Third Cataract 2

Chapter 2

I paused in the doorway leading out onto the Terrace. The desk clerk who checked me into Shepheard's Hotel and the interactive information guide in my suite invited me to mingle here with the other guests before meals. My accommodations included breakfast and dinner sittings. The documentation referred to this level of orderliness as "old earth charm". These were the beings I would be spending a considerable amount of time with while I sorted things out for myself far from Coalition shipping lanes, far from the Mother's World, far from, I hoped, anyone who could endanger me.

I felt a restriction around my heart when I remembered Mother's World. Then I shook myself, dismissing the thought. Ship placed this thought in the trash. I was born in space on one of the Institute's orbiting satellites. My kind had never been welcome on Panthera. androgynes were the Coalition's work force and not entitled, except for a few carefully designed service lines, to step foot on Mother's World. As a runner, the purpose of my life and work focused on space. Until recently, I never imagined I would go planet side for any reason.

Now here I stood upright on my hind legs, looking beyond the railing, perceiving but not analyzing the vast exotic garden at ground level, seeing the red rocks at the base of the dome, taking in the ruggedness of the red cliffs in front of me. I am no expert on landscapes, however, the one I saw beyond the dome could only be described as both barren and hostile. None of the beings on the Terrace, including me, could survive out there without special equipment.

I blinked. Hadn't there been a red-shirted person in front of me? A shout went up from those closest to the railing. Had he gone over? Then he was standing there again, triumphant, laughing, very pleased with himself.
"A PTD," the woman, no higher than my elbow, said dismissively.
PDT?" If I had to ask aloud, Ship didn't have this information.
personal Teleporting Device."
Now information flooded my mind. Illegal in the Coalition. Developed on the Southern Frontier. Very, very expensive. And here this joker was using it to appear to jump off a thirty-story building.
"Of Kellen design," the woman said, as if reading my thoughts. Could she read my thoughts?
Ship put the profile together. The woman next to me was a Kellen. I had never met one before. They did not travel from their home world. Well, that was silly to think. She was here now.
pixy? A fairy? A witch? I wasn't sure of all the nuances. Tamara was up on all those things. Not young. Old then?
"I'm called Old Kelly," the woman said. "I prefer pixy though many think of me as a witch."

You can read my thoughts," I said matter-of-factly. No reason to get angry. Her thought-reading was as natural to her as sniffing was to me. Her smell was unique. I could not keep from noticing.
Yes, but it does not offend you," Old Kelly said in my mind.

This is better," I said.

You don't mind me in here, do you?"""

"I know where you are," I said. "I hope you'll open to me. I'm not telepathic, but I can travel your neuro-pathways to some extent."
The information exchange was quick.

Old Kelly was here to find out where the personal teleportation devices came from. None were missing on Kellen.

I knew and she knew I knew this wasn't the whole story, but it was enough for now.

The gong sounded at the dining room entrance. We began moving toward the door.

Credit where credit is due:
Old Kelly: Day 19
Personal Teleporting: Day 14
These are ideas from Mur Lafferty's News From Poughkeepsie