Lawrence Schoen - Barsk - The Elephants' Graveyard

What had she done to him?

MARGDAcontinued her circuit through the yard until she’d chatted, however briefly, with every one of the Dying Fant. The wrongness of it grated, but the yearning to gaze once more upon her people pulled her through it. She’d died long ago. The nefshons that had been pulled together by Lirlowil included some of her last. She had reached the final island that all of these tragic souls had been denied. When this was all done, she would never see their like again. She hid behind the façade of the Lutr’s body, ignoring custom to be with other Fant one last time.

And through it all, she practiced her control over Lirlowil’s telepathy.

Her attack on the Ailuros who had struck Jorl had been both reflexive and yet restrained. She’d reached out, wrenching at the guard’s mind much as she had to that other Panda on the station, but with greater focus and a lighter touch. Nor had she let the flood of memories pour into her borrowed brain, as they had the last time. Instead she’d deftly turned them aside, incapacitating the Ailuros and not herself. And in doing so, she’d begun to see how to use this ability.

She reached out to the next Eleph she met, clamping down on the power like she had squeezed off Lirlowil’s access to it. The technique was remarkably similar, and the analogy of limiting the flux created the means to practice control. Her new telepathy grazed the Fant, as delicate as the nubs of her trunk might caress a loved one’s cheek. A general sense of numbness echoed back, accompanied by the barest spark of interest that lived far below the Eleph’s conscious awareness.

She closed off that contact and extended a touch to a second Fant, pushing deeper, envisioning that one’s mind like a mighty tree and her probe as no more than a wayward leaf carried to it on the wind. She pulled back surface thoughts, curiosity at the Lutr and her Ailuros companion, surprise that one of the guards had collapsed, distaste that the young Lox continued to bear witness to the shame of the Dying, resolve at the recent brutality by some Taxi. Margda ended that contact as well, completed a few audible pleasantries. She moved on.

A light rain, really little more than a mist, had begun to fall. Almost beneath the level of her own awareness she sensed a slight sigh that emanated from the Fant. Something familiar and welcome in the midst of so much strangeness. Surely also a sign that she had achieved some tipping point with the borrowed telepathy. Margda traveled through the entire yard and visited with all of the Fant. She touched and skimmed and read enough minds and memories to feel comfortable with the ability, and powerful enough to reach into any mind and pursue what she needed. Unlike with the Pandas, she could not easily search through deeper memories. The Dying Fant had already let most of them go. It seemed as if large portions of their minds had already shut, sectioning off more and more of the past. That life was over for them and at some unconscious level they’d made peace with it and allowed their pasts to fade.

She’d also exhausted the Otter’s body beyond sensibility, which in this instance had the surprising benefit of keeping Lirlowil’s waking consciousness from regaining control while Margda practiced her telepathic ability. One final test remained. She had just turned away from the last cluster of Fant and caught sight of the second of the day’s food deliveries. Riding on the lip of the automated trough was an Urs, and though Lirlowil had only met him once, that single encounter had burned his image into her so deeply that Margda had no difficulty recognizing the Bear major, Krasnoi.

He stepped from the trough as it came to a halt and continued at a brisk pace toward his Lutr asset and the remaining guard. The nearer Fant shuffled away, ostensibly to sample from the trough. Margda reached out in this new manner and slipped a probe into Krasnoi’s mind, finding interest and irritation and surprise.

“I found your earlier suggestion intriguing enough to bring you down to the planet. It becomes less compelling when I add in that you’ve induced brain hemorrhages in at least one and now possibly two of the guards assigned to you.”

The weariness of her borrowed body began to weigh on Margda, but the prize was so close. She persevered.

“I presume you’ve read all the reports I’ve submitted. I’ve certainly read all your procedure manuals, followed your guidelines. I’ve wasted most of my time researching a handful of Fant to the point where I could summon them. I spent only a few minutes of telepathic probing on each once I had them in front of me and gained nothing of use. Whereas in one brutal, draining afternoon down here I have mentally interrogated your captives more thoroughly and painlessly than your squad of sadistic Badgers.”

Krasnoi scowled at her, though Margda read the increased interest in his mind. She’d intrigued him, and saw his question an instant before he gave it voice.

“And have you learned anything of value?”

“Three things, actually.” She waited, feeling the shift of power, knowing that reveling in smug superiority was one of her weaknesses but not caring.

“And those are?”

“First, that the expert knowledge you seek is mainly found in the hands of professionals whom the Fant call pharmers , pharmacological specialists. It’s an obnoxious bit of wordplay that was coined by the first generation born here. They’re trained in botany, biochemistry, and physics.”

“And do any of the Fant here self-identify as pharmers?”

“That’s the second thing. No, not a one. None of them have any information of use to you. You’ve completely wasted your time. This entire operation, abducting the Dying because no one would miss them, has earned you absolutely nothing.”

Had she pushed too far? She saw the anger in his mind before it bloomed on his face. But no, he was first and foremost a pragmatist. A salutatory trait among the Urs, and one Margda had herself cultivated.

“And what, then, was your third insight?”

“Your accidental acquisition, the younger Fant with the silly mark on his head? He has a friend who is a pharmer.”

“How does that help me? I abducted him, not his friend.”

“You couldn’t have abducted his friend. He’s dead.”

“Then what is your point? We have nothing!”

Margda allowed her body to smile, her satisfaction finding a waiting analog in the muscles of Lirlowil’s face, producing the kind of grin that threatened to push the Bear too far.

“Have you forgotten the other reason you chose me, Major? I can talk to the dead.”

“Then why haven’t you done so, Woman? Enough of your games!”

“Learning these facts for you has left me physically and mentally exhausted. But more to the point, I don’t have any koph here. The supply you provided for my work is back on the station. Without it, I’m no more a Speaker than you are.”

The brightness of success that shone through the Bear’s mind shattered her fragile connection and Margda didn’t bother to establish another one. Things were moving along as she needed them.

Krasnoi nodded to the Ailuros who had been studiously ignoring the conversation. “Escort our talented Speaker back through the base. Acquire whatever you need to re-equip your shuttle and return her to her rooms on the station with best speed. The fruition of all our efforts is close at hand.”

“Yes, Urs-Major.”

“Lirlowil, I fault myself for not thinking to use you as you have done today. Your timing is inspired, though. I’ve received a transmission from the chair of the Senate’s Committee of Information. He intends to review our progress himself. Take what rest you require on the trip back to the station. Once you have your koph, get to work and acquire the information I need. Failing the senator is not an option. Do you understand me?”