Baswin

by Aurora Springer

  Rosie remarked, “That alien didn’t have tripilots on its spacecraft.”

  “So, we could discover how they navigate in hyperspace.”

  “You’d think Taxyon Space would be exploring that idea.”

  Holly nodded. “Maybe they are. We’re not privy to all their plans.”

  Chapter 15

  WEAK AND BONE-WEARY, Baswin blinked in bewilderment at the pale ceiling and rounded contours of the walls. Where was he? A dull achiness permeated his entire body with acute pangs centered on his right temple and left thigh. He stretched his limbs, testing them one by one. His legs felt inert and his arms were restrained by straps. The astringent odor of healgel combined with his weakness suggested he lay under Warrish treatment. Earthers did not use healgel.

  A fountain of memories gushed into his mind and drove the fuzziness from his thoughts. In his attempt to escape discovery by the Earthers, he had bartered for a job on a cargo ship sailing across the Pacific Ocean. Some of the crew had become suspicious and angry. He remembered their punches and his bleeding lips. He had recovered consciousness in the sea and swum in the direction of the embassy on the Isle of Warra. In spite of painful encounters with the ocean’s worst predators, he must have reached his goal. This room with its comfortably moist atmosphere was surely designed for Warrish occupants.

  He remembered a woman, a pretty human woman with gold glints in her flaxen curls. She held him in her arms and smiled kindly at him. A second woman had appeared. Her gentle touch had soothed his tortured body. Who were the two women? Had he been dreaming of angels in the form of human females?

  Still bewildered, he shook his head.

  Beep, beep, beep.

  He guessed his motion had activated a monitor. He waited for the response.

  Within a twelfth of an hour, a man came into the room. His hair and triad mark had green and brown stripes and he was clothed in a red tunic and brown leggings.

  Bowing, he said, “Calm seas, Brin Tallis.”

  Baswin’s mouth felt dry and he croaked, “Is this the embassy?”

  “Urish. We are in the submarine base on the bottom of Earth’s Pacific Ocean.” The man’s eyes flicked a fraction wider. “Do you not remember being transported here?”

  “No. I remember only nightmarish dreams. Except once I had a pleasant dream of a smiling angel, a human woman.”

  “She was not a dream. You were found by a human woman, Brisa Moon. If you don’t remember...” His voice trailed away, his particolored brows twitching in a slight frown, and he moved into the gestures of the standard greeting, “Overseer Ronnith, First of the Green Stripe Triad. My brothers and I tended to your injuries as well as we could. Our embassy has no healers on its staff, and we dared not expose your secret by summoning an Earther medic. You have been unconscious, or half-awake and delirious, since you were brought here.”

  “Calm seas, Overseer. I appreciate your service.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  The question forced Baswin to acknowledge the gurgles of his empty belly. “Urish.”

  “Let me fetch a bowl of soup.” The Overseer departed as quietly as he had entered.

  Left alone, Baswin wondered what had happened to Alarik since their last conversation. He must ask how long he had drifted in the ocean. No, the Overseer would not know when he had been thrown off the cargo ship. He had to learn the date in Earther units and calculate whether his First had reached the safety of the Warrish base on Europa.

  Overseer Ronnith reappeared and placed a steaming bowl on the cabinet by the bed. “Allow me to release the bands now you are lucid.” He unfastened the straps about Baswin’s limbs and body. Then, he raised Baswin’s head and tucked a wedge-shaped cushion under his shoulders.

  Curious about the tightness ringing his head, Baswin slid his fingers up his cheek. Past the slight roughness of the skin left by the erasure of his triad mark, he touched a band of smooth fabric covering the sore spot on his forehead. What had caused that injury? Was the damage due to punches of the smugglers who attacked him on the cargo ship? Or had he hit an obstacle in the sea? He could not remember. Feeling along his body, he discovered a hard casing over his left thigh. He shuddered, remembering the ferocious sharks.

  “Eat.” Ronnith placed the bowl in his hands. “You’ll feel better.”

  Inhaling the delightful fishy odor, Baswin eagerly cupped the bowl in his shaky hands. He raised the bowl to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of soup. He had not tasted such savory food for many months. Not since he had left Rishalt.

