Akuyun nodded, keeping his tone even, hiding his impatience. This ground had been covered many times, in many meetings. “Faster, yes, but not as efficient.”
Hizer drummed fingers on the tabletop and shifted his weight. “We all know the arguments. High Command plans carefully. Though we’re not averse to using overwhelming force, we can obtain our objectives at less cost if time is not a critical factor. Incorporating Caedellium is part of our long-term plans for expansion of the Empire, but with other ongoing conflicts bordering Narthon, our mission here is important, though not particularly urgent.”
“Efficiency is always an important factor,” Akuyun reiterated. “The Empire’s forces are engaged in many places worldwide, limiting the number of troops they can commit to Caedellium if it can be avoided. As Zulfa has said, the new men assigned to us are not the best. Even the original units sent here had poor performance ratings. High command didn’t think first-line units would be needed.” He smiled at Zulfa. “You did a good job of working those men into shape, and I’m sure you’ll do the same with the new arrivals.”
Zulfa snorted. “It’s unlikely they’ll ever be more than mediocre. We wouldn’t want to pit them against a real opponent.”
Akuyun pushed aside his unused notes on their mission through Phase Two. “Even so, they only need to be good enough to handle the Caedelli.”
Akuyun rubbed his cheek. “What we don’t want is for the clans to retreat to the mountains. It would take years to root them out. If High Command’s plan works, we’ll get most of the Caedelli to either cooperate or surrender with a minimum amount of our resources expended. Taking over the Preddi Province as we did was necessary but wasteful.” He eyed Zulfa. “Too much was destroyed and too many clansmen killed. We want to preserve as much as possible as we incorporate the islanders in the Empire. Living people are more useful than dead or enslaved ones. If possible.”
The decision formally made, Akuyun ended the meeting with a final reiteration of assignments. He didn’t believe a fundamental purpose could be drummed in too many times or subordinates reminded too often of their roles. The meeting also served to ensure that all of the senior commanders understood how their interrelated tasks fit together.
“Let’s keep our eyes on the details, gentlemen. Colonel Zulfa, the Eywellese and the Selfcellese are to slowly ratchet up their incursions into neighboring clan territories, but not so quickly as to cause the other clans to unite too soon. Keep on top of them, especially the Eywellese.
“Admiral Kalcan will handle the Buldorians and work with Administrator Tuzere on general intelligence gathering and planning seaborne raids. Tuzere will also assist Assessor Hizer in overseeing our overtures to selected clans, directing intelligence gathering, maintaining existing agents within Caedellium, and recruiting more agents as needed.”
The summary complete, Akuyun ended the meeting. “Gentlemen, we all know our assignments. Let’s get to it and bring the entire island into the Empire.”
Okan Akuyun and Wife
“Busy day, Okan?” Rabia Akuyun set a plate of food in front of her husband, then sat and picked up her fork. “I arranged for the children to spend the evening with Major Nubar’s family. I thought it would be nice to eat alone, in case you wanted to talk. Just the two of us.”
“Thank you,” Okan smiled. “From the aromas when I walked in, I assume you cooked this evening. Another clue is the smudge of flour on your elbow.”
“Well, the servants never quite get the seasoning right for braised beef the way you like it. And, as long as I was cooking, I figured I might as well bake fresh bread. Anyway, you know I like to lend a hand with preparing and serving the evening meal, and it’s been a while since I had a chance. It reminds me of the importance of family and that we’re not so far above other Narthani.”
He shook his head. “And because you enjoy it?”
“And because I like it. Even if cooking and serving are low-class, it’s sometimes relaxing.”
Rabia’s impish grin always brought a catch to his throat. He chuckled and filled her cup with Melosian tea, then poured himself a goblet of imported wine. “Well, you certainly don’t admit that to others.”
“That’s between us.” She sipped her drink. “Just like you only show me you’re not always the . . . ,” she lowered her voice and took on a dramatic tone, “totally assured commander of men.” Rabia touched his hand tenderly. Okan projected himself to others as confident and only allowed uncertainties to show with her, which was one of the reasons she loved him.
She canted her head. “How did the meeting go today?”
