Authors: M.D. Hall
During the next four days, there was no response from either his father or his brothers. He was surprised, and more than a little disappointed. So it was, that when Meteor’s shuttle landed on Te’ath, he was none the wiser about his mother.
Disembarking, he found Jaron, Ciarra and Genir waiting for him, but of his father, or brothers there was no sign. All four embraced, and following an awkward silence, Jaron spoke. ‘You’re coming home with us.’ Ciarra smiled and gripped Gorn’s hand.
‘But I thought I would…’ The young man’s protestations were cut short by Jaron with a wave of his hand, he would brook no opposition. ‘We’ve discussed it. Our home is your home, for as long as you need it.’
The short journey was silent, but as they reached the villa Gorn looked at Jaron who answered his unspoken question. ‘You need time to prepare yourself before we talk about your mother.’
‘I've had four days to prepare myself. Whatever happened can't be any worse than the scenarios I've gone through over and over, in my head.’
‘I’ll tell you when we’re back home, agreed?’ He was no longer Jaron, old friend, he had become Jaron, Commander at Gallsor.
‘Fine,’ Gorn grudgingly acceded.
Throughout the journey, Genir kept his own counsel. Knowing there was nothing he could say to help his friend, he would remain quietly in the background until needed.
In fifteen minutes they were sitting in the room where, six years before, Jaron had spoken of the Gallsor incident. They were even sitting on the same chairs, save for the empty place once occupied by Cyrar.
Jaron looked at his wife, who nodded. He then took a deep breath. ‘Your mother killed herself. We don’t know why, nothing she said or did, when we saw her three days earlier, gave us any hint.’
The one scenario Gorn had not considered seriously was suicide, he discounted it because it was unthinkable. He shook his head,
He’s wrong..
.Jaron interrupted his thoughts. ‘The reflections ceremony has been held back until tomorrow so you could attend,’ this last statement suggested the delay was not a given. ‘We hadn't heard from your father, so I took it on myself to contact the office of formal closure. I told them a ship of the line had diverted course, to ensure you would be here by today. I didn’t think they would want to cause problems, once they knew the Navy had taken such steps to intercede.’
‘It was only my commander,’ Gorn replied.
‘Perhaps,’ added Jaron, with the ghost of a smile, ‘I might have let them think the order came from much higher up. But I needn’t have said anything,’ he continued. ‘The official told me there’s a personal message for you from Cyrar, which means the procedure can't be completed in your absence. It was their office that contacted your ship. I got the distinct impression they would have waited indefinitely for your return.’
Gorn sat back in his chair and looking down at the floor, rubbed his forehead.
She was fine when I left her, but one person has the answer,
he thought.
After a few moments, the stricken young man’s reverie was broken by Ciarra. ‘You need to rest as the reflections ceremony is this evening.’
Lifting his head to see the face of his mother’s closest friend, he asked. ‘There’s nothing else?’
Jaron leaned forward, and put his hand on Gorn's shoulder. ‘We will get to the bottom of this, I promise you.’
‘I'm grateful to you both, but I think I know where the answers lie,’ Jaron and Ciarra looked bemusedly at Gorn as he stood. ‘I haven't heard from my father,’ and with that said, he smiled sadly at his friends, before moving off in the direction of his room.
Jaron motioned to Genir that he wanted to be alone with Ciarra. They sat for a few moments in silence, watching him wander into the garden, before the man who was once more Jaron the friend, Jaron the father, Jaron the husband said. ‘I'm not sure we've done the right thing by leaving him unprepared.’
Ciarra shook her head. ‘I don’t think Gorn will need anyone, he’s a lot stronger than you think. I agree, it isn’t right that he goes into this unprepared, but it isn't our place to tell him. We’ll be there for him when he learns the truth.’
‘But will he trust us then?’
Ciarra had no answer to give her husband as they were, once again, reclaimed by silence, each feeling powerless to influence what was about to happen.
