by Reiter
Nugar took his time docking his fighter with the gunship, and from the look on his face, Turo was in no great hurry to disembark from the Vinthur fighter-craft. Dungias waited patiently as the Sub-Officer assisted Nugar out of his seat and down to the bay floor. He noticed that Nugar had a pistol in a holster strapped to his leg, and Dungias wondered if that was the way the old one typically traveled. The large Malgovi and the aged Vinthur exchanged pleasantries before Turo bowed and took his leave. Nugar chuckled for a moment and then turned his attention to Dungias who looked like he should be somewhere resting.
“You don’t look well, young one,” Nugar stated.
“I will be fine.”
“Yes, but when?” the old Traveler asked. “Oh, yes! That’s right. You’re the direct sort. I almost forgot. It is simpler, this direct approach, from your perspective.”
“It isn’t perspective. It’s true logic.”
“Hmmm,” Nugar nodded as he thought. He could feel the slight shimmer in the plating at his feet. With a slow blink of his eyes, he could gauge the velocity of the ship they were on and estimate how long it would be before they would reach the border of the Deku and K’Dalkian Systems where Gavis Station could be found. “And we should do our level best to embrace true logic, correct?”
“In every stride,” Dungias replied.
“Very well,” Nugar said, tapping his finger against his lips as he pondered his next best move. “So tell me one thing, are you immortal?”
“No, Master,” Dungias answered, confused by the question. His confusion turned to fright and then pain as Nugar quickly drew his pistol and fired into Dungias’ right leg. He screamed as he collapsed to the floor, writhing in fresh pain.
“If you are not immortal,” Nugar said, taking aim. “… then true logic dictates you are born to die. Let’s not dally!” He fired again and an energy sliver cut through Dungias’ left arm. “Will you quit floundering about?! You’re ruining my shot!”
“Master, no!” Dungias cried.
“No what?”
“That is not true logic!”
“Oh, but it is,” Nugar said, squatting down. “You are born and you die. True logic is always the simplest expression of things, is it not?” Dungias clutched at his wounds, panting and beginning to sweat. “And no matter what life we look at, they all begin and end the same. On that you’d have to agree.
“You do agree, yes?” Nugar asked, pointing his gun at Dungias’ face.
“Please don’t kill me!” Dungias shouted as tears welled up in his eyes. The Traveler seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. There was no hesitation in his actions; Dungias could not find the look of reconsideration in his eyes.
“Well why not?! I am, after all, only exercising true logic. Should we not demonstrate it in every stride? Is this not but one of the strides that you mentioned?” Nugar asked, increasing the power setting of his weapon. “Didn’t you say–”
“I don’t know everything!” Dungias roared at Nugar before falling back to his nervous panting. One tear escaped his eye and ran down the side of his face. “I don’t know!”
“No, you don’t,” Nugar said, leveling his weapon before firing again.
“NO!” Dungias screamed as he sat up in the infirmary bed. He winced from the pain in his shoulder and moaned as he reached for the wound with his left hand. The injury on his left arm told him what had not been a dream; the Traveler had indeed shot him… twice, though Dungias had thought he fired three times. Radiation plates had been fixed to all three wounds, and he would be restored in a matter of s’tonki as most of their work had already been done. The footfalls he heard approaching brought him from the review of his medical status. Dungias could hear three different voices.
“Prymba, we must remember that Master Nugar is our guest,” Narwyss said as he entered the infirmary.
“And that means he can go about the business of shooting our other guests whenever he likes?!” the female Malgovi snapped her reply, ignoring the Traveler walking into the room behind her. Nugar, however, was not slighted in the least. He looked into the room and then to floor with a slight smile on his face. “Must we discuss the definition of the word hospitality?!
“And don’t you dare even try to make this a matter of pulling rank!” Prymba continued as they made their way to her only patient. “You are in charge of this ship, this crew, and the Battle Group. But this is my infirmary and in here I am in command!”
“No one is arguing that, Doctor,” Narwyss replied in a very calming voice, standing over what he considered to be a very impressive young man.
“How resourceful,” Nugar muttered.
“What was that, Master?” Narwyss asked before being kicked in the face by Dungias. His head snapped back from the power of the blow and he fell back into the wall before sliding to the floor.
“Restraints, acti-owww!” Prymba cried out, clutching at her right shoulder after it was scored by the energy scalpel. She stumbled back from the bed, holding up her hand, her green eyes silently pleading for mercy.
Dungias came off the bed, landing a hammering blow on Narwyss’ face. He looked at the physician and took note of her name: Welgrenn Zalla Prymba. Her status name told him she was only proficient with two iro-forms. She was a commoner who had taken advantage of an education. She was in too much pain and fright to mount an offensive, and there was the matter of the third opponent in the room.
“That leaves just me,” Nugar said without lifting his eyes.
“Your stance of humility holds no sway with me,” Dungias spat. “You shot me!”
“Thrice,” Nugar added. “Your rage is understood.” Nugar looked down at his leg and shook his head. “And as you can see, I am without the gun.”
