The Forgotten Planet

Morning came far too early for my alcohol-addled brain. My ’Seven had done its job clearing the congeners and acetaldehyde out of my system in real-time as I drank, but I still woke up with a headache. Plus, the aroma from the steaming eggs on the plate in front of me was making my stomach roil.

“You look like death warmed-over bro,” Adan said. “You’re pale as paper.”

“Can you speak quieter please?” I mumbled.

“Did you drink any water last night?” Maxine asked. I shook my head, and I felt my brain rattle around in my skull. I pushed my plate away and rested my head in my hands.

“Rookie mistake,” Adan said. He had a raised lump below his hairline, where Jamal had clocked him. “You’ve got to drink a glass of water for every shot of booze. Hangovers are mostly due to dehydration.” He was in all denim and his Stetson, and his boots and belt both appeared to be cut from the hide of some exotic animal.

“Rehydrate and get some fats in your system, son,” Russell said, pouring coffee in my mug. The swelling in his eye had gone down, but it was an angry purple. “You’ll feel better after that.”

We were having our breakfast at the small table in Adan’s un-used room, since the rest of my party wasn’t welcome in the dining suite. In addition to scrambled eggs, there was sausage, toast with real butter, pastries and a few different types of exotic fruit that I didn’t recognize.

I knew that a meal like this with actual animal products and fresh produce cost more than a month’s rent, and I figured Vance was footing the bill. I groaned and forked a small bit of egg into my mouth, and it tasted like, cheesy, buttery heaven. After I was relatively sure the first bite was going to stay down, I made quick work of the rest of the plate’s contents. A thousand calories and three mugs of coffee later, I felt approximately sixty-seven percent better – at a standard ninety-five percent confidence interval.

I sat back in my chair with a satisfied sigh and looked out the window of the suite with bleary eyes as the space station crept almost imperceptibly towards us. We’d passed the center-mass of the elevator system many hours previous, and the centrifugal forces at the space station at end of the tether was now generating the car’s “gravity,” rather than the actual gravity of the planet below. The interior of the cabin completed its half-rotation sometime during our sleep cycle and now the station appeared to be below our feet rather than above our heads.

Colonization-era technology was simple and effective compared with modern standards. Sure, artificial graviton waves work great for mock-gravity in modern starships and space stations, but I find that the technology of our grandfather’s generation had a simple elegance that today’s spacetime-bending systems lack. Newton’s Laws of Physics essentially became suggestions once Terrans unified quantum theory with general relativity in the late 21st century, and then all bets were off once we got the secret of element 115 from the Kaldonians via the Galactic Depository.

“We’re really doing this little bro,” Adan said, rousing me from my daydream. He stuck out his hand to tousle my stubby hair. I warned him away with a glare.

“I never thought we’d get this far,” I said, almost to myself.

Adan scrunched up his face at me. “Really? I never had a doubt, broheim,” he said confidently. That’s because he doesn’t have a head for statistics, but I kept that thought to myself. Honestly, I wish I was optimistic like Adan, but cold logic and hopeless enthusiasm mix like oil and water.

Adan pushed his empty plate away from him and said to Max, in what he probably thought was a casual manner, “Oh, hey babe, I think I left something in your room.”

“Oh, do tell,” Max replied, eyes raised above the rim of her mug. “And do you need my help finding said item?” She seemed to have an unending supply of skintight jumpsuits. This one was grey with a single red stripe down each leg and arm.

“You damn bunnies better hurry up,” Russ said. “We dock in about an hour.”

Max and Adan both stood, and Adan said, “It shouldn’t take more than five to ten-”

Max cut in, “It will take as long as it takes, Russell my dear.” She grabbed Adan’s hand and dragged him towards the door. Poochy left his spot under the breakfast table and followed Adan to the door.

“Oh no you don’t, humpy,” Adan said to his dog, “Stay here with your brother.”

“Oh, we’re related now?” I said just before the door slid shut behind Adan, leaving Russell and I sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Poochy pawed at the door and wined, and as silly as it sounds, I felt sorry for him.

I sighed and said, “Come here buddy.” He ignored me. I showed him my leftover sausage, and he was across the room with his chin on my lap before I could even say, “Treat.” He took the meat without nipping my fingers, and even let me rub his head before curling up at my feet. Maybe he’s not so bad.

