Reality Check

Okay, just a little something I threw together as a writing exercise: a story using cliches; can it be done and still make sense? You decide.

* * *

“Gird your loins, babe, it’s déjà vu all over again.” Michael murmured to his buxom girlfriend, Mary, and glanced meaningfully towards the door of the Last Chance Saloon.

Mary affected to wipe her cheek on her shoulder and quickly looked at the door. There stood Brad, tall, broad and strong, eyes searching the subdued lighting in the pub.

“The bad penny always turns up.” She muttered, and then groaned as Brad spotted them. “Cat’s out of the bag, now.” She leaned into him. “Ah well, into every life a little rain must fall.”

Brad sauntered over and leaned on the wooden bar. “Milk of Human Kindness, please.” He asked the barkeep who nodded and began mixing the cocktail.

“So, small world. I guess the writing is on the wall.” Brad said, leaning sideways to address the couple.

“Draw your own conclusions, Brad.” Mary said with a toss of her blonde hair.

Brad shook his head. “It will all end in tears, you mark my words.”

The bartender placed Brad’s drink in front of him. He nodded to the man and picked it up, sipped the pale grey drink.

“Tears of joy, Brad. You’re just filled with sour grapes.” Mary sneered and lifted her own drink to her lips.

Brad laughed. “Oh, Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Call a spade a spade, I’m not here to put a spanner in the works, so keep your shirt on.”

“Oh? You’re the one dressed to kill. That outfit must have cost an arm and a leg.” She knew silk when she saw it and the midnight blue brought out Brad’s eyes beautifully. His jeans slicked across the muscles of his thighs, outlined everything.

Brad lifted a shoulder. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it and mutton dressed as lamb doesn’t appeal to me anymore.”

“Hey! Cheap shot!” Michael leaned forward. “You’re used goods, too, you know.”

Mary stared at both of them, insult burning her face.

“I’m not the snake in the grass. I’m more sinned against than sinning!” Brad leaned back with mock offence.

“So, the worm turns.” Mary said. “Now we see your true colours, and they’re not pretty.”

“I’m also not the dog in the manger.” Brad glared at her and Mary flushed. “At least I have the courage of my convictions. I haven’t been sneaking around.”

Mary refused to answer and Michael turned away, uncomfortable.

“Ah,” Brad murmured and lifted his finger for another drink. “Someone’s got cold feet. Someone’s digging their own grave.” He smirked.

“Falling on deaf ears, Brad. We’re peas in a pod now.” Michael said. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“And so I’m left holding the baby.” Brad murmured and stared into his drink as if it had all the answers. “Left in the lurch. Washed up and strung out. Well, live and learn.”

“Brad.” Mary said and placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t toss the baby out with the bathwater. You’re one in a million. Cut your losses and move on. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Once more into the breach, eh?”

“Get back on the horse.” She punched him lightly on his arm. “Go out there and win one for the Gipper.”

“Lightning never strikes twice, you know.” Brad said forlornly.

“Look on the bright side: nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“I suppose a man’s got to do, what a man’s got to do. With maybe a little help from my friends?” Brad’s face brightened.

“All in a days work, for you.” Mary said with a smile. “You can take that to the bank.”

Brad gulped down his drink and then smiled at the couple. “I’ve got to go and see a man about a dog.” He said and slid off the stool. “Hold the fort.”

Michael and Mary watched him go.

“Well, knock me down with a feather,” Michael murmured, “you can teach an old dog new tricks. He took that better than expected.”

“Not to put to fine a point on it, he’s a brick short of a full load. Full of piss and vinegar, he’s just not showing it.” Mary replied. “Me thinks he doth protest too much.”

“It’s a done deal, Mary. We gave him a double whammy. It’s a final parting of the ways.”

Mary eyed him, doubt in her eyes. “I think he’s wolf in sheep’s clothing; that’s all. He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. Money can’t buy you happiness and Brad thinks money talks.”

“Look, I don’t believe he wants to rain on our parade, Mary. We’ve given him a raw deal. I’ll go and make him an offer he can’t refuse; he’ll be putty in my hands.”

Mary acquiesced. “All right. Read him the riot act.”

Michael slid off his stool.

“And Michael,” Mary called, “Don’t mince words!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him the message, loud and clear. The long and the short of it.” Michael grinned at her.

“It’s a recipe for disaster.” Mary muttered after she watched him push open the door marked ‘Gents’. “And he’d better draw the line.” She glanced up at the bar tender. “Another Sour Grape, please.”

She sipped the tangy green drink through a straw and waited for the men to return. “I’m at the end of my tether. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with those two. Michael’s a man for all seasons and Brad is a flash in the pan.”

“It’s not over until the fat lady sings.” The bartender replied with a smile and she laughed.

