---Clanless---
---Tcakqaal’s perspective---
“Excuuuse me?” says Victor, sat crosslegged at the head of the class, with the mirthful tone of someone about to render a correction “Think you’ll find there’s half a dozen species with higher populations than us!”
Responding just as mirthfully, my nephew (who’s technically my ×18 greats grand uncle but who calls me ‘Aunt’ for the same reason all R’qali males call their senior Clan that, it’s both easier and more respectful) answers “Most people tend to count those species either by queen or by the hive, which render sightly different figures from eachother but both of which would put their totals well below yours!”
“Seems like bullsh…” his eyes flick out to the roomful of students only just old enough to be allowed translators “…Seems like bull to me! Who decided to count ’em that way!? Just ’cause they’re small?” he holds his thumb and forefinger a [centimeter] or so apart “Just ’cause workers an’ soldiers can’t reproduce for ’emselves? Don’t seem fair!” he folds his arms and gives a goodnatured, suspicious look to my young relative.
Thoughtfully, Taqar turns his head to his class and asks “Who can tell me why we count the Grinitok, the Xafavt, the Webkconaw, the Klmeh, the I’inzil and the Hkh’hwkhhw that way?” making a sound like someone choking on a fruit pit for the final species he names(!)
Several moments of silence follow before one boy puts his talons in the air, tentatively.
“Kacaw, please…” says my nephew, indicating for the boy to go ahead.
The boy, Kacaw, nervously proffers “Is it because… those species… are only sentient… when they swarm?”
“Very good, Kacaw!… And what is that property called?” asks Taqar.
“Em…emergent intelligence… Sir.” responds the child, not intoning it as a question.
“Top marks! Yes!” he turns to scratch the words ‘Emergent Intelligence’ in R’qali unguiform, on the board, with his talons “Those species have all achieved sapient level intelligence in a thoroughly different way to most species; devolving the job of thinking out to hundreds of thousands of very small, not particularly powerful brains who, when gathered in a eusocial fashion, are able to communicate to problem solve like no individual ever would be! Single members of those species are well below the thresholds of sapience and sentience but, in aggregate, they possess both as emergent properties! Oh and, if any of you ever find yourself talking to a hive of any of those species (with the exception of the Klmeh), try to avoid staring at their queens… the queens are not actually in charge of the colony but are, by far, the most vital members of it so seeming fixated on them will appear rude and aggressive, as a rule…”
At this point a loud shriek plays over the PA and Victor jumps into a crouched stance, drawing every eye, his face looking mildly alarmed(!)
“It’s just the end of school announcement, Victor!” I chitter, mirthfully, causing him to relax in relief.
“How do Terran schools signal the end of day?” asks Taqar, curiously.
Seeming a little out of breath from his [adrenaline] comedown, Victor chuckles “Some of ’em use bells… mine, the teacher would see the time and go ‘OK, home time!’”
“Fascinating…” says Taqar, genuinely.
The boys file out and my nephew resets the board to remove the lines he gouged in it over the course of the lesson.
The three of us now alone in the class, he turns to Victor and I and asks “So, why are you two back on R’qal?”
“On our way to a big mission, picking folk up along the way… can’t really say much more ’an that!” smiles Victor.
“Really? Is it a secret?” asks Taqar, leaning in, intrigued.
“It’s confidential, yes.” I confirm.
“How exciting!” he answers “Well, in that case, I shan’t ask you any more about it!… Are you two free, now? I know a lovely little restaurant in the city we could go to together and… [catch] with eachother, if you’re not busy?”
Victor laughs “’Preciate the effort, Taqie, but it’s phrasal… ‘catch up with eachother’!”
“Alright, do you want to [catch up] with eachother?” he says, unperturbed.
Victor looks to me “Reckon we got time before your thing…?”
I think for a moment before answering “We should have, yes.”
“Excellent!” proclaims my nephew “Let’s go!”
The three of us step from the class onto the railless walkway, suspended [several hundred metres] in the air, on the side of the enormous schooltree.
Without looking back, Taqar launches himself from the edge and begins flying in the direction of Ra’wakqal City centre.
Victor looks mirthfully after him and asks “How long you reckon it’ll take him to remember I can’t fly?”
I look after my oblivious nephew and answer “I think it will take him at least [500m].”
“Oooh… he’s a bright boy… let’s give him a bit more credit than that! Let’s say… 499m(!)” he responds, grinning, giving a figure which is translated to far more specificity than the one I gave and I infer to have been a single digit below the rounded up number he heard.
After around [500m], Taqar looks around and, seeing himself not being accompanied, performs half a turning circle in air to point himself back at us.
He returns and lands on the walkway, laughing “I’m so sorry! It completely slipped my mind that Humans can’t fly!”
“No bother…” smiles Victor “…I’ll take it as a compliment(!)”
