CHAPTER 8
Yes sisters, pray to T'Chen as though your lives
depended on it, for they do. But that
alone is not enough. Even the Goddess
understands that two hands at work will rout a thousand clasped in prayer.
- Ampharix, 5369
at her senate coronation
Sarwin and Kleesic made their way across
campus toward Sarwin's office, fresh from the advanced quantum physics class
Sarwin had just taught. Sarwin carried a
heavy satchel in one hand, while scrolling through his crowded schedule on a
tablet with the other, occasionally glancing up from the slim device to see
where he was going. Fortunately, the
day was long and most of the students had fled the campus for destinations of
greater interest to young minds, so there were few people in their path for
Sarwin to blunder into.
Kleesic, Sarwin's oldest friend and
closest ally, walked next to him silently, looking from left to right and
occasionally behind, to make sure that no one suspicious drew near. Kleesic was very large for a male, even
bigger than most matrons. His bulky
size and strength, in addition to his purposeful and independent nature, made
him seem more feminine than masculine.
So much so, that there had long been rumors and gossip about his
preferences for years. Indeed, so close
were Kleesic and Sarwin during their adolescent years that some had suspected
of something unnatural between them, but Sarwin's later marriage to Siverelle
effectively ended such gossip.
Nevertheless, people still held
suspicions about Kleesic, because he had never married. Sarwin didn't know for sure himself, as
Kleesic never talked about such things and Sarwin never asked. Not his business, he figured. Even if it was true, Sarwin would not
care. His mind was not so small. His only real concern would be for his
friend's safety. Under the exacting
moral code of the church, preferring your own gender was a sure ticket to the
gallows. Although Kleesic was an
attorney by training and served as his friend's primary legal counsel, his
daunting size made him an intimidating bodyguard and he often served as such,
just as he did today.
Sarwin was a controversial figure,
lauded by the growing secular movement, but despised by the entrenched
theocracy. Death treats were so common
that he had a special file cabinet just for them. The law enforcement authorities, reporting to the
church-controlled central government, afforded little protection to Sarwin and
his ilk. Thus, Sarwin and his band had
to take turns watching each other's backs and someone was always assigned to
watch Sarwin when he was in public.
Kleesic fingered the laser torch
hidden under his jacket. It was
originally a construction tool, designed for cutting and welding metal, but it
had been illegally modified to project its searing beam for a much greater
distance than its initial design allowed.
Real weapons were only found among the police and military, so civilians
who needed to protect themselves had to make do with makeshift weaponry like
this. Still, it was a powerful
defense. Even if an entire phalanx of
knife wielding zealots descended on them at once, the torch could slice the lot
of them into neat chunks of chitera chow before they even got close. Kleesic had never fired the thing in
anger. He sincerely hoped he would
never have to. In addition to his
normally peaceful nature, he'd hate to explain to the authorities how he
acquired the torch. He glanced around
himself again. Still all clear.
"Relax, Kleesic," said
Sarwin, looking up from his tablet, "We're on campus. We're safe.
Those Scroll-clutching bastards would rather kiss a Vartyiar on the lips
than enter a bastion of reason like the Kreslar. They'd probably think the ground would sear their holy
feet." Sarwin chuckled quietly at
his own joke.
"Well, you could be
right," answered Kleesic, sniggering slightly also, "It's been a slow
week; only two letters threatening to kill all of us hell-bound heretics have
arrived in the mail."
"Only two?" asked Sarwin,
drolly, "Damn, I must be losing my fan club. I guess I'm not pissing people off the way I used to. I'll have to try harder, I suppose." He returned his attention to the
tablet. He scanned the device for a
moment, then "Damn it! I did it
again!"
Sarwin saw he had an appointment
that he had forgotten completely about and for which he was already almost an
hour late. It was with the student
named Etyiam who had applied to be his assistant. Sarwin was eager to fill the position, so someone could mind the
mundane but important aspects of his career, such as his damnable schedule,
which he seemed thoroughly incapable of organizing himself. He sighed in frustration and quickened his
pace. Kleesic hurried to keep up with
his friend. He didn't even have to ask,
he'd been through this routine many times before. His friend was notorious for rushing to late appointments.
