A Tale of the Undiscovered Frontier
"Wings of Liberty"
(by Big Steve and ComradeTortoise)
The desert spread out in the dream. Stark. Unforgiving. Only the hardy natives of the planet - if they were natives - survived here, traveling from oasis to oasis as the seasons demanded.
The dreamer watched the desert's harshness recede ever so slightly. A band of blue cut through the terrain, forming river banks with soil suitable for growing food and sustaining life. The plains were marked with the farms, supported by the channels and canals drawn from the river. The villages and towns dotted these lands, the signs of settlements dating back three thousand years.
The names came easily to the dreamer. The Jeziri Plains. The Samir River. The Yildiz. Toutaine.
The dream narrowed down upon the town of al-Lahir, one of many that bordered the Samir. The great town square, festooned with ribbons of green and blue and red, the colors of the spring festivals when the locals began planting. The market baskets full of the fish drawn from the river, dates and sprigs and oranges and other treats grown from the riverbank orchards.
A raised platform held the attention of the robed and turbaned folk attending. On it, a young man and a young woman, their dark bronze skin glinting in the light, danced in flowing garbs of white and green. They were husband and wife, humble farmers, but more than that, they were blade-dancers. Sleek, curved blades, one held in each hand, swished through the air, as if the two were having a duel, but a duel with no bloodshed in mind, indeed, no blood being visible at all. Each moved in rhythm with the other, as if their minds were one. The dreamer watched the crowd cheer their skill.
The dance stopped. They stepped aside, and in their place came a child, a girl of six summers clad in the same wear, two small curved knives in hand. The child danced a simpler routine. She didn't have the experience of her parents, but she showed promise, and smiled at her parent's pleasure in her respect for their craft. The crowd rewarded her nascent skill with supportive applause.
The dreamer watched the child dance, and as she danced, the summers passed. She grew into herself, becoming a fine young woman, a flower of the Jeziri like her mother, her skill with the dancing blades increasing with each new summer added to her life. The blades grew longer, going from knives to daggers. Adulthood beckoned, and with it came the swords her parents danced with, one from each, symbols of their love.
"
All passengers, docking with Teyan Station is now complete.
Prepare to disembark."
The words, spoken in a plain English, jolted the dreamer from the dream. She opened her eyes and glanced about. To either side of her the seats of the liner were emptying. With the repeat of the announcement understanding shined through the fog of sleep still settled on her senses. She stood, collected her bags from overhead, and joined the departure line.
In the line she sensed the quiet impatience of the passengers. Many had business to attend to, or were meant to embark on other vessels to reach an ultimate destination. They all wished to be done with the process of boarding the station. She sympathized, as she had her own pressing business to see to.
The line moved forward, bit by bit, and soon she came face to face with the station security officer. The woman was a Dorei, of the N2S7 universe, one of the founding species and peoples of the United Alliance of Systems. Her skin was a light blue, the color of a garden world's sky, with purple spots running in a pattern down both sides of her face. Dark teal hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. Her uniform was emerald green with purple trim. "Welcome to Teyan Station, miss," she said in a melodic accent, accepting the holographic display passport. "Nisa Tari?"
"Yes," the dreamer answered.
"You're from S0T5? Solaris? Not every day we get a Solarian."
"I have dwelled there for several years, but it is not my homeworld," she corrected. As she spoke she noted the curiosity in the Dorei woman's mind. Her garb was not regular for many Humans present, it was true. She wore a long-sleeved blouse of dark blue color with a barnous of emerald green clasped at her neck. A green headscarf also covered the top of her head, holding her dark hair down. Sensing the thought forming in the alien's mind, she said, "I am a Yildiz of Toutaine. This is how my people dress."
The Dorei woman nodded. "I understand." She tapped something on her controls. "Your scan is clear. Again, welcome to Teyan Station, your checked baggage is being cleared just ahead."
"Thank you. May the All-Highest be with you."
"May the Deity be with you as well," the woman answered, understanding Nisa's context. She gestured Nisa through the checkpoint and into the arrival terminal.
The other passengers from the liner were still dispersing. A few were heading laterally toward other terminals, others were walking towards the core of the station. After collecting the checked baggage she'd been required to stow away on the liner, Nisa followed them and entered one of the four "spokes" that linked the torus to the cylindrical core of the station.
This section of the station wasn't just a pathway, it was a market, a three level high assortment of shops, eateries, and other establishments catering to the station's visitors and residents. Nisa milled through the collection of beings, marveling at the assortment of species from across the Multiverse. She considered how blessed she was to be seeing such sights while her mind buzzed with all of the surface thoughts of those around her.
The sights and thoughts and smells of the bustling market made her think of home, with a tinge of melancholy. There were times she missed al-Lahir deeply.
"Hey!"
The call was repeated before she realized the caller was speaking to her. He was Human, a tan-skinned man in a dark blue jacket and pale gray shirt with matching cargo trousers. His dark brown eyes settled on her face, a final confirmation she was the target of his irritation. As he took the final steps toward her she felt his psionic gift, just as he had to be feeling hers.
She didn't have a chance to speak or even project a query into his mind. "I thought I made it clear when we made port," he said. "Everyone's gotta go to the pitch session. It's part of the deal, and they've been holding it up."
"'Pitch session'? 'Deal'?"
He rolled his eyes. "You speak English, and I was projecting it to everyone anyway, so don't play dumb. Whatever you think of the Corps, they're letting us go peacefully as long as we sit and let them make their pitch. I'm sure you don't care about it, and you don't have to. Let them have their word and walk out, that's all you have to do. You don't even have to stay for the Q&A."
