Chapter Sixty-Three (Dreams)

The eVR VI added sparks to the motion as Dreams slowly finished sharpening her bladearms to one of her favorite little songs. She sat in her favorite spot in her favorite eVR simulation, Mr. Rings curled up and sleeping in his bole, the rain dripping around her. She was almost finished, just one more repetition of the ancient song.

Are you ready, kids? I can't hear you! Oooooh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea? she sang softly to herself as she slowly scraped the bladearms against each other in a shower of hard-light sparks. She closed her eyes, feeling the edges.

Sharp enough, hard enough, to slice through duralloy or enosteel like paper, dangerous enough to leave scoring marks on warsteel.

Dreams opened her eyes as she finished, sparks floating around her.

She reached up, adjusting her beret, and summoned a reflective holo-image of herself. He beret was just at the right angle, her denim vest covered in patches of the strange places she'd visited on Terra, a coat over her abdomen, chrome studded black leather gloves on her grasping hands. He kept her donorcycle-chain on her belt, next to the vote-switch-blade, with her communicator and a small hand weapon. She shifted the vest a little, admiring the patch she had bought at the Tomb of Rushmore, where the giant four-headed tyrant of ancient America had been imprisoned in stone for all time, only his heads thrust out of the solid rock of the mountain.

Behind her Rack and Pinion began to move, dropping the eVR construct that made them appear as gentle Pacific Northwest Sasquatch. Dreams had managed to smuggle in heavier weapon packs than they had initially shown up with after the lawyers of Jackson, Johnson, and Johnston had filed and gotten approval for the paperwork, making it perfectly legal for the two warborgs to walk around with battle-screens and hypervelocity autocannons.

Jack Johnston, esq., had informed Dreams that the layered VI system of the Unified Legal Council had just taken to stamping Terran lawsuits with approved rather than spending millions of credits worth the cycles to completely go over every last little bit.

From what John Jackson, esq., had informed her, the layered VI had begun taking its pique at the massive Terran filings out on the Unified Council's attempts at legal paperwork by denying them outright and kicking them back for missing forms, references, proper citations, and improper precedence listing.

It made Dreams giggle a little bit that the Unified Justice Council had thought they could go toe to toe with the Terran legal institutions like Jackson, Johnson, and Johnston and come out unbloodied. There were persistent rumors even predating the Terran Diaspora that most lawyers had a large amount of DNA from something called a shark woven into their genetic helixes.

Dreams had seen sharks, once, off the shores of Old Hawai'i. She had admired their sleek forms, their lethalness, their dedication to consuming anything they wished in an ocean teaming with hostile and combative lives.

"Are you gentlemen ready?" Dreams asked her escorts.

"Yes, ma'am," the both replied at once. She had given them standing orders not to speak across anything but datalinks, to ignore anyone who attempted to converse with them. She also ordered them to leave up their firewalls and shields as if they were entering a heavy EW zone.

"Let us do some tourism," Dreams said, and carefully made her way to the door. She left the eVR up so Mr. Rings could exercise and find the treats she had hidden around the room.

Both of the warborgs were always amused by Dreams overwhelming desire to see new places and experience the culture. She had taken them to many exotic locations over the decades they had been her personal guide. She had a soft spot for Terra and TerraSol culture, which amused the two warborgs. They had met more than a few Mantids over the decades and one thing they had all shared was a love, almost an obsession, with human culture.

Dreams had explained it: The majority of races, by the time they even achieved nuclear power generation mastery, were a single overarching culture with little to no diversity, where Terra had a dizzying blend of cultures that were all distinct yet had common threads throughout, that all blended into one fractious and endlessly kaleidoscopic whole.

On the worlds they had visited, guarding Dreams, they had seen how correct she was.

The hoverdisc was waiting. She had invited her fellow Mantids, but they had all chosen to remain in the Unified Ambassadorial Council building. Words Spoken We Fear had offered to go with her, but she'd reminded him that he was to speak to the Admiral in charge of the fleet.

As they exited the embassy more warborgs joined her. Terran Confederacy Marines, a diplomatic detachment, three to front and back and four to the left and right. Rack and Pinion were inside the square.

