The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

“Your father was permitted to leave Korvalis, then.”

“Yes.”

She paused again, as if considering what to say. “I’m told you’re transferring to Weapons.”

He nodded.

“Tom talks a lot. And he’s loud. But he’s smart… and the kind of person you want on your side.” She put her napkin down. “It will take time to grow accustomed to life here. It could take a year. Be patient. And, with some persuasion, the Alliance should loosen up their rule and allow you to do what you do best.”
 

Eshel, not entirely convinced, said only, “I am glad we spoke.”

“Me, too. Drop by the lab sometime and I’ll give you a tour.”
 

“I will.”

Eshel arrived at Weapons three minutes before he was to report to duty. A human male with well-developed musculature and curly fair hair immediately spotted him. “You must be Eshel,” he called out in a loud voice, striding over to him.

Based on Ov’Raa’s description, and the ship’s roster, Eshel guessed the man was Lieutenant Commander Tom Kingston, his new CO. When Eshel started to salute, Tom shook his head.
 

“No saluting allowed. Unless the brass is here.” He offered his hand instead.
 

Eshel hesitated, then slowly produced his hand. The handshake seemed a small price to pay for not having to salute.

Tom, seeing his reaction, withdrew his hand and put both hands up. “Ahhh, forgot about that. I heard you don’t like being touched. It’s good that you wound up with us and not the Sunai. They’re the touchy ones. I’m fine with people touching me, but that took some getting used to.”

Eshel kept watching Tom, waiting to see if he had more to say.
 

“Welcome to Weapons,” Tom said, gesturing around him. “This is where the magic happens. I’m Tom Kingston… you can call me Tom. I’ll be training you.”

Eshel, who stood nearly a full head taller than Tom, remained still as Tom looked him over.
 

“Jesus,” Tom remarked. “You Korvali are tall, aren’t you?” He pointed at Eshel’s webbed hand. “May I?”
 

Eshel, confused, produced his hand again.

Tom leaned in to get a closer look. “Webbed hands.” He studied them with some fascination. “Pretty interesting, man. You swim well?”

“Of course.”

“How many kilometers can you swim, at one time?”
 

“It depends on the conditions. Many.”

“How many? Five? Fifty? Five hundred?”

Eshel made a few mental calculations. “Fifty without problem. Five hundred is more difficult, but possible.”

“No shit,” Tom said, impressed. He looked down at Eshel’s shoes. “Webbed feet, too?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“Anything else webbed?” Tom asked with a grin.
 

“Not to my knowledge.”

He motioned for Eshel to follow him. “Let’s give you a tour of my domain.” Tom introduced him to the Weapons crew. “No handshakes, guys,” he told them. He toured Eshel around Weapons control and small arms storage, then took him down to the deck below, where the missiles and warheads were stored.
 

Finally, Tom led him into a small, lab-like cold room. “You aren’t supposed to be in here,” he said in a hushed voice. “But no Weapons tour would be complete without seeing the bioweapons.”

Eshel approached one of the shelves, carefully studying the various vials and canisters.
 

“Does bioweaponry interest you?” Tom asked.
 

“Yes.” Eshel examined the items on the adjacent shelf. “It is a Korvali… specialty.” He turned back to Tom.
 

“Is it, now? We’ll have to talk about that over beers.”

“Beers?”

“Drinks. Leisure time. Fun.” Tom looked around before ushering Eshel out the door, shutting it behind him.
 

Back in the control room, Tom motioned for Eshel to sit. He excused himself to talk to a human female, one who smiled a lot and who appeared to be called “Greta.” After she left, Tom pulled up a chair next to him, turned it backward, and sat. “I know you can’t work with the whitecoats like you wanted. But you’ll get used to being in our camp.”

“Your camp?”

Tom nodded. “There are two kinds of people in the Corps: soldiers and scientists. You’re either in one camp or the other. And on this ship, with Ferguson running things, you’re better off being a soldier. From my standpoint, Weapons is the place to be,” he added, gesturing around him.

“Catherine Finnegan believes I will find it tolerable here.”

Tom chuckled. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Finnegan knows me better than almost anyone… she’s one of my best friends.” He picked up a remote and turned on a viewer.

