Ha!Ha!Ha!

by Steve Beaulieu

  Good. Regrettably, I cannot place the mantle of leadership upon you. One of my daughters must take my place, and as the eldest—

  “It should be me, Mother. No one else can rise above me. Even the thought is—” Seren didn’t even know the word for the emotion rising within herself.

  She had a name for the emotion evident in her mother’s aura, though: fear.

  Seren pulled away from her mother’s pulsing aura. The pulse turned to a flicker, then to a weak but steady glow.

  She’d probably expire soon anyway. What could it hurt if her beloved daughter hurried her death just a bit?

  She leaned close to her mother, close enough to merge their auras, but held back.

  “Seren?”

  There it was again, the fear, in the bright flares and flashes of color. What could her mother possibly have to fear? Unless she had seen this coming. If she had, then why call Seren to her death bed? Aetha must have wanted this, but was too weak to ask. Seren could come to no other conclusion.

  She loosened her control of the aura surrounding her, allowing it to encompass her mother’s form as well.

  “Seren! You can’t—”

  Quickly, before anyone heard her mother’s frantic cries and came to stop her, Seren absorbed what was left of her mother’s energy until all that was left behind was her mother’s physical form.

  A male voice shouted from the entry, “What have you done?”

  Seren spun around to find one of her mother’s mates, possibly her own father, floating in the entry. His already vibrant red aura deepened to nearly black. She had never seen a stronger coloring. Whatever emotions were fueling his energy, they were more powerful than anything she’d ever felt.

  She stood with her back straight and chin held high.

  “I have borne witness to my mother’s final wishes. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the strength to make my ascension official. However, as the eldest daughter—”

  He assumed his own physical form—more closely resembling the thickly-muscled K’Gaon—and rapidly approached her. “That was not what your mother wanted.”

  She made a mental note to deal with his insolence at a later time.

  “How would you know? Were you spying on us? How dare you!”

  “No! I would never. When her aura first began to fade, she told me you weren’t ready. Those were her words.”

  “Now you accuse me of lying? I—”

  Several more sozarian filtered into the room, drawn by the turmoil she and her mother’s mate were casting about. All of them assumed physical forms to better understand the communication between the two. Her mother’s chamber was suddenly filled with sozarians to witness the events occurring therein, all of whom would help determine the outcome of this debacle.

  Her mother’s mate made his formal accusation and, with so many to witness their actions, Seren was helpless to stop him.

  “I, Qanu of the Sozari, charge you with acting violently,” he said, “and leave you to the capable hands of the council.”

  Qanu’s physical form dissipated and he glided out of her mother’s chambers, presumably toward the tribunal.

  Seren followed in her physical form. He may have been in a hurry to get there, but she was scrambling for an excuse for her actions. Their fellow sozarians followed quietly.

  Once they reached the tribunal, the likeliest outcome became readily apparent.

  Eight red-hot glowing auras, including Qanu’s, lined the far wall, casting their garnet flare onto the smooth white panels behind them. One of these sozarians was her father, though no one knew which. Still, the betrayal stung. Every single one of these sozarian was willing to stand against his own daughter.

  They weren’t even there! If only in her own mind, Seren railed against the injustice.

  The eight auras, connected as they were, communicated among themselves.

  With so many observant bystanders, Seren had no choice but to await their final word. Perhaps one of them held some semblance of loyalty.

  That loyalty, apparently, remained to one another. Her mother’s mates all stood as one against her.

  “Aetha has communicated her concerns with each of us at some point during the last planetary alignment cycle. We know not who she had in mind as successor, only that it was not to be you.”

  Seren slowly turned to check the aura of each sozarian present. All of them seemed a sickly gray color indicative of apathy. None shone vibrantly, beckoning to communicate with her and possibly take a stand at her side. Not even one.

  If she thought she could get away with it, she’d have absorbed every ounce of energy from the room, destroying them all.

