Kharmic Rebound

by Yeager, Aaron

  Gerald looked out at the crowd. The boys were pointing, some of the girls were covering their eyes, while other girls looked on with flushed fascination.

  Instinctively Gerald looked down, and found that he now appeared to be completely naked. He dropped the tablet and curled over, covering himself as best he could. Some of the girls began cheering in approval at his muscular, sculpted physique. It only took three seconds for nearly seven thousand images to be recorded and uploaded into the school’s net site.

  In the crowd, Ilrica blushed from head to toe, while Zurra cheered and threw some credit chips up on stage.

  “Woo Hoo! That’s my bride! Shake it, baby, shake it!”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Gwof said to himself. “You could grate cheese on those abs.”

  Mister Wonthreen, why is Gerald... naked? Cha’Rolette asked as she covered her face and looked away, blushing brightly.

  “Technically he is not naked. He is just wearing traditional Mauflaxxian wedding attire.”

  Which consists of?

  Gwof cleared his throat. “Earrings.”

  Gerald was beyond humiliated as he stood before the jeering crowd, as naked as the day he was born, except for a very stylish pair of earrings.

  “I swear I’ve had nightmares just like this,” he said as a credit chip hit him in the head.

  * * *

  Only the most trusted men of the Ssykes family stood in the stasis vault as the final locks were opened, revealing the silver flask within. Their high-class business suits clashed with their overly muscled physiques and tattooed skin. Arevaz had just recently been inducted as a full-fledged capo, his lips still stained purple from the oath fountain.

  “So, have you ever seen this guy?” he asked, looking around in amazement as he set down a crate.

  Solub chewed on the cigar nub tucked in the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never seen him, no one has.”

  “I don’t imagine he’d be a very good agent if he showed his face,” Izazulu mused as he set down the last crate of explosives.

  Rog checked the detonation caps and eyed the silver flask. “I sure hope the boss knows what he’s doing. This stuff is wicked dangerous, even at this price.”

  “Some kind of protection can’t be bought with just cash,” Seedoon advised. The rest of them knew better than to ask further. In a galaxy full of overzealous law enforcement, there was no protection more perfect than ignorance.

  Suddenly the vial vanished right in front of their eyes. No portal, no aetheric wake, it was simply gone, as if it had never existed. Arevaz was so surprised he stepped towards it, but his pants fell down around his ankles, and he came crashing down to the vault floor.

  The rest of the men laughed heartily.

  “What the trakk was that?” Arevaz asked, pulling his pants back up. The suspenders had been cut clean through.

  “Ah, that’s their agent’s calling card,” Solub explained. “Happens every time to the new guy.”

  “You could have warned me.”

  Rog smacked him on the back. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Grazoarl said. “Last time their agent got me.”

  Solub spat out his cigar. “Okay, clear it out.”

  One by one, the air folded around the men and they were all gone, save for Solub. He took out his lighter and caught the corner of his handkerchief on fire. Tossing it onto the pile of explosives, he folded himself out just as the fire spread to the detonators.

  * * *

  Ilrica’s dorm room was shredded, as if a cat the size of a truck had sharpened its claws against every conceivable surface. After her first week at the academy, the cleaning robots had gone on strike, refusing to go into her room any more, which she appreciated. Bertulf hygiene required time and privacy, and she valued both.

  But like most things she did, there was a pragmatic side to it as well. Her room was filled with hundreds of vials containing genetic samples and dozens of genome sequencers, working silently day and night. There were priceless genealogical records stolen from the academy vaults and stacks and stacks of hollow tablets used to shuffle around the materials. She had a regular little cottage industry going in her room, and the last thing she needed was some little robot stumbling onto all of it.

