Young Writers Society

The Independent Titan members who perpetrated the shooting at the ISTS were arrested within four hours of the attack, and the Un system’s international courts moved to decide jurisdiction immediately. So much of the event had been captured on video that Tejal and I were able to pass through the press and police without too much trouble; we were not needed as witnesses, after all.

“Well,” Tejal said in English, looking back at the crowd in the central platform, “what now?”

I flopped alongside him, fins heavy with how slow we were moving. “We could try the approach where we have lots of small investors.”

“And maybe some of the investors will be manufacturing partners,” Tejal added. “I kind of wish the reporters had been interested in asking questions that were not about the shooting. We might get meeting requests then.”

“Should we ask Ellie what places seem most promising?”

Tejal slouched in his chair, a grimace of discontent twisting his face.

“We can come up with our own list and run it by her then,” I suggested. Tejal liked to think he should not ask for assistance. Admittedly, I did not like to do the asking either, until I needed help raising my tadpoles.

This plan seemed acceptable, so as Tejal and I wandered down the floating pathway, to the platform where the Ink was docked, we tried to name cities and systems that were known for particular industries. By the time we reached the great, bulbous airport, the sky had turned a dark reddish purple, and the silvery clouds overhead were lit from below by the rainbow of gases beneath the conference complex. We had imagined conversing with the miners in Sauron and Un, consulting with a quality control advisory firm from Mao, and in general meeting with any society that might be eager to break from Spec Corp’s control over the intergalactic tech industry.

As the hangar door for our dock slid open, Tejal finished off a comment about a mass production design group on Nestor. His parents leapt to meet us, tails curling with worry, and the moment Tejal rolled over the threshold, both gato had crowded around him. Even from a tail-length away, I could hear the purrs of relief.

I remember being jealous that Tejal’s family could travel with us while mine was too large to go anywhere without much planning and fanfare.

But then Tejal’s tablet buzzed with a reply from Ellie, and I forgot to be envious. I flopped closer to the group, impatient for all of the few seconds it took for Crane to remove the tablet from the back of Tejal’s chair. I hauled myself up, hanging off of the armrests, and watched as Ellie’s face popped up on the screen.

“A call?” Tejal said in English. “That’s rare.”

Ellie laughed and fingered the ends of her long hair. “Oh, well, thanks to the generator you left with me, I got the ISTS news pretty quickly.” She changed quickly to a stern frown and asked if either of us were hurt, and how the attack affected our sales pitch.

“We were able to deliver our presentation,” I told her, “but the fair was cancelled. We have yet to hear from any interested investors.”

Rubbing her temples, Ellie sighed. “I almost wish things were still like the old days. Before the trials started, at least Independent Titan was on a leash.”

“How are those going, by the way?” Tejal asked, eyes still trained on the subtitles that scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Adding that to Mouthbot’s repertoire had been an excellent decision. “Most of the news outlets have been pretty quiet about the whole thing.”

“Most of the news outlets are restructuring in preparation,” Ellie said, a resigned smile curling her lips. “But seriously, if you two are not getting investors, I can pull some strings for you.”

I would have happily accepted help. Ellie’s endorsement carried weight in every part of the known universe, after all. But I understood that Tejal wanted to make it without her. We would be stronger then, if something were to go wrong on her end, and Ellie had already given so much.

Lips pursed, Tejal took a long moment to consider the wording of his answer. “It might be safer long term if we aren’t associated with Andra-Media.”

“True, true.” Ellie returned to grinning and threw her arms wide, as though she might try to hug us from behind the screen. “But anyways, you wanted to know how the trials are going?”

It is common knowledge now, how the trials went, and how dramatic each dip and turn was, but at the time, Tejal and I always worried about whether Ellie’s lawyers could hold out another week. As she spoke of juries and evidence and market manipulation, I listened in riveted silence with the rest of the Ink’s crew.

Ellie finished that summary with a brief comment about how hard it was to keep to the story her lawyers wanted. She wanted to write a book or a poem about it all, but she was not supposed to release anything to the publicfor the time being, in order to keep the jury neutral. This she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes, and then she looked back at me and Tejal and crinkled her eyes in a wistful smile.

“I know I said I was going to come back to you two right after this mess with Andra-Media ends,” she said in her native tongue, to make sure that Tejal and I received the news at the same time, “but I think I want to attend university after this is all over.”

“Seriously?” Tejal gasped. I could not decide if he was proud or disappointed, though when we attended Ellie’s graduation, his wide-eyed stare was definitely born from pride, so I will extrapolate and assume he was pleased about the announcement.

I felt my gills flutter in the excitement. “Good for you,” I told her. “We will miss you, but we will still cheer you on.”

- A Rough Translation of Focci's Ballad