Zhevra's Dance Novel

[The Pakkrat]

Also on the laptop was the history of the Equality War. In 1111 of the Imperium calendar, the Society of Equals had caught wind of the death of the king of the Thirz Empire an ally of the still further Spinward Zhodani Consulate. Thinking the new, young ruler weak and insufficient of charisma to command the Empire, the Dzen Aeng Kho attacked over three major zones from the Empire’s Trailing borders. At first the campaign went well with the Society gaining ground deeper into the Thirz Empire. But the young monarch turned out to be an effective and educated tactician. Though the file’s authors claimed that there was suspicion that the Humans of the Zhodani Consulate lent forces, conventional and psionic, to turn the tide and a rally occurred. The fleets of the Empire slipped between the three fleets of the Society and two pincers, one to Coreward and the second far to Rimward, all cut off the jump routes back to the Dzen Aeng Kho. Once done, the authors claim that the Zhodani bulwarked the remainder of the Empire while the smaller fleets rejoined and cut down the Society’s three and then proceeded into Equal territory. By 1116, the Society of Equals had not only lost half their worlds, the polity capital and the Council of worlds had to be relocated deeper Trailing where the fighting had not reached. When the smoke cleared from the worlds, the Society of Equals was ready to sign an armistice end the Equality War, so named because an equal amount of territory was taken for the worlds initially lost to the Thirz Empire early in the conflict.

Years later, after the Society of Equals was able to make due on its armistice of peace and through heated meetings with Emissaries on both sides, the Thirz Empire offered the captured worlds of the Dzen Aeng Kho a chance to vote whether they wished to count themselves once more among the Society or be left independent and undefended should the Society wish to reclaim them. Many voted for independence. A few, like Dzuerongvoe, the Cannagrrh homeworld chose to return to the Society out of need for any polity’s safety net. The Thirz were returning to their Empire regardless.

Zhevra could read between the lines even if the books or files had nothing for her Awareness to latch onto. There was propaganda, embellishments and half-truths in the articles, the telling of the tale by the losing side. In order to get the real story, the Suedzuk decided she would have to dig deeper and that meant grilling the most trusted news source in the subsector of space, the Dame herself.

“Orange,” Zhevra said to herself. Damn.

Therapy continued through the next two weeks and Zhevra found herself liberated from the grav-chair at last. Now in arm crutches anchored at her forearms, she could limp her way around the bedroom. At the end of the week she took supper with the present Pack in the dining hall by ambling on the crutches. Smiles and nods of congratulations welcomed her continued rehabilitation. Yet all she could thank them with was, “Orange.”

Still escorted by the dark-furred triplets, Zhevra visited the grand ball room in the rear of the keep. Heavy purple drapes pulled and tied to columns let in the light of the day to spill the light of the pale blue and pale orange stars across the granite, sectioned floor. The young females practiced dancing with each other.

Anglla suddenly curious of Zhevra when it was not her turn to practice dancing asked her, “Do you dance, milady Zhevra?”

Zhevra recalled the last time she was asked to dance. It was aboard the Sixth Horizon, when she was still Gevaudan’s slave concubine, before their marriage. The Suedzuk nodded absently while fingering the gold heart pendant on her lavender collar that she now wore daily. Gevaudan had asked, almost ordered, the concubine to fan dance. Nervous with stage fright before her white owner, she shook her head to beg off. So, Gevaudan had gone first by moving his white-furred body as he clumsily contact juggled two transparent acrylic balls over his claw and digits. Then Zhevra had danced for him. It really was just randomly shifting of her form as she pretended to manipulate the two fans he gave her to do so. The affirmative nod Zhevra gave at the memory brought smiles to the triplets.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Do tell,” Laor said without thinking of Zhevra’s mental lock on her vocabulary.

“Orange,” Zhevra reminded Laor.

“Op! So sorry, milady.”

Zhevra nodded but since it was a warmer summer for Dzuerongvoe’s northern hemisphere, she pulled one of two folding fans she owned. Leaning on one of the forearm crutches, Zhevra waved her fan about as she swayed her hips as far as she dared, not fully trusting her regained legs’ stamina.

“Please say you will dance at the Fete, milady Zhevra!” exclaimed Nurki.

Laor fell silent at the request. Zhevra limped over to her, “Orange?”

“Milady, I-“ Laor said unsure to continue. “I want to say something. I asked Fade to put the bottle of bubble bath in your bathroom that first day you arrived. I… we, thought it was a good idea at the time. We didn’t know about, your, your legs and how dangerous it was.”

“We’re very sorry, milady,” said the other two triplets said in unison. “We urged Fade to do it, knowing she was a sneaky git,” said Nurki.

This was news to Zhevra. Though there was only one key to the room, a stealthy climber could have descended from a higher story and entered the bathroom through the window there. Sneaky git is right, Zhevra thought gently of the middle child of Dr. Adhllu. Was the bottle of bubble bath an attempt on her life or now a nicety gone wrong? Zhevra remembered how deeply concerned the Dame had been.

The Suedzuk smiled sincerely to the three teenagers and said gently, “Orange.” Forgiven.

“Do we still get to attend the Fete?” asked a guilt-ridden Anglla.
Zhevra nodded and waved her fan some more. Perhaps she would be well enough to fan dance that night, for Gev, though would not be there. The triplets watched her for a bit before the group retired so Zhevra could continue her studies of Pack Cannagrrh.

By process of elimination, Zhevra learned the names of the Unequals still alive in Pack Cannagrrh. That evening, she recalled that there were three chairs empty in the dining hall. Counting off each name she could remember and place, she noted three now adult Cannagrrh, from two of the three main families who were listed as Unequal and absent from the Villa’s dinnertime gatherings. One was Kaer Cannagrrh, from a distant branch that descended down to Dame Qithka and Gevaudan’s generation. The other two were named Lieutenant Dhueth Cannagrrh and Sub-Lieutenant Knirr Cannagrrh. Dhueth was the older brother to Capt. Voellzoen, an Equal where Dhueth was not. Knirr, a female noted on the family tree diagram, was born much later. Zhevra guessed that old Admiral Orgorr must have had her later in life while taking anagathics perhaps paid for with retainer funds over the years. Maybe that was why the Admiral of the Equality War was so decrepit with age. Were the three Unequals ostracized? Why did these three refuse the Equality Test? Was it because of fear of the exams or the extraction of their canine teeth? Which two were escorting the Unequal female, Uthka Varzeekh that Dame Qithka had mentioned to Cannagrrh Villa? These questions needed answers as the days went on and therapy continued.

A week later, Zhevra was able to finally walk to the applause and cheers of encouragement from the therapists, the physician and the cubs and triplets. She had by now memorized all the names of those she met each day, took meals with and heard news of absentees. It was time to step outside the keep and truly walk the grounds of Cannagrrh Villa.

In her black Engineer’s flight suit, still evident of Gev’s claw marks, (she had refused to allow the suit a mending), Zhevra was met outdoors by Capt. Voellzoen.

“May I be your escort today, milady Zhevra?” asked Voellzoen politely and offering his arm. She took it and held onto him whenever the ground became precarious or inclined. Yet in doing so, the Suedzuk Awareness of bioelectric fields told her something was amiss with this male. “We have an excellent shooting range for practice? Care to squeeze off some rounds?”

Not wanting to give away her inner red flags, Zhevra nodded and mistakenly said, “Orange.” Enemy.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The shooting range was along the wall on the far side of the estate from the brewery and winery. To the south, Zhevra could see the South Wood downhill from the Villa. The Captain and the Engineer took up hunting pistols and shot at targets. Zhevra noted that Voellzoen was an excellent marksman. Meanwhile, Gevaudan had never let her train in ranged weaponry; blades yes, for the Equality Test, but not firearms. Zhevra soon discovered that at inanimate targets with no bioelectric field, she was missing one of her senses in aiming the weapon. Her hits were on the target but not in the proper field of the target. Zhevra’s misses were scored on the piles of sandbags behind the line of targets.

“Perhaps a lady’s pistol would be better in your claws than a long-barrel hunting caliber, yes?” offered Voellzoen.

Zhevra shrugged and conceded wordlessly. She could hum a throwing knife or swing a machete with ease, but inanimate targets needed work.

Voellzoen smiled a wicked grin, “I know. Perhaps you might be better hitting larger targets. There is a summer Hunt planned well before the Solstice. Even if you don’t shoot, perhaps tracking in the South Wood might be better? There will be teams of Cannagrrh out that day, so you won’t be alone. What do you say, Zhevra Cannagrrh?” Did she detect a tinting of sarcasm in her surname?

Zhevra at last nodded at the offer.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XVI. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
It was Zhevra’s Awareness that allowed her to spot Faedoukhdaekuell, ‘Fade’ – Faed as Zhevra intended to pronounce it properly once she could speak it – hiding in her bedroom. The middle child of Dr. Adhllu was crouched behind some hat boxes atop the armoire. As Zhevra hobbled tired from the day’s walk to and from the shooting range in addition to the therapy session the day before, she felt Faedoukhdaekuell rather than saw her. Having been close enough to ken her fields previously, Zhevra gently reached up and pulled down a stack of hat boxes by stepping from the armoire and shouting, “Orange!” Then she giggled up at the discovered and surprised Fade.

“That was the first time, in a long, long time, milady,” Fade said as she climbed down and curtsied to Zhevra, “that anyone has detected my hiding spot.”

Zhevra was gleefully alarmed that the middle cub had again infiltrated her locked bedroom and to show that she was not angry, the Suedzuk jumped on her bed to a sitting position. It took the weight off her legs and was a welcome place to finally court the sneaky git.

“How did you detect me?” asked Faedoukhdaekuell. She reached the floor and stood before Zhevra like an Intelligence Agent before superior officer.

“Orange,” said Zhevra who laid a finger over her mouth, shushing herself. Secret.

“Oh,” the middle-school female said without the usual apology others gave for coaxing Zhevra to speak.

Zhevra then decided then was a good time to interrogate the future Agent. She pointed to the open door to her bathroom, to the empty tub. Tell me about the bubble bath, Faed.

Faedoukhdaekuell followed the pointed claw’s target and nodded guiltily. “That. I am the one who left the bottle on the tub for you, milady. The triplet, Laor I think, said she got the idea from her pa, saying that he told Laor that ladies like to take long, hot bubble baths to…. y’know, cover up in case anyone enters while they are bathing. Is that true?”

Voellzoen! Zhevra had to use her utmost burial of this new information in order to answer the early teen’s question. A deceptive, stealthy, dexterous and cunning female like Faedoukhdaekuell might be just as good at detecting her reactions to this new detail. “Orange,” the Suedzuk confessed with a smile. Yes, we do.

Zhevra beckoned Faed to her for a hug. The embrace let her feel the female’s fields. The child’s Mag was down and her Lek was high. She was nervous about the Suedzuk. Well she should be, thought Zhevra who could reach the carving knife where she sat. Then she let the cub go and folded her claws in her lap.

The encounter over, Faedoukhdaekuell backed out of the bedroom after curtsying and through the door still unlocked. Zhevra mildly watched her go.
Laor had not mentioned her sire. She had only said, I… we, thought it was a good idea at the time. Her father had let the idea intimate that Laor should ask Faed to sneak the bottle from Dhurranae’s bathroom, climb down from her room somewhere on the second floor and deposit it right where Zhevra, unthinking, would utilize it that first night from the hospital. Two sneaky gits in one house, only the older git was a naval Captain and there would be no proving the deed, even if the girls somehow confessed.

Zhevra could go to the Dame and warn the household of her puzzle work back to Voellzoen. The Captain had wanted Zhevra the Suedzuk to drown in the tub, an accident that would end up one word against another with the girls traumatized for life in the courtrooms. Thus, the Suedzuk decided to play dumb again but this time to keep an eye on the Captain. The Hunt was likely the next accident to happen. Then she would have allies and there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind. Zhevra would not have to say anything other than orange. But to stay ignorant or portray ignorance, she would have to be successful at fooling the entire household, including Agent Faed of the Children’s Intelligence Agency. C.I.A., thought Zhevra with a little chuckle. Zhevra’s one-word vocabulary was becoming her insulation and shield from making a verbal misstep here in Cannagrrh Villa. If she had panicked and ran to the Dame, she might have said something, anything that could paint her as a hysterical former patient fresh from a three-year coma. Then the incredulous looks would appear on faces. Voellzoen would discredit her with paranoia and accusations of survivor’s guilt at the loss of her husband.

