Also, speaking of May, did you know that May is National Short Story Month? Go ahead and tell your friends. The more of us who know about it, the more of us there will be who can celebrate short stories together.

And don’t forget to celebrate Towel Day in memory of Douglas Adams at the end of the month (May 25th). I’ll try to have a towel on me.

The stories we have for you this month are wonderful, and we think you will greatly appreciate them. Those stories are “Two Hearts, Two Minds” by Jo Thomas, “The Tale of the White Tiger” by Donald Jacob Uitvlugt, “The Cadet” by S.P. Parish, and Cuddly Furballs of Contentment. If you haven’t had a chance to read any of these yet, I would recommend finding a little time to get one or two (or more) in. I mean, it’s National Short Story Month after all, right? But I know you’d read all of them anyways because you guys are really awesome like that. And I know it’s really hard to miss, but our art for May, Sébastien Hue’s “Back to the Modern Hive”, is almost pure science fiction eye candy. I can tell you it has my eyes drooling. The only thing I think we’re missing this month are the Q&A’s, but don’t worry. We’ll try to have those back next month.

If you’re thinking about sticking around for June, we’ll have another set of great stories coming your way. We’ll have “Out of the Fire” by Ron Collins, “Atonement” by Shane Gavin, “A Memory Deferred” by Kurt MacPhearson, and “X, Y, and Z” by Robert Pritchard.

Also, we know that you may be feeling nostalgic for any number of our older stories. That’s understandable. We have been around for nearly a year now. Can you believe it’s been that long already? But don’t be afraid to check out any of our older stories. They’re still on here. And if you’d like to have one on your Kindle, Nook, or other e-reader device, you can find back issues to purchase here and now we’re on Amazon. The only back issues we currently offer are issues one and two from August 2012 and September 2012 respectively. But we should have a few more coming up at the end of the month. If you’ve been waiting for issues three and four, my sincerest apologies. Again, they should be available soon. And I’ll even see if I can’t throw in an extra one or two in there for you because all of you have been so patient.

“Back to the Modern Hive” by Sébastien Hue © 2012

About the Artist

Sebastien Hue aka Shue13 is a self-taught digital artist from France, Paris. Passionate by science fiction and visual arts, he started to learn Photoshop to make logos for music bands and progressively went deep into CG graphics, 3D programs and matte painting techniques through the art of Dylan Cole and other masters of this genre. Developing his skills on his own, he has come from a long way since four years to deliver different artworks from matte painting landscapes to digital painting mostly environmental and sci-fi turned.

The packet ship appeared exactly on time. One moment, there was nothing and the docking space was empty and in the next it was not. The beauty of the jump drive.

“Permission to dock, Xenologist Arri merk-Gweld.”

Arri smiled. Tome showed manners older than the ship she was in charge of. Would she be like this every visit? Or did she show this semi-formal deference because it was his first packet delivery?

“Permission granted, Captain Tome dun-Spais.”

The packet ship’s thrusters fired and the pilot maneuvered it into the station’s dock. To an observer, it would look very strange — a cargo ship large enough for a crew of ten attached to a station built for one and not even a tenth of its size.

Arri let the station’s AI handle the docking process and checked the inventory against the list given to Tome. For a third and final time, he noted that there would be enough room to house everything requested. His judgement was precise and bound to be well marked by his superiors. He produced a request for the resources he would need by Tome’s next visit and attached it to his outgoing report.

The AI chimed to let him know the docking cycle was finished. In response, he rose and walked the short distance from control console to lock door. It irised open on the Captain herself.

“Tome!” he said as he pulled her into a hug, “Your feathers are looking exceptional today!”

She replied with the indulgent smile of an old family friend, not phased by his reference to her colonial heritage or his total lack of basic politenesses, “You only say that because you haven’t had company in a Standard year, Watcher.”

Arri grinned and held her a little closer than necessary. “Only my own two hearts to listen to.”

“How goes the watching?”

It was a system much like any other: an average star orbited by a handful of unexceptional planets of various sizes. That one of those planets supported life was not unusual, any more than the net of artificial satellites that surrounded it. The only oddity, in fact, was the disparity in technology.

“Most of them are fighting,” he said, gesturing at the images projected by the console.

The dominant species on the life-bearing planet was only, at best, in the Iron Age. Based on the atmospheric spectroscopy, they were working on various forms of steel but only in limited quantities.

Tome frowned. “Most?”

The resolution of the cameras, all kept in various orbits of the planet so that there was always full coverage, was not high enough to see the aboriginals in great detail. The exact nature of their physiology was impossible to determine, let alone the nature of the weapons they used. Arri would be unable to recognise one face to face. He only had a rough idea of their size and shape, but the scars of the species’ warring were highly visible: structures left in ruins, fields without crops, refugees fleeing one site for another.

“Most,” Arri said as he flicked at controls. “There are some areas of peace. As my predecessor reported to the Council in their packets.”

“I have an answering packet from the Council,” said Tome, “A recording.”

“Put it in the reader.”

The recording played: a lengthy self-introduction by the Council Secretary who insisted on using his full, formal, pure-blood name; a summary of Arri’s last report; and the Council’s findings.

Arri threw himself on the console, hammering at controls until the Secretary paused.

“How can they?” he raged.

“Colonise?” asked Tome, more amused by his response than upset by the contents of the Council’s packet, “You watch the aboriginals go to war every day and you ask why the Council wishes to colonise?”

“They’re not a threat. They’re not advanced enough!”

Tome pointedly replayed the Secretary saying “The last and previous reports indicate that conflict seems to be driving significant advances in aboriginal technology.”

“The people of the Commonwealth were equally war-like in their time. They grew out of it. So—”

“Speak for your own ancestors,” interrupted Tome as she fingered the iridescent feathers Arri had already called attention to.

He ran a hand through his own, pure-blood hair and gave an embarrassed smile. “You know what I mean.”

“They will be better for it,” she eventually said, “In three or four generations, the Commonwealth will return and introduce them to our culture and technology.”

Arri took a deep breath to steady himself. “But they’ll lose so much of themselves.”

“They will be part of the Commonwealth.”

“They have arts in spite of their conflicts. Architecture. Crafts. I can only see the larger works with this resolution,” he gestured at the projections, “But they are unique.”

“We also have our own arts.”

“And the Secretary said nothing of the Enclave!”

“Enclave?”

Arri shifted the images to show a city that seemed, at least at this level of detail, to be spun from stone. It was as captivating as any Commonwealth settlement. Arri felt both his hearts beat a little faster, looking at the incredible shapes the aboriginals had managed with their low technology.

“I wonder if they’ve discovered sewers yet,” said Tome.

Arri smiled. “We can’t see much on an individual level but there has been no sign of medium or large scale conflict here in at least ten local years according to the data.”

“That’s not very long,” Tome replied.

“This site was identified by the assisting software. If it’s showing signs that even the software can recognise, it has potential.”

“And you reported this to the Council?”

“In the latest packet. But it would’ve been in the data attached to the summaries since the Enclave was noticed.”

Tome nodded.

“It would be a shame to colonise the planet and lose the best of the aboriginal culture for the sake of time the Commonwealth can well afford,” Arri said.

Tome looked at him.

“They can’t use electromagnetic waves,” he added. “If they even know what they are. It’ll be some time before they’re in a position to talk to us, let alone attack us.”

“Spoken like a true Watcher.” She shook her head at him. “You’ve been given your orders, Arri.”

“I can’t do it!”

“Arri—”

“I won’t do it! Not until I know the Council has considered the Enclave.”

Tome looked at him, tipping her head. “The order to tow the station back to Commonwealth territory wasn’t given until we’d finished loading. So we have your supplies. You can have them,” She sighed. “The crew and I will be gone when we’ve finished unloading. I’ll take your packets back and return with the Council’s findings as soon as I can.”

“The Council will change their minds when they’ve seen my packet.”

“They might not,” Tome said softly, “There’s too much war here. Be prepared.”

“I won’t do it, whatever they say.”

* * *

Arri watched the console — watched the aboriginals as closely as he could — and tried to ignore the order to colonise the planet. Instead, he allowed his mind to dwell on the report he sent back with Tome. The extra evidence could give the aboriginal society a reprieve. So he waited.

Each Standard morning he woke and went about his routine, trying not think of the disgrace of ignoring the Council’s orders. He might never be allowed off-planet again. He would be shunned. He would be disowned. He would be less than nothing. And so, as time passed, it was if his hearts took up words. One beat out “do it, do it,” the other “wait, wait, wait.”

He knew no harm would come to the aboriginals under colonisation. Tome was right. They would be better off. The Council would send Educators to the planet in a few generations to teach the colonials how to be productive members of the Commonwealth. But their culture — many cultures, surely, at this stage in their development — would die. No amount of archival or archaeological research would ever reclaim it. What did Tome know of her ancestors? What might the Enclave become?

It became hard to wait. He told himself that the Council would change their decision based on his last report and worked out how long it would be until he knew. It might take a Standard month for them to debate the matter, but it would be discussed. Then Tome and her packet ship would be sent back. He had to give her time. He had to give the Council time. So he waited.

