AMNESIA

by Canada Jackson

  Think!

  “I...” her voice croaked, “I wanted to ask you...”

  He raised his brows.

  “Is there any… possibility… you would reconsider allowing people to take their pets?”

  He frowned in confusion. “Pets?” His deep voice rolled over her body and she quivered.

  Travis’s colleagues engaged Wrexel, taking the focus off her. He responded with interested politeness without saying another word about her question.

  Amber sighed with relief.

  Glad that he had acknowledged but written her off.

  Thank God. What next after dogs?

  Their rule was no animals.

  Idiot.

  The world would soon end, millions would die, and she had asked about pets. Stimulating conversation you’re offering a highly evolved being, she berated herself. She had embarrassed herself as James predicted. Wrexel seemed to have forgotten her presence already, nodding slowly in response to the discussion presented to him by an elder woman from the negotiating team. Amber ignored the glimmer of disappointment at her dismissal.

  He certainly beheld her with warm interest hours earlier.

  When your mouth had been firmly shut, she told herself.

  He must have been bored in the meeting room and her bright red shirt caught his attention. She decided this was the best time to escape from his side and she moved to the doorway of the transporter. She was clumsy, limbs shaking and off kilter, like she had forgotten how to walk.

  She wished she had the confidence of the other older, more experienced women in the room.

  She was too young for Travis and would never be woman enough for a man of his intellect and superiority. Her father had been correct about her coming and probably right that she had to work hard to keep a good man like Travis. Travis remained in deep conversation as Amber stood quietly at his side. As the discussion droned on, she had the sensation of being watched again and turned, hoping Wrexel would be looking her way and dreading it at the same time. He stood alone now and looked directly at her, almost summing her up with a slight frown upon his brow. It catapulted her back to how she felt at the meeting table. People around them and in front of them continued to speak, but the line of vision between them was uninterrupted. She was riveted to the spot, only moving with an involuntary jerk when he whispered something to her. His mouth moved as he repeated the word for her benefit.

  Amber’s body went warm as she recognized her own name on his lips and she shuddered with pleasure. Despite the dismissal, he had been listening when Travis introduced her. His slow smile returned, and she decided it was mocking. He knew that she was wildly affected by him!

  Amber cringed with dismay and embarrassment but before she could react, with a swish of his long dark cloak, he left. She exhaled partly in relief and mostly in regret. She was hopelessly out of her league. She hadn’t dated enough, or lived enough, to cope with the attention of the opposite sex in a normal manner. One of the girls from the neighbor’s pool would have taken this in stride. The girl would have enjoyed the few minutes of recognized mutual attraction, but moments like this always frightened Amber and left her feeling inadequate. She stepped up to the transporter and a Thromian she did not recognize came to her side. “Lord Wrexel will consider your request.” He delivered the message with no emotion.

  * * *

  She shared the Thromian’s message with Travis when they arrived home.

  “Oh. Don’t get your hopes up, Amber.” He looked embarrassed that she had bothered the leader with a suggestion already discussed in detail.

  “Do remember, dear, to always check with me before speaking at important engagements.”

  Amber then received the usual dreaded question.

  “Have you been keeping up your meds, no strange… occurrences?”

  She flinched, nodded, and left Travis, hoping he wouldn’t discuss her faux pas with her father. Hopefully, her upped dose would kick in soon and the part of her brain conjuring visions of the dead mother she had never met would shut down. Once Lilith disappeared from the air in front of her, Amber could pretend she wasn’t different and could fit back into the mold that was required of her. She slid onto her bed, glad to be alone and to lay on her pillow, closing her eyes to the vision of Lilith above her.

  “So, what do they look like?” Sam tiptoed into her room.

  Amber sat up with a smile, but put her finger on her lip. Sam wasn’t supposed to know anything.

  “Come on… just a hint,” she begged. “Green skin, lizard tongues?”

  “You’ve watched way too many sci-fi movies,” Amber whispered. “No, they look like elves with bulk.”

  “Handsome?”

  Amber gave a vigorous nod.

  She could be normal with Sam. She could say things that wouldn’t be seen as crazy and wouldn’t be corrected. “Very handsome.”

  Especially one.

  * * *

  A few days later, Amber stared at the floating vision of Lilith with dismay. If anything, the visions had increased. Lilith’s inane utterances and promises had become louder. She spoke of coming adventures, the rise of passion and, as always, reminded Amber of her important role.

  Amber considered visiting her therapist but told herself it was the anxiety related to the evacuation. Besides, she still grappled with her mother’s new habit of lighting up in a green hue. She was certain the therapist would recommend a home for the insane.

  Travis walked straight through the vision to her. “Amber, I have exciting news. Lord Wrexel has asked us to be part of a dinner on board his own personal ship tomorrow.”

  Amber’s heart somersaulted in her chest but Travis did not stop to take a breather, energized by the personal attention they were receiving.

  “He has invited only four or five of the senior members and their spouses.” He kissed her and gave her a hug as she sat down at the dinner table.

