the better.”
Huh? I chance a glance in his eyes. They’re wide open, and unreadable. The Commandant nods at me this time, without leering.
I jump in my seat as King slams his hands on the table and pushes back in his chair. But he doesn’t stand up.
Maybe I can do this. Every fiber of my being is screaming ‘It’s not too late, back out!’ , but I’m not sure I can. I wouldn’t know how. Everyone seems to be . . . counting on me.
“What’s this weapon?” I blurt out.
The Commanders look to Professor Xeno, who has not turned his chair away from me the whole time.
He begins to speak. “Even I know little of the asset’s species or the weapon he claimed to have.” Anormata’s physiology creates a very delicate echo after each word; his language is so unusual he could not translate his real name, which is why he chose Xeno.
“However, he claimed to have a weapon called a ‘sift.’” Professor Xeno pauses, as he often does in class, to let everyone absorb an important piece of information. “This asset would not reveal much detail about this sift until we purchased it, except to say that it enabled the user to control the universe. Not only that, but he said it holds the key to what the universe is, and why we are here.”
“And we believe him?” I ask incredulously. I mean, come on . Control the universe? Prof. Xeno’s mouth shapes into sharp thin-lined ‘U’. He’s smiling! A first, for me.
“In my many years, I have encountered this ‘sift’ or something like it in the ancient texts of a few very old species. This is enough evidence, in my mind, to pursue these leads. Of course, there’s a chance that what we’re setting out on is a ‘wild goose pursuit.’”
“Wild goose-chase,” I add, smiling. Human’s use of idioms is intriguing to Professor Xeno and he often tries to use them in conversation.
“If, according to other civilizations, it does exist, we must obtain it before the Thell’eon, before any one, does,” he adds.
This is a sobering deduction. I believe Professor Xeno without question. He holds the human species in high regard, among all of the species; the reason he’s contributing to ESE, plus, we had a planet, with a sun, and we welcomed him.
The Commandant stands up abruptly. “Winters, you will be briefed and receive as much instruction possible in the time we have. Adm. O’Reilly is in charge of this mission. Prof. Xeno and Lt. Lazarus, who is on his way, will prepare you as best as possible before you depart with the ‘team’ in a charger tomorrow at zero nine hundred hours.”
I gasp. Less than 14 hours.
“You’re in good hands. The best hands,” he says, his eyes sweeping the officers at the table. “I know you won’t let us down. Good luck, cadet,” he adds. And with that, he walks past me. The other two officers, who are not on the prep team, file in behind him.
But there’s something I need to know before I go through with this. He needs me now. Surely, I can make a demand.
“Commandant!” I practically shout. Without turning to face him, I ask, “Is the ‘misplaced’ operative my brother?” I stare straight into Adm. O’Reilly’s eyes when I ask this and he seems, oddly, to be expecting it.
“Yes,” says Commandant Abernathy finally.
I experience a lightness of being I haven’t felt, well, since before I joined the Academy.
It doesn’t occur to me until days later, which will feel like an entire lifetime, that I didn’t fail the first-year combat test. I’d been set up from the start. Being ignorant of that fact at the time didn’t much matter, though, because the truth is, they could have used Daz to get me to do almost anything.
Chapter 6
After several hours of a very disorganized intel briefing, there are three conclusions I’ve drawn about the Thell’eons—with the help of Professor Xeno, who keeps interrupting the two tireless officers to explain the connection between Thell’eon behavior and societal drivers.
Huh? I chance a glance in his eyes. They’re wide open, and unreadable. The Commandant nods at me this time, without leering.
I jump in my seat as King slams his hands on the table and pushes back in his chair. But he doesn’t stand up.
Maybe I can do this. Every fiber of my being is screaming ‘It’s not too late, back out!’ , but I’m not sure I can. I wouldn’t know how. Everyone seems to be . . . counting on me.
“What’s this weapon?” I blurt out.
The Commanders look to Professor Xeno, who has not turned his chair away from me the whole time.
He begins to speak. “Even I know little of the asset’s species or the weapon he claimed to have.” Anormata’s physiology creates a very delicate echo after each word; his language is so unusual he could not translate his real name, which is why he chose Xeno.
“However, he claimed to have a weapon called a ‘sift.’” Professor Xeno pauses, as he often does in class, to let everyone absorb an important piece of information. “This asset would not reveal much detail about this sift until we purchased it, except to say that it enabled the user to control the universe. Not only that, but he said it holds the key to what the universe is, and why we are here.”
“And we believe him?” I ask incredulously. I mean, come on . Control the universe? Prof. Xeno’s mouth shapes into sharp thin-lined ‘U’. He’s smiling! A first, for me.
“In my many years, I have encountered this ‘sift’ or something like it in the ancient texts of a few very old species. This is enough evidence, in my mind, to pursue these leads. Of course, there’s a chance that what we’re setting out on is a ‘wild goose pursuit.’”
“Wild goose-chase,” I add, smiling. Human’s use of idioms is intriguing to Professor Xeno and he often tries to use them in conversation.
“If, according to other civilizations, it does exist, we must obtain it before the Thell’eon, before any one, does,” he adds.
This is a sobering deduction. I believe Professor Xeno without question. He holds the human species in high regard, among all of the species; the reason he’s contributing to ESE, plus, we had a planet, with a sun, and we welcomed him.
The Commandant stands up abruptly. “Winters, you will be briefed and receive as much instruction possible in the time we have. Adm. O’Reilly is in charge of this mission. Prof. Xeno and Lt. Lazarus, who is on his way, will prepare you as best as possible before you depart with the ‘team’ in a charger tomorrow at zero nine hundred hours.”
I gasp. Less than 14 hours.
“You’re in good hands. The best hands,” he says, his eyes sweeping the officers at the table. “I know you won’t let us down. Good luck, cadet,” he adds. And with that, he walks past me. The other two officers, who are not on the prep team, file in behind him.
But there’s something I need to know before I go through with this. He needs me now. Surely, I can make a demand.
“Commandant!” I practically shout. Without turning to face him, I ask, “Is the ‘misplaced’ operative my brother?” I stare straight into Adm. O’Reilly’s eyes when I ask this and he seems, oddly, to be expecting it.
“Yes,” says Commandant Abernathy finally.
I experience a lightness of being I haven’t felt, well, since before I joined the Academy.
It doesn’t occur to me until days later, which will feel like an entire lifetime, that I didn’t fail the first-year combat test. I’d been set up from the start. Being ignorant of that fact at the time didn’t much matter, though, because the truth is, they could have used Daz to get me to do almost anything.
Chapter 6
After several hours of a very disorganized intel briefing, there are three conclusions I’ve drawn about the Thell’eons—with the help of Professor Xeno, who keeps interrupting the two tireless officers to explain the connection between Thell’eon behavior and societal drivers.
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