
unbuckled and climbed out of the copilot’s chair.

The pilot turned in his seat and rose
with a pinched expression. “Your pardon, ma’am,” he said, “but I
can’t help you with your bags beyond handing them out to you. I’m
not to leave the craft.” He reached past her to tap a panel, and
the shuttle’s back hatch slid open.

She offered him a sympathetic smile.
“Don’t worry about it, Commander,” she said, backing out onto the
springy grass as he passed each bag to her. She slung one over each
shoulder and grabbed the other two by the handles, one in each
hand. “I’m stronger than I look.”

He nodded. “Good luck, ma’am.” He
climbed back into the cockpit and opened a cubby to pull a tablet
from it. “I’ll be parked here until I receive word whether or not
you’ve been accepted for your post at the stronghold, just in case
you need a lift back.”

She smiled, waved, and turned to face
the world that would be her home for the next twenty-six
years.

Gray clouds covered the sky from
horizon to horizon, and a strong breeze buffeted the ledge. Above,
an enormous, weathered stone citadel she assumed to be the Sural’s
stronghold loomed on the cliff top. Below, at the bottom of the
cliffs, a seacoast city spread along a wide bay.

She sniffed at the air. The breeze
carried a tang she couldn’t identify—not that she had expected
Tolar to smell like Earth. The soil beneath her feet fed and
absorbed different plants, and the alien sea beyond the city must
possess its own distinct salt balance and its own plant and animal
life.

The heels of her shoes sank into the
grass. She glanced down—it wasn’t grass. It resembled fern, she
thought, just a touch more blue than a plant should be. Putting
down her luggage, she stooped to run a hand over the ferny bed of
vegetation, which yielded and sprang back under her hand. Then a
gust of wind sent her digging into a bag to retrieve and don a
heavy sweater. Welcoming the extra warmth, she picked up her bags
again and walked a little farther from the shuttle, stopping to
look around.

“Where is everyone?” she wondered
aloud.

A Tolari man burst into view before
her. She started, unprepared for this first demonstration of
camouflage. The bags slipped from arms and shoulders as she jumped
back, a small cry escaping her lips. The man bowed with arms spread
to the side and palms forward. Despite her alarm, she recognized
the posture as apologetic, according to Central Command’s material
on Tolari etiquette.

“Forgive me,” he said in Tolari. His
voice was a pleasant baritone, his dark eyes friendly. He towered
over her—he stood at least two meters tall—spare and dressed in a
pale blue robe covered with white embroidery. Straight black hair
fell well below his knees, gathered at the back of his neck with an
elaborate knot. “I mean you no harm.”

Taking a deep breath to gather her
wits, she tried some Tolari on him. “My name is Marianne Woolsey,”
she said, extending a hand. The man just stared at it, his eyes
flashing with... something. Curiosity perhaps? An awkward pause
stretched before she remembered Tolari didn’t shake hands—they
bowed. She withdrew her hand and did her best to imitate the man’s
apologetic bow.

“Are you here from stronghold?” she
asked, mispronouncing it. Then, trying to get the inflection
correct, she added, “Did the Sural send you?”

The man nodded and made an exaggerated
gesture toward the cliff face. Then he picked up her bags with easy
strength.