The Falcoran’s Faith

by Laura Jo Phillips

  The Xanti known as Za-Grix paused a few feet away from him, the newcomer at his side. They both bowed to him, and nodded once toward Slater. Magoa waited a beat, then bowed the smallest possible fraction in return.

  “Greetings, Magoa,” Za-Grix said. “I apologize for interrupting your work, but I’m afraid it was necessary.”

  “I am always pleased to see you, Za-Grix,” Magoa lied genially.

  “I am here to inform you that I will be leaving Onddo,” Za-Grix said without bothering to respond to Magoa’s obvious lie. “Xi-Rogi will be taking my place as your Xanti ambassador.”

  Magoa nodded. This was the fourth time such a change had been made since he’d begun working with the Xanti. He really didn’t care much one way or the other so long as the Xanti didn’t leave and take their knowledge and technology with them. Yet. When he was ready, when he had no more use for them, he would send them on their way personally.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Xi-Rogi,” he said, smiling politely.

  “I thank you,” the new Xanti replied.

  “Magoa,” Za-Grix said, “I wonder if you would mind verifying for Xi-Rogi the current number of sugea eggs.”

  “At last night’s count, there are one thousand, five hundred and eleven,” Magoa replied.

  “That seems low,” Xi-Rogi said. “According to the last report I read there were nearly fifteen hundred, and that was, I believe, ten days ago.”

  Magoa smiled, hiding his true reaction to the Xanti’s statement. “Yes, yes, that’s correct,” he said. “Our females are not machines, Xi-Rogi. They must go through a biologic cycle between layings. There will be more soon.”

  “Ah, I apologize for not thinking of that,” Xi-Rogi said. His eyes shifted to the door, then back to Magoa. “I am looking forward to viewing the eggs.”

  Magoa forced another smile and, knowing he had no choice, he opened the door and led the way into the dim, cavernous room. The Xanti followed Magoa, with Slater bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them.

  They stood for a long moment, gazing at the five hundred eggs which covered the floor in precise rows. Each egg was connected to a tiny digital transceiver which recorded every nuance of its development. The same device also fed a constant stream of recordings of Magoa’s voice into the egg.

  “I understand that the sound of your voice will cause the hatchlings to imprint upon you before birth,” Xi-Rogi said.

  “That is the hope,” Magoa replied. “The true imprinting will occur when they are born, though. I, alone, will be present at that time.”

  “What if they hatch when you are absent?”

  “Any sugea who do not imprint upon me will be destroyed,” Magoa said. “It is the only way to be certain that they remain in my control.”

  “You are certain that imprinting will induce them to obey you?”

  “Yes,” Magoa said. “In a natural setting, they would imprint upon their mother, and that connection would fade in time. These eggs are bio-engineered. Their imprint will be stronger, and will not fade until, or unless, I am killed. In that case, they will run amok.”

  “Then we will have to be careful to keep you alive, Magoa,” Xi-Rogi said.

  “Yes, that would be best for all concerned,” Magoa replied.

  “I believe that we will work very well together,” Xi-Rogi said.

  Magoa smiled again, then turned his back on the Xanti. “Would you like to see the other rooms? I assure you, they are all the same as this one.”

  “No, thank you, I’ve seen enough,” Xi-Rogi said as he followed Magoa to the door. “When are the first eggs due to hatch?”

  “Two weeks,” Magoa replied. “It will take them a year to mature and train. After that, there is no world, no force, no weapon that will be able to stand against them.”

  “Except the fail safe, of course,” Xi-Rogi said.

  “Fail safe?” Magoa asked, frowning.

  “It is my understanding that these sugea were bio-engineered to die instantly in the presence of a specific mixture of two gaseous elements,” Xi-Rogi said, his attitude suddenly tense.

  “Oh yes, of course,” Magoa replied with the wave of a hand. “I apologize, the term fail safe is unfamiliar to me. Yes of course, we must have a way of disposing of them should they get out of line.”

  “Exactly,” Xi-Rogi said.

