Veiled Planet (Hidden World Trilogy Book 1)

by Teagan Kearney

  Yes, there were kallin bears and other predators, but she already felt claustrophobic here, as she remembered sunsets bleeding red and crimson into the sky. The idea of being condemned to watching life, not living it, overwhelmed her.

  "Have you contacted my father?" she asked as the white-overalled female medic showed her into a small bare room. All she could see was a bed, a chair, a window with bars, and several steel gray jumpsuits hanging on a rail in an opened cupboard.

  "This is where you’ll stay for the moment." The woman, her blank professional mask in place, pointed along the corridor. "There’s a library through the end door. I’m in no doubt your parents have been informed of your safe recovery."

  "My mother is dead. When can I speak with my father?"

  The woman shifted uncomfortably under Kara’s scrutiny. "I’ll find out what’s happening and keep you up to date. A shower unit is through there," she indicated a door inside the room. "You should shower and change. Someone will be along shortly to speak to you."

  Kara nodded. She couldn’t wait to speak to Lorkan. At least her father wouldn’t want to dissect her. She stood in the shower, and relaxed as jets of hot water pulsed at her from all sides, flushing out the last of the sedpatch effects from her system. She had to admit she'd missed this aspect of life in the colony.

  When the warm air dryer finished, she ran her hands through her hair. It was longer than it had ever been, and she liked its dark smooth silkiness. She’d already decided to grow it long and have lots of small plaits, like the Marut women. Maybe in time, she'd add a few beads or colored threads, but she'd find her own style.

  She stared at herself in the shower room’s mirror, noting the changes to her body. Her figure had filled out; she possessed curves whereas before she’d resembled a pubescent teenager. Her arms and thighs were leaner and more muscled. The skin on her face and arms had darkened under the desert sun, and her eyes looked startlingly blue in her tanned face. She smiled at herself. Yes, she preferred the new Kara.

  When she emerged from the shower unit, she saw a tray with food in sterile prepared packets had been left on the table. She felt uneasy at the thought of someone entering while she was showering, checked the door, and found it locked. Okay, they didn't trust her. Good to know. She pulled on one of the drab gray jumpsuits and grabbed one of the sealed food packets. She was hungry and stuffed the nutrient filled wafers into her mouth. The food satisfied her hunger, but she missed the hot Marut spices. She was thinking of checking out the library when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," she called.

  The click of a lock pass and the same slick professional female medic entered. "Good," she said, eyeing the empty plate.

  Kara bristled at the patronizing tone. She wasn’t a child to be congratulated by a parent on finishing a tasteless meal no matter how nutritious.

  "I’m Marisa, and I’ll be explaining to you what we're going to do."

  "Do tell. I'd love to know as it’s such fun being the center of attention." Her instinct told her this woman wouldn't tell her what was really happening.

  The medic ignored her sarcasm. "First, we'll debrief you. Learn about your experiences out there. With them." She paused and took a breath, rushing on, "and we’re excited to be expanding our database on the Maruts." She beamed at Kara as if awarding her a special prize. "Thanks to you, of course." She added as an afterthought.

  "My father?" Kara demanded, remembering the treatment her co-cadets had given her from the moment she arrived at the Academy. She’d never been anything other than polite, and it hadn’t done her any favors; she had no more interest in playing nice.

  Marisa cleared her throat and looked uncomfortable. "The Senior Medic, Officer Bryson, knows more than I do, and he'll discuss your situation with you."

  "What do you mean? What situation?" Kara had kept her anger under control since the sedative wore off, but it was bubbling close to the surface.

  "Officer Bryson will explain. I’ll get rid of these," she said, reaching out to pick up Kara’s tunic and trews from where she'd tossed them on the floor.

  Before her hand could touch them, Kara snatched them away. "Oh no, you won’t," she snarled, holding them to her chest. "I’m keeping these. Is that clear?"

