Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  She had done this a million times before. She remembered being able to do it, she remembered being excellent at all of it.

  The computer beeped negatively. Her course projections were off.

  No...

  Her test result for her first day of course work came back. She had missed half the questions. She blinked. She had been so sure of every answer, she had even double checked before turning it in.

  No...

  The economic simulation came back. If her plan had actually been implemented, she would have lost Ssykes Industries over 37 billion the first year alone.

  No... I can do this...

  She struggled with the plate of sand. Try as she might to move an individual grain, the best she could accomplish was batting the pile back and forth.

  The testing period ended, and she brought up her hands over her mouth, trying hard to contain her emotions. She looked like she was at the point of tears. Her whole body trembled, but she refused to let herself cry.

  Why... why can’t I do this anymore? she asked, her eyes swimming. My ta’atu have been replaced, I should be able to...

  Inside the observation room, E’Duwag dropped his chin.

  Try to understand, Doctor Ko’Linnan said encouragingly, I have never seen a patient come this far. Not one has even made it half as far as she has. With a few more years of...

  Will she get back to where she was? E’Duwag asked, his voice as hard as stone.

  It’s really not fair to her to expect that...

  WILL SHE? he repeated, his ta’atu glowing fiercely.

  Doctor Ko’Linnan lowered his eyes. My grandfather used to say, ‘Once you put a hole in a bucket, it can never hold as much as it did before.’ And she has many holes.

  E’Duwag accepted the answer. He looked out at his daughter as she sat there, trembling in her seat, and for the briefest of moments, a look of sympathy moved through his eyes. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again.

  Inform the branch families, he said to Jonarl. We will need to find a new heir.

  * * *

  Admiral Greir and Nathers burst into the main hall with a cadre of soldiers, and found a room very different than what they had expected. Dozens of holo-recorders turned to face them. Cameras flashed, reporters updated their viewers on live streams, and microphones were shoved in their faces.

  The table full of Zurinite delegates and their Bertulfian counterparts looked up from the mountain of tablets and windows they had been pouring over, a little surprised at the intrusion.

  “May we help you, Admiral?” Senator Immestria asked.

  Greir was unprepared. “We, um, are here to arrest Dyson and Faolan.”

  “You mean them?” Accalia asked, pointing to the head of the table, where Gerald and Ilrica sat alongside Trahzi and a few aides.

  “Yes,” he said, shooing a floating holo-recorder away from his face. “What are they doing in here?”

  “Why, they are negotiating the peace terms between the Core-Worlds Sub-Federation and the Bertulf Military Protectorate,” Senator Immestria explained. “And doing a bang-up job, I might add.”

  “The Bertulf have already destroyed the remaining stocks of the machine-virus,” Gerald shared ehtusiastically. “As a gesture of goodwill.”

  The Admiral was shocked. “Oh, that’s—”

  “Actually, we never would have been able to convince the other clans were it not for Minister Faolan,” Ullok explained, his armband signifying his new position as Alpha. “She’s the only one here who knows both our traditions and alliance law well enough to harmonize them.”

  Ilrica spun her stylis in her fingers. “By treating these proceedings as a Trial of Position, we can limit weapons use without admitting guilt or losing face. It allows the clans to retain their honor as it is considered a lateral move rather than backing down from the current challenge.”

  Greir clenched his teeth. “Be that as it may, Dyson and Faolan...”

  “Ministers Dyson and Faolan, if you please,” Ilrica insisted, relishing every second.

  Admiral Greir looked like he was about to pop. “Ministers Faolan and Dyson severely overstepped their authority by beginning these proceedings without my approval. They will have to appear before a military tribunal.”

  Senator Immestria stood up and extended his hands. “Are you daft, man? These two are heroes. You don’t put heroes on trial!” He stepped in close and whispered so the microphones wouldn’t pick it up. “The whole Alliance is watching, you fool.”

  Senator Immestria walked over and placed a pink hand on Gerald’s shoulder, and another on Ilrica’s, massaging slightly. “You try to punish them and I’ll have them pardoned on the spot,” he declared, giving the cameras a moment to take a really good shot of him. “That is how we treat a hero in the Alliance.”

  “Really? I thought we forced them to retire and discarded them into little one room apartments somewhere,” Greir growled.

  Trahzi calmly stroked the puppy’s head while looking coldly at the dozen or so soldiers inching their way toward them. “Gerald, shall I deal with them?”

  Gerald chuckled nervously. “You know, Trahzi, when you say things like that while petting the puppy, you kind of seem like a James Bond villain.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind.”

  Nathers stepped forward. “Surely you would prefer someone of greater experience to oversee these proceedings. Now that the western fleet is here—”

  “Actually, I don’t think I would be comfortable with anyone else,” Ullok explained. “Unless you have someone who speaks our language and knows our ways better than she does.”

  Nathers opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

  “How are things back at the Academy, former Director?” Ilrica asked with a twinkle in her eye. She couldn’t resist the urge to twist the knife just a little.

