Zhevra's Dance Novel

[The Pakkrat]

“Will I be allowed in your Gvegh traditions to take your Pack name?” Zhevra asked as an aside. The name Zhevra Cannagrrh was on the tip of her canine tongue.

“Of course.”

“Then when you file that bureaucratic notice, tell them your spouse will be Zhevra Cannagrrh.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Now finish your meal, Sir, before we have to eat cold steak.”

* * *

Zhevra sat forward on the bunk in her cell now that she had Khzaeng to herself. With her focus upon his blue dye dot as if it were his eyes, Zhevra thought to him, speaking as if he were the recorder instead. He was bound by duty to be reading her mind in case her next words needed lie detection.

We blended pelts that night in a hotel room, a large and luxurious affair.

I will never forget that night.

Humans can’t know. Oh, and I want my collar back when I go to court, Khzaeng.

Khzaeng got up after adjusting his robe again. He was reading her mind, she was sure. Reaching over to the recording device and deactivating it, he said in his usual monotone, “You don’t know Humaniti as well as you think, Ms. Cannagrrh. Good evening.” He pocketed the device. He then left Zhevra to consider his words.

Two days later, after much internal planning and exercising in the cell, Zhevra was met again with a ragged Allain Templeton followed by Khzaeng. She flashed the Psion a glance before saying, “You look like crap, Advocate Templeton. Are you sure you want to do this today?” She gathered her chain tether and moved back to the rear of the cell so the guards could open the cell door.

Allain nodded, “I’m out of sick days for the year. You should have seen me in the spring.”

“It’s your health and your call,” said Zhevra Cannagrrh as she turned her back to the armed guards. She had counted how many guards and how many clubs they were armed. But Khzaeng was in the room and was probably listening to her mind.

After the guards departed, the three sat down for another breakfast, this time a shredded and baked ham of some ungulate beast that was glazed and topped with fruit. Zhevra immediately eschewed the fruit after trying and disliking it. But after the jail’s meals, the Advocate’s menu was favorable. At least, Allain still had an appetite even if his Mag was off its game.

“Drink some electrolytes, Templeton,” she said. “Your Lek is too low.”

“Got it right here,” the Human said as he lifted his beverage, a sports drink labeled Creature and in spooky lettering on the can.

After setting up the recording device and laying out the hardcopy file once more, Allain clicked his pen to the ready. Khzaeng, in his woolen robe was a statue in the corner.

“I hope you listened to the recording while in bed,” said Zhevra, “because if Khzaeng took the time to come while you were sick, then I shouldn’t have to repeat that part.”

“No worries, Ms. Cannagrrh.” Allain coughed twice and then set his pen to the paper.

* * *
The wedding ceremony was simple and that was to Zhevra’s liking. She was no princess and certainly not in any monetary position to make a grand expose of marrying Gevaudan Cannagrrh of Pack Cannagrrh.

Zhevra brought the largest wrench from her Engineer’s toolkit. Gevaudan brought out the two-handed, serrated sword he called a Thuerrghough from the ship’s locker. Though it was a Corsair’s weapon he had seized from a female pirate Vargr Gevaudan recalled as Kangfangthue. Gevaudan explained that the finned, torch handle weapon, his “Zhodani Mindsaber” would not stay active away from him and on the asphalt tarmac of Rorroksueknea this fine day. Instead it hung on his belt as an unknown tool by all gathered.

Gathered were newly-purchased concubine slaves, the friendliest of slave fetches, one advocate and Emissary to handle laws, the Downport Administrator who had consented to the venue and a Vargr chaplain or three. The betrothed had not stated a belief system on their mating-marriage documents, though Zhevra had learned that Gevaudan did harbor the philosophy of the legendary Runetha Saetedz, a Vargr hero and scoundrel of the 800s, Rimward on Menorb (Spinward Marches 1803). Gevaudan believed in being what the philosophy defined as a ‘hero’.

The upper winds made feathers of cirrus clouds ripple over the blue sky. Trees swayed in the fields outside the fence. Food had been already served and the gathered were snapping photographs with their hand computers and sampling the edible layout. It was midday and shadowed by the berthed Sixth Horizon, the betrothed took their turns laying out their items.

Zhevra looked up at Gevaudan Cannagrrh. She was dressed in the same black and yellow, tabard hip dress ensemble. Her lavender collar was about her neck. The winds were lighter across the Downport today and brushed her dress in waves and caught her red mane and neck ruff. Occasionally she had to squint to avoid tearing up her eyes.

Gevaudan was dressed in a freshly laundered Scout-Courier uniform of the Society of Equals. The polity did not have a true Scout service, but Gev’s uniform was a standard, nondelineated dress uniform. Not civilian but also not military. In black he was contrasted against his white fur. The wind buffeted his brushed mane too.

It was a strange thing to Zhevra to see empathetic tears of happiness from her fellow concubines and an emotional fetch. When she first came to Rorroksueknea, she would have believed that she had been sold into a world where every sophont could only care about the actions and goings-on of themselves. But there were words of congratulations and words of advice from here and there today. It was heartening to Zhevra to learn that heartlessness had not taken over the peoples of Gvurrdon Sector.

The officiating commenced. Gevaudan Cannagrrh gave each Vargr chaplain a chance to speak their belief system’s peace, offering future services if the newlyweds cared to partake. None of the three dared to spoil the event with differences of worldview. This was a special day for Zhevra and the male she deemed worthy. For Gevaudan, his vow was a simple request, “Remember this: I love you unconditionally eternally.” She returned her own vow equally simple, “I love you. Let us walk side by side and not in line.” He held out the Thuerrghough sword and lazily tossed it on the asphalt. She offered up the huge wrench and let it slip from her claw to clatter on the tarmac and land near his sword. Digit rings for their ring finger-claws were put on each other by the mate, Gevaudan smiling big and his field aura positively glowing to Zhevra and her stifling tears as he slid her ring on the ring digit of her left cream color claw. Then the two clasped claws side by side and before the crowd, hopped as a married pair over the weapon and the tool. They landed to cheers and applause from the gathered. They were married mates, pronounced thus thrice over by the different chaplains and the court advocate who stamped their paperwork.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“And now, Zhevra Cannagrrh” said Gevaudan as Zhevra received the folded and sealed documents from the lawyer for their records, “This must come off.” With a diamond dust-edged, handheld cutter he carefully severed the gold alloy slaves ear-hoop from Zhevra’s ear. One concubine caught in the moment turned to a fellow lady and cried aloud, almost stopping the ceremony with her happy tears as heads turned to look at the emotional one in the crowd. Smiles all about, the ceremony was over. Zhevra rubbed her naked ear where the ear-hoop had been. She recalled that it was nearly a full year since she was purchased by Gevaudan Cannagrrh. And now she was a wife. The reception meal began and all gathered were, for a time egalitarian guests as the wedding of Zhevra and Gevaudan Cannagrrh, the Suedzuk and Gvegh couple.

Three jumps and weeks later in the Society of Equals the newlyweds enjoyed a honeymoon vacation on a small and remote island on the mainworld of Gnoengungag. They swam at the nearby beach, walked about the bungalow’s grounds, cooked each other breakfast and blended pelts every other night for a week. She brushed his white fur and he, with his skills in Medical, gave her a massage on the folding, stored massage table. There were no possessive words spoken. No embraces or holds or bites that emphasized Vargr charisma. Only unconditional love was allowed during that week on the island.

The pair were still beaming and glowing upon return to Gnoengungag Bay and Downport.

* * *

“You look like you want to say something, Advocate Templeton,” Zhevra paused her story.

Coughing three times in his suffering of the flu, Allain managed to ask, “What can you recall that is a little more pertinent to your case?”

“I suppose we can jump to the issue that landed me here, Allain Templeton.” Zhevra lightly flicked at her chain tether. “There were some chapters you might have liked, but okay. One condition that might, y’know, send me off the deep end is contradicting me in this next part. Fair warning. You saw what it did to me before.”

Allain coughed once then straightened his slender tie. His pen at the ready, Zhevra moved on to 1187. The advocate wrote the year on the paper of the file on the prisoner.

 

[The Pakkrat]

* * *

The Vargrtarian project of Gevaudan Cannagrrh continued with Zhevra Cannagrrh at his side well into the year 1187, Imperial calendar. Two years married, the couple still plied the slave trade with many happy endings for the concubines coming out of the Wilds. Just as many were tragic ends for slaves who had addictions, anger issues, or plain failed to wake from low berth hibernation.

On the purchase end of the slave route run in Rorroksueknea, the ship full of purchased concubines, Zhevra sat in the cockpit on the bridge of the Sixth Horizon. Her husband, Gevaudan was jacked into the ship’s computer and was in a meditative trance of a cybernetic sort and calculating the astrogation needed for the routine jump to Okhtous four parsecs distant. There was nothing new and Zhevra watched her husband manipulate virtual boards she could not see. The sensors gave the all clear of 100 diameters distance from the nearest gravity well in the two stars and twelve planets of Rorroksueknea. Vincent was on orders to help Bob begin preparing the communal “first meal” for Gevaudan to give his lecture to the six concubines milling about the staterooms, wondering to each other of their fates. The aromas of cooking wafted fore and aft of the galley.

Zhevra could see the Green lights of Gevaudan’s ‘Gator laptop computer that was connected to double-check his calculations. With the computer’s approval in solid Green, Gev spoke to his wife, “Go aft and charge the jump field, love. Then stand by for jump. Oh, and please tell the others as you go. I love you.”

“I love you,” responded Zhevra as she rose from her seat and leaned over to him. He was still in his jacked-in pose, his claws in his lap. She licked him once over his muzzle and then left the bridge for the axis corridor that ran down the middle of the Far Scout to end in the three sections of Engineering.

There was a slight change in Gevaudan’s Mag and Lek field analogous to water on a beach retreating off the sands in preparation for an oncoming wave, but Zhevra thought it was a reaction to her lick and thus kept moving and left the Pilot-Astrogator to his duty.

“Jump transition in a few minutes, everyone,” Zhevra announced as she passed the two robots, Vincent and Bob plus two of the nervous slave females sitting at the table.

In Engineering, the hard-fought tuning this past two years under Zhevra’s motherly love yielded welcoming Green lights on the jumpdrive boards. With routine and experienced hands, Zhevra diverted power from the maneuver drive which had just ceased thrusting, over to the conduits leading to the zuchai crystals that were the aligned and attuned core of the interstellar drive. When the power reached optimal for a four parsec jump, Zhevra did not have to call to the bridge her readiness to engage the jump field and jumpdrive for the transition to jumpspace. The ship was already vectored, lined up with Okhtous.

Gevaudan’s voice issued from the jumpdrive board’s intercom, “All Green, Zhevra. Looks really good this time. Engage transit.”

“Engaging in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, mark. Jumpspace transit. All seems Green back here. I’m coming back up.” As always before, Zhevra’s repeated tunings of the jump emitters made the Sixth Horizon transition from normal space to jumpspace a seamless event easily missed by the concubines and crew on board.

