by Jon Chaisson
*
Father?
The voice of his youngest daughter filtered through the din of the Tower’s energy flow and hit Natianos unexpectedly from behind. He had been continuing his talk with Janoss and stopped midsentence, more surprised than inconvenienced by the interruption. Saone had interrupted him before like this, more often than not during important meetings and with trivial matters…but the urgency of her voice suggested otherwise. He finished with Janoss and sent him on his way, and retreated to his own office ten flights up.
Saone had taken it upon herself to prove her worth, if not to him then to her own conscience, by infiltrating the Moulding Warehouse with her own team. He worried about her. She always meant well, but she was woefully ignorant in situations such as this. She had never been the devout Shenaihu nuhm’ndah to the level her three older sisters were, stealthily integrating themselves into commerce and society. No, Saone had chosen to go it alone. She had to find her own way…and she had chosen anarchic resistance. She and Kryssyna — that Piramados tomboy, nothing but a bad influence on her — integrated themselves into the nearly dead underground movement of the McCleever-Waterfront corridor, and had gotten themselves mixed up with the Mendaihu. She knew a lot of citizens down there…but no politicians, no engineers, no intellectuals, where it counted.
Still, he played along to let her hopes up. It was the least he could do.
Father, she called again, her voice filling with anticipation and anxiety. He entered his office just as she called a third time, and was able to answer this time without interruption.
Saone, my dearest child, he answered. You sound distressed.
I’m fine, she said breathlessly. I’ve found a way in. I already have people in place.
Natianos shivered. He honestly had not expected her to fulfill this impossible mission, to capture the One of All Sacred. She might have been able to watch her, but capture? He already had spies at the warehouse, had sent them quite early in fact, and had fully expected this team to do most of the legwork. The most Saone would be able to do is distract. He hoped she would know enough to back away in time. He wanted this event to be as peaceful as possible. There was no telling what The One of All Sacred would do to them if it turned violent.
Stay where you are, he warned her.
You don’t trust me?
Since when did trust enter into this? Of course I trust you, Saone. You know that. But please, there are—
Let me do this, Dahné.
Her words had set him on edge so easily; if she had planned on attacking the Mendaihu at the source, the only outcome would be death. The death of nuhm’ndah spies, fighting what would essentially be a pointless battle. The death of Mendaihu volunteers under the mistaken idea that martyred victory was theirs. The death of his youngest child. And very possibly, the death of the One.
Saone, he called out, pleading to her. You’ve got to understand that this gathering does not concern you. This is a matter to be dealt with between the Shenaihu, the Mendaihu and the One of All Sacred. It is not revenge.
Saone did not answer right away. He made use of the quick silence to switch on the vidmat to scan for footage of the Waterfront. If anything happened down there this evening, he would want to see it. Especially now that Saone was lurking somewhere down there. He was able to log onto the same feed the Branden Hill ARU had linked into, four corner traffic cameras now focused solely on the warehouse.
Her voice entered again. But it does concern me, Dahné. More than you know.
She had taken pains to calm herself and understand his trepidation of her being there, and Natianos applauded her for it. But would she understand why this violent history was destined to repeat itself if these things kept happening? Nehalé Usarai had been terribly lucky in his first attempt to call the One of All Sacred to him at the church…and it was only by chance that Janoss and his team had inadvertently stopped him just before it was too late.
“Saone…” he said aloud, knowing she wouldn’t hear. “Be careful, my child.”
It is done, he said finally. That must have sated her, as she spoke no more, even when he called out to her. He admitted it wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for, but it would have to do for now.