by Neal Jones
"What happened?" Aliira asked, looking up with wide eyes and a pale face. She wasn't the Emissary now. She was a young girl who was badly terrified and looking to her mother for comfort.
"I don't know." Messani pulled back, noticing the blood on her daughter's face, and she began wiping it away with her sleeve. "Are you all right?? Are you hurt?" She started to remove Aliira's ceremonial robe. "Are you bleeding?"
"Mother, stop. I'm okay. It's not mine." She shrugged off her robe while Messani felt over her chest, pressing gently to search for any wounds. She told Aliira to turn around, and after she was satisfied that she was okay, Messani turned to Erimos. "Did you see what happened?"
The older man nodded gravely and removed his ceremonial robe. His hands were shaking as he draped it over a nearby chair. "Shil'Ra Generith has been shot." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned to Aliira. His face, too, was pale, his expression one of disbelief and shock. "I think that man was firing at you."
Messani gasped. "What?? She's just a child!"
Erimos lowered himself into the chair, staring at the floor as if in a daze. "She is not a child anymore. She is the fulfillment of a three thousand year old prophecy, as well as a sign of things to come." He looked at Aliira once more, this time with sadness. "I never believed that they were truly capable of something like this."
"Who??" Messani demanded, pulling Aliira close to her.
"Probably the Church of Onng Le'Roh. Ever since the revelation of the Emissary's rebirth, my people have been hearing rumors and whispers of something like this, and that's why I brought extra military support. I thought that that would be enough."
"You knew that this would happen?! You knew that she was in danger, and you didn't warn us??"
"We didn't know of any specific plans," the tal'shil'ra replied calmly. "If we had, of course we would have taken stronger measures to protect you."
The door opened just then, and Colonel Major Sorint entered. He glanced first at Erimos and then turned his attention to Messani and Aliira. "Are you all right?"
Messani nodded. "I think so. Is it true that someone tried to assassinate my daughter?"
"It appears so. I just received a preliminary report from my commander of the guards. He said that a man in the third row fired a weapon. It's not a conventional one, and we're analyzing it now. The assassin committed suicide before my soldiers could apprehend him, and the body is being transported to the Lorzach as we speak."
"And Shil'Ra Generith?"
Kaylem hesitated, and his expression told Messani all she needed to know. She covered her mouth and shook her head, as if this alone would make it not true.
"No!" she whispered.
"He was shot twice, once in the neck and then his face. It appears that he died instantly."
Erimos bowed his head, muttering a prayer, and Aliira guided her mother to a nearby chair.
"I'm very sorry," Kaylem said.
Messani closed her eyes and wept, leaning her head on her daughter's shoulder.
The tal'shil'ra stood and joined Kaylem near the door. "Is there any indication that the shooter had an accomplice?"
"I don't believe so. My men did their best to keep anyone from leaving the auditorium, but at least two dozen managed to get out. And there was at least two thousand in that square around the church. There's no way that we could detain them all. If he did have an accomplice, they're long gone by now."
Erimos nodded and looked back at Messani and Aliira. "Thank you, colonel."
After Kaylem left, Aliira looked up at Erimos. "What happens now? Can we go back to our quarters?"
"Not just yet. Not until we can know for certain that they're safe, and that the assassin had no allies among this ship's crew."
Messani wiped her eyes and sat up. "Is this what it will be like for us from now on? Will we always be in this much danger?"
"The church has always been the target of terrorists whose beliefs are different from ours."
"But they've never done anything like this. Not since the wars of a thousand years ago has anyone dared to attack the church like this." Messani stood and began pacing. The room had no viewport, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic.
"Messani." It was Aliira who spoke, but the tone of her voice was different. Even the sound of it was altered somewhat, and Messani knew that it was not her daughter who was speaking.
She paused and turned.
"I am the spirit of the Emissary reborn. I am speaking with your daughter's voice, but I am the one whose consciousness now lives within her." Aliira stood and clasped her mother's hands. The symbol in the center of her forehead was glowing faintly, the same white light that had surrounded her at the moment of Tor'Ahl's rebirth. "Our lives are but a gust of wind – here one moment, gone the next. We are not guaranteed a day, an hour, even a minute. Each breath is a gift from the Varashok, and our lives are theirs to take as they see fit. It is the End of Time and Days, and this will be the darkest time for our people. Abide in the Varashok, and your faith will be strong, just as Shil'Ra Generith's was."
"I know," Messani replied. "And my faith is in the Varashok, but that doesn't stop the fear. The future is more uncertain now than ever before."
Aliira smiled if she were the adult and her mother the child. "Fear and uncertainty are part of our mortal nature. We cannot overcome them on our own. If your faith is truly in the Varashok, then you must let go of the fear and uncertainty."
"It's not as easy as that."
"It is. What has happened just now is part of Their plan. We may not understand it now, but it is not our place to understand. We must simply abide in Them, and listen for Their voice. They will show us Their will in Their own time."
Messani nodded, smiling ruefully. "I know," she said again. She placed her hands on either side of her daughter's head and leaned down so that her forehead was touching Aliira's. Messani closed her eyes, drawing strength from her daughter's embrace.
