The Falcoran’s Faith

by Laura Jo Phillips

  “There’s more to this than just picking a color,” she said, her voice soft and low. “The idea is to create an environment that induces whatever emotion you most want from the people who will use it.”

  Doc nodded. “I get that, I just don’t know how to go about doin’ it. I figure white is clean, and clean is good. That works, don’t it?”

  “White is also impersonal and, if used in the way you suggest, it will give an impression of sterility and coldness.”

  “Well, we don’t want that,” Doc said with a sigh. “What do we want?”

  “Considering how difficult it is for most human Jasani mates to get pregnant, and carry to term, I imagine you’d want them to feel calm and relaxed. Warm and comfortable. At the same time, you don’t want to hide the fact that this is a medical facility. They need to feel confident that they are in the hands of skilled doctors with all the best and latest technology at their fingertips.”

  “That’s a lot to convey with a few colors and fabrics,” Doc said doubtfully.

  “Yes, it is,” Darlene agreed. “But it can be done. People are both consciously and subliminally aware of colors, textures, lighting, and, of course, scents. Knowing how to use those things in combination to subtly induce specific reactions is both art and science.”

  “I understand the strength of scent memory,” Doc said. “I confess, I never thought to use it in a clinic before.”

  “The scent of clinics, hospitals, infirmaries, and other medical facilities is instantly stressful for most people, usually due to childhood memories of injuries, illness, needles, and pain,” Darlene said. “It’s not that difficult to neutralize the odors released by cleaning fluids, medications, antiseptics and the like, and replace them with soothing scents.”

  “Such as?” Doc asked.

  “Vanilla has been proven to relax a majority of people without them even being aware of it,” Darlene said. “It’s got to be mild though, and not artificially enhanced or mixed with other scents. Pure vanilla, light enough that after a few moments most people will not even notice it.”

  “That sounds good,” Doc said as he reached for his hand terminal and powered it up. “What other scents do you recommend?”

  “Cinnamon is also soothing, but in a different way,” Darlene said. “It aids in focus and concentration while helping to reduce stress. It would be a good scent to have in your office. Geranium can also be very soothing, though I wouldn’t generally advise the use of most floral scents in an environment like this.”

  “What about the surgery?” Doc asked as he typed memos into his hand terminal. “Should we pump vanilla into that room as well?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Darlene said. “It could be psychologically confusing to the patient. You’re not going to be able to hide the scents of antiseptics and other substances you use in there, and if those are mixed with a scent like vanilla, it might cause more tension than relief.”

  “Agreed,” Doc said.

  “So, did I pass?” Darlene asked after Doc finished making his notes.

  “Pass?” Doc asked.

  “Doc, you know more about every branch of medicine for more species than anyone in the Thousand Worlds,” Darlene said. “I’d be willing to bet that you know precisely how many drops of scent should be used for the exact size of any room to induce any mood you want.”

  “I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, darlin’,” he said with a grin. “But it wasn’t a test. I just wanted to see how much you knew on the subject, and I was working up to asking a more personal question.”

  “What question?” Darlene asked.

  “What’s your favorite scent?” Doc asked.

  There was something in his voice that warned Darlene that this was not a casual question. Doc was a smart man. No, make that brilliant. His manner and appearance were enormously, and deliberately, deceptive. She hesitated, meeting his gaze for a long moment before she raised one shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug and answered.

  “Sandalwood.”

  Doc blinked. “Now, ain’t that a coincidence? Happens to be one of my favorites as well.”

  Darlene had no doubt of that. Doc didn’t wear scent, but he did use sandalwood soap. Darlene debated with herself whether or not to ask what he was clearly waiting for her to ask.

  Was she ready for this? That was the real question, the real purpose of this entire conversation. If she didn’t ask what Doc was waiting for her to ask, he’d let it go. Again. He was nothing if not patient. She gathered all of her courage together and took the plunge. “What’s your favorite scent?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Doc blew out a long, slow breath, then smiled gently at her. “Jasani moonflower,” he said, naming the spicy, woodsy aroma of the rare night blooming flower. It was the only scent Darlene ever wore.

