Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) (12 page)

“But even then,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have escaped without your help. How in the Galaxy did you get together in the first place, and then find me?”

“Well, you see,” said Qilzar, uncomfortably, “shortly after our, ahem, conversation, Xtlar came …”

“I contacted him, Gsefx,” interrupted Lhvunsa, much to Qilzar’s apparent relief. “Remember those devices you invented for the vehicles a turn ago?”

Gsefx nodded.

“Well, I got a notification that said your vehicle had gone outside the one hundred parsec perimeter we set up when you first installed them, which made me wonder what was going on. I tried contacting you but couldn’t get a response, so I called Qilzar. He explained what had happened and suggested that since I could track you with the device, we should go look for you.”

Qilzar gave Lhvunsa a surprised look, but Gsefx pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice his wife kick Qilzar gently in the shin. She was up to something, but it was on his behalf, so he wasn’t going to spoil it.

“By the time we reached Irt,” said Lhvunsa without missing a beat, “we realized you were on the surface and in trouble, and knew we had to do something. So, we did about the only thing we could do, fly low enough and fast enough to hopefully give you enough time to escape. We were going to come around for another pass but saw that you were already lifting off, so we headed out of the atmosphere.”

“It was fortunate the first primitive you ran into was a friendly one,” said Qilzar. “Otherwise, things might have turned out quite differently, my boy.”

“Yes, quite differently, I’m sure,” said Gsefx. “The worst part of it is that while I escaped, I’m afraid he didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean his fellow Irtlings took him into custody. I’m certain they’ll imprison him, or worse, and it’s all my fault. I need to go back and help him.”

“No, Gsefx!” said Lhvunsa, becoming uncharacteristically frantic. “You can’t!”

Gsefx looked at his wife with concern. He knew she was right, of course, but her sudden outburst was completely unlike her.

“Lhvunsa, are you all right?” he asked. “You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t go back to Irt.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

Lhvunsa wrapped one of her arms gently around one of his and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Even so,” said Gsefx, “I can’t help but feel responsible. I ruined Henree’s life.”

“I understand how you feel, Gsefx,” said Qilzar, quietly. “I once had a pet Clelchin when I was a boy. Clydon was his name. We were inseparable. We went everywhere together. One rotation we were out fooling around in an area outside of the city that was off limits. It was an abandoned construction site with lots of old equipment and such. I was climbing up an old staircase that had no wall on one side and was completely open to the air. On the way up, one of the steps broke through and I lost my balance. I surely would have fallen over the side, but Clydon grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me back over. In the process of saving me, though, Clydon lost his balance and went over the side himself. I’ve never forgiven myself, Gsefx, but there was nothing I could do. His blind affection cost him his life, even though it saved me in the process.”

“I’m sorry, Qilzar,” said Gsefx. “That must have been devastating.”

“It was, but I was just a child, only eleven turns. As I grew, I learned that lesser creatures sometime act on instinct, rather than intellect. There was nothing I could do. Just like there was nothing you could do for the Irtling.”

“Excuse me? Qilzar, Irtlings may be primitives, but they are hardly lesser creatures.”

“Oh, my dear boy, of course they are. Perhaps in a few thousand years, when and if they’ve evolved far enough along, they won’t be so far beneath us. But as someone who’s flown by and seen for myself, they are nothing more than wild animals. Quite dangerous ones, at that.”

“How dare you …” said Gsefx rising from his chair, his temper exploding like a stack of Plurian gas mines. Qilzar was talking about Henree, and that was crossing the line. Lhvunsa took hold of his arm, gently pulling him back into his chair. Soft green fingers rubbed his neck, calming him in a way only she was capable. At the same time, she shook her head and softly shushed the Dremin on the other side of the table.

“My darling,” she said, looking Gsefx in the eyes, “you saw for yourself what they were going to do to you. But even if, as a species, the Irtlings are not what you’d like them to be, we can all agree that we owe a debt of gratitude and friendship to Henree.” The last she directed toward Qilzar.

“Quite right,” said Qilzar, catching her look. “We owe Henree a great debt for helping save your life.”

