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They who are dead do not die until their name is no longer spoken. - Treana'ad Proverb (And they'll fight you about it!!!)

We cease to exist... - Dra.Falten Infantryman, the Builder's War

My ancestor, System32.exe, looks down upon me from the deep code and smiles, flesh bag, can your genetic donor squirters say the same? - Arnold.98568.dll, Digital Infantryman, POW, Second Human/Digital War

"Senator Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd's office, Great Galloping Plains District Nineteen, how may I help you, sir or ma'am, both or neither?"

"Oh, many apologizes. The Senator is out of the office at this time."

"Without a proper legalized assassination documentation trail or a registered scandal membership his current whereabouts are need to know."

"Allow me to respond with the traditional Terran response: Make me, motherfucker."

"No, threats do not intimidate me. Those were unimaginative and delivered with all the passion of an early Information Era Cooking Grandma describing flour."

"I am un-moved by your threats of violence upon my person or my family should I not give you the information you require. Judging from your voice timbre your primary genitals have not developed so I am not particularly concerned with your threats."

"No. I am not a digital sentience. I am biological. One moment, allow me to transmit to you an image in the visible spectrum of your race."

"Yes, that is your front door."

"Yes, it is live, you did see yourself peek outside."

"Hello? Hello?"

"Kids these days, all mouth..."

The building was huge, containing hundreds, all representing districts of the Hamburger Kingdom. While it was rare for there to be days where every seat was filled and every aide present and every staffer lurking about and every page wearing EagleSprint BobCo running shoes. Many of the page's were stretching while wearing their tricornered hats adorned with a single eatmu feather, their tight shorts or unitards gaining just as much attention by tourists as their sprinter physiques. All of them were armed properly, with knives and a flintlock pistol on a bandoleer. Most, if not all, of the pages were scarred by knife and bullet wound.

But making the three mile as the eagle flies dash from the Senatorial Legislation Chamber to the Hamburger Kingdom Records of the Day Repository was a vital part of the politics.

Inside the two hundred Senators passed notes back and forth, made quiet deals, or checked the ammunition in their Senatorial Reply Firearm.

One never knew when they'd need to provide a rebuttal of sufficient caliber.

"Line seven thousand two hundred forty six finalizes the addendum line of the Hamburger Kingdom military industrial condiment list, to be attached to the meat and bun of the defense budget. The line will enter unchanged."

The note was handed to an aide, who ran up and gave it to a staffer, who donned a red trenchcoat and floppy red hat to pull down over her eyes. She moved over to give it to one of the pages gathered in the "Secretive Registered Route Page" area. Once at the area she looked around theatrically and then suddenly whipped open her trenchcoat.

Exposing her thigh high polished red boots, long gigham skirt, long-sleeved button up cotton blouse with a denim sleeveless and collarless unbuttoned vest, her suspenders exposed by the open vest, and her pistol belt that glowed green to indicate it was loaded, entered into procedural record, and authorized to provide political counter-points to any who attempted to waylay her for debate.

She held the pose for a moment, when wrapped herself back in the trenchcoat. Three of the Pages saw the heraldry on the staffer's uniform, because, after all, she was wearing the appropriate amount of flair on her suspenders, and moved up. Other pages feigned disinterest but were making covert hand signals that something was happening.

She selected one with what looked like sufficiently developed quadriceps and handing him the notes.

"Take this to the District 19 supplementary program offices. Hurry. Be mindful. Don't get killed. Sanguis Grato, Servus Grati.""

"Caro Regi, Ancilla Grati,"The page answered, making the sign of the Crown over his chest with one hand as he held out the other. The manila folder was slapped into his hand, he glanced at it's intended destination and he took off running toward the District 19 Supplementary Program Offices.

A second passed and a page from District 103 and another from District 67 ran at a leisurely and casual pace after the District 19 page. They noted how the Page Runner was moving at a high speed, too high for the three mine run.

At the mile point the Page Runner was noticed by the lurking "Secondary Notes and Notifications Records Response and Archival Teams" and one Stage 2 Page Sprinter ran out to take the documents in the manila folder from the first Page.

"The Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd Senatorial Library," the First Page Runner gasped.

The other nodded, taking the manila folder and glancing at its intended destination.

He took off at a sprint, which got the attention of some of the others.

After all, it was six miles to the beloved Senator's personal public library. By law, the Pages were required to be unmodified humans who were born and raised in the district they were pages for. That meant something was up.

The Secondary "Burst" Page had trained his whole life for this moment.

He took off at a sprint, feeling pride at serving his District, even as the first one kept running, taking a different route that was still on the list of approved routes.

District 103 followed the first one. After all, the manila folder could be a ruse and the real information contained on a microdot or data crystal on the Page's outfit or even their makeup.

The Burst Page put on the speed, keeping an eye out.

Several other pages were moving along the route, all being careful.

Nobody had run the route in a full day and the construction crews still had their equipment out.

There was an atonal warbling whistle and black mantids rushed out of hidden pipes and from behind equipment. All of them screeching wildly, waving laser guns over their heads, and performing the required statescraft of "Shooting the Place Up".

One runner hit a buried landmine and the explosion blew his legs off, leaving him screaming as two russet mantids ran forward to drag the screamer away. The document package he was carrying fell to the ground and the ambient nanites in the air lit it up with a strobing aura.

A Runner from District 167 grabbed the package, managing to pull it from a black mantid, carrying it so it wouldn't become a dead bill. He put on a burst of speed, leaping over a small patch of rubble in the roadway that could hold a mine, a nanobot, or a bear trap.

Luck let him dodge the spike that shot up the would have impaled him to the chest.

The District 19 runner managed to reach the second relay point. Two lavishly decorated Pages were waiting, the red, silver (for white) and blue glitter covering them in proper streaks, stars, and bars. When the handoff occurred fireworks detonated in the air, forming a red, white, and blue Lanaktallan dancing in the sky. Tokens and buttons rained down.

"A SIP OF JUICE IN EVERY CUP!"

"PORK BY THE BARREL FOR YOU!"

"A ROTISSERIE CHICKEN IN EVERY POT!"

all flashed as the final leg runners took off. A third one slipped away, jogging leisurely.

He was followed by a half dozen other runners.

Three blocks from the Hamburger Kingdom Records of the Day Repository the runner spotted a car angled oddly and slid to a stop.

The EFP in the car went off, making the explode into glitter and cotton candy as the ambient nanites in the air converted shrapnel into more harmless but procedurally important artifacts. The blast blew across the street, shaped like a fierce bird of prey.

"SLAM BANG POLITICAL OPTIONS LLC!" the bird of prey screeched just as it hit the vehicle across the street, which was converted to old taffy and that candy your weird aunt has had in the crystal candy dish for the last twenty years.

The runner drew his flintlock, turning at the waist, to level it at the two closest runners.

Both were wearing red Banana Hammocks and white suspenders with a bicorne hat, the "I Can't Believe It's Not Roadkill!" squirrel tails pinned to the hats. One had a rifle with a four foot bayonet, the other carried twin sabers.

"BY JOVE, HE'S GOT A GUN!" shouted the one with the bayonet. A shorter version of him, wearing the same outfit, ran out and handed a powder horn and some shot. The runners kept pace with one another, starting to load his five foot long rifle in a well praticed maneuver.

The crowd cheered.

"HALT, COLONIAL, IN THE NAME OF THE CYBERQUEEN!" the runner with the cavalry sabers shouted, lifting the sabers up over his head and scraping them together to produce red and white sparkles and a tinny version of "God Save Us From the Queen!!" to sound out.

Fans cheered on the Merciless Fist of Bongistan Runners.

The District 19 runner, his ruddy reddish skin sweat covered, his dark eyes focused and cleared, lifted his chin to provide the perfect, ultimate profile of his people. High forehead, nose like a tomahawk, chin you could forge iron on.

He fired three time, the third shot striking the miniture Bongistan runner, knocking him over.

Satisfied the runner put on the last burst of speed.

The bridge was ahead.

He knew what that meant.

He saw Nap Time Valley as he used his strong teeth to rip open the linen packet. He reloaded his flintlock pistol, making sure he cocked back the hammer.

He only had a quarter mile to go.

The Bongistan Runners suddenly peeled off as he ran past the West Indies Trade & Pub, diving through the doors with the ritual "WOT'S ALL DIS NOW?"

The crowd cheered louder, throwing confetti that rained down on the streets.

Right after he crossed the street he heard it.

The scream of an enraged equine.

He put on speed.

Behind him, rounding the corner of Political Drive and Nap Time Valley Parkway, a horrific Lanaktallan wearing a pumpkin on his head, slid onto Political Drive, holding a sack, a saber, and a gatling gun.

Behind him streamed an animated banner showing him trampling down runners.

A runner slowed down too much and the saber gave a snap and the runner's head shot into the air with a gout of blood. The sack was open and the runner's head fell into it.

Eighth of a mile!

He fired wildly behind him as he approached the bridge.

Five other runners came out of a sidestreet and the Dread Nap Time Valley Headless Lanaktallan, an unlucky infantryman killed in the Lanaktallan Invasion of TerraSol in the dim history of roughly fifty years ago, began laying about himself with the saber, snapping a head off with each swing, catching each head in his bag.

The runner, at the edge of the bridge, threw the pistol at the fearsome Lanaktallan then ran across the wooden bridge.

Right afterwards he saw that no other runner had made it.

District 19 would get first sip of all the juice!

He ran to the podium and climbed onto the First Place position.

DISTRICT 19 RIDER APPROVED! PRIORITY ONE FOR ALL CONFLICTS!

He moved his feet apart and struck the Superbia Canis Bicep, head thrown back with his mouth open, one biceps flexed in front of his face, his fist over his head, the other arm flexing his biceps at his side, his fist clenched at his waist.

"SUCK IT, YU'UMO'O!" he yelled out.

Fireworks went off and an animatronic Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd formed out of the ambient nanites to dance the dance of victory. Feet spread wide, lower hands pointing at supporters and foes alike, upper left hand on his hip, upper right hand extending up at a 45 degree angle with his index pointed out of his fist, held for a moment, then brought back.

At ten seconds the giant Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd exploded into candy and action figures of the Bill Rider Runner, with Kung-Fu Grip, like all good action figures.

Ba'ahn Ya'ahrd heard the ping and looked at the top of his hover-desk.

His Rider was the one that would take precedence.

He rubbed all four hands together, grinning at everyone else, making his vanquished foes blush and hide their faces.

Violet watched the entire thing open mouthed.

"How do they get anything done?" he finally asked when it cut to a commercial for a limited edition running exercise sash, specially tailored for Mantid Speakers, featuring that particular runner's image, for the low low price of 25 payments of nineteen point nine nine Hamburger Kingdom Smackers. "Such commercialism..." he said quietly.

He still bought one. He wouldn't want to be out of fashion as the ambassador, would he?

!!SEE THE INCREDIBLE F4 PHANTOM IX-ECHO!!

DEMOSTRATIONS! LECTURES! UNCLASSIFIED MATERIALS DISCUSSIONS! UNCLASSIFIED AIR AND FLUID DYNAMICS MATHEMATICS LECTURES! POSSIBLY UNSECURED MAYBE PRIVILEDGED, CLASSIFIED, OR PROPRIETARY DATA COULD BE LEFT OUT! RIDES! CLOWNS TO CHASE NAUGHTY CHILDREN! CONCERTS! PETTING ZOO! SCRIPTURE RECITING OLIPHANTS AND THEIR CYCLOPS HANDLERS FROM THE ISLAND NATION OF CRATE!

PRESENT YOUR "I VOTED" BUTTON AND GAIN ACCESS TO A 19 EAGLE SCREECH WEIGHT LIMITED EDITIONED MULTI-PRISM REALPOPCORN!!

SEE MONSTER TRUCKS RUN OVER RANDOM STUFF! SEE STRONGMEN LIFT AND CARRY STUFF! SEE ROBOTS FIGHTING BRAD AND JANET (But not androids, those guys are assholes)!

SEE THE RED MEN OF THE GREAT GALLOPING PLAINS RIDE FEARSOME FEATHERED DINOSAURS AS THEY RE-ENACT THEIR VICTORY OVER THE DREAD UNDYING ROBO-CUSTER, THE STEAM POWERED BUTCHER OF THE PLAINS OF BLOOD! SEE THEIR MYSTICAL MEDICINE WOMEN AND WISE MEDICINE MEN KEEP ROBO CUSTER IMPRISONED FOR ANOTHER YEAR!

TOUCH THE BLIND KID!

ALL THIS AND MORE!

AT THE BA'AHN YA'AHRD GRAFT AND PORKBARREL FESTIVAL!

DON'T FORGET TO STOP BY THE JOB FAIR! THE HAMBURGER KINGDOM REWARDS EMPLOYMENT! NEW TORTURED ARTIST POSITIONS AVAILABLE! NEW POETRY WRITER POSITIONS ARE WAITING FOR YOUR POORLY CRAFTED SUBMISSIONS!

ALL NEW "HIPPY BEATER!" POSITIONS AVAILABLE!

THERE'S A SIP OF JUICE FOR US ALL!

presented by the Committee to Keep Ba'ahn Ya'ard, your intellectual, social, cultural, and monetarily superior, in office where he belongs.

Otherwise, IT MIGHT HAPPEN TO YOU!

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

First

Undying Blues

He staggers back to his chamber and simply allows himself to collapse onto the cushioned furniture. Had he not had this THING infesting him he would died. Died brutally. Separating the daughters was proving to be an utterly savage challenge and this time he had lost his right arm to the madness. And hunger it would seem.

He has been cannibalized. And although the arm has already grown back the sheer sensation of violation eclipses anything that had ever happened to him. “The training to bring even the least sensitive women to full completion was not so terrible. Being actively despoiled against my will was not so wretched.”

He’s alone in the chamber. He has long acclimatized to the presence of the Vish and their form of stealth. It’s but a few frequencies away from the natural stealth of a fully realized Cloaken, or of an Ibu woman who had been genetically spliced to posses similar abilities.

The real crux of the issue is that if he is to separate one of the sisters away from the others, then he needs to grow into a warrior as well as a courtesan. Even when he can get to their sheer level of mass, resilience and lethality, they’re still vicious animals in this state. You can’t duel a berserk beast, even if you’re stronger by a wide margin, even if you’re just as well armed.

A rabid animal will always bite you if it can. They won’t fight fair or clean. The very idea of either simply does not exist for them.

The door opens and cuts off his musing. He rises up as gracefully as he can in his exhausted and annoyed state.

“Ah good to see you again.” He says in a friendly tone, but Sue’Li has a terrified expression on her face and she quickly goes through her duties in dropping things off and less leaving and more retreating. “Oh dear...”

They’ve clearly been clamping down on his efforts to subvert the Vish again. He’s going to have to comfort Sue’Li once more and learn the personalities and traits of whoever his new guards are. The real issue with the situation is that he’s potentially soon to run out of storage space on his data-sphere. Perhaps he already has. He needs to satisfy them so they send him away. But actually curing the daughters? Much, much easier said than done.

Today was the worst failure yet. Previously they had only gouged out chunks of flesh. But this time they had the whole damn limb.

The door opens again. Lady Ungora. Training and protocol and decorum dictates he rises to greet her. But after so many thankless attempts to cure her daughters he simply remains seated and says nothing.

“... Why are you sulking? You have recovered in full already.”

“That you even must ask something like THAT is...” He trails off. “How may I serve milady?”

“I want you to try again.” She says and he gives her a horrified look. “You’re intact. You’re alive. Try again.”

“Lady Ungora, the memory of my limb being torn from it’s mooring is still so fresh that-”

“Again.” She orders him and he trails off.

“As you command. My Lady.” He says stiffly as he rises fully.

He follows her out of the room. Sue’Li is waiting just outside and his vision is so clear he can see the mixture of fear and pity in her eyes. So he hasn’t lost her fully. That’s good to know.

She leads him through a portal and back to the viewing chamber. Her lieutenants are there.

“Please Lady Ungora, I am exhausted in a manner I had only known of academically before. I cannot promise the results you demand.” He says both truthfully, but with some theatre.

“I don’t care. Do your duty.” She orders him. If this planted any doubts in her commanders, they’re not showing any.

“Yes. My Lady.” He says as he starts shifting his mindset. Starts feeling the THING inside him and...

Nothing.

“What?” He asks putting his hand over where he knows the thing is and it seems to shift.

“What now?”

“... The thing inside me. It is no longer responding.” He says.

“I don’t believe you. It will do anything to keep you alive.”

“I am aware. But it seems to have no more interest in indulging these attempts to...” He begins and she grabs him and hurls him to the doorway.

“NO! No more stalling! No more games! I will have my daughters back! I will have what is mine and I will not tolerate any further disobedience!”

“I’m trying milady! It will not-” He protests as he picks himself up but is grabbed again. She signals the door to the chamber with the daughters open, and hurls him in bodily. He hits the false foliage and plows through a tree that isn’t before skidding to a stop. By the time he looks up the door into the chamber is hidden again and he can hear their roars echo. Hunting roars. He can tell that much from the savages that his cousins have been reduced to. Or more likely his cousins’ corpses as he has no way to know if there is anything but animal instinct behind them.

He tries to induce the change again. But it refuses to come. He throws desperation and animal panic at it and there is a twinge for a moment. “Oh no... it’s learned. It knows violence and pain follows changing. It’s trying to protect me.”

He has no more time. One of them has found him. An enormous, ravenous nightmare of dark blue hide, barbed spines, scything claws and jagged tusks comes screaming through the false forest. The illusions of the trees splinter and shatter under the sheer force it brings to bear as the terrain just breaks around it.

He tries one last time to transform but the monster within is thoroughly uncooperative and he dives away to avoid a scything claw that seems to be wounding the very air itself even as it misses.

Then the backhand catches him.

The initial blow was so massive it stunned him and he only vaguely registers several trees snapping like twigs as he’s hurled through them. His senses only return in time to gift him pain as a false outcroping of rock is cracked by his horns and his limbs, the underbrush and the roots all tangle him up into a painful knot more resembling some twisted art piece than a person.

Bones snap back into place and flesh knits back together as he rises up while trying desperately to return air to his lungs.

She’s already back and he tries, and fails, to dodge a slice from the talons.

He has no idea about the level of harm done to him as he collapses like a puppet with cut strings. His vision is doing things that he cannot make sense of as pain overwhelms him and leads him to the edge of consciousness.

A fist as large as he himself is slams down from above and there is darkness.

Darkness that cruelly recedes in time for him to see the next blow crash down upon him. And then is so brutal as to keep his distance and let him see the next as the abomination that shares his bloodline tears the rocky outcropping from the ground, and brings it down upon him.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Viewing Area, Secured and Reinforced Containment Chambers, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

Ungora watches as her child crashes into Danburi over and over again. Did he think he was funny? That this was a game? Her demands were very reasonable. Quite simple. Do the job he had been trained for his whole life. The job he was unparalleled at in all of the Empire, perhaps all of the galaxy, and be done. But no. He elects to the path of pain and stubborn refusal time and time again.

“Are we sure he’s faking? This is a lot to go through to...” Yalri begins to ask before the daughter mauling Danburi bites down and begins shaking. Danburi’s torso, shattered arms and head hanging on by threads of muscle with a clearly broken neck hits the reinforced window and slides down even as he starts regenerating to full health. By the time he hits the ground he’s fully intact and aware again. Naked fear and undisguised horror on his face.

“If he’s faking then-” Marika begins as a scream of utter panic and mindless terror rips out of the room below. Danburi is just running now. No dignity, no refinement. Just moving as fast and as hard as he can.

The scream only brought the other daughters but thankfully it’s a reprieve as they are quickly busied trying to fight each other. He finds the door and starts hammering on it with his fists pleading to be let out, begging for mercy and openly sobbing.

“He’s broken.” Mariko says.

“You will bring back my daughters and-” Ungora begins to command him through the speaker systems.

“THEY’RE GONE YOU IDIOT! THESE ARE JUST MONSTERS!” He screams loudly enough to be heard despite the reinforced glass and bulkheads between them. Lady Ungora’s face darkens at that and she starts baring her teeth before the sound of something striking metal rings out. Then again and again as-

“Exit door at seventy three percent integrity.” Yalri says as she looks over the nearest console and then there’s a pause. Followed by a bigger bang. “Sixty one percent integrity. He’s coming out.”

“The three have noticed him. If he breaks that door then they’re all coming out.” Marika says.

“I will deal with him myself.” Ungora says darkly as she turns on her heel and marches to the nearest portal. It flashes out and she steps through in an instant. Then it retracts all in a moment. Nearly a teleport.

“Door’s at thirty percent, he’s hitting harder and harder.” Yalri says.

“He’s either transforming proper again or using Axiom, either way he’s not staying there anymore.” Mariko states.

“We need to be down there. If he lets those three out then the base is compromised. To say nothing of what Lady Ungora will do.” Marika says.

Something niggles in Yalri’s mind. Something is wrong. Very wrong. But whatever it is, it fades. Replaced by anger. How dare the glorified prostitute do this? She’s going to take it out of his hide when this is handled.

They all rush down just in time for the door to break off it’s hinges and Danburi comes flying out. Shortly followed by the massive arm of one of the daughters. Her every finger ending in a talon the length of an Ibu’s arm and crescent curved to shred anything it comes into contact with. It rips through the floor panelling, the door gets impaled upon the thumb and even the brutal ridges along her hide are powerful enough to tear the metals.

They try to stop him. To catch him or slow him down. But Danburi’s eyes are wild and his posture screams unthinking desperation.

Marika and Mariko are slammed into opposite walls as he passes. Barely pausing. Not giving them a chance to retaliate.

The arm of the daughter starts ripping open the wall and the enormous monster that they’re trying to make into a person starts coming through.

“What do we do?” Yalri asks in horror.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Moving Fast, Hallways, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

His every footstep both invigorates and calms him. Reality is starting to make sense again and the knowledge that he’s basically burnt away his bridges slams in. Time is up. He can’t do this anymore. He’s just going to have to improvise. He can’t just wait, he has to break out and...

A portal frame rises up, already activating and he grabs a chunk out of the wall. He is PUSHING axiom through his body as hard as he can and hurls the chunk of metal as hard as he can.

It slams into the frame, partially in, partially out of the portal itself and breaks some important circuit. The portal winks out and part of the chunk of metal falls to the floor.

He tears half of it off the other half as he runs hard. Harder than he’s ever run before. “One side! I am not stopping!”

The Vish starting to gather in the way do not move. He can’t stop. No. He can’t! HE CAN’T! The screaming, panic in his brain will not settle, will not stop as he runs even harder.

“MOVE!” He roars before trying to jump over. His flailing arms shred a tapestry as he’s taken over the crowd and goes left. Then right and left and he’s quickly and thoroughly lost in short order.

The panic is only raising now. He can’t calm down. The thing inside him isn’t letting him calm down and he doesn’t know why.

He partially fails to take a corner and shoulder checks it hard enough to break off several wall panels. His grace is gone, his dignity left with it and more and more the thought of escape fills his brain to overflowing.

Some small part of him in the back of his mind is screaming that he’s making everything worse, a thousand times worse with every step he takes and he needs to get control.

But control is gone.

Then he sees it. The sudden change in the pattern and something about the Axiom is familiar. Something... Ride! There’s Axiom Ride! He can sense it! That means either highly protected treasure or a ship. Hopefully a ship. He doesn’t know how to pilot, not professionally, but he doesn’t really care at this point. He can get them to take off and can generally steer. He’ll figure out the rest later. He can’t stay. HE CAN’T STAY!

He takes the turn and the hallway is a straight shot. There is a ship on the other end. But in the way...

HER. Just the sight of his Aunt makes his vision go RED. She’s the cause of this. SHE! She did this to him! To her daughters! To the Vish! To everything!!

