by Damon Alan
“The next question is obvious. Is this person safe to have on the ship?” Sarah asked.
“He needs to be removed from the ship imme—,” Gilbert said.
Dr. Jannis jumped in, interrupting Gilbert. “I think so, Captain, you saw how he struggled to lift the gun. I don't see how he could’ve had any idea it was a weapon, the natives don’t have guns, not that we’ve seen. I think he just saw an opportunity to show you what he could do, to prove his worth if you will.”
“None of that proves his good intentions. He could attack next time he wakes up,” Gilbert said. “Like the Captain says, with his brain.”
“Why would he want to do that?” Seto said. “He's being cared for.”
Dr. Jannis scowled again.
Sarah waited for her to speak, then was surprised to find Dr. Jannis agreeing with Gilbert.
The doctor’s tone of voice was careful. “The Commander has a point. Our patient doesn't know that he's being cared for. He knows he's restrained, in a strange place, and we are in control of him. How would you react, Lieutenant?”
Vander laughed. “Maybe he wanted to show his worth so we don't eat him.”
Sarah glared at the corporal, and the smile vanished from his face. He crossed his fingers and looked at his lap. Dr. Jannis patted him on the arm reassuringly.
Jannis smiled wryly at Sarah. “As repulsive as that idea is to us, he doesn't know our intentions. His society is likely to be barbaric by our standards. He might think we're marinating him for a nice roast.”
Seto, a vegetarian, looked disgusted.
“Doctor, that's enough,” Sarah said.
While still looking at Seto, Dr. Jannis said, “I’m just trying to look at things from his point of view.”
“You’ve made your point,” Sarah said.
Satisfied, Dr. Jannis smiled at the Captain. “I think he’s probably just a kid out of his element. But he might be dangerous. Still, he needs medical care for some time yet. He may die without proper treatment.”
Gilbert slapped the table, startling everyone. “I have an idea, Captain. I think this solution will fit our needs. Until we figure this out, I suggest we avoid the locals and prohibit travel to the surface. It's too dangerous, I mean, how do you fight psychic powers? We don't know if he's the best they've got or if he's a telekinesis school flunky.”
“That’s reasonable,” Sarah said. “Nobody needs to go to the surface yet.”
Gilbert continued. “Since we won't be trading with the locals until we determine the danger they present, we should set up some asteroid farms orbiting Ember. There are several very small moons that we can move closer, or we can just bring in a rock from elsewhere in the solar system. I suggest we pick a rock, move it to the location we want it so that it gets good heat from Ember, and we keep this Eislen character there. He could be detained —”
“Detained?” Dr. Jannis shook her head. “I don’t think so, not once we get him away from the fleet. He’s an innocent kid unless he does something malicious.”
Gilbert flexed the muscles in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Fine, doctor. We can mince words if you like. He can be housed on site while the crews from the Fyurigan build the farm domes.”
“In a crew shuttle?” Sarah furrowed her brow. “That seems to be pretty unfriendly of us. He's not going to understand that he can't go outside.”
“Or in a larger crew module. We have several mobile bases that we can deploy. I'm suggesting that we hold him away from the fleet and the farming stations are something we need to do anyway.”
I get to tell the crew beaches and open sky will have to wait.
Sarah sighed unhappily. “I was really looking forward to eating something fresh inside of six months, but you're right, the locals are potentially dangerous.” Sarah thought a moment. “If he’s well enough to move, I think this is a reasonable compromise. Doctor?”
Dr. Jannis tapped her fingers on the table as she spoke. “Moving him won't hurt anything. His medical care will be better if we keep him here, but what I can give him at a mobile station should suffice.”
“Well, if it's mostly harmless for him on one hand and potentially dangerous to the fleet on the other, I am behind Commander Gilbert's plan. Mr. Gilbert, it's your plan, see to it. Doctor, pick a medic to go with our patient who will see to his recovery, you’re not going to be away from the fleet that long. I'll put a shuttle at your disposal so you can visit him for checkups if you must. Corporal Vander, you're going to be away from the fleet for a few months.”
