“No, it wasn’t.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she fell silent.
“I was a child when I first met a Ven.” He paused for a moment, not sure if he wanted to continue. “Computer end recording in this room. Interrogation part one complete.” The computer chimed a confirmation, and he turned back to Kala, “As a child, it was not clearly evident I had psionic abilities. It’s not common for most to even come into their abilities until just prior to puberty.
“When I was about eleven years old, my parents took me on a civilian transport to a new colony. We were to be among the newest colonists to settle the planet. The ship didn’t make it there in one piece, not entirely. The escort, and the civilian transport were attacked. The other children and I were sequestered into the center of the ship, while our parents and most of the other adults were defending us.”
Dak closed his eyes, reliving those moments long ago, “I took the lead, as one of the oldest there, and kept the others busy with activities.” He opened his eyes, and looked at Kala, “I knew when the Ven boarded our ship, not because I heard their relocators, but because I could feel their psionic signatures. The ship fell very quiet after I felt their first arrivals, and then a couple of women opened the door to the room we were in. They were both Ven and both deceptively sweet.
“We were told that the transport and its escort came under fire from a cybernetic buzz fleet. I am not empathic, and at the time, I wasn’t telepathic, so naturally, I believed them. They told us that without their help, it’s likely we wouldn’t have survived. They proceeded to escort the children from the secured room to our own quarters, and told us they would make sure we made it to our new home.
“All of the adults were killed except a few. My mother was included among the adult survivors. I’m still unsure why, but she never told us anything beyond what the Ven women explained to us. By the time we arrived at the colony, even the children’s numbers dwindled, and my mother had become deathly ill. She died not long after the Ven ship left orbit.”
Kala watched her teacher, clearly sensing his discomfort with the topic. “If you’re so uncomfortable with this, why are you sharing it?”
Lieutenant Palrion looked at her, “Because, if I don’t she will.”
Kala took a seat in the chair next to Dak, “I’m listening.”
Dak leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “That trip was the longest, saddest trip of my life. I watched as my mother and two other Xenonian woman took on the man’s role for more than twenty children. They tended to domestic needs as well as secular and ship related duties.
“As children, we were grateful for any help and kindness the Ven escort offered us and our mothers. None were more grateful for help than I was when the Ven placed a girl in my and mom’s quarters. The illness was setting in with mom and she was no longer able to help with the other children and I began to take care of her. Things were …” he paused looking for the word, “overwhelming.
“I think that might even be an understatement. I tried to help her and the younger kids who lost their moms, and … “ the lieutenant trailed off for a brief moment, regaining his composure, “The Ven girl was of comparable age and she was very attentive, both to mom and me. I was at the right age for … those things.”
He ran his hands through his hair and sat back again, “I had no idea, at the time that she was already a soldier. I still hadn’t studied my war history in depth… and they helped us. I… things happened. Things that shouldn’t have happened. At the same time, Mom spiraled downhill.”
He closed his eyes again, fighting back the painful realization once again. “Mom had made a recording which she encrypted with DNA. In that recording, she explained to me and to the senate that we were all part of a Ven social experiment. They, the Ven, were studying our reaction to trauma. I don’t know how mom kept her recording secret nor how she encrypted it while she was sick. I don’t even know how she figured out what was going on.
“What I do know, the Ven were responsible for my mother’s illness, the death of my father, and creating orphans for no reason beyond a science experiment of lesser beings.” Kala remained silent as he spoke and watched as he had to regain composure again before he continued, “No matter how comforting they were, or how pleasant they were on the ship and dropping us off at our colony, they orchestrated all of it, and only in hindsight was I able to fully grasp what happened to us all.”
Feeling all of the emotions her trainer was enduring, Kala gently and calmly put a reassuring hand on his, but she was at a loss for words.
Lieutenant Palrion stared at her hand, and the slightest hint of a smile almost graced his lips. Abruptly, he stood up, and locked eyes with her, “Cadet, keep that in mind while you deal with her. Ven are deceptive and she may be here of her own design.”
Kala tilted her head slightly and looked at him, “When I deal with her Lieutenant?”
“Yes Cadet. Consider this your first assignment. I’ll be assisting you in the process. You’ll not be left to deal with the woman alone.”
Kala stood again, “Aye sir.”
The lieutenant then walked her out of the brig and back to Blackout Corners explaining basic interrogation techniques that she could begin with. As Kala walked back to her quarters, exhausted from the day, she found herself concerned about how the day’s activities would impact her position and duty assignment. Realizing how early in the morning it was, she finally slipped into bed without changing from her uniform. She hoped to get a few hours sleep in before she had to get up for more weapons practice and standardized training.
~*~
Being in orbit of a planet again invited a much needed shore leave. The primary trading city on a planet always brought the attention of adventure seekers from all species. Lieutenant Commander Jae was no exception.
