"… War and violence, ambition and ruthlessness. These things are as endemic to life, as are kindness and compassion. The right choice between the two is not always the one that's obvious or easy, sometimes it is the one that leads to the greatest upheaval.
The things we did, those fateful choices we made, caused as much of the former, as they did the latter. I will not attempt to make excuses for our actions, or gloss over the price that we and others paid for them. Those are our burden and we owe it to the fallen to continue carrying it.
Could we have done things differently? Found a better path, one that avoided everything that came after? Perhaps. In the end, though, change always comes at a cost..."
- From the memoirs of Valyra Thay Rynn
~~~~
Valyra awoke to the unfamiliar sounds of thrumming engines, the ever-present hissing of coolant fluid and the rhythmic rumbling of the pumps which moved it to and fro, through pipes which snaked throughout the vessel like a cosmic dragon's iron arteries. She was lying on a narrow bed, the polymer mattress hard and creaky, unlike the silken sheets and morphogenic foam she was familiar with, material designed to adapt to one's body and provide a comfortable rest. The air smelled alien, a mixture of recycled oxygen, ozone and the stinging tang of antiseptic fluid that assaulted her senses. Some kind of primitive, electronic equipment sat suspended on a bar above her, with multicolored wires that ended in an array of sensors distributed all across her body.
She felt stiff, her entire form aching with the dull throbbing of exhaustion and overexertion, along with a stinging, pulling sensation in her side. She was covered with something warm and heavy, a woolen covering that smelled vaguely like gunpowder. She tried to lift her hand to push a particularly troublesome strand of her black locks away from her features, only to feel something cold and lifeless pull against her wrist. With a look of dawning horror, she realized she was wearing some kind of restraints. Belts of some kind, wrapped around her limbs and torso, keeping her bound to the bed she was lying on. She tried to struggle against her bindings, to no avail, as the damned things seemed to be firmly fastened.
"Take it easy, princess," came a raspy voice she recognized. A Terran voice. "Those are so you wouldn't fall off in case something went wrong with the ship." Kainan stepped into view and pressed something by the bed. Valyra felt the tight fastenings release their grip on her with a click and she sat up as if struck by lightning. "You are in the infirmary aboard the Razor's Edge, a Midnight-class deep space interceptor," he explained, his steel-gray eyes taking in her haggard appearance with the cold, clinical detachment of a soldier long used to sights of grievous injuries. "Don't try to move too much, your body is still recovering from that injury you took."
Valyra's lips parted and her voice, when she spoke, was as raw as the rest of her. "What happened?" she asked, slowly reaching down to gently touch the strip of medical polymer that had been taped over her side, only to freeze upon realizing her current state of relative undress. She was still wearing her ruined nightgown, now torn and shredded in a way that left very little to the imagination. As if sensing her discomfort, Kainan reached down to pull something over her, the warm and heavy covering which she realized was his coat. She took it gratefully and wrapped herself in it.
"We evacuated as many as we could, but the station was destroyed," answered the warlord with a heavy sigh. He didn't look much better than she did, the right sleeve of his shirt stained with a dark patch of dried blood from that gunshot wound whose stitches he had torn loose during the fight. "The Dra'var'th managed to find our secret backup command center and infected the mainframe with a virus that shut down our defenses. And we couldn't stop them from triggering the self-destruct."
Valyra hissed out a heavy, ragged sigh, pressing a thumb against her temple. "You knew," she said. It wasn't a question. "You knew this was coming. You knew about my brother's coup." Looking at it now, it all made sense, why he was always hovering so close to her, his cryptic warnings, the real reason he posed as a mere security officer when they first met. She stared at him hard, as if daring him to deny it. That the Terrans knew so much about the internal politics of the Dominion, was a shock, for all Great Houses went to extraordinary lengths to ensure that kind of information only ever flowed one way, that they were aware of everything that went on within the governments of the Lesser Species, but never the other way around. She realized, then, that these humans were far more capable and dangerous than she had ever given them credit for. And that Terran warlord who stood near her, was one of the most cunning men she'd ever met. "We did," he answered with a nod, after pondering in silence for a moment. "Just not when. We were hoping for at least another week."