  And now, the most dangerous thing she had ever possessed. Eleven liters of nano-mimetic gel. It sat in a silver flask between her legs as she meditated deeply at the center of the fire ring she had laid out. Deeper and deeper, the air before her folded in on itself, the necass she generated pushing harder and harder against the fabric of the aether. Sweat rolled down her cheeks, a trickle of blood came out of her nose. This was Kenila Kaa’ro, the most sacred ceremony of the Bertulf, and she was terrible at it.

  Her body strained as she pushed harder. The wound she was creating in the air grew deeper and deeper. Her muscles trembled, her vision began to blur. Just before she lost consciousness, it punched through.

  There was a rush of air in the well before her. The candles and flame were snuffed out. Air and bits of dust fell in from all sides. It was only a few molecules wide, but it led to a place half way across the galaxy.

  Ilrica wiped her nose and tried not to be disappointed in how small it was. She had seen hunting parties as small as six create a wind tunnel big enough for a full grown hunter to walk through. It didn’t matter anyway; anything larger than this and the academy’s defense grid would pick it up and shut it down.

  Ilrica took out a little device and plugged it into the back of her neck. There was no way she would entrust something as sensitive as this to standard waves. Even the best encryptions could eventually be sliced through, given enough time, and time was not on her side.

  A beam of energy came off the device and was sucked into the well. A window opened up in the air before her, and she waited for the other end to be established.

  She was so excited she could scarcely breathe. She bounced her knees up and down like a little kid as she waited. All her months of work, all her years of loneliness were about to finally come to an end. She could almost taste the meat of the feast already, and she smacked her jaws at the thought of it.

  The device chimed and Liufr Ivaylo appeared in the window. His sharp eyes scanned the edges of it distastefully. Ilrica stopped her bobbing and became deadly serious.

  “I have the package,” she said in her native tongue.

  Liufr sniffed. She never had learned their tongue properly, and what’s worse, she had developed a bit of an accent after living at the Academy for so long. He clearly disproved of both.

  “Does it have the rest of the samples?” he asked back in their snarling language.

  “Yes, the east wing had frequent sweeps after the explosion, but I managed to get the last of them. They’re being processed now. How shall I pass the package?”

  “This time they’ve made it too easy. There is a goodwill tour being sponsored by the academy. One of their first stops will be our old hunting grounds at Orthiax. Make sure you are on it.”

  The window closed, and the wind tunnel folded in on itself and vanished. Liufr was his usual acerbic self and it bothered her a little. She thought she had long ago lost the desire for praise and respect, but being around Dyson so much as of late had spoiled her to such niceties.

  “...Dyson.”

  Ilrica fell back and looked up at the shredded ceiling tiles. A part of her had hoped to slip away without ever having to see him again. Another part of her was terrified at the thought that she might never see him again.

  She had never felt this way about anyone before. She didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know if she could handle it. A part of her wanted nothing more than to explore such feelings. Another part of her knew that to do so was insanely dangerous.

  “Dyson is going to be on that tour...”

  She rolled over, and convinced herself to find another way to get to Orthianx. Sure, there would be trouble for deviating from orders, but once her mission was over with
, none of that would matter anymore.

  “Everything has to be for the mission, all for the mission,” she chanted to herself. “Just finish the mission. Then you can be happy... right?”

  She wrapped her arms around her knees and curled up into a little ball. Her green eyes were uncertain.

  “Come on, trucc it up! Get it together! You are about to become a real hunter. You are about to get everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed of. You don’t need him... right?”

  She wrapped her tail around herself sadly.

  “If I’m about to get everything I wanted... why don’t I feel happy?”

  * * *

  In his extravagant office, E’Duwag Honrinar Ssykes sat coolly before a bevy of windows, filled with high ranking officials and senators.

  Look, I don’t care how busy you are. You have the resources and the duty. Find out who torched my facility or you’ll be collecting your severance packages after the next election!

  As the windows closed amid a stream of simpering apologies, E’Duwag leaned back and activated the stasis field. How was my performance? Convincing?

