Half-Breed

1

Half-breed!

Amber Calico spun and slashed at the Felly who'd insulted her, her claws raking through fur and whisker, the tabby cheek sprouting livid red stripes.

The two opponents squared off, the commissary going instantly silent.

She looks as surprised as I feel, Amber thought. She'd just squeezed her hybrid bulk into the narrow checkout lane with that day's groceries, when the pussy had sneered the pejorative at her.

Her thin, calico fur prickled, and a hiss escaped her.

The pussy hissed back and leaped.

Amber ducked and kicked, her opponent twisted mid-air, and the kick sent a shelf tumbling, victuals flying.

She crouched, leapt, slashed, twisted, tumbled, and kicked, Amber holding her own with the smaller, faster opponent, using her greater bone density and weight to advantage. She had fought Felly of similar stature many times, but her opponent had never encountered someone like her. She turned a slash into a throw and hurled the pussy into a coldcase. Glass shattered and bottles scattered. Leaping upon her, she threw triple punches to the ribcage, blocked a slash and dropped a slug to the pussy's jaw.

The other Felly went limp.

A primordial yowl deep in her throat, Amber turned slowly, her brow furrowed.

The line at the register had cleared, and the clerk quickly checked Amber's items, his ears flattened to his skull.

She paid and left, stepping past her unconscious opponent.

Outside, she secured her groceries to her back and dropped to all fours. Burning inside at the insult, she trotted toward home, her right shoulder stiff, the pain masked by adrenaline.

Not Amber's fault her Human father had landed on Felly in the wake of the Terran conquest, Felly the last of many worlds to succumb to the armies of the Terran Emperor Chingis Khan. Not Amber's fault that they'd held the Felly in virtual serfdom, fouling the air and water with their decrepit factories and cesspit mines, hazardous to work in but safer than rebelling. Not Amber's fault that they'd raped and pillaged in victory, leaving behind a traumatized populace, reminded of it for years by hulking halflings like herself.

Livid, she wished she had one of the Terran transpods—the one-person transport vehicles that could take a person across the galaxy in a heartbeat. With transpods, the Terran onslaught had been unstoppable.

Amber trotted toward her street, she and her mother occupying a one-room flat at the back of an eighty-room building. She turned the corner and froze.

A group stood around the building entrance. There she is!

Already, she felt them behind her. The banded thugs who carried out the orders of their Terran oppressors. On the upper arm was a silver band etched with a Terran hand, palm out, fingers together, a gesture they'd all been taught that meant stop.

Stop. You're under arrest.

Hands grabbed her from behind, and they all joined in to throw her to the ground, more roughly because she was half-Terran.

Amber's one regret was not seeing her mother before they hauled her away.

Half-breed!

Kathy Mongrel whirled on the Canny and thrust her face into his. You sad excuse for a schnauzer! She ducked his blow, which shook bibs on the library shelves. Go on, try that again, you clumsy oaf! She sidestepped a kick, her smaller form lithe and wiry. That the best you can do?! She weaved to the side and his ham-size fist caught a shelf, which exploded in splinters. You prehistoric throw-back! Microbrain packhound! And she dodged two blows in rapid succession.

Kathy had been researching microfusion assembly between classes when the Canny had blundered past her and sneered the pejorative at her. Half-Terran, she was smaller than nearly all her full Canny peers, their bulk and brawn no match for her light, fast frame.

Where's the wolf in you, you drooling, droop-tailed, limp-eared mutt!

The Canny dropped to all fours and leaped at her.

She rolled to one side, and he crashed into the shelf and fell unconscious, the whole case teetering slowly, and falling into the next, which teetered slowly then fell into the next …

Her face carefully composed, fuming inside at the insult, Kathy walked primly and calmly toward the stairs, descending to the ground floor with nary a look back, heading for the exit across the room. The hue and cry from above reached her.

Not Kathy's fault her Human father had visited in the aftermath of the Canny capitulation to the Terran Emperor Chingis Khan, their race having surrendered to its everlasting chagrin, lest the Terran conquerors ravage the Canny homeplanet as they had nearly every other planet in the Alpha Quadrant. Not Kathy's fault that their young Canny were conscripted into the Terran armies, their bulk and ferocity making them excellent front-line fodder for further Terran conquest. Not Kathy's fault her mother had fallen in love with a handsome Terran and months later had given birth to this hybrid girl long after the Terran had moved on.

Kathy strode resolutely toward the library door, livid and wishing she had one of the Terran transpods—the one-person transport vehicles that could take a person across the galaxy in a heartbeat. With transpods, the Terran onslaught had been unstoppable. She just wanted one to take her from her miserable existence.

A banded Canny stepped in front of the door, the metal band on his arm etched with a Terran hand, palm out. An Imperial affiliate.

The Traitor! She walked into him as though she didn't see him. Like most of her fellow Cannies, he easily outweighed her, and she bounced harmlessly off him.