Sarwin had already interviewed three
other students for the job, all of whom had seemed promising, but they each of
them withdrew their applications before he even made a final decision, with no
real explanation as to why. This left
Etyiam at the top of the list. He hoped
he had not lost her now too, due to something as stupid as his own
absentmindedness.
They cut across the hoverball field
as a shortcut to his office. Sarwin was
hoping she might still be waiting for him.
After rounding the corner of the gymnasium complex, the two gray-skinned
joggers found themselves approaching the science faculty building. Sarwin switched off the tablet, shoved it in
his pocket and dashed into the building, Kleesic at his heels.
As they approached his office on the
second floor, Sarwin was relieved to see a young female sitting on the bench in
the corridor outside his door. She was
dressed in the telltale black tunic of an honor roll senior, which Sarwin
thought looked sharp against her gray skin.
It was unusual to see a member of his own caste wear such a vestment and
it pleased him to see her in it. She
appeared lost in a book she was reading and did not notice his approach.
Sarwin cleared his throat and she
startled slightly, then she looked up at him with a look of surprise, which may
have been genuine or feigned, it was hard for Sarwin to judge. She quickly tucked the book into her bag as
if trying to conceal it, but not before Sarwin saw it was one of his early
books on time travel theory, written some years before.
"You are Etyiam," he said,
more of a statement than a question, "I am sorry that I startled
you."
"No-no, good professor,"
she responded, standing up, "I should have been more alert."
"You should have been asleep,
having had to wait for me so long," apologized Sarwin, with a smile,
"I am sorry I am late. Thank you
for still being here."
"Not at all, professor,"
she said, "You are very busy and I appreciate that my trivial schedule
must defer to your more crucial agenda."
"Thank you, but no need for
such flattery, Etyiam," replied the older Ordinary, "You'll find I am
less formal than most teachers here."
"As you wish, Professor,"
she answered, with a bit of a smile, "Besides, I have nowhere of
consequence to be today."
Sarwin reflected her grin while he
unlocked the door to his office and gestured inside. "Shall we?"
"Just a moment, please,"
piped up Kleesic. Although the girl
seemed harmless, he didn't trust anyone these days. He pulled a small gadget from his pocket.
"I'll just need a quick
scan," he said with a reassuring smile, holding up the device, "Only
take a second and won't hurt a bit. I
promise."
"Of course," replied
Etyiam, standing very still while he passed the scanner around her. It would detect anything hidden on her that
might have a nefarious purpose. The
device blinked yellow; all clear. He
showed the reading to Sarwin and then slipped the scanner back in his pocket.
"I'll go check around the
building," Kleesic said, "Let you two talk in private." With that, the big male strode off toward
the exit.
"Sorry about that,"
apologized Sarwin, watching his friend go, "Kleesic and I have known each
other since childhood. He is very
protective of me."
"I understand fully," said
the young student, "You are very lucky to have someone who cares for you
so. To the best of my knowledge, I have
no such person."
"I find that hard to
believe," disagreed Sarwin politely.
The girl seemed much too charming to be friendless. He gestured into the office again,
"Shall we get started?"
Etyiam entered the office and Sarwin
followed. He watched as she looked
around flabbergasted at the piles of books, papers and research equipment that
seemed to be strewn everywhere. Sarwin
had long wished that saurian academia would relent on its paper-based
traditions and embrace the electronic documentation that the rest of the World enjoyed. Just because some student hacker had
surreptitiously changed her grades over two hundred years ago and was
illegitimately awarded Foremost, to the great embarrassment of the Deans, paper
was now the only medium permitted in the universities. To Sarwin, it only exemplified the glacial
pace of saurian social change.
Computers had been available for generations, yet he was still compelled
to grade paper tests by hand.
"As you can see, I am in
desperate need of someone to help me organize.
I am so busy these days that I hardly have time to spend more than half
an hour a day here. I throw things down
without time to file them, then curse when they are nowhere to be found,"
he said lightheartedly to the young student, "Please have a seat, if you
can find a chair."
