TFF: Ovion Archives

"Happy to contribute," I had said snarkily.

He had grinned back.

There was a sudden jolt as we cleared Lycus. My thoughts returned to the present.

Xion checked the atmospheric pressure. His gaze proceeded to review each indicator and touch screen to routinely check through the conditions of the craft and the area surrounding the craft up to a radius of the twenty gitch, being the distance covering the present planet and the nearest next planet or sun. Gitch is a measure used solely for space travel and represents the light travelled between space objects in vacuum conditions.

The long-distance coverage was a standard requirement of all 2BS aero fleet based on the universal air and vacuum travel directive.

A flashing on the monitor brought some weapon fire to his attention. It was just off the Ovion Centre. He flicked the comm to open the line with the Ovion Centre Security.

"This is 202 Ridestar. What the fuck was that?"

"A prison breakout, sir! East tower, lower dungeons, Portu."

"The prince?"

"Yes, sir, and his cellmate."

"Well, that's good to hear," replied Xion with a chuckle, surprising me.

There was a chuckle in reply before he abruptly turned off the transmission. He turned to meet my gaze with a slight grin and then proceeded to ignore me altogether.

This was getting tiresome. But I kept my silence. I'd save it for the bigger battles ahead, of which I was sure there would be many.

Without much ado, we were whipped into warp mode and zipped past several solar systems. To go warp, the flight planner must first send out a neon blip through space to the intended destination, then await the echo back. The echo back functions to plot obstructions along the route. Since the aircraft can only move along the clearway, the warps are usually short, repetitive bursts that make up the whole distance. The warps occur an instant after the blip to avoid unexpected obstructions. The momentum of the warp has a push-on effect that also allows functions to provide a leeway should a sudden obstruction appear.

In most cases, the push-on effect simply moves the object out of the way. In other instances, the warp settings simply readjust, and either the craft deviates around the obstruction, or a blaster is used to flash it out of existence.

On our particular route, we lucked out and had to make it in short, multiple bursts around obstacles that varied from simple floating rocks, debris, and even space scraps that had not been picked up.

Flashing these out would have used up too much energy.

Xion radioed in the locations of those, and because of his obvious high positioning in the Ovion protocol pyramid, this space junk pickup would be given priority.

"This is 202 Ridestar approaching air lane 426, requesting permission to land," Xion radioed in.

"This is Ovion Air Controls, welcome to Ovion, air lane 426 is clear. Proceed to security on arrival. Sec Leader Quan will attend to you on arrival."

I followed as Xion and his entourage strode down the dock swiftly. We had now arrived at the Ovion Sec central hub for the Una Quadrant. This was an uninhabitable planet, the radius of which only amounted to 5,400 km. It was, as such, useful for no other purpose. The Ovions, thus, secured it as their central hub for this quadrant. There were other hubs in other quadrants, and in more dense population, there was more than one hub. War-prone quadrants held battle forces on the ready with several abandoned or uninhabitable planets and satellites being taken over by Ovions for security enforcement purposes. I, like most other citizens of this universe, avoided such areas.

He didn't pause but strode on past an OV Sec livery, which I assumed belonged to Quan. He swung into step beside me as he joined the entourage. We continued on towards the security centre, making an impression on all visitors at the centre. Our strides were uniform in movement and grace. We stopped traffic.

Although, to be honest, I really shouldn't use the term 'we' it was more them. I just tried my best to blend in and not fall over my feet as I struggled to keep up with their Ovion pace.

It was annoying that Xion gave me no thought as we progressed. I keenly wondered what he would do if I just paused mid-stride. But I missed my chance to put it to the test, for it seemed we had arrived.

I gazed up at the overly high doorway, and then walked through with the rest. I kept my keen observations on the alert. I was entirely pessimistic over any thoughts of achieving a successful escape. But I kept a lookout for potential escape routes anyway. The doorway was not an end to our destination, and we marched on through many more doorways and moved down several elevators as well as several side zips, moveable rooms that sped along fixed routes for an express journey.