  “Very well, then,” she said. “What does the council say?”

  Discord thrummed throughout the tribunal as a multitude of sozarians all tried to broadcast their thoughts at once.

  Seren’s own aura pulsed violently at the outburst.

  “Silence,” she called out in her deep but feminine voice. “Everyone, please. The council must be heard on the issue before anything else can be said or done.”

  One sozarian, surrounded by a light-blue aura, glided forward. She stopped just short of Seren. Before her, a slight form—a human youngling—took shape. The child-human’s large brown eyes made the sozarian, most likely her sister Gogue, look innocent and kind.

  Since the only other sozarian with such aural coloring was now dead—her energy buried deep within Seren herself—the one standing before her had to be Gogue. Seren knew her sister too well to believe the façade of goodness.

  A flash of intuition struck her. Why Gogue had inherited their mother’s coloring and none of her other daughters had, no one knew. And it had never mattered. But now that Gogue was apparently the council’s appointed speaker, it mattered.

  It was everything.

  Had Aetha wanted Gogue to rule in Seren’s stead?

  “Seren.” Gogue’s high, child-like voice was a deliberate contrast to her own. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. How better to drive home the point of Seren’s guilt than to portray her as the opposite of innocence itself?

  “Gogue. Has the council decided on a course of action?”

  “Yes, we have.” She smiled as though she were doing her eldest sister a kindness, as though the words to follow would herald an act of benevolence. “You are hereby banished to the nearest inhabited planet—Earth.”

  “Banished.” Seren held her emotions in check. She wouldn’t give her sister the satisfaction of an outburst. “For how long?”

  Those innocent eyes grew even larger, mocking her with their pretend concern. “Why, forever, of course.”

  Visiting Earth was one thing—she had often dreamed of doing so—but this? They didn’t even know if they had the physiology of the human systems correct, not for certain. Any physical form she manifested could dissipate or explode. She could even die under the wrong circumstances. And all for what? Because she’d hastened her mother’s imminent death?

  Gogue and everyone else in the room stood silently, awaiting her response. She could—and would—argue her reasoning for her actions, but it wouldn’t benefit her in the end.

  “I formally challenge the decree of the council. The punishment does not fit the crime. I did not take a full lifetime from another being, only a few fleeting moments—relatively speaking. But this exile to another planet? You may as well kill me now.” That, she hoped, would do the trick. Implying that they were inflicting harm upon her, even inadvertently, might have been enough to sway the council.

  Gogue answered the challenge. “You took a leader from her people.”

  “She was already dying, near death,” Seren insisted.

  “Not her,” Gogue said. “You committed an act of violence. Our highest edict forbids violence, especially against another sozarian. In committing this crime, you’ve shown yourself unworthy of leadership. You took a leader—yourself—from her people. I would say you may as well kill yourself now, however, exile better aligns wit
h our ways, as you well know.”

  Not having thought of the matter from that stance—and reeling from her sister’s harsh words—Seren could think of no rebuke in that moment.

  “This doesn’t necessarily mean death,” Gogue said. The wisdom of her words, delivered in such a youthful voice, had a profound effect on Seren. Though she couldn’t quite place the emotion coursing through her, it wasn’t negative.

  Another form took shape before her, a male human with a vibrant red aura. Qanu.

  He smiled and the fine lines at his temples gave him a truly forgiving and understanding appearance. “Seren, no one wishes you harm. We do, however, need a good and just ruler. Perhaps,” he paused to glance around at the various sozarians present, “perhaps you could return someday, after you’ve proven your worth.”

  She should feel hopeful, but Gogue’s words had stirred something within her and Seren was no longer sure exile was something to be feared. Curiosity, more than anything else, bade her reply. “And how might I manage to prove myself worthy?”

  Gogue’s high-pitched voice whined a disagreement. “It’s too late. Nothing can undo the act that has already been done.”

