Resurrection: Phoenix Ascending, chapter 53: Duels

A collaboration between OobluebubblesoO and Nitebreaker

Meanwhile, at the local Petsmart, the cashier was checking out a little girl who was buying a huge sack of dog food. Strong little thing, he thought. It was at least a fifty-pound bag. She didn't look like she weighed much more than that herself.

He was right. Angelique was a strong little thing.

He spoke to her as she counted out her money. "What kind of dog you got, anyway?"

"I don't know. I just found him."

"A mutt. That's the best kind, so I hear. The smartest, anyway."

She counted out her change. "I guess," she replied, distractedly. Then, "Say. You don't happen to have any books on dog diseases here, would you?"

"Maybe in the back. Want me to look?" It was after the usual hours, and he had some time.

"Please, if you would. My doggie's sick and I wanna know how to take care of him."

As she waited there at the cash register, with the bag of dog food paid for, she scanned the outside. She needed to be getting back to Charlie; it was almost feeding time. There was no one else out front.

Then she saw the first runners. Just some people, pedestrians, it looked like, running like crazy, looking back over their shoulders, expressions of fear on their faces. If she'd had anything as primitive as a heartbeat, it would've quickened; maybe it was the troublemakers, making trouble? Oh, please, let it be. Mr. Slade would be so happy if she could get one or more of them…

But the sight she saw when she exited the store was not any of the troublemakers she was familiar with. Rather, it looked like an enormous ball of pink and red snot, with legs, tearing up the street. She'd never seen anything so disgusting looking.

She dodged back into the store even as the lights flickered. The thing had looked wet…then she saw one corner post with a sign that read "USE TO CLEAN UP WET SPILLS" and grinned like a shark. Okay. But she'd need more…

She cast around with her senses and found several more bags. Scooping them up, she formed herself into a giant hose, loaded with the drying agent. "Hey, Ugly!" Plasmus obligingly turned towards her. "Know your name, don't'cha?" And she let him have it.

…..

On board the Hunter fleet, Seer of the Way met Talks to God coming off the passenger car from the bridge. The latter was carrying an armload of infodisks and cubes. "Find anything?" he asked.

"Not unless one counts some interesting static patterns." The disks and cubes shifted in his arms, and he almost lost several.

"What's interesting about static?"

"When it begins to repeat itself. Random static doesn't usually do that."

"Hum. So. Any indication of intelligence in this system?"

"No. It's very much too far away. At least several factons, maybe several tens."

"Any idea which direction its coming from?"

"Somewhere up ahead." The two began walking down towards Talks to God's cabin. Seer glanced up at an overhead monitor. All was quiet. Good. There were two males fighting on the screen; he looked closer. No weapons. Also good. This was not a duel of honor then, but simple recreation. No blood would be shed. He fervently hoped that would continue to be that way.

The last duel of honor had cost them the life of one of the other ship's navigators, and Seer knew that none of the ships could really afford to lose any more valuable personnel. They were, after all, a long way from resupply.

Seer gestured. "Join me for fourthmeal?" It was nearly time.

Talks paused. He normally took his meals in his cabin, alone, due to his, for his kind, unusual way of preparing his meat, but there was more to eating than simply replenishing one's internal fuel supply. "I do need to get to work analyzing this data, but I suppose it could hurt nothing to wait a while. Yes, I would like to join you." And the two made their way to one of the starship's common dining halls, located on this deck.

Once there, and seated on the floor cushions that served them as furniture, Seer ordered the low table to serve him his rations. In no time, a piping hot bowl of cubed raw meat appeared in front of his appreciative nose, along with a bowl of mineral water. Talks to God just ordered a bowl of water.

"Still on that method of preparing your food, Talks?"

"Yes. I find it actually improves the flavor."

"How can burning meat improve anything?" He got outside of several more meat cubes, swallowing some whole.

"I do more than just burn it. I also add ingredients, herbs, spices, that sort of thing. You'd be surprised at the enhancement of flavor. Seriously. You should try it sometime. Even if it is not the way for you, the experience would be worthwhile."

Seer shuddered slightly, hoping Talks to God wouldn't notice. "Perhaps I will, someday." Like the day the moon falls to the ground like overripe fruit. There just seemed to be something vaguely blasphemous about burning flesh before one ate it. What of the blood? Wouldn't it boil out, like it would in hard vacuum? Seer just couldn't see the attraction. "So. Your 'static'…." He began.

