Alien Refuge

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Alien Refuge Page 3

by Tracy St. John


  Jol found himself relaxing into the sociable quiet as he fed chunks of seasoned beef and pork into the grinder. He was in charge of the main dish tonight, a meat pie. A Native American Earther named Quinn who lived at the far edge of the colony had given them the recipe, along with instructions on how to make the corn soup Ospar was preparing and the fried bread Rivek mixed dough for. Quinn practiced a traditional belief system remarkably similar to the Kalquorian Book of Life’s philosophies. He was one of the few Earthers who wasn’t guarded around Kalquorians. He indulged in long discussions with Jol’s Imdiko, who happened to be the head priest for Haven’s Temple of Life.

  Thinking about Earthers made Jol reflect on his afternoon. Saving the boy Thomas from being run down had been on the edge of his consciousness all evening. Thomas and Iris Jenson. A most captivating pair. Two people he hadn’t been able to put out of his mind no matter how many distractions had demanded his attention since leaving their home. Thomas, with his big brown eyes that riveted with such precise attention on whatever claimed his fancy. Iris, her ocean blue eyes swimming with tears that came far too easily as she watched her son.

  His tone mild, Jol said, “You will be receiving a complaint from Governor Hoover tomorrow, Ospar.”

  Standing on Jol’s left, the Dramok snorted. “I receive complaints from him every day, my Nobek.”

  Jol smiled. Earther Governor Hoover was Kalquorian Governor Ospar’s least favorite part of his job. The uneasy mix of an Earther colony within the Kalquorian Empire had the two leaders at each others’ throats more often than not. Hoover was always insisting on less Kalquorian influence over the Earthers, even when such would be detrimental to his people.

  Ospar unleashed a theatrical sigh as he measured spices to go into the soup. “What will be his particular issue this time?”

  “I had an Earther’s shuttle impounded and his permit to pilot revoked. The fool nearly ran down a child.”

  He sensed both his clanmates pause in their work. Ospar turned to him. “A child?”

  Jol switched off the meat grinder and regarded his clanmate of 26 years. Ospar’s handsome face was missing its easy smile, the smile that so often disarmed opponents during his long political career. Ospar not wearing his charming expression was always a bad sign. It usually meant he was only moments from finding someone to throw across the room.

  A flicker of anger warmed Jol’s chest, thinking about the afternoon’s close call. “A six-year-old boy. One with sensory impairments that led to him being in the middle of a travel lane. The area is clearly marked to all traffic that a child with a disability lives there. The offender was driving his shuttle too fast with all warning devices disabled.”

  Ospar’s bright purple eyes narrowed, his wide nostrils flared, and his square jaw tightened. “Did you happen to pound some sense into the offender’s head while you were at it?”

  “I thought for the cause of peace between the colonists and ourselves that it was best to refrain.”

  The Dramok grimaced. It never failed to amuse Jol that a man whose career hinged on compromise had to be reminded often to do so. But in this instance, Ospar’s instinct to squash bad men could be excused, what with a child involved.

  “Pity. But a wise decision,” Ospar finally said, clearly hating his own words. He raked a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

  To Jol’s right, their Imdiko spoke up. His mild tone betrayed none of the concern he no doubt felt. “Where were the child’s parents?”

  “There is only the mother. Iris Jenson.” Jol was profoundly aware of how his mouth formed the woman’s name. He saw again her tear-bright blue eyes, her pretty but too worried face, the strands of golden hair escaping from its messy ponytail and the woven brown cap on her head. He swallowed, wondering what she was doing at this moment.

  He made himself meet Rivek’s sharp eyes, eyes that were usually soft and warm. His Imdiko’s strong, chiseled features were framed by braids twisted into the forward part of his ankle-length hair. Even out of his long temple robes, any Kalquorian would know instantly they were speaking to a priest. What they wouldn’t realize was they were dealing with a man who was every bit as dangerous as most Nobeks. Fortunately, Rivek didn’t have to display that side too often. For the most part, he was a gentle Imdiko whose very presence could calm most agitated minds.

