Trials and Abrogations
Chapter 2: Decoding Crimes
interludes
Qwark's 'new friend' seems to mind other matters as he walks without much regard to the captain. Halls are lined beautifully with hand-crafted wooden doors that almost reach the full height of their walls. These doors have golden plaques beside them that display pretty important names, Qwark guesses.
Judge Isidore Bronislaw is a tall and wide Hoolefoid. His bald, magenta-skinned head rounds off to ridged, pointy ears, wide-set teal eyes, a long, narrow nose, and thin, darker lips. Add blackened blisters to the cheeks, forehead and spots that just miss the eyes, and you'd doubt he grew up by Hoolefar's waters. He walks in quite a ghostly fashion, his lengthy, swishing robes covering his feet. One of his thick hands locks around his wrist behind his back, and the green hero notices they're also awfully burned, black and blistered red. With this in mind, Qwark decides to include burn cream in his new lineup of Blaster products.
Bronislaw floats to a stop, Qwark nearly bumping into him. He fumbles with keys to a door named DARKS G.
"It is getting rather late, Captain Qwark - why don't you head on home? I wouldn't want to use up any more of your time..."
"No bother at all!" However, Qwark remains a little nervous at the sudden brush-off. "Probably need to sleep on that paper idea, huh? Well, if you're still considering, I have a picture of me escorting them here in my camera! Uh, does the paper accept selfies?"
"Quite sure it will. I am meeting with my newest criminal defense attorney, who'll look into this case. We're going to be doing a lot of big talk that I'm sure will bore you, so...Good day, Captain Qwark." He steps into the dark crack in the door, the interior obscured.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bronislaw? Last thing, I promise! Could you make sure they mention my incoming holofilm, My Blaster Runs 2 Hot? Preferably in red ink so that even the colorblind will see it..."
Qwark continues to ramble even as the tall door is slowly closing. "You know, if I was a lawyer, I'd like to do that one-worded 'Objection!' line...Hey, there's an idea for the film! I'll disguise myself as one of those brainiacs and then BOOM! Throw in some CG explosions and reveal myself to the ICE exterminators also in disguise...and I'll add you to the credit roll-!"
The door locks behind itself.
Qwark is left dumbfounded for a second, but then he turns to walk toward a series of escalators leading to the exit.
He fulfilled his duty as a prison escort and, unlike Ratchet, actually succeeded! He'd be given a spot in the paper in his honor, which meant bigger publicity in Polaris, bigger holofilm roles, and a bigger ego to gloat with. Overall, a Qwarktastic day. And just to be unselfish, he briefly wondered what kind of day his new friend Isidore Bronislaw was having. Probably an off one, seeing how the conversation gradually drifted from the super-zero's valiant deed and toward the satisfaction that specific criminals were in Bronislaw's possession and could finally see conviction. Qwark remembers the judge continually rambling about that until his phone rang, during which Qwark rehearsed some kind of redirection.
"Please excuse my phone calls, Captain. It was one of my guards. Someone was seen trespassing. Young ones these days always want to play the hero."
"And they can never get it right unless they have me as a mentor, am I right? And I actually tamed a Blargian Snagglebeast!"
Though only slightly curious about both the Progs and who trespassed earlier, Qwark guesses he'll teach the kid about heroism sometime tomorrow. After all, good heroes need rest!
"I thought he'd never leave."
The judge hears the young voice direct towards an oversized armchair, flickers of fire lighting the leather cozily.
"Nothing wrong with showing a fellow around. Does that bother you, Mr. Gumblebrick?"
There's the clatter of a china cup returning to a coaster and the creak of an ancient chair becoming weightless. A pint-striped suit and a stunningly bright brooch against the lapel adorn the man's olive green skin. His short-cut dark hair and brown eyes frame his young face. The full lips beneath the drooping handlebar moustache disjoin with a breezy smile.
"Not at all. As you can tell by my mood brooch, Mr. Bronislaw, orange means I'm quite content."
Bronislaw sees this as an invitation to step forward and shake hands with his subordinate. The two smile like the good acquaintances they are, remaining standing and professional.
Bronislaw is one of few in the Pent that has heard Gumblebrick's remarkable story. He was raised on Planet Endako in the Bogon galaxy as a foster kid, and was quite self-sufficient: by age five, he was read the Encyclopedia of Planetary Asymmetry cover to cover in class, outsmarting even the Terachnoid kids; he graduated high school at age ten; and he recently completed the long stretch of law school with a minor in galactic history, now in his early twenties. Bronislaw met him in a referral from the President of Bogon and hired him immediately. For the past two years, Bronislaw has befriended Gumblebrick, watching his skill grow as quickly as his moustache. The young man represented the criminal side of court without ever batting a judgmental eye.
The judge and chief was also set on keeping this attorney, as he was accustomed to letting each new one go after one year. Maybe because it's the boy's untold past that intrigues him most, as he enjoys small bites of it on rare occasions.
"Now, shall we begin?" says Gumblebrick, gesturing to two manila envelopes resting on his shadowed desk, stamped and labeled: PROG, NEFTIN; PROG, VENDRA.
The judge's half singed eyebrows raise to the very top of his forehead. "These two were escorted here by Captain Qwark?" This is more asked to himself than to the young attorney, who looks at him bewildered.
"I suppose so," Gumblebrick answers, watching the judge take the older twin's file into his hand shakily. "Did you suspect other, less deadly space criminals captured simultaneously?"
Bronislaw's agape mouth closes slowly. "It's not that, it's just...ironic, in every sense. I knew I had to keep bystanders off of my criminals, but...This is..."
