Confluence, p.28
Confluence, page 28
“…dear, have you met my nephew...”
Khattara painted a rigid smile on her face and continued to nod at each as she passed with haste.
The warrior made her escape, traversed to the front entry, and activated the central system on a touchscreen. She glanced at a stairway landing on the front wall of the grand entry room before her eyes read over five alerts: crash landing…east landing pad…closure of the entire east wing…fire…radiation…survivors.
The more she read, the faster she scanned. Her head shook as she thought, When did this…It just happened.
Her eye caught on a description of one of the survivors, a Paavi. What? He saved the grand marshal…How did…
Khattara’s large brown eyes shot up toward the second floor and then lowered back, following the curved grand staircase to a certain spot. Gazing at it, she couldn’t help but recall the crimson spatter on the wall where the lifeless body had come to rest. Although it had been so many years since the attack that had taken Khorthat, she’d never again used this path to reach the second floor. Ever since that night, Khattara would travel a fair detour to use other stairs, but tonight, a sense of urgency overshadowed the need to sidestep where her beloved mentor had fallen. Ascending the steps to the spot, she slowed momentarily and closed her eyes. Khattara drew in a large breath as her fingertips grazed across the wall. Her eyes opened ahead to the second floor, and she accelerated past in the climb up the remaining flight of steps.
Her destination was Bayhden’s study; it was the second office on the left. As she reached the last few steps at the top, she saw the shadow of a figure eclipse a faint light coming through the cracked doorway.
The surface of the staircase landing was a polished stone, and Khattara was in formal heels. She grimaced at the clopping sound and carefully stepped more softly until she reached the runners.
The center textiles were royal themed, reflecting the various family banner colors and patterns, and ran the length of the upper hall. Once on the fabric, she increased her gait. Her long stride was quick, elegant, and silent on a direct path toward the study.
Ryan was standing in the middle of the darkened room between the door and Bayden’s desk. He pivoted as the door flew open once again. Bright light from the hallway spilled in around a figure that came through with urgency, yet smoothly enough to make little noise. The shape of the silhouette and her movements were familiar.
The grand marshal and General Bayhden were standing together at the end of his desk, and they were fully consumed reviewing digital reconnaissance photos under a dim light cast down from a desk lamp. Their focus on the pictures had been a distraction that saved the Paavi from further questions about the Daerk intel he’d provided earlier.
Ryan felt as though he was spinning on a carnival ride as he gazed at her standing just inside the doorway. Khattara’s head cocked when she saw his hand come away from his sidearm. She glanced at the grand marshal and her uncle before looking back to Ryan. As her vision adjusted to the lower light, she saw the general disorder of Ryan’s dress. It confirmed there was more going on than a crash landing; there’d been a battle. Her head turned slowly toward the desk, and the other two took casual notice of her presence.
Looking back to Ryan, she surveyed him more closely. It was unusual to see him outside of his Paavi robe; in fact, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever seen him out of it. He was wearing a more traditional flight suit that was missing most of the right arm. In place of the sleeve, a thin strap was lashed around his forearm. The corner of his right eye was so bloodshot that it looked solid red from the pupil to the outside edge, and it was framed under a swollen eyelid. She could see what looked like a burn ring around his wrist where he typically wore a copper bracelet.
She spoke in a low whisper to Ryan. “What’s happened?”
He stood motionless, gazing at her. After a few seconds, she saw him smile in response, but he didn’t reply.
Looking closer she could also see a darker spot that looked to be blood in the corner of his mouth. “You look as though a building collapsed upon you.”
The grand marshal was still looking down at images on the desk when he huffed. “Building, no; some ships, yes.”
“Some?” Khattara looked at Ryan with a raised eyebrow.
Without taking his eyes from photos on several tablets spread across his desk, the general spoke up softly. “Khattara, Mr. Walach has been injured and is currently bleeding on my good rug. Could you please give us the room and see to it that he receives proper medical attention?”
