“If you attempt to read my thoughts, Issaguardian, you will be dead before you hit the ground,” the huntress warned.
Cha’Rolette set the tablet back down. I don’t have to. It’s perfectly obvious what you are doing. You are attempting to bring back the old Bertulf Empire.
“Yes,” the other Bertulf snarled, stepping forward. “We have been at peace too long. It is not natural. The children of Faelan were born to conquer, and so we are reasserting our rights over our hunting grounds.”
“Now, now,” Klona said, trying to insinuate himself. “What this treaty offers is completely legal. No sentients will be hunted on this world, only hanna beasts and the occasional trip bear, right Accalia?”
“For now,” she said, a long drip of saliva falling off her fang.
Klona looked mortified at her candor, but was wise enough to say nothing. “Ahem, as I was saying, this treaty is perfectly legal. If you object to it, you would be overstaying your authority as mediators. We must follow Alliance law, after all.”
It is legal.
Tumn took out a soaked handkerchief and wiped it futiley against his dripping forehead. “So, we’re just supposed to go back to living underneath their heels? What are we going to do?”
Cha’Rolette took a moment to stare down Klona. He acted brazen at first, but the longer she stared at him, the more he withered underneath her scrutiny. Finally, when his discomfort had reached a peak, she gave off a wry grin. I recommend you sign the treaty.
“What?” Tumn asked, looking like he was having a heart attack.
Once you sign it, you’ll be a de facto satellite state of the Bertulf. You can then immediately file an act of triveyance in the local sector court. You see, what this little man forgets is that the Bertulf are currently part of the Alliance as well, so Alliance law applies to them. As a satellite colony, the Bertulf will be automatically responsible for more than just your airspace patrol. You can sue for educational costs, water purification systems, housing and development, food replicators, clothing allowance, police, fire, and garbage disposal services.
She tapped the treaty where it lay on the altar.
This contract spells out exactly how much tribute you are to give to them, but it does not limit what services they provide in return. You can easily get a hundred times the value out of the Bertulf compared to what you are putting into it. If they refuse or are negligent, then Alliance military will be forced to intervene, which is what you originally wanted anyway.
Accalia looked betrayed. “Is this true?” she asked Klona.
The weasely little man ground his rodent-like teeth. “It would seem that the Alliance mediator knows the bylaws very, very well.”
Cha’Rolette smirked. As you said, we must follow Alliance law.
The Bertulf glared at Klona as Mayor Tumn happily added his thumbprint to the treaty. The tablet chimed in acceptance, then split itself into two copies for each delegation to take with them. Klona looked like a man sentenced to death.
“A thousand thanks to you,” Tumn said, reaching out to embrace her. “I will file the trivayance in the morning.”
Her ta’atu glowed and the sweaty man was held at arm’s length.
It was simple, she said as she flicked a ringlet over her shoulder. If I could not do at least this much, I would not be a Ssykes.
Klona stepped back. “A Ssykes?”
“We seem to have skipped the introductions,” Gerald said. “This is Cha’Rolette Honrinar Jillintor Ssykes.”
Klona and the Bertulf exchanged worried glances. “Why is a Ssykes here?” Accalia demanded. “Is he reneging on the deal?”
What deal?
“Nothing!” Klona shouted, scooping up the tablet. “Just a translation error. Pay it no mind.”
While Mayor Tumn gave Gerald a big sweaty bear hug, the girls watched the Bertulf delegation pack up their things and walk away.
“Well, that was fun,” Ilrica said, linking her hands behind her neck. “Always entertaining to see a hunter bested by petty legal loopholes. Maybe next time you meet, you can attack them with a really nasty form letter and some paperclips.”
“Actions speak louder than honor among thieves,” Zurra teased.
“My point is she only won because they condescended to play by her rules. In any real fight they would have killed her.”
