Chosen (HMCS Borealis Book 2) by S.J. Madill Page A

compared to the Academy."
    "That depends on the captain, Mister Tremblay."
    "Please ma'am, call me Eric."
    The Tassali nodded.   "Thank you, Eric.   And yes, it depends on the captain.   Commander Dillon tends to prioritise things:   results first, and procedures second.   In your career, you will no doubt find other officers who do things differently."
    Tremblay was leaning forward a little, she noticed.   He was beginning to relax, and there was something he wanted to ask about.   She expected she wouldn't have long to wait.
    "Yes, ma'am.   Commander Dillon does seem to be relaxed as long as the results are good."   He was watching her, perhaps waiting for a visual cue.   She offered a warm smile.
    "So, uh, ma'am, why I'm here is, I have a question about your people."
    "By all means, Eric.   But I doubt most Palani would consider me one of their own, not any more.   I am very much an exile."
    "Aye, ma'am.   I have this theory, ma'am.   Here, in this second universe, the Daltanin were attacked and wiped out seven hundred years ago.   That's the same time as your own people were attacked by the race you call the Horlan. It's connected, isn't it ma'am? That's why you're here, because of the connection between the two?"
    "As you might say, Eric, that is the 'gist' of it.   The Horlan were in both places, attacking both the Daltanin and the Palani, in different universes, at the same time."
    Tremblay leaned farther back in his seat, a hint of a satisfied grin on his face.   "I knew it. It makes sense."
    "That's not the only reason, Eric, but it's true."
    He nodded, as the grin turned into the hint of a smirk.   "I'm curious about what the connection is, ma'am.  There's more to it, isn't there?   I've been learning that there's always more."
    "There is," said the Tassali, "It's true.   And there's a personal aspect for me.   Like I said, I'm an exile from my people.   It would be unsafe for me to travel anywhere in Palani space, or anywhere that the Artahel commandoes can reach."
    "Oh, I see, ma'am."   He paused a moment.   "But with things the way they are — between Humans and Palani I mean — you wouldn't be safe on a human world either."
    "Exactly, Eric.   Right now, the only safe haven for a Palani exile is here, aboard a human warship."
    "I hope it remains safe for you here, ma'am."
    Tassali Yenaara smiled at him.   Whether he was being kind or naive, she appreciated the sentiment.   "I hope so too, Eric.   Thank you."

CHAPTER NINE

    Large white flakes tumbled down through the still air, coating the temple grounds in a fresh blanket of snow.   It muffled the sounds from the distant city, giving the day a gentle, sacred hush.   Through the fresh snow, the first blue-green shoots of grass struggled to show themselves.
    A late spring snowfall was one of Ontelis' favourite times.   The balcony of his office in the Temple of the Divines gave him a breathtaking view of the grounds.   On three sides, the carefully-sculpted landscape flowed through gardens and plazas to the cliff edges, where the ground dropped away to the crashing sea below.   Over the distant wooded hills to the north, one could normally see the tallest spires of the city, with its towers that stretched toward the clouds.   But today they were hidden by the snow, giving the Temple a feeling of seclusion.
    Spring was also the time of year he thought about getting old.   No, he decided, not getting old; being old.   He'd already lived several lifetimes, as his grandparents would have measured it.   His hands ached where they grasped the balcony railing; his hips and knees protested if he stood for too long.   He often remembered the advice of his grandfather:   never grow old .   Well, his generation had grown old, and they'd stayed old.   A long life does not compensate for a short youth.   He gave one last look at the falling snow, then turned and walked back into his office.
    At the far end of the office, his