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Leaving the cramped, but secure comfort of the flight deck behind, Rsh descended into the pale blue light of the planet. The distant forest rose up behind the landing leg's aged metal. As he hooked his hands around the rungs, he noticed his claws were getting long. I should file them down soon, he thought. It's a pain, but it's only practical. I can't use touchscreens with claws or I'll scratch them up. The fact that it makes me look more civilized is … just a bonus. He reached the bottom and let go of the rungs. Raising his hand, he examined the way his stubby claws were slowly forming a sharp point again.
Everything is in motion, he mused. Even though we all long for comfortable stasis, the biological processes of life always continue.
"Feels good to be on solid ground again!" Luci said. "Without a space suit, anyway."
Rsh raised his eyes and watched the tiny human stretch her arms while wandering in a circle.
Except for Luci's height, that is.
A smile spread across his face, but humans could never read his expression, so he didn't bother to hide it.
Despite her enthusiasm, some loud hooting and hollering from the assembled sky-blasters halfway across the field made her glance fretfully their way. She eyed them like a herd of wild beasts that would stampede at the drop of a hat. She edged sideways toward Rsh, her soles scraping the concrete. She used to look at me like that, he thought, amused. Now she's flocking to my side for protection. How times change.
A heavy-duty hinged lid protected the intrapanel attached to the landing leg. He lifted the lid up, typed in the command to seal the ship and put it into low-power mode, and let it go. The lid swung back down into place and pressed firmly against its casing. Above, the hatch to the flight deck sealed itself shut with a heavy clunk. The exterior lights switched off, leaving the four of them steeped in the dim blue of the planet's atmosphere.
"What about fuel?" Luci asked.
"I was not expecting a 'fee'," he said. "We shall see … how much is left … after buying supplies."
As always, the words got stuck in his throat. They never came out as smoothly as they sounded in his head. He cursed the limitations of his non-human vocal cords.
Their 'boss' stalked past, turning restlessly one way, then the other. She held her omnitablet up, two inches from her squinting eyes. Her frown deepened the longer she stared at it. She poked the screen and scrolled it down, up, down, up again. Rsh's keen hearing caught the mutters spilling from her mouth.
"What the hell is a 'dee-vee-soar'?"
Predictable, Rsh thought. She refuses to learn anything, except when she needs to spite other people.
He said, "It is pronounced … 'divisor'."
Although he enunciated the word as best he could, it ended up just sounding like his normal voice.
She whirled towards him in surprise, scowled, then whirled away from him and hid the tablet with her body.
"I didn't say anything," she spat.
Something rankled Rsh's senses. He tilted his head towards the starport. A line of thugs strode up to the ship. They moved with purpose, but they didn't seem like they were looking for trouble. Blaze was in the middle of checking the charge meter on his blaster pistol when he noticed them too. He raised his eyes, his fingers gripping the handle tightly. Rsh assumed the words 'no boom' were echoing around the human's head. Blaze shoved the pistol into its holster and strutted into their path to meet them. He puffed his chest up, straightened his back, put his hands on his hips with his elbows sticking way out to the sides. Taking up as much space as humanly possible.
He wants to be a boulder blocking their path, rather than a pebble they might stub their toes on.
This should be amusing.
Rsh hung back, in the ship's shadow, to watch the encounter unfold.
The thugs stopped a few paces away. An appropriate distance to ensure nobody felt crowded or threatened. Shiny badges were pinned to their chests, but that was it as far as uniforms went. They had worn jackets, nondescript turtlenecks, tactical pants with kneepads. No coordination whatsoever. Motley, mismatched clothing, typical of independent mercenaries.
"Howdy there, partners," Blaze said. "How can I help y'all?"
"Welcome to Croshaw," the man in front said. The pale blue light made his skin the color of stone, and the stubble covering his chin and cheeks doubly so. His gravelly voice immediately put Blaze's fake cowboy accent to shame. He gestured to the men behind him. "Planetary security. We're here to collect the air purification fee."
