Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  “Oh my bosh, you are the cutest girlfriend ever!” Tomar praised, hugging her from the side. “When you are all shy like that I just can’t stand it.”

  Trajey kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll reward you properly for that later.” She turned to Trahzi. “Did you feel that way when Gerald touched you?”

  Trahzi folded her arms and thought. “The sensation was similar to what you describe, but there must be some other explanation. For example...”

  She trailed off, looking a little angry.

  “What is it?”

  She seemed reluctant to explain. “Yesterday when another girl was trying to spend time with Gerald, it... irritated us greatly.”

  “How greatly?” Tomar inquired.

  “We banished her to the shadow realm.”

  Tomar and Trajey looked at each other knowingly.

  “What?” Trahzi asked.

  “She’s got it bad,” Tomar said.

  “What? What do we have?”

  Trajey tried to think of the most delicate way to put it, but couldn’t really think of anything, so she just said it. “Trahzi, you’re jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Yes, your heart has claimed Dyson, and you don’t want anyone else to have him.”

  Trahzi stepped back. “No, that is not possible. We do not possess the capacity for that emotion.”

  “Clearly you do.”

  She touched her face in concern. Her cheeks were flush. “There must be some other explanation. Perhaps this is a lingering effect of the Vlukkia attack.”

  Trajey smiled. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Trahzi. You like him, you want to have him all to yourself. It’s perfectly natural. I felt the same way every time I saw Tomar go up and try to court the Duchess.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Tomar said, tugging on his ear.

  “No...” Trahzi said, jerking her body to one side. “This is not possible. We were supposed to learn about love, to understand it, not experience it.” She clenched her fist and it ignited. “This is impossible.”

  Trajey took Tomar by the hand. “You can’t control who you fall in love with...”

  Trahzi punched the tree they were under. It tore up from the roots and fell over, bursting into flame. “Do not say that. We do not like him!”

  * * *

  “Twelve hundred hours, personal grooming and appearance.”

  Gwof Wonthreen was beaming with pride as he unfolded his workstation. “You’re going to love this Master Dyson. I pulled an all-nighter on this one.”

  Gerald was concerned. “What did you do?”

  “I redesigned your Soeckian Cassock, gave it a punch up.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes. May I present the new Monk Spring Selection!”

  Holographic models appeared, showing off the redesigned clothes in a variety of cheesecake poses.

  “This year the floor-length look is out. What’s in? Showing off those muscular legs of your in this short-skirted version that shows a lot of leg and a lot of fun.”

  Gerald folded his arms. “A miniskirt?”

  “Yeah, you know, a short manly warrior skirt, like the Spartans used to wear. That’s from your Eeeyarth history, you know, the Spartans?”

  “Yeah, I’m not wearing that.”

  “Hmm. Shame.” He clicked the next model forward. “Next we have a fun and flirty design, with the midriff exposed to show off those sexy abs of yours.”

  “I don’t really think that... wait, my abs are sexy?”

  “Psht, honey if I was a woman and not married, I’d date you in a heartbeat. One could grate cheese on your abs.”

  Gerald touched his muscular midsection. He had never considered his body attractive before. It was just a utilitarian thing, a tool to get work done, not an object of admiration.

  “Well, thank you, but I need to be covered ankle to wrist, except when I’m working in the field.”

  Gwof waved it off. “You won’t discourage me. I love a good challenge.” He brought forth the next model.

  “Now, this last one is the basic cassock design, but with a sense of fun. Just a flip of the switch and...”

  The cassock began to glow brightly, with neon symbols dancing all over its surface.

  “Why bother with that gauche little ear translator you wear, this model has all the translation software built right into the fabric. Every time you speak, the robes automatically translate into written standard, stollick, burganese, and kairo, and about a hundred others that I can’t even begin to pronounce.”

  He flipped through the various language settings, which played out over the fabric like a screen.

  Gerald was impressed. “You know what, that is actually pretty useful. Well done.”

  Gwof bowed dramatically. “If I could not do at least this much, what kind of servant of the Ssykes family would I be?”