Let me ask you something, Cha’Rolette asked, her eyes fixed on the Bertulf as they entered one of their wind tunnels and left the planet, dragging Klona kicking and screaming along with them. You are the only Bertulf I have ever seen with crystronics. Where did you have them implanted?
Ilrica thought for a second. “You know, I can’t really remember.”
Oh please.
She stuck out her tongue. “I must have been drunk when it happened.”
As Gerald finally freed himself from the overly-affectionate mayor, Zurra walked up in her child form and stretched out her neck so she could see Cha’Rolette eye to eye. “You know, when you use your powers for good instead of evil, you’re pretty impressive, Ssykes.”
Cha’Rolette was lost in thought. I’ve done nothing worthy of praise. All I did was give away four million credits worth of legal counsel for free. My father would be furious if he found out.
Gerald motioned to the impoverished conditions. “Yes, but look around. These people will benefit so much from the services they will now receive. You helped them in a very real way, and that is something to be proud of.”
Cha’Rolette allowed the praise to soak in. It’s hard for me to see if that way, but... thank you.
Zurra’s jaw stretched down and hit the ground between her feet. “No way!”
“Did she actually say thank you?” Ilrica asked, disbelieving. “Just what did you do to her, Dyson?”
Gerald held up his hands. “I haven’t done anything. This has always been who she is.”
Ilrica scoffed. “Pfft, whatever.”
Cha’Rolette’s eyebrows twitched.
Zurra rolled into a ball and chuckled. “Yeah, right. The Duchess I know probably bathes in children’s tears just to keep herself looking young.”
Cha’Rolette balled her fists. Stop talking about me like I’m some sort of monster! I do nice things all the time!
“Whatever.”
Gerald was surprised at how strongly she had reacted. Her whole body seemed to flush at his praise, and her eyes were a little dreamy. Then, he felt a little squeeze on his hand and looked down. Without realizing it, he had reached out and placed his hand on hers.
“What am I doing?” he thought.
Zurra glared at them jealously, then turned into her adult form and pulled him away from her. “Come on, Geri, let’s go and have some fun. You know, see the sights.”
Gerald shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know, there doesn’t seem to be a lot to do around here.”
“Here no, but outside of town I heard there is a gypsy caravan. That could be fun, they might even have an Oracle with them.”
Gerald seemed reluctant.
“Come on, variety is the spice of life that leads a horse to water,” Zurra said, tugging on his facemask.
“Wait, we just finished diplomatic negotiations. Don’t we have reports to file?”
“We already filed ours wirelessly,” Ilrica explained as she handed him a small tablet. “Since you can’t link, you’ll have to fill out your report by hand.”
Cha’Rolette gave off a faint girlish giggle, and held up her hand, placing it against her cheek as if she could still feel his warmth. You guys go ahead. I need to make some waves, see if I can find out anything about those drone ships. This whole thing is highly suspicious.
She floated away like a giddy little schoolgirl, even doing a little aerial somersault and a corkscrew. Ilrica and Zurra gritted their teeth when they saw it.
“Holy cow, there has to be like 500 pages to this thing,” Gerald said, scrolling through it.
Zurra leaned in close. “Or...”
“Or what?”
She squeezed his muscular arm. “Or I can fill your out for you, and we can use the extra time to go see the caravan.”
Gerald looked around at the dusty town. “I dunno, these people have it pretty rough. If I have extra time, I’d rather use it helping them. We aren’t scheduled to leave till at least tonight, we could get a nice soup line going.”
“What is it with you and soup?” Ilrica complained.
Zurra stretched her fingers around his massive bicep and tied them in a knot. “Look, I’m not going to fill out your paperwork if you are going to use the time making chowder.”
“Soup.”
“Whatever. Now, would you rather spend the rest of your day filling out boring, mundane paperwork, or go on a date with a lively and beautiful woman like myself?”
Gerald looked down at the tablet, then looked up into her large batting eyes. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?”
“Ohh! You are the worst bride ever! You went on dates with the other girls! Why not me?”
