The committee building towards the edge of downtown, was a squat one-story building. It looked like an old-style church, with large narrow windows and pews lining the inside, but any organization in Beir could use it as long as they cleaned it up. It had been constructed with wood, which Celes found to be stupid; why build with wood when they had self-healing concrete and nanosteel?
Inside, many people either sat in the pews chatting or leaned on the walls, shrugging and muttering darkly. No one stood on the platform that faced the pews. Her father stopped by the back pew, finding his drinking buddies, Ferrell and Takeshi, when they hailed them over. Celes nodded politely to Takeshi’s surly teenaged daughter, who just continued to glare at Takeshi.
Looking around, Celes found several of her teachers and about half of her classmates. Elliot’s posse meandered around the pews, jumping over them while adults loudly chastised them. Elliot was missing, but she didn’t mind his absence whatsoever.
Celes’ father moved to sit next to Ferrell, and Celes followed him, sitting next to the aisle. Ferrell and Takeshi moved into a conversation while Takeshi’s daughter, Kiko, lightly swung her heel against the pew support. Celes’ father fell silent, his head turned towards his friends, and Celes chanced a glimpse into everyone’s thoughts. Immediately, the loud sounds of people increased tenfold, with voices both audible and mental overlapping and weaving with each other. The chaos of it made the space between Celes’ eyes hurt. She wanted to know if anyone knew how long this would take, but only heard a bunch of complaints.
>>No idea what is going on—<<
>>Benitz should stop wasting money on stupid crap and fix this building—<<
>>—Jerk better give me a raise for making me come here on my day off—<<
>>This sucks; I dunno why dad drags me around places, it’s such bull—<<
Frowning, Celes narrowed her range down to her father, the voices slowly quieting as she did so. Mentally, at least.
>>—do this.<< Her father’s voice was soft, muffled underneath a thick blanket of… something. She could never figure out what it was. Many people had that ‘blanket’ too, but her father’s felt deeper, thicker, and darker. She believed the alcohol made it that way. >>Better this—failed—again?<<
She frowned, closing off the connection. Too much static and it made little sense. She sat back against the pew, taking out her datapad from her pocket and starting up a game. At the corner of her eye her father shot her a disapproving look, but he said nothing, so she continued to move the blocks around to fit the designed pattern on the datapad.
Several minutes later, a voice called, “The meeting will begin,” and immediately the packed committee hall quieted. A couple people giggled and others hushed them, the murmurs slowly dying out. Her father nudged her ribs, and dutifully Celes closed down the game and stowed the datapad back in her pocket. She sighed in resignation for being stuck in a very boring meeting for several hours.
The Vice President of the Beir Committee stood on the platform, helping others to quiet, before he announced the Beir Committee President, Franklin Benitz. From a side door by the platform, Mr. Benitz entered with Elliot, and Celes’ mood darkened. Mr. Benitz looked like a puffed-up peacock, his crisp suit changing colors while Elliot strutted on stage, wearing a matching suit that flashed neon colors with his hair combed back like his dad’s. He looked so ridiculous that Celes had to cover her mouth to muffle her laughter.
“Good evening, everyone,” Mr. Benitz boomed to the quiet audience. “Thank you all for coming.”
Several dozen people muttered, “You’re welcome,” while most of them stayed silent, either staring at him or their eyes glazing over in preemptive boredom.
Mr. Benitz frowned, not pleased with the lackluster greeting, but motioned for his son to sit in the nearest pew. Elliot glared at his father but did as he was told, and once out of view Celes’ headache magically went away.
“There are several things I want to present today,” Mr. Benitz said, looking around as if he were a stern teacher lecturing a class. “First up is a lack of comradery. I employ most of you, and—”
Celes sighed and looked at the ceiling as Mr. Benitz droned on about teamwork. Oh man, this is already so boring, ugh. Her mind slipped out of reality, the town hall and its people faded, and a metal interior of a ship formed in their absence.
Windows lined the narrow passage, glittering stars winking at her as the ship flew by. A door hissed open, and an Iaiedal, tall with pink eyes and military uniform, faced and saluted her.
