The Kularian shields were collapsed and the short-hopper taken safely aboard as soon as the space gate was confirmed to be sealed shut. After some routine diagnostics, all normal systems were reactivated, returning control of the Marco Polo to her various consoles, and prompting exhalations of relief from the officers and crew working at them.
The mission debriefing had been delayed by two hours so that Doctor Deneuve could put Ixbeth, Lania, and Commander Eberhart through a battery of neurological tests. Deneuve especially needed to satisfy herself that the shuttle pilot had suffered no lasting effects from being “rendered unconscious for her own protection” by the brotherhood. She found none and was forced to pronounce Eberhart unscathed and fit for duty. Sitting in the adjacent cubicle in Med Services, Ixbeth had tasted Deneuve’s reluctance to speak these words.
It was understandable. Head trauma — or anything else that caused a loss of consciousness — was a serious problem for Humans, so much so that not only their healers worried about it. As if to prove Ixbeth’s point, a wave of relief rolled through the strategy room as Eberhart entered, smiling, and took a seat across the table from her.
When all the available mission team members were present, Takamura began the debriefing by remarking to Eberhart, “You’re looking well, Commander.”
“Thank you, sir. Doctor Deneuve has checked me out and I feel fine.”
“It has been confirmed that no modifications of any kind were made to the short-hopper. And yet, the Kularians aboard that vessel were able to create a space gate. Did you notice anything that might explain how they managed it?”
Sampling the auras of the various beings around the conference table, Ixbeth tasted curiosity from the captain, impatience from the Reyota, and anxiety from Commander Dedrick, whose thoughts were no doubt of Lania, still under observation in Med Services. Ixbeth also tasted the bitterness of frustration, an emotion emanating primarily from Councilor D’Ull. Gorse Pirrit must have tasted it too. It was making him smile.
“I didn’t actually see them make the Gate, sir. I don’t know how relevant this is, but they did bring something odd aboard the shuttle, something that they were secretive about and that they handled with great care. It piqued my interest, so at the first opportunity, I stole a look at it. The object appeared to be a plastiplex cube containing…” She struggled visibly to find the right words. “It reminded me of an octopus standing on its head. I’m pretty sure it was alive. Some of the tentacles were moving. Then I felt a touch on the back of my neck and I blinked. And when I opened my eyes, the cube was gone and there was a space gate in front of the short-hopper.”
Nascent anger. “They smuggled an animal aboard my ship?” said Takamura, his voice ominously soft.
Resignation. “Not just an animal, Captain,” Pirrit explained. “What the commander saw was the power core of a psi-driven heavy cruiser.”
“And it’s a living creature?”
“Living but not sentient, and with a gluttonous appetite for energy, as I warned you earlier. This being was waking up from hibernation and it was hungry. If Commander Eberhart hadn’t been put into a deep sleep, her life force would have been noticed by the creature and quickly consumed.”
Ixbeth’s own dawning horror was an acrid taste at the back of her throat. “Was there one of these power cores in the ship we used a year ago to imprison the Thryggians?”
Regret. A hesitation. “Yes. That is why the brotherhood had to help you and Tal.”
It had been a struggle to control that vessel. Orrin Phail had sensed something evil living within it and had begged them to bury the “psi monster” in pieces once their task had been completed. Now Ixbeth understood why.
“So, not just an animal,” Takamura summed up. “A very dangerous alien creature. And where is it now, Mister Pirrit?”
“Nowhere aboard this ship, Captain, I promise you,” Gorse replied. “The brotherhood have taken it with them, and they are fully capable of controlling it, so there’s nothing for anyone to worry about.”
Sudden alarm. Yorell was staring at Pirrit with widened eyes. As well she should, Ixbeth reflected. There was a power core sleeping inside the heavy ship the thirteen “doubly chosen ones” had concealed on Kula’as and, with the departure of the brotherhood, quite possibly no one with the power to control it if it should wake up.
—— «» ——
“She’ll be all right, Gael. She’s just tired,” Deneuve assured him.
Tired? Lania was exhausted. Dedrick had rushed back to Med Services as soon as the debriefing was over. Now he stood just inside the door of the Prevention and Rehab ward, carefully watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his cousin’s chest as she lay on the bed, sound asleep. He was only partly comforted by Deneuve’s words. She hadn’t been there to witness Lania’s panic at being unable to break off the mental contact with Ixbeth when it came time to collapse the Kularian shields. She hadn’t seen Lania’s legs wobble and fold under her when the youngster tried to get up from the chair she’d been sitting in for more than five standard hours.
