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OVER THE NEXT several hours they remained glued to the news, watching the clip over and over. Then the talk shows and panel interviews began. In all the years she’d known Isra, Kara had never seen Isra so unsettled and outwardly angry as at that moment. If Badal had been present, he’d have been justifiably afraid for his life, and his continued well-being. Yet the shows were worse, as conjecture and fallacies blossomed, sprung up and escalated, like a weed pushing through pavements, ignored until it had spread, and then hard to uproot.
Kara sat still, watching them, wishing she was in the capital right now so she could do her job. She should have been deflecting this, shielding the Queen and Isra, planting misinformation, and even revealing facts. Instead, she was stuck on a freighter in the dregs of Jade space, all actions utterly futile. Right now, she wanted to discredit this so-called news station, but she was helpless, and could only watch as they maligned the Queen and the Royal Family.
On the vid screen, a serious and studious man lounged in an armchair next to Jokuri, a well-known Ghelpen talk show host. They had exchanged light banter, but the man straightened as the talk turned to the Queen and the bio-cyber; to her. Kara ground her teeth together.
“Professor Remillard, you’re an expert in genetics,” Jokuri said, clicking her top arms together. “What do you think about the rumours abounding regarding the Royal Family themselves being modified, not just this bio-cyber?” She faintly shuddered, her pale blue scales shimmering underneath the soft lights.
“Ahh, you’re referring to the fact that only girls have been born for generations, yes?” Remillard said, clasping his fingers together.
“Indeed. Rhaslok hasn’t had a male heir or ruler since just before first contact with the Tavashan, during Queen Osana’s reign. I believe her uncle was the last King of Rhaslok, but that was when it was still only a small Kingdom, one of many nations on Rhaslok Prime. Since the founding of the Empire and the Zones, there’s not been a single boy born to the Royal Family. A bit odd if you ask me,” Jokuri said, her scales shifting again.
“There have been some very wild theories abounding lately, but this one has some merit,” Remillard stated.
Isra crossed her arms and glared at the screen.
The guest speaker pursed his lips before continuing, “But, and I make this point strongly, this could not be due to biological cybernetic modifications. They would not cause only females to be conceived and born.”
Jokuri fluttered her arms and shifted, and Kara cynically wondered if she was unhappy about the scientist’s assertion. If Remillard had supported this claim, it would have been a sensational scoop.
“But this is hundreds of years we’re talking about,” Jokuri probed. “Surely one boy should have been born during that time?”
Remillard pressed his fingertips together, forming a steeple. “It could be random chance, stranger things have happened, but that is quite unlikely. Now, I’m not going to say I know what is going on, and I want to make it absolutely clear, I am not a royal physician and have never examined the Queen or Princess Isra.”
Daku cursed, not so quietly. “Then why don’t you just keep your mouth shut,” he snapped at the screen, eyes narrowed.
“His mere presence is supporting Jokuri’s claims,” Tarsk snapped, clearly annoyed as well. “He should stay in his lab back in the Ruby Zone.”
“You know him? I take it he’s not that great at his job?” Daku asked.
“I am more familiar with his work than him,” Tarsk said and then sighed. “He’s a professor at Tirik University where I got my undergraduate degree. He is a careful and studied geneticist, unfortunately. His word will carry weight.”
Daku cursed again. Kara watched Tarsk, her eyes narrowed, before turning back to the screen.
Remillard was speaking again. “In general terms, a family not having a single boy for generations is highly unusual and unlikely to be from natural causes.”
Jokuri perked up, her antennae flicking. “But you ruled out the Royal Family using bio-cybernetics.”
“As I said, I can’t speak directly about the Royal Family,” Remillard reiterated. Unfortunately, he didn’t stop there. “But, in my opinion, for something like this to happen, it would mean that at the very least genetic selection has occurred, and even possibly genetic modification in vitro.”
“In vitro...you’re suggesting changes have been made to the foetus?” Jokuri asked, palpable excitement thrumming through her scales, setting them shimmering.
“As I said, it’s a possibility. Though I would think genetic selection far more likely.”
“But that was made illegal by the Royal Family.” Jokuri turned to face the camera, the facets of her eyes glittering. “Have they been setting one rule for us and another for themselves? Let me know what you think—”
The screen abruptly switched off as Isra slammed her hand down on the control. She bent over clutching at her middle, her whole body shaking before she abruptly shoved to her feet and fled the room.
They all looked after her in concern, but Kara faintly shook her head when Daku went to follow her. The princess needed time to herself.
Tarsk spat and hissed at the screen in anger, before flicking a short glance at her. Kara barely registered it, shaken to the core by these allegations. Tarsk made one last furious exclamation and stalked from the rec room, his tail swishing violently in agitation.
