by Calista Skye
Allowing the waiting attendant to draw off his robe as he lowered himself into the rain waters, he quietly sighed at the feel of the warm Som sponge on his skin.
The suds of the Oua oil bubbled as the attendant spread it over his shoulders and down his chest, its heady scent blooming in the steaming ether circling his head.
He'd timed his early meal perfectly, sure that he'd avoid his father by at least a few minutes. Short enough to keep it from seeming obvious, but long enough to allow him the space he needed from the old brute.
He did that sort of thing every so often. It had begun as the tiniest form of rebellion, but now it was a sure, coping mechanism. A way to endure the pain of his position in the gargantuan shadow of an iron man who understood only power and the dogma of tradition.
Soothed in the warmth of the waters, he imagined his cares being washed away. Sometimes, that helped him. Today it at least calmed him, even as it failed to keep his mind from returning to the thing he was increasingly sure he must do.
His awareness had been pricked with the expectation of the enforcer's dreaded invitation to a formal inquiry since they'd boarded the pod, and every moment that stretched on made him ever more uneasy about it. Telerans were a displaced people who needed their heir apparent now more than ever. A formal inquiry and the charges that were sure to follow such a thing could ruin them and everything they believed in before they had a chance to get their feet under them and "rehabitate" with even a semblance of peace.
Something had to be done to avert it, to redirect the enforcer's direction, and Kesh was sure his father wasn't the man for the job – as blood-thirsty and clutching to tradition as he was at the very core of his being.
Drawing a stilling breath, Kesh succumbed as fully to the bath as he could allow himself to, willing all his cares to melt away for as long a moment as he could stretch. It was enough, if not permanent, and by the time he arrived at the table for his early meal, his mind was freshly ready to attempt another day without a circus of thoughts swarming his head.
Perfumed and pampered, he allowed the illusion of renewal to pervade his spirit as he picked at the Fushu on his shell, chasing it with the silver stick.
Mealtime hadn't been the same since they'd left Telera. The soft, whispered songs of the ancestors didn't follow them quite as much as they did on the surface of their home planet. It was all so hollow, he could barely make himself eat. He was consumed with a need to take action that he was sure would overcome him any second.
His head shooting up at the sounds of the alarms, Kesh grit his jaw and set his silver stick against the dining shell.
"Entering stealth mode. Please return to your quarters immediately," a tinny, robotic voice instructed. The AI in the command room. It was little more than an expensive warrior-bot assigned to the pod to protect them. Whatever had rustled its metal feathers couldn't be small.
Drawing a sharp breath, Kesh rose and pulled his robes taut around him, snatching up the scarlet box he'd set on the table's top before he exited. Glancing down the thin corridor leading to the launch seats, he returned the box to its sanctuary in his robe and made his way to the control room with a stoic tick of his chin. There were no quarters for the royal family at times such as this. When announcements like the previous were aired, they were meant to join one another where they could be ejected from the ship if it became necessary.
Meeting Tarik's eyes as he entered the space multi-lit by the many command buttons, he averted his gaze with a blank expression and assumed his assigned seat. Not that such seats would truly keep them alive for long if they needed to be launched. They'd have a half-span at most before they ran out of air, unless they happened upon a friendly vessel willing to beam them up.
Of course, that would involve uncloaking themselves, so they could be seen in the first place.
Better to wait and find out exactly what was making a visit to the control room necessary.
"Secure the door," the voice of doom announced at the entrance of the king.
Bristling before forcing himself to ease, Kesh folded his hands on his lap, staring out at the starless, black sea beyond the visipanels. His mother's perfume engulfed him, as did the unmistakable feel of her particular brand of worry.
If they'd just get on with it already...
As if hearing Kesh's silent wish, the king cleared his throat.
"We're unsure if we were detected before we went under the cloak, so we'll remain in the control room until we reach the Simiel quadrant."
As usual, his father was vague about the looming threat, and if history was any indication, that meant the situation was quite bad. Stealing a glance as his father took a seat, and mother beside him, Kesh caught her nudge the old brute, feeling the king's frown; it was so palpable.
Clearing his throat again, his father was a moment before finally coughing up the rest.
"There is an acquisitioner scout hiding behind the Monerel cluster. We've no way to tell if they've called for reinforcements."
"So we're sitting ducks who might or might not be-" Doon began.
"Still your tone."
Doon clenched his jaw, obviously straining against his instincts, his knuckles white as they clutched the arms of his seat. It was a moment before he reined his fire and sat back again in his harness. Kesh could tell by the way he met his mother's eyes that it was her assuring gaze that truly bridled his beast. He could not tell if his mother's assurance was based on anything substantial, but at least it seemed to calm his brother enough in that moment.
Eyes flicking at a movement to his side, Kesh saw his mother nudge their father again.
"There is... another matter."
Every eye in the room turned to the king, as if each one of them felt the seriousness of whatever he was about to reveal creeping around the edges of the already tense cage of conditions they'd been placed in.
