Chapter 22

“No, no. You must button up the top button. Otherwise, you’ll look lazy,” Ramona chastised an uncomfortable-looking Paul.

“It’s so tight it’s choking me,” he said, tugging at his collar. “Something you should know, Progenitors do not wear formal attire. Too restricting in case of a fight, and it’s itchy.” Looking in a mirror, something unfamiliar stared back quizzically; a man dressed in a formal dark blue buttoned tunic, charcoal slacks, and shined shoes. “And I prefer black.”

“We’re not going to a funeral.” Ramona glared as she handed over some silver cufflinks shaped like little birds. “Besides, you want to look innocuous, don’t you? Roy has five children, so we don’t want them running and screaming at the sight of you.” She pursed her lips, admiring her handy work. Dress wasn’t exactly her specialty, but managing to make Paul look presentable was a small achievement. “And straighten up your posture.”

All last night, Paul dug through as many files, relating Roy Morrell, as possible. Most of which were news-net articles on the various heroic and humanitarian acts the man contributed to Kanchi. Public records were all clean, although, of course they were, not a speck of dirt tarnished Roy’s image.

Paul grimaced at the thought of exchanging pleasantries with the man, the enemy. And to what end?

Martha’s head poked in and said with a bright rosy smile, “oh, Mr. Paul, you look so nice.”

A smile cracked across Paul’s face. “You’re okay with your daughter subjecting me to this torment?” He said as he undid the top button and gulped a breath of air before abruptly his collar tightened back up by itself.

Martha stifled a chuckle. “How often do you think that girl really listens to me? And I think the shirt looks lovely on you.”

Hovering in the corner and somehow looking very sour, Eights beeped some ugly remarks.

"Even the drone realizes how foolish I look," Paul protested.

"Eights has no fashion sense. I once fit a little suit around his body; he looked like a mechanical salaryman. But was he grateful? No, instead he shredded it all off with a saw blade," Ramona said as she sifted through a closet, picked something out, and then handed Paul a suit jacket.

"I'm not a drone."

"Drones are like people. Yeah, sure, I know they aren’t really, but they can hold conversations, express the same emotions we can...they can be good company. That is if you take the time to teach them, which I do."

"Eights can only talk in drone-speak. How can it hold a conversation?" He asked, reluctantly slipping on the coat; it was a little tight.

"He-" Ramona stammered, "-speaks drone-speak because I think it’s charming...and plus there's no way I could fit a vocal processor in his little body."

With a grunt, Paul dismissed the subject. He looked in the mirror again, and he supposed that he did not look half bad. Though, he abhorred the restricting nature of the clothes. “Even an amateur could best me in a duel with these impairments foisted upon me.”

"Yeah yeah, just look in the mirror. See, you look like a million creds. Perfect for a quaint dinner party. I bet even my mom would agree, and she was never one for formal clothes," Ramona said cheerfully with an enthusiastic wink that made Martha giggle. Subtlety was not something the girl lacked, just something she chose never to employ for her own amusement, which generally meant embarrassing Paul in some fashion or another.

Paul glanced over at Martha, who didn't say anything but still maintained a warm smile. "Will you be joining us?”

"Oh no, I couldn't..." Hands waving frantically, face welling up red, "...I just don't feel comfortable letting others cook for me."

This disappointed Paul greatly, but he wasn’t all that surprised. By now, he knew very well how Martha would react, but he felt it was gentlemanly to ask anyways, or such as suggested by the text: Courting: Lessons for Absolutely Pathetic Beginners.

"What she means is, she doesn't want their germs," Ramona put in bluntly. "Same reason she won't shake anyone's hands, but that's all right." She stepped back to admire her handy work once again. "I think we're ready to go. Just, er...let me go get changed real quick." She scurried out of the guest room and into hers.

Paul used her absence to compliment Martha’s eyes and make small talk, as suggested from page two hundred ninety-five. Another page mentioned that using flowery speech could be used to augment adulations, thus giving them greater impact. Your hair cascades like a hazel river? Such talk sounded superfluous and disagreeable. Tempered courtesies sufficed, and in Paul’s mind, saying that a woman was “pretty,” was the highest blessing he could pay. But these experts knew best after all, and so he attempted the more poetic language. Martha giggled in response and stared back with pearl-like eyes of amber, perhaps expectantly waiting for more.

