Doomsday minus 503 Earth days.
Several of Daisy Hub’s Shield representatives were already waiting near the shuttle on the landing deck when Townsend arrived carrying Yoko’s and Keiko’s cages. The Humans made an interesting looking group, he had to admit.
Ssalssit essendi was a very special occasion. As instructed at the final briefing meeting, each of them was wearing something formal and fancy to mark it.
Three members of Holchuk’s honor guard from a couple of years earlier were in the party, once more in their warrior garb: Soaring Hawk in feathers and buckskin, with a bone breastplate adorning his chest and red and white stripes painted on his face; Jason Smith in the dress uniform of a Fleet officer, space-black with gold trim; and Hagman covered head to toe in black leather bristling with metal studs, the back of the jacket emblazoned with the image of a skull and the words, “The Devil’s Henchmen”.
The fourth warrior escorting Holchuk had been Lu Xensiu. Lu wasn’t part of the current delegation, but he was represented nonetheless, since Holchuk had borrowed the sensei’s karategi for Townsend to wear. Daisy Hub’s Hak’kor was wrapped in a loose-fitting jacket and trousers of white cotton, the trousers tied with string, the jacket held closed by a carefully knotted black belt displaying five stripes.
Rodrigues, looking trim and very official in his dress grays, now stood in the hatchway of the Bonaventure, shaking his head.
“What?” Townsend demanded.
“Sorry. For just a moment there, I thought you were going to this wedding in your pajamas.”
Drew was saved from having to respond by the sound of the tube car door opening.
Holchuk had talked Teri Mintz into loaning the delegates some of her stage costumes for the ceremony. Now, the Kalufah strutted saucily onto the deck in one of Teri Martin’s most glittery outfits, wearing a naughty expression and a pair of silver things that barely qualified as footwear. The other women had selected equally shiny garments to wear, apparently based on the amount of sequins and gauze that had gone into the making of them. Lydia’s was shocking pink, Vera Beale’s was a familiar-looking light green number, and Tannis Walker’s was a deep blue sprinkled with tiny metallic stars.
Ajda Gray, the Hub’s high speaker, was the last to leave the tube car, dressed in a lustrous red, gold, and purple sari that floated around her legs as she moved.
All conversation halted as she crossed the deck. Apparently unused to being the center of such admiring attention, she blushed and stammered, “My mother packed this into my trunk when I was posted out here. I’d forgotten I even had it until now.”
“Well, it’s absolutely stunning,” Ruby told her. “You, my dear, are going to knock ‘em dead.”
The rest of the delegation — Singh, Gouryas, Oolalong, and O’Malley — had had to settle for the best-fitting parts of the suits ‘Mom’ had put together for the Daisy Hub Powwow to wear a couple of years earlier, when the five-piece band had backed Teri up during her show for the Rangers. The musicians’ costumes were almost as sparkly as the ones the women were wearing.
“I feel like an idiot,” grumbled O’Malley, plucking at the sleeve of his jacket.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “It’s just for a few hours, Rob,” she said sharply, “so buck up and quit complaining.”
About to reply, he stopped abruptly and pointed behind her instead.
A Nandrian warrior appeared to be walking toward them, clad in jointed upper-body armor and a long black tabard bearing the insignia of House Trokerk worked in shiny metallic thread. A closer look revealed Holchuk’s features behind the bronze face plating.
Rodrigues let out a low whistle.
Holchuk acknowledged it with a nod, explaining, “For purposes of this ceremony, I’m part of the Fifth Shield of House Trokerk. If everyone is here, we shouldn’t keep the Hak’kor waiting.” And, falling easily into his role, he proceeded to shepherd the others aboard the shuttle.
—— «» ——
The Hak’kor’s ship was gigantic. With all its weapons retracted, it resembled an irregular block of slate suspended in space. Even at a distance, it projected a powerful, menacing presence that made Townsend’s skin prickle. And the Bonaventure was carrying him directly toward it.
Remembering what was at stake did nothing to quell the unease he was feeling, but it did stiffen his resolve not to disgrace the position he now held. Daisy Hub might be the smallest House in existence, but he was its Hak’kor, he reminded himself, and he needed to act like one.
