The Exxar Chronicles: Book 03 - Acts of Peace and War

by Neal Jones

  Josh rolled his eyes.

  "You think I'm lying?"

  He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Come on, mom, they weren't that great. Miss Hosty thinks I'm suicidal or something."

  "Well, yes, the material was a bit darker than what I would have expected from someone your age, but I still liked them. So did your teacher."

  "Whatever."

  "By the way, how's Tjase? He hasn't come over lately. Did you two have a falling out?"

  "No, mom, we didn't have a fight. He's just..." Josh shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Just what?"

  "We just don't hang out that much anymore, I guess. It's not that big a deal."

  "Well, considering that you've started 'hanging out' with Chad Durnham, I think it is a big deal. Miss Hosty said he already has two demerits, and he doesn't sound like somebody who's a good influence for you."

  Josh sighed, shrugged, and stared at his creamed corn while he pushed it around his plate.

  "Well, as you would say, whatever." Mariah washed down her mac and cheese with another sip of milk. "I was thinking of inviting Chad and his parents for dinner next week."

  That got the reaction she was hoping for. Her son's head shot up. "What?? Why?"

  "Why not? I'd like to get to know your friends."

  "Mom, don't, okay? I'll invite him over for a game night, or something, but please don't have his parents over too. It would just be...weird!"

  "Why? How so?"

  "I don't know! I just would! Why do you always have to be friends with the parents of all my friends? Why aren't you still hanging out with Tjase's mom?"

  Mariah frowned as she drank her milk. "You're right. Siyri hasn't been over for awhile. I guess we just both got so busy and haven't had lunch together like we used to."

  "Well, there you go. Same thing for me and Tjase. We just didn't have that much in common, I guess."

  "So...would you like to have Chad over for a game night? Maybe next Friday? I'll make that pizza you like – from scratch, not this food processor crap."

  "No, mom!" Josh exploded, storming to his feet. "I don't want a stupid game night! I'm not ten anymore! Why do you keep treating me like I'm a little kid??"

  Mariah slammed her glass on the table, sloshing milk over the rim. "How do you want me treat you, Joshua? You barely say two words to me, and when you do, you swear at me!" She stood, towering over him and blocking the doorway. "I am your mother! I'll treat you with the same respect that you show me, understood??"

  Josh retreated to the far side of the kitchen, arms crossed, glaring at the floor.

  "I said, is that understood??"

  "Yes! Fine! Can I go now??"

  "No. Sit down. We're not done with dinner."

  Josh glared defiantly at her, refusing to obey, and Mariah allowed her telepathic ability to open just a crack. She had never tried to sense her son's emotions before, not since he was a baby. Her unique ability had created a special bond between them when he was young, giving her a special insight into his moods when he would come home from school after a bad day, or when he was sick, or when something was bothering him. But in the last couple years, as puberty set in, she had closed off her empathic talent when she was around him, afraid that her mental "scans" were intruding on her son's privacy. It was an irrational fear. Josh had inherited none of his mother's special ability – thank the gods – and so he had never detected her scans of his emotional states before. Nor was her talent strong enough that she could read his thoughts. Still, it felt wrong to try and sense his emotional state, as if she was manipulating him somehow. She had consoled herself with the assurance that he would come to her if he needed her, that it was better for both of them if she allowed him his space and "emotional" privacy.

  Now, staring at the angry, seething adolescent who had taken over her son's body, Mariah opened her talent and sent a gentle probe of Josh's emotional state. She needed to understand why he was so furious with her. She wasn't trying to treat him as a little kid, she just didn't know how else to respond to him. All she wanted was one or two civil conversations a day, was that too much to ask? Why did he treat her as if she was always intruding, always on his back about every little thing? Gods, she barely saw him face to face as it was. He was always locked away in his room, or out with his friends, and she'd lately begun to feel as if she and her son were living as strangers under the same roof.

