by DC Bastien
[Sianor: Uhm. OK...]
[Ashroe: It's a tradition. We all get something that the other person wants, but with some kind of twist or catch. It's best if you get something useful for them, but that you would want. We're a bit messed up.]
[Sianor: Ahh, I understand. That's pretty neat. Shows you put effort into it.]
[Ashroe: Yeah, well, it's that or gift vouchers I guess. Or ties, socks, and smellies. I get enough of those from mundanes.]
[Sianor: What else have you bought?]
[Ashroe: I bought my dad some slippers and chocolates. The slippers look like dinosaur feet, and the chocolates are filled with chilli, like a roulette wheel. He can play it with us when we've all had too much sherry.]
[Sianor: Oh, oh, will you be sending pictures?]
[Ashroe: I don't know what your obsession with seeing my boring life is, but sure I'll send some.]
[Sianor: I'll send you some of my Christmas dinner, too. It will be more boring. My parents just are... well. Nice, but... dull. And everyone from college will just be going home for the holidays, not... sticking around.]
[Ashroe: None of the cool kids are local?]
[Sianor: A couple, but no one I really hit it off with. To be honest, I'm on the edge of friendship groups as it is. Not being there most of the time means I miss out on a lot of the bonding, plus I don't drink and I'm usually too bookish for them.]
[Ashroe: We'll paint the town red when we meet up. Okay... have a look at this. I want to get cooking implements for my sister, but I can't work out if I should get the Lego utensils or the simulated murder.]
[Sianor: Ohh, tough choice.]
[Ashroe: What Would Kay Do....]
[Sianor: Dude, you really have to ask?]
[Ashroe: Apparently so. Well, Kay would likely buy both, but I have to spend about the same amount on everyone. Hmm. Fine, simulated murder it is.]
[Sianor: A fine choice, madam.]
[Ashroe: You're gonna need to give me your postal address soon.]
[Sianor: You gonna send me a card????]
[Ashroe: *cough* Yes.]
[Sianor: !!!! OK but I am sending one back.]
[Ashroe: Deal.]
***
Chapter Seven - Mission: Seclusion
Biann bounced on one of the two beds, the one furthest from the door. It creaked and groaned, but it held. The room was small and basic: a limited washroom with shower and toilet, two beds pushed together, a light by each bed and one in the ceiling. There was a flat wall for vid projection, emergency power and communications ports, and nothing else. Not even a chair.
It was clearly not what Kre was hoping for, because the Sianar was pacing restlessly in the small space between her bed and the single door. One entrance, one exit. Biann knew it was upsetting her, but what choice did they have?
"Look, if they find us here, we've got little chance of escaping, anyway," she said, trying to be reassuring. "We don't know what happened to the Captain or the rest of the crew, we've got limited resources, and... I'm not helping, am I?"
"Not really." Kre turned her head slowly, her huge, amber-brown eyes sad. Her whole body-language spoke of resignation mixed with stress-response. "We should go back to the ship."
"Why? He told us to lie low. If we go back there, we'll be walking into a trap, right?"
"What do you advise, then? We cannot stay here forever. Even my pockets are not that deep, Biann-Tho. We would have to get off-world to somewhere we could vanish, take jobs at the edge of society... and become ghosts."
"I..." The Hleen stammered, her tongue going fat and unwieldy in her mouth. What could they do? "Can't... we ask... for help?"
"Ask whom? Going to my father left us in this mess. I think it is safe to say I no longer have people I can rely on. People other than... you."
There was a creaking noise of floorboards moving, and Kre was between Biann and the door in an instant.
"That's not entirely true, Kre-Tho-Tiamet."
***
"Mes, tell me there's somewhere I can put this bird down, please," Saidhe begged. "The longer we're up in the air, the more likely it is we'll get shot down."
"There is a Roq settlement ten blocks over, Saidhe. It is part of Jazibe, but my assessment of local social media suggests that they consider themselves a 'kolkhoz', or a community settlement and modern-day farm. They superficially obey Ur law and Jazibe law when they must, but they follow the older traditions of Roq justice when they can."
Saidhe turned to Loap. "What would their feelings be on harbouring a Hleen?"
"Probably better than their feelings on harbouring me, Sai."
"You? You're lovely. Me... I'm a cold, heartless bitch."
Loap opened his mouth wide, showing teeth and that long, pointed tongue in the process. "You're not, as much as you like to pretend you are. All bark and no bite, Tho."
"Well, we're fast running out of options. Are we going to go for this... weird little religious farm community, or are we going to try to fly away from habitable space? I'm in favour of landing."
"As am I."
"Mes, will you be...?" Saidhe started.
"I will be stuck in this vessel until I am restored to my original databanks aboard the Messenger, unless you find somewhere suitable for me, and are able to give me enough connectivity and time to complete a transfer."
"...I meant: 'will you be okay if we park you'," Saidhe finished, a little sheepishly.
"Oh." Beat. "Yes, I believe so."
"If this is the best we can find... then do it," Loap said. "I will just have to... convince them we're good company to keep."
***
"Wait, you know him?"
