Chapter 7

Control...that's what it's all about. Having it...wanting it...craving it...control is the one thing that seems to drive us. When we have control, particularly of our own lives, we feel invulnerable. We're the centre of the universe when we know exactly how our lives are going to turn out from one day to the next. Having that kind of control is great, but when you lose it, everything changes, doesn't it? Yes...you might think 'that's life' and continue on with your life, or you might be cast into a pit of frustration and rage so all-consuming, all that's left of you is a numb shell, oblivious to the outside world.

Sometimes we make that frustration heard. The screams of the dying aren't always from being in pain...sometimes it's a cry of defiance at the loss of their sense of control. Fear can erupt so quickly when you realize someone or something other than yourself holds your life in their hands, that it can make you do or say anything just to gain that control back. Killers and rapists know this, and use that kind of fear to fulfil their own sick desires. They dangle that control in front of their victims' faces, taunting them with it until the last possible moment before they finish their game.

We call ourselves civilized these days...above the laws of nature, which states only the strong survive. Natural selection...predator and prey...dominance and submission. We say we're above that but we're only fooling ourselves. The strong prey on the weak and the weak hide behind the strong. We fight for dominance every day in wars and sport. People fight for their mates, or for the hand of one whom they wish to impress...and would kill if it meant our place in history was secured.

No...it doesn't matter how many layers of religion and custom you put over things. At the heart of it all we're still no better than our feral ancestors, or any other creature for that matter. We kill for food, for dominance, and for control...and the only way we stop is when someone stronger stops us.

I couldn't remember going back to my dwelling. I had no memory in between kneeling before the grave I'd dug outside and waking up on my mat before a now-dead fire. Absently I moved to pull my shirt tighter around me to stave off the growing chill in the air, only to realize I wasn't wearing my shirt. It was currently bundling up three children whose lives had been taken the night before. That sobering thought made my eyes snap open and the fog lift from my mind.

I sat up on the mat and looked around the dwelling. Grey light poured in from the two windows, and I could hear the incessant rain pouring down outside. It seemed to make the air that much colder, and I made for the fireplace as quickly as I could. It didn't take too long before I had a good-sized fire going, dimly aware that I didn't remember taking any wood in the night before, either. Strange.

Soon my body began to warm up and the shivers stopped, but there wasn't a fire hot enough to chase away the cold, empty feeling in my soul. I could still see the Shatlia dragging his blade across her neck...I could still hear the screams begin to rise in volume before Byreck's hold on me knocked me out. With so little to go on, my mind was filling in the blanks with its own pessimistic assumptions of what else happened. I could hear the other Shatlia laughing as the other two servals were murdered. I could hear the cubs' crying voices, begging for their mother or father to save them, only to finally be silenced as their life's blood poured out of them.

I shut my eyes in an effort to drive the images from my mind, but like any bad thought you want to banish, the harder you try the more it hangs on. I could feel the anger building again...the frustration at not being able to save them was overwhelming. I wanted revenge more than ever at that point, but not for me...for them. My exile, the Ka'al P'ack...none of that seemed important any more. All that really mattered now was to seek out that particular group of Shatlia and feeding them a beat-down unlike any they'd ever experienced. I wanted them to be begging for their mothers at the end...pleading for mercy as I held their lives in my hands. I wanted to take control away from them and dangle it before them like some psychotic killer would.

The only question was...how?

Alone I wouldn't stand a chance against them, but I was willing to bet a few of those gang-bangers I'd met in Junktown would be up for it. It wasn't what I'd originally wanted for myself - to become one of them - but if it served my purpose and I could learn from them, maybe it would be best for me. It wouldn't be that tough to join, I thought. I'd already proven myself strong enough. Ethically, there were probably some things I'd have to work at, but if it came down to a matter of survival, I was sure I could do whatever it took...even if it meant taking someone else's life.

The thought of actually going to Junktown and finding a gang with which to hook up both excited and terrified me. To become someone like that was to basically kiss good-bye any chance at coming home again. Gang life was for life...that much I'd learned before becoming an exile. All the documentaries and news reports my father and grandfather would watch on the telescreen told me that once you were part of a gang, that became your life. You lived and died by the laws of the gang, nothing else. It was a lot like life in the Clans, except for the prestige, money, and status.

Life as a gang member didn't seem that much more appealing to me. After all, they preyed on the innocent just like the Shatlia had, so what made them any better? Granted for them, killing was only done to accomplish a goal, not terrorize a group of already-complacent people. Still, I couldn't see myself bashing someone's skull in just to pull a few credits off them for a new pair of shoes. It just wasn't me.

I felt my heart sink again...from where I was sitting, I had no options. The servals' deaths would go un-avenged, and the Ka'al P'ack would forever be lost to the Clans...all because I'd lost control of my life to the winds of Fate. All seemed hopeless.

Then, in a heartbeat, everything changed.