The smell of first dinner was inviting to Zhevra. Vincent and Bob worked together quickly and would have the meal ready as fast as the carnivorous feast could safely cook itself in the galley. “Mmm. It smells inviting,” she complimented the two robots she knew probably did not care. They broke no stride as flatware and silverware were placed for the meal to come. Zhevra pushed past the robots, forward to the bridge.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Past the door into the bridge, Zhevra caught Gevaudan in a skin-tight, neck-to-toes suit of light and silvery gray. Circuitry lines in lanthanum ran like a circuit board up and down this unitard over his form. His back was to her and he faced the bridge computer terminal immediately to the left. From behind him, Zhevra smiled to see this form-fitting outfit she recognized that he rarely wore. It was his Teleportation Suit, a specially designed liner over his body that aided in temperature, pressure and if the science was right, it helped with momentum changes to a certain limit. She had seen Gev use it once before, but only when he further explained his repertoire of psionic talents, clairvoyance and teleportation. Now, with his back turned to her, Gev hunched over the terminal. The door closed behind Zhevra’s entry. But then she heard it lock.

His mane was wild and Gevaudan Cannagrrh turned about to face Zhevra. She saw a wild and savage expression explode across his face, his cheekbones’ augments flashing in the cabin light. Claws flashed and he grabbed the female by her black Engineer’s uniform.

“Empress! Black!” the maddened white Vargr screamed insanely as he bodily threw Zhevra forward, through the air in the cabin, to land between the two cockpit chairs and collide with the avionics access hatch. She landed painfully and her shoulder threatened to go numb with pins and needles tingling up and down the extremity. Instincts of the Suedzuk will to survive kicked adrenalin into Zhevra’s system. She was on her toes instantly as she beheld in full, the demeanor, aura fields and expression of her husband gone savage. His claws were out before him. Those eyes, a crystal azure blue, bore down on her crouched position as he advanced on her.

“Gev! No!” was all she got out as he pounced at her. Claws swung, teeth bared to bite, limbs flailed in attacks and blocks. Footwork of two trained Infighting Vargr was the mark of discipline though Gevaudan was faster. His cybernetics triggered and the augmented Gvegh’s speed doubled. Growls and snarls from both issued and reverberated off the walls of the bridge. Zhevra managed to land a series of punches and a single bite scored his bicep as she tried to seize his left arm’s attack. Fire ran up her body in two places as his claws hit their mark anyway. He seemed to feel almost no pain, possibly due to his own adrenaline surge. Infighting continued but this was no honor or charisma challenge. Blood welled in the wounds of both. Gevaudan’s white tinged red on his left bicep. Lines of claw marks bled from her ventral and dorsal cuts. Still the wrestling, biting, clawing and scrambling for footing advantage continued. Zhevra landed an uppercut punch that rocked Gevaudan backward. But his right claw closed on her uniform as he picked her up in the same falling arc and threw her again to crash into the locked bridge door. He fell to the deck and rolled over to all-fours. She landed hard and heard her other shoulder pop out of socket, dislocated. Sliding down the door to the floor she scrambled to a similar three-point crouch. She could taste his blood, still hot.

Zhevra’s Awareness was to her merit as she could feel his attack come before his maddened eyes telegraphed his intention to attack. His aura would change an instant before he moved. She tried to compensate by intending to head off the attack. Her eyes darted around for an available weapon, but all she saw from her peripheral view was his Hazardous Environment Vaccsuit in the chair of the helm position. A heavy pistol was holstered on the hip of the suit. If she could get to-

He was instantly in motion that she tried to intercept and block with her good arm; her intention was to dip from her lower center of gravity and dive between his legs and bite his thigh. It was her hope to tumble under him and trip him at the same time with a vice-like bite. He came at her with claws forward, but instead he brought down a hard elbow in a downward drop and thrust.

Zhevra never made it past his ankles and her bite snapped shut on air. A second elbow struck the back of her neck. Thankfully, the buckle on her lavender collar shielded her vertebrae from the ramming motion as she collapsed to the floor from the force of his blow. The air was knocked out of her as her chest and muzzle struck the deck in rapid succession. She coughed once, her lungs begging to breathe. Pain, excruciating pain exploded across her neck and torso.

The last thing she saw was the grav-belt buckled on the orange HEV draped over the chair. She heard the maddened panting of the white male above her. Gevaudan’s howl, violent and primal, grew distant and heralded her descent into darkness.

* * *

Allain Templeton was still scribbling his shorthand rapidly, trying to keep up, when the red battery LED warned of a need for charging. He looked up at it then at Zhevra Cannagrrh.

Zhevra looked at him and then at Khzaeng and saw the Psion’s face. He had seen her memory as she recalled it to the fore during her story, no doubt. The Vargr male was visibly disturbed, shaken in fact. Stopping her tale, she recalled the Aekhu to the present, “Hey. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

The Psion only nodded. He looked like he was closing the psionic floodgates from her memories he was living first-hand or second-hand through his telepathy. He shifted his robe and double-knotted the woven rope belt at his waist.

Allain saw the both of them in an unspoken exchange and so shut off the recording device. “I think that should be all for today. This-….this is very significant, Ms. Cannagrrh. We will be back tomorrow.”

How much do you know, Khzaeng? Zhevra flashed a question in her mind.

The advocate and the Psion left her in the cell to return from the back wall to her bunk. As soon as the door to the cell had allowed the Human and the Aekhu exit, Zhevra turned her torso and head to watch them leave. Then she sank into bed. When the cellblock door clanged shut, the shakes started again. The Suedzuk spent the night in a fetal position, her chains clinking from her shudders.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XIII. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
Where does one go when deprived the connections between an individual’s core, their mind, memories, the spark of emotion, and the actuation of the physical form? What do they do as they are locked away from the world they have known? Does time stop for these individuals? Or does it play on in a prison sentence, trapped within the severed connections somewhere? Zhevra would have thought that at least not all the connections were severed in that she could at last consider these questions.

“Call him,” said a female voice in Gvegh. What was Gvegh? It was a language and she remembered that she understood it as it was not her birth language. Where had she learned it? “Call the doctor and get him here now!”

“What’s happening?” asked a second female voice, deeper and more resonant, but in the same language.

“I think she’s waking.”

“After three-“

“Shush your mouth and call the damn doctor, STAT!”

She felt a pins and needles in what she thought was her right-hand claw. The movement of it was not of her doing and there was warmth from whatever was moving her extremity.

“Her brainwaves are increasing. We have a survivor,” said the first female voice.

“Vitals are steady,” declared a third female voice which had just arrived. “Think she’s aware?”

Aware? Zhevra asked her own mind as if it were a client of hers, what defines ‘aware’? Her mind answered, that in understanding one’s sensory input was generally enough to be aware. So, accepting the definition, Zhevra tried her sense of feeling. After all, touch is fundamental, right? Her bodily fur came to more pins and needles as the sense of touch and Awareness of Mag and Lek began listening to the world outside her prison. It was painful. She felt cold.

“She’s shivering.”

“Well, get some heated blankets and order an electric blanket.”

The second female voice returned to Zhevra’s hearing, “Doctor’s on his way. He listed a string of meds and told us to take it slow until he arrives.”

The first female voice became closer by her sound. Zhevra felt her field aura come closer to her own expanding and growing field, offline for how long? No answer to her mental question evidenced. “Zhevra? Zhevra dear? Can you hear me? If you can, flick your eyelids or flit an ear please.”

Zhevra was only able to manage a squint of her already closed eyes.

“Good. Good! Zhevra are you able to open your eyes? If so, try. I’ve lowered the lights in your room. C’mon show me your pretty green eyes.”

Zhevra had to focus on her eyelids. They were so heavy and pasted together with sleep and tears. I was like ripping thick gift packaging to open them. But over an infinity, she managed a half-lidded, unfocused inflow of vision. Her eyes stung from the cold of exposure to the world beyond her eyelids and lashes.

“Sweet Ancients!” said the second voice, the one that had made the call to the doctor.

“We’ll have none of that in here,” ordered the first voice, the one Zhevra could now tell was holding her right-hand claw in her claws. Warmth. Zhevra felt warmth from her hands. “Save your beliefs for the chaplain when he comes in the morning.”

“Op! She just twitched her claw. Motor functions are returning. I’ll stay with her. You two go and prepare the doctor’s list, ASAP. Oh, and call the Dame too. She has power of attorney.”

Where had Zhevra heard the word ‘Dame’ before?

“Zhevra honey, if you can understand me, blink your eyes please,” asked the female, a Vargr female Zhevra remembered. Zhevra blinked her eyelids, though she was still unable to resolve her unfocused eyes. To her vision, the dim environment was blurred but she saw from her right peripheral the vague shape of the female next to her. Her sense of touch was further along the way to sensitivity.

Zhevra was lying supine, on her back and in a bed and warm covers were added weight atop her body. She still could not move other than twitch her thumb claw onto the hands holding her right. She felt the soft pads and fur of the Vargr female holding her.

“Good. Good, now I want you know that you’re okay. You are lying in a bed in a hospital. Understand?”

Zhevra’s thumb claw answered for her. Touch was fundamental. There was something in her mouth and another something inserted into her nostrils at the distant end of her canid muzzle. That’s right. Zhevra was a Vargr female. She decided to try a breath but met with resistance.

“She’s trying to breathe on her own,” said the female holding her claw. “Zhevra, I’m Nurse Dhudztarr. Since you’ve woken on my watch, I’ll be assigned to you for the rest of your rehab. Honey, you are intubated. That is, you have a machine helping you breathe. Do you want to try breathing?”

Zhevra twitched her claw again against her best judgement.

“Okay. The doctor is almost here. He’ll be authorized to help take out that tube. Just stay calm and I’ll be here, holding your claw. Understand?”

Zhevra could do nothing but lay still and twitch her thumb claw. But, like an elective course in life, she decided to return to actualizing her eyes and focus. Nurse Dhudztarr was right. Zhevra was in a small room occupied mainly by her bed. She registered from her peripherals a window to her left, dark with lack of sunlight. To her right was the nurse. Still with only a vague form, Zhevra forced her eyes to turn right and look at the female.
Dhudztarr was a light, sandy beige Vargr female in a white uniform. The Gvegh medical symbol of a phoenix clutching a rod wrapped by a serpent was embroidered on her breast above a pinned nametag in Gvegh:

N. DHUDZTARR

Eventually her eyes yielded to moving though Zhevra desperately wanted to rub them to clear away whatever super adhesive was hindering her visual acuity. Her thumb claw twitched its anxiety.

“Hold on. Let me get a warm, wet rag.”

Nurse Dhudztarr returned from across the chasm of space and time with a warm, moist rag to tamp and wipe Zhevra’s face. Soon, Zhevra was able to look about, though her neck was too stiff to move. A hospital room resolved more clearly and Dhudztarr had amber-brown eyes, caring and full of attention to Zhevra.

After some time, which the nurse never left her, a baritone voice of a male entered the room and asked “How is she?”

Gev! Gev, it’s me! Zhevra!

 

[The Pakkrat]

“She wants to breathe, Doctor Vhugh,” answered Nurse Dhudztarr. “Her vitals are stronger and she has control of her touch and can twitch her thumb claw.”

“Okay, but if she can’t breathe on her own, we have to replace the intubation,” replied the one named Vhugh by the nurse.

“Zhevra?” asked Dr. Vhugh, a larger, and middle-aged, gray male Vargr in a long, white jacket. He had dark brown ale eyes. “I’m going to de-intubate you but understand that if you don’t breathe and breathe normal for me, Respiratory will have to help me put it back in. I have your claw now. Give me a grip if you can to acknowledge.”

Zhevra really wanted to breathe without a machine forcing air down her mouth. With herculean effort, she actuated her digits in a feeble grip, meaning to bury her claws in his.

