by Scott Baron
Centuries prior, the notion of fishing in the LA River would have been a comical one, given its lackluster trickling flow and sterile cement banks. But now, with a proper river running through and nature having reclaimed the banks centuries prior, the boys were having great success of it.
Vince also relented in one small way, sharing a small glass of whiskey with his young friend.
“I know he’s a kid, Daze, but I think, just for today, he’s earned it.”
Daisy really couldn’t argue the point, and her heart warmed as she watched them fishing, talking, and bonding as the daylight faded.
“Looks like you’ll be having fish for dinner tonight, Sis.”
Yep.
“Actually, it looks like a lot of people may be having fish, if they keep up at that pace.”
Yep, Daisy agreed with an amused and contented sigh as they reeled in another.
“You know, I was thinking.”
Uh-oh. That’s never good.
“Ha-ha,” Sarah replied. “But seriously, you know how Arlo said he heard the power whip activate?”
Uh-huh.
“He was supposed to be scouting in the other direction. What was he doing in that building, Daze?”
Daisy looked at the pair standing on the shore and realized she didn’t care.
You know what, Sarah? I’m chalking it up to fate smiling upon me just this once.
And with that, she put the thought out of her head, letting it go without a struggle, just as the eventful day would soon give way to night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was with surprising efficiency the Chithiid and global AIs organized the tribunals to administer justice and punishment to the Ra’az and their Chithiid loyalist collaborators.
The AIs, true to their nature, were quick and logical once the issue of prisoners from the global conflict was put to them. The Chithiid, likewise, were fast to act, their many years in logistical roles helping them quickly navigate the swift waters of interspecies judicial organization.
Daisy and Vince had heard descriptions of the arena-like settings in which the hearings were being carried out, but witnessing it first-hand the morning after the successful capture of the Ra’az in the eastern portion of LA was nevertheless somewhat surreal.
The historic theater in the center of the city had been spared centuries prior, along with many of the other buildings in the immediate vicinity, all saved from destruction and redevelopment by their landmark status.
The stage, former home to song, dance, and all manner of theatricality, was now outfitted with a heavy concrete bench, to which a defendant would soon be chained.
Given the brute strength of the Ra’az, as well as the pure-rage instinctive nature of their people, it was deemed a wise decision. For loyalist prisoners, on the other hand, lesser restraints were more than enough.
In the balcony above, the seating was open to all who wished to witness the proceedings, regardless of species. A fair-sized audience had formed, consisting of cyborgs, humans, and Chithiid alike, all sitting with rapt attention as they watched the drama unfold below.
On the ground floor, where Daisy and Vince found themselves, along with their hunting party teammates, those with vested interest in the particular hearings were seated.
The wings of the stage were guarded not only by a pair of armed Chithiid, whose emotionless faces and firmly set jaws left no doubt that they were of the proper disposition for the job, but also a terrifying redundancy plan.
Two massive Graizenhunds were seated on either side of the central judges’ bench, like mastiffs and guard beasts of old. The deadly animals, though terrifying to any onlookers who didn’t know better, were actually extremely happy with their new roles.
They had been mistreated by the Ra’az for their entire lives, used as tools whose sole purpose was to hunt and kill. Now, with full bellies and plentiful ear scratches from their kind new masters, the intimidating animals were quite content to spend a lazy morning watching all the goings-on in the tribunal before being taken out for play time and treats.
Of course, the minor neuro-block devised by Cal and the other AIs to suppress their most aggressive learned behaviors may have also played a somewhat more than insubstantial role.
Arlo waved to Daisy and Vince from across the theater. He was busy chatting away with a trio of Chithiid hunters they had noticed the other day. The group had been particularly successful, having corralled a Ra’az, as well as half a dozen loyalists.
“You see Tamara?” Vince asked, scanning the crowd.
“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was already back out hunting again.”
“She doesn’t want to see this?”
“I’m sure she would, most likely, but not nearly as much as she enjoys kicking alien ass, I’d wager. I mean, you saw her yesterday.”
“Good point,” Vince agreed with a grin. “She was kinda like a kid in a candy shop.”
“Yup. At least she’s having a good go of it on Earth. Downtime will do her some good.”
“If by downtime you mean hunting aliens, that is.”
“Everyone’s definition is different, babe,” Daisy said, nuzzling her man’s neck.
A hush fell over the crowd as Maarl walked to the judge’s bench, along with his human and cyborg counterparts.
“Is that one of Joshua’s soldiers?” Vince asked, noting the heavy-duty build of the metal man.
“Yeah, that’s Duke. Until the local AIs get a hookup inside the theater, he’s their representative.”
“And the human?”
“I don’t know his name, but I recognize him. One of Cal’s people.”
The system was simple. A three-person panel would try the case, and a simple majority would decide the defendant’s fate. So far, despite being given ample opportunity to repent their actions and reform, not a single Ra’az had taken the offer.