Russell was staring silently out the window, so I poured myself another cup of coffee from the silver carafe and blew away the steam as I took in the site below. The shape of station’s main body resembled an enormous doughnut, with eight smaller dinner plate-shaped structures projecting out from long and relatively thin tubes spaced at even intervals from the center. Each plate-like structure connected to its right and left side neighbors by single, identical tubes. The climbing cable went up the center of the hole of the doughnut, and our car was destined for the hole in the middle.

I assumed the doughnut was the inner ring where Mitchel said I would find Oppenheimer. As I added a second packet of sugar to my coffee, a ping alerted me that I was close enough to the station to access their welcome signal. I took the opportunity to download a copy of the stations floor plan and business directory, and found a pawn shop in A7, between a textile vendor and a banking chain.

“Thankfully these suites are soundproof,” Russell said, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” I asked. Then I looked at the smirk on his face and balanced the equation. Then I blushed. “Oh, yeah,” I said with a nervous laugh. “Back at the flat, our rooms were separated by a curtain. I think I knew the word for god in twenty different languages by the time I was twelve.” That elicited a gruff chuckle from Mr. Sunshine. “So, you’re ok with Adan and Maxine...”

He shrugged. “I’m her partner, not her father. If she wants to date brainless pretty-boys, that’s her prerogative.” He frowned and added, “No offense.”

“No, it’s a fair description of him,” I admitted. “So, you and Max just work together?”

He paused and seemed to think about his answer for a moment. “Well, you could say she’s my protégés,” he amended, “but even that term doesn’t really explain it.” He looked for a moment like he wanted to say more, then changed his mind and went to work on a cheese Danish. I took his cue and did the same.

Thirty minutes, a couple Danish and another mug of coffee later, we were close enough to the station to read the stenciled name on the side of the station: T.C. Excelsior. I much preferred the Terran Confederation moniker to the current Salarian destination, 0001624356. The lizards have no creativity or sense of style.

I looked over at Russell, who appeared to be dozing. He’d slumped low in his chair with his feet propped up on a nearby couch, and the bill of his cap was pulled down over his face. He was in brown tapered pants and a white pullover shirt that showed off his massive guns.

I had some questions I wanted answered, and I kept opening and closing my mouth, not noting exactly how to broach the subject. Just when I’d decided to give up and try a little exotic fruit, he spoke from under his cap, and I about jumped out of my skin. “There a reason your eyeballing me, son?”

‘I don’t completely trust you, and I want to pump you for information,’ didn’t seem like the best way to start this particular conversation, so with my Seven barely keeping my pulse in the 90’s, I struggled to pull words out of my nether regions. “Hey, Russ, yeah, I was just wondering about your plans if we do find Earth?”

He slid the cap back on his thinning dome and said, “It depends on what we find. Salvage an old ship, maybe. If we find any artifacts, there’s always the black market.”

“Would you go through the Cabal for that?” I asked. I had exactly zero idea who or what the Cabal was, but I remembered Max asking Russ about it back in our flat. The thermal scanners in my left eye caught Russ’s sudden increase in body temp, but otherwise he didn’t miss a beat. “The Cabal’s just a few pirate clans with delusions of grandeur, son.” He shook his head and said, “No, I know a few guys in the Beta Cato system who I used to run with. They can handle any special merchandise we happen to come across.”

I nodded my understanding. It sounded reasonable, but something about the man just rubbed me the wrong way. Adan and I had been running scams most of our lives, and sometimes it just takes a conman to know a conman. Or I was just being paranoid.

I had a few follow up questions, but just then the door slid open, and Adan and Max ambled into the room practically entwined. I couldn’t help but smile. “Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked Adan.

“Oh, he found it,” Maxine purred in answer. “And more than once, I might add.”

Russell slowly shook his head a few times and rubbed at his temples. “Well, you’re just in time for docking,” Russell said.

Max and Adan looked at each other. Max shook her head and said, “Too easy.”

Adan nodded and then looked out the window, “Holy mackerel, Batman, that’s a tight fit.”

I looked at Max and she pointed to her crinkled nose. “A bit on the nose,” she answered. The universe only gives so many opportunities for one-liners, but she was probably right, and besides my target audience wasn’t paying any attention.

