Kate Elliott - Jaran 1 - Jaran

JARAN

JARAN BOOK 01

Kate Elliott

“Bodies attract each other with a force

that varies directly as the product of

their masses and inversely as the square

of the distance between them."

—Isaac Newton

Earth, Nairobi Port

A.L.C. 261 month 5 day 3

Terese Soerensen to Charles Soerensen

Dear Charles,

Please don't think I'm running away. I really did mean, when I decided to go to Dao Cee

system, to visit you on Odys—but I need to be by myself right now, without you trying to give

me well-meant advice or telling me that being your heir is just a technicality and that it doesn't

mean that much. Because it's not true.

Charles, I didn't tell you that I got engaged six months ago. He insisted that we keep it a

secret, and now I know why. Obviously he figured you would see through his "love" for me to

his real motives. I made the mistake of telling him that under Chapaliian law a sister loses all

right to her brother's [INSERT: or her father's] goods and titles upon marriage—that she

assumes, totally, her husband's position. That was one month ago.

One month ago I was still engaged, and I didn't know that humiliation could help a

person do six month's work in five weeks. I feel sick. I hate myself for being so stupid. And I

can't even tell you his name, because he's studying Xenodiplomacy at the Sorbonne, and I'm

afraid he'll think I sabotaged his career. He's one of those men who think women have no

honor. Can you understand how I fell in love with him? Because I can't.

I thought that I had the courage to tell you to your face that I don't want to be your heir,

that I'm sick and tired of people implying that my success at Univerzita Karlova is due to your

position and not to my talent, that I'm never seen as myself but only as an extension of you.

Can't I just abdicate being your sister and let you adopt? Or is it only death or marriage that

will remove me from your title? Not, of course, that I'm likely to find either situation appealing.

God, Charles, I feel like I have no direction, that I can't trust my own judgment, that I've been

abandoned in the middle of nowhere. And I hate being melodramatic.

[ERASE DOCUMENT]

Earth, Nairobi Port

A.L.C. 261 .5.3

Terese Soerensen to Charles Soerensen

Dear Charles,

I finished my thesis early (with honors, by the way) and Univerzita Karlova agreed to

give me a leave of absence. I've let out my flat in Prague and I'm going to visit Dr. Hierakis at

the palace in Jeds. I know I don't have an official clearance for Rhui, but I do have a copy of

the preserve regulations, and you know how well I speak Rhuian. I'm going to appropriate a

place on the Rhuian cargo shuttle of the next ship headed to the Dao Cee system. I'm

thinking of doing my dissertation on one of the Rhuian languages, so I'll be researching as

well. I'm not sure how soon I'll get to Odys.

Your loving sister, Tess

CHAPTER ONE

"I wept and I wailed

when I saw the unfamiliar land."

—Empedocles of Agragas

A spark flew, spiraling upward from the massive frame of the new Port Authority building.

Its fiery light winked out against the heavy glastic pane that separated the deep pit of the

construction bay from the temporary spaceport offices.

Two young women sat on a padded bench by the huge overlook. One, black-skinned

and black-haired, watched the work below. The second, looking pale and light-haired mostly

in contrast to her companion, studied the words she had just typed into her hand-held

computer slate. She frowned.

"What are you writing, Tess?" asked the first, turning back to her friend. Then she

grinned. "Sweet Goddess, what language is that in?"

Tess tapped save and clear and the words vanished. "Just practicing." She shrugged.

"That was late American English. It's only about 300 years old, so you could probably puzzle

it out given time. I built in a translation program. Here's how the same thing would look in

classical Latin." Words appeared again. "Ophiuchi-Sei." The letters shifted to a fluid script.

"And here's court Chapalii. Formal Chapalii. And colloquial enscribed Chapalii. You'll notice

how the glyphs differ in written form only in the tails and in the angling of the curve—"

"You are nervous, aren't you? What if the captain refuses you passage?"

"He won't refuse," muttered Tess. She brushed her hand across the screen, clearing it.

"And steward class Chapalii of course has no enscribed counterpart at all, so I've transcribed

it into Anglais characters. What do you think, Soje? It's an act of rebellion, you know, for

stewards to write."

Sojourner lifted her brows questioningly and glanced out at the new port building rising

behind them along alien lines. Along Chapalii lines. "Is that why the chameleons think we

humans are barbarians? Because we allow everyone to write?''

