“What did he mean by evaluations?” I asked Gem. Our boots clicked against the stone floor as we followed Gem out of the Council chamber. The rough walls caught the light from the ceiling, giving the corridor a strangely dim look, despite the copious amounts of light tubes overhead.
“You will be given mental, physical, and combat evaluations,” said Gem. “You will be sorted based on the results and assigned to a unit.” He sounded like he had given this speech before, his voice faintly monotone and dull. We continued in silence for a few more feet. I started to inquire as to the exact nature of these evaluations but Clint spoke first.
“Why did you join the Rebellion?” asked Clint. I had been wondering the same, but I had planned to wait for a more appropriate time. Gem turned down a twisting hallway, deeper into the mountain. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts before answering.
“After you killed the Loardphuzi, I took it back to my tribe and they declared me Chief of the Hunt. It was a great honor and my family was very proud of me. At first, I was happy. I had everything I had ever wanted and life was good. But it was based on a lie. That lie gnawed at me, chewing up my insides until I could stand it no longer.
“I confessed what I had done to my wife. I had hoped that she would understand, that she would help me. She did not. She grew angry and said that she did not wish to remain married to a liar who cheated his way to the top. I was upset, but I understood how she felt. It was the same way that I felt. She left me and took our children with her.”
The walls grew gradually smoother the further we went. As Gem was telling his story, I watched a number of twisting hallways branch off this one and wind deeper into the mountain, an intricate maze of stone tunnels and strange markings. If you didn’t know your way around, you could easily get lost, which I suppose was the point. I would have to learn the meanings of the strange markings at the intersections or rely on someone who did to get around. The second option did not sound that appealing. Gem continued his story.
“I did not blame her for it. I fell from grace in my tribe and I was exiled for my shame. I went willingly. I could not bear to see the looks of disappointment and shame in my children’s eyes. I got on the first ship off Byrea, looking for a new start. As it turns out, the pilot was a member of the Rebellion and he told me that they were always looking for recruits. I didn’t know what else to do, so I joined up.
“Turns out I’m really good at venting my feelings by fighting. I quickly climbed through the ranks until the General put me in charge of the War Hunters.” He finished speaking, looking surprised that he shared that much with people he had only met once a long time ago. But we were the only thing from his past he had seen for a long time, I imagined, and I guess he just wanted to connect to something from happier times.
I felt bad that our arrival had led to the collapse of Gem’s life. I said so. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that we would cause such trouble.”
Gem shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault. If I had kept my damn mouth shut, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he did not. A faint wind whistled down the tunnel, bringing with it a faint smell of engine fumes. We must have been getting close to the hangar. I thought I could see a faint glimmer of natural light at the end of the tunnel before Gem took a left and we were once again under the harsh manufactured light.
Clint and I walked behind Gem, neither of us saying a word. Gem did not seem in the mood to talk after his initial anecdote. I tried not to look at him, as I would any other being I was following, because with his four eyes set in the corners of his skull, he could see everything. I tried, but it did not work. I was fascinated by the way that his eyes darted this way and that, never settling on anything in particular. The deep red color of his eyes contrasted against the green of his hardened skin, just barely reflecting the light from overhead.
Gem stopped abruptly before a door in the wall. Lifting his arm, he turned the knob and walked in. Clint and I followed him. The room was large and circular, with several doors set in the wall at regular intervals. Set in the side of the wall was a recessed area with a long desk placed across the opening. Around the perimeter of the room, where the wall was still whole, chairs of no particular style lined the wall.
Behind the desk sat a thin, pretty Ioern. She looked up as we entered. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
“New recruits here for mental evals,” Gem told her. She nodded and pressed a button on her desk. “Doctor K’ieb, when you’re ready, there are some new recruits in the waiting room.”
She gestured to the chairs behind us and we sat. Clint turned to Gem. “I didn’t know the Rebellion had psychotherapists. I wasn’t aware that beings who didn’t fight joined the Rebellion.”
“We hired them from independent systems. They may not fight, but they help those who do,” said Gem.
“Hired them?” I asked. “I thought the Rebellion was underfunded.”
Gem laughed. “That was true until about two years ago. Cerberus pays for everything now.” Seeing our confused looks, he elaborated. “Cerberus was just a minor member of the Rebellion, until he found some gold on his property. He made some very good investments and found several more veins of gold in his other properties. One thing led to another and he’s now the fourth richest being in the galaxy, even wealthier than the Swrun Emper…”
He trailed off, remembering the story Clint had told not too long ago. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, he used his wealth to purchase a great deal of supplies and resources for the Rebellion. His generosity got him a seat on the Council and us a number of badly needed equipment and personnel.”
