Zhevra's Dance Novel

[The Pakkrat]

It was Knirr who was now shaking and tearing up in the shower. Her tail went limp behind her. Whether she was wet and cold or touched by the gesture, she nodded a polite bow to Zhevra below her. Then the gray, nude female took up her items and buckled them on herself before the nude red and white female. “Thank you, Zhevra,” she said softly and gently.
Zhevra backed out of the shower upon coming up to stand. She kept her muzzle lowered, her ears flattened submissively but her eyes remained locked on Knirr’s amber orbs. They would see each other eye-to-eye forever, Zhevra decided.

Knirr emerged from the shower slowly, following the red and cream colored female. Nude – not naked – the Gvegh Vargr held out her arms to the Suedzuk Vargr and softly whispered, “Friends?”

Nodding and smiling ecstatically, Zhevra fell into the other female’s arms. The two embraced for a long time as Zhevra continued nodding her face into the other’s white, ventral chest fur. They were friends. This was the first true friend Zhevra had, aside from her beloved husband Gevaudan, since coming to the Spinward end of the Vargr Splinters.

Arksouel the Urzaeng concubine and Dhaeos the Logaksu concubine had been nice to her, good acquaintances even, as fellow slaves. But nothing she felt from those two could compare to the friendship Zhevra desperately needed now. And she felt Knirr wanted a true friend as well if she could not have Zhevra in a closer relationship. The two forged a bond that day, one that Zhevra would never betray.

“Let’s show those other Equals how us females can clean up!” challenged Knirr Cannagrrh to her cousin-in-law Zhevra Cannagrrh.

As her gray and white-socks pelt was trimmed shorter, like a male’s mane and fur, Knirr used a blow dryer to finish drying off with a brush to tease her military cut into a pert pixie flare. Then she winked at Zhevra, “I’ll be out of the bedroom before you can get the rest of those tangles out, ‘luv’.” She said that last luv with the same mimicked accent as the kitchen chef, Raegksungkuen. With Knirr’s pelt dry as Zhevra’s, the Suedzuk could feel the gray female’s fields moving back and forth before the dresser on the opposite side of the same wall to the bathroom. Drawers opened and shut; clothes were pulled on. In just minutes, Zhevra heard the bedroom door open, “Later!” and close.

Knirr was right. Zhevra still had one last tangle to deal with: Voellzoen.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XX. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
“Zhevra Cannagrrh, Suedzuk, mate-wife to Gevaudan Cannagrrh, heir to Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh!” announced Housekeeper Vrrakh with a booming female Gvegh voice spotting Zhevra who stepped into the large hall where other Cannagrrh mingled and selected their wine flute glasses.

Carefully and with a pretend dignity, Zhevra Cannagrrh entered the hall. She was again dressed in the yellow and black tabard and hip dress. A gold-colored female’s cincher hugged her midriff under her secondary breasts. Yellow arm sleeves, not connected to the narrow yellow tabard, were encircled by small leather straps buckled to her upper arms and wrists, the excess half concealing her sharpened black claws. About her neck was the silver-studded and buckled, medium lavender-colored leather collar that sported the swinging gold heart pendant on its D-ring. It did not match anything else on Zhevra’s ensemble, but she had not cared when she had buckled it around her neck and under her reddish mane. It honored her husband. Lastly, a pair of gold ear cuffs encircled her red and cream ears at their bases. Between the two ear cuffs dangled a V-shaped chain of silver and gold beads which framed the back of her head’s mane, coming together as one to support an octahedral spindle of ocean blue crystal topaz. It swayed behind her back as she stepped further into the area. Her tail through the black dress and the yellow tabard swished immaculately and slowly behind her trying to ground out her nervousness at the sudden attentions of all those present.

There were more Vargr, Pack and invited attendees, than Zhevra could count in the large hall adjacent to the grand ballroom. Music played distantly beyond the arches on either side of the grand staircase to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. Conversing voices stopped and all eyes were on her.

Not all the Vargr looking at her displayed expressions of appreciation of her and her ensemble. Some were unhappy at the Housekeeper, the Marine Vrrakh and the title she announced on Zhevra’s entry. Those that beamed with pride at the smaller Suedzuk began clapping their claws at the sight of her. Knirr Cannagrrh was not present as far as Zhevra could tell.

Pressed dress uniforms of Navy, Army, Homeguard and Marines stood smartly aside elaborate dresses of various colors and patterns.

“Triplets Anglla, Laor and Nurki Cannagrrh, debutantes of the hour!” called out Vrrakh who was arrayed in a Marines dress uniform with service and wound medals and armed with a saber at her side. As a female and Equal in the Dzen Aeng Kho military though retired, her lower half was belled by a pressed and pleated skirt that reached from her belt down to just below her digitigrade knees.

All eyes relieved Zhevra of their encumbering stares to turn upwards to the grand staircase where the triplets descended from the second floor above all gathered. Zhevra moved to a side table, the one holding readied flutes of the blood-red wine and beheld the three, dark-furred females. High above them like a sentinel stood Capt. Voellzoen, the sire of the three debutantes. With a fire of pride, he gestured for the crowd to behold his daughters.

The triplets were dressed in identical dresses! So, this was their secret, guessed Zhevra. In their identical cohesion, Anglla stepped down first, along the left rail, followed by Laor in the middle and a pace behind. Nurki descended after Laor, along the right rail of the grand staircase. The three were heralded by applause from below them. In a slight diagonal, the females stepped lightly and dignified downward toward the welcoming groups. They were dressed in white evening gowns to contrast against their identical, dark-furred pelts. The gowns had a checkered black and white diamond pattern that continued a domino effect of sharp angles and concealed think pleating around the draping dress to their ankles. Cosmetic glitter framed each female’s blue eyes. Silver bangle bracelets with tinkling bells reported with each step. As they reached the carpet over the granite floor, Zhevra saw that each triplet’s tail poked from holes in the dresses and was ringed at the base with a wide silver band held in place by their bushy fur. The bands sported a single oval ruby in the same manner as Dame Qithka’s head jewel. Zhevra fantasized that the bands supported something under those dresses to keep the lusty males with lolling tongues from doing something stupid tonight. Fleeting, the thought was whisked away by the fierce glare of Voellzoen whose eyes fell upon Zhevra Cannagrrh.

Voellzoen’s blue eyes blazed from on high. He was dressed in the decorated navy blue dress uniform of the Dzen Aeng Kho Interstellar Navy. A cape was clasped about his shoulders and hung to the floor, framing the Captain. Dress gloves covered his claws. Black, digitigrade leather boots were polished, inky mirrors. He began to descend with dignity and pride as the triplets were greeted, welcomed and wisely kept from the tables of wine flutes. But Voellzoen’s targeting attention remained on Zhevra Cannagrrh as he continued slowly down the stairs.

“Captain Voellzoen Cannagrrh of the Interstellar Navy, sire to the Triplet Debutantes!” announced Housekeeper Vrrakh who saluted to a superior officer and then returned to her vigil. More applause was heard. Zhevra clapped her claws merely to join the crowd and hopefully remove Voellzoen’s hateful gaze.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“The Blooded Fang Herself, the Dame Qithka Cannagrrh, Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh!” announced Vrrakh and all present bowed as the hostess appeared at the top of the stairs and from around a corner of the second floor. And still Zhevra could see no sign of Knirr Cannagrrh.

The Dame was brilliantly illuminated. Even at her age, Zhevra thought the Alpha was dressed divinely in the flowing white gown with bared upper arms accented with flared shoulders. Her elbows and claws were completely covered by the long white sleeves. A sash belt of orich, the metallic golden-orange, was tied about her waist. The gown’s front plunged to let her chest ruff of white fur spill over it while still concealing her primary and secondary breasts. Her tail was brushed to a reflective sheen. As she regarded those below her with dignified authority, Zhevra could see her signature jewelry. The bracelet dangled a blue octahedral spindle polished and glinting. Qithka’s ear cuffs suspended the oval ruby in a gold pendant on her forehead like a burning third eye. The Suedzuk could hear the jingle of a belled anklet as the Dame took a step while still at the top of the stairs. Finally, Zhevra guessed correctly that the silver bracer with a matching oval ruby glinted from Qithka’s opposing forearm as she gestured forward to the crowd.

“Welcome, all!” announced the Dame with an announcer’s volume. “Welcome to the 112th Cannagrrh Pack Summer Solstice Fete. We greet three new adults, triplets they, to join us in the festivities. Anglla Cannagrrh, Laor Cannagrrh and Nurki Cannagrrh are here tonight to debut at this ball and dance. Let the Fete commence!”

Applause and movement began as adults took up flutes of blood-red wine and entered the grand ballroom through arches to either side of the stairs and under the balcony overlooking the dance floor. All turned as one and began filing to the rear of the keep. Thus, all backs were turned, except Zhevra’s who was still waiting to find Knirr Cannagrh, at the entry of the Unequals, unannounced and seemingly forgotten or ignored.

Lieutenant Dhueth Cannagrrh, the gruff gray male with a poking lower canine tooth stepped through the massive front doors of the keep. He was dressed in a decorated officer’s dress uniform and polished black boots. A black cape was cocked to one shoulder and a saber rode his hip at the belt. He greeted Housekeeper Vrrakh as he ran an index digit claw of his opposite extremity under the side strap of his Unequal’s muzzle in gray, polished leather. His stance was rigidly confident and he kept his muzzle barely perceptively pointed downward. He entered first of his party and spotting Zhevra, he nodded a bow to her. Dhueth’s tail was deathly still, daring anyone to challenge his presence at the Solstice Fete. He produced his invitation to Vrrakh and wordlessly continued.

Behind Dhueth came Uthka Varzeekh. Zhevra could hear the pinging sound of her dark wood cane, the one with a serpent slithering up its shaft to the handle. She was in a very clean and very purple robe with gold embroidered edges. Pulling back her hood, the Seer, (for that is what Zhevra now thought of her and her Droyne Coyns) revealed with her raised arms the same handbag decorated with copper coins. Saying something lost to the din of the starting Fete to Dhueth and receiving a nod from him, she began passing the Lieutenant. Zhevra saw as Uthka approached, that the gray female had orich sashes tied about her waist outside her purple robe and over her muzzle, about her head and trailing down her back over her shoulders; the symbols of Unequality in brilliant golden-orange. The crone winked at Zhevra as she passed and indicated with the same that the Suedzuk turn her attentions again to the front doors.

