---Culvert---

---Thag’s perspective---

---2700 Terran Calendar/13 years BF---

It’s an absolutely glorious Summer’s day. A little on the hot side but bright, clear and fresh.

I sigh as I make my way down the dusty country path that I always have to travel when something like this happens.

I run my hand over the tops of the vivid yellow Yanga Dalan wheat stems that grow alongside the path, enjoying the sensory experience while I walk.

I take a deep inhale.

She needs to trust me.

I can’t get angry. I can’t shout. I can’t tell her she’s done something terrible.

I need to be kind. I need to be understanding. I need to calm her down.

As I draw close to where the road passes over the culvert, I hear what I knew I would; sobbing.

Stepping from the road, I skid down the short slope and into the dry stream bed.

I peer into the plascrete box and, at the far opening where water flows out down the hill in the wet season, I see an 11 year old girl, sat curled up into a ball, with her face buried in arms that are already more muscular than mine.

She hears me enter and looks up, briefly stopping her sobs.

I give her a sombre smile and she goes right back to her sobbing.

I walk to her side and take a seat.

I pat the space between my legs but she shakes her head.

“I…*sob*… don’t…*sob*… des…”

“Yes, you do.” I interrupt, calmly “You will always deserve a cuddle from your brother, Thrannie.”

She hesitates but then moves to take the seat against me.

I let her sob for a little while, just cuddling her, reassuringly.

Once she’s calmed down a little, I say “So, you ran away from school?”

Her shaggy mop of flyaway, orange hair bobs up and down beneath my chin.

“Why?”

There’s a long pause before she answers “I… hurt Damira…”

“The Khabirova girl?”

Another nod.

“How did that happen?” I ask, calmly and without accusation.

“We… we were playing… I got excited… her arm… it just… snapped!… I didn’t mean to!” she says, pleadingly.

“I know you didn’t, Thrannie. I know you would never mean to hurt a friend.”

“Damira was so nice! I really liked her!” she says, miserably.

“‘Was’? ‘Liked’? Do you think you killed her by breaking her arm?” I chuckle.

She shakes her head “No, but… she won’t be my friend anymore… she’ll hate me now!”

I really wish I could tell her that Damira definitely won’t hate her… Unfortunately, she’s lost friends this way before!

She’s also had trouble making friends because of the reputation she’s gained. Kids can be cruel and she knows it!

“I wish I wasn’t like this!” she says, holding up her arms “I wish I was normal! I wish Mummy and Daddy had fixed…”

“You’re not broken, Thrannie.” I state, firmly “You’re different, sure, but you’re not broken. There’s nothing wrong with the way you are.”

“I hate being ‘different’! Why didn’t they…?”

“They didn’t get you gene therapy because, if they had, you wouldn’t have been you!… You would have been someone else, Thran!… Mum and Dad love you, just the way you are. So do I. I wouldn’t trade you for the universe! And, one day… you’ll find friends who can see how amazingly special you are and won’t want you to change.”

She gives a mirthful puff before saying “Great(!) I can’t wait to break their arms(!)”

I smile “I can tell you’re feeling better if you have the wherewithal to be sarcastic, Thrannie!”

She grumbles but doesn’t contradict me.

“Look…” I say, unfastening my ponytail and pulling a lock of my brown hair forward for her to see “…most Neanderthals are redheads. I’m a brunet. Nothing wrong with it, it’s just the way I am. Not better, not worse, just different.”

“And… how many times have you hurt people by being a brunet?” she asks, innocently.

I let out a hearty laugh before saying “Alright, smartarse(!) You can do sarcasm but metaphor’s still a bit beyond you, it seems(!)… You’re right… you do need to be careful… You know that. Neanderthals are stronger than Sapiens… and that’s doubly true for you. It’s not fair on you that you have to be so much more careful than most… but that is the way it is. However, you haven’t done anything unforgivable, you haven’t done anything unfixable and (and I cannot stress this one enough) you. are. not. broken! Alright?”

She sighs before saying “Alright, Thaggie…”

“Good! Now… Damira’s arm should be mended by now, so, how about you and I take a little walk to the Khabirovs’ house and see if an apology will do any good? Hmmm?”

She nods then gets up.

As we start walking I say “Speaking of being careful, you know not to hang out in culverts when it’s the rainy season, right?”

She scoffs “I know what flashflooding is, Thag!”

---Thran’s perspective---

---2714 Terran Calendar/1 year AF---

I’m scared.

I’m covered in cuts and bruises to an extent I don’t remember ever being before! I’ve got a hangover that feels like someone’s beaten up my brain with a brick, not helped by the fact that the room is way too bright in my left eye, way too dim in my right and properly focused in neither! I’m fairly sure a few of my metacarpals are fractured! My clothing is hanging off of me in tattered rags… but none of that is what’s scaring me!

What’s scaring me is the fact that I’m chained to an interrogation table in a Thruljor jail and have no memory of what I did to get here!

