The Marann Read online

  She turned her head and tilted it from side to side. “Not at all.”

  He put a step stool below her feet. “Get up slowly,” he ordered. He kept one hand on her shoulder and gripped her arm with the other.

  “I’m all right,” Marianne protested as she stepped down onto the floor.

  “It’s my job to make sure.” He dropped the hand from her shoulder, but kept a firm grip on her elbow. “Especially with those heels. You know those are bad for your back?”

  She laughed. “So I’ve heard,” she answered. “But I have strong calf muscles. I’m a runner.”

  The nurse made a rude noise. “That doesn’t matter, but I don’t expect you to believe it, not with that smug look on your face.” He laughed.

  The door hissed open. An Earth Fleet officer in khaki stood in the doorway, smiling and bouncing on her heels.

  “Citizen Woolsey?” she asked.

  “Now this young woman is wearing sensible shoes,” the nurse said.

  She laughed. “I’m on duty, sir,” she said, flashing a friendly grin. “You should see what I was wearing at The Elbow Room last night.” She turned to Marianne with a conspiratorial wink, her hands measuring the height of the heels she’d worn. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” she said, extending a hand. “Sarah Carver, Lieutenant, Third Fleet. I’ve come to escort you to the Alexander.”

  Marianne shook the hand, smiling back at her. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “If you would come with me, please?” The lieutenant led her back to the outer ring and into the naval docks, passing through several security checkpoints along the way. She never stopped chattering.

  “I understand it’s your first trip off-planet,” the lieutenant said as they passed through a final checkpoint. “How do you like it?”

  “It’s amazing,” Marianne answered, pointing at the starscape out a viewport.

  “I love it out here,” the young woman said. “I love this job.”

  “Do you meet many aliens?”

  “All the time. Mostly Terosha, because their federation is so close to Earth space. And the odd Kekrax, of course—they’re everywhere.” Her nose wrinkled.

  “Do they smell as bad as people say?”

  “Oh, not really,” she scoffed. “That’s just media hype. Most people enjoy having them around. Sometimes they even smell pleasant, and they’re kind of comical.”

  She stopped at an airlock guarded by two armed marines, who came to attention as they approached.

  “Here we are, ma’am.” She inflated. “The CCS Alexander, best ship in the fleet. After you.” She tapped a panel on the wall, and the airlock’s outer doors slid open.

  The Central Command Ship Alexander, Marianne discovered as the cheerful lieutenant chattered, wasn’t just the best ship in the fleet, it was the flagship of the Third Fleet, with a full admiral on board. The lieutenant’s orders had included escorting Marianne to the Admiral’s ready room as soon as she set foot on board.

  Two couples rose from seats at a long conference table to greet Marianne when the lieutenant showed her in. Viewports lined one wall, offering a stunning view of the planet below, and a presentation screen filled the space beside her at the door. An elegant sideboard graced the wall opposite the viewports.

  The Admiral, a trim man with graying hair that obeyed military standards of neatness, stood at the head of the table. A middle-aged woman in a high-waisted gown of cream-colored silk velvet rested a hand on his right arm. A blocky gentleman, in the formal gray of the diplomatic corps and hair the same color tied back in a black ribbon, stood on his left with a much younger woman in a gown of deep rose silk. Marianne waited just inside the door, clutching her carryall and glancing down at the modern—and more practical—blouse and skirt she wore. Central Command’s clothing allowance had been generous, but not that generous. The Old Regency style of dress in vogue with the upper classes had cost far too much to consider.

  The Admiral came forward, extending a hand with a warm smile.

  “Citizen Woolsey.” He gave her hand a firm shake. “Welcome to the Alexander. I’m John Howard. This is my wife, Laura, and Ambassador Smithton Russell and his wife Adeline. I trust you had a pleasant voyage out?”

  Marianne shook hands with them all. “I wish I’d had time to look around the station a little. I would have loved a souvenir.”

  The Admiral’s smile turned regretful. “My orders are to get you to Tolar with no further delay. Central Command is in an all-fired hurry, and I’m afraid sight-seeing and souvenir-shopping weren’t on the approved activities list.” He chuckled. “But please, have a seat. We were just discussing you and your assignment.”

  Marianne took the indicated chair. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

  “No, no,” he answered with another chuckle. “What’s your poison? Coffee? Tea? Juice or soda?”

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

  The Admiral punched a button at the head of the conference table. A young man who looked no more than eighteen entered the room and served tea in a delicate china cup with the Earth Fleet insignia on it. After placing a carafe on the sideboard, he gave the Admiral a crisp salute and left the room.

  Marianne wrapped her fingers around the cup’s handle and fixed her gaze on her host. He seemed friendly enough, but the authoritative air he wore and the confidence he radiated suggested he was not a man to be trifled with. “So when do we leave for Beta Hydri?” she asked, taking a sip of the tea. Its delicate flavor spread across her tongue. From New Spain, she thought, or perhaps Britannia. It was good. Very good.

  “We’ve been under way since that door closed behind you,” the Admiral replied.

  Marianne choked a little in surprise and spluttered. With her back to the viewports, she hadn’t felt or heard anything to indicate the ship had left its mooring at the station.

  “Damn fine crew,” he said with a satisfied smile. He poured himself some coffee and took a seat. “Now, bring me up to speed with where you are. What do you know about what you’re getting into on Tolar?”

  Marianne took another sip of tea. “I’m going to be teaching in the Middle Ages,” she said, unable to keep her lips from twitching. Laughter rang around the room.

  “Good,” the Admiral said. “Keep that sense of humor—you’re going to need it.”

  “Alone on an alien planet, I just bet.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Adeline said. “They look just like us, and their leader, the Sural, seems well-educated, at least for a primitive.”

  “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 exhilarate
d 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.