Cosmic Catalyst (Shamans & Shifters Space Opera Book 2) Read online

  The elderly academic observed us attentively. “If you are asking for confirmation that the Meitj were aware of shifters’ abilities prior to humanity’s evacuation of Earth, the answer is yes.” He paused, middle claws tapping together quietly. “My grandparents assisted in negotiations for humanity’s emergency entry into Galaxy Proper.”

  “Would those be your imperial grandparents?” I asked.

  Professor Summer inclined his head. The movement drew my attention to the glittering facets of his eyes. They had brightened. “Yes, but my other grandparents, the pair involved in charity work, were the driving force. They believed in the sanctity of life, as I do, and in its wonder.”

  You couldn’t blame a people who saved your species for doing so, whatever their reason for involvement.

  Professor Summer ceased tapping his claws. His exoskeleton didn’t allow him to slump as humans did, but there was an impression of a similar droop in his mood; of a decision reached, for better or worse. “My family observed humanity for many generations. The imperial family, and those in its inner circle by virtue of family ties, has guarded the secret of the Ceph for forty two millennia. It has been an immense duty, one that has shaped us.”

  Vulf warned before I could voice my concerns regarding the Ceph. The imprisonment of an entire sentient species: trapping the Ceph in stasis for forty two millennia.

  Professor Summer stared at his desk, at the blank viewscreen embedded in it. “The Ceph were relentless. I have read the secret histories of ancient times. They considered every other species as lesser than them, and their ability to wield sha energy enabled them to conquer solar systems without mercy. They killed and laid waste to planets, taking what they wanted and leaving devastation behind them. Two sentient species went extinct. Those with space-faring capability fled before the advance of the Ceph.”

  He looked up. “The Ceph Theta came to us, to the Meitj, because we and the mLa’an had the most advanced technology as well as political systems that had survived millennia already. The mLa’an refused to have anything to do with Theta, viewing him as a member of the cruel Ceph, but our Emperor saw a chance to save the galaxy. He listened to Theta. The rebel Ceph believed his people couldn’t reach their potential until a power emerged that was strong enough to challenge them, a people that could use sha energy as the Ceph did.”

  We had heard this story from the current Meitj Emperor on Naidoc, with my grandfather objecting strenuously to the Meitj version of history and their justification for entrapping a sentient species in stasis. Ivan’s objections would have carried more weight with me if he hadn’t attempted to destroy a planet and its solar system in pursuit of Ceph freedom, then kidnapped me. Nonetheless, a small part of me, perhaps the lonely child I’d been who’d forged an unequal, secret relationship with Ivan, found that I couldn’t entirely dismiss his challenge to the Meitj’s justification for their actions.

  “The Meitj have searched the galaxy and beyond for any species who could use sha energy as the Ceph did—and we found you. Humanity’s shamans. We watched you for centuries of Earth’s time. We saw you pushed to the fringes of your societies, diminished, ridiculed, unaware of how powerful you could be. Your own people were scared of you and so they reduced your power by convincing you it didn’t exist, or that it was minor, or that you were crazy to feel that there was something more than what your mundane neighbor could perceive.” Professor Summer sounded aggrieved on behalf of my ancestors.

  “But humanity’s behavior taught us to look for who withdrew from your broader society, who was ostracized. And we found the shifter clans. You hid well.” He looked at Vulf. “Of those Meitj who studied Earth’s shamans, most ignored the shifters. My family, however, pursued a theory. If Earth could produce shamans, then your unique ability to shift forms had a high probability of being linked to the same forces that produced shamans. It would be a statistical anomaly for shamans and shifters to be unique to Earth, and yet, not somehow linked.”

  “Well, we’re both human,” Vulf said.

  “Indeed.” Professor Summer tapped the edge of his desk in agreement. “The difficulty my people had in studying Earth was our continuing inability to detect sha energy. Without that, we had to look for possible evidence of its use. Events and changes that couldn’t be explained by the ordinary laws of physics.”

  He stopped. “I am avoiding answering your question, Vulf. This is difficult for me. Intellectually, I knew that this day would come. In fact, I believed that your clan leaders would have challenged me earlier. But friendship has altered us all, and hidden things. From the time my grandparents assisted humanity’s entry into Galaxy Proper, my family has deliberately nurtured our relationship with shifters and shamans.” He barely paused. “For the purposes of ongoing study. For me it became something more. I value my friendship with your family, Vulf.”

  Vulf didn’t soften at the elderly Academic’s evident distress or his reminder of their friendship. “You, all the Meitj, have done a lot for the shifter clans. What I’m wondering is how much you’ve done.”

  Professor Summer opened a desk drawer, extracted a cloth, and passed it over his glittering multi-faceted eyes. “You refer to your isolation?” His voice had a whistling, despairing edge to it.

  Vulf’s hand tightened around mine. He’d guessed the nature and purpose of the Meitj’s involvement with the shifters, but now his respected family friend was confirming it. The story was tough on both of them. On me, too, if I was honest. Did everyone’s goodwill come with strings attached or spring from devious self-interest? I didn’t hold out much hope for Professor Summer’s explanation.

