Kummer/ Burnt Bridges
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
A lithe shadow darted between ruined buildings that peppered the landscape of Mercy Island. Moving between the gloom, a piece of the shadow split itself off from the others, then scaled to what had been a ledge at one time. There, the shadow resolved itself to a human-wolf hybrid - an arctic wolf, specifically. It was the particular breed more often found in the far northern wilds of Canada, not necessarily among the Rogue Isles. The man-wolf sniffed the air, then sighed heavily, feeling almost - but not quite - safe.
Kummer, as the observers at the Company called him, rubbed a sore shoulder. The hyenas had worked him over again the night before. It varied, sometimes it was beatings, other times worse. Last night was worse. The man-wolf closed his eyes while the horrible images flooded back to his mind. Two hyenas jumping him to pin him down or against the wall, the hyena matriarch lunging for Kummer, forcing herself upon him.
He squeezed his eyes shut against a small welling of tears. Slowly, silently, he beat an angry fist against rough stone.
“Why?” he croaked out in a hoarse whisper, “why? I no do bad!”
Hearing his own broken sentence structure tore him up inside even more. He slowly tore at the ruined building with a clawed hand while the reality of the moment and his current situation threatened to drown him.
Fehral, the little leopard-woman who had been relatively nice to him, told him to fight back. Kummer had. His body always felt so uncoordinated, so … wrong. It was like he had been assembled out of loose spare parts, none of which belonged together. Twice now it's been more pronounced than others. Once his claws - he thought almost extended then retracted - but later they didn’t. Another time, he swore he heard voices, but it turned out to only be some rats nearby. Still, the anxiety only made his discomfort more glaring in his mind.
Taking a long, slow breath the man-wolf hybrid let it out slowly, his breath condensing in front of him in the slight chill of the air. Kummer took some small comfort in that he fought back the hardest he ever did this time. One hyena, he clawed firmly on the snout. Another hyena, he blackened its eye. Despite that, the hyenas still very nearly molested him anyway, if it had not been for a female human-lioness - lioness alpha, he reminded himself - that can come along at the right moment to put a stop to it. Then the lioness beat the hell out of the hyenas for a good long few minutes.
When she had finished, Kummer had thanked her. At least, he tried to through a busted lip. He wasn’t sure if she had smiled in reply, he thinks she might have. Everything hurt too much from what the hyenas had done and there were medical people all around.
Fortunately, however, Kummer kept control of his rational mind that time. That shred of control prevented him losing his grip on whatever power that was which he used to nearly kill the hyenas before. That same power that he nearly killed Grigaere with when Kummer was first released into the cages.
Kummer sniffed, rubbed his snout, then watched the broken street below. He had been planning this for days, ever since the third beating, ever since he got some control over his new powers. His first memory of being a … creature … was of the man called Grigaere. At the time, the soothing words, the caresses, they had felt so good, but had sent Kummer into a wild panic. He didn’t like where his mind went, the thoughts he had that were so familiar, yet so alien. Then, there was the burst of power he couldn’t control. Suddenly, Grigaere lay half-dead on the floor, and the beatings and molestations started. Kummer understood more now about where he was and what was going on, and really, it was so much more horrifying than any nightmare he ever had.
Kummer had no friends, no allies, no nothing. He saw Grigaere had a pack of wolves - too obviously they were a family. They banded together for protection against this company that now owned them as slaves. The lions, who apparently were turning ‘rescue Kummer’ into a hobby, had their lion pride. The hyenas - who Kummer wished would die in a fire - were a pack or family of sorts. Fehral had some relationship or bond or something rather personal with that Killing Dance guy. Even that crass jerk, Iceberia had that self-absorbed red head, Brigid’s Verse. Kummer? He was alone.
However Kinba Kushi had taken him out that once on a mission, and he was rather nice. Although, Kummer had watched later while Kinba Kushi was speaking with one of the scientists post-mission while the scientist took copious notes. The man-wolf remembered his dim memories of his all too brief stint at residency before he volunteered with Doctors Without Borders. Kummer was being evaluated. He shuddered to think what the price of failure of that test was.
Kummer wanted to go home. He was not stupid, he knew that would take time. For that to even be a possibility, he needed allies - he didn’t dare ever to hope for a friend, and a ‘family’ as the lions or Grigaere and his wolves had? Best wish for the moon, as it would be easier to have. No matter, a friend or ‘family’ would probably be dangerous or even lethal.
