The V'Dan (54 page)

“How
dare
you make that demand!” Vi’alla snapped. “Who do you think you are?”

“Premiere Callan?” Jackie called out.

The screens on the tops of the robot towers shifted from a
view of the sea of faces lining the Council Hall, to a close-up of Augustus Callan in his long white sleeveless robe and a somber black suit. Black like the one Jackie wore.

“Grand High Ambassador Jacaranda MacKenzie is correct,” he stated in flawless V’Dan. Apparently he had been practicing it, perhaps with the aid of Ambassador Ah’nan. “Despite the gracious efforts of the Eternal Empress to see for herself how damaging that consistent disrespect has been, and despite her many commands that our people be given the respect we are due . . . the people of the V’Dan Empire do not take the people of the Terran United Planets seriously.

“You desperately want our toys to help you win your war,” he added grimly, “but you
refuse
to ‘play nicely’ with us. We have not once asked to be exalted above any V’Dan citizen. We have simply asked to be treated as your equals. Yet you have
not bothered
as a nation. Our kindness, compassion, and generosity can only extend so far in the face of such repeated insults, discrimination, and blatant disrespect.

“If mere words cannot imprint this problem upon your minds and make you watch your ways and your words, if polite requests and even the most royal of commands cannot get you to treat us
as
your equals, with the full respect due
any
sort of ally regardless of their appearance . . . then the only resort we have left is to insist that
every
person—aliens as well as V’Dan—who wishes to benefit from our technologies be subjected to a mind-block,” Callan stated firmly. “This mind-block will remove the subject’s awareness of the very
jungen
marks that are
causing
your blatant, repeated, ongoing prejudices against those of us who—rightfully and
naturally
—have none.”

This time, it was Hana’ka who clenched her fingers on the armrests of her throne. Whatever it was made from, it looked like a sort of giant, reddish-pink, hollowed-out pearl grown in the shape of a slightly overgrown, somewhat egg-shaped chair. Enough generations had clutched those armrests, wearing the nacreous material into the grooves cupping her fingers when she gripped it.

“. . . And if we demand other options?” Her Eternal Majesty finally asked.

Callan’s reply fell flatly from the tri-part screens and
speakers. “This is not a discussion, Eternity. It is
not
open to negotiation. If you want access to our technology, you and your people, and the entirety of the Alliance, will comply with our right to demand mind-blocks be placed upon anyone who attempts to interact in repeatedly disrespectful ways with our sovereign citizens. If you agree, those who refuse to comply will have only two choices. Compliance or incarceration. At
your
expense.

“If your nation refuses to accept and comply with our ultimatum, we will give you exactly what you deserve for your ongoing, free-willed disrespect.
Nothing,
” he stated coldly, his deep voice echoing the word against the hard stone walls and vaulted ceiling of the Inner Court. “Make up your mind, Empress. Our patience is at an end.”

“You say this will affect the citizens of the other races,” Hana’ka stated. She pointed into the First Tier audience at the aliens seated in the foremost rows. “The Solaricans, the Tlassians, and the rest. I cannot make a unilateral decision for their sovereign governments!”

“According to the Charter of the Alliance itself, as researched by my predecessor, Honorable Assistant Ambassador Rosa McCrary,” Callan countered, “in cases where a ruling will affect
all
member states of the Alliance, the head of a particular state government may elect to make that ruling in the name of all member states, provided the ruling benefits
all
member citizens equally in whatever manner their citizens will be affected. You
do
have that right and that power . . . and whatever your answer is, it
will
affect the Alliance as a whole. Either positively, or advers—”

Sirens blared, loudly enough that most everyone clamped body parts over their auditory organs. They cut off after only a few seconds and were followed by a firm, neutral, female voice announcing.
“This is an Emergency Evacuation Alert. Incoming enemy attack. This is an Emergency Evactuation Alert. All personnel will evacuate to the emergency shelters immediately.”