>>Captain Dušánek, we found an anomaly,<< they said, their ‘voice’ sounding layered. >>Permission to investigate?<<
>>Permission granted,<< she said, saluting her XO back. She stood taller and looked older, with a scar over her left eye that she earned when she battled a vicious XIK and won.
The daydream continued to the point of reaching the cockpit to see a slug like creature bigger than their ship floating lazily in space, when she heard “—Varôk.” Quickly withdrawing from her daydream, the cockpit view of the floating slug melted away, replaced by Mr. Benitz pacing the stage.
“—very important. Some of you are from Valen, and know that Varôks should be honored,” Mr. Benitz stated, looking at them all.
Several dozen people visibly stiffened, and her father balled his hands into fists. Mr. Benitz looked around for effect, then continued.
“The Galaxy likes to pretend the Verakas virus is on the decline and will eventually die down, and maybe that’s true. However, for the outlying colonies that don’t have fancy defenses? We rely on Varôks, who risk their lives for us to live. Our government doesn’t have the skill needed and just wants to nuke the place; who cares who is in the vicinity, if there are crops that people depend on, a warehouse that is the sole provider of a product which allows that town to exist?”
The entire room fell silent, so silent that Celes almost didn’t breathe in concern of making a sound.
Mr. Benitz looked around, nodding to several people when they nodded to him in agreement. “Raxdrýn is the only organization that can extract XIKs and ensure that the Verakas virus doesn’t spread. Not only that, they have research facilities, and came up with the vaccines more effective than the GA's or Ascendancy’s. They now have a division that protects government officials and political events.”
Murmurs went through the town hall, people turning to each other whispering. Cocking her head, Celes listened to Mr. Benitz, wondering why he talked about Raxdrýn so eagerly. Reaching out mentally, she could feel excitement and anxious ambition radiating off him, as if he had won the lottery. Withdrawing, Celes squinted at him. No one talked about Raxdrýn, especially the people from Valen, yet Mr. Benitz talked about them as if they were his ticket off the planet.
“I have here with me a Varôk.” Mr. Benitz raised an arm to the side door, and Celes’ head turned with everyone else’s. She leaned forward, feeling apprehensive.
As if rehearsed ahead of time, the door opened with Mr. Benitz words, and Ayzize stepped through the door, wearing his combat armor. Celes’ eyes widened, and she gaped at him. The armor looked similar to the one he wore when they first met. The memory of three years ago, the black plates melding with the flexible mesh as Ayzize approached her family after the XIK-R attack, her father carrying a crying Zander while holding an anxious Celes’ hand. She could still smell the burning bodies and iron in the air.
Now in the present, Ayzize looked grim, his jaw twitching so much that Celes could see it all the way in the back. She didn’t want to wave to distract him, so she cautiously reached out to him mentally. Instantly, she mentally felt as though she had slammed into a wall, and she physically recoiled. Her father glared at her, and Celes ignored it, staring at Ayzize. What is he doing here and why does he have a barrier?
Several other people recognized him, all of them wincing. Her father merely stared stoically at him. The rest of the town hall leaned in collectively, a mixture of appre
hension and curiosity on their faces.
“This man’s name is Ayzize Nelowie,” Mr. Benitz still pointed at Ayzize, who glared at him, but walked for the platform. “He single-handedly saved Valen and is one of the best agents that Raxdrýn has.” People all looked at each other, muttering and nodding, while Celes stared at him, trying to subtly catch Ayzize’s eye. “From time to time, Raxdrýn agents have to choose an apprentice. This is one of those times.” Mr. Benitz raised an arm again to Ayzize, puffing up in pride. Ayzize rigidly approached him, maintaining his glare on the smaller man.
Mutters started around the crowd, and Celes’ jaw dropped at the announcement. Ayzize only mentioned apprentices once, and he had sounded harried about potentially taking one. Desperately this time, she reached out again, meeting Ayzize’s impenetrable barrier. Scowling in frustration, she immediately focused on Mr. Benitz, whose thoughts virtually screamed from his mind.
