For One Nen Read online

  “Can’t really blame him. Can you?” Rasta thought wildly, toward no one in particular. She gave a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow, as she lifted her body off the floor and repositioned herself against a pillar, at the edge of the space the class occupied.

  Most of the class snapped their heads in her direction.

  “I did it again, didn’t I?” she said with embarrassment. She pushed a stray brown dreadlock from her dark eyes.

  “Tam nis, Teltel,” Tanik repeated then scolded Rasta also, “Y ke ke. Shay.” Tanik waited.

  “My heart to you, Mathis,” Rasta pushed her apology toward Mathis without moving her lips.

  “And, Rasta, we only use words in our class,” Tanik said evenly.

  “Yes Tanik,” Rasta gave a verbal response as well as tipping her chin down, as a sign of respect. When she dropped her chin her dark brown dreads fell across her face.

  “Not like she’s a real Antip,” Teltel clearly said with snarling sarcasm. He remained with his teeth clinched and his back to the entire class.

  “Teltel!” Tanik persisted. “Rasta is a real Antip. Even you can hear the thoughts she sends. And look at her high forehead.”

  “But she’s so short. She’s actually a Nen,” Teltel persisted with his squeaky changing voice.

  “Inside most everyone, flows the blood of more than one tribe,” Tanik reminded them as she almost flowed about the room and gazed down her nose at the entire class.

  “Not me,” Teltel snapped. “I am Het – strong and proud.” He slapped his chest with his open hand.

  “But you know that even the people of Earth have taken mates from the tribes of Reen. You could even have their Denizen blood flowing through your veins.”

  “No!” Teltel said with a curl of his lip as he looked to Molly, the young Denizen sitting closest to Mathis.

  Dark-haired Molly lifted her chin as if ready to defend her human ancestry but instead, turned her face to the gentle breeze from Mathis’ fan and closed her eyes, taking in the refreshment.

  Teltel’s towering wide frame rose in one swift motion and turned to eye Mathis.

  “My heart, never to Mathis, only my fist,” Teltel spilled his anger and showed his massive hands tightening. Everyone could see he was a Het of the ancient giants because his hands and feet were largely disproportionate to the rest of his still growing body. However, no one knew of his distressing secret, that there were two tiny nubs hidden in the short, stiff whiskers on his chin.

  Not even his best friend, Benai, the tall gangly Neph knew of his inner turmoil. Teltel said his piece and stormed off down the hall, past the large dining hall, in the direction of the elevator.

  The fan hit the floor as Mathis froze with embarrassment at the harsh but familiar ridicule from his classmate.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Benai said to Mathis with a compassion that most others in the room failed to personify. “His cool head will come again,” he looked to Mathis, “and he’ll once again extend his heart to you.”

  Mathis bit his lower lip, sank to the floor, and pulled at the two tentacles hanging from each side of his chin. This tiny Hoth seemed even smaller by the way he was able to fold himself up while sitting; chin on knees, thin arms wrapped around his ankles and his eyes gazing downward.

  “I’ll speak to him,” Maven Sharla spoke, almost spooking the class with a sudden appearance. She stepped further into the group of students.

  “Maven,” Tanik took a deliberate breath to calm her nerves. “Always a pleasure,” Tanik said with honor and respect for the aged Neph.

  Maven Sharla was the oldest being on the ship, and the only one left that remembered boarding the Egress. The entire ship revered her, but her kindness made them love her as well.

  “I trust you’ll see to his irritation with his brother,” Tanik stated, plainly.

  “His brother needn’t fret.” Maven Sharla almost glowed with the brilliance of peace itself. The ship’s Maven was the most knowledgeable and experienced leader. Her waist length hair used to be black but was now gently speckled with silver.

  The Maven’s blue eyes were comforting and kind. They connected with Mathis, as she said, “He has given his heart. He only forgets for a moment.”

  The Maven stepped closer to Mathis and ruffled his curly light brown hair as she smiled sweetly.

