Inside four walls of smooth gray concrete, there is no sound: no muffled conversation or faraway steps, not a creak or a breath.
An unreal moment, oppressive and foreign, as if time itself has stopped and left Amethyst behind.
Alone, she sits on a wall-mounted slab of metal serving as a terrible chair, her wrists still cuffed behind her.
Just how long have I been here...?
She's used to the quiet as for the most part, Midnight Iris is silent and peaceful, but not quite like this.
There's always wind, rustling of leaves, sounds of bugs or birds, something, anything... to tell of the passage of time, to show that life still exists around her.
But now… all she hears are new, foreign sounds, despite them originating from herself.
The minute sounds of pulsing somewhere deep in her chest, the sizzling in her surface-level veins, and the rustle of her antennas’ whiskers as they slightly move as she listens.
Hearing, the most starved sense in this space is also one of her strongest ones. Just sitting here, listening to the deafening sounds of her own body is excruciating.
Amethyst opens her eyes, and gazes across the windowless space of monotony, to the single source of light—of interest in the room.
A tiny LED light, embedded into the ceiling, shimmers down painting the space in its gloomy light.
Like on a planet whose radiant lifeline was dimming, a moment away from being snuffed out, on the brink of plunging existence into the awaiting deathly cold and endless darkness.
How long do I have to be here?
The light flickers.
Amethyst stands and slowly walks past the floor-bound bed, past the latrine, and to the steel door, reinforced with additional metal plating.
A routine she had repeated more times now than she could keep track of.
Should I...?
She stabs its indomitable surface with the end of her elbow blade, letting it slide down it before her arm limply swings back down. Not even a scratch is left behind, for now.
I could easily break through this door...
She looks at her elbow blades, twisted to the front due to her cuffed hands behind.
The long crystal blades are flush with blood and dripping guts onto the floor.
Amethyst flinches, her hands rattling the cuffs, and as she blinks her eyes again, her blades are clean once more.
Did that man... die?
Is this my punishment?
If they want me to be here... in this room all alone...
I will...
I will wait.
Even if I want to leave, I must stay.
I feel… bad.
Maybe waiting... will make it better.
He said... be strong.
I don't think Frank wants me to escape.
But what if... I don’t feel strong?
Amethyst retreats to the back of the cell, and sits down once again. Her hand blades scrape against the stone wall.
I’ll try my best, Frank.
She closes her eyes.
Sounds of countless animals, whines, yelps, and barks fill her hearing. Talking, shouts, and a camera flash.
She's in a cage with a strong, whirring, and sparking, electrical force field around her. There is a crowd of people surrounding her cage, but nobody she recognizes.
As she tries to tilt her jail to escape like before, the electric walls close in.
Regardless of her blades, of her fight, the walls painfully shock her and squeeze until she can no longer move.
Then, the white electric light is gone, and darkness falls, her darkvision activates. She recognizes this cargo hold, but she cannot move. A tremendous force presses her against the steel wall.
Again, trapped in place, stuck in a small space, left without options other than to watch.
Before her, is a steel hoverplate, deactivated and secured down, with her mother’s crushed body tied on top, bobbing up and down, smacking against the hard surface again and again.
Green oozes from her body and pours out onto the floor in great gushes with the sick rhythm of the spaceship’s violent movements.
The blood keeps on flowing, without an end. The open space gradually fills with her life force, on this endless lift-off.
Soon, the space resembles a pond, rather than anything indoors. The blood of her Mother keeps rising, all the way up to her neck, and yet, she still couldn't move.
Couldn’t do anything to alter her fate.
Clack!
Amethyst awakens and shoots up, blinking her weary eyes against the growing light, as the iron door opens further with a squeak and a screech.
“Come with me.”
A man in a blue and black Galactic Police Uniform greets her at the doorway.
He has a heavy-looking large black pistol holstered on his waist, partly covered by his jacket, and on the other side a rubber baton with a telescoping handle.
Amethyst walks out of the cell, the officer gives her space to exit and gestures with his hand down the corridor.
“This way, walk and I will follow.”
He waits for Amethyst to start walking, and then does as he promised.
They journey across the dismal hallway, filled with holding cell doors, matching perfectly to the gray and depressing walls.
“Take this right.”
She’s escorted through doors opened by a guarding officer to them, that leads to the interrogation wing, labeled in a small plaque above the door.
“That one, Room C3, go inside.”
Without a word, Amethyst approaches the door that lacks a handle, dark blue with a white ‘C3’ painted on it.
As if automated, or somebody watching her every move, the door slides aside when she approaches it. She looks inside.
