Atlak froze, a million voices bustling in his head, swimming in his own thoughts. "Fatality!" and "Error, go back!" shot from other Unarra again and again through his mind and he was too confused to notice that the wild Pikatan had screeched to a halt and was sniffing in his direction. The ground shook violently as Pikatan and their tamers scampered all around him yet he stood silent, in an unwavering standoff with the single wild Pikatan on the hill. Two or three Unarra tamers pushed him as they ran past and tried to jolt him with by directing a burst of concentrated communicative energy toward him, but he was motionless, unshaken, lost in a trance of confused rage, and fixated on the Pikatan who was standing over the still body of Mellor, the Pikatan whose eyes reflected the same chillingly silent fury radiating from his own.

All of the other Unarra's screaming inner voices suddenly ceased and Atlak's mind's eye finally focused on the Pikatan and everything appeared pristine and clear. A single, beautiful voice penetrated through his muddled psyche and whispered, "Discord."

The Pikatan turned around and ran down the hill, out of sight. Atlak, exhausted and emotionally drained, passed out on the rocky terrain underneath him.

A Kompa. A fat, old, weak Kompa. Almost too fat and disgusting to carry its own body weight. A kill. Soon to be drenched in sticky blood and bubbling, disgusting fat juices. But no. Too easy. Too shameless. Not rewarding. This one will die because it is too disgusting, bloated, fat, sick, old, helpless, stupid, weak, and hopelessly underdeveloped to live.

It has been growing. It walks among us like it owns us because we let it live. Should we kill it? No. It does us no harm and we need not thrive on something that is so helpless and stupid.

It favors us. It sees us as masters of our domain just as it is our master. It attempts to teach us. It attempts to command us to perform tasks for it.

It abuses us. We've reached the breaking point. Soon we will destroy it. Soon there will be discord and then, harmony.

Atlak awoke from the dream troubled and disturbed. Every sense he experienced during the dream had been so real, yet so different. Yipol Jannre, a close friend of Mellor, was standing beside Atlak. As Atlak's senses began to sharpen he noticed that he was fastened down to a chair in the Emergency Court.

Jannre frowned. "You attacked a harvester who came to help you when you fell. Do you remember any of it?"

"No, I was asleep, in a dream. Did I really attack someone?"

"Three people. This is serious. Good thing you had no weapons on you, or else you would have killed them."

"Jannre, listen to me. Before I fell asleep, I think I heard a Pikatan speak to me."

"What did it say?" Jannre's brow didn't furrow, and his face revealed that he didn't believe Atlak.

"It said, 'Discord.' And then I lost consciousness." Something caught his eye that he didn't notice before. The decorative skin of a Pikatan hanging above him on the ceiling.

Jannre's brow furrowed. "Pikatan are only animals. Of course they cannot communicate, because they lack the mental capacity. Well. You're awake now, and they are expecting me to return you to the magistrate." He promptly exited and gestured for Atlak to follow.

A few minutes later, Atlak stood, in a foggy trance of disbelief, his eyes blinking quickly to keep in focus, the magistrate quietly reading off his list of offenses. His eyes floated through the blurry scene around him and focused on a statue of a Pikatan, domesticated and obedient. There was an inscription at the base, and it read, "Dedicated to the Superiority of our Unarran Nation over the Lesser Creatures of our known World."