Sk'lar

by Elin Wyn

  That’s one of the things that made Sk’lar great. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t judge me for my weird upbringing because he didn’t have anything to compare it to. I bet his upbringing was just as weird as mine, if not weirder.

  “You’re doing that thing where you’re too deep into your head.” Sk’lar’s voice disrupted my thoughts.

  “What?”

  “You’re supposed to be working on living in the moment,” he reminded me. “Were you thinking about work?”

  “No, actually.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That sounds like a personal problem.” I took another long sip of my drink.

  “Cut her off after the next one, Clynt,” Sk’lar said to the bartender. “There. Now it’s his responsibility.”

  “Don’t make me incapacitate Clynt.”

  “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

  “Nothing,” I deflected. “Just how it’s nice to have another friend. You might not know this, but I don’t hang out with people that often.”

  “Really? I would’ve never guessed.”

  “Glad you’ve got the hang of sarcasm.”

  “Glad you’re getting used to friendship.”

  I let the conversation fall into companionable silence. I could’ve said something about how it’s nice to have a level of intimacy without any strings to get caught up in. Sk’lar and I hadn’t done anything yet. Not really. But there was an air of intimacy around us that I was happy to bask in.

  Uncomplicated and beneficial. That’s how I liked things.

  “They’re covering today’s debate.” Sk’lar jerked his chin toward a glass panel mounted on the wall behind the bar. The footage of today’s debate glowed in the dark space.

  “Do you pay attention to all those speeches and debates?” I asked.

  “I don’t have the time,” Sk’lar shrugged. “We’re on high alert during those events. I don’t get to listen much.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Really? I’d think that, as Vidia’s right hand, you’d know all of her speeches from memory.”

  “I’d like to,” I admitted. “I’m not technically her right hand. I just manage security.”

  “You’re her right hand.”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s not bad to get close to people, you know?” Sk’lar prodded. “It’s okay to acknowledge that you’re important to Vidia.”

  “If I say something, will you promise not to get offended?”

  “Even if I do, there are many ways you can make it up to me,” he winked. My cheeks flushed. Maybe tonight I’d drag him back to my place and make sure he took off more than one boot.

  “I’ve only been around aliens for a few months, but I always got the sense that the K’ver were very reserved,” I said.

  “You’re not wrong,” Sk’lar replied. “Skotans and K’ver are more reserved compared to humans. It’s not part of our culture to be overly expressive.”

  “Yet you’re quite insightful,” I pointed out.

  “Just because we don’t openly express all of the emotions in our repertoire doesn’t mean we don’t feel them and learn from them.”

  “Of course.” I shut my eyes as I realized how stupid I sounded.

  “My strike team and I are family,” Sk’lar continued. “That’s why we’re able to be as effective as we are.”

  “That sounds a lot like the orphanage,” I blurted.

  “The what?”

  Shit. I hadn’t meant to bring that up. I didn’t like people knowing I’d grown up an orphan. It invited pity. I had no use for pity.

  “Orphanage. It’s a place where children are sent to grow up after their parents die.”

  “Oh.” Sk’lar frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I curled over my half-empty drink. “I barely remember them.”

  “But there were others? And they became your family?” Sk’lar prompted.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you understand what it’s like for me and my team.” He gave me a reassuring smile. I found myself smiling back. I could’ve kissed him for not dwelling on the whole dead-parents-thing.

  “Well, how ’bout that,” Clynt the bartender spoke, drawing our attention to the broadcast.

  “What is it?” Sk’lar asked.

  “A candidate just changed his whole platform.”

  “What?” I demanded. “Who?”

  A man appeared on the panel. He was a portly individual with snow-white hair everywhere but the very top of his head.

  “That’s Dashiell Fox.” I frowned. “He and Vidia never worked together directly, but they’ve interacted in the past.”

  “Friend or foe?” Sk’lar asked.

  “I always put him in the friend category. What platforms is he changing?”

  “Let’s find out.” Clynt walked over to the panel and turned off the mute. Other patrons complained about the sudden lack of music, but Clynt waved them off.

  “It’s come to my attention,” came Dashiell Fox’s voice through the speakers, “that other candidates would have us hand over our freedoms to the invaders. I’m here to tell you that I will not stand for it. That’s why I’ve decided to change my campaign for Head Councilman. Our planet is a ship that’s been caught in a terrible storm and it needs someone at the helm who will steer it back to calm waters. That starts with getting the invaders out!”

  “Invaders?” I sputtered. “He can’t be talking about you and the others.”

  “Sounds like he is.” Sk’lar worked his jaw as he watched the panel.

  “Vidia met with Dashiell last month. He wasn’t anti-alien at all,” I objected. “He shared many of Vidia’s viewpoints.”

  “Apparently something’s changed,” Clynt commented.

  Through the speakers, we could hear the mixed reactions of the people gathered around Dashiell Fox. They also seemed confused by Fox’s sudden change in opinion.

