Without Evidence – A Siamet Tale

‘Finish your drink, my Saimet friend,’ the barman said. ‘It’s curfew time.’

Teals downed the last of his drink with a flick of his furry head, slamming the glass onto the bench. ‘I hear you. Time I got to work.’
‘Fight well, and may you survive to the dawn,’ the barman said with a nod.

The barman was a stocky, grey-skinned creature; one of the billions of natives of Dernolet. The planet had been claimed by the Drac Empire centuries ago, but the native Dernolet had never stopped their resistance.

While they were of short stature, only around five foot tall, they had densely muscled bodies with thickened skin, and fought and died bravely against the superior military might of the Drac. The reptilian Drac were larger and stronger individually, and had been invading planets to expand their Empire for as long as any could remember. They were brutal veteran soldiers, and had efficiently smashed their way through the planet’s defences.

However, Dernolet had not become a safe planet for the Drac. The strength of the people was in subterfuge and covert dealings. The underground resistance was alive and well, despite the Drac’s most aggressive search and destroy tactics. As a consequence, martial law had never been lifted, and the current population of Dernolet had been born into the never-ending struggle.

A visitor to Dernolet, Teals dealt in information. He was a Saimet, a lightly built felinoid species widely considered as mercenaries without ethics. He and his kind considered the stereotyping to be unfair, if they cared at all. He wistfully looked at his empty glass and thought about his night’s activities. While on planet he was infiltrating the local resistance to sell them out to the Drac, and then gaining Drac information in return to sell to the resistance. He was doing well, with many Dernolet considering him an ally. ‘Ethics schmethics, I’ll take the money,’ he thought with a grin that showed his sharp fangs.

He stood and rubbed his face. His fur was the typical Siamet gold, but with a dirt-red shade and white running from his chin down his chest. While on Dernolet he had taken to wearing a number of layers of the deep grey clothes the locals favoured to help him blend in, both with the crowd and the smog-shrouded cityscape. They also allowed him to carry and conceal many locally made items from snooping eyes.

‘See you tomorrow, Vron,’ he said, turning to the door as it burst open. Three solidly built aliens ducked their heads to come inside, then straightened to their full six and a half foot height. ‘Katarr warriors,’ Teals hissed, his ears flattening to his head, looking up to another of the universe’s cat-formed aliens.

‘Saimet. Are you the one called Teals?’ the centre Katarr asked, blocking the doorway while the other two fanned out from him. The speaker was a pure golden colour, tallest of the three, and he radiated strength and confidence. The other two were of blended colours; one a light orange with yellow mottling, and the other mainly white with small patches of grey.

‘Honoured warriors,’ Teals said, ‘who am I speaking to?’ He noted the agitated twitching of their tails and flattened ears. ‘This is a situation that’s not going to end well,’ he thought, ‘they’re hunting.’ The tail of a Katarr was able to grab and hold, or strike with damaging force, while his own was not. Vron had ducked away, aware of the imminent trouble, and Teals had no friends here to call on.

The golden Katarr answered him. ‘I am Gradrr, and my Sesslaans are Chesll,’ he said pointing to the mainly orange Katarr, ‘and Griik,’ pointing to the remaining Katarr of mainly white colour.
‘What do you want of Teals? I’ll pass on the message when I see him next ,’ Teals said, casually sitting again, placing one hand in a pocket, and the other idly playing with his empty glass.
‘For the murder of our Sesslaan, we will pass judgement,’ Gradrr said.
‘How do you know it was him?’ Teals was confused. He had not killed a Katarr on Dernolet. Everyone knew how the remaining family went on a blood hunt for revenge, so it was rarely worth it.

Chesll and Griik had begun moving in, scenting the air. Teals tapped the bar with his cup, slipping his other hand from his pocket to the bar stool.
‘The evidence from the scene points to Teals. There are a number of you Saimets in this city, but he is the one implicated.’

Chesll turned and nodded to Gradrr.
‘The murder of a Katarr is not taken lightly – Teals!’ Gradrr finished with a roar, and all three of the Katarr launched for him.

Teals had expected them to attack, but it seemed to him that Chesll had been working on a scent signature to confirm his identity. Damning evidence to a felinoid species, which made the evening all the more confusing.

As Teals heard his identity revealed, he waited no longer, but pushed up from his seat, flicked himself backwards and landed with his hands on the bar and continued his flip backwards behind the bar.

When the detonation-inhibitor in his pocket moved away from the explosive he had planted beneath his bar stool, the timer activated with a half second delay, igniting as he fell behind the bar and the three Katarr were in mid launch.

‘They just don’t think things through,’ he thought, as shards of wood clattered down to the floor.

Part 2

Constructive criticism welcome. © 2008 Damian Herde

Without Evidence – A Siamet Tale

Damian

Toowoomba, Australia

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Artist's Description

A story set in Gayla Drummond ’s science fiction universe.

The Saimet, Katarr and Drac aliens were created by Gayla.

I’ve decided to stick up for the poor Saimet in this story. Always second class cats to the Katarr, and given no respect. Well, some of it is deserved ;)

Part 1
Part 2

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