The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) Page 6

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

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

  Eshel pushed his cup toward Zander.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Go Doctor F!” Zander called out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Sunai.

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

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

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

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

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

  “The issues are many,” Steele said. “As previously discussed, the Korvali do not permit sharing of their scientific methods or innovations with outsiders. To allow Eshel to freely share his knowledge brings up many concerns. First, Eshel, being the only of his kind among us, is vulnerable to scientists or genetic engineers who may exploit him for his knowledge. Second, Eshel’s knowledge, in the wrong hands, has the potential for detriment.” Steele reiterated the events surrounding the Nystrom incident and added a few more points concerning the relationship with, and potential retaliation from, the Korvali.

  “Eshel,” Ferguson said, finally addressing him. “Do you have anything to add, anything you’d like to say before we cast our votes?”

  “Yes. Captain,” he added, recalling that now, of all times, he must be sure to use the formal addresses with everyone. “I request that I be allowed to work in my area of expertise, as a geneticist. My most recent work, which is mine alone, and which allowed me to survive escape while my shipmates perished, may be of great use to the Alliance peoples, particularly for the survival of their militaries during warfare, or for those who must survive during droughts or other times of want. Exploitation or theft will be no
concern—my work, like all our work, is stored and coded so that no outsider could decipher it without training.”

  “If Korvali work is stored so carefully,” Commander Steele said, “how do you explain the Nystrom incident and the deaths of ninety-two people?”

  “It is impossible for such a therapy to have come from Korvali sources, Commander,” Eshel replied. “We would not waste valuable resources on a genetic patent that increased stature. We place no value on stature. Even if created, no thief could decode it.”

  “Perhaps it was created and used as barter, to trade for valuables,” Sansuai Gronoi said in a thick accent, his voice deep and guttural.

  “Impossible,” Eshel said. “There is no item of greater value to a Korvali than our scientific discoveries, Gronoi Sansuai.”

  Some of the others nodded in understanding.

  Ferguson spoke again. “Are you saying that, if approved to work in your chosen profession, you will share this… treatment… with us, but not share how you created it?”

  “That is correct. Such a decision will greatly minimize the risk of angering my people and will guarantee the information remains safe. However, I hope to share some of my methods in the future, after conditions on Korvalis change, at which time I would choose an appropriate collaborator.”

  “Change?” Yamamoto asked. “Change how?”

  “The power of the assembly must be restored according to our Doctrine, requiring removal of the current leadership. When this happens, much will change.”

  The others glanced at one another.

  “You believe it’s this Elisan,” Ferguson said, “and the monarchy, who are responsible for the relationship we have with the Korvali, for their non-participation in the Alliance.”

  “It is not my belief, Captain. It is the truth.”

  Ferguson raised her eyebrows at him. “But you also said that no Korvali would share their methods with outsiders.”

  “That is also true. However, those who oppose the current leadership and respect Doctrine recognize the value of limited sharing, Captain.”

  Tallyn spoke up. “Are you saying, Eshel, that with different leadership, the Korvali will share some of their technology and join our Alliance?”

  “Yes, Tallyn.”

  He saw the Derovian official’s smile grow large and sensed a change in the others. I have convinced them.

  “Do you have any other comments, Eshel?” Ferguson asked him.

  “No, Captain.”

  Ferguson turned to Sansuai. “Gronoi Sansuai, what is your opinion?”

  The Gronoi sat with his back straight, his chin high, and his arms resting on those of the chair. “This is a difficult dilemma, Captain. The Sunai value scientific exploration; one must only view our excellent scientific program to see this! We see many benefits of such knowledge. The Korvali leadership will be angry at such a decision… yet, it is their policies that created this problem! I vote that your refugee exploit his knowledge and take his position as scientist.”

  “Tallyn?” Ferguson said.

  Tallyn smiled as she brought her clasped, six-digit hands closer to herself. “It is with much respect that I acknowledge my brother planet’s point of view,” she began, glancing at Gronoi Sansuai. “Such knowledge would be quite valuable to so many.” She paused, a faint blue coloring her briefly. “However, I feel great concern that sharing Eshel’s knowledge will cause the Korvali much anger, and harm the relationship we have built with them. It is, perhaps, too soon? Therefore, I vote we postpone until we negotiate agreement with the Korvali.”

  Everyone looked to Ferguson, whose vote would serve as tiebreaker. She sat back in her chair, tapping her index finger on the table. “The Space Corps was created to defend our people beyond the limits of our atmosphere. It was also created to foster scientific discovery and develop relations with those from beyond our world. This very mission is both scientific and diplomatic in nature. I believe Eshel should be able to share his knowledge however he chooses.” She paused. “However, at this time, I believe the costs of allowing him to work as a scientist outweigh the benefits. Peace, and Eshel’s safety, come first, and keeping his knowledge tucked away greatly reduces risk of Korvali retaliation. Until the Korvali agree, I vote no.”

