Shock Therapy, CH 02 (Patreon)

Tristan straightened as he stepped between the buildings and officially out of the human part of the city and into the Samalian neighborhood. He didn’t stretch to undo the strain of being hunched over like the docile Samalian humans needed him to be had caused, doing so would make him as even more of an outsider among the Samalian, among his people, and the sniffing of the air close to him indicated they already knew him to be.

They greeted him with ‘Source be with you’ and he responded in kind without the trace of an accent, either human or Roug’arn, the dialect he’d grown up with, the one he’d picked up the easiest on deciding to learn his people’s language. He was still making it through those surrounding the House Hea’las lead, but as it was so common among Samalians, he had learned the greetings in every dialect around the port cities, so that he would never come across as too much of a stranger. 

While he’d prefer not dealing with the cities; there were too many humans, and he hadn’t worked out how to behave around the Samalian’s here. He needed the training and to watch them so he could build the proper masks to walk among them unnoticed.

Hea’las said he didn’t have to. He was Samalian, regardless of how he acted. But she spoke as someone who has seen him at his lowest. Broken. Everyone there had. And that gave Tristan a freedom to not bother with a mask.

But here? Every instinct screamed that if anyone who noticed him had to be eliminated, lest they become the universe’s tool in his destruction.

Only the universe didn’t seek to destroy him. He knew that. He didn’t know if the delusion had been instilled by his father, with his Survivor’s belief that only by relying on himself could he hope to survive anything the world threw at him, or if Tristan had adopted it somewhere along the way, needing an enemy to justify the extremes he went to in ensuring his survival.

Knowing it had been a delusion hadn’t made the need to act on it vanish. It only gave him the ability to control them. And a desire to understand what governed the universe, if not the universe’s hate for him.

That was also a reason behind the need to visit a city as part of the resupply run. He had scoured the networks for any information on his people’s beliefs and understanding of the universe, but all he’d found were treatise by humans more interested in justifying their belief in Samalian’s primitiveness and inferiority. What he needed was his people’s views, not humans. And that could only be found in texts written by Samalians and kept out of human’s hand by those who understood how destructive they were.

“Source be with you,” he told the older female across the table ladened with tomes. “I seek knowledge.” He couldn’t keep an accent from slipping into his words in any extended conversation, so he’d opted for being a speaker of Rorlar’grr doing his best with the local Klestran.

She motioned to the books between them. “Knowledge is plentiful, to those wise enough to seek.”

“What I seek isn’t in these books.” Simply by their scents, he could tell they were fabricated. Hea’las had let him look through the few books she’d been able to save when she left the city. There had been little information he’d found useful. They were primarily explanations of who the Forces were thought to have been before the Source elevated them. What they had taught him was their texture, that of aged leather, cracked, even when well cared for, the smell of the pounded pulp of the reeds that had been turned into the paper. And simply what something old was.

“Then you may find it in those boxes they put everywhere,” she replied disdainfully. “Or those pad those of age carry.” She looked him over, and it was an effort to mold himself into who she wanted to see so she’d do as he needed. He wasn’t confident in his knowledge of Samalian psychology yet, but he’d picked up enough from the elders around Hea’las’s House to know that she expected him to defer to her on everything as a show of respect.

“The network only holds what they want it to hold, not what I need to find.” His voice was firmed, but carried a similar disdain as hers had. “They have told me what I should believe. Now, I seek the proper source to knowledge.”

It would be simpler to break into her home and get them, he told himself.

But it would be what a merc did, what someone who had no respect for what he took did.

Holding those books of Hea’las had…done something to him.

As a further gesture of his intent, he took the sphere from his pocket. 

Another change, as part of seeking to understand his people. This simple sphere, which in Samalian belief, encompassed everything. The Source of all.

“You hold it as one unsure,” she said, but her tone was gentle.

“I am new to understanding the Source, still in need of understanding. I read of the Forces in a House, but they only hint there is more to know.”

“The House of which city?” she asked in poorly masked curiosity.

He shook his head. “Not of a city.”

Her ears twitched, and she leaned forward. “There is one still standing?” she asked in a low voice.

