by J. Naomi Ay
“I have some medical records and information I would like to forward to you,” Captain Loman said. “Might I?”
“Really?” Donak’s eyes lit up. “I should like very much to see his medical records.”
“He is doing well then, yes?”
“Indeed,” Kenak cried jubilantly and patted the Captain’s knee. He began to rattle off Senya's accomplishments as if they were his own son's.
“He is staying off the drugs?” Loman smiled politely at Kenak but turned his attention to Donak.
“I believe so,” Donak replied.
“What drugs?” I asked.
“He is healthy?” Loman persisted, ignoring my question.
“He seems very healthy,” Donak replied. “Extraordinarily healthy.”
“Then the King of Karupatani has bid me give to you specific instructions in the event he seizes.”
“Seizes what?” I said.
“The King of Karupatani?” Kenak asked. “But you are from Mishnah.”
“I am indeed,” Loman replied.
“Seizes what?” I repeated, wondering if Donak was right and Senya had come here to take back the planet.
“There are times when he may have convulsions,” Loman continued.
“Oh, that kind of seizure.” I sighed with relief.
“Epileptic? He will never get his license to practice surgery if that is the case. Why did he not reveal this to us?” Donak demanded.
“Let him finish his sentence, Donak,” Kenak interrupted. “What kind of convulsions?”
“He is not epileptic.” Loman drank from his water bottle and then placed it on the floor by his feet. “And the seizures tend to be infrequent and somewhat controllable. I tell you only so that you will be able to assist should he need you. Sometimes there are weather disturbances. Most of these events are precluded by a loss of temper.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “What are we talking about?”
“Weather disturbances?” Donak raised his eyebrows.
“As I am sure you know by now, Dr. Donak, there are unique proteins in his blood. When the beta protein levels get too high and if he gets angry…”
“What does that have to do with the weather?” Kenak asked. “Are we still speaking about Ron?”
“Senya,” I said. “Are you saying something happens to the weather if he has a temper tantrum?”
“He prefers to be called Ron now,” Donak interrupted.
“Sehron,” Kenak explained to Loman.
“Maybe we are talking about someone else,” I suggested.
The door opened and speak of the devil again, Senya came in. He was dressed as usual in jeans, one of the t-shirts I had bought him, which now had a jagged tear down the side, and a worn-out pair of lace-less, sockless runners with holes in the toes.
“Sir,” Loman jumped to his feet, knocking over the water bottle which proceeded to spill its contents all over the floor.
“Oh my,” Kenak gasped and stumbled off the couch. He bent down and tried to wipe up the water with a handkerchief. Donak knelt to assist and then Loman followed suit except that Loman was kneeling in the puddle and not making any effort to clean it up.
“You’re getting wet, Captain,” I said and grabbed some tissues from my desk. Now, all four of us were on the floor at Senya’s feet, as he smiled benevolently down upon us.
“Hello Loman,” Senya said, his voice translated by the Universal Translator in Loman’s pocket. “Nice of you to come visit. Please rise.” He held out his hand, I thought to pull Loman up.
“My pleasure, Sir.” Loman kissed Senya’s hand and then rose to his feet. “You are looking well. A bit shabby but certainly better than the last time I saw you. Let me see your eyes. His Majesty of Karupatani is quite worried about you.”
Senya lifted up his glasses. His eyes were amazingly bright, practically lighting up the entire room.
“My goodness,” Loman exclaimed and shook his head.
Senya shrugged and put a cigarette in his mouth. He glanced down at the rest of us. “Shelly?” Offering me his hand, he helped me to my feet. I wondered if I was supposed to kiss it too. Donak and Kenak pulled each other up.
“Captain Loman is here,” Kenak said and cleared his throat. “From Rehnor.”
“Yes,” Senya agreed. “Captain Loman is here from Rehnor.”
“He is worried that you will have a seizure,” Donak added.
“Are you feeling okay, honey?” I asked.
