“A lot of the nurses look tired though,” Xenith said, and flinched at the thought of Hsa-Bane Artimovich pummeling him for sounding accusatory.
>>I won’t lie; this can be a demanding job, and even on slow days, it can be tiresome,<< Dr. Oluri said, checking over the rest of his arm to make sure she got the biggest welts. >>Remove your shirt so I can inspect your back, please.<<
“Ew, no one wants to see that,” Nentok said, making a face at Xenith when Dr. Oluri shot him a glare.
“Least I don’t have to see you without one,” Xenith smirked, turning around on the bed so Dr. Oluri could inspect his back. Nentok chuffed out a laugh.
Dr. Oluri worked over Xenith’s back, irritation leaking from her mind, though Xenith didn’t mind since he heard her stray thought, >>I’m having a word with Artimovich if another Krian comes in with bruises all over them; I couldn't care less if she’s jumped three ranks in two years, she doesn’t get to beat people up whenever she wants.<< Nentok looked on, watching Dr. Oluri’s closely as she healed the bruises.
While perhaps only fifteen patients came in during their shift, Nentok and Xenith became rather busy. Xenith had basic first aid knowledge with humans so Dr. Oluri put him in charge of them since nothing more serious than two cuts came through. In the meantime, Dr. Oluri guided Nentok through some Medpsy techniques.
As Xenith used a decon-light to wave over his hands at the back of the room, he watched Dr. Oluri guide Nentok’s hands over an older Guanghial’s sinewy back, light rippling underneath the skin. Nentok didn’t look thrilled at the contact, but he kept his mouth shut. Smiling, Xenith went back to sanitizing his hands.
After their shift ended, they walked to the cafeteria together, though Nentok looked exhausted. His usually jerky but quick movements slowed, and his train of thought drifted away more than once.
“Hey, you OK?” Xenith asked, stopping Nentok as they reached the lift.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, just thinking,” Nentok said, one eye looking back towards the clinic’s direction.
While usually Xenith would have replied with something witty like, ‘Wow, that’s rare; no wonder you look so tired,’, he would not tease him if it were something serious. “About Medpsy?” Xenith already knew, but felt Nentok would feel better talking about it.
“Yeah.” Nentok’s mandibles shivered as the lift doors opened, following Xenith inside. “I didn’t expect to... actually be able to do that,” he said as Xenith scanned for the atrium level.
Xenith went to scratch his face until he remembered all the microbes he found in a small sample of his skin Dr. Oluri had shown him with her Tristat, and put his hand down. “That’s not surprising. You’ve been great at bio-sensory data, and you’ve been pretty good at finding things that feel or look ‘off’,” he said thoughtfully. “Sometimes too well, but it is a useful skill. Medpsy healing? That’s hard, and you did it like it was nothing.”
“It took quite a bit out of me, and I asked Dr. Oluri if it was unusual for people to learn to heal quickly,” Nentok replied, “and she said it could be easier for others, but it wasn’t uncommon.”
“Still sounds special to me,” Xenith grinned.
Nentok made a hacking sound, which he only did if he felt bashful. “You’d think I’d be used to sappy stuff by now from you, but I guess you could feed my ego a bit more.”
“That’s all I’m giving you today. I still remember that ‘ass-kicked-itis’ comment.”
“I didn’t know it was Hsa-Bane Artimovich who taught you, out of all people. She would’ve torn off half my limbs,” he waved them around in emphasis. “Doesn’t matter if I can regrow them, she’d probably snap them off again.”
Xenith frowned. “Yeah, she’s a bit... scary... but I don’t think she would’ve snapped them off. With how much she threw me around, I don’t think it was as bad as it could’ve been. Just a word to the wise: if she teaches you during rotation, just make sure your questions don’t sound questioning.”
“What does that even mean?” Nentok asked, the lift doors sliding open to reveal the atrium. While still a work in progress, moss and vines hung from the balconies with a curtain of flowers, and some tree saplings had already doubled in height.