“Okay. Good. Now be patient with me. This might feel weird.”

Zhevra felt her numb throat and mouth surrender; almost vomit the thing – whatever it was – tube come from inside her body.

“Okay, Zhevra, breathe for me,” ordered the doctor. She then felt him run a small device over her chest. Each time he touched her with it, new fires of touch registered to her. He was, to her vision, using a stethoscope and listening to her inhalation. “Good. Again. Good.” Then to Nurse Dhudztarr, he ordered, “Keep up the list I called in but have the Stage 2 meds ready, I want a crash cart in here 24/7 until she can truly breathe confidently, move, speak and accept water. But for now, she’s to remain NPO until we learn more.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Zhevra Cannagrrh, I am Doctor Vhugh and I hope the nurse has told you that you are in a hospital. You’re safe and going to be okay. You are on Dzuerongvoe, the homeworld of your husb-, of your Pack Cannagrrh. Dame Qithka, your sister-in-law is on her way. I spoke to her on comm just before I arrived here. Do you understand?”

Automatically, though she did not fully understand, Zhevra gripped again the male’s claw.

“Excellent. Just be patient. This is going to be hard, but you are a fighter, Zhevra Cannagrrh. I’ve never seen such a long campaign. I’m proud of you and please follow Nurse Dhudztarr’s instructions. I will return with the Dame when she arrives.” The male in a doctor’s jacket was replaced with the claws of Nurse Dhudztarr.

“We’re all proud of you, Zhevra Cannagrrh,” the nurse said in a gentle voice. “I know. How about we try some motor function tests? Can you wiggle your toes, hun?”

For what felt like an endless torture session, Zhevra was able to awaken her tingly footpads and press on Nurse Dhudztarr’s claws holding them. More tests followed. Eye acuity, ear twitching and direction were measured. Senses were fully explored and their sensitivity marked. Though her sense of touch was tested all over her body, Zhevra noted that these Gvegh did not test her Awareness, the Suedzuk sensitivity to bio- and electromagnetic fields. What did Gvegh know, she asked her mind.

“Let’s try some vocal tests,” offered Nurse Dhudztarr. “Think you can say your name, hun?”

Zhevra’s throat was parched and raw from the thing in her mouth. She managed to whisper, “Orange.”

“Good. I heard you, though that’s not your name.” congratulated Dhudztarr. The female took a brush to Zhevra’s face and mane, her field coming closer to make sense of the long dormant fur on her. “The Dame will be here shortly. Gotta look good for the Pack Alpha, yes?”

A Pack Alpha. Zhevra could not recall when she had last answered to a Pack Alpha back home. The chance came sooner than she thought after a multitude of other tests. She found that the thing in her nose was an oxygen cannula in supplement to the breathing tube that had been in her mouth and throat.

Then Zhevra, as she waited for the Pack Alpha, this Dame Whatever, to arrive, she discovered the maddening urge to urinate as her pelvic girdle checked in under the testing.

Nurse Dhudztarr noticed Zhevra’s pelvis shift and said, “Good! Now I guess you feel the urge to void. Don’t worry. We have that taken care of. No worries. Go ahead and pee.”

They had catheterized her. Now Zhevra really felt invaded and dependent. At least she was covered.

The ceiling of her room was boring her by the time a white Vargr entered the room and into focus.

Gevaudan! Oh Gev! Help me, Gev. Zhevra teared up immediately and blinked her eyes to refocus on the white Vargr.

 

[The Pakkrat]

The white Gvegh entered the room and came closer. It – no, a she – came into view and clasped her two white claws with black nails, the same as Gev’s, about Zhevra’s right claw. She wore a white, prismatic and gossamer dress of enough layers to obscure the more private parts of her canid body. A silver bracer with an oval ruby rode one forearm and a bracelet dangling a long and blue, octahedral spindle crystal on her left wrist. The elderly face was adorned with another oval ruby mounted in gold and suspended in two tiny chains to her white ears. The eyes, they were ocean blue, like Gevaudan’s but had whitened rims in the irises, the mark of age. This female who was not Gevaudan, her husband….

Her husband! Zhevra’s face grimaced into more tears and silent sobs, her voice again betraying her.

“Hush, dear,” said the matronly female before her. “It’s okay. You’re all right. You are safe. We have never met, but you are Zhevra Cannagrrh and I am Dame Qithka Cannagrrh, Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. I am your elder sister-in-law, you see.”

She had to tell this Dame, but “Orange,” was all that came out in a whisper. It had taken priority and welled up from the part of her that was memory and usurped her voice.

The regal female Dame in the gossamer dress nodded. “The doctors and nurses have taken good care of you, Zhevra. I guess they want me to break the latest news to you, me being a former news reporter and all. I haven’t done that since Gev-.”

There! She said it! Zhevra heard it. She was going to say Gevaudan’s name. Her reaction must have stopped the female before her.
The female naming herself Qithka Cannagrrh, in Gvegh language, paused until Zhevra calmed again to listen.

“Now-now. Let me help you, Zhevra. And this is something that I’ve had to rehearse over and over again in the mirror since leaving the magazine I worked for. Please stay calm for this and let me help you help yourself.” With her eyes closed, the Dame took a deep breath for such an elderly Vargr female. Then she opened her eyes, focused on Zhevra and began. The white claws clasped firmly Zhevra’s cream colored right claw.

“Zhevra Cannagrrh. I, Dame Qithka Cannagrrh am to report that the year is early 1190 and you awaken now on my homeworld of Dzuerongvoe in the Dzen Aeng Kho, the Society of Equals. You have been in a coma since 1187, almost three years now. You suffered what investigations have determined and filed as a domestic violence event from your husband who is my younger brother, Gevaudan Cannagrrh. For unknown reasons, Gevaudan strangely disappeared before you were discovered on the deck plates on the cockpit bridge of his Far Scout ship, the Sixth Horizon. Robots Vincent and Bob found you along with the six concubine slaves Gev and you were transporting out of the Wilds from Rorroksueknea to Okhtous. How Gevaudan managed to disappear from a starship while in jumpspace has been the subject of much debate for almost three years. You see, he initiated a suicide, a teleportation, using his psionics and his Teleportation Suit I knew him to own. The ship was searched nose to stern and no evidence other than water vapor, a recorded drop in cabin pressure and lanthanum dust was found of Gevaudan. He is listed as missing, a victim of loss to jumpspace. Your husband, my brother has been assumed deceased.”

To keep Zhevra’s attention and solidify her emotions a little longer, Qithka gripped Zhevra harder.

“Vincent and Bob found you dying, in a critical condition. They rushed you to an empty low berth after they stabilized you enough for hibernation. The ship was piloted, robots and a concubine who happened to be skilled enough, to Gnoengungag, your then destination. Your cryo-sleep capsule was then rushed here, via Courier ship to Dzuerongvoe, my home. You have been in a coma since. Gevaudan has not been found. I have taken care of the ship, the robots, the on-board stock and of course you these three years.”

Qithka Cannagrrh then pulled up a chair from the corner of the room and took a seat close to Zhevra’s head.

Zhevra was still processing the news as if it had come too much and too fast. Again, “Orange,” was all she could say, as if it would help the unknown qualities of Qithka’s report.

The female’s fields never wavered in the report. The aura from Qithka told Zhevra that the white female believed that everything she had just relayed was true in her belief. She was not lying and polygraphing the truth as she saw it. The confirmation of this from Zhevra’s Awareness was like a curse laid up on the Suedzuk.

Doctor Vhugh returned to Zhevra’s room, coming up behind Dame Qithka from the door. “Milady, the patient’s stats are elevated. You told her, didn’t you? I thought we had spoken about this.”

“I am her Pack Alpha, Doctor,” answered Qithka facing Zhevra, “She has a right to know and as soon as she can understand what I told her.”

“It is not healthy at this early juncture, milady.”

Qithka ignored the physician. “Now that you are at last awake, Zhevra, we are going to become close. I promise you, you will recover and be whole. I need you whole, dear. Come back to us, please. Work hard with the nurses. Everything is taken care of. You have nothing to worry over. Just get better. Look there. Over your time here, gifts and letters have arrived. See if the nurse will open them for you so you can read them. Or if you like, I can sit with you and read them to you as you get better.”

Zhevra was still distraught at the news. But as angry as she was at the white female, as fearful that the Dame was accurate in her report, as much as she wanted to wake from this nightmare, Zhevra did not want Qithka who looked so much like Gevaudan to leave the room. Dame Qithka Cannagrrh responded to the feeble clutch of the Suedzuk claw and the sobs of the patient, with double-handed, assuring grasp of her own.

“Orange,” Zhevra managed to wheeze with a raspy, but vocalized voice, her vocal chords finally coming online and tingling inside her parched throat. She had meant to say her husband’s name. In her denial of the news, she refused to believe Gevaudan was dead, lost to the nothingness outside jumpspace.

“I so wish we had a translator for you, my dear. But I can tell you about that another time. Dr. Vhugh will be your guide back to us and I will be here even if I have to teleconference back to the villa. Understand?”

Zhevra nodded her head for the first time and again in a raspy voice said, “Orange.” Then she let out a frustrated huff at saying the same word repeatedly.

The first of many shudder tremors came that day after Zhevra digested the news. As nurses cycled in an electric blanket, the assumed widow of Gevaudan Cannagrrh shook violently in sorrow, helplessness, anger and fear. She was totally dependent on them and could do almost nothing, not even speak the name of her beloved.

 

[The Pakkrat]

As the day broke, two very different solar bodies brightened the hospital room, but only through the thickening clouds of the rainy season on Dzuerongvoe. Zhevra’s tremors had subsided and she saw Dame Qithka had stepped into the hall to speak with Dr. Vhugh. Though the Dame had attempted to close the room door, the catch did not secure it. It fell open a few millimeters, just enough for Zhevra to overhear her conversing with the physician. The Suedzuk pointed her ears at the door as best she could focus her hearing.

“Doctor,” asked Qithka who gathered her prismatic dress about her, “why can’t she talk? The only thing out of her mouth has been ‘orange’. Does she want to eat a fruit?”

“Milady, the patient, excuse me, Zhevra has suffered a critical trauma to body, memory and possibly mind. We were monitoring her stats when that spasm of shivering was recorded. I’ll need a specialist to confirm, but we may be seeing the onset of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. I warned you not to inform her this soon. The regimen of therapy just tripled for Zhevra Cannagrrh.”

“By any means,” said Qithka in a commanding voice, “I want her up and capable. She is my last link to Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Understand me, Doctor?”

“Of course, milady,” answered Vhugh.

The torture of therapy began as soon as Zhevra noticed the miraculous lack of visible scars after the reconstructive surgeries needed to mend the damage done by the Infighting with her husband. Though Zhevra could feel the minor pulls of scar tissue, her pelt had been regrown in those places. She would know her scars from the inside out rather than in the mirror.

First came eating and drinking in bed. Once the health staff was satisfied with that hurdle, Zhevra was allowed to sit up and take normal meals. Her voice returned, but the only thing that still issued forth from her vocals was the word orange. Dr. Vhugh was elated at her progress when he saw Zhevra sitting up on the side of her bed many days later. Though still in a grav-chair, the Suedzuk was allowed to attend upper-body therapy and reclaim her torso, arms and head fully. Working with weights and workout machines for wounded soldiers, Zhevra worked hard to bring back her strength.

