The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) (34 page)

Just as they were to land, he felt another pinch in his neck. And everything went blurry.

When Eshel came to, he looked around him. He was lying down, unbound and unclothed. They’d taken his uniform. A gray robe, rather than a blue one, hung on a hook. He put it on, looking around him. The room contained a small bed, a desk, and a separate toilet. He tried the door: it was locked. When he looked up, he saw surveillance cells. With no window and no timepiece, he had no knowledge of the time.
 

He didn’t know where he was.
 

Hours passed. And finally, the door opened. Eshel looked up, expecting to see Minel and continue their purposeless conversation in Jula… or perhaps even Elisan, the kunsheld himself. Instead, someone unexpected emerged.

Elan. He closed the door, his pale gray eyes examining Eshel closely as he stood unmoving for several long moments. Finally, he approached Eshel and put his cheek to his.
 

“You are returned,” Elan said. He stepped back, his eyes running over Eshel. “They force you to wear the robe of the Osecal,” he observed. He stood still, remaining silent for several more moments. “You are in danger, Eshel. I will exert my influence where I can, but I have little hope that you will be freed. Tell Elisan what he wants to know. Tell him about the technology of the humans. Tell him how you were able to survive your journey to the other worlds. Tell him everything.”
 

Eshel remained silent.
 

Elan looked around him, finally taking a seat at the desk. “Why, Eshel? Why leave your people, your work, your home… just to live under the rules of those who do not appreciate our science?”

“Some of them do.”

“Not enough of them. It is said you were not allowed in their science labs. How could you not convince them?”

“How could they not convince Elisan, and your mother, to join the Alliance?” Eshel replied. “Such change does not happen quickly.”

“That is no equivalent example.”

“Isn’t it? In both cases, each fears what it does not understand.” Eshel paused. “Such a decision—to leave—was difficult, Elan. It is not my intent to be traitorous, or to reveal secrets to the others. But I believe, as my father did, that we, and our scientific abilities, cannot thrive in isolation.”

Elan did not reply. Eshel knew he could not, that any support of such an idea wouldn’t sit well with those who listened.

“Is Alshar well?” Eshel said.
 

Elan’s cold expression softened. “She has grown quite tall. And she already shows impressive understanding of the science.” He paused. “Your mother—she is well. I imagine she will be quite persuasive on your behalf.”

Yes. Where his father was brilliant in his scientific innovation, his mother’s many years of service in their assembly afforded her considerable power.
 

Elan stood up. He looked at Eshel once more, and left.
 

Eshel awoke to the sound of the door. This time, when he saw who entered, he felt an immediate revulsion.
 

Elisan, not quite as tall as Eshel and his hair faded with age, extended his arm, palm up, and slowly raised it. Eshel hesitated for a moment, then did as he was asked and stood up.
 

“Eshel,” Elisan began in his disdainful tone. “How is it to return to your homeworld?”

Eshel said nothing in reply.
 

Elisan peered at Eshel for some time, as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “It has been a long time—1.84 years, to be accurate—since you have lived among us. Or do you calculate the passing of time in Earth years now?”

“Why am I here, Elisan?”
 

“You are here for the same reason I am, for the same reason we all are. You are here because you are Korvali, and the Korvali do not abscond from our homeworld, do not live among the others, and do not share our technologies with the others.”

“You are at least partially wrong,” Eshel replied. “I achieved two of those things you claim the Korvali do not do. Do you care to know which two?”

Elisan looked at him with unblinking eyes. “If you knew how your words will impact your future, you would be more cautious in how you speak to me.”

Eshel relented. “I did not share my knowledge. I was forbidden to do so, even if I had wanted to. The others have informed you of this.”

“Yes, we were informed. By so many. But why would I believe the words of the outsiders… or the words of a traitor?”
 

“Examine their publications. Their methodologies are as simplistic as they have ever been. You don’t have to believe me; ask Elan to examine their work. He will find nothing of use.”

