Confluence, p.13
Confluence, page 13
Bayhden’s eyes snapped toward hers. “No. I have no reason to hide anything from you. At least I don’t think I do.” The general nodded. “Shahlin, you’re the type of person that plots all angles and dives deep into the numbers and patterns…which I dare say makes you a nervous wreck most of the time. By the way, I greatly appreciate your insights. However, I’m sensing more anxiety than normal regarding this assessment. Can you elaborate on any perceptions or indications of increased risk factors?”
She smiled and nodded. “Elythian, I understand the value proposition of having a Paavi operative, but there’s just something off with him.”
Bayhden chuckled.
“Do you disagree?”
“No. You quoted exactly what someone else initially said about him.”
Mehlo cocked her head.
Bayhden pointed off toward the training range. “The self-destructive woman that just tore off with the Paavi, that was her first impression too.” The general’s smile faded as his gaze returned to hers. “Let me ask you, do you think he’s deceiving us about his identity or purpose?”
She cocked her head. “He doesn’t demonstrate physiological markers that he’s being deceptive. But that’s part of the problem; he doesn’t demonstrate any physiological markers. In all my years studying countless species, I’ve never seen anything like it. He goes completely blank. Aside from the fact that that’s not reasonably possible, why would a being go completely blank? You need to ask yourself that question.”
Bayhden nodded. “No matter what we end up doing with the Paavi, sounds like we should separate them. Two unstable elements, eh?”
Mehlo smiled. “That’s another interesting thing. I’ve observed their patterns together—quite a bit, actually. Did you know that for the past eight weeks we’ve run them in more than three dozen covert exercises as a stand-alone team?”
Bayhden cocked his head.
Mehlo continued. “They’ve yet to be defeated. They hold a perfect record, and the current count is more than double the previous record holder’s. Somehow together they work, which is really something.” She chuckled. “I have a funny story to share. Right in the middle of a recent operation, I watched as they had a full-on heated argument using sign language. With arms and hands waving in complete silence; it’s a wonder they didn’t stir up a dust devil. The aggressors were all around, nearly stumbled over them, while those two argued like an old married couple. Everyone watching on the monitors laughed for ten minutes and roared even louder when somehow, despite their quarreling, they managed to secure the objective. My staff’s been watching a video loop of their silent fight over and over again for weeks. It’s a favorite for sure. I fear a cult-like following for those two—the least likely couple that works—has developed within my own team.”
Bayhden smiled at the revelation. “Who won?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“In the silent argument, who won?”
“Based upon the departure smile, I’d guess your niece prevailed.”
Bayhden nodded. “Maybe she can keep him in line, then.”
Mehlo nodded. “Perhaps in exercises. But General, moving to a live operation would likely introduce elements that cause the entire dynamic to fall into itself. I would caution against it.”
Bayhden looked at a monitor showing drone footage following the two. They were moving with mod speed, traversing rough terrain, and holding formation together. The drone was having difficulty keeping up. His eyes narrowed on Khattara’s blurred form. “Thank you for the briefing. I don’t know about his past, but the woman there in your video feed…” Bayhden motioned toward Khattara. “By all rights, she shouldn’t have survived to be here with us. The fact that she somehow emerged from…” He shook his head. “I learned a long time ago not to underestimate her. She’s a force not easily explained.”
Mehlo smiled and nodded. “General, what would you like me to do?”
Bayhden thought for a moment. “Keep them running missions as a pair, and provide me with mission reports. See if you can trip them up; ramp it up a bit. You can always learn far more from a failure.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Five hours later a group of twelve was gathered around a table, including many from the earlier exercise. Once more Ryan and Khattara had prevailed. While disappointed at the loss, most at the table had already experienced the pair multiple times. A common thread in many stories was the acute frustration of having one in the gun sights only to be tagged out by the other. There was a growing appreciation for their capacity. A core group was beginning to form around Khattara and the Paavi.