The door suddenly burst open and on instinct I rolled into a fighting stance. Granted it wasn't much but it was all I knew. It took my mind a full second to recognize what was standing in the doorway, and another second for the fear to start setting in. In the doorway to my dwelling stood what was quite possibly the largest feral tiger I'd ever seen. Its shoulders probably came up as high as my chest, though its height was the last thing on my mind at the time. Its eyes glowed a brilliant, demonic green, and they regarded me with a look that had me beginning to shake. Its mouth was open slightly, giving me but a hint at the long, sharp fangs within.

I stood transfixed as it slowly padded into my dwelling. My nose crinkled slightly at the smell of wet fur combined with its wild musk. That verdant gaze never left me, even as it took a moment to shake off the excess water it had picked up from the outside.

The heat from the fire was all but forgotten, and in its place was a spike of fear so cold, the harshest of winter days seemed warm by comparison. Were it not for the eyes, I would have figured this feral for a wandering beast looking for shelter from the rain. However, that glowing gaze made me remember story after story about the large ferals who wandered the world. Some believed that these weren't ferals at all, but instead members of an ancient sect...one believed to have started not long after our kind's rise to dominance on this world so many millennia ago.

The sect was known as the L'au Tari...the Man Beasts.

These folk were a legend known the world over. It was believed that long ago, the L'au Tari had learned the secret of total body control. Through meditation, discipline, and a martial arts regimen rumoured to be deathly strict, they had mastered the art of the Shift...an event in which their evolved form is cast away and they assume a form dating back to the earliest times. Perhaps it was this ability that led the first Terran visitors to Bengalis to refer to us as rakshasas. Apparently a felinoid's ability to assume another shape once carried some mythical significance on Earth

I couldn't possibly describe in mere words what it felt like at that moment. It was fear, wonder, and excitement all at once to think I was possibly looking at a L'au Tari. In spite of this, though, I maintained my fighting stance. Just because one meets a legend, after all, that doesn't necessarily mean it's a good thing.

"Faced with another riddle, are you?" That it spoke wasn't what bothered me so much. What made the hackles on the back of my neck stand straight up was the fact that I recognized the voice...and the scent now that the overbearing odour of his wet fur had somewhat abated. "But now, you have no answers, do you? No...there is no easy solution for you now."

"W...who are you?" I asked. "W...why are you here?"

"You have committed a great sin, cub," he growled. "For what you did last night, the Clans could burn you at the stake. You knew such a travesty would surely invite the wrath of the Patrons themselves upon you, yet you still buried those three exiles...I would know why."

"B...because they deserved some dignity," I said with a wavering voice.

"Why?" he asked. "They were exiles, like you."

"No...they were children. They didn't deserve what happened to them."

"And do you think by burying them that the Patrons would forgive them?" he asked. "Who are you to judge the actions of their parents? By Clan law it was their right to condemn them, regardless of their age."

"They didn't deserve it." Now I was getting angry.

"How do you know that?"

"Because all they did was miss their curfew."

"They told you this?" I nodded. "And how can you trust their words, hm? What makes you think they were telling the truth about their exile?"

"Because they screamed when they died!" I shouted. "They cried for their mother...their father...anyone to save them and only an innocent would do that."

The Feral didn't stop pacing, but I sensed a decrease in his aggression towards me. I was breathing hard by this point, nearing the boiling point. Why was this...thing...in my dwelling taunting me about this? What did he care about the goings-on of an exile like me?

Unless...unless he was here for more than just conversation...

"So," he said. "You buried them, thinking by such an act they would be somehow vindicated?" That was absurd; according to Clan law, there were protocols that an exile had to follow before being welcomed back. A mere burial after death did nothing but cause the grave-digger to be in trouble.

"No...I..."

"Every action requires a reason, cub," he said. He stopped pacing, and was now sitting before me, keeping himself between me and the door. "Action without reason is madness, and you are not mad...so tell me...why did you bury those three children?"

Funny thing about realizations: Until you put them into words, more often than not the true impact of them never really hits you. That was how it was with me at that moment...for the first time since I'd done it...since I'd defied the law of the Patrons...I finally realized why. All the anger, all the growing frustration that had been brewing within me finally faded away, leaving behind that one diamond-hard gem of truth behind...and when I spoke it, everything made perfect sense.

"Be...because I failed them." I sunk to my knees and bowed my head, finally taking my gaze away from the Feral. "I tried to save them but I couldn't. All my new-found strength and I couldn't even stop some sadistic packla from murdering three children." I buried my muzzle in my hands, trying not to break down in front of this creature but failing miserably.

"The truth finally forms," he said, his voice now gentle. "You were inviting the wrath of the Patrons upon you...wanted to be punished." I nodded slowly, now facing the Feral once again. His eyes had stopped glowing, and I could see that they were actually a hazel colour.

"Everything I've ever known is gone," I choked. "Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I...I can't live like this." I rose to my feet and hung my head. "If you were sent here to end me then do so," I said. "I won't fight it."

"You would choose death so willingly?" the Feral asked.

"I can't do anything anymore," I said. "I can't even think of avenging those cubs, or myself. I've alienated myself from just about everyone, Clansman and exile alike, so why even try to carry on?"