“Yeah, all’s fair in love and war. Brad’s been living high on the hog for too long, he just can’t see the forest for the trees.” Mary stirred her drink with the pink umbrella. “Good men are far and few between, but with Michael, I’ve found Nirvana.”

“Uh, oh. You spoke too soon.” The bartender said and leaned towards Mary. “A word to the wise: next time don’t send the fox to guard the hen house.” The bartender patted Mary’s hand. “It’s a brave new world and it looks like Brad’s taken the Mick.”

Mary felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around. Brad and Michael were easing towards the front door, holding hands. “Oh, my God! Those chinless wonders! I knew I should have let sleeping dogs lie and now the tables have turned!” She pressed her hands to her face. “The last nail in the coffin. A rod for my own back.”

“Here, wet your whistle and take it like a man; you’re whiter than white.” The bartender said and made her a new drink. “The winds of change blow and with your track record,” he smiled when she lowered her hands, “as surely as night follows day, you’ll soon be in the pink. Gentlemen, after all, prefer blondes.”

Mary gave him a watery smile. “I feel like I’ve been put through the mangle.” She sighed, glanced at the door again. “The one that got away.” She sipped her drink. “Is this a Blaze of Glory?”

He shook his head. “Nah, but you’ll like it. It’s called a Reality Check.”

Copyright © Jaye Patrick 2007

Khanate Justice

“Rath Khan, report to the flight deck; Rath Khan, report to the flight deck.”

The voices in my head receded to quiet whispers, overwhelmed by Commander Grey’s strident demand.

My eyelids lifted slowly. The stark, utilitarian cabin reminded me of my mission, but it was hard, so hard, to resist falling back into the comforting mental embrace of my brethren. I wasn’t ready to let them go and yet, we knew… we… feared what was to come. Most of my brethren were in a similar situation. Unless the Styrix changed their attitude, it fell to me to intervene.

I rose from my cross-legged position in one smooth movement and went to broad bed, dressed carefully in the blood red uniform of the Interpreters Corp I’d laid out earlier.

A number of species, resentful of advanced technology or cultural differences or for whatever reason, warred against Humanity and her allies. The Khanate stepped in to act as neutral interpreters.

Before InterCorp, surrendering ships or ships with peace emissaries aboard died in confrontations because human crews didn’t understand the enemy’s language. Aggressive speech patterns, assumed a precursor to an assault, and not a demand for a ceasefire, routinely resulted in the unfortunate ship’s destruction.

The Khanate prefer peace in the galaxy over the raucous violence of ‘territory grabs’ or the ‘offensive, provocative language’, that often leads to war. Younger species, however, are ill-equipped to negotiate when discovering new things, less so when they covet such wonders in disputed areas.

Few wished to provoke the Khanate, because of the long held rumour we could destroy the fleets with a few ships of our own. Not willing to enter this war as an aggressor or defender, we sent negotiators and translators. We have, after all, been around millennia of millennia and these new races argue like ill-bred children. To teach these creatures proper behaviour, we intervened - as adults do.

Today, the Humans meet with the Styrix, a tall and bulky, furry, three-legged, three-armed species known to us for their treachery. It is the Styrix who are the aggressors in this war and the Khanate have warned them often to modify their culture or risk punitive measures.

I tugged on receptor gloves over my four hands. I could translate without them, but these gave me an added benefit of understanding Styrix thought processes behind the words. I did not need to touch another being with them; they functioned by touching each other, pressed together at the palms. Humans thought we prayed, though the concept was foreign to me.

Dressed, I tucked my second set of arms inside my tunic. It gave the humans comfort, though why they still expressed squeamishness over multi-limbed species after centuries of space travel, only their primitive brains could explain. A visceral fear, I think, of strangeness. Humans were a puzzle with, what appeared to me, missing pieces. They were of different colours, shapes and sizes; sometimes they had fur on their scalps, sometimes not. Their visual apparatus were also different colours, though paired. Binocular vision, like us, and bipedal.

I wondered, secretly, how they could function with only two upper appendages, but it would be impolite to ask about such a disability.

Commander Grey had pale hair and eyes, stood tall for his species and greeted me with a nod when I reached the flight deck.

His eyes shifted to my hidden appendages. I gave him a brief smile, careful not to show pointed teeth. Humans did not like beings with sharp teeth.

“Ma’am.” He held out his arm so I could precede him into the shuttle.

Humans, compared to the Khanate, are short on stature and my knees came up to my chest as I sat in one of the shuttle’s seats, tugged the restraint around my body.

Grey smiled apologetically at my discomfort, as he sat facing me, but I had put up with less comfort and this was a minor thing.

“The Draconis ship, A’cherus, awaits us, ma’am. The Styrix have already boarded.”

