“We have a problem.”

Caetyr looked up from her sketchpad as Ourellia burst through the door of her studio, looking very upset about something.

Caetyr calmly set aside the sketch of a royalberry blossom she was working on and sat back in her chair. “What’s the matter?”

Ourellia shrugged. “I was talking to the human and-“

“Oh is she talking again?” Caetyr asked cheerfully.

“Yes, but-“

“I hope that means she’s settling in.” Caetyr reached for her sketchpad again and began drawing.

Ourellia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, Cae, listen… there’s a problem with her. She says she’s from Earth.”

“So?”

Ourellia’s eyes widened. “So? So? Are you mad? Poaching humans from Earth is illegal. Extremely illegal. As in ‘spend a long time on a penal colony’ illegal.”

Caetyr rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about? There’s no possible way she’s really from Earth. She heard some stories about Earth, or something, and thought it would be a fun game to pretend to be an Earth human.”

Ourellia bit her lip, still unsure. “But… the red line…”

Ourellia shrugged. “Frankly, I’ve always thought the red line policy was misguided. I mean, we’re worried about ‘contaminating their culture’? What culture? If it were up to me, we’d take humans into our protection where they belong, where they’ll be safe. Not out on some rock right next to the insectoids.”

“Cae… if she’s telling the truth… if she’s really from-”

“Oh come on!” Caetyr chuckled incredulously. “What’s more likely? That someone went to the trouble of poaching humans from Earth, (when humans are readily available throughout the Empire, mind you) or that she’s just trying to play a game with us, that she’s just pretending, because she likes the idea of being from Earth?”

Ourellia shrugged. “I…I guess you’re probably right.”

Caetyr smiled and placed her hands on the taller woman’s arms. “Don’t worry; tomorrow we’ll take her into the vet. If she has a chip already, then we’ll get her back to whoever owns her. If she doesn’t, we’ll get her chipped properly and she’ll have a nice safe home with us. And I’ll bet that once she gets used to being with us, all this talk of Earth will stop, because she won’t need to pretend anymore.”

Ourellia smiled and nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I know I am. You’ll see.”

*.*.*.*

Charlotte was impatient. She wanted to start searching for Molly right away, but Vanser had to sleep. The fact that Titans had to sleep for an entire day was something Charlotte hadn’t quite gotten used to. Of course, she supposed that her need to sleep “several times a day” was equally perplexing to Titans.

They were planning on returning to the “scene of the crime.” Charlotte wasn’t really banking on finding anything, but it was worth a look. If nothing else, they could ask to see if the women who had taken Molly were staying at the hotel.

But first Charlotte had to wait for Vanser to get out of the shower. She sat on the windowsill of the hotel room, looking out over the giant city. Skyscrapers the size of mountains surrounded the hotel on every side, and occasionally a sleek metallic shuttle would zip past. In the background, Charlotte could hear the waterfall of the shower going in the bathroom.

Eventually though, the cacophonous downpour ceased and Vanser stepped from the bathroom. He was wearing the lower half of his uniform and toweling off his damp hair.

“Ready to go?” Vanser asked Charlotte as he pulled his shirt over his head and threw on a long jacket.

“Are you kidding?” Charlotte snorted. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

Vanser smiled and lowered a hand to her, which Charlotte carefully climbed into. “Good, let’s get going.”

He raised his hand to his shoulder and Charlotte climbed into the hollow of his clavicle. As Vanser stepped out of the hotel room, Charlotte idly brushed his hair away from her shoulder. Vanser apparently needed a haircut.

Charlotte was surprised at how soft his hair was. It was still damp from his shower and smelled of whatever shampoo he had used. It smelled… really good.

“Charlotte?” Vanser’s voice was tinted with amusement.

“Hm?”

“Are you petting me?”

Charlotte jerked her hand away self-consciously. “Um… possibly?” Vanser chuckled, but decided not to say anything. He stepped into the elevator and headed down towards the main floor and the lobby. Charlotte watched from her perch as they passed by the main reception. The woman behind the desk was checking in a what looked like a family of four. The young daughter looked up and made eye contact with Charlotte as she floated past.

Charlotte waved to her, right before Vanser passed through a door.

The quiet of the main lobby was replaced with the thunderous sounds of dozens of giant conversations all happening at once. Charlotte was very familiar with it, seeing as she’d spent almost an entire Archavian day inside the bar.

“You should probably get off my shoulder.” Vanser muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He reached up and pulled open a small pocket on his chest.

“Right.” Charlotte sighed and carefully slid into the waiting pouch. She leaned up against the lip of the pocket, the air around her smelled heavily of leather. She knelt down in the pocket and tried to remain as hidden as possible.

Once he was satisfied that Charlotte was sufficiently hidden, he slowly approached the bar. As he walked, he instinctively scanned the bar, making note of all the patrons, exits and any potential dangers or hazards.

“What can I get you, handsome?” The lady behind the bar asked him, smiling widely as she wiped the bar down with a clean cloth.

Vanser smirked and placed both of his hands on the bar top. “I was hoping you might be able to help me. I’m looking for someone.”

“Really?” The bar tender crossed her arms over her chest. “And who would that be?”

Vanser gave the bartender the rough description of the two women that Charlotte had managed to come up with.

“They were in here the other day.” He finished.

“Sorry, I can’t really help you with that. I wasn’t here, it was my day off.”

Vanser sighed. This was getting them nowhere.

“What’s this all about anyway?” The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Vanser glanced around secretively before leaning forward. “All right… the truth is we’re looking for a human.”

