Read The Best of All Possible Worlds Online

Authors: Karen Lord

Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Space Opera, #Visionary & Metaphysical, #Literary

The Best of All Possible Worlds (10 page)

“No problem,” Fergus said. “We’re hours early. The Commissioner won’t expect us till
evening.”

I looked at him anxiously. His face was relaxed, smiling even, in fact, completely
unlike him. “I can leave now if you like,” I said, suddenly frantic.

Fergus waved a hand. “No worries. Stay a while with your family. I can run the Councillor
back to Ophir now, pick you up whenever you like. It’s only a half-hour trip.”

“An hour round trip,” I tried to remind him, a firmness to my voice that I did not
feel. I felt hemmed in and scared.

“I wouldn’t want to keep the Councillor waiting,” hinted Ioan helpfully.

Dllenahkh, who had been silent for all of this, quietly put back his hood and stared
at Ioan. “No. I don’t think so.”

Ioan literally faltered, taking a step back. Dllenahkh continued to look sternly at
him, then rested a hand on Fergus’s shoulder, an uncharacteristically tactile gesture.
“Sergeant Fergus, would you be so kind as to go start up the shuttle?”

Fergus blinked, nodded slowly, and went back inside the shuttle.

Rafi looked up at Dllenahkh with an expression of immense relief and gratitude. “I’ll
go get her stuff.”

“Thank you,” said Dllenahkh, inclining his head. His gaze followed the boy as he ran
off, then returned to fix coldly on Ioan.

Rafi soon returned, out of breath, with my bag. I took it from him and made an impossible
promise. “It’ll be all right. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He nodded, his eyes bright with tears, and ran back into the house. I gave Ioan one
glance, then retreated to the shuttle with Dllenahkh at my back.

He gave Fergus the order to lift off, then faced me with a very somber look. “I apologize.
I should have realized earlier that you needed help.”

I was breathing more easily as I looked out the window and watched the homestead getting
farther away. “It’s all right. Ioan knows he can’t get to me. I just wish I could
do something for Maria. It’s not right, the way he treats her.”

“Then you should report him,” Dllenahkh said, his tone adamant. “I understand that
there are procedures for dealing with Cygnians who have strong psi abilities and use
them inappropriately.”

“He does love her,” I mumbled. “And they might take Gracie and Rafi away from them—that
would be horrible.”

“Nevertheless,” Dllenahkh said gently, “he was prepared to force you to stay with
them. Can you overlook that?”

“He knows he can’t get to me,” I repeated sulkily. “I would have gotten out of there.
Not being ungrateful for your help or anything. I just don’t think it’s serious enough
to warrant a report.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Fergus give Dllenahkh a quick sideways glance.

“Delarua, look at me.” Dllenahkh’s voice was still gentle, but there was a hint of
steel in it.

I faced him angrily. “Don’t you ‘Delarua’ me. I told you, I can handle it!”

“Then let us be sure. Let me touch your mind, a brief touch only, to be certain that
he has not influenced you.”

A sick feeling shot through me. I stood up and stumbled to the back of the shuttle.
“Keep away from me,” I whispered, turning my head so they couldn’t see the tears starting.

“Delarua—” Dllenahkh said again, implacable.

“Don’t touch me, don’t you dare come near me—”

“Delarua!” This time it was Fergus, shouting over his shoulder from the pilot’s seat.
“This isn’t you! Can’t you see that? You have to trust the Councillor, because I am
not
setting down this shuttle until I know for a fact that you are in your right mind!”
He heaved a frustrated breath and continued. “I’ve been through training for this
kind of thing, learning to recognize when someone’s tampered with your thoughts. And
let me tell you, that man back there? He’s subtle. He’s
good
. I’ve never known a Cygnian that could do what he did just now. Don’t underestimate
him.”

