Mating Flight

by Mating Flight (lit)

  When Deveria left, Sheleigh sighed. She needed just a moment by herself before she joined the others. When would she and Kleet share a time without grief? They'd been through months of tumultuous events, months and events that had placed them on opposite sides. She wanted to stand on the same side as him, like they'd done when they were first married.

  She gave herself a few precious minutes and then she went to help her friends pack.

  While she was packing Marne's office, Dr. Barazi came inside and closed the door.

  "You'll make the guards antsy, Dr. Barazi."

  "I need to speak to you privately." He held out his hand with something in it and she took it. It was the more powerful hand-held com unit from the space shuttle. She looked questioningly at him.

  "I don't want you completely alone down here. I want you to be able to call for help, if you need it. And I want you to be able to communicate with USP if and when the Avatier changes his mind."

  Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Amin, it's exactly what I needed."

  "I thought it might be. Are you sure about what you're doing, Sheleigh?"

  "Yes. He's my husband."

  "Then I wish you the best."

  "Thank you. There's one more thing. You'll need to report Deveria's actions to USP. I want to add my own recommendation that she be restricted from interaction with other species until she can prove indisputably that she understands not to interfere. Some of her behavior can be blamed on youth, but some of it can't be. Right now she's almost as bad as a xenophobe would be. Avera's history made her actions even more destructive."

  "I'll take care of it. She won't be allowed to make mistakes like these again."

  "Good." Although it was too late for Kelfer, hopefully it wasn't too late for Avera.

  * * * *

  Sheleigh stood next to Kleet and watched the shuttle door close. "It's a mistake sending them away. We need USP now more than ever."

  "We need to find the radicals and conspirators and eliminate them. We've made a start today."

  "Not everyone on that shuttle is guilty."

  "Your species is easily swayed by the lies of dissidents. I can't risk another human becoming aligned with the radicals. Besides, the man who saved your life needs medical care. It's best that he receive it from his own doctors."

  "USP has non-human species."

  "No more strangers."

  The shuttle thrusters fired. She took an involuntary step forward.

  "You don't have to stay, Shel."

  "Shut up," she whispered around her tightening throat. She was losing control of her emotions, feeling a deep homesickness, feeling anxiety about staying. She felt like a child having her first sleepover. It was like her parents were in the shuttle and were leaving her here. The shuttle lifted. Her eyes welled. It rose smoothly into the air. Her eyes overflowed. She watched it rise quickly into the sky and her heart soared with it for a few minutes.

  A hand slipped into hers and she gripped it fiercely. More tears fell. She lifted her free hand to shield her eyes from the Averan sun. She watched until the shuttle was a blip in the sky, and then it winked out as it left Avera's atmosphere. She sent a silent good-bye to them.

  "You could have gone with them."

  "No, I couldn't. My life is with you."

  He tugged on her hand and she walked with him to their transport.

  "Shel...may I come to your bed tonight?"

  She inhaled, looking around at Avera. Her home. "Yes. You can have me now if you want. I need it."

  "I need more than a fast mating. I have much to do in council today. Can you wait until tonight?"

  She tugged him to a stop. He raised an eyebrow quizzically. Other than that eyebrow, his face was still closed and cold. "Is tonight a reward for staying with you?"

  "No. Too many bad things have happened lately. I need the comfort only you can give."

  "How long will it be until you need me again? Days, weeks, months? I don't want to live like that."

  He looked up at the sky, perhaps to where the shuttle had disappeared. "You can move back into my room."

  "And?" Her heart thudded.

  "We'll see how it goes."

  It was progress at least. She walked with him to the transport and went back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Three days later the arrests began. The conspiracy at first seemed to be small and centered in the young, lower income non-wingeds. Sheleigh sat in the council hall and typed notes into her computer as each trial was held. Those people directly linked to the death of the old Avatier and his guards were sentenced to death. There were six of those, including Sipos Pallas.

  When Sheleigh saw him in the council hall she was shocked at his appearance. His face was bruised and swollen. It was now obvious to her how the other conspirators were named. Getting those names was necessary, but she swallowed bile when she thought about how it had been accomplished. She wondered if Kleet had taken a swing or two at Sipos. Her stomach lurched at that thought and she feared she might be ill. But she breathed through her nose and forced herself to sit through his trial and sentencing. When it was her turn to testify against him, he looked at her with burning hatred, and she knew he was irredeemable. He was more dangerous now that he was thwarted. If he ever got loose, the body count would probably surpass that of the Malchovist attack.

  Sipos was the most fanatical of the group, but the other five principals shared a hatred of the Averan power structure and upper class. They all told a similar story of feeling shunned. Others treated them as though they were defective. Opportunities were denied them. They felt discriminated against. Women did not consider them mate material.

  She tried not to let their stories of prejudice affect her, because that was no justification for murder. Besides, she'd met other non-wingeds who didn't feel as these radicals did. She'd interviewed their non-winged guard and found that he was happily mated with two small children. He liked being a guard for the Avatier. He said he felt people looked up to him for protecting the Avatier.