A rectangular opening appeared on one of the ship’s surfaces as they approached. As instructed by the voice on his comm, Rodrigues flew through it, set down on one of the lighted squares on the landing deck, and shut off his engines. The square immediately began to sink, carrying the shuttle down to the hangar deck. This space was immense. Gazing through the forward viewport, Townsend counted at least thirty craft, most of them fighters, already parked in straight lines. Those were just the ones that he could see.
When the Bonaventure finally stopped moving, her passengers had no choice but to debark. They left one at a time, hampered by their impractical clothing and shivering a little in the chilly air. Rodrigues was the last to go. He handed down the cages, Yoko’s to Ruby and Keiko’s to Ajda, before jumping down to join the others. For several endless seconds they stood, fifteen Humans and two rats, on the cold, gray, silent deck.
If this was the way a Nandrian welcomed invited guests, Drew hated to think what might await uninvited company.
“Stand tall and take point, boss man,” Holchuk hissed in his ear. “Here comes our escort to the reception chamber.”
Townsend glanced up and saw a phalanx of six Nandrian warriors marching toward him. Like Holchuk, they were clad in armor beneath a black tabard denoting their House. However, these tabards had rich red linings and shiny silver clasps, and each warrior kept a hand gripped around the pommel of a scimitar-like weapon that Drew guessed was anything but ceremonial. At the sight of all that sharp metal, the knot already filling his midsection turned to ice. There had to be a script for this situation, but he sure as hell hadn’t seen it.
“Holchuk?” he murmured urgently.
“And this is why I’m in the party,” the other man murmured back. Addressing their escorts, he announced, “I present to you the Shields of House Daisy Hub. They are here at the Hak’kor’s invitation, to complete ssalssit essendi. Please honor the Hak’kor by bringing his guests into his presence.”
“Welcome, Shields of Daisy Hub,” declared one of the warriors. “Do you carry weapons?”
Holchuk had warned him about this. Bringing a weapon aboard any Nandrian ship constituted a challenge. Bringing one to ssalssit essendi was an insult punishable by death. There was only one safe answer to this question — it was a scripted reply — and Townsend made himself as tall as possible before delivering it, word for word.
“We would not so dishonor ourselves or House Trokerk,” he declared.
The warrior grunted a syllable of satisfaction. “You will come with us now.”
With practiced speed, the six guards broke into two lines of three. The first pair remained at the front of the group, leading the way. The others took up positions to either side, with one warrior bringing up the rear.
The maze of metal corridors through which they now traveled was as gray and unadorned as the hangar deck had been. Unremittingly hard and flat, these bulkheads and ceilings made a stark, almost painful contrast with the gauze and sparkle of the Humans’ costumes, underscoring the fact that that was all they were — costumes. In a room full of warriors, each wearing his uniform with pride, the Daisy Hub delegation were going to be worse than out of place. They were bringing brashness and glitter to what was supposed to be a solemn occasion. The Hak’kor would be within his rights to take offense, and at least six guards at this event were lethally armed and prepared to avenge his honor.
Townsend’s heart dropped, sinking a little deeper with each rustle of stiff fabric that he heard behind him. A lump rose to replace it in his throat.
When the procession paused at a set of tall doors, he leaned over and whispered to Holchuk, “We look like kids going trick-or-treating at Hallowe’en.”
“Maybe, but the Nandrians have never heard of Hallowe’en. They’ll be focusing on what’s important here, and you need to do the same.”
Right. What was important was convincing the most powerful being on this ship that Daisy Hub would be a trustworthy ally, even though its leader and crew were a bunch of mavericks incapable of following so much as a simple dress code.
With that thought came a flash of insight, so strong that Townsend almost misstepped. Like a blind man given back his eyes, all at once he understood what Holchuk had been talking about. Trokerk’s Chief Officers reported directly to the First Shield. That meant the Hak’kor already knew that the Humans on the Hub had trouble following the rules. In fact, he probably expected them to be broken today. He wasn’t looking for warriors to swell his forces. He wanted the alliance for a totally different reason, perhaps the one Agnosk had earlier suggested, or perhaps something else. In any case, it didn’t matter what the Humans were wearing. What mattered was what Townsend did and said next.
