Lenosh of Arktelek

"Step forward, Lenosh  of the clan Samosh, son of Humosh," Jored the Caller, wearing black robes and reading from a parchment scroll, stood before the ancient, imposing, iron gates of the capitol compound of Timshee. The opening of the gates always drew a crowd whether one had been subpoenaed or not. It was one of many Telekian traditions. Each was as old as the sky.

Lenosh held his head high and ascended the wide steps of the staircase to the gates. It had required several days of hard travel by fleeting train to be here. The interruption to his work on a new medical device would delay the project and the summons had given no details behind its issuance, but one didn't ignore papers sent to them by the Giatrean.

Were it not for the bad business with the malfunctioning Treak, he would have had no anxiety about the summons. It had been a bad business indeed, yet he had done all he could to right it. He had repeated this to himself over and over to the chunking of the train as it sped along its track, toward Timshee. 

Lenosh set his feet on the mark at the top of the staircase and breathed his resignation. His life was now in the hands of the Giatrean. Jored bowed to Lenosh. Lenosh returned the customary greeting.

Jerod handed Lenosh a passkey and motioned for him to step through the great gates. Lenosh gritted his teeth and stepped across the verge.

A familiar mechanical beep sounded. Despite his anxiety, he let the pleasure of a device well-built lighten his burden. The Detector, his detector, was used by the Giatrean’s guard to protect Timshee from would-be attackers. If he were to die for his failure, at least he would have this satisfaction.

 "Lenosh." A woman, a natural beauty, stepped from behind the monitoring booth. Her lithe limbs moved with a grace he would not have believed possible were he not seeing it with his own eyes. Dark hair ran over her red, silk-robed shoulders. Her skin was the light brown of the elite. Lenosh glanced at his darker hands, hands of the engineer class.

"I am Pentot, of the clan Vemlot, daughter of Rutpenot." She bowed.

"Rutpenot?" During his journey through academia, he had practically worshipped the inventor. "It is an honor beyond words to stand in your presence."

"Yet you do not return my bow."

Lenosh bent in half, an exaggeration of a bow. "Forgive me, my lady, I was overexcited by the mention of such a great inventor."

"You are forgiven." The genuine tilt of her head as she smiled sent tingles from his stomach to his thighs. The darkness of his dread was banished by the light of this exchange.

"Follow me, please."

He followed as a young lover tripping after his beloved.  The contents of the hallways floated past without breaching the tunnel of his vision.

When Pentot stopped walking, Lenosh did also. He could not tear his gaze from her."

"I present Lenosh, of the clan Samosh, son of Humosh," Pentot said.

"I trust your journey here was accommodating." The Giatrean's voice was much softer than he'd imagined.

With much effort, he turned his gaze upon the ruler. She wore a stiff, political smile. Her head seemed balanced atop the layered, golden silk robes which concealed all but the skin of her face. Even her hair could not be seen, as her hoods were drawn up and rested on her forehead just above her dark eyebrows.

"It was as you say."

Pentot cleared her throat.

Lenosh, in horror, realized he'd done it again. He fell to his knees and flung himself forward.

"A simple bow would suffice, inventor. You need not fear retribution for inadequacies in genuflection."

"Thank you, your highness." Lenosh stood and straightened his jacket.

"I have been reviewing your file at length. Speak to me about the malfunction of the Treak."

He took a deep breath and recounted everything he'd reported in his papers.

"Yes, all that is here, almost word for word. You are consistent, but are you honest?"

"Your majesty?"

"I am an educated Telekian.  I understand that such a malfunction is due to faulty wiring. What you have neglected to do, is point a finger at who is responsible. I have reviewed the plans as you originally submitted them. The wiring diagram is not faulty. Who failed to assemble it correctly?"

"As project manager, it was my responsibility. I should have double checked the work."

The Giatrean rose from her chair and moved toward him. In the fullness of her robes, she appeared to float.

"Your insistence on taking the blame is both admirable and foolish. Those who suffered need to see their leaders acting, and the entire realm needs talented inventors like you. Won't you spare yourself the punishment and us the loss?"

"I will submit to whatever punishment my government deems necessary."

The Giatrean's jaw tightened. "Many of the injured requested death for the lifelong burdens, but it is not in our law, and your letters have moved most to mercy. You shall serve ten years under the hand of Ubesh."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Pentot shall take you to your cell and provide you with whatever resources you need to put your affairs in order. Your employer, of course, is already aware of the sentence."

Lenosh bowed. The burden of guilt seemed lighter despite the length of his sentence. Ubesh was said to be hard but not cruel. The work would be bearable. Perhaps he would even see Pentot from time to time.