“I heard my parents crying and arguing when the heavy footsteps approached our home well after bedtime. I watched through the crack in the door as the cloaked pair entered: pale skin, red eyes.” Aimie paused, glaring at Ven and Fayle as if they were the very duo that had abducted her brother.
“Then he was in their arms. He sobbed, and my mom did too, but my dad accepted the credit transfer with grim satisfaction. Brion shouted for me as he was dragged from our front door, but my father held me back, told me Brion needed it, and that I’d never go without again.”
Tom inhaled, the air in the room feeling stuffy and dense. “I’m sorry.”
Her chin found her chest, and she straightened, wiping away the last tear, and she was once again the powerful R-emergence doctor. “I’m but one story among the countless, but you understand my point.”
Elder Fayle watched her with a softness Tom hadn’t seen from the woman before. “I am also sorry that it came to this. The Talent takes hold of our young in different capacities. We believe that it’s a gift from beyond the Vastness, in the center of the universe where life begins and ends. The Vastness began to grow volatile centuries ago and has erupted some of its essence, if you will. We are the result.” She pointed at herself, then to Ven. “If your brother hadn’t been brought to us, he would have died. You know this, right?”
Aimie Gaad shook her head. “That’s not true. There have been cases…”
Elder Fayle stopped her. “That is not correct. Those are falsified. Those children never had the Talent, but another illness that made them see spots. It’s a degenerative retinal condition that’s never been tested beyond the simple minds of the Founders’ medical community. No, this is what happens if one with Talent goes free.” She slid a tablet from a concealed pocket inside her robe and activated it. A projection appeared on the table above it, and Tom stared at the gruesome sight.
It had volume, and the image showed a young girl of maybe six in a stone-walled room, standing on a cot. She screamed, clawing at her eyes. The bed shook, and she raged on, her shrieks cutting through Tom’s spine. The girl began to float, her hair standing tall, raking her face with fingers, and eventually, she collapsed into a heap on the hard ground, blood pooling from her open mouth. She was dead. The room in the projection faded out.
Doctor Aimie Gaad sat with a palm over her mouth, staring in terror. “That could be set up…”
Fayle shook her head. “No, dear. I understand why you think we’re evil, why you are personally invested in this, but your brother would have shared this one’s fate if we hadn’t come. I know you do not understand, but we have to bring them to live with us. To train them, to cultivate the Talent. It is the wish of the Vastness, and we are but servants to it.
“I expect you were not well off. Is that correct?”
Aimie didn’t say a word, but her eyes answered for her.
“And the compensation provided to your parents: did that help you acquire the education you needed to become one of the most renowned neuroscientists in the Concord?” Fayle was unrelenting, but Tom found her logic sound.
It appeared to be working on the doctor as well. “You could say that,” Aimie offered.
“We never wanted to be in hiding, but as you can see, so many people do not understand what we stand for, or why we do the things we do. Our fleet was created to be of assistance at the proper time, and the Concord needed us. We were there to help. All that we asked for was solidarity in return. To gather together as a nation of Ugna, and to live outside the shadows for the first time in our lives. Do we not deserve this? Shouldn’t your brother, Brion, have a chance at a life beyond our meager villages?”
Tom saw the flicker of acceptance cross Aimie’s brow, and he knew the Elder had her.
“Is he here?” she asked, and Tom wondered if this was her true reason for protesting.
Elder Fayle shrugged. “I suspect he’s among our ships at this very moment. It would take some time, but once we’re grounded and on Driun F49, I would be happy to personally see that this reunion takes place.”
That was it. The protest would be over as soon as Doctor Aimie Gaad called it off. Ven kept silent, and Tom wondered how much of the meeting had been natural and how much was Fayle exuding her Talent over their host. The big Tekol at Aimie’s side leaned in, whispering unheard words, and the doctor pursed her lips.
“I’ll call it off, for now. I’d like to speak with some of your people after you’re settled, and… Brion, if possible,” she said, rising from her seat at the end of the table.
“Very well. It might prove difficult at this time, but we will attempt it,” Fayle said, passing a slight bow to the woman before turning and exiting the meeting room. Ven was quickly on her tail, but Tom lingered behind. He glanced at the Tekol man, and the guy seemed to take his hint, leaving the pair of them alone.
“Are you okay with this outcome?” Tom asked her, not wanting to change her mind, but assuring she was making her own decision.
“I have to be, don’t I? I… it’s been thirty years, Captain. Have you ever had something consume you so much that you have no choice but to follow it?” she asked.
He considered the question, thinking about his own mother and the path he was provided being raised by Constantine Baldwin, the great War hero. He’d never had a choice but to take this route in life, but now he was being offered a change of pace. “I understand completely.”
It had been a long time since Tom had made the time to consider any romantic relationships, but there was something drawing him to this woman. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment before she reached over, turning the lights to full. The sudden brightness was a shock to his system, and he guessed the meeting was over. He started for the door, stopping only when she called his name.
“While we’re here, what do you say to dinner?” she asked.
