The being closest to the window was a Cochkala, a mean, dangerous, badger-like species. It had finally had enough of the skinny, impolite, brown creature invading its personal space, and she had opened her mouth to, well, she hadn’t exactly decided what she was going to do yet, but probably roar a warning to get off her. It was ugly, smelled badly, and obviously had to learn some manners. When she finally made up her mind, she opened her mouth, inhaled deeply...and nearly choked on her own saliva.
From the brown creature’s neck hung a translation pendant, which was not uncommon for those who needed and could afford such a device. What was uncommon though, was the symbol that was inscribed on the back of it. Her eyes crossed, moved several directions at once searching for an escape route, and finally settled on the symbol again, disbelief temporarily turning her thoughts to a muddled mess of porridge. The symbol was easily recognized by all planetary members of the Galactic Union. It was the blue tree of an enforcer. The blue tree of the Peacemaker Guild.
It only took one more moment of consideration and decision-making for the Cochkala to decide she didn’t actually mind someone leaning into her personal space so much. That was partly due to the fact that the smelly, brown creature was an enforcer. It was mostly due to the fact that this particular enforcer appeared to be very focused and upset by something outside.
Without turning her head, which might have attracted unwanted attention, she let her right eye drift as far as it could toward the porthole and saw what the enforcer was looking at. She looked, saw the smoke, and understood. Caution, uncommon for her species, turned out to be the best decision she’d ever made.
Nik’Thil took a moment longer at the porthole, allowing his eyes to completely absorb the sight before him. In the distance, he could make out at least two other spots, very close to the city of Ka’Arash, his home, which had been touched by fire. The forest had begun to reclaim the scorched land, but the blackened skeletons of trees seemed to tear at his soul and scream for justice.
He finally stood, apologized to the Cochkala for the intrusion into her personal space, which she didn’t understand because she herself didn’t possess a translation pendant, and picked his way past talons, tentacles, and feet back to his seat. Kra’daar didn’t possess the physical ability to weep, but they could sulk, so that’s what Nik’Thil did. He closed his eyes, sulked, and rubbed the top of his bald head in contemplation.
I am an enforcer, he thought. Emotions do not hold sway over me. I answer the cry of peace. I obey my oath. I desire only balance. I love only order.
He then became aware of a new scent. Apparently there was a Karr aboard, a species whose primary form of communication was pheromones. It was filling the cabin with the odor of fear. Probably inadvertently caused by me, he thought sourly. It was not Nik’Thil’s intention to cause fear aboard the shuttle, but millions of years of evolution were difficult to overcome.
It took a lot of effort, but he was able to force himself to stop rubbing the top of his head and to relax. The fire was already burning, and there was nothing he could personally do about it. The firefighting drones were taking care of it, and the local government appeared to have enough to extinguish it before it grew too large. They had, after all, done this many times before, and far too frequently over the last few months. That’s why Nik’Thil had returned. He had to discover the source of the fires and stop it.
* * *
The small, furred creature breathed deeply, pure ecstasy causing it to shudder with pleasure. The slight breeze had shifted enough to bring the wonderful, acrid smell to the tiny nose in the center of its nearly featureless, black face.
Though it could not see the effects of its creation, it could smell them. The odor was intoxicating, and based on the number of beings running, flying, walking, crawling, and otherwise moving upwind, its creation was appreciated...again.
It felt satisfaction. On its home planet, no such feelings were available. There was only fear, hunger, and greedy anticipation of what the next day might bring. The sparse landscape of crags, rocks, and the occasional crystalline plant hid dangers not visible to most eyes.
It had never known the danger of drowning, and had nearly done so when the ship it had stowed-away in landed on this very strange planet. Soon after it snuck out of the ship, it began to be battered by something from the sky. The sensation wasn’t painful, but it was unexpected. It ran from the pelting, the touching, and the sensation that followed, which it now understood as ‘wet.’
After several such storms, with no shelter in sight save the huge, dangerous-looking things climbing from the ground, it finally decided the stuff would not kill it. The fluid was not dangerous, and the sensation was not terrible. It looked for the source. It wanted to understand. After several minutes of staring straight up, its mouth began to fill with the stuff, and it choked, coughed, gagged, and nearly drowned. The sensation of drowning was terrifying and was not an experience it wanted to repeat.
Then it noticed a being small enough to eat, and hunger overshadowed caution. It chose a spot inside of a storm drain and waited. The creature did not pass by for several minutes, and it was ready to go looking for the tasty-looking thing when it finally arrived. The creature squealed once and tried to fight it off, but a quick bite behind the head stopped the creature’s clawing and scrabbling.
It feasted on the flesh, the warm inner organs and the soft fur. Then it ate the bones. The only part it did not eat was the metallic object wrapped around the creature’s neck that had almost prevented its bite from quickly ending the creature’s life. It inspected the object, but did not know what it had found.
* * *
“Enforcer Nik’Thil,” the mayor said, bowing low. “We are grateful you have arrived so quickly. Was your trip uneventful?”
“It was,” Nik’Thil replied, bowing low, but not quite as low, toward Mayor A’Gath. ‘Eventful’ trips were bad, because to the Kra’daar it meant something bad had happened.