She stood in the open doorway, Sub-Lieutenant Knirr Cannagrrh. Her navy blue officer’s dress uniform was pressed and velvety. A black cape similar to Dhueth’s was also similarly draped to one shoulder on the Sub-Lieutenant. She had no service medals, but her rank was evident on her shoulder as was the emblem teeth and blood-red circle of the Society of Equals on her upper sleeves. Knirr wore the female’s pressed and pleated military skirt that threatened to uncover her knees. As an officer, she like Dhueth, wore a saber on her hip. From that crisp skirt, her gray and white tail swished side to side like a slow-motion whip of fur. Her buttons of brass gleamed. And then Zhevra gasped at what she was sure Knirr was hiding in the drawer in the bedroom earlier.

Of a similar and bright yellow as Zhevra’s tabard and sleeves, Knirr Cannagrrh’s new, Unequal muzzle with silver rings and buckle glinted in the light of the large hall. About her waist and through navy blue belt loops was threaded a new, polished black leather belt with a brass chevron arrow tip. It gleamed from polishing just as her black leather boots shone. Her social restraints matched Zhevra’s ensemble! Had she looked? She must have! Knirr stepped forward, her boots clanking with brass sole plates on the granite floor. The Sub-Lieutenant brought her folded arms from behind the small of her back out front to tighten the white dress gloves on her claws. Doing so, her amber eyes caught sight of Zhevra and she smiled at the Suedzuk.

Zhevra’s heart fluttered and her breathing quickened. Knirr had the same pixie cut flare and in that uniform, she might as well have been a Fleet Admiral. The gray female followed Lt. Dhueth to pick up their flutes of blood-red wine. Knirr invited Zhevra with her glass but then continued to the archway on the opposite side as Zhevra in the hall.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Momentarily alone, Zhevra said long and drawn out, “Orange.” Gevaudan, you should be here.
Taking her wine flute in both hands, the Suedzuk in yellow and black took the left side archway into the grand ballroom. Light from the central chandelier was both brilliant white, but also splintered by its crystal prisms into rainbow slivers that dazzled the eyes. Attendees were mingling and conversing in smaller groups distributed across the dance floor. To Zhevra’s immediate right, a tall and wide banner of Pack Cannagrrh hung between the two archways and from the balcony bannister. The late double-star sunset was turning the evening sky into rose and orange. Already the eastern sky on the horizon offered the rising full moon of Dzuerongvoe. Additionally, by no one’s design, the planetary government had issued a ‘supermoon’ event. The satellite of the mainworld was going to be the biggest moon in more than six years. Zhevra expected that many would be standing outside later that night on the surrounding veranda balcony where more small tables and chairs had been decorated and made available.

Zhevra watched intently as Cannagrrh and invitees swished and examined their flutes of wine. Sniffing their noses above the glass openings, the Vargr nodded their heads, the talk a sea of voices too many to place. Taking their cue, Zhevra followed suit, pretending to know proper wine tasting. Before she could imitate the first drink, other party-goers were moving towards the kegs tables to place silent auction bids. The blood-red wine was fragrant and sweet from the sweltering summer of its year, a bumper crop. Zhevra could not judge such a wine, or any vintage for lack of experience in trained alcoholic consumption. Gevaudan had offered to make such available on their restaurant dates, but Zhevra had refused. Once married to the white Vargr, her Captain, former master, and unconditional love; who needed liquor to lubricate the night?

Humorously, Zhevra watched as Housekeeper Vrrakh and Chef Raegksungkuen blocked the dark-furred triplets from sampling the lager or the wine. They were still underage for drinking spirits but old enough to be courted on their debutante ball it seemed. The females dejected turned in a huff to find dance partners for a song that was more their generation in style.

Above the grand ballroom, Zhevra could see that Dame Qithka Cannagrrh had moved atop the balcony from the grand stairs in the large hall so she could oversee and wave down to attendees in the ballroom. Someone tossed up a thorny rose, perhaps pilfered from the vases on the veranda’s stone railing. The elderly Alpha snatched it out of the air at its apex and clamped her canine muzzle over the stem, heedless if the thorns might pierce her mouth or tongue. The rose stayed in her mouth for a minute, its bloom dangling to her left. Then, when the moment was spent to the flash of photographic capture devices, comms with cameras, and the invited journalists from Kfan Uzangou, her former magazine, the Dame then opened her mouth and extracted the thorny stem. Zhevra thought she could see red blood on the Alpha’s teeth. “Blooded Fang” was indeed her title, a Dame in other languages. Zhevra decided that she could not bring herself to clamp down on a stem of such wicked thorns and keep a straight face as Qithka Cannagrrh had. The entire tableau was a display of passion, power, control, discipline, grace and daring. Other words where whispered about Zhevra, such as erotic, teasing, flirting and masochistic in the challenge of the action.

From behind her came the gruff voice of Lieutenant Dhueth. “I put in a song request to the musicians, milady Zhevra Cannagrrh.” The Suedzuk turned to see the eldest issue of old Admiral Orgorr bowing politely yet firmly formal to her. “Would you…. care to dance with me, wife of my favorite cousin, Gevaudan?”

Zhevra finished her glass and set it down at the table where the kegs were being silently auctioned and nodded to the eldest offspring of Orgorr.
Lt. Dhueth attempted to smile, showing more teeth than just the one fang from his lower jaw, but his Unequal head harness prevented the gesture. Taking Zhevra to the dance floor, they took up stances just as the next song began. The music was a waltz and the female yielded the lead to the much older fighter pilot. They whirled and danced and the Suedzuk could feel the fields of others about her and had no need to look where she was stepping. Additionally, Dhueth steered her true and confidently through the motions. Because she was able to meld her movements with his via her Awareness of the surrounding bioelectric signatures, the pair of dancers plowed their way in what observers might have thought reckless.

“Zhevra,” began Dhueth as the pair danced, “I asked you to dance with me because I needed to speak to you without seeming to catch you alone and push my opinions upon you. Understand?” Zhevra nodded as his field felt suddenly strong, both his Mag and Lek were heightened. “Thank you for welcoming my sister, Knirr into your confidence and friendship. She has been brightly lit for the first time since she came out with her preferences and later choosing our beliefs about the farce that is the Equality Test. Knirr has been the happiest I have seen in a long time. Our father, the Admiral and my brother are seething to see the energy and renewed conviction she is displaying. All this came from you, my dear. Again, I thank you. You needn’t say anything citrus. I see by your green eyes, that you are welcoming me.”

The song’s bridge played and the regal Unequal Lieutenant continued leading the dance and said, “I have been asking the least suspected of sources concerning your accidents, Zhevra. Though we can prove nothing, I cannot stand the dishonor of the true instigator of the two attempts on your life. Before the moon touches the western foothills, know that I will Infight Voellzoen. The triplets let slip that Laor was intimated not by Anglla or Nurki, but their father in a passing and malignant suggestion hidden in temptation. Then, little Faedoukhdaekuell let slip in meeting me after so long.”

The last strain of the song played and Dhueth became serious and firm with his control of the pair. The tension in his grasp of Zhevra’s body was easy to detect. Dhueth’s Lek shot through the roof of ranges the Suedzuk thought impossible. The voice of the older brother was muffled by his own muzzle straps buckled over his gray head. “She described to me the short rounds Voellzoen loaded into his hunting pistol’s magazine. They were blanks. An excellent marksperson like my brother would not have missed your urraenkaer, Zhevra Cannagrrh. He purposely missed so that the beast might kill you, making your death a hunting accident. How did you kill that beast so cleanly with only a single cartridge left in your weapon? I examined the carcass of your last kill, milady. The angle of the shot, the entry and exit wounds were spot-on. You should have heard the compliments at the tumble you took coupled with the killing shot. And Voellzoun was even amazed. We talked over the events, though he was loathed to do so to me in front of the Dame. It was a heated moment and we dared not refuse the Dame’s demand for an explanation. I only wish I had selected you for our hunting team. Instead I allowed my sister to shadow you. I am sorry you were hurt. I feel bad that the only-…Equal to ever care about the Unequals in this Pack and beyond almost died and our hopes and beliefs took a setback of indeterminable duration. Thrice, thank you, Zhevra Cannagrrh. Your bravery is model to the Unequals. Knirr has already informed me that she supports you as the heir of Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh. Leave Voellzoen to me, milady.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra, at the song’s end, was unable to wordlessly refuse Dhueth’s intention to confront Voellzoen as she had to part from the Lieutenant and curtsy ladylike at the closing of the waltz. But his words had struck her almost as deeply as Knirr’s had. So, Zhevra accented and extended the curtsy by deeping her dip of her stance and lowered her muzzle further than Dhueth had dropped his being a muzzled Unequal. It was almost scandalous, but Zhevra didn’t care. To the rest of the Pack, she was still a recovering and grieving patient with a one-word vocabulary who only recently could walk again.

Reverently, the Suedzuk thanked Lt. Dhueth for the dance by saying in a genuine voice, “Orange.” Dhueth in turn bowed his formal, military bow but his dark amber eyes were caught in a surprise stare at Zhevra’s curtsy gesture. She was giving Dhueth a similar abasement as she had given to Knirr in the shower earlier that day.

There were a few fields nearby, and curious whispers betrayed notice of the exchange between an Equal and her Unequal dance partner. Dhueth then took up Zhevra’s claw and led her from the dance floor, returning her to where he had propositioned her to partner for his requested song. He left her there to take up a second glass flute of the blood-red vintage.

“That was beautiful!” said Laor, the middle triplet who was immediately joined by Angllu and Nurki.

“You danced so easily, flowing about like that,” complimented Nurki.

“Is that how Suedzuk dance where you come from?” asked Angllu.

“Orange,” said Zhevra apologetically in that she was still not ready to speak properly while an enemy was looking to kill her. The triplets apologized and hugged Zhevra by taking turns. Then a trio of new and available males approached the domino-colored females with offers to dance. They were off like black and white toy tops of giddiness.

“Angllu makes an interesting suggestion,” said Sub-Lieutenant Knirr, Zhevra’s female friend as she appeared from the nearby crowd. “You should show us how Suedzuk dance. Here.” From inside her jacket, Knirr produced Zhevra’s folding fans.

“Orange!” You little sneak! Though the fans were stored elsewhere than her dress, Zhevra had new cause to suspect that Knirr had peeked at her ensemble while she was otherwise occupied or perhaps asleep in their shared bed.