A sterile and bleak space, with a metal table and chairs, with a man sitting in one already.
“Come inside, sit down for a while.”
As Amethyst enters the room, the door zooms closed again.
She sits down at the table, facing a large wall-size mirror, and before this mirror, across the table, is the beholder of an unkempt comb mustache and sharp eyes.
“I’m Officer Jensen. Amethyst, correct?
“Yes.”
The officer leans back, lifts his feet on the table, and crosses his legs.
He rifles through the notes in his hands, however, the stack of papers is quite big and he manages to almost decorate the floor with them.
He sighs and sits down properly, leaning forward on the table, and rearranges the stack of papers again.
Interrogation... it’s kind of like an interview... right?
I’m not supposed to speak if not asked, I think... but...?
“Is the man... is he okay?”
Jensen looks at her from underneath his brow, then claps the paper stack against the table.
“Alright, we can start from there if you wish.”
He singles out a slip of paper and slides it across the table in front of Amethyst.
The photograph is of a man with a happy if not a little sly smile. His eyebrows are quite massive and fuzzy, though perhaps seem exaggerated by his hairline that follows their borders.
Pressed tightly against his cheek, is a brunette woman, she radiates joy from the shapely crevices that her smile forms on her face.
“This is the victim, Vic Chokran and next to him, his wife Hoana, do you know either of them? Have you seen them prior to this incident?”
“No... I don’t know them. Though… I think she… Hoana tried to get to me in the cafe, shouting something at me, before somebody took her away...
I can’t remember what she said or who took her away...”
“I see.”
“Is... umm... Vic, okay?”
“He fell into a coma at the site and has been unconscious ever since. However, I hear his condition has stabilized.”
“A coma... when will he awaken?”
“It is unknown if he will ever wake.”
“...”
“So, let’s go through the incident next. Can you tell me what exactly happened at the cafe known as ‘Served hot and cold’?”
Amethyst sighs and tries to untangle her thoughts. The events prior were clear, but after her frustration and turning around to see the man impaled… it gets blurry.
As if that timeframe was compressed into a single second that passed in an instant when she tried to recall it in detail.
After that second, suddenly she was already arrested and on her way to the Station. And before she could even wrap her head around everything, she’d been detained in a cell.
“It’s all really… hazy. I was just having a three-course breakfast with Frank, and suddenly I felt this… weight on my blade. I don’t know how he came to be... impaled.
After that... screams, shouts... I... I think I accidentally ruined a lot of furniture... then Frank... he came to hug me and help me... Then we were arrested...”
The man writes something down, and then continues:
“There are reports of a muscular female maid at the scene, eyewitnesses say that the man bumped into her, or that she pushed him.
Video footage from the scene also supports their claims, though the act wasn’t captured from favorable angles. Do you remember seeing this maid?”
He shows a surveillance camera picture of the maid, whose eyes are only visible, in the high-quality picture, a few strands of curly blond hair are visible despite her covered head and face.
Her cheeks appear full underneath the fabric, like she's holding her breath, or has some habits of rodents that hold food in their mouths for extended periods with the power of their facial muscles.
So… it wasn’t my fault?
“Yeah, actually, she came at me very aggressively right after Vic... but then... then she stopped... Hoana from jumping at me... Yeah, I think that’s what happened.”
“I see. If you see this maid, please let us know, we did not find her at the scene, and the other staff claims that she did not actually work there. When questioned, they did not know who she was.”
“Oh... Yeah, I will help in any way I can.”
“Additionally, Hoana is also missing. We don’t think the two of them are related in any way, but if you happen to see her, please let us know.”
“She’s not with her husband at the hospital...?”
“No.”
“I see...”
“Moving on... I understand that you and Frank are somewhat famous, do you have any enemies, somebody that would wish you harm? Some fans who are a bit too clingy...?”
Amethyst thinks for a moment. “I did have my first fan meet-up just before we went to the Cafe, but I don’t think there was anyone like that.”
“Nobody comes to mind? What about jealous rivals perhaps...?”
Amethyst realizes that one party fits the question.
Can I tell them? Can I trust them with my species’ secret?
The reason Intergalactic might still be after me?
“I... I can’t really think of anyone in particular... but, Intergalactic probably has something against me...”
Jensen writes down notes. “The Organization... is that so, what makes you say that?”
“I... I originally escaped their wildlife facility in Viridian Macula with Frank, so... perhaps they have a grudge against me? I heard everyone there were arrested after that, though.”
“Hmm, Frank also echoed the sentiment, and we are currently in the process of pulling up any information we found in that raid to see if there’s anything related to this investigation. Nevertheless, thank you for verifying his statement.”
