by TylerRose.
She chose to be patient. Within another week, she was given her own quarters. She spent hours at a time in the communal lounges, learning to play a Drakkorian version of chess. The pieces were different and they moved differently, but the strategy was enough the same.
She passed day after day learning skills with Vanja, torn between staying and going. If she stayed, she would have to have the baby. She deluded herself that she had as much time to decide as she wanted.
Then one day she undressed to shower and caught sight of herself in the full length mirror on the other side of the bathroom door. Her areola were significantly darker and she had a small distension in her belly.
She was showing. Not enough that anyone else would know, but still. Her bump filled her palm and she remembered the first time she’d shown Shestna her bump. He had been so overjoyed. She could still feel the warmth and pressure of his palm against her belly. Rising grief, squashed in the next second. The first step to getting rid of the emotion was controlling it.
She took her shower. Rather than going to the lounge, she went to the temple and sat for a while in solitude and silence. She’d come to realize she needed to expel a whole host of emotions. Fear, self-doubt, grief, regret, guilt. A goddess should not have any of those emotions. Should fear nothing. Should not ever doubt herself and her own abilities. Should not grieve for anyone. Should regret nothing, feel guilt over no decision or action. So long as she was on the side of right, there was nothing to fear, not thing to regret, nothing to be guilty over.
Then she felt it. A familiar fluttering in her belly. The baby had moved enough for her to feel.
Her first instinct weeks ago had been to get the thing out of her body. Now she was wavering. She still had time, but wondered if the best revenge on Solomon would be to have a healthy child and give it to someone who could provide a most fruitful life.
Not that it would really matter. Once she went back in time and started changing things, the child would never be born.
She let days turn into weeks, and when the boy started to be curious about the sounds he heard, she started to show him images of people and things. She continued her psionic exercises, performed solo Orani routines to keep herself limber, and went through one form after another of the Tai Chi Chen had shown her.
Her belly grew. Her appetite grew. Her patience grew short.
Sitting alone in her favorite of the two communal lounges, she looked out into space, feeling to the farthest reaches and sensing where people lived and where they did not. The tightening across her belly shifted to become a hard pain in her lower back. Enough of a pain that it thrust her out of the chair.
[Vanja.]
[Yes, Tyler] he replied from his post on the Bridge.
[Tell the Captain I think we should go to Drakkar now.]
[Now?] he echoed.
[I’ll be in medical.]
A long walk that was, having to stop every time her back seized up with pain. Vanja and the Captain found her in the corridor and helped her walk the last twenty yards.
[The pain is all in my back] she told the doctor.
He administered something that moved the contractions to the front, where they belonged, and started her cervix opening properly. A second medication took most of the pain away as well, letting her focus on the baby and pushing when needed. She felt his face slowly scrape along her pelvic bone as his head came out. Then the slip and rush of his little body following.
[He’s a boy!] the doctor announced, and laid the screaming infant on her belly and chest.
He remained there a full minute, staring at her while she stared at him. She would remember the shape of his eyes, the shape of his nose, his light brown fringe of hair. How warm he felt on her.
[Know me] she impressed on his memory, as she had done with all the love she could muster over the months since their first interaction. This time she did so with the only kiss from her that he would ever know.
The cord was tired off and cut and he was taken to the washing station for his first bath and diaper. An assistant cleaned her up. Finished, he turned his back to get a fresh robe for her. When he returned, she was gone.
Vanja went to her quarters. She wasn’t there and her suitcase and messenger bag were gone. She had left the ship.
Chapter Nineteen
Tyler appeared in Gramma Addie’s bedroom, now hers. Exhausted from the birth, she immediately climbed onto the bed and fell asleep. Zarabeth was surprised to see her come into the kitchen in the morning. Radames was happy, but saw that his niece had been changed by her time away.
“I don’t want to discuss it,” was all she said, and took her first cup of coffee in…forever…out the back door.
Rather than walk it, she teleported to the base of the tree, then up into the branch. For once, Radames did not follow. Her entire aura said keep away and he would respect that.
She wrote in her journals and ate her meals but spent almost no time with her family members. She remained largely secluded either in her room or up in the tree, sometimes in the old indigo processing barn. She vaguely remembered Solomon ripping the wedding beads off her that day. She brought one bead to her hands and made a ring out of it. She wore it and the blue ring on the same finger of her left hand. She also put on Gramma’s ring.
When she was healed enough from giving birth, about three weeks in total, she teleported to the nearest church of the Immaculate. The one Addie had first shown her.
She lit every candle. Arms over them, she soaked in their warmth. Taking a step back, she knelt on the floor.
[Julian.]
He appeared behind her. “Tyler! Thank the gods!”
In her posture, he could not readily hug her. She would not look at him. He sensed the profound change in her energy.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter. Have they rebuilt the Temple of the Immaculate on Ercoli?”
“Sort of. One of the other temples converted itself to that purpose. It’s there if you want it.”
