by S. G. Basu
“So, Hans, you must have a terribly important office to be allowed to visit us unescorted.”
“He’s in the Committee of Scientific Exchange,” Maia chimed in, inviting quizzical glances from both Ren and Nafi.
“Dani told us a lot about you when we traveled up to Xif,” Maia explained, realizing that Ren and Nafi had not been privy to Dani’s detailed description of her brother.
Hans nodded. “Maia is right. I am a member of that committee,” he said.
“Aren’t you too young for that?” Nafi sat up straight, suddenly alert.
“You’re the youngest member of the committee, aren’t you?” Maia asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Hans smiled. “I see my sister has kept you well informed.”
“Yes, she is good at that,” Nafi commented, drawing a loud guffaw from Hans. “What exactly does the committee do?”
“Well, every year representatives from the Xifarian Republic and the Jjordic State meet to discuss the items of scientific and cultural value that will be traded in exchange for the energy from Xif,” Hans explained. “The committee selects various articles, evaluates their prospective values, votes to pick the final trade items, and then negotiates with our Xifarian counterparts until an agreement is reached.”
“Can’t believe they would let someone your age on that committee,” Nafi said as she picked some gooey nibbles from the bowl at the center of the table. “From what I see at the XDA, seems like the elders run a tight show around here. It doesn’t feel like they would enjoy negotiating with someone half their age.”
Hans chuckled. “They are quite appreciative of competence. You do need to prove your worth though.”
“See? My people are not as prejudiced as you think,” Ren commented with a smirk. “So, Hans, do you like being in the committee? Is it fun?”
“Can’t be fun to deal with the unfair terms and all,” Nafi said.
Before Hans could reply, Ren chortled. “How can you call it unfair when what you get in return is the source of life for everyone on Tansi? You get light, heat, work . . . and still it’s unfair?”
Nafi stayed silent for a while, reddening slightly as she studied Ren. He continued laughing a casual, indifferent laugh.
“It’s simple really. Since you’ve made our planet so dependent on you, we give you pretty much anything we are asked for. It’s not just unfair, it is . . .” Nafi said in one breath, paused, then searched for the right word. Her eyes brightened as she landed a perfect one. “It’s extortion.”
“Extortion?” Ren snorted. He leaned back comfortably into his chair and fixed his gaze on Nafi. “Do you even know what that word means?”
Nafi sat up straight, nostrils flaring, cheeks flushed. Maia searched for a way to create some distraction, but found none.
“It means you held us for ransom,” Nafi said, exerting every bit of effort to make her case. “Everybody knows it. Destroying our energy sources and threatening us with extinction to get what you want, that is extortion.”
“Oh, come on, Nafi. That is a crazy conspiracy theory. We didn’t destroy anything. We simply helped when you needed help. Imagine where you would be had it not been for us,” Ren replied in his typical nonchalant way. There was something about his comments, their offhand nature that made them sound even more hurtful than they were meant to be.
“Where have Kusha and Dani disappeared? We should go look,” Maia made an attempt to change the subject, but her efforts were lost on Ren who decided to drive his point home.
“Why are you always so quick to blame us for everything when it all starts from the hopeless situation you’ve dragged yourselves into? The planet you live on is dead, so to speak, or did we also kill it for you? No, I believe you did that yourself. You depend on the Jjord for food; you count on us for heat and light. I think we are more than kind to do what we are doing for you. Maybe a little gratitude wouldn’t be out of place.”
“That’s enough,” Hans spoke sharply; his voice was not loud but crisp in its air of finality. “These are things of the past, and there’s no point blaming each other for events that you had no control over. It’s the future that we need to worry about. And what chances would we have left if you, the hopes of our future together, remain so bitter over things that have been so long dead?”
The silence at the table was deafening. Thankfully, the waitress arrived with a cartload of plates filled with soups, bread, fish and meat, puddings and pies.