“Step aside and there will be no issue between us.”
“You also like the extremes, don’t you?” Nugar asked, lifting his gaze to look into Dungias’ eyes. “You’ve gone from a blind following of supposed true logic to employing none at all. Strange.” Dungias swallowed hard as Nugar’s head tilted to the left.
“Feint,” Nugar whispered as Dungias lunged forward and initiated an attack that stopped short. The objective had been to make Nugar commit to a movement and then get around him in the opposite direction.
“Left hand slash for the face,” Nugar muttered as he bent backward, the hum of the scalpel reached his ears as the blade just missed his cheek. “Left hand thrust,” Nugar said, standing up straight and extending his right hand. “Left wrist caught,” the old one said as his grip locked around Dungias’ arm. “Pull, stammer and stall,” Nugar said as Dungias tried to free his wrist but failed to escape the iron grip. He stuttered, starting to ask, ‘what did you say’ but as he heard Nugar, he stopped and looked at the Traveler. “And there it is: the rage!”
“Be silent!” Dungias cried as he swung his right fist for Nugar’s face. It was met with Nugar’s fist and Dungias dropped the scalpel as his knees buckled.
“And that was a nerve strike,” Nugar reported as he finally released the wrist. He stepped over the paralyzed form and looked at the Chief Medical Officer. “I trust you can mend that wound, Doctor?” Prymba nodded without speaking and Nugar continued over to Narwyss who was still stunned, but conscious. “He’s stronger than he looks, isn’t he?”
“I’ve received softer blows, Master,” Narwyss answered and Nugar helped him up into the bed.
“Then rest and give your doctor time to heal her wound, and then she will see to you.”
“Show him mercy, Master,” Narwyss pleaded, looking over at Prymba. “He did not strike to kill.”
“Not you, no,” Nugar agreed. “But then again, you did not shoot him. Please know that I am not angered, Commander. From what I have been told, his level of restraint is something of a surprise.”
“And you knew he was armed,” Narwyss concluded.
“There was a tell-tale gap in the tools tray and the light scent of recently caused ozone,” Nugar explained. “Now if you wil
l excuse me, I need to confer with young Dungias.”
Rolling Dungias’ body onto a gurney, Nugar pushed him out of the infirmary and down the main corridor. “Aaahh, isn’t that better?” he asked as he walked. “I don’t know about you, but I hate hospitals!” Nugar kept from laughing as Dungias gazed up at him. “We have much to discuss, you and I, and it can be an insurmountable task trying to share with someone who knows far less material than they are ready to admit.” Nugar put his index and middle finger to Dungias’ chest, giving a sharp push. Sensation and the ability to move quickly returned to Dungias’ body. He flexed his hands before looking up at Nugar.
“Am I permitted to move?” he asked.
“Sharp learning curve, this one,” Nugar said as he continued down the corridor, walking around the gurney. When he was beyond Dungias, the young Malgovi sat up and got off the floating platform. After a very quick examination, he depressed the command button.
“Infirmary,” Dungias said softly and the gurney started back down this corridor. He watched it for a moment and ran to catch up with Nugar. “Master?”
“My name is Nugar,” the Traveler corrected. “My nur had a kept Grenbi he called Master. If you and I are to take the course before us, you will not call me Master.”
“But–” Dungias started, but quickly reminded himself of their ‘true logic’ discussion.
“What is it?”
“It just doesn’t feel right to me, calling you by your name,” Dungias said. “Am I speaking out of place?”
“Seldom can one be speaking out of place when they are sharing their feelings, young one. I trust you are not so rigid with the truths you were declaring earlier?”
“No…”
“Let’s work with ‘Teacher’,” Nugar suggested.
“I would like that,” Dungias replied.
“Your pain,” Nugar said before stopping.
“I don’t understand, Teacher.”
“You were wondering how we could have found you in a room that was tightly sealed,” Nugar said. “I felt your pain. I credit you with a stout heart for it had to have been so to withstand such punishment. Such things as emotions are hidden from the common Malgovi eye, but they made for a very clear marker to me.
“But tell me about you ishah. No, that is not the word. Your Vi-Zai!”
“What of her?” Dungias inquired.
“You’re a shay-spawn living amongst iro-formers. You couldn’t have had too many friends. Before you came of age, you played with your Vi-Zai, didn’t you?”
“We used to play quite a bit… but always in my room.”
“Where she no doubt employed sonics to scramble the sound of your roughhousing. An interesting way to instruct grappling and tumbling,” Nugar judged. “But it seems quite effective.” Dungias pondered over the words of the Traveler as he recalled how he and Laylaria used to play. How she had taught him anticipation and how to read the movements of an opponent… all while laughing and keeping a silly score.
“How could I have forgotten that?” Dungias wondered. “And how is it now that I can recall it?”
“I was advised that if things do not go well between us that the mines are still a valid option,” Nugar stated.
“Our beginning is not the… most seamless I have ever encountered,” Dungias remarked.
