The Christmas Gift

Today, Dixie was running wild at the dog park with her friends. She is a beautiful sight when she runs like that. Dixie had also partnered up with an elegant boxer, and all six dogs, the two German shepherds, the wolf-hybrid, the Samoyed-Malamute, the boxer, and a golden retriever  ganged up on a smallish, black, dog, breed undetermined. I went to rescue the poor, out-numbered pooch, who really was wagging his tail enthusiastically, but whose owner was on the verge of hysteria. Suddenly, I heard someone call my name.

I turned to see a tall, young man grinning at me. “Do you remember me?” he asked.

“Well, you are an adult now, and your appearance must have changed a lot. How do you expect me to identify you, young man?” I think quickly on my feet. “But I know you were one of my students.”

He laughed. “It’s me, Kevin.” And without another word he gave me a bear hug and a kiss.

His friend was laughing and betting I wouldn’t know him either.  He was right. But a few minutes later we had a proper reunion right there in the middle of the dog park that was relatively empty because all sane people were in their warm homes.

We chit-chatted for a few minutes when I asked, “Well, Kevin, what are you doing with yourself these days?”

“I’m studying journalism at the UK.”

“Journalism?”

“I’m going to be a writer, like you.”

????

This afternoon was one of the best Christmas presents I’ve ever had.

Past, Present and Future

“He who spends time regretting the past loses the present and risks the future.”

Francisco de Quevedo

Spanish master satirist and poet of Spain’s Golden Age, 1580-1645

The Rizorian Flaw – Chapter Sixteen

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Author’s note:

This is the last chapter of The Rizorian Flaw. I hope you have enjoyed reading this manuscript. The previous chapters 1-15 are all here on this blog. To find them, use the “find” function, using the title The Rizorian Flaw as the search term.

If you have enjoyed this story, please leave me a comment, and consider subscribing to my feed. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  —Carole

Sixteen

Something disturbed Miriam’s sleep —again.  This time she got up, but rather than just pace the floor, she stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. She found little relief from the heat; the cool mountain winds that usually made sleep possible moved not at all through the torn banana leaves. Only the biting gnats seemed to have the energy to move around, and Miriam automatically slapped at her arms and legs as she peered into the darkness. But it wasn’t heat, nor the gnats that made her restless.

She sensed something within the fabric of the night that was out of place, a sort of wrinkle, a disturbance. Because her eyes could not pierce the darkness, Miriam released her mind to search for answers. When the calls of the coqui changed suddenly from their soothing songs to urgent cries, her anxiety quickened. The moonless sky cloudless, yet brilliant cast an eerie light and the stars seemingly pressed closer to Earth.

Suddenly, feeling a wave of weakness; she sat down on the step and cradled her head in her arms. Miriam had recognized the feeling of immediate danger that strengthened with each heart beat. It had found her.

Miriam reached into even deeper recesses of her mind to fight off the growing sense of panic, and systematically, she drove those feelings from her until she felt in control once again. The struggle wore her out, but the satisfaction she felt in the victorious outcome renewed her. It was time, she decided, to act.

Once again, she illuminated the darkness with her mind and searched the immediate area. Everything was as it should be, but the annoying undercurrent, the whispers, whose meaning she couldn’t quite make out, told her differently, and she knew that she was being warned.

Puzzled as to the meaning of the warning, she decided to check on the children; it was possible one of them was being menaced. Miriam stretched out her awareness to where each one of the children slept. Discovering they were all well she breathed a long sigh of relief; the collective shield that protected them all was intact. Unaware that anything was amiss, the children slept peacefully, and Miriam decided that there was no reason to disturb them. She strengthened the shield, and prayed it would be strong enough to protect them and her. For the moment, all were safe, but she felt drained of energy, and she knew she had to rest. The shield would maintain itself from the high energy levels of her Adept mind, but in order to replenish her energy, sleep and rest were necessry. It was difficult for Miriam to yield to the much needed sleep, but yield she did, knowing the danger that complete exhaustion would bring.

Just before dawn she awakened. Outwardly, everything appeared normal, but the presence of danger was still there. It grew stronger, more persistant, and finally, it demanded all her attention. Suddenly, she sensed something familiar, something that she could latch on to. The usual mountain breezes were on the prowl again, and with them they brought to her the scent of something that she recognized. It was the source of danger.

