A/N: I try to explain some of the relevant details, but if you haven't read Shatterpoint, a lot of things may not make sense. This is definitely an odd fic for me, and it's only loosely tied to the setting we know and love from BLoSC, but I hope you enjoy it!
I waited at the gate, shifting from one foot to the other. Yellow petals drifted around me like snow. A veshka tree rose high above the lonely settlement, encircling it with its massive canopy. I'd never seen one so old before. It was far from home, just like me. I supposed that must have been what had saved it when fire had rained down on the ancient forests.
The brick walls of the Guardian's house spoke of the more recent past, though even there moss was beginning to creep between the cracks. I was lucky to have found the place, but, after all, I came from a family of seekers; people who knew where to look and who to talk to about hidden things. Once, before the age of peace, they had been called spies.
I wondered if the Guardian had known any of them. Perhaps he'd spoken to one of my great grandparents during a war council, or been slipped intelligence by a long dead cousin. I doubted he would remember if he had, but it was a nice thought.
I rattled again on the wooden gate, and the row of bells tied to the top clanged together tunelessly. The gate went no higher than my waist and I could've hopped over it in a moment if I'd wanted to, but trespassing was not the way with someone like the Guardian, and besides, I would've been a fool to think he had no better security than this. Sometimes a gnat would buzz by, just a little too slowly, and I was sure it was watching. The man had an affinity for insects, I'd been told.
I waited. Perhaps it was naive to imagine he would want to speak to me, but I'd come this far. Some whom I'd consulted on my quest had doubted the Guardian was even still alive, and some disputed his role as the great hero of revolution, claiming he'd been nothing more than a figurehead, nobody truly important. My search had seemed doomed to failure every step of the way, but nevertheless, here I was.
I didn't need all the stories about him to be true. I didn't much care about the war—this was a new age, after all, or so everyone liked to say—and it certainly wasn't why I'd come. I shook the gate harder. If he was waiting for me to give up and go away, he'd be disappointed.
More gnats were humming around me now, or things that looked like gnats. I waved them away. "Guardian!" I called. "Guardian, please let me in!"
A perfect yellow blossom landed on my hand, as if shaken from the tree by my voice. I paused to study it, for I'd never actually come across a veshka mature enough to flower before. The scent was sweet, and the wind had been carrying it to my nostrils ever since I arrived at the complex, but up close I detected another note, something I couldn't quite place.
"It smells like home, doesn't it?"
I spun around, my hand going at once to my hip. The flower fell to the dirt. It would've shamed my father to see me caught so unaware.
"What, no hello?" The robed figure laughed. "You did want to see me, didn't you?"
"Guardian?"
He waved a gnarled hand. "Come, let's talk inside. I've just put the kettle on. Do you like tea?"
He unhinged the gate and ushered me through. I would've felt compelled to obey even if I hadn't had business with him. Something about his voice seemed made for giving orders.
"Guardian," I tried to say, "I'm honoured—"
"Yes, yes." Petals stirred around him as he swept briskly down the path. I had expected a wizened old man, if he still lived at all. Not this. "Come in. Make sure you wipe your feet on the mat."
We entered the stone building. It was cosier inside than out, with great velvet curtains at every window and a large sofa in the centre of the room. I heard feet pattering down the hall—his servants, probably. I wondered who they were and how they came to this lonely place.
"So, you're just planning on standing there, eh?"
I shuffled awkwardly to the sofa and sat. Did he have any idea why I'd come? I wasn't sure how to begin.
"Do you take sugar?" he asked.
"Sugar?"
"In your tea."
I shook my head.
"Good. It ruins the flavour." He left the room and I heard him speaking to someone.
My eyes wandered to a board on the table. I didn't recognise the game, but red and black pieces were scattered randomly across the tiles, as if a match were underway. Did he play against his servants, or himself? If the tales of his tactical genius were true, I pitied his opponent.
Still, I consoled myself, those were only stories.
"Here." The Guardian returned, bearing a tray. "We're out of muffins, by the way."