“Solomon is not dead. He escaped an exploding ship. I’m going to do a few things and then I’m going to destroy him. Then we will go back and start to fix all this,” she informed him.
“You know I’m with you. Do you know about Dorn?” he asked.
“I know everything that happened. You can very quietly let Encito know you’ve seen me. Do not tell anyone where I am. Not even Pisod. I don’t want any guards. I don’t want anything except for this life to be over so we can restart it and get it right.”
“I understand. I have something for you.”
He placed a shopping bag next to her. “Music cds I thought you’d like. If you ever want it, you can have the spare room of my quarters on the Congressional station.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
“I hate to see you like this, Ty,” he said in his quietest, most sincere tone.
“Then you and others should have done more to teach me to use my own abilities rather than leaving me out in the wild to be eaten by the wolves.”
“You know he threatened me—“
Her hiss silenced him.
“I try very hard not to blame you,” she said, jaw tight in her rising anger. “But you contributed to the situations that came to be by not standing up to him and not standing up for me. We will work past it. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go back. We will keep these meetings to a minimum. Do not contact me unless I call to you.”
She picked up the bag and teleported back to the house to listen to the music he’d picked out for her. There were a few things in there she liked, including one by Seal called “Kiss from a Rose.” Within an hour of the first time she’d heard it, she was singing it with the words memorized.
Zarabeth silently fretted about the noise but said nothing. Her toddler seemed to sleep through it just fine. Radames brought a pot of tea and two cups.
“I thought we should talk,” he said when Tyler let him in.
“Not abo
ut where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing.”
“Okay, let’s talk about the music you’re listening to,” he tried again.
She showed him the short stack of cds, played a few songs for him.
“These songs speak to you?” he asked.
“Yes. Music speaks truths when everything around me is lies. It helps me know what to feel when I feel nothing,” she said.
“You don’t feel nothing right now, though, do you? You feel so much at once that you’re numb.”
She made no indication or reply.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Wildflower; but you are far too changed for much of it to have been happy. I’m sorry.”
“Why apologize for what is not your fault?” she questioned.
“Because that’s what humans do. We express our regrets for things that sadden us. You used to be so bright and sassy. Ready to take on the world. You used to share all the important things in your life with me. I can see how angry, defeated, and withdrawn you are now. I am very sorry for it.”
“I’m far from defeated, Radames,” she said. “I’m deciding which way to go next. Hate and anger may lead to the Dark Side in Star Wars movies, but I find they provide me with particularly strong clarity. It’s other emotions that muck things up. Grief holds me back. Anger drives me forward. So I will not acknowledge grief. Instead, I’ll ride my anger into the next life if I have to.”
“That is a frightening statement.”
“The ones who have done me wrong should be afraid,” she said. “When I’m ready, there will be no stopping me. I am beginning to understand who and what I am and what I’m to become.”
“The young lion learning its own strength?” he smiled.
“More like a dragon, but yes. I’ve learned a lot these last months, about myself and my own abilities. I’ve learned I can make impossible choices and live with them. I’ve learned what I can endure, mentally and physically. I know what I need to do. I just have to decide the order in which to go about it.”
“You need the quiet here?” he asked.
“I do. And the true gravity time. I’ve been on one ship or another for a long time. What’s the date? I’ve lost track.”
“Today is March 16th, 1997.”
“I’m going to go to the mall for a while. I need new clothes,” she said.
“Want me to go with you?” he asked.
“No. I need to go places by myself. I’ve had constant companions for too long. I need to be alone.”
Alone in the mall, alone in the middle of five hundred people. She sat alone to have a meal in a restaurant for the first time in so long that she couldn’t remember how long it had been. The food wasn’t important. That she was unaccompanied was. That she could choose everything was important. A poster advertising all three Star Wars movies in the theater was even more so. They’d been somewhat updated and rereleased into the theaters. She finished her meal and went to see the show times. Three different theaters, one after another. She bought a ticket for the 1pm Star Wars, the 3:30 pm Empire Strikes Back and the 6pm Return of the Jedi. She sat in remarkably silent theaters, the people around her oddly compelled to be still and not talk. No one sat in the seats immediately around her.
She was reminded that hate and anger should be used as tools, not allowed to completely consume her. She let them go for now, released them so she could think about her future rather than making Solomon pay.
When the marathon was over, she did not return to her own house. She teleported to a Kwoon in Toledo. Set up on the edge of the former refugee tent city in International Park, Chen had built the Shaolin Temple he’d always wanted to make. She went inside the main gate, to the steps that led to the inner door, and knelt there. No one had seen her. No one looked over the wall at her.
She remained all night, motionless in meditation, nearly out of body. The first class arrived, wondered at her as they walked by and went in. Grunts in the courtyard beyond as they had their lessons. They left. Three more classes came and went. She remained. The gate opened from the inside, his quiet calm stepping out to see her.