He watched wars flare across the planet and each new scar on its surface encouraged his obedient heart. “Do it, do it.” How could he wait when the aboriginals tore themselves apart? There was too much war. Arri wished he could walk among them and tell them to stop. He wanted to use the Commonwealth technology to force a pause, however brief, in the killing.

When it grew to be too much, he changed the views and watched the Enclave, and how a few other settlements seemed to emulate the calm. Some places had not seen war or riots in his short time as their xenologist. “Wait, wait, wait,” his gentle heart called. How could he sacrifice everything for the sake of a hurried decision? But there were more wars than peace, and his obedient heart became louder. And his common sense started to question jeopardising his career over a population that would have to join the Commonwealth eventually.

Then the Enclave was attacked. The plain it was built on turned black as enemy troops gathered. This single peaceful settlement had united the aboriginals in a way Arri would never have dreamed. Even if he had been able to resolve the images to show individuals, he would never have been able to put exact numbers to what he saw. A hundred thousand, perhaps more, gathered at the glorious city’s gates.

The first volley, some ranged weapon that would always remain unidentifiable, battered the city walls. A chunk of rock large enough to be seen by the orbital cameras flew away.

“No!”

He could not believe it. Would not believe it.

“Don’t!” Arri screamed at the deaf images, “You can’t!”

As the militarized plague surged forwards, he started to sob, closing his eyes and covering his ears. Nothing stopped the sound of his two hearts beating.

* * *

“Permission to dock, Xenologist Arri merk-Gweld.”

Arri bowed his head as the voice of Tome filled his control room. His eyes still wet with tears of mourning, he let his hand creep toward a particular button, just as it had countless times since Tome’s last visit. He brushed it gently with his fingers. There was nothing else he could do. He should have done it sooner.

“Permission granted, Captain Tome dun-Spais.”

The packet ship’s thrusters fired and the pilot gently maneuvered it. Far away from them, yet very near considering the size of Commonwealth space, a thousand or so camera satellites also fired their thrusters, altering their orbits to bring them crashing to the planet’s surface.

The ship and station kissed. Arri could only imagine the shooting stars appearing to the aboriginals.

The station’s AI started the docking process as Arri imagined the colonisation process. When the satellites were near to the ground, they would release biological and technological viruses into the atmosphere. The aboriginals would be unable to avoid infection as the viruses would persist for generations — and the aboriginals would become colonials.

The AI chimed. With a forced smile, he rose from his chair and walked the short distance from control console to lock door. It irised open on Tome.

“Arri!” she grinned, “Good news for you! The Council has reconsidered your reports and rescinded your orders.”

He could say nothing. He could only blink as his hearts beat out “no, no, no,” finally united in a common phrase.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Arri swallowed, forcing his mouth to work. “My last orders were to release the colonising viruses.”

“You’ve done it?” she asked, her eyes widening.

Arri hung his head. “I had to follow orders. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“The Council wouldn’t give me permission to leave earlier.”

“It wasn’t that,” Arri shook his head, the image of the lost city still caught in his mind. “There was too much killing.”

“The Council didn’t think so,” said Tome, fingering the latest packet.

“Circumstances changed. The data I sent back in my last packet was no longer applicable.”

They were silent for a while.

“The aboriginals will be better for it,” Arri said eventually.

— — — — —

About the Author

Jo Thomas writes speculative fiction, tending towards dark fantasy. She has taken the advice “write what you know” to heart and, as a result, werewolves now turn up in the strangest places. (None were harmed in the writing of the recently accepted “25 Ways To Kill A Werewolf” but friendly vets were pumped for advice.)

To find out more about Jo, her pack of Hellhounds and her interest in swords along with the odd piece of fiction that doesn’t contain werewolves, have a look at http://www.journeymouse.net/

— — — — —

Jo Thomas © 2013

Blind Li Xiao surveyed the marketplace. The sensor net embedded in his storyteller’s robes fed signals directly to his brain. The citizenship transponders exactly matched the number of heat signatures. A world firmly loyal to the Empire, then. Or one too afraid to act otherwise.

A passive scan showed at least two peacekeepers in the market. Probably more secret police. He would have to be careful in his story selection. Something from one of the official chronicles. Something he could use for his own purposes.

He beat his staff on the ground three times. The bells at the head chimed out their message. Be still and hearken. Blind Li Xiao is about to begin his tale. He chanted the introductory poem in his clear, high voice:

“When wicked ministers subvert the good,

“The Systems lose the beautiful and true.

“On Heaven’s River vast, White Tiger sails,

“Her course set by the pirate Madam Hu.”

An audience gathered in front of Blind Li Xiao. Children pressed close, their grandparents behind them. The young women and men stood at the edge, feigning disinterest or fearing entrapment. Blind Li Xiao swept the head of his staff in a broad arc as he spoke.

“The stars are vast and Heaven is wide. Yet the Mandate of Heaven is clear. It is the will of Heaven to unite the Eight-Thousand Systems under the rule of the Son of Heaven. Those who support this rule prosper; those who oppose this rule do so in vain.”

One of the peacekeepers pinged Blind Li Xiao’s citizenship transponder. He would have smiled if he were not already into his story. The peacekeeper would find everything in order. Blind Li Xiao was a storyteller licensed for all of the Eight-Thousand Systems. What more he was would not be revealed by a simple ping.

“No one knows which of the Eight-Thousand Systems gave birth to the girl-child who became Madam Hu. She was not NeoHan. She was not one of those blessed by the Dragon Star nor one of their seed. That much is certain.

“At a young age this girl was sold as a pleasure slave to Captain Hu of the Imperial Navy. In spite of his questionable morals, Captain Hu extended Imperial justice throughout the Eight-Thousand Systems and brought low the foes of the Empire. Three times he led fleets into the wild Jianghu region, three times he fought the bandits there, and three times he returned victorious, bringing many captives and exotic goods back to civilized systems.”

A young girl caught Blind Li Xiao’s attention. She sat straight, her gaze fixed on the storyteller. Her transponder gave her age as twelve years, though she seemed younger on other scans. Malnutrition, perhaps. Blind Li Xiao turned his sightless eyes toward the girl as if he was speaking only to her.

“During these twelve years of campaigns the young girl learned how to fight. At first she only watched Captain Hu and his men. But twice the bandits of Jianghu boarded Captain Hu’s own ship, and twice the girl saved the man’s life: once with a kitchen knife, and once with a jeweled dagger he had given her. The night she saved his life a second time, Captain Hu took the young woman to be his wife.

“Thus the pleasure slave became Madam Hu. And no one might remember her name if Captain Hu had not entered the Jianghu region a fourth time. If he had never set eyes on the planet Binan Suo, poets to this day might be singing the praises of Admiral Hu, his wife mentioned in passing, if at all. But after Binan Suo, everything changed.”

* * *

Madam Hu could not believe what her husband had done. She knew Captain Hu better than anyone, knew that the only thing separating a pirate from a Navy captain was an Imperial commission. She had lived life with him. And then she saw what her husband had done on Binan Suo. She heard the stories the survivors in the ship’s cargo hold told.

“To Admiral Hu!”

Madam Hu ducked into an alcove to let the two drunken officers pass. The ship was en route to the Imperial Planet, where her husband would receive a hero’s welcome and the long-coveted rank of admiral. What better reward for a butcher and rapist and enslaver of women. She would not let him do to any others what he had done to her.

She would have given her husband a final chance to explain, but what she saw in her husband’s bedchamber demanded action. Madam Hu slew her husband in his sleep with the jeweled dagger he had given her. When she was sure that he was dead, she hacked off his right hand. She pressed the severed hand against the control panel in the captain’s room. A few inputted commands and the ship was cut off from the rest of the fleet. She made her way from the captain’s bedchamber to the cargo hold.

She met no one on her errand. It was the middle of the ship’s night. The captain’s hand gave her access to the hold. Prisoners blinked in the light spilling from the open door.

“Quiet. All of you. We can take the ship. But only if we act quickly and quietly.”

Madam Hu explained her plan to the prisoners. They did not seem inclined to believe her until she began unlocking their serving collars with the captain’s hand. At that they fell quickly into line, some taking their places throughout the ship, some following Madam Hu to the bridge.

The captain’s hand gave Madam Hu access to the bridge. The lone lieutenant on watch duty turned around instantly. His face went white.

“Do exactly as I say and you will not get hurt.”

The lieutenant swallowed and nodded. At Madam Hu’s command, he opened the doors to the officers’ quarters. That was the prisoners’ cue to do what must be done. She had the enlisted gassed in their barracks. With in minutes it was all over. Madam Hu activated the communication system.

“This ship is now under the command of Madam Hu. If you surrender you will not be harmed.”

The whole ship seemed to pause, then came the response. A woman’s voice. “The ship is ours, Madam Captain. We had a brief problem in the officers’ mess, but that’s all cleaned up now.”

Only then did Madam Hu permit herself a smile. She turned to the lieutenant of the watch. “Set a course for the Jianghu region.”

“But the fleet will notice we’re breaking off.”

“By the time they realize what has actually happened, we will be long gone.”

The lieutenant made the course correction. Madam Hu looked over his shoulder and nodded when she was sure the course was true. She rested Captain Hu’s hand on the control panel of the ship.

“Transfer the command codes of the ship to me.”

The lieutenant blinked. Then he looked at the severed hand. He entered a few commands into his console.