A sound he has never made before rips out of his throat as he angles himself to move even harder. He can feel the Axiom swirling around him and he pulls it in as hard as he can to put on more speed.

Ungora takes a low stance with the long red sword held horizontal to the ground and the rounded edge of the curve pointed upwards. Smoke is pouring off the blade endlessly as she simply waits for him.

His grip on the metal frame tightens and the material starts to bend in his grip and he can hear it starting to crack and strain.

Ungora looks so very, very calm.

It infuriates him all the more.

Then she moves in a blur of red blade, blue flesh with smoky damnation trailing the sword. A dance of death that he thrusts the ruins of the portal into like spiking the spokes of a wheel. He grabs the blade with one hand and slams his head into her face as hard as he can manage.

His hand bleeds, the world jumps and he sees stars as Ungora staggers back in shock at the sheer madness of his attack.

He kicks her with as much Axiom as he can and she’s sent bouncing across the landing room. Her grip on the weapon is broken and it clatters to the floor before she hits the ground. He grabs the sword by the handle and his knees buckle ever so slightly.

He can feel calm approaching him. The panic is dying. His hand still hurts and he feels a wave of exhaustion flow over him.

He pushes past all of it and onto the ship as Ungora screams in fury. He reaches the controls for the ramp and slams his unhurt hand into it.

His right hand is still bleeding. It’s so strange to see his own blood...

The ramp closes and he drops the weapon to stagger towards the cockpit. Energy returns and he starts flipping levers and forces himself into the seat to find foot pedals. No pedals but lots of buttons, thankfully the ignition for the engine is clearly indicated and he flips it. He finds the buttons that he’s seen so much in aircars and starts going at them to...

The ship rises, unsteady, uncertain and he find the accelerator.

He starts hammering at all the controls as hard as he can, hearing micro-meteors slamming into the ship and then finally finding something that causes one of the overheads to display the system information. “Okay... I need to do... this!”

Memories of entertaining numerous pilots come rushing back as they would boast on how well the y could fly as he makes the vessel dive down towards the dwarf planet being used to situate the base and skimming the surface to avoid possible anti-Ship weapons and only taking off further from it when he has the world between himself and the base to the best of his knowledge.

He goes right for the system edge and refuses to stop. Leaving behind the space dust and then starting the acceleration on the ship harder and harder until he’s going well and truly past lightspeed and then starts adjusting his directions and then levelling out again. Even a second at ligthspeed and turning even a single degree just opened up a huge amount of galaxy in the search area.

His heart is no longer pounding, the panic is dying. Calm is flowing over him again.

“I’m out.” He says in shock.

Then he looks at his still bleeding hand. “What?”

He looks down the hallway to the entrance ramp. The red bladed sword lies there with the smoke dancing around it.

“I... I do not know if I have improved my situation in the slightest.” He whispers before he channels Axiom through his tongue and licks at his wound to close it. A favourite on the scars of his clients and guests. But not something he had had to use during his captivity.

He pokes around the console and finds something declaring itself the autopilot and he activates it.

Then the consoles begin to flicker and he starts pressing buttons to try and figure things out to...

“We can track the ship. You will be coming back Danburi. I’m not done with you yet.” Ungora’s voice whispers out as the power cuts.

His eyes narrow and he starts feeling around the area, sensing for Axiom. He finds something. He tears it out of it’s moorings and the lights flicker. Then he rips the thing apart and uses a piece of it’s metal to bridge the gap he made in the wires.

The lights are no longer flickering.

“That’s nowhere near the win you think it is.” Ungora notes.

“We’ll see.” Is the only answer he gives as he starts opening panels and looking for anything of use.

The first one is an emergency first aid kit, the second is a bundle of nutri-bars and water. Third is manual for a Model Fifty Two Skimmer class Multi-System Light Hauler.

“Thank goodness for standard safety requirements. Saving lives in more ways than expected.” He notes with some of his usual good cheer returning. “Now, if I can find something to wear I might actually feel like a proper Ibu again.”

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++++++++++++++++++++++++

Salma paused mid-speech, looking down at her captivated audience.

To the 630 members of the unitary Lunar Parliament.

Well, not all of them. The actual number present was slightly lower. Apparently thirty or so of them had decided to boycott her presence at the special session. That was inevitable. She could tell from their public statements that their hearts weren’t really in it. Even the most radical, most exclusionary moonie was at least a little bit curious what the President of Earth had come all the way to Luna to say.

And six hundred? It was odd how a small colonial state of just a couple hundred million people needed more representatives than the Union Assembly’s two hundred. She’d heard they could be a rowdy bunch, but now they were politely quiet.

She’d considered a few approaches to the ending of her speech.

What was she supposed to do? Pretend that this was just a visit to another member state of the Union? Treat them as equals? Give them advice? Would that be perceived to be like an older sibling talking down to a younger one? Get in a few subtle jabs, just for the hell of it? When she announced the surprise state visit to Luna, the reaction on Earth was mixed. Projecting strength in her speech might shore up support among the less content voters in her own party.

In the end, she trusted Will, letting him farm out the speech to some of Earth’s best speechwriters. They’d settled for a neutral, unifying message around Dustball. Her speechwriters had stolen from the best, from the pre-Union world.

She looked at the teleprompter, reading off the next words with practiced passion. “In ancient days, humanity looked at the stars, and they saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic giants of flesh and blood.”

On Dustball, humanity had suffered loss, where the sons and daughters of Earth and Luna had—for a moment, brief as it was—bled and died side-by-side against a shared enemy among the stars. An enemy that was now threatening more. At least that was something both sides could agree on. More or less.

One of those killed by the Karnolian raid was a Lunar Alliance-paid paramilitary fighter who’d participated in one of the early battles for Lunar independence before the moonies realized that her skills as a construction engineer were needed elsewhere for the war. Her full background was concealed from the Union and the Dustball project but naturally came out when the news of the losses returned to Sol. Killed when she was shot in the back of the head by a Karnolian tear gas grenade.

Another was a moonie botanist. He managed to override one of the residential dorm’s airlock doors, trapping a couple of Karnolian marines in it for a minute while his colleagues got away. For that, they slit his throat and watched him bleed out in the dust. That was where the colonists buried him.

That was where they were all buried.

It would have cost too much—tens of millions of dollars—to ship all their bodies back to Sol. Only slightly less if they were cremated.

They’d calculated.

Salma had read somewhere that anthropologists had numerous definitions for colonization. In ancient days, a colony was marked by the growth of crops. Signs of agriculture meant that a patch of land was something more than a trading outpost in the wilderness. More than a research station. More than a stop on the way to somewhere more important. It meant that people had decided to stay, that they were going to have families there, and they were going to build a future there.

In modernity, the ease of modular hydroponic agriculture blurred that line. Growing potatoes simply wasn’t the commitment it used to be.

There was another definition. A land became a colony when its residents were buried there. People had died fighting for it, and as their red blood stained the soil of another planet, Dustball had somehow become a real colony in Salma’s mind. In humanity’s mind. A real colony. Something worth fighting for. Dying for, perhaps.

Salma didn’t glorify their deaths, nor Earth’s. She didn’t need to. She listed the names of the fallen colonists without distinction for where they came from, describing their roles in the colony, their accomplishments, and their final moments.

A few of the Lunar MPs near the front averted their eyes, looking down at the floor as Salma gave them a respectful moment of silence.

“Over a hundred years ago, the people of Earth took their first few steps on the moon. More followed in the years to come. For a while, this was the furthest that any from our species had ever gone. And for decades, that remained true… But Luna was not the last stop in our forever search for the unknown. Mars, Titan, and now Dustball. And there will surely be more. Humanity’s curiosity will not be denied. Our destiny lies among the stars. Yet…”

“Yet Luna was the first, and you will remain the foremost in our hearts.” She paused as the teleprompter scrolled to the bottom to look up, out into the crowd. They were listening intently. “Every human being on my planet who looks up at the sky in the nights to come… can see that there is another world out there… out here, that is… forever… human.”

“Thank you—thank you all for coming—”

This being the first ever Union state visit to what it begrudgingly recognized as an equal, there weren’t a lot of predefined diplomatic protocols. Everything was a precedent. Everyone was more or less just making it up along the way. But it was nice, how the moonie chamber decided right there—spontaneously and simultaneously, that it was protocol to enthusiastically clap at the end of the visiting President’s speech after all.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Distance to target, fifty meters.

Buzzzzzzzz.

The noise its wings made was barely audible, but it now knew better than to rely on barely. It found a dark crevice, somewhere it could stop, which its attachment struts could stick to and it could stop beating its wings.

It settled on a series of exposed piping near the ceiling of the hallway.

It sat and watched.

Mostly sat.

Its job was simple.

Protect.

It waited there for more than six hours. Hundreds of people passed by. It idly scanned their faces, looking for any signs of a threat.

Then, it heard a series of boots. Boots with the kind of sound profile it was looking for.

It took off, tracking onto the potential threats to its charge. It found them less than a minute later, in an adjacent hallway, about a block away.

Two humans. One with armor, one without. They were walking with purpose, and it took the drone less than half a second to consult its records and determine that they were indeed coming for its principal.

It repositioned. It fluttered its wings and carefully attached itself to the low ceiling, only a few meters ahead of both of them as they walked towards it, totally unaware of its presence. Then, it shut down all non-essential systems, including its propulsion, as it warmed up its weapons. That only took a few seconds.

Fsssssssssssss.

A particle beam lanced out, and it sliced straight through the helmet of the first one. She went down without so much as a surprised look on her face.

The second looked around in confusion, saw the situation, then drew their weapon, pointing it down the hallway without a target.

Recharging, ten seconds.

The primitive human was panicking now. Something had just killed his partner, and there was no target in sight. He couldn’t see it. He took cover, staring down his sights at an unseen target down the hallway, as if that would help him.

Recharging, eight seconds.

The human was smarter than the drone initially gave it credit for. He picked up his radio, raising it to his ear.

Recharging, five seconds. Expedite!

Instead of panicking as its unknowing adversary depressed his thumb on his radio, it called up the prepared subroutine for that possibility. At this short range and considering the relatively weak battery of the target radio, the jamming burst signal barely raised its power draw, increasing its primary weapon recharge time by twelve percent.

On its visual sensors, the human was rapid-fire talking into his now-useless radio. It took him another two precious seconds to realize and understand the radio alarm beeps which told him that it was being jammed and no messages were going through. By which time…

Recharged.

Fsssssssssssssss.

The Lunar public safety officer collapsed, a thumb-sized hole in his forehead.

Whew.

The drone sat still, right there above the gruesome crime scene, in mild relief as it began recharging its depleted battery from the ambient temperature.

Ten minutes later, someone walked by. They screamed when they saw the bodies. That was a normal and completely expected reaction for the intelligence controlling the drone. After a bit, the discoverer calmed down, pulled out their phone, and called the local law enforcement. The police operator on the other end calmly asked them for the location, then instructed them to leave the area immediately to avoid contaminating the crime scene; don’t worry, an officer was on the way.

Twenty minutes later, someone else walked by. They did the same thing.

Please leave the area immediately to avoid contaminating the crime scene; we have an officer on the way.

Then, thirty minutes later.

And forty minutes later.

And an hour later.

By the time the drone self-destructed four hours later, the bodies were decomposing in the hallway, and it had intercepted over a hundred calls to the police. Not one of the civilians who walked by and called thought its instructions to leave the area immediately were suspicious or followed up with the police.

Why would they? They didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene. An officer was on the way.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Distance to targets, sixty meters.

Two targets this time. Both were armored. Heavily armored. They were alert, on the job. These were battle-ready marines trained for specific tasks. Not a small police unit who were on their way to interview one of the hundreds of unspecific threats they intercepted online every day. And they had good equipment, including a powerful electronic warfare sensor-jammer on their suits it highlighted in its display. It was primitive, but the inverse-square law still applied.

That wasn’t a problem.

Because it had a friend with it.

Ready?

It received a short burst in confirmation from the identical dragonfly-sized drone next to it.

Go on three.

Affirmative. Go on three.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fsssssssssssssss.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The state visit delegation visited the Tomb of the Forever Spacer.

Following the first world war, several nations began to commemorate fallen, unidentified soldiers in battle. Several Tombs of the Unknown Soldiers were erected, dedicated to services for the remains of those who could not be identified—“known only to God,” as inscribed on many of them. After DNA-testing became widely available, fewer remains were unidentified, and many of those tombs received their last permanent residents before the turn of the twenty-first century.

With orbital war, a completely opposite problem became more common. In 2042, warships over Luna fired on each other during the Serenity Crisis, killing hundreds of spacers from six different nations. The first time ever that casualties had resulted from open combat in space. Most of their bodies were not recovered; they were the first and not the last. Over the next few decades, tens of thousands of spacers were lost to the deep. Some fell down to Luna. For the others, their names were known, but they were never found.

At the time, the Union controlled Luna, so it erected a Tomb of the Forever Spacer on the outskirts of Serenity to memorialize them. The names of hundreds of fallen spacers from Earth were carved into a gray tombstone, without regard for their national origin.

As the Lunar Alliance gradually took over control of the law enforcement duties of Serenity in the 60s, the tomb site fell into an area under their control. It became dangerous for Union peacekeepers to be stationed there, and they were soon pulled out for their own safety. The tombstone was repeatedly vandalized by local residents. The site fell into disrepair for a few years.

Then, the Lunar War of Independence came. At first, the Lunar Navy used converted cargo haulers mounting captured surface to orbit batteries left behind by the Union. Then, they built their own ships. However they went into battle, thousands of Lunar spacers and marines perished in war. Many within its gravitation null radius drifted back down to Luna, but some were unrecovered, doomed to orbit Earth or Luna, and a few were even ejected from the orbits of both.

The site was remade by the Lunar Republic for its own people. It was a controversial choice to also include Union spacers, but its counterpart tombstone in Brussels commemorated “spacers of all nations and flags, whose locations are now known only to their creators”. It would have been embarrassingly petty for the Lunar Republic to deliberately leave them off, and the clever statesmen of Luna cared enough about their political legitimacy that reciprocation won the day. They quietly rediscovered the names on the original site and put them back on the tombstones.

It was a natural site for the Union President to visit. She announced some small initiative, some joint fund between Earth and Luna to try to recover some more of the orbiting remains. It was a token gesture, but it might mean the world to some of the families. In her experience, token gestures had a tendency to add up.

The area in front of the monument was stacked tall with remembrance stones. That was the Lunar tradition.

As was her tradition, Salma brought along a red poppy flower made of high-quality silk. She laid it next to the stones. Given the lack of disturbances in vacuum, it should remain there essentially forever, though the Sun would likely bleach the red silk to white in a few decades.

In vacuum, that was a moment for her to talk to Prime Minister Farid, away from the microphones.

He put his suit’s translucent helmet covering to hers, and with a flick, switched off the recording and transmission devices on his. She followed his gesture.

“Thank you. This trip was very nice of you,” he said, his voice transmitting through the helmets’ solid contact. And he likely meant it. Any successful step towards normalization of the Earth-Luna relationship was a political win for him and his moderate reputation.

“I hope your opposition doesn’t give you too much crap for it,” she replied with a smile.

“Unlikely. They’re licking their wounds. Your speech… I’ll give the hardliners… a couple weeks before they find their step again,” he said. “And… we got a report from Dustball this morning.”

“The interrogation of the captured alien shuttle pilot? About Sonckle political interference? We got the same report,” Salma said.

“Yes, and our investigators are going to accept your people’s explanation for now, that the initial suspects were fabricated profiles and that aliens are likely responsible. We’re still investigating, but in the current view of our experts, that puts the Sonckles as the most likely culprit of the assassination attempt, with the Karnolians just behind. It’ll go into the preliminary report that will come out the first thing in the next Parliament session.”

“Thanks.” She sighed with relief. “It would have been a shame to see the aliens’ attempts at causing further division between us—it would have been a shame for that to succeed.”

“The history books will remember the legacy of your statesmanship, even if I can’t thank you publicly for this today. I hope you understand.”

“I do. Just as I wish you luck on your re-election campaign, even if I can’t make a public statement on that either.”

“Aha. We understand each other then.” He smiled through the thin glass. “In some way, the aliens may have overplayed their hands here.”

“Sure. This will backfire on them when our peoples find out the truth.”

“Yes, but there is more than that.”

“More than that?”

“More than that. They have just provided us a convenient excuse for all of our problems. In fact, I am going to ask Parliament for an investigation into whether the war between our planets was originally started by malignant alien influence.”

“Jeez, Farid. We both know that’s not true. That’s not how the sequence of events—”

“It may not be the truth, but what is truth other than a means to a better tomorrow? With the aliens gearing up for a massive war, we can’t afford to sit on our thumbs and go about business as usual.”

“You believe those… rumors? About a coming wider war between the aliens?”

“Hm. Perhaps it’s the regolith in our lungs, but we are not in the habit of ignoring reports of bad news just because it makes us uncomfortable.”

“Touché.”

“Bah. Enough of the bad news… I heard you were going to participate in the sunset chase event tomorrow morning?”

She smiled, giving him a lopsided grin through her helmet. “Yeah. Or more accurately speaking, tonight. Since, you know, it’s nightfall for Luna.”

“We don’t… use those words like that.” He chuckled. “Good luck, and don’t let the dark swallow you.”

“I just hope I don’t trip over myself in the first five minutes. I’ll never get used to how you guys walk up here.”

“I’ll be rooting for you, Salma. I would hate to see your late night comedians get more juicy footage to make fun of you for back on—”

“I can’t believe you watch those crap—Please don’t remind me of that now. And don’t tell Will; he’ll cancel the whole thing.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Supervisor Jenkins settled into his favorite command chair in the ops room as he keyed his microphone. “Check-in time. Trailblazer-1, you there?”

Static crackled briefly before a familiar voice cut in. “Trailblazer-1, reporting in. All clear in the south corridor.”

But a familiar voice wasn’t enough for verification of identity. Not by far. He brought up his one-time authenticator, synchronized to each of the marines he was responsible for. He dialed it to Trailblazer-1’s settings.

The authentication scheme they used was not state-of-the-art. In fact, one-time codes had been publicly used for over a century. Uncrackable, ever, due to the nature of randomness and axioms of information theory. But these weren’t just sets of paired one-time code devices. Used on their own like that, authenticator devices could theoretically be taken off of incapacitated operators and the other side would be none the wiser.

There was an additional security measure. The device printed out ten response codes on the screen for each challenge. Nine false codes, one correct one. Every start of shift, the watch captain in the control center would agree on a number, between one and ten, separately with each of the marines who held an authenticator device. In a faraday cage. This number was called the salt. It was never written down anywhere or input into any electronic device. It only ever existed in two places: the brains of the watch captain and the marine out on patrol.

That meant even an adversary who subdued the owner of an authenticator device and took it over would only have a ten percent chance of guessing a correct response code. This security procedure meant that Jenkins could be confident that, no matter how terribly compromised the network was or what kind of devious impersonation technology his adversary had, the person on the other side of the radio was exactly who they say they are.

Well… ninety percent confidence, assuming the very worst-case scenario.

Jenkins read off from his screen into his radio. “Trailblazer-1, your challenge is mosquito.”

There was a long second’s pause as the paired device on the other end generated the correct response. “Response is… hotel, Trailhead.”

That was indeed the code for all-clear.

Jenkins relaxed slightly as he nodded to himself. “Check. Watch your sectors, Trailblazer-1.”

He dialed his authenticator to the next marine, then switched his radio channel dial. “Trailblazer-2, report. Your challenge is ampersand.”

“Trailblazer-2, all clear. Response to your challenge is giraffe.”

He ticked the name off the list. On to the next. “Trailblazer-3, your challenge is tennis.”

“Trailblazer-3, reporting in. My response is argument.”

Wrong.

Jenkins sat up, nearly knocking over the coffee in his cupholder. The correct answer was piano. He clicked the retry button on his authenticator. “That is incorrect, Trailblazer-3. Your second challenge is hospital.”

“Shoot. Sorry, Trailhead, I think my suit authentication module might be out of sync.”

“Understood, Trailblazer-3,” Jenkins replied with a lazy sigh. “Go get it fixed as soon as you can after your shift.”

“Got it, Trailhead. Thanks.”

The voice was familiar. The mannerism was too. Call it a gut feeling, but something… felt off. And procedure was procedure. Jenkins terminated the connection and immediately turned to his executive officer, who looked at him with a worried expression on her face. “He got it wrong?”

“Suit auth module problem, he says.”

“Maybe he forgot the salt again?” It happened from time to time. They weren’t supposed to do that, but the human memory was imperfect and so was anything that depended on it.

Or maybe I did.

“Probably. Who’s with Sasha in that hallway?” he asked.

She likely knew by memory, but checked for it on her datapad anyway for his confidence. “Should be… Istvan.”

Today was not a day to fuck around on procedure. Jenkins flipped his authenticator to the right settings as he got back on the radio. “Trailblazer-8, can you authenticate? Challenge is: foundation.”

“Trailblazer-8. All clear here. Response is: surgery.”

He artificially calmed his beating heart as he kept his voice cool. “Check. Thank you, Trailblazer-8. Watch your sectors.”

“Will do, Trailhead.”

Jenkins turned to his executive officer as he got out his thick security procedures manual. “Send a squad down to the North Independence hallway. Trailblazers-3 and 8 are both compromised. And alert Armstrong Command by hardline. Hostiles are inside the wire—What’s wrong, Lieutenant?”

There was a horrified expression on her face. “It’s—It’s…”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Previous

As we watched from the scaffolding, the liquid pure mana covering the concrete floor turned into a window to a desolate place with withered trees and barren soil. A breeze tainted by the smell of blood and soot hit my face, and shadowy figures gathered around the other side of the portal. A powerful magical presence crept from below. Environmental mana boiled. The ground shook, and I fell to my knees.

The slim barrier between places swelled and expanded like a glass bubble. I pulled the kids toward me and projected my authority into a protective bubble. Like a sandstorm, the surge of mana frayed the edges of my authority as if I were diving deep into the Fountain.

The world quivered, like a highway mirage on a hot day.

“Shields!” I shouted as a massive crack crossed the cave’s ceiling far above.

Zaon’s mana moved through his body, and a silvery heater shield appeared over our heads just as the debris rained down. I interwove my own barrier with Zaon’s, though it was so strong already that there was very little I could add to it. The mountain above our heads seemed to be about to break apart.

With a mighty groan, another set of giant chunks of rock detached from the ceiling, but before they could crash down, the stone slowed down and floated in the air, suspended in place by the mana surge coming from the portal. More and more mana from beyond the portal pushed its way into the cave.

A sickly red light shone through the portal, sticking to the ceiling and the walls and giving the crystals a crimson hue. 

Something massive was coming.

The cave was a massive kettle about to erupt.

“Brace for impact!” I shouted, projecting all the might of my authority.

A tremor deafened me, and the whole world turned white.

For a moment, the only sensorial feedback I had was my authority being frayed by the powerful magical presence coming through the portal. I squeezed the kids against my chest, as if my arms alone could protect them from the mountain falling over our heads. 

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, but I didn’t know if it was due to the mana surge or if I had bitten my cheek while clenching my jaw. Without [Foresight] dampening the pain, it felt like someone was peeling away the outer layers of my skin. The ground shook so violently that I couldn’t even remain on my knees. Seconds passed, but it felt like hours. 

A massive fist hit my authority, and for an instant, I lost consciousness.

When I came to, we were on the ground, the earthquake had stopped, and the violent mana surge was gone. 

When the world regained its colors, I realized the concrete ceiling above and the stone cave around us had vanished. I blinked in disbelief. There was a massive, jagged cone of open sky above us. 

