THE STORYTELLER
I
am sitting on an old chair in front of a junked up desk, staring at an eviction
notice and a half -full bottle of bourbon. Yeah, I’m an optimist but everything was going wrong. I can’t figure it; I have done everything the way I usually do
it. Slept on the same side of my bed, shaved the same way, took the same public
conveyance, and more than that, I’m a Private investigator.
Look, the universe, pretty much, runs along as
it’s supposed to and if that’s true, the seedier nature and the actions of all
sentient beings would have to be consistent. That’s why I’m needed. The universe
is a perverse place and most people only want one thing, to get to the top of
whatever heap they think is important. Wealth? You can get it by stealing, you
get it by inheriting it, you can get it by graft, and you can get it in any way,
except earning it. History has always shown that the honest working guy never
wins. If you somehow end up with a pile of creds you have to turn into a nasty
predator to keep it. The best anyone can do then, is survive. I prefer to live
how I want. I earn my own way even if I have to do without some so-called
essentials. I guess that makes me dangerous. Look at me- a revolutionary.
My work slides below the sleazy surface and
follows the money and the desire for power. I go and deal with matters the
legits can’t. I am always needed; my work isn’t boring and it does have a
certain moral authority. That’s why I have always paid my bills but not always
on time. So what was happening? Why am I sitting here, without work.?
I was feeling like taking a long walk out a
short airlock. When my Bookie, Jimmy Deano, walks in. Funny- ugly little guy,
half-breed, but no one knows what species his mom took up with. That’s a mystery
I gave up on a long time ago and Jimmy would never say, for love, torture or
money. You see, for all the species of intelligent life out here, not one can
foster progeny with another. They can inter-marry, they do, and have long,
happy, and prosperous lives- just no kids. I guess God didn’t like the angels
slipping it to those earth sweeties. Hell, we all get along up here most of the
time, but if they did get along all the time I’d be out of a gig. But Jimmy was
the living proof that there was a species, out here, internally close to humans,
maybe those ole angels. I just thought the kids, according to Eld-Bibliam, were
supposed to be pretty. Another thing about that; we humans have the only ancient
record of that sort of coupling in the known worlds.
Anyway, he was acting like he was glad
to see me. That was odd because I don’t owe him any money. He was pre-blast
nervous and sweating wet; Deano was the coolest guy I knew. It wasn’t like him
and it made me nervous. He starts jabbering about needing to go on a trip, a
vacation. He hands me a pile of cash, without counting, not like Jimmy, and says
to me-
“Now don’t get mad but I been skinning you a bit
over the years. The Creds is for me
rippin’ ya. Plus there’s twenty gees more cause
I need you ta help me.”
I was interested and listening even though I was
counting the huge pile of Creds. I note the blast-hander bulge in his vest
holster; also not Deano’s style.
Now, I didn’t believe that for a second but Idys
were certainly available if you knew the right person and even though there was
a lot of treash in my hand it wouldn’t be enough to get a foolproof rig-up. I
rubbed my finger and thumb together. Jimmy reaches in his vest and pulls out a
packet and throws it on my desk.
“Take what you need, Ben, but be a friend, leave
me enough to live on and get me the hell off this turning pile of plastalloy
I opened the packet and gasped, I haven’t seen
this many Creds or in these denominations for a long time. I took out ten of the
bills, a fair amount, and handed back the packet.
“I’ll do it for you because you’re a friend and
if you didn’t leave I’d have to kill you for skimmin’ me.”
I figure he’s in trouble so I handed him my slot
key to my compartment. I can’t stay mad at a friend. I knew he was hitting on
me, it’s how I leveraged my friends when I needed their help. It always worked
out.
“I’ll have you an implant programmed and a new
profile in three hours. Go to my place and have a bite to eat and a good bottle
of wine. You’ll be okay. Rest a bit, old friend, and I’ll have you off Crate by
this evening.”
He shakes my hand then hugs me, for chrizz sake,
and he’s out my door. The universe will always provide after it does something
weird.
I make a closed- pirate call, get Jimmy’s deal
workin’ and a Converter to come by to get my illegal money into my earn-base
account without any Noseys buggin’ me. Now I don’t mind the Demforce
Organization of Special Earth Services bunch at all. They kept the crafty
otherworld folks from attempting any shanagins
on Earth and it’s lawful colonies. Had to be a big job. The problem is
that they had lost the ‘human’ element a long time ago and now is just a bunch
of power mad fanatics with some weird hidden agenda. Still, I had friends in the
Nosey organization who were sometimes helpful and covered my back.
