by Alma Boykin
Any other night, Shu-kara would have refused, would have filed a protest at such a dangerous assignment. Instead, her heart surged as she realized what a gift the Clan presented to her. Shu-kara bowed slightly, acknowledging the order and covering her excited shiver and tail sweep. The female walked quickly to the waiting vehicle and climbed aboard. One last Azdhag trotted up, clambering ungracefully in and throwing himself onto a bench as the trolley lurched into motion.
Twenty workers sat in the vehicle. Some read micro-texts that they’d smuggled in, others napped, and a few, including Shu-kara, stared out the windows. The trolley followed a carefully programmed route, winding among buildings and cargo depots before crossing a very large empty swath of pavement and stopping beside an isolated, windowless building labeled Two-sixes. All the structures on the spaceport/cargo depot bore signs saying the type of goods that passed through their doors except for this one. Even without a sign, anyone who worked at the port knew about Two-sixes.
The most dangerous cargo passed through Two-sixes. Radioactive materials in bulk, active fusion generators, semi-consumed rocket fuel en-route to be reprocessed, hazardous gasses and compounds in bulk, explosives in bulk, and even some animals bound for zoos or laboratories, all emerged from their shipping containers here. Shu-kara studied her new surroundings very closely. “Good. You are already paying attention. Wish more people did that,” a harsh voice growled and Shu-kara got her first sight of her new supervisor. “I’m Sath,” the scrawny Azdhag introduced himself? Herself? Shu-kara could not tell because of the protective jacket swathing the stick-thin cargo boss. “Follow me, don’t ask questions until I tell you it’s safe, and if you hear four hoots of the warning horn, run out that door,” and Sath’s battered tail remnant pointed to the left. “One long hoot means head for the bunker and don’t look back. Got it?”
“Four hoots is run for that door, long hoot means go to the bunker, and don’t ask questions until you say that it’s safe,” she repeated back.
“Very good. This way and keep your tail tucked in, like so.” Shu-kara pulled her own appendage around against her flank, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch. “Alternate sides or you’ll cramp,” Sath warned, not stopping.
By the end of the first night’s shift, Shu-kara had earned a good reputation from her fellow workers and also gained precious knowledge and information. She worked hard and carefully, always looking and never assuming that what she’d learned in the general cargo section exactly applied here. Shu-kara soaked up Sath’s words and found herself coming to admire the battered male. He knew his business and explained things well, showing her valuable tricks and techniques for moving and sorting the dangerous materials. He didn’t talk down to her and if he knew that she was supposed to be in disgrace, it never showed in his instruction or body language. Well, he could get hurt too if she made a mistake, Shu-kara told herself, not wanting to like anyone associated with Clan Shu.
Shu-kara thanked the Lone God for Shu’s vindictiveness. He’d punished her by sending her to the best place possible for her calling. Here Shu-kara could lay talons on every toxic, explosive, corrosive, and otherwise dangerous material that came onto or departed Drakon IV. The female buried her happiness deep in her heart, lest her coworkers notice it and wonder about her intentions or her sanity. They struck her as gruff but fair, and if they did not go out of the way to welcome her, they did not pick on or abuse her, either. By the time the sun began throwing long shadows across the enormous complex, Shu-kara knew without a doubt that she’d been sent to the best place possible. Now all she had to do was wait for the Lone God’s signal and keep from getting hurt or killed in an accident.
Well to the north of New Southdown, King-Emperor Seetoh studied the latest plantings in his garden and hoped for news from the Makers or from the troops on Pokara. He’d learned patience but did not enjoy exercising that skill. The black-green reptile noticed a piece of discarded log and he vented some frustration on it, tearing into the rough bark with steel-tipped talons. Bits of wood and sawdust scattered around him and he felt better for having reduced the tree trunk to kindling and dust. “Would you like the servants to set up a claw-log for you in your office, Imperial Majesty?” Prince Tsarli inquired from over his half-brother’s shoulder.
“No. I’d rather dismantle the trade treaty with Shan, thank you, sire’s son.” Tsarli moved well clear as the monarch turned around and walked back to his private reception room. “They are insisting on sending their own inspector to grade the goldgrain we export, prior to accepting it and paying. Which by treaty they have perfect right to do,” Seetoh shed his outer robe, tossing it at his brother. Tsarli caught it and handed the heavy garment to a servant while Seetoh sat firmly on a well-padded bench.
