Chapter Nine
Date unknown
Time unknown
Kalarian Orbit
THERE WAS A satisfaction that came with waking up rested. As Svetlana’s eyes cracked open beneath the dimmed lights of the Kalarael observation room, the first thought that came to her was, That was the best sleep I’ve had in years. After arching her neck and subsequently her back, she depressed her hands into the floating cot and pushed up to a seated position.
The lights in the room brightened—a clear sign that her alien observers were still watching her. How long had she slept? Four hours? Eight? There were no clocks on the walls, no sunlight to judge by. It certainly felt like she’d slept for some time.
You were asleep for sixteen Earth hours.
When the voice emerged in her head, Svetlana nearly jumped out of her skin—and she did jump off the cot, backing up against the near wall as she stared wide-eyed at the cell. Standing on the opposite side of the room, and wearing the same translucent gown that Svetlana was wearing, was Ei`dorinthal. Gasping, she said, “Ed!”
The Ithini, wide-eyed and placid, angled his head at her. Already engaged in a connection that Svetlana hadn’t felt him establish, he relayed to her, It is good to see you again, master. You are looking considerably better.
She’d been a bloody, muck-covered mess in the Zone Runner. It didn’t take much to look better. But how she looked was the last thing on her mind. “How did you get in here?”
I have spent many hours with the Kalarael in the time that you slept, honing my ability to connect with them. This was done at the request of Yigôzien, who vouched for my trustworthiness.
“What about everyone else? Are they safe?”
Even before the Ithini answered, a sensation of affirmation emanated from him. All are in chambers such as this one.
“And Mishka?”
Tauthinilaas assisted in calming the animal.
Spider-eyed war beast or not, the moment Svetlana heard that, her heart rejoiced. Mishka had become just as important to her as Flopper.
Ed continued. All crew members from the Zone Runner have been tested for contaminants. All are clear. Very soon, it will no longer be necessary to keep everyone restrained to these chambers.
Eyes narrowing with intrigue, she said to him, “You are communicating differently.” He sounded more thorough and less choppy. Talking to him almost felt like talking to a human.
The Kalarael are unrestrained in the way they communicate. I am learning a great deal about expression, and as a consequence, my self-expression has evolved.
“It is a good change.”
Thank you, master.
Turning her head to the wall, she saw that it was white. None of her observers could be seen. “You said we passed our biological tests. How do they know this so quickly?”
Though far less advanced than species such as the Khuladi, they are still vastly superior in technology to you Earthae. They were already familiar with the Bakma, so they knew that Tauthinilaas, Wuteel, and Kraash-nagun would not pose a biological threat. For the first time as Ed talked, Svetlana noticed that his eyes weren’t pulsing with focus, as they so often did when in a connection. He almost looked relaxed. You, Mishka, and myself, however, are new species to them, which is why they took various samples from all of our bodies. Those samples have been examined, and we have been deemed non-threats. There was also the precedent of Yigôzien and her counterpart, neither of whom showed any ill effects from alien exposure.
Svetlana’s thoughts on the matter were interrupted by the growling of her stomach.
I sense hunger, relayed Ed. You will be brought food and water shortly. The Kalarael were waiting for you to wake up.
Looking at her stomach, she frowned when she saw just how much weight she’d lost. She didn’t exactly look like a starving child in an underdeveloped country, but she most certainly didn’t look healthy. “What do they plan to feed us?”
I do not know.
She laughed sardonically. “That must be some good technology, to come to such conclusions about our biology and what we can consume in such a short period of time.”
Tauthinilaas, Wuteel, and Kraash-nagun were given what remained of the calunod in the Zone Runner. Mishka, you, and myself have not eaten since our arrival in Kalarael space. Like you, I look forward to receiving sustenance.
So far as Mishka went, he was probably one tummy rumble away from turning apex predator. Whatever culinary tricks the Kalarael had up their sleeves, Svetlana hoped they’d get to them quickly—for everyone’s sakes.
Someone approaches. Ed faced the tunnel entrance along the side wall, where the Kalarael doctor had visited Svetlana earlier. It is Yigôzien.
Ahead of them, the wall opened in the same circular manner that it had before. Standing in the center of the hallway was the familiar black-feathered, teal-streaked invoker that Svetlana had come to know. It was impossible for Svetlana to contain the smile that broke out—a true one, the first she’d cracked since arriving at the space station. Yigôzien couldn’t hide her happiness, either. Her eyes lit up with the brightest blue that Svetlana had seen from the pulchritudinous species. “Yigôzien,” said Svetlana as she drew near. She wanted to open her arms widely for a hug, but she held back the urge. “It is so good to see you again.”