“Don’t make it sound like you doubt her,” Xenith clarified, following Nentok into the atrium. Several dozen people, from tiny Melyns to imposing Leliches, strolled towards the cafeteria, and Xenith winced from both audible and mental noise. “But are you thinking of continuing the rotation?”
Nentok shot a look at him in surprise with one glittering eye. “What do you mean?”
“You were a natural at healing.”
“Just because you are good at something doesn’t mean you are destined to do it.”
“True, but do you want to do it?”
Nentok paused, falling behind a Lelich and a Caretaker chatting about the news. “I don’t know. I actually kinda liked it, though I dunno about feeling this tired and Dr. Oluri said I should be more sympathetic.”
“Would you have teased a kid like you did to me?”
“Of course not!” Nentok looked appalled, mandibles fluttering again. “I know I can come off as callous sometimes, but I’m not intentionally a jerk. I just say jerk-like things. To you. Twice a day.”
“I know, but you’re not really a jerk. You wouldn’t have spent so much energy on me to heal my bruises,” Xenith replied, smiling and waving an arm.
“Twice you’ve been sappy today.” Nentok trained both eyes on him. “What’s going on?”
“I think you should give more credit to yourself and not hold back on it,” Xenith stated. He didn’t need to hear the doubts in Nentok’s mind to know his friend often hesitated in showcasing his abilities.
“Fine,” Nentok relented. “I will have to think on it, but... ugh, I don’t know why I’m so fixated on this. Even if I go with this and it doesn’t pan out, I can switch out to something else easily. It’s not like my livelihood depends on it. Sorry, Jareshi thing, since we usually only have one career, ever.”
Xenith’s smile slipped. He remembered the long nights he kept his brother and sister entertained when he was young, his mother and father not being able to get back home until late at night. While his parents looked happy to be home, he remembered how exhausted they were, and sometimes only sipped coffee while the kids ate. “Yeah, human thing too,” he said, hitching up his smile. “But we get that luxury here, so may as well enjoy it, huh?”
“Yeah.” Nentok’s mandibles moved again. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I still haven’t decided, but I don’t think I should be so afraid of it either. Thanks.”
“Anytime man, anytime,” Xenith grinned, refusing to let his thoughts venture back to his family again. He felt lost enough without worrying about how they fared back on Yuri.
∆∆∆
Three days later, Xenith woke up from a fitful sleep. With blankets wrapped around his legs, he rubbed his eyes, the light in his room brightening gently. The sound of wind rolling over snowy hills made him grimace, and with a wave of his hand he shut the sound off. It sounded too much like home, and he didn’t feel like reminiscing again. He got off the bed and dressed quickly, and while he still felt a bit of pride with the pale blue sash, it had faded with self-doubt.
The previous two days had been frustrating and rather useless. None of the jobs he had done had really panned out to his liking. He had been in life-support in engineering, and at first he liked the quiet; fewer people around to overhear. However, it was highly technical, involved a lot of math, and was rather lonely. The day after that he shadowed a caretaker for cooking. He got some recipes down and actually enjoyed making a meal. However, when he served it multiple times to hundreds of people, the barrage of thoughts and the work itself almost made him quit in the middle of dinner service. While already respectful to the Caretakers, he had severely underestimated the work they did daily, and now thanked them profusely anytime he saw them.
He felt increasingly lost and afra
id. Even though he had told Nentok there wasn’t a rush to find a job and nor was it permanent, he couldn’t shake the same feeling from himself, especially since he hadn’t shared a detail that Mato had told him two weeks ago.
When Xenith had last seen Mato when they discussed ‘The Purpose’ ritual, Mato had finished making their tea and handed a cup to Xenith, sitting next to him while they looked out onto the Tyli Nebula.
“Do other people have access to the Rivers like we do?” Xenith had asked, sipping on his tea, the aroma of bitter earth rising to his nostrils.
Mato had chuckled. “They would be runals, and we have been rather careful about making sure we didn’t have anyone go undocumented. Last thing we would need is a clairvoyant giving unsolicited advice to anyone or anything, lest it mess up timelines.”
