Out of Reach

       Ah.No taking my side. He wanted to kill me himself. Vent rage, cleanse his reputation. And he was confident. True, he barely reached my chest (my nose, if he stood straight), but he was faster, stronger. I’d seen monkeys work rigging and knew their prowess. My shoulders still ached from hauling princes out of dust. But this bought time. A few minutes to scheme. "Objection!" The first mate yanked her spawn back by the tail. "The Snake isn’t a Hunter. No rule permits challenging outsiders." Did she fear he’d lose? I wished I shared her confidence. "No rrhule forrbids it eitherr," the pterosaur countered. Hoping the aliens would wriggle out and flee by themselves? Or that "formalised" murder would absolve him? "Firrsts happen. A Marrik weds a yi. A cub steals a ship—" The squid darkened, then regained composure and colour and released the hybrid. He pawed the ground, awaiting some signal. Focus. I knew his fears and wants, and my weapon of choice was words. Could I talk him down before he ripped my throat? "Well?" The pterosaur turned to me. "Do you accept? Rrhefusal is a full confession. With consequences." His claws scraped. Message received. "First, a question," I held his gaze. "In many cultures, the challenged chooses the weapon—" "No." He crushed my hopes. "Neverr hearrd of it. Each keeps theirr own arrms. Any arrms. No interrferrence, no aid, no hindrrance." He glanced at the first mate, then her spawn. The hybrid brat smirked, reached behind his back—then paled. Sure. His knife was gone, after all, traded for laudanum. My chances were up a few notches.Still he had fangs and claws and force. That seemed not enough for him as he dashed to his parents. But before he could say anything, the squid mother gurgled something to him, which made him stop dead in his tracks, tug his tail and ears and sway towards his father. Well, the older monkey looked at his mate, then away, and the hybrid shrunk even more. Okay, I could guess what was going on there. "Wouldn’t mind the kid winning," the Fox muttered behind the catchers, "but I’ve got a bad feeling about this. The overgrown worm might pull some trick." "This is wrong!" The Prince protested, predictably. "Krrchi, you hate violence! You’re the captain, you can change the rules!" Oh, fool. He still didn’t grasp the pterosaur’s precarious rule. Duels made him captain. He wouldn’t ban them now. "Change rrhules whenever they displease someone, and they become suggestions," the pterosaur said. "A poor captain you are, not knowing this." But the Prince wasn't waiting for an answer, because under cover of the commotion he was reaching for his notebook. Oh no, you fool, archiving me now was pointless, they'd just take the notebook and destroy me right there on the page! Probably. What would happen if anyone burned a sheet with a drawing? I didn't know and didn't care to find out. A rank-and-file squid snatched the notebook from the Prince's hands first, tucked it under its chest strap, and jumped back out of reach. That is, away from the Prince. It ended up closer to the King, who almost reached it with his sceptre, but the other squids guarding him immediately swarmed the staff and the man's legs, dropping him onto all fours (at least he didn't let go of Rose's pot). One squid, sabre drawn, leapt onto his neck. The Prince was about to transform, but stopped when the point of the first mate's sabre hovered before his nose. When did she get so fast from her family to him? "Don't interfere," she said very quietly and added something else I couldn't make out. But the Prince paled and burst into protest. "Leave my Rose alone, she has nothing to do with any of this!" Was the first mate threatening the Rose? Effective against the Prince. His companions were also outraged, but could only complain and growl. Still, perhaps it would be safer in the crowd now. The hybrid wouldn't start a fight there; it's awkward. So I risked moving closer, making no sudden movements. First, to stall for time. Second, to get an unpunished dig at the Prince. "You see, sometimes it's very easy to choose who to save and who to abandon," I said, trying not to gloat too obviously. "Me or Rose? Of course, save her. Don't interfere. I'd do the same in your place. You may even look away when they kill me." His gaze could have spawned a dozen of gloomies. Oh no, I didn't want him doing something stupid that would endanger the Rose. "Don't, really," I hurried to pat his shoulder. "Just joking. I’ll be fine." "Enough," the pterosaur intervened reluctantly. "The duel prrhoceeds now. No chatterr." He nodded to the catchers, and they parted the circle to herd me from under the