Khattara was in the middle of bantering with others when Ryan handed her a shaker of salt-like seasoning without looking. She took it without pause in her dialogue and waved it in the animation of her story. By nature and necessity, all the operators at the table were very observant of their surroundings; several smiled at the silent cadence between the two.
Ryan had remained relatively quiet in the spirited exchange around the table. His glances were quick as he gathered information on the mannerisms of each personality. He tried to divide his attention with equal measure, but his eyes continued to return to the soldier animated in her story. As Khattara barbed and laughed with their compatriots, Ryan noted her plate. When she did take a bite, he noticed the methodical way in which she divided her food. She would separate it into two perfectly equal amounts and then consume from one half. Once that portion was gone, she made another division of the remainder and consumed from it. She was very casual in her mannerisms, and the divisions took several subtle movements.
Near the end of the meal, a third-year named Cahrvis whispered low across the table. “Hey, you guys up for a little extracurricular activity? I know a place we can go where even Walach will fit in.”
Ryan knew Cahrvis was a veteran of several conflicts, and his eyes held a familiar gleam; every squad had a lovable mischief-maker. Ryan knew because long ago on Earth, it used to be him. Cahrvis’ hair was cut short on the sides with thick, dark locks that dropped down over his brow. Its length, much like its owner, was dangerously close to violating regulations.
Ryan squinted, cocked his head, and tightened his cheek. Before he could enunciate a polite reason to decline, Eschala bumped her boot into his shin. As he glanced at her, she nodded and raised one eyebrow back.
Ryan exhaled slow over tight lips. “I’m gonna regret this.” He glanced at Cahrvis. “Sure; why not…I’m in.”
Minutes later a group of six sprinted across the south lawn, painted in spotlights, and ignored security hollering over loudspeakers. The jovial entourage found their way to public transport, and everyone removed identifying patches from their uniforms.
A moose named Bhurtist was among them and stood a full head higher in crowds. His golden eyes betrayed his origin from the southern continent of Centauri. With a deep, thoughtful voice, he enunciated with clear emphasis over wide lips. “You know, we’re probably gonna get busted out for this stunt.”
“Nawh, that’s why we have ‘er.” A grinning Cahrvis pointed at Khattara and nodded with emphasis.
Yehftin shook his head and pursed his lips. Ryan smiled in recognition. He was like so many he’d served with before. Smaller in stature, Yehftin was the thoughtful tactician. He pointed across the aisle as he spoke. “Yeah, but that assumes we’ll survive whatever shithole Cahrvis is dragging us into. We’re probably gonna get jumped by some stinky mob in superior numbers.”
Cahrvis giggled and pointed once more at Khattara. “Nawh, that’s absolutely why we have ‘er.” He extended his hand out low across the aisle, and Khattara reached out and smacked it. Cahrvis nodded. “And how do you find your squad, ma’am?”
Khattara winked back. “Wild and free…shadows and wind!”
Ryan relished their smiling eyes, and the banter reminded him of distant echoes from his own cherished past in Earth Defense Force 4. He saw messages flashing on his wrist device and dimmed the screen.
After a transfer to a second public transport, they exited into a warehouse district surrounding the commercial flight docks. Every few seconds enormous automated freight transports rumbled past. Ryan estimated the height of the vehicle tires was two feet taller than he was. Even though it was late, the import and trade district operated during all hours of every day.
A brilliant light in the sky preceded a boom followed by a growing rumble. The group glanced up to see an interstellar cargo vessel decelerating on approach to one of the landing fields. The thunder of the engines grew louder before the night air fell silent.
Yehftin’s wide eyes connected with Bhurtist before he turned and spoke. “Cahrvis, where the fuck are we? Swear to gods if you’re lost, I’m gonna beat you to death with your own boot.”
“Calm yourself. We’re in the cargo district.” He pointed up at a dim-lit, faded sign hanging over a metal door. “And here we are.” Cahrvis banged on the door, and a slat opened near the top.
A gruff voice boomed from it. “Whattdya want?”