  Placing her hand under his chin she lifted his face. “Our hearts still break for your loss Mathis, Hoth of the water. It has become our loss. Long live the Hoth, through you, my child.”

  Mathis turned the corners of his mouth into a shy smile, then looked away and pulled at his tentacles. “Thank you, Maven Sharla,” he whispered too softly for anyone but the Maven to hear.

  Mathis had been unbearably lonely since the rest of the Hoth had been lost when the gamma ray burst had slammed into their ship only a few months earlier. The only Hoth that had not been in stasis were Mathis’ parents and his grandfather, Shep, who were the caretakers of the Hoth stasis pods. Mathis was the sole survivor of his tribe simply because he had been with the keeper’s class when the burst hit.

  But his lonely pang was intensified by the grief he felt over the loss of his grandfather. Shep had taken time with his grandson, showing him all the buttons and levers that kept life sustained on their region of the Egress.

  Now though, he had no one to share in his sorrow. He was a Hoth and no one regarded them as much of anything, and now not even much of a loss.

  Tanik’s class had been giving a performance for the emissaries at the time of the disaster, so fortunately they were not on the observatory deck when the gamma ray burst hit the Egress. Tanik had scheduled this event to show her trust in the ship and its crew, which in turn, gave her reason to continue teaching her class. She believed her stories were essential for future generations.

  Radiation had beat against their vessel, but it was almost completely repelled by the superior energy shields of the Egress. The shields succeeded in protecting most of the passengers from the initial burst. However, the vessel was left crippled when there was a massive power overload, which wiped out the entire Hoth stasis sector.

  Almost nine generations earlier, most of the planet of Reen had boarded the Egress, in hopes the vessel could outrun the imminent nova and its effects.

  It was now a waiting game for the passengers, as they watched the engineers, race against time to repair their crippled ship and bring the shields back online before the impact of the impending wave of deadly particle radiation.

  These mission essential crew members worked around the clock, trouble-shooting their system. The shock wave of particle radiation was calculated to reach the Egress 276 days from the time the gamma ray burst had hit their ship. That 232 days ago.

  Now, they had 44 days left before the particle radiation wave would overtake the Egress.

  Tanik’s class had always been held on the observation deck overlooking the tribe’s living quarters but this was no longer the case.

  As the Emissaries debated what to do with the hundreds of dead Hoth in stasis they all agreed on one fact; the Observatory Deck should be off limits until something was decided about the dead.

  Maven Sharla had suggested the rule and the Emissaries agreed to it. Yet they agreed for different reasons than the Maven had put forth. The Emissaries were thinking of the students having to see death, which could be upsetting. The Maven was thinking of Mathis having to see his entire tribe extinguished.

  Since the shields had been crippled, their generators were running hot, making the entire observation deck unbearable. Essential life support was only routed to necessary areas of the ship. Comfort was not a priority so they were all struggling against the heat.

  There was a storm of activity surrounding the class of the story keepers and it was difficult for Tanik to keep her students focused on learning. Engineers and technicians dashed about carrying tool belts and schematics. Their faces were filled with desperation. If they couldn’t find a way to bring their energy shie
lds online before the particle radiation reached the Egress, all would be lost. Everyone felt the gravity of their situation.

  The Maven’s head tipped toward Tanik and Tanik tipped her head in return. The class watched the Most Holy Maven exit in a fading apparition in front of their eyes. Pure Neph were once able to completely disappear, but pure Neph were a thing of the past. The Neph aboard the Egress could fade to the extent of not being noticed, but all could still be seen, as if they were little more than a silhouette of blurry waves. Of all the unique abilities exhibited by the array of tribes inhabiting the Egress, the fading Neph still attracted the most eyes of amazed wonderment.

  As the Maven had almost disappeared from the keeper’s class she reappeared just as quickly near the great dining hall.

  Deni’s golden eyes grew wide at the sudden sight of the Maven in front of her.

  The Maven quickly said with a teasing grin, “Deni, I thought you never left the gardens.”

