by Alma Boykin
The Trader in Rada inquired, “I see what I would gain from your offer, but what about you, sir?” She felt a little bad about asking, but only a very little. Bargains always had two sides.
“I gain a willing student. And I prevent you from driving other people insane by projecting your emotions, people who might end up in my care,” his eyes bored into her. Then he relaxed, “And I irritate someone who deserves it.” That she could understand, since she’d done the like more than once.
Her mind raced. Part of her wanted to accept his offer immediately, to cling to it as the best way out of her predicament. But it seemed so good that Rada’s guard slammed up. There had to be a trick, something else. “I am very tempted to accept your offer, sir,” she admitted. “However, might I have a little time to think over matters? You must understand,” and she gave an apologetic smile, “rushing something this major...” and her voice trailed off.
The equine sat back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. “Of course! You would be a fool to leap in without considering everything involved.” She relaxed a bit at his approbation. “I’ll have Richard show you to the guest house. It’s quiet, away from distractions, and you won’t be disturbed. I’ll come by before supper to see what your decision is.” He stood and she mirrored him.
“Thank you sir. I’m very grateful.” The spotted canine opened the office door, and she left her host at his desk.
After Rada’s departure, a coppery-colored reptile appeared and took the seat she had vacated. “Any news?” his master inquired.
The slender lizard nodded and slid a printout onto the desk. “Here are the details about the Elders Council’s plans for Miss Ni Drako, Master Thomas. I can see why she’s a bit nervous,” he hissed.
“As usual, Marcus, your power of understatement comes to the fore,” the equine said, his tone as dry as dust. “I believe the correct descriptor is ‘petrified’ and only in part because of her conditioning.” He skimmed the notes, an expression of distaste on his expressive features. “One of the more unpleasant groups, I must say. How close were they?”
“Oh, a few weeks probably. Maybe more, but not many.” The reptile crossed his legs at the knee and twirled his tail as his master shook his head. “For her sake I hope she accepts. She seems like a decent sort,” Marcus offered.
“She is and should improve as she ages, if she can stay alive long enough to age.” Master Thomas stood up. “Is dinner ready?”
“Yes, sir. The first tomatoes and baby peas are ripe,” and the man smiled at his assistant’s words.
Master Thomas took good care of his cottage guests, Rada discovered. She found what appeared to be a geothermal hot pool near the cottage and dove in. She soaked and thought, then returned to the guesthouse and thought some more. Richard had told her to help herself to the drinks and nibbles that she found, but she preferred to drink water and to eat from her own stash of dried meat. She fluffed her chin-length brown-black hair and pondered the morning’s offer as she sat on the small porch at the back of the tiny house and stared at the rain.
Telling tales of her adventures would be easy! Getting me to shut up might be more of a problem, given how much I like entertaining an audience, she snorted at herself, mouth quirking into a grin. Her failures? Ouch, but she had plenty of those as well. But as she thought about it, the matter grew more complicated. Could she really tell someone everything? What she saw, thought, did, tried to do? There were a number of things she was not proud of having said and done, some she would just as soon forget forever. Given her temper and career, she had no doubts about having more regrettable moments in the future. She sifted and sorted, running things through her mind like Lieutenant Voltak running his worry beads.
Thinking back, she remembered someone telling her about how some religions required believers to tell their priests about what they had done, at regular intervals, if the person wanted to stay in the church. What was it called? Oh, “confession,” that was it. One of the supply sergeants had belonged to one of those faiths, and she had sworn that confession helped her stay out of trouble and deal with the aftermath of things. That’s something to consider, given how much trouble I manage to attract. And sooner or later all the people I’ve killed in combat are going to come back and haunt me, if the tales are true.