tree into the open space between the trees and the mummies. Almost completely colourful, except for that same grey sinkhole and the shadow of the pit where the threads had been mined, about fifty paces away. I was memorising the terrain to collect any intel, any advantage. Right, I could retreat left and backwards, with about thirty paces in reserve, no more. What would the opponent do? Strangle or bite? Where were vulnerable spots of any of his species? No, I couldn't hit him in earnest, the others would hold it against me if I survived. So, the little runt needed to kill himself. Had to, absolutely. And quickly, before he inflicted critical damage. Right, and what were a human's vulnerable points? Too many of them. A human is one big vulnerability. Overall, I shouldn’t let him wrestle me to the ground, should protect my throat and eyes. I backed away in a safe direction. The monkey hybrid lunged forward. "Fool, you'll get it wrong again!" I dodged back and right while it was still safe, and shouted louder so everyone could hear. He wasn't listening to me at the moment. When he darted after me, I tried to grab his head, but he dodged too and bit at my arm. I jerked it back too, and his fangs got stuck in the knitted sleeve. Quick, keep talking! "Think you'll win and they'll immediately forgive and respect you? No! Everyone sees you're an irresponsible little brat!" I continued while he pushed off with his paws. "A real adult would take responsibility for his own mistakes! Krrchi told you as much, didn't he?" "Nothing would have happened if not for you!" He finally freed himself, crouched low, poised to charge again. I retreated another couple of steps. And he started shouting too. Good, while he was shouting, he could not bite. "It's your fault!" "Blaming a frien…" He jumped. I instinctively shielded myself and cried out when his teeth sank into my wrist. Agh, don't get distracted, breathe in, out, keep talking while the beastlet was silent, ask questions to make him speak… "Cowardly whelp! You were at the controls! Everyone saw it! And they'll remember, even if you kill me. Did I tell you to steal the ship? Say!" He spat me out, and although he was trembling with rage, he didn't attack again. "But until you said it, I didn't even think…" "And I thought you were smarter. Any fool would have guessed to take the ship! And you decided by yourself, didn't you? Did I force you? Answer me! Or are you going to lie again?" "N-no…" he rasped, more quietly. And stepped back. I could still wiggle my fingers, even through pain. Tendons not damaged, then. Right, don't let him recover. "And you lied to me that you could handle the rigging and controls!" "I didn't lie!" the hybrid switched back to shouting. "I can do it, it's just the cables… You probably sabotaged them yourself!" "Lying again? Did you see me? No. And no one else saw me either. And how would I do that? With what?" I held out my open palms towards him and glanced quickly to assess the damage. Well, well, not bitten through, just clear, dark purple tooth marks remained. A dull pain pulsed, but it didn't hinder my thinking or speaking. "I don't even have anything to fight you off with. Incidentally, Krrchi and Yu were roughly equal in strength and equally armed; their duel was fair. Yours isn't. If you do kill me, it will be because you have fangs, not because you're right. And everyone understands that. Except for you." He glanced back, but the other catchers were watching him there and had heard everything perfectly well, and he knew they could hear, and now he'd have to imagine their condemnation himself. When he turned back, I was already two steps closer and to his left. He recoiled to the right, turning to face me. Good, good, now I shouldn’t break eye contact. I kept the layout of the land in my head like a chessboard. "And the cables… Don't you know you have to check the rigging before departure?" "I know, but…" "Did I tell you to cast off without checking the tackle? Answer me!" "N-no, there were…" Don't let him talk, lest he inadvertently mention the sleeping draught. "So whose fault was it that the Captain died?" I stepped towards him again, and he backed away, tail tucked. Keep up the pressure. "An adult is someone who bears their own guilt, who admits they were wrong. Like your mother admitted defeat in the fight for the captain's post." He scowled. The first mate’s loss clearly stung him, but she was as much an authority for him as his great-grandmother. "So what should I do then?" he said very quietly and didn't move when I took another step. Good. Now, very close, I straightened up for effect and lowered my voice too. Everything