“Dr. Finnegan is your friend, and Greta is your girlfriend,” Eshel surmised.
 

Tom turned toward Eshel again, a stern look on his face. “Greta is not my girlfriend. She’s someone I’m seeing.”
 

“Seeing?”
 

“Spending time with. A girlfriend is a woman you’re serious about. You only get involved with her, and no other girls. I like my options.” He grinned. “What about you? Did you have a girlfriend on Korvalis? You do like women…?”
 

Eshel didn’t answer.
 

“Why the silence?” Tom pressed, eyeing him. “There are females on your planet, right?”

“Yes. We are dimorphic, like humans.”
 

Tom’s attention was diverted when Private Zander called out and asked if Tom were going to the fights. “Yup. Let’s get a drink first.” He looked at Eshel. “Come with us. You’ll like it.”

Eshel refilled his cold-water canteen and walked to the ship’s port bar. “Not the starboard bar,” Tom had told him twice. “That’s only for officers.” As he entered the bar, he heard Tom call his name, and he joined the table where Tom sat with Zander, Kovsky, Portino, and another male with a shaved head. Eshel recognized the shaved male; he’d thrown Lieutenant Snow the water canteen that day in Engineering, and had whispered what Eshel learned later was an insult.
Middleton
. Middleton stared at him with the same strange look as he had that day.
 

Tom had already ordered Eshel a beer. Eshel picked up the cold cup and took a sip. A disgusting taste spread through his mouth as he felt a wave of nausea come over him. He quickly turned his head and spat the beer on the floor, hoping the feeling would pass. Fortunately, it did.
 

When he looked up, the men watched him in silence. Tom quickly glanced around, then at the bartender, who chatted animatedly with two females. Once their initial shock wore off, Tom and the other guys erupted into laughter. Except Middleton.
 

“Man, what’s wrong with you?” Middleton said. “You can’t spit on the floor. You’re gonna get us kicked out of here.”

“Shut it, Middleton,” Tom said. “No one saw.”

Middleton scowled, shaking his head.
 

Eshel looked at them. “You cannot tell me you enjoy this taste,” he said in wonder, looking inside the cup, the horrible taste still in his mouth. “Repulsive.” He reached for his canteen and took a drink.
 

“It’s an acquired taste, man,” Tom said. “Just keep sipping it.”

“Not everyone likes beer when they first try it, but I’ve never seen anyone react like that!” Zander said. “Maybe I should drink yours for you.”

Eshel pushed his cup toward Zander.

“Get him a girl’s drink, LC,” Portino suggested.
 

The other men watched him. He sensed they were looking for some kind of reaction to Portino’s remark, but he didn’t know what. “If a girl’s drink is palatable, then I will try one.”

Tom rapped his hand on the table and went to the bar. He returned with a new cup filled with a green beverage, but a green he’d never seen before, even in the gardens of his homeworld. Eshel eyed it skeptically and took a sip. It had a very pleasant taste. “That is better.”

“Girl’s drink it is!” Tom concluded. He raised his cup.
 

“Here, here,” the other men said, raising their cups. They looked at Eshel, so he followed suit and raised his cup.

Once the men finished their beers, and Eshel his Derovian greenberry liqueur, they descended a few decks to the gymnasium and took a seat on the bleachers with all the other spectators. He recognized Commander Yamamoto standing on the gym floor, surrounded by a group of people in loose black outfits.
 

The crowd quieted down as Eshel watched a pair of human males—one fair and one dark—face one another on a large mat. They circled each other. Then, the dark man attempted to strike at the other with his leg, but was blocked. They swung at one another with their arms, each blocking the other’s hits. They continued to block one another’s strikes until, suddenly, the dark one managed to tangle his leg with his opponent’s and take him to the mat. They grappled on the mat, each struggling to gain control over the other, until the dark one seemed to dominate. There were shouts from the crowd. Commander Yamamoto intervened by separating the two men, who stood up, bowed to one another, and left the mat. Another pair of men took position on the mat.
 

Eshel, who observed the proceedings with fascinated uneasiness, suddenly felt a painful sensation on his right side. Tom had elbowed him.
 

“Sorry, buddy,” Tom said upon seeing Eshel’s annoyance. “I said your name three times. What do you think of the fights?”

