VOX PROTOCOL: Chapter Five

Son of Lirdah

Vox Protocol Table of Contents

“Andromeda, come to my office immediately.”

Andri, caught in bed and off duty, still tangled in Lance’s arms and wearing somewhat less than Republic High Professional dress, moved a bit laconically to answer Masadi’s summons over communicator. When she finally got to his office on the Chionis—about the size of a credit chit, and just as warm—she wore a hastily thrown-together mélange of gray slacks, a tight white blouse, and a silver professional half-haori, her hair held in a bun by a driftwood hair stick Lance had found for her at Kor’lana Seta. It still smelled of salt air and the sea.

“Yes, sir? What schemes could have you summoning me at 0600 hours?”

Masadi also looked worse for wear after all the champagne; he nursed a hangover with Cetian herbal tea, probably foisted onto him by Kor’en, and he blanched at the taste. Andri sometimes thought his hatred of the tea had more to do with his discomfort with his Cetian heritage than it did with its inherent bitterness.

“The Vox has requested your presence on a trip to Aedani Province, where crop yields are badly affected by the gamma-ray attack. Their agricultural center was in the perimeter of the strike—what we’re calling the yellow zone.”

Andri felt her eyebrows fly up. “That’s surprising. What side of the bed did he wake up on, after all that champagne?”

“The industrious one.” Masadi huffed grumpily, grabbing out a silicone medical packet of analgesic from inside his desk. “I hate people who wake up alive-awake-alert-enthusiastic after more than a bottle of brut. He wants to leave today. You’ll take Lance as your bodyguard… and please try to keep your hands off each other. Figure out what the Vox is up to. Provide as much indication of how much we could help as possible, without telling him how they could do it themselves. I doubt they could, anyways.”

Andri frowned. “They’re just as advanced as we are, sir—more so, on some metrics.”

He tilted his chin down, voice dark. “They don’t know how to handle this much gamma radiation damage. If they could, they’d have done it already. I suspect the Skelow have offered them another century-long loan to ‘fix’ the problem, and they’re so reliant on Kalur’s tech that they can’t think their way around the problem. Sound familiar?”

Andri’s mouth tugged at one corner. “Awful grumpy with the Cetians today, aren’t you? Kor’en take you to task for all the drinking?”

Masadi pressed an ice pack to his face. “Worse—she’s sympathetic. Waited for me right outside my room with tea. Reminds me of my father.”

Andri propped her hands on her hips. “What’s so wrong with someone being sympathetic? Wanting to take care of you? Especially your own dad?”

Masadi sighed at her, like he didn’t have the brainpower to explain something he found essentially human to her face. Maybe he didn’t.

“Just go get ready, and while you’re at it, toss Lance in the damn shower. The Vox and his detail are picking you up at 0800 hours. Bring an overnight bag, just in case your train’s delayed or waylaid.” He smirked. “Nothing but crops and agribusiness problems to solve. You’ll be happier than a pig in shit.”

Andri scoffed at him. “Stop talking like some homesteader off the rad-reclamation sites. Doesn’t make you any less half-Cetian, sir.”

~*~

Arrow Train Terminal, P’aetre-Zhae City, Zehyr

“I haven’t ridden the arrow train in nearly twenty years.” Lance spoke under his breath so only Andri could hear him, and she detected both wonder and nerves in his tone. Quickly, she reached between them, using the folds of her professional hakama to hide the gesture as she squeezed his hand.

“You prepared to see the damage?” Andri asked. “It might be shocking, out in the yellow zone.”

“I don’t know.” She could at least appreciate his honesty. “We shall find out together, Shield of Beauty.”

Andri squeezed his hand one more time. “It’ll be okay. I love you.”

A pause, as if he worried about being overheard or needed to think. “You complete my life. Look fast—the Vox is coming.”

Lance dropped her hand first, and Andri moved both arms behind her back like a resting corporal. The Vox approached, as stunning as the night before, even in supple field bark-leathers and a tunic of some rough natural fabric, with evidence of dandelion-like seeds strewn throughout. His gold-lined nanite tattoos glimmered in the reddish sunlight through the station’s glass ceiling—a shocking thing, all one pane, organic shapes and swirls of color throughout. It framed him perfectly, strange beauty on beauty.

