We had made a connection at a screening station. The techs were to join us shortly. In the meantime, we quietly watched the many bizarre iterations of the Olipharean race. There were, of course, the lumbering elephantine iterations with their large gilded toenails. Many of their kind wore pink skins. They sat at booths and tables, some with tusks and some without, dressed in brightly colored vests and trousers. Their long noses curled back as they spoke. We saw the bovine iteration and the rare urs iteration with their bear-like heads and claws. I was surprised to see so many humanoid iterations with bright blue skins but the thing that surprised me the most was the server that came to our table with a printed menu.

The hairy primate froze in place when Ava hooted and clicked in alarm. I was aware of many Olipharean iterations, but I was not aware that any of them opted for the primate form. The short brown male wore a red vest and black bow tie, loose khaki shorts, and bright green sandals. A long tail protruded from a hole in the shorts and it coiled nervously at Ava’s approach. The hair on his face formed a mask of pale brown whiskers and umber eye patches. Wary of Ava’s advance, the server turned his face away in caution as Ava leaned in, nostrils flaring.

He spoke tentatively in a thick accent, “Cycle eights? Cycle nines? I am your man. I am Bermesh. I will take your order.”

Ava took one of the server’s ears between finger and thumb, pulling him to her so that he stood off balance on one foot. “No man. No Kee. Explain,” she demanded.

Bermesh batted away her hand with the tip of his long tail and regained his balance with an angry huff. “Creature, desist,” he said indignantly. “I am Olipharean. Cycle twelve.”

Ava clicked excitedly. I stood and drew her into the booth, sitting between her and the server. I said to Him, “I am pleased to meet you, Bermesh. I will have water. Thank you.”

Ava leaned in close and said to me, “Be careful, Jeez. Monkey is trickster.”

I was on the verge of an amused smile when the server, with widening eyes, said to me, “Ah! You are the heir. You must speak to Bha Huda. Leader to leader.” He turned and sprinted away.

We waited patiently. I sipped my water and shared it with Ava. My guards stood and sat several times, bored and impatient. Finally, the techs came to us and stood before the table. They would not sit so I stood and faced them. They were polite and inclined toward a quiet calm. They began with the Olipharean greeting, placing their palms together before their faces. I followed suit and thanked them for seeing me in their free time.

“I want to ask about my father,” I said to them. “I do not get regular reports.”

“The fault is ours,” said the one I could not tell from the other. They turned to look at one another, then the other tech spoke. “We will correct the deficit.”

They paused and stood quietly. I asked, “Is there any improvement, any news at all?”

“Sadly, no,” said the tech on the left.

The tech on the right said, “Pattern degradation increases. All we may reasonably accomplish is continuing stasis.”

“Oh,” I said, downcast. “May I see him?”

“At your pleasure, heir. We will take our leave.” That was the tech on the left.

As they walked away, I seated myself and sighed. Ava placed her cheek against my back in an attempt to comfort me. My guards stood over me, awaiting my call. I looked up and said, “Well, I guess that’s all for here.”

Barachiel answered, “I say we take a transport tree to see your father.”

Khamuel said, nodding, “I agree.”

I stood and replied, “Thanks. Both of you. No. I think I’ll go back to the Seed Ship.” I suddenly felt weary and sad.

As we turned to leave, Bermesh scampered up to us, calling from behind. “Heir. Heir, please wait.”

I stopped and turned. Ava bristled. Bermesh side-stepped her, stopping to place a hand on his small chest. He said, “Bha Huda will speak to you.”

I entered the room alone. Ava and my guards stood at the open door. I walked across a carpeted floor to an overly decorated seat upon which sat an Olipharean of the blue humanoid iteration. It was Bha Huda. I had not known of Bha Huda before my trip to the Ravana but the manner in which his name had been spoken seemed charged with dark energy. I recalled that Bermesh had used the language, ‘leader to leader,’ and I felt somewhat on edge. I was barely past Siri’s foiled assassination attempt and there I was, facing another challenger.

We took a quiet moment to assess one another. He wore nothing more than loose white fabric wound around his waist and legs in the fashion of trousers. His hair was blacker than black and a large mustache seemed to cut his face into an upper and lower section. His eyes and lips seemed slightly swollen. Dark brown eyes looked back at me as a slow smile commanded the lower section of his face. It was a smile that was not reflected in his eyes.

“Ah! Heir to the throne. Good. Good,” he said. “You and I, we have the power. Is this not so?”

I replied, “Power is not a service to the people.”

“Ha!” It was a laugh without mirth. He said, “I understand that your people worship you as my people worship me. Does that not make you and me responsible? Should we not, then, how do I say, take the reins?”

I did not like the direction he had taken. I said, “Our races have always had, and will continue to have, only one leader. Siri challenged the throne and now she is dead. Her people are under house arrest and warriors of the highest orders now command the Maker’s vessels. I am sure there are plenty more warriors to go around.”

I couldn’t believe I had just taken such a tone. The harsh edge of my voice reminded me of my father. I scared myself, and by the look on Bha Huda’s blue face, I had caused him no small amount of concern. He studied me with wide eyes as I tried not to fidget and look guilty. I felt the tension between us. We were both aware I had taken off my gloves. I checked mentally to make sure my fists were not clenched.

Bha Huda stood from his seated posture and walked toward me, stopping a mere hand before me. He looked into my eyes and nodded. Actually, his head seemed to bobble on his fat, creased neck. I felt negative reactions racing through my mind unchecked. They worried me but I did not wish to flinch after such a bold performance. I stood there, back straight, jaw set. I had no idea how my rash statement would affect our meeting. For all I knew, Bha Huda might slap me for my insolence. He was, obviously, revered among his people. No more than a few beats of my vestigial heart had transpired, but I was fully enthralled in the imagination of another assault on my person. I pictured my guards rushing to my defense. All of that passed when Bha Huda smiled.

“You have the deep fire,” he declared prudently. “You are the son of the father. That you are. No. I challenge nothing, heir. The throne is yours.”

He returned to his seat, folding his legs beneath him and placing his palms on both knees. I had the sudden urge to apologize but I checked my impulse. I had already taken a stand. Bha Huda looked up at me with his round face tilted to one side in contemplation. I had not moved. I think I was waiting to be dismissed. Bha Huda’s well-rounded smiles rolled in and out like waves in a sea. I could see another smile coming so I waited for him to speak.

He said, at last, “I take the reins of my people’s minds. I lead them spiritually. My people, heir, they are torn in their desires. Please accept my petition to speak on this at your leisure. Come to me when you choose. You will find me here. Until then, blessings to the one who burns within.”

I responded, “I will speak with you, Bha Huda. May your hands upon the reins be gentle and true.” I turned and left.

As I stepped past my two guards, they assessed me with surprised expressions, with respect in their eyes, or perhaps, it was my imagination. Just beyond them, in the lounge, I met someone I had not expected to see. I was at a loss and I felt that it showed. She stood before me in her penitent’s gown, her long white hair braided and falling down her back. I was not the only one surprised to see her. Ava, at a bristling distance from my sister, stood with open mouth.

With a sly smile on her face, Imabelai said, “Impressive.”