The Feral sat back on its haunches and looked at me. A long silence passed between the two of us and I felt myself beginning to shiver. Part of it was from the cold, but part of it was also from the anticipation. I was waiting for that moment...that split-second where he would tense up just before leaping at me. My mind and body were going over how it would feel to have his weight crash into me and how his fangs would feel sinking into my neck, drawing my blood and ending my life. The more I thought about it, the more the adrenaline was beginning to flow. I began wondering what was taking him so long. Was he waiting for me to say something, or just wanting to draw this out even more? I'd offered him full control over my life, and yet he seemed...well...reluctant to take it.

He closed his eyes, and my own beheld something very few eyes had ever seen. Contrary to the myths surrounding the L'au Tari, there were no glowing auras or sounds of chanting when the Shift occurred. All I could hear was ragged breathing, the odd crack of a bone, and the faint meaty sound as muscles contracted and re-shaped themselves. In truth, it looked as macabre as it did fascinating.

The notion that he was naked was the furthest thing from my mind when he stood up. Wide-eyed, I merely stared at him as he approached me and extended his right hand. "My name is Khrasa T'Lak," he said. "I have come here with a proposal."

I took his hand and he shook it slowly. "Your strength is obvious," he said, running a hand down my left arm. "But you lack the precision to properly use that strength. I also sense that you have a good heart, Dalan...you could never kill without conscience, even if your opponent was undeserving." He poked me in the chest. "You have potential, and you of all people deserve the chance to realize it."

"Why me?" I asked. I could scarcely believe what I was hearing.

"Because any cub who would try as you have deserves it," he replied. "You fought against four armed brigands to protect the Ka'al P'ack from their grasp..."

"And failed," I added.

"And then you defied all rationality by trying to spare three cubs from a grisly fate..."

"And failed again." This was starting to get humiliating.

"Yes, you failed because you are young," said the tiger. "Inexperience is the fatal flaw in youth, Dalan. No child your age could have ever hoped to defeat those thieves, nor could anyone expect you to take on a handful of Elite Guardsmen and live. Yet here you are...alive...and that tells me there is more to your destiny than that which you see before you now."

"If you accept my offer, I will show you the precision you need. I will hone your body into a shape and form the likes of which the Clans only see in their darkest dreams. You will become one of very few, Dalan, and yours will be the legacy of legend."

A peal of thunder sounded outside, as if L'Tin, the Patron of weather, was purposely trying to set the mood. I couldn't believe what Khrasa was saying. He wanted me...he was inviting me...to become one of the L'au Tari. I could learn an art whose origins were lost in the mists of time, and in time pass it along to others. I could become a true predator in this society of ignorant bliss. The very prospect of achieving such a thing made my heart pound.

I felt the electricity in the air as my spirits began to lift. The next two words I spoke almost came out as a purr, mainly because the thought of the retribution I was going to visit upon those murdering Shatlia was just oh, so delicious.

"I...accept."

"I am not your master...I am your teacher. Every task you are assigned from me will serve the purpose of education."

I trudged through the rain, shirtless, cold, and getting hungry as I made my way back to Junktown. It never fails to amaze me just how one's spirits can be lifted so high by someone, only to be dropped from said height and come crashing down.

He said everything he had me do would be in the interest of education. In one way, I suppose the situation I was in was a good test of endurance, or perhaps tolerance of the elements. Either that or this was all part of the next thing he said to me after lesson one had been learned:

"Now, you will return to Junktown and to the Foundation's warehouse. You will apologize to Silas and offer your services to him whatever that may entail. If he is satisfied with you, he will give you something that will lead you back to me. This is your second lesson, Dalan: Humility."

I was positive now that the Patrons had spared my life the night before just so they could put me through this. Humility? More like humiliation. After my little outburst the night before it wouldn't have surprised me to find those two guards standing at the doorway, guns levelled at me and telling me to leave. Still, for what going through this could earn me, scarfing down a few slices of humble pie was more than worth it.

On the way back to the warehouse, I had a lot of time to think about the events of the past day...Mother and Father always said I had a good memory, but for the life of me I couldn't remember stumbling into my dwelling in the middle of the night. Moreover, I had no recollection of bringing in an armload of wood just so I could get a fire going the next morning. I thought sardonically that maybe I had some kind of guardian angel looking out for me, though I couldn't figure out why. I'd broken one of the most sacred laws of the Patrons the night before...what kind of divine power would find that amusing?

Remember what I said about realization? The logical destination of my last thought nearly made me trip up with its impact. Were my stomach not so empty at the time I would have probably retched for a good hour, thinking that by defying the Patrons, I was playing right into the hands of the Dark One...The Lord of the Seven Hells himself.

By the time I reached Junktown I was shivering, and not just from the cold. My mind was now racing with the thought that all that had happened to me...all that I'd gone through since the night of the Kumal...had all been orchestrated by the Dark One. You have to admit, the plot was pretty typical to any holy parable out there, regardless of your religious beliefs. Nearly every religion in the galaxy has the same story of the Devil or Demon as being a tempter...the one who strikes a bargain with you. In the short term, you get what it is you want, but in the end your eternal soul is damned. Bengalan religion is no different in that respect than any other.