********

             Ahja followed the hastily drawn map that the clerk from the bureau of tourism had drawn for him. It led him to the town of Cayey, nestled in a basin in the mountains of Puerto Rico. Ahja would have never believed that it could be so easy. At first, this new mission had seemed to be just about impossible, yet here he was an hour or two away from its completion, with months to spare.

The search had begun when he returned to the place where he had lived for all those years on Earth. In the process of straightening his affairs, and getting established once again, he had paid a visit to his bank. Unexpectedly, it was that visit to the bank that had brought him to the Caribbean Island in search of the cause of his memory loss, and Miriam.

Miriam! Was it possible that she was alive?

At the bank he had discovered that all of his funds had been transferred to a bank in Puerto Rico over a year ago. No memory of such a transfer existed in Ahja’s memory, and yet there was no doubt that it had taken place. The bank clerks had remembered the complex transfer, and they were able to produce the records to verify it.

The money had been transferred to Miriam! Ahja’s hands had trembled when he saw her signature clearly on the computer image. Miriam survived! He shook his head in disbelief, he had seen her die in the Purification Squad lasers, yet there was proof that she lived. Incredible. It was even more unbelievable that he had known, and that he had transferred his funds to her. Ahja knew that his next step was to go to see her; his questions had to be answered, and Miriam was the key.

What would happen, he wondered, when he found her. Minje had reminded Ahja before he had left the ship that he was still under oath to complete the mission at all cost. If one Adept still survived, Ahja was now solely responsible for the elimination himself. The Lord Chairman had warned him that he had failed before, and that he must not again. Ahja had assured Minje that he would not fail, and yet he didn’t know it would be Miriam.

           As Ahja’s car climbed the steep mountain roads, he could feel the temperature drop until he felt almost comfortable. Perspiration no longer dripped down his face, and his glasses no longer slid down the narrow bridge of his nose. The road markers were hard to spot, and at times they were all but obscured by the tall grass, but at last he had arrived at the small general store, where he had been assured of further directions.

Just as Ahja entered the store and prepared to ask for directions, the short, red‑faced store keeper ran from behind the makeshift counter over to him. The man threw his arms around a speechless Ahja, and welcomed him enthusiastically. Abruptly, the store owner ran to the doorway; there he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hey, everybody, look! Ahja has returned!” It wasn’t too long before the store was crowded with people, who welcomed Ahja just as warmly.

           Where did all these people come from? And what was more important, these people knew and liked him! Why had this memory been taken from him?

“Miriam will be so happy to see you again, Ahja,” the red‑faced store owner said. “She told us you would never come back, and I told her that she was wrong. I know true love when I see it. Didn’t I tell all of you that?” he asked of the group of grinning people who crowded around Ahja.

“I have to see Miriam,” Ahja said.

Everyone laughed. There was a festive mood in the store.

“Of course, you want to see her. I’ll send my granddaughter, Milagros to tell her that you are here,” the store owner said.

“No, please, I prefer to go myself,” Ahja protested.

“No, Ahja,” the man said firmly, “all lovers are impatient, but you must give her some time to make herself pretty for you. Go, Milagros, and tell Miriam that Ahja is here!”

Before Ahia could object, the child was out of the store and out of sight. Minutes later, she was back, her cheeks scarlet with the effort of running back up the steep hill to the colmado where Ahja had been forced to wait impatiently.

             ”She is so excited!” Milagros laughed as she clapped her hands. “Come, she wants to see you right away!” The child slipped her tiny hand in his and pulled him out of the store.

As he walked alongside the child, Milagros, Ahja cradled the small communicator in his hand. Minje had slipped it into his pocket before he had left the Lodestar. It was his ticket home. One call with the information that he already had, and the security team would come for him, and Miriam too. Ahja was certain that Miriam was responsible for his memory loss. Certainly, all of his troubles were over, but why did he hesitate? Perhaps, it was because he had to see her again to be sure, or because he wanted to see her for no logical reason. Furthermore, things had happened much too quickly, and he needed time to sort things out.

These people knew him, and they had welcomed him as if he were one of them who had returned home. The words of their language, too, flowed effortlessly through his mind, and when he spoke to these moountain people, the Spanish words seemed to caress his lips—like a kiss. They had said that Ahja and Miriam were lovers. If that were true, how could he have forgotten? Why was he forced to forget?

