by L. S. Gibson
It was agreed the landing party would be in touch again after Vrai and the others returned, at which time Triena would put forward her idea.
A few hours later Cosna arrived back with both Vrai and Irida. Vrai proved to be a stately old lady with an air of quiet grace which drew one like a magnet. It was clear she was a great favorite with her own people. There was also a family resemblance to Triena. After she’d thanked everyone for their kind thoughts and wishes, she slipped away with Triena, and the two of them entered one of the small huts, where they stayed sequestered for some time.
When at last they emerged, Triena called Jon over to meet in private with her aunt. Vrai regarded him searchingly for a long few seconds, before holding out her hand. Jon took it between his two hands, and she placed her other hand over his. He didn’t realize until later she greeted him in the way of his people, not her own.
“We owe you much, Jon Hardesty. Triena has told me of your journey and its result. We can never repay you except with our gratitude and our love.” She glanced between Jon and Triena. “I think you know you already have that.” All of a sudden Vrai reached out and gave a light touch to his temple. “Ah,” she said a couple of seconds later. “Yes, you have a strong contact, most strong.”
Triena glanced at Vrai, baffled. “How can that be? He’s not Rhiava.”
“Does it matter, if the contact is real?” Vrai asked with a slight smile.
“What are you talking about?” Jon asked looking from one to the other in confusion.
“You must feel it,” Vrai said. “The contact.”
“Feel it?” he asked, still confused. Then like a light switching on he understood. “Is that why?” he asked with a mixture of consternation and excitement.
“What?” It was Triena’s turn to look confused.
“For the last couple of days I’ve had the oddest sensation I knew what you’re feeling, when you were upset, when you were worried.” He gave her a sheepish glance. “When you were angry with me. When there was something you weren’t telling me,” he added. He paced back and forth in front of them. “But how could that be? As Triena said, I am not Rhiava. I don’t have your...skills.”
“Well, it seems certain you’re developing one of them. The how, why, is somewhat irrelevant. The fact it exists should be enough. But if you want explanations, all I can say is your contact with Triena must have initiated it; maybe it’s a latent talent in your people, maybe it’s just you.” Vrai tipped her head to one side and just stared at him for a second longer, before shrugging. She then approached Triena. “On the other subject, Triena, before we do anything else, let me go and inspect the archives. Without Mychlo I need to double-check my memory. I’ll take Cosna with me. We shouldn’t be more than say, oh, three hours. I think the time has come to explain what you can to the others. We don’t have any more time to waste.” With that, she tapped Triena on the arm and hurried away in search of Cosna.
“What was that all about?” Jon asked, intrigued despite himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, ignoring his question.
Jon knew all too well what she meant. “Because I didn’t know, wasn't sure. I’d been feeling—sensing—things for some little time, but I wasn’t sure it was anything more than my own interpretation of how I thought you felt. It’s been increasing though, and just a couple of hours ago I decided to talk to you about it, when we had a little time on our own.” He gave her an odd smile. “Besides, you’ve been a little distant recently, you know.”
“I’ve been worried. I didn’t like...” She stopped then, bringing her eyes back from the communal table where she had let them stray. She glanced up at him.
“You didn’t like the way I was feeling, thinking, did you? I thought not. But I can’t help the way I feel. And I can’t find it in myself to be sorry for it either,” he said, a little defensive.
“I know. I think I understand, but it’s so...alien to me. I’m sorry, Jon, I don’t mean... What I’m trying to say is that until the Mideans invaded I had no experience of such extreme negative emotions. While logically I understand how, why you’re reacting as you are to what they did to you, I find it difficult to accept such a violent concept as revenge.”
He stared at her, had things between them changed? What was it he’d told himself just a short while ago—if she cares for me, it would have to be as I am, now—what if she wasn’t prepared to do that? What then? “I am who I am; the results of my experiences. Have...” He stopped, not knowing what to do. What could he say? He had to know. This was one thing his newfound senses didn’t tell him. “Does this alter things between us?” he asked, unable to hide his nervousness.
“No,” she replied, lifting a hand to place it on his heart, just the way she had when she sought to comfort him after his rescue. “I may find it difficult, but I do know why you feel as you do. And, perhaps—if I admit it to myself—I felt something of such emotions when you were...when I sensed what you were going through.”
He reached out and caressed her cheek, the first time he’d touched her in an intimate way since his rescue. “I’m sorry. I’ve not done you any favors by coming here, have I? All I want is to make you happy, but it’s not that simple, is it?”
“No,” she replied with a wan smile. “But anything worthwhile has a price, and I’m prepared to pay it.”
“Are you? Are you sure I’m worth it?” he asked tenderly, holding her face between his hands and staring into her eyes, searching.
“Oh yes.” She leaned in to kiss him. He’d forgotten how wonderful that was, but his memory couldn’t compare to the real thing. Blood pounded through his veins, and he felt dizzy for a moment. Then Triena let him experience her emotions, and he understood how much he meant to her. For the first time in days he felt good.