I inclined my head. His impatience was obvious, but humans and the Styrix needed to learn that not everything revolved around the speed of duty. Performance mattered. Results mattered. This peace accord would take time, unless one side made a false move. Then it would be finished with a haste that would startle even Commander Grey.

“I hope the Draconians have activated their anti-tampering shields.” I remarked.

Grey stared at me. Doesn’t this silly bint understand that the faster we deal with the bastards the faster we can get out of here? He thought and I gave him a tight smile as images of the Solaran Ship Saratoga appeared in his mind, and fired on the Styrix vessel, destroying it.

“You do not have much hope in a peace settlement?” I asked and he flushed, turned to stare out the porthole.

“I doubt the Styrix are interested, ma’am, all they see is more territory and an opportunity to acquire more ships.”

“Then we shall have to convince them that to do so is unwise.”

I met his sharp glance with one of calm.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said and he sat back.

The trip to the A’cherus was short and I disembarked into a cavernous, dimly lit boat bay. The Draconian ambassador and the A’cherus’ captain waited at the bottom of the ramp.

“Madam Interpreter.” Captain Bane bowed to me. Draconians were small – barely half my near three metre height - but tough with green scales covering his body. His two black eyes blinked at me with an expression of relief. His greeting felt genuine and he firmly believed I could do something about the Styrix. Ambassador Kuros held the same belief.

“If you would accompany us?” Captain Bane smiled, displaying his impressive, double row of teeth. I grinned back at him, showed him mine.

In the conference room, three large Styrix warriors held six Draconian officers hostage against the bulkhead, multi-bladed knives at their throats.

A fourth Styrix sat on a modified chair glaring at the Draconians. “You offer insult; we will take retribution.” He snarled.

“Rust’ok, this is not the way to a peaceful solution.” Captain Bane barked. “Release my people.”

I noticed he left off any courtesy as I translated his words.

“I could claim this ship as my own. You are weaklings against the might of the Styrix.” Rust’ok sneered.

Bane stepped aside, revealing… me and the Ambassador sat up.

“Khan.” He said and his dark brown face eased to pale amber.

He’d known a member of the Khanate was coming, but from his thoughts, he hadn’t actually believed it. He’d thought it a scare tactic and now, he rearranged his thinking.

“Ambassador Rust’ok.” I bowed my head a little and removed my second arms from their bindings. “It would be more polite not to intimidate our hosts.”

Rust’ok jerked his head and his warriors eased back. They formed up behind their ambassador and the Draconians scurried to the other end of the table, behind their Captain.

“We shall get started.” I said and took a seat at the middle of the table, held my hands together.

“You have no business here, Khan.” Rust’ok glared at me. “This is between Humans and Styrix.”

The images in his head were of anger and his desire to see me tortured; his revelling in such an act. I saw that the pain of others was a joy to him. I said nothing and turned to Ambassador Kuros. “If you would please begin.”

What started out badly, descended into worse with demands and counter-demands, claims and counter-claims, accusation and counter-accusation. Each side clearly had images to back up their speeches, but it was the Styrix whose actions were the worst since they started the war. I saw clearly that Rust’ok had no defence, no matter what he said. In his mind, his species claimed more and more planets for the simple pleasure of oppressing the population into servitude for the might of the Styrixian war machine. If left unchecked…

When the yelling started, I had enough. When the Styrixian warriors drew their blades again, I was done being the interpreter and rose from my seat.

“Sheathe your weapons, warriors.” I demanded and held out my two lower hands.

The warriors growled and looked to their ambassador who grinned at me, as if there was nothing I could do.

“Ambassador Rust’ok, order your men to sheathe their weapons.” I said again.

“These talks are useless and the Khanate knows it. They, and by extension you, will not proactively enter into this war. You never fight. You are about talking, not action.” He rose from his own seat. “I have decided that this ship will make a nice addition to the fleet. My own ships surround this vessel as we speak.”

His hand fisted. “We will crush the Humans and any who stand in our way, including the pathetic Khanate.”

I gave him a sharp-toothed smile. “The Styrixian habit of treachery continues, I see.”

Rust’ok laughed and nodded. “Did you expect anything else?”

I drew in a breath, eased it out.

“Ambassador Rust’ok, you and your people are at a crossroad. The Styrix can continue its aggressive ways and accept the punishment involved. The Styrix can initiate peace negotiations for the current situation. The Styrix can accept they are wrong and move out of the captured territories to pre-war standings.” I paused, for effect, yes, but also because no member of the Khanate had offered what I was about to in a thousand years. The weight of that responsibility lay heavy on my shoulders. “Or the Styrix can be interdicted.” I said and Rust’ok and his warriors laughed again.

