The Falcoran’s Faith

by Laura Jo Phillips

  Stalnek had wondered, for just a moment, if he could have saved his people by accepting Xaqana-Ti’s offer of assistance. A Xanti ship would have halved the travel time of the Chameleon, putting him on Onddo months earlier. But, he hadn’t wanted to accept any more favors from the Xanti, and had chosen to remain on the much slower Chameleon instead.

  “What now?” Stalnek asked himself softly as Kevlin walked through the deserted camp, passing one hut after another, some still intact, others in tatters. “I am leader of no one. My son is dead, my brother is dead, my nephew is dead, everyone is dead save for myself, Kevlin, and a handful of crew that are more human than Brethren.”

  As he continued to watch the screen, he wondered if his brother, Jarlek, had thought to leave a message for him. Probably not, he thought. Jarlek had been hopelessly stupid about such things. He reached out and pressed a button.

  “Kevlin,” he said into the mic.

  “Yes, Stalnek?” Kevlin asked, panting slightly.

  “Find Jarlek’s dwelling and search it for a message, diary, log, anything of that nature.”

  “All right,” Kevlin replied. “I’ll have to go into all of them since there’s nothing to indicate who lived where.”

  “Then go into all of them,” Stalnek snapped impatiently. “I don’t care how long it takes.” As he spoke a thought popped into his mind and his jaw dropped open in surprise at himself. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? Must be the shock, he decided. He stabbed the button again. “Kevlin, find the relics,” he said urgently, all thoughts of his dead people shoved aside. “They have to be there somewhere. I ordered Jarlek to bring them to Onddo and he wouldn’t have dared disobey me.”

  “If they are here, we will find them,” Kevlin said.

  “See that you do,” Stalnek said.

  Kevlin heard the strain in Stalnek’s voice, though he barely cared. What difference did it make? What difference did anything make? Who cared if Jarlek left a message? What could he possibly have said that would matter? Who cared about the relics? Of what use could they be to a race that no longer existed? The Brethren were dead. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

  “Mr. Kevlin,” a voice called to him. He looked up to see Kronok, one of the crew of the Chameleon, standing at the entrance to one of the round tent-like structures. “I think this was Mr. Jarlek’s dwelling.”

  Kevlin nodded and veered toward him. When he stepped inside the hut he felt anger begin to rise up in him, then quickly die. What difference did it make that the highest ranking Brethren on this misbegotten world had spent his remaining days in a mean hut barely fit for the lowest ranked of them?

  He looked around sadly, then opened the container at the foot of Jarlek’s bed and gazed at the contents. A few articles of clothing. A time piece that he recognized as belonging to Jarlek. A hand terminal, and vox, both useless without power to run them. Little else. As he stared into the trunk it suddenly struck him that all of the objects were stacked together at one side, leaving the other half empty.

  Kevlin sat down on the edge of the bed and thought. He suspected that the empty half of the container had held the relics. That was the most reasonable explanation. It was now empty. He reached up and tapped the comm link to the Chameleon.

  “What?” Stalnek demanded.

  “We’ve located Jarlek’s hut,” Kevlin said. “There is an empty space in his foot locker that may have held the relics, but there’s no other sign of them. I don’t see any messages, either.”

  “Check the other huts,” Stalnek ordered. “Maybe someone took possession of them after Jarlek died.”

  “Very well,” Kevlin said with a sigh.

  “What is wrong with you?” Stalnek demanded angrily.

  Kevlin took a deep breath and told himself to hold his tongue. But his tongue didn’t listen. “My sons are dead, Stalnek,” he said tiredly. “My brothers are dead. My nephews are dead. Everyone is dead. I am more concerned with that at the moment than I am with finding a collection of ancient junk.”

  “Junk?” Stalnek demanded. “You call the relics of our people junk?”

  “We have no people, Stalnek,” Kevlin reminded him. “They are relics of no one.”