As her body slowly came to this new life, a specialist visited three times a week to try and unlock Zhevra’s vocabulary. Though Zhevra could nod or shake her head in affirmative and negative responses, she was diagnosed with a speech block. But with a professional liar’s voice, the psychologist assured Zhevra that the block could be overcome, with time.

Zhevra rehabilitated her hand-to-eye coordination with drawing and painting. Trouble was however, that the only thing that arrived after her awakening besides get well cards were small baskets of two or three citrus fruits called oranges. Funny Pack, ha hah, she thought as she tried to bring a smile to her face. In her other spare time between visits from the nurses and hospital crew, Zhevra opened the gifts and well-wishing letters that back dated to the end of 1187 when she was brought to Dzuerongvoe. One gift that hit home was a flat box that upon opening revealed the familiar black and yellow, tabard hip dress Gevaudan had purchased for her. Her lower jaw trembled at touching the yellow fabric and rubbing the black through her digits. Under the dress was the lavender, leather collar with the gold-orange pendant. A computer printout note accompanied both from the twin robots Vincent and Bob. By their probability calculations, the two determined that these two civilian pieces of apparel were most desired by the Engineer of the Sixth Horizon. Zhevra’s ears flattened fondly at the memory of the two Servitors.

One letter from an ex-wife of Gevaudan Cannagrrh dated in 1187 read:


Salutations Zhevra Cannagrrh,
I hope you wake soon to read this letter of well-wishing for your recovery. We have never met, but please call me Genaveegh. I am your husband’s third and ex-wife. If I know your husband as I did then, please believe me that I hold the theory that Gevaudan committed suicide is the biggest cop-out of the century. The Gevaudan Cannagrrh I knew loved life. He loved me, unconditionally. I am sad that I failed to grasp that simple concept before we parted ways, though amicably. He loves you too, Zhevra Cannagrrh, unconditionally. I believe he loved all life unconditionally, as a hero of his philosophy should. I cannot say whether Gevaudan is alive. I hope he is though. But I will stand by you, if you call for me, and attest in court that that white knight did not commit suicide.

Like you, Gevaudan brought me out of the wilds in 1159, in the beginning decline of the horror that was Virus. I was a concubine and still am to this day. I run an establishment and have purchased other concubines from Gevaudan after I earned my freedom and took the Equality Test in citizenship. By extension of his ‘project’, I helped from afar to win these concubines their freedom in civilized space inside the Dzen Aeng Kho. I want you to know that you have a good Vargr in Gevaudan.

I feel akin to you in a way his elder Sister-Dame can never know. Call me sister if ever we meet.

Get well,
Genaveegh


On the second, folded stationary paper was an ink print of the writer’s right claw digit pads and palm, a seal of sorts, tipped with dots where the claw nails touched the paper. Zhevra refolded the letter, returned it to the envelope and decided to keep it.

Through the letter from Genaveegh, Zhevra just now learned that the investigation concluded that Gevaudan had committed teleportation suicide. As an attack of shuddering crested and fell upon her body, Zhevra screamed at the top of her voice, “Orange!” She screamed it repeatedly as soon as she could gather a full breath. So violently did Zhevra shake that she fell out of the grav-chair and onto the floor. The cold tile of the recently-mopped and damp floor welcomed her to close her heart forever even as she continued screaming, “Orange!”

Nurses on the night watch came running as did strong nurse assistants.

“Orange!” Gevaudan!

“Get her up, quick!” commanded Nurse Dhudztarr.

“Orange!” Where are you?!

Zhevra was belted with restraints across her body and her wrists, so her violent shuddering would not dump her from the bed.

“Orange!” I forgive you!

“Seventy-five of Fast, STAT!” called Dhudztarr.

Zhevra fought the strong hands on her as her remaining arm was buckled down. “Orange!” Come back!

A needle struck her inner elbow as she writhed in the bed. “Orange!” Please!

Zhevra kept enough wits to not bite the health staff which would have gotten her muzzled, she knew.

“Orange!” I love you!

The Fast drug hit her like lightning once it raced through her heart and was fed to her nervous system. The world for her sped up and she was powerless to do anything but pant and quake in bed.

A thunderstorm brewed outside at the height of the monsoon season. In the night, well after the Fast drug had worn off, Zhevra rode waves of her tremoring body each time lightning flashed in the rain outside the hospital and thunder rolled to vibrate the hospital structure. Her Suedzuk Awareness made her acutely attentive to each stoke of electrical discharge. The storm lasted all night but not once did she scream out, choosing wisely to ride the shakes in silence.

 

[The Pakkrat]

An incident report appeared on Zhevra’s patient chart the next day. Since Dame Qithka held the Suedzuk’s power of attorney, she was privy to the statement on the report. Again, the door was cracked just enough for Zhevra, still in soft leather, two-point restraints and sipping orange juice like a sick joke volleyed back at them, to hear Qithka bitch at the hospital administrator. A private smile that she tried to hide crept up her red and cream muzzle.

Qithka did the talking for Zhevra. Complaints about the recovery estimate versus the actual spewed from the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. Threats of bad publicity punctuated her orders to the staff for Zhevra’s immediate discharge in favor of home-based therapy and visits from home healthcare staff. Each of the health staff took turns explaining the challenges of Zhevra’s case and statistics were quoted.

“I have a mind to sign her out AMA, Administrator,” declared Qithka Cannagrrh.

“Please milady, understand that Zhevra is also used to higher technologies of recovery where she comes from,” stammered Dr. Vhugh also present. “To Zhevra, we are approaching her with barbaric tools and might as wielding clubs and wearing reptile hides for armor in this hospital.”

So true, thought Zhevra but could not say so. Instead she purposely kept sipping the empty carton of orange juice rudely though none outside her room could hear such.

“She is not responding to the speech therapy perhaps because this is a hospital. No one likes to be ensconced in a facility such as this when they can see their body is healed. Zhevra is making wonderful progress in physical therapy, milady.”

Wish I could stand to go to the potty instead of this bedside I have to brachiate to, answered Zhevra trapped in her mind. She couldn’t so much as wag her tail still. Her pelvis was active, but her legs refused her thus far. Scans had shown the need to reconnect motor nerves enough to allow enough brain signals and so on and so forth that Zhevra could not recall the rest.

“If only we had a Psion-,“ the psychology specialist mistakenly said aloud.

Qithka bared her teeth. Her tail between folds of her white dress robe froze. Zhevra’s eyebrows rose at the sight through the glass wall and opened blinds. The Dame’s ultimatum came out as, “You have until the end of the week as I file the paperwork. After that, she will be signed out and you will be the ones commuting to the Cannagrrh Villa. You get me?” It was a challenge to Infight. If a single tooth of those in front of her showed, it was on. Zhevra noted that though Qithka was elderly and partially hunched, the fire had not been quenched from her adventuring days as a field correspondent for the magazine Kfan Uzangou. In Zhevra’s extra heaping of boredom, she had perused old net-casts of Qithka’s earlier years as a Journalist and Entertainer. Now the hellion had erupted.

Ears of the hospital staff drooped, eyes lowered and muzzles pointed below the level of the white Dame before them. The nurses, equally cowed, tilted or turned their bared necks toward Qithka, some pretending to check the unit boards for patient telemetry readings.

“Good,” Qithka snarled most un-ladylike. “Now get back to work.”

The remaining week could not go faster for Zhevra. Drafts and paintings of oranges were beginning to stack up in her room. On Fourday, members of Pack Cannagrrh came to pack up everything that had accumulated over the term of Zhevra’s coma. It was destined for Cannagrrh Villa, an estate in the mountains on the arctic-temperate border latitude. The Suedzuk did take a little pity on the hospital staff by trying harder to make her legs work and her tail move. Still failing to stand, Zhevra managed a purring, almost feline curl near the end of her bushy tail. Elated, the therapists were happy to report the progress to the Dame arriving and fawning around her as she entered the hospital and came to Zhevra’s room.

To the dozing Zhevra, Qithka spoke up sharply to get her attention, “Zhevra!”

The voice was so commanding that the naval Service in Zhevra responded with a military-grade, “Orange!” Yes, ma’am! She lifted her head to see the stern countenance of Dame Qithka Cannagrrh. Her right claw came up and over her mouth in embarrassment.

“We are leaving,” announced the Alpha. “Get yourself dressed and into a chair.”

Zhevra flattened her ears and nodded, not wanting to test Qithka after what she had seen.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XIV. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
“You were an Equal by the time your husband… went missing, right?” asked Allain Templeton the next day during breakfast. The recording device had not been activated and he, Zhevra in chains and monolithic Khzaeng sat in her cell at the fold-down table.

“You made me skip that part, Advocate Templeton,” said Zhevra between bites of her shredded meat and coffee. “No going back, except to say I was in a room full of 18-year old Gvegh who took offense to a ‘Red Pelt’ thinking she had a shot at passing the Equality Test. I passed. Now that I was married and ‘freed’, I refused to live out the rest of my life with belts tied about my waist and having to wear a muzzle belt in public where everyone could point and say ‘coward’ and expect me to accept such. Back home at our advanced technology, teeth could be regenerated. I became however a citizen of the Dzen Aeng Kho long before Gevaudan’s Jump, as the records were calling the disappearance of my husband.”

Allain kept quiet the remainder of the meal until it was time to continue the recording and notes taking.

Zhevra decided to pace up and down the cell, from the back wall up to the seated advocated and the cornered Psion and back again. Dragging the chain tether passive-aggressively, she continued her story.

“I provided you with the Universal World Profile of my homeworld, Llotree, Advocate so that you understand the world that shaped me. As was seen in the hospital, I was indeed appalled at the treatment therapies as I had come from a more technologically advanced world. My homeworld was not however a pretty world like Dzuerongvoe. But that beauty was only as deep as the fur or for Humans, skin-deep.”

* * *

The commute in an enclosed grav-van with transparent, observation windows allowed Zhevra full view of the rural topography as the monsoons of the Downport were left behind for clearer skies with cirrus crystal clouds in the high altitudes. Travelling north, she could see why Dzuerongvoe was nearing a rich trade status. There were too many types of resources on the mainworld to count. With appreciation, she was heartened to learn that this world’s high population was still too low to have damaged the clean atmosphere with the gears of industry. Ahead were the mountains on the border between the arctic and temperate latitudes.

“There,” pointed Dame Qithka Cannagrrh, “is your new home. Cannagrrh Villa. We produce mountain and foothill herds, brew lagers and have a modest vineyard that is not yet on the market. Private to the Pack still.”

The estate came into view as the grav-van angled a more direct approach. Zhevra could see that though it was called a villa, a more appropriate term would have been to call it a castle or fortress made more civilian by the lack of warfare in the region. The largest foothill along the ridge of stark gray mountains supported the old keep and its various out buildings. Battlements and spires created a spiked ornament held out to the world from the framing mountains to the immediate north. To one side was of the gray stone bastion was the brewery. Adjacent that was the distillery. Each had their fields of barley, hops, wheat and a medium vineyard nestled against the south wall with many gates. Ranches, at least three, spread further out and into foothills under the gaze of the tall, steep peaks. Below the foothills, host to conifers, to the south were vast swaths of deciduous green forests.

“We have hunting still, if you Suedzuk still favor such,” offered the Dame. “It is early summer here and we host a fete on the solstice. I hope you can come to the event. There will be dancing and music and guests. We on Dzuerongvoe are xenophiles and a fresh face is always welcome though you have been planetside some three years already, at the hospital.”

