Echoes of Esharam

by Robert Davies

  “They found and captured me on that desert world after a Plexus anomaly I couldn’t understand. When I woke inside a cell at Voralem, I had no idea where I was or what had happened to me; everything was a confusing nightmare of aliens in a faraway place I didn’t even know existed. The interrogators slapped me around for a while, but then I found myself in a canyon they made into a prison, locked in a room with Onallin. She wasn’t very friendly, either and I have scars from a time or two when I took her past the limits of her temper. But now, as I look back on everything that happened in the days since, there’s no chance I would’ve made it out of there alive without her.”

  Norris smiled a little, but Arros looked at him with mild confusion.

  “Your characterization of that time doesn’t seem a likely source of amusement.”

  Norris shook his head and said, “It’s a little ironic, that’s all. During our escape, Onallin could just as easily have killed me where I stood, but in the end, she protected me, Major.”

  Arros smiled.

  “I think you will make a good match for her after all.”

  They walked on together in silence, strolling with nothing more to add until Rantara intercepted them near the low wall.

  “The other shuttles are on their way down from orbit to take the commandos, Darrien; they want us inside.”

  “Go with Onallin, Lieutenant,” Arros said. “I would like to stay here for a while and enjoy the last of this sunshine while I can. Perhaps we will speak again when you return?”

  “Yes, Major, I look forward to it.”

  As they turned for the pavilion, she eyed him closely.

  “Well?”

  “We had a nice chat,” Norris said, evading as best he could.

  “So I see,” she replied, “but probably not as nice when my sister had you cornered, was it?”

  Norris smiled.

  “No, but the Major pulled me out of that fire just in time.”

  She took his arm in hers.

  “He likes you.”

  “Maybe he was just being polite.”

  “If he didn’t, there would be no doubt in your mind, believe me; Arros doesn’t hide his feelings well.”

  “I hope so, but I don’t think your sister has much use for me.”

  “We’ll see,” Rantara said. “She makes a good show when no one else is looking, but when you stand up to her, she’s not as brave.”

  “I get the impression you and Ellimox have never been close,” said Norris.

  “We’re not,” she replied.

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I’m an embarrassment to her. She resents explaining to those in social circles her little sister’s abnormalities and horrible choices.”

  “I hope she’s not talking about me!”

  “Ellimox is convinced Jodrall’s Condition is a poor and transparent excuse for aberrant behavior; she is certain that I am violent and evil by preference. Until a few days ago, she still believed Creel’s death was only my desire to murder—a psychotic child’s whim, acted out so that I could experience killing another.”

  “She didn’t believe you back then?”

  “No one believed me.”

  “But now?”

  “The Magistrate’s view is the only one that concerns me; Ellimox can think as she likes.”

  Norris stopped.

  “She’s going to figure it out when the Magistrate sees those memories and publicly clears you, Onallin; she’s going to understand you were telling the truth all along.”

  “I don’t think truth matters to her, at least where I’m concerned.”

  “How could it not?”

  “Arros believes her hostility toward me is made worse by my notoriety, however negative that may be. He’s convinced Ellimox has always resented the spotlight shining on anyone but herself, and I think he may be right. After you’ve spent some time with her, you’ll see.”

  “If I live that long.”

  “Oh, you will, believe me—I’ll make sure of it. Speaking of which, when this is finished I want to take you to home so my mother and father can meet you, and Aniesse, too. It’s expected anyway, but I need my family to see and understand who you are; that you don’t have wings and claws, or twelve eyes.”

  “It didn’t sound like your parents are thrilled with any of this.”

  “It’s not our relationship that disturbs them so much as my association with Qural and the Anash. Nothing could’ve compelled them to come here, but when they have you in the safety of their home, away from all the attention and turmoil, it will be easier for them to get to know you. Once they do, their view of all this will change.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to see me—the weird little alien runt from outer space who’s sleeping with their daughter. Maybe we should give it some time before…”

  Rantara stopped and held him by his chin.

  “Darrien, I love you with all my heart, but we are going to Belex and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  “Farewell, self-determination,” he said with a sad smile.

  AS THEY STROLLED slowly across the grass toward the house, the night side of Fells Moll still slept beneath a cloudless sky strewn with stars. Visitors at the Academy’s optical observatory high in the Golaran Mountains had been gone for hours, leaving the overnight staff to their solitary work. A mapping project conducted as an exercise for astronomy students had left the Number 3 instrument aimed at a colorful smudge of light they knew as a stellar nursery named in honor of an early Anash observer. Obscured by the glare of a hundred stars, an unseen drama was about to unfold.

  Broken down again, an alien vessel drifted alone in the frozen darkness. Outside, the stars held steady in their viewports, but no one noticed; two vent tubes had become clogged with frozen ejecta again. The old problem had returned, forcing them out from their Plexus thread to idle in steady space until the tubes could be cleared.

  Their captain fought back against his frustrations; they made adjustments before departure, yet the vents continued their chronic and maddening habit of interrupting a journey already days behind schedule. The cargo was safe, but each understood all too well what the repair interruptions would cost them when they reached the docks; it was no secret the trade masters were not forgiving of lengthy delays.

