by D L Frizzell
“You’re paranoid,” Hathan-Fen said, sitting beside Redland and folding her arms. Though her voice was firm, her eyes told me she wasn’t so sure.
“You should be, too,” Redland said, and then looked at me. “What about you, kid?”
The answer was easy. Telling it to the person I hated most in the world was hard. “Paranoia is part of the job,” I said glibly.
“Don’t underestimate these T’Neth,” Redland said. “The only way they’re gonna let us live is if we castrate ourselves and bow down to ‘em. Speakin’ for myself, that ain’t gonna happen.” He let the meaning sink in for a moment, and then added, “Keep your eyes open for weaknesses, people. I guarantee we’re going to need an edge before too long.”
“I thought we came here to get Kate to safety,” I said.
“I don’t give a damn about her,” Redland hissed, “except where she can help us.”
Hathan-Fen turned to Redland, “Marshal Redland, you are devoid of chivalry,” she deadpanned. “You wouldn’t need castrating because no person in their right mind would breed with you.”
I’d rarely heard Hathan-Fen make such a less-than-professional comment before. Neither had Redland, apparently, because he hesitated a moment before recovering.
“I don’t give a damn about anything but survival,” Redland said. “I’m talkin’ about every damn human on the planet here.”
“You sure sacrifice a lot of people to save people,” I said. “I wonder…are you really just trying to save yourself?”
“Of course, I’m tryin’ to save myself,” Redland sneered. “That’s because I’m the best man for the job. You don’t hand off the fate of the world to a second-rate operator.”
Now I know where the rest of us stand in Redland’s estimation, I thought. Not that I was surprised. The looks on Norio’s and Hathan-Fen’s face told me they got the same impression. However, I had to admit to myself that Redland was, if not right, at least properly concerned about T’Neth ambitions.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The train ride was brief. Once our seats stood us up and dissolved back into the floor, we waited for Engineer Seku to decide where the door would be this time. To everybody’s surprise, she opened a door at each end. I don’t think she did this as a concession. After watching her in action, it seemed that her experience as an engineer prompted her to constantly examine her designs for practical improvements. That’s what I believe she did in this case, anyway. She chose a more economical way for her passengers to leave the train without crowding around a single entrance.
We exited the train into a station about the same size as the one at Dolina, but this one looked far different. The ambassador had not yet arrived, which vexed Mayford less than I expected it to. Seku moved to a far corner of the station and took up a position there, folding her hands as if awaiting instructions.
We stood by the train awkwardly for a few minutes, and eventually spread out to check our surroundings. I had expected the station to have a bland, sterile appearance like the train, or at least be constructed from the same reinforced concrete we’d seen earlier, but it couldn’t have been more different. My first impression was that we had arrived at the train station of some frontier waystop, not a T’Neth stronghold. Yellow flames danced within lamps spaced around the station’s perimeter. A boardwalk lined the ground from end to end, boxed in with ice walls to our left and right, as well as the ceiling overhead. At the far end of the station was what looked like the front of the saloon I visited in Edgewood as a young deputy, except that this one had opaque windows and no door. The open area at the center of the boardwalk was ornately decorated, with objects I had never seen before. I took a few steps past the threshold to test the boardwalk. The wood planks gave way slightly, squeaking with the sound of loose nails.
“Looks like they rolled out the red carpet for us,” Redland said appreciatively, and with a strange lack of suspicion. Is this really what he considered red carpet treatment? I wondered.
“They’ve changed the station since my visit,” Mayford commented. “I like it.”
“It’s a real taste of home,” I said sardonically. The others nodded as if I was serious, and that they agreed with me.
The boardwalk was reminiscent of a town plaza, where the locals set out their best Founders’ artifacts. Townsfolk did this in the hope that such items would give the town a bit of flair for visitors to marvel at. Such timeworn objects were generally useless, but they did supply a sense of self for the townsfolk and a taste of local character that visitors would enjoy. Several wooden tables stood in the middle of this T’Neth presentation, all stained and oiled, holding objects that I could only guess were thousands of years old. One was a vase made of clay. Another was some kind of loom, or at least it resembled the looms I had seen elsewhere. I had no clue what the other objects might be. Each was astoundingly ornate, made with combinations of wood and stone that appeared as though they had some mechanical purpose as well as a ceremonial function. Looking around, I was sure this was all just a show put on for our benefit, but the others seemed to fall for it well enough.
Along the back of the plaza, lined up on the saloon’s front wall that I thought looked both welcoming and standoffish at the same time, were four wooden pillars made from railroad ties. Display cases sat atop the pillars at eye level. Each was about a meter square and a half meter deep. The cases were simple wooden crates, but the insides held collections of crisscrossed silver, gold, and multi-colored wires that brought a three-dimensional allure to each piece. Extending from the base of each crate was a thin tray of sand. I couldn’t say for sure that the displays represented anything special, but Kate was particularly enamored with the last one on the right. She stared at her display almost exclusively, drawing in the sand below its container while the rest of the team showed no interest in any of the pictures. For myself, the pictures were the kind of art that almost looked like something. Maybe that’s the point of these things, I told myself. If you stare at one of them long enough, you’ll decide for yourself what it represents.
