I spoke up: “For what it's worth, Tarion, neither am I. I don't want any more trouble between us – and I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused her in the past, though I doubt she'll ever be prepared to hear that, let alone forgive me for it. So I can give you my word that I'll do everything I can to avoid her from now on.”
“In that case,” Tarion replied with a nod in my direction, “even though it's highly unorthodox, I'll grant your request and square it with the fleet admirals myself.”
“Thank you,” Dashel said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I know they won't be happy about it. I hope they won't take the Gyygnar from you because of it.”
“They're welcome to try.” Tarion bared his fangs in a grin. “I'll have our stellar cartographers chart a course from here to the third planet of the Sol system. There'll be a lot of zigs and zags, but it should keep you hidden from the humans' long-range star-charting devices...and hopefully, from Pax sensors as well. Do not deviate from the course you are given under any circumstances. If this impulsive little jaunt of yours results in any negative consequences, you will certainly lose your command. And for that matter, so will I, which will have been a terrible way for you to repay me for granting this favor. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely,” Dashel answered without hesitation.
“I'll have the relevant obstetric data transferred to your sickbay's computers,” Tarion continued, “and perhaps we can even send over a medical assistant who's had experience with these sorts of things, though if I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up. Lehar and I will remain in orbit around Nort, in case the Alliance decides they want to try to take it back. Meanwhile, I hereby grant permission for you to leave orbit in precisely twenty-four hours. Safe travels, Dashel, and do not make me regret this.”
“I won't.” Dashel saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
And with that, Tarion leaned forward, hitting the comm button with his claw and disappearing from the screen.
Dashel turned to me with a smile. “Looks like we're going to Earth.”
28
Dashel
Since we weren't traveling in anything resembling a straight line, the trip from Nort to the Sol system in the so-called “Milky Way” galaxy took several long and arduous months. (Leave it to a planet of talking mammals to name their space sector after their lactation process, I thought ruefully.)
The Wyvern carefully clung to the course we'd been given by Tarion's people – hiding within nebulas and asteroid belts whenever possible, closely following the hulking forms of comets so we could conceal ourselves in their trails, or hopping between black holes and other anomalies which confused long-range telescopes and sensors.
These detours were necessary, but there was a fascinating cosmic beauty in them, too. Swirls of color and light, clouds of gas and ice and eternally burning flame, half-exploded moons which hung forever frozen in the throes of their own destruction. Celestial bodies which went nova in brilliant flashes, planetary rings composed of billions of glittering diamonds, strings of rock interlocked across entire star systems like the gargantuan spinal columns of long-dead gods.
I shared all of these astonishing sights with Natalie, my arm wrapped tightly around her waist as we stood in front of the window or the viewscreen on the command deck. I wanted to show her that, although the galaxy was a dangerous place for the uninitiated, it could be a magical and enchanting one too. She seemed impressed by many of the natural phenomena, her eyes dancing with the endless possibilities for beauty and wonder that the universe had to offer.
Yes, I could give her a final trip to Earth – but through these daily sightings, I demonstrated that I could give her the stars too, in all of their infinite mystery.
As we made our way to her home planet, she schooled me thoroughly on Earth customs and protocols – or at least, she tried to. They didn't come easily to me. The behavior of humans seemed so unnecessarily complicated, ritualistic, and obtuse. They never seemed to come right out and say what they meant. There was always some elaborate social compact which needed to be observed, and sometimes, trying to memorize them infuriated me.
No wonder these creatures were barely able to coordinate the effort to leave their own planet, let alone explore their solar system! They were too busy talking around each other in circles, or bending over backwards to hide their true emotions and desires! And those who did deal with each other in a straightforward fashion were considered rude pests at best, or criminals at worst!
“Why don't these people of yours just do what they want, say what they want, and take what they want?!” I roared one day during a particularly disastrous lesson. “What is the need for all of this tact and subterfuge, when it guarantees that even the simplest interactions and exchanges take twenty times as long as they need to?”
“Because if everyone on Earth behaved that way,” Natalie explained, trying to remain patient, “society as a whole would fall into chaos and anarchy.”
“The Hielsrane Empire has proceeded in such a fashion for countless centuries, and not only has our 'society' remained fully intact, it's a model of simplicity by comparison. The strong prevail, and as such, they dictate the lives of the weak. That's it. The entirety of civilization doesn't grind to a halt every few cleks so the wants and needs of every individual, regardless of their status, can be addressed and respected.”
“Minutes,” she corrected, “not cleks. Trust me, that's not the kind of mistake you want to make down on the surface. And you might recall, it was a system much like the one you're describing that made me a slave.”
“Precisely!” I agreed, leaping up from
