by C H Gideon
“If none of that pans out,” Ka’nak said, waving to the beautiful terrain around them, “maybe Gorad and the others can turn this place into a tourist attraction or a vacation planet,” he told them.
Jiya glanced around at his suggestion, suddenly seeing the same thing. “That might just work, Ka’nak,” she told the Melowi warrior, grinning at him. “It would give the Telluride someone to serve without being owned by them and a purpose besides making the Grindlovians’ lives easier.”
She looked around further in the wake of that idea and realized it was a pretty damn good one.
The biggest issue would be the lack of Gate technology allowing people to pop in and out of the system easily and make use of the wide-open spaces and beauty.
Of course, having people visit created its own kind of problems.
Look at what happened when we showed up, Jiya thought. How would it be if millions of others did?
With each group of visitors bringing their own expectations as to what they would experience, Jiya could see Grindlevik 3 being dragged into even more chaos than had happened when the Reynolds arrived.
She didn’t want to be responsible for that.
Jiya would bring up the option, but she wasn’t going to push for it. She needed to better formulate the pros and cons.
Caught up in her thoughts, Jiya drifted away from Reynolds and the crew and drew closer to the Telluride.
They spoke of a variety of subjects, and Jiya was glad to hear the calm, peaceful tones in which they discussed things.
Their surroundings, the art of nature, had soothed them already. Even better than Jiya could have hoped. After a while, nightfall creeping toward them, she called a halt to the walk and gestured to the Telluride to gather around her.
“We’re going to stop here. Make camp for the night,” she told them all. “Get comfortable.”
The crew had made sure the Telluride had blankets and basic foodstuffs with them, enough to last them several days, and Asya had scanned the planet to forecast that the weather would be perfect for their journey.
As the Telluride laid out their blankets and settled in, Jiya watched them proudly. As much as they’d fidgeted and complained and argued in the dining hall, they had calmed immensely now that they were out in the wilderness.
Jiya could see hints of their uncertainty, but the Telluride really didn’t understand fear. They’d been protected by Gorad for as long as any of them could recall, and that made them oblivious to danger.
It was good that there were no predators, neither wild nor Grindlovian, to affect their rest.
A short distance from where they had camped, a freshwater creek burbled in the background alongside the chirp of birds and the squeaks of various small animals, all surprised and curious by the gathering in their forest.
The setting sun peeked through the canopy, casting dancing shadows over the assemblage.
Jiya had originally thought that it would be best to leave all technology at home but, remembering her attempts to teach the Telluride how to swim, she realized that would probably be a mistake.
Who wanted to introduce a campfire to people who had never had to cook food or worry about being warm?
“Not me,” Jiya muttered under her breath.
The last thing she needed was to have to extinguish a Telluride because he or she got too close to the fire.
“Before everyone gets too comfortable,” Ka’nak called, waving to get the Tellurides’ attention, “I’d like to introduce you to something that will help you think and strengthen your bodies.”
The crowd perked up and Jiya smiled, knowing it was more likely the thought of being physical that had gotten them excited than anything.
Still, whatever worked to get them all on the same page.
“Spread out and follow my example,” he said, stepping away so he could be seen.
Maddox and Reynolds began to set up lights for the gathering to see by.
Ka’nak dropped to his knees and leaned forward into a push-up position. The Telluride followed suit, and Ka’nak grinned. He started to work out, easing the Telluride into a program that lasted about an hour.
From push-ups, he segued to stretches, followed by sit-ups, then a variety of slow-paced lunges, finally moving into the familiar combat forms Jiya had seen the Melowi warrior practice a hundred times.
Unlike when he and Maddox had attempted to teach the Telluride to fight before, it was clear he was simply running through the basic katas and showing them how to control their breathing and thoughts.
Jiya looked out over the people and couldn’t help but smile. There was bliss on their golden features, eyes bright and interested.
“This was a great idea,” Reynolds told her, joining her after he’d finished with the lights.
“I have them on occasion,” Jiya joked.
“They seem to be settling in nicely,” Reynolds remarked with a smile. “How long do you think we’ll need to keep them out here?”
“I’d say a few days.” Jiya glanced at him. “Too soon and we risk undoing any good we might have accomplished. Too long, and they might think they’re being punished.”
Ka’nak finished the last of his exercises and told the people to stretch one last time before letting them go to their blankets to rest and recover.
Though the Telluride were a hearty people, born to work, the structured exercise on top of all the walking had clearly worn them out.
Which was what Jiya had wanted.
She’d seen her father’s soldiers go through similar training, and while she didn’t want to indoctrinate these people like his father’s commanders did, she knew it was beneficial that the Telluride be tired and more open to suggestion.
She stood up and took Ka’nak’s place in front of the Telluride. Tired eyes drifted her direction.
“We’ll stay here tonight and let you talk about everything that’s going on,” she told them. “My crew and I will remain out of it unless you have questions, which you can come to us with at any time,” she explained. “We’re here to help, but this decision and your future are on your shoulders. The decision is yours, and yours alone.”