When Yatrell arrived on the surface, he walked from the relocation center to the tall pillars holding the transit hub’s directions panels. The squared screens displayed the city and everything associated with it. Using them, he found the trading district. After getting his bearings, he stepped out of the glass doors of the transit hub, and started to walk the beaten down roads of the war ravaged city. As he moved along, he noticed the taller buildings were worn and crumbling both from age and various attacks. The smaller structures appeared to be far better kept, particularly the ones closer to the center of the city. Priorities were obvious.
It was no surprise to Yatrell that the dwindling population avoided and neglected this area. They didn’t require the same level of housing as they did during their peak, and this was more apparent the further from the city’s center he walked. Instead of crumbling parts, he noticed gaping holes and decayed abandoned buildings.
As he moved between the hub and the trading district, the area was darkened by shadows. The only light came from the moon and stars above. This continued for quite a distance longer than he anticipated looking at the maps. When he started to notice the occasional cart or small group of armed individuals, he knew he was crossing into the trade district. He found himself stepping over building parts, and around crumbling walkways and roadways punctuating the damage done to this city over years of war. With the kind of multi-species and general riff raff forms of traffic expected here, it was no surprise to the Lieutenant Commander that the Dentonian colony hadn’t made it a priority for repair.
When he could look around and find only an oasis of function among the crumbling buildings, he knew he was deep in the trading district. Yatrell stood still and relaxed his focus, allowing the minds close enough to flow through him. After paying attention to the flood of voices in his head, he was able to determine which direction to turn. Yatrell followed an intriguing conversation several patrons were having, and he made his way to a very well lit area and into a nicer establishment.
A bodyguard stopped him in the doorway, and told that all of his weapons would have to be checked at the door. He complied with every weapon that was easily seen and at least one
that wasn’t. The bodyguard at the front permitted him access , and he walked directly to the bar.
Yatrell ordered a drink before he turned toward the open bar and listened, telepathically, to the crowd in the establishment.
A few minutes later, the waitress brought him his drink. “So, soldier, what brings you to Max Prime?”
“Assignment.” He lifted his drink skyward and she smiled at him. He returned the gesture and looked out among the crowd. “So, what is there to do around here for fun?”
She leaned toward him as she spoke, letting her shirt pull tighter across her chest. “Well, there’s a few games of strategy available toward the back of the restaurant. We’ve got some games of chance there as well.”
Her thoughts were clearly heard along with her words as he sipped his drink. He picked up on one area. “What card games are there around here?”
The waitress shifted in place, and shrugged, “There aren’t many that are of any note. A couple of games with chance involved in the Red Room and a few slightly better games down the street at the Turner Den. If you want cards, I’d go there.” She wiped the counter, “Enjoy your drink,” she walked away.
The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. He snuck a glance at the back of the building. He finished his drink, and made his way to the far end of the establishment. He passed several tables with numerous games of strategy, skill and knowledge. The closer to the far wall he got, the more the games became rooted in chance.
Once he was outside the door marked Red Room, he took a moment to listen to the minds inside. Yatrell knocked on the door, and was surprised when he was greeted by a rather large Xentue male. Yatrell looked up at the towering lizard, and identified his poison sacks then coolly spoke to him, “I’m here for the game.”
The Xentue shifted his tail from one side to the other, and folded his large green arms, “Code for entry.”
Yatrell listened to the minds inside for a moment longer before he responded confidently, “Arc One.”
The Xentue male moved from his path, and allowed him to enter. The man closed the door behind him, and pointed him in the direction to pick up his cards, and leave his money. Yatrell noticed that every decoration in the room was made of a plush red fabric. The tables were covered with this material. There were rich red drapes that hung on the wall, each one with a unique design and coloring sewn into them. Even the cushion carpet was the same rich deep red color. The tables were spread out with just enough space for each player to sit, and the room was near capacity. Nearly every species he knew of was represented in the room, with at least two he didn’t know.
When the men were standing at the counter with a Xentue female behind it gathering chips and making the log entry, the Xentue man spoke to him again, “Rules are what you’d expect in the game. Your cards are your cards. Don’t complain. No fighting in this establishment, or me and my sister here will deal with it. House takes ten percent of your ante when you cash out. Other than that, there’s a free spot at table three.”
Yatrell bought into the game with Tenalium instead of credits. This clearly surprised the Xentue, “You don’t see much Tenalium?”
The taller Xentue male chuckled, “Not from a Dentonian, we don’t.”
Yatrell grinned, “Sometimes the spoils of war pay off.”
The Xentue nodded, and stared at Yatrell, “Just make sure you keep the war at the door.”
“Of course.”
He took his cards and chips, and walked to the third table in the room. He sat down at the free chair. While he handed his cards to the dealer and prepared for the next hand, by taking note of the other players. Three were Dentonian, one attractive Xenonian woman, and one was a Ven male. He greeted each one in kind, and waited for the next round to begin.
The bare head of the Ven man made Yatrell more comfortable. Very few Ven were natural telepaths, or psionics. He’d learned through te last major battle, that the bands helped the non-psionics cross that barrier. Even with this in mind, he made a mental note to keep an eye on the man, just in case. Not wanting to allow his own abilities to interfere with the game, he opened his mind further to keep it far too busy to hear the minds closest to him.