“I am happy to see you, too, Setana,” Yigôzien said.
Svetlana blinked at the clarity of which she heard the alien’s words through Ed’s connection. Her mind interpreted it as the most eloquently spoken Russian. “Is that really you speaking to me?”
Dipping her head, Yigôzien answered, “I have worked extensively with Ei`dorinthal while you slept. You will find our ability to communicate vastly improved.”
To say the least.
Before Svetlana could remark any more, Yigôzien lowered her body forward in a sort of half-bow, dipping her head with closed eyes. She stretched her hands out to her sides and dipped into the same curtsy-like motion that she had with the darishu.
“There is much for my people to express to you. Though you are alien to us, you are already held in the highest esteem.”
“Are your people afraid of me?”
The blue in Yigôzien’s eyes darkened. “Yes. Though seen as a creature of beauty, you are still an unknown.”
“A creature of beauty?” At that, she scoffed.
The blue in her eyes brightening, Yigôzien said, “I have been assigned as your saikuran.” When the word didn’t translate through the connection, Svetlana angled her head curiously. “I have been charged with ensuring that your stay on this space station is comfortable. I understand that you are having difficulty breathing in our atmosphere.”
That, she was. “There is more oxygen on our homeworld of Earth. Breathing here is somewhat of a challenge, though I am afraid my injury has played a role in that, too.”
“We are aware of your wound. We will do our best to ensure that it is not suffering from the infection you fear.”
“How?” Svetlana meant the question with all due respect. She was a totally different species than the Kalarael. For all she knew, their ointments and antibiotics might cause a reaction that would kill her.
Yigôzien’s face remained expressionless, though her voice—at least, in the connection—remained pleasant. “Our tshmanim—” The word faltered in the connection. “—have examined the biological samples that you provided. They understand your biology enough to assist you.”
That was…utterly fascinating.
“Ei`dorinthal has explained to us that your nose was removed by your captors.” As Yigôzien said the words, the blue in her eyes faded, replaced by a flash of red. Even her delicate tongue seemed to grow harsher as she spoke the words. The red passed quickly, replaced by a blue that was not quite so bright as it’d been before. “An apparatus is in development that we believe will assist you. Please allow us a small amount of time to ensure it will serve its function.”
“An apparatus?”
“It should assist in directing oxygen through your nasal cavity, as your nose did prior to your injury.”
“Thank you, Yigôzien. It means a lot that you would do such a thing.”
The look Yigôzien offered Svetlana was almost one of confusion. “It is we who owe you abundant thanks. What you did aboard the Zone Runner…” The word was somewhat stretched out, indicative that Ed was interpreting some of the Kalarael’s words on the fly, and possibly struggling with it. “It was a feat of great courage and strength. If you are indicative of your species, yours must be one of fierce warriors.”
It was the first time in Svetlana’s life that fierce had ever been used to describe her.
“Your ability to breathe properly in our atmosphere is of great importance to us. The creation of this apparatus is a priority for my people.”
“How many of them know of my arrival here?” She had been under the assumption that her arrival in Kalarael space was being kept under wraps. Prior to the Bakma arriving in Hong Kong, any and all suggestions of human contact with extraterrestrials had been discussed under a veil of secrecy. It had been speculated for as long as Svetlana had been alive that aliens from outer space had contacted humanity. Conspiracy theories, cover-ups, secret government agencies. They’d been discussed so much they were practically pop culture. But Hong Kong? Hong Kong was as clear a signal as could have been sent from the stars. It was hard to cover up a city in ruin and alien spaceships strafing the ground with weapons fire.
Once more, a look of confusion crossed Yigôzien’s face—at least, if Svetlana was picking up on Kalarael emotions correctly. “Your arrival is known to all of our people.”
To all of her people? Svetlana scrunched her eyebrows together. “You mean on this space station?”
The invoker’s lingering expression remained. “On Kalar.”
There had to be a misunderstanding here. “You are not trying to tell me that everyone on your home planet knows that I am here?”
Before Yigôzien could answer, Ed’s voice cut through to Svetlana. Because of their unique ocular physiology, it is impossible for Kalarael to disguise intent or emotion. There are no secrets among Kalarael society, as they have few means by which to keep them.
Yigôzien’s words backed up the claim. “This is far too significant an event to not be disclosed to the Kalarael people. An announcement of your arrival was among the first steps taken.”
It was the opposite of how humanity operated. The more significant the event on Earth, the less likely the government was to disclose it. All truth, all the time? She could scarcely wrap her head around that.