  The memory of Wrexel’s mocking smile and warm appraisal of her curves was still too raw, especially when she thought of her childish reaction – the reminders of everything she secretly wanted to feel and never would.

  “Travis, you go alone.” She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to voice her concern.

  “What?” He was aghast. “No, honey, do you realize what a privilege this is? Besides,” Travis took her hand, “it should please you to know that Wrexel said, ‘I need to impart news to your partner about her animal.’”

  Travis thought her idea a brilliant one now, of course.

  “I don’t like… Wrexel.” She opted for a bold-faced lie. She liked him a little too much! Travis didn’t notice the color on her cheeks or her fidgeting; he was too busy opening a bottle of champagne.

  “Honey, I realize they are a bit weird, but it’s not their intention. They are a highly evolved race with values different from ours. Do you know that their marriages can involve two or three people? A woman can have two husbands or a man two wives. They don’t relate on a level like we do and yet here they are, helping us to survive.”

  Amber frowned. She considered polygamy archaic, and polyandry had never even crossed her mind.

  Travis poured her a glass, and she accepted it with a grimace. He had mentioned their strange viewpoint on marriage before; it was part of the unease she felt about them. Their objective, distant view of love and relationships did not fit with their claims of universal kindness. They were so calculated in their demeanor, she found it hard to reconcile the spirit of humanity they seemed to want to preserve.

  “They tend to be rather cold.” Travis poured a second glass.

  Wrexel’s gaze hadn’t been cold.

  “Do you realize how fortunate we are to be in the NASA program, my love? You and our children will grow up in a world we can only imagine right now, with a father they can be proud of.”

  James joined them at this point and nodded as Travis greeted him. He dropped a cold kiss on her cheek.

  “I’m particularly fascinated by the tales of
this nation of watchers or guardians they call the Yimmyrd,” Travis confessed.

  “Why?” Amber asked.

  “According to the Thromians, Earth has always been under their protection. They sealed off any ability for the 104 to make contact, leaving us to evolve naturally, hoping each evolution would be better, only stepping in at the last minute to save us,” he reiterated.

  “Wrexel didn’t seem to know if they have made any appearances on Earth prior to this date, but their capacity to heal and to commune with the Creator or Source, as they call it, makes me think they may be Earth’s misconception of celestial beings or angels. Wouldn’t that be… incredible?”

  * * *

  Amber did not respond because her father took over, dominating the conversation as he usually did when it moved to anything that defied science.

  He launched into the theory that previous angel sightings on Earth throughout history had definitely been Yimmyrd Guards and that humanity had found ways to add the God factor.

  Amber pursed her lips. This was an ideal that would please him and his atheist stance, so he ignored the part where they did indeed claim to worship and be controlled by “a God.”

  She tempered down her feelings. She wasn’t overtly religious herself. Her father’s lifelong denial of anything linked with Adrsta, like Amber’s unexplained dreams, had caused a rift between them that had never healed.

  “Throm is the strongest and wealthiest of all the planets where we will soon live, but Wrexel says they are a federation and all planets do as the Yimmyrd Watchers command. Throm may be mighty in numbers and strength, but they bow their knee to their logic and law, as do the other seven inhabitants in the system, soon to be eight.” He lifted his glass to toast Rheese.

  “It’s pleasing, despite their claim of a Sacred being’s existence, that those who police their universe are fully logical,” James interjected.

  “Their claim? So you do not believe the Yimmyrd worship a Creator but you accept everything else you were told about them, like their ability to heal?” Amber knew her voice was on edge. Her father always found ways to diminish her, and she seldom had a chance to point out he didn’t know everything. When she did, he would look at Travis with the “check her dosage” glance.

  Travis interrupted the start of an argument by stating what he had heard. “Apparently they are perfectly fair beings, rational and able to judge so fairly that all the federated planets are happy to submit to their law.”

  Amber felt on edge; her fears about meeting with Wrexel again and the inevitable rise of turbulent emotions made her disagreeable.

  “Why haven’t we met one of these Yimmyrd? Don’t you think it’s odd they didn’t join the trip here? Sometimes I wonder if there is something remiss about them. Have you noted the disinterest in the human talks?”

  James raised telltale eyebrows at Travis and Amber flinched. Travis flashed him a look of warning and patted her hand consolingly.

  Crazy Amber.

  The situation became one she was grossly familiar with; an opinion coming from one who is flawed meant her opinion would never count.

  “I’m sorry.” She faked a smile. “I guess I am just young, idealistic, and sad about the ending of our Earth… I hope, Travis, you will not become bored and frustrated with me and my childish ramblings.” Her sarcasm was lost on them.

  James stood up. “That’s my cue to leave.” He looked pleased that Amber was reciting what he said to her when her relationship started with Travis.

  Try to measure up.

  “Honey, I know these are trying times.” Travis soothed her, kissed her forehead, and stroked her hair. “But all your feelings are very relevant. It’s best, however, to keep them to yourself.”

  She moved closer to him and told herself she enjoyed the embrace. Warm feelings of comfort were much better than feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

  “We all feel frustrated, sad, and guilty,” he continued. “We can chat more with the Thromians about the Yimmyrd warriors at dinner.”