I said next was meant for the brat only. "I still want to help you, just like before, even though you're so unfair to me." I grimaced, touching my hand. "No matter what those who are set against us say. They don't love you at all." "That's not true!" He raised his voice, but it sounded more plaintive than indignant. "My parents love me." "But did First Mate Yu encourage you just now, before the fight? Did she even want you to fight? Did she not believe you could win? And she didn't share a weapon with you. Did she stand up for you in front of the new captain?" I didn't know whether she had or not, but judging by everything, she was trying to be fair and impartial, cold-blooded like the rest of the squids, so they'd respect her and not think she got her position through the old captain's grandson's bed. "And did your father object to her?" I added at random. And hit the mark, judging by how the little one winced and shook his head. "And Great-Grandmother loved me too! She taught me to steer the ship, she…" he sniffled, "she died saving me." "Saving the ship," I corrected him. "No ship, no Catchers. No you? No problem." "That's not true!" He hunched over, stepped back, hugging his shoulders, on the verge of bursting into tears. "Ask her, then." I fell silent, letting him try to figure it out for himself, letting him suffer from the proximity of hope. “How?” he asked, squatting down again, or rather, collapsing onto his tail, taking a couple of steps back. Move three steps closer to him, let him retreat a bit further in the right direction, approach slightly from the left. Alas, I had no clue about the religious beliefs of this motley crew. All I could hope was that they had some fantasies about the afterlife, like many mortal races, and proceed by the hunch. “And where do you think she is now?” “Her soul is scattered across the world and has become one with it,” he replied, baffled, as if such basic knowledge should be obvious. A standard superstition it was, then. Good, I could keep going. “Exactly. And reaching her is quite simple. Just cross over to her.” “You mean… die?” he barely exhaled, then almost howled: “But you said… you wanted to help!” How could I stop him from screeching? Perhaps by example. I switched to a whisper. “Yes, precisely. To help you free yourself from suffering. What have you seen in this life? From the very beginning, you were different. Didn’t your fellow kids throw that in your face?” He shivered. If there’s one thing children can be relied on for, it’s their talent and eagerness to mock anyone unlike them. “Your bloodline ends with you anyway. How many children of mixed heritage are there on your ship? Everyone tries to keep families among their own, and for good reason. Yes, two completely different species can produce offspring, but it’ll be sterile. In other words, you’ll never have children. But no one told you that, did they? They still treat you like a child, they don’t trust you. Remember your anger with me? Others feel the same about you, and rightly so. And in their eyes, you’ll only redeem yourself by destroying the one responsible for the captain’s death. Yourself.” “But… how… That’s…” His eyes darted, the tip of his tail twitched nervously, his skin turned even greyer. “It’s really not that hard,” I smiled softly at him, not glancing at the pit behind him. “Look at me. Don’t be afraid. Hold yourself together. Literally, like now, so your stupid body doesn’t resist. Without looking back, take five steps backward.” Actually, only three steps remained between him and the edge of the pit, but I gave the wrong number in case he panicked at the last moment. This way, he wouldn’t have time to. And to everyone else, it would look like an accident. I could even pretend to try and catch him. “And that’s it. No one will blame you, accuse you, or threaten to spank you like a child anymore. And who knows, maybe your great-grandmother did love you after all? You’ll find out for sure when you see her.” He shivered, lowered his eyes, but didn’t move. “It’s alright,” I continued, stepping closer. “Nothing to fear. Sooner or later, everyone goes there. Your great-grandmother wasn’t afraid when she flew into the shard’s path.” The mention of the old monkey, an authority figure for him, did the trick. The hybrid shuddered, straightened up, and after a deep breath, took another step. The thick white thread bent under his bare heel, and he tumbled down, managing only to splay his limbs and let out a squeak. The spectators stirred too, someone even gasped. But the little brat hung in mid-air. The blue gloomy had grabbed him by the belt! The hybrid jerked once, twice, half-heartedly. Falling