“Good.” He buttered a thick slice of bread. “We all agreed that we’re ready to move to the next phase.” He sopped up gravy with a wad of bread. “I’m relieved that none of the leaders brought up problems I hadn’t thought of.”
“And you expected there was something you hadn’t thought of?”
Okan grunted through a mouth full of beef and gravy, then swallowed. “Not really,” he admitted, “but you never know, and I try never to assume too much.”
He was cutting another piece of meat when he stopped, set both hands on the table, and looked fondly at his wife. “Thank you for this evening, dearest. I’m forever glad I have you and our two youngest children with me on this Caedellium mission.” He set down his knife, took her right hand, and kissed her fingers.
She felt a faint blush of pleasure at the gesture. “I’m glad, too. I’d have missed you terribly. I know we’ve always accompanied you, but this was to be so far from home and for so long, I wondered if this time might be different.”
Okan shook his head, released her hand, and resumed eating. “It’s not so far I wanted to be without you.”
While some of the Narthani officers brought their wives, others left their families back in Narthon or wherever in the Empire they originated. Some looked at this as an opportunity to “sample” the local women, and they took concubines or slaves. Akuyun had never felt the urge. Rabia came from a prominent Narthani family. She had seen great promise in the young Narthani officer serving under her father. Her family had not been pleased with her intention to marry Akuyun, his being from a subjugated tribe, albeit two centuries earlier. Only dim records remained of his original people. So thoroughly had they been absorbed that his family never considered themselves anything but authentic Narthani.
Rabia set down her cup and brushed back a strand of hair. “I know it’s a relief for you to finally move forward. We’ve been here two years, and we both would like to get back to Narthon.”
“It’s coming, dearest. Another year, two at the most.”
Okan drank from his wine goblet, then sighed. “Besides the meeting with my staff, there was the usual endless paperwork—annual evaluations of my immediate subordinates, and reviewing those of all the other officers. Then more paperwork and meeting with Tuzere and the other civilian leaders to review settlement progress and future expansions. Then more paperwork for the quarterly report due to be sent to Narthon. It’s still a month away, but I want it completed in a timely manner.”
Rabia raised her napkin to hide a smile. Her husband’s meticulous work habits, along with his native intelligence and force of personality, had been the three pillars that justified her evaluation of him those many years ago, as well as the basis of his fast rise in service to the Empire. “I’m sure you’ll finish on time and with your usual thoroughness,” she gently remonstrated. It had not only been his future potential that had attracted her, for theirs was a love match not usual in the upper reaches of Narthani society.
Okan smiled fondly. “Thank you, my dear, for the endorsement. I may include it in the report summary.” The interchange was part of a routine evolved over their twenty-seven years of marriage. Her hair showed gray strands, and the lines around her eyes had deepened with the years, but he still saw the young woman who once seemed out of reach to a junior officer. A beauty she might not be, but the lively eyes, the mischievous smile, when dire
cted at him, and the trim figure hadn’t changed, in addition to the indescribable something that made them belong together.
He had never been tempted by other women once he and Rabia wed. Narthani society mandated there be only one wife to avoid inheritance and dynastic conflicts that had been the bane of early Narthani history. Not that there was prohibition against a man having multiple women in his household, but there was only one wife, and her children would inherit. Any other women in the household, be they free concubines or slaves, were subordinate to the wife. Promising children of other women were formally recognized as the wife’s, and such children might inherit under some circumstances. In Akuyun’s case, the issues never arose. Rabia satisfied all of his needs—emotional, political, and sexual, and she was cognizant of all three roles.
“Narth forbid you mention a mere woman was consulted on anything of importance,” she teased.” It was another part of their interplay. Narthani society excluded women in any role outside the home. To her, it was a never-healing sore, and to him a stupidity that lost valuable contributions from women such as his wife. Not that they voiced such opinions except to each other.
“Don’t forget, you promised Lufta and Ozem you would be home tomorrow night for their eleventh birthday.” Okan and Rabia had decided that the fraternal twins were skilled riders and old enough to graduate from ponies to trained, docile horses for birthday presents. Ozem, the boy, had failed in his campaign to be allowed to choose his own horse, while Lufta was indifferent to horses and would be content with whatever her parents chose.