Xenith had nodded. After Mato’s advice he had watched a lot of media depicting the dangers—and appeals—of changing time and felt Mato was right. “So, all clairvoyants are accounted for?” he had asked, looking to Mato, and the first time thought Mato might feel alone. The Enduring was the only other clairvoyant in Aorírdal, and while Aorírdal may take only the best or more dangerous Psychics, only two of the near several thousand Psychics were clairvoyant. That had to be lonely.
“Mmh,” Mato had turned his head, his black lips turning downward in thought. “There were several others in the Guilds and Colleges, though their access is only several seconds in advance and not on command, and only focuses on themselves. Still would be dangerous if unaccounted for, but the Guilds and Colleges can help them. Anyone who could see further, or anyone else’s future, would have to be here.”
“Ah.” Xenith had paused, then asked, “You ever get lonely?”
Mato had chuckled, a deep rumble from his broad chest. “I never really saw it that way,” he had said, giving Xenith a half smile. “If anything, because I was the only clairvoyant—besides The Enduring—I was arrogant about it.”
“You? Arrogant?” Xenith couldn’t picture it.
“Oh, yes. I knew eventually in time I would wise up about it, but it was still a rather rude awakening when I was knocked down from my pedestal,” he had smiled, as if fondly remembering an experience. “I had seen myself as someone special, someone needed, and very few people had my ability. I had thought myself good at every other ability but when I became a Lelich? Well, what a wake-up call that was.”
Xenith had frowned. “You had to know what would happen during that wake-up call, right?”
“A possibility, but the call itself and the immediate decade proceeding it? I knew absolutely nothing, and that was a very scary prospect, though I didn’t admit it at the time,” Mato had winked to Xenith. “I knew the potential ending, but the journey? Nothing.”
“So... did you game the system to become Prior?” Xenith had asked, hoping he didn’t overstep his boundaries.
Mato had shaken his head his head. “No. It was one of the many possibilities of my future, but there were actually two options regarding my Priorhood: I would either be a horrible Prior, or a decent one. While I certainly did not aim to become Prior, if it ended up that way, I much preferred to be a decent one. The Enduring themselves, as a third party, confirmed that I did not cheat or check the timelines to see what would lead me to success,” he had added, and Xenith felt a little better. He liked Mato a lot and believed he was a good Prior, but it wouldn’t have been fair to have cheated. “Aorírdal has had its share of corrupted and misguided Priors, and will continue to have them, and I would rather not be counted as amongst them.”
“Yeah,” Xenith had replied, several Priors coming to mind. One Prior had secretly encouraged Levan genocide during the Iaiedal-Levan war over a millennium ago; another endorsed abducting primitive aliens for research (records were sealed if humans were a part of it); and another contributed Psychics to treat the illness when the Karaxes Virus evolved into the Verakas Virus and inadvertently turned them into some of the first XIKs. “You are definitely not one of bad ones.”
“Time will tell, but thank you for the vote of confidence.” Mato had ruffled Xenith’s hair, who made a noise sounding like, ‘geroff me’. “But I could ask the same question of you, though I have several times I believe...” he said thoughtfully. “Do you feel lonely or special about being the only one here with your type of ability?”
Xenith had shaken his head instantly. “No, but... I’m not arrogant, right? Cuz, I kinda don’t want to hear everyone, you know...”
“Hm, I would think self-confident, which is a good thing,” Mato had said thoughtfully. “Though, if you were to get feelings of self-doubt—highly common for your species in adolescence and early adulthood—it would be a good thing to do an assessment of yourself, but not enough to hurt your esteem.”
“Uh, that sounds complicated.”
Mato had chuckled again. “Indeed, and can take people a lifetime to achieve, but it is still a goal worth pursuing.”
Now, as Xenith finished combing his short black hair absently in his room as he reminisced, he couldn’t help but think perhaps Mato had told him his earlier years for a very specific reason. While Xenith had not felt more special consciously, he might have felt it unconsciously. He had done well in his studies, but now when trying to seek a job, his purpose, it poked holes in his self-confidence.