The mayor nodded and motioned to a female Kra’daar standing to his right. “This is Guardian Ta’La, Third-Chief of our Planetary Defense Forces. She has been investigating these fires, but instead of speaking for her, I think you two should speak.” The mayor bowed again, turned, and walked further into the great hall that served as his office. He approached a table, at which at least a dozen other Kra’daar were seated, arguing.
Guardian Ta’La bowed very slightly and very abruptly. Nik’Thil did the same. Formal greetings over, she said, “Please follow me to my office. We have much to discuss.”
Nik’Thil followed the guardian without a word and was a little surprised when she led him outside and into a waiting turbo-carriage, a kind of wheeled carriage that Humans might have compared to a big, red wagon. As soon as Nik’Thil seated himself, Ta’La raced off, pressing him firmly against the back of his padded seat. He tried not to react, but the ferocity at which she drove through the city was alarming.
Ta’La was either trying to impress him, he decided, or was unhappy he was there and taking over the investigation. Or she was just insane. Insanity wasn’t common among the Kra’daar, especially since joining the Galactic Union and gaining access to nanite technology, but it did happen. However, it was very unlikely an insane person would have been trusted with as much power as the guardian possessed.
“Please slow down, Guardian Ta’La,” he said just loudly enough to be heard over the wind that rushed past their ear-holes.
Ta’La turned to him and stared daggers. In the bright light outside—through a rare break in the clouds—the craggy skin on her face revealed her true age. Like the trees they lived with and relied upon, the skin of the Kra’daar became thicker and craggier with age. She was old—ancient even.
“Is that an official Union order, Enforcer Nik’Thil?” she asked, her voice gravelly with rage.
So, he thought, it was rage that caused her to drive this way. He opened his mouth to respond, but she used a foot to press on a small lever located on the f
loorboard. The turbo-carriage shot 10 feet into the air, hovered for a moment, then fell back to the road. Nik’Thil turned around and saw a very startled pedestrian hurrying across the road.
He turned back to Ta’La and barely contained his anger. “Yes,” he said evenly, “that is an official Union order. Slow down now, or I will have you removed.”
Guardian Ta’La obeyed by standing on the brakes, causing the turbo-carriage to skid sideways for nearly a 100 yards. Nik’Thil held onto his padded seat with both hands, and when the vehicle stopped, he glared at Ta’La in disbelief.
“Are you insane?” he asked.
Ta’La hesitated for a moment, mouth working soundlessly. “Instead of finding the source of the fires and destroying it, I have been assigned to babysit you,” she hissed. “You, a sapling, unaware of all the work I have done. Unaware of how you slow my progress. Unaware of the danger this planet is in. But you question me?”
Nik’Thil would not be drawn into an argument. He was a Peacemaker and did not have to justify his presence to anyone. He studied Ta’La’s face, watching the rage course through it. He noted her hand, positioned near her laser pistol, but not touching it. He was aware of several sets of eyes watching him—pedestrians and other drivers who’d pulled over to avoid being killed by the guardian. It was time to reassert his authority.
He leaned in closely enough to whisper into the guardian’s ear-hole. “Do not confuse my kindness with weakness, guardian,” he whispered. “We have the same goal. We want to save our forest from careless or malicious burning. Please don’t force me to do something interesting in front of these civilians who look to you for their safety and protection.”
The whisper was so unexpected and delivered with such confidence that when Nik’Thil leaned away and looked into her face again, the rage was gone. Instead of hatred and anger, she displayed a slack expression full of regret, understanding, and fear.
Ta’La looked around and noticed the eyes of the citizens on them. When she looked, several pedestrians suddenly remembered they had somewhere important to be, but others were too curious or stunned to tear their eyes away. She looked back to Nik’Thil, and then above his head. Over the tops of the tall, closely-spaced chrome buildings, the dark smear of smoke was just visible.
“Yes, Enforcer Nik’Thil,” she whispered. “Of course. I apologize.”
“Take me to your headquarters.”
“We’re here,” she said, waving a long-fingered hand toward the unremarkable, cylindrical building in front of them.
Nik’Thil craned his neck to look all the way to the top. It must be 200 stories tall, he thought to himself. “Which floor?”
“All of them,” she replied.
* * *
It held the source of its pleasure in its small, nearly hairless hand. The device had not existed on its planet, and before he killed and ate the very large creature, it had never seen one. It didn’t even know such a thing was possible.
Its little hands caressed the small object. It caressed the thing and held it against its face. It knew the object would be needed again, and very soon, because the creatures here would stop its creation. Then a thought occurred to it. Why should it wait? Why shouldn’t it make sure it never had to go a moment without pleasure? Why should it ever have to feel that way again?
Little eyes peered into the darkness, searching for an answer among the trash, twigs, and leaves the last rainfall had washed into its home. Why should it wait?
* * *
The lift that would take them to the top floor had obviously not been designed by the Kra’daar, but had been modified to accommodate their small stature. The small plate of metal which had been retrofitted to fill the gap caused by moving the control panel lower was tastefully installed and polished, but it was not equipped with the same fasteners as the rest of the lift, which made it look out of place. They didn’t stick out enough to get in the way, but just enough to be obvious to an observant viewer they were an afterthought.