“Perhaps. But this Alliance—they seek to exploit the knowledge of other worlds, to impose their rules, all with promises of protection and information exchange. They don’t want exchange. They want to take, to dilute, to ruin what we have built, for their own gain. It is an insidious ploy for military societies to prey upon the intellectually advanced, hoping to control them.”
 

“That is not the case.”

“No? Then why do you wear their uniform? Why do you now speak with inflection? Why do you involve yourself with Catherine Finnegan?” Elisan sneered at the mention of Catherine’s name. “Five hundred and seven outsiders available to you on that ship, and you align yourself with a geneticist. I do not pretend to have your skills with probability, Eshel… but do you not agree that such a choice was an improbable one, far beyond the vagaries of chance?” Elisan paused. “You do only what benefits you. You are like your father in that way. You didn’t train to become such a proficient, just to dispense with it all.”

Elisan sat, and gestured for Eshel to do the same. “You were difficult to reclaim, Eshel, at least with those bungling Sunai fools in charge of the task. I am told these gumiia were quite the objects of ridicule among their peers for having been scared off by this redheaded female! And the next time, when they found you alone at the water station after those unbearably primitive fights, they bungled it once again. It seemed they were unprepared for your newly developed combat skills, for your willingness to touch an outsider and use such primitive methods!” He paused. “And your special weapon—developed, I assume, with the help of this Space Corps? And you say you haven’t succumbed to the Alliance’s stronghold!”

“Such skills are a necessity offworld, Elisan,” Eshel said. “It was not my desire to develop them.”

“Yet it is interesting that this Catherine Finnegan knows these skills as well.” Elisan was about to continue, but then stopped, his face growing colder. It was some time before he spoke again. “Such a defiance. Even if I did not punish you for your transgressions, for your traitorous acts… your people, the people of the Shereb clan… they will. They won’t forgive this… abomination.”

A strong sense of dread flooded him. They knew. They knew Catherine had been more than his friend. They knew he’d done the unspeakable.
 

“And this old man, this Commander you have conversed with,” he said. “What do you say of him?”

“He is an idiot,” Eshel said coldly. “His knowledge of the science is unworthy.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Again, Elisan, why am I here? It is clear you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Be patient, Eshel. There will come a time, very soon, when we will listen to everything you have to say.” Elisan stood up and walked toward the door. He then turned to face Eshel. “Perhaps some time in solitude, with no distraction, will allow you to recall all that you have learned in your extended stay among the others. And we will see if it meets our expectations.”
 

Elisan left.
 

Eshel sat in silence, contemplating what he would say to Elisan and his aides. Elan had offered a veiled warning about the information they wanted most. However, there was only so much information Eshel had at his disposal, and only so much he was willing to share. And he sensed that no amount of information, no matter how powerful, would fully satisfy them. That’s when he began considering ideas for escape. Unless Elan offered him aid, they would drug him and leave him in the remote territories to die. Without the drug to initiate stasis, the likelihood of his survival was slim. There was only one other option.

Catherine. Would she be inclined to help him, to implement the plan he’d laid out for her? Normally he would assume as much, that Catherine was less prone to behave with unnecessary levels of irrationality or to allow her anger to govern her decisions. But then his mind produced an image of Catherine, one so vivid that he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes… her expression had seemed to show a combination of numerous emotions, as she’d delivered the blow to his cheek.
 

Even if Catherine would follow his plan, could she convince Captain Ferguson, who’d never liked or trusted him, to execute the plan? That too was difficult to predict. But even with Catherine’s willingness and Ferguson’s concessions, his plan had a flaw. A fatal flaw.

He was not where he’d told Catherine to look for him.

Even if Catherine and Tom infiltrated Korvalis, finding him would be nearly impossible. And if they didn’t find him, the Space Corps would only have more violent alternatives available to them. They would not risk brazenly disregarding the firm boundaries of the Korvali. They would not risk war with his people. The Alliance wouldn’t allow it. And while Eshel wanted to hope for a solution, he knew one didn’t exist. He knew that the risks to the Space Corps and the Alliance outweighed the rather small benefit of retrieving any refugee from his own planet, much less a refugee they didn’t like, from a people they didn’t like. He wouldn’t either, if he were in their position.
 

