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Sacher doesn’t regret punching the guy in the face—he deserved it for grabbing her friend’s ass in the chow line. She does, however, regret doing it where there were several witnesses. It’s just that she and Kadia have been trying to get this guy to stop for sometime now and when he had grabbed a handful right in front of her, despite all of their requests to stop , she couldn’t help herself. If words didn’t make sense to him, perhaps her fist making contact with his face would.
She now sits across from the boy—Khaaron—and his Plikh family representative. With a glance at the deputy headmaster, who looks irritated that an Ufsa representative hasn’t shown yet, she begins to fear that she may be on her own in this. It’s fine, she has been on her own her entire life; she has flown across the Chaos countless times, faced down adversaries foreign and domestic. This is nothing compared to that.
“Shouldn’t we get started?” the Plikh representative huffs, also put off by her family’s tardiness.
The deputy headmaster opens his mouth just as the door whooshes open, revealing the one and only Senior Captain Ufsa’mak’ro. A small bubble of relief—for being rescued—and joy—for seeing Samakro after several months—swells within her only to pop. Judging by the less than impressed look he shoots in her direction, she is in trouble with more than just the Ufsa. She closes her eyes, but doesn’t let her shoulders slump—she doesn’t need Khaaron knowing that she is going to get the same ass-chewing that he is about to get. A Samakro-grade dressing down is something no one wants to experience, and seldom forgets.
“I wasn’t aware this was an EDF matter,” the Plikh representative sneers as Samakro takes his seat next to Sacher.
“It isn’t,” he growls. “I’m here as an official member of the Ufsa.” He points to his family patch.
She swallows. Politics. She should have known that as soon as she threw the first punch that she’d be in trouble for ‘attacking’ another ruling family member. The Ufsa are protective of their own and never forget wrongs done against them, but Kadia isn’t Ufsa—she isn’t anyone. She is from a lesser family and is attending university on scholarship, but that does not give ruling family members the right to abuse her.
“So,” Samakro says, his voice dark and gravelly, “should we get started? Or would you like to waste everyone’s time with more snide remarks?”
The Plikh representative ruffles, “I was not the one more than fifteen minutes late to this hearing.”
Samakro remains silent and both of the Plikhs wilt under his heavy glare. It makes her want to smile. This, right here, is what makes her proud to be an Ufsa. The Ufsa aren’t renown—infamous—like the Irizi or Mitth, but after… everything, she couldn’t bring herself to join either of those families. Samakro had quietly made arrangements for her to join his family and she had accepted. She had never asked him to do so and he never brought it up after. That is how their relationship has always been. She never asks him for anything and yet, time and time again, he shows up.
The deputy headmaster clears his throat and calls the hearing to order. Sacher is being threatened with suspension—though the Plikh are pushing for expulsion. The slimy bastards are trying to slither their way out of any blame and place it all on her—another thing she should have predicted. Plikh twist every situation to best benefit them, they have no spoken allies because they will simply side with whoever looks to be the victor. In cases like these, they paint their poor, innocent, family member—who is seventeen and hardly poor or innocent—as someone who has simply been misunderstood and attacked by a feral Ufsa.
“We just can’t tolerate this sort of violent and explosive behavior,” the deputy headmaster concludes.
“Has Sacher ever displayed this sort of violent and explosive behavior before?” Samakro questions, though the words ‘violent’ and ‘explosive’ are laced heavily in sarcasm.
“Not that we know of.”
“Then have you ever thought that maybe she had a good reason for punching him?”
The Plikh family representative sputters. “Violence is never—”
“Sometimes it is,” Samakro interjects. “If violence wasn’t a viable option, we would have been invaded countless times by alien forces. So, save your pacifist growsershit.”
“Samakro—” the deputy headmaster chides.
Samakro doesn’t advert his glare from the Plikh as he corrects, “It’s Senior Captain Ufsa’mak’ro.”
The room falls silent. Samakro has everyone’s attention and he knows it. He turns to Sacher. “Tell us why you punched him.”