  Marisa backed off, a flash of fear on her face for a second, before the professional mask slid back in place. "Absolutely." She headed for the door as fast as she could.

  Kara held the clothes tight to her chest. She breathed in the scent—a mixture of desert dust and sea salt—and saw Rishi, his face soft as he looked at her, his eyes sparking golden in the sunlight.

  She knew the observation cameras in the room would have recorded her outburst. It was standard practice whether the patient was admitted for therapeutic or psychological reasons. If they thought she was hysterical, they'd sedate her. If she wanted to be released quickly, she had to behave as the sane, calm, obedient cadet she'd always been. She breathed deep, working hard to hold back the sobs. Where was her father? She needed him to get her out. She folded her Marut clothes in a neat pile, tucked them under her head as a pillow, and curled up on the bed. Without Rishi, she felt an odd, strange aching hurt in the middle of her chest. She lay on the bed as her mind chased around and around the problem of getting out of this place, like a long toothed neavel gnawing at the base of a jezebel tree, until finally, surrendering to exhaustion, she fell asleep.

  When she woke it was early evening, and gray streamers of cloud moved slowly across the pale patch of sky beyond the barred window.

  A short while later, Senior Medical Officer Bryson came to visit. An older, short, stout man with a fuzz of iron gray hair, Kara was sure he wanted his patients to think of him as fatherly, though she was unsettled by the hint of satisfaction in his eyes that he couldn’t quite hide. He invited her along to the library, offering her a seat in one of the two armchairs, and sat facing her in the other. On a nearby desk sat a micro-reader. Dusk fell, and the automated lightning, subdued and soft, created an atmosphere clearly meant to encourage confession.

  "First things first," he said, settling back with his small clean hands clasped across his rounded belly. "Your father, Lorkan, is off-planet."

  "Off-planet?" she repeated as if her hearing was failing.

  "Yes. When you didn’t return with the cadets, and we found no trace of you, your father arranged a visit to some very influential people, and gained permission from the Colonial Planet's Council to approach the indigenous tribes. We were lucky they agreed to an exemption to our trade agreement, and we sent the shuttle to retrieve you."

  Kara sat back digesting this information. Bryson’s words clarified certain matters in her mind. Without doubt it was Hitam with whom they'd made contact as his actions last night demonstrated. Why Hitam, though, and not Ikeya who was part of the annual trade delegation, and a member of the Inner Council? And who did her father know who was powerful enough to influence such an exception to a colony edict? Her parents had been among the second wave of colonists to arrive on Hamarkhis. Lorkan had never spoken much about his birth family, and she didn’t recollect him talking much about his father. "Can you tell me who you contacted among the tribes and how?"

  "I’m not sure. The communications sector has methods of contacting the tribal leaders. I guess you’d call them emergency measures. I can inquire for you, if you think it necessary?" He made it sound unimportant, a minor detail she needn’t bother herself with.

  "Oh, I’d definitely appreciate it." She was banking that they wanted to keep her happy, and did her best to sound firm but casual.

  "You’ll be pleased to hear that your class was demoted and every cadet will have to repeat the year, and this incident has been entered into their permanent record. The Academy authorities took their desertion of a colony member extremely seriously.”

  Kara shrugged. Her life had changed too much since then for her to feel sorry for those who’d gone ahead and left her behind. Every action has a reaction.

  “We want y
ou to stay here in this facility while we give you a thorough check-over and a debriefing. Is that okay?" He eyed her as if she were a tasty morsel he was about to pounce on, or a choice specimen waiting for dissection. The same expression as Hitam had worn when observing her. "You are our colony's prime expert on the Marut culture and lifestyle." He beamed at her.