  Draining the bowl quickly, he looked up at the Overseer and sought more answers. “Does Triarch Webale know I am here?”

  “The Triarch was informed as soon as you arrived. He gave us your name.”

  “He will want my report,” Baswin added, more out of duty than eagerness for that conversation.

  The Overseer said, “Urish. We will message the Triarch of your intentions.”

  “Does my brother know that I am alive? May I borrow a qtel to speak to my First?”

  “I will inquire of the ambassador.”

  “And the woman who found me? May I offer her my thanks?”

  “I will consult with the ambassador.” Ronnith glanced at the door as if he wished to leave. Returning his gaze to Baswin, he said, “Your presence in the undersea base is a secret. Yet, the woman is in the embassy by invitation. Brisa Moon and her sister are candidates for training as human tripilots.”

  “Human tripilots? Is it possible?”

  “We do not know. We have been advised that humans with appropriate sensitivity to hyperspace might be suitable for the program.” The Overseer poured water into a cup and placed it beside Baswin. “If you are comfortable, I will seek answers to your questions.”

  Baswin dozed.

  A little later, the two junior members of the Green Stripe Triad entered and lowered him into the green waters of the bath.

  He relaxed, luxuriating in the cool bubbles and allowing his gills to fully hydrate until they flushed bright pink with oxygen.

  Time elapsed pleasantly.

  At length, the men returned to lift him out of the bath.

  Overseer Ronnith came in and placed a qtel on the cabinet. “Triarch Webale will call for your report in a sixth of an hour.”

  In a sudden panic, Baswin protested, “I can’t speak to him like this.” In the past, Alarik had handled the direct communications with Webale. But nobody else could give this report on his torturous journey across the Pacific Ocean.

  “My Third, Gannor, will fetch a tunic. The Triarch has been informed of your injuries.”

  On a signal from their First, the three brothers of the Green Stripe Triad left the room.

  While they were absent, Baswin had time to moderate his anxiety and consider how to phrase his report.

  The Green Stripe Third returned with a simple white tunic and belt such as the Underwarders wore.

  The white color suited his unassigned status, although Baswin regretted his erased triad mark.

  As Gannor helped him into the tunic, he muttered, “There’s no time to dye your hair. We can do it later.”

  “Urish,” Baswin groaned. “If the Triarch will agree to my transformation from a pseudo-human to a malformed Warrish.”

  Gannor lifted him into a seated position, propped his back against the padded cushion, and pulled a sheet over his legs. Gesturing to the qtel, he said, “I’ll leave you alone to report to Triarch Webale.”

  The qtel emitted a pulse of light, hastening Gannor’s departure from the room.

  A misty pillar shimmered into view at the foot of Baswin’s bed, creating the holographic projection of Triarch Webale. The pallor of his wrinkled face was accentuated by the red trident tattooed on his left cheekbone. His white robes swayed about his ankles as if he had just walked into the room.

  Clumsy from his wounds, Baswin pushed himself upright and slipped his legs off the bed to perform the correct obeisance. His legs trembled and he collap
sed onto the floor, landing on hands and knees. He abandoned the attempt to stand upright. Instead, he knelt awkwardly with one hand on the floor. Placing two fingers on his bare left cheekbone, he bent his forehead toward his knees and mumbled, “Noble Triarch, forgive my omission. I cannot greet you in the proper manner. My legs are too weak.”

  Webale said testily, “Sit down, Underagent Tallis. I am aware of the injuries you have suffered. You may remain seated for your report. Describe the circumstances leading to your wounds and your lack of contact.”

  Gratefully shifting to sit with his back against the wall, Baswin asked, “Is it safe to report, Triarch? Can the Earthers intercept our conversation?”

  “This embassy is a frequent source of qtel transmissions. We have deduced the Earthers have a device to detect the energy emissions. As far as we are aware, they cannot unravel the quantum entanglement of our words. You may speak freely to me.”

  “They stole my qtel while I was unconscious.”