Gumblebrick swipes Vendra's file from the table. He analyzes his boss, who practically falls to a sit in his once occupied chair. The judge untwists the pulley-like string binding the file. Runs charred fingers through the tops of each paper that fans out like an accordion. Lifts a few and spreads them out against the table beside Gumblebrick's empty cup. A recent mugshot of Neftin's grimacing face and profile, with a small bio in chicken scratch. A grocery list of "confessions." Reports from interviews of his location at large half a year ago.
"He hasn't changed a bit..." the judge mutters below a whisper, the crackles of the fire absorbing it.
"Sir?" Gumblebrick asks in a believably concerned voice, masked with his stoic expression and leafing of Vendra's file.
I've played by the rules for a very long time, Bronislaw muses inside, afraid the fire won't mask these words. This could be my chance to inflict ultimate conviction.
"Mr. Gumblebrick, I'm only allowed to tell you so much. Because we are so well acquainted, I do not want a bias to persuade my verdicts. You are quite aware of this, but I must repeat this to you with practically every case I've involved you with for the past year, all criminal court cases..."
Gumblebrick nods obligatorily. "I understand, go on."
"You are representing twins Vendra and Neftin Prog." His professional voice reigns over his tired slouch. "They've been accused, through confession, of murder, theft, arson, and kidnapping. Vendra was convicted of the last two crimes six months ago on Planet Terachnos. The blame for the recently accused crimes appears to lean toward her, so you must find a way to equalize it, or eliminate it."
Gumblebrick sets Vendra's file down on his desk, then returns to the side of his chair. His brooch turns bright yellow, and he can hardly contain an excited chortle. "Won't this be fun. Have you decided what you are going to do first?"
"When the Polaris Defense Force arrives tonight with their 'requested package,' you will have Vendra on the interrogation floor as I promised." Bronislaw notices his attorney about to ask, and he stands, answering, "Yes, just one of them for now. I will be speaking to this one-" he motions said person with a tightly gripped flap of the envelope "-in the meantime."
Rumors of tussles both self-inflicted and initiated stain the chambers offered. Unchanged and overused, the too-small bed whimpers when sat upon. The three chipped walls reek of dried blood, recycled body odor, and Agorian sweat. Throughout the floor, occasional slams reverberate from various cells like distant drums. From a black-belt Blarg to a Platinum champion Agorian, here lies a slew of compulsive, domestically violent bullies on the tenth level of the Penitentiary.
Neftin Prog contemplates in his cell, which, from the dim shadows and empty neighbors, can allow deep thought. He is in prison, security heavy, and treatment manageable. He was separated from Vendra, as predicted. He can barely get around and muses that he either needs a bigger cell, or a smaller body, though both seem impossible.
"Why are you so scrawny, Nef?" He recalls a shrill voice, the unchanged anger of his seven-year-old sister. "Look at these arms! They're like chicken legs! If they were tougher, you could beat up those punks that picked on me today! Again!"
Now the thickness of a Snagglebeast's tongue. Veins like vines run down his pale arms and pump blood through the cybernetic pipes implanted from a large, slouched shoulder blade to his back. The contraption's innards around his chest and torso are exposed to the air now, dark purple and pulsating, because even the largest jumpsuits made the Nether feel like it was going to rip. Until a custom-made suit could be situated around his strange body, Neftin was forced to remain bare from the waist up.
This body, his life...Vendra sacrificed so much for him. And he turned her in as well as himself, thinking he was doing what was best for them both. Neftin remembers spending years thinking of some kind of way to repay her when she reconstructed his body to life, so he reluctantly decided to help her reunite with the Nethers. Eventually, he, too, became immersed in the project, so much that he spent months researching transdimensional experimentation, aiding her with every trial and tweaking each error. And when she'd finally see her friend, she'd thank him. Look at him again, instead of longingly at empty walls and dejectedly at exploded machinery.
A slam to the ground from the cell above him generates like an earthquake, crumbling his thoughts. Neftin sighs. The inmates are so rough, tough, and violent that Neftin is surprised he doesn't see any of the Thugs-
The door to the level slides open; escorted by a score of guards are a score of space crocodiles. Some march in obedient silence, while others struggle and whine. A few even mutter like scaredy cats about a "brutally armed Lombax." Neftin's about to lean into the bars and get his recidivists' attention, until two in particular come down babbling, pause, and then slam into the bars at the sight of him.
"Hey, where's our money, huh?! 'Cuz of you, we got busted for robbin' banks- Oww!" One Thug is headbutted lightly by the one next to him.
"Remain silent, ya fool!" He glares at Neftin like he wants to spit at him. "He ain't worth it. I can't believe our boss would stoop so low!"
"Alright," barks a guard, squaring their shoulders away, "move it. No need to bother him."
A third Thug, who'd lagged close behind the two talkers, wordlessly flipped Neftin a lowly cuffed bird upon passing.
Neftin wasn't good with naming over two hundred Thugs, but he was familiar with the three "high school buddies": Vlad, Boris, and Gleb. Hard to forget the names of the ones who advertised Destructapalooza. Especially since Vlad got his tongue cut out for a slip of a swear word.
After the Thugs clear out, another figure would've camouflaged behind them if not for his height. A wide man stops in front of the Nether's cell, his dark attire delaying sight adjustment. Neftin leans up, but doesn't press into the bars, keeping within the safe shadows of his cell. The man is a Hoolefoid, with blisters throughout his body, nobly known despite that. When teal pupils meet Neftin's single eye, time seems to slow, the background noise quieting. Silk sleeved arms spread to Neftin as if he wants to hug a dear friend.
"Neftin Prog. Read your files, and I'll say I'm astounded by the list of possible convictions on you."