Still, allies would be helpful. The start of that would be to make amends with Grigaere. Kummer had not meant to hurt Grigaere. Those feelings the man caused … Kummer didn’t know what to do with them, and they scared him deeply. The man-wolf shook his head. That didn’t matter. He still needed to apologize. Make at least something right, if anything ever could be right in this place.
The man-wolf once again watched the road. He had overheard that his ‘free time’ overlapped with Grigaere’s. If Grigaere had any of his wolves with him, Kummer knew in the pit of his stomach, he might get a beating far worse from them than he ever had from the hyenas. So be it. As long as he got out his apology, it was worth the beating. Kummer needed to apologize. He needed to express that simple emotion to in some small way to say: ‘Beneath this fur, I am still me.’
He merely needed, just for one tiny moment, to no longer feel so soul-wrenching alone.
"You are quite a ways from the well-traveled areas of this island, little wolf," a faintly amused voice commented softly. The vaguely pleasant tone reminded Kummer of soldiers and career police officers he had known in his former life, who adopted a nearly-permanent mask to shield their true state of mind from a potential problem. Grigaere tilted his wide-brimmed hat forward to shadow his face better against the harsh setting sun, leaning against the sheared-off light pole on the street below Kummer as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Practice is fine for private spaces, but if you wish to serve your advertising allotment, one would think a slightly more populous area should earn more credit."
Kummer jumped as if struck by a cattle prod. Fur askew around his gray and dark blue leather bodysuit, he closed his eyes and composed himself with a deep breath. He jumped down from his perch, making sure to keep a respectful distance between himself and the stylish man leaning against the pole. The man-wolf sat in a crouch, curling his frazzled white-furred tail around him.
“No a’vertise,” Kummer replied carefully. He hesitated, searching for a less than ominous means to say the next few words. Failing miserably, he stuck with his first choice, “Kummer heard you free-time, when Kummer did. Hope find. Really hope … “ his words trailed off with noticeable edge of anxiety and determination.
Just shut up and say it already, Kummer thought angrily.
“Kummer … sorry,” the man-wolf replied, then his words rolled out, nearly a jumbled mess compared to what he had rehearsed to many times in his head. “Just so very, very sorry hurt Grigaere. Know won’t stop beatings … and … other things … but Kummer want say so very sorry. Just want make something right … cause almost all go so wrong.”
Saying what he’d been hoping to say sucked the energy right from Kummer. He withered slightly, shoulders slumping. He didn’t expect Grigaere to actually hurt him - he had overheard Grigaere never does that - but lately it paid to be prepared for the unexpected.
Grigaere quietly watched the young hybrid a moment, then pulled himself away from his lean-to. Touching a hand to the brim of his hat, he inclined at the waist with a mild flourish.
“Your apology is most well accepted, little one,” the tall man said before standing upright and leaning against the light pole. “It is so refreshing that there are still some with manners and courage to admit when they were at fault. Thank you for that in return.”
A small half-smile crossed Kummer’s muzzle. He tilted his head towards Grigaere in a weak attempt to mimic the bow. “You welcome,” he said. Getting to his feet, Kummer fidgeted a bit then shrugged. “Bye, have good a’vertisement,” he said in a small voice before turning to leave.
“Oh, little wolf, a moment?” Grigaere said, quickly interrupting Kummer’s attempt to depart.
Kummer stopped, turned around, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. He thought the apology would be it, then he would leave. He couldn’t fathom what the tall man wanted.
Maybe he needs my help with something, he thought. At least that dumb tiger won’t be around to constantly hit me in the back of the head and be so proud of finding a damn chest in the middle of an empty cavern.
The wolf hybrid sat back down in a crouch, facing Grigaere politely. “Kummer wait. What do?” he asked.
Grigaere considered the hybrid again, quickly translating the broken speech pattern. “You mentioned something about a ‘beating’ and ‘other things’?” the tall man’s eyes watched the hybrid with a curious stare, “what precisely did you mean?”
Kummer fidgeted slightly. “N.. no get,” he said in a low voice.
Grigaere raised an eyebrow. “I see you’ve spent time with the Fehral. So have I. So ‘no get’ precisely does not. So, lets try this once more. Young one, has something happened?”