As Maia’s eyes glanced over the numerous dishes, bowls, and plates, the recent disagreement kept sounding in her ears, Ren’s words ringing the loudest. She alone knew the real truth. And that truth was even more hurtful than Nafi could imagine. Ren was right. Tansi’s own were responsible for its misfortune, including Maia’s mother, Sophie, who was a traitor, a turncoat.
While everyone was busy trying to figure out what they had ordered, Kusha and Dani reappeared, panting.
“You won’t believe what happened,” Dani whispered as she eased into her seat. Maia saw Dani’s excited eyes dim and cloud with worry the moment they met Maia’s. “Are you all right, Maia? You look so pale. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing,” Maia replied in a hurry. She definitely did not want to discuss all that had transpired in their absence and possibly reenact the whole drama. The evening was more than half gone, and the recap could wait till the next day.
“How was the theme room?” Maia asked, forcing some false cheer into her voice.
“Oh, it was all right, just some multi-dimensional movies of Damaluus,” Kusha waved his hand in quick dismissal. “But you won’t believe this . . . we ran into His Royal Highness.”
“Miir?” Nafi looked up. “Did you say hello?”
“I waved at His Highness for . . . quite a while,” Dani informed.
“And why do you call your mentor that?” Hans asked Dani, throwing a questioning gaze around.
A wave of laughter spread across the table.
“Because, my dear brother, the only response I got after waving at him frantically was a pitiful half smile.”
“At least he smiled at you,” Kusha added. “He barely even looked in my direction. I could have been invisible standing right next to you.”
Before Hans could open his mouth to ask the next question, the group broke into an animated conversation about their various encounters with the mentor. By the time Hans was abreast with all matters, everyone had done justice to the food.
Hans tapped his chin. “I understand why you would want to name him so. But I still want to meet him sometime to thank him for the arrangements he made for tonight.” He frowned at the looks of disdain being exchanged across the table. “Well, he went out of his way to clear all the paperwork so I could take you out on such short notice.”
“Going out of his way?” Maia was a little hesitant to give credit so easily. “I don’t know about that. Maybe all mentors are expected to do this for their teams.”
“I would still like to thank him, if you don’t mind,” Hans insisted, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “You know, he even made the reservations here for me. That couldn’t have been easy since the Moon Harvest is almost always booked months in advance.”
His wish came true when they walked out of the restaurant after the bill had been taken care of. In the dance studio next door, a group of seniors from the XDA, including Miir, sat chatting. Maia recognized the two Circle Four students who had stopped their fight with Lex’s gang, and she now realized how the news of the brawl had reached Miir so fast.
“He seems cheerful today,” commented Nafi.
Heads turned and necks craned to catch a glimpse of an uncharacteristically jovial and charming Miir talking to an attractive red-haired girl. Maia remembered the girl as the host from the TEK Club tryouts. As soon as Miir saw them staring, his demeanor changed. He murmured something to his companion and started to walk toward Hans and the group.
“I wonder why he dislikes us so much,” said Kusha. “
Did you notice how his expression changed when he saw us?”
“Humph,” observed Nafi.
“He’s afraid that we will ask irrelevant personal questions,” Maia remarked.
“Shush, he’ll hear us,” whispered Dani.
“Give him a break, guys. He’s like any other boy, he has friends and . . . a girlfriend,” Hans murmured, all the while smiling widely at the approaching figure.
“That is precisely the problem,” Dani whispered back. Maia tittered inside. It was strange, but fun to see Dani so bubbly. Obviously, her brother’s presence brought out bits of her lively personality, which she seemed to conceal under a veneer of shyness. “You see, he’s not like any other boy. He’s the invincible and the indisputable Miir, exceptional and unique.”
With a hearty laugh, Hans stepped forward toward Miir. Dani followed to introduce them to each other while the rest of the group chose to watch from a respectable distance. Miir seemed amiable as he conversed with Dani and her brother. After enough pleasantries had been exchanged, Hans and the group headed back to the XDA.