Neftin scoffs, knowing feigning strangeness is futile. "'Vote for Isidore Bronislaw.' I remember your election flyers, most of which I've seen in the trash, from about a year ago. Vendra and I were here stealing the museum's tour-bot."
"Now re-elected Judge and Chief of this Penitentiary, if you'd be so kind." The judge clears his throat, adjusting his snappy tone. " Now that we're acquainted, let's return to your circumstances. I see you behind bars, so I assume you did something very wrong. Your violent nature is beyond that of even Romulus Slag, but you do much less skewering and more conclusive beating. Which is why murder stunned me most. Your control's finally snapped, hasn't it?"
Large teeth grind together angrily. "You said you just read my case files. Stop acting like you know me well."
To this, Bronislaw smirks lightly, knowing the large Nether has more to say.
Neftin looks down, ashamed, at his hands. "I'd be delusive to say I didn't kill them, but I've never had someone else's blood and guts on my hands-."
The judge holds up his muddy pink palm. "Now, I suggest you say no more. Don't you know that you're digging your own grave just by saying what you're saying now?" His gentle tone turns belittling again. "Or are you that used to spilling the beans, such as theft and murder? Don't you know that you have the right to remain silent, to understand that anything said can be used against you in court, that you can be issued an attorney in your defense?" He sees Neftin trying to comply by biting his lip. "You may speak to answer, Neftin."
"I know all that. Just never thought of it...when I opened my 'big mouth.'" There's a guilty meekness to his voice.
"Here's how my Penitentiary runs." Bronislaw steps closer to the bars as if they should cradle his words. "All criminals brought here are given a fighting chance. If taken here, they are kept in cells until a court case is arranged. About eighty percent of lawsuits are civil, like damages from a bank robbery, while the remaining twenty are criminal, as in a murder accusation. One of my attorneys represent you, the defendant, while the prosecution represents their client's problems. After I've listened to both sides, I reach the verdict in either case, with the aid of a jury in a criminal sense. Punishments vary from a few months to life imprisonment, and, not issued as of yet, the death penalty."
With a leer, the Hoolefoid steps back, the large Nether never losing face.
"Instead of letting the two of you waste away in jail, you and your sister are going to court. When you brought yourself here, you were not issued your rights, correct? Instead, you were asked questions so that you could be convicted without your voice. I will listen to both sides well and make the decision that'll bring justice to this city - no, the entire galaxy."
Neftin shakes his head, those words rattling inside. " Court? But, why bother? You'll only convict us for what we did. We're criminals-!"
"Who are innocent until proven guilty. I will return with further details. I wish you and your sister luck."
Bronislaw steps back and walks away with his quiet, almost afloat gait. Before Neftin thinks he's gone, the judge's voice carries to his cell.
"By the way...a few members of the Polaris Defense Force are here to speak with you two. We're taking Vendra for the time being. If she's good, maybe you'll see her tonight."
When the floor's door seals shut, it's like all other activity resumes.
There's no way to tell how much time has passed; Vendra is miles beneath the sun and moon.
It took a complaint for one of the patrol guards to finally liberate her of the chains around her wrists. She was rapidly approached from behind at gunpoint by one guard while another undid her bindings. The guards continue to over-exaggerate. Without her powers, a hostile takeover wouldn't be as flawless as the Nebulox's.
The Nether lay on her drab grey bed that mimics a warped rock slate. A sigh wisps from her lips, her eyes lull closed, and she occasionally rubs each sore wrist.
Aside from the perpetual background noise of other inmates (hands shaking the bars, heads banging into walls, or the cries of druggies suffering hallucinations of creatures crawling in their skin) and the shuffling of guards' feet to silence it, a sound scratches at the back of Vendra's skull and spreads the sooner she realizes it:
Vendra...Vendra. Vendra!
Her eyes shoot open, dart to the the wall behind her, blank with concrete. He sounds so close, she knows he's here. But that's impossible; all of the Nethers were pulled back into the Netherverse. There's no way he's in her head...Her hands quiver in her lap.
Vendra, koo madap apdo guchri koom yushu...
"So you decided to leave me with a little parting gift: telepathy?" she whispers, sitting up on her bed.
Koom gaprofrush haktrah prog subfrush enagori.
"'Sacrifice'? For consuming the powers you gave me?" She shakes her head. "How like you."
Apdo taghmi koob, Netherva domegu banen tor.
"What are you talking about?! You betrayed me!" She stands, her eyes to the ceiling, the back wall. "You promised me a new life. You promised me we'd be friends!"
The creature only grumbles wordlessly.
"What are you planning, Mr. Eye?"
Koom aktram vom apdo...
"Your return...in me?"
Anjo...rababo...shringafu... Sengri pahn apdo hub?
"No, just..." She felt anger and rage upon arriving here, but she didn't think it would matter to him. "Get out of my mind. You have no right to speak to me."
Koom aktram...
"Stop..."
...vom apdo...
"Shut up...!" Her eyes squeeze shut.
AKTRAM...KOOM AKTRAM!
"LEAVE!" she screams to the ceiling.
"Now, that's not very nice. Must we start this journey hating each other?"
Vendra gasps loudly and spins around. Standing in front of her cell is a green-skinned man no taller than she, with brown eyes and hair, an overgrown moustache, a suit and a brooch. He looks like he could slip through the bars with how lean he is. Without question, she knows he works with Polaris' legal system, slight nostalgia making her head spin. She has seen court six months ago, but...What now? Why is he...smiling?
"It's nice to meet the criminal responsible for the life I now live."
One of Vendra's eyebrows raise. She tilts her head, silently requesting elaboration.
