by Chris Reher
“What was that about?” he said. “You should have returned to the ship at once. You should have taken a gun. What were you thinking?”
Cyann frowned. “It’s not dangerous.”
“We have no way of knowing that. You know better than this.”
She nodded all too aware that she deserved the reprimand. “Something was out there. It spoke to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard its thoughts.”
“Telepathy? That bird?”
“No, not the bird.” She hesitated a while, staring at nothing. “Someone out there. Reaching for me. Picking up on my khamal.”
He tilted his head. “You know that isn’t possible.”
“Of course I know,” she said more sharply than she really meant to. Whether used to heal or to share an emotion or even to communicate telepathically, the khamal mind-link used by Delphians had to be initiated by touch. Few exceptions existed and certainly not for her, who was only half Delphian or her Human mother, who was only able to engage through the use of a mechanical interface embedded in her brain. “But there was something there. It... it’s familiar. Like...” she glanced at him before shifting her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. “Like before.”
He exhaled forcefully and sat down beside her on her bunk, his voice more gentle. “That was a very long time ago. You were a child then. Nothing but mental echoes and imaginary friends. Isn’t that what the Shantirs decided?”
“They did,” she sighed. Nobody knew to what extent her hybrid brain obeyed Delphian mental disciplines and she had been both a vexation and an intellectual puzzle for several of the elder Shantirs that had taken an interest. The peculiar presence she had sometimes encountered had been dismissed as harmless manifestations of her mentors’ own khamal state, somehow perceived by the precocious child. The Shantirs’ Human counterparts at the Union’s clinics had declared it to be the girl’s desire for kinship among those who saw her as an outsider. Childhood fantasies that would dissipate with age. No one had warned her that they’d return to plague her adulthood.
“What did it say?” Anders asked cautiously.
She turned her haunted face to him. “Help me.”
Anders suppressed the shiver that started low on his back and moved upward to his nape. He reached out to straighten the disheveled blue strands around her face. Her azure eyes had paled to flat and lifeless disks above dark shadows looking like bruises. “You’re too tired,” he said. “Working too hard.”
“I’m fine, Anders. You work just as hard and so does Nigel. I can do my share.”
“Well, something’s not right. You’ve been tired and edgy and your attention wanders. That’s not like you. I’ve been around you Delphians for all of my life and I still don’t really understand how your mind works. But even I know that hearing random voices isn’t part of things. I need you on your game out there. Not distracted by phantoms.” He came to his feet. “We’re leaving here in a few days and then you’re going straight to the Shantir enclave to report this. Let them have a look inside that pretty head of yours. Get yourself some rest while you’re there. You know I can’t have you on my team if you’re not in top shape.”
She sighed. “Yes, Uncle.”
He bent to kiss the top of her head. “Now, meanwhile, you’re not to leave the ship by yourself and that’s your boss telling you.”
Chapter Two
Being woken by the sound of shifting drives and the automatic adjustments of a ship’s internal systems had long ago become a familiar way to start the day. Jovan allowed himself to rise out of his doze-like khamal and stretched his long legs. He remembered now that he was no longer aboard his own vessel, the one that had taken him far beyond the Trans-Targon sector in search of knowledge for these past eight years. For once someone else was doing the piloting. All of the jumpsites in this sector were solidly mapped and did not require a navigator of his caliber.
He sat up and, yawning, ran his hands through his thick blue hair. The bench that had cradled him since leaving his crew on Targon over ten hours ago was far more comfortable than those he was used to but his mind was already on tonight’s sleep. His pale lips curved in a smile when he imagined himself wallowing in the comfort of a real bed, the windows of his room open to the smells and sounds of his home planet – he’d forgotten to check what time of year it was on Delphi but he promised himself open windows and fresh air anyway. And he would walk in the hills again to feel that wonderful cool breeze from the northern mountains.
“Shan Jovan?” a gentle voice intruded upon his idle thoughts.
He looked up at an attendant walking down the rows of sleep lounges. Some of the other passengers now also stirred in preparation of landing.
“Shan Jovan, the captain requests that you join her in the cockpit.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, all is well.” The young man smiled blandly and moved away down the aisle.
Jovan pulled himself up and ducked into the walkway to turn toward the service areas of the ship. He had taken a commuter trip on an Air Command sleeper, not quite as luxurious as some of the commercial passenger craft but it was faster and had allowed him to leave directly from the base on Targon for Delphi. He was not a commissioned officer but the research expedition, largely in search of new keyholes that could be turned into navigable jumpsites, had been entirely funded by the Commonwealth’s military. The perks were considerable.
He knocked on the cockpit door which opened almost at once.
“Come in, let’s not be formal,” he was greeted.
Jovan stepped into the small space where the captain, her navigator and the com officer turned to him expectantly. All of them were Centauri, judging by their glossy black hair and eyes that carried a mild violet glow in the dim light. The captain, a broad-shouldered, crew-cut woman whose uniform threatened to come apart at the seams waved him into a vacant seat beside her.