  She "touched" his emotional wall, and, naturally, it raged with fire directed at her. She didn't need to be a telepath to see that he was broiling in the typical emotional maelstrom brought on by adolescence. Mariah winced, withdrawing her talent and locking it away. She sighed and shook her head, and then pointed to his chair. "Sit," she commanded quietly.

  Josh finally obeyed, but didn't pull himself up to the table. Mariah sat as well and reached for her milk. She drained the glass and set it aside.

  "I've had enough of your attitude, Joshua," she began, keeping her tone even and calm. "I don't know where you think you can get off treating me like you have been for the past few weeks, but it ends here tonight." She leveled her gaze at him, and then – acting upon a sudden inspiration – she opened up her talent again and gently "prodded" him once more. She narrowed her eyes, staring at his downcast, sullen expression, focusing her ability on it. She wasn't exactly sure what would happen, but she turned up the intensity of her mental probe just a bit. "Are you listening to me?" she asked.

  "Yes, mom," he muttered. "I'm listening."

  "Good. From now on, you and I will have dinner together every night. You can eat in silence and resent me all you want, but you will have your ass in that chair every night at eighteen hundred. Afterwards, you can go hang out with your friends, if you want, as long as your homework is done. Curfew, of course, is still at twenty-two hundred on the weeknights, twenty-three hundred on the weekends. And yes, I will want to meet every single friend that you hang out with. You can do whatever you want with them here or elsewhere – as long as you're not breaking station regs, but I will have faces and names. And I will also meet their parents. This is all non-negotiable. You don't like it, you find somewhere else to live. But that really isn't negotiable, either, so you're kind of stuck for now. This is just the way things are." Mariah paused, turning up the intensity of her probe a bit more. She could feel Josh's emotional state fluctuating, roiling, changing "color" the way a chameleon's skin might change if it was threatened or frightened. "Do we have an understanding?"

  Josh looked up, still glaring, still angry, and he nodded. "Yes. Anything else?"

  "No." Mariah "retracted" her talent and locked it back up. She stood, motioning to the door. "Now you may go."

  Josh skittered by her, his expression wary, as if he now realized that something didn't feel quite right, and after he was gone Mariah collapsed into her chair, closing her eyes. "Dear gods, give me strength," she muttered. She wasn't sure if it was the sedative she had added to the milk or her use of her telepathy to probe her son's emotional state, but she suddenly drained, exhausted. She stood, ignoring the dirty dishes, and left the kitchen.

  It was time for a long, hot soak in the tub and then an early bedtime. As she passed through the living room, she glanced over her shoulder into her son's room. Josh was laying on his bed, his back to the open door, his wireless earphones clamped firmly in place. Mariah felt a thread of guilt for using her talent on her son, but then she quickly erased it. It wasn't as if she could read his thoughts, after all. All she had wanted was a taste of the emotional bond she had once shared with her son, a bond that she had lost somewhere along the way, and hadn't realized until tonight just how deep that loss had wounded her.

  Her eyes stinging, she hurried into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

  ( 5 )

  Ben emerged from the bathroom to find Jen curled on her side of the bed, her book reader dangling over the edge in one hand, her eyes closed. He turned off the lamp, set the reader on her nightstand, and then crawl
ed into bed beside her. He snuggled against her, wrapping one arm around her waist and laying his head on her shoulder. He listened to her breathe, closing his eyes, inhaling the scent of her - lilacs and cinnamon. He smiled into the darkness at the memories those fragrances conjured forth. But his smile soon faded as he wondered why the two of them seemed to always be on edge lately. No matter what, it seemed as if they could never see eye to eye anymore, and the chasm between them that he thought had been bridged several months ago was apparently still there.

  Ben sighed, snuggling closer to his wife, and tried to match the rhythm of his breathing with hers. Just as he began to drift away, Jeremy's cry spouted from the com panel on the nightstand.

  Jennifer stirred, opening her eyes, but Ben whispered, "No. Stay here. I'll get him."

  He slipped out of bed and Jennifer rolled over, pulling the covers up around her, and had no trouble falling back into sleep. Nor was she surprised – albeit a little grateful – the next morning when she discovered her husband stretched out on the couch, Jeremy curled up on his chest once more, both of them sleeping peacefully.

