by Chris Reher
The Council member spoke up. “You propose to make this a military operation, then?”
“A Commonwealth mission,” Nova replied quickly. “This affects all of us. And Targon, like it or not, has the greatest resources. No one else has the sort of mobile astrophysics lab that we’ll need.”
“And fire power,” Moghen added.
“No one suggests destroying the anomaly if, as you believe, it is populated,” Jovan said.
“But that will be an option. It always is.”
“Given the possible outcome, yes,” Nova said. “It will be a last resort, I assure you.”
“What assurance can you offer?”
“I’ll volunteer to command this venture.”
Council looked to Tychon as representing the clans. “Phera concurs,” Tychon said. “Let’s turn this over to the Union. This is beyond Delphi’s resources and jurisdiction.”
Nova gave her mate a sunny smile. “Now all we need is the sort of spanner that can get us through those keyholes quicker than speedy.”
He sighed. “I knew this was coming,” he said. “I’m in.”
She looked past him to Moghen. “Since these individuals can communicate telepathically we should take along a few Shantirs.”
If Tychon had objections to this none of it showed on his face. Cyann noticed a slight darkening of his eyes and hid a grin. No doubt Nova had made sure to get his agreement before adding the Shantirs to the mission.
“I’ll go, too,” she said.
“Can’t stop me, either,” Anders added. “With Council’s permission, that is.”
Cyann peered at Jovan, waiting for his response. But his eyes were focused on the star map and he said nothing about joining the expedition.
Chapter Five
The mildness of Delphian winters, like the rest of the planet’s seasons, would have brought tourism and settlement to any other world with such climate. But Delphi cared neither for tourism nor immigration and so their winters, their cool, crisp summers and the short seasons in-between remained unexplored by strangers and unblemished by outside influences.
It was rare for off-worlders to find themselves invited to places outside the Union’s carefully guarded Air Command base in the foothills. But even Delphians did not enter the secret, walled gardens of the Shantir’s enclave unless they themselves were members of the sect. Cyann, although a frequent visitor to the enclave, had never been out this way.
Wrapped snugly in a long, wool-lined cloak, she peered curiously from under her hood to look around the carefully groomed grounds, enchanted by the undisturbed blanket of fresh snow illuminated by Delphi’s moons. Ice crystals sparkled in this light which required few of the carefully-placed lanterns to help them find their way. She walked between Anders and Nigel, who were likely also wondering what had possessed Shan Moghen to take them back here, into the enclave’s most private sanctuary.
Jovan and Shantir Regin walked behind them, sharing a murmured conversation and less enraptured by the beauty of the landscape. Cyann looked up to see large rings of ice around the three overhead moons. She nearly bumped into Shan Moghen ahead of them when he slowed to ascend a few steps into a wooden pergola beside the path.
The others followed and entered the octagonal space lined with padded benches around a central, shallow brazier. Although there were no windows to stop the night air, the interior of this space was heated and welcoming. They removed their cloaks and settled into the benches.
“This place is beautiful,” Cyann said. “Like a fairy tale.”
Moghen smiled. “A good retreat for today’s purpose, then,” he said cryptically. “But chosen for its solitude. Even the enclave has too many ears.” He ignited a heater under the tea urn that had been left here for them.
“You have something for us,” Anders guessed. “About the alien visitor. Something important enough to delay our departure.”
Moghen nodded. Nova and her team had left for Targon days ago. There they would board a well-equipped interstellar transport for their journey to the Badlands. One of Delphi’s astronomers and three Shantirs complemented the lineup of experts provided by Targon. Anders Devaughn’s research ship had remained on Delphi when the Shantirs asked for the delay.
“To it, then,” he said. “And let’s begin with the fairy tale. Tell us about the Tughan Wai, Cyann.”
She looked from Moghen to Regin and then to Jovan, who seemed equally surprised by the request. “The Tughan?”