“This train is loading supplies for Aedani Province, but we have the passenger car to ourselves, Attaché.” He glanced to Andri’s left and switched to Zehyrian. “Consular Lance, was it? You’ll join the security detail. You needn’t go too far from your charge, but if you could assist with patrols on the freight cars, the Vox’s Lance would appreciate it.”

Andri listened to the words they used in Zehyrian, in addition to her implant’s cochlear translations. He called his Lance Voice Lance—likely a ceremonial title. That meant there would be Voice Shields and Voice Wings and perhaps a Voice Hammer, all roles in a security team such as the ones Lance had commanded during his time in the AMG.

Lance said something short and sharp in Zehyrian that didn’t translate, but it sounded belligerently affirmative, and off he went without a glance back. Andri bit back a sigh, wishing sometimes that Lance had a more human sense of romance to him. He’d made a study of some matters of human chivalry, and he loved himself a historom vid, but that didn’t mean human romantic feelings had baked themselves into his bones. The same problem went in the other direction, of course.

That left Andri and the Vox alone; she felt like a pigmy creature beside him, wishing already for Lance’s comparative shortness among Abni-S’zaleyn men. Perhaps catching her eyeing him, the Vox smiled and gestured in a very human fashion, showing her the way to his passenger car on the train with a flourish.

“You’re tall for a yumei woman, I believe? The average is 165 centimeters, and you’re well above that. You must have been one of the tallest girls amongst your playmates.”

He spoke conversationally, making small talk to put her at ease; he demonstrated all the hallmarks of the same basic interspecies relations education Andri had received for her job with the consulate. Up ahead, the shining second-most car of the sleek mag-lev arrow train came into view, aerodynamic surface waxed white, highlighted with the same gold and sky-blue lines of the Vox’s nanite tattoos.

“I was generally the tallest girl in my class, yes,” Andri told him, studying the arrow train as they passed. The passenger car, well-outfitted and rendered luxurious for the Vox, had a very different appearance from the gunmetal gray of the mag-lev cars, which now received boxes of freight carried by large Abni-S’zaelyn hands. “Why isn’t the station loading with robotic armature or exo-suit support?”

The Vox chuckled ruefully. “We’ve long found it economical to use strengthening nanites and manpower to load most freight, rather than expensive robotics. Artificial intelligence rights in the STF are such that it was no longer worth it to develop the technology into generalized intelligence, not once we became a client state of Kalur. If you use advanced robotics, the Taninu Priesthood has the right to inspect, and they tend to charge for the privilege.” He handed her up into the passenger car, helping her negotiate the high—Abni-sized—step. “You must feel like a Kwee among Verrantin here. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable, after always being amongst the tallest.”

Andri allowed him to guide her to a chair, finding the accommodation in the passenger car large and squashy, each chair pivoting to the windows to watch the scenery and to other chairs for conversation. The Vox stowed her overnight bag for her in some netting along the wall.

“Not… entirely like a Kwee, no.” She smiled at him. “Maybe a bit like when I was a child and everything in the adult world felt just a bit too big for me. On the bright side,” she said, now swiveling her chair this way and that with her feet barely touching the ground, toes only, “it’s roomy!”

The Vox laughed, directing his team as they began to board the car. Andri couldn’t determine everyone’s purpose; it struck her that all Abni-S’zaelyn professions had their own specialized hierarchies and vaguely ceremonial roles, and nearly everyone had a title and a lesser or a better, depending on whether they functioned as senior or junior. She heard the title “Big Scribe”—a terrible translation, about as literal as you could get—and figured Big Scribe acted as the Vox’s secretary.

She would never learn any of their names, no more than she would learn the Vox’s real name; she would be lucky to learn Lance’s, if he ever acquiesced to marrying her, and perhaps she’d find out the given names of his close family members. Even friends and lovers on Zehyr seldom progressed to given-name intimacy, as a matter of tradition and history. As evidence of his unfamiliarity with human openness on the point—despite years away from Zehyr—Lance only used Andri’s name in intimate moments and conversations, though he did so with immense satisfaction.

When the Lance returned, he had a young man trailing behind him. “Little Scribe, this is Attaché Kordova of the Earth Republic consular mission. Will you secure the screen for us, please?”