  “You lost your qtel? Where?” Webale demanded, his tone rising sharply in a rebuke. “Earthers do not have free access to our quantum technology.”

  “I programmed a self-destruct in case anyone tampered with the qtel.”

  “Have you checked the device was indeed destroyed?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been unconscious. They said I was delirious.”

  “Check the self-destruct as soon as you can. How did you lose your qtel?”

  Baswin plunged into the story of his tedious voyage on the cargo ship, its abrupt end in a punishingly unequal fight, and his painful drift across the ocean to the island where he had been found.

  When he came to the end of his description, Webale asked, “Did the sailors discover your true identity?”

  “Perhaps not, Triarch. After they threw me into the sea, I still wore the padded vest hiding my gills. Have you intercepted any complaints from the Earth authorities?”

  “Not one.” The Triarch fell silent, his eyes unfocussed as if he were looking at a distant place.

  Keeping to a tentative tone, Baswin said, “Noble Triarch, may I ask about my brother, Alarik?”

  “What do you wish to know?”

  “Is he alive and well? I have not heard from him since he called from Pallas Station.”

  “Your First is alive and healthy. He has gone to Rishalt.”

  “Rishalt?” Baswin stifled a gasp of surprise. “Do I have permission to call him?”

  “You may speak with your brother. We owe a debt to him and his human comrades. Their actions exposed one part of the mystery surrounding the Eekrepisth that crashed on the red planet.” He waggled a finger in warning. “Do not inquire what they discovered until you are safely away from Earth.”

  Wary, yet optimistic after the good news about his brother, Baswin asked, “Triarch, what are your instructions for me?”

  “You cannot easily resume your covert role in human society at this time. I suggest you join your brothers on Rishalt. We will arrange for you to travel to Europa on the next Earther spaceship.”

  Thrilled with his new instructions, Baswin made the formal response, “I hear and obey, noble Triarch.”

  “Calm seas, Underagent Tallis.” Webale’s hologram dissipated.

  Baswin relaxed and savored the joyful news. He would soon join his brothers on their home world. His brief elation sank under an onslaught of new worries. The trans-solar ferries traveled slowly between Earther colonies. It might be months before he reached Europa, and then he must wait for a starship bound for Rishalt. Yet, he had gained the Triarch’s permission to call Alarik.

  First, he had to check on the lost qtel as Webale had ordered. He picked up the handheld device. His fingers trembled as he entered the code for his own qtel. He achieved no contact. Nothing but the hum of background fluctuations in the quantum field. The self-destruct must have activated correctly. With luck, it had burned the fingers of one of his assailants.

  A wave of exhaustion swept over him. He had to lie down and rest for a moment. Calling Alarik could wait until later. He struggled to reach the platform bed. But his wobbly legs betrayed him again and he slid to the floor. Abandoning the effort to climb onto the raised bed pad, he simply rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on his arm.

  He sank into sleep.

  Chapter 16

  ON THEIR FINAL AFTERNOON at the embassy, the sisters were in their bedroom when Amrita entered. She wore a bright smile and her favorite scarlet saree swished around her ankles.

  Struck by her joyful expression, Holly said, “Hello Amrita. Have you had good news?”

  “Wonderful news,” Amrita exclaimed. Folding her hands together, she said, “I’m not going to Europa.”

  “Didn’t your parents force you to become a candidate?” Holly asked.

  “My fiancé has claimed me. He is flying to Hawaii to meet me. We’ll be married as soon as we can find a favorable date for the ceremony.”

  Rosie murmured, “I didn’t know you had a fiancé. Did your parents arrange the marriage recently?”

  “No.” Clearly embarrassed, Amrita covered her face with her hands.

  “Is it a love match?” Holly guessed. “How romantic.”

  “When did you meet your fiancé?” Rosie patted the adjacent bed mat. “Sit down and tell us all about him.”

  Amrita lifted the folds of her saree and knelt on the mat. Her black eyes sparkled with happiness. “It began almost two years ago. Dipankar’s family requested my services to read his fortune. His parents were distraught with worry. He is their only son. His illness had weakened him severely. His parents feared he would die and nobody would care for them when they grew old.”

