Confluence, p.1
Confluence, page 1
ENDPOINT: BOOK 3
Confluence
J W Griffin
JWGRIFFIN.US
“All the darkness in the universe combined
cannot negate the smallest ray of light”
Paavi proverb
Contents
1. Spheres of Reality
2. Student Union
3. Maneuvers
4. Lessons Learned
5. Revisit
6. The Tear-Out
7. Exercises
8. Mugs Around the Fire
9. Jumping Over the Line
10. Dagger in Residence
11. The Unraveling
12. Reunions and Separations
13. Time Out
14. Fight or Flight
15. Fine Exit, Fine Entrance
16. Confluence
17. Em922
18. Lost and Found
19. Company Traffic
Note from the author
About the Author
1
Spheres of Reality
Nearly clear, her mind raced ahead; where would she go next?
Long shadows stretched off towers of stone rubble lining the dusty streets of a ghost city. A small form scurried between the high, crumbling piles, just ahead of voices barking like hounds over the evening air. The small form was a Centauri child, and her small feet pattered in time with her dual racing hearts. The girl didn’t know where she was going, but she was desperate for any twist or turn that could lead her away. She could hear the voices behind her; they were growing louder.
She approached a massive building that had once been a factory, perhaps a hundred years in the past. Tarnished metallic sheet panels formed the exterior shell, and rust streaks at points of connection made it look as though the building had wept over the passage of time. An entry bay for large transport vehicles had long since lost its original doors, and the gaping hole led to a darkened interior. The girl surveyed the abyss and glanced back over her shoulder toward the voices before darting inside. Several spots in the three-story-high ceiling had breached open and revealed the first stars in the darkening sky above. Mounds of industrial wreckage littered the floor, and the young Centauri scrambled past, mere seconds ahead of growling silhouettes waving torch lights.
Hot on her tail, the mob of Takers entered and flanked out across the floor expanse in a coordinated effort to surround her. They were closing in, and she realized the distance to the far end of the building was too great; she wouldn’t make it out before they overtook her. But the girl was clever; she’d held a line along the building perimeter wall, and her quick eyes surveyed an enormous, twisted pile of debris just ahead. At floor level, she crawled into the tiniest opening and was obscured beneath it. She scrambled deeper, crab-walking through turns and tight spots until her back came to rest against the factory’s perimeter wall.
Buried under bent rebar, warped pipes, and chunks of concrete, the grimy faced child was none other than Princess Khattara Eschala, or at least she had been. The apple of her father’s eye, weeks earlier she’d enjoyed playing military board games with him, and much to the king’s delight, her natural aptitude with strategy had begun to emerge. He’d often seen her eyes twinkle in victory and gazed lovingly into brown irises encircled with a ring of violet. Those moments were worlds away from her now. Recent events had caused Khattara Eschala to be cast away, and at just eleven cycles old, she was now marooned on this planet called Shorcanton.
With wide eyes, the girl hugged her knees and rocked inside the small pocket. Her chest burned for oxygen, but she dared not breathe. Khattara Eschala heard a dozen footsteps thump past, and only then did she take measured breaths with her head between her knees. Her back rested against the sheet metal of the exterior perimeter wall, and she felt it give a little. As the wall moved outward, the skin of the siding near ground level pulled along the throats of headless rivet fasteners. The child froze rigid at the first screeching sound of metal on metal.
Holding quiet, Khattara Eschala heard excited voices and flashes of reflected light as the torches hunted for her. It grew quiet for a moment, and she strained to hear whether the Takers had passed. Suddenly, the debris above shifted, and many bright lights shone down into her eyes. The mob howled with delight as frenzied hands clawed down toward her.
Khattara spun around and pushed her shoulder further into the loose metal siding. A vertical seam between panels parted, but the opening was too small to crawl through. Bracing with her legs, she shoved harder, but something heavy on the ground outside blocked the panel from bowing further outward. She strained and flexed the triangular end of the sharp metal to and fro. Crimson streaked over the burred edge as frantic fingers pried outward. Pushing with all her might, she’d squirmed part way through when rough hands seized her ankles. Khattara shrieked and bucked as though touched by high voltage. She fought their pull and kicked hard until she broke free. Pushing forward again, she wiggled through an opening that matched the width of her hip bones. Unfettered panic erupted into a feverish scramble on hands and knees out between debris that led to the open street.
Nearly clear, her mind raced ahead; where would she go next?
For the planet’s newest resident, the entire area was a labyrinth of horrors. Through the dim light of two moons, she navigated down alleys and across open space. Khattara Eschala ran and ran and stumbled through many corners and low passages for what seemed like an hour.
She continued until she was sure no one could have held pursuit. As she looked and listened with bated breath, the silence confirmed that she’d lost them; she was safe. With a hand over her upper heart, she felt the drumbeat below, and for a single moment, she allowed herself to sob. Just then, bright lights shone on her from every direction, and at once the mob converged upon their quarry. She screamed as many strong, hurtful hands pawed and pulled at her within their tightening circle.