  Except for the Maruts themselves, she thought. "How long will this take, the debriefing and everything?" His request was a formality. Considering her circumstances, the authorities had the power to invoke any number of regulations to hold her here. If she refused to willingly participate, they could request Lorkan’s permission for a truth serum to be administered, and they'd get what they wanted that way. She had no choice but to agree. She decided to say nothing of her relationship with Rishi or of the kidnapping, and most certainly wouldn't be mentioning the Artefact. She didn’t trust her own people to maintain any treaty if the colonists learned of an ancient interstellar spaceship whose advanced technology was ahead of their own—and still worked. In the cause of the greater good, all restrictions could be removed. If the Maruts protested, there were options: forcible relocation to another planet or, if they attempted to fight in any way, simple removal from the equation. The end always justified the means.

  "Oh, I’m confident we’ll be finished by the time your father returns."

  The look he gave her, confirmed her suspicions. He definitely saw her as his route to promotion. "When will he return?"

  He tried hard to appear regretful, and failed. “I’m sorry I don’t have that information to hand, but I’m sure you'll be seeing him shortly. Stay here in the library and relax. The debrief and medical checks will start in the morning." He stood and patted her on the head, which made her want to scream, and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Deception

  Colony Settlement Rule 101 Section B:

  Some treatments have irreversible effects; therefore every effort must be made to rehabilitate patients before more serious measures are considered.

  Medical tests began early the next day and continued till late afternoon. During the physical examination, the medics were horrified when they discovered the scars on her leg from the kallin bear, and instantly began a cell rejuvenation program assuring her the fading weals would be gone within twenty-four hours. She refrained from telling them that according to the Marut viewpoint they were viewed as a testament to her survival.

  Nanoprobes sampled her blood, and medics put her through a number of physical tests using various machines. She complied willingly, but the entire situation was making her feel like a specimen on a petri dish. She could only hope her father would return soon.

  The door to her room was no longer locked, and she had free access to the library, but after the day's rigorous testing, she fell exhausted into bed. She didn't even have the energy to study the data they had on the Maruts. Just as she was drifting off, a familiar jolt, weak and tenuous, connected her to Rishi. Bit by bit, his warmth filled her, and she could smell the dry warmth of the desert. She had a sudden image of sitting around the fire one evening eating with Ikeya and Yleni, when her attempt to tell a joke in Marut had left Rishi in hysterics. She reached out but he'd gone. The new, familiar ache of his absence replaced the glow, but she smiled as sleep claimed her.

  Once the physical checkup was done, the interviews began and each day after that fell into the same routine. The colony wake-up call via the intercom started as a hum and grew till none but the dead were able to ignore it, dragging her from sleep. The sound ceased the instant she entered the shower unit. She'd forgotten how regimented colony life was. Breakfast was always on the table when she finished showering, and she was given time to eat before they knocked on the door. A medic, usually Marisa but sometimes other silent professionals, led her to the library where the interviews continued.

  Officer Bryson's regime allowed a break for lunchtime after which she walked an hour outside in a small walled space next to the library, then it was back indoors for more questions.

  Initially, they invited her to recall what happened in chronological order. Others questioned her, but Bryson was always present at the interviews, sitting behind her and taking notes as she talked. The psychs took three long days of intense questioning, brain scans, and psychological assessments before they finished. They were followed by the geologists, the botanists, the biologists, the anthropologists, and the linguists; everyone took a turn. Sometimes the same expert interviewed her morning and afternoon, and at others, she'd speak to two or three people during a session. After a few sittings she knew most of their names. Whether they were sympathetic to her or not, their questions were endless.

  Kara was helpful, forthcoming and gave them as much detail about her observations as she could remember. According to Rishi, Ikeya wanted to move the two societies closer together, and she hoped he would approve of her actions. If the two cultures understood each other better, the Marut suspicion and the colonists’ prejudice would reduce through interaction. Of the personal relationship between her and Rishi, she said nothing. Nor did she speak of their kidnapping, escape and the Artefact. The result of believing her could be catastrophic for the Maruts, and disbelieving her would have the psychs recommending a mind-wipe.

