Incursion Vector

013

And though he had never considered it possible eight years ago, Methuselah had become as much a part of his family as those of the Avicenna where he had grown up. The new perspectives they had given him on things beyond the fleet were something he treasured, even if he would never fully agree with them on a few matters. That everyone in his flight had stood by him for days while he waited for word about his family, that they were all ready to defend him without question before everyone else if he returned to the fleet despite the fact it meant he would be leave their wing down another pilot—it was a sort of respect he had never expected to find among the outsiders his father had ordered him to join.

As a child he had loathed the fact he had been named after his outsider grandfather. Growing up he had been ridiculed constantly for it by his peers in the fleet. The boy with the outsider name, son of the outspoken woman who did not pray to Allah and the fool who had married her without making her accept the faith. Years later he finally understood that his mother had a very good reason to be proud of where she had come from, and Leo counted himself extremely fortunate at having fallen in with the same caliber of people. Old hatreds lingered on both sides, but he had always been just another pilot to those whom he now counted as his dearest friends.

It was going to be just as difficult to leave them as it had been to leave his family for the Heinlein when the time came.

"Greetings to you, Leopold ibn Yusuf al Avicenna."

Striding out of the office as his secretary opened the door for him, Leo finally saw that the emissary was a thin man with a graying beard down to his belly, balding at the crown, and dressed in a traditional white thawb. With as much attention as he seemingly paid to his self-presentation Leo thought it odd he wasn't also wearing both an agal and bisht to present the full, somewhat stereotypical, picture of an Arabian prince. For the effect he had chosen to wear his dress blue uniform to the meeting, complete with his rank insignia, pilot's wings, the decorations he had received as a result of the First Contact Incident, and his red-and-white keffiyeh draped around his neck. It was a rather blatant statement of his dual alliance, and judging by the tightness that formed around the man's eyes it had worked as intended.

"I am Abu Bilal Salim ibn Da'ud al Tassili," said the emissary, his empty right hand raised in greeting. "The loss of your father and the near-loss of your grandfather lessens our strength greatly."

"We have lost many of our kin but we will remain strong," replied Leo. He could tell the man's words were hollow; he may have sympathy for his grandfather Zayed but there was no love for his father in his eyes and he hadn't even bothered mentioning his sister. It was nothing he had not expected coming in.

"We must discuss your future." Salim motioned towards a low table around which was placed several rugs reminiscent of the days when the Bedouin had roamed the sands instead of the stars. There was fine china laid out on a red runner down the center in which, he assumed, steeped traditional sweet tea usually offered to one's guests in greeting. He seated himself at the one of the short ends of the rectangle and waited patiently for Leo to join him.

Seating himself briefly, Leo accepted the offering of tea. After a sip he decided that his grandfather's was superior—he never made it from the powdered concoctions that seemed to dominate the sundries available in space, which was exactly what the emissary had served him. It still had the mealy texture of sand at the bottom of the cup. "My future is not yours to decide nor is it yours to discuss." He left the table and stood with his hands clasped at the small of his back. "I have sent my wishes to my brother Zizka who will deliver them to my grandfather once he has undergone his surgeries."

Salim forced an impassive smile onto his age-lined face. "I am sorry, ibn Yusuf, but your brother is not old enough to be responsible for your family and your grandfather is incapacitated. None of your uncles are sons of Zayed ibn Hamid, and even if they were able to assist your brother, this tragedy has likewise made them all heads of their own clans now, thus our laws forbid it. There is no one else to take the place of an Ibrahim save yourself, and the place must be preserved.”