Ryan looked down and felt a wetness between his fingers; the wound on his forearm had reopened. He closed his hand and brought it up like a damaged wing to his chest. One corner of his mouth cocked upward as he looked over and down on the ornate rug where he’d spilled.
Ryan’s gaze rose back up and locked on Khattara Eschala. Holding silent, he opened and closed his eyes as he looked at her. The outline of her form was backlit from the hallway. For a moment it looked as though she was eclipsed by the same brilliant blue as the light that had shone from Dvarah’s eyes. The sight before him framed an angelic picture, and her presence dampened his sense of loss. Ryan’s head cocked, and his lips silently mouthed, angel of light.
Khattara barked, “Right; you’re with me.” She reached out and snatched his uninjured left hand.
Ryan glanced at the GM and the general as the angry angel yanked him through the doorway and into the bright hallway.
Without bothering to look back, she boomed, “Down here.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Once they’d cleared the room, the general looked to the GM. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“Like I said before, all ships had just checked in after the pivot when the Daerk attacked.” He motioned down at images on the tablets taken by armada ships in the final moments. “They had a cruiser, two destroyers, and at least five frigates; there’s no way it was a chance meeting. They knew we were coming and unloaded on us without any warning. It was a textbook ambush. We didn’t stand a chance.”
Bayhden motioned at the images. “This telemetry confirms they fired on all our ships. It’s not likely there were any survivors.”
The GM shook his head. “Can’t see how there would be.”
Bayhden closed his eyes. “So many.”
“Over a thousand on the flag ship...just over thirty-two hundred in the battle group.”
“Hedthan Jhaltho and I served together many years ago on the Phantehdes.” Bayhden’s head shook slowly. “We were just at his youngest daughter’s pairing ceremony...last harvest season, was it?”
The GM nodded. “I remember. It was a wonderful day, and he was a great captain.”
The general nodded at one of the tablets. “This particular battle group that jumped you was new to us. That cruiser in particular is a monster. The sea of these creatures seems unending. How the hell’d you get out of there?”
“Your Paavi…I dunno know where he came from. He just appeared on the bridge and told me it was time to go. Conduits and consoles were blowing all around us, and he says cool and calm, ‘quickly, please.’ I remember Hedthan making the call to abandon ship, and there were more explosions…bigger ones…probably breaches. There was a lot of confusion. I tell ya, I walked arm in arm with that Paavi through a couple darkened compartments.”
The GM shook his head. “The way the flames were dancin’ around between airlocks, I’m pretty sure the area was compromised to space. That and the way he had a hold of me, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but he musta’ had some kind of localized shielding on us.” Sahn nodded. “And I remember he was talkin’ to someone. I could see his lips moving but no idea what he was saying or to whom. There was heavy smoke everywhere, low-level emergency lighting…periodic explosions. Somehow we picked our way down to where my shuttle was. The hangar deck took a direct hit right after we entered, and a mass of baffling and beam work came right down on top of us. I can’t explain how he held that mass off me. None of it touched me, not a scratch. Then we launched only to find ourselves staring down the barrel of a Daerk destroyer coming right for us.”
The GM huffed. “A big sucker, and right on top of us. I was still sittin’ in the cockpit after granting system access to the Paavi. As that destroyer bore down on us, I made my peace and thought ‘well, that’s it.’” The grand marshal looked off. “Then these,” he motioned, “two or three massive waves of fire from behind us.” He shook his head. “They just annihilated that ship. Bayhden, there was so much fire coming from all around us. I tell ya, the entire space was white with fire. I had a hand over my eyes. I honestly don’t know how we weren’t friendlied in the middle of it. I was peeking through my fingers, and between waves, I saw that Daerk destroyer get carved up. Debris floated everywhere as major segments were completely severed. Whatever fired on it cut that Daerk destroyer to shreds inside the number of seconds you could count on two hands.”
