Tif knew she wasn’t the first to notice the similarities between kaal and chah’nas. Each were six-limbed and four-eyed, but there the similarities ended. Kaal were huge, half the size again of even large humans, in height and girth. Their homeworld had nearly 2.5 Gs, and they’d evolved accordingly — multiple thick limbs for support, huge muscles about a strong skeletal structure, and a slow, lumbering gait when walking.
They’d been tavalai allies for as long as anyone could remember, due in large part to the difficulties of getting off the kaal homeworld. Kaal had been quite advanced when tavalai had found them, but still unable to venture into space, thanks to the punishing physics of their native gravity-well. Tavalai had given them the stars, and once there, kaal had proven themselves brilliant engineers, inspiring the tavalai to build larger and larger structures, and teaching them much of their current famous ability. Kaal had remained unmolested for most of the Machine Age, in large part due to their planet-bound status rendering them, in the machines’ eyes, an impotent threat. But once in space, they’d become the tavalai’s most reliable ally, and fought with them in nearly every conflict since.
Humans had found kaal a limited threat in the Triumvirate War, thanks to their ineffectual slowness in infantry combat, and kaal had rarely fought in that manner. But in space combat their heavy-G bodies turned slowness into speed, as their fast, mobile ships had pulled G-stress that only the alo could match. As a species, kaal were reputed to be as gruff and impassive as they appeared, with a frequent taste for violence and contests of strength. But Tif had also heard that amongst each other, kaal could be quite affectionate. Certainly their species-bond to the tavalai was so fanatical, it looked to her like its own type of love.
Toumad spoke, gesturing to the humans. “The offer I spoke to you of,” his translator offered.
Ensigns Pratik and Lee, and Second Lieutenant Hale, removed the veil from their faces. The kaal’s four eyes narrowed slightly, a displeased expression. He stuck a thick finger back in his jar, and pushed some foul-looking sludge into his mouth. Kaal had only small teeth, and ate mostly pastes, Tif recalled. Something to do with heavy-G digestion, no doubt. Ironic to first meet one here, floating gracefully in no gravity at all.
“Who?” the kaal growled, via his translator.
“UFS Phoenix,” Hale replied.
The kaal snorted, and made a dismissive gesture with two unoccupied hands. “Don’t need this nonsense. Go away.”
He’d heard of Phoenix, then. By this stage, Tif guessed most of the Spiral had. “Rejecting this business,” Toumad told him, “will effect other business.” With meaning.
The kaal stared longer, sucking on his paste-covered finger as he considered that. “What business?” he said finally.
“A heavy descender,” said Hale. “And a crew. A covert mission.”
“Don’t need covert business,” the kaal snorted. “Go away.”
“And enough money that you can retire for life, and live rich, if you like,” Hale added.
Again the long, thinking pause from the kaal. Another long suck of a paste-covered finger. Tif could smell the paste now, and it was foul. “What kind of money?”
“Family Debogande money,” said Hale.
That got the kaal’s attention. Human families and politics got little enough attention in this part of the Spiral, but anyone hearing about the UFS Phoenix would also be hearing all about Family Debogande. “Family Debogande pay for this job?”
Hale nodded. “Yes. Kantovan System. Kamala moon.”
“Kamala impossible. Moon atmosphere like tenth hell. Go away.” But his enormous body language gave no indication now that he actually wished them to go away. Tif began to suspect that it was a kaal figure of speech.
“I was told that you built and modified the best heavy descenders in the Spiral,” Hale said evenly. Tif knew that Remy Hale’s family worked in real estate. Perhaps she’d acquired some of this negotiating prowess from them. No doubt Captain Debogande would not have sent Phoenix’s second-highest engineering officer if she didn’t have some skills at this. “Perhaps I heard incorrectly?”
“You hear right,” the kaal grunted. “Covert business. Covert against who?”
“Tavalai State Department.”
“No take covert business against tavalai authority,” the kaal snorted, and this time seemed to mean it. “Go away.”
