Crystal Dreams

by Astrid Cooper

  Connal frowned. It was incomprehensible to him that Jenna and that pale-faced Asarian had become mutually besotted the moment they laid eyes on one another. Still, his former lover was never backward in certain respects. She always knew what she wanted! He wished her happiness.

  “What is to be done with the alien invaders?” Connal asked.

  “For the moment we have contained them in the trans-mat rift. We have appraised them of the situation. They have agreed to wait while our people devise the necessary means to return them home. However, it will require the use of the trans-mat, with your permission, Lord MacArran."

  “There is no risk of further invasion?"

  “None. They understand their predicament only too well. Now that we are aware of them, and know how to combat them, they are only too willing to return to their dimension."

  “In defeat they are amiable, but I trust them not!” Connal hissed.

  “They are an alien species. Their thought processes are not like ours,” Alleron said.

  Connal shook his head. “You be very forgiving. Your people were kidnapped and killed.”

  Alleron shook his head sadly. “We were the only creatures who could sense their presence, understand their intent, and combat their desire to merge. Invasion of another species, whether mental or physical, goes against our code. We would fight to the death against any creature who dared try impose itself on another. The aliens knew this."

  “You should have been there, Con.” Garris’ eyes shone. “The enemy refused any peaceful resolution, so the Asarians launched an offensive. The battle for the dream-dimension was relentless. These Asarians must have some Caledonian blood somewhere, to fight as they did! They saved our world."

  “Aye?"

  Garris nodded. “The aliens were powerful. If they had been able to concentrate all their forces for an assault on Caledonia, they would have won through. Their strength was divided. Most of the alien force faced the Asarians."

  “So you kept the enemy off our backs?” Connal asked.

  “Yes,” Alleron said. “The instant we withdrew from the dream-scape, they launched their attack on Caledonia."

  “I wondered why there was no sign of the aliens after our second dream-sharing, Con. You had the right of it. You said my father was dealing with them,” Liandra said.

  “And the trans-mat? Once you have finished with it, you can destroy it?"

  “If that's your wish. Some of my people believe the machine has been damaged, for its emanations feel wrong. A little fine-tuning and it should be operational without the risk of tearing space-time. The machine is too valuable to be destroyed, Lord MacArran. We could safe-guard it for you."

  Connal sighed and ran a hand through his hair. That headache was back, only much worse than before.

  “I will consider it. Thank you for your help.” He handed them each a goblet of wine.

  Alleron Tavor sipped his tentatively. “Why it's very good. Almost like Verian juice."

  “But twice as potent, father. Be careful."

  “Are you talking from experience, daughter?"

  Liandra blushed. “Yes."

  “I have sent word to the Council. They are on their way here,” Connal said tightly. “I need to know what you intend with my world."

  “That depends upon you. We have never foisted ourselves upon any species that does not want us. You have many choices. Liandra has explained some of your misgivings to me. They are unfounded."

  Connal grunted. “You are but the first ship..."

  “No, Con.” Garris said. “The ship's crew came in blind, the navigation systems were off. The only way I would agree to bringing the League to our door was if Alleron swore that only he would know the location of Caledonia, through our private mind-link."

  “Star-farers know the patterns of the constellations,” Connal began.

  “Yes, but your anonymity will be ensured. My promise to you, Lord MacArran. The ship's automatic navigation recorder has been rendered inoperative, and each of the crew has agreed to undergo a debriefing once home, to ensure that no one has inadvertently figured the location,” Alleron said.

  Garris nodded. “We've covered every aspect, Con. Caledonia is safe."

  “Safe? With the League swarming over my halls, poking and prying?"

  “It will be wrong for you to stand in the way of progress,” Alleron said, gently.

  “Progress? Is that what you call it?"

  “I don't believe it would be in your best interests to close yourself off from the League."

  “Best interests! Whose best interests are we talking about here?"

  “And you are forgetting Arran's message,” Garris said. “That we must..."

  “Must take our place in the galaxy. Yes, I remember!” Connal sipped his wine. “Perhaps in some respects my fears are groundless. I am not wholly convinced. As to why, let me tell you a story."

  Connal heaved himself out of his chair and paced up and down the room.

  Liandra watched him, sensing his foreboding. Seven Stars! She wished she could go to him and hold him, kiss and love away his fears, open her mind to him, so that he could read the truth—everything. Except she knew it would be the greatest mistake of her life, turn him completely from her with no hope of salvaging any of their former intimacy. He was a man coming to terms with the loss of everything he held sacred. She looked down at her hands linked tightly in her lap.

  Connal cleared his throat. “Seven hundred years ago my ancestors arrived here. Not through choice, but abduction. There had been a terrible battle on their home world. As a conquered people, they were subjected to such tyranny that they were in peril of losing their identity. Their culture was forbidden them. Many perished because of the hardships inflicted upon them. Help arrived, from an unexpected quarter."

  He ceased his pacing and glanced at his audience. His smile to them was forced, bitter.

  “The home world of my ancestors was often visited by star-farers. One such race took pity on the vanquished, and over four hundred people from among the sundered clans were brought here."