Bayhden listened with furrowed brow and glanced down at a schematic of the flag ship on his tablet. “Do you think it was Captain Jhaltho returning fire on that destroyer with the Nemephstof?”
“It couldn’t a been. The Nemephstof was dead in the water when the Paavi pulled me off the command deck. Even at full power, she couldn’t have taken that destroyer out in three or four volleys. It happened so fast…like nothing I’ve ever seen. This section of the galaxy’s never seen firepower like that; it was blinding. The whole engagement was surreal.”
“If that’s true, then who was it that fired?”
“Who, indeed? More importantly, would they be willing to form an alliance with us?”
Bayhden studied an image transmitted off the stern of the Nemephstof moments before it was lost. He could make out the shadow of a vessel. “There was more than one of them. The shadow of this vessel is from the fire of another. Neither matches the position of any of ours. You didn’t happen to get a look at any of them, did you?”
“No, but I have another idea.”
Bayhden looked over at the grand marshal.
“If you were in the trenches with allied forces laying down blistering fire on your left and right flanks, what would happen if you jumped up and charged on the enemy?”
Bayhden shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’d get hit unless they directed their fire around you…” The general’s eyebrows rose.
“Add it up, Bayhden. The Paavi’s involvement would resolve a preponderance of luck and circumstance.” Sahn chuckled. “I’m lucky, but not nearly enough to survive what I did today.”
“Grand Marshal, I need to make you aware of additional recent intel regarding the Paavi. Yesterday I received a briefing from my niece.” He motioned toward the door. “The one that was just here with us in the room. She was on a fact-finding mission to Eitchu to discover more about your Paavi rescuer. Records of his past and origins are suspect. He has a deep familiarity with the Daerk, perhaps some kind of relationship with them. He’s not what he appears, and there’s no way he’s entirely Paavi.”
The grand marshal smiled at Bayhden. “Aligned with Daerk?” He huffed. “A brand-new fleet of them we didn’t know about just tried to kill the both of us...and lost. And not entirely Paavi? Really? I hope you didn’t pay too much for the second part of that intel. Regarding the first tip, I’d question your source.”
Bayhden nodded. “I understand how it sounds, but he appears to know more about the Daerk than the sum of our collective intelligence gathering.”
“Let me ask you, Bayhden, if you were out among them plying the commerce lines and could learn more, would you?”
“That’s different. My objectives are entirely different.”
“Really? I should think your motives are aligned, especially if he represents a species that’s new to us. To our knowledge, the Daerk refuse alliances and attack every species indiscriminately. If you extend the trendline of that behavior, a new and advanced species with the right capabilities would repel them.”
“Perhaps, but respectfully, why’d he save you?”
Sahn thought for a moment. “He did admit to a great deal of knowledge about the smaller Daerk-like creature. He asked quite a few questions about it while we were en route.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Maybe he came too late for the creature and saved me in the hopes that I might have information about it.”
Bayhden thought for a moment and nodded. “You know, a minute ago he said something odd. What was it? Something about the Daerk relentlessly pursuing the opposing force. Were they separate or called separate? Separates? As you well know, I’ve spent my entire life studying the creatures that killed my older brother. I’ve spoken to countless drunk pirates, and there’s no common rumor about these so-called Separates. Before tonight, I’ve never heard of any such thing.”
The GM smiled. “Perhaps then our Paavi and the Separates are somehow related?”
“If he’s operating as a foreign agent, it’s hard to know what his agenda is or if it’s symbiotic with ours.”
“I’m living proof of some level of cooperation. If these Separates are enemies of the Daerk, they’re my new best friends. Besides, he could have just left me behind, but instead he nearly died gettin’ me outta there. Why?”
“If the Paavi is a lone actor, then his actions are heroic. If he’s part of some larger force, their agenda is questionable. From what you saw, this mystery force has the capacity to wipe out an entire Daerk armada. Why’d they wait to act until thirty-two hundred of our bravest had perished? That’s not aligned with our agenda.”
