Integration

by A. C. Ellas

Loki looked around. Corpses littered the ground but not as many as there should be. As he watched, the roots encircled a corpse and pulled it under. He understood. He backed away, glancing at the trees warily. The gaps between the trunks were large again. He slid out of the grove and took stock. Both shuttles were parked beside the grove, and a tarp had been spread on the ground between them. Xieri was crouched beside the unconscious marine, doing some of the arcane medical things he’d been trained in.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the others and walked slowly around the perimeter. Peripherally, he was aware of Raki and Riko doing the same thing. The rest knew to leave them alone. Once Loki felt calm, he turned back to the tarp and padded over.

  “Good work,” said a familiar voice. Loki turned to face the subcommander, gratified by the lack of hostility in the man’s scent.

  “Thank you, sir,” he replied.

  Kenison handed him a water bottle. “You look like you need this.”

  Loki could only nod. He took a long drink. His limbs were trembling with exhaustion, and all he wanted to do was find a cool patch of ground to lay out on. Of course, that could be fatal on this planet.

  Lyto was kneeling on the edge of the tarp with his probe pressed into the soil. “I think we can safely say that the plant-life killed the colony. Once the people were gone, it wouldn’t take the grasses and trees long to pull down anything we built and cover it all back over.”

  “Why did the trees let us out?” Loki asked.

  “I think because they were sated. You killed over two hundred of those things. That’s a lot of blood, a lot of meat.” Lyto looked up and shrugged. “Or the shuttles scared them. It’s hard to know for certain without having an earth talent here.”

  “Earth talent?” Kenison asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a rare type of psionic ability,” Tito said. “If Yeraki was here, he could tell us what that grove is thinking.”

  “Yeraki is an earth talent,” Lyto added quickly before Kenison could say anything else. “It’s such an odd talent it’s hard to describe, but he was able to predict the weather days in advance, sometimes he could even direct storms. He could also sense the earth, predict earthquakes, that sort of thing.”

  “Plants grew better when he was around,” Loki mused. “He didn’t have to do anything to make them grow, he just had to be nearby. So maybe he could tell us what is going on here. If the captain allows it, I can send him our data.”

  Kenison shrugged. “I doubt admiralty will be so keen on that idea, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” He looked from Loki to Riko and Raki. “You three need to see Xiereko once he’s done with Stevenson. Get your fuzzy butts on the shuttle.”

  Fuzzy butts? Loki exchanged an amused glance with Raki before he padded to the lift. Xieri had taken the marine up a few minutes prior, so Loki assumed the man was okay. Now that the adrenaline had faded, it was all he could do to remain upright as the lift took them up to the shuttle’s hatch. The worst of the pain was centered in his feet. Once he was on the shuttle, he gingerly lifted his feet, one by one, and looked at the soles—the bottoms of his feet were excoriated and even sluggishly bleeding in places. Then, he went to see Xiereko.

  * * * *

  Cai slipped into the room where the group had assembled. They’d put out a ship-wide announcement inviting all players, but Cai was uncertain of his reception. Although he had facilitated the incipient ensemble by providing a place for them to meet, Astrogators and crew usually didn’t mingle. There were reasons for that, of course.

  He was the last to arrive, by design. Most of the people were already setting up their instruments as he walked up. He cleared his throat gently, attracting instant attention.

  Clark Johanson shot to his feet. “Sir? Is something wrong? Are we not permitted to be here? I thought—”

  “This is where you’re supposed to meet,” Cai interjected before the man could work himself into a frenzy. He lifted his violin case. “Your invitation was an open one.”

  There was a strained quality to the silence as if they wanted to refuse him and dared not.

  Veloki broke the silence before it became uncomfortable. “I play violin, too.” He gestured to the empty seat beside him. “Please join us.”

  Clark nodded, belatedly, but acceptingly. “Yes, please join us.”