“He sent bounty hunters after us,” I said in a flat voice.
Gem nodded. “Yes, when Skuar found out, he was livid. Cerberus was ordered to give up his vendetta against you. Seems Clint did something truly unforgivable to his honor. He was never very specific with the details…”
Gem trailed off, letting the question hang unspoken in the air. Clint obliged him. “I talked to his daughter. Apparently that’s a big no-no in his culture. She was worth it, though.” He had a half smile on his face, eyes looking off into the distance.
Gem snorted. “Well, it must not be any more. She’s one of the best ambassadors the Rebellion has got. That job is nothing but talking.” He paused. “But they did have a big falling out a year ago. That’s probably what it was about.”
A door opened in the wall and a short Remin stepped out. A small species, reaching no more than four feet in height, the Remin had large pointed ears and even larger eyes. Covered in a fine fur, their faces were one of the most likable faces in the galaxy. The Remin were also renowned for their ability to read body language and emotions. It was nearly impossible to lie to a Remin, or to trick one. In short, they made excellent interrogators or psychotherapists.
“Well,” said the Remin, his voice high and wispy, “you two look like you’ve seen a quite a bit.” His eyes took in every inch of our frames, resting on Clint’s gloved hands and my crooked right leg and on our numerous scars. He didn’t seem fazed by Clint’s size, even though he towered feet over the doctor. “Done quite a bit, too.”
He clasped his small hands together in front of himself. “Who’s going first?”
“What are you going to do?” asked Clint.
“Nothing too serious,” said Doctor K’ieb. “Just a few routine questions and tests. It’s best to make sure we’re not letting a spy or psychopath join the Rebellion. It shouldn’t take long.” He smiled a quiet, friendly smile.
“Might as well get this over with,” growled Clint. “I’ll go first.”
“Wonderful. Right this way please.” K’ieb gestured to the door he had come from. Clint walked in and he followed. The door clicked shut behind them. I turned to Gem. “So, Skuar is the military and Cerberus is the money. What are the rest on the Council?”
“The General is not the military, that’s Noromak. The Hyrth. The General is the leadership, he keeps the rest of the Council working together and focused. Krya, the Guen, is the head diplomat for the Rebellion. She keeps the relationship between the Rebellion and the independent systems on good terms and persuades them to help us. It’s a tough job.
“The Biewa, Yiad, is the Master of Secrets. A pretentious title, but he is a rather eccentric being. He’s in charge of the spies and the informant network. The Merarch, Porunishi, is the Justice, the head of the judicial section of the Rebellion.”
I was surprised at the level of organization the Rebellion had. “It’s like you’ve got your own country here. I thought it would be just a bunch of soldiers gearing up for war, but you seem to have a functioning government here.”
Gem chuckled and shook his head. “You have no idea. Sometimes it seems you can’t do anything without some politician stepping in the way. Sure, Skuar is in charge but he’s getting old and he can’t run everything by himself. But it’s still much more efficient than most governments. Here, we’re all united in one purpose against the Swrun.”
The door in the wall banged open and the doctor walked out of the room, pale and shaking. “Maregs, I won’t … won’t be, ah, seeing any … more patients today. I’m not, mhmh, feeling … well.”
He stumbled out of the room, hand on the wall for support. I stared in shock after him and Gem and I turned our heads in unison toward the door the doctor had stumbled out off. Clint walked out, a confused look on his face.
“What did you do?” I asked, my voice a little shaky. It took a lot to rattle a Remin and the doctor had looked like he had been through a mixer. Clint shrugged, an innocent look on his face and half lifting his hands.
“I have no idea. We were just talking about how I felt and he turned white and left. He’s covered in fuzz, I’m surprised he managed to get that color.”
I sighed. If Clint had scared off the psychotherapist for a war effort, that couldn’t look good for his mental health report. Gem seemed unaffected by this news and turned to Maregs at the desk.
“Are there any other doctors open for today?” he asked, his voice saying he didn’t expect there to be.
She shook her head. “Doctors Ghyrg and Juihe are out for the day. Doctor e’Lrae is swamped for the rest of the day.”
Gem sighed. “Well, I’ll guess yours will just have to wait,” he said, nodding to me. “We’ll move on to the physical eval then.”