His irritation was palpable, and not entirely limited to Nisa. It only fed her own bewilderment. "The Corps? You mean the Psi Corps?"
Now he got sarcastic. "Yes, what other 'Corps' is there to talk about. Of course I mean the Psi Corps, and…" He stopped. Nisa felt him at the periphery of her mind, picking up her thoughts and loose memories she wasn't bothering to shield. "...and I'm making an ass out of myself, aren't I?" He sighed. "You aren't from around here, and you didn't come in on the
Hycantha."
"No, I was on the
Starlark," Nisa replied, feeling the growing embarrassment of the man. "I am Nisa Tari of Toutaine."
"Oscar Mendoza. I'm a conductor on the Underground Railroad." He smiled with bemusement. "Well, not so underground these days. We're more of an open secret now. And I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to the idea of Human telepaths who
aren't from my universe."
Nisa nodded. "I understand. It has taken me time to adjust to the existence of the Multiverse as well."
"Everyone takes some time," Oscar remarked. "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you. I thought you were a straggler, we get them sometimes. They don't want to give the Corps the time of day. Can't blame 'em, but a deal's a deal, and the Corps is being remarkably good sports about it."
"What are you speaking of? What is this deal?"
Instead of answering verbally, Oscar communicated by telepathic glyph. The raw information was easily digested by Nisa's mind, informing her of what he meant. The Corps allowed "blips", as they were called, to emigrate to the rest of the Multiverse, even if it was a violation of Earth law and against the Corps' creed of telepath unity and family. In exchange, the runaways agreed to give the Corps one last chance to convince them to join and come back.
Why would they do so?
Because EarthGov made a secret deal with the Allied Systems, turning their main trade route from Earth through Teyan into a no-inspection zone for runaways, Oscar replied with a passive thought.
EarthGov doesn't allow any inspections of ships heading here anymore, at least not for us, and on paper that means the Corps can't either. But there are other parties out there that would take advantage. This deal limits their ability to do that.
You are uncomfortable about this?
Oscar nodded. His expression became pensive. When he replied, he spoke aloud. "Don't know if I trust the Corps over time. Maybe right now, they don't have a choice. But when they get the opening they need, well, now they know our ships. They have to for this arrangement to work."
Nisa sensed the suspicion in his thoughts and being. Given her own purpose for being here, she needed to know more. "And you believe they would come after you?"
"If they don't see it as threatening telepaths? Sure. They think we should all be wearing the brass pin and the gloves." Oscar scowled. "They treat people like me as if we're misbehaving children because we dare to say 'no' to them. Like our independence ends where Psi Corps and its needs begin." As they walked along he checked his omnitool. "Now I have to go listen to them make their pitch again."
"Again?"
"One of my duties as the Railroad's conductor here on Teyan. I observe to make sure the local Psi Corps Education telepath is behaving. An outside telepath, usually a Gersallian or Betazoid, sits with us to be a neutral observer."
"I understand." Given her purpose, and her curiosity at the state of Human psions in this universe, Nisa was quick to follow up by asking, "May I attend?"
She felt Oscar's confusion, but it faded as he sensed her reasoning. "I'm sure there'll be no objections. Not sure why you're interested in the Corps, though. You S0T5ers don't have to put up with them."
"We do not," Nisa agreed. Old memories surfaced in her thoughts, unpleasant ones. "But we have our own problems."
"Not surprised." Oscar shook his head. "Telepathy freaks out normals. They can't help it. It's scary stuff, the idea of people going through your head, messing with your memories and your thoughts, or programming you with mental blocks and commands. We have to face it too, so we get it from both ends."
"I am familiar with such difficulties," Nisa said, following Oscar toward the far end of the market.
He nodded and turned back. His eyes moved toward her waist and the silver objects hanging from her hips, each having a slight curve toward one end below a visible grip. She felt his surprise. "Wait, those…"
She felt the complete sentence in his mind.
Those are lightsabers! She nodded. "I was told your universe was unfamiliar with these weapons. They even let me carry them on the
Starlark."
"We don't have anything like them, but we've seen them," he answered. "You're not Order of Swenya, are you?"
"I am not, but I am familiar with them," she answered. "A
swevyra'se of the Order visited the Enclave on Solaris and conversed with many of us on the teachings and Code of Swenya. I greatly enjoyed his visit, and as I am familiar with wielding blades, he was kind enough to show me how to construct these weapons."
"Good to hear." Oscar smiled. "Not sure how the Corps will take it. They don't always get along with the Order. But I'm not here to make their lives comfortable." He checked his omnitool. "We'd better keep going, the presentation's going to start soon."
Nisa nodded and followed him toward the core of Teyan Station.
*****
The station's core included both habitation sections and social areas. A gymnasium, a library sector, even schools. The station rented out meeting rooms and the like for similar purposes, everything from social gatherings to religious meetings to clubs.
Oscar led Nisa to one such room. The digital display beside the door read "Telepath Education: The Myths vs. The Facts", with an insignia for something called the Jenny Winters Foundation attached. Oscar snorted openly and Nisa felt his skepticism before he forced it away. He touched the key and opened the door.
Inside were about seventy people in various kinds of garb. They were of various creeds and nations, although Nisa was still unfamiliar with many of those from the Earths of various universes. Their attention was diverted around the room with hushed conversations and the slight hum on her senses of passive psionic links between some of them. She quietly took a rear seat and set down her traveling bags while Oscar went toward the front of the room. He took a seat across from a figure that looked Human, at least until Nisa noticed his eyes were too dark-colored to match baseline Human. He wore what looked like a turquoise top with dark brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail.
