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Chapter 2
The lander had been out of sight for several minutes before Allyah regained her control, took a deep breath, and allowed the environmental suit to dry the tears on her face. She looked around at the barren landscape of unrelieved whiteness that was broken only by varying shades of gray shadows lying against tumbled mounds of snow and ice.
Just beyond the landing site, crusted drifts climbed the sides of huge, ice-covered boulders, forming the frozen waves of a cold, white sea, washing the land to the base of distant twin volcanoes. To her right and left, the land was flat, with only a few small, boulders evident, as though some giant broom had swept the land clear, to the rising slope of far-off volcanic cones in both directions. Light from the bright, yellow sun high above glanced and sparkled through icy projections on the wide expanse like sunlight on blue diamonds; the round white boulders looked like scattered pearls, lying lustrous and shining on white velvet.
Gradually, the majestic beauty of her surroundings took hold of her mind and heart, releasing the sense of fear and abandonment that had filled her when she watched her only contact with civilization ascend beyond her vision. The cold whiteness held a quiet purity unknown on bustling city worlds crammed with teeming life. This was a place of ancient elegance and stark reality—a place where lost connections to an inner being could be resculpted. Allyah felt a tightness ease that she hadn't realized was there, a knot of deep down tension she recognized as the shell she always wore to protect herself against hurt.
With a feeling that was almost—but not quite—contentment, Allyah resettled the drag ropes and turned toward the shoodah. Leaning forward against the ropes, shoulder and leg muscles straining, step by weary step, she moved the load closer to her destination. The high friction shoes of the environmental suit gave her traction, but they didn't help much against the inertia of the heavy mass.
Having covered half of the 300 meters to the building mounds, Allyah suddenly saw a group of about a dozen small humanoids approaching. Startled, she stood upright, waiting as they neared. The Mishka were waist high to Allyah and covered with short, softly curling, white hair that blended into the landscape so well she hadn't seen them until they were only a few meters away. With gentle, delicate hands and no words, they took the drag ropes courteously from her and quickly slid the heavy burden across the ice, some of them pulling and some pushing. Much to her relief, they appeared eager to help move the burden to the shoodah, and, with only a little trepidation, Allyah hurried to catch up. She saw no hint of the hostility McKinley had suggested; instead she felt a sense of comfort and safety.
The ice ended sharply at the edge of a beautiful stone stairway leading down to the wide metal doors of a stone building set deep into the frozen surface, its rounded roof covered with layers of ice and snow.
At the top of the stairs, they stopped to unlash the ropes around her possessions and, with sometimes two or three to a box, carried the load inside. The steps, narrow with short risers, built for small legs and feet, were awkward for Allyah as she carefully descended and entered through the open doorway after the Mishka.
She found a shallow storage area stacked on either side with Galactic Union labeled supplies, and, ahead of her, a set of doors made of a smooth, dark wood that could never have grown on this planet opened into a huge room with separate living areas, divided by head high partitions covered with rich fabrics. To Allyah's amazement, the room held all the comforts of a modern home. On the right was a kitchen, complete with autochef, recycler, and the latest model of the Universal Garment Creator. To her left was a laboratory, well stocked with electronic equipment, where McKinley must have done the analysis for his reports. Walking down the wide, empty aisle in the center of the room, she found a comfortable lounge area on the right with a deep cushioned sofa, a bar, and an entertainment center; to the left, an office with desk and communicator; a sleeping area in the far left corner; and the walls of a refresher unit in the corner on the right. There were no windows, but each area was lit by ordinary glowtubes suspended on long cables from the high ceiling. Allyah's environmental suit registered a comfortable external temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit.
She pulled off her headpiece, shaking loose her short, brown curls, and turned toward the Mishka. They all stood near the closed front door by her belongings, their huge, round eyes watching her expectantly. Three of them stepped forward as she came back, and Allyah studied the tiny faces turned up to her. Surrounded by thick white lashes, their eyes were disproportionately large and very blue, above a delicate, almost human nose and pale lips. The hair covering their faces was short, almost like fuzz, gradually lengthening and curling over the tops of round, furry ears perched attentively atop each side of the head.
In a soft, breathy voice, the center female said in perfect Union Standard, "Welcome to this planet," and, placing a small hand on her chest, added, "This Mishka gives greetings."
All of them bobbed down and up at the knees in a surprisingly graceful half squat.
