The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga (6 page)

Hope’s hands went to the small swelling of her stomach, and Lariah wanted to kick
herself.  “I’m sorry, Hope,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hope said.  “I was just startled is all.”

Lariah nodded and picked up her coffee cup.  “I wish I could remember things the way
Summer does.  But, even with what we know right now it seems to me that Aisling is
asking that we back up a little and rethink the issue of the Narrasti.”

“Rethink?” Hope asked.  “Did you three already get together and discuss it?”

“No, we didn’t,” Lariah said.  “I thought it was inevitable.  The Narrasti destroyed
the Jasani home world.  Why would there not be a war?”

“So you don’t believe Summer’s theory?” Hope asked. 

“What theory?”

“That it wasn’t the Narrasti who destroyed Ugaztun,” Hope replied. 

Lariah’s eyes widened.  “Damn, I’d forgotten all about that!  The last I remember
hearing about that was when a request was sent to Sheara 3 for copies of the scroll
she spoke of.  That was nearly a year ago.”

“The guys told me about Summer’s theory, but that’s the last I heard of it too,” Hope
said.

“Aisling knows something we don’t,” Lariah said thoughtfully.  “Something that makes
her think war between the Narrasti and the Jasani would be a bad idea.  Whatever it
is she knows, she can’t tell us yet, but she wants us to keep an open mind, and remember
that it’s our job to guide Jasan onto the right paths.”  She sighed and shook her
head.  “I’m afraid we’ve failed in our duty since we didn’t even consider whether
it was a good thing or a bad thing to send war ships to Onddo.”

“Lariah,” Hope said, “I don’t want to bring up unhappy subjects, but you must remember
that things have been difficult for you this past year.”

“I know,” Lariah said.  “But I’m fine now, and it’s past time for me to catch up and
pay attention to what’s going on.  First, I’ll reread the prophecies, and I’ll get
a copy for you.  If we’re going to be faced with the task of convincing Clan Jasani
not to go to war against the Narrasti, we’re going to have our work cut out for us.” 

“Before we try to convince anyone of anything, we need to make up our own minds,”
Hope said.  “I don’t know whether I think it’s a bad idea or a good one right now.” 

“Me neither,” Lariah said.  “I think it’s important that we do what Aisling’s asked
of us, though, and give it some thought.  I think I’ll go by and see Saige for a minute
on my way home.  Would you like me to tell her about this, or do you want to do it?”

“If you don’t mind doing it, I’d appreciate it,” Hope replied.  “Here, take the letter
with you.”

“All right,” Lariah replied, slipping the letter into her pocket.  “I’ll go now. 
I don’t want to be away from the babies for too long.”

***

Michael stood at the viewing screen in the room next to the specially constructed
cell holding the Xanti, stunned by what he was seeing.  His whole purpose in visiting
Jasan was to get the unheard of opportunity to view not only the remains of a real
Xanti, but the Xanti’s bio-suit as well.  Up until the moment that the Vulpirans had
shown him images of the dead Xanti after the conference on Epsilon III, he, like most
people, had no idea what they really looked like.  Just seeing the images had been
exciting, and he’d been looking forward to seeing the real thing for months now, ever
since they’d invited him here.  Never had he dreamed to see a real,
live
Xanti with his own eyes.

Now that he was seeing one, he had to struggle to hide his revulsion, and it had nothing
to do with the Xanti’s appearance.  Michael didn’t have a problem with spiders.  Personally,
he thought they were interesting creatures.  This one, with its shiny black body and
ten legs, actually interested the scientist in him a great deal.  He was looking forward
to seeing the results of the tests that the Vulpirans had run on it.  It was the thing’s
dark and twisted intelligence, and the knowledge that its goal was to destroy or enslave
all the peoples of the Thousand Worlds, that offended him. 

