Chapter 7
Questions
Kelen lost all track of time. There was no way to tell how many days they were aboard the warship. The Seneecian who brought her the packet of water and food didn’t appear to come on a regular basis. Or he could have been. It was difficult to know, since she spent a lot of her time sleeping. When she was awake, to try and fend off boredom she did exercises, working specifically to get her leg and hand back up to par. Otherwise her thoughts centered on Kyber and the rest of her crewmembers. Wondering how they were holding up. More importantly, how he was handling the problem of having declared the Terrans his allies.
Kyber.
It was impossible to put words together to explain how she was feeling since he left. Since he said they were to be no more. Part of her wanted to scream and beat on the walls to vent her frustration. But more than anything, she wanted to run into his arms and demand he make love to her. She needed him emotionally and physically. She needed the way he mentally challenged her. She thrived in his presence, and felt bereft without him.
Sometimes she berated herself for her weakness, until she was finally forced to admit all her anger and heartache was because of her love for him. And the realization surprised her. She knew she’d fallen in love with the big black Seneecian, but she’d never experienced this depth of commitment to another being until now.
It was sad to discover that all her loves in the past, those whom she’d had affairs with, and whom she’d thought she’d found the ultimate love of a lifetime, were nothing but pale reflections compared to how much she cared for Kyber. He was life-altering and eternal. He was as important to her as the air she breathed and the blood that flowed through her veins.
He was, and always would be, her other soul.
And she had to get him…if he would let her.
“Just because I love him that much doesn’t mean he feels the same way,” she argued with herself.
Then why did he Confirm himself to you? Isn’t that type of commitment considered sacred among Seneecians?
He’d told her it was. And later, when he’d announced them as Confirmed to his fellow Seneecians, they’d been flabbergasted to learn of what they’d done.
“So why is he so willing to call an end to us—”
It was like getting slammed in the face.
To protect you.
She sat up and pressed her back to the wall. “He did it to protect me. To save me.”
She knew virtually nothing about the intricacies of Seneecian protocols. But considering how deep the hatred between Terrans and Seneecians ran, it made perfect sense. He was willing to end their relationship if that was the only way to save her life.
“Oh, Kyber…Kyber…my love.”
Rolling herself into a little ball, she gave in and allowed herself to shed a few tears, until a lassitude overtook her. She was about to doze off when her cell door opened, and a different Seneecian warrior appeared in the entrance. He was not the one who’d been bringing her food. In addition, this one brandished a weapon.
“Come.”
Wiping her face, she got to her feet without question. It didn’t matter where he was taking her, or why. It was an opportunity to get out of that cell.
She heard him sniffing. Giving him a side glance, she saw him trying to keep a stoic face. Silently, she laughed. Considering how long she’d been forced to wear the same uniform, unable to bathe or wash her hair… She reached behind her head to touch the braid. Her hair was so dirty and oily, plaiting it was the only way she could stand to wear it.
The warrior ushered her into a large room where several Seneecians were seated around an oval table, one of whom was D’har Duruk. He pointed to the single empty chair that was just inside the doorway.
“Sit.”
She dropped into the chair. Her guard exited the room, but she made a bet with herself that the man remained out in the corridor, ready to escort her back to her cell when they were done. She also noted that she was alone. None of her fellow shipmates, or any of the Seneecians who’d been on the planet with her, were present. It made her wonder who and how many had sat in this chair ahead of her.
A vid wall rose from the center of the table, running from one end to the other. The screen flickered, and three Seneecian faces appeared. The men surrounding the table rose to their feet and bowed their heads.
“Be seated,” one Seneecian seated at the table ordered. As soon as the others resumed their chairs, he spoke again. “D’har Duruk, you may continue.”
A bright spotlight highlighted her. Fortunately, it didn’t shine directly into her eyes.
“Give us your name.”
Not sure if she should stand or remain seated, she opted for more formal decorum and got to her feet to respond, forcing herself to retain a stoic face.
“Lieutenant Kelen Chambliss, former pilot of the Terran military space craft, Manta.”
“Tell us your version of how your ship came to crash on the neverwylde planet.”
Kelen stared at them for a moment in stunned silence. “Pardon me. On the what?”
“On the neverwylde planet,” Duruk repeated.
“Pardon me, D’har, but we thought the planet was called Ganj.”
“That may be,” Duruk stated. “The term ‘neverwylde’ is what we call that form of spacial phenomena.”
Kelen stared at them wide-eyed. “What kind of phenomena, if I am allowed to ask?”
“Any planet that has undergone any sort of cataclysmic catastrophe, yet is somehow able to continue to sustain life.”
“Our scientists have been trying to study such worlds for decades,” commented one of the other Seneecians seated at the table.
Kelen latched onto that bit of information. More importantly, on the undisguised interest the Seneecians displayed regarding it. By golly, Dox had been right all along. It wasn’t so much the name of the planet, but what type it was.