  “Oh! Um, I thought I would come to the dining hall today,” Deni said, a little breathlessly.

  The Maven gazed toward the many tables of people talking, laughing, and eating in the giant room. Her eyes fell on a single smiling face that was looking in Deni’s direction.

  “Tell Tala I said, ‘hello’,” Maven Sharla said softly to Deni.

  Deni’s light brown cheeks turned almost as red as her curly hair.

  Maven Sharla smiled with a radiance that seemed to exude tenderness.

  Deni pushed a few stray tight curls from her face with the back of her hand as if her hands were dirty.

  “She visits you in the gardens,” the Maven said more as a statement than a question.

  One of Deni’s most striking features from her multi-tribal ancestry was the golden color of her eyes that were now bright and filled with light as she spoke of Tala.

  “She’s Goweli, you know? She catalogues the stacks in the library. She dances among my flower gardens like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’m so glad our foremothers chose to bring seeds of flowers as well as seeds of the edibles. I love beauty,” her golden eyes shined bright. “Don’t you just love beauty, Maven?” Deni tilted her head and smiled as one in love.

  These were the most words Maven Sharla had ever heard from Deni. She was of the Tsila tribe whose stillness of tongue enhanced their hearing. Their quiet spirit allowed them to commune with nature.

  The Maven was pleased to see Deni so enthralled by another person. Every time the Maven had visited her in the garden sector Deni was busy with her plants and seeds and their care. Never did she find the young lady having conversation with anyone. The Tsila tribe was not a shy people they just usually preferred the company of those living things that did not have the ability of speech.

  “To make beauty is a rare gift from the gods,” the Maven said, “but the one that enjoys beauty shows our hope for a future.”

  “Well I don’t know about all that,” Deni said. “I just think,” she gazed at the waiting Tala, “beauty not enjoyed is such a waste.”

  “Indeed,” Maven Sharla said with a smile. “You should go to her…and enjoy.”

  “Yes, Maven,” Deni smiled.

  “I must be off to see about another matter,” Maven Sharla said with a sigh.

  Deni gave a quick nod, out of respect for the Maven, and hurried away to meet Tala.

  Before she reached the table where Tala sat, Deni turned back and saw Maven Sharla smiling.

  She looked back at Tala and her heart skipped a beat, then her heart took two quick beats as if catching up to its natural rhythm. It often fluttered in her chest at the mere thought of Tala.

  She took a quick breath and lightly laid her hand to her chest.

  “Are you okay?” Tala asked.

  “I, uh. My heart just does funny things sometimes. I just need some water, I think.”

  “I’ll get it,” Tala said, smoothly rising.

  Deni sat down at the table while Tala went to the serving window for a glass of water.

  Deni watched Tala go as she took a slow deep breath and let it go with a quiver of delight. Her thoughts trailed off to the time she first met Tala.

  They were twelve and it was their first day of school.

  Deni was sitting with her friends when Tala entered the classroom. With only one seat left Tala sat next to Deni.

  “Why aren’t you wearing clothes of the Goweli?” Tala said with an air of confidence that only comes with being very beautiful.

  “Because I am Tsila,” Deni said with pride as she wore her tight brown pants and button up shirt. “Clothes,” Deni gestured to herself, trying to make her point.

  “So where’s your top-knot?” Tala insisted, which was the usual way the Tsila wore their hair. Men and women alike wore the top portion of their hair in a tight knot and the lower portion in a long braid down their back.

  Deni pushed her tight red curls out of her eyes and said simply, “I like it this way. I am still Tsila.” Deni set her jaw as if making her stand.

  “But you’re so very lovely,” Tala said as if amazed. Then Tala smiled as if it were understood that they were now friends.

  Deni wanted to ask if Tala believed that only the Goweli could be beautiful but in that moment she was so mesmerized by the compliment that she didn’t speak another word.

  Tala’s friends, the other Goweli, didn’t take kindly to Deni. They were never mean, but also never welcoming.

