by Renard, Loki
The grand doors slid open, revealing a chamber of light. Faith felt something running through her body, a sensation like… awe, perhaps, but greater as Serkan drew her into the chamber and toward its sole occupant, a tall woman sitting in a grand chair in the very center of the room. There were little silvery tendrils leading from her head to the outer limits of the space, and a concentric grid upon the floor was marked with details grand and small. It looked almost like a map, but it was moving. Little lights and lines were sliding this way and that.
It was a space that seemed to be indoors and yet not indoors. She could no longer detect where the walls or the ceiling were. It was all one grand contained eternity, and she was standing upon it. The awe in her heart grew larger as the woman stood and began to walk toward them.
“Where’s the rest of it? The council?” Faith found herself whispering to Serkan.
“This is Ephemera. She is the council. She holds the consciousness and combined wisdom of twelve councilors from across generations.”
The closer Ephemera got, the harder she was to look at. She was alive with light, and though Faith had the sense that she was in the presence of great beauty and kindness, she could not have physically described any of it. On Earth, Faith had never believed in anything religious. It had all been a little too base, a little too cruel. But here, in the presence of this transcendent creature, she finally understood what it was to be in the presence of something so great that she felt humble to her core.
“Whoa,” she said, her mouth moving independently of her mind. “Is this why… is this how we got the thing about the angels? Was it you people all along?”
“Be silent, please,” Ephemera intoned, her face obscured somehow from Faith’s eyes. It was as if when she looked at Ephemera, she could not see. Her vision became blurry, her mind overloaded. It was painful to look at her, and the pain did not recede until she averted her gaze.
She could feel Ephemera moving around her. The woman’s hands descended to lie lightly upon her head. For a moment, Faith was filled with light and warmth and a love that felt so complete, a tear traced down her cheek. Not of sadness or pain, but of joy.
There was a gasp from Ephemera, and then the hands retreated, and with them the sense of goodness and love. The angel—for that must surely be what she was—retreated to what was apparently a safe distance, at least seven feet away from Faith.
“You have done well, Serkan,” she intoned, her voice melodious but solemn. “Your orders were clear, but your actions were correct in spite of being contrary to those rules.”
“I told him that,” Faith muttered to herself.
“Be quiet, human,” Ephemera said. “Your speech is dangerous.”
“My speech is… mmpff !”
Serkan’s hand snaked around to cover her mouth.
Faith gave him a cutting look as best she could, given he was behind and above her.
“Lmpfh m g!”
Perhaps it was anger from being physically restrained, or maybe it was grief at being separated from a source of pure compassion and love. Whatever it was, Faith’s most basic and chaotic human instincts rose in her like a tidal wave. She squirmed furiously in Serkan’s arms, unhappy at being held like a writhing wild animal. All she had done was speak, and not even rudely. What would happen to this alien super being if she were to swear? Faith really wanted to find out.
“She is almost certainly a disruptive influence,” Ephemera intoned. “But that does not mean she cannot be rehabilitated. Take her to analysis and see what they make of her.”
“Thank you, Ephemera,” Serkan said, a little too genuinely for Faith’s liking.
Faith scowled at the lovely angelic woman. She was being rejected, and she did not like it one little bit. The brief moment of grace had served only to reiterate how flawed and sinful she was. Too dirty, too dangerous for the glowing, godlike creature to be near.
Serkan hauled her from the chamber, tears she could not control running down her face. She was so angry, so lost, so very confused. All she had for comfort was the large alien man who could hold her as if she weighed nothing—and did so until they were well clear of Ephemera’s chamber.
“What the hell?” Faith scowled when he finally pulled his hand away and allowed her to speak. “What’s wrong with you people? She acted like I was toxic waste.”
“Ephemera has many powers,” Serkan said. “But maintaining purity is essential. If she is disrupted, the council may be unable to make their judgments with clarity. It is rare that anyone has an audience with her for that reason.”
“So your society is governed by a glowing lady in a box,” Faith said scornfully.
“That is a gross oversimplification of a complex system you do not understand.”
“Most things I say are,” Faith shot back. “What’s the alternative? Understand everything ? I’d never say anything ever again.”
“I am going to gag you soon,” Serkan threatened. “You do not understand the opportunity that you are being given. Stop speaking and start listening and you might learn something. Your rages and tantrums will get you nowhere.”
These aliens had it in for her simply because she was what she was. Faith was starting to feel as if she was on familiar ground now, being misunderstood and punished for it. She fell into a sullen silence as she was conducted through the alien maze and into another chamber that did not contain any ladies, glowing or otherwise. Instead there were several medical-looking machines, sleek and white and marked with gentle glowing lights that blipped occasionally.
“Commander Serkan!” A tall alien man appeared after a moment. “You have returned!”
“Hello, Hyktor,” Serkan said. “I have. And I have someone with me. This is Faith. She is a human.”
“Hello, Faith,” the alien man said. He used the same tone she’d used back on Earth for saying hello to the dogs of acquaintances.
