Michael Hudson - Thieves of Light

"I'm not asking you to give him his ring."

"You would allow him to participate in our great mission before he has earned his Guardian's ring?"

"For this one, I would make an exception."

"This is more than an exception. It is completely without precedent. What do you see in him that can justify such measures?"

Li-hon's voice was solemn and vibrant with emotion. "He is the missing element that will make the Ninth whole again." He paused. "And me whole, as well."

"What do you mean? In what way are you injured?"

Li-hon smiled faintly. "Haven't you noticed, First Guardian? Surely it's not lost on you that I haven't been on a sortie myself for half a cycle, since Marika Krill was killed. It's been easy to arrange-no partner, so much administrative work, so much demand for me as instructor, the Sixth and Fourteenth fighting so well in our sector."

"Those are valid reasons."

"I know they are," Li-hon said. "But the real reason is I'm tired inside. I need someone like Bhodi, someone with his enthusiasm, to make me want to fight again."

It was the First Guardian's turn to pause. "Very well, Nar-lex-ko-li-hon. Let us discuss it."

Parcival hated going to Dracona alone, and for several good reasons. He was treated better as Uncle Pike's companion than he ever was on his own. The completely shameless mating manners of the Ikthalarians made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, and Pike always seemed to manage to steer him away from such sights.

But the most important reason was more practical. He was too short to see through the ubiquitous crowds, and without Pike there to sweep the way clear, Parcival had trouble even moving through them. With his build, he got the worst of every bump and jostle, and sometimes felt like he was being swept along like flotsam on a biotic tide.

All of those problems made searching for someone particularly vexing. He had been in nine of the gameries so far, and though a few people thought they had seen Bhodi Li, Parcival had not really picked up his trail yet. It was beginning to look as though it would be a long search. Then he entered Alia's Arcade.

There was a noisy argument going on in one corner of the sunken gaming floor, but the crowd was thinner than in most of the establishments he had visited. That and the raised entryway were the key to Parcival spotting Bhodi, perched in the player's cage-something like the basket used on the back of an elephant- of the K'arli Hunter machine. With a sigh of relief, Parcival paid the pass fee and made his way across the gaming floor to him.

Bhodi's attention was fully focused on the targets appearing on the wraparound screen, and he did not notice Parcival standing to his left. So when a brief break between rounds came, Parcival spoke up.

"What are you up to, Chris?"

Bhodi took one sideways glance to confirm who had spoken, then shouldered the heavy dart thrower. "Forty-two hundred points. Not too good, huh? But at least there's no one telling me I'm not allowed to score any more."

"That isn't what I meant."

The action picked up, the screen filling with needle-toothed K'arli on the wing, and Bhodi did not answer. But when a fanfare signaled the end of the game, Bhodi slid down, turned away from the machine, and replied, "I know what you meant. You want to know why I cut out on you and came down here."

"Not exactly, Chris. It's pretty obvious what you're doing. I'm just not quite sure why."

"I've got reasons enough," he said offhandedly. Then his gaze narrowed quizzically. "Say-why are you calling me Chris again?"

Parcival shrugged. "Just seemed like you've made your choice about which name really fits."

"Hey-what are you trying to say? Are you calling me a coward?"

"No. I guess I'm calling you a dropout."

"Listen, it's not my fault."

"No? Then it wasn't your idea to come down here instead of showing up to work with me?"

"Don't bust my chops."

"Hey, I don't take it personally," Parcival said. "I figure it's a compliment that you didn't get bored with me before this. I guess you've been cutting out on other people for two weeks now."

Bhodi sighed. "Do you want something to drink? If you really want to talk about this, it's going to take a while."

Parcival scanned around the room. "Do they have anything here that we can drink?"

"No-but The Eclectic across the street does," he said, nudging Parcival and pointing toward the door. "I've been there twice already today."

The contents of Bhodi's glass looked like cream soda but tasted like the birch beer it was advertised to be. The untouched glass in front of Parcival contained a chocolate milk that he had pronounced undrinkably bitter.

"I'm not going to fight their prejudice anymore," Bhodi was saying. "I don't know why you can't see it. They don't like humans, and they aren't about to let any more of them into the Force. I thought Li-hon was on my side, but something's happened to him, too. Maybe he's been pressured by the others."

"You don't understand anything about the Alliance," Parcival said, shaking his head.

"I suppose you're going to educate me."

"No," Parcival said. "I don't think you're ready to hear anything that disagrees with what you're already sure is true."

Bhodi leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Look, I thought we were friends. Or at least starting to be."

"Then stop treating me as the enemy. Didn't I level with you when we picked you up? Wasn't everything I told you a hundred percent true?"

"Yeah," Bhodi acknowledged. "You were-and it was."

"Then listen to me. There's no prejudice. None that counts. Sure, Tivia can't stand men, and Lord Baethan can't stand full-biologicals. But neither one of them would let that stand in the way of beating the Arrians. What they want from you-"

At that moment, the clear crystal in Parcival's copper-colored Guardian's ring began to pulse, and the ring itself to chirrup like a cricket. "That's okay," Bhodi said, slumping back in his chair. "Go on. You've got something more important to do."

"That's the signal for a check-in, not a muster," Parcival said, craning his head until he spotted the com hood, a fixture in every establishment in Dracona. "I'll be back."

In three minutes, Parcival returned to the table. "I've got to go upstairs."

"I figured-"

"They wanted to know if I'd found you. If I had, they wanted me to tell you that you've been assigned to the Ninth as combat aide for the sortie we're about to go out on."

"I don't under-"

"They also said that if I hadn't found you, not to look for you anymore-that they would send you home when you finally decided to show up." Parcival folded his hands over his chest. "So, Chris, tell me-have I found you?"

"What are you talking about?" Bhodi said, bouncing up. "This is what I wanted! I don't understand it, but I'm not going to ask. Let's go."

Since they were dependent on the Dracona shuttle for their return to Intellistar, Bhodi and Parcival were the last to report in. They found that the rest of the expedition and even their own gear had already been transported up to the Ninth Platoon's carrier. Zephyr. The blunt-nosed twin-tailed star fighter was in a high geosynchronous parking orbit around Rejia-as Bhodi learned, one jewel in a glittery necklace ringing the planet.

"I thought our ship'd be here at the docks," Bhodi said as they checked in at the transport station's touchpoint.

"There's not enough room down here for all of the platoon carriers and couriers and scouts," Parcival said, accepting the travel orders offered up by the station-keeper. "But there's more than twelve hundred slots up there, a quarter of a degree apart."

There was a minor backlog at the outbound transporter, and they took their place in line. "You have that many ships?"