by Brandon Hill
“Think nothing of it, Jules. It’s not something you would know about. In fact, it’s something my people would rather keep a secret. You see, we are no strangers to prejudice, even amongst our own kind. Oh, I admit that its affects are nowhere near as harsh or as far reaching as those in your people’s history, but it is present. And when I took Sari as my li-ah, I was met with my fair share of disapproval.”
“Because she had white hair?” I asked, still not comprehending.
“White hair is a sign of sickness,” Agura remarked grimly. “And Sari was of quite frail health. I was much like you, at first, Jules, in denial of my feelings and afraid of what people would think of me if I made her mine. But time made me only want her more, and made me bolder as I discovered that she wanted me. When she at last became my li-ah, I lost all my fear, and made it no secret how in love I was with her. No one approved of this, of course, but Sari was alone. She had no one who pursued her, and her pheromones were too weak to attract humans. I underwent the rite of Na’li with her, but I was afraid of our having children. She was often sick, but I stayed by her side. Still, she wanted so badly to give me a child.”
“And so I was born,” Sar’vana said in a quiet voice that carried the same weight of sadness as her father’s.
“And she died,” I said, recalling the part of the story that I knew.
“The birth was … difficult. Sari never fully recovered. Had I not had Vani with me, I fear I would not have survived either. But I tell you this, Julius Galway-Na’li-Van, I never regretted even one moment with Sari. When I held little Vani in my arms for the first time, all my fears and insecurities vanished. Sari and I were just too happy, even though she did not live to see this day.”
He took his glass, and raised it before me, and Sar’vana and I did the same. “I wish you and my daughter all the happiness life can bring. You deserve it. Even after ten years of separation, the bond between you has only strengthened, and friendship has become love.”
Sar’vana and I drank with him. All the while, I was surprised, but nevertheless happy at how he used my name in the formal Felyan way, now that I had taken Sar’vana as my lifemate.
“Oh, father, you’re embarrassing him,” Sar’vana cast a loving grin my way. Indeed, I felt my face becoming hot at Agura’s accolades and well-wishes, but I couldn’t help but be glad that he so heartily approved our union. And being as forthcoming as he was with the story of his lifemate, it had surprised me indeed to find a kindred spirit in him. If I had not respected him as much before, I found my respect for him to have indeed grown that day.
12
No sooner had we finished eating than Gar and Sara joined us to escort us back to the transport room. On the way there, I could not help but feel a sort of growing unease. I supposed that Sar’vana was aware of my apprehension, as she squeezed my hand just a little more tightly, and walked beside me somewhat closer.
“It will be all right, my li-ah,” she assured me with a tender smile. “You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said. “I would hate for the Empress to be brought into this.”
“Empress?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you think that she would become involved?”
“That’s what the ambassador said.”
“Did he now?”
“He said it was possible.”
Sar’vana giggled. “What else has he been telling you, I wonder?”
“You don’t think he’s serious?” I was nonplussed by her reaction.
“Oh, he’s serious,” Sar’vana said, “But I certainly don’t agree with him.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” I said with a vague frown.
“You’ve never seen father in action,” Sar’vana said with confidence in both voice and expression.
The sense of weightlessness engulfed me with the blinding light, coupled with a change of scenery, from the organic, alien, and fresh-smelling, to the artificial, familiar, and faintly acrid-smelling corridors of New Valis. The hallway we transitioned to in that flash was stately and well-furnished, with flags of the one hundred remaining cities of Zynj lining the walls towards a well-polished and doubtless expensive wooden door.
“Halt!” said a voice directly behind us, which was accompanied by the sound of multiple heavy, boot-clad footfalls. No sooner than we turned around, we found ourselves surrounded by several guards who had filed in from an adjacent corridor, several yards in the opposite direction. Gar and Sara held their pikes at the ready, teeth bared, but then stood down at a signal from Agura. They did this reluctantly, still warily eyeing the guards, who had not yet lowered their own sidearms. Taken by a notion that perhaps the Council had tricked Agura into coming here to forcibly detain him, I fought down a wave of panic as Sar’vana squeezed herself closer to me. My left arm reflexively wound about her hip while my right hand searched my belt for my knife, which was painfully absent. Nevertheless, I stood still as stone, waiting, curious, but more afraid, and at the same time, surprised and fascinated at my fear. These were my people, my planet; these were humans … and yet, I felt like nothing more than a stranger here.
“What is the meaning of this?” Agura growled. I saw his red-eyed gaze sweeping the retinue of guards, most likely searching for the commanding officer. “I’ve come on urgent business in the name of An’re’hara and the Felyan Empire. This is a violation of my diplomatic immunity. I demand that you explain yourselves at once!”
“Your visit isn’t the problem we have, director.” A tall, muscular man with chiseled features indicative of a long life in the military stepped forward as the guards broke ranks. He wore the same black and gray uniform as the rest of his company, but stitched in a different way, and with a red ribbon on his shoulder, marking his supervisory rank. I felt droplets of cold sweat run down the back of my neck as I saw his pale eyes focus hard upon me for a brief moment. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a set of official-looking papers. “The human you have in your midst –Julius Galway– doesn’t have your immunity. And he’s wanted for questioning by the Council.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Agura said with finality. “Mr. Galway has requested political asylum. He is under my protection. I have brought him as a key witness in our registry of formal grievances. According to our contractual agreement, any human that has requested asylum with my people possesses our immunity as long as he is accompanied by a Felyan representative.” He gestured vaguely to his daughter and the twin guards. “I see at least three.”
