A tiny ball of warmth pressed close to the base of the roughly chiselled stone wall, whiskers twitching and tiny heart fluttering at its core. It found its way in little jerky hops through the darkness, navigating by nose and by paw. They were tiny pink things with long slender fingers, designed to sift through the dust and dirt and carry anything interesting back to its mouth. Every few hops it would pause to dig, tiny tongue flicking out to suck in a morsel of something barely edible amid the dirt and hair. The room reeked of neglect and filth.
Several feet of distance lay between it and its home when it finally paused to survey the room. It swivelled its tiny round ears and lifted its narrow head to taste the air. Nothing new came to it, but a persistent feeling of potential danger still hovered over it. There was something strange about the deep shadows. A presence, perhaps. But it had no distinct smell. Uneasy but satisfied, it once again dropped to all fours, proceeding to rummage through the debris.
A moment later, the creature jerked up on its fleshy back feet, tiny sparkling eyes briefly locking onto the shadows. There had been no sound – there still was no sound – but the shadows had just subtly rearranged themselves, setting off warning bells in the rodent's tiny skull. It waited, twitching with worry, but silence and stillness remained frustratingly constant. It sat still longer this time, but all the same, the peaceful atmosphere eventually brought it back to placidity. It settled back into a crouch, then shuffled forward, turning its attention once again to the floor.
Sift the dirt.
Sift the dust.
Sift sift sift.
Bingo. A stockpile of leftover meat, not quite old enough to be rancid. The delicious stench set its whiskers to quivering and it rushed forward, all too eager to gather what it could. Shifting shadows or no shifting shadows, this was a treasure that couldn't be ignored. Food! The nest was within scampering distance, even with full cheeks, and there was more than enough to feed one so small.
A whisper of movement shivered through its whiskers an instant before it could bury its paws in the mess. Startled, it backed rapidly away, squashing its tiny body against the stones, and gazed desperately into the darkness. Its nerves burned with the sudden knowledge that something – something definite – had moved, and not far away.
Settling dust?
A hiss like escaping steam set the fur on its back to rippling. Something wet sparkled, hung for a moment in the air, and then spattered the stone.
Not settling dust.
Fueled by prey’s instinctive terror, the rodent dropped free from the wall and turned in place, little feet shuffling over little feet, before darting back towards its small tunnel home. Beneath the fear was the faintest hint of disappointment, but going hungry for a few hours was infinitely favorable to dying while eating.
If it could make it back across the stones in time.
A few feet behind its retreating body, a second pair of eyes slunk forward through the shadows, catching the filtered light and glinting scarlet. This one was no prey, and far from foolish enough to let a potential snack simply run away. He growled low in his throat, covering the distance in two long strides before striking. His wickedly clawed hand, covered to the fingertips in thick silver-blue fur, shot forward and sweep the creature off of its feet, straight into the air. It tumbled for a moment, and then landed hard on its back, eeping and flailing.
Too late. Its senses screamed.
He pounced.
Scrabble, thwack, crunch.
In the quiet afterwards, he hunched for a minute, fingers resting in the rodent’s fading warmth and waiting to see if it still dared to move. When it didn’t respond, he settled more comfortable, letting out a snort that ended in an almost disappointed sigh. He lifted his hand, curling his fingers and lifting the tiny crumpled body to his slender furless muzzle for a quick sniff. Blood and meat, with a bit of dirt blended in, but nothing particularly foul or dangerous. Satisfied, he tossed it into the air, catching it in razor edged teeth, and then downed it with a snap and a gulp.
There really was no way that he could have let the tiny creature go. Food had often been slid under his doorway. Usually once a day. At one point in time, it had been twice. Now, however, he was lucky to see a meal before the hunger pains started clawing at him all over again. There wasn’t much of a choice but to turn predatory on whatever small thing decided to carelessly explore his tiny domain.