Hans dropped them off before going on his way to Armezai, the capital of Xif. That night, even as Maia sat reminiscing the happy evening, she could not forget the argument about the Exchange. She felt a growing sense of fear—fear that the past might catch up with her soon.
27: In the Dyosican Hangar
Kusha spotted the change in their daily routine when they were handed the new month’s schedules. They were to meet at Dyosican Hangar A every day for the entire month. Most other sessions had been rearranged or cut by half, and all of the spillover time pushed into lengthy meets at the same hangar.
“Kehorkjin doesn’t have any time at all,” Kusha observed. “Only a few scattered spots at the Design Studios.”
“Awwww, looks like you miss him already,” Nafi said with a smirk.
“Must be the flight training then,” Maia concluded.
“You’re right, Maia,” Ren said. “They will probably announce it soon.”
While the contestants had been waiting eagerly for the flight training sessions, no announcements had come their way. Now that the timetables had changed, the group grew restless. The upcoming flight lessons were soon confirmed by a particularly foul-tempered Miir that cold evening.
“I hope everyone here is aware that flight training starts this week,” he said, his eyes seeking evidence of such knowledge in the faces surrounding him. “In the sphere of space and spacecraft, Xifarian technology is counted among the best in the known universe, so I suggest that you make good use of this opportunity and learn as much as you can.
“Remember, it takes years for anyone to gain mastery of flying crafts. In the little time you will be given, do not hope to be an expert, just focus on winning as a team,” he continued in his usual inhospitable tone. “I would also like to remind you that I have always been the best in all Circles, and I expect no less from you. I want you to be among the final twenty at least.”
Maia tried to resist the temptation to ask questions, as did everyone else. They had all learned not to talk to their mentor unless absolutely necessary, and that plan had worked well. There had been no fireworks or disasters lately. It was questionable whether Miir added any value as their mentor and guide except for teaching them restraint of speech. In Nafi’s case, that was probably a good thing to learn. For Maia, restraint did not work either. Miir seemed to dislike her with his heart and soul, and she always found herself at the receiving end of his sarcasm. He circled his way around a conversation to criticize her, even if it meant digging out some past transgression, and her questions or comments, no matter how simple, always drew ridicule. This particular evening was no exception.
“It has to be a pretty big hangar to have all of us trained at one time, especially with flying crafts,” Maia made the mistake of whispering to Dani a little too loudly.
“I fail to see how that information would affect your learning in any way. However, I do see that your lack of focus or your focus on the wrong things will ruin your prospects. Honestly, I do not care how you choose to wreck yourself, but be very careful of any potential threat you may pose to the success of the team,” Miir lectured with a generous helping of derision. “And if I may add, being so frivolous will not sit well with Flight Master Demissie.”
“Is there anything in particular that we should prepare for?” Kusha tried to lighten the rapidly stiffening atmosphere.
“Try to be very alert, try to sharpen your senses, and get rid of the habit of thinking of yourself as highly as some of you do.” Miir threw a meaningful frown in Maia’s direction. “And most importantly, try to speak only when you are spoken to.”
***
On the first day of Flight Training, the group started early, not wanting to be the last ones to join the session. From the latest buzz in the dining room, the Flight Master was not to be taken lightly. The walk was long. The hangar was located at the southern tip of the campus. The puniest little door with “Dyosican Hangar A” imprinted around the Royal Crest welcomed the excited group.
The room that lay on the other side of the door was beyond enormous. The Hall of Spires paled in comparison to this hangar, which, according to Dani, could house about twenty such halls inside it. The entire floor had an ethereal sheen, its luminous glow enhanced by the way it was lit up from underneath. The whole room was bare and empty except for a few anxious contestants gathered along its left edge. A series of markers hung on the wall, signifying the space allotted to each team, and Maia and her friends quietly made their way to marker 21.
