Dremiks (46 page)

***

“Liebchen, did you hear from Margaret today?” Dr. Fortunas asked the question as he entered the barracks hut that Dr. Ruger inhabited. It was a large space. She was technically supposed to share it with O’Connell, on a temporary basis, for at least three more months.

Cassie turned from setting the small folding table. Their meals still primarily consisted of ready-to-eat foods, but Ben remembered to bring two apples from his transplanted trees. He plunked them down on the table, along with a bottle of his cider. “No. Why?”

Ben pulled his lab coat off and tossed it on the nearby couch. “I haven’t been able to raise the
Hudson
for the past five hours.”

“They went to fix a communications buoy. That’s probably interfering with the systems, right?”

He shook his white-haired head. “It shouldn’t. I suppose it is possible that a solar flare, or whatever disabled the buoy, is also causing disruptions to
Hudson
systems. Possible, but unlikely.”

Cassie smiled fondly at her dinner companion. “You’re getting paranoid in your old age.”

“Ha! Being paranoid has allowed me to survive to old age! Let’s eat; I’m starving. We’ll worry about what Margaret has gotten herself into after we have full stomachs.”

She made note of Ben’s use, again, of O’Connell’s full first name—something she’d never heard anyone else call the commander. She wanted to believe that it was just an old man’s quirk, but some half-remembered comment tickled the back of her brain, begging her to make the connection. She shook her head, as if troubled by a fly, and poured the cider.

Chapter 27

Lieutenant Guttmann tugged on his uniform jacket and nervously adjusted the gold handled dagger Dwax gave him. Captain Hill was wearing an identical dagger tucked in the belt of his uniform. Dwax had explained that the Kigvans, while a generally peacefully people, respected shows of overt aggression. They would think less of humans if the officers of the
Hudson
showed up with no way to defend themselves. Both men had shaved in dereference to the hairless Kigvans and both were already practicing not making eye contact with any female in sight. Commander O’Connell’s unusual dress was, unfortunately, not conducive to that practice.

Hill tried very hard not to stare. His first officer had been transformed into something out of a Grecian painting. She wore a long, shape hugging, green dress. The cut was very straight, yet oddly flattering on her slim form. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, but not in the usual tight braid or chignon. The loose red curls softened the harsh lines of her chin. The captain blinked in surprise; O’Connell was actually wearing jewelry. Beaten gold disks hung from her ears and dangled from a chain that lay against her prominent collar bones. A matching bracelet was twined around her wrist.

“Commander,” the captain said, finding his voice, “are you barefoot?”

Maggie shook her head. “Not yet, sir. I have slip-on slippers that I can remove once we are in the throne room. Dwax said going barefoot was the polite form of dress in the Kigvan court.” She extended her foot to show him. The dress, split up the side, slid across her thigh and revealed a surprisingly bare calf and an ankle circled with the same tinkling golden chain.

Brett swallowed. He had no idea who this creature in front of him was. “Very good then, Commander.” He noticed Guttmann’s shocked stare. It might not be so very difficult to pretend to worship this woman after all. The captain tried to return to the task at hand, difficult as it was.

“Well then, are you ready to be our mistress?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. They sounded far too sexual and caused even more uncomfortable looks from Swede.

“Most certainly not, sir. I do believe I can at least pretend to be in command for a few brief hours, though.”

He had to smile at her ability to ease everyone’s discomfort. “Of course. Gentlemen, let’s present our warrior queen to the Kigvan Queen and see who wins this match of wills.” He indicated the doorway and followed Maggie out. “Amazing transformation, Commander,” he whispered behind Maggie’s left ear as they left the room. “We might just pull this off.”

***

The Kigvan Queen’s council chamber was a noisy place. Small gaggles of Kigvans, mostly women, gathered around the room, and each group seemed to be conversing, loudly, on a different subject. Male Kigvans stood against the walls, their allegiances visible from the constant gaze they kept on the group that their mistress was a member of. Dwax seemed to shrink into himself beside O’Connell. She gave him a quick frown and cleared her throat.