“How… err… how do you intend us to travel?” he asks, apprehensively looking back at the distance between us and even the outer edge of the city.
Victor laughs “We got a shuttle at the bottom of the tree, Taqie! I ain’t thinkin’ of makin’ you trudge ’cross miles of savannah and scale a 100m cliff on foot with me(!)… You’d prob’ly get stepped on by a wild kwarat(!)”
“Oh, that’s a relief!” responds Taqar before frowning “Still quite a long way to go without flying, though.”
In answer, Victor stoops to put his shoulder less than a [metre] from the ground.
I don’t hesitate to extend my bionic and climb up to the high stamina, mobile platform.
After a moment’s hesitation, Taqar joins me, Victor stands and begins walking down the left side of the walkway, avoiding the edge on the right.
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“I get that they’d be more of a liability to you guys but I wish R’qal had more safety railin’s! Feel like a stiff breeze’d push me off!” comments Victor, warily.
“The day a ‘breeze’ strong enough to move a Terran somewhere they do not wish to go blows on R’qal is a day that hundreds of R’qali would die(!) You forget this isn’t a deathworld, Victor!” I observe, wryly “Besides, you have your longfall, don’t you?”
He chuckles, gestures to the device and says “So that’s how it feels to be on the other side of that(!)… Yeah, longfall’d mean I wouldn’t get hurt if I fell but I still wouldn’t like it!”
“I thought Terran's engaged in thrillseeking behaviour? Wouldn’t falling hundreds of metres, trusting only to the integrity of a momentum arresting field, be well in line with that?” asks Taqar.
“Some do! I generally prefer to minimise risk! Ironic, given my line of work…! Or… maybe it isn’t, actually… Now I think about it, thrillseekin’d be a pretty pisspoor quality to have, as a health and safety officer(!)”
We find our way to the Swift Claw and step aboard.
“Hello Victor. Hello Captain… Who’s your friend?” comes Twila’s voice once we’re inside. Taqar looks around for the speaker a few moments before she mercifully adds “I’m an AI, sweetheart. There’s no one here for you to see!”
“Oh!” he responds “My… name’s… Taqar… It’s nice to meet you?” before adding “Congratulations on your kind’s recent recognition.” politely.
“Thank you, sweetie! My name’s Twila. Where do you guys want to go?”
Victor and I look to Taqar who asks “Would you be able to find a restaurant called ‘Warqarakri’?” uncertainly.
“I found it while you were asking. Taking you there now, though the streets are quite close so you’ll have to walk the last few hundred metres.” answers Twila, cheerfully.
The three of us look down on the savannah below, as we fly. It’s dotted with patches of trees and here and there are herds of giant kwarat birds, presumably munching on grass.
---Qarkwi’s perspective---
I finish my shift and record that fact on my holo, which will then communicate it to the software that tracks my hours.
I grab the pouch containing my personal effects and head out the back door.
I round the front of the building and run into an absolutely stunning male… an unfamiliar woman (looks like a Clanmember) with two missing eyes and a missing leg… and a frighteningly large Terran!
“Qarkwi! What a pleasant surprise!” beams the only member of the group I recognise “Are you coming or going?”
“Oh… Hello Taqar…” I say, uncertainly, to the beautiful male (who I should not be thinking about the way I do!) before saying “It’s… erm… nice to see you? I was just on my way home… What’s… err… who are you… with?” stupidly.
“This is my aunt, Tcakqaal…” he says.
I try not to give away my relief that this woman (who looks much more exciting and like she wouldn’t be courting anywhere near as far above her station as me) isn’t a suitress… probably… depending on exactly how distant a relative she actually is!
“…and this is my friend, Victor.” he adds, gesturing to the [ox] of a Terran.
“You’re… friends with a Terran?” I ask, surprised.
The pale skinned, featherless biped bares his oral bone outcrops (petrifyingly) and says “Yeaah… Taqie and I go way back!… Decent bloke!”
“How did… how did you mee… encounter eachother?” I say, trying not to sound quite so clanless.
The big man shrugs and says “Kicked in a door… took out a buncha kidnappers… opened his cell… gave him an apple… lifelong friend.” with a demeanour that suggests no joke or exaggeration.
“He saved my life and has my eternal gratitude! I shall duel any who impugn this man’s honour(!)” declares the object of my inappropriate affection.
I giggle at the image of a male fighting a duel but quickly stop myself, afraid of offending.
“Alright… well… it was lovely running into you…” I say, turning to go.
“Wait!” calls the beautiful male, after me.
I turn back to see what he wants to add.
“Are you free, now? Would you like to join us for a meal?”
---later---
I should not be here!
The looks my coworkers gave me when I came in, [minutes] after clocking out, in the company of a cyborg, a Clanchief’s son and a Terran, were disbelieving!
This is too fancy a restaurant for me to eat at! I only work here!