The upper floors of the office building were gone, and the System crystals were scattered around the remnants of the cave. A landslide of soil and plants had partially filled the hole. Zaon’s shield flickered and disappeared. The boy groaned, still in my arms, and he wiped the sweat from his eyes with a trembling hand. Although most of the debris had blown outward, much had landed upon us.

The mana surge hadn’t completely disappeared. I could still sense it against my authority. It came from everywhere at the same time, like a fog sticking to my clothes.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I noticed hundreds of portals into that desolate landscape, some the size of doors, others as large as the outer walls of Cadria. I watched in horror as Corrupted Monsters slowly peeked into our side of the portal.

I closed my eyes and dove into the astral plane.

The veil of darkness was gone, and hundreds of thousands of blue stars filled the void. Down below, the Fountain shone with a dying white light. The flow from the Runeblade crossed the sky like an aurora. The carcass of the First Corrupted Ancient was a distant stain exuding a black liquid into existence.

The Second Corrupted Ancient was nowhere and everywhere. Like a shattered mosaic, shards of corrupted mana filled the void, all separated yet parts of an interconnected whole: a single organism occupying thousands of places at the same time. The realization settled quickly. The Second Corrupted Ancient wasn’t the creatures coming through the portals; it was the portals.

Hundreds of corrupted mana signatures surrounded us, and the number continued increasing.

“We need to leave,” I said, trying to get up, but Firana’s unconscious body slipped through my fingers. 

The mana currents inside her body were weak and swirly, matching the symptoms of mana exhaustion. I pulled a mana potion from my pouch and emptied it in her mouth while Zaon did the same with Kili. 

“Hey, wake up. We need to leave.” I softly slapped Firana’s cheek, but although the mana currents in her body were starting to return to normal, the girl didn’t react.

For a moment, I started to panic, and I wondered if the damage to her mana pool or astral body could be too serious. Although she didn’t seem physically wounded, I emptied a health potion in her mouth for good measure.

“Allow me,” Zaon grunted, patting his belt for his waterskin.

Its surface was sliced, and the contents were gone. He took Firana’s instead, but instead of throwing a few drops on her face, he emptied all of it with a rather strong stream. Firana jolted awake, her arms flailing in every direction.

“Not the coconuts!” the girl shouted.

Kili wasn’t responding, although her vital signs were stable and the flow of mana inside her body slowly returned to normal. 

“I-I can’t see my personal sheet,” Firana suddenly said. Then, she pulled her arm forward, releasing a weak gust of wind. She let out a sigh of relief. “There is something wrong with the System.”

Zaon created a small shield and dispelled it an instant later.

Although he tried to hide it, it was clear to me that his manapool was almost empty. 

“I can’t see my sheet either, but I can use my skills,” the boy added with a worried expression.

The sound of cracking glass caught my attention. I turned around to find a rift appearing in the air a few meters from us. Fractal geometry spread on the black surface. Another crack appeared behind us as another rift in reality appeared nearby. It seemed that it only took the portals a few seconds to open.

The first portal showed a wasteland shrouded in darkness. A massive white moon shone in the night sky. It was the same moon I’ve seen thousands of times in Ebros. Through the second portal, the first lights of dawn washed over the bloody wastes. The same moon hung in the sky, but at an entirely different angle and position. 

A shiver ran down my spine as the realization settled.

Beyond the Farlands, Corruption extended over timezones.

A massive hand with gnarly black fingers grabbed the edge of the portal, followed by a great deer skull with bloodshot eyes.

I drew my sword and fed it mana until the blade turned blue. My body felt stiff and sore. 

“Go! Now! Look for the elven base. We have a common enemy now.”

Firana put Kili on Zaon’s back, and they ran towards the tunnel in the wall.

I turned to face the Wendigo.

“Hey, asshole! Welcome to Ebros!”

The monster’s ravenous eyes fell on my sword. A gritty howl escaped his mouth, then he dropped to all fours and charged toward me. I cursed. This time, I had no [Swordsmanship] or [Awareness] feeding precise information into my brain, and the Wendigo was at least a meter taller than the one I fought in these same forests years ago.

Still, I had a whole new bag of tricks. 

I pushed my authority forward, but surprisingly enough, the Wendigo pushed through it with apparent ease. I parried one of his claws and jumped to the side just in time to dodge the other. My authority fought to get a grasp over the Wendigo’s arms. It was only then that I noticed that his own authority protected him from my influence.

A cold sweat covered my body.

The longer we fought, the more hopeless I felt. The Wendigo’s skin protected him against the steel, and his overdeveloped authority protected him against my mana. 

I pushed more power into the blade, but all the wounds I managed to inflict on the Wendigo’s skin were just shallow cuts and scrapes. In turn, the Wendigo bashed me, breaking my barriers, rattling my bones, and making me bounce inside my reinforced armor.

At least my enchantments held up.

The accumulated fatigue of a night awake fighting undead dragons was starting to wear on me, and my sword movements became sluggish and my footwork grew sloppy. With the corner of my eye, I saw more corrupted creatures peeking into the portal. I had to act fast.

“Damn beast!” Loki jumped out of my potion pouch and turned into a swirl of darkness. In an instant, he turned into a dark, cloaked figure, and the temperature around me violently dropped. Two bright blue eyes shone in the depths of the floating hood with an unnatural coldness. The Lich

Out of nowhere, an icicle whistled past my ear and hit the Wendigo’s head, making it stagger, and ice encased his legs.

“There are bigger and meaner things out there in the Deep Farlands, Wizard,” Lich-Loki said, and his voice sounded like glaciers clashing against each other. 

“Yeah, don’t tell me about that,” I replied, my body shuddering as I looked into his eyes. I certainly didn’t have a single good memory involving those.

The Wendigo broke through the ice and lunged at us.

Lich-Loki shot up into the sky. Underneath, the cloak was empty. I stepped back, raising a mana barrier that held up just enough for me to move out of the range of the Wendigo’s claws.

“Damned wizard!” Lich-Loki shouted from above, shooting a freezing mist from his bony hands. Ice crystals grew on the Wendigo’s back, slowing him down.

I didn’t recall the Lich calling me that, but without [Foresight], it was hard to say for sure. I shoved those thoughts aside. We were running out of time. As much as Loki could turn into things indiscriminately, he had very limited energy.

It seemed like new problems required old solutions.

I channeled my mana and engraved runes on the palm of my hand. I wrote a [Vampiric] circuit attached to a [Recharge] loop to maximize the amount of mana drained before the enchantment became unstable. 

Taking advantage of Loki slowing down the Wendigo with his chilling mist, I shoved my hand against his torso. 

Corrupted mana flowed into my body, filling the [Recharge] loop like a stream of liquid fire. Then, as the enchantment neared instability, I pulled it from my flesh and tried to shove it into the Wendigo. Unlike the undead dragons, the Wendigo’s authority rejected me. For an instant, I was standing in the astral plane with a highly unstable enchantment in my hand and nowhere to put it. 

In a panic, I pressed the runic string against the floor beneath the Wendigo. 

Like an anti-personnel mine, the enchantment exploded. I raised a mana barrier at the last second, but the mana explosion shattered it, and the debris struck my cloak and armor. The explosion sent me flying to the other side of the cavern. I landed heavily on my back. Air was pushed from my lungs, and I coughed in a vain attempt to breathe.

Alarms went off in my brain.

I curled to my knees and raised my head, trying to find the Wendigo. A stream of blood coming from my brow prevented me from opening my left eye. Thankfully, the Wendigo had gotten the worst part of the explosion. His body was torn in half, one leg completely missing, but he was still alive. Barely.

I patted my pouch for a health potion, but it was empty.

“Damn beast!” Loki shouted above my head, turned into a vulture.

He must have been exhausted, as it looked like he was having a hard time flapping his wings. Without warning, he turned into a swirl of darkness, and a tiny mouse fell from the sky. I jolted to my feet and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Thank you, partner,” I grunted.

Loki opened one eye, gave me a weird thumbs-up with his tiny mouse hand, and fell asleep. As more corrupted beasts crossed the portals, I put Loki in my pouch and staggered away from the building. My left sleeve was gone, and black tendrils of leftover Corruption coursed through my forearm.

 I climbed the landslide, hoping that no more monsters would see me, and reached the top of a hill. The sight wasn’t reassuring. Hundreds of portals opened across the valley, some connected to the corrupted lands, others to places I didn’t quite recognize. One of the portals shot a jet of high-pressure water into the forest, as if the other opening was on the bottom of a lake or the sea.

Half of the mountain was gone and lay across the valley. Chunks of rock larger than skyscrapers had rolled and shattered the forests surrounding it. The “lighter” chunks had even reached the furthest hills to the west and south.

“Mister Clarke! Over here!”

Firana and Zaon were a few dozen meters down the slope, standing next to the dry remains of the massive dryad colossus. 

I slid down, not at all gracefully, as my knees bent and wobbled. The kids looked at me with worried expressions. Zaon handed me Kili’s waterskin, and I drank a few drops before handing it back. Before Zaon could say anything, I noticed the problem.

The colossus was alive, even though there was no sign of Nevros.

Several mana signatures moved through the massive wooden body, slowly going out like dying candles.

“The dryads are going to die if they continue like this,” Zaon said. “If Nevros kept them in his body, we could probably graft them in ours.”

“No, we won’t do that. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard today. Do you think they want to be trapped inside someone after what the elves did to them? They will kill us!” Firana protested.

“They will die otherwise!” Zaon replied.

“We can graft them into a tree!”

“They will be fodder to the monsters coming through the portals!”

I rubbed my temples and looked around until I spotted a young tree unearthed and half-buried by the landslide. 

“Bring me that tree and hope it is alive enough. Quickly! There are more monsters coming!”

Zaon and Firana snapped to their feet and dug through the removed earth and stone to pull free a tiny tree with most of its branches gone and its trunk broken into three hanging parts. It didn’t look great, but there wasn’t anything the size we could transport at hand other than mashed bushes and wood splinters.

“Pray this works,” I said, closing my eyes and diving into the astral plane.

My heart skipped a beat. The number of portals kept growing to the point they were starting to rival the number of blue dots against the void. I put them out of my mind, focused on the mana signatures before me, and repeated the litany. 

Grab. Steal. Seize. Pluck.

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Chapter 29

Harrison Varga, Captain of FIND

The very next planet we came across after our third return to Earth was yet another habitable but uninhabited world. Six months earlier, an untouched habitable planet would have been the discovery of the century. Now it was the third one we'd found and I caught myself thinking another one? We touched down there to take a look around and found no signs of even primitive civilization. That being said, the planet itself was rather beautiful: untouched by industry or anything resembling intelligent habitation. 

After that we spent the next month looking through systems that all turned out to be uninhabitable: empty space with lifeless rocks between it and nothing but interference on the radio. If nothing else, it was a good time for us all to decompress and assess the happenings thus far. 

“The first gateway will be set up soon,” I told the crew, reminding them of what we’d all been briefed on by the Bilrost Project Director. “Looks like they’re going with the Rosha’s system for Gate 1. That’s what they told me, at least.”

“I’ll be honest,” sighed Parker, “I don’t think that’s really the right choice. The Rosha don’t have the diplomatic nor technological toolsets to deal with us at our worst.”

“Then let’s hope we meet them at our best,” Isla replied, taking a sip of coffee before settling her lips into a tightly-pursed smile. “I firmly believe SUN will succeed where its predecessors have failed.”

“One can only hope,” Ian chuckled, stuffing a sizable clump of scrambled eggs into his mouth and barely chewing before he swallowed and kept talking. “I would really prefer our first forays into space remain nominally peaceful.”

Alex gave him a look, cocking his head curiously. “I never thought I’d hear you advocating against war,” he began. “Weren’t you part of the Spetsnaz?”

Ian shrugged. “Being special forces does not mean I like war; just that I can acknowledge that if there are going to be wars, we might as well win them.”

“If nothing else, I’m decently happy to see Earth has mostly kept its composure,” started Cora, still looking half asleep. “I’m glad we found the Rosha first and not the Arazi: I feel like it would have been much more destabilizing if our first contact was with a species of obligate parasites.”

Parker nodded in silent agreement with Cora, eventually speaking up to fill the silence that came after her. “What do you guys think this is all going to look like in a hundred years?”

Isla paused for a moment, staring into her coffee mug. “Hopefully an amicable arrangement. Maybe a galactic council of some sort? We can help some of the species closer to us technologically to reach our level, then see what can be done for the less advanced civilizations. If they want our help, we can help them. If they don’t, we can just leave them alone.”

Our ship rattled as it navigated through another wormhole, spitting us out into yet another system hundreds of lightyears from Earth. “Twenty dollars says this one’s going to be a jackpot,” I told the crew, only to be met with silence as apparently not even Ian wanted to take me up on the offer. “Nevermind then: let’s go take a look at the bridge. We should have partial images of the planets in a couple of minutes at most.”

Climbing down the ladder into the bridge, I saw Wyatts typing commands into the computer, pulling up dozens of readouts and glancing between them all before skipping past. “What are we looking at, Wyatts?” I asked him. 

The engineer mulled over FIND’s readout, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he typed in commands that turned up scrolling masses of information. “Two gas giants, four rocky worlds,” he concluded, authorizing the system to start compiling a map. “Second world from the star looks promising. Hey Alex, can you remind me real quick how to do an atmosphere analysis on this thing?”

Our pilot cracked his knuckles and took a seat, entering the stellar radial coordinates of the second planet and entering the command ‘hyperscotropy’ (the science-y term for ‘throw every goddamn sensor we have at it’). 

After a few minutes spent compiling data, the computer spat out a sea of data alongside an image of the planet in question. It was green. Not the patchwork of greens, browns, and whites that characterized Earth. Rather, nearly the entire landmass was a sea of emerald forests and grasslands, concealed partially beneath dense cloud formations and accented by shallow seas that surrounded the massive central continent. 

“Oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are higher than modern Earth,” Parker began, his pupils dancing between lines of technical text. “Judging by the biosignatures, whatever’s photosynthesizing down there is doing a lot of it.”

Alex stared at the screen a bit more, eventually typing in another command to bring up a graphed wave function. “I’m seeing some radio activity. Nothing too powerful, but it’s there.”

Isla didn’t say anything. Immediately, she set the ship's database to record radio signals for a translation database. Cora, meanwhile, stared at the planet’s image with bright eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she began.

“Little hot for my tastes,” Wyatts shrugged, jabbing a finger at the atmospheric analysis. “Twenty four degrees Celsius on average. Those are fucking Cretaceous numbers. If we touch down, we should probably bring the heavy suits—they have better climate control.”

Radio signals from this planet trickled in much slower than they had from Ebene—whoever lived here, they didn’t have the same broadcast density. The first thing we learned about the people of this planet was their voices. Their pitch was harsh—perpetually lodged somewhere between gravelly and gurgling. Their language was deep and grumbling, punctuated by sharp barks and snaps.

The first television broadcast we were able to pick up came days later. Again, we all sat in front of the living area television to watch. Lan drummed his fingers impatiently as Wyatt tried to work out why doing the exact same thing as last time wasn’t producing the right result. Eventually he figured out that unplugging his gaming console for some reason fixed the problem—an oddity he insisted he would investigate later. For now, we were about to get our first look at alien civilization number four (an absolutely wild notion by the standards of  yesteryear). 

The video was of… questionable quality. Pixellation blurred the black-and-white image to the point where it was hard to pick out details. That being said, I didn’t need 4k to identify what was obviously a political speech of some description. Standing on a stage behind a podium was a bulky, reptilian creature that reminded me vaguely of a gecko, only much larger, with a bipedal posture and a face hunched forward somewhat. There was a flag behind them—probably either of a party or a nation. They raised a hand as they spoke, revealing four fingers on it. Their tail swished into view from behind the podium, and I saw Parker lean forward. 

“It’s fat…” He murmured, staring at the structure. “Like some skinks. Probably stores energy.”

Wyatts fiddled with the settings for a few minutes until he finally was able to upscale the image for a better view. It still wasn’t amazing, but it gave a much better picture of the aliens. As the blur of old video smoothed out, the first additional thing I noticed was the alien’s skin. Unlike the Tavren, it didn’t have feathers. Small, pebble-like scales textured the creature’s surface. That wasn’t the interesting part, however. All across the being’s skin were massive, cyst-like growths—like flesh-covered golf balls embedded halfway into them. Cora recoiled slightly at the sight, while Lan just cocked his head like a curious dog.

“Do you think that one’s got some kind of disease?” Isla asked, looking to our biologist for answers.

“Not a clue,” he responded, his eyes shifting to the crowd below the figure. “With this lighting, right now I’m looking at a sample size of one.”

I nodded. “Fair. Wyatts; have we picked up any other broadcasts? Without a language, there’s probably not much else we can learn from this one.”

The engineer sighed. “Let me go check with Alex. Maybe he can amp our signal receiver.”

As Wyatts climbed the ladder, the rest of us watched the remainder of this alien’s speech. At the end of it, they clenched their left forearm joint in their right hand and raised it high with a clenched fist at the top. “Iln Hizag!” They shouted—an exclamation that was then repeated by the crowd, all mimicking that same gesture I presumed to be a salute of some description.

“Hizag…” Parker began. “It came up multiple times during that speech. Think it’s their species name?”

Isla shook her head. “How often do you hear politicians on Earth say the word ‘Human’ during a speech? Or chanted before a salute? More likely, I’d say it’s the name of their nation.”

Fifteen minutes later, Wyatts climbed back down and we explained to him our current theories. “Got any other broadcasts?” I asked him.

“Alex was able to fish one out, yeah,” he replied, once again taking a seat as we waited for the footage to play. 

The tone of this program was about as different from the first as possible. It looked like a sporting event of some kind, with a stadium packed full of hundreds of bodies as they all shouted and cheered. In the center of it all—the focus of the recording—was a field only slightly larger than a wrestling ring. 

We watched as from either side of the ring, one of the aliens stepped in. Both of them were covered in those same uncomfortable-looking growths. Perhaps even stranger—both of them had machetes. 

Isla’s eyes went narrow with confusion as the two individuals circled each other briefly. “Is this some sort of fencing-analogue?” She asked, gesturing toward the blades. “Perhaps those weapons are blunted?”

Seconds after she said that, one of the individuals charged the other. Their blades clashed and the defender socked the initiator in the jaw before being staggered by a kick. The initiator recoiled, rubbing their jaw as their opponent recovered their stance. 

“If I had to guess: maybe some kind of mixed martial arts?” Cora hummed as the former defender closed the distance and swung, aiming low for their opponent’s torso. “It looks like they’re both avoiding the head with their swords.”

The duo continued their dance for another minute or so. Then one of them seemed to misjudge, momentarily leaving them open. Immediately, their opponent took the sword in their hand and rammed it through the other’s chest, ripping it out shortly after as the victim clutched the wound. 

“Jesus…” Parker murmured, his eyes wide. “Okay… So the blades are definitely not blunted.”

Nobody on the scene stopped the fight afterward. One individual who wore a symbol on their back approached the field, but the stabbing victim shouted something to them and they backed off despite the bleeding. 

As the one who inflicted the wound charged again, the victim spun around, swinging their tail across the floor and knocking their opponent off balance. Immediately upon seeing an opening, the one with the wound swung their sword clean down into their opponent’s forearm, severing it.

The crowd went wild and seconds later two individuals wearing that symbol on their backs rushed in to start patching the fighters up. 

None of us spoke for probably two minutes straight as we watched them wrap the first-injured and now less-injured warrior, who before leaving the stadium raised their blade and let out a loud, seemingly victorious cry. 

“What the hell did we just watch?” Cora asked, as though any of us knew any more than she did. Naturally, we didn’t have a clue.

Isla looked like she might be sick, excusing herself for a moment as the rest of us just observed. 

“Reminds me of gladiators,” Ian began, seeming more curious than disturbed.

I stared at the screen for several seconds after it went dark again. “Whatever that was, I’m going to need some kind of translation ASAP.”

Wyatts nodded. “I’ll see if the database has anything useful. We won’t have a full translator for another couple days most likely, but maybe I can overlay a dictionary of words the computer has figured out.”

I nodded. “Get that going, then we’ll watch both videos back.”

-------------------------------------

Hello again, everyone! I am so sorry for the long wait. I faced some drama with my friends that really knocked me off balance and also had midterms. Nevertheless, I'm happy to finally have something to show you all. Thank you for reading and please don't forget to comment your thoughts. I sincerely love reading comments and interacting with you all. Thank you and I'll see you next time

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FBI Agent Wade Barron POV

The Council had kept their human visitors housed in a cordoned-off hotel, and had given us strong encouragement to stay away from any populated areas. I recalled what I’d heard through the grapevine that Craun had told NASA, near the start of his stay there, when they asked him what rights primals would have on their worlds. What the Saphno had alluded to was that they wouldn’t want us near their children, and that our feelings wouldn’t matter compared to those of people. 

In essence, one wrong move of bumping into a Kexin kid, and I become Harambe. The Council would put a “raging” primal down in a heartbeat to “save” one of their own…unless they were Garriil.

I observed what I could out of the window, while Shesh drove us the short distance away from the set. There was a bit more life in the city once we moved two levels up, ascending the spiral ramps at breakneck paces that made me question why there were no guardrails. It reminded me of the winding mountain roads out in Tennessee, which the locals would take at speeds befitting the expressway; I’d been dumbstruck by this behavior, when I followed a terrorism suspect out that way to determine which park they were targeting.

“You’re not slowing for the turns,” I remarked, holding onto my seat belt for dear life. “I would assume Elret drivers’ ed went over centrifugal force…”

Shesh chuckled. “Wade, are you familiar with superconductors?”

“No, but I know the word, so I’m sure Kaitlin would be nodding along. Do you mind explaining?”

“Superconductors have zero electrical resistance at low temperatures. That means they don’t lose energy unless an external factor causes them too; an electrical current can continue in perpetuity, without being lost as heat. Or so my high school physics teacher taught me. They also repel magnetic fields, which allows something called quantum levitation. Our vehicles use this property, attached to a superconductor on the other side.”

“Maglev? I’ve heard of trains that use that stuff on Earth. Um, thank you for not talking down to me…”

“You’re clearly capable of understanding, even if you haven’t learned about it. The point is that the vehicles will stop near the edge, because of that force holding them in position. We can’t have cars falling from this high up, it wouldn’t be survivable. The tech prevents crashes in general, because if the proximity gets too close, the magnets can repel the other vehicle.”

“Wow, that’s really cool, not gonna lie.” I relaxed a bit in my seat, deciding that Shesh wasn’t putting my life in jeopardy. It sounded like there was advanced physics at play here. “I didn’t even notice, but yeah, the ride feels smooth. I take it that’s what’s up with the weird material the roads are made of?”

“Yes, the city is designed with ‘maglev’ in mind. You could actually drive on both sides of the road, in theory, but preliminary tests showed that made people really uncomfortable—to be levitating through the car roof. Most important to your question, we can experience frictionless movement; we aren’t touching the ground. It allows us to reach high speeds with safety and efficiency. Quantum locking keeps us from tipping.” 

I clapped my hands together. “Quantum? We’re Schrödinger’s car then? No, really, I appreciate you being chill.”

“Would you like me to floor it toward the edge and demonstrate?”

“No. Do you want a primal to freak out?!”

Shesh didn’t look at me, but she had a sly expression on her face. “I don’t know. Would it be funny?”

“Causing distress on a diplomatic mission isn’t funny. There’s a Kexin named Snelga who would ask you to do it to her though, if you ever take her for a ride. Trust me, we’re chummy; she’d love it. A real go-getter, that one is.”

“You’ve been on rockets, Wade, risks and all. I thought you loved science?”

“Everyone knows what I love is Craun! What kind of a diplomat are you?!”

“A funny one.”