  Cai slipped into the circle of chairs and stopped beside Loki. He felt comfortable around the Rovania, far more than he did around his fellow man. But he hadn’t played in so long he’d decided to make an effort to join the group despite the discomfort it might cause.

  As he took out his violin, he asked, “Are you feeling better, Loki?”

  “Yes, sir,” the Rovani replied, glancing at him sideways. “None of the cuts were deep, and they’re not infected.”

  “Good.” Cai turned his attention to tuning his instrument. “Call me Cai. None of us are on duty.”

  Loki raised his eyebrows then shrugged a shoulder. “As you wish.” He looked to the others.

  Peter cleared his throat. “What shall we start with? Do we have any music in common?”

  “I’m guessing we all know the Space Corps anthem,” Clark replied. He looked at Lisa. “Give us the beat?”

  The young lady nodded once then tapped the rim of her drum three times before the sticks hit the drumskin. Cai and Loki set their bows to the strings, and within moments, everyone was playing. They played the anthem through twice then found a few space songs they all knew, and from there, they introduced each other to other space ditties, drinking songs, even jigs and reels. By the time half an hour had passed, the rest of the group was relaxed around Cai, and by the time they wrapped it up for the night, they were treating him as one of them.

  As they were putting their instruments away, Tsandriko padded in. He nodded to everyone but made a beeline for Veloki and handed him a small case. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Veloki opened the case and studied the contents. “Excellent, there’s enough for everyone.”

  “What is it?” Lisa asked, cocking her head at them.

  “Music files. We don’t insist that this music be used, but enough people have expressed an interest that we made copies.” Loki passed the data cubes around. “It’s sheet music mainly, with corresponding audio clips.”

  Cai took one and held it between two fingers. “Yeraki’s music?”

  “Yes, sir,” Riko said. “If we’d known you played, we’d have given you the sheet music when we gave you the audio files.”

  “Excellent, thank you.” Cai pocketed the cube. He nodded to the group. “Next week, same time?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Clark replied. Everyone else was quick to chime in their agreement.

  “Have a pleasant evening,” Cai told them and headed for the door. Loki and Riko fell into step with him. He glanced at Loki. “Providing me an escort?”

  Loki grinned. “Yes.”

  “It’s one of our duties,” Riko said smoothly.

  Predictably, Tsandraki was waiting in the corridor. He fell into step with them. “Good evening, Astrogator.”

  “Hello, Raki. I wondered when you’d pop up.” Cai refrained from shaking his head. He didn’t need an escort, but it made him oddly happy to have the Rovania with him.

  “We do come as a set,” Raki told him.

  “They’ve been inseparable since birth,” Loki muttered. “Rumor had it that the Breedmasters were even planning to sell them together.”

  “Not a rumor,” said Riko.

  “That was the plan,” finished Raki.

  “They told us.”

  “When we were twelve.”

  “But none of you were sold, right?” Cai glanced from one to the other.

  Loki shook his head. “My year cohort was held back from auction because of the unrest. The massacre occurred a few months after I should have been sold and wasn’t. Riko and Raki were in the year behind mine. We fled to America before they would
have gone to auction. So none of us had a chance to prove ourselves in the arenas.”

  “Is that important?”

  “Yes,” all three of them said in the same breath. Loki waved the other two to silence and expanded on the answer. “Fighting in the arenas is how we proved ourselves superior, how we earned the right to become studs once we were old enough. The Breedmasters only accepted the best of the best—all the studs were either arena champions or would have been if they’d competed in the championship series. Not all owners would risk the championship since it was all death matches.”

  “I see. So, what will they do now? The gladiatorial games no longer exist.”

  “We know,” said Riko.

  “That’s why we’re all signing up,” said Raki.

  “The council will consider time in the service as equivalent to the arenas,” Loki told him. “They will give more weight to time in the Space Corps and the Marines.”