“Now now,” backpedaled Knirr Cannagrrh. “I did not look at your beautiful outfit, Zhevra. I am your friend. Let me explain.” Then Knirr took sip of the wine between her limited, Unequal bite, before continuing. “You never left the Villa to go dress shopping. So, I did some research. Your wedding pictures filed along with the legal marriage license featured the same dress you wore that day.” Knirr’s voice lowered as did her muzzle. “I deduced that you would wear it tonight and the collar your mate-husband put on you. Though I did not look in the armoire, your collar was missing from the bedside table when I went back to the bedroom to get my saber. A wife does not forget to honor her beloved.”

Zhevra received the fans as Knirr bowed in male fashion in opposition to her gender, “Please dance for us, like you must have for our missing cousin, Gevaudan. Please?”

Gevaudan had indeed asked Zhevra to dance with the fans before him. Zhevra recalled the dance. However, she had borrowed that dance, its steps, movements and held the fans as the real dancers, the Ovaghoun Vargr females held dancing scimitars with long red tassels. They danced for their seated males, to rile the passions, stoke their inner flames for conquest. Zhevra had taken that dance but used fans instead to dare her future husband Gevaudan into finding his own passions from within again. He had only asked that she move, sway while holding the folding fans and display her lithe and dexterous form before him. The naked, white Vargr had already given his best, for her, in the contact juggling of the transparent acrylic spheres along his claws, forearms and chest; all for the price of seeing her try the fans. I miss you, beloved, she thought, her eyes going distant.

“Please?” Knirr pleaded again.

A little liquid courage, the blood-red wine slid down her throat as Zhevra downed the last of her second flute of wine. Its fire lit her belly anew if not her frosted heart longing for Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Taking the fans and nodding, Zhevra made to dance again for her husband in absentia.

She walked with a purpose over to the music director. The musicians themselves were taking a break from playing, but there was audio equipment with a library of recordings to play in the interim. Zhevra stepped up and edged the director of the equipment aside and began a search without touching the keys on the keyboard. Using her index claw on the touch screen of the audio player, she selected a piece of music which featured a 12/8-time signature, twelve beats played in the same timespan as eight. With the melody playing fast in individual beats, the counter melody would be half as fast and allow the Suedzuk to dance to either of them.

“Everybody!” announced Lt. Knirr to the dance floor. “Clear off! Zhevra Cannagrrh is going to fan dance for us! Make room!”

With a blue fan folded in her right claw and a pink fan folded in her left claw, Zhevra the red-furred Suedzuk took a crouching, balled position in the middle of the dance floor. A ring of Vargr observers watched from standing near the tables or from seated positions there. The music director took over the player and then dimmed the lights to all but the dance floor. Then the music began.

 

[The Pakkrat]

The counter melody began first, slow and flowing, a simple start of a longer song. Zhevra began to rise and tell her story, not with words but with motions of interpretive dance. She was born into a crouch, a young female. Fans popped open loudly. She stood ever higher as she played among the fans as a school student, searching for a fellow friend in the fans, around them, above or below their folds. In snapping them shut, she stood as a graduate and pretend to receive a folded fan as if it were a certificate presented to her from the ED5 principle. She held the folded fan close to her heart as it was her education. Moving forward with gentle steps into trade school Zhevra began turning, wrenching, screwing, flicking the fans as if they were tools of Engineering at the Service academy. Flight with the fans as wings of the Enclave ships came next as Zhevra sped about the dance floor her face in a bliss of her service to the Enclave Navy. She used one fan to display as her dress and castigated the captain who had crossed a line which removed her from the Service after her term of patrols. Dejected, her elbows over her eyes in distress, Zhevra fanned rain falling from the skies. She twisted and writhed in loathing, hating herself and her plight as a female in the military. Silence was about her as the crowd grew to take their interpretations of the dance.

The music by then had added the faster, true melody over the slower countermelody. Zhevra whirled and dodged, leaped and flapped with the fans as if they were bird’s wings. Her journey across the Vargr Splinters took her past worlds, empires, and the gulfs between them. The fans clashed, folded and snapped as her liner, the Vadar, came under attack. Explosions rocked about Zhevra who tried to avoid the opening and closing fans and flatten her ears against the loud pop of the opening folds. Wrapping her arms about her and sliding to the floor the fans pushing her down from behind her back, Zhevra was captured by the Corsairs. Females covered their mouths in the shadows of the audience. Did they understand?
Slowly, from an almost prone position, one of the folded fans lifted Zhevra up from under chin. She was enslaved by those who sought to make her beautiful but enslaved to the desires of others. She gyrated and slid, rose and fell as the popping fans disciplined and trained her. Until at last, with the fans parting to reveal the new face of the Suedzuk female. Then the fans trailed behind her to either side of her red and white tail like the train of the concubine’s dress. Vargr claws of the audience lowered over their hearts at the sight of Zhevra, beautiful but sad in her face.

The dance moved on to suggest in whirls of time that the Suedzuk met Gevaudan, her future husband. By flicking her folded fan on the gold pendant of the collar she wore, Zhevra symbolized him in it. He rolled his crystal balls over his claws for her by the flowing fans gliding over her own forearms and over her breasts. Love, physical and from the heart was suggested in the fluttering of the fans across her body as her tail waved in erotic patterns. From somewhere in the shadows, the triplets giggled.
Then came the marriage symbolized in dance as Zhevra dropped one fan as Gevaudan’s serrated sword. Second fell the other fan representing her largest wrench to land on the floor as she whirled in a spiral. Her heart was afire and she came to reach out to the memory of her mate-husband as the two clasped claws. She looked to her side and with pride jumped over the two folded fans on the floor as the mated pair had leaped over the sword and the wrench. They were married, Zhevra displayed the wedding ring on her left ring digit claw. There was much clapping applause at this juncture, but the story and dance was not over.

Before the song could change to a bridge in the music, Zhevra jumped again and fell to a crouch so as to snatch up the folded fans. She held one out front and swirled the second like stirring the cooking pot. Her tail swished with love as the first meal was happy and busy with the chore as he showed the gesture to all about the dance floor. She whirled at being happily married to Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Tears blurred her eyes, but did not hinder the dance. She knew by her Awareness when she came close to the blur of bioelectric fields emitted from the audience.

She came to a dead stop in the middle of the floor. With the fans behind her and still fluttering her heart’s desire, she tilted her head and torso in curiosity at seeing her husband. But then like a shock of sound and flash of the fans’ colors, they popped and her entire demeanor turned to horrified fear at Gevaudan’s advance. This would be Zhevra’s report, her story, told in dance and displayed for Dame Qithka Cannagrrh who watched from the balcony in her white gown. She wrestled with fans battering her, her claws playing over her body. Tumbling and leaping dances showed her agility as she rose from the deck to defend herself from Gevaudan. Snarls and growls, bestial and primal along with the lightning claws described her maddened and savage husband. Gasps from the crowd and whispers of ‘Gevaudan’ and “Gevaudan’s Jump” were passed along the edge of the dance floor.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra fought with her own rolls, feints and she used the whirling dance to show the Infighting style of the Vargr race. Snaps of teeth and flexing of claws accented the martial art of natural weaponry. The Sueduk heard a whispered sentence as she flew by the whisperer, “He attacked her.” Then her fated tumble, an attempt to reach the heavy pistol belted on Gevaudan’s-…

“Orange!” she screamed as the music began to fade to an end just as she collapsed to the granite dance floor. Her ears slowly drooped. Her tail flowed to the floor. The fans slowly folded as her arms unfurled to awkward angles on the cold surface of the deck-floor. Her jaw bounced lightly as if Zhevra came to a slow motion and she ended the dance laid out cold before the watchers. She held the prone pose, until the lights came up. She could hear the crickets outside the open air grand ballroom.

Zhevra rose solemnly, silently and kept her muzzle pointed to the floor. This was her dance. It was her final report, wordless and yet danced Gevaudan’s Jump, specifically the last moments she remembered before darkness. There were sniffs and one sob in the crowd. They felt it. They missed Gevaudan Cannagrrh too. Gevaudan please, where are you?!

Then a wave of clapping applause spread out from the dance floor, outward to encompass everyone in the grand ballroom, above it on the balcony and continuing to the outdoor veranda. The applause turned to cheers of appreciation.

“Well done!”

“Gevaudan’s Jump!”

“How she must feel!”

Tears flowed down Zhevra’s muzzle. This Pack loved Gevaudan Cannagrrh though he was absent all those decades. Even those younger looked up to his painted portrait and had admiration for the Vargrtarian of the Collapse.
Knirr Cannagrrh saw her crying and sobbing. She ran up in her brass-shod boots and scooped Zhevra in an embrace to lead her to an unclaimed chair outside on the veranda opened to the stars and the great lantern supermoon that illuminated it. Zhevra sat for a long time. Knirr comforted her as only a friend could.

“Orange,” she sobbed. That was the color of his HEV, Knirr. The thought echoed inside her. Gevaudan had a plan that night on the bridge, however savage, brutal or primal those azure eyes had dealt pain and ferocity upon her body.

She took up a third glass and drank down the blood-red wine too quickly. Knirr watched the Suedzuk with surprise. Music started again as the instrument musicians continued the Fete. The auction for the kegs of wine was closed, the results to be announced near the end of the festivities. The fire in Zhevra’s belly helped her recover her form, but not her ice-rimed heart. The two friends looked up at the moon for a long while into the night.

“He’s really out there, you think, Zhev?” asked Knirr Cannagrrh to her red and cream friend.

Zhevra nodded.

Knirr looked at the Suedzuk and rose. “Zhevra Cannagrrh, friend, cousin and mate-wife of our beloved Gevaudan, would you-… would you please-.” Knirr closed her eyes and took in a breath of cooling night air to continue, “Would you please dance one last song with me?”

Zhevra stared up at the standing Gvegh female. She saw the Unequal belt as her sight rose up to Knirr’s restrained face. The hope and nervousness in those amber irises over the straps of her muzzle shone in the moonlight.
Zhevra nodded serenely and rose from her chair though she could feel the onset of too much alcohol threatening her equilibrium. Her Awareness was shot, overstimulated and was let go to numb to all but Knirr. She had one more dance left in her tonight. Still saddened at the memory of her last moments with Gevaudan, Zhevra put on her best face and took Knirr Cannagrrh’s arm. The Suedzuk wife, widow to the others, was led back to the dance floor.

But Knirr was still a Privateer, serving and strong. She led the smaller Zhevra inside. Under the cover of the open air grand ballroom, the two females, one holding onto the other passed right before the Dame Qithka Cannagrrh and her entourage. The Alpha of the Pack had finally descended to come and find the heir only to be stopped in her tracks, her jaw open with surprise. Knirr had Zhevra Cannagrrh on her arm and was taking her to dance!

