Tales From the Terran Republic

Sheloran snuggled Dwight as they drove through the countryside of the aft end of the Bannon cylinder.

She still couldn’t believe that she was in love.

It was wonderful…

…if it was real and not just—

Hey! We agreed that this part of the brain is mine! Stay on your side!

“We agreed to no such thing,” Sheloran muttered quietly with a little smirk.

Why are you still overthinking this? You’re in love. He’s in love. Tonight, you are going to MAKE love!Why are you being such a grumpface?

“One of us has to be,” Sheloran chuckled, “One little taste, and you turn into Craxina.”

Hey, I’ve gone without a LOT longer than you have! Forgive me for enjoying myself! What’s wrong with letting ourselves be happy?

“Oh, I’m happy,” Sheloran whispered, “Happy is great. But do you know what isn’t great? Stupid. I’m not letting myself be stupid, something you don’t have a problem with.”

Plblblbbbth.

“Did you just ‘blow your gills’ at me?” Sheloran giggled.

“Did she say something funny?” Dwight asked.

“No, she was just being pooping rude,” Sheloran laughed.

:P

“And now she is using emoticons?” Sheloran blurted in surprise. “Weird me is getting weirder… but a lot easier to deal with.”

She looked up at Dwight mischievously.

“Apparently, she just needed to get laid,” she grinned, “You may have just saved the galaxy.”

“So, what is my reward for all my hard work?” Dwight laughed.

“You’ll find out tonight,” Sheloran giggled as she kissed his cheek.

***

As they drove through farms, actual farms, Sheloran crooned with delight.

It was so much like home.

“We’re here!” Dwight exclaimed happily as he turned off the narrow gravel road onto an even less paved drive.

“It’s beautif…” Sheloran started to say. “What’s… that?”

Standing in a field was a large, awkward-looking, vaguely chicken-like white bird roughly the height of a human with gigantic “drumsticks”, shaggy poofy feathers, and an overly large head on a very long and muscular (because of the head) neck. РÁ𐌽ỌBÈṦ

It turned to look at them with a vaguely confused expression, its overly long comb flopping over one of its eyes, causing Sheloran to giggle a little bit.

“That’s Martha, I think,” Dwight replied. She’s one of our birds.

“Is that where the eggs come from?”

With cosmically perfect timing, a huge egg dropped out of Martha and plopped onto the grass.

Martha didn’t give a shit. She just ambled towards Dwight’s truck curiously as they pulled to a stop.

“Yep,” Dwight smiled, “That’s where freedom eggs come from.”

“What is it?” Sheloran asked. She had seen pictures of chickens and had even eaten a few (they were yummy). That was not a chicken.

“That is a cockatrice hen,” Dwight replied smugly, “One of the best in all of Bannon.”

“A cockatrice?”

“Yep, the result of a genetic experiment back in the twenty-third… or was it the twenty-fourth century. They were an attempt to make the ‘ideal poultry’, fast-growing, high-quality meat…”

Martha plopped out another egg without looking back.

“…and first and foremost, egg production,” Dwight chuckled. “And they are all of that and more.”

He laughed.

“It’s the ‘more’ part that got the project scrapped. They were labeled as a failed effort and were to be destroyed, as was the practice where genetic projects were concerned back then. The lead researcher, Doctor Gilmar, couldn’t destroy his life’s work, so he fled to the belt with a few breeding pairs, all of the genetic material, and his notes. He was convinced he could fix the problems and then return to Earth, rich, famous, and forgiven.”

“I take it that he didn’t?” Sheloran asked as she got out to get a better look.

“Nope,” Dwight said as Sheloran reached out to pet Martha’s outstretched head, “He was killed by ’em. They found his partially eaten corpse the next day.”

Sheloran stopped reaching for Martha, causing the bird to make a crooning noise as she stretched her neck to the limit, causing her massive head to floop downward onto the fence.

Dwight laughed as he picked up Martha’s gourd head and scratched it, causing Martha to close her eyes with satisfaction.

