Chapter Eleven
"Hey, Hinev, any word yet on the Federation council's decision?" Midrior entered the dormitory where Hinev was studying for the entrance examination into Ariyalsynai’s most elite biochemistry program.
"What?" Hinev looked up at his roommate. "Oh—not yet."
"Well, I have some news," Midrior said, but Hinev wasn't paying much attention. "Will you stop that?" He exclaimed, irritated. "I've never met anyone more likely to pass that exam than you, Hinev." Midrior laughed, remembering the day less than a year ago when Hinev had first arrived in Ariyalsynai for training.
For a youth entering formal education so late in his childhood, Hinev had more than made up for lost time, if he had in fact suffered from the lack of training. Within a tenday Hinev was placed among the top year science students, and it was then that he had been transferred to a room with Midrior.
Hinev had an answer for everything, but Midrior usually had to wrangle the answers out of him. Only the second day they knew each other, Hinev had interrupted an argument between a Kayrian student and one of Midrior's friends. It seemed Hinev wasn’t only a half-race child; perfect Kayrian flowed from his lips! Midrior was determined to puzzle the man out; what confused Midrior more was how Hinev spoke Tulorian and Gildbaturan so well. Only Hinev's Berrachai(y)i sounded weak, but no Seynorynaelian Midrior knew could imitate that language very well, and Hinev's wasn't any worse than their instructor's.
And this Hinev hadn't ever received formal training before this year? Midrior often wondered.
Midrior had done some investigating a few tendays ago when Hinev took some interest in the postings calling for candidates into the explorer entrance exam; for the first time in the history of the space exploration programs, the council had made acquiring scientifically-trained candidates their top priority. Rumor had it that this was because the mission was going to far surpass the previous ones in its range, that the next explorer mission was going to discover other worlds beyond the five-star ring, the last planet of which had been discovered years and years ago, before the Tulorian-Berachai War.
Out of curiosity, Midrior went to the records building and began to research the past explorer missions to see what his friend was getting so worked up about, and made a jarring discovery.
Almost two years ago, the explorer starship Ishkur had exploded on its way to Gildbatur. Midrior was about to continue when one of the crew's names popped out of the printvolume and caught his attention. The second chief of the mission had been a certain Jerekkil Hinev. Intrigued, Midrior had gone to investigate his personal history, but there wasn't much about him on file, except that he came from Lake Firien.
The place where Fynals Hinev was from.
Midrior's curiosity won out over tact, and he asked Hinev if he knew about Jerekkil; of course, Hinev had said. Jerekkil was his father.
Ever since Hinev's confession, Midrior had been determined to see his friend Hinev achieve his goal to become a biochemist with genetics studies and one day train with the explorers; he had to admit, he liked the idea of being friends with an explorer’s son, and perhaps a future explorer. He liked the idea that they would all go on to do great things. And he did not like to see his efforts go unappreciated.
“I don’t want to just pass.” Hinev said. “Remember, I’m trying to get into the top program—”
"I said I have some news," Midrior repeated. "It's about the progress of the explorer starship." Midrior added. Hinev looked up.
"You didn't," Hinev laughed. Midrior couldn’t figure out how Hinev knew, but he nodded.
"I went to see Mindier for you.”
“And?”
“He found out all about the new mission.” Midrior said. “Seems he went to his father's building and asked around. By the way, did you know they've named the new prototype?”
“No.” Hinev said, growing intrigued.
“It's called the Sesylendae.” Midrior said, with an air of triumph. “Rumor has it that the centipede gate capable engine is still on hold, though. It just isn’t working. But Mindier says one of the scientists in his father's unit is developing a new engine, something called—
“A tachiyon engine.” Hinev finished.
“Hey, how did you know?” Midrior laughed. “Anyway, Midrior says it's capable of an even greater relativistic rate than the other prototypes."
"Time outside the ship would pass more swiftly then," Hinev commented.
"Minutes pass on board, hundreds of years pass at home.” Midrior gestured in the air dismissively. “Honestly, I can't understand why anyone would want to become an explorer—no offense, Hinev." Midrior sighed, shaking his head. "But if the council doesn't ever decide on the proposed course, it won't matter what the starship engineers do."
“No, it won’t.” Hinev agreed absently, glancing back to his work.
“What’s that you’re doing?” Midrior asked, peering over at the work etched on a half dozen printvolume sheets strewn across the study panel; half of them were really outdated, Midrior noticed. Hinev leaned back in his chair noncommittally and shrugged.