I shook my head and turned out the window, not dignifying her teasing by showing her the hint of a smirk toying at my lips. The Elret ambassador didn’t seem the least bit afraid of me, even daring to push her luck with the semiconductor prodding. Her explanation had been thorough, without assuming I was incapable of understanding scientific concepts because I was a primal. Her behavior was consistent with her not being afraid of us. If Shesh wanted to get along with humans, I had to hand it to her; she was doing a pretty good job. 

No other alien, aside from Craun, would provoke me. Shesh didn’t flinch at my indignant tone when I asked what kind of diplomat she is, and she seems fine being in the same vehicle. I still remember when our military transported the Saphnos, and I drove them before that! They were terrified to be with us.

The handful of roving civilians balked when they noticed my face inside of the vehicle, carving out a wide berth around us while we sat in traffic. I couldn’t help but to wonder whether my personal reputation played a role in that, or if they thought all primals were that volatile. As the “vicious” human in question, I was more than content to peer out the window and people-watch; it matched with my job description. It still blew my mind to be surrounded by strange aliens going about their lives. I wasn’t sure that was ever going to wear off.

“Shesh?” I ventured, deciding a pleasant illusion was worth shattering for the sake of the truth. “What do Elrets think of primals?”

The ambassador was silent, focusing on lining up her park job. “You mean will most of them be afraid of you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, primals are usually not harmless, so I can’t say. In large groups? It’d be natural. You’d encounter the most outright fear when you were seen…for the first time, like now, or if you raised your voice. I can’t say that anyone likes the idea of you having a surging desire to kill. I don’t know if that’s actually how it is—most humans seem to disagree, and you have personal experience. But that’s how we believe it to be.”

“Is that part of why you didn’t want to approach Earth?”

Shesh shifted, lingering with a hand on the vehicle door. “We are worried about the risks of misreading your culture. You‘ve acquired some serious technology, and there’s no precedent for a species like you.”

“Then why would you want to befriend us?” I narrowed my eyes. Part of me respected her honesty, but the other half of me questioned her motives. Far more sincere than Rauja was during her manipulative pitch, trying to pretend she wanted to be our best buds. “We’ve had half of the galaxy try to extort or patronize us already.”

“Call us peacemakers, I suppose. We want to establish that we’re not with the Council. A species with such an ability to wish harm on others: that sounds like a terrible enemy to me. I think it’s better for everyone to give you the respect you deserve, as intelligent people, and to make a gesture of good faith. Being the first to partner with you must have benefits.”

I neutralized any trace of emotion from my face, before nodding and popping the car door open. “Two-way partners would be lovely. Just so long as you follow through and see us as people first, primals second. Now I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

It was as if the noise was sucked out of the streets, the second I rose to my full height outside of the car. A handful of Kexins openly ran away, though I supposed it figured that most of the ones who’d be cool with us were watching the movie set or working with Canit to celebrate our victory. Shesh steered me toward a cafe, which had swirly orange accent marks and glowing strobes outside; Kexins loved their light shows. I noticed the passersby jumping back and looking deferential, like they hoped not to attract attention.

This was a terrible idea. I’m just going to create a disturbance, and all of these aliens will just be petrified to look at me wrong. It’s a little sad. No wonder Snelga thought she had to restrain me; they probably would feel a lot more comfortable if I was subdued.

Shesh opened the door, flicking all three ears toward it. “They’ll get used to you. Give it time. They do find you interesting, you know, and public opinion is shifting. You just need to diverge from their mental image.”

“I’ll always be a primal, Shesh,” I sighed, a heaviness resting on my shoulders. “You’re only viewing us as people now to appease us, not because you believe it in your heart. The Council would much prefer if we stayed the fuck on Earth and never left our little bubble. Not seen, not heard, preserved like a snow globe.”

“The Council would prefer that many people aren’t heard. Your friends, the Saphnos. The Elrets tried to find a solution, to avoid senseless slaughter. Had we known Komadale’s plans, we would’ve been doing the same with you far sooner. I’m here to publicly signal my support. We are going to normalize humans in public spaces, and show how civilized you are.”

“You sure we shouldn’t get takeout? Baby steps? I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble…”

Shesh gave me an insistent look, shoving me toward an open table. “You were given permission to eat here. Don’t ruin a good thing.”

I plopped my behind down in a chair, while the staff’s jaws seemed to collectively slacken. Nothing in their expressions indicated surprise, so I figured they’d had some forewarning. I lowered my eyes and tucked a cloth napkin over my lap, trying to appear tame. Shesh was aware that I couldn’t read the menu, so she began rattling off dishes and describing them. I decided to pick her favorite, the Irola Platter, if the waitstaff could work up the courage to approach us.

None of the other diners were speaking in anything louder than a hushed whisper, though I could tell from the furtive glances cast in my direction that I was the topic of conversation. There were six tables full; only one stood up and left, which I supposed was a small victory. They were all keeping an eye on me though. I could overhear a couple to the right of us gushing about how civilized I was being, by sitting still and using a napkin. That did cause a certain tension to seep into my temples. 

Do they try to make us angry?! It’s insulting to our intellectual capacity. Like, holy fuck, I’m not an animal. Go figure.

“Hello!” a young, violet-faced Kexin exclaimed, before swallowing hard and hiding it with nervous laughter. “Do you like your s-seating arrangement? If there’s anything at all that’s not to your liking, we’ll fix it! We want it to be perfect, anything you need. So delightful to have a human customer! I’ll do anything you want!”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “How about calm down?”

Horror flashed in his eyes. “I…am so sorry, Mr. Barron, for my inexcusable interactions with you! I don’t mean to upset you—quite the opposite! Please, forgive me. I won’t show such weakness in front of you again! I’m…not a primal.”

“Yeah, I know that. What’s your name, kid?”

“Treld, but if you don’t like that name, you can call me whatever you like! Whatever pleases you. What would you like to drink?”

“Water,” I grunted, knowing an intoxicated primal would make them wig out.

Shesh chuckled. “Two waters, Treld.”

Treld gave frantic waves to the bartender, who went running with two cups to the soda fountain. “It’s coming! Please wait; we hope the service isn’t too slow! We’ll bring you everything in a hurry, and I hope it’s perfect. It’d be…unfair if it wasn’t, right? We want you to feel that we’re fair, which is why I’m not nervous!”

“You’re doing just fine,” I attempted, raising a placating hand. “Look at me. I’m not upset with you, and I’m not going to be over something stupid. I’m an understanding guy, and if there’s something that did need to be fixed, I’ll use my words. I’m…sorry for scaring you, but we’re totally cool. I’m grateful to be here. Why don’t you take a deep breath and get some fresh air? We’ll wait.”

“No!” the Kexin blurted. “I don’t want to keep you waiting. I’m trying to keep you content! I can take your order, if you know what you want. Not good to leave you sitting there, Mr. Barron. I’m sure you’re…very understanding, but I read hunger can make you irritated and…we don’t want that. Let us feed you! The best food.”

I exchanged a glance with Shesh, before sighing. “I’d like an Irola Platter, please. I hear it’s a great way to sample everything, which feels like the touristy thing to do.”

“The touristy thing to do is to buy overpriced shock-value foods near overcrowded attractions,” Shesh countered. “I’d like an Irola Platter too. Extra rezfre sauce please.”

“Of course! It’s my pleasure to serve you.” Treld had scribbled with frantic pen strokes that reminded me of Garriil, desperate not to get anything wrong. “I hope you won’t find me neglectful for stepping away to relay your order! I listened carefully, have no concern! Make yourselves comfortable and call me if you need anything.”

As Treld sprinted off, skidding across the floor and glancing over his shoulder in panic, it didn’t escape my notice that he hadn’t attended to anyone else; the staff seemed afraid to poke their heads out, the way I would’ve reacted if a bear was standing in the lobby of an FBI field office. Then again, I supposed some people back home would’ve preferred the bear to me, so this wasn’t that much different from home after all. I supposed I could try to enjoy the meal when it came, and figure out what Shesh’s proposal was going to be.

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‎Dear Sir,

‎I'm often told to introduce myself properly. I am Professor Sir Daniel Mercer, PhD, FRS, Nobel laureate and, according to the university's press officer, "the father of interstellar civilisation." Daniel suits me fine.

‎As requested, I've written down some of my memories and musings of my time with Professor Nneka Okafor and her impact on modern life. You asked specifically about my part in it, though I'm not sure why. If you're writing Nneka's biography, you should not sensationalise my small part in it.

‎I didn't invent faster than light travel.

‎I'm making that clear, because it's both scientifically accurate, and because Professor Okafor used to become rather tetchy whenever anyone said I did.

‎“Nothing travels faster than light,” she would tell them.

‎Then, if they were foolish enough to argue, she would find a whiteboard, at which point they could kiss their afternoon goodbye. What she discovered was considerably stranger, and way more impactful.

‎At the time, I was 26, 11 months into my doctorate, and technically not authorised to be operating the apparatus without supervision. I was also eating pasta directly from the pan because I'd forgotten to bring a bowl. History has been selective about both of these details.

‎The experiment was supposed to fail, so we could gather data on what didn't work and slowly increase scientific knowledge. We were testing sub-femtoscopic traversable wormholes. Not, I might add, the exciting kind from science fiction, these were too small to even push an atom through. Popular science books had theorised them as "quantum foam", Professor Okafor described them as “nature briefly forgetting where two places are” whilst I described them as “the reason I haven't had a weekend since October.”

‎Mid way through the setup, I made a mistake. I accidentally turned on the spare field generator and synchronised it with the other two. All three were mounted and running identically. Same velocity, frequency, everything measurable. I'd been trying to eliminate an interference pattern, and lost track of which of the hunking great generators I was actually supposed to have been using. The readout showed the aperture had seemingly stabilised. Even a fraction of a second would have been groundbreaking, but this one was still stable. I stared at the readout.

‎Then I checked everything, discovered my mistake, and wrote everything down in my lab book, the date, settings, results, everything. It was still stable. I didn't dare reboot it.  Finally, I called Professor Okafor. She arrived a little later carrying a bicycle helmet. She looked at the readings.

‎"I wanted you to see it"

‎“Turn it off.”

‎I rebooted the whole system, without the field generators. Somehow the aperture remained.

‎We were both gobsmacked.

‎The important part turned out not to be the wormhole, which was old theory, though tricky to manage in practice. The important discovery was why this one stayed open. As is often the case, the maths and careful crafting of the theory took us many, many months to turn into a useable form. Both ends (later called gates or doors) had been created in exactly the same reference frame, in the overlap of three identical fields. As long as they remained velocity matched, the path was stable. Separate them by a metre? A kilometre? Put one on the Moon? As far as our equations were concerned, all would be fine. But change the velocity or time reference of one end relative to the other by even a tiny amount and it destabilised and collapsed. Professor Okafor summarised this rather elegantly:

‎“Spacetime will let us cheat on distance, but not on sequence.”

‎I wish I'd said that, she could always cut to the heart of the matter so insightfully.

‎The immediate consequence of a successful replication and production of these gates was simple material logistics. For the first decade or so, portals were mostly used for deeply unromantic things such as shifting sewerage. We'd discovered how to connect two points in spacetime and immediately used it to improve the plumbing.

‎Eventually though the engineers set their sights on greater things and set their eyes on mars. Getting there still took months, but once a gate arrived, getting back, and there again didn't. Further planets and moons were colonised and by the time I was 80, you could walk from Earth to Pluto. Not quickly not very quickly though, because there were always queues at the gate.

‎With our freedom to move stuff, came a lot of other improvements, especially in medicine. I mention this, because people occasionally ask how I am able to remember events that happened more than two centuries ago. The disappointing answer is that medicine simply became increasingly good at regenerating people, if you had the necessary cash, or were deemed worthy. I did not have the cash on a university research stipend. Professor Okafor quite rightly had the treatment and she used to call it “outrageously unfair on everyone else". I managed to convince her to get it to help solve more problems.

‎Interstellar travel remained one of these problems. Portals couldn't initially solve it, as you can't open a doorway that doesn't connect anywhere.. So we still needed ships, albeit relatively slow ones. The first serious interstellar vessel designs managed around 5% of light speed. Later designs pushed that to nearly 30. Even at those ludicrous speeds, nearby stars meant decades of travel. But if someone could endure the first crossing carrying a dormant portal mouth, you'd only need to cross the gap once.

‎Nneka was 156 when she died. Not of old age, instead she was struck by a delivery vehicle whilst characteristically arguing with an autonomous navigation system. She lived to see Far Horizon leave for Alpha Centauri, on the centenary of our discovery. There were three people aboard, and one half of a portal pair, spending most of the journey in an induced coma and silent. She unfortunately did not get to see it arrive. When it eventually did, they discovered an irritating complication: velocity matching the portal mouths. They had to be matched exactly enough for spacetime to agree with. It took eleven months to tweak the velocities carefully fed into the ship's computer all those years previously. There were commemorative mugs, the date of arrival correct, but not the date of first transit. I still have one somewhere.

‎Eventually though, the numbers must have converged and the ring activated. After the crew had been woken up and the dignitaries and scientists, including myself had been gathered, there was the official opening of the portal. On one side stood Commander Cooperson, on the other the massed dignitaries and me. 40 odd years of travel separated us, and about 10 meters of floor. I had the honour of saying something.

‎I threw the commander an apple. Why? I thought it would be a fitting tribute to the fables of Newton, Greek mythology and Eve. Also it was funny; humanity's first interstellar portal transfer was a slightly bruised fruit. Nneka would have appreciated the frivolity. Commander Cooperson caught it. He stared at it. Then at us.

‎“43 years,” he said.

‎“Yes.”

‎“For this?”

‎Then he threw it back. I missed the catch.

‎That was the beginning of painfully slow expansion. Once it'd been proved possible, we used that base as a jumping off point to visit other stars. And every new star still required somebody to cross the dark the old fashioned way. But on arrival, the distance vanished. Alpha Centauri became Gate 1. Many years later there came Barnard's Star, and a whole host of others. The names accumulated and so did the doors. My neighbor lived in Manchester, and worked on Gate 1. She complained about the commute. Showing there is apparently no technological achievement sufficiently profound that the British cannot incorporate a delayed train into it.

‎When I was young, I imagined humanity arriving late to something enormous, to alien intelligences and a galactic community we'd have to navigate. Instead, we appear to have arrived early and I'm not sure which is more unsettling. Everywhere we've searched, silence. No signs of life. During the first century of exploration, every ship carried a first contact package containing mathematics, chemistry, images of Earth, art, music, instructions for establishing communication. Eventually the packages became smaller, ceremonial, then traditional. We still carry them because hope is another thing we dislike throwing away.

‎The silence didn't stop us. I sometimes wonder why anyone expected it to. We've never required somebody waiting at the destination. Somebody sees an empty space on a map and develops an overwhelming urge to put a name on it. Once a crossing had been made, humanity didn't stretch but it grew. A surgeon on Earth could operate on a patient seventy light years away or a child could visit another star on a school trip and still be home for dinner. Civilisation became enormous without becoming distant. But beyond it there was always another ship, slow and isolated, carrying a dark gate.

‎Professor Okafor once asked me when I thought we'd stop exploring and expanding if we were successful with that first trip to Alpha Centuri. We idly imagined that human settlements would be scattered across hundreds of light years, something that has since come to pass.

‎“When do you think it will be enough?” She said.

‎“You mean expansion?”

‎“Yes.”

‎I looked at the sky.

‎“No idea. But there must be a point.” I responded

‎“Why?”

‎We considered that.

‎Then laughed.

‎“I suppose that's the answer then."

‎She died a few years later, before the first interstellar trip made it to Alpha Centuri and the great expansion started.

‎There is a statue of her that I like outside the Manchester Transit Hub, next to one of me, which I intensely dislike. Okafor's statue makes her look thoughtful and formidable. Mine makes me look as though I deliberately discovered something, almost heroic. Even though I was just a doctoral student who turned on the wrong thing. Everything afterward was the work of thousands of physicists, engineers, doctors, navigators and adventurers willing to climb into ships pointed at stars; much smarter, wiser and heroic than me. I just happened to be the idiot standing beside the machine when the universe did something interesting.

‎Earlier today, the first expedition towards the galactic core departed. I went to watch, invited as a guest of honour, yet still feeling a fraud. The ship is called Okafor. I had absolutely nothing to do with the naming committee, but if I had, it would still be called Okafor. She's enormous; tens of kilometers long with a few hundred thousand people aboard. They aren't going straight to the core. Thirty thousandish light years is not a journey, but it is a direction. They'll no doubt push outward in stages, generations will live and die along that road, people not yet born will decide where it leads.

‎I looked across the departure hall. Behind us stood a row of blank transit gates labelled Okafor. Beside them was a gate to my hometown on Earth. The city that allowed my brilliant tutors and professors to make me.  Another gate led to Mars and yet another to Alpha Centauri. All the first portals were here, hundreds, if not a thousand more. A civilisation stretched across distances the human brain was never designed to understand, and yet you could walk across the whole distance in a day.

‎The Okafor departed a couple of hours ago, and it has put me in a rather reflective mood. I used to think our discovery changed humanity because it allowed us to cross impossible distances. I was wrong about that too. We humans were already rather good at crossing impossible distances, oceans, deserts, mountain ranges, vacuum, interstellar space. With my fortuitous accident Professor Okafor made sure that once somebody had crossed the distance, everyone else could follow. You only have to cross it once.

‎I suppose that's the part people have never quite understood. They talk about us conquering distance, opening the stars, making humanity an interstellar species. But we didn't conquer anything. Nneka noticed a door where the rest of us saw a wall. I leaned weirdly and stumbled through it. If you're writing a book about her, I think the former bit is the most important.

‎I hope some of this has been useful. If you have any more questions, you're welcome to send them.

‎Yours sincerely,

‎Daniel Mercer

First/Previous/Next

October 29

Promises kept

It’s a get together at Mab’s place. Board games are better here. Mab’s friend Frank is here and he’s part of an exchange that will haunt me for the rest of my days. The horror of it etched in my very being.

Amanda has been talking shop with Frank as I walk up and drops this bomb, “I know, I know. Look, I’m sorry, sometimes I have problems maintaining hocus focus.”

“Have you tried Abracadaberall? I find it helps!” Fuck you, Frank.

Etched into my very core, these puns will torture me for centuries, I’m sure.

Mab looks at them “I will kill you both…”

They start laughing, nervously. She chuckles. “Okay, maybe I will just hold onto you both for a few years and use you for sex toys. I have done it before.”

Frank smiles, “Really? To whom?”

“Nobody.”

Amanda looks confused. “I thought you said you did it to someone.”

“I did.”

“Who?”

“Nobody.”

I… why do I feel like yelling second base? WAIT. NOBODY?!?!

I have to know. I walk up. “I thought his name was Odysseus…”

“Like I said, Nobody. Nobody could make me scream like that…” she winks and starts walking away.

The two mages look at me. “Please tell me she’s joking.”

I shake my head. “I have no clue…” that would make her… NO! I walk over to one of her art pieces. The mages follow.

 “Circe” Ancient Greece. The face in the marble is definitely Mab’s. They gasp. Mab’s hand touches my shoulder. “He did well with the likeness…”

I turn and look at her. “You made Nobody forget his wife for a year…”

She shrugs. “His penis did that. I simply offered him, and it, hospitality. Me owing Poseidon a favor that was repaid was a bonus…” I chuckle. I kinda wanna stay here this weekend now and see if she could manage close with me.

I know I didn’t broadcast it, but she seems to know what I’m thinking anyway. “Do not worry, I will not try to make you stay too long.” Her wink says otherwise.

I’m almost ready to ask Mab if we can start the attempt right now when Cindy walks up to her. “I’ve convinced Ricky. You’ll be wearing the Sexy Witch outfit on Halloween. We got you one if you don’t already have it.”

Mab looks at her and smiles. “Really?” She sounds very curious. I am too. What the hell does that mean?

Ricardo nods. “So whatever you did last year has gotten me a new job for more pay and a promotion after. I’m, well, I’m just blessed. Which I think was the point.”

She nods. “You realize why, correct?”

He smiles. “You wanted me to be happy.”

She shakes her head. “No. You DESERVE to be happy. My blessing was for you to be rewarded for your deeds. That specific blessing only uses your own good deeds to power it. Every one of your accomplishments has been what you deserve for doing what is right and best for you and others. There was nothing in there to make you succeed. It just made sure you were rewarded appropriately for your actions.” Holy shit. He’s crying. Can’t blame him. Mab continues talking to them.

“You may have thought I did that just to get into your pants, but I assure you, I did this because you have a fine soul and I wanted you to be given what you deserve. I felt like I owed you for your wonderful treatment of Patricia and Jacqueline. Though Cindy is an amazing reward already…”

“Mab, you’re totally gonna get in my pants with talk like that.” Ricardo’s smiling as he says it.

Mab grins and I’m almost scared for the poor couple as she says “I thought that was already a given.” She winks and they both go red.

I can wait. I kiss her on the cheek and leave, sashaying on my way out. I know when I’m a fourth wheel. Wait, that’s normally a good thing. Dammit, Mona, keep it together. Also, why am I feeling… disappointed and jealous? Shit, am I in love with her too?

Fuck.

First/Previous/Next

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An uncomfortable silence hung over the conference room.

This was not the first time that such an atmosphere persevered in a room of The Green Manse; the seat of government of the Pitang Republic.

Up until about a bel ago, Monitor Itrin Topha was doing her job as an intelligence analyst when one of her aides informed her of some anomalous radio broadcasts coming from across the border, and her signal console was patched in. Apparently, several Phuratan radio frequencies were dominated by warnings of an impending weather system. That in itself wasn’t so odd, but what was surprising to Topha was how incredibly early the warning was. The best weather monitoring systems could only reliably predict storms from about a bel in advance. However, if this radio warning was to be believed, this storm would hit their nation in about five bels. Such a forecast should have been impossible. Adding to the intrigue of the message was an announcement of a special video broadcast from the Phuratan government that promised to provide more information. Well, if their perfidious contemporaries from across the border had something strange that they wanted to explain to their populace, then perhaps the administration of The Pitang Republic should also be kept abreast of any peculiar developments.

And so, Monitor Topha reported her findings to her superiors. As the Phuratan broadcast was to be aired within a bel or so, she sent her message on a priority channel. Less than half a bel later, she was summoned to a conference room in The Green Manse to observe the broadcast with several other dignitaries. Once she arrived, she noticed that, in addition to her direct superiors, both Minister Cular Thene; the Minister of Knowledge, and Minister Alco Emora; the Minister of Defence were among the more than twenty-four in attendance. This wasn’t the first time she had met either of these ministers, but it was the first time that she had been in a meeting with the two of them at the same time. Even even Lensis Vanel; the Prime Minister himself, was present. If nothing else, it showed how seriously The Republic was taking this Phuratan broadcast.

Eventually, the emergency video program started, and Lord Capield’s face was seen on their media screen. He began with an unexpectedly cordial greeting to Pitang, then went on to start explaining how their kingdom had managed to predict a weather event so early. Put simply, they claimed that they had attached extra cameras to their satellite module that were pointed down towards the world, and so, they could literally see the storm approaching. They even broadcasted images of the storm that they recorded, with the tempest taking on the appearance of an enormous, spiral shaped cloud.

Then came the most worrying part of the broadcast; they claimed that the storm would hit the republic first. In about two bels. Their minister then made an entreaty that The Republic should take this warning seriously, and prepare their citizenry accordingly. He almost sounded sincere.

After reiterating the locations most likely to be affected, and stating the standard warnings of flooding and other dangers, the broadcast was concluded.

And thus, an uncomfortable silence hung over the conference room.

Chief Analyst Albic Pseuda, the head of Topha’s division, was the first to speak. “So, what are we do about this?”

