Questor

by L. S. Gibson

  “Jon, where are you? Jon!” Triena called, knowing he was close now. She saw a branch in the tunnel just ahead of her and was pretty certain Jon was just beyond that junction. She reached out with her thoughts again, trying to touch him now she was so close. She began to call out again too, excitement overcoming caution. Rather to her surprise she reached Jon with ease this time, but her shout died in her throat and she came to an abrupt halt. His emotions were no longer turbulent; they’d all merged into an overwhelming surge of relief and deep satisfaction. However, instead of giving her peace of mind, she felt just apprehension. She took a deep breath and took the right at the branch just ahead. She was chilled by the sight that greeted her.

  Lector’s body was a few feet ahead of her, his one remaining eye staring sightlessly at the rocky ceiling above. She’d known what to expect after seeing the vision of Lector’s death in Jon’s mind, but the comparison paled alongside the reality. Nearby lay Martin Henson, still alive but badly hurt. This fact pleased her, Jon believed he was dead. Across the cave was the body of a Midean. He’d not been hit with a Questor weapon set to stun, but on a somewhat higher level judging from the damage.

  And in the middle of the cave, as still as a statue, stood Jon Hardesty with his two hands in a grip of death around Charod’s throat.

  Jon’s emotions seemed to be shutting down. Triena could sense nothing now but utter exhaustion and a need to forget his pain, from whatever cause. Triena spoke direct to his mind.

  “Jon, it’s Triena. I’m here. Let Charod go now. He can no longer hurt you, or any you care for.”

  Jon gave a shudder and glanced around for Triena. “Jon. It’s all right now,” she spoke aloud. He still held Charod at arm’s length.

  “Tri-en-a?” he said. It seemed an effort to pronounce her name.

  She’d reached him by now and with care laid a hand on his right forearm. His eyes followed her hand as she touched him, and it was then he understood he was still holding Charod’s body. With a shock that Triena felt mirrored deep inside her own mind, he dropped the body as if it was too hot to handle.

  Ignoring Charod for a moment he squared his shoulders and stared direct into her eyes. “Triena,” he repeated, in a more normal voice, though tinged with sadness. “I’m sorry, but Lector...”

  “I know,” she replied.

  He continued to look at her for a moment, before allowing his eyes to travel down to Charod’s body. “I know you didn’t want this, but what he did here...I couldn’t let...” He stopped again, looking around the cave, before he took a breath and continued with more control, again looking at Charod. “It was just too much, Triena. First, Manny, then Lector, and even poor Martin who was no threat. He’d holstered his weapon because I asked him too.” He brought his eyes back to face her. “And it was all my fault. I had to be the one to make him pay, don’t you see?”

  Instead of answering his question, she gave him a ghost of a smile and imparted some good news. “Martin is still alive, Jon.”

  “What!” he exclaimed, his head snapping around to look toward Martin. He leapt across the distance between them in two bounds and knelt down next to his friend. “Martin, Martin?” Jon called, but Martin was still unconscious. “You’re sure?” he asked Triena.

  “Oh, yes,” she answered with a smile, “I’m sure. He needs help and fast, but I’ve stabilized him until we can get him back to Irida, he’ll be all right soon.” She gave him an odd smile, cocked her head to one side, and asked, “You haven’t realized, have you?”

  “Realized?” he asked puzzled. All of a sudden, in his mind’s eye, he saw Mychlo firing one of their weapons at the consoles. “Oh, of course, the shield,” he said, but without the excitement he’d have felt just an hour earlier.

  She frowned, and he felt her disappointment rather than saw her expression. “I’m sorry, but...” he began.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I understand. Too much has happened; the cost for you was too high.”

  “And for you,” he added. He felt her sense of deep loss, as he knew she felt his. Right then he needed her touch, or maybe it was she who needed him. It didn’t matter, they needed each other. Without another word they melted into each other’s arms. It seemed an age since he’d last found comfort, and a measure of peace, in her embrace.