I nodded, wondering what a muffin was. "Thank you for granting me an audience."
"Well, I couldn't have you banging on out there all day," he sighed. He poured a cup and handed it to me. "So. What's your name?"
"You can call me Mal."
"Mal. Well, well, well." The rhyme seemed to amuse him as he poured another cup for himself. "What brings you all the way out to this quiet little sector?"
I paused. "Tell me, sir. Are you really the Guardian?"
He pulled back his hood, and I saw his face for the first time. It was as they had all described, right down to the scars and the missing eye. His skin was a deep purple, and the other eye flaming red, while his mouth was a horrible, toothy grill. What surprised me was his left horn. Little patterns spiralled up it, carved into the bone. No one had mentioned those. I wondered what they represented.
"I am," he said. "But you can call me Zurg."
So I had found him at last. My heart quickened. "I'm honoured," I said again.
"I wish you'd be a little less honoured and get to the point."
I swallowed a big sip of tea. Immediately I was hit by the same feeling I'd had when I sniffed the flower—memories of my mother's arms and sitting in a field staring up at the blue rings circling the sky. I could hear my sister singing and feel the hot summer wind that had brushed through my hair the day I had my first kiss. I remembered how it had felt to clasp my father's hand as his breathe faded away and I'd choked out a prayer.
"Veshka tea," Zurg explained. "As I said, it smells like home. Everyone's home. Never could figure out why." Somehow he seemed to sip his tea through the grill, and I tried to imagine what feelings it might be conjuring in him. "That's probably why your people burned the forests. Can't have folks being nostalgic for the good old days when there's a war on."
"I wouldn't know."
"Yes, yes, I suppose the war is the good old days now. Long before your time." He shrugged. "But you didn't come to hear about that, did you?"
"No, sir."
"I didn't think so." He leaned forward. "Mal, hmm? I don't know any Mals. How did you find me?"
"It took me five years."
"Ah. So this isn't merely a social visit, eh?"
I considered how to continue. "I had family who fought in the war. I heard stories. Stories about a great hero."
"Yes?"
"I heard he came from another galaxy."
"Possibly."
"He was the greatest warrior his kind had ever seen—the only one who could stand against my people's forces. He saw through their lies and used their own schemes to defeat them."
"Well, I don't like to brag—"
"His name was Buzz Lightyear," I said.
Zurg frowned. Then he started to laugh.
"You know him, then?"
"You could say that," the Guardian answered, still chortling. "Oh, that's just typical." He sighed. "So, you want to know about Buzz Lightyear, is that it?"
I shook my head. "No, sir. I want to find him."
Zurg raised a brow. "You know all that happened a century ago, don't you?"
"Well, you're still alive."
"That's different."
"Perhaps." I shrugged. "If he's dead, he's dead. But I have to try."
"Why?"
This was the difficult part. "As I said, we all grow up with stories," I replied. "Many today are still inspired by what you did, when you overthrew Guzelian and ended his tyranny across the galaxy. But me, I heard tales of this Lightyear, of the Star Command he belonged to. They called to me. I don't expect you to understand, but for years I've known my destiny lay there, somehow, in that distant world of his."
Zurg tapped a claw against his mouth. "And you think I would know where to find him?"
"They say you arrived here through some sort of intergalactic portal." My hand drifted down. "When you retired after the war, you came back to the gateway as a guardian. You made your home on the planet below to continue protecting our galaxy, in case anyone should ever use the portal to invade us. This is that planet."
Understanding dawned on his face. "And you want me to grant you passage through the rift. You want to find Lightyear."
"If he still lives, yes."
Zurg leaned back. "And why should I let you?"
My fingers curled around the grip. "Do you know what vema den vemi means?"
"Vema den... yes. It's the old Heed code. Death demands death."
I had raised the gun before the last syllable was out his mouth. "Death demands death."
Zurg remained disappointingly calm. "Ah," he said. "You want to kill Buzz Lightyear. Sooo last century."
I didn't need to defend my actions to him. "You will take me to the gateway."
"Or what?"