Talks to God examined his screenpad, unplugging one datacube and plugging another in. "Yes. It's most probably nothing, but, as I said, some of it seems to repeat. That's usually the mark of deliberate transmission. If I could make use of the other ships' computers, I might could pinpoint it."

"Farseer would never go for it. Too much reallocation of valuable resources, for no significant gain."

Talks to God sighed. "How well I know. Well, we have made some first contact out here. You've sent courier missiles back with locations, information, and so forth?"

"Yes. The contact division will be overjoyed. That last planet, where we encountered the foundering ship, seemed especially attractive. No doubt they'll have things to trade."

At the next table, Talks to God heard a snort of contempt. He glanced over to see: it had come from one of the newer recruits, Walks Along the Trail. Walks Along the Trail, he knew, belonged to a small but vocal minority of Hunters who called themselves the Primevals. Their belief was that all other life forms existed for the purpose of being hunted. After all, they were Hunters. They should hunt, by The One.

Talks to God sighed. It was from this group that he'd occasionally overheard a muttered comment: g'narr, which meant, in Hunter language, "useless one." He knew they referred to him, and not just because of his sterility, but also because they felt he served no useful purpose. Spiritual advisor? The Primevals were fond of saying their spirits needed no advising.

Talks to God knew, as many had before him, and would after him, that the most dangerous being in existence is the one who thinks he has all the answers.

He turned his head, addressing Walks Along the Trail. "I take it you disagree, young one?"

Walks along the Trail hesitated. Talks to God was, after all, his superior officer, and deserving of respect for that. If nothing else. Then, "It is only my opinion, respected one. I am entitled to that."

Talks to God nodded. "Indeed you are. But I am curious. You know that, in most cases of alien life forms, we cannot eat of their flesh, due to allergic reactions. Do you not?"

"Yes, respected one. I know that." It was a point of contention with the Primevals. "I…do not need to be reminded of it."

Talks to God narrowed his eyes at the young Hunter. "Especially," he said, levelly, "by a Useless One."

"I did not say that, respected one." The dining hall grew quiet as others took note of the course of the conversation.

"Admittedly, you did not." Again, Talks to God narrowed his eyes. "But the meaning was there. Was it not?"

Walks Along the Trail did the most insulting thing he could lawfully do under the circumstances: he said nothing.

Talks to God was silent, his elongated head tilted to one side, his eyes bright and his expression unreadable. One could've heard a pin drop in the dining hall. Then, "I comprehend. Well, then. I suppose it falls on me to invite you to a duel of honor, in the main square, immediately after fourthmeal."

Both Seer and Walks Along the Trail looked at him in surprise. Duels of honor were normally to the death.

….

Beast Boy's cell signaled for attention. Glancing at it, he frowned. He didn't recognize that number. "Hello?"

"Beast Boy? This is Ashley. You know, Tara's friend?"

"Oh, uhm. Yes." Warning bells started to go off in his head; Ashley didn't, as a rule, make a habit of calling him. "Is something wrong?"

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then, "I hope not. Have—have you heard from Tara, today?"

"No—o. Why, what's going on?" He had the phone on speaker, and Terra looked up questioningly, at the mention of Tara's name.

"She didn't show up for school today. That's not like her. And, she's not answering her cell. Nobody answers at her house. And, and, somebody from the university called me, to see if I'd heard anything. Apparently, her dad didn't show up for work. I guess I'm startin' ta get worried."

"It's probably nothing." In fact, he was already convinced it was just the opposite. "We'll look into it." He reassured her, and closed his cell.

"Gar? Something up?"

"Maybe." He dialed Robin's number, but got no answer. He stared at his phone for a minute, then shrugged. Robin was probably off on patrol of some sort, maybe in a dead zone. He hadn't given up his search for Slade, and, Beast Boy realized, probably never would. Those two were too much alike to leave each other alone.

Without giving it much thought, he dialed Omega's number. "Omega! Look, I need a favor….."

The trio converged on the Zharkov residence, Beast Boy and Omega flying in under their own power, while Terra skillfully landed her boulder in the driveway. Jumping down, she joined them at the door. "So this is where she lives? Hm. Nice place," she said, sliding her goggles up on her head. Omega had already phased inside, disarmed the security system, and opened the door from within, holding it for them.

"Terra?" Beast Boy asked, "would you mind checking with the neighbors, see if the Zharkov's said anything about going on vacation or something?"

"Sure, Gar. I'll meet you both inside." And off she went.

He followed Omega inside. "What, exactly, are we looking for, Garfield?"

