by DC Bastien
"Do you have any sweet pastries?" she asked as politely as she could.
"No," the Human behind the counter answered, curt and low.
As they were a common treat, that was a little odd. She looked at the glass-fronted stall, trying to find something else to purchase, and saw there were quite clearly three kinds of pastries for sale in a section tailored to Human and Hleen consumers.
"May I have two of those?" she asked, pointing to the orange treats.
She looked up, only to find the shopkeeper was now avoiding her eyes and looking at something on his counter-top instead.
Was it something she had said? Was she wearing something offensive? Had she somehow arranged her bows in an obscene manner? The old worry that the flecks of blue that marred her otherwise beautiful purple eyes had singled her out for exclusion - even amongst other races - arched up and clutched at her stomach, and she tried to work out if she should ask again, louder, or just walk on.
That was when she caught the flicker of movement reflected in the glass screen. Someone moving towards her, and fast. Without pausing to check what, who or why, Saidhe stepped quickly to the side, watching as the attacker's hands - clutched together in one big ball of digits - came crashing into the shatter-proof glass. The Sianar howled in pain and turned to face her, his lips drawn back to reveal a mouth full of sharp, long teeth.
Saidhe backed up, one hand in front of her, the other going for her side-arm. Unlike most planetary docks and markets, this one allowed side-arms, and she was grateful for the concession... until she realised it applied to everyone else, as well. From behind her ear was the sound of another gun cocking.
"You're going to apologise to my friend, here," came Vadim's voice from just over her shoulder, and never had she been so happy to hear him in her life.
"The blue-eyed bitch needs putting down, like the rest of her grunt-clutch," the Sianar snapped, using the language normally reserved for insulting the Roq.
"This blue-eyed bitch is a hundred times the man you never will be, hairball," Vadim replied. "Now are you going to apologise politely, or do I need to beat you so when the apology does come out, it's hacked up and spat out with a few teeth for good measure?"
"She won't even be able to spit when I am done with her."
Angry, Saidhe decided enough was enough. She loosed one round between the Sianar's braced legs, close enough to singe the fur of his inner thighs, and leave a char-mark on his modesty shorts.
"And when I am done with you, you won't be siring any more cubs, just letting other bloodlines mock you about how you were unmanned by a 'blue-eyed bitch' two feet smaller than you, using her off-hand."
The Sianar's tail whipped from side to side, as he tried to work out if he could charge at them before he was castrated. At the show of force, the rest of the crowd had pulled back and gone much more dangerously quiet.
"Better," Vadim said, holstering his gun noisily. "Now scram, before I find a reason to do it anyway, then haul you whimpering by your scruff to the Judge I carry aboard. Understand?"
There wasn't an answer as such, just another snarl and a small cloud of dust as the attacker fled.
"You alright there, Sparkle?"
"Yes. Yes. I am... I am good, Captain. Thank you."
"No sweat. What'd you do to piss off the walking carpet?"
"I am not sure. I have been sensing increasing hostility as I progressed through the market, but I could not pinpoint the reason. Even the vendors were being unhelpful."
"That so?" Vadim asked, and then he obviously saw the food-seller shrinking down. "You weren't helping my good friend here? She come to spend her well-earned coin at your very humble place of business, and you not only didn't help her, but you were ready to watch her get chewed like a toy?"
"I did nothing of the sort," the other Human huffed.
"Then why did you tell me you had no pastries?" Saidhe pushed. He'd insulted her, and she wasn't going to back down.
"An... error. Nothing more. My... assistant must have made another batch without my knowledge."
"So, you'll be offering a discount, then, won't you?" Vadim asked. "Seeing as how you're so concerned for the safety of people here in this market. How you'd practically be the poster child for community engagement and tolerance."
"I... fine." He was clearly about ready to spit blood.
"Why don't you give her a free pastry. For her sister. And throw in a sandwich for me, and we'll call this even?" The Captain slipped a hand into his coat, retrieving a few bars, and pushing them over the top of the counter. "Ham and mustard for me. Seeded bread if you have it. Heavy on the mustard."
Saidhe was trying so very hard not to giggle at the vendor's discomfort, and now the danger had passed, she was feeling a little giddy from the rush and lull. She reholstered her side-arm, and took the opportunity to scan around. No one would meet her eye, except she thought she saw a fellow Hleen, then the other woman was gone. When she'd stowed the food in the bag and thanked the vendor, she gave her apologies to the Captain and went the way she'd seen another of her kind.
***
"It's not safe for you, here," the younger woman with the faded lilac eyes told her. She had barely any decorations on her head, a sign of her extreme youth. "You need to stay in the Red Zone if you want to be safe. Everywhere else is... bad."
"You're here," Saidhe pointed out, folding her arms across her chest. "Why are you in a place that's supposedly dangerous?"
"Have to. Have to... warn people. It's my job."