"Then you also know that, by now, my brother has either been named heir, or is already sitting on the throne," the princess continued, her brows furrowing as she tried to piece this complicated puzzle together, only to find that something didn't add up. "So, why, then? Why align yourselves with me and not Vaeloryn? Why not curry favor with the side that clearly has the advantage?"
"Because currying favor is not what we are aiming for," Kainan responded in a flat tone, yet another infuriatingly vague answer from this man whose secrets, Valyra suspected, had secrets of their own. "Besides, we know what company he keeps."
The princess gasped, her composure shattered yet again, something that was beginning to turn into a regular occurrence whenever the warlord revealed yet another layer to his convoluted web of intrigue. Even among the Great Houses and the Alvari Dominion itself, few knew about her brother's secret Dra'var'th mistress. Yet, somehow, this human, this supposedly primitive subject of the High Table, was aware of it. "Just how far does your influence truly extend, warlord?" And more importantly, how far did his ambition?
"As far as it needs to," he answered with yet another one of those maddeningly cryptic lines of his, which somehow said a lot without revealing anything of true importance. Seeing the frustration written plainly on her features, Kainan let out a sigh of his own and sat down on the cold deck plating of the medbay, his back leaning against her bed. "When we made first contact with the Council, we learned the hard way just what kind of place the galaxy is. And what our place is in it…" he said slowly, his tone solemn and grave. "We had to learn quickly how to adapt in order to survive, especially here, in the sector governed by the Dragon House." That did not require an explanation, for everyone knew how the species under the Dra'var'th Overlordship's guidance fared. Broken, shattered, reduced to beaten slaves and slowly driven to extinction. Of course, the Dra'var'th, along with the rest of the High Table, were supposed to guide and uplift the Lesser Species, to shepherd their development and gradually elevate them to the same level as the Great Houses. In reality, though, the Great Houses mostly saw to their own interests and had no eagerness to ever share their lofty place of power with the younger civilizations. And the Dra'var'th were, by far, worse than all the other Houses in that regard.
"Plans within plans, princess. That is the guiding philosophy of the Terran species. We had to learn not only how to observe what others miss, but how to hide how much we know. Of course, everyone would expect us to plot and scheme to advance our interests, to hide things from the Council, just like the other Lesser Species do," Kainan explained. "That is why our plans have so many layers to them. If we were to just clamp down on all our secrets, it would very swiftly attract undue attention from the Council, so on the surface, we give the galaxy exactly what it expects to see, but never the true extent of what there is."
That was what he had done, when she had tried to read his thoughts during that sparring match they had partaken in two days before. He had only given her exactly the amount and kind of secrets she expected to find, while keeping everything truly important, hidden. Now, though, he saw no reason to keep his plans from her anymore. Her fate was already tied to humanity by virtue of necessity and if this alliance of theirs was to work, it would now require trust. "The other day, you asked me what favor I want in return for humanity's support. First, I will tell you just what we have to offer, which is more than a mere few hidden reserves of fuel and caches of resources." Even that was an understatement, for in reality, the Pact controlled a full fifth of all Aetherion supply, that elusive substance consisting of a mixture of dark matter and tachyons, which all starships relied upon to translate themselves into the Rift and travel at speeds exceeding that of light.
"On paper, your brother might have the advantage, the greater number of supporters within the Phoenix House, plus the covert support of the Dra'var'th. But the Pact is more than a political block. We have ships. Armies. Vast caches of resources to impress even the treasurers of the Great Houses and a few other aces up our sleeves," he continued as he turned to look at Valyra, his voice as hard as the steely gaze with which he regarded her. "We will help you rally the loyalist bloodlines within your House. Then, we will help you retake your throne. In return, we want a say in how the galaxy is run. We want a say in the deciding of our future."
If Valyra thought nothing he said could shock her anymore, she had evidently been wrong yet again. For what he had just revealed to her was so shocking, so preposterous and outlandish, as to exceed any reasonable being's expectations, to the point of bordering on madness. Now, it finally clicked, everything finally made sense, the rebranding of their government, the convoluted web of alliances they built, even the way this warlord had styled himself in the manner of the Great Houses during the reception ball. The humans, a species who had barely crawled out of their own gravity well, who hadn't even been spacefaring for a thousand years, let alone the fifty or so that was the amount of time it took the last species who ascended, pursued a seat at the High Table.