“Hhhffffff,” Tsarli hiss-whistled. “This is more Seedak’s prey than mine, but those clauses are always reciprocal, are they not?” As he spoke, the dark gray majordomo pulled his remote data link out of a pocket in his robe and called up the treaty. Seetoh gestured his permission and Tsarli sent the data to the room’s projector. The two reptiles scrolled past the usual opening formalities, then activated the search system. Well into the document they found the appropriate section. “Reciprocal,” Tsarli confirmed.
Seetoh called up the agenda for the next planetary council meeting and compared it to the next Imperial council agenda. “Trade rates are on both schedules. Tsarli, add a revision to the next iteration of the DeShan treaty negotiation. It will not come due for another year-turn, but I want the Foreign Minister, the Minister of Trade, and both councils to tear this apart and see what we can improve.” As Tsarli made notes, Seetoh added, “and see if there has ever been a quality or volume dispute involving our grain and produce exports.”
“Yes, Imperial Majesty,” the smaller reptile bowed. Seetoh excused him, then sent a note to the Foreign Ministry ordering them to issue a visa for a certified agricultural specialist from DeShan’s System, and to send a copy of all correspondence to the head of agricultural exports. The king-emperor read through the rest of the Foreign Office briefing, then turned his attention to the pressing matter of Pokara. The world had so much potential for development, Seetoh reminded himself yet again. And the Azdhagi made solid progress to bringing the inclement planet into the beginnings of order. Now, how to keep the Traders and whoever or whatever they supported out of the mix?
One sixt after the King-Emperor issued his orders, Kleet dragged himself home at the end of his shift and found Shu-kara still at home. “Moon of my trail, is something wrong?” All he could think of was that she’d become ill, or that the Clan had terminated her work position.
Instead she brushed against him, reassuring him, “No, mate of my heart, nothing is wrong. We get an additional day of rest every other sixt because of the high-intensity workload. So I’m off today as well as tomorrow.”
Kleet took off his work harness and put away his equipment, then sniffed. “Do I smell shootee?”
“Yes, you do.” Shu-kara all but bounced, unable to hide her excitement. “The bang and all the commotion yesterday before noon? One of the frozen provision warehouses lost partial power for three hours after a power diverter failed. So they had to sell off everything in two of the sub-freezers at cost. Sath, our supervisor, told all of us about it and as soon as shift ended we, the work-pack, pooled our money and bought sixty kilos of shootee, poultry, and even some of that imported ‘peef’ or however you say it!” Her eyes shone and Kleet wrapped his tail around hers, sharing her joy. “I’m braising shootee steaks for tonight, and then started a stew for tomorrow. There’s poultry and shootee in the freezer, and the ‘peef’ is marinating so we can grill it for the sunrise meal.”
Kleet nuzzled her muzzle. “You are the smartest, most thoughtful female on this planet, on any planet in the empire. And good for Sath to think so quickly of his work-pack!”
She gestured her agreement. “Sath marks good trails, love. Shall we mark the Lone God’s generosity by sharing in it?” Shu-k
ara stepped to the side a little, “Or do you want your shootee lightly charred in a black sauce?”
“No! That would be criminal negligence at the very least,” he informed his mate. She led the way into the tiny cooking area and they savored the unexpected bounties of both time and protein.
Four days later, all Shu-kara could do was mourn, standing solitary vigil in the Faith-keepers’ new temple and wailing her grief and misery to the Lone God. Year-turns before, an electrician installing wiring for one of the overhead cargo movers miswired a back-up power system. It passed the tests and no one had noticed the error, until Kleet climbed up to find out why, following some unrelated electrical work, five circuit breakers and shields for the cargo mover failed within as many days. His work-packsibs swore to Shu-kara that they’d turned off every circuit they knew of and she believed them. But that did not help Kleet, now dead and ashes after 16,000 kilo-Volts hit him, knocking him backwards off the work-walk twenty meters above the permacrete floor.