McKinley's notes indicated they were unable to understand most instructions and had difficulty with communicating, but Allyah had no trouble understanding the little Mishka. Recovering from her surprise, she replied, also in Standard, giving the canned greeting of the First Contact Ambassador. She spoke with heartfelt sincerity, realizing this was the first time . . . ever . . . that she had uttered these words on an alien world.
"I bid you greetings, on behalf of the Galactic Union and the Galactic Union Director, Robert Atherton. We thank you for the honor of allowing us to visit your world and to learn about your people and your culture. It is our hope that you will grant us the privilege of introducing you to our people and our way of life, in order that we may move into the future in peace and harmony with one another." She bent her knees in the way she had seen them do.
There was a rustle of movement among them that could have been alarm. Fearing she had misinterpreted the gesture, Allyah spoke quickly, raising her hand beseechingly.
"Please, forgive me if I have given any offense. It is not my intention to offer insult, only to learn from you. Please inform me if I ever do or say anything inappropriate."
The middle Mishka said, "Nothing was done wrong. This," and she repeated the bob, "is a sign of respect from one lower to another higher. The Mishka were not expecting it from this McKinley."
Were they unable to distinguish one human from another? Allyah wondered. Hoping she was interpreting the Mishka's response correctly, Allyah bobbed again.
"I am here to learn from you and I greet you as a student to a teacher." The Mishka visibly relaxed, and she saw a few of them smile. "I am not McKinley," she said, placing a hand on her own chest, "I am Ambassador Allyah Ahern."
The female struggled to understand, "If you are not McKinley, what is your purpose?" She faltered somewhat on the pronouns, her forehead creasing in a very humanlike frown. Confused, Allyah tried to think. The Mishka must believe she and McKinley were the same in some way, not just of the same species, but that they had the same reasons for being on the planet. That was true, up to a point, but somehow she had to show them she was different from him and wanted to be treated as an individual, not just another version of him.
"Ambassador is what I do," she said, carefully. "Allyah is my individual name and Ahern is my family name."
With a worried glance at the male and female on either side of her, who looked decidedly uncomfortable, the female asked, "Then you are Ambassador?"
"That's right."
This time signs of relief were apparent throughout the group. "Good," the female said and, as though finally satisfied about something, motioned to the group of Mishka standing behind her. They immediately parted, walking around Allyah and down the long central aisle to pass through another dark doorway at the end of the room, the last one closing the door gently behind them.
As they filtered past, Allyah was struck by how similar they were to one another and that she could not have told them apart. Only the first female and her two companions remained.
"This Mishka," she said, tiny hand on her chest, "and that Mishka," pointing to the female on her left, "and that Mishka," indicating the male, "will be here to help."
Feeling as though she had missed something very important, Allyah hesitantly smiled at the trio. "Thank you. I will be grateful for any assistance you can give me." She wasn't sure just what form that help would take, but at least it appeared they weren't yet throwing her out.
Glancing at the gear stacked on the floor, the female said, "That McKinley kept items in this room. Is it appropriate for this Ambassador also to keep items here?"
With relief she realized they intended to let her remain for quite a while. "Yes," she said, knowing McKinley would not be coming back. "I think this would be an ideal place for my things."
As Allyah moved to begin unpacking, the female asked in her soft voice, "Please, is this Ambassador male or female?"
Surprised and somewhat annoyed with herself for not clarifying that in the beginning, she also wondered why McKinley hadn't taught them the outward differences in human sexes. What additional information had he neglected to convey? The Mishka, clothed only in the covering of their own thick body hair, obviously shared humanoid genders.
"I am female," she said with a smile, vowing to make this the first of many lessons on humans. The female also smiled, sharing what seemed to be a significant glance with her companions, as though confirming her own deduction.
Allyah released the seals on the box of electronic equipment and began directing the Mishka where to put each item in the lab area. The first female picked up the portable communicator from the side of the pile where it had been placed when they carried it in.
"This is a communicator," she said.
It didn't look anything like the large one McKinley said had been disabled. "Yes, it is." Allyah reached to take it.
The Mishka held the instrument, saying gently, "This Mishka will retain the communicator." She expertly wrapped the belt around her body, closing the fastener so the communicator rested securely in the center of her chest.
Allyah drew back her hand. She couldn't object—the Mishka had left no room for argument. What would she do when the six hours Jim had stipulated were up?
Carefully framing each sentence before speaking, she said, "This Ambassador must communicate with the ship that brought me here. That McKinley indicated the Mishka might be hostile. My people will be concerned for my safety." Using the individual designations the Mishka seemed to prefer was going to take practice. "I must let them know the Mishka mean me no harm."