Okan sighed. “You’re right, I had forgotten. Thank Narth, you’re here as my memory for such things.” His smiled, taking years off his face. “I promise, dearest. Home in time for the birthday dinner.”
“Oh, Okan, before I forget, the mail packet included letters from Bilfor and Morzak. They’re on your desk.”
Their two oldest sons were twenty-five and twenty-three years old. The twins had come much later, after he and his wife thought there would be no more children. Bilfor and Morzak were junior officers in the Narthani army and had families of their own. Bilfor, the oldest, was steady and thorough. Akuyun thought he would rise to be a respected major or colonel, but likely no higher.
Morzak, however, seemed to have inherited the intellect and astuteness of his parents. Rabia suspected he was the brightest in the entire family, and Okan once told her he could see Morzak going far, possibly at least as high as his father. As for the twins, they were still too young to be sure, though Okan thought Ozem had potential, while Lufta’s mind flittered in all directions. Half the time, Akuyun thought she might turn into another version of her mother; the rest of the time he wondered if she would end up an empty-headed twit.
Through the rest of the evening, Okan and Rabia talked of family, of matters weighty and trivial, and of whatever their futures might bring.
Okan Akuyun finished eating, his belly full, a slight buzz from the wine, his eyes always coming back to Rabia. Life was good. He’d risen high and might go higher, the mission was progressing well, and he was more than pleased with his family. And then there was Rabia. Always Rabia. Life was good.
Chapter 6: Acceptance
Catharsis
Joe had no sense of time, only that days blurred together. He gained strength and needed less help getting to and from the dining hall and the voiding house. Finally, the day came when he no longer needed assistance and could walk the abbey grounds. The staff acted friendly. At least, he assumed and hoped so, since their speech remained unintelligible. He lived in a semi-mute world, seeing mouths move and hearing sounds, but not communicating. The pattern of his life was to wake, eat in the dining hall, walk the grounds, sit in his room, and fall asleep hours after dark.
In his explorations of the abbey grounds, he found places to avoid seeing another person. In the southeast corner of the abbey complex, where a fruit orchard abutted the eight-foot main outer wall, sat an old wooden chair. He would lean the weathered back against the wall and face a mixed row of lemon and a local fruit tree—foilamon, he later learned—which produced plum-shaped yellow fruit evocative of tomatoes and almonds. Though the taste combination was foreign to his palate the first time they served slices at evening meal, he came to appreciate the subtleties of the flavor mix.
On other days, he rested within formal gardens behind the cathedral: several acres of small trees, bushes, grassy plants, and flowerbeds accessed by a maze of paths. A wicker bench sat tucked away on a short, seldom-used side loop off a wider path. It was there, on this day, he sat contemplating his existence. The midday meal had been a combination of foods from both Earth and this planet: wheat for the bread, a stew of beef (he had seen cattle grazing in pastures outside the complex walls), and a mixture of unrecognized vegetables. For dessert, he’d eaten foilamon and a brown banana-like fruit with purplish flesh that tasted of raspberry and licorice.
That he could eat foods from plants and animal evolved on this planet told him the biochemistries of Earth and the local ecosystem were compatible, since he hadn’t been poisoned and his strength improved daily. The local organic molecules—proteins, carbohydrates, fats, and DNAs—must have similar basic structures as those on Earth. He thought it ironic that to one question posed by his planned presentation at the AAAS conference, “Alternatives to Standard Heterocyclic Bases in DNA of Exobiosystems,” he now knew the answer. Earth’s biochemistry was not unique. It was knowledge worthy of a Nobel Prize, except he was the only human in existence, now or perhaps ever, to possess it. Even worse, he had no one to share it with. He and the knowledge were locked away as surely as if both served life sentences in solitary confinement.
