Liufr growled. “You would blackmail your way into the circle?”
“Why not? Loyalty didn’t get me anywhere, so I figured I’d try force. It’s the only thing you seem to respect or understand, after all.”
Trahzi watched as the missiles pierced the upper atmosphere and sped down towards the capitol. “Faolan, hurry.” She was about to rush out, but Gerald put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Very well,” Liufr roared. “Although it disgusts me to do so, for the lives of my hunters and huntresses, I will...”
There was a cracking sound. Everyone looked on in shock as Ilrica crushed the device in her hand and sprinkled the dust down onto the floor.
“Oops, I seem to have destroyed it,” she taunted. “Now, there is no way to protect the Bertulf from the plague.”
“Why would you do that?” Trahzi yelled.
“Are you mad?” Zurra screamed.
Ilrica wiped off her hands on her skirt. “Like I said, I came here to save you. If you use those missiles, you’ll be killing your own. Better stop them.”
“Stop the missiles immediately!” Liufr screamed in panic to Eridf. The little man scuttled over and plugged himself into the command station.
Everyone watched anxiously as the missiles struck down towards the capitol. As the last second, they self-destructed harmlessly, incinerating the nanites before they could be released.
Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief.
The silence was broken as Liufr started to giggle. He stood up, his massive from towering over everyone else on the bridge, and began laughing maniacally.
“You are a fool, spy,” he roared. “What do you think you have accomplished here? NOTHING! I still command an army of Bertulf hunters, a navy of drone warships. I do not need a plague to defeat my enemies. I will carve out my empire, and take my rightful place at Faelan’s side as her Alpha!”
Liufr drew two daggers from his belt. “All drone ships, fire on that corsair. Reduce it to dust!”
The image of Ilrica stood there before him, unmoved. None of the rat-men were moving either.
“You heard me! Open fire now!”
Eridf folded his stubby little arms defiantly. The others followed suit.
Liufr’s eyes narrowed. “You sniveling little chunk of meat! I’ll floss my teeth with your intestines!”
Liufr flipped the dagger in his hand and stabbed down, but something caught his wrist.
Liufr looked back and saw Ullok standing there at the exit to a wind tunnel, holding him tightly.
“What... what are you...?”
A second wind tunnel appeared, then a third, then a fourth. Hunters and huntresses came in, their eyes hard and cold as the mountains. They formed a circle around him, surrounding him on all sides.
“What is this?” Liufr snarled, looking at Ullok. “Is this a challenge?”
Ullok shook his head sadly. “You are not worthy of a challenge,” he said, removing the Ulric-clan armband he wore and tossing it at his feet. “You lead with neither honor nor wisdom.”
The other Bertulf removed their arm-bands as well, casting them at his feet.
“You... you can’t do this,” Liufr screamed, his eyes wild. “I am the Alpha, you are bound by blood to obey me!”
“Not anymore,” Accalia said, pointing her staff at the command console. “You fired the missiles. You attempted to kill your fellow hunters. You have sullied yourself. You have no honor that we need challenge.”
Liufr’s eyes went white as he looked at his hands. His whole boy trembled with rage. “I... I fired the...” He looked over at the smirking image of Ilrica hanging there in the air before him.
“You... YOU DID THIS! YOU TRICKED ME! YOU TURNED MY CLANS AGAINST ME!” Forgetting himself, Liufr slashed at the window, but was tackled to the ground by Accalia and the other huntresses, his face and hands bound by glowing bands of leather.
Ullok stepped closer, looking at the edges of the window, unsure of how to use it. “Alliance Ministers, please tell the Zurinites that we will meet them on the surface in one hour to continue negotiations. All of our forces are standing down.”
* * *
Down in the royal palace, the Zurinites cheered wildly, breaking off pieces of themselves and throwing them into the air like confetti.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Senator Immestria said, hugging Zurra closely.
“I can’t believe she did it,” Zurra said happily. “I... I can’t believe it!”
