by Reiter
“Do you like it?” Nugar asked. “He calls it T’Saru.” Saru closed her eyes against the sting of the name. The word T’Sarr translated into body or sacred form, depending on the context. Even the formal name of the Star-Stride, T’Surran T’Sarr, meant the sacred body in sacred form and was revered by the Vinthur.
Saru could not deny the grace and beauty of the kata. She was not as proficient with the basic forms as her kommis and gemnur, but she could take care of herself in a fight. Still, the style Nugar was demonstrating was more graceful than the forms of the Star-Stride with which she was familiar. Tears ran down her face as she watched Nugar.
“It is beautiful,” she admitted.
“You should try it,” Nugar suggested. “It has done wonders for me.”
Saru fell to her knees and cried. How had the two of them managed to slip a lifetime in between the brief moments? Her time with Dungias was less than brief and yet more than fulfilling. She had meant every word, feeling that she was more than a woman when she was in his eyes. But that glance, that touch, was gone now and she felt so empty.
“You really should give it a try,” Nugar insisted. “You might find it helpful.”
“I am not an Osur!” she snapped back. “I don’t have an Osamu!”
“I think you are forgetting the one to whom you bequeathed your love,” Nugar said in mid-spin. Saru’s head came up as she looked at the Master Traveler. “Do you see that shrine-like construct on the far wall?” Saru quickly got up and started looking around the room. She completely missed the entrance of a groggy and angry Laejem. Her eyes were soon fixed on a small stand in the far corner. Her name had been engraved into metal and then painted with gold. Saru bolted across the large room, finally coming to a stop in front of a stand where a slender rod of silver and titanium floated over a pillow.
“I call mine Alpha,” Dungias’ voice spoke to her. “This one is yours to name, my love.” Saru took the Osamu and there was a flash of light from the first contact the two made. She gasped at the power that flowed into her body from the rod. She took to her own kata as her eyes maintained a white glow. Laejem called to his saytrah, but Nugar quickly told the young Vinthur to leave her be. What she shared was between her and her mate.
“Besides, yours is over there,” Nugar pointed out. Though thicker and heavier, Laejem’s Osamu was no less impressive, and the introduction was just as powerful. While Saru remained light and agile, Laejem was grounded and full of force and potency.
“Two shades of the same power,” Nugar thought. “And Gravity is considered a poor choice.” Nugar laughed as he returned to his kata. “For some, anyway. For some.”
“This changes nothing,” Laejem announced. “We will just have to follow him.”
“And how will you do that?” Nugar asked.
“It’s your ship,” Laejem pointed out, coming out of his pattern. “Surely you can track it.”
“I most surely can,” Nugar said, keying a command in on the computer. “There is it, in the very same hangar we put it in eight star-terms ago.”
“Did he take another ship?”
“No.”
“Then he is still here!” Laejem declared. “Gemnur, did you not say he could not Jump-Stride?!”
Nugar laughed as he spun. Laejem’s attention was drawn to his saytrah; he could hear her giggling. “And what do you find so amusing?”
“My husband,” she answered. “He is a most amusing man!”
“Don’t you care where he’s gone?!”
“My caring will not alter his course,” she replied. “He has seen to that.” Saru stopped for a moment to look at her kommis. “Laejem, did you think he would take us along as he treks his way to whatever fate the Stars have set for him?”
“I would have trekked with him. I would fight and bleed for him!” Laejem declared.
“So would everyone in this room, but recognize he would not ask… he could never ask. And I believe it is because my nyaka does not wish to be a hypocrite.” Nugar chuckled as Laejem stood more confused. “How could he ask us to trek the course of his life when we should be about the business of trekking our own?”
“But what if our life-trek is to be at his side?!”
“Dungias can do many things, kommis,” Saru said as she smiled. “… but not even he can change a fate that is not his own. If that is our trek, and I believe mine to be along that very heading, then we follow it and we will be where we need to be when the moment is right. At this moment, take comfort in two things: obviously, Dungias does not need us and… we have time to prepare for when he does!