Minutes later, Ramona reemerged with a knee-length navy blue and white polka-dotted dress with a grey cardigan. Her pinkish blond hair was neatly brushed and looked bizarre without any specks of drone oil in it. Bright green eyes burning with determination, Ramona shouted, “all right, let's go make you some friends!"

Onesto’s nightlife was just beginning to wake up as the sun slowly drifted behind the horizon. Street vendors were being hauled in and parked in their respective spaces. Shop owners set out their banners and promotional signs. Early arriving customers began to gather at their favorite places before they were open, and the colored lights strung around the street remained unlit pending the coming night. Arts of Parts, however, sat locked up, windows dark.

The walk to the Morrell’s home was a short one, no less than a mile or two away from Ramona’s shop. Large yet humble, the house was located in a small gated community nestled within the city, certainly not the lavish style popular among Progenitors. Paul’s domicile was more like a fortress, hidden deep in the Nateerie wilderness and tactically constructed on a mountainside as to put any enemies at a disadvantage. The Morrell’s front door lacked the same oppressive fortified gates of Fort Tarseus, and yet Paul felt as if he was about to charge into battle when Ramona knocked on the door. A clamor of children’s squeals and hollers erupted from beyond.

“Hey, there they are!” A man with square lensed glasses shouted excitedly as he swooshed the door open. “Welcome, welcome!” He continued over the commotion of an undefined number of boisterous little girls and boys. “Ah- Paul, it’s good to see you again!”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Paul replied evenly.

“Please do come in and meet the family!” He stepped aside from the threshold, offering his guests welcome. His blue eyes beamed innocently, but telltale dark circles were apparent under them.

Tailing close behind Ramona, Paul stepped inside the house feeling like he had willfully stepped into the enemy’s crosshairs. The door closed behind them, there was no escape now. Paul leaned over to whisper in Ramona’s ear, “I forbid you to leave me alone with this man.”

Ramona just snorted in a very un-lady-like way.

“All right, kids, line up and introduce yourselves!” Roy shouted.

One by one, the children quieted themselves, though they jostled each other as they fell into formation: three girls and two boys, all with the same blue and dark brown eyes as their parents. Paul wondered how any parents could handle so many kids, especially considering what a handful one teenage Ramona was.

“My name is Tristan, pleased to meet you. I’m the oldest.” The tallest one spoke with a slight crack in his voice. He slapped his little brother on the back because he was fidgeting his hands.

“I’m John!” The younger boy shouted. He was no more than ten years old.

“My name is Anri Morrell.” She waved at Ramona with a big smile. Eleven, twelve years old, perhaps? Almost as tall as Ramona.

“Pan!” Another little girl shouted, giggling uncontrollably.

“I’m Lucy, I take care of my sisters. Hi Ramona!” She waved ecstatically. Lucy was easily the youngest, seven years old by the looks of her stature.

“And last but not least…” Roy stepped up and presented the woman next to him. “…my wife, Ann.”

“How do you do?” Ann waved gingerly with a smile reminiscent of Martha’s.

The house’s interior was just as modest as the outside. A heavy dark orker coffee table sat squarely in the center of an arrangement of hypion leather chairs and couches, beyond them was a stone fireplace with a warmly burning flame and a mantle decked with several holo-statues of various Amani ship designs. An open archway made way to the kitchen and dining room which were decorated in a similar style of earthy browns and creamy whites. Holo-prints of the children and family portraits adorned nearly every inch of the walls, there were even a few of a much younger Roy dressed in his military uniform.

Though even the tidiest households weren't free of evidential marks of its child inhabitants, residual marker stains were just noticeable despite fervent cleaning efforts, and toys littered a corner behind one couch, pushed aside with relative haste.

“Come sit with us, dinner will be ready in just a moment,” said Roy as his wife went into the kitchen. All three girls clamored around Ramona as she sank into their squashy couch. Anri began recounting old memories she’d shared with Ramona, but Paul averted his attention. Now it was time for him to put on the artificial charm Martha and Ramona had attempted to teach him. He was there, in the home of a direct enemy, and he swore to make the most out of his visit.

“Tired Roy?” asked Paul, ready to get down to business.

The man’s gregarious presence faltered, but only slightly. “Oh-well, my work requires a lot of my time. We’ve been on the hunt for that Tuyet Voi knight that decided to drop by a few months back.”

“The drones you bought. Did they work?” Paul said passively as he gently probed Roy’s mind for the slightest signs of deception. It was best to start with simple non suspect questions in order to establish a connection. Delicacy and patience was the name of the game; if Roy so much as expected he was being read by another Progenitor, then things would get messy, quickly.

