Confluence, p.7
Confluence, page 7
“I dunno, Vi. I been seein’ things from long ago, things I thought I’d long since released. There’re triggers here I don’t fully understand. And before you say it, I’d agree to suspend the op, but the old man was pretty emphatic about continuing. There’s something I have to do or learn here.”
“Do you believe the Maker could be in error or misinterpreting the situation?”
“That’s an even more disturbing thought. For now we hold course, and I lean a little more on your advice. Please power the gate and have Rex prepare the skiff.”
After a short descent down to the planetary surface, the skiff portal motor whirred as it opened. Ryan rose and spoke off to the side. “Thanks for the ride, buddy.” The lights flickered as he exited. Ryan drew up his hood and walked to the edge of the landing pad toward stairs that led down to a glass doorway. A short elevator ride put him street side into the full bustle of the city.
The central security and finance building was two blocks down and three up from his current location. Ryan noted few individuals in Zihf Khefton that appeared to be from off-world. Even beyond the confines of the military academy, Ryan drew stares inside the city’s central district. He gathered that residents here didn’t see Paavi very often, and the lack of familiarity was something he could use to his advantage in the coming interview.
A few minutes later, Ryan stood in the front desk lobby of a fifty-five-story glass building. There were delays arranging authorization and a visitor badge for his entry. As the security detail worked through calls and different database systems, Ryan wandered into a reception area. Looking outside, he could see thousands of Centauri businesspeople milling through the city toward the beginning of their workday. The population density reminded him of his adopted Paavi home world. He quietly chanted a prayer and wished he was back on Eitchu. When he squinted his eyes, he imagined all the silhouettes outside were Paavi.
◊ ◊ ◊
As the agents in the room converged upon her, Khattara couldn’t remove her coat fast enough. Dozens of little voices and hands swarmed impatiently around her.
“Hello, hello, hello!” She bent down and smiled warmly from a place deep within her soul. Many hugs were shared.
The woman in front of the kindergartners was Miss Eschala. Officially, the school knew their part-time volunteer teacher as Eschala Tsuranvia. She’d provided her mother’s maiden name as her surname. While no one at the little school knew her formal identity, they were perhaps the ones who knew her best.
Over the years Her Highness Khattara Uldago Eschala Menduvalli had cultivated a reputation as an unapproachable recluse. Because of early attempts on her life, there were only glimpses of her in public, and even then the security around her was thick. Without interaction or activity, she was no longer news. Her name was rarely mentioned in the press, save some sad anniversary to replay the “royal tragedy.”
Nevertheless, some parents were bold enough to ask about the resemblance. Miss Eschala would smile, shrug, and use her standard line. You know, I’ve been told I look like her. I don’t see it, but it sure would be nice to live the life of a princess! Khattara had to practice the lines in the mirror and learn to sell the last part with a smile.
More than usual, Miss Eschala had looked forward to class today because it was Royal Day. All over Centauri and beyond in the kingdom, the holiday was a celebration of the crown. Upon her return from Shorcanton, Khattara’s reputation had been stained with question and shame; the holiday had always drawn a long shadow over her. Year after year while the extended family stood proud, parading through streets with puffed feathers, she had always lain flat with dread. This year was different. Today Miss Eschala sought nothing more than a parade of glue sticks and colored markers with her favorite little people.
She glanced around the class and noticed the entire room had been made up to celebrate the crown. The children had dressed up for the day; the historical puffy princess dresses especially caught her eye. Even the lead teacher, Miss Rhehlven, was wearing a long flowing gown. Miss Eschala’s hand rose over her upper chest, and she smiled politely in an effort to cover her sense of anxiety at the sight. The children were all dressed innocently in formal dress just as she once had, before Shorcanton. The shadow of her past had cast into a space that was innocent and true.
Khattara Eschala looked to Miss Rhehlven, and her head bobbed with quick, shallow nods. “Wow. Everything looks so…royal.”