  “Until there is a new ruler,” Qanu insisted, “and unless the council disagrees, I propose allowing Seren a second chance. Earning that chance will not be easy.”

  “But—” Gogue attempted to interrupt him, but another sozarian manifested a physical form to interject.

  “Gogue, you’ve had a chance to speak. Qanu has something new to add to the conversation. You must let him have his say.”

  Gogue acknowledged protocol, but crossed her arms and pouted just as one might expect from the child-form she wore. Perhaps that was why she always took the form of a species’ youngling.

  “Thank you,” Qanu said and moved several paces behind Seren, where he could face all of his fellow sozarians. “Pending objections from the council…” He paused to allow anyone to offer additional thoughts. When everyone remained silent, he continued. “Seren is hereby temporarily exiled to the planet known as Earth. During her time there, she must bring the humans together under a single ruler who will direct them to live as we do, as a peaceful society should.”

  His words finally brought that nagging thought to the front of her mind. It doesn’t necessarily mean death, Gogue had said. A single ruler…of Earth.

  Even if she couldn’t rule on Orh'neon—which was unlikely now—who was to say she couldn’t rule on Earth?

  “I find Qanu’s terms of discipline acceptable.” If she failed to bring humanity under her thumb, she might have to present a case for her return to Orh'neon. The worst they could do was tell her no. Either way, she had little choice in the matter so, rather than burning her bridges here today, she would leave peaceably. Respectfully, even.

  Seren left the tribunal with high hopes, surprised to find her spirits buoyed when she should have felt nothing but defeated. At least her sisters wouldn’t be able to establish rule while she was gone. She hoped they wouldn’t anyway. That opening Qanu left her—which she intended to question him about later—would probably be enough of an objection to keep the council from even accepting nominations for a new ruler. But that was only if someone made the objection in her stead.

  Perhaps Qanu would serve as her proxy, since her second chance was his idea in the first place. Why had he suggested such a thing? He saw her absorb her mother’s waning energy. He should have been the last sozarian to stand up for her.

  Now that she had plans to rule Earth, she cared little for the answer. But just in case things on Earth didn’t go her way, it would be nice to have a plan in place for her return.

  • • •

  Seren trailed her fingertips along the smooth raised bar in the wall, stopping at a familiar entry. Inside her mother’s chambers, Qanu was waiting for her.

  “I thought you might be here,” she said.

  Still wearing a physical form, he was kneeling on the cushion beside Aetha’s bed. “I wish I’d had the chance to honor her life while she was still here, but since that has been taken from me…”

  He stood and turned to face her. “You are curious why I, of all sozarians, would advocate for your return to Orh'neon, yes?”

  She nodded and approached with caution.

  “You already have the answer, Aetha has ensured it. Honor her life once more, then you tell me why I spoke on your behalf.”

  Qanu stepped aside and waved a hand toward the cushion on the floor.

  Seren warily studied him as she moved to take the appropriate position, shifting from the sozarian physical form to one closer to human so she could comfortably kneel.

  “Honored Elder, it is my sincerest wish you take comfort in all that you have given me in life. You’ve shared knowledge so that I might gain wisdom. You’ve shown patience so that I might gain persistence and compassion so that I might learn…”

  Tears burned her eyes as the answer hit her full-force. “Forgiveness,” she finished.

  Qanu’s warm sozarian hand rested atop her head as she struggled to compose herself. She’d had no doubt at all her mother would forgive her actions. She hadn’t expected that same forgiveness to come from anyone else—she hadn’t thought anyone would ever know what she’d done in the first place.

  In that moment, she felt like a child. A child whose father had finally decided to show some indication of the love he felt for her. If that was true of Qanu, he was far too late. She had never needed him before, and she didn’t need him now. In that moment, she knew she would never return to her homeworld.

  There was nothing for her here.

  Seren brushed her tears away and stood, resuming a sozarian form. This brief moment of weakness changed nothing for her.