I leaned up against the wall of some old factory building and sighed heavily. Why? Why me? What was so damned special about me that I'd be a target like this? I'd been a good cub up until now...I'd always stayed out of trouble, and never crossed Mother or Father...why would the Patrons see fit to throw me to the wild like this?

Religion and rationality began to battle each other in my mind as the rain continued to fall all around me. My beliefs were screaming that accepting Khrasa's offer would be akin to selling my soul to the Darkness, but the rational side of me claimed that the ways of the L'au Tari far outdated any writings or philosophies from the Patrons. That being said, did the Patrons have any right to condemn something so ancient?

To that end...weren't the Patrons supposed to protect the righteous too? Wasn't it their covenant with the Clans to keep them safe in the face of all adversity?

Where were they for me? Where were they for those three kittens I'd buried the night before?

Rationality was quickly gaining ground on religion by this point. Every promise the Patrons had made in their texts and testaments had been broken to me. Had Ke'an really been watching me, something would have happened that night a year ago to keep me safe from my attackers. Were he truly caring for what happened to me in this life, he would have intervened before Father had swung that sword...wouldn't he?

Wouldn't the Patrons have saved those three children too? Were they that heartless...or...were they even watching?

My confusion was short-lived, thanks to that last thought. The constant questioning in my mind was soon quieted by the anger growing inside. The questions would be answered in due time, but for the moment survival was the main priority. I had to make it back to the Foundation and, if necessary, grovel at Silas' feet for his forgiveness. For better or for worse, what Khrasa had, I needed...no...I wanted. I didn't care if it was sacrilege any more. As an exile, I was doomed to die alone and worthless.

But as a L'au Tari...I could live...and thrive...

I let a low, rumbling growl of determination escape my throat as I pushed off from the building and headed towards the warehouse. As before I kept my eyes, ears, and whiskers trained for any movement or change in the electricity in the air. Thankfully, the rain seemed to be keeping everyone inside this time. I was thankful for that; the last thing I needed was to be cut down when I was so close to some kind of life for myself.

At last, I could see the warehouse ahead of me, and I quickened my pace. I was tired and cold, but knowing the warmth that lay just beyond those doors seemed to re-energize me. Once I'd spotted the place, it felt as though getting there took no time at all, and before I knew it I was pushing that door open...

And subsequently staring into the barrels of two shotguns. In retrospect, I guess I should have knocked first.

"Hold it right...oh...it's you," said the panther. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he was somewhat less than impressed to see me again. However, he was gracious enough to lower his weapon.

"Here to bury more of us?" I looked past the two bruisers and noticed Silas standing there. I found it odd that he was there until I noticed he was carrying what looked like two mugs of steaming hot tea. He must have been bringing them out for the guards when I made my somewhat less-than-impressive entrance. I was just about to smile at him when I noticed the look on his muzzle...he was about as impressed to see me as the other two goons.

"I...no," I said. I felt like I'd just been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar. With the exception of my mother, no one could make me feel like this with just a look, and Silas was pulling it off masterfully. I was beginning to get the feeling that I wasn't the first exile he'd had to straighten out. "I...I came to apologize," I finally said, wishing I was somewhere else.

"Apologize?" he asked. "Well, go on then."

"I'm sorry I acted the way I did," I said. "I had no right to be angry at you or anyone else." I looked straight at the old cougar, fighting down the urge to look away from that stern look. "You were the first person who's shown me any kind of friendship since all this happened, and I'm sorry I returned that kindness with so much anger. Whatever I can do to make it up to you, name it."

He continued to stare at me, his expression not changing in the slightest. I did my best to do the same; I genuinely wanted things to be clear between us, but I also knew the reward for regaining his friendship. For that, I was sure I'd do anything.

"So," he said after what felt like an eternity. "If I told you the only we'd be square is for you to go in there, stand on a table, and apologize to everyone, you'd do it?" I nodded, hopefully not too quickly. "You realize you'd be lying though, right?"

"What?"

"Ya don't get this old without listenin', kid," he said. "You want to be square with me, and that I believe. But you still hot at the rest of 'em for doin' nothin', right?"

His expression hadn't changed, and suddenly all the hope...all the anticipation of being trained as a L'au Tari faded away. He knew. He knew I could never apologize to those people in there and truly mean it. At best it would be a thin one, designed to placate everyone so that I could carry on with my life. It would be as worthless as some of them were.

With a sigh, I shook my head. "You're right," I said. "Either it's too soon or it'll never happen. Silas, I'm sorry for being angry with you, and I'm sorry that I caused such a scene...I mean that. But if us being 'square' means I have to go in there and lie to everyone else, then I truly am sorry because I can't do it."

I turned to go, but suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked back and saw it belonged to the panther. His gun now hung limply in his other hand, and the expression he bore made him look like he was on the verge of breaking down. It was a bit of a surprise given that at first he didn't look capable of showing any emotion at all.

"Where's your shirt?" he asked.

"With them," I said softly. "I wrapped them in it before I..." The memories of the night before welled up in my mind, and I could recall perfectly wrapping those servals in my tattered shirt. "I don't know why," I said. "It just seemed...proper."