The Reflections Ceremony
Ω
The Zone of Reflection took up an area one kilometre in diameter and each attendee was required to make his, or her way to the Remembrance Chamber, alone. Each of the many paths led to the centre like the spokes of a wheel, none meeting or intersecting.
As Gorn stepped on to his path, he found himself looking along a serene avenue formed by a combination of natural fauna and holo emitters. The only sounds were a soft breeze whispering through the trees, and water gently breaking over stones hidden within, or beyond the trees. Of his friends there was no sign.
The purpose of this walk was to cleanse and prepare the mind. Having already endured four days of seclusion, he felt as prepared as he would ever be.
At the end of his journey, he entered the marble clad portico that opened on to the Chamber. Almost simultaneously, his friends stepped into the chamber and made their way to him. Glancing around the room, he could see his father and brothers standing together, some way off. Feeling nervous, he glanced at Jaron for support, before setting off on the short walk towards his family. Short, the walk might have been, but it seemed to take forever to cross the marble floor to the answers he needed. His approach was noticed. The three men who represented all that remained of his immediate family, turned to him as one. His oldest brother Serkar nodded an acknowledgement, he looked no different to how Gorn remembered him from their last meeting three years ago, but for eyes containing undisguised pain.
His father and other brother Naraak, however, regarded him with baleful eyes glaring out from faces that contained no grief. He felt as though he had been struck, the empty space from Meteor reopening, deep inside. As his mind began to mirror his stomach, he simply stood there, unable to fathom what had happened. All reasoning having fled, a single question struggled to the surface, demanding to be heard. Looking at Serkar he spoke aloud the insistent question. ‘Why?’
The pain in his older brother’s face was now combined with uncertainty. ‘I…’
Naraak turned his head to Serkar with a look that dared him to speak further. In response, the eldest brother lost his look of vulnerability, and for the briefest of moments assumed a mantle of defiance, before relapsing.
They were deadlocked, but Gorn became aware of another presence appearing at his side. He turned, instinctively, as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and found himself looking into the strong, resolute face of his old zagball coach. Zaran said nothing, as he guided his charge away from the trio, towards an arch where no one was standing. Gorn leaned against one of the pillars. ‘Take it easy,’ counselled his coach, ‘just breathe slowly, and evenly.’
Gorn looked at Zaran, then to his family and asked, simply. ‘What have I done?’
‘You exist, and that’s enough,’ the older man paused before adding. ‘We need to talk, and this is neither the time, nor the place. I’d like you to meet me tomorrow. There’s a cafe at the northern end of the Shimmering Park, be there at noon.’ With that, he strode out of the chamber, pausing briefly to speak to Jaron and Ciarra, before giving Bakir a purposeful look that simply created more confusion in the young man’s mind. As if in answer to his plight, Genir began to move towards his friend before a restraining hand was placed on his arm, by his father; Gorn had to come through this alone.
As his mind began to clear, he sensed he was on the verge of discovering something momentous, what that
something
was, he had no idea, but he was certain of one thing, there was knowledge shared by his coach and father, of which he was ignorant. When he looked over to Bakir, for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw regret etched upon his face. In that instant, he looked much older than his years, but as quickly as it appeared, the look was gone, as was the recent anger, both subsumed by the old demeanour of indifference, which became hidden from view as he turned his back on his youngest son.
Gorn tore his eyes from the little group, and was surprised to see how many other people were filling the hall. Because of the numbers, there were many he could not see, and of those who were unhidden, most were unknown to him. There was little point in walking through the crowd when there was no way he could introduce himself to all of them, it was easier to remain apart. His eyes swept the huge room, and he wondered how his mother had managed to touch so many lives. Some of the strangers were taking turns looking first at him, then his family; they were beginning to notice the distance, not just physical, between them. It was time for him to leave. He would return later, and conduct his own private remembrance ceremony.
As he approached his friends, Ciarra’s hug gave him the simple reassurance he needed. They parted and he turned to Jaron who, without speaking, took hold of his arm and smiled. Gorn stood back from them both, and turned to Genir who, without smiling, said. ‘I’ll see you back home,’ Gorn wondered if that reference to
home
was calculated to make him feel better, he thought not, Genir was too genuine for that. ‘If you need me when you come back here, let me know,’ his friend added.