As the portals swung inward, he straightened his back and expanded his chest. “I’ve got this,” he declared to no one in particular. Then he strode past the honor guard, leading his party over the threshold.
The reception chamber was another huge, vaulted space, but that was all it had in common with the rest of the ship. Here, the ceiling was supported by thick pillars made of something luminescent that imparted a golden warmth to the room and made the wood beneath their feet look much softer than it felt. The walls were brick red and seemed to flow, as though they were arteries containing the life blood of the ship.
Before that thought could sink in far enough to be disturbing, Townsend’s attention was captured by the raised dais at the far end of the chamber. Rows of armored Nandrian warriors stood to either side, clad in tabards that reflected the colors and insignias of their various Houses.
If any of them thought the Humans were oddly dressed, they gave no sign. In fact, they stood so still they might have been statues.
“Time to spread out the group and pick up our tseritsa,” Holchuk murmured.
Obediently, Townsend gave the order. Ruby and Ajda took their places on opposite sides of him while the rest formed a line behind them. At his signal, Yoko’s cage was opened. O’Malley leaned over and spoke softly to her, and she strolled out onto the deck. Looking both ways as though crossing a road, she then made her way to Townsend’s right foot, where she sat back on her haunches, facing forward with her head held high. In that position, she was an impressive twenty centimeters tall.
A moment later, the other Hak’kor entered with the living staff in hand, leading his own Kalufah and high speaker. Instantly, all the members of House Trokerk, including Holchuk, dropped to a knee to show respect. The other warriors remained standing.
“What now?” came Oolalong’s urgent whisper. “Are we supposed to kneel too?”
“No,” Townsend replied. “An ally is a friend, not a servant. I’m here as his equal, and the rest of you are here as theirs. If you kneel to anyone, it’s to me, and we all know what the odds are of that ever happening.”
The Hak’kor stood motionless, staring straight at him. Easily the oldest Nandrian in the room, he was also the only one not wearing armor. He was wrapped in a long brown cloak that looked like suede, and in place of facial plating he had a band of gem-studded leather that crossed his brow and hung down his cheeks.
Drew stole a glance at Yoko. Daisy Hub’s tseritsa remained bravely erect. Its Hak’kor could do no less. He held his head high and met the Nandrian’s gaze.
After a beat, the Hak’kor of Trokerk began to speak:
“Welcome, House Daisy Hub, to ssalssit essendi. It is not our custom to join with off-worlders. However, you have demonstrated great honor and have earned the respect of our warriors. Therefore, we have decided to proceed with the ceremony. We welcome the other Houses who have come here to witness the completion of the ritual, and to commit themselves to honoring the alliance that will be sealed this day between Trokerk and Daisy Hub.
“There is great benefit for Daisy Hub in joining with House Trokerk. We promise to defend your House and all its members. We will defend your property. We will defend your lives. And we will defend your honor, as you have defended ours.”
“Do you think they know about Sillurv’s little trick with the toast?” Lydia murmured.
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Ruby murmured back. “It’s more likely he’s referring to Rostol, and the Alison Morgan incident.”
“Sssh!” Holchuk shushed them.
“We also pledge to protect others of your race, wherever we may encounter them. We will respond immediately to any call for help from Daisy Hub. We will share our resources with you. And we will do everything in our power to ensure that you and your House remain free and out of danger.”
“Isn’t that Karlov’s job?” whispered O’Malley.
Holchuk shot him a dirty look.
“Is it my imagination, or are we getting an abridged version of the Hak’kor’s speech?” Ruby asked softly.
The question had briefly entered Townsend’s mind as well. It almost appeared that the Humans had been expected to misbehave, and that keeping the ceremony short was a way to prevent them from spoiling it. At the thought of his people being treated like ill-mannered children, Drew found himself torn between indignation and something like relief.
Abruptly, the Hak’kor fell silent.
“Your turn, boss man,” Holchuk hissed at him. “Make it a good one.”
Townsend threw his shoulders back and drew a huge breath.
“Great Hak’kor, esteemed Kalufah, wise High Speaker of House Trokerk, and mighty warriors, here to witness our ssalssit essendi, we of House Daisy Hub are honored to be in your presence.”
