Date Point: 15y6m3w AV
Trans-Canada Highway, Indian Head, Saskatchewan, Canada, Earth
Julian Etscitty
If there was one thing that had got Julian through everything since Kirk had rescued him, it was knowing that some things in life would never change. Julian would always love hard work, and it didn’t matter if that work was chopping logs and clearing deadwood in his forest back home, slabbing all day long with Adam, or struggling to keep up with him on one of his sadistic weighted vest runs down to the coast and back.
Allison would never give up her guns or her tools, Xiù would always be a little pink-lace girly no matter how tough she really was. Neither of them would ever stop being Julian’s badass spacebabes, and he’d never stop being the rock they could build their lives on.
Vemik, of course, would always be Julian’s frenetic supergenius cavemonkey best friend. All of that was a good thing! They were things that would never, ever change, things he knew he could depend on no matter what.
Possibly the only thing more reliable in Julian’s universe was Yan’s single-minded determination to crawl into bed with every female creature he met anywhere, at any time, for any reason. Julian didn’t know anyone else so relentlessly flirtatious, nor so completely unashamed. Not the Lads, apparently not Adam in his heyday as the human “Stud-Prime,” not even Daar. Yan was ridiculous, and Julian could only shake his head, sigh to himself, and watch the game unfold.
The big gorilla was busy chatting up the charging station attendant while he shamelessly stood tall and proud in as striking a pose as he could manage. He wasn’t being the least bit subtle about his intent, but the amazing thing was that it seemed to be working. Julian couldn’t wrap his head around how a fella like Yan could be both so blatant and so smooth, but it wasn’t like Julian had personally ever had that kind of approach to dating anyway. He just sorta…fell into things. It had worked out pretty well for him, so…
Of course, it probably worked in Yan’s favor that the skinny, freckled young lady behind the counter was completely beside herself over just who had walked into her workplace. Julian had let her have her selfie opportunity: it was only polite.
“Is nice place!” Yan enthused about the forests. “Big trees, air taste good! You live here long?”
“I was born here!”
“Good! You travel, visit other towns and tribes? I think you like to ‘explore,’ yes? Is that the word?”
The whole time Yan was chatting her up, he was not-so-subtly flexing for her, too. She seemed too star-struck to notice but that didn’t discourage him at all. God, he was such a ridiculous flirt.
Vemik, of course, couldn’t possibly care less about that sort of thing. He had his Singer back home, and on Earth he had snacks. He was after all in the throes of late-puberty-shading-to-adulthood, which meant no food within his sight was safe from his attention. He’d spent an inordinate time investigating the hypercharger and its cords, decided he wasn’t sky-smart enough to get it, then determined that the most important thing in his life at that moment was obtaining all the jerky.
He wasn’t wrong, really…
The slush machine was giving him trouble, too. He couldn’t stop turning to stare at it. Still not wrong.
For his part, Julian was enjoying a complimentary coffee and thumbing through a hunting and fishing magazine while trying not to draw any extra attention to himself. Fuelling up a car had changed some over the years: despite the massive advances in battery and charging technology, topping up a vehicle to full charge could take as much as a half-hour because of the sheer volume of charge that had to move. Nobody wanted to push megawatt currents into a civilian vehicle… or let Average Joe Motorist handle a megawatt power cable, for that matter.
Anyone could say what they wanted, but good ‘ol gasoline was a heck of a lot more convenient in some ways. It was kinda sad, really. Julian had never owned a real gas-powered car—or any kind, for that matter—and nobody wanted to deal with inflammable liquid pollutants anymore unless they had to. It didn’t matter that they’d solved the greenhouse gas problem by growing gas with algae, electric was in too many ways just better.
Too quiet, though. And charging was always going to suck.
So this stop-off in rural Saskatchewan about halfway between Winnipeg and Calgary, which still had a working diesel pump and so technically still qualified as a gas station, had received an overhaul. To judge from the pictures on the walls it had once been just a compact, almost windowless brick hut on a flat lot, opposite a restaurant (permanently closed) and a grain elevator. Both of which were still present, but the gas station had been expanded with a spacious lounge and a convenience store with a plate glass front.
The couch was so excessively soft that five seconds sitting in it led to back pain, but the coffee was good (and complimentary!) and the radio was tuned to CBC.
