Entangled: Transmutation, #4

By Alice Sabo

While Elaan deals with the influx of Iguacans from all over the Four Rings, pressure continues to build from Centralplex. She knows that just being safe is not enough for her people.

 

Ripples and rumors about them have reached the Delta Quadrant with dangerous consequences. More now than ever she needs the guidance from her advisors of all species to balance the threats, political and physical. And somehow, she must still keep their true nature a secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice Sabo
• Release date: Jul 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201889692

Alice Sabo

Alice Sabo is the author of over 25 novels in 7 series. Her character-driven stories range across multiple genres including science fiction, post-apocalyptic, high fantasy, mystery and contemporary fantasy. Whether seeking lost cultures in an unforgiving galaxy or fighting the Darkness on the streets of the city, her books have strong world building, multi-layered characters and a satisfying culmination.

Book preview

Chapter 1   

Elaan inspected the Ceremony Room admiring the new House symbols on the wall behind the dais. This big old stone building was beginning to feel more like a seat of government now. There was a consistency to their actions instead of the hectic scramble to make up something on the spot. They’d managed to get past the fear and move on to preparing for a brighter future.

They had welcomed in the Iguacans from Ranbek in a lovely ceremony that seemed to have impressed Pasrak. His was the mind she had felt long ago on her wild flight to find her people. That chaotic journey had nearly killed Trash and exposed the secrets of her people. She felt ashamed and embarrassed when she thought of her recklessness. In the steamy jungles of Ranbek, Pasrak had rejected her. So much had changed in such a very short time. She had changed, grown, and learned some painfully hard lessons. Somehow, he must have felt that and decided it was time to join with her here in Clouded Vale.

As another neft of Crintaal, she felt pressured and supported by him in equal measure. Pasrak was a powerful ally, but one who would judge her every step. He was older and had dealt with a difficult environment, but she wouldn’t accept his guidance blindly. The UCFS was not Ranbek. There were many more parts moving, spiraling, imploding at all times, but she was grateful for his input, all the same.

Pasrak’s arrival had brought up some questions she had hoped to put aside for a while. They needed to look at how they should structure their government, and to reassess the role by gender classification. Did being neft automatically make you suited for management on all levels? Because Terrance was doing very well as Preceptor of the House, and he was nim. In comparison to Kej, a neft, who was ill-prepared to be in charge of anything more than causing mischief. It was an odd line to draw simply based on biology, when the rest of their structure was based on skills and inclination.

They had questioned whether the Houses were a construct of the Surentai. Now she wondered if the role by gender was another part of the ancient internal structure that had ultimately poisoned her people and forced the narass to rise against them. They had to return to the true path. As a child found their House, perhaps they also found their strengths. She thought of Leaf, a neft, and yet so fragile she doubted she could organize her day much less a House. Or Alexander, another nim, large, powerful and an excellent Preceptor for Wencet. They had to put aside preconceptions and adapt to the current reality but sweeping aside ancient conventions left people feeling adrift.

And this new reality that had her constantly questioning everything they did was causing more problems than it was finding answers. Should her people adopt the roles that narass used until they could figure out what worked for Iguacans? Should they use what was familiar despite knowing it was wrong? She didn’t want them to fall into a rut of using whatever worked for the moment until it catastrophically didn’t. Everyone was getting tired of making things up on the fly. And as things got more complicated with the UCFS and Centralplex, that was becoming dangerous.

She headed up to Laon’s meditation room for her daily session of trying to unpack some of what Dannel had stuffed into her brain. There were centuries of knowledge there for her to use if only she understood how to access it. With Laon’s patient guidance, she had stopped trying to find answers, but now looked for what felt right. Taking the memories in small doses was working better for the most part. Every time now, she was able to discover another small nugget of random information. Those strange facts may or may not be of any use in her current situation, but she felt that she was achieving more in her understanding of their history. She kept a notebook with her to note down everything she accessed. Sometimes it was so obscure, she couldn’t see the significance but knew that all knowledge was important.

At the end of yesterday’s session, Laon had requested that she think about declaring a day of the week for religious observance like most other species had. At first, she’d put it aside as a low priority, but when she had a chance to think it through, the significance became obvious. Her people had become monsters when they had lost their place in the Web of Life. By creating a weekly reminder to enter the Web and experience its awesome beauty, she hoped to keep her people on track. And it made them more like other species with their religions and celebrations which always helped.

Laon greeted her as she entered the meditation room but did not press her. She appreciated his patience. He knew that she would consider all of his suggestions. The room was quiet, as usual, but birdsong coming through an open window lifted her spirits. Quieting her noisy thoughts, doubts, and worries, she composed herself.

Laon turned to her with a smile, feeling her readiness to converse.