“It’s ready for you.”

Madam Hu removed her husband’s hand and put her right hand in its place. She closed her eyes as her palm was scanned. The computer chirped merrily. The ship was now truly hers.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m sorry.”

A confused look crossed the lieutenant’s face. Quicker than a jungle cat, Madam Hu slit the man’s throat. The women with Madam Hu looked at her and at what she had done. Madam Hu nodded at the body.

“A man who has betrayed one master would have betrayed us too.” She cleaned her dagger on the control panel of the ship.

* * *

“And thus was Captain Hu’s ship rechristened the White Tiger with traitor’s blood. The ship slipped away from the rest of the fleet into the wilderness. When the gassed crew awoke, Madam Hu offered them a chance to join her rebellion. Those who refused, she locked in the cargo hold like common prisoners. The remainder she ordered to train her people in the running of a fighting ship. On a distant planet, she sold the crew loyal to the Empire into slavery. And so began Madam Hu’s career as a pirate.”

Blind Li Xiao had the audience now. He could feel their attention on him.

“Madam Hu started small: ferrying bandits from one of their bases to another, looting transports bound for distant colonies, capturing ships of prisoners heading from the Jianghu region into the Inner Systems. As the skill of her crew grew in piracy, the original sailors chaffed under Madam Hu’s rule. The woman caught wind of an impending mutiny. Knowing the risks of an open fight on a space vessel, she challenged the leader of the mutineers to a duel.”

The girl in the front row had inched closer to Blind Li Xiao, probably without realizing it. Blind Li Xiao had chosen his audience well.

“For some time Madam Hu had adopted the custom of wearing mannish clothes and bearing a sword. The Empire’s champion must have been astonished to see such an unwomanly woman wield her blade, for it is said that she killed her opponent in the first minute of the duel. Madam Hu then hunted out the leaders of the mutiny and had them exposed to the coldness of space. The remainder of the original crew she sold into slavery, joining their fellows. From that moment on, the only men to board the ship — with one exception — were either passengers or cargo. The White Tiger became crewed only by women.”

Interest radiated from the girl. Curiosity tinged with sadness and wonder. Here was a story. Stories intersecting stories. Blind Li Xiao hoped he would have the chance to discover how the girl’s story intersected with the story he now told.

“From that point on, the White Tiger entered into history. Madam Hu’s role in the Great Jianghu Rebellion is most difficult to ascertain. Of course there is her famous voyage with Lady Bao, but that is a story for another time.

“Such was the age in which Madam Hu lived that she came to be seen as a defender of the oppressed. Unlike our own blessed age, in those days the people’s tears and cries to the Son of Heaven for justice did not reach the Jade Throne. Wicked and unrighteous ministers and governors dared to usurp the will of Heaven. Madam Hu upheld justice and righteousness, but only as understood by her pirate’s code, and only so far as it pertained to women.

“And women flocked to her. Escaped slaves and failed courtesans, tradeswomen and colonists. No woman who found herself on the White Tiger was ever turned away. As the story of Lady Bao demonstrates, Madam Hu would even refuse profit on occasion if the voyage aided a woman’s vengeance.

“For many years the planetary ministers of the Outer Systems and the Governor of Jianghu tried to capture Madam Hu and bring her to trial. But being unjust themselves, they of course had no success in capturing her. Corrupt ministers of the court kept the reports on Madam Hu from reaching Imperial eyes. However, they could not keep Prince Shen from seeing the record of their incompetence.”

* * *

Prince Shen sighed. Reports, endless reports. When he had chosen bureaucratic service over the military life, Prince Shen had not imagined that the foundation of the Empire was a mountain of paperwork. The further he rose in the ranks, the more the paperwork seemed to multiply. The life of a bureaucrat was far different from life as the fifth son of the Emperor’s third wife. Yet everywhere he went he was constrained by duty. Prince Shen sighed and turned the page.

He frowned as he read the next report. He reread it. This could not be. He snatched up the report and hurried to the office of his superior, the Inspector for Outer System Affairs.

“Have you read this?”

He threw it onto the Inspector’s desk. The man glanced at the title of the report and grunted. “It’s old news.”

“Old news? This…this Madam Hu has broken countless laws and is directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of thousands of Imperial citizens.”

The Inspector gave a barking laugh. “Thousands? Don’t exaggerate, Deputy Inspector. Next you’ll be telling me you believe the rumors that she defeated a dozen imperial cruisers with her one little ship.”

“Of course not.” Prince Shen did not say that this was the first time he had heard of such rumors. How many reports had there been about Madam Hu? Why was this the first time he had heard of her? “I apologize for over-reacting.”

“Think nothing of it, Deputy Inspector. Though you may want to consider that holiday I’ve mentioned to you before. You’re working too hard.”

“Undoubtedly, Inspector. Thank you, Inspector.”

Prince Shen returned to his desk, but instead of finishing his work for the day, he ordered his subordinates to pull every report they had on Madam Hu. Some of them gave him odd looks that made him wonder how many reports on the piratess they had hidden from him in the past. But they brought the reports. Stacks of reports that covered half of Prince Shen’s desk.

Prince Shen read every word of the reports. As he read them, he realized that, reading what was unsaid in the reports, Madam Hu’s actions could be understood as responses to the unrighteous behavior of others. The thought came into Prince Shen’s head that he would very much like to meet this piratess. If greed only moved her, he would himself bring her to the tribunal for execution. But if a righteous heart motivated her crimes, he would use all of his influence to win an Imperial pardon for her.

The next morning he asked his superior for his holiday time. The inspector was surprised, but granted the request. Prince Shen dressed simply, in the unbleached silk of a journeyman merchant, and carried an unadorned sword. On a single-person craft, he set out for the Jianghu region. He was in the region only a few weeks when he came across a warship in an unexpected place. His ping received no electronic banner from the ship, but a scan revealed a white tiger painted boldly on its side.

Prince Shen had prepared for this moment. He signaled a distress code. He thought for a moment that the White Tiger would pass him by, but at last it turned and headed for his ship. Its cargo bay opened like a giant maw to swallow his small craft whole. Prince Shen shuddered. He was now truly in the tiger’s jaw.

Guards armed with pistols and swords met him at the door of his vessel. He should not have been surprised to see these guards were women, but he was. They stood nearly as tall as he was, in crisp black uniforms with no insignia. They bade him come with them. Though they did not make him give up his sword, it was clear what the result would be if he should draw it.

The bright colors and sounds evidenced in the corridors made it clear to Prince Shen that the White Tiger was more than a base of operations for its crew. It was a home. He even saw women playing with children, all of them girls. Their mothers snatched them back as Shen was marched past.

At last they reached a large chamber. There were many seated women in the room, but Prince Shen only had eyes for the woman on the raised chair in the center. She could only be Madam Hu. Prince Shen would have recognized her anywhere, in spite that she dressed no differently than the women who guarded him.

He had not expected her to be so beautiful. She seemed but a young woman, and when she rose, it was with a feline strength and beauty.

“State your name and your business here.”

Prince Shen smiled his most charming smile. “I am but a simple merchant, conducting an exploratory survey for my company. Thank Heaven that you found me. I was almost out of fuel.”

Madam Hu frowned but did not say anything. The woman on her left spoke. “You are far from the normal trade currents.”

“The greater the risks the greater the profits, milady.”

Madam Hu seemed to consider his words. The woman on her right spoke. “What sort of company do you work for?”

“We are interested in developing mining rights in the Jianghu region.”

Madam Hu’s frown deepened. “You will wait here while we consider your answers and examine your craft. Consider yourself fortunate. Not many men enjoy the hospitality of the White Tiger. Fewer men live to tell the tale.”

The two women on either side of Madam Hu smiled wicked smiles at her words, but Madam Hu herself simply studied Prince Shen. Were he less than a prince, he might have shrunk from such a stare. He still had the urge to fall to his knees and confess the truth. He wondered if the rumors of Madam Hu’s mystical powers were true. But still he was able to meet her gaze without flinching and say nothing.

The wait seemed an eternity. At last one of the pirates ran into the room and had a whispered conversation with Madam Hu. He thought he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, but her face betrayed no other emotion. The pirate stepped back, and Madam Hu tossed something before Prince Shen.

It tumbled on the floor. When it came to rest, he knew all was lost. Such a small thing. A dragon carved from the finest jade, bearing his name in Imperial script. The seal that marked him as an Imperial prince had also sealed his fate.

Before any of the pirates could speak, Prince Shen stepped forward. “I demand trial by combat.”

This demand threw the pirates’ council into an uproar. A gesture from Madam Hu silenced all.

“I accept. If he wants a quick death, I shall give it to him.”

Before any of the other pirates could object, Madam Hu was out of her chair with her sword drawn. Prince Shen had hardly time to draw his own blade before she was upon him. Steel rang against steel. Prince Shen had no time to worry that his opponent was a woman. He was too busy fighting for his life.

Prince Shen had had the finest fencing instructors in the Eight-Thousand Systems. But as it is a capital crime to kill a prince of the Empire, he had never had to fight in such a fashion before. He acted without thinking, creating a flashing dance of thrust, feint and parry. His heart threatened to burst in his chest, sweat rained down from his body, and still he fought on.