So far, so good. Holchuk had written him an excellent introduction. As for the rest of the speech…
“I am Drew Townsend, son of David, Hak’kor of House Daisy Hub. As I know some of you are aware, we Humans are a very curious race. We love solving mysteries and puzzles, and we have a deep-seated need to find answers to our questions. One question that had been haunting me ever since Trokerk decided that we should form this alliance was: Why?”
“Gavin, did you write this?” Lydia demanded in an undertone.
“Nope. He’s winging it,” came the murmured response. “I think I know where he’s going with it, though. Keep your fingers crossed that he’s right.”
“Oy, vey,” Tannis Walker sighed.
Ignoring them, Drew continued, addressing the Hak’kor: “Nandrians are the fiercest and most feared warriors in the galaxy. We are clearly not your equal in strength and firepower. In a battle situation, we might even be a liability. And yet, you want us on your side. Why?”
“What the hell?” Jason Smith wondered softly.
“Get ready to run,” muttered Hagman.
“Not in these shoes,” Ruby muttered back.
Townsend was on a roll now. “An alliance is more than a favor. If you wanted to help us defend ourselves from an enemy like the Corvou, you could simply offer assistance. It would be gratefully accepted and the favor returned at another time. No alliance necessary. And yet you asked for one. Why? What do we have that you feel you need?
“I am happy to tell you that I have finally found the answer to this question, and that it speaks well of House Trokerk and, indeed, of all Nandrians. In order to become the great warriors that you are, you have given up a lot — not because you wanted to, but because you were forced to. You had to recreate your society, imposing strict discipline and an unyielding warrior’s code. In short, you had to abandon everything that had made you Serrusshan.”
The room went deathly still. Had that been privileged information? Too late…
“I believe you see many Serrusshan values in Humanity. Besides being inquisitive and seeking for answers, we are creative and spontaneous. We have fun. We link enjoyment to learning. We also test boundaries. We bend and sometimes break the rules, if the cause is just and the need sufficiently great. I believe that joining our two Houses gives you something you would otherwise not have — a chance to restore the side of your nature that you were forced to sacrifice so long ago.
“And so, I make you this promise: once our alliance is cemented, the members of House Daisy Hub will always respect the prowess of your warriors, the authority of your First Shield, and the wisdom of your high speaker. We will never knowingly do or say anything that might diminish the respect that others have for you. We will continue to understand and respect your laws, and will expect Nandrian visitors to our House to do so as well. At the same time, we will proudly demonstrate Human values and provide opportunities for your warriors to experience them too, in this way letting them take back part of their Serrusshan heritage.”
There was utter silence when he finished speaking, on both sides of the room. Not a single Nandrian made a sound or twitched a muscle. For several heartbeats, Drew held his breath, aware that every Human around him was doing the same. Then, unexpectedly, he heard what sounded like a series of drum beats. It took a moment for his brain to identify it as the living staff being pounded repeatedly and vigorously on the deck.
“The Humans understand!” the Hak’kor declared. “We proceed with the ritual. I present to you the Kalufah of House Trokerk.”
This Nandrian stepped forward and announced to the room, “I am Atrask ban Mitoram, First Shield of House Trokerk, and I vow before the witnesses here present to respect and uphold the alliance between Trokerk and House Daisy Hub. I will honor Daisy Hub’s Hak’kor as I do my own, and I will stay true to the terms agreed upon today, for as long as I live.”
“Remember, Ruby,” Holchuk whispered, “you have to say it back to them word for word.”
“I know,” she replied impatiently. “You’ve only told me a dozen times.”
Townsend threw them both a questioning look.
Ruby signaled that she was ready.
Facing the Nandrians once more, Drew said loudly, “And I present to you the Kalufah of House Daisy Hub.”
Ruby stepped forward, her chin at a haughty angle. “I am Ruby McNeil, daughter of Debra, First Shield of House Daisy Hub, and I vow before the witnesses here present to respect and uphold the alliance between Trokerk and House Daisy Hub. I will honor Trokerk’s Hak’kor as I do my own and stay true to the terms agreed upon today, for as long as I live.”