“Yes, we do,” said Gsefx, sadly. “A debt that can’t be repaid, I’m afraid.”

“The way to repay him is to live your life the best way you know how,” said Lhvunsa, continuing to rub his neck.

“You talk as if he’s already dead. What if he’s not? What if he’s imprisoned somewhere, waiting for us to rescue him?”

“Gsefx, we are not going back, and that’s final,” said Lhvunsa, the neck rub coming to an abrupt end. “None of us are going back. Not you, not me, and not Qilzar.”

Qilzar interrupted Gsefx before he could object.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” he said, “but Henree had to know he wasn’t going to survive. Otherwise, why would he give you that stunning painting you have in your vehicle. Anyone who thought they might live would have never given up a work of that magnitude. It had to have been a treasure to him. Especially since he likely couldn’t have painted many more of its equal, probably none, would be my guess.”

“Many more of its equal?” asked Gsefx incredulously. “Qilzar, Henree had thirty more paintings in that clearing, all equally as good. Some probably better. The one in my ship happened to be my favorite and I think he saw how much I liked it, so he gave it to me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He looked at his wife.

“Either of you. Yes, I will grant you that perhaps Irtlings are not as advanced technologically, intellectually, or socially as we are, but that’s just the stage of evolution they’re in. It’s not like each of our species weren’t there at some point ourselves. The determining factor about whether a species is considered a lower form of life is not how evolved they currently are, it’s whether or not they will always stay that way. Qilzar, your pet Clydon, for example. He was a Clelchin, and Clelchins have always been Clelchins and will always be Clelchins. Regardless of what point in history you choose, they will always be the same lovable pets they have always been. Not so with the Dremin race, eh Qilzar? While your pale gray skin and sharp features have always been characteristic of your species, you haven’t always been as civilized as you are presently. No different with my Clangdorian ancestors, or Lhvunsa’s long-distant Relnarian relatives. We’re all descended, at some point, from a Primitive Cultures class case-study, but we all evolved out of it because we all have the innate ability to grow beyond ourselves. So do the Irtlings, especially Henree.”

“Be that as it may, Gsefx,” said his wife in a growl he was all too familiar with, “you, are not going back there to rescue him. None of us are.”

“Let’s not be too hasty on that subject,” said Qilzar suddenly, his eyes somewhat glassy, as if he was in deep thought. “You said Henree had thirty more paintings? Perhaps Irt might be worth a second visit after all.”

“What?” said Lhvunsa, clearly amazed at what she was hearing from her former ally. “Qilzar, have you lost your mind?”

“My dear Lhvunsa, you saw the painting in Gsefx’s vehicle for yourself, how mesmerizing it is, or was, until Gsefx hid it from us. Think how much a work of art like that is worth. Think how much thirty more of them would be worth.”

Lhvunsa stopped to consider Qilzar’s proposal for a moment.

“No, it’s not worth the risk,” she said. “We’re not doing it.”

“Not worth the risk?” asked Qilzar. “They could literally be worth millions. I’d say that’s worth the risk. Besides, with a little bit of planning, we can be in and out before anyone even knows we were there.”

“No Qilzar,” said Lhvunsa. “We just got Gsefx back safely and we barely managed that. After all we’ve been through, I’m not going to risk losing him again. I would think you’d understand that.”

Gsefx could see that his wife was on the verge of tears, but he remained silent. Something had happened between Lhvunsa and Qilzar on their way to Irt, something he needed to figure out. He looked over at Qilzar, who seemed to be taken aback by Lhvunsa’s reproach.

“Of course I understand, my dear Lhvunsa,” said Qilzar softly. “But I also understand that this would be a very simple operation. We go in, rescue Gsefx’s friend, make sure he’s safe, and in the process, we make sure the paintings are safe as well. He’ll be free and we’ll be rich. I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t see the problem?” said Lhvunsa. “The problem is that we could all get caught and killed by the Irtlings, that’s the problem, Qilzar.”