“…criticized for their links with the APA. Although the protest outside Ambassador Knight’s family home in Shropshire, England, was mostly peaceful, three individuals were arrested after…”
Rather than sit, Julian stood next to the torture-couch while keeping an eye on Vemik; junk food prevention was a full time job with the irrepressible Sky-Thinker. “Hey!” Julian raised his voice when his curious cavemonkey drifted near the candy isle. “No sugar, it makes you hyper!”
“Is this why no Slush-shee?” Vemik asked. Ever since he’d first seen one he’d been fascinated, and Julian’s warnings about the slushie’s evil powers had done nothing to dissuade him.
Julian sighed. Sometimes, the only way the young’n would learn was by doing.
“…Y’know what? Fine. You can have a slushie.”
Vemik issued a delighted hoot and was at the machine in a flash trying to decide which color sparked his interest more.
Julian grinned to himself and returned to his magazine.
Not even paper and print media had come into the extraterrestrial contact age untouched. “Smart” printed nanoscreens—effectively the same technology behind e-tattoos—allowed for all kinds of crazy details nowadays, like animated ads, interactive articles and video clips in news items. Though he was trying to read an article on fly-fishing in Africa, Julian couldn’t help but be distracted by the lavish full-page animated Black Ogre Munitions advert showcasing their new range of gauss shotguns. He didn’t see why anybody would want one, but apparently they sold.
He’d shown a different example to Vemik at their last stop, and been met with bemusement. The Ten’Gewek understood pictures just fine. High-definition pictures were just a refinement of pictures, no problem. Watching the girl in a perfume advert flick her hair and shoot the reader a sassy look was sky-magic territory.
…Still not wrong.
Yan, meanwhile, had progressed to Level Two of his typical chat-up routine, and was now showing off for the attendant a little. Nothing too flashy just yet, but she’d finally noticed his crude meathead attempts to impress, and stared at his arms for a long, telling moment…then noticed his tail, which often moved like it had a mind of its own.
“Ooh!” She pointed at it excitedly with an almost Vemik-like curiosity. “Is it prehensile?”
“Pre- hens- isle.” Yan looked to Julian and grunted for attention.
[“That means you can use it like you use your hands and feet.”] Julian added with a grin, [“And stop hitting on everyone you meet, you huge oaf! It’s not like you’ll get any time with her anyway.”]
[“Not with weak thoughts like that!”] Yan retorted jovially, and turned back to the attendant. “Yes! See?”
The big fella had pretty amazing control of that tail of his and could use it to pick up surprisingly tiny things if he wanted to. Like, in this case, a pen from the nearby cash register, which he then used to scribble out a rough version of his name on a nearby newspaper.
“I write my name! Is in new letters Vemik invent!” Yan gestured to Vemik, who perked up at being mentioned.
“Wow! He must be smart!”
Vemik peeked over the mountain of jerky pouches in his arms, threw his friendliest fang-filled grin, and immediately returned his attention to gathering as many meaty snacks as he could hold.
“Yes! But, he is young, too. Sometimes, does not know what is important in life…”
Yan even waggled his heavy brow, which Ten’Gewek normally didn’t do; he was doing it just for her. Jesus, he was laying it on thick.
Her expression said it all, though. Yan was somehow making progress. Julian would never have called him handsome, not considering his total lack of a nose, his huge sharp fangs and his unquestionably alien face… but charisma, it seemed, transcended species.
Vemik, of course, either didn’t notice or didn’t care what Yan was up to: he had other things on his mind. “Yan! We should get something for Chimp!”
Not wrong again. Hoeff had put in a lot of miles as their driver and invisible security, and the best way to give thanks to the little shortstack fella seemed to be beef jerky. And dip, which…gross, but whatever. Hoeff was too scary for Julian to comment on his particular vices.
“Yes. [Vemik!”] Yan had finally noticed what the Sky-Thinker was up to. [“That is far too much! Put it back. We can buy a big bag of jerky at this ‘Superstore’ and use less ‘mon-ee’.]”
Julian resisted the urge to sigh. What Yan and Vemik ate was actually a perfectly modest diet by their cavemonkey paleo standards and considering their sizes, but in the human world that translated into a pretty ridiculous amount of expensive food. To be fair, none of the fellas on this trip were small eaters—Hoeff had always been a black hole and lately Julian often found himself out-eating Vemik—but at least he and Chimp could pad their diets with beans, rice, and veggies.