Unconcerned, the female said, "The communicator is here," touching it lightly. "This Ambassador may use it whenever necessary."
Not completely happy with this arrangement, Allyah was, nevertheless, relieved that she would still be allowed to use it. She thought about asking now but decided to let it go until all her gear had been unpacked, since the lander had only been gone a couple of hours. She hoped these Mishka would not leave as soon as they were finished, like the others.
As she and the Mishka unpacked items and took them to the proper areas, Allyah became aware of just how much McKinley had imported from Union worlds for his own comfort. Each living area was separated from the others by partitions covered in rich, earth tone fabrics matching the enclosed furnishings. Scattered over the floors were thick, brown, Vegan-fur rugs, so soft and deep Allyah was tempted to lie down on them. Everywhere were tapestries and artwork like she had seen only in museums or in holos of wealthy people's homes. Every piece of the spotlessly clean furniture and equipment was the best that could be bought anywhere. How could he afford this, she wondered, knowing the CIB wouldn't have issued it to him.
The Mishka seemed to need little guidance on where to put things, causing Allyah some uneasiness. Had they investigated everything during McKinley's absences to other parts of the planet—possibly learning more of outworld technology than McKinley suspected? As they worked, she watched for any undue interest in the equipment but couldn't see that they were more than concerned about finding the proper place to store things.
Allyah realized she was hungry when she was stowing supplies in the kitchen. It had been a long time since breakfast and there was still more than half the gear to put away. Identifying the first female by the communicator she carried, she called to her.
"This Ambassador is getting hungry. Let's take a break for lunch." She knew from the holo cubes that human food was compatible with the Mishka.
All three of them stopped what they were doing immediately and came to her. Contritely, the female said, "This Mishka is very sorry. This Ambassador should sit," indicating the lounge area, "and that Mishka," with a hand on the male's arm, "will fix you a beverage, while this Mishka and that Mishka," now indicating herself and the other female, "prepare your meal."
"No," Allyah insisted, "this Ambassador will prepare the meal. This Mishka and that Mishka and that Mishka will sit and be my guests." She herded them to the table where they reluctantly sat, exchanging worried looks.
"Please understand," she said, "you have honored me by allowing me to come to your world. I want to show a little of my appreciation for that honor, and for the help you are giving me, by preparing and sharing a human meal with you."
"But the McKinley said we must serve and obey," the first female said. "The Mishka is lower than the McKinley, and the McKinley said the McKinley is lower than the Union."
Her troubled gaze met Allyah's.
"Is not the Ambassador lower than the Union? Does not the Ambassador serve the Union?" With a sudden look of suspicion she asked, "Does the Ambassador serve the McKinley?"
"No," Allyah said, more sharply than she intended, "the Ambassador does not serve the McKinley, and the McKinley does not serve the Ambassador."
Boy, is this a tail twister, she thought. How could she explain the concept of individual rights to a species who didn't use individual designations?
They were all startled by the buzz of the communicator on the first female's chest, who immediately rose and moved, to stand by Allyah, allowing her to respond.
"Ambassador," Jim's voice was cautious, "I'm glad I could reach you. How are things going?"
"Things are going well, Lieutenant," she glanced at the fuzzy little faces watching her. "The Mishka have been very kind and helpful. I'm inside the building, and we were just unpacking my things."
She spoke cheerfully, trying to reassure him. The Mishka listened with interest to all that was being said, offering neither objection nor encouragement.
"That's wonderful," he said with obvious relief. "Do you have everything you need then?"
In neutral tones, she described the living accommodations she had found when she arrived. From the long pause and his careful reply, she could tell he was nearly as surprised as she was at the luxury McKinley had accumulated on this remote world.
"Sounds like you should be very comfortable, Ambassador," he said dryly. "But I suppose you're wondering why I called you so soon."
"Well, yes," she said, glancing at her wrist chronometer, "as a matter of fact, I was. It's only been three hours."
"It seems Agent McKinley has a pressing engagement several parsecs from here," he said sourly, "and Captain Carstairs has ordered our immediate departure. I wish we could hang around awhile longer in case you need anything, although," he added with just a trace of cynicism, "it sounds like you're better off than I am right now."
