Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  * * *

  Ilrica fidgeted with something behind her back as she stood in the city park above Gerald Dyson as he slept, Cadbury curled up in his lap. A thin layer of frost had gathered on his cassock during the night. Everything was a frozen gray, except for her eyes, which glowed a bright green.

  From her belt she drew out a crudely carved kryssa knife and held it in her hands. Closing her green eyes, she focused herself. “You have to think clearly. Your Aatuu gave you an order. He swore an oath to you. He commanded you to eliminate the human, so he must be eliminated.”

  She spun the knife in her grip and knelt over him, ready to strike. She breathed deeply, accidentally catching his scent. It made her start back. Her face was flush, her hearts pounding.

  “No! No! No!” She said, shaking her head. “This is stupid. He is just prey, he means nothing to me.”

  Biting her lip, she leaned forward again. As the blade neared his throat, her hand began to shake.

  “Come on girl, you have to do this,” she strained. “We came here to earn our place in the bonfire circle. It’s within our grasp. Don’t jeopardize it over one little chunk of meat.”

  She pressed the edge against his throat, but then she remembered what Gerald had said back at the police station on Chanterelle. He had every reason to betray her, but he hadn’t. He had even defended her honor. He was the only one who ever had.

  Ilrica froze in place. All her life, she had wanted nothing more than to be a part of something. She wanted to be in a place where she belonged, a place of loyalty, a place of acceptance. And here, with this dumb little monk, if only for a brief moment, she had felt it.

  “Come on!” she fought with all her strength. “Do it! You’ve killed thousands of prey stronger than him. Why should this one be any different?”

  Her whole body trembled. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes.

  “Come on! What is wrong with you? You’re stronger than this! Aren’t you? Just finish him off. He’s an obstacle to your dream! How long do you want to be alone? How long do you want to be an outcast? Don’t you...”

  Her fingers loosened on the handle.

  “...don’t you...”

  The knife rattled in her grip.

  “...don’t you want...”

  The knife fell from her hand.

  “...don’t you want to be happy?”

  Finally, her inner struggle ended, and she sat back in defeat. She hung her head low, her long tail fell limply to the gray grass.

  “Once... just once... I wanted to be happy... just once...”

  Ilrica scooped up the knife and tossed it aside.

  “You really are an idiot, Dyson,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “If you knew what was good for you, you would have left me back in that interrogation room.”

  From behind her back she took out a small dead animal she had hunted and laid it down dutifully in offering next to him.

  Slowly she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “I guess I really am just an ilrica faolan, after all,” she said sadly, and turned away.

  * * *

  Something made Gerald stir from an uneasy sleep. His eyes opened. It was still night, the morning sun was only a vague halo of warmth over the glassy eastern mountains.

  Gerald sat up. His throat was burning. He reached up his hand and found a trickle of blood there, and a fresh cut. Next to him on the ground was a bloodstained bone knife.

  Before he could panic, he noticed the silhouette of Ilrica sitting just a few feet off.

  “They commanded me to kill you,” she said without turning around.

  “I guess that makes you part of the club,” Gerald said, rubbing his throat. Emotions flooded through him. Fear, relief, confusion, anger swirled around inside of him, but he refused to react. Instead, he forced himself to stand up and walk over to her. He reminded himself that if she had wanted him dead, he would be dead. She was so terrifyingly powerful, like the others. It made him feel like he was made of tissue paper in a world of steel and fire.

  Setting aside his fear, he sat down next to her. “You’re a half-breed, aren’t you?”

  Ilrica sniffed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Once I saw what a female Bertulf looked like, I knew it right away.”

  “So, why didn’t you say anything?”

  “A couple of reasons. One, I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. And two, because it really didn’t matter to me. You are you. That’s all there is to it.”

  Her face pinched. “You must hate me after all I said. All that boasting about the superior Bertulf race. All that talk about how inferior the prey races are.”

  Ilrica looked away, disgusted with herself. “I’m such a hypocrite. I look down on everyone who doesn’t have pure blood, but there is no blood more polluted than mine.”

  “No, you’re amazing,” Gerald said, looking at her kindly. “But it has nothing to do with your blood. You’re amazing because of who you are, not what you are.”

  Ilrica laughed bitterly. “Yeah? I’m a liar, a saboteur, probably a war criminal. There’s nothing enviable about who I am.”

  “Don’t forget that you are a lousy driver.”

  Ilrica slugged him in the shoulder, knocking him over.

  “But no, I don’t hate you.” Gerald said, sitting back up. “I could care less what kind of blood runs through your veins.”

  Ilrica looked at him and chuckled. “Boy, you really are dense, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Bloodlines and family names are everything in the Alliance. You are an idiot to treat them so lightly.”

  She looked down. “But I suppose the galaxy might be a better place if it had more idiots in it.”

  Gerald nodded. For a long time, neither said anything. They just sat there as the morning light gathered in the sky, preceding the sun spilling out over the mountain tops.

  “I’m half Korran,” she admitted at length. “They’re not all that different from humans.”

  “I didn’t know that Bertulf and Korrans could have a child together.”