  “I can understand their worries,” Rosie said.

  “His family are very wealthy. They sent a private copter to carry me to their mansion.” Amrita lowered her gaze to the floor and sighed. “Dipankar lay on a couch unable to walk or even lift his head. He smiled at me. His handsome smile filled me with love for him. When I held his hand to read his fortune, I felt his inner strength and knew he would live for many years.” Looking up again, she said, “He remembered me. We corresponded in secret for months and he promised to marry me when he was fully recovered from the illness.”

  “But you didn’t wait for him,” Holly prompted.

  “My parents did not know of our secret arrangement. They were greedy for the price the officials offered for me to become a candidate for the tripilot training.”

  Holly frowned. “It was supposed to be voluntary.”

  “What choice did I have?” Amrita shook her head. “I wrote to Dipenkar. When I did not receive a reply, I presumed he had forgotten about me. I grew desperate.” Raising her hands in amazement, she said, “His reply came only today. He had been preoccupied with his father’s sudden death and funeral arrangements. Dipankar renewed his offer of marriage. He’s already contacted the embassy to explain. I’ll be leaving this afternoon.”

  “Wonderful.” Holly smiled. “I’m glad. You didn’t seem happy to swim in the sea.”

  “No. I can’t swim and I hated the idea of living in the water.”

  Rosie said, “I’m happy for you.” She added, a little untruthfully, “Though, we’ll miss you.”

  With a hint of guilt in her voice, Amrita said, “I’m sorry. We were supposed to make a triad. It just wouldn’t work for me.” She touched the back of Rosie’s hand. “You’ll both go to Rishalt. I learned your future soon after we first met. Though, I can’t tell if you will become tripilots.”

  “I’d settle for a handsome fiancé,” Holly quipped. Her ex-boyfriend had never proposed. Instead of staying with her, he had enlisted as a soldier in the Warrish wars. Her thoughts wandered to the battered Warrish man with amber eyes and a charming smile. He had called her an angel. Despite the brief time they had been together, she felt a rapport with him. Alas, their friendship was impossible. He was concealed in the submarine base, while she, if all went smoothly, would be traveling to Europa.


  Holly glimpsed a twitch of amusement in Rosie’s lips. Her sister probably had an inkling of where her thoughts had drifted.

  WHEN THE MOON SISTERS arrived for the evening meal without Amrita, Holly intercepted the questioning glances of the other candidates in the pavilion. She felt no obligation to explain the depletion of their uneven ‘triad’. She preferred to sit quietly with Rosie for their last dinner on the beautiful island. But their final evening brought more surprises.

  Just as the Moon sisters had carried their trays to an empty table, Ekewaka came into the pavilion with two unfamiliar women. After escorting them to seats, he raised his hand and called, “Aloha, ladies. Please welcome Dr. Meera Kumar and her assistant, Med Tech Ulrike Tryggsen. They’ll be accompanying you to Rishalt.”

  Dr. Kumar, a plump woman with a dark complexion, stood and smiled at her surprised audience. “Good evening. Taxyon Space has persuaded me to join your voyage to study the tripilots’ neuro-implants. My medical expertise is in neurosurgery and I am excited by the opportunity to learn from Warrish experts.” She gestured to the tall blonde woman in the next chair. “Ulrike has assisted me for many years and I’m grateful for her company during this expedition to an alien world.”

  Rosie leaned over to whisper to Holly, “They seem quite pleasant.”

  Holly said, “A medic might be useful if someone has an accident.”

  At the end of the meal, Vivian Boyd walked to the upper end of the buffet table. Her movements lacked her usual sprightliness and her tone was sober. “Good evening, ladies. You have reached the final evening at the embassy. I must, however, give you some unexpected news.” She paused to glare at the assembled candidates.

  Her anxious audience exchanged surprised glances and murmured questions.

  Rosie gripped her sister’s wrist. “What does she mean?”

  “Wait,” Holly whispered. “She’ll tell us.”

  Vivian said, “Amrita Dhawan has decided against becoming a tripilot. She has already left to join her fiancé and she expects to be married soon.”