“Oh, Martha’s not the problem,” he laughed. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, she would eat it, but there isn’t a mean bone in her body. The hens are just big feather pillows and about as smart. The thing is that to get more hens, you have to have something to fertilize the eggs. That’s the problem. See, Doctor Galmar sampled pre-existing birds, a lot of them, including domestic chickens, geese, swans, and emus, among others, including cockatoo, in order to try to increase their lifespan… See the problem?”

“Problem?”

“Well… Oh, speak of the devil…”

Bounding up from a barn was a brilliantly colored mass of feathers, talons, and hate bearing down on them.

“That’s Lucifer,” Dwight said cheerfully, “Luc-I-Fer! Hey, Boy!”

The beast continued to build momentum at a terrifying pace.

Sheloran started to back away.

“Try to remain calm,” Dwight said quietly, “If you get anxious, he gets anxious. He doesn’t handle being anxious very well. Actually, he doesn’t handle much of anything very well…”

Hissssssssssquak!

Lucifer bounded over the fence like it wasn’t there and collided with Dwight, wrapping his muscular python-like neck around Dwight’s and letting his head flop onto his chest.

“Aww, I missed you too, boy!” Dwight said affectionately. “Lucifer, this is Sheloran, my girlfriend!”

Lucifer looked over at Sheloran with angry eyes that shone with a feral, alien intelligence.

Sheloran’s breath caught as she looked into his eyes.

He was fundamentally… wrong. His genetic code butchered, manipulated…

He was built, not natural. Nothing about him felt quite right… and he knew it.

It is just like me.

Lucifer released Dwight and approached Sheloran.

“Lucifer?” Dwight said uncertainly as he reached for his stunner.

“It’s alright,” Sheloran said with a distant voice as she reached for the cockatrice.

Lucifer wrapped his neck around her and held her tight.

“I know,” Sheloran whispered to Lucifer as he clung to her.

***

“WelorangeJuice dkutist thang!” Dwight’s mother, a tall, spindly woman with an unfortunately round head and large, almost protruding eyes, exclaimed as she stepped out of her very normal twentieth-century-looking house to greet them as they approached.

“Orange juice?” Sheloran asked, confused, as she fumbled for her phone containing Jessie’s translation program.

(American to Terran translation app active. Remember. It doesn’t matter! Smile and nod!)

“She said that she thinks that you are very cute,” Dwight said with a smile.

“Lookit yew tokkin lieka inner!” (Look at you, talking like an inner!)

“It helps if my girlfriend can understand me,” Dwight replied, “You know, the same reason you speak Arabic?”

His mother just laughed.

“Yal komon enan git sumtee.” (Would you care to come inside and partake of some tea?)

“Tea sounds nice!” Sheloran chirped happily as she looked down at her phone. They had the best tea!

“Betha! Dwitanhis girl isher!” (Betha! Dwight and his girlfriend have arrived!)

“Wut?” (What?) a female voice called out from what sounded like beneath them.

“Dat froggir anDwgiharher!” (That frog girl and Dwight are here!)

“Komn!” (Coming!)

As Dwight’s mother pulled a pitcher of tea from the fridge, a door opened, and an absolutely gorgeous olive-skinned young woman entered.

“Hiim Betha!” (Hello, I am Betha!) she said as she extended her hand, “Yewrelaharbleu!” (You really are blue!)

“Hi. I’m Sheloran. It’s nice to meet you.” Sheloran replied, shaking her hand. “You’re Dwight’s sister?”

“Yeh! Welhafsisr anywai. Wig’t diffen das.” (Yes! Well, half-sister anyway. We have different fathers.)

“Sew ura… Plath?” (So, you are a Plath?)

“Yes,” Sheloran smiled as they all sat at a nice wooden table with a floral print tablecloth.

With great fanfare, Dwight’s mother opened the fridge and produced a large lemon.

“Going all out, aren’t you?” Dwight chuckled.