  SEVENTEEN

  They used the Transmat to return and by the time they arrived a large party of Rhiava was awaiting them with stretchers for Martin and the other wounded, and a couple of others for the bodies of Manny and Lector. They’d left the Midean bodies where they were to be removed when the Mideans left.

  Their first concern was to get Martin and the other wounded to Irida. This time they travelled by air in a small Rhiava craft that Cosna called a Dart, the first proof the Rhiava were back in charge of their own world. It proved to be a small, swift craft which was also extremely stable, the perfect vehicle for transporting the injured.

  The mission was a success. The shield was down. The Mideans were defeated and imprisoned, just awaiting transport off the planet. Yet Jon felt no sense of achievement. As far as he was concerned he’d failed. He’d hoped when at last he faced Charod there would have been some sense of completion, instead he felt even more lost than before. The cost had been too high.

  Jon was relieved to hear some good news a few hours later when Irida reported Martin was making good progress.

  “He’ll be all right?” Jon asked with some life back in his voice.

  “Yes. He’ll be as good as new in a day or so.”

  Jon glanced at Triena, who nodded her confirmation. Jon beamed at Irida. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, taking her hands in his.

  Irida tried to hide her embarrassment as she backed out, bowing as she left. It was unusual for her to be thanked with such profusion, her skills were accepted as quite normal amongst her own people.

  After Irida left, Triena opened herself with care and reached for Jon. She didn’t want him to know she was searching, but she needed to know. A small success, she thought, not as much as had hoped perhaps, but the news gave Jon his first positive feeling since Manny had been killed.

  “Mistress?” called Sernov from outside the hut.

  “Come in, Sernov.”

  Sernov entered and, after bowing to Triena, spoke to Jon. “We’ve heard from your ship. Captain Sullivan asks you to contact him as soon as you’re able. I’ve already informed him Martin Henson is well on his way to recovery.” He gave Triena with a slight smile. “He also reported there’s another Midean vessel approaching, it’ll be here in about an hour. I informed him we can take care of this vessel ourselves now.”

  “How?” asked Jon, but it was an automatic question.

  Sernov glanced at Triena. She met his eyes and the message's passage was instantaneous. “Does it actually matter?” Sernov replied to Jon in a casual manner.

  “I suppose not,” he replied, “as long as everything is under control.”

  Sernov frowned at the forlorn disinterest in Jon’s voice. “Mistress, could I have a word with you, about Lector’s services?” he dissembled.

  Triena returned his frown, but replied, “Of course, if you will excuse us, Jon?” He nodded, distracted.

  “It’s sad Jon Hardesty is taking the death of his friend so hard,” Sernov commented when they’d walked a little way from the hut.

  “They were rather close. It's unfortunate he holds himself responsible, and no matter how many different people tell him otherwise he refuses to accept it.” She sighed and glanced over to Sernov knowing just what he was thinking. “I could interfere, but I’m trying to follow the advice of his own doctor,” Triena said, replying to the unspoken question.

  “Is that necessary? Either you, or Irida if you would prefer, could help tremendously.”

  “Yes, but that wouldn’t help him in the long term according to Doctor Mannion, as a large part of his problem is generated by guilt.”

  “But such guilt isn’t des
erved,” Sernov said.

  “Which is part of the problem. Jon has to accept that for himself, and I hope he will soon. Now, shall we discuss what plans you have made?”

  “Yes, of course, but before we get to that, I came to see you with a message from Mychlo. He has something of vital important he needs to discuss with you.”

  Jon roused himself, reckoning he couldn’t put off speaking to Captain Sullivan any longer. Commander Barlow had made a full, detailed report to the captain as soon as they’d quelled the Mideans, but Jon hadn’t had the heart to speak to his captain. He tapped his transmitter and said, “Hardesty to Questor,” in a voice he didn’t realize was cold and distant.

  “Questor here,” Piper replied, in his most official voice. “The captain’s in his ready room. I’ll pipe you through, Mr. Hardesty. Just a sec.”