Tess laughed. "That doesn't help. No, because our spoken tongue and written tongue

are the same, and a standard. Because we're too egalitarian. Because we're so young, as a

species, as a culture, compared to them."

"Because our physiological system is so inefficient, compared to theirs?'' Sojourner

waved toward the building behind them. "Just like our technology is primitive? I hate them."

She glanced around the waiting chamber. The walls, a muted orange in the fading daylight,

curved in at the top; their dullness diminished the thirty meters between the ends of the room.

The air smelled of heat and spices: cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom. It was an alien room,

designed for the taste of Chapalii, not humans. "No. I don't hate them. They've proven neither

cruel nor harsh as our masters."

"Their grip is soft," said Tess in an undertone.

Sojourner gave her a sharp glance. "But it chafes," she replied, quieter still. "Tess, are

you sure you really want to go see your brother? Jacques isn't worth this. He was a spoiled,

pretty rich kid who wanted to get ahead without working for it. He's not worth your running

away—"

Tess winced. "I'm not running away. I finished my thesis. I've got obligations to Charles

now."

"What about your research? I know you don't want to follow in Charles's footsteps. Why

go now?"

"Soje, leave be. " The force of her comment silenced both of them. "As if I could follow in

his footsteps anyway," Tess murmured finally.

Sojourner lifted up her hands in defeat. "Goddess, you're stubborn. Go. Be miserable.

Just remember I told you so. You've always hated Odys. You always say so, and that one

time I went there with you, I can't say as I blame you. Ugly planet."

"It wasn't before the Chapalii got through with it," said Tess so softly that Sojourner did

not hear her.

A chime rang through the room. A seam opened out of orange wall to reveal a

nondescript man in police blues. His shoulders shrugged in an exaggerated sigh when he

saw them.

"Office is closed," he said, obviously used to saying that phrase frequently. "And it's off

limits to humans at all times, except for the midday hour if you've got a dispensation." He

regarded them, measuring. What he saw, Tess could well imagine: two young women, only a

single valise between them, dressed without any particular style that might mark them out as

rich enough or important enough to rate a dispensation or otherwise be allowed entrance into

the private corridors of humanity's alien masters.

"If you'll allow me to escort you out," he said, firmly but kindly.

Sojourner looked at Tess expectantly. Tess felt frozen. Again it came down to this:

retreat with meek dignity, as any other human on Earth would have to, or use her brother's

name like a weapon. How she hated that, having a name that meant something in four

languages. Having a name that, through no work of her own, had become so identified with

humanity's one great rebellion against the Chapaliian Empire that the name was now

synonymous with that rebellion. Charles had come so early to a realization of what he had to

do in his life that surely he could never comprehend her struggle. But she had backed herself

into a corner and had no choice but to go forward.

"You must leave," he said, coming briskly toward them.

"My name is Terese Soerensen," she said, despising herself as she said it. "My

companion is Sojourner King Bakundi."

The second name did not even register. He stopped stock-still. His face changed. "The

Soerensen? You're his sister?" He hesitated. Then, of course, he looked both abashed and

eager. "It is an honor. An honor, to meet you." She extended her hand and he flushed,

pleased, and shook it. "I have a cousin. She fought at Sirin Wild, with the last fleet, on the

Jerusalem. She was lucky enough to escape the decompression.''

"I'm glad," said Tess sincerely. "Where is she now?"

He grinned. "She's a netcaster now. Ferreting information. For the long haul."

"For the long haul," echoed Tess fiercely.

Sojourner murmured, "Amandla."

A hum signaled a new parting of the wall. The guard, startled, spun to look. One of the

ubiquitous Chapalii stewards entered the room. Like all the Chapalii serving class, he wore

long, thick pants and a heavy tunic belted at his narrow waist. A hint of green colored the pale

skin of his face—a sign of disapproval.

"What is this intrusion?" he demanded. He spoke in the clean, clipped Anglais that those

few stewards assigned to direct intercourse with humans used. "I insist these offices be

cleared." His gaze skipped from the guard to Sojourner. "Of these females. "

Tess stood up. The Chapalii steward looked at her. Like an indrawn breath, the pause

that followed was full of anticipated release.

