Hoven Quest

by Michelle Levigne

  Right in that moment, I decided he had failed in his attempt. I felt more tense, talking in front of the whole team, than I would have if we had been speaking privately in a cramped little sleeping alcove.

  “The Gen'gineers are as bad nowadays for the safety of the Commonwealth as the Set'ri and the different branches of their belief were for First Civ,” I said. What else was there to say?

  “I'd be interested in reading your research files,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself more than me. “You might just have information that we haven't found."

  “What exactly do you want from us, Commander?” Regina didn't move over next to me, but the atmosphere changed slightly, as if she had put herself between me and the Scout commander, and it affected the energy in the air.

  “We took down a Gen'gineer base about four lunars ago, Commonwealth Standard time. It's been a treasure trove of information, but digging into their files and decoding their cipher makes it a slow go. And what does that have to do with you?” he added with a smile. “Ten days ago, we opened and deciphered a file on your program, and instructions for local Gen'gineer hive cells to watch Hoven Quest and follow up every possibility."

  “More lunatics, thinking Hoveni are still alive, if they were ever real,” Manken groaned. He closed his eyes and slouched in the lounger chair in the far corner of the room. “Please tell me we don't have to worry about them capturing us and torturing us for information?"

  “What could you tell them that would do any good?” Niita asked with a grin.

  “I'm not worried about the peripheral people on your team,” the commander said, never taking his gaze off me as he spoke. “But yes, even though it wasn't stated outright, we're sure the Gen'gineers think they can obtain information on Hoveni whereabouts from the program and from your team. Especially you, Mistress Fyx. You've managed to keep it low-key, but if the Scout Corps learned without any difficulty that you're an expert on Hovenu studies, the Gen'gineers know it now, too."

  “Wouldn't it be easier to ransack the museums of Gemar and read all the scholarly dissertations that are available to the public, instead of torturing me?” I had to ask. My joke fell flat. If it was a joke. I needed to say something to snap the thick, somber mood. Like one of my friends from school used to say, If you can't say something intelligent, say something smart.

  “We're going to set up safeguards to make sure that doesn't happen. And if you don't mind ... well, we're going to use the show as a trap to catch all the Gen'gineers who escaped our raid and might come here. First thing we need to do is track down anyone who has joined the production staff within the last ten Standard months.” He looked around the cabin, meeting the eyes of each person of my team. “Is everyone here an original staff member, or has anyone been replaced? Specifically, after someone had to leave work because of family emergencies or accidents or even deaths?"

  I really wanted to laugh when he suggested that we might have been infiltrated by Gen'gineers. Scouts handled security for a living—Hoveni lived security, night and day, because it was our lives, not just a job. I couldn't tell Commander Cole that, though. I appreciated his concern, and his priorities of weeding trouble out of our organization before he looked outward at anyone approaching us.

  “Everyone here is a long-time employee of the Network, and original to the team,” Regina said, before I could gather my thoughts enough to answer.

  “Good. That's very good.” He smiled, losing a few years of seriousness in the process. I tried to imagine what he had looked like when he was a young man, in the days the Scout Corps began. Under those scars and the wear of years, he had been a handsome, strong boy with a lot of life, passion, and dedication to justice and peace.

  “Do you believe Hoveni are real?” I had to ask. “Or are you just here because the Gen'gineers are interested in us?"

  “Mistress Fyx...” His grin widened. “I missed out on the ruckus when Captain Lorian died and the Gen'gineers captured Rhi, but I've heard enough about Gemar and Hovenu history, it's more than a job to me.” He laughed when a few of us gave him confused looks.

  “Who is Rhi? Captain Lorian—that's the Leaper captain who died in the sabotage, right?” I wished I had spent more time on Scout history, and wondered if I could add a Scout or two as friends to Meruk. Would that be too convenient for getting him out of trouble, or add more depth to the storyline?