  At her station, the navigator finished last-minute calculations as the captain arrived from the lower spaces.

  “How long do we have?”

  “Fifty—no more. If this takes any longer, we’ll never be able to make up the time on the other end.”

  The captain looked away.

  “And all those containers will be worth half what they are now when we bring them in late. They have to authorize a re-fit when we get home or it will happen again and again until it strands us out here forever!”

  The navigator nodded her agreement, but as she returned to her console, the drive status display suddenly drew her attention. It was fleeting, at first, but after a moment she watched Plexus entry point indicators going active, one after another. Before she could speak, the gate-targeting array exploded with dozens and dozens of aperture signals. Seconds later, there were thousands. It didn’t take long for the input overload to close the display and she turned at once to the captain.

  “Something’s wrong; I’ve never seen it do this before.”

  He moved closer.

  “Reinitialize the array.”

  “I tried, but it won’t accept the commands and…”

  Before she could finish her words, the ship’s proximity claxon blared out its warning. Inexplicably, collision hazards—and countless contacts—suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The navigator fought back the panic she could see mirrored in the captain’s face as he rushed to the forward viewport. He spoke slowly and with an ominous, hushed tone.

  “What…is…this?”

  The others joined him and watched in dumbfounded silence as a million Plexus exit gates glittered cool blue and white bef
ore them and in seconds, the flashes were so many, the darkness was washed away in the glare. At last, they saw it; a shimmering, vast blob—an impossible count of individual objects, each following an identical, parallel course. Again and again, without end, they appeared out of the dark in swarms, gathering into massive groups, indifferent to the stricken ship as it drifted nearby. The captain watched in helpless wonder and awe as the ever-swelling cloud, backlit by yet more exit flashes, moved swiftly and silently through the darkness, staggering in its dimensions.

  “Drop a beacon pod,” he ordered. “Do it now.”

  THE SUN WAS low on the western horizon when the last shuttles made their final approach from Premara. Norris and the others gathered in the upper foyer, waiting for Rantara. At last, she arrived in the crisp, black jumpsuit of a Khorran infantry officer. To Norris’ delight, the fit was suitably snug on a female figure and she caught him staring despite his best effort to hide a noticeable leer.

  “I don’t know if I should salute or ask you out on a date,” he muttered softly as the others filed slowly in.

  “Maybe both,” she replied with a dry smile; “I could outrank you one of these days.”

  But as they walked slowly from the house, a different, sobering moment concluded in the chamber below when Magistrate Raniru Ven stepped slowly from the Transceptor’s pedestal in silence. She paused to steady herself with the images of Creel’s dismembered body and a ghastly pool of blood spreading out across the floor still swirling in her thoughts. Nearly obliterated by Rantara’s teenage hand, Creel’s face was an unrecognizable mess of tissue, blood and skull fragments, but one eye seemed to stare coldly into a distance Ven couldn’t see—lifeless, blank and frozen at the precise moment he died in unspeakable agony.

  She thanked Haleth and walked quickly up the ramp to join the others, struggling against the shock and sadness. The machine conveyed as only it can the desperation, fear and anger that drove a young girl to unimaginable acts of brutality. Norris saw her first and nudged Rantara.

  “It looks like Haleth is finished with your Magistrate.”

  Rantara turned to greet Ven, surprised by her sudden embrace. In the gentle, afternoon breeze she felt the old woman tremble.

  “I have no words to describe my sorrow for what you’ve endured, Lieutenant,” she said in a low, soft tone. “I will instruct the appropriate offices to publish these findings and clear your name the moment we return, and the Regional Constabulary Chief on Leresh will be among them. I expect he will have a long, uncomfortable conversation with the Oardin Kelai Sisterhood as well; their part in this cannot be allowed to hide any longer.”

  Rantara only nodded, struggling against the tears of relief that pushed their way from her eyes. Norris stood close, holding her hand tightly in his as the Magistrate continued.

  “Also, I have ordered an agency review of Tremmek’s activities, as well as an overall assessment of the detention center at Bera Nima, what remains of it. For too long, our leadership has looked away because it was convenient to leave such things to others, but that will soon change; it is past time to evaluate the Colonel’s benefit to the Khorran people.”

  Rantara returned the smile of one delivered from a nightmare.

  “Thank you, Magistrate.”

  Rentha’s assistant moved through the group, handing out small gifts as tokens of remembrance in the Anashi tradition, but Norris leaned close to Rantara and whispered, “What did the Magistrate mean when she said ‘Leresh’ just now?”

  “It’s the planet where I was born,” she replied. “My parents moved to Leresh for job duties, but they were never comfortable on a colony world. After I was sent to the Oarden Kelai Sisters, they went home.”

  Norris nodded at the similarity between their families and the often complicated sense of belonging that plagued many who left their home worlds in the mistaken belief everything would be better on a distant planet. Again, he felt closer to her, even as she stood in silence while the final chapter in a horrible story was closed.

  Outside, the hiss of lift engines announced the shuttle had arrived. Qural motioned to the others to join her as she went quickly to greet Orendala where he stepped onto the grass.