"So you skitter around the other zones, telling Hleen to stay out? Who's paying you for that service, the Humans?"
The woman shook her head fiercely. "The Chief of the Station. Reckons the word won't get around with other species. I mostly get left alone, if I keep my nose down and I pass messages on. Sorry I didn't get here in time. Had to make sure the other visitor went right."
"My sister? Is she okay?"
"She went straight to Red. Told her to stay that way, send the Roq for what she wanted. She was worried and told me to come find you."
"Sounds like Biann alright... you said the Chief gave you this job? Isn't it his position to ensure the safety of all the residents and visitors to the station?" Even a dive like this was supposed to have some modicum of governance.
"Yes. He... he believes in what they're saying. He believes that--"
"I thought you'd got the message back there," came the looming voice behind them. "Your kind ain't welcome here."
"Is it illegal for me to be in this zone?" Saidhe asked, turning back to the Roq who was glaring at her head fit to burn holes through it.
"Not 'illegal'. Ill-advised."
"Then I will take your advice, thank you, and make up my own mind. If you--" Saidhe turned, but the other Hleen had already gone. "...hmm."
"She knows what's good for her. If you did, you'd listen, too. Not everyone will be as nice as me."
"Why do you hate my people so much?"
"You really need to know?"
"If I'm being chased from a food-hawker, then yes. I think I deserve to know. I've never hurt anyone here, nor would I want to. Why would you discriminate against a whole species?"
"Your folk have been grinding the supplies to a halt. Judging in favour of Hleen interests. Keeping yourselves to yourselves. Nice little empire you got going for you. No wonder you like to wear the cuffs."
"But Judges are impartial..."
"Try telling that to the local circuit Judges. Ain't been a single one ruled in favour of a non-Helios in months. No one can make any money without being taxed through the maw. If you're not local, maybe you ain't in on it... but sure as air is air, the minute you went in front of the bench, they'd rule you were crowned Princess, and make us all tithe our profits to you."
"I see. Thank you for letting me know. I will take this information seriously. You may not believe me, but I will."
"Right. But do it elsewhere. If'n I get seen talking to you too long, I'll be suspect a
s a sympathiser."
"Would it help you if you yelled loudly at me as I left?"
That made the Roq frown. "Why's you offering?"
"Because you were helpful, and I would not want to see you discriminated against like I have been. Please: insult me. I will not be offended."
"...right."
"Do it," she said.
So he launched a torrent of abuse at her, and she scurried back towards the Messenger.
***
Chapter Six - Mission: Excommunication
"You certain about this?" the Captain asked as Saidhe flew them towards the capital planet of the system, the only one which was habitable outside of the purpose-built enclosed population 'centres' or terra-formed micro-colonies: Lineon.
"As certain as I can be. Something about the way the Ur-system is being run here just doesn't sit right with me." The Judge was dressed in his full, formal regalia which was trimmed on all seams with the embroidered satin that marked him as a senior member of interplanetary law-enforcement. "When I put in a formal request with the local Enforcer unit, I felt very much that I was being given a party line."
"That's all the Ur ever does, Peters."
Not many people could - or would - criticise the Ur in front of one of the Judiciary. Even fewer would use the Judge's surname alone when speaking to him. He seemed neither surprised nor offended by either, coming from Captain Vadim.
"Even so, I'm honour-bound to investigate," he replied.
"I've never been treated with such open... hatred," Saidhe said, as her hands flew over the console, never once turning to the men behind her.
"Nor should you - or anyone - be," Peters told her.
"I know. But I... I guess I never really realised how bad the Roq and Sianar have it, when they bump into one another. Amongst my own people, even my... shortcomings only meant teasing and predictions that I'd not marry well. Never open threats on my safety. Kre and Loap must have the patience of monks to not snap under it."
"If oppression is all you've ever known, you get a thicker skin," Vadim said, waving it off. "Not that it's right. Just... that you don't know any different."
"I'm just glad Biann avoided the worst of it. They might have thought she was an easier target than me, if they found her."
Peters laughed. "That's where they'd be wrong. I've seen her strip paint from a hull with that tongue of hers. If anyone wanted to try to make her life a misery, they'd pretty soon regret it."
"Messenger, you are cleared to land," came a tinny voice over the comms system. "Proceed to dock M-47."
"Understood," Saidhe broadcast, her attention straight back to her controls.
***
[Sianor: I find it really interesting, the social tension thing.]
[Ashroe: It's a good place to discuss the wider issue of prejudice and stigma, without it being offensive to existing groups.]
[Sianor: Yes, and without becoming dated. I mean, all these 'Russians are the bad guys' things over here, or, I guess the Germans for you guys?]
[Ashroe: Germans, French, Scouse... you'd laugh, but even though the UK is smaller than many of your states, we have just as much regional differences between our counties as you do across state-lines.]
[Sianor: Exactly! No matter the size of the area, there will always be invisible lines drawn up.]