Between them, beside a holographic projector, was a person; person was the only word that applied because their gender was not determined readily by outward appearance. They had shoulder length brown hair and green eyes that were both kind and had the kind of depth to them that came when someone had seen far too much. They smiled readily enough when everyone sat down and it was perfectly genuine, introducing themselves in a Slavic accent that belied the name.
“Hello everyone, glad you could make it. I’m Julian van der Berg, a telepath with the Jenny Winters Foundation” and they glyphed
‘For legal reasons’ as something of a wry joke. “We have a lot to get through and we’ll split things into two sections. The first is the unfortunate death by holopoint that you’re all familiar with. I’ve tried to make it at least interesting. The second is optional and more of a question and answer session. Feel free to avail yourselves of the coffee, tea, and scones.”
Nisa, from her place at the rear of the room, noted the mixed responses of those present. Many did accept the offered refreshments, although some only rose to do so when Oscar and the alien man across from him joined in. She sensed Oscar's mental sigh at the need for the gesture.
More than that, she sensed the slight tension between Oscar and Julian. There was a familiarity between them that eased it, but did not eliminate it. The alien man, meanwhile, seemed to exude patience toward the matter, with perhaps a little exasperation.
“I’m sure you’ve all noticed Jaman Yunan.” Julian gestured toward the Betazoid. “He’s here to make sure I don’t do anything fishy. I have no intention of doing that, but in the interests of full disclosure I’m a P8 and capable of it. You all have different degrees of contact with the Psi Corps, and what’s unique here is that for the first time, I’ll be free to give you our real perspective. For instance…” Julian switched from their introductory slide to one that had nothing but the words ‘The Earth Alliance and It’s Laws Really Suck’. “Inside Earth Alliance space, I am not permitted to say things like that. I am not permitted to openly criticize the Crawford-Tokash Act, or call sleepers the abomination that they are, I’d have to stick to the boiler-plate talking points that the Ministry of Information pre-approves. But we’re here now and it’s possible to have that sort of discussion.’
Given her own knowledge of the state of things in E5B1 was still thin on various details, Nisa found the presentation educational, and more to the point, important. The reason she'd come to this universe would involve the Corps directly, after all, and she needed to understand what they said about themselves and what their beliefs were.
All the same, it was clear there were many who weren't so interested in listening to Julian as she was. The telepaths nearest to Nisa openly ignored everything, and at times she sensed the skepticism and disbelief of others in the crowd.
Nevertheless she found the presentation illuminating. The Corps' reputation in S0T5 was not entirely positive in Solarian space, although it tended to vary across the breadth of the known galaxy. Seeing that the reputation was colored by the kind of laws they were publicly forced to support and never question was useful to her. Julian was honest in how they presented the questionable actions of the Corps, accepting the justice behind some of the reputation, but explaining why such things happened and why they were committed to reform to eliminate these things. Reform necessary to save all telepaths, Corps and non-Corps, from continued abuses.
The plight of telepaths reminded her of what psions endured in many places in her own home universe as well, particularly in the terrible conditions of the Fracture.
While facts and figures did come up - the extent of the pogroms in the prior century, the ongoing limitation of telepath population from non-telepath parents having abortions instead of bearing children with the marker genes, the hate crime statistics and the rates of acquittals - Julian was clearly understanding of the need to present something more than dry statistics. Their argument was restrained passion, as they were clearly eager to persuade, but she didn't sense the kind of preachiness that could come from such passions. Given Oscar's earlier remarks about the Corps treating dissenters like "misguided children", it was clear Julian took such views to heart and was trying to avoid them.
While Nisa didn't interact with them directly, not mentally, through her other gifts she sensed there was an inner sadness to them. Sadness, and some irritation, with the knowledge that their words were falling on deaf ears in a number of cases. They hid it well, at least, and Nisa felt the spark of hope that they were getting through to those who would listen to their words, who were willing to hear the message whatever their prior beliefs.
She also noted Oscar's feelings. While his mind was also shielded, if alert to psionic activity from the others, the feelings within his being were a combination of grudging admiration for Julian's determination and skill and frustration at sitting through this all over again. Whatever Julian said, he distrusted the Corps' intentions in the long term. There was an old wound there, one she couldn't see the extent of, but which clearly left Oscar unwilling to trust.
Yunan's thoughts were open in a way Nisa was surprised by. She sensed that it was a cultural thing. His people, amongst other telepaths, considered it natural to share their feelings and thoughts to any who wanted to sense them. It was a sort of natural honesty. There was distaste at being reminded of how the Human telepaths of this universe were treated, and, Nisa thought, a little uncertainty at where things were going for the Corps.
“So, I suppose that wraps up the presentation itself and I’d like to open myself up to questions. Mr. Yunan, I’ll drop my defenses so you can do truth detection, as per usual.”
The Betazoid man nodded. <So you have>.
Even as he projected that answer, Nisa watched as twenty-one of the attendees stood up. Many left with the air of people who'd just put an unwelcome chore behind them. A couple were not quite so unkind, but were clearly unpersuaded and not caring to inquire further. The entire group shuffled out of the room without a further remark.
For a brief moment, a frustrated little sigh came from Julian's lips, and their face betrayed pain. With their blocks down Nisa could feel the thoughts in their minds, a combination of frustration at what they felt to be sheer pig-headedness by some of the "blips", and more cutting, a sense of failure at having failed to get through it.