Sahn’s eyes connected with the general’s. “We agree on one thing: We need to know more about your Mr. Walach. Somehow he walked me through compromised compartments and flew us through a barrage that took down an entire Daerk battlegroup. I been doin’ this a long time; what I saw today was more than luck. Bayhden, your lifetime of study makes you the right one to find out what this Daerk-familiar not-entirely-Paavi is up to. With his involvement at your college, do you think you can secure more intel about Mr. Walach?”
Bayhden nodded for a few seconds. “I know who can get more information for us, but she’s not gonna like it.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Khattara Eschala tugged Ryan by his arm like a parent trying to extract a child from a toy store. His steps were small and choppy as he gawked up and around at the grandeur of the royal hallway. A tattered moving package of dust and dried blood, his head swiveled around until his eyes came back down to Eschala. Her gait was long, balanced, and powerful; she was the picture of form and elegance.
Ryan had never seen her dressed in formal attire. Her jet-black, curly locks were pulled back and piled high into a large beehive. As he trod along in tow, his eyes traveled down to her hand. It was framed by the triangular cuff of a long tight sleeve. The longest point of her cuff covered the top of her hand and drew back in a diamond shape to expose the underside of her wrist. Ryan’s wide eyes traveled up the silk-like arm. The base color was a royal blue, but there was a second, translucent outer layer with a mother-of-pearl glow. The sleeves covered her upper arms but opened just past to reveal bare shoulders. The top V shape plunged across her chest, and the reverse cutout revealed most of her back. The material narrowed at the waist and emphasized her hips. The bottom of the gown was black as open space; its matte finish swallowed reflections and shadows. The colors met diagonally, with upper royal-blue fabric hugging down over one hip to the midpoint between her knee and waist. The bottom onyx fabric rose up the opposite side to a midpoint between her arm and hipbone. The bottom of the dress reached her ankles and narrowed in from her hips. Her gait stepped through a long slit that ran high up on her thigh.
As they walked down the corridor, Ryan rolled his arm over and looked at the fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. He stared at the perfection of Eschala’s nails, which were long enough to be elegant without sacrificing utility. Large moons extended under the nail bed and held perfect arcs. She was the fiercest warrior in the kingdom, and her hands were known to be deadly weapons. And yet he was taken by the revelation of Eschala’s small and delicate-looking fingers. Stumbling along in a stupor, he twisted his arm back and forth as his gaze continued to fixate on her flawless, glowing olive skin. Eschala glanced back, and after noticing the inspection, she yanked her hand away.
His eyes rose to meet hers as she stopped and faced him in the passage. Without breaking eye contact, she motioned with a pointed finger into a side doorway. Ryan stumbled into a smaller utility room ringed with counters and brighter lights. After his head tipped up and around, surveying the room, he looked back to Eschala. She made a patting motion on the countertop of a center island, and Ryan sat up on it.
He watched intently as she dug around in a drawer and pulled a bag from a cabinet. She turned back and looked at him for a few seconds. “You alright? Why don’t you speak?”
He gazed into her dark-brown eyes and traced around the brilliant violet edges. His head nodded slightly, and he mumbled, “Br…brown and violet.”
She stared into his eyes and cracked a smile. “Have you been struck in the head?” Her eyes traveled higher and inspected him for evidence of an impact. Her arm rose, and she put her fingertips on a goose egg above Ryan’s right temple. He winced as she pressed on it.
“There?”
He nodded under her touch and looked up in the direction of the bump. As she drew near to look closer at it, he could smell her. The scent was neither a flowery perfume nor an odor but something he’d sensed a few times when she’d passed near. Ryan’s heightened sense of smell registered a slight musk-like essence that was, ironically enough, earthy. At that moment, it was neither strange nor exciting, but familiar and calming; it was Eschala.
She noted a halo of dust in his hair and a fine layer that had tinted the fabric of his suit. “You really did a number on yourself.” Her head pulled back, and she raised an eyebrow. “Did you fly home in this state?”
