“Well, The plumage is a little thinner, but I can still turn the guys’ heads,” she said as she examined her almost two-meter frame in the mirror. She was middle-aged, but her job kept her toned and agile. She wants to think she is a modern thinker, equality for the boys and all. Still, a life of habit is hard to change, and old thoughts drift in from time to time.
She put on her marshal’s uniform and noted how the green and khaki accented her dark skin and brought out the rich red highlights. The deep blue plumage was favorably revealed. Khaki was not her favorite color. Crimson is better, really brings out the eyes. Enough! You are still good-looking, no matter what you ware.
This morning, (is there really a morning on board a starship?) she was being summoned to the Assistant Chief Marshal for counseling. One of the crew had allowed herself to be smacked around by her mate and called for help. Diaphul thought she was just a crybaby, no better than a sniveling house-band. Then she saw the woman’s face, Clearly she had fallen. Then it happened. Diaphul saw the house-band hit his mate again. Sure he was big for a male, quite a bit larger than his mate. So Diaphul supposed it could be expected that he could over power the woman. He’d been drinking in a local pub and became violent. He struck the woman again and she fell to the floor like a male Assam in child birth. Then he came after Diaphul. Sure he’s big, but he is only a drunken male. Diaphul figured it was about this incident that the chief was wanting to talk to her.
“Ships’ log, Marshal’s district, Mo-bran Taxi reporting. Official entry concerning marshal Diaphul Asºso; Marshal Asºso has proven to be a capable officer with a good deal of potential. The time will come when I must retire, and would like someone of her potential to replace me. She does have some character flaws that must be dealt with first. Refer to Marshal’s District entry 2140.259 id#B6 for details. Marshal Asºso must assess this arrogant and prejudicial attitude or it will kill her, and perhaps others with her. Recommendations: I have requested that Science Master Dresent assist me in this matter of cross-cultural education, as well as a temporary reassignment to monitor duty. End entry; forward to appropriate folders, classify P-2.”
As Taxi finished, he sank into his chair, then absentmindedly scratched the root of his left antler. The velvet was drying out and the itching was just barely tolerable. His mind drifted to his wife. They were to dine tonight at a local café. Their children where off to various schools, and this would be a night for them. He became mildly surprised and pleased when the mission council decided it would be good to have family included in this mission. So, tonight they would celebrate a little liberty together, alone. A smile crept into his otherwise stern face, softening his features a little. He rose from his chair to begin an inspection when Diaphul entered his office.
“Marshal Diaphul Asºso, reporting as requested.” She said smartly.
“Stand easy, marshal.” He turned from her to retrieve his sword, mostly a ceremonial thing to honor his ancestors, and placed it with much thought into her place in his waistband. He could see her face in the mirror. She had the look of a superior having to kowtow to a subordinate. “Are you happy with your job here?” He didn’t pretend to know what people were thinking. Still, experience has taught him to read faces and postures, and the war with the Denlabby had familiarized him with many of the peoples entering the Confederacy. In that war, he had gathered a group of raged left overs from various world-regiments and turned them into a team of warriors. Some of them were Assam, so he gained an appreciation of the Assam culture, much like the Sëom on his home world. The female had evolved into the more dominant gender, with all the show, plumage, and physical strengths some associate with males. He also knew that there was a sort of arrogant machismo among their women that is also associated with males of other worlds. It was this attitude that had gotten Diaphul into trouble in the past. He would need care to change it. Growing up with one truth can make it hard to accept that there is another.
“Yes,” if only I didn’t have to answer to you.
“I have to wonder about that. You are an excellent officer, or rather could be.”
“Could be?” She found it some what difficult to contain her anger and respect the rank she spoke with. This was her first mission on any ship. She had been born into a family of successful lawyers. She wanted more. So, she had applied to and excelled at her studies at Pad-lang Police Academy in her hometown. She became disillusioned with the police work, and so put in her application to the deBan Martial Arts College on Celoña, and proved a worthy student. And now, she was standing before this male with a power issue.
Taxi went over to his desk. “If an officer allows prejudice to affect an investigation, there could be trouble. That officer could make a mistake, a fatal mistake. One that could end more than just the officer’s life. Do you understand?”
She began to notice that, accept for the initial greeting, he had not looked at her. This was starting to annoy her.
“Yes.” So what if he fires me.
“I have had the privilege of training cadets into the Marshal’s District at the deBan Martial Arts College on Celoña. I have only twice been unable to tell if a potential officer will make the cut, or needed to choose another course.”