“More,” he answered truthfully. Not many had survived intact, but Samalians were resourceful and adaptable. If raiders were going to destroy your community’s House because of what it represented, well, it was simple to make it something they no longer recognized.

Hope glimmered in her eyes. “Come, I may have something to enlighten you.”

* * * * *

He hunched his shoulders as the end of the alley approached, made himself smaller, weaker, seeming. His gaze absent. The satchel with the few books she had been willing to lend him he kept between his arm and side. He wouldn’t risk the content, no matter what.

He was no longer a Samalian, but one of those walking emptiness LeisureTek had turned many of his people into. The humans that populated the street still kept away from him. It was the rare human who wasn’t repulsed by anything not them. Even rarer the one who sought them out.

Tristan was lucky, twice over, if not more. A Human had found him, seen him, all of him, and hadn’t not only not been repulsed, he’d forced himself into his life against Tristan’s most violent protest. And he had still been there when Tristan had finally been made to understand how wrong he’d been about the universe and what Alex represented.

Every time he saw Alex, Tristan could see a future without a constant need to survive. A future where they could simply live and enjoy the life they had.

He didn’t react on realizing something was wrong. He remained the meek shadow of a Samalian, but he became more attentive.

Alex wasn’t at the rendez-vous point. They’d parted there, and were to meet there, because there were approved Samalian housing in that direction, as well as the landing pad where their hover waited. A human and a Samalian who happened to walk in the same direction wouldn’t be too noticeable.

Alex was responsible for getting heal-alls, food, as well as finalizing delivery of construction material a Samalian could never hope to obtain. Every Human on the planet knew Samalians weren’t smart enough to do more than hold a wall while it was welded in place.

Tristan was early, so he reminded himself this wasn’t an emergency.

Yet.

He could wait here. An empty Samalian waiting for his master was not so unusual.

Or he could go and confirm everything was fine. He wouldn’t have to interact with Alex, only get a visual on him. He’d attract some attention, but he was empty, so most would simply ignore his presence.

Alex could handle himself, no matter what might happen to him. Tristan had seen to it.

Tristan had seen to it Alex would deal with anything without restraint.

It wouldn’t happen. There were no reasons anyone would notice him among other humans.

Tristan moved. He forced himself to maintain the mask, but he walked toward the market the businesses Alex needed to deal with were located.

He picked up his scent and relaxed slightly. An advantage of how intimate they had become was that he knew all nuances of his human’s scents. It made tracking him easier, not that he often needed to. He passed the builder’s business and his scent entered, then left. He was happy, pleased with the result. The scent took him to the medical supplier, and again, Alex entered and left, only he didn’t return to the meeting point. It was still early, and Alex had a fondness for marketplaces. He continued and saw him in his usual gray and crimson jacket and pants, in a heated discussion with a human over an object Tristan couldn’t make out this distance.

He almost left, having confirmed Alex was fine. An argument wouldn’t lead to anything problematic.

He stopped half turn.

But the Samalian approaching with determination could.

Tristan couldn’t hurry without attracting attention, so the other Samalian reached Alex first.

He was Samalian in fur only. LeisureTek had done something to him. They hadn’t turned this one empty, instead they had filled him, and others like him, with humanness. Such as covering himself in a uniform that did nothing more than announce the position and rank his master had given him.

He was one of LeisureTek’s security force. A parody of what it meant to protect his people, and had turned him and the others like him against his people.

“I believe,” the Samalian guard said in perfect Standard, “that this merchant has stated he isn’t going to sell the piece you are interested in.”

“And I told him,” Alex replied, teeth clenched, “that it’s not his to sell. That belongs to the people who actually live here and I’m going to take it back to them. He can take my credits and give it to me, of I can shove my—”

“Maybe this could be resolved in private?” Tristan said softly, arriving as the Samalian was about to put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He, too, spoke perfect Standard, so the guard looked at him with curiosity, rather than suspicious. “For the benefit of the peace of the other shoppers?” Tristan added. He eyed Alex as the guard looked around, then the hand on the hidden sheath.

Tristan hated the ease with which Alex contained his anger simply from the look. While he didn’t want this to escalate. He also wanted more than someone who simply obeyed him. The way the empty Samalians obeyed their masters.

Alex wasn’t empty.