  “Qanu, please escort me to the launch bay.”

  Down more smooth corridors, around shimmering corners, and past floating auras of various shades, Seren followed Qanu until they reached the launch bay. A tiny oval ship the size of an ostrich egg on Earth waited with its hatch open and loading ramp extended. Her thrusters already engaged, the small transit ship fairly hummed as she hovered in place.

  Seren manifested a much smaller version of a human, small enough to fit inside her ship, Nephise, and left Orh'neon without a backwards glance.

  As soon as she settled into the plush seat, the loading ramp retracted into the ship’s structure, curving perfectly within its walls, and her hatch sealed closed.

  “Nephise, display visual representation of K’Gaon’s Manifest, all Earth Iterations.”

  “Visual Recall: Complete K’Gaon Exploration Manifest.” A projection screen slid down from the ship’s dome above her head as Nephise began the launch sequence.

  For the duration of the journey, Seren watched Earth’s history told from the perspective of one of the alien races who had visited the planet many times.

  • • •

  Seren woke some time later and idly wondered if Orh'neon still existed or if she’d slept and traveled for too long. With a soft hiss, Nephise released an outer seal and her hatch slid open. She extended her loading ramp and waited patiently for Seren to get her bearings.

  Pressing her thumbs into the sides of the arm rests, Seren injected a serum that would infuse her limbs with strength and her mind with clarity. After a few moments, she felt much more alert. She stood slowly, stretching each limb and muscle as she moved.

  Shifting into her aural form would have been easier and faster, but she wanted to ascertain right away whether or not this human form could survive on Earth. As far as she knew, she was the first sozarian to visit this planet. She could easily leave this form in a hurry if she needed to. For the moment, she wanted to experience Earth in every way possible. She wanted to not just see it, but feel it.

  Slowly and cautiously, she emerged from Nephise, but paused at the end of the ramp. She was almost fully exposed to this new world. Cool air touched her skin in the darkness.

  In the soft glow of Earth’s moon, Seren stu
died the grass surrounding her and Nephise. She’d seen visions of it before, imagined what it must have been like. But the stories the sozarians had picked up from human technology fell short of reality. The “blades” of grass looked far more delicate than their name implied, even though they were enlarged due to her super small form. With a single finger, she tested one flat, green edge. It was soft, surprisingly so, and not at all sharp enough to cut her. Perhaps being so small had dulled the edge by comparison. She couldn’t fully experience this world in such a tiny form. Throwing herself fully into her new surroundings, Seren manifested a full-sized human body, dissipated her current form, and stepped into the new human Seren.

  The form, far too large for Nephise’s ramp, was already standing in the grass, its feet crushing patterns into two patches of flattened grass. Amazingly, the blades yielded to her feet rather than cutting into them. Everything she thought she knew about Earth came into question. Perhaps this place wasn’t dangerous at all.

  The humans could still be a threat, though. They were, by far, the most destructive force on this planet. She’d have to tread carefully, and hide Nephise, but with her ability to manifest a perfect and appealing form, Seren doubted she’d have much trouble bringing them under her control. The females with flawless faces, called makeup, large breasts, long legs, and curvy but somehow lean figures tended to be the most popular, though males still held the highest positions of power. Her best bet would probably be to get close to one of the world leaders, then assume its form to conquer the rest.

  She knelt close to the small, egg-shaped ship. “Nephise, to keep you safe, you must remain hidden. Which do you prefer? Sky or earth? Perhaps I could find water before we run into humans.”

  Nephise answered in her calm, soothing voice. “Find a hillside, it can be small. Dig a den and bury me therein. That should keep my temperature regulated while I hibernate until your return.”

  “I’ll find a nice spot for you right away.”

  • • •

  With Nephise tucked in safely, Seren strode across an open field with building excitement. The moon in the clear sky high above her tracked her progress toward other, smaller but brighter lights.