"You goin' soft on us, Nath?" the bobcat asked.

The panther looked over at the bobcat and snarled. "This ain't about goin' soft," he said. "This kid's got more heart than anyone in there." He pointed towards the inner door. "No one in there gives a damn about anythin' outside their own little world. They'd roll you in your sleep if you had what they wanted...but not him." He jerked a thumb back to me. "Anyone who'd give the shirt offa his back to bury the dead's cool with me."

The bobcat looked like he was trying to work his mind over what his partner had said. Given what 'Nath' had said, I remember wondering if he'd perhaps been in the military...maybe fought in the last Lakayan civil war. It had only been a few years ago; I was only 4 when it happened, and it lasted for about 5 years. My brother...make that 'former' brother, Richard, was born the day the war ended.

Finally, I saw the bobcat nod, and it was the kind of nod that came from wisdom far deeper than what he'd just processed. I had a feeling these two had some kind of history, or they knew something about each other to which this situation seemed to apply. Either way, when that bobcat looked back at me with a relaxed expression, I finally realized I hadn't been breathing for close to a minute.

"S'all good, Silas," he said. "S'all good."

Silas looked at me, and I saw his face soften too. That smile he'd flashed the day before was back on his muzzle where it belonged. "You hungry, son?" he asked. As usual, my stomach did the talking for me. He chuckled and gestured with his head towards the inner doors. "C'mon," he said. "Let's get you fixed up."

Ever had that feeling, when you're going into situation, and you fear the worst? You know, your mind starts playing out the absolute worst-case situation, and you wind up scaring yourself into thinking something's worse than it already is. That was how I felt when those inner doors were pushed open and I stepped inside. I was fully expecting to be confronted by a handful of people, all of them coming down on me with their righteous indignation at what I'd said the night before.

Yet, save for a few unsavoury glares from some people, my entrance largely went unnoticed. I felt somewhat relieved at this. No one stepped up to confront me, and if people were making comments behind my back, I never noticed.

As we made our way through the tables on the way to the food line, I started looking around to see if that female cougar was there. It didn't look like she was, so I paid it no real mind. I figured if anyone was going to step up and tell me off about the night before, it would be her. I was ready for it, though; having Nath on my side seemed to add a bit of credibility to what I thought was a pretty thin justification for what I'd done.

Once we had our meals, Silas and I took a seat at an empty table. The meal was another bowl of hearty stew, but the ingredients looked different, and it didn't smell like what I'd had the night before. Still, it tasted rich, and had the bite of a few strong spices in it. If I had a chill from the rain, this would surely chase it away.

"Nath don't say much," said Silas. "He usually lets his gun to the talkin'." He paused as he took a drink of water. "Whew...that stuff's gone some burn."

"Was he a soldier?" I asked. Silas looked at me with his head cocked to one side. "He just seemed the type," I defended, not wanting to jeopardize what I'd just recently rebuilt here.

"Yeah," said Silas. "Long story short, the war messed 'im up, an' that's why he's here now." He shrugged. "You'd have to talk to 'im to know more," he said. I let the subject drop after that. I wasn't going to pry into Nath's personal life via someone else. I'd ask him directly if I really wanted to know what happened.

We ate pretty much in silence after that, which gave me a lot of time to think. I wasn't sure how to broach the subject to Silas, but I was beginning to wonder what it was he was supposed to give me that would lead me to Khrasa. Had he accepted my apology...or was he just being as nice to me as he would be to any exile?

"You mentioned yesterday that you wanted to work," he finally said as I finished my stew. It wasn't much of a question...more of a statement. "That still true?"

I nodded. "I mean the food here's great," I said. "But it'd be nice to be a little more self-sufficient."

"You know that to do that you'll need a new ID," said Silas. "And it best you be lookin' for work where they prefer backs over brains. The stronger you are, the less questions they ask." I nodded and started running down a list of possible places where brawn trumped brain. I could be a bouncer in a tavern, though the thought of fighting every night like that didn't seem too appealing. Security guard was out, mainly because they'd need to do a check, and depending on how good my ID was, I'd probably be found out...and shot on sight.

"The spaceport's always lookin' for folks," said Silas, almost reading my mind. "Someone's gotta move that cargo on and off. Might be the best place to start."

"I'll do that," I said, "once I can afford the new ID." Silas began to chuckle, and now it was my turn to stare at him with a cocked head. "What is it?" I asked.

Silas stood and took his tray. "C'mere kid," he said. I followed him first to drop off our trays, and then down one wall of the warehouse past the tables, and even past the cots. "Some exiles ain't too keen on gettin' help," he explained as we walked. "Most times, they just take our opening offer and we never hear from 'em. I guess they think they ain't even worthy of that."

"Exiles are supposed to live in shame, according to the Patrons," I said. "At least, that's what the texts say."

"Ain't one for religion, are ya?"

"Where were the Patrons last night?" I countered. Though he didn't stop walking, I saw Silas's head turn just enough to that he could look at me with one eye. His muzzle twisted into a slight smirk; I think he was enjoying my little bits of rebellion...or maybe he just liked the idea of someone unwilling to just roll over and die for being exiled.