She smiled smugly, “Do I make that cut?”
He finally turned to face her. He had schooled his face to resemble his daddy’s in a time like this. His look said, you are dangerously close to danger. His physical frame was as tall as hers in height, yet heavier in girth … quite a bit heavier. Her eyes widened as she remembered the struggle against the house-band of a couple of nights ago … and he was just a little thing! She didn’t savor the idea of a fight with Taxi. “I’d like to see.” He said.
“I would like you to visit a friend of mine, a science master Dresent of Draig. She will provide you with some cross-culture training …”
“… I did that at the academy …”
His voice became quiet and deep, with a faint hint of some thunder storm echoing off in the distance, “… You must have been asleep.” His smile disappeared. He kept the look and tone as he looked her dead in the eyes. He reminded her of the Sagittae physician at the academy who looked like she had seen too many people die for no good reason. “A marshal must have the deepest commitment to justice. Prejudice interferes with that, in fact it stops most any thoughts. I cannot afford an officer who has a biased attitude. Do I make myself clear on this issue?”
“Aye.” She entertained the thought that, maybe she could beat this boy up if he didn’t use that knife of his.
Taxi cleared his throat, and continued. “I want you to visit Master Dresent for some cross-culture training. She will help me see that you will make the cut, … or if you should go home.”
Again, her eyes widened, and the flesh on her brow and ears enlarged as they became engorged with excitement. This is just what she had feared, working with a power-drunk male wishing to seem more powerful. “Go home? Don’t you just transfer an officer to another district or ship?”
“With all the dissimilar species and cultures on this ship, and others that are going to be like her, there are no districts or ships that can afford prejudice or bias. It is costly. And it is my observation that marshals do not function as well in less physical jobs.”
“Very well, then. I will visit Master Dresent for some cross-culture training.” And then, I’ll take you out for some cross-country training, boy.
Then his face changed to that of a father half-heartedly scolding his child. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. Master Dresent is an excellent teacher. She has taught me quite a few things.” He then tightened his flack-vest, absent-mindedly scratched the base of his right antler, and headed for the door. He opened the door as if encouraging her to use it, then added, “You may continue to perform your duties. Yet, I want you to accompany a more senior martial for a time.”
As she walked down the corridor, her mind was in a stew. I know I’m a junior grade officer, but I don’t need a babysitter. I bet this Master Dresent is a boy. I can show him who’s boss. As she turned the corner leading to the science quarters, her distractions got the better of her and she crashed head long into another crewman.
The impact sent her to the cold, metal deck. “Excuse me!” she said in a tone that actually said excuse you. Then she looked up to see who it was. Before her was a crewman dressed in an under-uniform of green, indicating Ship’s mate. The over-uniform was blue, indicating science districts, with both a red and green side to the collar, indicating discipline in both physical and life sciences. The crewman had a set of wings that didn’t look like they could support her weight, and were braced against her back in a relaxed manner. Her head was adorned with large shell-like plates that looked like a crash helmet growing from her head. Her large ears produced three protuberances to the back that reminded Diaphul of a Mengen-bird’s comb. Such ears made Diaphul’s structures modest, by comparison. Then Diaphul’s eyes fell on the rank insignia on the crewman’s armband … District Master.
Oops!
“My apologies Master … Master …” She bagan to struggled to her feet.
“Science District Master, Dresent Maven,” and then she concluded in the Assam common dialect, “A to ané-Dan, to?” It is a nice day, yes?
Oops!!
“You must be Diaphul Asºso. Welcome to sciences. Now, if you will come with me, I am quite hungry.” Diaphul felt in no position to disagree. Dresent helped Diaphul onto her feet, and it occurred to her that Dresent had not fallen in the impact. As they passed other crewmen in the hallways, Dresent greeted each with a smile and a nod of the head. In the dinning hall, Dresent would point to a particular crewman, identify the species and culture, and then say the name as closely to the native fashion as she could, often with good success. Diaphul had given up trying that, so many species had ways of making sounds that she just could not do.
As they sat at their lunch Dresent asked Diaphul about her family. “Most of them are lawyers and such. My mother was a lawyer in Pad-lang, my hometown. She had been promoted to Val Mata.” With that, Dresent’s eyes widened. Clearly, she was impressed with the title. “Then, in that position, she began to help build the planetary league. My father’s mother was a farmer. I remember my grandfather’s cooking. He could make the best beatle fritters, ever. My father tried, he was a fair cook. I’d like to find a mate with a skill like that.” She turned to Dresent, “How about yourself?”