"It took me years, but I was finally able to get connections to my past. After aimlessly leafing through thousands of could-be ancestors and coincidences, I accessed the IRIS Supercomputer a year ago. I spoke with it for hours and it told me the names of who I can only think to be my parents...taken away from me by a sudden Alpha Nine evacuation. Six months later, when you're arrested for kidnapping Terachnoids, I discover that you and your brother made my parents disappear. And that about twenty years ago, you were lurking in Weeblesnog City at the remainder of Mayor Gumblebrick's term. Name ring a bell?"
The choppy tone in his voice annoys her. She grumbles, "Yes, it does, and I was there. What's your point?"
"Good," he says, ignoring her question. "Because he is my father."
His facade finally falters into one stricken with betrayal. Vendra's mouth gapes in surprise. This man - a boy two decades ago, probably - was on Silox during the evacuation, and had apparently escaped. There were thousands of children evacuated, namely Planet Yerek. Planet Silox was a gullible civilization, with a lazy legislature; it was effortless to convince its people it was haunted by ghosts and demons.
"The city's been abandoned for decades, we saw to that." Could he be a witness siding against her? Were there others remaining of the mess not thoroughly cleaned up?
"What did you say?" Vendra practically whispers.
"Yes, apparently when you were clearing out the entire sector, some people were clinging to not only their lives, but the lives of others. My father wanted the population cleared safely for the sake of voters. He knew how to be nothing else but mayor. Couldn't even spare time to be a parent. Because my mother, due to give birth to me any day, decided to give me up for adoption. Funny, right? Well, she had no choice. No time to weigh her options - too many bodies scrambling to escape a haunted world. Planet Endako in the Bogon galaxy was where she thought I'd grow up safe, healthy, and strong. Once old enough to support myself, I grew up to be a lot like you: selfish, greedy, and innovative. Thought no one was good for me until I met my colleagues. Kept every bolt in my name hidden until I decided to engage in intergalactic travel. Desperate, but not senseless, to go to college to become a historian to learn about the family I never knew, yet I abrogated it to study the criminal mind, and how I could dissect it and perhaps justify it...
"Now, why am I telling you this? Because I, Darks Gumblebrick, your criminal defense attorney, am just like you, Vendra Prog. I, too, want to find my family. Although what you did cost me my kinship, I like your will, and I want to draw from it like a river."
Vendra can see longing in the dark brown eyes severed by the prison bars. Her lips are tight as she doesn't speak. So, he was an infant when it happened. No real memories, only facts from the guileless Supercomputer. Despite the title of criminal defense attorney and being on her side, he's still a witness she should get rid of before he can betray her.
"You were left without any last words to your Nether leader. Would you like to hear him apologize in person, or continue to imagine it in your head? All I need is your cooperation. If you trust me, I will do everything in my power to set you and your brother free..."
As if punctuating his words, the cell door slides loudly open.
Once she and Nef are freed, then she'll kill him.
chapter 2
"I haven't seen you this close since I tried to blow you up. How've you been, Ratchet?"
Vendra says that as if it's been weeks, not hours, since we last interacted. I look up to her smirking at me. Now that I'm sitting across from her, I can see that we're about the same height. She may get as much leverage with her hair as I can with my ears, but cut those out, and we're level. I hesitantly drum my fingers against the white table, where above are rows of bright white lights that make a slight halo around Vendra's jumpsuit.
The nostalgia and my pride prevent me from answering her question right away. Vendra still dons her prisoner identification, 9971, and her ungloved hands and orange jumpsuit remind me where she really is. Powerless, pink magic used up banishing her leader. Incarcerated somewhere that's heavily secure, ground level, and not exploding.
At that thought, my mind fills with so much red and deafening crackles that I need a distraction.
My wandering eyes find that the cuffs left obvious and unsightly bruises around her wrists. They're about as bright and hot as the light that begins to make me sweat. I justify that as to why I'm trembling, my hand chattering against the table.
Her hand crawls like a spider toward mine, her long fingers freezing over my knuckles through my gloves. She isn't sympathizing me; I'm not stupid as to think that. My despondence seems like the answer she seeks, and can sense through touch. I slide my hand from the short table into my lap before her fingers can chill or even comfort me.
My shame is too evident with my sweating, shaking, averted eyes and heavy ears. I watched an inferno engulf my friends to charred shreds. I watched a vortex of emotion break on Talwyn's face when I told her I'd talk to Vendra instead of her.
"Why?" she'd asked, her voice unnaturally quiet. She'd found it again when her fingers clutched my forearm. "You're not going near her yourself, Ratchet!"
"This has nothing to do with how dangerous she can be!" I'd said louder than I'd intended. "I'm going."
"You promised me, Ratchet." She let me go slowly. "Back at the museum, you said that those answers were something I could ask for."
"That was before I knew...I knew we were even doing this now!" It was in that moment that the mahogany hallway seemed dull, the narrow walls suffocating, the door at the short end like a mile walk and leading to a deep coldness that I wouldn't be able to rise up from quickly. I surmised that the shock of all this made me yell, which was unnatural for me as well. "Now that we are, I'm not sure it's the right thing."
"Why not?!" Talwyn threw her arms up, her eyebrows just as high.
"On the Nebulox, I could've reasoned with Vendra - I could've talked her out of setting off the blaster mines in the ship and spared Cronk and Zephyr's lives! I need to say what I should've told her then."
"But if you all died, then what?! I'd be right here anyway, so why won't you let me talk to her?!"
"Because you weren't there!" I shouted with hands thrown out.
