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Tachyon

Constructive Interference; Or, On the Disposition of Orthogonal Eigenvector Bases

“Constructive Interference; Or, On the Disposition of Orthogonal Eigenvector Bases”

Tandaris Admiran

-------------------------------------------------------------

 

The voices woke Tandaris—no, not those voices. Actual voices. He grunted and rolled over, then sat up and remembered where he was. His quarters were still in disarray—the repair crews had more important concerns at the moment—so he and the Guardian had retired to her quarters. A quick glance at the chronometer told Tandaris that it was far too early to be worrying about getting out of bed, especially considering how late they had fallen asleep. . . .

 

Yet the Guardian wasn't here. And there were voices coming from the other room. Despite knowing better, Tandaris silently slipped from bed and crossed the room to the open doorway. The Guardian sounded flustered.

 

“I just don't think—”

 

“What you think is irrelevant at this point. You said, that in your professional judgement, he continues to act erratically. Do you deny making this report?” The voice belonged to a stern Trill on the other end of a subspace transmission. Tandaris didn't recognize him, but his job was obvious.

 

“No, I don't, but now it—”

 

Her superior was not interested in idle conversation, or any conversation for that matter. He cut her off again, saying, “Then that's all we need. We cannot stand by and watch Tandaris inflict further damage to the symbiont.”

 

“You don't mean—no. That's not supposed to happen, ever. We don't do that.”

 

“Drastic times. . . . The host has been compromised, far beyond what any symbiont should ever experience. True, we have never made this decision when the host was so physically stable, but your own testimony indicates the same is not true of his mental state. And we cannot risk contaminating the symbiont more than it is already—”

 

Now the Guardian's voice passed from flustered to desperate, acquiring a note of pleading. “That's the problem! The symbiont is already contaminated—the symbiont is the only thing contaminated! Tandaris is innocent, he's—”

 

“—more than it is already afflicted,” the Guardian's superior continued, as if she hadn't spoken at all. “A decade or three in the pools should help it recover from this trauma. You will see to that, I trust.” Then he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, adding, “Unless you've grown too attached to this Trill? You are aware of how . . . unwise . . . a line you're skirting, are you not?”

 

The Guardian's back stiffened.. “No, sir. I know my duty.”

 

“Good. The official order will arrive within the day. For now, you are not to inform Tandaris Admiran of our decision. He will learn his fate soon enough. Verrin out.” The screen went blank, now holding only the hazy reflection of the Guardian. Tandaris could see that tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she sniffled and brought a hand up to her mouth as she broke into short sobs.

 

Tandaris stepped out from concealment. Standing in the doorway, he said, “So this is the part where you have to betray me, hmm?”

 

The Guardian started and whirled around, staring at him with bleary, reddened eyes. “W-w-what?”

 

“That was the call from the Symbiosis Commission telling you to cut me loose, am I right? Responding to your reports that I'm too dangerous to remain offworld? Telling you that they agree, and that they are ordering you to escort me back to Trill?” Tandaris could feel twin emotions building in him, each one stoking the other. Sadness, a deep, penetrating sense of loss. And anger. He could feel something lurking in the latter, an undercurrent of dark, pent-up frustration. He knew the source of that feeling, but he wasn't enough in control to suppress it.

 

“It's . . . it's not like that, Tandaris, you know it isn't. I don't have any influence. I'm just a lackey. I had to evaluate you—and you . . . you weren't well, not then. Maybe now, but not then.” She frowned and peered at him beseechingly. “What was I supposed to do? I'm not cut out for this.”

 

Tandaris stalked forward. “So this was a ruse? Talking to me wasn't working, so you slept with me instead?! Crawled into my bed, like some Orion slut, just to placate me and keep me content so you will have no trouble getting what you want?”

 

“What? N-n-no!” the Guardian stammered, taken aback by the ferocity of Tandaris' accusation. “What do you mean? A ruse? I don't—I never wanted to deceive you.”

 

“So going behind my back to conspire with your superiors to execute me is . . . what? An early birthday present?” He was now directly in front of her, towering over her and shaking with rage. There was a part of him, that new part that still burned so brightly, that regarded her as vermin. This metallic coffin reeked of vermin, and now Tandaris was ready to reduce the vermin count by one.

 

The Guardian closed her eyes and shook her head. “I didn't count on this.”

 

“On what?”

 

“On loving you.” The words tumbled out like so much overflow from a tipped drinking glass, a spilt, unintentional declaration.