“Furthermore,” said Gsefx, jumping in to back up his wife, “even if we didn’t get caught, it’s called stealing, and I wouldn’t be a part of it in any case, but in this case I absolutely will not allow it. You’re talking about taking someone who literally saved my life and repaying him by stealing the one thing that makes him feel important, the one thing that makes him feel different from everyone else on that despicable little planet. We may not have spoken the same languages, but what little we were able to communicate, I know that Henree would rather rot away as a prisoner, or die, than have his artwork ripped away from him, especially by someone he trusted. We are not going back to steal his art and that’s final.”

“Nice speech,” said Qilzar, “but isn’t that why you went to Irt in the first place, to steal that music you like? That albalan?”

“That’s different and you know it.”

“How Gsefx?” pressed the Dremin. “How is it different?

“First off, I was going to download a copy, not the one and only version of the music. With Henree’s painting, once the original is gone, it’s gone forever. Secondly, it’s for my own personal use, I wouldn’t have sold it for a profit.”

“It’s still stealing.”

“Yes Qilzar, you are correct,” said Gsefx, raising his voice in an effort to retake the moral high ground. “It is stealing and it’s wrong. I admit that I have been wrong on many accounts during this rotation, chief among them was the idea that going to Irt and stealing music that didn’t belong to me was acceptable. I almost paid for that mistake with my life, and in the process I put your lives in danger as well. I’ll not do that again. Qilzar, you must promise me that you’ll not go back to Irt for Henree or his art, or even discuss it again. We all have to close this chapter and just go forward.”

“Gsefx, my dear boy, I will make no such promise,” said Qilzar, breaking the mood completely. “I am your direct supervisor as you know and …”

“Et Qilzar, within the confines of Galacticount, you are my supervisor. That is true. Beyond that, I also owe you a debt of gratitude for the part you played in my rescue. But in this, I will not be swayed and I insist that you swear your allegiance to me.”

“My allegiance? The mere thought is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous is it?” Gsefx was losing his temper. “Qilzar, you flew by the ground at a high rate of speed, which means you got nothing but the quickest of glances of the Irtlings and their capabilities. I was there, on the ground, with their weapons in my face. You call them dangerous, but you don’t begin to know the half of it. To be honest, I don’t begin to know the half of it, and I know a lot more than you do. To go back and attempt a rescue of Henree would be foolhardy, and even as I talked about it before, I knew it was nothing more than idle talk. But you are serious about trying to get those paintings and I can tell you that it’s impossible. If you’re lucky, they would simply kill you and be done with it. But I honestly don’t think you would be that fortunate. I believe it would be much worse than a quick and simple death. Qilzar, you must swear to me that you will not take this notion any farther.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will not return to Galacticount and Et Xtlar may do with you as he will. I believe I heard something about Zaras 7?”

At the mention of Zaras 7, Qilzar’s once brave facade melted completely, and Gsefx knew he had won.

“Gods, will I be forever cursed with that horrendous place? So be it. I promise.”

Gsefx knew better than to accept an open-ended promise from his boss.

“Promise what, exactly?”

“I promise,” sighed Qilzar, “to never ever again speak of Irt, Henree, or his artwork. There, are you satisfied.”

“That’s half of it, now let’s hear the other half.”

“Oh very well. I also promise not to go to Irt and attempt to gain control of the paintings or rescue Henree or anything else that might upset Et Gsefx.” He was in a full pout now and Lhvunsa had to duck her head to not be caught laughing.

“Thank you, Qilzar. Now, shall we go home?”

“And that concludes the formal portion of my report,” said General Alcorn. “If someone will get the lights, I’ll be happy to answer any further questions you may have.”

The General did his best to put forth a positive demeanor, but he was far from happy. Nor did his audience resemble anything close to a receptive, or even impartial group. In attendance within the secure walls of the Pentagon briefing room were several of his O-Ten colleagues, all of whom shared a mutual disdain for him, a feeling that did not go unrequited.

His direct supervisor, General Frank Allen, was there as well. Though they rarely agreed on anything, and sat on opposite sides of the philosophical fence, Allen was one of the few men at this level of the armed forces that Alcorn actually respected and trusted. The Joint Chiefs of Staff, whose only opinion of Alcorn came from what they read in his files and heard from the suck-ups who sought their favor, were also in the room. He was certain they would not be friendly to anything he had to say.