Andri listened closely, noticing the Vox used a very long and strange construction of the Zehyrian phrase for “please,” as if that too from the Vox’s lips became somehow ceremonial. Little Scribe made a small, affirmative sound in his throat (he couldn’t be older than nineteen) and started to move a large folding screen from the back wall of the passenger car to the Vox’s position. He sat down opposite Andri beside a window, eyes on operations outside… watching the loaders hefting enormous boxes of freight, three to four times more than a human could lift without power armor.

Andri spoke up, remembering her mission. “What’s this train bringing to Aedani Province? I assume all train operations are too important to waste a trip in either direction.”

“Well…” The Vox sneered very briefly, a look of cynicism briefly touching his features, before he cleared it away. “There’s little to bring back from Aedani, now most of the population’s been evacuated. The occasional stray animal… important artifacts or belongings left behind… failed equipment from failed attempts… useless Belvarian ‘experts’ who truck out to offer expensive solutions.” He settled back, meeting Andri’s eyes. “But you’re right that the journey out is too precious to waste. We’re bringing clean food and uncontaminated water for the laborers and scientists who remain there, doing important work in the zone.”

Andri frowned. “How did the water get contaminated? I would think… with a gamma ray burst….”

The Vox waved his hand, head back against his seat and eyes hooded as though the conversation tired him.

“Nothing exciting, I’m afraid. Gamma rays are high-energy particles. Point enough of them at a flammable source, and you have a conflagration. The black zone—so called by you yumei—is black because of the scorch, where the Forests of Myrzok burned. The heat was so intense that large coal deposits beneath the ground caught fire, contaminating the atmosphere and thousands of kilometers of soil in the red and yellow zones. It’s spread across the planet; you can see it today, smell it in the air we breathe.”

Andri took a deep breath of filtered air inside the passenger car; since first walking around outside, she’d smelled the ash and tasted the scorch in her throat. Their consular briefings had limited visibility into what had happened on Zehyr in the weeks and months after the gamma-ray strike, but she was surprised to see the fires had escaped notice in their reports.

“And coal is radioactive, so the contamination must be extensive. Why are you still trying to grow crops in Aedani Province if you know there’s radioactive contamination in the yellow zone?”

The Vox slowly spread his hands in a studied human gesture. “What are they to do? It’s the largest grain-yielding region on the planet, what yumei call a… bread box?”

“Bread basket. It’s what we call our wheat-growing regions.” Andri watched the loading slow down, and the workers all patted the doors with one hand after they shut the loading bays up tight, as if to wish the cargo good luck. “The cataclysms of the twenty-first century hit our bread baskets hard; it’s why we switched to vertical hydroponics and largely to rice and other grains. We still use wheat, of course, but it’s not a staple food source. Your staple is a grass grain called kh’shae, if I’m correct?”

“A quick study, as you humans call it,” he noted, revealing the same. Mysteriously, he pulled a small metal container from his pocket, sprinkling a bit of its content into his palm, and popping them into his mouth. He chewed smilingly as he went on. “We’ll be on our way soon, Attaché.”

Andri smelled that carraway seed scent again. “What is it that you’re chewing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The Vox’s eyes twinkled invitingly at her, but he had an embarrassed gleam to his eyes. “Ah… they’re kh’zo, a common herb seed. It’s an old habit from my province, as they’re known to keep the teeth clean and sweeten the breath. Hard to escape, even for the Vox.”

Andri cocked her head, examining him. Do I make him nervous?

~*~

True to its name, the arrow train took off like a shot. The city seemed to go on and on in endless concentric circles, and when the official suburbs and exurbs began to peter away, the refugee camps began. Half government-built and half ramshackle jury-built mass of resourceful people in community, much of each camp took advantage of hexagonal storage containers and old freight shipment. The camps formed a new ring of city almost as large as the original P’aetre-zhae before them.

When the refugee camps ended, grassy plain emerged. At first, Andri marveled at the sheer numbers of animals here, in paddocks and roaming free between them, both wild and livestock... until she realized that she now looked at a refugee camp of another kind.

“These animals... were some evacuated from the yellow and red zones?”

The Vox’s smile flickered on and off again; she sensed her guess impressed him.