Back on the corsair ship, Ilrica blew on her claws and polished them up a bit as the holo-tank powered down. “See? This diplomacy stuff isn’t so hard. The Duchess isn’t the only one who can do it.”
Gerald was so excited he completely lost control. He ran up and gave her a bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in the air. When he kissed her on the cheek, more fireworks went off in her heart.
“I could get used to this hero stuff,” she giggled drunkenly, her face bright red.
“I knew you could do it!” Gerald praised.
Trahzi was not pleased at seeing her receive Gerald’s affection. “Faolan,” she said harshly, “did you really mix your own blood into the weapon?”
Ilrica laughed. “Pffft, no. But it will take them months to figure that out.”
They all looked down at the crushed device on the floor. “So, what was that thing?”
“Oh, that?” Ilrica opened the pocket again and pulled out another one. “These stupid girl uniforms don’t have any pockets, so this is where I keep my music collection.”
She tapped the button, and Bertulfian opera filled the room.
Everyone stared at Ilrica, speechless.
Ilrica shrugged. “My external memory was full.”
Trahzi took a moment to add it all up in her head. “You... you cheated.”
Ilrica gave a thumbs up and smiled. “Of course I cheated. I’m a spy. It’s what I do.”
* * *
When the doors of the palace courtyard were flung open, Ilrica was shocked to see a large pink man roll up into a ball and bowl himself right at her.
“There you are!” Senator Immestria gushed, slamming into her and splatting himself against the fountain.
“Ahh, what are you doing?” she struggled, yanking at his pink body, handfuls pulling away like taffy. “Get offa me.”
“This is most definitely Zurra’s father,” Trahzi observed.
The reporters loved it. A flock of them poured around, taking pictures and recordings, and tossing out questions.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” Zurra said angrily as she came outside. “The Bertulf are the enemy.”
“Nonsense, Zurra,” the senator said, wrapping himself tightly around Ilrica’s waist. “This is the young woman who saved all our lives.”
Senator Immestria reformed into his usual shape and posed for the cameras, shaking Ilrica’ hand and smiling mosaically. It was the most uncomfortable Ilrica had ever been. “We owe this fine young lady a huge debt of gratitude.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Ilrica said, anxious to divert the attention off of her. “I may have been the tip of the spear, but the architect of the plan is right here.”
The senator clapped his hands. “Ah! Well, let’s meet this person who has done such a mighty deed for us this day.”
Ilrica shoved Gerald forward to the head of the group and put out his hand. “This is Gerald Dyson.”
Senator Immestria froze in place. “Did... did you say, Gerald Dyson?”
“Yes, of course.”
Senator Immestria looked over to Zurra, who nodded darkly in conformation, then he looked at all the cameras flashing and recording.
“My my,” he chuckled nervously. “How...” he swallowed. “...awkward.”
Zurra’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Don’t do it, Daddy.”
Senator Immestria faked a smile and grabbed Gerald’s outstretched hand, pumping it warmly. “My thanks to you on behalf of my family, my people, and
the entire Core-Worlds Sub-Federation.”
Zurra stomped her foot and rolled away.
“It was my pleasure,” Gerald said with a smile as the senator posed them for the cameras.
“Did you know this is not the first time this young man has helped me?” the senator said to a cute young reporter, practically ignoring Gerald.
“Really?” she asked.
“Oh yes, I was off world when our planet came under attack by the ArchTyrant, and I was separated from the rest of my family. Well, you remember the chaos of that age; it took many cycles and a galaxy-wide manhunt to find my lost daughter. Can you guess where I found her?”
“Where?” the reporter asked, hanging on his every word.
“On Eeeyarth. This young man here had taken her in and cared for her.” The senator slapped Gerald on the back, twice as hard as was necessary. “And here I am indebted to him once again. What are the odds?”
“That is incredible,” the reporter gushed. “We could do a whole family history expose, my producer would love it.”
Senator Immestria lead her away, never even breaking his rhythm as he recounted the first of many stories to the young reporter, his hand resting just a little bit too low on the small of her back, leaving Gerald and the others standing in the courtyard.