Adan had his face pressed up against the window, looking up as we passed through the center of the station. The only dimensions I can speak to with any clarity are those of the car and the station, and boy, we did just fit. From my vantage point, it looked like the inner wall of the station was a millimeter from my brother’s cheek.

Russell stood and stretched. “Let’s meet in the lobby in ten, kids,” he said, not waiting for a reply.

The car’s velocity slowed to a crawl as we entered the station and passed into the inner atmosphere of the station. We lost our view as we passed through the center of the station, but moments later, we emerged into an enclosed atrium, coming to rest a few stories above ground level. Below us, I could see folks lining up to pass through the checkpoint that separated this area from the rest of the station. Max came to stand next to Adan, and she slipped her right hand into my brother’s rear pocket. It didn’t take long for me to start feeling like the third wheel.

“I’m gonna grab my stuff,” I said to their backs. “You guys should do the same.”

Adan waved over his shoulder in a way that was both an acknowledgment and a dismissal.

...

“About damn time,” Russell said, when Maxine and Adan finally arrived in the car lobby. I’d arrived on time and had to watch his scowl deepen for ten full minutes.

“Did you have to find something again?” I asked with annoyance.

Adan answered with a sheepish shrug and Max with twinkling eye and a half-grin. Adan added the duster to his cowboy ensemble, and Maxine had a form-fitting black leather jacket that went down past her knees. They looked like the beautiful extras in a beer commercial. I’d added a black insulated jacket to my grey cargo pants and blue tee. The temperature of the car had dropped ten degrees since we’d docked and depressurized. Only Russell seemed oblivious to the temperature change. Or maybe he just wanted to keep flashing his pipes.

We strolled out of the first-class exit hatch onto the thatched titanium floors of the catwalk. The air was a little stale, with slightly metallic tinge to it. The decor was various shades of grey, and the lighting was industrial white, but even so, I couldn’t help but smile. I was finally leaving Palance behind and had a lead on that creep Martel to boot.

A floor below us I could see a sea of economy-class passengers filing down the metal staircase and merging into a line that crisscrossed back and forth on itself countless times through waist-height steel fencing, before ending in front of the desks of two customs agents. Beyond the agents, armed lizards funneled the Terran passengers into a slow-moving single-file line that disappeared down into the bowels of the station. Everyone looked disheveled and exhausted, and I remembered Russell’s bleak description of the coach accommodations on the car. Adan beat me to the question that was rattling around in my head.

“Why are there so many Terrans here right now?” he asked.

“There was a labor call on some rock farther down the spiral arm... Costa Perdida I think,” Maxine answered. “They’re off to be farmers or mechanics or whatever the Vox need.”

“It actually helps make us look a little less conspicuous,” Russell answered. “That and a few c-notes in the right hands.

I got what he meant. We looked more like manual laborers than we did Vox lackeys. Well, all of us but Max maybe. Outside of those two groups, my people weren’t generally on any inter-solar travel itineraries. At least having Poochy with us made us seem outwardly upper class. Only the rich could afford to have pets.

We took the first-class elevator down to the lobby and followed the signage that allowed us to bypass the snaking line of laborers waiting to clear customs. I avoided making eye contact with my fellow Terrans, but I could still feel hundreds of angry eyes on me. They obviously assumed we were with the Vox, and I eased in next to Adan and did my best to use him as a meat shield.

Adan threw an arm around me and asked, “Your music on?” I nodded. I’d picked Juicebox because it had a bit of an edge to it, but even that wasn’t driving away all the butterflies in my stomach. “Just ignore them and stay in character. We’re VIPs after all.”

It wasn’t that I wasn’t afraid of being accosted. We were perfectly safe in that regard. There were at least fifty Salarian soldiers with stun batons and riot guns between us and the crowd, and besides, I was fairly certain that I could have overridden one or more of the stations security pods and unleashed the sonic cannons before the stations staff even could.

All the old Confederation tech was coded similarly, and even passively scanning the surface security, the systems felt safe and familiar. I’d hacked my first ground transport when I was ten after all. No, the problem was that I was having to pretend, even for a moment, that I was a race-traitor rather than one of them.