The sheer audacity of the humans was only matched by the boundlessness of their ambitions, it seemed. To aim so high, in such a short amount of time, to defy every expectation, rule and reason and to go against what the entire galaxy saw as common sense, it left Valyra at a loss of words. How was she supposed to respond to such a revelation, such a preposterous idea as the one the Terran warlord just revealed? Nothing in her experience, in the lessons of her tutors, or the entire history of her ancient civilization, had prepared her for such a thing. There simply was no precedent, no example to draw upon or compare with.
Worse, Valyra realized, was the fact that as crazy and preposterous as this audacious scheme clearly was, it actually had a reasonable semblance of chance at succeeding. The timing, the preparations, everything was just right, a one-in-a-billion cosmic chance to allow a species with just the right resources, preparations and characteristic, to seize the opportunity and capitalize upon it to its fullest extent. She realized, then, just what that fascinating human saying truly meant, what it meant to play both sides against the middle, to exploit the differences and conflicts between two vastly greater powers and take advantage of their conflicts in such a way as to maximize one's advantages. If this Terran warlord played his cards right, he might actually succeed, he might pull off something that no one else had done before, a meteoric rise to power from the humblest of origins, all in such a way as to blindside the entire galaxy and upturn the very heart of the established order before anyone even had time to process what had happened.
Though she had not yet come to know the details of the humans' plans, the resources they had assembled, all the pieces they had placed across the board, had coalesced into just the right tool that was needed for the job. If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have laughed, perhaps and had she not seen just what this human warlord and his followers were capable of, she would have dismissed the idea as nothing more than an absurd conspiracy theory, the kind only whispered about in the drunken bar talk of the uneducated, half-bored commoners, the fruit of an overactive imagination or the insane hallucinations of a broken mind.
And here she was, right in the middle of it all, her birthright, her fate, her very survival hinging upon the success of this most absurd and preposterous of plans, upon the ambitions of a species that hadn't even developed proper medical technologies and which still thought artificial gravity was the bleeding edge of innovation. It was all too much to process in such a short amount of time, even for her, especially after everything she'd gone through in the last few days.
She slumped back against the uncomfortable mattress of the medical bed, her hair spilling out around her and she pressed a shaking hand against her temple as she fought to bring some semblance of order back into her thoughts and begin to make some kind of sense of where she fit in the midst of the convoluted web of schemes of galactic proportions that she suddenly found herself at the center of, one which, Valyra suspected, she hadn't even began to scratch the surface of, let alone grasp the full and true extent of it.
~~~~
The days went by in a blur. Kainan had left the princess under the supervision of the medics and while she recovered, he busied himself by helping keep the little ship flying. A deep space interceptor like the Edge, was a small vessel, not much larger than a shuttle, except designed for extended duration patrol and reconnaissance missions out on the frontiers, or along the tradeways. Normally, the Razor's Edge would have flown with a crew no larger than five, it was now transporting more than four times that number. As such, aside from supply shortages, the small ship's life support systems were pushed well beyond their design parameters and keeping them functioning was a monumental task that required constant, around the clock attention just to prevent a catastrophic malfunction from occurring at any given time.
It was grueling, unpleasant work made worse by the sweltering heat, rising humidity and the ever-present stench of overheated polymer. With the majority of the passengers still under medical supervision, there were barely any hands available to do it. And so, Kainan spent the majority of his waking hour buried elbow-deep in the guts of leaky, greasy air scrubbers and squeezed inside crawlspaces that barely fit him, next to sparking cables, whirring fans and all the other moving, clicking mechanical components that kept the interceptor's occupants from breathing vacuum or getting cooked alive by the heat of the ship's engines, its reactor and the combined output of all the bodies which inhabited it, a task made all the more complicated by the long dives into Riftspace that their journey required, which made it all the more difficult to vent the vessel's heatsinks, let alone restock the dwindling supplies.