  “Nor would I be comfortable with anyone else,” Senator Immestria seconded, folding his arms. “This last week has been very productive. I’d hate to throw away the headway we’ve already made. I might ask where you were all this time. If it weren’t for these two, everyone on this planet would be dead right now.”

  Nathers and Greir bristled visibly. They had just come from a great military victory and took umbrage at having their achievements overshadowed by a couple of kids.

  “It would seem the decision has already been made.” Greir said through gritted teeth. He lifted his hand, and the soldiers stood down.

  * * *

  Zurra lay in the darkness of her room, staring at the ceiling. A window appeared and issued her morning alarm. A bolt of electricity hit the window, vaporizing it.

  Slowly she rose up out of her bucket and took on her humanoid form. Her eyes were sullen and dark. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to sleep.

  She turned her head to the side and gritted her teeth. She knew exactly when it was the last time she’d had a real night’s sleep. It was the night before she found out who Gerald really was.

  Since then, she had been living in a twilight world, frozen in time, dripping with bitterness. Wearily, she walked over to a fine mesh screen and pushed her liquid body through its pores, filtering out any bits of dirt and pebbles she may have collected the previous day. She wouldn’t have bothered, except that her father was at the center of a media frenzy right now. It was likely that he would have enough support to run for Proconsul in the fall, and she didn’t want to ruin his chances by walking around filthy, and give the opposition party something embarrassing to splash all over the hypernet.

  The door to her room slid open, and she saw a tray sitting there, filled with her favorite foods. Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, Spam, and Twinkies. For a second her eyes lit up and her mouth opened hungrily, but then she saw the note and recognized Gerald’s handwriting.

  Zurra kicked the tray aside, scattering its contents down the hallway.

  Yawning, she made her way down towards the palac
e kitchen, making sure to use the servant’s corridors so as not to pass by the main hall. The negotiations were going well. Greir and Nathers had been reamed by their superiors. The footage of them interrupting the peace talks had gone viral, and the two of them had been compelled to make the most forced and insincere public apology anyone had ever seen. That only added fuel to the media firestorm. Despite their claims of impartiality, reporters loved nothing more than making a traditionalist like Greir look bad.

  Many details of the peace accord had already been hammered out. However, every time Gerald and Ilrica brought up the fact that Ssykes Industries had been the ones to supply the Bertulf with the drone warships, the point was always quickly sidelined by the other delegates. It was obvious that a lot of strings were being pulled behind the scenes. The fact that Ssykes’ name didn’t appear once in any of the official transcripts was evidence of the frightening political power of their family.

  Technically, Zurra was still a Minister as well, but since she was also the daughter to the head of the Zurinite delegation, she had recused herself to avoid a conflict of interest.

  Zurra stopped. That was just an excuse. The real reason was, she couldn’t stand being around Gerald. It hurt too much.

  * * *

  Zurra stared blankly at the contents of the palace pantry. Never before had so much food seemed so unappealing.

  “Do we have any Earth food?” she asked absentmindedly.

  “Um, I don’t think so dear,” the matronly cook said as she walked past, busily preparing food for the delegates. “But I’m sure the food printer can make a fairly good approximation.”

  Zurra sighed. “I want a hot dog.”

  “If you’re hungry, lunch will be ready in a few minutes, dear.”

  Zurra turned around in surprise. Already, the midday sunlight was coming in through the windows. She looked around in confusion. “Have I really been standing here all morning?”

  “No,” the cook said as she kneaded some dough, her pink gelatinous body jiggling from the effort. “For a while, you stood in front of the freezer.”

  “I guess I’ll do that some more, then.”

  Zurra walked over to the freezer, when the last person in the world she wanted to see ran up to her.

  “Hey Zuri!” Gerald greeted.

  Zurra’s body sprouted pink thorns everywhere as soon as she heard him.

  Gerald held up a prepared picnic basket like the one he used to have when they were kids. “Hey, I’m glad I found you. The session let out early today. There’s supposed to be this really nice hiking trail out back behind the palace, and I thought we could...”

  Zurra shoved Gerald inside the freezer and slammed the door shut on him.

  “This door stays closed, do you understand?!” she shouted to the dozen or so servants in the room. They all looked at her as if she were crazy.

  “I’m not going hiking in my own back yard,” Zurra grumbled as she stomped out of the room.

  In the lunch hall, Zurra tossed a few things on her plate without even looking at them and sat down at the nearest table. To look at them, you wouldn’t think this was a group of former enemies negotiating the most important document of their careers. They mingled with each other, conversing in a friendly manner. They could have been students backat Central Exeter for all the cut-throat bloodlust they displayed.

  An image of Gerald back at school flashed though her mind, and she recoiled as if she had touched something hot. It was only after she had taken her first tasteless bite that she noticed who she sat next to.

  “Hey,” Ilrica said, raising up a couple of fingers as she slurped down some noodles.

  Zurra’s eyes became as big as saucers. “It’s you!”

  “Brilliant deduction, professor. You should write a paper.”

  Zurra turned away in anger. “Don’t talk to me.”

  Ilrica shrugged and took a bite of vegetables. “Fair enough.”

  For a few minutes, they sat there awkwardly, Ilrica slurping her food, Zurra trembling with irritation at the noise.