The first question came mere seconds after the door closed. The man spoke with an accent that Nisa sensed Julian considered "Anglo-Caribbean". "So, you're going to challenge EarthGov on this stuff? You're going to end the sleepers?"
“Yes, though please don’t blab that to EarthGov… granted I’m committing sedition just for being here.”
Another voice spoke up, this one a woman with an accent Nisa thought was near-Solarian. "What about after? If you win, I mean? What if some telepaths don't want to be in the Corps?"
“Then we’ll be a nation state with regularized emigration and immigration policies. You could for instance renounce citizenship if you wanted, or hold dual citizenship within the Systems Alliance or something depending on their laws. No more coercion.”
Nisa felt the surprise of those attending. For some it became skepticism. It was something too good to be true.
<They are truthful>, Yunan projected to the group.
It did little to shift the skeptics. One mind openly projected <That just means he thinks they'll do it, not that they will.> Julian gave that one a side-eye for intentionally misgendering them.
Other questions came, related to what the Corps was going to do, and Julian's answers were consistent on the matter.
“If it makes you feel better, you could consider it pragmatism. Our population isn’t exactly huge, which means we need external support, and that means sapient rights like freedom to emigrate. Even if we were not committed to that ideologically. Which we are.”
Nisa felt an intense emotion surge within the crowd. One man stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Julian. "You think you can just say something like that, play the 'honesty' game, and we'll just forget what the Corps has done! You think I'll forget what those damn camps did to my folks?! Well, you've got another thing coming, Corps man! You've got another damn thing coming! I saw those camps, I saw them in my parents' memories as they cried at night, they're seared into my mind! The Corps was a part of it, and they don't get to play victim now!" With that said the man stormed from the room, pain and rage oozing from his being such that Nisa whispered a prayer that the All-Highest ease his soul.
It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. It wouldn’t be the last. And what everyone in the room could feel from Julian was that they honestly understood it. “The Corps is victim and perpetrator both, without the freedom to say no. We don’t want to be either, and are prepared to force the issue. You can believe me or not, that’s your call.”
The outburst, and Julian's reasoned response, left the remaining attendees quiet. For a moment it seemed no more questions would come, but a woman off to the side spoke up with another accent similar to Julian's. "The Corps has said many terrible things about the Free Colony. EarthGov makes it do so, you say, so what does the Corps really believe about the Colony? If you win, will you still be against it, or will you look to make normal relations with it?"
Nisa sensed the mental sigh from Oscar. He'd heard this question and the answer before, and now he'd be treated to it again.
“The Corps still considers those on the Free Colony to be our family, if estranged for understandable reasons. I have it on good authority from the powers that be that our stance would be to establish normal relations, even close ties if possible. Though that might, as you can imagine, take some time.” Julian paused “And do keep in mind, I just committed several crimes that would get me executed, so don’t go talking about that where EarthGov can hear you.”
There were nods in reply. Nisa waited patiently to see if there would be further questions, but none seemed to be coming.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll end it there and let you get to your interim quarters and outbound connections if that’s what you want. But if you want to stay, if you want to help us end the oppression of eighteen million of your fellow telepaths and have a hand in shaping what is to come, we’d be overjoyed to have you. Come talk to me, and we’ll get that set up.” Julian braced for disappointment, behind their newly reconstructed blocks.
In the seconds after Julian finished speaking, there was a quiet uncertainty in the air. Nisa sensed their anticipation at whether or not they'd convinced many, if any, of those present to sign up.
Someone in attendance stood. Others joined them, and soon a number more. They went for the door, minds made up, although not all were as hostile to Julian as they had been at the start. When the door slid to a close for the final time, twenty-four people were still in their chairs, not counting Nisa herself. Exactly half of those left after the prior departures.
Julian beamed at them. “Welcome to the Revolution. Come on up, I’ll get you the codes you’ll need, and our military Transport schedules.”
Those remaining lined up. A few had some jitters, but not enough to dissuade. Nisa felt their unified conviction that they could do
something about the situation back home.
At his table, Oscar glanced toward Nisa. <Better than their average>, he p'cast at her. <Although I've seen them get over half of the crowd before.>
<You do not resent that these people are making this choice? Even though your people flew them out here to get away from the Corps?> Nisa cast back.
<No. This is about choice, it's always been about choice. I think they'll get disappointed, personally, but at least I gave them a choice.> Oscar's satisfaction was clear on that. <And maybe I'm a pessimist and the Corps' revolution really will be a good thing in the end. If so, good for them. EarthGov really does need a swift kick in the pants, and if this all ends with an Allied Systems armada pulling a Sheridan and blasting its way to Earth to support a Corps uprising, I'll be watching on IUNS with a tub of popcorn.>
Nisa wondered if that would come about. Her own reason for coming here to see the Corps had a connection to the Alliance, so she knew there was some cooperation there. But would it come to that?
As she considered these things, Julian handled the line of volunteers. When the last volunteer was settled, she stood and approached. "Hello," she said, using a convention that she'd observed as common across Solaris and elsewhere. "I am Nisa Tari."
“Julian van den Berg. A pleasure, though… “ Julian glanced down at the lightsabers dangling from her belt. “Your weapons mean it’s unlikely you’re here to join up. What can I do for you?” <Never thought I’d go from social worker to military recruiter, but here I am!>
"You are familiar with lightsabers?" she asked.