“Iz nutebry daidat yewbrin home agir,” (It’s not every day that you bring home a girl.) his mother said as she smiled at Sheloran and sliced four thick slices from the lemon.

She proudly cut each one and placed them on the rim of each glass of iced tea.

“Iznic tafinaly gita mecha,” (It’s nice to finally be allowed to meet you.) she beamed at Sheloran. “Dwihaben hidin’a,” (Dwight has been hiding you from us.)

“Yeh,” (Yes) Betha grinned, “Wididnkno fyewer rel!” (We were not sure if you actually existed.)

“Well, I do!” Sheloran beamed back as she snuggled Dwight, causing him to blush and a chorus of “aww” to issue from the others.

The conversation became light small talk where the following was learned:

1. Sheloran was definitely not a pooping terrorist. Okay, she may have killed a few people… but there were a lot of extenuating circumstances.
2. Yes, she did escape Tartarus, and it wasn’t her fault!
3. (Sigh) Yes, she did run a brothel… But it was by accident! Yes, it is the one from the infamous commercial. (facepalm)
4. The giant holographic graven image was NOT her pooping idea, and she is turning it off the second she gets back!
5. She had never brainwashed anyone!

This delighted Dwight’s family to no end. Not only had Dwight finally gotten a girlfriend, she was an awesomely cool one!

After tea (with real lemon! Not easily come by in the Oort.) Sheloran got a tour of the family farm, where she learned that they mainly just had a really big garden and, while they did produce “amesha watermelons” (a significant number of watermelons), their main product was cockatrice hens.

“Erywun wanda hens bu’nowun wansta meswit da rusters.” (Everyone wants the hens, but nobody desires to handle the roosters.)

Lucifer was, in fact, a prize rooster and had fathered most of the hens in Bannon, and their fertilized eggs and chicks were a nice export as well.

And, yes, Lucifer was every bit as dangerous as he looked. He was, however, especially bright and even-tempered for a cockatrice. Unfortunately, that meant that he only was somewhat likely to try to take your face off.

And he took an immediate liking to Sheloran, following her around like a huge murderous puppy.

“LiB. In evah seenhi taka liekin ta somwun s’aquik!” (My goodness, I’ve never seen him take a liking to someone so quickly!) Betha exclaimed as she scratched Lucifer’s neck.

“Saguhdsin,” (Indeed. It is certainly a good omen.) Dwight’s mother, Ida-Sue, agreed.

***

Later that afternoon, as Sheloran was helping Betha gather a truly stupid number of eggs, she started giggling.

“Washu laufnbout?” (Pray tell, what has you so amused?)

“Oh, nothing,” Sheloran replied with a huge smile. “I’m just so happy…”

She sighed.

“It feels like home…”

***

Across the galaxy, Jessica Morgan was not giggling.

She was scowling at a group of terrified faces on a wall of archaic OLED screens in her office.

“…a… and w-we think t-that we could achieve r-reasonably good performance w-when y-you…”

“It’s a coilgun, doctor,” she said to the bespectacled woman. “It’s a fucking coilgun. This isn’t a high-school science fair or a back alley mugging.”

“B-but… T-the t-terminal b-ballistics…”

“Are subpar at best. The trash’ nail guns’ we are handing out now have better performance. You are starting to make me question your suitability for this project... and your upcoming berth on a research ship. I need people who produce results, Doctor, and we have neither the food nor the air to waste on those who do not.”

“P-please! M-my t-team… W-we have… we have…”

“You have a week. Dr. Waycroft? Please improve my mood.”

“Certainly,” the thin doctor replied smugly as an image of a sleek weapon appeared. “We already have an iconic small arm, the sabergun. The only drawback is that production is extremely limited due to the supercapacitor upon which it relies. However, we can utilize the admittedly inferior but widely available and much more easily manufactured zeta capacitor to produce a weapon that has a much-reduced rate of fire and power but still is more than sufficient for your average combatant.”

“Interesting,” Jessica said as she leaned forward.