  “...However, Ga’aval law requires me to wear very simple fabrics, and I’m sure this would not qualify.”

  “What if it was lined with raw wool on the inside?” Gwof asked, undaunted.

  Gerald lifted up his finger, but then thought better on it. “You know, I’ll have to ask. So long as only the raw wool touches my skin, that might be acceptable.”

  “Yay, I just love loopholes.”

  * * *

  Zurra and Trahzi stood before Gerald’s door, trying to hide their contempt for one another.

  “You heard with the director said, right?” Zurra asked, twisting the Tupperware in her hands.

  “Yes, we heard him.”

  “If you banish me to the shadow realm again you’re going to be expelled.”

  “Yes, we know.”

  Zurra tapped her foot over and over again. “You know you can’t just go banishing people to alternate dimensions, it’s not right.”

  “Yes, we understand.”

  Zurra narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “You still haven’t apologized.”

  “We have no plans to.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean, I’m not going to be there for the whole ceremony?” Gerald yelled.

  “You will be there for the ribbon cutting, of course,” Enri explained. “But after that, I’m afraid you have far too many interviews to spend any time with the children.”

  “Spending time with the children is the whole point!”

  “Forgive me, sir, but you signed a contract. Doing your job is the whole point.”

  There was a chime at the door. “I must answer the door. We can discuss this further after your etiquette lessons.”

  “Ugh!”

  Enri slid the door open, Trahzi pushed her way past him without so much as a greeting.

  “Oh, hi Trahzi, what’ up?” Gerald asked.

  She stepped up to him and thrust out her elbow. “We want you to touch us here.”

  Zurra rolled over and took on her human form. “Ewww, why do you want him to touch you there?”

  Gerald furrowed his brow. “Trahzi, you can’t start a conversation like that. We’ve talked about this, remember? You have to give me a context.”

  Trahzi’s eyes flashed. “No, we are tired of explaining ourselves. The explanations you others require are a waste of time.”

  “Calm down, Trahzi, you asked me to help you.”

  Trahzi’s eyes lit on fire. “Yes, and you betrayed us. Just like the ArchTyrant, you took advantage of our naïveté. You manipulated us to take control of us.”

  Zurra set down Gerald’s lunch on his table. “She seems upset.”

  “Quiet Zurra. Don’t antagonize the situation.”

  “You’re one to talk. You’ve got an angry demon in your bedroom.”

  Gerald’s staff all looked on. Gwof in particular seemed to be enjoying the drama unfold. The publicity of this made Gerald feel self-conscious, but he pushed past it. “Look, Trahzi, I don’t know what is going on here, but you need to know that I have always been completely honest with you.”

  Trahzi�
�s fingernails grew long into claws. “Yes, we see now, that is how you operate, isn’t it? You hide behind a smile and an offer of friendship; you use sincerity and honesty to bring our guard down, to gain power over us.”

  “You asked me to help you.”

  Trahzi pointed a black claw at him. “Only because you made it seem like you could. The Vlukkia attack was probably your fault. You used it defraud our trust!”

  Zurra laughed. “Would you listen to yourself? And people call me the crazy one.”

  “Not now Zurra,” Gerald said through clenched teeth.

  Trahzi began pacing back and forth, like a caged tiger as she talked, her black eyes fixed on him.

  “We have no more need of your lessons. We don’t want to see you anymore! We don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  Zurra clapped her hands. “Yay, more for me, then.”

  “Shut up, Zuri,” Gerald grunted.

  Trahzi’s hands burst into flame. “We should have killed you when we had the chance.”

  “Look, Trahzi, we can talk about this, I want to talk about this, but before we can, we need to help you calm down. You are losing control.”

  The red fire spread up her forearms, burning off the sleeves of her uniform. “Yes, and it is your fault. We have been trying to meditate all night, but nothing is getting better. We can’t calm down. All we can think about is you. All we can see is your face. Every time we think about being with you, our head starts to go blank, and our heart races.”

