THAT FALL

The patient escapee, Sam Reynolds, actually General Onnage Dentri, stormed into the bar towards his First Commander, Yonkins Katro, demanding without flourish: “Report.” He slid into the booth with some effort, putting his back to the door and trying to wedge his significant frame into a space designed for slighter beings.

Katro peered at his General with his one unbandaged eye. Without hesitation, but with some amusement at the large being’s struggle into the seat, he stated: “The Ryad pulse interrupted our stasis wave. From the few agents we collected, it appears they get stuck in their personas. Where our wave kept them in contact with us, and safe, the pulse cut them off. Simple process, really. They get caught in a loop.”

“Navin was not wearing his ring. He is unaffected.”

“We know, sir. He reported your attempts at contact this afternoon. And your escape.”

“You could not find seating in one of those chairs, Katro?”

Katro gulped. “Without interfering with humans, no sir.“

Dentri shifted in the red faux-leather bench as the table pushed against his abdomen. He tried to spread his arms across the top of the back of his seat, but his arms were too thick and kept sliding down. He folded his hands on the table, felt the sticky surface, and grunted. He said, “Navin insists we continue with the original strategy although he has not managed to activate the portal. He, and the Council, want to continue with Renya’s plan. But Renya thinks she is this human, Angie. Except for occasional bursts, I have been unable to communicate with her.”

Katro closed his eyes against Dentri’s expression. Dentri was grinding his jaw the way he did just before he had an explosive episode, and Katro wanted to avoid that. As Dentri’s closest confidant, Katro could confidently chide and lightly mock the General with only an occasional reprimand. Even a severe punishment, like when Katro had teased the General for avoiding a kitten, was only a minute or two of being engulfed in flames. And the General always healed him instantly. No long-term harm. However, with the impending war, Katro’s failed mission, and, especially, Renya’s condition, this was not the time to rib the General about the uncomfortable seating arrangement. Katro wished he had a wife he loved as much as Dentri loved Renya. He continued to hold his tongue and guard his thoughts against the General’s awareness as he said, “Sir, we have some good news. The medicos have been able to reverse the damage. The agents want to wake up, so they are slowly recuperating. Full recovery will takes seventy-two hours.”

“We do not have seventy-two hours, Katro.” He pulled several napkins from the holder and lined the table with a makeshift tablecloth. Replacing his arms onto the surface, he said, “If it were up to me, I would let the Ryads and Andolonians torch this planet.”

“I know, sir,” Katro acknowledged, trying not to look away from Dentri’s intimidating glare. Averting his eyes from the General’s stare would be much worse than a jibe about his big body oozing out of the booth.

“We need her now. Her. Not some pretense yoga professor or whatever she designed.”

Katro said, “Yes, sir. We understand that.” He regarded what appeared to be a thin computer tablet in his large hands. “The instructions are simple. As long as we separate the agent from the persona and provide nutrients, the agent’s willingness to awaken is enough to snap ’em out of it. The medicos are not sure why Queen Renya has not awoken on her own.” He regretted the subtle insult of Renya’s abilities as soon as it spilled from his lips.

Dentri ignored the comment and asked, “Where’s Castania?”

That the General permitted Castania to accompany them to recover Renya surprised Katro. Although Castania was emotionally insistent on rescuing her mistress, croaking curses in several languages, Katro considered it a futile appeal. Her unusual appearance made any cloak-and-dagger attempts futile. Yet, the General had acquiesced. He said, “Sir. We thought it would be prudent to keep her out of sight. So, she’s in the car with the cat.”

Dentri frowned. He mumbled, “Damn cat.”

A waitress, wearing shorts and a tank top, sporting a blond ponytail, and burdened with an obvious tooth-cap, appeared table side and asked Dentri, “Anything for you, buddy?” Her smile highlighted her missing tooth.

Dentri shook his head not meeting her inquiring gaze.

“You?” she asked Katro.

“I’ll have another beer.”

“We do not have time,” Dentri ordered.

Katro said, “I guess just the check.” The waitress wobbled on her platform heels toward the bar. Katro placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and returned his attention to the General who was emitting a low growl. Katro worried his failed mission still angered Dentri, so he offered, “Sir. We did not know about the pulse. If I had, I would have given my life–”

“I am not angry, Commander. So, get those thoughts out of your thick head. No engulfing you in flames today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I do not mind you having a beer. I wanted one, myself. Always liked earth’s ales. But we will move on Longwood sooner than planned. My son has just entered this hedonistic establishment with that doctor and that nurse.”