Chapter 11
FOR THE REMAINDER OF the morning, the Moon sisters were immersed in lessons on Warrish manners.
At midday, Ekewaka collected the six candidates from the library and escorted them to lunch. They crossed the lobby and walked along a corridor to the end of the main residential section. A double door opened into a pavilion. Large windows and patio doors filled each of its nine sides. The airy space contained four tables, each with six chairs, and a longer table in the middle holding platters of food and jugs of beverages.
“All your meals will be in here,” Ekewaka said. “It’s arranged in Warrish fashion for two triads to share the same table. You may like to try their system, although we won’t complain if you guys choose to sit at different tables.”
“Sure,” Holly murmured as she followed her sister to the buffet. Meekly obedient, Amrita followed them. They selected items for lunch and found a table. The three African psychics joined them, evidently preferring their familiar company. Soon after, Vivian entered with the other six candidates. They separated. Not surprisingly, the Li sisters hung together, while Vivian sat with the trio from the Americontinent.
Observing the seating arrangements, Holly wondered how long this compliance to Warrish triads would last.
THE FIRST COMPLICATION came after lunch when the Moon sisters and Amrita went to their room to change into swimsuits for their lessons. At home, Holly and Rosie often spent their holidays at the seaside. They were accustomed to swimming and surfing in the cooler northern waters. In preparing for this trip, they had packed full wetsuits as well as prettier, sleeveless swimsuits. Now, they wriggled into the wetsuits and slipped into water shoes, ready to plunge into the waves.
Amrita stared at them dismay and began to sniffle. She confessed, “I can’t swim. I’ve never been in the sea.” With tears flowing down her cheeks, she whined, “What am I to do? I’m scared of drowning in the waves, and my parents will beat me if I’m sent home.”
Rosie hugged the slender woman, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”
“The Warrish will be with us,” Holly said. “And you can’t drown if you’re using those breathers.”
After a few minutes, Amrita calmed and the sisters persuaded her to exchange the saree for her new swimsuit.
“My parents made me buy this suit,” she said. “They ordered me to fly here for the tests.”
Holly said, “Don’t you want to be an astronavigator?”
Shaking her head, Amrita said, “No. But, I couldn’t refuse.”
“Why not?” Rosie asked gently. “Please tell us about your family.”
“My parents,” Amrita whispered, “sell my services to read people’s fortunes. When the officials announced the call for women with psychic skills, my family sent me for the examination. I didn’t want to go, but they insisted. The examiners verified my foretelling ability and my parents accepted a high bride price in return for my becoming a candidate for tripilot training.”
“They were wrong to force you,” Holly said. “We were told that the program is voluntary and we can decline to continue training at any stage.”
By the time they had coaxed Amrita to walk down to the beach, the African candidates were already in the water. Splashing and shouts of glee suggested they were enjoying themselves. Two of the Warrish swam nearby, their blue cockscombs poking above the waves. Another bare-chested figure, distinguished by the Warrish style of his upright black hair, stood on the rocks of an islet on the opposite side of the lagoon.
The First of the Blue Crescent Triad stood on the wooden dock, watching them descend the steps from the veranda. His green-tinged chest was bare, exposing the lines of his gills.
Eying him surreptitiously from a distance, Holly admired his broad chest and muscular arms.
When the Moon sisters arrived on the beach with their reluctant companion, the Overseer gave them a sharp stare. “Is there a problem?”
Holly explained, “Amrita’s nervous. She can’t swim.”
“Unfortunate.” His blue brows twitched in a frown. “Can you swim?”
“Oh yes. Rosie and I go surfing every summer.”
“Urish.” Pivoting toward the sea, he called, “Arkur, one of the candidates cannot swim. Encourage her into the water.”
His Third embarked on the unenviable task of persuading Amrita to overcome her fear of swimming, while Arrak handed breathers to the Moon sisters and invited them to swim around the lagoon.