Did… did I hurt someone?… Did I do worse than that?

Not knowing is terrifying!

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

The Thruljec guard in the corner of the room is scowling at me… he thinks I’ve done something unforgiveable! Unfixable!

An apology won’t do any good this time!

Just then a handsome (I'd guess) Sapiens man with dark hair, brown eyes and medium brown skin, dressed in a stylish suit and a trenchcoat, breezes into the room.

“Take off her handcuffs.” he instructs my guard in Thrulji (with a Colombian Spanish accent, according to my translator).

“But, Detective…!?” objects the Thruljec “…what if she get’s violent, again!?”

Oh god! ‘Again’?! I was violent!?

The Sapiens scoffs and answers “Rookie, I’ve seen the aftermath of this woman’s violence, I’ve seen the recordings of her being violent!… I promise you; if this woman wanted to do violence, those handcuffs would not stop her!” he turns to me “Would they, Miss?”

It’s true, the flimsy handcuffs around my wrists would be simple for me to break but… then what? I could probably walk out of the building and no one would be able to stop me but where would I go? I think it’s safe to assume whatever I did lost me my bodyguarding job, my friends, Emiko… Xon… I’d have no way off the planet and would look guilty as hell for having tried to escape!

Should I say all of that? Probably best not.

I settle for giving my head a little shake.

The confident man gives a gesture of a meaning I can’t infer and the Thruljec’s eyes go wide.

“So… if you wouldn’t mind…” says the cool man, pointing to my cuffs.

The guard removes my cuffs like he thinks I’m a wild animal.

“And… would you please go and see if you can find a shirt for Ms Hunter?… Her current one leaves a little to be desired in terms of her modesty!” he says, gesturing to the tatters covering my torso, that were a modest shirt… yesterday.

The Thruljec looks pleased to be allowed to leave the room as the Sapiens sits opposite me.

“I apologise for my colleague, Ms Hunter. A rather disproportionate number of our cases are related to Terran antics so, I’m sorry to say, there’s a bit of a prejudice problem in the Guard.” he smiles, sweetly, switching to Spanish.

“That’s… OK…” I say, hesitantly.

“My name is Det. Ramón ‘Sleuth’ Vásquez and I’ll be the one conducting your interview. Do you mind if I record you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

He places a holopad on the table and sets it to record before saying “Please state your name for the record?”

“Thran ‘Gimli’ Hunter.” I answer.

“And where are you from, Ms Hunter?”

“Yanga Dala.”

“Oh… high gravity! That’s… what? 2.5 Galactic Standard? 1.2 Earth Standard?”

I nod.

“Well… I suppose that goes some of the way to explaining your prodigious strength(!)” he grins.

“I… suppose…” I respond, fighting back the urge to provide a full accounting of the provenance of my strength, since he didn’t actually ask for it.

“You have any family on Yanga Dala, Ms Hunter?”

I nod “I’ve got my mum, my dad and an older brother… there’s an age gap between him and me though, since my mum had her cycle paused to fight in the War.”

“Oh, you’re naturalborn?”

“Yes…” I confirm “Second generation, through my mum. My dad was tubeborn, though.”

“What do you do for a living, Ms Hunter? What’s your occupation?” he asks.

“I’m a bodyguard… but I’m also a semiprofessional bodybuilder… I earn royalties from my shoots.”

“Interesting!” he says, his eyebrows high “Now… Ms Hunter… can I just ask; how much of last night do you remember, exactly?” he says, not unkindly but not smiling anymore.

“I’m… really… sorry…” I say, trying not to cry.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Whatever… I did! For being… violent!… All of it!” I say, really struggling to keep the sobs out of my voice and choking a little with the effort.

“Could I just get you to answer the question, chica?” he says, furrowing his brow “What do you actually remember?”

I take a deep breath before saying “*hfff*...Me… my girlfriend and my charge went to a military history museum… then to a funfair… I destroyed a strength machine…” guiltily.

He chuckles “Yes, a wrecked game of high striker… briefly made me think you might just be a vandal(!)”

“I didn’t mean…!”

“I know!” he says, waving his palm up and down at me to convey… something “I spoke to the girl, she told me that you were very apologetic, she told me you warned her and that she didn’t believe you so told you to just ‘hit it as hard as you can’… oh and she asked me to let you know she got that date with the sexy maintenance guy and to say ‘thanks’!… I ruled out petty vandalism as a motive very early on!… What else do you remember… after that?”

I think.

I very much do not like the feeling it gives me to try and recall but I answer “I remember being… scared… really scared! And… SO angry! But I can’t remember at all what I was scared of or angry about! I can’t remember what I did.”

He nods “I thought so! That’s about what I’d expect for someone who went through what you went through.”

“And… what did I go through?” I ask.

“Thruljor yeast toxicosis induced psychosis… you were told about it in your ‘Welcome to Thrulj’ lecture, I’m certain.”

