Obligations

by Cheryce Clayton

  Isaac wanted to tell the soldier that it wasn’t a dream, but Sam was far enough into the alcohol that Isaac doubted he could hear the responses he was waiting for.

  “The Drecos dried their dead for meat,” Sam continued. “I would have buried them but their Captain or priest, I don’t know, he insisted I use the meat. I never told anyone. I told them it was game I had trapped. There were three thousand Drecos and they just killed themselves, twenty or thirty a week. He put their death moments in a wooden box and asked me to take them home for him; I have to go back to the camp for the box. It’s in my tent.”

  Isaac listened as Sam’s mumbling faded away into snoring. He stood watching the man for several minutes before leaving the room and searching for Morgan. He found her in the ship’s observation lounge.

  “It will take a while,” Isaac said in Sansheren. “But physically, I think he will be fine.”

  “I have to return to the planet, to coordinate the interim relief. Several Houses have offered generous relief packages. At least as generous as their support of the mercenaries was. I wish I had room for all the human survivors, but it will be crowded with the few people I am taking home with me.” Morgan kept her back to him as she stared out the porthole at the planet below.

  “But my Lady, by right this is your home, and your House now,” Neavillii said with a smile as she entered the small room.

  “The defections of an insane Sansadee’s people say little of the permanence of my alleged promotion,” Morgan replied, and did not turn to face either Neavillii or Isaac. “Tadesde has made me Ouosin, and I have no liking for the title.”

  “May I ask after the meaning of the title Ouosin’s? I have heard it used but never learned the context.” Isaac glanced from Morgan’s back to Neavillii.

  “It denotes one who holds a title without right or rank. One who has been promoted through a rank without merit,” Neavillii said as she continued to watch Morgan.

  “Tadesde’s a valuable example of the danger found in this indulgence.” Morgan turned from the porthole, and Isaac wondered at the sad smile she shared with them.

  “The shuttle is ready, my love,” Neavillii delivered her original message, and Isaac turned to leave the room.

  “Contact me whenever necessary.” Morgan’s hand on his shoulder kept Isaac from leaving until after he’d acknowledged her request.

  Chapter Eight - Bystocc - 2012

  “Hey, careful now,” Neavillii said in Sansheren as she grabbed Enrico’s filthy coat by the collar, preventing him from falling down the stairwell she had just exited. He tried to balance on his one foot, and Neavillii noticed that his other leg’s stump was bleeding red through its bandages. He twisted to give her a look of undeniable terror as he struggled in her grip.

  “Hold her!” an old Sansheren called out from down the dim hall. She panted to a stop in front of them, and Neavillii saw that the other woman’s hair was streaked with pale hints of green that almost matched the color of her single, faded banner. She was still pushing the wheelchair Neavillii realized Enrico had escaped from.

  Neavillii watched with interest as the human child quit fighting her and held still. Frozen and trembling.

  “This alien spawn has no sense of dignity or respect, your Ladyship. She should be beaten soundly and sent for apprenticeship early in my humble opinion.” The old nursery worker moved to take the child back from Neavillii's control, but Enrico snarled, and she jerked away in fear.

  “I have always found a strong will attractive in a child. I would think that it gave strength,” Neavillii said as she used her body to block the woman and offer Enrico the chair.

  “Then I must assume you have not fathered many children. If I might have her chair back, please,” the old woman said as she moved to reclaim her quarry once more.

  This time it was Neavillii’s expression that caused the old woman to pause.

  “My dear wife, Morganea, had a very deep sense of will as a child,” Neavillii said. “I find myself thinking that her strength cannot be doubted.” Neavillii smiled as she pushed the chair past the stunned woman. Enrico, Neavillii noted with a pause, was arching his back to stare up at her.

  “My Lady. You must forgive my impudence. I had no idea that human children were so different from our own beloved. I should have deferred to your better judgment instantly,” the nursery worker said, and was forced to run toward the retreating Neavillii, only to stop when she saw the expression still directed at her.