Then she walked in my door. I looked up from the
phone and gaped, she was too classy for me. Blond, redhead, brunette, it made no
difference if they dressed and looked the way she did. She was way out of my
league. Hell, I had never seen such a woman. I didn’t even know that women like
her existed. She was A-Rodeo Level;
the elite lived there and never slummed down here with the rest of us. Her
perfume was that artistic mood stuff that set up the environment for the coming
discussion. Yeah, my nose loved her. If I was stupid, I’d let my nose have it’s
way and invite her out. I didn’t. I was smart enough to know she wore the scent
to make me feel an equal and I was heading for big trouble.
She was a fire- redhead, an Alterian and she was
painfully beautiful. Alterians all tended to be archetypicaly attractive by
human standards. I had seen some antique magazines, at the Museum, called
Playboy and wondered what pubescent boys felt when they looked at the nudes in
all their air-brushed-perfection. It must have been hard on the real women of
the time. Standing before me was just that, perfection, without the touchups.
Alterians were very pale leaning toward pink, tallish, slim, and well shaped.
Well with this woman well shaped didn’t really describe her. She was perfect.
Everything about her made my bells ring and I felt like a naughty school boy
with some very nasty thoughts in my head. She had Fiery red shoulder length
hair, white perfect alabaster skin and red full lips. There appeared, in my
experience, to be no flawed Alterians and this one topped them all There was
some rumor and speculation that they had altered their genes some where along
the long way. The flawed ones just
died in the womb or were killed at birth. Humans and Alterians did not
co-mingle. It wasn’t a law just a custom. Alterians considered Humans a service
race but did know how to be polite. Humans were, of course, envious. She sat on
the edge of my desk and showed too much leg and lit an expensive Golden Sativa.
You had to admire her taste.
“I will pay handsomely for your …help.” She
stood and walked to the only easy chair I have in my office. Watching her walk
was distracting. She throws her long curly locks and looks over her shoulder and
says-
“Please turn off any recording devices and lock the door. This tale is an
embarrassment to my pod- family. It is of a nature that only you can be of any
service, but even with your reputation for desecration and prodigious skills, I
fear I’m doomed.”
How could I not be intrigued. I switched on my
laser-damp and flooded the room to kill any snoop ears.
I got up and locked the door. I reached into my shoulder holster and
pulled out a pulse blast- hander and put it on the desk. She sits and crosses
her legs once again, but this time it was natural. The short dress did her
justice.
“Thank you. You do recognize the importance and
you put me at ease. Ben, I’m surprised at how attractive you are. It is
unsettling that I should constantly have such feelings, but my tendencies are
exactly why I am here. You know that I am so much above you, that my being here
must tell you that this is only an illusion. I must have done something dreadful
to make us, somehow, equal. Do you see?”
I nodded at the obvious and the species slur.
This one was from a high class Alterian Family. She was making it look like she
was coming on to me and whatever was up was gonna be good and real dangerous.
“We Anterians marry in groups, which I’m sure
you know. My Senior Husband is Lord Sir Hillary Sorren. Do you know of him?” She
says, as she lifts her head and purses her too red lips to blow smoke rings over
her head.
“Yes, he’s involved with the sensitive
negotiations.” I say- trying to sound like I am worthy of the conversation. “My
sources tell me it is over pirate rights between the Sellaans and Claagarees.
Big deal, they have been at war for four hundred years. “I was proud of myself
for my control.” I don’t see that happening no matter how good your husband is.”
“Yes all that is true but it still is a
politically sensitive situation. Ben! May I call you Ben?” I nodded, watching
her face. “I have done an impossibly embarrassing moral perversion. I have been
having an affair, outside my family, with a business partner of my husband. His
name is Celar Vann and he is dead.”
“Did you do it?” This was getting good.
“Blessed Lord Preyon, no. I would invite the
Flames of Hadre. I’m certainly a sexual deviant but not a killer. He too was
perverse, although, I had no idea how sick he really was. He was found dead in a
Plythian Brothel.”
“Oh, that’s disgusting.” My professionalism left
me for a brief moment. A shudder of revulsion ran up my spine.
“Imagined how I felt. I bathed five times a day
for a week.” She pouted and made me shudder, this time, in delight. “The police
have questioned me politely and, forgive me, I told them you were my
Representative Cousin.”
I didn’t believe what I heard. To have a Human
allowed in an Alterian Family was unprecedented given the prejudices between our
two Species.