“We’re a cargo flight crew with shit-piles of money, and I wanna get drunk.”
The eye behind the rectangular peep hole surveyed the group and noticed everyone but the Paavi was wearing a common uniform. The view slat slammed shut, followed by a plink. Low light emerged from a crack as the heavy door swung open.
The place was a dive, but more than half the clientele were off-world traders. Ryan grinned and caught Cahrvis raising his eyebrows.
“Eyh? Didn’t I tell you they’d serve Paavi here?”
Ryan nodded. “I think there’re more off-worlders here than I’ve seen altogether in months.”
He glanced around the room and saw various overhead screens piping in off-world sports. One had hover racing from the ice world of Liz, and there was another network Ryan recognized from Erathazion. The thought of that planet made Ryan’s skin crawl; it was one giant infestation of insects. The Erath’s had an insect fighting sport with a bug three times the size of an Earth cockroach that sported sizeable forward-facing pincers. Another screen had a game of riston from the planet Djuaru. Djuaries would have loved Earth because their riston was nearly a ringer for FIFA football. Although the ball was slightly smaller than Earth standards, the rules were very similar, save allowing defenders to swing in under the shoulders with their forearms. Watching their game and the insane fans made Ryan nostalgic.
Gazing further off under the layer of haze, Ryan spotted pipes that resembled hookahs from Earth. Ryan raised his eyebrows; smoking was illegal on Centauri.
The bar had small canula tubes piped in to provide various specialty gasses to visiting aliens. Above the bar, more monitors displayed video dramas piped in from other worlds. Soap operas from other planets were mind twisters on multiple levels.
A glass cabinet at one end of the bar displayed several types of baked or fried bug-like creatures. Ryan’s eyes moved past them to another cabinet holding bowls of sand. He watched for a moment and caught movement from some live creature moving below the surface.
At the end of the bar was a line of several terminals. Some linked to interplanetary commerce banks, and Ryan recognized the logo of one LUND used on Eitchu. His eye also caught on a familiar interface, and the corners of his mouth rose. The last terminal was piped into a system displaying cargo contracts. For the decades he had wandered lost, that terminal had been the only link Ryan had with other intelligent life. The roots of LUND had formed from that system. As he continued to look around the murky establishment, a strong sense of familiar comfort caused Ryan to nod.
The moment was interrupted as Khattara moved in close to Ryan and whispered in his ear. “Those tall pink ones over there, they’re Ohclat. Take caution; they’re all pirates.”
Ryan smiled and glanced back to her. “All of them? That’s a broad generalization, don’t you think?”
Eschala raised her eyebrows and nodded.
The group took first rounds at a small table and caught glances from all the other patrons. Ryan counted eighteen others in the first moments when they entered. The nine seated around the bar included two Paavi, five Behntak, and two Centauri. An equal number of Ohclat were gathered around a couple tables pushed together and took turns moving into a back gaming area. The logo and language on their attire suggested they were all part of a single crew. Ryan glanced into the gaming area at a table where several Ohclat were playing off the far wall. They were swinging what looked like dark wood slats as a kind of paddle or bat to strike a ball that was double the size of a ping-pong ball. Ryan could tell from the sound that the ball was hollow, and it appeared to bounce across an azure table with dimensions that resembled table tennis. Like a moth to a flame, the Sandbox ping-pong champion from Earth was drawn closer.
Several Ohclat were holding notes of money in their three gangly fingers and smiled at the curious Paavi. After he flashed the money he had to wager, they explained the game to Ryan. There was no net, but much of the rules mirrored the ping-pong he’d played long ago back on Earth at the base Sandbox cantina. In this game, backhand swings were not allowed, and a player had to quickly transfer his slat paddle between hands. Additionally, if a player struck the ball with the thin edge of his slat and won the point, he doubled his score.
The betting was spirited, and Ryan eventually squared off against the Ohclat leader. After several games, Ryan had taken most of the group’s money.
