Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  “That is why we called you up here. We require your assistance.”

  “You want me to help you?”

  “Yes. Our mission is to learn and observe and interact with the others to understand them better, and we can hardly do that effectively when they are all terrified of us.”

  “But why me?”

  “Three reasons. Firstly, because you have only been here a few weeks and already you have made friends with some of your classmates.”

  “I wouldn’t say friends. They just hate me slightly less than the others.”

  “But they will at least speak to you, whereas we have been here for months, and no one will speak to us, so you are obviously more successful, albeit only slightly.”

  “So, you want me to... teach you how to make friends?”

  “Yes.”

  Gerald swayed back, as if he might pass out. “Wow, what a head-trip! And here I thought you were calling me up here to eat my soul. Just wait till the neighbors back home hear about this. A demon wants me to teach her how to make friends.”

  “A what?”

  “Nothing. It’s just... surely there must be someone better suited.”

  “Yes, a great many. In truth, you are not our ideal choice for this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “However you are currently the only student who will talk to us, which is the second reason.”

  “Lucky me. So, what is the third?”

  Trahzi looked away. “That reason we will keep to ourselves for now.”

  * * *

  From the mezzanine of the Eligiya building, Cha’Rolette and Jonarl squared off with one another, while Thuquan looked on through a powerful viewfinder, watching Gerald and Trahzi as they spoke on the roof.

  Jonarl stepped forward and punched with all his strength, his arm stretching out to three times its normal length, but Cha’Rolette ducked under it, then struck up with an invisible wall, deflecting the shot up into the ceiling. At the same time an invisible foot swept Jonarl’s lead leg out from under him, sending him spinning to the ground. Using the momentum to his advantage, Jonarl landed on one hand and spun like a Frisbee, stretching and lashing out with his other three limbs as he spun. Cha’Rolette blocked both feet and his fist with a barrier, then summoned a blast of invisible energy which crashed down from above, threatening to crush him. Jonarl rolled out of the way, the force cracking the marble floor where he had been. He sommersaulted to his feet, but he was too late. Cha’Rolette was already behind him, and struck him with a blast that threw him into the wall. The sensor on his training suit flickered red, registering the hit.

  What are they doing now? she asked, dropping into a protective stance, ready for the next attack.

  “They’re just talking,” Thuquan reported.

  If anything changes, you let me know.

  Jonarl pulled himself out of the crater in the wall and stretched his arm, resetting the broken bones. It only took seconds for them to mend completely. “You know, I got to hand it to you, Duchess. By holding your training here it lets you keep an eye on Dyson without breaking your father’s commands.”

  She smiled confidently. The women of the Ssykes family are known for their ability to multitask.

  Jonarl threw out his arms and his twelve fingers stretched out long, then arced back in, coming at her from all directions. She blocked two with a barrier while cartwheeling forward, dodging four more.

  How about now? she asked as she leapt up, allowing two more to pass harmlessly beneath her.

  “They’re still just talking,” Thuquan reported.

  Cha’Rolette blocked two more from behind with a barrier, then slammed two invisible hands together, catching the remaining four in the air, then twisted them over and slamming them into the ground, yanking Jonarl off his feet and cracking him down onto his side.

  “Wait, I think he just made her smile.”

  Cha’Rolette turned her head in panic. Wait, what?

  Jonarl stretched his leg out, catching her with a wicked kick to the stomach. Her eyes bulged with pain as she fell to her knees, clutching her midsection.

  The sensor on her training suit flickered red, registering the hit.

  It took her a few moments to catch her breath again. She coughed painfully a couple of times, then forced herself to stand up again on wobbly knees. Wow, Jonarl, she said at last. I think that’s the first time you’ve ever landed a hit on me.

  “I can hold back in the future if you’d prefer.”

  She frowned and dusted herself off. If you did that, I’d have you fired on the spot. I don’t want worthless yes-men. I want a staff filled with skilled and capable people who can take initiative and make good decisions when they need to. The Ssykes family didn’t get to where it is by filling its ranks with simpering idiots capable of only swallowing orders. If you want to keep your job you hit me with everything you have every time, you understand?

  “Yes, Duchess.”

  Now stand aside Thuquan, I want to see what’s happening for myself.

  An invisible hand shoved the bodyguard out of the way while she looked into the viewfinder anxiously.

  * * *

  Gerald led Trahzi into the multipurpose hall. An oval jogging track made of light hung in the air above them, a horizontal racetrack ringed the belt line, where students recreated by surfing along the wall on metallic boards in complete disregard of gravity. Down below sat a segmented swimming pool lined with hoops and fountains.

  All through the center of the room floated tables and chairs where various groups sat and chatted with one another, playing holo-games and watching videos from the net.

  “Okay,” Gerald began. “We’ll start off by making friends with some of the guys.”

  “Why? Are females more difficult?”

  “Oh, infinitely so. Now, the first thing you need to understand is that people do not regard everyone else with the same levels of affection. I mean, they say they do, but they don’t. They create sub-groups based on specific criteria, and they join those groups to the exclusion of others. You’ll see it manifest with a lot of ‘us’ and ‘them’ kind of thinking.”

