The Glorious Becoming (36 page)

Wuteel’s eyes locked onto Tauthin the whole while he was led back to his cell, and at no point did the engineer’s bulbous eyes break away. His alien brow furrowing, Tauthin stared back. Turning from Wuteel’s cell, the guards who had escorted him returned to their posts. Only then did Wuteel visibly shift. Very slowly, he turned his head to Ei`dorinthal’s cell. Ed, plainly visible through the glass and also observing the situation, returned the odd look. Gaze lingering on Ed for a second, Wuteel looked back at Tauthin. He wanted a connection without the humans’ knowledge. That was Ed’s queue.

The human scientists had correctly concluded that there was a certain section of the Ithini brain that was dedicated to telepathic activity. What they hadn’t realized was that an Ithini could completely circumvent entire nerve pathways without any losses in power—only in activity. Like biological jumper cables, electrical impulses could be imported and exported from virtually anywhere to run otherwise unrelated parts of the brain. While Ed was busy connecting, the scientists in Confinement thought he was smelling something. The Ithini had completely defeated their telepathy-monitoring electrodes.

Tauthin felt the mental click in his mind. Ed was connected. Wuteel’s presence was there as well. Tauthin’s thinking was deliberate, intended.
I am here.
And via Ei`dorinthal’s connection, Wuteel answered immediately.

The Earthae possess a functional Zone Runner.

Despite his subtle tendencies, Tauthin’s eyes widened at the revelation. A Zone Runner.
Noboats
as the Earthae called them. Never had a captured Zone Runner been mentioned by the scientists.

Wuteel went on.
They brought me to it to explain the rift generator. They know nothing of how it works.
Glancing briefly to the scientists as they bustled about, Wuteel looked at Tauthin again.
I was blindfolded—I do not know the way to it. If we can locate it, we can escape.

Before more communication could take place, the door to Confinement opened again. The Bakmas’ focus was disrupted as Tauthin’s bulbous eyes shifted to the newcomers.

“So, explain to me again why you want to talk to the alien?” David asked as he followed Svetlana into Confinement. Glancing about at the various scientists, he pinpointed Tauthin’s cell.

Svetlana’s ocean gaze was steadfast. “Scott is being forced on this mission because of me. The least I can do is help him.” Adjusting the yellow notepad and ink pen in her hand, she approached one of the women scientists on duty. Petrov was nowhere to be seen. “Hello. I would like to speak with one of your prisoners.”

The woman eyed her behind spectacles. “Who are you?”

Apprehensively, Svetlana answered, “I am Svetlana Voronova. I am with the Fourteenth.”

“That name means nothing to me.”

David cleared his throat. “This is Scott Remington’s girlfriend.
That
name mean anything to you?”

Glancing at David irritatingly, the woman returned her focus to Svetlana, scrutinizing her as if to sum her up. Smiling only half-politely, she motioned to Tauthin’s cell. “Please, Miss Voronova. Be my guest.”

Despite the sarcasm in the scientist’s words, Svetlana acknowledged cordially. Following the woman toward Tauthin’s cell, she shot a quick look back to David, mouthing a sheepish “spasibo,” Russian for
thank you
.

“Do you require a translator?” the woman asked.

“Yes, please.”

Opening the cell and motioning for a sentry to guard it, the scientist stepped away to retrieve Ed. The moment Svetlana entered Tauthin’s cell, the Bakma angled his head curiously. Goose bumps appeared on Svetlana’s arms, but she managed a smile nonetheless. Pulling a chair to the front of the cell, she sat down.

David chuckled. “Looks like a job interview.”

As soon as Ed was ushered in, the scientist stepped from the cell. “Remain with them,” the scientist instructed the sentry. He nodded, adjusting his assault rifle as if to challenge Tauthin to attempt a hostile act.

Ed’s connection came without any prompting from Svetlana—a natural inclination for the Ithini whose job was to do that very thing. Touching her temple faintly, Svetlana looked at Tauthin and tried to smile.

Tauthin’s dark purple gaze bore into Svetlana. After several uncomfortable seconds passed, he spoke in Bakmanese, his words translated seamlessly into Svetlana’s mind via Ed’s connection.

“What is your purpose here?”