Indicating the man across the lagoon, Arrak said, “The Black Arrow Triad has guard duty today. Tonnor is watching for intruding sharks.”
By the time the sisters had circled inside the reefs twice, Arrak declared them competent swimmers. He instructed them to practice swimming underwater in the shallows near the beach and promised to escort them into deeper water later.
Growing comfortable with the nostril breathers, Holly and Rosie pretended to be snorkeling. They glided under the waves and examined the different types of coral and brightly-colored fish in the clear water of the lagoon. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the sea, enjoying the freedom of diving with breathers.
At length, Arrak ordered the candidates to leave the water. The air had cooled. Holly was amazed to see the sun had lowered and almost touched the blue line of the horizon.
Tired and hungry, the Moon sisters plodded up the steps to the building and went to their bedroom to change for the evening meal.
Amrita lay curled on a bed mat, sobbing.
It took a combination of Rosie’s sympathetic pleas and Holly’s practical advice to persuade her to accompany them to the dinner.
By now, the sky was dark.
They dined in the spacious pavilion with the other nine candidates, Vivian, Ekewaka, and their three Warrish guides. The dishes included Hawaiian specialties, poi, baked fish, vegetables and tropical fruit.
After their meal, the candidates were invited to relax on the veranda, watch the TriD or explore the sims in an adjoining room. The groups dispersed in different directions.
Holly and Rosie wandered out onto the veranda with Amrita trailing behind like a forlorn shadow. Noises filled the darkness beyond the lamps on the eaves, the crash of waves competed with strange shrills and chirps of tiny hidden creatures. Stars glittered in the black sky and a crescent moon hovered above the ocean.
They found seats away from the lights and noise of the TriD entertainment. Most of the other prospective triads also drifted onto the veranda. They preferred a change after studying virtual tutorials for half of the day.
Scanning across the occupied seats, Holly noted some attempts to socialize. In the most prominent and boisterous example, Shauntelle was demonstrating her illusions to Ekewaka and the brothers of the Blue Crescent Triad. Her performance was punctuated by hoots of laughter. Vivian was talking to the Li sisters, while Ruby and Zabrina were engrossed in conversation.
Marie approached the Moon sisters, smiling and clearly eager to chat. Sitting opposite them, she leaned forward and gazed at Holly. “The spirits tell me you have lost a loved one recently.”
Skeptical of this opening gambit, Holly remarked, “Many of us lost relatives and friends in the last war.”
After a surprised blink, Marie said, “Not in the war. Someone who passed into the spirit world in more recent years.”
Helpful as usual, Rosie offered, “We lost our dad four years ago.”
Holly shrugged. “Maybe that’s it.” Her ex-boyfriend Owen might have died in the battle with the hideous Swarm, however, she had ceased to love him months ago and had no wish to encourage Marie.
In light of Holly’s disinterest, Marie conceded. “Perhaps they meant your father.” Seeking easier prey, she turned to Amrita, asking, “What about you?”
Amrita shrank back, clutching her hands over her breast and gasping in horror, “Who has died? Please tell me.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Marie patted Amrita’s shoulder. “Do you wish to speak to one of the spirits? The spirit of somebody w
ho loved you?”
Exhaling a long sigh, Amrita murmured, “Nani, my dearest grandmother. She taught me how to read fortunes.”
“Let me find her spirit.”
“Not here.” Amrita glanced at the Moon sisters. “Somewhere more private.”
Marie indicated the double doors. “We can go inside.” She drew Amrita away to commune in private with the spirits.”
Glancing at her sister, Holly conveyed an amused eyeroll.
Half in earnest, Rosie said, “She wasn’t really interested in Dad.”
“No. We’re too pragmatic. She wants somebody more susceptible to the spirits.”
The sisters were not left alone for long.
Ekewaka strolled over to ask if they had enjoyed their first day at the embassy.
Holly said, “We loved swimming in the lagoon.”