  “Stop being so damned maudlin,” Stalnek replied, his anger fading to disgust. “We’re alive. That’s what matters. Now find those relics.”

  “Fine,” Kevlin said. He disconnected, then took the camera button off of his lapel and handed it to Kronok. “Take this and go tell the others to search each hut for the relics,” he said.

  “Yes, Mr. Kevlin,” Kronok said, attaching the button camera to his own lapel.

  After Kronok was gone Kevlin continued to sit on the edge of what had once been his cousin Jarlek’s bed for a time, then he rose to his feet and left the hut. He stood silently as he watched the three crewmen go methodically from hut to hut in their search. After a while, he asked one of them for the location of the burial ground. The man told him, and Kevlin turned toward it.

  “Would you like me to accompany you, Mr. Kevlin?” Kronok asked, faint worry in his tone.

  “No, thank you,” Kevlin replied. “Continue with your task.”

  Kevlin turned his back on the encampment and, following the directions he’d received, headed toward the burial ground nearby. It wasn’t very large, just a small plot of land holding neat rows of small white plaques stuck into the ground over the ash filled urns buried beneath. Starting with the first one, he read each plaque, remembering each face that went with each name. A flash of light hit the corner of his eye and he brushed his hand along the side of his face absently, as though waving an insect away. A moment later, it happened again, and then a third time. Only after the fourth flash did it penetrate his grief. He looked up, turning toward a nearby mountain of large boulders. The flash hit his eye once again as he watched.

  He stared at the boulders for a long minute, thinking. Then, for reasons he wasn’t altogether sure of, he began walking toward them. Once he reached the edge of the rock mound, he paused to look behind him. The crewmen were still in the huts, and he was alone. He could not climb the boulders without risking a broken neck, so he walked around it to the far side instead. When he’d gone far enough that he could no longer see the field of graves, he looked up, then fell to his knees in shock when he saw his nephew, Darck.

  “Uncle,” Darck said, leaping down from the top of a large boulder and going to his knees in front of Kevlin. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” Kevlin gasped. “You’re alive.”

  “Yes,” Darck said solemnly. “But I must ask...no...beg, that you not tell anyone.”

  “But...why?” Kevlin asked, letting Darck help him to his feet.

  “Have you time to hear this?” Darck asked, glancing in the direction of the encampment.

  “Yes, I have time,” Kevlin said. “Nor will I repeat anything you say if you want it kept secret.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” Darck said. Speaking quickly, Darck told the story of all that had happened to the Brethren over the past year. As he listened, Kevlin realized that this was a very different young man than the one he had known. Before long, Kevlin realized just how much his nephew had changed, and why.

  “I am risking the lives of many, including my own children, to tell you that your sons still live,” Darck said when he was finished. “They are mated, happy, and soon to be fathers themselves. It was, perhaps, foolish of me to take such a risk, but you have always been a good man, and I don’t want you to suffer. Also, my father had the pleasure of knowing I was happy. It didn’t seem fair to keep that knowledge from you. “

  “Thank you, Darck,” Kevlin said, gripping his nephew’s arm tightly. “I cannot tell you what this gift means to me.”

  “Stalnek cannot know, Uncle,” Darck said. “The Brethren exist no more, but he will never accept that. Our futures lie here.”

  “Agreed,” Kevlin said. “Stalnek believes that everyone is dead, and there is no reason to alter that belief. His conce
rn right now is for the relics.”

  “I have them,” Darck admitted. “Father gave them to me shortly before he died.”

  “This is not good,” Kevlin said. “Not good at all.”

  “Why are you so worried?” Darck asked. “Stalnek can have no way of knowing where they are.”

  “Right now there are crewman searching the encampment for the relics,” Kevlin said. “When they are not found, Stalnek will believe that Magoa has them. He may even decide that Magoa killed the Brethren in order to acquire them. I know Stalnek well, Darck. When Magoa does not hand the relics over, Stalnek may destroy every living being on this planet.”