Their wait was short. The door opened, and a man came striding in, his long, dark red robe flowing behind him. His amber skin glowed in the warm light of the hangar, his high cheekbones and a sharp, somewhat angular nose stood out on his attractive face. He walked to the center of the gathering, flipped the dark cascade of hair that hung just above his shoulders in carefully styled curls, and turned around to face the assembly. His dark and lucid brown eyes made a smooth and appraising sweep over the congregation.
“I am Master Demissie and I will instruct you in the basics of spatial flight,” he said. “Flight drives the Xifarian way of life. It is our heritage and legacy, the passion of every citizen of this planet. And starting today, you will get a glimpse of it.”
Maia gulped as butterflies danced a wild gig in her stomach.
“And now, we need a volunteer for the Cylopede Challenge,” the master’s eyes scanned the crowd. Maia leaned over to ask Ren about the Cylopede.
“It’s a basic vehicle, one of the first crafts every trainee here is expected to master. It requires extreme control and balance—”
He stopped mid-sentence when the door of the hangar flew open noisily. Lex and his gang stomped in guffawing, and then froze as they realized that the session had already started.
“So, who do we have here?” inquired Master Demissie, walking toward the door.
“I am Lex and I—”
“And you specialize in being late. Maybe you have other talents as well,” the master teased. “Let’s find out. You shall be my volunteer. Please step forward.”
28: Freefall
All eyes were on Lex as he took unenthusiastic steps forward, his face ashen. At the beckoning of the Flight Master, a pair of large robots with spindly, dangly limbs rolled in a machine shaped like the crescent of a moon to the center of the room. Rising from the lower tip of the crescent was a sturdy metal rod. It ended in a small seat that faced the center of the craft. The machine was widest at its middle, the central section wide enough to fit two people behind it. This broad part also housed a small console full of tiny buttons and a puny steering stick. From this console to the upper tip, the body of the machine was transparent, creating a window for the pilot.
“This is a Cylopede, or a Pede, as most of the students here like to call it,” said Flight Master Demissie, pointing at the semi-circular machine. “It is a simple craft, and you can achieve basic control ju
st by understanding the machine’s nuances. And that is what I want to teach you today. I want to see if you are able to figure out its secrets.”
A small smile adorned his face as he turned toward Lex.
“Sir Lex here will try this particular one, and we will hopefully have some insight into its functioning. This craft has motors that can drive in any direction, but for our little exercise, we will not use any of those.”
He paused momentarily before nodding at Lex who stood frozen, his forehead glistening with perspiration.
“Will you please take a seat on the Cylopede?”
Lex clambered up the stationary Pede and sat on the small raised seat. He did not have much time to get comfortable before the machine started to rise slowly, stopping about halfway to the ceiling. It remained suspended briefly in midair, and then plunged toward the ground. Maia gasped in terror as she realized the intent of the exercise; this free fall was the focus of the demonstration. Faster and faster he fell, until the Cylopede was level with the master’s eyes. Then it stopped as abruptly as it had started falling.
Maia blinked, too agitated to believe that the craft had actually stopped. She had half expected it to crash on the floor in a squashed heap. For a moment she thought that Lex had managed to find a way to make it stop, until she saw Master Demissie wave the small controller stick at the craft. It was in fact the master who had started and stopped the Pede, and now he brought it to a slow and complete rest on the floor. Lex, however, did not make it to the ground in the Pede. Just before the craft touched down, he dropped out of the seat and fell face-first on the floor. He immediately scrambled to his feet, put his hands to his mouth, and scampered out of the hangar.
A giggle rose from deep inside Maia, too fast for her to be aware of its presence, let alone try to suppress it. The obnoxious Lex had finally been taught a lesson that he would remember for life. Her laughter vanished when she saw the stares from around the assembly. Master Demissie’s fluid eyes were fixed on her, and an amused smile played on his lips as he beckoned her toward him. Maia’s heart sank, the brief moment of absolute joy fast disappearing into oblivion.