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Mot was a short, black-haired man who could be described using a number of adjectives that ended in -umpy. In general he had an ill temper. He had prominent muscles as a result of his fanatical weightlifting, a trait that had required a certain amount of adjustment in the years since he had lost his right arm during an ill-fated safari, as he put it: "Fighting a pair of alligators," which may not have been entirely true.
Nobody really knew the truth about his missing limb, and few entirely understood how he kept the agricultural warrens maintained so well with only one arm. But his resilience in the face of life's oddities had given him an occasional endearing quality, and Leonin visited him when he needed perspective.
Wisric, for reasons unknown to Stasko, seemed to cringe when Jarvis was around.
On this occasion, however, the commons around Mot's office was quiet; Mot wasn't waving his arm threateningly from the break table as he tended to do quite often, but his office door was open. A transmitter buried somewhere in the office was busily spitting out animated conversation.
In the doorway stood the hulking silhouette of Resfarl, one of the few who had managed the transition from Brush to Graevon. If there was one common thread among lunatics it was that they always seemed to prefer keeping the Atlas-types around.
Saunders slowed and took hold of a length of metal conduit near one of the terminals. “I’ll handle Resfarl; you guys go on ahead.”
Anya gave him an incredulous stare. “Have you lost your mind?”
Gregg paused in mid-step. He hadn’t expected an argument.
“Why in space would you want to split up at a time like this?” continued Rayleigh. “We have no idea what that Borius character might be planning.”
“Just go; don’t worry about Resfarl,” insisted Gregg.
“I’m not worried about Resfarl,” she stated flatly. “There is exactly one of him right now, and he doesn’t even have a gun.”
“I'll handle him! Find Graevon and stop him before he commits another act of genocide.” He made prolonged eye contact with her, trying to convey an inability to accept anything other than compliance.
It hardly made a difference.
“Skabs to that! What do you take me for?” She broke his gaze and gestured indignantly toward the other man. “Is this supposed to be some sort of idiotic macho act?”
He stepped back momentarily. “No,” he began, with marginally less certainty than before. “But this will give you time to--”
“Time to what?” she asked, clearly uninterested in any clarifying statements. “Worry about your misguided hide because you want to play the martyr while we're chasing down a madman? Fine.”
She fired two shots, one into each of Micco Resfarl’s knees. His legs gave way almost in unison, no longer coordinating their actions with the rest of his body, and with his weight unsupported he buckled over, clearly out of commission. “Have it your way. While you’re busy being irrational and clubbing him up with your new toy, the rest of us will be solving problems instead of creating them.”
Not for Human Consumption
Posted by ooaverage in Can't Publish This, Through the Commentator's Glasses on August 29, 2016
“And now look at me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but understand me when I tell you that you–all of you–are unique. Where I’m from, guys your size don’t communicate, they spend their days soaking up the sun and watching the world pass by from the branch of a tree.”
Virrn tilted his head. “You are the first I have seen alive who was not watching us from behind the clear walls. Excuse us for not knowing how to respond.”
“Look,” Kate said, shifting her weight to accommodate her bad arm. “Let’s just agree to give each other a little leeway. I guarantee you protocol for me is going to be a lot different than what you’re used to. I forgive you. And I promise I’ll try to behave.”
“You are willing to concede much.”
Kate let out part of a breath. “Story of my life. There’s a lot more where that came from.” She peered back toward the tear in the hull and the scattering rays of light that broke through the trees and found their way down to the metal walls. “Do you mind if I ask what you have to eat around here? It’s been at least three days since I had something filling.”
Virrn leapt from his perch on the haptic display and leapt onto Kate’s arm. Their eyes locked.
She recoiled momentarily. “Is that a no? I wasn’t intending to take your food.”
“You are sad.”
“You are observant,” she said, unsure how to respond. “And blunt. This is me giving you leeway, by the way. You’re a little more forward in your speech than I’m accustomed to.”
“What did you do to become sad?” Virrn asked, crawling farther up her arm.
“What did I do?” Kate wanted to brush him back down her arm, but decided against it. “I didn’t ask for it, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“It found you?” Virrn opened his mouth wide. “What did you do?”
“I–Nothing everyone else I know hadn’t already done. I played the game and lost.”
Virrn tilted his head.
“A metaphor. Sorry. Relationships. You’ve most likely seen them in some form if you were paying any attention at all during your education.”
Virrn crawled past her elbow and turned back. “What was it like?”
“While it lasted, there’s nothing that can compare to it. Now that it’s over? I’ve spent the last four months wishing I could remove my heart and eat it.”
“A metaphor?” Virrn said.
“I think so,” Kate replied. “Most days, anyway. You catch on quickly.”
Alternate Universes, Lizards, Relationships
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