  Trahzi thought hard on this. “That seems very inefficient. The quarrels between groups would weaken the whole.”

  “Oh it is! It harkens back to basic tribal instincts, but you need to understand it if you are to join a group.”

  Gerald caught some movement out of the cover of his eye. He looked up and saw Ilrica nonchalantly hanging from the ceiling with two toes, watching them as she swung lazily back and forth like a bat.

  “Ilrica, what are you doing up there?” Gerald asked irritably.

  She shrugged. “Hey, if you are going to ignore my advice, the least I can do is enjoy the show.” She took out a kamanchhi and began chewing on it. “This should be hilarious.”

  “What should be?” Trahzi asked.

  “Ignore her, just focus on the task at hand.”

  Trahzi nodded. “So, what are the criteria for these social groups?”

  “Well, that is why men are easier. All male friendships are based on common interests and activities. That group over there is the Trategim club; they value skill and knowledge of the game. That group over there is all Kuboi players; they value ability and enthusiasm about the sport.”

  She placed the back of her hand onto her curvaceous hip. “So, if we demonstrate skill in that area, they will accept us into their group?”

  “Now you got it.” He moved to slap her on the shoulder with his bandaged hand, but thought better of it.

  Trahzi nodded. “We shall begin immediately.”

  And with that she strode off towards the men.

  “No, wait,” Gerald called out, but it was too late.

  The three men nearly jumped out of their skins when she walked up to them.

  “Explain this game to us,” she ordered.

  The men look at each other nervously. Cleyselle gripped the hook with his grey hands. “Well, it’s simple, really,”
he began, as the area beyond them reshaped itself into a field with multiple moving targets. “The secir fires the marble, called a testoh, which you redirect using this hook, called a sotzir.” He tapped a switch and the silver hook came to life, blue energy sweeping along its curvature like a miniature water slide. “Once the first testoh is fired, you get points for your team by hitting as many of the targets as you can before the secir catches up to the testoh and brings it back to the plate.”

  Trahzi nodded. “That is exceedingly simple.”

  “Yes, but...”

  Trahzi snatched up the sotzir, and stood on the plate before the field.

  Aryc and S’Meskle looked like they might run away, but Gerald stepped in between them and her. “Hey, I know she’s a little acerbic...”

  “A little?” S’Meskle clattered his shell.

  “...okay a lot...”

  “She’s got all the feminine delicacy of sandpaper,” Aryc said distantly.

  “...covered in glass...” Cleyselle added.

  “...tipped with acid.” S’Meskle concluded.

  “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

  “Why are all of you speaking? Shoot the marble!” Trahzi commanded.

  Gerald motioned for her to be patient. “...the whole point of this school is to broaden your horizons. Right? I mean, come on, think of what the people back home will say when you tell them you played a friendly game of Kuboi with a Trahzi.”

  The three men looked at each other doubtfully.

  “Come on, you wimps,” Ilrica taunted from above. “What’s the worst that could happen? Right?”

  Reluctantly, Cleyselle manned the launcher, while the other two took positions with hooks of their own in the outfield.

  Cleyselle wiped his grey brow and looked at Gerald hesitantly.

  “Go on,” Gerald encouraged.

  Cleyselle pulled the trigger and the launcher whirred to life. This was no lazy pitching machine, as Gerald had expected. It fired a volley of testohs like a machine gun. Like rifle rounds they flew, and Trahzi reacted to each one, placing her sotzir so that the marble slid in one side then out the other at the trajectory of her choosing. Each one she caught and fired back out, moving so fast that to Gerald she seemed little more than a blur.

  What Gerald didn’t see was Trahzi launch the first testoh directly at Cleylselle. With a look of confidence on his face, he brought his sotzir up to catch it, but at the last possible moment, the marble disappeared in a burst of flame, then reappeared a foot higher, striking him squarely in the forehead. His head had only barely begun to snap back from the impact when the second testoh was shot out by her, catching him in the arm with a sickening crunch and spinning him around. The third shot disappeared in a flash of flame, then reappeared downfield, aimed right at Aryc, who managed to instinctively curl up into an armored ball just as it struck him. S’Meskle’s one large eye grew wide as he saw what was happening, and he managed to snap his shell shut just as three testohs slammed into him, ricocheting off.

  As Cleylselle fell, Trahzi aimed shot after shot into the targets on the field, striking each one in turn. For good measure, she aimed every third shot at either Aryc or S’Meskle, letting them know with a patter against their armored forms what would happen if they lowered their defenses. Finally, just as Gerald was half way through having his thought, the final marble struck a cracked target and Cleylselle hit the ground.

  If Gerald had time to think, he would have realized that it would only make sense that any game challenging to these aliens would be far beyond anything a human could ever do, but the game moved so fast that even that thought itself had only half formed in his mind by the time it was over. The three men were lying injured on the field, and the targets were hit so many times many of them had cracked.

  Gerald couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Aryc uncoiled and gripped his shoulder. S’Meskle rubbed a crack in his shell. Despite their armor, she had managed to hit them in the same exact spot dozens of times.