The green cast to his white skin shaded into blue distress. His thin, alien frame bent in

the stiff bow Chapalii accorded only and always to the members of their highest aristocracy.

"Lady Terese," the steward said in the proper formal Chapalii. "I beg you will forgive my

rash entrance and my rasher words."

Unable to trust her voice for a moment, Tess simply folded her hands together in her

human approximation of that arrangement of hands called Imperial Clemency. The steward's

complexion faded from distress to blessed neutrality again, white and even. Sojourner rose to

stand next to Tess.

"I am here," said Tess in strict formal Chapalii, high rank to low, "to advise the captain of

the Oshaki that I will board his vessel and depart with it so far as my brother's fief of Dao

Cee."

He bowed again, obedient. "You would honor me, Lady Terese, if you granted me the

privilege of showing you in to see Hao Yakii Tarimin."

"Await me beyond." Tess waved toward the still open seam in the wall. The steward

bowed to the exact degree proper and retreated. The wall shut behind him.

"God, but it gives me pleasure to see them ordered around for a change," muttered the

guard. Tess flushed, and the man looked uncomfortable, as if he was afraid he had offended

her.

"Are they difficult to work for?" asked Sojourner quickly.

"Nay. Not if you do the work you're hired to do. They're the best employers I've had,

really." He lifted his hands, palms up. "Which is ironic. Say, did you say Sojourner King?"

Sojourner chuckled, and Tess watched, envying her friend's easy geniality. "Yes. I was

named after my great-grandmother, that Captain Sojourner King of the first L.S. Jerusalem. "

She intoned the words with relish, able to laugh at her inherited fame in a way Tess had

never managed. Then she sobered and turned to Tess. "I guess we part here, Tess. Take

this, for luck." She took an ankh necklace from around her neck and handed it to Tess. "Keep

well."

"Oh, Soje. I'll miss you." Tess hugged her, hard and quickly, to get it over with, shook the

hand of the guard, picked up her valise, and walked across the room. The wall opened before

her, admitting her to forbidden precincts.

"And don't you dare forget to send me a message from Odys," Sojourner called after her.

Tess lifted a hand in final farewell as the wall seamed shut, sealing her in to the corridor

with the silent, patient steward. He bowed again, took her valise, and turned to lead her

through the branching corridors. His lank hair and achromatic clothing lent the monotonous

bleached-orange walls color in contrast, or at least to Tess's sight they did. She did not know

what the walls looked like to his vision: like so much else, that was information not granted to

humans.

It was hot, so hot that she immediately broke out in a sweat. Her hand clenched the

computer slate. She felt like a traitor. Because she had no intention of going to Odys. She

was afraid to go there, afraid to tell her own and only sibling that she could not carry on in his

place, that she did not want the honor or the responsibility—that she did not know what she

wanted, not at all. She did not even have the courage to tell a good friend. And Sojourner had

been a good friend to her, these past years.

In the suite reserved for the captain, three Chapalii stood as she entered, bowed in by

the steward. He hung back, retraining his hold on her exalted valise, as the wall closed

between them. Tess surveyed her audience with dismay. To interview the captain was bad

enough. To face three of them. . . .

She refused to give in to this kind of fear. The captain, thank God, was easy to

recognize, because he wore the alloy elbow clip that marked his authority as a ship's master.

She drew in her breath, lifted her chin, and inclined her head with the exact degree of

condescension that a duke's heir might grant a mere ship's captain.

Before the captain could bow, one of the other Chapalii stepped forward. "Who has

allowed this interruption?" he demanded in formal Chapalii. "Our business here is private,

Hao Yakii." The Chapalii turned his gaze on Tess, but she knew her ground here; indeed,

conduct was so strictly regulated in Chapalii culture that she usually had a limited number of

responses. It made life much easier. Knowing he was at fault, she could regard him evenly in

return. As he realized that the captain, and, belatedly, the other Chapalii, were bowing deeply

to her, his skin hazed from white to blue.

"I am honored," said the captain, straightening, "to be the recipient of your attention,

Lady Terese. May I be given permission to hope that your brother the duke is in good health

and that his endeavors are all flourishing and productive?"

"You may."

