“Relax. You’re in good hands,” said a new voice. It came from off camera, but it sounded like a female Zhoogene with an offworlder accent from somewhere rimward of Kryzabik. “It’s good to hear you describe yourself as a journalist, Fhu-Reynahu, because I own a news outlet. It used to go by a different name, but under its new management it’s called F&F News Network. Fearless and Favorless. And we have a story I would like you to cover.”
* * * * *
Chapter 14: Izza Zan Fey
The Great Toxic Sludge Lake
“Didn’t you call this lake an underappreciated site of natural beauty?”
The Zhoogene news reader, Fhu-Reynahu, ignored the weapons on display and sniffed contemptuously at Green Fish’s question. “You are quoting me out of context.”
“You’re the only one I could quote at all,” Green Fish replied. “No one else would admit to its existence.”
Phantom’s newest recruit retreated to the line of her crewmates. It was mixed with journalists and camera crew who’d stayed on when KIN had become Fearless and Favorless.
By the shoreline, the two anchors of KNS Priority News and six other prominent journalists glanced nervously at the noxious water. They ignored the inflatable huts to one side where they’d been ordered to change into the swimwear provided.
Lynx hovered over the muddy shore near the journalists. He extruded a pinch grip arm and a scalpel. “Let me save everyone’s time and remove their clothing. Meat beings are so ridiculous. Forever banging away about how superior they are to mechanoids, but they get so coy when you ask them to show you their meat.”
“No, please!” Fhu-Reynahu sank to her knees, staring at the cylindrical metal droid with pleading eyes.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so put off,” Izza told her. “I know from your personal feeds you can swim. You just need to put on the bathing costume and go for a dip.”
“Please.”
“If it’s the costume that’s worrying you, we’re okay with you swimming naked. We’ll just edit out the parts that children shouldn’t see and save them for the celebrity gossip feeds.”
A barrage of whining erupted from the borrowed journalists.
Izza gestured for them to zip it and pointed out one of the humans, allowing him to speak.
“You’re upset about something,” said the man. “Something that’s been on the news. I understand that. Facts belong to the highest bidder in our line of work. Some people get hurt, but it’s just business. Whatever it is.”
“And is it your job to lie?” Izza asked.
“We don’t lie. We’re selective with the facts and that’s not the same at all. We always stick to a deeper emotional truth, which is even more valid. Muties—no offense—slacks, M-bugs, enviro-sanctionists and Panhandlers. We make people hate them, and they love it.”
“Cameras are rolling,” Izza told them. “I want to hear some truth out of you.”
“It’s not fair,” complained one of the humans. “You haven’t told us which truth we’re supposed to be telling. Please. Tell us your narrative.”
“Our narrative is the truth. And balance. That’s why we haven’t told you what to say. That’s the philosophy behind our new F&F Network.”
“You’re insane,” Fhu-Reynahu snarled.
“I think it could be a viable business model,” said Lynx.
“It’s never worked in the past,” said the news star. “It won’t now.”
“That’s only because anyone revealing awkward facts gets killed. This time is different.” At her gesture, Sinofar, Green Fish, and Fregg fired volleys of blaster bolts into the mud at the journalists’ feet, splattering them with the contaminated gray substance. They screamed and waved their hands about frantically, but they were trapped between the devilish F&F people and the toxic lake.
Izza waved for her people to cease firing. “Odette, please explain your new editorial policy to your journalist peers.”
Odette Cohn took two steps forward from the firing line. “Fearless and Favorless has friends with big guns,” she told her cowering peers from the established networks. “You mess with our people, and your sponsors and owners will find themselves waking in the gutter to find their bodies have redesigned orifices.”
“I’ll make you suffer!” hissed Fhu-Reynahu.
“I’m going to ask my first question of this interview, and I’m directing it at you.” Cohn walked up to the Zhoogene anchor and stared into her golden eyes. “If I don’t like the answer, the next volley of bolts won’t go wide. Fhu-Reynahu, why won’t you swim in this lake?”
