Related by Lora, Twilit Majz of Many Generations
 

Xexra and I stood waiting for Pon and Zygon. The vast cavern echoed around us as her people moved quickly, arranging supplies. I supposed all this activity was centered on Pon and his ‘plan.’

“I am sorry we did not have time to get to know one another,” she said softly, her eyes thoughtful as she looked down at me.

“I am too,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about your world’s history, for one thing.”

“My world’s history,” Xexra mused, bitterness in her voice. “That is a long story. If you wished to understand it properly, you would need years, not minutes, not hours.”

“Well, that can be said of the history of any race, meaning no disrespect of course,” I replied cautiously.

“I suppose,” Xexra said sharply. “I have no interest in other races or their histories. I wish only to survive my own.”

“I see,” I replied lamely.

“It is not for lack of native compassion,” Xexra said defensively. “It is just that the struggle for our existence consumes everything I am, everything I ever hoped to be or have. If Pon is successful, we can finally bring an end to this clash of wills. We can restore sanity, order, majesty to our race.”

“Well, that is Pon’s hope, and I suppose mine as well. I know some small details of your situation – that the Purics killed all their women, gave control of their lives to a bunch of sentient computers, that they prey on you and the rest of the Organics.”

Xexra gave a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.

“Small details,” she reiterated, pain shaking her voice. “How our lives are warped by small details,” she continued, rage surging through her frame, then out to crackle the very air between us.

“The Purics submitted control of their lives to those cursed assemblages of circuits and biofluids long before they killed all their females. It was my ancestors who clearly saw the error of this submission. We knew in our bones that the destiny of any race must remain in its own hands. No outsider must ever control the smallest detail of another race’s life. Those damned machines can never be anything else but Outsider.”

The telltale prickles up the back of my spine I had experienced earlier returned in force. I saw their origin now. I was an Outsider. Zygon was an Outsider. I wondered why this creature tolerated our presence. I wondered how that played into Pon’s plans for us. I was beginning to get a strong feel for his drive to do anything for his People. I wasn’t sure that drive boded well, at least for me.

“Well, it seems obvious to any thinking being,” I finally replied, “that machines, even if sentient, are not qualified to understand the basic needs or function of organic sentients. My kind have a sentient machine companion, but both we and zie realize our places relative to each other. Zie is our friend, and we take care of zir, but zie does not dictate anything to us.”

I said this with a ferocity I had not intended, especially since I had not been born in the Age of Raynah. Zie went sentient three generations after my time of origin. I had had some small dealings with zie though, and I could see zir relationship with the Isles Wanderers was very circumscribed indeed. Be that as it was, my ferocity had its effect on Xexra.

“Then you understand our position exactly,” she said. Her breathing indicated excitement. “I see why Pon selected you.”

In that moment, a small door opened into her mind. My long years of training in observation allowed me to see into it for just a second, to see Pon’s rationale, and hers, for tolerating me. The images of a female being raped I had received from Pon’s dreams hit me full force. In a flash I knew why I was here. His plan probably required the assistance of a female, but she would mostly likely not survive. The Organics had sacrificed enough of their females. Pon would sacrifice no more. An Outsider was the perfect answer.

A thread of tension linked Xexra and I for long moments. She sensed my line of reasoning quite well. I have never been good at hiding my thoughts. 

“I suppose your resolve to help Life is being somewhat tested,” she finally said.

“It is,” I agreed.

At that moment Pon and Zygon appeared in our midst. Clearly Zygon and the Beni had re-oriented them. In that moment, the back of my mind yielded a surprising insight – Zygon was a wildcard. Whatever Pon and his people had been planning could not have included him. 

I wondered how I might make use of this insight, Zygon, and my own zeal to live on the edge while serving Life, and survive this all at the same time.

Pon and Zygon had definitely corrupted me. 
 

to be continued...
 
 

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