  Jol told him, “She was present and looking out for her son, but unable to retrieve Thomas in time. It was no fault of hers.”

  “I’m sure she was appropriately grateful for your help.” Ospar’s sarcasm came out with little bite. They were all used to Earthers, particularly women, keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and Kalquorian men.

  “She thanked me profusely.”

  “Really?” That brought back Ospar’s smile as he returned to his cooking. It made him look boyish, even younger than Rivek who was ten years his junior. “Sometimes they surprise me.”

  Jol thought of Iris. How she’d run with all she had to get to Thomas, no doubt knowing she’d be too late to save him. The terrible knowledge in her eyes, the tiny gloved hands reaching desperately from too far away. Then later staunchly defending the boy’s abilities, insisting Jol know how talented and intelligent he was. The Nobek wondered at the stubborn strength she showed despite how difficult her situation seemed. How vulnerable she looked on the surface.

  He made a hash with the ground meat and pressed it into the pie crust he’d prepared earlier. It was several minutes before he brought the subject up again. “They need help,” he said.

  Ospar raised an eyebrow. “The mother and boy? Did she ask for your assistance?”

  “I offered her a boundary protector. She seemed grateful to have it, for the child’s sake.” Now here came the part his Dramok would not like so much. “Her snow blower is inoperable, and the heating system in her home is about to quit.” The sound of impending failure when the shelter’s heat had kicked on had been obvious to Jol during his visit.

  Ospar pursed his lips. His duties and the hostility Earthers regularly showed Haven’s supervising Kalquorians were obviously much on his mind. It had been necessary to let the colonists govern themselves as much as possible, or Haven would barely be populated right now. Too much Kalquorian interference would hamper the growing numbers clamoring to settle there.

  After a few seconds’ consideration, Ospar said, “We have to be cautious with such things, especially when an Earther female is involved. I would not worry overmuch with the snow blower unless it becomes a safety issue.”

  Rivek folded his arms over his chest, unconcerned with the flour smearing all over his loose brown tunic. He spoke as he usually did, with quiet, measured tones. “The heating problem must be addressed immediately, however. If it fails in the middle of the night, they could freeze.”

  “I think it will hold up for a few days. Maybe a week, perhaps. Not much longer though,” Jol said.

  Ospar nibbled his lower lip. “Her funds are not adequate for her to have one of her own people repair it?”

  Jol felt a stab of sympathy for his Dramok. No doubt Ospar wanted to let the Nobek charge in and put everything to rights for a needing family. Having to tread so carefully around Earthers was a huge challenge for the take-charge governor.

  Jol told him, “The child’s difficulties make it hard for Matara Iris to do more than sustain them at their present level. From what I saw, I sincerely doubt she has the ability or goods to trade for the heater repair.”

  That was true. Her boots had been worn and not at all good enough for Haven’s frequent winter snows and ice. Her coat was patched and not an insulated garment, forcing her to wear many layers of clothes to stay warm. The cuff of one of her gloves had been fraying. Little Thomas had been wearing much better clothing than his parent. Iris had obviously put her meager funds into his wellbeing, forsaking her own.

  The Earther government was very much about people taking charge of their own welfare, even when it meant those least able to car
e for themselves went without. Only their church offered any kind of additional help, and rumor had it that institution was stretched thin these days. Who could settle on Haven was decided by Ospar, and he opted to bring in those who were in the most desperate need. Unfortunately, those people didn’t always possess the skill and know-how when it came to farming or animal husbandry. The worst fights between governors Ospar and Hoover these days was over guaranteeing that those whose crops failed would still be fed.

  Ospar would never allow anyone to go hungry on his watch, even if it meant dipping into the colony’s stores that were meant for sale off-planet. Hoover insisted that charity would only make people lazy and dependent. “Coddle them and they’ll take advantage until they get everything, stealing from those of us who don’t mind doing the work,” he’d shouted only yesterday, his jowled face the usual red it turned when he was around Ospar.

  “Starve them, and your fat Earther ass will be the only one left on Haven,” Ospar had yelled back.