But the worst part wasn't the backbreaking labor, the heat, the nonexistent comforts, or even the meagerness of the rations. It was the fog of war that he hated more than anything, the not knowing what was happening out there, in the galaxy at large and more importantly, in his Empire. It couldn't be helped, he knew. The very reason he had decided upon an interceptor, back when the plans were made for the evacuation, instead of something larger and more heavily-armed like a corvette, was its speed. The Midnight-class was the fastest ship in the Terran fleet, fast enough to outrun even the courier vessels that kept the infonet relays updated. A sleek vessel, at least by human standards, its triangular profile resembling an arrowhead, with backwards-swept wings that served as both additional radiators and to assist with maneuvering while dipping down into a planet's atmosphere. And given the time it took for information to propagate, he wouldn't have a clear picture of what was truly going on until well after they had reached their destination.
He knew, of course, he had expected this to be the case, but that hadn't made it any easier. And combined with the exhaustion, the soreness and that horrid heat, it frayed his nerves to their absolute limit and left him in a very foul mood. He was in the middle of shouting a string of foul expletives at an uncooperative coupling when Valyra, finally up on her feet, found him in the cramped engineering section of the vessel. He had not been expecting her and had let his guard down, something that was not usually part of his habits and as such, he had not sensed her psionic presence when she approached, until she was standing practically next to him.
He flinched and turned, only to bang his elbow painfully against a piece of pipe, prompting yet another string of expletives that made the princess lift one of her delicately-arched eyebrows. With a sigh, he set his tools down and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, not noticing he'd spread a smudge of lubricant across his features in the process.
"You look worse than I feel, warlord," Valyra remarked with a small smirk. "And from what I hear, that blade scored furrows on my ribs." She was still barefoot, though she had exchanged her ruined nightgown for a spare jumpsuit from the ship's supplies, the garment a few sizes too large for her slender frame, making her look like she was swimming in it. Somehow, it didn't diminish her regal presence. "When was the last time you had any sleep?"
Kainan rolled his eyes. "I'll sleep when I'm dead, princess. Until then, I have work to do," he said, pausing to take a short swig from his canteen of water, not quite enough to quench his thirst, but that was all the rationing permitted. "So, what can I help you with?"
"I saw the way you fought, back there. And your soldiers," she said carefully, her tone measured, hesitant, as if she wasn't quite sure yet what to make of the things she had seen. It was out now, one of mankind's greatest secrets, their species' development of psionic aptitude. He sighed, then gestured towards the ship's mess hall with a grease-stained hand. Valyra followed him without a word, waiting for the door to slide shut and enclose them in the small, cramped chamber, which was little more than a broom closet with a table bolted to the wall and a pair of simple, metal stools. She did not say anything more, sensing his hesitation to discuss the topic, waiting for him to answer on his own terms. She had never heard of such a thing, of a species developing a sufficiently powerful attunement to the Veil to manifest abilities in such a short amount of time. And she saw it in the warlord's eyes that the subject was a delicate one for the Terrans.
"When the Earth… when our homeworld burned, it left a scar upon my species…" Kainan said slowly, as if speaking it out loud risked some kind of sacrilege. "It was more than just a cultural wound, or the destruction of the central node of our logistics… To us, this was a spiritual injury, a shockwave felt across the collective psyche of mankind…"
Valyra frowned. Of course, that the loss of a homeworld would cause a tectonic shift in a species' entire worldview and society, was to be expected, but never in the history of the galaxy had such a thing triggered a psionic awakening. Such a thing developed only with gradual exposure to locations bathed in powerful psionic currents, places of power where the currents of the Veil converged and overlapped with a physical location. Her own homeworld was such a nexus, a one-in-a-billion occurrence that allowed the life on her planet to develop attunement to the Veil early in its history, but the Terran homeworld was no such well of power. If anything, the Sol system was as far removed from the Veil, as the interstellar void, itself. Kainan saw the confusion in her eyes, so he continued. "You have to understand the context in which this took place," he said. "We had only just developed Rift engines a mere two centuries prior and neither during that early age of colonization, or in the previous centuries, had we encountered any sign that would indicate to us the existence of other intelligent life in the universe."
The humans had, indeed, developed in an unusual region of the galaxy, a sector that had been so thoroughly harvested by the Dra'var'th as to be left almost completely barren, devoid of spacefaring civilizations until the emergence of humanity. And that humanity had not detected more distant signs of civilization was hardly surprising, either, as nobody would waste the energy to attempt slow and inefficient interstellar transmissions through realspace, not when networks of courier ships traveling between local relays were far faster and more efficient. Valyra still couldn't see how this would have led to the development of psionic abilities, especially so suddenly.
