Captain Takamura had offered the interior of the Human shuttle, but Yorell had refused, insisting that the only place she trusted to give them complete privacy was Ixbeth’s office on the top floor of the Kularian Archives. To Lania’s delight, Gorse let her drive part of the way to Capital City. The young one was a quick study. After less than a minute, she had the trada completely under control, rolling it smoothly along the road and turning it left and right with ease.
Ixbeth couldn’t help noticing that the more Lania demonstrated her Kularian mental powers, the darker the emotional auras of the two Reyota became. When Gorse stopped to let his passengers disembark outside the city gate, Yorell put a hand on his arm and advised him, “Conceal this vehicle from curious eyes, and then come up and join us. You need to hear what I have to say.”
His misgiving was a salty taste at the back of Ixbeth’s throat.
Ellisan had borrowed chairs from several offices on the floor below and had arranged them in a semicircle around Ixbeth’s desk. In the center of the desk sat a thick, stone-like tile beneath a large transparent pot of steaming hot dark brown liquid. Beside it, ten mismatched cups had been crowded onto a tray.
Anxiety. Ellisan stood just inside the door as the docent and her visitors entered the room. When Ixbeth turned to look at her, she bowed low and murmured, “Doshaya medhane, is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Not quite, Ellisan. Please run down to the kitchen and tell Suska Lorn I wish her to make a dozen of her special biscuits for my very special guests. Stay there and make sure the task is completed before she begins preparing the midday meal.”
“I will, doshaya medhane.”
Over the sound of Ellisan’s receding footfalls on the stairs, Ixbeth explained, “We have a very talkative cook, and I have an exceedingly polite assistant. I have already timed this particular errand. It will take her at least an hour to return. Until then we are alone. Everyone, please sit.”
Yorell gestured toward the pot on the desktop. “Is that caranth, Docent Minegar?” she asked hopefully.
“No. It’s a Human beverage that I learned to make aboard the Marco Polo,” she replied. “It’s called java.”
With that, Ixbeth began filling the cups and handing them out. She was pretty sure the Reyota wouldn’t like the flavor of this drink, but she didn’t much care. It had been brewed to welcome her invited guests. If the uninvited ones found it bitter enough, perhaps they would take the hint and leave a little sooner. Then she could ask the Humans for their help.
To her surprise, she was tasting enjoyment from Arfan D’Ull. His aura contained a streak of cruelty that was causing her sense hairs to rise. Apparently, Yorell’s son found his mother’s disappointment entertaining. It began to explain why a being in his position of power was not yet mated. With an inward shiver, Ixbeth returned her attention to Captain Takamura and his party.
For Humans, java was a symbol of hospitality. Commander Dedrick smiled and raised his cup in a silent salute to Ixbeth before taking a sip. She did the same and smiled back.
Sensing a tentative presence in the doorway, she glanced up and extended her smile to include Gorse as well, then waved at him to enter.
When everyone had been served, Yorell got to her feet. She placed her java untouched on the desktop, stared sadly at Lania for a couple of heartbeats, then turned to Ixbeth and said, “This is going to sound like a docent’s lecture, but it can’t be helped. Spurred by our earlier conversation, I’ve been researching some ancient history.”
“Mother…?” D’Ull warned.
She silenced him with a look. “Kula’as is being reborn. Like a kit fresh from the womb, it has no memory of events that took place in the distant past. And it needs to remember. We all need to remember. The Great Council may not care if entire races are left stumbling in the dark, but I do. You should care too, Arfan, because this visit by the Humans has opened a door that will never close tightly again.”
Takamura shifted in his seat. “Forgive me for interrupting, Madame Councilor, but is this a discussion you would rather we Humans didn’t overhear?”
“No,” she replied firmly. “What I’m about to reveal concerns both your races. I would ask, however, that you not repeat any of it outside this room.”
The Humans exchanged sober looks for a moment. Then all three adults faced forward and nodded assent. So did Gorse, although his eyes held a speculative gleam.
Ixbeth stole a glance at Lania and tasted a mixture of dread and anticipation. The young one sat attentively, holding her cup with both hands.
Satisfied, Yorell resumed speaking. “Thousands of years ago, there was an interstellar war. The Great War. When it was over, two home worlds were gone. One had been rendered uninhabitable by conventional weaponry, and the other had been completely destroyed — by Kularians using psi-powered ships.”
Ixbeth felt a sudden chill. “Like the one we used to isolate the Thryggians?”
“Exactly like it. The power these vessels demonstrated was out of all proportion to their size. It shocked and horrified every race in the galaxy. It also brought the war to a rapid conclusion. Because no one wanted such a terrible force ever to be unleashed again, the peace treaty included a promise by every signing race never to develop psi-powered technology, and never to allow their natural mental talents to become strong enough to pose a threat to any other race.”