  I wished, just for a few seconds while Gorgi visibly gathered his thoughts, that we could trust Scouts to help the Hoveni mission. Could we turn to this intense, strong, honorable man and trust him with the truth? That was a moot point right now, because such a revelation needed privacy. I certainly wasn't going to tell anyone on my team about the Hoveni being real. I enjoyed being with them, and I trusted them, but not that much. And besides, right now it was only my original, gut reaction to this man. Uncle Max and a dozen others would have to meet him and talk with him before anyone could decide to reveal such a dangerous truth.

  “Rhi is Rhiann, Captain Lorian's younger daughter. She was fascinated with the whole phenomenon when she was here, and over the years, she's kept up with the archeological finds, as a hobby."

  “You seem somewhat familiar with her,” Regina observed.

  “Should be. She married Bain Kern, my best friend, and helped us get the Scouts born just the way we dreamed when we were boys.” He sighed, and that wistful light in his eyes turned his smile bitter sweet. “And she's my wife's sister.” He nodded when a couple of us who were more familiar with the history of that incident—those responsible for all information on Gen'gineers for the sake of the story line—sat up or looked more alert.

  “Is the Estal'es'cai here?” Niita asked. “I've heard Leapers work with the Scout Corps. Your wife's ship brought you here, yes? It must hurt something awful for Captain Herin to come back here."

  “The Estal'es'cai and her crew have been missing for eight years,” Commander Cole said. He stood up and stalked across the room to the alcove where he had stored his one piece of luggage, a hard-sided carry-on. “Rhi believes Hoveni could exist. There were several odd incidents during the investigation that were never explained, and she's always insisted that Hoveni helped her and Bain. What I need to know is if any of you, especially the experts—” Again, he pinned me with that piercing gaze, and it was all business now, no more emotions. “If anyone of you believes there's a chance Hoveni do still live on Gemar and might be in danger from the Gen'gineers."

  Regina met my gaze and nodded slowly, once. Then she turned to Commander Cole and said, “After all we've invested in this show, Commander, it's hard to separate what we know from what we want and what we hope for. We believe Hoveni are real, but is it because we love what we're doing, or because we have enough facts?"

  “So you do believe, but you don't think anyone will take you seriously if you admit it in public.” He nodded. “Fair enough."

  He put his carry-on down on the table bolted to the floor and flipped it open. It contained the most sophisticated, compact recording and scanning equipment I had ever seen. Which was saying something, since FAN believed in using the best and most up-to-date equipment available anywhere.

  * * * *

  By the time we reached our station and the Network's private flitter-bus had come to fetch us, Commander Cole had a basic outline of what we knew about Hoveni and Set'ri, and we had recalled as many odd incidents over the last few lunars of scouting as we could remember. Especially the incidents that weren't explained or blamed on someone in the area. Who knew how long the Gen'gineers had actually been able to watch us? Some of the incidents, I thought, could be blamed on lost Hoveni trying to get close to us. Most of those did have explanations, but we certainly couldn't tell the non-Hoveni in the team.

  It was night by the time we reached the Network building and everyone separated to go to their individual homes, after stashing our equipment and supplies in our various offices. I contacted Uncle and left a message that I would be bringing Comm
ander Cole home with me. On a hunch, I tried to contact Chiara. She wasn't home or in her office, either. I hoped they were out together. Of course, if neither one came home or linked into a communication channel for a long time, what was I going to do about entertaining the Commander?

  He entertained me, actually. I had read a dry, short journal report in my great-grandmother's handwriting on her meeting with the prototype Scouts and Tribunal Lin Fieran, during those tense days of investigation. Great-grandmother Fyx belonged to the secession party. Not that she wanted Gemar to leave the Commonwealth, but the rabid idiots who thought the Conclave offered more to our planet wouldn't listen to anyone who said they wanted the status quo to remain. She had been charmed by the serious, dedicated young people, admired the Spacer captain who had dedicated herself to finding the truth, and had sent word out to the very loose network of Hoveni in the city to keep an eye on them, and protect them. Gen'gineers had been on the loose back then. My grandmother and her suitor were on the far side of the planet, and weren't part of the operation. More than a dozen Gen'gineers fell into Hoveni hands, and vanished.