He received less attention, and he liked it, yet he wondered if he somehow needed some approval. He had expected to be instantly good at everything, and now he stumbled over tasks. Rather humbling, but he panicked that he would be useless. People joked he would be a good Hsa-Bane, not because of his prowess with combat, but because he could interrogate and spy on people. People believed he would be a good caretaker since he could read people’s minds and know what they needed or what they wanted without having to say or project it. Even in engineering, when the job involved machinery, they had scouted him out for his ability to listen to faraway senior engineers and coordinate with teammates. Everything boiled down to his innate ability rather than anything else he could offer, and now that he really thought about it, the realization hit him: perhaps, as the only near omniscient telepath, he was rather lonely.
Thirteen
For the first few days on Tezěkír, Celes soaked up everything she could about Raxdrýn. Ayzize went to meetings frequently—he never said about what despite her pestering—so she often had free rein of the complex, except for R&D. While other buildings had turrets and a guard or two, all R&D entrances had multiple turrets, snipers, bots and guards. As badly as Celes wanted to know why the building had so much defense, she didn’t have a death wish.
When not in Ayzize’s room, she prowled the grounds, watching different personnel with interest. While a few humans roamed around—mainly wearing business or security attire—the other species outnumbered them. She found several kids on the grounds too, reminding her uneasily about her teammates that she would meet any day now.
Three days after her arrival, Ayzize took her to the security building to get her additional clearances, announcing her team had been chosen. Gulping, she followed him back onto the grounds towards housing.
Housing was a simple building made of stone and steel and held the recruits and sometimes traveling Varôk. The scientists and security personnel had their own housing in their own buildings, so her past hope of cornering and interrogating the scientists had been thrown out.
The first floor opened up into a lobby that looked like a giant entertainment center; multiple AR and holo game centers sat squashed in the corners, a giant holo screen the size of the back wall lighting up, and many couches and chairs arranged in the middle. Ayzize had to unhook her from the AR consoles the previous day when a ‘concerned’ recruit had spotted her playing it for twelve hours straight.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned while she glanced longingly at the consoles.
“I’m not,” she lied as she followed him to the lifts, quelling her nervousness. “We already going back to the room?” she asked as the
lift opened smoothly for them.
He motioned for her to go in first, saying, “To your room with your teammates, yes.”
Celes blanched as she gaped at him. She would room with them? “I didn’t know I would share a room with them,” she said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt. “I just thought we would train together. What if they don’t like me?”
Ayzize shrugged. “Well, then you’d have to get used to it. One of my teammates hated my guts when we were together.”
“Was it the Chairman?” she asked, not at all thrilled that one—if not both—of her teammates might actually hate her. Ayzize didn’t seem really sympathetic, either.
He smirked. “No, but it would seem like it.”
The lift stopped on the fifth floor, the doors opening to three children zooming down the hall, shrieking like banshees. Celes threw herself back against the lift wall, assaulted by both the audible and mental noise, though Ayzize peeked out into the hallway before motioning for her to follow him.
Most of the doors were open, with lots of kids running up and down the hallway. Others hung out in their rooms, playing games or beating each other up. Ayzize had to pick several kids off each other along the way, but he didn’t look disturbed or upset. If anything, he looked bored. Several human kids raced around, but most were aliens, and she saw almost every species except for the Krshk and the Omni. She resisted going up to a Chilao kid and asking to touch the Chilao’s iridescent skin, or reaching for the budding flowers of a Lyre Selyn who had run past her and Ayzize.
Towards the end of the hall, Ayzize stopped at one of the few closed doors and gestured for her to open it.
“You can’t open it?” Celes called over the noise, putting her palm on the metal door, a light scanning her hand.
>>I can, but only for emergencies,<< Ayzize opted for mental projection instead, his eyes gazing down the hall as kids shouted and raced down the hallway. >>Even though you guys are kids, you get to have some measure of privacy.<<
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