“Because it’s toxic. Is that what you want to hear, you ugly human bitch? It’s toxic. Poisonous. Deadly mine runoff. I’m gonna lose ten years of my life just standing this close.”
“Huh?” Cohn stepped back. “But that doesn’t make sense. If this toxic lake has come from the mines, how come Gliar-G’s mining permissions haven’t been rescinded?”
“Gliar-G Mining paid off the governor,” said Fhu-Reynahu’s human colleague, Lonstanzo.
“Who was recalled,” said Cohn.
“Yeah.” Lonstanzo sneered. “Consorting with mutants. Got caught. Damned freak.”
Izza exchanged incredulous looks with Fregg and Green Fish. That he was insulting Izza’s kind hadn’t registered with the little skragg.
“Is that another lie?” Cohn asked.
Lonstanzo shook his head. “Nope. One hundred percent accurate.”
“Err…no, it’s not.”
Lonstanzo frowned at the lungman who’d spoken.
The lungman shrugged. “I set that rumor running. Gliar-G paid us top credits to do so.” The others shot him looks of hatred. “Oh, come on!” he protested. “Stop pretending like you’re all innocent. These people already know the lies we’ve been peddling.”
“We do,” said Izza. “We want full confessions in front of our cameras from all of you. Every scandal you suppressed. Every smear you fabricated. Every lie. If you leave anything out, we will know, and you will suffer the consequences. On your knees, all of you!”
Eyes wide in terror, they sank to their knees in the polluted mud.
“Truth or death,” said Izza with a grin. “Hey! I’ve just invented our new corporate motto. Here’s how it works. You tell us the truth about anything we haven’t yet mentioned, or you die.”
Izza hadn’t expected much, just a few leads to give Cohn’s crew something to sink their teeth into. As it turned out, once the eight journos she’d borrowed for this event started talking, she couldn’t shut them up. It took over two hours to record it all. Plenty enough to hold some back in reserve as leverage.
When she finally allowed them to go, she made them strip to their underwear and walk back to the nearest town on foot. She wanted them to feel the burn of the toxins on their feet and skin. For them to know that things had changed on this planet.
For once, Izza would be leaving a world she’d helped change for the better.
* * * * *
Chapter 15: Izza Zan Fey
Phantom, Hudstan City Spaceport
“Thank you.” There were tears in Creyoh Zi’Alfu’s eyes as she watched the feed from her family’s news network attack the lies that had been spread about her. She turned to her daughter-in-law sitting beside her on cushions that had once supported Nyluga-Ree’s perpetually sweaty backside. She seemed about to say something profound.
Instead, she shook her head and opened her arms.
Izza came into her embrace.
Five Hells! The woman might be in her nineties, but she hugged like a Jotun.
“You’ve done well,” said Creyoh. “You deserve to take the afternoon off. Spend it with me. We’ll pick up some pastries from the shop on Culver Street, and we can enjoy a pot of my celebration tea. Phantom’s crew can look after itself for a while.”
Izza eased back. “I don’t know. I’ve places I need to be. People depending on me…”
Creyoh took her disappointment stoically. Bu
t…if you couldn’t spend a little time with your family, what was the point of it all?
“Bylzak!” Izza proclaimed. “You promised me tea, and that’s what I’m going to have. Just the two of us. The next job can wait.”
* * *
Nyluga-Ree’s Dungeons, Pleigei
The cell door creaked open on its hinges.
She was here again. Vetch could smell her sweet scent. The stale odor of the jailer was present too. Even for a Xhiunerite, he stank.
“It’s play time, my pet.”
Vetch got to his feet slowly, sliding up against the stone wall of his cell. He hid the excitement fizzing through his muscles, but could her exceptional ears hear his heart pounding?
Only one way to find out.
He turned and faced the door.