When we got past the cots, we stood before a section of the warehouse that had been curtained off. I hadn't noticed this area the night before, mainly because the curtains were the same colour as the walls. "Any exile who needs help," said Silas, turning to me, "we do our damnedest to help. Ain't no price for it, save that you do right by it all. You keep yer nose clean an' make somethin' o' yourself, an' that's all the payment we need."

With that, he drew the curtain back and my eyes widened. There were two long tables here, each of them holding eight computer workstations, each connected to a hub, which then connected to what looked like a Hypernet router.

I should explain that the Hypernet is Bengalis' global communications and media system. The term 'Hypernet' is little more than a marketing term, as the communication media over the planet has nothing to do with hyperspace. Entertainment, information, communication...just about every form of computer-based activity uses the Hypernet in some way. While businesses and homes may have their own sub-networks, they all connect to the Hypernet, which is in turn connected to the Confederation-wide HYCOS. HYCOS is short for HYperspace COmmunication System, which actually does route signals from system to system through hyperspace relays.

Silas led me over to one of the computers and bid me to sit before it. There was nothing spectacular about the machine; my sister's computer was far more elaborate than this one, except this one's monitor was a bit larger, and the touchpad looked far more worn than hers. I tapped the pad to switch off the screen saver and was introduced to what looked like an application form program...like what you'd see on a Hypernet employment site.

"This is Janus," said Silas, tapping the edge of the monitor. "ID creation software. This is tied into the city's registry, so when you're done here, you get added to the system." I looked up at him. "It's all just questions and answers, kid," he said. "After that," he motioned towards the corner, where what looked like a scanner was located, "all ya gotta do is let the machine scan ya, an' it's done."

"What does the scanner do?" I asked.

"Not much," said Silas. "Height, weight, blood type...all the things the registry needs to know 'bout ya." At that point, I felt fortunate that the registry didn't require Class 2 cyborgs to register themselves. Class 1's had to, mainly due to the fact that their augments were visible. Someone like me didn't have to worry about that.

"Once you're done here," he said, "go get yourself some clothes, and then come find me, all right?" I nodded, thanking him before staring back at the monitor. I could see the Janus logo at the top of the screen, and then a brief explanation of what the program did, the cyber-name of its author, and then the form. Pretty basic to look at, but really, how flashy does one really want something like this?

I reached for the keyboard, and then stopped. The full realization of what I was about to do suddenly hit me, and I stopped. This was it, I figured. Once that name was put in, Dalan Kalamar was officially off the grid...dead. With a new identity, I could go anywhere...do anything. I could walk away from all of this and make a life for myself...a new life...a good life. The possibilities were endless...I'd have a clean slate.

Even if Silas didn't give me what I needed to see Khrasa again, this was just as good. If our kind still had tails, I'm sure mine would be twitching with anticipation. I placed my hands over the keys once more and stared at the screen. The questions were fairly straightforward: First name, surname, birth date, city of birth, city of current residence, the usual stuff. From the looks of it, the 'current address' field had been hard-coded to show one of the many hostels throughout the city. Made sense; a fair number of people, mostly immigrants and transient workers, often made the hostels their home while they saved up for something better. I smirked at that; I lived in a hostel too...just a little more remote than most.

I had to choose a name that would not only fit me, but it had to be one with which I was comfortable. It also had to be one that I could remember easily should anyone address me by it. I typed in my own name first, gazing at the five letters. Making an anagram of it was out of the question, but maybe there was something else I could do. I started adding and removing letters slowly, testing each new name in my mind and ultimately rejecting it.

Dalan...Alan...Daylan...Daylen...Dayren...Darren...hmm...no...wait...

I stared at the last name I wrote: Darren. It felt almost right, like a connection that would be true if just one side of the equation were tweaked just that much more. Keeping the name in my thoughts I made one subtle change and beheld what was on the screen:

Darien...my new name would be Darien...perfect.

I grinned at the name, even tried it out a few times. "Hi, my name's Darien...pleasure to meet you," I said to no one in particular. Yes...that name would be perfect for me. I tapped on the 'Confirm' button on the screen and the cursor moved to the next field: surname. At the time of one's banishment, they are typically stripped of their surnames, thereby severing any and all ties with their Clan. I felt a purr of satisfaction muster in my throat at the mere idea of giving myself a new surname. It would be a slap in the face of Clan dogma worthy of the most outspoken opponents of Clan society. Given what had happened here the night before, I was more than willing to go through with it. Again, though, I had to be careful and choosy in my methods to make sure it fit me properly.

I started with my former family name: Kalamar. As with my first name I started adding and removing letters to find the right combination. Kalamar...Kamrala...Karmal...Karm...Kam... Kan...hmm..wait...K A I N...Kain. Darien...Kain.

