"Did you beat it?"
He grins and shakes his head. "No. I went down it a good bit of the way on my butt, a little bit of the way on my face. But the failure is in not trying, right?"
"Shizumaat seems to think so," I answer.
He stands next to me and places a friendly hand on my shoulder. "Are you about ready to go?"
"Go?" I frown at the human. "Go where?"
"Amadeen," he answers as he points with his thumb toward the door. "We’re done here, and as Captain Moss pointed out, the war is thataway."
We walk together to the quarters. In my bed chamber, alone, I cry for yet another love lost. Davidge, I fear, cries for much more.
THIRTY
Amadeen.
Yazi Ro is going back to Amadeen.
There are a hundred good solid reasons and at least a thousand plausible excuses for not going back. Here I am, nonetheless, riding my rocket back to hell.
Two days were taken up by the Karnarak. There will be a trial and our depositions were needed. The Karnarak District Master says that he is convinced Falna will be found guilty of Ty’s murder, which draws the heaviest penalty: endless sleep. It is much like a permanent state of alert suspension with the trial charges, records, evidence, and testimony interspersed with Timan lectures on morality, responsibility, consequences, and remorse, all repeated again and again. I think about this as little as possible.
Another day was spent preparing and packing the ship. On the day we leave a call comes to me and I have a visitor. The call is from Estone Nev over the subspace link. Nev says that it is grateful I caught the child of its namechild before Falna killed anyone else. Nev also makes it clear that I am welcome at the estate at any time.
The visitor is Lahvay ni 'do Timan, Dakiz of the Ri Mou Tavii. He comes to my quarters in the Keu Vac Ount wearing an environmental suit, an unprecedented honor to me, as the Nisak representative Atruin 'do Timan is quick to point out. In the bubble top of the suit, Lahvay’s face appears distressed. When we are alone, I offer the Dakiz one of the comfortable chairs in my greeting room.
"My great thanks, Yazi Ro 'do Timan, but forgive me." His suited hands pat his rather wide girth. "In one of these suits I find it much less painful to stand. It has been years since I wore one. I had to borrow this ensemble from one of my students, whom from now on I will refer to as Slim."
I hold out my hands. "I would have been happy to meet you on the other side of the lock, Dakiz. In fact, if you prefer we can go there now."
"Again my great thanks, Ro, but what I have to say is brief. I am here to ask you a favor."
"I will grant it, if I can, Dakiz."
Lahvay ni 'do Timan raises a hand and holds up a cautionary finger. "Do not be in such haste. It is a considerable favor I would ask." He glances at the chair I offered him, decides against it, and aims his white-eyed gaze at me. "With Amadeen, as I understand it, you are going into a solution test without the benefit of a solution to test."
I feel my eyebrows climb as I nod. "You have put it quite well, Dakiz."
His suited hands flip up and down in a gesture of either helplessness or frustration. "Are you and your companions going to dance among the energy bursts and disrupter beams hoping that something will simply turn up?"
I think about the Dakiz’s question for a moment, then nod. "In essence," I answer. "Perhaps it might sound less insane if I say that we do not have all the information we need. The information is on Amadeen, and that is why we must go there."
"And then," says the Dakiz, "you hope something will turn up."
"We hope something will turn up."
The Dakiz snorts in disapproval, half sits on the chair, then changes his mind. Upright once again, he looks into my eyes and says, "I approach you in peace with no motive or weapon hidden."
"I meet you in the same manner, Dakiz."
"I have thought long and hard about the problem you brought before the nests, Yazi Ro 'do Timan. I do not have a solution, but I very much want to see such a solution. Our small corner of the universe is changing and it is time that the Ri Mou Tavii added ending armed conflicts to its discipline. I ask you to record your efforts upon Amadeen and the results. Whether you and your comrades are successful or not, please send the results to the Ri Mou Tavii so that we may begin building this new field of study. Should you survive this experiment on Amadeen, I and the Ri Mou Tavii would be honored if you would come to Timan and become a nest master at the school long enough to share your knowledge with us."
"The honor would be mine, Dakiz. If I survive and can get off Amadeen, I will come to the Ri Mou Tavii."
At that, Lahvay ni 'do Timan opens his hands, faces the palms toward me, and says, "I wish you and your comrades insight, wisdom, good luck, and a safe and profitable journey." He then bows and waddles from my greeting room.
THIRTY-ONE
In the Koda Ayvida of The Talman, it is written that the seeker Mistaan undertook a six-year meditation to join with that part of itself and the universe that had the answer it sought. The seeker’s problem was how to keep alive the words of its master Vehya through which the wisdom of its teacher Shizumaat had been carried. Mistaan found a place on a cliff high above the forest floor, stated its problem, then opened itself to the universe. Six years later the meditation ended and Mistan picked up a stick and a lump of flattened clay and invented writing. The first documents written were the Myth of Aakva, the Story of Uhe, and the Story of Shizumaat, the first three Kodas of The Talman. The voyage to Amadeen will take four months, which is all the meditation I am to be allowed. I join Captain Moss and Reaper Brandt in refusing suspension.
The captain does not undergo suspension because he trusts no one and no thing. Reaper says he enjoys the opportunity to study, reflect, and otherwise add to his knowledge. He also has a trust problem and a denial problem. In my case, I need the time to think. Between The Talman and the lessons of the Ri Mou Tavii, I have much to absorb about my place in the universe, my purpose, and my degree of commitment. There is also the problem of Amadeen.
With Davidge and Kita in suspension next to Yora Beneres and Ghazi Mrabet, I often go into the suspension bay, look at the four of them, and wonder where they have traveled to reach this place. Mrabet, for all his erudition and calm manner, is in a race with his own memories, losing himself by using sex as a drug, when he can get it, and music when he cannot. The songs and instrumentals he favors are the skull-shattering tempos of Vikaan. My font of information, the eternal seeker, Reaper Brandt, says that Mrabet was an engineer for the Nadok Rim Pirates before he teamed up with Moss. Reaper has not a clue as to the nature of Ghazi’s nightmare nor of its origins. He is a mechanical genius, a bloodthirsty and fearless fighter.
Yora Beneres, according to Reaper, is a hero waiting for a cause worthy of her ideals. After years of looking for some sort of meaning, she had given up her quest and was filling in the time left before death, until we came along seeking an end to war on Amadeen. She is a good pilot and an even better small arms expert. Reaper reports seeing her take out with three rapidly fired shots three guards who were surrounding her with weapons drawn. "Very frugal," Reaper added. "She hates to waste ammunition." Before joining the USEF to fight in the Buldahk Insurrection, she was a video actress with a fairly impressive list of credits. It was not enough.