“Yes, that,” Moghen confirmed and poured small cups of strong tea for his guests.
Cyann shrugged. “A cautionary tale for children. Or an old legend for those who believe such things. The Tughan Wai is a mythical construct, a god, perhaps, with powers far beyond those of the Shantirs. He is at once the destroyer of worlds and the protector of Delphi. He came into being when the Centauri arrived in Trans-Targon and began to create the Commonwealth. Delphi tried to avoid them, but when it was discovered that some of us,” she gestured at Jovan, “could easily traverse keyholes and we became important to the Union, Delphi felt threatened. The Shantirs created the Tughan Wai as a shield against the invaders as well as the rebel wars that followed.”
“And then?”
“The Tughan turned against them all, murdered thousands and then disappeared.” Cyann’s eyes fell on Anders who was watching her with rapt attention. Something worried the Human; she knew him well enough to read the tension in his shoulders and the pinched look around his eyes. She glanced at Jovan whose face remained carefully free of any expression she could read. What was he hiding? “We all know this story,” she said. “It’s the most basic of myths. You find it in some form or another on most worlds.”
“Do you know how he murdered all those thousands?”
“The khamal wai. A theoretical khamal during which all knowledge is taken from the victim. I’m not too clear on that, but I think it copies engrams and neural connections – neuroscience is not my field. The Shantir using the process gains knowledge as well as personality traits, formative experiences, memories. But this intrusion kills the victim.” Cyann smiled at Nigel. “We don’t tell that part to the children.”
“Uh, I’m glad,” he said, as puzzled as she was by this strange meeting.
“A dangerous and powerful creature, wouldn’t you say,” Moghen said. “Carrying the knowledge and motivations of thousands of people, of many races, good and evil, inside his own, infinite brain.”
“I would,” she replied. “It must be very unhappy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
“I used to think that, when I was a child. To know so much and to have such power must be very lonely. Who would you talk to? Where would you go? And how could you live with yourself, knowing how you gained that knowledge.”
“You didn’t think it was an evil, ah, monster?”
“No,” she said, staring into space. “I know what it’s like to be different. How much more terrible must it be for him? Not just different, but feared, shunned.” She felt Anders hand on her arm. He knew more than any of the others how it felt to be an outsider on Delphi. She met Moghen’s eyes. “If he’s evil you have made him so.”
A long silence followed during which they let Moghen and Regin carry on whatever mental conversation was taking place between them. Cyann sipped her tea and listened to a distant wind chime, the only sound besides the gentle crackle of the embers in the brazier. She felt Jovan’s tranquil presence in sharp contrast to Anders’ tension. Did anything ever worry him?
Shantir Regin finally spoke aloud. “Why does your father hold such contempt for the Shantirate,” she said and, with a nod to Jovan, added, “with some exceptions.”
Cyann nearly spilled her tea when the uncomfortable subject was raised. “I don’t think I can speak for my father...” she tried.
“Please, dear,” Regin said. “Speak freely.”
“His son, my half-brother Kiran, was lost during a battle with the Shri-Lan rebels beca
use of your neglect,” Cyann said in a rush. “He’s blamed you for that ever since.”
Regin nodded. “I suppose that is true,” she said. “But not the whole story.”
Anders cleared his throat. “Shan Regin, I don’t know where this is going, but I have to remind you—”
Regin cut him off with a curt wave of her hand. “You are no longer a commissioned officer, Elder Brother. And none of us here are bound to Air Command rules. Be assured that this is necessary.”
“What is?” Cyann said, worried now.
“We did not just lose his son. Do you really think that someone like Tychon would spend thirty years of his life carrying a grudge because someone made a mistake? Because of an accident?”
“No, I don’t suppose. But it’s not a subject that is talked about. Besides, the entire incident is classified. And that means just that. Neither of my parents would share classified information even with me.”