Ilrica saw her chance and stepped in. “Look, I’ll tell you the secret. You don’t ask Dyson on a date, you take him. Here, watch me do it.”
She reached out a glowing claw and tore through the air. Gray spilled out, covering everything, until the whole world was colorless except for Ilrica’s glowing green eyes. Gerald and Zurra stood there, frozen in place, as Ilrica stepped away from them and slipped down an alley.
“It took long enough,” Accalia said in the snarling Bertulf language. Unlike Ilrica, her entire body was in color.
“The Issaguardian is having me watched,” Ilrica explained, pointing her thumb back to the Ssykes man sitting atop the water tower with some sophisticated viewing equipment. He had been invisible before, but in this world of gray he was plainly noticeable. “I had to wait for a chance to accelerate that would have an alibi.” Ilrica reached into her bag and took out a large tablet and a silver flask.
Accalia accepted the tablet and opened it, revealing the secret contents within. Rows and rows of processed genetic samples. “This is the last of them?”
“Yes, and with the gel that should be everything.” Ilrica stood up proudly. “I am ready to take my place in the bonfire circle.”
Accalia raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
Ilrica was caught a little off guard. “Well, yes, of course. That was the deal.”
“The deal was for when your mission is completed. Your mission isn’t over yet, runt.”
Ilrica balled her fists. “But... I did everything that was asked of me. I got you everything you...”
Accalia slipped the tablet and flask into her tunic. “We decide when your mission is over, ilrica faolan.” She spat on the ground, as if the words themselves tainted her lips. “It took years to position you where you are; you can reach places we cannot. We may yet benefit from your continued existence. Stay under cover until you hear from us further.”
Ilrica clenched her fists so hard, her claws drew blood. It trickled down around her knuckles. “But...”
“But nothing!” Accalia snapped, her teeth ringing out like tapped crystal. “We are Bertulf; we have no place for subterfuge, or lies, or spies. That is the realm of prey. We are hunters. We stand in the sun and fight honorably.”
Ilrica ground her teeth. “Yet, you are perfectly willing to let me do it for you.”
Accalia snorted. “That is because you have no honor to lose, half-breed.”
With that, she was gone. Ilrica screamed furiously and punched a wall, tearing the entire corner out of the building. Her body trembled with frustration as she looked at her bloody knuckles. “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”
She wanted to cry, but she sucked it in and clamped down on the emotion with bands of iron. “Calm down, get a hold of yourself,” she screamed. “A huntress does not cry. You swore you would never let them see you cry.”
Ilrica’s pride gave out and she hung her head. “But I do cry... sometimes.”
She sat down and brought her knees up to her chin. One of the benefits of bending time, was that you could always be alone when you wanted to be. She spent a couple of hours just sitting there in silence. In all that time, a little wisp of dust kicked up by the wind had only moved a fraction of an inch.
She stared at the frozen world around her. Mothers standing like statues in mid-stride, holding their childrens’ hands. Men, repairing the masonry on the saloon, stuck in the middle of telling a joke. It felt strangely appropriate. She was in the world, but not a part of it. Only an observer, never a participant. “I’ve always been alone,” she said to herself. “Ever since I was born. But maybe that is for the best.”
Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers over her short gray fur, revealing the deep scars on her skinbeneath. They crisscrossed all over her body like a spider’s web. If she ever shaved her fur off, she figured she would probably be fairly gruesome to look at. “When you are alone, no one can hurt you.”
She looked up at Gerald and Zurra, standing frozen in the street where she had left them. She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Maybe I’m tired of being alone.”
* * *
From Gerald’s point of view, it took no time at all. Ilrica swiped her claw through the air, and suddenly there appeared in the center of the street a long table, laid out with a dozen pots filled with steaming soup, baskets full of rolls, and a large container of fresh clean water.
“There, you see?” Ilrica said proudly. “Now Gerald has no reason not to go with us to the caravan. His paperwork will be done for him, and the soup kitchen is already taken care of.”