Maycey lifted her upper lip, revealing gleaming white teeth. In contrast to the sullen squid jailer, everything about her was pristine, from the leather of her halter top and boots to the metal shaft of her power lance. But most of all, she kept her jade and bronze fur gleaming.
When his chance came, he would skin her, turn that pretty fur into a rug. And then he’d pour cheap beer onto her and rub it in with his muddy boots.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for taking you out for fun and games?”
“Sure,” he muttered. He’d give her his thanks in a moment.
Vetch shuffled out of his cell with his hands behind his back. Then he leaped into action.
He jumped on Maycey’s back, pulling the garotte he’d fashioned out of his mattress around her throat.
She writhed out of his hold before he could choke her. In a fluid motion, she slid down his belly, rubbed herself gratuitously against his manhood, then popped up behind him. Maycey reached forward to cut his garotte with her claws, but he threw his weight back and pushed. They backpedaled into the squid jailer. All three crashed in a heap on the floor.
Before Vetch could find his feet, Maycey boxed his ears, leaving his head ringing.
When he sat up, Maycey was standing a few feet away, nonchalantly licking her fur as if nothing had happened. She looked up from her grooming and blinked at him. “Feeling frisky this morning?” she teased and returned to cleaning her fur. She paused. “I like it.”
Vetch gave Maycey a groan of defeat. He kept inside the elation at his victory. He’d just played her. And won.
In his hand was the master key he’d lifted from the jailer.
By his reckoning, he didn’t have much time left to use it if he was going to get out of the Nyluga’s palace alive.
Unfortunately, he knew of others with even less time left than him.
* * *
Zi’Alfu Residence, Kryzabik
Creyoh paused in the process of righting ornaments knocked over when the mob descended on her home. “You never told me why you wanted to know if I’d met Lord Khallini.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Izza pleaded. The place was a mess, and she felt bad drinking a cup of tea from the comfort of the sofa while she watched Creyoh do all the work.
“I’m sure. Now answer the question.”
“Khallini’s words to Fitz were: ‘You remind me of your mother.’ Are you sure you don’t know him?”
The older woman considered the question seriously for a few moments. “It’s true that I took a lot of jumping caps when I was young enough to think I was invincible.” She waved away Izza’s question. “It was a narcotics craze. Then every system in the Tej Sector put something in the water that killed its buzz. Overnight, the market for jumping caps vanished. It means my memories of that period are a little muddled, but I think I would remember hanging out with an ancient space pygmy. No, my dear, this Khallini was talking about your mother too. And mine. I think I’d best put the kettle on. We’re going to need another pot of tea. The really good stuff this time because I need to give you the talk.”
* * *
After making Izza wait twenty minutes on the sofa, Creyoh returned with an apologetic smile. She brought in a gold tray bearing a tea pot of polished black stone.
It wasn’t just the teapot that had been upgraded. Creyoh had changed into fancier clothes. Over a quilted tunic in apricot and crimson, she wore a shimmer-silk shawl cycling shades of fire. The way vertical black stripes in the tunic matched up against her black leather pants reminded Izza of a Guild token.
The ensemble was stylish. From another era and far too formal for a cup of tea in a trashed house, but nonetheless stylish.
Izza was wearing her glossy pink duster over an eggplant tee and dark pants. “I wish you’d warned me,” she said. “I feel underdressed.”
“Well, don’t! I was just starting to think you were something a little better than my son’s green sex rocket.” The older woman waved hands over Izza’s form. “What with your head growth and your pheromones. And those beautiful eyes.” Creyoh rolled her own eyes. “Alien girls! Always my little boy’s weakness. Do you know, when he was twelve, I hacked into his personal slate and discovered his collection of—?”
“Mrs. Zi’Alfu, I don’t want to know. I thought we had come to an accommodation. I know I’ll never be good enough for your son, so let’s accept that as a given and politely tolerate each other. It’s progress from where we were before, so why don’t you tell me whatever it is you need to say and then we’ll depart on good terms while we still can.”