Talwyn had stepped back at the force of my words, or maybe it was my words themselves. Her lips parted and quivered, and she held onto her elbows tightly and stared down. I looked away as I continued. "Look, I just...couldn't wrap my head around anything after the ship exploded, and it took Clank to snap me out of it and leap for our lives. I want Vendra to know how that made me feel, so she can see what she took away from us. You understand now?"
Talwyn stepped in front of me and looked ready to hit me, but instead, her hands fell to my shoulders and shook me a little. I didn't turn away from her intense, slightly reddened, blue eyes.
"When you get out of there, I want to hear the truth, word for word. Promise me."
As I was about to answer, a guard cleared his throat for Talwyn's attention. She turned, removing one hand from me, and replied.
The guard, with shifting eyes, told her, "If you want to listen to their conversation, we're recording in this room-" he pointed a thumb toward a steel door labeled RECORDING- "if you'd like. Just...don't touch anything." As soon as he finished speaking, he disappeared back into the room.
Before Talwyn turned to follow, I took hold of her fingers in my hand. She wasn't facing me; I didn't expect her to. My eyes stared at her profile, her bottom lip chewed and her eyes blinking rapidly.
"Even if you couldn't listen in there, you know I'd tell you everything, right, Tal?" I asked her lowly, a tender voice I rarely used, even with Clank.
She only nodded, breaking from my hold and entering the advised room quickly.
I slid my back down the polished brown wall, now about the height of Clank, who I felt pat my shoulder as I put my head against my knees.
"I shouldn't have yelled at her like that..." I lifted my head and half-expected a lecture from Clank.
"Miss Apogee is not weak-hearted," Clank assured me. "Even though you did break your promise to her, Ratchet. I honestly believe she could have gotten the answers she sought from Vendra herself, but-" he added quickly before I could curl tighter guiltily - "I do see your reasons for wanting to go instead. Vendra relates to you in ways I am sure Talwyn will not understand without explanation."
I only sighed, my voice sapped and tactless.
"You may know this, but, Vendra was not truly evil. I believe she may have been more misguided than anything. There was a change in her when she was thrown into the Netherverse. She was a different person in there...more...approachable."
"I'll...keep that in mind. Thanks, Clank." I stood up, my ears perking with some confidence. "Wish me luck, huh?"
I patted Clank on the head affectionately and journeyed down the hall.
I just couldn't have Talwyn asking these burning questions I have for Vendra. Since losing Cronk and Zephyr was something I witnessed, I should resurface it.
"How 'bout a different question," she says at my silence. "Why are you interrogating me?"
This is the only question I'll allow her to ask before I string mine. With a silent inhale, I find my voice and speak honestly.
"Because I want to see the good in you."
Her head turns to the side, her hand over her mouth as she laughs, boisterous and disbelieving.
"Well, I wanna see where it went," I add defensively. She snickers, and I suppress a growl and the urge to stand and get in her face. "This isn't funny, Vendra. You killed my friends, and I'm not letting you leave until I find out why."
"Oh, you fool!" she drawls. "You want to extract the evil from me, hero? Imprisoning me mustn't be enough for you."
"Which is why I'm here."
I want her focus, which is why I don't regret what I'm doing now: I return her gesture but completely take her hand in mine. It feels like it's pumping icy blood, stealing the warmth through my glove. Her smirk disappears, her eyebrows lift and she blinks, her lips parting to show her sharp teeth. She looks almost bashful, and that's the idea. I want her as vulnerable as possible. It takes some willpower not to smirk, but I keep the priority on the surface.
"Were you ever able to explain to Neftin exactly why you needed Mr. Eye as your friend? Or did you leave that to your holo-diaries?"
It looks like I hit a nerve as Vendra's fingers twitch above mine. She shakes her head, which probably answers my first question.
"At one point, I had the same ambition as you, and I'd only kept it to myself. I'm willing to open up to you about it...if you do the same."
"The story of your cowardice...and my bitterness...it's intriguing, so...let's do it." Her hand slips from mine, and it warms up again.
I lean forward in my seat and prop my elbows on the table. "The details of my journeys over the past three years aren't important to you, so, I'll be jumping around a bit. I was fine with leaving my life as is, but then Clank went missing. I wanted to know the origins of my past again. I was close to convincing myself that my friends would be fine without me, and that I'd abandon Clank to repair the Dimensionator to find the Lombaxes instead. Because without Clank, I'd thought, I wasn't home, and I needed to find it. Cronk and Zephyr found me with the device, took it by Talwyn's order, and she slapped me. I hardly knew her, and her lecturing threw me for a loop. She said I shouldn't abandon searching for someone I cared about. I then remembered she was searching for her father and wouldn't tolerate anyone mocking those ambitions like I was. The search for my kind was pushed aside for Clank.
"About two years later, I met a Lombax named Alister Azimuth. At first, he thought I was an impostor, but he also hadn't seen another Lombax since they disappeared. He was fascinated by my life as I'd told him, thinking how different things would've been if he'd found me sooner. He knew so much more about hobbies and lifestyles of Lombaxes that mirrored mine but were less...solitary. The only living, breathing Lombax I ever got to know...died too soon. I fled from this galaxy and the the idea of finding the Lombaxes if it meant any one I'd meet could disappear or die. So yeah, I guess I did become scared.
"Finding my race wasn't brought up again until you came in. The whole 'only-one-of-your-kind-living-here' story related back to me on the media multiple times, and that's when I'm sure you and Neftin heard of me way before you were arrested. The stories of how I defeated Nefarious with nothing but a Sonic Eruptor didn't phase you, but the ones of me banishing my quest for my kind did. I think my friends, some that I've lost along the way, have stuck around to hold me here. As long as I have them, I think I'll manage. So..." I close my hands, "story of my cowardice."