“Wow, that is amazing,” Gerald said, looking it over. “How long did it take you to get this ready?
“Just a few hours, no big deal. Now, let’s go have some fun.”
“Well, who is going to distribute the food?”
She gave him a thumbs up. “I already got it covered. I reprogrammed Trahzi’s nursemaid robot to pass out the food.”
* * *
Inside the ship, Trahzi held the puppy closely against her chest as she sat on her bed, her black eyes lost in thought. Suddenly there was a ray of sunlight on her cheek. She looked up and noticed there was now a hole cut into the bulkhead from the outside where the robot had been housed that wasn’t there before. She tilted her head in confusion.
* * *
Back in the plaza, Gerald and Zurra looked over Ilrica’s shoulder. Already people were walking up to the robot and receiving bowls of nice, hot soup.
“Compliments of the Cha’Rolette Ssykes mobile charity organization,” the robot beeped.
“Nice touch, that,” Gerald chuckled, wiping the dust off his mask.
“I thought you’d like it. I even contacted the sector press so you can give an interview later as part of your charity job.”
Gerald was impressed. So impressed he really couldn’t see a way to refuse the offer without breaking at least three Kli’lim laws. “That was really nice of you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you.”
Ilrica slapped Gerald on the back, nearly knocking him over. “You see Immestria? Like I told you, the secret to dating Dyson is to give him no choice at all. Now, come on, let’s go have some fun.”
Zurra turned into a pink velociraptor. “Hey, this is supposed to be just between me and him,” she roared threateningly.
“Too late, Zurinite, it’s now a threesome.”
The dinosaur folded its tiny arms in frustration.
The girls looked at Gerald. He hesitated, looking down at the tablet, then over at the impromptu soup kitchen. “I do like spending time with them,” Gerald thought to himself. “But if I do, won’t I just end up hurting them like I hurt Trahzi?”
Ilrica’s claws grew longer. “Come on, Dyson, I shortened my lifespan to do this for you. The least you can do is come with me.”
Gerald dropped his head. “Ugh, fine.”
“Yay!” The pink dinosaur yelled, jumping up and down.
“Sheesh, making you have fun is like pulling teeth,” Ilrica complained as she wrapped her arm around his neck. “We’ve got to get you to loosen up. Somewhere inside of you, there lies a shallow, lusty, gluttonous drunk male just waiting to break out. All we have to do is find it.”
“I had no idea you held such a high opinion of me.”
“Well, now you know.”
As the three of them walked off together, Ilrica glanced warily up at the top of the empty water tower.
Chapter Twenty-Five
There is no sympathy in justice, there is only justice. At the end of our lives, the measure of our actions is weighed, measured, and returned to us. Thus, the generous are reborn in positions where they may be generous, the industrious are reborn into positions where they may be industrious, the idle are reborn into idleness, the liars are reborn into lies, and the cruel are reborn into cruelty.
-Evening Prayer from the Holy Scrolls of Soeck, Third Binding Twelfth Stanza
Eight years before, little Gerald had pulled a worn chair over to a shredded table and climbed up on it so he could reach better. He tugged at the straps on his overalls to make them fit better, then pulled together the ingredients he would need.
“Geri! Geri!” came a voice from outside. He tried to ignore it.
The kitchen window shattered as a little girl broke through it and landed on the tattered kitchen floor.
“Geri, Geri,” Zurra said, looking like she was about to burst.
“Gerald, what the crap did you break this time?” Mary yelled from upstairs.
“It wasn’t me mom!” Gerald yelled back. “It was Zuri!”
“STOP LYING!” Mary yelled back, stomping her foot on the floor. “I just started fighting a world-boss!”
Gerald sighed.
“Geri, look!” Zurra said, tugging at the pink overalls she was now wearing. “See, now you and I match!”
“It’s just clothes,” he groused, grabbing a broom and dustpan. “And how did you not get cut from all this glass?”
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