"I don't reckon I recall any such fee the last time I came around this here … these here parts … I reckon."
The confused jumble of folksy slang made the thug blink a few times. His sealed lips wriggled around his clenched jaw, occasionally rising up at the edges in a contemptuous sneer.
"It's new," he said, forcing the words out.
He doesn't have much experience with customer service, does he? Rsh thought. I'm guessing they were all hired to keep order when the sky-blasters arrived. Or the pirates, one or the other.
"How much?" Blaze asked.
"350vx."
My turn to speak, Rsh thought.
He strode forward. His heavy footsteps thudded on the concrete. The thugs shifted their attention away from Blaze and onto Rsh. Their eyes shot open. Their hands tensed and edged toward their weapons. They didn't seem quite as relaxed now.
"Outrageous," he stated.
"Take it up with them." The lead thug nodded at the sky-blasters. "The atmosphere processor is strained to its limits scrubbing that crap they pump out of their engines."
"So tell 'em to hit the stardusty trails," Blaze said.
Fake sincerity oozed from the thug's lips. "That'd be breaking the Consumers' Bill of Rights, son."
He doesn't look like he'd lose any sleep over it.
"And they have all paid … this fee?" Rsh asked.
"Of course."
The mercenary's smooth voice and broad smile dared Rsh to call him a liar. They stared each other down, the human doing an admirable job of hiding his fear, even though Rsh's sharp eyes noticed the slight tremors and twitches that betrayed how hard he was trying not to flinch in the face of a Zantauran. As the staring contest dragged on, Blaze's slack, gawking face twisted between them. Then, he remembered his cowboy posturing, and stuck his hands on his hips again and wiped the stupid look off his face.
Rsh narrowed his eyes, and spotted a gulp going down the thug's throat. Behind him, another thug's hand crept along the stock of his rifle, towards the trigger.
Let's get this over with, Rsh thought.
He announced, "Perhaps you misheard."
The thug tilted his ear towards Rsh, his eyebrows rising. "Oh …?"
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Perhaps the fee was … 150vx."
The thug's eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth, his lips sliding over them like half-formed words were going through his brain.
"250vx," he said.
Although he tended to keep his head down and hunch his back to be slightly less imposing, now he drew himself up to his full height of seven feet. He stared down his muzzle at the thug. Drawing each syllable into a slow, savage growl, Rsh said, "200vx."
Blaze edged forward to escape Rsh's shadow.
"Take it or leave it, hombre," he said.
But his paltry words bounced off the steely silence between Rsh and the thug like a pebble flung at a starship hull.
The mercenary's lips cracked into a grin.
"Right! How silly of me. It was 200vx."
Easing himself back into his hunched posture, Rsh plucked his wallet out of his robes. He passed a handful of transparent plastic cards to the mercenary, who held them up to a floodlight on the starport's main building. After he examined the prismic pattern inside to ensure they weren't counterfeit, he nodded at the others. They relaxed and turned to head back to the starport.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he said.
He followed the others, leaving Kestrel Mining behind. They shrank to the size of figurines and headed for the starport's main building.
"I could've handled them," Blaze said, when they were a considerable distance away and well out of earshot.
Rsh sighed. This 'fee' had taken quite a chunk out of their petty cash. How much had it set them back? He started doing some quick mental math, but he got distracted when Philomena wandered past. Her nose was still buried in her omnitablet.
"'Quote … tent'?! What language is this?!" she muttered, shaking the tablet like she wanted to throttle it.
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Mist fell from the cloudy skies and drifted down the sharp, rocky peaks. It pooled in the narrow valley far below Dr. Brusq's vantage point and spread among the evergreen trees pointing at the sky. Observing the alpine planet's climate as it swirled past the window, he focused on keeping his breathing steady.
This is it, he thought. The culmination of my life's work!