"Anything out of the ordinary." He morphed into wolf form and followed Tara's scent—so much like Terra's own—upstairs to her room. Pushing the door open with a forepaw, he glanced around the room, not so much with his eyes, which, in this form, weren't all that helpful, but with his keen sense of smell.

There; her bed was unmade, just like she'd just gotten out of it. But his sense of smell detected something disturbing: a faint scent of fear, the peculiar bodily changes in a person's sweat that alters slightly, chemically, when one is frightened. But this was the middle of her room, of her own house. What would she have to be scared of?

He was afraid he knew.

He followed the faint trail out into the upstairs hallway. There; she'd gone down this way…..a closed door barred him, and this one was locked tight. "Omega!" Then he realized that, in wolf form, all he'd managed to do was bark. He changed back to human, but the Osiran was already there, having heard the bark. "Omega, can you open this door?"

In answer, the Osiran simply gave it a push. It broke in half down the middle, coming off its hinges easily, and falling inside, revealed what appeared to be an elevator shaft. Garfield stuck his head in it, looking both up and down.

The shaft was smooth sided, and extended down farther than he could see. But when he looked up…..

…..the clear sky showed at the top of the shaft. He pulled his head back in. Turned to Omega. "Find anything?"

"No. There is no evidence of what you call 'foul play.'"

He sighed. "Except Tara's missing. And she was apparently afraid, at some point. Very afraid." He shared his findings with the Osiran.

Terra rejoined them. "Man, I hate Chihuahuas. Those little bastards always seem to go straight for my ankles."

"Did the neighbors know anything?"

"Nope. Evidently, the Zharkov's pretty much kept to themselves. Nobody was asked to watch the house or anything."

"Omega? Do you sense anything, anything at all?"

The Osiran looked around. "There is a faint ion trail, centered on this empty shaft. It leads upwards, towards the upper atmosphere."

Beast Boy chewed a knuckle. "Like maybe an ion rocket or something?"

"Nothing so crude as that. More like an interaction of force fields. It is very faint, and is fading even as we speak."

"Gar?" Terra was looking thoughtful. "Could Slade have come for her, you think?"

He frowned. "I've been all over this house, and I haven't caught any sign of Slade's scent. Of course, he does like to work through Slade-bots, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything. But we definitely need to bring in the team on this." Even as he spoke, he was dialing Robin's number.

The Titans convened back at the Tower. "Okay, let's have it," said Robin. "What'd you find?" They shared their findings with him. "Hm. Okay. Omega? Could you tell if, say, a rocket or some sort of personal transport system had taken her to some other part of the world?"

"I've scanned the trail, Robin. It leads straight up, angling toward galactic north."

"So it looks like…..whoever built those robots decided it was time to, what? Cash in on their investment? Kidnap her? Why now?"

"I don't know, and, right now, it doesn't matter. We have to follow them, Rob! She's in danger!"

"Calm down, Beast Boy. I'll alert the Green Lantern corps; this is what they do. I'll just tell 'em what's going on, and for them to keep watch for any unauthorized ships or whatever in the vicinity. But we have bigger fish to fry: there's still the matter of Slade and Angelique. And the League still has their hands full with the probe and the Thinkers." He saw Garfield's expression. "Look. Whoever did all this, and by that I mean the whole cloning her, raising her, etc., is unlikely to harm her. They've gone to too much trouble to endanger her in some way."

"There's all kinds of harm, Robin."

He nodded. "True. But that doesn't change the fact that, right now, she's just not top priority. We'll get to her, okay? But we have other business ahead of us right now."

Beast Boy was silent, looking down at his hands. Then, "Yes, Rob. I…understand."

"Alright, then. Moving on…."

As Garfield and Terra were preparing for bed, she noticed his preoccupied look. "You're worried about her, aren't you?"

"Yes, Terra. I am." He sighed as he pulled his boots off. "I can't help but wonder: what was she being prepared for? If it had been Slade, I could see what. He'd want another you, one he could completely control. But this is something else. And I can't shake the notion that it's something really big and bad. I mean, I can't see someone cloning you, going to all that trouble to keep it a secret while in plain sight, so to speak, raising her for two years, then kidnapping her, all in an effort to spread sunshine, peace, and puppy dogs throughout the universe."

She stood there, one knee on their bed, in her sleep shirt, and scrutinized him. Then, "But this goes deeper than just an impersonal or tactical concern, Gar." It wasn't a question.