The male was stacking chips against her, or Zhevra was building his walls for him. So, she quit scheming for the time being and visited Dr. Adhllu to give the overly curious geneticist some face time at last. Within minutes of appearing from her bedroom, the hobbling Zhevra managed to flag down Nurki the youngest of the dark-furred daughters of Capt. Voellzoen. At the very end of the west wing of the keep was an exit to an outlying building, home to Adhllu’s lab also the Villa’s medical facility this far rural.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Dr. Adhllu was at a microscope when Zhevra was let in by Nurki. She stood up surprised and bid the Suedzuk enter with, “Zhevra! You’re quite stronger today. Still not talking? How about this? I have something that might help you converse, beyond that color.” Adhllu beckoned Zhevra over. The red and cream Vargr dismissed Nurki back to the keep and approached the doctor.

On the counter was a pile of childrens Gvegh letters used in basic spelling games. “I thought of this as I passed the forgotten nursery, now that little Dhuerranae is in school. She used these when she started reading, but before she could properly write. Here. Can you form some words with them?”

Dr. Adhllu did not know she could already write with a pen and type with her index claws on the laptop computer. Someday Zhevra determined that she would have to learn to properly keyboard in Gvegh. Playing dumb yet again, Zhevra put together O-R-A-N-G-E and flattened her ears to a droop, pretending to have failed. Tears came to her eyes, truly because she had just successfully deceived the doctor. Who knew what part of the brain governed speech and which governed reading and writing? A doctor.
Yet, the female dam of three saw her crying and said, “There, Zhevra. It’s alright. Don’t worry. Though you are walking again, the mind remains to our sciences a territory to which we are still pioneers, even with the advent of psionics and our Vargr senses. Don’t cry.”

Then the tears and sobs came on Zhevra for real at the hug from the physician. Zhevra actually didn’t know if she would ever speak again, even if she was able to read, write and type. As the physician strengthened her embrace in sympathy, Zhevra’s PTSD triggered. It was the medical scents on the female doctor. Similar to the medical pantry on the Sixth Horizon, the smells of medical supplies, drugs and the laboratory around her triggered an earthquake from inside Zhevra. She sobbed and cried, shook and came down with chills. The laboratory was quite cold, like the hospital had been.

“It’s okay,” assured Adhllu. “I have you, Zhevra. I know. You’re suffering from the PTSD the hospital doctors diagnosed you with. Learn to let go of the symptoms early rather than ride them out. I’m here for you.”

The two moved to adjacent lab stools and sat holding each other. Guilt at deceiving the doctor raked at Zhevra, triggering her survivor’s guilt.

“Orange,” sobbed Zhevra for real. Gevaudan.

“You are an amazing female, Zhevra,” pointed out Adhllu. “When you can, may I take a base line genotype sample of stem cells, to study the Suedzuk genes?”

Now? Zhevra was hit with a second set of alarms, red flags inside her. What if the doctor, in her genuine curiosity, discovered the Suedzuk Awareness? She was not ready to let Adhllu know about her sixth sense of bio- and electromagnetic fields. It might tip off murderous and conniving Voellzoen. He might take more direct action before she could speak properly. Fear of this discovery brought on a second set of tremors.

“Op! Oh no. I’m so sorry,” said Adhllu seeing what she had caused. “Forget I asked. Please don’t cry again. You’ll make me cry along with you. Poor thing.” More hugging and swaying together ensued from the dam of three. They sat there in the lab until Zhevra was calm enough for Dr. Adhllu to escort her back to the keep.

* * *

“Y’know, Mr. Templeton,” said Zhevra as the night was fully descended over her cell window, “Gevaudan said he used to sleepwalk when he was a younger Courier, before his travelling days in the Spinward Marches. He told me he would wake up with small cargo containers in his arms.” She then lifted her manacled claw to point at Khzaeng who was leaning against the corner of the cell, his eyes closed and ears drooping flat. A tiny, breathing snore, almost imperceptible to the ears issued from the Aekhu’s nose. Zhevra could tell the Psion was asleep. It was in his reduced Mag and relaxed Lek.

Allain looked up to where Zhevra was pointing. He poked the standing Vargr male. “Khzaeng. Khzaeng!”

The Psion snorted awake and caught himself. “Ahem.”

“Let’s go, pal. No space to sleep here tonight.”

“Agreed,” blinked the Aekhu male, who led the way out when the new guards arrived.

Zhevra took her place in the back of the cell and turned away from the two departing males, “Good night, Gentlemen.”

Zhevra dreamed that night, just as she had that last night, of Gevaudan. As her legs and communication improved, the flares of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms worsened. He told her as he did now in her mind’s eye, half on the edge of thinking and dreams, “Remember this always: I love you unconditionally forever.” He beckoned her with his Come-Hither index claw. His EMP collar reflected a flash of azure blue just once. Her cell chains rattled under the covers to her paroxysm of pleasure in remembering the summons to his bunk on the Far Scout vessel. She bit the pillow with her canid teeth to stifle her voice, just as she had done in the bedroom at Cannagrrh Villa.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XVII. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
The guards took Zhevra to the showers the next morning, forcing the Human advocate and the Vargr Psion to wait until they returned. Three of the biggest female Humans and a pert female Darrian held Zhevra’s chain leash which was long enough to let her use the shower. “Thank Runetha,” she said as accepted shampoo and a loofah from the bubbly Darrian blonde. The shower robbed her of her Awareness by soaking her to the flesh, but it was so good to get clean again.

“Who is Runetha?” asked the Darrian guardswoman.

“My husband is a Follower of Runetha Saetedz who lived from 817 to 866. He was a scout, a pirate, adventurer, and scoundrel. You’d love him. He died heroically. Some holy-rollers studied Saetedz’ life and took up Runetha’s philosophy of heroic deeds before material excess. Quite simply, Followers are ‘heroes’.”

The explanation piqued the Darrian guard who contributed, “Kind of like our Darrian Hero Gods, from long before the Maghiz.”

“Dunno. Isn’t the Maghiz further back in time.”

“Well yes,” admitted the blonde.

A weird set of crazy struck Zhevra, who was in a humorous mood this morning. As she handed over her towel to the Darrian while the other three women anchored her cell chain in their hands, she said to the blonde, “Y’know, before they could haul me off you, I could throat you with my teeth.” Then, as if she has said nothing, Zhevra stepped to a full-body heat dryer machine that blasted her red and cream fur with jets of warm air.
The Darrian blonde looked like she had been hit with a gravcar. Zhevra smiled to herself as she dried fully her body’s fur.

The Suedzuk was given her prison blues to wear back to her cell. The lady guards walked behind her whispering, “What did she say to you again?” The Darrian did not repeat Zhevra’s words and frowned the entire way back.
The cellblock guards locked Zhevra’s chains to the back of the cell just as Allain and Khzeng entered without waiting on the safety protocol. It earned them a wry smile from the Suedzuk.

“Rested are we?”

Both nodded and all three sat down to breakfast. Allain munched on a croissant with egg, cheese and a poultry of some unknown kind. The two Vargr tore into two racks of ribs from a grazer beast after heaping steak sauce over the ribs. All three enjoyed doctored coffee.

“Who says prisoners don’t eat well?” asked Zhevra between bites. It earned her a strange look from Allain and Khzaeng. The two relapsed into professionalism after the meal. Allain switched on the recording device and Khzaeng took his place in the corner.

* * *

Another week of therapy and daily interactions with the Pack Cannagrrh went by. Zhevra had by then made good friends with Chef Raegksungkuen who was a master of bacon bits sprinkled into everything Zhevra loved to eat. The two spent a day cooking together to ease Zhevra’s boredom after therapy. Rae talked incessantly as Zhevra nodded her head or agreed with the cook by saying, “Orange.”

“Och. There ya go again. Citrus is bad for ya, luv. Gives the acid burn in the tummy when you eat it with other foods. Eat it alone or not at all, luv.”
The two females giggled over dessert trays for the cubs who came running once the secret was out. Then Zhevra was off to meet with the Dame Qithka in her library desk area.

“Come in, Zhevra,” said the matronly Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. “I have gotten wind from Voellzoen that you accepted his invitation to the Hunt, on his team no less. Outrageous. He’s a Traditionalist of Pack Cannagrrh, didn’t you know?”

In a pose of curiosity, Zhevra tilted her head, baring her neck in supplicant’s attention to higher charisma. What’s a Traditionalist?

“Oh,” recognized the Dame, “You aren’t up on Cannagrrh factions. Well, let’s begin. Sunggzur Cannagrrh, who saw the see-saw effect back and forth between conservative consolidation of Pack assets coupled with the development of the arts and sciences to further our means and the aggressive business and military conquest of markets and territory as a means to Pack wealth. These were dubbed the Progressives and the Traditionalists respectively. Some branches of the Pack subscribed to neither faction, but a majority of us did. Sunggzur had three offspring and for his heir he chose my dam, Souegh Cannagrrh. Because she was an Emissary, neither a Scholar or Scientist nor a Merchant or Warlord, she was recognized as a fulcrum, a third spoke in the Pack that could adjust to the times and end the back and forth between Progressive and Traditionalist extremes of Vargr culture. We teetered a lot back then and often with the changing winds, you see. I think it is a function of charisma and its flux due to males Infighting all the time. Ah well. So as the years went, the balance has held true.”

“That peace became threatened when Souegh, Alpha of the Pack before me had to choose her heir. Knowing the histories of the families, she saw the black marks in each, poor wisdom, Unequals and other faux pas. But Gevaudan and I, then still adventuring in and around the Fifth Frontier War between the Third Imperium and the combined forces of the Outworld Coalition, were the dead ringers for the job. The Progressives nominated me, then a Journalist and Entertainment star for Kfan Uzangou the magazine. They felt that even though I was no Emissary like my dam, I did show integrity and objectivity in my field reporting, a trait they blew out of proportion in supporting me for the next Alpha. I had star power, charisma for years. I was loved by those I didn’t know who saw me on their monitors at home or at work. Gevaudan, my brother, was also covered in my reports. In the reports that my robot, Witness, uploaded and sent back to the magazine, the Pack got a look at his heroics, his philosophy, his skill as a Pilot-Astrogator and his ‘goodness’ you have come to know as his wife. The Traditionalists backed him for Alpha and told my dam so. He was not a charismatic Scout-Courier, but he had the heroics down pat.”

“According to Pack law, when there is a pair of worthy candidates with no black marks to speak of, the Alpha has to choose between the two for heir. My brother and I had long overcome our sibling rivalry in the Fifth Frontier War. The decision lie with forcing us to Infight for the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. I remember reading the letter the Pack sent to us.”

“We would have to Infight to First Blood. I used to be the one to challenge Gevaudan to settle issues I had with his antics, bedding non-Equals from the Julian Protectorate, getting himself augmented with cybernetics, and his crew that almost jeopardized an entire solar system. That sort of misadventures I could not let my brother delve without great need. We fought often enough and in front of or within earshot of Humans. Silly thing is, neither of us were great at Infighting. It was a circus to watch us brawl and wrestle in staterooms while concerned Humans and Imperium Vargr in the crew banged on our door to get us to quiet down. My, those were the years I miss.”

“But the letter was a sentence for one of us to come home, defeat the other in another circus show before all, so they could get their savage on in seeing blood on our white pelts. Then my cunning brother pulled a fast one on me.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

He let you off the Sixth Horizon at Ouse Faeg and then lifted while you collected your bags, Zhevra typed on the laptop and displayed to the Dame.

“He told you,” guessed Qithka, her claws laced and supporting her muzzle on the desk.

Zhevra nodded, rest is history.

“Yes,” concluded Dame Qithka Cannagrrh. “I was forced out of my already successful career and Gevaudan continued his wanderings free as a lark. I got a title, responsibilities and the power to herd a Pack and two very angry factions demanding blood.”

“The Progressives,” Qithka started anew, “got what they wanted, but could not control me. The Traditionalists went to sulk and start the Equality War. I went on the pill, anagathics that is, once I found out that Gevaudan had been on anagathics long before me. The stuff did not work nearly as well as it did for my brother. Not once did Gevaudan write. Then we got the public record that he started marrying non-Equals to bypass immigration laws. That went over like a nuclear warhead. Then, finally, there was you in 1185. Talk of ‘Red Pelt’ and ‘Sack of Gashikan’ and STDs and anything else scandalous was mentioned. They were simply curious and used negativity as a means to vent their curiosity. When you arrived in the hospital, everyone saw you and thought you were the next ruby scepter. Gifts and letters arrived in your room. But you never woke for them. Why?”

Zhevra shrugged, but then typed on the laptop, where does one go when there is a disconnect between one’s core, the mind, and all else?

“Good answer, Socrates.”