Eight
Have the asset. Captors want a trade. Her for Keen. Please confirm.
“Is it the same Keen?” Reeve asked. It had to be… right?
“What in the Vastness would this group want with Lark Keen?” Treena asked.
Reeve thought about it, and had an idea. “Brax told me something in private.”
“Go on,” Doctor Nee said, half-sitting on the desk beside her.
“When he dropped Keen off at the robot prison… Keen told him that many of the outside worlds had given him sanctuary, and that he’d befriended races beyond the Border. He implied he’d give information to the Concord in exchange for his freedom, or at minimum, strict isolation with his family,” Reeve said.
“That means this race really might want to trade your asset for Keen,” Treena said, pacing the dark room, her LightBot tracking above her.
“I don’t understand,” Caalizan said. “Who is Keen?”
“You haven’t heard?” Reeve asked, before remembering the Concord had kept a tight lid on the entire Assembly fiasco. Too many questions would be raised, mostly about the ineptitude of the government for letting something like that occur under their watch. It had worked out for the best.
“No, but if the Vusuls want him, then I suspect there’s a good reason,” Caalizan remarked.
“Vusuls? Is that your cousins’ name?” Reeve asked.
Caalizan nodded. “It is, though they’re not much like us. Their world was harsh, the gravity different, Class Zero Seven. They’ve evolved into brutes, massive beasts unlike any of the Founders.”
“And if they went to all this trouble over securing Keen, couldn’t they have just broken him out of prison?” Nee asked.
“No,” Treena answered. “They don’t have his location. It’s not on record anywhere.”
“What could they possibly want so badly with one man? Why go to all this work? Killing the power here? Destroying a space station, and battling a fleet of dreadnaughts… to steal the last known original Pilia.” Reeve pondered this, tapping her chin.
“Whatever the reason, it has to be big. Either way, we need t
o help these people. Both of them,” Treena said. “Caalizan, we have an entire crew aboard Shu. We’re going to help scour the cities for survivors. But first, we need to communicate with them so they don’t think we’re the enemies. Reeve, you take Conner and head to the rooftop. Make it clear we’re working together. On second thought, bring him with you.” She pointed at the old Minon scientist.
Reeve nodded, happy to be busy. She could handle that part of the mission with ease. “Consider it done.”
Treena stopped Reeve near the stairwell, speaking privately.
“This is strange, don’t you think?” Reeve asked the commander.
“It is. But what choice do we have? If their only salvation lies in the hands of this woman, we need to return her,” Treena said. “We also need to get word to Baldwin. We may have to trade Keen.”
Reeve nodded and set to work.
____________
They were moved in the middle of the night. Gotran wasn’t really sure of the time of day or what their motive was, only that they were sleeping when the guards arrived. There were four of them, and Gotran blinked his eyes open to face the barrel of an immense alien weapon.
The leader shoved the gun into his chest and spoke. “Up. Follow us. Bring the girl.”
They fearfully obeyed, and Gotran remained protectively at Charlan’s side. She was awake, her eyelids only half open. “What’s happening?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Gotran rose, helping the girl to her feet. They walked out of the room, past the cell limits, and through the corridor. He tried to gauge how many days they’d been stuck here, and was confident it had been no more than seven. He already felt thinner, the food not doing enough to replenish his caloric intake.
Charlan appeared no different; not that he expected her to.
He leaned over, whispering in her ear, “We do what they say. I think our message might have been replied to. If it was, it means the Advisors have agreed to the terms, or they’re playing along like I was. Because I imagine they’ve never heard of a Keen either.”
The guards’ footsteps were loud and heavy as they exited the ship’s brig, and Gotran found himself in a giant hallway. The walls were twenty feet high, at least that wide, and it was clear this enemy had a lot of troops. There were hulking aliens everywhere he looked, some wearing white lab coats, others with shiny silver robes. Many were armed, like the soldiers leading them to an unknown destination.
He tried to memorize as many details as he was able. Corridor breaks off to the right thirty paces past central engineering access. The glowing drive was visible from the open doorway, but Gotran would have assumed it was inside there regardless. The hair on his neck rose as they walked past it, and he tasted a slight electrical current on the tip of his tongue. This ship was huge but lagged in modern advances. This one didn’t have the Bentom ball perfected yet, which meant the shield around the drive was only operating at around forty percent.
The guards stopped suddenly, and Gotran only realized it at the last second, halting before he faceplanted into one of their wide frames. “In here,” the leader said. It wasn’t the same goofy man from the two visits to their cell, and Gotran wondered where that one was as they entered the room.
It was some kind of foyer with lounging chairs, lockers to the left and green plants on the right, lining the far wall. The space didn’t feel at home with the rest of the dark retro ship.
“Through here.” There was another door that took them to a hallway with dozens of doorways. Charlan clutched his arm, her breathing quick and hectic. He peered at her, her brown eyes darting around in fear.
“Calm yourself,” Gotran said quietly, but it did nothing to put her at ease.
Two of the guards had lingered in the foyer, and these two walked to the last door on the right, using a keypad to open it. “Inside.”