“They’re known to our leadership. They’ve had some dealings with members of the Order of Swenya, and my brief was very thorough.” <And I know what to do when the red ones show up.>
Nisa blinked at the reference. It was Julian's surface thoughts that told her what he meant. "Corrupted ones," she said. "I see what you mean, yes." She took the nearby seat. "As for your question, I am here to see about passage to one of your colonies. The Tau Atrea colony."
A flash of understanding illuminated Julian’s surface thoughts. “Excellent! I got a message that someone of your...combination of talents might come by seeking passage, though I am curious as to why, if you don’t mind my asking?”
"It is quite alright," Nisa said. "I've come to offer my services in training a child of your Corps, Husn Mira, with her talents in the Divine Gift."
“I think I can infer what that means, and if so it’s rather important she be trained properly. We have a transport ship leaving in two days carrying people back into our space. Tau Atrea is one of its stops.”
Nisa nodded. "I will wait for it, then."
“Come with me, I’ll make sure you have a place to stay.” Julian motioned for Nisa to follow them. “We have guest quarters in our little enclave.”
"I thank you," Nisa said, taking the time to collect her bags before following them.
*****
The Corps' enclave on the station amounted to a section of one of the habitat decks, rented out to the Jenny Winters Foundation on paper. This gave the enclave several suites more than their contingent required and access to a multi-purpose room they used for communal meals and enclave meetings.
Julian left Nisa in one of the quarters, a cozy studio apartment a little larger than the room Nisa occupied while staying at the Enclave on Solaris. It was furnished to general Dorei tastes, with colors of earthy browns and yellows on the furniture and walls. A wall replicator unit was on one end while the other had a holovid projector. The bed was cream white, its shape rounded with a pile of orange pillows. Off to one corner beside the bed was the sliding door to a bathroom with a water shower.
There was little point in unpacking her things since she would be gone within a few days. Nisa removed only the clothes she would be wearing until departure, setting them up in the empty closet. While made on Solaris, they were made to her specifications, proper Yildiz clothing with colored headscarves, blouses, vests, and pants. She looked at her two
jilbabs and decided to keep them stowed.
Her next pack was the one she was most concerned with. She set the case, a manufactured plastic shell case, down on a table and opened it. Inside, nestled in Solarian synthsilk, were her twin
shamsir: her dancing swords. Made of el-Yasuj steel, they were prize works from her homeworld made by an expert blacksmith. The curved blades had the head of a falcon on their pommels.
Memories, both good and bad, filled her at their sight. She reached into the case and pulled the swords out. They were each about a meter in length, not counting their hilts, although their reach was reduced by the curve toward the ends. She brought her arms up and felt her muscle memory move her into the first form of one of her favorite dances, the Dust Devil. She started to twirl around her room, slicing the blades through the air as if in the center of a whirlwind, her feet and body shifting as if to meet the moves of an invisible partner.
She started shifting into another beginning pose when the chime at the door went off. She stopped and straightened, turning toward the door. "Yes?"
The door opened and Julian stood just at the threshold. “We’re having dinner shortly if you’d like to join us. We have replicators in the rooms, sure, but tend to take meals communally.”
It took Nisa only a moment to nod. "I will be honored. There may be some of your foods I must reject, should they be
haram and not
kosyer. I hope you understand?"
“Of course.” Julian replied “We would never dream of taking offense, we have enough religions represented among our number that you shouldn’d lack for options.” Julian wouldn’t presume what her requirements were, but they openly suspected, given the words used, that they would be similar to those of Muslims and Jews, and they always accommodated both.
"I shall get ready then." Nisa smiled and nodded. She didn't move to put her swords away yet, however, as it would be rude to turn her back on a guest at her door.
“I’ll get out of your hair so you can stow those, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…”
She shook her head. "I was merely practicing my dancing forms. I had to forgo practice on the trip here. The liners would not let me carry the swords in my compartment."
“I see.” Julian nodded. “Well, we don’t disarm telepaths here so feel free when you get the chance. Though… dancing?” Julian was officially intrigued.
"My people value sword-dancing as a form of art," Nisa explained. "My parents performed as sword-dancers when the seasons allowed and taught me the styles." She couldn't keep her sadness from leaking past her passive blocks. "I can't see them anymore, but by maintaining the art, I remain linked to them."
Julian gaver her an empathetic look. They too could never see their parents again, though Julian suspected the reasons were very different and their outlook on it was likewise very different. “I can certainly understand that, and with a motivation to practice like that… it must be stunning to see. I’ll let you get back to it, we should be ready for dinner in about thirty minutes.”
"I will be ready," she answered, and with that response, Julian departed.
*****
The multi-purpose room was large enough to seat several dozen people, reminding Nisa very much of the hall at the temple in al-Lahir. Throughout her life she'd attended many feasts and dinners there, wedding dinners and holy feast days and funerals.
Here, though, the sun of Toutaine was not present, nor the cooled air of the wind coming off the Samir River. The atmosphere was more of the same breathing gases pumped throughout the station. The foods laid out on the table were not the dishes she remembered growing up, although a few had some similarities to them. The balance of various food groups was precise, that was clear.
When she arrived it was just a minute or two before the meal was to begin. Some of the assembled were seated, others were standing. Julian was with a woman with black hair with a few wisps of gray, olive skin, and kind eyes that Nisa could tell concealed an inner ferocity; and two others clad in a similar suit. Nisa approached them and, as they visually noticed her, glyphed an introductory greeting with her name, her hometown of al-Lahir, and that she was a Yildiz of Toutaine. The older woman obviously in the lead of the suit-wearers glyphed back that she was Erika Flores from the Corps’ legal division, and that her associates were Jamal and Jiaying Chen. They also wore matching wedding bands, and he’d evidently taken her last name.