  Cai shook his head. “That’s clever of your council.” It explained why so many young Rovania were joining up. He’d heard there were a bunch of them in the academy already, too. “Why didn’t you go to the academy? You’re certainly smart enough.”

  “My training was done. I didn’t want more schooling, I wanted to do things.” Loki shrugged. “I fought for five years in the war, so did Riko and Raki. Going back to school after that?” He shook his head.

  “School is for gatakia,” Raki said.

  “We aren’t gatakia,” Riko said.

  “Gatakia?” Cai found himself smiling as he mentally translated that word. “No, I guess you aren’t kittens any longer.” They reached the door to his chambers. He turned to face them. “Would you like to come in?”

  Loki glanced at the door then shook his head. “Perhaps some other time, sir. I think your husband is eager to see you.”

  Riko and Raki grinned and flipped him identical salutes. Then, all three turned and padded back down the corridor. Cai watched them go for a moment then he turned and went through the door.

  Chapter Eight

  His console chimed, pulling him out of the complex mathematical equations of faster than light travel. Someone wanted to speak to him. Although he resented the intrusion, he touched the accept button and glanced at the screen as the dorm monitor’s face flickered into existence.

  “Cadet Nathizo,” the man intoned. “You are instructed to report to conference room twenty in thirty minutes.”

  “Very well,” Yeraki replied. The communication ended. Yeri glanced at the time then at the station map. He had a few minutes before he’d have to leave. He touched a few buttons, placing a call of his own.

  Lee’s familiar image appeared. “What do you need, Yeri?”

  “I have to go to conference room twenty in half an hour. It’s not on my schedule. Have you heard anything about this?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Lee’s handsome face frowned briefly. “Do you want me to look into it?”

  Yeri considered then shook his head. “Not enough time, and I’m sure you’re busy, too. I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “It’s probably another VIP wanting to gawk,” Lee suggested.

  That happened often enough that Yeri snorted agreement, though those usually set appointments in advance, not with a mere thirty-minutes notice. Yeri noted that Lee didn’t disagree with his calling him busy. That was proof enough of the truth of the assumption. Lee was the only remaining doctor of Rovani medicine alive. He was trying to set up a curriculum to train others but was also the only man anyone could consult on emergency medical matters where Rovania were involved.

  The medical division of the Breedmasters had always been small, but Yeri hadn’t realized how small until he’d discovered that Lee was the only one left. The other Breedmasters were knowledgeable about Rovani genetics, psychology, and training, but they weren’t medical experts. Lee was one of the few who’d worn two hats, as the saying went, being a medical doctor as well as a stud handler.

  “Love you,” Yeri told Lee in parting. It was only the truth.

  “I love you, too, kitty cat,” Lee replied and closed the connection.

  Yeri turned his attention back to the FTL equations and managed to solve one before he had to leave for conference room twenty. He was due to sit his recertification exam tomorrow, an exam created at his request. He held a doctorate in quantum physics, but he’d received that degree nearly a hundred years before entering stasis. Over eight hundred years of research and discoveries had changed the face of physics completely. The exam he’d sit tomorrow would prove that he met the current knowledge level of a doctor of quantum physics.

  He checked his cadet uniform on the way out the door. Nothing about it distinguished him from any other Rovani student. He headed out with a jaunty stride, a song winding through his thoughts. He went down two levels and a quarter wheel to starboard before he reached his destination.

  Two uniformed men stood to either side of the hatch. Yeri’s step checked as he noted the Guild insignia. They saw him. “Cadet Nathizo?”

  “Yes,” Yeri replied shortly.

  “Please enter. The guildmaster would like a word with you.”

  I’m too old to be nervous. He almost convinced himself. He forced himself to stillness, to a seeming of calmness, and went through the hatch. He might be about to have a metaphoric litter of kittens, but nothing in his posture or expression would give that away.

  A man sat at the single table which filled the room. He was older, his hair silver and his face wrinkled, but his body was hard and fit, his scent that of a man in control of himself, an alpha, someone who gave orders and was obeyed. He rose to his feet as Yeri entered, and to Yeri’s surprise, bowed.