Kara had a sinking sensation that she’d never be able to return to Catera. She glanced at the door that had just closed behind Tarsk, then back at Daku. She knew what loss was and she didn’t need more of it. Daku was right. She narrowed her eyes at him.
He quirked his lips, clearly knowing what she was thinking. “I think we have enough tension on board now, don’t you?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” she said whilst sliding out of the booth. “My focus can’t be split now. Too much is at risk for Tarsk and me to be at odds.”
He smiled at her, but it was strained as his eyes drifted back to the screen. “What’s going to happen now?” he spoke softly, not expecting an answer.
“We’ll survive and find a way through,” Kara replied anyway. “We have before. We can do it again.” She briefly held his hand before leaving the room to declare a truce with Tarsk. She didn’t think she’d be able to do more. Not yet, not since that footage had sparked all of this.
Had they linked her and the Crown? Kara had been careful to ensure that she’d had no direct contact with Isra or the queen when she’d acted as an aide. If the traitor had access to more information than the leaked vid, then there could be a larger security breach. The thought disturbed her, and she wished she wasn’t stuck on a freighter but could go and track down some answers.
For now, she would have to be content with coming to a resolution with Tarsk. She paused, hearing him in the med bay, but instead of going there she quickly climb the stairs back to the crew quarters. She paused outside his room, and before she could think twice, opened the door and walked in.
It was a mirrored copy of the one she shared with Daku, though he’d kept the bed as a narrow bunk, actually giving him some floor space. He’d activated the chair and pulled it up from the floor and the table was folded down flat. She stood still, uncertain why she’d come here and not gone straight to see him in the med bay. She drifted forward, trailing her fingers over the closet doors.
She lightly touched the bed and then turned to the desk. She quirked her head, slightly puzzled by the odd-looking off-white, thin rectangular objects stacked together on it. She stepped forward and looked down at them. A flexi could be that size and thinness, but you wouldn’t stack that many on top of each other. Besides, she knew Tarsk didn’t have multiple flexi.
She hesitantly reached out and touched the top one. Traced her finger over the smooth faintly woven surface. She blinked as she finally identified it as old-fashioned paper. She blinked again, wondering why he had it, and why he was even writing on it. She paused for a fraction of a second before picking the sheets of paper up, compulsively smoothing her fingers over the unusual texture of the paper again. It faintly crinkled under her touch, and she carefully smoothed it out before she started to read:
I am truly sorry, Kara, for failing you.
I have fought beside you, with you, and for you, and against your stubborn resistance. But I have never once meant you harm. You have become my dearest friend. My Kara cub. Kit Kara, to me you are my family. My pack when I was without one. My strength and my passion for life are constantly buoyed up by your presence. Knowing what you have persevered through, and yet seeing that you manage to still embrace the world and protect it, has always stunned and amazed me. You have faced death, from others and yourself. You have bowed down with grace and released your emotions to the Tavashan powers to be able to serve the unknowing citizens of our Empire. And you have done all of this without once asking for praise or recognition.
Kara slowly lowered herself into the chair, her hand going out to steady herself on the back of it as her eyes remained glued to the words Tarsk had written.
In your place I would have crumbled and given up,
I know, because I was about to. I have never told a soul, but the day before you first came belligerently into my life at Queens Central Hospital, I was on the verge of quitting.
I missed my sister; I missed my pack. The Onyx Zone was not like my home. The hospital was strict and bureaucratic. I had dreamed of becoming a renowned household name in medicine, but I was crumbling at my first important appointment. I was a mess, and ready to give up.
Then this young woman burst into my world, turning it upside down, only I didn’t know it at the time. You stared at me with old, painful eyes that scrapped against my nerves like a scalpel.
Terrified and scared that I would betray you to the Fleet.
Isra left you with me, and despite everything, you did not fall to pieces. You watched me and I have often wondered what you thought of me in those first moments.
I had found my reason to go on. The hospital mattered no more, helping you became my priority. And you showed me how to help the Empire, without needing the accolades and awards. Knowing we were a team, working together, has meant more to me than my cubbish dreams of glory and riches. Serving the Queen has been a privilege, but it pales next to our friendship.
Please forgive my mistake. My monumental oversight has left you exposed and vulnerable. It is the very last thing I ever wanted to happen. I have devoted myself to keeping the Elites existence a secret. To keeping your changes safe away from the world.
And yet I am the one that has failed you, failed us all. I did not wipe the security feeds on Gaklun Two thoroughly enough and you are the one paying the price.
I am so sorry. I have spoken to Isra and will be resigning once her safety has been assured.
You will always be my Kara cub. Ferocious and deadly, observant and yet bemused by others. Always seek out the best in the galaxy—
The letter stopped, unfinished. Kara stared down at it, the old-fashioned paper crumpling in her hand. She rubbed at her chest, trying to ease the choking restriction. The feeling of tears was still such a foreign sensation for her; she kept thinking something was seriously wrong. And there was, just not with her body.