  “Can you not eat quietly?” she finally grumbled, her eyebrows twitching.

  “You sat next to me, remember?”

  “If I had known I wouldn’t have.”

  Ilrica slurped down some more noodles. “Do you know where Dyson is, by any chance? He disappeared on me.”

  Zurra narrowed her darkened eyes. “Haven’t seen him.”

  She lifted up her spoon to take a bite of stew when her temper got the better of her. “You know, if I hadn’t hit the side of the Hexton, I could have just been floating out there in space forever.”

  Ilrica put a finger in her ear and wiggled it around. “Sorry, I had trouble hearing you OVER ALL THE PAPER CUTS IN MY EARS!”

  The two glared at each other, a spark of electricity passing between them.

  At the far end of the hall, Gerald stumbled in carrying a frozen basket, icicles hanging from the tips of his brown hair.

  “I’m done,” Zurra said, rolling away and leaving her tray behind.

  Gerald walked over and flopped down next to Ilrica into the empty chair.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, pulling an icicle off his cassock.

  “I just got chased through half the palace. The head chef though I was fresh meat for the Bertulf delegation.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Absolutely. You are way too gamey to make a proper meal.” She reached out and squeezed his massive biceps. “Of course, with the right amount of basting and a little seasoning, you could be okay in a stew.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  She pinched him on the butt. “Oh, immensely so.”

  There was a flash of fire and Trahzi appeared, frightening the people around them. “Gerald, you should not allow her to touch you so brazenly.”

  “It’s not like I gave her permission,” Gerald said, slapping Ilrica’s hand away.

  Trahzi looked at Ilrica harshly. “Gerald, we have not spent sufficient time together these last few days.”

  Gerald took a bite of cracker. “I know, but we have been kind of busy, what with the peace talks and all.”

  “Yes, I know, but my heart feels lonely. I believe that spending more time with you will help me feel better.”

  “Sounds fun, what are we doing?” Ilrica said, grabbing Gerald’s arm and smashing his elbow into her chest. “Maybe we can go on that hike and eat the frozen lunch you made.”

  Trahzi’s eyes flashed jealously. “You should not try to seduce him.”

  “Me?” Ilrica asked, feigning innocence. “I’m not trying to seduce him.” With an impish gleam in her eyes, she leaned in and nuzzled against Gerald’s neck.

  Trahzi’s eyes burst into flame.

  “Ilrica, knock it off,” Gerald said, trying to shake her off of him. “If she explodes she’ll take out half the palace.”

  Ilrica leaned back and laughed. “I’m just kidding. Oh, trogs, Trahzi, you are so much fun to tease.”

  Trahzi’s eyes narrowed. “A woman of your age should not tease young people.”

  The humor left Ilrica’s face. “That’s not funny.”

  “What do you mean?” Gerald asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Ilrica said, trying to change the subject. “There’s supposed to be some really neat freshwater lakes up in the mountains. Maybe we could go fishing.”

  “Faolan may look young,” Trahzi continued, but she is actually over fifty cycles old.”

  “Are you really?”

  Ilrica’s tail flicked about angrily. “So, I started school a little later than the rest of you. So what?”

  “So why not go sit at the senior citizen table and let me spend time with Gerald?” Trahzi suggested.

  Ilrica scooted in closer to Gerald. “Hey, Bertulf live a long time, and Korrans live even longer. I’ll have you know that biologically I’m still a young lady.”

  “You are the oldest studen
t to ever attend Central Exeter. You are older than most of the teachers.”

  “Oh, you sliced into my personal files, didn’t you?”

  Trahzi nodded. “Of course. In war, it is advantageous to know everything about one’s opponent.”

  Gerald hung his head. “See? This is why you shouldn’t tease people so much, Ilrica. Sometimes they bite back.”

  “Well, what about her?” Ilrica said, embarrassed. “Isn’t she basically tens of thousands of cycles old?”

  “Yes, but my body is the same age as Gerald’s.” She crossed her arms underneath her chest, emphasizing her voluptuous curves. Gerald looked away, his face flushed.

  “Yes, you are a lovely cow with plentiful udders,” Ilrica quipped.

  “Better than being an old hag with a boy’s body.”

  The two girls snarled at each other. Trahzi’s hands burst into flame, and Ilrica’s claws glowed brightly. The people near them excused themselves and hurried away.

  “Gerald!” both girls said, turning to him.

  “Ah! What?” he said, backing up.

  “Choose one of us.”

  “What?”

  “You’d much rather have someone like me as a mate, right Gerald? I can hunt, I can fish, and I can fly.”

  “I can fly too,” Trahzi interjected. “Plus, I actually look like a human woman, not some hairy boy-dog, so you must find me more physically attractive than you do HIM.”

  “Who are you calling a boy-dog? I have a very feminine body, it just isn’t covered in a layer of useless fat!”

  Trahzi’s teeth grew into fangs. “I am not fat! And if we are going to discuss useless, let’s talk about all of your useless fur. Clothes were invented millions of cycles ago. Don’t you think it is about time the Bertulf move out of the stone age?”