“Captain?” Vander said.
“I want you to learn Eislen's language, and most importantly, him to learn ours. How long will that take?”
“It depends on him, Captain. I can learn the basics of his language in a few months. As for him learning ours, that's up in the air.”
“Whatever it takes, make it happen, and quickly. We'll need a liaison, and Eislen's injuries have involuntarily selected him for the job.”
Malco looked excited. “I'll get right on it, Captain. I've never seen a space dome being constructed.”
“It's AI labor, but there will be some techs there too. You'll be living in tight quarters.”
Vander nodded. His was the only happy face in the room.
Sarah stood up and everyone rose with her. “Then we're agreed. Telekinesis exists, we want to know more about it. We're going to keep this local at the farming rock and teach him Standard so that he can speak to us and tell us all about his magic powers. In exchange, we're going to give him modern medicine instead of whatever he'd get on Refuge. Correct?”
“That's how I see it, sir,” Gilbert affirmed.
“Doctor, once the mobile construction base is in place, see to the transfer of your patient. Keep him sedated until then. Commander Gilbert will advise you when the base is habitable.”
Dr. Jannis nodded.
“Dismissed,” Sarah said.
Chapter 13 - Captain's Personal Log
05 GUSTA 15327
AI Lucy82A recording, Captain's personal log, Michael Stennis archive: Galactic Standard Date 00:13:21 Gusta 05, 15327
Personal log entry #679, Captain Sarah Dayson, origin Korvand, Pallus Sector.
Current Location: Star System Oasis, orbiting Refuge.
Today was the strangest work rotation I've had since I joined the Alliance military eighteen years ago.
Telekinesis.
[laughter]
Is that crazy or what? Science has spent thousands of years making fun of people who believe in this kind of hocus pocus, and then today I get to see it firsthand. I can't blame everyone for being upset, and it's not because Eislen nearly shot one of our nurses. Science is the faith of modern society, and to find something so different than what we've been told is possible, well, that would be like me proving to Harmeen that all the Bundists are wrong. It's the kind of jolt that shakes one's... trust. I started to say faith, but we don't have faith in science, we have trust. Harmeen has faith.
[sound of cooler opening, a popping noise as a seal is broken]
Well, here's to my religion just being proven fallible.
[AI estimates 63% probability sound of packet crinkling as contents are drained]
Telekinesis. Who the hell would have thought that would upset me more than being marooned outside the galaxy? Next thing you know one of Harmeen’s gods will speak to me.
I'm going to bed.
End the log, Lucy.
Chapter 14 - The Toll of the Demon
Morning of Secondday, cycle 61, year 8748
Merik waited for the Council to decide the fate of the demon.
It took months to bring a Council meeting together. Travel was slow, and Nula Armana had places very distant from Zeffult. Adepts arrived by carriage or ship at all hours of the day, for cycles on end. Alarin tallied them in a ledger for Merik as they reported their arrival.
Merik stood on the balcony of her suite, wind from the sea cooling her as the Secondday sun beat down on a
baking landscape. She gazed down a hill, over the wood shingled roofs of her bustling city, and over the market at the heart of the town. A small boat arrived with passengers from a larger ship anchored at sea. The cranes on the cliff struggled to raise the small luxury skiff from the bay. This struck Merik as odd, since the cranes were designed to lift fully laden fishing vessels from the water.
Merik turned her head and called back into the darkness of her suite. “Alarin, why would the cranes have so much trouble lifting that boat?”
Alarin stepped from the shadows, joining her on the balcony. He had a large leather bound book bundled in his left arm. “I'd like to say the cranes are broken, but pampered adepts carrying too much luggage or bringing too many servants is a more likely answer.”
“Who is on board that skiff being raised now?”
Alarin laid the book on the railing, opened it, and flipped the pages. “The harbor pilot reports four adepts from the Sweltering Lands, Merik. I can secure their names if you like.”