from that height, face-first, wasn’t appealing. The traitor gloomy squeaked from the strain, stretching into a comma, but flew higher and sideways, away from the danger. And, of course, there was nothing nearby to throw at the bastard. The catchers didn’t favour long-range weapons either. Fine then… “Interference in the duel!” I announced loudly, glancing at the captain and the first mate. “Remove the outsider and let us finish.” The squid darkened, then lightened, alternately tucking its tentacles. Utterly torn, she seemed, between laws and traditions on one hand, and on the other, her offspring, for whom she still cared, albeit in her cold-blooded way. The captain froze, too. Choosing whom to sacrifice? Their deliberation was cut short by more shouting. Then the Prince, already in blue, dashed toward the pterosaur and the squid. His guards must’ve been distracted, watching the blue gloomy. But he wasn’t attacking, he didn’t even draw his sword or resist when a pair of ordinary squid caught up and grabbed his arms. He just shouted across the field: “Snake, I challenge you to a duel! I don’t know what you’ve said to Kai, but you’re wrong!” What? No, I didn’t need this. “Captain,” I turned to the pterosaur, “please restore order. Mustn’t we finish one duel before starting another?” He tilted his head, blinked, but stayed silent for now. Understandable. The little monkey cub dug his own grave by demanding a fight to the death, and once he was gone, his mother would be completely unmanageable. But the captain was the guarantor of order. He couldn’t break the rules. Now he’d reluctantly rein in the Prince… The first mate squid turned nearly white. “What orrderr?” the pterosaur grated, looking between me, the Prince, and the first mate. “There’s no rrhule forr this. No one’s everr had two people wanting to kill them at once. You’rrre the first. Why not let you fight now and finish the first duel laterr?” Damn it. He had wriggled out. Let him think he’d won. I could still… “Rrefuse, and you admit the Little Prince is rrhight,” the captain added. I knew. Perhaps it’s safer to accept. It wasn’t like the Prince would actually kill me. Driving him to suicide wouldn’t work, nor was it necessary. But shutting him up must be easy. I nodded. The pterosaur waved a wing, and the squids released the Prince. The catchers slowly sheathed their blades but didn’t go far, standing ready. The Fox listed what he’d do to me if I dared touch his friend; the Rose watched silently, unblinking. “Thanks,” the Prince whispered as he passed me, heading to the centre of the field, and winked. What? What did he mean, and why go so far? “You said rules can’t be changed, or they lose their power,” he began in clear, loud voice, turning slowly on his heels a dozen steps from me. “But why follow rules if they make everyone suffer? Why can’t you all just cancel them? You’re shard catchers! You save lives, so why take them? Krrchi, you don’t even like duels or raids. Yu, you don’t want to lose your son, you love him, in your own silent way.” Ah, so that’s it. He had jumped into this just to be heard by all parties at once, even if it took a fight. And I had played right into his hands, freeing him from extra effort and the risk of losing his head before getting through to the pirates. But he shouldn’t think I’d let him off unscathed or allow him to sway the victim and defuse the conflict. “And you think you’re saving him?” I followed him, addressing the crowd. “It’s pointless. And cruel. Life for him now will be endless suffering. And not just for him. Are you sure that by rescuing this young pirate, your blue slimeball isn’t sparing the culprit behind innocent deaths on other planets, where this lad will later raid for supplies?” “But these are the last shards,” the Prince countered eagerly, turning to me. “The catchers can settle on any unclaimed planet and provide for themselves.” “After a life of adventure and risk, will they want to plough the dirt? And besides,” I wasn’t about to back down, “he’ll die anyway, just later. Like all living things. It’s the law of the universe. Life is unnatural. It only persists while struggling with all its might. The moment it stops, everything ages, crumbles, rots. Look around.” I nudged the thread underfoot with my shoe. “Humans call it the second law of thermodynamics. Pity the Geographer didn’t come, he’d confirm it.” “That’s not true!” He stopped, slowly turning as I circled him. “What’s not true? That seas dry up, butterflies die, trees wither, rocks erode into sand? That everything breaks eventually?” “Yes, but before that, they all, both living things and objects, have time to