She laughed at his joke, sidestepping the real concern in his voice. "I'm quite happy with the way things are going here, Lieutenant. I believe the Mishka and I are about to clear up some misunderstandings they have about our culture. I anticipate a growing respect between us that should heal any hard feelings that may have existed in the past." She hoped that was true. "Thank you for your concern," she said with warmth, "but you can leave planetary space whenever you need. I'll be fine here."
"That was a wonderful speech, Allyah." She heard the smile behind the sarcasm, liking the way he said her name. "Just remember what I told you," he added.
As they disconnected, she wondered if she should have told him who held the communicator. Probably not—that would have been just one more thing for him to worry about. She was sure he understood who was responsible for the misunderstandings, but there wasn't anything that could be done about that now; McKinley was on another assignment and wouldn't be a problem any more. Much later, she would remember thinking this and marvel at her own naiveté.
She decided to wait until after lunch to finish the conversation she and the three Mishka had been having before the call from Jim. She ushered the first female to her chair and then went to the autochef to dial a vegetable stew for each of them. The dishes emerged almost immediately, thick and aromatic, at just the right temperature. Allyah marveled at the speed and quality of this latest model autochef, as she dialed for unleavened flat bread, herbal tea, slightly sweetened, and lemon tarts for dessert.
She placed the meal before each of the Mishka and sat down with them. Placing her napkin in her lap and picking up her spoon, she looked up to find all three of the Mishka watching her, their tiny hands in their laps.
"Please," she said entreatingly, "join me. I know this meal will be safe for you, and I would be honored if you would eat with me."
Smiling at the others, who smiled shyly back, the female picked up her fork, saying wistfully, "The McKinley would not allow the Mishka to eat the human food. The McKinley said the Mishka were not good enough, because the Mishka were servants. The McKinley made the Mishka wait until the Mishka's helping time was done before allowing the Mishka to leave the shoodah to seek meals."
Shock froze Allyah as everything suddenly fell into place. She remembered what the first female had told her about McKinley saying they should serve and obey. No wonder the Mishka didn't trust her—they had been bullied and abused by a monster. These quiet, gentle people had been saddled with a dictator for two long years. She understood why they knew where everything should go; they had been his servants, fetching and carrying at his every whim. She saw his foul behavior on the lander for what it was—McKinley's rage at being dispossessed, a tyrant knocked off his throne.
Well, she was here now, and there would be no more servitude. These people deserved to be treated as equals, to be functioning members of the Galactic Union. She resolved to begin that process, and the healing it would bring, as soon as this meal was finished.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, the Mishka were savoring the food. A taste of the stew, a sample of the tart, a sip of tea, a mouthful of bread—each brought smiles of pleasure. Allyah lifted her spoon to her mouth, forcing her churning stomach to settle and accept the nourishment. She smiled with the Mishka and could have cried at their childlike enjoyment of this delightful new experience.
When they were done eating, the Mishka insisted on helping her put the remains of the meal into the recycler and then finished the unpacking with enthusiasm, in half the time it should have taken. As Allyah worked with them, the first female showed her many things McKinley had that were duplicated by what she brought; in most cases, his were better quality.
Stowing her last personal item in the chest near the bed, Allyah turned to find the Mishka lined up by the back door. The first female said, "The Mishka must leave the Ambassador for a time, in order to speak of things seen and done." She seemed almost sorrowful. "This Mishka is honored to have been allowed to share food with the Ambassador." She bobbed and the others followed suit.
"You're all leaving?" Allyah asked, with something close to panic. "When will you be back?"
"The Mishka will return," was the only answer, as the three disappeared through the door, taking the communicator with them.
To her shame, Allyah tried to follow them, her heart pounding, but the door wouldn't open. She stood leaning against the panel, the warm, fine textured wood against her cheek, and thought about her situation. So this was how they had imprisoned McKinley. She imagined how he would have responded to this locked door, as she idly searched the smooth panel with her fingertips for marks of violence. The hard, dark wood—it looked like the same as was used in the front door—revealed nothing of his undoubted fury. How long had they left him alone? Didn't he say three weeks? Would she be alone that long, too?
Taking a firm grip on her emotions, Allyah pushed herself away from the door. There was plenty to do; she had notes to write about the day's events, she should inventory the items McKinley had left, and she should organize the hundreds of entertainment holos and an equal number of technical ones. She could stay busy for weeks. And, if the Mishka never returned, someone would come looking for her when she didn't send in her reports. Looking around, she knew she would be able to survive for years.
Inexplicably, it occurred to her that the only Mishka who had spoken was the first female.
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