  Darlene nodded, then dropped her eyes, uncertain what to say next. She decided to play it safe. “Do you really need my help with decorating?”

  “Absolutely,” Doc said. “I know what colors are soothing, and which aren’t, that’s true. But I haven’t a clue in the galaxy how to put ‘em together.”

  Darlene nodded. Now that she believed. “Let’s get started then.”

  “I’ve got to see a patient in Badia this afternoon,” Doc said, “and then I have to go to Berria for a couple of days. Would you like to have dinner with me when I get back?”

  Darlene’s heart skipped a beat, but she’d taken the first step. She wouldn’t back out now. “Yes, Doc, I’d like that very much.”

  Chapter Ten

  Marqex sat on a rock outside the cave entrance, her eyes closed, gray head tilted toward the sun. Between her palms, resting on her lap, lay the Erekorra, its rainbow of colored lights flashing in the afternoon sunlight. Darck sat nearby, patient and still, something that came easily to him now. He tried to imagine his old self sitting like this and smiled. He was no longer the person he’d once been, a fact that he was profoundly grateful for.

  Marqex shifted a little, then opened her eyes on a long, drawn out sigh.

  “You are well?” Darck asked in concern.

  “I am saddened by what I have just seen,” Marqex said as she held the crystal out to him. “Yet, at the same time, I am pleased by what I have just learned.”

  Darck accepted the Erekorra and slipped it back into the pack with the other relics. Once he would have asked questions. Now, he waited, content to let Marqex speak in her own time, in her own way.

  “Tell me, Darck, what story did the Brethren tell of Ugaztun?” Marqex asked.

  “In short, that they destroyed the home world of the Narrasti, our ancestors, and that a small handful of sugea were able to return the favor at the last moment,” Darck replied.

  “And do you believe that?” Marqex asked.

  “To be honest, Marqex, I did not care,” he said, shamed by the truth, but unwilling to lie. “I did believe, yes, but it happened so far in the past, and seemed to have nothing to do with me.”

  “And now?” Marqex asked. “How do you feel now?”

  Darck looked away from Marqex. “I am afraid my answer will disappoint you.”

  “Do not concern yourself with that,” Marqex said. “I ask only for your opinion.”

  “I hold no grudges, Marqex,” Darck admitted. “Not with Ugaztun, not with the Jasani, not even with Stalnek. I want only to live in peace with my family.”

  “And you think I would be disappointed in that?” Marqex asked, smiling at him. She shook her head gently. “That you love your family is a credit to you Darck. However, you are mistaken in thinking that the events of three thousand years ago do not effect us now. They do. Very much so.”

  “How?” Darck asked.

  “The Erekorra has shown me the truth of what happened between the two worlds,” Marqex said. “It is a truth that I have long suspected, but my genetic memories haven’t been enough to clarify it. Now, I know that my suspicions were correct.”

  “This sounds o
minous,” Darck said. “What is it that you suspected?”

  “The Narrasti did not destroy Ugaztun,” she said. “Neither did the Ugaztun destroy Narrastia.”

  “What did happen?” Darck asked. He knew that both planets had been destroyed. He’d seen images of the asteroid fields that now existed in place of the sister planets.

  “The Xanti destroyed both,” Marqex said quietly.

  “The Xanti?” Darck asked in surprise. “But...why?”

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” Marqex said thoughtfully. “No one knew then, as no one knows now. I can tell you only that the Erekorra does not lie. It is a recording of the memories of four sugean space swimmers.”

  “Space swimmers?” Darck asked. That was a term he’d never heard before.

  “Space swimmers were sugea with only one magical ability and almost no intelligence whatsoever. Usually such as they were destroyed shortly after emerging from the egg. These four, however, were gifted with the rare ability to swim space. They floated high above Narrastia, in space, connected to each other in an unbroken chain of guardian magic that surrounded the planet like a shield. The shield, by its nature as Narrasti magic, repelled magic from Ugaztun.”