Once more, the Ithini’s voice came to her. The Kalarael cannot comprehend deception the way other species can. This is not a cultural trait—it is biological. They are unable to biologically hide emotion, which is indicative in their society of truthfulness. I believe the expression that you use is, “they wear their hearts on their sleeves.”
But all the time? Svetlana asked.
They know nothing else.
Honesty was such an esteemed trait among humanity. And now, she was faced with a society—a species—that lived and breathed it. She should have been thrilled at such a discovery. As it was, though, the small knot in her stomach spoke otherwise. Sometimes, truths were better left unsaid.
You may notice that the Kalarael maintain eye contact at all times. This is not cultural. They are studying subtle shifts in eye color, the extents of which we cannot perceive. This is not done because of inherent distrust, rather it is expected as to achieve full understanding from one being to another.
Svetlana had indeed noticed that. It hadn’t struck her as unsettling, though. Just focused.
You have heard Yigôzien refer to you as a creature of beauty. This is because your eyes are a particular shade of blue. Among the Kalarael, blue eyes are indicative of tranquility. One exhibits blue eyes when they are fully at peace. The depth of your eye color is one not often achieved here. It symbolizes total serenity. They are captivated by it.
Captivated?
A sense of affirmation appeared. The color of your eyes is far more significant to them than the wound on your face.
Focusing on Yigôzien again, Svetlana asked her, “Do your people know about my Bakma companions?”
And just like that, the blue in the Kalarael’s eyes faded. “All among the Zone Runner have been made known, though we were already familiar with the Bakma.” The red tint returned as Yigôzien seemed on the verge of baring teeth. “Upon encountering the Bakma the first time, we were met with hostility. It is only at your request that the ones who arrived with you are being treated with kindness.”
There was no disguising the zealous tone in Yigôzien’s voice. She could feel the loathing emanating from her.
All of our comrades are indeed being cared for, Ed relayed. Despite the Kalaraels’ disdain for them, they are being treated well because of you.
“When can I see them?”
Yigôzien’s fox ears twitched. Whether it was due to a feeling or just involuntary, Svetlana didn’t know. “You may see them very soon,” she answered. When Svetlana looked at her strangely, she said, “I am not here solely to greet you. My purpose is also to release you from quarantine. We have already determined from your samples that you are of no danger to us.”
It was just as Ed had told her.
“If it pleases you,” Yigôzien said with a dip of her head, “I will escort you to your room, where food and new clothes await.”
That would please her very much. “Absolutely.” As nice as this translucent hospital gown was, she wanted to wear something with a little bit of weight. The food was needed, too.
“If you would follow me, please.” Turning away, Yigôzien made her way toward the hole that’d opened up in the wall.
As Svetlana and Ed followed behind her, the blonde leaned in toward her telepathic friend. This is a strange way to greet a new alien species, is it not? The decon procedure, sure, she understood that—but in what scenario would humans allow a pre-war alien visitor to roam the halls? More likely than not, after an intense interrogation, they’d be led right to the dissection table.
Humanity is a naturally distrustful species, Ed answered. The Kalarael are the opposite. Until you give them reason to believe otherwise, as the Bakma have done, you will be treated with a level of dignity you are likely unaccustomed to.
She had to stop herself from snorting. That would not take very much.
The room Svetlana was led into was spacious and filled with console stations. But what caught her eyes was not the stations or the number of Kalarael present, for there were many, but the mesmerizing, eye-catching splashes of color and decoration in every which way she looked. There were brightly colored wall murals that seemed to shimmer and flow in place, as if the paint itself was alive and moving on its own atop the metal. Shafts of dazzling light as natural as sunlight shone into the room from holes in the ceiling. Each console was either painted or decorated in vibrant colors and displays that were wholly independent of the consoles around them. It was like an interior decorator’s dreamscape come to life. And yet, it was the very clashing of colors and patterns that brought the room together. It was insanity. It was mesmerizing.
As Svetlana gawked, Ed addressed her. You will find a predominance of blues and yellows along the liquid murals. They have been chosen to represent you. As I have stated, blue represents peace and tranquility. Yellow, for the Kalarael, can represent a variety of feelings from illness to fear to reverence. For you, it is the latter. They regard you as a being of tranquility, though one to be feared, or revered, for the fierceness in which you defend it.
Svetlana’s focus shifted to the throng before her. Much like the room’s décor, each multicolored, feather-haired alien wore garments that looked wholly their own. There was no single, universal feature that tied one Kalarael to the next. Some donned long-sleeved garments. Some scarcely wore garments at all. Some wore what looked like tribal garb complete with decorative feathers. Some wore clean, lustrous metal.