“Oh yeah yeah, they were perfect! Lead me straight to him,” Roy said. “But unfortunately, he managed to escape. And you wouldn't believe how.” He paused for dramatic effect. “He had to crash an entire ship on me just to get away.” The man sounded absolutely delighted with himself.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“He what?” Paul wanted to know the tale despite himself. One story couldn’t hurt.

Roy chuckled. “Mostly luck really, though I won’t lie: my reflexes saved me from a chunk of ruble or two. I did get shot squarely in the chest though, lucky I had my body armor on, which I almost always forget to wear the darn thing. But unfortunately, the drones aren't helping anymore; the boy must have put his sword in a shielded container. Not to worry though citizen, we’ll find him.”

The conversation continued without incident. Roy recounted his battle with Abel in greater detail at Paul’s request. A most impressive duel, one for the history texts, but Roy had revealed a major weakness of his: he was merciful. Paul would use that to his advantage if he ever had to.

Over on the other couch, Ramona chatted away with the three girls sitting around her, and the two boys made loud rumbling sounds as they ran in and out of the room holding starship models overhead.

Dinner was set, reminiscent of all the meals Martha cooked, except with a much larger table and vastly more food. Bowls of sweetbread sat at each end of the table, another two serving plates held piles of yumanto pasta, and at the center on a serving platter was a grilled hizu fowl.

It took a full five minutes for Roy to round up his children and get them settled into their respective seats at the dinner table, it wasn't until Ann raised her voice that they finally quieted down.

"I just would like to extend my thanks to Ramona and Paul for entering into our home and filling it with their warm presence. Nights like these are what makes life worth living for!" Roy said, holding up a glass, then sipped the Varian red wine within.

The evening progressed nicely, Roy told many stories of his more active days as a Knight, “every morning we’d all wake up for breakfast, throwing ideas around, practicing sword techniques in the temple arena, talking about our loved ones and playing cards in the evening,” Roy said reminiscently. “The youngest in my command died later that month in a duel. Freshly knighted. He charged in to save some soldiers pinned down— a brave, selfless act.

He continued with his stories, yet he still managed to come off as humble through all his glorious tales. Paul had to bat down the urge to tell his own stories, for he had many and they were far more harrowing.

"So, Paul, what brings you to Kanchi?” Roy asked. “Our little city isn't much of a tourist attraction.”

"Oh, work-" Paul said, trying to improvise. Weaving a bit of truth with the lie was the way to go, "-and it's peaceful here, picturesque. Might even find a home here."

“Indeed, the homes here are affordable and well built, for the most part anyway,” Roy said. “Several years back a man named Fernan fell into some misfortune and was forced to sell his house…”

“This story again?” Ann cut in between mouthfuls.

Roy patted her shoulder and gave her a goofy grin. “...the only problem-” he continued, “-the home had a myriad of issues, rotted supports, water damage, exposed wires, you name it. Fernan couldn’t hope to afford repairs, so he simply lied to prospective buyers. Finally, a man named Hahns bought the home and was as happy as could be. But one day, the floors caved in under Hahns, and he fell into the basement.”

“I suppose the moral of the story is: Don’t believe everything you hear,” Paul said.

“Actually, Hahns, infuriated with Fernan’s deception, lured him back into the house and then burned it to the ground,” said Roy. “Funny thing, Hahns claimed he still would have bought the house even with all its defects. He just couldn’t stand the lies.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “Roy loves telling that story, right kids?” Lucy and Anri nodded in agreement without looking up from their plates. She leaned over to whisper to Paul. “Technically that’s just fiction.” But she said it plenty loud enough for Roy to hear.

"It was many moons ago, it could have happened,” Roy continued. “Don’t let any of that dissuade you. Onesto is a great place to live, very peaceful, far from the war. That's why I moved my family out here a while back. Though hopefully, one day we get to move to Califax. It’s a personal dream of mine, even further from this nonsensical war too. I mean honestly-” Roy continued after another sip of wine. “-Tuyet Voi Emperors are historically mindless brutes, yet they've managed to keep fighting for over three hundred years now."

Paul raised an eyebrow, so even the Amani understood the idiocy of the Tuyet Voi leadership. For years, he had heard nothing but obedient praise and unquestioned loyalty. To hear from someone else able to think for himself was...refreshing.