We left the psych room and we walked down the corridor a bit. I took the time to fill Clint in on the Council positions. He seemed interested in the fact that Skuar was not the military leader and that there was basically a functioning government instead of a rabble of warriors. The next door Gem led us to was ajar and opened into a much larger room than the one we had previously been in, but had the same layout. Several of the chairs were filled with beings who looked up at us when we entered, then back to what they had been doing before.
I leaned toward Gem and asked, “This isn’t the main hospital, is it? It doesn’t seem big enough to accommodate an army.”
“No,” he replied, “this is just the base medical center. The field hospital is actually a hospital, set up in the Nunemabi system.”
That sounded familiar, but I could not place the name. Gem motioned for us to stay here and he strode over to the desk and talked to the nurse seated behind the computer. He motioned toward us and I could see her gaze look us up and down before nodding and speaking into her comm. Gem walked back to us.
“You’ll be seen as soon as possible,” he told us. “It would be best if we took a seat.”
We moved to do so, but before we had gotten to our seats, a voice came from the doorway. “Clint Stone?”
He looked up. Standing in the doorway was a Bonasi doctor, his red crest poking over the collar of his overcoat. “Yes?” said Clint.
“Come with me,” the doctor said, motioning with his hand. I grabbed Clint’s arm. “Try not to scare this one,” I said to him.
“I won’t,” said Clint. He smirked. “Well, not too badly.”
I shook my head as he followed the doctor out of the room. I sat down in my chair, the cushion forming around me. No sooner than I had gotten comfortable than a voice called my name from a doorway to the left of the one Clint had gone in.
“Tedix Jaku?” I looked up to see a short Cthyn nurse standing in the doorway. I raised my hand. “Follow me, please.”
I rose and followed him through the door into the narrow hallway behind. We walked a short distance down the hallway to a small room with a sink, a bed covered in paper, a chair, desk, a few cabinets on the wall, and some medical devices I recognized but did not know the function of. The nurse guided me over to a black pad on the floor and instructed me to stand on it. It beeped and he read some numbers off the display set in the wall and wrote them down on his clipboard that seemed to appear from thin air.
“Stand straight, please.” I obliged and straightened my back and leg as much as I could. The nurse pulled a holographic line from the wall with a wave of his hand and held it at the crown of my head. He wrote down what the wall told him again.
“If you’ll take a seat,” he gestured to the paper-sheeted bed, “the doctor will be with you in a minute.”
I stared at the white wall for a minute until the door opened and a familiar being walked in. B’honnes, the doctor who had treated Clint and I after Fusidk. Suddenly, I realized why Nunemabi had sounded familiar. It was the system where I had taken Clint to the hospital. I had taken Clint to a Rebellion hospital without even knowing. Another thing clicked into place. That must have been how Cerberus’ bounty hunters found us. Cerberus probably owned the thing and every one must have reported back to him.
B’honnes looked up from the clipboard the nurse had filled out and his face split in a wide smile.
“So you’re still alive,” he said. “How is your friend?”
“Fine,” I said. “Is everyone we ever met in the Rebellion?”
It was true. Out of the small number of beings that Clint and I had any lengthy contact with, the ones we hadn’t killed or had died soon after we met them, most had shown up in the Rebellion.
“I have no idea,” said B’honnes. He flipped through the pages on his clipboard, more sheets than the nurse had filled out. “I don’t know who you know. Regardless, you seem very interesting.”
“Interesting? What do you mean?” I asked him.
“It appears that you are much too heavy and tall for a jahen. In fact, you are six inches taller than the tallest of your species and about fifty pounds too heavy.”
“What?” I asked him. He was making no sense. “What do you mean I’m too big to be a jahen? I’ve been a jahen for my entire life. I should know what being a jahen feels like.”
He looked at me, his tentacles twisting over his chin. “You are five feet, eight inches and a hundred and sixty pounds. The tallest a jahen gets is around five feet, two inches and a hundred pounds. And the amount of muscle you possess is nothing short of incredible.”
I was flabbergasted. I was six inches taller than I should be? I had been the same height I had always been, five feet flat, tall for my species, hell, most species. But when I thought about it, a horrifying truth stared back at me. The doors had been getting lower and the floor did always seem to be getting farther away. I had been getting bigger for a while, ever since … ever since I had met Clint.
What the hell? I should have noticed that I was getting taller. When beings who should have been at my eye level were standing at my neck, I should have noticed. Thinking back, I realized that I had been looking at Clint’s chin for a while, when I should have been looking at his shoulder. What the hell was going on? Why was I growing and why didn’t I realize it?