  I couldn't tell Commander Cole any of this. As I listened to him tell the story of those sad, painful and exciting days through the words of Commander Kern and his wife, I wished that I could. I had the bare bones of a script about that adventure in my head—yes, and when would I have the time to write it?—by the time Uncle and Chiara arrived.

  Something about their reaction to the news made me think they weren't really surprised. Certainly they were gratified at the Scout Corps’ involvement. Either someone else on the team had warned them, or things were far more serious than they had revealed to me and they knew the situation had grown bad enough to gain the attention of the authorities in the Commonwealth.

  Uncle made arrangements with Commander Cole to meet at the Network building in the morning, to go over the standard security procedures used by FAN for all employees. When he invited the commander to stay with us, since we had a dozen guest rooms, I got another surprise for the evening.

  “Thanks, but my son and his team already have quarters arranged. I wouldn't be surprised if they managed to infiltrate FAN headquarters just to see how tight your security really is."

  “Kendle,” Uncle said with that amused gleam in his eyes, “remind me to propose a three-part series about the Scout Corps."

  Commander Cole took it as the joke and teasing threat I knew Uncle intended. They shook hands when the robot flitter arrived, and then the commander was gone.

  So, Commander Cole wasn't actually leading the team that would investigate the Gen'gineer threat to Gemar and our program, but he had used his prerogative to become involved and take point. He met us, watched over us on the journey home, and got a head start on the information necessary. I liked him. So did Uncle and Chiara, when I repeated what I could remember of the trip and all we had discussed.

  “It's going to be very interesting working with the Scouts,” Uncle mused when I had finished.

  “They're special. Most of them were recruited from the Spacers and the Order and even some Leapers who didn't inherit the Leap talent,” Chiara added. “An extra tweak in the genetic code, so to speak. Which could explain why they're so dedicated to taking apart the Gen'gineers. It's personal for them."

  “More than personal for Commander Cole.” I related to them the little bits of information the commander had related to me, about his sister-by-law and her husband being here on Gemar during the Nova Corona crisis, and that the daughter of the murdered captain was his wife. And now missing.

  I could understand a little what drove Commander Cole. At least, I thought so. I had lost so much, and I now had something vital to devote all my talents and strength and training to. People depended on me, just like they depended on him and the warriors he had helped train.

  “It's going to be interesting, at the very least, for the next few lunars,” Uncle said. “I don't know if the presence of the Scouts will hinder or help our operations."

  “Maybe Hoveni will have to resort to coming to us in animal shape to get past our guards,” I commented, trying to joke. Uncle didn't take it as a joke. Chiara looked thoughtful.

  “How do we get the word out?” she mused.

  “I'm too tired for all this.” I got up and took a step toward the door. “"Could we handle the rest of the debriefing tomorrow?"

  “The answer to the question you're trying not to ask is yes,” Uncle said. “Yes, we believe it is Set'ri who are causing troubles for our people, not over-zealous Gen'gineers."

  “I don't suppose it's too much to pray Fi'in they'll start in-fighting and cancel each other out?"

  “Bigger miracles have happened in the history of our people and the Commonwealth,” Chiara said. She got up and moved over to hug me, which surprised and pleased me, and earned us a strange look from Uncle. “I'll see you in the morning. We're both very glad to have you back home, even though it would never occur to Amaxus to tell you so."

  He snorted and shook his head. When I left the room, they were smiling at each other. Amused and aggravated expressions. I decided I was right. Uncle Max and Chiara would be very good for each other. Now, how to wake him up to his need for Chiara?

  * * * *

  Between the long Tube ride and my body being still on Gadara continent time, and staying up so late to talk, I slept until nearly noon. When I stumbled down the hall and downstairs in search of something to fill the aching empty pit that used to be my stomach, I found Chiara waiting with breakfast. I could have hugged her then, except I felt distinctly uncomfortable with bed-head, wearing my grubby sleepshirt and my mouth feeling and tasting like my boot liners.