I audibly sighed with relief on finally reaching what I assumed was our destination.

It was very like any other office space, I was disappointed to note. There were no special screens that televised our every movement like I'd come to suspect from watching too much Muslander porn. For some reason, the Muslanders had a thing for Ovions and their security centres. These were the featured backdrops for almost all local porn. They used several mock-ups of what they thought were Ovion-like offices and, on occasion, even stole Ovion holograms modified for more carnal purposes. What surprised me most was that the Ovion Centre permitted the airing of these shows. There were no raids done, and I suspect the stolen holograms were probably quietly sanctioned. For logically, you could not steal from an Ovion.

They were security.

There were none more paranoid or efficient in securing their things, right down to their DNA and traceable hair follicles. The Ovions brushed well in the mornings and evenings in their secured personnel quarters so they did not leave a strand of hair about anywhere.

I didn't either, but that was mostly because of my amazingly strong hair texture and roots. It did not break, and it did not pull out, and as you must now have guessed, it could not be cut. So I leave it in its au naturel length and tied it up in braids and various other ways. At present, it was in a convenient single braid.

The entourage split up. I was led to a very dull white-walled room with a table and chair. The door was locked behind me. I guessed this must be my new cell. I was bored and restless just five minutes in. So I pounded on the door and asked for something to read. No response. I pounded some more, getting angry, but was still ignored.

Tears of frustration filled my eyes. I resolutely wiped them away. I dug in my bag and pulled out my puzzletronic, the only electronic gadget they'd let me keep. Puzzletronics were all engrossing, and this kept me occupied so thoroughly that I hadn't realised it was already nightfall before the door clicked open.

I got up once more and this time I pounced.

Hunger pangs on an active high immediately drove me on. Not surprisingly, I was brushed aside like a pesky fly, but my anger kept me at it before Xion, it seemed, gripped my arms in an unbreakable hold and shook me still.

"What were you planning on? Just locking me in here till I went stark raving mad or starved?" I shifted to verbal combat.

But he had anticipated as much, so all he said was, "Shut up before I muzzle you."

Xion came all the way into the room and casually settled on the seat I had just vacated. "I came to apologize. Several things piled up while I was away." Then he took my arm and gestured for me to sit on the other chair. "Look, we need to discuss this." When I did not budge from the doorway, he implored, "Please take a seat."

I reluctantly took my seat across him.

"I am sorry for your treatment so far. We have gone about this the wrong way."

I nodded but otherwise was not encouraging. He sighed and continued.

"I'd like for you to come along on this willingly. It would be easier for all if you were to cooperate with us rather than for us to tug you along as a prisoner."

"Hey, I am the victim here on all counts. Bimas invented me. He did the crime, not I. You have imprisoned me without cause, and I have not made a single compliant so far, so that would be considered already being cooperative enough."

Xion leaned forward. "You murdered Albert Smint."

Yes, let us not forget that!

Note to self- Let us also not remind anyone else of that particular fact.

"That's enough to have you incarcerated. Your dna is all over the site, mixed in with the mess that was Albert Smint," Xion obligingly reminded me.

He paused after that God-awful statement of facts and took a calming breath before he continued, "I know he was scum. I know you were provoked. I know that incident was one-off. But I also know that when the push comes to a shove, none of that matters. It is still a murder, and you committed it."

Just like that, I was browbeaten. Tears started to well up. Despair was fast approaching.

He saw the play of emotions over my face and continued more gently, "I'd like to help you. But you have to help me help you."

He caught my hand, and my gaze jerked up to meet his. He looked compassionate. He was very good at this, I admitted to myself almost admiringly.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, willing to reveal all.

He read that in my gaze and gave a satisfied nod.

"Let's get some dinner. We can dine in my chamber, and you will answer all my questions," he commanded.

I was surprised. Being a cold-blooded murderer, the last thing I expected was an invitation to dine in his chamber. My suspicion showed.

"I know more about you than you think, Sim. You can safely assume I know plenty. I am tired and hungry. Dinner and my chamber are all I am looking forward to and, of course, the answers to my questions." He smiled enigmatically. So like the good girl I usually was, I followed him meekly back across to his chamber.