While the others milled around, I glanced over at Seku. I saw no blue wisps floating about the station, and no indication she was doing anything at all. She just stood there, staring directly ahead. The rest of the group ignored her, but I became curious enough to speak with her. Or try, at least.
“Engineer Seku,” I said respectfully, “I understand you have lived at the Sanctum a long time.”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes did dart over to meet mine before returning to the front. She had the air of a soldier standing at attention, I decided, though she seemed uncomfortable at the same time. For all I knew, T’Neth body language could mean something completely different than human body language, and she was actually quite relaxed. I’d heard stories that suggested T’Neth often misinterpreted people’s actions, so I thought that the reverse might also be true.
“Are you waiting for the ambassador?” I asked.
No response.
“I understand,” I said. “I don’t talk to people much, either.”
She took a few steps to her right and looked away.
Wow, I thought. Either she misunderstood me or was actively avoiding communication. I decided to try something she might be interested in. “I like your artwork,” I said, pointing to the display cases. “Can you tell me what they are?”
She turned her head toward me slightly, and then looked past me to the others in my party. She leaned forward as if to take a step, hesitated, then leaned back. She placed her hands stiffly at her sides, which looked unnatural for a being that I’d seen move with such grace earlier. I thought she might leave, but after a brief hesitation she moved to the nearest picture and looked at it. I looked over my shoulder at the others. They were huddled in quiet conversation, and Kate was still staring at her favorite display.
Seku stood by the first wooden crate and passed her hand close to the threads as if feeling for warmth. This particular object had more multi-c
olored threads running through it than the others, with an emphasis on greens and silvers. She looked back at me and nodded toward it.
Did she want my opinion of it? Okay. Now all I had to do was guess what it might be without offending her. I took a long look, examining each of the threads. Perhaps they formed some kind of silhouette or made use of negative space somehow. I’d never paid much attention in my art classes at the university, so I’d have to bluff my way through the conversation. If a conversation were to actually occur, I thought dourly. I passed my hand slowly in front of the picture like she had. “Is green your favorite color?” I asked. “Mine’s…whoa.”
I drew my hand back in surprise. Blue wisps had popped out where the wires met, looped around one another and flew back into the picture as I pulled away. I looked over my shoulder and saw that everybody else was too busy to notice. “I didn’t expect that,” I said, laughing a bit nervously.
When I looked at Seku, she stared at me, eyes wide, mouth open. I wondered if I insulted her somehow. “Sorry,” I leaned in close and whispered. “I thought it was going to electro…”
She nodded toward the painting again.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Seku thrust her right hand into the space between the wires and held it there. The blue wisps jumped out like they had for me. She pulled her hand back before they settled down, and then pointed at my right hand. Cautiously, I reached forward, and the blue wisps jumped out again. After feeling a little more assured that I wouldn’t be electrocuted, I probed the air until my hand almost touched the wires in the crate. The blue wisps buzzed around my hand like flies for a moment, and then coalesced into a sideways figure eight.
Seku gazed at me intently, as if waiting for me to do something else. When I just stood there watching the wisps, she pointed at the sand and made a twirling motion with her finger.
“Okay,” I said, feeling a minor sense of triumph that I actually understood her. I pulled my hand away from the display box and drew the image I’d seen. “This is the symbol we use for infinity,” I said.
Seku gawked at me in disbelief. She clasped her hands before her, holding a finger to her lips, and then held out her hands palm upward in the T’Neth form of greeting. In the air above her hands I saw a dozen blue wisps chasing each other in the same shape of infinity. I carefully touched my fingertip to the symbol and traced its outline from one end to the other. I felt nothing, as the wisps had no physical form, but Seku’s amazed expression told me enough. I could see what she was thinking.
“Getting a lesson in art appreciation?” Hathan-Fen said behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my boots. With a quick look at Seku, who had dropped her hands back to her sides, I turned to address the major. “I really have no idea. Do you?” I didn’t know if she saw the wisps, but I sure wasn’t going to ask.
“You seem to have made a friend, at least,” Hathan-Fen said. “Keep it up. You only have a few million more T’Neth to win over, and then convince them not to kill us,” she said cheerfully.
“What?” I asked.
Hathan-Fen shook her head good-naturedly. “Sorry, Alex. We’ve been talking over there and…we think we can make peace with the T’Neth. It looks like you found a way on your own.”
I looked at the others, all of whom were chatting amiably with one another, even Mayford and Redland. “That’s…good news, Major,” I said, but then paused and stared at her warily.
Seku gave me a quizzical look, not comprehending why I was suddenly backing away from her and the display case. I hurried back over to my team, dragging Hathan-Fen with me like she was a small child. The others greeted me warmly.
“Everybody look at me,” I said, snapping my fingers in front of their faces.
“Hey, kid,” Redland said jovially. “Want a piece o’ jerky?” He offered me one from his pocket.
“Seriously?” I asked him. “You never share that stuff.”
