The Star Whorl (The Totality Cycles Book 1) Page 9

  Pol-Kreceno’Tiv lifted his mouth from hers, his own pulse quick. He wore her Polistar-induction, deeper than just surface pre-mating, deeper than the Ropalir-induction that Ro-Becilo’Ran had. Geni’vheris. He would have gone further, but for the recurring thought of the lecture on the Tiers, and the nagging doubt it had raised. Only that kept his hormones from getting the best of him, with Polista Zyledi’Kil almost completely unclothed and willing in his arms.

  This is moving too fast, he thought desperately, shivering and instinctively fighting the deepening transformation, even as his body yearned toward fulfillment of the pleasure and mating. He touched her glyph, which was almost completely open to him, and felt a mixed maelstrom of emotions – desire, trepidation, awakening sexual need, reluctance. Relieved, he stroked his hands down her elytra-pace, and sat up, easing her off of him but still holding her close. They had almost crested the Geni’vhal, the point right before true-mating, Geni’vhor, but her reticence had enabled him to pull back from that precipice of change.

  “Krece...” she said breathlessly, half-query.

  “Zyle,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “We’re Geni’vhes, pre-mated.” That said it all, that they were close, and could conceivably get closer over time. Her colors on his body dimmed, to the normal pre-mating intensity.

  “Don’t you want to...?” she asked, moving closer again, bringing his mouth down to hers. He kissed her, and smiled, though there was a touch of that something, that doubt, that held back full pleasure in it.

  “There’s no need to rush,” he replied, and it was strange that she had not picked up on the meanings behind his words. “We haven’t reached full maturity. Our bodies aren’t really ready.” That was not strictly true, as full mating could be achieved once a male was able to respond to a girl’s chemi-scent. But mating before full maturity brought problems, not the least of which were physiological.

  “But I don’t want to lose you,” she said, and there was – the tiniest hint of fear in her voice. He leaned back, to look in her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” he said, raising a vuu-brow. “Why would you lose me?” The grim suspicions arose again to lurk in his mind, trying to dominate his thoughts, but he held them away, for the moment.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Krece, you are so – so beautiful, so confident, you could have any girl. And you are practically guaranteed a place in Tertius. I want to be yours. But I’m only Tatul’Nil’Gu, right at the entry level requirement to qualify for Tertius – what chance do I really have, when you go?”

  “There’s more to me than beauty and confidence,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “And I don’t want just anyone. I want someone special.” And I am not guaranteed to go to Tertius, either, no matter my Nil’Gu’ua ability!

  She blinked at him, as if not quite sure how to take his words. “But you could have had Gotra Pelani’Dun, anyone. I thought – I thought you would want something more, after spurning her.”

  “No,” he sighed, gesturing a negative. “I don’t want – I don’t want to rush into mating, and you don’t have to, to be my Geni’vhes. I think you’re special, beautiful, wonderful. All right? We can take our time, see how it goes.” He caressed her cheek.

  She blinked again, then looked embarrassed. Something else flashed in her mind, across her glyph, and it was gone in an instant, but he still read it clearly – the Occupation and Service Initiative. There it was, the thing that he had feared, that Gotra Pelani’Dun had bared before all of Secondus. His famiya’s status, and the influence it implied. Polista Zyledi’Kil was scared to molting her elytra-pace of being forced off-world once she had completed Secondus, because her Nil’Gu’ua was not high enough to keep her safe from the OSI. So she had tried to fix his interest, and then...

  Would she really have tried to mate, so that we would be bound together? he wondered, feeling cold. Does she think that will save her from the OSI?

  “Is that why you were interested in me?” he asked, had to ask, though he did not want to know the answer. Was there a member of her famiya in the Solidarim, or one of its Ministries, someone who had warned her and her parents far ahead of the formal announcement of the OSI? Had his precipitous actions forced her famiya to act, and had they, in turn forced her to do this? He felt all traces of Polistar-induction leave him. How could the success of his famiya damn him so, so that he could not even have a friendly or a semi-serious relationship with a pretty girl who was bright, sweet, and interesting? How could he ever know that he was valued for himself? “Because of – my lineage? And my father’s position in the Solidarim? Because you think that means I’ll go to Tertius for certain?”