“And damn him for finding the means to not only lessen the sting of his departure, but to remind me of my own words. Yes, damn him, and bless him in the same breath.”
Laejem wanted to continue arguing, but Saru merely resumed her kata. A quick glance at Nugar told the young Vinthur his gemnur was not going to say anything in contrast to Saru’s perspective. He looked at his Osamu and sighed. He took a few steps away from the two of them and closed his eyes. he did not want to displace his anger, he wanted to give it form and he exploded into a fierce kata that was fast, harsh and incredibly powerful. Ten strides into that he stopped, breathed in deeply and the let the softness of T’Saru wash over him.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
The time spent with the Radients had been too brief, but Dungias did not want to chance the senses of his Kwinsoah or his grandchildren detecting him nearby. While his teacher was aware of the Radients, he had yet to meet them, and it did not seem to Dungias that Nugar had made any great haste to correct the issue. It might have had something to do with the fact that the story he had told Dungias had been confirmed with a few more facts filled delivered.
A few pleasantries were exchanged and Dungias was glad that he did not have to bring the Radients up on the events of his life. They had seen everything that Alpha had seen, which they knew to be more than what Dungias had had time to review and discover, and were very impressed with his adventures. They had even taken to learning T’Saru, finding it to be quite a delight and an aid with their focus and frustrations. Being harmed and inhibited, they had been ignorant of so many things going on in the sector of space where they had been created and tasked to serve. Now that they had regained their functions, there was sour to go along with the sweet. Berylon had to keep his mate from pressing Dungias about finding the keys so that he could send new students to The Campus. After general conversation, Dungias had been able to move on to other matters.
After a few questions, the young Traveler was able to ascertain one of the abilities of the female Radients. He had remembered the image shown to him when they formed into a ring. As he had guessed, it was a portal device capable of transport. Fortunately, the destination was something of a default. The attendants could send a person anywhere, so long as they were able to read an impression of the intended drop point. Dungias could only think of one place that would suit his needs. He focused his mind and the female attendants had little trouble in creating the door. In fact, they were slightly insulted that he had chosen a destination that, for them, was so close. Dungias apologized for his lack of travels, and bowed to the female Radients. They smiled and maintained the portal. The young Malgovi stepped through the aperture onto the sands just outside the Iro-Curtain of the megacity TehShagu. Not wanting to attract the Grenbi, he did not waste time reminiscing over the last time he had stood upon this ground. He turned back at the portal and waved farewell at his friend Sai-Eg.
“Keep a hold of this, my friend,” Sai-Eg said, tossing a sparkling gem toward his friend. “Use it if you should need a quick way back. Reading places to send you is one thing… being able to read you… well, they won’t even need me for that.” Dungias held up the stone in a salute and started for the city. By the time the portal closed, the gem was safely stowed away in Alpha. Although the barrier was programmed not to injure the Malgovi genetic pattern, Dungias did not want anyone to know where he was at the moment. It
was too easy a scenario for him to follow the registry of the barrier to the Duke’s database and from there to the Throne. It was simpler to use the Star-Stride to jump the fence and walk for the city. He could hear the scurrying of the Grenbi as his feet touched down on the safe side of the barrier, and he lifted the hood of his cloak over his head. Dungias looked back for a moment as his hand took a stronger hold of Alpha.
“This is… unexpected!” he whispered, turning to face the barrier. Five trams from the barrier stood a Grenbi, a very large and powerful one. It just stood there, looking at the Malgovi. It was not thrashing about or testing the barrier as some of the large ones were known to do. Dungias closed his eyes and extended his senses toward the creature.
“Was … not… trying … to eat… you!” he perceived before the Grenbi quickly turned and skimmed over the sands.
“You there!” an authoritative voice called out to Dungias. “What is your business here?!”