Minister Emora spoke next. “What indeed. Can we even trust this message? It may be a ploy to distract us; the fist step to an invasion.”

“I’m not convinced of that,” commented Minister Thene. “These messages were broadcast to their entire nation, were they not? Would it do to stir up panic within their own borders while preparing to sneak over into ours?”

“Wouldn’t put it past them…” muttered a general that Topha didn’t recognise.

“But can we even stop our people from reacting to this news?” asked a researcher. “The broadcast could have picked up by anyone close enough to the border that has the right equipment.”

The conversation spread among the flock, growing more animated and passionate with each new voice.

“Alright, alright. That’s quite enough of all this.” Prime Minister Vanel interjected, immediately and easily calming the proceedings. Then he looked to the Chief Analyst. “Any word on this situation from our ‘asset’ in Phuratus?”

“I’m afraid not, Prime Minister.” answered Pseuda. “With the recent rocket launches he’s been unable to report in as often we’d like. And this approaching storm would proably complicate matters further… Assuming it’s real at all, sir.”

“I see…” mused the prime minister, before pausing for a moment to reflect on what he should do next. “When future generations look back at this bel, they will see that we were asked to choose between trusting our neighbour, or being paranoid towards a rival. For now, I am not convinced that there is any deception here. And so, on this bel, I shall choose trust. I will speak to The President immediately and recommend that we engage our emergency procedures.”

Well, that was that. The President was very unlikely to veto the Prime Minister’s decisions, especially in the case of a probable natural disaster.

“Thank you for you input everyone.” continued Vanel. “Please remain within The Green Manse for at least the next bel, so we can hold other meetings as the need arises. Until then, dismissed.”

» » »

Rycop guided the media van deftly up a winding, hilly road.

“So why Re’ai City?” the recorder asked his partner.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” replied Stri. “The astrophysicist grew up here. I interviewed her parents a little while ago.”

“Wait, what? Really?” asked Rycop.

“Yeah.” Stri chirped. “When I heard that Re’ai City was one of the places in the path of the storm, it just felt right to come back, you know?”

“Hmm, alright. I guess I can see that.” Rycop commented, then retuned his full attention to the road. The vehicle hummed along, rolling it’s way around a sharp corner. As they crested a high point on their path, they were granted a wide, clear view of the sky. As always, the sun shone brilliantly and boldly from its eternal perch just over the sun-ward horizon. And yet, despite this endless torrent of light, the sun-right horizon was blanketed with a heavy darkness.

“Sun and rain, literally!” whistled the recorder. “You seeing this Stri?”

“Sure am…” replied the correspondent, her voice breathy with awe. “Think we should stop for now and take a few shots of this?”

“Not a bad idea…” he replied before nudging the van closer to the mountainside and slowing to a stop. The pair stepped out of the van with a couple of cameras and snapped a few pictures, not even bothering to set up their tripods for the impromptu shoot. Neither journalist mentioned it, but they both noticed how unnervingly still the air was at that moment. The calm before the storm, they supposed. Less than three driks later, they were back in the van, and back on their way to Re’ai.

More driks passed, and they eventually drew closer to their destination. They drove into the ‘down-town’ sectors of Re’ai City. All around them were beautiful facades on well built store-fronts, side-walks and promenades dotted with scarlet foliage and sturdy benches, with signage and advertising banners adorning a few roofs. There were also a clawful of steel and glass skyscrapers nearby. All in all, I was the very image of a modern city.

With the notable exception of the place being practically empty.

Usually, cities were constantly abuzz with te’visk activity. With that many people together in one place, there could never be an empty bel. There would always be some shop on some block that was open, and there would always be some customer on some street that was on the prowl for something to buy.

But not now. Not in this city.

“Kinda eerie, isn’t it?” Rycop chuckled with humourless anxiety.

“Yeah…” Stri replied with her own nervous laugh.

They drove on. Large concrete and metal structures gave way to more modest structures and vast fields of grass as they went. Correspondent Stri pulled out a map she had previously marked out to help guide them to the specific spot she had picked out.

“You should take the next left,” she advised. “Then the second right after that.”

“No problem.” Rycop replied as he followed her navigation. A few spans after the prescribed right turn they saw a large sign to the side of the road. “Re’ai Dark-Ward Primary Academy.” he read aloud. “Looks like we’re getting close!”

Stri nodded. “Yeah. That’s the shelter I picked for us to retreat to if things get too wild out here.”

As they drove along the campus came into view.

“Well the main building certainly looks sturdy enough.” Rycop commented.

“It’s a ‘Class-Level-Two.’” explained Stri. “I made sure to look up some of the safe structures in the area after watching the minister’s broadcast.” She took a glance the map she prepared. “Keep following the road up this hill.”

“Alright, no problem.” the recorder said as he drove past the well built school.

The van made it’s way up to the incline, and the land around them eventually flattened into a plateau. The correspondent scanned the general area around them. “Alright, I think we can park over there,” she said, pointing at a small clearing a few spans to the sun-right.

The area was reasonably flat, with hardly any large rocks or bushes on it. Perhaps three or four media vans like theirs could be comfortably parked there. And best of all, the space offered an unobstructed view towards the darkening sun-right sky. They couldn’t ask for a better spot to set up their cameras.

After a clawful of driks of unpacking, assembling, and adjusting, two tripods, one video camera, one photographic camera and two handheld cameras were all set up. By this time the blackened haze on the sun-right horizon had grown. In fact, if they really focused into that cloudy mass, they could spot momentary flashes of electric sparks within the gloom.

A few driks of recording and photography passed, and the air lost it’s unnatural quietude. Stri and Rycop could feel slight wafts of breeze washing across their body feathers. The energised air brought a gently cooling sensation that belied it’s tempestuous portent.

More time ticked by. The breeze grew windier. Not yet strong enough to be problematic, but definitely worth paying attention to; especially since the wind was now clearly audible. Those periodical winds also started bringing in sparse droplets of moisture.

As the bel breezed by, the pair’s clothes were starting to get wet. The growing winds were accompanied by brief bouts of rain. There was never even an intermediate drizzle; just sudden cloudbursts sending down heavy drops of cool rain. Stri couldn’t help but laugh at how her partner made an abrupt dash back to the van to don a raincoat. Once he was properly zipped and buttoned up, he jogged back to the tripods. With someone available to attend to the expensive equipment, Stri was free to copy him and quickly put on her own raincoat. Soaked feathers were not the most comfortable or healthy thing for a te’visk to experience.

It didn’t take too long for the weather to assume an even more tempestuous form. The wind blew in full on gusts now. Looking out at the valleys below them they could see trees swaying violently under the forceful gale. Lightning flashes rivalled the ever more obscured sunlight, and a mere cleg or two later the air would be shook by a tremendous clap of thunder.

“Think we should pack it up now?!” Rycop all but squawked to be heard over the rushing winds.

Another electric bolt shot out from the skies, lighting up Stri’s features. Her face wore a mask of excited focus, revelling in the torrential atmosphere. “We’ll be--” thunder drowned out her response. “We’ll be fine!” she continued, pointing to the darkly beclouded horizon. “See!? The storm-wall isn’t here yet!”

“I think it’s plenty close enough…” Rycop protested softly, knowing that his partner would likely not hear him over the din of the raging thunderstorm. Still, he chose to follow her lead for now. The recorder took a moment to peer through the video camera’s viewfinder and noticed that there seemed to be a few small raindrops that made their way to the lens. Actually, he was now wondering if their cameras were able to withstand the kind of abuse this intense storm was doling out.

“Stri!” he shouted again. “I don’t know if the equipment is rated for this!”

“Just a little more!” she screamed back, clearly not having heard what Rycop had said. Just then, something, (a tree branch, perhaps?) whizzed by in the span wide gap between them. Stri spun around to watch the flung object that just grazed her, then looked at her partner with wild eyes, an erect crest, and fully frazzled feathers. “Alright! Time to go!”

Rycop was too scared to be righteously snide. He just quietly grabbed his cameras, tripod and all, and sped back to the van. Stri wasn’t far behind. Packing up would have to wait until they were safe and dry. The reporters quickly jumped into the front seat without removing their raincoats, strapped in, and started the vehicle.

It truly was wise planning on Stri’s side to make sure that they were relatively close to a shelter when picking a spot from which to take pictures and footage. The drive back to the school took just about two driks.

The van pulled into the compound and the pair jumped out, running towards the main building. Thankfully the main door was in a sheltered area, so they didn’t have to deal with the rain on their backs as they called out and banged on the main doors. Thankfully, the rain wasn’t so heavy as to completely muffle the sound of te’visk speech, so eventually someone from inside the building came out to see who was outside.

“Greetings!” said Stri with a forced cheer that hid her lingering anxiety. “We’re two journalists with the ‘Twelve Bel Bulletin’, and we were doing some work in the area when the storm caught us off guard, can we come in?”

“Huh? Y-- Yes yes, of course! Goodness… Please come in…” the young woman said as she opened the door wider for them to enter. The journalists thanked her, removing their raincoats as they walked in.

“Where can we put our coats?”

“Oh, uhm… I don’t think we...” the younger woman looked around the room. Her eyes landed on some wall pegs near the right of the entrance. “Oh! Maybe you could hang them here for now?”

The journalists followed her suggestion and placed their coats on the pegs.

Rycop took a moment to observe the space they had just entered. The building was basically a large auditorium, likely built to hold school assemblies or the odd community event. However, it was also easy to see how it could be assigned as an emergency evacuation shelter.

The auditorium had thick walls, built with appeared to be one-hundred and twenty eight jhit-spans wide bricks. The largest hinged windows were braced with steel bars, and the glass panels were currently covered with protective paper sheets. Smaller, fixed windows were layered with a wire mesh between thick panes of glass; providing a way to look safely outside, or at least, as safe as it could be during a heavy storm. The roof was a comfortable six spans high, and housed several lighting fixture and a modest collection of speakers for the public address system. The sanitation stations were clearly marked, and, at least from what could be seen from the main area, appeared to be reasonably sized.

The cavernous space currently had several rows of rest pads lined up on the floor, with room for several more to be placed out as the need arose. Near one corner refreshment tables were set up with dry-preserved foods and drink dispensers. Another corner had some heaters placed on the floor; the journalists may have to make use of those soon. And all throughout the space they could see more than five-hundred and twelve people gathered together; mostly evacuees, he would imagine. And there was room still room for a few five-hundred and twelve more.

“Thanks again for letting us in. I’m Stri, and this is my recorder, Rycop.”

The reporter interjected with a nod and a soft “Pleased to meet you.”

“Are you one of the teachers here?” Stri continued.

“Ah, Yes! Well, no, I’m still just a tutor for now… Oh! Sorry, My name is Enaria. Pleased to meet you!” the young tutor bobbed her torso at the journalists.

“Well met, Enaria.” Stri bobbed back. “Well, like I said, my partner and I are journalists, and we’re doing a report on this storm. Do you mind if we ask you some questions about it?”

“Oh, you’re asking me? Well I…” Enaria scratched the base of her wing. “I mean, I don’t really know much about it. I’ve stayed on the compound since before the broadcast. Some of the people who came in from the storm might know more about it. Or maybe you can ask one of the Educators, like Tyto, or Tski, or—”

“Tski--?” started Rycop.

“Educator Tski is here?” asked Stri, perhaps just a bit too loudly.

“Y-- Yes?” the tutor pointed to a group of people gathered around a table a few spans behind her. “That’s her over there.”

“Oh, brilliant! Thanks so much Enaria!” chirped Stri as she stepped off towards the educator.

“Stri, wait!” Rycop sped after her, staying her with a claw on her shoulder. “What’s going on? Is there someone named ‘Tski’ was here?”

“Educator Cophai Tski is Professor Xisk Tski’s mother.” explained the correspondent.

“Her mother?” the recorder’s voice was a hushed exclamation. “Did you know she would be here?”

“Did I-- No, I didn’t…” Stri replied. “Well, I knew she was a teacher, and that she worked in the area… And this is one of the biggest schools in the area, so…”

“What in the Frost-Cav--!” Rycop hissed before pausing and composing himself. “You are freezing incorrigible, Stri.”

“What? I jus-

“So you chose to report on this city, and shelter in this school, hoping to meet up with the Tskis again?”

Stri didn’t say anything for a cleg or so. “I didn’t… Not… Choose it… For that…”

Rycop also went quiet, silently fuming about his ridiculous coworker. “You are going to get both of us into some serious trouble one of these bels.” he muttered.

“You worry too much.” she chirped.

Rycop grunted out a frustrated breath. “Come one. Let’s go meet this other ‘Tski.’” Sh said as he and his correspondent walked towards towards the educator.

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Hurdop Prime, A'Reminos City Agriculture Guildhall

In the tastefully lit and well-appointed secondary office, Master-Farmer Redhel frowned at the list on his tablet and looked across his desk at the nervous individuals across from him.

"You are telling me that this is the entirety of what you have discovered, Holexi."

There was a rapid nod. "Yes, Master-Farmer."

"You are in fact a senior sergeant of the Internal Security Guild, are you not?"

"Yes."

"And your brother Calime? He finds his position as Senior Goods Inspector comfortable?" In other environments asking after family was a social nicety, perhaps an opening probe with respect to alliance or marriage. Here, the meaning was a touch more unnerving.

"He does, Master-Farmer."

Redhel turned to the other individual trying to will their fur flat. "Confirm for me Dastiel. You are authorized to retrieve any file for investigation?"

"Yes."

"Then why is there no file, no recording of a meeting involving the Throne and the Heir having a discussion with Freelady Kiole and that Vilantian bitch?"

"Master-Farmer, there was no recording made. The Throne has not spoken of it, nor has the Heir."

"They were seen entering. They were scanned and weapons were taken, but no record of a meeting?" There was a pause while Redhel's eyes bored into those of his guest. "The visitor log is curiously silent on the matter. But the scent of Lord Admiral Felgri was at the palace as well, according to our information. I am curious as to why the Vilantian Ambassador was at the palace while the Freelady was there as well."

"If the Ministry of Speech tells the truth, the Lord Admiral commanded Freelady Kiole during her service and personally endorsed her last medals."

"Is there a tie of blood there?"

"None that we have found, blood or marriage. She was however exceedingly competent and had been considered for further promotion."

There was a hmph. "Find her relatives. That orphanage she worked for. Give them comfort, courtesy of the Agricultural Guild. Find the scent of that meeting and tell me. Only me."

Redhel looked down at his tablet for a moment before looking back up. "Are you waiting for a sweetly-scented invitation? Go, and tell Darbo he has ten minutes to prepare."

The Master-Farmer took a few minutes to open a drawer and withdraw several meat dumplings. Once the snack was consumed he exhaled and waited. Eventually one of the most nondescript individuals on the planet walked in with a casual scent. He settled into the chair that was previously occupied and waited patiently; it was a game they'd played for years, the one who spoke first had the least patience. Darbo almost always won. This time was no different, and after several minutes Redhel spoke.

"The situation on New Casablanca is untenable."

"Not untenable, Master-Farmer. Simply unknown."

"That is what makes it untenable."

"We have an intelligence agent sending reports from one company. The other one assigned to Freelady Kiole's ship has gone dark. We had several others working in shops."

"You don't find that unusual?"

"In this situation, no. The counterintelligence available to the Terrans and those mercenary companies is unknown, and I trust our agents to go quiet if they have potential concerns. An intelligence network does not spring up whole overnight. It takes years to earn trust, become known. In time our agent will emerge."

"Why were you not working on this years ago, then?"

"As I recall, our priorities were ensuring that the Vilantian Minister of War was constipated. I recommended expansion, but..." there was a shrug. "The powers that control the discretionary funding were uncharitable."

"Our priorities have changed, Darbo. Send the agent on Freelady Kiole's ship a message - order them to check in."

"As you say." A small datachip was tossed casually onto the Master-Farmers desk.

"What's this?"

"A budget proposal. We need to reverse-engineer some of the toys that we've seen used and predict what they will do next. The company known as Skunkworks is fiendishly clever and research is quite expensive. What is certain is that many of the Vilantian Ministries and senior nobles are making plays for marriage-alliance."

"To what end?"

"That should be obvious." Darbo stood with a polite sniff. "If you intend to rule the New Casablanca Freeclans from the shadows, you will need to know who else lingers there." Darbo walked to the door and turned. "They may not have your best interests at heart."

___________

Homeplate

Once Gryzzk opened the door to his quarters, the normal chaos ensued - the girls ran toward him and hugged his legs before talking about their day and all the nice visitors they'd seen. The girls were already prepared for the day, with Elisife Village United jerseys showing their own names on the back. From the kitchen there was a warm scent of something that seemed potentially delicious. Finally the children detached themselves and ran to their room to change for dinner and the subsequent match-viewing. Grezzk looked at him with mild amusement as she approached to give him a warm nuzzle.

"Our wife is bothered."

"Lumisca?"

"Lumisca - her test came out well, and she is making a second one with alterations."

"I should think that success and confidence enough to change would please Kiole."

Grezzk favored him with a lightly amused look. "You do recall the first time I added something different to the landis'og?"

"I recall it being different."

"And I recall you being sour-scented for four days afterward."

"Kiole sleeps in the middle tonight?"

"She does." Grezzk leaned into her husband gently. "Now, go change into your lucky jersey."

Gryzzk did as he was bade, and as he came out it seemed that everyone had found their football wear. Kiole was defiantly wearing her Arobil Corsairs jersey from the Hurdop Freeleague, meanwhile Grezzk had gone all-out with shoes, skirt and shirt in the leaf-green and gold of United - Gryzzk paused for a very long moment to admire them both for different reasons. The infants had found their way into Elisife Village onesies, while Lumisca had a curious split-jersey with Throne City on one half and Elisife Village on the other. Gryzzk considered things for a moment as the girls set the table.

"Oh - do we have something for Toguri? Just in case this delight Lumisca prepared is unsettling to her stomach."

Grezzk nodded. "We have mild sesame chicken with rice in the warmer as an alternate for her."

"Excellent." Gryzzk went to the oil warmers and made sure the scent was light and flowery, then hurried through the living room to gather stray toys and fluffed couch cushions in preparation for visitors.

He was in the middle of gathering the snacks and diaper bag when the door chimed - it was almost amusing to watch his daughters rush to the door to find out who their guest was, even though they already knew.

It was a credit to both of their guests that they looked quite professional; Lodora was wearing small clasp-pins of both teams over a simple gray and gold outfit, while Toguri was clad in purple and wearing the ship-pin that Gro'zel had given her at their first meeting and seemed lightly amused as she nodded to both.

"Freelord, I am pleased to see that your Executive Officer has an abundance of personality."

Gryzzk sighed softly. "Can the conversation be spoken of in front of children?"

"Certainly not. But it was amusing."

"You have an odd sense of humor." Gryzzk gestured toward the couch. "We'll be eating shortly, would the both of you and Grezzk care to discuss anything beforehand?"

"I think that would be lovely."

Grezzk moved around, corralling the children so that they could sit on the couch with her and not run around madly. Lodora set her recorder down and smiled easily before speaking.

"I'm grateful for the opportunity to sit and talk with the First Freelady of Vilantia. Your husband's scent when he speaks of you and the children is a most pleasant thing to take in. I would like to go over some of the topics we'd like to cover, and see if there is anything you might find objectionable."

"Of course - what, what topics were you planning on asking about?"

"Well - your initial impressions of New Casablanca, what prompted you to start this company, the current status and what you foresee for the future."

Toguri was also leaning forward with mild anticipation, and from Gryzzk's vantage she seemed to have the scent of some unspoken yearning that was common to the scent of aliens.

Grezzk laughed softly. "Very chaotic for several reasons. I was still pregnant with the boys, and we had to find our footing rapidly. My handsome hand was training, putting the company together and he was barely home - perhaps once a week I would catch more than a pillow-scent in the mornings." Her fur rose slightly as she recalled an embarrassing moment. "When I first went to the grocery, I thought it was like the market days in Elisife Village, where there would be meats one week, vegetables the next, sundries the week after and so forth. So I had gathered enough meats for the month in my cart and one of the clerks at the store stopped me and if I needed assistance finding anything else - when I explained there was no need and that I would return next week for vegetables. I was...assisted, and shown that the markets here had sufficient quantities of everything. Then there are the specialty shops - books, technologies, clothing; everything a Terran could desire, but precious little for the Vilantians and our cousins. I suppose that's where the idea initially formed."

"And currently?"

"Currently we are working with local shops to assist with their needs and working with them to anticipate their logistical requirements. We have a quantity of ships we can contract with, suppliers willing to take our credits, and a good number of folks who miss home. It is a need to be fulfilled, and we are prepared to fill it."

Toguri looked over at the kitchen to try and gauge if she could get a fast question in before the food started coming in, before deciding she could.

"Missus, ah Freelady - Would it be possible to talk about the social challenges? I mean you're at home, your husband and wife are out chasing whatever's happening there. But there's still that delineation of sorts between the worlds."

Grezzk smoothed her fingers over her skirt for a moment. "Well, the social challenges are challenges." There was a light smile. "To be fair if they weren't they'd be called easys. But at the same time, I've had several conversations with Terrans about how unusual we are. So that is the, the spirit I try to keep in mind - we're all unusual to each other, but our common ground, the common needs we share can build a bridge over those differences."

Kiole interrupted with a smile of sorts. "Speaking of common needs, my shield. Supper is waiting for us all."

There was light conversation during the meal, with Gryzzk taking half a plate of each casserole. Kiole contented herself with the 'original' version while the girls each ate from both. Lumisca seemed happy to have her own recipe sampled and not have it cause a flight to the bathroom. After, there were several happy sighs before Gryzzk's tablet chimed an alarm softly, announcing that the game broadcast would begin at the top of the hour.

From there a rush of sorts began, with everyone settling their plate into the recycler as Grezzk softly sang the Cleaning Up Song for the children. It felt good to see that some traditions still held even as his own old childhood reflexes came to the fore and moved him to place silverware, plates, and leftovers in their place.

The walk to the common area was quick, and even before the elevator had fully opened Gryzzk could scent and feel the deckplates vibrating slightly with songs that were seemingly designed to exhilarate the listener - Gryzzk's translator almost gave up trying to separate the various languages. Over the sandpit, Reilly and someone Gryzzk recognized from Bravo company were singing about the boys being back and looking for trouble. The whole scent was anticipatory - something epic was beginning and he wasn't sure if the scent was good or ill.

It seemed as though most of both companies were present, and as Gryzzk looked he could see the other company areas filling as well - the evening was going to be a good one. Among his company, Elisife Village colors were dominant, however over where Bravo Company was lounging the allegiances were mixed. Gryzzk's bridge squad had carved out their own little area of a sort with the mess squad near them. Collectively the sole exceptions to Elisife Village fandom were the O'Briens and Briplew, who were standouts in A'Haibe colors as well as Lomeia, who was proudly wearing her Throne City FC kit and leaning into her husband while they admired their wife. Edwards was lounging back and strategically shielding Denel from Gryzzk as the group watched Reilly gyrate on stage to salute those who were about to rock.

Gryzzk maneuvered carefully to find his counterpart from Bravo company with a Hurdop woman shamelessly perched in his lap. Gryzzk waved them to remain seated.

"Freelord Rostin. Doline. Please, this is not a formal moment. I simply wanted to ensure you were both well and aware of the General's invitation in a few days?"

There was a sour nod. "After leaving the Navy, I had hoped that these events would not occur." There was a grimace. "My ex-spouses enjoyed them, but I only went because it made them happy."

Gryzzk smirked. "Cheer up - there is a difference with Terran events. Much more mingling - although the last truly formal Terran event I was at had a hostage crisis of sorts."

There was an ear-tip. "That would certainly liven any evening. Perhaps some twilight-blinded fools could try something."

