Chapter 7
A Question of Sentience
One of the ruffians made a move, darting in and thrusting his knife towards Grankt. The saurian twisted, letting the point lodge in his armor. His fist lashed out and caught his attacker in the face. Blood clouded the water around his face and the dagger dropped slowly to the rock below. Grankt's other hand held his scather at the ready, keeping the other two ruffians at bay. One moved and our bodyguard
thrust
the blade towards him. Grankt didn't make contact, but the attacker backed off.
The wounded rake seemed to recover and the three widened their circle, making it impossible for Grankt to protect us from all of them. As they circled us, I noticed two things; a couple of Xylons were watching from entryways without taking any action on their own, and my fingers were tingling. When I looked, my nails were visibly growing, reaching a length of three centimeters and quite a bit of thickness.
[Crystal?]
[PREPARING FOR DEFENSIVE ACTIONS.]
[I don't know much about fighting.]
[SHALL I TAKE CONTROL?]
[If you know what to do, yes.]
The sensation of switching control was still unnerving. I was once again acting without deciding. I pushed out suddenly with hands extended. My newly lengthened claws pierced the ruffian behind me in his belly. He didn't react at all, clearly surprised by my actions. Blood poured into the water as I pulled back. I turned around to see that Grankt had the scather through the neck of one attacker and had thrown something at the second. The still living one had a star-shaped piece of duraplast in his wrist and his dagger was sinking to the ground. I finished a full spin to see the one I had stabbed with my claws (?) fleeing.
Brusjin looked at me with raised eyebrows while Grankt let the disabled attacker flee as he cleaned and sheathed his blade. Crystal released and I was back in control. Two Xylons swam towards us. They had harnesses and were holding long, thin swords of some kind. There was some kind of insignia on the harnesses. My assumption that they were police of some kind was confirmed in a matter of seconds.
"Hands above your head; Capstan security."
Those weapons were incredibly long and had no trouble passing through the water. Brusjin and I raised our hands, Grankt following suit a couple of seconds later. Oddly enough, they didn't make any attempt to disarm Grankt.
"Who's in charge here?" He looked at Brusjin and Grankt, treating me, not like I wasn't there, but like I was unimportant.
"That would be me, officer. This youth, and two of his friends, accosted us and challenged my right to my wife."
"So, this was an ownership defense. I see your slave isn't marked. While the law doesn't require it, you'll likely have to face continuing challenges until you do."
On instinct, developed from years of reading body language in negotiations, I kept silent. There was something we weren't understanding here. Yes, we knew that all females on Xylon were slaves, but I'd never encountered a slave society that simply ignored slaves as thoroughly as they did. Not only that, but every time I've spoken, there were looks of shock and disbelief. What in the world was going on here?
"I understand, officer. I'll give marking her serious consideration," Brusjin replied.
"Very well. Tell me; is it normal for slaves to defend their possession on your world?"
Brusjin looked confused for a moment and then answered with, "No, but it's not unheard of either."
It seems my husband had decided to not risk calling any more attention to ourselves. In essence, he told the truth while not answering the question they had asked. It was clear that while Xylon was advanced technologically (compared to most applicant worlds), it wasn't socially advanced. I found it appalling that ownership of anything could be subject to open, armed challenge, let alone the status of a sentient being. With the situation surprisingly resolved, we headed for the nearest inn, such as it was. Again, the person at the counter ignored me.
"Good day, sir. Will you be wanting a water or air room today?"
"An air room if we could."
"Very good. Are you the researchers from the Federation?"
"Yes we are."
"Your room costs have been covered by the Progressive society. I'll have Jiliti show you to your room."
"Wait, what's the Progressive society?"
"They're the ones who are paying for your research. The society is dedicated to seeing Xylon leave the restrictive mores of the past behind. Personally, I think they're a bit wacko, but they do pay well."
"I don't understand. No one sponsored our trip. We only decided a few days ago to come to Xylon. We can't be the researchers you're expecting."
"I'm sorry. We don't see many aliens, so I just assumed you were them. I'm sorry about the confusion. I'm afraid, however, that I'll need 27 hevits per day."
"That's fine. I just don't want to steal someone's stay."
Brusjin paid the man and another, younger man, led us through a vertical shaft and we swam to the fourth floor. Our room had an airlock and we entered. Inside, we were able to remove our breathers.
"Brusjin, what's going on with this world? I've never seen a society that so thoroughly ignores its slave population. Also, Crystal says that wife and slave translate to the same word."
"The same word? That's very strange. There's something we're not understanding; some basic assumption or piece of knowledge. First, we need to mark you. Our mission can't progress if every gang of youths will be challenging my
ownership
of you."
"I'm not thrilled with that thought, and I'm getting extremely hungry. I think Crystal's modifications took a bit out of me."
[THAT IS CORRECT. ENERGY RESERVES MUST BE RESTORED SOON. ALSO, I CAN ADD AND REMOVE MARKS WITH EASE.]
"That's nice to know." At Brusjin's confused look, I explained, "Crystal says that It can add and remove marks at will. I suspect it's the same process that armed me in a matter of seconds. What does this mark look like?"
Brusjin pulled out his data pad and showed me. It wasn't very obtrusive, though it was quite visible. The examples showed that they were individualized to some extent. Brusjin and I made some adjustments and created our own. I felt a tickle on my face and the mark faded into view. At least we didn't have to repeat our welcome to the city.
We called room service and I was able to satiate my growing hunger. If Crystal was going to be doing these body modifications often, I was going to have to start carrying some kind of high energy snacks. I also wondered just how much my body could be changed by It. That was something to be pursued when we had more free time. There was a mystery that needed to be solved.
According to what little information there was on Xylon, the natives never developed towards nocturnalism or durinialism due to their initial evolution in the ocean depths. Their own science theorized that they took on the amphibian adaptation during a hot age when the seas shrank to a mere 75% of the surface of the planet. Always able to retreat beneath the waves, the need for a strong daylight or nighttime physiology never took. It was these amphibious ancestors that eventually evolved into the modern Xylon race.
What all this meant was that most Xylon public facilities or shops were open 27 hours a day. We decided to start our explorations in their public library system. Like most species in an information age, their libraries were heavily computerized. Our data pads, as well as Crystal itself, should have no trouble interfacing with their system (the multi-cultural nature of the Federation made interface design a high priority).
The public library was in the center of the city. Unlike most structures, it was entirely air filled (computers and other electronics was one of the hardest technologies for aquatic species to develop). It was as we were entering that we encountered our mystery yet again.
"I'm sorry sir, slaves aren't allowed in the library." The man at the front desk stopped us before we had gotten very far.
"Susan goes with me everywhere. She's invaluable to my research abilities," Brusjin replied.
The clerk's look was one of utter confusion and incredulousness. For a moment I thought that the translation hardware had broken down. His reply wasn't much more understandable.
"Sir, I realize that at home her attendance may well assist your ability to concentrate, but that sort of activity isn't allowed on the premises. Slaves frequently damage the delicate equipment found in the library."
I couldn't hold back any longer. "Now see here! When it comes to data search and organization, it's a case of Brusjin assisting me, not the other way around. As for your delicate equipment, I've been dealing successfully with computers since before your were born. I will not..."
I stopped mid-sentence as I took in the loom of horror on the clerk's face. I wondered if I'd violated some law or societal norm. He took a few seconds to find his voice.
"She...talked!" he stammered.