  A few minutes later, after more false smiles and meaningless pleasantries, the Xanti left Magoa and Slater standing outside the entrance to the first egg vault. Magoa waited until they were no longer in sight before turning to Slater.

  “I think we have a problem, Slater my boy,” he said.

  “Problem?” Slater asked. “What sort of problem?”

  “This new Xanti asked a very good question,” Magoa said. “One that I had not considered myself.”

  “Which question?” Slater asked.

  “Why have we added so few eggs over the past two weeks?” Magoa said. “I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with the new behavior modification program that must be finished before the first eggs hatch. I hadn’t realized that only eleven new eggs have been added to the nursery.”

  “Eleven?” Slater said in surprise. He was slow sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. “That makes no sense. Is there a mistake?”

  “Good question, my boy, good question,” Magoa said. “I think we must set aside work this morning, and pay a visit to town for some answers.”

  ***

  After the Katres came to retrieve Summer and Darlene, Faith sat in her room thinking for the rest of the morning. Once she’d made up her mind, she got up and went to her closet. The prettiest outfit she had was one that the guys had bought the day they’d gone shopping in Badia. It had a long, flowing skirt with a slit along one side, and a fitted, sleeveless top. The outfit had no embellishment, but the silky fabric had a green and bronze iridescent sheen that flashed and shimmered in the light. She took the outfit from the closet, then went to take a long bath.

  ***

  Magoa stepped out of his private ground-car and looked around in surprise at the empty streets. How was this possible? What had happened? And why had no one informed him?

  He thought back, trying to remember exactly when his last visit to town had been. It had been weeks earlier, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut. He stepped up onto the sidewalk, Slater right behind him, and headed for the nearest shop. The door was locked. He looked in through the window and saw that the lights were off and the shelves were bare.

  He walked to the next shop, and found the same. Four businesses later he decided he’d seen enough. He spotted an elderly male on the far side of the street and waved him over.

  “Where is everyone?” he demanded before the male was half way to him. The male shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, Magoa, but I’ve no idea,” he said. “A couple of weeks ago people just started to disappear. None of us know why.”

  “How many of you are left?”

  “I dunno for sure,” the male said, scratching his head with one dirty claw. “A couple dozen maybe?”

  “Why was I not told of this?” Magoa demanded.

  “Um...,” the male said, frowning in confusion. “How was we supposed to tell you?”

  How indeed? Magoa wondered as he looked around at the deserted town, remembering his own threats should anyone disturb him while he worked. He turned and walked back to his ground-car without another word to the male, who stared after him in surprise.

  Several hours later, after checking the airbase, the training facilities, and the labs, and finding them all virtually empty, Magoa ordered his driver to take him home. Then he closed the privacy screen and turned to Slater.

  “This is very bad, Slater,” he said.

  Slater nodded in agreement. “What will we do?”

  “Well, that’s the question,” Magoa said. “The people went somewhere, and they went for a reason. I could send you out in sugea form to search, but I doubt that would do very much good. They snuck
away, and they took ground cars, ground trucks, and all of the air craft, and pilots, with them. It stands to reason they’ll be hiding. Sending you out to fly around at random would be a waste of time.

  “What we need are thermal scans, and a pilot for one of those Xanti shuttles still sitting over at the airfield. We could ask the Xanti, but I don’t like the idea of asking more favors from them. Especially now, before the eggs hatch.”

  “The Brethren,” Slater said after a few moments.

  Magoa looked at him in surprise. “Now there’s an idea,” he said thoughtfully. After a few minutes he began to chuckle, then to laugh. Slater had no idea what was so funny, but from the expression on Magoa’s face, he had a solution to their problems. What that solution was didn’t matter to Slater. Magoa was brilliant. His ideas were always perfect, and his plans always worked.

