The three of them looked over. He was standing there, blending into the crowd, his expression flat. The ranger singled him out with two fingers and beckoned him over. The Tadori pointed an innocent minor finger at himself in feigned surprise, then made his way to join us. “We will get to the bottom of this,” the ranger promised.
“Tell them!” I demanded as the Tadori reached us, “Tell them you gave me permission!”
He exchanged confused looks with the three adults, “Is the child speaking to me?” He asked in Zandri.
The ranger clicked his tongue. “Are you sure that’s him?” He asked me in Ensyn.
“Yes!”
“Is something wrong, Ranger Jark?” The Tadori asked, once again speaking Zandri.
“This… child claims you gave him permission to climb the Standing stones. Is that correct, Operator Kur’Xin?”
The Tadori, Kur’Xin, reeled back, eyes wide with indignation, mouth open in disgust, minor hands clasped over his chest. “I would never— To desecrate the resting place of my own ancestors?! How could you even—”
“Liar!” I yelled in Zandri, catching both of them off guard. “You four-armed, blue-faced Fossil! Tell the truth!”
“Lorrian!” Mom grabbed my shoulder.
“Fossil?! Did you hear that?” Kur’Xin appealed to the ranger, “How dare you?!”
“We are deeply sorry,” my mom said gravely, her fingers digging into my skin, forcing me to bow my head. “I have no idea where—”
“No doubt,” Kur’Xin cut her off with a sneer, “he learned such vulgarities from his parents.”
“Excuse me?!” My mom changed her tune instantly. “You pathetic, two-faced—”
“Rune…” Dad said in a low rumble, “Let me handle this.” Mom took a step back, pulling me into her.
“You see,” Kur shrugged with his major arms, while crossing his minors. “This is what you can expect from these humans, after all the savagery they inflicted upon us, we still let them into our enlightened society, and this is the thanks that we get. Typical behavior, truly.”
“So, you’re saying my son is lying?” Dad asked.
“Of course! The little runt is simply trying to shift the blame. Won’t own up to his own mistakes. It’s no surprise, really, considering—”
“Then, there is no reason for you to be here,” Dad cut him off. “Is there?” He directed his question at Ranger Jark.
The ranger grunted approvingly, then turned to Kur. “Thank you for your testimony, citizen. You are dismissed.”
“Are you going to fine them? You must, at the very least.”
“I said: You are dismissed, citizen.”
“As a citizen, I deserve to know how you intend to handle this, Ranger Jark!”
“And you will,” my father interjected. “By law, through the public records, just like everyone else.” He smirked. “‘We are not animals,’ after all, are we Kur’Xin of the Tadori?” He asked, citing a Tadori mantra.
Kur narrowed his eyes at my dad, holding his gaze for a long moment before turning around and walking away.
Ranger Jark gave a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turned to the three of us. “Conclude your business as soon as you can, then leave Tenybran and stay gone, at least for the next month or so.”
My dad’s face darkened. “You are banning us?”
“No, I am letting you off with a warning. Clearly, your son didn’t know what he was doing, and thankfully, no one was hurt, but you should have been keeping a closer eye on him.”
“So, why a month?” Mom asked.
“Because of them,” Ranger Jark nudged his head upwards. Several drones zipped above, lenses aimed toward us, recording everything. “Your son made quite a scene; it would be all over the news.”
It was Dad’s turn to hide his face in his hands. “Damn it to the stars and back.”
“Thank you for going easy on us.” Mom said.
“Don’t mention it… us ‘savages’ need to stick together, right?” He forced a half smile of razor-sharp teeth. My dad returned it, and we parted ways with Ranger Jark, heading back to our ship.
“Hey, Lorr?” Dad started as we were walking, some of the drones still following us.
“Yeah?” I answered cautiously. Over the years, I learned that ‘Hey, Lorr?’ was code for ‘I am about to ask you a question to which there are only wrong answers.’
“Why did you call that Tadori a Fossil?”
“Oh, eh…” I scratched my head nervously. “I saw on a holo-program that Tadori don’t like being called that.”
“Do you know why they don’t like it?”
“No…”
“Do you know what ‘Fossil’ means?” Mom asked.
“It means… like… an old rock.”
“Close enough,” Dad sighed. “You see, Lorr, Tadori live very long lives… for hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?!”
“Almost a thousand,” Mom added.
“Right, but they don’t grow old like us, they don’t wrinkle, or get a hunched back, or have their hair turn white. Instead, they petrify.”
“Do you know what ‘petrify’ means?” Mom asked.
“No…”
“It means they turn to stone,” Dad said.
“Oh,” I answered absently, then noticed that both of them stopped to look at me. They stared for a while, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. I furrowed my brows at them, turning it over in my head. Then, it clicked. “No way!”
“It’s true, and you know what else? Before they petrify completely, they pick a spot and strike their final pose. Then they have to maintain it for, oh… days? Maybe weeks? I don’t know, it’s a long process anyway.” Mom said.
“So… those weren’t statues?”
“No, they weren’t,” Dad said.
“Eww! I climbed on old people?! Gross!”
“Lorrian!” Mom scolded as we continued walking. “Petrification is a sacred thing in Tadori culture, don’t call it gross.”
“No, he is right, it is gross.” Dad countered, then directed his attention at me. “Which is why you’ll never do anything like that ever again… right?”
“Right…” I conceded.
“Berk…”
“He is a kid, Rune, there will be plenty of time to teach him all the sweet intricacies of multiculturalism when he grows up, but until then: Standing stones are gross, and he should avoid climbing them, or touching them, or coming near them. Right?”
“Right…” I conceded, again.
“Right…” Mom conceded, too.