The day was bright, but not too bright, UV, IR, and visible light filters in the sky keeping the sunlight down to tolerable to all the races. While to Dreams it seemed quite bright both of her escorts felt it was slightly dim. Dreams noted how many guards she had, just beyond the mandatory twenty-meter diplomatic space she was insisting upon.

She was glad she did not have a human mouth, she would have sneered visibly at the amount of 'guards' she could see that she knew were try to offset the massive warborgs around her. The Unified Civilized Races could throw anything they wanted at those warborgs without any effect.

Warsteel could handle the hellfire of atomic weaponry without even softening.

The hoverdisc purred, the outside opaque to the common visual and recording spectrums from the outside but perfectly clear from the inside. She had a few datascreen up. Not many, leaning forward against an inclining cushion. She had refused the offer of the limousines the rest of the diplomats used. Her hoverdisc was custom made from Area51Saucers, stuffed to the gills with all kinds of special order features and full eVR if she wished it.

She even had a small play area for Mr. Rings if the shy little octopod had wanted to come along or had not wanted left alone.

Traffic was rerouted by the Unified Law Enforcement Council, giving her clear lanes. She would have preferred to have just gone with a few escorts to go shopping and see the sights but the reality of the "Grand Civilized Species" had made her rethink her plans.

On TerraSol she had been surrounded by gleeful predators in their natural environment following ancient rituals that not ever her race glassing parts of the planet had wiped out. In other human societies she had still been surrounded by predators playing with entire worlds or solar systems. The humans saw the entire universe as a prey filled playground full of endless resources, having grown to sapience on a planet that was low resources and high conflict.

Here, every species she could see would make her drool if she had less self-control. Rather than the constant 'come-chase-fun-excitement-eat-dance' of the Terran and Treana'd worlds and the other worlds that were part of the Terran Confederacy, there was instead something different.

Almost a plea to be eaten.

Just seeing the various Old Races made her drool. Their appearance and the slight taste of their minds activating her saliva and digestive juices.

She knew why.

They had been genetically altered, millions of years ago.

By her people.

For food.

After meeting the humans, the races the humans had met, seeing the humans Uplift so many of their native creatures, she had forgotten that other intelligent races had just been altered to be nothing more than an ambulatory sandwich. She knew it wasn't their fault, but a small part of her blamed them.

The humans had evolved on a planet that had undergone multiple extinction events. During the last one (If you didn't count the Great Glassing) they had been little more than lemurs. They had evolved, under constant threat, and had risen to being a space-faring race. The sentient races that had arisen near them had all managed the same thing. Some of them even evolving on planets that had been devastated by the Precursor War. Dreams had noticed a lot of the sapients discovered by the Terrans were much more like the Terrans. While not as aggressive or physically tough or imaginative or, well alive as the Terrans, they had still evolved on a world on their own.

The planet Dreams was currently on, drifting down a road inside her hoverdisc, had been terraformed almost 110 million years ago, and that the Lanaktallan had built a civilization on it once Dreams people had left had left a mark on them.

Dreams was sure that the Lanktallan of this planet were almost virtually identical to the ones her people had feasted on.

At least the Terran medical ship in orbit, the Gentle Hands had updated her psychic implants, enabling Dreams to tune out the Grand Civilized Species.

That made shopping tolerable as she was stared out by wide eyed species who had never seen a giant mantis that delicately moved through the shop, examining jewelry and other luxuries. It made exploring the tourist sections tolerable as she drifted through the paths and trails to see gardens. She took pics and 'peggies' of the scenery, a few of the sculptures, and a few xenospecies.

Sadly, most of it was boring. Safe, created and fashioned and approved to be viewed without feeling emotion or having any kind of strong feelings or slight unpleasant feelings so much as tickle the viewer. There was nothing to 'tickle her tendrils' or really bring her senses to more than just light curiosity.

One thing that did catch her notice was a small holomarker on a desk. Dreams was in the shop to purchase a few small hand-crafted ceramic tchotskies when she saw the little holomarkers.

Tuku'unga Custom Ceramics

She took the card, sliding it into the pocket of her denim vest, purchased the ceramics and left. Once she was in her hoverdisc she took out the card and ran the number. The hoverdisc was moving along, back to the diplomatic embassy.