Especially if said creature was intending to steal from his last meal, even if it had been something he’d been rationing for days. It was the longest period between feedings that he’d seen yet.
He wondered if he’d been entirely forgotten this time.
A few tough bones snapped between his back teeth. With a grimace, he gulped down the rest of his meal and then wandered back to his usual corner. It was the only spot in the entire cell where there was any decent light: a tiny crack of pale yellow that filtered in from underneath the heavy stone door. He settled back on his haunches, sweeping a hand across the cold, uneven floor in front of him before settling his chin on his forearms. His scaly wings swept the air behind him with a heavy rustle, shaking away dust motes and dirt, and then settled in an arch over him.
Another sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes. He fell back into silence, cocking the scaly fins at either side of his head, pushing his drooping ears forward in the vain hope of funneling sound in from outside. Something.
Anything.
Not this tortuous silence.
Anything.
O
Two floors up, Jamet Tygren traversed the halls. Between his slender backwards-jointed legs and soft-padded paws, he moved as quietly as the air currents from the vents along the floor. It was his pride that most would never notice him unless he was being looked for, especially since he was something of an outsider within the Tieke nation. His long tapered tail, protruding from a tailored slit in the heavy fabric of his off-white cloak, swished behind him as he moved.
Just the same as the other employees at Novarc’s Hybrid Project Facility, Jamet was a tikedi: one of the lightly built, sleek-furred sentients that inhabited the single known continent of their world. As much as he had in common with his co-workers, however, his stealthy tread was the only thing that really kept him from being gawked at at every turn. Where Tieke tikedi were typically a pale blue or green, highlighted with white and deep gray, he was covered in an almost black shade of midnight blue, from the thick shaggy mop of hair that trailed to the middle of his back to the very tips of his six toes, he was as dark as the ocean depths. The only deviations were his pale blue eyes and the bare skin of his muzzle, a trait shared by all members of his species, regardless of their homeland.
His brow, as usual, was furrowed in concentration, but for once the information on his datapad’s screen wasn’t a data chart or a schedule or even a memo. It was a schematic of facility’s seventh level.
Today he was making a house call.
He paused for a moment and narrowed his eyes at the fork in the halls up ahead. While it was economical, there was one problem that Jamet had always had with the design of the facility. It had been carved directly into the stone of an island a few miles off the northern coast from Tieke City. As usual with tikedi architecture, this meant that there was very little in the way of adornment to any of the structure, and therefore very little in the way of landmarks. It was very easy to get turned around when the only thing to see was white-gray stone, occasionally broken by a snaking cable along the floor or the brilliant glow of a lighting panel in the ceiling.
At least there isn’t much to trip on. He pondered, consulting the map once more before choosing the passage on his right.
He glanced along the doors to either side, silently reading off the organically curled scrawl of tikedi numbers and letters and matching them to the text on his datapad’s screen. He took a turn or two, barely convinced that he was indeed going to right way, and then, finally, his eyes locked onto what the numbers he was looking for. His shoulders sagged with relief.
He took a moment to compose himself, dragging claws quickly through his hair and double-checking the numbers one last time. Satisfied, he stepped up to the wood, cracked his knuckles, and knocked three times, then waited patiently.
There was the expected scuffling, just audible behind the heavy door, and then a call of "One moment!" The voice rang a bell in Jamet's distant memories and he smiled.
The lock clunked heavily and the door swung open, revealing a tall and slightly disheveled tikedi. He did not seem to be giving his full attention, even though his dark eyes were locked on to Jamet’s face. The room behind him was the same bare stone as the halls, but a pair of grayish-green woven baskets – one partially unpacked and the other filled with what looked like thin paper scrolls and possibly wooden bowls – told Jamet all he needed to know about why.
Jamet smirked. His old friend hadn't changed at all since their last meeting, years before. The only silver in his otherwise pale blue fur was where it had always been: at the tips of his ears and along his back. Soft white marked his throat, vanished down his collar, and splashed between his eyes, matching the tousled mop of hair atop his head that drifted as if it had its own life and intentions.
