Sk'lar

by Elin Wyn

  “I thought I heard somewhere that you’d made it to the top, Phryne. That you had a great life, a great home, and a lot of power. Figures you turned traitor to get it.”

  “What are you talking about?” I sputtered.

  “Ma’am,” Sk’lar stepped closed to Moira, who bared her teeth like some kind of feral creature.

  “Don’t you come near me, scum! If I had a blaster, you’d better be damned sure there’d be a cavity in your chest right now.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Allow me to remind you that I have a blaster myself,” Sk’lar said evenly. Moira paled and finally looked at me.

  “Traitor.” She hissed and spat at my feet before rushing away.

  Sk’lar

  Well-dressed members of all four species filed into the auditorium at an agonizingly dreary pace. Though frustrating for everyone involved, it was absolutely vital to security that we check each and every being for any sort of weapon.

  The elections were still a month away, but the fervor had reached a high pitch amongst the electorate. Vidia and her opponent would soon stand at opposite podiums on the stage, each laying out their plan for the future of our shared world.

  My team had been called in to beef up security for the debate. I had taken up a position near the front entrance, standing on a raised dais so I could easily survey the entire floor at once.

  A commotion at the doors drew my attention. Rokul and Takar, twin Skotans, had been manually patting down guests upon entry, even though they had already passed through electronic scanners wielded by Cazak and Thribb, our chief engineer, and his assistant, Zarik.

  Thribb had had a complicated relationship with General Rouhr. Like many of the crew of the Vengeance, he’d been desperate to go back through the rift that had been accidentally created when we came here, and return to defend our families from the Xathi.

  That was kind of an understatement.

  His zeal had pushed him to attempt to lead a mutiny.

  It had failed.

  General Rouhr had been within his rights to execute Thribb.

  But instead, he had shown mercy. And while Thribb had been confined, he had begun the process of counseling and creating instances of contact between himself and the humans.

  Thribb had made friends with several humans. He worked side by side with them. And he came to understand that, for the time being, we were residents here. Home was not an option for now.

  Rokul’s scales popped out, and a hiss escaped his throat as he slammed a well-dressed Terran against the wall. The human’s eyes widened in fear as Rokul said something I couldn’t make out.

  Putting my finger to my temple, I activated my short-range comm implant.

  “Sylor.”

  “Here, Commander.”

  “Go take over pat down duty at the entrance. The twins are getting a little restless.”

  “Understood. What should I tell them?”

  “Have them join Jalok’s group near the podiums. They can stand there and look intimidating all they want, but they’re getting too hands-on with their work at the door.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Sylor lumbered over to the entrance and spoke with Takar. Both he and his brother sent withering looks my way, but they did as they were told and moved to the back of the room near the debate stage. Sylor then began the pat downs. His sheer size alone should keep the peace, but if anyone got uppity, he was more than powerful enough to subdue them.

  Iq’her and Tyehn were on a slow patrol through the room, roughly opposite each other as they circled about the milling throng. Iq’her’s implants and Tyehn’s comm would allow them to stay in contact even if they couldn’t see each other. Hopefully, the two of them would be able to spot a problem before it fully developed.

  They had their work cut out for them. Most of the humans who glanced my way were wearing a sternly fixed frown of disapproval. The overall mood of the room was quite tense, like the air right before a storm.

  In order to allay any xenophobic outbursts from the humans in attendance, the moderator for the debate was a Terran. Dr. Evangeline Parr sat at a booth to the side of the podiums, going over datapads likely laden with different questions designed to spark intellectual but not inflammatory discussions between the candidates. Part of me rankled at the pandering to the anti-alienists, but at the same time I realized that every attempt must be made to keep the peace.

  It took nearly two hours for every guest to be carefully screened for weapons before being shown to the assembly floor. There were a few seats for the infirm or VIPs, but most of those in attendance would watch the debates standing. That was not good for security; if there wound up being a rush toward the stage, someone could get trampled to death.