  ( 6 )

  The incessant chirp of the comm panel eventually prodded Grax out of a sound sleep, and he slapped at the nightstand, finally hitting the correct spot on the panel after several attempts.

  "Yes, what?" he mumbled into his pillow.

  The computer's ever pleasant, syrupy voice replied, "You have an incoming transmission."

  Thalor sighed, forcing himself into a sitting position, and reached for his shirt and pants. He had long ago made a habit of sleeping in the nude since it offered the most comfort. He padded into his living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and sat behind his desk. He activated the computer terminal, and then pressed the flashing emblem in the lower corner of the screen.

  Solomon's scowling visage filled the screen. "You don't give up, do you, Thal?"

  "Good morning, Sol. My last communiqué got your attention, did it?"

  "How did you find out?"

  "I still have a few friends in the Nevala sector. Although none of them could tell me what it was you did to piss off the Rykon League. A one million deyl bounty on your head?? That's a lot of coin."

  "Yeah, no shit!."

  "Who put out the bounty? Draussen? Jaegin? It had to be one of the mob lords, right?"

  "It doesn't matter. I've decided to help you."

  "Oh really? What changed your mind?"

  Sol tapped several commands into his terminal. "I'm transmitting you coordinates. Meet me there in two days. We'll talk about it then."

  Grax smiled. "It's good to be working together again, Sol. Don't worry about the bounty. We'll take care of it."

  Sol gave a bitter laugh. "I hope you're right, Thal. If I die in that godforsaken sector, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your fuckin' life."

  "Goodnight, Sol."

  ( 7 )

  The three humanoids who had snuck aboard the station earlier that day had rented guest quarters on the same deck as the cabin where Doctor Moru had met his untimely and mysterious end. Now, deep into the station's "night", the trio gathered at the desk in the living room to access the computer terminal.

  "Mister Garrett is the chief engineer of this starbase," said the one sitting behind the desk. He was a bit taller than his companions, with a hint of a scar above his left eye.

  "That will make it difficult," said the one to his right, frowning. "We have two days before the Iiveri freighter arrives, correct?"

  The third one gave a surly nod. He was the oldest of the trio and hadn't said much during their trip from Morkred.

  "Then that should give us enough time to plan the escape route," said the second, leaning down to look over the first's shoulder. "We should take him from his quarters, say...this time tomorrow night?"

  "No," the surly one disagreed, scowling. "Security in the docking spheres is too tight. We will never get inside his quarters without being seen by surveillance nodes."

  "Then we use the transfield."

  "Are you a complete moron? It will be detected, just like it was when we first came aboard this morning!"

  "It doesn't matter. We give the freighter a specific time to dock, and then we snatch Garrett. By the time the security team responds the field will have dissipated, and there's no way for them to trace the source."

  "Assuming, of course," the first interrupted, "that it will take less than two seconds to stun Mister Garrett, neutralize his transponder, and drag him through the field. No, he's right. We need to find another way."

  Chapter 7

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  The exotic dancers were all male, and their bare chests glistened with sweat as they spun and gyrated about the floor in time to the music that drowned all other conversation among the lady empress and her guests. The ladies and handmaids cheered and applauded as servants moved among the tables, refilling wine glasses and offering up silver platters of appetizers and other delicacies. The celebration was being hosted by Larewyn in honor of the return of her childhood friend, the Lady Persys Kepthah who had been on a Tour of Mercy with the Daughters of Jha'Dar for the past three years.

  The song came to an end, and the dancers gave one final flourish of hands and feet before falling to their knees. The two dozen daughters of the noble houses of the court stood and applauded. Their mothers, the noble ladies, were off in another hall, having their own private dinner. Marija Tannit and Persys' mother, Katriel, were the guests of honor, of course.

  "Thank you for your entertainment," Larewyn said. "Go refresh yourselves, and when you come back, I want an encore of your first number."