Just thinking about it made him angry all over again. Lania’s mental powers might be strong, but strength without training, without the stamina that built up through repeated practice, didn’t count for much. Ixbeth was trained. Lania was not.
A year earlier, the Marco Polo’s alienized shields had apparently drawn power from the ship as well as from her mind. This time Lania was the sole energy source, and Pirrit’s modifications had enhanced the technology, making it even hungrier than it had been before. He should have known better. They all should have known better. And they weren’t going to make this mistake again, not if Gael Dedrick had anything to say about it.
—— «» ——
There had definitely been a different flavor to the energy Lania was sending her. A mixture of Kularian and something else, just like the AI Lania had built for herself. Just like the hybrid shields that had helped the Marco Polo defeat the Thryggian pirates a year earlier. Ixbeth considered this as she left the debriefing meeting and called up a tube car to carry her to her quarters.
There had been no need for Kularian shielding this time, and it wasn’t because they’d been lucky. The brotherhood had wanted to ensure that they were the only ones aboard the heavy ship when it lifted off, because they knew — had always known, in fact — that they would not be bringing it back through the space gate. So, they’d devised a plan that would keep everyone else busy aboard the Earth vessel, claiming it was to minimize the number of lives being put at risk, and, for his own reasons, Captain Takamura had gone along with it.
The Reyota were evidently not the only ones who practiced deception, she thought darkly. Unbidden, the final words of the dying Thryggian in Med Services echoed in her mind: We are betrayed.
When the tube car door slid open on the guest quarters deck, Ixbeth stepped out into the corridor and paused, debating with herself. Then she turned and trotted in the direction of her parents’ stateroom. She still had questions. Now that the brotherhood was no longer a hovering presence aboard ship, she might finally get some answers.
Dallia had been sitting at her work table, organizing her next herb garden. She looked up from her packets of seeds and cuttings as Ixbeth entered.
“Hello, Mother.”
“I’m tasting curiosity and determination. And some skepticism. Thanks for the warning. Or are you just too tired to bother muting your emotions right now?”
“A little of both. You said you would answer all my questions in good time. Is this a good time?”
Dallia smiled and turned in her chair. “Ask.”
“If having pure-blooded Kularians on our home world is bound to create conflict, then why are the eleven of you returning to Kula’as? Is a civil war part of Avo’or’s grand plan?”
“No, it isn’t. But Kula’as is where we need to be in order to carry out our mission. Sit down and I’ll explain.” When Ixbeth had settled onto the other chair in the room, she continued, “Last year, the brotherhood told us they were very close to a breakthrough. A moontide later, they made it.”
“They’ve finished decoding the Dr’rava Kula’as?”
“Not all of it yet, but enough for them to realize what it really is, and what we used to be, and what they were becoming. For the safety of all Kularians, this knowledge — and the brotherhood — must remain hidden for now. At the same time, the Dr’rava Kula’as itself must be preserved as an important part of our heritage, and it needs to be made available for future generations of Kularians to study. It is forbidden by order of the Great Council for anyone to own a copy of the Dr’rava Kula’as. So, the brothers devised a way to return the book to our ancestral home world in a form the Council would never detect.
“They divided the text into ten parts. Do I need to say more, daughter?”
Ixbeth’s ears twitched as the significance of her mother’s words broke over her. Now she understood why Krodus, Tal, and the other scholars had isolated themselves in their quarters. They hadn’t been excluding her. They’d been focusing on engraving their respective sections of the Dr’rava Kula’as into their memories.
Satisfaction. Dallia resumed speaking. “These ten pure-blooded Kularians are the teachings of Avo’or, given life, and I am their defender, for the rest of my life. When we return to Kula’as, they will incorporate Avo’or’s wisdom into everything they do, spreading it across the planet right under the noses of the Reyota and the Great Council. And then, slowly but surely, Kula’as will rise again.”
“Is Gorse Pirrit aware of this?”
“Of course. He was a student of the book on his birth world. Noris sensed his talents and made contact with him shortly after we boarded this ship.” Dallia tilted her head. “You didn’t know?”
“He never told me.”
“He will. He’ll tell you that and much more, I’m certain. But not until you are ready to listen.”