Regin put her tea cup on the edge of the brazier, taking some time in making sure it would not tip off the edge, once again in conversation with Moghen. While not unusual, especially among Shantirs, excluding others in such an obvious way bordered on impoliteness. Whatever was going on in their heads was either an argument or simply extremely important.
“We are not bound to Air Command classifications,” Moghen said with a look to Anders. “Tychon’s son is the result of some very careful maneuvering on our part. We steered Tychon to accept a mate of our choosing, which fortunately he did, combining some very vital genetic material held by their respective clans. Once his son, Kiran, was born, we continued to work with the child’s hereditary abilities to gift him with the talents of the Shantirs.” He indicated Jovan, who would have received similar training as well as outright manipulation of his brain.
“You wanted him to be a Shantir?” Cyann said, absolutely certain that she did not want Moghen to continue. This sort of careful meddling was not unusual; in fact, Delphian parents routinely sought out the Shantirate to determine their child’s talents and ensure that those abilities developed fully. Certainly, this revelation was no reason to hide away in a private sanctuary.
“No,” Moghen said. “We made him the Tughan Wai.”
Anders groaned. Jovan closed his eyes. Nigel stared, open-mouthed, his tea cup raised halfway to his lips.
Cyann groped for Anders’ hand when the room seemed to lurch sideways, threatening to shake her off her bench. “What?” she gasped.
“He was the end result of hundreds of years of experimentation. Even though we no longer really consider the Commonwealth a threat to us, the trials continued. Many failed. Until Kiran.”
“Why? Who would do such a thing?”
“A misguided few,” Regin said. “Please be assured that none of those involved are practicing members of the sect now. They... they have been retired.”
“But you knew,” Anders said. “And that is what Tychon won’t forgive.”
“We knew,” Moghen looked at his hands as if his blue-tinted fingernails revealed some way to explain all this. “We tried to contain it. When Kiran’s mother died we offered to take the boy into the enclave while Tychon continued his Air Command career. But Danaria’s family interfered and so he removed the child from Delphi to a school on Feyd. That’s when Kiran was taken by the rebel.”
“He was six years old when he disappeared,” Cyann said, barely above a whisper.
“And by that time had killed almost a thousand people. And had become those thousand people. He was no longer a child.”
“Mentally,” Anders said with an uncharacteristic edge in his voice.
Moghen nodded. “He fled the battle by taking an Air Command ship into a keyhole that we didn’t even know existed. Air Command declared the boy lost to the rebel and classified the entire matter.”
“If I may ask a question,” Nigel said, unsure of his place in this group. “Is it true what they say about this... this Tughan?”
Regin gave him a sad smile. “Can he shake mountains and boil seas? Can he take the moons and fling them at our enemies? No. Can he destroy a mind, or a hundred? A thousand at once? Yes. Can he destroy ships in the sky? Easily. Can he affect those laws of physics you hold so dear? To a degree. He is the sum of every Shantir that ever lived. Those people whose collective knowledge he absorbed gave him insight into things we cannot even fathom.”
Nigel whistled. “Damn, no wonder Tychon’s pissed with you people.”
Cyann looked up at Jovan. “But not you.”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t there.”
“But you knew about this,” she said. “You’ve known all these years and said nothing.” She turned to Anders. “And you, too.”
“Cyann, don’t take the road Tychon chose,” Regin said. “Jovan is bound to the Shantirate to keep this secret, even from you. And Anders was an officer at the time as well as a Union ambassador on Delphi.”
Anders nodded. “Even Tychon’s own clan assumes that Kiran is either dead or perhaps grew up among the rebels and is spanning for them. A Delphian’s navigational skill is something they can’t match and the only way to get a Delphian to join the rebel is to raise one of their own. That happened a few times, long ago, which is why you don’t often see Delphians traveling without an armed escort.”
Cyann nodded. “That’s what I was led to believe.”
Regin extended her hands to encompass them all. “Please don’t blame Tychon and Nova for their secrecy or, for that matter, the Shantirate. Knowledge of this cannot leave this place.”
