Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

35_HOME

"Cathandra told me something interesting about the Almaron," Celli looked at her companions. "She said that, according to the Code of the Merenthaal, they may not own any property at all. They take a vow of poverty, of sorts, when they are accepted. All they actually own are their clothes and their medallions... and a few personal things, but no real estate and nothing of any trade value." Her friends displayed surprise at this. "She said that the Meloria are different, they have never owned anything and never will – it's not in their nature to do so. By contrast, the Baccaran, who once were Meloria, want to own everything, that's why they are so dangerous."

Celli paused for a few seconds. "And something else about the Almaron – they have to give up their citizenship in their homeworld, which means they have no right to be a ruler there. She said that on some worlds the people, the Cholan, can actually choose their rulers by voting for them..." the others gave her disbelieving looks. "...but when they join the Merenthaal they must give up that right. It's the price of immortality."

"Well," Orion offered, "maybe they are right about everything." He looked up to the ceiling with its gentle curve and diffused light; the artfully arranged garden in the center of the lounge. "I have this... thought... this fear, maybe." Again, he regretted having put his thoughts into words, but he realized that it would have been worse to keep it inside, festering.

The lounge grew very quiet and very still. "What if... what if we are being played." He shrugged, as if this were a trivial thought. "What if..." He leaned in closer and the others followed him. "...this is all about the Merenthaal and the Baccaran? I mean, what if they are the ones fighting for control? What if the Merenthaal want control of Ophilion – and Quarinor?"

The glances that were exchanged betrayed the misgivings the others had. "If, like you said, the Almaron don't own anything, maybe this is what they want to own. They said their home world is on the other side of the galaxy – maybe Ophilion is too far away to matter to the Merenthaal order."

"That doesn't explain why they need us," Celli said.

"I really don't know why they need us," Orion answered.

"Maybe we need them," Fel said, "more than they need us. All they've done is give us things – important things. I don't see why they would be out to dominate our planet. I mean, sure, they're pretty cryptic and keep us in the dark about a lot of things, but I think what they have told us is more likely than not."

"I guess you're right." Orion took a long look at his medallion, then looked to Jenna. "They really work for Togan, right? They have our best interests at heart?"

Jenna was slow to answer. "I believe they do, yes." She knitted her brow. "All we can do now is give it some time and see what we find tomorrow, and the calah after."

"Did anyone get any information about our mission?" Celli asked hopefully. They shook their heads. "I thought as much."

"Apparently we are not ready for that." Orion said with a hint of resentment. "I hope it doesn't involve scraping garbage compactors..." The others smiled. Fel began snickering, and soon they were all laughing and joking and they began to feel better.

***

Twenty-eight days on the Antarious seemed to take a long time to complete even though they were busy and enjoyed almost everything they did. It was a strange sensation: as if time itself had slowed or had expanded. They were somehow able to fit an astonishing amount of activities into each day: theoretical training, learning martial techniques, stealth techniques, discussing strategy, studying written material, physical exercise – and they still had what seemed like plenty of time to relax and play games and stroll around the ship, and have leisurely meals and conversations with each other and with the Antarion.