Zhevra looked up at taller Knirr as the two made way past the immobile and infuriated Qithka Cannagrrh in her utter shock at the sight. As the two passed more of the Pack, Dr. Adhllu the Progressive and aged Adm. Orgorr the Traditionalist among the attendees of the Fete; more and more voices fell silent. Here was the future Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh moving to stand before the disgraced Unequal, female lesbian, Sub-Lieutenant Knirr Cannagrrh in anticipation of the musicians to begin their song.

The music was slow and building as the two friends clasped claws and held each other. Flowing and yet light, strong and delicate with the more intricate instruments, the music seemed composed for the pair. They were the only two on the dance floor as the music continued to rise. Knirr led Zhevra who followed her. Murmurs ran through the witnesses like leaping static electricity. Zhevra and Knirr had no attention for them. An Equal and an Unequal of the same gender danced together this night as friends and as Pack Cannagrrh members. During the musical bridge, Zhevra laid her head against Knirr’s chest as she had done when they embraced in the bathroom earlier that day and forged their bond. The Sub-Lieutenant’s pressed and pleated skirt was hard and yet whirled along with Zhevra’s swirled tabard and hip dress. From above one might see the pair’s tails arc like furred arms of the spiraled galaxy, the dresses nebulous about the extremities.

“Thank you Zhevra,” said Knirr softly. “Thank you so very much.”

Zhevra lifted an index claw and laid it over Knirr’s already restrained muzzle to hush her. Just hold me. Tears of grief mixed with tears of friendship for her dance partner flowed again. Knirr clutched Zhevra closer on the decline of the music. I am sorry, Knirr. Only Gev can thaw my heart.

And eventually, the song came to a close. The musicians watched the dancers fall motionless facing each other. They hugged before everyone that had watched them move on the dance floor. Bowing male-fashion to Zhevra’s polite curtsy, the two exited the dance floor, parting whispering attendees like two brilliant knives slicing melting butter. Knirr and Zhevra held claws as the Sub-Lieutenant helped the tipsy Suedzuk towards their shared bedroom.

They never got past the large hall. Young Faedoukhdaekuell stood antsy before the corridor that led to Zhevra’s quarters.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Fade,” asked Knirr, “what are you doing downstairs, cub? You should be upstairs for the night.”

Faed looked worried, scared even. She looked at the two older females and shifted her weight from one digitigrade foot to another. She was dressed in the clothes she wore earlier in the day to help with setting up the Summer Solstice Fete. “I saw them from my window, Zhevra. Cousins Dhueth was following his brother, cousin Voellzoen outside and towards the firing range.”

Zhevra was sober like she had been shocked with a taser weapon. Her Awareness lit up again and she could feel the low Mag and static charged field of the young female’s Lek. She looked at Knirr in askance.

“You will take us there now, lass!” commanded Knirr, her free claw going for the handle of her saber.

The three bolted from the long hall, through the foyer and out the grand front entrance doors. Behind them, Zhevra could feel the determined pace of the Dame whose fields were like a nimbus of dark storm clouds. Doubtless Qithka had word for the two scandalous dancers. But the white robed female was only able to follow behind Zhevra with Knirr in the lead and helping the Suedzuk toward the impending confrontation.

* * *

Allain Templeton and Khzaeng were in full attentive focus on Zhevra when she stopped her tale and cleared her eyes of tears. She sniffed once and said, “Goodnight, Gentlemen.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

XXI. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
The newer guards were back again the next morning to allow Advocate Templeton and Psion Khzaeng approach Zhevra’s cell. One of the guards, a muscle-bound stack of meat actually winked at Zhevra as he fit the key into the cell door’s lock. Zhevra thought it strange, but finished her pushups and then took her place at the back wall.

The breakfast meal was already cubed, machine sliced, steak with a sauce Zhevra had not tried before. It set a mild euphoria haze on her as she chewed. She risked breaking the silence first with, “What is in this sauce, Allain Templeton? It’s delicious and I feel…”

“I asked that they go light on the dustspice,” said Allain with a tone of regret. “It’s milder on Humans, but for non-Humans, it can be quite pleasant. I told the restaurant to go light, but they must have assumed I was to consume it. Damn. You’re not feeling too sauced to continue, are you?”

A physical serenity set into Zhevra like a warm blanket on a winter night with one’s Pack about her and not a care in the world. She responded, half-smiling, “Hmm? No, I can talk. The steak and sauce was good. It’s new to me, is all.” Then the prisoner gathered up her chains and sat down on her bunk.

Allain and Khzaeng looked at each other and took their places. The advocate took up his pen and activated the recording device. The Psion stepped to his corner to watch Zhevra.

“I’ll monitor her in case she ate too much, Allain,” assured Khzaeng.
Zhevra continued, “We ran across the estate lawn in the dark to the firing range. Already a small crowd was there and I could see through my tipsy fog that Dhueth and Voellzoen Cannagrrh were about to Infight, egged on by Voellzoen’s supporters. Dhueth, the older brother, was alone among enemies.”

* * *

The supermoon’s light cast a pale glow over the Solstice night on the grounds. Growls and barks in Gvegh language could be heard as Zhevra, Knirr and Faedoukhdaekuell poured on running speed to cross the expansive lawn. Over her shoulder, Zhevra could see more Vargr, the Dame included following. Her entourage was assisting elderly Qithka Cannagrrh along at a slower pace.

The trio arrived in a panting huff as the two Infighters, Dhueth and Voellzoen Cannagrrh postured and snarled at each other.

“Black-hearted brother,” scolded the eldest Dhueth, his gray pelt reflected the moon’s beams on the clear night. “The old wolf should have schooled you better in honor. How dare you let cubs do your dirty work for you!” Dhueth had pulled off his coat and tossed his shirt aside. His tail was deadly still. His face was confident as he cracked his claw knuckles. Zhevra could see that atop his discarded uniform and cape was Dhueth’s medium gray, Unequal belt and muzzle. To take such off in the presence of Equals meant blood, to say little of the law.

“You know that red bitch – ah, there she is now – is not fit to take the Dame’s place, Dhueth,” said Capt. Voellzoen who too was removing his black cape and uniform. Flexing his claws and baring his teeth he growled, “And I challenge you to prove it in court, Unequal!”

The Dame was still most of the yard away as Zhevra regained her lungs and her wits. She could not let her Suedzuk ethnicity, her gender, her vocabulary condition, the Equality-Unequality social gap and Pack politics tear families apart and pit brother against brother. Both males, gray Dhueth and black Voellzoen, must have been excellent Infighters as their stances and the manner in which they circled each other. Claws at the ready and teeth bared, Zhevra knew there was no physical way she could stop them from fighting.

Infighting, a melee of natural weapons, charismatic dominance and a fight until the loser yielded both his throat and his self-esteem to the victor was a racial means when all diplomacy failed between two persons. But in this instance, one Vargr was accusing another of attempted murder, thus making the engagement far more serious than fisticuffs over an argument. Using tooth, claws, footwork and wrestling, Infighting was a martial art of a social sort to the Vargr. However, tonight looked to go beyond one yielding.

Two brothers, Lt. Dhueth Cannagrrh the eldest of him, Voellzoen and Knirr had the age and the right of the issue. Voellzoen had the charisma and the support of the crowd which was no small asset in an Infighting challenge. Personal charisma when compared between the two combatants could tip the scales. The Captain of a flagship far outranked a former Wing Commander fighter pilot. Though this was not the military, the two service Vargr might take such into account. Zhevra had seen such before back home, especially when both opponents were from the same branch of service.

“That old dog should have shot his Unequal cub in the ass during the Third Fleet Offensive and rid us of a stain on the family and Pack. Who knows? Maybe our sister might have not turned out to be a coward like you without your example.” Voellzoen was not pulling social punches.

“One who makes murder look like an accident is more the coward, Voellzoen,” volleyed Dhueth. “Faed told me everything. You make me sick.”

“Your opinion will never matter,” Voellzoen sneered. “Our sire disowned you the moment you put those things on. Turn away now and prove to everyone here how cowardly Unequals truly are.”

Knirr Cannagrrh tried to shoulder her way through Voellzoen’s supporters to lend some sense of sanity and increased safety to her fellow Unequal, Dhueth. Should the Infight turn deadly, as it sometimes did over matters this grave, Knirr intended to help. Instead she was shoved back by the bloodthirsty males who comprised Voellzoen’s entourage.

“Take a back seat, Unequal tramp!” shouted one Vargr male.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra got her second wind and spotted what she was looking for through the legs of the observers. The Dame was halfway across the green gulf between the firing range and the main keep. The Suedzuk weaved between and around Vargr shouting, cajoling and taking bets on who would win this Infight and whether it would go beyond the yield of the loser. The Infighters would see a rise or a fall in their charisma or self-esteem if they won or lost. But should the melee turn deadly, then charisma was the least of combatants’ concern. Then it would be a fight for survival.

With backs turned toward the Suedzuk, all eyes on the fight, Zhevra scooped up the gray belt and the muzzle and began wrapping them about her waist and head. Then a cheer went up as the brothers collided in battle. If she had only been a little faster. Zhevra regretted getting drunk at the Fete now as she struggled to fit the belt and tie it properly. The damned buckle kept catching the hair of her mane!

Two bodies in the circle of Vargr struggled and slashed at each other. Punches, claws, and snaps of sharp teeth were accented by growls, snarls and yells. Through the legs of the observing crowd, Zhevra could see the trained and experienced footwork of Dhueth and Voellzoen. Without a doubt, she knew the two males had to Infight before this night to attain and hold their leadership ranks when merit alone would not suffice. Gasps and cheers called out as the two brothers must have landed blooding blows of claw or bites. Zhevra fitted the muzzle loosely on her face as she imagined lines of claw wounds or a row of bleeding teeth marks on the pelts of the brothers.

“Make way for the Alpha! Make way!” called Dr. Azvarrkoel, Qithka’s cousin and retired trauma specialist. Such was the furor of the moment that the Progressive of the Pack Cannagrrh was ignored until those before him saw the infuriated and penetrating gaze of Dame Qithka Cannagrrh slicing their resolve to encircle the Infight.

Through the gap the Dame was making in the yelling observers, Zhevra could see Dhueth in mid-throw of his dark-furred brother. His shoulder was blood-soaked. Somehow, he had gotten underneath Voellzoen’s center of gravity and suffered a bite to it. The older brother lifted the younger and with a shoulder throw, an arc of black legs and tail sliced the sky before Dhueth slammed the Captain to the ground. The ground took the wind out of Voellzoen to the gasps of the crowd. Following up with the throw, Dhueth pushed his brother’s muzzle to one side and pinned it there against the grass. This exposed the neck and arteries. One bite and the fight could turn deadly faster than anyone could think about intervening.

