The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga (7 page)

“Good afternoon, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said politely.  “I appreciate your cooperation
this day.  Our colleague, Dr. Michael Davis, would like to speak with you about your
encounters with the Xanti.”

“Of course, Consul Vikter,” Sergio replied.  His voice was subdued, as it had been
since he’d learned of his mother’s death at the hands of the Xanti.  It had been many
years since the Vulpirans had lost their own mother, yet they still missed her.  They
understood the loss of a parent.

“I’m happy to assist in any way that I can,” Sergio added.

Vikter moved toward one end of the table, gesturing to Michael to take a seat at the
other end.  Lance and Hunt took seats opposite Sergio, leaving him alone on his side
of the long meeting table. 

“Mr. Farnswaite,” Michael said once everyone was seated,  “I’m a xeno-psychiatrist,
a scientist who specializes in the psychology of alien races.  I’m interested in anything
you can tell me about the Xanti, and your interactions with them.  What they said,
how they behaved, any emotional responses you may have seen and what provoked them. 
As you are the only person known to have been held on a Xanti ship, anything you can
tell me about that will be helpful as well.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about the Xanti ship,” Sergio said.  “I was kept
in a tiny, bare room with only a mattress on the floor for a bed, the entire time
I was there.  My cell had no windows and no doors, most of the time.  Occasionally
a door would appear and food would be pushed into the room.  At other times a door
would appear in a different place and I would have a chance to visit with Mother. 
Sometimes a Xanti named Xi-Kung would come in and talk to me, but I never saw another
Xanti, or anyone else during the time I was there.”

While Sergio spoke, Michael pulled a hand terminal from his pocket and began taking
notes.  Vikter had told him that the entire interview would be recorded, but taking
notes was habit for him, and helped him to remember some facts more clearly later.

“Mr. Farnswaite, what you’ve just told me is far more informative than you realize,”
he said.  “For example, we’ve known for a very long time that the Xanti are highly
secretive and security conscious.  Only now are we beginning to realize that they
are not only secretive, but paranoid.  What you’ve just told me supports that theory,
and you’ve barely begun.”

Sergio nodded thoughtfully, starting to understand what it was this man was really
after.  He realized that this was his one and, probably only, opportunity to get back
at the Xanti for murdering his mother.  He closed his eyes, focusing carefully, determined
to relate every single detail of his dealings with the Xanti as precisely as possible. 

After a few moments Sergio opened his eyes and began to speak, his voice low and determined
as he painstakingly related every detail he could remember of the Xanti.  What was
said, when and by whom, the actions and reactions of himself and the Xanti.  He did
not embellish or improvise, nor did he exaggerate.  He was clear as to what things
he remembered absolutely, and what was impression, guess, or vaguely remembered. 
By the time he was finished his voice was slightly hoarse, but he was satisfied that
he’d given as thorough an accounting of himself and the Xanti as it was possible for
him to give.

“You have done very well, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said.  “We sincerely thank you for
your help.”

“There is no need to thank me, Consul Vikter,” Sergio said.  “I’m glad that my ill
considered choices and unconscionable behavior have provided at least something for
the good.  It can never absolve me of my actions, nor excuse my part in my mother’s
death.  But if it is of some use against the Xanti, then I am satisfied.”

“I assure you, Mr. Farnswaite, what you have done here today will be of great use,”
Michael said.  “I’m certain it will help me a great deal when I face the Xanti.”

“Face the Xanti?” Sergio asked in surprise.  “You don’t mean that you intend to meet
personally with the Xanti that the Falcorans captured, do you?”

“Yes, that is precisely what I intend to do,” Michael replied.

“Are you certain that’s wise?” Sergio asked  “I promise you, they can not be trusted.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Farnswaite,” Michael said.  “But I have no intention
of trusting any Xanti.”

“Just be careful,” Sergio said.  He pushed his chair back and stood up.  “If you gentlemen
no longer need me, I’ll leave now.”