Kre's hackles had gone down, but she was still on edge. She paced a half-step to the side, so that Biann could see the Hleen who had just entered.
"Yes, Biann. I know him. This... this is Waith."
The older Hleen bowed his sparsely-decorated head. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Okay, that's nice and all, but that don't explain why you're here, when we're hiding," Biann went on. "Seems mighty convenient."
"It isn't," Waith said. "I'm here to rescue you both."
"Wait, what?"
"I am with Biann on this, Maister. It is very good to see you again, but your sudden appearance is very... difficult to understand."
The old man nodded, his jaw set. "Kre, do you trust me?"
Kre glanced back once at Biann, then turned back to Waith, her tail swishing in the Sianar equivalent of a nod.
"Come with me, then, and I will explain everything. I promise."
The Sianar turned back to Biann, her eyes soft and questioning.
"Kre... if you trust him? Then I do too."
"Then let's get out of here. I did not feel comfortable in such a hole. We were like prey, waiting in our den to be slaughtered."
"You Sianar and your violent imagery. I'd missed that about you." Waith opened the door again, and waved Kre out, first. "If you'd be so kind, I have a small shuttle craft waiting for us."
***
[Ashroe: I was stuck for so long on the word I wanted. I get angry when I can't find precisely the right one.]
[Sianor: You use such pretty words, though!]
[Ashroe: Sometimes I worry I use long words for no other reason than I like words, but then I realise anyone who reads probably likes words, too, or they wouldn't be reading.]
[Sianor: I like meeting ones I've never met before. Few writers do that to me, now, but maybe it's because I read so much.]
[Ashroe: If you study languages, too, you end up able to work out what a lot of new ones mean. Half by context, half by history.]
[Sianor: I did wonder why you'd gone so quiet for so long.]
[Ashroe: I just... I know the word I want, but it's slightly out of reach. I had to do some searching to remind myself of the one that fit. And sometimes I use words I maybe only came across once or twice, but they fit what I want them to say, so they go in.]
[Sianor: Do yo
u have a favourite word?]
[Ashroe: Interesting question. You know, I'm not sure I've ever considered it before.]
[Sianor: I like them for their meanings, but sometimes I just like words because of how they sound, or look, or how they roll out of your mouth... even if you're just imagining that. I like to think about them for a bit.]
[Ashroe: Go on, I'm intrigued. What's your favourite word?]
[Sianor: At the minute, it's 'parochial'. I started to think about it when we were planning out the Roq settlement. I'll probably have a new favourite word soon.]
[Ashroe: I see. I quite like 'synecdoche' and 'ricochet'. I guess I like my 'che's.]
[Sianor: Oooh, both good ones.]
[Ashroe: If you say words too much, don't they lose their meaning to you?]
[Sianor: No, not normally.]
[Ashroe: They do to me. If it starts happening, I try to get a song stuck in my head instead, and lay off the internal narration and conversations for a while. Doesn't always work, though.]
[Sianor: I'm wondering what word you were stuck on, though. It all seems pretty... er.]
[Ashroe: You can say it. Pretty boring language. I know. I just... sometimes draw a blank. The word is there, but... behind a barrier. It was 'imagery'.]
[Sianor: Huh. Weird.]
[Ashroe: I kept thinking 'metaphor' or 'figurative speech' but they weren't right. I - uh - needed a figure for a figure.]
[Sianor: I think I took the red pill there.]
[Ashroe: Then I ended up in this divide by zero loop and my head sort of BSOD'd.]
[Sianor: BSOD'd?]
[Ashroe: Blue Screen of Death.]
[Sianor: You really are a nerd, you know.]
[Ashroe: That's the highest compliment known to man.]
[Sianor: I know.]
[Ashroe: Damnit, now you're using my lines.]
[Sianor: Heh. Heh. Heh.]
***
The shuttle craft was, apparently, on the roof. Waith had turned on small anti-gravity boots and floated up to the flat area above, and left Biann and Kre to make their way up, too.
"You sure about this? I feel like I'm some kind of... dead weight."
"You're not a dead weight, Biann. I am happy to give you a lift. You coax wonders from any ship, and you bring a smile to everyone's face. Those are two gifts worth ten strong arms and ten strong legs."
"Okay... but I'm still buying you a drink next time we get the chance to. Non-alcoholic, of course."
Kre nodded, and crouched lower. When Biann was on her back, she wrapped her tail around the Hleen for extra security, and launched herself up half the distance in one go, grabbing the masonry and scratching for good purchase. She kept in reasonable shape, but recently her job with the Messenger had made sure she didn't get flabby.
A scramble, a push, and she was up. Kre dropped into a crouch to let Biann off, uncurling her tail slowly. The slighter woman jumped to the floor almost gracefully, and brushed herself off.
Kre was sorry for how unsettled Biann was. She had only offered aid out of respect, but the Hleen interpreted assistance much differently. Kre knew she should remember that, but it was hard to break the training of your formative years.
The shuttle looked big enough to pile twenty men in, if you were only dropping them and their rucksacks off for battle. It was shiny and new, and very, very expensive.