He sighed and lay back, one arm behind his head. She slid under the covers with him. "Perhaps so. I mean, she's not just a face in the crowd anymore. She's someone I've met, talked to. That makes it a little more personal, I guess."

She put her arms around him, drawing them both together. Laid her head on his chest. "Gar? Are you absolutely sure-*"

"For the umpteenth time, I am not in love with her. I love you, Terra. I always have, and I always will. Promise me one thing? Promise me that, no matter what happens, you'll always remember that?"

She snuggled closer. "I promise. I'm sorry, Gar, I guess it's just a female thing. Insecurity, you know."

"Well, I don't know what I could do to make you more secure. I mean, you've had me every night for some time now, while all she's gotten, discounting Las Vegas, was a few accidental meetings and lunch."

"I know." Silence. "But, you know, I didn't exactly have you, you know. Not in the way she did."

"Would you have wanted to? Like that, I mean?" He grinned to show he wasn't serious.

"Hell, no. When we Do It, I want you fully conscious."

He drew back, his hands on her shoulders, a peculiar look in his eye. "Fully conscious. Like this?" And he kissed her. Not like his usual kisses, but deeper, more intimate. She felt her heartbeat speed up. "G-Gar?"

He kissed her throat, moving steadily downwards. Her breath hitched; was this what it meant by "taking your breath away"? This was nothing even remotely like her experience with Slade. But then, Slade hadn't really cared about her.

Garfield did.

He kissed her nipples through the fabric of her sleep shirt, on the way down, pausing to do the same to her navel. There was no doubt in her mind where he was going to end up. Sure enough, off came the panties; now, she could feel him down there, where she'd wanted him all along. He kissed her tenderly, exploring her softness, her wetness. Her breath came in hitches, and she started to moan, clutching the sheets, twisting them in her hands. This was…..an incredible experience.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered, vaguely, where he'd learned to do all this. A part of her wanted to know, but another part didn't. She resolved to ask him later. Maybe. She only hoped the word "Raven" wouldn't somehow come up. She really didn't know what she'd do if it did. Hopefully nothing involving blood.

He moved faster, deeper, stimulating her more, both with his fingers and his tongue, and her cries grew in volume and frequency.

After what seemed like way too short a time, they both fell asleep.

The main square of the Hunter starship Deson was located in the uppermost deck area, with a transparent blister opening to space. Duels of honor were fought out in the open; that was the whole point. The outcome should be in plain sight, for everyone to see.

Walks Along the Trail and Talks to God were stationed at opposite sides of the square, both equipped with razor-sharp kating knives. Such knives were more than capable of cutting through the Hunters' natural armor of scales, and of slicing into the thick, tough hide beneath said armor. Walks Along the Trail drew his knife and tested the edge with his tongue. Yes. Very sharp.

Not for the first time, he asked himself, am I ready for this? He knew he was young, but he'd fought duels of honor before, and knew how to fight. All Hunters did. He glanced at his opponent. Talks to God had actually done him a favor, by challenging him to the duel, since fleet rules forbade him from challenging a superior officer, except in the direst of cases.

And one simply did not refuse a duel of honor. It just wasn't done. Two fought; one won. Simple. That was the way it had always been.

But the truth was, he didn't really have a grudge against Talks to God. True, he was useless, an anachronism, but he had no personal reason to wish his opponent dead. Still, it had to be. It was The Way.

Talks to God relaxed against the far wall. He didn't bother to draw and test his knife. Rather, he took the time to study his opponent. Walks Along the Trail was young, fast, somewhat experienced. This would not be easy. But hopefully, if he could do it, it would be worthwhile.

If he could do it.

The two advanced, Walks Along the Trail drawing his knife from its sheath, with a clean, steel-on-steel sound. He thought it odd, that Talks to God had not drawn his. Was this some sort of subtle insult? Was his opponent so confident of victory that he didn't even feel the necessity of a weapon? He smiled grimly. Well. Perhaps he could be persuaded to change his mind.

Walks Along the Trail feinted once; Talks to God smoothly stepped aside with a liquid motion. His eyes did not leave his adversary. Walks Along the Trail feinted again, but this time followed through with a slashing downward cut that, had it landed, would have laid his adversary's thorax open. It did not. Talks to God deftly avoided the knife with an easy skill Walks Along the Trail was beginning to find annoying. Again he slashed; again the blow was dodged with fluid grace.

Now Talks to God moved forward, his head and tail balancing his body on his thick, powerful kangaroo-like hind legs, rushing his opponent from below. Walks Along the Trail brought his knife up and down, to make another sweeping cut….

