The Outworlder

I told myself. I was summoned here. I had the right… I should be here.
I straightened my back in a vain attempt to regain my footing and clasped my hands behind me, hoping no one noticed how much they shook.
“Kar-vessár,” I greeted him, looking the man in the eye and trying to ignore the twelve other people present there with us. Watching. Judging. “I heard you wanted to speak to me.”
“Aldait Han-Tirsan,” he drawled, surveying me with a razor-sharp gaze.
I shuddered. Dahlsi rarely applied titles when addressing someone—two names were usually considered respectful enough—and they almost never used surnames. It couldn’t mean anything good. The worry about my citizenship resurfaced, but the kar-vessár’s face was unreadable.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he continued.
I nodded and let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t have to mean anything though, I scolded myself. “Thank you, Myar Mal.”
He wore a ring with a dallite gem as big as a human eye on his middle finger. I wondered what feat of heroism he must have performed to earn it. In any case, looking at it was easier than meeting his gaze.
“Laik Var seems to have complete confidence in you, however… I want to hear myself where your loyalties lie,” his voice suddenly turned as sharp as his gaze, and my body tensed up again.
It was a simple question. One of those I never thought about, instinctively knowing the answer, but never putting it to words. So, when it was actually asked, I was stumped. Moments passed and I stood, paralyzed no less than as if I had fallen victim to a spell.
“Well?”
The impatience in the kar-vessár’s voice finally broke through my stupor. Though I still had very little idea what assurance I could offer, I needed to say something.
“I was born and raised in a colony,” I started uncertainly, but he cut me short.
“So were they.”
He didn’t have to specify who “they” were. I took a deep breath, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest.
It’s all right, I told myself. Just relax. Breathe.
“My ancestors were low-class citizens,” I picked up. “In Tarviss, we would be forced to work in the fields days and nights with no hope for change. Here, in the colonies, I could become who I wanted. I would never get such chance in Tarviss. And… I’d like for everyone to have that chance. That’s why I joined Mespana, and from what I know, I never gave you a reason to doubt my loyalty.”
I lowered my eyes, but I felt his gaze on me, making my skin crawl and my heart thunder. For a moment, he remained silent, and I wondered if my speech had made the proper impression. I was not a speaker, but I meant every word I said.
All right, maybe it was too much; ridiculously idealistic. Would he think I was bullshitting? I was not, I meant every word I said. I wondered if I should add something, fix it somehow, but before I came up with anything he leaned back in his chair and asked, “Do you have any idea why they would oppose Dahls?”
“No, Myar Mal.”
“Suspicion, then?”
“It’s hard to say without knowing who they are,” before I finished speaking, I already knew what he had in mind.
He must have realized that, because as soon as the last word left my mouth, he requested, “I want you to find out.”
Although I fully expected such a request, actually hearing it made my insides twist into a tight ball. I clenched my fists so tight it hurt, hoping the pain would keep me grounded. It worked only partially.
My jaw felt clenched as tight as a beartrap, and I couldn’t utter a word, even if I had known what to say. Somehow I forced myself to let out a long breath that somewhere along the way turned into a cough.
“Is that an order, Kar-vessár?” I stammered.
I mustered the courage to look up, not at him, but Laik Var, in a silent plea for help, but he kept his face down, eyes fixed on the table.
“A request.” He said this word like he didn’t fully understand what it meant, like it was an order in everything but name. I started to suspect he must have gotten his position by barging into the Directory chambers and demanding the promotion. It’s not likely they would have been able to refuse him.
“I know the risk too well,” he added, almost softly. “But we want to give them another chance to resolve things… peacefully.”
I’ve heard what happened to the Dahlsi officials who were there at the time of the rebellion. The man was instantly killed while the woman was maimed and sent to Kooine with a list of demands. Believe it or not, their lot wasn’t my biggest worry.
“I’m not a diplomat,” I protested.
“I don’t want you to negotiate with them. The Directory has made its decision; you are only to deliver the message. In a way they will hopefully understand.”
“But I’m not a good speaker.”
That was a massive understatement. I always scrambled for words and had the tendency to say all the worst things at all the worst times. The crippling anxiety that paralyzed my tongue and froze my brain every time I had to interact with more than two people didn’t exactly help. And I knew what people thought about me, they made it pretty clear on multiple occasions. That’s why it was just easier for me to keep my mouth shut.
But even my panic-stricken mind knew that trying to explain that to my superiors was not a great idea.
“The little speech you gave us a moment ago seemed good enough for me.” The kar-vessár’s voice, while still adamant, lost its bite. I got an impression he must’ve noticed my distress and was trying to reassure me, but that only made me feel worse. Pitiful.
I didn’t need pity. I needed a wand or a sword and an enemy to kill. Or a world to explore. I was perfectly fine doing ninety-nine percent of