Hidden strips of lights exploded into life, pulsing in shades of green and white toward doorways on either side of the Inner Court. The Terran tri-part screens flashed, and a markless face from on board what could only be one of the
Embassy
ships
filled the screens. “Ambassador! Dozens of Salik missiles are headed straight for the Winter Palace!”

Startled screams accompanied a rush of hundreds of bodies bolting for those halls. Jackie snapped her gaze up at the ceiling, at the single layer of ceiling between her and those missiles, thinking hard and fast.

“Everyone,
evacuate
!” Hana’ka snapped, even as the Elite raced to grab her family and hustle them away. “Get the defense grids online!”

Jackie whipped around to face her. Somewhere outside, the shields snapped on, humming and crackling loudly enough to penetrate the stone ceiling and walls of the Inner Court. But it wouldn’t be enough, she was dead certain of that. “Kill the positioning signals!”

“—What?”

“The global positioning signals!
Kill them,
” Jackie ordered. “I can
save
this city, but
not
if those missiles have
your own positioning system
still active!”

“You heard the Ambassador!” Hana’ka yelled at her generals, who quickly grabbed for their personal comm units. “Get that system
down
!”

“Li’eth, Balei’in, Te-los! I
need
you—I need
every
psychic and priest,
now
!” Jackie hollered, projecting her voice through the hall. Her voice, and her thoughts. (
To-mi, I need you! Your
people
need you!
)

The markless, ageless woman was coming back from the corridor most people had taken in their escape route. She came dragging two priest-robed, protesting bodies by their arms. A few more trailed uncertainly, fearfully in her wake. (
On our way.
)

Heracles bounded up the steps, already grasping what Jackie had in mind. (
I’ll go OOB to get the exact visuals ready—I have a very broad range, and an ability to view two or three places at once, so be prepared for a little bit of disorientation,
) he broadcast to everyone still in the hall. Even the Elite Guards gasped and fumbled midway through hustling the Empress out of the ancient throne room. (
Jackie, remember to shove the illusion past that temple-thing behind you! Everyone else, get your assets up here and concentrate on
giving your power
to the Ambassador!
)

“Te-los!” Hana’ka called out, struggling against the Guards. Both her husband and her two sons were ignoring the Guards’ attempts to get them to leave—Li’eth was in fact holding them off telekinetically.

“I
have
to help!” the Imperial Consort shouted back. “Go!
Get her out of here!
”

(
To me!
) Jackie ordered, and dropped to her knees. Dropped everyone to their knees around her. With Li’eth at her side, shifting his telekinetic dome over their group of no more than a dozen and a half psis at most, Human and Solarican and Tlassian alike, and with Clees straining his mind upward, linking to Jackie an exact aerial view of the Winter City, Jackie threw her mind up and out, and
shifted
that image westward.

Her task was nearly impossible. Winter City was home to millions, sporting thousands of skyscraping buildings over two dozen kilometers to the north and south, and half a dozen east and west. Nearly impossible, indeed . . . until the woman who called herself To-mi Kuna’mi knelt at Li’eth and Jackie’s backs, and placed her hands on both of them. Abruptly, dizzyingly abruptly, Jackie had enough power to cover
twice
as much terrain . . . and shoved the image of all of it westward by ten kilometers, stretching out the “wilderness” east of the capital with a patchwork illusion extending what was already there.

Li’eth reached up and out, too, but he shoved against actual matter, not reflected light. Most of the missiles swerved westward in a subtle diagonal as they came down. It meant, however, releasing his dome over the palace itself, because he still was not trained well enough to both protect
and
make scores of incoming warheads shift direction.

As it was, his efforts were almost too little, too late. Through one of the viewpoints Clees was feeding them, they could see a scorching line of laserfire stabbing down through the clouds. It sliced straight through the now-hard-humming shields outside, and the humming shut off a scant second before three explosions, two of them
very
close, rattled the heavy flagstones of the Winter Palace, while the third hit farther away. More explosions echoed faintly in the distance, a
lot
more, but they, too, receded and faded as the Salik weapons, forced to rely upon visual targets, shifted westward from their original
impact sites, lured by that holokinetic city sprawling in solid-seeming comfort out over the actual bay.