“This covert business is sponsored by tavalai Fleet,” said Hale. “Tavalai Fleet, that fought side-by-side with kaal in the Triumvirate War, and many wars before. Fleet does not like State Department causing so many tavalai and kaal to die in stupid wars. State Department keeps secrets from tavalai Fleet. Tavalai Fleet wants those secrets. The secrets are in a secure vault, at the bottom of Kamala’s atmosphere. Phoenix is going to retrieve them for tavalai Fleet.”
If ever there was a time for a no-nonsense kaal engineer to tell the silly human to go away, it was now, confronted with the scale of what was being proposed. But the kaal just looked at Hale, eyes half-lidded, many calculations zooming through his thick but very intelligent head. Finally, he turned a ponderous glance upon Toumad, questioningly.
Toumad nodded. “Human speaks the truth. You know it’s truth. What she proposes is impossible without tavalai Fleet.”
“In Kantovan System, yes,” the kaal grumbled. “Impossible.” He turned his big head back to Hale. “Crew take big risk. Expensive.”
“Not to Family Debogande,” Hale said firmly.
“Land at Kamala vault. How?”
“We’re developing a plan. Top Phoenix and tavalai Fleet officers.” The kaal looked unimpressed. “There is an inspection station. A customs gateway, an atmospheric city, above the densest clouds of Kamala.”
“I heard of this place. All inspectors State Department tavalai. No like humans, no admit humans. Inspect descender, find hidden crew.”
“We’ll get to the inspection point on two ships,” Hale explained. “Inspection first, on your descender. Then we move hidden team inside. After the inspection.”
“No killing,” the kaal growled, with a big finger raised for emphasis. “No kill tavalai, not even State Department. Not even for tavalai Fleet.”
“No killing,” Hale agreed. Tif knew she had no way of guaranteeing that. She wondered to what extent kaal understood dishonesty. “We promise.”
“Descender still have pilot crew. Will be present for inspection.”
“Your crew,” Hale told him. “Hire crew. Rich crew, once we’re finished. And one Phoenix pilot, to be sure.”
“No human pilot,” the kaal disagreed, loudly. “Human barely allowed in tavalai space. State Department space? No chance.”
“Not human,” said Hale. “Kuhsi.” She pointed at Tif.
The kaal drift-turned to consider her for the first time. The heavy head and jaw were scaly in part. Looking at him was like looking at a rock, some stone-demon from Tif’s childhood tales, brought to life off a mountain side. “Kuhsi, pilot? Experienced?”
“Very experienced,” said Hale. “But co-pilot on a descender. I hear they take a lot of practise.”
“Female kuhsi?” said the kaal, with surprise as he figured it out. “Female kuhsi no fly. Female kuhsi cook.”
Tif knew a calculated insult when she heard one. It sounded like a challenge. She flexed her hands and fingers, extending all six claws to their full extent. She doubted they’d do more than scratch a kaal’s hide, but most other species had to be more careful. And she bared her teeth, ears flat, and hissed at him.
The kaal laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle that never reached his face, but set his shoulders and chest bouncing. “So,” he said. “Kuhsi co-pilot. Come, we go gravity rim. Talk this proposal some more.”
“No go away?” Hale pressed, with mischief.
“No go away,” the kaal agreed with amusement. “Or no go away yet, tiny human.”
Lisbeth sat curled in a comfortable chair upon her enormous balcony. The apartment behind her was also e
normous, with wide, sliding doors onto the balcony, veiled by silk curtains that drifted in the warm breeze. Lisbeth read a large paper book, spread in her lap, the glasses on her face translating parren symbols into English ones as they followed the gaze of her eyes.
Occassionally her eyes left the book to look upon the vast courtyards. Even in the late morning, they were endlessly active. In the early morning they’d been full of parren in their thousands, mostly black-clad Domesh, arranged in ranks with military precision, performing calisthenics and martial arts. About them had flowed the runners, in great, snaking lines. Eventually the two would change, the runners halting in lines to begin calisthenics, while the previously-ranked would begin their run.
In the green garden corridors that divided vast swathes of paving, other activities were underway. Lisbeth glimpsed smaller groups of parren, seated, perhaps meditating. Others carried sheets of canvas, and easles. Insects shrilled in the building heat of morning, and the breeze that had been cool was now warm. The further reaches of the endless paved expanse began to shimmer, swimming with heat haze. In the blue sky above, birds circled on building thermals.