  Ilrica laughed and applauded. “Way to hustle guys! Wooo! Good show.”

  “Trahzi, what are you doing?” Gerald asked. “I mean, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to go down.”

  Trahzi blinked in confusion. “The goal is to score as many points as you can before the sotzir brings the first testoh to the plate. By incapacitating the other players, I can score as many points as there are marbles in the hopper, which is apparently limited to only three-hundred.”

  Cleylselle moaned as he held his arm. His uniform flashed red, indicated that medical personnel were being summoned for him.

  “Well... yes, but you’re hurting them.”

  Trahzi looked around. “We don’t understand.”

  “How can you not understand pain?” Cleylselle barked.

  “We understand pain; we just do not understand your preoccupation with such an insignificant amount of pain.”

  “What I’m feeling right now is not insignificant!”

  Trahzi turned to look at the grey alien, her eyes flashing. “You are going to spend the next ten years alone. Your search for a mate and companion will end only in failure. Compared to that pain, this broken bone should be as nothing to you.”

  “Wait, what?” Cleylselle asked, his eyes growing wide.

  Gerald tried to intervene. “Um, okay Trahzi, first of all, we perceive time a bit more linearly than you seem to, so pain in the present is much more acute than pain in the past or future.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and secondly, you need to be more gentle with people’s feelings. We have a saying back where I come from, all right? You can attract more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.”

  Trahzi frowned. “Why would you want to attract flies?”

  “That’s not the point...”

  Ilrica took another bite of kamanchhi. “You know what attracts more flies than either honey or vinegar?”

  “What does?” Trahzi asked.

  “Manure.”

  Gerald looked at Ilrica sternly, then returned his attention to Trahzi. “The point is, you need to say things in a way that won’t hurt people’s feelings so much.”

  Trahzi’s black eyebrows came up in understanding. “Ah, you mean lie?”

  “No... well, yes.”

  Trahzi turned back to Cleylselle. “We are sorry for what we said earlier. You will have a deeply fulfilling life filled with money, beautiful females, and political achievement. You will not die alone in a random hovercar accident ten years from now.”

  “What?” Cleylselle squeaked in horror, his face turning white.

  Trahzi turned back to Gerald. “There, was that better?”

  The three men got up and their feet and ran away, tossing their sotzirs as they went. Trahzi held out her hand, bidding them to stop.

  “We do not understand,” she yelled. “We scored so many points. Why do you not like us?”

  The doors at the far end of the multi-purpose room slammed shut. Already other students were gathering to see what had happened. Sounds of hushed voices and germinating rumors filled the room.

  Ilrica dropped down from the ceiling and landed amongst the crowd, light as a feather. “I guess that means the other team forfeited. You win by default, Trahzi.”

  Trahzi turned back to Gerald, her eyes on fire. “You are a very poor instructor.”

  Gerald’s muscular arms fell down. “You’re right. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. You need professional help. Like, a trained expert. There must be someone else we can get to...”

  “No,” she insisted. “We did not separate this body to live alone amongst the others only to have our mission fail.”

  He looked up. “So wait, this is the first time any of you have physically separated yourselves from the others?

  “Yes. Up until now we have always moved from place to place as a group. This body is the first to live alone.”

  “Do you know what that will do? Like, what wi
ll happen?”

  “Since it has never been tried before, we cannot be sure what will happen. However, the risk seems acceptable compared to what we stand to gain.”

  “And what is that?”

  She tiled her head, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Peace. If there is to be a standing peace between us and the others, we must first learn to understand you. That is why we are here.”

  Gerald found his resolve renewed. “Peace is... a worthy cause.”

  He took a moment to clear his thinking, and then he smiled. “Okay, we’ll keep trying.”

  She smiled as well. It caught him a little off guard. Her smile was... surprisingly beautiful. There was no other way to say it. She was terrifying in nearly every way he could conceive, but her smile... wasn’t.

  “We should have you smile more,” he suggested.

  It was then that one of the students stepped out from the crowd and tucked his large elephant-like ears over his shoulders.

  “Hey demon,” Tomar spat. “What the frakk did you just do to my classmates?”

  “We are trying to make friends with them,” Trahzi explained.

  “Pffft, friends? We could never be friends with a Trahzi.”

  Several of the students chimed in likewise.

  “Why?” Trahzi asked curiously. It was hard for Gerald to tell through the translator, but it didn’t seem like she was being sarcastic. She sincerely didn’t seem to understand.

  Tomar scoffed. “Why? Do you know how many people you killed during the war?”

  “Yes, nine-hundred twenty four trillion, three-hundred seventy six billion, seven-hundred eighty eight million, one-hundred fifteen thousand, five-hundred and eleven.”

  A wave of outrage passed through the crowd.

  “It sickens me that you can spout off a number like that so casually,” Tomar yelled. “We all lost family during the war. I lost a brother and three uncles. Do you have any idea how much pain you caused?”

  “We were unaware that we were doing any harm.”

  Tomar’s jaw dropped open. “How is that possible? How could you not understand?”

  “At that time, we assumed that the other races were like us. We did not understand that each individual had their own mind and will.”