Only Human

by Chris Reher

  Too bad about Nova. Although merely Human, he had sensed a great strength there and he had not missed Tychon's attachment to her. Briefly, he wondered if the rebels, in their quest to rid themselves of her, would also harm Tychon, his kinsman. He pushed that thought aside, too. The high price paid seemed insignificant to the prize that was soon to be his.

  Upon Jelani's arrival on Shaddallam, Tharron had brought Jelani before him and, lavishly, offered him control of Delphi once the Tughan had driven the Union out of Trans-Targon.

  Jelani had not even expected this boon, so focused was he on the opportunity to meet the Tughan Wai. But Delphi was his birthright! A birthright stolen from him when Phera disowned him for offering Kiran to the Shantirate almost six years ago. Then, rubbing salt into Jelani's wounds, Phera had made Kiran his heir, binding him to Delphi's court lest he be tempted to leave the necessary protection of the Shantirate. It had been Phera's mistake to allow Tychon to take the child from Delphi.

  Jelani took a few steps into the room. “Kiran?"

  "Shan Jelani!" The child jumped up and raced toward his uncle. "Have you come to take me back to Feyd? Can we leave now?"

  His uncle awkwardly patted the boy's curls. "Not yet, Kiran. I don't have a plane to go that far, you see? Your father will come for you soon."

  "Yes, Shanee, Ema said you need an Eagle to come all that way. Only Dadda has an Eagle."

  How easy this deception was! Too young to understand space travel and well used to his father’s frequent absences, none of this seemed troublesome to the child. He had simply gotten lost and Tychon would soon come to take him home.

  "Indeed he does," Jelani said. He pulled up a chair. "He asked me to check up on you once in a while until he can get here." He held out a hand. "May I?"

  In answer, the boy stepped closer and Jelani touched his forehead.

  Tell me how you like it here. Are the people nice? he asked conversationally. Is that a midgie in that bottle?

  Kiran began to relate his feelings about Shaddallam, mentally prattling about his day, which revolved mostly around his nurse, Ema, and a few of the diminutive Shaddallama children still living in this town. Barely listening, Jelani closed his eyes and began to pry into Kiran's complex levels of consciousness.

  It was there!

  It was all there, as planned. Lying dormant within Kiran was the knowledge and the power to give life to the Tughan Wai. It was infinite in its possibilities, waiting only for the key to put it all together. Jelani sighed, tempted to search further.

  No! The khamal slammed shut, expelling Jelani with enough force to cause physical pain. His hands flew to his temples.

  "I'm sorry, Shanee!" Kiran cried. "I don't know why I did that. Did I hurt you?" The boy's lower lip trembled.

  Jelani blinked at him. "No, of course not.” He forced a wan smile. “You can go back to your midgie now. I will see you at breakfast.” He rose abruptly and staggered into the corridor, blindly feeling his way along the hall while a murderous pain in his head nearly brought him to his knees.

  Of course! Certain safeguards had been installed to protect the sleeping Tughan from hapless intruders. There was so much to learn! He found his way into the room where the K'lar giant awaited his analysis.

  "Well?" Tharron growled. He had been in an expansive, easy mood upon Jelani's arrival. Now his expression was sour. His fist, as usual, was curled around a bottle of vile-smelling liquid.

  In his excitement, the Shantir took no notice of his host's foul temper and did not notice that those who constantly hovered around the leader were now doing so at a safe distance. "It is he," Jelani proclaimed. "You have the Tughan Wai!"

  "Good," Tharron said. "Get to work, Shantir. I want the Union destroyed! You hear me, Shantir? Their very bones I want pulverized and scattered from one cursed end of this galaxy to another!" He took a deep draught from his flask.

  Jelani noticed the uncertain glances from Comori and the carefully subdued, amused expression on Pe Khoja's streamlined face. "Tharron…"

  "You will address me as 'My Lord' or you will see your precious Delphi burn!"

  Jelani looked for help to Comori who merely shrugged. "My Lord," he began again. "I must return to Delphi for more information. A little more study. I know where to find it."