Alas, perplexity still showed clearly in every inch of his narrow face, and Jamet settled in to jog the man's memory.
"Derec," a voice called from somewhere in the room beyond, "Who is it?"
Before Derec could respond, Jamet stuck out a thin-boned hand. "Jamet Tygren. I don't know how well you remember me. It has been a very long time.” He gently inclined his head. “But I was the only tikedi from Harangin province in the entire biological studies class of Tieke City’s Northern Sector. I’m hoping I’d stand out a little bit. Hello, Derec."
Recognition dawned. "Teyka’s blessed light. Jamet!" He whirled around briefly, "Raena, it's Jamet! Er..." and back again, "...s’an old friend. Jamet, hello!" The two lightly tapped noses and hands in greeting. "It's been years! Come in, come in. I thought you were in the Border Guard...?"
"I was." Jamet ducked past Derec and out of the hall, keeping his eyes on him until the door had been closed. "It's a long story. I'm here now."
"Evidently. The Hybrid Project, yes? Don't mind the mess. We just moved in a few days ago and things still aren't in order..."
"I understand, don't worry." Jamet looked up and around. As usual, Derec's definition of a mess was typically Tieke and rather laughable. The apartment would have been easy for a Harangin tikedi or even a Tarsin to clutter up – after all, it consisted of a mere two rooms: one for sleeping and one for living – but Derec’s “mess” was contained in one corner. The floor was clear save for the baskets and an elegantly woven rug at the room’s center. What little furniture they owned – a thick mat on the floor of the sleeping room and a set of shelves in the living room – was set up and ready for use. Crouched amid the clutter was a female tikedi. She was beautiful by Tieke standards: her fur was a magnificent glossy white. Like Derec, it was at it’s brightest at her throat and forehead, but instead of the solid sky blue that covered him, she was striped from head to toe, each band fading in from the white until it knit together with the others into the solid gray-blue stripe along her spine. Her eyes and shoulder length hair matched the stripes. She met Jamet’s eyes and opened her mouth in a polite tikedi grin.
Jamet gave a quick bow in her direction. “Greetings. I hope you don't mind my intrusion."
"Not in the slightest." She got to her feet, brushing dust off of the green and white gown that covered her from shoulders to knees, then crossed her arms, still smiling faintly. "So you know Derec?"
"Years ago.” Derec clarified, “When I was studying. He was in biological studies with me before I switched to linguistics."
Jamet shrugged. "I'd noticed Derec's name on the roster of new employees and thought that I'd stop in and welcome you to the facility. It's always nice to see a friendly face."
"Indeed." Derec gestured to the rug. "Please, have a seat. This is Raena, my mate, by the way."
"I thought as much. Good to meet you." Jamet settled into a comfortable crouch on the carpet, laying his tail flat to the ground behind him as an extra support.
She slid past, tapping Jamet's fingers with her own as she did. "I'll make us something to drink."
“Ah.” Derec gave a thoughtful little bob of his head before following her. “Good plan. I’ll give you hand.”
With a sigh and a smile, Jamet settled in to wait for them. "Thank you very much, both of you."
O
Ezra's eyes shot open.
There were footsteps outside.
He clambered to his feet, heart racing, and pressed both hands to the door, calling quietly at first, a high-pitched whimper. As the sounds grew closer, he broke into a loud full-throated barking cry, scraping his claws down the stone until it hurt.
Dust crumbled off of the door as a key turned in the lock. Ezra threw himself back, staggering away to let salvation in.
The door opened and blessed light flooded the room.
O
Raena had gone back to sorting through the basket of scrolls.
Jamet dipped his muzzle to the wooden bowl cupped in his hands, lapping up another mouthful of the unfamiliar pale pink plant juice that Raena had prepared. Krellberry juice is what she’d called it. From what she’d said, it was a regional delicacy from southern Tieke.