  “They can’t, at least they’re not supposed to be able to. My mother, if you want to call her that, was being held as part of supp’tal. That’s prey who are kept alive for a time to sustain the pack through the long winter.”

  “Never heard of a smokehouse?”

  “Bertulf hate dried meat. Ruins the texture.”

  “I see.”

  Ilrica’s tail flicked about sadly. “By the time that it was discovered she was with child, she was nearly at full term with me. They killed her when they found out, of course, but somehow I survived. They didn’t know what to do with me. Nothing like this had ever happened before. I was part Bertulf, so they couldn’t kill me. Bertulf do not hunt Bertulf. It is their most sacred law. But I was also part prey, so I couldn’t be a part of the pack either. Even Faelan was at a loss at what to do. So, they left me out in the snow, and let fate decide whether I would live or die.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  She looked at him, her emerald eyes fierce. “I fought. I fought for every scrap of food. I fought for every hour of life. My Korran blood helped a lot, as I was able to walk and run without aid as soon as I was born.”

  Gerald brought his knees in. “I can’t imagine. A baby not a day old left to fend for herself in the wild. It must have been terrible for you. Do you remember any of it?”

  “Just feelings, really. Fear, hunger, pain. I was like a wild animal back then.”

  “And now, you’re a sophisticated city-girl, an alumni of Central Exeter.”

  Ilrica shook her head. “No, inside I’m still just that frightened little cub. You see, when you are little, your mother and family care for you. It sets up a sensation that you are safe, and you are loved. That acts as a foundation for everything else. All your social skills, your ability to trust people, your ability to form real bonds, all of that is buil
t upon those two things.”

  “But you didn’t have that, did you?”

  Ilrica shook her head. “I didn’t even have a name. “I still don’t. Ilrica faolan isn’t a name, it is a slang term the cubs made up that just kind of caught on. In the Bertulf language, it roughly translates to filthy and misshapen.”

  Ilrica took a deep breath, trying to hide the pain. “When you don’t have that foundation, all you are left with is survival instincts. Self-preservation. So, to me, everything was a threat, every person an enemy, every shadow a nightmare.”

  Gerald nodded in understanding. “That’s why you tease people, make them mad. It’s a way of keeping them at arm’s length.”

  Ilrica nodded. “I put them on the defensive so they can’t hurt me. I act like I don’t care, but really that is just a mask to hide how scared I am.”

  Gerald wasn’t sure what to say. “I can hardly blame you. I mean, what is the proper response to the situation you grew up in? You were formed in the crucible of your circumstances, same as any of us. I’m as much a product of my own childhood as you are yours.”

  She turned to look at him, her eyes sad. “As I got older, as I learned to thrive by myself in the wilds, I found something worse than pain, worse than hunger.”

  Gerald looked down. He knew what she meant all too well.

  “Loneliness,” he said.

  She nodded. “It’s a terrible thing, to be alone. Perhaps one of the worst things. And now, it will forever be my fate to be alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I failed to kill you. Now I’ll never have a place among the Bertulf.”

  Her composure broke, and she began weeping openly. “All my life, I watched them from afar. I just wanted to be a part of it, you know? I thought that if I served them they would let me be one of them. I was so stupid, I didn’t even pay attention to what they were having me do. I didn’t care who got hurt, so long as I could be happy with them once my mission was over. I’ve done bad things, Gerald. Horrible things. If you knew half of them you’d run away screaming.”

  Gerald took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face. She allowed her cheek to fall into his palm, and to her relief, he did not pull away. She reached up her hand and pressed his palm against her face. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, Gerald. I see now that when duty and feelings collide, it’s not as simple as I thought.”

  Gerald reached up and gave her a friendly scratch behind the ear. Normally it would have bothered her, but in that moment, it was exactly what she needed. She closed her eyes, savoring the soothing sensation, the comfort of being touched without being afraid. Her chest felt so tight it almost hurt. She let go of her pride, and simply allowed herself to trust him.

  It was as if a floodgate had opened within her heart. She felt herself filling up from within. All the loneliness, all the pain, all the heartache, seemed to be washed away, cleansed into nothing more than a memory. All that mattered to her now was this moment. She was a time-bender, but only then, for the first time in her life, did time truly seem to stop. The world faded away, until it was just the two of them, and she couldn’t believe how safe and loved she felt. She knew she could trust him with her heart. He might be useless and clumsy, but he would never hurt it. Her heart was safe with him.

  “I feel all girly inside,” she thought to herself, her tail wagging happily. “It feels a little embarrassing, but nice too... amazing even.”

  Ilrica opened her eyes and looked into his. Her knees felt weak, her heart was racing, and she was releasing so much pheromone into the air that even she could smell it.

  “I love him, don’t I,” she thought. “This is what it feels like.”

  “So, it was you who was doing this the whole time?” Gerald asked, holding up her offering.

  “Ah, yeah,” she said, scratching her neck. “It’s kind of a sign of respect among the Bertulf. Seems silly now.” Ilrica didn’t mention that it signified that she considered him her alpha. She wasn’t quite ready to admit that yet, even to him.