Dinner was delish. I pounced on mine with an impressive appetite. Xion raised a brow but said nothing as he continued with his own dinner with considerably more decorum. Feeling obligated, I said, "Prison food sucks," by way of an explanation.

He gave a nod of understanding, ever the gentlemen, and continued to ignore my appalling table manners.

We finished up with bitter iced sorbet. Since this was a business dinner, there would be no intoxicants served. I was somewhat disappointed. I could have used a good dollop of booze right about now. Nah! Just kidding. I did not drink. Intoxicants responded unpleasantly with my system. That's not to say I have not tried them before. Like everything else I learnt of my intolerance on intoxicants first hand. Suffice to say the experience had been one I was not eager to repeat.

I smiled my thanks and followed him to the sitting room. I was attired in my spare bodysuit and was feeling a little uncomfortable with so much of me on display in closed quarters with him, which was absurd since I paraded all over the galaxy in just the same clothing.

I shifted unconsciously, displaying my nervousness. Then I jumped ahead to reveal all without any prompting, which had me wondering if the sorbet was an intoxicant after all.

"I'll start at the very beginning," I began obligingly, "just to give you a clear picture."

"That would be best," Xion solemnly replied, not giving an inch.

I sighed and then proceeded to reveal all.

"You must already know, I was admitted to Vnetor because of some unknown reason. I've been thinking it was probably Bimas. He would have had the political clout to get that done." I paused to look at him for his response to that. I received a blank, stony stare.

So I continued, "I joined thinking I was a charity case who somehow got in through a random selection. My family," I paused with distaste to consider my adoptive family, "was not pleased." I recalled the virulent outburst of jealousy from various members of the family quite vividly.

I chose to leave those bits out and went on with my story. "I was very excited about Vnetor. It was my time away from my adoptive family. It was also my time to shine. I was always made to believe I was beneath them - them being my adoptive family. This was my opportunity to prove them wrong. If I could keep up with the rigid expectations of Vnetor. They were half-Johuan, you know and half-Aliff, not that the Aliff half mattered at all in the grand scheme of things. They were snobs," I said, forgetting for the moment that Xion knew more about me than I myself did.

"I was an odd species altogether, thereby inferior to their way of thinking. They were scornful over every aspect of my life. Vnetor was a blessing in more ways that you could ever know," I continued pensively.

"My excitement and relief was, of course, short-lived for I was the odd one out once more. I was the only non-Johuan in the whole of Vnetor. I was treated as more of a charity case there than anywhere else. I was endured, empathised with, scorned, and, on more occasions than not, ignored altogether."

But in all instances, I had never been indulged, not by anyone. I rapidly blinked away the tears that thought produced. There would be no self-pity here, especially not right in front of Xion. That would be for later, in the privacy of my chamber, if I were to be given one. I could after all still end up in a cell.

"Albert was a schmuck of the first order," I say insistently almost automatically, I had been saying it to myself for so long now, repeating it like a mantra, trying to alleviate my guilt over killing him.

"At first, he ignored me entirely. I would appear at his classes, and he would overlook my very presence. I thought, like with everyone else, to him, I did not even exist. So you can imagine my surprise that my last term at Vnetor saw an abrupt turnaround in his behaviour towards me. He became, at first, needling, always picking on me in class and mocking my efforts. He did this in a very dispassionate way, so at first, I did not immediately note this change. It was over time that it became more apparent. In time, it became downright verbally abusive. He would have me stay back over minor offences so he could berate me in private. I did not voice this out to anyone quite simply because I was a minority, and I too believed I was a charity case. I had a huge inferiority complex fed from birth by all who handled me. My time at Vnetor did not help. I was always the worst in every activity no matter if it were studies, combat, or any of the other fields. I could barely keep up to continue to make it to the next level. Each level had been a struggle. It took all my efforts. I pushed myself to exhaustion every day."