Zhevra watched as the Dame rose from her desk and walk to a stack of nearby books. Hidden between several piles in one haphazard stack was a simple metal case with a handle and a lockable latch. The aluminum case lifted easily once Qithka cleared the concealing books. About the size of a thick dictionary, the thing held something smaller inside. The Alpha brought it back to the desk and set it before Zhevra. “Open it,” she commanded. “You’ll need it soon, I am thinking to wager.”

Zhevra reached to the case and unlatched the lid. Opening it revealed a foam liner with a pistol, and several magazine clips with three kinds of ammunition. From her days in boot camp, the armor piercing and antipersonnel rounds were recognizable. The Suedzuk pointed at the last clip of bullets. Qithka noticed Zhevra’s indication and explained with, “Anti-Psion rounds. Nail a psi-user with them and they can’t think straight enough to psych you out.”

Zhevra’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t know what to think of Qithka. Was she a public eye field correspondent or a secret agent?

“I’ve never used those rounds,” Qithka defended her actions, “so quit looking at me like that. A young female has to defend herself. And do you see one in front of you?”

Zhevra nervously shook her head. She was now considering that though she had trained with blades for the Equality Test, one sharp knife can feed you, clothe you, keep you warm and dry, Zhevra was not allowed to keep the blades. This was the first true weapon given to her since the Enclave Service and back then, it was an issued service weapon that had to be returned.

“Well go on,” said the Dame, “it’s yours now. Say thank you.”

“Orange,” intoned Zhevra like she was hypnotized by the order from the Dame. Thank you.

“Just don’t run around like some asinine law enforcement officer,” Qithka suggested. “He who lives by the sword…”

Zhevra nodded her head as if she had been imparted wisdom from a master of life, the self, and everything.

“I expect that to be on your person when you attend this coming Hunt,” said the Alpha. “Those urraenkaers come in herds and are carnivores, make no mistake. Now get out before I change my mind. Shoo.”

Zhevra got up slowly, afraid that her legs would relapse into paraplegia, turned and left the library while carrying the closed case in two reverent claws. Gevaudan would be turning over in his…. wherever he was, low berth perhaps. She hoped that was where he was. She went quickly to her room, hoping nobody had seen the female with the single word vocabulary carrying around a firearm weapon. One does not present the crazy with guns. But the Dame didn’t think Zhevra was crazy, did she? The compliment unspoken was a little heartening to the Suedzuk.

Though Zhevra’s physical rehabilitation required only a superficial checkup, to which she began morning stretches and exercises each day, she was visited weekly by the speech therapist. But sadly, that cursed fruit was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

 

[The Pakkrat]

A week after the firearm gift from the Dame, Zhevra saw from the window of her bedroom the grav-van arrive at the Villa’s front entrance. As the window faced the front of the estate and provided a vista of the South Wood, Zhevra watched as two military Vargr, one male, the other a female slightly older looking than Zhevra step from the grav-van. The pair assisted a third, elderly female dressed in a purple robe and carrying a cane in the form of an Asclepius rod, from the vehicle. As the trio began to ascend the grand steps up to the door, Zhevra saw that all three were Unequal. Each wore a waist belt that seemed out of place and a harness of belts, a muzzle of straps, rings and buckles about their heads. No one from the staff was outside to welcome them. The three spoke to each other briefly before Zhevra heard them open the great doors of the foyer. She turned and padded to her bedroom door.

Zhevra had seen Unequals before, but knew that their numbers were significantly less than Equals and Inequals, those who had failed the Equality Test and were summarily excised of their Vargr canines. Insular and on the edge of society, the Unequals were ever present and ever overlooked. They were the black sheep of the Society of Equals, lessers and almost non-persons. The only thing that kept them from true pariahs was the laws in place to protect them from abuse. Their only redemption in the Dzen Aeng Kho was to at last take and pass the Equality Test and rise to true citizenship in the polity. As they were now, the Society of Equals treated them like poor civilians at best.

Zhevra opened her bedroom door to find the male son of Dr. Adhllu, the sandy-furred Gaenkarrg. He looked surprised to see her open the door as he was in mid-gesture of knocking at her door. He closed his open mouth and hid his surprise upon seeing Zhevra.

“Orange?” asked Zhevra, again forgetting her vocabulary lock.

“S-sorry, milady.” Gaenkarrg apologized then announced, “The Alpha bid me inform you that Unequal Uthka Varzeekh has arrived. With her are Unequal Lieutenant Dhueth and Unequal Sub-Lieutenant Knirr Cannagrrh, son and daughter of Adm. Orgorr. Um, you do understand what an Unequal is, right, milady?”

Zhevra nodded though she kept quiet. With an ushering gesture to be escorted, Zhevra took his arm to the lad’s surprise. His tail swished excitedly though his face tried to hide his nervousness at having a female hold his arm. Gaenkarrg thus escorted the Suedzuk not to the foyer or the hall, but in a detouring route to the grand ballroom’s exterior balcony facing the northeast corner of the estate.

Zhevra looked around corners and down hallways, hoping for another, closer view of the newcomers. She then remembered that Gaenkarrg had mentioned that Lt. Dhueth and S-Lt. Knirr were Cannagrrh. They might be presenting the robed Uthka Varzeekh to the Alpha, Dame Qithka. She was about to agree to that conclusion when Gaenkarrg drew back a set of purple drapes to reveal a set of patio table and chairs in the light of the late morning. A placement setting for four persons was already laid out. Zhevra and Gaenkarrg stopped on the balcony.

“The Alpha is to take tea here with you, milady,” explained Gaenkarrg. “I was not invited, only to bring you. Can I be dismissed here?” He was so polite, and mannered. This lad would make a worthy Emissary someday. Zhevra nodded her assent and moved to the stone balcony rail to wait for the others. Gaenkarrg gave a quick bow at the hip and departed.

Zhevra examined the vases of flowers, each crested with the Cannagrrh Mansche, the nebulous galaxy emblem and sporting lilies this morning. Soon, she could hear the approach of vocal Dame Qithka, the black leather boots of the two Unequal Cannagrrh from Adm. Orgorr’s family, and the hushed voice of Uthka Varzeekh who responded to the Dame when the Alpha paused.

The heavy purple drapes parted from inside the grand ballroom and Unequal Lt. Dhueth Cannagrrh held them open for the females. He was dressed in a navy blue duty uniform. His pelt was gray with white ventral fur stemming from his mouth and down his neck to disappear under his garb. Dhueth’s tail was white ventrally like Zhevra’s was white though her dorsal fur was red. When he noticed Zhevra waiting, she saw he had a grisly overbite and that one of his lower long canines poked out of his mouth. His chin’s fur was longer making his muzzle look like he had a Human goatee beard of a short fashion. His eyes were a rich amber. He stood formal and his demeanor was dignified despite his belted head and muzzle.

The Dame Qithka came next. She was dressed today in a bright yellow sun dress and wore her usual jewelry of silver and ruby ovals. Her bracelet crystal flashed in the light as she gestured towards the high tea waiting for the party.

Then, from the shadows of the ballroom emerged gray-furred, Unequal Uthka Varzeekh. Still in a royal purple robe that featured a pulled back hood, the middle-aged female moved like she was much older. About her waist was tied a golden-orange sash belt. Zhevra had heard the strange color was called orich and not orange. A similar but smaller sash of the same color was loosely tied about her muzzle and its remainder knotted behind her head and draping down her hunched back. She wore gold bangle bracelets that jingled and a loose necklace hung about her neck ruff. Across her torso was slung a huge, woven, lady’s bag decorated with copper coins along its flap and outer edge. It was stuffed with items and glinted in the two suns of Dzuerongvoe. Her gait was punctuated by her use of a cane, its dark wood, (the same as the wood of the Villa), carved with a serpent coiling up to the handle. It was same motif as the medical Asclepius rod. Was she a doctor of some medical science? This was the female Unequal that the Dame had notified Zhevra was coming to help the Suedzuk. She walked a step beside and behind Dame Qithka as if it were her place the entire time, from years before Zhevra was born.

Behind the Alpha and the Unequal followed Unequal Sub-Lieutenant Knirr. Similar pelt coloration as Lt. Dhueth, Knirr was significantly younger than the previous three. She looked slightly older than Zhevra, but by a number of years she could not enumerate. She wore a female’s duty uniform the same navy blue as Dhueth but below her Unequal’s belt was a long, pleated skirt that was almost a dress as it came down to her digitigrade knees. It was she and Dhueth that wore the shiny black leather military boots that echoed the ballroom with each step. They were in uniforms of the Dzen Aeng Kho interstellar Navy. Zhevra could see the two Vargr fangs on a circle of blood red, the emblem of the polity. How these Unequals were military, the Suedzuk could not fathom. Gevaudan had told his wife that those who refused the Equality Test were severely limited in their choice of careers, often relegated to the poorly paying jobs. She decided that there was a story to this and wanted to catch Knirr later and ask as Dhueth’s fields felt stiff and cynical. His Mag was down and his Lek was positively shocking. This male was not in a good mood.

“I need to go and unpack the grav-van,” declared Lt. Dhueth Cannagrrh. “Knirr will remain.” His voice was gruff, like one who spends too much time yelling at his subordinates, Zhevra guessed. Then he shared a locked gaze with the Alpha, Dame Qithka. Unspoken words in their facial expressions seemed exchanged. Then he left the females to the high tea.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Zhevra Cannagrrh,” introduced Qithka, “please come here and meet Uthka Varzeekh.” The Suedzuk noted that while behind their backs, they were labeled ‘Unequal’, but to their faces the shameful title was dropped. “Uthka is a longtime acquaintance of mine, back during my field correspondence years.”

“Feh,” scoffed Uthka, her voice crackly and harboring a thick accent, “Dose vere de years, yes.” She spoke good Gvegh, but there was a regional accent Zhevra could not place. “I vould like tea now, please.” At that the robed female reached into her lady’s bag and produced a large ceramic mug to place it on an empty saucer. Zhevra saw the Galanglic letters on the side of the mug that read: I (Heart) Tea.

“Oh yes,” recalled the Dame who sat first at the table as was her station as host and Alpha of the Pack. “You still remember where you got that mug?”

“Yes,” answered Uthka, “T’vas that Human Sebastien that purchased this one.”

Qithka seemed to feel alone at the table and beckoned Uthka to sit, then to Zhevra and Knirr. Knirr sat last, as if on purpose. “Zhevra, this is Sub-Lieutenant Knirr, Society Navy and youngest of cousin Orgorr.”

“Orange,” said Zhevra. Pleased. She let out a frustrated huff at herself as she offered her claw to Knirr sitting beside Zhevra.

“No worries, milady Zhevra,” said Knirr who returned the offerd claw clasp. Her voice was crisp and military, but still gentle now that this was a Cannagrrh females’ venue. She had no trouble speaking or taking tea through her muzzle belt once tea began pouring and high tea had begun. “From what Madam Uthka has let me know, you will be soon announcing your ascension.”

The Dame stopped for the span of seconds and regarded Knirr. Zhevra could feel the faux pas between the current Alpha and the Sub-Lieutenant. “I’m not dead yet.” Zhevra looked across the small table to Uthka to see if the female in purple had any reaction to the misspoken words. If it had not been for her researching into the history of the Pack, Zhevra would not have placed Knirr with the Traditionalists faction of the Cannagrrh families. Then Qithka composed herself and she asked Uthka questions of small-talk, her journey to Dzuerongvoe and the like.

Uthka, with her elderly claws about her large mug of tea, stared at Zhevra with gray eyes that seemed to see straight through her as if she were focused on the horizon behind the Suedzuk. Zhevra also noted a change in her fields via her Awareness. A thin and almost-hidden and wry smile crept up one side of her gray and white muzzle and under the orich sash tied about her head.

High tea continued as the females drank tea, today’s blend an orange pekoe and munched meat sandwiches. Knirr caught Zhevra looking at her duty uniform and explained to the Suedzuk. “My uniform? Are you curious? Okay. Dhueth and I are no longer in the navy truly. But because we were discharged without dishonor, we get to keep our uniforms and decorations. Today, my elder brother and I serve the Dzen Aeng Kho in the Privateer sector. We are what you might call mercenaries. We hunt Corsairs and illegal trafficking between the Society and our enemies such as the Thirz.”

Zhevra recalled from her history studies that there was still some simmering animosity, even decades later as worlds slowly were returned to the Society of Equals after occupation by the Thirz Empire. As a Privateer, Knirr and her brother were legally chartered to conduct patrols, raids, seize ships and cargos that smuggled or spied across the Edge, a thin strip of space between the two polities, a demilitarized zone of armistice. Zhevra nodded her understanding of Knirr’s explanation.