“Wha- How? But-” I struggled to put into words what I was feeling. B’honnes shook his head.
“I have no idea what is causing it. I’m going to need to take a few samples and run a few test before I can be sure. I’m surprised I didn’t notice this earlier, when you nearly died of exhaustion, but I guess I was too busy saving your life.”
He put his clipboard down. “You’re not afraid of needles, are you?” I shook my head.
“Good. I’m going to need a blood sample and a saliva sample. Don’t worry, only the blood sample requires a needle.”
He removed a needle and syringe from the cabinet behind him. Placing them on the desk, he pulled down a cleanser pad and rubbed my arm with it. He pushed the needle in my arm with a pinching sensation and pulled back the plunger. My red blood filled the syringe and B’honnes pulled the needle out of my arm. I rubbed my arm where he had pricked me. B’honnes emptied the blood into a glass vial, setting it on the counter.
“Open wide.”
I opened my mouth and he ran a cotton swab across my tongue and placed that in a plastic vial, which he set next to the blood filled vial. He turned back to me.
“Now for the examination. You are much heavier than you should be. I wonder if that is due to the amount of muscle growth. Hold your arm out for me.”
I did and he grasped it with his hands, running his hands along my upper arm, squeezing and prodding the muscles. He worked his way down my arm, feeling the muscles on my forearm and kneading the bones in my hands.
“The amount here is just not normal,” he said, more to himself than to me. “I’ve never seen this dense a muscular structure. Well, except on Clint. And the bones are much harder than they should be. I wonder what is causing that. This is most intriguing.”
He looked up at me. “Have you been taking any growth enhancing drugs or treatments?” Before I could answer, he shook his head and muttered, “No, there would be other signs. But perhaps…”
He pulled his little light on a stick from his pocket. He held it up to my face. “Just look over my shoulder,” he said. B’honnes gazed at my eye, looking for what, I did not know.
“Hmm. No signs of burst veins or extended pupils. It looks as if the growth is natural, but that’s impossible. Must get those tests run.”
He turned off his light. “I’m afraid I can’t learn more until I get back the test results. But I can finish the normal exam and so I shall.”
He busied himself with his equipment, scanning me with a large glowing paddle, testing my reflexes and checking for abnormalities. Other than the abnormal growth, that was. I was still confounded at that. I wondered at all of the things that could have caused it and I came up empty. While he examined me, B’honnes kept up a steady stream of conversation.
“Did you and Clint ever find Shkiwahlke?” he asked.
“Yes, and Clint got his arm back.”
“That is fascinating. I really must see it. Does it work as well as the old one?
“Better,” I said. “He got a one from the Randacs and then built a new one, one he designed. It’s made of titanium-graphene.”
B’honnes paused. “That is truly wondrous. Can he make more? And how did he make the first one? It’s made of metal, you say?” He held his hand up before I could answer. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask him when I examine him. I assume he is here as well. You two don’t go anywhere without the other.”
“He’s already being examined,” I said. “Some Bonasi doctor came to get him about a minute before you saw me.”
B’honnes looked at me in horror. “There’s someone else examining him?! They don’t know anything about humans! Or what Clint can do! This could be very bad.”
Doctor Byer Hewnr stepped through the small door leading into the waiting room. He looked down at the clipboard in his hand and tried to say the name written there the best he could, hoping he did not butcher it.
“Clint Stone?”
“Yes?” The being that answered was the biggest Byer hed ever seen. Standing, he must have been over six feet tall, dwarfing Byer’s five. His crest quivered on his back. Byer had never seen a being like this one. His species was unknown to Byer and he looked very strange. But Byer wasn’t going to let that stop him from doing his job. Plus, he was a curious fellow and new things were always fun.
“Come with me.” Byer waved his arm and walked back through the door. He waited in the hallway as the being walked through. He had to hunch a tiny bit to fit. It looked like he could have made it through without ducking, but it never hurt to be careful. Byer spun on his heel and led the being into the nearest exam room.
“If you could please step on this pad here,” Byer said, pointing out the black pad in the floor. The being did so and the wall flashed with his weight. Byer looked at it, then looked harder. Two hundred and forty pounds? There was no way that was right.
“Could you step off and then back on again for me?” Byer asked the being. “It seems to have misread your weight.”
“What does it say?” asked the being.
“Two hundred and forty pounds, but I’m sure it’s a mistake.”
“No, that’s about right,” said the being. What? There was no way that was right. Two hundred and forty pounds was ridiculously heavy. The bone strength required to hold up that mass would have to be off the charts. Only species from deathworlds had that kind of …
“What type of planet are you from?” asked Byer apprehensively.