The leader of the guards pursed his lips, as if mulling the situation over in his head. His eyes narrowed as they remained pressed upon me, and then his expression soured into a look that bordered on disgust. I forced back what would have been a smug grin, He did not have a legal leg to stand on, and he knew it. He could try to take me by force, but I was certain that it would have ended badly. This man was no fool.
“See that he stays … accompanied,” the guardsman sneered. He then snapped his fingers, and pointed in the opposite direction. Immediately, the guards lowered their guns and made a uniform about-face, after which the entire company headed back the way they came.
Agura growled until they all vanished around the corner. I looked, and saw Gar and Sara doing the same thing, baring their teeth. And yet, somehow, the director looked more intimidating than the two large, armed Hara’Kya Felyan guards. “I don’t like this at all,” he said once the guards vanished around the corner. He fixed me with a gaze that was analytical, rather than accusatory, and was mixed in with some wonder. “Why would they specifically come after you?” He asked.
“Well, I did break out of a hospital after being sentenced,” I mused, “not to mention the problem with getting into the room with whatever those guys put on the door, unless you removed it for them. They would’ve figured out something was wrong once they managed to get into the room and found me not there, to say nothing of the blood.”
“But it was like they knew you’d be here,” Sar�
�vana said. “A retinue of escort guards is commonplace for father’s arrival, but this was a … a …” She frowned, searching the air for the right words.
“Posse?” I suggested.
“Yes! A posse. They came specifically to haul you in for questioning, armed, and with weapons drawn. That’s never happened to us before, on any world.”
“I figured as much,” I said, recalling the look of surprise on Agura’s face at the sight of the militiamen. “And you’re just as clueless as I am as well, Agura?” I turned towards the dark-furred Felyan, holding on to some vestige of hope.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Agura said, nodding to our guards, who followed as he led the way to the door. Sar’vana led me along hand in hand, and I kept pace with her.
The door was about seven feet high, built shamelessly of pure, solid wood, and with only an ID panel besides its right hand post. Agura placed his hand upon it, and the door did not swing open the way I expected. Rather, like most doors in the cities, it slid open.
The light on the other side was a bit more subdued than that of the hallway, but it was not so dark that I couldn’t see what lay on the other side. I had watched news reports of the goings-on in political sessions among the Council of Elders. A gong sounded, announcing our entrance, and Agura strode in, followed by us.
“Stop when father stops,” Sar’vana instructed me confidentially. “Speak only when spoken to; don’t let them bait you into getting angry, or saying more than you ought. If you must answer any questions, answer them exactly, no more, no less. Otherwise, let father and I do all the talking.”
I nodded, my eyes taking in the sight of the council chambers. Most things were laden with wood –real wood, like the door. The benches where the aged elders sat like a row of gray cloaks and graying beards, their tables, banisters, and podiums, were all beautifully lacquered in a fine golden brown and affixed to flooring that was softened by rich purple carpeting. The chamber was oval shaped, and a massive gold and crystal chandelier hung from its center. A green banner hung suspended upon ropes from the wall, coming together at the dais at the chamber’s far end, where smaller versions of the flags of the allied Colonies hung beneath a large flag of Zynj, its black angular, vaguely S-shaped symbol in the set amidst a field that was the same shade of green of the encircling banner.
“Now that director Agura van has arrived, we shall get to the business of this emergency session,” I heard the Speaker of the Elders say in a mildly annoyed, almost nasal tone. Agura brought us to a row of benches near the dais. He sat, and Sar’vana and I followed suit. Only the guards remained standing.
“Director, you stand accused of encouraging the defection of multiple citizens of Zynj,” the director said.
My jaw fell open -as did Sar’vana’s, I noticed. Gar and Sara growled in fury, their gazes hard upon the implacable face of the Speaker, whose expression was as unwavering as the stiff black and gray bristles of his beard. Instantly, I felt a seething hatred towards this man. Although I had no idea what he was talking about, it was as if I could feel the manipulation in his voice. The bastard was trying to re-direct the subject of this meeting from what truly mattered. I heard a murmur ripple through the assembled elders, but was unable to gauge the emotion of it.
Agura seemed eerily calm in the midst of such outrage. My gaze fell upon him as he quietly gestured for us to remain calm.
“Defection, Elder?” Agura said innocently.
“Multiple reports of miscegenation between your people and our citizens have been reported during your stay here,” the Speaker said, lifting a wire-bound stack of papers prominently. He laid them heavily upon the podium, the papers making a loud thud as he continued. “The accused have all requested political asylum, which you have granted. You deny the accusations?”
