The Elders' Sequence

Aluzamoakans tend to have an affinity for awareness. This awareness encompasses and extends beyond the physical. Vemloska, which I translate as “everywhere mind”, involves practices that strengthen our understanding of the universe, building on our seemingly innate sensitivity to what I once thought unreal: subtle energies. These practices permeate every rank of Aluzamoakan society, although some individuals choose not to train in vemloska at all. 

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My spouse was not one of the latter. He was an avid practitioner well before I met him. His position almost required this of him, although he would deny that he trained in vemloska to eventually become Leader. He would say that he trained in its practices to make sense of his world—a world he was sensitive to, a world that was not originally mine, a world that continued to expand the day we signed a new contract with the United Galactic Entities. 

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Zaraith exhibited his affinity for vemloska in the moments before we met with the UGE representatives. He stood at a window overlooking a rolling cityscape, facing the star of Xenad and its more distant constellations. I knew the names of some of these stars, if their light reached Aluzamoak, but I didn’t know the Xenadian names. I certainly hadn’t known any of them while I had lived on Earth. Zaraith’s horns, high-curved and pointing inward, dipped forward as his neck creased at its hinge. His hands were clasped behind his back. In profile like this, he reminded me of his parent, the former Leader, who had carried himself with the unyielding confidence characteristic of his family name.

 

He blinked, flashing his violet, crystalline eyes at me. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “You’ll make me more nervous than I already am.” 

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“I’m not sure how I’m looking at you, actually.”

 

“Like you’re proud of me. Or something.”

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I chuckled, taking his six-fingered hand. “Should I not be?”

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“You won’t be after I speak,” he said, refocusing his eyes beyond the window.

 

“It will be great,” I said with gentle firmness. 

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On the several days long trip from Aluzamoak, he had recited this speech many times. Throughout these recitations, he would revise his wording, and then have to rememorize it because memorization was the standard for UGE speeches. It was a tradition, the origins of which seemed to have been forgotten. Somewhere along the line, someone had read a speech that they hadn’t personally written, and the Xenadians in particular had openly displayed their distrust. Nowadays, anyone could be fed their speech, or any speech, through a hidden com, but the tradition still held. 

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When Zaraith had wanted to revise his speech yet again, about a day before we arrived on the UGE planet, we had argued. I was worried that he wouldn’t have time to memorize the new version and he was worried that his words would sound stupid in front of the entire galaxy. For the most part, only UGE representatives would be physically present, but the speech would be broadcast to all UGE worlds, too. 

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He stepped over to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. He hovered near my left ear. “I need you to have your yzuim ready in case they start shooting at the stage.”

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I laughed. 

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He retracted, and raising his hairless eyebrows in mock seriousness said, “With both of us here, we must stay alert. The people depend on at least one of us surviving.” 

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“You know I had to give up all my weapons to security,” I muttered. 

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He released a short puff of air and winced, showing his slightly pointed teeth. “The trap is set, then,” he growled. “I’m sorry, zashta, but they have us both. The best you can do is run for one of the exits while I distract them with my incoherent ramblings.”

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I chuckled, reaching up for one of his gray horns to give it a pinch. He leaned back before I could reach it. I reached again, but he batted my hand away and said, “Mira, I have to focus.” 

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I gave up and showed my agreement to the truce by taking his hands and squeezing. “It’ll all be over soon. Ter would be proud to see you today.”

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He frowned at our hands, pressing three fingers into one of my palms. Sometimes he would do this for comfort, this sensing of my signature vibrations, which combined formed a subtle energetic pulse unique to me and had little to do with my physical heart. Zaraith was much better at this sensing technique than I was. I could dimly sense his signature vibrations, my abilities having improved from nonexistent to somewhat proficient over the past several years, since I’d come to live on Aluzamoak. It was only when our hands pressed together that I had that intuitive knowing that it was him who was near, whereas he could sense me at a distance and without seeing me.

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There was a beeping on his com and he inhaled sharply, dropping my hand. A groan surfaced from his throat. He fiddled with the top of his taut, crimson suit, which wrapped across his chest and divided into layers on one side. The suit brought out the light reds in his plum-colored skin. 

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“Hey, if nothing else, you look killer in that suit,” I said, with a grin. 

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He smiled uneasily, still pulling at the collar. “Let’s hope I don’t kill this whole thing.”