Not the cavebros, they needed a lot more fat and protein, so much so that a sedentary human who ate like that would quickly wind up about as wide as he was tall, if he didn’t die from liver failure first. Sharing a vehicle with them was inevitably an exercise in willpower to resist the call of all the tasty smoked game and Adam-approved snacks. But the two needed to eat nearly perfectly to keep up their strength since they were stuck traveling and not exercising, which meant Julian had to leave it all to them and silently suffer, even as they continually plied him with their jerky, cheese, and fresh fruit.
At least the little cave they’d made in the back of the Suburban was nice and comfy. Julian found most car seats uncomfortably small these days and the cavemonkeys had tails which didn’t work with most chairs, so instead of whining they adapted and overcame! They’d pulled out all the rear seats and filled it with blankets and pillows, jury-rigged something seatbelt-like for everyone…aside from Yan’s inescapable crush-snuggles, it wasn’t a bad way to travel!
Of course, it’d be hell back there if Vemik spilled a slushie all over it.
“C’mon bud, you gonna drink that?”
Vemik stuck his tongue in the drink first on an experimental basis, and slurped a little of it up. He smacked his lips and considered the flavor.
“So what do you think?” Julian asked him.
Vemik paused in search of words. “…Tastes blue.”
“Yup.”
“Hm.” He slurped some more down, cocked his head, slurped some more down…
…And the moment Julian had been evilly awaiting finally arrived.
“Ow. Ow!” Vemik dropped the cup on the table next to him and made a pained noise. Yan even stopped his relentless charm offensive to watch. [“Why?!”]
[“I was wondering if your people could feel that!”]
Vemik gave him a betrayed look, with his fingers splayed across his skull. [“You knew!”]
[“Yup. Brain freeze! People get it if they eat cold things too fast. Gaoians get it too.”]
[“But why?!”]
[“Still a little pissed about the mint, to be honest,”] Julian grinned.
Yan reached over and gave him a gentle thump on the back with the back of his knuckles. “Shouldn’t hold grudge like that,” he chided.
Julian chuckled to himself, content in his revenge. He’d probably pay for it later on if Vemik felt like tussling—Christ he was strong—but some things were worth a bruised rib or three.
Still. Business first.
“We’ll swing by the Superstore on our way back to the hotel,” he noted, as Vemik rubbed his scalp and shook his head. “We need to cook all our meals for the next few days before we travel. And clean up our little kitchenette at the hotel…”
“And mend bag,” Yan reminded him.
“Thanks, yeah. For now let’s just grab what you two need for the next… uh…”
He was distracted by… something. Not immediately sure what, but something was moving wrong in his peripheral vision, in a way that tickled his danger sense. Vemik and Yan noticed it too, and the poor clerk almost jumped out of her skin when the three of them sharply turned to see what had caught their attention.
Less than a heartbeat later, Julian vaulted over the couch and got out of the way just before a battered white Ford van rammed the plate window, sending broken glass everywhere. The clerk squeaked as Yan chivalrously yanked her out of harm’s way with his tail and—
The van’s side door was hauled open along its rails and men in black clothing with their faces covered scrambled out of it. One of them growled and flicked his wrist, and a long metal baton snapped to length. The other men had an assortment of bats, tyre irons and an axe.
Off-balance and retreating, Julian bought himself precious time by flinging a handy pack of instant noodles at the baton-wielder’s face. It hit, and was just enough of a distraction for Julian to close the distance, grab the idiot and—
There was a horribly familiar crunching sensation in his foot.
Fuck, not now…
Handicapped, under attack, no options but to fight hard.
Twist the idiot’s arm. Snap, scream. Baton drops to the ground. Right cross to the chin; Idiot drops hard and his skull goes crack on the edge of the counter. Lots of blood.
An enraged bellow from Yan, a war-hoot from Vemik, a shriek from the clerk and a ringing slam from the van as something violent happened. Ignore it: Axe guy taking a swing.
Broken foot. Slow, clumsy. Can’t dart back out of range, surge forward instead off the good foot, get inside Axe Guy’s reach, fist to the throat. Axe Guy drops his weapon and clutches his throat, making gurgling sounds. Two wild off-balance blows to the face. Axe guy goes down.
Look around.