He watched as the Xanti crossed its cell to a small table near the door.  It lifted
it’s front eight legs off the floor, resting its weight on its back two legs, and
picked up the small, rectangular translator with two forelegs.  It used another leg
to activate the device, and yet another to press a button.  It then made some chittering
noises which sent shivers down Michael’s back.  When it was finished, it pressed another
button and Michael heard the Xanti’s words repeated in the mechanical voice of the
translator.

“I know you’re out there, whoever you are,” it said.  “Why don’t you come on in and
we’ll sit and have a chat.”

Michael turned and raised questioning brows at Vikter Vulpiran. 

“The cell is armored against every type of transmission device or weapon, but it has
common air exchangers,” he explained.

Michael nodded as he turned back to the view screen.  “It smells me then,” he said. 
He watched the Xanti as it turned off the translator, set it back on the table and
returned to its previous place in the corner.  As he watched it, he thought about
the Vulpirans.

They’d sent a ground-car and a message earlier that morning requesting that he meet
them at the Research Center.  They’d been waiting for him on the sidewalk out front,
and while they’d seemed tense and more withdrawn than he remembered them being, they’d
been perfectly polite.  He had a feeling that there was something bothering them,
but whatever it was, he certainly didn’t know them well enough to inquire into what
might be a personal matter. 

The real question was, could
he
trust
them
with a personal matter of his own?  No, he amended, the real question was, did he
have a choice?  The answer was
no
.  Not if he intended to convince them that he’d make a good addition to their scientific
community on a permanent basis.  And he wanted that very much. 

According to Honey, the Jasani had a different view of psychic abilities than his
own people.  At least, her Aunt Berta did.  He really hoped the rest of them held
the same view.  His mind made up, he reached out and flipped off the view screen,
then turned to face the Vulpirans.

“I know that we do not know each other well,” he said.  “Even so, I believe that you
are honorable men.  Therefore, I’m going to trust you with something that, should
it become common knowledge on Terien, would ruin me.”

“We would never betray a trust, Michael,” Vikter said.  “But it is usually best to
keep sensitive information to oneself.  Perhaps you should not trust us with it.”

“In general, I agree with that philosophy wholeheartedly,” Michael replied.  “But
there are exceptions to everything, I’ve discovered.  In this instance, I find that
there are several exceptions, not the least of which being that all of the Thousand
Worlds are in danger from the Xanti.”  Michael said no more.  If the Vulpirans did
not want to hear what he had to say, that was their choice.

“We understand all too well what you mean,” Vikter said, shooting a meaningful glance
at Lance and Hunt.  “Many sacrifices must be made by all of us in this common cause. 
Be assured that we will not betray your trust.”

“I have a psychic ability,” Michael said flatly.  When the Vulpirans continued to
look at him with curiosity rather than shock, he continued.  “Psychic abilities are
frowned upon on Terien.  Even though there are many worlds where such things are common,
on Terien, a citizen who claims to have such a talent will quickly find himself discredited
and shunned.  All grants will dry up, his seat on the Terien Scientific Federation
will be withdrawn, along with his new post on Earth with the Intersystem Scientific
Counsel, and any work he does for the remainder of his life will be ignored and considered
suspect.  I’ve sacrificed a great deal for my career and wouldn’t care to see it destroyed
unless I had other options, which I do not have at this time.”

“We have many psychics here, and welcome them and their talents,” Vikter said.  “There
is much about Clan Jasani that would, under the beliefs of Terien, label Jasan suspect
as well.”

“The Terien government does not see such things as suspect for other races,” Michael
said.  “What is acceptable in a Jasani, or a Tislan, is not acceptable for a Terien.”

“We understand,” Vikter said. 

“As you are aware, I have a reputation for understanding alien races.  For the most
part I do this by the same, mundane means as other scientists use.  However, I am
also able to see into their minds.  The more
alien
, the more clearly I see.” 