"May the All-Highest bless your union," Nisa said to the Chens aloud. "I am aware of Julian's purpose here, but why are…" She struggled for the word she meant to use, one she'd only been exposed to briefly on Solaris and elsewhere. "...lawyers, yes? Why are lawyers here?"
“Thank you!” Jiaying replied, clearly their marriage was not strictly arranged because Jamal leaned over and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Sometimes someone leaves Earth Alliance space with children. Sometimes they're children with a parent still in the Corps, sometimes someone else’s kids. We’re here to litigate custody disputes.”
Nisa sensed their unease with the issue and resentment of those they considered kidnappers. "I see. Truly a difficult issue, and I understand why your presence is necessary."
“It really is…” Erika interjected, and glyphed a mental image of her beating her head into her desk.
Nisa stifled a giggle at the comical image.
At that point attention was brought to the tables by an older gentleman of South-Asian extraction, and everyone took the nearest seat. Nisa's seat placed her between Julian and Jiaying, with Jamal beside his wife. The rest of the round table included Erika and two others. The first was a stocky man with strawberry blonde hair and a red-tinted but closed cropped beard who looked like he’d seen his share of fights, the other somehow managed to look like a bird of prey despite not actually resembling them physically. In fact, he was otherwise nondescript except for the tanned skin. Both of them introduced themselves with little name tags gyphed over their heads. Alastair Wallace from security division, and Markus Roaratonga, which for some reason seemed to Nisa like it was at least partially a nom de guerre. He did specify he was in Metapol though.
Plates were provided and passed around so everyone could get a little of what they wanted. With barriers mostly down Nisa picked up the names of various foods. Most were permissible to her religiously and she took her share of them all, favoring somewhat those that looked or smelled like they came from home.
The benefit of all attendees being telepaths was that no one needed to speak to impart information. The man who called them to the tables glyphed a general message to those present to give or recite whatever blessings they chose. Nisa lowered her voice and recited the dinner prayer in her native language. "
All-Highest God, I honor You and the bounty You have provided for my body's nourishment, as Your teachings nourish my soul. May Your blessings flow as the river to those that worked the fields and nurtured the animals of this bounty. A-men."
Erika for her part crossed herself and thanked God for the food, she was Catholic but somewhat lax about it. The one who called dinner to order, whose name was Saqib, bowed his head and muttered his own prayer in Arabic. “
Bismillahi wa 'ala baraka-tillah”. The rest were polite, but otherwise silent.
The time passed. For the first few minutes conversation ceased as everyone enjoyed their food and drink. Nisa spent the time quietly pondering the prayer of Saqib, which sounded very much like he was trying to speak Toutaini words in some way, although she couldn't be sure. A couple even sounded like he was saying a name of God. She knew a little of the Multiverse, enough to know that the languages of old still existed elsewhere, in universes where Mankind's homeworld was not lost and forgotten.
This may explain why they have so many dishes that are kosyer, she pondered.
When conversation started up again, it was telepathic - allowing for all to continue eating - and it was Saqib who initiated it. <So, Erika, how was your day? I caught that mental image earlier, is it going that well?> There was mirth there, but also tension. He was worried about it but trying to project calm.
Erika groaned audibly, which said everything. <It’s a mess. A horrible thrice-cursed mess. The father is in Transport division and his now-ex-wife left the Corps with their three kids out from under him during deployment. So it’s basically the perfect case to test whether or not the Alliance respects our culture and child-raising practices or considers them
prima facia inferior. Which is going to determine a lot moving forward, as you might imagine.> Nisa got the impression that Erika meant that with a certainty that implied she’d be the one doing the determining. Saqib and everyone else at the table winced. Marcus for his part was trying to conceal being simply
incensed and failing.
<Hate the Corps or no… Christ doing that during a deployment is shitty. ‘I know you’re off fighting to end our oppression but fuck you and everything you stand for. I’ve taken the kids.’>
<Yeah well, there’s nothing for it…> Julian replied. <Some people are just that damned selfish. It’s not like we can
legally or politically extract the kids…as much as I might want to.>
While chewing softly Nisa's curiosity led to her sensing more of the case. She didn't understand everything, but she did pick up the fact that the mother in the case was herself ordered to a year-long job as a Commercial telepath, one that was going to place her hours of spaceflight away from her children, and that this played a significant role in her actions.
Given her thoughts were unshielded, the others at the table soon turned eyes on her, recognizing that Nisa picked up those facts without them being mentioned in the conversation. <I did not mean to pry>, she p'cast. <My Gift, my connection to the All-Highest, grants me such insights.>
<It’s alright> Erika replied. <I am aware of those abilities, and it isn’t as if it’s that private, if it was we wouldn’t be discussing it. Plus you’re not wrong. It is still selfish though, we rotate those positions so people don’t get stuck in them forever, and she lost the lottery. Everyone here has some kind of family they don’t get to see while they’re here. Hell, Julian simply
cannot go home. She’d be able to do it monthly.>
<I understand, and thank you for understanding>, Nisa answered. <If I may ask, if both parents are gone, who cares for the children? Grandparents? The brothers and sisters of their parents?>
<In a sense.> Julian said. <We do the lion’s share of raising children communally. Kind of like a boarding school but with more a family approach. Biological parents are involved and important when they can be but that’s not always possible and children need stability as much as they need love.>
<My people raise orphans much the same way.> Nisa recalled the orphanage of al-Lahir, where she'd spend some of her youth helping the caretakers and teachers tend to their charges in accordance to her peoples' teachings of providing service to the most vulnerable. <Family members help tend for children, but it is the responsibility of the whole community to see to their care and education.>
<Exactly. In a way, Earth Alliance law makes us all legal orphans, if not orphans in fact. We’ve adapted our culture accordingly.> Saqib nodded sagely.