“Come sit,” she shouted without having any real need to shout. “We’re honored to have you aboard our humble little ship. Rumor has it you’ve been to the Badlands and back.”
“They’re not so bad,” Jovan said and took the offered seat.
“Crazy far place to travel to,” she said. “Of course, me and my crew don’t shuttle farther than Delphi, maybe Magra the odd time. I like that just fine.”
Jovan smiled politely, thinking that he could imagine no more tedious jaunt than to ferry passengers from Targon’s bleak military hub to Delphi where off-worlders weren’t even allowed to leave the base.
“I hear you’ve been gone years now,” she said.
“Eight, Delphi time.”
“Well, the boys and I thought you might want to see it right away.” She turned to her controls to roll the ship and grinned broadly as the blue and white ball that was Delphi slowly appeared on the ship’s main view screen.
Jovan exhaled audibly. “You are so right, Captain,” he said, unable to tear his gaze away from the planet. He couldn’t remember if he had looked back when he left here, so eager had he been to embark on his latest assignment. He had seen many planets from a distance since earning his navigator’s credential but few of them rivaled Delphi in its breathtaking beauty. Oceans and mountains, clouds and storms, ice and forests, no deserts. And dancing around it all a scattering of moons, ensuring that night never fell completely on Delphi.
“Happy to be coming home?” she said. “I’m sure not much has changed since you left.”
“I’m pretty sure of that, too,” he replied, liking that just fine. He had no real family on Delphi but called no other place home. Both of his parents had died early and his abilities had qualified him to move to one of the enclaves to study with the Shantirs, adding a wealth of neuroscience to his education. Had he not met Major Tychon and his Human mate, Lieutenant Colonel Nova Whiteside, he would now be part of the sect, a lifelong vocation. But instead of taking up the blue robes of the Shantir to study the mysteries of the
mind and its effects on matter, he had turned to deep space on his quest for knowledge of the outside worlds. It was Nova who had made sure that he returned between assignments to complete his studies and become a full-fledged Shantir. And it was Tychon who had mentored him to become a Level Three navigator. They were his family and he felt a stab of excitement when he thought of seeing them again.
Jovan realized that he had missed something when the captain turned to him with a quizzical expression.
“Sorry, I was enraptured.” He smiled with a nod to the planet.
“I was asking if you’re here for the fireworks.”
“What fireworks?”
“Asteroid heading this way. Small one. Got a few ships keeping an eye on it. It’s on a direct course for Delphi but they want a look at it first before they divert it. Might even bounce it off Delphi. That ought to be pretty.”
He nodded. “Looks like my timing is good, then.”
She tilted her head. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have to ask. What’ll the folks think when they see you with your hair in this state?”
Jovan’s hand involuntarily reached up to brush through the thick shock of blue. Although it was far from short now, he had given up the veritable mane prized by Delphian males. All of them grew their hair long, often kept in a single braid, and cutting it off was nearly unthinkable. He had not meant to go against convention when he had asked a crew mate to remove his braid. The long tresses were impossible to maintain on a voyage where personal grooming was often a luxury. In the throes of regret he had later asked a more fashion-conscious friend to shape it neatly.
He winced when he looked ahead to the disapproving looks he was sure to collect from his Shantir elders. Unshakably traditionalists, change did not come easy to Delphians and some of the notions considered fashionable on other worlds were usually met with contempt. Rarely voiced, of course, but expressed by politely ignoring the whole thing as though it never existed. He doubted he’d get away with it so easily, given that his adopted clan included a number of Humans whose forthright ways had rubbed off on the rest of them.
“I hope they won’t notice,” he said.
The captain gaped at him for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter. “I see you picked up a sense of humor, too, on your travels. They won’t know what to make of you.”
* * *
Lieutenant Colonel Nova Whiteside’s sense of humor was nowhere in evidence on this day when once again Air Command’s ideas of interplanetary relations did not seem to mesh very well with those of Delphi.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” She scowled at the screen. “What’s so special about this one?”
“I have no idea, other than that it’s extrasolar,” the Centauri officer responded with a shrug. Stationed on Targon where far more pressing issues vied for her attention, she seemed quite happy to let Nova deal with this. “We’re guessing it’s packing something interesting. And since it came through sub-space we haven’t a clue about its origin. You think you can keep everyone happy over there?”
Nova sighed. Just an hour ago word had come that the small asteroid heading for Delphi would be captured and locked into a high orbit over the planet. That meant an orbiting research station was already on its way here, there would be more ships on the ground, more security, more traffic. In other words, everything that Delphi loathed about its minimal interaction with the Commonwealth of United Planets but had learned to tolerate in exchange of trade and for protection against the Union’s rebel enemies. Having what they would think of as someone else’s asteroid parked in their air space was not going to please them. “How many civilians?”
“None on the ground.” The Centauri’s words were delayed by only a few seconds while her communication was nearly instantly relayed through the single jumpsite between here and Targon. “Couple of supply trips maybe. You’ll see a few more Destroyers till they’ve locked it in. But we’ve asked everyone to stay upside. I doubt they’ll be in orbit long enough to get a hankering for land.”