Riding the parting wake of the Dame, Zhevra ducked under Dr. Azvarrkoel’s right side and saw the damage the two had inflicted upon each other in such a short time. Voellzoen’s face was lined across his brow, cheek and muzzle with claw marks sure to leave scars. Dhueth’s blood stained his gray pelt and down his chest, into his white ventral fur. She had just broken the line of surprised crowd in time to see the final move.

“Yield!” commanded Dhueth.

“Go- go to hell, coward,” gasped Voellzoen though his speech was marred by Dhueth’s claw holding his face. Blue eyes met Dhueth’s dark amber. How these two were related was Zhevra’s guess.

Dhueth opened his mouth wide and focused on the neck of his younger brother. White teeth gleamed and reflected the moon’s light. It would be fratricide then.

Zhevra took a deep breath as Dhueth’s maw descended. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “SSTOPP!”

 

[The Pakkrat]

It was a new voice, a female voice that many had not heard yet. New and present in the circle, the scream silenced all and froze the Infighters. Dhueth had his teeth around Voellzoen’s neck, but had yet to clamp his jaw and rip his brother’s throat out. Heads turned and down at Zhevra at Dr. Azvarrkoel’s side and beside Dame Qithka Cannagrrh in turn.

Zhevra wore Dueth’s Unequal belt tied properly, its excess hanging down the front of her tabard and hip dress. The gray muzzle was loose and hung lightly on her face. Her emerald green eyes flashed in the moon’s light. Here was an Equal, wearing the symbols of Unequality before all, a thing never done in anyone’s memory. Like statues everyone, including Voellzoen whose face was turned in that direction on the grass and Dhueth whose eyes lifted to focus on Zhvera wearing his things.

Dhueth lifted his mouth off his brother’s neck and panted, “What is an Equal doing wearing an Unequal’s belts?”

Knirr broke in and answered solemnly before Zhevra could answer, “She as the right to do so. She knows.”

Then Zhevra shocked everyone again by speaking loudly, “Communication! Speaking to each other. You are acting on instinct like animals Humaniti believes us to be. Think!”

Seeing that Zhevra Cannagrrh, widow of Gevaudan Cannagrrh, an Equal in Unquality belts made her to be of a new and never before experienced quality of Vargr. Mouths silent and opened, everyone listened to the sound of Zhevra’s voice, from a person who had to them lain in a coma for three years. Now with a Suedzuk voice, she spoke clearly and carefully in their Gvegh language.

“You have watched over me in a coma for nigh three years. I must have looked weak. You all must have sought questions to answers. What is this Red Pelt doing marrying your cousin? What is a Suedzuk? A female that you say is widowed now that Gevaudan’s Jump, my husband’s jump, is a thing of history to you. Well it is not history to me! It just happened before I woke up. Did you ask me about that? No.”

“This Pack may have asked about the Suedzuk, the villains of the Sack of Gashikan. Perhaps history is true of our greatest mistake over two-and-a-half millennia ago! And I learned of the Red Pelts Corsairs during the Rebellion of the Human Imperium that poured salt in the wounds of Suedzuk character. Through all this time, we Suedzuk have been hunted, exterminated by the Wolf Hunt pogroms, pushed to the ends of Charted Space in the Vargr Extents. To the brink of survival and even extinction. Did you ask me about that? No.”

“The Red Pelts should have sought asylum in the sectors of their time, but were tricked into joining up with a mad dictator and fighting against an already superior foe, Norris’ fleets of the Spinward Marches, a faction of the Rebellion that meant to survive behind the claw no matter the cost. But did you ask me if I was anything like that? Did you write to me even once in the two years of my marriage to my husband? No.”

“You have given yourselves over to fears, fear that I, a Suedzuk, a hated ‘red pelt’ will be no different than history. You fear that as Gevaudan’s lawfully wedded wife – you now call widow – that I am the heir to the Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh.”

Zhevra pointed at Voellzoen, still pinned on the grass and said, “I knew you, Voellzoen, were my enemy the day we met at the firing range. Your body language and demeanor gave you away. Suedzuk living so constantly on the edge of survival have learned through the centuries to be wary of any potential threats. Had anyone asked me, instead of assuming my acceptance of Alpha after Dame Qithka’s eventual abdication, they might have learned something new. But did you ask the limping invalid who could not talk? No.”

“You might have nodded your heads in confidence for a bit and said to each other, ‘Ah, at least the red pelt is an Equal’. Fie on that! I am disgusted at these laws of the Dzen Aeng Kho! They weren’t my laws when I was brought here in a slave’s collar and sold to Gevaudan Cannagrrh. When I married Gev, I took the Equality Test out of love for him and without fully knowing the sad issues between the stratified and partitioned peoples of a polity calling itself Equals! What hypocrisy! Look at what you are doing to yourselves!”

“Your stupid laws in the Dzen Aeng Kho have taken a sad truth that not all Vargr are created or develop equally to an overblown and partitioning set of labels that has pitted father against son, Orgorr and Dhueth, brother against brother, Dhueth and Voellzoen. It has kept Pack members from opening their hearts to those upholding beliefs, causes and personal preferences, Qithka and Knirr for example. It has pitted leaders against subordinates, Qithka and Voellzoen. This is the same Society of hypocrisy that dares its people to betray their convictions and beliefs to further the stratification, Equals and Unequals and pitifully demeans its people on the results of a single, solitary, one-time Test, damning those that fail it for the rest of their lives. You know them as Inequals.”

“Taking of slaves on the basis that those enslaved cannot yet take care of themselves must be put to work without pay and very little hope of upward mobility, robs them of even trying your so-called Society to begin with. At least Gevaudan Cannagrrh, my husband, gave me the choice and the free will to do what I do best as Chief Engineer on his ship.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra pointed at the gray muzzle on her face and said, “Unequals, loyal to the Society of Equals are downtrodden and have no true motivation to act on their loyalty so long as they are blamed for the loss of the Equality War while Equals were patted on the back for trying their best in the face of defeat. Unequals who accept their bonds in an inefficient, passive-aggressive behavior with the hope of effecting change within the system that is flawed and will not change at the rate the Unequals hope. It’s just sad. ”

“One of your own, a Cannagrrh, committed suicide after failing the Equality Test. The shame drove him to it! Before your mutilation could be exacted upon him, he took his own life. It’s in the Pack histories, Cannagrrh!”

“You have judged me on my gender, my ethnicity, my Equality that I hate now, by my marriage to Gev (which you assume is a power-play for Alpha) and the assumption that I faked my own near-death to murder him and name me a black widow is the lowest! I love Gevaudan Cannagrrh unconditionally and he loved me unconditionally, without all those labels and partitions. You haved judged me on my friendship with your cousin Knirr Cannagrrh. She is the first true friend, besides my husband, that I have earned since coming to Gvurrdon Sector!”

“I deny my status as an Equal. But know also I will not wear these either. I have crossed the bottomless chasm you have let be delved between Equals, Unequals, Inquals and slaves. I was one such slave, a concubine, a toy for which I was ill-suited to begin with. I will not acknowledge this stratification, this casting and separation ego trip. All Vargr are beings. The entitlement must stop if the polity is to heal its partition scars and rise up out of the Collapse and into a new era. If denying my Equal status means I am somehow ‘unfit’, insane, unqualified or other descriptor to ascend as Alpha, then so be it! I will leave this Pack and bring back one who is a Good Vargr, a hero and who is not dead despite the belief of everyone around the mute coma patient! I will prove to you that I am not a widow, black or red. My beloved Gevaudan had a plan that night on the bridge of the Sixth Horizon. Gev’s Hazardous Environment Suit is orange! That is what I had been trying to tell myself and everyone around me since waking in the hospital.”

“Just because a Vargr chooses Unequal status, accepting a lesser authority of how a state should be run, abstaining in passive-aggressive protest, does not mean they do not care about the polity. They are not disloyal to patriotic progress or traditions! Unequals are citizens, as are Inequals, labels in themselves, between citizen and civilian labels that deserve nothing but dissolution as lessons learned by a polity on how not to treat its people. Anyone can become a member of the Society of Equals, even slaves, so why have stratifications and damning partitions?”

Zhevra looked about her to the Vargr starting with Voellzoen and Dhueth. Then she said with a calmer heart, “I see much anger and fear, that I can feel it down to the marrow of my bones.” Their fields of Mag and Lek were too many to differentiate, but all were along the same lines displayed by their emotions and physical excitement. “But I offer forgiveness. I offer hope. If you will hear me out, I can now dispel your fear and forgive the attempts on my life. I can tell you and show you what I intend, that no more attempts on my life need be necessary.”

Voellzoen interjected with a muffled, “You can’t prove anything you say I’ve done.”

The smaller Suedzuk took a deep breath and answered the black male still pinned by Dhueth, “Look about you, Captain Voellzoen Cannagrrh. Do you see a prosecutor, a judge maybe? Do these people look like a jury? Is this a trial by law? I see families. I see a Pack, Pack Cannagrrh.” Fields started changing about Zhevra and she knew her words to hearten those gathered. She turned Dhueth and looked between him and the Dame as she spoke, “Punish him if you must, for justice’s sake and the discipline of the Pack. But know that I forgive him for his fear and anger. Voellzoen, do you love your daughters, the triplets?”

“More than anything,” answered Voellzoen who was allowed by his older brother to raise his head off the grass and look directly at her.

“They have nothing to fear from a Suedzuk, Alpha or no. I can promise you that. Vengeance solves nothing and puts holes in a people, its Packs and in families. I forgive you if will do the same for me and my people. We Suedzuk did wrong in the Sack of Gashikan so long ago and have paid a terrible price of punishment for it. For I am not my sires and dams, I still suffer for their crimes today.”

Zhevra looked to Dhueth who was still holding down his younger brother and said, “If you kill your brother, Dhueth, you will hate yourself and come to hate me eventually that I woke from that coma in the first place. Hatred born of vengeance and duty will consume you until you are nothing but hot embers and ash.” She then looked about her to all gathered, settling on Knirr Cannagrrh who was beaming at Zhevra with wonder.