<Even if some of us want to take the mundanes to task for it in a big way…> From Markus.
<Hey now!> Alastair interjected, even his thoughts had an Irish accent. <None o’ that. It’ll be all we can do to keep them from killin’ us all. Don’t aim the sights too wide.>
Nisa considered what that meant.
They're preparing for a revolution, she'd been told, remembering her communication with Lucilla Lucero.
So they're very careful. She p'cast, openly, <You are worried the Alliance will rule against you based on how you raise children, then?>
<It’s always a concern, especially when things get political. There are two types of Gersallians I've met. The first group act like we'd all be better off if we acted like Gersallians, although most don't actually say so. The other group recognizes other cultures and ways of thinking exist and try to reconcile everything that way. I'm just lucky Drentiya is one of the second group. But it’s a difficult decision legally, and even the best people have biases…> Erika was thinking about Solomon, and how she’d split the proverbial baby.
<What would Suleiman have to do with splitting babies?> Nisa's brow furrowed. <Why would any wise king want to do that to an infant?>
<We have a story of him being asked to arbitrate between two women who both claimed to be a child’s mother. He offered to split the baby as a means of determining who the real mother was.> Saqib explained. <It is common to three major religions on our Earth.>
<I see.> Nisa nodded in understanding. <We have stories of Suleiman as well, a great king of Paradise blessed by God with wisdom.> She glanced to Erika. <This Gersallian woman, I sense you think well of her, but fear she may be swayed against you this time?>
<Yes to both questions. When the law isn’t clear, when the situation is messy, people tend to revert to the patterns of thought that are comfortable and easy. The default of having children raised by their mother is a powerful one. It wouldn’t be that big a deal if it didn’t set legal precedent. But you know, if you don’t mind my asking, your religion shares some similarities with many of ours, clearly. Mind explaining the basic premise?>
Nisa nodded. <Of course.> She settled her mind. <My people are the Yildiz, one of many to populate the planet Toutaine. We came to our world over three thousand years ago after the Fall, what others of my universe call the Reignfall. The people of Toutaine share a religious belief in All-Highest God, although our ways are different from those of the Amir and the other tribes of Toutaine.>
Sensing their attention, and the most obvious question, Nisa started with the basic fact. <The Yildiz worship God, the All-Highest, the Creator of Three Names.>
<Three names?>
<God has many names. He is the Creator, the Just, the Merciful. Highest of all are the Three Names of God: Allah, representing the Power of God; Yahwey, the Laws of God; and Isya, the Love of God.> Nisa recited each to its full meaning as if it were a religious requirement, which they could all sense was true.
Julian piped up with an audible “Aha!” before switching to telepathy. <Many of our own religious divisions are along those same lines. Differing emphasis and theological arrangements around each one.> Academic understanding, but Saqib and Erika gave them a look. Julian wasn’t wrong, but was an atheist. <Of course, our universe’s religions are still grappling with the concept of the multiverse. Jews are fine with it, they just shrug and figure God put Jews everywhere. Evangelical Protestants, well it might as well be medieval Catholic discussions of mythical dog-men.>
<I have not been home since before the Multiverse opened, but Rabyi Muammar will likely have an explanation, if he knows.> Nisa shook her head. <It is possible he does not. Toutaine does not have much contact with the wider galaxy, and much of that contact is…> She stopped the p'cast, but with her mind relatively open the others could easily get the images she had. Of the men, women, and children of families who displeased the Amir, or who crossed their lords, being chained and carted onto spaceships.
The collective and uniform response to that was that there was potentially - if the people there wanted it - somewhere else that was due for a coup. But they didn’t actually voice that it was just coursing through their minds with variations on detail. They were, afterall, actively involved in one active revolution. It was their way. Saqib though thought to ask the one question that could clear up the question that Julian had intrinsically asked.
<The Amir protects my people from others who disapprove of our beliefs. But I learned of the cruelty of his ways when I left Toutaine, and it was because of him that I fled.>
<I see…> It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there would be demands placed on telepaths or anyone really with an absolute ruler like that, and compromises would need to be made to secure survival in the face of religious persecution. Saqib wasn’t going to press on the matter. <On… a slightly happier topic, if you’ll indulge my curiosity, what of the origin of the population? Most of our legends about that, > Because even the most devout accepted evolution by natural selection <have Earth as the origin of human life. Hence the theological issues.>
For a moment Nisa considered her answer. Since leaving Toutaine she'd learned much of the galaxy and its history. She knew that her world was settled toward the end of the Reignfall, as it was called, most likely by people fleeing that event. Aside from some Solarians who talked about Humans coming from a planet called Earth, most people didn't recall the world of Humanity's birth, at least not until the Multiverse opened and dozens of Earths became known.
But she could tell the context was not just historical truth, but religious. They wanted to know about what her people
believed as their origins.
