Jurr’Hrath

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

A Republic of Earth Story

Chapter One

It was that dream again. Fitfully the lithe feline attempted to wake, knowing full well she wouldn’t until this dream had again run its course. Jirr’Hrath, her last formal combat to save her beliefs, her place in her clan. Her last chance to avoid becoming a Wanderer.

When the light rose enough to see she found herself facing her judges. An ancient, well respected male Sarin was standing before her. He was but one of several. “M’nee. Thou art aware these complaints?”

She saw herself again standing before council, still alone. “Truth I am” she heard herself answer for the... how many times had this dream come to her? “I hold to my beliefs.”

“As well you have. Your arguments have been eloquent. Your facts though meager are strong. Young as you are it is possible you may be somewhat in error. Still you will not yield?”

“I will not.” The platform she stood upon turned one click, an even older female faced her this time.

“Sarin are related to Yarsh” the woman stated, as though the facts were carved in stone high upon Mount H’dalechi. “Collector interference split our races.”

“It is true Great one” she responded. “That Yarsh and Sarin share much in physical shape. It is true our DNA is very close to Yarsh in certain places. It is false that we are in any way related. We share less with the Yarsh than Human’s share with Centauri.”

“Centauri and Human are physically alike” the old woman reminded her. “Sarin and Yarsh are physically alike. Yet we are not cross fertile. Explain.”

‘Again’ she thought. ‘I must again re-walk the path’s of scientific and religious deduction that had brought her here.’ “Any feline race will share certain traits. Yarsh and Sarin are not cross fertile in any cases, though Human and Centauri are cross fertile. Were we of the same species, no matter how far back a split had come as long as it came within this branch, we would be completely cross fertile. As are Bridell, Centauri and Human. Bridell and Human split seven thousand years ago. Bridell Eleven thousand years ago yet all three are still cross fertile. Though Bridell cross breeds are not fertile. We are anti-fertile with the Sarin. All attempts of cross breeding our races has resulted in near instant rejection.”

Her platform turned again without warning. She faced another male, this one a little younger. “We are from a different reality, having fallen through a rift while en route to colonize a new planet” he said. Again as if his words were in stone carved.

“No. This is proven by our own sciences as wrong. There are fossil remains traceable back millions and millions of years. We are an old race yes. We are not from some other reality. Our basic DNA patterns have been located in several of the Galactic ‘River of Life’ cometary bodies which traverse not only this solar system, but the Yarsh system as well. Had we been from another reality our basic DNA patterns could not exist in such a body.”

She was turned again, another faced her now. “You then deny the Collector race?”

“No Great One. There are too many solid proofs of their existence. What troubles me is there are no proofs that they predate us and have gone on, are with us today or are from some future yet to be. What proofs there are they are incontrovertible. They have taken life forms from many planets between three thousand and one hundred million standard years ago. No life forms they have taken have ever advanced beyond Tech Two, as evidenced by the planet Uliah just two systems from us. Each planet they have colonized has a large, easily located structure of their making prominent upon it or in orbit about it. Neither our world nor Tov have such structures. Nor have such structures or evidence such structures ever existed been found anywhere in either system.”

Turned again...

“Your words are pure, your logic impeccable. Yet could not such a structure have been removed, perhaps by creatures such as the Soma?”

“Great One. Soma are well known to be meddlesome creatures. Born along with our Galaxy, so it is said, they have become bored. As bored creatures are they often meddle in affairs not of their creating simply to inject color within their own faded existence. It is true that the Soma could do so, yet there is no evidence they have ever interfered with any Collector action. Perhaps they agree with the Collector goals, consider them unimportant, are unable to affect such actions or at some time were or will be the Collector race themselves. This is a question best studied by one much more learned than myself.”

Turned again....

“You fear the Soma. You have proof or suspicion they have removed such evidence.”

“No Great One. Soma are as a breath of life, or death. They are as life, as death. They are. I fear nothing I cannot affect for being unable to affect it I am unable to change its course. Soma are Soma. Yarsh are Yarsh. Sarin are Sarin. Had I evidence, proof or suspicion that such had been done I could not stand before you, knowing my future is in your paws. I could not defend a lie.”

The long reverse turn came, she was finally facing her first questioner. “Your convictions are unshakable. Your facts strong. Your logic almost Bridell in its purity. Yet your words ripple discord through our people, through our councils. Clan leaders have expressed concern that your words may bring about a discord that they will be unable to control. Have you any suggestions of how to calm this?”

“I have no answer Great Ones. I have no remedy. I place myself within your paws.”

“Accepted. This was your best path, that you take it willingly proves your convictions. Your Clan raised yet another great thinker. Yet you cannot remain on Somanal, for your ideas are simply too radical at this time. Without proof they may prove the destruction of our society. So you shall find your proof. Once you have done so you shall return to us, present it and be welcomed. Still though all Somanal are called home to Clan at one time or another, you may not return without proof. Therefore it is the decision of this Council that you shall publically be branded Kamal. One who has been declared cut off from the protection of not only his or her own Clan, but of all Clans. The sentence is of exile only. This is your public face. Your private face is that of investigator for this Council. You shall send reports, as you need, directly to each of us. No one may know the truth, for in Honor here we all walk the rotted mountain path. One misstep by any will be the downfall of all.”