“All right then,” Nova said. If they could keep all but the military planes from landing and if no one decided to take a stroll off the base, this whole thing might go nearly unnoticed by most of Delphi’s reclusive population. “I’ll let the Council know,” she said. “Let’s hope this goes quickly.”
Nova was eager to hand this assignment back to the regular base commander who was currently also on Targon. In a few more weeks she would return to her post there, busy with a batch of recruits fresh out of flight school and happily distracted while Tychon, her Delphian mate, joined Anders and their daughter Cyann on their latest research expedition.
She looked up when her Delphian aide knocked on the transparent wall of her workspace. She waved for her to enter while she signed off from Targon. “Can you believe this?” she mumbled. “One little chunk of dirt and they get all excited. The Council will no doubt think it’s some clever ploy to spy on them.”
“Isn’t it?” The young woman grinned.
“Don’t you start!” Nova slipped into her uniform jacket. “How are we doing for time?”
“Transport is here. And your boyfriend is, too.”
“Finally something I want to hear.” Nova went to the window overlooking the air field and the ground vehicle depot to see Tychon in conversation with one of the mechanics. A cold wind from the mountains cut mercilessly across the tarmac to whip the long strands of his blue hair around his head. He gathered his fleece-lined coat tighter and turned to look up to where she stood, as always acutely aware of her presence. The expression on his sharply profiled face did not change when he walked into the building. “The others aren’t with him?”
“Who are you expecting?”
“Anders and Cyann were going to come up to welcome Jovan home.” Nova ran her hands over her red hair to catch a few wayward strands and went to the door. They now felt the dull thrumming of the interstellar transport lowering its bulk onto the air field. “What a reunion, with all of us here at the same time for a change! Cyann’s going to be so excited to see him.”
Tychon met her in the cavernous main entrance lobby of the base where a few soldiers and civilians waited to board the transport for the return trip to Targon. She matched his brisk pace toward one of the nearby lounges. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said in greeting.
“Major,” she replied just as formally. They stopped briefly to let her officially sign off duty for the day. Her promotion in ranks beyond his had been a calculated move for them, allowing her to position herself to permanently take over command of the military base on Delphi within the next few years. It promised a relatively easy transition into their eventual retirement on their clan’s sprawling estate in the valley. No longer active Vanguard agents, their interest had shifted to less dangerous but no less interesting work. Nova had discovered a love for teaching and Tychon, although barely one hundred years old, had withdrawn from active duty to finally find time to join Anders on research missions.
Once they entered the lounge, Nova hurried to an observation window but saw little more than the exterior of the well-traveled commuter ship. With typical Delphian courtesy, an umbilical had been extended to keep the arrivals out of the biting wind only to delay them with tedious immigration procedures before allowing them onto the base. “Where are Anders and Cyann?” She turned back to Tychon who was shrugging out of his coat.
“He’s gone to pick her up at the enclave. She stayed there overnight.” He endured silently when she reached up to straighten the long hair hanging over his shoulders. When she fussed with his collar he caught her hands in his. “You left early this morning.”
“Had to make up some time. So much work with the new arrivals coming in.”
“Can you get away tomorrow? You’re heading for Targon soon and we’ll be on Cet-Norwan by the time you get back. We’ll be gone two months.” His fingertips touched her chin and then brushed upward to her temple. She smiled when she felt him contact the neural interface at
her temple to join his mind to hers. They did not exchange words – telepathy with a non-Delphian was painful for him and they used it only when necessary. But his soothing presence in her head had become a state of being for her; something they both enjoyed and craved. “So little time, so much to do,” he added with a slow grin.
“You are referring to our guests?” She stood on her toes to kiss him negligently. “A full house again! Jovan, Cyann, Anders!”
“Yes.” He dropped into a lounge and propped his feet on a nearby bench. “That’s what I was referring to.”
She sent him a mental touch that left no doubt that she knew exactly to what he was referring. He drew a hissing breath. “Brat,” he said.
Nova glanced through the glass wall overlooking the entrance hall to see if she could get away with something a little more physical but a group of returning pilots had a clear view of whatever she might devise to torture her husband. She smiled happily when one of the tall Delphians among them angled toward the lounge.
“There he is,” she said. “Oh, he’s changed so much!” She watched Jovan enter the room, noting that his lanky frame had filled out but had not lost the careless grace she remembered. These past few years had aged his face, or perhaps his adventures had, but he made no effort to practice the tight-lipped restraint of his people and instead grinned broadly when Nova flung herself into his arms. She bounced up to kiss his cheek, this time caring not one bit what the travelers in the hall thought of their commanding officer in such a display. “You’re home! I missed you so, Jovie. I can’t believe you’re here.” She stepped back to admire him. “Can you possibly get any more handsome? Ty, doesn’t he look like a proper explorer?”
Jovan glanced toward Tychon and made a few ineffective attempts to smooth his well-worn leather jacket and straighten the threadbare straps of his kit bag. “Shan Tychon,” he said respectfully.
