---Honour---
“If you guys had this… why, exactly, did we need to get a transport capsule to Msitu, on Zanzibar?” asks Kas, gesturing vaguely around at the shuttle we’re currently aboard, seeming to have only just thought of this question, despite this not being the first time she’s ridden in it.
“I can answer that…” offers Xon “…at the time, the Bright Plumers were, technically, all persons of interest in an ongoing piracy investigation… we couldn’t allow them use of an interstellar capable ship… It wasn’t as if any of us thought that you were pirates… even the pirates very quickly gave up on trying to claim that you guys had framed them, but rules are rules and we couldn’t give you access to an FTL capable ship, in case you decided to… Victor, what was that English phrase you taught me the other day…?”
Victor smiles “‘Do a runner’?”
Xon nods and snaps her finger “That was it; in case you’d [done a runner]!”
At this point we are hailed by local Aerospace Control (it may even be the same man who I spoke to, the evening we arrived, though I can’t be sure from just his voice).
“Craft; the Swift Claw, please be advised, you are entering restricted airspace. Transmit the proper landing clearance codes or you will be fired upon.” he says, casually.
“Twila… I assume I can count on you to take care of that?” I ask, a little nervous at the prospect of dying in a fiery antiair barrage.
“Nah…(!) Thought it’d be fun to let you guys get shot down… I’d be fine(!)” smirks Twila’s voice, from the speakers.
“Codes received, Swift Claw, you are clear to land… Welcome to Hale Ahaolelo.” says the Controller, with an audible smile.
I look out of the window as we approach… the main government council meeting hall of this planet juts from the lower slopes of a mountain, capped by ice and with a permanent river of molten rock flowing down it’s side.
I’m told, on Earth, that mountain would be too tall to even exist. Its own weight would cause the crust beneath it to sink into the mantle!
Where the mountain meets the sea is a city that, outside of Terran Space, would be considered a megalopolis!
Twila lands our shuttle at the end of a long terrace, a [hundred metres], or so, above the dusty, stony soil of the slope below.
The ramp opens and a booming voice announces over speakers “Ladies, Gentlemen and all other configurations of Being, the guests of honour! Please welcome the crew of the Bright Plume!”
A cheer erupts from a gathered crowd, held at bay by velvet ropes that mark off a red carpet (and look thoroughly inadequate to the task of telling a deathworlder where they are and are not allowed to stand!) The carpet is lined by soldiers in ceremonial looking suits of armour and armed with plasmaspears (the soldiers certainly look a better match to the task than the velvet rope(!))
There’s celebratory music being played, from somewhere.
Taking their spears in there left hands, the soldiers ball their right hands into fists and bring them to their chests, the backs of their thumbs against their hearts, in a Terran salute. On their right shoulders is the emblem of the United Terran Coalition, a quartered circle with two quarters green and two blue, on their left shoulders, the Neonesian emblem, an ocean blue and teal spiral.
As we near each soldier, they thrust their spear into the air at a 45° angle, creating an arch for us to walk beneath.
We approach the doors to the building and they are opened for us by well dressed, warmly smiling staff.
We are ushered to a great auditorium, with a portion of the seating standing empty, near the front.
Those who sit are each directed, by our guides, to a chair bearing their name. Qorak and I are guided to a perch occupying the space of a chair, in the front row… They even went to the trouble of attaching our names to it, written out in R’qali unguiform script… as if anyone else here might think this perch was for them(!)
Victor takes the seat to our left.
A stocky man in distinguished looking clothing, the sides and back of his head bare of hair, though it grows on the top, long enough to be tied into a [bun], steps to the podium at the front of the stage.
In his one bionic and one natural hand, he carries a fine piece of folded cloth that looks as if it weighs several times more than I do!
He clears his throat and his amplified voice echoes through the enormous room.
Haltingly and nervously, he starts “Good evening, all… For those of you who do not know me… I am Vasa ‘Bluefin’ Tuilagi… and I am, as of recently, the representative for the Ho’opuehu Constituency… which includes Moku Pua… Unfortunately, public speaking… has never been a forte of mine… and I deeply regret that I cannot adequately honour the men and women before me with my words, the way they deserve…”
He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing “Their actions… when we called upon them… saved thousands of lives… it’s impossible for me to conceive of the number of smiles hello … waves goodbye and kisses goodnight that will happen, over the years to come… which would not have been possible without these people, right here…”
His voice cracks as he says “…Twenty three thousand three hundred… and seventy two… every one of them someone’s son or daughter… someone’s mother or father… brother, sister or friend… every one of them a life that now gets to be lived because of these people…”
He pauses for a moment, scanning across the room “…I know that nothing I can say… or do… will convey the gratitude that these heroes and heroines deserve… the debt that the people of Neonesia owe… but… as but a token… I am proud to be able to present them with the Sailcloth of Hanohano, in recognition of their gallantry!… Captain Tcakqaal, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak and Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor… would both of you please step on stage to accept this accolade on behalf of your ship and its crew?”