  “Must I forgive you?” Neavillii asked, but did not wait for response. “Yes, I suppose. Why was this child not kept with the other humans?” Neavillii continued moving.

  “The five children from the death camp were separated out from the other humans. How else could we screen them for regressions, my Lady?” and again the old nursery worker ran to catch up.

  “I recall neither an alliance nor a marriage proposal,” Neavillii started, and stopped to study the other woman. “I wonder that any would be so well trained as to be able to declare without pause the state of an alien child’s evolution,” Neavillii finished, and did not turn her gaze away when the frightened woman indicated a side hallway.

  “My arrogance astounds even myself, oh most benevolent and understanding of patrons,” the other stuttered, “but this child even now gives credence to my argument. See how she bares her teeth at me?”

  Neavillii glanced down at Enrico in time to see him stifle a human grin, and again wondered how much of the conversation he could follow. “It is a smile, nearly a laugh. At your expense I admit,” Neavillii said and stuck her tongue out at Enrico.

  He stared at her for a moment before returning the gesture with far more moisture.

  “I fail to see why so noble a Lady as you would indulge in such insolence. The children’s room is through these doors.”

  Neavillii stuck her tongue out at the old woman’s back as she led the way through the doors; what she saw inside sobered her.

  Three children lay strapped to wooden boards scattered about the floor of the filthy room, a fourth board had cut straps, and Neavillii glanced at Enrico in respect before her gaze found an empty board propped up against a far wall. The smell of waste and infection nearly overpowered her. “What is this outrage?” She demanded. Neavillii left Enrico’s chair beside the door and moved to release the first child from the bonds that bit deep into her arms.

  “But, surely a patron as intelligent and understanding as yourself will understand,” the old woman said. “They are all near infancy. The doctors refused to see them. I did the best I could.” The old woman found her retreat toward the doorway blocked by a teeth-baring Enrico.

  “I am not your patron,” Neavillii snapped without looking up from the rope that held the small child. “Nor do I think my most benevolent wife will be. Her benevolence might extend to allowing you this day to leave the planet. I doubt it will go much further,” Neavillii said, and paused her attempts to untie the child as she made eye contact with the woman. Now she turned her full attention back to the thin ropes. Flexing her finger, she slid a nail between the two cords and worked at cutting outward.

  “But, my Lady, I requested an audience.” The old woman stared from Enrico to Neavillii and back again.

  “You have not left yet? Child, move,” Neavillii snapped, and Enrico’s instant compliance confirmed her suspicions of his language skills. “Wait! What happened to the other child?” Neavillii did not look up as she continued to speak.

  “Oh!” the old woman turned and ran to the door.

  “That is what I was afraid of,” was Neavillii’s response as she brought her gaze up to meet Enrico’s.

  #

  Neavillii spent the morning alternating between pacing the makeshift nursery’s corridor and glaring at the medical staff that refused to treat the children while she waited for Morgan to arrive from the other side of the planet.

  Morgan’s arrival also brought Fanlelo, one of the few Sansheren doctors with any experience in treati
ng humans, leaving both Morgan and Neavillii pacing in the corridor. Neavillii watched with a smile as Morgan vented her frustration by dismissing the other medics and then rescinding the order, but telling them they must become proficient in the treatment of at least one other species.

  “How are they?” Morgan asked when Fanlelo open the door. Neavillii and Morgan moved to stand at the foot of the sleeping Enrico’s bed.

  “She has a strong will. She will be fine,” Fanlelo said waving them back into the hallway.

  “And the carrion responsible?” this time Morgan directed her question to Banessa, the Gulardee soldier who had appointed herself Morgan’s personal bodyguard.

  “I gave her this day to find transportation off planet,” Neavillii interjected.

  “She did not succeed,” was Banessa’s grim response, and Neavillii was not the only one to ignore the sharp teeth she exposed.