The Alpha half-shrugged reluctantly. This was not going at all the way he had envisioned. “Kummer problem, not Grigaere problem,” Kummer said at last, “Kummer make enough problem for Grigaere. No make more.”
Grigaere stood upright and clasp his hands behind his back, looking for all the world like a stereotypical German schoolmaster from a boy’s school - if said boy’s school had been represented in a Japanese anime for American audiences.
“No,” the tall man replied firmly but with a kind undertone. Grigaere knew pain, he knew quite a lot about pain in all its many wild and varied forms. This young man had seen a rather intense share of it, and it was a pain that piqued the tall man’s curiosity due to the dark taint he felt lingered around it.
Kummer tilted his wolfen head slightly then cocked one ear. “N.. no?” he echoed, rightfully confused.
"I am a Delta," Grigaere told him patiently. "More to the point: I am the Fiddler. All Alphas at my assigned facility are my charges, and so my business. You said there were beatings, I believe, and 'other things'; tell me. All of it. Plainly, as you can. I will order it, if that helps you to comply."
Kummer wrung his gloved hands nervously. “Kummer … I …” he stammered slowly, obviously embarrassed, “... yes. Get beatings. Beat daily … cause hurt you. When not beat, they try …” the Alpha’s shoulders shook with the effort, as if every word was being ripped from his soul. A tear rolled down his muzzle and his voice grew thick with the effort to bottle up the emotion. “try … have,” he took a long deep breath, before the words rolled out of him almost at once, “try force Kummer have sex. When no work … more beat! Break bones at times.”
The Alpha stared at the ground, a tear of rage chased the first along his cheek. He balled his gloved clawed hands into fists. They glowed just slightly with a mild build up of kinetic energy. “Kummer claw, Kummer fight back. Fehral say fight more. Kummer fight more. Still get beat. Beat bad.” The Alpha’s fists shuddered slightly. “No. one. care! Go on mission. Stupid tiger beat Kummer in head, till leave claw mark!” He looked up at Grigaere, the wolf’s eyes so filled with pain and rage they seemed to overflow. “Delta both there! No stop! No care! No one care. Kummer die, no. one. care.”
Shaking, Kummer sank to his knees and slowly punched the ground. The kinetic energy cracked the pavement. Not satisfied, he did it again, then again.
After a short mutter in another language, rising in volume with every half-syllable, Grigaere abruptly barked, "Kummer! Rest!" At the same moment as the vibrating command, he threw a bolt of brownish energy into the white-furred Alpha, rocking him back on his tailbone with the sheer force of liquid endorphins slapping into every nerve.
Grigaere eyed the young man sternly, waiting to see whether the fit was properly ended.
The very moment the energy slammed into the Alpha, his eyes went solid black. A chill erupted around his body accompanied with faint tendrils of black smoke. Instantly he rolled over, his face a mask of tortured confusion. One moment, an unmistakable howl was immediately followed by the snarl … of a panther. Kummer’s battling instincts twitched as if something collided, and in the next second he crouched in a relaxed pose, silent and waiting. In the third second, the young hybrid’s eyes returned to their normal wary state while the odd black smoke vaporized away as if never there.
“Yes, Grigaere,” the young wolf said in a soft, submissive voice. He looked up at the Delta, eyes wide, almost innocent.
Thoughtfully, almost breathlessly, Grigaere murmured to himself, "Those magnificent idiots!" A moment later, startled, he added, "And they expected to quite casually give you to me."
He had half a mind to go launch a tirade in a certain crimson-coated Employee's ear, but that would have to wait for further deliberation.
"Little Alpha, tell Grigaere what you are."
In perfect tones, reciting from rote, Kummer replied, “I Alpha 150a, designation: ‘Kummer’. Purposed to scout, assassinate, or infiltrate for tactical recon. Species con.. const.. construct: Canis Lupis Panthera.” The hybrid let out a slow sigh at the end, looking curious as to what Grigaere would ask next.
"And do you comprehend the meaning of all that?"
Kummer’s expression changed for the briefest moment. In a small voice he replied, “Yes, some, Grigaere.” the Alpha hesitated before adding in a very hushed voice, “Kummer only speak stupid. In other life … Kummer pre-med. Doc.. doctor no border.”
"It is a bit surprising," Grigaere sighed, "how many of the Corporation's victims are drawn from passably educated walks of life. What parts did you not comprehend?"