Where ya going? Such a hurry. He had the laconic speech of unhurried authority.

She didn't need to look behind to know she had no escape. What's it to you, muscle-headed pin-brain?

A casual smile spread across his droopy jowls, canines glinting between drool-slathered lips.

Disgusting dog! she thought, knowing she looked just as repulsive to him, her thin fur barely concealing her skin.

Now just come quietly, miss poodle toy, and everything—

Don't call me that, bull-face!

I didn't start the name callin', but I'd be happy to finish it.

She stared at the barrel of his blaster. I didn't even see him draw it. What do you want?

Just come with me. The Imperials want to talk to you. He shoved the blaster back in its holster and turned.

Kathy followed dutifully, realizing he was just as disgusted at being their hound dog as she was at being summoned like some obedient pet.

Now, she really wished she had one of the Terran transpods.

Half-breed!

Theresa Appaloosa turned and smiled at the Equy trotting beside her, his bulk easily double hers. Don't you wish you looked as good, horseface! Her slim face and short snout were dainty compared to the cannon snout that he sported.

You even smell like them, he said, throwing his mane disdainfully over his shoulder.

Cute, Theresa thought, amused by his haughtiness. Stallion as big as you should be careful not to trip over yourself.

His ears focused forward, alerting her to his interest. Ever so subtly, he edged closer, the long, wide spaceport esplanade easily accommodating them and all the passers-by without need for crowding. Little filly like you might find yourself with more stallion than you can take at one time.

For all his dislike of her Terran half, he seemed pretty attracted to her Equy half. I guess I'll have to take that stallion more than once, won't I?

He whinnied, bucking a little.

She could see he was trotting with a slightly wider stance. She looked along the concourse ahead, saw the gate where her flight to the Horsehead Nebula wouldn't arrive for another two hours, saw the lavatory just before it, and turned to grin at him. What's your name, handsome? And she sidled into him to guide him the direction she wanted to go.

He was as long and full as she'd hoped, and her being so small meant a much tighter fit, and she felt his mounting pleasure, hers mounting with his, and he might have had a firehose as her bellows squeezed him dry, dribbles down her legs and puddles around her hooves.

You're under arrest!

Hot waves of guilt and shame washed over her. Theresa had never felt so embarrassed, gathering her clothes around her as they led her away, her hindquarters sopping wet and quivering still.

As the van door shut behind her, the gravcart rising to take her off to jail, Theresa cursed the Terran male who'd wooed her mother with such passion in the days before their planet had succumbed to the unrelenting hordes of the Terran Emperor Chingis Khan some twenty-eight years before. She cursed the Terran male whose passion his child clearly shared, this her fourth time having been apprehended in flagrante dilecto, albeit never in so public a place. She cursed the Terran half that Equy males so desired, their throbbing members finding her hot spot …

Theresa sighed, knowing she was doomed with the same passion as her father. Angry at herself, she wished she had one of the Terran transpods. With them, the Terrans had conquered the quadrant in six short years. As she swayed in the van with each of its turns, she thought dreamily how it must have been for her parents, one widowed in the hard-fought war, the other inflamed with the lust of the kill and the thrill of the victory.

The van pulled to a stop, and an old mare opened the doors. We'll take her from here, Charlie.

Theresa straightened her clothes once again and followed the female into the building. Where are you taking me?

The Imperials want to talk to you, but before they do, let's get you cleaned up.

Theresa followed, wondering what the Terrans wanted. They'll be like my father, she thought, having never met him, having seen just one Terran in her life, and that from a distance.

If only I had one of their transpods, Theresa thought, then I could just disappear.

2

Your father wanted you to have this.

The amulet instantly devoured Amber's attention, like a sprig of cat-nip. A gold ring of metal surrounded an almost-translucent, porcelain-like material, and in the center was what looked to be a crystal or some type of quartz. She turned it over, the same on both sides.

Forgotten were the constant looks from other Fellies, the jibes, the slights, the giggles, the smiles behind the paws, the knowing twitch of a whisker, the distant shout of Half-breed!

And sometimes not so distant.

Quick, put it away before somebody sees, her mother hissed. Her mother a Calico, she wore brown and black patches down either side of a white spine, and sported two black ears above fine white cheeks. The two of them had been left alone for a moment in a deserted hallway at the police station.

Shortly after her arrival, the politburo fat-cat had entered the corridor outside the tank. Amber might not have noticed her but for the salutes she got from the uniforms. She'd extended a single claw in Amber's direction, and then soon after they'd taken her to an interrogation room. You have a choice, Amber Calico, the fat-cat told her before leaving her by herself. Face charges of assault, get convicted, serve your sentence, and be turned over to the Imperials, or … The polit-bitch smiled, whiskers curling back from her nose. Go with them now.