“Our prototype has a rate of fire comparable to a gunpowder arm and can utilize the same ammunition as the sabergun, simplifying logistics. Its armor piercing and damage are very promising. With a simplified fire control system more in keeping with normal small arms, production would be further simplified as would training of its operators.”

“Splendid,” Jessica Morgan smiled. “When will it be ready to demonstrate?”

“The prototype is ready now, General.”

“I will be in touch,” Jessica purred. “I look forward to the demonstration, doctor.”

She then turned to Bella Morgan, her great-granddaughter.

“And you, Bella?”

“I have nothing to report,” Bella said quietly. “It’s not ready.”

“Excuse me?” Jessica said icily.

“We’ve run into… issues… with the prototypes, and they are not ready.”

“That’s hardly a surprise,” Doctor Waycroft snorted.

“Do you have something to say, Doctor?” Jessica asked with a dangerous edge in her voice.

“General,” he said, “Forgive me. I know she is your granddaughter…”

“Great-granddaughter,” Jessica replied.

“Sorry, great-granddaughter,” he continued, “but I have grave concerns about her, her team, and their conduct. My laboratory is on the same floor as theirs, and their ‘lab’ and their team are a constant source of disruption and distraction. They play loud music and worse. They have even engaged in drug-fueled orgies!”

Jessica looked over at Bella’s monitor.

She was smirking.

“Bella?” she asked.

“It wasn’t an orgy…” Bella replied. “…I mean, a couple of people got carried away, but I wouldn’t call it an orgy.”

“Explain… now.”

“I provided mild neural enhancers, hallucinogens, and euphorics to my staff, and they took them under my direction during brainstorming sessions in order to increase creativity and reduce inhibitions…”

She grinned.

“Some of my staff were not used to them at first, and a few of them had very strong feelings concerning other members of my team, and in one or two isolated cases, the feelings were mutual, and there might have been some ‘activities’ as a result that might have taken place in the environs of my lab… But they were in private, like in an office or closet. It certainly was not an ‘orgy’.”

“You… You forced your people to take drugs?” Jessica asked with a surprised smile.

“They were mild ones! I mean, it was nothing that you don’t see in your average pulse party… um… mostly…”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly,” Bella said evasively. “Everyone’s okay, though, and our creative sessions became over two hundred percent more effective! We are really onto something!”

“So, what has the drug-fueled fornication yielded, then?” Jessica asked, trying not to laugh.

She was impressed. Force-feeding your researchers drugs? That was kind of hardcore. It was the sort of thing she would do.

“Um… It’s not quite ready. We still have a few things to work out.”

“And when do you expect to be able to deliver a prototype?”

“General, if I may,” Doctor Waycroft interjected, “They are playing video games and…”

“And just putting a scope on an old 22nd-century rifle?” Bella smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I told Clarissa to tell you.”

“What?!?”

“When you started leaning on her and the others, trying to intimidate them concerning their future academic careers, they came straight to me,” Bella smiled, “I’ve been feeding you a steady stream of bullshit ever since. Drug-fueled orgies? Video games? I’m extremely disappointed you didn’t tell gran about me running around topless, wearing a sex toy strapped to my head. I was proud of that one.”

Doctor Waycroft turned scarlet as snickering broke out.

“Is this true, Doctor?” Jessica asked, “Did you use undue influence to spy upon another compartmentalized project?”

“I… I was concerned… because…”

“Because I don’t have a doctorate, and he believes I was given my project solely because I’m your ‘granddaughter’,” Bella replied coolly. “He has also repeatedly said that he deserves control of my project in addition to his own and the berths on the future research ships that would provide, of course. Berths that he is dangling in front of the academic community like so much bait. Doctor, you are correct, but you completely missed the point. Yes, I am the General’s great-granddaughter. That means that I am a Morgan. And you, Doctor, tried to fuck over a Morgan. Bad move.”

An image of Doctor Waycroft’s weapon appeared on Bella’s screen.

“Before you ask, no. I did not spy on Doctor Waycroft to get this,” Bella smiled. “I got it from the same place he did.”