Dresent leaned back a moment, closing her eyes. It seemed that she was working out some long lost lore that she had heard once or twice. Just as Diaphul was wondering if they were still together, Dresent spoke as if whispering some secret religious prayer. “I am Dresent, of the Maven family, from the Drawees branch of the Gozaimas Clan. Ours had managed to perfect the technology that took us into space, and then away from our dying star. Then the Denlabby came. We had not considered the war craft of our ancestors for millennia, it had not occurred to us to arm our ships. Many of our clans were lost. Some, we have found again. Like the clans that found the Dhín home world. What luck, to find a place where you can stretch out and fly. Many of us have lost that strength, though our children are gaining it back. My own grandchild has flown quite well recently, thank Saraq’or.” They both became silent. Much is lost when the Denlabby comes to visit. Fortunate are those who can fight, more fortunate are they who can escape.
Diaphul thought a new subject might be in order. “So, you have mastered both physical and biological sciences?”
“The two seemed sufficiently similar to me not to restrict myself.” At that moment a science officer from the Gingak planet of the Weald system stepped over. Diaphul was amazed that he did not knock everything down with his long, ridged tail. Then she saw his ranking, a journeyman grade officer. As he waited for Dresent to read and approve his report, he looked at Diaphul. His cowl, supported by three cartilaginous bones, lifted a little as he saluted her presence. On the cowl, were they natural or granted, the Ginga had marks that barely stood out from his dark-tanned skin.
Dresent returned the report to him with a look of approval. Diaphul had become accustomed to this body-language type of communication. It bridged the language barriers more easily. Some could learn the languages of other worlds, as Dresent has clearly tried to do. Still, some worlds have more than two-hundred languages and dialects, and there are ten worlds in the Confederacy of Planets, with two more applying for membership. There was an effort to create a common language. Still, there were phonemes and ways of making language that could not be incorporated for everyone. There was a translation program under development, but it was … interesting.
As the journeyman left, Diaphul leaned over to ask, “On our world, we find giving males honorary positions unproductive. They waist money and interfere with progress.”
Dresent’s scalp rose, crackling a little under the strain. “Have you ever known anyone in an honorary position in the Confederacy before your service on board this ship?”
“Well, I guess not.”
“Well,” Dresent began as if pretending indignation, “I’ll have you know, this Confederate Explorer Class ship will not be guilty of granting honorary positions to anyone. Give us an honest commitment, and show us honest talent and desire, and all positions available will be honestly earned. The only restriction on that is in engineering, where the Javier’s Tachyon Cloak is employed. They jealously guard their technology, and with good reason. Aside from the quantum gates, it is the fastest. And it is more flexible, with no need for an exit gate. So, the destroyer and explorer class ships are being fitted with their engines, and with their guild to maintain them. They have not disappointed us, yet. Taxi has some suspicion about them, but … that is part of his nature.”
“How do you know him?”
“We were at the Slem’nan Colony when it was attacked by the Denlabby. Several regiments had been destroyed, leaving remnants scattered about. Taxi had gathered some of us together, and got us to work together, to realize our common enemy was a common ground. We learned a lot together.” Dresent’s eyes drifted again, remembering past loss and pain.
“So, why did he send me to you, instead of teaching me himself?”
“That is one of the things he has taught me. He said, ‘Everyone calls victory in battle a good thing. It really isn’t. Better is to win without a fight.’”
When they had finished their lunch, they agreed to do this more often. And so, they each returned to their stations.
When she reported to her duty station, she found she was assigned monitor duty. She was very disappointed. Sitting around looking at little screens all day was the work of house-bans. She assessed the room and found an empty work station. The person next to her was wearing a utility arm band with green on it. She reflected a moment; blue is for females, red for males, and green for androgyne. She looked the officer over, a perplexed look in her dark eyes.
Xe smiled at Diaphul, then offered, “Mona o Komi se-Lomi.” The voice had a curious texture, deep and resonating, yet rather high in pitch.
Diaphul’s eyes drifted into the crewman’s face, and saw that the crewman was looking at her. Oops! Diaphul was confused at first, then it dawned on her. She was glad her black skin did not show flushing; she’d be so embarrassed. “My Name is Diaphul Asºso, Marshal.” She said this last slowly and loudly. Then she smiled that smile one sees on the face of a grandmother who has just informed a child about her bad grammar.