THIRTEEN
Q uestioning Medved proved to be quite interesting. As expected, he had no defense against the Rhiava who were determined to learn the truth. One of the Elders, Timov, used his telepathic powers to extract information direct from the Midean’s mind. It wasn’t a skill Timov used often, and just at the specific request of the Elder Council, but this was one occasion he had to act without the consent of the full Council. He spent a short time with Medved and no matter how much the Midean struggled and fought, there was nothing he could do to stop Timov learning everything.
Triena called everyone together; her own people and the guests from Questor. Timov explained what he’d discovered as succinctly as he could.
“It's apparent that the Mideans were caught by their own petard. The shield is perfect; it keeps us controlled, as do the troops stationed on the surface. Our rather small population isn’t seen as a problem, though they intended to bring in more soldiers on the next troopship. However, the individual power of the Rhiava wasn’t suspected at all, and the Mideans became trapped by their own technology. They can’t determine how their craft are kept from flying below the shield, or their ships from landing once they pass through. They lost two craft, and the troops they were carrying, before they stopped trying. The troopships returned home. They are forced to concentrate on another method of control: holding the Elders in Reliff and surrounding the other smaller cities with their available troops.
“Supervisor Charod directs the operation from his headquarters on Sierrie as he likes to be near the shield control mechanism. He’s been to Reliff on just two occasions following his original visit on his arrival. During the first visit he ordered the use of the ”room,” as Charod likes to call it; he feels the simple term disguises the danger within. He visited a second time, puzzled and enraged at the room’s failure, and ordered the threat to the children which brought the capitulation of the citizens. However, Charod is most frustrated to be unable to discover the secrets the Mideans are sure we are hiding from them. They found some evidence in the actual mountain they chose to site the mechanism, though they didn’t understand much of it.”
Timov paused while he took a drink, ignoring the mu
ttered conversations going on around him. Silence fell as he began again.
“Charod is determined to find Triena; he knows that whatever the Spirit is, she is vital to the Rhiava. Charod was convinced that the prisoner,” Timov glanced at Jon, “knew just what was going on, in particular since the one time he reacted was at the mention of her name. Charod was furious that Jon refused to answer his questions, even though he knew that meant his death. When another strange craft landed nearby, Charod was almost paranoid about a possible rescue, until he saw it as another opportunity. Medved was sent out to stop them and bring back another alien prisoner.”
Everyone seemed to have an opinion on what they’d heard, and Triena let them all have their say before she called for quiet. When she had everyone’s attention she announced it was time for their guests to know the truth. That brought a few raised eyebrows from the Questor crew, and a long look from Jon.
“You are sure?” Sernov queried with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes. Vrai and I had a long talk, and it transpires before Haven was overrun it had been decided there was no choice but to use the ancient technology. It was the confirmation we’ve been waiting for. When I told her how helpful our new friends have been, she said we must tell them, and to ask if they could help.” She glanced over at the group from Questor as she spoke. They were standing together, off to one side. “We’ve so few of our number free now; it might be hard to manage on our own. We need to free our people from Reliff, and we need to remove the shield.”
“Is that possible?” Manny asked, moving forward. “Even with the help of our weapons we’re outnumbered. I suppose we could send the shuttle back and bring down more help,” he added.
“Thank you for the kind thought, Manny, but it shouldn’t be necessary. There are things you don’t yet know about Rhiava. And your friends know even less than you do. I will explain our history a little more, while Vrai is checking the archives. You’ll understand then. This will be a little difficult. You see we’re not proud of some of our history. But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.”
She began, slow at first, a little hesitant, but as she progressed the story began to flow.
“The Mideans came because of the legends about the Rhiava, but they didn’t know the half of it. They were looking for spaceship technology, energy sources, weaponry, and anything to help them take what they wanted. However, the legend is one thing, the truth another.”
“Our story began a long, long time ago. We’d always been a proud race, proud of our world, our knowledge—too proud. When the time seemed right we left our home world in beautiful ships, travelled to nearby worlds, but found little of interest. The time came when we developed faster-than-light ships and went farther afield.” She sighed. “As our knowledge and ability increased so did our pride. We abandoned our philosophy of peace and justice and became predatory, taking what we wanted at will. We weren’t averse to using whatever means necessary, including violence, war, oppression. We advanced in leaps and bounds until no race could stand against our technology.”
Triena glanced around her audience, until at last her gaze came to rest on the group from Questor. “We became more like the Mideans than we care to admit. I’m ashamed to say it took a long time for our ancestors to understand just how wrong the path was they’d chosen.”
“And when they did?” Manny asked.
“The catalyst came when other races began to fight back, and our people experienced increasing losses. It started with just one person, one remarkable person, standing up and saying it was wrong. He was charismatic and it didn't take long before people began to listen, began to understand. It took some time, but the Rhiava backed off. They left each race to find their own future, let them follow their own path, in their own time. And we, too, followed our own path which led back to the beginning.