I think you are right, she said sharing the memory of the request with him.

He nodded respectfully. We must build a healthy society that polices itself.

Do you want to hold some sort of service somewhere?

I think the Ceremony Room would be the best. With our House Symbols before us, it makes a pleasant place.

She let him feel her agreement. What day of the week?

I have looked at several planets and their various religions. In many of them, the day of worship is also a day of rest. We can make ours a day of family and personal pursuits.

That makes sense, she said.

It will add structure to the rest of the week as a side effect. Having one day every week for oneself is a luxury that we desperately need, he said.

Elaan agreed with that wholeheartedly. The thought of having a whole day to meditate, relax in the hot pools and spend time with the people that she cared about sounded too good to be true. She sensed that this could be especially important for her people. It was one of the missing elements that would round out their lives, ground them in the goodness of the Web. What about conflicting schedules with other narass religions?

We will make the sort of accommodation that others have. If they prefer to work on our observation day, they must accept that we will not be available for meetings or discussions. As we will not expect them to work on their observation days. It is no different than other species and perhaps will be reassuring to them.

Do you have a recommendation for a day? she asked.

I think Firstday is best.

The start of the week?

How better way to begin? he said with a smile.

Will you draft up an announcement for Terrance to circulate? she asked.

I’d be honored.

She knew the conversation was done. That was another benefit of a telepathic society. Laon had signaled completion and she was free to go on to the next thing. She settled in her favorite corner and opened herself to the Web of Life. The immensity of it was overwhelming and yet the sense of inclusion so enthralling. She felt the connections to all of her people, the narass friends and employees of the Embassy, the animals and living things of the planet. Her place in this dancing swirl of life force was miniscule, but just as important as the next. They created a stunning tapestry of life, and each dot anchored a tiny piece of it.

Her time spent in meditation always refreshed her. She went to her office ready to face the new troubles of the day.

Chapter 2   

Trash struggled to keep his ears relaxed and his horns up, but the inspector was coming awfully close to finding out firsthand how sharp Cazak horns were. They built it, he insisted.

The inspector from the Mycastrian Condrisite Mission was adamant. It is unacceptable that they are forced to live in subpar conditions.

You aren’t listening, Trash said gritting his teeth. The inspector was looking at him as if something very shady was going on. They were given many choices. They chose that room. They were offered furniture, and they built that hive instead. We did not make them do it. He had been just as surprised as the previous inspector had been when they had found the strange structure in the top room of the North Tower on the last inspection. That peculiar discovery had taken a couple of weeks to percolate through the Mycastrian bureaucracy before someone came back to take issue with it.

The inspector made copious notes on his hand link before frowning at Trash. I will need to see it myself. They don’t build these things on their home planet.

Trash led the way to the elevator. He had a bad feeling about this. Of all the things piling up on his desk, dealing with how the Mycastrians felt about the Embassy’s Condies felt like a waste of time. They are happy here, he insisted as the elevator doors closed.

How do you measure that?

The Iguacans can feel their emotions.

The inspector’s frown deepened. We have never been able to measure an emotional scale for them.

Hunter says they are like bees and share thoughts on a certain wavelength.

The inspector snorted his disbelief. They are much smarter than insects. Perhaps this structure is a sign of stress.

Trash forced himself to silence for the ride up in the elevator. He knew he was losing this argument because he didn’t have the proper jargon to contradict a science-based assumption. In this case, he thought that it was all emotion and that the Mycastrian bureaucrats would never understand it.

The doors opened on the top floor, but Trash put a hand out to stop the inspector from leaving the elevator. Hello? he called out. May we visit?

The inspector scowled at him again as if he’d done something inappropriate.

An Arrow of Condrisites formed in front of the doors. Trash noted that it was a much longer one than the usual five. Eleven this time. He wondered if that was welcome or security.

Good morning, Trash said congenially. This is the inspector from the Mycastrian Condrisite Mission. He is concerned that you are not happy in this space.

A deep buzz grew in the air, putting Trash’s teeth on edge. There was a definite aggression to it that had him tipping his horns forward again. He forced himself back to calmness. Three more Condrisites arrived, but there was something different about them. Trash thought they were slightly larger, and they each wore a green ribbon on one ankle. They came into the elevator forming up to include Trash and the inspector as a unit of five and then led them out.

He took a more careful look, noticing that the head of the arrow was half a head taller than the others and had 2 ribbons, one green and one blue. He led the way to the peculiar structure. Trash had seen it not long ago, but it had definitely gotten bigger. It was made out of a papery substance like a wasp nest, but strong enough to bear the weight of several stories in height. It had grown in a geometrically pleasing progression up to the high ceiling of the tower room.

Where did this come from? the inspector demanded.