Khattara painted a rigid smile on her face and continued to nod at each as she passed with haste.
The warrior made her escape, traversed to the front entry, and activated the central system on a touchscreen. She glanced at a stairway landing on the front wall of the grand entry room before her eyes read over five alerts: crash landing…east landing pad…closure of the entire east wing…fire…radiation…survivors.
The more she read, the faster she scanned. Her head shook as she thought, When did this…It just happened.
Her eye caught on a description of one of the survivors, a Paavi. What? He saved the grand marshal…How did…
Khattara’s large brown eyes shot up toward the second floor and then lowered back, following the curved grand staircase to a certain spot. Gazing at it, she couldn’t help but recall the crimson spatter on the wall where the lifeless body had come to rest. Although it had been so many years since the attack that had taken Khorthat, she’d never again used this path to reach the second floor. Ever since that night, Khattara would travel a fair detour to use other stairs, but tonight, a sense of urgency overshadowed the need to sidestep where her beloved mentor had fallen. Ascending the steps to the spot, she slowed momentarily and closed her eyes. Khattara drew in a large breath as her fingertips grazed across the wall. Her eyes opened ahead to the second floor, and she accelerated past in the climb up the remaining flight of steps.
Her destination was Bayhden’s study; it was the second office on the left. As she reached the last few steps at the top, she saw the shadow of a figure eclipse a faint light coming through the cracked doorway.
The surface of the staircase landing was a polished stone, and Khattara was in formal heels. She grimaced at the clopping sound and carefully stepped more softly until she reached the runners.
The center textiles were royal themed, reflecting the various family banner colors and patterns, and ran the length of the upper hall. Once on the fabric, she increased her gait. Her long stride was quick, elegant, and silent on a direct path toward the study.
Ryan was standing in the middle of the darkened room between the door and Bayden’s desk. He pivoted as the door flew open once again. Bright light from the hallway spilled in around a figure that came through with urgency, yet smoothly enough to make little noise. The shape of the silhouette and her movements were familiar.
The grand marshal and General Bayhden were standing together at the end of his desk, and they were fully consumed reviewing digital reconnaissance photos under a dim light cast down from a desk lamp. Their focus on the pictures had been a distraction that saved the Paavi from further questions about the Daerk intel he’d provided earlier.
Ryan felt as though he was spinning on a carnival ride as he gazed at her standing just inside the doorway. Khattara’s head cocked when she saw his hand come away from his sidearm. She glanced at the grand marshal and her uncle before looking back to Ryan. As her vision adjusted to the lower light, she saw the general disorder of Ryan’s dress. It confirmed there was more going on than a crash landing; there’d been a battle. Her head turned slowly toward the desk, and the other two took casual notice of her presence.
Looking back to Ryan, she surveyed him more closely. It was unusual to see him outside of his Paavi robe; in fact, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever seen him out of it. He was wearing a more traditional flight suit that was missing most of the right arm. In place of the sleeve, a thin strap was lashed around his forearm. The corner of his right eye was so bloodshot that it looked solid red from the pupil to the outside edge, and it was framed under a swollen eyelid. She could see what looked like a burn ring around his wrist where he typically wore a copper bracelet.
She spoke in a low whisper to Ryan. “What’s happened?”
He stood motionless, gazing at her. After a few seconds, she saw him smile in response, but he didn’t reply.
Looking closer she could also see a darker spot that looked to be blood in the corner of his mouth. “You look as though a building collapsed upon you.”
The grand marshal was still looking down at images on the desk when he huffed. “Building, no; some ships, yes.”
“Some?” Khattara looked at Ryan with a raised eyebrow.
Without taking his eyes from photos on several tablets spread across his desk, the general spoke up softly. “Khattara, Mr. Walach has been injured and is currently bleeding on my good rug. Could you please give us the room and see to it that he receives proper medical attention?”