I slumped to the floor. I wanted it all locked up in my mind: the dreams, my secret
longings. I thought about the shame it would bring on my family to have all this known.
I pulled my
knees up to my chest and pressed my fists into my eyes, struggling to be calm, to
breathe deeply, to think clearly.

When I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, Dllenahkh was kneeling in front of me.
His face was neutral, with no trace of judgment.

I spoke softly. “A brief touch only? You won’t look at my thoughts, my memories?”

He nodded. “A brief touch. Not an invasion, not a link. Only what you permit.”

I bowed my head. A moment later, I felt his fingertips brush my forehead and press
firmly as if setting his fingerprints there. Then they withdrew. That was all.

I looked up, relieved. “There! That’s taken care of—”

Then it came flooding back. All the times I’d silenced my own comm, the forced surge
of an old passion long laid to rest, dreams that were not of my mind’s making, and
every look of disappointment and despair that poor Rafi had given me.

“That bastard,” I choked out. “That
bastard
!”

Dllenahkh stood up and backed away gracefully. Adrenaline pushed me to my feet, and
I slammed the wall behind me with a fist. “Fergus, how much longer to Ophir?”

“Twelve minutes, ma’am,” he said. The words sounded as if they were coming through
a savage grin.

I marched back to my seat. “Make it five. I need to speak to the Commissioner as soon
as possible.”

Dllenahkh returned to his seat beside me. I looked at him steadily, still feeling
that slick veneer of shame over my thoughts but refusing to give in to it. “And Dllenahkh—thank
you.”

He only inclined his head in response, but I imagined I saw a hint of approval amid
his neutrality. I didn’t know why he was being so generous. He had gone straight into
the heart of a brewing riot with nothing but his principles to arm and shield him.
I
was finally standing up for the truth after fifteen years wasted in equivocation.

Yes, equivocation. It was still my call, still my responsibility. If there was one
thing that shook me after Ioan’s influence was wiped from my mind, it was the realization
that he never manipulated an emotion that wasn’t already present to some degree, no
matter how small.

I remembered this as I went to Qeturah. It helped keep my anger and motivation high.
I went straight to where she was sitting in the conference room, going over the last
of the inquiry notes with Joral, Nasiha, and Tarik.

She looked up at me.

“I’m here to talk to you directly.” My throat closed up, making my voice crack, but
I gritted my teeth and pushed the words past the barrier. “I have a problem, and I
need your help.”

Zero hour plus one year one month nine days

Dllenahkh stood on the main balcony of the hotel and regarded the city streets and
distant banlieues of Ophir, dreamlike in a haze of damp morning air. He breathed lightly
not merely to avoid the moisture but to keep the last of the calming air of the Montserrat
monastery deep in his lungs. It had been unusually difficult to put aside the novice
robe the night before.

Footsteps approached, but he did not turn. Eventually Dr. Daniyel stood beside him
and rested her hands lightly on the dew-damp stone of the balustrade. Recognizing
the diffidence in the gesture, he merely offered a nod of greeting and waited for
her to speak.

“Thank you for helping her,” she said quietly. “We didn’t know.”

He frowned slightly as he looked at her. “We are all of us somewhat damaged, whether
or not it may appear on our medical records.”

She took the gentle rebuke with a rueful smile. “I have withdrawn my recommendation
that you be removed from the mission team,” she informed him. “I understand now that
the circumstances were unusual, and I trust your ability to function in the future.”

He bowed his head and lowered his eyes. He did not want to seem rude, but neither
did he wish to appear grateful. He settled for staring at the landscape again.

“First Officer Delarua is insisting that she too is able to continue
in her role.” Dr. Daniyel spread her hands palms upward. “I’m not convinced, but I
don’t like to make the same mistake twice. There’s also the question of her psi profile.”

He frowned in earnest. “I have seen it. It does not match her demonstrated abilities.”