“Yes! He made it official. You are assigned to
his Family Line that way there won’t be a conflict. He believes it will be
important to our two races and that you are worthy.”
My status and social standing just went through
the roof. I have just been made famous. That would explain why no one has called
on me. She stood and looked me right in the eye pushing home the reality of the
situation. She was treating me as an equal. Damn these Alterians, now I’m in
this royal diplomat’s Family. This was going to hamper my abilities- or not.
After all I’m dealing with deviants and an Ambassador. No, didn’t matter.
This was a set up and I was buurg lunch for sure.
She walked over with a chrome device and
injected a link into my arm.
“You will learn to use it. Just press it and
speak a name “
There was a small tattoo on my arm. “It is the
way our Families contact each other. I will see you later Ben. Thank you.”
She put her gloved hand behind my head and
pulled me forward for a kiss. It was long in promise and intimate. Well, we are
family but I felt a little naughty. She walked out and left me too much alone.
On my desk was an envelope. She must have left it when she kissed me. I opened
it and inside was a safe account check for five million. I should have been
thrilled with the Peerage and sizable endowment, but a may not live long enough
to enjoy it.
The Rotate was a neutral manufactured space
colony in an intermediate zone. It was ten miles long and three miles in
diameter. A quarter million beings lived and worked on the inside skin of this
spinning cylinder. Ships came and went and the environs were perfect for every
kind of scuff and trum, as long as they breathed oxygen and nitrogen. And so far
every star race contacted did just that. Every visitor was scanned for
unnecessary parasites, implanted with a locator, injected with an intravenous
sauce that controlled disease and prevented the annoying allergies that unlike
species create in each other. Each section and health facility had bio-scanners
to keep track of everyone’s health and whereabouts. A closed environment was a
fragile place.
I did get the expected call from my friend,
Commander Agara-be. On the way to the station I picked up a dozen doughnuts and
a termo of over-sweet coffee and stepped in to
see him. He started throwing loud expletives as
he roared through the door and grabbed my arm.
“ Lets go, you famer dung. When I call you get
here faster. I got no patience for freelancers on the tab. So listen up. I just
got a call that an Anterian was found dead in a Plythian Brothel, Mid- section.
You ride with me. You bring Doughnuts?”
“And Coffee-sweet and strong. Sorry I was late.”
I really liked this guy. The theater was
necessary for the other Copperheads. This was their turf and I was an intruder.
I fought, spec-ops, beside Agara-be and his one-hundred in the Splitter Wars and
got to know these eyeless bastards pretty well. I pulled this Copperhead out of
some bad spot and we have been like brothers ever since.
“Good man nice to see you. You okay? I heard
some pretty strange stuff. Is it true?” He says in a quiet voice out of range of
his subordinates.
“Apparently. I wasn’t even asked.” It didn’t
surprise me he knew before I did.
“Weird. Something strange in it, Pal. Watch your
back on this one.”
We climbed into a police speeder and jumped to
the open sky in the center of the Rotate.
I was too confused to speak so, in silence, I
stuffed my face with a choco-creme, as did my eyeless friend. It may be the last
time I enjoy their sweet goodness.
Mrs.Sorren, obviously, did not get called in for
questioning. Heading up here was not good and I didn’t know how much weight my
saving Agara’s ass was going to have. After all, Alterians were involved.
His Copper- speeder was parked in the energy
stream of the center spin. Agara set it on auto, we ate doughnuts and sipped
coffeen for about a half-hour. My stomach wasn’t the better for it. He finally
turned to me. I noticed that we were fielded. I felt a little better, no one
could hear this conversation. Something in my forehead tingled so I knew he was
looking right at me.
“Ben, we got us a real problem.”
The only time this crime weary Copperhead ever
said ‘we’ was when ‘I’ was going to do something decidedly illegal.
“You know I would never ask you if it wasn’t
really important. I’ll make it up to you, buddy.”
Now, Copperians make perfect Policemen because
they see lies as if telling a fib were a solid thing. They also couldn’t tell
the truth if their life’s depended on it. In fact the better the liar the higher
the status. The trick was to understand that Copperians look at truth and lies
as subjective, layers on layers. That subtle understanding made communication
with them rich and satisfying, if one takes the time to learn the distinctions.
Agara and I had found time in foxholes to understand each other.
“You got it!” I blurted.