  “Damn,” Darck whispered.

  “Indeed,” Marqex agreed. “Because their intelligence was almost nonexistent, their memories, what they saw while they swam space above Narrastia, were stored within an egg shaped crystal called an Erekorra. When the Narrasti fled the planet they took many artifacts, including the Erekorra, in hopes that whatever had happened would be recorded within it. And it was. Right up to the moment the lifeboat carrying the Erekorra left the system.”

  “What did the space swimmers see?” Darck asked.

  “They saw four Xanti ships. They saw the first weapons of destruction leave the ships and slam into both Narrastia, and Ugaztun. They saw the utter destruction of both worlds.”

  “What happened to them?” Darck asked.

  “I do not know,” Marqex replied with a regretful sigh. “For all I know they still exist, swimming space around the remains of the two worlds.”

  “Still alive after all this time?” Darck asked.

  “Once matured, sugea do not age, Darck,” Marqex said. “Why else do you think that I show my age, yet Magoa looks as young as he did five hundred years ago?”

  “I knew that Narrasti did not age as quickly as the rest of us, but I did not know that sugea were immune to it altogether.”

  “It is unfortunate for our people,” Marqex said. “Until someone kills Magoa, he will remain in power.”

  Now that Darck was a father himself, he understood how difficult it must have been for Marqex to accept the evil in her son, and turn her back on him. He decided to change the subject, for her sake.

  “Perhaps this is a dumb question, but why didn’t the Xanti stop the life boats from escaping when they destroyed Narrastia?”

  “It is not a dumb question at all,” Marqex said. “According to the Erekorra, many lifeboats were destroyed by the Xanti, both those of Narrastia, and of Ugaztun. Very few escaped, and those only because there were so many life boats, and so few Xanti.”

  “I do not truly understand genetic memories, as you know,” he said. “But I wonder, why is it that the destruction of your home world, and what the sugea saw, not in them?”

  Marqex nodded slowly, a small smile on her face. “You ask the correct questions, Darck, once of Winicke. I am proud of you.”

  Darck smiled, surprised and pleased by such high praise from this woman that he respected so much.

  “Those Narrasti who reached Earth and, in time, became the Brethren, have no genetic connection to those of us who were here, on Onddo, at the time of the destruction. Our genetic memories, our connection with those who once lived on Narrastia, ended with that world’s end. The connection with those who escaped was broken.”

  Darck thought about that. “If I had genetic memories, then I would know what truly happened without the Erekorra,” he said.

  “That is true,” Marqex agreed. “It remains to be seen if your children will have genetic memories.”

  “I hope they don’t,” Darck said. “I would rather they not be burdened with the knowledge of their Earth ancestors.”

  “That is the downside of genetic memories,” Marqex agreed.

  “What shall we do?” Darck asked.

  “We will show our village the Erekorra, and what it contains,” Marqex said. “And we will send a copy to the new village.”

  “How goes the rumor mill?” Darck asked with a hint of a smile.

  “Very well,” Marqex replied, then shook her head slowly. “It is his own fault that a few words can so easily destroy the loyalty of his people. In the beginning, Magoa understood that the people were his strength, and he used them carefully. Then the Xanti came, and he forgot about the importance of the people. His sudden decision to have Slater, a known sugea, with him at all times raised questions that he should have answered, but didn’t. Bringing the Brethren to Onddo without explanation, and spending most of his time with the Xanti, made things worse. The people were losing faith in him, but he was so distracted with his own plans that he never noticed. The stealing of so many eggs infuriated everyone, further weakening his hold, and still he did not notice. Magoa himself made the time ripe for the secret of the bio-engineered sugean eggs to be leaked.”

  “How many have defected?”

  “Nearly half the population,” Marqex said, much to Darck’s shock.

  “The site we prepared is not large enough for so many.”

  “That site was meant only to make it easier for the first of those we approached to leave their homes,” Marqex said. “They no longer need our assistance. At last report, there are now two small settlements to the southeast, and a third is planned.”