  She knew prejudice against non-wingeds existed on Avera. Even Kleet was guilty of it. And given sufficient practice of prejudice, it wasn't unusual for the young people to say, "Enough!" and rebel. The practice of prejudice had to stop. But it was tied in to their practice of isolationism. And that had to stop too. When Averans got used to being a part of the non-winged species of USP, they would accept their own non-winged people.

  This rebellion might be halted, but in the natural course of cultural evolution, another would rear its head. Averans didn't have the luxury to wait until they felt safe enough to join USP. The time was right, even though they weren't ready. The population was aware of non-winged unrest. The testimonies about prejudice had been heard by the law-making body. USP was aware of Avera. The Avatier was flightless and the Avatier's mate was non-winged. That cretin Sipos had been right about these last two things. There would never be a better time to join USP than now. But how could she convince the council when she couldn't convince her own husband?

  After the six fanatical leaders were sentenced to be executed, the trials of their followers began. They, too, had felt prejudice, but not to the extent their leaders had. Mostly they just wanted equality. Sheleigh could barely remain seated as they testified. As a USP citizen she'd been taught her rights and learned about equality since she was a little girl. These people wanted what she'd been granted from the cradle. Averans were decent, caring people. Why couldn't they see that how they were treating their own was wrong?

  Over and over during the testimonies her heart and soul cried out for justice. She ceased taking notes because her fingers were gripped together to prevent her outcry. It wasn't her human sentimentality at work, as Kleet might accuse. It was human dignity and USP ideals at work. This was what USP wanted to eradicate!

  Finally she couldn't listen to any more and she left the council hall in the middle of an interrogation. There was an abrupt cessation of noise as she moved, and she saw Kl
eet look her way, but she didn't stop. She allowed the hall door to slam and got a small satisfaction from that. She paced the corridor down to her office, then back to the assembly hall and back again. "What can I do?" canted in her mind as she paced. "I have to do something!" was the descant.

  She noticed Harrier standing quietly in the doorway to their office, watching her pace. He seemed to be waiting for something. On her third pass she lifted an eyebrow to him in invitation.

  "We need to change."

  She stopped in front of him. "In what way?"

  "You know what way, my lady. Arresting the radicals won't stop people from wanting change. You can't stop thought. Even when you kill the thinker, the thought is born in someone else."

  "You're not non-winged!" she breathed.

  "More than the non-winged want change."

  She stared at him. He wasn't a fanatic. He was wealthy, educated, open minded ... he was open minded. She kicked herself mentally. She was as bad as Deveria in divulging information about USP ideals. And this man understood fully what she was saying. This man had volunteered to be the liaison to strangers. He had motive, opportunity ... someone had written the note. No, her heart cried, not him! But her mind had to know the truth.

  "Kelfer was your friend."

  "Yes, but he couldn't change. And we have to change. At some point the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. I'm a student of history and culture, like you. I can see where the unrest is leading. There will be war on Avera, bloody and destructive. We'll lose people and material possessions, maybe industry and agriculture, whole crops and flocks, maybe resources. And we'll lose a society too fragile to survive a war.

  "I know what happened the day of the massacre all those years ago. Averan society almost collapsed, and that was with the loss of only two thousand people. In a war with explosives, more people than that would die. Many more. Without intervention, we'll have that war. I might be dead before it begins, but it's coming. We need change to prevent it. I think you know that."

  She was still reeling from his betrayal. She had trouble catching her breath. She knew her face had lost all color. "Not like this! Not by sacrificing Kelfer!"

  "The needs of the many. I expect to be punished for my part. I'll be named any day now. I don't expect my death to be pleasant, nor do I expect any joy in the afterlife. I'll have my say at my trial and hope I can convince the council that change is mandatory. Because if I can't, and if change doesn't begin soon, this may be the best Averan society ever is. If we don't change, our days are numbered. If I fail, we'll face extinction one day. Do you understand, my lady?"

  Her breath whooshed out of her. This man felt he carried a huge burden on his shoulders, the burden of a future which might never be. His version might never happen. But his version might happen, and then there would be no future for Avera. No future for her children, or for her children's children.

  "Sacrificing Kelfer wasn't the way."

  "We have to change. I don't have the knowledge you have about how other species have changed. You can see some of what I see, yet you do nothing. You're clearly agitated about the trials, but you do nothing. Your children will be born into this world soon, will in fact be Averans. If you care nothing for the rest of us, will you at least do something for your own children?"

  She rocked back on her feet at his thought echoing her own. "I don't approve of killing people to effect change." His face fell and all his years of living showed in the lines on his face. "I won't turn you in because you say someone else will. I need time." His face was hopeful suddenly. "I won't save you, but maybe I can save Avera."

  "My lady ..."

  "Please don't speak to me any more. I loved Kelfer. My mate loved Kelfer. What you did is unpardonable."

  "Yes, my lady."

  * * * *

  That evening Kleet demanded to know why she'd left the council hall. He accused her of allowing her human feelings to sympathize with the radicals. The argument became heated and shouting ensued. Lefair fled the room. Their passionate argument because a violently passionate possession.