And Eshel acknowledged the terrible inevitable—that he would never see the others again. He focused his mind on what he’d achieved during his time offworld: he’d followed through on a plan devised by him and his father, and created a small bridge between his people and the others; he’d taught the others more about his people, as Ashan had; and he’d left a piece of Korvali technology to Catherine, enough that someone of her intelligence could make use of it someday. It wasn’t the legacy he’d hoped to leave, but it was a useful beginning.
 

Yet despite his best efforts, Eshel felt an emptiness descend upon him at the prospect of being separated from all that was outside Korvalis. To counteract the feeling, he focused on those things he would not, to use Catherine’s word, “miss.” He would not miss sharing such close quarters with boisterous, talkative bunkmates. He would not miss Suna’s blistering climate and its insufferable males. He would not miss Captain Ferguson’s needling him, Commander Steele’s bumbling knowledge of the science, or Middleton’s hatred. He would not miss Tom’s inability to keep confidences, the strange foods they served on
Cornelia
, nor the absence of water for him to swim in. Life outside of Korvalis, as he’d been warned, had many shortcomings.
 

However, such an exercise did little to thwart the empty feeling, and Eshel’s mind inexorably shifted to those things that would bring him regret. He would not see Earth, other than his very limited exposure at boot camp. He would not see Calyyt-Calloq or learn their complex language. He would not complete his education with the Space Corps, or continue learning to pilot a T-1 “Pokey” with Tom. He would not play poker again, or drink rallnofia, or eat the pink berries from Derovia.

And his mind finally settled upon the thing that would bring him the most sorrow. He would not see Catherine again. A vivid image of her appeared to him, this time of her standing in front of him in the waters of Mellon, small cold bumps beginning to form on her sensitive skin. He would no longer train with her, talk with her, work with her, touch her. He kneeled on the ground and bowed his head down.

That night, after they brought his meal, he slept fitfully, tormented by visions of Catherine, of Tom, of the others.

And the following morning, Eshel prepared himself for what was to come.

Terrible thoughts flooded Catherine’s mind. He wasn’t there. He could be gone, killed by his own people. They could have left him in the remote territories… but Eshel had said that would be highly unlikely, and that even if she found him, he’d probably be dead. He could be anywhere on Korvalis, and she had no means to find him. She could feel tears beginning to blur her vision; but somehow the adrenaline in her system dried them up.

After exiting the compound, Catherine stepped away from the entrance, feeling anger boil up inside her. She wanted to take her device and smash it against the stone wall.
Where the hell are you, Eshel??
She leaned against the wall and crouched down.
Think
. But her mind continued to race and anxiety began to build. She would drown in her own thoughts. She took several deep breaths and tried to remember everything Yamamoto had taught her.
Clear your thoughts
, he would say.
Don’t try to think. Quiet your mind and let the answer come to you
.
 

It took every bit of discipline she had to follow her mentor’s advice and stop trying to think of the correct solution. It was painfully difficult, as all she wanted to do was race to the next place where Eshel might be, to run from place to place, shouting his name, shoving everyone out of her way, until she found him. She closed her eyes, leaning up against the compound and breathing deeply. She forced out the inundation of thoughts, just to have them return with even greater force.
Stop trying so hard
. She let go of her thoughts, allowing them to swirl about her like a storm. Finally, the swirling began to wane and the thoughts became less forceful, until her breathing slowed and her mind cleared.
 

And it came to her. No people would go to such lengths, after so long a time, to retrieve someone like Eshel, just to kill him. It made little sense. He would be much more useful to them alive, at least for a while. It also made little sense to send him to prison like some rebellious, low status clansperson or some hated Osecal. No—he was Shereb. The Shereb would deal with him. He wouldn’t be in Felebaseb, with the other prisoners. He would be where the Shereb were.