I hop down from my place on the perch beside Qorak, cradling Tcakak in his wings, and begin walking up to the stage.
Victor rises from his seat and walks beside me.
We climb the stage and the host picks up the cloth, turning to face us.
Holding it with two arms he speaks “With this cloth… Neonesia honours you… may the wind ever blow behind it… may the stars ever glitter above it… may the waves ever calm before it… and may the fish ever swim, plentifully, beneath it…”
The man extends the cloth (wisely giving it to Victor rather than me) and the room erupts in thunderous applause…
---later---
I stand on the wall at the edge of the terrace garden adjoined to the building where the honours ceremony just took place. Behind me is a thrumming party, in front of me is a spectacular view of an enormous city surrounded by blue forests, beside me is Victor.
“Would you mind if I joined you?” comes a recognisable voice.
I turn and see the man who presented us with the honour.
Victor smiles and shrugs before extending his right hand to the man’s bionic for a handshake “No objection from me… Cap an’ I was just admirin’ the bluery.”
The man bears his teeth in a hearty laugh “[Bluery](!?)… I’ll have to add that to my lexicon! Here I’ve just been calling it ‘vegetation’, all these years… like some kind of fool(!)”
Victor grins back “Glad to… oh, shit! Troof!… Troof! Step away from the snackbar 'til I’ve told you what’ll kill you to eat!… Sorry, ’scuse me you two!” and with that he disappears.
Tuilagi gives an amused expression, as he watches Victor go, before gesturing after him and asking “Is he… aware that the snackbar is staffed by attendants whose only job is making sure no one eats anything that will poison them?”
I chitter “I’m sure, even if he were, he’d still want to make sure… The man takes the safety of others very seriously!… It seems to be a theme with you Terrans; fierce about the safety of others… blatant disregard for your own!”
“You think we’re… that bad?” he asks with amusement.
In answer, I give a wry cock of my browtuft, gesture behind him, using my primary flight feathers to point up the slope, and ask “Mr Tuilagi… what’s that?”
He looks behind me… “Ke Ahi Lele? The volcano?”
I nod “And, what is that running down the [volcano’s] side?”
He smiles, seeming to realise where I’m going “That would be ’Ailā’au… a river of lava…”
I gesture down to the coast “And that?”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“That’s the city of Kahakai Nani… Capital of both the island of Kahakai Nani and the planet Neonesia…”
“Indeed, indeed? And how many people live in Kahakai Nani?” I smirk.
“Around… fifteen million… I believe…”
“Fif… teen… million people who’ve chosen to live in a city at the base of a permanently erupting [volcano]!”
“Point taken… but… in our defence… This has got to be the best monitored volcano in the galaxy… ’Ailā’au also hasn’t significantly changed course in the entire 300 years that this planet has been settled.”
“Excuses, excuses(!)” I tease.
He smiles and, after a few moments, indicates my position on the wall “Speaking of safety; you realise, if a Terran were standing where you’re standing I’d be telling them how much they had to live for, right now(?)”
I cock a browtuft and answer “Yes… well the difference is that a drop of this height would kill a Terran… whereas getting stepped on by a drunken, revelling Terran would kill me(!)”
“Good point…” he says, with a corresponding gesture of his bionic index finger.
“I… erm… I take it you served?” I say, indicating his replaced appendage.
“Oh, this…?” he says, holding it up, pulling down his sleeve to show me how it attaches to his wrist and then performing a 720° swivel that would definitely not be possible with a natural hand “Nope… I did serve but that’s not where I got this… I lost it as a child… that was the time before I could just spend a few days in a tube and have it grown back like an axolotl… or Deadpool(!)… It actually would have exempted me from service, if I’d wanted it too. I went to the recruitment office and had to beg them to let me show I could do anything a person with a natural hand could do… and more! I’m not entirely convinced the recruiter didn’t just agree to get me out of his office(!)”
I laugh “I’ve never heard anything more Terran(!)”
He smiles and there is a brief lull in the conversation.
I break the silence by observing “For someone who claims not to have a talent for public speaking… you certainly gave an eloquent and moving speech earlier…”
He gives a mirthful exhale “I’m just glad I managed to get through it without bursting into tears…”
“I’m guessing you… don’t mean from stagefright?”
“You’re guessing correctly… Of those countless smiles, waves and kisses I mentioned, I hope to enjoy many myself… My wife and son were on that island… I owe their lives to you and your crew… Thank you… from the bottom of my heart.”
