“What does your father’s murder have to do with your desire to leave?” the leader asked.
“He challenged the leadership, as do I. It is only a matter of time before they kill me as well.”
“So you escape to avoid death,” said the elder of the two Moshal men.
“No,” Eshel said coldly, reining in his anger. “This leadership is corrupt. There is unrest. With time, Korvalis will deteriorate. I will not allow that to happen.”
They pondered that for several more moments, and Eshel knew he’d made headway.
“How do we know this is not some trick?” the older Moshal man said. “Shereb trickery is widely acknowledged.”
“Although I was only informed of this meeting and your departure date two days ago, my father and I have known of your plan for some time. If I wanted to betray you, I’ve had ample time to do so.” He looked at the woman who stood before everyone. “You are Mosel, Air Guardsman at Station Twelve and coordinator of this effort. I recognize several Osecal scientists here. I offer no argument about Shereb trickery; however, I plan only to utilize such trickery to increase the probability of a successful escape… if you will let me join you.”
“Why should we?” Mosel said.
“I will be an asset to your escape party. I have extensive knowledge of the others from my father, including some facility with their languages. He has been offworld, and such knowledge will benefit us when we reach Suna.”
“If we reach Suna,” Mosel corrected.
Suna was the closest inhabited planet to Korvalis, although still quite far away. For all their scientific advancements, the Korvali had remained technologically simple and their ships, while more than adequate, lacked FTL capability. That, along with Korvalis’s isolated locale, made escape difficult.
“Others before us have tried,” the younger Moshal man said. “And failed. They sit in prison indefinitely… if they are lucky.”
“Yes,” Mosel said. “If we choose to let you join us, you must accept that the risks of such a mission are still considerable. Our probability of success is not as high as a Korvali prefers.”
“I understand the risks,” Eshel said. “And I ask what you’ll do differently than these previous attempts to ensure success.”
Mosel told Eshel their plan. They would rendezvous in the dark hours and take a Guard shuttle to Station 12, one Mosel had arranged. Eshel didn’t know what sort of power Mosel had on her station, but it must be significant to allow her the ability to organize a shuttle without anyone questioning her.
Once at Station 12, they would be escorted one or two at a time to a ship’s bay. In a group, they would appear suspicious. One unfamiliar face was questionable, even with Mosel, but nine was unacceptable. Once gathered in the ship’s bay, someone—Mosel did not specify who, even when Eshel questioned her—would create a distraction by causing a breach in the station’s protective outer barrier, a Level One issue needing immediate addressing. They would then use the distraction to leave.
An alert would sound, of course, and it would not take long before the Guard pursued them. However, Mosel would arrange it so the bay doors for the other ships were manually locked down, delaying the Guard from pursuing them.
Every moment they delayed the Guard was crucial. The farther their escaped ship got, the more likely it would exceed weapons range. The Guard could chase them indefinitely, yes. But they would not have adequate provisions to pursue the rogue ship all the way to Suna, and would at some point have to give up the chase and return to Korvalis, then rely upon diplomatic avenues to retrieve their illegal emigrants.
By then, it would be too late. The fuse would already be lit and they would have no way to contain the bomb. The Sunai would not refuse them refuge, not if the escapees gave them something they valued.
As Eshel listened, however, he knew immediately that the plan, while acceptable, was not good enough.
So when Mosel finished, he said, “I have a better idea.”
4
Back at his laboratory, Eshel got right to work. So much to do, and so little time.
The meeting with the others went about as well as he could have hoped. After his bold suggestion for a new plan, there had been much arguing. Some didn’t want to attempt his idea. Others, a few of the Osecal, didn’t want him to join their escape party at all.
Eshel listened to every protest, and took the time to explain his plan in more detail, letting the group work out for themselves which plan would offer their greatest chance for success. But no matter how much they bandied it about, no matter which way they looked at it, they eventually came to the same conclusion: his plan was superior, and therefore he must join them in order to execute it.
Eshel stood at his lab bench for a moment, almost in disbelief. He was leaving Korvalis.
He’d known this for some time. He’d known that, with convincing, the escapees would allow him to join their effort. They would be foolish not to, given what he brought to the table.
Yet, now it was really happening. And in only a matter of hours.
Eshel felt his doubts creep in again.
What if they never made it out of Korvali space? What if they did and the Guard captured them? What if they managed to outsmart the Guard, but then the ship malfunctioned? Ships malfunctioned sometimes.
And even if they did make it, that created a whole host of new considerations. Was he really prepared to leave everything and everyone he knew? To face the otherworlders? Their questions, their judgment, their strange ways? After spending his life among those like him, now he would spend the rest of it as an outsider, an outcast… someone to fear?
Eshel shoved such thoughts from his mind.
He—they—would succeed.
He’d made every preparation he could to ensure it. Even Eshel’s mother had told him that once he set his mind to something, nothing stopped him from achieving it.