He saw her then. Miriam walked up the steep path to meet him. She smiled broadly, but as she got closer to Ahja, he could tell  she was under great stress, and that her smile was purely a theatrical one. She doesn’t fool me, he thought. I can play this game, too.

Miriam interrupted his thoughts by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him lovingly on the mouth. Ahja heard a wild cheer, and shouts of encouragement from the people outside the store. Miriam smiled brightly and waved to the small crowd, watching them closely. The child turned and ran back to the main road; Ahja looked deeply into Miriam’s copper eyes, searching for answers.

“Don’t say anything now!” she whispered as she took his hand and led him to the most dilapidated shack that he had ever seen, or remembered seeing. They walked slowly and silently.

They still had not spoken when they went inside of the shack. Miriam sat down on a sofa that dominated the small room. Ahja noticed that its left, front leg was missing. An inverted coffee can held up that end of the sofa, and as Miriam seated herself, the old, and tired furnishing wobbled.

             Ahja stood in front of her feeling awkward, not knowing how to start his questioning. Fighting his feelings of confusion, he glanced around the sparcely furnished room, and chose a wooden, straight back chair that stood in a corner of the room. It was as far as he could get from her without leaving the shack. Ahja couldn’t understand his own silence; there were so many questions that he wanted to ask that were locked up inside of him, yet he was reluctant to release them just then.

Miriam also waited, her eyes round and bright with questions of her own. It would be so easy, she thought, if we linked minds, everything would’ve been settled by now. But Miriam was unsure of Ahja’s reaction should he sense her attempt at a telepathic link, and she had noticed how tightly he held the small metal device in his hand.

“All of those people know me,” Ahja whispered. “I’ve been here before?”

Miriam nodded. It would be wise, she thought, to let him uncover the truth for himself.

“They knew me well?”

“Yes, you had stayed with me for a many weeks. They liked you, and they still like you.

“They say that we were lovers.”

It was not a direct question, and Miriam didn’t comment. Ahja searched her face for some reaction to what he had just said, but her face was impassive, and he could find no answers there.

“If that were true, I would remember, Miriam.”

Silence.

“Aboard the ship, I was told that something, or someone had tampered with my mind, and with my memory. Miriam, talk to me! It’s vital that I find out what happened to me! “

Ahja clutched the communicator in his hand. A part of him wanted to signal the ship, but he couldn’t, not before he had found the answers to his questions. He got up from his chair, walked slowly across the creaking boards of the room, and he sat down on the sofa next to Miriam. He sat stiffly, his hands gripped his knees, the communicator momentarily forgotten.

“What happened, Miriam?” His voice was controlled, but the features of his face hinted at the suppressed rage. “Do you know who did this to me?”

Her lack of response infuriated him, and he lost the control of which he had been always so proud. He jumped from the sofa, and taking hold of her shoulders, Ahja shook her violently. “Did you steal my memories, Miriam? Was it you?”

Miriam did not flinch from his touch. Serenely, she looked into his eyes, smiled faintly and answered him in a whisper so soft that he could hardly hear her.

“Yes, Ahja, I did do that.”

Ahja dropped his hands to his side. “But why?” he cried.

“Because you asked me to do it, in fact, you begged me to, and that is the only reason why I would’ve even considered it. I did it for you!” Miriam had answered without raising her voice, and while Ahja’s expression grew dark and menacing, her face showed no trace of fear.

“That’s ridiculous! Why would I have asked such a thing of you? Why would anyone?”

“Perhaps the past was too painful, or too dangerous to keep.”

“Don’t answer me in riddles, woman, tell me what I want to know.”

“The truth?”

“The truth, all of the truth.”

“When your people came back for you, you were eager to rejoin them. Your only thoughts were of returning to your home world after your long stay here. Only one thing held you back.”

“And that was?”

“The knowledge that during the debriefing, your people would discover that I had not died at the hands of the Rizorians. There was no way for you to hide that knowledge from the debriefer, and you didn’t want your memories to betray me. You came to me with what you said was the only solution, and asked me to erase those memories.”

Ahja had been ready to tear apart any argument, or any explanation that she might have made, but now he hesitated. While he couldn’t accept her explanation readily, he admitted to himself that it was something he might have done. It could’ve happened that way, but without his memory, how would he know for sure?

