“It’s worth a try,” Michael said. “I ask you to accompany me, if you don’t mind. I will likely go into a sort of trance when I connect with it. If it attacks, I won’t be able to move out of its way, let alone protect myself.”
“We shall watch over you most carefully,” Vikter promised. “Do you want to do this now?”
“No, not yet. I would first like to speak with the man you said was working with the Xanti, and the Damosion. After that, I would like to examine the bio-suit, and I should also review the test results you’ve compiled so far. The more information I am armed with before I approach the Xanti, the better.”
“The Damosion is out with the Falcorans checking the barrier on the far side of the ranch,” Vikter said. “I don’t think you’ll get much from him that will be of use to you. He’s been able to give us some logistical information that he picked up while on the Xanti ship, but that’s all he knows. From what he’s told us, his people are a peaceful, gentle race with almost no technology. The Xanti swoop in now and then and grab one of them for their ability to nullify magic. That’s about it.”
“I’ll save him for later then, and focus on the human male,” Michael said.
“Good idea,” Vikter agreed. “The man’s name is Sergio Farnswaite. He was invited by Princess Lariah some months ago to decorate the new nursery that the Dracons built for their children, but he did not show up. Then, two months later, he arrived without warning. He lured Arima Berta into the wilds where the Xanti awaited them. Its intent was to copy Arima Berta, then kill her and take her place. It very nearly succeeded.”
While he’d been talking, Vikter led Michael and his brothers out of the detention wing and into the Research Center. Since Sergio had not been an accomplice to the Xanti’s true plans, but rather an unwitting dupe whose Mother had been held hostage against his cooperation before being murdered, he was not kept under lock and key. Nor was he fully free. He was under orders to remain on the ranch, and to reside within the detention wing of the Research Center. He was allowed to go outside, visit the garrison or walk the property to a limited degree, though he was allowed nowhere near any of the homes or guesthouses. Vikter knew that Sergio was waiting in an interview room since he’d requested that he make himself available should Michael wish to speak with him.
Vikter knocked on the door once, then turned the knob and entered to see Sergio Farnswaite, a smallish man with oddly spiked hair and blindingly bright clothing, sitting at the table waiting for them. His scent indicated that he was relaxed, but at the same time, wary.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said politely. “I appreciate your cooperation this day. Our colleague, Dr. Michael Davis, would like to speak with you about your encounters with the Xanti.”
“Of course, Consul Vikter,” Sergio replied. His voice was subdued, as it had been since he’d learned of his mother’s death at the hands of the Xanti. It had been many years since the Vulpirans had lost their own mother, yet they still missed her. They understood the loss of a parent.
“I’m happy to assist in any way that I can,” Sergio added.
Vikter moved toward one end of the table, gesturing to Michael to take a seat at the other end. Lance and Hunt took seats opposite Sergio, leaving him alone on his side of the long meeting table.
“Mr. Farnswaite,” Michael said once everyone was seated, “I’m a xeno-psychiatrist, a scientist who specializes in the psychology of alien races. I’m interested in anything you can tell me about the Xanti, and your interactions with them. What they said, how they behaved, any emotional responses you may have seen and what provoked them. As you are the only person known to have been held on a Xanti ship, anything you can tell me about that will be helpful as well.”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about the Xanti ship,” Sergio said. “I was kept in a tiny, bare room with only a mattress on the floor for a bed, the entire time I was there. My cell had no windows and no doors, most of the time. Occasionally a door would appear and food would be pushed into the room. At other times a door would appear in a different place and I would have a chance to visit with Mother. Sometimes a Xanti named Xi-Kung would come in and talk to me, but I never saw another Xanti, or anyone else during the time I was there.”
While Sergio spoke, Michael pulled a hand terminal from his pocket and began taking notes. Vikter had told him that the entire interview would be recorded, but taking notes was habit for him, and helped him to remember some facts more clearly later.