Shu-kara, daughter of Clan Shu and beloved mate of Kleet, died that night with her mate. Nothing remained for the weary, soul-shattered female but work and the Lone God’s duty. She accepted three days off of work, but she’d declined full mourning leave. “I thank you, but we are kinless,” she’d explained. Sath and his supervisor must have suspected something, but they did not challenge her. During her solitary vigil she renounced her lineage, and now “Kara” watched the first faint hint of sunrise appearing through the temple’s sun-portal and let her voice fade into silence. The others would be arriving for sunrise worship and Kara did not want their sympathy. She now knew why the Lone God called Kleet to the Great Hunt before her: so she could work without distraction and so that he would not fear or worry for her anymore. Thank you, great Pack Leader, she prayed yet again. Thank you for the vision and for that mercy.
Kara took her place with the other widowed females at the rear of the gathered packsibs. Roshee, making one last check of his assistant’s preparations for worship, saw her new place and grieved for her. The injustice of her and Kleet’s treatment by Clan Shu burned his heart yet again and the priest took a moment to still his thoughts, setting aside righteous anger for the gratitude and hope appropriate to the new day’s light. Many of the Faith-keepers took a moment to brush Shu-kara with their tail tips or to offer her words of comfort, Roshee noticed, and their care and concern pleased him. He knocked three times on the ancient wooden clapper, intoning, “Great Pack Leader, you who make our trail clear and who guides your pack to the best prey and the safe lair, we thank you for this day’s dawning,” as he began the service.
Kara returned to Section Two-Sixes that night. Sath watched her carefully, but his newest worker gave her tasks the full concentration and care they demanded. If anything the female seemed even more careful, especially when working around the others. Sath respected her focus and determination, as did the rest of Kara’s work-pack. “You doing OK?” big grey Kleek asked during break the next night.
“Yes, thanks. A little sore in the shoulder, but I’ll survive,” she told him. She’d overreached trying to grab and steer a malfunctioning anti-grav pad, pulling a muscle.
“Well, if you need a hand just let someone know, Kara,” he grunted, slapping her with his tail in a friendly way. “You’re a good packsib.”
“Thank you,” and she’d scuffed a little, as if embarrassed by the praise. He went back to reading the latest news-feed and she got up and visited the necessary. She’d found everything that she needed, and thought that she knew how to purify and destroy the Prey. Bless him, Roshee’s dawn sermon had given her the final bit of spoor that she needed to track her prey.
“The light clarified the track / light deepens shadow / dawn wind brings scent of the prey,” Roshee had chanted as he lit the last of the dawn incense. As he’d touched the fire-stick to the tip of the incense stick, a flash of vision, the strongest in years, had struck Kara and she’d almost fallen over from the force of the revelation.
Energy manipulation, or an attempt to manipulate how Azdhagi used energy, had led to the corruption and darkness and the coming of the Prey. But light, fire, and wind could burn out that darkness. Kara, once of Shu, once Kleet’s mate, had access to energy and wind, all close to the True Prey’s lair. She had felt the Lone God brushing her, confirming the rightness of her vision, and for the first time had heard His voice whisper, “Yes, this.” Still enrapt in the power of the vision, she’d barely heard Roshee’s benediction but had managed to recite the proper response.
Roshee worried about Shu-kara but he did not pursue her or press. She spoke less and less over the next sixt, withdrawing into a calm silence. Roshee almost envied her apparent tranquility and acceptance, wishing that he struggled less with his own doubts. The priest remained hesitant and uncertain how to proceed as the second Sign faded from view and memory. Rumors swirled that the Makers tracked evidence of a cure for bone-crush, if not for deathtouch, and the priest wondered. He knew just enough biology and medicine to doubt the truth of the rumors.
He’d also come across an old, forgotten commentary on Raknak’s Vision. The author warned in graphic terms that a false Prey might appear, leading all but the most discerning and humble to ruin. Roshee knew very well how false rumors led to woe, especially now. The riots and murders of Makers shook him, confirming his suspicion that the time of the Great Hunt approached. But should his pack withdraw to prepare for the Hunt, or warn others, or trust the Lone God’s scouts to give the signal for the stalk and chase? Roshee prayed for a scent or sign.
A few minutes’ quick walk outside the spaceport fence from warehouse Two Sixes, Maker Tsae started to ask Dardak for his results, but the blotched green reptile’s body language answered the question. The pathologist flopped onto an especially wide bench, rolling onto his back, eyes closed, talons clenched.
“I take it the test failed to provide the desired result,” bright green Tsae stated.