It was far enough away from my real name to be believable, yet close enough for me that I could fit into it perfectly. I mumbled the name to myself several times, committing it to memory before confirming moving on. I gave myself a winter birth date, which meant, according to the registry I was a legal adult. Being a tiger, even at 13 I was filled out enough that very few people would question my age if they looked at me. I knew my real Coming of Age wasn't that far off, but I wanted to get started on this new life of mine as soon as possible. I needed a job, and no one would hire a minor unless it was for some illegal purpose.

The rest of the form was fairly easy to fill out, and before long I tapped on the 'Submit' button using the touchpad. The computer screen flashed a 'Please Wait' notification, along with some little distracting animation as it processed my input. In spite of how I felt on the inside, there was no real ceremony to this. It was all cold...almost clinical in a way. Who would have thought that an action so subtle and innocent could completely change one's life forever?

The screen suddenly changed and a new message appeared on it: 'Please stand in front of the scanner.' I quickly rose from my chair and moved to the corner of the room Silas had pointed out earlier. Before the scanning device, the floor was marked with a green circle. I assumed that's where I was supposed to stand. The moment I stepped in, the machine seemed to come to life. A scanning wand ran up and down my body rather quickly, and before I knew it, it was done.

I returned to my seat and was greeted with the 'Please Wait' message again. Moments later, the printer at the end of the table whirred to life, and I went to take a look. This wasn't your typical paper printer, but one designed to print information on nano-flex. Everything from telescreens to portable media players used nano-flex in some way. It could be as thin as real paper, or as thick as a hard plastic card, but when properly programmed could store and display any kind of information. Personal ID cards were one of the first applications of nano-flex, and I could only assume that's what was being printed.

Moments later the card lay in the printer's output tray and I picked it up. It responded to my touch as though it was alive, and there, staring back at me was my own face with someone else's name...no...my name...my new name. This was my life now...my new life...my clean slate.

Darien Kain, KADA52467.hypernet.shonto.bengalis was now online.

I pocketed the card as I made my way from the computer tables and over to the clothing racks I'd noticed the day before. The two guarding this area looked about as large as Nath and his comrade in the entryway, but they didn't appear armed. Of course, when you're built like a titan, honestly, do you really need a weapon?

They nodded and gave me a small smile of welcome, basically giving me permission to browse. It didn't take long for me to pick out some clothes that I liked and that actually fit me. Three shirts, two pairs of pants, a pair of working boots, and a black trench coat. There wasn't much else in the way of coats or jackets, so I figured this would have to do for now. I also picked up a knapsack, and stuffed the new clothing into it (minus the coat and one shirt) before heading back to the tables to find Silas.

The cougar smiled widely as he saw me approach him. "Well, look at you now," he said. "Ya look like a new man, kid. Feelin' better?"

I nodded. "A lot better, thanks to you, Silas."

"No need ta thank me," he said as I sat across from him. "C'n I see your card?" I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I slid it across the table to him and he picked it up. "Darien Kain, eh?" He looked at the card, and then at me. "Kinda fits...good choice." He tapped on the card a few times, but I couldn't see what he was doing. After a few moments he put the card down and slid it back to me. "All looks good, kid," he said with a smile. "Welcome to your new life."

When Silas had been fiddling with my ID card, he'd actually programmed into it several places where I could find work, as well as the map to Khrasa's meeting place. It had been in the middle of a fire-gutted building even deeper in Junktown than the Foundation's warehouse. When I'd gotten there, I was convinced I'd taken a wrong turn, but went in anyway.

Sure enough, Khrasa had been there and we talked for a couple of hours about the training, what it involved, and what my commitment to it would be. For three afternoons per week I would meet with him, and every second weekend would be a retreat, where we would go to the mountains and train. I had to admit I was curious as to why I was to remain in the city. I would have thought to learn such an art, one would have to cut themselves off from civilization completely, and focus on the training.

Khrasa had actually chuckled at that, and said I'd watched too many movies. The key to someone learning an art as forbidden as that of the L'au Tari was to blend in with one's surroundings...all but disappear from sight. So long as no one knew, or even suspected, that I was learning to fight, then they'd leave me alone and treat me just like everyone else. "When you're not perceived as a threat," he'd said, "then people tend to be more candid around you."

As I walked back towards my dwelling I slowly began to understand what he was saying. It was all about camouflage...all about being invisible in a societal sense. There was no better way to do this than project the illusion that I led a normal life, all the while keeping alert for any clues as to what became of the Ka'al P'ack, or who it that had attacked me.

My best non-Clan friend, Max, would have called it living the greatest prank ever. Max...gods...I'd been so distracted over the past couple of days that I hadn't stopped to think about my friends...at least those I'd known before all of this happened. Even though Max had no official Clan status, I thought sadly that it would be too great a risk to him and his family if I tried to contact him. His mother's fur would go white if she found out her 'little prodigy' was running around with an exile.

I thought briefly of my other non-Clan friends, and I can't describe how much it hurt, knowing I'd never see them again. Losing Shiana was painful, and losing Byreck...well...what he did to me more than compensated for the loss there. But losing them was hardest of all, mostly because even though Clan law didn't apply to them, the social repercussions of being seen with me could be just as bad as if they were all Clansmen.