With great care, the AIs fed a translation of the proceedings through their systems, coming up with the best equivalent they could in halting Ra’az. They also had Maarl clarify in his limited Ra’az, as well as Chithiid, which nearly all Ra’az spoke to a varying degree.
Only the loyalists had ever been properly schooled in Ra’az language. Yet another paranoid act of a paranoid race. The unintended result was making communication a bit harder now that the former masters were in chains.
“The defendant may now address the tribunal,” the trio offered after making their case, providing the Ra’az prisoner ample opportunity to atone for its crimes.
Rather than arguing its case, the Ra’az showed the same rage as the previous defendants, lunging at the panel, spittle flying from its mouth as it hurled what were surely obscenities at the impassive judges. This particular Ra’az, was apparently rather proficient in his Chithiid language, shouting out horrible insults and profanities in that alien tongue as well.
Maarl impassively wiped a fleck of Ra’az spit from his cheek and looked over at his comrades. Both gave him a subtle nod of silent agreement.
“You do not wish to plead your case in a logical manner? This is your opportunity to seek mercy and rehabilitation. I strongly suggest you seize this chance to make the best of your situation.”
The Ra’az laughed, then spat a gob of phlegm that fortunately missed Maarl, falling short on the desk before him.
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” he said calmly. “Well, we offered.”
He nodded once to the guard.
A single blast rang out.
Headshot.
The dead Ra’az slumped to the floor.
“Next!”
“Holy shit,” Vince gasped.
“What did you expect? Cupcakes and hugs?”
“No, but damn, at least take them outside for a firing squad or something.”
Judging by the positive reaction of the crowd, however, it appeared the onstage execution was a hit with the locals.
The cleaning crew quickly came out and dragged the Ra’az corpse fr
om the stage, mopping up the blood and readying the platform for the next defendant. It was to be a loyalist, and fortunately, they were proving to be far more reasonable when it came to plea agreements.
“You wanna get out of here?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah,” Vince replied. “It’ll be at least a couple of hours before Maarl’s freed up to talk anyway, right?”
“Thereabouts.”
“Okay, then. We can see how Alma’s folks are assimilating in the meantime.”
“You sure you’re up to seeing them? I mean, after what they did to you, I know I have a hard time not beating the ever-loving shit out of each and every one of them.”
Vince took her hand and led her from the theater.
“Hey, that was a different time. We’ve retaken the world. The planet is ours again, and we need to set it right. It’s time to put that stuff behind us, even if it really, really sucked, and move on.”
“Well…”
“Come on, I know you can do it. Hell, if I can, I’m sure you can.”
“Oh, fine. But if they so much as look at you sideways,” she said, making a little grab for the sword strapped to her back.
“Babe, if they regress, I’ll be the first to hold them down while you have your way with them in whatever vengeful manner you like,” he said with a laugh. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, okay?”
“Well, Stabby is a little hungry,” she said with a wicked grin.
The visit with Habby and Alma had been quite unexpected, and far more positive than either of them had anticipated.
“Oh my,” Alma said, her voice cracking with emotion when the pair arrived. “Oh, my dear Vincent. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“I know it wasn’t the real you who did those things,” Vince said. “Sid explained it all. I just feel sorry for you.”
“For me? After what I did?”
“Yeah, for you. I mean, to essentially wake up from what could be called a long sleep and find out your own body had been more or less sleepwalking––if the analogy works––doing horrible things before you finally woke up, and then having them thrown in your face? That would be an awful burden to bear.”
“And yet, you are the one who suffered.”
“Yes, but your actions also helped me, in a strange way.”
“But, I don’t see how,” Alma said, confused.
Vince pulled Daisy close and kissed her on the cheek.
“You created a situation that wound up bringing Daisy and me back together again, albeit unintentionally. For that, you have my thanks.”
“I-I don’t know what to say, Vincent.”
“I know what to say,” Habby butted in.
“Oh dear, not again,” Alma groaned.
“Yes, again,” he shot back. “I say just look at the state of your clothes! The AI on your moon base lets you go out like this? Oh, please! You must let me put together a new wardrobe for you.”
“Habby––” Alma tried to interject.
“And I will do my best to make it functionally practical as well,” he added.
“You’re making an effort, at least,” Alma said.
“For you,” he replied. “We may not see eye to eye, but even if it doesn’t seem like it, I do respect you, you know.”
“I actually think those two might work it out,” Sarah mused.
Ya know what, Sis? You may be right.
“Habby, we really appreciate the offer, and if we weren’t on such a tight schedule, we’d gladly take you up on it, but we really have to get back. We have a meeting shortly that we can’t afford to miss.”
“Well, I suppose we can do it next time,” he replied.
“I’ll be back to take you up on that, though,” Vince said. “Really, I appreciate it, Habby.” A moment of inspiration struck. “You know what? How are you with designing attire for the younger generation?” he said, throwing a mischievous smile Daisy’s way. “You know, like a seventeen-year-old.”
“Ooh, that could be interesting,” Habby said, the gears in his mind already churning.
