Chapter 9: Play It Again

The Outranger stood there, smiling down at Etzli. "Howdy, I'm McQuain."

Once the shock wore off--

"Really? They sent a freakin' Outranger to interrogate me?"

--Etzli realized she was jumping to conclusions. The Royal Navy might've arrested her, but the Outrangers had managed to take over her questioning, which was the best way to protect one of their own. That made more sense.

Well... she wasn't an Outranger yet, but close enough. A sense of relief and gratitude washed over her. She may have been carted off to the galactic seat, but at least McQuain was an ally.

Etzli would answer all of his questions to the best of her ability.

The monster shifted in the darkness, as if to say, "What about me? Are you going to tell him all about me?"

"I'm gonna sit, if you don't mind." McQuain pulled out the other chair. "Been a long day. From what I hear, you could say the same thing. Hells bells, girl, your eyes are red as the devil!"

Etzli self-consciously averted her gaze. "It was a rough ride."

"What happened, by the way?" McQuain asked. "Foldin' space is duck soup for most folks, but you took it like a kick to the gut."

"I've been kicked in the gut before," she muttered. "This was not that."

"How so?" he asked.

Eztli shrugged. "People always say spacefold happens in the blink of an eye, but it doesn't. I felt myself pulled apart and put together again every time, and it was... a long process."

McQuain narrowed his eyes. "You experienced time during the jump? That's impossible."

She didn't have the energy or interest in arguing about it. Her opinion of McQuain took a dip. "Fine."

McQuain leaned back in his chair. "Etzli Laughing River... Interesting name ya got there."

Etzli shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do. It's pretty, but it's also rare. Some might say old-fashioned. Others might even call your name ancient."

Etzli frowned. She wasn't sure what he was implying.

"Your folks gave you that name?" McQuain

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Etzli.

"You aren't close?"

Etzli didn't feel the need to answer that.

"Or you don't know 'em," McQuain guessed. "So you're an orphan."

"I have a father," she snapped. "Pampaa Topilli of the First Western Temple on Pake."

McQuain whistled. "Adopted by a genu-wine celebrity. Lucky you."

Etzli shook her head. "Pampaa isn't a celebrity."

McQuain had a good chuckle at that. "So listen, I'd like to play you a song."

Etzli said, "O...kay? Like on a guitar or something?" Was this guy trying to throw her off, confuse her somehow?

"Not quite. Just give a li'l listen, tell me whatcha think." McQuain keyed his bracelet.

A voice emanated from the ceiling tiles. An elderly man. He sang a strange, haunting melody in an unknown language. It sounded ritualistic somehow. There was emotion in the voice, causing a waver. He nearly gasped each breath between words. A dirge?

When the song ended, McQuain asked, "Recognize it?"

Etzli shook her head.

"The melody? The words?"

Etzli said, "I don't even know the language, but the old man sounds broken up about it."

McQuain leaned forward. "Broken up about what?"

She shrugged. "Whatever he's singing about."

"Just so's I'm hearing you right: you claim you ain't heard this song before."

Etzli nodded. "That's right."

"Never sung it?" McQuain asked.

Etzli frowned. "I said I don't know it, but you're asking if I sang it?"

"My job to ask questions." McQuain shrugged. "It's what they pay me the big bucks for."

"I thought they paid you to bring justice to an unjust galaxy."

He nodded. "True enough. That's why I'm here."

Etzli felt all the color go out of her cheeks. "So you're saying that questioning me is your way of bringing justice? Then, that would make me... a criminal?"

McQuain offered an apologetic smile.

It could only mean one thing. "What happened to Paras? Is she alive?"

"Let's focus on the song--"

"Did I hurt her? Tell me! Did I..." Etzli fought to get the word out. "Kill her?"

"That why you conjured up that monster in the mountain? To kill her?"

"No!" Etzli exclaimed, then caught herself. "I mean, what? A monster? What are you--"

"Speaking of, why'd you call in that army of the dead too?" asked McQuain. "Wasn't the monster enough?"

Now Etzli's confusion was genuine. "Say what now?"

McQuain shifted gears on her. "Tell me what happened to the Quiet Worlds."

Etzli rubbed her temples. "Are you just making up questions now? What are you even talking about?"

"Fine." McQuain twirled a finger. "Let's circle back to your Criterion. Just how did you transmogrify that shadow spirit into a rage monster?"

"I didn't make any monsters!" Etzli couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice.