  Darck nodded. The settlements of those defecting were all a good distance from their own. They’d been very careful to keep their existence secret, and Darck wanted to keep it that way. Magoa had access to Xanti ships and weapons, and they had no defense against either.

  “I believe we need to find a way to share the knowledge of the Erekorra with those Narrasti who still live beneath Magoa’s claws,” Marqex said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “How do we do that without Magoa finding out?”

  “I do not yet know,” Marqex said as she stood up and stretched carefully. “We must think on it. And we must come up with an answer in the next few days. We must summon those of our people who are still in town very soon. Once we do that, we will no longer have eyes and ears on Magoa or the Xanti, but it cannot be helped.”

  Darck stood up too, then picked up the pack of relics. “You feel something coming, don’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Marqex said. “I have long known that the arrival of the one called Stalnek would set certain events in motion. I do not know what the outcome of those events will be, but I do know that they will mark the future of Onddo. Stalnek’s arrival is now imminent. Shortly thereafter either we, the peaceful Bakea will emerge victorious, or Magoa’s Hasen will. There will be no compromise.”

  “It is ironic that we who want nothing but peace must fight for it,” Darck said.

  “Yes, it is,” Marqex agreed. “But in all honesty, Darck, we want more than peace. We want the bio-engineered eggs to be destroyed. We want to clear the minds that Magoa has muddied, and let them know that his words were false. We want the Xanti to leave Onddo, and never return.”

  “True,” Darck replied with a smile. “All true. And all worth fighting for.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tristan, Gray, and Jon stood in the hall outside Faith’s cabin in the early hours of the morning, their bodies tense, fists clenched at their sides, eyes closed, as they all focused on Faith,. A few minutes later they opened their eyes and cautiously relaxed.

  This was the fourth night in a row that Faith had awakened screaming. They hadn’t entered her room since the first night. Faith’s
worry and fear had been clearly communicated to them, even though she hadn’t spoken of it. They’d had the lock on her door replaced immediately, which she had appreciated. If necessary, they could easily manipulate the lock without damaging it, but Faith didn’t know that, and they saw no reason to tell her.

  Each night they remained outside the door and sent their Water magic in to calm her nightmares and send her into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. It was more difficult for them when they couldn’t actually see her, especially when they weren’t sure where she was. But seeing Faith relax more and more each day made the effort worth it.

  When they were sure that she was safely beyond her nightmares, they turned away from the door. “It’s too late to go back to bed,” Tristan said, leading the way to the control room. “I wish there were some way for us to know what it is that she fears so much.”

  “I’m not sure that matters at this point,” Jon said. “She’s never going to tell us what she’s afraid of until she trusts us, and she’s never going to trust us until she stops being so afraid.”

  “We’d never harm her,” Tristan said. “Surely she must know that.”

  “Even if her senses tell her she can trust us, I’m not so sure she trusts herself enough to listen,” Gray said. “I agree with Jon. We need to find a way to increase her sense of safety.”

  “If we can’t get her to trust us to keep her safe, I don’t know what we can do,” Tristan said, running his hands through his black hair in frustration.

  “I think I have an idea,” Jon said. Gray and Tristan looked at him hopefully.

  “We should get her a raktsasa,” Jon said. His brothers stared at him in surprise for a long moment. Then they closed their mouths and considered his suggestion.

  “They can be dangerous,” Gray said.

  “That’s the idea,” Jon said.

  “They bond for life,” Tristan added. “It would have to accept the three of us.” Tristan sighed when he felt his brothers’ hope rising. “Whether we claim her or not, whether she allows it or not, I do want us to maintain a relationship with her. Besides, she’s agreed to remain on the Eyrie during the Onddo mission in order to search for more jump points. If she is to have a raktsasa, it must accept us. Otherwise we can’t risk having it on the ship. It wouldn’t be capable of seriously harming Clan Jasani, but we have many human Jasani on board to think of.”