"Lucky - Part One" by Victoria Lee Hobbs

Orcs are without a doubt the most frequently misunderstood race remaining in this modern era.

Dr. Jonah Cowles put down his pen and stared at the mostly-blank paper for a long moment, wondering exactly where to go from that statement. This was the hardest part of starting a new manuscript - getting past the first line. Once he had a few sheets of paper filled with writing, it would get much easier.

He was writing a new start to a draft that he'd been working on for months, now, ever since he'd learned about his new assignment. He'd made about five false starts so far and none of them had quite worked right in his mind; they had been either too clinical or too emotional, not the balance that he felt he needed to strike between the two extremes.

Normally he would've been in bed by then, or at least ready for bed. But he was waiting to hear from the Institute for Cross-Species Studies concerning his new position. He - out of a pool of over a hundred sociologists and developmental psychologists - had been chosen to study the first Orc-Human crossbreed to be found and recovered in twenty-two years. He'd been a student back then, and had hoped feverishly that he'd have the chance to be assigned to one in this manner. He would be the primary researcher, studying how the boy acted, what sort of behavior he exhibited as he grew into a young man, what sort of Aptitudes he had, and most importantly, how likely it was that he would be able to thrive in human societies.

He'd been called to start in five days' time, but he'd sent them a note asking if he could come to the Institute and start as early as tomorrow. They had promised a response by that evening. He felt certain that he'd be approved, but he still stayed awake with an anticipation he hadn't felt since he'd been a boy himself, staying up the night before his birthday so that he could get his present as quickly as he could.

Still, he thought, he really ought to try to be productive while he waited. He shook his head, brushed a strand of dirty-blonde hair out of his eyes - he'd have to get a haircut at some point, most likely - and put his pen back to the paper.

They have been abused and dismissed for generations, he wrote quickly, wondering if he'd be able to understand his own handwriting after he was done; he tended to write very messily if he didn't take his time. Still, the words had to be written quickly, or else they'd run dry and he'd end up where he'd begun. They have been maligned and mistreated on a scale that few other species have been forced to endure. We must begin to understand them, or else our own hatred of them will fuel still more anger and misunderstanding.

Most of the antipathy regarding orcs and their culture is expressed in harmless, if pervasive ways - caricatures and cartoons that use them whenever an oafish or violent character is needed, unflattering views in popular literature, even frightening antagonists in fairy tales. However, the damage that these things do is lasting, and can lead to more violent explosions of hate and intolerance. As an example, allow me to relate to you the tragedy in the orcish hovels near the city of Shaletown, which occurred approximately three and a half years ago today.

The orcs that camped around Shaletown lived in much the same way as most orcs lived, surviving off of what they could scavenge from the city. They ate anything that wasn't totally rotten - and even that was ignored when one of them got hungry enough, really - and hoarded things that they couldn't or wouldn't use, for no particular reason. Of course, like most orc settlements, they never actually attacked anyone in the city. They were afraid of the crowds, and lacked confidence in their ability to perform a successful raid.

True, they did wander the side streets late at night, never committing any crimes - the anti-violence and anti-theft enchantments kept active in the city would have prevented it even if they'd attempted to do so - but merely searching for anything that they could eat or use. But they'd left the city-dwellers alone. Most of the settlers there had been routed out of other settlements by rivalries and other infighting, and only wanted to live quietly. They'd hoped that not bothering others, living only off of scraps and the like, would keep them out of trouble.

For almost two years, they lived there unmolested. Almost every major city - and a lot of the minor ones - had its share of hovels, the orcish ones among them. In most cities, Shaletown included, they were protected by laws that prohibited city-dwellers from bothering them. The general consensus was that since the cities themselves were protected, they had no right to harm the people who lived outside of it, unless of course they had made a habit of setting up ambushes beyond the city barriers for the townspeople. This was certainly not the case in this situation, as the orcs there only wished to live and let live.

Unfortunately, there are always people in any city who dislike living side by side with orcs and other "lesser" beings. Statistically they tend to be members of the lower middle-class. They are almost always male, and consistently lack status amongst guilds and churches; they typically lack the ability, magically or otherwise, to earn Marks or Forms from most of the standard Guilds. Most of the time, this sort of resentment is shown through relatively harmless actions - graffiti, vandalism, that sort of thing. Most humans don't like to go too near the orc settlements for any reason, even to attack them; the smell is enough to turn their stomachs most of the time.

But there are always exceptions, and Shaletown happened to be one of them. It was the site of one of the most brutal and senseless attacks perpetrated against orcs by humans. There had been about nine of them, all full humans, all from the lower castes of the city - not the poverty-stricken, but the ones that hadn't had the money or intelligence to buy or earn any sort of distinction for themselves. They'd come to the hovel just before sundown, armed with simple weapons - daggers, clubs, that sort of thing - and a few simple enchantments that had probably cost each of them most of a month's pay. The strength-draining enchantment, especially, had most likely cost them dearly. Most wizards wouldn't give anyone such a dangerous power without at least some assurance that they weren't going to go out and use them for some illegal or immoral purpose. Still, there were always some that just didn't care, and a few that hated those hovels as much as those men had.