“There are not enough rooms in the keep,” noted Qithka aloud, “so you and Dhueth might need to find quarters on the estate grounds if you’re staying all this time until the Solstice Fete.”

Knirr’s expression dropped to a polite neutral, to Zhevra her fields becoming solid and defensive. “As you say, Alpha,” she answered formally.

“Orange,” said Zhevra with an idea. She pointed to Knirr, a plan hatching at the same time in her head. Then she flicked her claws between Knirr and herself.

“You wish to share your bedroom with the Sub-Lieutenant, Zhevra?” asked Dame who was about to sip from her tea cup.

Zhevra nodded. The bedroom was huge and so was the four-poster. It seemed too decadent for a Suedzuk Engineer from the Sixth Horizon so used to small staterooms. She smiled a pleading expression and tilted her head, exposing her neck. It worked.

“As you wish, Zhevra,” she said, “but keep your gifts close. Knirr here is a soldier and a Traditionalist.”

“My views on how this Pack should be run are of no value as long as I wear this,” said Knirr tersely as she pointed to the muzzle buckled on her head. “I hear you are an Engineer, Zhevra. As Gevaudan’s wid-… wife you must have helped him aboard that Imperium vessel of his.”

The tea was full of prickly topics today. Zhevra nodded to Knirr and held up her five claw digits to indicate her rating in Engineering.

“How many terms?” asked Knirr.

The five digits reduced to two and she flattened her ears.

“I was almost limited to that many as well. Tell you about it later.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

High tea concluded as Dame Qithka looked to Zhevra and announced, “Zhevra, Knirr and I are leaving this table. You will stay with Uthka until she dismisses you. I will be in the library.”

Knirr finished for herself with, “I will bring my things to your room, so don’t be surprised when you return.” Something about her golden amber eyes offered familiarity from the uniformed female to Zhevra.

Then Qithka rose, Knirr following suit. The two said parting words to Uthka Varzeekh, Qithka’s cross-status acquaintance familiarity contrasted with the familiarity of two Vargr who shared Unequality. Though the robed female nodded to each, she kept her gray eyes on Zhevra. Alone at last, the gray female emptied her mug of its tea and looked down into it. Was she actually reading tea leaves at the bottom of her cup like some fortune teller that the Dame had described her? The eccentric Uthka then sniffed her mug once, like Gevaudan did. It would be quite the coincidence if she too had olfactory synesthesia as did her husband. That was very, very rare.

The silence was disturbing Zhevra and she could feel the chills starting up inside her though the two suns, pale blue and pale orange, beat down on the open balcony landing now.

“Now child,” began Uthka Varzeekh. “Ve vill begin to pick your locks, yes?”

Now? Zhevra was caught off guard. Obeisantly, she complied with a nod of her head and refusing to speak.

Uthka looked about her, to make sure the two were alone Zhevra guessed. Nodding her head, she began removing items from her large bag that had never been set aside. Zhevra complied with the need for space on the table by picking up the saucers and cups, stacking them neatly to one side. Flatware rattled as her extremities began tremoring a little. What was it about this female across from the table that could trigger her PTSD?

On the table before Uthka was a small hourglass, perhaps minutes in duration per turn. Beside it was a black velvet pouch with a stack of what sounded like metal plates about the size of spread digits claw. A list of written items on paper was weighed down by the black pouch to keep the morning zephyrs from lifting it. As if the two stars’ sunshine bothered her, the eccentric fortune teller lifted her hood over her head. Zhevra saw the suns illuminate the silvery inner lining of the hood as it rose to cover Uthka and shade her from the glare.

“I believe you have been trying to tell us somezing, little Suedzuk,” declared the gray female.

Zhevra tilted her head in supplication to Uthka then. What?

Uthka leaned forward and lifted the black pouch and began emptying it of its contents. Out of the velvet came a stack of uniform, hexagonal plates of a strange, bluish gray metal. The Engineer in Zhevra recognized the ultra-rare metal called monadium, a nigh impenetrable and indelible, alien metal. On each was an alien engraving of various different patterns, images and illegible script in a language Zhevra was unfamiliar.

“Dese are Droyne Coyns, Zhevra,” Uthka said as she displayed the metal plates. “Dey vill help me Look.” Then she began shuffling the thin Coyns.

“I vill ask you, Zhevra, a series ov qvestions,” the older female explained, “and you vill answer dem all.” After shuffling the plates and continuing to stare intently at the younger, Uthka said, “You vill have dis long to let slip your mind lock. Or else, I can do nothing vor you, (such is your guilt for living life), and have vasted my time travelling dis far. Answer vith de truth, Suedzuk.” The fortune teller glanced a quick, indicating look at the minute glass.

Zhevra nodded as one by one, the plates of hexagonal monadium were dealt into a pattern on the table, soon covering a portion of its surface. This was getting weird to her, but if Uthka could help, she was determined to try anything to say something, anything other than orange.

Then out from the bag slung on Uthka’s shoulder came an orange, a tangerine, a grapefruit, a swatch of orange cloth, and other sundry items each the color of orange. Surprised, Zhevra suddenly felt this inquisition was now a sick joke at her expense. She almost rose from her chair. An index claw held up from the gray female pinned her to her seat.

“Vait.”

Then the last Coyn was placed in a seemingly random pattern of honeycombed plates. Uthka Varzeekh, fortune teller and perhaps a Seer, full of mystique, smoke and mirrors for all Zhevra’s Awareness told her, began by asking her the questions from the paper list. She turned over the minute glass before Zhevra was ready and spoke.

“Vhat is this?” Uthka asked as she held up the hated citrus fruit.

“Orange,” Zhevra answered fast and nervous against the sands sifting down the minute glass.

“Vhat alert status is dis Sector against Virus currently?”

“Orange.” Gvurrdon Sector was still suffering from potential Virus infection and even in 1190, the Quarantine Line held just Trailing of the Society of Equals. Vampires were still out there in the vastness of space.

“Vhat color is this fruit?” asked Uthka, who speared the smaller tangerine in her claw to hold up to the younger female Vargr.

“Orange,” answered Zhevra. You’re mad. Zhevra’s Awareness revealed the Mag and Lek of the woman across from her as one who was unstable, like Zhevra in her PTSD but not the same.

The questions came faster as Uthka picked up the pace. “Vhat color is dis cloth?”

“Orange!” Gevaudan! Zhevra was beginning to shake. She was becoming triggered at the insistence of Uthka Varzeekh’s mocking questions. The inquisition continued and each time, Zhevra was forced to speak that Ancients-awful word again and again. Tears threatened to emerge in her eyes. Yet, true to the instructions, Zhevra answered each question correctly and truthfully.

“Vhat color is dat star?” Uthka demanded with a pointed claw. One of the suns of Dzuerongvoe was white, the indicated star being a pale orange, a K9 V classification.

“Orange!” She’s mad!

“Vhat flavor is dis tea?” Uthka asked.

The answer was orange pekoe, but Zhevra had to shorten it with, “Orange!” The Suedzuk exclaimed the answer with a raised voice trying against the timer, its sands slipping downward. Gevaudan, help me!

Uthka Looked. She looked right through Zhevra though her focus was still on the red of Zhevra’s muzzle and forehead. Zhevra sniffed as her sinuses began to fill and sobs threatened the inquisition. The old female stood up from her chair suddenly and grabbed her I (Heart) Tea mug.

“Vhat color is Gevaudan’s HEV?!” she asked louder than Zhevra’s exclaimed answers. With a violent backswing and a forward return, she brought her mug down hard on the Coyns on the table. The mug shattered into many pieces with a crashing sound. The Coyns answered in metal clanks against each other but were otherwise unfazed by the breaking of the mug. “Answer!” she yelled at Zhevra. Her eyes blazed that cool gray and her face wrinkled in an angry snarl. Teeth bared, the female challenged Zhevra.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra, in a split second of precious little time left on the draining minute glass, flashed back to the bridge. It was the last place she saw the Hazardous Environment VaccSuit. It was draped over the pilot’s chair at the helm-nav position. The HEV was belted with a grav-belt, a holster with the heavy pistol she had thought to attain and stop her attacking husband. His white fur blocked her path. If only she could tumble under him as he rushed her. Then pain. She thudded the deck again in memory as he rammed his elbows into her shoulders and neck. The last thing she had seen as her vision blurred, was the orange HEV that was Gevaudan’s. Why was it on the bridge? Was he going outside the ship while in jumpspace? But Zhevra was sure that Gevaudan’s Hazardous Environment VaccSuit was orange in color.

The mono-vocabulary Suedzuk felt something inside her give way, a parting of zen-like memory that only allowed for more questions. But there was no more time for them. The minutes were almost up. It had not been three and the last of the sands were slipping.

“Orange!” Zhevra cried. Gev’s HEV is orange! It was on the bridge. He meant to use it! He is alive! Her claws flexed and shook. Tremors rattled her tail in anticipation of the last question before the timer emptied its top chamber.

Uthka’s face was now hooded after shattering her mug, obviously her favorite if Zhevra had time to guess. The old female’s left arm lifted and her claw pointed its index digit to the sky above the two Vargr. “What color is it?” she asked returning her voice to an angry, yet subdued and low growl.

Zhevra followed Uthka’s indicating claw upward with her eyes. The sky. What color was it? Was that the final, insane question for her to answer? She looked at the sky.

“Blue,” Zhevra answered the angry Seer’s question with a dreamy, absent-minded voice drawing out the word a little.

Uthka backhanded the minute glass with her lower, right claw. The simple device fell over with only grains left in its formerly upper chamber. With a deliberate, prowling gait, the old female came around the table to a trembling Zhevra. Holding the Suedzuk’s head in her clawed palm and digit pads, she said gently, “Say somezing.”

“Gevaudan’s HEV is orange in color,” Zhevra said weakly through tears and the shakes. “It’s orange and it was on the bridge with us. I now know what I was trying to tell myself this entire time since the coma. His HEV is orange, the last color I saw before passing out. He had a plan. Savage and killing me, he had a plan. He was not so far gone. His fields were just as crazed, but my husband had a plan.” She looked at the sky again. “And his eyes were crystal azure blue, far different from the ocean blue I remember.”

“Yes!” hissed the eccentric female Vargr holding Zhevra’s head.

“His eyes are blue, Uthka,” sobbed the younger female. “I loved those eyes. I love him still. He loves me, unconditionally forever.”

Uthka released Zhevra’s head and slowly, deliberately backed away whispering, “Yes, I remember too. I saw it through you. I Looked.” The gray female stroked in thought the loose ends of her muzzle sash like a beard.

Zhevra cried and cried, “Gevaudan, where are you?” Her head in her claws, she cried tears, sobbed and shook uncontrollably at the same time.

Uthka Varzeekh laced her claws before her and said, “Zhere is notzing for you here. You vill hunt him, Suedzuk. Dis I know. But vor now, I also know you vill hide your speech vrom those who hunt you, yes?”

The idea had merit and Zhevra nodded from behind her palms. Someone, Voellzoen or other, was trying to kill her, hoping keep her from ascending to Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. Gevaudan was next in line after Qithka. Married to her beloved, his absence meant that his wife would inherit the position should the Dame abdicate leadership of the Pack. She wanted only Gevaudan, not to be chained to a desk in Qithka’s library, to herd a family that was unfamiliar. It was fracturing under its factions and drawing elitist lines between Equals and Unequals. Zhevra wanted to quit Cannagrrh Villa now that she had her legs and her speech again.

“Go,” said Uthka. “Plan your hunt.” She then returned to her chair across the table and began picking up the Droyne Coyns, the minute glass timer and placing them back into her lady’s bag.

“Th-thank you, milady Uthka,” sobbed Zhevra who stood and then sprinted across the balcony veranda and into the grand ballroom. She needed to retreat to her bedroom before anyone could ask her if she was cured.

“Feh,” scoffed the Seer looking about the Villa from her seated position, “no ladies here vor sure.” Then she fidgeted with her waist belt. She was left to consider her broken tea mug.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XVIII. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
From that side of the keep, Zhevra passed close to the library, where Qithka Cannagrrh had said she would be after high tea. Zhevra debated whether to tell the Dame the good news that she could speak again. Coming close to the door to the library, she heard raised voices. Eavesdropping, the Suedzuk paused just short of the opened door.

Captain Voellzoen spoke with an angered voice, “I saw the invitation list, Qithka. You invited the entire Pack, even the Unequals! Are you going to abdicate Alpha in front of them? Is that it?”