"Vema den vemi," I repeated. "You know what it means, so you know I will do whatever I must."
The one red eye was fixed on me. It felt as if it were burning into my skull. "How did you end up with a blood debt against Lightyear of all people anyway?" he asked.
"I am my father's eldest daughter. I inherited his debts."
"Debts, plural? My, my, your family has issues."
I met the hot stare with one of my own. "Tell me, this portal... it does exist?"
"Maybe."
"Good. That's what I needed to know from you."
He snorted. "I won't let you through."
"I didn't come to ask permission." I stood up, keeping the gun fixed on him. "I came here to kill you."
Zurg didn't flinch. He simply looked confused. My finger hovered over the trigger, but I knew I couldn't let it happen like this. Where was the satisfaction I had always imagined? He had to understand.
"Death demands death," I said once more, though it sounded weaker than I'd hoped.
"What death? Who did I kill?"
I found I'd backed up against the window. A faint, sweet scent floated in from the tree. "My ancestors on my mother's side fought for the rebellion," I said, leaning against the cool brick wall. "But my father's family were loyalists. Two of them—my great grandfather and his sister—rose high in Guzelian's ranks. They were with him when he launched his invasion of your galaxy."
Zurg almost seemed to smile, though there was no warmth to it. "I remember that. Let's make peace... oh, that was a hoot!"
"I hear they almost succeeded," I continued. "But two men stopped them—Buzz Lightyear, and you. You destroyed Guzelian's flagship, something the rebels here had been trying to do for years."
He shrugged modestly.
"Many Heed were killed when it went up. My great grandfather's sister was among them." I gripped the blaster tighter. "He declared a blood debt that day, a debt my family can finally repay."
Zurg's face twisted into a sneer. "You wasted five years of your life tracking me down over something that happened a century ago? To someone you never even knew?"
"She was my blood," I hissed. I shouldn't have been surprised by his reaction. He was an outsider. When did they ever understand?
"And?"
"And you and your friend killed her!"
He waved a hand. "Collateral damage. You were the ones invading."
"She still died."
"It's been a hundred years! She'd be dead anyway!"
I wished it were Father standing there instead of me. He would've known what to say. "That's not the point!"
With a long, pitying sigh, Zurg rose from the sofa. I leaned forward, my finger caressing the trigger, but he took no steps toward me. "You Heed like to claim you're the most civilised race in the galaxy," he sniffed, "and yet your whole society is built on murdering each other every time you have an argument. You're children."
"The code isn't like that at all!" I said.
"Oh no? What about the conquest and the war? Didn't that all start with blood debts?" He shook his head. "Ah, I remember learning the history when I came here. A Heed was killed by an offworlder. Your code demands you strike back. You attacked their planet. When their allies came to their aid, more Heed were killed, and of course you had no choice but to declare war on them too. You crush them all beneath your feet and take everything that was theirs. That's your right, isn't it? And so you take over the galaxy. But it's not an invasion, no, it's justice. Very convenient."
"That was an abuse of the code! Many opposed the war."
"No, it was what happens when you use people's lives to score points. Believe me, I know."
"You know nothing," I spat, trying to remember the words my father had used whenever he explained the code. "We honour life. That is what the code means. If I let you live, if I don't hunt down Lightyear or his heirs, if I walk away because it all happened so very long ago, what am I saying? That my great great aunt's life didn't matter. But it did. No, I never knew her, and yes, a century has passed, but she mattered."
His eye remained on me, taking me in as I spoke. "And you believe this so strongly you would give up everything to find us? You would leave your own galaxy to look for a man who probably died before you were even born?"
"Seeva tel, seevas den hee," I said.
Zurg's face wrinkled as he muttered the words back to himself. "My Heed's a little rusty," he admitted. "Seeva... that means life, yes?"
"It's the other half of the code—the part most people forget. As for one life, so for all." Perhaps it was just the effects of the tea, but I could hear my father's voice as I said the mantra. He'd repeated it to my sister and I often enough. "If my aunt didn't matter, than no one does."