“His body temperature increases by eleven degrees every time he looks at that young reporter,” Trahzi observed. “Even more so when he touches her.”
“Yes, that’s why they call it the ‘hots,’” Gerald explained.
Trahzi tilted her head inquisitively. “Is it true for all males? I have observed the same reaction in you whenever you look at my...”
“Ah, let’s change the subject,” Gerald stammered.
Ilrica snickered. “Carnivore,” she accused.
A wind tunnel appeared and a handful of Bertulf walked through, Ullok and Accalia at the head. The guards in the courtyard became visibly tense at their arrival, and the remaining reporters kept their distance.
Gerald was still not used to how much they towered over Ilrica. He spent so much time around her he had come to think of her as the Bertulf, and the others as abnormal, even though he knew on some level that the reverse was the case.
“We have come to begin negotiations, Minister,” Ullok said in his native tongue. Gerald had forgotten that other Bertulf didn’t bother to learn standard, so it took him a second to reset his translator.
“I have high hopes that we can work through this,” Gerald said, trying to be as diplomatic as he could.
“To be honest, I do not think there is much hope,” Ullok admitted. “At the moment, we do not even have an Alpha who can speak for all of the clans.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Ilrica teased.
Ullok didn’t seem pleased as this suggestion. “To be honest, I have never really wanted to start my own pack. Trying to keep that many females happy seems like a curse, not a blessing. I guess you could say I am a little bit of an herbivore in that regard.”
“You’re a grass-eater?” Gerald asked, amazed that this huge muscular man could be anything but an Alpha.
“You would not be doing it alone,” Accalia said as she looked at Ullok sidelong, her attraction to him clear in her eyes. “The more experienced huntresses would help you keep the younger ones in line.”
Ullok pursed his lips, as if he had never considered it before. “It would be dishonorable to refuse such a strong ally as yourself.”
Accalia blushed ever so slightly at the praise.
Ullok got back on task. “Even once that matter is settled, there is the question of what to do with the conquered territories, and that fleet of abominations sitting in orbit. I seriously doubt that we can come to terms that the other clans will accept.”
Ilrica stepped forward and spoke in her native tongue. “Yes, there is much to discuss, but let us not try to do so all at once. These things take time, and the first step is to sit down and have a drink together. I believe a place is being setup somewhere inside.”
Gerald was astonished at how proper and deferential Ilrica was being. He wondered if it was because she was in the presence of a Bertulf male. Somewhere, deep in his heart, it bothered him a little bit, but he tried to push it aside.
Accalia sneered at Ilrica, then walked past her as if she wasn’t even there. The other huntresses followed suit.
“Is there anything that can be done for Ilrica?” Gerald asked Ullok as he passed.
The massive wolf-man stopped and thought. Gerald couldn’t get over how different he was from Liufr. He had kind of a quiet strength to him. A patient hunter, compared to Liufr’s brutal savagery. “I’m really not sure how much I could do, even as an Alpha. She had a hand in the creation of a weapon that was used against the Bertulf. Faelan won’t allow us to simply overlook that easily.”
Ilrica tried to hide, it, but her eyes dropped down a little sadly.
Ullok’s face softened. “As for me, personally...” He put out his massive hand and offered it to her. Ilrica looked up timidly. “I think we were wrong about you, Ilrica,” he said, clasping her forearm in the warrior’s grip. “You do have the heart of a hunter, after all.”
Ilrica couldn’t hide how happy that made her.
Gerald was happy too, but a part of him couldn’t stop being bothered by how long Ullok’s hand lingered in hers.
Cadbury wobbled over to one of the palace guards, pecking at his pink foot. The man did his best to remain stoic, even as he tried to shoo her away.
* * *
The contractor had an expression of shock as he looked into the window; Senator Immestria on the other side.
“Yes, this is rather embarrassing for me as well,” the senator continued, “but I need to cancel our contract.”