  “Which race dared do such a thing?” Liandra demanded.

  “A people who were desperate. They are long gone, Lady Witch. We are all that remain of them."

  “I don't understand."

  “If you keep interrupting, then your questions are not going to be answered!” Connal drew in a steadying breath. “The aliens were an old, dying race. They had lost their ability to reproduce. For one last chance at survival, they needed younger, vibrant creatures with whom to merge, mentally and physically. Since my ancestors were captives, they were not given the choice when this process was inflicted upon them."

  “This is why you loathe the mind-touch of an alien so much?"

  “Aye, Liandra. We retain a memory of that time so long ago."

  “But..."

  Connal frowned at her, silencing her. She could not understand his reticence. What he told these League foreigners was never spoken of. Remembered, only. Now he had to reveal the deepest secrets of his people to aliens.

  “When the merging was completed there were unexpected results. The people re-learnt many things, so long forgotten. Love returned to their world. They were no longer sterile, and from their unions came a new race, a blending of the two. Their offspring were cherished, so much so that this world was shielded from discovery. And so it has remained. Until now."

  “I don't understand,” Liandra began. She glanced at Garris and Fianna. Their faces were downcast. “There's so much which doesn't make sense. You say you are a hybrid race. Whom do you resemble? Your ancestors, or the aliens who abducted them?"

  Connal ran fingers through his hair, wincing as his temples throbbed. The headache was sickening. “The original blood of my ancestors was too strong to dilute! Ours is a very stubborn race. Little by little we have reclaimed ourselves, though certain taints of that alien breed still remain. The telepathy for one. And every generation, each chieftain receives a gift. Su
ch appears at a pre-designated time and place. Eventually, we were given devices with which to view our solar system, and then later, other monitors to watch the League. We know what is out there."

  “Then you know you have nothing to fear,” Liandra said.

  “On the contrary. Caledonians do fear it, with justification. We do not want to run the risk of losing our identity, again, to some alien culture. Fate has determined otherwise. Seven hundred years ago, Arran and the other eleven clans made this their home. Now I am the last in the line of Arran. ’Tis ironic to realize that this last son of Arran is also the first to return to the stars."

  “And do you know the original planet from where your ancestors were abducted?” Liandra asked.

  Connal smiled bitterly. “That I do, Mistress! Only too well. We were called Highlanders. We are from the land of the Scots. Scotland. In the poetry of our ancestors their land was called Caledonia, the name we bestowed on this world, when it was transformed to resemble the Highlands. Our ancestors were from Terra."

  Liandra gasped and looked to her father. He nodded a silent confirmation.

  “Garris explained a little of this, though he kept the secret remarkably well from me,” Alleron said.

  “The time for our isolation is over,” Garris said. “There's no going back, Con. We can't ignore what's out there!"

  “That is for the Council to decide."

  “Blast them! They can't deny us. They can't!"

  Connal raised a quizzical brow. “That sounds very much like an ultimatum. What if the Council refuses to open Caledonia to the League?"

  Garris’ face twisted with pain. “I hope I'm not forced to make a choice. I can't forget. Caledonia will always be my home, the place of my heart, but I would see other worlds."

  Connal glanced at Liandra meaningfully. I told you so! He knew she received the message by the widening of her eyes as she gazed at him.

  “To confine your people to one world when they have glimpsed the endless possibilities of the universe, Lord MacArran, in the end it will destroy your world."

  “That I know, Maer Alleron. As I see it, my world is doomed whichever way I look at it. Already I know the mind of the Council. Not a unanimous decision by any means, still, Caledonia will enter your blasted League, whether I like it or not. Our ancestors foresaw these events. They prepared the way by the gifts of the star-ships, and the trans-mat. All their machinations have been to this end, to join the League. We would have been found eventually, even if I had not gone off-world seeking my missing kinsman!” He threw up his hands in resignation. “However, this world shall have restricted access. If Caledonians travel off-world that is their affair, but numbers visiting here will be controlled. I want you to ensure this, Maer."

  “Of course, it will be my honor."

  Connal smiled bitterly. “I hope my trust in alien honor is not misguided."

  “It won't be, that I promise. I'll contact the League and ask for a delegation of envoys. They can handle the negotiations.” Alleron stood up.

  “All this talking has given me an appetite.” Garris rose to his feet, drawing Fianna with him.

  Alleron Tavor laughed. “Caledonians have an amazing capacity for food."

  “Aye, for real food!” Garris grimaced. “Con, they tried to feed me with concoctions somewhat like milk. ’Tis a long time I've been weaned from my mother, I told them. I thought I'd starve to death on their fare, before I got back home. Good night to you."

  Connal smiled. “Wait a moment, Liandra, please. You and I must talk."

  Liandra remained seated as the others left the room. She watched Connal lean back against the door. He looked exhausted.

  “So My Lady Witch, now you have the answers to your questions."

  “Yes.” Oh yes, but no answers to those questions I can't ask. Those silent ones that hurt, that kept her awake at night. “I understand why you don't like mind-touching aliens, Connal."