  Jol had been standing at Ospar’s side, as he always was when Hoover showed up. It had taken all his willpower to not burst out in laughter. Hoover wasn’t precisely fat, but the man missed no meals either. It had been a funny though admittedly childish insult.

  At least Iris was farming enough to feed herself and her child. It guaranteed she didn’t have to go begging to a tightfisted Earther governor who lived in more fear of losing a few cuts of meat than seeing the hungry face of a little boy.

  His thoughts full of Iris and Thomas, Jol put his prepared meat pie into one of the vast kitchen’s heating units. An instant later, Ospar’s soup went into another one. On the Earther-style stove, Rivek began dropping his flat discs of bread into hot oil. They were perfectly in sync as always, but then they had been clanmates a long time.

  Jol didn’t bother trying to convince his Dramok with more arguments over the Jensons’ plight. He knew Ospar would give him the go ahead to fix their home’s heating system. Just as Ospar no doubt knew Jol would also repair the snow blower despite the order not to.

  Ospar’s glare was only window dressing. “I will not have a Matara and child endangered, even if they don’t want our help. Fix their heating at your earliest convenience, but be as discreet as possible. We don’t want the E.I.K. targeting them.”

  Jol nodded. “Of course.”

  Ospar knew better than to remind Jol to be cautious. However, the Dramok’s greatest failing was his heavy-handed way of running things, whether it be governance of a colony or his clan. For the most part, Jol had learned to overlook that quirk, especially when it didn’t happen in front of people outside their little group. As Rivek often reminded him, forgiveness was its own test of strength, one worthy of a warrior Nobek.

  Besides, Jol looked forward to the opportunity to see Iris and Thomas again, to perhaps learn more about them. If he got into an argument over Ospar’s imperious nature, his Dramok might see fit to send someone else in to do the needed repairs.

  Jol felt a near compulsion to speak once more with the pretty Matara who wore sadness like a dark cloak. He didn’t know why he was so fascinated with her and the boy, but it was one of many questions he wanted answered about the pair.

  As they waited for their food to finish cooking, Ospar changed the subject. “Is all ready for Councilman Maf’s visit?”

  Damn it. Jol had been so caught up in the Jensons’ issues that he’d let slip important updates Ospar needed. He switched gears quickly. “His quarters and household help are prepared. I have yet to receive an itinerary from your aide, however.”

  Ospar nodded. “Mention it to Borl first thing tomorrow. That is, unless you are attending to the Matara’s heating emergency right away?”

  Another flash of Iris’ haunted face appeared before Jol’s imagination. He tried to make her go away with little success. “I would like to see to that as soon as possible, though I do have a security meeting with my force as soon as I walk in the door.”

  “Then I will speak to Borl about it. You’ll have that itinerary within the first hour.” Ospar’s grin reappeared. “I take it your sweep, other than snatching Earther children from death, was a nice getaway from the office today?”

  “Uneventful, really.” Jol shrugged. “More signs put up by the E.I.K. that I had taken down.”

  In recent months an underground movement had made itself known on Haven. Missives signed by the Earthers for Independence from Kalquor, or the E.I.K., had begun appearing in public areas of the colony. These declarations and threats demanded the Kalquorians leave Haven and let the Earthers govern themselves. Warnings of ‘severe consequences for treasonous actions’ were issued to the Earthers known to be friendly with their hosts. Several homes had come under attack with crosses erected and burned on their properties.

  Rivek smiled, as if contemplating naughty children instead of militant adults. “Occupation is never appreciated, even when benign.”

  Jol scowled at him. “Occupation? We’re in Empire territory, which these fools so conveniently forget. We gave them this colony as a gift.”

  The Imdiko priest’s strong features were at odds with his serene expression as he scooped the fried bread circles out of the sizzling oil. He set them to drain on absorbent towels. “Some people can never be helped enough to overcome their anger.” His smile grew as he looked over his shoulder at Jol and Ospar. “Which is not to say we give up on them.”

  Ospar returned the smile. “Of course not. But you have to admit, they make it damned hard to do that sometimes.”