In the front of the gathering stood Koti-Raen. The slender Kalarael leader was standing at the front of the gathering, his white, orange, and purple mane of down feathers tensing up. And as Svetlana was learning to do, her focus went straight to his eyes. Sure enough, as Ei`dorinthal had indicated, they were beginning to yellow.
Reverence, and some fear, Ed explained.
Koti-Raen was wearing a sleeveless, navy and silver, skin-tight outfit. Of all the Kalarael in the room, he not only looked the most official, but also the most mundane. Unlike the Kalarael around him, nothing about what he wore drew attention to itself. Meaning in subtlety, perhaps? Or maybe his tie-dyed outfits were all in the wash.
As Svetlana shifted her gaze to the Kalarael surrounding him, she saw that their eyes were collectively shifting into a rich, full yellow, like a wave washing over the crowd. All at once, the Kalarael stepped forward with their left feet, bowing their bodies and dipping their heads as their left hands flattened and then swayed in front of them. This was not the same curtsey as what she’d seen from Yigôzien, but it was still clearly a societal custom.
As expected, Ed chimed in. You will find that the Kalarael have an extremely complex system of visual display. Though many of their displays may seem similar upon first glance, they all possess subtle intricacies that make their meanings specific. You have heard Yigôzien refer to herself as an invoker of custom. Custom and the proper conveying of such is held in the utmost importance to the Kalarael. Her role is like that of a religious leader. In Earthae terms, an invoker of custom is the practical equivalent of a ceremonial priest or priestess. Customs and personal displays are regarded among the Kalarael to a degree that approaches worship.
So that was what the “custom” in Yigôzien’s title referenced. Angling her head, Svetlana asked Ed, With this display, what are they conveying to me now?
I am still learning the complexities of their display system, which is tied into their eye color. Though I cannot precisely explain what this display is attempting to convey, I can tell you that there is an overwhelming sense of awe emanating from the group.
Curiously, Yigôzien herself did not mimic the bowing gesture. She was the only one not to do so, instead simply dipping her head with her hands resting one atop the other in front of her. Was her status or role in this somehow different from everyone else’s? As Koti-Raen rose to a stand, the others behind him followed suit.
I will now connect you directly with Koti-Raen, relayed Ed. At this time, I am unable to connect with multiple Kalarael at once. The emotional floodgate, as you call it, would be overwhelming.
I understand. Honestly, Svetlana was thrilled to be able to communicate with any Kalarael at all. Sucking in hard through her nasal cavities—and noticing the increased difficulty in doing so more than ever—she leveled off her head and waited for Koti-Raen to address her.
Instantly, the sense of awe that Ed hinted at became apparent. The feeling she was getting from Koti-Raen was more than one of respect. This was akin to beholding a deity. Through the tidal wave of emotion, communication emerged. “I am Koti-Raen, head of this space station. It is the greatest honor of my life to greet you, Lady Setana.”
Lady Setana?
I have informed the Kalarael of your self-assigned title, Ed told her. They wished to know how you desired to be addressed.
Hearing that title come from a Kalarael was…strange. Perhaps a bit uncomfortable. Nonetheless, it was indeed what she’d asked for.
Koti-Raen continued, his melodic tongue dubbed in the most eloquent Russian. “We acknowledge that you have been brought to us by the—” The translation became garbled. “—Godwinds.”
I apologize, master, relayed Ed in reference to the lost bit of verbiage. I am still striving to understand some of their concepts for the purpose of translation. The Kalarael believe you to be some form of divine emanation.
She had no idea what that meant.
I have not yet grasped the Kalarael religion. Much like their language, it appears to be complex.
In front of Svetlana, Koti-Raen was standing in silence, awaiting her reply and likely wondering if his words had been understood. With literally no idea how to proceed, here, the only thing Svetlana could manage was, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” The words were so basic—so cordial. Maybe it was better that way.
Drawing a breath through his canine snout, Koti-Raen said, “Invoker Yigôzien will now take you to your room.”
Her eyes shifted to a pair of darishu as they entered side by side. Focus returning to Koti-Raen, she said, “Will my comrades also be provided chambers here?” She didn’t want to just assume the answer was yes. Nonetheless, a swell of affirmation did emanate from the feather-haired being—if not coupled with a tinge of disgust.
“Though it angers me that they will be treated with such dignity, chambers will be provided,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow.
I remind you, said Ed, that they will tell you exactly how they feel, with no regard for how it is received. You must learn to separate openness from intent to offend.
This was going to be fun. Suppressing her urge to be offended, she said only, “Thank you.”
I am severing your connection with Koti-Raen and linking you with Yigôzien once again, relayed Ed.