She needed him to believe her. He was her only ally on the planet. She didn't know if he was putting on a tough-cop show for the higher ups, but she needed him to know she was a good-guy, like him.

"So someone else made the monster?" McQuain itched his forehead. "Was it the Domu gal? Did she conjure the beast? Is that why you called to the dead? To protect you?"

"Why do you keep saying I called the dead?"

"Because you did."

"I promise you, I didn't," Etzli snapped.

"Hate to call you a liar, but it's all there on camera." McQuain said.

She blinked. "Camera?"

He nodded. "Yuh-huh. Every Criterion is automatically filmed for the safety of the candidates. And the Temple Elders were understandably disturbed by the ruckus you caused."

McQuain keyed his bracelet, igniting holographic video of the mountain trial:

Paras is sprawled on the ground, dazed...

The monster looms over her...

Etzli dives onto Paras, trying to shield her. Watching the monster advance, Etzli lifts her head and begins to sing in a voice clear as a bell, and haunting as a half-forgotten nightmare...

Stunned, Etzli shook her head. "But I didn't sing."

"We're both watching the same feed." McQuain pointed. "What are you doing right there?"

Watching herself sing, Etzli said, "But I don't sing in front of anybody. Benja says I can't hold a note in a bucket."

"You sound pretty good to me. And it's obviously the same song the old timer was belting out. Every note, every word--at least phonetically. Truth is, no one can actually identify, let alone translate, what language you're singing in."

Etzli shoved back from the table. "This is fake. You're trying to confuse me!"

McQuain let the video play out: singing, arms raised, Etzli seems to beckon the dead spirits toward her. The monster knocks Etzli aside, then lunges at Paras. The dead spirits swarm the monster, dragging it roaring into the ground.

The video ended, leaving Etzli trembling. "Did she survive?"

"Focus, Etzli."

"Did she make it!" Etzli demanded.

"I'm asking the questions!" McQuain hollered. All the down-home charm was gone. All that was left was the rage. "I ask! You answer! And you will answer truthfully or, so help me, I will bury your evil-eyed ass so far beneath the surface of this planet, you'll never see sunlight again!"

This outburst may have been intended to shock n' awe Etzli into obedience, but it had the opposite effect.

There was no way McQuain could've known it, but he'd just clarified things for her. The Outrangers weren't here to help. They didn't see Etzli as an ally in need. They saw her as the enemy. The monster.

And, as much as she might've wished she didn't, Etzli knew very well how to be a monster.

"Tell me what happened to the Quiet Worlds!" he demanded.

"No idea."

"Answer me!"

"You told me to be honest," she hissed, calm as a frozen lake.

"Yes, I did!"

"Well, I'm honestly telling you I don't know what the hell the Quiet Worlds even are."

McQuain slammed his fists on the table. "Don't lie to me!"

Etzli jumped at the sound. She tried to keep her expression blank, but despair mixed in with her anger. The sullen rebel act was just that. She held none of the cards. She didn't know what the Outranger was talking about.

Quiet Worlds? What were they? Her home on Pake was quiet. She wanted to get back to that peace and quiet pretty bad right now.

"What," she said in a slow, shaky voice, "would it take for me to convince you I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Honestly?" McQuain shook his head without sympathy. "There ain't much of anything you could say now that I'd take with a grain of salt. No, I reckon it's gonna take tougher fellas than me to get some real answers outta the likes of you."

"Well, then." Etzli crossed her arms over herself. "I guess we have nothing to talk about."

"If that's the way it's gotta be--"

Something thumped against the door.

Etzli and McQuain both turned to the door. A muffled shout. Several deep-bass crashes made the entire room shake. Gunfire.

McQuain reached for his six-shooter. "What the--"

An ear-splitting shriek of metal as the door blasted open, shattering the lock.

Paras stormed into the room, enraged. She turned her double-barrel on McQuain and opened fire -- slamming him against the wall with a concentrated two-punch sonic wave. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Etzli!"

Seeing Paras alive and kicking shocked Etzli so badly, she burst into tears.

Paras put her arms around Etzli, and hugged her tight. "Are you alright? Holy hell, look at your eyes."

"I know." Through the tears, Etzli pled, "Seriously, dude, what the hell is happening?"

"Don't get me started," said Paras. "It's all the same web of corruption, incompetence, and hypocrisy. Makes me sick! But, you know what? Let's escape first, rant later."

Beyond grateful to find she did have a friend on this planet, Etzli said, "Let's roll."