  “No! I mean, it’s not the only reason,” she said, touching his arm. “I like you, I truly do! I liked you – even before the Initiative! I’m just not sure why you – why you would like me!”

  “Many reasons,” he said, gesturing disenchantment, despair, regret. He stood. “But not because you’re willing to mate before you’re ready.” He picked up his deshik and pulled it back on. Could he really sacrifice himself this way, for her sake, when she did not truly love him?

  Should I mate with her to save her, to give her whatever protection Mother and Father can offer? She qualifies for Tertius – just. Her parents will send her, they have no choice. She’ll go to one of the Ministries, or get one of the low seats in the Solidarim itself – something. Can I mate with her, like this, when there is such a landform of doubt over us? Should I?

  “Oh, I’ve lost you!” she said, sounding distraught. “I’ve upset you, and now you don’t like me!”

  “No, I still like you,” he said, looking at her. “And I am upset, but not at you. I’m upset that the OSI has you so frightened that you feel you have to do things like this to avoid it.” He turned away, and prepared to leave. He felt old, older than his actual orbises.

  Polista Zyledi’Kil jumped up and ran up to him, reached up to kiss him. He kissed her back, but did not respond to her chemi-scent.

  “Don’t be angry,” she said, looking beseechingly up at him. “Please be my pre-mated, Krece! I really do like you, regardless of your famiya!”

  He smiled. But he could not go back to the sweet, innocent attraction that they had shared. “We can try, Zyledi’Kil,” he said, but knew it was an empty pledge. He could not pretend that her ulterior motives had not poisoned their interaction.

  She gestured assent, and kissed him one last time, then stepped back.

  The OSI. Something had to be done about it. It had undone just about all of the progress made in doing away with the system of castes, making those of lower ability fear for their freedom and security. It had both females and males looking for havens in the families of higher Nil’Gu’ua ability. For as surely as he had found out the standing in the Tiers of the Gotra Dun, others in Secondus were looking at their lecture-mates’ famiya’s eminence the same way, and trying to make connections the same way that Polista Zyledi’Kil had.

  And if I ever get the chance, I’ll do something about it, he vowed as he walked out of the domicive and applied Nil’Gu’vua to his transport glyph. The desire to destroy the OSI was so strong, it was almost a glyph he could apply Nil’Gu’vua to. It drove the despair away, and gave his life a definite purpose. And having a purpose, his own, definite purpose, felt angrily good.

  Whorl Thirty Four

  Kreceno’Tiv was not looking forward to facing his friends at Secondus, but there was little choice. All of them would know something had happened, something bad, or at least, disappointing. His parents did not say anything, though he got the feeling that they had been relieved to see him unmarked when he had returned home that dark-turn. Now, squaring his shoulders, he went to the transport embarkment point, where his friends were already gathered.

  “You’re not wearing Zyledi’Kil’s colors,” Ro-Becilo’Ran commented, eying him up and down, as they waited for the Secondus transport to come.

  “No,” he answered. There were other querulou
s looks, but he ignored them, his vuu’erio tucked away. He could not sense the despair this turn, for his anger and hatred for the OSI burned within him with a fierceness that was undiminished, even two turns later, that he had to work to hide.

  “Things not work out?” There was sympathy there, among the teasing.

  “Not precisely,” he said flatly. He did not feel like discussing it, nor did he particularly want to interact with Polista Zyledi’Kil, though it would be difficult to avoid her. Regret was a bitter, caustic taste at the back of his tongue – he had really liked Polista Zyledi’Kil. But having her throw herself at him, against her nature, had killed much of his attraction to her. He felt sorry for her, that she had felt compelled to do it, and he had begun to truly hate not just the Initiative but the progenitors of the OSI as well. It had destroyed any chance of honest interaction between persons of different ability levels.

  “Hmph. Pelani’Dun?” Ro-Becilo’Ran asked, shrewdly.