“Hi,” she muttered sullenly. At least this one wasn’t keeping his distance. He wasn’t as handsome as Serkan, nor was he quite as tall, but he still could have passed for a runway model back on Earth. These creatures were all so beautiful. She must seem so pink and fleshy and base to them.
“Ephemera has requested that we test her and formulate a course of treatment,” Serkan said.
“Ah, so you are a little disruptor,” Hyktor smiled at her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Faith scowled.
“I am sure you don’t,” he said. “It’s probably very confusing for you, to be so far away with such strange people.”
“Yes,” Faith agreed with a little sniff. “It is. And he’s been yelling at me all day.”
“I have not so much as raised my voice at you,” Serkan replied.
“You don’t have to yell to yell,” Faith argued.
“I’m not sure a scan is really necessary for this one,” Hyktor said. “I think it’s quite obvious what she needs.”
“Agreed,” Serkan nodded, his cheek dimpling with something like amusement. “But best to follow protocol.”
“Yes, best to find a rule and follow it,” Faith said snarkily. She was tired, irritated, and scared, and nothing that had happened so far had been of much reassurance to her. “Don’t think for yourselves. Something interesting might happen.”
Serkan’s palm met her bottom in a light swat that didn’t hurt anything but her pride. “Settle down,” he commanded. “You are only making this more difficult for yourself.”
“Besides,” Hyktor said. “This will be interesting for you too.” He put his hand on a large chamber-like machine. “This scanner will read your brainwaves and import them into the ongoing sentience simulation. From there, we will be able to pick you out of the background intelligence, and see precisely what effects your presence has.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Life on developing planets follows rules. Since humans emerged, we have been mapping their activities. Life seems random while it is being lived, but
it is, in fact, anything but random. Rules make predictions possible, especially when additional data is provided. Ephemera wants to take a few readings from you in order to gauge the impact of your leaving Earth.”
Faith narrowed her eyes at him. “So you people can see the future? And you can see what happens when you make changes to the present?”
“Time is more like a loaf of sliced bread than a moving target.”
“I have no idea what that is even supposed to mean,” Faith said.
“It is complex, especially for a tired mind freshly off a long flight,” Hyktor said sympathetically. “There will be time for discussions of a quantum nature later. For the moment, if you’d step inside…” He pushed a button and the door of the chamber swung open to reveal a small, cozy padded interior.
“Not like I have any choice, is it?”
Faith stepped inside the small pod. She felt very claustrophobic in there. Before they closed the door on her, she stuck her hand out and looked at Serkan. “You’ll let me out of this, right?”
“It will only be for a moment. I promise,” he agreed.
She nodded. “Okay. I’m trusting you.”
The door closed and for a heart-pounding moment, she was left in the dark. It only took a matter of microseconds for her to begin to panic, but thankfully the door opened almost immediately, just as Serkan had promised.
He reached for her and drew her into his arms. “That was good,” he murmured rare praise. “Very good.”
“I stood in a box for a second,” she said, even as she sank into the comfort of his arms. “What’s so good about that?”
“You did as you were asked to do for once, and you did it without a fight.”
“I’m tired,” she admitted. “I would have been much more difficult about it if I had slept well. I would have clawed at the sides of the chamber and screamed and everything. I will next time, if you like.”
She was being silly, her words a facade with which she hoped to maintain some appearance of strength. The truth was, this new world frightened her. Serkan alone was intimidating. This was a world of people just like him, a world of technology she did not understand. She felt very alone, and now that she was pressed close to his strong body, she felt a deep sense of relief. He had become a little island of safety. She wished she could stay in his arms. He seemed to understand that, and did not let her go. He reached down, slid his arm underneath her knees and held her against his chest. He probably didn’t know that was how husbands carried wives over thresholds, but it still made Faith feel protected and a little more cared for.
“I’ll take you back to the ship,” Serkan said. “You can get some rest. I will speak with Ephemera soon.”
“See if she deigns to let me live?”
“Your life is in no danger.”
She looked into his eyes and felt an overwhelming doubt. He was one man against a super-consciousness and there was little he could do if the will of the angels was turned against her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me what I want to hear. You’ve done a lot for me. If they decide to off me…” She shrugged. “You did your best.”
“Listen to me, Faith,” he said, his brows furrowing a touch as his silver eyes locked with hers. His voice dropped a note, becoming serious and stern. “Listen to me well. Your life is in no danger whatsoever. No matter what. I will die myself before I let death come to you.”
He spoke with such passion that she had no choice but to believe him. Serkan was not a man to make promises lightly, she already knew that. If he was promising her that she would not be harmed, then she would just have to believe him.
Chapter Six
Having safely stowed Faith back in his ship, Serkan returned to the council chambers. He had meant every word of his promise to Faith, but nevertheless, he did not recall a time when he had been more nervous. Not when he first became a cadet. Not when he was granted his first commission. Not even when he first set foot on an alien planet. Waiting for Ephemera to pass judgment left him pacing up and down the halls in his stiff uniform, worried about Faith’s fate. The council would not make a decision based on his attachment to the human woman. They would decide based on a multitude of considerations, many beyond his own ability to comprehend.