“Yes—you’re looking at one of the largest zoological evacuation projects the planet of Zehyr has ever embarked upon. A mammoth effort. Beasts of burden, keystone species, heritage species, livestock, prize genetic stock, domestic pets, zoo animals, endangered species... if you dream it, we may have it on the outskirts of P’aetre-zhae. Many z’hi-cha without their caretakers, I’m afraid.”

The word he used didn’t translate cleanly; her implant told her unhelpfully that the Vox meant an animal of some kind.

“A pet species?”

The Vox indicated with two fingers—very polite and quite knowledgeable, to the point of impressing her—out the window. Every three hundred meters or so, a sheltered paddock, fenced from floor to ceiling, would emerge. The train moved too quickly for Andri to see the creatures inside.

“A favored domestic animal, especially in family groups with children. They’re small ursoids; you might call them caniforms on Earth.”

Andri couldn’t tell much about the creatures—or maybe “critters” would be the right word—but she caught a glimpse of cream, orange, and gray-colored fur, round bodies, and fluffy tails... some of them striped. Raccoons, she thought with amusement, before correcting herself. Maybe raccoonoids? Ha. That the Abni-S’zaelyn kept something raccoon-like as a pet tickled her, but it seemed oddly fitting. They were scrappy, fierce, resourceful... and if you saw one, you could reliably wait and see another. Loyal when they pair off, too.

“How have you been trying to reunite the... z’hi-cha, did you say?... with their caretakers?”

The Vox pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. By Abni standards, it looked a bit long, maybe for traditional purposes. Lance always got agitated when his hair grew longer than four centimeters.

“We’ve put the word out and invited those missing a pet to come to the paddocks and identify it. Those with medical nanites, we’ve traced back to their people. It’s slow going and difficult, however.”

Andri nodded. “On Earth, in the wake of the Howl Event and the hyperonic hurricane that hit Toronto, the animal shelters took photos of every animal with all their identifying marks, then added them to a database. People could look through the database for their animals and make an appointment. When a family came in, the animals and humans met in a small room, and the vets judged the animal’s behavior. Within six months, most of the animals had gone to their people… or to good homes, if their people died in the hurricane.”

The Vox listened closely; when Andri said “database,” he rapped his knuckles against the screen, and Little Scribe appeared with a screenless keyboard to take notes. He asked Andri to repeat a couple things, and when Little Scribe had the notes, the Vox patted him on the shoulder to dismiss him. Only once the screen returned to its place did the Vox smile wryly at her.

“I appreciate the advice, one superweapon-affected society to another. I’m surprised you didn’t offer to do it for us. For the right price, of course.”

Andri sighed, leaning back in her huge seat and watching the countryside roll by, where alien ruminants grazed. She suspected—because the Abni still slaughtered and ate flesh from once-living animals for heritage purposes—that these animals would ultimately go to the butcher, but they had woolly coats as well. Perhaps they provided material for cloth instead.

“You’re more than capable of doing it yourselves as a society. It’s just a matter of experience and logistical manpower, and I’m guessing the latter is hard to come by. I don’t mind providing a little experience that worked for us, in case it works for you.” Her lips and eyebrow quirked as she met his eye. “No charge.”

He adjusted, and while most of Andri’s experience with Abni-S’zaelyn consisted of time spent with Lance, she judged the Vox’s expression as “intense.”

“I’d like to get a sense of how our peoples differ on a point, if you’ll indulge my curiosity.”

Andri cocked her head, intrigued that he knew the expression. “Sure. Go ahead. I live to indulge.”

His eyebrow also quirked, indicating intrigue. “Are you considered attractive among humans?”

Andri bit back a surprised laugh at the boldness of his question.

“Um. Yes. I suppose so.” She adjusted the sleeves of her professional haori self-consciously, her favorite one: pale and shining gray with pink apricot flowers.

“How attractive, would you say? Give me a comparison, if possible.” His eyes remained intense, but compared with some of the officials and celebrities she’d handled in the past, the Vox didn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Fairly attractive—very attractive for a normal civilian, but middling among entertainers. Not quite good enough for a Torelli model.”

“That’s fashion, I assume?” He propped an elbow on his armrest, resting his jaw against two fingers as he took her in. “Is being abnormally attractive a qualification for working as an attaché in the Earth Republic diplomatic service?”