  "Delays! You told me that you can do what must be done to release this Tughan. Are you saying that you are incapable of it?"

  "No, Lord, not at all. It is only a small matter without which I cannot proceed. I will be gone no more than a few days if I can prevail upon one of your pilots once again. Then the training may begin." Jelani did not dare tell Tharron that, although he would indeed return to Shaddallam within days, Kiran's conversion from child to Tughan could take months, perhaps years. He would find out soon enough. Jelani looked forward to the creation. Kiran would become his pupil, growing toward his future under the Shantir's careful supervision. Many Shantirs had been trained for this; only he, Jelani, would actually see the wonder unfold!

  Tharron regarded him with red-rimmed eyes. "Whatever. Be gone. But be certain, Shantir, that if you cross me, Delphi will burn. And it will not take the Tughan to destroy your pitiful cities!"

  "I guarantee that I will return quickly," Jelani said, honestly surprised that anyone would doubt his word. "Then we can go to work."

  Tharron grunted, staring out of a window overlooking the court yard as if to find something out there in the dark. "First among the dead," he said, "will be that woman. I will tear her limb from limb with my own hands!"

  "Nova?" Jelani said. "But she is dead!"

  The horrible noise issuing from their leader might have been laughter. "Through my fingers, once again! How many times has she escaped? How many of my best men has she destroyed?" Tharron shook his large head, slowly. "No more, Shantir, no more. No more sniping from the shadows. Next time she will be brought to me alive. It will be Tharron who will terminate her personally." He waved an arm in a broad gesture. "Comori! Comori will see to it that she does not die quickly."

  Chapter Eleven

  Dawn on Delphi was, at worst, inspirational. Each of the short seasons here, north of the richly forested equator, greeted the morning sun in a different, yet equally breathtaking way. Just now, Delphi's star began to tint the Chaliss'Ya mountain range pink, revealing the distant snow-covered peaks against a pale blue sky. Soon life-giving light descended onto the valley floor to blot out the morning mist with its warmth and energy. The brief dawn passed in minutes, turning night into day, illuminating the cool, moist richness of Delphi's Chaliss valley.

  On one of many balconies, Cylas stood motionless in the face of such beauty, all that made up his mind and body open to the sun, reaching out across the breathtaking vista. He wore only loose-fitting blue trousers to feel the delicious chill of the fresh new day. His heart was one with the flow of life. His mind was one with the tides of the universe. His body was one with the power of nature. He was happy.

  When the sun had climbed above Chaliss'ya's peaks and begun its journey to the opposite range, Cylas returned indoors, this morning's exercise complete, already anticipating tomorrow's. He slipped a tunic over his slight body, twisted his hair into a neat blue braid and left his rooms to begin his day's duties. The corridor was abuzz with blue-robed men and women, equally pleased by the blessing of the dawn. Their sun had been their first god; all of the Shantirs' bed chambers faced toward morning.

  There were forty Shantirs currently living in the sect's main enclave within the city of Chaib Psa. Here they taught promising acolytes and dispensed the mind-healing to a people that would never know a doctor or need a hospital. This house was neither church nor monastery. Religion had very little to do with the daily activities of the Shantirs. No prayers ever rang through these halls and abstinence among the Shantirs was rare and purely by choice. The sect had learned to conduct their public business amidst rites and mysterious symbolism simply because outsiders preferred to believe in a superior being than in a superior mind.


  He climbed a staircase to what was truly the think-tank of all of Delphi. A broad corridor led to Chaib Psa's wealthiest library. It contained ancient scrolls, skins and musty tomes doused liberally in preservatives, and archives dating back thousands of years. It was Cylas’ duty to preserve and maintain this collection, making some of the priceless items available as needed and to assemble lectures for the sect's teachers. But this was also the site of an electronic information storage system that contained more knowledge than could ever be shelved in a thousand of these rooms. Some of the secrets stored here were of such importance that they were shielded from any outside transmission.

