I opened the door and stepped inside. The feral kid’s eyes bugged when he saw me.
“Stompa’ Man! No chew me! No chew me! I no big rise!” He squealed.
“Do you know him?” Valia asked me, confused.
“All the feral kids know of Hank,” MTB said.
I walked closer to the feral kid, not saying anything. Even in a steel alloy building like this, the floor vibrated as I walked. It was pretty intimidating.
I stood far enough away that he could take me all in.
“You a leader? A boss? A chief?” I asked him.
“I no big rise. No boss. You big boss, Stompa’ Man. You big rise.”
“You tell others to fight.”
“I say. They say. Good claw.” He tried to motion with his hands but they were secured to the table. The feral kid language was a lot of non-verbal. You point at something or someone and that’s pretty hard to misunderstand.
“Uncuff him,” I said.
MTB did so roughly.
The street lingo changed constantly. And since my arms were heavy and unwieldy, I couldn’t do their little sign talk. I tried to remember the words.
“Why you claw the… colors?” I said, trying to describe the Order members.
“Good claw. Big chow,” he explained, with an array of gestures thrown in.
“No claw. Uh, free chow.”
He cocked his head, not understanding. He didn’t know what free meant. That concept was lost on a feral kid.
“Charity. Give. You. Trash chow.” I was just guessing now.
“Junk?”
“Yeah!”
The feral kid seemed disturbed. Like he understood that they attacked people who were giving them help. No one ever helped the feral kids.
“Junk you,” I said. I then motioned someone having an item and giving it away, and then held my hands up like I was okay with that transaction.
He sat there blinking and then grew angry.
“Ghost arm,” he said.
Valia looked back at me.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“19-10,” I said. “Draw it,” I told MTB.
“I never saw 19-10, Boss,” he answered.
“I explained him to you,” I said, annoyed.
MTB pretended to be a teleporting four-armed battlesuit. It was incredibly clear he had never been an actor. If I hadn’t known he was trying to show 19-10, I would’ve assumed he was having a seizure.
“Quit it. Valia, you try.”
She hesitated and then drew in the air a torso, four arms, and two legs.
“Poof,” I added, opening both my hands, and then looking around.
“Ghost arm!” The feral kid confirmed, nodding. He also made numerous noises like pshoo and flashes with his hands and put them all over his body. That could be the golden-silver color of 19-10 and his armor reflecting light.
“What’s all this mean?” MTB asked me.
“19-10 got the feral kids to attack the Order,” I said.
“Why?” Valia asked.
“I don’t know.”
CHAPTER 22
I was back on the Royal Wing walking with Uulath.
I had some follow-up questions based on what the feral kid had said.
The Royal Wing had a lot of ferals. It was actually a pretty decent spot for them. Here they learned full Colmarian, learned to work in a kind of society, learned some skills. In some ways they were better off here than being out west in Belvaille.
A cage is still a cage, though.
As we were walking and Uulath was filling me in on details of some makeshift construction they were doing, I heard a woman screaming.
“What’s that?” I asked Uulath.
“Nothing,” he said.
I followed the voice, which was definitely high-pitched panic and crying out “no.”
“It’s a wedding,” Uulath declared, walking in front of me to try and slow me down.
“Wedding?” I asked, continuing to plod forward. “Doesn’t sound very joyous.”
“It’s how we do things here. A citizen has won the right to take a bride after dutiful service to the Royal Wing.”
“Does she have a say in this?”
“Eh,” Uulath stammered, making the answer clear.
As I kept going the citizens of Royal Wing stared at me. It struck me as poignant that I was far more a curiosity than one of their fellow inmates screaming.
“Hank,” Uulath pleaded, “this is our law. I have to be able to reward people. It’s either rewards or punishments. You know that.”
I paused, thinking, then continued onward.
There was a kind of hut made of some wires with sheets hung over it. I tore off the sheet and there was a lady on the ground fighting off a man. Both were clothed, if you could call the rags they had around here clothes, and locked in a ferocious struggle.
On seeing me, the woman stopped immediately. The man, noticing her gaze, turned and also froze.
I had no authority here. I dumped off prisoners and kept them on the verge of death until they eventually did croak. These people were the worst of Belvaille, which was not exactly a city of angels.
I recognized the woman. She had been a cook on Belvaille who poisoned several customers so she could rob them. But her face held fear.
I had let this prison exist because I had no other ideas what to do with its inhabitants. I never fixed anything on Belvaille. I just shifted the problem.
I think it’s because I didn’t believe Belvaille had a chance. I had seen the galaxy descend into civil war and then completely break apart. Things had gotten worse and worse every year since. The Belvaille of 150 years ago was a violent, criminal haven, that housed the scum of the empire, but it would have been absolutely terrified to see what the city was today.
But how was I better than anything I was pretending to fight if I could create a place like the Royal Wing?
Maybe what this prison, this city, this galaxy needed was some hope.
“Stop it,” I said to the man.
“Hank, it’s the law,” Uulath said.
“You live or die based on my whims,” I bellowed, “you’re going to tell me your laws?”
Uulath backed away, terrified.
“From now on, there will be laws here. Real laws.”
Some citizens drew near to listen.
“If you adhere to the laws, you will be rewarded. If you don’t, you will be further punished.”
“W-what are the laws?” Uulath asked, shuddering.
“Uh. I don’t know yet.”
“What rewards?” someone asked.
There was now a crowd of about a dozen prisoners standing around listening raptly. I spoke as clearly and loudly as I could.
“If you adhere to all the regulations, you may, after a suitable period of time, be allowed back to Belvaille as a true citizen. It will not be an easy task,” I warned.
No one clapped. No one smiled. They only stared. Maybe hope was not allowed under their current laws.
Uulath, however, fell to his knees, his mouth wide open. His hands went up to his face but didn’t quite touch it. He seemed to be legitimately in shock.
“Hank,” Uulath fumbled over his tongue, “we all thank you!”
“Come on,” I barked at him.
He jumped to his feet.
“You,” I pointed to the woman, “you’re not married anymore.”
I then pointed to the man and he bounded away from her like she was on fire.
After we had walked some distance I thought of something else.
“How many ‘marriages’ are there?” I asked.
“About sixty. Not many women here,” Uulath replied.
“Are they all like that one?”
“I suppose. Yes. No one came here married. But I think some have grown into them.”
“Damn.”
I took out my radio.
“Valia.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to board the Royal Wing in a bit and validate some marriages.”