“Just something that’s going to get me into the best science training program there is.” Hinev said.
“How do you figure that?” Midrior asked, his eyes skeptical. “If you don’t know someone to get you in, you either have to put your faith in luck or score higher than anyone else ever did on their test, and even then, even for you, Hinev, I mean, I know you deserve it—”
“It isn’t about deserving,” Hinev said very quietly. “Deserving people don’t always get a chance to do what they want in life. Life doesn’t hold a reward for the deserving, even if it should.”
“I don’t understand you, Hinev.” Midrior laughed.
“I have to get into that program,” Hinev said. “For someone I know who never got the chance.”
Hinev saw Midrior less and less, until at last their friendship drifted into the past.
He had made it into the elite scientific program with a revolutionary idea, a new idea that was still dividing scientific camps all over the Federation; an idea that had made this unknown youth Fynals Hinev somewhat of a celebrity in the past three years.
Who was this Hinev, to have come up with such an idea before even completing his specialist training? Many asked, and once society had perpetuated and circulated enough myths about him, myths growing in each re-telling, the elite of Ariyalsynai discussing him were already half-given to accede his genius before they had even taken a look at his metaphysical ideas.
Hinev knew the truth of the matter. Undina had taught him all she knew, all she ever thought, and she had first shown him her “science of individualism” before he even had a chance to believe that her philosophy was not truth. In the years after his father’s death, Hinev had inherited the works of his mother and expounded the philosophy where she had left the last arguments unfinished. During early training, he spent his few free moments compiling it thoroughly into a lengthy document, which he presented to the special considerations committee, where petitioners to the science training program could present any outstanding achievements they had done for consideration in the hopes of being admitted on the merit of their outside work.
Most of all, Hinev had submitted it because he knew there was a chance his voice would be heard; he had done it for Undina. Hinev knew that her only hope of making an impact on the world had always rested in the hands of her son, and he was determined not to fail her. She had wanted him to do something that would change the world for the better because she couldn’t.
He felt none of the victory for himself, except that it pleased him to see that the beliefs that he and Undina shared now belonged to the world to accept or denounce—but for the world to hear.
When Hinev first arrived at the center, he had wondered which of these people would become real people to him and not just faces, objects pa
ssing by, not just people who wanted to get to know him for his sudden fame; then he ran into an old acquaintance from his early training, Mindier.
Some time later, Hinev ran into another young man by chance in one of the laboratories, and they began an argument, discussing cell anatomy at first, then everything possible either one could think of as the argument escalated into a three hour debate that spanned the entire terrain of the training center, as they followed each other about their immediate errands. The stranger became a genuine friend Hinev would keep for life, a man by the name of Arion Kudenka.
In Hinev’s second year in training, Hinev met Cernik, who brought his friend Niflan into their circle; they formed a discussion group completed by Mindier, a group bound by such close friendship, that the other trainees came to regard these five young men as an indomitable, inseparable force whose clear voices reigned supreme over the outside forum.
The only problem for the group was the name-calling of passers-by.
Standing out in the open forum, Hinev was a target for random commentary—insults—delivered by trainees wandering into the large communal forum from all over the neighboring centers, ignorant trainees and youths from common centers passing by on the transport lanes, anyone who noticed the half-race man standing there out in the open.
“Half-race bastard!” Was the most common of these hurled insults. Seldom did the offenders draw near enough to show their own faces, unless they passed in a group of more than four; the animus of these large groups often threatened to descend into a brawl between sides: them and the circle of five.
Hinev and his friends were almost drawn into a brawl when some of the offensive passers-by threatened Hinev and Kudenka brandishing fists in the air as they passed. It was all Hinev could do to keep Kudenka from jumping on them for their crude speech and raised fists.
Insults were usually flung into the air out of nowhere, days, even tendays apart, never expected, always directed at the half-race Hinev who seldom led the discussions in the forum. Kudenka often stopped talking after a particularly nasty comment was flung their way; Niflan, Cernik, and Mindier all stilled as well before resuming in their debates, whether political, philosophical, or scientific. All were stunned by the defamatory remarks that plagued the half-race genius they had come to know as their brother, and they took the insults he received to heart. Hinev alone seemed unemotional, unaffected, as though he never registered anything.
Hinev was used to jeering. He had been half-race all his life, and had grown entirely used to being insulted for it.
Lopri, one of the unknown culprits of the verbal attacks, had begun to haunt the forum of late with his friends, a group of elite children with narrow-minded opinions, and who were, quite frankly, spoiled and rude. Yet for some reason, the elite had mostly accepted Hinev and admired him, in conformity with society’s rather inflated image of him, after he had come up with his revolutionary ideas. Only Lopri despised Fynals Hinev, this man who was an intellectual genius.