  “Among other reasons,” he confirmed, not elaborating. Would he have to look for someone with a commensurate level of Nil’Gu’ua, just so that he would be reasonably confident that her attraction was not fueled by anything other than attraction?

  I don’t want to have to think that way! he wanted to rage, but kept his demeanor closed. The Unification was supposed to make us all equal! And asking someone their Nil’Gu’ua level is rude! No one has had to do that since the Unification!

  “Well, you won’t want for attention,” his friend said, gesturing wry humor. “If she doesn’t interest you, there are many others who...” he stopped, and Kreceno’Tiv assumed that his expression said enough. “So, it’s that. So, just what is your Nil’Gu’ua ability?” He kept his voice down, but his vuu’erio tennae were pressed forward in avid interest. It was a very personal question, the height of rudeness, really, but Ro-Becilo’Ran was like a brother, and could get that personal, if he wished.

  Kreceno’Tiv laughed bitterly. “Don’t you remember? Same as yours.”

  Ro-Becilo’Ran nudged his arm. “That’s when we were younglings,” he said, alluding to their friendly boasting of being the highest levels. Of being able to see Nil’Gu’vua itself.

  “We haven’t been fully evaluated, yet, so we can’t know for certain,” Kreceno’Tiv said shortly, shrugging. That was not precisely true – everyone had sneaked into the famiya Nil’aris, and tried to find the upper limit of their Nil’Gu’ua, at one time or another. Kreceno’Tiv had done so – and had not found a limit, before he felt he had to leave before he was discovered.

  Not that that means anything, he thought, wanting to gesture denial. I only tested myself up to level Nanes’Nil’Gu, level eight. But – I can see Nil’Gu’vua. He kept the thought from his glyph, from projecting out beyond his own mind.

  Several girls were looking at him, he noted. And they also noticed that he was not wearing Polista Zyledi’Kil’s colors.

  “Fine, don’t tell me, your closest friend,” Ro-Becilo’Ran grumped.

  “Not as close as Ropali Galici’Bel, I think,” he rejoined, picking up his carry-pack as the transport came to a stop before them. Ro-Becilo’Ran laughed.

  Whorl Thirty Five

  Over the next five-turn before the first term-break, Kreceno’Tiv felt that he had become something of a challenge for the girls around him, a prize to be won. Some glomed him, and one or two made a passing, flirtatious comment. He did not object, though he did not want to play the rounds, pre-mating girl after girl, or take advantage of the fascination in any other way, as some other males would have. And since it was impolite to ask one’s level of Nil’Gu’ua, close friends like Ro-Becilo’Ran notwithstanding, he had no way of knowing who was desperate for a way around the OSI, and who might be genuinely interested, and who was just eager to stake a conquest.

  Well, I won’t get deeply involved with anyone, he decided, with a pang. I’ll concentrate on convincing Mother and Father to send me to Tertius. At least there, the young women would be more serious, more focused on studies and deeper matters. And hopefully, they would not be so concerned with his lineage. And, he did not allow himself to think, their Nil’Gu’ua ability was high enough to protect them from the OSI.

  He saw Polista Zyledi’Kil now and then outside of their shared lecture, and she smiled whenever she saw him, but did not try to engage him. Then he saw Gotra Pelani’Dun, but she was walking and laughing with her hulkling, Go-Hytiro’Vel, and he wore her colors.

  Kreceno’Tiv wanted to gesture relief. As long as his former pre-mate had the stone-head wrapped around her, she would not be pursuing him.

  He sat in his usual seat for this lecture, activating his view-glyphographic. Gotra Pelani’Dun came in, laughing, and she threw one fulminating look at him before completely turning her back. The look puzzled him, but he put it out of his mind – she was pre-mated to the stone-head. Why still be angry at him? He brooded over it, before turning his mind to other things.

  “Oh ha, Kreceno’Tiv,” a voice said. He looked to his other side, and a girl, who had never talked to him before, though she had been sitting right beside him all term, smiled.

  “Oh ha, Pavtala Ralili’Bax,” he smiled back, raising a vuu-brow. “Your name is Pavtala Ralili’Bax, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. You’ve become very popular, of late,” she said, gesturing amusement. “Seems everyone is agog about your famiya’s status. Tiring, isn’t it?”