He’ll take Elliot, then he will work with security. Mr. Benitz’s voice sounded gleeful and greedy, his thoughts jumbled together. I’ll keep in contact with him, make sure that Elliot goes nowhere near combat, then get Elliot in touch with a few more clients and get out of here—
Celes abruptly ended her reach, gasping as she fell back against the pew. Her chest squeezed tightly and her throat constricted. Her eyes stung at the gathering tears. Ayzize was taking Elliot and leaving. He had the mental barrier up so she wouldn’t find out from him.
If her father noticed her despair, he made no motion to say anything about it, still staring at Mr. Benitz rambling on, saying Beir should be considered lucky that one of their children qualified to become a Varôk. Celes could feel the other’s jealousy and envy. Her throat continued to tighten, and she balled her fists, her nails digging into her palms so hard she felt either sweat or blood moisten her fingertips. While Mr. Benitz worked the crowd and got them agitated, Ayzize stood still, holding his mental barrier. She ground her teeth, glowering at him. Why would he choose that spoiled brat over her?
Hot tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks, and she bowed her head, hoping her father nor anyone else would notice. He was supposed to be different; I thought he liked coming here and talking with me. I thought he cared, but no. He doesn’t care, and he never did; just like the other adults. Dad’s right; Ayzize just felt guilty and buys us food sometimes because he feels like he didn’t save mom, not because he actually likes our family. Her bottom lip trembled, and she took a deep measured breath to stop a sniffle. She wasn’t good enough for her father, wasn’t good enough for Aorírdal, and now wasn’t good enough for Ayzize.
“And so, the reason for this meeting, is to announce that Ayzize Nelowie will take an apprentice.” Mr. Benitz looked like he bounced around the platform, Ayzize coolly watching him. The people looked around, staring at a few children in bewilderment, though some looked in Elliot’s direction. Celes felt like someone had punched her in the gut. “The apprentice—”
“Excuse me,” Ayzize interrupted Mr. Benitz coldly, still glaring at him. His deep voice reverberated around the room, with no need for a microphone. Mr. Benitz stopped, a flash of fear on his face before he turned it into a curious but cautious look. “I would prefer to make the announcement.”
Mr. Benitz gaped at him, before his face split into a pleased grin. “Well, of course! It is your apprentice, after all.” He stepped back, raising a hand for Ayzize to continue.
Ayzize bowed his head to Mr. Benitz, then turned to face the crowd in the pews. Some leaned forward, while others grabbed their children’s hand in fear. Whispers went around the room, dying down abruptly while waiting for Ayzize to speak. Celes bowed her head again, her heart heavy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone close to her left for good.
“I chose my apprentice after careful consideration of their medical files and their mental aptitude for the security sector,” Ayzize said, power behind his voice. The people still leaned in, their focus solely on Ayzize as Mr. Benitz smirked in the background. “They have displayed traits desirable for Raxdrýn: courage, adaptability, and perseverance. Some would say, that they are already a fighter.”
She blinked, her chest squeezing. Wait…
“The apprentice I choose,” Ayzize projected his voice throughout the town hall, “is Celeste Dušánek.”
Celes whipped her head up, finding Ayzize on the platform and staring directly at her, wearing a genuine smile. Her mouth dropped, eyes wide as the town hall went into an uproar. People talked in confusion, parents hugged their children with grateful praises, while others stood up, looking around for her.
Mr. Benitz stared incredulously at Ayzize for a split second before he sputtered, “Wait, what?”
“Change in plan.” Ayzize hopped off the platform, landing on the stone floor and ignoring the people who stood up to get a closer look at him, all of them watching eagerly to see whom he approached. “Your son does not meet the qualifications, but this one…”
Relieved tears streaming down her face, Celes squeezed out of the pew, not caring what her father would do, and ran to Ayzize. She threw her arms around him while trying not to sob, and he patted her head, finishing, “… but this one does.”
The people continued buzzing, though some people tentatively clapped. Mr. Benitz started yelling, and after Celes pulled back and looked around Ayzize, Mr. Benitz stomped towards the edge of the platform, yelling and shaking a finger at Ayzize.