Biann whistled. "Wow. Never thought I'd see a Satyon II class. Who did you say you were again?"
"Waith," he said, and opened the side door.
Kre was pleased to see that there was only one other person on the ship, and that was a young, female Hleen pilot that she did not recognise. She nodded a polite greeting, then followed her old friend into the rear. Instead of decked out as a military or private security outfit in the back, it was instead all plush leather and sleek wood and metal tones: the height of comfort. There were even seats designed for Roq and Sianar, and it was in the latter that she chose to sit. She noted that Biann sat to her right, favouring her own dominant hand and Kre's. Conscious or not, it was a wise choice.
"I'll tell you more when we're airborne," the Hleen told them, with a thin-lipped smile.
Up they went, with the barest of purrs. Kre noticed that Biann was trying to hear the mechanical sounds, her eyes distant and her head canted in the way that said she was off with the electrons again. Hleens could hear much better than Sianar, whose primary senses were scent and motion sight, and she knew that her friend would be diagnosing efficiency and calibration right now. Much like Kre, she never stopped working.
"You need to dirty up the fuel, some," she announced.
"I beg your pardon?" Waith blinked at her, his purple eyes curious.
"You're using high-end stuff. The refined crap. It's okay, but you want a bit of build-up on some of your parts. Not too much, just enough. Trust me, mix in one part to eight at the next refuel, and you'll thank me."
"I would trust her, Maister," Kre said. "She knows her way around an engine in a way only a master craftsman can."
"I will make sure the flight technicians do that, then. Thank you, Biann."
"Was the ship meant to impress us? Win us over? Because if it was, you should know we're not mercenaries." The young woman crossed her arms over her chest, unconsciously lifting her assets in the process. "Ain't that right?"
"It was not meant to 'win you over', Biann," the Hleen answered, his face suddenly creased with amusement. "In fact, it is a little ostentatious for my own tastes, but my employers insist on a certain level of... 'dignity', in their eyes, and it does not hurt me to travel comfortably."
"Who are your employers now, Maister?" Kre asked.
"No, back up. Who are you, first, and how do you know Kre?"
He turned to the Sianar. "Would you like to answer, or should I?"
"I will. Biann, this is Maister Waith, a respected doyen of your people. You remember I said that I was tutored on all planets? Maister Waith was my primary tutor when I visited Aniba and other Hleen sectors."
Kre watched as the light went on in her friend's eyes. "Oh. In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you." She bit her lip, pondering.
"You can ask me questions, you know."
"Okay, thanks. Uh - Kre calls you 'Maister'. I've never met one, before. Knew they used to exist. Do I - uh -?"
"Do you call me Maister, too? Child, you only need to use that term if you are one of my students. It is a mark of respect that is bestowed when an agreement has been made between two parties. You may call me Waith. Indeed," the Hleen turned to Kre. "You have become a doyen of your own field, Kre-Tho. You no longer need call me 'Maister'."
"If it pleases you, I would still like to. You... taught me a great deal."
"Then as you wish, Kre."
"Okay," Biann said, when the silence got a bit too long. "So you used to teach Kre, and then Kre went off and became the science-guru we all know and love. And now you've come to find her because...?"
"Because you are both in terrible danger," Waith said, his voice utterly serious. "You might have vanished from your father's radar, briefly, but I've been keeping tabs on you. And things have been steadily worsening around you, Kre."
"If you are referring to the frequent attempts on my life, then I must agree, those have not been enjoyable," she remarked, drily. "But... why reach out to me now?"
"This is the first time we've been able to reach you in time to do any good. You've been surprisingly busy."
"Wait," Biann cut in. "Who is 'we' in this case?"
"My employer," Waith said. "You may have heard of her: Nessin."
Biann's eyebrows reached for her head-dress. "Nessin? As in: heir to the Tuadan Corp empire? That Nessin?"
"Yes, Biann. That Nessin."
"What in the hell does she want with us?"
***
[Sianor: I went for a walk today.]
[Ashroe: Oh, the outside world! It burns us, it burns us!]
[Sianor: I am not a vampire! Geez.]
[Ashroe: Sorry, I couldn't resist.]
[Sianor: Anyway, I took some nice snaps while I was out. And I made it down to the little coffee shop, and I'd took my laptop, so I sat and wrote a bit.]
[Ashroe: *perks up*]
[Sianor: It's just a few notes. I was thinking of - er - writing a book. If I could.]
[Ashroe: Oh noes, it's leaving us!]
[Sianor: I am not :) I just was thinking of... I don't know. I just felt inspired. Maybe it was the exertion making my head go crazy.]
[Ashroe: Can I see?]
[Sianor: Sure! I didn't want to presume.]
[Ashroe: Dude, cut it out. No need to tread delicately around me. You know where I live, remember? We're practically family.]
[Sianor: I'll share the doc with you. It's just... my head is so full of stories, now. Before they were all short, or snatches of something, but... now I feel so... ready. Like I'm on the cusp of something. Like it's just... a tune a little too low to hear, and if I just concentrate enough, then the noises will resolve into lyrics and a bass line.]