"So." He stood up a little straighter. "You're going to kill me then?"
"I must."
"What about all the talk of forgiveness and reconciliation after the rebellion? The new government passed an edict nullifying all blood debts incurred during the war. Eventually they outlawed them entirely!"
I snorted. "Does the law dictate right and wrong?"
"You'll be thrown in prison."
"No," I said. "I won't be here—I'll be in another galaxy, hunting down your friend." Steadying my hand, I took a deep breath. "Prepare to die."
He only laughed at me, and my finger hesitated on the trigger once more. I wished that for just a moment he might look more afraid than I felt.
"At least get your facts straight," he sneered. "Buzz Lightyear wasn't my friend. As if! We were the very worst of foes!"
"You... you fought side by side," I insisted. He was stalling for time, and I knew it, but part of me wanted to stall too.
"So we did. Do you know, we saved each other's lives that day? Me, saving Buzz Lightyear—imagine!" He waggled a claw at me. "Sometimes there are things bigger than hatred, Mal."
"Nice try," I said. "But I don't hate you. That's not why I'm here. You won't talk me out of this."
"Pity."
A ball of energy shot from his fingertip and crackled through me before I knew what was happening. I fell over backwards, screaming, and the gun clattered somewhere out of sight. My head hit the table, sending the playing chips flying. I wanted to move but my body was convulsing uselessly on the floor. All I could feel was pain.
Zurg's dark silhouette towered over me. He held my gun between his hands and crumpled it like paper, tossing it over his shoulder. I knew now how my quest would end.
"Did you really think you could just waltz in here and assassinate me?" The Guardian shook his head. "You, a nobody, succeed where countless others have failed?" He bent down, brushing the same claw under my chin. The pain was beginning to lessen as the electricity dissipated from my body. "How could you ever hope to defeat Buzz Lightyear? Even I never managed that!"
"I had... to try..."
He chuckled. I waited for him to kill me. I waited.
"So," he said at last, still kneeling over me, "are we even?"
I frowned.
"You gave it your best shot. You failed miserably, of course, but not bad for a first timer. Shall we put all this blood debt nonsense behind us now?"
The noise that came out of my mouth could've been either a laugh or a sob. Even I didn't know which. "It... can never end. The debt must be repaid."
"I'm offering you your life," Zurg hissed. "I suggest you take it while you can. Mercy is not one of my virtues."
I tried to sit up, but though the pain from the energy discharge had faded, my head was still reeling from its impact with the table. "You don't understand."
"Yes, yes, your pesky little code. Why don't you just let it go? You can't win! You see that now, don't you? Either you walk away or I kill you. Those are your only options."
"Then kill me," I forced the words past the lump in my throat. "If I can't honour the debt in life, my death will have to do."
"And then what? The debt passes to your next of kin, doesn't it?"
I nodded, though I'd never given the idea much thought. I'd been so sure I could carry it out myself.
"Who is that?" He leaned closer. "Who else am I going to have to kill?"
My eyes widened. "Don't—"
"Your children? No, you're still young. Your mother? A brother, perhaps? A sister? Yes," he read my face, "that's it, eh? The debt will pass to her, and now she'll have your death to avenge as well. Will she take her duty as seriously as you? Will she track me down and face me?"
I remembered all the stories our father had told us. I remembered my sister listening raptly beside me. She knew the code. When I failed to return home, she would come after me. I didn't doubt that she could find her way to the Guardian's house, just as I had. And just like me, she would do her best. But she hadn't trained—not the way I had. This wasn't supposed to be her destiny.
"Your great grandfather declared a blood debt against me because he loved his sister," said Zurg. "Is condemning yours really the best way to honour that?"
"What—" I was choking on tears now. "What else do you expect me to do? As... as for one life, so for all."
For the first time, he looked away, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Yes," he said, "you think that if you refuse to kill me, it'll be an affront to the meaning of life. Not many people would understand that. Buzz Lightyear certainly wouldn't. But I might."
"You're not Heed."