“Give me back my memories, Miriam!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They no longer exist.”

“But you had access to them, and you remember.”

“Yes, that’s true, but…”­

“Then if any part of them is still alive in your mind, you can give them back. Do that, and I’ll believe you.”

“I can’t, Ahja. You aren’t Adept, and you don’t have the ability to enter my mind. And even if you could, you might cause irreparable damage to me. All I can do is enter your mind, and share my memories with you, but they would be my memories we would share. You would not be satisfied with my recollection, you would reject them as you reject my explanation even now. Ahja. I’ve never lied to you, surely you can remember that much about me.”

“You’re lying now, and you’re hiding something. That’s why you won’t allow me to enter your mind. With your abilities, you could find a way to do it, if you wanted to.”

“Ahja, you’re wrong. But listen, I don’t think that you need to look into my mind to find the truth. I did what you asked me to do because you were desperate, and you wanted to protect me.”

“If I loved you that much, why would I leave you?”

Miriam shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him sadly. “Only you can answer that, Ahja.”

“If you loved me, why did you let me go? Why did you help me?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the right thing to do,” she answered softly.

Ahja stared at this woman, who showed so little emotion, and who returned his gaze without wavering once. Her voice was soft and quiet, her lips did not tremble, nor were there tears in her eyes. How could he judge what she had said?

The sun was beginning to set, and in the growing twilight Ahja spotted tiny flashes of blue‑green light drift past the open door…

The communicator purred warmly in his hand; it seemed to be alive. Ahja had only to depress one small button to be in instant contact with the Lodestar, just one button, and the link would be established. He caressed it as he held it in the palm of his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, when suddenly, deliberately, he turned his palm over, and sent the communicator crashing to the floor.

Startled, Miriam cried out.

“Don’t worry, Miriam, it’s nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing? It was your communicator, and I know how important it was to you.”

“It isn’t any longer.” Ahja smiled, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the spot on the floor where the shattered communicator lay. He had made his decision, and while there were no doubts, or regrets in his mind, he needed a little more time to sever the link completely between him and the ship that might have taken him home.

            After a while, Ahja pushed aside the shattered remains of the little device with his foot, but he did so gently. At that moment, he felt ready to stop looking backwards at what might have been, and surprisingly, he felt relieved.

All the while Miriam had remained silent. watching him closely. She wasn’t certain what his actions meant, and she was afraid to hope.

Ahja took her hand. “I’ll stay on Earth, Miriam. I’ll stay here with you, if you’ll let me.” Ahja frowned thoughtfully before he added in an almost shy, uncertain voice. “It’s alright, isn’t it, Miriam?”

A tremendous swell of joy washed over her as she fought the insane urge to cry, and to laugh simultaneously.

“Ahja,” she whispered as she drew herself closer to him, “the one thing that I had feared and regretted most was that you would never speak those words to me.”

As they kissed and held onto each other, Miriam’s feelings of tremendous joy broke free from the last restraining bonds, fired by the energy of her mind. Her emotions cascaded from her, surged from the tiny shack, reeled and spun uncontrollably into the sleepy countryside, and echoed through the shadows of the mountains.

Maestra? The thoughts tugged shyly at Miriam’s awareness. Maestra Miriam, is everything all right?

           Oh yes, children, everything is fine, perfect. And I have wonderful news. Ahja will stay here with me, with us!

           Pardon us, Maestra, the thoughts carried many conflicting emotions, we are happy for you, and we like him, but will it be safe?

           It will be safe. This man is different as you will see. In time he will know about you, and I know  he will accept you, and help you as I have done. Of this I am certain.

           If you say so, Maestra Miriam. For too long they had distrusted outsiders, but if Maestra Miriam said it was so, they would accept her judgement. It was their way.

           There were many other questions in the minds of the children of the mountain, but they found a shield of privacy strung up between them and the mind of their teacher. Accustomed to her constant and ready attention, they did not like the shield that for the first time separated them from her.

The collective minds of the children retreated slowly and reluctantly. They were not yet powerful enough to break through the privacy shield that Miriam had set up, and years of discipline prevented them from trying.