  ***

  Tristan, Gray, and Jon, sat silently at their usual table in a back corner of the cafeteria, their dinners sitting untouched in front of them. Whenever Faith was in the Observation Deck with them they made an effort to shield their feelings from her, and to talk and behave normally. They were determined not to make her feel any pressure, but it wasn’t easy. When they were alone, they rarely spoke at all, and they spent a lot of time in the Roar Room. The ache in their hearts wasn’t any easier to take when they were in their alter forms, but it was easier for their falcorans to throw their heads back and scream their anguish.

  Suddenly the low hum of conversation around them hushed, catching their attention. Tristan was facing the door, so he saw her first. When he rose slowly to his feet, Jon and Gray turned around to see what he was looking at. They both gasped softly as they, too, stood up.

  “Maldita!” Tristan swore hoarsely as he stared at the stunning woman standing in the doorway of the cafeteria. It was Faith, of course, he knew that, but this was a Faith they’d never seen before. Instead of the usual jeans, casual shirt, and pony tail, she now wore the outfit they’d chosen for her, and it suited her perfectly. She was still too thin, but she had a woman’s curves and the silky fabric hugged them lovingly. Her hair hung down around her shoulders in an artful disarray of soft curls. A touch of makeup accented her hazel eyes, and her lips were glossy pink. Bubbles sat on her shoulder, the long fur over her eyes held back with a tiny pink satin bow. She held her little head high with a definite air of pride.

  “Can you believe it?” Tristan whispered hoarsely.

  “Is this a dream?” Gray asked.

  “If it is, I am warning you both in all seriousness, do not wake me up,” Jon said.

  Faith still hadn’t spotted them, and they all felt the precise moment she began to feel nervous beneath the stares of the men filling the cafeteria. Tristan began growling softly, backed up by Gray and Jon. The hundred and fifty or so crewmen fell silent as they turned warily toward the Falcorans. But they barely noticed. They only had eyes for Faith, who also turned toward them. For one brief moment they saw a hint of fear in her eyes, but it passed as quickly as it had come. She smiled, and their hearts stuttered in their chests.

  Watching her walk toward them, moving around the intervening tables, one shapely leg peeking out from the long slit in her skirt with each step, was slow, but delicious, torture for all three of them. Tristan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he began to see spots before his eyes.

  Taking a hasty gulp of air, he reached over and pulled out the fourth chair at the table just as she reached them and met his gaze with a smile that made him forget to breathe again. Tristan sucked in a breath of air just as Jon started growling again. Gray and Tristan tore their eyes from Faith, and saw that every other male in the room was also staring at her. They added their warning growls to Jon’s. Suddenly, no one in the room was looking their way. Satisfied, Tristan turned back to Faith, who was grinning.

  “Problem?” she asked innocently?

  “Not at the moment,” Tristan said, his voice a bit higher than usual. He cleared his throat and helped Faith into her chair before retaking his own seat. He cast around for something clever to say. And came up empty. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He reached for the glass of water in front of his plate and drank half of it down in an effort to relieve his dry mouth.

  “Beautiful,” he gasped, setting the glass back down on the table. Gray kicked him and he winced. “Sorry. Um...,” he trailed off, loosing himself in her warm, hazel eyes.

  “What Tristan is failing utterly to say is something like, Hello Faith, you look absolutely stunning,” Jon said.

  “And we are so happy that you’ve decided to join us for dinner,” Gray added. “May I order you something to drink?”

  Tristan frowned at his brothers, then chuckled at himself. “I do apologize, Faith,” he said. “My only excuse is the truth, which is that you quite literally took my breath away.”

  Faith reached over and placed one hand on top of Tristan’s as she leaned in, keeping her words private between the four of them. “Then you know how I feel when I look at the three of you.” She removed her hand and leaned back, then smiled at Gray. “I would like some juice, thank you.”

  Gray turned to summon their waiter just as he appeared with Faith’s dinner on a tray. When he left, Jon got up and fetched a chair for Bubbles to use as a table. It took them a little while, but eventually the Falcorans began to relax as they ate dinner with Faith. They made small talk, discussing the jump points, how far they were from Onddo, and other minor subjects. They were dying to get Faith alone so they could ask more personal questions, but at the same time, they were enjoying her company, and her beauty.