Komi raised a brow, reached for an interface pad, called up the translation protocol. Then xe smiled the contagious, genuine smile of a truly sincere person. Diaphul could not imagine a marshal who could smile so much. Working in the garbage can of society can make a lawman cynical. One who sees the darkness in others rarely sees anything else in them.
The ship was “in-station,” still loading the crew and supplies. Not much to remark about. After a time, Diaphul and Komi had relaxed and found laughter a bit easier. The biggest laughs came from the translator. It really needed improvement, a lot of improvement. A statement like, “How long have you been a marshal?” became, Long noses have been a marshal. Which wasn’t an easy laugh with Komi sprouting a trunk that descended past xer chest.
At the end of their shift, Diaphul went to the planet they were in orbit around. There was a cantina everyone was raving about. As she was approaching the street the cantina was on, she was reflecting on the events of the day. She thought about how she had acted with Komi at first. Then she remembered her conversations with Dresent, and reflected on the science journeyman she had met. She had never thought that alien species were of much intelligence. Today, she was proven wrong …, on several occasions. She thought about apologizing to Master Mo-bran for her attitude. After I take him into the training room for a couple of rounds.
She paused a bit at the door to the cantina to adjust her uniform. She opened the top just a bit, gets the boys to wishing, she thought. She grabbed the door to the cantina just as chaos broke loose. The door flew off its hinges embracing her helpless body in a protective hug. Rising into the air, the blast sent her body across the road, into a glass window. Reflexively she shielded her head with her arms, though the cantina door was greater protection. She heard screaming, then commands. She struggled to get up to help, though to look at her one might not have known it. She felt the door lifted off her and a hand checking her pulse. As she faded from consciousness, she heard, “Ma-to’o, no desuStus le.” Rest, you will live. She fought to open her eyes to see who spoke in her language. It was a male from Assar, her home world. He wore the ceremonial headdress of an Acadian priest. He also wore a yellow station under-uniform and white physicians’ over-uniform. He was helping her onto a stretcher, as she faded out. Her last thought, He’s cute.
She awoke to find she was in an operating theater. There was an ache in her shoulder that was vaguely familiar. Next to her examination table was the physicians’ assistant from the blast. His face showed no sign of concern, and she took that as a good thing. She took in a breath and winced as a sharp stiffness reminded her of just how close to death she had come.
The assistant looked over at her and smiled. “Welcome back,” he said in the Confederate’s common tongue. She smiled back, no strength yet for words. “I am Alepheg, your PA.” She noted the absence of a second name, and her smile took on that I’m going to get into trouble shape she had when on the prowl. Not only is he cute, he is single.
Alepheg stepped away and called to another. His voice carried a level of strength she was unaccustomed to hearing from the males of her world. Then, she remembered the Acadian head ware, and it made sense. It all fell into place, him being in a medical facility with more to do than just babysit the ill. That was one of the things the Acadian religious order did for some males.
Alepheg returned and a Rhagh male from the Se’om world came into view. His face was arrayed with dark and light stripes, forming an exotic pattern. The borders were a bit redder giving the appearance of some tribal medicine man. She remembered from her cultural briefings that this coloration was natural for the Rhagh, one of three sentient species on Se’om. This Rhagh had a stations’ under-uniform of yellow, covering a physician’s surgical coat. The rank on his collar identified him as a district master. She thought maybe he was a physicians’ assistant, like Alepheg.
The Rhagh examined the wound with his fingers, lightly touching the borders to test for inflamation. Alepheg waved a scanner over the area and showed the results to the physician. The Rhagh seemed pleased.
“I am Soress, in the Confederate, I am your surgeon. We had some difficulty removing the glass shards from your shoulder, a little one was right on top of a nerve. You will be fine in a day or so, ready for duty.” He had a strange way of talking, as if half growling, half purring. His face was animated a little as he spoke.
Surgeon? He was my surgeon? Males don’t make good surgeons, do they? The dull sharpness in her shoulder became a bit too much for her. She saw Alepheg reach for something, then pressure in her neck as the hyperspray’s vacuum opened up her skin to apply some pain killer. She went back to sleep, her mind reeling in the possibilities.
The next morning, Alepheg had brought in a bowl of breaded and baked grubs, and a nice, spicy sauce. She was about to enjoy the breakfast when Taxi entered the recovery room. She made to get up, he motioned her to rest.
“Did they find the bomb,” she asked after the usual pleasantries of How are you doing followed by jokes of it only hurts when I sing.
