by Loki Renard
“Why? What happened to them?”
“They tried to get out,” he says. “A large group of them banded together and protested at what they thought was the barrier at the edge of the world. Of course the garden is a disc levitating inside a magnetic field, so they just… fell off.”
“If you keep humans in an enclosure they can fall off, then that’s your fault. Not hers.”
“Incorrect,” the judiciar says. “Humans require danger in their environments. We still include electrical circuits which are capable of electrocuting a human if they put a metal eating utensil in them. There’s no need for that, but we make sure that you can fit the tines in the hole regardless, because that’s what people do. They make things just safe enough to still be wildly dangerous.”
“We do, do that,” I admit.
“Cars,” the judiciar says. “We let them have cars, and not even to keep it period appropriate. We do it because if we don’t, they spend all their time trying to make them anyway, because humans insist on rolling around. They love to roll at speeds higher than their frail bodies can actually tolerate. No other animal chooses to do that.”
“Every single advanced species does that,” Tarkan insists. “We all travel faster than the speed of light, and none of us could survive a collision at that speed.”
“The fact remains,” the judiciar says, “humans require a certain level of entirely unnecessary, utterly pointless, totally redundant danger in their lives. Without it, they start looking for it.”
“So?”
“So your actions set off a lethal chain reaction which caused greater casualties than any other incident in the history of the simulation. And for that, you were punished.”
“That’s why I was in the traveling zoo.”
“Exactly. Your memory was thoroughly erased,” he explains. “We made sure of it the second time. You were transported off world, where your sentence was to be put on display in a subsidiary’s display. Those associates appear to have been brutally murdered, and here you are again. Back to cause trouble.”
Beside me, Tarkan is beaming with unmistakable pride.
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“Not being able to remember your crimes does not absolve you of them.”
“Don’t worry,” Tarkan says. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Incorrect,” the judiciar says. “Many things are going to happen to her. She will be mind flashed and returned to exhibit.”
“Nope,” Tarkan says. “That’s not going to happen. She’s mine. And she didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She broke our laws. She tried to free the humans. And, worst of all, she caused a five percent reduction in profits across the third quarter.”
“I don’t care if she set your underwear on fire,” Tarkan says. “She’s under my protection now. She's mine.”
“You have no right to own a human. Galactor owns the right to every single human in the sector. You can purchase rental rights, if you like, but this particular human is not available. She’s defective.”
Tarkan flexes casually. I thought he had his true nature on display, but I was wrong. Every sharp part of him rises, growing by several inches. The dorsal ridge running down his spine flares out to an impressive height, and when he speaks, even his words are sharp.
“She's not defective,” he says calmly. Too calmly. I am certain the judiciar is about to find one or more of Tarkan’s hard bladed body parts buried inside him. Tarkan has fought to free me once. I know he’d do it again.
But there’s a problem. I’m starting to remember what happened before I was banished. Oh boy. Wow. I’m really starting to remember.
“She won’t cause any more trouble with me,” Tarkan is saying as I interrupt him.
“Yes I will. I’ll do it all again. I’ll tell the people down there that they're not living a real life. I’ll make them realize that you’re using them. And I’ll…”
“Okay, it would really help if you could not say that out loud right now,” Tarkan hisses at me. “You couldn’t at least pretend to be well behaved?”
“It’s not about well-behaved. It’s about fuck these guys,” I say, pulling language right from the part of my brain that is starting to unlock at a reckless pace. I’m getting all kinds of recollections assaulting my mind, ones of being here, in this place, of being told that it was my job to help these aliens oppress my species.
Holy fuck. Before I was a slave - I was an Andrew. I got benefits and perks. I had my own apartment looking out over what was supposed to be the Bahamas. I got to scuba dive every day, and all I had to do was keep my mouth shut, while occasionally performing the occasional brainwashing song.
I was famous. I was rich. And I knew none of it meant anything because there was no point to anything that happened. We were all living a circular reality which was reset every few years. It might be the eighties now, but the aliens liked to replicate different eras for the amusement of their clients. I once had to spend three years in a cave because we’d all been sent back to the iron age.
“How much would it cost to buy her?”
At least Tarkan is talking their language now.
“Humans are not available for purchase,” the judiciar says. “That is strict Galactor policy.”
“Is it strict Galactor policy to allow humans to be abused by captors until they die?”
“Occasionally,” the judiciar shrugs. “If they deserve it.”
“He doesn’t care,” I say. “It doesn’t matter what happens to us humans. The only reason they haven’t killed me is because they know life is suffering and they want me to have to live it.”
"What if…” Tarkan reaches out and puts a hand over my mouth to stop me talking. “What if I take her into my custody. What if I promise she will never return here, and that she will be punished for her sins, forced into scythkin discipline, made to follow orders and live harmoniously according to our laws?”
“She wouldn’t like that,” the judiciar says. “But you have to promise to be terrible to her.”
“I promise,” Tarkan says, using one of his rare lies.