What had begun as combat became a martial dance. There was no Madam Hu, there was no Prince Shen. In their battle, they became greater than just two souls. They had found an equal, each in the other.

* * *

“Prince Shen lowered his guard for an attack. Madam Hu pierced his heart through the ribs. She gasped out as she hit, for Prince Shen’s sword came up under her ribs, piercing her heart as well. The man and the woman fell inward, each impaled on the other’s sword. They died in each other’s embrace.

“The crew of the White Tiger tried to carry on Madam Hu’s legacy, but without her leadership and strength of will, they soon went their separate ways. Some found a home with others bands of the Jianghu bandits. Some returned to their old ways of life. Some simply faded from history entirely.

“So ended the career of Madam Hu, pirate captain of the White Tiger. May her death serve as a warning to all who would rebel against the will of Heaven.”

Applause. Blind Li Xiao bowed deeply. Already he could hear the clink of coins at his feet and feel the addition of part-credits to his Imperial account. People stood, preparing to leave.

“No. That can’t be how it ends.”

The girl. She stood with her hands on her hips, no doubt frowning and staring at Blind Li Xiao defiantly.

“Who is the storyteller here, young lady?” Laughter from the crowd. “And how would you have the story end?”

Silence.

“But you are right. There is more to the story.” The crowd stopped, turning to Blind Li Xiao with interest. “There are those who believe that at the moment of Madam Hu’s death, the Immortal Zhongli Quan appeared to her. Zhongli Quan asked Madam Hu if she wished to be brought to Heaven. She answered that she would rather sail the River of Heaven forever, fighting against the unjust treatment of women. These people claim that when an innocent woman cries loudly enough to Heaven, the White Tiger may sail down to her. Madam Hu at the helm, Prince Shen at her side.”

The crowd was silent. Blind Li Xiao smiled. “But that is just a superstition of the uneducated.”

The crowd laughed. They continued their gifts of coins and part-credits, walking away one by one. At last Blind Li Xiao stood alone. Alone with the young girl.

“So, did the other ending satisfy you, young miss?”

The girl remained silent for a moment. “If I understand that part of your story, it means that the tale hasn’t ended.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, the White Tiger is still sailing the River of Heaven. But you don’t believe that, do you?”

Blind Li Xiao smiled and patted the girl on her head. “Help me pick up the coins, child, and I will reward you.”

The girl hesitated for a moment, making Blind Li Xiao wonder what sort of life she led. But she bent down and gathered up the coins at the storyteller’s feet. Blind Li Xiao opened his pouch and the girl dumped them in. All of them, another mark in her favor. Blind Li Xiao cinched up his pouch and tucked it into his sash. He could feel the girl’s confusion and disappointment.

“Come. Walk with me.” Again the hesitation. “I promise that no harm of any sort will come to you while you are with me.”

“Swear.”

Blind Li Xiao bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He cleared his throat and raised a hand to Heaven. “I swear by the River of Heaven that binds together all the Eight-Thousand Systems that no harm of any sort will come to you while you are in my company.”

The girl took Blind Li Xiao’s hand. Together they walked beyond the town limits. When Blind Li Xiao stopped and turned to the girl, he felt her tense. He made a soothing sound.

“My child, I do not know what life you have led, but I can guess. You have no father or mother. Or you have parents but they do not love you. They care only for the money your body brings them. You cry yourself to sleep at night. The only escape you find is looking up at the stars and dreaming.”

Large, hot tears fell from the girl’s eyes. She said nothing.

“You’re wondering how I know all this. How does an old blind man know my story? Sad to say, it is a story all too common. But take heart, dear child. We are made of stories — our own stories, and the stories that intersect with ours. Look up.”

On silent wings descended a shuttlecraft. At the helm stood a woman in mannish clothes, a sword on her hip and her consort at her side. The girl let go of Blind Li Xiao’s hand and ran toward the shuttle. Blind Li Xiao bowed to Madam Hu and then threw back his head and laughed. He took hold of his staff and headed toward his next story.

— — — — —

About the Author

Donald Jacob Uitvlugt lives on neither coast of the United States, but mostly in a haunted memory palace of his own design. He strives to write what he calls “haiku fiction”: stories that are small in focus but have a big impact. While he writes in each of the major speculative fiction genres, he especially loves stories that bend and blur genre and subgenre lines: weird westerns, sci-fi horror, steampunk, planetary romance and all such lovely halflings and hybrids.

“The Tale of the White Tiger” in particular takes place in the Eight Thousands System universe, a story setting combining space opera with elements of Chinese wuxia fiction. Donald hopes to relate many more adventures of those who sail the River of Heaven.

His other short fiction has appeared in numerous print and on-line venues, including Ray Gun Revival, the Wily Writers podcast, and the Journal of Unlikely Entomology, as well as the anthologies Sparks, A Fistful of Horrors, and the charity anthology New Sun Rising: Stories for Japan. Find out more at http://haikufiction.blogspot.com.

— — — — —

Donald Jacob Uitvlugt © 2013

“It says here that you scored at the top of your class in strategy, combat maneuvers, and hand-to-hand.”

An average cadet in their last year of training would feel pretty smug right about now.

“You do, however, have a few things here that concern me.”

…too bad I wasn’t your average cadet.

I stood at attention in the General’s office. It was tiny. No one gave the Academy much thought. No one gave it much of a budget either.

It smelled like body odor and paperwork in here. There was a window open, but all that did was blow in the humid ocean breeze. I avoided this place at all costs, but as a final year cadet, I had to come in. Every cadet had to meet with the General in their last year at the Combat Academy.

Let me rephrase that: Every cadet dreaded meeting with the General in their last year at the Combat Academy.

General Muchow was special. He insisted that those who passed his school were going to be more than cannon fodder with nothing to contribute to the war.

No, we were going to be soldiers.

He had a dream: a dream that these cadets would be the Greats when it was all said and done. Years from now, our names would be the ones brought up around the dinner table.

It was a ridiculous idea. Everyone knew graduates from the Combat Academy were on the front lines. We were the cannon fodder.

Muchow shifted his massive humanoid frame into a more intimidating position. Even though I was almost six feet—tall for a human, massive for a female—Muchow was a Kestrel. Short for his species at nine-foot-two. He was sitting and still his eyes were even with mine.

“Cadet Daxen.”

Pause.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you aware of how many demerits there are on your record, cadet?”

I thought for a second.

“One-hundred fourteen, sir.”

“One-hundred sixteen, cadet.”

Crap. I had forgotten about Monday. “Yes, sir. One-hundred sixteen, sir.”

“Are you aware of how many demerits the average cadet graduates with from this academy?”

“No, sir, I can’t say that I am.”

“Eight, cadet.”

I was immediately torn between laughing and vomiting. My face turned crimson.

“Yes, sir.”

“Usually, Cadet Daxen, that would make my decision easy. However, seeing as to who your father is, it is not so simple.”

He said the last like it was the worst insult in the planets. It was, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I hadn’t talked to my father in years. Muchow didn’t know that, and even if he did, he wasn’t going to take any chances. If he put me in a fighter, and I found myself dead, he would find himself peeling potatoes in one of the intergalactic space stations for the rest of his long, Kestrel life. My dad was kind of a big deal.

I hated it. I hoped that was how he interpreted my silence.

Muchow looked me over, disgust plain on his face. “At 0600, you will report for duty at Station 52k. Your orders.” He slid a no nonsense screen my way. “That is all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Muchow humphed; I saluted, grabbed the pad and spun to walk out the door.

“Cadet, one last thing.” I snapped to attention. “When you’re out there, don’t forget who you are.”

Ok. “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

I nodded and walked out of the office, pad in hand. I ran through the halls, typing my personal info in as I went.

Loading…

I stepped out the heavy door, sliding out onto the damp cobblestone streets. The sun was setting over the harbor; I could smell the salt as the breeze hit my face.

Loading…

Loading…

Seriously? My boot began tapping impatiently.

The page began to fill. I stopped, my gaze just skimming over the words.

Stop. Go back. What the…?

I heard a voice call out from down the street. “Brix! Brix! Helll-oooo? What are you do… oh.” It was my closest friend, Eri’ka. She ran up the street towards me with her long legs. “You got your assignment?!” She yelled as she closed in. “I didn’t know you were going to see the General today!” She hit my arm playfully then stopped when she saw my face, “…wha’d you get?”

“C-14,” I whispered, looking down at the pad.

She gasped, the smile returning, “C-14? No kidding! For who?”

“H-362a.”

It dropped. “Oh, shit.”

“Tell me about it.”

 * * *

That night I did something my professors at the academy would have killed to get me do in the past four years: I stayed home and prepared for my assignment. Er’ika assured me that everyone at the bar would understand since I was shipping out so soon after receiving my orders.

Especially after she found out what my orders were.

A C-14 is a body assignment. It meant I would be a bodyguard for whomever the Squad saw fit to assign me to.

Usually, C-14g’s were assigned to emissaries, political figures, or well-known humanitarians.

If I could only be that lucky, I thought.

It wasn’t surprising that the Squad had assigned me to a human since I was human myself, but it was surprising who they assigned me to. All H-300 levels were upper –level officers of the Squad. Very few were assigned bodyguards because of the nature of their work. Actually, there were only three that I knew of, and one was my father—the leader of the Free Armies. The other two were the Squad’s top assassins—a notorious male and female team.