Vendra's hands flutter together in a small applause. "Great story." She returns to trying to see through to me, even after my explanation. "I can tell what you're thinking: did your friends die to reinstate your decision to find your race?" She shakes her head, lifting a wrist and examining the bruise. "Not quite."
"It's your turn." I''ll get that answer, way down from inside you. "Start with your childhood. You know, how everyone picked on you, ignored your pleas for help, the feeling of being an outcast? Lemme tell ya: been there, done that."
She has no choice but to answer; I've cut pretty deep, even turning the knife to myself. Her eyes grow big, and she stares at the table, recalling. A little Lombax endured the same thing once, twice, countless times.
"My first memory is of Nef and me shivering in some dark, abandoned caves. We shared a baby blanket and were crying, and before long, we were rescued by the Guardian of Meero Orphanage. I thought we'd found a home there, but it turned out to be more of a sham. The teachers and caretakers did the bare minimum overseeing the children, banishing them to detention. All of them were inexperienced volunteers. Of course, as a kid, I knew none of this. I always thought they were just being mean to us. And the kids were even worse -experienced bullies. They never played with me, pulled my hair, called me a freak. More than once I was thrown into the mud and told to change my pasty white skin. Almost pushed off the sides of Meero Cliffs. Since Nef looked short and scrawny like me and got bullied, too, telling him got me nowhere. Not a single day went by without some form of harassment. I'd gotten so angry that I've beaten a kid until his face bled, bashed another's head against old glass, and shoved a third off a cliff. He survived."
Vendra sees my widened eyes soften a bit. "They made you that angry? Come on, I'm sure your days weren't all that bad..." But in saying this, I was only trying to convince my younger self.
"Most of the time I ignored the teasing, attacked when I couldn't. That's why I began keeping a holo-diary. I wanted to see if the bullying would recede and record my turn-around days in the orphanage. I couldn't shake the thought that...someone, everyone, was in on some big secret about Nef and me. Someone knew something about my past and why we'd been found as shunned infants. When I thought I wouldn't find answers, I returned to the caves, and met him.
"When I wasn't in detention, I'd run off back to our room to draw. One of my crayons slipped beneath the floorboards, and uprooted them to retrieve it. I heard a hollow wind. Caves beneath the orphanage. I didn't know what else I'd find, but I wandered into them optimistically. My childish mind still hunted for that crayon, and I asked the strange, ghostly creatures if they'd seen it. I wasn't afraid, but intrigued, especially when they seemed to understand me. They lead me to a wall with bright purple cracks running through it. A few of them slipped in simultaneously, breaking the wall down. In the middle of stalagmite fluid was my crayon. The wall in front of the puddle suddenly blinked, and I screamed. A large purple eye began speaking to me in a language I surprisingly understood. 'Don't be afraid,' it said, 'Are you lost? It's a first, seeing a Nether beyond the crossing.' I asked him what he meant, and he told me it didn't matter, because he seemed to have found a friend in me. He liked my smile, my voice, everything about me. Nothing was flawed to him. I was just an ordinary girl. That night, I gave him his name, Mr. Eye, and every day since, I slipped from the surveillance of the orphanage to talk to him."
"And you never suspected any ulterior motive?" I ask, remembering Mr. Eye cared for Vendra as a pawn, not as a person.
She shakes her head. "I preferred it because, whenever I'd return to that surface of an orphanage, I'd just revert to anger. Being absent from Mr. Eye was like sitting by cold fire. I wanted to hurt anyone who wasn't kind to me, because I never knew how much of a friend someone besides my brother could be. I thought to get revenge. Have Mr. Eye by my side to scare those bullies away from me, exemplify my pride to my race to those ignorant teachers. Neftin didn't see why right away, even as I showed him my findings. I suppose...he never fully understood the craving for affection I had. He thought the victim was the only role he and I were supposed to play. I needed to know there was someone besides him who cared about our existence. I know he cared."
Vendra carries a face of longing when she finishes, and I clearly see her burning desire to bring Mr. Eye into our world. Someone else, like she said, who cared about their existence. To give at least one damn about a lost race. It blatantly reminds me of myself, when Alister convinced me to reverse time to bring my parents back. To revive my innovative race to take pride in. It took Clank, my present, to pull me back down. I wonder if Neftin was - and if not, why wasn't he - that for Vendra.
"Mr. Eye told me he'd take care of Nef and me once we separated him from the Netherverse. He said we'd be together like a family," she continues softly. "I wanted that enough to do it. I thought we'd be able to find him a home-"
For that giant thing? I think impulsively.
"-and in return, he'd give me protective armor to visit the Netherverse..."
"And...see your parents?" I offer.
"I didn't want closure," she snaps. "I needed to explore my home world. If I ever got the chance to meet my parents, I'd kill them."
"For abandoning you. Not to ask why they made that sacrifice?" I say instead of choice, which usually causes reconsideration. Her bluntness doesn't surprise me, however.
"That would be my only reason for ever returning there now."
I don't ask her if she thinks they're still alive, or if she'd return for other reasons. Instead, I mentally check off that anger seems to fuel any murderous desire, and move on. Before she can take the anger out on me.
Vendra rests a hand underneath her chin. I hardly move a muscle. It's been about fifteen minutes. We're just getting started.
"Tell me about your first trial, Vendra."
The gears, the setting, shift, so it takes Vendra a moment to recall the events that weren't six months ago to her prior knowledge.