“They are… interesting. What is the purpose of their combat?”

“It’s friendly competition, training for those who take self-defense. You try to get the other guy to submit, or give up.”

After several pairs of men competed, two females entered the competition circle.
 

“This is my favorite part,” Zander said. He whistled, and Portino joined in, as did some other spectators.

When the two women finished their session, one subduing the other by pinning her on the mat, each bowed and exited. Another woman and man walked onto the mat. The woman’s hair was arranged in knots on her head, and something seemed familiar about her. Once he saw her face, Eshel realized why. “That is Catherine Finnegan.”
 

“Go Doctor F!” Zander called out.

“Yep, that’s her. And her opponent, Holloway, works for her,” Tom said with a chuckle. “Take him out, Finnegan!”
 

Eshel watched as Catherine calmly waited for her opponent to make his move. Once he did, she easily blocked his series of attacks before she hugged both his legs and took him to the mat, her long-limbed figure performing the task with a grace that Eshel found strangely admirable. After wrestling with one another for a time, she managed to trap her opponent with her legs around him and her arm around his neck until he seemed to have no option for escape. When he rapped his hand on the mat twice, Yamamoto called for them to stop. They untangled themselves, stood up, and bowed.
 

Once the fights finished, the guys disbanded while Eshel went the ship’s library.
 

Eshel arrived at the bridge ready room at 1350. As he walked in, Yamamoto immediately greeted him and told him where to sit. He pulled out the chair at the far end of the long empty table and sat down. When Ov’Raa and Commander Steele walked in, Yamamoto pointed out their seats and each sat on the long side of the table to Eshel’s left.
 

A minute later, Captain Ferguson arrived, her usual uniform adorned with a sash that crossed her torso. The sash had an insignia containing four different symbols, each with a different color. Eshel recognized it; it was the Alliance’s insignia, each color and symbol representing the four Alliance worlds: Suna, Derovia, Calyyt-Calloq, and Earth. In Ferguson’s wake were two people he didn’t recognize.
 

The first was Derovian, a female dressed in a bright orange and red printed gown beneath her sash. Yamamoto grasped her thick hands for the meron; she smiled profusely, her almond eyes lighting up as she offered a warm greeting to Yamamoto. Yamamoto motioned to a chair to Eshel’s right. Following her was a large, formidable looking male who made the Derovian delegate appear even smaller by comparison.
 

Sunai
.

The Sunai wore an elaborate rust-colored uniform covered in a series of metallic adornments, which Eshel had learned were military decorations. He recognized the decorations of a Gronoi. The Gronoi’s very dark skin had a rough, almost scaly quality to it and his eyes were obscured by dark eyeshades. There was something feral, almost animalistic about the Sunai. Eshel disliked him immediately.
 

The Gronoi looked around until something caught his eye. Despite the eyeshades, Eshel knew the Gronoi stared at him. Eshel returned his stare.
 

The Gronoi turned his attention to Yamamoto, who raised his palm, and the Gronoi placed his large hand against Yamamoto’s before putting his hands on Yamamoto’s shoulders in what Eshel’s father had described as a gesture of friendship. Yamamoto walked over and pulled out the chair on the right side of the table, furthest away from Eshel. Eshel sensed that the XO offered the Sunai that particular seat not because he wanted the Sunai to sit there, but because the Sunai somehow required it.

Finally, once everyone was seated, Yamamoto took his place next to Ov’Raa. Captain Ferguson, after greeting each of the Alliance delegates, sat down at the other end of the table and began. “Thank you, Gronoi Sansuai, and thank you, Tallyn, for coming all this way. Toq, of Calyyt-Calloq, won’t be joining us and has informed us that we may decide on this issue without Calyyt vote. For the sake of convenience, Admiral Scott has asked me to represent Earth on this matter,” she added, briefly placing her hand on the sash. She glanced down at her electronic pad and set it aside.
 

“As you all know,” she continued, “we have granted Eshel asylum from Korvalis. He brings with him an advanced scientific knowledge that could prove beneficial to the Alliance. However, for reasons that Commander Steele can elaborate on, Eshel has been banned from discussing genetics. Today we will decide whether this ban shall remain… or be lifted with the proper regulations.” She looked over at Steele and nodded.