Episode 9: Asha-Tanga #4

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"Saras has a . . . certain effect on first-time visitors."

"Awww," Jack groused. "I know. Stop fussing, please."

"It's just if you've never experienced it . . ." Zeta said, looking away.

"You're still fussing," he said. And then. "Are we on the clock or off?"

"Off," she said. "No business." She gave him a sharp look, one eyebrow raised.

It reminded him of Mistress Mani. He smiled at the thought. The two women had nothing in common except this one thing: the look they each gave him when they thought he was about to breach protocol.

Which he nearly did at least once a week. The rules of diplomacy, Consortium-style, took some getting used to. Don't talk about work with friends. Don't talk about friends at work. Even if they were the same people. Never give Information one tiny reason to think that what you said or did during your off hours had any relevance to diplomacy.

"I wasn't going to," he said. He brushed the tentacles from her forehead and leaned in. "I was going to do this." He kissed her forehead lightly. "Settle down. It's going to be okay."

She sighed and gave him a happy look. "Thanks. I just . . . this is a big deal, you know. Front-row seats at Asha-Tanga. And I'm supposed to give speeches. Two of them!"

"You've given speeches before," he reminded her. They found a seat on a bench just inside the spaceport. "On Saras even. You lived there."

"I kind of wish I still had my apartment. It wasn't big, but at least you wouldn't have to go to your embassy while I make do in at the diplomatic core barracks."

"Yeah, well, maybe a hotel will come available," he said.

"Over Asha-Tanga? Not likely," she groused. "And those speeches don't count."

The overhead announced connecting flight 509, the Zalayna. Their flight.

"Why not?" Jack asked.

"Because nobody came. Or almost nobody. At Asha-Tanga, there will be a crowd for sure."

The Zalayna had come from Shin, en route to Saras. Three people unloaded and six boarded, including Zeta and Jack. The ship was packed. He'd not seen any transport this full before, and he was glad they wouldn't have to stay strapped in throughout the whole voyage.

The steward led them to their seats. The only other Americans were a family in the row in front of them, and Jack was surprised that they were there at all, but heard the oldest boy say something about the African Administration and friends from Shin.

Zeta, still nervous about her small part in the upcoming festival, suggested they go to the lounge as soon as the pilots called the "all clear" to unbuckle. When they did, Jack let himself out, and he and Zeeta made their way toward the lounge.

"It's Zeta," A high-pitched voice called as they went up the aisle. The speaker was maybe ten, a Squid girl. Older Squids, people like Zeta, often sported protrusions at random places all over their bodies, but the younger ones had protrusions that were small, tight, and confined to the top of their heads, like heavy dreadlocks. Fewer protrusions and greater consistency were signs that the protocols were improving, Jack had been told. Maliki, the Squid child that Zeta had helped settle on the station, had fewer health problems, a better future than Zeta herself.

Not that the progress changed how some viewed the issue, Jack thought as a couple of people pushed past, giving Zeta and the child a wide berth and hard stares.

"You are, aren't you?" the child was demanding. "Zeta Kulpola, the diplomat. You're my hero."

Zeta gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know that I've done anything heroic."

The mother was a tall, slender human in androgynous dress, who introduced themself with gender-neutral pronouns. The father was C'thon, shorter and stockier than most of his race, so that the couple were nearly the same size. Most of the C'thon Jack had met wore Consortium-style kurta and pants, but this one was wearing a skirt and was bare chested. The blue-black barrel chest reminded Jack of a killer whale's skin.

And I keep thinking my relationship with Zeta is odd, Jack reflected. Here were two individuals of indeterminate genders and different races, but they seemed totally at ease with each other. And they had a child.

"You have," the child was insisting. "You are the greatest person of our whole kind."

Zeta blushed and didn't answer. Jack bent to the child's level. "What's your name?"

"Naka," the child said.

"Arnanaka," the mother said. "But it goes by Naka. I'm Shollana, and this is Neeka." The C'thon bowed.

"Malika says you saved her mother's life from legal," Naka said.

"You know Malika?" Zeta asked Shollana.

"Not well. We met on the trip here. We've been on Angorak, but we've kept in touch with Shana on the network." Shollana's face softened. "And thank you for protecting her. It means a lot, personally and on behalf of the entire community."

"And you are?" Neeka asked Jack.

"You don't know?" a new voice interrupted. "That's the noodle guy."

Jack blushed and turned. Then he recognized the speaker. He smiled and accepted a hug from Cheyenne Walker. "And he protected my children. How are you doing, Jack?"

Cheyenne had her children and her partner, Lana, with her. They made introductions around the group. "Janda is traveling with us as well," Lana commented. "But we seem to have lost him, again."

Cheyenne laughed. "Consortium culture is more social than most Earth cultures, but Janda is social, even for them." To Naka she said. "And Zeta is one of my heroes too. But we are embarrassing her. Why don't we find a seat and talk?" She held out her hand for Naka.

"What did Zeta do for you?" Naka asked as they made for an empty table at the back of the lounge.

"She made my partner change her mind," Cheyenne joked. "And that is an incredible feat, let me tell you."

Lana gave her a playful push. To Zeta she said. "I merely reevaluated my opinion on this issue, based on knowing a real-world person, one who has been hurt by this unfortunate policy decision." 

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