Next, we have Chicaner. Below is an extract from the novel about her.
“Open it,” ordered Chicaner to a guard next to her with a wave of her hand. The guard unlocked the door with a key card and the door slid open. Chicaner's lazy purple eyes veered about at the cell before entering it. Alia slided down and sat on her bed with her back rested towards the wall. Chicaner walked towards the right wall of the cell and leaned her back to it with her arms folded.
Chicaner has always been visiting her throughout the years. She would visit her once a month. Occasionally she would skip a month or two and told Alia on her next visit that she was busy.
“How are you doing?” said Chicaner as she adjusted her long black jacket that rested on her dark blue uniform.
“I'm fine,” replied Alia.
“You're growing up pretty quick,” said Chicaner, “your records show that you are fourteen years old now. You really have blossomed into a pretty young girl.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, you are the only girl on this planet who has green eyes, and that's real novelty.” Chicaner peered at Alia and then said, “Aren't they going to cut your hair? It's touching your shoulders and it's starting to curl up.”
“I don't want to cut my hair, I like it like this,” said Alia as she stroked the back of her own hair.
“Don't get me wrong, I like your ginger hair, it's nice,” said Chicaner as she cocked her head, making the frontal sides of her straight brunette hair, which had tips that would touch her shoulders, hang away from her temples. Alia found that her hair was gradually shorter in length towards the back of her head. Her hair must have been cut by more skillful hands than those inside the prison institute. “But you have to look neat, understand? Cut your hair.”
Chicaner holds a prominent role in the female government. The following shows her in a middle of a negotiation.
Chicaner stared at Zealon sternly. “I know what you people really want. And I can assure you that I will take whatever steps it takes to maintain Lutiga under our control. If it wasn't for us, Lutiga would have been under the Migallen government. And that government is not as tolerant as us.”
“You and your government took Lutiga by force, not to liberate us, but to gain the rich resource of petroleum there!”
Chicaner stood up and slammed the table. “We permitted men to stay in the area, we did not drive all of you men out!”
“No, you did not drive everyone out!” Zealon stood up. “But you did discard all the males from any form of power in the city!”
“That's normal practice! We can't let people under the influence of the Migallen government---”
“Then how about allowing the men to take control now? Or how about the women who are Believers? Women too have been relief of their position in the local government the minute they decided to convert into a Believer!”
“I don't trust you Believers! All of you people are just corrupting the minds of our people!”
“Corrupt?! The real corruption here is---” the female Believer next to Zealon stopped him. Zealon looked away from Chicaner and closed his eyes. Then he turned his attention back to Chicaner with his orange eyes open. “What will it take to make you understand?”
Chicaner felt the momentum of the argument slowing down and decided to return to her seat. She crossed her arms. “Make me understand? That's wishful thinking.”
As the preceding excerpt shows, Chicaner has a way with her country's people. She's pretty decent with foreigners too, as the following paragraphs shows how she handles some young male tourists from the opposing facton.
When Chicaner was inside the elevator to press her desired floor, she felt something was ajar with the buttons. To her horror, all the buttons of the floors had been activated. She felt herself incandescent with rage. “Those immature wayward rascals,” snarled Chicaner as she clenched her fists. She turned and flicked a switch on her luggage to halt it. “Hold this lift for me!” ordered Chicaner to the other lady. She stalked out and approached the group that was retreating from the elevator. The whole group were wearing waist length cloaks, a current popular casual wear among the young. They looked like mushrooms waiting to be plucked.
“Hey you!” shouted Chicaner. One of the boys peered behind to look. “All of you male rodents!” shouted Chicaner again which made the whole group stopped and turned to look. Good, thought Chicaner. That got their attention. “Who do you think you are to do such a thing to me?!” said Chicaner with the appropriate hand gestures.
“Hey, chill woman. What's the matter?” questioned one of the rascals.
“One of you children pressed all the buttons!”
“Oh, that,” said one of them, who had a spiky yellow hair. A smirk ran across his face. He stepped forward. “I did that. Why? You got a problem with that you old rag?” he continued with his arms spread wide, carrying his waist length cloak along with his upper arm.
“Old rag?! I'll show you,” said Chicaner as she gave him an uppercut at the stomach that made him whimper. He bent down in pain as if giving her a bow. Then Chicaner jabbed him on the face. As his head sprung sideways followed by his trunk, Chicaner clenched his cloak and pulled his back towards her. She grasped his neck around her arm. She made a quick glance around to see any of the robotic skeleton guards were around. Only the boy's friends were there, watching in stunned disbelief. “You're coming with me,” whispered Chicaner as she dragged the rascal back to the elevator.
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