“In light of recent events, no. Cygnians have always been hard to assess. You’d expect
something with Ntshune, Sadiri, and Zhinuvian lineage, but some of the strangest things
come out of Terra—a touch of second sight here, a little miracle there. Most of them
are charlatans, it’s true, but even the simple power to persuade and be persuaded
can be a psi ability. We’re very good at fooling others … and fooling ourselves.”
She shook her head, momentarily pensive, then added, “I’d like you to keep an eye
on her not only professionally but personally.”

He let his surprise show.

“She trusts you,” Dr. Daniyel said.

He faced her fully. “Does she trust
you
?”

She let the rhetorical question pass, her gaze flickering away as if her conscience
had been touched. He would have withdrawn once more into quiet courtesy, but the small
glimpse of vulnerability made him push harder.

“Tell me, Commissioner, have you had this same conversation with Delarua? Have you
asked her to keep an eye on me? Have you told her that I trust her?”

She relaxed and laughed lightly. “Of course not, Councillor. Don’t be silly. I had
that conversation with Joral.”

He smiled in spite of himself, conceding the point.

“Councillor,” she said, gracious in victory, and walked away, leaving him to enjoy
the morning view.

BACCHANAL


W
hy me?” I
asked. “I mean, I know you’ve told me, but tell me again why this is supposed to
be a good idea?”

Tarik gave me a look that suggested that he found my nervousness absurd. “Your updated
psi profile indicates that you have developed an above-average ability to discern
and suppress imposed emotions.”

“The Board of Inquiry has recommended that we add psi-profile data to our genetic
and anthropological data,” Nasiha continued equably, waving a scanner of some sort
over the tiny sensors stuck to my various pulse points and nerve nodes and whatchamacallits.

“We require Cygnian as well as Sadiri data to calibrate our readings,” Tarik resumed.
“You are the only Cygnian with an operable level of psionic ability on the team. Therefore,
you have been assigned to us for testing purposes.”

“Thank you, Qeturah,” I muttered sarcastically. “Now, what are these for?” I waved
a hand at four injectors laid out with precision on a tray of implements.

“To inform you of their contents and effects would compromise the neutrality of the
tests,” Nasiha said in a tone that was almost soothing, which only increased my worry.

“Try to relax,” added Tarik, easing the medtable from vertical to nearly horizontal
with a swiftness that had me gripping the edges.

The two Sadiri watched the readouts for a while, looked at each other, and nodded.
Nasiha picked up the first injector and pressed it against my arm. I gulped quietly
as it hissed its contents into my bloodstream. Seconds passed.

“Well,” I said, slightly relieved, “I’m not sure what—”

Then I screamed.

After an hour spent alternately laughing, weeping, screaming, and mumbling “Whoa … cool!”
I went to Qeturah to complain. She refused to be swayed. “Psionic ability results
from a combination of nature and nurture. It can’t be measured using genetic data
alone, and it’s an intrinsic part of what it means to be Sadiri. We need this information.”

“Yes, but why
me
?” I asked plaintively. “I never scored particularly high on psi tests before. Can’t
they use some average readings from the database?”

Qeturah shrugged. “This particular method of testing has never been done before. There
is
no data.”

“Fine,” I snapped.

Only a few days had passed since Ophir, and already we were back in savanna country,
this time at a Division of Forestry and Grasslands outpost that offered a little more
comfort than a temporary camp. The aim was to prevent another Candirú fiasco through
better preparation, and that meant taking an extra week or two to refine our mission
brief before continuing to the next assignment on the schedule. Qeturah was working
feverishly on documentation with Lian’s assistance, Fergus was acquiring all kinds
of new and exciting survival equipment and regionally appropriate advice from the
rangers, Dllenahkh and Joral seemed to be spending an inordinate
amount of time in meditation, and Nasiha and Tarik were torturing me.

Then Dllenahkh turned up at the next session.

“Please tell me you’re not here to add to my misery,” I said with mock cheerfulness.

He shot a look at Nasiha and Tarik that didn’t reassure me, then sat down beside the
medtable. “You have found the experience thus far to be intolerable?”

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