Zhevra nodded, “Orange,” I will try. It sounded so lame to respond to the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh, ruler of such an estate with a simple word, a color.

“I hope too that you are a better conversation companion by then too,” tsk-ed the elderly white Gvegh.

Zhevra flattened her ears in embarrassment. Still unable to stand at all, the Suedzuk arm-walked herself into the grav-chair. Then the grav-van landed before the grand entrance to the keep of Cannagrrh Villa. Stone masonry steps of great singular slabs rose to the massive dark wood door. Was it some relic that had never seen removal that there was a portcullis grate before the iron bound wood? Zhevra decided that it must have been very old in this technological age, this blend of archaic and interstellar puzzle of architecture.

Dame Qithka Cannagrrh was met by the villa staff with bows and offers of claws up the steps of her home. “Welcome home, Alpha,” each said reverently. She ascended the steps first, followed by Zhevra in her grav-chair. Her immediate luggage was still unloading as they entered through the massive doors.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Through the outer door was a huge foyer with polished granite floor in sections and partially lined with carpets down the middle. Electric lights that flickered like flames in amber glass bulbs dimly illuminated the foyer and hall beyond. The pair passed side doors of the same dark wood as the front entrance. Into the hall beyond the foyer Zhevra saw a broad set of more stone stairs up to a balcony overlooking both the hall and a grand ballroom beyond the masonry. By passing to either side of the stairs, one could pass into the ballroom which the newcomer could see stained glass windows between columns. At intervals were doors allowing access to a balcony overlooking the sides and rear of the keep and its grounds. Zhevra looked up and saw a second set of stairs, carpeted wood this time leading to a third story looming over the second and the ground floor up from the hall. She guessed that quarters and other rooms were embedded in the upper floors in addition to what lie beyond the side doors she floated past in her grav-chair.

From the sight from the final approach, Zhevra guessed Cannagrrh Villa was huge, made only more evident now that she followed the Dame through its halls. The Suedzuk caught glimpses of figures on the balconies of the floors above. Some stopped to look down at the Dame and Zhevra. Others merely commuted to other rooms. Families, Zhevra guessed. The Pack Cannagrrh consisted of more than one, Gevaudan had taught her during their travels aboard the Sixth Horizon.

Here and there were wall-hanging banners, some wide as tapestries of royal purple fields in which the Cannagrrh Mansche, a swirl resembling a simple symbol of the spiral galaxy and surrounding nebula, was centered. Zhevra guessed that the mansche was the Pack heraldry crest. Zhevra had never seen the like among Gevaudan’s possessions. Did he eschew his Pack? Was he excommunicated? Zhevra denied these questions answers and came up with her own: wanderlust. Gevaudan was after all a Courier-Scout who later took up legal slaving. In addition to the Pack banners, there were lesser banners for a count of three families that made up the larger Pack. Vargr patterns and color choices contrasted the simple, royal purple of the Cannagrrh.

“Vrrakh,” Dame Qithka named the housekeeper, a female in what Zhevra thought to be a male’s military uniform. Zhevra saw that the female was armed with a holstered pistol and a saber at either side of the digitigrade stance at attention.

“Milady,” answered the pale brown female Gvegh in the uniform. She bowed her head, but kept her brown eyes on the Alpha.

“This is Zhevra Cannagrrh, at last come to the Villa,” introduced Qithka. “Her therapy will continue here, on these grounds. Her room is to be on this floor and see to it that the visiting home healthcare knows the route to her. Also, once she is settled in her quarters, escort her to me. I will be in the library trying to catch up on Pack business that has been piling up.”

“Yes milady,” acknowledged the militant housekeeper. Vrrakh bowed to Zhevra in the grav-chair. “If you will follow me please?” Then she spun with formal flair and marched smartly to a door and held it open for Zhevra to pass beyond.

Zhevra was escorted like a delicate war trophy or spoils of a Corsair raid by the housekeeper. Her assigned room featured a four-poster bed with heavy drapes, carpet over the signature granite floor. Various chairs and a settee furnished the remainder of the room. A lavish bath facility was through a smaller door adjacent to the bedroom. The entire area must have been at least twelve displacement tons to the Engineer’s estimation.

“You will find your things are stored in the armoire, there, ma’am,” Vrrakh pointed out to Zhevra.

Nodding and forgetting herself, the Suedzuk said, “Orange.” Thank you. Hearing herself, Zhevra slapped her claw over her mouth. Her ears flattened.

Vrrakh hardly reacted. Offering up a key to the room, an old skeleton key that Zhevra saw had tiny electronics embedded in the faux-iron steel. The light brown female waited by the door as her charge explored the room. Zhevra found the dress that Gevaudan bought her as well as her lavender collar with the silver studs and golden heart pendant. With deliberate display before the housekeeper in a blood red uniform, the Suedzuk buckled it around her neck for the first time since Gevaudan’s Jump as it was now called. She was about to think it as Gevaudan’s attack, but threw that away as both rude and inaccurate. Yes, he did Infight her, but something about those crystal azure eyes was different as Zhevra pulled the collar snug in the buckle.

Nodding to Vrrakh, Zhevra returned in the grav-chair to the door. She was still wearing a black uniform flight suit she had from the Sixth Horizon. The female had not felt ready to join this crew so to speak. The two left Zhevra’s room and Vrrakh conducted her to the grand library on the ground floor. Down the corridors the pair moved. Zhevra could finally concentrate on the sounds of the villa, or castle. She still could not decide what to call the home where her husband had grown up.

Did all of the doors in this place consist of the same dark wood bound in iron and shod with the same? It was distinctly a male motif and Zhevra filed that thought for later as Vrrakh opened the doors to the library.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Zhevra Cannagrrh to the Alpha, per milady’s instructions,” announced Vrrakh who then waved in Zhevra’s grav-chair. Zhevra entered the library which, like the hall reached upward to the third story. Hardcopy books were everywhere. In the rear of the library, Dame Qithka had made for herself an makeshift office. She sat at the wide desk, a feminine wood partition stacked with books, files, distracting mechanical devices and writing materials of stationary and elegant pens. The Dame looked up, removed her spectacles and beckoned Zhevra to her with a free hand, the other occupied with writing. Vrrakh backed out of the library after a bow and closed the door behind her.

“Come in and closer, Zhevra,” said the Dame. “Welcome at last to Cannagrrh Villa. As you can see I am a busy Alpha and that’s just the way the families like it. No doubt, I stir the pot when I’m not chained to this desk given my history, eh? I guess that Gevaudan told you something of me in your time together, yes?”

Zhevra did not speak that dreaded color and instead held up two pincered digits to indicate Gev had spoken a little about his elder Sister-Dame. She punctuated the gesture with a nod of her red and cream muzzle.

“As you can see, though I have been Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh for decades, I still have yet to put a lady’s touch sufficiently to this household so encrusted with centuries of males’ preferences. This dear, is my sanctum and my contribution. Closer, dear.”

Zhevra was seated directly across the desk now from Qithka. Curiosity swelled in her.

“Two major topics that I need to cover now, Zhevra while I have your attention and cannot be interrupted,” Qithka declared. “One. Not everybody in these three families wants me as Alpha still, after these many decades. I’m old. Some think it’s time for me to abdicate like my dam did. So, watch what you say - excuse me – when around the families of this Pack. Despite your handicaps which I am confident will be resolved, you are a threat to them, Red Pelt, Suedzuk, Gevaudan’s wife or no. Please step lightly – excuse me again – as you recover in the bosom of Pack Cannagrrh.”

“Two. Now that we are here, I want to communicate with you truly. You are my last link to my brother and I need you. I never wanted a mate or offspring, you see. Anyway, I’m too old now for that. If Gevaudan does not show up before I abdicate Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh, the lineage, if not challenged in Infighting with good reason, falls to you.”

Zhevra was visibly shaken. Her jaw fell open and her green eyes widened. Her ears meekly flattened and she felt the tip of her tail curl since her toes could not yet. The first tiny tremors threatened to evidence before the Alpha’s gaze.

“Now I let those buffoons at the hospital believe you were some dumb and broken invalid because I also wanted the rumor mill to think the same. You, Zhevra are not an invalid. I see a keen mind behind your eyes, an educated young female. In trying to take the target off your back, for now, I have purposely used you in your current state to let them assume that another is better for Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. In this I am sorry. I needed to pin down the identities of those who would make a power play while my back was turned, my attention on the so-called widow of Gevaudan Cannagrrh. It worked. Everyone believes he is dead, by his own means. I believe there is more that you can tell me. You needn’t worry, dear. This will all be over soon and you will recover both your legs and your vocabulary. This I promise you as Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh.”

Zhevra managed a nod in affirmative, but she could not stop the shakes from inside her.

Qithka noticed the trembling in Zhevra and concluded with, “Focus your therapy on walking again, Zhevra.” She picked up a few sheets of Cannagrrh stationary and an ornate pen to hand them across the desk, through the piles of books and files to the quivering Suedzuk.

Zhevra looked about the library. Then before her tremors threatened her handwriting, she scribbled a hasty note in the silence and aromas of the library stacks.

 

[The Pakkrat]

How did you know I could still right? Zhevra noticed that she had misspelled that last word just as she handed back the first sheet to the Dame. The Dame put on her spectacles and read the Gvegh words. Zhevra was thankful that she had taken the time on the starship to learn to read and write the regional language.

“My dear, it is my job, as a former reporter, entertainer, Alpha to get my interviewees to open up. I am shrewd and manipulative and can be a real bitch when I don’t get what I want. Now try this instead.” Qithka lifted a laptop computer featuring a keyboard. Zhevra could not type on a Gvegh keyboard as the characters were in unfamiliar arrangement, but she used her quivering index claws to punch out a new message on the monitor.

Why did you keep Gev’s status as a suicide secret from me?

Qithka sighed, “Oh, dear. I am sorry, very sorry for that. Your nights of fear and loneliness must have been unbearable. I did not want to further aggravate you with what foolish others believe.”

Gev would not have committed suicide. I know him. Even if he was-

Qithka stopped Zhevra’s typing by reaching over the desk with her arms. She said, “I believe you, Zhevra. Gevaudan, my younger brother, was a Follower of Runetha Saetedz, a hero. Even if he had killed you on that bridge, he would not have taken his life in penance. But he did do something different, didn’t he? You’re shaking, Zhevra. Perhaps we should stop for now.”

My husband was far more intelligent than everybody thinks!

“Yes, my dear. But if you don’t pause from this, you might punch a hole in the keyboard. Calm yourself, Zhevra.”

The Suedzuk took her claws from the laptop computer. The shakes were full on now and she cradled her arms below her breasts and leaned over in the grav-chair in a near fetal position. The Dame watched her and kept quiet. “Orange,” said Zhevra in a sobbing cry that failed to fill the library stacks’ sound-proofing. I miss him. She had to say something vocal. Even if all she could say was the color, it still had emotion behind it.

“Let us stop for now,” ordered Dame Qithka. “You take the laptop with you and inter-office e-mail me. Don’t worry. The lines between us are secure, Vrrakh tells me.”

Despite her PTSD attack, Zhevra could feel the close fields of the Dame. Everything about her Mag and Lek was controlled confidence. She was not lying as far as she believed. Zhevra rode out the attack in full view of Qithka who remained respectfully quiet and dignified in her higher charisma.