The first-class line, such as it was, ended at a standing booth manned by a single agent, and beyond that an empty tunnel leading to the upper level of the inner ring. Oh, and there were also potted ferns and a life size marble statue of some Vox master trader. I’d seen enough of these in government buildings that I recognized the pose – the man standing tall and gazing toward the horizon, with the rolled-up contract in one hand and a book of law in the other. The agent manning the booth was a grey-skinned Zeta Reticulan. He was the first I’d ever seen in person, and I did my best not to gawk at the diminutive officer the as we approached its desk.

Zetas are the advanced scouts of the Salarian Navy, and easily the creepiest race humanity has ever come in contact with. It’s not just the large round eyes, expressionless faces and squat, androgynous bodies that were disconcerting, it was the rumors of the quasi-scientific experiments that they were reported to conduct on the indigenous populations of new-contact worlds. Basically, they were all a bunch of anal-probing little weirdos.

Russell stepped up to the gleaming metal desk and said, “Guido, my man. How’s it hanging?”

“How very droll, Russell,” Guido replied in a nasally voice, which is kind of strange, since he didn’t really have a nose. “Travel documents.” Russel slid them across the desk, and Guido picked the top one up and began to examine it. Without looking up from the booklet, he asked, “You got what we talked about?”

Russell chuckled and said, “Not on me.”

“I know she’s not on you Terran,” he replied. “Is she at the agreed upon location?” Russell smirked and touched his wrister a few times and showed Guido the screen.

“Satisfied?” Russell asked.

“She’ll do nicely,” he said quietly. He scooped up the booklets and handed them back to Russell. “Safe travels, citizen,” he replied in a louder voice.

As we left the Zeta behind and entered the tunnel to the inner ring, I asked, “Please tell me you didn’t just give that creeper a woman.”

He chuckled. “No, a cow,” he answered. After seeing the look on my face, he said, “No, really. They’ve got some weird obsession with female bovines.”

“What exactly are they going to do with it?” I asked carefully.

He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

We passed within two meters of a pair of Salarian soldiers in the tunnel, and the closest one growled at us as we passed – probably on general principle. Up close, they were like monsters out of a nightmare. Huge teeth and claws, necks and tails like tree trunks. The armor and guns were really just window dressing. From what I’ve heard, this vat-grown form was a transitional species in their evolutionary line, and Salarian geneticists brought them back – with a few additions like opposable thumbs and enough grey matter that they could speak and point a gun – as terrifying shock troops.

A low growl escaped Poochy’s throat, and he positioned himself so that Adan’s legs were between himself and the lizards. Adan turned his head towards them and smiled in their faces, but they were probably too dim to see the challenge in it, because they kept on walking. Part of me wished they would turn around. The quiet, angry part that hides most of the time. That dark speck on my soul wants revenge for a dead homeworld I’d never seen. That same part that wanted Martel dead.

Suddenly, the Strokes were gone, and I heard an angry Frank Black in my head...

’Got hips like Cinderella,

Must be having a good shame,

Talking sweet about nothing,

Cookie, I think you’re,

TAME!’

“Don’t antagonize the lizards, lover,” Maxine chided, as she wrapped an arm around Adan’s waist and pulled him close. Adan turned away from the soldiers and kissed Maxine on the lips, and just like that Frank was gone. The tail-end of Reptilla came back on, and I realized that red text was flashing on my HUD. It said ‘Execute?’ I’d hacked into the nearest sonic canon without realizing it, and I’d been about to light the two lizards up.

“What the hell?” I said to no one in particular.

Adan pulled away from Max and said, “What’s that bro?” He squinted at me and asked, “Why are you all sweaty?”

I moped the sweat from my forehead and said, “Wetware error I guess,” which, by the look on my brother’s face didn’t answer the question. “Nothing, just tired and a little hung over.”

“People that belong here wouldn’t be standing around looking suspicious,” Russell said softly. “How about we make our way to the hanger deck and pick out a nice little spaceship so we can leave this god-forsaken hellhole?” He motioned with his head towards the other end of the tunnel.

We followed the big ogre through the windowless entry tunnel, and as the fire-control doors slid open and we passed through the entryway and into the inner ring, I looked up into a full visual of the daytime view of Palance. The ceiling of the station was a thin spiderweb of grey titanium, encasing about a million panels of transparent aluminum. I sucked in a breath and grabbed for Adan’s shoulder as I felt a momentary flash of vertigo. The view even dragged Adan’s eyes from Max.

