Chapter 24
ARDRUC
With a gasp, Elena went to her knees in the grass, her wide eyes fixed on the words glowing on the surface of the first tile.
I put my lat’sar in its case, closed the lid, and joined my mate to watch the green tendril of plasma move slowly from tile to tile inscribing its answers to the questions the linguistics system had devised.
Only the first tile had completed its translation so far. Seven words glowed on its surface above the swirling inscription left by the tendril.
I am Ka. We are the Vorsa.
Elena’s hand found mine. She was shaking. “The Vorsa,” she whispered, her expression a blend of elation, awe, and disbelief.
I went to one knee beside my mate and squeezed her hand.
Beneath her excitement about our communication with the Vorsa, her worry sizzled on my skin.
I wanted so much to coo and wrap her in my arms and let her inhale my scent and calming pheromones, but she had asked me not to alter her emotions.
I must always respect her wishes even when it made my hearts ache to let her suffer.
How did other Fortusians who had found their true mates withstand the constant desire and need to protect and treasure them? I had no one to ask—no close friends and no family. No one who could offer me wisdom and counsel. I had never felt as much on an island as I did at this moment.
Perhaps it would get easier with time. I would learn. After all, I had once known little about upper-atmospheric electrical discharges and now I was an authority on the subject. What better focus of study and learning could I have than Elena and our bond?
I caressed her hand with my thumb. When her lips turned up at the corners, I found I could breathe a little easier.
I wanted Ka’s answers to all the linguistic system’s questions, but most of all I wanted it to explain the tattoo on Elena’s chest. Elena had put the tiles in the sequence the computer had recommended, meaning the tile bearing the tattoo’s shape and my request for a translation and explanation was at the end.
It felt like an eternity before Ka reached that final, all-important tile. The linguistics system was still working to translate all the other tiles except the first one.
Ka hovered over the final tile for a very long time without responding. Was it unable to understand the question? Reluctant to reply? Struggling with how to answer? With whether to answer honestly?
My uneasiness and impatience gave way to rising anger. My wings shivered and smoke curled from my nostrils.
“Ardruc,” Elena murmured, her hand tightening around mine. I squeezed back and focused on her scent until my anger and frustration eased.
Finally, Ka extended a thread and inscribed something on the tile before drifting back to hover motionless and crackling in the middle of the roof.
The tile’s lights blinked, and blinked, and blinked…and then went solid blue.
We rose and moved to see the words glowing on the tile’s surface under the question regarding the meaning of the symbol on her chest: Elena is caretaker-listener.
A second set of translated words appeared: Mark given too soon by young one. We apologize for injuries to Elena.
The blinking lights on a few of the other tiles turned solid as more answers appeared, but my gaze remained fixed on the words Elena is caretaker-listener. What did that mean?
My wristcomm trilled with a notification that the linguistics system was ready to attempt live translation, with the caveat to keep my questions simple and try to use as many words already shown on the tiles as possible.
With shaking hands and a grunt of effort, I took two larger tiles from the crate and laid them side-by-side on the grass between Ka and us.
“Why did the young one give the mark to Elena?” I asked.
The lights on tile on the left blinked rapidly, then four lines of text appeared.
The linguistic system presented my question written four ways: in Alliance Standard, in symbols that looked like the original writing of the Vorsa, and in two known logographic languages.
The other tile blinked, awaiting a reply.
Ka swayed back and forth, then extended a thread to the blank tile. It inscribed a lengthy series of symbols, then retreated.
The tile’s lights blinked for a long time.
Rather than wait at my side, Elena walked past the other tiles, reading the translated responses.
Perhaps I would be better served to do the same rather than stand and stare impatiently, but I stayed.
I wanted the tendril to know how much this answer meant to me—how much Elena meant to me.
In fact, I could think of no reason not to make it abundantly clear.
“I love Elena,” I said, and watched my words appear on the left tile in three languages while the linguistic system attempted to translate them into the Vorsa’s language. “She is my mate. I treasure and honor her above all else.”
The right tile first displayed its translation of Ka’s earlier response.
The Vorsa feel fear and anger, it read. Vorsa World requires caretaker-listener and protector. The Vorsa believe Elena is caretaker-listener and protector. Young one acted before elder Vorsa contacted Elena. The Vorsa apologize.