Ryan looked down and felt a wetness between his fingers; the wound on his forearm had reopened. He closed his hand and brought it up like a damaged wing to his chest. One corner of his mouth cocked upward as he looked over and down on the ornate rug where he’d spilled.
Ryan’s gaze rose back up and locked on Khattara Eschala. Holding silent, he opened and closed his eyes as he looked at her. The outline of her form was backlit from the hallway. For a moment it looked as though she was eclipsed by the same brilliant blue as the light that had shone from Dvarah’s eyes. The sight before him framed an angelic picture, and her presence dampened his sense of loss. Ryan’s head cocked, and his lips silently mouthed, angel of light.
Khattara barked, “Right; you’re with me.” She reached out and snatched his uninjured left hand.
Ryan glanced at the GM and the general as the angry angel yanked him through the doorway and into the bright hallway.
Without bothering to look back, she boomed, “Down here.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Once they’d cleared the room, the general looked to the GM. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“Like I said before, all ships had just checked in after the pivot when the Daerk attacked.” He motioned down at images on the tablets taken by armada ships in the final moments. “They had a cruiser, two destroyers, and at least five frigates; there’s no way it was a chance meeting. They knew we were coming and unloaded on us without any warning. It was a textbook ambush. We didn’t stand a chance.”
Bayhden motioned at the images. “This telemetry confirms they fired on all our ships. It’s not likely there were any survivors.”
The GM shook his head. “Can’t see how there would be.”
Bayhden closed his eyes. “So many.”
“Over a thousand on the flag ship...just over thirty-two hundred in the battle group.”
“Hedthan Jhaltho and I served together many years ago on the Phantehdes.” Bayhden’s head shook slowly. “We were just at his youngest daughter’s pairing ceremony...last harvest season, was it?”
The GM nodded. “I remember. It was a wonderful day, and he was a great captain.”
The general nodded at one of the tablets. “This particular battle group that jumped you was new to us. That cruiser in particular is a monster. The sea of these creatures seems unending. How the hell’d you get out of there?”
“Your Paavi…I dunno know where he came from. He just appeared on the bridge and told me it was time to go. Conduits and consoles were blowing all around us, and he says cool and calm, ‘quickly, please.’ I remember Hedthan making the call to abandon ship, and there were more explosions…bigger ones…probably breaches. There was a lot of confusion. I tell ya, I walked arm in arm with that Paavi through a couple darkened compartments.”
The GM shook his head. “The way the flames were dancin’ around between airlocks, I’m pretty sure the area was compromised to space. That and the way he had a hold of me, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but he musta’ had some kind of localized shielding on us.” Sahn nodded. “And I remember he was talkin’ to someone. I could see his lips moving but no idea what he was saying or to whom. There was heavy smoke everywhere, low-level emergency lighting…periodic explosions. Somehow we picked our way down to where my shuttle was. The hangar deck took a direct hit right after we entered, and a mass of baffling and beam work came right down on top of us. I can’t explain how he held that mass off me. None of it touched me, not a scratch. Then we launched only to find ourselves staring down the barrel of a Daerk destroyer coming right for us.”
The GM huffed. “A big sucker, and right on top of us. I was still sittin’ in the cockpit after granting system access to the Paavi. As that destroyer bore down on us, I made my peace and thought ‘well, that’s it.’” The grand marshal looked off. “Then these,” he motioned, “two or three massive waves of fire from behind us.” He shook his head. “They just annihilated that ship. Bayhden, there was so much fire coming from all around us. I tell ya, the entire space was white with fire. I had a hand over my eyes. I honestly don’t know how we weren’t friendlied in the middle of it. I was peeking through my fingers, and between waves, I saw that Daerk destroyer get carved up. Debris floated everywhere as major segments were completely severed. Whatever fired on it cut that Daerk destroyer to shreds inside the number of seconds you could count on two hands.”
Bayhden listened with furrowed brow and glanced down at a schematic of the flag ship on his tablet. “Do you think it was Captain Jhaltho returning fire on that destroyer with the Nemephstof?”