A young female Kigvan folded her stunted arms upward against her chest and bowed her head, the Kigvan form of a greeting. Captain Hill and Lieutenant Guttmann bowed from the waist. Maggie bowed her head. Dwax performed a full Dremikian ceremonial greeting and began to twitter and chirp in his native tongue.

Those nearest the entranceway stopped to look over the newcomers. The Kigvans seemed a curious species, for many of them approached O’Connell and her escorts. They were, as Dwax and the Dremikian books claimed, an odd looking race: completely hairless, with bright, protruding eyes, and their skin tones ranged from pure white to dark purple. Their lack of teeth was not yet apparent; smiling did not seem to be a part of their culture. Maggie stood straight with her head held high and waited.

Captain Hill stifled a chuckle. His first officer was stiff as a new recruit on the parade ground. He was standing so close behind Commander O’Connell that his breath caused the short curls on the nape of her neck to stir. He could see goose bumps rise on her fair skin. The reaction amused him. He wondered how she expected to pull off acting like the dominant human female in this sector of space when she could not even control her own reaction to her captain.

By his side, Swede was trying to furtively examine their hosts while Dwax was chattering like a magpie to a young female. The female turned and loped off toward the throne. Her long-legged run reminded Hill of a mix between a kangaroo’s hops and a horse’s full gallop. Dwax turned back to them. Thankfully for all, he remembered to address himself to O’Connell and not the captain. “Madam, the Mistress Khanaa would be pleased to meet you and your guard at this time. The,” Dwax paused and searched for a fitting word, “unmarried girl here will escort us to her aunt.”

The strange group traveled across the hall, drawing curious twitters and openly frank looks of assessment. Guttmann was beginning to wish he’d read more about the mating rituals of this species, because he had the distinct feeling he was being leered at. Hill focused on following close behind Maggie, but not running her over as he snuck glances at their surroundings. The floors of the chamber were polished almost black and worn completely smooth. He could not tell if they were stone or wood. The ceiling was very high and seemed to be intricately carved of a similar black material. The walls were clearly wood and of a lighter, more mahogany, hue.

The queen sat behind a screen on the far end of the room. They were beckoned to enter the screened off area. The ruler of the Kigvan people rose from her wooden bench-like seat to greet them. She was tall, almost as tall as the captain, and completely without facial hair. Her skin was alabaster colored, and her large eyes were grey to the point of being silver. Her broad cheekbones and high forehead were painted with intricate blue designs that reminded Maggie of Celtic scrollwork. The Kigvan Queen’s broad lips were bright red, apparently also painted. Her short arms ended in what would have been considered deformed hands for a human. Each long nail of those hands was painted the same blue as her face paint. The scroll like paint extended along her arms, across her collarbone, and up her neck to connect with the paint on her face. She wore a strapless, sleeveless garment that gave no indication of breasts or other physical features that would have been associated with a human female. Her taloned feet were bare, but decorated with paint and gold jewelry.

The young girl that originally greeted them bowed before her queen and indicated the group behind her with an out-stretched arm. Dwax again performed his full ceremonial greeting and introduction before gesturing with his hand to indicate Commander O’Connell. Maggie bowed her head and held that position for a five count before raising it and looking straight into the eyes of the Kigvan Queen. She and the captain had agreed beforehand that she had to appear respectful, but not subservient or beggarly. Her green eyes locked with the cold grey gaze of Queen Khanaa.

Behind Maggie, Captain Hill and Lieutenant Guttmann kept their heads bowed. Both men used their peripheral vision to examine the room and its inhabitants. The Kigvan and O’Connell stared each other down for over a minute before the Queen incrementally inclined her head in greeting. She gestured to Dwax and spoke in a low raspy voice. Dwax translated, “The Honorable Queen of the Kigvan Dominion asks that you be welcomed in her hall.” The Queen gestured for a chair to be brought forward. “She asks that you sit, Commander.”

Maggie sat down with as much grace as possible. Hill and Guttmann moved to stand behind her chair, both keeping their eyes respectfully downcast. Dwax hesitated, not sure where to stand. He found a happy medium standing between the two females. As Khanaa started speaking, he began to translate again. “Queen Khanaa requests to know if there is anything your ship requires while in orbit. Any fuel or food?”

