And perhaps it was for the best, they didn’t deserve better. Even before Ra’a’zani came, Aileen learned on the streets of a slum city that humans will do anything to survive, she had done it herself. She killed and stole and lied to get food.
Dakar Vit’r’an turned around to face her. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes, Dakar.” Aileen responded.
“And his reaction?”
“He killed a slave that was nearby Dakar.” Aileen answered.
Dakar’s lips drew back in a Ra’a’zani smile. “So he was insulted? Good. Perhaps he will think twice before moving against me next time.”
Ra’a’zani society worked on principles of influence and a kind of twisted honor. A Ra’a’zani Taskmaster had tried to gain support and increase his duties on Earth, but by doing so he had encroached on the Vit’r’an’s territory. And as a retaliation Vit’r’an sent Aileen to deliver a message. It was a simple invitation to a meeting. But the retaliation was in fact Aileen. By sending her, a slave, Vit’r’an had insulted and degraded the Taskmaster. Soon, every other Ra’a’zani would learn about it and the Taskmasters influence would drop, effectively ending his plans for some time.
Even now, Aileen still didn’t understand all the aspects of their society. The way they moved up and down the society’s ladder seemed insane and illogical. But somehow it worked.
Dakar turned back to the holo, he pressed a few keys on the bottom of the holo and it changed to a series of reports. Vit’r’an locked his legs and started reading. Aileen steeled herself for another day of standing there unmoving as Dakar worked.
Chapter One
December 2170 – Sanctuary
Tomas Klein stood by a window in the Olympus palace receiving room, waiting for his guest to arrive. The room was bright, filled with warm colors, and had a homey feeling that came from its furniture. All of it was brought here from Earth, and was old even before it was loaded on a ship for a 60 year long trip. A bookshelf filled with real paper books lined one wall, real Persian carpet covered the floor. Wooden chairs and tables were placed in the middle of the room, two sofas and a small coffee table on the other side of the room close to the book shelf, and further behind them was the big wooden desk, similar in appearance to the Resolute desk used by the presidents of the United States, long ago. Tomas had it made long before Olympus ventured into space, and it was brought with them from his personal storage units. Tomas didn’t even know that it was here until one day he entered the room and found it inside. Anyone who entered the room would be very surprised at its appearance. There was no sign of technology there.
Looking through the window Tomas could see a big part of the Olympus city. It amazed him sometimes how fast it rose up. But then again with their technology the only limitation they had were materials. There were no politics, no need for endless bureaucratic maneuvering. They decided to do something and then just did it. Permission was given quickly and alternatives immediately suggested if for whatever reason something couldn’t be approved. And it showed. Fabricating technology meant that as long as they had the resources they could build anything in a fraction of time it would have taken anyone on Earth.
A ping on his implant informed Tomas that his visitor had arrived. He steeled himself and gave his permission. A moment later the doors slid open and his guest entered. He was struck with the visage of his visitor, even though it was not their first meeting. Lanai Sumia took a few steps in before she noticed the room and then stopped, she looked around at the objects in the room. Her hesitation gave Tomas time to observe her. Lanai Sumia was from a race called Nel, a race that Olympus met about a year ago. The first meeting was a shock to both parties, as they looked very similar to one another. Nel had gray colored skin, tails, talons instead of nails, and they had no hair on their body other than on the top of their heads. But those were the biggest differences. Sumia had long black hair, and her strange Nel eyes were light blue, speckled with many small black pupils that constantly moved. She wore a tight form fitting clothes with a kind of a coat over them that had short sleeves and fell down loosely to mid-calf length. She took a few steps toward the bookshelf, then reached with her hand and touched the hardcover of a book and then pulled back. She cast a hesitant look at Tomas as if she was asking permission. Tomas walked up to her, and then took the book she touched and offered it to her. Hesitantly, she reached for it, as if it was some great treasure. Slowly she turned it in her hands with an expression of awe on her face.
“I read about this, in the files your people translated for us. It’s how you used to record your history.” Sumia said in English, she had learned their language during her 10 month trip from Nuva to Sanctuary.
“Your people didn’t have anything similar?” Tomas asked.
She grimaced, her gray eyes dimming with sadness. “We had something similar, long ago. But my people are not like yours. We do not value things of the past, when something new and better comes along we discard the old. I believe that all the records we kept in a similar fashion were destroyed, when we switched to digital data storage. And our records are nowhere near as extensive as yours, we record only the most important events, things that affected our entire people, and our history doesn’t go nearly as far into the past as yours does. Of course we do record data concerning technology and laws. You on the other hand record every single thing, down to the smallest events of your history, you even keep records of things that you have long since proven false. I can’t imagine what it all could serve.”
“We have learned long ago that it is important to remember the past, the stories of our ancestors. It helps us avoid making the same mistakes.” Tomas said.
“Stories…” Sumia said, her strange eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have read a few of your fictional stories. They were… Interesting.”
“You don’t have stories? Made up stories I mean.” Tomas asked, intrigued.
“Not in the written form, and available to everyone. We have what we call Sufra Nim – family stories. Every family has them, and they are passed down from one generation to the next in oral form. Each generation adds something to it. It is a kind of family history. They are not shared with those outside of the family. And even those are not really made up, more something like embellishment of the truth.” Sumia said as she turned the big red book in her hands, studying the writing. Tomas could see that she was struggling with the artistic font the name of the book was written in, so he offered his help.
“It reads ‘The Lord of the Rings’. It is three books gathered in one big tome. You should read it, It is one of our greatest fictional works.” Tomas said.
Sumia narrowed her eyes, a gesture that Tomas learned was supposed to convey interest in something. “I don’t think that I am that proficient with your written language just yet. But perhaps when I feel confident enough.” She said as she put the book back in its place. Tomas moved his right hand over his chest in a Nel gesture that was meant to convey his acceptance and approval. He then gestured towards the two sofas. They sat opposite one another, with Sumia siting closer to the edge with her back straight to leave room for her tail.