Courage (33 page)

“Why hello there, lovey. I was wondering when you’d--
oh, shit
!”

At the same as Donai surged to his feet and covered the screen with his hands, Naomi dived off her chair. The chair rolled in the opposite direction she’d disappeared. Donai stared at the art-covered wall between his fingers, frozen with embarrassment. Jenna put a comforting hand on his, and Donai sat back down, his face burning. Her face had gone red from suppressing laughter, and her eyes conveyed that she wanted to speak, but didn’t trust herself not to start laughing instead.

Arryk laughed lightly. “Oh, hun, it’s okay. You look fabulous!”

“By all that lives and breathes, no it’s not,” Naomi said from somewhere on the floor. “This is so embarrassing! I’ll be right back.”

Skitt let out a whimper. His face was as red as Jenna’s, and he was biting his knuckles.

Footsteps treading on a carpeted floor hurried off. Donai propped his elbows on the desk and buried his burning face in his hands. “Well that was a part of my life I’d never intended to share with any of you,” he said matter-of-factly. His coworkers burst out laughing, and both Jenna and Skitt patted his back.

Being greeted by Naomi like that was normal when Donai needed to sleep overnight at Nostrum. Sensual phone calls were a nice way to unwind after a taxing day, especially when the next day promised to be just as taxing. Today qualified as one of those days, but the unwinding ritual had been ruined. Donai had a feeling that, if he called his wife after everyone went to their separate dorms, both his and Naomi’s thoughts would keep diverting back to what’d just happened a few seconds ago. He felt just as embarrassed as his wife, even fully clothed.

“Your wife is very pretty,” Skitt said, sounding out of breath.

“Skitt,” Donai said warningly.

“Sorry. Was only trying to help you feel less embarrassed.”

“Er, thanks, but just please forget this moment ever happened.”

Jenna said, “We’ll try.” She sounded both sincere and amused. “What was the original reason for this call?”

Donai peeled his face from his hands, slumped in his chair, and stared at Naomi’s empty chair as he took a deep breath and sighed his discomfort away. He was still embarrassed, but he’d get over it. “I believe I own a history book with the information we’re looking for.”

“Now what are the odds of that?” Arryk said.

“Astronomical,” Donai admitted. “But--” he got goosebumps all over again “--have any of you ever had a moment where you reflect on your life and all these little choices you make add up to something more meaningful than you could have ever anticipated?”

Jenna said, “You mean, like, something greater than us is guiding our choices?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve had that. It’s how I became a Sensor.” Jenna sat up straighter and tucked back loose strands of hair. “I originally wanted to go to college for physical therapy. I didn’t see why, even with my ability to see auras, that I
had
to become a Sensor, like everyone else. I ended up registering late my freshman year--I forget why--but I remember being so mad when I couldn’t sign up for Anatomy & Physiology. I got stuck in some stupid class for Aura reading. Funny thing is, I ended up really liking the class, and changed my major halfway through the semester. What I’d originally perceived as a frustrating bit of misfortune became the first stepping stone that led me to where I am today.”

“That’s neat and all,” Skitt said, “but I’m not sure I get it.”

“Things beyond my control guided me to where I am, and I’m happy to be here.”

Skitt thought a moment. “Ah. So, if we’re a godless world, what else is out there guiding us?”

“That, my friends,” Arryk said with a smile, “is a deep discussion for another night. I can tell you about Fullyk’s philosophies, but I don’t have the energy tonight.”

Naomi pulled her leather chair so it was centered in front of her camera, then plopped in it, sporting a green pajama shirt and grey sweatpants. She pushed her hair out of her face and popped a weak smile. “Donai, now would be a great time to tell me why you really called.”

“I am looking for a book I can’t believe I have the good fortune to own.”

Naomi raised a thin eyebrow. “A book? At this hour? What do you have that the hospital doesn’t?”

“Information that will hopefully put one mystery to rest.”

“What’s the book called? I’ll have Misha go find it.”

“I don’t remember. It is a hardcover book with a navy blue jacket. It should be really faded and worn, especially the corners. It’s also unusually large and the title is in gold leaf lettering. There aren’t any pictures on the front or back. They did that on purpose,” he added, almost to himself.

“Can you remember all that, Naomi?” Arryk teased playfully.

“Of course,” Naomi said with a crooked smile that read, “oh, please!” She got up and left behind an empty chair once more.

“So how did you happen to have the book we’re looking for?” Skitt asked.

“To put it simply: the invisible hand of fate.” Donai leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “My family has had a lot of historians and anthropologists. Books are our heirlooms. It’s really no big surprise that I have some neat, ancient books in my collection. What I find to be an eerie coincidence is that I happen to work in the only hospital on Kismet that’s ever seen an Aigis, that I happen to be the poison specialist that’s taking care of Aerigo and Rox, and that I happen to be the one who owns a book that might reveal the unadulterated truth of what happened in regards to Neo-Joso. Do you have any idea how many things have had to fall into place over the course of two thousand years for just this moment?”

Jenna said, “Are there very few copies of the book you have?”

“Most likely. The attack sent society reeling backwards. In addition to a bunch of other barbaric madness, there were book burnings. I know this only because one of my ancestors had scribbled inside the front cover that the book had survived decades of book burnings orchestrated by radical atheists. They didn’t want people to believe supernatural forces had been involved in Neo-Joso’s departure. The years following that had been very dark days for Kismet.” Donai blinked. “Man, I’m suddenly remembering a whole bunch of stuff just from picturing the book. I’m surprised I remember so much. The book’s written in Old Kintish, which is a headache to translate sometimes.”