“Please tell our gracious host that our fuel stores are sufficient. We would enjoy sampling the food of her honored people but we are not in need.” Maggie raised her hand in a pre-determined gesture. Guttmann moved forward, handing her a small leather pouch from his belt. “I present the leader of the Kigvans with this token of our friendship. I have heard through the honored Dremikians,” Maggie paused to nod her head in respect to Dwax, “that your people are much enamored of music. I give to you now data disks containing some of the masterpieces of human music. Honored One Dwax has assured me that these disks will operate in your data systems.”

Khanaa’s grey eyes gleamed with the intensity of what was, hopefully, joy. She watched almost hungrily as one of her handmaidens took the proffered bag from Swede. Her voice was slightly more animated when she spoke again to Dwax. “Queen Khanaa is overcome with your generosity and begs that you and your escort stay for the evening meal. She wishes to speak with you and learn more of your culture.” Dwax paused to listen and then continued “Official duties call the Queen away for now. She requests that you meet her court and explore the hall. Dinner will be served in,” Dwax paused to make a mental calculation of the time, “one hour.”

The Queen rose so fluidly that Maggie was caught off guard and jumped upward. Fortunately, the Kigvan was unaware of this breach in protocol as she was already moving to the door behind the throne. She stopped to nod one last time and then, suddenly surrounded by six large Kigvan males, she departed.

“Well then. I
think
that went ok.” Maggie tried to look at her captain for confirmation, but he was busy acting submissive. She turned to Dwax. “Come on then Dwax, let’s meet the Kigvan people. I only hope we don’t start a war before dinner.”

***

Captain Hill relaxed his shoulders as he and the other males took positions against the walls. Dinner was going to be a long affair that required him to stand behind O’Connell’s chair. His position against the wall gave him a good view of their surroundings. It also gave him an excellent view of the knotted, tense, muscles in the commander’s back. Seeing his supposedly imperturbable, “crack” pilot thrown off-balance relieved the captain. If O’Connell was rattled, then the butterflies in his stomach weren’t a sign that
he
was weak.

Kigvan custom decreed that the males of the species ate first. They were allowed the same type and amount of food as the women. After the males were fed, the female Kigvans sat, and the young males of their family, or their chosen retainers, washed the females’ feet. Dwax explained that this was on old custom dating back to the time when the arboreal Kigvans held their food with their feet. The captain decided before they left the
Hudson
that he would perform this part of the ritual.

O’Connell took a deep breath as she swiveled on the bench to face the captain. She sat parade-ground erect and stared straight forward, refusing to meet his eyes. Her resolve lasted until the captain’s fingers slid up her Achilles tendon and closed around her ankle. Her green eyes flicked downward. She barely stifled her gasp. The captain had his head down, apparently intent on his task. He dipped her foot in the small bowl of water, quickly lifted it back, and then raised it to rest on his knee where a towel was draped. The skirt of her dress slithered off her knee, exposing the entirety of her leg. The captain raised his head. No emotion showed on his face. He never broke eye contact as he lowered her leg and lifted the dress back over her knee. The captain’s thumb slipped on the ankle bone of her other foot. O’Connell shuddered and felt a blush rising from her neck. Hill cocked one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. His smug gaze unsettled O’Connell even further. She gave up trying to maintain eye contact. The second he released her foot, she swiveled back around. Her imagination running wild and her nerves frayed, she almost believed she heard the captain chuckle.

The Kigvans were a mainly vegetarian race, but they did eat a few helpings of what were, probably, the equivalent of insects. There was a course that consisted of a bird-like creature. A few of the tuber-type vegetables were very bitter and inedible, but the rest of the food was palatable. Maggie hoped that Dwax’s books were right, and none of the contents of their meals were actually poisonous to humans. The Kigvans sipped a thick gooey nectar substance throughout the meal that Dwax later informed the humans was tree nectar. It was rather like drinking caramel.

The meal and tables were cleared while the women chattered back and forth. Many of their questions were aimed at Maggie. Dwax was allowed to remain by her side in deference to her language barrier, but all the other males moved away. They’d not been standing long before they were summoned to the Queen’s private audience chamber.