He would correct what had gone wrong. Change would come, whether they wanted it or not.
And the one who killed his father would face justice. It might take months, years, even decades, but Eshel would make sure of that, too.
He packed a few essential items, then went to a cabinet filled with drawers. Eshel opened the bottom one, and there it was.
The vial of liquid. It was so small, that vial, but it represented his greatest scientific achievement to date. One that was so advanced even his father had been impressed. One that the Sunai and especially the humans would marvel at.
One that could save his life, in the unlikely event that things went awry.
But they wouldn’t. They had a solid, even innovative plan. And now, with so little time left, he would create one more thing in the lab, the thing that would ensure their plan worked.
A bioweapon, engineered for their unique situation.
The Korvali weren’t a technologically advanced people, at least not by Sunai and human standards. But bioweaponry was their specialty. It made them unique, and, if necessary, extremely dangerous. And bioweapons were something that Eshel knew a lot about.
This was what sold the other escapees, convinced them he was an asset rather than a liability. Unlike many Osecal scientists, Eshel still had full access to funding and equipment. Elan had warned him that he probably wouldn’t enjoy such latitude for long.
Now, that no longer mattered.
Eshel worked for several more hours, ignoring his fatigue, barely feeling it due to his anticipation of what was to come. When finished with his latest creation, he packed it away along with his other belongings.
He paused, taking one last look around his laboratory. It was the place he had spent so much time over many years, where he and Othniel had achieved so much.
Eshel took a mental image, and left.
5
Weeks Earlier
The cold wind blew and the dark ocean roiled, its endless blue-green marred only by frothing white caps that came and went on the choppy sea. Eshel was tired from a hard swim lasting more th
an four hours, and his father looked tired as well.
They dried off and put their robes on just as a thick mist began to form, obscuring Fallal Hall in the distance. They didn’t typically venture this far away to swim, not when there were plenty of places closer to home and there was work to be done in the lab. However, his father had again brought Eshel out here to talk to him about important things, the kinds of things they didn’t want anyone to overhear.
Othniel sat down on a rock, his short hair already mostly dry. Eshel sat down next to him.
“How is work on your genetic therapy progressing?” Othniel asked him, his voice raised to compensate for the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
“Well,” Eshel replied. “However, it needs more work. The gene mapping for the metabolic pathways has proven more challenging than I anticipated.”
“Keep at it, and do not squander time.” He looked around briefly, ensuring they were alone. “I have word that an escape party is forming.”
Eshel raised his eyebrows. “Who?”
“A small group of Osecal and Moshal.”
“Moshal? That is advantageous, if they have connections in the Korvali Guard.”
“Yes. I have long suspected that there is a secret rebellion among the Guard.”
Eshel said nothing in response, unsure whether his father’s suspicions resulted from his lofty ideas or something more concrete. With Othniel, it could be either.
“This means, son, that time has come. If there was ever a time for you to leave Korvalis, it is now, with all this unrest. This group is merely in the planning stages, but I have word that they are committed to their plan.”
“Shall I contact them?”
“No. It is too soon. Many talk of leaving, but most never make it off the surface. We cannot risk being associated with their treason. Instead, we will monitor their progress.”
Eshel was silent, an indication of his agreement.
“You will need to acknowledge the words of outsiders, son, even if no response is required. If you do not, many will consider your silence disrespectful.”
It was one of countless bits of advice Othniel had given him about dealing with otherworlders. Before Elisan—their kunsheld, or non-monarchial leader—began refusing Othniel’s requests to attend meetings offworld.
Othniel continued. “You will also need to make physical contact with them, particularly the Sunai and the humans.”
Eshel scowled. So far, that was perhaps the most objectionable of his father’s advice.
“Only briefly, son. The humans shake hands, the Sunai meet palms. All else is unnecessary, even dangerous.”
An ache of discomfort ran through Eshel’s body. “Repulsive.”
“Only because you have never done so.” His father raised a palm, his fingers long and thin with webbing between them.
Eshel reluctantly did the same, meeting his father’s palm for a moment before pulling his hand away. Then Othniel reached straight out with his arm, his hand perpendicular to the ground. Eshel stuck out his hand in response, hesitating, until his father grasped his and squeezed it. Eshel grimaced a little at the strange sensation, and retracted his hand.
“It seems unnecessary, all these stupid gestures,” Eshel said. “For only strangers.”
“They are not stupid when they get you what you want.”
Eshel didn’t argue. He knew his father was right.
“Have you practiced your English?” he said in English. “Your primary Sunai? Your Derovian?”
“I have.”
“Say it in Sunai.”
“I have… practice… my English, my primary Sunai, my Derovian,” he repeated.
“Practiced. Past tense. Your skills must improve.” Othniel paused. “There are four inhabited planets, all members of the Alliance. These Calyyt… they are quite primitive and have no interest in science, and they allow no immigration. The Derovians are a very pleasant people… however, while the moon they reside upon has oceans to swim in, they too place no importance on science. They also lack the ability to protect you, both politically and technologically, and rely on the Sunai’s formidable military for their own protection. And the Sunai will never let you live on Derovia when they can have you nearby, ready to give them what they hope to get. As such, you will take refuge on Suna.”