"When we finally made first contact, we expected to encounter something incomprehensibly alien, something so strange and different as to require a thousand years of study to even begin to understand," the warlord continued with a shrug. "We expected space squids, or beings with a silicon-based biochemistry. Instead, what we found, were creatures from our mythology."
Again, such a thing was not unexpected, as it was quite common for Riftspace-capable civilizations to send research teams to study species that were less developed and such visitors would often be interpreted as divine beings by more primitive civilizations. "And before we even had the time to process this, we found ourselves at war with beings that had inspired the literal demons of our legends. Beings that glassed our homeworld without hesitation, which unleashed such acts of cruelty upon our people, as to exceed our worst nightmares. Did you know we had to invent new words to describe the tortures that we suffered? Words that previously did not exist in any of our languages, because even the concepts they represented had not occurred to our civilization."
Valyra fixed him with a solemn, mournful look of pity. She knew exactly what kinds of depravities the Dra'var'th were capable of visiting upon a people. Her own kind had been at war with the Dragon House, back before the Council was established, when all the ancient civilizations had fought against eachother for control over the galaxy. "It all happened so fast…" the warlord continued. "The upending of our entire worldview, then the downfall of our cradle. Thirty billion people burned to ash as the ground beneath them melted and the very air around them boiled… Something snapped. It was as if all of humanity could sense what had happened, some individuals more than others. Many lost their sanity, others outright died from the shock, but a few… A small handful of the strongest-willed among us, managed to endure the backlash, at a time when all our species turned towards spiritualism for some degree of comfort. Do you know how many new religions emerged after the Earth's destruction?"
Valyra shook her head, though she suspected the number would be high. "Over a thousand. Psionic manifestation is contingent upon strength of will and that comes from belief, from faith," said Kainan. Of course, psionic manifestation required mental clarity and a will strong enough to impose its thoughts upon reality. It was the very first law of psionics, the Law of Intent and it was the reason why all throughout the galaxy, psionic abilities were closely linked with religion and spirituality.
"You see, throughout our history, there have been other such moments of spiritual certainty…" he said and Valyra's eyes widened as the last piece of the puzzle slid into place. She had known humans had once been a deeply spiritual species, only to gradually drift towards materialism, a shift which culminated during what they referred to as the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Such was to be expected, given the emptiness of their sector of the galaxy and their homeworld's lack of attunement to the Veil, a veritable psionic vacuum caused by the Dragon House's excessive harvesting of conscious beings in that region.
What this warlord had revealed, though, made her rethink everything she thought she knew about his species. It made sense, now, why mankind had such rich and diverse mythology, why they'd developed so many different faiths and spiritual practices throughout their pre-industrial history. The humans hadn't suddenly developed psionic abilities after the Council conquered them. No, they had long ago attained attunement to the Veil, only to gradually lose their connection as the Dra'var'th emptied the stellar regions around them. Theirs was a reawakening, a reconnecting to an ancient past that their species had long since dismissed as nothing more than the product of primitive superstition and overactive imagination. And looking at them now, was like looking at a reflection of her own species' ancient past.
She wasn't sure how to process this yet, so she decided to change the subject to something more familiar to both of them: politics. "All these plans of yours… The scheming, the coalition-building, the layers of secrecy… You are playing a very dangerous game, warlord, challenging an order that has stood firm for hundreds of thousands of years. The Council, such as it is, keeps the galaxy from sliding into chaos," she said. Of course, that was already well-known to everyone, as it was something the Galactic Council loved to use for propaganda purposes, though that did not make it any less real. The establishment of the Council, had ended the unprecedented violence of the Dawn War, which left vast swathes of the galaxy in ruins. It gave the Great Houses a structured arena in which to compete against eachother, a perpetual low-intensity cold war with rules and limitations, instead of the chaos which preceded it. It gave the Lesser Species a chance, however small, to survive in a galaxy that would otherwise annihilate them.
"One wrong step, one careless mistake and it would be more than just the survival of your species that would be endangered," the princess cautioned. The warlord responded with a nod, his expression serious. "We are aware of the risks," he said, though she didn't look very convinced. Monolithic systems like the Council, tended to react unpredictably to sudden changes. And unpredictability was bad for the future of the galaxy.