Nigel frowned. “So why tell us now?”
The Shantir paused to pick up her cup which she studied for a moment as if in appreciation of the pattern painted on it. “Because the writings that the alien brought to us are Delphian.”
“What?” Anders exclaimed. “We spent hours trying to decode those.”
Moghen smiled. “Yet Jovan recognized them. It is a Shantir code, known only by the elders. I’m please to find that it is still unbreakable.”
Jovan winked at Cyann. “Before you jump at me I have to say that I wasn’t able to read it. It’s that tough. I just thought some of the forms looked familiar.”
“So what do they say?”
Moghen and Regin exchanged a glance. “They are fairly incomprehensible, I’m afraid. Talk about distant lands, some mathematics we don’t understand, coordinates that we do know. And, most importantly, your name, Cyann.”
She blinked. “My name?”
“In a way. It mentions ‘Tychon’s girl child’ in two locations.”
“Whoa,” Nigel said quietly.
“I was about to say that,” Anders whispered.
Cyann looked around the circle of shadowed faces before returning her gaze to Moghen. “I think it’s time you presented your hypothesis, Elder Brother.”
“Yes, it is,” he said crisply. “Your brother, Kiran, whom we call the Tughan Wai, sent the meteorite this way, hoping to reach you. Perhaps to warn us of the arrival of the Genesis Cloud. He would have the ability to guide that pod here, even through sub-space. Because of you.”
“Me?”
“We believe that Kiran is that voice you’ve grown up with,” Regin said. “I’ve suspected that for a while but haven’t been able to convince my brethren. Not until now. He’s been trying to reach you. And he’s used your connection like a homing beacon to bring the alien pod here. Not to Delphi. But to Sola moon where he knew it would do no harm to us.”
“How?” Anders said. “He doesn’t even know Cyann exists. He barely knew Nova when he disappeared.”
Cyann nodded. “But he changed her, didn’t he? It wasn’t some radiation accident or classified rebel weapon that did that to her. He made her a GenMod. He made it possible for me to be born.”
“That is the best likelihood. She did mention to me, just after you were born, that Kiran told her to give Tychon a daughter, if she chose. It was a confusing time for all of us. There is no other explanation for the genetic transforma
tion that had to take place. He had as much a part of your creation as your father did.”
Jovan leaned close to her. “Are you all right?” he said softly. “This is all a bit much.”
She pulled away and immediately regretted that when she saw the brief flash of hurt on his face, as quickly hidden as it had appeared. She stood up and walked to the railing overlooking the snow-blanketed gardens. “All these years of wondering, thinking I might be going mad, not knowing who or what I was, and none of you thought to tell me any of this?”
“We had no way to be sure,” Moghen said.
She turned back to them but her eyes were on Jovan. “What else haven’t you told me?”
It seemed that he was about to speak but then, with a look to Regin, he just shrugged.
“Cyann,” Regin said gently. “We knew you were special. But to us you were always just Tychon’s daughter. Because of Kiran, we wanted you to have every advantage that the enclave can offer to a pupil, Shantir or not. Fully Delphian or not. You grew into an accomplished scientist, every bit as gifted as your father, in your own way, and blessed with your mother’s delightful mind-set.”
“And good looks,” Anders tried to lighten the moment.
“Yes, you are lovely,” Regin said. “But I’m not saying these things to flatter you. We had hoped that none of what happened would ever touch you, even as we watched out for any mark that Kiran might have left on you, or Shan Nova.”
“Until the voice,” Cyann said.
“Yes, although our main concern was that, because of your mixed parentage, you were simply susceptible to other people’s mental exchanges. Or emotions. I started to keep an account of these incidences. Or at least the ones you shared with me. It seems to me that the voice comes to you when you are upset or anxious.”
Cyann nodded.
“And so you went to Tava to boost your range.”