"I don't have to be," he said. "I grew up with my own codes. I learned them on my grandmother's lap, before your pathetic civilisation had even begun its galactic conquest. She taught me how the universe worked, and the kind of person I needed to be to live in it."
I managed to sit up. My head was still throbbing, and I could tell, however distracted Zurg seemed, he was ready to spring the moment I made a move. But I had none left.
"Do you know that the day of her death was celebrated on my world? Probably still is." He sank down to the ground, sitting beside me. "Imagine growing up hearing everyone cheering and laughing at the worst day of your life, throwing parties in the streets. Every year—every single year."
"Why would they do that?"
"Your galaxy still celebrates the day Guzelian was overthrown and the war ended, doesn't it?" He gazed up at the window. Shadows danced over his face as the tree swayed in the wind. "But whatever my people thought of the empress, she was simply Nana to me."
"She..." I paused. "She mattered."
"Yes. And I wish I wasn't the last person left alive who's sorry she died." He looked at me. "So you see, I understand your code. There was a time I lived by it too. I would've done anything to stop those fools and their laughter and set things right."
"What happened?"
"I didn't have a sister," he said, "so I had to learn the cost the hard way. Tell me, do you know who I am?"
"You're Zurg. The Guardian."
"No," he replied. "I was the Evil Emperor Zurg."
I blinked. The only empire I knew was the Heeds', and Zurg had never ruled it—history said he had appeared mysteriously a century ago and joined the rebel forces, leading them to victory against Guzelian. He had never held power, at least not here.
"I've racked up a thousand blood debts. If everyone came to collect, you'd be waiting a very long time for your turn."
"But you were a hero—"
"I've been so many things," he scoffed. "I've had more lives than you could ever imagine—a prince, an exile, a businessman, a castaway, a criminal, a warlord, a hero, a hermit. And you know what? After all this time, the thing that makes me happiest is sitting by the kitchen window with a muffin and a pot of fresh tea. I wish I could've figured that out another way. Other people paid the price for my mistakes." He sighed. "But still, I got here in the end, and so I let the past be the past. Perhaps that doesn't honour my grandmother, or my mother, or anyone else I lost. I didn't give them the deaths their deaths demanded. But I can give them a life—mine. Somehow, in spite of everything, I'm still here. And that matters."
I closed my eyes. I couldn't tell if I felt lighter or emptier. Or maybe it was just the blow to my head. Years of listening and training and searching seemed to melt away from me, and I didn't know what remained. What was I beneath that?
Zurg was looking at me again, in that worryingly piercing way. "Tell me," he said, "why did it take your family so long to find me?"
The question caught me off-guard. "No one... no one ever knew who the Guardian was," I said. "No one but the inner circle of the rebellion. The blood debt was against Zurg—my family had no reason to believe you were the same person. It was only when my father met my mother that he found out the truth."
"You said your mother's family were rebels. They knew my name?"
"Yes. Some of them were in the war council. They heard things. While my father's family were passing down debts, my mother's passed down secrets. My father was able to put the pieces together when they were married."
Zurg drummed his fingers on the brick floor. "A loyalist and a rebel. So a hundred years is long enough to put aside some differences after all, eh?"
I couldn't help a weak smile. "I suppose so."
Dusting off his knees, Zurg rose and held out a hand. I eyed it for a long moment. "Come have some more tea," he said. I clasped it and let him pull me up.
Steam wafted from the cup as he poured. Settling painfully into my seat, I followed the movements of his thin, purple claws. One was hooked daintily through the handle of the cup, while another suspended the pot. His hand had been cold when I touched it, like the skin of a reptile. I had never encountered a being like him before, and I wondered how long it had been since he'd seen another of his kind. I'd been away from my family only a few years, and already it felt like a lifetime.
He slid the cup and saucer across to me. "So," he said, "do you still want to kill me, Mal?"
I couldn't think of a good response, so I simply shrugged. It was not as if I had ever wanted to kill anyone. That wasn't the point. And it wasn't as if I'd stopped wanting to do my duty. But now I was no longer sure what that duty was.