“No bomb. Ancient energy conductor system. One little leak and all hell breaks fourth. Dr. Alepheg says you will be free to return to light duties in a day or so.”
With that name a slight smile lightened her face. She felt a bit self-conscious and moved to change the subject. “Will I get to work with Komi se Lomi?”
“It was just Komi, and no.” His eyes closed for a moment, as if to speak a prayer. When they opened again, she knew; Komi was in that cantina. “How bad is it?”
“Xer body is returning with all honors to xer family. Xe will be sorely missed.”
“It … I mean, xe is dead?” but, but, they had only just gotten acquainted. Then her mother’s face came to mind. It was just after a battle with some smugglers. Her mother had not been hurt, but she’d lost a couple of friends. Diaphul remembered her mother telling her, Sometimes, life is great, and sometimes, life is just not fair.
Taxi saw the look on Diaphul’s face, and excused himself.
As he left, Alepheg reentered the room to take her vitals. “Don’t they have nurses for this?” she asked with that sly smile of hers.
“There are some privileges a senior officer can exercise, yes?” He said, using their native tongue to ensure the proper protocols were in place. “Sometimes, aliens grope too much finding what they are looking for.” He reached for her wrist to check her pulse. She looked into his eyes and saw something there, something he felt was not his place to say, though he seemed to know how to get someone else to say it for him. Was that his training at the Acadian Monastery? Or his experiences away from Assar at work? Yes, there was more in his eyes than what he was saying to her.
As he was finishing, and making notes in her record, she thought some more conversation would be good. “How long have you been away from Assar?”
“Several years, actually, though I do visit from time to time. While I miss my family, I’m more comfortable away from home. I have a new family, new friends. Here, I am fulfilled in a way I might not be back home.”
“It must be hard working with aliens, especially when gender roles are reversed.”
“They aren’t really reversed, just revised. There are some sentient beings who have only one gender for everyone. Imagine what gendered roles are like with them. After a time, one becomes accustomed, and then, the differences are realized and appreciated, and one finds we have more in common, more similarities. After all, we live in the same universe, and I’ve yet to find an alien that does not look just a little like us.”
With that, Komi returned to Diaphul’s mind. She sought a distraction, and so turned to her breakfast. She picked up one of the grubs and dipped it in the sauce. Alepheg had a look of anticipation, though he seemed to not want it noticed. Diaphul placed the grub into her mouth and the lightly spiced sauce went to work on her taste buds like a gentle summer rain storm just rising to the occasion. Her mind drifted to the farm and her grandfather’s cooking. No, this wasn’t quite what he would prepare. It was different, but it was still delicious. “Mmhh,” she said before thinking.
“Sorry, the grubs on this world are not quite what I would have liked, but they serve.”
“You made this?” she said in feigned shock. He smiled, and left. She remembered that Acadian priests were not given to boasting. And hollered, “Thanks!” Wow, cute, single, and a good cook. Would be an excellent house-band. Careful, there, your still too young to be held down like that. And she laughed a bit to herself, wincing with the reminder of pain in her shoulder.
It was quite, in the commons’ area. She sat at a library reader, looking over some forgotten textbook. She was alone with her thoughts. The ache in her shoulder would not let her rest in her pod, so she thought to read up on some things. She really didn’t pay attention to the words, her mind was drifting to the events of the past several days. She didn’t look up as a Javier journeyman came in, sliding to his pod for rest. She was accustomed to the Javier by now, with their two sets of arms and a long, flexible tail for ambulation. Sometimes she wanted to ask if the cold metal of the deck was uncomfortable against his naked hide, but didn’t have the moxie to raise a conversation with one, yet. He didn’t seem to mind that she was ignoring him.
She was a middle-aged Assam female, in the prime of health and physical condition. Her job kept her toned and agile, and the challenges kept her mind sharp. She wanted to think herself a modern thinker; equality for the boys, and all. Still, a life of dogma and practice can be hard to change, and old thoughts drift in from time to time. The events of the past couple of days have obliged her biases to come the top of her mind, more so than being tossed around by that crazed and drunken crewman last week. She realized she must change, she must adapt to live.
That smile returned, as her piñas filled with anticipation. Well, I can still turn the guys’ heads. She rubbed her tongue against her palate, remembering that sauce.
She stood up, turned to her pod, opened it. She was glad that it was a lower bunk, otherwise her shoulder would have made it difficult to get in. She closed the entry, set the air and temperature to her liking, and dreamed of Alepheg, resting his knees beneath her head. Goodnight, my love, he said. And she drifted to sleep.
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