She paused and her head rose. She missed Tarsk. These past few days of stilted politeness, of frozen words and narrowed looks, had been painful.
She missed her friend.
After carefully tucking the letter into her jacket she spun and strode out of the room. Tarsk would stay with them, and she knew how to make that happen.
With purpose, she strode through the ship, her feet silent against the metal grating. She knew he was in the medical bay. As mediocre as it was, he was trying to upgrade things where he could. With the cramped confines of the ship, it didn’t take her long to reach him. She stood silently in the doorway observing him, and with the distorting lens of her anger drained away, she could now see how the strain had been getting to him as well. His fur lay flat and dull, a faint sheen of oil in it, hair clumped together, and in parts shedding and thin. Her chest constricted again, the tight feeling increasing. Both of them had been suffering. If she hadn’t gotten angry, if Daku hadn’t prodded her into this, if she hadn’t poked around in his room, they may have drifted apart. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Even if she had to trick him. Which she fully planned to do.
Stepping into the room she made an impatient sound. Time to enact Operation Friendship, she thought, suppressing the urge to soften her gaze.
Tarsk’s ears flicked towards her, seconds before he swivelled to face her. He looked at her warily, but now that she knew to look, she could see the pain hidden deep in his large eyes.
She rubbed her chest before she could stop herself; the ache increasing.
He immediately narrowed in on the movement. He took a hesitant step towards her. “Are you in discomfort?” he asked stiltedly, but his pupils enlarged.
“Yes, my chest has been feeling tight,” she said, keeping her voice neutral.
Instantly Tarsk morphed into the dedicated doctor he was, their current issues temporarily suspended as years of habit and training came to the fore. Within minutes he had her on the diagnostic table, scans running, muttering to himself. She let him fall into the routine, memories coming to her of the many times they had done this. Though back then she’d been the resistant one, sullen and uncooperative. Resentful of the implants, her modified DNA, and the bio-cybernetic sinews that replaced her muscles. All from the hellish time when she’d been a child locked away in that Dark Raiders base. She frowned at the thought of the place, a memory tugging at her. But then Tarsk muttered and turned back to her, his ears low to his head.
“Are you sure about the pain being located in your chest? The scans appear to be all-clear.”
He clicked off the diagnostic scanner, and the room fell silent as the faint hum of the machine stopped. Kara lithely sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the table.
“Of course I am. It aches, so very tightly,” she said quietly, watching him carefully.
“Tsk, there is no reason for the pain. Nothing I can find. Your systems are good, and everything is functioning at optimal levels,” he concluded, but his eyes did not stray to her. They remained fixed on the medical readouts.
“There is more than one reason to cause a chest to ache. You taught me that. When my emotions came back in full force, you told me what it meant to feel, to cry. That being sad could cause physical pain,” she ended softly.
His head snapped up, gaze locked on her.
Kara slowly reached into her jacket and pulled out Tarsk’s letter, raising it to chest height, right over where her aching sadness was held tight.
His whiskers twitched forward, his tail flicking. His body held taught. Waiting on what she had to say.
“I hurt not from the degradation of my augmentations, but from tears of sadness and remorse that won’t fall,” she said. “I don’t want you to go, Tarsk. I never wanted you to feel like you had to do this.” She shook the letter to underline her words, willing him to listen, to understand.
“I betrayed you though,” he whispered achingly, staring at the letter.
She snorted. “I’ve been an idiot to even think that. Yes, I was upset and...frightened, but I didn’t have the right to take it out on you. I wanted someone to blame though, and I stupidly lashed out at you. Please, forgive me, because I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. I don’t want to lose my best friend either.”
He blinked slowly at her, his eyes softening, his fur ruffling then smoothing out. “Forgiven, Kara cub. Always.” He then paused and flexed his hand. “You have Daku now, though,” Tarsk said, slightly turning away from her.
She sighed, the sound drawn out long and loud and rolled her eyes. “He can’t replace you, no one can. You’re my best friend. My family too. Who else will provide such great reality checks?”
He flicked his ears towards her, tilting his head to the side in query.
“Remember the time I was fixing up some documents held very securely by a particularly paranoid councillor, about some misguided and bothersome questions the Scribe wanted to remain buried and unasked?”
“The Arknar incident?” His tail settled as he wrapped it around his lower leg. “The one where you almost got caught out because you mixed up his schedule?”
Kara huffed. “That one. And I didn’t mess it up, he deviated from it. How was I supposed to know he was going to suddenly come back to his office with Doctor Laxarn?”
“Because you’re our sneaky and clever undercover operative in the council, of course.”