After a short conversation, Ekewaka moved on, and the Moon sisters decided to go to bed. As they walked to the exit, Amrita hurried up, also ready to retire for the night.
ON THEIR SECOND DAY at the embassy, Arrak invited Amrita and the Moon sisters to accompany him to another site on the island. He guided them out of the main building to a separate hexagonal structure with a prominent peaked roof.
Gesturing to this building, he said, “Our glorious Primes desired this temple to be built to demonstrate their respect for the beliefs of people on Earth.”
They entered by a door of transparent material. After two steps, the three women halted to gaze around in astonishment. The interior felt as cool and serene as the nave of a cathedral. They stood on a floor of hexagonal tiles inlaid with shells. Six transparent doors were topped by tall windows open to the sea breezes. Overhead, tiny lights shone in a hexagonal array on the domed ceiling. On the walls between the six doors, shrines and altars held statues and other religious objects. A circular pool of dark water lay in the center of the space.
Holly recognized the figure of Christ, Buddha and a frieze of brightly decorated Hindu deities with four arms.
After an initial simultaneous pause, the three candidates separated. Amrita hurried around the pool to the platform with the Hindu gods, where she folded her hands together and bowed in devotion. Attracted by the exotic flowers, Rosie headed toward a simpler shrine with a lei of red tropical flowers draped over a totem pole carved with strange effigies.
Holly went toward the central pool. Lovely waterlilies with creamy white petals floated above large round leaves, while yellow and white goldfish swam underneath. She knelt on the shell-encrusted rim and dipped a finger into the water.
From behind her, Arrak said, “These fish and flowers seemed fitting to honor our Primes. They love all kinds of living creatures.”
Twisting around to face him, she asked, “Do Warrish have a religion?”
“We have little formal worship. Our reverence is centered on the Great Mother, Warra. Our glorious Primes serve as Warra’s voices.”
When the three psychic women had finished admiring the temple, they reconvened by the entrance and thanked Arrak.
Blinking tears from her dark eyes, Amrita said, “I prayed for guidance, for a glimmer of hope to lightened my miserable life.”
Chapter 12
BASWIN REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS. His mind was blurry, his head throbbed, one arm ached, and something was smothering his gills. He longed to retreat into sleep, but a needle of fear forced him to stay awake.
He opened his eyes to a familiar environment. Water flowed all around him. Slow swells of water, pleasantly warm and salty. Lighter above and darker underneath him. In the depths of his befuddled mind, he knew was lost in the sea, completely lost and disorientated. Lost at sea, yet low on oxygen.
What had clogged his gills?
He scratched at his chest. Bulky clothes were stifling the normal motions of his gills and limbs. The heavy cape was a useless encumbrance. He wriggled out of its folds and loosed it into the currents.
He tugged at the fabric clinging to his chest, ripping apart the buttons. Under the shirt, the armored vest pressed against his gills and prevented them from opening properly. Dimly, he knew the vest was meant to protect him. Instead of stripping it off, he fumbled with the fastenings until it hung loosely from his shoulders.
His gill slits widened and filtered dissolved oxygen into his body.
Revived by the fresh influx of oxygen, he remembered the assault. The kankreth sailors had trapped him in the concealed space between two rows of containers. They had restrained him with ropes, tore off his hard hat, punched his face and questioned him. He fingered the sore places on the upper parts of his head. The lump on his temple and tenderness around one eye must be the result of their beating. His whole face must be bruised and swollen.
At some point, they had abandoned the torture, perhaps to avoid detection. Had they knocked him unconscious? He did not remember.
They must have thrown him overboard and left him to drown. They had not removed his waterproof cape or his armored vest. If the Great Mother still smiled upon him, they had not discovered his alien identity. The awkward vest butted on his sides as he swam, yet it gave him some protection against dangerous sea predators.
He flexed the muscles of his chest and arms. Questions flooded into his re-oxygenated brain.
How long ago had he been tossed off the ship? Where was he?