But it was Tarik's eyes he met first.
"We've received a message from Telera One."
Tarik swallowed visibly.
"The Tavalar enforcer has requested your audience. The... investigation is unofficial, as yet, but if you refuse him, he will surely pursue the matter with seriousness."
Tarik forced a grin to his face, his eyes averting momentarily in a way only he could get away with as the heir apparent.
"He'll pursue the matter with seriousness no matter how I respond. The Tavalar are not known to be merciless, and his daughter has yet to be recovered."
Shala gripped Tarik's hand, and he squeezed back, never skipping a beat.
"Nonetheless, you must decide how you will respond."
Tarik was a long moment before answering.
"You are the king. I will leave the matter in your able hands."
The discourse died there. But the tension plumed the room with a life all its own, making the already dangerous prospect of an acquisitioner attack in so small a pod squeeze at every thought that passed through Kesh's mind, as well as, every breath he took.
If they made it to the Simiel quadrant, something would have to be done, quickly enough to relieve Tarik from the pursuit of the Tavalar enforcer. The enforcer's daughter would need to be returned to him, and the acquisitioners would need to be delivered to him, as well – either directly or by detecting their cloaked locations, as much of their warships as could possibly be gathered.
The apprehension of his father and resigned manner of his eldest brother told him neither of them could be counted on to ensure those things happened.
"Scout ship surveilling the area.Target set."
Kesh swallowed his pause, knowing the scout's curiosity had presented them with no other option. Vaporizing it was the only way. It would surely alert his brothers, but they would be gone before any of them arrived on the chance they hadn't been alerted already.
"Pulse cannon engaged, 60 waves south. 60, 59, 58, 57..."
And on the AI counted, drawing every one of them into a forward lean as they watched the scout slowly inch its way o
nto the screen in front of them.
"42, 41..."
Kesh clenched his fists.
"36, 35..."
His heart thudded in his chest. They'd be on the run now. There'd be no way they'd pass through this quadrant again until their pursuers, who were sure to arrive shortly, combed it clean and called off any wait for their return.
"22, 21, 20..."
That meant that Tarik could not travel through it, even if his father's wish was for him to attend the enforcer's interview. The enforcer's reaction to the news would be unpredictable.
Something, anything that would be effective had to be done.
"12, 11, 10..."
Kesh could not even hope to raise the point of the Rebirthing ritual's use here.
He'd be shut down.
And worse, they would remember the box he toyed with so often, and they would insist upon searching it. Then the sure key to their dilemma would be lost.
Still, something had to be done.
Something only he could, or would, do.
"2, 1... implosion."
3
Kesh
They watched as the scout's metal corpse, bitten by orange and red flames, burst into shards and shrapnel at the center of the visipanel screen. It did little to set any of them at ease, and none exchanged a word as they made their way out of the room at the click of the command room doors and father's permission to exit.
Kesh took the corridor to the high parlor, where he would await Jana, with the least telling expression he could manage. By all indications, his intentions went undetected. Not that any of them would surmise... but the slightest suspicion could compromise the privacy he needed to get the task done.
He would raise the girl.
He possessed both the power and the focus, and he was going to re-flesh the memotic. Give her back her form. But not under watchful eyes. He had to leave the pod at the first opportunity. And there was only one person he could count on to help him do it.
She'd do it for Tarik.
He knew she would.
Was counting on it.
Stealing a glance behind him, he slipped past the arch doors into the parlor's foyer, announcing his name before stepping through the swish of opening doors. Jana swept through several ticks later, arms folded tensely over her chest, her breath stuttering when she met his eyes.
"Kesh."
"Jana."
Leaned up against the vois game table, he gave her a nod.
"You're worried," she noted, thoroughly reading him with a sweep of her gleaming, violet eyes.
"It's quite safe to say we all are," Kesh answered, his lips setting into a grimace.
Jana held his gaze a long moment before a tick of recognition flickered to life in their depths.
"You cannot."
"I must."
Reaching into his robe, he retrieved the red box, holding it gingerly in his fingers as he lifted it.
"Tarik's salvation lays only in this."
Cutting her eyes at him, Jana drew a sharp breath, the tension in her quickly overtaken by the fire roaring to life in her blood. Kesh could sense the old wheels turning in her head. Her fists clenching with resolve eventually made her decision clear.
Swallowing his nerves, Kesh returned the box to its sanctuary in his cloak. The matter was larger than the both of them, but they were the pair who would carry it out.
Still pacing, Jana struggled visibly with her decision, letting an unsettling amount of time pass before she finally drew her steps to stop. Her head turned sharply toward Kesh then, and her violet eyes seared through him.
"We'll only have one shot at getting off the ship. You can do this from only a single strand of her hair?"
"I can."
Pressing her lips firm, she lifted her chin with a nodded tick.
"We must be quick."