Kummer hesitated again. He’d thought long about his disjointed parts ever since he had first awakened. But the extensive processes had robbed him of some - but not all - of his previous reasoning skills to fully grasp his new ‘state’. He replied, “why mix breed? Why white wolf … and cat? Why most wolf, only some cat. Why … why strange cold black smoke? why … me?”
"Ah, those." Grigaere carefully sat down, not quite in touching range of the distressed Alpha. "Matters regarding 'why' are very seldom the sort of thing one can answer, beyond 'the Benefactor wished it'. I can say that many Alphas are enhanced with some kind of stabilized mutant ability after their base design is dropped into place, but the overall pattern contains false notes."
Kummer hunched a bit more together, almost as if he had started to fold in on himself. Not due to Grigaere, but more due to the information and the meaning behind it. “I get,” he replied. “I property,” he said softly, with a deep sadness, glancing at the ground. He looked Grigaere in the eyes obediently once more. “Kummer think … Kummer only a quarter or eighth cat. Most wolf,” he began, “but ‘tactical recon’? No get. ‘Infiltrate’? No get. What ‘tactical recon’? Why ‘infiltrate’ when make say ‘scout’?”
"Infiltration is a somewhat rarer skillset. Normally it goes with a shifter. During the early training, did they teach you to concentrate and alter your appearance somehow?"
Kummer shook his head slightly, “no, just hide. Maybe use dark like blanket.”
"Hmm. Well, we'll strum into that a bit later, if I can persuade an Observer to let me look at your record. Tactical reconnaissance, now, you learned to go and look at a place and what is in it and report back -- that is scout. You also learned to take a more careful look at the people and the things and where they were and what they could affect, always thinking about how to solve the puzzle and keep those working the puzzle with you the most safe and most dangerous. Yes?"
Kummer sniffed, still slightly reeling from his emotional outburst a moment ago. He thought a moment. “Yes, Grigaere,” he replied politely. “Always solving puzzle, always help solve puzzle or make safe puzzle solvers. Report clues what find. Not to miss details … or be punished.”
"Good, very good. That more advanced sort of study and analysis of a hostile place, or a target area, that is 'tactical reconnaissance'. Do you understand now?"
The young Alpha considered that a moment, letting it sink in. His mind turned over the idea, fitting it with the others. “That … why cat,” he said at last. “Better stealth, better jump, Kummer think. Maybe … wolf sense with other make Kummer see more different?” he asked the tall man in front of him.
In his gentlest, most comforting break the bad news to the delicate second chair oboe voice, Grigaere said, "I have no idea. Kummer, you are the first Alpha to ever survive initial creation who was designed with more than one animal crossing. All other Alphas are human templates, with one mammalian source crossed in, and then a careful addition of stabilized metahuman genome from a vast, well-researched catalogue. You are having trouble feeling comfortable with the other Alphas because you, and they, cannot figure out what you are on the instinctive level. You have been trying to retreat to being a man. That is well and fine, my dear boy, and possibly even the only true option of sanity. If you think the puzzle through from the others' perspective, though, I expect you to find that they are to a significant extent their animalistic selves. Often this is not their deliberate choice -- they are guided into it by our makers. There are many reasons we do not ever speak of our human templates, our former selves. Can you ... is this too much for you right now?"
Eyes wide, reflecting a deep sadness, Kummer shivered. “I … jus’ wanted to go home … now I have to be animal?” he whispered hoarsely, hesitated, then rubbed an eye with the fur-covered back of his arm. He looked Grigaere in the eye, summoning a deep level of courage from inside. “No … no too much. Can Kummer what?”
Again Grigaere muttered to himself briefly in that other language. "No, boy, you do not have to be an animal. You have to be at peace with the parts of you that tend toward a more, what word, a more visceral nature. Your mind is assaulted at all times with so much information brought to you by your new senses, your new awareness. You sort it and rank it and fit it into how you understand the world, but it is not the same as what you did for so many years. Scent and sound and changes in how you see, perhaps. Yes?"
Kummer considered that a moment, “Yes. But … when Kummer animal … others more content. So confuse. No get. Just … so tired feeling alone. Feel confused.” The young Alpha shook his head, “no mind Kummer. Yes. Scent, sound change in how Kummer see. I get.”