“And the Kularians, who already had psi-powered technology…?” Gorse cut in.
“…were stripped of it,” D’Ull supplied. “Their psi-driven ships were dismantled and scrapped and they were forced to surrender every psi-powered device on their world. And for the next ten or fifteen generations, until alternative energy sources became the norm, Kula’as was carefully monitored.”
“Are we being watched now?” Ixbeth inquired.
“The Council has adopted a wait-and-see policy for the time being,” Yorell replied. “However, Kularian hybrids are returning from all over the galaxy, bringing with them technologies that they’ve been using on other planets. If word should ever get back to the Great Council that a brilliant inventor from one of those planets has developed a psi-driven vehicle and a way of amplifying psi energy to power it — or, worse, if his entire community has brought psi technology back to Kula’as…”
…or if a group is actually working to increase its psi powers, like the brotherhood on Altera…
Ixbeth swallowed, but could not banish the taste of her own dawning horror from the back of her throat.
“That’s not fair,” declared Gorse, nearly spilling his java as he sprang to his feet. “First of all, it’s not my whole community, it’s just me. And second, it’s a wagon, not a planet killer.”
“The treaty your ancestors signed does not distinguish greater or lesser degrees of transgression,” D’Ull informed him sternly. “It is binding on the Kularian race in perpetuity, and penalties will apply if any member of that race does not adhere to its terms.”
“Provided the Great Council finds out about it,” Yorell pointed out loudly, with a single hand gesture commanding D’Ull to be quiet and Gorse to sit back down. Looking straight at Ixbeth, she added, “At this point, there is no reason that it should find out. So, Gorse Pirrit is going to convert his wonderful trada to run on a more conventional power source and put his — headnet? — into storage, saving it for more important tasks.”
Intense curiosity. Opening his mouth to speak, Gorse was silenced by stared warnings issued simultaneously by Yorell, Ixbeth, and D’Ull.
The Humans had been sitting wide-eyed meanwhile, hardly daring to raise their cups to their mouths as they absorbed the scene unfolding before them. Ixbeth had been tasting their uncertainty and confusion since Yorell’s opening words. Now, the force of nature turned as though noticing them for the first time and said:
“Lania may look like a Human, but she has the mental abilities of a Kularian, and that is how the Great Council will see her — as a returning hybrid Kularian. When Docent Minegar told me of her plan to invite Lania to join her here at the Archives, I was intrigued. After hearing about her and seeing what she can do, I have no doubt that she would have found a peer group and flourished on this world. However, under the terms of the treaty, I’m afraid it cannot be allowed. As soon as the Great Council learned of the strength of her psi talents—”
“She would have to leave,” said Ixbeth sadly. “I understand.”
“No, my dear, it’s much worse than that. She would have to die. And if she fled, she would be hunted down and killed.” Speaking to the Humans, Yorell added, “If you value this young one’s life, you must never let the Great Council find out that she exists. Nor can they learn about any other Humans with the same mutation. Not having signed the treaty, Humanity is uncontrolled and already disquieting to the rest of us. Humans with psi powers would be considered the most dangerous race in the galaxy.”
Fear! Lania’s body went rigid. No, no, no, not a healing sleep, not now! As the girl’s empty cup rolled off her fingers to bounce on the floor, Ixbeth gathered every scrap of trust she possessed and began projecting for all she was worth.
An eruption of anger. “Gorse is right. This isn’t fair,” declared Deneuve, throwing a protective arm around Lania’s shoulders. “Captain, I’m sorry, but I can’t sit still and listen to this any longer and she shouldn’t have to either.” To Yorell she continued, “This child is no more a threat to the galaxy than his rainbow-colored wagon is. She isn’t even a natural mutation of our species. She’s a victim of the Thryggians, just as her parents were.”
That got both Reyota’s full attention. “A victim how, exactly?” demanded D’Ull.
Still hugging Lania, Deneuve made herself taller in her chair and stared a challenge at him. “She’s the last generation of a Thryggian genetics experiment performed on unwilling test subjects.”
Curiosity. “A genetics experiment?” Yorell echoed. “To produce what? What else can you tell us about her?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Deneuve replied, “When I analyzed her DNA, I found anomalies, some of which were also present in Ixbeth’s nucleic material.”
“So, the Thryggians have been purposely attempting to create beings with Kularian psi powers?” said Yorell, throwing a triumphant look in D’Ull’s direction.
“Purposely? That would be hard to say,” Deneuve remarked, visibly choosing her words. “But considering how determined those Thryggian pirates were to reclaim Lania’s parents and then Lania herself, I would strongly suspect that they had anticipated she would be special. They clearly wanted to keep her for themselves. It does suggest that someone with her extraordinary talents might have been the intended product of their experiment.”