  “Thank the ancestors for challenges. Otherwise, we would all fall into weakness.”

  Jol thought of the challenges facing Iris, of the strength she showed despite all her problems. Rivek would no doubt think her the perfect example of perseverance. Yet, the Nobek wanted to make her lot not so difficult. Surely there should be more pleasure than pain to life.

  Jol wished he could do more for her than put up a fence and keep her home warm, something that might erase the darkness in her eyes.

  * * * *

  Morning’s first light was barely in the sky when Iris approached the Kalquorian Temple of Life. She held a food container in one hand and Thomas’ wrist with the other. For once the little boy wasn’t struggling to escape her and go his own way. He stared at the temple with wide eyes.

  The structure was beautiful, probably the most stunning Iris had ever seen. It looked like something out of a fairytale. It didn’t quite resemble a castle, but she could almost imagine a princess sleeping somewhere within, waiting for the enchanted kiss of her one true love that would release her from a spell.

  It was so white, it put the surrounding snow to shame. White and blameless enough that it almost seemed made of solidified clouds and vapor. The spired and sweeping architecture couldn’t be pinned down to any specific shape. It was as if a smallish mountain had resolved to turn itself into a something between a gothic cathedral and a palace. As if the earth itself had formed the building at God’s request.

  Iris had never seen its like. She thought she would not be one bit surprised if angels resided here.

  The open entrance that yawned wide yet showed them little of the shadowed interior. As they came closer, a tall figure in robes stepped out. Iris swallowed to see the large Kalquorian watching them with interest, even though his demeanor couldn’t have been more welcoming. After all, he was only the second of the alien race she’d been up close to despite living the last year on Haven. Most Earthers kept away from their hosts, especially since the E.I.K. had begun threatening everyone.

  Yet she didn’t really feel fear as she looked at the alien. She felt more a sense of anticipation.

  The priest – Iris assumed he was the Kalquorian equivalent of a priest – was as amazing a sight as the temple itself. His features were strong, as if sculpted from granite. It seemed to Iris that such robust masculine features should make this man look as fierce as Jol. Instead, he radiated kindness and warmth. The forward part of his black hair was b
raided at the temples and the rest left loose to hang to his ankles. She’d never seen such long hair on anyone.

  His robes matched the snowscape and temple with shimmering layers of white, gray, and blue. Bare feet peeked from beneath the flowing hems. A braided cord of silver circled his waist. He somehow managed to look ethereal as vapor and solid as granite at the same time.

  Iris had never seen his like anywhere, yet he looked ... right. As if he was what she had expected to see, though she’d not known what to expect when she drove here.

  As she and Thomas neared this amazing specimen of the Kalquorian race, he bowed to her. “Good day, Matara. May I assist you with something?”

  The man’s voice was smooth, like brushed silk. It tickled Iris’ ears and seemed to slip down her spine. She had to restrain a shiver. First Jol’s distant thunder voice, and now this. It made her wonder if all Kalquorians had such distinctive tones. But then, Thomas had a musical voice himself, like the tinkling of piano keys. Maybe it was simply the way she heard things.

  Iris smiled at the nice priest. “Hi. I, um, I was looking for Imdiko Rivek? I understand he’s a priest here?”

  The Kalquorian’s eyebrows rose. “I am Rivek. Please enter.” He swept an arm towards the entrance.

  Iris blinked. “You’re Imdiko Rivek? Oh, well, I don’t want to take up any of your time. I’m here because your Nobek did a wonderful thing for us yesterday.”

  Rivek cocked his head as he regarded her. “You are Matara Iris? And this must be Thomas.” He leaned down and widened his gentle smile at the boy. “Hello, Thomas.”

  Thomas not only looked the Kalquorian in the face, he even responded without prompting. “Hello. Train.”

  He held out his latest construction for Rivek’s inspection. It was the same engine he’d shown Jol the day before, plus a caboose he’d made from a small wooden box that Iris had kept her sewing needles in. She still hadn’t found all of the needles after Thomas had dumped them on the floor. No doubt bare feet would seek out each and every one for weeks on end.

 

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