The contractor was speechless. “No member of the assassin’s guild has ever failed to eliminate their target. We will kill him, I assure you. My agent is already...”
“Yes, I know, but things have changed. I can’t have him killed while he’s a guest in my house, it would be political suicide.”
“But...”
“Think of it this way. Your record is still untarnished. You didn’t fail to kill the target, the client just cancelled the hit before you could. Um... you are welcome to keep the fee, of course. Just don’t come after him anymore.”
The contractor smacked his lips. “Well... all right. A pleasure doing business with you, I suppose.”
The window closed and the contractor sat there in stunned silence.
After a minute he chuckled to himself. “Even after all these centuries, life still manages to surprise me at times,” he said, shaking his head.
He tapped a rune and another encrypted window appeared.
“Assassin, return. Abort mission.”
“No.”
“The client has cancelled the contract. Abort mission.”
“No, I must kill Gerald Dyson. No member of the assassin’s guild has ever failed...”
“Yes, I know the catch phrase, I don’t need you to repeat it to me. Look, this is an unusual situation. You are commanded to return immediately.”
“I must kill my target.”
The contractor’s temper flared. “Look, you oversized toaster oven, don’t make me use your kill switch. Now, stop arguing with me and get your metallic butt...”
The assassin plunged her hand into her chest, and tore out a small blinking device. Crushing it in her hand, she closed the window.
The contractor sat back in his chair. “Well, that’s not good.”
He stroked his long white beard and looked over at the vault, filled with a fortune in latinum bars. “Perhaps it is time for me to retire.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
One of the true oddities of the galaxy is that, despite the vast diversity of atmosphere, gravity, radiation, tectonic activity, thermodynamics, flora and fauna, every planet where sentient life has appeared also has cacao plants, from which chocolate is made. Neither science, alche
my, sorcery, religion, nor philosophy has been able to produce an adequate reason to explain this phenomenon. Perhaps the presence of chocolate accelerates the appearance of sentient life. Perhaps advanced civilizations are simply impossible to establish without chocolate’s presence. Or, perhaps sentient females simply refuse to exist where chocolate does not. Whatever the reason, chocolate has made it possible for males of every species to smooth things over with their crazy female partners by presenting them with some silky delicious morsels since time immemorial. Truly, chocolate is a gift from the gods.
- A Quick and Simple Guide to The Galaxy, page 43, Tongzen Press
Cha’Rolette breathed deeply as she sat in the testing chair. Unconsciously, she reached up and grabbed at the ringlets on her right side. They looked identical to her own original ta’atu, save for a faint line where they had been attached. They had been grown from her own cells, yet they did not feel like part of her body. They felt glued on—fake, foreign.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. On the other side of the observation window, she knew her father would be watching. She tried to shove that thought out of her mind. He was not what drove her rehabilitation.
Carefully she inserted a cable into the back of her neck, and brought up her online functions one by one. When she reached her external memory, she stopped. There, sitting before her, were the messages sent to her by Gerald since the accident.
Her father had locked them so she couldn’t read them, but she saw them there. He had left three for her every day, which she knew must have taken him a long time to write, since he had to type them out by hand. Every time she thought about how many wave stations he must have broken to send these to her, it always made her smile.
Doctor Ko’Linnan had asked her countless times what her secret was, why she worked so hard to regain what she had lost, but she never told him her secret.
In her heart, she reached out and placed her hand against those locked messages. She knew that Gerald was out there somewhere, still reaching out for her. That was the thing that kept her going. They were what she held onto.
Windows of information sprung up around her, and she went to work. With one hand she plotted a course through an aetheric maelstrom, with the other she created an economic projection for the Fiboe ilmanite mining subcontractors. Through her crystronic plugs, she began reviewing the course work she had missed. Before beginning, she checked over the course syllabus, compared it to past years, and planned out a personalized study schedule that would bring her back on track to where she would have been had she never been injured. Simultaneously, with her ta’atu, she practiced moving about grains of sand on a plate behind her.
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