A sudden cocktail of dark emotions flooded the room, taxing Ixbeth’s shield. The java was sweet, compared to the acrid taste that now invaded the back of her throat.
D’Ull was on his feet, confronting the Human healer. “Might have been?” he spat. “You strongly suspect? It suggests? But you don’t know anything for certain, do you? You’re guessing!”
Enough!
Ixbeth let out a growl, loud enough to command everyone’s attention. This was her office and these were her guests. They hadn’t come all the way from Earth space to be abused. Rising from her seat, she glared at D’Ull until he backed away from both her and Deneuve.
“She may not know, but I do,” Yorell informed him stiffly. “This isn’t a tribunal, Arfan. Just because a thing cannot be proven, that does not mean it isn’t true.” Picking up her cup, she settled onto a vacant seat. “I’ve been telling you for some time that there had to be another ship. Why else would the Thryggians have accepted their punishment so meekly? They didn’t even try to appeal their sentence. It was because we were giving them exactly what they wanted — complete privacy in which to continue their work undisturbed. After what we’ve just heard, perhaps now you’ll admit that I was right.”
D’Ull remained standing, his attention now riveted on his mother. “If you’re right, then they’re one year closer to achieving their objective. It may already be too late to stop them.”
“Not if we target the ship. And once again Avo’or has brought us together with everything we need to accomplish the task,” she told him, indicating with a wave of her hand all the beings sitting around her.
Ixbeth glanced at Lania and was pleased to see the young one sitting erect in her chair, guardedly observing the proceedings.
Wariness. “Forgive me, Madame Councilor,” Takamura broke in, “but before we are included in any sort of — activity? — especially if it involves the Thryggians, we Humans would appreciate some clarification as to its purpose.”
He was asking to be enlightened. Her gaze filled with teacherly indulgence. “It’s quite simple, Captain. The information your healer has just provided confirms a long-held suspicion of mine that the Thryggians may be in possession of a piece of Kularian psi-powered technology — in all probability a heavy ship capable of working the fabric of space. Recreating the Kularian genome in their laboratory would enable them to grow beings with the mental powers necessary to activate the device. Once they’d done that, the Thryggians would be impossible to keep imprisoned. They could make a space gate and leave their pocket universe anytime they wanted.”
“But if, as you say, all the psi-powered ships were confiscated and scrapped—” Dedrick began.
“Several had been reportedly destroyed in battle,” D’Ull explained. “However, the actual number was never verified. There was always a possibility — never proven — that one or two might have been hidden away as insurance just before the signing of the treaty. And it’s a matter of record that Kula’as and Thrygg were allies during the Great War.”
“We learned of the existence of one such concealed ship a number of years ago,” said Yorell. “Now, thanks to you, there is reason to believe that a second lies secretly stored somewhere in the Thryggian system. In the interests of averting interstellar conflict, it is of paramount importance that this device be removed and destroyed as soon as possible.
“We could share our knowledge with the Great Council, but then there would be a Tribunal, which would not be in the best interests of anyone in this room — or outside it, for that matter. The Kularians would be retroactively penalized for falsifying the tally of their ships after the Great War, and Lania’s existence would become known. If we notified the Reyot High Council, they would have no choice but to inform the Great Council. That leaves us with only one possible course of action.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Madame Councilor?”
Yorell drew herself up in a show of indignation. “Madame Councilor is suggesting no such thing, Captain. It would be highly inappropriate. However, private citizen Enne is proposing a clandestine visit to the Thryggian system, aboard your star ship.”
Swelling anticipation. Apparently, mystery wasn’t the only thing Humans enjoyed. Danger was exciting to them as well. “It sounds like an adventure. Normally, we would be glad to help. However, we have a Mitradean pilot aboard,” he pointed out, “and a Council-approved itinerary that does not permit side trips. I suspect that could present an insurmountable problem.”
“It won’t be a problem,” piped up Lania, instantly attracting startled looks from all the adults around her. “Odysseus is my friend. If I ask him for a favor, I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”
Bemusement. “Odysseus?” echoed Dedrick. “That’s the pilot’s name?”
“Well, no. His actual name isn’t even a word, but we need to call him something. I thought Odysseus would be a good name for him. After I told him the story of Odysseus, he agreed with me.”
“And what is this Odysseus’s story, Lania?” Yorell inquired, smiling.
“Odysseus was a warrior in ancient times on Earth, who sailed far from home to fight in a war. He won a great battle, but he offended the gods. So they decided to punish him by not letting him go home. After the war was over, they ordered the winds and the currents to work together to keep his ship traveling all over the sea for a very long time.”
Sadness. Yorell said, softly enough that she might have been talking to herself, “Yes, that is a very fitting name for a Mitradean.”