One by one, first from Trokerk and then from Daisy Hub, the Shield representatives swore loyalty to the alliance, parroting the language used by the Kalufah. Then it was the turn of the witnesses from the other Houses: Voll, Oustex, Mist, Ammon … thirty-nine in all. Each of the representatives’ speeches was short and sweet as well. Clearly, every Nandrian House had a read on the Humans, and an interest in helping the proceedings along to a smooth and speedy conclusion.
The rest of the ceremony followed pretty much as Karlov had described, with the presentation of Keiko to the Hak’kor and another round of speeches — mercifully, just as abbreviated as the previous ones — recognizing her as the tseritsa of House Daisy Hub and the living staff as Trokerk’s sacred symbol, and promising to protect and care for both of them for as long as the Houses of Nandor existed, amen.
Fortunately, the ritual did not require Keiko to be removed from her cage. Ajda had the honor of crossing the floor and handing it off to Trokerk’s high speaker. She had also been instructed to pass along the Doc’s warning about the effects of the stasis drug on small animals, immortal or not.
Without warning, the living staff was thumped loudly on the floor again, demanding everyone’s attention. Into the resulting silence, the Hak’kor proclaimed, “And now we feast!”
Holchuk leaned in and said with a smile in his voice, “No parade today, boss man. But we still get to make a spectacle of ourselves. Wait until you see what’s on the menu at this banquet.”
Recalling Holchuk’s deplorable condition following the feast to celebrate his adoption into the Fifth Shield, Townsend asked, “Can we beg off?”
“That would be an insult to their hospitality — a fatal mistake. But their food is survivable, and it’s not so bad after you’ve drunk half a bottle of whiskey.”
“Did you say half a bottle?” Rodrigues chimed in, alarmed. “They’re all going to get toxed?”
“No, but we are. Nandrians get toxed on citric acid, not alcohol,” Holchuk pointed out, “and the Hak’kor’s favorite Human beverage is vanilla-flavored whiskey. The more of it you drink, the better the meal will taste. Trust me, I’ve been there. And the more you seem to be enjoying the cuisine, the more complimented he’ll feel as a host, and the more predisposed to grant whatever favor our Hak’kor has decided to ask for.”
“Wait a second,” said Townsend, frowning. “The exchange of favors happens at the end of the banquet, when I’m seeing in triplicate and he’s stone cold sober?”
“I think it’s our turn, Chief.”
At Ruby’s prompting, Townsend glanced up and saw the last of the Trokerk contingent marching out of the ceremonial chamber. The representatives of the other Houses remained stolidly in place, evidently waiting for Daisy Hub to leave next. Yoko was ready. The word “feast” had sent her scurrying back to the safety of her cage.
Drawing himself up to his full height, Drew bravely led his crew to whatever awaited them in the Hak’kor’s banquet hall.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 502 Earth days.
Eight hours later, a thoroughly disgusted Ranger Captain Paul Rodrigues was fighting to ignore the retching and moaning sounds coming from the passenger cabin behind him as he brought the Bonaventure to as gentle a halt as possible on Daisy Hub’s landing deck. As he’d requested while en route, medical personnel were waiting behind the inner doors to help his fourteen passengers debark.
As soon as the deck was normalized, green-coated crew members converged on the shuttle with anti-grav gurneys, stomach sedatives, and purgatives. The Doc was the first person to climb aboard when Rodrigues opened the hatch. He left the cockpit and went aft to meet her.
For a moment, she was struck speechless. Then, “What a mess!” she declared, wrinkling her nose and slowly shaking her head. “You’re certain they’re all alive?”
“They were when I carried them aboard.”
Ktumba closed her eyes for several heartbeats. When they reopened, they held the clinical gaze of an objective and experienced physician. “We’ll need to get them down to Med Services. I’ll examine each one there. Meanwhile, I’ll have a decon team assembled to clean and disinfect this cabin before you fly back to Zulu.”
“Hey, there, Doc!” This slurred greeting came from Orvy Hagman. Wearing a big, goofy grin, he raised his arm and gave her a limp-wristed wave. “You missed one hell of a great party!”
She turned and stared accusingly at Rodrigues. “They’re toxed? From your description on the comm, I thought they’d all been poisoned.”
“They probably have been,” he replied grimly. “As their pilot, I couldn’t drink, and as soon as I saw what was on the table I put myself on guard duty so I wouldn’t have to eat, either. The Nandrians were scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow, but it sure didn’t look like food to me.”