"You can be honest. I won't be offended. I've wanted to kill lots of people."
That almost drew a tired laugh from me, but I could tell he wasn't joking. "I think I just want to go home," I said. My gaze drifted to the tea. I hadn't touched it yet, fearing the feelings I knew it would bring.
"Then go."
He still didn't understand. "I will be a disgrace to my family."
"Hmph. So was I, you know. You'll survive."
"But—"
"You'll survive." He leaned forward as he spoke, and I caught a crackle of light sparking off the fingers I'd been watching. His meaning was clear.
I sighed. "But what then?"
"Don't look at me! It's your life!"
My life. My life.
Yes, I thought, perhaps for the first time, it is.
Lifting the cup firmly to my lips, I let the memories wash over me. Scraped knees, my old room, Father's soup, sunny afternoons, my sister's giggle, schoolyard fights, the shriek of moonbugs in the winter, my first blaster, the look in my mother's eyes when I said goodbye. Home.
I thought of the aunt I had never known. She must have had a thousand memories just like these. All snuffed out in an instant. I looked to Zurg. He was sipping his tea, and the twitch of his face told me a lifetime that I couldn't begin to comprehend was hitting him too. Would destroying that life bring meaning back to my aunt's? And did she even need it? Was the meaning not there, in all the times she'd laughed and all the people she'd cared for, though they were now long gone too?
"Tell me something about your grandmother," I said.
Zurg looked up. "What?"
"Tell me something."
He thought for a moment. "She... she liked to paint when she was young. I never saw her do it, but there was a room in the palace full of her old work. She always said she would get out her brushes one day and paint whatever I asked for."
His voice spoke of a promise unfulfilled. How many decades, centuries even, had it been since the old woman's words? And he remembered them still. I wondered how young he had been when she died.
"Why do you ask?" pressed Zurg.
I set the cup back on its saucer. "Because there's no one I can ask about my aunt. My family passed down the debt of her death, but nothing of her life. It would've been nice to know... something." I met his eye. "But you remember your nana. And if I ask, then I will remember too, and something of her will live on."
"She's not your grandmother."
"No," I said. "But as for one life, so for all."
He smiled, and it was the first smile that didn't make me shiver. We spoke for the rest of the afternoon, and he told me many things—tales of the past, people he had known, places he had been, and little moments lost to time. I asked him about the engravings in his horn, and he told me the secret behind them. But that isn't mine to share.
I learned to my surprise that he had lost his eye before the war, not during, though he didn't say how. He spoke of his mother, and the life they had led after the old empress had died. He alluded to his empire once or twice, always fleetingly. I committed all these details to memory and promised to hold on to them.
I tried to ask about Buzz Lightyear, but he had only laughed and said that was a story for another time, or else ears would be burning. I didn't understand the joke, but I was encouraged by the implicit permission to visit again.
When I finally stood at the door, ready to go, he looked at me seriously. "Last chance to kill me, you know."
Even if I had still been armed, I wouldn't have needed long to consider. "Not today, Zurg," I answered. "But thank you for the tea."
The bells jingled as I shut the gate, and I walked away down the overgrown path, yellow petals falling on my shoulders. My gun belt was empty, but my heart was lighter than it had been in years, and I knew every step would take me closer to home.
What happened next I only learned much later.
Zurg went back inside the house, humming as he cleared the table and carried the tray to the kitchen.
"Is she gone?"
Dishes clattered as Zurg piled them into the sink. "Ah, you're still here. Haven't passed away in your sleep yet?
"You hush. I'm only a hundred and forty."
"You're a hundred and fifty."
"A hundred and— Don't sass your elders!"
"I'm older than you! And yes, she's gone."
"About time. I finished my crossword." A man rose shakily from the chair in the corner. Even at full height, he only came up to Zurg's chest, shrunken and withered as he was. He folded his arms. "And you're out of muffins."
"I know."
"So what did she want?" the old man asked, following Zurg as he returned to the living room.
"Don't pretend you weren't eavesdropping, Lightyear."
