“You are fortunate to have an ally to aid you in this trial. I was briefed on the experiment before Prime Past took part in the initial experiment. Part of my duty was to observe him, since my normal duties involve routine observation of highly placed Alvian citizens.”
“Then you’re¾”
“Zxerah. The whole squad is. We are part of the ghost squadron, and you are among the very few to know that for certain outside the Council.”
Grady Prime was shocked. “I was going to guess ghost squadron. I’ll admit you’ve taken me by surprise with talk of the Zxerah Brotherhood. I thought they were only a myth from ancient times.”
“I can assure you, we are very real. All of us with wings are Zxerah. No winged soldiers exist beyond the Brotherhood, but there are more Zxerah who are unable to fly. The Patriarch authorized me to speak freely to you. For some reason, he believes you may hold the key to our future plans.”
“I’ve heard rumors of a ghost squadron. I discounted most of the wilder claims about them. Even the worst of the conspiracy theories never mentioned the Brotherhood. All Zxerah were supposed to have been lost before the migration.”
“Not all,” Sinclair Prime said. “A few survived to pass down the skills. It was the Patriarch who first put forward the idea of adding Avarel DNA to our line. A previous Patriarch had approached Mara Prime Past with the idea two generations ago. He was refused. The current Patriarch reissued the request once we awakened on the ship and the current Mara Prime agreed to try, with approval of the High Council. My squadron and I are the result. Other Zxerah were not given wings to act as a control group. They continue to live in a secret enclave.”
Grady Prime knew the history. The Zxerah were a warrior clan that had lived in a remote mountain region of the home world. They had not had contact with the outside world, but had allowed pilgrims to join their ranks if they proved worthy. They had lived ascetic lives, studying fighting and concealment arts day and night. They had been accredited with feats of skill, strength, endurance, stealth and bravery that were so fantastic as to be unbelievable. Most Alvians thought they had died off before the mass exodus from the home system.
Perhaps not. That there was a Zxerah Patriarch still living was incredible. All modern Alvians were separated by genetic lines, each holding a rank within their genetic line based on age, skill, accomplishments and other factors. Primes were the best of the best of their line. No line had a Patriarch. Such designations had died out as the geneticists took control of the vast majority of Alvian reproduction.
The Zxerah had always been different. If any group could retain their ancient identity, even with the changes wrought to all Alvian DNA, it would be them. Grady Prime also supposed that the Council liked having the Zxerah to use as a secret, deadly and highly skilled weapon. No wonder they let them keep their anonymity.
“I’m impressed and astonished,” Grady Prime admitted. “I thought the Zxerah were only a legend. But if any Alvian sought the power to fly, it would be the fabled Zxerah. I should not have been so quick to credit the scientists for coming up with the idea.”
“The Zxerah had the Avarel genetic samples. Avarel kept in contact with the Zxerah long after they’d cut off communications with the rest of our race. It is said the Avarel respected our ability to control our aggressive tendencies and our desire to seek enlightenment. The Zxerah embraced the genetic changes the geneticists proposed many generations ago, always looking for ways to improve themselves. The Patriarch told me he had begun to believe we’d gone too far. Control of destructive emotion is a good thing, so the ancient teachings say, but complete lack of emotion is not. The Patriarch had hoped the addition of Avarel DNA would return what was lost in addition to giving us the ability to fly. It worked to a very limited degree. As I said, we feel more than other soldier lines. It’s still not much. We don’t really understand humans at all, though we try.”
“Your revelations astound me.” Grady Prime wasn’t sure why he was being trusted with such sensitive information and was wary of it.
“I tell you this now, so you will understand what you see when you meet my men. We are all winged, and we are all Zxerah.” Sinclair Prime faced him in the small cockpit. “Mara Prime is our keeper, our observer. We also observe him, and many other top Alvians as part of our duty to both the Council and the Zxerah Patriarch. Our allegiance is to the Alvian race, not necessarily the Council. Too often of late, they have asked things of us, which make us uncomfortable. Capturing humans is one example.”
Grady Prime sighed with regret. “I have done my share of capture at their direction. My only defense is that I didn’t understand the implications of my actions. It is no excuse, and I will spend the rest of my days regretting what I’ve done to certain people.”
“I hoped you would say that. I must ask that if you do find Prime Past, you take that into consideration. It is my belief that he failed to kill his assigned target specifically for that reason. He was not a man who could miss a target. If he did, it was deliberate, and he had to have had a good reason for it.”
“You feel strongly about this,” Grady Prime observed.
“I do. Though the irony of your wording is not lost on me. It is because Prime Past was starting to manifest feelings that I believe he acted in such a way. I’ve had many months to think about this, and it’s the only conclusion that makes sense.”
“You understand I’ve been tasked to hunt him?”
Sinclair Prime nodded, turning back to the controls. “I do. I want you to find him, and will assist in that endeavor. What happens after that is up to you. I hope you will find pity among your new emotions. Prime Past deserves whatever happiness he can find in his new life. I miss him and his counsel. We all do. His departure brought echoes of sorrow to all Zxerah and especially to those of us with wings. He was the best of us and whatever his path now, I know he will live with honor. He is a great man.”
“Then why do you want me to find him? I’m ordered to kill him.” Grady Prime was blunt on purpose. He wanted to see how the new Prime would react.
“Several reasons. First, I want him to know what I’ve told you. He deserves to know that the Brotherhood, at least, has not abandoned him. Second, I’d like him to know that others have followed his path and taken the treatment that changed him so radically. It is my hope that you will find some common ground. Perhaps you could help each other.”
“You want us to become friends? Do you suppose sharing the burden of emotions will draw us together?” Grady Prime injected sarcasm into his words, trying to provoke the other man.
“I hope for that. Yes.” Sinclair Prime agreed, surprising him. “If your test group does well, more Alvians will undergo the treatment. It is what the Patriarch wants. My duty is to help Mara 12’s experiment succeed. I believe if you can discuss your condition with Prime Past, you may gain insight about how to move forward.”
The young man had nerve. Grady Prime would give him that.