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Ahn’Ui Fehpesh was not accustomed to the uneasy feeling of flight. The sensation of falling that occurred whenever the flier dipped was unnerving, and the fact that the cabin around him gave no visual indication of the phenomenon only added to the effect. He had flown before, of course, but it had been some time since he had done so regularly. It didn’t help that the turbulence today was especially strong.
The flier, and its several occupants, were on a direct course to the capital of Tel’Ca. Fehpesh had received a message a short time ago from Aun’Ui Kir’Qath, requesting his presence at a meeting of extreme importance. The message had also instructed him to gather as many of his fellow Kexikh Kindred leaders as possible and bring them with him. He had done so, but whether they made it in time would be a close-run thing.
Fehpesh checked his datapad for what felt like the hundredth time since they had boarded the vessel. Still no further message from Kir’Qath, and she hadn’t responded to his queries. He glanced around the compartment at those he’d convinced to join him. All eyes were on him, as they had been the last time he had checked. He met their gaze, his eyes moving between each of them. One or two of the younger shapers had a quizzical look about them, but the rest ran the gamut between mild irritation and exasperation.
One of the latter leaned forward in his seat, his quills fanning slightly. He was as close to frail as a Kroot ever got, and his beak showed signs of great age, but his voice was still vigorous. “I ask you again, Ahn’Ui, for what purpose have you enlisted us?” He gestured to the others. “We all of us have critical work we should be completing. You told us that this meeting you have induced us to attend was of great significance.” His deep voice pitched as close to an open sneer as politeness would allow. “Yet, you still cannot tell us what the topic of discussion will be, nor have you divulged even the most vague consequence—”
Fehpesh opened his mouth to reply, his hands spreading in a placating manner. “Ahn’El Pakbah—”
The other Shaper’s fist came down sharply on the arm rest beside him. “Do not interrupt me, hatchling!”
Fehpesh’s sharp plumage flared, and it took every ounce of his control to not leap from his seat. He forced his quills back down and dipped his head. “My... apologies.”
Ahn’El Pakbah held still several seconds longer, then relaxed his fist. “As I was saying... as of yet you have not been forthcoming with why we should gift to you our time and effort.” His voice turned harsh. “This is the last time I will ask you, and if I am left unsatisfied I will command this flier to reverse its course and when we land you will be suitably punished for wasting our time.” He sat back, the motion slow and deliberate. He raised a hand in Fehpesh’s direction. “You may speak now.”
Fehpesh checked the screen of his datapad out of the corner of his eye, hoping for the backup he desperately needed. Nothing.
He could not let his frustration show, both with Ahn’El Pakbah, as well as with Kir’Qath for getting him into this predicament and leaving him with no support. He cleared his throat, and began speaking in a measured voice. “I thank you all once again for your patience up to this point, I know I have been light on details.”
Pakbah scoffed at this, but did not interrupt further.
Fehpesh began again. “I know this has been frustrating. Believe me, I have not enjoyed being the cause of your displeasure. But…” He paused, using his peripheral vision to check for a message, a lifeline out of this mess. Still, nothing.
“But, as I have told you—”
Pakbah stood abruptly, rage seeping into his visage. He took a step toward Fehpesh. “As you have told us several times now, Aun’Ui Kir’Qath has called a meeting with a purpose she failed to share with you,” He took another step, a hand waving contemptuously to one side, “with officials she has no authority to call upon, and,” His voice rose in volume as he took one more step, now looming over Fehpesh, “as is evidenced by the frequency and desperation of your examination of your datapad, is either incapable or unwilling to communicate further with you on this matter. I have had enough.”
With that he turned away from the target of his scorn, calling up to the pilot of the flier. “Turn us around, we will be returning immediately.” He glared at Fehpesh out of the corner of his eye. “We are not needed in the capital.”
Fehpesh sagged, defeated. He did not know what lay in store for him, but it would not be good. At the very least, he would be removed from his current station. Possibly even demoted to a ‘La. His eyes closed, and he heard Pakbah return to his seat. The sound of the small craft’s engines pitched higher as they banked to the left and began to wheel about. The motion made his stomach lurch, and he opened his eyes to try escape the building nausea.
He stiffened. There was a small, blinking light emanating from the screen of his datapad. He held his breath, barely daring to hope. He swiped a finger across the screen, opening the message he had just received. He read it once, then twice more. Disbelief churned his already restless gut, and he rose slowly, crossing the space between his seat and Pakbah’s. He held the datapad out. “You should read this.”