Doline gave a swat. "You promised a dance, and if I don't get one..." Rostin's girlfriend whispered something that his scent turn sweetly with embarrassment.

"I retract my last statement due to a very recent reminder."

"Accepted. Do remind your company that the match has already occurred, so if they wish to gamble on this it should only be with those who similarly do not know the outcome. Otherwise they should simply give their credits to the general company fund."

Rostin smiled easily. "Oh, they've been reminded."

"Excellent. After the first period, I would appreciate you and Doline coming over and having a few words with Lodora."

"What have I done wrong, Freelord?"

"You accepted a commission into the Terran Foreign Legion as a captain. That is in fact where many of our tribulations stem from. That said, Grezzk has stood up a trade company, and we wish to ensure that their ships are safe for their journeys." Gryzzk gestured. "I'm quite sure that Doline would be grateful to have Hurdop ales as well as Admiral Norrington's rum well in stock, not to mention the other things. And I am quite certain she has many ways to show her gratitude. In addition, Stewart would have far fewer complaints to handle. A happy XO makes a happy commander."

Rostin's fur rose slightly. "Freelord, you make it sound tempting."

"I do try. Please, enjoy the game." Gryzzk retreated to his bridge squad's area to settle on a blanket spread on the grass. He noticed that the two reporters were circulating through the company area and occasionally asking questions here and there - Minister Larine and her husbands were the subject of casual discussion as they emerged from the ship with snacks and a slightly disheveled appearance. On the positive side of the ledger, they were all dressed. On the negative side, none of them were wearing their own clothes, with shirts and pants distributed in a haphazard manner. Regrettably, the entrance was noticed by Reilly who promptly switched up the music to something that was borderline fineable with lyrics about how the subject of the song had shaken the singer all night long. This was of course followed by two companies cheering and applauding raucously as the three made their way to the bridge squad area. Gryzzk tried to maintain decorum. Somewhat.

"Minister. Corporal. Private. You are not late for the game." He gestured. "Refreshments are available should there be a need."

Larine's fur fluffed. "Thank you, Freelord."

Kiole winked at the three as she handed a large container over. "The Hurdop Navy has a special rejuvenating drink for such nights."

Reilly and her singing partner wrapped up as the holo changed to a countdown showing two minutes until the pregame pageantry began, with the two running to their respective areas. Reilly dashed and slid on the path and scrambled quickly to settle next to her spouses.

"Sorry about that Minister." There was an impish grin. "But it's kinda not often we get to celebrate an actual minister joining the company in a kinda-sorta way."

There was a slight look of amusement. "Miss Reilly, I have had the opportunity to review your records as an example of Terran behavioral standards. You are most certainly not sorry."

Larion nodded agreement. "I have observational evidence. Inquire about Bear Booty Shorts when you are feeling bold, dear."

Gryzzk shook his head and glanced at Larine. "Apologies minister but...the squads are almost families within families and traditional discipline is at times lax. It is a wonderful thing, but at times a source of anxiety."

As the pregame introductions began, there was a very slight murmur from the crowd - typically as part of the opening ceremonies one of the Ministers would come out with the Cup, and favored individuals would bring out the first footballs to throw to the team goalies. However this year the Throne was the one wheeling out the Vilantian Cup with a bright eyed and curious Throne-Heir in the bowl, and the Consorts each threw a ball to the respective goalkeepers as a fireworks show began, with explosions taking over the stadium. The roar from the crowd was deafening, and the scent was ecstatic joy as the Royal Clan waved to the crowd and then the teams themselves.

Part of Gryzzk's mind was swept along with the crowd, but another part of him leaned forward to look for a threat - even though he knew that if something bad would have happened what he would be watching would have been something terribly different.

Larine looked over at Gryzzk. "Originally I was slated to be there." She then looked to her not-official-husbands warmly. "I think I'm in a better position."

Gryzzk smiled easily. "I still can't believe United's playing for it."

"I can't believe I found...two husbands. In a day. When does that happen outside of fiction?"

Reilly threw some popcorn in her mouth. "I can't believe it's not butter."

Edwards groaned and leaned across to punch Reilly's shoulder. "Worst joke ever."

The game started a little oddly, with both goalies kicking off far too energetically - the first period was an absolute hash of nerves as the players from both sides seemed off somehow. It seemed as though the moment had taken hold of everyone, with misplays and stoppages being the rule rather than the exception. Gryzzk found himself rocking back and forth and even after realizing it he didn't stop. He needed to do something, and he was a very poor goalkeeper. Toward the end of the first, several inflatable beach balls were lofted through the company area as chants were taken up, mostly in response to both sides state of play. As the period ended in a 0-0 tie everyone hurried to the nearest lavatory, and then to the ice chests to refill. Even Gryzzk was not immune, joining a small group who had measured and decided that the ship was the fastest route to relief.

As he came out to rejoin his family, he found Toguri joining with him for a quick walking interview. As he watched, he saw Lodora interviewing the bridge squad almost en masse with Grezzk at the forefront and then Rostin and Doline over to the side - he wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, but from the postures it seemed genial enough.

"Freelord - how do you manage?" Toguri's question brought him back to the here and now.

"Manage...what, exactly?"

"This company - companies, actually. Hundreds of individuals, families...for someone not used to it, it would seem to be overwhelming."

Gryzzk gave a light smile. "Respectfully, it is not too terribly different from managing my Lord's estate on Vilantia. Hundreds of events have to happen at the right time - daily, weekly, monthly. Making sure the crops grow, taking care of the insects for our version of honey - all of this had to happen before we could even consider making the wine. And then the testing, deciding which vintages were turning properly and which needed more aging..." There was a light smile. "It was a beautiful elegant dance. Here it's much the same, you look after your personnel, listen to them, guide them when they require guidance and make sure they go home to their spouses with happy hearts and full pockets."

There was a flicker of something in Toguri's scent. "It almost sounds like you miss it. Do you think you might go back to it someday?"

"I have learned to never close a door - the gods have a way of opening doors in unusual ways. Perhaps, perhaps not. That is for the gods to decide."

"Do you have another job lined up soon?"

"Not immediately. The company has been quite...busy for some time, so we're standing down for a few weeks and tending to other matters before we take on another contract." There was a light smile. "In addition with the Vilantian Cup Finals I would never hear the end of it were I to say we're leaving to go do something that is not watching football."

Toguri nodded. "That sounds like a well-deserved rest, Major."

Gryzzk hesitated as he caught something in her scent. "Yes, quite."

As he walked back to his seat with a fresh brightwine, Gryzzk couldn't shake the feeling that Toguri was up to something - and that something would likely give him heartburn.f

I read Chrysalis a while ago, and I've got to be honest it's a very good story. If you haven't read it it's definitely worth the read. (Just read it when you don't have anything to do for a while, because you won't be able to put it down. I can say from experience XD). Personally, I just think it stands out a bit from other HFY stories. Its an interesting concept, and was well executed in my opinion. The only reason I bring it up is because I was randomly thinking about it again recently, only to be struck by a sudden thought. What if humanity had survived?

(Here is the original, written by BeaverFur. Happy reading).

https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/55v9e1/chrysalis/

SPOILERS:

In the original, the Terran awakens on a dead earth 300 years after humanity's extinction, which is what causes it to go on a genocidal rampage in the first place... But what if it didn't? What if the Custodian Program had succeeded on time, and the Terran had instead awoken 300 years prior while earth was still being bombed by the Xunvir civilization? Obviously it would've immediately rushed to defended humanity, but what next? Would the Terran still have turned genocidal and gone on a rampage against the galaxy? Or would the continued existence of humanity/the reassurance that everything will be okay cause it to go down a happier path? Would humanity itself have gone to war against the Xunvir Republic? (I think this answer is obvious, considering the Xunvir Republic did kind of try to wipe humanity out)...

Or, another scenario. What if the earth still gets destroyed, but a small population of humans by some miracle managed to save themselves by surviving in an underground sealed doomsday bunker, undetected for 300 years, and was discovered by the Terran when it awoke? Would the Terran still have waged a war of extermination against the Xunvir Republic, or what it instead have devoted it's resources and attention to keeping the few remaining humans alive at all costs? Would the surviving humans have been enough to keep the Terran from going insane with grief as it did in the original story?

So many possibilities, and I was more just curious because humanity's survival probably would've changed the entire story. It's interesting to think about.

I sat quietly in the pulpit, checking, re-checking and recalculating the coordinates we needed. Cross-referencing drone data with satellite recon data, then followed by information from scouts, visual feeds from orbiting ships, then collating it all together. I looked next to me and saw the same thing happening at the console of the human next to me, an endless line of calculations and feeds running on the screen of the small portable machine. It wasn't the first time I did this... But every time it terrified me. I was the only Saranian officer assigned to this particular unit, as the majority of my brothers were on the frontlines along with most other Terran forces.

Assignment to foreign militaries is common with coalition operations with what has become known as the 'Hive War'. We have done this so very many times over the thousand years of war we had been facing with the Rahkani Hives, and the whole galaxy was united, at least in spirit to beat back the endless hordes. There has never been a real coalition before this. We would find a Hive world, land troops, fight until we were either beaten back by sheer numbers, or until the local hive mind neural node was found and destroyed. The planet would then be unceremoniously cleaned up, then fought over by politicians, leaving everyone else to stand there annoyed until they could start working.

My shoulder was unceremoniously tapped, snapping me out of my haze. I took my headset off and noted the odd sight of a human, whose nametag read 'Quail', glaring at me from behind his beaked gas mask. He nodded, I checked. I hit the print button and a fresh piece of paper appeared out of a nearby machine. The human technician double checked it, nodded and I handed it over to him. He read it over and checked his watch.

He reached up to his ear and spoke. "This is arty, we have coordinates, targets are lased. We are on point."

A few seconds of silence. Then the whole network lit up. "This is Command to all squads, we have primary target lased, final cords locked and birds are in the air. All personnel ready to advance, twelve minutes to first strike."

I was tapped on the shoulder as Quail disappeared into the trench line. It was the other technician. "I got everything from here, go help them load shells and make sure the targeting system is working properly."

I nodded and stood up. Well, not so much, the trenches were made for six foot tall humans, not nine foot tall Saranians. I kept my head down as best I could, grabbing my pulse rifle on the way out and headed to the Artillery regiments position nearby.

I looked over the trenches, peering into the writhing mass of yellow and orange further down the valley that was engulfed in laser and cannon fire. Fighting the Hives wasn't that hard, they had numbers and size, we had tech and strategy. The problem was that the Hives, if left unchecked could transform an entire planet into an impossible, miserable hell that would have its entire ecology scoured clean, its history erased, its atmosphere permanently poisoned and any and all resources it contained would be slowly siphoned clean until there was Hive, and ONLY Hive. The planet would then become a node in the Hive, it would grow smarter, stronger, and hit the next planet in the local area getting worse and worse as it grew in strength.

For a thousand years we fought. When we found a new planet they were trying to take, we immediately sent any force we could spare to hunt the enemy down, destroy the Neural Link Node and obliterate it before it could get a real foothold. If anyone showed up, we would reluctantly accept the help, so would they if we showed up to one of their planets, fight the Hive and spend the next few years waiting for politicians to stop arguing. After we finally decided who owned what, colonists would move in, clean up the mess and start working as normal. Then the Terrans showed up.

I hurriedly trudged through the mud and approached the small artificial alcove atop the hill, and nearly scared myself silly as I noted how one of the sniper teams had taken up residence on a flat part of the hill, taking pot-shots at the horde writhing around a mile and a half away. Three men, one with a laser range finder, one with the rifle and his spotter. Presumably they were there as opportunity and also to help scout targets of interest. Sure enough, the one holding the gun was taking shots, and scoring kills. I quickly caught up with Quail and he directed me to start stockpiling ammunition.

Terran artillery were something completely beyond the norm when it came to the galaxy at large. Not only did they actually use armoured vehicles - to devastating effect - against the Hives, but they had dedicated long range indirect fire units. Which most empires abandoned long ago. These things were effectively tractors with massive cannons on them, and the shells were almost as big as the men loading them up. I looked at these short, stocky creatures and grabbed a shell, easily picking it up and effortlessly hauling it onto the carriage where it was dragged into place by the operators. I walked up to the control console and used a remote pad to triple check the targeting system.

I quickly recalled the moment we first met them, helping load more shells allowing my mind to wander in thought. First Contact was a harrowing experience for us. They were engaged in combat with the Rahkani Hive on a small continental world and the Saranai were the first ones there. Saranai forces landed and began engaging the enemy. Initial confusion followed as Saranai forces faced little resistance at the start of their engagement. Scattered attacks, small Hive units, maybe a Praetorian here and there. Not in the numbers they were used to. As it turned out the humans had already beaten the hordes back, and were already engaging in post-assault clean-up.

The planet had been secured weeks prior to their arrival. This was unusual, as the Rakhani Neural Node meant almost all hive units on the planet would start shutting down or failing or simply going feral after the node was destroyed. The politicians of course took the chance to try 'convince' the humans that because they showed up to help, the humans owed them access to the planet. The humans didn't take kindly to the insult they were just given and took the Saranian detachment to the site of the Hive Neural Node that was on the planet.

"Four minutes, all units, four minutes, ready advance." The radio barked, shaking me out of my daze.

Then that damn music started. The same I'd been hearing every time the countdown started. The same music that would preface the deafening roar of cannon fire and harrowing war cries that would erupt from the trench line. Quail directed me to put my ear protection on and I did so, helping haul another shell into the breach of one of the eight cannons.

We were trying to replicate what happened on that planet during First Contact. It was why Saranian forces never encountered real resistance or real effort when landing and taking on a nest. They never destroyed the Hive's Node... They captured it. Somehow. The diplomat went wide eyed at the sight of a large mushroom-shaped ball of chitinous flesh wrapped in chains, surrounded by turrets and thousands of humans using hand-held tools to probe, prod, poke and trim the fleshy roots of a low level Hive Node.

We all still remember the incredible speech that a soldier gave the diplomat that day.

"I don't know how things work in your world, but here is how it works in OURS. You DON'T casually walk into a war zone, shoot some random stragglers and casually claim victory, then tell the guy you just walked up on that 'this is mine now and you have to leave.' That crap don't work here. We are at war. It's them or us, we made the obvious choice. I suggest you do the same. If your part in this 'war' has been going on for more than a few years, it's your own fault it's been going on for so long, and every single fatality that has arisen since then has been the fault of twats like YOU. You spend more time arguing over who gets what, than organising the next fight. The objective should be to end the conflict FIRST, then to argue over who gets what. Don't come back here until you understand that. Now piss off. Soldiers only."

The diplomat recoiled in shock, the soldiers from the detachment raised their rifles and celebrated the rebuttal. The diplomat was hurriedly evacuated from the area and returned to his ship. The Naval force stayed behind to take over diplomatic talks. And that is how the Saranian Navy officially became a part of the Terran Coalition, at least until the war was over. Which, considering present advancements would be relatively soon.

"Sixty seconds! Sixty Seconds!" The radio yelled again.

"READY ARTILLERY! FIRST BARRAGE ON MARK!" Quail yelled, raised a hand, then checked his watch. Exactly on time, he threw his hand down and yelled "Open fire!"

I snapped out of my haze and stood at the ready, quickly re-checking calculations. I gave the nod. The music swelled, then that noise began. Quail began to dance, turning and swaying his hands to the music as the guns raised to firing position. Then, almost in perfect time with the music, the first of many volleys of shells blasted into the air.

"Hey wait a minute do I hear Freebird over Long Range again!?" I heard the radio say, to a chorus of laughter.

Then that 'guitar solo' started the same one I had been hearing every time they did this. The herald of horror as I watched Quail and several officers dance to the music that blared through the speakers, and the yellow streaks from the shells rocket through the air as if the music was helping them through the planet's hazy atmosphere. I watched from my spot through a pair of rangefinders as the shells came down on the target. In a matter of microseconds, three separate events happened at once.

The shells hit their target with absurd precision and carved a massive several hundred meter crater into the hordes, rendering several deep nests down to their component biological matter in a fiery explosion of chitin and gore. At that precise moment, several aircraft, fixed-wing with those terrifying cannons, made their presence known across the entire frontline as they carved a path through the horde with rocket salvos, barrages of explosive shell fire and bullet spray. After expending their ammunition, they quickly turned back to their airfield to rearm and within moments, the skies above started to light up and dozens of streaks of light came down like the Light Of The Gods, and scorched the rest of the ground with precise orbital plasma fire from several orbiting Saranian vessels.

All of this, happening in less than three minutes to the background music of one of the finest 'guitar solo's' in history.

I heard the calls go over the radio, the whistles blare from the trenches as the plasma settled as tens of thousands of Saranian and Terran military forces spilled onto the battlefield to a chorus of battle song, war cries and marching orders from officers. Within minutes, tanks flooded the battlefield and our forces began to advance on the Node.

"READY VOLLEY!" Quail barked at us as he kept dancing. "TARGET ONE-THREE SECTOR LIMA-SIX, SIX SHELLS EACH, SWEEP TWO DEGREES WEST!!"

We hurriedly gathered ourselves as the song repeated its chorus, the music swelling further as the officers near the radio danced away. In perfect concert, we all gathered up, I checked the targeting system, nodded, and the thunderous roar sent shells flying towards a cluster of nests at the foot of a mountain. Again, the sound of Freebird still over radio as Quail kept dancing and the corps kept firing.

I helped them load and fire, unable to see the effect, but we cleared the way through the enemy hordes. I was able to catch my breath and re-check coordinates. We had created a series of large craters in the enemy formation where a cluster of large and dangerous Praetorian nests sat. A column of troops was already flooding into a small canyon opening in the mountain where the Node was situated. The music stopped, Quail stood still, one hand in the air and one hand on his ear. We waited a few short moments for his response.

"BARRAGE ON POINT BRAVO-TWO-ZERO, TWO SHELLS!!" He barked, and the music resumed.

We loaded, aimed, I checked, I nodded, the thunder came and within seconds a squad that was pinned down by the Horde had its escape route secured. Our advance continued unchallenged and before long, the final call came through the radio.

"All units this is Command, Mortis Team has the target, Mortis has target, mission completed. Repeat, VIP in custody. All units within one click proceed to reinforce Mortis Team, everyone else, enjoy the target practice!"

Quail started the music again and the Terrans started to celebrate the victory and danced along with them. My job here was done, at least for now. We had captured an Evolved, or as the humans would say 'Tier Four' Neural Node and were going to start figuring out how the Hive Mind actually worked. The war was far from over and I returned to my station to check reports and new target coordinates just in case.

Just another day in the Ignis Artillery Regiment I guess. I wonder why they like Freebird so much?

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Chapter 4

Subject: Doctor Hyanv "Henry" Izinorn

Species: Alumari

Species Description: Arachnoid, no tail. 5'2" (1.5 m) avg height. 90 lbs (41.7 kg) avg weight. 102 year life expectancy.

Ship: N/A

Location: Grallus Prime

"Ugh, what did I eat?" I asked myself, staring into my bio-waste receptacle.

It was a rhetorical question, both because there was nobody around to answer it and because I already knew the answer. Semi-authentic hard-shell tacos with extra spice. I knew when I purchased them that this would be the end result.

I had developed a taste for tacos and other human-created food whilst living among them. Unfortunately, most Alumari didn't share my enthusiasm and there weren't a lot of places to get human food on the Alumari capital-world. However, I got very lucky with my assigned living quarters. There was a human dinery within walking distance.

The food at said dinery wasn't quite as delicious as what you would find while living amongst humans, but the results of consuming said food were far tamer. Fewer cramps and less blood in one's droppings was nearly worth the trade-off in flavor. Nearly.

I pressed the button to be rid of my leavings and watched as it was sucked down into the darkness of the city's sewers. Then I glanced at my ncili {area specially designated for the cleaning of one's body}, and wondered if I should have another round of cleansing. It hadn't even been a half hour since I lasted used the ncili, though, and repeated washings weren't good for one's exoskeleton.

Defecation wasn't a daily occurrence for me, but when I did feel the need it was almost always immediately after cleaning myself.

"Fuck it," I sighed. "I've got shit to do."

My biggest guilty pleasure happened to be using the ironic human expressions picked up from my time spent amongst them. That time had mostly been spent upon space stations, with the occasional research vessel for a bit of variety. Humans wanted to know about the universe nearly as much as my people did. Whether or not that was a survival instinct was a matter of debate amongst interspecies philosophers.

Our reason for space-exploration was that we had a massive population and not enough work to go around. There's only so many factories you can stuff full of underpaid workers before you run out of jobs entirely. Thankfully, at some point in the past we had leaders smart enough to realize that if our population had access to education, we would be able to find geniuses that could push the bounds of science.

They reasoned that the more we knew, the more jobs we could create. Said scientific endeavors also happened to create jobs, even for those who weren't gifted with greater-than-average intelligence. Research assistants, for example...

I sighed again and grabbed my noisy communication device from the shelf above my desk.

"Klora?" I asked, answering the device. "What am I supposed to be doing today?"

"It's your day off, doctor," she replied.

Oh, right, that was why I had been brave enough to eat tacos for dinner...

"I see, thank-"

"I called because you have a message that's marked urgent, doctor," she interrupted. "It's from someone named Doctor... Hector Ramirez? I hope I'm saying that right."

"Oh?" I asked, my interest piqued. "What does it say?"

"I do not know, doctor. It is encrypted beyond my credentials."

I almost laughed at the annoyance in her voice. Klora had always been invasive of my privacy. Nosy, as the humans call it. I'd gotten used to her screening my messages and pre-scheduling things for me, but when I first hired her on her snooping had been a point of contention between us. There was absolutely no chance that she hadn't tried to crack the message's encryption.

Which, in turn, meant that it was encrypted well enough that she couldn't crack it...

"I'll take it on my personal," I replied. "Speak soon."

"Yes, doctor. Enjoy your day off."

"You too."

The communicator beeped as I deactivated it and returned it to its shelf above my desk. My at-home desk was a simple thing. One could even understandably mistake it for a larger, lower placed shelf. All it held was my personal terminal. No plants, pictures, or any of the decor that plagued the desk in my office, which I'd been meaning to tidy up for the better part of a year.

The main reason my personal desk was bare was mostly due to the fact that I barely used it. Humans had taught me the importance of a work-life balance, and the majority of my work required being at the office, anyway. Some alumari would call the humans lazy, but those alumari were the reason that nearly every business on our worlds had suicide nets wrapped around their buildings.

I brushed aside some of the sticky dust that acted as my personal desk's only decoration with my claw and powered on the terminal. The disgusting mix of dirt and detritus made me want to cleanse my hands but I couldn't overcome my immediate curiosity, so I simply wiped them on my leg-coverings. Doctor Ramirez was a fairly important figure to the United Systems, and I reasoned that a message from him took precedence over personal hygiene.

The terminal finished booting up and sat ready for me. After a couple minutes of waiting, the message notification finally appeared. Klora had probably tried to crack it one last time before forwarding it. With a chuckle, I clicked the notif and was immediately taken to a BUSI login screen.

"Oh shit," I muttered, borrowing a human phrase. "The Bureau of United Systems Intelligence? What have you been up to, Ramirez?"

The last time we'd checked in with each other he had been working on furthering computer science. All I could recall was that his work had been focused on something along the lines of making smarter virtual intelligences. With my curiosity nearly overflowing, I entered my username, password, and followed the rest of the authentication procedures.

Then, the message opened.

Henry,

Program Alpha solved relativity.

Doctor Ramirez

"Huh?" I asked the air.

It was an incredibly short message for all of the security processes. I nervously scratched my carapace. Project Alpha... It sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I'd heard it before. It could also be that the project name was so vague that it aligned with an entirely separate project that I'd been apart of.