When she could safely steer the grav-chair again, Zhevra placed the computer on her lap and left the Dame in the library. Over her shoulder, she could see the matronly female watching her depart. Such power, such terrible responsibility all those decades since Gevaudan tricked her into taking Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh while families circled each other for control. Politics. Zhevra recalled every holovid she had watched that featured Pack power struggles. This however was so much more immediate and threatening. Gev had hated it, becoming a Courier and travelling. And now that she had a dose of it, Zhevra wanted to recover and be away to find him as quickly as possible.

Exiting the library, Zhevra was distracted from her concerns and fears. The aroma of cooking dinner caught her nose and made her mouth salivate. Hospital food was sadly bland and she very much wanted a true meal. Scenting her way through the keep, Zhevra encountered the large dining room of heavy and lacquered table and chairs, all the same dark wood as the doors of Cannagrrh Villa. She made a point to ask where the wood was harvested and continued past the table settings. Before the attaining the lovely scents of the kitchen, she noticed a chair had been set to a corner, likely to accommodate her grav-chair this evening.

“Do come in dearie,” said a female voice of a black spotted brown female Vargr wearing a chef’s smock and apron. She had a wild- silly expression and grisly tooth placement eternally fixed on her face. “Oh, my, you are skin and bones, luv. Sorry-sorry. You don’t know me. My name is Raegksungkuen, but you can call me Rae. Op! So sorry, luv. Word was you don’t speak proper-like yet. I humbly apologize.”

With the chef’s rapid-fire talk and that rural accent of provincial Gvegh, Zhevra knew that even if she could talk, she would barely get a word in edgewise. So instead she bowed her head and waved a gentle, forgiving claw.

“Care for a snack, luv?” asked Raegksungkuen. Zhevra nodded immediately, the smells tantalizing her. “Good! Sit there at the island and Rae will do you up nicely.”

A thought came to Zhevra, so as she focused on Raegksungkuen’s Mag and Lek to make sure she was telegraphing inattentiveness to Zhevra, the Suedzuk snatched a huge carving knife from the woodblock. It was among many so she had chosen one that she hoped would not be missed anytime soon. She slid the knife into her flight suit top and re-zipped it higher, pretending to ready herself for the snack from Rae. As the pile of meat arrived, Zhevra recalled her navy days when her commanding officer lectured on survival. One sharp knife can feed you, clothe you; keep you warm, safe and dry.

“Go on, dig in, luv,” offered Raegksungkuen who then went back to preparing the evening meal.

So good. Zhevra chewed slowly and appreciatively and knew it showed on her face. But since Rae didn’t turn around to watch her from the grill, she thanked the chef with “Orange,” before thinking. Delicious!

“Got one right here, luv.” Raegksungkuen pulled a huge citrus from a basket with her bulky black claws. Turning she saw Zhevra snickering at herself and the situation. It took a moment for the humorous moment to dawn on the spotted female. “Op! Clever girl, though Rae would never mean a disrespect to a Cannagrrh that you are, luv. Forgive me.” So, Zhevra learned that the rumors had spread over the household and likely the entire Pack as the Dame had said.

Zhevra finished her treat and nodded a gesture of thanks. The she was shooed out of the kitchen by the busy cook with, “Now you be on time for supper, luv! Mark my words, it’ll be the best you’ve had in three years!”
The obviousness of that boast made Zhevra smile and she found she liked the spotted female Rae.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Taking a touring route through the Villa, Zhevra steered her grav-chair down a wide hall hung with many painted portraits in a wide variety of frames from simple, to ostentatious to high-tech. Immediately she spotted a young female Vargr underage who stared at paintings on Zhevra’s left side of the hall. Zhevra stopped early in the hall to get a read on the pre-adolescent. She was changing her fur coat early into a medium brown though none of the other marks of puberty was evident. The cub wore a white lace dress and her tail was swaying very slowly as she looked up at the portraits.

At last the female cub turned to see Zhevra sitting in the hall, on her grav-chair. “Welcome, milady. My dam says I have to say ‘milady’ because it’s polite.” Remaining where she stood the female examined Zhevra. “No dress. Are you a soldier?”

Zhevra sighed and smiled weakly. Finally nodding and trying a gesture for long ago, Zhevra shrugged and kept silent.

“Vrrakh was a Marine, my dam says,” the cub nodded. “I want to be a Researcher like my dam. Experiments don’t fight back.”

Zhevra bowed her muzzle in approval and remained wordless. Approaching in the grav-chair, Zhevra stopped just within her conversation range and felt the cub’s Mag and Lek fields. Healthy and bright and yet pensive and calm, she decided.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, milady?” asked the cub. It surprised Zhevra to hear such a vocabulary word. The Suedzuk shrugged. Zhevra was ex-navy. She did not have the time to consider such when she was a young cub as the one before her. She shrugged again when the little female looked to her for an answer.

The young cub then said, “My name is Dhurranae, but my brother calls me ‘Dhurr’ like I am a nerd or weirdo.”

Zhevra covered her smile with a claw. Names at this one’s age were important, identifying them and giving them a foundation to build their personal charisma. The little one before Zhevra was coming early into hers.

“Well, I’m not a nerd. I’m not a weirdo.” Dhurranae then pointed up to a portrait of a female that could have been her great grand-dam. “I might be her for all anyone knows.” Then she curtsied to Zhevra and declared, “You are not a weirdo or a fruit. I like your red pelt. I do.” Then she skipped from the hall of portraits. The Suedzuk felt her fields as she skipped past the grav-chair. The little female was sincere. It warmed Zhevra’s heart for the future generation.

Zhevra returned to her room by unlocking the door with her issued key. A real bath in a huge tub was the next invitation to decadence. She was ready for a bath after all the bed sponging, leave-in fur shampoo and scrubbings in the shower by nurse assistants.

As she passed the luxurious bed, Zhevra tucked the stolen knife into the folds of the drapes. The sheets might be changed, pillowcases too. But what house servant checks the drapes overhead when servants, or slaves, kept their noses pointed down in their lower station? The laptop was placed on the bedside table before Zhevra floated into the bath chamber.

A huge tub awaited Zhevra. She had not enjoyed a bath since before boot in the navy. And she intended to make every minute count. Parking the chair next to the tub, the Suedzuk started the hottest bath, threw in a nearby bottle of unused bubble bath for good measure. Then she began to wiggle her black flight suit off and eschew her bra and undies. Her collar fell atop the clothing. Waiting for the bath and adjusting the water temperature, Zhevra looked appreciatively at the facilities. It was decadent as she had judged earlier. Ship life had deprived her.

Zhevra caught her reflection in the mirror. Hello old friend, she thought to herself. Her wilder side returned the smile she offered.

Her reflection, the one who convinced her to date and marry Gevaudan Cannagrrh thought back, now do you want this or do you want Gevaudan?
It was a sobering thought. Gevaudan was no suicide. Something about his eyes, that azure gaze, was off. Gevaudan had ocean blue eyes. Was the white male’s chemistry or pigmentation messed with that night on the bridge? He had not eaten yet as the meal was still being prepared. She was going to the bridge to bring Gevaudan back to the galley for first meal in jumpspace.

The bath ready, Zhevra thought to her reflection in the mirror, we’ll think about this later.

Shake on it. The thought was thick with double entendre and Zhevra immediately regretted throwing that at herself.

 

[The Pakkrat]

With her arms the red and cream white female carefully lowered her furred body into the water after testing it. Into the bubbles she sank and submerged up to her highest breasts. The bubbles of course came up to her chin. There she thought about what it might mean for her to be Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. From navy to traveler, then slave to wife and now next in line for a throne.

Gevaudan, with his synesthesia ‘sniffer’, would be able to easily determine who his enemies and allies were in the Pack Cannagrrh. One sniff and he could smell a plot against him if the culprit was upwind of him. Even if an attack on his life happened, Gev, if out-matched could just jaunt away from his enemies and alert proper authorities or pick a new arena on his terms. Perhaps it was unfair and that was a contributing reason he did not return to the Pack when he and his sister were summoned to Infight for Alpha. Zhevra had no such psionic talent and did not want such either. Having a heightened sense of fields was enough already. Perhaps that was why the Suedzuk had not taken up such disciplines through the centuries.
Zhevra hid her shoulders in the bubbles and washed her body with kneading claws, scratching the remnant leave-in shampoo from her pelt. The warmth of the hot bath loosened her muscles and eased her joints from the tyranny of the grav-chair.

Another quiet boon, Zhevra recalled as she relaxed in the bathtub, was the silence of her Awareness. Under the water and damp above, her sense of bio- and electromagnetic fields was numbed in a good, relaxing way. No noise from others. No telegraphed charges. She likened it to holding one’s nose or putting in earplugs and dampening the sense from outside stimuli. The touch of quieting, warm water was fundamental.

“Orange,” she muttered alone. Yes.

Sliding further into the deep and wide bathtub, Zhevra allowed the water up to her neck and through her mane. But then to her surprise, she kept sliding, her body coming flat in the pool, her soap-slick fur gliding her to supine. Alarmed, Zhevra slid until she was forced to take a last breath in panic before sinking under the water. Her legs and most of her tail failed to respond as she slid under the surface of the diminishing bubble bath. She struggled to reach for any purchase, but this tub had not been designed for the handicapped to utilize. Struggling to reach the edge, a thought occurred to her. The drain was right there between her inert feet. Old as it was, the pull plug was fitted with a ring. If she could just thread the ring with the end of her tail…

No good. While her tail tip curled, she could not aim it with the majority of its length. Zhevra was running out of options and air in her lungs. The bubbles obscured her sight above the water. The soapy bath water stung her eyes closed. Thrashing in hopes of sitting up, high enough to reach the surface, the bather managed, “Orange!” Help! Half an intake of air was barely a relief. And then she was back down under the water and slipping around desperately. Panicking, Zhevra acted out of desperation by flexing her claws downward and laid them under her hips. Combined with the weight of her body, the slick claws and nails gained friction and she pulled herself closer to the plug drain.

Thrashing upwards again, Zhevra screamed as her muzzle broke the surface, “ORANGE!” Help me! The Suedzuk gasped for air as she fell back underwater a third time. She continued the clawing drag motion across the tub until she could feel the drain plug under her rump. Rapidly flexing her claws for the stopper and its ring, Zhevra’s ring digit - the left on which rode her wedding ring - caught the ring of the rubber stopper. She yanked hard, pulling out the stubborn thing. Underwater, her flooded ears heard the drain drink the water in the tub downward. Extracting her claws again, she bucked upwards for a third time, her lungs burning for air.

Claws, unfamiliar Vargr claws of a male caught the back of her neck and held her as the water drained. “I got you! Hold still! Stop wriggling!” It was a male. Zhevra regained her wits to comply and the unknown male supported her. She coughed and sputtered bubbles from her mouth and nose. The taste of soap and bubble bath coated her tongue and mouth. Breathing gasps of air, the Suedzuk cried, “Orange!” Hold me!

In the haze of her soapy sight, her Awareness still blinded by the water saturating her fur, Zhevra thought she saw Gevaudan holding her from above, though the voice was wrong. Still lying in the tub, Zhevra’s claws caught and held the male’s jacket, some material that was strong. The two held each until Zhevra was able to calm her breathing and stop coughing. The bath water finished draining by the time the male moved again.