Amber realized in a few short minutes that the Felly Government really didn't have a choice. They'd been told to remand her unto Imperial custody, no ifs and or buts. To save face, they'd protested she was facing charges of assault. Only if she chose to go could they legitimately say they hadn't caved obsequiously to Imperial demands, as other worlds and races had so subserviently done—the Cannies being the most obvious example.

The Canny homeworld had capitulated not long after the Terrans had come hurtling out of their system on the inner Perseus Arm, for which the Cannies were universally maligned.

Why? Amber had asked.

The fat polit-bitch looked startled. Why what?

Why do they want me? Why are they seeking my extradition?

The eyes dropped to the floor, then looked to the side. She shook her head finally and frowned, whiskers drooping. We don't know.

Now, standing in the corridor, the amulet tucked in her sash, her mother embracing her for what Amber was sure was the last time, she asked her mother the same question. What do they want with me?

I don't know, her mother said flatly.

You do know, Amber replied flatly, seeing the answer in her mother's eyes. Twenty-four years old and long since accepting of her mother's faults, she shrugged. And either you can't tell me here and now, or you don't think I'm ready to hear it. I'll trust your judgment on that.

Her mother glanced down the hall. I love you.

The politburo fat-cat looked their direction.

Can't tell me here, Amber decided. I love you too. They embraced.

Time to go, the fat-cat said, approaching, her ears low.

She kissed her mother on the check and followed the bureaucat to the roof.

There shimmered a transpod.

The egg-shaped, smooth-shelled transpod looked semi-translucent. Some trick of the eye or illusion of the mind caused the objects behind it to appear briefly. It was difficult to look at, because its shimmer—the rapid flickering of the object and the brief appearance of everything behind it—caused her to think it wasn't really there.

Just don't look closely at it, the fat-cat said. It'll drive you crazy. They tell me these things don't really exist right here. They occupy some space-time fold of their own, which is how they get around so fast.

The fact that one had been dispatched to retrieve her bewildered Amber.

The side door opened as they approached. Inside was one seat.

In you go.

The interior looked far more solid than the shimmering exterior. Amber didn't hesitate. She had no hope of a somewhat normal life on Felly. But how would her destination be any different, wherever she was going? Reviled by the Terrans for her half-Felly status or reviled by the Felly for her half-Terran status? What was the difference, really?

She climbed in, thought about buckling the restraints but decided not to, found the seat comfortable, as though designed for her frame.

The door closed, and through the translucent shell, streaks of light replaced the rooftop, and a shock hurled her against the ceiling.

Your father wanted you to have this.

The amulet instantly drew Kathy's attention, pulling on her mind like a luscious bone to chew on. A gold ring of metal encircled a porcelain-like material that was almost translucent, and the center looked to be a crystal or some type of quartz. It looked the same from both sides.

Forgotten were the stares from other Cannies, the low growls, the subtle slights, the snickers, the giggles, the smiles behind the paws, the knowing twitch of a moistened nostril, the distant bark of Half-breed!

Quick, put it away before somebody sees it, her mother growled.

Kathy tucked away the amulet.

The detective had escorted Kathy from the university library to a hover, which had whisked them to police headquarters. He'd shown her to a small, stuffy office in the basement, seeming rather proud of its Spartan look. I'm in missing persons, not a position likely to garner more than a bone to a dog, you know?

I'm a 'missing persons'?

One agency's junk is another agency's treasure.

Listen, you swayback mongrel—

Cool it, girl, I was giving you a compliment, if you'd keep your yap shut long enough to listen.

She'd opened her mouth to excoriate him, but something about the glint in his eye … A subvocal growl rippled along her jowl. Out with it, dick-face.

You just don't know when to cork it, eh? the detective said to Kathy. No matter. Supposedly, those Terrans like that in a grrl. Here's the wag: An all-sectors bulletin goes out for a thirty-year-old, half-Canny, half-Terran female fitting your description. Reason? Get this: 'Possible offspring from conquest of Canis Major.' Nothing more. Me, I am missing persons, see the bulletins all the time. This one smells bad all around, so I go sniffing further. Us bloodhounds equipped for it, right? What do I get for my curiosity? I nearly get sent to the doghouse, threatened with demotion to patrol! Patrol! An old dog like me, learning new tricks? Forget about it! And for what? A little sniffing? Must've stuck my snout in the wrong crotch is all I can figure. Whoever's got their nose to the ground for you isn't to be taken lightly, so careful with that yap of yours, all right? Now, I've commed your dam cause she's gotta be worried …

And he'd let her meet with her mother privately. Kathy looked deeply into her mother's eyes. Who was my father, really?

Biting her lip, her mother looked down and away.

All along, Kathy had hated this one obscure fact about her parentage, that her mother wouldn't or couldn't tell her about her father or even talk about him—always the bitten tongue, the blinked-back tears, the quivering jowl, the averted gaze.

Ma, look at me. Kathy wasn't about to let it happen again. You have to tell me. You have to.

They're a bit early, I'm afraid, the detective said, stepping between them and taking Kathy by the elbow.