The man in the gray suit nearly chokes on his glass of Atlantean at the sight. "Good Lord! Who or what happened to you, neighbor? Was it the same thing that happened to that..." He sniffs the air a moment. "...filly?"
"Not personally," he says darkly. "But, yes, a great many of the Zarg who were hunting them were killed. They may have improved in intelligence over time, but they still have difficulty knowing when they are...outclassed."
The foal picks up on his anger and twitches a way. The Ranger calms himself, then reaches out to reassure her.
"But, I fear the damage has been done, and no amount of retribution will undo it."
"I'm guessing these 'Zarg' are a species; from the sound of it, they're the sort of predator that needs to be kept away from the manors of sentient life. In which case, good work."
He notices a ripple in the subquantum medium, though its contents are necessarily opaque to him, then sees the filly calm down. A telepath? Interesting.
"No, you most likely can't bring back the dam, but you can at least reduce the chance of other mares in the herd sharing her fate."
"Oh, my friend," he says, mournfully. "If it were only that simple. Equus caballus has been teetering on the brink for sometime. This is likely the final push that sends this noble, misused species over the edge for good."
At the mention of the date, the man in gray whistles low for a moment. "I do believe that's the furthest down the timestream of anyone in this bar. Well, with the possible exception of those who've been born here or are otherwise native to this washed-up finale of Time."
A realization hits him. "I'm Michael, by the way. Michael Donighal. What's your name, assuming you have one and not an unspellable, unpronounceable symbol?"
"I am honored to meet you, Michael, thought the circumstances could be more pleasant. And, no, although I've got a great many names, none of them are unpronouncable. Difficult, perhaps, but not impossible."
He holds out his free hand. "The two I go by the most here are Spero and Saggio. Since they were given to me here, it feels appropriate."
"If your society goes by use-names, then the names you use here would fit best. I hope," faint emphasis for the sake of the pun, "they're appropriate to you as well. I believe I'll use Spero, simply because that's what your present when represents. But if I come up with something better once I get to know you, will it be acceptable if I start using that?"
"More than acceptable," he says. "In fact, it is our custom to be given a new name by each person we meet."
A shrug.
"I have attempted to curb that expectation here. Most find it confusing when I 'introduce' myself saying, 'What would you like to call me?'"
The filly chooses that moment to jerk on the nipple and the Ranger has to react quick to keep from losing his grip on the bottle entirely. "Carefully, little one. That will not make the milk come faster."
"Interesting custom, though you're probably right to curb its effects here. This place is enough of a mind-expansion by itself, after all. Is there a title that goes with any of your names? 'Mister' would seem too informal, while 'Master' goes too far in the opposite direction."
He watches the animal handling with interest. "You have quite a way with her. Is that what you do in your own where and when? Care for endangered species?"
He manages to coax the filly into a little more restraint in her eating.
"My title would be Anla'shok or Ranger," he says. "Which is such a broad calling that we do practically everything."
The filly continues suckling and is most enjoying the stroking of her withers. After being trapped in a crevasse by her own mother's body, this is much better.
"Caring for this one and her fellows...well, that is not our responsibilty. We were called in to drive away the Zarg and stayed to give what aid we could. Though it may be of little use in the end."
"Ranger Spero, the far-ranging," Michael says, more thinking out loud than meaning to be overheard.
"Little use?" This is conversational. "I hope not. I'm only a fair-to-middling horseman myself, but I'd hate for the species to die out. Is there anything I can do to help, think you?"
"My friend, everything has a point of no return," he says sadly. "Even with gene surgery, the remaining population of horses is far too small to be self-sustaining. Last year, a new mutation of 'strangles' cut the herd by a third due to lack of genetic variation. Now with the Zarg's butchery..."
He shakes his head. If only we still had access to ancient gametes. There were huge banks of them once...mostly destroyed when Earth suffered the Great Burn. If we only could..."
His voice trails off. Then his head snaps around to look at the Back Door.
Reply
"Nothing happened to me besides getting blood on my clothes," he says. His eyes harden at the memory. "The blood of this poor one's mother, I fear."
Reply
Reply
The foal picks up on his anger and twitches a way. The Ranger calms himself, then reaches out to reassure her.
"But, I fear the damage has been done, and no amount of retribution will undo it."
Reply
He notices a ripple in the subquantum medium, though its contents are necessarily opaque to him, then sees the filly calm down. A telepath? Interesting.
"No, you most likely can't bring back the dam, but you can at least reduce the chance of other mares in the herd sharing her fate."
Reply
"Oh, my friend," he says, mournfully. "If it were only that simple. Equus caballus has been teetering on the brink for sometime. This is likely the final push that sends this noble, misused species over the edge for good."
Reply
Reply
"The year I hale from is 1,002,262 A.D. using the old dating method."
Reply
At the mention of the date, the man in gray whistles low for a moment. "I do believe that's the furthest down the timestream of anyone in this bar. Well, with the possible exception of those who've been born here or are otherwise native to this washed-up finale of Time."
A realization hits him. "I'm Michael, by the way. Michael Donighal. What's your name, assuming you have one and not an unspellable, unpronounceable symbol?"
Reply
"I am honored to meet you, Michael, thought the circumstances could be more pleasant. And, no, although I've got a great many names, none of them are unpronouncable. Difficult, perhaps, but not impossible."
He holds out his free hand. "The two I go by the most here are Spero and Saggio. Since they were given to me here, it feels appropriate."
Reply
Reply
A shrug.
"I have attempted to curb that expectation here. Most find it confusing when I 'introduce' myself saying, 'What would you like to call me?'"
The filly chooses that moment to jerk on the nipple and the Ranger has to react quick to keep from losing his grip on the bottle entirely. "Carefully, little one. That will not make the milk come faster."
Reply
He watches the animal handling with interest. "You have quite a way with her. Is that what you do in your own where and when? Care for endangered species?"
Reply
"My title would be Anla'shok or Ranger," he says. "Which is such a broad calling that we do practically everything."
The filly continues suckling and is most enjoying the stroking of her withers. After being trapped in a crevasse by her own mother's body, this is much better.
"Caring for this one and her fellows...well, that is not our responsibilty. We were called in to drive away the Zarg and stayed to give what aid we could. Though it may be of little use in the end."
Reply
"Little use?" This is conversational. "I hope not. I'm only a fair-to-middling horseman myself, but I'd hate for the species to die out. Is there anything I can do to help, think you?"
Reply
He shakes his head. If only we still had access to ancient gametes. There were huge banks of them once...mostly destroyed when Earth suffered the Great Burn. If we only could..."
His voice trails off. Then his head snaps around to look at the Back Door.
Reply
Leave a comment