  Nor did the elderly academic. His body language was defensive, something apparent even across species. He stood behind his chair and the claws of his upper appendages gripped it in a clutch-and-release motion. He was perturbed. “I’ve read my grandparents’ notes on humanity’s evacuation of Earth. There was a lot of terror. Humans found my people especially alien. The Sidhe ended up filling the role of Galaxy Proper’s representatives, while the Meitj worked in the background.”

  The Sidhe were much like humans, although the underlying tint of their skin was green rather than the warm tones of humanity, and their ears were pointed. Nonetheless, there was a comforting familiarity to their appearance. Many humans still chose to work with Sidhe rather than other aliens when they ventured beyond humanity’s planets.

  Professor Sidhe released the back of his chair. It swiveled slightly. “The Sidhe were our front men in a number of ways.”

  Vulf leaned forward. “The Sidhe provided the shifter clans with our first starships. They gave us a market for pirate booty. They showed us the ropes for the less legal operations of the galaxy. And they did that on your orders.” It was an accusation.

  “We paid them to.” Professor Sidhe snapped the air with one agitated claw. “My grandparents hadn’t considered—none of the Meitj at the time of Earth’s evacuation—had considered that on leaving Earth shifters might lose their ability to shift. My grandmother suggested that the situation where your ancestors were limited to human form might have been a response to the stress of the Evacuation and of establishing new lives in Galaxy Proper. However, time passed and you still didn’t shift. Those among my people who were observing the shifter clans worried. If you couldn’t shift, and genetic testing couldn’t determine where the original ability to shift was stored in your DNA, then the most efficient way to ensure that shifters’ unique, currently hidden abilities weren’t diluted would be to ensure that you chose partners among yourselves.”

  Vulf stood. “Did the Meitj foster the belief in mate bonds to encourage this inbreeding?”

  “No. No, Vulf.” Professor Summer shook his head. “We were concerned about the future of shifters, but your own clans were frantic. Mate bonds have always been revered by shifters.” He paused. “It must be wonderful to feel so close to your partner.” He tapped his thorax and
refocused. “The reality of mate bonds wasn’t cynically exploited to encourage reproduction among yourselves. But your leadership’s decision to stake out an independent existence from the majority of humanity was influenced by such considerations of identity as much as by shifters’ restlessness.”

  “And you made it possible. You, as in, the Meitj.” I could feel the sha energy in the room swirling and coiling with my distress. “Vulf and I talked about this on the journey here. With humanity so new to Galaxy Proper and rushed from Earth in the Evacuation, there’s no way the shifters’ clans could have so swiftly established a successful pirate fleet and a planet if you hadn’t provided behind-the-scenes backing. You facilitated the shifters’ independence, and hence, isolation, from the rest of humanity.”

  Professor Summer passed the cloth over his eyes again. “Yes.”

  “You meddled in our lives.” Vulf’s voice was even.

  I felt his sense of betrayal.

  “Do you consider us lesser creatures?” Vulf asked.

  “Vulf! No.” The professor stretched out his middle appendages in appeal.

  A tiny fraction of the tension holding Vulf rigid relaxed.

  “Your people wanted to go in the direction my people wanted them to go,” Professor Summer implored our understanding and forgiveness. “We helped you, but we didn’t decide for you. I swear it.”

  “Yet you left San Juan to develop as an ordinary human society, despite the shamans at the heart of it,” I said.

  “Oh dear.” Professor Summer folded himself back into his chair. He moved stiffly. “Jaya, the situation of shamans is far more complicated than that of the shifter clans. The shifters could choose their future.”

  Vulf moved close to me, solid and immovable. If he could, he’d shield me from all trouble.

  I wouldn’t let him, but I understood the impulse. I wanted to do the same for him, but all I’d been able to do was be with him as Professor Summer confirmed the outside influence that had helped shape the shifters’ existence in Galaxy Proper.

  Instead of being truly independent, as shifters had proudly believed, they were following a path the Meitj had guided them down. Would the shifters, my family, have chosen that path anyway?

  The professor folded his middle appendages against his body, claws gripped together. “The shifters chose independence from the rest of humanity, and humanity let them. At the risk of offending you further after what you must already consider a betrayal…I think it reflects badly on the majority of humanity that they didn’t try harder to maintain connection with the shifters.”

  “We are pirates,” Vulf said.

  “Buccaneers, recognized under Galaxy Proper laws. The Sidhe set up your Letters of Marque adequately. Humanity should have welcomed the proof you offered that as a species you were not to be disrespected. Indeed, many negotiations would have gone worse for humanity without the reputation of the shifter pirate fleet.”

  Vulf frowned. “Humanity’s governments don’t recognize us, why would we be a threat to anyone who cheated or opposed them?”

  “It is enough that you prove humanity can defend itself and, if it so wishes, attack.”

  “Huh.” Vulf sunk into thought. It was revolutionary to consider that the ignored, and to some extent, despised, shifters served as humanity’s protectors.

