Living With Syn

Prologue “Out of the mouths of babes…” —Psalms 8:2 A small blond head pressed against the transparent viewer of the private ground transport, or PGT. The series of low wood and glass style dwellings whizzed past as the vehicle progressed through the Ulna Heights. Clustered around the Warrior Academy, the architecture of the heights blended with the landscape. Here the trees towered over the sky paths with trunks the diameter of the transport. Teal needle-like leaves proliferated, letting the sunlight filter through to the ground. The transport left the heights and glided over flowing grasslands, Tierest trees, and acres of wildflowers indigenous to the high country. As they reached the lower elevations, the tree line gradually changed. The view no longer held the young offspring’s interest. Nafer wiggled and turned toward the distinguished, chestnut-haired Sarran Elder who sat across from him. Nafer scrunched up his impish face, which carried the imprint of the viewing window. He seemed to be to be lost in thought. Bron knew his offspring. The inquisition was about to begin. “Zadda, are we there yet? It’s taking too long. Poppie and the Mommie are going to worry.” The fact that Nafer spoke aloud drew dramatic attention to his level of concern. Nafer rarely verbalized since the Zyptz’s designer plague took his Zenna and Sib along with all the fems of Sarran. He’d told Bron he didn’t see the need. ::You understand mind speech Zadda, so does Poppie, so why do I need to talk?:: “Both Poppie and I have explained to you that not all Sarrans have mind speech. It is impolite to make assumptions on the level of a Warrior or a fem’s ability, therefore, you speak aloud.” Goddess, both Zaron and I spoiled Nafer after losing Nara and Nessie and it really began to show when Zaron went on the Brightstar mission. “Why can’t we teleport?” Nafer looked up at TeBron. “I explained this to you, cub. Poppie has things that must travel home in the PGT. Unless you wish to go home without him, we cannot teleport to Ulna. Do you want to scare the new fem who, as yet, do not know how advanced our psy is? It would also put us all at risk, if our enemies discerned PsyOps Secrets.” Nafer pulled on Bron’s arm. “How can we lie to the fem, Zadda? How can you bond with a lie in you?” Bron sighed and motioned his wiggling offspring over to sit on his lap. But Nafer almost melded his face to the glass in an attempt to see more of the outside. It could be worse. If Nafer concentrated, he could teleport out of the transport and be at the Ulna Depot in an instant, by himself and out of the reach of the two unbonded PsyOps Security Officers, Garlance and Stoker, who saw to their safety in the absence of Juraens. He pulled his offspring into his strong arms, which even now rippled with muscle as if he still worked at the forge with his own Zadda and Poppie. Nafer finally settled on his knees, playing with the hair on his Zadda’s forearm. Both he and Nafer were dressed in the traditional Sarran vest and light trews. While Nafer wore soft slippers with reinforced soles, Bron had donned his black Nathrian leather boots, knowing that Zaron liked the way they shaped his calf. Nafer wasn’t the only one in the household feeling anxious. Bron and Zaron had experienced a period of distance in their relationship since the passing of their fem and femspring—Nessie, and Nara with their unborn bebe. The heat of Planting and Harvest gave way to the Barrens, Sarran winter. In their mutual grief, they retreated behind their mental shields, each only allowing the other entrance for the benefit of Nafer. He didn’t attempt to lie to himself; Nafer felt the difference. Bron found comfort in knowing that Nafer blamed the Zyptz and not his sires for the emptiness of their encounters. TeBron’s call to TeZaron on Brightstar ended the stalemate. The carefully erected barriers of three cycles ruptured with the slight buzz of an unknown song in Zaron’s head. It happened just after Nafer started to talk about mommies, when the Brightstar ranged within calling distance of his new communication device that amplified psy. Both he and his bonded felt unsure of where they stood with each other after three cycles of withdrawal. He needed what they both so carelessly threw away. These thoughts took only a mot to fly through his cerebellum. Nafer’s rear hit his knee, bringing him out of the cocoon of his mind. He willed himself to serenity and stroked Nafer’s back like Nara used to do when she wanted him to sleep. “No Zadda, no nap, you can’t lie to the fems, one is our Mommie.” Nafer wiggled. “Nafer, will you please define your terms. Zadda has no notion of what the word “Mommie” signifies.” “Zadda,” Nafer whined, “I’ve told you so many times, it is like a fem, but more. Mommie makes things called cookies with chocolate chips and you sit in front of the tube with the kitty on your lap, and eat cookies and drink milk. The Mommie makes you midtine meal in a lunchbox with a Warrior who is a spider. She plays chess, poker, and gin rummy. She knows how to hit a ball with a big slab of wood—and then you run fast so you don’t make an out. She understands everything, but she doesn’t know she does. We need the Mommie and the Mommie needs us.” That was a long speech for his son and he expended much effort in trying to explain to Bron what apparently was something best understood by experience. Bron knew this related to the Earthen fem, yet he remained uncomfortable with the wealth of potential of this word Mommie. He and Zaron had barely found themselves again. To BondStir a second time was almost unheard of in the canons of the Sarran Codex. However, a man could fall into a large laptard pit ignoring the space between the words almost and never. The loss of Nara, Nessie, and the bebe left him and Zaron with a hole in their psy that they seemed unable to fill. To bond again with another fem felt sacrilegious. Yet, the closer the Brightstar came to Sarran, the stronger he felt that his and Zaron’s fate berthed aboard the ship; even worse, the BondStir compulsion seemed stronger, more compelling, than what they felt with Nara. Nafer had already mind-bonded to “Mommie.” He and Zaron must put away their grief and fear and learn to open up again to each other and the new “Mommie.” He sighed and attempted a call to his Dragon. He felt Zaron but the mind blocks put in place to ensure the success of the Brightstar mission still held strong. He palmed the device in his pocket. Should he activate the signaler? It would get him through the first set of blocks. ::Use it Zadda, please,:: Nafer pleaded. “Naffie,” it seemed a long time since he used the diminutive that slipped so easily from his lips today. His tendency toward diminutives and pet names always made Nara and Nessie smile. The habit came, as he did, from the forge to the castle and the castle failed to take the legacy of the smithies from the brilliance of the engineer and Warrior. In truth, he was less formal than Zaron who was raised to become a prince, so Bron used colloquiums and soon had Zaron using them too. His offspring looked up, interested in what came next. “Naffie, we will tell the fem the truth of the Sarran psy legacy once they bond. However, we cannot afford to hand our enemies knowledge that we worked for millennia to conceal. People fear what they do not understand. The other council planets developed bio-machinery, genetic slicing, and genetic re-coding. After the initial incident that brought more than two thousand years of war, and the blessings of Triad from the Goddess Ulna, we vowed to use only natural methods to enhance our abilities. We kept that promise up until we lost our fem. ‘‘By slightly modifying the Earthen fem to accept our seed they were able to absorb the antidote. Deliberate, yes, but also ethical. If we did not give them the modification with the antidote, the vaccine would fail. Their whole planet would have been as ours and two humanoid civilizations devoid of fem. Yet we cannot let them feel pushed.” Bron settled back into his seat pulling Nafer with him. Nafer bounced. “Zadda, that’s bullshit. Everything has changed.” “What is this bullshit, offspring?” “Something Mommie says is shoveled at her by most of her male acquaintances.” Bron then knew himself to be defeated in a debate with a child of six cycles. Maybe it was time to activate the signaler.