“Do you remember me?” Svetlana asked.

The Bakma nodded. “You are Setana.”

At Tauthin’s recognition, she eased slightly. “Yes. I am here to visit you today. Scott was unable to come.” Looking at her notepad, she examined the topic scribbled at the top of the first page, written simply:
Tauthin’s Planet
. “Tell me about your planet,” she said. Ink pen at the ready, she held it against the yellow paper, awaiting the alien’s response. When none came, she looked up. Tauthin was staring at her with a look that rivaled human indifference. “Tauthin?”

Tauthin said nothing. No thoughts or emotions were being conveyed from their connection.

With David watching uncomfortably, Svetlana shifted in her chair. Her focus stayed on the Bakma. “Do you understand me?”

“Did Remata send you for this?” Tauthin asked.

Crossing her legs, Svetlana bit the tip of her pen. Glancing down at the unanswered topic, she returned to Tauthin with an honest stare. “No, he did not.”

Tauthin dipped his head forward. “Are you asking on behalf of Remata?”

“No.”

“Then why should I answer a question that is irrelevant?”

Svetlana brushed her hair back and looked away.

The alien continued. “Do you not think my brethren have been asked this question ten thousand times in ten thousand more effective manners? It is among the first questions a conquering prisoner of war would be asked by its target species.” The alien’s nostrils curled, a sign of irritation. “You demand trivialities that would have been made known long ago, were any of their answers significant. That you believe you can receive them from me now is cause for scoff and disdain.”

“Okay,” said Svetlana, leaning back and exhaling as if on the verge of walking out.

Studying her reaction, Tauthin asked, “Why are you here and not Remata?”

“Because he is gone,” she answered harshly. Despite Tauthin’s blatant interest in her answer, she went on before he could follow-up. “Because I love him, and I am doing this for him in the lone hope that something I discover will be of value to him. That I might help him in some way.” Her speaking was fast-paced and bitter. “But you do not know of love, do you? I would ask you, but I am sure it was asked of your brethren in ten thousand better ways. How dare I entertain the thought?” Immediately following the frustrated tirade, Svetlana looked away. Glancing at the blank notepad, she muttered in disgust.

Silent and still standing, Tauthin observed Svetlana with an almost humanlike solemnness, her reflection centered in his dark purple lenses. Slowly, he took a step toward her, prompting the armed sentry to raise his rifle immediately. Lifting his hand as if to indicate he meant no hostile action, Tauthin’s focus returned to Svetlana.

“What?” she asked.

“You are correct,” Tauthin answered. “My species does not know of love.”

Brow quirking curiously, Svetlana sat upright. Briefly, she readied the ink pen in her hand, only to pause and abandon the effort. She set it and the yellow notepad on the floor. “Why do you not know of love, Tauthin? Has no female Bakma caught your eye?”

“I have never seen a female. I do not know what they look like.”

Svetlana’s mouth dropped. She stared at him disbelievingly.

Tauthin knelt on the floor. “Reproduction is monitored and maintained by the Khuladi. This is how they control their slave species. One gender is kept under their watch. Failure to comply with their commands results in gender eradication and inevitable species extinction. No physical contact occurs between genders—all procreation is by artificial insemination. My eggs have already been removed.”

“Your eggs?” she asked shockingly. “I don’t understand.” Behind her, David raised an eyebrow.

“In natural Bakma reproduction, eggs develop in the male ovary and are transferred to the female for fertilization and incubation until the
hour of hatching
.”

“Wait,
whoa
,” Svetlana said, holding her hands up. “The male ovary? The hour of hatching? You need to explain this.”

The Bakma shook his head. “I can only explain what I possess knowledge of. What I have shared is the extent of my experience with reproductive lore. I do not know how ovaries work.”

“Well,
that
part’s about right for a man.”

“Nor do I understand the physical act of transfer or the incubation processes of females. All hours of hatching are catalogued. Mine is—” A momentary garble hit the connection, an indication that the concept could not yet be understood by the recipient. Tauthin seemed unaware as the translation picked up again. “Beyond that knowledge, I know nothing.”

The temptation struck Svetlana to grab the notepad again. She resisted the urge. “So your eggs were removed, I assume, by the Khuladi? And no male Bakma under the Khuladi has ever had sex. So you are all virgins?”