“Um, milady,” the male Vargr offered. “Can I get you a towel now?”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Minutes of arriving second responders, being wrapped in a white, terry-cloth robe, and carried bodily to the settee in the bedroom, Zhevra half-sat, half-laid exhausted. Standing above her was the Dame with her spectacles raised up and on her head. She was admonishing the red and white female in front of Housekeeper Vrrakh, the lad who had rescued Zhevra and some females from the other families of Pack Cannagrrh. Contemplative, brown Dhurranae was one of the females who stood near the door next to identical triplet daughters with the same black pelts and yellow eyes dressed in zig-zag patterned dresses of red, white, yellow and navy blue. The male now looked trebly eager to be anywhere but in the room with the females.
Demands for location reports from the younger Vargr were demanded by the Alpha, to which respectful and quick answers were given. The lad was ordered to give account of how he had heard the screams, had shoulder rushed the door, breaking the door off its hinges, falling to the floor and then scrambling to the side of the lady in the tub. He reported that he helped the red and white female out of the tub by lifting her wet form out and carrying her to the settee.

Zhevra thought the lad had adrenalized his system to lift her, grab the robe and stumble to the bedroom. But she lay there, her ears flattened as the Dame whirled on her.

“That was phenomenally stupid, Zhevra,” Qithka’s voice burned in Zhevra’s ears. “We have enough family. We have enough staff. Ancients, we have enough slaves for you to have requested a bath.”

“Orange,” Zhevra tried to protest with gestures as an excuse and failing.

“Don’t you back-talk the Alpha of the Pack. I’ve had whelps go outside and cut a switch for backtalking before.”

Zhevra held her useless tongue and her one-word vocabulary in frustration, but kept her nose down and her eyes lowered. She was an adult. This was not fair. The hospital staff did not educate her on bath safety for paraplegics.

“Nurki, Laor and Anglla,” Qithka demanded the attention of the triplet females in their late teens who perked in a row to attention as if in the military but showed nervousness. “School is out for the summer, yes?”

“Yes, milady,” the three females intoned as if perfect synchronicity.

“This Suedzuk needs assistants if she is to recover her legs, her vocabulary and after today her better judgement. If you three, after the poor behavior that was reported over this past year’s class on your e-cards, can manage to take care of Zhevra and are successful, you may attend the Solstice Fete.”

The triplets wagged tails and dropped tongues out of their muzzles, forgetting their discipline and manners.

Qithka pretended not to notice or did not notice without her spectacles from across the bedroom. “But I warn you three. If another incident like this happens, you’ll be redder than the Suedzuk when I get through with you. Your duty starts now and ends when Zhevra stands, talks like she has a respectable I.Q. and walks herself to the Fete. You get me?”

All three of the dark-furred teenagers grew fearful and there were asynchronous answers of “Yes milady.”

“Each of you will escort Zhevra Cannagrrh in shifts starting with Anglla.” Qithka pointed at the triplet in the middle.

“I’m Laor, milady,” whimpered the cringing female in the middle who pointed an index at the sister to her right being Qithka’s left.

“Ancients!” exclaimed the Dame as she stormed out of the bedroom. “And fix this door, dammit!”

 

[The Pakkrat]

The pale, sandy male in the room offered to the remaining females, “I’ll make the call for repairs,” then ducked for the door. Passing Zhevra, he spoke softly saying, “Sorry I saw your ventrals, milady.” Then he was gone from the room. The younger females giggled as they had heard him, with palm-pads coming to their muzzles to hide their grins.

Dried, brushed and dressed, Zhevra was aided by Anglla, the eldest by seconds of the triplets. As the Suedzuk Awareness came available and re-tuned, Zhevra gained the feel of Anglla’s Mag and Lek. She wanted to be sure she could feel another before the young lass guided her to dinner with the rest of the Pack.

Chef Raegksungkuen swiftly walked through the halls and corridors of Cannagrrh Villa with a deep-toned wind chime to signal the hour of dinner. If the instrument did not make enough noise for tastes, she used her free claw to encourage the clacker to ring all the hanging tubes on the chime. Zhevra was sitting in her grav-chair and dressed in a lavender and black dress that matched her collar that Gevaudan had put on her that night at the restaurant. She was playing with the heart pendant in memory of him when the Chef paced quickly by.

“This means it’s time for supper, luv,” said the fast-paced cook. “Get a move on or miss out on the best parts.”

Encouraged and escorted by an anxious Anglla, the pair made way to the dining hall. Once there, Zhevra made her way to the open spot at the table reserved for her floating chair. Everyone else remained standing until Dame Qithka, Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh took her place at the head of the table to make announcements.

“My Pack,” Qithka began, “tonight we welcome the Villa our kin, Zhevra Cannagrrh. I am confident that everyone will make her feel at home. Zhevra will remain here until she recovers fully from her coma. Respect her as she respects you. Doctors and therapists will be visiting her twice weekly. See to it that they are conducted to Zhevra upon arrival.”

“The date for the Solstice Fete has been set and I trust you have sent out your invitations. This year, if all goes well, we allow the triplets, Anglla, Laor and Nurki to attend their first Fete. However, they are not yet of legal drinking age.”

“Now. Though we have missing Pack members, for various reasons, please introduce yourselves to Zhevra Cannagrrh, starting with Zhevra. I will speak for her.”

“Zhevra Cannagrrh calls her people the Suedzuk. She travelled far across the Wilds of the Vargr Splinters in search of the Safes to call her new home. She met our Gevaudan Cannagrrh and the two wed in 1185. I checked the documents and all is legal and binding. Let none gainsay it. We have all seen Gevaudan’s wife these past years at the hospital. We have brought her well-wishing cards and gifts, though the citrus was a bit much. Zhevra has much to learn about the Cannagrrh and but is happy to be here.”

Zhevra nodded her approval of the introduction and kept her mouth from spilling that dreaded color.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“I will go next,” announced, Qiktha, nodding a small bow to Zhevra to her right. “I, Dame Qithka Cannagrrh am Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh since 1111. I was a Journalist and an Entertainment star for Kfan Uzangou, the magazine. I continue to serve the Pack in the leadership position as charisma dictates. Next.” The Dame looked to her left about the table of standing Vargr.

“Call me Captain Voellzoen Cannagrrh, Zhevra,” said a powerfully built male whose pelt was a dark black, setting him off as the sire of the triplets. He wore a naval uniform of the Society of Equals, with a number of service decorations. With a bow at the hip, he continued, “I am the commanding officer to a fleet flagship in the Dzen Aeng Kho Navy. Corsairs flee before me. Merchants praise my ship’s colors. It is my understanding that your UWP and terms, Zhevra, features naval Service in the Vargr Enclaves. I should like to compare notes at your leisure.” Then he looked to his left and straightened tall.

To Zhevra Voellzoen’s fields were the widest, and quite detectable as he sat directly opposite of her. They felt charged, imperious even.

Two chairs next to Voellzoen were empty and the Captain looked to his daughters. Each of the triplets identified themselves in order of age rather than charisma. Except for their Mag and Lek, Zhevra could not make them out as they were identical in pelt, eyes, stance and dress. Anglla had helped Zhevra to dinner. Laor was next to take Zhevra back to her room or on a tour of the keep proper. Tomorrow Nurki was to take her shift before breakfast. All three expressed an exuberant gratitude to the Alpha for the opportunity to attend the Solstice Fete. They curtsied as one to the Suedzuk in the grav-chair.

At the far end of the dining table, opposite Dame Qithka was a surly and elderly male Vargr. He was also black but with graying and white patches of fur and a drooping tail. He wore a different military dress uniform, also decorated. He cleared his throat and spoke up, “Call me Admiral Orgorr Cannagrrh, former Commander of the Third Fleet Offensive in the Equality War in service to the Dzen Aeng Kho. Voellzoen is my son and his daughters are my granddaughters. Ahem. Dame Qithka, our Alpha, is my niece, Souegh Cannagrrh being her mother, my sister. I bid you welcome, Zhevra.” Then Orgorr looked to his left along the same side of the long table as Zhevra.

The old one’s fields were too far away to take the slightest of measure. Neither did he bow or nod at Zhevra, perhaps due to doddering age. Additionally, there were other fields in the way along the Suedzuk’s side of the table.

A older male Vargr, brown in color with amber eyes and a dark brown muzzle and wearing a formal suit that sported the medical emblem Zhevra had seen at the hospital. It was the silver phoenix that clutched in its talons a rod encircled by a serpent. The male was a doctor and he spoke up with a natural, well-aged public speaking voice to Zhevra as he bowed. “Call me Doctor Azvarrkoel Cannagrrh, Zhevra. I am soon to retire from trauma practitioner and saw support efforts to rehabilitate returning soldiers from the Equality War. Like cousin Orgorr, I too hold Dame Qithka, our Alpha, as a niece. Adhllu next to you is my daughter and next to her are my grandchildren who you will hear next. Welcome.” The physician then looked down to the youngest of three of the grandchildren he had mentioned. “Go on, child,” he urged to Dhurranae, the medium brown female from earlier that day.

“Welcome, Zhevra Cannagrrh,” said Dhurranae, the youngest of the three. “My name is Dhurranae. We met in the hall of portraits. I want to be a Researcher. I like your red pelt.” She curtsied and passed her turn to the middle child, another daughter Zhevra had not met.

“Hello, Zhevra Cannagrrh,” said the female daughter nervously. “My name is Faedoukhdaekuell, but you can call me Fade. Everyone else mispronounces it. I like to play hide and seek in the woods. I hope you can play with me as I’m good at stealth. I want to be an Agent of the Dzen Aeng Kho in Intelligence, but my dam says no.” There were humorous chuckles from the adult Vargr. Faedoukhdaekuell then looked to the lad who had rescued Zhevra in the bathroom. Zhevra noted this middle-child for later and decided to properly pronounce the shortened name for her.

The pale sandy Vargr lad who had saved Zhevra from drowning coughed nervously and looked to the Suedzuk. “My name is Gaenkarrg, milady Zhevra Cannagrrh,” the male announced himself, bowing properly and keeping from looking into Zhevra’s eyes. He wore a dress suit that he was clearly not comfortable in. Yet, Zhevra knew this male would be quite dashing in such an outfit later on in his years. She had mistaken him for Gevaudan in the bathroom. “Like my dam, I am curious to learn about your people, the Suedzuk. I am studying to be an Emissary like Souegh Cannagrrh, our previous Alpha. Uh, welcome.” The male then looked to his left across one empty chair to his dam.

“Greetings, Zhevra Cannagrrh,” said the adult female beside her. “Call me Doctor Adhllu Cannagrrh, a Scholar of Genetics specializing in Vargr phenotypes and subspecies. I am most curious to learn of an ethnicity none of us here in Gvurrdon Sector have seen or heard of since the Rebellion in the Imperium, the Red Pelts Corsairs. Sorry. I am a skilled general practitioner as well, so if you need anything, do not hesitate. Welcome.” Adhllu followed up with a ladylike curtsy. Her dress and doctor’s jacket also featured the phoenix and Asclepius staff.

To Zhevra, the female beside her was holding something back according to her thick field of Mag with a reduced Lek. Zhevra, who was used to omissions kept her face cheerful and hid her assessment.

And aside from the empty chairs reserved for an unidentified three, Dame Qithka Cannagrrh, Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh sat and beckoned all to follow suit. Dinner was enjoined.

* * *

“And amid the attempt on my life that day,” concluded Zhevra who had tired of pacing and was sore in foot and hip, she ached in all her healed bones and joints. Her scars itched too but the prisoner was not going to scratch herself in front of the males, “that is how I met the Pack Cannagrrh.”