“Better.” Creyoh’s smile reached her eyes for the first time. “You’re right, you’re not good enough for my son.”
Despite her cruel words, she was still smiling as if they were friends. She poured Izza a cup, bowing as she offered it. Was this some kind of ceremony? “However, I’m beginning to think you could be good enough, Izza Zan Fey. I have high hopes for you, but you still have a lot to learn. We Guildsfolk like to tell ourselves we know how the galaxy operates. So does the Legion. Neither are correct. You need to branch out of your silo and learn from people who are other than you.”
“You were a Guildswoman? Fitz never mentioned this.”
“I am a former Nyluga, Del-Saisha Zan Fey. Left the business to marry your husband’s father. He was a Legion officer, a potential conflict of interest that the Guild would never tolerate. There is much you do not understand, but today I need to talk about our heritage. What makes our family special.”
She reached out to touch Izza’s hand. “And we are special. Blessed by nature. It is only the people of the Federation who curse us. Tell me, do you ever feel ashamed of who you are?”
“You mean my genetics? No, never.”
Looking unconvinced by Izza’s words, Creyoh sat and poured herself some tea. “Let me put it another way. Do you ever wish you could be like them? Normal?”
Izza thought of ways to deny Creyoh’s assertion. She found none.
“It’s bad enough the way you and Fitz are reviled for being different,” Izza said. “I’m part Zhoogene and part human. I’m mostly the former, but I’m enough of the latter to stand out as unique. I’ve never met anyone like me. In every group and every lineup, in every market, bar, team, and suck shack, I’m different. If I had a way to switch that off, I would do so. Forever.”
Creyoh winked at her and began to tell a story.
“Long ago, in the Orion Era, there once lived two powerful women. One was hideously disfigured, her flesh melted in battle. The other was so beautiful that men worshipped her, women did too—I’m sure you would have, my dear. Birds perched on her shoulders and sang her the most glorious songs. Gentle woodland creatures would lie at her feet and listen to her words.”
“Oh, stop. You’re talking drent.”
“It’s my story, and you should listen carefully. While one of these women was pure chaos, the other was order. Each thought they were the good one, the other evil.
“Both were the emperor’s lovers. First one, then the other. Then the first again, and then the other. Men!” She rolled her eyes. “They don’t improve over the eons. The Emperor could never truly choose one o
ver the other. For a century or so he would convince himself he had, but the fact was, he would always love them both.”
“I’ve read up on early Federation history,” stated Izza. “You’re referring to the arrival of the Exiles. These are all historical figures. We don’t have to invent terms like ‘emperor.’”
“Hush, child. Don’t believe what you read. Have you learned nothing from your time on this world? History is written by the powerful. My story comes from the heart, from our shared blood, and that’s where its true power lies.”
Izza surrendered to the nonsense with a shrug.
“The Emperor had fifty children with one lover and fifty-one with the other.”
“Why the imbalance?”
Creyoh thought on that for a few seconds. “Nobody knows. I almost evened the number to make the story tidier, but apparently one remained on Earth while the others came here. Maybe that’s a part of our story that has yet to play out. But those hundred are our ancestors. That much is certain.”
“Did they have purple eyes too? How about the hair? Legionaries tattoo the image of the Immortal Empress on their chests and pray to her before battle. Her hair is stuck out as if she’s in zero-g, and it’s vivid lilac. Is the Empress our ancestor too?”
Creyoh gave an apologetic smile. “I wish I knew more. Perhaps she was. Not all of us have unusual physical attributes, but the special genetic code we carry seems to want to express itself in purple pigmentation.”
“Not always,” said Izza. “Both my parents passed for normal.” She stared out into the distant memory of a harsh upbringing. “So did my grandparents. When I came along, my family faked my death so I wouldn’t shame them by being seen in public. I was discovered, though, and made to attend school. I think my parents had the right idea to hide me.”
She looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes, but she didn’t see sympathy there. Only anger.
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