“What do you mean?”
“A … well, a deathworld. Are you from a deathworld?”
“Yes.”
This was unexpected. Byer had never seen a species from a deathworld before. This would be very exciting. That would explain the weight. Byer continued with the rest of the exam. “Stand straight.”
Byer motioned with his hand and a line emerged from the wall. Normally, Byer would have waved his hand over the being’s head, but this one was much too tall for that. The wall showed that this being’s height was six feet and three inches. Only the Irgh were taller than this being.
“Is this size normal for your species?” Byer asked.
“I’m a bit bigger than the average used to be,” said the being. Used to be? What did he mean by that?
“Used to be?”
“They’re all dead.” Oh. Wait. Last of his species, huge, named Clint Stone?
“By Herga! You’re the human!” said Byer, incredulous. He should have realized it earlier. News had spread through the Rebellion like wild fire. Clint Stone, the killer of Yut-sek, dragon slayer, the one who had taken out the entire Thief’s Guild on Beruna, the one who had saved his niece from the Flow Den on Bona Prime, he of the metal arm. And just recently he had joined the Rebellion and announced his hatred for the Swrun Empire, the ones who killed his planet.
“That’s me,” said Clint Stone, the legend. How did I end up in this situation, thought Byer. What should I do now? I don’t have the training to properly examine him. I’ll send him to B’honnes, that’s what I’ll do. Byer remembered that B’honnes had told him that he had saved Clint Stone’s life once, before he got his arm.
“Uh, I need to step out for a second,” said Byer. Clint nodded his acknowledgement and Byer slipped out the door. He leaned against the wall, gulping in huge breaths of air. He stood there for a while, until he got his breathing and racing pulse under control. He straightened and brushed his twitching crest across his neck. He started to make his way down the hall and saw B’honnes hurrying down the hall towards him, followed by a rather tall jahen. Thank Herga, he thought.
I followed B’honnes as he hurried down the hall, searching for the room with Clint in it. Ahead I saw the doctor who had taken Clint in the first place standing in the hallway with a look of great relief on his face. B’honnes walked up to him and the other doctor gripped B’honnes’ arm.
“That’s Clint Stone in there,” he said in an awed voice.
“Yes, I know,” said B’honnes, brushing the other doctor off. He opened the door and strode in, closing it behind him, leaving me and the Bonasi doctor standing in the hallway.
“That’s Clint Stone in there,” he said again, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yeah, I know. I came here with him.”
The doctor looked at me as if realizing that I was real. I noticed that he was level with my chin. Now that I was aware of my height, I noticed a lot of things that were different. The ceilings were closer than they should have been and when I walked, it took me fewer steps to walk the same distance as B’honnes, who had to take five steps to my three. It had been like that for me and Clint, but I realized that I only had to take a few more steps than Clint when he walked as well. This was going to take a bit to get used to.
“You know Clint Stone. Wait, you’re the jahen. The one who saved his life, the jahen who fights.” The jahen who fights. That was a strange title, but I suppose it was fitting. My race was notorious for running and hiding. We didn’t even have an army or a police force. We didn’t even fight amongst ourselves. It wasn’t that we dislike violence, it was that violence could led to you getting hurt. Running usually insured you wouldn’t get hurt. We jahen were a very selfish race. Not me so much, I thought with a wry smile, not since Clint.
“Yeah, I’m Tedix.” The doctor looked like he had seen a legend come to life. I have to admit, it felt good to see the awe in his face. His crest shook violently and he turned and left, muttering something about having other patients to attend to. He passed Gem, who was striding down the hallway.
“Where is Clint? The combat eval is about to start and you two need to be there.” I pointed to the door and he barged in without knocking. “Clint, let’s get going. We’ve got places to be. My apologizes, Doctor, but you’ll have to continue this some other time.”
Gem exited the room with speed, Clint following him. I followed them. Gem hurried down the corridor outside of the waiting room and cut a sharp right. He breezed past a group of beings in the hallway, who stared at Clint and I as we hurried after Gem. We reached a large door a short while later. Gem glanced at his wrist and sighed in relief.
“We made it in time. There is one thing you have to know before you go in there. The drill sergeant is a little different than most of the rebels. Clint, you’re going to need to control yourself when-”
The door swung open. “Don’t be shy, ladies, step inside. Your lesson is just about to begin,” said a harsh voice. Clint turned red and his arms tensed. In the doorway stood a Swrun.