make the world better, more beautiful, to be useful or create something new…” “Which will still break and vanish! And the planets saved by our hospitable catchers will die too, just slower, from other processes. And what doesn’t break on its own, grateful descendants or passing visitors will finish off when resources run low. Like on this planet, for example.” I gestured at the landscape. “If you hadn’t confused the locals, trees would still grow here, and new patterns from distant descendants of those butterflies would appear! But you disrupted the natural order…” “What’s unnatural here?” I readied my final blow. “I just reminded them they have a choice. Which they made themselves. And by the way… You’re not the one to talk about natural laws, you ridiculous, non-aging imitation of a human. How old are you? Why don’t you obey time?” Just in case, I positioned myself between him and the edge of the clearing—so he wouldn’t accidentally fall into the shifting dust again in his distress. “I…” He drew in a noisy breath and stumbled. Checkmate. When he spoke again, it was pleading, almost defensive. “I don’t know why I’m like this. It wasn’t my choice. But if I became an ordinary human, I’d try to make the most of each and every day. I’d still spend my time, like now, making the world better and admiring it.” “Iformaybe… Those are just fantasies, and they don’t give you the right to decide what’s best for mortal beings or what they should do with their remaining lives! Kai!” I shouted toward where the gloomy had already lowered the hybrid brat to solid ground near his parents. He wasn’t rushing to them, hunched over, but had stopped resisting the blue ball. “No need to wait for the duel. Now you know what to do, and are free to do it anytime. No one can stop you!” “Stop it! Kai, don’t listen! No, no…” The Prince clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. Then, a flicker—and the sword blazed in his hand. Had I pushed too far? The catchers murmured but didn’t intervene as the white streak of the blade shot toward my face. Reflexes failed me again. I jerked back, but too slow. The air seemed too thick. I wouldn’t make it! The blade whirred past, air rushing over my nose. Then the ground under my foot gave way. The edge of the pit—I remembered too late, flailing as I fell. And I couldn’t retreat into the notebook! Then something yanked me back by the arm onto solid ground. The Prince, of course, sword already gone. Nearly dislocated my shoulder, but hauled me up with no visible effort. Enhanced form, no less. The moment he released me I sank on my knees, too stunned to stand. And this was what recklessness meant. Why by the void did I agree to fight him? I could’ve just said that neither he nor I were catchers, so we weren’t bound by their laws. But no, I got angered, didn’t think it through properly. Though… Wait, no. I could still turn this mess to my advantage. I stayed seated on the ground. But victory could be celebrated just fine like this. “So,” I declared as loud as possible, “I’m right, then? Since you couldn’t find the words and resorted to trying to kill me out of desperation?” I glanced sideways to check on the main target, Kai. Still there, staring intently at the Prince, then at me. I allowed myself a crooked smirk. See, kid? Told you I was right. But the Prince didn’t look disheartened. “Actually, I didn’t attack you,” he said, raising his voice. “I just swung my sword in the air. You all saw from the side,” He turned to the monkey brat, then to the catchers on the other side. “I wouldn’t have reached his head even if he hadn’t stepped back. There was still a full step left.” “Yeah, there was a gap,” both of the monkey’s parents confirmed. Of course, they’d prefer the Prince’s victory. “So what?” I hurried to stand, putting myself on equal footing with my opponent and slightly above the witnesses to sound more authoritative. “Big deal, you missed. The fact remains. You struck at me.” The spectators edged closer, forming a semicircle. The squids bubbled indecisively, unsure whom to support. “That wasn’t a strike!” He spread his hands. “It was just a show, an example of what I was going to say next, because I’m not finished yet.” Then he turned back to me with a triumphant smile. Oh, please. Let him think he was better at arguing than I was. “Yes, perhaps in some sense, you’re right,” he began. Oh-ho. In some sense, eh? “All living things must die. But at the same time,” He raised his voice for the crowd. “all living things want to live. They strive to stay longer in this beautiful world, to see more, do more, leave a mark that outlives them… Yes, exactly! That’s how you tricked