NF 09 - Excalibur 1 - Requiem (c) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2011-01-02T08:00:33.132000+00:00

SI CWAN

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS. It must not be the right block,” said Kalinda, and Si Cwan couldn’t blame her for voicing her mounting frustration.

They had been walking up and down the same general area for half an hour, and had still been unable to find Jereme’s school building, his training center. Even though the students to whom Si Cwan had spoken gave him an exact address, the actual building itself continued to elude them.

The journey to Pulva had not been a particularly comfortable one. The commercial transport had been crowded, and not especially plush. There was an elderly couple that had, astonishingly, never been in space before and they had panic attacks most of the way, and Si Cwan had also been subjected to a small child who insisted on kicking the back of his seat for the first few light-years of the journey. Cwan had silenced him by turning in his seat and giving him a look that would have intimidated a Klingon. “Little boy . . . if you continue to kick this seat . . . I am going to obtain eight-inch spikes, and I will nail your feet to the floor. And the blood. Will flow. Like milk,” and he caressed the last seven words with sadistic enjoyment. The child stared at him, goggle-eyed, and Si Cwan finished, “So stop it.” The child immediately ceased his activities and stayed absolutely paralyzed for the remainder of the voyage. The child’s mother scowled fiercely at Si Cwan, but Si Cwan had looked into the eyes of enough people who had genuinely been prepared to kill him that he found the glares of a miffed mother to be of little consequence.

Upon arriving on Pulva, they had made their way to the location that the students had provided, but were having some degree of difficulty in reaching their destination.

“Why would they give us the wrong address?” demanded Si Cwan. He frowned suspiciously. “Could they want to keep us away for a reason?”

“I don’t know,” said Kalinda in irritation. “I thought you’d been here before.”

“No. Never. And considering the difficulty in finding the place, I’m amazed that anyone can—”

“Ambassador Cwan.”

He and Kalinda turned. There was a young male standing behind them, a Mook. He was slightly stoop-shouldered, as were most of his race. His compound eyes studied them up and down, and his mandibles clicked when he spoke. He was dressed in loose black robes, the style of which Si Cwan knew all too well. Whenever he had lessons with Jereme, that had always been the uniform he’d been required to wear.

“I am Ookla,” said the Mook. “It is an honor to meet you. Jereme always speaks of y—” He stopped and had to correct himself with effort, the verbal hiccup of one who does not wish to deal with referring to someone in the past tense. “Always spoke of you most highly. He said your training and abilities were something that all of us should aspire to.”

“Thank you, Ookla. This,” and he indicated Kalinda, “is my sister, the princess Kalinda.

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