The slightest reddish tinge of satisfaction flushed the captain's face. He bowed in

acknowledgment and gestured to his companions, introducing them in the formal, long-

winded Chapalii style, not only their names but their house and affiliation and title and station

and level of affluence: Cha Ishii Hokokul, younger son of the younger son of a great lord, no

longer well off, traveling back to the home world; Hon Echido Keinaba, a fabulously wealthy

merchant traveling to Odys to negotiate several deals with the merchants of the esteemed

Tai-en Soerensen's household. Hon Echido bowed a second time, skin white, secure in his

quick recognition of the duke's sister and doubtless hoping that his acumen here would stand

him in good stead in the haggling to come. Cha Ishii bowed as well, but it was not nearly as

deep a bow as a duke's heir merited.

Tess acknowledged them and nodded again at the captain. "Hao Yakii. I desire passage

on your ship, to the Dao Cee system."

He did not hesitate. Of course, he could not. "It is yours, Lady Terese. You honor me

and my family with your presence."

Before she could reply, Cha Ishii compounded his first offense by addressing the captain

in court Chapalii. "Hao

Yakii, this is impossible that a Mushai's relative should be allowed on this run. You must

prevent it."

Hao Yakii went violet with mortification, whether at Ishii's effrontery or at some mistake

he had just realized. Hon Echido watched, neutral, unreadable, and doubtless unsure

whether any human could actually understand the intricacies of court Chapalii.

But Tess's dismay had evaporated, drawn off by her irritation at Ishii's assumption that

she could not understand him, and by sheer human curiosity at the mention of that name,

Mushai. "You refer, I believe," she said directly to Ishii in court Chapalii, thus indirectly

insulting him, "to the Tai-en Mushai. Was he not a duke who rebelled against one of your

ancient emperors?''

Ishii blushed violet.

Violet and pink warred in the captain's face. Approval won. "Lady Terese, it is, as you

would call it—" A long pause. "A fable. A legend. Do you not have legends of ages past when

your lands ran with precious metals and all people of proper rank had sufficient wealth to

maintain their position, and then a traitor who would not adhere to right conduct brought ruin

to everyone by his selfish actions?''

Tess almost laughed. How often as a child had she and her classmates been told of that

time a mere two centuries ago when a consortium of five solar systems bound by inexplicably

close genetic ties and the enthusiasm of newly-discovered interstellar flight had invested their

League Concordance as law? A brief golden age, they called it, before the Chapaliian

Empire, in its relentless expansion, had absorbed the League within its imperial confines.

"Yes. Yes, we do," she replied. She felt a fierce exultation in confronting these

Chapaliians whom she now outranked, thinking of her brother's failed rebellion against the

Empire, ten years before her birth, because he was not a traitor to his kind, to humankind, but

a hero. Even now, when the Chapalii, for reasons only Chapalii understood, had ennobled

him. Even now, made a duke—the only human granted any real status within their intricate

hierarchy of power, given a solar system as his fief, endowed with fabulous wealth—Charles

Soerensen simply bided his time, and the Chapalii seemed not to suspect.

"The honored duke will be pleased to see his heir on Odys," said Hon Echido.

His colorless words shattered her thoughts, exposing her to her own bitter judgment: that

she was afraid, that her life lay in chaos around her, and that even what little her brother

asked of her she could not grant. She wanted only to retreat to the quiet, isolated haven of

the palace in Jeds and be left alone, with no one expecting anything of her. Suddenly she felt

oppressed by these Chapalii watching and measurin| her. She felt short and grossly heavy

next to the gaunt delicacy that swathes of fabric and flowing robes could not disguise. Ishii's

skin bore a blended shade that she could not recognize nor interpret. Yakii seemed torn

between ad dressing a duke's heir and Ishii's demands.

"Lady Terese," said Hon Echido, either sensitive to these currents or else simply

pressing his advantage, as a canny merchant must, "it would be a great compliment to my

house if you would allow me to escort you personally to the Oshaki. With Hao Yakii's

permission, of course." He bowed to her and acknowledged the captain with that

arrangement of hands known as Merchant's Favor.

With mutual consent, the parting went swiftly. Tess left Yakii and Ishii to their debate,

and walked to the shuttle with Hon Echido in attendance, the steward carrying her valise five

paces behind. There would be time enough to arrange with Hao Yakii that she was going to

Rhui, not to Odys. Both planets, being neighbors in the Dao Cee system were on the

Oshaki's scheduled run.