  "Yes, your grace," the lead dancer said, bowing and smiling.

  "More wine!" shouted Persys. "I've been on a fast for three years, and I need to indulge." This produced laughter and more applause from the guests as Larewyn motioned to the servants to obey.

  The lady empress settled back into her cushioned chair at the head of the celebration hall and Persys curled onto her own seat next to Larewyn's. She held out her goblet for the servant to fill and then took a long draught.

  Larewyn smiled as she watched her friend wipe her lips. "You'd better pace yourself, sister. Aren't you supposed to be a Daughter of Jha'Dar?" The two women had been friends since infancy, and since each had no female siblings they had taken to calling each other 'sister' at an early age.

  Persys giggled and waved her hand dismissively. "I have just finished a very long and very arduous tour of the outer colonies where I have spent three years living among the poor, the diseased, and the dying. I have earned a night of celebration and rest."

  Larewyn laughed, shaking her head. "I'll never understand why you became a kurna – other than infuriating your father, of course."

  "What other reason does there need to be?"

  Larewyn's smile faded as she sipped her tea. Persys noticed the change in her mood and leaned closer. Around them, the other ladies continued to eat and drink, while their handmaids waited close by, sharing their own plates of food and wine as their masters allowed. The strains of a classical waltz drifted from hidden speakers.

  "What troubles you, sister?" Persys asked.

  Larewyn forced a smile, as if suddenly aware that her mask of geniality had slipped. "Nothing. I'm just a little tired, that's all." She rubbed her belly again, which seemed to grow larger by inches every day.

  "Ah, of course. May I?" Larewyn nodded, and Persys reached out to tentatively rub her friend's stomach. "You're due anytime now?"

  "I wish," Larewyn sighed. "There's still another six weeks to go."

  "You look so beautiful," Persys said wistfully.

  "No, I don't," Larewyn objected sheepishly. "I feel as large as a sea oelm."

  "No, seriously, you are glowing, and I'm not just saying that because I can't have any of my own."

  "Oh, lords, how thoughtless of me –" the lady empress started to apologize.

  "No, no, it's all right,
sister. You know me. I never wanted any of this." She waved her hand at the room. "Being a wife, submissive to a husband, keeping house – I wanted none of it. I still don't." She leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "As much as I despise bandaging bloody wounds and praying over the sick and dying, I do love the travel and the life of solitude. Plus, everyone is always eager to offer up their home and their supper tables to Daughters of Jha'Dar."

  "Oh," Larewyn sighed longingly. "I would give up every gusitt in my purse, along with my name, to be able to live your life."

  "Shame on you, Lare! Don't let your mother hear such talk!"

  The two women giggled, and Persys motioned to the steward to fill her goblet again. "Seriously, though, aren't you happier here than in Darshon? At least Marija must be happier, and that's got to be better for you."

  "Oh, no, if anything she's worse. She's by my side all damn day – and at night too. I've already wondered if I should move my parents' quarters to another wing of the palace. She frets over me and this baby as if she was my husband."

  "No!" Persys laughed, shaking her head.

  "Yes!" Larewyn reached for a piece of vynt from her plate. "I'm not sure which is more stressful at this point – trying to get the nursery finished before the baby arrives, or keeping my mother busy with other chores so I can get some peace and quiet."

  The background music faded, and then a fresh fanfare burst from the hidden speakers. The Inepole dancers returned, whirling into the hall from all sides, and the ladies wildly applauded, drowning out Persys' next words. She turned, joining in the applause, and Larewyn leaned back against her seat cushions to enjoy the show. But her merriment, for the most part, was feigned.

  Later, after dancers bid their farewells and the dessert course was cleared away, Larewyn stood to bid her own farewell to her ladies of the court. They left the hall in the company of their handmaids as the servants set about clearing away the wine goblets and empty plates. Persys helped Larewyn down from her seat, and the two of them wandered into the Glass Gardens. The night sky was clear and full of stars, and the moonlight reflected off the walls and roofs of the greenhouses that gave the gardens on this side of the palace their name.