“Perhaps you should come back with me,” Loman suggested. “Just for a day or two.”
“I will take care of it,” Senya replied, exhaling grey smoke.
Loman looked at him askance.
With the cigarette propped between his teeth, Senya showed Loman the inside of his right wrist. A long pink scab ran across it. Donak, Kenak and I peered closely at it.
Loman nodded. “Stay on top of it, son. Don't put it off. A bolt of lightning in this dustbowl might set the whole planet on fire.”
“Yes, Mother,” Senya replied, retrieving his cigarette. “I will be good. How is Berk?”
Loman smiled broadly. “Doing well since you scared the shit out of him. He graduated the University of New Mishnah and just got married.”
“Good.” Senya nodded.
“Do you want me to tell him I saw you?”
“No. His wife has a loose tongue and big mouth. ‘Tis better I remain dead a while longer.”
“Not too much longer, I hope.” Loman looked at Senya fondly. “Tell me can you actually see out of those things now?” He pointed at Senya's dark glasses.
“No.” Senya moved back toward the door. “But I scare less people this way.”
“That I can believe.” Loman chuckled and moved to the door as well. “Come my son, have you got a moment to break bread with me? I want to hear of your school work and your doctoring.”
“Sorry Loman. I can't right now. I've got to get back to the hospital. Walk me back if you like?”
Loman scoffed. “Me walk? On this dusty, hot planet? I'd have a heart attack before I got there but then again, you're a doctor now and can revive me!” He chuckled. “Of course you certainly could have revived me before too. One zap with your little finger ought to have done it, eh? Tell me, lad, do you actually practice surgery or do you just will your patients better?”
“Loman,” Senya sighed.
“Sorry, Sir. I am just having a little fun with you. Lord Dickon shall enjoy sharing this bit of news with the press, when you are ready of course. You'll have to come back then so we can snap some new pics for all the girls to drool over, now that you're all cleaned up and pretty again.”
“Must I?”
“Ah, better yet, I can send the press here to follow you around for a few days. You've got some doctor clothes or something you can wear, yes? They can take pics of you tending to some poor old lady, or better yet, a child. We'll show everyone how compassionate you are and then we shall all forget about your propensity to break things and kill people.” Loman’s large belly shook as he laughed heartily.
“Aren't you clever,” Senya responded humorlessly.
“I am at that, Sir,” Loman said and cupped Senya's face in his big hand. “It's good to see you healthy again. You have fun playing doctor while you can. You know, we are always at your service so do not hesitate to ring me or Lord Dickon if you need anything, right?”
Senya headed out the door but turned back for a moment. “Actually, I do need something,” he said. “I'm going to start a project and I need money from my holdings to finance it. I'll email you how much.”
“Of course, Sir,” Loman replied. “Whatever you need is at your disposal. You've also got your mother's trust available to you now as well.”
“I won't need that much. Why don’t you set that up as a charitable fund and start distributing it. I don’t want it. Got to run.” Senya pulled out his cell and glanced at it. “Thanks for visiting, Loman.”
“Any time, Sir,” Loman r
eplied as the door swished shut.
We all stood looking at Loman with our mouths hanging open.
“Why did you call him Sir?” I asked. “I thought he was a slave.”
“What did you mean when you said you are going to share this with the press?” Donak demanded. “You're going to make pinups of Senya?”
“How could a slave have a trust fund and holdings?” Kenak puzzled.
Loman smiled at his feet before turning his pale blue eyes back to us. “Clearly he has not told you who he is,” he said. “Not surprising really. He's been running from it his entire life.”
“He's a de Kudisha, we know that,” Kenak declared. “He must be related to the King of Karupatani.”
“He is indeed. He is the grandson of the King of Karupatani.”
“I told you he was a prince of Karupatani,” Kenak cried. “I was right all along. The marking you know, clearly indicated…” He slapped Donak across the back.
“You were not right all along,” Donak snapped, pushing Kenak away. “You were just speculating.”
“I speculated that!” Kenak insisted.