“I… I don’t know what to say…”
He shrugs “You don’t need to say anything…”
Another long pause.
Eventually a thought occurs to me “Mr Tuilagi…?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you settle on politics… if you think yourself to be bad at public speaking? How were you elected if you are?” I query.
He chuckles and answers “I didn’t and I wasn’t… I don’t blame you for not following the local news. My predecessor is sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for fraud, embezzlement and endangerment of public safety, right now… When I said I was the representative ‘as of recently’… I meant less than a week ago…”
“What did they do?! Your predecessor… why are they facing these charges…?”
“Well… he siphoned off funds (meant for things like tsunami prediction systems, for example) and directed them to a personal account… then attempted to flee the system on a private yacht he’d bought with his embezzled money, when this fact came to light… I think he’s going to get the book thrown at him!… There will certainly be a sizeable minority of the population advocating reinstatement of the death penalty, as there always is when a particularly emotionally charged crime, like this, is being tried… I highly doubt he’ll ever be allowed to hold public office again (as if he’d ever find a constituency to vote for him)… I’m just the highest level political clerk to whom no shit stuck… I’m only keeping the seat warm until a snap election is called… I’m sorry that it wasn’t someone more… prestigious who presented you with that sailcloth.”
I smile a Terran smile (as much as one can, without lips) and answer “Mr Tuilagi, the heartfelt thanks of a man, grateful not to have lost a family, mean more to me than if that award had been presented by an emperor!… Also, even if it’s only temporarily, don’t you hold just about the most esteemed position in Terran politics? In order to get any more prestigious you’d have to go into diplomacy, right?… The UTC is in rare company, galactically, for ruling exclusively by council!”
He beams before confirming “You’re right… when Terrans were hammering out our Unification, heads of state were one of the first things we agreed needed to go… Gone were the days when decisions needed to be more fast than considered… and gone were the days where politicians could be allowed the arrogance of thinking their people were their servants…! There was even some talk of making manacles or collars a symbolic mark of office, to remind us of who served whom (ultimately ruled to be too much in poor taste(!))… Political crimes, like my predecessor committed, are some of those that we Terrans look upon least charitably… I suppose I should enjoy this office while I hold it… I expect I’ll be back at my old desk, within the month…”
I think for a moment before saying “Mr Tuilagi… if you want to remain as a representative… could I give you some advice?”
He chuckles “Oh… already offering me campaign advice?… So forward(!)… *sigh* Go on, then.”
“The way you speak, when you have a lot to say, is very… halting…”
He nods and sighs “I know, I should speak more fluently if I want…”
“Lean into it…” I interrupt.
He turns to me, a bemused expression on his face “Lean into it?… You mean I should just speak haltingly?”
“I mean that you should learn the art of the dramatic…………… pause…” I say with a wry cock of my browtuft.
He bursts out laughing “I can tell that someone’s been to the R’qali equivalent of elocution lessons(!)”
“I neither confirm nor deny that supposition(!)… But I am serious… the way you speak now, it’s as if every pause is taking you a little bit by surprise… Panicking you, slightly… I think the easiest way for you to improve your public speaking is to relax… giving people the impression that you’re letting your previous words sit… or carefully considering your next… Don’t fear the pauses… Done right, they lend gravitas!… You also did nothing to hurt your chances by being the highest level politician, for your constituency, who wasn’t caught up in the corruption scandal!… Though, if I were you, I would only lean into that if you actually are as humble and [squeaky clean] as you appear to be to me! Humility and honesty are traits you Terrans love… but, in my experience, there’s nothing that you hate more than insincerity!”
He nods, consideringly “I’d… never… thought of that… thank you…”
“Ah! Already trying the dramatic pauses, I see(!)”
He laughs “I suppose so!… I need some practice, if I want to run in the snap election, that is!”
He sighs, looking out at the setting sun “I can’t believe I just got given political campaign advice by the woman who pulled a Dunkirk on my home island, the other day!… Oh, sorry… do you know what ‘Dunkirk’ is?”
I narrow my eyes, thinking for a few moments, then I recall “Yes… I do, actually! The [26th century] film version is my CSS’s favourite film!… He says it ‘restores his faith in Humanity’!… I do know it was based on a historical event.”
When I asked Victor why he needed his faith in Humanity restored, he asked me if I needed him to remind me what the other side of that conflict fought for!
“What you guys talkin’ ’bout?” asks Victor, freshly returned from policing the snack bar.
“Your favourite film, Victor…” I smile.
“Hercules (1997)!” he says, instantly.