But Tristan had made sure he obeyed him without question.

And that was something he needed to undo, somehow.

“Yes,” the guard said. “The happiness and comfort of the customers is paramount. Let’s take this somewhere they won’t have to see the disturbance.”

Tristan meekly took the lead, and Alex followed him, which forced the Samalian to follow them. He headed for the closest alley. It wasn’t ideal, not as deep as needed, but there were not stalls close to it, and anything further would cause the guard to question where they were going and assert his authority. That would only lead to Alex acting.

Tristan stopped halfway to the end of the alley, and turned, with the mouth far too close for his liking, but the barely contained anger in Alex’s eyes needing his full attention.

“Yes,” the Samalian said in a satisfied tone, “This will do for me to explain proper behavior when dealing with a merchant over a trinket without importance.”

The only thing holding Alex in place at the utter dismissiveness of something he considered important was Tristan’s gaze locked on his. He didn’t want to let this happen. Not because clean up would be complicated, but because it was a reminder of what he had turned this man he loved into.

“Are you sure there’s no other way?” Tristan asked gently.

“This man disrespected one of the merchants,” the Samalian replied.

“That thing,” Alex said through clenched teeth, “is an abomination. You can’t tell me you think it should live.”

Tristan didn’t care what happened to the guard. He didn’t matter; he was nothing more than a thing. But Alex needed to unleash that rage Tristan had so carefully cultivated in him. That need to kill.

“Make it quick.”

“This isn’t something—” the Samalian said, then gasped as Alex stabbed him multiple times, each on adding an injury that spoke of intimate knowledge of Samalian anatomy. The guard was dead by the third stab, but his brain didn’t register that fact until the seventh, and Alex got in two more before the body went limp.

Tristan kept an eye on the alley’s entrance. No one had walked across, and there had been no one on either side, but he couldn’t know if someone had moved close enough to hear the soft sounds.

“What the fuck was that?” Alex demanded, waving the bloody knife in Tristan’s face. “I thought we were going to force me to say I’m sorry or some fucking thing like that! Why bother with this alley if you were just going to let me kill him!”

“In public? Alex, there were hundreds of witnesses in the market.”

“What? You think I couldn’t deal with all of them? Do you doubt what I’m capable of?”

“Never,” Tristan stated without hesitation. “But there was no need to kill anyone over this.”

Alex looked at him in disbelief. “No need? Are you fucking kidding me? Where do you get off telling me there’s no need to kill when you are the one who fucking gave me that need? He was in my way! What’s the rule about someone getting in our way, Tristan?”

Tristan closed his eyes not to see that hate directed at him. “I know I did this to you, Alex. And I am sorry.”

“A lot of fucking good that’s doing me. You made me to kill and you aren’t giving me anything to kill. You’re keeping us groundside when it’s upside that what I can kill is. Do you fucking think this is helping me?”

Tristan forced himself to look at the anger. “I will fix this, Alex.” He grabbed him by the shoulder before Alex turned away. “I will find a way to give you back the life you had.”

“I don’t want that life back,” he snarled. “I want you.”

“You have me, Alex. All of me.”

Alex snorted. “Not the killer, as far as I can tell.”

“I can still kill Alex,” Tristan replied severely. “I’ve demonstrated that. I’ve just realized that it doesn’t have to be the first answer to everything. You don’t want to be who you used to be,” he said, cutting off the protest. “That’s fine. But I will find a way to give you that understanding, Alex. To give you the ability to make the decision when to kill, instead of letting the need to kill decide for you. I swear on the Defender that I will.”

“I don’t want…” Alex trailed off and looked tired. He looked at the dead Samalian and sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy to dispose of.”

Tristan nodded. “But at least you were able to wait until we were somewhere the body isn’t going to be found until we have what we need.”

“Theres’s an industrial cleaner who’ll have the level of dissolver we need,” Alex said, turning away, but Tristan pulled him back.

“Alex, I’m not angry or disappointed in you. I need you to believe me. This isn’t on you.”

The doubt was clear in Alex’s storm gray eyes, so Tristan kissed him. Tenderly at first, then harsher. Then he had him against the wall.

If they were going to have to dissolve a body, the stuff would be strong enough to remove any genetic material they left behind.