“Just a Traveler, my master,” Dungias said as he turned to face the constable. “Taking in the sights of my Malgovi brethren.” The way he had turned and placed his hand on his hips, Dungias was sure the constable would see his belt buckle. He hoped the erstwhile member of the city guard would presume him to be Vinthur and move on.
“Your brethren are in the K’Dalkian System, Traveler,” the constable retorted. “If you have a wise eye in that head of yours, you’ll be on your way as soon as you can.”
“That was the intent, master,” Dungias replied while bowing. “Thank you for the course correction.”
“Damn Vinthur,” the constable muttered as he boarded his slide-sled, thinking he was too far away to be heard. “They’re just as bad as the damned shay-spawn.”
“It is good to be home,” Dungias thought as he stopped bowing and resumed his walk. He did not walk directly to the Z’Gunok Household; he wanted to see if this feeling was simply an immediate impression or a definite change in his perspective. For a megacity, TehShagu seemed very small to him. The buildings, the people, the vehicles… all of them seemed too small to support adult life. Dungias pressed on and smiled at a banner that was being uploaded to a city monitor. The second Iro-Games for the orbi-term was only a few star-terms away. His gold eyes closed for a moment and the Four Rounds played in front of him. He smiled at the memory, and decided to make his way through the city using the side streets and alleyways.
“Remember Dungias!” a voice cried out and Dungias spun on his heels to see a young boy standing on the shoulders of a statue of Duke MarrZo. He held up some sort of projector to the monitor and the programming was interrupted. Dungias looked to see himself from two orbi-terms ago. His head swung back and forth as he took note of the people who were cheering at the playback. He watched as the boy jumped down just before a stun pod struck the statue. The pulse of blue light burst out in all directions but failed to reach the dodging lad.
“A quick one,” Dungias thought as he looked around the square. “But lacking in vision. The constables seem to have been lying in wait for this.
“Go left!” Dungias thought, sending an ushering pulse of gravity to the running boy. He smiled under his hood when the boy took a sharp left turn and a stun pod struck another constable. Three more suddenly lost their footing, a thin layer of antigravity preventing their footwear from gaining any traction as they tried to match the boy’s turns. In all of the commotion, the youth made good his escape and Dungias resumed his trek while he considered what he had witnessed. After two orbi-terms, he would have presumed that his time in the arena would be forgotten. It was a strange comfort to have been wrong… a stranger feeling to realize that his name and performance had been associated to a long-suffered social issue.
As it grew dark in the city, Dungias could feel more and more eyes turning his way. He tried his best to remain inconspicuous, and it was customary for shay-spawn to wear clothing to prevent their faces from being seen, but that clothing was often made of tattered fabrics, not the fine make of his cloak. Dungias could feel anxiety behind the following eyes. A careful glance into a reflective surface and he even saw one young male licking his lips. Dungias was not yet in the district where he wanted to seek shelter, but it seemed foolish to remain outside when there were other alternatives.
“Welcome stranger!” a young female greeted him as he entered the house of bottled spirits. Dungias pulled back his hood and nodded toward the female. “Hmmm, make that handsome stranger!” Dungias’ eyes squinted at the woman as she was demonstrating very inappropriate behavior and for some reason he had felt a fleeting sense of iro-form flowing that died in a very brief passing. “Don’t worry, Vu-Prin,” she said, smacking his shoulder. “All are welcome here, the glittered and unglittered alike.”
“Unglittered?” Dungias asked. “Forgive me, but I’ve been away for some time. I do not understand what you said.”
“How long is some time?” the young woman asked while directing Dungias to a seat at the bar.
“She seems friendly, but it is a ruse.” Dungias thought. “In my attempt to find some measure of safe haven, I might have worsened my position.
“The better part of three orbi-terms,” he replied, detecting two of the people who had been following him on the street enter into the establishment. As he looked to the door, Dungias could see a well hidden reader scan both of the men and register them as iro-form-capable Malgovi.