Instinctively, he swam toward the light. Sunlight brightening the surface of the water.
As he stretched his arms to the rolling waves on the surface, he noticed his wrist was bare. His assailants must have removed his com with its embedded qtel. He recalled the trail of spilled powder and deduced his attackers were smuggling dope. They had overheard him speaking to his Warrish contact and suspected he was reporting on the illegal shipment. He vaguely remembered one of them saying, “Get rid of him.” But they kept his com, perhaps planning to hack in and discover his contacts.
Despite his predicament, he felt a stir of grim humor. Warrish technology for the qtel was not freely available to Earthers. His torturers would regret their theft. His qtel was set to self-destruct if anybody tried to tamper with it. Its contents were secure in a distant location. He had transmitted all the data recorded by his illicit bugs to his technical contact, one of the Watchers in the submarine base on Europa.
Without his qtel, he had no means of calling for help from the Warrish embassy. He was alone in the ocean. Alone and dispensable. A depressing idea, but true. If his alias were compromised, the Triarch had no further need of his services. A disguised Warrish man would be a liability if any Earther found him. His superiors might prefer to allow him to disappear and even die.
Die?
He rejected the thought. He could survive in the ocean. Water and oxygen were plentiful. Sea water was palatable to his species. He could safely eat many of Earth’s animals. He could swim for long distances. If he could just reach the Warrish embassy, they would be obliged to help him. They could not afford the adverse publicity if Earthers discovered a dying alien in the ocean.
Alarik would plead for him. Demand that someone search for him. But where was his First? Had he arrived on Europa? Or had he been trapped by the Earthers and imprisoned for being an enemy agent? His spirits plummeted into despair. Was Alarik still alive?
Swimming to the surface, he floated on the choppy water in the blazing sunlight. As he rose on the next cresting wave, he stared around.
Nothing.
No ship, no sign of land, only the blue ocean stretching as far as he could spy.
What now?
As he bobbed on the waves, he contemplated his options.
A weight jiggled on his hips and he remembered the toolbelt. Its contents appeared to be intact, judging by the familiar contours of the pockets. One held his repair kit, and the other had the dud sensor and a replacement unit. Mentally reviewing the tools in his kit, he decided the narrow tip of the screwdriver would make a handy weapon and possibly the coil of wire. He might be able to adapt the sensor to emit a distress si
gnal, but that would require a dry place, and the conversion might be impossible without the electronic probes in his modified com.
He must swim toward the embassy. He saw no other viable option. Luckily, like his fellow Warrish, he had a strong sense of direction even in the depths of the sea. The storm had been blowing toward the island embassy, and the major underwater currents streamed in his favor. Even if he could not swim fast, he would drift in the direction of his goal.
Should he discard his clothing? Dispassionate in this emergency, he considered the value of each separate item. If he found an island, the shirt would help to prevent sunburn. He eased off the shirt and tied it around his waist. The armored vest impeded his ability to swim. He dropped it and felt immediate relief. He dealt likewise with the boots, after first fumbling to remove the laces and store them in a pocket. The trousers of durable material were saturated with water and heavy. But if he landed, he might need a modicum of modesty. He compromised, using a small bladed tool to cut off the lower portion and make a pair of shorts.
With these adjustments to his attire, his body became streamlined and he could travel faster through the water. He dove under the surface, seeking the calmer region below the tossing remnants of the storm.
He swam on, dogged despite his throbbing headache.
The surface light dimmed. Night was coming.
Rising to the surface, he leaped above the wavetops. The sun reddened the western skyline, its rays dancing across the rippling ocean and guiding him toward the Warrish haven.
Confident of his direction, he sank beneath the waves again.
A dark object rushed toward him.
Before he had time to dodge, water swirled and teeth raked on his thigh. Not one, but two sharks threatened him. Both sharks were bigger and faster than him. Long and sleek, they circled over and under him, darting in to fix their jaws on his exposed limbs.
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