“Oh... no problem.”
“One final question, who knew that you would be in that Cafe? Did you tell anyone, make any social media posts or the like?”
“No, just me and Frank, and his parent’s housekeeper who suggested the place knew, but I don’t think Pirjo really would wish us any harm.”
“Hmm...” The Officer taps his pen against the table and seems to read through his notes.
“You mentioned having a fan meetup before it? Did some of them follow you perhaps? Or-”
“Oh! Actually, many of them asked what I’d do today, so I told them I was on a date with Frank, and that we’d go to the Cafe next.”
“Did you use the Cafe’s name, when you told them that?”
“Y-yeah...”
“So... from that group, the word could have spread so that literally anyone could have known that you were going to be in that Cafe later in the day, is that right?”
“...”
The officer clicks the pencil’s head over and over again.
“I’ve got no further questions, so, if you’ve got nothing more to say... let us move to the final matter at hand.”
“Okay...”
“Pertaining to this incident, we’ve deemed this to be an unfortunate accident on your part, so we don’t hold you liable for what befell in that cafe.
We don’t see you bearing any malicious intent against Metropolis or its citizens, so we don’t have any reason to hold you here longer.
However, to ensure this doesn’t happen again, we’re enacting the Defanging protocol, and as per ISSA’s law on Sapient Species, article 7 on Dangerous Sapients, we have the authority to enforce it.”
Amethyst listens in silence.
The officer leans back on his chair, lifts his legs up once more, and gazes absently at the ceiling.
“The law states that all Sapients who are deemed a danger to the general public due to their innate abilities, and not out of malice or hostility towards other beings, suitable restraining equipment will be required for them to wear from the moment on that this is deemed necessary.
This affects the individual in question and all species that Sapient represents in all public spaces from that moment on.
Consequences for not following these rules are to be punished according to the article referring to Sapient species' negligence and posing a danger to others.
And in the event that the Sapient in question cannot be restrained or disarmed within conventional means, they are to remain detained until a way to do so has been found.”
“What does that mean...?”
He looks back with a level gaze.
“In practice, you are required to go straight from the station, to one of our partnered workshops, to have your blades made safe to be around by one of the means that the shopkeeper there suggests.
I’ll have one of our guys or gals escort you there personally, and you’re free to go once the procedure has been completed.
However, if it is deemed nothing can currently be done to make you a safe Sapient to be around, you will be sent to an actual prison cell, instead of our holding cells, until a solution has been found.”
“…”
“Simple stuff. Did you catch all that?”
“Yes…”
“Good. Then we’re done here.” Jensen takes out his communicator and checks something. “Come with me, and let’s see who’s available to escort you there.”
***
Frank sits on a comfortable sofa, leaning forward, propping his head up with his hands, blankly staring forward.
Despite the loud discussions of the waiting room and the noise of the G-TV, neither disturb his thoughts.
I wonder how Amethyst is doing...
It’s been four hours already...
Should I search for the Police Chief? Ask around?
What was his name again, Argo... something?
Maybe I can convince him that he owes me a favor for what I did for him...
Even if in reality I’m even with him after he erased my criminal record...
Frank stands up and looks around the room. There are three exits to different corridors, ‘Reception’, ‘Exit’, and to the right, toward the heart of the complex, ‘Permit handling’.
None of them look especially promising, he can see through the glass door that Reception has at least 40 people before him, if he’d take a service number now… it would still be hours to ask there.
Frank decides on the ‘Permit handling’ and goes through the door, which he has to manually pull open to pass through.
On the other side, is a white-walled corridor, with a series of numbered doors lined up evenly.
Walking further ahead, he finds another waiting space, with its own reception that assists a throng of customers already there. No other personnel around other than the busy receptionist.
From here, there are four exits, one the way he came, two doors that require an officer’s access to go through, and one corridor going right again, unlabeled.
He goes through the mystery door, which has a glass window with metal wires inside in a net pattern, and finds… another corridor.
At the end of it, is a keycard door, however, there’s a turn to the right in the middle.
As he approaches the turn, he starts hearing a conversation.
“Oh, long time no see! Your operation finished already? I thought it’d be for the long haul.” An unknown female voice says.
“Well… it would have been… if I didn’t mess it up.”
That voice… who is that? Do I know her?
“Ouch… you gotta tell me the details later.”
“You’re the first one I’ve run into who hasn’t read the report already…”
“R-really...? That’s funny...”
Frank glances down the final possible corridor and it too, has a door disallowing citizen entry at the end of it. He sighs at the sight, the end of his little snooping, ending up in failure.