Actually, of the two requirements, celibacy required less consideration. Damn it anyway, it was sex that got me into this fucking mess. A twisted, unpleasant expression crossed her face as she remembered the scene fifty or so years before. The journeyman had been charming, flattering, not bad looking at all, and interested in her as a woman, one of the few males or females who had been. It was so unusual that she hadn’t thought or questioned why he was interested, or asked permission, or anything. She’d snuck away from her quarters on the ship and met him in a storage area. He’d obviously possessed the experience she lacked and had roused her body in ways that until that point she’d only imagined, kindling hot passion. Then it happened: she reverted to her true shape.
In her desire, she’d abandoned herself and her self-control. The young man recoiled, lust changing to disgust at the sight of what she’d become, and cursed her before running from the storage space and straight to tarqi da Kavalle’s Elders. Rada, or Rakoji as she had then been called, had also run. She was still running.
Rada doubted that she would ever fall in love or want to take a life-long mate, and she’d been around the galaxy enough to realize that the majority of people interested in bedding her either wanted to try out a novelty or to indulge some kind of fantasy. They didn’t see Rada the person, just the “exotic.” She knew already that she could not produce offspring without the aid of a great deal of expensive technology, no matter what species the other chromosomal material came from, so that was not a factor worth considering. And given her career choice, she probably wasn’t going to live long enough to regret not having had a lover. Rada had also watched the results of partnerships that worked and those that didn’t. After all, my parents were in love and look what happened there! Oops big time. No, telling her hormones to take a cold soak would not be that hard. Probably be safer, in the long run.
And there was this: did she have a choice if she wanted to live? My back is against the proverbial wall. There is a limit to how long and how far I can run now that the Elders are willing to look this far back in time for me, and the Dark Hart is not exactly inconspicuous. Nothing else looks like a Wanderer-made timeship. But here was an offer of respite, training, and hope. Rada needed some kind of mentor if she was going to advance beyond junior officer rank and thus far had not found one within the Komets, another reason for her to move on anyway. But Master Thomas could teach her the social manners she’d need to advance in the ranks, as well as helping her tame her Gifts and protecting her from the Traders. Her instincts told her to trust him. Damn it, my choices are starvation, suicide, or apprenticing to a member of a species that even the Traders’ don’t have in their databases. Not that the lack of information surprised her, not now. And if he wants to piss off the Traders by helping me, then I’m all for it.
As he had said, Master Thomas arrived at the cottage just after a damp sunset. Rada met him at the foot of the low steps and he observed her carefully, his optimism balanced by what he knew of the young woman’s past. “Have you reached a decision, Miss Ni Drako?”
“Yes sir. I accept your offer and your requirements.” She managed to keep her voice steady, although her hands trembled a bit.
He smiled, happy and relieved for her sake, and pleased at the opportunity standing before him. “Excellent! Then come, join me for supper and welcome to my household.” He offered her his arm, and since he had an umbrella, she accepted. They strolled though the damp, fragrant grounds and she caught a hint of his scent, a bit earthy with warm undertones and a touch of must like an old book, and perhaps a hint of something like a metal, or sulfur.
After another good supper, the pair went not to his office, but to a smoking room
cum library. A small fire burned in the fireplace and Rada smiled at the anachronism of a genuine wood-burning fireplace in a room with data readers, several types of computer file and holo decompressors, as well as hundreds of obviously valuable real books. Her new mentor busied himself at a small bar as she browsed the shelves, amazed by the sheer variety of volumes.
“Miss Ni Drako?” he called quietly, bringing her back to herself.
“Rada, please sir,” and she stepped over to where he stood, a large metal cup in his hand.
“Among my people, a contract is formalized by sharing a cup. Usually of wine, but I prefer not to have a cloudy mind, so this is kiworange nectar,” he explained, holding out the goblet so she could see and sniff for herself. Then he drew himself to his full height, plegded, “Contract made, promises binding,” and drank. In turn Rada accepted the heavy cup and repeated “Contract made, promises binding.” She savored the complicated flavors in the juice and her new mentor smiled at her pleasure. He poured the rest into two glasses, which they finished as they discussed her near future.