“Thhhhhhhpthhhh,” research pathologist’s tongue flapped out of the end of his muzzle. “The affected females die even sooner as a result of kidney failure or heart attacks caused by the calcium/potassium imbalance. And their zinc and manganese levels remain so far off the spectrum that my technicians have had to find a new graphing method.”
Tsae walked over to the window in the conference chamber and stared out at the industrial park and the back edge of the spaceport’s cargo section. “The good news, if you call it that, is that we have fifteen new volunteers for the trials, six males and nine females,” Dardak’s voice came from behind him.
“How many from Shu?”
“Two sixts.” The carefully neutral tone revealed the pathologist’s contempt and anger at the Clan’s behavior. “Yet Lord Shu maintains that the genetic alterations affected no one in the Clan.”
Tsae hesitated before asking, “Any truly good news?”
Tsae heard his colleague rolling back onto his belly. “I’m almost afraid to say it, but yes, there is. We’ve identified what is causing the metabolic malfunctions, and we have found two females that seem to manifest Healing abilities.” Dardak exhaled loudly.
Tsae turned away from the window and found Dardak setting his data pad on the table. A sequence of Azdhagi genetic material appeared, floating above the pad’s projector. The green-blotched reptile tapped the screen with a talon-tip and two segments of the helix turned yellow. “These are the problems, Tsae. This gene ties to color and metabolism, while this one relates to mineral sequestration and metabolic energy production.” He tapped some more and the image enlarged and rotated, while a second image appeared below it. “Top one is abnormal, or what used to be abnormal.” Dardak stepped back as Tsae poked his muzzle in for a better look.
“This one seems too short, if these are to scale,” and the chief Maker circled the gene in question with his talon. “Is it damaged?”
“Yes, but it is a ‘silent gene,’ or it rather we thought it was. We’re calling it Bl-2 because it seems to bind me
tabolism and pigmentation together. Bl-1 must exist on the female chromosome, but we’re not looking for it yet,” Dardak reported. “If the males survived deathtouch, they’d die of bone-crush.”
Tsae’s forefeet flickered in a warding off gesture. “But not all females have bone-crush. So it is recessive?”
“I don’t know, sir, and I’m not worrying about that just yet. What I want to know is if we have enough people skilled enough to repair this in a heritable way,” and Dardak circled Bl-2.
Tsae stared at the tiny source of so much woe. “Yeeesssss, we do. If we can pull everyone from the colonies, grab all the military medics as well, and pull in the animal and plant technicians. That gives us at least ten, fifteen thousand who can splice and replace, if we have enough clean donors, and if we can find every affected Azdhag who wants to reproduce.”
“By the Lone God’s talons, that’s going to take, well, mobilizing every Azdhagi!”
Tsae gestured his agreement. “Yes, it will, and we will have to have his Imperial Majesty order and enforce it. But it is the only chance we have to keep our population intact.”
For the second time in their lives, Tarkeela and Kirlin agreed on something, although they did not know it. “Are you insane?!?” Kirlin thundered at the document on his computer screen. “The Makers want every reptile on this planet to submit to their testing and manipulation? After what they did to us?” Only his sense of self-preservation kept him from smashing the offending document and the screen under it; he didn’t want bits of metal in his forefeet again.
At almost the same instant, hundreds of kliqs away, Tarkeela’s tail slammed down onto a cushion so hard that the seams gave, sending tree-fluff squirting into the air to drift down like snow. “Is he insane?” the grey-brown noble hissed. “The out-Clan will never do it, even if every single Clan Lord were to agree to resign and the Clans dissolved.” King-Emperor Seetoh proposed nothing less than forcing every single Azdhag into service of the state, and Tarkeela could easily imagine the uproar. Cheerka and Tarkeela’s other ears and eyes among the out-Clan reported more and more unrest, more Azdhagi turning to strange sects of the Lone God, more attempting their own cures. The peacekeepers in Zhangki City arrested a mind-sick male who claimed that the True-dragons knew the cure but refused to give it to the Azdhagi, because the True-dragon Houses had unleashed the diseases in a plot to kill off the Azdhagi so that the Houses could seize the Empire. Fortunately, many other Azdhagi knew of the male’s pre-existing mind-sickness, but what if he’d been in Sea Gate?