"But places like this, so far away. Many people live full, healthy lives without ever knowing there's a galactic conflict out there," Roy said. “People aren’t afraid, because they don’t know any better. One day a Tuyet Voi fleet could be in the sky, and people would think it was an alien invasion. I’ve seen Nefarous’ Indominus fleet firsthand, truly there is nothing more terrifying out there.”

Perhaps it was the wine, maybe playing the part of a commoner was too much for Paul’s pride, or it was simply hearing his name. His desire to regale Nefarous related war stories could no longer be repressed. “Indeed, I’ve read many news-net stories about the man. I heard he used his ship’s cannons to create an earthquake in order to collapse an Amani’s base shields…” Paul recounted some of his favorite triumphs and acts of cunning while taking care to make it sound like he had simply heard the stories from other people. In retrospect, the stories he told were bizarrely detailed for someone who supposedly was not there. But Roy paid no mind and seemed happy to listen intently.

"Nefarous has made quite a name for himself over the years,” said Roy between bites. “He's not exactly quiet about his opposition to the Emperor either. It's nice to talk to someone so up-to-date on real issues in the galaxy. I'd even say you're a Progenitor like me!" Roy laughed.

Paul shifted in his seat ever so slightly. A sharp jab struck his side, he had to stifle a grunt.

"Nah, I hear Nefarous is a bumbling blafhound!" Ramona started, and all five children broke out into giggles. She glared at Paul with a look that said: You’re an idiot.

"Right, why don't we talk about something other than the war?" Paul suggested.

"Have anything in mind? Oh, now have I told you about my little Pan yet?" Roy asked rhetorically with bright admiration. "She just turned nine and isn't she the cutest!" The cuteness of his daughter had surely shattered his humanity.

"Dad..." The little girl muttered with embarrassment.

Ann cleared her throat and shot a look at her husband.

"Ah- I'm sorry I get so carried away sometimes...just John here, ah okay, sorry I'll stop."

"Thanks, father..." One of the boys murmured.

The room fell silent with only the clanking of silverware against ceramic. Paul tugged at his collar; it was now or never, he had to discover Roy's connection to the Cathedral before dinner was concluded. He braced himself more carefully this time. "Well, what do you know about that huge building at the end of town?" He reached out gently, like threading a needle, with his senses again.

"That's the Cathedral, or that's what everyone calls it anyway. I think it has a more official name like: structure two-four-five." He scratched his chin stubble and adjusted his square lensed glasses. "I don't know much about it though, other than the Amani love to keep it well protected. Well, I heard the scientist studying it think there’s some inner sanctum. Huge energy readings come from within, but not a soul has ever been able to access it." He refreshed his glass with more wine.

"I've heard rumors that it's some sort of weapon," Paul added.

Roy narrowed his gaze ever so slightly, the dark circles under his eyes prevalent. "Now why would you think that?"

"Seems only natural. You said it yourself, the military guards it like a fortress."

Roy stared back a moment.

Heartbeat racing, Paul had just walked out in an open field declaring a duel on Roy. There was no turning back now.

"A fortress, you say?" He raised a subtle eyebrow but maintained his polite demeanor. "I wouldn't say that..."

"What would you say?" Paul asked, fully aware of the quiet sensation of being read. One stray question would be all it took.

"I would say I don't know anything about it, but what do you..."

"I really don't like that place Roy," Ann interrupted, her lips in a deep pointed frown, her stare was hard. "You say it gives you those nightmares..."

The room fell silent.

"Ann..." Roy started, looking embarrassed. He glanced at his children, who all looked concerned. Their father smiled and held out his arms as if to hug them all right then. "All right, I'm sorry, kids. Daddy forgets himself sometimes."

Anri blurted out something, and all the kids laughed, even Ann and Ramona couldn’t help themselves. Roy looked as happy as a man could be, despite the circles under his eyes.

***

"You are terrible at this whole undercover thing," Ramona said as they walked out into the cool night air and past the neighborhood gates.

"Maybe-" Paul said, "-I didn't get caught reading him, though it was close. But I did find out Roy's connection to the Cathedral."

"Which is?"

"There isn't one. He really has no understanding of what it is,” Paul said. "Did you see the circles under his eyes? The man doesn't sleep well because of the visions."

"But why would the Amani attack their own like that?" They rounded a corner, the Cathedral's great mass prominent even behind the city lights and night sky.

"Maybe they haven't learned to harness its power yet," Paul suggested. "But, it matters not, I'm still going to break in and pilfer what's inside. And I must admit something..."