“I believe that the first thing we need to do is break your conditioning,” the equine warned. “I suspect it will not be easy for either of us.”
“Ah, which specific part of my conditioning? There are several layers that I’ve found, and some are useful. A few are very necessary.” She could not fully mesh with the symbiote in the Dark Hart without some of the controls programmed into her mind. Her battlefield communication conditioning and language adaptations had to stay.
“The ones that drive you into terror when someone mentions the Elders Council.” He said the words not in Trader but in Wanderer. Rada collapsed as pure unreasoning terror, intertwined with an overwhelming need to obey and submit, slammed through her mind and body, triggering a full flight response. Master Thomas managed to catch her as she began dropping to the floor, almost losing control of her bowels.
«Rada Ni Drako, lower your shields,» his voice whispered, cutting through the panic and compulsion. «Let me help you.»
Rada closed her eyes and nodded, feeling him wrapping his arms around her as he knelt, lowering her to the floor. «They are down.»
Master Thomas’s mind engulfed hers, surrounding it and helping her separate herself from the fear response. «There, do you see it,» and Rada “saw” what he meant. The trigger ran from the speech center in her mind through the emotional “core” and deep into her adrenal system. «Follow it, see just where it leads when I tap the trigger,» the tenor voice commanded.
Heart already pounding, Rada waited, bracing as Master Thomas repeated the key phrase. Pain flowed through her mind as she turned in on herself, following through his “eyes”. «Blessed Bookkeeper, they tied it in so tight! How can I break that?»
«You can not, Miss Ni Drako. We can, together, but it will cost you pain and energy.» He showed her what he intended to do and what she needed to do, and she sensed concern, irritation at the Traders, and a cold curiosity and fascination with the extent of the problem.
“Do it,” she hissed, fangs clenched, attention turning inward. Rada centered her attention on the core, the red-black center that defined her. As her mentor gathered himself, insinuating his mind fully into hers, Rada locked everything onto one word: her name. The name her dam had given her, her kitling name, the one piece of her that the Traders had never found.
Shahkalt náSsalha, Master Thomas repeated for a third time. As he did, and as the conditioning triggered, he ripped the compulsion away, thread by tendril. Pure fire followed his mental touch, building to absolute agony as he pulled the imprint out of Rada’s empathic center. Past screaming, Rada repeated her name, clinging to it as her mind and body short-circuited, throwing her into darkness.
Rada awoke, not in the library but in a very comfortable bed. “Miss Ni Drako, look at me.” She blinked, grateful for the very dim light, and turned her throbbing head towards the voice. Master Thomas sipped from his cup before inquiring, “how do you feel?”
“I hurt.”
“For that I am sorry, little one. You are, or rather will be once you are trained, much stronger than I thought, and I erred in assuming that the conditioning remained surficial rather than integral.” Rada blinked at him, understanding the words but not comprehending their meaning. He set his glass down and took her hand, stroking it with cool hooved digits. “You will understand later. Suffice it to say that I did not intend to hurt you, and that you are now free of that compulsion.”
Rada swallowed, braced herself, and raised her shields. Pain flared then faded and she winced. Then she froze, probing something in her mind. “I can feel the ‘Hart. The fuzz is gone.”
Silver eyebrows rose over black eyes and Master Thomas sat back. “Indeed. Which suggests that the Traders blocked you for some reason.” He picked up his glass, adding, “Or more likely the blockage was an unintended consequence of the development of your emotional power, meaning that their very attempt to control you backfired by reducing your usefulness to them.”
Rada struggled to sit up, noticing as she did that she now wore a soft white bed dress. “That sounds like them, sir. They seem to have a gift.” She licked painfully dry lips. “May I have something to drink? Or do I need to wait?”
“No, no, you can certainly drink,” and he handed a glass to her. “It is the rest of the fruit juice, no additives or surprises.”