His words were followed by a wave of assenting murmurs from the other Elders. Partly out of curiosity and partly in an effort to avert my gaze from the visage of Speaker, I tried to spot the New Valis Elder in the assembly, but was unable to locate our telltale three-star flag upon the left breast of their uniformly gray robes.
“I would like to know what you mean by ‘defected,’ Agura said, “and how you came to accuse me of facilitating their defection. Also, I would like to know what laws I have broken in allegedly doing this.”
“The people who have requested asylum are citizens of Zynj!” the Speaker shouted. “Productive members of society!”
“And by ‘productive,’ you mean ‘fertile,’” Agura retorted. “Am I right?”
“So you admit to the charges?” the Speaker said, blatantly ignoring the question.
“Charges of what?” Agura’s placid tone, I was almost certain, was maddening to the Speaker. “I am aware that some humans have taken Felyan mates during our stay here, and have chosen to remain with us.”
“Aren’t your workers supposed to apply pheromone blockers to prevent humans from falling prey to Felyan attraction?” the Speaker asked.
“Yes, they are,” Agura answered. “But I cannot account for all my workers who are lax in such a thing. We have found out some who have intentionally neglected application, and they have been reprimanded accordingly. Also, the blocking chemical, as you well know, is not one hundred percent effective. Besides, our people find humans quite attractive, and if they are fortunate enough to find a human mate, even here, that is their prerogative. If that mate chooses to defect to our government’s care, then we are under no obligation remand them to your custody unless it is for activities that we deem criminal. In fact, to us, separating them would be the crime.”
The Speaker glared at Agura with a sullen look, mirrored by nearly all of the Elders present, but no words escaped his mouth.
“Also, seeing how they will still lead ‘productive’ lives on An’re’hara, I think it would be best to honor their requests for asylum, knowing what awaits them, should they be turned over to you.”
A sudden, torrential cacophony of objections broke out among the Council. I tried not to show fear at the faces twisted in appalled fury, and to follow Agura and Sar’vana’s stoic façade, but it was hard amidst jeers and calls for their removal from the chambers, and demands for far worse.
“Furthermore…” Agura paused, frowning deeply, as the Speaker, after some effort, brought a tenuous order to the assembly. As the din of enraged protest died down, Agura raised his voice to a controlled shout. “Furthermore, you are in no position to demand anything of us. As you know, in all the years of our relationship, neither I, nor any of my colleagues or predecessors have ever used our standing for leverage. We have considered such a practice as beneath us. But with this outrage, you have forced my hand. Need I remind you that my people have given you the means to continue your survival on this ruined world out of nothing less than the kindness of our hearts? Your people are, for all intents and purposes, recipients of charity. You have neither the means to repair any severe damage to any systems we have installed, nor do you have the means to replicate the technology. But we have neither asked for, nor demanded anything from you in exchange for the products and services that we provide.”
“How serendipitous of you to say such a thing,” the Speaker said. I noticed that he had made a casual glance at a small group of Elders seated in one of the nearby tiers of chairs, who nodded. I saw a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke on. “It just so happens that we have stumbled across a solution to that very problem.”
“A solution to what problem?” Agura said. I noticed that Gar and Sara had not stopped bristling, though neither of them had moved.
“The problem of you.”
The speaker’s grin was smug in a way that made me want to physically tear off of his face. And my pent-up rage did not seem to go unnoticed by the Elders, who made their own mockingly amused chuckles. These were men whom I grew up seeing as protectors and father figures, and the keepers of order in our society. But now I saw the ugliness of just how deep my people’s hatred for Felyans went. Our planet might harbo
r safe conditions in the tin cans that we called cities, but in reality, the outside environment was not the only place where poisons resided. The Felyans gave our world life when my ancestors lay on the verge of death from the final attacks of the war that they started. Felyan medicines and technology prevented us from an entire generation dying of cancers, and giving birth to barely viable mutated freaks … and our benefactors had asked for nothing in return! The Elders should have felt honored for their generosity. Instead, Felyans were ridiculed in slights and offhand remarks. And now, our governing body, and especially the Speaker, showed a new, open hostility toward them that I was certain had not existed before. But I could not understand why.
The entrance doors opened at a command from the Speaker, and a stranger marched in with an entourage. These flanking guards wore armor that was styled in a fashion different from anything I had seen before. It had a more stylized, ancient look to it, like pictures of medieval full plate armor that I had seen in school textbooks and in storybooks as a child, except it was black, and far less crude, with joints and plates that were streamlined and shone brightly in the chandelier’s light. The stranger wore a concealing robe of red silk, with the inclusion of a veil that covered everything but a set of blue eyes: female eyes, large and expressive with long full lashes.
I had wondered where they had all come from until the insignia on the right shoulder plate of the guards’ armor caught my attention. Sar’vana, however, said it before I could.
“Pirates…”
The ebon skull and double planet rings were unmistakable, and filled me with a sense of mixed shock, fear, and consternation.
“Did the Council know about the pirates’ involvement?” I whispered to Sar’vana.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice hollow, and her muzzle twitching in subdued fury.
“Had this entire thing been planned?”
“It seems that way.” Sar’vana faced me with worry in her eyes for the first time. “But I certainly hope it wasn’t.”