Hon Echido proved a pleasant and undemanding companion. His concerns were

material, his conversation pragmatic, and he seemed determined to treat her as he would any

duke's heir, despite the fact that she was both human and female.

"May we be given to understand, Lady Terese," he asked as the shuttle lifted away from

Earth and out toward the Oshaki's orbit, "that the more frequent cargo runs to Rhui indicate

that the duke will soon be opening that planet up to exploitation as he has the planet Odys?"

"No. Its designation as a natural preserve under the Interdiction Code protects it for at

least a century. My brother desires to preserve the native cultures for as long as possible."

"Lady Terese, certainly the natives are quite primitive. Not equal to the worth to our

societies of Rhui's magnificent natural resources."

"Ah, Hon Echido, but is it not here that our valuations of worth differ? While to you they

are merely a less important part of Rhui's other natural resources, to us they are cousins."

Echido stroked his mauve robes. "More than cousins, surely. Are you not, in virtually

every particular, identical species?"

If it was meant to be an insult, it was smooth. Tess could not refrain from smiling, but the

expression was completely lost on the Chapalii. "Yes, we are both Homo sapiens. That is why

you Chapalii cannot be allowed on the planet. However primitive the Rhuian natives might be,

some of them are intelligent enough to question those characteristics by which the Chapalii

differ from humans."

"Are they truly so intelligent?" he asked without a trace of irony. "How can you know,

Lady Terese?"

"Because I lived on Rhui for three years, in a city called Jeds. That was about ten years

ago, when I was a child. My brother allows limited contact between humans in his employ and

the natives, for research purposes."

Echido settled his hands into that arrangement known as Merchant's Accord. "Certainly

the duke is wise to ascertain the extent and disposition of Rhui's resources before exploiting

them. It is a rich planet. My family can only hope that we will be allowed the privilege of

bidding on any expedition once the interdict is lifted from the planet.''

"I assure you, Hon Echido, that should it come to that, I will put in a good word for you

with my brother."

He was delighted. It struck Tess that the mauve of his robes and the reddish tint of

satisfaction that flushed his skin did not remotely match. God, but she was tired.

Stewards met them at the Oshakvs lock and vied for the honor of showing her to a suite

of rooms suitable for a passenger of her eminence. The original steward kept his grip on her

valise. It was a relief to be left alone in the suite. The solitude was palpable. It was also hot.

She developed a routine quickly as the Oshaki left Earth orbit and began its run to Dao

Cee and thence to the home worlds. She slept and washed, and ate her meals alone in her

rooms. She wanted to wallow in depression. All the anger and frustration and the caustic

wound of Jacques's rejection of her had room to swell up and fill her until she mostly just lay

on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She could not manage tears: she wanted them too

badly.

But when, one half day out from Rhui, yet another begging invitation from Hao Yakii that

she dine at his table came in, she felt guilty. She owed it to Charles. He would expect her to

dine, to converse, to glean any slightest bit of information that might be valuable to the cause.

And she needed to tell Hao Yakii that she was going to Rhui, not to Odys.

The ship was large, and a steward appeared to escort her to the captain's dining hall.

The dining hall itself was as big as her flat in Prague. Hao Yakii rose at her entrance. Five

other Chapalii rose, bowing. She acknowledged, in formal Chapalii, the two she recognized:

Cha Ishii Hokokul and Hon Echido Keinaba. The others were introduced: minor lords and

merchants. Somehow, Echido managed to sit beside her, and his presence acted as a buffer

because he was so good at keeping the conversation on a technical, commonplace level. To

her relief, the dinner went smoothly.

She rose finally. Echido begged leave to escort her to her suite. At the door, she paused:

She had not told Hao Yakii about her true destination. It was so hard, in front of these

strangers. She hesitated, struggling with herself. She could simply send him a message

through the comm, but God, she was damned if she'd be that cowardly.

Behind her, in court Chapalii, one of the merchants said to the captain: "Will the Tai-endi

be confined to her suite until you leave Rhui orbit?"

The captain flushed green, glancing toward the door. Cha Ishii flushed blue, though he

did not look toward her, and a moment later, the merchant flushed violet, mortified.