Khzaeng let out a sigh but said nothing. Clearly his fields were tired and he was out of spoons for the day.

Both Allain and the Psion collected their items and left Zhevra in the cell to collect her thoughts. Allain’s Mag was heightened. He held the Human face of someone at a theatre suffering from a cliffhanger.

Zhevra laid down on her bunk and regretted her pacing up and down the cell with the added weight of the chains, the collar and manacles.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XV. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
The next morning, Zhevra secretly took notice of new faces among the guards who ordered her to the back of her cell, yet rudely awakening her from deep sleep. With nothing for it but a change of faces, personalities and fields, Zhevra groggily complied so Allain Templeton and Khzaeng could enter. Perhaps these guards were new hires, the prisoner thought.

“Ms. Cannagrrh,” Allain began, “I noticed in the recording that you said that there was an attempt on your life at Cannagrrh Villa.”

“Oh yes,” yawned Zhevra, showing all of her teeth lethargically. “Two in fact. Sit down, Gentlemen and let’s eat.” Breakfast was taken, but the Psion returned to his corner and stood. She fluttered her eyes at the gray robed male.

Allain switched on the recording device with a fresh charge just as Zhevra continued her story.

* * *

Zhevra slept fitfully in the night and it was not until she had the stolen carving knife under her pillow in this strange bed that she was able to doze off. In the morning, she replaced her new weapon in time to receive Nurki the youngest of the triplets by seconds.

Nurki eagerly helped the Suedzuk get ready for the new day. A physician and two therapists were on their way to Cannagrrh Villa to begin the home therapy for Zhevra this day and twice weekly as Dame Qithka had announced at dinner the night before. Of the triplets, Nurki to Zhevra seemed to have the most eager attitude about aiding her.

An in-house e-mail arrived on the laptop computer at the bedside. Zhevra picked up the computer and followed the youngest triplet to breakfast of some porcine animal, a tusk-boar or similar, in the dining hall. There, she ate with Nurki and read the message. The ham was delicious with the maple glaze. The laptop opened at the table to Nurki’s surprise, held a duplicate report of the investigation on Gevaudan’s Jump as it was now labeled after three years. To the others, thought Zhevra, the report must have been old news. To her, it was as if it happened a fortnight ago.

Robots Vincent and Bob, at an alarm of concern raised by the six active slaves aboard the Sixth Horizon that night, had to manually override the lock on the bridge door to gain entry. There they had discovered Zhevra in “critical malfunction” according to the two. Using all the medical supplies in the ship’s pantry, they somehow managed to stabilize Zhevra with the advice of one of the slaves who was training in Medical that first jump on the way to Gnoengungag. Having lost much of her blood to the deck, Zhevra was moved to an empty low berth capsule and put “on ice” as the report transcriptionist wrote. She was kept under all the way to Dzuerongvoe as only the vessel’s next of kin could wield power of attorney for Zhevra and Gevaudan’s possessions.

During the three jumps and landing at Gnoengungag Bay Downport, Vincent and Bob conducted an investigation using the Scout-Courier’s exploration gear, their sensors and gathered flight recorder information. Gevaudan, in accordance with Quarantine protocols against Virus infection had long gutted the Sixth Horizon of its IFF transponder, but kept the “black box” data recorder device on the bridge. A snap-drop reduction of bridge cabin air pressure was recorded. On the deck near the helm-nav chair was found water condensation, vapor that had settled to the deck. In the same area was a fine, trace evidence of lanthanum dust, a byproduct of teleportation while wearing a Teleportation Suit, the signature accessory of a jaunt such as Gevaudan. Zhevra recalled with chills up her spine that Gevaudan was wearing such a suit when he turned on her with those azure eyes. The pressure drop, water vapor and lanthanum dust allowed investigators, the robots and later forensic scientists to conclude that Gevaudan Cannagrrh had indeed attempted to ‘teleport’ from the vessel while on its first night into jumpspace transit. This was the main argument that the Courier-slaver had committed suicide after nearly killing his mate-wife, Zhevra.

Zhevra continued to read though it became difficult to control her left claw’s use of the silverware at the table. Nurki watched nervously, no doubt fearful that the Suedzuk might fall from her grav-chair. Because the ground crew had directed the Far Scout vessel to a berth nearest the Startown’s hospital, once the ship’s power plant was switched to local umbilical feeds, the robots Vincent and Bob could not lift the ship again. Only the Captain (and supposedly Zhevra) knew the command codes to operate the ship again. It had to be crane lifted and moved to a disused berth and was slated for decommissioned. That is, until the Dame Qithka Cannagrrh, Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh stepped in with a small army of advocates and offered the curator of a museum to become caretaker for an Imperium relic starship with Vincent and Bob, still clean of Virus, to maintain and welcome museum-goers to hear the story and tour the Sixth Horizon. The report went on to show that the exhibit was still located at the Gnoengungag Bay Downport at one end of the airstrip nearest the aerospace and interstellar museum.

The ship was still sound and meticulously maintained by Vincent and Bob. This was heartening news to Zhevra. Back at her room and alone, she had waited for Nurki to depart; the Suedzuk posted an acknowledging reply, with what now felt like a not-so-secret code word, “Orange,” though she knew Qithka would understand her singular vocabulary reply. Zhevra committed the main points of the report then deleted the in-house e-mail from the laptop computer. Gevaudan was never seen on his ship from then on. They must have searched inside and outside the hull upon that first jump precipitation, Zhevra guessed.

Anglla came to escort Zhevra to therapy as it was her turn. For six hours, the Suedzuk endured tests, measurements, and exercises to actuate her lower limbs and tail. It was slow going at first, but the first signs of rehabilitation began to evidence. Smiles all around her, the patient had to wipe tears from her eyes. She was sure she would walk again, perhaps before the Solstice Fete!

Later, in the Dame’s makeshift office inside the library, Qithka pulled off her spectacles and said, “Legs are fine, but what I want is your vocabulary back.” Then dismissing Anglla, the eldest of the dark-furred triplet teenagers, she leaned forward and whispered, “You will draft me your side of the story, Zhevra. I want it tonight, but you must continue to play as if you are still dumb to all but a color of a citrus fruit. Get me?”

Zhevra nodded. This orange business was now a cloak to secret missives that would pass between her and the Dame.

“I’ve summoned an old acquaintance,” Qithka Cannagrrh declared with some confidence in her voice. “A former attaché from my days in the magazine is coming here, to Cannagrrh Villa. She is an Unequal, so do not give her any trouble. I know you passed the Equality Test with coaching from Gevaudan. Uthka Varzeekh is her name. She comes off as eccentric and poses as a fortune teller, but don’t be fooled by her stage smoke and mirrors. She will come escorted by two other Pack Unequals. Older than even I and still sharp as a Corsair’s cutlass, Uthka has been on ice for some years now for reasons only she knows. I am paying her handsomely to come here and help you get your vocabulary back, since none of these quacks on the grounds can seem to pick your mental locks.”

Zhevra nodded obeisantly, “Orange,” Thank you. She kept her submissive demeanor but inwardly, Zhevra noted the mention of the two Pack Unequals. This was the first she had heard of Unequal Pack members. But her mental filing was interrupted by the Dame.

“One more thing, Zhevra,” the Dame held Zhevra longer. “Housekeeper Vrrakh tells me that there was no bottle of bubble bath in your bathroom when she had your bedroom prepared to receive you. Someone must have infiltrated your quarters and left an accident waiting to happen for you to utilize. I gave you the only key to that door. This is foul play and no one can prove anything. Did you detect anything strange yesterday?”

Zhevra shook her head in the negative in reply. Additionally, she had numbed her Awareness in the bathroom by slipping into the tub. Death by drowning from bubble bath and paraplegia would be just the accident to rid the Villa of the next Alpha. All sad and remorseful, the responsible party would have rid the Pack of a Red Pelt. Life goes on.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Do you have any questions for me, Zhevra?” asked the Dame finally willing to let Zhevra converse via the laptop computer.

Zhevra opened the computer in her lap and typed with her index claws, May I read books and files from the library?

“Any particular topics?”

History of the Dzen Aeng Kho, history of Pack Cannagrrh and the Equality War. Zhevra finished typing the response and waited for the Dame to respond.

Considering the request visibly and carefully to Zhevra’s Awareness, the Dame finally nodded. “The history section is over there. If there isn’t a book on it, then the laptop can access library database files.” Then Qithka laid her spectacles over her eyes once more and then went back to work at her desk.

Having written her fair share of term research papers, Zhevra floated her grav-chair to the History section of the library’s stacks. Within five minutes she either had found a hardcopy of a book or searched for the topic on her laptop via the in-house network. Then she made her exit from the library to the hall and toward her bedroom.

The sandy male, Gaenkarrg was waiting outside the door to Zhevra’s bedroom. As the grav-chair came to a halt there, Zhevra saw that little Dhuerra, the youngest of the cubs of Dr. Adhllu Cannagrrh was behind him and hiding. Gaenkarrg spoke up when Zhevra waved a wordless greeting at him, “Milady, I brought my sister Dhuerra because she wanted to say something. Go on, Dhuerra.” Then Gaenkarrg gently ushered the female out from behind him and toward Zhevra.

“S-s-sorry you had an accident, milady,” said the young female. “I saw that the bubble bath was mine, from my bathroom cabinet. I, uh, I don’t like taking baths and hate bubble baths. But I didn’t put it in your bathroom, honest to the Ancients.”

Zhevra patted the medium brown cub’s head and nodded. Stroking the female, Zhevra lifted Dhurera’s chin and said, “Orange.” It’s okay. Zhevra wanted to say more but for her vocabulary lock. Instead she leaned over as far as she dared in the grav-chair and gave the cub a quick lick and a friendly smile. Then the Suedzuk gently urged her back to her older brother, Gaenkarrg.

“See, Dhue?” said the sandy male. “That wasn’t so bad. Milady’s got red fur but not red eyes.” It was a Gvegh figure of speech for a Vargr filled with rage. Then Gaenkarrg nodded a polite bow to Zhevra and escorted the young female. “No next life for you, little sis,” the patient heard him say to his sibling. Did the male also subscribe to reincarnation like little Dhuerra had mention in the hall of portraits?

Zhevra spent the next few days absorbing the histories she had checked out of the library and its database. She read fast, taking in the details and skipping the flourishes and glory phrases of the authors. Clearly the historians were in the pay of the Council of worlds when the books were written. The history of the Pack was kept virtually and Zhevra read it on her laptop. She learned Pack’s family trees. There were the three mains and a side branch extending out from the Dame’s grandfather. Sungzurr Cannagrrh, the Alpha before Qithka’s mother, Souegh Cannagrrh, had a brother who was that extending branch. Rrokhvikdhung Cannagrrh also was blessed with three cubs. However, tragedy struck the eldest cub when he died during the Equality Test. It was labeled an accident brought on by the male and the Test took a life, an expected seldom occurrence Zhevra thought possible now that she too had passed the examinations. One other branch of the family was a female that married outside the Pack and had three cubs of the remote Pack. There she learned that Enforcer Vekalgvo’s eldest son committed suicide after failing the Equality Test but before his canines could be extracted. By hanging himself, the lad must have thought to remove his perceived shame from the family by removing himself from the family tree. Zhevra learned that a different shame fell upon that family from the suicide. Suicide was no means to redeem one’s honor or charisma posthumously.