The number connected to a personal store, where ceramics were being sold. Dreams admired the beautiful workmanship of the pieces, the attention to detail, the subtle flaws that even a master's work possessed. She ran template comparisons to see if the items had been run off a fabricator. She found some that were close, but her educated compound eyes could tell that all of the items were indeed hand crafted with skill and tools.

She tapped the rune for contacting the crafter.

A Shavashan female answered and Dreams noticed that she had drying ceramics on her neck.

"Tuku'unga Custom Ceramics," the Shavashan female said. She frowned. "I am not accustomed to privacy screened calls and I do not take anonymous orders. Please show yourself."

Dreams triggered her camera, allowing her image to appear.

The Shavashan's eyes opened wide. "I've seen you! On the TriVid!" the saurian exclaimed.

Dreams flashed a run of assent. "I am Dreams of Something More, the Terran Confederacy diplomat to your government," Dreams said.

The Shavashan nodded, swallowing. "Why... why would call me?" she asked.

Dreams tapped two icons, sending an image to the craftsbeing. "Can you create something like this for me? Color matched and by construction?"

The Shavashan nodded again, swallowing as she did so. "Of course, honorable one, but surely you can just have it fabricated."

Flashing the rune for a negative Dreams shook her head. "Fabrication units smooth it, make it flawless, just like the touch the spirit of a craftsbeing has. Can you do it?"

Still nodding, the Shavashan looked over the file. "I can. How soon do you want it?"

Dreams shrugged. "When it is done, craftsbeing. I do not rush true workmanship."

The Shavashan nodded, flashing a rune expressing pleasure.

"Here is a deposit. Please send me pictures of your work as it progresses," Dreams said. Her account had plenty of the local currency in it. She had compared the price of a reasonably close sized and complexity piece to what she wanted, doubled it, then doubled that.

"Lady Ambassador, surely I can't," the Shavashan protested upon seeing the money transferred.

"I can, and if you are willing to craft it for me, I will pay the remaining amount. I will have some bark samples and moss samples sent to you this evening for your reference," Dreams said.

"As you wish, Lady Ambassador," the Shavashan said. "Thank you for your patronage."

"Thank you for your dedication and skill," Dreams replied, then cut the feed.

She sat, humming to herself, quite happy with her purchase. The day had not been a total loss. She had found a few hats she was sure would look perfect on her head, along with a few artistic torso garments and an abdomen wrap or two.

She floated all the way to her quarters, climbing down off the hoverdisc when necessary, then walked the remainder of the way to her quarters, humming and smiling to herself. She tapped open the door and walked in.

"Mr. Rings, guess what Mommy bought..." she stopped as Rack and Pinion both activated their shoulder mounted cannons.

Mr. Rings was sitting on top of dead Lanaktallan, pushing its tentacle into a hole it had chewed in the side of the creature's abdomen. As Dreams watched, the little arboreal octopi pulled out a hunk of muscle tissue and shoved it into its mouth.

Dreams noticed that the rings around Mr. Rings eyes were bright blue where the rings on his tentacles were duller in color. The Lanaktallan was laying near a disruptor pistol, dried foam around its face. It was obvious to Dreams that the Lanaktallan had been moving toward Dreams's sleeping quarters when Mr. Rings had dropped from the tree branches and onto the Lanaktallan's back and killed it.

Dreams couldn't help it. She started giggling. Rack and Pinion both made grinding noises of amusement as Mr. Rings looked at them with wide innocent eyes and shoved another chunk of tissue in his mouth.

"Mr. Rings! Naughty!" Dreams giggled.

Mr. Rings grabbed one more hunk of flesh and climbed up into the top branches of the trees.

Rack and Pinion called down that there was a dead intruder in the Ambassador's chambers.

As soon as everyone turned around, Mr. Rings dropped down and grabbed another piece, climbing out of reach when Dreams chastised him.

Dreams just giggled as she sat there and watched the medical services haul away the dead Lanaktallan.

Mr. Rings stayed hiding in his bole, chewing on a piece of liver he had absconded with while Mommy was talking to the big tasty people.