by Gwynn White
“I’m hardly enamored.” Vengeance sat and held out his hand for Renee’s now forgotten energy web. “But fine, if it makes you happy, I’ll complete the survey. Not that it will do any good. I’m unmatchable.”
He glanced down and merged with the data feed, mentally scanning the questions.
“I thought this was a compatibility questionnaire, not a psychiatric evaluation,” he said.
“Just answer them,” Renee sighed.
Ven glanced up at her and sighed, too. “It wants to know if I hope to have children one day, and there isn’t a ‘No, because I’m not human,’ option.”
“And if you were?”
“If I were, I’d be long dead and wouldn’t have to be taking this damn survey.”
“Answer,” Renee ordered.
Ven grunted in response but answered “no.” As he read the next question, he really wished he’d just gone to the meeting and left his link alone. “Renee,” he groaned.
She gave him an innocent look in return. “It’s a fair question.”
“I thought this questionnaire would ask me if I preferred blondes or brunettes, not if I had any sexual kinks.” He’d never really cared about hair color until recently, but he suddenly had a strong preference for brunettes.
Renee snickered and shrugged. “You can keep that answer to yourself. I really don’t want to know.”
Ven glared at her for a few moments before selecting “no” again. “What are you looking for in a relationship?” he read aloud.
Renee sat back in her chair and smiled at him. “Considering how you answered the last question, I’m guessing ‘Someone to dominate me’ isn’t what you’re going for here.”
Ven blinked at her then said, “Please don’t ever say that again.”
“It’s a better answer than ‘true love,’” she joked.
“Everything is a better answer than your initial guess.”
She flashed him a mischievous smile and told him, “Oh, believe me. I can make this weirder.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I can’t answer this question because I’m not looking for anything. You made me take this survey.”
Renee rolled her eyes and gestured toward the energy web. “Fine. I’ll input your response for you, and I’m thinking the real answer is ‘I’m looking for a young, pretty engineer who likes to take control—”
“Okay!” Ven exclaimed. “I put in ‘companionship.’ You can shut up now.”
Renee shot him that mischievous grin again as he quickly went through the remaining questions, anxious to end this entire experience. After he input his last response, Renee’s fingers flew over the energy web’s display surface, tapping a few final notes, then she sent it off along the network to the nearest relay node. “There, all finished. That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“I suppose not,” Vengeance agreed as he sent his own bit of code to the long range relay node and watched with more satisfaction than was likely warranted as his malicious bit of code devoured the compatibility survey, leaving no trace of it behind.
No, that wasn’t painful at all.
“Vengeance! You didn’t!” Renee cried.
Humor flickering through his primary core, Vengeance severed the mental link with his oldest friend and smiled at her. “I’ll take care of my love life myself, Renee.”
And he’d start by seeing what new scenarios he could come up with to test his favorite Journeyman Engineer.
4 months before Flicker
Rebecca Rode
Gypsy interview 12-5-2104 10:31-10:39 Earth Standard
Interviewer: Kar Sanchez
Position: Border contingent reporter
Language: Common
Project: “Earth’s Last Residents” (Empire Transmission)
Subject agreement: verbal
Transcription: Inon Bure-Hormel Gwauld
Just speak into that mic, there.
This thing is awkward. The clip doesn’t hold very well.
My apologies. Hopefully it’ll hold until we’re done with our interview. As I told you, I’m with the border contingent and we make it our mission to understand living conditions on the furthest reaches of the realm. Thanks for agreeing to speak with me today.
Well, I need the money, so . . .
Right. Well first, what's your name?
Ember.
I mean your full name.
That’s a little personal.
Ah, all right. Ember is fine. Were you born here at Argyle Beach?
Yes. My company settled here about twenty-five years ago.
And you’re how old?
Nineteen Earth years.
Now you’re a gypsy, correct?
No, that’s not correct. Calling me a gypsy is like me calling you an alien. I mean, it’s true, but tactless. We’re Roma. Have been for centuries.
I see. Roma it is then. And your people were wanderers until the Great Exodus, as far as I understand.
We were a migrant people, true. But that wasn’t always by choice. Most governments tolerated us for a while and then forced us to move on.
And the exodus? How did having almost all of Earth’s population leave over an eight-year period affect your people, and why settle here?
Well, you have to understand one thing. When the exodus started, we were living in eastern Romania near the Black Sea. The neighboring countries paid the Romanian government almost a billion dollars to take us in, then we got herded together in a huge mass on land nobody wanted. So a lot of them left to find jobs and education elsewhere. We went from almost three million strong to a few hundred thousand. It only took a few generations for most of our traditions to die out. So yeah, when the Great Exodus happened, it made sense to find a better life for ourselves. A simpler life, somewhere we could live in peace without being forced to move. This was the best place my ancestors could find.
So there are Roma descendants across the galaxy, then. Do they ever come back to visit?