“He did,” I agreed.
“Among other speculations,” Donak retorted.
“Senya’s a prince, then?” I turned back to Loman. “Did he come here to take back the Karupatani continent?”
“I don't think so,” Loman shook his lion’s mane. “He has quite a full plate to deal with back on Rehnor.”
“Like what?” Kenak asked, anxiously. “Do tell.”
“Well Dr. Kenak, you see, Senya is also the grandson of the King of Mishnah. In a dozen years or so, he will inherit the entire planet.”
“What?” I gasped.
“What?” Kenak and Donak cried together.
Loman chuckled at our reactions. “The Karuptas refer to him as the MaKennah ka Rehnor.”
"The what?" I said.
“He's the MaKennah?” Kenak exclaimed.
"What is he?" Donak looked at me.
I shrugged.
"He is my enemy's son!" Kenak spun around in a circle clutching his hair. “My son is my enemy’s son.”
"Kenak, you do not have a son," Donak snapped. "Your only marriage lasted less than a year and produced no offspring. Get a grip on yourself, man!"
"No, no, no!" Kenak practically shouted while Captain Loman smiled indulgently. "It was not I who said that. I am quoting Karukan, the Infidel, from his writings."
"He wrote about his son?" I mumbled. “I guess I hadn't studied that part yet.”
"Karukan wrote of the savior of his people," Loman explained, patiently settling back in the sofa, his hands crossed in front of his stomach. "He referred to his descendent who would also be a descendent of his enemy, the Saint, Markiis Kalila."
"He called him the MaKennah," Kenak added, excitedly pacing the room.
"Yes," Loman replied. “One of Senya’s many titles is MaKennah Ka Rehnor.”
“Titles?" I said. “How exciting! Like what?” I had never met a prince before, just a lot of Allied politicians at dinners Tim was invited to.
"Well, MaKennah ka Rehnor, Crown Prince of Mishnah and Karupatani, Duke of the Light Continent and Dark Continent, Duke of the Mother and Child Moon…”
“I can’t believe this,” Donak scoffed. “Our Senya? He smokes, he drinks, he swears profusely and he doesn't wear shoes."
“You don't know half of it,” Loman remarked with a raise of his brows.
"Yet he is telepathic, telekinetic and of astounding intelligence," Kenak pronounced.
"And a drug addict, prone to violence and emotionally unstable," Loman added.
"Violence?" Donak’s eyes grew wide.
"Try not to make him mad," Loman advised.
"Is he supposed to save Rozari too?" I asked. "Or did the Infidel’s prophesy refer only to Rehnor?"
"That I cannot say," Loman stretched and stood up again. “I had best be going now."
"The writings of Karukan were unclear as to which planet he referred to when he spoke of the MaKennah," Kenak mused from nearby the window where he had parked himself after his pacing.
"The Karupatani assume it is our planet as Karukan wrote those words after he arrived on Rehnor." Loman headed to the door.
“Well if he's supposed to save Rehnor, what is he doing here?” I asked.
Loman turned and studied me for a moment. "You are not Rozarian."
"How could you tell? Is it that obvious? No, I'm from Earth.”
He narrowed his eyes as he looked me over. "He is hiding here. I brought him here to protect him. His enemies do not have the capacity to come here in large numbers and attack him.”
“He has enemies?” I gasped. “Who'd want to hurt Senya? He's so sweet.”
Loman coughed loudly and looked at me like I was crazy. “I don't believe Senya and sweet have ever been used in the same sentence.”
“But who would want to kill him?” Donak inquired.
“Prince Akan, his uncle,” Loman replied. “He was intended to be King before the crown was passed over to Sehron instead. Akan has a sizeable force because many do not want a half-blood Karupta on the Mishnese throne even though Sehron is through his mother, a Kalila.”
“That makes him a descendant of the Saint,” Donak stated, a puzzled look on his face. “Does it not?”
