The Autobiography Of An Alien

Interlude: Venomous Viktor, part 1

Viktor shot him an unimpressed look. "Count yourself lucky," he grumbled, only brightening when Vikka poked his head out of the sling to peer at him.

"Ra! Ra!" he babbled happily, reaching out to him. Fondness filled him as he let the little alien baby grasp his finger. His tiny claws dug almost painfully into his skin, but that was okay, because Viktor loved him.

"Give me strength, Vikka," he said solemnly. Vikka matched his serious expression, grumbling a low, "Ra."

The actual court wasn't too bad. People from all over the planet came to the manor to seek advice or pleas from the Vokkra. It was overly crowded, though, and more often than not, Viktor saw Vok'Rul reach to his other wrist and cradle the bracelet he had gotten him.

Usually, these questions were sent through the Council, then to Rukka, then through him, and finally to Vok'Rul. They rarely made their way to him, though, and it seemed that everyone was willing to take advantage of the fact that Vok'Rul was here to take their complaints in person.

Some were serious, and Viktor took mental notes to get back to those ones. Others were... less serious.

"O Great Vokkra," one yellow-tinged Vokkrus knelt before Vok'Rul. "I come before you to plead my neighbor's case... They are being afflicted, night and day, by the sounds of my other neighbor's Flyhks!"

Vok'Rul looked mildly puzzled. "Have you contacted animal control?"

The Vokkrus looked shocked, as if that had never occurred to them. "By the Spirits! O Vokkra, thank you!"

"Jesus Christ," he couldn't help but mutter under his breath. Vok'Rul flicked him with his tail. He rubbed the stinging section of his arm testily.

But some were neither serious nor trivial. They were downright unpleasant.

Anyone could come to the manor, and anyone could plead their case. There were criminals, those who had not been imprisoned but instead put on monitored watch, and there were those who had been imprisoned, escorted by guards, and never allowed as close as the civilians could be. Viktor thought that was good for both parties.

Especially considering he wanted to wring this particular criminal's neck.

Lilac had her head bowed submissively, held down by three guards. She was shackled, but Viktor was still nervous.

No, he wasn't nervous, he tried to reassure himself. His hands gripped the arms of the chair he sat in hard enough to crack.

She both had and hadn't changed in the ten years he's seen her. Her skin was still the faint blue-purple he'd come to fear. Her tail was still long and dragging. But her shoulders had drawn in on themselves, hiding her away from the stares of the attendants. And when she raised her head only briefly to glance at Vok'Rul - please, please don't look over here, he thought - her eyes were dull.

With regret? With exhaustion? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"O Vokkra," Lilac spoke, and the simple sound of her voice made his heart rate spike.

"Denied," Vok'Rul growled with malice devouring his voice. Viktor's never heard him so pissed. "Get out."

Viktor had never asked what had happened to Lilac. She had been the only surviving member of his tormentors. Vok'Rul had told him that he hadn't needed to know back when everything had happened, and he had taken it to heart. He hadn't wanted to know, and yet, here she was. She must have been thrown in prison. It was almost remarkable that he hadn't heard about her for so long. Vok'Rul must have been pretty thorough with... whatever it took to keep someone in jail.