“Very well,” the judiciar relents. “I do not have time to deal with the same single human over and over again. But be warned. If I ever see her again, a terrible fate will befall you both.”
“Care to be more specific about that terrible fate?”
“No.”
Chapter Ten - Hate
Tarkan
“I HATE YOU!”
42 screams words with such passion I’d almost believe them if she wasn’t clinging to me with every ounce of strength in her frail human form. I can feel her fingers curling against me, gripping my hard ridges, grasping my muscles. Her voice is high pitched and yet filled with pathetic rage.
It’s not her fault she can’t possibly fight the powers she wants to destroy. It’s not me she’s angry at, though right now I’m glad my ears are horned and can be covered with a protective ridge which slides across whenever the decibel level of battle rises to damaging levels, or I’m fairly certain I would be going deaf right now.
“You don’t hate me, you love me.”
“I hate you, I hate you. You let him let me go. You didn’t even fight him! What kind of scythkin are you!?”
She has no fangs or aggressive facial ridges. She has no knives on her hands, or swords coming out of her knees, but she still somehow manages to project pure ferocity just with those eyes of hers. They sear with outrage and anger. If she were a Scythkin matriarch, she would be unstoppable. As she is human, she’s just adorable.
Suffice to say, I took the deal. We’re back on board the ship, heading away from Galactor space as fast as possible. 42 is not grateful for her rescue. Not one bit.
42
“That was a zoo! That wasn’t real humanity! That was an exhibit! You don't understand, because you're not human. It’s better to die than to live like this.”
“It’s always better to live than to di
e.”
Tarkan is never, ever serious, but he says those words with such authority and gravitas that I stop even though my temper is in full flight.
“Not always,” I hiss.
I know what it is to live in captivity, to wish with every breath that the next one would not come. He is so powerful and so strong he doesn’t know what it is to lose, let alone be kept captive. He will never understand that. Or me.
“I can’t leave them back there.”
“You can’t save them all. But I can save you.”
“Take me back, Tarkan. Take me back now!”
Tarkan
I’m obviously not going to take her back. I actually agree with the judiciar. The humans are not suffering. They are living in an unnatural colony, true, but for the most part they are happy - and that is not an element of the human condition which is often achieved.
“I’ve destroyed one human planet,” I tell her. “I won’t destroy another one.”
“You saw what they were doing to humans. You saw that girl on her knees. He hijacked her brain and he…”
“We saw what one corrupt man was doing, taking advantage. And he’s dead, so…”
“So nobody will ever be corrupt again,” I say, waving my arms to emphasize the sarcasm. “It’s fine! Humanity lives in a zoo now.”
“You’re free,” he says.
“Fuck freedom, and fuck you.”
“Stop it,” he growls. “You’re acting like a spoiled little girl, and I will treat you like one if you keep it up.”
“I’m not acting spoiled! I’m acting brave!”
“There’s nothing brave about shrieking at the man trying to keep you safe from yourself.”
He’s disappointed in me. I can see it written in the angular lines of his face, the erect set of his horns, the way he holds himself. He expected gratitude, but what did we achieve down there besides showing me the people I tried to save and failed?
“Take me back down. Now.”
His jaw clenches and I brace myself for pain. He’s going to beat me, I bet. He’s going to do what all the others in my life have done and inflict pain to control me. But it won’t work, and we both know it. I don’t care about pain when it comes to doing what is right. There are no words and no amount of punishment that can stop me.
“You want to beat me?” I hiss. “You want to do what Reaper says and thrash me into submission? Go on. Do it. I dare you.”
Tarkan shakes his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. One day I hope you’ll realize that.”
With that, he spins on his heel and he walks away, leaving me furious. I scream after him, more demands to send me back to the planet, more pleas for us to go back and help the humans stuck in that sick simulation - but in the end, I’m just shouting to myself.
Tarkan
“You okay?” Reaper asks me the question as I storm into our lounge.
“She’s so angry,” I say to Reaper, throwing myself down in a chair next to him, grabbing a bottle of synth from the dashboard. It’s his drink. And it is warm. I don’t care. I drink it anyway. I need to calm down. Synth contains calming agents and hormonal deactivators which help our kind quell our rages. I’m not precisely angry at 42, but I am frustrated at her refusal to be happy. We should be celebrating right now. We escaped. She's safe, and will be forever. Instead, she’s foaming like a maniac and demanding we go right back into harm’s way.
“Of course she is. Humans choose anger over most any other emotion. If they can be angry rather than being sad, they will be. She’s mourning.”
“She’s blaming me. What were we supposed to do? Dismantle the entire Galactor corporation? Free the humans? To where? None of them know how to live outside the simulation. They don’t even know life exists outside the simulation. We’re in no position to save a hundred and forty thousand humans from their perfectly comfortable lives.”
“I think I have that Andrew guy in my teeth,” One complains, sucking at her canines.