Ramona eyed him curiously, then a sly victorious smile crossed her face; Paul knew the look well, so he hesitated to continue. Then she frowned and made her eyes sad like a loth pup, knowing full well it would have its desired effect.

"Very well,” Paul caved. “It would be a shame if Roy were to be in the battle."

"See! Isn't Roy and his family great?" The girl cast her hands up.

"I must admit they are very inviting people. It would also benefit me to not face such a strong opponent.”

"Then let’s see if we can’t make sure he’s off-world somewhere while you get into the Cathedral," Ramona suggested.

Paul smiled, excited to demonstrate he had planned ahead. "I already have something in mind; I may be able to tap his comms to deliver a false summons to the Amani station on the other side of the system. I could use Eight’s help, of course."

They strolled the street heading back to the shop. Street traffic was light this side of town. Flyers whizzed by, tallish buildings loomed overhead, the cool night air breezed gently. Paul smiled, just as Roy did. “So, given any more thought on traveling with me?”

“Hmm...I dunno,” Ramona said. “Sweeten the pot a little.”

She was mostly kidding, Paul knew, but he did have something in mind. “On top of training you how to fight, I will also teach you to fly starships.”

“NO WAY!” Ramona exploded, her green eyes beamed intensely.

Paul grinned triumphantly.

***

Early the following day, Ramona was downstairs sitting at her workbench, tinkering with the finer details of her large lifter loader drone she had been working on for a while now. She always felt happier meticulously constructing new machines, the whole process, start to finish, was always a tremendous fulfillment: designing and writing out holo-prints, selecting and buying parts, laying everything out in the shop, the whirring of power tools, solving unforeseen issues as they arose, watching finished creations light up to life.

Each drone was given an individual name and a unique personality matrix that she’d be able to mold organically. Every time one left the store under the care of a new master, Ramona’s heart would break just a little bit more.

Eights hummed something as it handed off a plasma torch to its master.

“Thank you, Eights,” said Ramona, taking the torch and igniting the super-heated blue flame.

Paul was upstairs getting some much-deserved sleep. It must have been a night free of premonitions, nights like that were in short supply and Ramona was beginning to worry. She hoped that soon they’d find Owlen, make him help gain access to the Cathedral, and then they could leave Kanchi and the terrible visions forever. Paul would train her to become a fighter, and she’d have vast resources to make whatever kind of drones she desired, plus the added bonus of learning how to fly. The near future was looking bright.

A knock came at the front door, Ramona peeked around the corner to see a tall silhouette standing beyond the glass. Looking up at the clock, it was still at least an hour until opening time.

“Who could that be?” She said, getting up to unlock the shop.

“Ramona!” Roy boomed. “Good morning!”

“Hey Roy!” Ramona replied with a surprised smile. “Good morning to you too.”

He beamed down through his square lensed glasses. “Dinner was wonderful last night! The girls loved having you there, Lucy couldn’t stop talking about those eyes of yours. But I think your friend Paul had a little too much to drink and went off and left his communicator at the house.” Roy held out the small round disk, a red light flashed, indicating that it had missed messages. “I would have waited until later to drop it by, but the thing has been ringing all night. It must be important. And no, I didn’t answer it, I may be nosey, but I’m not that bad, honest!”

“Thank you Roy,” Ramona said, taking the communicator.

“It was nice seeing you, Ann and I would love to have the two of you over for dinner again,” Roy said proudly. “And Ramona…” his voice softened. “You’re always welcome to come back to live with us. Ann and the girls miss having you around.”

An offer Roy made from time to time that never failed to make Ramona’s heart swell. She looked over her shoulders towards the upstairs threshold, then back to Roy. “I know...I miss them too. But, you know, I think I’ve got Paul to take care of me now. He’s even gonna teach me how to fly, showed me some of the basics yesterday.”

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Roy said with absolute sincerity.

They hugged and the two said their farewells, and Ramona locked the door back up. Smiling devilishly, she held out the communicator. “Roy may not be nosey, but I sure am.” She clicked on the playback, and the miniature hologram of a man sprang forth. Ramona’s smile faded, and her heart sank into the deepest pit of her being; she recognized the man instantly as Owlen Bek.

“Nefarous- “the hologram began to speak, “-there’s an emergency that could compromise everything we’ve worked for over the past months. I beg you, please answer your com.” That’s all there was, the hologram vanished, and Ramona dropped to her knees. How long she sat there on the floor with tears running down her cheeks she did not know.