“Mr. Farnswaite, what you’ve just told me is far more informative than you realize,” he said. “For example, we’ve known for a very long time that the Xanti are highly secretive and security conscious. Only now are we beginning to realize that they are not only secretive, but paranoid. What you’ve just told me supports that theory, and you’ve barely begun.”
Sergio nodded thoughtfully, starting to understand what it was this man was really after. He realized that this was his one and, probably only, opportunity to get back at the Xanti for murdering his mother. He closed his eyes, focusing carefully, determined to relate every single detail of his dealings with the Xanti as precisely as possible.
After a few moments Sergio opened his eyes and began to speak, his voice low and determined as he painstakingly related every detail he could remember of the Xanti. What was said, when and by whom, the actions and reactions of himself and the Xanti. He did not embellish or improvise, nor did he exaggerate. He was clear as to what things he remembered absolutely, and what was impression, guess, or vaguely remembered. By the time he was finished his voice was slightly hoarse, but he was satisfied that he’d given as thorough an accounting of himself and the Xanti as it was possible for him to give.
“You have done very well, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said. “We sincerely thank you for your help.”
“There is no need to thank me, Consul Vikter,” Sergio said. “I’m glad that my ill considered choices and unconscionable behavior have provided at least something for the good. It can never absolve me of my actions, nor excuse my part in my mother’s death. But if it is of some use against the Xanti, then I am satisfied.”
“I assure you, Mr. Farnswaite, what you have done here today will be of great use,” Michael said. “I’m certain it will help me a great deal when I face the Xanti.”
“Face the Xanti?” Sergio asked in surprise. “You don’t mean that you intend to meet personally with the Xanti that the Falcorans captured, do you?”
“Yes, that is precisely what I intend to do,” Michael replied.
“Are you certain that’s wise?” Sergio asked “I promise you, they can not be trusted.”
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Farnswaite,” Michael said. “But I have no intention of trusting any Xanti.”
“Just be careful,” Sergio said. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “If you gentlemen no longer need me, I’ll leave now.”
“Of course, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said. “Thank you again for your efforts.”
Sergio smiled, but it was a sad expression. “If you need me again, you know where I’ll be.”
“Shall we go review the test data now?” Michael asked, starting to get up. Lance waved him back into his seat.
“Before we go any further, I think it’s important that we warn you of the danger you are getting into,” he said to Michael. “If word gets out that you are working directly with us against the Xanti, I assure you that the Xanti will seek to either destroy you, or capture you. Our security measures are as strong as we can make them, but there are no guarantees. You may wish to consider that before you go any further.”
“There is nothing to consider,” Michael said. “I am a citizen of the Thousand Worlds, as are you. As such, I must do all that I can against the Xanti, regardless of the risk.”
The Vulpirans exchanged a look that Michael could not interpret. “You are a good man, Michael,” Vikter said. “And a brave one.”
“I’m not so sure about brave,” Micha
el said. “I’m not a warrior or a soldier. I just know what I believe to be right, and I will stand by that.”
***
Honey entered Arima House with Nica at her side, feeling more than a little bit nervous. She knew that Aunt Berta was hoping she would identify the psychic talent of one of the berezi who was unaware she had any. She didn’t mind helping if she could. The problem was that, in her experience, people who didn’t realize they had such abilities were often not at all pleased to be told otherwise. Especially Teriens. It was generally best to keep her knowledge to herself, a practice her mother had drummed into her at an early age when they’d first gone to live on Terien. It wasn’t going to be easy to change a life long habit.
“Honey, Nica,” Berta greeted them, giving each of them a hug. “I’m so happy you came. Did you sleep well? How’s your guest house? Is there anything you need?”
“The guesthouse is beautiful, Aunt Berta,” Honey replied. “We slept well, thank you, and I can’t think of a single thing we need. If I do, I’ll let you know.”
“I know, I sound like an old woman,” Berta said with a smile. “But then, in many ways I still am an old woman.”