As Yigôzien led Svetlana away through the room, Svetlana’s eyes wandered to the blue and yellow “paint” that was flowing sideways along the metal walls. It was the strangest substance she had ever seen—like a living, bioluminescent liquid, just flowing wherever it wanted in a gravity-defying display. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it just to see what it felt like—to see how thick it was and if it’d react to her. Then again, for all she knew, it was all just a holographic display. Nonetheless, the blue and yellow shades in which the room was cast were truly breathtaking. And apparently, all for her.
She could feel the eyes of every Kalarael on her as she passed through the room. No attempt was made by the aliens to hide their awe. To have so many eyes unabashedly on her was among the weirdest, most unsettling feelings she’d ever had. Whatever chamber Yigôzien was leading her to, she was ready to get there and close the door. As they left the laboratory and made their way down a spacious corridor, the same pair of darishu that’d entered the room earlier fell in line behind them, their metallic tromping almost reminiscent of Nightmen marching in unison in the halls of The Machine. There were so many strange things here, so much to ask about. She knew she’d be able to in time.
The more Svetlana walked, the less she began to notice the difference in gravity between Kalar and Earth. It was slight to begin with, so it didn’t take much to feel acclimated to this new environment. If only her breathing was normal. Every breath she took felt more labored than the last, to the point where she just felt more comfortable leaving her mouth open. Whatever apparatus Yigôzien had been referencing, Svetlana was ready for it.
At long last, Yigôzien’s pace slowed. A quick crane of Svetlana’s neck revealed their destination: an open archway branching off to the right of the corridor. Stopping on the other side of the archway, Yigôzien gestured for Svetlana to step inside. “This room has been given to you for the remainder of your stay, Lady Setana.”
That was as much as she could take. “Please. Just call me Setana.”
“It would not be proper to deviate from Earthae custom, particularly as an invoker of such.”
“It is not a custom,” Svetlana said. “It was more like a specific preference for a certain time. What is more customary among Earthae is for friends to refer to each other by their first names.”
The blue in Yigôzien’s eyes remained bright and full. “As custom dictates, Setana.” Gesturing with an open hand, she beckoned Svetlana to pass through the archway. The pair of darishu halted outside and each one turned to take position at either side of the door. Eyes ahead, Svetlana made her way into the room.
It was shaped like a dome. The walls were white and textured, akin to stucco or unfinished plasterwork. At the height of the dome was an oculus similar to those she’d seen in the laboratory, and just like in the laboratory, the light that shone through was as brilliant as sunlight. Size-wise, the room couldn’t have been more than twelve feet in diameter. Cozy was the word that came to mind. A floating bed, much like the one in the quarantine chamber, was along the curved wall, and there were visible sliding doors built into the curvature in numerous places. On a decorative level, the room was stark white, just like the quarantine chamber.
“This chamber is small,” said Yigôzien as she entered behind Svetlana and Ed, “but it is good enough to suit your needs.” Stepping to one of the small, square panels built into the curvature, Yigôzien turned her head Svetlana’s direction. “Come and wave your hand in front of this panel.”
Svetlana did as told, approaching the panel and waving her palm before it. As soon as the panel registered the motion, it slid up. What it revealed made Svetlana’s eyes widen.
“Food and drink, Setana,” Yigôzien said.
It was a glass of water and a bowl filled with a thick colloid substance akin to pudding. The instant that the thought of tasting something other than calunod entered her mind, her mouth began watering.
“This is mastrin, a laboratory-grown food source produced here on this space station. It is not flavorful, but it is safe for your consumption. Though your species seems to process food similarly to ours, the biologists on this station did not want to risk offering you something that could prompt an allergic reaction.” Her whiskers twitched. “There are several more tests they wish to run on you before opening you up to the full Kalarael diet.”
Frankly, at this stage, Svetlana didn’t care if she was eating dirt. This mastrin, or whatever it was called, wasn’t calunod. That was all she cared about.
“The liquid in this glass is water. Nothing has been added to it.”
Nothing needed to be. Parched beyond comprehension, Svetlana immediately asked, “May I drink now?”
“Yes.”
Yigôzien had scarcely gotten the word out when Svetlana reached for the tall glass, lifting it into her lips. Leaning her head back, Svetlana chugged like never in her life.
Every ice-cold gulp that slid down her throat was pure bliss. In a state of total refreshment, she closed her eyes. This wasn’t anything like the stale, stagnant water she’d been given in ration-quantity on the Zone Runner. This was fresh. Frigid. It was wonderful. Within ten seconds, she emptied the entire glass. Gasping, she lowered the glass and looked at her alien companion. “How do I get more?”