Lopri hated intellectuals. Lopri was not overly bright, but he was wealthy. Lopri hated having to answer questions blindly, wringing his unhappy mind for answers he could not know; he had gone into aesthetic training, which had the misfortune of being situated next to the elite scientific building. Lopri had prejudices against aliens, as well as the poor of his own race. Of course, it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t the intellect Hinev had, but he had become bitter and wanted to hurt the man.
Yet Lopri had an image to maintain, that he was a deserved member of the elite: high-minded, refined, reasonable. The maintenance of this image was his major occupation, and it took all of his effort to cultivate an educated air.
Lopri especially hated this Hinev, this inferior-born man who walked around as though he didn’t notice all of the attention around him! Shouldn’t he at least have the sensitivity to appreciate the attentions? Why did he deserve them, a low-born half-race man? Lopri despised Hinev, because Hinev was nothing while he, Lopri, had been born into an established family, and yet it was Hinev everyone important followed with their eyes.
Lopri had got through but a page of Hinev’s “science of individualism” before he became overwhelmed by the words; oh how he hated the man!
Yet he would never show his hatred in front of anyone and risk exposure and censure; he was always careful in his choice of negative comments, restricting them to defamatory remarks about Hinev’s half-race heritage, which were socially acceptable.
Lopri even tried on occasion to be nice to Hinev and his group, that elite-born scientist Mindier, Kudenka, whom Lopri hated because the man was a natural leader, also a brilliant scientist by all accounts, energetic, enthusiastic, and noble-hearted, Cernik, the boisterous young astro-chemist, and of course Niflan, the outsider, who had switched from general science to aeronomy and astro-navigation against his family’s wishes.
“Just what is this science of individualism of yours, then, Hinev?” Lopri threw at Hinev from across the courtyard, the open forum with fountains, gardens, and trees. Hinev was excusing himself from his circle of friends; several of the others stopped and glanced at Lopri. Hinev wore an expression Lopri was sure had to be complacent; Hinev never seemed to show any emotion, damn him!
Lopri shrugged and smiled.
“It’s rather complicated.” Hinev said. Lopri battled with maintaining his smile. How could this Hinev humiliate him in front of everyone with that kind of a remark?
“Just give me the basic suppositions, then.”
“Well, the science of individualism as the main force guiding human nature is in part the idea that the individual will always act for his own interest, and that he will act for the good of others if that general good promotes his own interest.”
“That’s the basic premise, Hinev,” Kudenka said, with a half-smile; Hinev noticed the crowds suddenly gathering around him, ears turned his way. Was he going to explain his philosophy in layman’s terms, here in the courtyard? they wondered.
“Yes, but there’s more,” Hinev said, trying not to look about or to let the swelling crowd affect his thinking.
There were shouts of encouragement swarming round. Hinev seemed to hesitate, then finally gave in. Kudenka’s eyes held an expression that considered Hinev’s impending triumph a foregone conclusion; Kudenka was waiting, ready to listen, knowing he would enjoy the way Hinev was going to put Lopri in his place. Lopri was such a mean-spirited man that Kudenka thought he deserved this, especially after all he had done to injure Hinev and him.
“The science of individualism is primarily based on rational thought as we know it.” Hinev explained, his voice clear and unfettered but for a breeze that dared to whisper behind him. “The principles of the science of individualism maintain that an individual has as much right as a majority to influence the environment, as long as his motive is for the welfare of others and thereby for the welfare of himself; his motives must not be to promote events which will lead to either his own ruin or the ruin of others, which cannot be rational.
“Promoting Individualism is about individual reasoning and the superiority, not merely the validity, of the rational mind over tradition, hearsay, and opinion. Individualism is based on understanding the reality of the human mind, as we perceive empirical truth, and it is determined by biological fact. The science of individualism establishes that the rights of the individual are as valid as the general interest of society, and recognizes the productive potential of all living beings, and the right to develop that potential. What this means is that any person has the right to do as he must, as long as his action doesn’t impede the rights of another or cause the willful ruin of others, directly or indirectly.
“So in essence, it is a basis for right and just behavior, of one individual for himself, and for society as individuals.
“According to individualism, a person’s individual morality is as valid as the morality of his society, even if his moralit
y is independent of the society he comes from. The one principle is that any individual is as valid as any group, that he constitutes his own faction of one. Individualism also establishes that all races and sexes have equal rights, without denying that all individuals do not always share equal abilities.