“It couldn’t a been. The Nemephstof was dead in the water when the Paavi pulled me off the command deck. Even at full power, she couldn’t have taken that destroyer out in three or four volleys. It happened so fast…like nothing I’ve ever seen. This section of the galaxy’s never seen firepower like that; it was blinding. The whole engagement was surreal.”
“If that’s true, then who was it that fired?”
“Who, indeed? More importantly, would they be willing to form an alliance with us?”
Bayhden studied an image transmitted off the stern of the Nemephstof moments before it was lost. He could make out the shadow of a vessel. “There was more than one of them. The shadow of this vessel is from the fire of another. Neither matches the position of any of ours. You didn’t happen to get a look at any of them, did you?”
“No, but I have another idea.”
Bayhden looked over at the grand marshal.
“If you were in the trenches with allied forces laying down blistering fire on your left and right flanks, what would happen if you jumped up and charged on the enemy?”
Bayhden shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’d get hit unless they directed their fire around you…” The general’s eyebrows rose.
“Add it up, Bayhden. The Paavi’s involvement would resolve a preponderance of luck and circumstance.” Sahn chuckled. “I’m lucky, but not nearly enough to survive what I did today.”
“Grand Marshal, I need to make you aware of additional recent intel regarding the Paavi. Yesterday I received a briefing from my niece.” He motioned toward the door. “The one that was just here with us in the room. She was on a fact-finding mission to Eitchu to discover more about your Paavi rescuer. Records of his past and origins are suspect. He has a deep familiarity with the Daerk, perhaps some kind of relationship with them. He’s not what he appears, and there’s no way he’s entirely Paavi.”
The grand marshal smiled at Bayhden. “Aligned with Daerk?” He huffed. “A brand-new fleet of them we didn’t know about just tried to kill the both of us...and lost. And not entirely Paavi? Really? I hope you didn’t pay too much for the second part of that intel. Regarding the first tip, I’d question your source.”
Bayhden nodded. “I understand how it sounds, but he appears to know more about the Daerk than the sum of our collective intelligence gathering.”
“Let me ask you, Bayhden, if you were out among them plying the commerce lines and could learn more, would you?”
“That’s different. My objectives are entirely different.”
“Really? I should think your motives are aligned, especially if he represents a species that’s new to us. To our knowledge, the Daerk refuse alliances and attack every species indiscriminately. If you extend the trendline of that behavior, a new and advanced species with the right capabilities would repel them.”
“Perhaps, but respectfully, why’d he save you?”
Sahn thought for a moment. “He did admit to a great deal of knowledge about the smaller Daerk-like creature. He asked quite a few questions about it while we were en route.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Maybe he came too late for the creature and saved me in the hopes that I might have information about it.”
Bayhden thought for a moment and nodded. “You know, a minute ago he said something odd. What was it? Something about the Daerk relentlessly pursuing the opposing force. Were they separate or called separate? Separates? As you well know, I’ve spent my entire life studying the creatures that killed my older brother. I’ve spoken to countless drunk pirates, and there’s no common rumor about these so-called Separates. Before tonight, I’ve never heard of any such thing.”
The GM smiled. “Perhaps then our Paavi and the Separates are somehow related?”
“If he’s operating as a foreign agent, it’s hard to know what his agenda is or if it’s symbiotic with ours.”
“I’m living proof of some level of cooperation. If these Separates are enemies of the Daerk, they’re my new best friends. Besides, he could have just left me behind, but instead he nearly died gettin’ me outta there. Why?”
“If the Paavi is a lone actor, then his actions are heroic. If he’s part of some larger force, their agenda is questionable. From what you saw, this mystery force has the capacity to wipe out an entire Daerk armada. Why’d they wait to act until thirty-two hundred of our bravest had perished? That’s not aligned with our agenda.”