  Ah, yes, the dinner.

  Another evening of having Wrexel unnerve her.

  “Travis, I...”

  What could she say? He looks at me inappropriately, or when I see him, I can’t stop thinking about things I shouldn’t?

  I lay all night thinking about him kissing me! I wondered what it would be like to have more of his attention.

  No.

  The problem was her, not Wrexel.

  On the ship in deep space, Whyle walked into Wrexel’s quarters and projected the directive they had received for them both to view.

  “A dinner party? Have you finally lost your fucking mind? Count me out, I have no interest.”

  Laughter rumbled in Wrexel’s chest. “Inndra said I needed to be more convincing of our concern about their cultural discussions.”

  “No, I believe he said it would please Shihlo if you actually did have an interest in their cultural discussions.”

  “I said I would relocate a colony. I’m doing that, don’t push me.” Wrexel lost his smile. “The dinner party is for the female. I find her… interesting.”

  His leer was cunning.

  “The head negotiator’s wife. God, Wrexel, why do you always have to cause trouble where there isn’t any? Besides, you’re a purist. Never known you to sniff around a colonial.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Wrexel grinned.

  Whyle sat down. “Can’t you wait another week until these humans find out what and who we are?”

  Wrexel shrugged. “That’s your job and Inndra’s. If your plan for quiet relocation fails, I will scoop up a handful and dump them on Rheese as first planned.”

  Whyle wasn’t in the mood to have this argument again.

  He pointed at the monitor on Wrexel’s desk. “Five unanswered Comms from the Yimmyrd council.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “You don’t think a viable explanation will buy us more uninterrupted time?”

  “You mean a well-orchestrated lie?” Wrexel snorted. “I don’t have the energy. Let them believe what they want. By the time they know the truth it will be too late. I have bigger concerns right now.”

  He reached for his monitor.

  “Bigger than pissing off the Yimmyrd?” Whyle asked.

  “They should have been more direct, or done the job themselves,” Wrexel shrugged. “They don’t want a war with us any more than we want one with them and right now they need us. With the Raks on lockdown, there’s nobody strong enough in the seven to really protect Diogel.”

  “They’re using Vergana and the Gweithi armies more and more,” Whyle pointed out.

  “For small attacks, if any of the big players in the 104 came out they can turn only to Throm. Even when the Raks were free, they chose us more often because we got the job done faster and without a hitch.”

  He reached for the controls for his monitor. “We have domestic issues that are more pressing than this bullshit evacuation.”

  Wrexel hit the communication button. “I found evidence this week that the Monarch has outdone himself in growing a personal army. As I told you and Shihlo, I don’t like it.”

  The surveillance he projected showed rows of crafts in the process of being built in a remote location. Red emblems emblazoned the sides of each vessel.

  “The Monarch’s guard, aka the Red army, meant to police Throm civilians.” Whyle shrugged. “They are one-tenth the size of yours.”

  “Indeed, but I would like to keep it that way. I can’t afford for the Monarch to equal me in might; it would give him an even stronger foothold to push for a return to autocratic rule,” Wrexel said.

  Whyle disagreed. “He would never be able to reach your army’s strength or Staede’s flying force. We are monitoring him. This field of ships has been under our surveillance. He is increasing his guard and offering more positions to Red supporters who want to remain loyal to the house of the king and still be in the air force or a
rmy. He is doing this only because his supporters are mostly civilian. This should not be a concern of yours.”

  He pointed at the blinking missed call indicator from the Yimmyrd on Wrexel’s desk. “The Monarch’s plans to confront the Yimmyrd are more troubling than his desire to take over Throm, which will never happen with the current constitution.”

  Wrexel’s gaze narrowed and Whyle ran his hands over his chin in exasperation. His cousin had a knack for stressing him out. “Wrexel, are you forgetting his goal to break the Yimmyrd source power? The sole reason why we are here taking what we require to survive from Earth is because of his last experiment. This is what we need to control, not a small army to show his personal might.”

  “We are fixing that problem, but this one will remain and grow,” Wrexel argued stubbornly. “Look at this… and this… and this…” He projected four more fields of the Monarch’s craft building for Whyle’s review.

  Whyle became uneasy. “When did you get this footage? There must be about a thousand crafts there at least.”

  “This morning, on a remote part of Lee.”

  Wrexel watched him carefully. “He managed to find some kind of cloaking so we didn’t pick it up.”

  Whyle frowned, moving closer to the projection.

  “Sad about the accident.” Wrexel still examined Whyle’s face.

  “What accident?” Whyle swung around.

  “This one.”

  As Whyle viewed the footage, one ship exploded, igniting the one next to it, and then a chain reaction set off, destroying all the ships in three out of the four located projections.

  Whyle paled.

  “While you and Shihlo play diplomat, Staede and I clean up the real threats.” Wrexel flipped off the visual.

  “Those ships were being built by Thromians, Wrexel, our own goddamn flesh and blood! You and Staede had no right to make a decision of this kind without consulting me and Shihlo.”