He had come to trust the council without question, but he knew that trust would be shattered the instant Ephemera ruled against Faith—if she did. There was a reason why Faith was on his ship. And there was a reason why it was fueled and ready to leave. There was also a reason why he was trying his best not to think about his plan. Ephemera did not have supernatural powers, but her vast knowledge was so great she could effectively predict the future. Odds were she already knew what his plan was and was taking it into account.
Just as the hour of judgment came to be, an officer emerged from Ephemera’s chambers. He wore the long silver-hued robes of high office, and carried himself with the grace and dignity with which one might expect from such a highly regarded man.
“Is the council ready for me?”
“Ephemera is weary,” the officer said. “She has retired for the day, but she has asked me to pass her messages to you.”
This was not good news. Ephemera’s absence was a concern. Serkan had the honor of meeting the council only a few times, but each and every time they had appeared to be beyond such things as fatigue. Faith’s presence must have been disrupting in the extreme. Hyktor had not been enthusiastic about her results either. Serkan had tried to see them before he met with Ephemera, but Hyktor had kept them private, saying they were for Ephemera’s eyes only. He had refused further discussion, which was a grand irritation for Serkan. He outranked Hyktor by several ranks, but Ephemera outranked them all and once he had invoked her name the matter was closed.
“Has she made her decision?” Serkan tried to keep the tension from his voice. It was imperative that he remain calm, no matter what.
The officer drew up a shining transcript upon which Ephemera’s judgment had been written. He took a deep breath before imparting the wisdom therein, taking a few extra seconds during which Serkan could happily have throttled him. He calmed himself, knowing that impatience would only cause more trouble.
“You have taken a human from her planet of origin,” the man intoned, telling Serkan what he already knew. “This is a trespass against Ephemera’s law. As a result, you are hereby stripped of your interstellar commission. Your ship will be confiscated for an indeterminate period. You will undertake no further surveillance missions. Instead you will…” the officer lifted his eyes from Ephemera’s ruling to look at Serkan, “clean up your mess. Those are my words. Not hers.”
A muscle twitched in Serkan’s jaw. It was not often that he had an impulse to violence, but this smug officer who had never been off-planet in his life was bringing it out of him. He was much larger than the officer, much more physically powerful. It would be a simple matter to… Serkan caught his train of thought, surprised at how far it had gone. Was this Faith’s influence?
“As for the human herself,” the officer continued, blithely unaware of Serkan’s aggressive desire. “The council have run several simulations with the data provided and determined that though she is quite chaotic, she is not a danger on this planet. Certainly not nearly as dangerous as she was on hers. So, though we do not encourage interference in the natural order, on this particular occasion, there is no doubt that it was in the best interests of planetary progression.”
“She was destined to be that much trouble?”
The officer nodded and unrolled the scroll of knowledge a little further, the characters glowing brightly. “This would have been her first significant transgression. If she had survived the resulting pursuit—our simulations imply that she would have done, albeit after significant trauma—that experience would have shattered what little sense of morality she currently possesses. She would have graduated to espionage, high-level acts of sabotage and the culmination would have been an assassin
ation.”
“The calculations must be inaccurate.” Serkan’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head. “She is a thief, but I do not believe that she would ever kill anybody.”
“She would have been the target. It would have been… unpleasant. There would have been collateral damage, and severe negative effects on several other key human players who have some hope of elevating the species over the next fifty years.”
“Oh,” Serkan shrugged. That made more sense. People had been trying to kill Faith when he met her. He had no doubt that she would managed to take her ability to be a lawless pain in the ass far enough to warrant an assassination attempt.
“Though she is not dangerous, she will need significant rehabilitation if she is not to disrupt our timeline,” the officer continued. “If her impact is to be minimized, she will have to be made obedient. It is unlikely you will ever be able to change her essential nature, but you may be able to modify her behavior with a course of appropriate treatment. Ephemera’s primary order is that this human must never be out of your possession. If she is to be in contact with the public at any time, she must be restrained, both from disruptive movement and speech.”
“You want her to be muzzled, and perhaps leashed.”
“The method is your choice,” the officer replied. “Ephemera believes that you will follow her law to the letter.” He lowered the scroll again and spoke of his own accord. “This is your second chance, Serkan. Many do not receive a second chance. Your exemplary record is the reason the council have chosen to give you this opportunity.”
“I understand.”
“Do you accept these terms, Serkan?”
“I do,” he answered without hesitation. Of course he accepted the terms. There was no choice but to accept them. The alternative was to turn and flee his planet with Faith, attempt to carve out some kind of fugitive lifestyle, but that would make him no better than her. Serkan had not risen to rank of commander by taking the easy way out, or abandoning his principles. Now he had lost that rank, but he was certain that he could regain it. Just as certain as he was that Faith could be rehabilitated. Ephemera must believe it, and he was sure of it too.