But maybe he could still ask them about the chief's whereabouts.
The two women in the corridor are both in Police uniforms, the one whose back is to him is completely bald, and the person talking to her has black hair tied into a strict bun.
I guess I was mistaken, I don’t know anyone who looks like either-
“Hey, are you lost?” The one facing Frank notices him.
“M-me? I mean, uh- yeah.”
The officer waves goodbye to her bald colleague, who goes down the corridor toward the employee-only door, while the black-hair comes to Frank.
“How can I help you? What brought you all the way here?”
“I- I uh, I’m looking for the... permit offices.”
“Right, they’re at the corridor you came through to here.” She comes close to Frank’s side and points down the corridor and then gestures to the left. “Just on the left there, you can’t miss 'em!”
“O-okay, right, thanks...”
“Or, I guess you can’t miss 'em twice, now that you know! Be sure to stop by the reception first, or you’ll never get called inside! You don’t want to be waiting here all day, do you?”
“Certainly not… Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
“Alright, good luck.” She nods and walks down the same corridor as her colleague before her, taking a few running steps before disappearing through the secure door.
Damn it…
I was supposed to ask her about meeting the Chief but...
...
That was probably a bad idea anyway...
Frank returns through the Permit offices, back to the reception waiting room, hoping that his quick excursion didn’t cause him to miss Amethyst getting discharged.
It was only a few minutes... surely not...
As he returns, there’s no sign of her, or that the situation has changed. Surely she would have waited for him here… That’s what his interrogator told him anyway… to wait here for her.
He sits back down, staring into the void that is a plain white wall, but soon his eyes gradually shift to the Television. It’s playing ads.
“Hello, I’m Solis and this is my wife Shanivaar.” A man in a pristine white coat walking in a flower-filled meadow waves on the screen.
“Did you know our daughter, Friday, was born without the ability to smell?” The woman holds a hand to her nose and then looks distraught.
“Right, how terrible is that? Are you like our dear daughter, or perhaps your species cannot smell at all?”
“Have no fear! The best smelling apparatuses of the market are here, available at various local vendors near you!
Seek out any of our facilities for a free medical check-up to determine what sort of odor technology suits your face-space!”
“They come in many different shapes and textures, and if those don’t satisfy, sniff a custom order our way without further ado-r!” The woman puts on a massive sniffer on top of her delicate nose.
“Turn your Life around and experience the Scent of tomorrow—today! Smell you later at Smell of Life!”
Damn that Big Smell, have they no shame? All five basic senses should be a Sapient Right, not monetized to deep space and back.
The screen fades to black and stays like that for a disturbingly long moment.
Did it break?
Then, the inky blackness ripples, and a Communicator rises up to float like on a water’s surface.
“When you work with us, you’re invisible—out of sight. Introducing, Galaxy’s number one trusted data wiping solutions. Safe, secure, and works even in the farthest backwater planets.
Compatible with all known, and unknown Communicator models, our end-to-end encryption ensures total control, your data will be reduced to atoms with the press of a button or a single message. Free your data into its primitive particles and sail the starry skies without worry, or remotely back up to our secure servers in an instant, but only when you wish it so!
Business clients, please contact us for exclusive deals and special data-wiping technology options.
“Privacy Protector—Only a black hole would do the job better!”
The communicator sinks back into the blackness that turns into a swirl and disappears.
Seems like they don’t shy away from the public eye... I wonder if we could have gotten anything out of Luna’s communicator if it wasn’t for them.
“Citizen! Have you done your duty? Do not forget to vote in the monthly Legislative Enactment.”
A red-haired winged woman dressed in white robes flies onto the screen with the man’s narration.
“Only you can make Metropolis a better place! Do not forget to vote!”
The screen zooms into the scroll that she holds up.
“Here are the current bills that you can vote on until this Sunday:” showing a short list of five law changes, and information on where to cast your votes online or which place to visit to do it physically.
Frank sighs and continues to absently watch.
However, soon enough, the TV shifts to the news, and a clip about them at the Cafe plays, recorded by somebody live at the scene.
Chattering starts in the waiting room and heads turn one by one to stare daggers at Frank.
Some discreetly flag down officers who are passing by and whisper to them, but they soon return to their seats and the officers go on their way.
Oh great…
Escaping their gazes, Frank takes out his communicator and starts browsing it. As soon as he opens a new tab on his browser, suggested articles flood his screen.
“A bloody accident at a coffee shop, recent celebrities Amethyst and Frank involved! Victim still comatose.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Tyrchid Representative Amethyst brings the blades of her home to bear at a local cafeteria. “She just sliced her open!” See the traumatizing pictures of the victim!”