  When they’d all finished eating and were sitting, sipping their drinks, Faith looked at each of them for a long moment. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to talk with you, in private.”

  “No, we don’t mind at all,” Tristan said at once. “Now?”

  “If that’s convenient,” Faith said. They felt her begin to feel nervous.

  “For you, Faith, any time is convenient,” Jon said.

  Faith rewarded him with a smile that was so bright it literally stunned him for a few moments.

  “We can go to the Observation Deck, the Roar Room, or we can go to my room,” Tristan said. He wanted to go to his room since there was less chance of them being interrupted there, but it had to be her choice. She considered the options for a moment, then smiled at him. “Your room, please.”

  Tristan nearly groaned aloud, but caught himself in time. He pushed his chair back and stood, then politely helped Faith to her feet. He reached down for Bubbles who scampered up his arm before leaping to Faith’s shoulder where she stretched herself out with a contented purr, her little pink bow slightly crooked.

  ***

  Stalnek finished recording a scathing, and threatening, message to Magoa and hit the send key, stabbing at it so hard that the tip of his claw broke off. That only served to enrage him further but there was no one nearby to take his anger out on. He stood up and walked to the small table at the far side of his office and stared at the nine artifacts that he had long carried with him wherever he went. They were not important relics. Just a selection of small carvings depicting various Narrasti that he’d always enjoyed. Now, they were all that remained. Nine. Out of dozens!

  His crewmen had spent the entire day going through the Brethren encampment in search of the missing relics. They’d dug up floors, emptied trunks and foot lockers, and torn open mattresses. But they hadn’t found a single sign of any relic, anywhere. Jarlek would not have dared to defy his direct order to bring the relics to Onddo. The only explanation that made any sense was that they’d been stolen.

  There were not very many people on this world, but as far as Stalnek knew, Magoa ruled them all. If he hadn’t stolen the relics, his people had, and that made Magoa responsible. He’d just sent a message to Magoa saying as much. Now he would have to wait for the Narrasti to respond, and Stalnek hated waiting.

  He began pacing his offi
ce, his large reptilian feet pounding against the floor as he stomped back and forth, back and forth. His footsteps were so loud that he nearly missed the sound of an incoming message alert scarcely ten minutes later.

  ***

  Kevlin stood outside of Stalnek’s office door, listening to him stomp back and forth, ranting and swearing loudly in one of his full blown tantrums. Experience had taught him that Stalnek could, and most likely would, go on in the same vein for hours. Satisfied, he turned and headed for the lower deck where the sleeping quarters were located. He was fully aware that Stalnek had cameras all over the ship, and he knew where they were. He was counting on Stalnek being too preoccupied with his tantrum to pay attention to the security monitor beside his desk.

  He reached the lower deck, turned left, then right, and stopped in front of Stalnek’s door. Without hesitation he turned the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. Then he walked over to a corner of the room that he knew the camera couldn’t see and leaned against the wall while he tried to calm his racing heart.

  Once Kevlin had composed himself, he left the safety of the corner and went to the built in desk that held Stalnek’s personal vid terminal. Stalnek’s constant belief that everyone around him was stupid had allowed Kevlin to learn more secrets than Stalnek would ever have guessed possible. Using Stalnek’s personal pass code, which he’d actually known for years, but had never used before, he accessed Stalnek’s private files.

  Even knowing what he was doing, it still took several minutes to unlock the half dozen layers of safety protocols guarding a program that Stalnek thought no one else was even aware of. When the program finally launched, it took only a few seconds for Kevlin to enter the fifteen digit string that he’d memorized five years earlier, arming the Chameleon’s self-destruct system.

  Kevlin watched the countdown for a few seconds to be certain it was activated, then he changed the pass code with an encrypted set of numbers that he chose randomly without even looking at the key pad. Given enough time, any reasonably skillful being could break the new code. But it would take a lot longer than fifteen minutes.