"The Council has kept the galaxy from tearing itself apart, yes," Kainan continued. "But the thing about stagnation, is that it breeds complacency, which in turn, breeds rot. The system has to change, your highness. Not just because it is unjust, but because it has become corrupt, because it has drifted too far away from its original purpose. The foundations are already crumbling and to stay the course would mean to keep rolling towards the edge of the abyss."
So, he sought reform, she realized, not a complete toppling of the foundations of civilization. This was not the idealistic, but misguided rebellion of a younger, less experienced species, but a measured, logical decision made after careful deliberation. Again, the humans managed to surprise her, this time by demonstrating wisdom that was uncharacteristic of such a young civilization. "And here I thought you were just another rebel," Valyra smirked.
Kainan nodded. "We do not seek to overthrow the galaxy, your highness. Only to provide some much-needed checks and balances, to alter course before we all go tumbling over the edge. We seek a seat at the High Table, yes, where we will be an advocate for the Lesser Species, giving them a platform to voice their grievances and protect their rights and interests without getting the whole galaxy mired in the constant gridlock that a purely democratic platform would result in if attempted on this scale."
"And how do you ensure your own species won't slide down the slope of entitlement and corruption?" Valyra quizzed, raising an eyebrow. It was an obvious flaw in his plan, though she suspected he already had an answer to that problem. "Afterall, most of the Great Houses set out with the same noble intentions you are now championing. How do you ensure you won't become the same as the rest of us?"
"Nothing is spared the insidious spread of corruption," Kainan answered with a sigh. "Given enough time, any institution or system, will eventually drift away from its original purpose and become complacent in its position. That being said, that's what the Pact is for. It is more than just a political and military alliance, or a ladder for us to use to climb higher on the pecking order. The Terran Empire's power and influence, relies upon maintaining strong relations with its partners and though we have so far avoided taking this step to preserve strategic ambiguity, we have always planned to formalize this alliance with a charter and an official institution, a Conclave of sorts. Indeed, once we reach Kalidan, the delegates-"
Valyra cut him off with a gesture of her hand. "Kalidan? Not New Jerusalem" Valyra quizzed. New Jerusalem was the largest and most prosperous human colony, the planet where most of their civilization's institutions and commercial organizations were headquartered. Anyone who looked into human civilization knew that New Jerusalem was their de-facto capital, instead of the now-destroyed Utopia Station the Council regulations dictated. But Kalidan? It was a deathworld, a barely habitable frozen rock near the edges of their territory, the kind of planet only ever used as a military outpost and at most, a penal colony, a mere footnote even in Terran history, known only for being the birthplace of the genetically-engineered race of supersoldiers that this warlord belonged to.
Kainan's lips curled into a roguish smirk. "Everyone expected us to have a secret capital, just like all the other Lesser Species do, your highness. That the galaxy would be aware of New Jerusalem's status as the center of our commerce and diplomacy, is something we expected. And that is why the Terran Empire's real capital is Kalidan. Because no one would ever deem it as having any degree of importance. A clever ruse, wouldn't you agree, your highness?"
Valyra's face lit up with an infectious grin that matched the glimmer in her eyes. Of course, why was she even surprised anymore? That kind of deception, what she realized the Terrans meant by the expression bait-and-switch, seemed to be a staple of their species, one she was growing increasingly accustomed to expecting. There was one more thing she was curious about.
"The way you fought, combining your primitive firearms with psionics, what was that?" the princess asked. The feats she'd seen Kainan and his soldiers perform, was a psionic martial art unlike anything she'd ever seen before, so different from the Rinathay of her people, yet in a way she couldn't name, so similar, almost as if it were the twisted mirror image of the sacred, ancient art of the Alvari.
"The angular dynamics combat system," he responded with a grin that mirrored her earlier one. "At least, that's the official designation for it, but everyone just calls it the Gun Kata," Kainan explained as he leaned against the cramped mess hall's bulkhead. "Its something we developed relatively recently, after our intelligence became aware of your brother's planned coup and we decided to get involved. We knew we would be facing elite Alvari warriors and your Rinathay, so we needed a counter, something to level the playing field."