I think back before remembering “Thruljor alcohol drives Humans insane, unless we’ve taken the counteragent, right?”

“Exactly!” he smiles.

“But… I don’t… I… I took the counteragent!” I say, confused.

I did take the counteragent, didn’t I?!

No, I definitely did! I remember the weird, unplaceable fruity taste! I remember how it felt going down my throat! I definitely took it!

“Toxicology confirms trace amounts of the counteragent in your bloodstream. You took the counteragent.” he states.

“But then… why didn’t it work?”

In answer, he reaches to his holo and flips a few pages of information to the table top display “You see, the dosage caps out at 4mg for 100kg Humans and up. Humans heavier than that usually have the bulk of the excess in the form of fat, which can’t absorb either the counter agent or the toxin. In the interest of not overconcentrating the counteragent in the nonfatty parts of people’s bodies, we cap it out at 4mg which should be more than enough to cover for people who are a bit over 100kg… but not ⅔ again that much of almost pure muscle!” he gestures me up and down “So you were starting at a disadvantage of already having a more diffuse concentration than you should have had, in your body… But then, to make matters worse, your metabolism is, frankly, insane! It chewed through that counteragent far faster than it should have! Result? A dose that should have lasted weeks, lasted mere days!” he stops here to give me a broad, genuine looking smile “In short, Ms Hunter… and I’ve never had the opportunity to tell this to someone sitting where you’re sitting before; you aren’t a criminal! You are an unfortunate victim of circumstance and the regulations that failed you need to be amended… I shall be writing up an advisory to that effect, later today!”

I’m stunned for a few moments before reality comes crashing back to me and I ask “But didn’t I… hurt people?”

“Oh! You most assuredly did! But… nothing that won’t have already been fixed up! The worst was that blonde crewmate of yours, you broke her back!… But she was up and about by the time I spoke to her! No fatalities… thanks to your friends!”

“But…” I say, slowly "…are they still my frie…?”

At that point the door bursts open.

---Ramón’s perspective---

Into the room bursts the copper haired man who restrained Ms Hunter for the suppression squad to tranq her, last night.

He carries a holopad, projecting a holograph of a teenaged girl who gives me an accusing point before declaring “This woman is entitled to have legal counsel present during questioning and you are in violation of her rights as a detainee by not informing her of that fact! Article 14, subsection f of the UTC-GU Peace Treaty clearly…”

“Clearly states that Terrans have the right to have appropriate legal counsel present when questioned by authorities, guaranteed, across the Galactic Union. What is not stipulated in that article, however, is the obligation to inform detained Terrans of that former right.”

“That’s a semantic loophole, out of keeping with the spirit of the clause, and you know it!” declares the girl.

Ms Hunter looks thoroughly bewildered.

“Are you qualified in the practice of Thruljor law, Miss?” I ask the teenager, amused.

“As a matter of fact, I am!” she shouts, triumphantly.

“Oh, really? And, when did you qualify?!” I laugh.

“23 minutes ago, on the ride down from orbit.” she answers, defiantly “Handy being able to simply download the sum totality of Thruljor laws and courtroom practices!”

“Ah, I understand…” I say, comprehension dawning “…an AI! That does change things. I thought you were just some teenager playing lawyer from her bedroom in Ohio or wherever!”

“Yes, well, now that’s cleared up, I am able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Thran ‘Gimli’ Hunter bears absolutely zero criminal responsibility for her actions last night and is, instead, a victim of circumstance who has been failed by the system!” she says, taking a holographic chair as it materialises into being, next to Ms Hunter’s “You see, Ms Hunter was given…”

“An inappropriately low dose of counteragent upon her arrival to Thrulj?” I offer.

“Err… yes, that’s right! And her physiology…”

“Broke down that which she was given at a far faster rate than typical?”

The AI girl gives me an incredulous look before continuing “Yes, therefore…”

“Therefore, Ms Hunter bears no criminal liability and is only on the hook for a flat 1,000cred UTC National Insurance deductible which can and ought to be waived in consideration of her circumstances?”

“OK, seriously?! How are you this familiar with the case I just finished putting together!?” exclaims the girl.

“Because… it’s the same case I just finished putting together(!)… I just got through explaining Ms Hunter’s innocence to her… I apparently don’t give this impression but I’m actually quite a competent criminal investigator(!)” I chuckle.

“Well, OK …” says the freshly qualified AI lawyer, deflating “…she’s free to go then?”

“As soon as my junior comes back with something for her to wear, she’s free as a bird!… It would be undignified to make her walk out of the station with the current state of her clothing.” I smile.

“OK then!” nods the lawyer, looking, not unhappy but decidedly like she’s had the wind taken out of her sails!

I lean against the back of my chair and watch as both of the uninvited guests begin telling the former suspect how worried they were, how worried everyone else was and (presumably) still is about her and about the madcap dash to get qualified to represent her and put a case together…

I hope that answers your question, chica!