“That’s not possible,” Reaper says. “The suit’s teeth were the ones that made contact.”
“At first, sure, but then after…” she curls back her lips and makes a gnashing motion with her teeth.
“You’re a feral little thing.”
“Sure am,” she grins. “Do you want me to talk to 42? She might listen to me. I know a thing or two about forgiving the unforgivable.”
“Do you now.”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m very wise.”
“She doesn't need a talk from One. She needs a good butt warming from you,” Reaper says.
I shake my head. I don’t want to punish her because she's angry, even if she is rude. And I definitely don’t want to take out my own bruised ego on her. When she’s calmed down and sees the error of her ways, we will talk. She’ll see sense then. She has to.
Chapter Eleven - Whistleblower
42
“Okay, so. I’m not really supposed to be here, but you need to hear some things.”
I look up to see that Reaper’s girl is in my room. I don’t like that. I don’t like her. I don’t like anybody right now. I just want to be alone. She’s just walked in like she owns the place. I’m pretty sure she thinks she does, with her sleek red hair and beautiful features. She’s secure in a way I’m not. She’s bonded to Reaper without question. I never hear them do more than bicker, because she’s just the perfect little human. Not like me.
“What do you want?”
She jerks her head back and then gives a little shrug, as if she’s decided to throw diplomacy out the window same as I have. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“What?”
“You’re more lucky to be alive than you can even really understand,” she says. “It’s good we’re not near Galactor space now. That means we might actually survive.”
“So I just get to run away and live happily ever after, and that’s it? Fuck everybody back there on the planet?”
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, because sometimes surviving is all you can do. And it’s not worth sacrificing yourself or those you love to try and save people who can’t be saved. It’s kind of arrogant to think that you can just fix everything in one go.”
“So that’s why they call you One.”
“Why?”
“Because you think you’re the only one who matters.”
She narrows her eyes at me. I’m getting under her skin. Good.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not the only one that matters, but I am one that does matter. And so are you. And so are Reaper and Tarkan. The four of us are lucky to be alive. Try being grateful for that.”
I don’t want to hear it. My friends are down there. People I used to know. Used to care about. I can’t just sit up here and enjoy my freedom while I know they don’t have theirs. She doesn't understand. And that’s why I decide to lie to her face.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “I’m just tired. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Oh, well, you’re welcome,” she smiles.
“I think I need a nap,” I say, hinting she should go.
“Okay, well, if you ever need to talk…”
“Uh huh,” I grimace, feeling my face muscles hurt from pretending to be happy. I smile back until the door closes, and then the smile drops from my face. So that’s what they want me to be like. They want me to be a nice, quiet, perfectly obedient, most of the time girl who agrees with them and does what they want, and is ever so grateful just to be alive and doesn’t care how many other people are suffering as long as I’m okay.
Well, fuck that.
I know what I’m going to do.
I’m going to steal a shuttle.
The ship has two shuttles, and neither one of them are in use. They’re not locked down because I don’t think Tarkan knows I understand how they work, but I’ve watched him at the controls and these ships are calibrated in such a way as to let any alien use them.
I slip through the many empty halls and enter one
of the shuttle bays, setting myself up behind the controls. They're not complicated. The controls are nothing more than a hand held device with a directional pad on one side, six effect buttons on the other, and two sets of triggers at the front. The bottom two are forward and reverse, the top two are weapons fire. Sweet. This is all I need.
It’s almost too easy, I think to myself as I send the shuttle swinging back toward Galactor space.
It takes longer than I expected for Tarkan’s voice to come crackling over the intercom.
“42, get back here. Now.”
“Nope.”
“You’re going to come back here right now,” Tarkan insists. “If I have to come and get you, you’re going to regret it.”
“That’s too vague to be a good threat.”
“Come back now,” he growls, his voice so deep he makes the speaker resonate. “I’m ordering you to obey me.”
I feel a quiver in my stomach, some kind of instinct which tells me I might want to do as he says. Tarkan has always been gentle with me. He knows I’ve been hurt, and he always tries to find a way not to hurt me. But that tone, that says he might be changing his mind.
“Oh wow,” I say, hoping the sarcasm travels. “You’re ordering me to obey you? Wow. Let me get right on that.”
I know Reaper has been telling him I need to be disciplined. Tarkan hasn’t taken him seriously. This might change that, but I don’t care. Whatever Tarkan wants to do me, I’ll take. It’s worth it for a chance at freeing humanity.
Their ship has come around on it course and is now giving chase behind me. It’s faster than my shuttle, but it isn’t as maneuverable. With one flick of my finger, I can send my shuttle looping up and over in a barrel roll, skidding just a few hundred feet away from the hull of the ship. I can see Tarkan and Reaper inside the bridge, staring at me with their burning eyes.
“42! Get in here now!” Tarkan’s voice comes over the speaker again.
“Nope. I’m going back to the simulation, and I’m going to crack it wide open. I’m going to drive this ship right into it.”