  “Whew, I’m relieved.”

  “Really?” she asked, perking up.

  “Yes, I thought it was some kind of mafia or cult thing.”

  “Hey, that was a gift from the heart,” she said, slugging him in the arm. “Try to show a little respect for other cultures.”

  Gerald raised an eyebrow. “Bertulf don’t respect other cultures, they conquer them.”

  She giggled. “I know, ironic isn’t it?”

  Gerald snickered. “No, it’s not. Still not what irony means.”

  They sat there, smiling at one another. Ilrica wanted him to kiss her so bad, it was all she could do to stop herself from reaching out and throwing him to the ground. It actually kind of startled her a little.

  “You are wrong about one thing, though,” he added.

  “What’s that?”

  “You do have a place amongst the Bertulf.”

  Ilrica’s countenance fell. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

  “No, I’m serious. Your place is that of an outcast. There may not be anyone else in your place with you right now, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a place.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better, you know?”

  “An outcast is a necessary and useful part of any society. You see things from a distance, a bit dispassionately even. It gives you a different perspective; lets you be more objective. And when a people lose their way, it is the role of the outcast to set them straight. Force them to live up to their own code.”

  Gerald put his finger underneath her chin and turned her face to him. She looked up at him with her beautiful emerald eyes. “I know,” he said, “because I am also an outcast.”

  Ilrica knew where he was going with this, but she was afraid.

  “Ilrica, can you honestly tell me that your people have not gone astray?”

  She didn’t want to answer.

  “These drone warships, using spies and espionage, these aren’t the ways of a hunter.”

  “But they aren’t using warships or spying,” she defended weakly. “They are having others do it for them.”

  “You really think Faelan would tolerate splitting hairs like that? That is the distinction of a politician, not a warrior. Even if they aren’t the ones doing the spy work, they are still benefitting from it. Is that the way of a hunter? She may have told them to win back their old empire, but there is no way she would approve of doing it this way. Am I right?”

  Ilrica looked up at him, ashamed. “No, you’re right. They have strayed from the path, and discarded their code. Liufr Ivaylo does not lead them with wisdom or honor.”

  Ilrica covered her face in shame. “Ooh, I can’t believe you made me admit that.”

  “So, what do we do when we find something broken?” he asked, slapping her on the back.

  Ilrica looked up and smiled. “We fix it?”

  “That’s right. Now, the Bertulf are attacking Zurra’s new home world. It’s the capital of the Sub-Federation, so I’m sure they’ll want to make an example of it. Many lives are going to be lost unless something is done. The Alliance can’t get there in time, but I think you can.”

  “Me? What can I do?”

  Gerald hugged her. It was so sudden and unexpected, it took her breath away. In her mind, everything became white. In her heart, fireworks went off. In her stomach, a swarm of butterflies fluttered. She was so overcome with emotion she felt like she might pass out.

  “You can do anything,” Gerald said, hugging her even tighter. “You’re my hero, I believe in you.”

  Gerald released her. She looked stunned, like she had been smacked in the head and didn’t know which way was up anymore. A drunken little grin crept across her face.

  Suddenly, Ilrica’s eyes went wild and she swiped her glowing claws at him.

  Gerald ducked instinctively at her attack, but it never connected. When he looked up, the world was gray, and Ilrica was panting heavil
y.

  “Holy cow, you scared me,” Gerald said. “I thought you had done one of those girl things and gone crazy all of the sudden.”

  Ilrica gasped to catch her breath, her hand on her chest, her eyes afraid.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed up, and Gerald realized that there was a pillar of white-hot plasma directly above them. As wide as a house, it came down from space above like a staff of light, ending just inches over their heads.

  “An orbital barrage?”

  Ilrica grabbed his hand and pulled him away. “Hurry,” she gasped, “I had to accelerate us as hard as I could. It won’t last long.”

  “Wait,” Gerald said, snatching up Cadbury.

  Ilrica took his arm and it felt like the world turned on its side. They fell forward, speeding along the ground, trying to put as much distance between them and the particle beam as possible.

  They had only flown a few blocks when the color bled back into the world, and the park where they had been exploded in a fireball.

  Another lance struck down from the heavens and Ilrica swiped again. The beam froze just feet from them as they flew off to the east.

  “Where is it coming from?” Gerald asked.

  “The defense satellites.”

  The spell wore off and the plasma hit the ground, incinerating the abandoned library. The shockwave washed over Gerald and Ilrica, tumbling them across the street and slamming them into the side of the local history museum.

  Gerald stumbled to his feet and tapped the translator on his ear. “Trahzi, we’re under attack, can you...”

  Ilrica froze time again. Gerald looked up at the beam coming down from above them. Even accelerated as they were, it still inched down towards him, his face illuminated with the blue-white light from it.

  “Come on,” Ilrica said, snatching him up again.

  * * *

  The next town over, Trahzi had finally managed to find a store that was still open. The little storefront was part of the owner’s house, so she had been able to rouse him with thunderous and persistent knocking. The kindly old man tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, looking on in confusion as she set down several bags of gourmet pet food, and a hunk of shimmering metal on top.