I just happened to draw the female.

Some girls have all the luck.

* * *

I boarded at 0550 with my military issue bag and black space uniform. I was the only Academy Cadet aboard the transport. It was a quiet flight to the station.

We slowed as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. I half listened as he recited the rote information: check in at the command centers before proceeding to your assigned posts. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

I lifted the shield on my window and looked out.

I gasped.

I had never been to an SS before. It was a large metal semi-sphere with ships docked at every possible angle. The one nearest to me had Starsprite printed across the side in standard block letters. If you asked me, it was a pretty lame name for something so massive. The ship was odd-shaped, docked by its cylindrical middle its massive bays hovering on each side.

It looked like a monstrous dragonfly.

If that thing was built for speed, then my name was Cindy.

We came to a stop in the left holding bay. I heard the pneumatic puff of the doors opening, and waited for the transport to empty. Grabbing my bag, I ducked out the door.

My boots stomped down the ramp, and I stopped when a metallic tang hit my nose.

There were people everywhere. Every shape, size, and shade of being imaginable. And the amount of space was unreal. Ships of every size were being loaded and unloaded, polished and tuned.

It hit me: This was real. Real life. Real war. And I was here—smack dab in the middle of it.

A moment of upmost seriousness hit me. Time to see what you’re made of, Brix, I thought. Maybe you should actually try here.

“Cadet Daxen,” a gruff voice from behind me. “It says here you go by ‘Brix.’ Is that why you haven’t made it to a command post, yet? Because that’s what you’ve got in your head? …bricks?”

Or maybe not.

I turned towards the voice at full attention. I knew better than to piss off the higher-ups the first minute I stepped on a new ship. Even one as stupidly named as the Starsprite.

“No, sir. No bricks in my head last time I checked.”

…well, maybe I wasn’t that smart.

“Could have fooled me.” He stepped into my personal space, and looked me over. He was human except for his solid orange eyes, a dead giveaway to mixed heritage somewhere in his blood. It also meant that he had worked damn hard to rise to Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.”

He squinted those eyes at me. “Do you have anything to declare cadet, or were you waiting for someone to hold your hand?”

“No, Lieutenant, sir. I have nothing to declare.”

“Come with me then.”

He walked off without waiting for a reply. I looked around, saw no one who looked particularly interested in helping, sighed, and jogged to catch up with him.

He talked while we walked.

“I am Lieutenant Walkers. During your stay on the Starsprite, you will answer directly to me. When orders come, they will come from me. Only me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

We walked up stairs, reaching a small hall with an elevator in it. We stepped inside. He continued, “As you know, you have been assigned a C-14 on element H-362a. I don’t think I have to tell you how important this assignment is, do I cadet?” His orange orbs peered at me from his weather-worn face.

I’d seen worse. I shook my head, once. “No, sir. You do not.”

“Good.”

We exited the elevator, finally, arriving at a black and grey steel door. Walkers rapped on it. The light above it turned green. The metal hissed open, revealing a common living area.

There was a woman, and two men—all human—sitting at a small table, playing cards. We entered and one stood at attention. The others kept playing as if a commanding officer hadn’t just walked into the room.

Lucky them, I thought.

“Aari, Hogan, Cadet Chalan, Meet Cadet Daxen. Aari, she is your new C-14g.” I stood at-ease beside Walkers, expecting her to look me over.

Instead, she sighed. “Walter, how many times do I have to tell you? I do not need a bodyguard. Especially one so fresh out of the Academy. Who is she going to stop from killing me? Really.”

Aari spoke like someone out of the old American movies. Regal. Dignified. Snooty.

She sucked in a deep breath, grabbed a tissue from Hogan, and sneezed the grossest-sounding sneeze I had ever heard.

Make that snotty.

I smiled in spite of myself.

“Well, despite what you think, Aari I am still the commanding officer here. Fill her in. We take off in t-minus ten minutes, and I want her in the know for the mission tonight.”

Aari answered by sneezing, loudly, into another tissue Hogan handed her.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

She seemed surprised to hear me speak. “Yes,” she said, sniffing. “It’s just a—a—achoo! …a little cold. I will be fine. Thank you. Come, I will show you your quarters.” She stood up and walked around the table.

I was surprised to see that we were almost the same height. I was more accustomed to looking down at human women when I talked to them. I don’t know if I found this disconcerting or refreshing.

Aari led me down a small hall with four steel doors.

“You are here. Put your things down then…” Another sneeze. This one into her elbow. “Good God!” She looked to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Then come back to the living area. The men are preparing for take-off.”

I nodded at an already retreating Aari and entered my room. It was a small. Very Spartan, and exactly what I had expected. Since I only had a minute, I secured my bag in the closet, and headed back into the main room.

Everyone was strapped in to their take-off chairs. By “getting ready” I guess Aari meant, fixing the table so we can still play cards during the launch.

I joined them, strapping myself into the open chair.

“What’s the game?” I asked.

Hogan looked at me with chocolate brown eyes through bushy hair that brushed his forehead. Man, I want to be an assassin. They don’t follow any of the rules. He stopped shuffling long enough to look up and flash me a grin that contrasted nicely against his tanned skin. “Texas Hold’em, slick. You in?”

“I’m in,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes. “What’s the wager?”

“Dish duty,” Chalan replied, tilting his head towards the kitchen sink. “Hogan, you gonna deal? Or are we just gonna sit here and stare at the new pretty lady.”

“This pretty lady has a name, and if you were smart enough to look at her hand-to-hand scores, you would use it.” I quipped, gaze locked on the cards.

Hogan let out a guffaw. “I saw them. I also saw your demerits. How did the General even let someone like you on assignment, let alone this one?” he gestured at Aari, who was dabbing at her eyes with a hanky.

I looked straight at him. “Because I’m the best.”

Pause.

A nod. “We’ll see about that.”

“Members and crew of the Starsprite, ready yourselves for take-off.”

* * *

An hour of cards later, we had swapped to spades after the boys had racked up dish duty for the next month. I suspect they weren’t as bad as they were showing. Well, I was hoping. No one should be that bad at cards.

As soon as the Captain gave the all clear, Aari unlatched and grabbed a bottle of medicine from the kitchen. Mumbling her regards she headed towards her room. I followed her back only to find her in her in bed with a book and a half-empty box of tissues on her nightstand.

I returned to the table and was getting up again when Hogan put his heavy hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into my seat.

My eyebrows furrowed at him in question. “Sit,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “She’s fine. Sometimes the air on the ship aggravates her allergies. We do this every month. She goes to bed with her medicine and tissues and is ready to go before assignment.”

I sat back down, grabbing my cards. “So, what’s tonight’s mission?”

Chalan spoke first, “You should know that the assassin unit doesn’t operate the same way as other divisions of the Squad. We answer only to Walkers, and even then, only to report in. He gives us the missions with a suggested means of execution via Intel. We take their suggestions, but usually make our own modifications.”

“So, you do what you want,” I clarified.

“We do what we have to,” he replied. “Tonight’s mission came in at 2000 hours yesterday, so we’ve had to move fast.” He put the cards away, got up and grabbed a computer pad from the counter and started pressing buttons. A blueprint appeared on the screen. “This is the Magdalf Mansion. Tonight it will be hosting the…”

“Galaxy Ball. Where the most notorious beings on the planet come to schmooze each other.” I said. I had been there a few times. It was always held in Magdalf, and not much has changed over the years. “I’m familiar with it. Who’s the target?”

Chalan punched a few more buttons. “Magnum Kambre,” he said as he typed.

“Weapons master, extraordinaire.” I cut him off again.

Chalan looked up at me, and laid the pad in his lap, “Is there anything you need me to tell you?”

I smirked, “What do I need to do?”

He smiled, “I thought you’d never ask.”

I spent the next three hours running all over the ship collecting materials for the mission and cursing my assignment. I wasn’t a bodyguard, I was a handmaiden.

When I finished my errands, there were precisely two hours before go. I was juggling garment bags in my arms so that I could reach the hand sensor when it slid open without my help, bringing me face-to-face with Lieutenant Walkers.

“Get in here, Daxen,” he said.

Where else was I going?

I waddled my way in and dumped everything on a small couch and the card table. I looked up from my load to see a Squad Doctor washing his hands in our kitchen sink.

Aari. I thought. Oh no… “What’s wrong?” I asked, panicked.

“Aari apparently has the flu.” Walkers answered. Oh, good. I thought she was dead. “She won’t be going on the mission tonight.”

I raised my brows, “So, we’re laying low?”

The Lieutenant shook his head. “No, it’s still on.” Pause. “You’re taking her place.”

Great.

* * *

“Holy…” I looked at myself in the mirror.

“Looks good, huh? Good thing you’re so tall, or you’d never be able to pass for an Attican. Here, put these in.” Chalan handed me the last part of my disguise. I put the bright white, pointed teeth in my mouth and felt them form to my gums. For the past hour, I had stood, sat, raised arms, elbows and eyelids as Chalan transformed me from plain human to extra-terrestrial being.

I looked in the mirror, turning my head slowly from side to side.