Knowing there would be other times more appropriate for their questioning, the children turned their attention to their children’s games, and to the ever important task of maintaining their shield against scrutiny from everyone outside.

Miriam closed her eyes and smiled. Her children had learned their lessons well. The men from beyond the stars would never know of their existence.

           They are such good children, she thought, listening to their shrieks of laughter as they ran and played. Carefully, she tested their strength. Without taking time out from their games, the children easily held the network of their shield firmly in place.

Miriam was pleased.

THE RIZORIAN FLAW — Chapter Fifteen

Fifteen

 

 Ahja lay on his bunk; the probe had left him too exhausted to do much of anything else. With the ordeal of the debriefer over, he was supposed to rest and recover his strength, but he couldn’t. The grip of unrelenting tension would not leave him. From the moment he arrved at the rendezvous point, and brought aboard the Lodestar, Ahja knew that there was something wrong. Outwardly, everything was as correct and proper as could be expected, but something he couldn’t quite pinpoint told him otherwise.

 Ahja decided that he had to rest because unless he did, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly. He summoned all of his self‑discipline to concentrate on the slow moving patterns of colors that emanated from the cabin’s communicator screen. He watched them as they stretched lazily across the ceiling and oozed down the four walls to seemingly melt on the floor. Accompanying the colors were the whispering musical tones designed to relax him after his ordeal with the probe. But nothing relaxed him, and strangely, some of the patterns of light appeared to excite him, though he couldn’t understand why. Ahja found himself gritting his teeth whenever a particular sequence of blue‑green lights drifted alone across the cabin surfaces. It seemed contradictory to him that those particular lights should arouse in him joy and despair.

The portal of the tiny cabin slid open; the accompanying rush of air alerted him, and Ahja tried to jump to his feet. Two slightly familiar security guards, unsmiling and stiffly at attention, entered and stood at either side of the portal. Following them, nodding her head and smiling solitiously, the Chief Probe‑Tech entered. She examined him quickly and efficiently, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly as she did so.

“You have not rested, Master Ahja,” she said accusingly as if he had committed some grave crime. “You know rest is necessary in order to avoid the adverse effects of the probe.”

Ahja shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her in a helpless sort of way, which seemed to shatter her patience. She waved her carefully manicured hand in the direction of the portal, and almost immediately, an assistant tech entered the cabin with the medication tray in his hands. Before Ahja could object, the Chief Probe‑Tech took what she needed from the tray, and her fluttering hands came to rest on his face. The black sleep mask covered his face, and sleep took hold of him with the next sweep of his eyelashes.

The dream was strange. It aroused in him such strong feelings of loss that even as he slept, tears escaped his tightly closed eyelids.

Young Ahja ran barefoot through the white marble streets of Tragia. He ran aimlessly, desperately; he searched for something that he had lost. Many kind, but faceless passersby stopped to ask what was the matter, but the boy would not answer. He only wailed loudly and continued to run through the maze of the city’s streets. As he ran, he grew older, and he matured into a sure footed, determined youth who no longer cried, but the desperation that he felt was undiminished until, without warning, a comforting warmness enveloped him. He felt peaceful and secure.

It was not a voice, nor were there words that echoed in the surrounding stillness, but the message was clear, and Ahja understood.

            Do you remember?

            Yes, I do! I remember!

Ahja felt such a strong, throbbing, pulsating joy grab hold of him that he felt light‑headed. A tingling warmth reached into every nerve ending of his body, until nothing else existed for him. He felt that he was spinning crazily through the spirals of time and the vacuums of space. Enraptured, he defied the laws of gravity, and he soared above the graceful spires of the city towers. He taunted the spires that gleemed maliciously in the blinding light of Trag’s twin suns, and suddenly they reached for him, they would impale him!

“I remember!” he shouted. His voice rang rebelliously through the empty streets. “I remember!”

Ahja wept as he awakened from his medicated sleep, and even as he shouted his words of defiance to the expressionless walls of the cabin, he knew that he had already forgotten the knowledge. Faint traces of the joy that he had experienced still remained with him, yet it too rapidly ebbed out of his reach, and beyond recall.

The portal to the cabin slid open. Almost immediately, the white‑faced security team assigned to him leapt into the cabin. Concern and apprehension were apparent on their usually expressionless faces. Seconds later the Chief Probe‑Tech ran into the cabin.