She felt the blood drain from under her facial fur. “Kamal” she croaked, stunned nearly beyond words. “Exiled.”

“Kamal” the elder male repeated. “You shall attend the Republic’s Space Academy. I have studied our records young one. You are a fair pilot already for one so young. Brilliant, yet somewhat reactive. Had you come to your elders before making your thoughts public many other paths would be open. It is, I fear, Kamal or death. Your theory is too important for death, nor have you violated Honor. Your outward face will be Wanderer, your inside face researcher. Go where you will, only never step aboard a Somanal ship, planet or instillation again until you have presented your proofs. It will be difficult for one so young. It must be done. A shuttle awaits you now.”

“My name?”

“Your name is stripped most certainly. Your clan., Your rank. All things. Take for yourself a non-Somanal name of your choosing. It is not unknown to happen, nor will it be difficult to manage. Humans prefer easy names. Bridell’s will not question. No others will even try to understand.”

She lowered her gaze, almost unconsciously reaching up to grasp the Clan pin on her chest. Moments later her rank pin, low as it was, clattered to the stone floor. Her Clan pin soon followed, both sending a tinny metallic clattering sound out, to be swallowed by the room. Still stunned, now feeling more like a wrung out washrag than a Somanal Temple Researcher she turned to a waiting guard. An hour later she found herself headed for Earth.

And woke up, fur plastered tightly against the fel beneath. Reaching up she rubbed her face, waking herself fully. It came rarely now yet each time it came the dream was as heart ripping as before. Each time it meant a change in her life, but what this time she wondered. Simply moving from ship to ship no longer triggered that dream, so what could it be? Throwing off her sheet, for Bridell ships were kept as warm as her own Clan lands she swung her legs out, her padded feet touching the deck of her shared room. “Samuel. May I know please the time?”

“Ships time: 0317 hours Diana” the ships computer answered. Like many sentient, non-Bridell beings she had given the ships computer a name, something none of the crew had bothered to do. It made things easier for her.

“Lights, thirty.” she responded. “My thanks Samuel” those words her code to end her computer communication. Standing fully Diana T. Chi looked about her. They were half an hour from Stronghold Three where she would disembark. New orders would be waiting for her of course but she could spend moments or months waiting for her new ship. If months there would be classes, makeshift duties and inspections. She really hated inspections, they wasted too much time. In a month she would be re-enlisting, another five year tour. It would be her third enlistment. Ten years in space, fifteen since her departure from Somanal. Her travels in this Bridell Science ship had proven useless for her quest. Bridell’s rarely investigated anything ‘interesting’ and when they did her position was almost always much too low to leave ship. That’s what you got serving aboard a ship where the average crewman’s age was three times your own.

Walking over to the rooms small food unit she selected her morning meal. Niltarr was more a mid-day or evening meal but she had missed all food yesterday, being grilled by the Captain about her knowledge. It was after all for her annual performance review. Problem was, she inhaled the delicate scent of her newly warmed meal, Bridell’s took it to heart. At least this time there had been no Somanal serving aboard. To stare at her, wondering, then slowly understanding. After that the hate came, though Wanderers could no longer be killed upon sight, they were still not accepted. Not by full bloods. Those raised away from her home system had proved different, they themselves understood what it was to be between worlds.

She ate standing as Bridell chairs were not designed for creatures with tails and she hadn’t felt like complaining, not after the disapproval her Captain had expressed about modifying the helmsman’s seat. At least, she thought it over, it had seemed disapproval at the time. Now she understood it was simply Bridell. They were not emotionless after all, but their sense of humor was extremely strange. Behind her the door hissed open, its sound causing her ears to twitch.

“I was not aware that you now take your meals at this time” her roommate said. “Shall I return later?”

“No Meg, I didn’t eat yesterday so I woke hungry. Its unusual for me to eat at this time.”

“Very well” the door hissed closed as the older Bridell entered. “You were tested yesterday.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

“Yes. I feel my abilities proved adequate. At least the Captain didn’t have my pelt removed to make a jacket for his wife.”

“Your humor is much like a Terran born” Meg noted. “You are of course correct. Adequate. Else the Captain would have relieved you of all duties. You have packed?”.

“Last night, while you were on duty. Didn’t want to bother your meditation or cost you any sleep.” Bridell took for granted that they were an offshoot of the human race, removed by the Collectors. They were the only Collector selected race to have ever advanced beyond tech two, having already explored their own system when the first Republic ship arrived. They had even adopted Earth style names, though only for interaction with non-Bridell peoples. Among themselves they kept their descriptive birth names. Megs real first names was, Diana knew, translated as “Having Found My Way Through Caverns.” What it meant she never asked. True names were private among Bridell.

Meg barely nodded her thanks for the consideration. “I thank you for your concern. You have been an... Adequate roommate. Your studies have proven fruitless. Have they not?”