“From what I’ve seen for you, that perspective will change,” Nugar muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” the aged one quickly replied. “I’m just an old man talking to himself. Pay it no mind. A beginning is a beginning, and the sooner you can see the truth in that statement, the further along you will be.”
Dungias continued to walk with the Vinthur, though he did not feel that the muttered response amounted to ‘nothing’. He also did not feel he would be successful in unearthing the truth at this moment. The image of Laylaria’s face was so very clear to him, and with images of his youth and their many exchanges. Something did not feel quite right about them, but his mind did not linger on the memory for too long.
He thought instead of the unwritten law he had been accused of breaking. Dungias, after all, had dared to touch one gifted with iro-forms, a Mentor no less! It was common knowledge that there were few trials for such encounters, merely reports of shay-spawn being disciplined. Death was not called such, and to kill a shay-spawn was not murder, it was the ultimate disciplining. There would be no need for any further lessons. Dungias had always walked a fine line, and he knew quite well what the name Z’Gunok had afforded him. When he was overlooked or forgotten, it was a harmonious existence. But the Stars did not allow him to remain in the shadows for too long; his mind or his body would eventually have him stand out for some reason. The ridicule would come, and most of the time he wore it well. Still, there had been times when his tolerance was exceeded, where he would lash out… attack.
“Perhaps Danatra was right,” he thought. “Perhaps I am nothing more than an animal.”
“Who here is not?” Nugar asked. Dungias looked at the Vinthur for a moment. He decided to not respond to the question but pose one instead.
“Teacher, will you tell me? While I grapple with what you have already told me, tell me why you have taken this upon yourself.”
“I have not taken anything, young one,” Nugar said as he stopped walking. He turned to face Dungias. His copper eyes were shining with a soft gold light. “The Stars called for it, and I have steered the course given to me.”
“The Stars?!” Dungias asked. Nugar nodded to the affirmative. “What do they want with me?”
“I am sure I do not know,” Nugar answered. “And as they have not told me their intentions, I will presume that their message is meant for you and you alone. This makes my task a simple one.”
“It does?”
“Oh most assuredly,” Nugar insisted. “You see, I need only get you to the point where you may confer with the Stars yourself. Then I am sure they will tell you what must be done.”
“Do the Malgovi still confer with the Stars?!” Dungias asked, shocked at the response given to him. He was shaken by how simple the old one made it sound.
“Sadly, only a few,” Nugar replied. “Those who work with sentient energies, and of course the Queen. Far, far less than the times before my life-trek. Far, far less indeed.
“And it begins,” Nugar thought, feeling the presence of a Malgovi male who was probably inept enough to believe there was no way his presence could be felt through the camera system being used to record the conversation. The event was already being broadcasted back toward Quantia Prime, the Malgovi Homeworld. The old Traveler could have easily stopped it, but the Stars had left nothing to chance. Nugar had been told to go to Threm and find a Light – he had done so. Nugar had also been told that he could form and craft that Light; shape it into one with whom the Stars could commune – that he was about to do. But he had been told that the only offensive hand he could raise would be to defend himself from a direct attack. It was that part of the directive which had made accepting the call the most difficult. Nugar was not a violent body, but he had never run from a fight and he was gifted in the arts exercised in the preservation of self. A good fight did wonders for the soul! But the Light would have to fend for itself. “We can expect more eyes and ears at Gavis,” he concluded, resuming his walk.
“You know a few things about how to move Dungi,” Nugar said, using the Vinthur word for excrement. “Let’s see if you know how to fight!”
“That viewing pod is out of rhythm with the others,” Dungias thought. “And it has only recently dropped out of its timing. We are being watched! But how could I notice it and a Traveler miss it? Simple. He did not, and I must learn how to fight for a very good reason!
“Where you lead, Traveler, I will follow,” Dungias said, keeping up with Nugar. “… for the moment, at least.”
“Oh yes! Very sharp learning curve with this one,” Nugar estimated as he smiled and giggled.
“Do you know why I sho
t you?”
“Teacher, this would be easier if you were to–”
“I judged you according to your own perspectives,” Nugar advised. “It would seem that while you can speak in terms of true logic, you have missed its purpose altogether. Do you wish to know the simplest rule of logic?
“Yes,” Dungias answered emphatically.
“In order for there to be true balance to the Void, there must be a thing of logic for every single thing that logic cannot grasp! That is true logic; the acknowledgment of things not known! Knowledge will never outweigh experience. Mind you that both are needed, but you must find the proper mixture.
“Speaking of special mixes, the construct of the shield and the armoured sleeve,” Nugar continued. “… as I said before, that was very good work! Among the Vinthur, they would say you possess meaningful hands! It would be foolishness to believe that what the Stars want with you has nothing to do with your skill of crafting. It too will have to be trained.
“And yes, you might even find the means to build a resolve to physical conflict,” Nugar said after hearing Dungias’ thoughts. “You will build much, Dungi. Much indeed!”
“It is unfortunate that I cannot start with building some privacy of mind,” Dungias thought and Nugar stumbled and fell, laughing so hard. Despite the aggravation, Dungias looked down on his teacher and smiled.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Laozi