“Words cannot express how weird it is listening to only half of this conversation,” David said.

The sentry next to him nodded. “You got that right.”

Tauthin went on. “I cannot associate your word,
sex
, with any physical action. Is
sex
your process of procreation?”

Mouth hanging, then receding, then hanging again, Svetlana answered awkwardly, “Yes. And also of pleasure. It is an act of love.”

“Is Remata your partner for this act?”

Svetlana blushed immediately.

“I heard a
Remata
in there,” David said. “I know what
he
just asked!” He nudged the sentry—both men chuckled.

“Okay,” Svetlana said, looking back at them, “we are having a very serious conversation. Can we be grown-ups, here?”

Tauthin tilted his head curiously. “Why does your face change color?”

“Ugh.” She slid her fingers in her hair. “We do that when we are embarrassed. It happens to me a lot. To answer your question, no, Scott and I have never procreated.” She snapped her fingers and pointed behind her before either of the men could comment.

“Why not?” Tauthin asked.

Pressing her lips together, she hesitated before answering. “There is a custom that humans have, where—” She paused in deep thought. “We have something called marriage. It is when a male and female who love each other become...joined, officially.” Making a face, she said, “Not everyone follows this custom.”

Bulbous eyes narrowing, Tauthin asked, “Is this joining physical?”

“No. It is supposed to be in the eyes of God. Not everyone sees it that way, but, that is the intent.”

“Who is your God?”

At that, Svetlana’s eyes widened. Exhaling deeply, she laughed a bit. “You are asking very difficult questions.” The Bakma’s face remained stoic; she leaned forward. “Our God is the Creator of the universe. He is a God of love, and mercy, and forgiveness. How do I even explain this? Are you familiar with this concept?”

He nodded. “We are taught the laws of Uladek—the being who ordained the Khuladi. He is a God of power and war.”

“Okay. That is not the real God.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—” She stopped at that word. Mouth closed, she stared at Tauthin in hesitant contemplation. A shade of anxiety crossed her brow, before she shook her head in conviction. “I cannot believe that the universe, a thing of beauty, would be the work of a God of war.”

His eyes narrowed pointedly. “Space is more violent than it is beautiful, Setana.”

“More violent than beautiful? I would rather believe they are equal.”

“Then perhaps we acknowledge the same God.”

Another deep silence hit Svetlana. Shying her eyes away, she fiddled with her fingers as she tried to right the discussion. Tauthin spoke before she could.

“There is much about the universe you cannot understand, as you have not beheld it. Your view is limited—a germ trying to understand the organism it thrives on. I am not a follower of Uladek. But if the universe personifies its Creator, then it would be foolish to believe Him any less than a God of death and power.” The Bakma stood up. “Space is unforgiving. How could its Creator be otherwise?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Svetlana said, her voice shaking.

Tauthin canted his head. “Does it challenge your faith? Reality is far deeper than you can perceive on your small blue planet.”

Eyes narrowing, Svetlana said, “Then what is your final destiny? What will happen to you when your life ends? What hope can you have in such a God as the one you described?”

“I have no hope. I have no destiny. When my life ends, I will cease.” The alien leaned forward. “I do not follow Uladek, Setana. I follow nothing.”

Svetlana continued to look away while Tauthin addressed her. Only after his words had settled into silence did she fix her ocean-blue gaze upon him. “Then
my
hope is that before you cease, you will see my God. Because to follow nothing is a miserable way to exist.”

“Easy words from a species that is free—for now.”

Svetlana rose from her chair and motioned to David and the sentry to indicate that she was finished. Picking up her yellow notepad and pen, she turned around to leave.

“Setana.”

Halting reservedly, she regarded Tauthin again.

The Bakma dipped his forehead toward her. “I have never been to my home planet, but I would like to believe it is much like your own.” The alien paused. “Earth is a beautiful sight to behold.”

Svetlana stared back at him from the cell door, watching as his eye contact lingered before he looked at Ed and nodded. Their connection disappeared. Resting her hand against the cell frame, she spoke to him a quiet
thank you
before turning to leave.

As soon as David and Svetlana were alone, the former NYPD officer placed his hand on her side. “You okay?”