"Hon Echido," said Tess in clear, formal Chapalii, "you did not tell me if Keinaba has

already opened negotiations with the Tai-en?" A quick glance back as they left showed her

that the captain's flush had faded to white.

Echido was tinged blue along the jawline, a faint line of distress. "We have not, Lady

Terese. Unforeseen events have brought us to Dao Cee." Then, smoothly, he took the

subject off on another tangent.

Alone in her suite, Tess sat down on her bed and pondered. Why should the captain

confine her to quarters? He could not, in any case. Becoming fluent in the language had not

given her, or any human, much insight into the Chapalii mind. That someone of lower rank

should presume to prohibit their superior any place whatsoever was inconceivable to the

Chapalii. On a Chapalii starship, whose highest official was a captain she outranked, she

could go anywhere he could go. To suggest confining her, then—the implications of that were

staggering.

They were hiding something. They must be. Something to do with Rhui, or the cargo

shuttle. What unforeseen events had Hon Echido been talking about? Perhaps it was a good

thing she was here, after all.

She opened her valise and changed into the clothing she had brought, clothing that

could pass as native on Rhui: light undergarments, special thermal cloth cut into tunics that

layered over trousers, and leather boots. The cut and texture of the clothes felt strange. At

least the thermal cloth insulated her from both heat and cold.

A pouch hung from the belt she put on. She filled it: Jedan coins, mostly, a handkerchief,

gloves, the old Egyptian ankh necklace given to her by Sojourner, unremarkable odds and

ends for hygiene, a volume of philosophic essays from the university in Jeds. Anything else

she needed she could get once she arrived at the palace in Jeds.

She laid the computer slate down on a table and reread her letter. The sentence about

her dissertation she erased, and in its place she wrote: / have reason to be suspicious of this

cargo run. I'll keep my eyes open. She locked the slate's memory. A looped message on the

screen instructed that the slate be taken to her brother. On impulse, she keyed the cosmetic

function and ran a hand over the screen. It darkened to a reflective surface, mirroring her.

Light brown hair—some called it auburn. Not slim, though her former fiance had constantly

reminded her that she could be. She only resembled her brother in her deep-set eyes, her

high cheekbones, and in a certain grace of form lent by the coordination of parts and an

evenly proportioned body. Perhaps it would be best just to go on to Odys. God, though, she

did not want to face Charles.

Even as she thought it, the captain's intercom, which she had left on, chimed to

announce that the cargo shuttle would depart in one Chapalii hour. She slapped the reflective

screen off, not even wanting to face herself, and left the suite. She was doing her duty to

Charles, going to Rhui on this shuttle.

A steward waited outside. She waved him off and headed alone by lifts and

passageways down to docking. Her retinal-ident scan gave her access to the entire ship. As

she passed, stewards bowed and got out of her way. She cycled through the

decontamination threshold and crossed the transom to the feeder that snaked out to the

waiting shuttle. In the holding room off to one side, Hao Yakii, elbow clip gleaming, stood

speaking with a cluster of Chapalii.

Tess hesitated. No one, not even a steward, blocked the feeder. Doubtless cargo was

being transferred into the shuttle farther down. To go over to Hao Yakii demanded that she

change her direction, announce her arrival in another room, and inform him of her change of

plans in front of an audience. A real investigator would just go on, not asking for permission.

She barely slackened her steps as she walked up the feeder and on to the shuttle.

Was she being bold, or simply cowardly? Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them

away impatiently. A bubble lift gave access onto the control bulb, and through its open tube

she heard the pilot conversing with some merchant about their cargo. Horses? The lift must

be distorting his words. Ahead, an elaborate glyph marked a contained storage hold. She

could either ride down in there or confront the pilot now. She had lifted up her hand before

she even realized she'd made the decision. The wall seamed away from the entrance to the

hold. She took one step in. Stopped, amazed, and then shook herself and slipped inside as

the wall closed behind her.

Horses!

She had expected sundry bags of trading goods for the handful of Earth merchants and

anthropologists who lived, disguised, among the native populations, or possibly even boxes

within boxes of laboratory or communications equipment for the hidden rooms in the palace

at Jeds. She had certainly not expected horses.

The animals breathed and shifted around her. Their scent lay heavy and overwhelming

Kate Elliott - Jaran 1 - Jaran

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