“You noticed” Diana sighed, setting her bowl and spoon into a bag for later recovery. Certain that no food remained upon her muzzle only then did she turn to face her roommate. “I did have time to close down many dead ends though.”

“You did not waste time then. That is useful.” Meg began undressing, ignoring the naked Somanal watching her. They had both ceased being body modest between themselves. It simply wasted too much time. “Your new ship is?”

“That Meg I do not know.” She accepted Meg’s clothing one piece at a time, carefully folding each piece so she could fit them into the dirty clothing hamper. “I am hoping for a Republic Survey ship this time.”

“There is a Somanal science ship at this station” Meg reported as she handed her last bit of clothing over. Both knew that was a warning, not a suggestion. “I would remain low board until it leaves. Then normally I do not much like being around Somanal’s myself.”

Diana pressed the hampers switch one last time, watching as Meg’s clothing was vacuum packed to reduce wasted space until it could be washed. Picking up a waiting package she handed it to Meg. “I’ll take that under advisement.” Picking up her uniform she began to dress, taking time to insure her skirt was more than long enough this time. “I will remember you.”

Meg let the black silk nightgown fall open in her hand, studying its cut. “As I you. This is a new design. It is... comfortable?”

Diana picked up her small case, it held her research, her data chips, orders and replicator logs. All she needed for her next ship. “It is. I think your husband might like it too, when you get home.” Leaving the room she headed for her ships hanger. Another roommate behind her, another friend out of her life. Accepting her orders before boarding a waiting shuttle Diana a smile touched her lips. “Wonder what Meg thinks of a baby-doll nighty” she whispered to herself.

Chapter Two

Entering the Republics Fleet Force she had taken the human name of Chi, Diana Chi. It had simply sounded nice to her ears and felt sweet tumbling from her tongue. Three was no other reason though people, especially Psychologists, kept trying to find one. This amused her, it seemed that certain types simply had to find some deep reason for what had simply been a spur of the moment choice. Besides, she had barely known English by then. Deeper reasons had been impossible for her at that time. Now she had a ship to find. ROE Whitestar, a deep space research ship.

ROE Whitestar she learned had been with a large contingent of research ships studying a star about to nova. Someone had made an error in calculations, a minor slip. Just a matter of one hundredth of a degree. Because of this the observing fleet had been caught unready to escape the eventual, and earlier than expected detonation. Perhaps one in eight ships survived what followed.

When her ship finally arrived three days later Diana stood in shock, watching the monitors as the battered craft was tugged into port. ‘They survived that?’ she thought to herself. Outwardly her features remained calm, to all but the most trained or a Bridell viewer. Inside she was a storm. What could have done so much damage to a ship that large, for obviously the explosion had come from within the ship, not from an external source. To her limited knowledge few ships had survived such damage to return to port. Much less be assigned for repair. Then, she wasn’t a Fleet historian by trade or hobby. Her own alien historical knowledge was limited to the odd Collector race. Abruptly she remembered the latest news, over a dozen ships had vanished without a trace two months ago. Of course the Republic would rebuild Whitestar. It was faster to rebuild than to build from scratch and they seriously needed to replace those lost ships.

“They will require many councilors” an elderly voice announced from beside her. “By my reading of your records I understand that you are Temple trained?”

Diana flicked her eyes to her left, studying the elderly human female beside her. ‘Religious’ she told herself, noting the symbols carefully embroidered in the humans clothing. There were no rank symbols, which simply meant she didn’t want to be addressed by rank. “I am no councilor Great Lady” she answered, her voice as soft. It was not the first time this mistake had been made, certainly it would not be the last in her life. “I am a simple helmsman, nothing more.”

“Yet your bearing, your calmness speaks much. Did you learn nothing?”

Diana smiled, careful not to show her fangs though humans were never bothered by what her race would consider a challenge. “Temple trained yes” she admitted. “I am Historian trained, my race segregates responsibility even in Temple. My calmness. It is from having just finished serving two delightful years aboard a Bridell science vessel, nothing more. I could no more aid those in need than a Kaskane could understand the social life of a Uralth. I will serve and gladly, but I cannot overstep my abilities.”

“My pardon then. I had hoped... Even with the cadets we are... Fleet is stretched now to aid those in need. She was such a beautiful ship.”

“And will be again” Diana replied. “Even if I have to set every plate myself. It will be an honor to serve aboard a ship that has survived what they have. All I can do is hope that my own actions bring no dishonor to those still aboard.”

“Then in peace may you walk.” With those words the odd woman vanished, leaving Diana somewhat bemused. At every post someone would read her records, see ‘Temple Trained’ and assume. At first it had been a bother, lately she’d begun taking it as a fact of life she’d carry always. Though she had no clan, no race, no home planet her educational history had been left her. ‘How long before the ships councillor calls me in, asking that I help with his or her work’ Diana wondered. It had never failed to happen, even aboard the Bridell ship. Not that she would refuse an order to help, it was just that in all honesty she had no training, no skill.