“Of course, Mr. Farnswaite,” Vikter said.  “Thank you again for your efforts.”

Sergio smiled, but it was a sad expression.  “If you need me again, you know where
I’ll be.”

“Shall we go review the test data now?” Michael asked, starting to get up.  Lance
waved him back into his seat. 

“Before we go any further, I think it’s important that we warn you of the danger you
are getting into,” he said to Michael.  “If word gets out that you are working directly
with us against the Xanti, I assure you that the Xanti will seek to either destroy
you, or capture you.  Our security measures are as strong as we can make them, but
there are no guarantees.  You may wish to consider that before you go any further.”

“There is nothing to consider,” Michael said.  “I am a citizen of the Thousand Worlds,
as are you.  As such, I must do all that I can against the Xanti, regardless of the
risk.”

The Vulpirans exchanged a look that Michael could not interpret.  “You are a good
man, Michael,” Vikter said.  “And a brave one.”

“I’m not so sure about brave,” Michael said.  “I’m not a warrior or a soldier.  I
just know what I believe to be right, and I will stand by that.” 

***

Honey entered Arima House with Nica at her side, feeling more than a little bit nervous. 
She knew that Aunt Berta was hoping she would identify the psychic talent of one of
the
berezi
who was unaware she had any.  She didn’t mind helping if she could.  The problem
was that, in her experience, people who didn’t realize they had such abilities were
often not at all pleased to be told otherwise.  Especially Teriens.  It was generally
best to keep her knowledge to herself, a practice her mother had drummed into her
at an early age when they’d first gone to live on Terien.  It wasn’t going to be easy
to change a life long habit.

“Honey, Nica,” Berta greeted them, giving each of them a hug.  “I’m so happy you came. 
Did you sleep well?  How’s your guest house?  Is there anything you need?”

“The guesthouse is beautiful, Aunt Berta,” Honey replied.  “We slept well, thank you,
and I can’t think of a single thing we need.  If I do, I’ll let you know.”

“I know, I sound like an old woman,” Berta said with a smile.  “But then, in many
ways I still am an old woman.”

“Auntie Berta, you’re not old,” Nica piped up.  “You’re pretty.  Not like Genny Davis
at all.”

“Genny Davis?” Berta asked, hearing the tone of dislike in the child’s voice when
she said the name.

“She means Michael’s mother,” Honey said.  “She’s Terien.”

Berta tilted her head, hearing more in that brief explanation than had been said. 
Unfortunately, she didn’t know anything about Teriens, so she didn’t understand the
meaning.  She made a mental note to do some research.

“Come, let me introduce you to the women,” Berta said.  “I’ve told them a little about
you, and they’re excited to meet you.”

Honey’s smile became strained, but she nodded and followed Berta across the sitting
room and into a large dining room filled with sunlight and chattering women.  The
overall atmosphere was bright, happy and relaxed, which eased Honey’s nerves.

“Everyone, this is my niece, Honey, and her daughter, Nica,” Berta said.  “Honey,
this is everyone,” she said with a wink.  “I’ll just let the ladies introduce themselves
as you speak with them.  I know that if I rattle off all their names it won’t matter
much anyway.”

“You’re right, Aunt Berta,” Honey said.  “I’m terrible with names, sorry to say.”

“So am I, dear,” Berta said.  “Now, you two go on over to the sideboard there and
fill yourself a couple of plates, then come sit.  I’ve saved two seats near me, just
over there.”

Honey nodded, then led Nica to the sideboard.  A few minutes later they took their
seats at the table and began to eat.

“Honey, my name is Shellie,” said a young woman across the table from her with short,
curly blonde hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

“I’m glad to meet you, Shellie,” Honey said.

“Berta told us that you can sense psychic talents in other people, is that right?”

Honey looked up, startled to hear her ability spoken of so openly.  She glanced around
quickly, sure to see frowns on at least some of the women, but they all looked openly
curious.  “Yes, that’s right,” she replied after a moment.