“The Fete is soon and though Kaer Cannagrrh has not answered his invitation, I’ll invite whomever I like, Voellzoen! And how dare you suggest I am to step down! I am Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh, named so by Souegh Cannagrrh. I’ll name who is next Alpha when I am good and ready.”

“That dumb-voiced Red Pelt is unfit for Alpha, Qithka,” volleyed Voellzoen. “They’re genocidal thieves, pirates, and murderers for anyone who will pay their way. Is it any wonder that the other Vargr pushed them so far into the Enclaves?”

“Use that term within earshot of me again, Voellzoen and it won’t matter how decorated you are.” Qithka’s aura was detectable from the door where Zhevra crouched. “We will Infight and you will submit, to her too should the time come. And something tells me if you challenge her as you are about to push me too far, you Captain will lose. That female is in love. And she will take up Alpha if it means bringing back Gevaudan Cannagrrh.”

Voellzoen must have seen a muzzle of bared teeth, a challenge for him to accept. Zhevra guessed at the scene she could only listen to. He said in a hiss, “Gevaudan Cannagrrh is dead. If he managed to jaunt off his ship in jumpspace he is a dead Vargr. Outside that jump field, nothing comes back.”

“I dare you to tell that to her, Captain. Now get out. I have preparations to call in.”

Zhevra padded quickly from the great hall, down the corridor toward her bedroom. She did not want to be caught spying on the Alpha and her new nemesis, Voellzoen. Telling Qithka that she could again speak would surely get Zhevra pinned in the library to report on those last moments on bridge of the Sixth Horizon. That was the Dame’s goal all along, Zhevra knew.

Zhevra closed the door to her room and almost locked it from the inside with the key. Stripping off her black flight uniform, she climbed on the bed and took up the laptop computer. If speaking to Qithka was off limits, she could at least send her an e-mail and give her a written report though she felt the Dame would prefer it spoken in private. Qithka still loved her brother Gevaudan. Voice in person had a quality to it that, Zhevra with her Awareness could appreciate. The Suedzuk began typing notes, an outline of what to draft formally in her account on that last night with her berserk husband.

The door to the bathroom opened, mist from the shower wafted into the room. Zhevra turned her head to see Sub-Lieutenant Knirr through the opened door and emerging from the steamy bathroom. She was without any clothes and had her back to Zhevra. Knirr’s tall, lithe, female form was trim and her muscles toned. But Zhevra also saw permanent, glabrous scars on the gray, dorsal backside. Was she abused as an Unequal? Zhevra held her breath and felt Knirr’s fields, renewed fresh from the showering action. The gray female’s Mag was higher than her Lek grounded by the water of the shower.

Knirr turned around and jumped slightly in surprise at seeing Zhevra in her undies and bra, laying prone on the bed typing on the laptop with her index claws. “Op! I’m sorry, Zhevra. I did not think you would be back this soon, so I took a show-“ She then registered that Zhevra was typing. “You can type now! That’s great!” Knirr’s aura was genuine and her gray and white tail wagged emphatically.

Zhevra saw Knirr in full nakedness. She was a larger female and a Gvegh, slightly older than Zhevra. Though mostly gray dorsally, she also had white claws and feet. “White socks” was the term for Zhevra and Knirr with white extremities. Her mane was still wet, but the Sub-Lieutenant had bobbed her facial fur, mane and neck ruff down her back to what could only be described as a pixie cut on Human heads. The close-cropped mane and fur gave Knirr a masculine look except for the fact that she was fully nude before Zhevra.

“Op! Forgot!” Knirr said as she ducked back into the bathroom. When she emerged again seconds later, Zhevra had sat up and placed the laptop on the end table. Though still naked, Knirr had on a towel. But stranger to Zhevra was the fact that she had belted on her Unqual’s belt and muzzle. “It’s the law, a stupid one, but is what it is.”

Zhevra tilted her head in askance of an explanation. Knirr saw the gesture and expression and explained, “Unequals in the presence of Equals must at all times wear these. Supposedly it’s to gently remind us Unequals to keep our opinions to ourselves since we’re barely civilians in the Dzen Aeng Kho.”

Then the towel-clad female saw the laptop again on the nightstand and said, “But you can type now. Can’t you?”

The Suedzuk was not ready to speak and let out Uthka’s success just yet. Nodding, she took up the laptop and began typing a message, Yes, I can type. Near, why does the Dame not like you and why do you wear a uniform skirt?

Zhevra then turned the display to the drying female. Knirr read the words happily, her tail wagging. Zhevra guessed that these were the first words to come from the vocabulary-locked patient and the gray female was the first to experience communication with her. Zhevra knew better, but for now let the Gvegh female before her have the moment.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Knirr began to answer with, “My name is spelled K-N-I-R-R. There are three black marks against me as to why the Dame doesn’t like me, Zhevra.” She pulled from her luggage in the corner some undies and a long sleep shirt. Pulling herself clothed, she continued, “Females in the military wear skirts and that was part of my dress uniform I got to keep after I was drummed out of the service. It’s sexist, I know. You were in your navy, right? The details after you married Gevaudan, your Universal Personal Profile and resume, were public record. I was curious and read them when I had the time after you two got hitched. Did you wear skirts in the navy? Did he give you that collar?”

The Suedzuk nodded her head in answer to both questions. Zhevra had new information on the two Unequals now and flicked the golden heart pendant on the silver D-ring, causing it to flash slightly. Then she typed, You were in battles? Are those battle scars?

Knirr darkened in mood a step and answered, “No. Zhevra, I was beaten in my younger adult years. A sire who should have kicked off long ago, who is stuck almost two generations before my coming, could not accept me for what I am. And I so wanted to be accepted and prove myself in the military, in action and in principles.”

And what are you? The question was forward and Zhevra took longer to type it on the computer.

Knirr’s ears flattened. “I am a female in the military, hazed and given unfair assignments, disrespected and verbally and physically propositioned on a monthly frequency. I aggravated my situation when I followed Dhueth’s example and refused the Equality Test in my first term in the navy. My XO was furious at the news. I remember running my tail off in the rain, through the mud with the base drill instructor relentlessly pushing me in the storm. My father was enraged and Voellzoen disgusted at both Dhueth and then me.” The gray female took a deep and sad breath before continuing. “Then I let slip, in front of the Dame, why I had not taken to the males and had a male-friend. You see, I-…. I like females instead.” Her tail drooped and her fields, to Zhevra, withdrew to a minimal. Those amber eyes raised from the floor to look at Zhevra. There was both a sadness but also a feeble tint of attraction for Zhevra.

Zhevra caught it though, all of it. But because she was from the Enclave Famuurueroergoghz, was raised in the close-knit Packs of the Suedzuk, where brothers and sisters bathed together, where one’s preferences were open-ended and allowed, liberal and accepted by all; Zhevra smiled back to the nervous gray female and her identifications. She beckoned Knirr over and onto the bed beside her. The slightly older female complied, sitting down her gray next to Zhevra’s red.

Knirr, Zhevra typed, let me explain who I am. The Suedzuk detailed her life in text form, her upbringing first and her education next. Zhevra played out a small autobiography as Knirr watched the text appear on the display. Brothers and sisters, cousins and those of similar age inside a Pack bathe, dress, sleep and learn their charisma and self-identity, all together in social groups so as to build loyalty to the Pack and each to help all excel in school and later in life. There is no shaming or envy of body in the Suedzuk. Males, females, whether they paired up however they preferred wasn’t even given thought. Now, the scientists did have to educate us about genetics and to avoid incest, but our Packs in the Suedzuk are close, like this: Zhevra crossed her index digit with her middle digit to show closeness. When the Suedzuk are hated and despised by Humaniti and fellow Vargr, for the infamous deeds of the Sack of Gashikan, one needs supporters, as many as possible to survive the Vargr Enclaves. The Wolf Hunt that the Second Empire of Gashikan held to exterminate our people pushed us to the edge of Charted Space.

“Wow,” said Knirr beside the red-furred female after she had read the text. “I wish we weren’t so stuck up and crystallized with our culture. Yours is much more free.”

But remember that we are hated for being born with reddish pelts, the so-called Red Pelts Corsairs on this side of the Vargr Extents only served to renew that hated reputation and character. I learned that Regency sent assassins and Vargr to slaughter the Red Pelts Corsairs to the last ‘dog’, as the report said. We are not free, no so long as we are continually feared and hated and spat upon for the Sack of Gashikan.

The two females laid on the bed and compared tales. Zhevra told, via her computer, her travels across the Vargr Splinters. Then she wrote about the attack on the Vadar, the liner on which she was a passenger. Thinking it akin to a pirate story, she embellished only a little the cruelty of the Corsairs as they slaughtered the crew and took over the ship. It held Knirr’s attention as she gasped at the part when Zhevra was taken prisoner and forced into slavery on the loot hauler under Captain Aeghllo.

“You were forced to become a concubine?” asked Knirr as the two females lay side by side on the wide, four-poster bed.

Zhevra was distracted by the nearby carving knife hidden in the canopy of the bed. She should return the blade to the kitchen and Rae. Then she nodded to Knirr’s question.

“Did they, y’know, make you-...?” asked Knirr who felt she could leave off the tail end of the question.

Zhevra took up the keyboard again and wrote, Though I was forced to the role, trained to be a whore and how to act attractive after being a naval Service Engineer, denied the status of a skilled worker slave; the scavengers took one look at my red coloration and made me don prostitute’s clothing, a crimson dress I still own, and sell myself in the slave market as a concubine. Too rare to be a skilled worker, I am guessing. Again being trapped as a Suedzuk marked me for hatred and abuse. But to answer your question, no. I never made it from the slave markets to the bed as a slave concubine, giving my body to clients for free other than gratuities or gifts under the table.

“So, you were still pure when you met Gevaudan, my cousin?” pried Knirr with a hushed voice.

Suedzuk don’t use words like ‘pure’ or ‘spoiled’ when speaking of physiology, intercourse or relationships. That sort of thinking isn’t in our culture.

“Oh. Sorry. That’s actually good then. I am glad Gevaudan was right for you. He had three previous who didn’t love him the way he loved them.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra thought to mention the letter from Genaveegh, but refrained from that topic. She wanted to let those who believed Gevaudan was dead expose themselves just as Voellzoen had when she eavesdropped earlier. She also decided to hold off, unless asked, on her own belief that her husband was alive. It might change things in ways Zhevra could not predict.

So, those scars? They aren’t battle scars, none of them? Zhevra pried in reverse at Knirr’s past.

“No, Zhevra,” said Knirr who seemed to want to avoid topics about her. “Except when I was assigned to my elder brother’s Unequal unit, females were not allowed front line duty. These scars,” Knirr paused to lift her shirt up to her shoulders and show Zhevra, “are from knotted switches my sire, Orgorr made me go cut for punishing me for cutting my hair like a male’s, for coming out in liking other females, for reporting hazing and the flirtations of the males in the service and lastly when I refused the Equality Test and chose the life of an Unequal like my brother Dhueth. Not because I was afraid to fail and lose my teeth and become Inequal, Zhevra. Most Unequals are protesting the mutilation of having a person’s canines, a cultural symbol of strength in the Society, ripped – sometimes without anesthetic for truly bad failures – from their mouths.”

Zhevra had heard before the punishment for failing the Equality Test. She had given it minimal thought at the time of her examinations, choosing instead to keep her eyes on the prize of passing. But this secret side of the Equality Test, of brutal mutilation and merciless disregard for the person failing was shockingly new to the Suedzuk.

“So,” continued Knirr turning to face the red-furred female, “In passive-aggressive protest, Unequals believe wholly by sacrificing their careers and living diminished lives, that there needs to be a change from this elitism in the Dzen Aeng Kho. Trouble is, there are far more Equals than Unequals out of fear of that lifestyle in the polity. So, we Unequals accept that burden.”

How is it you managed to stay in the military for this long after you refused the Equality Test?

“The very end of the term in which I, and in Dhueth’s time, declared our refusal,” explained Knirr, “that is when we were discharged. Until then, Unequals like me are ordered into dangerous theatres of conflict as cannon fodder. You see, Unequals in the service of the Society of Equals is a blight on the military traditions and honor of the services.”