◊ ◊ ◊
Khattara shot up in bed and cried out, first in terror, then in relief at being out of the nightmare. Under a nightshirt soaked with sweat, she gasped, desperate for more air. Veins across her neck and arms bulged like surging roads on an animated map, and her nostrils flared in parallel with quick breaths. Years earlier, Khattara’s entire body had been surgically laced with strength augments, and glistening muscles now flexed beneath her flesh, hard as steel. Her choppy breath was muffled with short sobs, and her head shook in small quick ticks.
“Just a dream. You’re out…You’re here...Be here...Be here now.”
A soft glow bathed her bedroom from a small light that had shone throughout every night since she’d returned from Shorcanton, and her eyes caught the reflection of a silhouette in the mirror hanging off the closet door. A warrior wielding a pistol stared back, her hand and arm covered with raised, pulsing veins. Khattara glanced down at her service weapon and only then realized that she was the pistol-wielding warrior in the reflection. Brushing across her lips with the back of a shaking hand, she trilled softly before turning and laying the pistol on the bedside table. The quavering percussion from her breath was a Centauri trait and came from air passing over a separate set of vocal cords; for many of her species, anger or anguish caused these strands in the throat to tighten, so that exhalation produced a trilling sound.
As Khattara’s toes registered the cold floor, she buried lithe fingers deep into her jet-black hair. After a few moments, her heaving breaths diminished, and she peeked out between her palms at the clock. It was earlier than usual, a full four hours before first line call. She stood and held a palm to her forehead.
Shuffling off toward the bathroom, she mumbled in a mechanical cadence, “Strengthen the body, strengthen the mind…strengthen the body, strengthen the mind…strengthen…”
She would do as she always had, as she’d learned to do over the many years since Shorcanton and the real nightmare that had come just after her rescue. Through vigorous regimens in waking hours, she’d learned to eclipse the memories of dark voices and hurtful hands. In mere moments, the woken warrior dressed and donned running shoes. The main portal slid open, and as Khattara stepped across the threshold, she spoke upward. “Lock it up.” She secured her hair back tight and began to jog down the hallway toward the stairs.
Nearly clear, her mind raced ahead; where would she go next?
◊ ◊ ◊
The distant echo of a little boy’s shriek caused Ryan to shoot up in his bed and thrust his hand out.
“No…don’t!”
The silence that followed in his darkened room was like the smothering quiet just after the massacre on Gamma Andoria so many years ago. The memory of the child the Daerk had murdered that day spun over and over into Ryan’s sleeping moments, and in recent days it had recurred with greater frequency. As the glow of dawn grew brighter outside, Ryan’s thumb and forefinger wrenched the stupor of sleep from his eyes. As he glanced around, his mind registered where he was, and his heart rate slowed.
He too was quartered at the Centauri war college, and the gray stone exterior of his four-story building was identical to the one across campus where Khattara resided. It had been so many years since he’d held a room on a planet, and the sensation of being grounded stirred up feelings he’d thought lost to time. Smirking, he shook his head at the predicament. Although driven by mission objectives, Ryan McBain couldn’t halt the sentimental feelings that connected him back through time to his attendance at Earth’s military academy. The parallels caused him to huff aloud. Looking up, he thought, You believe this, Ragn? All at once, his mind was flood
ed with many fond memories of his dear friend. The joy evaporated just as quickly as the Earth-ending recollections that followed, and the lingering residue caused Ryan’s cheek to tighten. His head bobbed lower. Time to move…keep movin’, McBain.
The moment was interrupted by flashes and vibrations coming from a seemingly possessed tablet beside him on the bed. A stream of text containing schedule reminders, advisories, notes, and status requests rolled in from Violet. Ryan’s smile blossomed as he thought about her way; for hours, Vi had monitored vital stats and waited for him to regain a conscious state.
He squinted at the screen, and his brow crinkled when he saw forty-three individual memos.
“Someone’s been busy. Can you highlight and prioritize the important ones for me?”
Ryan waited for a moment as the screen refreshed. The messages reappeared in the exact same order, except each was now tagged with a small red flag. He shook his head, smiling.
“Well, unless Daerk are bustin’ through the front portal, I’m gonna hit the head and then get somethin’ to eat.”
Ryan rose off a narrow mattress in a bedroom with a style that was best described as “standard issue.” The color of the bare walls was off-white, just like the bedding and fabric drapes. He walked across a cold gray floor made of a vinyl-like material. The single bathroom off the bedroom was institutional, with a small shower, toilet, and pedestal basin. Looking at himself for a moment in the small oval mirror, Ryan wondered how some of the other species would fit in such a small place, particularly the Guarone species attending this academy. The shoulders on those beasts must be five feet wide. He’d later learn there were quarters with differing designs based upon the average physical size of the assigned occupants.
He turned the faucet handle and marveled at the endless stream of running water in the sink of his own private bathroom. As a cadet here, he’d scored what would have roughly translated to officer quarters long ago on his home world.
