by Emanuel, Ako
She moved her shoulders. “Just that you and Ro-Becilo’Ran had done something that had gotten you into a lot of trouble. That you can’t use your Nil’Gu’ua, and that’s why you couldn’t contact me.”
“I really can’t say much more than that,” he gestured helplessly. His parents had not expressly forbidden him to talk about what he had done, but he understood that it was in his best interest not to. If anyone else knew, they would be obligated to inform the authorities, and he would be in even more trouble. Why his parents had not done so, especially since they were officials of the governing body, he was at a loss to guess. “Except... I’m not allowed to go anywhere, either, when I’m not at Secondus.”
She drew in a sharp breath, as if understanding how severe such punitive action was. She put her arms around him and squeezed, and he held her close, feeling a little better.
“Can you have company over?” she asked. “Studying in groups is quite common.”
He knew what she was about – keeping him entertained, using her Nil’Gu’ua where he could not.
“I – I don’t know,” he said, feeling appreciativeness toward her. “I’ve never needed to study in a group, before.”
“Who said anything about what you need?” she said, raising her vuu-brows. “You’re going to help us. With the new third-of-the-term coming up, I think I’m going to need a lot of help, especially the last part of the Long-Travel lecture, having missed most of it.”
“You can’t take the last portion of Long-Travel, not like that!” he said, staring at her. “You’ve missed the first two thirds of it! You’ll be completely lost!”
“Then I guess you had better convince your parents to let me come and study with you,” she said archly.
He continued to stare at her. Conflicting emotions warred within him. Concern for her lecture-marks. An insane hope that he would be able to spend his lonely turns with her. Trepidation, and not a little fear of confronting his parents. Then he laughed, and held her close again. The hope had won out. “You’re wonderful, did I ever tell you that?”
“No, not lately,” she murmured, lifting her face. “You can thank me – you know how.”
He obliged, raising her up to kiss her long and longingly.
Whorl Sixty One
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv took a deep breath, firmed his resolve. It had been a five-turn since Pavtala Ralili’Bax had brought up the notion of having his friends over to study. He had spoken minimally to his parents since they had meted out his punishment, however, still angry over being punished for what he felt was an unjust reason. Several unjust reasons. He had eaten with them, perforce, because he was not allowed to conjure his own food, but he had been taciturn, and they had not pressed him to talk, engaging in little conversation themselves around him. Sometimes platters had just been left for him, so that he did not have to sit silently and moodily with them. They had taken his silence and brooding with equanimity, and had not scolded him or forced him to be more sociable.
Now he entered the salon where they both sat, deep in the toils of their official duties. They looked up at his entrance, their faces serenely expectant. He stopped several paces away, not knowing how to approach them. He had not been exactly rude, but they definitely knew that he was put out with what had transpired. He looked up at them with quick glances, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Pavtala Ralili’Bax coming over to study. They waited him out.
“Mother... Father...” he began, rubbing one palm with the thumb of the other hand.
“What is it, Pa-Kreceno’Tiv?” Vespa Kareni’Tiv asked, her voice neutral. His heart sank. She had used his name formally, which was never a good sign. He looked up at them, but could read nothing from their expressions.
“I have a friend who – wants to include me in a group for study,” he made himself say. “They – are willing to come here, so that I don’t contravene my punishment.”
They said nothing, as if expecting more.
“I came to ask for permission,” he said, feeling that he was being forced to be explicit. “May some of my lecture-mates come over to study? They – they want my help.”
“Yes,” Vespa Kareni’Tiv said, looking back down at her work. Vespar-Drelano’Sev’Tiv quirked one side of his mouth, then looked down at his own work, also.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. His mother waved noncommittally, and he retreated, gratefully, to his room. Now, he could not wait for the last third of the term to begin.
Whorl Sixty Two
Pavtala Ralili’Bax actually began coming over during the term-break, to begin getting conversant in the first and second parts of the Long-Travel lecture. She was a welcome diversion to the sameness of being stuck at home, though he tried not to think of her that way. Ro-Becilo’Ran came over also, also under the excuse of Secondus lecture work, so that he was not completely lost in the ennui and despair.
But Pavtala Ralili’Bax was there much more often. She brought scaled-down veiwies of some of her mother’s explorations, and they watched, snuggled with each other on his lounge. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s parents never came to check on them, knowing that he would not try to fully mate with anyone, not while they were there. His near-mating with Polista Zyledi’Kil notwithstanding, he knew he was not ready for that, split elytra-pace or no – though there was no real stigma against mating before the end of Secondus, save parental approbation. But Polista Zyledi’Kil’s parents, so strict, had been ready to let their daughter mate too early, probably even urged her to it. He had met Pavtala Ralili’Bax’s parents, and they had not had the aura of desperation that Polista Zyledi’Kil’s had had.