  Gerald looked around. His staff was getting scared. “Please, Trahzi,” he said, grabbing her shoulder. “Look around, you are frightening everybody. Remember what you said to me? You can’t complete your mission if they are all terrified of you.”

  She blushed from head to toe at his touch. Her breathing raced, her eyes widened, steam rose up off of her skin.

  “Don’t touch us!” She yelled, flame spreading across her shoulders and rising up around her like a cowl. She reached up and clutched her chest. “There, you see? How are you doing this? Psychic enslavement? Mental reprogramming? Hypnotic suggestion? How?”

  Cadbury ran off in terror into the hallway as Trahzi’s feet were bathed in fire, incinerating her shoes. “You lied to us, Gerald Dyson. You told us that you would teach us about love, but all you are doing is giving yourself power over us. Power over our thoughts, our feelings. You said that love is a source of strength, but that was a lie. It is a source of control!”

  “We did terrible things when he controlled us. Unforgivable things. We are not going to be controlled by another again! Do you hear us? Not again!”

  Gerald’s staff began working their way towards the exit, hugging the walls. The floor beneath Trahzi glowed red hot. The rest of her uniform caught fire and began peeling off of her.

  Gerald stood before her, unafraid. “Look, Trahzi, I understand that you fear control. Believe me, I know it better than most. I’ve dedicated my life to living free of control...”

  Trahzi’s eyes grew a little less wild. His words were getting through to her, but then Zurra threw her head back and laughed.

  “Oh, this is just too funny,” she mocked. “The all-powerful demon is crushing on a human.”

  Trahzi’s fire burned hotter. Her body was now hidden behind a coat of blue flame. Trahzi snarled at Zurra. “We did not ask for your opinion.”

  Zurra strolled nonchalantly over to Gerald and hugged him from behind. “Fine then, you’ve said your peace. Gerald will never talk to you or come near you again. Now go.”

  Trahzi’s teeth grew into long fangs. “Stop that.”

  Zurra wrapped her arms around Gerald’s waist. “Stop what?”

  Black talons grew out along Trahzi’s forearms, their razor-sharp edges flickering in the firelight. “Stop touching him.”

  Gerald tried to protest, but Zurra stretched an arm around his mouth.

  “Why not? He’s my bride, after all.”

  The molten floor beneath Trahzi’s feet buckled. “Don’t say that!”

  Even as Gerald struggled, Zurra coiled her legs around his like a python. “Why not, it’s true... or do you want him for yourself?”

  More blade-like talons sprouted out from her back, arcing down behind her like a cloak of knives. Gerald’s staff simpered at her terrifying form. “No! We do not want him!”

  “Oh, I see. So, when I touch him like this, that doesn’t bother you?” Despite his resistance, Zurra placed a delicate kiss on Gerald’s neck. “This isn’t the first time I’ve kissed him, you know?”

  Trahzi’s flame burned white hot. “Get off of him!”

  “Why? I thought you said you didn’t like him.”

  Trahzi stamped her foot. “We don’t!”

  “Then why are you following him around all the time? Why do you make him lunch every day? Why do you try and trick him into signing a marriage contract?”

  Gerald managed to reach up and free his mouth. “Those are things you do!”

  Trahzi’s eyes darted around wildly. Everyone was looking at her. Everyone could see. The humiliation only fueled her anger further. Gerald’s bed and table caught fire from the heat.

  “Stop it, Zuri, you’re making it worse,” Gerald shouted.

  “It’s her fault! This is payback for banishing me.”

  Zurra turned angrily to Trahzi. She knew exactly what to say. “Look at you, it’s pathetic. All the power in the galaxy, and you’re afraid of you own feelings.”

  Trahzi stepped back, her face pained and ashamed.

  Zurra smiled impishly and pressed harder. “You’re weak!”

  Trahzi’s face twisted into absolute outrage. She threw her head back and screamed. Her flame exploded out in a fireball, engulfing everyone and everything around her. Gerald’s staff ducked behind anything they could, their personal force fields kicking in at the last second, shunting the force of the blast. Zurra wrapped herself around Gerald, and then everything went white.