  Eshel, frustrated, resisted the urge to speak his true thoughts. He glanced at the delegates, then looked back at the Captain. “Until the change in leadership occurs, they will never agree, Captain. Nor will this decision placate them.”

  “Then so be it,” she replied, her blue eyes looking back at him. “Choosing to leave Korvalis means giving up the life you had there, Eshel. You may still speak with Commander Steele about genetics, as before.” She stood up. “This topic is closed. You are dismissed, Eshel.”

  Eshel looked away from her. And without a word, he left.

  Catherine finished turning off the automatic light sensors in her laboratory. The lab would remain dark except for one small light in her office, and no passersby would notice that someone was inside unless they purposely looked in the window. Such a possibility was unlikely, as Research was in a quiet area of the ship and typically deserted at that late hour.

  She fired up her viewer. “File, epigenetic engineering techniques two,” she said. The file’s contents appeared. She glanced around, somewhat paranoid that Steele would awaken and discover her late night forays in the lab. Meeting Eshel had sparked a series of new ideas and she had to explore them, one way or the other. While undertaking nothing nearly as ambitious as what Eshel had done, she’d begun examining the epigenomic data she had at her disposal. Such research required no bench work and could be accomplished from her quarters, except for one problem: the data belonged to the Space Corps, which she could only access from her lab.

  Suddenly, Catherine heard something. The door. Feeling trapped as she heard footsteps approach her tiny office, Catherine felt herself get into a defensive posture.

  It was Eshel.

  Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I am… sorry,” Eshel said. His apology sounded odd, as if he were as unaccustomed to offering apology as he was to using utensils. “My duty shift just ended. Tom said you work here late at night.”

  “What happened today?”

  His expression grew cold. “My arguments did not succeed.”

  She sighed. Shit. She sat for several moments, until something occurred to her. But before she could speak, she realized the laboratory lights had come on. Her heart began to pound as she waited to see who would emerge through her doorway this time.

  It was Steele, his gaunt face looking right at her.

  November 18th

  Hi Dad,

  Happy Thanksgiving. I know it’s still a week away, but we’re in and out of satellite range and I don’t know when this will get to you. Are you going to Aunt Cora’s this year? I hope so. I hate the idea of you spending the holidays alone in the mountains. Whatever you do, eat some turkey for me. Something went wrong with one of the meat freezers, so all the turkey spoiled, leaving us with a vegetarian Thanksgiving. Tom and Snow are not happy.

  Work isn’t good. I am quite sure that Commander Steele hates me. He assigns me projects that a graduate student could do; and now, after finding me working on a side project late at night, he’s forbidden me to work on any projects he doesn’t assign. I can’t even enter my own lab after hours without setting off an alert! What’s worse is that Eshel happened to be there with me when Steele showed up. It took multiple meetings with the brass and Technology searching our personal messages to convince them that Eshel and I aren’t defying the Alliance and threatening the galaxy with our genetic plots.

  This isn’t what I signed up for, Dad. This is supposed to be a scientific mission, too. Commander Edelstein and I talked about the projects we’d do. I know he’s struggling with his health and there was only Steele to replace him at the last minute, but Steele sees no reason to live up to Edelstein’s promises. What’s worse is
that Eshel, the one person whose knowledge might help me make the breakthrough I’ve sought for so long, still can’t discuss genetics at all with anyone but Steele. How’s that for irony?

  Maybe I’m just irritable. Nearly five months of being ship-bound is getting to me, and I think it’s getting to the rest of the crew, too. People seem testier than usual.

  According to Tom’s sources, the Korvali haven’t reacted to one of their people living with us. Some of the brass seemed pretty concerned about it. I did some digging and found out that the Korvali made quite a stink when Ashan escaped years ago, and it was only his disappearance that quelled the rising conflict. Some believe the Korvali found him and killed him; others say his disappearance was staged, that he’s alive and well and only hiding to prevent conflict.

  Eshel has decided to stay with us and—you won’t believe this—he’s now a midshipman, training to become an officer! Apparently he works extremely hard and easily passed all the entrance exams. From what Tom said, his promotion is provisional, at least until Headquarters feels secure he’s not some Korvali spy. To be honest, I’m surprised they approved his request at all, considering the anti-Korvali sentiment that’s still prevalent around here. Tom must have had something to do with that. He gets a kick out of Eshel and seems to have taken him under his wing.

  A lot of people still keep their distance from Eshel. He still won’t tolerate anyone touching him, even if the contact is accidental. And he’s not much for socializing; even Tom’s powers of persuasion aren’t enough to drag him away from his studies. He recently asked me about the meaning of “Mutant.” Apparently he overheard a couple people mutter the term when they didn’t realize he was nearby. When I explained, he seemed more curious than offended.