  Tala was at ease with Deni and her usual silence but as children grow and interests and responsibilities change, friendships change as well.

  Tala spent more and more time with her Goweli friends as they learned the traditional arts of their ancestors. Tala excelled in dance and even began to compose her own interpretations of history in song and dance. This only upset the elders who wanted her to adhere to the traditions that had been passed down from previous generations. She obeyed outwardly but her heart ached to be creative. Tala didn’t turn her back entirely on the traditions and beliefs of the past; she simply rebelled in her own quiet way.

  When Tala was eighteen she went quietly in search of a room large enough to allow her freedom to dance without fear of harsh reprimand. She crept from her quarters in the middle of the night to dance on the observation deck while it was vacant.

  The only people that ever saw her dancing there at that off hour were the keepers of the Hoth sector; Mathis’ parents and grandfather, Shep.

  Through the windows of the observation deck Mathis’ parents would take passing notice when she was there but Shep would stop everything, pull his grandson close, and together they would gaze up at her as if glimpsing the sight of a colorful nebula.

  Night after night and for years Tala would come to dance in the wide open space. Each night before she left she would sway her lovely body into a graceful bow to Shep and Mathis.

  One night before Tala gave her usual respectful bow Shep handed something to Mathis and directed him to give it to Tala. He took the diagonal elevator from the Hoth sector to the main deck and then up from the main elevator to the observation deck.

  After a short while Mathis brought her back to the Hoth sector to meet his grandfather.

  “I don’t understand,” Tala said. “This is a book about Hoth. Why give it to me?”

  “I see you dance for truth instead of tradition. I think you may find our story intriguing.”

  “I will catalogue it in the library,” Tala said.

  “No,” Shep insisted. “This is for you.”

  “I am honored.” She took the book and never told a soul.

  The book was filled with poetry about how the Hoth revered the different tribes and in fact life itself. The book contradicted what she’d always been taught about the tiny Hoth.

  She was too afraid to tell anyone so she began to write her findings and her feeling about them in a journal. However, because she was beginning to have thoughts and beliefs unlike her Goweli friends and family she became even more quiet and recluse; only socializing to appea
se those around her.

  After finishing school she took a permanent position in the library, cataloguing the stacks of ancient texts, writings, drawings and video archives. She felt at home among the shelves and shelves of endless books with their stories of giants, and whole underground societies.

  “What does that even mean?” she wondered while reading one day. She had only heard of a thing called dirt with which the Tsila planted their seeds that grew their edible plants and fragrant flowers.

  She read of these giant palaces and planting fields in this underground empire. She read of some that were forced to the surface. She read of paintings on the walls of their underground tunnels. She read and read as she stayed for hours among the stacks during the day and then most nights she would slip out to dance on the observatory deck.

  That was before the gamma burst had hit the Egress and the Hoth sector had been compromised. A massive power overload caused an explosion in one of the generators, breaching the hull. In an instant Mathis’ parents and grandfather had been sucked out of the ever growing rip in the hull.

  When Tala heard of Mathis’ grandfather she never danced on the observatory deck again. She poured herself into her ever growing book obsession and only wept when she was alone.

  Then, on no special day, Deni walked into the library. Tala hadn’t seen her since they had finished school; almost seven years earlier.

  Tala peered at her through the space between two books. It had been so long since she had seen her friend and yet, seeing her again made her smile and with her long slender fingers she covered her mouth to hold in a gasp. She slipped slowly from her place behind the shelves toward Deni.

  Deni however, gave a cough as she tried to catch her breath. She then inhaled quick breaths as if her heart had begun to race.

  “Oh, are you alright? I know I should dust this place more,” Tala laughed nervously. “But I just get so caught up in reading that I forget where I am sometimes.” Tala reached out to steady Deni’s shoulder but drew it back with sudden self-consciousness.

  Deni cleared her throat and tried to speak.

  “Seeds,” she said and cleared her throat again. “I wanted to know if any seeds were in any of the crates of writings that first came on the Egress.”