the inhabitants of this planet. They wanted their personal marks to last longer, the work of each individual. But in doing so, they stopped working together. They were creating the soil, the body of their planet, maintaining balance, the cycle of renewal. But at your urging, they put personal gain above the collective, and their whole world withered. And with it, their own patterns faded and crumbled too. Kai, don’t rush! You can—” Right, time to intervene before the monkeys start hanging on his every word, literally and figuratively. “Scale. It’s just a matter of scale,” I raised my voice so the little monkey could hear me. “The collective result might last longer than any individual or even an entire society, but in the end, it’ll perish along with them. The same rules apply to entire civilisations.” “But no one wants to follow them willingly. All living things strive to live. You yourself jumped back pretty quick when I pretended to attack you!” He laughed, and the catchers around us joined in with a chorus of amused noises. Naturally, the pterosaur seized the chance to avoid bloodshed. Specifically, he tilted his head and asked if I wanted to personally refute the Prince’s claim that avoiding death was natural. The hint was clear. Yes, I could refute it—and test what happens to me post-mortem in the process. But, without guarantees… no, I wasn’t ready to take that risk, not even for a moral victory. So I stayed silent. The Prince, however, didn’t. “Kai, what about your great-grandmother? Yes, she’s no longer here in the flesh, but you know what? She’s always with you, in your memory, in your heart. As long as you remember her, what she told you, what she taught you—she’s with you. Her words and deeds are part of her too, and they live on in you. So don’t rush to die. Let her stay in this world through you longer. Alright?” “Alright…” The little monkey smiled back, then suddenly grimaced, hunched over, and burst into tears. His parents closed ranks around him, shielding him from the crowd. Well, fear had caught up with him. No more diving into quicksand now. Defeat burned, pressing in from all sides with stares, snickers, and the throbbing of my bitten hand. The Hunter and the King were loudly congratulating each other, and the Rose in the King’s hands just waved a leaf at her Prince. Oh no. The Rose… All the arguments I had just hurled at the Prince and the catchers replayed in my head, but now applied to her. While living beside the Prince, she had, too, remained just a little sprout, a child by her people’s standards, as I had mentioned in that story on the K’ivi planet. And I had encouraged her to take the next step, to become more like an adult… Now would she grow up, mature, age like her kin? And die again? Because of me, again? I scrambled to my feet and headed for the Rose. Had to fix something. The King, spotting me, lifted her higher against his chest just in case, and the Hunter tensed. No time to wait for a private moment, better now, spectators be damned. “Rose, listen—” I tilted my head up at her. If only I could shorten that half-baked monarch… “Forget everything I told you on K’ivi planet. I just wanted to hurt you and make it easier to kidnap you later, so I could grab you without worrying about tearing your roots again. Stay as you were, please. Don’t learn to walk.” “But I already—” She frowned. The King and the Hunter exchanged glances, then stared at me, but at least they didn’t interfere. Small mercies. “And anyway, whatever your intentions were, I’ve thought about it, and you were right about some things. And don’t worry about kidnapping, I can put down roots anytime, and good luck trying to drag me away then.” “No, like your kin, over time you’ll lose the ability to root.” She snorted, folding her leaves, then leaned over the edge of the pot, eyes wide with surprise: “Why are you telling me this? And how do I know when you were really lying or meaning ill, then or now?” Damn persistent little b— being. Should I tell her the truth? Get her scared properly? Or… “What’s going on here?” The Prince broke away from negotiations with the catcher leaders. He had already tucked the notebook back into his belt. So they had returned it. “You tell her, then. She’ll listen to you!” I snapped at him. “If she keeps learning to walk, she’ll grow up. And follow all mortal beings.” He fell silent. So did the Rose. “It does not scare me,” her voice piped up suddenly, bright and firm. “My Prince, you said it yourself. Spend every day with joy and purpose. I don’t want to be a burden or put you in danger. And I don’t want to stay in one place anymore, seeing only a patch of sky and your