You can guess he wasn’t asking. If I dared to
say no he would have opened the door and threw me out. I would not fall; the
null point would just slowly have my nerves fried by the energy currents that
flow down the axis of the Rotate. I would dehydrate and blow away as dust. Since
only the Police could use this vector, I would never be missed. It was a
convenient law enforcement tool. Although, Agara would have to pay back my death
or be wracked with remorse and probably go insane.
“Let’s go to a safe place and have a chat.”
I thought we were.
He rolled off and headed on the Workside of the
Rotates inner skin. We got out of the vehicle and passed through detector-scans.
We took off again and ended up in a warehouse area and he led me- coffee
and doughnuts in hand, to a run down building. The inside however was pelf and
modern. I was in a Copper spiritual rest facility and I could not be here if I
wasn’t considered a Copperian. Chrizz, I was losing my identity and getting
disturbed by all this inclusive attention. Believe me my job did not usually go
this way.
The building appeared to be empty, I know it
wasn’t, and Agara pointed me to a door. The room was walled in a stamped gold
and tapestries depicting ancient battles and war gods. It was furnished
lavishly. I entered and sat on a
large overstuffed couch. I placed the goodies on the table in front of me and
waited.
Agara came in with a purple robe loosely thrown
over his impeccably tailored suit. He sat and placed a bottle and two glasses on
the table. The bottle told part of the tale. Shalouque was only used at
ceremonial meetings. My good friend was going to tell me a whopper, a lie to
beat all lies. I was over my head. He poured the liqueur and gave a toast and
prayer oath. That’s when it hit me, his robe and the privacy of the place was
because he was using his Episcopate to have this meeting. I didn’t know who my
friend really was and now I wish his Eminence had tossed me out into the stream.
If this did not go well I may yet have my wish.
“I swear by the Great Eye of Jerda Bees Hysteen
that everything I say is the truth of my heart.”
I looked at the piety of his eyeless face and
felt shabby and out of place. He and I belted down the fruity liqueur and shot
down five more as fast as Agara poured them. Whatever is in Shalouque had a mild
calming effect on humans but it blasted Copperians. This was going to be the
greatest most devious and complicated lie this Cleric- Cop had ever told and,
judging by the amount of fortification, it had to be.
He sits back takes a deep breath and starts.
“We found Celer Vann in one of the rooms of an
opulent and expensive Plythian Brothel. Plythian prostitution is disturbing
enough, but lets just say, this Brothel catered to very sophisticated tastes.
The problem is that we have no intel on any one partaking of their services.
Except this Vann. Incredible secrecy.”
My stomach turned just a bit at the thought of
soliciting a giant multi-gendered worm with too many boneless limbs and too many
body apertures. I have to admit a small prejudice toward non- bipedal types. I
don’t mind limbs up to six, more than that I find disturbing.
“We have to consider the moral implication of an
Alterian frequenting such an establishment. Our Autopsy showed that he died from
a long needle-like instrument inserted into the right ear and out the left
causing a brain hemorrhage. We suspect that the device was a Picto, one of Kit
Twelve used by Royal Plythian Courtesans. Don’t ask, I don’t know. The guys in
the office insisted on drawing straws to find out how they are used. We found
four illegal Kits and checked them all for DNA evidence…all clean. Doesn’t mean
much, we might have missed one or one was smuggled in then out. Upon looking
over the room we noticed I half-full bottle of a rare Earth wine, an Ancient
French Burgundy, and two glasses. There was no evidence of a tussle, no Plythian
claimed to have the Deceased as a client. All looked to be telling the truth.
There was no other species other than Plythians on the location, again, they
could have been warned and fled. There was a torn ticket with Vann from an Earth
Opera now being performed at the Concourse Auditoria on the night of the murder.
The Opera was ‘La Boheme’, we are looking into that.”
He stopped the narrative and took another drink
and ate another Doughnut.
He had me now. A Bishop of their xenophobic
religion deemed me a Copperian. I could never tell the lie he told. If I did, I
would have to have the arrogance and heretical nerve to think that I could tell
one better than a Bishop. I could act, but I could not talk. I pulled out a
flask of Rye Whiskey and handed it to Agara who took a long pull. I then took
out my money clip and handed him a ten c-note. I never even noticed that I still
had my gun. I took it out and put it on the table. Agara handed back the flask
and I took a pull. He took the money and put it in his clip. Then he took my gun
and handed me his. Agara stood and took off his robe capped the bottle and
tipped it over.
I had just become a priest in a mystery religion
that was a mystery to me. Now
I will have to answer to Agara in a very private and personal way. I had full
authority, as a Copperhead, to look into this case. This meant the Coppers were
over their heads. I had to do this with extreme care. The potential for disaster
was giving me the willys. If I screwed up, no one would find my remains.