“Individualism denies that justice necessitates the division of society into any class hierarchy, since this does not promote social equality of opportunity which is independent of factual biological inequality. We are not born equal, but should not be grouped by our inequalities. Individualism denies the deification or idolization of any public figure, since to be an individual one is only accountable to one’s own value system.
“But individualism doesn’t deny the right of a society to dictate law, since law is supposedly for the general good and the good of the individual; it merely advocates an individual’s free choice whether or not to decide if that law has moral validity and is to be obeyed.
“As for morality, individualism dictates that moral judgments cannot be based on virtue that is illogical and contrary to the principles of survival, or to biological fact.
“Moreover, any sexual act for the promotion of the survival of the species cannot be immoral, except an act of sexual force which negates individual rights, though individualism doesn’t deny the right of any person to decide the emotional preconditions which must be necessary for the act to have value to both parties; that is to say, a person’s individual morality is both valid and instrumental to the survival of the species. But it is a singularly individual choice and cannot be determined by society as a whole.
“Also, we believe that as an instrument of maintaining the survival of any race, emotions, whether considered good or not, are integral to the survival of the race; emotions are a necessary part of individual reasoning, free will, and an individual’s biological make-up, which is biochemical but erroneously proclaimed to be but a combination of ‘instinct’, ‘nature’, or ‘character’. Instinct, nature, and character comprise the essence of individualism because they are biologically created states of mind; they are the instruments of individual reasoning and are not independent of rational thought. Emotion and logic are thus interdependent.
“Individualism recognizes the principle that no male or female is an absolute example of his sex or his sex’s behavior, which means that a female can be and is often masculine, and a man can be and is often effeminate, and that this is not an observation for which it is necessary to make any moral or character judgment, because no particular race or sex must be categorized by general prejudice, which denies the existence of the exceptions of the individual.
“Individualism does not condone the false perpetuation of broadly categorizeable gender roles which deny the rights and individual, unique nature of every person’s reasoning intellect; individualism purports that gender roles approved by a large society, which has been prejudiced by tradition, are not valid. Nor can these gender categories be found to be valid because they do not recognize the biological fact that no two organisms even of a particular race and sex are identical or can be found to share identical traits.
“Individualism dictates that gender roles are basic in their function of perpetuating the survival of the species; that is, there happens to be an X and a Y which interact for the sake of natural selection, and a sexual act between them is necessary to perpetuate the species. General characteristics of gender are merely facets of that gender’s direct ability to promote the survival of offspring; thus mothers can choose to protect their children by the rational choice of instinct to keep the genetic material alive, and males can also choose to protect the mother and child to keep their own genetic material alive.
“Individualism dictates that reasoning is an ability independent of race or sex, and reasoning varies in capacity in each individual independent of race or sex. Individualism also recognizes the utility of intuition in a given circumstance when pure reasoning cannot expose the answer before an expedient decision must be made; individualism supposes that intuition will be found to have a measurable and analyzable source in the human brain and that no action or feeling any man is capable of is unique to that particular individual, though his particular reasoning and intellect are unique and valid as an individual alone, unlike any other—”
“Stop!” Lopri said, covering his ears, then suddenly pretended as though he were parodying himself in order to hide his disdain of the man.
“You asked for an explanation.” Hinev shrugged, preparing to turn away, his synopsis unfinished.
“Don’t take it the wrong way.” Lopri said quickly, posturing with intellectual poses. “I found your idea interesting, but give me time to process everything you’ve said.”
“Of course.”
“So, what is your take on creativity, then?” Lopri demanded, looking serious.
“Creativity is at the root of the soul.” Hinev nodded.
“And?” Said Lopri.
“The science of individualism promotes freedom of expression—anything for the betterment of the self in all branches of study and action—well, any creative activity that promotes a feeling of individual self-worth, that doesn’t contradict the other principles—”
“Forget the science of individualism for a moment.” Lopri shook his head. “What about you? What do you think?”
“Me?” Hinev laughed. All eyes turned to him as though the answer to the meaning of life were forthcoming. “I’m still trying to figure out what some of the strange modern Tulorian murals in the art gallery are all about. Frankly, I can’t see much value in them, and if a squiggle of violet color is supposed to represent our suffering, perhaps I need a corrective eye procedure. But I despise myself when I find myself being negative or too critical of others, so I’d rather not say more.”
The entire crowd laughed, all except Lopri. This Hinev wasn’t conceited, despite his intellect. He was just living on his own terms.