“In turn, I must forgive Gevaudan’s actions, his violence marked by those azure blue eyes that were the ocean blue before that night on the bridge. I have to forgive him if I am to quest for his return and prove he is still alive against all others’ assurances that he is not. Unconditional love for my mate-husband, a Good Vargr, demands such.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Will you go on partitioning yourselves? Look at the effect it had on the Equality War. Had the Society of Equals asked directly of the Humans of the Zhodani Consulate, people who detest lying or deception, they would have been forthwith about their aid to the Thirz Empire, another failure of communication that led to the loss of the Equality War. This is the same lack of communication you have shown me. Everyone who needed answers from me and failing to ask my intentions and desires, robbed me of my free will as a former slave, as Gevaudan’s mate-wife, as a patient and as a so-called heir.”

“Anyone who wants to know about that night on Gevaudan’s ship which you call Gevaudan’s Jump can ask me, read my report or see the heartbreak in me that my beloved turned on me in a fit of savage insanity. I am confident that he was not in his right mind to kill someone he loved unconditionally. You, Dame Qithka, can find my e-mailed report in your inbox. Those who saw my dance earlier know the final moments as I remember. But I forgive Gevaudan. I must. I love him unconditionally.”

“The deterioration of communication has sundered Pack Cannagrrh, halted love of brothers, sires, sons, daughters, cousins, leaders to followers. Respect of each other’s achievements has been devaluated, all in favor of a single snap-shot event, the Equality Test. We Suedzuk are raised that family, blood relatives and anyone we adopt into that family are valued and loved, a quality so in demand as we eked out a living on the edge of Charted Space. You are family. You are Pack. You are Vargr. Act like Vargr beings boldly and in the face of useless laws written in books collecting dust. The true laws are the ones you keep in your hearts. Families are supposed to bind together through love, unconditional love and not hate because of choices or single, damning failures. Families do not scar each other.” At that Zhevra pointed down at the two brothers’ wounds. “Families support each other,” she added.

Zhevra then pointed to the stars above her and said, “Do you know the horrors I have travelled through across the Vargr Splinters? Do you have any idea of the hideous creatures Vargr can become, their reckless jihads, the atrocities that are waiting to happen to your daughters and sons? In my journey Spinward, my heart nearly stopped at the nightmare that was the Jihad of Faarzgaen, though I passed safely Rimward it. Virus is still out there, turning living people, Vargr included into sub-processor units for whatever function it desires.”

“Social conditioning and partitioning along species, gender, ethnic, classist, sexual preferences and other issues will not give the Pack nor the Society of Equals what it needs to stand up to the likes of those terrible forces just outside its borders. Your walls between each other must come down if you don’t want the next generation to suffer.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Zhevra concluded as she began unbuckling the symbols of Unequality from her body, “I am leaving. I thank you, Pack Cannagrrh for your vigilance over the mate-wife of your missing cousin Gevaudan Cannagrrh. You have taught me much in the ways of politics unfortunately. I don’t want to inherit this negativity. I will bring back a Good Vargr who will truly show you unconditional love. You have nothing to fear from me.”

With the Infight stopped, Drs. Azvarrkoel and Adhllu, from the Progressive faction of the Pack stepped to lend first aid to the Traditionalists brothers who slowly rose. Zhevra came before Dhueth Cannagrrh as Adhllu was treating him with coagulant sprays.

The Suedzuk had Dhueth’s belts in her claws, “These belong to you, sir.”

Lieutenant Dhueth, seemingly ignoring the pain of his shoulder bite looked down to the shorter female and said, “As Knirr says: you know. Keep them. You are of a higher quality than I have ever seen. I have others in my luggage. Zhevra, keep them and show us by your example, this higher quality in you. I would have proudly seen you as the next Alpha. Alas. Bring him home, Gevaudan’s wife.”

Zhevra decided not to argue and curtsied to Dhueth instead, “What will become of Voellzoen whom I have forgiven?”

The Dame Qithka stepped up to Voellzoen and pronounced an Alpha’s sentence, “Captain Voellzoen of my cousin Orgorr, you will return to the navy, to your flagship and serve with distinction and redeemed honor. Do not return to Cannagrrh Villa until you fully understand what Zhevra Cannagrrh, whom you call a ‘red pelt’, has done tonight. She has indeed shown a quality you should spend your time contemplating aboard your vessel. Your brother Dhueth will escort you to your ship. Until that time, Voellzoen, do not return.”

Housekeeper Vrrakh, the female Marine, began clapping a simple applause to Zhevra. This was followed by added clapping from the house staff, Chef Raegksungkuen who had arrived just in time to hear Zhevra speak. Then the few slaves present added their applause. The Pack Cannagrrh began to add their applause, though Dhueth was escorting his younger brother off the site to the grav-van garage. Claws clapped, tails wagged in similar gestures of applause and eyes glistened in the moonlight.

Knirr Cannagrrh came up from behind Zhevra and hugged her tight saying, “You are amazing, Zhevra.”

“A better speech I could not have penned myself,” said Qithka who returned her attentions to the younger Zhevra. “You have my leave to bring him home. I have some legal documents and a list of Gevaudan’s assets for you to peruse. I believe Gevaudan had a sizeable account that will aid your quest. You must claim them and then search for him. I wish I could go, but for my age and that these puppies will need a stern claw before you bring back my brother, Zhevra.” Qithka then laced her claws under the sleeves of her dress.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Knirr Cannagrrh then said over Zhevra’s shoulder, “I can help you up until you leave Dzuerongvoe, Zhev. I have to return to my company but I still have leave time left.”

“I do have a list of needs on the laptop in the bedroom, Knirr,” said Zhevra who was losing her endurance for this night, having spent it on her run and the castigation. She leaned into the arms of Knirr, her friend. “Equipment mostly that you might purchase since few on this world can bring themselves to do business with a Suedzuk.”

“Anything for a fellow Vargr who knows,” said Knirr Cannagrrh who squeezed Zhevra in a hug.

Late as it was, the mob broke up and many returned to the keep on the estate. The Suedzuk and the Gvegh Sub-Lieutenant returned to their bedroom and locked the door. Soon in their night clothes and about to climb into their shared bed, Zhevra stopped herself with a notion. Knirr saw her freeze.

“Is everything alright, Zhev?” asked Knirr.

Zhevra Cannagrrh, the current heir and questor of her husband’s return rounded the huge four-post bed and came before Knirr Cannagrrh. She looked at Knirr’s long nightshirt, the light blue that hid the taller Vargr’s scars across her back. Lifting Knirr’s shirt, she removed the concealing fabric exposing the gray female to Zhevra.

“What are you-?” asked Knirr but she was hushed by an index claw from the shorter Suedzuk.

“Hush,” said Zhevra. “Let me talk now.”

Then Zhevra reached again and unbuckled Knirr’s Unequal belt, swatting away Knirr’s claws when she reacted. Next the red and cream colored female undid that matching yellow muzzle, removing it from the Sub-Lieutenant’s head. “From now on, please Knirr, when we are alone or in the presence of my mate-husband who also knows – in his own way – you need not wear these. You have taught me so much, Knirr Cannagrrh. Thank you so very much for the lesson you put me through. Your scars are beautiful in their way. You don’t need to hide them from me. I think of them as battle scars of a different sort and can say honestly that I revere you for your stout heart. Is it any wonder why Gevaudan left the Society of Equals and Pack Cannagrrh? I believe it was because he was protesting his own Equality, those stupid laws, in his personal way. You say I know now. Then you don’t need these on in my presence, luv.” Zhevra mimicked Chef Raegksungkuen’s peculiar accent on that last world. The Suedzuk then tossed the Unequal belts to the carpet on the far side of the bedroom to fall next to Knirr’s dresser.

Tears welled up in Knirr’s smile down at Zhevra. No longer socially restrained, Knirr raised her nose and muzzle to level with Zhevra’s. As she was without clothes, Knirr returned the favor to Zhevra then hugged her and sniffed back her tears. With her height and strength, she lifted Zhevra off the floor in that embrace.

“Friends,” the two said accidentally together. Tossing the red-furred female onto the bed, Knirr climbed in after her. The two fell fast asleep, drained as they were by the Fete, the Infight and Zhevra’s lecture.

 

[The Pakkrat]

XXII. Regina (Spinward Marches 1910) A788899-C, Duerongvoe (Gvurrdon 1413) B664997-C of Zhevra’s testimony
The next morning saw Zhevra sitting on the bedside and reading the hardcopy legal documents concerning her claim in probate court over the remaining assets owned or controlled by Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Though it would be some red tape, Zhevra was confident that the Dame would see to it that the Suedzuk was able to legally take possession of all that was left behind by the missing Pilot-Astrogator.

Zhevra read on that the last shipment on the Sixth Horizon has been emancipated by the courts in the argument that their safety was jeopardized by Gevaudan’s attack on his Chief Engineer and leaving the ship basically un-staffed. Robots Bob and Vincent had piloted the Far Scout to the usual destination with help of the onboard computer and Gevaudan’s Astrogation laptop that he kept on the bridge. The freedom of the slaves was well and good in Zhevra’s mind. She wished them fair winds on Gnoengungag or wherever they chose to wander or work as concubines or in some other career.

The next sheaf of papers told of the impound of the vessel as none of the Downport crews had the command codes for the Sixth Horizon. Dame Qithka of Pack Cannagrrh had signed for all the fees as well as the emergency crews who shipped Zhevra’s cryogenic, low berth capsule to her on Dzuerongvoe. During the three years Zhevra slept, the Far Scout was gently crane lifted and moved to the end of the landing strip and used berths. As it was technically Qithka’s property, being Gevaudan’s next of kin awake to the world, the Sixth Horizon was made into a museum exhibit because of its Imperium make and model, though it was heavily modified by the starship architect Gevaudan Cannagrrh. Tours of the ship were allowed for a small maintenance fee. The robots, Bob and Vincent, were granted permission as assistants to the museum curator to escort tourists onto the ship and tell of their adventures from the time Gevaudan bought them up until Gevaudan’s Jump. Reading that the two robots had not been off-lined made Zhevra’s heart ache and she longed to see them again. The two had followed simple robotics laws and delivered the ship to safety through two more jumps and a load of worried slaves. Two more heroes in Zhevra’s life, she decided.

Zhevra then realized that she alone of the living crew of the Sixth Horizon knew the command codes to restart it. Gevaudan had specifically instructed the robots not to give out the codes and answer only to those who knew it. She would need to, at the very least, tour the vessel at Gnoengungag Bay and Downport. Additionally, the legal documentation listed Gevaudan’s local business office in the Startown of Gnoengungag. Though it was not doing business these three years, the Scout-Courier had paid rent in full for the rest of the 1100s. This was news to Zhevra. For while she knew that her husband had gone into town to do business, he had never told her about an office. Additionally, a third robot, a drone this time, was stationed there as a secretary of sorts to garner incoming clients and passengers. Though the Pilot-Astrogator still had to conduct his advertising of passages outbound of the polity, the robot was to log all those interested in his well-known route. Zhevra would have to travel to Gnoengungag and meet this drone and take charge of the office. It was another stepping stone for her on her search for her husband.