“Of course," Kenak declared, turning back from the window. "Have you not been paying attention, Donak? If he is the grandson of the Mishnese king, the son of my enemy’s son, he would have to be. Blessed Saint, what a find! What an incredible find you have made old friend.”
“Yes,” Loman nodded. “He is the son of both the Infidel and the Saint, as you said Dr. Kenak, the one Karukan wrote of more than a thousand years ago.”
“Does he have an army himself?” Donak asked. “How will he defeat these enemy forces once he returns?”
Loman smiled. “Yes, there are those who are loyal to him and will be when he returns. This is why we make so many pics and pinups of him. The people, especially the ladies, love to gaze upon him. He has a beauty, an aura about him, does he not?”
“Does he ever,” I sighed.
Loman put his hand upon the door. “Truth be told, Senya needs no army. When he is healthy, he has more power in his little finger than Akan's entire force. I can see he is healthy again and for that you all must take care. There are times when he cannot control the forces within him and he gets too busy or distracted to do what is necessary.”
“What is necessary?” Donak asked.
“I will send to you the King's instructions,” Loman replied. “For now, I bid you take care of our Crown Prince. If you would allow me to, I would like to periodically contact you so that you may let me know how he is doing. If you require compensation for your efforts or desire a donation to your institute, I am sure I can arrange that. My lord, the King of Mishnah is extremely wealthy. I will leave you now.” He bowed slightly to us and departed.
“He is a descendent of the Saint,” Kenak murmured and collapsed on the sofa with an expression of pure joy upon his face.
“He has power in his little finger,” Donak mused.
“Senya's going to be king of an entire planet?” I gasped. “Somebody needs to teach him to wear shoes.”
Senya or rather Dr. Ron, continued his work at the medical centre and received his MD and license to practice surgery. He specialized in neurology and the brain sciences and in a few short years became an expert in repairing function to damaged brains and spinal systems.
Periodically, Kenak would get an email or a call from Captain Loman just checking in or sending our department a donation which made us one of the richest departments in the Institute. Our popularity grew as well and by the time I left the department, there were many Post Docs and dozens of grad students to do the work I had been doing.
Regarding Ron's future both with the Institute and on Rozari, we never spoke. Any time Kenak approached him about it or queried him about the past, he was politely b
ut definitively cut off. I began to wonder if Ron would really return to Rehnor to do his duty. He seemed very content to remain with us on this dusty dry planet and play doctor forever.
You may wonder then why I gave up my position in the Anthropology department and with a PhD, I became an administrative assistant. The simple answer was, he asked me nicely. The long involved answer included that he paid me more than the Institute was paying me, and I was really ready to do something else even if it was just making appointments and pushing paperwork through the medical system of Rozari.
To get to the asking nicely part, well, I was drifting off to sleep at my desk as usual one afternoon when to my greatest surprise, Ron walked in. He had a cigarette hanging off his lip and was wearing a lab coat, with some disgusting looking stains on it, over his jeans and a t-shirt.
“Shelly,” he said and squatted down beside my chair so we were about eye to eye even though he was wearing those dark sunglasses and I couldn’t see his eyes. He took off his glasses and smiled at me. On top of everything else, he did have the sweetest smile when he showed it.
“Were you genetically engineered?” I asked, staring at his long thick eyelashes.
“Only by God.”
“He did a good job,” I noted. “Except for your feet.” I waited for him to tell me why he was gracing me with his presence today.
“You will come to work for me,” he said. “Yes?”
“Work for you?” Now I laughed. “You need a researcher? How could an anthropologist possibly help your surgical practice?”
“I need an admin,” he replied as if it was obvious. “You will like this job. No stress, good money, yes?”
“Why would I want to be your admin?” I shrieked, nearly hysterical. “Don't you have enough dumb blonde bimbos following you around who can answer your vid?”
“You are smart and you won't follow me around.”
“I have a PhD for heaven's sake! I am a professor!”
“You are bored with being a professor. Your PhD is a useless piece of paper.”