“Why do you not come in?” Chen asked.
“I have not been invited, Sifu,” she replied.
“I invite you, student.”
She rose to her feet and went inside. He showed her to a private room she could use, told her to come to his when she was ready. She needed only a few minutes to use a toilet and freshen up. They sat together to eat a meal, not speaking. Afterward, he took her through a mirror exercise, still not speaking. She absorbed whatever motions and knowledge he showed her, learning without being taught.
Unexpectedly, he stopped and held her hands in his.
“You are in great turmoil. I sense tremendous sadness and grief. Immense regret and anger.”
She made no reply, certainly wasn’t going to deny it.
“What is it you seek?” he asked.
She thought hard on the question. One word came to mind. “Peace. Of mind. Of body.”
“Will you trust me?”
“You are about the only person in the galaxy I trust right now. That’s why I’m here, Sifu.”
He took her to a small courtyard, had her remove her clothing and lie on her stomach on a padded bench. He pulled out a box of small needles. One after the other, he placed them along her energy meridians.
“I will not tell you to kill the grief in you, Tyler. Grieving means something was important to you. I will not tell you not to be angry at those who have hurt you since you’ve been gone. Anger is a normal and proper emotion. Tao is about balance. For every highest joy there is a deepest grief. For every love, there is furious ire. Knowing one helps us to better understand the other. We are all of these things all of our lives. I see the darkness of your areola. I know you have given birth very recently. We will not engage in hard exercise until you are physically capable; but you are welcome to remain here in seclusion for as long as you wish. I will not keep track of your comings and goings but I may ask you to perform tasks for the upkeep of the Kwoon. Your job is to heal yourself, inside and out. I will do what I can to assist you.”
“I want to learn chi kung,” she said, hazy and relaxed into the intense endorphin high he was creating in her. “I want to learn the techniques for use with my psychokinesis.”
“We will begin tomorrow.”
“Day after,” she said. “I have something I need to do tomorrow.”
He agreed and they were silent for a time. In all, he had placed some 200 needles onto her backside from neck and ears down to the bottoms of her feet. She had a tremendously strong chi, powerful and almost entirely untrained. It resisted his efforts and needed to be coaxed along gently to release itself into his care. He spent the next half hour twisting needles here and there. She released a tremendous breath and her arms slackened. She was asleep. He left the needles another five minutes before beginning to remove them.
Taken to his autoclave to sterilize, he returned to sit on the companion bench in meditation. She would not wake for hours. He would be here when she did, and would help her back to her room if she needed help. His next class was in the evening and he had her moved shortly before it. A light massage over tension spots soothed her back into her slumber and he left her be until morning.
She swept the Kwoon floor before getting dressed and going on her self-imposed errand.
Holding the memory of her garden, she teleported herself there. Knowing she didn’t have to contact anyone, she stood at the odd flower she’d found so long ago. It was a Psala, yellow, with a fragrance so sweet it created a new memory sensation in her brain. She waited, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
“Tyler! Thank the Nareeva! You’re well,” Pisod said coming up behind her.
“Well is a matter of perspective,” she said, and broke the shaft of the flower to remove the fluff ball from the top of the stalk.
Inhaling the fragrance again and again, she turned to look at him. He saw a darkness in her eyes tha
t had not been there before, the pain in her soul.
“What can I do for you, sister?” he asked.
She stepped toward him and put the yellow flower into his hands. “Give this to your father with my regards…And my forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness? For what?”
“He planted it. He’ll understand.”
She vanished and he returned to the palace. He took the blossom directly to his father in the large audience chamber, and waited while the Emperor finished smiling at his newest child. He saw the yellow flower in Pisod’s hand and gave the boy back to his mother. Gestured forward, Pisod moved in as close as he easily could and lowered to a knee to hold up the flower.
“She broke this off the stalk. It’s the only Psala in the entire garden. She said to give you her regards and her forgiveness. She said you will understand what she means.”
“I do,” Encito said, this gesture crushing him like none other. “Take this to the glass shop. Have them preserve it for me.”
All desire to be among family evaporating in that instant, Encito bid them continue while he retired to his apartment. He made one last will, naming one last heir, and silently made plans for his last days of life.
Her forgiveness, delivered with a yellow Psala he had personally planted, compounded the guilt he carried in his soul.
She teleported back to Earth, arriving in Northtowne Mall on Alexis, to the next showing of the Star Wars Trilogy. She paid particular attention to Luke’s training in Empire Strikes Back, imagined herself going into the tree. What would she take with her? Her thoughts lingered on the moment at which Darth Vader threw his own Master over the rail into the abyss of the second Death Star.
She was in danger of becoming that Emperor. That was her personal struggle. Right versus might. Over the following weeks, she returned to watch these movies every day that she could until they were gone. When they were released on video tape, she bought two copies of each. One set to make a copy of and watch until she wore them out and needed to make another copy, and one to put away for future use.