So he and Pavtala Ralili’Bax only spent part of the time actually studying, and the rest of their time together finding things that kept him entertained, that he did not have to use his Nil’Gu’ua for. She had gotten a hold of the library of apparel glyphs, and kept him laughing with an impromptu vogue pageant. When Ro-Becilo’Ran and Ropali Galici’Bel heard of it, they joined in, playing roles depending on the time-period the apparel was from, and re-enacting dialogue from old entertainments of the chosen era. Pavtala Ralili’Bax laughingly made imagings of their antics, including her own, and posted them on the dataSphere interlinks, where they acquired a following. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv made his contribution by providing sound effects that made the others choke on their lines.
Other times they played glyph-games, trying to come up with the most bizarre idea they could think of, then generate the glyph for it. Pa-Kreceno’Tiv, prohibited from participating, was the officiating judge, either endorsing or panning the glyph-creation. None of them attempted to Nil-ize the glyphs they conjured, out of deference to him.
All the while, the problem of the OSI preyed on the back-end of his thoughts, and while his friends indeed diverted him when they were there, in his alone time he had nothing to do but think and worry in the darkness of his suite and his own mind.
The end of this punishment can’t come fast enough, he thought, dourly, for he could not get to his data-skimming on the interlinks, where he was sure that those denizens he had reached with his discussion posts felt he had abandoned them. He still had not thought up any kind of solution, but at least he could let them know that he was still there, and was still concerned over those had been and those who would be affected by the OSI.
And – I hate being idle, he admitted to himself.
Whorl Sixty Three
Pavtala Ralili’Bax took a seat next to him in their new lecture, flashing him a smile as the Proctor walked in. They were finally back at Secondus, and he was able to use his Nil’Gu’ua for limited things. Pavtala Ralili’Bax would also be coming over to his domicive after each turn at Secondus, to study with him, so he could keep his mind off of his tribulations.
“This is intermediate World-Tree lecture,” the Proctor said, “and I am Ropalir Fer’Tus. One of the most important features of our ecology, of course, is the World-Tree.” Proctor Ropalir Fer’Tus showed an image of the World-Tree in which
they currently resided. “It is at the crux of our own development, as a species as well as a society. Some believe that without the World-Tree, we would never have risen to sentience. These images, if you are interested in knowing, were provided by the Ministry of Preservation.
“Though not unique in the Totality, the World-Trees, and their analogs on other worlds, are ecological rarities. There are not many ecosystems that can sustain even one organism as large as one World-Tree, much less six. No one knows why Gu’Anin, and our first colony world, Gu’Ushad, are able to support World-Trees, though there are theories. We will discuss those theories at a later time. Right now, we will talk about the major levels of our current World-Tree, Anin’Ma. Anin’Ma is believed to be the oldest of the World-Trees, the first. Its age is thought to be approximately six hundred million orbises. We will be studying the levels in detail, from the Crown to the Roots, and following an imaging tour of all the structures in between.”
Pavtala Ralili’Bax threw him a knowing, glinting, smiling glance, and he flicked a vuu’erio tennae at her in amusement.
Whorl Sixty Four
Pavtala Ralili’Bax reclined on his rest-pad, his dataSphere open above her. He worked on the assignment as she scrolled through the interlinked dataSpheres. She had been studying his notes from the previous two third-terms, and was taking a break before she looked at the new assignment herself.
“People are wondering where the Alighter has gone,” she said, glancing up at him. He had finally asked her to do a search for comments on the Alighter, and she had given him an enigmatic look and then agreed.
He looked up, feeling a tightness in his chest.
“What do they say?” he asked with trepidation.
Raising a vuu-brow, she turned her eyes back to the Sphere of information glyphs moving in complicated patterns before her. “They are saying that – that the person behind the Alighter has been taken, that the voice of the Alighter has been vanished,” she said. “There had been outcry all over the Spheres, calling for investigations into the disappearance of the Alighter, the Rallier of the Spheres, and many are speaking of resistance to the Occupation and Service Initiative. They are saying that anyone who speaks out against the OSI is being silenced, that anyone who speaks in support of the public’s rights is being taken. They are angry about the Alighter’s absence.”
He sat back, stunned. His absence was stirring up the Spheres? He had been tearing himself up, trying to figure out how to take action against the OSI, and his non-action was doing just that?
It can’t be, he marveled, wanting to take the view-glyphographic from her, but resisting. Have I done enough? I can’t believe that. But he could do nothing, either way, and he let his mind rest on the issue.
Pavtala Ralili’Bax smiled and shut down the view-glyphographic, stretching. His attention, beyond his will to control, swiveled to her lithe form, taking in the graceful movements.
She turned onto her stomach and laid her head on his rest cushion, looking at him enigmatically. Her wing-nets, emergent since the break between third-terms, showed for a tantalizing moment. He got up and went to her, knelt by the rest-pad. She turned again, so that she could slide her arms around his neck when he embraced her. She pressed up into his kiss, cleaving to him longingly, and he got the impression that she wanted to deepen their pre-mating to something more, something permanent. But it was just an impression – she did not put out the actually mating-glome, that would deepen his compatibility for her.
“By the Hives, I wish I could make you mine,” she breathed, licking her lips, which shone from their kisses.