“A gory morning start for a citizen, the fastest fall from grace of a Sapient to date? Amethyst, the darling of G-TV arrested!”
“Are Tyrchids really just bloodthirsty animals? An insider provides another point of view with today’s incident – an analysis by an expert in Animal and Sapient Species behavior.”
Frank turns off the screen and slumps back on the chair, looking at the faintly blue tiled ceiling, before closing his eyes.
I hope my request for the Galactic Police to release a public statement of this incident goes through...
It’s not right if people keep thinking this was Amethyst’s fault...
Steps clink against the floor, in a rhythm that feels familiar.
“Frank... I’m here.”
“Huh?” Amethyst has appeared, alongside a young-looking officer.
“Why are you still cuffed?” Frank asks and shifts his gaze to the officer.
“Come with me, we’ll speak on the way.” The officer says and starts escorting Amethyst toward one of the keycard doors.
“On the way, to where?” Frank bolts up after them.
As the three of them pass through the door, the officer explains the situation as they walk. How Amethyst wasn’t deemed guilty of the accident, but she would still be taken to a workshop to be evaluated and in accordance with ISSA legislation, be made safe to be around.
“Oh... I see.”
An ISSA enactment, carried out by Galactic Police? How unusual, have things changed in my absence that much?
Amethyst looks to the ground and has been silent ever since they left the lobby, following orders, walking to wherever she’s instructed to.
Frank catches up to her with a few running steps.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She tries to smile, it’s a weak performance.
“I’m sorry I couldn't do anything to get you out earlier...”
“I’m sorry too...”
“But it wasn't your fault, you know that, right?”
“I do...”
They are taken through winding corridors by the officer until they arrive at an underground parking hall.
Countless Police Vehicles are in the large space supported by concrete pillars. Amethyst is guided to a hover van, the officer opens the doors to the cargo space for her.
“Do I have to…?”
“Yes. It’s the only vehicle we have that you’ll fit.”
“Okay…” Amethyst gingerly steps inside, and carefully sits on the side seat, hanging her head.
The officer swings the double doors closed, “You can ride with me at the front.” He gestures to Frank and circles the car to the driver’s side.
“Oh...”
Frank glances at the double doors, at the small blackened windows. He hurries to the front and takes a seat inside.
Between the two front seats, there’s a small porthole, covered with a sliding metal plate.
Frank is tempted to use it to check up on Amethyst, but decides against it, the officer didn’t seem too keen on entertaining the idea.
“What’s your name?”
“Officer Vasar.”
“Nice to meet you,” Frank says, only to be met with silence.
The radio starts playing some new pop hit single, though the female vocalist’s voice is as grating as a spaceship’s landing pad that’s scraping the asphalt at take off.
All of the lyrics are unintelligible until he hears the chorus “lalalala this is the dadadaday”, only then, does it click that he actually knows this song.
It’s not new at all, it’s just this artist’s version left so much to be desired that he couldn’t make out any of the squeaky words without knowing what the song was supposed to be beforehand.
It originates from sheet music preserved from the past that’s been covered and reimagined over and over by countless artists ever since its discovery.
Its bad condition left much up for interpretation, clearly, way too much.
I’ve heard so many versions, and yet this is definitely the worst. The Crimson Princess or whoever’s legacy this is, would certainly be ashamed.
If only to escape the radio, Frank hopes to reignite the conversation.
“So… how long have you been in the force?”
“A few years.”
“Ah, I would have guessed at least five, you seem experienced enough.”
“...”
lalalala-
“I was wondering, about this Defanging protocol… Since when did Galactic Police give ISSA the time of day, much less enforce their legislation?”
“Since before I’ve been here.”
“Right...”
Frank taps his fingers against the black plastic doorframe.
“And where are we going exactly?”
“To a workshop partnered with the Galactic Police.”
“Of course...”
dadadaday-
Frank sighs and leans on the window, content to just stare at the passing scenery, trying to tune out the radio to the best of his ability.
***
The Police Van stops at the front of a tall building, pastel yellow, a small sort of apartment complex with the first two floors being a mini-shopping center.
Frank and Vasar exit the vehicle and Amethyst is let out. The officer takes them inside, through the general lobby area, and to a shop on the right.
Its sign says: “Teral Lacrima – Workshop, tailoring, jeweling, general crafting.”
A sticker on the front glass states: “Certified Galactic Police partner.”