Tal'Shil'Ra Erimos joined them, placing his hands around their shoulders, and he began to pray.
Chapter 29
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( 1 )
MAJOR SAVECK RECLINED THE BACK OF HIS seat and switched on the portable com screen attached to the arm of his chair. He was on his way back to Exxar-One after staying an additional two weeks on homeworld. Farak had grumbled that he didn't need his son's help, that he had Matok to assist him in finalizing the sale if the vineyards, but Kralin had ignored him. By the end of his stay there was still a distance between him and his father, but the foundations for a bridge had been built, and only time would tell if anything more would be added.
Kralin brought up the local news feed, but scowled when he read the headlines about the Emissary's attempted assassination. It seemed that this was all anyone could talk about these days, and the major was sick of it. The current feed showed highlights from Generith's funeral two days earlier. Tal'Shil'Ra Erimos had declared that Generith's body would be placed in the holy crypts beneath the cathedral in Lar'A'Tol, and the throng which had turned out for the service numbered in the thousands. The small town of Osth was well on its way to becoming a religious shrine as Chrisarii flocked to it daily from all corners of the Alliance to see firsthand the site where the Emissary had been reborn.
There was more news regarding the upcoming peace talks between the Alliance and the Federation. Ambassador Morryn was quoted as saying that he was optimistic about the new round of dialogue that would begin after the first of the year, and that he was looking forward to building a relationship with the Federation ambassador. Parliament had yet to select its new representative, and there was some speculation among the senators that Ambassador Zar would be asked to resume her former post.
Kralin shut off the com screen and laid back, closing his eyes. He felt utterly drained – and not just physically. The emotional toll of saying goodbye to his mother and healing the past with his father had exhausted him more than he was willing to admit. But for the first time in
his life, he felt something besides the rage and bitterness that had poisoned his soul for so many years.
After his mother's funeral, Kralin had spent two days working in her garden, weeding and pruning, watering and fertilizing, and at some point during the mundane labor he'd discovered a sense of calm that came with restoring order and beauty to the old garden. It was as if he was discovering a new part of himself, a part that had been lost a long time ago, a part that he'd forgotten all about. He'd even gone so far as to clear the fields beyond the house, piling the thick grass into tall stacks and then burning them. As he stood near the heat of the fire, inhaling the thick, acrid smoke, that sense of calm became something else: a sense of resolution.
And that was what Kralin finally realized he'd been needing for so long, ever since he'd run away from home to live with Jran on Beta Erendii two decades ago. He'd been running his whole life, and it had taken the death of Jharis to bring him back around full circle; to bring him back home. The passing of one's parents always had a way of forcing one back around to one's roots. Saying goodbye to his mother, confronting his father, and then uncovering the truth about why Jran had married Tarish had scraped away the deep scars of old wounds and bled them. There were moments in the last few days where the fresh pain of that bleeding had almost broken Kralin, but now that homeworld was behind him once again he felt whole; renewed.
Reborn.
Comparing his experience to that of Aliira N'Lyn made Kralin grimace, but the analogy was an appropriate one. And, oddly enough, returning to Exxar-One felt equally right and true. He'd already come to the conclusion almost six months ago that that starbase was where he belonged, but now he felt a renewed sense of purpose regarding his role there. Ambassador Vorik had been right: it was time to lay aside the old bitterness and the hatreds of the past in order to save the future. In between his cultivating of the garden and clearing the fields behind the house, Kralin had started to pay more attention to the news feeds. He didn't give a krite for anything concerning the Emissary, but the upcoming peace talks with the Federation, the terrorist bombings on the Kauramide homeworld, and the general political unrest among the various worlds of the Alliance now held a peculiar fascination for Kralin. It was as if he had not only been reborn, but was reawakening as well. For so long he had been a soldier, had only followed orders, and he not cared one krite for anything outside of his military career. He merely did what he was told, and completed his assignments to the best of his ability.
But now everything was different. His superiors on the War Council thought they were punishing him by assigning him to Exxar-One, but Kralin had begun to realize that his posting there was an opportunity. Just exactly what kind of opportunity he wasn't yet sure. But it was clear that the fallout of the declaration of truce that had ended the Beta Erendii War almost eleven years ago had created far more political unrest within the Alliance than Kralin had ever realized. It wasn't that he'd completely ignored the news for the last several years, it was just that he was now seeing it all in a new light.
The Chrisarii Alliance was at a crossroads, and while some were in favor of the new round of treaty negotiations with the Federation, others were bent on destroying the fragile peace that had existed between the two empires for over a decade now. The Haal'Chai was an example of the latter group, and Kralin had had firsthand experience dealing with them six months ago during their attacks on Exxar-One. But in the last month that he had spent on homeworld, he realized that the unrest that was manifested in the Haal'Chai ran much deeper among the general Chrisarii population than anyone outside the empire knew.