  Of course, it was up to my team to prevent such a thing, if possible.

  When Vidia Birch walked onto the stage, a chorus of jeers rose up from the milling throng. Being the cool customer that she was, Vidia didn’t react, but I could see the tightness around her eyes. She smiled and waved at the few supporters that could make their voices heard above the aggressive din.

  Her opponent didn’t get much of a reaction. He was a Terran male who I was unfamiliar with, but I had been assured by those more skilled in things political that he was a moderate who was not likely to garner much support from the anti-alien movement. He smiled respectfully at Vidia, and Dr. Parr banged a heavy marble globe onto a flat metal plate to signal for silence.

  The crowd was rowdy and took several minutes to settle in. Parr wound up banging the marble several more times before the room was relatively quiet. I was a little bit worried. I hadn’t allowed my team to bring anything but non-lethal weaponry into the debate hall. Crowd control could be an issue, but a worse situation, where someone got shot, could be avoided altogether. Doubt gnawed at me as I considered whether or not I had made the right decision.

  Among those watching the debate from the VIP section was Phryne. I found my gaze lingering upon her russet head of hair. What would have happened the other night had I not passed out from inebriation? I had never been attracted to a member of a different species before. Of course, truth to tell, I had never been much attracted to anyone. Duty was my drug, and my lover, if you will.

  Or it had been. Now I struggled with my own instincts to do my job instead of stare at Phryne like a wistful school boy.

  Dr. Parr spoke into an amplification device on her desk. Her voice came out over the loudspeakers installed in the ceiling.

  “Welcome all sapients. This debate will help us determine our leader for the next term. Ms. Vidia Birch and her challenger Mr. Roji Gowron will answer questions selected from submissions made by members of the electorate. Are the candidates prepared?”

  “Yes.” Vidia’s voice throbbed with confidence, but I believed she was just as apprehensive about the tension in the air as I was. Quite a few boos greeted her answer, but Parr banged the marble gavel until there was silence once more.

  “I am ready, as well.” Gowron’s smile was friendly enough, but there was a craftiness in his eyes I didn’t like. Of course, to be fair, most politicians had that same cunning look, so I should probably refrain from judgment. Besides, my job wasn’t to vote here, it was to protect both candidates.

  “Very well, let us begin. Ms. Birch, you have the privilege of answering first. One of our constituents asks what your plans are to deal with the food shortage, being as the Puppet Master won’t allow for the use of fertilizer or other chemicals.”

  “That’s a great question, Doctor.” Vidia frowned as relentless boos echoed through the chamber.

  “Shut up, traitor,” shouted a man from the crowd.

  Many others took up the call, and soon a steady trai-tor sing-song chant built up. My team exchanged nervous glances. I could see Takar and Rokul stepping forward, hands reaching for side arms I hadn’t allowed them to bring in.

  “Order.” Dr. Parr slammed the gavel down again and again. “Order, or I will clear this chamber and
you can listen to the debate via transmission.”

  That seemed to work, and gradually the chants died down. Vidia was unperturbed and went right into her answer as if a near riot hadn’t interrupted her.

  “As I said, an excellent question.” Someone booed again but Sylor’s meaty paw on his shoulder quieted him right away.

  “It is vital that we in the government maintain a good relationship with the Puppet Master. We are literally walking about on his body right now, and it’s only fair that he have a say as to what is done to it. I am pleased to announce that our efforts to improve food production and distribution have met with great success, and we foresee an end to this situation soon. Thank you.”

  More jeers started up, but they faded when Dr. Parr beat the gavel. She posed the same question to Gowron. The milquetoast man’s smooth veneer might not have been incendiary from the outset, but he’d only finished about half of his answer when the crowd grew tumultuous once more.

  “Gowron is a pussy.” Laughter and agreement rolled over the rowdy humans in the crowd.

  “He’s a dirty alien lover.”

  The angry Terrans surged forward, pressing my security team back against the stage. Things were getting really ugly, really fast. I tried to find Phryne amongst the press of humanity, but I couldn’t see her.