—— «» ——
Half an hour later, the sound and aroma of Ellisan bringing a plate of freshly baked biscuits forced a temporary stay of their discussion. However, the eight beings in Ixbeth’s office — including Lania, now feeling much braver and eager to “stick it to the Thryggians”, as Commander Dedrick had so colorfully put it — had already struck a groundbreaking agreement to work together on the Reyot mission. It hadn’t been an easy arrangement to hammer out. Listening to them bicker over details, Ixbeth realized that there was far too much disharmony for this ever to be more than an ill-fitting, short-lived collaboration. Then again, she consoled herself, it didn’t have to be. It just had to hold together long enough to get the job done.
And she had to figure out a way to piggyback onto it the rescue of fifteen treaty-violating Kularians. It wouldn’t be an easy task, but it could have been much harder. Thank the stars the entire Kularian community hadn’t chosen to stay on Dimmla!
When the biscuits were gone, Ixbeth sent Ellisan back to the kitchen to return the plate, thus purchasing the mission team another half hour of privacy in which to continue planning.
“We don’t need the original twelve senders,” Yorell insisted. “With a bit of practice and Gorse’s headnet, Lania should be able to direct enough psi energy at Ixbeth to run a Kularian ship and make and reseal a space gate. It’s a stealth mission, after all, and the fewer beings who know about it the safer we’ll all be.”
“Should be able? We had better be a lot more certain than that before we commit to this undertaking,” D’Ull declared.
“With your permission, Councilors,” Takamura broke in. “We installed alien shields and weapons aboard the Marco Polo on the strength of a ‘should be able’ and Lania’s AI used them to defeat nearly a dozen attacking Thryggian vessels. If Mr. Pirrit can confirm that what we’re carrying is in fact Kularian technology…?”
“…then I might be able to enhance it, enabling the Marco Polo to create its own gate into Thryggian space. That would remove the need for the first psi-driven ship,” Gorse offered. “No guarantees, but if it will simplify our plan and reduce our risk, I think it’s worth a try.”
Impatience. “And then what?” D’Ull sputtered. “Are you suggesting that we ride the Earth ship through the gate? Without knowing what will be waiting for us on the other side? Provided the Thryggians don’t detect the incursion immediately and send a heavily-armed fleet out to intercept us, we still have to shuttle Ixbeth and Lania to wherever the Kularian ship is hidden, exposing them to danger all the way down. And even if we managed that without losing anyone, the Marco Polo would be left without a strong psi talent aboard to maintain the shields. The Earth ship would be completely open to attack, no matter which side of the gate it was on. And Ixbeth is smiling,” he added, his exasperation a sharpness at the back of her throat. “Why are you smiling, Docent Minegar?”
She recomposed her features, then quietly announced, “Because I happen to know where there is a Thryggian vessel we might use to enter Thryggian space undetected.”
“Impossible!” snapped D’Ull. “We found and destroyed all their ships before the Tribunal’s sentence was carried out.”
“Like the Great Council found all the Kularian psi-driven ships?” Yorell countered. Even his mother was tiring of him at this point. Ixbeth could taste her irritation, as well as his resentment. And his fear. He doubted that the mission could succeed and was probably wishing he’d gone back to Reyi’it when he’d had the chance.
Too bad. Ixbeth fixed her gaze on his glowering face and told him in her sweetest voice, “If Avo’or wills it, Arfan, nothing is impossible.” Addressing the whole team, she added, “I also know where we can find a group of Kularians with strong psi talents who would be more than happy to help us on this mission and never speak a word about it later. But there’s a condition.”
Suspicion. “What’s the condition?” growled D’Ull.
Picking her words carefully, Ixbeth explained, “These Kularians are pure-blooded, like me. They’ve decided not to return to Kula’as. However, their current situation is no longer tenable, so they must find another place to live. They’ll need assistance in relocating. And our word that the Great Council will never learn about them. They’ll keep our secret, but we’ll have to keep theirs as well.”
“Pure-blooded with strong psi powers,” Yorell murmured. “They’re scholars, aren’t they? From Dimmla. That’s how you know about them. Is it safe to ask what they’ve been studying?”
It wasn’t, but pretending ignorance or refusing to answer would only raise other, more dangerous questions. So, Ixbeth replied, “They’re just trying to make sense out of some ancient writings. My parents and litter-brother are with them.”
Alarm, quickly muted. She turned in time to see Gorse consciously relax his shoulders.
Yorell traded looks with D’Ull, who then said, “All right. If they will help us to successfully complete this mission, then I promise that we’ll find them a sanctuary and keep their existence a secret.”
And if the mission failed?
It couldn’t fail, Ixbeth decided. In fact, she refused even to entertain the possibility.