Rada finished the glass. She managed to set it down on the small side table before sinking back into a deep, entirely natural sleep. Master Thomas continued watching her, making notes until his own fatigue drove him to his sleeping chamber. “Yes, Miss Ni Drako will be a very promising student,” he smiled to himself, already revising his plans.
* * *
Several centuries later they sat in his office after she returned from one of her stays on Drakon IV and she asked him, “Why?”
He waited quite a while to answer her question. In fact, four days passed before he replied. She’d taken her customary place on a cushion beside his chair in the solarium, and Master Thomas stroked her hair, as was his wont on stormy evenings while he watched lightning cut the darkness. The equine sighed, “I could not bear to see your talents and person wasted, lost to bitterness and foolish pride, little one. It would have been criminal to let you be destroyed without attempting to help you save yourself.”
She accepted his answer, although by then Rada knew that there was more. He had no family, no children of his own. He’d taken new researchers and assistants, but no other pupils or protégés during the time she’d been with him, instead focusing his efforts on her. Rada owed him an enormous debt, one she would be spending the rest of her life repaying. He accepted no thanks, smiling and changing the subject when she tried. And even when she pled with him, begging on her knees, he refused to release her from her promises.
Strictly Business
Rada Ni Drako sighed with quiet contentment as she sat back against the lush upholstery and studied the people of various species coming and going through the hotel’s palatial lobby. Even better, while enjoying her long-overdue leave from the Adamantine Division’s scouts, Rada had managed a bit of trading on the side. Heavily disguised, of course, but a few quick haggles here and there gave her more spending money than she’d started with. I could get used to this she decided, contemplating a brief fantasy of gourmet food, soft dresses and scarves, and being waited on hand and foot by good looking, attentive young males. Ah well, reality sucks like a singularity. But I have three more pure play days. She considered what to do next.
As she reviewed her options, Rada watched a small True-dragon enter the lobby. The reptile glanced around with a proprietary air, as if claiming the elegant surroundings. The True-dragon’s scales shimmered a lovely, slightly iridescent blue and silver, and the reptile walked gracefully to the reception desk, rising onto its hind legs to see over the travertine and ebony top. Ni Drako heard a dim murmur of mind talk on the other side of her shields and the insect on duty replied
“No, Ma’am, no messages.” Another murmur, and the True-dragon turned and crossed the thickly carpeted lobby, then entered the atrium and vanished from sight behind a mass of crimson and white, crown-like protea blossoms. Rada turned back to the lobby and mused, I wonder if she is a dwarf. I’ve never seen a True-dragon less than three meters long.
Rada got up and went her own way, having decided to risk a session in the resort’s spa. It was highly unlikely that anyone looking for her would take time to visit that part of the resort, and she really wanted a good massage. As she wandered back through the tastefully elegant corridors to her room, she passed two of the resort’s gentlemen escorts. They nodded to her and she smiled back, but did nothing more than admire the scenery. Part of her wanted to do a u-turn and reserve company for the evening, but the rest of her brain quashed the impulse. Too risky! And even as well as you’ve done, you can’t afford it. Alas, the working part of her was correct on both counts, although the fun part of her brain gave her common sense a raspberry.
The spa met Rada’s high standards easily. Since the resort catered to many species, there were hot sand baths, mud soaks, waters of varying temperatures, and all sorts of luxurious services for the scaled, feathered, furred, and otherwise. The receptionist hadn’t batted any of her eyes when something resembling a meter-long, multi-colored roach checked in ahead of Rada. Well accustomed to seeing all sorts of people, the Wanderer had just shrugged and waited her turn. After all, her direct superior was a good-sized reptile and her commanding officer could be described as a bi-pedal raptor! Two hours later, a soak in hot, scented water, followed by a complete nose to tail-tip massage, fur-fluff, and facial left the mercenary relaxed as she departed the quiet, subtly decorated salon.