Andri grinned, blushing. “No. But it certainly helps.” She observed him. “Are you considered attractive among Abni-S’zaelyn?”

“Middling.” He shrugged his shoulders once in a way she had to call studied. “The attractive ideal for men in my society are fighters—men like the Vox-Lance particularly. Have you noticed him?”

Andri blinked; the most she’d observed about the Vox’s Lance was the way he interacted with her Lance, and their mutual respect. That Zehyr had chosen him as a specimen of warrior attractiveness seemed fitting, however.

“A bit. Trophy security team, huh? Like getting an honor guard from Fireman Jamboree.”

Now the Vox smiled wide. “What is that? Sounds intriguing.”

“A famous male striptease show on Earth,” Andri laughed. “They make a tour of all the big Joyplexes every year, entertain the whole planet with glistening oiled chests. Pretty fun for bachelorette parties.” She enjoyed the Vox’s white smile in response, seeing she’d legitimately amused him. “So the Vox isn’t chosen for his attractiveness? Strange. Humans would either choose a strongman or a pretty boy if we wanted a voice for the whole planet. Our prime minister’s a pretty boy, for instance. I figured that’s one reason you were chosen.”

The Vox’s eyes glittered. “You’d describe me as a ‘pretty boy’? Is that a good thing?”

Andri raised her chin imperiously. “If you like that kind of thing. But yes—you’re like an Abni version of a pretty boy. A Viking Torelli model or a Sirian cologne ad.”

Andri knew she’d said a lot of words the Vox justly wouldn’t be able to understand, and she didn’t explain herself. He smiled nevertheless, and she again detected the pinkening of his skin between lines of nanite tattoos.

“Were you chosen for this mission with Ambassador Masadi because of your attractiveness?” he asked baldly.

Andri recrossed her legs, considering. “If you check my resume, you’ll see I’ve worked with Masadi on all of his missions for the last four years. We have a dim sense of what different cultures find attractive. For Skelow, I’m a bit too tall. I’ve had one Kimbellite find me interesting, but he’s a known epicure and collector—if you told me he’d banged a Den’omu, I wouldn’t be surprised. Am I attractive by Zehyrian standards? Your line of questioning tells me the answer’s yes.”

He spoke a little darkly, voice deep. “Very. Maybe not on Melor, among the diaspora, where people are used to Skelow beauty standards and Kimbellites. But on Zehyr?” He paused, eyes flicking up and down her body. “A warrior goddess made flesh. I’d put you on a fresco.”

Andri felt herself flush hot. She had a million follow-up questions, though none of them decided to emerge first from the bottleneck in her throat; while she floundered, a small rap sounded on the opposite side of the screen. The Vox knocked back with a languid, slightly smug expression, having effectively stumped her.

The screen slid open, revealing the Vox-Lance. Now she knew he was the Torelli model of security providers, Andri cast an appreciative eye on him. Still not as hot as my Lance, she thought after very little assessment.

“The consular Lance has finished rounds and wishes to check on the attaché,” he told the Vox in a quiet voice. The Vox frowned, gesturing at her.

“She’s well. The entire car’s under my security detail. Haven’t you established hierarchical roles and duties yet?”

The Vox-Lance shifted feet subtly with nerves or discomfort.

“He’s... very yumei-influenced... and has a strong sense of his duties with the consulate, which are different from standard security hierarchy.”

The Vox pressed his lips together and sat in silence for some time, perhaps thoughtfully.

“It’s temporary. We have no idea what the ambassador expects from him. Show him in, let him get eyes on his charge. Don’t give him any trouble.”

“My thoughts as well, Voice.” The Vox-Lance ducked out, leaving the screen open a bit, and returned with Lance in tow, speaking to him lowly. “Feel free to ascertain her safety, F’heja. Remember we have security rounds in eight minutes.”

Lance muttered an affirmation in Zehyrian, then entered to see Andri’s greeting smile. Relief crossed his expression the moment he clapped eyes on her.

“Attaché Kordova. You feel well? You have everything you need?” His gaze darted to the window. “You’re sitting backward, and I know you tend to get motion sick on ground transport.”

Andri’s smile didn’t dim. “Masadi made sure I took my pill before we left. Look at these chairs! I was just telling the Vox that I feel like a kid in one of these.”