They built it, Trash snapped, tired of repeating himself.

That’s not possible.

You are an idiot, Trash said angrily. Look at this. It is a sophisticated structure planned and built over a period of time. Only the Condies are up here. They built it. They like it, and that’s the end of it. He tapped the leader on the shoulder. We will leave now. I think your home is beautiful.

The tone of the buzz changed. A few small hands patted Trash gently. The leader turned the Arrow to take them back to the elevator.

I haven’t finished my inspection, the inspector complained as the back of the Arrow pushed him along.

What is your Mission supposed to do? Trash asked.

Protect the Condrisites from abuse.

Trash dragged the inspector back into the elevator as two Arrows of eleven lined up in the hall. Are you abused? he asked those assembled hoping for a least a shake of heads.

No, said the beribboned leader.

The inspector gasped.

There’s your answer, Trash said. Good day. He closed the door and sent the elevator down.

It spoke, said the inspector in a shaky voice.

Yes, Trash said as if he’d seen such a thing before. It was very surprising. His ears were quivering, so he gave them a good shake. And you need to leave them alone.

I must have a sample of that structure.

Why?

It needs to be analyzed.

Why?

To help us better understand them. They do not do this on their home world.

Don’t or can’t? Trash asked pointedly.

The inspector blinked at him. We provide them with everything they might need: housing, furniture, clothing, food. Everything is scaled to size and appropriate for their species.

Who designs it?

We do, of course.

Those last two words made Trash want to lower his horns again. You underestimate them, he grumbled.

The elevator opened to show them two Arrows waiting. When they stepped out, Trash was gently cut out as the Arrows forcefully escorted the inspector to the exit. Their unusual behavior left Trash with disturbing thoughts.

Chapter 3   

A large orange tabby cat sat on Hunter’s desk. He didn’t know who it might belong to and wondered if he should ignore it or find the owner.

I don’t know what you want, he murmured as he tried to get back to work. He emptied the day’s mail out of his in-box. The cat immediately got into the box as if it had been waiting for him to do just that. It was a bit of a squeeze, but it settled into a ball and went to sleep.

Hunter leaned back in his chair to go through the mail. He’d found himself making all sorts of accommodations lately. Giving up his in-box up to a cat seemed the least of them. Life kept taking sudden turns without warning. He was supposed to be an advisor, but with every crisis being unprecedented, it was hard to call on any of his experience in Galactic Intelligence. He worried that Elaan would want someone with different experience to take his place.

Trash entered the office looking troubled.

Problem? Hunter asked.

I think this is one of those times when a walk would be appropriate, Trash said in a low voice.

Hunter firmed up his mental barriers as he joined Trash. They didn’t speak until they got to the front plaza. Despite his concerns, this was familiar, and he was glad for Trash’s company. What’s happened? Hunter asked.

The Mycastrian inspector angered the Condies, Trash said slowly as if picking his words carefully. His silent ear swung sideways telegraphing his unease.

That takes some doing, Hunter said. The sweet natured Condrisites had never shown him anything but friendliness. He couldn’t say that he’d ever seen them angry.

Have you been up to see their nest? Trash gestured at a trail that would take them around the agricultural fields.

Hunter would have chosen the forest path but knew that Trash preferred open spaces. It would be a warmer walk, but that was another thing that Trash would prefer. No, I haven’t had a chance to go up there, but I heard it was impressive.

Very much so, Trash said. They’re changing.

Is that a problem?

Trash’s ears semaphore oddly. I don’t think so. I think that the Mycastrians are containing them somehow on Condrisa. What they think is best for them isn’t what they actually need or want. That’s why so many are coming here. They can do what is in their nature without their guardians trying to take away their horns.

Hunter thought that through. Trash’s metaphors didn’t always translate well, but from the ear-action, he could tell that Trash was deeply concerned. What makes you think that the Mycastrians want to take away their horns?

The inspector. He wanted to cut out a piece of the nest for analysis. And he kept saying that it was subpar. And why didn’t they have furniture? He wouldn’t listen to me when I said it was how they wanted it. He made it seem like we had forced them into something unreasonable.

How did the Condies react? Hunter asked.

They gathered around him and made him leave.

Which the Mycastrians will say we somehow instigated because we are using them to our own advantage. I think we’re missing something important here. Hunter was intrigued. They are acting out of character, but perhaps, under the Mycastrians, they haven’t been truly themselves.

What do they do here? Trash asked softly.

Whatever they want, Hunter said with a shrug.

Right. They have no actual duties. And the embassy gives them free housing and food...

Well, I guess we feed them. I’d have to ask Fistar about what they actually eat. Because I don’t think... Hunter let the sentence hang. He and Trash had rounded a corner to come upon a strange sight. The Condrisites