“A human?”

“Yeah.” He quickly opened his coat to show the woman his Imperator identification.

“You’re an Imperator?”

“I am.”

“What are you doing chasing after a human?”

“You know the Imperial Family is in town for the tribute? Well, Princess Rhionne’s pet human got loose and we think she’s currently in the possession of the two women I described to you. They were seen here earlier, and I thought maybe someone might have some information on how to find them.”

“Royals.” The bartender rolled her eyes.

Vanser grinned. “Yeah. What are you going to do though?”

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you, Imperator.” The bartender shrugged. “But feel free to have a look around, and let me know if I can help you with anything else.”

“I’ll do that.” Vanser nodded, before stepping away from the bar.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlotte poked her head out of the jacket pocket. “Escaped royal pet?” She said incredulously. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Hey, give me a break.” Vanser muttered quietly. “I only had about a second to think.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “How about I talk to the next guy?”

*.*.*.*.*

Lenya had spent the day prowling around the arena, searching the faces in the crowd for any sign of Molly’s abductors. She was armed only with a description of the two women courtesy of Charlotte.

It wasn’t much, and if she was honest with herself, Lenya wasn’t really expecting anything substantial to happen. But it was a course of action, and it was better than nothing. She was already pretty sure that neither of the women were players. At least, no player she recognized.

Eventually, Lenya found herself in the observation box watching the end of the current match between Daemon and The Puppetmaster. She was dressed in her costume, as were the other players who were observing the match.

Outwardly, her expression was blank. Contemplative, at most. Inwardly, however, a molten whirlpool of anger raged. She had watched as The Puppetmaster had soundly defeated Daemon in the final round. Lenya wasn’t certain yet if the human was the true player or not, as the rumors had suggested, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was.

That wasn’t what had enraged her, though. What had set her off was at the end, Daemon had snatched away the human “puppet” and, rather loudly, declared that he had been cheated out of a fair competition.

“Sore fragging loser.” She heard someone mutter behind her. Lenya had to agree, but not only that, she could see how Daemon was holding the human man and it was not at all carefully. Even if Lenya hadn’t understood the depth of human intelligence as she now did, she would be angry at Daemon, any decent person would.

She had to get out of there, if she stayed, she might find herself rushing the arena. And if she did that, there was an even chance she might just kill Daemon.

So, she swept from the room, past the changing rooms, not even bothering to remove her costumes. She shoved her way past the onlookers and backstage crew and tramped towards the exit.

Pushing the door open, the tol-bot player pushed out into the bright mid-day sun.

“Dibilique!” She heard the shouts from the hoarde of reporters waiting outside to try and scavenge an interview from someone noteworthy about the incident that had just occurred. She didn’t bother wondering how they had found out, because of course they had.

“Dibilique! Dibilique over here!” She heard one female voice yell. “Care to comment on the end of the Puppetmaster/Daemon match?”

“No comment.” Dibilique muttered tersely.

“What about on the rumors that Puppetmaster’s human is actually the real player?”

“No comment!”

“Do you think that Daemon was justified in lodging his complaints?”

That last one caused Dibilique to stop. She whipped around to face the reporter. It was a shame Lenya didn’t have a mirror because the look on her face must have been something to cause the young woman to take a step back when faced with Dibilique’s apparent fury.

“Justified?” Lenya repeated. “Justified?! Let me tell you, even if there wasn’t a human involved, you don’t cry foul on the last round unless it was because of the last round. Daemon has proved, once again, what we all knew: That he is an immature low-level sub-par player. He has demonstrated that he doesn’t even deserve to line up in a junior league beginner’s exhibition match, let alone the frakking Tribute.

“So no,” Dibilique continued. “He is not even slightly ‘justified’ in his challenge. Besides the flagrant disregard of sportsmanship and proper conduct that Tol-bot tradition requires- you don’t lodge a complaint about your opponent after losing. You just don’t. Besides that, there was the revolting demonstration of his lack of decency in physically handling, and possibly harming, a living creature. No matter what one feels about humans or their level of sentience, even the basest creature doesn’t deserve what Daemon did to that human.

“But, on the subject of the rumors that have been surrounding this tournament since the Puppetmaster won her first match, I will say this: I don’t know whether the human ‘marionette’ is the real player or not, and frankly, I don’t care. Part of me hopes that he is. A part of me hopes that he manages to go all the way and rubs the victory in the faces of all the smug complacent slags that look down their noses at his kind. There’s a part of me that would gladly take the loss just to see the status quo upended even just a tiny little bit, just to see some of the dust get shaken loose from society. Because I see the cracks forming, little by little. A human writing novels, a human teaching in our schools, or a human acting in movies. A human winning tol-bot. Each little nudge will eventually start an avalanche and by the gods I only hope I’m still alive to see it.

“But in the meantime, I swear that if the Diatiti find in favor of Daemon and his ridiculous little temper tantrum, I say right now and you can damn well quote me on this- that I will be resigning from this tournament in protest of the sham it will have shown itself to be. Dibilique will leave this tournament and perhaps may never set foot in an arena again. And I suspect that I will not be the only one.

Dibilique breathed heavily, suddenly exhausted after her diatribe. The poor reporter looked shell-shocked and flabbergasted. She had her stylus poised over her data pad to make a notation, but it seemed she had suddenly forgotten how to use it.

“Uhm…” The young woman muttered confusedly. “Shall I just say that you would have no problem facing Puppetmaster in a match, even if the human turns out to be the real player?”

“Yeah.” Dibilique sneered, turning to walk away. “Go with that.”