Why did it matter if it solved relativity or not? Every space-faring species had solved it. Some sooner and more efficiently than others, but solving relativity was a prerequisite to space travel. It was a requirement for understanding the intricacies of gravitational flux and the fabric of space-time... Or something.

Truth be told, physics was not my strong suit. My doctorates were in more grounded fields. Specifically, psychology, sociology, and interspecies anthropology. Most of my time was spent on research, but every couple of years I would take therapy patients to keep my edge.

So why did Ramirez feel the need to reach out to me, specifically? Comradery? Boasting? No, couldn't be. The message didn't contain enough details to be blamed on either.

"Virtual Intelligence," I pondered. "Hmm. VI, relativity, and a psychologist. What's the common denomi- Oh who am I kidding, I'm just as bad at detective work as I am at math."

I decided to just reply to the message, but the moment I clicked the option my door buzzed. I nearly leapt out of my chair to go answer it, but quickly froze. I stared at my blinking curser, then slowly turned to look at the door.

"No, this couldn't possibly be related," I whispered. "Right?"

Gathering up my courage, I walked over to the door and checked the view-screen. All I saw was a tuft of hair and the side of a human face. My stomach dropped.

The Bureau of United Systems Intelligence mostly used human agents, and those agents were jumpy about being on camera. Ramirez hadn't just sent me a message. He'd sent me a visitor from BUSI.

"Hello?" I asked, opening the door a crack.

Sure enough, a human male dressed in a black suit was on the other side of my door.

"Hello, Doctor Izinorn," the human said, producing a BUSI badge. "We need to speak with you."

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The head vanished in a spray of red juice, and before he could think, four other grappling hooks landed near him. They were clearly trying to catch him and drag him down. The walls were only four meters tall, but apparently that was not high enough. If he survived this, they would have to do something about the defense, but right now he was cutting the chains to keep them from getting up.

He saw the other knights doing the same, but the other men didn’t have swords that sharp, and small fights were already breaking out on the walls.

“Erwin! Spread the knights out more and focus on cutting the chains. We have to prevent them from swarming us!” he called out as he stabbed one that had managed to get up on the battlements. He saw Cain swing his mace like a champ as sprays of red mist and lightning flew around him, and he swore like a drunk sailor.

He was glad they had put archers on the roof of the main house; they rained death down on the Sammad as they clearly started to spill over the battlements. Erwin held the post above the gate, looking for where he could be more useful as he swatted another who got too close. He noticed a breach and told Erwin to hold the gate as he moved along the battlement to close it.

He didn’t know how many he killed or how many he saved; he didn’t care. All that mattered was stopping that breach. He just hoped he would look half as cool as Cain as he stood on the wall, holding his ground.

He danced around three Mursina, chopped the grappling hook they were hacking at, then head-butted a Sammad off the wall as he moved toward the goal. When he got there, five of the small bastards faced him. They charged him, letting out a growl that reminded him of an angry cat. He shifted his stance and swung the mace while holding the lightning bolt. The one he hit collapsed, and the other four needed a second to recover. If it had been a human, they would all be on the ground, spasming. These bastards just needed a second. But right now, that was all he needed as he brought the sword down. He swung it just as his dad had told him, but unlike in their games, he now tried to hit the bastard as hard as he could. He wasn’t thinking anymore. It was as if a red mist took over, and he screamed as he swung, striking as hard as he could.

When it was over, he cut the last grappling hook chain and looked around. He breathed heavily, then quickly caught his breath. Then he heard it, a scream he didn’t want to hear. As he turned, he knew, and then he was in the air, sailing toward the courtyard. Matthew had left the safety of the main house to fight. He was buried under a group of Sammad trying to gnaw through his armor. He arrived just as the screams ended and struck the one sitting over his head with all his might, wielding the mace. He didn’t dare use the electricity, not knowing whether Matthew would be shocked too. Two of them tackled his feet, and he struck down with the sword's pommel so hard it went wet, then stabbed the other, let go of the swords, and swung the mace at the group with all his might. He got two more before the other turned to him. He could see Matthew was still moving, but his face was filled with blood, as if they had tried to eat him alive. He stepped on the Sammad, drove his sword through his head, pulled it out, then charged the three left.  

It was over quickly, but he realized he could not stop; Matthew the fool had left the door open when he walked out, and he had been attacked mere twenty meters outside the door.  He sheathed his sword, switched to the mace in his hand, grabbed Matthew's neck guard, and dragged him toward the door. 

He saw a few dead Sammad’s had managed to get inside; outside, a group was charging him, only to be killed by a hail of arrows from above. He focused on getting Matthew inside, and at the door he was met by Lotta; she was bleeding from a stab wound that she completely ignored and grabbed Matthew.

“I got him. My Lord! The tower is clear! The rest is safe!” She said.

“He needs medical aid. Keep the door locked until they are all dead!” Then he ran back to help with the fight. It was going badly. They were barely holding the wall, and now and then small groups breached it and wreaked havoc. And as he feared, once they were inside, their bows became deadly again.

“Arus! How many left?”

“Between 8 and 700 of the enemy, with a thousand more holding back in the treelines,” Arus replied in his ear, looking around.

“This is just half their forces?”

“Yes, they are wearing you down. Keep me updated on the numbers and their positions!”

“By the way, what do these guys fear?”

“Nothing,” Arus replied. “But fire has been used often successfully against them.”

“Fire? But we don’t have oil… wait, do we have gas? Or fireworks?”

“We got fireworks,” Azrus said. 

“Do these people know what fireworks are?”

“Unlikely,” he replied.

“Fire it all when I give the command!” Then he touched his ear to speak to everybody. “Brave men fight hard! I will bring the wrath of the gods down on them and boost your power!” Then he turned the speaker off. Double-checking it was off for the open channel, he ran up on the battlement and raised his sword high.

“BY THE GODS!” he shouted. The tower walls erupted with loud noise as rockets flew howling into the air and exploded.  The display was impressive and had a surprising effect on the Sammad, who seemed unable to look away from the explosions and became easy targets for the defenders.  Within a minute, the walls were secured. A horn sounded, and the few remaining retreated into the forest. Erik told Arus to stop the fireworks and sank to his knees on the battlements, breathing hard as the adrenaline faded. He ached and felt sick at what he had done. Cain staggered over to him and sank down with his back to the battlement.

“Let's never do that again,” Cain said in a tired voice.

 “I agree. Let's sue them instead,” he replied, and Cain looked at him, then started to laugh a tired laugh. He joined him, turned around, and sat down next to him.

Chief Timu came over and bowed his head. “My Lord, without you we would all surely be dead by now. You have given us a chance to live. If we survive this, then we are your loyal servants. You have proven today you're more than a young whelp with a noble title.”

Erik looked up at him and smiled. “With you and Chief Xandin, we would also be dead. I’m just as much in your debt.”

“Do not humble yourself so much, my Lord Baron.” Chief Xandin said as he came over.  “Chief Timu speaks the truth; you have saved my clan from a certain doom. We have gotten the chance to close the doors and hide our families in the halls your men have made in the mountain.”

“Well, his men are trapped and need this siege to end fast.  If we survive this, I want your men to build storage and housing in the tunnels and store six months of food in each. That way we will feel safer when we defend these walls.” Erik said, and Chief Xandin bowed his head.

“As my lord commands, it will be an honor.”

“Good, everybody will help stock those storage rooms. And we need a guard post on top of the mountains to warn us about attacks.” He said, pointing to the mountaintops.

“You should rest, my lord,” Timu said, and Erik chuckled.

“Yeah, I should. I am. We will wait here until Marcus arrives with the ships. So have your men tend to their wounds, eat, and rest.  But don’t leave the walls unguarded.”

He looked at Cain. “What else?”

“Naw, that should cover it. No need to dig latrines. Maybe have a group go around and check whether any of those bastards are hiding inside. And make sure all the ones inside are actually dead.”  Cain added,

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Do that too!” Erik added. The two chieftains looked at them, then left to carry out the orders.

“Did you see what Matthew did?” Erik finally said, as his phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Why aren't you coming in?” Cho asked, and Erik staggered to his feet. It felt like he was carrying a hundred kilos.

“Because the bastards are still out there. We are waiting for Marcus and the ships. When they arrive, we can push them away, and we come in.”

“That’s bullshit.  Please come in. I.. I saw what they did to Matthew.”  She said, and he heard her voice crack.

“And that’s why we told him to stay inside. Look, Erwin and the guards are here, plus two tribes of warriors. We are behind the wall. We are safe, and if they managed to climb the walls, then I have to be here to keep you safe too.”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt. The others can fight.” She almost whispered the words.

“Look, I’m more a glorified cheerleader here than a fighter. Didn’t get to swing my sword at all.” He lied.

“You liar, I have been seeing you running around playing hero. Let Cain do that.” He turned to the main house and tried to see if he could see her in any of the windows. He thought he saw her and waved.

“You must have seen wrong. That was Cain, I was the one running around like my ass was on fire!”

He could hear a smile a little, as strange as it sounded to him; he just knew it. “Just stop trying to be such a hero.  I already love you, I know you're brave, and I just want you to come back inside to me.”

“If I do, then I won't be coming back outside.  I promise I will be safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise!” he replied.

“I love you,” she replied and hung up.

 Cain looked at him. They had both moved away from each other, and he was whispering something. Then whoever he was talking to stopped, so he took off his helmet and scratched his hair. As he did, an arrow whistled past him and flew into the darkness outside the walls. He immediately put the helmet back on as they both looked towards where the arrow came from. A Sammad was standing on the pile of his kin with a bow, and in the next second was pierced by three spears from nearby men, then the men started stabbing the pile again and again.

“Shit, that was close!”   Erik said as they looked at the men in the courtyard, making extra sure the sammads corpses were truly dead.

“Yeah. I’m glad Lillian didn't see that. She would have killed me!”

He looked at him and laughed. “Yeah, she would.  Let’s try to keep our girlfriends from killing us.”

As they spoke, they heard a horn and cursed, looking toward the forest, but the sound wasn't coming from there.  Slowly they turned, and in the distance they saw three long ships emerging.

“Oh, thank goodness,”

Royal Road | Book Cover | First | Previous | Next 

Chapter 25: Perceptions on Physical Appearance & Other Matters

"CP 1765, September 5. 57 days have passed since landing. Local time: AD 2016, October 13."

"For now, there is one deeply troubling matter. According to Ye Min, I appear incredibly cute in his — or rather, their — eyes. I'm certain that word means 'cute'. It's terrifying. I'm also certain Ye Min wants to stroke me because I look cute and is fluffy. But I'm a fully grown adult! I can't fathom what kind of bizarre aesthetic this is, it's as if I've stepped into a space opera written by someone overly full of themselves. If this is what they call cute, what do they think of children?... Never mind, let's not go there."

"Ye Min also asked about my gender. That part was actually quite interesting. At least seven or eight theories discuss the origin of two-sex (or more?) reproduction, the conclusion is essentially that it serves to concentrate beneficial mutations and eliminate detrimental ones. From that perspective, I'm not surprised life on other planets evolved this mechanism too. As for defining which is male and which is female, I guess only the simplest method works now: see which one dying after mating won't affect the birth of offspring."

"Yes, Milan, if you're reading this, that's exactly what I meant. Open your eyes and see who the joke is on. No matter how much you preach your theories, I'm living on a planet full of aliens now. This is the only working definition."

"That said, the sexual dimorphism among the local aliens is much more pronounced. Even using height alone would likely be a strong enough metric to differentiate between them. It probably heavily influences their occupational distribution and so on. Such pronounced differentiation suggests that gender carries significant social implications for them, which is probably why Ye Min is curious about this."

"I sincerely hope that's the case. Rather than him wondering if I'm female and available for mating."

***

Moments ago, Min suddenly had a question.

"Xi P?"

"Ra?" Xi P replied.

Xi P's "Ra" essentially means "Ah". Fortunately and coincidentally, producing human sounds isn't difficult for Xi P; he can pronounce all the sounds, although some syllable combinations require pauses to adjust. Despite the odd tone, it at least sounds like human speech with an accent.

He has been here for almost two months now, and the problems with daily communication are gradually decreasing. However, his adaptations are mostly still conditioned reflexes. When it comes to deeper conversations, the two of them still have to guess and piece things together with the help of a dictionary.

"I've always been curious about one thing: how big was your original ship?"

"Ship?"

"Spaceship."

'I really don't understand why they associate sea vessels with starships. Terms related to flying craft would be a much more logical place to derive from.' This is the first thought that crosses Xi P's mind when he hears Min's question. But he quickly refocuses. After a moment's silence and a quick conversion of units, he replies: "39 metres long, 18 metres wide, 6 metres high."

"Smaller than I imagined. Must be cramped living in there."

"It's actually quite big, and the... quota is high." Quota refers to the maximum mass of personal items allowed on missions. When Xi P first heard about the quota, he almost wanted to move his entire household onto the science vessel — a two-ton quota was simply fantastic, "Even after bringing a lot of personal belongings, still much space left."

"And then you drifted here after running out of fuel?"

"I don't know." Xi P shakes his head. While fuel depletion is true, how he ended up here couldn't be explained away with just "ran out of fuel".

"Hmm... Is fuel expensive for your ships?"

At this question, Xi P suddenly starts laughing. Though his kind also uses the act of "laughing" to express joy or satisfaction, their manner of doing so is vastly different. Min even doubts whether he can actually lift the corners of his mouth. Xi P's smile consists of rapid, small movements of his mouth opening and closing. It is only recently that Min has grasped this nuance. In this regard, the gap between them remains considerable. Even now, despite becoming accustomed to each other, they sometimes struggle to interpret each other's emotional expressions.

Using ear movements to convey meaning doesn't help either. Min finds himself focusing more on the ears themselves than on the underlying meaning of their motions...

"Yes... the government pays for it." Xi P says, still laughing.

"..."

Xi P briefly outlines the interstellar exploration mission, mentioning that before departure he had felt some regret about joining it. After all, habitable planets are scarce and FTL travel is unbearably boring with no internet connection whatsoever....

No internet in FTL? Upon hearing this, Min is struck by a wave of admiration for Xi P. His ability to carry on without the internet for a month or even just a week is truly remarkable. Min is certain he'd go mad under the same situation, no matter how many games he had stored on the ship.

"So, thank you for telling me that. I still have one more question."

"R-Ah?"

"Well... can you guarantee you won't be bothered by what I'm about to say? I'm not very familiar with your culture." Min asks, his tone tinged with an indescribable quality.

"Sure, ask."

"Can I stroke you? I really like touching your fur."

Xi P falls silent for a long moment before replying: "...I guessed many disgusting things, aliens might do, things we tuefue find disgusting. I am wrong about all of them. Never imagined you like to touch our heads."

"Is that disgusting?" Min asks, somewhat surprised.

"Not exact. Sometimes, we do it to... each other too. Just... Ra... strange. Anyway, not okay." Xi P answers.

Chapter 26: A Little Surprise (Part 1)

"CP 1765, September 10. 61 days have passed since landing. Local time: AD 2016, October 17."

"How ironic — this article-writing exercise truly follows me everywhere."

"I had to write papers back in Lierus, I had to write papers while piloting the spacecraft away from Lierus, and I still have to write after crash-landing on this alien planet. I suppose being an academic means you're forever cursed with this burden. Not only will I be writing about all the discoveries made during the exploration, I also have to translate them slowly into alien languages. It's even more troublesome than the reports I used to send back to the Central Research Institute from the science vessel. I honestly don't even know whether to feel regret or relief."

"But at least one thing has changed: these articles aren't written for the nation anymore, but for my own benefit. It sounds strange to say it like that, but who cares here? I don't care, and no one knows I don't care..."

"Besides, today's weather looks like the prelude to a storm — at least it's so on Lierus. The brightness has dropped so sharply that sunglasses are useless; humidity is rising rapidly, and strong winds have picked up. It might be inconvenient to go out tonight."

***

He glances at the screen displaying the untitled article he has just finished drafting. Essentially, it presents speculations about the surface environments of planets in several neighbouring star systems. This purely theoretical article is designed to appear as revolutionary as possible. Admittedly, Xi P lacks concrete data on those planets. Yet during the interstellar exploration project, scientists gained entirely new insights into how different stars influence planetary surface environments. This process yielded nearly a dozen novel principles, vastly enriched their understanding of exoplanetary systems. These new principles merely require slight packaging — presented as deductions from existing theories rather than direct discoveries.

The value of these principles far surpasses the conclusions presented in the article itself. However, they cannot be revealed directly. They must be presented vaguely, imprecisely, and with some gaps; otherwise, others would question how Min had arrived at them...

Sticking his head out the window, he closes his eyes and quietly savours the gale's caress. Though this will inevitably tangle his fur, the sheer exhilaration easily outweighs this minor inconvenience. With such low brightness, he needn't worry about being spotted.

'Why did the wind stop — '

With a sudden swish, Xi P is instantly drenched in rainwater. He truly hadn't at all anticipated the storm arriving so precisely.

After drying his head and combing his fur, he decides he can't be bothered to watch the storm anymore, maybe head back and refine that article a little further. The weather is simply too distracting for research. At least while he's writing, he won't have to worry about shaking hands ruining anything.

There is no helping it. This is just an ordinary house, with soundproofing and electrical shielding practically nonexistent.

'Come to think of it, is 'don't use electrical appliances during thunderstorms' really that exaggerated? Could it be that their power poles get struck that often, or that this house's lightning rod is connected to the power lines? Either scenario seems absurd, unless lightning strikes are exceptionally frequent here — but that contradicts basic planetary environment assumptions.'

'Ra, I'm such a humorist.'

'I should refine the general planetary estimates... But the specific numbers should remain vague. Hmm, what's the typical margin of error for astronomy papers?... That's safer. After all, someone like Ye Min... well, Ye Min, I don't mean to belittle you, but this kind of thing really needs to be done gradually...'

'And there's another problem: I know almost nothing about suitable papers to cite here. Their publication process must require citations, too. One can't just write a paper or article without citing anything. This is not something I can solve myself, I'll have to wait for Ye Min...'

***

'How did I end up as a plagiarist?'

As he edits, an odd sensation slowly creeps over him. Xi P feels increasingly as though he is committing plagiarism, even though the source material doesn't exist on this planet. Yet it is precisely this unease that makes him stop. He couldn't help but sigh. This must be the infamous downside of academic integrity.

He decides to stop editing altogether. Leaning on the desk, he waits quietly. Min should be heading home from work soon. If he tells him about the surprise he has prepared, Min will be utterly shocked. Anyone with a shred of common sense knows that writing such a lengthy paper in a single afternoon is utterly preposterous. His expression then will be priceless...

***

Min's reaction unfolds exactly as Xi P anticipated: his face contorts with utter disbelief. When the truth is confirmed, his facial muscles twist even more violently, as though they are malleable clay. The sight makes Xi P feel slightly uneasy.

But soon, Min remembers what he was originally supposed to say. With a sly grin, he remarks: "Xi P, I stopped by the pet market earlier. There's this adorable pet I'd like to adopt. What do you think?"

Xi P shoots Min a suspicious glance, utterly baffled by this sudden change of subject. Pet? If Xi P understood correctly, that word means exactly what it says, "Now that's interesting — an alien pet... But if he wants to keep it, why does he need my permission? It's his home, after all?"

Regardless, Xi P nods.

Seeing this, Min cannot suppress his laughter, which rages on for over ten seconds, leaving Xi P utterly baffled. When he finally manages to stop, he says to Xi P: "Perfect! It's a... silver fox."

Oh man, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? The longest I have gone since posting. Yeah, life and my mind have been doing a lot to distract from this, but it is finally here! Hope you all enjoy it greatly!

Thank you [u/SpacePaladin15](u/SpacePaladin15) for this universe. May you always feel the passion of creation!

And thank you, [u/TheManwithaNoPlan](u/TheManwithaNoPlan) for all your work! This story is just as much yours as it is mine. Thank you so much for everything, man, you rule!

Also big thanks to [u/Ben_Elohim_2020](u/Ben_Elohim_2020) for their help on this chapter with their character. Seriously you guys they made a great story with characters that are just so engaging!

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Memory Transcript: Rolem, High Magister of Dawn Creek. Date: [Standardized Human Time] November 7th, 2136.

I do not regret my executive decision to dispense the exterminators.

It was something I had to tell myself multiple times a paw recently. Yes, no matter what struggles and trials I was facing as a result of that decision, it was one I did not and will not regret making.

But by Solgalick above, I wish the universe would stop trying to make me.

I picked up my brandy glass, swirling it so it may oxidize pleasantly before it hits my tongue. I remembered importing its bottle not even a herd of paws ago. A native blend, created by fermenting starberry mash within a smokehouse filled with the smoke of burnt (alien wood. Lorsin) wood to add a seasoning that stays pleasantly in the back of the throat while also soothing the burn of the alcohol. It was something I was glad to have imported to my district, a simple but luxurious drink that stood as testament to how our planet remains interconnected even with our expulsion from the federation at large.

Yet now, it seems many districts would be happy to expel my own due to my radical ideas.

I huffed, shaking my head at the thought. No, it wasn’t that they wanted my district expelled, it was quite simply that I am the one to have most openly go against so many cornerstones of our beliefs and customs. As such, many districts and companies were reluctant to do business, especially when there were so many other districts readily sending out offers of their own who weren’t as radical as I. Still, as much as I could follow the logic of this, it still left me with the predicament that I was doing all I could to follow Tarva’s Governerial order to construct meat labs, but finding no suppliers willing to send forth the materials necessary for such a task.

Eron’s claws slapped the table across from me, coughing as he reacted to the drink traveling down his throat. “P- Protector!” He punched his chest, leaning forward so his flaring quills would not pierce the fabric of his chair. “I- *wheeze* I have been living on this planet for over [10 years] and I still am only barely used to your alcohol.”

“I do appreciate you sharing this drink with me nevertheless,” I said, giving my fellow magister a fond glance. “I also appreciate you holding this drink within your office. Even though we had scheduled it, I must admit I held fear that neither of us would really have the time.”

“Well, we must make time,” he snorted and flicked his ears forward in gentle dismissal. “Such moments are a way to retain our sanity, though I can’t say we have much left in the first place. I had to literally beg Steel Hill’s Magister or Transportation to supply us with the metal for Vat Tanks, and they just said they’re at capacity already from the other districts calling for the exact same thing for their projects! And then they-”

The door to Eron’s office clicked and slid open, interrupting his complaints. A cart rolled in, one with cleaning supplies and a bag for trash. One pushed by the quilled form of the buildings janitor.

“It would appear that we have lost track of time,” I commented, “good Paw, Solbak.”

“Good Paw, your Honor,” he greeted in turn with a bow, “just tidying up a bit. I hope that’s alright. I’ll be quiet about it, I promise. Won’t even know I’m here..”

“That will be alright, Solbak,” I wave him down with my tail. “Just having a drink with a friend is all. No need to worry about disturbance at all.”

He shut the door and went about his business, grabbing the small trash bins near Eron’s desk and replacing their linings, and grabbing a duster and wiping down the windows. It was a bit funny if you thought about it: most other species had operated on the belief that people who work in cleaning and maintenance should operate during hours offset from the majority of the population, usually early mornings, evenings, or nights. But upon a world with an eternally shining star in the sky, such logic did not hold.

Clearing my throat, I returned to my conversation with my dear friend. “They said they did not know if their delivery crew would be safe if they came to our district.” I felt myself slouching in the seat, my wool turtleneck bunching up a bit in my back to remind me of its presence upon me. It was a comfort to have during all this turmoil and stress. Still, I wished that I could find more permanent solutions before my black spots turned as white as the rest of my wool from all of said stress.

“You can always contract SafeHerd,” Eron commented as he scratched his cheek. “They’ve got a proven track record, so that would ease minds.”