  “What of the others?” Morgan turned back to Fanlelo without a pause.

  “There is only one I fear for,” Fanlelo said, and held the room’s door for all to leave. “I do not have the knowledge to judge how fast your most beautiful species recovers from brain injuries,” she continued as Morgan led the way down the hospital corridor. “The other two will recover fully, and should be ready for their apprenticeship test within the year,” Fanlelo finished as the group approached the entry to the hospital.

  “You must contact the human doctor, Isaacke,” Morgan said as Banessa ran down the steps of the building and opened the door on the waiting aircar. “He will be able to answer your questions. Keep me informed,” Morgan said to Neavillii with a tender smile.

  “I will,” Neavillii said with her own smile. She watched Morgan walk down the steps and climb into an aircar before turning back to the Doctor. “I am planning to schedule audiences through the dinner hour,” Neavillii said in an offhand manner. “It will be late when I return.”

  “I will attend the children as if they were born of my favorite wife, my Lady.” Fanlelo placed her hand on Neavillii's shoulder in a reassuring manner as she spoke.

  “Indeed. A better incentive would be to treat them as if they were born of our most wonderful Morganea’s favored wife,” Neavillii said with an intimate inflection and a smile.

  “I will. May I be so presumptuous as to plan a late meal for your wonderful person?” The other asked.

  “I think I might enjoy that. Please do,” Neavillii replied, and found her smile deepening as she turned to walk down the steps.

  #

  “Hello. I have a meeting scheduled with Tadesde’s administrator,” Neavillii addressed a young clerk as she looked about the barren office. It was stripped of wall hangings and furniture, leaving a plain desk positioned in front of a closed door on the far wall.

  “I am very embarrassed to be forced to admit that the Administrator Raceri has left the planet with my most former employer.” The young administrator used an intimate inflection to distance herself from Tadesde. “If you would like to schedule an appointment with me, I will attempt to place your request before my next and most wonderful employer,” the young clerk finished, and she never broke eye contact.

  “Indeed. Tell me, who did your administrator, Raceri, designate to smooth the transition to your next and truly most beautiful employer?” Neavillii smiled as she moved around the clerk’s desk toward the doorway to her own new office.

  “I am sorry to inform you that only my own humble self and a few of my friends chose to remain in Administration when the lady Tadesde declared her withdrawal. If you will kindly leave your name and business, I will pledge my honor that I will attempt to present your case, personally if necessary, to our future government,” the clerk said as she stood and moved to prevent Neavillii from reaching the door.

  “Oh, have you made this pledge to many?” Neavillii demanded, her smile fading. And then she remembered Banessa’s argument for anonymity among Morgan’s higher ranks. With a glance down at her own bannerless chest, Neavillii felt her smile return.

  “In truth, no. It is just that you have the look of my father’s second wife about you. I felt you deserved respect for your obviously noble archetype,” the clerk said and held Neavillii’s gaze once more.

  “Indeed,” Neavillii whispered, more affected by the compliment than she wished to reveal. Instead, she reached forward, and stroked the young woman’s cheek fur where a hint of green could still be seen mingling with her adult reddish orange.

  “My Lady, I look forward to dining together soon. But now we’re in a very public place, and I am awaiting my future employer.” The clerk blushed as her eyes darted from Neavillii to the office doorway and back again.

  “I will hold you to your invitation. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?” Neavillii asked, and waited for the clerk to speak.

  “I, my name is Thanera. I hold the Fifth rank of the Tamsatel,” the clerk answered.

  “It is my honor and pleasure to meet you, Thanera. As for my own humble self, I am Neavillii. I hold the Twelfth rank of Tamsatel, the Ninth rank of Gulardee, and the Fifth rank of Sansadee. And I have the extreme honor to name Morganea my wife,” Neavillii said slowly in a vain attempt to soften the impact of her words.