  “Sullivan here. Well, Mr. Hardesty, it’s good to hear from you at last,” the captain said with a slight note of rebuke in his voice. He hesitated a second before continuing, his tone having softened. “Jon, I’m coming down to the surface soon to arrange the service for Manny with Sernov and Triena. It’s been suggested we join them in their service for Lector. I’m not too sure just what that would entail, but Sernov remarked Manny was held in high esteem by the Rhiava, and also that he and Lector had become friends. I wanted to know what you thought about the suggestion.”

  Jon listened as Sullivan was speaking, and for the first few moments he wanted to be anywhere but listening to the captain talking about a funeral for Manny, but then it occurred to him he was just being selfish. Manny had many friends among the crew, and some new friends in the local populace, and they’d all benefit by saying a fond farewell to their friend. And at last Jon acknowledged; so would he. However, he didn’t know how to respond to the captain’s request; he knew no more of the Rhiava rites than Sullivan did.

  He sighed. “To be honest, Captain, I’ve not considered the matter. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, but of course, you’re right. Something must be arranged. Let me think about it for a little while. I’ll get back to you.”

  “All right, Jon. Give this some thought too. After we’ve said good-bye to Manny, and we’ve got all the supplies the Rhiava are so generous in supplying, we’ll have to plan to move on. I wondered...well, what about Triena?” Captain Sullivan concluded, sounding rather awkward. After a short pause, he said, “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  The question hit him hard. What about Triena? What with all that had happened he’d forgotten there would come a time when he’d have to choose whether to stay with Triena or leave. He was torn in two; part of him wanted to continue the journey home with the rest of his friends on Questor, and the other part wanted nothing more than to stay and make a life with Triena. What was he to do?

  He walked outside and searched for her. He didn’t bother to use his eyes, he used his senses instead. He’d learned more and more as time passed how to link into her when he wanted. He thought about her, called out to her mind, and then she’d be there inside his mind with him. He was aware of her in a way he couldn’t explain even to himself, but it enabled him to know where she was. He headed off to the right toward the edge of the village, where he found her talking to Commander Barlow.

  “Are you all right, Jon?” she asked as he approached, and he wasn’t sure if she sensed his concern about her, or his quandary about Manny’s funeral service.

  “Yes, I suppose. I’ve just been talking to the captain. He asked my opinion about Manny’s service, and to be honest I didn’t know what to say.”

  Glancing first at Triena, Barlow said, “I’ve just been asking about their funeral service and, as I suppose you may know, they cremate their dead. I’ve checked with records and Manny had requested a cremation so that would pose no problem. And from what I’ve been told by Sernov their service isn’t that much different from ours.”

  “I think, Jon, that Manny wouldn’t object to our saying a joint farewell to both him and Lector. Do you?” Triena queried.

  “Yes, I think he would like that. He was always popular with everyone he ever met, your people are no exception, and he did seem to find much in common with Lector. I think he’d appreciate returning to the soil on this beautiful world. If he can’t return home, this would be the next best place.”

  The following evening Jon stood in a quiet glade in the forest not too far from Sanctuary watching the flames leap toward the sky. It sure was an emotive sight, and Jon felt cold and so alone as he watched the funeral pyre of his closest friend.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, he still couldn’t decide what to do next. Whether to go or stay. He’d not seriously thought about asking Triena to go with him; he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be willing to consider leaving her people.

  He made himself comfortable leaning against a fallen tree at the edge of the glade. Most everyone else had moved back toward a clearing not too distant where Wirva had laid out the ‘meal of remembrance’. For a moment he was reminded of the other time he’d sat under a tree in this forest, a lifetime ago now it seemed, when he first recognized he felt something for Triena. He also drifted back to that evening when he and Triena were on guard in the cave and had admitted their feelings to each other.