As they had during the walk, the Telluride turned to one another and began to talk. Worn down just enough for their nervous energy to be reined in, they simply discussed what they wanted and how to go about getting it.
Jiya and the crew sat and listened as night fell, offering answers when something was brought to them and pointing out obvious fallacies in people’s arguments, but otherwise only watching. Simply showing their support and letting the Telluride work out their issues on their own.
The talks went on until late, the gathering slowly falling into slumber in sections until all the Telluride had huddled beneath their blankets and fallen asleep.
Jiya yawned, glancing at Maddox and Reynolds. Ka’nak had passed out hours earlier and was presently serenading them with snores.
“I’m ready to crash,” she announced, her eyelids fluttering, their weight becoming too much to defy.
“I’ll keep watch,” Reynolds assured her.
Maddox chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He rolled over and was asleep not more than a few seconds later, lifelong military training giving him the unnatural power of sleeping anywhere at any time.
Reynolds patted Jiya on the shoulder as she laid down. “You did good,” he told her.
She muttered, “Thanks,” and rolled over.
Reynolds whispered something she couldn’t understand and then she was out, blackness washing over her.
Chapter Seventeen
The days flew by, to Jiya’s surprise, but finally the crew and Reynolds returned to town with the Telluride in tow.
They were, to Jiya’s surprise, an almost completely different people than when they’d left.
Though she’d expected a measure of evolution, her own walkabouts having always given her a clarity unparalleled by anything else in her life, she was taken aback by just how
much the Telluride had enjoyed the trip and had embraced its trials, such as they were.
Ka’nak had trained the people both morning and night, helping exhaust them and bring them a peace that plastered smiles on their faces.
And while smiles were not unusual for the Telluride, Jiya had realized there had been a certain amount of intention behind them before, now that she saw the real thing.
The Telluride had been fairly happy before the superdreadnought had come, but they hadn’t truly understood what happiness was. Now they did, and the expressions on their faces reflected that.
They strode into town with their heads held high, hands joined and voices raised. They had come home with understanding.
Instead of meeting in the dining hall when they got back, Jiya had insisted they meet somewhere outside. L’Willow agreed and directed them to a clearing near the center of their part of town.
Beautiful murals covered the walls around the spacious area, and a fountain sparkled. Telluride spoke quietly but unrestrainedly as the group filed into the clearing and gathered, waiting for discussions to continue.
“They look…different,” Gorad said. He arrived on foot, eschewing his normal mode of transportation, and came over to stand by the crew.
“They are different,” Jiya assured him.
“All of you are,” Reynolds noted, implying Gorad’s announcement of cooperation and contribution. “Things are changing.”
“And with change comes uncertainty,” Gorad said.
“Of course it does,” Reynolds replied. “That’s part of it. Change needs motivation, and worry and fear push it along.”
“I’m not sure I want my people subjected to either of those,” Gorad told the other AI.
“They come along regardless,” Reynolds retorted, shrugging. “Can’t avoid them forever, Gorad.”
“Your people need to make decisions for themselves,” Jiya jumped in. “You can only hold their hands for so long.”
“I know,” Gorad replied, but Jiya wasn’t completely sure he did know.
The hesitancy on his android face spoke of his own fear, which Jiya knew all too well.
She’d had that same fear when she’d run away the first time and the countless times after that. As much as she felt she needed her freedom to be herself, there was a large amount of uncertainty that spoke of what would happen if she failed.
How would she survive, where would she go?
Those were questions that the Telluride were beginning to contemplate, but Gorad was too.
Jiya knew that separating the two species wasn’t the entirety of the issue here. They would need to find a new role for Gorad as well—one that made him feel wanted and needed, or he’d crack up like Reynolds had on his long journey.
AI or not, both of them needed people around to make them more real and substantial.
Make them feel alive.
L’Sofee strolled up as Jiya pictured a post-Reynolds Grindlevik 3. The Telluride leader offered a nod of greeting to the crew and the AIs.
“We have decided…” she started, and Jiya held her breath, “that we will go off on our own. Most of us, at least.”
Gorad sighed, although Jiya knew he had suspected that would be their choice. “I understand,” he replied, his android shoulders slumping at the news.
“However,” L’Sofee went on, “we understand that we are not ready to face the world alone just yet.”
Gorad straightened. “No?”
L’Sofee shook her head. “There is much we must still learn; much we need to know before we can be self-sufficient or anything close to it,” she explained. “We are determined we will learn what we need to know.”
She offered a gentle smile to Gorad.
“Until such time, we would be honored to remain here on Grindlevik 3 under your care and protection.”
“I accept,” Gorad replied, smiling.
L’Sofee’s next words, however, dimmed that smile.
“We cannot, however, continue on as things have been,” she told him. “There need to be changes instituted that protect our decision to be independent and keep the Grindlovians from lording their presumed position above us.”