After examining Ahja carefully, she assured the nervous guards that there was no cause for alarm.

“The Master Translator is in no danger, you are dismissed.” The guards bowed deeply before they backed out of the cabin; they obeyed her orders, but the expressions on their faces indicated that they were unconvinced.

“Your period of rest is not yet done, Master Ahja,” she scolded him in the low, soft, breathless voice that characterized her speech. “Lie back and rest,” she added as she pushed him back on the bunk with her tiny hands.

There was something about the way that she touched his shoulders that disturbed him. The touch of her hands seemed to recall something in him that he couldn’t fully visualize. He covered her hand with his own. The feeling was not quite right, but it was similar to something that he wanted to remember.

The Chief Probe‑Tech noticed his confusion, and she smiled at him reassuringly. “Please, lie back and rest, Master Ahja. I’ll stay near you, in case you have need of me.”

Ahja shook his head, but he did hat she asked of him.

“Sleep now, Master Ahja,” she whispered so softly that he couldn’t be certain that she had spoken at all. The spot on his shoulder that she had touched felt warm with the memory of her touch.

Ahja closed his eyes, and he was very surprised to discover that sleep was indeed about to close in on him once again. He reached out for her hand as she adjusted the pillow beneath his head, and he held onto it tightly. She did not object, and this time his sleep was undisturbed by dreams.

When he awakened, Ahja found himself thoroughly rested and refreshed. He welcomed the summons to the presence of the Lord Chairman, Minje; Ahja was willing and eager to resume his duties as the Master Translator once again. There was the final step of the debriefing which would mark the end of the Terran mission, and the return to his former life. Ahja relished the thought of the forthcoming interview with the Lord Chairman; he knew that it would be a stimulating and memorable one, the most important meeting of his career.

The greeting was formally correct. Minje was cordial, even warm as he expressed his concern for Ahja’s state of health after his exhausting experiences with the probe. The Master Translator waved aside all concerns about his well‑being with a heroic wave of his hand, and he murmured his thanks for the Chairman’s personal interest in him.

The pleasantries and formalities over, Minje grew unusually silent. Ahja felt as if he were being studied, and he squirmed under the Chairman’s scrutiny. As it was required by protocol for Minje to begin the interview, Ahja did not speak. He stood at attention and wondered why he had not been invited to sit; it was not like Minje to forget a simple courtesy to an old friend. The waiting seemed endless, and Ahja grew weary.

“The job of analyzing the tapes of your debriefing was a long and difficult one, Master Ahja. I must add, however, that it was extremely interesting to me, if not altogether fascinating. Under different circumstances, I could almost envy your adventures on the planet surface.”

Minje smiled weakly as he got up from his comfortable chair in the shimmering conference room of the Lodestar.

 “Ah, my friend, you have aged,” he said as he pointed out the touches of gray that had appeared in Ahja’s hair. “That is one aspect of your adventures that I do not envy.” The Chairman sighed and returned to his seat.

“We, the probe‑techs and I, had a great deal of difficulty with your experiences during the Terran night. I must admit to you that most of us grew ill during those segments.” Minje got up again, and he started to pace around the huge conference table.

“I was extremely proud of you, Ahja, when you conquered the night terror. You were the man that I hand picked for this mission, and you surprised even me, with your courage.” Minje stopped his pacing and stood still at the opposite end of the table. He placed his large, powerful hands on the table surface as if to support his weight, and he leaned forward. There was a scowl on his face, and he bared his teeth as if he were ready to spring across the table and attack.

“But the motivation for such an astonishing feat of courage was not loyalty to me, or to the Federation!” Suppressed anger rumbled beneath the controlled exterior of the Lord Chairman.

Ahja remained silent. It was true. He knew that his acts on the planet surface could be considered treason, and now he had to face the consequences. He had done what he thought was right; it was his only defense, and yet it was no defense at all.

Minje plodded back to his chair; he looked tired, and it was as if the suppression of his rage had exhausted him. The Lord Chairman sighed as he lowered his bulk into his seat.

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, my Lord Chairman.”

“Yes, she was beautiful, as all Rizorian women are beautiful. I can almost understand how she succeeded in playing with your emotional weakness in order to sway you from your sworn duty.”