My hair had been pinned up under a tall, domed yellow-green shell that attached to the rest of my prosthetics just above my sharp green ears. Chalan had outlined my eyes, around their full cat-eye contacts, in the darkest black with bright red spikes fanning out from them. They contrasted nicely with the points of the same color that started at my forehead and went all the way to my crown. I had on a black evening gown that tied everything together—my points, eyes, lips, nails—with intricate red embroidery that went down the cape.

Apparently, our target, Kambre, had a thing for scantily dressed females. Non-human females, that is.

Yeah, that was Chalan’s reason my boobs needed to be pushed up so high: bait.

Sure.

I walked out of my quarters and into the common area.

“Woah, Brix, you’re smoking.”

I looked up to see Hogan, barefaced and human. “Why do you get a tux?”

“If I said it was because I’m a man, would that offend you?”

“Probably.”

“Well then, it is my disguise, of course,” Hogan replied, smiling.

I rolled my eyes, but my retort was cut off when Chalan walked through the door. In his arms was the biggest Attican Lizard I had ever seen.

“What is that?” I pointed to what he held in his hands. Wordlessly, Chalan handed the lizard to me. I scooted back. “Um, no. Not happening.”

“Easy Daxen. It’s not real.” I didn’t reply; just stood there with my hands on my new, round Attican hips. “Look.” He pointed to the Lizard’s eyes. “Cameras. We see what you see. You’ll never be alone. There are also mikes, interphones, and weapons if you know where to look. Guards at the gate don’t send pets through the scanners.” He tisked. “It’s inhumane.”

Resigned, I put my arms down. Chalan approached me, laying the lizard across the back of my arm, draping him over my shoulder.

It moved.

I squealed. Hogan busted out laughing, and Chalan rolled his eyes. “It can’t look like a weapon, Daxen. You wouldn’t be able to take it in. We had to make it as life-like as possible.”

“So it moves?”

“Yeah. It will also hiss on occasion. Be prepared.”

* * *

We had departed the Starsprite only to step into one of the nicest cruisers I had ever laid eyes on. Chalan opened the door, waving us in mockingly. Obviously, the cadet was our chauffeur.

I sat stiffly in the back of the luxury cruiser, squirming in attempt to acclimate myself to my new proportions. Aari had plenty of practice in this very get-up. It was part of preparing for the mission. You couldn’t pass for Attican if you didn’t act Attican.

“He’s going to search you out.” Hogan explained as we closed in on our destination. “Make sure you play hard-to-get. Think of your snobbiest thoughts and act on them, but make sure you find a balance,” he added quickly. “Watch for my signs. He’s your hit. You have to ensure that you he takes you somewhere secluded. To do that, you have to talk to him. But not too soon. Just make sure that…”

I put my hand on his knee, “Hogan, I understand.”

He sighed and shook his hands out in front of him, “Sorry, always get a little case of the jitters before a mission. I will be cool in a few.”

I gave him a reassuring smile before leaning back and closing my eyes. The lizard on my shoulder hissed in protest of being squished against the seat, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was about to start down a path on which I could never come back. Sure, I had known I was training for war. We all trained for it. But I always imagined going up against the enemy face-to-face: blaster against blaster, hand-to-hand, kill-or-be-killed, you know? But this? This wasn’t that.

No, Magnum Kambre wasn’t an innocent. I had heard my dad talk about him and the rest of his crowd many times. They were the lowest of the low, making profit off of peoples’ lives. He was disgusting, wrong.

But, who was I?

I was the person who was going to walk into a party to kill a man who would never see my face. He would have no idea what had hit him until it was too late.

That was the plan.

Was I okay with it?

Chalan hit the button, lowering the divider between us.

“We’re here,” he said.

Guess it was time to find out.

* * *

Chalan stopped the cruiser. I took a deep breath as Hogan’s door opened from the outside. Outside was a guard dressed in crimson. I knew if I looked more closely, he would have a silver crest stamped above his left breast. There would also be some of his buddies on the street around us, each bearing the same Magdalf coat-of-arms on their chests.

Hogan stood, reaching his hand into the cruiser. I grabbed it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

Chalan had timed our arrival well. There were few cruisers on the street. Were we early? I looked around nonchalantly. Nope, not early, I thought as the incredibly bright moon caught my eye, dancing just above the horizon.

So, we’re late, I thought as my heart picked up speed. No big deal. Just a mansion full of people who will see us walk in.

Maybe that was the point. I shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time to second-guess Hogan’s plan.

The guard walked us through the nearest high-rise and punched some numbers in the elevator. When we got in, he nodded once then left us to a silent ride down.

The doors opened.

I had seen the Magdalf before. The thing about famous landmarks was that they tended not to change. The only difference between now and then was that I didn’t remember so many people being at the party.

Oh, that and now I was here to kill someone.

We wined and dined a while. Hogan carried on polite conversations with various people while I stood next to him—one hand on a drink and the other on my pet pretending that I was bored out of my mind. There were very few times Hogan gave the signal that he wanted me to join in the conversation. But the third time he did, I recognized the man as a very well-known ambassador who was known for his precarious position on the war. He was also known for lining his own pockets and was part of Magnum’s inner circle of friends. My insides flipped.

“Mr. Arturis,” the ambassador said to Hogan. He was short and fat, one of those unfortunate people whose head was too small for his body. He reminded me of a gnome. “There is someone I would like you and your beautiful shiela to meet.” He gestured in the opposite direction, “If you will.” We would, ambassador, thank you. We followed him through the hall.

Hogan slid his arm under my cape and in an uncharacteristic move, pulled me in tight.

“Excuse me, Magnum. I would like for you to meet someone.” He turned to Hogan. “This is Mr. Arturis. He is the chief of staff for the assembly of Earth. I thought you would be interested in meeting him. Gentlemen,” he nodded, and just like that, the gnome was gone.

Hogan stuck out his hand. “Please, call me Hogan.”

The man took it, and shook. “Magnum. Nice to meet you.

Magnum and Hogan went through all the pleasantries before delving into more serious matters. I knew exactly when it happened because they began talking barely over a whisper and Hogan’s hand stirred. He lifted his index finger and set it back down. Again.

It was the sign.

For the first time, I made eye contact with Magnum and was surprised to say the least.

He had unremarkable matching brown hair and eyes. He stood a bit taller than myself and donned a single gold band on his right hand as his only jewelry. His tux was professionally tailored. He was groomed perfectly from head to toe.

There was a very serious expression on his face, and I knew from experience that it rarely left. I also knew that if he smiled right now, there would be a small chip in his front left incisor.

I knew all of this for the same reason I knew he wore that ring because it was a gift from his late wife who had been killed in a raid six years earlier.

I knew that because I had seen her give it to him.

She was my mom.

His late wife.

I was looking at my father.

Hogan pushed me towards him a little harder. “Magnum, I would like you to meet someone. This is Bria. She is from…”

He interrupted, “Attica. Yes, I have been there. It is very beautiful in the warm seasons.”

I squinted my eyebrows together. “Magnum Kambre?” I asked.

He smiled, “In the flesh, my dear. My, you are lovely.”

I smiled but looked away. Hogan tapped once to let me know that he approved my actions and he was moving into the next phase. “If you two will excuse me, I think I see someone I must talk to.”

With that, he left me to kill my father.

* * *

Hogan slammed the door to the luxury cruiser. “So, how did it go? It sounded like it went well over the set.” He was like a puppy. So eager to know the details. To know how I killed the man he knew as an arms dealer. A threat. A killer.

A time to rejoice, right? …one less bad guy in the world.

I answered. “Truthfully, it’s all a bit of a blur.”

“The first one is always the hardest. Don’t worry, it gets easier with time.” His voice became quiet, somber. “But, Brix?” I turned my head. “You don’t really ever forget the first one.”

— — — — —

About the Author

S.P. Parish is a native of Alabama where she is currently attending graduate school. S.P. is a new writer who loves the world of SciFi and everything it entails. She is currently working on her first novel, dedicating the majority of her time to it when her brain is not on the fritz from studying. When not writing, you can find S.P. reading, painting, running or remodeling the house with her husband, Ben. You can find S.P.’s latest writing adventures at: wattpad.com/parishsp.

— — — — —

S.P. Parish © 2013

Merek’s family had been on the planet for six months when his daughter Kemmy heard something bleating under a cover bush as they were hiking back to camp from a surveying expedition.

“I think it’s hurt,” she said. “Don’t you think it sounds hurt, Dad?”

“Might be. It’s dangerous down there.” He meant it as a warning to her, but he knew it would make her more eager to help whatever it was, and help it now.

The cover bush spread across the valley for a good 100 meters on either side of them and so far out in front of them that it almost reached the jagged foothills. The upper leaves were crackled and brown from the heat of the sun, but the waist-high bushes were dense enough to insulate their deep purple undersides and keep them alive and moist, creating a cool, shaded environment beneath, where life could thrive.

Kemmy lay on her belly on the brick red dust. “I think I see it,” she said. “It’s not very far.”

Merek was torn. Kemmy was a good kid and wouldn’t so much as reach her hand under the bush without his permission. It was because she was such a good kid he felt so bad for wanting to tell her to get up and move on. He wasn’t really an animal person. But whatever it was down there would haunt her for days. She was too tender-hearted to let it go.

“What does it look like?”

“I think it’s a black-rabbit.”