So this was the great and mysterious parren kingdom, Lisbeth thought to herself. Back on Homeworld, she would have given anything for the chance to travel and see it in person. Well, almost anything. Certainly she’d not have chosen this manner of travel. But now that she was here, she figured she should make the most of things.
One of Lisbeth’s maids interrupted her reading to place a tray upon the low table before her. Upon it were small bowls of light foods — a little vegetable salad, a bite of a small roll, a piece of sliced meat about some rice-like grains, held in place with a small spike. Lisbeth could certainly see the appeal of being held hostage by the parren instead of the tavalai. To be sure, tavalai would never kill a hostage… nor probably even take one in the first place. But for food such as this, her stomach felt it was worth it.
“More food at mid-morning?” Lisbeth asked the maid, placing aside her book.
“It is late morning,” said the maid’s translator. “This meal is Tovanah. A light course, in preparation.” In preparation for the next meal, Lisbeth thought with a smile, leaning forward to take one of the bowls. Parren ate their small snacks with fingers, then washed in the finger bowl on the tray. The maid moved an insense burner from the balcony railing to the table, filling the air with sweet scent. It kept the bugs away, Lisbeth gathered.
“What is your name?” Lisbeth asked the maid.
“Semaya,” the maid replied. Like all high-class parren, Semaya was impossibly graceful. Her robes were light and silken, of subtle blues and greens, and tasteful jewellery on her wrists and ankles. Unlike the Domesh of this temple, she did not wear black, and made no attempt to cover her appearance. Slender and utterly hairless, Lisbeth thought her very beautiful, in that ethereal, alien way of her people.
“And you are Togreth?” Lisbeth pressed.
“Yes,” said Semaya. That was rare. Most of her maids had not answered direct questions, in the four days she’d been here. Perhaps something had changed. Or perhaps she’d been asking the wrong ones, unable to tell who was the most senior. Perhaps that was Semaya.
“Will you sit with me?” Lisbeth asked, gesturing a chair opposite. “I have many questions.” Semaya inclined her head gracefully, and folded her willowy limbs into the chair. Lisbeth smiled, uncaring that it was not a very parren thing. She doubted that any amount of immitation would encourage these people to consider her one of them. “How does one become Togreth?”
As far as Lisbeth had figured out, the Togreth were like the House Harmony civil service. Everyone else belonged to a denomination within the House, but the Togreth were neutral, and treated all denominations as equals. Or, at least, that was the theory.
“There are many trials,” said Semaya. “When one is newly phased, one can choose one’s denomination. The most scholarly may apply to become Togreth.”
“Oh, so you’ve studied?” Lisbeth asked with enthusiasm. “I’ve only just completed my own studies in Engineering. Starship engineering in particular. I was nearly at the top of my class.”
Semaya inclined her head. “It is good. Togreth are drawn from all studies. My own are the great works and histories.”
“A historian!” said Lisbeth. “I should like to learn some parren history. I’m afraid my current knowledge is woefully poor.”
“My knowledge of human history also,” said Semaya. Lisbeth wondered how that could be true, given the last thousand years of human history had radically reshaped the Spiral. But she had more pressing things to learn, and thrust the urge to chat aside.
“This is the Domesh Temple?” Lisbeth asked. “How old is it, and the Kunadeen?”
“This version of the Kunadeen Complex is nearly nine thousand years old,” said Semaya, with the cool grace of a tour guide reciting long-repeated facts for an ignorant tourist. Nine thousand parren years, Lisbeth thought… so nearly seven thousand humans ones.
“This version?” she interrupted.
“The Kunadeen Complex has been destroyed three times. Once when the machines fell, and once again at the end of the Parren Age, at the hands of the Chah’nas. And a third time, in the Age of House Acquisition.” Another of the parren internal House wars, Lisbeth thought as she took vegetable salad from the small bowl with her fingers. “Following the third destruction, Kunadeen was left in ruins while a new ruling complex was constructed for House Harmony in Trasirtis System. It lasted for five thousand years, before the seat of Harmony power was returned here to Prakasis, and the Kunadeen was rebuilt anew.”