Minje paused in his speech to allow Ahja time for a rebuttal, but when he saw that none was forthcoming, he continued.

“You forgot, Ahja, that she was not as helpless as you supposed. Hidden beneath that beauty was the incredible Adept power. What was even more unbelievable was the control that she displayed.” Minje lowered his voice to a whisper. “The Rizorian fanatics were wrong in her case, weren’t they, Ahja?”

“Wrong, Chairman Minje?”

“Of course they were wrong. This one could and did control her abilities,” Minje sighed again, “but then our loyalties must always be with our own, and in this case, it is the Rizorian government. It was not your place to judge, or to interfere in an internal affair. The job with which you were charged was to maintain the unity of the Federation at all cost.”

 Ahja didn’t answer, he stood stiffly at attention, and he concentrated on keeping control.

The Lord Chairman traced a haphazard pattern on the surface of the table with his long fingernail; he seemed lost in thought. After a long while, when he did look up, all of the anger had vanished from his face, but Ahja was not fooled. The Master Translator knew that the Chairman’s rage had been hidden because something even more important required his attention. Ahja steeled himself for whatever might come.

The Chairman smiled at Ahja, and with a gracious wave of his bejeweled hand, he invited the Translator to be seated. Ahja did so, and he hoped that he had hidden his sense of apprehension from the sharp perception of the Chairman. And when the Lord Chairman smiled at him almost apologetically, Ahja nearly lost control.

“It is beyond my comprehension,” the Chairman mused, “how one human being, a flesh and blood creature, like us, can hold within her being such power as you witnessed. And yet, what frightens me even more was the insistence of the Rizorians that the trained Adept were capable of so much more!”

Once again Ahja did not respond to Minje’s comments. He noted to his chagrin, however, that sitting down was no more comfortable than standing.

“Friend Ahja, let us put the past aside. The Adept has been eliminated, and the Rizorians are satisfied. We have, however, another serious problem on our hands at the moment.”

“Another problem, Lord Minje?”

“You, Ahja, appear normal; outwardly you seem to have suffered no ill effects from your stay on the planet surface. You appear to be the same person, but‑”

“But?” Ahja suddenly felt panic claw at his chest.

“You are not the same person, the man I have known since your student days at the academy. You have been tampered with; your mind has been altered!”

The Chairman’s words rushed at him, they hammered at his senses, and they almost crushed Ahja with their implication. Somehow Ahja managed to control himself; he knew that above all, he must not do anything to worry, or upset the Chairman. When he spoke, Ahja surprised himself at the clear, controlled steadiness in his voice.

“I am the same person that I have always been, my Lord Chairman. Why do you say that I am not?”

Minje breathed deeply as he folded his hands into a giant fist that he let fall onto the shimmering table surface.

“Ahja, there is something wrong with the results of the probe!”

“You do mean that the probe‑techs have committed an error, don’t you?” Ahja thought that he would have to face the debriefer once again, and that thought sickened him.

“We have cross‑checked; the probe‑techs are not in error, instead they have discovered something so incredible that they don’t know how to explain it.

“Something is very much wrong with you, Ahja, or perhaps I should say that something is wrong with your recall of the time that you spent on the planet surface!”

Ahja held his breath. How could that be possible?

“It is the opinion of the Chief Probe‑Tech that the gaps in your memory have been produced mechanically and systematically.”

Ahja managed to control an outcry of protest, but the effort was evident. His hands shook, and he sought to control them by holding onto the shimmering table in front of him.

“How is that possible?” he asked in what he hoped was a cool, calm and rational voice. “Respectfully, I submit that there is some sort of error, to which the tech will not admit.”

“There is no error, Ahja. I’ve checked the accuracy of the probe myself. Someone, or something has tampered with your memory. And we do not know what else in your mind has been altered!”

Minje’s voice was cold and quiet with that sliver of sharpness to it that Ahja recognized as a warning of danger. The Master Translator had heard that particular tone in the Chairman’s voice only a few times before, and he would have never imagined that someday it would’ve been directed at him. Ahja also knew that that particular tone in Minje’s voice signalled that a decision had been made. Nothing would disuade the Chairman from his decision, and all that remained was for Ahja to listen and obey the will to of the Chairman.

“There are tell-tale imperfections in the otherwise perfectly woven cloth that is your memory, Ahja.”