Gray clouds hid the sun, but an initial drizzle passed. Despite the cloak draped over his shoulders, he shivered in the chill air. The bench in the alcove allowed views of lovingly designed and tended pebble paths winding among a mélange of plants, perhaps a quarter of which he recognized or suspected of originating on Earth. The rest he assumed were indigenous. He studied the juxtaposition of striking foliage, bloom successions, and colors. Wherever his eyes turned, he saw variety. To the left grew a shrub covered in blue, bell-shaped flowers. To the right, yellow and red flowers rose from a bed of foot-high foliage. Across the path, a grass-like plant bore small white flowers on thin, nearly invisible stems. A breath of wind moved the grass, and the flowers seemed free-floating, dancing like a swarm of small white insects.
Joe followed the undulating passage of a butterfly with yellow and black markings. It fluttered past and settled on the blue flowers, sucking nectar from a blossom. It looked like a tiger swallowtail. Just like at home. For an instant, his imagination transported him back to Earth and let him pretend he was home.
The butterfly veered away as dragonfly-like creatures appeared. Their red-and-green striped wings flashed iridescent in the sunlight as they settled on the flowers. One unfurled a proboscis and probed for nectar.
Joe leaned closer and studied one of the strange insects. They had six wings, stood on four legs, and used two more appendages with small pincers to manipulate the flower petals.
It was not a terrestrial life form.
The illusion of being on Earth evaporated. He trembled, slumped, and covered his face with his hands. Tears ran through Joe’s fingers. Lost, alone, and desolate, he rocked, shoulders jerking as he sobbed.
The bench shifted, then moved again. Someone’s leg and body brushed against him. An arm draped over Joe’s back, and a hand gripped his right shoulder. The warmth of the person’s body seeped into his consciousness. The nearness of another human being, any human, anchored him. His sense of absolute loneliness faded, along with his sobs. A soft breeze caressed his face. Overhead, birds twittered, and in the distance a dog barked. Murmurs of workers in the vegetable garden filtered through the trees. The even breathing of the person brought Joe calm. He drew a shuddering breath, his emotions spent.
The tears and sobs simply stopped as if a faucet had turned off.
He still felt the loneliness but not the same sense of despair as before.
I’m alive. I’ll never see Earth again or any of the people I knew. Not my friends, family, Julie, our unborn child. I’ll never know whether it was a boy or a girl, or if it even existed.
He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun uncovering behind clouds. His skin warmed to the touch of brightness.
And everything else he knew. Every little thing. No Giants’ games. His lips curled into a wry smile at the hint of humor seeping into his list of losses. No Call of Duty video game sessions with friends, no summer days in the California wine country, no grousing whether the Democrats were more venal than the Republicans. No more wondering why anyone would care about the Kardashian family. No M&Ms. No single large moon, instead of the two small ones he’d seen here, or wondering why he liked some Country and Western music. It was all gone. He opened his eyes and stared across the garden. The soft wind dried the remaining tears on his cheeks.
To look at some bright sides, if Harlie had told the truth, he’d be immune to everything on the planet. He’d never have a cold again or any other disease. Also, no tooth decay, since it was caused by bacteria. Those had to be major pluses. Having cavities here had to be grim. No cancer. Fortunate, since there’d be no treatments. Harlie also said his physiology would be more efficient. Whatever that meant, he had no idea but hoped it was a good thing.
He gazed at the garden now bathed in sunlight, the last clouds clearing and the sun warming the air. Once more the bench shifted, and the person’s hand still gripped his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Fitham, the older, kindly brother, or perhaps the woman called Diera or one of the others who helped care for him when he first arrived.
Joe’s eyes slowly traveled from a massive chest to a broad face. It was the hulk of a man Joe had seen working around the abbey. He’d noticed the man on occasion, but he always seemed alone, as if the other staff avoided him. They had walked past each other once, the man never indicating that he noticed Joe, who was awed by man’s size. He was enormous—a good six-foot, seven or eight inches, and a solid 300 or more pounds of bone and muscle. A perpetual scowl framed his wild red hair and beard, but as Joe inspected the man’s face, he realized the scowl was only an impression given by the prominent brows and lines in the weathered face. Joe was drawn deeper. The eyes. Were they filled with concern . . . and compassion?
Cast Under an Alien Sun (Destiny's Crucible) Page 7