Minutes later Ryan was enjoying a crumbling, oat-like food that bore a striking similarity to Earth granola. The main room of his quarters was rectangular and split into two sections. A kitchen on one end was separated from a living area by a raised bar. Ryan sat on a stool at the high counter and responded to Violet’s messages between bites. She was a chatterbox of additional directions and reminders about his cover story.
Much of the content repeated itself. Ryan rolled his eyes. “I know, yes.” He nodded at a map of the campus and the location of his first class. “Vi, I got it. I’ve been here for three weeks in off-worlder orientation. I’m good. It’s gonna be OK.” Ryan looked down at the tablet, waiting for the response.
Have a good first day of school, Commander.
Ryan smiled. “You can be nervous for the both of us.”
I am synthetic; I do not do nervous.
As Ryan exited his quarters, he noted long cold stares from everyone shuffling down the hallways and stairwells. His dress and physical appearance as a Paavi could just as well have been a neon sign overhead. He chuckled, thinking how the original purpose of the Eylon Walach persona was to blend in and be anonymous. In the context of a Centauri military academy, there was little he could have done to be more conspicuous. Just after exiting the building, he took a hard shoulder from another passing student. As he continued his morning walk through the campus courtyards, he could feel the stares multiplying.
Although the social environment was less than warm, the open green space was welcoming. Ryan took several large breaths of fresh air as he progressed through the campus. Of all the worlds he’d visited, this planet and its people could have been twins of Earth.
Violet piped into his ear. “Your destination is ahead and to the right. It is one hundred and five feet from your present position. Prepare to make a right turn into the entry. Are you prepared to make a direction change? You are on final approach. Do you see your path ahead?”
Ryan smiled and shook his head. “Vi, I got it,” he whispered.
One of the core classes for first year students at the Centauri war college was a section on martial arts that taught balance, defense, and counterattack. Ryan wandered in with other first-year students to a pure white-over-white tiled locker room. An overhead audio recording instructed the students to find class uniforms in individually assigned lockers. The recording continued to provide basic instructions for donning the clothing and advised the group to report outside thereafter for class.
The far end of the changing room led to a central courtyard. Just outside, a squishy, rubber-like surface gave underfoot, and the master instructor stood waiting out in the center. The padded ground tiles had a checkerboard design with red and blue squares, each of which Ryan estimated to be five feet long. The square courtyard was about one hundred and fifty feet across. The instructor bowed as the students approached and introduced himself as Master He’achow. Ryan was compelled to bow in response; his gesture did not escape He’achow and drew side glances from the others.
The master spoke in a low and even tone. “In our short time together, we will seek a path that will guide us toward a harmony between body and mind. Our goal is to understand the nature of mindfulness and how it will draw us toward the foundations of greater focus.” Ryan stared ahead with a goofy grin. He’achow’s words were like water over parched lips.
The Centauri master was dark-skinned, and his hair stood straight out in one-inch-long kinky curls. He was small in stature, and his soft manner conveyed the subtle essence of balance. He enunciated with measured care over wide lips and the brightest of white teeth. While the teacher’s presence was not at all menacing, the focus of his mannerism led Ryan to believe Master He’achow could more than handle himself in a brawl. Though he did not resemble Ryan’s own former master, Sa Bom Nim Cho, Ryan knew in his heart that the two would have been fast friends.
Master He’achow continued. “Together we will discover that focus is a core tenant of inner strength, and strength is a necessary requirement for a proper defense. Let us begin the first lesson together. Our Paavi, Mr. Eylon, is it?”
Ryan’s stare ahead broke to make eye contact, and he bowed. Master He’achow smiled pleasantly and bowed in return.
“Mr. Eylon, please step forward here.”
Ryan stepped forward and stood right in front of the master.
“Today we will be practicing basic techniques used to repel non-weapon attacks. We will do so in pairs.” As he spoke, Ryan noticed a door open off the building on the far wall behind the master. “Ah, that would be our class assistant. For this session, we will be joined by a third-year student who also holds master qualifications. She will be our class teaching assistant helping in your development.”
Ryan struggled to hold his jaw closed as he recognized the woman passing through the doorway; it was none other than the Princess Khattara Eschala Menduvalli. Her stride was long but balanced, like the swagger of an approaching panther. Her smoldering gaze was constant and level despite the sway of her gait. Khattara’s eyes were focused ahead on the Paavi, and Ryan swallowed hard as she bowed to He’achow.
“Class, this is Khattara. You will address her as Master Khattara and follow her teaching words as an extension of my own.”
Ryan pinched his lips together as he bowed. As his eyes rose, he struggled to display an emotionless presence. Her eyes were laser focused into his.
“Mr. Eylon, if you would, please execute a swinging lunge at Master Khattara. Class, in response to the attack, she will demonstrate an example of a proper blocking technique, and we will then practice it in pairs.” After a moment, He’achow motioned with his head. “Mr. Eylon, proceed; you may commence your attack.”