Smile emerging, Yigôzien pointed to a small indentation inside the panel. “Place the glass here and it will be refilled.”
Wasting no time, Svetlana did as indicated. When the bottom of the empty glass came to rest, water flowed from what must have been a hidden spigot above. Within seconds, the glass was filled to the top. After grabbing it again, she tipped back her head to gulp down the entire glass. To taste something so cold, so quenching…there were no words for it.
“The mastrin works the same way,” Yigôzien said. “Once a bowl has been consumed and placed in its indentation, it will self-clean and refill. Mastrin is made available to all Kalarael on this station in such a manner. All other meals are eaten together.”
Svetlana set the emptied glass down, and for a third time, watched it refill. Focus turning to the bowl of mastrin, she reached forward to take it. Made of what felt like a glossy, white ceramic, the bowl was as cold to the touch as the glass of water. This little panel must have acted like a wall-mounted refrigerator. There were no spoons or other utensils to be seen—rather, the bowl itself had a small spout protruding from it. Taking the bowl with each hand, she lifted it to her mouth and carefully tipped it toward her, salivating before the colloid substance even touched her lips. As she was soon to find out, however, there was no need for such anticipation.
If someone on Earth had decided to make an antacid-flavored pudding with a touch of chalk dust, it would have been mastrin. When it touched her tongue and she registered its flavor—or lack thereof—Svetlana’s face twisted into a displeased grimace. The only way she could think to describe the flavor was chemical. Calunod tasted better. But food was food, and she was utterly starving. She needed to consume this whole bowl—and so that was what she did. As Yigôzien watched patiently, Svetlana ate the entire bowl. Bland or not, this was fuel for the body, and Svetlana had long been running on empty. Finishing the bowl, she closed her eyes and embraced the feeling of fullness within her. Thank You, God, for this food. Setting the bowl down, she released a satisfied sigh before reaching for a third glass of water.
“You may have as much water and mastrin as you desire.” Stepping away from the panel, Yigôzien approached a larger one farther down the room. “In addition to the breathing apparatus being designed for you, garments are also being tailored for your body. These will be presented to you soon. Until then, please use the loose-fitting garments in this closet.” Yigôzien waved her hand in front of the closet panel, causing it to slide open in much the same way as the alien mini-fridge.
Hanging in the closet were several translucent, silver gowns. And by translucent, they were translucent. As she approached them in scrutiny, the very first thought that came to Svetlana’s mind was that whoever saw her wearing one of those things would see…everything. “Is there anything that can, erm, cover me better?”
Angling her head curiously, Yigôzien simply asked, “Why?”
Svetlana blinked. Seriously?
Chiming in mentally, Ed said to her, The Kalarael do not value privacy as you humans do. They are an open culture that does not experience the same shame in nakedness as your species.
That is all well and good, but I am still not going to walk around in the nude.
Why not?
Though she wanted to roll her eyes, Svetlana stopped herself as to not clue Yigôzien into the covert conversation. Knowing that an answer needed to be given to the invoker, Svetlana came up with the best one she could. “There are parts of the human body that are considered sacred,” she said to Yigôzien. “We do not customarily show these parts of our bodies to just anyone.” She wanted to get that word in there. Hopefully an invoker of custom would understand.
Eyes remaining blue—which Svetlana took as a good sign—Yigôzien dipped her head. “As custom dictates. I will find a solution to this problem.”
As soon as the brief dialogue ended, Svetlana returned to her mental chat with Ei`dorinthal. You of all people should know why not, Ed. Because I don’t like being naked!
But I have sensed in your mind many times when you wished to be naked with Scott Remington.
“Oh my God!” Svetlana blurted out, prompting Yigôzien’s ears to pin back. Very quickly, Svetlana raised her hand to diffuse. “I am sorry. I am communicating telepathically with my friend.” Turning away from Yigôzien, Svetlana’s eyes narrowed at Ed. That is different. A woman—a human—might have the desire to show their body to someone they love. But that does not mean we will do it for everyone.
Why not?
Because it would be embarrassing!
A swell of genuine confusion came from the alien. Among Earthae, perhaps. But who are the Kalarael to you? Do you feel that same sense of shame around me? I have seen you stripped of nearly all your clothes and dignity. You sat chained to the bridge floor next to Nagogg. Mishka urinated on your head.
Svetlana’s face tinged red.
I have only recently experienced the sensation you humans refer to as pride. Despite the thrill it stirs within one’s spirit, it strikes me as a dangerous thing. Without pride, there would be no shame. The juxtaposition of these two sensations breeds internal struggle. You, in particular, are a prideful human. Because of that pride, you have experienced the pain of shame more strongly than any human I have examined, even prior to your experiences with Nagogg.
