Heart of a Warrior

30

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"DON'T BACKTRACK ON ME, GIRL," MARTHA SAID IN A sharply annoyed tone, somehow reading Brittany's mind just from her expression. "I've delayed Dalden getting here with the takeoff. He hates takeoffs, hates spaceships, hates space travel, and will be glued to a chair right now just as tightly as you are. His planet is not high-tech, if you haven't gathered that by now, but since they've been discovered, they've been forced to deal with the rest of the universe, which wants one of their resources. Now, you were accepting everything you've been told for a moment. Don't revert back to thinking we're trying to pull one over on you."

"I've seen space movies, Martha, and seen how they do the special effects to make them look real."

"And I thought Tedra wrote the book on being stubborn," Martha mumbled, then, in a more perky voice, asked, "How would you like to walk on the moon?"

"Are you out of your mind?"

A chuckle. "There you go mistaking me for a person again. The more apt comment would be 'out of your motherboard'." Another chuckle. "No, it won't take but a moment to land there, we've landed. And we happen to have an emergency exit here in the Control Room that I'm opening-"

"Wait! Don't do that! Don't I need a spacesuit? The atmosphere isn't breathable-"

"Not to worry, kiddo. This battleship is capable of landing on a planet, no matter what it's made of, and creating its own air. I've released a domed shield around the ship and filled it with a breathable substance. Go ahead, the platform extending out from the door works like an elevator to lower you to the surface, currently in single-person length. It can be further extended to accommodate up to thirty people comfortably. The enclosing handrails will retract as soon as it touches ground, so you can get off."

Brittany stepped to the door-way. She didn't step on the short platform. Some twenty or thirty feet below was the surface-of the moon. She began to laugh, and only half hysterically. The moon, and she was within mere feet of it. A few rocky bumps, a few dents, but otherwise a flat gray surface lit almost white by the overhead lights on the dome. Beyond was infinite black space-the sun didn't reach this side of the moon. But inside, the dome was well-lit. It was a large dome, mammoth. It encompassed a really big ship.

"You're not going outside?"

"No, I'd rather our astronauts hold that distinction. They went through hell to get up here, while you make it seem like mere child's play."

"Sweetie, you're comparing apples and oranges. This battleship, which makes this seem like child's play to you, was designed by a people that have been in existence for more than twelve million years. How many years have your people been evolving? Look at your own age of inventions. In just a few hundred years, just about all the known improvements of your world came into being: electricity, flight, mass communication, convenient travel, and so forth. Look at your history and what you had available prior to these inventions. And imagine what you will create a thousand years from now. Your people are progressing normally; they are just still young compared to some of the worlds in other solar systems. If it's any consolation, there are other worlds out there younger than yours that haven't advanced nearly as far as yours has."

Brittany glanced back at the console. "Really?"

"Most definitely. Take Jorran's planet, Century III, for instance. Medieval in government, advancement, and mentality. They've been discovered, could buy modernization, but prefer their feudal way of life and a government that favors only a select few, the ruling house. And until those High Kings get toppled in revolution, nothing will change there. Another thousand years could pass and they'd still be medieval.

"Jorran is one of those High Kings of Century III, but the only one without his own kingdom," Martha continued. "It was his intention, with the rods he stole from the planet Sunder, to make your country his kingdom first, then your entire world. He might have succeeded. The Sunderans haven't reached the space age yet, either, so they couldn't track Jorran down to retrieve their rods. We just happened to be passing by on our way home and picked up their distress call-and knew Jorran for the jerk he is, so we decided to put canceled to his plans. Our good deed for the century, you could call it."

"So you didn't have to come after him?"

"No, indeed. But by the time the proper authorities could have been notified to pursue him, he would have been long gone. And even if they could have found him eventually, the damage would have been done. We already had him on tracking, were able to follow him, were the only ones who had a chance of stopping him before he ruined too many lives."

"And Sha-Ka'an?" Brittany said. "How does it fit in the age of development?"

"Sha-Ka'an is unique. It's not really barbaric, that's just a convenient name the modern worlds give it. It's perfected some crafts beyond manufactured quality without the pollution of factories, has an ancient formula for making the strongest steel ever created that even a laser can't penetrate, has palatial-like architecture in some of its cities, regulates birth control as well as sexual aggression, treats gold like you would common metals-"

"How can they regulate sexual aggression?"

Martha chuckled. "With another thing unique to their planet, the dhaya plant. The juice made from it will put even the strongest sex drive on temporary hold, and no amount of stimulation can break through its effect until it wears off naturally. In wine form it will prevent pregnancy."

Brittany frowned. "Why would they want to do away with sexual aggression?"

"Hold up, you've gotten the wrong impression. Dhaya Juice is only taken in certain situations, when the warriors go off to hunt alone-and when they raid."

Brittany made a face. "Are we getting to the part that gives them their 'barbarian' label?"

"You betcha-at least, part of it. There's a difference, though, from what you're thinking. You hear the word raid and associate it with killing, pillage, mayhem. That's not what Sha-Ka'ani warriors are about. They don't go to war with each other. There are a lot of countries, each with their own leaders, but all in all, they consider themselves one. Raiding for them is sport, something fun to do. They'll go in, take something from their neighbor, try to keep it, but if the neighbor raids and retrieves it, they'll shrug and say well done."

"So it's just a game to them?"

"That's one way to put it. As for the other reasons for the label they wear, I've already mentioned it's a cultural thing, the way they view things and view themselves, the antiquated laws they uphold. These things differ slightly per country, yet one thing is universal on the planet. Warriors treat each other as equals, but treat their women like children."

"Excuse me?"

"You have enough to assimilate for now without getting into the things that still drive my Tedra nuts. And Dalden will be here in about five seconds. He'll be glad to know you no longer think you're dreaming."

"Like children?" Brittany persisted. "You were joking, right?"

No answer, and the main door to the Control Room slid open to reveal seven feet of very annoyed male.