I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed when my dwelling came into view. I let out a small smile, relieved to finally be there. As sore as I was from all the walking I'd done, seeing that place gave me the same reaction as seeing the warehouse had earlier. I felt re-energized and quickly made it to the front door.

After stowing my clothes and coat, I headed outside to gather some more firewood for the night, and that when I heard something. A strange sound filled my ears, and I stopped dead in my tracks. It was a disgusting sound, like some alien creature retching somewhere behind the dwelling. Warily, I put down the firewood and walked towards that sound, my whiskers extended full forwards and my fists beginning to clench. Accompanying the retching sound was that of heavy breathing...and the unmistakable whimper of someone in trouble.

I rounded the corner of the house, and my eyes widened. I could see someone...or something...kneeling down near where I'd buried the children the night before. The ground still looked disturbed, so the grave was easy to spot. Slowly I began to walk towards the figure, and the closer I got, the more I could see them shaking. I could hear an almost childlike whimpering coming from the figure, then watched as it recoiled, made a gurgling sound, and retched again. My nostrils were filled with the rotten, acidic smell of sickness any bile.

After the figure stopped, it remained hunched over, and soon the whimpering returned, though it sounded weaker than it had before. I could also hear it mumbling...no...speaking. I couldn't make out what was being said, but it was rhythmic...timed...as though it were a prayer of some sort. What was more shocking was the voice...I recognized it. It was the female cougar from the night before. What was she doing here?

To my eternal shame, my first reaction was to just leave her there to her fate, but as I heard her retching I realized I couldn't possibly do such a thing. Her attitude aside, I wasn't about to let a fellow exile suffer like this...not after I'd just buried three of them to give them some dignity.

"A...are you all right?" I stuttered, trying to use a gentle tone so she wouldn't be startled. It didn't work, because she turned on me and made some fearful sound that finally became a hiss of warning. "It's all right," I said, putting my hands up in a submissive gesture. "Let me help you." Only silence replied and I moved closer. Gods, the smell of the bile was almost overwhelming. "Please," I said. "Let me help you."

"I...I..." She tried to stand, and promptly her legs buckled. I stepped forward and caught her, and I realized she'd fainted. At first I thought the worst, but my ears could pick up her faint breathing. Quickly I picked her up in my arms and carried her back to my dwelling, where I laid her down on the sila mat and went about preparing a fire.

Once the place began to warm up I looked over at her and felt my heart skip a beat. Around her muzzle were traces of green bile...green...unnatural green. Gods...she'd contracted Therus Fever. It's a sickness often associated with the poor, mainly because the treatment for it is so common and inexpensive, not having it is almost unheard of in Shonto. However, as easy as it is to treat, the consequences of not treating it are dire. Vomiting up green bile is only the first stage of the disease. If left untreated, she could lose all her fur next, then be subject to lesions on the skin as the disease breaks down her body from the inside out. Finally, the victim ends up dying a twisted, painful death.

Thankfully she'd only shown the first symptom of the disease, meaning it was treatable. Grandfather once told me that the best treatment for Therus Fever was the leaves of the Tokia plant, brewed as an herbal drink. My mind began racing as I tried to recall what that plant looked like, and as I remembered, I also remembered that I'd seen them on the path leading to this place from the estate. I only hoped there would be enough.

I set out immediately and within a few minutes I had enough of the leaves to help. I placed them on the floor of the dwelling before grabbing the bucket and heading for the pool. I filled the bucket with water, and on the way back to the dwelling I picked up a stone for help in crushing some of the leaves. The 'tea' would take several hours to steep, but Grandfather also showed me how to crush the leaves up into a paste that could help start the healing process right away.

I set the bucket over the fire, and placed the bulk of the leaves in it. Once the water boiled, I would remove it and let it steep over in the corner. The rest of the leaves - about a handful or so - I began crushing with the rock on the floor, and before long I had the desired paste.

I scooped the paste up in my hand and moved towards the cougar. She was still unconscious, so I rolled her onto her side and, after wiping the bile from her muzzle, smeared the paste on her lips. Unconsciously her tongue darted out and swept the paste into her mouth before swallowing. Her face wrinkled up momentarily before returning to normal. I couldn't help but chuckle; Grandfather had said this remedy was a bitter pill to swallow.

I did this a few more times with her until all the paste was gone. This would keep her safe through the night until she could start drinking the tea in the morning. I did my best to make her comfortable, removing her jacket and balling it up for her to use as a pillow. I took a moment to look her over, and I had to admit, for a sharp-tongued, sarcastic, and overall apathetic bitch, she was fairly easy on the eyes. She had all the right curves in all the right places, and when her muzzle wasn't bearing an expression of contempt or apathy, it looked rather gentle.

I lay back on the floor, still wearing my trench coat and making a pillow out of my new knapsack. I curled up as close to the fire as I could after stoking it to ensure the place would stay warm. In spite of my exhaustion I tried to stay awake as long as I could to make sure she was going to be all right through the night. Alas, sleep finally came and when it did I was out. I remember my last thoughts being of her as I finally drifted off to sleep, and I silently prayed that in the morning, I wouldn't be burying another exile.