  “It is truly a pleasure to meet you at last,” the guildmaster said. “War Leader Yeraki,” he continued, rolling the syllables slowly on his tongue, “also known as Squad Leader Hawk.”

  “I haven’t been called that in years,” Yeri replied. He came to a stop on the far side of the table and studied the man with all his senses. The guildmaster was a psion, of course, a level one by the scale Yeri had trained under, a level four according to the scale used in these modern times. “I resigned from the Squad a decade before the massacre.”

  “But not by choice, hmm?” Ashad resumed his seat and motioned for Yeri to also sit.

  Yeri ignored the gesture. He still wasn’t that comfortable with chairs. Standing was easier on his nerves. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

  “I meant what I said. You didn’t resign from the Psion Squad by choice. You were forced to leave.”

  Yeri shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t that simple, Guildmaster. Is this why you wanted to speak to me? To discuss events that happened hundreds of years ago?”

  “In part. It wasn’t all that long ago for some of my newest guildmembers.” Ashad waved a hand and images came up. Mark, Angel, Erika... all his friends from the Squad who’d gone into stasis with them, only to be claimed by the Guild before they even got a chance to wake up. “Before you ask, they’re all doing well and are nearly done with training.”

  “They were already trained.” Yeri kept his simmering anger locked down tight, his face expressionless and his shields reinforced. Every one of the psions in question had once been under his command. He had overseen their training personally.

  “By your standards, yes. By the Guild standards, however, there was still much to be done.”

  The smug self-assuredness of Ashad’s scent was more than Yeri could bear silently. “With all due respect, Guildmaster, they don’t belong to you. They were my friends... and I want them back.”

  “Legally, they do belong to the Guild. Our system isn’t perfect, but it works. We protect both the psions and the public from each other. We train our psions to use their talents to the utmost. We care for them, protect them, employ them. I fail to see the issue here.”

  “My issue is that it isn’t voluntary. When I was sent to Americ
a during the Green War, even I was given a choice by the Squad. They didn’t force me to serve. They asked. Nor did they suppress my memories of home or of family. Since I’ve woken up, I’ve been assured countless times that slavery is an evil of the distant past, and yet, I see it staring right at me, right now, right here, just dressed up as a Guild. If the psions of your Guild aren’t slaves, if they are in fact free, then let them choose their own futures—without memory suppression.”

  “For an ex-slave, you’re unexpectedly loquacious.” Ashad’s scent was both rueful and surprised. “I think I now understand how you managed to command the Psion Squad for so long, and why you were elected to lead your people after the massacre. I will think on what you’ve said, I promise. But I didn’t come here to discuss ethics, I came here to discuss two issues with you—the psions we claimed and the Rovania themselves.”

  “Explain? What issue could the Guild have with my species?” Yeri could, in fact, think of one, and it was an issue he’d been sidestepping to the best of his ability whenever anyone even broached the topic.

  “You, in particular, and your race, in general, have presented me with a quandary. You’re all psions, and as such, according to the law, you should all be claimed by the Guild. But... none of you are suited for life in the Guild. If I were to attempt to claim your people, there would be a great deal of trouble, both for your race and for the Guild itself. So, what am I to do?”

  “Leave us alone,” Yeri replied flatly. “I am in charge of training those Rovania who show more talent than the contact empathy bred into us from the beginning. I won’t let my people go insane because they can’t shield or control their abilities. They pose no danger to the public or the Guild.”

  “I don’t doubt your ability as a trainer,” Ashad said smoothly. “But I have to have more than assurances to satisfy the law. I do not intend to claim your entire race, or any of you, for that matter. What I would like to propose is a partnership between the Guild and the Rovani Council.”

  “If you wish to propose something to the council, you should speak to the council—starting with Vericho. He is leader now.”