  Chiara brought me up-to-date on the recording team, following in our footsteps across Gadara now. She had pictures. Lots of pictures. Of the team and especially of Kel. Seeing him laughing with the makeup, costume, and special effects people made him very different from the tormented and hopeful Meruk that I saw in the Tri-V pit twice a quarter. He was Kel, a friend I only knew from com-conferences and had only seen face-to-face twice since Uncle and I discovered him at Megavissy Carnival.

  I had the usual dozen or so letters from school friends who wanted to know when I would be home again so we could spend time together. Part of me wondered if they really cared about me, or they wanted to create an opportunity to meet Kel. As if I could bring him to any of their parties or social events. How could I, when it seemed fate conspired to keep me and Kel Brent on different continents? If I had even slightly active hormones, I would have been frustrated.

  Chiara and I talked about business all through breakfast, which was really my lunch, then she settled down in Uncle Max's office to get some work done while I staggered upstairs to wash and get dressed for the day. I decided I had earned some time soaking in the tub and let the jets massage away all the aches from sleeping crooked. It was funny, and a little disconcerting, to realize I wasn't used to my own bed anymore.

  I took my time dressing up, choosing clothes I hadn't seen for lunars. I was partially tempted to toss every article of clothing I had taken on my travels, and buy a whole new wardrobe, because I was so sick of the limited selection. The next trip, I promised myself to cut back on the common sense and take twice as many clothes and twice as much luggage.

  Chiara was in the kitchen, making herself a pot of tea, when I finally came down. She offered me a cup with a gesture and I nodded. Without needing to consult, we ended up on the deck out back. It was nice to sit and sip and feel so comfortable in the silence together. For a while, anyway. I made a wild guess, which actually wasn't so wild, and asked the question that had been pestering me.

  “Any progress on breaking through to Uncle?"

  She laughed and slouched a little in the lounging chair. Her smile faded when she shook her head.

  “Short of throwing myself at him, I don't know what to do. The man is oblivious."

  “He is rather single-minded,” I offered. “Maybe he's so focused on
our mission, it would never occur to him that any woman would be interested."

  “Or maybe it's so far beyond his comprehension that I would make a good lifemate...” Chiara shook her head again. “Listen to me! I'm so pathetic I have to laugh at myself. I swear, things have been switched around between us and I'm getting fixated on him, instead of him on me."

  “Is it possible?” I had to ask.

  “Unfortunately ... yes.” She sipped at her tea and frowned, concentrating, on her bare feet with her rainbow-painted toenails. “It can happen in women who have never been involved with a man. The drive to have children starts taking over."

  “Do you want children, or is it just a hormonal thing?” I bit my lip at the thought of my hormones making me miserable someday, with no man of the Hoveni to catch my interest.

  “Yes, most definitely.” She laughed and slid down a little lower in the lounger. “I thought I put aside all hopes of having children. Why put them through the misery and fears and sense of being a freak that I went through? And before you ask, no, I didn't decide to hunt down your uncle after I decided I wanted children."

  “I didn't think that,” I hurried to say.

  “I decided I wanted them after I decided I wanted him. Silly, isn't it?"

  “Maybe it's love,” I offered. “It has to be love, to want to have a man's children."

  Total silence rang through the forest clearing behind the house. Chiara sat very still and I counted my heartbeats. At forty-two, she sat up and looked over at me.

  “That's one of the wisest things I've ever heard anyone say,” she murmured.

  “I don't know how wise it is if it doesn't do us any good right now with the problem of Uncle Max. Will he ever break his fixation on Shandra, or is he just too busy to notice anything? Does he even know you're a woman?"

  Chiara laughed and sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her stomach, as if laughing gave her a bellyache. When I demanded to know what was so funny, she just laughed harder. It took a while for her to quiet down, and then wipe her eyes and catch her breath.