He looked up and his eyes went wide. “Holy visuals, Batman,” Adan said.

“Amazing, isn’t it,” Max said. “The last time I was here I was just a kid.”

The inner ring was a big, hollow tube. A corridor ran down the middle and both sides were lined by a variety of shops and cafes. According to the map I’d downloaded, Oppenheimer owned a pawn shop a quarter of a clockwise revolution from our current position. The air smelled like grilled meat, lubricating oil and the faint hint of mildew. Both the air purifiers and the water pipes were probably well past their service dates.

“Why don’t you quit acting like a bunch of tourists and keep walking,” Russell said, barely turning his head to look back at us as he started off in Oppenheimer’s direction.

I had to hold on to Adan the first few steps until my feet felt firm underneath me. After a few stumbling steps, my brain was finally convinced that gravity was in fact still working and that I wasn’t going to start tumbling planet-ward.

“Daddy’s in a bad mood,” Adan said.

“How can you tell?” I responded.

“It’s a subtle distinction,” Max answered.

The deck was pretty crowded, and most were of the non-Terran variety. Lots of tall, golden Vox, in their impeccable suits. As per their brand, they didn’t bother looking down at us as they passed. The plight of the working class wasn’t of any apparent concern.

I saw my first Kaldonian up close, and it was all I could do not to go all fanboy. Really it was my first group of Kaldonians, since they always travel in huddled little groups. They were the only Great Race to evolve from a non-predatory species, so it makes sense, I guess. Regardless, they’re the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy, and there isn’t a close second. At least seventy-five percent of the Depository was their original work, and it was rumored that what they shared with the galaxy was only a fraction of their intellectual property. What other reason could there be that the Salarians treated them as equals rather than tools or Empire expansion food.

Salarian solders were posted at regular intervals, but they were mostly for show here on the fancy part of the station – and judging by the silver caps on their tails and dew claws, these were non-com officers rather than the enlisted cannon fodder I was used to seeing planetside. Their armor was polished and fit properly, and they definitely didn’t drool as much.

Up ahead I caught a glimpse of a slight Servine woman in a yellow jumpsuit weave between the pack of hooded Kaldonians and disappear around the curve of the hallway. I played the scene back on my HUD, with the resolution cranked up as high as my underpowered ’Seven could manage, but I never got a close enough look at her face for it to make much difference. It certainly could have been the woman that stole the record.

“I’ve got some errands to run,” I said quickly, without exactly knowing why. “I’ll catch up with you.” I mean I had to go see Oppenheimer anyway. So, what if the pretty blue girl that stole my record might have wandered off in that same general direction.

“Kid, we don’t have time for sightseeing,” Russell offered, as if I was asking his permission. I hadn’t asked permission from anyone for seven years, three months and two days.

“Bro, what exactly are you up to?” Adan asked. For some strange reason he looked like he wanted to go hide behind a reinforced kitchen island.

I wanted to tell him about Martel, but I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up. Besides, I certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with him in front of our new traveling companions in a public walkway.

“It’s important,” I said. Trying to make the muscles in my face speak for me. “I’ll explain later.”

I knew by the clenched jaw and the narrowed eyes that he wasn’t buying it, but he must have realized this wasn’t the time and place to go into it. Luckily, Maxine made my escape that much easier.

“I’d like to speak with the boys up in the flight deck anyway, just to make sure we don’t have any problems leaving when the time comes,” Maxine said.

“You want me to come with?” Adan asked.

“No lover,” she purred. “It works better if I’m alone.” He looked even less convinced than he had with me. “Trust me, the bribe will be much less if they think they have a shot. You, standing around looking all handsome and overprotective won’t help our cause.”

“That’s a good idea,” Russell said. “I’m not convinced Vance hasn’t had us followed. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Maxine answered.

I sighed. “Mitchel’s not having us followed.” Max and Russ both glared at me. “He’s actually a bit misunderstood,” I continued, barely masking my smile.

“Anyway,” Russell continued, after a few hardy head shakes, “Adan and I will get to work on finding a ship while you two are off on your little errands.”

“You really want us picking out the ship?” Adan asked.

