Bruen's Story 17: What are Cold Feet?

  Sba City, as the aviaformes are now calling his base, is quiet today. The quiet is due not just to those playing tourist, but to the anxiousness of those who wait behind. The resident aviaformes move around quietly, lost in their worries for their friends.

  Even his soldiers are less boisterous than usual, speaking in subdued tones even when they don't think Bruen is around.

  Bruen surveys the area glumly. It hurts his pride to be doing the work of a Pel. Not because the work is undignified; Pel are greatly respected.

  He sees no enemies to fight, nor does he expect there to be any. The only fighting he can expect is another spar with the highly augmented alien, Don Yosip. Yosip doesn't fight to kill, and thus Bruen too must hold back, lessening Bruen's enjoyment of the experience.

  Yet, that is not why he is unsatisfied. He could accept Pel duty, if there were some threat of violence. Some crime or problem to solve.

  But events proceed, calmly and without fuss, from one to the next without needing his input. He can only watch, and feel that he is wasted. With troubled thoughts comes anxious energy.

  Being surrounded by his people only makes it worse for him. Unable to endure waiting here, under the gaze of his soldiers, Bruen turns and glides down a random block, seeking seclusion. He pays no attention to what or who he passes. They'll continue efficiently without needing his approval or acknowledgement. Tall, blocky buildings with open topped roofs where businesses and craft shops are already opening up. He pays them no mind.

  Other thoughts also swirl through his mind. Bruen worries about the things he's being shown in his dreams. Scenes of Somner Zek's harsh training. Knowledge of the madness and mutation fated to their castes. Images of elder thaumatists hidden away beyond the reach and knowledge of the Duv.

  Worries that at his next review he'll be forced to confess to forbidden knowledge, if asked directly.

  "They have to know something," he mutters as he slides past a pair of brilliant sapphire hued aviaformes, not even noticing their polite greetings. The Duv wouldn't give him such an unusual posting unless they wished to test his loyalty. He turns this thought over and over in his mind, unable to guess why they wouldn't just execute him if they suspected.

  What kind of game are they playing?

  He's so distracted that he bumps directly into a four-armed alien. One of a group here with Yosip's latest challenger.

  Bruen apologizes before seeking a less populated part of the city. He passes constructions built to look like canyon walls. The outskirts of the city, once labyrinthine passages, now house the aviaformes. Homes tunnel into the stone walls and lead to hidden nests. It's quieter here, so he slows down.

  A larger open area where passages connect is a community hub which contains a park. Feathered workers dig with their taloned feet, then bend to place plants native to their home world into the imported soil. Bruen decides to stop here and watch while he thinks.

  The plants are unimpressive, to Bruen's eyes. Dry, thorny bushes and waxy green barrels covered in rows of sharp spines. The workers handle the plants carefully, avoiding the sharp thorns with their flexible tongues. He wonders briefly if they produce edible fruits or seeds, before deciding it is unimportant. The aviaformes probably just like having reminders of their past around.

  Rocks arranged in artful patterns break up the landscape, adding focal points around which groups may gather. Bruen seeks one out to recline against. The bright red stones are also imported and stand out against the darker brown and gray of the megastructure. Especially to his peripheral eyes, as they glow vividly in the thermal range.

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  He sinks into the warm sand, ignoring that it clings to his thin outer coating. It will come off easily enough. He leans back against the soothing stone. Thermal elements hidden beneath it cause it to radiate a comfortable heat.

  His thoughts slow, but like a length of driftwood carried by a cruel tide, they keep returning to dark topics each time he thinks himself free of them.

  The Spanless Empire is not a force for good. It enables the survival of his species, yes. But it throttles their potential to do so. It grinds living beings down into interchangeable components custom designed for their tasks, stripping away any individuality in exchange for greater efficiency.

  From his previous position at the bottom of the hierarchy, it remains impossible to envision the completeness of the control the very top holds the rest in. From his new place nearer the top, his peers are kept isolated from anything that could bring awareness of the inequity of their position to the forefront.

  Exposure to other cultures highlights to Bruen that things he once had thought normal are anything but. The aviaformes, dependent as they are on the Empire, enjoy more personal freedoms than most of its citizens, but suffer much greater restrictions upon their travel. The feathered people stay within the confines of their colonies, only leaving under escort from soldiers.

  The Selberfeld Imperium, alternatively, represents almost total anarchy when compared to his own society. Individuals are able to move up or down within the social hierarchy, within certain unknown limits. Even military service seems to be voluntary. They do treat the Tserri in much the same way that the Empire treats the aviaformes, however.

  Bruen reflects that no form of government could be perfect, considering the threats that they must cope with. The Southern Tribals are an unrelenting pressure, snuffing out weak and strong alike. Only by becoming what they are have his people been able to fight back. The same could be said for his new potential allies.

  He shifts against the heated stone, no longer quite so comfortable.

  It is upsetting to realize that despite his supposed place of authority, he holds almost no true power to enact change. He can be respectful to his underlings but doing so only brings them to awareness of their mistreatment when they return to another's charge.

  If trying to improve their lives inevitably makes them more miserable, should he stop trying? Is there anything he can do to prevent the cruel end that Zek and those like her will one day face? He shudders, thinking about Zek as a bloated mass that fills an entire room.

  Pushing himself up, Bruen tries to shake off his doubts as easily as he can shed the layer of sand coating him. If only it were so easy.

  He knows why she's been showing him such things and doesn't like it. What could he possibly do to alter the way things are?

  As long as the Duv can smother his ability to resist so easily he knows that he will accede to their demands without regarding the consequences to himself or those he cares about. Even if he could resist their decrees, the rest of the Empire continues operating around him as if he were not there.

  Envy briefly fills him when he considers that Yosip so easily disregards the expectations his leaders hold for him. Those he calls Prime do not wish him to be here, away from their control. Even the elders of that alien society are not a unified front, each Matron or Patron maneuvering for more influence among themselves.

  If his own people were to act in such a manner, the Southern Tribals would overwhelm them easily. Yet somehow the Imperium continues to function. What allows them to continue resisting the tribals while still competing among themselves?

  If Bruen can figure this out, perhaps he can find a solution to his own problems.

  He stands, internal time sense alerting him that he can delay no longer. It is time.

  He brushes the last few grains of sand free from his uniform and moves with purpose back toward the center of the city. Bruen, reminded of his duty, waves at those he passes and murmurs brief encouragements to any soldiers he encounters.

  Doubt still clogs the waterways of his mind, but he continues on as if he were confident in himself. His soldiers can sense uncertainty, and he will not allow himself to cause dissention among them. No matter what it costs him.

  Before he realizes it, he finds himself standing before the spawning pool. There a young female whose name he has yet to learn awaits him. She will be leaving after preforming this vital duty to the Empire, but until then it is considered most unseemly for them to interact.

  Her uniform is a match for his own and she wears it with confidence. She carries a pair of long blades, one in either cluster of lower tendrils. When the female Mos sees him, she sheaths her weapons and turns without a word to enter the alcove set into the left side of the pool.

  Unblemished and without augmentation, she is obviously a recent graduate. She will be leaving afterwards to meet up with her new superior on a battlefield somewhere. He does not know her bloodline, but hopes it is a strong one. It will need to be.

  Bruen acknowledges her demand by silently entering the opposite alcove. More officers will be needed in the near future.