“We are waiting for your statement,” Duruk reminded her.
Taking a Parade Rest stance, she assumed as diplomatic a face as she could muster. “We were ordered to patrol the Bav Tor Orris sector of the Plamof Nebula.”
“You do know that sector is under Seneecian rule, do you not?” another man at the table remarked.
She nodded. “It’s where Seneecian, Bav Torian, and Corrividite space intersects. We sometimes refer to it as the Plamofian Triangle.” She paused, waiting to see if anyone had anything to add to her comment. When no one did, she continued.
“We entered Bav Torian space. At that time we observed a Seneecian warship trespassing, in clear violation of the Plamofian Treaty. We attempted to make contact with the warship, but we received no response. We tried a second time, and that’s when the warship fired on us and took off for Seneecian space.”
“How far into the Bav Torian sector were you when you encountered the ship?” a fourth Seneecian queried.
“Less than two parsecs.”
“What happened after the Seneecian warship supposedly fired on you?” Duruk asked.
“We followed the ship to make certain it re-entered Seneecian space. It continued to fire on us. It was then that Captain Arvey ordered us to fire back. We continued to chase it, when we encountered what we now believe was a wormhole. It appeared without warning, taking the Seneecian warship into it. I tried to steer our ship out of its pull, but was unsuccessful. We were swallowed into it, where, eventually, we crashed on the planet at the other end.”
She noticed that none of the three faces in the holo view made any remarks, although they tended to display questioning expressions, or the occasional frown.
“We are interested in learning more about this supposed alliance between Terrans and Seneecians. Who proposed the truce?” the first man brought up. Kelen mentally dubbed him as Tiger, due to his dark bronze and brown striped pelt. How do I address these men? Are they all D’hars? She chose to play it safe and use a generic form of respect.
“I did, sir.”
By the surprise on their faces, that was not the answer they were expecting or had anticipated.
“Go on,” Tiger ordered.
“We encountered each other in one of the temples on the planet’s surface. We were on the verge of attacking each other when I brought up the point that we all were survivors on this world. And if any of us expected to survive long enough to be rescued, we’d need to rely on each other.” She felt the tug of a smile on her lips. “While I was arguing that point, we were attacked by a large group of indigenous creatures, which we managed to fight off. It was then both sides decided on a temporary truce and to ally ourselves with each other until which time we were able to leave the planet and resume our regular lives.”
There were some murmurs exchanged, after which the second Seneecian, whom Kelen secretly dubbed Spot, spoke up.
“Do you have specific knowledge of how Por D’har Kyber Nau Kil was able to wrest his promotion from D’har Plat audo Reen?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Tell us about that.”
“D’har Plat, along with a few of his crewmen, met up with us. Plat insisted on negating the truce between species. Kyber refused. Their argument escalated to the point where Kyber was forced to fight him as per the rules of Tooth and Nail.”
“And D’har Kyber won,” Tiger noted.
“He did.”
“It is D’har Plat’s claim that Kyber drew a weapon on him, which violated the rules,” the third Seneecian she’d thought of as Mr. Chocolate brought up.
“It was Plat who took the rifle away from one of our men and pointed it at Kyber because he was being bested. He tried to fire the weapon, but the gun failed, and Kyber was able to divest him of it. Because of Plat’s actions, we were forced to place him in restraints and keep him under constant guard.” There was a whole lot more to the story than she was letting on, but she was given the impression these men liked the answers brief and to the point, without the elaboration.
Mr. Chocolate sat up in his seat and cleared his throat. “We were also informed by D’har Plat that you would lie about the incident.”
“No doubt you were,” Kelen responded with a touch of sarcasm.
“I have a question for the prisoner,” a fifth Seneecian with yellowish fur said. Kelen named him Buttercup. Turning in his chair to face her, he took a few seconds to glare at her. “D’har Duruk informs us that D’har Kyber claims he has taken you as his Confirmed.”
“That is true.”
“You admit that you are D’har Kyber’s Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
This announcement didn’t sit well with any of the Seneecians. In fact, a few looked repulsed by the idea. It was Tiger who asked for clarification.
“Explain to us how D’har Kyber did that.”
She didn’t try to hide her puzzlement. “How he did what? Are you asking for specific details regarding the Commitment, the Cleansing, and the Confirmation?”
Mentioning all three steps of the ceremony seemed to verify their worst fears. Spot almost spluttered.
“Yes,” Tiger answered. “We want the details.”
Squaring her shoulders, Kelen gave them her best stern look. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that. That is personal, between just me and Kyber.”
Their shocked expressions told her all she needed to know. She’d flatly refused an order. She, a lowly skint, a species hardly worth being allowed to live, dared to tell them no.
Kelen knew she’d made a grievous error. She just didn’t know how bad a mistake she’d made.
Not then. Not yet.