Redland only smiled back at me. “Aren’t we supposed to be allies now?”
What was painfully obvious to me had gone over their heads. “Humans aren’t the only ones with calming technology,” I told them harshly. “You are all being controlled!” When Hathan-Fen didn’t seem concerned in the slightest bit, I decided to get a little more assertive. I slapped her face.
“Alex?” Kate asked, finally looking up from her doodling. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I said. “We need to get back to Dolina right now!” I turned toward the train, only to realize it was no longer there. In its place, there was another wall of ice.
Seku gave me a pained look. “Stay,” she said.
“Take us back to Dolina,” I ordered. “We aren’t going to meet the ambassador anymore.”
“Wait,” Hathan-Fen said, touching the fresh red mark on her cheek. “Did you just slap me?” Her testy demeanor had resurfaced, and for once I was glad to see her angry. Redland scratched his beard in confusion while Mayford and Norio looked at one another, realization dawning on their faces.
“I did,” I confessed. “Do you feel better?”
“I might after I take your badge away,” she shot back.
Kate came closer and looked at the red mark on Hathan-Fen’s cheek. “Did I miss something?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “The T’Neth were trying to give us a taste of our own medicine.”
Redland needed no more time to get back into character. “Where the hell’s the train?” he barked.
Redland’s focus was misplaced. I turned toward the saloon wall, what had only looked like a façade up to that point, and began running my hand along the horizontal planks, feeling each seam and crack in the wood. I knocked on the blackened windows, even peered at the nails that I knew were only a false representation of the real thing.
“What’s going on?” Mayford asked as if he were coming out of a dream.
“This place dulls our senses, just like the cave entrance in the Colderlands,” Hathan-Fen said, casting a steely gaze at Seku. “They’re using our own technology against us.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said.
Redland turned to Mayford. “Did you know this was going to happen?”
“What?” Mayford stammered.
“Boys and girls,” Redland growled, “I’m sorry to report that Doctor Mayford fell victim to an unfortunate pummeling during our trip to the coast today. His attackers have not been identified.” He curled his fist into a ball, whereupon his knuckles cracked ominously.
“It looks as though the calming effect has been turned off,” I said. I moved to intervene with Redland’s unraveling temper.
“Marshal,” A female voice called from the saloon behind me, from a doorway that hadn’t existed a moment earlier.
We all turned around. A woman taller than Seku glided onto the boardwalk toward us in a silken garment, hood completely shrouding her face, hands clasped and hidden beneath the folds of long sleeves.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Mayford blurted. “It’s the Ambassador. Everybody, please form a line so I can introduce you.”
We didn’t budge. Mayford darted around us, frantically whispering that this was a momentous occasion, but stayed noticeably out of Redland’s reach as he did so.
Kate was the only one who responded to Mayford’s pleas. Together, they stood before the ambassador and held their hands out with palms facing upward. The rest of us retreated to a more comfortable distance and watched.
The ambassador moved forward but steered around Kate and Mayford. Instead, she came directly to me. As she looked at me, I looked back, trying to get a glimpse under her hood. Her mind emanated a fierce mental power, much the same as a fire emits heat, so that we could be standing in utter darkness and I’d still be able to pinpoint her location with my mind. Yet, that mind was impenetrable. I detected no thoughts, no emotions. It was different than the gulf of silence that separated Kate and me in Sunlo, however. This was an active wall, and it blocked everything except her presence.
The light in the station was too bright, and the shadow under the Ambassador’s hood was too dark for me to make out her features, but I sensed something familiar just the same. “Do I know you?” I asked.
“Ambassador,” Norio said, “I apologize for interrupting. We did not have time to explain that you…”
The ambassador held up her hand to silence the Jovian and regarded me for a long minute. When she finally opened her mind, her thoughts echoed through me as a chorus echoes through a concert hall. You are your father’s son, Alex.
A chill ran over me. “What?”
“Your mind is closed to me, as his was,” she answered. “I only know what my eyes tell me, that you have become like him.”
Had she been spying on me somehow? If so, why would she care about a marshal from the Plainsman Territory anyway?
“He was the governor, a soldier, and a seeker among your kind.” Her hands went up, fingers lightly caressing the edges of her hood, and pulled it back to reveal her face.
She showed none of the signs of aging that I imagined from someone who was supposed to be six hundred years old. In fact, she looked more like a woman in her mid-thirties. As I looked into her penetrating green eyes, I recognized the face I hadn’t seen since I was ten years old.
“He was also my husband,” she said.
My response came out in a hoarse whisper. “Mother?”
“It has been too long, my son,” the ambassador said.
Chapter Thirty-Six
To say that I felt overwhelmed would have been an understatement. Confused, yes. Dumbfounded, shaken, stunned. Yes, yes, yes. Able to articulate any of those emotions, no.
“Alex,” Norio began, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
I held up my hand to stop him. The last thing I wanted to hear were his pontifications.
In wonderment, Redland loosed a slow chain of expletives that might have adequately described my feelings if he’d continued longer. As his curses tapered off, he stood there with his mouth open. “Are you…?”