"You are confused in part, I suspect, because Alphas are not really meant to be alone. This is why you are assigned to communal cages at almost every facility. You were a doctor, young man, or nearly so; what other sense is changed besides those we have discussed?"
The young Alpha stared down at Grigaere’s elaborate coat and turned his mind inward for a moment, examining himself. “Smell better. Kummer smell scent. Can smell soap Grigaere use on wolf … two day ago? Smell rats nearby, smell fear. See dark, very good. More better smell and sight than human. See day not better, almost hurt. Ears,” his voice trailed off remembering the Longbow sergeant friend a moment. He cleared his throat, “ears so very sensitive. Taste … no. Taste same. Touch? Kummer not sure. No try touch much. Too many times beaten … or … other. Think touch only little more better.” He looked back at the tall man, “that what Grigaere mean?”
"Touch may not be better, but your sense of touch is very different. The motion of air through your fur tells you so much more than it ever did through your hair, or on your skin. You know when someone is moving close to you, even behind where you do not see, and you may not even realize that you have not seen it. The warmth of a living body close by is far more agreeable to you than the finest-tuned mechanical heat source. Most Alphas are designed to have a kill trigger when touched without authorization, to prevent clients from molestation and to prevent rival interests from getting clean samples of your DNA. I suspect they erred in yours, as you apparently have a kill trigger when touched by your peers, instead. I really think we should coax Behavioral Science to erase that kill trigger from your instinct set, and let you rest a while before they consider setting it in properly. You are meant, young man, to find comfort in the close resting company of at least one or two peers; you are not at all the first to not succeed there. Felinoids have that problem more often than lupoids, though it's not universal on either side, and that does not get into the many other species. If they would make a flock of bats we might see some interesting things at a facility. You have some options: you can learn how to be alone, and sufficient. The Fehral might be willing to teach you that. She has been alone for many years, as I understand it. You can learn how to blend with a pack or huddle, most likely one of the mixed groups. You can hold on until you are no longer the newest Alpha, and start your own huddle."
Grigaere huffed in frustration. His own installed instincts were telling him to pick the poor miserable wolf up and hold him, but there was that damnable kill trigger issue and there was the even more damnable problem of their first disastrous encounter.
And let us not forget: he is part cat!
The information, while a great deal, did sink into Kummer. It painted a somber set of pictures. Kummer wrapped his arms around himself, as if desperate to shield himself from the world. “No, if is true … still confuse. Fehral touch Kummer, sometimes drag by ear. Kummer no kill. Iceberia poke and hit and claw, Kummer no kill … maybe spit on tiger when tiger no see … twice … wish could hide gum in tiger fur … but no kill. Two lioness help Kummer, touch and pull free from hyena. Kummer no kill. Kummer almost kill hyena, though, and one lion. No mean to. Just too much sense, want make sort. Can’t. Feel drown.”
The young wolf hesitated, trying to make sense of his mangled memories, slowly he started to rock back and forth just slightly. “So much sense come at once, come all fast, feel scared and drown. Better now. Some little better. At first, was so much. Heat, sound, smell, hear voices. So many talk. You, doctors, rats, birds. So many.”
He stopped rocking, then furrowed his brow at Grigaere, “my peer … if Alpha, most no get near Kummer. If so, they beat or … well … hurt anyway. Delta seem no need, have other Alpha. Single animal Alpha do better. Get what do better.” The young wolf screwed up his face in a almost cute wry look of concentration. “If no mix-animal survive … but Kummer … new species not good. Not survive. Kummer have no choice, yes? Kummer must be alone. Not sure Kummer dare hope for pack, not sure safe.. Unless hope is hit by truck.”
"None of us are ever going to be Líf to someone's Lífþrasir, boy," Grigaere derided mildly. "You know about the unit of the Asian foxes, you know about my wolves, you must know there is another pack of wolves around somewhere, and of course the lion pride consists of almost every lion hybrid regardless of their actual assignment. Have you not noticed that leaves quite the number of other hybrids without close kin? Some of the groups that huddle together are also trained together, and often work together, and so are used to one another's company. Some simply collaborate on rest, warmth, relative security, because there is safety in numbers and because a few of the outriders are abusive thugs. The white tiger, for instance -- quite disliked, and not because real tigers are solitary, or because his enhancement was to emit cold; it is purely because he is a bully. Before you came, when the Fehral still slept in the Alpha cages -- good grace, I do miss those days sometimes," he interrupted himself mournfully. "Regardless. She was alone, always permitted a spot near a wall or the bars with a bit of a berth. She has psychotic episodes on occasion, and sometimes wakes from a silent sleep into full attack mode. And I do so much hope that when it happens again, I am far enough out of reach that my colleague has to withstand the burden entirely on his own. I did warn him."