The inside of the store is rather small, it’s more of a waiting space, than a shop you could browse. A long dark brown counter with metal lined edges takes up most of the space, cutting the space in two, a door on the back wall hints that the majority of the space is taken up by the behind-the-scenes workshop.
Behind the counter is a stout man in an industrial apron, who tinkers with a pocket watch, a tiny screwdriver in his other hand. He lifts his gaze.
“If it isn’t little Vasar, back so soon? Given the uniform and the company you keep, I can guess what this is about.”
“What could you possibly mean? Maybe I’m on the market for more of Bafrouk’s special multi-timepieces.”
“Not with your paycheck, even if the Chief had an anniversary every year.”
The Officer starts to explain the details as we approach the counter.
The closer we get, the clearer it becomes that Bafrouk isn’t human.
He’s a Garanean, of the shorter and runic skin type, instead of the tall and shiny-skinned sort, like the receptionist at the Spaceship docks was.
On his exposed hairy arms and palms, red runes are inscribed on his skin, geometrical patterns that are of the same color as the species’ blood, though it was common to color and decorate your runes among Garanean and half-Garanean.
He still has the longer ears typical for their race, and a black bushy beard going nicely with his tanner skin tone, which are typical features of his kind.
“So, this young Miss will be my customer today?”
Bafrouk takes a sooty and dirty rag from the wall and wipes his rough hands on it. It’s unclear if they become cleaner or dirtier from the process.
Propped on the same wall, hanging from nails are various instruments, a powerful-looking drill, a metal saw, some chains, and even a gas mask, all tools of his trade.
“Yes.” Vasar uncuffs Amethyst and gives her space to come to the counter, taking a few steps back, and leaning on the counter.
Amethyst stretches her arms, finally free of her shackles.
Bafrouk reaches under the counter, and takes out incredibly thick gloves, looking like one could handle molten metal and even stop a small caliber bullet with them.
“Let me see your hands.”
Amethyst extends her hands to him, and he holds them in his. He feels them with the gloves and rubs their surface using his thumb while holding them.
“I see. I was right to wear these.”
He yanks on a blade, which doesn’t come off.
“Will you grow these back if they are cut off or broken?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Fascinating.” He lets go of Amethyst’s hands.
“May I see your arm blades?”
Amethyst starts to swing them on the counter, but Bafrouk stops her right one mid-air.
“Careful now.” He guides her blade away from a bonsai tree on the counter, a strikingly red maple tree. “She doesn’t need a trim quite yet.”
“Sorry...”
The Garanea guffaws, and places Amethyst’s elbow blades’ tips to rest against the table, Amethyst’s wrists resting on her shoulders.
He runs an open palm along the blade, and then on its sharp side too. Stiffly, he manages to make an incomplete fist with the thick gloves and knocks on the blade propped against the table.
“Yes, I believe we could cut your blades into tiny stumps—and call it a job done.”
Amethyst’s face darkens. “I-is there no other way?”
The shopkeeper laughs heartily. “Of course, that’s only one of the options, along with making them incredibly dull. However, those two are what most other shops would go with.
Shall I remind you, that you’re not in just any shop, you’re at mine.
Whatever you did, it would be equally criminal to destroy such beautiful blades.
I am a master craftsman, leather, fabrics, metal… anything you might need, I can forge and bend it to my will, so it’ll be no problem.
So, instead of defacing them, I can make protectors for your four blades, akin to sheathes for swords.
How does that sound?”
“Thank you, thank you! Sheathes, please! I wouldn't know what to do without them, my blades are an important part of me...”
“Very well. But unlike the other more permanent solutions, you must remember to wear them too. If these fine uniformed men and women catch you too many times without them, you won’t be asked to choose an option the next time you come visit me.”
“I understand…”
“Alright, as long as you promise me to wear the sheaths, I will get to work.”
“I promise, I’ll wear them.”
“Good. It shouldn’t take me too long to make them, I have plenty of ready sheaths and materials that I only need to modify for your needs and size.”
Bafrouk helps Amethyst’s blades down from his counter and then leaves to the depths of his hidden workshop.
Amethyst continues to stand before the counter, looking at the direction Bafrouk left.
“Come on, Amethyst. Let’s sit down.” Frank goes to her side, taking her arm.
“Oh... Okay.”
Vasar uses the Cas-juice machine and gets himself a drink, sitting down with them, but seemingly not interested in taking part in conversation.
“Well... all this certainly wasn’t in my plans for today.”
“I can imagine...”
“But don’t worry, this hardship will soon be over, you’ll get your sheaths, which will actually make life easier among other Sapients as well. So, it’s sort of a boon as well, isn’t it?”
“I suppose...”