“The children had so wanted to dress for the day. Did you get my message?”
Khattara’s mind flashed back to the past couple days of quick boots through narrow valleys, converging hunter-killer squads, and dull-edged blades across the necks of her enemies as they slept.
Miss Eschala flashed a bright smile. “So sorry, Miss Rhehlven. I’ve been runnin’ ragged the last few days and haven’t been at a terminal.”
Miss Eschala felt something on her pant leg, and she looked down to see a little boy named Jhelen. This one in particular was special, and his story wove into her hope for a better future. A few years earlier, Jhelen had survived a horrific crash. The accident had taken not only his arm and most of a shoulder but also the life of his mother. Khattara had masked her familiarity with such an incalculable loss and physical harm. He was still learning to use an actuated prosthetic. While it did provide greater strength than his original biological arm, he had yet to master the speed in directing it. The loss of mobility did not deter him. Khattara couldn’t help but smile in celebration of his fearlessness. Jhelen was unstoppable. It was truly a gift to witness him swinging around at recess with other children. All her life she’d desperately clung to a belief that transcending tragedy made her differently abled, stronger. Jhelen personified the possibility of a truth she desperately clung to.
Miss Eschala squatted down to eye level and smiled bright. “What’s up, Mr. Jhelen?”
He patted her shoulder and nodded as he spoke. “You don’t need a dress because a princess doesn’t need a dress to be a princess.”
She squeezed his shoulder and beamed brighter. “You’re very sweet, but I’m not a princess.”
He nodded and emphatically winked one eye.
Before she could respond, a loud scream arose from outside in the hallway. All eyes looked up as a scowling man with a face flushed in purple burst through the class door. The front secretary, Mrs. Hyndsle, had a tight grasp with both hands around one of the angry man’s arms, and he dragged her by her heels into the class. On first sight Miss Rhehlven recognized him as the father of a student named Sinthan. The man’s glare traversed the class until he spotted his daughter and made a direct line toward her. Miss Rhehlven knew Sinthan’s parents were going through an ugly separation, and there had been violence in the home. As a result of recent legal action, Sinthan’s father had been ordered to stay clear of both mother and daughter.
The man boomed, “Sinthan!”
As he barged deeper into the room toward her, several tables and desks were displaced violently. Miss Rhehlven approached quickly with hands waving in front of her. The man’s giant paw swatted the teacher to the side, and the children screamed as their teacher sailed through the air. Miss Rhehlven landed on a turned-over table, and her limp body ricocheted to the floor. The man stormed forward through other children, and two small forms were knocked away. Miss Eschala strained through a dim haze at the violent commotion that had invaded this place. Her gaze centered on children crying on the floor, and she instantly felt the presence of her pistol in the small of her back.
Khattara snapped sharp like a bardthol diving on target. In an instant she eclipsed the angry man’s focus, inserting herself directly into his path. The man’s snarl squared against Khattara’s blank expression, and she lay in wait. As he swung at her face, Khattara parried clear and snatched his wrist as it passed. With augmented strength, her fingers dug deep into soft tissue. He grunted as she twisted his arm up and around. His body spun around in response, and Khattara hit him in the back with the heel of her other hand. She pivoted into the strike with full mod strength from her hips and sent the man flying off his feet across the room into the wall. He ricocheted off and fell unconscious to the ground. The impact was strong enough that it put a hole in the wallboard.
Sinthan screamed, “Vhabba!” and rushed past Khattara Eschala to her father.
Mrs. Hyndsle had her hands on Miss Rhehlven’s shoulders and helped her sit up. Both of them gawked at their assistant teacher with wide eyes. Miss Eschala looked at her hands, to their eyes, and then around to all the children. She shook her head slightly and looked back to Miss Rhehlven. “I…I’m sorry.” With hearts racing, Miss Eschala flew from the room, tore down the hall, blasted through the outer door, and raced away down the street.