 

It had been a long time since Tandaris had heard those words in that tone. And the effect they had was great. The sense of emptiness that fuelled his sadness subsided. The frustration dissipated. “Do you really mean that?” And all the scepticism, the acidic pessimism that came so naturally to his most recently acquired memories, welled up inside him. Of course she didn't mean it. She couldn't mean it. This was sophistry.

 

For a moment, her tears forgotten, the Guardian said, “Yes, I do. I didn't realize it until . . . well, everything that's happened in the past few days has helped me put things in perspective. Maybe it's just that helpless vulnerability you've got right now,” she smirked, “but you've helped to show me what I've missed by staying in a cave. You've showed me wonders, and horrors, and,” she frowned, not sure how to conclude, “and in return I betray you.” Her lip quivered again, and the moment of clarity dissolved under another barrage of tears.

 

Tandaris sighed. He was bringing his temper under control, and the calm part of him recognized her fear, as well as her honesty. Whether or not she loved him, she believed she had done the wrong thing.

 

“No, you were right the first time. You're just doing your job. It's not your fault that the Symbiosis Commission is after my head. They've become much more hard line and protective of the symbionts. Every year brings a clamour for more symbionts than they can provide, and the rumours persist that more people are compatible for Joining than the ten per cent figure cited in the reports. They're losing grip, and they'll do everything they can to keep the symbionts under their control.”

 

“That's all very interesting, Tandaris, but what good does that knowledge do you?”

 

“Now there you've got me.” He gave her a wan smile and sat down on the couch opposite her, his body language advertising defeat. “When those orders come through . . . it's over. I have to go home.”

 

There was a pause, and then the Guardian said, “Not necessarily. They can't force you home. You could stay.”

 

Tandaris' eyes flashed at her. “You know I can't. It'd mean exile. I'd—Admiran--would be a fugitive, denied any new hosts, condemned to die when this one does . . . it would be irresponsible of me.”

 

The Guardian almost flew across the room as she threw herself at him, putting on hand on his knee and the other against the back of the couch to steady herself. “It would mean life. Not confinement, separation, death. I know you—you, Tandaris Admiran, the joined Trill, value that above all else.” She clambered onto the couch and pressed herself next to him, then added, “Besides. You know they're wrong about you—I was wrong. This isn't a problem with the host. It's a trauma that both host and symbiont experienced, something that both will have to work through naturally, probably forever. Even if you were to go back, you wouldn't gain anything. Admiran wouldn't gain anything.”

 

“And what about you?” Tandaris asked.

 

“What about me? This isn't about me.”

 

“It is now,” he said. “Would you go back to Trill, knowing your superiors won't be happy with you—especially not once they discover you've become intimately involved with a joined Trill. Will you go into exile with me? You may claim to have suddenly found joy in this life of mine, but once the adrenaline rush dies down, will you still be satisfied?”

 

The Guardian took his hand in hers, and then she leaned forward, placing her lips near his ear. And she whispered to him the words that would change everything, words more potent than a declaration of love—no, were a declaration of love. It was the one thing she wasn't supposed to give anyone, something she had abandoned upon entering the caves to tend to the pools and bask in the wisdom of the many-lived. She gave Tandaris something that wasn't properly hers to give, but in so doing, reclaimed it.

 

Into his ear, the Guardian whispered her name. She said it without any sense of regret and no small amount of pleasure, feeling as she did so her heart lighten. Tandaris Admiran was not perfect. In fact, some people would say he was very much broken—some people did say that, but they were far away, back on Trill, and no longer held sway over her. Tandaris had seen to that. Somewhere along the way, between her first glimpse at him as he lay in a coma and his rescue of her from those terrifying creatures, Tandaris had shown her how not to be afraid of choosing to live. She had spent so much time with the symbionts in their pools that she had never understood why they left those pools to go out into the galaxy in vessels so frail as humanoid hosts were.

 

This was why. This was real. She owed it to Tandaris to help him, and she wanted to make it better somehow, fix everything. This was not in her power, but that didn't stop her from wishing. And it wouldn't stop her from trying. But now she wouldn't be trying to fix Tandaris because it was her assignment, and she wouldn't see him as a subject or a project. She was fixing him because she wanted to, because she loved him. . .

 

Tandaris smiled and gently guided her lips from his ear to his mouth. “Pleased to meet you, Kersia Valos.” And he kissed her, pulled her close, held her tight.

 

. . . she was fixing him because she loved him.

 

Tandaris held her and hoped that he loved her too.

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