  He opened the door to the library, ready to sift through the day's requests from teachers and scholars.

  "Holy Gods!" he exclaimed. "You gave me quite a start!"

  Someone was hunched over one of the access ports. He spun around when Cylas' words cut through the silent chamber.

  The librarian stepped into the room. "Shan Jelani, is it not?" He smiled and touched his palms together in greeting when he recognized the elder Delphian who was not only a seasoned Shantir but also of the house of Phera.

  "It is," Jelani replied crisply.

  Cylas saw another man to his right, bent over a display case. He was dressed in the long robe of an acolyte and had not as much as turned to see who had entered. A deep hood covered his face completely.

  The young Shantir approached Jelani. He had heard of this Shantir prince who traveled freely among Union stations on diplomatic missions. Could he be engaged in a conversation? Cylas yearned to learn about his work among the off-worlders. It was some moments before he saw where Jelani was standing.

  "Shan Jelani, that port is restricted! How did you obtain the access code? Have you made recordings? Who authorized this?" He stared in disbelief at the data on the screen. No one was permitted to access that information. The consent of three Shantirs and the Council was required before the file could be opened. It was quite possibly the most dangerous information stored in this room and no one, including Cylas, its keeper, had ever accessed it since it had been stored.

  It described the mental block that held back the Tughan Wai!

  Cylas staggered backward, his eyes full of fear and understanding. He groped for the door behind him, unable to force his voice to call out for help.

  Then a strong hand gripped his thin scholar's shoulder. A lightning bolt of pain shot into his back, finding his heart. He stared at the still immobile Shantir before him, knowing that he, Cylas, would be spared from ever knowing the ungodly terror that was Delphi's most ambitious creation. He died quickly.

  Jelani broke out of his trance and rushed to the lifeless librarian.

  "He won't need your help, Shantir," Pe Khoja said and threw his hood back. He inspected the long needle in his hand, still dripping a clear poison. Gingerly, he returned it into its sheath lashed to his forearm. "Did you get what you came for?"

  "You killed him!" Jelani accused.

  "I noticed." Pe Khoja stepped over the body to return to the display case. His expression had not changed. The yellow eyes remained flat and lifeless as he mused over a work of intricate poetry, his command of Delphi mainvoice flawless.

  "You're a monster!"

  Pe Khoja shifted to another scroll. "And you are a monster maker. Mind if I keep this?" The butt of his sidearm shattered the glass case. He brushed a few shards from the vellum and rolled it carefully. "Finish what you were doing."

  Jelani took a few minutes to bring himself under control. "Cha'hab' dai vyella'na, na vyella sar sari," he whispered, calming. "Monster maker?"

  Pe Khoja regarded him coldly. "Isn't that what you're doing? Do you think Lord Tharron is going to play Points with him? Discuss the meaning of life, maybe?"

  Jelani turned away to shut the access port down. "Meaning of life," he said bitterly. "What meaning does life hold for you?"

  The Caspian strode to a small door set unobtrusively between two of the far wall shelves. About as much it does Tharron, he thought, impatient to be gone from this sleepy little planet.

  Pe Khoja was a ruthless, cruel being with few emotions. His intelligence made him valuable, his absence of conscience or pity made him even more so. He knew that he was incapable of joy or pleasure and he struggled daily to keep his baser instincts in check. As a result, all he ever felt was a complete lack of satisfaction. Forever the outsider, he looked at this universe with detached interest, hoping for a glimpse at something larger.

  There had to be something larger. Pe Khoja needed more than this. Things might have been different for him had the Union discovered him before Tharron. But it had not and Pe Khoja had become a rebel, rising quickly through the ranks until he was indispensably installed in Tharron's inner circle. Neither side of this war interested him. He cared nothing for the Union's civilian activities or their control over most of Trans-Targon. Tharron had quickly ceased to awe him and the K'lar's cowardly rebellion against the Union was becoming tiresome.

  But he had his principles. As a rebel, he had funds and planes to travel where others could not go, see what others could not see. But he would remain a rebel because he would not, could not switch sides.