Ryan’s squad was watching him from their table. Yehftin broke the silence. “Would you look at that idiot. He’s no idea they’re gonna kill him. Looney fucking Paavi. What are we gonna do?”
Khattara took a gulp of her drink and cocked her head. She started to speak and belched loudly. “Well…I’m gonna hit the head. The Paavi can take care of himself.” With that she rose and strode past the table toward the restrooms.
The Ohclat leader missed a smash shot from Ryan on game point. His pink freckled face drew inward into a series of crinkles and folds for a moment before he roared and threw his paddle slat at Ryan’s head. The leader howled, “You’re off balance! Cheat!” As the looming figure came around the table, six more from his crew rose from their seats and moved toward the exchange.
The Centauri shared nervous glances and watched as the towering figures closed around Ryan. As Ohclat angered, they turned beet red. Ryan’s team was having a hard time seeing him behind a curtain of red arms.
Ryan smiled and raised his palms. “I do not cheat. If you feel slighted, perhaps I could return half your money.”
The leader grasped Ryan’s robe and hollered. “You’re damn right you’re gonna give up half!”
Ryan nodded. “Alright. I am but one Paavi, and there are nine of you.”
The leader looked up and motioned for eight of his crew to take a knee.
Ryan was digging in his pocket for the monetary notes when Khattara emerged from the restroom. She caught sight of the bright-red, looming Ohclat leader towering directly over Ryan with a fist full of the Paavi’s robe. Her mind snapped, and she bolted without thought toward the group. As she leapt in midair over the others, her fists flew into the group leader and decked him out cold. Pandemonium ensued, and the entire bar erupted in flying chairs and broken glass. The other Centauri stepped in and held their own with individual members of the Ohclat crew. Khattara engaged simultaneously with the remaining five, and the gangly figures didn’t stand a chance against her. Ryan ducked several swings with his palms out until he saw an Ohclat behind Eschala draw a projectile weapon and point it at her. Ryan’s eyes narrowed, and time slowed.
The creature screeched as the khukuri sailed down and chopped off half the hand holding the weapon. A few moments later, the Centauri group stood in a silent tavern save the intermittent groans from pink lumps lying on the ground. The barkeeper raised his head. “Local security’s on its way. Best get the hell outta my bar!”
Without a word the squad bolted for the back door and sprinted down a darkened alley. Using hand motions, the group retreated down several streets in silence. Ten blocks away they traversed through a park, and Khattara whooped.
Yehftin hissed, “You’re fuckin’ crazy; you could a got us all killed! Didn’t I say we were gonna get killed in some Cahrvis shithole? I’m done tonight…I’m catching the public back to campus.”
Two in the group departed from the first transport station. The remainder traveled to the next platform, and another two peeled off back to campus. Khattara and Ryan continued on as patrols intensified, looking for them. The pair ducked down behind a pile of debris as a land transport passed by. Ryan looked skyward at the adjacent building and surveyed the fire escape. He nodded toward the building and motioned for Khattara to follow him.
Four rungs up the ladder, she tugged on his leg and shook her head. She whispered, “Trapped on top.”
Ryan smiled and pointed skyward. He murmured, “Rex inbound.”
On the flight back to campus, Ryan spoke softly. “You shouldn’t have intervened. I had it handled.”
Eschala smiled and cocked her head. “Oh, yeah; I could see you had it all under control.”
Ryan huffed. “I did, but this one’s on me…it’s my fault. I know better.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“They were Ohclat; their culture focuses on balance. They’re obsessed with it. If you push a one-sided scenario on them, they react. I was having such a great time playing all those games that I lost sight of the fact that I’d won every one of them. That upended the balance, and it dishonored them. Do you get it now?”
“Sure, but you want me to stand by while some mob attacks you?”
“I was fine; they can’t hurt me. I didn’t care about the wagers or the winnings. I don’t need any of it. I’d have gladly given it all back to restore the peace. Now some poor bastard Ohclat’s missing half a hand.”