I paused to gasp out a breath feeling tired just thinking it all over. Those had been very trying times. It had been as if it were I versus the whole crazy world. I was just so alone. Still was. That hadn't changed. At least imprisonment would not impact me by much on that score. I was more than used to isolation. In fact I had gone out of my way on more occasion than one back at Vnetor in search of just the right place for pure isolation. That's how I found the forbidden dungeons at Vnetor. It had been documented in the histories of Vnetor that I had spent hours in the library devouring simply because I had already read up on a whole lot of other books that caught my interest. Reading up on Vnetor's histories gave me a sense of belonging that I craved. Later, I would spend hours searching for the hidden secrets of Vnetor. The dungeon had been the biggest find. I had been ecstatic over its discovery. But again I had no one to share that with. So I didn't. Instead, I went on to uncover the next big secret. It was good practice on my research and discovering efforts.

"I did not think anyone would take my word against his. I also did not want to provoke a dismissal. I was determined to finish off at Vnetor. Ironically, despite all, I never managed that anyway."

I paused on reconsidering. "There was one thing I was good at, the drums."

I looked up at Xion. The excitement I always felt whenever I think about the drums was apparent in my expression. The Johuans had a sacred drum routine that was ingrained in their culture from eons ago. Part of the training in Vnetor included learning those drums to the same beat that had been played on for just about forever. I had been especially good at this one thing. It had taken all I had though. The drums were huge. We had been taught the routine just that once then each of us had had to take turns in front of an assembly to play the drums. Rumour had it only a true Johuan could play the drums. I had not been surprised by that for it had taken all my strength to hit the barrel and produce the sounds from it.

The material stretched across the enormous barrel was of Bahres leather. Bahres hide was the strongest known in all Sant worlds. 'Sant' was the universal term used to identify those planets that had their own versions of the Bahres, a spiritual creature that is said existed across all galaxies but only took on various physical forms in habitable planets across the galaxies. These habitable worlds were named Sant. No one knew exactly why these worlds were habitable, what made them achieve Sant status that enabled a bahres to take on physical form. A lot of beings even refused to believe that Bahres existed. But the proof as always was in the hide. Alive the Bahres were not easily identifiable as they could appear in any form but no matter the form taken when alive in death all the hides were the same and that is how the presence of the Bahres had been identified. All living beings left carcases on death but not the Bahres. The hides they leave behind are made of materials so tough that natural disintegration just did not happen. The material was airtight and tough and had wide spread uses. They were also extremely rare and were becoming rarer still. There were a lot of unexplainable mysteries surrounding the Bahres. How did they come about? Why were they always different? How did they get across the universe to planets so remote? Were they the universal link? The common ground that unites all planets. No one actually knew how a planet became Sant. The existence of its spiritual form is only speculated, as that was difficult to establish, although there are reports of such sightings, there were few who believed. The sudden appearance of Bahres in a world that had no previous histories of the species and its existing in an environment that yet differed from others was evidence that served to only strengthen those spiritual implications.

It had taken immense strength to play those drums. I had been shaking in my boots before that first attempt sure I would fail to produce a single sound. Then I had been at the podium, feet positioned apart, and in my hands had been two heavy drum sticks that just felt right. I gathered the drum sticks in one hand and used the other to run it over the stretched hide. I could feel its strength, its dexterity and I had also felt that tingle beneath my skin. I gazed at the drum before me and felt a sudden yearning to hear its sound. It had been almost involuntary that first beat. I had almost no awareness of lifting my hand to only bring it down with all my might against that smooth cool surface. But then the beat rang out and the sound overtook me.

I forgot the avid crowd around me and heaved my right stick up again, and with all my strength, I had let it fall across the face of the drum. Its thunderous sound vibrated through me for a spell, drawing a frenzied desire for more. I had swung up my left stick to pound it across. My upper body movements had taken on the centuries-old dance of the drums as I had rhythmically started pounding out a tune that were centuries old across the hide that was as old, picking up pace and lending a new rhythm to that tune. I picked up the pace and the beat rang with it thrumming into my blood.