  Jonarl nodded and held up three of his arms. “It was very good. I give it three thumbs up.”

  Only three?

  His desk chimed and he brought the field back down. A window appeared with Cha’Rolette in it. She looked like she had not slept in days.

  What do you want? You know you can’t call this line without an appointment!

  Father, I am taking a leave of absence in order to accompany my classmates on the goodwill tour. My handlers will not be coming with me.

  His cigar nearly fell out of his mouth. I didn’t give you permission to...

  I am not asking for your permission, I am simply affording you the courtesy of informing you of my decision. I have forwarded my schedule to your secretaries.

  Without another word she ended the transmission and the window closed.

  * * *

  Inside her clean and orderly dorm room, Cha’Rolette nearly collapsed. She had to place her hands on the table before her to keep from falling over. She gasped for breath, her chest heaving in panic as her ta’atu trembled.

  I... I did it. I actually did it.

  * * *

  Back in his office, E’Duwag looked over at Jonarl, his face a mix of shock and admiration. Did you hear that, Jonarl?

  The enormous bodyguard nodded. “Takes real tralls of steel to speak to E’Duwag Honrinar Ssykes that way.”

  Yes it does, E’Duwag said as he leaned back in his chair and took a long draw on his cigar. Yes it does... and it’s about time, too.

  “She’s nearly ready.”

  * * *

  Ilrica flopped down in her chair in the cafeteria, picking absentmindedly at the pile of food on her tray. For some reason she didn’t feel like hunting today, so she had loaded up her tray with kamanchhi, turnips, and lemons. She set down the silver vial next to her tray and tipped it back and forth with her claw.

  “Whatcha’ got there, Faolan?” Ungliss asked, settling down next to her, his cloud-like form flashing orange and green.

  “Oh, you know, just some braxxian soup,” she said, lazily unscrewing the top of the vial. “You want some?”

  “No thanks.”

  Ilrica shrugged and screwed the cap back on. “Your loss.”

  Ungliss set down a bowl full of glowing mist before him. “You know, nearly the entire academy is in celebration at seeing Dyson go,” he observed as he took a sip.

  “Good riddance, I say.”

  “You seem to be the only one who isn’t celebrating.”

  Ilrica looked up at the window displaying the embarkation ceremony. A crowd of students was cheering; banners waved as Gerald and Trahzi were escorted up the ramp of the waiting ship by campus security.

  “Do you know Mahon Damal from class 3A?” Ungliss asked.

  “Which one is Mahon?”

  “You know, purple, long tail, red mane.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “Reproduces by self-fertilizing.”

  “Oh, HER.” Ilrica stuck her tongue out. “You know, it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if she weren’t so up in everyone’s face about it. Like it makes her better than everyone else or something.”

  “Yeah, well, my first quadmester, I had the biggest crush on her.”

  Ilrica’s tail swished curiously. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Ilrica smacked her lips distastefully. “But why?”

  “I dunno, maybe I’ve got a thing for purple. My parents wanted me to court her, naturally. Her people have the most fertile terellian mines in the sector. My family was only interested in a political marriage, but one look at her and I knew I wanted more than that.”

  Ilrica picked up a kamanchhi and took a bite. “So, what did you do?”

  Ungliss sighed. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I was a coward. I just sat on the sidelines, pretending I didn’t care, telling everyone I wasn’t interested in her. I was too afraid to get in the arena and fight for her.”

  Ilrica’s tall ears twitched. “So what happened?”

  Ungliss took another sip. “She’s engaged to Harec Prod now from class 4B.”

  Ilrica looked up at the window again as Gerald was shoved inside the starship, his flapping chicken thrown in after him.

  “It’s easy to sit in the stands,” Ungliss explained. “It’s safe. Sooner or later, you have to get up on stage, and cast your lot.”

  Ilrica’s ears fell down as she looked at the screen. “What if you fail?”