“You make one great mistake, Hinev.” Lopri said, as the laughter died out.
“What’s that?”
Kudenka swung his eyes to Lopri, sensing hostility. But did Hinev suspect what Lopri might really feel? He often wondered.
“Assuming that all the races are equal.” Lopri said.
“They are.”
Some of the others snickered, mostly those in the elite on Lopri’s side.
“They aren’t.” Lopri rejoined. “Don’t feed me your idealistic nonsense. Biologically speaking, Seynorynaelians are superior to other races—fact; pure, simple, not subject to debate.”
“I say it is.”
“You can’t prove otherwise.”
“What would it take to do that?” Hinev demanded, superficially calm.
“You couldn’t. The inferior races haven’t followed the same path of evolution as we have. Your Kayrian species is nowhere near as venerable; your other races haven’t been tempered by the same severe forces of environment.”
“Explain to me why Kayrian and Seynorynaelian can combine genetically—”
“I won’t go into ‘The Great Debate’ with you, Hinev.” Lopri said, mostly because he didn’t know it well enough; his present argument he had learned from his elitist family before he was old enough to enter training. “Seynorynaelian DNA genes are superior to those of the other humanoid races, and combine because the Seynorynaelian race is adaptable and the most fit to survive—”
“I see it’s pointless arguing with you.” Hinev said quietly.
“Because I’m right?”
“Because you’ve forsaken the pursuit of knowledge for the security of your own prejudices.”
When was the last time I enjoyed anything? Hinev wondered idly, heading back from an interview in Kilkor where he had been invited to defend his philosophy, “the science of individualism” before a group of venerable scientists and philosophers.
Hinev was tired, and not exactly a
happy man.
He was tired of all the discussions, tired of the training sessions, at least for that moment. Everyone had down moments. Hinev was tired of defending his mother’s Kayrian race as well as his beliefs, so damned tired of Seynorynaelians seeing him as an outsider, when he had been born on this world, raised here, and was half-Seynorynaelian himself!
The attendant on the shuttle had glared at him when he sat in the honored seat reserved for him near the front left side of the shuttle; after a short investigation of his passenger sheet, he had gone over to whisper with the other attendants on call, and every so often the entire lot of them cast glances back his way. They were polite to him on the surface, a bit sincerely surprised, but Hinev saw past it all, felt their underlying hostility. Sometimes he wished he could know exactly what they were thinking instead of feeling what they felt—no, that wasn’t it. He wished he could enter their thoughts and tell them what he thought of their judgment; more than anything, it suddenly occurred to him that he wished he could force them to see what exactly it was like to feel the same kind of hostility—
And then he sighed at himself. That kind of thought, and its imaginary behavior, was not rational at all. And it wasn’t right. For so long he had tried to deny this tool, this “weapon” he had of being able to guide movements and to know what others thought of him; he had kept so unemotional on the surface, with no expression, because to let them know what he was feeling was to betray his own vulnerabilities, and he had little enough to defend himself as it was.
Hinev was glad when the shuttle landed, relieved to be back in Ariyalsynai. He was almost done with his training in biochemistry with sub-specialization in genetics; in fact, he had but a few tendays to go until he received his official specialization. He, Kudenka, Cernik, Mindier, and Niflan would be finished at once, and they were all going to try for the new explorer mission; the final official call for explorer candidates to train had come that year, and the last exams were to fall at the end of the warm season.
Niflan said it was Hinev that had mentioned the idea that they all try for the programs together, but Hinev knew it had been Kudenka who first spoke of the idea aloud, back at the end of their second year. They had all been pouring over the necessary testing this last year, testing each other in advance; it was common knowledge among the center if not within the general population that Hinev’s father, Jerekkil Hinev, had been an explorer.
Hinev tried to remember all that his father had told him about the selection process, and the five of them set their minds on making it into the program together.
Hinev caught a local transport and headed back to the science center, where he found Cernik in the forum; Cernik was going to meet Niflan. Hinev accompanied him to the nearby philosophical sciences building. Cernik was talking about some kind of field competition; they headed down a long white corridor towards the main hall until they caught the echoed words approaching them.
“...I don’t think we have a choice about thinking.” A female voice was saying. “If we are capable of thinking, we will; even a retarded mind will think—is it not impossible to survive if we do not think? We cease thinking only when we are dead, and even if a man should wish not to think and choose suicide, he cannot eradicate his final thoughts before death...”
Hinev stopped, shushed Cernik to silence. Cernik gave him a skeptical, confused look.