Naomi stepped into the frame and their daughter, Misha, sat in the chair, clutching a book almost as big as her torso. Misha was sixteen, smart, the spitting image of her mother, and in pajama shorts rolled up higher than he approved. Thankfully, sitting down provided a view of her only from the waist and up. She wore a baggy t-shirt that, mercifully, left much to the imagination. Misha held the two thousand-year-old book in front of her so Donai and the rest could read the title,
Kismet’s Survival Guide
, in all capitalized letters. There was no author listed anywhere on the cover, which was so worn that the crisscrossing of individual fibers could be made out as whitish lines among the inky blue.

“Hi, Dad. This the one?”

“You bet it is, cutie.” It looked just like he remembered it. “Why aren’t you in bed, yet?”

“Weekend. Duh.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

“Hey, when you’re my age, you try keeping track of what day it is.”

Smirking, Misha set the book out of sight on the desk.

“Misha, I have a huge favor to ask of you.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to scan the entire book and email it to me.” Misha gave him a look that said she hoped that her father was joking. “Sorry. It’s really important. At least it’s only about a hundred pages.”

Naomi leaned over her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go read for a bit. Call me later?”

“Of course.” Donai looked askance at his coworkers. “To say good night.” His wife popped him a warm smile, then meandered off-screen.

Misha opened the book. The binding swung with a leathery creak and the topmost pages crackled. “You owe me big time for this one, Dad,” she said. “The binding is loose and the pages feel really fragile. I’ll try not to rip anything.”

“Do your best.”

Misha reached for something on the side of her desk and a light illuminated her face from under her chin, casting shadows that made her look gaunt. She flipped over the book and watched her screen, sticking the tip of her tongue out as she concentrated on centering the page over the scanner built into the desktop.

“Hey, cutie, do you mind screen sharing so I can tell you if you can skip any of the pages?”

“Gladly!”

And with that, the digitizing process of the book began in earnest.

* * *

It took less than ten minutes of ginger handling and minimal communication to create a digital version of
Kismet’s Survival Guide
. While Donai and his daughter had worked on the book, Skitt, Jenna, and Arryk had composed a list of questions for Aerigo and Rox pertaining to all things surrounding Kismet’s godless state. Donai listened to them brainstorm and wonder, and suggested a couple of questions, which Jenna typed down on her tablet grellikin. They had to know what happened to their god, if they ever had one, and what it meant for Kismet, before they could ask more questions. Hopefully the two Aigis would not only have time to answer their questions, but also be willing to. If anything, they’d send Jenna in one-on-one, since she’d gotten the most straight answers out of Aerigo so far.

Once the last page was scanned, Misha saved all ninety pages together and emailed them to Donai. He expressed many thanks and promised to bring her home chocolate tomorrow. “And why don’t you come in to Nostrum tomorrow morning? Daddy has two patients that belong to the race of people that are covered in this book. It’d be neat to meet them. They’re a legendary part of Kismet’s history.”

Misha went wide-eyed and inhaled open-mouthed. She broke into a huge grim. “Dad, that would be
so
awesome!”

Donai returned his daughter’s beautiful smile and they wished each other good night, and then he tapped into Kennin’s AI once again. “Welcome back, Kennin. I need you to read a book for us real quick.”

“Of course. Which one?”

Donai opened the message with the book in it. “
Kismet’s Survival Guide
. We have a bunch of questions we need your help with once you’re done.”

“On it, sir. Shall I use all the holo-panels to help narrate my answers?”

“Why not?” Donai and the others pushed their chairs to the side of the room opposite the computer as it rotated on its stand so the screen faced the ceiling. Flaps in the desk and ceiling popped out, and a giant version of the book winked to life in the hologram field. Jenna snuggled up to Arryk and Skitt folded his arms in front of his chest, and tipped back in his chair until the back side balanced against the wall.

Kennin completed his read-through shortly after everyone settled into their new seating arrangement, and showcased the title page. Every last smudge and wrinkle was visible, including a spot where someone had imprinted a handwritten note. There was no ink; just indentations from a loopy handwriting. “Fascinating read. I believe it contains answers you were looking for earlier. However, the sources aren’t reference-able like any history book I can find online. There’s no author either. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. Whoever wrote this book was trying to avoid persecution.” Donai had to contain his excitement. He wanted to call it luck but, after all this anonymously written book had been through, he now understood he was meant to inherit it and expose the truth. “So what exactly happened that made Neo-Joso leave?”

“The psychic Orissona from one of Aerigo’s files actually nailed the truth.” Kennin brought up a page of a faded color photograph of several jets flying straight for outer space. In one corner of it was an explosion with a minute figure dangling from a parachute. In the corner opposite the explosion was a beam of what looked like a ray of sunlight that ran parallel with the intact jets. “This photograph more or less captures the Noma in action. The photographer had witnessed use of some sort of magical power to catch up with the jets and then beat them in the race to outer space, where the entire Neo-Joso armada loomed. There were satellite images of what happened to the armada, but the government destroyed those before the right people could print copies of them.”

“Did the anti-radicals ever see them?”

“Let me share the anonymous author’s description.” Kennin brought up a block of text that hovered below the explosion in the picture behind it. “It says that in under two minutes, half of Neo-Joso’s armada was destroyed by what looked like light energy, but was actually several Nomas wielding their power. There were dozens of explosions, followed by the hasty retreat of the Neo-Josos. The Nomas fell back to Kismet, shielded inside their diminished power. All of them required treatment for burns, along with broken bodies from nasty landings. Because of this, the book contains several interviews with a collection of Nomas.”

Donai’s mouth dropped open. He’d completely forgotten about them. He’d passed this book as a work of fiction the first time he’d come across it. How was he supposed to have known it was nonfiction? He checked his watch. It was getting close to 12:00, the Hour of Ghosts. He started work at the Hour of Dawn. He’d already lost a chunk of sleep. “Kennin, can you give us an abridged version of those interviews for now? It’s getting really late.”