The wheels of thought spun rapidly behind the young wolf’s eyes while he listened. “Kummer get,” he said after a moment of reflective thought. “Kummer see the packs, see prides. Kummer read Grigaere no want more to pack. Kummer also read foxes see things strange Delta only see, but only when she see. Not know how, but Kummer get. Kummer have to make way. Maybe little like Fehral, maybe not.” He hesitated, it was as if he was about to say more, but stopped himself before saying something important - at least in his mind - that had emerged. Instead, he merely nodded a little, “Yes, Kummer get. Kummer maybe find group, will miss touch. Miss very much. Miss talking, miss chess. Kummer part animal, ok. Kummer can learn accept part - even if sometimes drown in senses. Kummer need find way, only have one weapon use. Kummer mind. I talk stupid. No think stupid. Time stop be stupid.”
"Oh, you may find that 'stupid' is a very excellent tool in any Hybrid's survival kit. I suspect very few of the Hybrids who come out of creation significantly reduced in intelligence are completely honest in their deficiency; Sutra-Dhara, for example, is fascinatingly capable of timing her insensate periods for when they will best detach her from her bunkmate. As for my pack, boy, you are correct that I have deep misgivings about the Observers' idea to add you. I have five vividly-delineated hostages to my model, excruciatingly pleasant compliance with Corporate whim. Now, thanks to the Killing Dance being harried into our Benefactor's perfect trap, the entire Corporation is aware that a Delta -- very slightly more protected from true suffering by our creator's fondness -- can be hurt through the Alphas we use our own status to shield. If you are added to my pack, my dear boy, it is utterly likely that another of my wolves will be ... recycled. Withheld, at least. We were imprisoned and created and trained as one group. I have been their shield, and they mine, for two years now, infallibly. I can help care for you, but I cannot adopt you if it means sacrificing one of the men and women I already serve."
Grigaere stared off toward the rubble-filled end of the broken street, now dark under the cloudy night sky. Absent-mindedly, almost certainly without realizing he was doing it, the back of his fur-covered hand brushed through the ragged fur at the end of Kummer's tail.
"You are the first to survive. I have never seen the Corporation rest, satisfied, on a single success. You will not be the last. Even if you die soon -- you survived this far. They are surely already planning the next, if not implementing such a plan."
Kummer watched the man, while his mind raced along new thoughts, new inspirations - fragile at best, most certainly dangerous. Yet … burned with the strange, innocent light of hope. He shuddered when Grigaere touched his fur. The young wolf instantly noticed when it happened, while at the same moment a part of his mind awakened again, reading the tall man with a scrutiny most scholars reserve for a fine tome. The young wolf shook his head slightly, and smiled, almost wryly with a hint of sadness. Slowly, almost as if he ‘knew’ the ‘correct’ moment, he gently reached out and placed a kind, gloved hand on Grigaere’s shoulder with a warm grip.
“No,” he said, “they no take Grigaere’s wolves. Grigaere protect his wolves. Grigaere’s wolves protect Grigaere. Kummer make sure not join pack. Kummer protect both. Get now. Get so much. Kummer so obsessed with past, not see ahead.” The Alpha took a deep breath, drawing on a small inner reserve of courage. “Will be hard. But Kummer do.” The young wolf leaned forward slightly, looking at Grigaere with a curiously intense gaze, rich with an intoxicating depth of intelligence. “Kummer have secret. Kummer think Company make small mistake, overlook. Kummer use. Grigaere no fear. Kummer keep others safe.”
Grigaere studied him thoughtfully while patting that gloved hand on his shoulder. "One cannot, in this life, save very many, Kummer. We are all victims, all instruments in the orchestral pit, not the composer nor even the conductor. We have very little power against their machinations. I am one who creates music; I do what little I can to improve your chances to survive, to remain somewhat sane. Functional, at the least. It will not be enough. If you can bring yourself around to peace with your divided self, if you can learn to woo your equally fragile peers into an alliance against the monstrous ones -- defend one another, alert one another, warm one another, even just to help straighten those annoying tangles along one's spine after a long task -- all that will help your chance of staying functional as well. Not enough, if the Corporation's whim turns against you, but some."