He studied his reflection in the window. Bony. Gaunt. Bald on top, gray on the sides. Too late to start over. And the 'new blood' coming into the university these days … they had the silliest ideas. Laszlipp theory? Sendic reinforcement? The Drustum-Mandig technique? He'd rather eat the slime sac of a Zebocrim than restart his academic career learning all that trendy garbage.
When would people learn? The only educational technique guaranteed to work was the Brusq method. He'd devoted so much time and effort trying to get people to learn that simple fact, but they just didn't understand. No, they didn't want to understand. Every time he graciously offered the galaxy a study, others bent over backwards to poke holes in it. Accuse him of 'misinterpreting the data'. 'Fudging the numbers'. Some had even dared to throw around that dreaded insult … 'Fraud'.
Jealousy, pure and simple. They cannot comprehend the brilliance of the Brusq method! Their petty minds refuse to let go of their own flawed theories, and they hunt for flaws in my work where there are none. Their egos are holding the collective development of the human race back by decades!
It is the height of irony that the men and women in charge of researching educational theory are uniformly terrible at learning what's best for them.
But all of that is about to change!
He turned away from the window and faced the taupe room. It'd been furnished exactly as he requested. A table in the center, with a single chair. A large display screen on a cart in front of the table, facing the chair. Spotlights on stands and bounce cards directing large amounts of light towards the chair. The subject of his technique sat in it, hunched over a large tablet. She clutched a stylus and furiously scribbled onto its screen. Her face was hidden by her long copper hair.
There she is, he thought. The key to validating my life's work!
The scientific community had shut Dr. Brusq out. And yet, when one of the richest and most influential business dynasties in the galaxy needed their help, that same scientific community had utterly failed them. A parade of amateurs, peddling nonsense theories, had failed to produce the results they needed. So, they had come to the 'pariah' for help.
And help I shall!
Using the Brusq method, I shall mold her like clay into the scion her family deserves!
He checked the time on his omnitablet. The first session was almost over. In just a few minutes, he'd make all those so-called 'experts' eat Zebocrim for doubting him. He walked cautiously to the table, careful not to disturb the young girl as she worked. He was tempted to peek over her shoulder and see how far along she was, but he decided against it. He didn't want to bias his conclusions before the session was finished. He stealthily circled around her. She remained hunched over the tablet, scribbling furiously with the stylus.
Good. Good! Work hard, my little scion! Work hard!
He went to the spotlights aimed at her and checked the wavelength of their soothing, nurturing golden light with an app on his omnitablet. He'd already checked the lights a dozen times before the session started, and half-a-dozen times during. But his gut told him to check one last time, to make sure nothing had gone wrong.
He needn't have worried; they were still perfectly calibrated.
The quality of the light was central to the Brusq method. He had analyzed his young subject's nervous system, and calculated the appropriate wavelength of light to resonate with her synapses. It would relax her, lower her resistance, make her receptive to the lessons. The math lessons on the display screen had an identical golden tint. As it traveled down her optic nerves and vibrated in sync with her nervous system, it'd generate a harmonic feedback loop in her impressionable little mind, priming her to rapidly and efficiently absorb the lesson.
In addition, a small speaker on the table emitted a soothing, barely-audible tone. When that wavelength entered her ears, it'd make her auditory system vibrate harmonically with her nervous and ocular systems, intensifying the learning experience.
He glanced at the security camera on the ceiling. It was streaming the session to the conference room down the hall. Once they got a taste of the genius-level intellect the Brusq method had bestowed on the girl …
At last, I'll get the recognition I deserve!
And, with the help of my patrons, I'll rub my results in the face of everybody who's ever doubted me!
Soon, the entire galactic educational community will be begging for my forgiveness!
A chime interrupted the soothing tone coming out of the speaker on the table. Suddenly, his heart beat very quickly. The session is over. Time for results! He stood over the table, watching his subject write on the tablet. She's in a frenzy to learn! Oh, this is glorious! Better than I expected!