<Long ago, there was the Fall,> she began, chewing on what tasted like a piece of mutton as she did. <Before the Fall, there was Paradise, God's gift to Mankind. Under the great kings, Mankind prospered in the limitless bounty the All-Highest granted them.>
<But Shaitan, Father of Lies and Lord of Death, despised Mankind for having God's love. Shaitan sent minions to destroy Paradise, creatures of madness and rage that could take the shape of Man and hide among us, even become us. To aid His creations, God breathed power into some to resist. For many, he gave sight of mind, the ability to see into other minds and to know the truth. They could see the minions of Shaitan for what they were, and drive them out. Others were Touched with divine power, the Divine Gift, to aid those with sight of mind. A few truly blessed even hold both in their souls, such as myself.>
<For many centuries, these gifts kept the dark ones at bay. But Shaitan is cunning and cruel. He turned some of those with the gifts against justice and mercy, until all of Paradise was corrupted by their tyranny.>
<God's wrath was great. Mankind was no longer worthy of the Paradise He granted us. So He took it away, along with those who remained true, and cast out the wicked and corrupt into the Abyss with Shaitan. For those who were left, those who were not true but not corrupted, He took the memories of Paradise until we prove worthy, and sent us into the galaxy to new worlds that would purify us of Shaitan's touch.>
<Toutaine was the lot of my ancestors. The deserts are harsh, but waters flow and make life possible. We can grow food and prosper, so long as we only consume that which is
kosyer and deny ourselves that which is
haram, that is, touched by Shaitan. It is where our souls are tried and made worthy, until the day we are worthy of Paradise.>
<Well it seems to me as if that settles the question from a religious perspective then. If everyone is from elsewhere, the exact origin point becomes irrelevant. Of course there are people in different universes. Nothing says there can’t be.> Julian actually really liked that.
<I consider it a miracle to see so many forms of life>, Nisa replied. <As for Earth, I know that many believe it was the Paradise my people believe we were thrown from. That may indeed be true. But whether or not it is, it doesn't change what I believe, or what my people believe.> She concentrated for a moment on a dish before her, a blend of tomato sauce and what she knew to be called pasta with a layer of white cheese on it.
<So, how did it come to you to train young Ms. Mira?> A question from Erika.
<I was approached at the Enclave by a respected member there, Kasszas S'srishin, who told me of a need to train a child in the Divine Gift, and that he sensed I was the most capable among those at the Enclave. He put me in touch with Lucilla Lucero from the Alliance.> The name won some recognition from the people present. Nisa glyphed what she knew of Lucero, particularly that she was the creator, or re-inventor at least, of the lightsabers being spread across the metaphysical practitioners of the Multiverse. <It was she who told me more about this girl of your Corps, Husn Mira, and her concerns about her training. After speaking with her about Husn, and Husn's beliefs, I agreed to come and see if she was willing to be trained by me.>
<Ah. That makes sense. I took the liberty of looking her up - we keep records of all our members - she’s young, but a devout muslim.>
<I have heard she was devoted.> Nisa nodded. <I may be better able to relate to her than other teachers would.>
<I suspect that Kasszas S’srishin thought similarly…> Erika scrunched up her face, there were things she was concealing but it was as if gears were turning in her head, she was being careful how she put something. <We’re institutionally secular, there are issues involved with her abilities that we’re not equipped for and, well… Gersallian philosophy probably isn’t a good fit either.>
<I certainly don’t envy her.> Jamal added. <Being first. Imagine being in the first generation of telepaths to manifest. Having to figure out everything on their own. At least Husn isn’t having to dodge death squads…> The way he trailed off, there was a ‘yet’ in there that remained unspoken.
<There are dangers to those with the Gift. It can be used for ill as well as for good, exposing the soul to the influence of the Abyss and Shaitan.> Nisa had a few memories of facing such corrupted, and the common denominator in her experience was having no guidance in their use of the gift, or even worse, being led astray by others. <Once a soul is corrupted by Shaitan, it is rare to successfully cleanse one.> She didn't hide her hope that she could convince Husn to accept at least some training.
<I can’t speak to that directly other than the fact that her teachers say good things. When it comes to training children, there are a few types. She seems to be in the subset who thinks that it’s only smart to pay attention to those who’ve been in a similar position before. I might worry if we tried to cludge together a training regimen.> Julian shrugged, unworried.
<Whatever her choice, I look forward to meeting her.>
*****
Across the station, nobody noticed the uniformed man entering the docking area's ventilation access carrying a box. If someone had, they wouldn't have minded, as the Human was clad in a station personnel uniform, and had a station ID, and both were perfectly legitimate. They were issued to someone who didn't exist, but they were legitimate.
The man in question was good at this sort of thing. He mostly worked in enabling heists and other such infiltration-related crimes, but money was money, and his current employers were paying him well for a relatively minor job.
That job consisted of two things: accessing the ventilation center for the station's docking torus and planting a box there. They provided the fake ID and uniform, even, indicating they either had connections to the station's operating staff, or some of the best hackers he'd ever heard of.
The first part of his job was complete. For the second, he opened up the access port for the central shaft and inserted the box inside. He promptly closed it. With this work done, he left the room. At a leisurely pace he returned to his rented quarters in the core to change, left behind the uniform and ID, and took passage on an Allied Systems-chartered liner heading for the M4P2 universe. His part in the job was done.
As such, he wasn't there to watch the box shift in shape until it was more of a cylinder, giving it the right shape to navigate Teyan Station's life support systems. To avoid security sensors, it generated a low anti-grav field, just powerful enough to keep it half a centimeter from the surface of the ducts.
It started to move quietly, to a destination that even its program did not yet know.