“Morus, never sticking to the plan, that’s what,” Kara said, referring to both the Morus councillor and Tarsk.
“Humph,” he snorted. “I seem to recall it was you desperately calling me for help. The great and sneaky Shadow being reduced to hiding in a small cupboard underneath a bench, waiting for me to be a diversion.”
Kara glared at him in mock anger, and inside the hard knot of worry began to loosen and unravel the more they reminisced. Tarsk wasn’t pulling away from her. They all made mistakes. The Arknar incident had been but one of hers. Eventually, her bio-cybernetic nature would have been discovered; she could not hold the release of the security footage against Tarsk. She would have slipped up at some point, and someone would have noticed her unnatural skills. It wasn’t worth losing her friend over. “Well, I at least retained my dignity,” she said. “Unlike when you had to barge in on them.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. When you finally slipped out, you were pressed back against that moving mural art wall. You’re skin turning ten different shades of pink and green while your skinsuit barely keeping up with the changing pattern behind you.” He waved one paw encompassing her, mirth rippling his fur. “I don’t know who was more discombobulated that day, you for that wall, the councillor for being interrupted, or Doctor Laxarn for having to keep spinning to see me.”
Kara quirked an eyebrow. “And what about you? You spouted some of the most inane and senseless things that day about, what was it...oh yeah, something to do with using bite bugs to deliver vaccines. You made a whole thing about it being such a waste of time working on individual people. That the council should just send them out en masse and get it over with. I swear Doctor Laxarn was about to question your sanity and license to practice medicine!” Kara started laughing, the sound startling her into blinking.
“And then Arknar started nodding along.” Tarsk braced himself next to her, leaning against the diagnostic table. He tipped his head back at the memories. “Ahh Eternities, Jocelyn’s face at that point was priceless. She’d thought Arknar and I had both lost it,” he chuckled. “She kept slowly sidling towards the exit, looking at the councillor and me like we were contagious.”
“But she didn’t run out. It’s like she couldn’t help herself watch and see if you could become any loonier.”
“Ahh, my skills at theatrics are renowned.”
“Uh-huh, if you were a two-year-old.”
He clutched his paws over his heart, throwing himself into it. “Oh, you wound me, wound me I say! Tsk, how could you betray my fragile beating heart so?”
Kara nudged him lightly with her foot. “You were supposed to get them out of the room, not keep them there in stupefied, morbid curiosity. Do you know how much I had to struggle not to snort and give away my presence?”
Tarsk tipped his head to the side a gentle considering look crossing his face. He reached out and bunted the top of his head against hers. Kara returned the Morus expression of affection, closing her eyes and pressing back tears.
“You were beginning to feel again, even back then. You didn’t realise it though, did you?” Tarsk murmured.
Kara opened her mouth, but nothing came out as she realised he was right. Her body and mind had been repairing itself, healing and adjusting, even then. “Thank you for being there for me, for all these years,” she said quietly and with honesty.
They both breathed huge sighs of relief as they straightened, but then they caught each other’s eyes and began to laugh and snort until they were propping each other up. Every so often one of them waved their hand vaguely through the air and made a half-spoken, but mostly laughed, remark about Councillor Arknar and Dr Laxarn’s expressions.
“Before you started talking Arknar around, they thought you’d lost it,” Kara gasped through her tummy-rumbling laughter. “You kept rambling on and on...and when you suddenly leapt to the other side of the room, they looked at you like they wanted to put you in a straight-jacket.”
“Ahh, but you got out unscathed.”
“I had to squeeze into the maintenance recess behind that massive wall of shifting visual art. I don’t know if my skin ever recovered from turning so many different colours in mere minutes. The puce was the worst.” Kara replied with a grin.
It set them off in a fresh round of glee.
Which is how Isra found them a few minutes later. She raised one eyebrow at them, went to ask a question and then appeared to think better of it and just shook her head instead, lines of strain still tight around her mouth and eyes. “So, you two have sorted things out I see. I take it you’ll be staying with us then, Tarsk?”
He grinned, flashing his teeth wickedly. “Couldn’t stop me.”
“Good, because I have not liked seeing you both at odds.” Isra smiled at them gently. “Our friends are important, more so than anything else. It was breaking my heart to see your relationship so strained.” She paused and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at them. “Though, mayhap I should keep a close eye on the pair of you, in case you’re up to mischief.”
Kara laughed in wonderful relief and smiled as she hopped off the diagnostic bed. “Tarsk is the one that better keep an eye out.”
He swatted at her, but she deftly leapt out of his way, still chuckling.
Isra watched the by-play thoughtfully, her hand tapping against her thigh. “As much as I wish I could leave you to this, unfortunately, I have some information that I need to brief you on,” she said resignation threading her voice.
Both Kara and Tarsk stilled, their gazes snapping to her, the mirth banished.