The game began without incident. It seemed as though he would have fair competition from the Xenonian Captain. It didn’t help that her shoulder length black hair and soft blue eyes were mildly distracting. Initially, it seemed as if the Xenonian woman would take all of the winnings. Her competitive spirit and knowledge of the game was obvious as Yatrell and the other two Dentonian men found they were handing ante and bet over to her, one hand after another.
As his chip stack approached half, Yatrell placed his ante on the table and experienced a familiar telepathic exchange. Knowing it was intended to be a passive read of his mind, he said nothing, but watched the other players more closely. His attention was drawn back to the Ven on occasion. When each player would place their money on the table, he would experience similar passive telepathic scans. This continued through three or four more turns before the Ven selected not to compete in one hand. That cash went to the Xenonian woman. The hand that followed started to turn the tide to the Ven’s favor. Soon thereafter, the Ven male had a chip stack nearly double that of the Xenonian woman, and at least one of the Dentonian men were sent back to the counter to buy in again.
At this point, Yatrell made a mental note of the remaining chips on the table. He frowned when he realized the Ven was taking in the money faster than the ante seemed to allow. Calmly and guarded, he stepped out of the game before his chips entirely disappeared. He walked back to the counter, and exchanged his chips for ten percent less than he had. He quicly left the red room, collected his weapons from the entrance, and walked out of the bar.
When he crossed into the night sky, he looked up at the stars and welcomed the quieter environment.
With no obvious direction in mind, he walked along trying to calm himself. His mind dwelled on the activities of that game. Being a telepath gave him advantages, but he wouldn’t use them to cheat, especially with a simple game in which skill and cunning would have been enough. In his mind, there were few reasons, outside of battle, that justified using his advantages.
Then again, in his case, he couldn’t entirely shut it out. There was always too much information flowing through his mind at any given moment. He struggled to keep the background noise to a dull roar most of the time. Even reviewing his actions during the game, he knew regardless of what he heard, it wasn’t definable in the moment. Any deviation from that created an unfair, unjustified advantage.
His mind wandered back to the beautiful Xenonian captain at the table and he allowed himself to entertain other ideas briefly. When a smile crept from the corners of his mouth he found he was searching out the Xenonian woman he knew far better. When he established a link with her, he found Kala fast asleep in her bed on the training vessel.
~Sleep well and wake more refreshed than you have been. I hope we talk again soon,~ he gently projected to her.
To his pleasant surprise, he found himself smiling much wider after that projection.
Yatrell turned around, and went back toward the bar and toward the city’s center. As he stepped over crumbled roadway and walked past broken street lights, his mind wandered through the conversations he’s had with the Xenonian girl. He began to realize how far she had come in the year or more they had been talking. Distracted, he stumbled over a man walking toward him. He stopped to see if any damage had been done, and he realized with whom he’d run into. Struggling not to give into his impulse to impale the Ven he’d met at the card game, he turned, and walked on.
“What, Yatrell? You can’t stand a little competition?” The smug Ven man looked up at the towering Dentonian with a clear attitude of superiority.
Briefly and angrily, Yatrell entered his mind, ~It’s not competition when you use your telepathy, Gardesh.~
~One must use the advantages at their disposal. Just because your puny species
isn’t comfortable with psionic abilities doesn’t mean I have to live with it,~ he arrogantly responded, shaking his money purse. He tucked the purse back into his pocket. “Ah, and now the Dentonian churl is angry, and wanting his money back.” Gardesh laughed.
Furiously, Yatrell spun around on his heel, and snatched the Ven by the collar of his shirt. He threw him against an alley wall. He pushed his face into that of his adversary, and growled, “I had no intention of saying or doing anything about this blatant disregard. The local authorities are not my favorite people, but neither are the Ven. Watch your step Gardesh.”
Yatrell turned to walk out of the alley. A piercing pain shot through his body seconds before he looked down to see the glint of a dagger’s tip piercing his abdomen from behind. Enraged, he turned, and faced Gardesh. Aggressively, Yatrell invaded Gardesh’s mind. He focused on causing pain in the Ven’s body that rippled from his head outward. He pressed through his own physical pain, and he continued to attack Gardesh until he droped to his knees.
When Yatrell was no longer able to see clearly, he fell to his knees using his hands to brace himself. He continued the telepathic attack until he knew the overwhelming pain in Gardesh’s eyes before he collapsed. With the dagger still embedded in his back, blood seeped from his wound, and darkness finally took over. Both Dentonian and Ven lay on the street, unconscious.
Chapter 4
Light years away, she bolted up in her bed screaming. Her hands clutched her stomach and she trembled with fear. Kala opened her eyes, and stared at her hands, unsure what she’d find when she removed them. Henessa was at her side before the scream dissipated.
With a worried frown, Henessa placed her hands on Kala’s, and the two of them pushed her hands aside.
Kala stared at the spot where, in her mind, she knew there should have been a wound. Her clothing was intact. She lifted her shirt, tracing the place she knew the dagger sliced through, but there was nothing. Confused and still shaken, she looked to her friend.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 113