“We will only lay down our arms when all planets and peoples are ours in all the known galaxies. Surely you know this.” His smug confidence nibbled at my patience.

Rust’ok confirmed the conclusions of my mental discussion with other members of the Khanate, and it saddened me. I would do my duty, but not without regret.

“Yes, Rust’ok, I do. I trust in Styrixian deception as I trust in the Alliance’s integrity and honour. The question, however, is whether you trust me to do what I will do in light of this.”

The glee in the Ambassador’s eyes dimmed as he thought about what I, personally, could do to him. His answer wasn’t flattering.

“You cannot threaten me, little Khan, you are mine to do with what I will. Long have the Khanate sat by and watched the slaughter and slavery of billions. You are weak, as are all the older races. The Styrix are confident that you will, yet again, do nothing for fear of us. We are in the ascendancy. We will rule all. None have stood against us and none will.”

“Then you are much too secure in your own culture, Rust’ok, in your arrogance that the Khanate can do nothing, in your faith in the dominance of Styrixian aggression. That ends here, and now.” I pressed the palms of my upper hands together, then the lower ones and began to hum. A low vibration settled in my chest and built as I closed my eyes to concentrate. The fizz of power through my blood sought to distract me and I focused on the Khanate desires.

“What are you doing?” Rust’ok asked, as if he could feel the vibrations. He probably could. The humans behind me shifted uneasily.

The humming increased and I pushed the sound into my arms, down to my hands and pushed it out towards the warriors; snapped my eyes open as the blades shattered.

Each warrior snarled at me and tried to approach, but I held them still by force of mind alone. The bass of the vibrations reflected in the deepness of my voice and I said the Khanate words not spoken in generations.

“Let all who hear this know that the Styrix are sanctioned for unrepentant aggression against minor beings. Let all who hear this know that the Styrix are banished to their world for crimes against the galaxy and for as long it pleases the Khanate.” I said and cut off the humming. The subsonic words, boosted by a Khanate mind, flashed to all the Khanate minds awaiting them.

Rust’ok stared at me. “What did you do, little Khan?”

“You are done, Rust’ok. You have forced the Khanate to act.” I lowered my hands, kept them joined as his mind filled with confusion.

“Khanate ships are moving in on your positions, Styrix. We will capture any Styrixian vessel. Captured ships will then be returned to Styrixian space, their crews offloaded and the ships destroyed. All space faring vessels are sanctioned, Rust’ok; you are now a pre-space faring race.” I gave him a smile as his jaw chewed on the information and softened my voice. “The Khanate will watch over your people.”

“You have done nothing but speak jibberish!” He roared and I lifted a hand, held him in place.

“Contact your ship, Ambassador. You will find your engines off-line, your weapons inactive, your shields down, but your people safe.”

I waited while he did as I asked, his expression becoming more infuriated.

“We will find a way to destroy you.” He growled. “All of you!” He slashed a hand down as if in final judgement.

“We warned you of the consequences, Styrixian, and you chose to ignore them. This ends the war. Go now, back to your ship.” I set the command into his mind and he nodded, albeit unwillingly. He could not resist the mind of Khan, no species could. That power made us aware of our responsibilities to the universe and to its balance.

We could rule the galaxy; instead, we chose to watch, to teach, and to intervene when necessary.

The Styrixians marched out of the room, headed to their own shuttle under my imperative.

“Madam Khan.” Ambassador Kuros touched a sleeve. “What just happened?”

I felt a surge of embarrassment. I had not interpreted a single word after standing. The humans had no idea of the consequences.

“I apologise, Ambassador, Captain.” I gave them both a deep bow. “Your war is over, you can go home.”

Silence greeted my words and I stood straight, tucked my lower arms into my tunic.

Again, confusion reigned in their minds.

“As instructed by the Khanate,” I explained, “I gave the Styrixians an ultimatum of peace or sanction. They did not choose peace.”

“What does that mean?” Captain Bane asked.

“They are now a planet-bound species. Until they learn the error of their ways, they will remain confined to their own system.”

Bane whistled in surprise. “But the Khanate doesn’t…” He cut himself off, embarrassed by his gaffe.

“The Khanate does, Captain, but only when a limit has been reached.”

Kuros narrowed his eyes. “You knew what would happen before you arrived aboard the A’cherus.” He accused and I smiled.

“Species are predictable in their attitudes, Ambassador. We gave the Styrixians opportunities to change their ways; they did not. We then studied their culture all the way back to the beginnings of their civilisations. Once we understood their development, we knew they would never accept peace unless forced upon them by someone stronger than they.”

I tilted my head and looked at the Human, then Draconian. “I trust I have made the Khanate position absolutely clear?”

Copyright © Jaye Patrick 2007