4
Kesh
The drifter was far less luxurious than the royal pod, but Kesh wasn't concerned with sensual delights. Their only concern now was that they get off the ship and to the nearest civil station without detection or interception by either his father's agents or the acquisitioners. There was a way to get to Larlek Sho without backtracking through the Sok quadrant, but it was on the line of unallied territory, and perilous to travel without a cloak.
That left the grace of the spirits, and Kesh could only hope their plight would be found honorable in their eyes. Enough that they would shield the pair long enough to perform the ritual and secure the girl.
Eyes slipping closed behind the harnesses, Kesh fought to still his mind. He wasn't truly the emotional sort, not in the way of Doon, who was completely overtaken by his feelings and impulses.
But the magnitude of what he was about to perform utterly dwarfed his sense of self. Kesh was a studied adept in the arts of transfiguring.
He could raise and fashion the very molecules at the seed of things into grandiose manifestations matching his vision. But it was, in many senses, a forbidden art. Especially when it was focused on matters that crossed the line between death and life.
For that which has passed has a destination, surely.
Kesh frowned remembering his teacher's admonishments when the old seer had spotted the flames of curiosity burning a little too brightly in Kesh's eyes.
Death must not be tampered with without the blessing of the spirits, a blessing that has already been denied if life has left its vessel.
But that was a gray area in this instance.
It had to be. The girl had been disembodied, but not killed. Her body had only just turned towards death, but it was frozen in a kind of barely-decayed time freeze that no one aboard Telera One could suss out. Even the head of their medic team couldn't find a way to resuscitate the girl back into her body, and by then she'd fled to the secret compartments of the ship as a memotic. A spirit not yet met by a guardian spirit who would lead her to her next place of perception in the after-living world.
So the rules were not clear in this instance, and Kesh was next to certain the spirits would understand. He had to follow his gut as far as it went. With his back pressed to the wall as it was, there was no other option.
Quirking a brow at him, Jana flicked the old-fashioned switches on the control panel of the drifter, sending the first of the thrusters humming to life, and then the second. At the flick of the third, her eyes met Kesh's. A silent nod of understanding and resolve passed between them, and they pushed back against their seats.
Fully into the security of their harnesses, the drifter burst them into the deep ink of space. By the passing of three seconds, the king was sure to have been hailed by the ever-watchful AI stationed, from manufactured neck to head, at the center of the main control room board.
Kesh tried to put the realization out of his mind. Time was of the essence with more urgency than before. They had to make it past the belt of Klerien asteroids into the deep of the West Simiel quadrant, and they had to do it fast.
The AI was useless without father's commands, and by the time he wrapped his mind around it, they might have already made it past the line their hearts raced in their chests against like mad-ticking needles on a parlor clock.
Gritting his jaw, Kesh trained his breath, his mind straining to focus past the panic, past the notions of failure, past all the veils of fear attempting to discourage him away from the power he held in his grasp to actually get this done.
Because he could.
He could do this.
He'd come this far already, even convinced Jana – one of the most formidable minds of her age in Telera. This was right, and he was determined to win the polarizing battle attempting to split his consciousness in that moment. Pushing past his reserves, he held his resolve until the slowing of the drifter's speed alerted them to the leveling of their approaching descent into partially unallied territory.
It was Jana who cleared her throat first, breaking the small tension that had plumed the ether of the small compartment in the drifter's control roo
m.
"Perhaps we've made it. There's no sign of nets on our tail. That's something to be hopeful for."
Kesh fought against the thought that they weren't nearly out of trouble's way yet, and managed a small smile.
"We'll give thanks for that gift."
Unclasping his harness straps, he stretched, rolled his neck, and turned his eyes to the control board, stealing a glance up at the small visipanel they had to work with before meeting Jana's eyes.
"I should begin."
Jana gave him a sharp nod.
"You should."
A small burst of gratitude flared in his heart, and he slid from his seat, bending slightly out of the control room and into the first compartment of the slim drifter ship. It was smaller than a pod, but sufficient enough to house them for a short time. It would certainly give them the room they needed should the ritual... when the ritual was successful.
Flicking a switch on the wall panel, he swallowed his nerves and steeled himself, making his way over to the traveling trunk that contained the tools he'd need for the blessing request. It was no small ritual, but one he'd been called upon to assist with during several hard battles that the royal family had depended on to maintain their vigilance against several attempted invasions of Telera before the water took the land from their feet.
It wasn't a ritual he could forget if he wanted to.
His fear didn't lie in that. His pause lay in the possibility that the spirits would refuse him, leaving him and Jana to fend for themselves in perilous territory. Kesh tried his damndest to keep his thoughts trained on the best outcome possible, but there was no getting past the small tick of doubt at the back of his mind.
What if?
It sat in wait like a knowing phantom, watching his every move.
He had to remind himself that he was a believer. An adept. A student of the spiritual sciences. Whatever the spirits chose would have to be alright with him and Jana. They took a risk not simply to "get away" with the forbidden, but to plead with the ancestors for favor over a very gray area that lay between the royal family and a dilemma that could destroy their people before they had a moment to get firm footing beneath their feet.