Gotran moved past them, hating to leave his back exposed. The room was a far change from their cell, and he wondered what in the Vastness was going on. The guards closed them in, and he heard the beeping of the lock through the entryway.
“What’s happening?” Charlan asked again.
Gotran didn’t answer right away. He took the opportunity to sweep the room, checking each door. This was a nice suite: something he’d expect to find at a Concord resort beach, not inside this gargantuan vessel. The décor was plain, a spattering of beige and grays, but everything was clean, well-kept. Charlan stood by a plush sofa, her fingers tracing a line on the top cushions.
“There are two rooms. One for each of us, I assume,” he told her. There was something like a kitchen, with unfamiliar cooking utensils. He opened some cupboards, which were quite universal, and found they were stocked with rows of simple containers of food.
He searched for any electronics—a viewscreen, a tablet—but found none. Charlan began to talk, and he shushed her, listening for something. He quietly moved through the living space, finding what he’d expected above a table with two chairs. He climbed onto its surface, the metal holding his weight with ease.
Gotran craned his neck, hearing the gentle whirring of the device. They were being watched, most likely. If not video surveillance, their enemies were at least listening in. He climbed down and tapped his ear, relaying the information to Charlan. She didn’t appear to understand.
Gotran grabbed her gently by the arm, ushering her toward the kitchen. It was the farthest point in the room from the listening device, and he opened the pantry door, jamming his head inside and waving her to join him. “I think it’s time you told me everything. What do you remember?”
She blinked, her gaze going distant. “We left. Father said we were going to a new planet, searching for our eventual home, but… someone attacked us. We were forced into stasis. Father said he’d join me, but… I don’t think he did. Everything shook as the lid closed on me, sealing me inside, and then it all went cold. My teeth chattered…” A hand covered her mouth at the memory. “When I woke with the Minon people around me, they said I was the only one to survive. And that… it had been ages since our ship left Celevon.”
“And did they conduct any tests?” Gotran asked.
She nodded. “They told me the Seeli and Minion were related to me, and that I was their savior.”
“And your name?” he asked.
“I didn’t remember it then, but I do now. Evyline. They named me Charlan.”
“That was our First Advisor. It was a moniker to honor you. I fear it drew attention where it wasn’t wanted,” Gotran told her. “What would you have me call you?”
“Eve. It’s what my father always did,” she said.
“Okay, Eve. We’ll make it through this. They’ve relocated us here, which means they either understand your importance and want to make you comfortable, or they’re trying to trick us to speak freely.” Gotran predicted the latter.
“Why?”
“Only time will tell.” Gotran wondered if the Advisors had replied to the ransom message yet.
____________
Dinner was delicious. Ven wouldn’t leave the R-emergence yacht without Tom, so they’d told him to find sustenance in the mess hall with the rest of the crew while Tom and Aimie enjoyed each other’s company.
“This was the tastiest genino I’ve ever tasted. You must have the best ChefBots in the galaxy.” Tom gave the compliment on the off chance she’d cooked the meal herself.
“Now I see the true Thomas Baldwin, don’t I? A flatterer unlike any other.” Her eyes danced as she smiled at him from across the table. They were in her quarters, and normally, he might feel pressure being invited to such an intimate setting so quickly. With her, he was fully at ease. She had a calm demeanor, and though their conversation had been mostly surface until this point, he’d been enjoying it.
“I’m not one to overdo it. I meant what I said.” He used the napkin to wipe the corners of his lips, and he set it on top of the plate, reaching for his glass of Vina. “Not to mention the vintage of this. I haven’t eaten som
ething this good since the old man celebrated my graduation.”
“Your father?” she asked, and he tried to hide the flicker of irritation he felt at the question.
He shook his head, taking another sip. “My grandfather. My parents died when I was young.”
She coughed, looking embarrassed. “Tom, I’m so sorry. I know as well as anyone that Constantine Baldwin’s only daughter and her husband died prematurely.”
Prematurely. He averted his gaze.
“Again, I didn’t mean…”
“You’re rambling,” he told her, releasing any anger he had. His parents had been gone a long time, and it wasn’t Aimie’s job to recall every detail about the very public figure of his grandfather.
“I do that when I’m nervous,” she admitted.
Tom cocked an eyebrow. “Nervous?”
“I spent so many years fighting and building up a case against the Ugna, Tom, you have no idea. Now it’s overwhelming me, and I don’t know what to do with myself. Then… when I first learned you were going to be delivering them, I sensed I wanted to meet you. Perhaps some good can come from my obsession after all.” She rose, clearing away the dishes. He stood to help, but she urged him to remain seated. “I do use a Bot for cleaning dishes, so you won’t need to get your hands wet.”
He laughed, and any tension in his chest from the last week parted from his body. He changed the subject. “Were you involved in the Bacal project?”
She bustled around her quarters, cleaning up for a couple of minutes while she spoke. “I wasn’t there until the end, but Vicci did a wonderful job. She’s the lead at Earon, if you…”
Baldwin's Legacy: The Complete Series Page 93