“Elder brother Dhueth saw such in the Third Fleet Offensive. He told me the tale of the Equality War where he had just refused the Equality Test while a space fighter pilot. Our father, then only Captain Orgorr, furious with his son, ordered his wing to swarm a Thirz Empire ship. Dhueth in the lead flew to the enemy cruiser. But then he told me that he noticed his wing was not receiving covering fire from Orgorr’s ship. Looking back Dhueth saw that Orgorr had switched targets to send salvos against another ship, a smaller corvette. Dhueth’s wing was mostly Unequal pilots, loyal to their Lieutenant. Many of his wing pilots died because my father did not support his fighters. Today Dhueth knows of his father’s treachery and that had he received covering fire then, his wing could have disabled the Thirz cruiser. They don’t speak or stay in the same room for very long. And the rest of the Equality War is sad history. Unequals were blamed whenever the Admirals had to put forth excuses to the Council of worlds for loss of worlds. We took the brunt of their frustration while Equals were passed out Wound Medals like cubs given candy.”

“Dhueth, before me, was discharged for ‘insubordination and failure to interpret orders’ in the Third Fleet Offensive. I, in my time, was discharged for striking a superior officer. Never mind that I’d been stripped of clothes during an ‘inspection’ and groped profusely and intimately while subordinates stood by at attention.”

“Today, Dhueth and I serve as pilots of 4oodT patrol starships in the same Privateer company in and along the Edge between the Thirz Empire, backed by the Zhodani Humans in their distant Consulate, and our Society of Equals. My stomach turns whenever I say our polity’s name like that and not Dzen Aeng Kho.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra had heard enough for then, so she reached over and hugged the Unequal beside her. Then she made a request she later regretted. Returning to her keyboard, the red-furred female typed, I do not know what it is truly like being Unequal when I passed the Equality Test. Knirr, please, would you show me firsthand what it is to be Unequal?

Knirr’s eyes widened at reading the request. Then they grew distant and half-lidded. “Never before has an Equal asked this of me or cared to know. You are something new indeed, Zhevra Cannagrrh.”

Please?

Knirr looked deathly serious when she looked from the display to Zhevra. “Are you absolutely, positively sure you want to know? You’re already Suedzuk and have your own woes. This isn’t healthy, cousin-in-law, not at all.”

I can’t help a social issue unless I know empirically the damage I am doing to this culture just by passing a single, stupid test that is sundering the people of this polity.

Knirr began unbuckling her Unequal belt from her waist and her muzzle belt from her head, “But are you absolutely, positively sure about this?”

Yes.

Knirr, with her bobbed mane stood up and walked to the far end of the bedroom to the door. Zhevra felt through her Awareness a change in Knirr’s stance, demeanor, body language and her fields. “Put them on,” she ordered, her voice deepened. Then she turned the metal and electronic key in the lock of the door and then removed it from the lock. She kept her back turned to Zhevra and waited.

Zhevra got up to the side of the bed and looked at the Unequal belt and the muzzle belt. They lay where Knirr had left them after removing them from her waist and head. Nervous at Knirr’s fields, Zhevra obeyed the order. She slid the belt about her thin waist and tied it to leave the longer excess hanging down one inner thigh of her digitigrade stance. Then she slowly slid the muzzle over her nose, under her jaw and slid the buckle into place. It smelled like Knirr, like she had worn it a very long time even through washings. It was still warm when she fully donned the symbols of Unequality. Then she stood at the bedside and looked to Knirr.

Knirr took a deep, almost shuddering breath, then turned around slowly to look at the female in the belts before her. Her ears were flared backwards like barbs. Zhevra saw the gray female approach, imperious and fierce, her Lek heightened and her Mag hard. When she spoke next, the words hit Zhevra like a lightning bolt. “Unequal, female, Red Pelt, pirate and thief, spoiled patient and invalid nobody.” Knirr’s amber eyes flared and her teeth showed as she bore down on the shorter female Vargr. Her voice rose to almost a yelling volume. “Progressive sympathizer, black widow, throne usurper and homewrecker!” Knirr closed to such a short distance that Zhevra could feel the taller female’s breath in her face. “Don’t you eyeball your betters, coward who can’t bring herself to pass a simple Equality Test!”

Zhevra was about to open her mouth and say something when Knirr grabbed the Suedzuk by the muzzle belt and tightened the straps about her jaw and behind the base of her head. It closed her jaw painfully. As she did so, she belittled Zhevra with, “Lower your muzzle and eyes around me, bitch!” Then the gray female barking at her began to project her own plight upon the red and cream color female with, “Why are you still in the military, taking up expensive, tax-paid assets with your cowardice and shame? Quit! Quit and go find an easier career for cowards. You are nothing but a drain on the Society of Equals, Unequal! You’re worse than those Inequals who had the guts to take the Equality Test and failed. You didn’t even try, scum!” Zhevra felt her triggers flip and the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder evidenced when she began shaking. Chills ran up her spine. She wanted to fight or flee from Knirr’s onslaught but could not decide which to choose.

Zhevra began backing up one step at a time as Knirr pressed forward to her. Knirr backed her into an open corner of the bedroom yelling this time, “Filth! Get in the corner and stay there, whore. I can’t stand the sight of you and those belts you wear. Dogs wear muzzles. So, where’s your leash, animal? You are a stain on this family and this Pack, tramp!”

One of Zhevra’s toe claws caught on the carpet and it tripped her to fall to the floor in the corner. She could not open her mouth and even then, she would be speaking through her teeth unable to properly enunciate in Gvegh language. Trembling uncontrollably, she curled into a ball, becoming as small as she could. However, Knirr was merciless and kept descending upon Zhevra from above; her glare turned Zhevra’s nerves to ice, hatred flowing and mixed with disgust. The gray female grabbed Zhevra by the muzzle strap under her chin and forced her look at Knirr directly by pointing the red and cream face towards her. “You think you can just come into this house and poof! suddenly you’re the best thing since sliced steak, Unequal? Disgusting. I bet you killed Gevaudan, knowing full well you’d inherit, Unequal bitch. You killed him and dumped him outside the ship and staged your own evisceration. Admit it, Unequal coward!” The awful words of accusation stabbed Zhevra’s heart open.

Then Knirr released the straps and slapped Zhevra across her restrained muzzle and mouth with an open-handed claw. The blow stunned the Suedzuk female and she collapsed into a fetal position, crying and sobbing, shaking and frozen with chills. She was balled up and facing away from the towering gray and white female dressed in only undies and a sleep shirt. Everything Knirr said hurt the Suedzuk’s ears and pained her heart. Zhevra felt far more naked now. She felt stripped bare of clothes and any sense of charisma and identity other than the belts fastened too tightly about her head and waist; never registering the bra and undies she still wore.

Silence reigned despite Zhevra’s attempt to stay quiet from sobbing and shuddering violently. She wanted to disappear, to become invisible and steal away from hatred she recognized as similar to her own plight as a “red pelt”.

Knirr broke the silence with a calm, controlled hatred, “Remember Unequal: you chose this for yourself. Others are born into it and had no choice.” The towering female above Zhevra was referring to herself juxtaposed over Zhevra, omitting Zhevra as a Suedzuk. “All you have to do is take the damned Test, Unequal. Take it and give up on your convictions and be a hypocrite like the rest of us in the Society of Equals.”

Zhevra was in a fully-triggered seizure of shakes, chills, tremors and she almost lost control of her bladder. But then, after a nightmarish eternity, she felt Knirr’s gentle claws reach down and begin unbuckling the tight muzzle and pulling loose the belt from her abdomen. She felt Knirr’s fields retreat slowly away toward the bed, taking the horrid social restraints with her. Zhevra laid there for some time, fetal and alone in the corner, with Knirr watching from a perch on the side of the bed facing her corner.

No words were spoken as Zhevra rode the tempest of her PTSD seizure. She cried and sobbed, shuddered with each breath taken. Then she did so again, repeatedly over minutes of time. The corner echoed her misery back at her. No one touched her, came to her side to comfort or lift her from the floor. She recalled that the hospital staff had done just that for her after reading the letter from Genaveegh, Gevaudan’s third wife.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Minutes flew by as she slowly calmed her breathing. Tears still flowed. Zhevra’s sinuses were flooded with mucus. She had to breathe through her mouth. Her tail was limp behind her on the floor. Her claws clutched at the carpet. She wanted to cover her body with it if she could not fight or flee, concealing her shattered ego with the lowest of cloths tread upon daily. But eventually she regained herself. From this distance, she could feel Knirr watching her silently. No sound came from the bed.

Bringing herself up to a low, all-fours crawl, Zhevra Cannagrrh, heir to the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh crawled, a lowly thing, a nonperson, over between Knirr’s clawed feet. Tears blurred her vision as she risked to look up at the gray female seated above her. Through her tears, Zhevra saw that Knirr had replaced her Unequal belt about her waist under the sleep shirt and muzzle straps to her head. It almost broke Zhevra’s heart at seeing the horrid things buckled on her. The scars on the female’s back appeared in her mind. No battle scars, the Unequal above her carried badges of shame for her beliefs, beliefs she chose to uphold. Though similar, perhaps parallel, their individual pains and lives were different.

Knirr held out her opened claw, offering to help Zhevra off the floor. As her old self, Knirr lowered her muzzle submissively to the Equal below her. “What have you learned?” she asked as she helped Zhevra to stand and climb into the bed beside her.

Zhevra almost spoke, but wearily crawled over to the laptop computer that had been left on the bed. She sobbed again as she entered the Gvegh letters. Nothing.

Knirr looked at the display and said, “Now tell me why you learned nothing, Zhevra.”

The answer was dug up from somewhere between her experience as a hated Suedzuk and the hatred she had just experienced as a Vargr strapped in two accessories targeting her for such hate, trapped in the nightmarish limbo between fight or flight. Zhevra took some time to properly word her answer on the laptop computer. She wanted to be understood perfectly as Gvegh was not her first language.

I learned nothing because I knew that any moment, I could reach up and undo the muzzle and the belt. I could end the torment and hatred by stopping it. You cannot having chosen this path. While you can take the Test and betray yourself, your beliefs, your fellows who believe the same as you do; you chose this fate. You endure because you believe there is a better way out there somewhere, somehow.

Different but in the same light, I have no choice as a hated Suedzuk. Until the universe forgets the Sack of Gashikan, forgives the nuclear bombing of an entire planet so long ago, and lets the Red Pelts Corsairs fade into history, I am doomed to endure hatred and abuse wherever I go. In this, we both suffer in our own way.

Zhevra watched as Knirr read and reread the words on the screen. Then she turned square to Zhevra, hugged the smaller Suedzuk and then licked her where the straps had kept her muzzle almost closed. “You have passed the Unequality Test, Zhevra. You now know.” Zhevra returned the hug, the pads of her digits touching through the sleep shirt the furless scars on Knirr’s back. Internally, Zhevra vowed to herself that she would never neglect an Unequal, Inequal or a slave in the Society of Equals. Then she amended the vow to include all sophonts everywhere that suffered under the yoke of hatred and abuse.

Knirr then wordlessly surrendered the key to the door. Averting her gaze, she climbed under the covers and rolled away from Zhevra. Doubtless to Zhevra, Knirr would have removed the belts and muzzle restraint to sleep if Zhevra was not also in the bedroom. The realization sickened her and made her want to clear out and find somewhere else to sleep. She almost decided to do so, when she felt the grip of Knirr’s claw pads on her cream wrist.

“Don’t go.”

Zhevra climbed under the heavy covers and laid against the larger Gvegh female’s back and sleep shirt. Knirr was warm, possibly with the emotions she had to call forth from somewhere within.

It was a whisper, barely audible as the gray female still lay facing away from Zhevra, but she asked, “Do you miss him?” When no vocal answer was forthcoming, Knirr rolled over and looked at Zhevra.

Zhevra for the last time that night typed, My heart turned to ice the moment my head hit the deck and I blacked out. Only Gev has the power to thaw it.

Knirr read the last lines and nodded solemnly.

The two females slept through breakfast the next morning. Though the flavorful aromas woke them, they missed the meal entirely. Due perhaps to military regimen more recent than Zhevra’s, Knirr rose first and watched the Suedzuk as she too eventually roused. The night before must have drained both of them. Needing to use the bathroom badly, Zhevra leaned close, personally close, and looked into Knirr’s amber orbs with her emerald green eyes. She then licked upward across the taller female’s face, over both her facial fur and the straps that crossed her muzzle. “Orange,” she said. Thank you for the lesson, Knirr. Then she padded to the facilities to relieve herself.

Over Zhevra’s shoulder, she saw Knirr was fully awake and surprised. Her left claw pads rose to touch her face where she had been licked. As Zhevra closed the door, she saw a relaxed, joyful smile blossom from Knirr.

 

[The Pakkrat]

The Hunt was at the end of the week. Zhevra remembered that she had accepted Voellzoen’s invitation. The reminder note slipped under the door and was read by Knirr while just as Zhevra reentered the bedroom from taking her shower. The two soon fell into the routine of Knirr’s evening showers and her morning showers. Seeing Knirr bringing her the notice, the silent Suedzuk moved to her laptop and opened it.