◊ ◊ ◊
The counter agent looked up over her glasses at the Paavi. “Mr. Walach, I’m terribly sorry regarding your appointment, but we don’t seem to have a security clearance prepared for someone of your…type.”
Ryan shook his head. “What? Type? What does that even mean?” His eyes glanced outside and caught on a familiar form bolting down the sidewalk. Ryan’s eyes grew wide, and he missed the counter agent’s response. His legs were already propelling him through the glass-walled lobby toward the opposite door.
He spoke downward in English. “Vi, you trackin’ this…the princess…just outside?”
“If you are referring to the Princess Khattara, she is currently in her quarters on the academy campus.”
“Negative...eyes on, positive contact. She’s on the move just outside. I think somethin’s goin’ down here.”
Ryan pushed quickly through the far lobby door and emerged on the street a few dozen steps behind Khattara Eschala. He followed for three blocks and struggled to keep up with her quick steps. A sea of civilian faces marched and milled down the avenue. She was weaving between people and crossing through street traffic. Ryan glanced around, and there was no evidence of an additional military presence.
“Hey, are you trackin’?”
“I have isolated the individual you are following, and I am tracking it from orbit. However, I have not yet identified the target.”
“It’s her, Vi. She’s dressed in civies, and there’s something weird.”
“Please elaborate.”
“She’s not moving like she normally does.”
“I was not aware you had studied visual details and nuances around the mechanics of her movement.”
Ryan continued to weave through the hordes. “OK, when you put it that way, it sounds kinda creepy. I’m just sayin’ she always reads the room, and right now her head’s down. She’s nearly been hit twice crossing vehicle lanes, and it’s like she’s…well, rushing. Hey, you have eyes on any aerial patrols in the vicinity?”
“Negative on any changes in airborne traffic. I see no unusual repositioning of orbital stations or platforms.”
Ryan mumbled, “She’s alone.”
“Was that a question or a statement?”
“What the hell’s the princess doing down here alone?”
“Your target just made a hard left turn ahead toward an open green space. The park area is currently sparsely populated with additional biped lifeforms. Discounting the children, there are no patterns of individuals or comm chatter that would indicate a threat force. What are your intentions?”
“This is off for her. I’m gonna proceed and see if this is…something.”
“Take caution. If you are correct, this individual possesses a unique capacity in hand-to-hand combat that is greater than yours. If disturbed, she could harm or kill you.”
“She’s not gonna kill me, but before you say it, I’m gonna mask.”
Ryan glanced around, looking for any nearby witnesses as he passed a corner toward the central city park. In the transition around the corner, he was able to discretely mask outside of visible light and continue shadowing her.
With double vision from the tears in her eyes, Khattara Eschala moved quickly to a central area where she typically took her lunch. Just after landing on a familiar bench, her hands found her face, and she slumped over.
Gods, what have I done? Children should be protected from violence.
Khattara’s body tightened, and her butt rose slightly off the worn wooden seat.
Ryan approached with silent care and stood watching mere feet away. He could see her torso shaking with ragged breath. Ryan’s head rose tall and cocked as his ears registered intermittent sobs. He couldn’t fathom what he was witnessing; just in front of him sat the indomitable Princess Khattara Menduvalli…in distress. He listened to muffled sniffles in the gaps between rough breaths. Ryan’s lips parted, and his mind froze. This was wrong; this just couldn’t be. She was the foreboding force that yielded to no man or thing.
After a few seconds, he looked over his shoulder, and his eyes danced around the entire area for anyone coming to render support or aid. But in a city of millions, there was no one for her. He took a few small steps, coming closer, and as the gap narrowed, Ryan felt distressed as he listened between her breaths. His eyes widened at the sensation, but there was no time to process because she sat suffering right before him.
Ryan’s lips opened and closed as if he were going to say something. His unconscious, small steps continued until he’d advanced right next to the bench, and his hand connected with the raised striations in the worn woodgrain backing. He watched her and glanced around again. Surely, someone would come. His eyes continued to survey, and still there was no one.