Next on the lists was Gevaudan’s liquid assets accounts and the figures startled Zhevra. Dressing quickly in her Engineer’s flight suit, she padded down the hall to the kitchen and wolfed down breakfast. There, she stealthily returned the stolen steak knife she believed she had needed. Chef Raegksungkuen was there to serve her meat strip rolls seasoned with various spices and drenched in a sauce.

“Not so fast, luv!” cried the Chef. “You gotta savor these works of art, short as they appear on the platter.”

“Sorry,” said Zhevra with her mouth full. Then she was off like a sprinter toward the grand library where she knew Qikthka held court at her makeshift office.

“Op! Zhevra! This is a library and you don’t get to treat my carpet like a track with those claws,” scolded Dame Qithka Cannagrrh. This morning, the former Journalist was dressed in a white, lady’s business suit with her usual jewelry sparkling. “I suppose you have been reading my brother’s full assets.”

Zhevra panted and puffed after eating and running, “Alpha, did you- are you aware of how much money my husband hoarded?”

“Zhevra,” said Qithka who put down her ornate pen from a letter she was scribing, “Your husband, if he is alive as I can only hope, is over 115 years old thanks to his diligence in those pills from the Third Imperium. In that time, he married four times, you being the last. Do you disbelieve that he had an earned wealth from his time in the Artemis Group¸ those scallywag Imperium mercenaries, Gevaudan’s starship earnings, and ending with the Courier business aside from the slaving? My dear, though I still harbor some grudge against him for dumping me on Ouse Faeg and forcing me to take up Alpha of Pack Cannagrrh, I envied Gevaudan. He was free of the Society of Equals and yet never forgot his roots. The slaves he sold, the wives he emancipated, you included, he kept up with and wrote letters to all of them. His divorces were not bitter or angry. They were amicable and he let go his three previous wives with charitable start-up funds from his own accounts. They in turn bought slaves from him so long as his criteria for their treatment was upheld. You saw some of what he did, Zhevra, but not all. Yes, young one, Gevaudan Cannagrrh was a business Vargr as well as a slaver. He was a hero and a lover. Those last two you should be intimately familiar. So. What are you up to, now that you have committed to leaving me to gather cobwebs as Alpha still?” With that news to Zhevra, the Dame tilted her head inquisitively but also to give a little exposure to her neck in silence.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“When Knirr comes back with my shopping list items,” began Zhevra, “I will then travel to Gnoengungag and search for clues in Gevaudan’s office. It’s listed here in his assets, buried in all the other gear, starship, weapons, investments, and licenses. His slaving license is long past renewal, but he had paid for that office until 1200 comes. I want to go there and look in that office. Then the ship. I need to speak to Bob and Vincent at the museum. It says here that the Sixth Horizon is an exhibit.”

Qithka nodded her head, “Yes, since no one knows the command codes and doesn’t want to defile the hero’s ship, I committed it to the museum as a relic exhibit from before the interstellar Collapse. It is an Imperium ship after all.”

From around the stacks of bookshelves in the library stepped the elderly Uthka Varzeekh, cane in claw and perusing another book with her free one. The fortune teller was dressed in her signature purple hooded robe. Around her waist was tied a thick sash belt of the Unequals the color of orich, the golden-orange metallic. Similarly, the female had another sash tied loosely over her muzzle similar to the muzzles worn by Dhueth and Knirr Cannagrrh. The cane, a shaft of wood in the form of an Asclepius rod, thumped the carpet as she approached. Lastly the crone wore a scarf of purple that featured a red trident symbol.

The Dame nodded to the Unequal female. Zhevra by now had learned that Uthka had been Qithka’s attaché during Gevaudan’s adventures. These two were now elderly friends though space had separated them until the Dame’s summons to unlock Zhevra’s vocabulary.

Uthka greeted Zhevra with a polite but Unequal nod-bow of her head. Reading glasses rode the bridge of the Seer’s muzzle, just above her social restraint. “Vhat color is Gevaudan Cannagrrh’s HEV, lass?” It was a reminder of their time together on the veranda.

“It is orange, ma’am,” reported Zhevra. “Gevaudan’s Hazardous Environment VaccSuit is orange. Thank you again for helping me to speak. I had been telling myself that reminder and did not clue in until you came. And his eyes are blue, ocean blue, not the crystal azure that I saw in him that night. Something about him was wrong, leading me to believe that Gev was not right in his mind when he attacked me. Yet, despite what everybody says about jaunting from a ship already in jumpspace, I believe that he had a plan. Gevaudan Cannagrrh was a brilliant Pilot, an expert Astrogator if the final report reads true, a genius of starship architecture, and must have had a plan in the time it took him to put me down and then jaunt. No savage beast like that state I saw in his face and eyes could have concentrated long enough to purposefully jaunt like that.”

Uthka glanced at Qiktha for a brief second, the two sharing a private memory it seemed to Zhevra. “You have your vork cut out for you, cub.”

Qithka broke protocol and asked the female in purple, “Did you Look? Not to be presumptuous, mind you.”

The Unequal narrowed her eyes at the Dame and said, “I have but am not in the market anymore. I did this last task as I was paid. I have been burned bevore and you vell know it. Cassandra’s Conundrum is harsh. I have spent my time in quietus and I don’t relish Looking much anymore.”

Zhevra was confused, but as it was a private exchange with her happening to be present, she kept her mouth shut in the shadows of the two elders. To the Suedzuk, it seemed that there was an understanding between Uthka Varzeekh and the Dame Qiktha Cannagrrh, something that also crossed the line between Equals and Unequals that was unfathomable. Zhevra noted that she might ask Gevaudan when she found him. Hope swelled a little in her. There was so much story in this Pack and in her husband and she desperately wanted her beloved to reveal all his secrets.

When the awkward silence and the end of the topic was evident, Qithka looked to Zhevra and asked, “What is your timetable, young Cannagrrh? When will you be departing the Villa?”

Zhevra smarted to and answered, “When Knirr comes back with my items and I’ve booked a passage to Gnoengungag. I will make sure to check with you before leaving, Alpha.”

The title seemed to quell the inquisition so Qithka said, “See to it then. Shoo.” She then looked at the crone in purple and said, “Adventurers.” It earned a chuckle from the Unequal Seer.

Dismissed, Zhevra backed out of the library and left the two to chat. Zhevra assumed that Uthka had been present to see that she could still speak properly and then lay her bill for services on the Dame’s desk. The Suedzuk returned to her bedroom to begin packing her belongings.

“I wish I had your measurements,” complimented Knirr Cannagrrh later that night as the Gvegh female found Zhevra in the bedroom. “You make me envious, Zhev.”

Zhevra was trying desperately to pack everything she owned in the few baggage cases that had come to Cannagrrh Villa from the hospital. She looked up and smiled to the Sub-Lieutenant who was finally in civilian attire and returning from Dzuerongvoe Startown’s shopping district. “Sometimes, Knirr Cannagrrh, I wish I had your build and power and….” She was about to say that she wished she could consciously turn off her Awareness senses tangent to her sense of touch.

“And what?” asked Knirr flirtatiously.

“Your bravery.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Zhevra Cannagrrh!” protested Knirr. “You are very brave. Brave enough to stand up to the Dame, the Pack and any Equal who saw you in Dhueth’s gray belts that night. No one, in my memory has publicly crossed those barriers except you, Zhev. You are very brave.”

“You do so every day, Knirr Cannagrrh,” replied Zhevra. “You live it, the lifestyle of-…of that.” The Suedzuk pointed at Dheuth’s gray belts still yet to be packed. “It makes me wish I had known more about that stupid Test. I might have even refused Gevaudan had I known what you taught me.”

“Enough of that, luv,” said Knirr, changing the subject and again mimicking Chef Raegksungkuen’s accent. “You make me blush. Do you know how many incredulous looks I received because I was purchasing sizes I had no hope of fitting? When I tried to tell the merchants that it was for my cousin, I got condescending nods and disbelief served up thick and polite as an Unequal could get.” Knirr punctuated her account by pulling from shopping bags the clothes that Zhevra had listed and the accessories to be worn.

The black and yellow double torso bras and double thongs were revealing and resembled public bathing suits or clothing worn to a seaside beach. Knirr wrinkled her bound muzzle with tilt of her head. The gesture was cute and made Zhevra giggle. The Privateer then asked, “Just where to do you intend to swim, young flirt, and do I get to see you try them on?”

Zhevra put down the resistant luggage bags and their protesting zipper closures. Smiling to the larger Gvegh female, she nodded to Knirr. Trying on the new clothes, Zhevra pulled on the black and yellow over her red and cream colored pelt. As she did so, Knirr had to put both claws over her mouth to keep from squealing. But the revealing two-piece suit, though fitting properly – the given measurements true – Zhevra’s pelt flared outward wherever the straps grabbed her.

Knirr risked a question as she watched the Suedzuk turn about, “Why so revealing if you aren’t going swimming?”

“I could lie to you, still,” said Zhevra, “but you are my only friend. Do you think you could keep a friend’s secret?”

“Does this have to do with Gevaudan, Suedzuk?”

Zhevra snickered but answered, “No. He’d love to see me in this. Instead it has to do with me.”

Knirr helped Zhevra adjust the straps and closures on the outfit. Next came the black neoprene web belt with pouches, a pistol holster and clip pouches. Knirr helped snap on the buckles about her waist and right thigh to secure the holster. The leather of the pouches and weapon holder smelled new. “There. Where’s your weapon? See if it fits. And what pray tell is this friend secret? I’ve never shared a best-friend secret before.”

Zhevra was nervous. She was about to let Knirr know about her and the Suedzuk Awareness senses of Mag and Lek fields given off by anything with an electromagnetic field. The nervousness showed on her red and cream face.

Knirr saw how serious Zhevra was suddenly and sat down on the side of the bed as Zhevra went to look for the pistol the Dame had gifted her. “This is a big secret, isn’t it?”

“Bigger than that, friend,” said Zhevra. Coming up with the aluminum case, Zhevra opened it and brought forth the Dame’s pistol, now hers. The holster greeted the weapon as if it were already mated.

Knirr nodded approvingly, “Okay. On my honor and our friendship, your secret is bound in me, Zhevra Cannagrrh.” The cousin-in-law laid a claw over her heart as she said such.