  * * *

  Inside his office, Director Nathers sipped nervously at the mist in his cup. He looked away from the clock for the first time in hours and noticed how empty his stores of spirits had become. Since Dyson had returned he had been drinking almost constantly.

  “Just a few more hours,” he said to himself anxiously. “Just a few more hours and then Dyson will be gone. Blast it Greer, can’t you speed things up?”

  His secretary walked in, her face full of panic. “Sir, there has just been an explosion in the men’s dorms.”

  Nathers dropped his cup. “W... what?”

  “The entire east wing was taken out.”

  Nather’s thumped his head on his desk. “Why me?”

  * * *

  E’Duwag Honrinar Ssykes smoothed back his short slicked ta’atu and templed his fingers before him. His office was beyond extravagant, designed to impress and intimidate in equal measure. But nothing was more daunting than his dark green eyes, which, even through the communications window, seemed to burn right through to the round-shouldered man on the other side. “Nano-mimetic gel is an extremely dangerous compound,” E’Duwag said coldly. “It is strictly controlled by Alliance military and not for sale at any price.”

  Before the man could respond, the window closed. E’Duwag leaned forward and coolly lit a cigar. He tapped a rune and the air came alive with an aetheric humm, ensuring that no recordings could be made.

  “There, that ought to do it,” he said, blowing some of the blue antiseptic smoke into the air. “Bury that conversation in the archives where some overzealous detective will find it only after a painstaking search, then handle the sale of the gel.”

  “Yes sir,” Thuquan said from where he stood by the entrance. “What about your daughter?”

  “Stop calling her that!” he said, growing angry. E’Duwag looked at the spinning holo-image on his desk of Cha’Rolette as a young child, her eyes wide and innocent.

  His face became a scowl, and he grabbed the projector and threw it into the waste bin.

>   “My daughter is dead,” he said, taking another long draw on his cigar.

  Thuquan shifted his weight. “Fine, but you should know that Cha’Rolette has done very good work setting up the paper trail for the ‘accident,’ I doubt even the Obsidian Council will realize that the gel was never in there.”

  “So, what do you want from me? We’ve spent millions on her private tutors, personal trainers, the highest quality crystronics. Of course we will see results after such a costly investment in her.”

  “It’s more than that, sir. She works twice as hard as she has to. She does it for you.”

  E’Duwag turned away, his face darkening. “I know. That is the problem.”

  * * *

  Gerald opened his eyes as the bandages were removed from his face.

  “Hey, welcome back to the land of the living,” Dr. Klatta greeted, blowing a puff of blue smoke into Gerald’s face.

  Gerald reached up fearfully. He remembered burning, his skin sizzling, then sloughing off in sickly charred chunks. When his bandaged hand touched his cheek, he found fresh skin where burnt flesh had been before. He could still feel the searing pain.

  “Yep, amazingly the skin grafts took, although there was some permanent nerve damage. After our last encounter, I wasn’t sure if anything would work on you. We had an office pool as to whether or not you would survive. I lost.”

  “My staff?”

  Dr. Klatta held up a scaly hand. “They’re fine, I sent them home already. Their personal fields protected them from the worst of the blast. You, on the other hand, are extremely fortunate. If that Zurinite hadn’t shielded you, you’d be a pile of ash on this table right now.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Dr. Klatta motioned over to a blue tank where Zurra floated inside. Her black skorched form slowly rose and fell like a scab inside of a lava-lamp, cracked burn marks crisscrossed across her form.

  “She’s lucky to be alive at all. Zurinites are particularly vulnerable to fire.”

  Gerald leaned back, relieved. He could still feel the flame on his arms and back. He reached up and coddled the freshly grafted skin on his wrist. It hurt, but he pushed past it. “I’m glad she is okay. It was her fault to begin with, but I’m glad she’s okay.”

  Dr. Klatta sat back and put his feet up on a jar, a human brain floating in it. “They’re sure to expel the demon after this, or at least find a way to get rid of her. That’s just how these things work.”