“And once we’re done here, we can still remedy today, if you’re still up for us continuing of course.”
“Yeah...”
The smile Frank has kept up wavers slightly. “Just try to relax, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Huh? Frank?”
He just smiles back and goes to the counter. He calls Bafrouk over, and they have a silent and brief chat.
The temptation of eavesdropping on them by focusing her hearing passes through Amethyst's mind, but she decides to respect Frank's privacy.
“What was that?” Amethyst asks as Frank returns.
“Oh, nothing. I just asked for details for how long it’ll take.”
“I see...”
Officer Vasar has completely checked out of the conversation, just sips his drink and browses a magazine.
And much like him, Amethyst and Frank wait, chatting, looking around the fascinating various tools and apparatuses around, at the many muzzles, protectors, and masks, wondering just what kind of Sapients would use each one.
Bafrouk comes out of the backroom. “Thank you for waiting, they are done.”
Frank and Amethyst stand up and go toward the counter, he meets them on the customer side.
He hands the elbow blade protectors up to Frank, Bafrouk’s only up to his navel, the floor on the other side of the counter clearly being higher up.
He receives the two long sheaths made of thick fabric, colored metal-tinted orange, reinforced from the bottom with finely bent metal plating.
The sheath’s tough fiber surface produces a strange sensation on his finger when he runs a hand across its surface.
“Oh, those are… kind of cool actually,” Amethyst says.
“I’m glad you like them,” Frank responds.
“Huh?”
“Now, since Amethyst won’t be able to put them on herself, I would like you to put them on her, Frank. It’s best you learn to do that straight away.”
Bafrouk still holds on to the two smaller sheaths meant for Amethyst’s dagger hands. “Let’s start with the big ones.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” Amethyst lifts her blade sideways, toward Frank.
“Let me just…” Frank slides on the sheath.
“Now, just fasten all of the leather belts to keep the sheath in place. The one at the top is especially important, it’ll keep it from sliding off if the others loosen.”
“Alright.” Frank fastens the flexible leather belts laid out around the sheath, and then the final one, which fastens against Amethyst’s narrower armor at the very root of her long blade.
He lets go of the sheath, and it stays in place.
“Is that good?”
“Yeah, just like that. How does it feel, Amethyst?”
“I’m not sure… I suppose, it doesn’t feel like anything, since I cannot feel through my blades or armor.”
“I see, that’s good.” Bafrouk nods and walks around the counter, going back to his side of it. He puts the two smaller sheaths on the counter.
“All of them are worn the same, so once you’ve put one on, the rest should be no problem.”
“Alright.” Frank puts on the last elbow sheath and starts to work on Amethyst’s hands.
Officer Vasar just watches them from further away and then comes to the counter once they’ve all been put on. “Thanks, just send the bill as usual, Galactic Police will pay it in full.”
“Of course, a pleasure as always.”
“Thanks, see ya.” Frank waves to him.
“Blessings of Araltera to you.”
“Who is that?” Amethyst asks, halting their departure.
“She was our Goddess. The Goddess of creation and unity, promoting the holy unison of matter and people. She urged us to innovate, to experiment, to craft, tinker, and... to create.
To express ourselves, pursue new knowledge and technologies.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Let's go, Amethyst,” Frank whispers to her.
“I can see you doubt me. She wasn't a fake god like the Red Goddess around here, she was the real deal. Her abilities were beyond our world—exceeded our comprehension.
She lived with us, giving us counsel and her bountiful blessings.”
“Truly?” Frank says dryly. “I'm not a devout believer, but should you really be saying that about the Red Goddess in Metropolis?”
“Ahh... I wish I could have lived back then... I hear those were the golden ages.” He taps his fingers against the counter and looks dreamily into the space behind them.
“She left us without explanation thousands of years ago. We fell upon hard times back then. Our people were heartbroken, directionless, and... angry.
But before that… oh, what a utopia...”
“I see…” That must be what incited the war between the progenitor races of Garanea?
“Come on, Amethyst,” Frank whispers and they start to leave again, Officer Vasar already waiting for them at the entrance, looking like he's seen this show countless times before.
They leave the deeply sighing Garanea behind, slumped on the table, leaning to his elbow.
He looks toward them as they exit the shop before looking around his store.
Gazing at the many magnificent things, protectors, harnesses, anything and everything somebody had needed him to make.
Even if they only visited him once, he always made a spare pair to display, eventually.
Do you like what you see?
Will you one day return, if we continue following your teachings? Exercising your will?
He notices a tiny leaf from the bonsai maple tree falling and catches it on his fingertip.
If we show that we still believe?