“You hunt, Zhevra? That’s great.”

Voellzoen invited me while we shot at targets on the range.

“He’s an excellent marksman my older brother,” Knirr said as she offered Zhevra the notice.

Zhevra remembered that little fact. The eldest of the siblings was Unequal Dhueth. Then came Equal Voellzoen who probably despised his older brother and Knirr the youngest. The still-damp female then typed, Knirr, would you accompany me on the team? I understand that there will be at least two hunting teams.

“Me?” asked Knirr surprised and instantly joyful. “Of course! I accept, I mean.”

There won’t be any static discharge from your brother Voellzoen, will there?

“I would never tag along just to get in my Equal brother’s face and be a thorn in his side, not me,” declared Knirr who held her claws behind her back. Her sarcastic tone gave her away and her fields’ Mag was increased as was her Lek. “I’ll go squeeze off a few rounds at the range to dust off the rust on my weapon.”

Zhevra noticed that even though she was clear that Gevaudan was the only spouse for her, Knirr’s fields betrayed her attraction to the Suedzuk female. If anyone other than Zhevra could feel the gray female’s fields, she might jeopardize herself in becoming close to the next Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh, shuffling up next to power in the making.

Just be careful. And know that I am terrible at target shooting.

“Stick with me, whelp and you’ll be fine,” Knirr said jokingly.

The two then dressed and attended an impromptu brunch provided in the kitchen by Chef Raegksungkuen.

At week’s end, the Hunters gathered on the estate grounds just outside the south-facing front doors of Cannagrrh Villa. Before them was South Wood, a deciduous forest of thick trees with shady, almost opaque leaves. This was the same forest that provided the dark wood that made up various doors, furniture and other items on the estate.

Assembled were two teams of mostly male Cannagrrh, Housekeeper Vrrakh and some few estate slaves with ear-hoops in their left ears. The slaves were present, according to Knirr, to help with retrieval of downed urraenkaers as hunters would be too busy in keeping other herd carnivores from attacking.

One team, led by Captain Voellzoen, consisted of retiring Doctor Azvarrkoel, Sub-Lieutenant Knirr and Zhevra. The second team was led by Lieutenant Dhueth, Voellzoen’s elder brother, and featured the aging Admiral Orgorr, young sandy Gaenkarrg the future Emissary, Housekeeper Vrrakh the Marine, (one never says ‘ex-Marine’, Zhevra knew), and finally Doctor Adhllu was present mainly to provide medical aid to the Hunters and was not truly expected to fire a shot. With a physician on both teams and a mix of marksman hunters, young and first-timers, each team squared off in competition.

“Sure you’re up to this Dhueth?” challenged Voellzoen.

“It’s just meat on the table, Voellzoen,” Dhueth waved off his younger brother. “The satellites say they are coming through South Wood and we are not but to cull several of the urraenkaers for the larder.”

“Where’s the sport in that?” laughed Voellzoen.

Housekeeper Vrrakh, also the judge even if she was on one of the teams, stepped up and spoke the Hunt’s rules. “The team with the most kills at the end of the day sits at the head of the table in honor in the dining hall until the Summer Solstice Fete. Only a kill will be counted. Wounded that make off in the herd cannot be tallied. Safety is first for both teams. Team leaders will carry GPS beacons so as to not intrude on the hunting bawn of the opposing team. Heed your leaders so as to not be accidentally mistaken for an urraenkaer. Good hunting.” Then the ex-military female blew one of two horns of different pitches to begin the Hunt.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XIX. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
Like a nuclear Pack of four, Voellzoun’s team stalked through the underbrush in the east end of South Wood. They knew that the other team would pincer the herd toward them. The satellites surveillance provided evidence that the urraenkaer herd was travelling west to east. Having entered the South Wood as a herd, the beasts would be tracked by Lt. Dhueth’s team, coming up behind them. This gave them the advantage of first kills, but then the carnivore equines would then be frightened east where Voellzoun’s team could lie in wait and snipe as many as they could before the remaining herd turned south and out of the forest.

Each hunter was armed with a heavy hunting pistol with the same dark wood handles as the surrounding trees about them. The target weapons were not military grade, combat weapons, but hunting firearms meant for the urraenkaers. The handcarved wood stretched from the handle up the wrist and forearm to support the user. This was done so as to minimize the recoil of the ammunition.

As she was on her nemesis’ team, Zhevra watched him instead of the field. She did not care if their team won or lost. Her concern was the male who used cubs to provide a deadly accident for Zhevra to end her own life. But quick and calm thinking had allowed the Suedzuk an escape from the self-initiated deathtrap. Now, Zhevra felt like the jaws of a trap were set again and waiting for her next misstep. Was Voellzoun going to shoot Zhevra with the hunting pistol he carried?

The Suedzuk was close enough to feel Voellzoun’s reduced Mag and heightened Lek, a sign of a hunter’s attitude added to his stance, gait and body language. Zhevra watched as Voellzoun double-check the clip of bullets and slide it into the grip of his weapon and slide the automatic action to readiness. Then distant shots rang out to the west. The Hunt had begun.

“Positions!” hissed Capt. Voellzoun to his team. “Watch your targets, go for one-shot kills if you can manage. Remember, we only get marks for kills, not wounds. I want to see my brother’s muzzled face when I sit at the Dame’s spot at the dinner table for the next two weeks.” His face went feral, but Zhevra could feel a change in his fields, particularly in his Lek. It was diminishing.

Zhevra crept to a bush adjacent to a thick tree trunk. There she was treated to a surprise. Another Vargr field was in the immediate vicinity. Her team was supposed to spread out wide and fire in zones at the herding urraenkaers. She looked once at Sub-Lieutenant Knirr who had taken a prone position upon a jutting rock in the distance some thirty yards to her right. She was up higher than the supposed shoulders of these carnivorous equines with hooved legs. Not only would Knirr be able to stay safe from a stampede, but she owned a wide-angle view and a clear shot for the heads of the beasts.

Zhevra lowered herself in the bush and was surprised to find Faedoukhdaekuell, the stealthy middle cub who confessed to planting the bottle of bubble bath in Zhevra’s bathroom. Faed, or ‘Fade’ was surprised when Zhevra touched the crouching female on the tail, startling her. “Orange!” hissed Zhevra who almost gave away her ability to speak properly to the concealed female. In the distance, the Suedzuk could feel the approach of the urraenkaer herd.

“You have got to tell me how you find me, milady,” Faed in a whisper after she calmed from being startled.

“Orange?” demanded Zhevra.

“Something about Voellzoun has me following your team to the Hunt,” explained Faed as the herd became a thunder in the distant forest ground. It was accelerating. Shots fired again in the distance. Zhevra was sure that Lt. Dhueth’s team was racking up a body count in their chase. “At first Laor said that it was more than her idea about the bubble bath. I thought she meant her triplet sisters. But her sire, Voellzoun was particularly hard on her for not getting higher marks on her final report card. He called her a brainless puff-spine fish and put her to work in the kitchens with Rae for a week.”

“Orange.” Quiet! The herd was almost upon the waiting team’s fields of fire and Zhevra had not yet chosen a place in which to cover her killing field. She pointed to Faed and then up the tree, adding a climbing motion. “Orange!” Climb!

Faed scrambled up the trunk and quickly clawed and brachiated out of the reach of the huge urraenkaers.

From behind the tree trunk, Zhevra saw the first wave of stampeding equines both fleeing from the western hunters and seeking their own sustenance in the South Wood. Their massive bodies must have needed a tremendous diet of prey to maintain such a muscular skeleton. They were four-legged, hooves pounding the ground and bushes beneath their charge. All were slick black with very short fur. Long heads featured eyes that could see in a wide angle because their pupils were horizontal slits. At the end of their heads was a mouth of snatching sharp teeth. Those that brayed their mouths open in calls showed rows of slicing teeth in the rear of their maws. Their main attack was trampling or strikes with hooves. Zhevra had studied the creatures at Knirr’s insistence. But this was a full-tilt stampede. The herd meant to kill anything in waves of trampling and then come back to feed on their crushed victims.

Voellzoen opened fire first. His shots were considered, spaced and felled three of his first clip of seven rounds. Knirr took the cue and fired her first magazine, emptying her weapon. Three more beasts fell to killing accuracy. Dr. Azvarrkoel felled only two with his weapon still further left of Zhevra than Voellzoen. He had wisely climbed a tree and was taking his best aim for a physician and not a hunter.

Zhevra felt the stampeding urraenkaers more than she saw them. They had fields of bioelectricity being alive and not inanimate targets. Now that Faed was up in the tree above her and safe, the Suedzuk opened fire with her hunting weapon. Six of the hungry equines fell because Zhevra could feel the concentrated location source of that bioelectric field on each beast. Her shots were hard on her wrist but each of the six rounds felled a beast to her amazement. She took a second to look down at her weapon. There did not seem to be anything special about it. Was it just her?

The first wave of urraenkaers passed the eastern team’s position. However rather than continue onward to the east, they split and turned north and south into two groups, circling around. Zhevra had spent too long examining them when the next wave of black ungulates appeared and charged. Voellzoun had just reloaded and firing again. Knirr too.

“Orange,” Zhevra cursed, she had not reloaded her hunting pistol. It still had a round left.

Then Voellzoen yelled and fired at the same time. Was he trying to split his field of fire? Some of his target creatures were diverting into her zone adding to the ones already her responsibility. Did he see how many she brought down and wanted to add fuel to the firezone? Two more of the urraenkaers dropped to the ground and kicked up a fury of dust and leaves as they writhed in death throes. “Watch yourself, Zhevra!” he called and began reloading.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Knirr was unloading her weapon with glee at the second wave, Zhevra saw. But Zhevra’s field was full of the charging monsters. There were too many! One spotted her hiding behind the tree trunk’s base and stopped to rear up and high in order to lash out with its forehooves. Saliva spat from the braying equine. One hit would be all it took to cave in the Suedzuk’s rib cage, ending her.

Voellzoen fired at the rearing urraenkaer but missed on all his shots. He had no more time to cover Zhevra as the third wave was coming. The hooves came down, aimed at Zhevra’s light frame. In a reaction totally instinctive and unlike a thinking Zhevra, she rolled forward, not back and away from the descending hooves. She felt where the last bullet in her gun had to go rather than saw. But dust and leaves were coating her reddish fur, slowly numbing her Awareness. The hooves left small, dusty craters where her body had been. The twin thunder of the hoof strikes was easy enough to feel with her sense of touch. Her shot went up, between the front legs, up the line of the neck to bury itself between the jawbones of the equine and destroy the brain of the black urraenkaer. However, the instant death of the monster brought its weight down in collapse upon Zhevra. The impact and the weight of the dead creature knocked the breath out of the small Vargr female trapped under the carcass. With her air knocked out of her, everything went red with tunnel vision before she was out of the fight and into darkness. In her descent, she heard the panicked scream of Faedoukhdaekuell, “Zhevra!”

The midday suns were filtered by many layers of shading green leaves. Wind blew on them to a hypnotic sway. A shadow of a Vargr was shaking her, patting the side of her muzzle in a futile attempt to get Zhevra’s attention. Then she realized she was on her back. Two other Vargr were hefting and grunting. The mumble of distant voices became clearer, “Check her pulse dammit! Is she breathing?”

Just let me sleep a little longer. It’s warm out here. It was that carefree voice from inside her mirror reflection. It was after all a lazy summer day and the smells of the forest were relaxing.

“No, no, no, no, lass!” yelled the male in coming into her range focus. A light shone in her eyes. “Give me the pen! Now!” There was a click sound and Zhevra felt a sting in her chest, right through her left primary breast. Oww!

Then the albuterol and insulin to stop hyperkalemia, a dump of too much potassium into her blood, that went directly into her heart lit her innards on fire but kept her heart from fibrillation in the seconds it took to onset the potassium contamination from her cells and tissues. Her breaths came in hyperventilating cycles. She screamed as her eyes opened wide and her body adrenalized. “ooooOOORANNNGE!” was the first thing she thought and came from her mouth, not because she was vocabulary-locked, but her husband’s HEV was that color. Her teeth grit as her jaw locked up a scream inside cage of her mouth. Zhevra’s tail thrashed like a broom gone mad.

“Villa, this is Voellzoun,” said the Equal male. “Med-evac on my location. A urraenkaer fell on Zhevra Cannagrrh. Prep the infirmary. Yes, Dr. Azvarrkoel is with us.”