“And I have already been read as shay-spawn!” he considered. “How long before that reading transmits my face to a database?”
“So before the whole shay-spawn filth problem!” she said as she lifted her tray and brought it down for the back of Dungias’ head. She hit the back of the tall stool as Dungias spun away from the chair. He held up his hands as if to signify he did not want to fight, but that he was ready to exercise the option if necessary.
“I do not want any trouble,” he said calmly. “I humbly ask to be allowed to leave this fine establishment.”
“You should have hidden your face before curfew,” one of the patrons said, standing up from his seat. “And just what are you?” the man asked. “You’re too finely dressed to work in the mines.”
“The spoils of contending with Mal-Vin matters,” Dungias replied, opting not to lie so much as stretch the truth. “Forgive my impertinence, masters. By your will I will take my leave.”
“He’s certainly not as brash as most of the others,” a woman said as her eyes began to glow with iro-form. “The Mal-Vin must keep a strict house.”
“I don’t really care!” one of the men just in from the street remarked as his hands began to glow. “Look at how he stands there, as if he is going to defend himself against any of us!”
“A habit, my master,” Dungias said, lowering his hands to belt level. The man moved forward, firing focused light from his hand. Dungias turned at the shoulder and the bolt passed behind him, exploding against the wall of the bar. Glasses shattered and lights sparked as they began to fail.
“Look at what he did!” the waitress cried. “Call a constable!”
“You there, on my left,” Dungias thought. “You think I don’t notice you. Act now. ACT!”
“Shay-spawn,” the man cried, releasing two bolts of electricity.
Dungias took them into his chest and hip, absorbing their power and sending it to Alpha. He threw himself up and over the bar, falling to the ground and activating his stealth field. Reaching the Star-Stride, he jumped up and over the bar, clearing it and landing on the floor two trams in front of the rear door. The patrons and the followers all focused one iro-form or another into the bar area.
“And there are more,” he thought, spinning out of the way of three more who came running in through the back door. They joined in the attack the moment the word shay-spawn was uttered. Dungias looked at the delight in their faces as they fired destructive iro-forms into the floor. Dungias closed his eyes and remembered the voice of his Saru. He smiled at the feeling of her soft and soothing tones. Without a need to re
turn the warm reception he had received, Dungias took his leave. He thought it best to remain invisible until he found a place where shay-spawn were actually welcome.
After two s’tonki of searching, he could not find such a place. In fact, he could not find any shay-spawn. Taking to the roof of an estate that held an impressive field of trees near the household, he lowered the stealth field and replenished his waning battery with the energy he had absorbed. His cloak, once folded, made a fitting pillow and Dungias closed his eyes and tried to get some rest. It was not long before he heard the engines of sky-sleds approaching, and he barely escaped the notice of five constables who had apparently picked up on a life-form outside of the estate house and decided to investigate. Dungias then searched for a larger estate and used his intangibility field to walk through the wall. He made his way up to a loft that was only being used for storage and fell to sleep there.
“It is good to be home,” he whispered before rolling over.
Stealing away from the grounds just before dawn, Dungias made his way to the less affluent side of the city. He had an easier time moving about as there were a multitude of shay-spawn on their way to their jobs. The way he was dressed suggested to most that he either worked for or was somehow linked to someone of station. As such, the commoner would not dare to look him in the face. Oddly enough, as the s’tonki passed, the looks rose higher and higher on his person and responses turned more bitter. One older man even shoulder-bumped him intentionally. Finding more than what he had expected, the man was falling down when Dungias caught him.
“My apologies, my lord,” the man stammered to say.
“Actually, it was my fault,” Dungias replied, straightening the man’s jacket. “Anyone could see you were intent on crossing the walkway.”
“Intention is no excuse for bad man– by the Stars!” the man gasped after looking at Dungias. He started to speak when Dungias pressed his hand over the man’s mouth and pushed him, using the Star-Stride, to reach the mouth of an alleyway.