As he continued on, Ed angled his head. It is your belief, in the aftermath of what occurred in the Zone Runner, that you have lost your sense of pride—but in fact, the opposite has occurred. You care exponentially more now about how you are viewed.
That is ridiculous, she spat.
It is not. You have tasted what it means to be powerful, and now you are terrified to lose it. You are terrified to lose.
Terrified to lose. What rubbish.
Even now, Ed said, I can sense the anger resonating within you. You do not like hearing these things because you know they are true.
Stupid, bald-head little alien.
Disappointment emanated from Ei`dorinthal. After several seconds without a response, he simply relayed to her, Yigôzien is waiting for you.
That was fine and well with Svetlana. She didn’t want to talk to Ed any more than she absolutely needed to. Facing Yigôzien again, she said, “I apologize. Please continue.”
Eyes somewhat dark—a shade that Svetlana had come to recognize as associated with trepidation—the Kalarael said, “Your change in demeanor frightens me. I fear you are angry at me.”
Remember, they are always open about how they feel, said Ed quickly.
Though she wasn’t pleased to hear his voice in her mind, she found a granule of appreciation for the information. “The telepathic conversation I was having with Ei`dorinthal was emotional,” she said to Yigôzien. “I am not angry at you.” After a pause, she added, “Or at him.” It was a lie. Ed knew it was, too.
Approaching a panel similar in size to the closet, Yigôzien waved her hand in front of it, causing it to open. “This is a toilet.”
Well, that was good to know about.
“If you wish, I will demonstrate how we use it.”
“That’s not necessary,” Svetlana said, raising her hand to ward off the offer. “I am sure I can figure it out.” The thought of Yigôzien going into demo mode on the commode wasn’t exactly something that excited her. Besides, the toilet itself was nothing more than a smoothed out, raised cylinder with a large hole atop it. It was pretty obvious what one was supposed to do.
Turning toward the final panel, Yigôzien gestured toward it. “Behind that panel, you will find a mirror.”
When Svetlana heard the word, her body went rigid.
“Should you wish to see yourself, simply wave your hand in front of this panel as you did for the others.”
A mirror. Of all the dangers in the universe, she feared none as much as she did her own reflection. She had seen an image of herself without a nose only once, in one of Ed’s dreamscapes. But a mirror…a mirror would hold nothing back. In her mind, she envisioned herself as a hideous monster. A mirror would tell her if she was right. Even as Yigôzien stepped away from the panel, Svetlana’s eyes stayed transfixed on it. Terrified of it. At long last, she had the ability to see her new self. Did she want to?
Yigôzien made her way toward the archway, turning Svetlana’s way once again. “A pair of darishu will be posted at the door for the duration of your stay, however long it may be.”
Though Svetlana was listening to every word Yigôzien said, her eyes remained on the panel that hid the mirror—watching it warily, as if at any moment, it might slide open and reveal itself.
“I know that you must have many questions. You may ask me now, if you wish.”
She did have many questions. More than she could even organize in her mind. But this was so much to take in. On every level—mental, physical, emotional—she was just spinning. What she wanted more than anything was to be left alone. “I think for now,” she said, “I would just like some time to think.”
“I understand.” Taking a step back toward the archway, she said, “I will depart to retrieve new garments for you, as you have requested. I will deliver them to you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
As she had several times before, Yigôzien lowered into a curtsey before rising and taking her leave.
Svetlana waited until the invoker cleared the archway before allowing herself to relax. As silence fell into the room, the blonde’s eyes once again returned to the mirror panel.
Ed, still present in her mind, seemed to pick up on it. You are wondering whether or not you should look.
“I do not need to look,” she said quickly. “Seeing my reflection will do nothing to improve my situation.”
Nonetheless, you are wondering.
Inhaling sharply, she closed her eyes and angled her head in Ed’s general direction, as if on the verge of spouting something off to him. She caught herself before the words came out. Exhaling slowly, she returned her stare to the panel. “How long do you think we can afford to stay here?”
There was a pause before the Ithini answered, We can stay here indefinitely.
For a second time, she turned her head his way. “How can we stay indefinitely?”
Any sense of urgency to return to Earth is self-imposed. We do not know what is taking place there. The last thing we remember is that humans attacked Novosibirsk. We do not know the outcome of that attack. Therefore, there is no definitive reason for us to feel constrained by time.
“Just the same, we are not staying here forever.”
I did not believe we were. It is still, nonetheless, an option.
