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123: Deterrance

Pictured is a mysterious sophont from the final chapter of Fellow Tetrapod. The legs are columnar and human-like, though covered with tufted fur. The shoulders are narrow and the braincaise is tall and somewhat conical. Large tufts of cheek fur triple the width of its face. It has a large tail brush. It is an upright monkey. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/3fd95a5215499e5dc3ce906f76b719a1/d4e435f8fc78a24c-73/s640x960/b8d480ee0d920eb73b7cc2195d9d51de31797391.pnj]

Picture by Timothy Morris

Mr. Grumbles arched his spine, hands clasped together and lifted above his head, shrieking. He looked like an ecstatic fan at a rock concert, or someone lost in an extreme of worship. Rage cracked his body like a whip.

Koen inserted his staff between the ape's fists and Mark's face.

"Hrah!" said the frustrated erectus.

"General Graa, would you?" asked Koen.

"Yes." The raven hopped onto Mark's chest, and his steed backed away.

Graa's lacquered beak swung around, lined up with one of Mark's closed eyes. "I should be the one to administer direction."

"No," said Laura.

"He's joking," said Koen.

Graa growled. "Just an eye."

"I think he's joking," said Koen.

Laura clasped her hands in front of herself. "Please don't hurt him, Your Excellency."

Graa hitched up his shoulders and flicked his nictitating membranes.

"How does your government punish criminals like this?" wondered Koen.

Laura turned on him. "Koen, now is not the time for your questions."

"Isn't it?" Koen felt the grin growing on his face. His arms and legs, his chest, his whole body felt light, powerful, as if victory were rocket fuel. "Isn't it a good time for questions? Didn't we win?"

Mark was on his back, either unconscious or pretending to be so. Mr. Grumbles knelt beside him, enemy brought low, trembling with relief, exchanging nuzzles with General Graa. Fancy Death did the same with Fling, but with more tongue. Koen's chest was heaving and his face shone. Laura felt like crying, throwing up, and running away.

Instead, she said, "We take the injured back to the table. Then to their respective embassies. A show of good faith. We clean up the mess." She breathed out, and allowed herself to slump, just a little. "We go home."

Koen stepped to the side and put an arm around her shoulders. His mouth tasted acidic and his arms and throat ached. But Laura was snuggled up against his chest. It felt good to let her lean into him.

"I can carry Fling," he said. "Or I can carry half of Mark." He looked down regretfully. "Uh, Laura, can you carry…no. Maybe you and Mr. Grumbles together can carry…?"

Movement in the undergrowth caught Laura's eyes, and she sighed, stepping away from Koen. On the path behind Koen, sophonts of various shapes congregated like timid deer.

Said Chadwell cleared his throat and lied with consummate skill. "We came as quickly as we could."

"Is it over?" asked Nelly.

"We were not obligated to risk ourselves," said Expendable Intern.

Ensign Barker extended his claws. "Do you need help?"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Wow," said Severo, grinning. "What mess. What were you doing here?"

***

"Discuss the concept of deterrence," said Graa, later.

Laura and Koen were in his residence, seated before a laden table. No other humans had been invited, or indeed, permitted to share this meal. One Toxoplasmotic, however, had.

"Deterrence." Fling clacked her teeth. "What a ridiculous concept."

"Clarify?" asked Laura, for the sake of the recordings.

Graa strutted down his perch, head high. Lights slid across the pair of silver chopsticks fitted over his upper and lower jaws. "Remember the question you asked me: how does Pick law deal with thieves of life? The answer is 'deterrence.' We splatter the glitter of crime with the droppings of public ridicule."

Koen made a face, but Laura stuck to the substance behind the metaphor. "You want to publicly ridicule Mr. Cafarelli?"

"But that would make him less likely to attack," Fling protested.

"Fling, allow me to steer you. Human Laura, correct your misapprehension. I do not want. I demand."

One mammal inclined her head, the other raised it, exposing the soft fur under her chin. Both gestures indicated submission.

"Of course, my old friend," said Fling.

"What form would this ridicule take?" asked Laura.

Graa flicked his nictitating membranes. Koen recognized the expression as smug. "Suggest something."

Laura had suggestions prepared, but she had more things to say for the record. "My Ambassador expresses his disappointment that he was not invited to this meeting."

Graa hopped from his perch onto the table, where there lay the front leg and brisket of a large, hoofed mammal. Koen suspected it was some kind of domesticated moose. He had roasted it for twelve hours at one hundred and twenty degrees on a bed of charred oak wood and served it with tomato sauce.

With his beak-extending utensils, Graa plucked out a gobbet of tender meat. "Allow yourself to be corrected. This is not a meeting. This is a gathering of squawking friends around a carcass." He tossed it into the air and swallowed it without a pause in his speech. "The direction we choose in which to fly will surely be the best, and once our plan is in the air, your ambassador will be formally invited to join it."

Laura felt the mantle of responsibility settle over her shoulders. "I understand, Your Excellency."

"Eat some meat."

Laura did not obey, but sat thinking while Koen served himself. The texture was good, but he'd put chili peppers in the sauce next time.

He swallowed and said, "I'm wondering whether Mark might actually like it. I mean, he'll be seen by who knows how many sophonts. Maybe he'll just convince himself that all he ever wanted was fame, rather than power."

"He didn't want power," said Laura. "I remember what he said. He wanted to be the good guy."

Fling pulled a stick of charred wood out from under the meat and gnawed it. "His brain constructed a fascinating version of 'good.'"

Graa chucked at them. "Ignore these distractions. Pick law demands deterrence, not revenge. Mark will serve us as a negative exemplar. What he wants or likes is irrelevant."

Laura nodded slowly as she went down her mental checklist. "Confirm that you want us to send Mark to live with you? Like Koen?"

Graa fluttered his wings and dropped a piece of meat. "Bears!"

"Clarify?"

"He means 'no,'" said Koen.

Graa hopped onto the highest peak of the meat, beard puffed out. "As the keeper of his wardship, I shall subcontract the care and feeding of Human Mark to the United Nations Embassy. His function as negative exemplar will be consigned to The Pitiful Species Fund, care of Sty mixSty."

"I envy him," said Fling.

"We will have to discuss details with Quotidian mixSty," said Laura.

"I'm sure she'll accept that penance as well." Graa jabbed his beak at Laura. "Agree. Or else present a counter-plan."

Laura's face stayed impassive, but her gut tensed. This decision would determine the next step her species took. This was real work.

Fling's ears swiveled toward Laura. "My brain understands now. I envy you as well, Human Laura."

"I agree," she said.

Koen frowned. "So," he said, "we'll just go back to the way things were?"

"Re-frame your opinions." Graa raised his crest. "Your external circumstances matter less than your interpersonal relationships, which we have clarified greatly."

Koen put out his hand and Laura took it.

"I don't envy you," Fling told Koen. "My eyes see only contentment."

"Good," growled Graa. "Good. Now feed her a piece of meat."