Three guys left, all hesitating with wide fear in their eyes. Julian cracked his knuckles and advanced, praying they wouldn’t notice that his left foot was no good; They retreated from him. The van driver panicked and reversed outta the hole in the wall, yelling and gesturing for the others to get in—
SLAM!
Hoeff’s Suburban might have looked like any weathered old SUV, but it was reinforced, armored and upgraded to the point where he might as well have been driving a turbo-charged battering ram. An old Ford Econoline stood no chance at all: it was smashed right onto its side, the rear axle fractured, and before it had even finished sliding Hoeff was out with his pistol raised and promising immediate death to anybody who didn’t drop to the ground that instant.
Wisely, they complied.
…Check on the attackers.
Julian limped back to Axe Guy, willing his foot not to fall apart. The bastard was totally unconscious, but still breathing with blood leaking from his nose. Not a threat.
Baton Guy wasn’t moving. Shit, he wasn’t breathing; the side of his head was dented inward.
Oh.
Oh…fuck.
No time. Check on the other two. Vemik’s attackers were trapped under a growling feral beast whose hackles were up, fangs bared and bloody. Both of them had one of Vemik’s legs crushing their torsos flat, his feet squeezing tightly around their throats and his tail wrapped unbreakably around their shins; they were utterly pinned in place. The smaller idiot kept feebly pawing at Vemik in a vain attempt to escape, but he was so weak compared to Sky-Thinker that Vemik was basically ignoring him. The bigger idiot was a bit stronger and had unwisely attracted the angry cavemonkey’s attention. Vemik looked down, balled up a fist about the size of idiot’s head and held it in front of his face, gave a low, guttural snarl, tensed his bulging leg and bore down with a much harder squeeze.
There was a soft pop in idiot’s chest. He got smart and gentled right the hell up.
Vemik was a big damn fella, but luckily for his idiots he’d held most of his weight and strength off of them. He coulda squashed them like ticks if he’d really wanted to, but he was a level-headed fella and so he didn’t. Both idiots would live to fuck up another day. Instead of ripping them apart he’d jumped up, landed on them and pinned them like little children, took their bats and snapped them like twigs in his bare hands.
One of the bats was metal, too. Damn.
Yan…wasn’t nearly so merciful. When he got angry, nobody was safe. He had more or less exploded one of his attackers, who was obviously dead as hell—living people didn’t have jagged shards of broken rib and spine sticking out of their flattened torso. The white van had a deep and vaguely man-sized dent in the side, not to mention a huge red stain.
The other was going purple and mouthing unspeakable agony as Yan’s insane weight rested on one foot, which was in turned gripped around the man’s upper leg right under the hip joint and squeezing down through his mutilated muscles, all the way down to the shattered bone. The entire leg would definitely need to be amputated and his pelvis looked flattened, too. Hell, probably the only reason the idiot wasn’t bleeding out was because Yan’s grip was literally strong enough to shatter pig iron. His other foot had grabbed the idiot’s hands and…
Well, there wasn’t much left of them but meat and bone oozing out from between his toes.
Julian couldn’t find it in him to be too sympathetic: the bastard had tried to kill them after all, and with the state of modern prosthetics or the option maybe of even getting the damn things regrown… play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
The clerk was throwing up and sobbing, and had apparently picked up a cut or two from the broken glass, but she was essentially unharmed.
Were things safe? They seemed safe. Julian looked around, and satisfied himself that nothing felt dangerous. Hoeff flex-cuffed the survivors, then set about applying tourniquets to Yan’s barely-living victim. On his instructions, the clerk was dialing for the cops with shaking hands.
He had a soft, reassuring tone with her, too. And a smile. Somehow, he’d calmed her right down and set her to work. Maybe that was why he was such a scary fella.
Wait.
Julian looked back at his own handiwork.
…
Shit.
He’d just killed someone. He’d maybe…
Spurred by…something…he checked on Axe Guy. When he put a finger to the guy’s throat, he found a pulse, which made him sag with relief. He didn’t know if he could have handled killing two men. He’d never killed anyone before.
…Wait, no. He had. There’d been that fight in Izbrk, with the Chehnash mercenaries. They’d been people too. But…
But he’d never killed another human before.
He didn’t know why that felt so different but it did and now all he wanted to do was sit down, stare at the corpse he’d made, and just…and just…
Deflate.
“…Shit.”