“If you want me to be yours, I will be,” he murmured, shivering with contained desire, contravening all his self-protestations of not being ready to fully mate. He did not know what had changed, but something had. Maybe it was because she really appreciated him for more than his looks and his famiya’s prestige. Maybe it was because she had been a real friend when he had needed one, without putting pressure on him to pre-mate, and that had happened naturally. Maybe it was because she had spent so much time with him, especially since his restrictions, and that she had done so much to keep him from succumbing to the despair. Maybe it was just because she was lovable, and he was falling deeply in love with her. “I want to be. Make me yours.”
She looked up into his eyes, and her eyes changed color, darkening for an instant, then cooling again. Something held her back, and he wondered, feeling a little frustration, whether it really was because she would not be going to Tertius, or if there was something more, something she was not telling him. But he could not force a mating, if she were not willing. Or he could, he could consciously make himself match her, though it would be very difficult, and he could mate with her, but it would not be enjoyable for either of them.
Regret splashed across her face, and she sat up and held him, as if she were on the verge of tears.
“Let us see what the end of the term brings,” he said, stroking her hair. She gestured assent, but there was no conviction in it. With a feeling of requited but unfulfilled longing, he got up and got back to their assignment, though he no longer had the mood to do it.
Whorl Sixty Five
“I don’t – I just can’t remember!” Ro-Becilo’Ran groused, dropping his view-glyphographic in frustration. “I mean, in truth, seven hundred worlds in the Orm Arm of our Star Whorl? Who can remember that many?”
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv sighed. It had always been thus with Ro-Becilo’Ran, more complaining than actual studying. He had tried to share his way of remembering lists of things with Ro-Becilo’Ran, but his friend remained recalcitrant, preferring bemoaning the assignment to actually trying to learn the material.
“Becil, just use the way that Kreceno’Tiv gave you, and try!” Ropali Galici’Bel ordered sternly, exasperated.
“My brain just doesn’t work that way,” he grumped. “Why can’t I just do it my way?”
“Because your way isn’t working,” Pa-Kreceno’Tiv pointed out, yet again.
“It’s an idiotic assignment!” he expulsed, “and I don’t see why we have to do it! We’ll always have access to the Spheres, so why waste time learning all these worlds by memory?”
“Well, we’ve got them memorized,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said in a matter-of-fact tone. She lay on Pa-Kreceno’Tiv’s rest-pad again, and was using his dataSphere. “We will get our passing marks, right Krece? What’s the next subject?”
“No, don’t go to the next thing without me!” he said, sitting down and looking at the long list of worlds. He began mumbling to himself, forcing his recalcitrant brain to absorb the knowledge.
“Oh ha,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, sitting up. “They are going to institute the OSI here in An’Siija, starting in two turns!”
Pa-Kreceno’Tiv jumped up and went over to her, began digging into the dataSpheres, flouting his punishment and not caring, for the moment. He had not been able to contribute to the discussions for nearly a quarter of the term. There had been questions as to whether he had vanished, along with others who had not communicated because of the depredations of the OSI. He had decided to let it rest, hoping that the action he had instigated had been enough. But now...!
:Too Much!
:They are coming HERE? They are coming to try to take us away from our homes?! Who are they, that they think they can do this? Who are we, that we are to be told what to do and when, and we just do it? They are not Malkia, and we are not mfanya, we are free citizens of Gu’Anin, with rights and Nil’Gu’ua and the will to dictate our own fates! We have strength, and numbers, let us use it! We chose the members of the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council by consensus, let us UN-chose them, and put Counselors in place who will not go against our will and wishes!
Another.
:Where is the Voice?
:The Alighter has vanished! I once spoke out against the Alighter, thinking him or her a Dabbler, a Sifter. But the Alighter was one of the few to openly challenge the OSI, and I scoffed, I turned away to my
Burrowing in the Spheres.
:But... I was wrong! All of those who have spoken out about the OSI, all who have dared raise a voice are gone, vanished! Does the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council think that we would not notice? Do they think that we will turn a blitzed-vuu to the vanishing of those who disagree with their latest attempt to regain control over us? They were right, we would have, if not for the Alighter! I would not have taken notice, if not for the Alighter! We do not use names, in the Spheres, we use aliases, but while they usually protect us, now they just help to hide the actions and predations of the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council! So, I am Gotra Silani’Vel, and if you do not hear from me next turn, it is because the numb-paces of the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council have come for me, so come and find me!
And another.
:Unite!
:They can’t do this to us! This is OUR world, this is our home! They have not given reason, they have not asked permission, they can’t do this! Only the Alighter saw this coming, and tried to warn us, and we did nothing! Let us band together, and find the Alighter! Let us bring her home!
I need to do something, he thought, though the notion of further contravening his parents’ dictates filled him with dread. But as he read on, it was clear that his absence continued to spark more conversation and questions and enmity for the OSI than had his continued presence. And the sudden announcement that the Initiative would be put into effect in the Capital Mji’Hive had fomented that enmity into real, unifying protest, though just in the Spheres.
But, despite that, despite the obvious, public outcry on the interlinks, the Gu’Anin Magistrate Council had gone ahead with implementing the OSI. But would that protest go from virtual to actual? There was a big air-gulf of difference between angry words in the Spheres, and action in the real world.