Hagman was on his feet now, being helped to the exit by two orderlies. “It really wasn’t that bad,” he said, letting out a loud, malodorous belch before concluding, “once it stopped moving.”
“I imagine everything’s moving for him right now,” Rodrigues remarked.
“Inside and out,” Townsend agreed.
One of the few Humans who’d still been able to walk without support as the festivities wound down, the Hak’kor of Daisy Hub now unclasped his safety harness, stood up, and stepped with exaggerated care over the sprawling limbs of three members of his delegation in order to join the conversation. It took all of Rodrigues’s self-control not to react as the other man spoke — Townsend’s breath was strong enough to knock over the entire Zulu detachment. Judging by the face he made each time he burped, the taste of it was even worse.
“We had no choice but to eat their food. Couldn’t risk insulting their hospitality. But Holchuk was right. A sip of whiskey with each mouthful did make it go down more easily.”
“And where is Yoko?” she demanded.
“Over there.” He pointed to the cage tucked away in a corner. “She passed out halfway through the banquet. Couldn’t hold her liquor, I guess.”
The Doc rounded on him. “You gave whiskey to our rat?” she exclaimed.
“Nobody gave it to her. She took it. Waddled up and down the table stealing drinks from everyone’s mugs. The Nandrians thought this was hugely entertaining. They kept their glasses topped up to make it easier for her.”
“I guess the important thing is, have we got our alliance?” said the Doc.
“The Nandrians love us,” he assured her. “It stinks in here. Let’s get some air.”
With Ktumba and Rodrigues steadying him on either side, Townsend made it safely onto the deck.
Abruptly, he stiffened and stared. Rodrigues followed his gaze, then did a double take.
There was an empty space on the landing deck where the Corvou fighter should have been parked. It hadn’t simply been moved to another spot. The ship was gone.
Feeling a tightness in his temples — a sure sign of rising blood pressure — Rodrigues cursed silently. He should have expected this. After all, Townsend had purposely picked his most responsible crew members to represent the Hub at the ceremony, leaving behind a bunch of undisciplined mavericks with a shiny new toy. Of course they had to play with it!
“Where is the alien ship, Doctor?” he demanded.
Before she could respond, Jason Smith raised his head from a gurney to complain groggily, “He left without me? That’s not right, Mr. Townsend. You picked me for the mission too.”
Wait — there was a mission?
Rodrigues stared an accusation at the station manager. Townsend didn’t reply, but his face lost three shades of color, and he looked as though he was fighting not to throw up.
That was answer enough.
Rodrigues leaned closer and scolded softly, “After what we discussed, after what I specifically told you, you still sent your people off somewhere with the only real weapon we’ve got against the Corvou? What are we supposed to do if they don’t come back?”
“They weren’t my people, as you put it,” he replied unsteadily. “They were aliens. Karlov and Odysseus. And I was expecting them to wait until I got back.”
Now the Ranger’s eyeballs were aching. Rodrigues wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that there was a mission or the beings who were on it. “Dammit, Townsend,” he grated, “we agreed to work together! You can’t go mounting missions behind my back, and especially not—”
“That’s enough, Captain,” Ktumba informed him icily. “Mr. Townsend may be in better shape than most of his party, but that’s not saying much. I’m ordering recuperative bed rest for him, first in Med Services and then in his quarters. When I’ve certified him fit to resume his duties as station manager, the two of you can pick up this argument where you left off. Until then, he’s my patient, and I don’t want him having to deal with any additional stress.”
With that, her jaw snapped shut, her chin went up, and she sent a piercing look straight into his face and probably out the back of his head. Ktumba was not a small woman. Rodrigues had heard her described as someone who projected enough authority to stop a charging rhino in its tracks. In that moment, he believed it.
“You’ll want to stay with your ship until the decon team arrives. Meanwhile, my staff can escort your passengers to where they need to be,” she continued. “Thank you for bringing them home safely. We’ll take it from here.”
Reluctantly, he took a mental step backward. Fine, then, he decided. He could wait to take his satisfaction out of Townsend’s hide. Fortunately for both of them, he didn’t dare report any of this to the EIS until the Corvou fighter returned to the Hub.