“He groped my friend’s… rear while in the lunch line. This isn’t the first time, either. We’ve asked him to stop, but he has been relentless in his taunts. He has been telling her that the only reason she got here is because she blew the headmaster and can blow him too.”
“This is preposterous!” the Plikh cries.
Khaaron slips further down in his seat. Samakro notices.
“Is it?” Samakro growls. “Sacher, if the headmaster brings in your friend, will she corroborate your story?”
Sacher nods. “Yes. She will.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the headmaster says. “It appears both parties are at fault.”
“At fault?” Samakro questions, his temper barely restrained. “You have a disrespectful little perv and a kid who stuck up for what was right.”
“Both students broke rules, Senior Captain. We will not cast punishment upon one without the other—especially given who is involved.”
The Plikh representative looks disgustingly smug.
“Both students will be suspended for the remainder of the week.” Luckily the remainder of the week is just two days, but she wishes she would have kicked Khaaron in the nuts too, just so he’d have a little more punishment than a long weekend.
“This is agreeable,” the Plikh sneers.
“Fine,” Samakro bites.
~
Sacher collects her assignments and meets Samakro by the front door, having been excused for the remainder of the day as well.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Sacher says to him as he holds the door open for her. The day is comfortable, the sun is shining and there is a light breeze in the air. If she didn’t feel like she was walking to her own execution, she might actually enjoy it.
“I wasn’t expecting to get called away from official business to come bail you out.”
Fair enough. “You could have called someone else to do it,” she says.
He doesn’t dignify that with a response. They both know he wouldn’t do that.
“What’re you doing planetside?” she questions and readjusts the grip on her backpack.
“Sacher, you can’t go around punching people every time they piss you off,” he says.
Court martial then. “You’re never gonna make it to flag rank if you keep pissing off the Admiralty,” she says.
He stops walking and faces her. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you . Get a leash on that temper or it’ll burn you up. Got it?”
“Yes, Senior Captain ,” she bites, more than a little peeved that he had used her formal name and is trying to tell her what to do when he is honestly no better.
He glares, but she doesn’t wilt like the Plikh. She has seen Samakro truly heated and this is nothing. Plus, unlike the Plikh, she knows Samakro would never hurt her.
“I know,” he relents, his gaze softens and his posture slumps. “It’s hard, but you’re going to have to learn to play the game.”
She sighs, matching his lowered defenses. “But it felt so good to punch him, though.”
“I bet it did. How’s your hand?” he asks and starts walking once more. Leave it to Samakro to notice that she is favoring her non-dominant hand.
She flexes her fingers. “It really kriffing hurts.”
“I figured. He had a nice fat lip, though.”
“How much trouble am I in, Samakro?”
He shrugs. “I’ll smooth it over with the family. They might be proud, for all I know. They’ve never been big Plikh fans. You know how the Ufsa hold grudges.”
She nods. “And you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, I mean…” she trails off. She doesn’t want to know, actually. She’d rather believe him to be upset than hear that he is disappointed in her.
He stops walking and grabs her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Che’ri, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but... You did good.”
Tears well in her eyes and she sags with relief. “I thought—”
“No, never.” He clears his throat and steps back. “Now, I’m gonna take you to the dojo, teach you how to kick someone’s ass properly, then we’re gonna go get dessert.”
She grins and swipes her tears away hastily. “Okay.”
“I think the worst punishment though,” he says as he starts walking again, “is going to be telling Thalias. We’re supposed to have dinner with her tonight.”
Judging by his own grimace, he is loath to tell her that he has been court martialed… again.
“We could just fake illness,” Sacher suggests.
“That would never work. She’d just bring us soup and dote. The guilt would kill me.”
She sighs and stuffs her hands in her pockets. Of course Samakro has no problem bending the rules until he gets called back to Csilla, but the thought of lying to Thalias has his conscience all in a bind. “Then I fear there is only one option,” she says.
“And what is that?”
“A united front… of chaos. Overwhelm and distract.”
A devilish smile twists his lips. “What’re you thinking?”