  “He has the means to do such a thing?” Darck asked, shocked.

  “Yes,” Kevlin said. “There is a weapon aboard the Chameleon that can render Onddo incapable of supporting life. Stalnek has nothing to lose, Darck. His son is dead, his people are dead, and he’d rather see the relics destroyed than in the hands of others.”

  “Then I will give him the relics,” Darck said. “It will take me the remainder of this day to go to the village and return. Meet me here tomorrow, at this time, and I will have the relics for you. You can say you found them.”

  “No,” Kevlin replied, thinking quickly. “Jarlek was far more intelligent than Stalnek gave him credit for. He gave them to you, and he certainly knew the risks involved in doing so. He must have had a good reason for it.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Darck said. “I will not risk the lives of my family, or the lives of our new people for a sack of objects.”

  Kevlin looked into his nephew’s worried and determined eyes, and smiled. “I agree, Nephew, nothing must threaten any of you. The Brethren are no more, but you, my sons, and the others, are the legacy of what we could have been. You will not be harmed by Stalnek. This will be my gift to you, and your people, Darck.”

  Darck’s eyes widened in understanding. He took a few moments to consider, then sighed. It was necessary. Stalnek would destroy everything otherwise. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said, hugging Kevlin tightly for the first time in his life. “I promise you, not only your sons, but all of our people, and our children, will know your name and the sacrifice you make for us. Never will you be forgotten.”

  “Thank you, Darck,” Kevlin said, touched. “You are a good man. I confess I never thought so before, but you have changed. I hope that my sons will become as you are.”

  “I wasn’t good, Uncle,” Darck said. “I know that. But now, I have reason to be a good man, and I’m determined to do what is right for those I love.”

  “And that is what I shall do, too,” Kevlin said.

  Just then they both heard distant footsteps and a voice calling Kevlin.

  “I must go now,” Kevlin said. Darck nodded, hugged his uncle one last time, then vanished among the boulders. Kevlin turned around, composed his face, then walked calmly around the side of the high mound of boulders and into view.

  “Calm yourself,” he said with obvious annoyance as he walked toward the crewmen.

  “There you are,” one said.

  “We were worried,” said the other. “Why were you over there?”

  “Why do you think?” Kevlin retorted testily as he made a show of adjusting his pants.

  “Oh,” they replied together.

  “I’m finished here,” he said as he reached them and kept walking. “I want off this planet. Now.”

  “But, we haven’t finished...,” one man began. Kevlin turned around and glared at the man.

  “Then remain here. I will send the shuttle back for you.” Kevlin turned his back on them, and put them out of his mind. He imagined his sons living happily with wives and children of their own. Never before had such a future been possible for them. They were too reptilian for human women, and there were not enough berezi to go around. Now, their lives had changed drastically, and for the better. He would do absolutely anything to insure they lived to enjoy what they now had. Anything at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Faith had spent as much time in her room as possible over the past few days, leaving only to take Bubbles down to the Roar Room to play, or to check new anomalies. All of the ships in the task force were now conducting sensor scans calibrated to the profiles of the anomalies as they traveled. With the detailed data obtained from high resolution scans of the different types of anomalies Faith identified, the search proceeded quickly. They only needed her to check those that they were unsure of, and to tell them where new jump points led. They found one new jump point to a primitive world called Rathira that Faith had never heard of, and another to a world called Marrazo, which was vaguely familiar to her. They didn’t find any more Xanti Doors though, which made sense as there weren’t any advanced worlds in the area.

  This morning, the fourth day after the Falcorans’ blood rage, Summer Katre brought her friend, Darlene Flowers, to visit. Faith found that she liked Darlene a great deal. She was a quiet woman, and very beautiful in spite of the tiny scars that covered every bit of skin that Faith could see. They told her about Controllers, and their mission to find and free every woman who’d been kidnapped by the Xanti. When Summer began telling her about the network of professional aid they’d set up to help the women they’d rescued, Faith finally understood the real reason they were there.