“What?” Jessica asked with an incredibly dangerous edge to her voice.

“This is preposterous!” Doctor Waycroft spluttered.

“No, it’s plagiarism,” Bella replied. “As you are aware, Doctor Waycroft still teaches engineering, and it seems that he issued a rather interesting assignment to his students. This weapon was submitted by one Gareth Neilson… who was told that his ideas were garbage and was given a C, by the way. You aren’t the only one with academic contacts, Doctor.”

“Doctor,” Jessica Morgan said calmly, “Is this true?”

“It… It’s a completely different design!”

“Really?” Bella replied, “How?”

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to be able to understand…”

“What about me?” Jessica smiled. “Would I be able to understand? Would a team of engineers that I can make appear in moments understand the complexities involved?”

So, he shares a floor with you? appeared on Bella’s screen.

Yep.

Bella, what do you think of the situation?

You want me to kill him, don’t you?

So we are in agreement, then?

Bella just made a sour expression on the screen, got up with a huff, and walked out of frame.

Jessica just sipped her tea, tuning out Doctor Waycroft’s explanations, desperate flailing, and continued accusations concerning Bella and her team.

“And furthermore…” Doctor Waycroft started to say and then fell silent.

“Bella… What…” he started to say as his eyes widened, “BELLA!... NO!... WAI—”

There was a strangely sharp crack…

…and Doctor Waycroft’s head exploded, spraying his office and the camera with what was inside his head just a moment ago, leaving only a flap of skin and hair.

“Goddammit!” a voice shouted.

“Again?!?” Bella exclaimed.

“Same fucking thing!” it barely penetrated the skull before it exploded. It was nowhere near dead center! I’m talking like maybe a centimeter of penetration... tops!”

“Shit!” Bella shouted from off-screen.

“I don’t get it,” the other voice moaned. “It works in the simulations, but every time we test it on a real human, the same thing happens!”

“Gawd!” Bella cried. “I guess it’s back to the drawing board… again!”

“Bella!” Jessica snapped her voice carrying over the panicked chaos from the other people on the conference call.

“Yeah?”

“General!” someone shouted, “She killed him!”

“Really? Are you sure?” Jessica asked sardonically, “Bella.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Wipe off the camera so I can see you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A rather blurry Bella stepped into frame.

“Bella,” Jessica said gravely, “Is the reason your project isn’t ready is that the explosive round isn’t exploding exactly in the center of the brain?”

“…”

“Bella…”

“I mean, there are other issues, too!”

“Such as?”

“Um… the stock?... and the trigger needs a little work… and the color… I mean…”

“Bella!”

Bella looked down.

“I know you,” Jessica smiled. “Have you let your perfectionism get in the way again?”

“No…”

“Bella. This is like your recital all over again, isn’t it? You remember the one, the one where you locked yourself in your room and threw a very valuable violin out of your window?”

“This… This is completely…”

“Or the infamous ‘birthday cake incident’?”

Bella flinched.

“Bella Morgan,” Jessica said firmly. “You will meet me tomorrow morning at ten thirty with what you have right now, and you will demonstrate it… In its current version at that time. You will not make any frantic last-minute adjustments to anything. In fact, you and your team will go home and not touch anything until the demonstration. Is that clear?”

“Yes, gran,” Bella said glumly.

“General!” someone cried, “She killed Doctor Waycroft!”

“And she will kill you, too,” Jessica smiled approvingly. “Wait. Did I overhear the fact that you’ve tested your weapon on live subjects?”

“Um… Yes?”

“How many?”

“Five?” Bella replied uncertainly, “But they were all real assholes. That’s how we found out that our simulations were off… somehow… However, our simulations of projected tissue damage were right on the money.”

Jessica nodded approvingly.

“Who pulled the trigger?”

“I did,” Bella replied, “It’s my project. It’s my responsibility. I’m not putting that on one of my people. They are academics. Not killers like us.”

Jessica smiled.

Bella was turning out very promising, indeed.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

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