  The one thing he truly hated was a traitor. A traitor like Jelani. A quick stab in the back with a poison needle was too good for that one.

  Chapter Twelve

  Besides the battlefield on Bellac, this was likely the vilest-smelling place Nova had ever encountered. The stench permeated every part of the town that they had so far explored. Shad Lengh carved out a meager existence for itself in the tanning of hides into fine leathers that were then traded into parts of the planet that could afford to live without the stink of the factories. Nova herself owned several fine leather garments that originated in this vile pit. The thin veil now obscuring her face did nothing to keep the smell out of her nose.

  Nova threaded her way past long, low-roofed buildings that seemed to be no more than heaps of stones held together by mud or dung. Here and there stood a tent made of hides and, rarely, a wooden shack or two. Well-trodden, winding pathways connected the buildings. Although she had seen a skimmer in the distance, there was no room between the buildings for driving such a vehicle unless one parked above, jumped down onto a roof and slid from there to the ground.

  She had tried to converse with some of the natives she encountered but it seemed that only children were about and every time she hailed one, it quickly disappeared among the buildings. It was some time before the pathways widened and she emerged into an open area. In the center stood yet another stone building, this one at least four times as large, if not as high, as the others.

  Nova turned toward it, recognizing it as some sort of communal hall, perhaps even as whatever passed as the local seat of government. There was no door. She paced around the heap of stone twice before she realized that she was walking in circles. Confounded, she looked around the deserted square, wondering if she should find Tychon to help solve this mystery.

  Then she saw a sign attached to one of the ramshackle wooden buildings on the north side of the plaza. Then another, further down. There were large windows and merchandise set out for sale. Happily, she realized that she was able to read the signs. Strangers were not that uncommon here, after all.

  She entered a shop, pleased to note that here a more appetizing odor prevailed. She walked past rows of bins containing dried herbs, spices and roots, often needing to duck under items hanging from the low ceiling. A very short storekeeper resembled the ropes of shriveled fruit hung from the rafters.

  "Man," she addressed him, hoping that he was, indeed, a male of the species. "You own shop?"

  He studied her with eyes sunk deep in furrowed skin. "Yes, do you wish to make a purchase?" His command of the trade language she had chosen was by far better than hers.

  "Maybe." She held up a picture of a tree. The image had been recreated by Targon's technicians from the tape found on Tor Ag. She and Tychon had spent hours study
ing every second of the precious video fragment and had sent frames of it to various labs, careful to include no information that would alert an eavesdropping enemy. Planets whose weather conditions matched the images were shortlisted. So were atmospheric conditions that allowed Kiran to move about without any type of protective gear. Finally, the toddler in the image was identified as a Shaddallam native, close to Kiran's own age. An analysis of the vegetation in the image narrowed things down to Shaddallam's temperate northern hemisphere. Four of the Vanguard teams were immediately dispatched to begin the search.

  "I is botanist. Look for healing tree like so. Is here on Shaddallam. Where?"

  The proprietor reached for the picture with a multi-jointed arm. He chuckled. "Healing tree? I'd say you have strange ailments. There is nothing medicinal about that tree."

  "Not for you," Nova said. "Where tree?"

  He returned the image to her. "You won't find that around here. Go north. They grow in the region of Shad Laika."

  "Are cities there? Towns?"

  "Certainly they don't grow in towns!" He laughed. "But, yes, there are a few towns up there."

  She nodded and turned away.

  "I would not go there," he called after her. "They don't like Terrans unless you're one of them. Won't care about the difference between a botanist and a soldier."

  She stopped at the door. This ancient had a good eye. "There no Terrans here?"

  "Not often in Shad Laika." He snatched a small bag from a shelf. From a bin on her left he took a handful of herbs and, after shredding them, added them to the bag. "Take this."

  She regarded him suspiciously. His leathery hand took hers to place the parcel on it. "Mix it with water and drink it fast. It will turn your skin very red. The people of Bellac Tau are a more common sight in the north."