Sahn’s eyes connected with the general’s. “We agree on one thing: We need to know more about your Mr. Walach. Somehow he walked me through compromised compartments and flew us through a barrage that took down an entire Daerk battlegroup. I been doin’ this a long time; what I saw today was more than luck. Bayhden, your lifetime of study makes you the right one to find out what this Daerk-familiar not-entirely-Paavi is up to. With his involvement at your college, do you think you can secure more intel about Mr. Walach?”
Bayhden nodded for a few seconds. “I know who can get more information for us, but she’s not gonna like it.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Khattara Eschala tugged Ryan by his arm like a parent trying to extract a child from a toy store. His steps were small and choppy as he gawked up and around at the grandeur of the royal hallway. A tattered moving package of dust and dried blood, his head swiveled around until his eyes came back down to Eschala. Her gait was long, balanced, and powerful; she was the picture of form and elegance.
Ryan had never seen her dressed in formal attire. Her jet-black, curly locks were pulled back and piled high into a large beehive. As he trod along in tow, his eyes traveled down to her hand. It was framed by the triangular cuff of a long tight sleeve. The longest point of her cuff covered the top of her hand and drew back in a diamond shape to expose the underside of her wrist. Ryan’s wide eyes traveled up the silk-like arm. The base color was a royal blue, but there was a second, translucent outer layer with a mother-of-pearl glow. The sleeves covered her upper arms but opened just past to reveal bare shoulders. The top V shape plunged across her chest, and the reverse cutout revealed most of her back. The material narrowed at the waist and emphasized her hips. The bottom of the gown was black as open space; its matte finish swallowed reflections and shadows. The colors met diagonally, with upper royal-blue fabric hugging down over one hip to the midpoint between her knee and waist. The bottom onyx fabric rose up the opposite side to a midpoint between her arm and hipbone. The bottom of the dress reached her ankles and narrowed in from her hips. Her gait stepped through a long slit that ran high up on her thigh.
As they walked down the corridor, Ryan rolled his arm over and looked at the fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. He stared at the perfection of Eschala’s nails, which were long enough to be elegant without sacrificing utility. Large moons extended under the nail bed and held perfect arcs. She was the fiercest warrior in the kingdom, and her hands were known to be deadly weapons. And yet he was taken by the revelation of Eschala’s small and delicate-looking fingers. Stumbling along in a stupor, he twisted his arm back and forth as his gaze continued to fixate on her flawless, glowing olive skin. Eschala glanced back, and after noticing the inspection, she yanked her hand away.
His eyes rose to meet hers as she stopped and faced him in the passage. Without breaking eye contact, she motioned with a pointed finger into a side doorway. Ryan stumbled into a smaller utility room ringed with counters and brighter lights. After his head tipped up and around, surveying the room, he looked back to Eschala. She made a patting motion on the countertop of a center island, and Ryan sat up on it.
He watched intently as she dug around in a drawer and pulled a bag from a cabinet. She turned back and looked at him for a few seconds. “You alright? Why don’t you speak?”
He gazed into her dark-brown eyes and traced around the brilliant violet edges. His head nodded slightly, and he mumbled, “Br…brown and violet.”
She stared into his eyes and cracked a smile. “Have you been struck in the head?” Her eyes traveled higher and inspected him for evidence of an impact. Her arm rose, and she put her fingertips on a goose egg above Ryan’s right temple. He winced as she pressed on it.
“There?”
He nodded under her touch and looked up in the direction of the bump. As she drew near to look closer at it, he could smell her. The scent was neither a flowery perfume nor an odor but something he’d sensed a few times when she’d passed near. Ryan’s heightened sense of smell registered a slight musk-like essence that was, ironically enough, earthy. At that moment, it was neither strange nor exciting, but familiar and calming; it was Eschala.
She noted a halo of dust in his hair and a fine layer that had tinted the fabric of his suit. “You really did a number on yourself.” Her head pulled back, and she raised an eyebrow. “Did you fly home in this state?”