I didn’t actually, but changing Russell’s mind was going to be tricky. I knew I had to speak with Oppenheimer, but for some reason it was the blue cat-girl that was on my mind. “I don’t care what it looks like or how nice the seats are,” I said. “It’s got to make 8C at a minimum, and I’d prefer a fission engine over a fusion one.” I knew a modern antimatter system would be well out of our price range. Adan pursed his lips and nodded in a way that made me a bit uneasy. “You know the difference, right?” Adan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I looked to Russell for help.

The big man nodded and said, “I got ya kid. Just meet us in the dock when you can.”

Maxine and I looked at each other skeptically, but Russell had already turned and was walking towards the tunnel that led to the dock. Adan shrugged and turned to follow, with Poochy on a leash a step behind.

“Well, good luck,” I said to Maxine.

“Oh, no luck required little brother,” she purred, and was off.

I shook my head as I watched her slink away, wondering if Adan had finally bitten off more than he could chew. Two dudes walked into each other, both busy staring at her backside. Men are ridiculous. That said, I walked right past the pawn shop and spent the next ten minutes searching through high-end clothing stores and brightly lit electronics boutiques for any sign of the Servine woman. I didn’t even bother trying to lie to myself that it was because I wanted the record.

But it was no use. Whoever I’d seen was long gone. On the way back to the pawn shop, I tried to find that demo of, I’ll Try Anything Once that had come on the last time I’d seen her, but it wasn’t anywhere in my library.

I was cursing quietly to myself when I walked into the shop simply labeled Pawn in gold neon. A goon roughly the size of a refrigerator eyed me cautiously as I passed through the automatic door. I had a sneaking feeling the customer wasn’t always right in this establishment. I started an active sweep with my ’Seven, out of habit more than anything else, and found an assortment of recording devices, locked safes and even a small laser turret, which was hidden in a ceiling panel. Oppenheimer was obviously security conscious.

The room contained two square glass cases that ran parallel with the door, and a long open glass counter shaped like a U that made its way along three of the walls. Behind the counter, a grey-haired man who was roughly my height but twice as wide wearing a grey and black striped three-piece suit studied a sapphire through a jewelers monocle. Inside the glass cases and behind the counter along the walls were a hodgepodge of jeweled trinkets, musical instruments, gilded drug paraphernalia and high-end mechanical devices. The man looked up from his work as I approached the counter.

“Yes?” His eyes looked tired and slightly dismissive.

“Are you Oppenheimer?”

“Yes.”

He was as wordy as his sign. I figured he would appreciate straightforwardness, so I got right to the point.

“I was referred to you by Mitchel Vance. I’m looking for a man named Martel – Paul Martel.”

He nodded and produced a ledger from a shelf behind the counter. Vance had contacted Oppenheimer ahead of time, just like he said he would. The ledger was handwritten in some sort of ridiculously complex shorthand. He didn’t even bother trying to hide it from me. The system was ingenuous actually. No one could hack the data, and he had the only key locked in his own mind. He flipped a few pages and ran a finger down some lines, then looked up at me.

“One thousand credits.”

I took a chunk out of my cash reserves and slid it across the table. He left it there and answered, “He’s in the Septanus system on Richi Station, under the identity Riker Dillon.”

I couldn’t believe it. After two years, we were on the trail again. There was only one problem.

“How do I get to the Septanus system?” I asked.

He reached down and from the same shelf retrieved a data chip, assuming ahead of time that I would need the information. The man was efficient.

“This has the coordinates to the station, as well as separate coordinates to an un-gated wormhole. Five hundred.”

I slid an addition five hundred bluebacks across the counter. And that just about drained my local currency – not that it would have been particularly useful off-planet anyway.

“He said to give you this as well,” the man said, handing me a rectangular communication device the size of a nutrition bar. It was black with a rubberized handle. “You know how to use it?”

“Sure, probably,” answered. I’d never used an entangled communicator before, but it wasn’t rocket science. And even if it was...

Rightly assuming our transaction was done, he retrieved the cash and went back to squinting at his green gemstone.

I slid the chip and the communicator into my coat pocket and said cheerfully, “Have a nice day.”

Oppenheimer didn’t look up. I left the store with a spring in my step. I was happy I guess, but that’s a weird way to describe the murderous feeling I had in my heart. Such are the complexities of the human condition I suppose.