letters. Even if it’s not for long, I want to see the world, meet new friends, learn. And be useful. Don’t worry, this is my choice, not the Snake’s. You’re not angry with me, are you?” “No, of course not,” he whispered, then straightened, grinning. “You know I’ll always respect your choices and stay by your side. Besides, what if the Snake is wrong?” Suddenly, the Fox yelped, jumping in the air and twisting to look behind him. “It—it moved,” his voice trembled. What “it”? The only thing there was the head of the mummified caterpillar. Had it slipped off a thread? Then the head clearly, slowly parted its jaws and closed them again. What the—? A few exclamations came from further off. Another mummy had crumbled to dust, though no one had been near it. And its head rolled suspiciously toward the crowd. Were they… not dead yet? Had the Prince, while appealing to the catchers with the full force of his persuasion, also stirred the caterpillars’ senses? True to form, he went over to chat, stroking the head’s forehead. Friendship therapy incoming… “Do you understand me? Are you still alive? Do you need anything?” A feeler slid out from a groove in the head, drooping. “Barely audible,” the Prince explained to the onlookers, “but he—or she, hard to tell—was just in a very deep sleep. Now they’re terribly sorry, I couldn’t make out for what, and asking for leaves to eat. This is wonderful! A real miracle!” He turned hopefully to the pterosaur. “Please, Captain Krrchi, order your crew to feed the poor thing.” "You mean, to waste precious leaves on a rotting corpse?!" the nearest rank-and-file scuiq spluttered in indignation. "Don't you see? If you save these caterpillars, they'll pollinate the tree flowers—" "—And finally we'll have morre trrees," the pterosaur finished for him. "Meaning the leaves will neverr rrhun out. I orrderr you, gatherr leaves and brring them herre. Now." The catcher bubbled uncertainly, retreating a couple steps toward the first mate. Still considered her the higher authority, then? If time allowed, this could be exploited to spark a minor civil war. At any rate, the squid first mate detached from her family and approached the captain, though the monkey and her offspring trailed after her. Just in case, I positioned myself behind the King, both to stay out of their sight and to eavesdrop on where the conversation might lead. "Captain," the first mate's voice held no trace of irony now, "I understand your desire for a peaceful solution. But how many planets will the fire crystals destroy before new trees and leaves grow?" "We'll ensure none," the pterosaur replied. "We'll leave the hive here. The ship will interrcept tarrgets using the rremaining sails. With care." "Darling," the monkey husband interjected suddenly, "perhaps this is for the best? If there's a chance to save others... Remember, you too—" "Yes." She seemed to deflate slightly. "I'm alive because of one young marrik's mercy. You saved me from culling, shared your own food... I remember. Fine." Her skin rippled with patterns, relaying orders to the other squids, who dispersed with varying enthusiasm toward the distant tree to gather leaves. Damn it all. The caterpillars hadn't died, just gone dormant, their unused organs withering away. Only the heads remained. Now they'd feast, regrow their guts and silk glands, and start anew... No, once I regained my strength, I'd be annihilating dead planets outright, without leaving anything for power shows. "And we can live on this planet," the pterosaur continued preaching to his subordinates. "Once we've caught the last crrystals, those who wish to settle may establish themselves here." "If the revived inhabitants allow it," the first mate muttered skeptically, having slithered over unnoticed. She prodded a caterpillar's head with a tentacle. The thing twitched a feeler in response, making her recoil. "After cycles of us felling their trees." "Wait, I have another idea," the Prince chimed in, undeterred. He turned to the hybrid’s father. "You said Captain Gran fled her homeworld, meaning her planet wasn't destroyed by the crystals. It's been years, so maybe it's safe to return now?" "No!" the pterosaur and monkey barked in unison. "But... why?" "Grandm— Captain never wanted to return," the monkey said reluctantly. "Only ever said there was nothing left for her there." "And we don't even know where it is," the new captain added. "Rright now, we've other prriorrities. Yu, prrep the ship forr autonomous patrrol. Mayri, plot the trrajectorries and rrelay caretaking instrructions forr the caterrpillarrs to the quarrterrmasterr." The catchers' landing party scattered, climbing the