“How was it done, Lord?”

“We are not certain. There are two possibilities. Either the Terrans have the technology to achieve such a surgery, or‑”

“Or?”

“Perhaps an Adept still hides on the planet surface.”

“The planet has been scanned with the detector, hasn’t it?”

“It has.”

“And?”

“The results are negative, but negative results are merely inconclusive, Ahja. For an Adept as skilled, and as powerful as this one would have to be, the shielding of the brain waves against the detector would be a simple task, child’s play.”

“And the disposition of my case, Lord Minje?” Ahja knew that it was improper for him to ask that particular question, but at some point during the conversation, he had stopped caring what was proper.

“This is the most difficult part of all, Ahja. Somewhere in your mind there could be something hidden, placed there by forces hostile to the Federation, and placed there for purposes too diabolical to guess. At some preprogrammed moment, you might be responsible for setting forces into motion which could prove disasterous to the Federation.”

“I cannot be trusted! My loyalty is at question?”

“Regretfully true, Ahja. You are not the same man who started out on this mission. You have been altered, and we must assume that you are the unwilling agent of forces hostile to us. Since we do not know why, and in what way they tampered with your mind’s memories, nor do we know for what purpose, we cannot allow you to remain aboard this ship any longer. You survived well on the planet surface, and we shall return you there. It is all that we can do.”

“Exile!”

“It is a harsh sentence, Ahja, but it is not as harsh as execution. Out of love and respect for the man, Ahja, to whom we owe a debt of gratitude, and who was our dear friend, we wish you no harm.” For the first time during the interview, Minje spoke with regret, and even with a trace of sadness. Ahja wasn’t fooled; weakness did not exist in the Lord Chairman when he played his role.

“There is one chance. If you are able to find the answers to our questions on the planet’s surface, the source and the method of the tampering, and if that tampering can be reversed, or nullified, I shall be able to withdraw the sentence of exile.”

“What you ask is impossible!” Ahja laughed nervously. “it is hopeless, hopeless to even dream that such a thing could be ever accomplished.”

“Do not sell your capabilities short, Ahja. It is something that I think you should attempt. I have no doubt that given your motivation, and given enough time, you could accomplish what at this moment appears to be impossible. The problem as I see it is one of time. Even our closest allies question our motives for our prolonged stay in this quarantined zone, and we cannot stall for much longer.

“Allowing you the maximum length of time possible to return to Earth, and to carry out your investigation, we calculate that you should have one fulI Earth year. Ahja, my friend, I sincerely hope that this is enough time for you to accomplish the impossible. And think of the advantage that we would have if you were to return with the knowledge to erase a man’s memory as skillfully as it was done to you!”

Ahja studied the smooth face of the Lord Chairman with disbelief; now, he knew what Minje truly wanted— the knowledge that he hungered for. Minje was willing to sacrifice Ahja in the gamble to acquire that knowledge. How was it possible, Ahja wondered, that this man, whom he had considered his friend, could so easily commit him to a lifetime of exile? What good was the bastard’s friendship, or his regret?

“Ahja, when the Lodestar leaves this orbit, the Quarantine will be reset. From that time forward, as long as the Federation exists, Federation ships will be assigned to patrol this sector. Penal Colony Terra will never be disturbed again!”

Guakia Taino Yahabo

Welcome To The First Edition of The Modern Taino Dictionary

                       http://www.taino-tribe.org/tedict.html

I had always been taught the Taino were extinct, but I have since learned the people are very much alive. Today, I discovered the Taino language is still spoken.

The first edition of the Modern Taino Dictionary is online. It is a work in progress—constantly changing and being updated as is the dictionary of any other living language.

This new Dictionary of the Spoken Taino Language is available to anyone interested in the speech and culture of the Native American people who greeted Columbus to their shores, and faced extinction for their hospitality. 

As I explore the vocabulary of the Taino, I discover that for all my life I have known and spoken many of their words. Until today I did not know, nor did I understand they were words that formed an important part of my heritage—an unbreakable link to my past.

The Taino also live on in me, in the children I have born and in those I have taught.

This new knowledge brings tears of astonishment to my eyes.

I hope the spirits of my Taino ancesters will forgive my ignorance and accept my efforts to let all people know that We the Taino are still here; Guakia Taino Yahabo.