  As interesting as the notion was—and as much as people like President Hoffer deserved to have their noses rubbed in that truth, something I was sure Cyrus would do once Vulf reported this conversation—my focus was different. I required more detail on the professor’s insight into shamans’ relationship with broader humanity. After all, that was a major element of my current troubles. Before I could ask, he tapped his claws against the arms of his chair.

  “On Earth, the vast majority of humanity could afford to diminish and ridicule shamans. Or they believed that they could. Perhaps if they’d refrained, Earth may not have been lost to its nuclear winter. Wisdom…” Professor Summer trailed off. “But now is not the time to consider what-might-have-beens. The Charter of Galactic Union makes it abundantly clear that while humanity on the whole is considered worthless, shamans are prized. Envy and frustration eat at your leadership. We hoped that in disposing of the leadership from Earth, new and better government would take its place, but within seven generations, you have the same self-interested game-playing substituting for moral leadership.”

  Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

  Professor Summer made a whistling sound. “Jaya, my dear, everyone must make choices in life. For most of us, those choices may be dire for ourselves, but their impact is limited. For you, the decisions you make have the potential to change Galaxy Proper. None of the Meitj predicted the extent of your shamanic talent. We may have hoped that a shaman such as yourself would emerge at some point…after humanity had grown the ability to accept your power for the wonder that it is would have been preferable. As it is, your species’ ability for catastrophic games of brinkmanship will likely cloud profounder conflicts.”

  He tapped his claws together. “Vulf is rightly suspicious of my people’s meddling in humanity’s affairs. Some theorists believe that the mere act of observation alters events. On balance, I believe—I hope—that the shifter clans in particular have chosen their own path. In the end, all that we can hope to achieve is to be true to ourselves. Shifters have known and practiced that truth for centuries. None of us will ever comprehend all the influences that press upon our lives, but we must choose who we are, what we believe in, and then, give everything to living our decisions.”

  “What if Jaya and I simply left? If we retreated somewhere no one could find us?”

  I stared at Vulf.

  He stared at Professor Summer.

  The elderly Meitj shook his head slowly. “You could, but it would do violence to who you both are. You are warriors.”

  “I’m not,” I objected.

  Scratchy noises reverberated in Professor Summer’s thorax. They were the unfamiliar sound of Meitj laughter. When he spoke again, the sighing, whistling regret in his voice had vanished. He was brisk. “Vulf, I suspect that Cyrus, at least, has entertained similar suspicions to yours as to Meitj meddling in your clans’ affairs. Talk with him. Jaya.” Professor Summer came around the desk and his upper arms extended till he gently rested his claws on my shoulders. “Ignore my dire ramblings. You have your mate and his formidable family standing with you. Choose only to live a good life and be happy.” He moved around me to the door. “Now, I am sorry to hustle you out, but if you stay, I will fall again into the temptation of overwhelming you with my concerns. My nephew has stated on many occasions that more data does not always lead to better decisions. In fact, it may delay and confuse them. So, good-bye.” He clasped Vulf’s hand in his. “And forgive me, please, because I value our friendship.”

  “I will talk with Cyrus,” Vulf said, and it was a promise to attempt forgiveness.

  Professor recognized it as such. “Thank you.”

  He closed the door behind us.

  Vulf and I released deep sighs, simultaneously. I laughed and a wry smile curved his mouth. We were under surveillance wherever we went on Origin, but not even the most advanced Sidhe technology could eavesdrop on a telepathic conversation.

 

 

  We strolled across the walkway suspended above a concert hall and into a secondary dome in the Meitj university building.

 

  I’d checked my communicator while on the Orion, and the chancellor had left me a message; short but worrying. “Be careful, Jaya,” she’d said. “Choose wisely.”

  Now here
was Professor Summer echoing her as he warned me that I faced major decisions.

  Vulf stopped.

  I counted on my fingers.

  Vulf resumed walking.

 

  Vulf growled his disgust. Freels had a bad reputation, and as a bounty hunter, he’d brought a number of them in to face justice.

  We exited the dome into a sunny afternoon. Students of all species were involved in a game of kickball on the wide lawn.

  Nearer to us, Alex lounged against the barrel trunk of a massive cactus.

  I don’t know if I telepathed his name in warning, explanation, shock or something else. I’d told Vulf of Alex’s discussion with me on San Juan, and the history between us. But possibly Vulf got a deeper sense of my emotional response to Alex’s existence in that one telepathic identification of him.

  At any rate, my mate sprang forward and grabbed my one-time foster father by the front of his dark blue utility suit and lifted him high.

  I reached for sha energy, ready to combat anything Alex used against Vulf.

  But the Shaman Justice simply allowed himself to be lifted in the air and shaken.

  The students’ kickball game ceased as they focused on Vulf and Alex. Even without one of them contacting security, with the level of surveillance on this planet, security guards would be here in seconds.

  I pushed out sha energy to sense for the security response. Then decided to be safe rather than sorry, and moved closer to Vulf to enclose a sha shield around us, and by default, around Alex, too.