“Of course, if one is talking about reason, man can only think according to his ability.” The woman continued. “He cannot choose not to reason, but his reasoning may be flawed. He can choose to try to use his intellect as little as possible, but necessity will impel him to think automatically with his own logic, faulted or not. No, there is no choice with regard to thought; any living being must think in order to be alive. Choice has nothing to do with it; for even to choose not to think is a thought and end result of a process, and try to implement such a plan, impossible as it is, would be to consciously think about not thinking...”
“What is it, Hinev? That’s just Reneja in there, talking philosophy again—”
“Reneja?” Hinev turned to him with a questioning gaze.
“Sure, Niflan’s old friend.”
“Man is a creature of free will,” Reneja went on, “but he is never entirely free of preconditions beyond his choosing. To assume that all he is, and that the course of his life, is entirely a result of his own choices is ludicrous. If that were true, we would all be beautiful and unflawed, and we could do entirely as we pleased, even given that we would have to accept the consequences. Did a man choose the circumstances of his birth? No. Is this not proof that from the beginning, a man’s life is limited by forces beyond his control?”
Hinev went inside the door and found a seat near the back. There was a group of about seven or eight people clustered about the speaker, Niflan among them. At Hinev’s intrusion, the woman’s eyes flicked towards him imperceptibly; she looked away deliberately.
Hinev found himself distracted by her appearance, and couldn’t hear her words. Her face was lovely, but not exquisite; her hair was incredibly pale by Seynorynaelian standards, without being some off-world color, but her bright dark eyes were soft as a wind-smoothed pond.
She seemed suddenly to avoid looking at him as she made her next argument. Hinev hadn’t even the ability at that moment to wonder why.
“If a man’s pursuit of happiness interferes with the pursuit of happiness of his fellow, his achievement of self-worth and self-satisfaction is a vice, not a virtue, for his selfishness has not merely established his own happiness but effectively destroyed the happiness and self-worth of another.” She cast a nervous glance at him, as though she thought he would be critical of her. Then he realized that she was expanding upon concepts explained by his science of individualism. “To be proud of such an achievement at the expense of others is immoral—”
“But surely the study of science is exempt from your argument.” One of the others argued. “The study of science is based entirely on reasoning, experimentation, and knowledge, not on pursuit of happiness—”
“And we make the mistake of assuming that all scientists are reasoning, untainted by motive or agenda, so to speak.” She rejoined. “Remember, though, that a scientist is human, and polluted by human ambition and ego as much as the politician down the street.”
“But—”
“Geradis won’t ever accede—” Niflan said. “The only problem with science as I see it is, it's always making possible things most of us aren't ready for,” he laughed deeply, clearly trying to mitigate the heat of the argument going on between Geradis and Reneja.
“So, stick to navigating cargo ships, Niflan,” Geradis threw out, dead-pan, but it was equally clear that he wasn’t serious.
Reneja had stopped, grown silent. Her eye had strayed towards Hinev. The others followed it and turned.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, then—” Some of the others were making parting words; the group filtered out the door, leaving Niflan, Reneja, and another man sitting in a circle by a podium.
Reneja stepped down from the podium, trying not to be flustered.
“Hey, Niflan, you ready?”
“You’re Niflan’s friend, right?” Hinev asked, looking at Reneja.
“You could say so. I’m Reneja.” She said, looking blankly at him.
“You made a few very interesting points.” Hinev said appreciatively. “Sorry we interrupted. I’m—”
“Fynals Hinev, I know.” Reneja said, paling slightly, self-consciously aware that she had blurted her words, and that they were staring at her. Had they noticed how she blurted those words? Hinev seemed so serene, but there was a slight hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. She tried not to look him directly in the eye. “So, so where are you going?” She turned to Niflan.
“We’re practicing to be explorer candidates,” Cernik explained. “All of us. Me, Cernik, Kudenk
a, Hinev, Mindier—”
“Explorer candidates?” Reneja echoed.
“Sure, you should try, too.” Hinev suggested; Cernik looked askance at him, with a hint of humor.
“Me?” Reneja was startled.
“Why not?” Hinev asked.
“Well, it’s just that I never gave much thought to it.”
“Are you afraid?” Niflan asked, with a hearty laugh.
Reneja’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
Her expression, the small, defiant crease between her brows, caught Hinev’s attention. Then, she smiled. The smile made her eyes glorious.
“If you can get in, Niflan,” she laughed, “I can get in.”
And she did.
The Comet Riders: Book Five of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 17