“Auntie Berta, you’re not old,” Nica piped up. “You’re pretty. Not like Genny Davis at all.”
“Genny Davis?” Berta asked, hearing the tone of dislike in the child’s voice when she said the name.
“She means Michael’s mother,” Honey said. “She’s Terien.”
Berta tilted her head, hearing more in that brief explanation than had been said. Unfortunately, she didn’t know anything about Teriens, so she didn’t understand the meaning. She made a mental note to do some research.
“Come, let me introduce you to the women,” Berta said. “I’ve told them a little about you, and they’re excited to meet you.”
Honey’s smile became strained, but she nodded and followed Berta across the sitting room and into a large dining room filled with sunlight and chattering women. The overall atmosphere was bright, happy and relaxed, which eased Honey’s nerves.
“Everyone, this is my niece, Honey, and her daughter, Nica,” Berta said. “Honey, this is everyone,” she said with a wink. “I’ll just let the ladies introduce themselves as you speak with them. I know that if I rattle off all their names it won’t matter much anyway.”
“You’re right, Aunt Berta,” Honey said. “I’m terrible with names, sorry to say.”
“So am I, dear,” Berta said. “Now, you two go on over to the sideboard there and fill yourself a couple of plates, then come sit. I’ve saved two seats near me, just over there.”
Honey nodded, then led Nica to the sideboard. A few minutes later they took their seats at the table and began to eat.
“Honey, my name is Shellie,” said a young woman across the table from her with short, curly blonde hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.
“I’m glad to meet you, Shellie,” Honey said.
“Berta told us that you can sense psychic talents in other people, is that right?”
Honey looked up, startled to hear her ability spoken of so openly. She glanced around quickly, sure to see frowns on at least some of the women, but they all looked openly curious. “Yes, that’s right,” she replied after a moment.
“I’m really hoping you can help me,” Shellie said. “According to my genetic tests, I’m a berezi. Only I’ve never had any psychic talent. I kind of thought it would show up later, after I found my Rami, but I’ve been here over a month now and no one has reacted to my pheromones. I’m getting worried. Maybe I’m not a berezi after all.”
That this woman, and the others, not only accepted the idea of psychic talents, but wanted them, was a shock to Honey. Berta had implied as much, but it had been difficult for her to accept. She was beginning to see how different things really were here, on Jasan, from Terien.
She set her fork down and reached out with one hand across the table toward Shellie. Shellie smiled and, without hesitation, placed her hand in Honey’s. The table grew quiet as everyone watched, but Honey barely noticed as she focused all of her senses on the woman whose hand she held. After several moments, Honey smiled, gave Shellie’s hand a light squeeze, and withdrew her hand.
“You have...or rather, you will have, a very strong talent for sensing danger,” Honey said.
“Do you mean I’ll know if I’m going to cut myself or fall down the stairs? Something like that?” Shellie asked.
“No,” Honey replied, frowning slightly as she struggled to find a way to explain what she’d felt. “May I ask you a question, Shellie?”
“Of course,” Shellie replied. “Ask anything you like.”
“Do you have any family?”
The bright, open expression on Shellie’s face darkened slightly as she shook her head. “No, I don’t,” she replied. “My parents died when I was very young. I grew up in an orphanage.”
“Would it be accurate to say that you’ve never really felt as though you belonged?” Honey asked, hoping Shellie wasn’t offended by the question. But Shellie only smiled.
“No, I’ve never belonged anywhere,” she admitted. “That’s one reason I want so much to be an Arima. If it turns out that I’m not one, I’ll get on the waiting list for Bride House instead.”
“Well, I can’t tell you if you are, or are not, an Arima,” Honey said. “What I can tell you is that your talent is for sensing danger to your people as a whole. If you’ve never felt as though you belonged, that would explain why the talent has never manifested. Once you belong, your talent will come to the fore.”