“And the Denomination Temples,” said Lisbeth, pointing to the huge trapezoids that dotted the many kilometers of paving and garden partitions. “Have there always been ten?”
“There has been debate,” Semaya admitted. “Denominations come and go, while temples last far longer. The Harmony leadership is reluctant to allow more than ten temples in the Kunadeen, yet currently there are fifteen notable denominations. The mathematics are not always conducive.”
“I saw recent construction here,” said Lisbeth. “On the one occasion I was allowed out for a walk.” She hoped that the resentment survived through the translator. “How new is this Domesh Temple?”
“It is not yet completed,” said Semaya. Aha, thought Lisbeth. She’d thought it looked new, whatever its ancient stylings. “An old temple of the Tahrae stood on this very spot, but was destroyed long ago, when the Tahrae fell. These foundations have been left unbuilt since that age, yet the rise of the Domesh gave rise to this new temple, upon that very foundation.”
“That sounds… controversial,” Lisbeth suggested.
Semaya’s indigo eyes flicked to someone past Lisbeth’s shoulder. Lisbeth looked, and saw a Domesh warrior, in black robes and veil, hovering near. Timoshene, she thought. He was her tokara, her personal guardian in this place. Exactly what that meant, she was still not clear. “Yes,” Semaya answered, with graceful diplomacy. “Quite controversial. The Incefahd Denomination were quite opposed. And still are.”
The Incefahd were the ruling denomination in House Harmony. Lisbeth did not need to be a great parren scholar to sense that relations between them, and the Domesh, were extremely tense. “And the Incefahd fear that the Domesh will supplant them? Take over the rulership of House Harmony?”
“Yes,” said Semaya.
“And is there trouble here?” Lisbeth pressed. “Between Domesh and Incefahd?”
“Between Domesh and many,” said Semaya. “The Domesh gain followers faster in the flux. Soon they will be dominant. Domesh interpretations of the great teachings of harmony are controversial. The other denominations suggest they are… antiquated.”
“Some people consider that a compliment,” said Lisbeth, with a glance back at Timoshene. Timoshene said nothing, a watchful black sentinel.
“Indeed,” said Semaya, with a graceful incline of the head. “The human comprehends well.”
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br /> “And why was I brought here? I mean, I’d have thought, if you were going to kidnap someone, you’d keep them quietly, and not… I don’t know… parade me around for everyone to see.” She could not keep some of the frustration and contempt from her voice.
Semaya looked faintly puzzled. “All denominational affairs are ruled by the Kunadeen. This is the seat of power for all House Harmony. One does not defy the Kunadeen.”
Which meant that kidnapping was normal, and legal, Lisbeth thought. She’d thought as much, and now had it confirmed. “You have no laws against kidnapping innocent people? To blackmail their brothers?”
Semaya’s puzzlement faded. “No,” she said coolly. “It is within House law, for millennia. The Domesh gain status with your presence. To gain a hostage of status is worthy. To gain an alien of such status as UFS Phoenix provides, is a thing indeed.” She rose gracefully back to her feet. “But I must return to my duties. Peace unto you, my lady.”
“One more question, please,” said Lisbeth, and Semaya paused in the middle of a graceful gesture. “Him.” She indicated Timoshene, standing behind. “He is my Tokara? What does he do, exactly? He’s barely spoken a word, and will not answer questions.”
“Understand, my lady,” Semaya said sweetly. “The Domesh Denomination has many enemies, inside and outside of House Harmony, and you will have many guards while you are here. Most would like to see this alliance between the Domesh and the UFS Phoenix fail. Your life gives leverage over Phoenix. Your death will break it.”
Lisbeth took a deep breath, and gazed out at the shimmering courtyards. “I thank you for telling me.”
“And,” said Semaya, in final parting, “should your brother fail in his mission, or displease the Domesh in any way? Your Tokara is charged to be the one who will end your life.”
Kantovan Vault (The Spiral Wars Book 3) Page 20