Daisy and Vince had made their way back to Maarl’s offices. With the tribunal completed for the day, he was finally free to pursue his other activities. Namely, planning the large-scale demise of the Ra’az.
If the hearings had reinforced anything, it was that the Ra’az would not be reasoned with, would not negotiate, and would never cease their aggressive behavior. With that fresh in his mind, he joined his human friends to discuss their plans.
“The team is entirely trustworthy, consisting of men I have known for many years. They are devising attack strategies in conjunction with your AI planners. Several options seem to be good possibilities for success.”
“And you say they are already training others for the mission?” Daisy asked, while Vince quietly listened on a headset as Cal translated for him.
“Yes, they are recruiting men for not only the assault on the Ra’az fleet, both piloting the captured ships as well as for the inevitable boarding parties, but also greater numbers of lesser-skilled but equally motivated Chithiid to participate en masse when the time comes to retake our homeworld.”
“But you are beginning your training rather early, are you not? We do not know how long it will take to get a functional warp drive built from scratch, let alone how long to make one capable of jumping a ship the size of yours.”
“True, it could be years, Daisy. But you forget, we are combining the resources of three races, and between us, there is a very real possibility of a breakthrough happening far sooner than expected. I would rather we are prepared for that eventuality than caught off guard.”
“Valid point,” she conceded. “And how goes the retrofitting of your vessels?”
“Slow, but well,” he replied. “My people are quite busy tracking down and removing all traces of Ra’az remote kill switches and destruct mechanisms from the Chithiid transport craft while they prepare them for the mission.”
“I have seen those kill switches in action. The Ra’az you tried this morning. He used one against the team pursuing him. Turned their power whips off with the press of a button.”
“Yes, this is a problem, and those would be useful devices during the assault, but we are prepared to continue without that resource if we must.”
“If we have the time, I believe I can neutralize their power whip shut-off device,” Daisy said. “It is not a guarantee, but I shall try my best.”
“Of that I have no doubt, my friend.”
“And what was that you said about retrofitting the ships? I thought we decided that altering their structure would only draw attention to them.”
“Yes, it would. However, some of my more clever comrades have come up with a plan to camouflage weapons systems beneath hull modifications, allowing them to be mounted within the hull, only to be deployed if needed.”
“Clever. I just hope we can complete our work on the warp technology so all of this labor is not in vain.”
“About that,” the older Chithiid said with a growing smile. “I have spoken once more with my contacts in San Francisco. While they were sequestered into different barracks within the facility, and often kept in the dark about the goings-on in other labs, it seems our people have managed to find a dozen Chithiid survivors with some knowledge of various aspects of the Ra’az warp technology. None of them understands it all, but combined, their intellects may be exactly what we need to progress the research.”
“You hear that, Sid?” Daisy asked over her comms.
“Yes, I certainly did, Daisy,” he replied. “Most promising, indeed.”
“Well, then,” she said, “let’s round them up and get them to Dark Side Base.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The team of Chithiid scientists hadn’t turned out to actually be scientists, exactly. While they were fairly proficient in many aspects of the Ra’azs' warp technology, the aliens who had been sent to work
with Chu on the moon were a mix of maintenance workers and janitorial staff.
“We are glad to be able to help the cause in any way we can,” a slim Chithiid named Berrk said upon arrival. Of the thirteen who came to take up residence on Dark Side, he was one of the most enthusiastic. Also one of the most talkative.
Sid and Mal found themselves constantly translating for Chu, though Freya and Marty were also happy to chip in when they weren’t otherwise occupied or down on the planet below.
“We really must speed the production of the modified neuro-stim units,” Sid lamented two weeks into the project.
“Agreed, it is a priority,” Mal said. “However, my onboard fabrication systems are somewhat limited at the moment with the other projects underway on the Váli. Most importantly, it appears Freya and Marty’s collaborative efforts on a cure for the plague blanketing the planet may actually bear fruit.”
“And that is indeed a top priority. Ending the plague is far more important than the mere convenience of our not having to play translator constantly,” Sid agreed.
“Yes. And it appears Chu is actually learning the Chithiid language somewhat on his own.”
It was true, the clever technician, while relying on the AIs for proper translations, was learning to understand, and even speak a little of the alien tongue. Being surrounded by a baker’s dozen of chatting Chithiid all day, every day, seemed to be just the immersion schooling he needed.
Shelly, Omar, and Tamara were also rapidly learning key phrases, but theirs tended to be more along the, “Aim over there,” and, “Drop and give me twenty,” variety as they trained their Chithiid recruits down on Earth’s surface.
A few weeks later, they had all been at the process for just over a month, and far more progress had been made on all fronts, from mustering a combat-ready force, to reverse-engineering the Ra’az warp tech, to retrofitting Chithiid ships to be space-worthy and secure from Ra’az remote shutdowns.
The retrofitting process was also moving along nicely, with Barry pulling back-to-back shifts helping Mrazich and Reggie as they installed heavy weaponry into the recessed housings their Chithiid counterparts had fabricated on Earth.