The Terran is sat on a chair, reinforced to take his weight, that he had to fetch from the back, himself, because moving it was too difficult for any of my coworkers.
The cyborg woman, Tcakqaal, is on a single perch, next to him and opposite me.
Taqar… is sharing a perch… with me!
The Terran is animatedly telling a story, having finished the mountain of fruit he ordered “…she just, like, raised up her fist… and cracked the table in half! Big, solid thing! Built for Terrans! Went wild for the next half hour or so, 'til law enforcement came and tranqed her!... Not her fault at all! They cocked up her dosage so she was walkin’ ’round thinkin’ she was OK when she weren’t! Oh, hey…” he flags down a coworker of mine and asks “…you wouldn’t happen to have a loo here, would you?”
With unflappable professionalism, Garkat answers “That way and to your left, Sir.” with a courteous dip of his head, managing to completely avoid showing any signs of fear at having the Terran so close.
“And… would it happen to be… erm… shall we say… ‘equipped’ for Terrans?” asks the Terran, apologetically.
Garkat dips his head again and answers “That shouldn’t be an issue, Sir. It’s all up to date and very good at identifying necessary thoroughness of sterilisation.” in a neutral, pseudoclan dialect of R’qali… refined enough not to sound coarse, not so refined as to sound like he’s putting on airs.
“Great…!” pronounces the Terran, baring his teeth “…I shall be availin’ myself of the little boys room before we get goin' then!”
“Oh! Now that you mention it… I think I shall too!” says my perchmate, cheerfully.
“Have fun(!)” quips the woman opposite me.
The two men go, leaving me alone with the adventurous looking woman.
A few moments pass before she coolly observes “Sooo… you have feelings for Taqar.”
My hearts stop and I furiously calculate what to do next!
Should I try and lie?! Deny it!?
She didn’t even frame it as a question! Is there any point denying!?
“Yes…” I answer finally, defeated “…pleeease don’t tell him!”
The cyborg woman (who I now realise is as terrifying as the TERRAN who works for her) casually says “I won’t… but you should.” as she takes a beakful of her drink and tips her head back to swallow it.
“Why…?!” I ask, incredulously “…so I can get a reputation as a conniver… trying to marry her way up the social ladder? So my coworkers can laugh at me for thinking I had a shot with him!? So my boss can fire me because I’ve proven that I’m unfit to work with my restaurant’s calibre of clientele!?”
“So that he can say ‘yes’, dear girl!” chitters the woman.
“Why would he?” I ask, turning the palm of my left talon to the ceiling “What’s someone like me got to offer a man like him! I’m nobody!”
She raises her shoulders in what my translator tells me is a Terran mannerism of nonchalance, and shatters my world with five words “He definitely likes you back…”
I stare at her… dumbstruck…
Eventually, I manage “Y-you… you think so?”
“I know so, dear girl… I’d wager Victor’s having a very similar conversation with him, right now… though… he may be waiting until they're out of the bathroom… Terran’s tend not to like to talk while relieving themselves(!)” she says, mirthfully, before continuing “You may not get the chance! Taqar may take the decision of whether to address your clear attraction for eachother out of your hands! Why not get ahead of that scenario?”
I mull that over for a while before asking “Alright… but I’m still a restaurant worker, you realise? You think if he brings me home to his mother and says ‘Hello mother, this is Qarkwi… she’s a restaurant worker and my future lifemate!’ that I get to walk out of that palace with my head attached?!”
She chitters “My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother has been rearing chicks since Terrans were fighting from [chariots] and has values to match! I’m sure she’ll be mortified… but I’m also certain you won’t be the worst afront to the status of one of her kin that she’s ever suffered… fairly certain she’s almost brought R’qal to civil war, a few times, over matches she disapproved!”
“By the Seventeen! Was that meant to make me feel better!?” I ask, not caring how out of turn I’m speaking to the Highspire woman.
“It was… but I can see that it didn’t… what I mean is, don’t worry about it! She won’t care anywhere near as much about your social standing as she did about all those times rival clans tried to make power plays with marriage!”
“Glad to know I’m not worth starting a civil war over(!)” I retort.
“Listen, it will be hard… but she can’t execute you and she can’t override her son’s wishes!… That said, might I suggest not picking out the [throne]room of Castle Highspire for your first date?”
I burst into chittering laughs.
“Good to see you guys are gettin’ along!” comes the voice of the Terran, approaching from the bathroom and flanked by a dazed looking Taqar… looks like his aunt was right on the money!
“Alright, Victor… we have an appointment to keep!” says the incomparable woman.
The two of them pay their respective portions of the bill and bid us farewell.
Me and Taqar sit in silence for a long while, avoiding eyecontact.
Eventually, I decide to just go for it but…
“Qarkwi… there’s something I want to… tell you…” says the beautiful man before I can.
Oh, Seventeen! It’s happening!