  He raised the other brow. “Some might enjoy that kind of attention and desirability.”

  She laughed. “You’re not that kind. Otherwise, you’d still be with Pelani’Dun, or you’d have the markings of a different girl every turn.”

  He gestured, noncommittal. She was right.

  “Let’s go have some fun this dark-turn,” she said, flicking a vuu’erio at him. “No obligation to become pre-mated. Don’t worry, my place is assured, I’m not afraid and trying to fix your interest because of the OSI. Eh?”

  He thought for a moment, as the Proctor came in. Then he gestured assent. “Let’s.”

  Whorl Thirty Six

  Once he was done with his lessons, he skimmed the Spheres. Things had not changed, nor could he think of anything to say that might change things. Plus he was distracted with his own personal drama. The OSI had not yet reached An’Siija, and those who had been affected by it were silent, as the others who had been victimized by it had gone silent. Disturbed, and feeling again that helplessness to act directly, he shut down his study-station and pulled on his deshik, which had been cleaned and nourished in the refresher.

  “I’m going out to meet Ro-Becilo’Ran!” he called as he dashed out, scooping up the platter in the food-prep area that seemed to be waiting for him. He finished the food before he reached the front entrance, and placed the platter on a small ledge in the vestibule.

  “Don’t stay out too late!” his father called back. “This isn’t an end-turn!” He sent back an acknowledging glyph as he hurried down to where Ro-Becilo’Ran was waiting for him. They Nil-ized their combined transports and traveled together in silence.

  The group was at their usual meeting place, right before the translation-way that would take them up to the Algna Suprum landform. Pavtala Ralili’Bax was there, also, and he found that he was glad that she had come. She seemed the opposite of Polista Zyledi’Kil, unbashful, exuberant, radiant. And best of all, unafraid of the OSI. They were all seated on ground cushions, obviously waiting for the last members of the group, himself and Ro-Becilo’Ran.

  “Oh ha, the Lords Tiv and Ran have arrived!” Thy-Lerefo’Gol said, smiling, his vuu’erio twitching toward them. “Now we’re all here. Shall we?”

  “Please tell me we aren’t going to the Bustani line,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, holding up her hands as Kreceno’Tiv sat next to her on the cushion she had fashioned that was meant for two. “I thought you wanted to have fun!”

  “You have something else in mind?” Thy-Lerefo’Gol eyed her. She gave him a mischievous smile, and g
estured assent.

  “I’m interested in the natural wonders of Gu’Anin,” she answered. “The Bustani is fascinating, but who can get in? And anyway, how wondrous can all those marvels be if we don’t know enough about the wonders of our own world to be bored with them?”

  “So what do you do for fun?” Thynnu Tikati’Pas asked, leaning forward.

  “I explore the world,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax said, looking around mischievously. “I like to go places, different places, on Gu’Anin. Sometimes I take others with me.” She raised a vuu-brow suggestively.

  “So you’re going to take us somewhere interesting?” Kreceno’Tiv asked, smiling.

  “If you want to go,” she teased.

  “Like where?” Ro-Becilo’Ran prodded.

  “Have you – ever been down to the Roots?” she asked breathlessly, looking around their group.

  Ro-Becilo’Ran gestured an emphatic negative, laughing. “No one has ever been down to the Roots – not only is it forbidden, it’s dangerous! More dangerous than many of the other worlds we administer to. Who would be vuu-blitzed enough to try that?”

  “I would,” Pavtala Ralili’Bax breathed, her eyes wide, a credulous smile on her face. “I’ve done it, once! Only for a very short time, but... oh, the things I saw! I only wish I could have taken images of them!”

  Kreceno’Tiv felt an unpleasant tickle in his gut, telling him that the notion was not a good one.

  “But we don’t have to go there,” she laughed, stretching on her lounge. “There are plenty of other forbidden places we can explore!”

  “By the Ancient Hives, she’ll have us Gu’ua-blocked before we’ve had time to split our elytra-paces!” Ropali Galici’Bel groaned, covering her eyes.