I sigh “No, your other favourite film…”
He thinks a moment before saying “The Journey to the West series (2311-2320)! The martial arts’re sublime! Never been surpassed, before or since!!! First ever major blockbuster to feature an uplift actor in a leading role, with Hóu ‘Iron’ Yáng absolutely fuckin’ killin’ it, as Monkey!”
“No… your other other favourite film…”
Another, longer pause “Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986)?… The Xiù Chang Saga (2113)?”
“No; The Evacuation [2592]… about Dunkirk…”
“Oh my god! That’s my favourite film!” declares Victor with almost enough enthusiasm to make one forget that he just named four other films as his favourites(!)
He turns to Tuilagi, a broad grin on his face “You seen the makin’-of-documentary? The director tellin’ how one of the producers wanted to film it on the original location and had to have it gently explained that the original location is 20km inland, nowadays! Had me in hysterics! Defo made the right choice, with filmin’ it on Nieuw Vloandern and Nova Britannia!”
“I’m sorry to interrupt…” interrupts a smiling Emiko, not looking overdressed for the first time that I’ve seen, and flanked by Ms Hunter and with three other people I recognise, though we’ve never met “…I thought introductions ought to happen now, before everyone gets too merry(!)”
She gestures to a man wearing a short [sleeved] [shirt] made of, highly durable looking, khaki coloured cloth, a matching pair of [shorts], a sturdy looking pair of [boots] and a wide brimmed, leather [hat].
At his hip hangs a sheath, which looks as if it usually contains around [30cm] of metal blade which, I assume, he had to relinquish at the entrance.
He steps forward and, offering his hand for me to take, speaks boisterously, in a dialect of Victor’s language that my translator informs me is called ‘New Australian’ “Bloody pleasure to meet you! Name’s Steve ‘Taipan’ Kelly! Expert on toxins and animal handling… seems like I’m gonna be joinin’ you on your tinnie!”
“Captain Tcakqaal…” I supply as I take his hand and he allows me to dictate the pace of the handshake.
That done he turns to Victor and grins “How’s it goin’, you Pommie wanker?!”
I’m mortified by the disrespectful way he just spoke to my friend and crewman but Victor, confusingly, just has a broad smile spreading across his face.
“Ain’t too bad… How about yourself, you Aussie twat!?”
Kelly throws his head back in a roaring laugh for a few moments before saying “I think us two’re gonna be good mates…!”
“Would someone please explain what just happened!?” I ask, extremely confused!
“Shared cultural feature… insults are affectionate in both Brit and Aussie cultures… or can be, at least… Brave to do that as your introduction to someone, though…!” smiles Victor, without breaking eyecontact with the man with whom he just exchanged (apparently affectionate) barbs.
“I see… you… erm… quivering hatchling…?” I say, awkwardly.
He turns to me and says “Cap… ’preciate it… unnecessary…!” with a reassuring nod and smile.
I give a sigh of relieve “Thank the Seventeen!!! I can’t think of a time when I’ve been less comfortable than that!”
Laughing at the exchange, a Terran woman steps forward dressed in a long [sleeved], long [hemmed] [dress] of light blue fabric with a matching cloth wrapped tightly around her head, resulting in her only visible skin being that of her face and hands, one of which she extends to me, saying “Yasmin ‘Gold Tongue’ Soltani, linguist. A pleasure to make your acquaintance…”
It takes me a moment to realise that she just spoke in flawless R’qali.
I chitter “Do I even want to know how many languages a Terran linguist speaks?”
She giggles “I’m not even sure I know that, anymore! I stopped keeping track at some point, during the War... So many languages to decipher!… Though, I do need to point out that a linguist is not the same thing as a hyperpolyglot… I just happen to be both…” she turns to Victor and, switching to English, says “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr…?”
“Taylor… and likewise.” answers Victor.
She does not proffer her hand to him nor he to her, though they do smile at eachother so I’m confident that this is not as a result of animosity.
Finally, a woman approaches, walking on four cloven hooves at the ends of four slender legs, an impressive set of antlers on her head, and with her eyes arranged slightly to the sides of her face, rather than the front, her pupils elongated horizontally.
“Princess Vsila of Nghoedwig…” she says, serenely, bringing her two hands to her chest and then out, toward me, in what my translator tells me is her species’ gesture of greeting “…I thank you most kindly for your agreement to convey me to Thrulj… the ODR were quite insistent that I only use transportation that they had approved…”
“You’re quite welcome, Princess. It only made sense to accept the commission, given that I was already engaged in another contract with the ODR and it didn’t require my ship to go anywhere we weren’t already planning to.” I say, cordially.
There are a few moments of silence before Mr Kelly slaps his thigh and says “Ripper! Now we’ve all been introduced, how’s about I get us a rounda coldies from the bar?”