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Updated: May 11, 2025
A human would have feared for his life, but Traiti valued that less than honor. Kranath was at the top of the hill now, standing where no Traiti in history had ever stood. In any other place, that would have been cause for rejoicing. Not here. He had been brought here by force instead of coming voluntarily, and he could only pray to all the gods that St'nar would think him dead in honor. Gods!
No helmet blocked his view, and if he wanted to, he could perceive the entirety of what surrounded him. He reveled in it, swooping from system to system, observing for himself what Kranath and the others had told him.
Kranath was sleeping; Godhome sent him dreams, first of the inevitable results if the inter-clan warfare continued, then before the nightmare brought Kranath awake screaming of what would happen if he joined with the computer.
Nobody went to Godhome voluntarily, and Kranath cursed at himself for allowing speculation about the crash to distract his attention from his course. He'd come too far south! He began to veer east, trying to put some distance between himself and the ominous hill before the madness of the place seized him.
Kranath suppressed his curiosity about just what gods he was supposed to call if "those who went before" were out of reach. Godhome had already refused to go into that. "Only . . . why wait so long?" "Some situations must be allowed to ripen, or their lessons will not sink in. Had I intervened earlier, such fighting would break out again, worse.
It began working, opening unused mental pathways to free parts of the Traiti's mind that evolution would not normally bring into play for several tens of millennia. Kranath was being brought to a greater maturity than any organic intelligence currently inhabiting the Milky Way Galaxy, receiving minor psionic abilities to prepare him for further changes.
That put a completely different light on things. Despite the way he'd been brought here and he was sure now that even his crash had been arranged Kranath bowed his head briefly, claws touching his forehead, to accept the hospitality he was offered. Why? To impress Hovan as it had? Probably.
"If you are ready, Brother, we should begin." Brother, not ruhar. Tarlac smiled at that human touch. "Yeah. Let's not waste time." Then he remembered. "Hey, what about Jim? The Empire can't afford to lose two Rangers at once now less than ever." "No," Kranath agreed. "He is still in critical condition, but Ranger Medart will recover fully." "Thank God!" Tarlac exclaimed reflexively.
Kranath did, so the others must . . . "They couldn't tell you, because the time wasn't right. I'm not sure it is now, either, but that's not what has me worried." Tarlac paused. "Kranath was shocked pretty badly when he found out, Hovan, and so was I, even though he protected me from the worst of it. That's why I'm scared.
The realization of something so basic it had never occurred to him before, as he walked in the warmth of Homeworld's sun, seemed fitting to him. He'd been Kranath, he'd been Godhome; now he was Steve Tarlac again. Only Steve Tarlac, he thought with a silent laugh, but he'd found at least part of the answer he needed to bring peace if he survived.
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