Despite the professor's slight jest,
there was an empty chair quite available in front of his desk, which Etyiam
sunk down into. Sarwin picked a pile of
long overdue to be graded papers from his own chair and looked around for an
empty spot to place them. Not finding
one, he placed them on top of another pile of even more past due term papers,
then sat down in his chair. He fumbled
through his satchel in hopes of finding her application. As he feared, it was nowhere to be
seen. It was either back at his home,
or worse yet, irretrievably lost somewhere in this cluttered mess.
"I don't seem to have your
application with me," he apologized, shaking his head in frustration with
himself. "I'm sure it will turn
up. Perhaps you and I can just talk for
now and get to know each other."
"Of course, professor,"
she said, while quickly producing a folder from her own, neat satchel,
"but I have an extra copy of my application with me, if you would like
it." She offered the file to her
elder.
"Quite right," said
Sarwin, trying not to sound as impressed as he felt, "Thank
you." He took the file from her,
placed it on his desk and opened it.
Indeed, her application was there, as neat and flawless as he
remembered. He still wished he had his
original copy, with the notes he had written on it. Probably couldn't read my own handwriting anyway, he mused to
himself.
After looking it over in silence for
over a minute, he finally said, "So I see you were raised in a T'Chen
orphanage." It was a statement,
not a question, but Etyiam answered anyway.
"Yes, my parents abandoned me
at birth. I was very lucky to have
found such a good surrogate home."
"I'd find it hard to believe
that someone could be raised by the T'Chen church and not be influenced strongly
by its tenets," he said, "Such persons are often set on a path toward
the priesthood."
The young student seemed unfazed by his vague allegation. "I set my own path, good professor," she replied, "it is not dictated for me. There was a time when I considered the priesthood. Of late, I have begun to think there may be more interesting ways to spend one's life. That is why I sit before you now. I do hold my own spiritual beliefs, but I do not let them rule me."
Sarwin liked what he was
hearing. "No doubt you must yet
have close ties with the church," he challenged, "many friends
there. I'm sure you are aware of
the... disagreements... the priesthood has with me. Have you not considered that working with me
will cause you trouble?"
Etyiam shook her head. "That is not of my concern,
professor. If anyone who knows me would
reject me for the company I keep, then I have no use for them either. I accept that the price of a free mind is to
sometimes stand alone. Most of the
people I have met in the church are afraid to stand alone. I think most are incapable of it."
"You could be
excommunicated," he pressed, "just as I have been. Even if you don't care about the spiritual
aspects of being cast from the choir, there is a price for that in the material
world also. Many doors would be forever
shut to you." He wanted to make
sure she knew what she was getting into.
"I understand, professor,"
she replied, "I have given this much thought and am prepared to make any
sacrifice. As a fellow Ordinary, you
understand that my future is already limited.
What care have I, that I might imperil such meager prospects promised to
me? It is wise to risk it by seeking
better, don't you think? I believe I
will fare better with those who are astute enough to look beyond caste and
color."
You just might, at that, thought
Sarwin. He had to admit, he was
impressed with this one. "You
realize how demanding this job will be," he countered, "I have a new
time travel expedition in less than two months time."
Year 5456. Month of Cartoth. Day five. Seventeenth
hour.
He stopped and shook his head to
ward it off. The girl noticed.
"Professor?"
"Nothing," he continued,
"Sorry. Anyway, I have a thousand
things to do to prepare and I will need much help. You would need to manage my insane schedule, help me secure
funding, help me battle those damnable politicians who want to stop me
and" he looked around at the formidable stacks of documents that surrounded
them both, "grade papers for me."
The young student gave Sarwin the
most earnest look he thought he had ever seen.
"It would be my honor to serve you, sir," she said.
With that look, Sarwin decided,
perhaps impulsively, to give her the job right then and there.
"If I were to offer you the
position," asked Sarwin, "When might you be able to start?"
"As I said, good
professor," said the young girl with a smile, "I have nowhere to be
today. I believe you are attending a
lecture this evening at the science foundation."
Sarwin was astonished. He had forgotten about that appointment
also.
"If you like," she
continued, "I can organize your office here a bit while you are away this
evening and then continue the job tomorrow.
I don't think you will be disappointed in me, good professor."
Sarwin beamed at the young student. He felt sure he could never be disappointed in this one.