"The only thing I knew for sure was that I was on Planet Terachnos, even after assaulting Pollyx Industries. I remember the high glass ceiling of the courtroom. It was cold. Let me out, I'd said, I don't belong here. I was disoriented. A Mag-Net was used to capture and arrest me, and I'd been blacked out sometime after. By the trial, I couldn't tell how much time had passed. I started convulsing right there in the room, and I started screaming for my brother. I spent time in solitary before they brought me back out. The trial went on quickly. I had no alibi against hundreds of Terachnoid witnesses. Those geeks sentenced me quintuple life on just kidnapping." She pauses. "And arson, and assault."
"Why did they need to put you in cryosleep?"
"When I convulsed, I felt scared and lonely. My powers went out of whack. I literally lifted the whole courthouse from its foundation."
So fear makes her lose control of her powers. I recall the Nebulox takeover. Arrogance increases it, I guess.
Vendra looks at both her palms and shuts them. "I guess the media covered that part up."
I guess they did; all I heard during the news of Vendra's sentencing was the chance to break in the Nebulox Seven recently operational. Since then, Polaris Defense had meeting after grueling meeting about "somehow getting involved" with capturing Neftin, who'd escaped with Pollyx as his hostage.
Talwyn - accompanied by Cronk and Zephyr by default and Qwark through a need to "end every speech with a dose of propaganda" - traveled across main sectors of the Polaris galaxy to publicly ease minds, assigning scouts in every sector to scope out Neftin and Pollyx.
After Clank and I somehow got stuck in a meeting titled "Why Polaris's Galactic Rangers Suck"- in which our PD supervisor shunned all troopers' skills - and the group returned, I practically begged Talwyn to bump us up. Mainly why, six months later, we were on the team as prison escorts.
"Neftin told me that I'd been in cryosleep since my sentencing, so since then, I'd been on the Nebulox Seven?" Vendra asks, my thoughts returning.
"As part of your quintuple life sentence, you were to be transported from prison ship to prison ship in classified areas of the galaxy," I confirm. "A transfer's scheduled every six months; you spend half a year in sleep isolation, the other half among prisoners. Before the mark, the search was on for escort volunteers. Thinking it'd be simple, I raised my hand. So did Clank, Cronk, and Zephyr. Other members of Polaris Defense got involved to ensure our safe return. It took a while just turning the ship around and setting course to Vartax, but once the work was turned over, the production of another prison ship, with new volunteers, would've been made just for you."
"Don't you think I could've easily escaped, with me being awake?" she asks coyly. "After all, you busted yourself out of Vartax."
"Cronk and Zephyr busted me out," I correct her, jabbing a finger against the table. "Without them, three months would've turned into thirty years."
Vendra leans up with a scowl. "You keep mentioning them like they're gonna somehow pop up out of nowhere."
She has the nerve to sound annoyed by that! I feel a boiling heat in my gut, and I clench and unclench my fist that longs for the wrench I wasn't allowed to bring in. I'm done trying to analyze Vendra. I thought her past would help me see what she'd become in hopes of reevaluating, but she doesn't seem to show any remorse at all. Whoever Clank saw in the Netherverse is not the Vendra in front of me.
"Why did you and Neftin kill my friends?" I ask upfront.
"I like to steal, Ratchet. And destroying is just the principle of the thing. And I'm not sorry, simply because you were better off without them. They were expendable," she answers bluntly. "Seriously, Ratchet. I was practically doing you a favor."
Expendable. The word rings in my large ears and makes them twitch. That means useless. Made to be thrown away. Scrap. My gut tightens, and my head begins to shake on its own.
"You...You..."
"There's your answer Neftin kept babbling I should give. So are we finished here?"
I don't move, a seething glare on my face and a growl tickling the back of my throat.
"Let me ask you, Ratchet. Did you really think turning ourselves in would be the last step? Or are you that oblivious that criminals get their voices heard, too?"
"What are you saying, Vendra?" Venom passes and deepens my voice.
"Just like what happened six months ago, Nef's and my actions are going to court. This time it's in the hand of Polaris's capital, with a new set of rules. You're gonna see quite a turn-around there. Like the fact that your dear friends are not murder victims, but scrap. Or the fact that some charges should be lessened because we saved this naive city from a Nether invasion. What say you to that?"
"How dare you...?"
That phrase was etched in the back of my mind, but someone beat me to it. I turn my head to the door sliding closed behind-
"Tal...?" I freeze in my seat.
"You killed my friends and show not an ounce of remorse...You really are a cold, empty shell."
Talwyn steps from the shadows in quick strides. The light makes the whites of her angry eyes and teeth flash. She stands by the side of the table between where Vendra and I sit, glaring down at the fearless Nether.
"I'll ask you this time." Talwyn bends her body to level her face with Vendra's. "Why did you kill Cronk and Zephyr?"
Vendra turns to Talwyn in kind, smirking. "Hmm, a good question. Will you break if I tell you?"
"Talwyn...I-I've got this," I mediate. "Just go back in the other room-"
Suddenly, it feels like someone is dragging my chair back against the wall behind me. I slam back, stunned, and I look up to a blanket of pink in front of me. I'm boxed in with no room for my body to stand from my seat. Behind the field, I see Vendra's head drop to the tabletop, a hand rubbing her temple. There was the arrogance, right before I spoke. Despite my theory, I know somehow, Vendra's powers are returning.
I'm back on the Nebulox, speechless and trapped, as something bad happens.
Someone else is coming in now, not as frantically as I thought they would. The shortest one here.
"Clank!" I shout for him.
My best friend runs to me, ignored by Talwyn and Vendra. I really don't know what's going on, and I hope just a little "Clank logic" can help. He stops just outside the forcefield, a questioning look of whether or not it's ideal to touch.
