:: Unknown ::
Huur Sjet finally stepped into the room. “Here,
is where I lost her,” the thought echoed through the old man’s
soul. Huur focused his eyes and for the first time really saw the
room where Karan had spent so much time these last few years.
There wasn’t much left. The lab had been stripped of it’s
one of a kind equipment. It’s specialized and crucial nature
was desperately needed elsewhere. A few empty tables, scattered
boxes, bare input and power sockets appeared at haphazard places
on the walls and floor.
“Strange,” The Sjet-SA whispered. For just a second he
thought he smelled the Jshawna bloom’s fragrance. Karan had
for years kept a Jshawna bloom in her hair. But would only smile
if asked about it.
The memory was almost too much. The Sjet-Sa seemed to shudder to
Those Who Wait who were close enough to see it. But he
immediately straightened and reached for the door to Karan’s
office.
No one had been there since Karan had last left. Kiith Soban’s
Sa had made it plain that no one except Huur Sjet would be
allowed admittance. And he had made it all to clear that if any
one told Huur about the orders he would kill them personally. No
one doubted it. It was after all, a matter of blood, honor, and
grief. All of the Sa’s agreed. Only her father should gather
whatever personal effects Karan left behind.
Huur knew Karan had already given away almost everything she
owned in the months before,….Before her transformation. But
in the final weeks she lived in her office. Surely there was
something of her’s still here to pack away. Some small part
of his little girl had to be here…He had to find something.
“Please Sajuuk,” his silent prayer was all to plain to
Those Who Wait, ”don’t let this end like this!”
Opening the door Huur stepped into the final hours of his
daughters life. Karan’s office was large, but every space
was somehow filled by Karan. The cases of data tablets on one
side filled with her research, the 4 chairs piled with who knows
what… The sofa still had a hospital blanket thrown back,
rumpled and creased from her nights sleeping there. Not even one
piece of clothing though. Karan had taken to only wearing those
Sajuuk-damned plastic hospital gowns during that last week. Not
even the Jshawna bloom could rest on a head shaved bare. Her
wastebasket by the desk was filled with the damned hospital
gowns.
Karan’s desk seemed, strange some how. It was covered with
documents like always, but the printout’s looked funny. And
her terminal was, pushed aside!
Huur closed the door behind him and moved to the desk. Looking at
the printouts closer up he suddenly realized, everything on Karan’s
desk was written by hand!
As far as he knew Karan hadn’t written anything by hand
since her tenth year finals. Which was the last year Kharaki
children practiced such skills before moving on to totally
computer based learning. She had despised writing! And her grades
in it were only passable because she was the daughter of the Sa.
This was stranger then the last 3 months had prepared him for.
There were two stacks of the printouts, no letters, Huur
corrected himself. One was of slightly yellowed paper. The other
appeared to be standard white printout sheets. Yellowed? Didn’t
paper have to age a lot to take on a yellowed appearance? Who’d
age a print out sheet anyway? Much less have only hand writing on
them?!?
For the first time in months Huur’s mind was not swallowed
in the grief of his daughters passing. His anger and grief while
not giving way, allowed curiosity to peer through Karan’s
loss.
He reached for the top page of the aged letters. The writing was
elegantly beautiful, but damaged in places. As if they had been
exposed to one of the rare southern rains. The writing was hard
to make out. It was in an elaborate style, but seemed to be in
the modern form.
Huur allowed himself to be distracted by the letter. Not even
realizing it was an attempt to put off the inevitable.
Settling in to the desks chair he began to read. With difficulty
at first, after all he’d only seen examples of such
elaborately written text in terminal screens during his history
studies.
His eyes narrowed, then widened as he realized what he was
reading was a tribute of sorts to his daughter. Written just 4
years ago! Not some ancient lab report as he first thought.
Karan would have been 22 when it was written. Huur tried but
could hardly remember exactly what Karan was doing then. He had
been so busy with all the debates and preparations for the
Journey. It’s an almost impossible task to be SA and father.
One can only do so much. But what Huur had just read reminded him
that not only fathers could love their daughters.
Huur reached for the next page but almost immediately became
confused. This one was much different. Written 3 weeks after the
first it had a sense of despair and panic to it. The very writing
while still elegant was slightly off center.
Looking over at the other stack he realized the first page was a
reply by Karan to her admirer. Karen was obviously flattered, but
she stated in no uncertain terms that she was not going to become
involved. Huur’s eyes suddenly narrowed. The page in his
other hand was suddenly crumpled without his being aware.
He began reading in earnest, first from one stack then the other.
His grief now suddenly replaced. But the anger was still there.
And it was growing……
Outside Karan’s office the lab was slowly
being filled by Those Who Wait.