  “That makes no sense,” I muttered.

  “You’re telling me,” Sk’lar replied.

  “It’s not just the fact that he’s switched to being anti-alien all of a sudden,” I pressed. “If he wanted to do this, why didn’t he step forward immediately after the riot and cash in on the tension? That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Why wait until after the threat is past?”

  “Perhaps this is his way of stirring up trouble,” Sk’lar suggested.

  “He’s only put himself at a disadvantage. Most of the planet is fine with having you, General Rouhr, and everyone else here.”

  Dashiell Fox finished his speech with a flourishing sentiment about human integrity. The applause that followed fell far short of thunderous.

  The camera zoomed in on Dashiell Fox’s face.

  “Does he look all right to you?” I asked Sk’lar.

  Beads of sweat were collected on Fox’s upper lip and forehead. His face looked unnaturally red, like he was under strain.

  “Did you see that?” Sk’lar said suddenly.

  “See what?”

  “His eyes. Clynt, can you go back?”

  Clynt messed with the panel and rewound a few seconds.

  “Watch,” Sk’lar instructed.

  I started into the muddy eyes of Dashiell Fox, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then I saw it, a strange flash.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s the same thing I saw when I was fighting during the riot,” Sk’lar said.

  “We’ve got to show this to General Rouhr and Vidia. This could be something huge.”

  I knew the two weeks of peace were too good to be true.

  Sk’lar

  General Rouhr and I stood near his office window, staring down at the cluster of activists clogging the streets. Some of them were carrying signs scrawled with anti-alien propaganda. Security forces maintained a close watch on the group, but they had gotten cagier since the brawl during the debates. No one made an overt enou
gh call to violence to get themselves detained.

  “Unreal.” Rouhr’s voice rumbled from his barrel chest. The scar on his face made his scowl all the more imposing as the activists marched past. “Don’t these fools realize that in order to survive here we all must pull together?”

  “Emotion often overrules reason in humanity.” I winced, realizing that Rouhr himself was involved with a member of the Terran species. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Don’t be. You said nothing inaccurate.” A brief grin flashed over his face before the shouting below melted it away. “Although I believe that particular failing is not just limited to the Terrans.”

  “True enough.”

  Gradually, the march moved on out of our view, flanked by security forces. We continued to stand watch in silence for a time, lost in our own thoughts. The general broke the respite first.

  “That’s the third protest in two days.”

  I nodded grimly. “The anti-alien movement appears to be gaining steam. I’m afraid that Dashiell’s sudden change of heart has emboldened them.”

  “We cannot lay all of this at the candidate’s feet.” Rouhr turned to regard me, an inscrutable expression on his craggy face. “It is always easier to sell hate and fear rather than reason and cooperation. The history of dozens of sapient worlds bears that out.”

  I grunted and turned to watch the sun as it sank toward the horizon, casting red gold light over the sleek buildings.

  “I admit I found the idea of alliance with other species to be…distasteful. At first.”

  Rouhr laughed softly and arched an eyebrow at me.

  “And now? Do you still harbor such resentments?”

  “No. My time leading team three has taught me that members of all species can be helpful…or, to use a Terran phrase, an enormous pain in the ass.”

  Rouhr gave in to full-on mirth, and even clapped a hand on my shoulder.

  “Ah. And here I thought it was your dalliance with the lovely Commander Manka that changed your perceptions.”

  I looked at him sharply, my heart rate increasing. What had people been saying? Had Phryne been speaking about me without my knowledge?

  Rouhr chuckled and held up his hand, palm outward.

  “Relax, Commander Sk’lar. No one is gossiping about you and Phryne. It’s just obvious to those of us who have experienced such attraction.”

  This whole conversation made me uncomfortable, so I changed the subject.

  “I am still bothered by Dashiell’s sudden reversal of position.”

  Rouhr indulged me and dropped the previous discussion.

  “As am I. Not only that…the venom, the vitriol which he spewed is vastly out of character for him. I’ve met the man, attended government get-togethers with him. He’s never so much as batted an eye at other species sharing his space.”

  “Not only that, but his eyes had the same glow I saw during the riot at the debate. Do you think that there is some sort of environmental factor? Perhaps spores or something from the local flora and fauna?”

  Rouhr pursed his lips, eyes narrowing as he considered my words.

  “I certainly hope not. Our alliance with the Puppet Master should prevent things of that nature from occurring.”

  “Assuming he—it—is being on the up and up with us.”

  Rouhr sighed and rubbed his eyes, seeming quite tired all of a sudden.

  “We have to proceed from the position that it is playing straight with us. Unless there is incontrovertible proof to the contrary, the Puppet Master is our ally.”

  That shut down any argument I might have made, but I couldn’t just let the notion go.

  “Is it a possibility that this phenomenon is occurring without the Puppet Master’s direct involvement? Some sort of genetic abnormality that makes certain individuals vulnerable to the environmental factors?”

