to know. Tell me, do you know of the Aralapanni? Or the Serennian?” The names she uttered were nothing he recognized, and even in a dream in which he shared a language with her, the syllables carried no meaning. Bithia watched him closely with those great, shadowed eyes and nodded. “You don’t know these great peoples, do you? Not even legends to you? Then truly we must have passed from the galaxy, and all our knowledge with us. And this tale of Ancient Observers I pluck from your mind means nothing to me. Certainly not my people, nor any of the races I know.”
Nate was frustrated by their lack of any common reference, aside from the planet upon which he now stood, equally alien and hostile to both of them. Start there . The current situation ought to provide enough of a foundation for them to relate to each other.
“I don’t know how you got here, but our ship crashed,” he said, leaning against the barrier and crossing his arms over his chest, settling in for a chat. “We were being chased by a Mawreg client race—enemies of our entire species. To escape we had to go into hyperdrive too close to a blue giant star, ended up out of control in this system and crashed.” He touched his forehead where the last remnants of the bruise remained. “I was knocked out in the crash, and these thugs grabbed my men when they were crawling from the wreckage and dragging me to safety.”
“Where did you crash? And who are these Mawreg?” Despite her prior claims to want nothing but untroubled sleep and oblivion, Bithia seized on new information with the hunger of a highly intelligent creature denied fresh mental stimulus for a long time. “Can you visualize one for me?”
He did, in automatic response to her question. The memory made him nauseated. How the Mawreg looked was wrong in all respects.
Bithia didn’t react with instinctive repugnance to the Mawreg, at least as glimpsed in his hastily shut-off memory. “Hideous, yes, but unknown to me.”
Nate had seen them up close, which few people ever survived, much less retained a hold on sanity, but that was in another life.
“Another life?” She plucked the phrase from his mind. “You believe in the recycling of the spirit through time?”
“No, you misunderstand me.” He chuckled. Have to get used to her ability to instantaneously read my private musings. Or develop a mental block to keep her out. The second strategy didn’t hold much appeal. He liked hearing her musical voice in his head. “I’m an officer in the Sectors Special Forces, usually working behind enemy lines to carry out assassinations, sabotage installations, accomplish military objectives. Another life than the one I’m leading here on this cursed planet. Here, I’m in training for the sapiche playoffs.”
“I don’t know this Mawreg. Fortunately for me, judging from what you say and remember of them.” Bithia frowned. In the resulting “silence,” Nate’s irritation grew. She could pick any thought of his at will, but he could only “hear” what she chose to “say” to him. After a contemplative moment, she sighed. “I came to Talonque, this world, of my own choice with my father’s expedition. He was an explorer of great renown among our people. He also wanted to help the people here learn and grow more civilized.”
“We leave indigenous planetary populations alone, unless they’ve already reached a specific level of civilization,” Nate said. “We learned the hard way a few too many times that it’s no good to go in with what the Sectors can offer if you’re dealing with people who haven’t yet evolved technical sophistication. The population gets the wrong idea—”
“Think of you as gods?” Bithia asked wryly. “I believe we were learning the lesson. I can certainly testify to it now. A growing number of my people liked the idea.”
“But not you?”
“No. Even before I was forced into this career as the all-knowing goddess T’naritza. Nor did my
Nate was frustrated by their lack of any common reference, aside from the planet upon which he now stood, equally alien and hostile to both of them. Start there . The current situation ought to provide enough of a foundation for them to relate to each other.
“I don’t know how you got here, but our ship crashed,” he said, leaning against the barrier and crossing his arms over his chest, settling in for a chat. “We were being chased by a Mawreg client race—enemies of our entire species. To escape we had to go into hyperdrive too close to a blue giant star, ended up out of control in this system and crashed.” He touched his forehead where the last remnants of the bruise remained. “I was knocked out in the crash, and these thugs grabbed my men when they were crawling from the wreckage and dragging me to safety.”
“Where did you crash? And who are these Mawreg?” Despite her prior claims to want nothing but untroubled sleep and oblivion, Bithia seized on new information with the hunger of a highly intelligent creature denied fresh mental stimulus for a long time. “Can you visualize one for me?”
He did, in automatic response to her question. The memory made him nauseated. How the Mawreg looked was wrong in all respects.
Bithia didn’t react with instinctive repugnance to the Mawreg, at least as glimpsed in his hastily shut-off memory. “Hideous, yes, but unknown to me.”
Nate had seen them up close, which few people ever survived, much less retained a hold on sanity, but that was in another life.
“Another life?” She plucked the phrase from his mind. “You believe in the recycling of the spirit through time?”
“No, you misunderstand me.” He chuckled. Have to get used to her ability to instantaneously read my private musings. Or develop a mental block to keep her out. The second strategy didn’t hold much appeal. He liked hearing her musical voice in his head. “I’m an officer in the Sectors Special Forces, usually working behind enemy lines to carry out assassinations, sabotage installations, accomplish military objectives. Another life than the one I’m leading here on this cursed planet. Here, I’m in training for the sapiche playoffs.”
“I don’t know this Mawreg. Fortunately for me, judging from what you say and remember of them.” Bithia frowned. In the resulting “silence,” Nate’s irritation grew. She could pick any thought of his at will, but he could only “hear” what she chose to “say” to him. After a contemplative moment, she sighed. “I came to Talonque, this world, of my own choice with my father’s expedition. He was an explorer of great renown among our people. He also wanted to help the people here learn and grow more civilized.”
“We leave indigenous planetary populations alone, unless they’ve already reached a specific level of civilization,” Nate said. “We learned the hard way a few too many times that it’s no good to go in with what the Sectors can offer if you’re dealing with people who haven’t yet evolved technical sophistication. The population gets the wrong idea—”
“Think of you as gods?” Bithia asked wryly. “I believe we were learning the lesson. I can certainly testify to it now. A growing number of my people liked the idea.”
“But not you?”
“No. Even before I was forced into this career as the all-knowing goddess T’naritza. Nor did my
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