…only to have Talks to God suddenly raise up, both wrists locked in front of him, catching his wrist in a vise-lock. He twisted, sending his opponent's knife spinning out of his grasp. The onlookers gasped at this unexpected turn of events.

Walks Along the Trail broke loose, gasping. He'd never been disarmed so easily. It was a shame this one had to die; he had much to teach young. But now he was weaponless. Then his gaze narrowed on his foe's undrawn knife. Perhaps that could be remedied.

He approached his adversary warily now, aware that he faced an experienced foe. He ducked, dodged, feinted to the left…..and closed suddenly with Talks to God. Ripping the knife out of its sheath, he sprang back, eyeing his opponent with a certain amount of triumph.

Was that a half smile on Talks to God's face? Almost, thought Walks Along the Trail, as though he'd intended for his opponent to snatch his knife. "The females will not look with favor on you when you lose that one, too," Talks to God said, the first words either had spoken since entering the square.

"You think this is some sort of game?" Walks Along the Trail snarled hotly. "I will cut out your heart!"

"You will try." Again they closed. Walks Along the Trail angled inward, seeking a vital spot for his knife, but his opponent shifted, throwing him off balance. Talks to God maneuvered in such a way that Walks Along the Trail could not bring his weapon to bear. With almost sinful ease, he locked his arms around the young Hunter from behind, keeping the blade away, while effectively depriving him of any leverage. "Listen to me," he said, his mouth close to Walks Along the Trail's ear. "You spoke of a game. But is that not what you would make of us, of our people?

"We are a great people, Walks Along the Trail. We have done much that is good in the cosmos. Yet all that we are, all we have become, we owe to the teachings of The One, and to our ancestors, who learned from those teachings. Yet you would cast all that onto the bonfire of sensual gratification? You would kill meat you cannot eat? To what purpose? To simply say you have done it? To whom would you boast?

"The One saved us. We were plant eaters, never knowing a better way, never looking up. The One taught us better, made us better. Yet you would have us become to all flesh what we once were to grass? You would have us spread across the galaxy like a plague, killing, destroying, for no reason? All to satisfy the whims of your imaginary stomach?

"Is this what you want?"

Walks Along the Trail grew quiet, hearing that. His bloodlust was not so far engaged that he did not see the reasoning behind Talks to God's words. What would he have the Hunters do, were it up to him? To go forth, like a galactic infestation, spreading misery?

Was this a proper legacy to leave his young? To leave anyone's young?

Walks Along the Trail felt the fight draining out of him. Talks to God was right; he could see that, in the rational portion of his mind. The thrill of the hunt was keen in his mind, the scent of the prey, the taste of flesh in the wild. He did not like the notion of giving up his dream of hunting alien flesh…

…..yet…

Perhaps he did not have to like it. Perhaps there were more important things in life.

He sagged in Talks to God's grip. "You…are right, respected one." Talks to God released him; Walks Along the Trail handed him his knife, bowing his head. "I have disrespected you, Revered One. My life is forfeit. Take it with honor." And he bared his throat for the killing slash.

The older Hunter smiled, sheathing his knife. "If you have learned from this day, you have done me no dishonor. Rise, take your knife, and go. This matter is closed; we will speak of it no more."

Walks Along the Trail stared at him. "But, but, honor…..!"

"Honor demands that one of us die. Yet there are three of us here: your old self, your new self, and my self. Let it be your old self. Arise in renewal, young Hunter. Your new life is spread before you." And he bowed to Walks Along the Trail. "May it be a long one, and full of honor and glory." And he left the square.

Walks Along the Trail was silent for a long time thereafter, staring at the floor, thinking. Finally, he picked up his knife and left as well.

Terra woke up in heaven. Where in the world had Garfield learned to do all that? Did she really want to know? He'd pleasured her for what seemed like an hour or more…..and she hadn't gotten to reciprocate.

She was nude, her sleep shirt having been discarded long ago. Languidly, she reached for him. Time to show him a thing or two. Yessiree.

Except he wasn't there. She looked up, sharply. He was not in bed with her. She listened intently; could he be in the bathroom? But she heard nothing from there…then she saw the scrap of paper on the dresser across the room.

Naked, she padded over to it, some part of her dreading to pick it up. It was a simple piece of paper, torn from a notebook, upon which he'd written: Terra. Please, please try to understand. I have to do this.

Vaguely, she wondered what those darker spots were that were appearing on the paper. Then she realized they were her tears.

To be continued…..

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