Elena returned to my side to take my hand and read the translation. Her emotions, like mine, seemed almost incomprehensibly tangled, but most of all she appeared hopeful. Because we might be about to finally get answers?
“Why are the Vorsa afraid and angry?” Elena asked. Her words appeared below mine on the left tile, now in only Alliance Standard and the Vorsa language.
I wanted more explanation of the mark and its significance, as well as clarification about caretaker-listener. Elena seemed more concerned about the Vorsa. I supposed one explanation might lead to the other, but Elena was my first concern.
The right tile’s surface cleared for Ka to respond. Again, it wrote a lengthy reply that took the computer a full two minutes to translate.
When the translation finally appeared, Elena stiffened.
We honor Ardruc for his love and devotion. And below that:
Not-Vorsa steal from Vorsa World . The Not-Vorsa cut deeply and remove parts of Vorsa World . Vorsa World suffers. Elena and Ardruc must protect Vorsa World .
“Someone is stealing from Hyderia?” Elena demanded, then winced. “I’m sorry, Ka. Hyderia is not what you call your world—that’s what the Nyvorans named it. Our computer doesn’t yet understand what you call your world. We can call it Vorsa World for now.”
“Are the Not-Vorsa removing resources from this world?” I asked Ka, then wondered if the term resources translated. “They are taking parts of this world to use themselves?”
Ka wrote on the tile. A translation appeared within a few seconds. The linguistics system was getting faster.
The Not-Vorsa take parts of Vorsa World away. The Not-Vorsa take without permission.
Trembling, Elena squeezed my hand. “Somewhere on this planet, someone is stealing resources. But who is doing it? Who are the ‘Not-Vorsa’? And how does the Ministry not know so they can put a stop to it?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again.
Where the thought came from, I was not sure. Many ruthless profiteers preyed on both Alliance and non-Alliance worlds, stealing resources, people, and anything else of value. And yet…
And yet, I had a gut feeling what the answer was.
My stomach filled with foreboding. “Elena, why does Nyvor only have one research station operating now when all six used to be occupied?”
As if her knees had given out, she dropped onto the lid of a closed crate and stared up at me, her expression a mirror of my own anger and disbelief. “No. They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.”
I did not want to believe it either. I had worked under the auspices of the Ministry for more than two years and considered Minister Ganna a like-minded colleague who valued this planet and its wonders as much as I.
But the odds of outsiders being able to elude Nyvor’s detection well enough to conduct ongoing thefts of resources seemed slim, if not impossible.
With dread in my gut, I tapped on my wristcomm and activated its small holographic projector.
The projector showed an image of Nyvor and this planet, Nyvor itself, a series of different Nyvoran interplanetary vessels, and finally an image of Minister Ganna and several other members of the Ministry of Natural Sciences.
“Ka, does this look like the not-Vorsa who are stealing parts of your world?” I asked.
Ka and the other Vorsa erupted in blindingly bright light and searing heat.
I picked Elena up and leapt into the sky, moving so fast I barely registered what I had done until we had risen far out of range of the Vorsa’s enraged reactions.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, cupping Elena’s face so I could look into her eyes. I inhaled deeply to catch any hint of burned hair or flesh.
“No, I’m all right.” Elena wrenched in my arms to turn and look over her shoulder. She exhaled in relief when she saw Forux had jumped down to the lower roof and was unharmed.
Below us, the Vorsa vibrated, crackled, and pulsed with light and heat that rolled through the air in nearly visible waves.
The forest thrummed, the trees swayed, and bursts of korae spread across the sky.
Even the wind turned hot, as if the cool autumn morning had suddenly become a summer afternoon on the desert world of Solan.
It was not just the Vorsa who were enraged by the plundering of their planet—the entire world raged too.
Elena gasped and rubbed her fist against the tattoo. It shimmered along with the pulsing of the threads around us. “So much anger and hurt,” she said, looking up at me. “How dare the Nyvorans do this?”
My entire body went from blazing hot with fury to ice-cold. Each of her beautiful blue irises had a bright blue-green ring the same color as her tattoo.
“Elena,” I rasped. “Your eyes are glowing.”