Gorad nodded. “These are things we can do,” he promised.
“Then we are ready to face the Grindlovians and apprise them of our decision,” L’Sofee announced.
Gorad nodded his agreement without hesitation, even though Jiya had seen his own uncertainty welling in his eyes.
She patted him on the back and smiled at the AI after L’Sofee went back to her people to get them ready.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Jiya told him.
“It does not soften the blow of their leaving, though,” the alien AI admitted.
“You’re not being abandoned,” Reynolds assured him. “These people will need generations to prepare to stand on their own. They will be here for a very long time, and by then, who knows what changes will have happened and how many will actually leave when given the chance? Saying one wants to travel is far different from walking out the door.”
“They might ultimately decide to stick around,” Jiya added, shrugging. “You never know with people.”
“And until that decision is made, you’ll have your hands more than full dealing with everything,” Reynolds told the other AI, laughing. “You’re likely going to wish they’d packed up and left sooner if my experiences with people are any guide.”
Jiya growled. “Hey! We’re right here.”
“Yes,” Reynolds shot back. “Yes, you are. All the time.” He smiled.
L’Sofee had the crowd up and moving by then, and the crew followed them as they made their way toward the designated meeting place with the Grindlovians.
“We’re on our way,” Jiya reported over the comm.
Geroux came back a second later. “We’re here and ready…more or less.”
“Your answer makes me nervous,” Reynolds told the young tech.
“Well, me and my uncle have been working with these people while you were gone, but they are pretty high-strung,” she told them. “I really think they are afraid, but too damn stubborn to admit it, even to themselves.”
“Not surprising,” Reynolds replied. “This change affects them far more than it does the Telluride. The Grindlovians have physical factors to overcome as well as mental. The Telluride largely only have the latter.”
“Both have a lot to learn before either can be truly independent,” Jiya added.
With that mission statement hanging in the air, the mass of Telluride arrived at the designated meeting place.
Jiya was amazed to see just how many Grindlovians there actually were.
Most had been too apathetic before or refused to bother coming outside, but the whole population of them had mustered for this grand meeting between the two races.
They came together in silence and stared across the open space between them.
Jiya sighed, hoping that divide was nothing more than opportunity awaiting, but she knew better than to be too hopeful.
There was going to be a fight ahead.
She, the rest of the crew, Reynolds, and Gorad made their way into the open area between the two groups. L’Sofee and her closest allies stood in front of the Telluride, and Fulla Sol and the council sat in their podium chairs in front of the Grindlovian assemblage.
Both groups stared at each other, neither side giving anything away with their stoic expressions.
Fulla Sol’s first question, however, made it clear that the problems between the two groups had yet to be fully resolved, even after time apart.
“So, have you come to tell us you are leaving our service?” the councilwoman asked.
Jiya groaned. So much for pleasant negotiations.
“We have,” L’Sofee returned, though the fire in her voice was far less than that in Fulla Sol’s. “But the decision is not as simple as us leaving,” she added.
“Isn’t it?” Fulla Sol asked.
L’So
fee shook her head. “Not all of our people wish the same as the rest,” she admitted. “Some would be content remaining here indefinitely, serving you and themselves, but there is more to it than that.”
Fulla Sol smiled as if she were winning a battle. “So, some of your people prefer the old system, do they?”
“No, not exactly,” L’Sofee replied. “They are just more willing to accept their lot.”
Fulla Sol went to say something but L’Sofee raised a finger, cutting the councilwoman off. “That does not mean, however, that we will allow these people to be taken advantage of. That is a large part of what we must discuss here today.”
“You would make demands of us?” Vor Stygn asked, sneering.
“We have…expectations,” L’Sofee clarified.
“As do we,” Fulla Sol told her.
“Then our goal is to meet in the middle of those and create a situation that benefits both parties.”
“Our current situation does benefit us both,” Fulla Sol shot back. “Return to your service at our sides, and all will be forgiven.”
Jiya groaned at hearing that.
Fortunately, neither side was much for violence. Had this happened on Lariest, the story would be very different.
L’Sofee stiffened. “That will not happen,” she assured the councilwoman.
Voices on both sides rose then, both in opposition and acceptance. It took Gorad triggering the community comm system and shouting over it to quiet them down.
“Enough!” he screamed, shaking his head. Jiya could see the disappointment in his face. He’d clearly hoped for a peaceful resolution, even if he hadn’t expected one. “This fighting is getting us nowhere.”
L’Sofee took advantage of the quiet to press her point. “We Telluride, no matter our manner of service, will only assist the Grindlovians if we are viewed as equals.”
Fulla Sol laughed in her face, and the two factions erupted into shouts and accusations once again.
“How about I start thumping one from each side in the head until they see reason?” Ka’nak asked.
Reynolds looked ready to agree, but Jiya snarled at both of them.
“Just a suggestion,” Ka’nak told her, taking a step back from her angry glare.