"Are you alright, Ratchet?" he mutters, as if I'm behind bars.
"I'm fine." I grin a little at the worrywart. "Just stunned. What's wrong with Tal?"
"When she heard Vendra say they were expendable, Talwyn snapped..." Clank explains, glancing back towards them. "I was a bit worried that could happen."
"I want to hear you say that again," seethes Talwyn. She's trembling with balled fists at her sides.
Vendra still looks like she's getting herself together, looking disoriented, and swats her hand randomly. Since Talwyn's face was in the way of Vendra's imaginary target, she's struck.
Talwyn's cry is more of a growl as she stumbles to her right, and when she straightens herself, she's heated. Her face grows red, and she shoves Vendra out of her chair. "Don't touch me!" she screeches.
Vendra falls like a broken doll, unresistant to gravity. For a moment, she appears unconscious, but, after a heavy silence, a sigh billows from the floor like an ancient steam engine, as dense as fog. She slowly wobbles to her feet with the support of the side wall. Other than her strange set of mind, she appears unharmed.
It's creeping me out.
"Expendable, huh?" Talwyn muses, her hands flat on the table. "What about all your Thugs we brought here? What about all organics, huh?!"
Vendra stands, silent, her eyes closed.
"How could you even say that? Just because they're someone you can play with, you feel like just killing whoever you want?!" Talwyn waits a moment for a reply, pressing her body forward in anger. "Answer me, Vendra! You killed my friends, my family! They took care of me when I was young, especially when my father disappeared!"
It's weird, but at Vendra's silence, I can hear something, an almost grating sound. When I listen closer - it doesn't seem like Clank can hear it - I hear words in an unfamiliar language. I'm sure of that.
How the hell am I hearing Mr. Eye?
I don't know what to make of it, don't know if I should provide some kind of warning.
Talwyn repeats Vendra's name in a warning tone, and in a snap, Vendra approaches Talwyn, cutting off her next word as she coils her hands around Talwyn's neck.
It's an alarming, yet almost awkward view, since Talwyn is a few inches taller than Vendra and myself. The Nether girl stands on her toes and lightly totters in a lazy semicircle holding my friend's breath. This is the complete opposite of Talwyn's pretension of choking to death in deep space. This is exactly why I didn't laugh. I'd jinxed it in my mind. The most alarming sight I see is the illusion of long, sharp, purple fingers largely gripping her neck instead of Vendra's pale, bruised hands. Talwyn's seem to slip through the illusion in attempt to wrench the ones she can see and feel.
Am I the only one seeing this?
When her attempts aren't enough, Talwyn fumbles with her belt, reaches for a certain holder, takes out a Constructo Pistol, and fires it into Vendra's chest.
It happened so fast that my mouth stayed open, soundless.
Vendra's forcefield drops, and so does Vendra and Talwyn's gun. I run up to see Vendra's blood, a shiny red-purple ooze, streaming from her mouth and spreading in her jumpsuit; her gasping, convulsing form (I almost wait for the building to lift from the ground); Clank, who's silent with a face I know wouldn't judge Talwyn nor Vendra; turn to Talwyn, whose hands are over her mouth, eyes huge and color drained from her face, her knees knocking until she crumbles next to her gun, her eyes never leaving her target. Talwyn never misses. Her face tells me otherwise.
"H-H-How DARE YOU?! " Vendra's scream falls from her mouth like her tongue is hanging out. She clutches her chest with bloody hands and leers at Talwyn like she broke her heart. Her probably shot heart.
Guards come in and I'm unsure if they're aiming at Talwyn or Vendra or both. The sounds registering for a few moments are safetys pulled back, and Vendra choking on her own blood.
"We have a policy against violators who use a gun. Most common punishment is a bullet in 'em themselves," says the novice guard who'd stopped me earlier this afternoon. He unabashedly aims his gun at Talwyn.
"You are not." I block her from his gun, disappointed that all the guards appear to be allowing this, or worse, considering it themselves. "Over my dead body you are not." What kind of penitentiary is this?
"He doesn't remember that rule was abolished over ten years ago," says the guard beside him, pushing the novice back. "But we do have to keep both these ladies."
I glance back at Talwyn, trying to look as reassuring as possible, but I'm too shaken.
Various murmurs fill the room as I'm moved aside as one guard takes Talwyn by a wrist, and two more haul Vendra like there's an invisible stretcher beneath her:
"Get her in the infirmary, but dress it quietly..."
"Don't you think she'll scream?"
"You really should've put that gun away..."
"Where's she gonna be?"
"Say she wanted to wait overnight to speak with the other twin, and changes her mind in the morning."
"Most importantly, keep this from the chief."
Clank and I are left behind a closed door, two awkward chairs, a circle of blood, and Talwyn's gun.
How I'm gonna say good night to today...I have no clue.
8/24 edited for clarity
7/20 A/N
WHOO LAWD! I finally finished this thing! Took me forfreakingever. New ideas and suggestions sprouted a change in this chapter entirely, and I amazed myself with the turnout.
I know it was a long read, but thanks for the patience. This might be the only chapter I publish in a while, so embrace it! I'm starting college again in August. Chapter 3 is predicted to be shorter, not nearly as long as this.
Thank you EVERYONE who reviewed or even hit my story. The continued support for my second only multichap delights me. I enjoy reading your reviews.
*The idea that Neftin got his body from an accidental experimentation Vendra deployed is NOT mine; it's a head-canon that belongs to gameloverx with permission. Check out her related fic, "Cybernetic" in-progress/more to come! She deserves it!
I update the status on the incoming chapters on my profile, so use that to determine updates! :)