“Oh, I like that,” Shellie said, smiling brightly once more. “Thank you so much, Honey.”
Honey smiled and started to say something, but a light pat on her arm from Nica drew her attention. “What is it, Nica?” she asked.
Nica crooked her finger and Honey bent down so that Nica could speak into her ear. She half expected that Nica needed to go to the bathroom, so when she heard what Nica had to say, she froze for a long moment in shock.
“Is something wrong, Honey?” Berta asked, noting the stiff expression on her niece’s face.
Honey straightened up and looked at Berta, then glanced down at Nica before looking at the faces around the table. She didn’t know what to do and for some reason her brain wasn’t working quickly enough for her to decide on the spur of the moment.
“It’s okay, Mana,” Nica said as she reached for the glass of juice in front of her plate.
Honey smiled at Nica. Sometimes the child acted far beyond her years. She’d often thought Nica had an old soul, an expression she didn’t fully understand, but still felt was right for Nica. She bit her lip as she tried to make up her mind.
“Honey?” Berta asked.
“I’m not ready to explain this completely,” Honey said, deciding on a compromise. “What I will tell you is that Nica has a gift of her own. Through it, she has learned that you, Shellie, do have a male-set. They are simply not on Jasan at the moment, nor will they be for another couple of months.”
Shellie smiled at Nica. “Thank you, Nica,” she said. “I think I would have given up hope soon without what the two of you have told me this morning. You’ve made me very happy.”
“Yes, Nica, thank you very much,” Berta added. She frowned in thought. “Shellie, I think that since your male-set will not be here for a while, we should let another berezi take your place, for the time being. Obviously you cannot leave the safety of the ranch, though. I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to what to do.”
“I don’t mind sharing my room,” said the tall, dark haired woman sitting beside Shellie. “If you can have another bed put in there, that is.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Berta said. “But are you sure you won’t mind, Willa?”
“Not at all,” Willa replied. “Shellie and I get on well, and besides, those rooms are huge. I shared a room that size with five other women when I was in college. Unless you object, Shellie.”
“Object? Not hardly,” she said with a laugh. “You are very generous, Willa, and I thank you.”
Willa blushed pink, but looked pleased.
“Well, if Shellie isn’t going to ask, I am,” Berta said with a grin. “Nica, do you have any idea who her Rami are? Which clan?”
Nica frowned at the strange word and started to shake her head. Then her eyes widened and she giggled. “Wolfies!” she said, clapping her hands together.
All of the women at the table joined in Nica’s laughter, Shellie going so far as to clap her hands as well. “Lobos,” she said when the laughter died down. “How wonderful! Thanks again, Nica.”
“You’re welcome,” Nica said before returning to her lunch.
“You ladies seem to be having a good time in here,” Hope Bearen said as she stepped into the dining room with a baby boy on her hip.
“Hello, Hope,” Berta said, getting up and hurrying around the table. “Why are you lugging this young man around like that?” she scolded gently as she reached out toward Harlan. The little boy grinned and leaned toward her, happy to go into her arms.
“Oh no, don’t you start,” Hope said, rolling her eyes. “I’m getting enough of that from my guys.”
“Who do you think asked me to keep an eye on you?” Berta asked as she chucked Harlan gently under the chin. “Now, where are my other favorite boys?”
“At home,” Hope replied. “I just came up to meet your niece, and Harlan wanted to come along to visit.”
“Well, here she is,” Berta said, leading Hope to the other end of the table where one of the housekeepers had already added a chair for Hope, and another was setting up a highchair for Harlan.
A few minutes later, after everyone was seated, Hope and Harlan each had a plate of food, and the introductions were made, Hope turned to Honey. “Thank you for delivering Aisling’s message, Honey,” she said.
“No problem,” Honey replied. “She’s a nice woman. She helped make the journey here from Earth go by a lot faster, so delivering a message wasn’t a lot to ask in return.”
The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga Page 5