How long they held the shield, Jackie could not have said. She and the others relied upon Heracles’ real-time inner vision; with each impact, she blackened the city with smoke and fire and damaged structures, imperfectly envisioned, hurriedly sculpted and placed. It would not stand up to any close scrutiny, but it was far better than letting the “buildings” survive each impact visually unscathed.

They did hold it, until the Salik Fleet became fully engaged and could no longer spare the munitions to attack the surface of the planet. Terran ships, the size of wasps trying to sting horse-sized enemy warships, joined the fight as best they could, darting in and out, shooting lasers, slinging missiles, and making nuisances of themselves far out of proportion to their size and the power of their armaments. Particularly when Clees’ now upward-turned vision spotted the huge white blasts of spare hyperrelay probes being sacrificed as hydrobombs, by being slung out of their cargo bays toward the enemy vessels.

That
shook the enemy. Shook them hard and ripped giant holes in their ships. As Clees sent back to the others what he saw while he floated out of body in orbit over the capital, they could tell exactly when a relay probe was about to hit, by the abrupt shying-away of every V’Dan vessel near that target. The hydrobomb capabilities on those probes were strong enough even at a distance to blow holes that chewed off 12, even 20 percent of each of those five-lobed warships, and over half on a direct hit.

No, the Salik could no longer spare any attention for the surface of the V’Dan homeworld. Satisfied, Clees sank back into his body. Exhausted, Jackie stopped projecting the altered coastline. The moment she ended the mass Gestalt, almost everyone slumped flat on the floor around her. Li’eth leaned into her, his weight and hers counterbalancing each other. To-mi—the Immortal—gently removed her hands, and sent a private thought to the two of them.

(
Thank you for saving this palace. I was told you would. Just as I was told in my history lessons that things should turn out alright in the end, though not always in the clearest details of how,
) she added. (
But I need to get out of here before anyone
thinks to question why an “ungifted” doctor was so eager to help a bunch of holy ones save the city.
)

Li’eth didn’t bother to open his eyes. (
Because you
are
a doctor, a medical doctor. So do what a doctor
does
, and start checking over our vital signs. Even our own holy teachings have warned publicly about the overuse of gifts causing the holy users to collapse.
)

(
Don’t sass your elder, young man. Even if it is a brilliant idea.
) Shifting her weight, she checked their pulses, then started moving around to the others, checking a wrist here, a throat there, and some spot on an inner leg joint for the one K’Katta who had joined them.

A few of the Elites came looking for them, but at Dr. Kuna’mi’s insistent request, they ran off to fetch blankets and hot sweet drinks for the drained psis, to shelter them against any possible onset of shock while they recovered. One of the Guard murmured in regret-filled tones that one of the two nearest missile impacts had dropped a chunk of wall on top of the Empress; she had been rescued and rushed to the palace infirmary, but it didn’t look good.

Te-los immediately lurched to his feet, demanding Elite assistance in getting to his mate. Li’eth chose to remain, as did Balei’in, just in case the enemy managed to start attacking the surface again. Jackie could tell that her Gestalt partner remained partly for her sake, and partly because both of them were so drained, he couldn’t have summoned a scrap of biokinesis to save anything but his own life or hers, and only that much out of sheer survival instinct. Instead, she just hugged him close, giving her partner physical comfort as well as mental support, to cushion his deep fears about his mother’s health.

The Elite weren’t done with their report, however, and their other news was equally grim. The third explosion had struck the North Embassy Wing. The Elite giving them the information said sympathetically that the Guard were doing their best to organize search-and-rescue efforts, but that it probably would be best for Jackie and her Terran companions to wait right where they were while rescue crews searched for and dug out any of her people who had been trapped, injured, or rendered worse by the rubble.

One of the other blasts had short-circuited the power grid
just long enough to make the emergency shelters go into lockdown mode; the people down below were still quite safe—they had communications ability—but they were effectively trapped until the codes were reset, which would still take another hour.