tethers back to the skiffs. I just hoped that amid the chaos, the first mate had forgotten her plans to dispose of me. The pterosaur turned back to the Prince. "Thanks forr yourr help, but you'd do more good saving otherr planets elsewhere. And most importantly," He jabbed a clawed finger toward me, "keep betterr watch overr... I'm inclined to agrree with Yu about him." With that, he too headed for the tree, scaling the trunk with ease. "I suppose we've done all we can here," the Prince said quietly, taking the Rose from the King. "Let's go." What, right now? Blast it, another few hours, and I could've torched this tangle of threads. Then again, best to leave while the catchers were still dazed. I stuck to the King's shadow on the way to the boat, avoiding attention, and hunkered down behind him in the hull to mull over past, present, and future. So had I helped revive an entire planet again? No. I'd been thwarted, so it wasn't my fault... "Incidentally," the King's voice boomed above me, and the cheeky sod tapped my head with his sceptre, "we never finished our discussion. You tried to kill me! Dangled that tripe about royal honours to strand me among those ant-spiders so they'd eat me!" "Actually, he has a point," the Prince backed him up. "You knew enough about the araformics' customs to spin those details, so you must've known what would happen." Oh crap. With all the duels, I'd had no time to prepare a plausible lie. Now I'd have to improvise in seconds... Right, got it. I adopted a mournful expression, bowing my head. "I did know, Your Majesty, but... You saw those insects: soft tissue inside, hard shells outside. Their kings aren't harmed by such embraces. Yours is the opposite. I thought the queen was intelligent enough to recognise the difference. Perhaps that night, she was so... overcome, she forgot herself and treated you as an equal." Only a slight lie: queens of that species did decapitate their mates after harvesting enough genetic material to lay eggs for cycles until the next suitor arrived from another colony. The King gaped. This angle had clearly never occurred to him. The story was working; time to twist the knife. "Maybe she truly loved you and never meant harm? Maybe now she thinks she has destroyed you and is consumed by remorse..." ...just as I had done to the Rose. Why had it come to this? I hadn't meant to... "Perhaps you should," My voice cracked, the words lodging in my throat. I finished in a whisper: "go back and comfort her?" He crumpled, on the verge of tears. A droplet hung from his long nose. "Better yet, write to her now!" the Prince urged, fumbling one-handed for his notebook while clutching the balloon strings. "Tell her you're safe and ask what she really thought!" The King sniffled, blew his nose into his poncho, and eagerly accepted the proffered paper and pencil. Fine. Then why did I feel so wretched? Ah... I hadn't been talking about him and the bug queen at all, but myself and the Rose. I'd been the one destroying her and... regretting it. What a foul, gnawing feeling, that remorse. How did humans bear it? Or was I meant only to obliterate everything, incapable of preserving what I'd grown to cherish? And talking nature and essence. Why should I love anyone at all? The desire to possess, to deprive enemies of what they hold dear—that made sense, mere facets of selfishness. But on the Planet of Roses, I had abandoned all plans just to keep her alive, even if she'd never be mine. Perhaps that was the heart of it, not saving civilisations per se. Perhaps. Unfortunately. Because that led to an obvious conclusion about how to free myself. Slowly, without sudden movements, step over the bench past the King toward the Rose, who was admiring the planet beside the Prince. She'd glance back without fear, with mere irritation. After all, I had been near her often lately without incident. Brush her fragile petals lightly; she'd recoil, indignant, but before she could root and flee, I'd seize her head, snap the stem, crush her faster than she— But even imagining it, pain wrenched my chest as if I'd torn out my own guts. No way to of doing it actually. No, I couldn't. Better to start by destroying my own physical form. Or pursue more promising, pleasant options, such as genocide. For now, breathe. In, out. Relax, don't let your face betray your thoughts. "Snake." The Prince's voice came from the bow. Blast, had he noticed something? "Hang on. Once we reach the asteroid, I'll draw you an ice pack for that hand. Works wonders on bruises, scratches, bites and the like. Then I'll ask to see the Geographer and the Businessman again and get more plasters while we're at it."