Trust you to figure out that I’m coming back,
Gorn thought
. ‘
I’ll manage, but thanks.’ Genir simply nodded and then, without even a glance in the direction of his father and brothers, Gorn left.
Ω
Hours later, when he was certain he would not be disturbed, Gorn returned to the Remembrance Chamber. During his long solitary walk, he expected his head would be filled with tumbling thoughts, but to his surprise and relief, it remained relatively empty.
As he entered the chamber, the caretakers kept their distance, reflecting their instinctive understanding born of many years experience. He spent the rest of the night sitting in the only chair in the huge room, looking at the holo-images of his mother playing over and over.
Walking from the hall, he thought about the day that was beginning to break, and tried to imagine what he could expect. Finding no answer, he turned his mind to what had happened in the space of just a few days. He had gone from a life mapped out before him, both straightforward and uncomplicated, to the loss of a mother he loved, but never took the time to know, and the stark realisation that in losing her, he lost the only family he had. His thoughts were drawn backwards in time to another incident, one that, with the benefit of hindsight, hinted at what had happened just hours before.
He was twelve, Naraak’s squadron had just returned from a minor engagement, and the older brother decided to visit the family home. Gorn, even at twelve, was usually restrained and not given to outbursts, but this was one of his brothers returning from battle, normal rules did not apply. Running past his mother, he burst into the library and the question he had been bottling up, since the news of his brother’s visit, spilled out. ‘Naraak, your ship was on the front line, what was it like?’
‘It’s none of your concern,’ his brother replied coldly. He was about to say more when their mother walked in and looked at her elder son without saying a word. Naraak’s overt aggression immediately subsided, to be replaced by a sulk. There was no more conversation, and in less than an hour the visitor had left, with no words of farewell to the youngster, indeed no words at all. Gorn remembered going into his father’s study, normally a place to be avoided, unless invited. Bakir was standing at the bay window looking out in the direction his departed son would have taken. ‘Father, Naraak was odd, he wouldn’t talk to me. Is something wrong?’
He could remember his father’s face as though it was yesterday. It was a mirror image of Naraak’s, just before the sulk prompted by the arrival of their mother. The recollection drew him back to the present and made him shudder, just as it did all those years ago. The nine years dissolved, plunging him back into his father’s study. ‘Your brother has endured a difficult time in action, you shouldn’t have pressed him. Now leave me.’
The twelve-year-old Gorn followed the line of his father’s eyes as he spoke, they were focussed on a point beyond him, and he turned to see where they rested. Standing in the archway was his mother who returned her husband’s look of thinly veiled contempt with what the older Gorn knew to be blank indifference. She held out her hand and Gorn remembered taking it, and feeling all his confusion ebb away as the warmth of her touch, and the soft strength of her eyes, reassured him everything would be all right.
The older Gorn remembered the confusion returning to his younger self, days later. His brother had returned from action before, and such a thing had never happened. He felt there was more to this, but whom could he ask? There would be no explanation from his father. As for his mother, he sensed that it would be wrong to ask her, that same sense told him it would cause her pain.
Asking Genir's parents was out of the question, as it would embarrass his mother, and it was hardly the kind of thing he could raise with Genir who, despite being the closest thing to a true
brother
he had, would simply not understand. Girls, or getting into scrapes, he could comprehend, but not this. The older Gorn knew this did his friend an injustice.
Younger Gorn made up his mind, the only other adult he could trust was his zagball coach, Zaran.
The following day when he was back in school, he waited until a free period and went down to the sports complex, where he knew he would find the coach. Sure enough, he was testing some of the zagball anti-grav packs. Zaran remained intent on the job in hand, his eyes not straying to the visitor, as he asked. ‘Problem?’
Even now, Gorn had no idea how his coach knew it was him. ‘Do you have brothers?’