A thought occurred to Ryan that caused him to stand taller, nodding. The universe momentarily shrank into a small bubble surrounding them, and he was compelled to reveal himself. Ryan swallowed hard as his form returned to visible light. With her head buried in her hands, Khattara felt someone sit down on the bench beside her. At the same moment, a startled Violet chattered a series of urgent questions into Ryan’s ear; he was deaf to them.
Khattara turned her head slightly as the form next to her whispered through a tightness in his throat, “I’m here.”
He sat quiet for a few seconds and held out a handkerchief. Khattara glanced to the side through her considerable locks and noticed the white cloth.
She sniffed and snatched it, mumbling, “Thank you.”
After wiping her nose and tears, she looked up, fully expecting to see an elder retiree. Her eyes shot wide at the sight of the Paavi, and she gasped.
Lurching away to the far edge of the bench, she brought her hand up. “Wha…no, no you can’t! Don’t…please don’t!”
Ryan held up both palms. “Whoa, easy…I mean no harm. You’re safe with me.”
Khattara sobbed. “No, no. They don’t know.” She shook her head quickly. “They can’t know. They saw it, but they still don’t really. I need to be here and be in this. I can’t lose what I do here and all of them. I can’t! You understand?”
Ryan listened and nodded slowly. “I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about, but I’m just gonna sit and be here if you need me. That’s all I’m gonna do.”
They sat silently looking out on a central fountain for a couple of minutes before Khattara glanced at the cloth he’d given her. There was language embroidered on the corner, and it looked like a few small Paavi characters. Her fingers traveled over the raised symbols.
“What’s this say?”
Ryan glanced at her and then to the cloth. “Those are letters in traditional Paavi; they’re initials of a name.” His gaze lowered, as did his voice. “It, uh, belonged to my mother. She used to carry one at all times; it was her way. Though I thought it strange at the time, I find myself doing it ever since.” Ryan looked out and nodded.
Khattara remembered their prior discourse regarding the loss of his mother and looked back at the heirloom. He had suffered the loss of a parent as a result of Daerk violence. Her eyes grew wide, dancing off distant targets. She wheezed and shook her head, contemplating the pain they had in common. The thought that someone else shared the same kind of loss fully eclipsed the glare of her present crazy life moment. She embraced a greater craziness and gazed at Ryan’s eyes as he stared out on the fountain.
As she looked on the Paavi, a thought resonated in her mind. There’s no one left for him.
She felt a strange comfort and connection with the Paavi. Without thinking of deeper implications, she slid a few inches toward him because she simply wanted to be closer. Her hearts beat a little faster as she reached out and put her hand on top of his. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of it, and Ryan glanced down as her hand momentarily squeezed his. In the foreground around his wrist, he noted that the shield band disguised as a Paavi copper bracelet had not reacted to her contact. For several moments they silently gazed off to a distant horizon. Khattara Eschala’s hand remained a presence, covering his.
Ryan broke the silence. “Can you tell me anything about what’s goin’ on? Can I help?”
The implications caused her hearts to accelerate. She turned and spoke with a measured tone. “Why?”
Ryan faced her, and a subtle smile formed as he cocked his head. “Because if you can help someone, you should.” He nodded and grinned wider. “And also because a mentor once told me that sometimes the most gifted, the ones most worthy of attention, are also the biggest pain in the ass.”
They stared into each other for a few moments before Khattara cracked a smile and they both burst into laughter.
She nodded. “Yeah, well, OK…maybe the latter part of that description fits me.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”
She laughed harder. “Hey, you don’t have to agree so readily!”
As their laughter subsided, Ryan thought for a moment and pursued her further. “Earlier, what did you mean about what you do here?”
She nodded for a long moment and took a deep breath. “OK…here goes: Twice a week I vanish. No one, not even my mother, knows where I go. I come down here in secret to volunteer. As I pass through the doors of a school a few blocks away, I become Miss Eschala…a kindergarten teacher.”