* * *

Zhevra ran an open claw over her torso breasts under her prison blues, “Llotree’s medical discipline was much better than those on Dzuerongvoe, but I survived and the interstellar technology of the Cannagrrh homeworld let me feel the sting of broken ribs, sore abdominals and the dangers of pseudohyperkalemia. In lifting the heavy beast off me, my body’s potassium nearly killed me right there. I was rushed to the estate infirmary in the grav-van and spent the rest of the week on fluids, a session with a hemodialysis machine, tight bandages that amazingly did not tear off my fur when removed and everyone, including that dam-less cur Voellzoun came to visit me. He was visiting me with the triplets, so I couldn’t call him out. You see Faed had seen me first and told me what he had done.”

Allain Templeton looked up from his shorthand notetaking. A question appeared on his face but he checked his voice, much like Zhevra had done to keep from speaking back then.

Zhevra smiled at him, “Tomorrow. Goodnight Gentlemen.”

The next morning, Zhevra was still exercising when the advocate and the Psion returned. Push-ups and crunches followed stretches and jogging in place for counts to three hundred. The jangling of her chains in the cell only pushed her to keep exercising. The two males stood in the door to wait for the guards to come and let them in.

“The Sixth Horizon was searched,” admitted Allain to Zhevra.

“So?” asked Zhevra.

“The Engineers assigned to the search found that the cargo bay had been modified to allow for a backup, vectored thrust drive. Know anything about it? Also, the Imperium officer’s cutlass, the one you described before, the one stored in the ship’s locker?”

“What of it?” asked Zhevra who now stood up from the last of the crunches.

“It is missing and does not appear on any of the listed items when the vessel was searched,” declared Allain who flipped through several pages in his thick, hardcopy file. “Did you remove it from the ship before coming to the Regency and to Regina?”

Anger swelled within Zhevra and she moved toward the closed cell door, to the limit of her taut chain tether, “I did not. Consider it stolen. It was on the ship when I last looked which was not long ago, before one of his kind mind-clocked me out.” Zhevra pointed her restrained claw at Kzaeng who quietly adjusted his robe. Yet she could see the wrinkle appear in the fur dyed blue between his eyes on his forehead. “As to the backup drive, I’ll tell you about it when it comes along in my story. Patience.”

Once the routine protocol to allow the Human and the Aekhu ingress to sit down for breakfast was done, Zhevra ate in silence. Who had stolen Captain Jacob Crow’s cutlass? Gevaudan has said it was a gift from his Human friend, Crow long ago. Its blade was laser etched with Crow’s name, service number and maker’s serial number. To remove the etching might damage the weapon irreparably without re-forging from scratch.

Seeing that Khzaeng the Psion was watching her before Allain had switched on the recorder, she narrowed her eyes at him. Get out of my mind until he continues the interview, Aekhu pet! There was no way to be sure that he was probing her thoughts, but it made her feel better to challenge the telepath even if she was defenseless from mental intrusion.

“Faed,” continued Zhevra’s tale, “told me alone after pleading with Sub-Lieutenant Knirr to be allowed to visit me alone. When Knirr stepped out, the female cub told me that from her vantage above all the hunters, she saw Captain Voellzoen switch his magazine for another, different type of ammunition. To keep her safe, I asked her to learn from Lieutenant Dhueth, Voellzoen’s older brother, what kind of ammunition might be used in the hunting pistols and to do so discreetly. Like a good apprentice, Intelligence Agent, she obeyed. But she took too long to get back to me with the answers. I was discharged from the infirmary once recovered thanks to Doctors Azvarrkoel and Adhllu’s arts. I was back on my feet in time for the Summer Solstice Fete.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

* * *

Preparations for the sunset Summer Solstice Fete continued all morning, noon and afternoon as everything was made ready. The Dame had sent out invitations as had the adult members of Pack Cannagrrh. The entire Villa was decorated with the grand ballroom polished to a reflective shine, the central gathering point with both indoor and outdoor seating and standing. Surrounding the balcony veranda about the grand ballroom were refilled vases of red roses with vicious, long thorns. The sigil of the Cannagrrh Mansche, the nebulous galaxy wherever it was to be found on the estate was cleaned, polished and positioned just so. Music, live and on file, was made available. The heavy purple drapes were dry cleaned and then re-hung. Seating on the balcony overlooking the indoor ballroom was placed to allow the Dame to open the Fete from above. Extra heraldry banners were unfurled and hung about the Villa both inside the keep and externally on its walls. The ornate chandelier central and above the dance floor shone with a brilliance from cleaning and polishing. Staff and slaves were everywhere, busy with the preparations and tables to receive catered foods from the kitchens. No guest was to leave the Villa hungry that sunset, the Dame was verbose about that condition.

As a Fete, the goal was to host an annual fundraising event. The blood-red Cannagrrh vintage of year 1170 was brought forth in small kegs from the winery adjacent to the keep. With only a modest supply, each year’s product was offered only at the Fete, each glass for a nominal fee as part of the fundraising to maintain the winery, cooping of the dark wood barrels of South Wood, and aging the vintage to a blood-red color in wine cellars below the vining structure. Then, if there was a surplus near the end of the Fete, remaining wine was bottled and sold off in silent auctions to the invited attendees.

Also on tap was the lager from the fields of barley and hops also brewed on the estate grounds. If an attendee did not favor wine or could not afford to purchase a glass for tasting or bid on a bottle, the lager was the next best alcoholic refreshment. Both versions of libations faced each other from opposing ends of the large hall just before the arches leading into the brightly-lit grand ballroom. Tasters were greeted by kitchen drink bearers and tray waiters, mostly slaves wearing kitchen uniforms and their ear-hoops riding left ears. If any of the lager was left after the Fete was concluded, the remainder drink was gifted to them to enjoy either as they cleaned up the festival or to take back to their quarters and down amongst each other freely.

The Summer Solstice Fete was also the event for the presentation of debutantes, this year being the coming out of the dark-furred triplet daughters of Captain Voellzoen. The three, though triplets kept a secret between them that even the Dame could not pry. Were they up to something? Zhevra, who had grown up without siblings in her nuclear family, envied their triplet cohesion in the face of the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh.

Dresses and dry cleaned suits arrived at the Villa. It was a custom among the families of Pack Cannagrrh to hide their chosen regalia and ensembles from each other. The idea was to surprise each other upon entering the large hall, take up a glass of wine and proceed into the grand ballroom and welcome the invitees. Though an adult might hint, elude to or describe their chosen outfit, all were to avoid showing each other their annual apparel.
Zhevra knew what she wanted to wear. There was no question that she desired to wear the yellow and black tabard hip dress that revealed her shoulders, midriff and pelvic girdle on the sides, covering her front and allowing her tail to flare out through a hole in the hip dress and again through the yellow tabard. She would have to don the garments and then quickly brush out her tail to a bushy sheen. She guessed that though it was an evening dress, that it would not out-shine the Dame or any of the other females attending. And that was how she wanted it. This was a night for the hostess and the debutantes and Zhevra left it to them. To her, wearing the ensemble Gevaudan had gifted her seemed appropriate – no, imperative – to pay honor to her husband. To everyone, she was a widow. By wearing the tabard hip dress, the Suedzuk meant to say through it that she was not taking suitors. She never would, she decided. She had typed her message to curious Knirr concerning Zhevra’s heart. Only Gev has the power to thaw it. Though she could feel Knirr’s slight dejection that first night in the bedroom, Knirr had respected the female’s loyalty to Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Thus, the red and cream Vargr female returned the cleaned evening dress to its hiding place in the armoire.

Across the bedroom, Sub-Lieutenant Knirr was too busy at a dresser cluttered with cosmetics, uniform accessories and decorations. Though Zhevra could not see what the gray female intended to wear, she had clues right in front of her on the dresser. Knirr spotted Zhevra watching her. The larger, gray female pushed a drawer closed quickly.

“Oh, no you don’t, little Suedzuk,” accused Knirr. “I haven’t peeked at your choice of what to wear. Respect my privacy too, Zhevra.”

Zhevra smiled guiltily, but then nodded and regretted her deceptive, “Orange.” I won’t look.

“We’ll have to dress at different times and then meet in the hall before the Fete,” said Knirr. “Why don’t I go first as I believe I can be ready well before you and yours, okay?”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Again, Zhevra acceded with an agreeing nod. Then she padded to the bathroom for her shower, her tail betraying anticipation of the evening’s gather with waving wags. She felt Knirr’s fields before the gray female followed Zhevra. Despite Knirr’s preference for females, Zhevra was not pressured by the gray female. Her Suedzuk culture and upbringing would not allow her to feel such. And she knew the Sub-Lieutenant peeked at her occasionally in the shower by her reflection off the wide mirror. Zhevra had long been familiar with Suedzuk Pack members sharing facilities and being visible to each other in and out of bathing or showers. In the glass enclosure of the streaming shower, the wet female scrubbed clean fully aware she was watched intermittently. Saturated with water, she gave Knirr the privacy of her fields as the Suedzuk Awareness was dampened, the sense going quiet. Zhevra turned the tables as she dried and brushed out her drying pelt and stole glimpses of the gray female’s turn in the shower.

It was sobering to watch Knirr and Zhevra soon regretted the tit-for-tat in the bathroom. She beheld Knirr hang the Unequal belt and muzzle on the wall pegs next to her hanging towel. The scarred back flesh reflected in the mirror. Zhevra brushed her form and pretended not to notice the pink and hairless stripes of past beatings with twig switches. Had Knirr the same Awareness, what would Zhevra’s fields betray to the Unequal? Dolt! Don’t think of her as an Unequal ever again! The wilder side of Zhevra, reflected in the mirror at the real Suedzuk, the Zhevra who harbored a small tinge of sisterly camaraderie - attraction even - at the larger female, chastised at the elitist term.

Knirr finished her shower. Since Zhevra was still detangling knots in her tail fur, the damp gray female pawed first at her belt and muzzle. The grasp attempts only knocked them and the towel to the floor. Zhevra saw the reluctant female in the fogged shower deciding if the towel or the hated belt and straps were to be retrieved first. The Suedzuk stopped brushing and considered the predicament. Should the Unequal emerge from the shower with her social restraints on first and then nab the towel to dry herself? Or should Knirr towel off first and then buckle on her head harness and waist belt? All three on the floor were almost out of reach from her clumsy attempt to clutch them. According to Knirr, she could not be in the same room with an Equal without her things on. Zhevra suddenly hated the laws that were laid down. Should she just up and leave the bathroom and yield it to Knirr? A second on the clock ticked. Then the red and cream female decided to think differently about the stupid symbols.

Sub-Lieutenant Knirr Cannagrrh had believed in her decision to refuse the Equality Test, condemning herself to Unequality. Her muzzle straps and belt were not only the polity’s punishment for the choice Knirr made, but in a quirk of passive-aggressiveness, the tables could be turned if only by the few in minority. An Unequal could purposely decide that the items he or she wore were symbols of protest against the cruelty inflicted upon those who failed the Test, the toothless Inequal, in addition to the sundering stratification and hypocrisy of the Society. The realization of how an Unequal could socially stick it to the Equals, to all who could see the belt and head harness; it made Zhevra drop from her seated position on the counter before the mirror.

In seconds, Zhevra had the Unequal belt, the muzzle and the big towel in one claw and off the floor. With her free claw, she opened the shower door and intruded slowly on a stunned silent Knirr. The wide amber eyes, nervously-flattened ears and open-mouthed expression on her face said what her dampened fields could not say to Zhevra. Then, with both claws, Zhevra presented the towel underneath the hated symbols bringing low those who held higher beliefs and were willing to suffer for them even in the faces of the Equals. Knirr was still motionless and dripping wet. Before the gray female could react or take the items, Zhevra stooped to one knee in a digitigrade crouch in the shower. Kneeling before the Unequal, the Equal held out the items that were in fact the very protesting tools used to punish Equals who were hypocritically upholding the most stupid laws of a polity Zhevra had ever encountered. And at Knirr’s feet, the smaller Suedzuk acknowledged the horrible sacrifice, the humiliating items worn to someday force that same realization upon the Equals of the Dzen Aeng Kho. Now, to her emerald eyes at least, Zhevra could find new respect and even revere Knirr Cannagrrh, her eldest brother Dhueth Cannagrrh and absent Kaer Cannagrrh whom she had never met. She could respect and revere all who donned the abusive items for their beliefs.

“Orange,” said Zhevra reverently, again speaking in favor of the unnecessary color now that Uthka Varzeekh, another Unequal to whom she owed so much, had forced the Suedzuk female to unlock her speech impediment. She held up the symbols of Unequality like they were the garments of royalty to Knirr. Here, Knirr.