Grigaere patted again. "And if those fleskepanner approach you again, even during lockdown -- which I doubt, as you're hardly a lone target without witnesses during such hours -- what you do is that you go get a Delta. Right away! Do you hear? Not, by preference, Brigid's Verse or Ceylon Spinel."
“I get,” Kummer replied with a small smile, and squeezed the Delta’s hand gently. “Will get Delta. Have no use for Verse. No get Spinel. But … Grigaere … you no get. Even if save one, one touch two, two touch more. When bad men combine,” the Alpha said slowly, forcing himself to correctly pronounce each word in slow turn, “the … good must … must associ.. associate, else they fall, one by one. An … un... unpitied sacrifi.. sacrifice in conte... contemptible struggle.” Kummer sighed from the effort. “Save one, win small battle, win war. Win big battle, lose much, lose war. Grigaere no get … Kummer read animals. Silent language. Animal no work on whim, but instinct. Kummer just get, Company is animal. Kummer can learn read Company animal, but take time. Company no get. Kummer can teach Grigaere. Grigaere teach other. Small win battle, save one, win war.”
"Not me, dear boy. I have far too little privacy. You want to pick a student who is less rare."
“Grigaere make good student, need little privacy,” Kummer said softly, hopefully. “First lesson, Grigaere listen, watch … read. See pattern that have pattern. See sign before motion. Then … when get … pattern let Grigaere predict. Get language unseen. Grigaere need only believe. Kummer still learn too, need practice, like others. Grigaere?” Kummer asked quietly with another of his small smiles, “no ‘victim’ … all is ‘survivor’. Have to fight like say Fehral, but not fight like Fehral, fight own way. Have to try. If no try, then should just lay down and let hyena do what want.”
Half this sounds crazy to me, Kummer thought, but there is a way. It’s reading patterns and tells. It’s just going to be so very hard, but … I have to try. Trying is the only hope I have of making myself whole again. It gives me a reason to fight. He sighed while he gripped Grigaere’s hand reassuringly. At least he’s willing to lay a hand on me. That at least, is a welcome relief. I hope I don’t cry when he lets go.
"We are not survivors, my boy, unless we find our way free," Grigaere disagreed. "It has been done before, but do not rest your hopes on it. Do not even dream of it. You must become too boring to study before such a luxury as dreams will be worth the indulgence. In the meantime," he effortlessly unfolded himself back to his full height, tugging gently to draw Kummer upright as well, "I am in fact supposed to be an admirable spectacle for the lower echelons of certain potential client businesses, at a disgusting little clubhouse in the refined section of this island. You should come along with me, practice sorting out the noises you will hear from the ones you will ignore. We can say that it is our private effort on improving your self-control, and nothing more exotic happened this evening."
Kummer swayed a little unsteady on his feet for a half-second until his balance steadied. “Kummer not dream to be free. Kummer look for courage to dream of others free. Dream with courage, means dream could be true. Will be true. Will be enough for Kummer.” The young Alpha turned over Grigaere’s last words, then shrugged. “Kummer go with Grigaere. No care what others think. Not bother Kummer. Kummer … I …” he corrected himself with a sour look, “no hope for ‘exotic’ any kind.” Kummer smiled again, “Kummer thank Grigaere for no flinch and touch hand. Nice not all avoid. That enough for Kummer … I. Me thank.”
"You are welcome. We will let them think I have been very cautiously flirting with you, a sufficiently satisfactory explanation to wave away any closer interrogation as to what we actually may have discussed. You are my 'type', after all."
Kummer grinned, embarrassed and obviously flattered. “Me flattered. Kummer not know real well what Kummer’s ‘type’, memories … damaged. One day find. Let think you flirt. Like Grigaere say, hide real reason well.” The young wolf stood fully upright with a little effort, then carefully mimiced Grigaere’s formal bow passably well. “Grigaere show way to meet? Kummer happily follow.”
"Of course, I would be delighted." Grigaere returned the formal bow. "Tell me, little Alpha, you give the impression of a Charakterbariton: do you, by any chance, sing? "
“Kummer sing,” the Alpha replied, returning to his usual posture. “Why Grigaere ask?”
