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It was the perfect opportunity to dig for a little information. “How are your clanmates handling Station Alpha?”
“Rihep can handle anything. If you threw a wooden box at him and said, ‘live in there,’ he wouldn’t bat an eye.” Kuran’s smile deepened, his affection for his clan leader obvious.
“And your Imdiko?”
“Etnil’s complained nonstop.”
Stacy eyed him with confused concern. “Why are you laughing about it?”
“You have to understand Etnil. If he’s bitching, then everything is probably all right. I don’t worry until he goes quiet.” Kuran shook his head, snickering. “Our window vid stopped working last night. He said the view of Earth was the only reason he took the job. He got hold of sheet metal cutters this morning before I left and pretended he was cutting a window in the hull. He said, ‘The vacuum of space will kill us, but what a wonderful view as we gasp for air.’”
Stacy’s laughter joined his. It wasn’t the only tale she’d heard of Etnil’s sense of humor. For a psychologist, he was quite the cutup.
She quieted as they approached the outskirts of another city. Kuran didn’t take them as far as where the tallest buildings stretched skyward. It was on the outer border where the Government Hall, also the governor’s residence, sat in the middle of ten acres of manicured grounds. It would be her home until voters tossed her out or she ran the length of allowed terms.
Kuran might have been dismissive of Earther building and landscaping preferences, but Stacy thought the stretch of green grass and plots of flowers and vegetable gardens were lovely. He banked around the white building itself, an impressive edifice with two wings and columns reaching its four-story height. It was elegant but not overly showy, in her opinion. The Saucin’s residence on Plasius was far more ostentatious, and the Dantovonian prime minister had a compound that stretched a square mile.
“Home sweet home,” Kuran said. “We should have brought a booster pack, so you could jump from the shuttle and land on the lawn for a dramatic entrance.”
“Don’t start on our first day, now.”
They grinned at each other.
* * * *
Stacy flushed as her entrance to the reception was greeted by a crash of applause. Those aliens who didn’t possess hands to clap made their acclamations in other ways. Everyone was on their feet or hovering in the air to welcome Earth’s new leader.
When the hubbub died down, she accepted the speaker box Kuran handed to her. “Thank you so much, but the accolades rightly belong to you. If not for the Galactic Council of Planets and its membership, there wouldn’t be an Earth for me to preside over. I’m especially grateful to the huge contributions of the Kalquorian Empire, the planets Joshada and Plasius, and the Alneusian Confederation.”
After a few additional remarks about how she hoped her people’s new beginning pointed to success in the Galactic Council community, she wrapped up. Stacy wasn’t big on speeches, preferring action to words. The reception was soon in full swing, and representatives of the many worlds converged upon her.
“Congratulations again on a well-deserved election, Dramok Mereta,” Stacy said when the secretary-general of the Galactic Council greeted her. “I understand you’re the first Kalquorian to lead the Galactic Council in four hundred years.”
“Thank you, Governor.” The gentle face framed by graying hair was serene. “The honor is in being chosen to serve the council’s members. I hope I am up to the task.”
From anyone else, his statement would have resounded in false modesty. However, Mereta was the real deal. He’d been a priest of Kalquor’s Temple of Life, then founder of his own sect of the ancient philosophy. He’d brought his serene clarity to the empire’s Royal Council, then to the Galactic Council. Though he had millions of devotees, he wasn’t known to impose his spiritual beliefs. Indeed, he never spoke of them unless he was asked.
The first time she’d met him as secretary-general-elect, when her name had been put forth as a potential interim governor for Earth, Stacy had been ready to fend off the foolishness of a zealot. After all, she’d grown up under the governance of the original Earth’s Holy Leader. Browning Copeland had been a man who spoke of God’s love but forced the majority of Earthers to live in a cultish hell. Stacy was leery of those who fashioned themselves as arbiters of any holy path.
At their initial meeting and the subsequent half dozen that followed, Mereta hadn’t mentioned salvation or sin. He’d kept their conversations to what Stacy brought to the table when it came to the success of restarting Earther civilization, her objectives for her people’s new home planet, and the obstacles she saw ahead. He listened more than he spoke, and his inquiries were never judgmental. Though she knew the barest details of Mereta’s faith, she found herself understanding why he was a sought-for leader. His nomination to the secretary-general post had met little resistance from the member planets.
“I believe we’ve put Earth’s future in capable hands,” he said now, his smile warm.
“Thank you. Like you, I’ll do all I can to serve my people and give us a good start.”
“I have no doubt of it. If you ever require aid, you have only to ask the Galactic Council.”
“Thank you, Secretary-General.”
He bowed and made room for the next well-wishers. As the emperors and empress of Kalquor bowed, Stacy returned the greeting.
“I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to see this day arrive. Only the landing of the first colonists will supersede such a momentous occasion,” Dramok Emperor Clajak told her. His steel-colored hair, a mutation of the usual black most Kalquorians possessed, framed a handsome face.
“I bet I’m more excited.” Empress Jessica, an elfin woman whose short stature belied her fiery temper, grinned at Stacy. “Our new home world has exceeded expectations, in my opinion.”
“Mine as well,” Stacy agreed. “Run by a different government, I hope our success will be far greater.”
Jessica crossed her fingers. “Don’t plant any bombs under the cities, okay?”