  “Team Three, this is Sk’lar. Clear the room, now.”

  “But the debates have barely begun,” protested Jalok over comms.

  “Now. Before someone gets—“

  One of the anti-alienists seized a chair right out from under a VIP and hurled it at the stage. The missile went wide of its intended target—Vidia—but it sparked the fervor into a full-blown flame. Suddenly everyone was shouting, pushing, shoving, and brawling amongst the audience. Rokul and Takar dragged Vidia and Gowron off the stage as more improvised weaponry peppered the stage.

  “It’s getting ugly, Commander.” Sylor grabbed a brawling human by the nape of his neck, picked him up, and tossed him ten feet in the air to crash in a heap against the far wall.

  “Use necessary force to subdue the crowd, non-lethal methods only.”

  “Leave it to you to spoil our fun.”

  “That’s an order, Jalok. You are under no circumstances to rip out anyone’s jugular this time.”

  A group of anti-alienists charged my position atop the lofty perch I had chosen. If I remained standing atop it, they might topple me. So I made a split-second decision and leapt off right into the middle of them.

  Lashing out with feet, fists, and elbows, I spread broken bones and misery in a cloud about myself. Most of these agitators weren’t trained soldiers, and it showed. One good punch in the mouth and they crumpled like tinfoil.

  I wound up with a clear area about myself. I was just about to go check on Phryne when a medium-sized human stepped in front of me. Right away, I assessed that something was different about this man. His skin was glazed with a sheen of sweat, and his eyes flashed with a strange light I had never seen in a Terran’s gaze.

  Drawing up my leg, I snapped my foot forward in a vicious kick aimed at his solar plexus; a blow to a Terran there would leave him crumpled on the floor, struggling to breathe, but very much alive.

  My leg trembled from the solid contact, but the man didn’t go down. There was no reaction at all, no pain and no fear. He charged forward and got a hand around one of my wrists, and the other around my throat.

  I thought it would be easy to pry his grip away from mine; I outweighed him by eighty pounds, easily. However, I found that I couldn’t budge him. His fingers continued to tighten around my neck, making it difficult to breathe.

  My stimulator implant kicked in, sending a surge of amino acids through my bloodstream, which increased my fast twitch-muscle response. With difficulty, I pulled his hands away from my body, then snapped my head forward.

  My forehead cracked into the bridge of his nose with a wet pop akin to dropping a wet towel on the floor. The man fell backward, splinters of bone thrust through the skin on his bloody face. When he hit the floor, the strange light seemed gone from his eyes, and he stared up at me in confusion.

  Momentarily bereft of opponents, I checked the room and saw that Team Three had the situation nearly under control. Dozens of agitators lay prone on the floor, hands behind their heads as they were put under arrest. Civilian security bolstered our efforts, and soon there was nothing left of the riot.

  Except, that is, for spilled blood, broken furniture, and a sick feeling in my stomach that the worst was yet to come.

  Phryne

  I didn’t feel like myself as I walked into the conference room. General Rouhr was already there, his hand resting on the shoulder of Vidia, who looked like she’d shed more than a few tears over yesterday’s events.

  It wasn’t like Vidia to cry. Despite her incredibly kind outward appearance, she was almost as stony as I was when it came down to it.

  Tough as nails, she was.

  That’s a large part of why I enjoyed working with her. Vidia acted with conviction and was relentless, but what happened yesterday had clearly shaken her. It’d shaken me, too.

  Sk’lar was there, as well. He said nothing to me directly but subtly nodded for me to take the empty seat next to him. I silently slid into the seat and gave Vidia a smile that I hoped looked encouraging.

  The other leaders of General Rouhr’s strike teams took their seats. A few human women entered the conference room, as well. I recognized Leena DeWitt. She ran the labs in this building. She, and her carefully chosen associates, pumped miracles out of that lab.

  Beside her was a woman I didn’t recognize. Though her hair was dark, she bore resemblance to Leena. A sister or cousin, probably.