Jamet pondered it a moment. It was sweet, but with a bitter aftertaste that left an odd tingling on his tongue. Unusual, but not bad. He took another sip.
Derec was still talking of a past Jamet only vaguely remembered. He nodded from time to time, elaborating where he could and admitting his cluelessness where he couldn't. It had indeed been a long time, that much was becoming more and more apparent, but so too were memories of why the two had been friends in the first place. Derec laughed.
Half an hour had passed. As much as Jamet was enjoying the conversation, pleasantries had unfortunately not been the only thing on his agenda for this visit. He slowly sat up, trying hard not to provide too awkward a transition in conversation. “Ah, wonderful days those were. Alas, it’s today now, and time is passing all too quickly. Sorry to stop you, but I really should give you what I was meant to before we find ourselves at sunset.”
"Oh?"
"Yes.” He was digging through one of the pockets at his hip. “I genuinely came to give you a housewarming. I say that honestly. However, a few others overheard that I knew you and, since it was on the way, I was asked to deliver a message to you. That's all." He fished the datapad out of the deepest pocket of his cloak, scrawled a few commands into its flexible plastic command screen with a claw, and offered it. "From Katrix."
"Katrix." Derec nodded, suddenly serious, and took the pad. He read.
Jamet finished his portion of krellberry juice in a gulp and placed the bowl on the floor by his tail, then settled back to wait while his friend read.
Presently, Derec looked up, all traces of cheer abruptly gone. "You can't be serious."
“In the old days, not so much.” Jamet's blue eyes lifted to meet Derec's. "Now, I’m afraid so.”
O
Time had passed. There was no way to tell how much. Not long was a guess.
Ezra's head hung limply, chin touching his chest. His eyes were closed and there was nothing to see but darkness again, only this time, it was his eyelids in the way, not a prison door. Thank the Tieke goddess. He almost wished that he could open his eyes, but his head was still pounding from whatever he'd been drugged with and the darkness was comforting for now.
Ghosts of memories - memories of people, memories of things, all from far back before he'd been locked away - flickered around the edges of his mind as he slumped there, breathing steadily. It had been so long since he’d been free. Faces came, but names escaped.
There was something cold around his neck and something else around his left arm.
Distantly, he heard something beeping, or maybe it was just the fog over his mind.
And voices. He hadn't noticed those before.
There...
... yes, that one was familiar. He could picture a face and almost remember a name.
"Ezra?"
His eyes opened a crack, letting painfully, wonderfully bright light in.
"Wake up, now."
O
"Really, there's no need for that. You wouldn't have been summoned if there wasn't a need for you. Plans have simply changed for the initial term, that's all."
Derec was visibly sulking, his eyes stony. The datapad was back in Jamet’s hands. "I'm going to be a babysitter for the project that should have been mine from the start. When I made that donation, I strictly requested that Katrix was never to take off and use it without me. This is unacceptable."
Jamet's tail thudded lightly against his toes in barely controlled annoyance. He leaned forward, almost nose to nose with his old friend. "First, that’s unfair. It was Jahrd’s decision to go ahead, not Katrix’s, and you know it. Second, You're not babysitting. Read the note again if you have to."
"I understood perfectly the first time. Jahrd had no reason to move forward without informing me and Erdrell Kitani had no right to take my position. That hybrid was mine to train and now I’ve got eight years’ worth of someone else’s mess to clean up. You know I want nothing else than to help this project succeed, but now I'm second hand to my own work. When I was hired I was told I would get to build the language base from the start, not be delegated to fixing mistakes! This is something that anyone could..."
Jamet cut him off. "Obviously not if they hired you. Look, what do you expect to gain by delegating the gathering of your own information to some intern? We can’t take short cuts. We need to do this right this time. Katrix hired you because he believes that you and no one else can pull this off, and quickly. The preliminary work’s just been done for you, is all. What you’re being offered is the advantage of… "
"But I don't need an advantage! I know how to do this..."