[Ashroe: Do you mind picking up the Ur bit? I did have a bit of a headcanon for it, but when I read your backstory one-shot, it totally blew all my headcanons out the window. You sure you haven't worked for the law enforcement or local government before?]
[Sianor: Perfectly sure :) My uncle was a cop, though, but he retired a while back. I guess I picked up a lot from him without knowing it. Or maybe from watching TV.]
[Ashroe: Plus, I think the Ur-system mimics the American justice system more than ours, with the state/federal thing. We have civil and criminal, but it's not really the same thing. And even though we drown in your popular media - like this! - I always feel a bit self-conscious getting my details right. So you could find yourself being my wiki for Americanisations, you know.]
[Sianor: Sure! I'm jealous in a way, because you get to see how we live in a way we don't much see about you guys. But of course, I'll do it. I have it all mapped out in my head. The Ur-heirarchy and layout just came to me one day in the shower.]
[Ashroe: The best ideas usually do.]
[Sianor: It's weird.]
[Ashroe: I think it's because there's no real distraction. No websites just a click away, or messages on your phone. Same with driving, but then you also have to keep an eye out for other road users.]
[Sianor: I can't drive, and when I'm a passenger I normally feel a bit nauseous, or otherwise I think it would help me think, too!]
[Ashroe: That's a pity. When the roads are clear, the mindless physicality of changing gear and reading the road ahead is very soothing.]
[Sianor: Maybe one day.]
[Ashroe: Of course, I do feel a bit worried when I don't have a pen and paper at hand to write things down. And both driving and showering are rather... unconducive to jotting stuff down.]
[Sianor: Do you really make handwritten notes?]
[Ashroe: You're going to tell me all your notes are electronic, now, aren't you? And make me feel ancient?]
[Sianor: You use technology too!]
[Ashroe: Yes, but... I like the tactility of it. My handwriting is absolutely dire, but I like to have implements around in case I forget a great idea. In practice, I normally just email myself thoughts when I get around to it.]
[Sianor: So the book is a safety blanket?]
[Ashroe: Stop psycho-analysing me ;)]
[Sianor: Stop making it easy!]
***
"Thank you for bringing Judge Peters to us," the High Judge said, her heavily-decorated head lowering only marginally. Her headscarf was the same deep, crimson satin that trimmed her robes, and the heavy slide of many bows around her shoulders indicated her seniority. "We appreciate you bringing justice to the lay people in the outlying areas. Without such small operations like yours, there would be a longer delay for Ur-penance."
The Captain of the Messenger smiled, but it was a smile that only curled his lips away from his teeth and did not reach down to his chest, or up to his eyes. "Even the small folk deserve the long arm of the law. And if you need to ask for our help once in a while... well."
Vadim did not like her. He did not like her one bit. Something about her air set his teeth on edge, and made his palm itchy for his sidearm. It wasn't even the anti-provincial attitude, because he was used to encountering that wherever he went. It was something much deeper, and much more primal. He couldn't put his finger on it, but if he did he was sure it would smart.
"Most of our members either travel with larger ships, or take their own vessel," she went on, her long legs stepping slow, but wide. She didn't openly react to his minor jibe. "Perhaps Peters prefers the company. Company that can take him where... alone he might not reach."
"Not sure that I understand your reasoning," he said, though he understood all too well that she was borderline calling him a criminal. Typical for the Ur. Just because their jurisdiction crossed galaxies, they thought they were better than everyone else. And they also thought that the only reason some people weren't fined or in prison was that they hadn't been found out yet. The concept of 'innocence' seemed as alien to them as the Whales' reasoning was to the rest of the universe.
They walked around the powder-blue Tzilian marble court building, passing countless friezes depicting the images of justice from each of the Ur-ruled communities. There was the three-headed Sianar with teeth longer than a man's arm. One mouth closed around a heart ripped from a transgressor; one licking the face of an innocent, injured party; the third open and ready to pass judgement on the on-looker. The Roq motif was of an official with two baskets: one holding tallies marked guilty, the other marked innocent. The Kior-Dhalia was a giant fluted instrument, which played itself and whose notes would answer
with the judgement, as the elfin creatures below looked up to hear. The Hleen version was the deity of answers of all kinds, who held in one clenched fist the bow-strings she'd plucked, which would determine the fate of the accused or appellant. The latest addition was the Human one, which was the blindfolded lady Justice with the scales held aloft.
Vadim knew all the pictures perfectly. He also knew the name of each of the idols or figures, and he could recite the oath each Enforcer would say when he or she swore to uphold the truth of all of them.
He did not say this. It had been a long time since he had said all this.
"You have a varied crew compliment," the High Judge Cubbus said, her eyes slanting sideways on at him. "An unusually varied crew compliment. Roq and Sianar?"
"Works for us," Vadim shrugged. Mostly. Mostly worked for them. "Hleen too. Can't forget them."