Will you... return?
The leaf falls from his finger, gliding through the air across the counter, and disappearing behind it.
Please... come back to guide us...
***
“What's wrong, Frank?” Amethyst asks the scowling Frank outside the shop.
“The Red Goddess and Araltera, while they are nice fairytales, be careful not to get swept up in them.”
“Huh?”
“While Religion can be a comfort—an inspiring force—it can also strip you of your individuality, make you its slave.
Disguise their message as your own thoughts. You don’t have to look too far in the Galaxy to see that.”
“I see... I'll be careful,” Amethyst answers resolute.
“Good, don’t worry, it's not that serious, as long as you're aware.”
Losing yourself while seeking to belong… It’s something my mother hammered into my head young.
She's seen from the front lines just how dangerous religious dogmas can be when the Reverent gave Metropolis trouble.
Universally agreed to be in the top five of the most vile creatures known to the Galaxy, all known allied planets have been at war with them ever since their appearance.
The Reverent sacrifice their and others’ body parts to their imaginary God, the Limbless One, in their sermons and rituals.
This practice is made possible by the fact that they are seemingly not dead or alive.
They force this sacrificial doctrine on others and do not take no for an answer.
Unable to understand that other species aren’t so ready to let their limbs go, even if some do grow theirs back, but none regenerate as fast as the Residian themselves do.
Residian are the hideous creatures that form the Reverent faction. Their heads are rat-like in shape, their bodies covered with fur, but they sport a pig's snout and floppy ears.
Their skin has numerous gaps and holes like they were actively rotting and hollow, and their teeth grow long and sharp.
They are short and stout, and their bodies seem to lack any other bones, held together by hard sinew and muscle which can be seen from their slumped posture and drooping faces.
Even if Mother's forgiven and accepted Sinel now and other species by and large, there’s no doubt she still holds onto the grudges and wounds of those days.
As she should, those abominations must be kept away from the United Galaxy at all costs.
But… that’s neither here nor there.
“So, you’re free to go now. Just remember to wear those in the public.” Officer Vasar says, and Amethyst nods.
”Do you need a lift? We dragged you out here, after all, so I’m authorized to drive you home or wherever else you need to go.”
“What do you say, Amethyst? Should we use this opportunity to go visit the Museum? Maybe we can still salvage today?”
Amethyst rubs her sheathed dagger hands together, it produces a hard chafing sound.
“Oh? Uh, right, the Museum... I would like to go but...”
“If you’re worried about tomorrow, we’ll go back to my parents’ after this to prepare, alright?”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
“Alright, I can take you there no problem.” The officer says. “And sorry, but you’ll still have to ride at the back.”
With the afternoon closing in, they exit into the cloudy weather, the red giant sun of Metropolis shrouded, but still very much visible through the coverage.
Amethyst gets in the van’s back compartment, while Frank rides at the front.
He watches as the Workshop is left behind, Bafrouk and his premises reminding him of Hyon.
If I had followed in my father’s footsteps, would I have been working in a shop like that? Or would I have had my own workshop or a factory of some kind where I wielded heavy machinery?
What if I ended up in that shop, on this very day, would I have met Amethyst regardless…?
Nah, no way.
And even if she somehow ended up at Metropolis without me, we would have just been passing acquaintances, if even that.
...
I really don’t like calling anything fate, but sometimes it feels hard to ignore… to find anything else to call it. Something to explain it all.
Was it fate too, that dictated my parents ending up bedridden for the rest of their lives...?
I hardly even recognized either of them... but I couldn't very well tell them that, could I?
Just... keep on pretending like everything was as it used to be, like the years in between didn’t change anything.
It’s like they are not even the same people anymore, just caricatures who’ve flipped their personalities 180 degrees around. Not that it’s a wholly bad thing.
I wonder if they really are just that different… the decade apart must have been hard on them...
Or if they’re just faking it too, masking their pain and the severity of their condition underneath their pretense. They looked so... withered...
...
It’ll certainly take a lot of time to get used to my mother being so overly supportive and… cheeky. And my dad calling me 'Son', and conversing in longer sentences than a few words...
I should have a real talk with them at some point...
Frank sighs, and leans on the window, his mind littered with unresolved topics.
As they arrive at the Museum of the Mysteries of Past and Present, they get out of the car and let out Amethyst.
The officer gets back in the car and watches the two of them walk inside, then takes out a communicator hidden deep in his uniform. He writes out a text message:
“The Candidate and Blade are at the MMPP,” and sends it.
Seconds later, a notification appears: “Funds have been deposited to your account.” He smiles and drives away.