Lance’s eyes darted to the Vox, taking the reminder that he stood in front of the Voice of Zehyr without a twitch. The Vox surveyed him with an appreciative eye.

“You two have a strong working relationship. Have you been with the consulate for a while, Lance?”

“No—only since their mission to Kor’lana Seta. I served with the Odyssey before that.” Lance kept his eyes on Andri for much of this, but when he said “Odyssey,” he met the Vox’s eyes. Perhaps in challenge.

The Vox made a face. “K’ha. The Odyssey, with its prevaricating little commander. She’s the one who tried to protect the Karabari from us—lashes upon their loins forever.”

Lance remained professional and unemotional. “My High Commander justly prevented revenge on innocent civilians for the crimes of the Karabari Priests. Had Zehyrian defense forces acted rashly, Zehyr would have owed remediation and adjudication fines for another century.”

The Vox grunted lowly. “You’ve been away from Zehyr too long, haven’t you? Even if we owed for a century, our need for justice would have been satisfied. Your tiny human commander prevented us from landing the blow we needed. It’s been a problem in the years since.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully, the expression far more natural from him, now he’d spent so much time among humans.

“Of course, I’m not a member of the political class, so I don’t know. If we’re forced to find another way, then we must.”

“We must.” The Vox scrutinized him. “You’ll be returning to the stars with your human friends, won’t you?” When Lance didn’t say anything, the Vox glaced at Andri for a second... then back to Lance. “You’ll be checking on your family while you’re here, I trust? Where are you from?”

“Lirdah Province. I plan to see how they fare as soon as I get leave to go.”

The Vox made a purely Zehyrian gesture with his hand, an open-palmed horizontal wave. “Lirdah was comparatively untouched, and their agricultural products in demand, they’re slated to do well. Good fortune is with your people.”

Andri smiled to hear that, but something in the Vox’s words—all Zehyrian straight to Lance—made him straighten uncomfortably.

“Yes. They’ve been fortunate, compared with the rest of the planet. I doubt the event hasn’t affected them, however. I ought to—”

“Of course.” The Vox interrupted him, keeping Lance from excusing himself to leave, and looked at Andri. “Your former lover... do you know what province he was from? Perhaps he answered the call and returned home to assist his people.”

Andri noticed a jaw muscle jumping in Lance’s cheek, indicating his nerves and his anger. She tried not to stare at him for too long.

“Like a good professional man of Zehyr, he never told me his name. Without good reason to discuss it, he wouldn’t bring up his home province either.”

Lance’s eyes twinkled when their gazes met. Ever the professional, his expression seemed to say. Andri knew a good diplomat would have no issues lying in this situation—like Masadi—but she preferred to hew as close to the truth as she could manage. Easier to keep track of the things she said if they remained mostly true.

“Well... let me know if you’d like help tracking him down. If he’s on-planet, there’s no province where we couldn’t find him.” The Vox shot a look at Lance. “Shouldn’t you be assisting the team with security rounds?”

Diabolical, Andri thought, half annoyed and half admiring.

Lance straightened his spine, eyes flashing to Andri with a small smile. “I hear your reminder. I’ll be back to check on Attaché Kordova at the midpoint of our journey, Vox.”

“Be sure to take advantage of the view as we travel,” the Vox told him. “Take it in. It’s a valuable tour of what’s happened to your world, Son of Lirdah.”

Vox Protocol Table of Contents

Thank you for reading! You can read Andri and Lance’s first romance, referenced here as the engagement ruse, in “Kor’lana Lights,” available now in Fireworks and Flirtation. And of course, please subscribe to read on! I’ll be posting chapters weekly.

Necessary author plug: I have another publication coming up! I’ll be in Fantastical Foes, the next zine from Tender and Tempting Tales, in a couple different capacities: as an author of an article on fantasy, and with my very own urban romantasy story in my Watermarks universe, “Devil’s Handiwork.” This will be my first Watermarks publication, in addition to my first enemies-to-lovers story and my first romantasy. I’m so excited! Please do follow me on Instagram for tidbits about my story, and to see fun event pictures! I have some author and Valkyrie events coming up this summer, and I’m so excited to meet and talk to readers!