Had it not been for the revelation that the Kalarael had a living Khuladi in custody, Svetlana would have dropped off Yigôzien and turned back for Earth right away. The reason she was there was to glean knowledge that might be used to Earth’s advantage. To learn something new that might tip the scales in the war. But that was what she wanted. What did the Kalarael want with them?
Turning to face Ed fully, Svetlana said, “I need to know everything you know about them. Their motives, their customs—apparently, customs are important. What are these gestures they are making? What is Yigôzien’s role, exactly? Anything you have been able to determine, I need to understand.” Though she had already learned a little bit from Ed, the two hadn’t had a chance to talk about the Kalarael in depth. Ed had apparently spent many hours one-on-one with Yigôzien while Svetlana slept. She needed the full rundown.
I do not know as much as you may think, Ed explained. Much of my time spent connected to Yigôzien was spent attempting to understand their use of language to relay context and communicational syntax. In effect, I was learning the Kalarael alphabet. A slight swell of discomfort emanated from the Ithini. As you know, a mental connection is not the same as an active translation. It does not provide a word-for-word equivalent, but an explanation as best I can understand it, in a language that each understands. He hesitated. Though the conversation you had with Yigôzien and Koti-Raen may seem to have made sense to you, it is possible that there were many errors on both sides. You have already witnessed several breakdowns in translation.
She did know that, and she understood Ed’s plight in being the one responsible for making these connections work. As long as she didn’t accidentally declare war or grant them permission to eat her brain, she would continue to give the Ithini the patience he so needed to work and learn. As she considered the work Ed was putting in, she felt a tinge of guilt for the way she’d addressed him earlier. He hadn’t deserved that.
I am sensing a measure of guilt from you in light of our prior conversation.
Her stomach twisted. Hiding thoughts from these aliens was simply impossible.
Ed continued. There is no need to feel such guilt. You are my master, and it is my function to serve you as best I am able. If I am not satisfying that requirement, then the fault is with me.
“Do not say that.” The fault was with her. “I am sorry for snapping at you. I am…” Shaking her head slightly, she sought for the words. Ed found them for her.
You are experiencing things unlike anything a member of your species has experienced before.
That pretty much summed it up.
I will continue to learn the Kalarael language as best I am able, Ed said. Yigôzien will be the key to this process. The more time you can spend with her, the more effective my ability to connect with her will be. I have a far greater understanding of her mental framework than I do Koti-Raen or any other specimen.
“That works for me.”
A sense of affirmation came from the Ithini. In the meantime, it would be in your best interest to exercise self-care. I am aware that the substance you ate—mastrin—was unpalatable. However, you have lost considerable weight and muscle mass since your capture. You need to gain it back.
It almost made her laugh. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever been “instructed” to eat as much as possible—and it came at a time when the only available option was antacid paste. “I don’t suppose you can alter my brain to make that stuff taste better?”
I cannot.
Smirking, she walked to the mini-fridge panel. When she waved her hand in front of it, it rose again, revealing a full glass of water and a cold bowl of mastrin. Nothing in her wanted to down a bowl of that colloid substance again, but Ed was right. If mastrin was the thing to put meat back on her, so be it. Taking hold of the water in one hand and the bowl in the other, she readied herself to dive back in. As she expected, her second experience with mastrin was no better than the first. But she knew she’d get used to it. She’d certainly gotten used to much worse.
As Yigôzien had promised, she returned to Svetlana’s dome-shaped chamber with a new set of garments for her to try. Though similar to the translucent gowns that’d been hanging there for her, these nonetheless provided more coverage of her “sacred” parts, with large, silver components that covered her torso and midsection. The combination of silver and clear fabrics made for one of the more beautiful garments she had ever seen—at least, by human standards. With the gown slipped on, she looked less like a malnourished prisoner of war and more like an interstellar dignitary. If nothing else, it gave her a measure of self-respect, which she’d been sorely lacking.
For the next several hours, Yigôzien, Ed, and Svetlana remained in her domed quarters, watched over by the pair of darishu at the archway entrance. Though Svetlana had a plethora of questions for her fox-eared friend, she was discouraged from doing so by Ed simply because he wished to communicate with Yigôzien one-on-one. It was an exercise intended to help him increase his understanding of the Kalarael language so that he might be able to connect more easily and broadly, possibly even allowing for “wide-area connections,” as humans called them. Whatever helped move the process along faster and better, she was all for.
Ei`dorinthal may not have considered returning to Earth a priority, but Svetlana did. Relative or not, the more time she spent there with the Kalarael, the less time she could potentially spend with her friends back on Earth. She wanted to get whatever information the Kalarael had about the Khuladi and then get out of there. Novosibirsk was waiting for her.
She was ready to return to it.