  “Perhaps.” Rouhr shook his head and seemed to sag, as if bearing a heavy weight. “But in my completely unverified opinion, I believe this is all too convenient to be written off as chance or coincidence.”

  “Yes. Every time, it’s been a human who has been affected.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines that every outburst has only served to help the anti-alien movement.”

  I closed my mouth while I pondered his words. He was right, of course, but that didn’t do anything to allay my concerns. It only raised new ones.

  “I suppose we shall have to wait until Fen completes her research.”

  Rouhr turned away from the window and walked behind his desk, settling into his chair with palpable relief. I wondered if he’d been sleeping at all lately.

  “Indeed. Until she does, I am afraid I simply cannot decide on a course of action. Without her information, we cannot take any further decisive steps.”

  I remained at the window, watching the sun creep down below the horizon, while Rouhr picked through various datapads on his desk. I was sure both of our thoughts were equally troubled.

  Oddly, Phryne’s red-maned face kept popping into my head. Was what we had purely physical?

  I’d thought so at first, but now I was uncertain.

  Surely she would not linger in my thoughts so much without some further connection? Or was I being a fool, imagining different parameters for our relationship than actually existed in reality?

  I knew I wanted her. Wanted to be with her, wanted her to be safe and happy.

  But what did all of that mean?

  My musings were interrupted by a loud, dissonant chime from the comm unit on Rohr’s desk. I recognized it as a priority alert. He quickly activated the receiver, concern knitting his scarred brow.

  “This is Rouhr. Report.”

  “General, we’re receiving a priority-one request for assistance from Einhiv. An anti-alien protest has grown violent and local security are struggling to maintain control.”

  I stepped away from the window, adrenaline already starting to flow.

  “I can gather my team in minutes.”

  Rouhr nodded and spoke into the comm.

  “Prepare to open a rift to Einhiv for Team Three—“

  “No, belay that order.”

  Both of us jerked our heads toward the comm unit in confusion. Not because we didn’t recognize the voice—Fen’s particular diction was hard to forget—but because she’d just countermanded the order of the highest-ranking officer on the planet.

  “Explain yourself, Fen.” Rouhr, to his credit, didn’t seem angry at the counter-command, just confused.

  “I don’t have time to go into it right now, but opening a rift would be extremely dangerous. Einhiv will just have to wait for reinforcements the old fashioned way.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Rouhr held up a hand to stop me.

  “Very well, Fen. I trust your judgment in this matter.”

  “Thank you, General. I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t absolutely vital.”

  “Sir, with all respect, lives could be lost before we mobilize traditional transport to Einhiv.”

  “I am aware of that, Sk’lar, but I’m also aware of the fact that Fen never does anything without a good reason. Team One is on maneuvers in that vicinity. I will dispatch them to deal with this crisis.”

  He relayed the order while I paced about, eager for action. As soon as his call was done, I spoke once again.

  “General, we must find a resolution to this phenomenon, and soon.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Should we speak with Fen, then?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “No, if she didn’t have time to speak over comms, I don’t want to disturb her research further. But there is another expert in the field of human biologics we can confer with.”

  “You mean Dr. Parr, don’t you?”

  “The same.” Rouhr rose from his seat and straightened his uniform with a downward jerk of his hands. “Come, Commander. Let’s see what Evie can tell us about this situation.”

  I fell into step beside him, hoping that
Dr. Parr could provide enlightenment. I’d much rather be busting heads with my team in Einhiv, but orders were orders.

  Phryne

  “Evie’s making me come in for a checkup,” Vidia announced as she strolled into my office that afternoon.

  “Why are you telling me?” I asked without looking up.

  “Because if I need one, that means you need one. We got ours together last year, remember?”

  “No, I don’t. How do you remember that?”

  “Because I’m diligent about the health of my friends.”

  “Friends or the person that keeps you from getting killed every other day?”

  “You’re both. Come on.”

  “I can’t.” I gestured to the stack of datapads on my desk. “I have all these reports to go through.”

  “You sound just like Rouhr.” Vidia rolled her eyes. “Want to know something cool about datapads? You can pick them up and carry them out of the office. Let’s go.”

  Evie Parr was waiting for us when we walked in.

  “You owe me ten credits,” Vidia said to Evie with a proud smirk.

  “Damn it.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Evie didn’t think I could get you to walk away from your desk in under twenty minutes,” Vidia explained.

  “Only because I brought my desk with me.” I held up three datapads to prove my point.

  “Doesn’t matter. I still win.”

  Now that the wager was solved, I hunkered down in a chair while I waited for Evie to examine me. However, she didn’t get the chance.

  General Rouhr and Sk’lar strode into the clinic.

  “Hello, darling,” Vidia beamed. General Rouhr leaned down to kiss the top of her head. I was used to them subtly touching one another in meetings or during speeches, but I’d never seen them display this level of affection so openly. I felt a pang of something in my chest that I couldn’t identify. I wasn’t disgusted with them, but I was uncomfortable. A little hollow.