  Afterwards Sheleigh lay beneath Kleet on the rug, aching in numerous places, too weak to move. But her mind could think, and she realized two things. First, she would find it easier to convince the council than to convince Kleet. It was too soon after his father's death for him to listen to reason. And second, as they'd flown the mating flight in her mind, she'd seen the desolate wasteland beneath her of a post-apocalypse Avera. She was convinced it was a prophetic vision.

  * * * *

  Two days later the guards arrested Harrier. Sheleigh stood silently as he was bound and taken away. He offered no resistance. Kleet watched coldly from the doorway, his stony face giving nothing away of how he felt towards this latest betrayal. She saw how hard he clenched his jaw and knew he must be suffering badly. She went to him and placed her hand in his. As the guards moved Harrier down the hall, Kleet turned his laser gaze on her. It was sharp like his father's, at last.

  "You don't seem surprised," he gritted.

  "He admitted his guilt to me two days ago."

  "And you did nothing?" His face was suffused with rage and his fists clenched.

  "He said his name would be revealed, and it was. He said he'd be arrested, and he was. Did two days difference matter?"

  "He could have been planning further betrayals!"

  "He was putting his affairs in order. He doesn't expect to survive this."

  Kleet reared back as though struck, and his face paled. "He killed my father?"

  "I believe he wrote the note. He didn't tell me exactly what he'd done."

  "He was my father's friend!"

  She touched his arm, and he jerked away from her. She stepped closer and touched him again. This time he didn't pull away. He looked down at her and his eyes were full of pain and accusation. "Betrayals everywhere."

  "Not from me," she said quietly. "Harrier wanted his punishment. He just wanted me to know in advance."

  "Why? Because of your human sentimentality?"

  "No. Because I'm an anthropologist."

  He stared at her, confusion clear on his face, and she could see him trying to figure out the connection. She offered him enlightenment.

  "In my head and in my computer I have recorded histories of thousands of societies. In any given situation I can guess at the future outcome. I can tell you which societies failed and why..."

  "Our society won't fail."

  "I can tell you why races died out ..."

  "We're thriving."

  "I can tell you where the leaders of failed societies made their biggest mistakes."

  He pulled away from her. "I don't have to listen to this."

  She was disappointed, but she let him go. He wasn't ready yet.

  "Are you coming into the council hall today?"

  "No, I have work to do." He gave her a sharp look, probably wondering what kind of work. He nodded and walked away.

  She retuned to her computer, but didn't restart her research. Every night since her talk with Harrier she'd been haunted by visions of Avera after a nuclear war. She saw it during her mating flights with Kleet and she dreamed of it during the night. She was amazed that Kleet couldn't see it too, it was so starkly real. Maybe he didn't want to see it.

  She was so tired. She'd had the nightmare three times last night. Each time she woke gasping and sweating, hoping it wouldn't return when she fell asleep again. It was a dream of complete hopelessness, of no life of any kind. It was a dream of the end, and a look at the aftermath of the end. It was horrible and sad and frightening.

  It called her to action. It begged her to intercede. It demanded her attention. It cried out for help. She had to save these people! Harrier had plopped this dying child in her lap and she had to resuscitate it and save it. Before it was her own children dying. She turned on her computer and dug deep into its memory.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sheleigh sat in the gallery on the day Harrier wa
s tried for his crime. She knew she looked haggard from lack of sleep. She'd had the apocalypse dream every night for a week and had begun to dread the night. Some of the council members looked haggard as well. It must be disturbing for them to try friends and neighbors for heinous crimes.

  She listened as Harrier admitted his part in the conspiracy. He described being approached by the radicals and writing the note that drew Kelfer to his death. The hall echoed with murmurs of disbelief and anger, of accusation and dismay. Then someone asked him why he'd done it. As Harrier explained his fears in horrifyingly gripping detail, the hall grew silent. There were bursts of denial quickly silenced. Heads shook while other members clutched their heads between their hands. Kleet gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

  At the end of his explanation, Kleet spoke up. "So you helped lure your friend to his death to prevent a future that might never be?" His tone was disbelieving.

  But instead of answering Kleet, Harrier looked straight at her. "My lady?" Somehow his action didn't surprise her.

  She pulled her clenched hands apart and rose to her feet. The council members turned shocked and stunned faces to her. She didn't look at Kleet because the council was who she needed to convince.

  "I've been many places and seen many things. I've heard many things. I know many things. I study societies and people and species, as I've studied Averans these past months. Despite what you think, Averans are more like the other species of the universe than you know. Many species are alike in ways. Many societies are alike in ways. Many histories are alike.

  "The tale Harrier tells has been told before, more than once. It's been told by the cold evidence and records left after planet-wide war left no survivors to tell the tale. It's been told by survivors who wished they'd perished with the rest of their kind. It's been told by neighboring countries who watched their neighbor tear itself apart while they accepted refugees fleeing the destruction.

  "The tale's been told by dead bodies too numerous to burn or bury. It's been told by planet-wide wastelands, by mutilated survivors, by grieving widows, childless parents and orphans. By water too foul to drink, by air too clogged with dust and burning ash to breathe, by land too scorched to grow crops, by herds decimated.