Ha. No, you don’t become a gadje and then expect to return and pretend nothing ever happened. Our high standards protect us. We stick together, even if it means shunning those who once shunned us.
I see. And this is your job, then? Telling fortunes?
I call it future-reading. Want a demonstration? It’s only fifty credits.
Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m curious, though, because I’ve heard good things about your work. Apparently you have a lot of repeat business?
Many customers say my predictions have come true, yes.
And it’s through those tarot cards you’re holding, correct? An ancient gypsy—I mean, Roma magic?
(A pause.) Uh, yes. Same as it’s been for generations.
Now I apologize if this is a personal question, but I see your hair is down and unbraided while other women—some much younger than yourself—wear it in braids. I’ve heard it signifies marital status. Is that true?
I’m not discussing that. Next question.
Uh, all right. I’ve also heard Roma families are large—some with six, eight, twelve children. Is that still the case?
Nah. Our families aren’t as large as they were in centuries past. The average is probably five.
So you have brothers and sisters then, I’m assuming. Are they in the village?
Oh, no. It’s only me. My mother, she—she wanted more but couldn’t.
A shame. Now were both your parents Roma? I noticed that your skin is lighter than the others, and you speak Common so well. Do you have outsider blood in your heritage?
Not answering that either. I’ll give you a deal on the reading, though. Forty credits.
Uh, let me think about it. It sounds like you’ve never been off the planet, Ember. If you could go anywhere in the realm to visit, where would you go and why?
If I wanted to leave, I would have done it by now. From what I hear, there’s nothing worth seeing out there anyway.
(Gasp) Nothing worth seeing? Don’t you have
any desire to experience other worlds and other cultures? Other ways of life? I mean, I can see the appeal of staying here for tradition’s sake, but your quality of life here is, uh, substantially below everywhere else.
I know Earth’s not what it once was, but for me, it’s home. I’ve seen enough of humankind to know simplicity is better than luxury.
So you’re perfectly fine doing this forever—working in a marketplace, reading tourists?
Of course.
And that’s the truth?
Why wouldn’t it be?
Very well. Thanks for answering my questions today, and I wish you the very best.
Yep. Just take this thing with you. (fumbles with mic)
THE END
* * *
Want more free stuff from this author? Join Rebecca’s reader club and get TWO FREE BOOKS in the Numbers Game series! http://smarturl.it/ngnews
REBECCA RODE is the international bestselling and award-winning author of the Numbers Game trilogy, the Ember in Space series, and numerous novellas. She is also a freelance journalist. Her articles have appeared in Deseret News, KSL.com, Family Share, and Provo Daily Herald, although her true love is writing for teenagers. Rebecca has four children, two cats, one husband, and a ridiculous number of books.
Visit her at http://AuthorRebeccaRode.com.
The Engagement of Dothylian Solvei and Wilmer Zervek
Mind Raider Extra Content/Alternate Point of View
S.M. Blooding and P.K. Tyler
**Mind Raider is a PG-13 read, however, this excerpt is attended for mature audiences only**
1
Dothylian Solvei arrived at the midsection market just as dusk warmed the city in its orange glow. The two suns dipped low near the water as the rainbow spectrum ring around Terra Qar spun lopsided in the sky. Dothylian used to imagine she could see steam rising from the point where the loess met the sea. One of her many childish delusions that irritated her parents and delighted her tutor. Thanks to him, she’d learned when and where to indulge in such thoughts. Now was not one of those times.
The market was full of lanterns that gave it an old-fashioned feel. No teleport vehicles were permitted on this level so everyone, no matter their status, had to walk and carry their purchases. Many of the upper echelons complained about having to rub elbows with the lower class, but this was the city of Q’ian’Set. Even the lowest class servants here would rank higher than the average spacer or terran. Besides, most of the people who complained the loudest never came to the market, instead sending others to do their shopping. Dothylian couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to see so much life in one place.
Even dressed in a bright orange layered tunic that cascaded to the ground behind her and golden skin-tight pants, she did not stand out. Certainly, she pulled a number of looks, but that was likely because everyone here knew of her impending contract. Her blonde hair was pulled back so that curls swam down from the crown of her head to the base of her spine. She wore only one adornment, the yellow gem Kadira Saaqqaf had given her was secured to a headpiece which allowed it to dangle in the center of her forehead. The overall effect in the evening light made her look like an incarnated star, a fireball walking amongst the people.
She arrived at the low-lit noodle bar before having to leave to meet the Zervek’s and was ushered to a table reserved for them. As she sat, she adjusted the knives strapped to her thighs and shins and wished they were more than merely ornamental. The one on her left leg didn’t even have a blade. The handle was attached directly to the halter. Such was her family’s fortune, all show and no sharp edge with which to wield power. Perhaps if she had been trained to fight like other elite children and had a well-balanced and cared for blade, she could kill her intended without Kadira’s help.