  “Oh,” the sound was more a breath than a word, and Neavillii laughed as she helped the stunned Thanera to her chair.

  “From my perspective, can you think of a better job interview?” Neavillii asked the recovering clerk.

  “I would never presume to judge your motives, my Lady. I only feel foolish to have offered an evening with someone so obviously above my rank,” Thanera said, and kept her head down, refusing to meet Neavillii’s eyes.

  “To have made the fifth rank of Tamsatel before fertility, anyone would be forced to admit the potential of rank. Besides, it is I who wear no banners, and none would fault your ambition,” Neavillii said, and she knelt until her face was level with Thanera’s.

  When Thanera’s head came up in protest, Neavillii stared deep into her startled eyes. “It was not ambition that spurred my offer,” she whispered.

  “Indeed, I thought not.” Neavillii once again reached out to stroke the younger woman’s cheek.

  “Excuse me, but I think a touch of modesty is in order. Which of you belongs behind that desk?” Short by even Sansheren standards, the woman standing in the office doorway was bloated and nearly furless. Neavillii saw that she wore stained felt pants and a torn Gulardee banner that placed her within the ranks of the Houseless spacers.

  “What may I do for you today?” Thanera asked, and nudged Neavillii before giving a quick glance to the office’s picture window.

  Neavillii took the hint and moved to stare out at the devastated city as she listened to the conversation.

  “I demand an interview with the Arbitrator Morganea’s representative.” The obese Sansheren entered the room and headed toward the closed door with an assurance Neavillii felt misrepresented her rank.

  “If you would so kindly give me your name and business, I will see that my most benevolent employer receives you in all due haste.” Thanera stepped around her desk, and the other woman was forced to halt.

  “I will not be put off so that you can return to your afternoon tryst. I insist that you contact your employer and tell her of my presence,” she demanded with foul breath.

  Neavillii watched the spacer’s reflection in the glass and noticed that several of her dulled teeth were missing.

  “If you would tell me your business, I would be pleased to schedule you an appointment with my honorable employer.” Thanera kept her back to Neavillii as she spoke.

  “I cannot afford to be put off by a front office clerk and her lover. I have a hold full of starches that will go stale long before you remember to tell your employer of my visit. I insist you inform your Lady now,” the spacer demanded.

  Neavillii saw Thanera’s shoulders tense as the spacer’s breath fouled the air in the large office.

  “Why should this matter involve my employer?
” Thanera asked with equal rudeness. “I feel confident that she will simply remind you that your ship’s cargo became the Lady Morganea’s property when Tadesde signed over this planet. And the benevolent Morganea has instructed all supplies be delivered up for general distribution,” Thanera said as she moved past the spacer and opened the entry doorway.

  “But I have not been paid for my cargo! Surely the Arbitrator Morganea could not expect me to surrender all hope of profit? Where is the justice in that?” the woman did not follow Thanera to the entry but instead hurried across the room toward the inner doorway.

  “There is no one inside!” Thanera called out before the other could open the door. “If you will sit at my desk, I will see what can be done for you and your cargo of much needed starches.” Thanera shrugged to Neavillii as she sat at her desk and activated her communication unit.

  “Finally,” the spacer said, and moved to sit where Thanera was pointing. “If you assist me in getting my payment, I promise I will not report you to your employer.”

  Neavillii felt herself having difficulty controlling the urge to laugh as the pompous spacer gestured in her direction.

  “Indeed,” Thanera said in a near perfect imitation of Neavillii. “Trizonu, I need a record checked. What was the name of your vessel?” she lowered the communication unit as she addressed the ship captain.

  “The Slender Beauty, we made planet fall three days before the Arbitration,” the obese woman said with an effort to sit straighter, and brushed at a stain on her single banner.

  “The Slender Beauty. It did? It was? Thank you. Yes, I did meet her. I think it’ll work. At dinner? Great,” and in the window’s reflection Neavillii made eye contact with Thanera as the young administrator spoke.