He could barely contain a smile.
"Ahem!" he said. "Oh, Philomena?"
Her concentration broken, the girl froze. Her stylus hovered over the tablet and its math problems. Blinking slowly, she raised her face to him. He wanted to clap his hands together and rub them. But no! He was an educator. He had to be disciplined, for the benefit of the young mind he intended to mold.
"Huh?" she asked.
"The session is over," he said sweetly.
"Oh," she said. "Um, okay."
"Now then!" he said, stealing another peek at the camera on the ceiling. A smirk crept onto his lips. His heart was pounding at the speed of light now. "Let's test what you've learned, shall we?"
She stared up at him, her face blank. The effects of the procedure haven't worn off yet, I suppose.
He loudly cleared his throat, as much for the benefit of the woman watching via camera as himself.
"Now then! Let's start simple. Philomena, what is … twenty-five … divided by … five?"
Dr. Brusq nodded at the girl, signaling that it was okay for her to speak. And he waited for the brilliant, erudite intelligence to pour from her young mouth.
And … he waited … and …
"Huh?" the girl asked.
A bead of sweat went down his forehead. His gut got so heavy it felt like he'd swallowed a black hole. His eyes wanted to look up at the camera, but he forced himself to stare intently at the girl. A terrible twitch went through his eyes, making half his face flinch and buzz.
"It's okay, don't be shy. What's twenty-five divided by five?"
"Huh?" the girl asked again.
He barked out a laugh, but his voice cracked midway through. The Brusq method had been set up properly. Her subconscious should be an open book to imprint knowledge onto. Those math equations on the screen should be etched permanently into her brain.
"It's a simple equation, Philomena."
"Equa … tion?" she asked.
Her little mouth sounded out the word. Not a single spark of recognition glinted in her eyes. M-Maybe she just hasn't been primed to associate the numerals when written out with them being spoken? Yes, I'm sure that's it. She has been dutifully completing her math problems with no issue, after all.
He lifted the tablet out of her hands and checked her answers—
Dr. Brusq froze. His blood ran cold. The fingers gripping the tablet went numb. Started to shake. In disbelief, he read the words, scribbled around the unanswered math problems, out loud. The more of them he read, the worse his shaking got.
"'One day a biznezwomnn from Fancy Compnny wntt to the Airee. And she sed "Pfilomina yure the best biznezwomnn ever." And Pfilomena sed "Yes iyem the best biznezwomnn ever." And she sed "Pfilomena how doo yu becomm the best biznezwomnn ever?" And Pfilomena sed "Its eesee! Be smrt and wear pritty drezez!" And she sed "Pfilomena yure the best biznezwomnn ever!" And Pfilomena sed, "Yes iyem the best biznezwomnn ever!" They livid haply ever aftur, bekuz theyr best biznez' …"
He flipped the tablet around so she could see it and pointed at the screen.
"Why didn't you complete the math equations?!"
"Oh," the girl said. "Um … I didn't know what those are."
The black hole in his gut grew bigger. Ate up everything inside him. He searched for something to say, but all the words in his brain had gotten sucked up by the crushing singularity.
An intrapanel next to the door chimed. He spun towards it, at a loss for words. A sharp voice shot across the room and struck him like a blaster bolt.
"Thank you, Dr. Brusq," she said. "Your services will no longer be required."
He turned to the security camera on the ceiling. "Please, I— Give me another chance! The Brusq method works, I assure you! I can prove it! H-Hello …?"
There was no reply.
When security arrived to escort him from the premises, they found him huddled up in the corner, crying. By then, the girl had returned to scribbling in the tablet. She looked up, watched the guards take him away, and raised her hand to wave goodbye.
He didn't return it.
It's not the Brusq method that's the problem, he thought. It's her!
Sh-She must just be … the dumbest girl in the galaxy!
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