  She told them about being separated from Rishi’s tribe because of the storm and how Hitam found them. When she mentioned the tribal leader, she said nothing that might be construed as devious or disrespectful. She suspected he’d been in contact with someone from Intelligence or Communications. How else did they know where to come, and she remembered very clearly the way his guards had viciously treated Rishi when dragging her away from him.

  Every morning, she enquired about her father and received the same answer. He’ll be back shortly, and another day would pass without his return.

  By the second week Kara thought she going mad. Her position was becoming more and more unbearable. Even stuck in the tent at Hitam's camp she hadn’t felt this closed in. She didn’t understand how traveling and living outdoors for one lunar cycle had changed her but it had, and the one hour they allowed her outside wasn't enough. She requested longer time outside or that the interviews take place there. Bryson regarded her with interest, but refused. Fearing medication if she kicked up a fuss, she agreed with good grace, but the constant worrying about her father’s absence and the forced confinement left her restless or lethargic; she didn't know how much longer she could keep up this semblance of sanity and cooperation without revealing her true feelings. She longed for Rishi and if it wasn’t for the intermittent dreamlike connections with him, she wasn’t sure she could maintain her performance.

  Kara was ecstatic the day her father returned. Bryson had informed her first thing that morning, his tone was that of a generous benefactor when he told her there’d be no interviews that day as her father was coming to the hospital straight from the shuttle port. Please, please, she pleaded silently. Let them have enough information so I can get out of here and go home with my father.

  She waited, tight with impatience all morning, and threw herself into Lorkan’s arms, hugging him tight the second he stepped foot into the library. "Dad!"

  "Okay there, kid." He loosened her grip and stepped back. "You’re looking better than ever. Marut life agrees with you, eh?" His craggy lined face, short gray hair, and deep set blue eyes—Kara’s eyes—had never looked so reassuring. They hugged again.

  "I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Dad," she pitched her voice low, “get me out of here. I’m going stir-crazy." She knew she sounded desperate.

  "Sure, as soon as they certify you're safe, we’ll be out of here and on the helijet home. I promise."

  Kara was puzzled. "What do you mean? Didn’t you just say I looked fine?" What had they told him? That she’d gone planet-side, become one of them, gone native?

  "Sit down, Kara, I need to tell you something," he paused as she settled herself. "Well, actually there's a great deal I have to tell you, but Bryson has aske
d my permission to perform three procedures on you."

  "Your permission? But I’m an adult." Unable to sit still, she stood and paced up and down the room, her thoughts whirling around in panic. There was only one procedure she knew of where family members' permission overruled the rights of the individual—when a person became a danger to others or themselves and a mind-wipe was required. Perhaps they suspected she wasn't telling them everything? Who knew what abuse they thought she'd endured, and suppressed? Maybe they wanted to administer a truth serum? But what in the universe was the third treatment?"

  Lorkan, tired shadows under his eyes, watched her.

  "Dad, what’s going on?"

  He leaned toward her. "The officers who rescued—"

  "Rescued! Dad, they dragged me away and then sedated me!" Her voice cracked as she relived the distress at being torn away from Rishi.

  "Let me finish. Your behavior, then and since, has been a source of concern to them."

  "Them," she snorted. "Don’t you mean him? Officer Bryson?"

  "Not just him. The whole psych team."

  A small cold knot began in her gut and spread upward. No, no, no! "They’re asking for a mind-wipe?" Her voice came out small, terrified.

  "You’ve given them an encyclopedia’s worth of information—you’ve turned their ideas about the Maruts upside down, but they’re certain you’re holding back. They don’t understand whether you’re repressing memories or not. If you are, they want an explanation."

  "You don't believe them, do you?" She couldn’t understand why her father seemed to be taking their side. Why wasn't he making a big fuss at the idea of his only daughter having her mindwiped with its accompanying loss of personality and memories? Every memory of her mother would be erased.