“We returned home, went inward. We no longer used starships or advanced scientific equipment. We stopped using our technology and instead, we concentrated on improving ourselves as a race. We wanted to expunge the memory of what we’d done, what we’d been. It was probable it happened at just the right time as our population had begun to fall drastically. It continued to fall for some time to come, until it settled at a much lower level than it had been before. We’ve never been sure what caused that.
“Over time we learned the secret of our home world and ourselves. We came to understand the Treasure and the Gifts. There had always been those with psychic abilities of one kind or another, but they’d always been seen as different, in some way abnormal. But now, we began to understand. As we learned the truth we changed. Now, generations later, even the idea that a race similar to what we’d been so long ago wants our technology is abhorrent to us. We’d never allow it. If we can’t free ourselves, we’ll destroy it all first—even if it means destroying ourselves too.”
During the entire time Triena spoke no one made a sound. The Rhiava were as spellbound as the group from Questor. On one occasion Jon glanced in Manny’s direction and recognized the same reaction as their gazes met. It was odd, but somehow comforting to know the Rhiava weren’t quite as magnificent as they seemed. They were shocked when Triena admitted to what lengths her ancestors went in pursuit of their goals millennia ago. Though not as shocked as when they heard her last statement.
“Destroy yourselves?” Peter Barlow voiced the general reaction.
Everyone seemed to speak at once, giving their opinions, voicing their awe at the story they’d just heard. Except Triena…and Jon.
During her long tale, Triena had avoided meeting Jon’s eyes, even when she swept her gaze over the Questor crew. Now, at last, she met his gaze.
She was concerned about everyone’s reaction, worried about how he would feel. He walked over and took her hand in his left, and with his right he tapped his temple. She gave a ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said gently.
Manny came over. “That was quite a story, but what I want to know is what you plan to do next. You wouldn’t have told us all that without some particular reason, right?”
She nodded. “One of our number, Mychlo, who is a prisoner in Reliff, has carried on the long tradition of maintaining all the old secrets of our ancestors. It began as a kind of safety valve many generations ago. The idea being if we kept the knowledge alive, not just our history but the technology that helped to cause it, we’d have the security of not repeating our mistakes. Each generation has passed on the knowledge to the next, though it’s been kept secure for our society’s own good. Some of the technology we’ve kept in good repair, like the communications, though it has hardly ever been used. Other items have been left untouched, just the knowledge remains. However, much of it is still usable due to its original design and materials.
“Vrai has always had an interest in our past and retains a rudimentary knowledge of certain aspects of our ancient technology. Some of it must now be used to free us from the Mideans. It’s not a choice we wanted to make, we put it off as long as we could, but now we no longer have a choice.”
“You do have a choice,” Jon retorted. “You have the right to live the way you choose. If you consider it has value, then you must defend your way of life. If you have the power to do so you must use it. The fault lies with them, not with you.”
“You sound just like Vrai. She said, ‘We will drive them out or we will take them with us, but they will not take anything from us.’”
“Smart woman!” Manny said.
“Thank you, young man,” said a voice from behind, carrying a hint of laughter.
“Vrai. Did you find it all?” Triena asked her aunt as she approached. “Everything you wanted?”
“Yes, perhaps even more than I wanted,” she replied, her tone wistful. “I see you’ve told them, all we discussed?”
“Almost, I haven’t yet asked them for our exact requirements,” Triena said, glancing at Jon and Manny.
Vrai nodded. “Take your friends,” she said, motioning to Jon and Manny, “and show them.
I’ll explain it to the others. We can begin to plan then.” With a quick glance at Triena, she walked off to where most of the other Rhiava and the Questor crew members were talking in groups.
“Take us where?” Jon asked.
“And show us what?” added Manny, intrigued.
“Come, it’s not too far. It’s one of the devices we can use.” She headed off to the opposite side of the clearing.
They walked into the forest, it seemed little different from the way they’d entered the village from their crash site. Manny raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, but Jon just shrugged. Triena was nervous and excited, but Jon had no idea why. He hadn’t told Manny of his mental connection to Triena and had no wish to explain it just now.
As they moved, the trees grew thicker and more overgrown, the canopy lower and the undergrowth darker, ‘til all of a sudden Triena stopped and stared down at a precise spot on the ground. Jon and Manny followed her gaze and there, underfoot, was a stone step.
“Best be careful now,” she said, “it’s been many years since anyone has been here, I don’t know how safe it is.” She went down the three steps and the undergrowth opened into what once must have been a broad concourse.
It was hard to see with clarity due to shadows cast by the canopy and the thick undergrowth, but here and there were broken walls of varying sizes and decrepitude, steps, arches and an occasional pillar. There were signs of crystallized silica, marble and other types of stone. There was a particular dark substance, which on closer inspection proved to be a rather dense wood. In some places there was a metallic substance that still appeared brand new. It had been used inside the buildings as various kinds of fixtures and in most cases had outlived the stone and wood. On occasion, the lights of consoles and other devices could be seen still blinking.