“This secret goes deep, Knirr Cannagrrh,” whispered Zhevra who moved to sit next to the gray female. “You cannot tell anyone, even if my safety demands such. Do you understand?”

“I understand fully. This is a secret that goes beyond just you.” Knirr grew serious and hugged Zhevra next to her.

“Okay. Here goes. I have only told this to one other non-Suedzuk and that was my husband,” declared Zhevra.

“Spit it out, Zhev.”

Zhevra huffed and then breathed in to speak her secret, “Remember that urraenkaer that fell on me?”

“I remember. Quite a shot to kill it from your lower position. Are you some prodigy marksman?”

Zhevra smiled and continued, “I, we, the Suedzuk can feel bio- and electromagnetic fields as a supplementary sense to our sense of touch. Whew. I said it. Even covered in dirt and leaves, I could feel the core of the animal’s bioelectric fields and made the shot when I rolled under it, not away. It is an adaptation we Suedzuk took with us from Lair, the Vargr homeworld. We can feel, with our fur and our hides the fields about us. Sitting this close to you, Knirr, I can feel your magnetic and bioelectric fields which we call Mag and Lek.”

“Wicked,” said Knirr in wide-eyed wonder, “What are my ‘fields’ telling you now?”

Zhevra did not have to concentrate and answered immediately with, “Your Mag is heightened and your Lek is down low. Your fields want me sitting here, attracting me like a weak magnet.”

“Oh, now I am going to blush,” cringed Knirr. “It’s like you can read parts of me I’m not even aware of.”

Zhevra elaborated with, “And that is what we call it, Awareness. Voellzoen thought I was a poor shot at the firing range. But that is because I am not trained in firearms, starships being my weapon of choice. But when the Hunt started, I could ‘feel’ the fields of the charging urraenkaers. Their stampede exuded both a collective field of the herd but each individual was easy to pick out and take down. Targets on the firing range have no fields. Understand?”

 

[The Pakkrat]

“So, even though Voellzoen sent his firing arc’s beasts toward you, you could have taken them all down had you enough ammunition?” Knirr was about to blow the description of Awareness out of proportion.

“Well,” Zhevra backpedaled with, “I don’t know about that for sure, but I knew immediately what he had done when the animals’ fields started to clump together. We Suedzuk don’t rely too heavily on Awareness. We have sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch like all other Vargr. But over the millennia, we did hone our Awareness as a necessary means to survival, especially after the Wolf Hunts pushing us ever further from civilized space. Pushed to the edge, we worked at feeling fields and interpreting others’ Mag and Lek. I don’t know how I would have done against the urraenkaers. But I had only one bullet left in the hunting pistol and I was desperate.”

Zhevra changed examples with, “Remember the bubble bath incident? This will show the limits of Awareness in Suezuk.”

“You nearly drowned.”

“I could not feel the lad, Gaenkarrg, enter as being submerged or saturated tends to dampen, if you will, our sense of touch and that in turn affects our sense of Awareness. I went for the tub stopper and had just pulled it when he surprised me and held my head above the draining water. When totally drenched, we can’t feel fields at all.”

Knirr nodded, understanding dawning on her, “So in the shower that day, your nervousness in that wet space kept you from feeling my uh – fields?”

Zhevra nodded but added, “Yes, I was nervous but the Suedzuk have also learned to pay attention to body language, gait, stance and the like in others, Vargr being our best reads. Humaniti falls off from there and don’t ask me what those Aslan are telegraphing at any given time.”

Knirr was in full blush, her facial skin turning red under her ventral white fur coloration. “You knew then how I felt in the shower?”

Zhevra answered with, “I’m not a telepath, Knirr. You Gvegh are more apt to be Psions than the Suedzuk. I don’t know what’s going through that brain of yours. I’m not psionic. Not like Gevaudan. I can only guess what your fields are exuding. For example, I can tell when someone is lying, not because I can read thoughts or emotions or anything like that. But their fields change slightly when a person who knows they are lying is making a false statement. It’s like a polygraph test but it can be misread by a Suedzuk who isn’t paying attention or is dampened by water or other fluid. Touch is fundamental and you are touching me now with your fields. This close and talking with you, I can feel if you are being, y’know, genuine. If you can lie to me from this distance and fool me, then you either believe what you are saying is true or you’re a pathological, lying sociopath. Make sense?”

“Again, you are amazing, Zhev,” repeated Knirr. “I wish I could feel fields too. Can you, uh, turn off the sense?”

“Can you turn off your sense of touch, Knirr?” asked Zhevra. “It’s like that. It has to be dampened somehow or otherwise insulated. Touch is fundamental, like an infant cub to its dam.”

“So, electromagnetics, stunners and the like are extra dangerous to Suedzuk, I’d imagine,” guessed Knirr.

“Yes, if they land,” explained Zhevra. “Sometimes we can feel a person about to pull a trigger. Their Lek leaps, telegraphing the action before the weapon fires.”

Knirr looked down at Zhevra’s mostly exposed, red and cream pelt and said, “And that is why you chose such revealing numbers. You aren’t being provocative. You’re pointing all your sensitive Awareness with as little interference or insulation as possible.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

“It does look provocative, doesn’t it?” asked Zhevra. “I imagine males might think twice about shooting a female or regretting putting holes in this rare body, but I’m only for Gevaudan, Knirr.”

“You are fetching in that, dangerous too now that I know this about you,” Knirr admitted. “I know I’d think twice about shooting or harming you in any way, friend.” At that Knirr hugged Zhevra again. “I will take this to my grave. On my honor and Ancients strike me dead and everyone who learns it from me the moment it leaves my mouth.” Again, the gray female placed her right claw over her heart solemnly. “That you have told me says you trust me. You may be cousin Gevaudan’s, but I’m happy to have your confidence, Zhevra Cannagrrh.”

“Unconditional love,” responded Zhevra, “isn’t limited to mates. It is impersonal. And I do love you, my friend. It’s just not the same love one shares with mates, is all.”

“Then, I unconditionally love you, Zhevra,” whispered Knirr, “No strings, okay? Go find him and bring him home. But in that getup, I-...” Knirr gazed at Zhevra hungrily, then cleared her throat and became more formal. “I think you will hear something from the Dame to be sure.”

“Let the hag rage,” said Zhevra. “I’m still leaving and well beyond her range of control.”

* * *

Zhevra ended the day’s interview with Allain Templeton and the Psion Khzaeng. “And on your honor, Mr. Templeton and the honor of the Psions, Khzaeng; please hold what you know. Our Awareness is both a boon and a weakness if properly used against the Suedzuk.”

Allain nodded and pointed to the recording device, “I’ll take it to my grave.”

Khzaeng began reciting the Psion’s Oath with, “I am a Vargr, I am a Regency citizen, I am a psion. I am a person to be trusted…”

“Goodnight, Gentlemen.”

Zhevra was allowed to shower again on good behavior at the testament of Psion Khzaeng though Allain Templeton had put in the good word first. Late in the evening, the three bruiser Human females led Zhevra to the showers. However, this time, instead of the blonde, socialite, Darrian guard who brought in the shampoo and other sundries, there was a lithe and tall Human female. In their usual, once piece canvass guard uniforms, the Humans allowed the Suedzuk out of her prison blues and let her chain tether out long enough and around a corner to give Zhevra her Vargr privacy.

Except the new female.

Zhevra silently took the offered shampoo, a thankfully unscented brand from the woman in the uniform. Her hair was cut military style and the excess was dutifully bound in a thick bun and gave the red-furred Vargr some idea of how long the guard’s mane would be if let fully down to hang. Zhevra decided to test this guard’s resolve with, “Vilani mix, huh?” She looked down to the woman’s surname embroidered on the left chest just below her clavicle bone. It read: CROW.

The woman took the unused shampoo back from Zhevra and nodded but said nothing. Drenched by the shower, Zhevra’s Awareness was once again doused and unfeeling to the Vilani woman. Yet this female was stronger, stood taller and almost at attention, parade rest as it was called. Unlike true blood Vilani, this guard was somehow mixed with Solomani blood, perhaps a line long before the Collapse. Zhevra guessed as she looked askance at the tight-lipped woman that she might be just under thirty years of age. The Suedzuk’s glances were met with stone-faced analysis in return. The woman was studying Zhevra in return. The tell was in her eyes.

Completing her shower, Zhevra was allowed to towel off and put into a new set of prison blues and taken back to her cell by the four Humans. The prisoner decided she liked the silence of this new guard as she was again chained to the rear of her cell and given space to climb into her bunk and retire for the night.

Dreams of holding her husband gladdened and tortured Zhevra simultaneously. They stood in the darkness of some section of the Sixth Horizon, Gevaudan and Zhevra. Holding him tight, she promised him, “I’m coming. Hold on.” The Gevaudan said nothing and gazed down at her in his arms, his claws as gentle pins through her back. The dream ended in the pre-dawn morning when she woke to pins and needles in her hip. Instead of dangling one leg over Gevaudan’s, her hip had gone numb from dangling over the edge of the cruel bunk bed frame. The disappointment and loss of her dream husband brought on the shakes again, a triggered seizure of doubt and fear that ended in early morning chills.

Thus, it was that Zhevra Cannagrrh was still under her covers trying to warm herself when the advocate and the Psion returned the next morning. The new guards rattled their clubs and ordered the prisoner out of bed and against the back wall as per the protocol. Zhevra angrily took her blanket with her in obeying. Cold and shivering, she waited for Allain Templeton and Khzaeng to enter with breakfast.

She blamed Khzaeng for the two knowing just what to bring her to warm her innards. Served was a pot of spiced poultry stew of some flightless avian Zhevra could not name. But her nose drew her to breakfast. Of course, she decided, how could the Psion read her condition before they arrived at the detention facility? Even professional Psions had their limits, right?

“Good morning, Ms. Cannagrrh,” greeted Allain. “You sleep rough? I noticed you were limping. Here is your plastic spoon. Please don’t stab me with it.” It was a jest of course but Zhevra did not laugh.

“I slept wrong and my leg went numb, is all,” she said before spooning into her stew. She noticed that the Human and the Psion ate bowls of the same stew.

Allain must have read her curiosity when he said, “Chicken noodle soup for that spark within. Figured we all needed a little dose.” Finishing his bowl first, Allain set up his shorthand transcribing and recording device. Khzaeng who finished second as spoons were not the favored utensil of Vargr, took his place in the corner and began his usual routine of silent observation of Zhevra.

In her prison blues and still chained, the Suedzuk decided to keep the wrapped blanket about her as she told more of her tale.