“No, they are irrelevant. I just wanted to know how far they'd come. I am impatient to see the council begin.”
“At least you didn't need to travel. You called the council, so you have the luxury of being host.”
“True, but at great personal expense and the agony of having all of these idiots in Zeffult.” Merik sipped her wine and watched as distant figures departed the now moored skiff. “I had no choice. The demon grows bold and brandishes its swords in the sky. This council had to be called, and more importantly, I need their assistance as much as I despise saying it.”
“Indeed.” Alarin sat the book on an ornate table just inside the balcony door.
Merik thought of the hundreds of adepts who traveled at her request. “The Sweltering Lands. They've come a long way. I suppose that means we'll have the council soon, since most of the others should be here.”
“Protocol says you should be greeting them, then you'd know how many were here.”
Merik looked at Alarin, irritated by his words. “I'll not abide their filthy touch. You know me by now, protocol means nothing. I set the rules I wish to follow.”
He's my mate, and he's the one that likes these people. He should be greeting them.
Alarin changed the subject. He poured her a goblet of scorchberry wine. “Wine, master?”
She sensed a thought from him, a thought of bodies touching, of the scent of flowers.
My perfume.
Merik laughed. “I see your machinations. You wish me to be sodden because you think me easier to seduce. You think if you please me I’ll be more pliable.”
She turned to face him. “That’s adept thinking, Alarin. I know you call me master when you wish to remind me of your subservience, usually because you're about to ask something of me. Of course if you're going to ask for sex, you should be more romantic than referring to me as master.”
Alarin smiled, his eyes wandered her body. “I'm a man, and sodden with my adoration. As all men are, I'm clumsy and uncertain at times.”
“Yet charming in your clumsy and oafish way,” she replied over the rim of her goblet.
He laughed. “I am transparent to you, I should just accept that.”
She sensed another thought, of him being in her mind when she orgasmed, and of her in his when he did the same. She hid her arousal.
“I don’t begrudge your attempts to be with me, I would be saddened if you didn't want me. I don't even mind your attempts to direct me, but you should continue to try to hide them. Other adepts won't be so kind if they detect such maneuverings directed toward them.”
“Then I am fortunate you’re my master,” he replied, “and my lover.” He walked close to her, stepped behind, and slid his hand down the front of her body, stopping just below her belly button where he exerted just the slightest push with his hand.
“You’re right, of course. You are fortunate you're my lover. If you weren't, I'd have burned you a hundred times over for your insolence. But you delight me with your little plots.” Merik leaned back into him. “You'll make a fine adept. If I let you live.”
“I pray to the gods that you do.”
Merik's arousal dropped away like stones in water. She whirled to face him. “The gods? The gods do not hold your fate as close as I do. Maybe you should pray to me.”
He stepped back, removing his hands from her body. “That's blasphemy, Merik. I respect the power of both you and the gods. I must please you and them if I am to be a worthy mate.”
“Oh, please, I've already chosen you. Flatter me like a woman, not like a freshly bleeding girl. I love you, Alarin. That is on your side. But don't take it for granted.” She stepped further away from him.
Merik moved to the shade, just inside the doorway of her veranda. Still, even in the shade, it was hot. Unusually so. They stood together quietly for several minutes as she sipped her wine. The tension of a pending argument fell away, and Merik spoke gently. “I neglect you sometimes, don't I? How often do you pray, Alarin?”
“Every day. In the temples if I can find the time.”
“Vannick of Lornith is a religious adept, such as you would be. It doesn't seem to have lessened his ability. Nor does it seem to have steered him away from making good decisions for self, province, or all of us who are gifted.”
“I believe the gods steer our paths, Merik. I believe that Vannick is a stronger adept for his faith and his allegiance to the guidance of the priesthood. I pray for guidance in doing what is right for the most people.”