The ride to the top floor was uneventful and quiet. Ta’La refused to look at him, even in the polished reflection of the lift’s door. A few moments later, the lift’s doors opened onto a chaotic, noisy scene that shocked all of Nik’Thil’s senses.
Nearly 100 Kra’daar were positioned in front of Tri-V displays situated throughout the expansive room. Most held a slate and some carried polymer boxes from one station to another for no apparent reason.
Two Oogar, eight feet tall, purple and hairy, yelled at a frightened-looking XenSha who seemed to be working furiously, trying to get their Tri-V display back online. Instead of displaying charts, diagrams, and camera feeds, theirs showed only a single bright line that danced in the air in front of them. The XenSha’s long, rabbit-like ears were tucked low, apparently in defense of what it thought was an imminent bite from the bear-like Oogar who were still yelling.
The XenSha’s many tentacles worked as fast as they could, but the purple beasts were having none of it. Of course, it was difficult to say whether they were angry or not. Oogar were not known for their subtlety. Everything about them was loud, whether they were angry, happy, or just plain bored. Nik’Thil considered approaching them to rescue the frightened XenSha, but Ta’La interrupted his thoughts.
“Do you want to walk around and talk to the others first,” she asked, “or do you want me to gather my key personnel to fill you in on what we have so far?”
Nik’Thil tore his eyes away from the Oogar. “Just fill me in,” he replied.
Guardian Ta’La nodded and snatched a slate from the hands of a passing Kra’daar who only looked offended for a split-second before he recognized who’d snatched the slate from him. Then he stood at attention and waited. His dark green uniform identified him as a fellow guardian, though the number of leaves on his sleeves indicated he was much lower in rank.
Ta’La swiped at the slate, poked it with a finger a few times, then gave it back. “They have been alerted,” she said. “They will meet us in the conference room shortly.”
Nik’Thil nodded and followed her back to the lift. They descended one floor and entered a long hallway. As they approached, a set of doors to their left opened silently, revealing a long, metal table. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he didn’t try to hide his disappointment.
“It’s the cost of progress,” Ta’La said, the disgust clear in her voice. Neither made a move to take any of the 30 or so seats surrounding the table. Each of those were also likely made of steel, but were painted the same color green as the Guardian uniform. Instead, they just stared.
“Are you old enough to remember the days when such meetings were held outside in nature?” she asked softly.
“I am,” Nik’Thil replied, just as softly. “Everything used to be done outside, under the trees, sitting in the moss or even the mud. There was no shame in it. There were no metal buildings.”
“We used to live among the trees,” Ta’La whispered. “And now it takes an hour of walking just to touch one. And for what?” Her tone had become angrier, he noticed.
No use beating around the bush. They both knew why their government had joined the Galactic Union. “Nanites,” he said simply. “The plague wiped most of us out and might have completely exterminated us if it weren’t for the nanites.”
There was a long pause before anyone spoke again; each was lost in thought.
“There are some who say the plague was caused by the Union to persuade us to join,” she whispered.
He had expected the conversation to turn in this direction but had hoped he would be wrong. “I know of the conspiracies,” he said flatly, turning to Ta’La. He allowed a bit of danger to creep into his voice and said, “I would advise you to subdue that kind of talk whenever you hear it. First, it’s not true, and second, talk like that could lead to a revolution. We both know what would happen then.”
Ta’La turned to face him and was about to answer when the doors opened and several Kra’daar hurried into the room, each carrying
something in his or her arms. All carried at least one slate, while others carried polymer boxes clearly marked as evidence. Ta’La watched them situate themselves around the table and unload their boxes. “Shall we begin, Enforcer Nik’Thil?” she asked, a coldness to her voice which conveyed their conversation was over...for now.
“Of course,” he replied, doing his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice. I desire only balance, he reminded himself. I love only order.
* * *
Little black eyes saw an opportunity, but it needed to get closer in order to be sure. It had never created against such a backdrop, but thought that, based on its experience, it would work. It also thought it would be beautiful. Its backdrop was a large structure near the center of the city. Large creatures were piloting vehicles with huge, hand-like devices attached to their fronts.
It had never seen, or possibly just never noticed, the purpose of these vehicles, but now the small creature began to breathe fast in anticipation and understanding. The vehicles with the large hand-like apparatuses were collecting trees!
It felt joy! Traveling from the storm drain to the forest was dangerous. It was always possible some larger creature, something too large for it to eat, would instead eat it! It didn’t want to be eaten, so it had to be very cautious. This, however, was different. After night fell, there weren’t as many creatures to worry about, and it could find a way into the building to create.
It would be close enough to smell its creation, too. It nearly vibrated with anticipation. Its hunger for creating raged in its mind. It’s small, black eyes stared at the cut trees entering the building. It couldn’t see how many trees were in there, but based on how many were being brought in, the creature thought there might be a whole other forest there. A forest to create with.
For a Few Credits More: More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 7) Page 35