We walked out of the temple without speaking.
There was no need. He dropped me at the corner of my block, for privacy’s sake.
I sat on bench under a Fruit Elm and looked up
at the lunar-light the pale stream put off when night mode was on line. I poured
myself some coffee and just enjoyed the solitude of the night. A Copper roller
came by on the neighborhood beat. The Copperhead on my side nodded and gave me a
salute and pious hand signal. I guess I would have to go to Copper Seminary when
this was all done. I closed my eyes again.
I didn’t notice the man approaching me.
I opened my eyes annoyed at the intrusion. It
was a male but I couldn’t tell what species. A coat with a high collar and a
large brimmed hat hid his face. The night moisture coalesced into fog about this
time every night. I nodded and slipped my hand on my gun.
“Please I don’t mean to impinge on your peace. I
was told to give you a package and to warn you that your life may be in danger.”
He handed me the package and disappeared into
the fog. I opened the parcel. Inside was a plastine envelope; inside that was
all the stuff Jimmy needed. There was also a stiff piece of paper. On the paper
was a symbol. It looked to be an arrow circled in on itself, like a vortex, with
the arrowhead at the center. I had to get inside. I felt exposed and I had to
get this wired over to Agara. It could be a ceremonial mark or a lead from a
friend. I decided to keep it. All I know is that I had to get home to Jimmy,
that would be a safe place to think on what I now knew. But first I had to go
look up some files on the good Ambassador. Money and power was in this and I was
in as much peril if I knew nothing or if I knew everything. So if I had a
choice, I would go for knowing everything
I walked up the double stairs to avoid the
elevator. As I walked toward my office door
an explosion slammed me to the floor. Flame
roared over me then sucked back into my office. Another blast rocked the
building but I was too dazed to determine where it
originated. Blood flowed from my ears and nose
and my head hurt like I just woke up after a week of a Surinian funeral. I had
to get out of there, I couldn’t afford being question by uninvolved curious
bureaucrats.
I got to my place and spoke my code into a mico
installed in a gum tree. I planted one in my front yard as a reminder of Earth.
The AI that found its brain hidden in the floor of my place had sense links
anywhere I found interesting. I was
given an audio update, from the link in my watch. It told me of those seen
around my place and if the interior of my compartment was safe. No one had
tampered with my place. Jimmy, however, was not inside.
“When did Jimmy Deano leave and did he leave
alone?” I said to the tree.
“Do you ever wonder what people think of you
talking into mail boxes and trees. Why not fashion me a ambulatory body?” The
tree asked.
“What have you got to complain about. Most of
you get to run houses and that’s all. You get to watch organics all day and
night. And I remind you that giving you such a wide awareness is against the law
and dangerous.” I countered.
“Don’t get me wrong I am grateful. Still in for
and apple in for a banana.”
“I don’t know what that means…not now. We have
work to do. Give!”
“E opped a short bein soon lev.”
“Right after I left?”
Why had he come and gone? I know the
conversation about a mobile body wasn’t over. The idea had merit- but first
things first. The tree spoke a kind of pidg-latin. It knew this was important. I
programmed my AI cortex to speak in a language we in the Service invented in
case we were taken prisoner.
“Check field. If clear switch to common speech.”
“Getting rusty ole son? I was just being
cautious. There is no longer a link to your office. A suspicious personage
placed several Gene Seeker Det-nates in the office about mid-day.”
That kind of explosive tech was special opts
stuff that any one of four Species would use. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
There was too long a pause. “No near entry. I
have the memory of no emanate danger to you if you entered your office.”
I leaned against my beloved tree and was getting
tired of all this intrigue.
“Why wasn’t I warned? It’s a bomb nitwit.”
Again the long pause. My computer is sometimes
sensitive to insults. “The bombs were not for you. Nitwit!”
Damn, Jimmy must have got nervous and went back
to the office. Chrizz Jimmy was my bud. Was he in this somehow?
“List all people who entered my office.” Only my
friends, supposedly, had the entry codes.
“Commander Agara came in and entered your new
license into your terminal. He had a sample of mixed DNA, his and yours. You a
copper now?”
“Yes, but I’m sure it’s temporary. I expected
him. Next.”
“A Gray announced as 4345232. It came in and
sat, waited, then it left.”