What was she thinking, actually entertaining the idea of helping Kadira Saaqqaf? The woman who had run when she should have stayed.The woman who had abandoned her duty.The woman whose actions led directly to her sister’s death.
Now that she found herself in the position of marrying into the Zervek family; the notion of running away – damn the consequences – didn’t seem so unreasonable. Kadira Saaqqaf had brought more trouble with her than she appeared to be worth. What benefit was there to helping the woman for Dothylian herself?
A servant approached with a bowl of thick black noodles submerged in broth and filled with off-world vegetables. The woman silently placed the food before her with a bow and departed backward to avoid turning her back until she was further away.
Dothylian dipped a piece of thick bread into the bowl and soaked up the broth before putting it into her mouth. Her eyes closed as she sucked out the juice.
She wished she had friends she could speak plainly with, but all she had were the daughters of other families who discussed trivial things while glancing at her with alternating looks of pity and relief that her fate did not befall them. More than anything she wanted to call her tutor. But that would appear improper. What could a contracted bride need to talk to her tutor about? Her education had only lasted this long to keep her busy, and no one knew about what she had learned or that her tutor had provided her a purpose in life.
Master Edqqin had been her tutor since she was nine years old. Previous to that, every tutor her parents brought in deemed her too stupid to teach because she simply wouldn’t speak to them. It was a mystery to her parents because she had learned to read full texts by the age of three and the tutors had no problems with her sister. What they didn’t realize was that Dothylian had, in fact, judged them to be too stupid to teach her.
At age nine, Edqqin was engaged to be her private tutor. Odelle would continue with the traditional curriculum all elite learned and attend gradewide functions and seminars as appropriate in the city. Dothylian, however, was to study one-on-one with the kind of educator only this highest of the elite could afford. The arrangement surely contributed to her parents’ debt, but Dothylian couldn’t regret it. Edqqin had changed her life.
The first day he arrived, Dothylian knew he was different.
He stepped into the library and shut all the surveillance cameras and listeners down. He didn’t simply turn them off but unplugged, disassembled, or simply broke them all. Then he sat down on the firm settee made of a soft fabric that adjusted to the body, put his feet up, and closed his eyes. The man stayed like that for two hours with his arms crossed on his chest.
Dothylian stubbornly sat and watched.
He stood promptly at the end of the session, bowed to Dothylian, and exited the room.
Dothylian had been intrigued.
The next day, promptly at 10 AM, Edqqin arrived and checked that his surveillance vandalism hadn’t been undone, and resumed his position on the couch.
This time, Dothylian did not sit and wait. She approached him, studying his wizened face and realized he was much younger than he initially appeared. Age brought with it an air of refinery amongst the elite because only the exceptionally old or those completely uninvested in politics would ever allow it to show. She watched as his steady breathing continued even as she stared. His long orange tunic hung down to his knees over dusty green pants. She wanted to touch the material. It appeared so rough to her spoiled eyes. Instead, she slipped soundlessly out of her slippers and placed her feet within the clogs he had slipped off before lying down.
A giggle rose up inside her at the idea of growing up to be like this inconceivable man. To truly not care what people thought of his behavior or age! To be so completely free. She took a tentative step, trying to maintain the silence in the room but soon gave up and allowed herself to clomp about the space, the bubble of laughter bursting forth like it would a child without all the expectations that had been placed upon her. For the first time in her young life, she felt normal.
“You aren’t asleep,” she said when she ended her game and removed the shoes.
“No.”
“You weren’t asleep yesterday either.”
“How could yo
u tell?” Edqqin’s eyes remained closed.
“Your breathing was even and slow, approximately twelve breaths per minute. The rate didn’t fluctuate significantly which would happen in a normal sleep cycle. Also, the sleep breathing pattern is typically more rapid and shallow than when awake, contrary to your assumption.”
Edqqin opened one eye and stared at her. “But I was so still.”
“Too still. Few people sleep without any movement.”
He closed his eye again. “And how do you know this information.”
“Observation and research.”
“You’ve researched the average respiration rate of a healthy adult awake versus asleep?”
“Only in conjunction with other interests, so while my answer is yes I can’t say I’ve done a complete investigation.”
Edqqin sat up and placed his socked feet on the floor. “Do you speak to your parents the way you speak to me?”
“No.”
“Your sister?”
“Sometimes, but she gets annoyed or bored.”
“Your other tutors?”
“Never.”
“Then why me?” He pulled his legs up under him in crisscross position and leaned toward her, looking more like a bearded troll than a tutor.
“You disabled the surveillance.”
“Perhaps I did that so no one would catch me sleeping instead of working.”
“But you weren’t sleeping.”
“What was I doing?”
“Watching me.”
“With my eyes closed?”
“Your ears were open.” Dothylian smiled and came to sit next to Edqqin on the settee.
“There is no better way to observe than to do so without the subject knowing they are being observed.”
“True, but I did know.”