“I’m really hoping you can help me,” Shellie said.  “According to my genetic tests,
I’m a
berezi
.  Only I’ve never had any psychic talent.  I kind of thought it would show up later,
after I found my Rami, but I’ve been here over a month now and no one has reacted
to my pheromones.  I’m getting worried.  Maybe I’m not a
berezi
after all.”

That this woman, and the others, not only accepted the idea of psychic talents, but
wanted them, was a shock to Honey.  Berta had implied as much, but it had been difficult
for her to accept.  She was beginning to see how different things really were here,
on Jasan, from Terien.

She set her fork down and reached out with one hand across the table toward Shellie. 
Shellie smiled and, without hesitation, placed her hand in Honey’s.  The table grew
quiet as everyone watched, but Honey barely noticed as she focused all of her senses
on the woman whose hand she held.  After several moments, Honey smiled, gave Shellie’s
hand a light squeeze, and withdrew her hand.

“You have...or rather, you will have, a very strong talent for sensing danger,” Honey
said. 

“Do you mean I’ll know if I’m going to cut myself or fall down the stairs?  Something
like that?” Shellie asked.

“No,” Honey replied, frowning slightly as she struggled to find a way to explain what
she’d felt.  “May I ask you a question, Shellie?”

“Of course,” Shellie replied.  “Ask anything you like.”

“Do you have any family?”

The bright, open expression on Shellie’s face darkened slightly as she shook her head. 
“No, I don’t,” she replied.  “My parents died when I was very young.  I grew up in
an orphanage.”

“Would it be accurate to say that you’ve never really felt as though you belonged?”
Honey asked, hoping Shellie wasn’t offended by the question.  But Shellie only smiled.

“No, I’ve never belonged anywhere,” she admitted.  “That’s one reason I want so much
to be an Arima.  If it turns out that I’m not one, I’ll get on the waiting list for
Bride House instead.”

“Well, I can’t tell you if you are, or are not, an Arima,” Honey said.  “What I can
tell you is that your talent is for sensing danger to your people as a whole.  If
you’ve never felt as though you belonged, that would explain why the talent has never
manifested.  Once you belong, your talent will come to the fore.”

“Oh, I like that,” Shellie said, smiling brightly once more.  “Thank you so much,
Honey.”

Honey smiled and started to say something, but a light pat on her arm from Nica drew
her attention.  “What is it, Nica?” she asked.

Nica crooked her finger and Honey bent down so that Nica could speak into her ear. 
She half expected that Nica needed to go to the bathroom, so when she heard what Nica
had to say, she froze for a long moment in shock. 

“Is something wrong, Honey?” Berta asked, noting the stiff expression on her niece’s
face.

Honey straightened up and looked at Berta, then glanced down at Nica before looking
at the faces around the table.  She didn’t know what to do and for some reason her
brain wasn’t working quickly enough for her to decide on the spur of the moment.

“It’s okay,
Mana
,” Nica said as she reached for the glass of juice in front of her plate. 

Honey smiled at Nica.  Sometimes the child acted far beyond her years.  She’d often
thought Nica had an
old soul
, an expression she didn’t fully understand, but still felt was right for Nica.  She
bit her lip as she tried to make up her mind.

“Honey?” Berta asked.

“I’m not ready to explain this completely,” Honey said, deciding on a compromise. 
“What I will tell you is that Nica has a gift of her own.  Through it, she has learned
that you, Shellie, do have a male-set.  They are simply not on Jasan at the moment,
nor will they be for another couple of months.”

Shellie smiled at Nica.  “Thank you, Nica,” she said.  “I think I would have given
up hope soon without what the two of you have told me this morning.  You’ve made me
very happy.”

“Yes, Nica, thank you very much,” Berta added.  She frowned in thought.  “Shellie,
I think that since your male-set will not be here for a while, we should let another
berezi
take your place, for the time being.  Obviously you cannot leave the safety of the
ranch, though.  I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to what to do.”