  Another woman entered and took a seat with the others. I recognized her immediately. Nesta Kane. At one point, I’d considered her a threat. She was a known criminal at one point, after all. Now she was one of our most valuable assets. Her links with the underground communities provided valuable insight to the daily struggle most people outside of our militaristic bubble had to contend with.

  Sometimes I forgot that the average person on Ankau was far more worried about where their next meal would come from or if they’d get one of the dwindling jobs than any of the issues I faced day after day.

  When enough side chatter drowned out the heavy silence of the room, I leaned closer to Sk’lar.

  “What are your thoughts on all this?” I asked in a low voice.

  “You’re allowed to talk to me normally, you know?” Sk’lar replied. “We’re teammates now. Communication is encouraged.”

  “Right.” I bit my bottom lip. “So, thoughts?”

  “We’ve seriously underestimated our opponents,” Sk’lar said heavily.

  “No one died. Those fanatics still haven’t killed anyone.” I said those words not just to make conversation, but to comfort myself. The security of the area fell to me and I’d allowed it to be compromised. I’d put Vidia in danger, I’d put Sk’lar in danger, and I’d put innocents in danger.

  “What’s that look on your face?” Sk’lar said.

  “What?”

  “It looks like doubt, but you’re the most self-assured person I’ve ever met, so that can’t be it.” He teased me, complimented me, and inquired about my well-being all in one sentence. Impressive.

  “I didn’t do my job well enough,” I said in a clipped tone.

  “That’s not true,” Sk’lar countered. “You thought of everything. It’s because of your instincts that we were able to keep the riot under control.”

  “I should’ve found a way to prevent a riot in the first place.” I clenched and unclenched my fists at the sides of my chair.

  “For all the measures you put in place, you couldn’t have controlled what a group of violent-minded individuals were going to do. Besides, I think there’s an extra variable involved that we aren’t fully aware of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  That was impossible. I knew all of
the variables. It was my job to know all of the variables.

  “I’ll talk about it more when the meeting starts.”

  “I’m your partner. Don’t I get a preview?”

  “We’re partners now?” A smile flickered at the corner of Sk’lar’s mouth.

  “Direct colleagues,” I corrected. “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t think I do. Enlighten me over a drink?”

  “Really? Now is so not the time.”

  “I know. I’m just trying to distract you from digging your nails into your palms.”

  I looked down. My hands were balled into tight fists. I released them immediately. Angry little half-moons marred my palms.

  “If there are no objections, I’d like to begin.” General Rouhr stood up. He kept one hand on Vidia’s shoulder as he spoke.

  “First, I’d like to begin by offering my thanks to everyone who worked so quickly to apprehend the instigators of the riot. They are being held and questioned as we speak.”

  “Shouldn’t one of us be down there doing the questioning?” Vrehx, the Skotan leader of Strike Team One, asked.

  “I specifically wanted everyone here for this,” General Rouhr said. “The elections are still happening on schedule. We’re not going to be intimidated by this sort of nonsense. But that means more gatherings like the one yesterday will be happening in our near future. The radicals will only get bolder from here on out.”

  “I have some observations on that front, sir.” Sk’lar stood up. It was quick, but a look of surprise came over General Rouhr’s face. Why would he be surprised? Wasn’t it Sk’lar’s job to have observations on this sort of thing?

  I dropped my gaze in an attempt to stop myself from overanalyzing everyone.

  “By all means,” the general nodded.

  “During the altercation, I fought one of the radicals,” Sk’lar began. “I noticed the obvious changes first. The human male I fought was not larger than average, but well-muscled, and angry. It was obvious he’d received some kind of formal training more advanced than what we’ve seen in the past. Yet he was sloppy in combat. Not because of lack of skill, but because of his anger. It was bordering on unnatural. There was this odd look in his eyes, too. Does that mean anything definitive? I’m not sure. But his eyes were strange enough to draw my attention in the heat of combat.”