  “Esten, I am delighted to see you again!”

  “Ambassador,” he replied. “I bring greetings from Taraxis; we met before our departure three days ago and he wanted me to convey his best wishes for the mission your people are about to mount.”

  “How is he?”

  “Well enough. It has been difficult for him, keeping the Admiralty from nosing too close to this affair of yours, but no one is better suited to the task than the Commodore.”

  Qural smiled.

  “Barso has been one of my most trusted and valuable allies for many years; it brings great relief to me, knowing this mess has not cost him too dearly.”

  “We have the last of the mission specialists you requested for the final phase, but I believe you already know this one.”

  He turned as Hesset climbed carefully down from the shuttle’s hatchway, smiling broadly. The others saw it at once and rushed to greet her.

  “Well, well well—look who the cat dragged in!” said Norris, uncaring if no one else knew what it meant. They all embraced her, but she paused longer with Banen, Theriani and Norris. Even Rantara took her turn and Hesset regarded her for a moment. Once more, the present had washed away the unpleasant past and each felt the power of a connection made whole again.

  “Qural lured you out to see us off?” Norris asked.

  Hesset looked away for a moment.

  “Not precisely,” she replied with a smile until Tindas stepped forward.

  “Meet your team’s language and communications specialist, Darrien; Hesset will accompany you on the journey to Esharam and again to Primus Station.”

  “Are you sure about this?” asked Norris and the worry showed clearly in his face. “It could get pretty rough when we get there, Hesset.”

  She smiled and moved close.

  “Could it be any worse than Bera Nima? We survived that ordeal well enough.”

  “No one was shooting at us!”

  Tindas interrupted to calm Norris’ concerns.

  “She insisted, and we agree with her; communication is a vital aspect of the mission and who better to handle it than Hesset?”

  Norris was unconvinced.

  “This is dangerous as hell, Professor.”

  Suddenly, Rantara took Hesset’s arm in hers.

  “Don’t worry, Darrien, the Envoy is not as harmless as she looks. A few who threatened her on arrival day at Bera Nima found that truth when it was too late to help. Didn’t the Doctor tell you?”

  Norris looked at Banen with wide eyes.

  “And anyway,” Rantara continued, “the Kez’Erel and Namadi will have other things to worry about, won’t they? Remember, I read the reports from our scout team that found you on Karroba, and Theriani is…well, Theriani.”

  Hesset smiled at Norris.

  “Satisfied?”

  He gave a helpless shrug as the others shuffled slowly inside. Hesset stayed with Norris and Rantara for a while, just to enjoy the moment and he looked at her with a sad smile.

  “There’s no chance I can talk you out of this, is there?”

  “None at all,” she replied with a grin. “When we were together on Kalarive, my family had no way of knowing where I was or what had become of me. Now, they know I am in good company and safe with very capable people. Could you stand by while your dearest friends went on such a journey to face the dangers alone?”

  “No,” Norris mumbled, “I couldn’t.”

  Rantara turned him slowly to face her.

  “We all have our part to play, Darrien, just like it was when we came out from Bera Nima. Hesset is coming with us and I’m delighted; sulking about it won’t help.”

  Norris nodded, outnumbered and overmatched. Hesset smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “You worry too much!”

  IN THE MORNIN
G, they assembled beneath a lovely, purple sky where the grass met Qural’s sprawling patio. The shuttles were on their way up from Aremor City after delivering the Magistrate and General Tograz to a waiting Khorran diplomatic vessel. Arros and Ellimox would make the return trip aboard Premara and a transfer to a Khorran support ship at the frontier.

  The reunited team of unlikely warriors who once struggled to survive in the bowels of Bera Nima waited to board an Anashi command ship bound for a rendezvous area near a nebula at the edge of Revallan space. Norris dubbed it ‘The Great Nowhere,’ and soon, they would transfer to a Khorran assault ship for the run to Esharam.

  A low fog clung motionless across Qural’s estate in the cool, still air. Inside the borders of the orchard, birds were stirring and their noisy chatter called out from the mist. Rantara stood close behind Norris, holding him tightly with her chin on his shoulder.

  “Here we go again,” he said.

  Rantara pressed her cheek against his and said, “We should be the ones to do this, Darrien; it has to be us.”

  He nodded in silence, but Norris understood; even for Rantara, the task had become personal and she would not allow it to be left to others. Rentha appeared with her assistant carrying cups of savory broth to ward off the chill when the buzzing hiss of shuttles turning inbound from the sea signaled the moment had arrived. The others gathered quickly as each of four machines slowed in the swirling fog, settling gently onto sodden grass where the banquet pavilion stood only a day before. They made their farewells quickly and with few words, if only to deny the dread that creeped in to remind them all of the dangers they faced, and to insist the separation was only temporary. In minutes, the sleek machines were climbing toward the west, accelerating through the clouds on a wide course that would take them into orbit and a frigate loitering at seventy kilometers above the northern pole of Fells Moll. Norris glanced for a moment at the gentle arc of the planet’s horizon through his view port as they passed over the slumbering capitol. When the darkness overtook them, he leaned close to Rantara and closed his eyes.