“You can read their thoughts?” Lance asked in surprise.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Michael said.  “What I can do is read their psyche.  I can,
to some degree, sense their fears, their needs, their desires, their intents.”  Michael
shook his head.  “I’m afraid I’m not explaining this very well.  It’s something I
hide, so explaining it isn’t something I’ve had much practice at.”

“We do not need to fully understand what you do, Michael,” Vikter said, unable to
hide his excitement.  “We only need to know how to help you do it, and hope that you
are able to glean some information from this Xanti about his race.  We are in the
untenable position of having an enemy about whom we know next to nothing, while he
knows everything about us.  This is the very reason we invited you here.  That you
have a psychic ability is, in our view, a bonus.”

“Thank you,” Michael said with great relief. “I need to be closer to the Xanti.  I
don’t need to touch it, but I need to be in the same room with it.”

“There is reason to believe that the Xanti will try to kill you if given the chance,”
Hunt said, speaking to Michael for the first time that day.  “From our extensive examination
of the Xanti remains we have, using its stinger may or may not kill it, but it will
definitely kill you.”

“Isn’t there a way we can be face to face without providing it with the opportunity
to kill me?” Michael asked.

“There is a clear LumaTite barrier which can be raised into place, dividing the room
into two sections,” Vikter said.  “The original barrier had holes in it so that we
could attempt to communicate with the Xanti.  The Xanti was able to slip several of
its legs, and its stinger, through the holes with amazing speed and dexterity.  If
the scientists interviewing the Xanti at the time had not been Clan Jasani, they probably
wouldn’t have been able to move quickly enough to avoid the attack.  The barrier was
replaced with a solid version.  Will that work?”

“It’s worth a try,” Michael said.  “I ask you to accompany me, if you don’t mind. 
I will likely go into a sort of trance when I connect with it.  If it attacks, I won’t
be able to move out of its way, let alone protect myself.” 

“We shall watch over you most carefully,” Vikter promised.  “Do you want to do this
now?”

“No, not yet.  I would first like to speak with the man you said was working with
the Xanti, and the Damosion.  After that, I would like to examine the bio-suit, and
I should also review the test results you’ve compiled so far.  The more information
I am armed with before I approach the Xanti, the better.”

“The Damosion is out with the Falcorans checking the barrier on the far side of the
ranch,” Vikter said.  “I don’t think you’ll get much from him that will be of use
to you.  He’s been able to give us some logistical information that he picked up while
on the Xanti ship, but that’s all he knows.  From what he’s told us, his people are
a peaceful, gentle race with almost no technology.  The Xanti swoop in now and then
and grab one of them for their ability to nullify magic.  That’s about it.”

“I’ll save him for later then, and focus on the human male,” Michael said.

“Good idea,” Vikter agreed.  “The man’s name is Sergio Farnswaite.  He was invited
by Princess Lariah some months ago to decorate the new nursery that the Dracons built
for their children, but he did not show up.  Then, two months later, he arrived without
warning.  He lured Arima Berta into the wilds where the Xanti awaited them.  Its intent
was to copy Arima Berta, then kill her and take her place.  It very nearly succeeded.”

While he’d been talking, Vikter led Michael and his brothers out of the detention
wing and into the Research Center.  Since Sergio had not been an accomplice to the
Xanti’s true plans, but rather an unwitting dupe whose Mother had been held hostage
against his cooperation before being murdered, he was not kept under lock and key. 
Nor was he fully free.  He was under orders to remain on the ranch, and to reside
within the detention wing of the Research Center.  He was allowed to go outside, visit
the garrison or walk the property to a limited degree, though he was allowed nowhere
near any of the homes or guesthouses.  Vikter knew that Sergio was waiting in an interview
room since he’d requested that he make himself available should Michael wish to speak
with him. 

Vikter knocked on the door once, then turned the knob and entered to see Sergio Farnswaite,
a smallish man with oddly spiked hair and blindingly bright clothing, sitting at the
table waiting for them.  His scent indicated that he was relaxed, but at the same
time, wary.