"A Ranger never eavesdrops," the man insisted. "But, er, I may have covertly gathered intelligence."
Zurg snorted.
"Anyhoo, I stayed out your way like you asked. Even when she pulled out the gun. Tell me, Zurg, did you know all along why she was here?"
"Hardly. I don't keep tabs on every random Heed in the galaxy. How should I know what any of them want?"
Lightyear narrowed his eyes. "But you suspected."
"I knew she was here for a reason. People don't show up on my doorstep by accident—I've made sure of that."
"And you still invited her in?"
"I was curious."
Shaking his head, Lightyear dropped onto the sofa. "I sure picked an interesting day to visit."
"You always do." Zurg remained standing. He rubbed his hands together sheepishly. "So, now that that matter is cleared up, perhaps we can finally talk. What's, er, new on your side of the universe?"
"You know the rules, Zurg. I can't tell you about that."
"Not even a teeny little hint? How's Trade World these days? Tangea? How... how are things on Planet Z?"
"Listen, Zurg," Lightyear's voice was firm, "I can come here. I can talk to you. But you will never go back, and you don't get to know what's going on over there. That was the deal. Your business with our galaxy is done."
"Yes... yes, I know."
"Besides," for a moment what had once been his trademark twinkle returned to the old Ranger's eyes, "it's Serenia now."
"Eh?"
"Hasn't been called Planet Z in a long time."
No emotion showing on his face, Zurg settled into the empty place on the sofa. "Serenia," he said softly.
Silence stretched out between them.
"You wouldn't actually have done it, would you?" Lightyear asked.
"Done what?"
"Killed that Heed."
"What, I'm not allowed to defend myself?"
"You were never in danger."
"She had a gun!"
"That gun?" Lightyear jerked a thumb toward the twisted ball of metal on the floor. "Come on. She was a kid. She didn't stand a chance against you. It sounded like she had potential, sure, but she needs proper training."
Zurg snorted. "Ranger training, I suppose?"
"Well, they did ask me to head up this year's recruiting drive. Should've given her a pamphlet. Oh, well, maybe next time." He leaned forward. "But would you have killed her, Zurg?"
The Guardian sighed. "Oh... probably not. You know how hard blood spatter is to clean off the furniture. Mind you, it would be an excuse to redecorate. I hear pastels are in now."
Rolling his eyes, Lightyear turned to the empty table. The board that had sat on it now lay upturned on the floor, surrounded by scattered tokens. "You could've at least been more careful about our game."
"That was her, not me!"
Lightyear tutted. "You're the one who interrupted our match to invite her to tea. Now look at it."
"Perhaps we can put everything back the way it was." Zurg bent to the floor and began retrieving the red and black pieces. They chinked together in his palm. "Who was winning?"
Lightyear rubbed his chin. "You know, I don't remember. Doesn't really matter, I guess. We can always start over."
A/N: I'm realising now that the last three fics I've written have all been about Zurg but from the POV of a female character who either doesn't or only barely exists in canon. Not sure what's up with that.
This was an interesting writing exercise, especially as I don't normally use first person, but it just felt right. I started it on a whim, with no idea where it would end up - I just wanted to do something with Zurg set way in the future, to see how he might have changed. A lot of the things that happened came as a surprise to me too as I was writing them, so it was fun trying to figure out where they would go next.
I consider this a possible version of what happens after Shatterpoint rather than a definite future, because I always intended for Zurg's choice at the end to be ambiguous. (I even almost wrote a companion fic to this exploring the other option - what happened if he returned to his own galaxy to continue his quest for revenge against his people - but I wanted this to stand on its own.) I also once considered writing a direct sequel to Shatterpoint that focused on the actual war against Guzelian, so I drew on elements of that for this fic. (For example, I have a pretty good idea what the carvings in his horn mean, though I decided to leave it a mystery for the readers.) Not sure how he became checkers buddies with Buzz, though...
Anyway, I have no idea if this story appeals to or is even comprehensible to anyone besides me, but I had a lot of fun writing it!