  “Summer,” she said, “I think the two of you have done some really amazing work. I’m impressed. I know that I’ll need to return to counseling on some level once we return to Jasan, so its nice to know the resources are in place. Unless they’re specifically for the women you rescue?”

  “No, of course not,” Summer said. “They’re for anyone who needs them. So, you’ve had counseling?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely,” Faith said, making a sudden decision. If she didn’t want to feel ashamed of what had happened to her, she had to stop acting as though she were ashamed of it. “The rape, and losing Grace, are actually only the tip of the iceberg.” She waited to see if they wanted to hear her story.

  “We’d like to hear, if you feel like sharing,” Darlene said.

  Faith took a deep breath, then told the two women all that had happened to her. After telling the Falcorans her story she’d felt as though a weight had been lifted from her. Now, as she told Darlene and Summer the same story, she felt the weight lighten further. When she was finished they glanced at each other and shook their heads.

  “You’re doing amazingly well for all you’ve been through,” Summer said. “You’re very strong.”

  “I don’t feel strong,” Faith admitted. “I’m afraid of things I shouldn’t be afraid of, and I can’t see how to get past that.”

  Summer tilted her head, her dark eyes speculative. “You’re afraid to accept the Falcorans.”

  “Yes,” Faith said. “I don’t want to be, but I am.”

  “Is that your biggest fear?” Darlene asked.

  Faith thought a moment. “Yes, I think so. I have other issues. Nightmares. A resistance to being touched by strangers. Post traumatic stress, obviously. But yes, three men coming at me all at once is the one thing that truly terrifies me.”

  “But you aren’t afraid of the Falcorans,” Summer said. “I saw the way you looked at them. You trust them, and you care about them.”

  “No, I’m not afraid of them, and yes, I do care about them,” Faith said. “Trying to imagine having sex with them is the sticking point for me.”

  “I don’t give advice to the women we rescue,” Summer said. “I know that they need professional help, and I’m not a professional. But in your case, knowing you’ve had help, I think it might be all right to make a small suggestion to you.”

  “Which is?” Faith asked, curious.

  “Stop trying to imagine yourself having sex with the Falcorans, and just imagine being with them,” Summer said. “Your only experience was an abomination. Imagining the Falcorans doing the same thing can’t be anything but terrifying. I promise you, making love is in no way related to what you experienced.
”

  Faith was startled by the simple truth of what Summer’s words. “That’s so...logical,” she said. “Why didn’t I realize that myself?”

  “There is no logic in fear,” Darlene said.

  “I know, but this seems so simple,” Faith said.

  “I don’t know that it will be simple,” Summer said. “But it’s a place to start.”

  “Yes, it is,” Faith said. “Which is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

  ***

  Magoa stood outside the door to the underground nursery and watched the two glittery skinned Xanti walk down the corridor toward him. He gave every indication that he was relaxed, calm, and unconcerned by their presence, though inwardly he was suspicious, tense, and frustrated.

  Before he’d even had breakfast that morning the Brethren leader, Stalnek, had voxed from his ship demanding to know where his people were. Right after that, the Xanti had informed him they were coming to see him. Not asked. Told. It made Magoa want to gnash his teeth. He was far too busy to waste time dealing with the Brethren or the Xanti. But, as much as he hated the knowledge, he still needed the Xanti. Having a few more Brethren on hand wouldn’t be a bad thing, either. A soft noise from behind him caught his attention.

  “Be still, Slater,” he murmured without taking his eyes from the Xanti. “If you show them your true feelings I will be very displeased.”

  Slater did not respond, but there was no further sound. Magoa considered sending Slater away, as he did at least a dozen times a day, but he didn’t quite dare. Ever since their battle against the Jasani creatures on Earth he’d been secretly afraid to let Slater stray too far from him. He knew very well that he would have lost more than the battle had he fought the Jasani alone. Being paired with Slater during that fight had been all that had saved his life.