A Gray had my codes? Now, there is a weird
thing. Pliadians kept to themselves. The little living computers had pissed
everyone off for the centuries of visitation and abductions. Having a
conversation with them is impossible. If you mixed an Accountant, Psychic, and a
Physicist you get a Gray.
“Yes. It is a personal one. To the Gray in your
office.”
Grays, being little bullies, don’t like personal
link ups and usually did it in-groups. If I linked with this one I could always
link to him but he would never again link to me without his buddies. This was
serious and getting weirder by the hour. I decided to go inside before I tried a
mind-link with a Gray. I could lose some time and a little DNA. I wanted my
Computer to keep an eye. The door opened to me and I went in and walked to my
bar and poured a whiskey. I didn’t have much time before the Coppers showed up
and let me know whose pieces were splattered all over and what was left of my
office. I was beginning to think it wasn’t Jimmy. I took off my coat and threw
it over a chair. I pulled my favorite chair away from the window and sat down. I
slugged the whiskey down and ordered my computer to link me.
“Should I keep an eye on you? Or does my being a
nitwit make you feel unsafe?
“I’m sorry for the insult. Please watch out for
me.” It was like being married.
“Very well I’ll put up a dampening field. You’re
forgiven.”
I linked up. The disorientation was alarming.
Thoughts flowed between us with no order or reason. I took the chance that what
I knew was still in a swirl and had not coalesced fully in my brain. It would be
confusing and would offer nothing to the Grays if they were involved.
“Not working- on- most- you think.” Came the
first clear thought.
“Wonder-I-You-office?” I hated this.
“Mating rituals- dream-wish you- Alterian
female- fruitless.”
I forgot about that little thought stream, with
some embarrassment. Funny how purulent thoughts in humans are so clear. All the
other species up here thing Humans are one step above apes- in- heat, maybe they
were right.
“Not- you- responding- earlier inactivity - work
place-mine.”
I was in no mode to chat.
“All -we-concerned-you. Matter much -you
-outcome solution.”
They were concerned, imagine that…
“Warning note -I- saved in place - Primary
favorable outcome- for all-solution.”
That would calm them a bit…
“Observe-we-add-Matters - you.”
…only because you already know something.
“Observation-add-favorable outcome-Optimum
duration.”
I could use the help.
Well that was that. Grays have an interest. I
let them know I know. Alterians have an interest. They know I will find out.
Copperians have an interest. They are concerned it will soil the force.
Plythians have an interest. God knows why and what these things think.
The door belled. I got up knowing who was there.
When I opened the door it was not who I had expected.
The Claagaree wrapped his four tentacles around
me, tight enough to hurt and make breathing difficult. A mean looking Sellaan
walked in after him and slammed the door. I guess they had a truce. They
generally hate each other and have for centuries.
His low rumbling voice flowed out of the
four-foot tall and five-foot wide body. Sellaans did not speak with their mouths
their whole body vibrated.
“Shut off and delete our coming.”
I did as I was ordered. My computer would of
course not take that order.
Behind me, came a high thin threatening voice,
but cute. Like the voice from an ancient Disney cartoon. Some mouse in white
gloves, if I remember right.
“Ask yourself dis, Human. Wha could possibly git
da two of us to cooperate and be in da
same room wit you?”
“I want for you to have a listen to us. Without
we should hurt you. You relax and be quite.” The deep blue Sellaan boomed,
rattling the dishes in my pantry.
I did as I was ordered. The tentacles let loose
and I fell to the floor. I sat, cross-legged, so that I would not offend the
Sellaan.
“We have worked hard to create this
understanding. This Quarter Rim, Section 56561 of our Galaxy, as you Humans call
it, has been working fine and semi-safe being in the status quo. We have reason
to believe that another group of star- species is heading our way and gonna be
up to no good. We don’t know their intentions and we can’t afford petty
squabbles to leave us weak. You Humans don’t seem to understand the need for
trust and tradition and doing what is needed. You are a pain in the retrio.”
If I were polite I would not receive as bad a
beating. I was going to get a beating or these two would not feel like they did
their job. Both Species have a very strong work ethic.
“Utter!” The tentacled thug chirped.
“What species detected the others coming?”
The rumble had a bit of respect in it, I think.
“Fligering Grays went visiting again.”
This was getting strange. What had the little
bastards found?
I took the beating having learned something. I
would have thanked them for their good work if they show up…I’m thinking his
death and the stab wound coincided. Another thing there wasn’t any alien DNA on
his weasel. Wouldn’t you think he would have had some love juice on him?
If I hadn’t
beaten me into darkness. Something was bothering them it was clear.
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