  He pondered the fact Triena had kept her distance during the ceremony and he felt her own uncertainty and perhaps another emotion he couldn’t quite pin down. He assumed she must know what was on his mind, in the literal sense. She’d shown some remarkable skills when the shield was in place, what could she be capable of now? He realized with a sudden jolt Triena hadn’t once mentioned her rejuvenated skills to him. He wondered why. Was it because he’d been so self-absorbed that she didn’t want to disturb him? That would be like her. However, was there another reason? She was across the other side of the glade talking to the captain and Sernov. He stared at her and found she was already watching him. He felt a sudden flash of concern. Her concern, he recognized.

  “Jon?” The sudden voice broke into his contemplation, and he glanced up to see Vrai regarding him with worry. Her concern soon became approbation under his gaze and she visibly relaxed. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked as she lowered herself to sit beside him. “I know you’re sad over your loss. I hope now you’re ready to continue.”

  “Continue?” Jon asked confused. “Continue with what? What are you talking about?”

  “You have much to do, much to decide, do you not?” She glanced over toward Triena standing beside the captain, but it wasn’t clear which of them she was studying. “You have a choice to make.”

  “Are you reading my mind now?” he asked, his tone bitter.

  She frowned, not understanding his reaction. “No, it’s not necessary, and I wouldn’t do such a thing.” Her frown cleared and she nodded, perhaps to herself, “Ah, you’re thinking about the return of our full gifts. No, no, we’d never invade someone like that. Our control is greater now too. The one person who’d link with you would be Triena, but you already know that, and share it.” He nodded confirmation. “No, it was just the obvious next step. I understand you face a difficult situation. I was talking to your captain a short while ago, and he told me a little of the loss you all felt when you understood how far from home you are. I can quite easily appreciate such a feeling. If I were ever to leave Rhiava, the idea of maybe not being able to return home would be too painful. But would it be less painful now to leave Triena?” she asked.

  “No, and that’s the problem. And I can’t ask her to come with me,” he replied.

  “So you do want to carry on with your journey home?”

  “Yes, I think so. It’s hard to explain, even to myself, but I feel I owe it to the others. We’re in this together, and I can’t just stay here in this beautiful place, and be so happy, while they struggle on. But, also, I want to go with them. Yet I can’t imagine life without Triena either.” His mood was a mixture of confusion and sadness.

  “So you would take her with you if you could?�
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  “Of course, but...” His voice tailed off. He gave her a bleak smile. “You can see my dilemma.”

  “Yes, but do you not see her dilemma too? She knows your feelings; she knows as well as you that you wish to leave if you could. As much as you’re hurting, so is she.” She gave an absent rub to the painting on her temple. “I don’t think avoiding each other is helping though, do you?”

  He gave a sheepish grin. “Is it that blatant?”

  Vrai grinned back, and her smile reminded him so much of Triena that his heart contracted. I can’t leave her behind, I just can’t. Then he sensed Triena touching his thoughts, and he felt her anguish mirror his own.

  Then, on the other side of the glade, raised voices could be heard. Jon stared in the direction of the commotion, more in reaction than real interest. However, Vrai rose to her feet and her apprehension was patent. Vrai glanced over toward Triena and Jon followed her gaze. Triena was frowning, and from not too far away Sernov was already moving in the direction of the disturbance.

  Vrai also began to head toward the excitement and Jon followed. It transpired Mychlo was at the center of whatever was going on. He was in a heated discussion with a couple of the Questor’s crew who were agitated. The captain arrived with Triena at almost the same moment as Vrai arrived followed by Jon.

  They found a rattled Mychlo surrounded by Henson, Simpson, and Singh.

  “Whatever’s the problem?” Sernov asked, bothered by the emotive attitude of the crew. He stared toward Mychlo who now appeared embarrassed. “Ah,” continued Sernov reaching his own conclusion by some invisible method, “this is most unfortunate.” He reprimanded the young Rhiava. “Mychlo, you should have known better.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry,” Mychlo replied. “I got so involved I forgot to whom I was speaking. Please forgive me.” He performed a low bow.

  “What on the earth is wrong? Why does he need forgiveness?” asked a somewhat puzzled Captain Sullivan. He glanced over at Jon as if he could provide some answers, but Jon was as confused as the others.