  Was that why he had become so cold and distant to her in the cottage? Had he sensed what she had tried to do? Had she, in her passion, irretrievably lost him when she had reached out with her mind as well as her body?

  “Because of the events triggered by the trans-mat you were forced to relive those things you hated the most. Little wonder...” Liandra bit back the rest of the words. Little wonder that you hate me so!

  She could not look at him, afraid she would see the loathing. She'd remember the way his eyes regarded her in the cottage. Lover's eyes, glowing amber-gray from the flickering firelight.

  Connal came to stand at her side and looked down at her bowed head. His fingers stirred into life. Despite their differences, despite what had happened in the cottage, he needed her, wanted her—badly.

  How he wished he could caress her silver hair, take her into his arms and love her again and again—and again! But he could not. Even if, somehow, she accepted him, what did he have to offer her?

  It would be years before his world was completely opened to League technology. There would be embargoes and only the best of what the League had to offer would ever enter Caledonia. As MacArran it was his duty to see to it. Liandra had made it perfectly plain that she loathed the primitive conditions on his world. She would not be happy anywhere else but with the League. And he?

  His place was on Caledonia. Responsibilities, obligations before his own needs. Again!

  “The years ahead will be difficult for Caledonia,” Connal said, huskily.

  “My father's diplomats will help you. They've done so in the past, and no world or its people have suffered."

  “For that I will be grateful. Tonight the household plans a celebration to formally welcome the League. Will you attend?"

  “Of course."

  The silence stretched between them.

  “We have come a long way you and I, Liandra Tavor. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would not change a thing."

  “Nothing?” She dared not raise her gaze to his.

  “Your father tells me he will be leaving in two days. You will go with him?”

  Liandra stared down at her lap, tears pricking her eyes. He hadn't asked her to stay. Wouldn't. He knew something of her needs and he couldn't fulfill them, even if he wanted to. He had always found her a nuisance... I'd send you off-world so fast your head would spin—he had said that not so long ago. She marshaled her strength. She had to maintain her mask for her sake as much as his.

  “Yes, I'll go home. I have my work to do."

  “Aye, your work is very important to you, as mine is to me.” He strode to his desk and returned, dropping her enviro belt into her lap, along with her Asarian ring. “These I return to you. Jenna found the ring among your things when I first brought you to Caledonia. She stole it, I'm sorry to say. Now she is recovered, she tries to make amends. It is disconcerting to have her so eager to please."

  “I've always missed my ring."

  “Aye. I know that. ’Tis sorry I am that my kinswoman was a thief."

  “You must forgive Jenna, for she was not herself. You will not punish her?"

  Connal shook his head.

  “There is still one thing which puzzles me, Con. You said your grandfather received the first of the star-ships. Before your gift of the trans-mat, how could you get from the surface of Caledonia to your orbiting ship?"

  He smiled. “I wondered how long it would be until you considered that. My grandfather received three flier-craft, not dissimilar to the League contraption sitting on my field. That way we transported from surface to space."

  “And where are these ships?"

  “I have a storage hangar not an hour's ride to the south.”

  “You kept that secret, like so many others."

  He chuckled. “'Tis true. For I understand you only too well, My Lady! That if you knew I had flying craft, even if I chained you to the dungeon walls, you would have defied me and found a way to escape, and stolen one to get away from me. You can be very determined. Do I have the right of it?”
<
br />   His gentle teasing tore at her insides, she felt the tears brimming in her eyes. “Aye, you have the right of it, Connal MacArran.” Liandra stood up, shakily. “I should go now, as I've got a lot to do before I leave."

  “Aye,” Connal said, quietly.

  She did not look back as she fled the chamber.

  Connal silently watched her departure and slumped down onto his chair. He twirled the goblet in his fingers and gulped down the wine in one mouthful.

  “Damn it to the coldest hell. Why cannot I be free to go with you?” He hurled the goblet into the fireplace. Heaving himself to his feet, he stalked up and down the chamber. Fury. Sorrow. Desolation. The sensations whirled around his mind and body.

  If only—if only he were not chieftain. If only the responsibilities of the clan rested with some other. He would leave the world so fast all heads would spin, not just his. He smiled grimly, remembering his angry words to Liandra. Always so much anger between them, so little gentleness, so little love.

  He wanted to see for himself the wonders that Garris had described. Experience what Liandra had ... How could a man stay confined to one world in the face of the hinted wonders out there?

  And the greatest wonder of all, his love for the alien witch. His beautiful lady. A dozen women had tried to ensnare him. Their vying and conniving to gain his title had amused him. To no avail. He had been totally vanquished by Liandra the moment she had walked out into her living room, green hair and all. He smiled to remember that day.

  Yet despite everything, he could not leave. Always, duty and loyalty to his people, before any personal consideration. He could not renounce his obligations. Not for anyone. He and Liandra had shared a night of intense loving. For the rest of his life, that memory would have to sustain him. She had gifted her body to him, for her own reasons, and love not among them. While he—he had been ready to do anything she asked. Be all for her—in time. And time they did not have. She was eager to leave, to return to her place in the League. And he would stay. Alone. That was that.