“No, no! We had a deal, Nelowie!” Mr. Benitz shrieked, hobbling off the platform. Elliot, still unseen, yelled some very bad words from his pew. “How dare you take this kid instead after I sent Raxdrýn that investment?! Either you take my son and get me off this planet, or I will make sure—”
“I couldn't care less what you do.” Ayzize glared back at Mr. Benitz. Suddenly, Mr. Benitz stopped in his tracks, staring at Ayzize. Mr. Benitz’s face morphed from intense anger, to irritation, to fear, then to terror in five seconds, Ayzize maintaining eye contact. Celes could feel Ayzize doing something to Mr. Benitz’s mind, though she didn’t know what.
“C’mon, let’s go.” Ayzize patted Celes’ shoulder, turning away from Mr. Benitz. Extracting herself from him, she wiped away tears, her chest now full of hope and pride. No one checked on the blubbering Mr. Benitz, and some even pointed and smirked at him. Celes turned back with Ayzize, her eyes landing on her father. Still sitting in the pews, he looked deeply sad, his eyes faraway, but oddly… relieved.
Ayzize motioned for her father to follow, and as he got up from the pew, Takeshi and Ferrell both stood up as well, clearly unsure if they should offer support or condolences. “We have much to discuss,” Ayzize said, then added to Takeshi and Ferrell, “privately.”
Celes’ father nodded in agreement, and side by side, they all walked out of the town hall, whispers, hoots, hollers, and yells of congratulations following them out. Celes gripped Ayzize’s forearm, staring up at him with wide eyes. She had not felt wanted or needed since her mom had died and Zander had left. She finally had a way off this planet, and she would help fight against the monsters that killed her mother. And perhaps one day, no matter how, she would find and meet her brother again.
Seven
Two dozen young adults gathered in the center of the atrium, wearing the same long robes of Aorírdal Krians in periwinkle and cream. In front of them stood the Council Leliches in their full regalia of glittering stark white and gold robes, heads bowed together as they spoke. The vast majority of Aorírdal formed a circle around and above the Leliches and apprentices in the balconies, audible and mental chatter bouncing around the atrium. The nanosteel sheets over the ceiling windows had slid open, showing an unobstructed view of the Tyli nebula. The apprentices chattered nervously, their excitement contagious, and Xenith was no exception… if his academic cap stayed on properly.
“Why do you insist on wearing that infuriating thing?” Nentok scowled, his black eyes flicking to Xenith’s cap. Nentok’s robes draped over his spindly body, and instead of a hat, he w
ore an accessory mimicking short dragonfly wings on his back. “You and the other humans look ridiculous.”
“It’s a tradition!” Xenith hissed, scowling as he tried to move the board on top of his cap to make it perfectly flat while he glanced to the six other humans graduating with them. They all wore academic caps, fiddling with their tassels and straightening them. One had an eagle feather as a tassel, and another wore a kente cloth stole around his shoulders. “You don’t hear me mocking your wings.”
“That’s because they look cool and we used to have them,” Nentok’s mandibles shifted in an expression of regret.
“It’s been a million years.” Xenith moved his hands back and forth, a Jareshi movement for consoling. “Let it go.”
“You’re a jerk,” Nentok hissed in laughter.
“You say that as if we didn’t know already,” Qianii clicked as she wove her way to them. A line of pink pearls draped over her ornate skull cap with shells and more pearls, and her makeup complimented the white bioluminescent patterns on her face. “Wow,” she said, her large eyes sweeping over them. “Krian robes suit you two well.”
Xenith grinned in pride as Nentok chittered in agreement. “Thanks. You look great as a Krian too. I like the pearls.”
“Thank you,” she said, adjusting the gems. “They’re pretty but kind of irritating to keep them in place. You two still don’t know what you’re going to do?”
“No.” Nentok rubbed his three-fingered hands together. “I’m on the rotation track. Thought about caretaker, but Hsa-bane sounds pretty cool too.”
“Same,” Xenith nodded, trying not to think on it too much. He worked hard in school but now about to graduate, he had no idea what he wanted to do. “We don’t all know what we wanted to do since we were kids.”
Qianii puffed up, looking proud. “Well, I’m meant to be a teacher. Nothing else has felt right.”
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