There were forty orcs in the small settlement, one of the smallest to be found around a large city. But they were asleep, and succumbed quickly to the enchantment when the men were nearby. One can picture the grisly scene quite easily. The air was full of gurgles and gasps from orcs who were too weak to scream. There were a few abortive attempts to attack the men, and one of them succeeded - a man who had been too poor to afford the anti-projectile spell took a carelessly thrown knife in the chest and quickly bled to death. But far more orcs died than men, in gruesome and violent ways. Most of the men of the settlement were murdered outright. Children were occasionally spared, but most were also killed, since the attackers knew that small, relatively cute orcs would eventually grow up into hulking idiots that might somehow remember their attackers.

Most of the females were spared... although not out of altruism or chivalry. There were only eight females in the settlement; male orcs outnumber female orcs in almost every situation. Every single adult female in that settlement was raped at least once by those men, as they lay there under the influence of the strength-drain and could not fight back. Had the officers of Shaletown not arrived when they had, they would have surely killed them as well.

Sex between humans and other humanoid species - particularly ones that are considered "inferior" to humans - is a taboo subject in many human societies. Any one of those men would have attacked anyone outright who had ever even suggested that they would engage in such things with an orc female. However, the men viewed their actions as a sort of war, and the rape as a release of tension. They were in complete control of the situation and took full advantage of it, they would say.

At any rate, the attacks were not viewed kindly by the Shaletown legal system. They were not accused of murder - a charge that by definition only applies to humans and other beings classified as "intelligent" - but they were given the maximum punishment that could have been given for such a crime. Each of them were imprisoned for five years, as were the wizards who had sold them the enchantments. Perhaps more damning were the social consequences of their actions; the authorities attempted to keep certain details about the attacks quiet, but the full story eventually got out. Those men will find themselves outcaste once they are finally released from the carefully regulated prison society, turned away by their fellow men because of their violation of one of their most forbidden deeds.

The few surviving women and children of the orcish settlement left Shaletown as quickly as they could, making for the mountains where their kin still lived. Contrary to popular belief, orcs will almost always put aside feuds and rivalries to care for members of their species who have been uprooted and attacked by natural disasters, or any other forces that could not have been predicted or fended off. These orcs were no exception, and were well cared for by their kin.

However, a few of the females left their new home a few months later. We cannot know whether they were turned away or voluntarily left, but we can say with confidence that their attackers had impregnated them. The most likely scenario is that they left in order to conceal their pregnancy from the rest of their kin.

Many members of both species are unaware that orcs and humans can interbreed as easily as humans may interbreed with elves, dwarves and other intelligent humanoids. And a number of humans that are aware of the occasional birth of half-orc children believe that they mostly occur when human women are attacked and impregnated by orcish criminals. However, this is a misconception; children with orc blood are much stronger than pure human children, or even other hybrids. There are few human females that are capable of carrying such a child to full term without suffering permanent damage to their reproductive systems. Most of the orc-human hybrids on file, then, were born of orcish mothers, conceived in situations similar to that unfortunate incident in Shaletown.

Because they are half-human, and because they usually serve as a painful reminder of a brutal attack, the babies are usually killed as soon as they are born. Most mothers, we believe, stay in their homes and permit this without argument. A relatively small percentage of mothers choose to leave their settlements in order to protect their children, perhaps due to maternal instinct.

We do not know the fate of all of the mothers, but we do know that one of them was found in the mountains about twenty miles from Shaletown, dying due to injuries sustained during childbirth. The baby, a strong, healthy boy, survived. That was where we intervened.

It has been decades since the Institute for Cross-Species Studies has had a orc-human child to study, for obvious reasons. Finding the child was a boon for him, but also for us. Now we can finally begin to

The comm-wand beeped, quiet but shrill, interrupting him in mid-sentence. He scowled at it, mildly irritated at the intrusion, then picked it up and pressed it to his forehead. Dr. Cowles here, he thought, hoping that his irritation was not too obvious to the person on the other side. What can I do for you?

Doctor, this is the Institute," the secretary said, sounding tired and distracted. The Board has decided to let you start working early, as you've requested. They want you to come in tomorrow morning, as early as possible.

Wonderful. He smiled. That at least made the interruption worthwhile. I'll be there. He put the crystal down and leaned back in his chair. It would be tomorrow, then... he'd be busy for the next few days. Life would be hectic, and the work would be hard, but he had every reason to believe that it would be very rewarding.

He looked down at his manuscript and smiled. It wasn't bad at all, one of the best he'd done so far - maybe not so much suited for a prologue, but he'd find a place for it. True, it rambled on a bit. The writing was rough and choppy; he could spot more than a few minor errors, and a few overly abrupt transitions. Still, it was just a first draft, and he'd have ample time to clean it up later.

He'd written such books before, but this would be his masterpiece, and the most important thing he'd ever worked on. His goal was to strike a blow against the tangle of prejudice and misconception concerning orcs and their culture. He wanted his book to do what Children of Stone had done for the trolls. And starting from tomorrow he'd have some fresh data for his work. He'd seen pictures of the little boy, but meeting him in person would certainly be a treat.

He stood up and walked off to take his nightly shower, humming to himself. He was cold as soon as he unfastened his robe, being tall and rather strung-out, and immediately stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water.

I already know what I'll call him, he thought as he lathered his hair, thinking of the innocent, black-eyed little boy that he'd meet tomorrow. I'll call him 'Lucky.'

[5/15/04]