For the last several nights Kralin had gone with Matok to the Ardmos to commiserate and reminisce, and Matok's son had even joined them one night. According to Draek, who was the deputy chief of law enforcement in the capital district of the Kalar province, the civil unrest there over the peace talks with the Federation was almost to its boiling point. Dozens of protest groups had arranged demonstrations on the steps of the government complex, and their claim was one that Kralin had been hearing over and over in his viewing of the local and galactic news feeds: the Chrisarii Empire had lost its former glory. In its efforts to form a treaty of peace with the Federation it had become weak, and - by extension or by direct blame - High Chancellor Kroth was considered weak as well. Many protestors throughout the empire felt that he should resign from office, an event that had only happened twice in the Alliance's history.
All of this, along with the death of his mother, had brought Kralin to a crossroads as well. A standard year ago, when he had first received his transfer orders to Exxar-One, he had felt the same as his fellow soldiers. The empire had grown weak in the decade since the end of the Beta Erendii conflict, both politically and economically. Instead of making peace with its enemies it should be conquering them. Right now, however, the empire was bankrupt in both coin and military might. The last war had cost them greatly, hence the stalemate which had ended the conflict.
But Kralin wondered how long that bankruptcy would last. The High Council had raised taxes four times in the last decade, claiming that it was for the debt incurred during the last war. The industrial colonies had seen an upsurge in both the demand for raw materials as well as sites for new factories. Kaylem had also mentioned to Kralin a few days earlier that the number of new recruits for the War Academy was steadily rising, especially in the last two years. The High Council had remained tight-lipped to the press about any of that, however, neither confirming nor denying the rumors that it was trying to re-build the fleet and arm for war. And since there was a new round of peace talks scheduled, it seemed that those rumors were just that.
What surprised Kralin now was how exhausted he felt at the thought of another decade – or longer – of war. He had been living so long with the ghosts of Jran, Tarish, Mikel, and Larha, haunted by the senselessness of their deaths and the blood thirst for revenge, that he had allowed that to define him for all of his adult life. Now, in the aftermath of his mother's death and the reconciliation with his father, Kralin felt...empty; tired. Revenge and bitterness and were no longer enough to sustain him, and the memory of Bre'el drifted to the surface of his thoughts. He recalled the scent of her as they lay naked, intertwined, basking the afterglow of sex. Perhaps it was the unexpected romance that had awakened that part of him that he had long ago forgotten. Perhaps it was just coming back home and revisiting the past that had resurrected his former self.
Whatever the case, Kralin was relieved to be heading back to Exxar-One and the daily chaos of his job. It would good to throw himself back into his work, and he smiled at the thought of being able to work out with his sword in the Hiver again. He reached down an opened his travel case, rummaging inside for his compad. When his fingers brushed something that felt like bound leather he paused, frowning. He closed his hand around the object and pulled it out.
Kralin stared at the worn cover with a mixture of astonishment, resentment, and regret. It was a copy of The Holy Covenant that his parents had given him for his fifth nameday. Farak must have slipped it into his travel case the night before, and Kralin scowled as he brushed his hand over the embossed lettering of the title. The pages were as worn as the cover, and some of the corners were missing. Jharis had sat with her sons many nights at the kitchen table after dinner, helping them with their scripture lessons. Then she would read them a parable from the Book of T'Lat before bed. Kralin leaned forward, closing his eyes, and inhaling the scent of the frayed leaves – her scent. She had always smelled of soap and earth and wildflowers. Her hands were always cracked and dusty – sometimes with soil from the garden, sometimes with flour from baking.
An ache so deep that it seared his chest with a sharp and sudden pain filled Saveck, and he hated his father for dredging up the book from whatever corner of the house he had stored it in for all these years. But the scent of his mother that had become as much a part of the book as its gilded pages and leather binding made him more grateful than he would ever admi
t – even to himself. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his eyes, also thankful that he was alone in this compartment of the shuttle.
He opened the Covenant to the Book of T'Lat and began reading the parable of the three bothers of Surr. That was one of Jran's favorites.
( 2 )
Commodore Gabriel opened the package with care, surprised to see that his mother had kept the sword in its original case. He unsnapped the lid and lifted the épée from its velvety cushion. Behind him, the door chime warbled.
"Come in," he called without turning around.
The blade needed some polishing, and the hilt's leather grip was cracked and peeling, but the fencing weapon was still in good condition considering how long it had been in storage. When Marc had first asked his mother two weeks ago whether or not she remembered the sword, she had smiled knowingly and replied that yes, she knew exactly where it was, and that she would be happy to send it to him. It was the first time in two months that he had had a conversation with her that lasted more than five minutes, and her tone of voice told him that she was both pleased and relieved that he was picking up the sport once again.
"I still have your tournament trophies. Would you like them as well?"
"No, the sword and mask will do fine, thank you," Marc had replied dryly.
"Whoa!" Jeanette yelled, ducking to avoid her father's practice swing.
He stumbled back, startled, and almost dropped the sword. "Sorry, sweetheart, didn't see you there."
"You fence?"
"I did when I was in high school, freshman and sophomore. Took home the first place trophy both years too."
"What made you quit?"
"I gave into peer pressure and joined the football team. What's that?" He was looking at the package she had tucked under one arm.
"A housewarming gift." Jeanette set it on the table next the sword case. "I thought this place could use a little more life."