Othniel turned away, peering out over the unsettled ocean, almost completely covered in mist. “The Sunai are adequately advanced in their science and technology, and are driven by a need to excel. They will go out of their way to protect you.” He paused. “However, Suna’s climate is abysmal. It is inexplicably hot, enough to denature the very DNA of a Korvali. The planet has violent volcanic activity and no surface bodies of water. And their males… they are blustering, loud, and boastful beyond their abilities.”
“Given these drawbacks, why bother with Suna?” Eshel said. “Why not begin there and then settle upon Earth, whose oceans are vast and whose genetic science is more advanced?”
“That is impossible, son—”
“Why? Based on my research, and your reports from your interactions with humans offworld, they are most similar to us.”
“They are, indeed. Curiously so. However, that is not always beneficial. The humans and Sunai share their desire for technological advancement as well as their warlike tendencies, and they spent far too long warring with one another as a result. More importantly, the humans do not trust us. They have decreed that no Korvali shall set foot upon Earth, until we join this Alliance. That is why I never visited Earth, despite requesting to do so many times.”
When the rain began to fall, Othniel pulled his hood up, as did Eshel.
“Then why go?” Eshel said. “Why bother with our plans when the choices are limited to those who dislike us and a planet that sounds inhospitable at best? Perhaps there is some other way to achieve our goal.”
Othniel narrowed his eyes. “There is no other way, son.”
Again, Eshel knew his father was right. “Visiting the outerworlds, like you have, is one thing. Living among them, relying on them… it is dangerous. They could exploit us. Kill us.”
Othniel was quiet for several moments. “Yes. But you are clever. You will not allow that to happen. And they will refrain from their bellicose tendencies when they learn we have something they value. We have the most advanced methods in genetics and genetic engineering that exist among the five inhabited worlds. The outsiders have always underestimated us, but they leave us be because they know we have power and knowledge they know nothing of.”
He paused, staring out at the stormy ocean again. “We are, in many ways, superior. But superior or not, we are in danger and our leadership is too stupid to see this. This is why you must go. I would go myself, but it is impossible. I am watched now.” His father eyed him, his stare even more intense with his unusual green eyes. “You have opportunity to change so much, Eshel. To see beyond what is, to see what Korvalis can be once more.”
Eshel sat there for a moment, finally saying the thing he’d never said. “What if I fail?”
“You will not fail.”
“The probability of our escape party succeeding, even by your measure, is quite low. Also, even if I manage to take up residence on Suna, creating change will be difficult. They will resist, as will our people.”
“You must change that.”
Eshel found that more difficult to believe, yet he had little choice but to trust his father’s words. His father held liberal views, and had been outspoken about them. He believed the Korvali should maintain relations with outsiders. He also believed they should join the Alliance. Isolation, he’d always said, promoted inbreeding of ideas. However, their leadership had steadfastly refused… then punished Othniel for his “traitorousness.”
“Life among the others will have many shortcomings,” Othniel went on. “You must overlook these things and remained focused on what is important. Korvalis, our people, and our science. Ten years have passed since the Sunai d
iscovered us. We can no longer pretend we are alone in this universe. We can no longer remain completely isolated if we want our people to thrive.” He turned to Eshel. “Find a way to connect with the others. Find a way to convince them of what is best… for us and for them.”
Othniel paused. “There is one more thing I will say. The genetic therapy you have created, it will be one of the finest our people have ever seen. You must finish, and you must bring the therapy when opportunity comes to escape.”
Eshel stared at his father, surprised. “To what end? Bringing it only risks getting it stolen, and we cannot possibly share our methods with outsiders—”
“You will not allow them to take it, and they would not know what to do with if you did. Instead, it will be a powerful form of leverage, and may even save your life.”
Eshel pondered that. It was his greatest scientific achievement so far. He and Othniel had discussed its design, but he alone had developed something that made him proud. And if successful, its ramifications were vast.
“I will finish the work, Father.”
Othniel stood, signaling that they were finished. Eshel did the same, and they began the long walk back.
6
In the dark chill of the pre-dawn morning, Eshel left his laboratory, his vials and bioweapon hidden under his robe. A thick mist hung in the air, and Eshel couldn’t help but think of his father and their secret conversations.
What would Othniel say to him now? Particularly about the creations Eshel hid on his person? The genetic therapy was especially consequential; however, it had one major failing.
It was untested. No respectable Korvali scientist even considered using a genetic therapy that hadn’t undergone painstaking computer modeling and simulations along with careful testing. The Korvali had the best geneticists in the galaxy, but even they knew the genome was not some simple animal that would bend to their will. It was crafty, and had a mind of its own.
The Escape Page 2