So, rather than trying to copy something they would never be able to master, they'd leveraged their own species characteristics and found a way to combine it with a technological disadvantage in such a manner that it became a strength. It was yet another example of the human cleverness, of what their species called lateral thinking, that had earned their kind a fondness in Valyra's eyes, along with an increasing degree of respect. The Rinathay was unique and it relied upon the unique Alvari anatomy to function, requiring a fluidity and sense of balance that no other species was capable of matching. Its central philosophy was best embodied in a well-known saying among her people, that motion was emotion given form and it was why her own bloodline's formal middle name was Thay, or dancer, in the language of her court.
Sensing her appreciation, the warlord continued. "It is a martial art which relies on precision and economy of movement as well as careful calculation and psionic mastery. No time or energy should be wasted, no unnecessary flourish, only geometry, psionics and lethal efficiency. Hesitation creates vulnerability, while precision means survival, your highness" he explained before she cut him off with another wave of her hand. "Please don't call me that…" she spoke in a soft, hesitant voice, her eyes drifting down towards an imaginary point on the deck plating. "I have no crown or titles anymore, not unless this crazy plan of yours actually comes to fruition. It's just Valyra now, at least for you." At that, Kainan raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to it than that, but not wanting to press the issue.
It was her turn to sigh and lean against the bulkhead. "What you did for me, back on the station… I can feel it…" she said, her voice small, tired, the regal mask slipping to reveal a hint of the weary woman, her recent ordeals, the betrayal, all of it still raw. The warlord's shoulders slumped, his jaw clenching. He'd known this was coming, a psionic transfer was a profound and intimate connection and he had no idea how it would affect things between them in the long run and what her reaction would be. "I did what I had to do to keep you alive, princess," he said.
Valyra stepped closer, her hand almost reaching for his before she stopped herself. "I know. Among my kind, such a connection is… rare. Forbidden, except between only those closest and most trusted." She didn't quite say it, but it was obvious what she had meant. "I am not angry at you for that, I understand your reasons for doing it," she said, wrapping her arms around herself in a display of raw vulnerability that was as rare as rainfall in a desert. The transfer had created a powerful, profound bond, the kind that normally existed only between people who had known each other their entire lives, except this one was artificial, new and sudden and it left both of them unsure of how they were supposed to interact with each other. It was one of the reasons Kainan hadn't visited her in the medbay over the last few days. What he had done, was improper by any species' definition, yet she couldn't resent him for it despite the awkwardness it created. "You could have died…" she whispered, herself surprised by the concern she felt.
He shrugged, his eyes avoiding hers. "Everything hinges upon you staying alive, princess," he said with a sigh, knowing that wasn't all there was to it. Not anymore, at least. "It does not matter why you did it," Valyra answered, her voice wavering. They were both treading the surface of a frozen lake and the ice could, at any moment, shatter and consume them if they weren't careful. "You risked your life for me. More than once, while those who were my sworn protectors broke their oaths."
"Like I said, Valyra, I did what was necessary. No more, no less," he said, finally looking at her. It was the first time he'd used her name. "Besides, you didn't deserve what was done to you." He wasn't just referring to the betrayal. He'd seen impressions of her memories, echoes of the scars her life had left upon her soul. Before he could say anything else, she closed the distance between them and what she did next, left him at a loss for words. Her arms wrapped around him, her head pressed against the grease-stained fabric of his shirt, her raven locks cascading over his barely healed shoulder. He froze, then slowly, hesitantly, raised his taloned hands, gently returning her embrace, not entirely sure how to process what was happening. He felt the tension in her slender frame easing as she exhaled softly. "Don't get used to this," she whispered softly, her voice almost too low to hear. And just like that, before he could restore some order to his chaotic thoughts, she was gone, as swiftly and as silently as she'd approached him.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, or know what to make of it, but he could sense something had irrevocably shifted between them, in a way he didn't quite know how to fit into his carefully constructed plans. The alliance he was looking to secure, had suddenly become a lot more personal and the cold, logical part of him, the one blasting a thousand warnings in his mind to stay away, to alter course before they both found themselves in some rather dangerous waters, found itself fighting a desperate battle against something more profound and primal, which pulled at him with the inescapable, unyielding gravity of a collapsing star. He had to clear his head and keep his eyes on the goal. So, he decided to keep as much distance between them as he could, before either of them did something that could cause everything to fall to ruin.