Merek sighed. A lot of people around camp had adopted black-rabbits as pets. Seeing them would keep her thinking about this one.

“It looks like its leg is hurting.”

A turquoise bug the size of Merek’s ring finger with pinchers on its head and tail skittered along her pants on thick, crab-like legs, reminding him of what could be under there. He brushed it away.

Merek couldn’t let her go in, but they couldn’t leave without the injured animal.

“How far back is it?”

She stood up and pointed to a spot on the top of the bush a couple of meters from the edge. “Like right under there.”

“All right. I’m going in after it.”

He had a pair of gloves and some goggles but regretted not bringing a mask. He improvised with an extra shirt wrapped around his head and face. Knowing his taser wouldn’t work well in such a cramped area, he looked for something he could use to fend off whatever might be down there, and settled on his flashlight.

Something about seeing him all suited up made Kemmy realize the danger of the situation. Where before she’d looked concerned, now she looked scared. “Be careful, Dad.”

“No worries!” he said, wishing there was a way to smile at her.

He got down on his belly and scooted under the low canopy.

The first thing he felt was the change in humidity. The air became damp and funky smelling, even through his shirt. The ground underneath him went from being dry and dusty to moist and slick. Glad he’d worn gloves, he dug his fingers into the pungent mud to pull himself forward.

The black-rabbit was right where Kemmy had said it was. Black-rabbits looked like rabbits only in the sense they were furry and had big hind legs and smaller front legs, but their bodies were squatter, like frogs, and they had a third pair of limbs, a tiny pair of arms and hands on the front of their bodies.

Its bleating became more panicked as Merek scooted towards it. It might have been caught on something. He couldn’t quite see.

“That’s all right, big guy,” he said. “We’re trying to help. It’s all right. Relax. Just helping.”

“Only a little farther, Dad,” said Kemmy. Without turning around, he could tell by her voice she was lying on the edge of the bush, watching him.

“Thank you, Kemmy.”

Closer now, he could see its leg was stuck in some kind of hole, though the hole looked a bit too big to be the only problem. He set the flashlight down and wrapped one hand under the black-rabbit’s belly. He reached into the hole with a couple of fingers of his other hand to wiggle its leg free.

Something clamped down on his fingers and pulled. Hard.

He let out a yell.

Kemmy shrieked behind him. “Daddy!”

Whatever it was wouldn’t let go. The black-rabbit broke loose, hopped towards him, its twisted, bloody leg inches from Merek’s face. Seeing the raw, gaping wound made the pain in his fingers sharpen.

His gloves didn’t give him enough range of motion to pry the thing’s mouth open with his fingers. He tried pulling his hands free of the glove, but the creature’s grip was too strong.

Merek had to put the rabbit down if he wanted to come out of this with his fingers. He hoped Kemmy would forgive him. He dropped it and grabbed the flashlight, shoving the end into the hole, wiggling it to make room to get some momentum to hit the thing.

“Daddy!” Kemmy was crying now.

He managed to use the edge of his flashlight to pry one side of the thing’s mouth away, and he pulled his hand free.

He braced himself, flashlight ready, waiting for the thing to bound out of the hole at him.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he shouted back at Kemmy as he caught his breath. Without taking his eyes off the hole, he tried to bend his fingers. He was sure he was bleeding underneath the gloves, but he was also sure that without them, he might have lost his fingertips.

“Daddy, come out right now!”

He scooted back, but there, watching him, was the black-rabbit. It stared at him with big, golden brown eyes. It wasn’t running. It wasn’t bleating. It simply stared at him, expectantly.

Merek reached his left hand under its belly again and carried it out with him.

* * *

Kemmy raced to their tent as soon as they got back to the colony camp.

“His name’s Shadow, Mom.”

Merek’s wife, Telsa, lifted Shadow out of Kemmy’s arms. “He’s so cute!”

“Careful with his leg,” said Kemmy.

“Oh, what happened to it?”

“Something was hurting him, and it hurt Dad, too, but Dad saved him.”

“You were hurt?” Telsa gave the black-rabbit back to Kemmy and grabbed Merek’s hand.

“Um, yeah,” said Merek, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You should see the medic.”

Merek nodded.

Telsa positioned herself so she was between Merek and Kemmy. “Are we keeping it?” she mouthed silently.

He nodded.

She cocked her head, and her eyes showed a twinkle of surprise. She smiled. “You sure?” she mouthed.

“Hey, Kemmy,” said Merek, “Daley’s mom knows more about black-rabbits than anybody in camp. Maybe while I’m at the medic, you can take Shadow over there and let her have a look at him.”

Telsa squeezed Merek’s arm and kissed him.

Daley’s mom, Adele, was a xenobiologist. Her husband had died during spaceflight, one of a handful who hadn’t woken up from stasis. They’d called it a stroke. Now, she and Daley were raising two black-rabbits of their own. Over the next few weeks, she helped Kemmy nurse Shadow’s leg back to health. Daley taught Kemmy how to unfurl the vines of the tentacle ferns and pick the leaves the black-rabbits liked. It was tricky to do without getting squirted by a viscous gel that was nearly impossible to wash off. Merek thought it must be some kind of liquid pollen, but Adele said it was technically the plant’s fruit, since it contained the plant’s fully ripened seeds.

And as for Shadow, she (Adele had assured Kemmy Shadow was a girl) stayed quiet, always around, always within reach, but never closer than that, never getting into things but always eyeing someone or other in the family. She never even bleated for her food, but waited patiently until someone remembered.

She was a nuzzler, though. While she’d wait patiently to be held, once picked up, she cuddled aggressively, more like a puppy than a bunny.

Pretty soon, Kemmy started cuddling back. All the time. She carried the animal with her in her arms like a doll or slung over her shoulder like a burping baby.

One day, Merek watched as she and Daley were climbing down a rocky hillside outside of camp, struggling to keep their balance with only one hand while holding their pets with the other.

It seemed a little excessive to Merek, and he talked to Kemmy about it when she got home.

“But I like to hold her, Dad.”

“I’m really glad. I’ll bet she likes it when you hold her. And you can hold her all you want when you get home from playing. But you might fall. Or you might drop her.”

“I don’t want to drop her,” she said, and Merek thought he’d persuaded her.

Only she didn’t leave Shadow at home. She stopped hiking in the hills.

* * *

The same was true of everybody who had the animals. Out of the 150 or so people in the camp, about a third of them were usually within reach of a black-rabbit. So it wasn’t a surprise that when he went to talk to Adele about it, the fattest black-rabbit Merek had ever seen was draped across her lap at her desk.

“It’s pheromones,” she explained. “All mammals produce appeasement pheromones. Think of them like a trigger that sends a message to the brain that says, ‘calm.’ They’re usually at their strongest immediately after birth, produced by the mother to help her baby adjust to life outside the womb. But they’re always there, even in men, to a lesser degree.”

“Why would the pheromones of this alien species have any effect on humans?”

“Some mammals have overlapping pheromone patterns. Part of why humans get along so well with dogs and cats is that their appeasement pheromone patterns are so similar. But I think it’s more than that. I think these black-rabbits are pheromone amplifiers. They pick up the pheromone patterns of a mammal and then magnify the pattern back.”

Merek looked at the fat little pheromone bomb on her lap. “So these things are cuddly furballs of sedatives?”

She smiled. “Not sedatives. Comfortable babies don’t sleep. They coo, they giggle, they play.” She picked up the black-rabbit and nuzzled noses with it. “They’re cuddly furballs of contentment.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

* * *

It seemed to Merek these creatures had evolved to be the perfect pet. But what possible evolutionary value could that have on a planet that seemed to be devoid of any life advanced enough to practice domestication?

There had to be survival value in their abilities besides making people want to pet them. And survival value usually came from the ability to compete. To eliminate competition. To rise above competing species.

Which meant these things were somehow dangerous.

Merek tried to get Kemmy away from Shadow whenever possible. He’d take her with him on surveying missions and insist the animal couldn’t come. And he’d always try to make sure Daley watched Shadow while they were gone instead of his wife. No sense letting her fall under the same spell as the rest of the camp.

His survey expeditions became excuses to try to catch the black-rabbits in their natural habitat. Problem was, their natural habitat was under cover bushes, and he couldn’t see what was going on there. And animals never seemed to go in or out of them. Adele said that while some of the planet’s native fauna didn’t need the cover bushes, most of those had been frightened out of the area by the arrival of the colony. So Merek started searching for the areas where the animals had migrated.

But around camp, the problem spread. More and more people started taking the creatures in. And more and more people became pleasant and happy.

Merek found it unnerving.

And then came the day when Kemmy refused to go with him.

“That’s all right, Dad,” she said. “I’ll stay here.” Her hand stroked Shadow’s back with a soft grace and rhythm. Shadow’s golden brown eyes fixed on Merek like they had when he’d caught her.

He took Kemmy by the shoulders. “I really need you to come with me on this one.”

She smiled as she shook her head. “You’ll be fine, Dad. I’ll stay here with Shadow.” She giggled. “I think today’s going to be a big day.”

“A big day? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just this feeling I have.”

He rushed over to Adele’s tent. Daley was lying on his air mattress, cuddling with his black-rabbit. His mom was in a chair, the fat one on her lap. She was hand feeding it leaves.

“You all right?” he asked her.