  Ungliss nodded. “You very well might, but I’ve learned this much. If you stay on the sidelines, someone else will claim him, and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you had tried.”

  Ilrica looked at him sidelong. “Him? I thought we were talking about Mahon?

  “Oh, we are.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Ilrica resolved something within herself. She stood up and stretched, letting off a long howling yawn. “Well, I best be off.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She snatched up the silver vial. “I just realized I’m sick of this place. It’s too academic for me. Too many treg-heads. I’m going to go on a vacation.”

  She tore off her student badge from her sleeve and tossed it on the table. “Turn that in for me, will you?”

  “Will do.”

  And with that, she vanished.

  Ungliss took another sip of his soup knowingly. “Good luck, Faolan. Go get him. Fight for him. Us cowards will be cheering you from the sidelines.”

  * * *

  The Kalia Greir swam away from Central like a stubby eel. Within seconds they were already past the outer markers of the system and making their way towards Orthiax.

  The air on the spacious bridge was beyond tense. Gerald looked to his left, where Trahzi stood, fumes rising up off of her shoulders and hair. He looked over to his left, where Zurra stood angrily, bubbles rising through her body like a boiling pot of water.

  Gerald sighed. “How did it end up like this?”

  Trahzi scowled. “Why do we have to be paired up with him?”

  “...and we’re back to that again.”

  The doors slid open and Ilrica strode in, a towel wrapped around her body after a fresh shower, Cadbury perched happily on her shoulder. “Well, I just got off the wave with Nathers. Can you believe it? He actually agreed to let me go. An awesome student like myself...”

  She paused when she saw Cha’Rolette sitting at the navigation console.

  “What are you doing here?” Ilrica asked, flustered.

  I might ask you the same thing, Faolan.

  “I’m on vacation. How did you even get on board, Duchess?”

  Cha’Rolette tapped the crest on the wall. A pair of serpents, their bodies braided together into the shape of a wreath, a sword and sickle crossed at the center. Who do you
think built this ship?

  Ilrica stuck her thumb out at Zurra. “Okay, fine, you had the command codes, but what about her? She doesn’t seem the type to specialize in system infiltration.”

  “Ha! As if you could stop me,” Zurra boasted. “I don’t need to know all that fancy stuff. I just wormed my way up through the sewage exhaust system.”

  “Eww.” Everyone took a step away from her.

  Zurra looked around stupidly. “What? I took a shower after.”

  Trahzi ground her teeth and her eyes burned.

  “Crap, she’s going to explode again,” Zurra warned, hiding behind the projection tank.

  If she does I’ll blow her out into space, Cha’Rolette warned, her hand hovering over the control.

  “You realize that would not hurt us.”

  No, but it would make me feel better. You gave Gerald second degree burns over three quarters of his body. I can’t forgive that.

  Cha’Rolette’s resolve was iron clad. Everyone knew she was deadly serious.

  “Our abilities are closely tied to our emotions,” Trahzi admitted. “We lost control of them. That was a mistake.”

  So was letting you into the academy. I’m not going to let you hurt him again.

  Zurra stomped her foot. “Hey, I got burned too!”

  No one cares! Go jump back in the toilet you crawled out from.

  Zurra’s head inflated. “I CARE!”

  Gerald stepped in between them and waved his arms. “Okay, this isn’t going to work. We can’t be ready to kill each other five minutes out. We’ll never get where we are going in one piece.”

  Cha’Rolette sniffed and turned away. He realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, so he focused on Trahzi.

  “Look, Trahzi, this is going to be a long flight, and it’ll be miserable if we are angry the whole time.”

  “We are not angry!” she snarled.

  “...right. So, let’s do this. I’ll apologize to you for trying to manipulate you, and you promise not to burn me again. I think that is a fair compromise.”

  Trahzi was surprised. “But you still don’t actually believe you were attempting to manipulate us?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So, why apologize for it?”

  “Because I’m trying to be a peacemaker.”