"No one’s questioning that. All we’re saying is that Kitani’s dead, the project’s a full year behind schedule, and we need you. Now."
A silence fell. Derec continued to scowl at the floor, irregularly tapping his own tail tip against the stone. Jamet sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
Finally, he spoke. "I really think you should just come see. I think it would do a lot of good.”
“But…”
“Just come see. He’s exactly to spec, and, quite frankly, gorgeous when you think about the possibilities. Really, it’s not nearly as bad as you think.”
Derec sighed. "I know. I suppose that… it just feels like I’ve had my identity taken from me. Maybe it sounds incredibly selfish, but if you knew how much I’d put into this... I’d researched everything. I have scrolls full of procedures and plans. I was ready, just waiting for the call. Then someone else got the go-ahead and…” he raised both hands to the open air, “...there goes five years of work. I don’t want to waste time rewriting what was already perfect. I want to be able to get in there, do it right, and finish this project properly. Then we can finally move on to ending this war.”
"We all want nothing more than to go back to peaceful times, Derec." Jamet reached across the space and laid a hand on Derec's shoulder. "And if you help us, we’ll get there. Really. Just come and see."
O
"That's a good boy."
Ezra let his head loll sleepily onto his left shoulder and blinked a few more times at the blurry face a few inches in front of his own. "Ardre.."
"That's right. Ardreal. You remember."
He purred softly.
She brushed something soft and damp across his nose. "Poor thing. I was wondering if they'd ever let you out. You're filthy." She sighed. "I'm sorry for having you sedated, but we need you on your best behavior. They'll be..."
"Ardreal. Move him. They're coming."
"All right!" she called back. She knelt close to Ezra and ruffled his hair. "Okay. Be a good boy, Ezra." Gently, she lifted his frail body into her arms. "This is your big day."
O
Derec trailed behind Jamet uncertainly, brow creased with mixed thoughts. “He’s exactly as planned, you said.”
“Exactly.”
“He’s even flight capable?”
“We’ve only been able to test him within the boundaries of the facility, of course, but from what we’ve seen, yes, they’re fully functional. He has the skeletal structure of a tikedi, but bones as light as a tekk’s. He takes to the air wonderfully.” Jamet’s chuckle was a low rumble, almost a growl. “You really should stop worrying, Derec. You’re here now, he’s here now, and….” He looked up, gestured with one hand to the door at the end of the corridor. “We’re both here now.”
“It’s just… I want this to be perfect. What they’d proposed to me was brilliant. It truly was.”
“You’ll see.” Jamet paused to tap in the access code. "Brilliance doesn't begin to describe it." He grinned and stepped aside, gesturing graciously for Derec to take the lead. "After you."
Derec nodded, apprehensively biting his lip as he stepped past Jamet's view and into the final stretch of corridor. Beyond, he could just make out the room itself and the glint of glass. He took the last few steps, and then froze.
“Wow.”
Behind him, Jamet smiled.
Behind the glass barrier, Ezra’s head lifted, gazing at them with eyes that had gone beyond the dark brown of Derec’s own and into scarlet. His hair was the same tousled mess, but a shocking black, and his fur was same exact blue, only solid where Derec’s was marred with white and gray. Still, to look between them at that moment was to feel as though he one were looking between reality and reality’s reflection in the water. Distorted but unmistakable.
Derec, his expression gone from annoyance and worry to one of pure awe now that he’d literally been faced with the truth, crouched close to the glass and laid a hand on it. Jamet could almost see the joy spark in his friend’s eyes when Ezra dutifully mimicked the gesture, laying identical hand to identical hand. Behind the hybrid, great scaly wings lazily spread and stretched.
"Goddess..." Derec whispered. He jumped when Jamet's hand touched his shoulder.
"Meet Ezra. Congratulations. He's all yours."