“I’m fantastic,” she said. “Isn’t today a great day? There’s something magic in the air.”

“My daughter just told me the same thing,” he said. “Have you talked to her?”

“No.”

“It’s these things. It’s the pheromones. They’re sending you some kind of signal. Can’t you see what they’re doing to you?”

“Merek, pheromones aren’t mind control. They only influence. Otherwise, you’d feel the same way about them as everyone else. But you’ve made up your mind, and some chemicals aren’t going to change it. Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“Isn’t the whole point of the signals they’re sending you that you’re not supposed to think things are a big deal?”

She pointed a lazy finger at a picture on the wall on the other side of the room. It was a picture of her with Daley and her husband, before his terminal stroke coming out of stasis.

“Since he died, I’ve been looking for peace of mind. A feeling that things were going to be okay. Merek, for the first time since he left me, I have that. Is that really something to be scared of?”

“Yes. I think it’s something to be terrified of.”

“Oh, Merek, you have no idea how heartless you sound.”

“Heartless? I’m heartless?” He lowered his face close to hers and thrust a finger into the side of the black-rabbit on her lap as he spoke. “These things have sucked the heart out of everyone in this colony. Wake up, Adele.”

She looked like she was about to say something patronizing when Telsa rushed into the tent, panicked.

“Kemmy’s gone, Merek. I don’t know where. I’ve looked everywhere.”

He didn’t wait to hear more. He raced to find her, stopping by his tent just long enough to grab his surveying equipment. He was headed to look for her from the highest hill outside camp when he passed some of the other colonists going . . . where?

They seemed to be following each other. They called names he didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Moppet.”

“Come back, Stitches.”

“Flopsy, get back here.”

The pseudo-bunnies were hopping away, bleating, and the people were trying to catch them. The animals were too fast, though, staying a little ahead. They were all moving in the same direction.

Shadow must have run off, too. Kemmy must be ahead of this group.

Merek raced past them to catch up to her. In other circumstances, watching the respected engineers and scientists chasing little hopping animals around might have seemed comical. Right now, it seemed humiliating and degrading.

He wasn’t making ground fast enough. Maybe he did need to climb a hill. From there, the viewing equipment showed the front of the group where some black-rabbits scampered under a massive cover bush.

Their owners crawled in after them.

Suddenly Merek understood.

Sometimes, survival didn’t mean competition—it meant cooperation. Clearly, the black-rabbit’s role in this ecosystem was to lure food sources under the cover bushes. Whatever fed down there had most likely learned to leave the black-rabbits alone, but must have started feeding on the black-rabbits when the camp had driven off their natural food sources. The rabbits had come after the next available group of mammals.

Where was Kemmy? Had she already gone under? Telsa’s urgency suggested Kemmy’d been gone for a while. She must have been one of the first to leave.

“Kemmy!” he shouted.

He spotted her, a bit of movement as she glanced over her shoulder. But she hurried on, trying to pretend she didn’t hear.

She was far closer to the cover bush than he was to her.

Merek ran.

“Kemmy!” he shouted again, dropping his gear behind him. “Kemmy, no! Don’t go under there!” The loose dust and rocks slipped under his feet, but he couldn’t slow down.

He fell headlong, scraping his hands, smearing deep red blood across the brick red alien rocks.

He picked some up and threw them at people as he ran past, hoping it would trigger adrenaline and endorphins to counteract some of the contentment the pheromones had created.

But his daughter was getting down on her hands and knees. There was no time for anyone else. He screamed her name again, raced for her.

First her head, then her body, then her feet disappeared under the purple foliage.

Diving in after her, his body slid against the slick, moist ground under the bush.

She started to scream. Short, quick shrieks.

“Kemmy!”

He lunged forward and grabbed her ankle. She shrieked again.

“Kemmy, it’s me, it’s me.”

“Get them off, Daddy, get them off!”

The creatures were out of their holes. They were Gila monsters from hell, reptiles with large, serrated bone plates on their chins, like a beard tipped with shark teeth. They dug their chins into her flesh, their heads wiggling with the speed of a snake’s rattle, tearing through skin, then they pulled back and dove into the wound face-first, biting and ripping with beak-like mouths.

Kemmy screamed again. It wasn’t a shriek this time. It was a raw sob of pain.

Merek reached up into the bushes above him and yanked at branches. They were stubborn, didn’t want to break free. A hard yank, then a second, then a third, finally broke loose a good sized stick.

He beat at the creatures. Some of them leapt from her and attacked him, latching onto his arms and legs. He didn’t knock them free. At least they were off of her.

Crawling over her, his body shielded her from them, but she was fighting blindly. She beat against his torso, caught him across the nose with her fist.

A lizard dug into his back, dangerously close to his spine. He scraped his back against the branches above him, breaking it loose.

The edge of the canopy was at least 10 meters away. The shortest path to sunlight was straight up, less than a meter.

Merek raised himself onto his knees and pressed against the branches above him. They resisted, pushing against him like a springy wooden net. As he raised his body, more of the lizards scampered under him onto Kemmy’s torso. Merek knocked them aside with the branch.

“Daddy,” Kemmy whispered.

He screamed in frustration. He tucked his legs under him, using all the muscle in his legs to try to stand, to force through the branches above him. His muscles twitched as he tried to straighten. It wasn’t working.

And while he pushed, more lizards scampered onto Kemmy’s body. They went for her fingers as she tried to brush them off.

Merek tossed the stick aside and knocked them off with his hands, and as they hit the ground he punched their torsos, smashing them against the wet ground. Bones crunched under his knuckles. Lowering himself back down over his daughter, he brushed aside a lifeless lizard that lay inches from her head.

Its chin was a perfect buzz saw. Probably for cutting through roots as they dug their holes under these bushes. If it could cut through roots, it could cut through branches.

Taking two dead lizards by the head, Merek began to hack through the branches above them. As the branches fell, lizards scattered. The branches fell over Kemmy, keeping her covered as he sat up, cutting through two-handed with awkward hack-chops.

As he reached sunlight, he dropped one of the lizards and picked Kemmy up and held her against him. When the opening was big enough, he stood up with her, breaking her free into the sunlight.

The lizards still nipped and slashed at his legs down below. He pulled away the cut branches, creating a circle of sunlight the lizards would hide from. The branches scraped at his legs as he pulled them out, and he had to cut a few more free with the lizard head, but he managed to carve out a small clearing in the bush.

The lizards darted back under the cover of the canopy. Merek and Kemmy had about a meter of space around them. He set his daughter down.

“Kemmy, he said, “Kemmy, are you okay? Where does it hurt the most?”

Blood dripped down his arms, but he pulled off his shirt to stop his daughter’s bleeding.

The lizards moved around the edge of the circle, and Kemmy couldn’t take her eyes off of them.

“It’s okay, Kemmy. They’re not going to come out.”

But then her face lit up and Merek realized what she’d really been looking for.

“Shadow!” she said.

Shadow hopped into the circle and sat, big, golden-brown eyes staring up at Kemmy. She reached down to pick up the animal. Merek stopped her.

“Daddy, we have to save her.”

After all that she’d been through, all she could think about was what those lizards might do to her bunny.

“Shadow’s going to be fine. We have to get you to the medic.”

“But they’ll hurt her.”

He didn’t know how to explain. He wished he didn’t have to explain.

“Kemmy, the lizards aren’t going to hurt her. The lizards are her friends.”

“No,” said Kemmy, realization coming to her eyes, but still wanting to deny it. “Shadow’s my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Kemmy,” said Merek. And he was. He felt like he was taking something away from her, a bit of her innocence, a bit of her trust in the world.

Kemmy put her arms around him. He picked her up and held her.

A crowd gathered at the edge of the canopy. Seeing him and Kemmy broke some of the others out of their stupor. The sight of their blood stirred up whatever primal chemical reaction evolution had programmed into them, overriding whatever primal chemical reaction the pseudo-bunnies had triggered.

Someone used a couple of large jackets and some rope to make a makeshift cradle. They tossed it out to Merek and Kemmy.

“Dad, please,” said Kemmy. “Can’t we take her with us?”

But she didn’t fight as he climbed onto the jacket with her in his arms. The others dragged them across the top of the bushes and back to the edge. Kemmy’s chin pressed into a raw spot as she looked over his shoulder, watching as they abandoned what she thought to be her best friend in the world. He knew when she lost sight of it because she buried her eyes into his neck.

When they reached the edge, Merek tried to stand Kemmy up, but she didn’t want to let go. He sat down with her, and she nuzzled her head under his chin and cried.

“It’s okay,” he said, but he wasn’t sure he meant it.

But as he saw his wife in the distance running towards them, he realized that whatever his daughter had lost today, he hadn’t lost his daughter. Not really. He didn’t know how many the camp had lost in the bush. But his family was still intact. Whatever they’d have to go through next, at least they could still go through it together.

Merek held his daughter close.

— — — — —

About the Author

Erik Peterson lives in Rialto, CA with his wife and two daughters. He is a graduate of Orson Scott Card’s Literary Bootcamp. His recent fiction has appeared in Leading Edge Magazine and in Eric James Stone’s charity anthology The Gruff Variations. You can find his most recent stories by following him on Twitter as @docmagik.

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Erik Peterson © 2013