Merik’s face wrinkled in derision. “Do you? That isn't my philosophy. I believe in doing what is best for Merik first. Second I do what is best for Alarin, because I love you. By doing what I believe is best for you and me, I do what is best for Zeffult. In doing what is best for Zeffult, I do what is best for all. Each adept should take care of their own. When that happens, all prosper. You'd do well to keep that in mind, Alarin. This Council isn't to benefit the other provinces, it is to benefit me, you, and Zeffult in that order. It is circumstantial that others will benefit by our actions, and the gods have nothing to do with it.”
“Does not such a graceful sequence of benefits speak to the orderliness of our creators? Even in being selfish, Merik serves the gods.”
“You're irritating me,” she growled.
He was undeterred. “It’s a divine plan. Our province is one of the wealthiest, which might be why the gods have made you most sensitive to the abominations above. They knew you'd not hesitate to call a council. The expense means little, your wealth is nearly boundless. Any reasonable test would start with the most powerful adept, don't you think?”
“More flattery,” Merik said dismissively.
“More truth. I do, however, think if you would attend the temples with me that your gift would grow even more.”
“I don't have time to serve your piety when I don't share it, even if I do love you. I have a province to rule.”
Alarin looked at Faroo in the sky, then at a carved timedial in the gardens below. “Speaking of time, we will see the demon soon.”
Merik despaired, but refused to show her weakness. “We schedule our days by the pain our gods inflict. Let's hope the Council takes action. I am not powerful enough to attack the demon alone.”
Alarin led her inside. “They will take action. They fear you.”
“We should lay down, and await our punishment from your loving gods.”
Merik and Alarin took facing couches, and looked at each other as the terror approached. For a while they discussed the routine issues of running Zeffult, but as time grew short they discussed the love they had for each other.
Merik hoped she wasn't screaming her fear to Alarin with her face or thoughts as he was to her.
Is his worry for me? I think it is.
The continuous assaults by the demon, day and night, wore the adepts thin. Interrupted sleep, the pain of the demon's passing, and the anticipation of its return bled Merik of her energy and will. Being the most powerf
ul adept, her agony was the greatest.
At first the sensation was a slight discomfort, and Merik sensed the demon rising above the southwest horizon. It climbed into the sky, an unholy terror slowly blotting out her power and rationality.
She felt the pain growing as the demon rose higher.
This passing it wouldn’t move directly overhead, but cross the northwest sky, until it would eventually pass back below the horizon in the northeast. It was close enough. There was no ability to think, no ability to reason, only pain. Shredding pulses in her head, alongside the sensation of having her essence ripped from her body, rose to a crescendo. Merik cried in agony, gripping her head as the beast consumed her.
At the demon's zenith, darkness engulfed her.
* * *
Sweat dripped into Merik's eyes, but the salty sting was insignificant compared to the throbbing within her head. She must have blacked out.
“Merik... Merik...”
That is a desperate voice.
Alarin. Oh, Alarin, my head is coming apart...
Alarin swabbed her forehead with a damp cloth. “I thought you were taken this time. You fell unconscious. I thank the gods for returning you to me.”
She lay her head back, feeling the energy flow into her as the effects of the demon passed. “Why do you pray for me, Alarin? The cruelty in me grows, as does my impulsive anger.”
“You are no more cruel than any other adept, and less than most. Most of the time you’re tender, and your love for me is undeniable.” He smiled. “And, as a bonus, I learn amazing things from you.”
She struggled to sit up, finally managing to sit on the edge of her divan, her head resting in her hands. “You are learning things from me, Alarin. That's what I told you earlier. You place your needs first and I benefit. It is the way.”
“That's how you see it. But it was not my needs I placed first.”
“Yet you pray for me so that I can return for your benefit.”
“I pray because... well, it doesn't matter. Would you like some wine?”
She nodded. “And I pray to the gods that the demon departs. It is the only prayer I have. It travels the skies like Yoro and Halvi, but those children of Jalai wreak none of the havoc this demon does.” Merik tossed her wine back with a gulp. “Where do Yoro and the demon go? The underworld? When the demon is overhead I’m nearly destroyed, and I can feel it feeding on me.” Merik held out her glass for more.