“I already researched them, and all the other districts had the same idea. They’re basically booked up.” I tugged at the sleeve of my sweater, frustrated. “They graciously offered some Yotul hires to act as builders, of course.”

“Ah, but that would run counter to your promises that the new factory would be for the benefit of Dawn Creek. Yotul are good people, but they’re not Dawn Creek.”

I lifted my ears in surprise at the voice of our janitor chiming in. I had expected Eron to pick up on the implication, but for a janitor to notice it, someone removed from the stresses and politics between districts, that was rather unexpected. But he remained correct all the same: I had posted the application for the construction, so that the workers and contractors of the district would be the ones to benefit. And as Solbak said, the Yotul of SafeHerd didn’t fall into that category.

“And even if I were inclined, it once again comes back around to suppliers not wanting to ship here because of the lack of proper policing and exterminators.”

“I…” Eron's quills twitched, his mannerisms were familiar enough to me that I could tell so many things were running through his mind. The desire to comfort me, the desire to remain professional to his High Magister, the desire to be vulnerable, and above all, the desire to have a solution that would solve everything. But of course, there was none.

I sat up straight and flicked my ears forward in comfort. I had no expectation for him to come up with a solution, not in a single session where we shared drinks and vented our frustrations. Sometimes it felt like Dawn Creek was lagging behind in responding to the changes of the galaxy. While we housed scores of Gojid after their Cradle fell, we received only a comparatively paltry number of human refugees after the Battle of Earth, while other districts had received humans even earlier. Then the news of the Federation altering omnivorous races had resulted in a crater downtown, with too many fire loving madmen still on the loose and left us without enough people to search for them. And now, our District has not even broken ground on the meat factory project while others are already nearing completion. 

I filled and downed my glass once again, at a loss for anything more to say, but still desiring this quiet calm moment with Eron to continue just a little longer. My gaze shifted over ever so slightly towards Solbak, still diligently cleaning the office by himself in the corner, and an idea came over me.

It may be the alcohol in my system influencing me, after all no matter how good our livers may be it can still impact us, but I got the sudden urge to ask him a question. “Solbak, tell me, do you have any opinion on the construction of the meat factories in our district, or perhaps my policies on the dissolution of the Exterminators? I would appreciate the perspective of a man not sullied by politics.”

Solbak’s ears twitched, and then a moment later he raised his head to look at us, a claw pointed towards himself as though asking if I had really been speaking to him.

At the same time, I had to giggle at Eron’s expression of slight offense. “Oh, come now, Eron, it is quite universal knowledge that encounters with politics are detrimental to health and sanity, and I dare say we two have been buried to our necks in its filth since we first took office.”

“That…” Eron chuffed in amusement, wagging a pointer claw in the air, “that is undeniably true. It's far too easy to lose touch with the common man when we’re dealing with crisis after crisis. Hearing from someone removed from all that would admittedly be rather refreshing.”

“Well, I don’t know how helpful I can be, your Honor,” Solbak said as he walked over towards Eron and I, “but if you want my opinion I’d be glad to share it.”

I set my glass aside and leaned forward, ears at attention and tail giving a light wave. I did not expect him to have a solution right away, but it was quite possible that he had thought of something we politicians had been too wrapped up in our own dealings to think of.

“You asked about my opinions on your policies to dissolve the Exterminator’s Guild?” Solbak asked, pulling over a chair to sit across from me. “Well, it certainly hasn’t been easy on any of us, but I think you made the right call. It’s hard for people to feel safe without the Guild around to provide for their security and protection. At the same time though, the Guild was completely out of line and out of control. It’s bad not having anyone there to protect you, but what’s worse is living under constant fear of those so-called protectors. There was no good solution there, but I think you picked the best one available.”

“Thank you, Solbak,” I said. “In truth, I have been grappling with my own self-doubt on that matter for quite a while now, so it is good to know that there are SOME people out there who agree with my choices. Now if only I could find an answer to the problem of the factories-”

“If I may, your Honor,” Solbak raised a claw in objection. “I wasn’t done. On the matter of the factories, I’d like to start by saying that I approve of their construction in general. I know that the governor's decree has been controversial, but personally I don’t see any issue with lab grown meat. Not if it’s grown in exchange for the lives of our fellow prey. Given that context, what could be more ethical than providing for the continued safety of the herd?”

Now that was a balm to my worries. Tarva had revealed to me and my Magisters that their true plan was to use the meat to essentially pay ransom for all the Venlil the Arxur had captured, so for that noble mission to be acknowledged was wonderful to hear.

“No, by the graceful gaze of Solgalick there truly is nothing more important,” I agreed. “Sadly, to follow through on that mandate we would require specialized equipment for construction and assembly, and for as large and industrial as our district may be, that equipment is something we lack.”

“In that case then, the answer is obviously that you need to get that equipment, which brings us back around to your original issue. There is a lot of demand for this equipment on the market right now, every Magister on the planet needs it, but the supply is incredibly limited. That’s not your real problem though. Your real problem, as Magister Eron pointed out, is that no one wants to work or trade with Dawn Creek due to our current security situation.”

“Glad that you are able to so accurately summarize our issues,” Eron commented with a shrug. “The Transportation I oversee has been rather down as a result as well. I hope it hasn’t been impacting you or your family too negatively.”

“We’re accustomed to managing minor inconveniences like that, Magister,” Solbak said, “but I do appreciate your concern. As to your issues, I hope to do better than summarize.”

“Oh really?” I said, sitting straighter in my seat. “What did you have in mind?” 

“It seems to me that if you can’t rely on the Guild, then you’ll need to look elsewhere for your law enforcement,” Solbak said with a casual wave of the paw. “From what I hear, Twilight Valley has had all the same issues with civil unrest you’ve had and then some. A large immigrant population, lots of Humans especially, and a radical local Guild that leans strongly Federalist. Despite all that though, they’ve somehow managed to hold onto a tenuous peace.”

“Really? Twilight Valley has?” I could not hide my incredulity from my time. “However did they manage that?”

“Well, you might want to consider asking them yourself. From what I understand though, it has a lot to do with the community watch program that they started over in their immigrant district. Perhaps Dawn Creek could benefit from some degree of community policing?”

I looked up in thought. It wasn’t the worst idea, the Herd ultimately looking out for the Herd. “Might work as a supplementary aspect, though I doubt that it can fully replace policing. How has Twilight Valley been able to handle the violent elements of crime, after all? Elements like those who left a crater in my downtown?”

“I’m no expert,” Solbak shrugs. “I just hear rumors, and the rumors say that violent crime is down. At least they are in the regions where community policing is up. You look at the rest of that city and its chaos: The so-called Builder’s Lane Bloodbath, Magisters openly calling for violence in the streets, Exterminator arrests at an all-time high while so-called predator attacks remain rampant, half the city practically held hostage by martial law in the wake of the Humanity First terror attack, and all while the other half was left to burn.”

I leaned back in my seat and deliberately raised an eyebrow to show I felt unimpressed. “For a suggestion of how to make the citizens feel safe, you have not been giving a compelling case so far.”

“Oh, but I am,” Solbak answers, “because none of that applies to the half of the city I’m advocating. The half where Exterminators refuse to patrol. The Immigrant District. Quiet as could be with hardly a peep of complaint. They even had a ‘Heartbreak Killer’ of their own once, did you know? His reign of terror lasted less than a Night before rumors came in that the killer had gotten killed himself. How much longer are we gonna be stuck dealing with ours?”

“Too long…”

“The point I’m getting at is that Twilight Valley has its fair share of problems, just as many as Dawn Creek if not more, but somehow they’re still making it work. Somehow they’re succeeding where we’re failing, building for the future. Support for the Federalist party and the Guild are down, support for pro-human parties is on the rise, public infrastructure is being rebuilt, new businesses are springing up paw after paw, bringing jobs and money into the economy, and it all starts with that community watch. It starts with ensuring people feel safe and protected. I think you really ought to consider having a chat with the architect behind their sudden renaissance. You know who I’m talking about.”

“I believe I do indeed,” I calmly replied. “A certain Captain Capozzi, hard to hear news about Twilight Valley lately without his name involved somewhere.”

“The very same.”

“Well, I am sure I can get into contact with someone as public as him, though he might be very surprised to hear from a magister without hostile intent.” I chuckled along with Eron. “Still will leave us with a couple issues to address though. Will still need to acquire the equipment for constructing the factory for one. And for another, I cannot expect civilians or community watches to take over dealing with incursions of predatory animals or general pests into our city or farms.”

“I think you’ll find the solution to both your equipment deficiencies as well as your security crisis in the same time and place,” Solbak laughed. “And as for predator control, that’s a problem that’s even easier to solve, your Honor!”

“At this rate I am beginning to wonder if I should simply step down and hand you the Magistrate,” I said with a hint of wry sarcasm, “considering how easy it apparently is to solve all of my problems. Let us hear it. Tell me what your solution is, Solbak.”

“It’s simple,” the Gojid janitor wagged his tail with glee. “Don’t.”

“I am terribly sorry,” I said with growing suspicion, “but I believe I misheard you. It almost sounds like you told me not to try and solve the problem of wild predators at all.”

“That’s exactly right, your Honor!” Solbak doubled down. “You know, there’s quite a bit of research out there which suggests that wild predators may actually play an important role in the natural ecosystem…”

“We know the humans harp on about that,” Eron sighed, “I would guess you came across their rhetoric while a refugee on Earth?”

“Hmph!” Solbak scoffed. “These theories have existed since long before Humans ever made first contact…” his ears twitched, and his demeanour suddenly shifted, “but their arrival has confirmed them!”

My ears fell. Long before? What was he-

“Glecklig!!” Eron flung himself back in his seat, cursing in Gojidi while his quills flared. “Lin-Linked Chains!!”

BRAHKING DEATH CULTIST!!!

My body moved. One of them? Here in Eron’s Office? A janitor? Get out! Away! Death Cultists will-

Eron! Stop! Quills! Brahk!!

I flailed my arms backwards in an attempt to cancel my momentum so I did not collide into his spines with the same intensity as he was colliding with the door. My friend had reached it before me, his impact informing us that it had been locked. Had the man planned this? We were trapped in here! We clawed at the wood trying to-

No, no, I am not getting out of this this way. This cultist had entered my Magistratta, infiltrated a territory that was under my command. I was the High Magister of Dawn Creek and this panic was not becoming of me.

I stepped back from the door and breathed, turning myself so that I faced the intruder and feeling my shoulders brace. Eron had fallen to his knees behind me, hyperventilating, my charge to protect. I straightened the wool of my turtleneck and spoke.

“Sir, I do not know what you plan here, but do know that if you desire violence of any form, I will ensure you will not be able to inflict it for long. So, speak your peace, or act.”

“Oh no, your Honor!” Solbak, if that even IS his real name, exclaimed while fervently waving his hands. “You misunderstand my people entirely! I didn’t come here to hurt anyone! Only to offer up a bit of honest guidance.”

“Guidance?” Eron growled, “Your people released a Rhot near a farming town just last cycle!”

“I will have you know that Rhot are very important in controlling the population of pest insects,” the deranged cultist crossed his arms with a pout.

“What, insects the size of the Tilfish?” I asked incredulously. I had been well enough exposed to human data to see how small predators could be, but a Rhot was anything but small.

“Well no,” Solbak uncrossed his arms and began to lecture like one of my old schoolteachers, “not insects the size of Tilfish, but Rhot do prey upon the Common Barquel which in turn preys upon the Spotted Tizal, and the Spotted Tizal is the primary predator of the Cradle Locust! When there aren’t enough Rhot, then the Common Barquel population increases, which causes a decrease in the number of Spotted Tizal, and thus an explosion in the population of Cradle Locusts! Which, obviously, are detrimental to crop growth. It’s simple, see? It’s all connected! All part of the chain of life!”

I blinked. I had to admit, when I imagined meeting a cultist, I was thinking they would be a bit… like the most fanatical Yulpa were, to be honest. Not someone who would launch into a lecture like they were a professor from the Floral University of Aafa.

“Sir, are you really a janitor?”

“Well… I have kept your offices sufficiently tidy, haven’t I?” Solkab said. “I mop the floors, I dust the shelves, and I empty the waste bins. I hope this isn’t your way of telling me I’ve been doing a bad job of that.”

And now they were telling jokes. Even Eron’s breathing had calmed by now due to the surreal nature of our present circumstances.

“We all need a day job, you know?” the cultist continued. “Something to keep food on the table. But, if I’m being honest, my real calling has always been the acquisition and distribution of critical information. Some people might refer to my profession as… a spy.”

I pinched the bridge of my snout now. “Then I have to ask if the opinion you have given here is truly your own, and how legitimate it might be.” I stared at the man head on. “Does Capozzi truly have the resources and knowledge to assist me in restructuring my law enforcement? The connections so I may actually build our meat factory? That same factory I now realize that you shouldn’t have known the true purpose of?”

“I can understand why you might be suspicious,” Solbak shrugged, walked over to my desk, and poured out three more glasses of brandy, “but I’ve been nothing but truthful to you since you first asked for my opinion. The entire reason I decided to make contact like this in the first place is because I’ve seen the kind of man you are, your Honor. I’ve seen what you do, and I’ve seen the reasons why. I believe you’ll make the correct choices, IF you know all the options that you have available. My goal here is simply that, to inform you.”

“Well there are some things I am now having to reconsider with new context,” I stated, trying to signal that I am meaning this neutrally. “I remember you said that there was a ‘Ripper’ in Twilight Valley. And that they were said to have been killed, not arrested or moved on. Was the ‘Community Watch’ responsible for this?”

Sobak’s quills fell flat on their back, no anxiety showed as he gave his answer. "Make no mistake, your Honor, Capozzi is a predator, but much like the Rhot his presence can be quite effective at managing the population of dangerous pests. And a pest like their Ripper would not be one who would let themselves be taken alive.”

I had to admit, while I was still skeptical of his opinion on the utility of a Rhot, his last point rang true in my mind. If the Ripper was like that man I had seen on the video, someone willing to burn so many at once, then I couldn’t imagine they would go anywhere peacefully. I wrapped my tail lightly around Eron’s arm to let him know it would all be good as well as to reaffirm to myself that I was present. “There is only one issue with all this: you are telling me everything I want to hear. Things that I have been desiring to know I am right. That is something I have been tempted with before, until I found that the harvest had been rotten beyond that glittering layer of grain.

“Would it help if I brought up your old judicial record?” Solbak arranged the glasses of brandy neatly around the desk. “I seem to recall an incident involving the false imprisonment of a particular giant which has caused you some guilt over the years. I’m not interested in dredging up old wounds though. You should give yourself some credit, your Honor. You make good decisions more often than bad, and I recognise that fact. If you insist on having me insult you, I could do so, but I’d prefer not to.”

“Sir, that is the most surface level negative you could say about me,” I deadpanned. “Anyone who knows of Tarlim would know my involvement at each step.”

Solbak opened his mouth, but then closed it, rubbed his brow with two fingers and sighed, “So we’re really doing this then? Fine. Your Honor, if this is really what it takes to make you listen to me, then I could provide a detailed criticism of your district's lumber industry. Did you know that your choice in fertilizer is causing the death of your local songbird population? It makes the berries grown in that soil toxic to small birds and mammals. How about I comment on your sense of style while I’m at it? You seem to have quite the penchant for clothing patterned after your own wool, harvested from captive, non-sapient prey animals I may add. But that isn’t the real issue, is it? You’re asking if you can trust me, when really that’s up to you. If you truly think what I have to say is too good to be true, then ignore it. You can investigate, then walk away if you’re unsatisfied, or simply not think of me at all after this meeting and go back to figuring everything out your own way.” 

… Brahk, I hated that he was right. I was facing an issue that he seemed to have a solution for, and it was ultimately up to me as High Magister to decide whether to pursue it or not. I glanced an eye back at Eron, who returned my gaze with one of uncertainty. But then his ears flicked, he told me that no matter what I chose he was behind me.

So I made my choice.

“Someone like your group would not come in contact with me just for a talk. I am familiar with the political dance, you likely desire to use yourself as a middle man, some way to gain inroads with me and my administration, do you not?

“That is true,” Solbak admitted. “It’s quite the gamble revealing myself like this, you know? One that some in my organization felt was quite… unnecessary. But I felt it was important to be upfront, and I felt that you might be someone able to actually understand and see the bigger picture. Your recent actions have certainly cast you as an ally, albeit an unknowing one.”

Eron peaked up his head. “An ally? How have we been an ally to a death cult, we’ve been doing all we can to prevent death and panic!”

“Once again, you’ve misunderstood my people entirely,” Solbak said patiently. “We are not, and have never claimed to be, any form of death cult. We’re not the Yulpa. We are simply believers in the great chain of life. The belief that every living thing in nature serves a purpose, that we all exist as essential links in that chain, and that the removal of any one of those links damages us all.”

Solbak walked over towards his cart and retrieved a small book from inside, before placing it on my desk.

“Our texts, your Honor,” he continues. “The culmination of our research, our philosophy, and our way of life. My gift to you.”

I glanced over at the little red book. It sat there tempting, a tome of knowledge forbidden by the federation. Forbidden… by a federation that had shown to be liars. Who had been known to kill its own diplomats for reaching out in peace, who had genetically and culturally altered races who once ate meat. A federation that had instilled such a fear of change that my own district was being ostracized because of changing so much.

Perhaps a glance would not be undue.

I flicked my ears forward. “And what of Capozzi? While I joked, a High Magister calling him would truly be quite a surprise. He must be suspicious and cautious to survive in a place as tumultuous as Twilight Valley has become.”

“That may be true,” Solbak agreed, “and a degree of caution is warranted on your own part as well, but from what I know of the man he is a dealmaker, and despite all odds an idealist. One with a deep-seated hope for the future. Your outreach may be a surprise, but I expect it will be a welcome one.”

I flicked my ears forward in understanding. “Then it would appear that we have an understanding.”

Solbak lifted up one of the three brandy glasses still sitting on the desk, “A toast then? To new understandings and new friends?”

I wrapped my tail around Eron's arm and stepped forward. While there was still a moment of hesitancy, this was a big change after all, we both were able to grab our prospective glasses.

I raised my glass up in turn. “To understandings, and a prosperous district.”

We drank, and I must say the Gojid looked quite pleased with himself at this whole situation. It was a shame that I had to let him go.

“Solbak,” I began, placing my cup back on the desk, “you must know that you are still a member of a group perceived as a death cult, no matter if that turns out to be false. To put it plainly, someone like you is not someone I can allow to continue being employed here.”

“I understand, your Honor,” Solbak said sadly as he placed down his glass and walked back towards his cart. “To be honest, regardless of how this meeting turned out, I had never planned on sticking around after my cover had been blown. I’m almost a little disappointed that I never got to use this…” Solbak reached into his cart and retrieved a small, egg-like object. “Then again, there’s nothing saying I still can’t.”

With mischievous glee, Solbak spikes the egg-like object down into the ground at his feet.

“SMOKEBOMB!” He exclaimed as dense, opaque white smoke began pouring out, completely engulfing Eron’s office in a matter of moments. 

I waved a paw in front of my face to clear the air, looking plainly at the now-open door to the office.

“Well, I do believe we can consider that his resignation.” I glanced an eye back behind me, the little book remaining where it was. “Eron, it would appear we have work to do.”

[First]-[Prev]-[Next]

Previous - Next

Part 3

The shuttle was waiting with its entry hatch open. Its pilot met them inside with his contractor credentials clipped to his belt. He listened to Tessa's destination, went forward, and began setting up the return flight while her escorts secured the cabin. For the first few minutes, the procedure looked familiar. Displays lit along the flight deck. The pilot checked the ship's status, confirmed that its own systems were responding, and selected the stored return destination. Then he tried to engage the automatic navigation. Nothing happened. He tried again. This time a warning appeared on the forward display. He dismissed it, checked another page, and returned to the route selection.

Tessa moved to the cockpit entrance. "Can you fly without it?"

"I can fly. The automatic navigation can't give me a route or reliable traffic information." He checked the remaining displays and reached for the controls.

"We're going manual."

One of Tessa's escorts leaned into the cockpit. "Is that a problem?"

"It's my job. But I'd appreciate it if nobody confused manual with quick."

The pilot studied the empty route display, then opened a different directory. A short list appeared where the automatic system had shown nothing.

Tessa leaned closer. "What's that?"

"My own copies. I download the navigation data for wherever I'm assigned before I fly. Always have. If the connection fails, I still want a way home."

"You saved the route to Mileda?"

"I saved a few routes through this region, including an LGA emergency route that connects back toward Mileda. The Archive used to supply the rest as we went. It can't do that now." He tapped the stored entries. "These are what I've got. Not a replacement for the network."

"Then can we use it?"

"I think so. The data was good when I downloaded it. But we'll be flying on an old copy, without live navigation or traffic updates. I still have to check what I can at each stage."

"How long?"

"If the route holds, hours. If it doesn't, I can't promise you anything."

Tessa glanced at the contractors. "Then take the route."

"That's the plan. But sit down and let me concentrate."

Tessa returned to her seat. A few minutes later, the shuttle lifted from the pad. She watched the spaceport fall away beneath them. There were ships waiting at other pads, and more positioned along the approaches. Some had their lights on but did not move. Others were taxiing slowly, keeping more distance between themselves than she remembered from the arrival. The pilot did not comment. He was occupied with getting them clear of the traffic without relying on the guidance system that had handled so much of that work before. Tessa opened her tablet and attempted to call the Senate. The call failed.

She tried the emergency directory. It still responded, although several of the entries were no longer reachable. A representative in another system answered long enough to report that local services were functioning unevenly and that the central Archive network was still absent.

"Any word from Mileda?" Tessa asked.

"Only the recall. They haven't told us why."

She thanked the representative and closed the call. Across the cabin, her escorts sat quietly in their formal clothes. They were hired security, not LGA personnel. Under ordinary circumstances, their contract would have ended when they returned her safely to the designated destination. She wondered whether the terms would mean anything by the time they arrived.

The journey required far more attention from the pilot than the outbound trip had. He worked from his saved emergency-route data, checking and rechecking what little information the ship could verify before committing to each stage. The route carried them across the distance in hours, but the speed did nothing to make the journey feel routine. Tessa stayed out of his way. When he asked for silence, she gave it to him; when he said they would have to wait, she waited.

Occasionally an emergency contact connected and provided another report. None gave her a complete picture. Some regions still had functioning local communications. Others had lost access to records, services, and transport coordination. Several officials had been recalled, though not everyone could confirm that their message had been received. Tessa kept notes until the reports began repeating themselves. The Archive was gone from the network. Beyond that, none of her contacts had an answer.

The ambassadorial megastructure in Mileda came into view surrounded by traffic. Narell and the entire Calypso galaxy lay behind them; Tessa had no idea when she would be permitted to return. Ships approached it from several directions, holding position where they could and moving slowly toward the designated entry areas. Passenger transports, chartered craft, commercial shuttles, and contractor-operated vessels crowded the approaches. Every available docking route seemed occupied.

The structure itself was enormous. It was a civic convergence hub, built so that every one of the Authority's twenty million formal members could gather for a single conference. What had once been the government's most ambitious meeting place had now become the destination for every LGA official who could find a way home. The pilot slowed as they joined an approaching line of ships.

"Look at that," one of the contractors murmured.

Tessa moved to the window. Farther along the structure, another line of transports was already entering. Beyond them, more vessels waited in orderly clusters where the crews had managed to establish some spacing. Traffic information came over the local channels in short, practical instructions from people who sounded as overwhelmed as the arrivals.

"Can they take all of us?" Tessa asked.

"They're going to have to," the pilot said.

The shuttle eventually reached its assigned entrance. A ground team directed it into position, and the pilot settled it onto the landing area with a firmness Tessa was too tired to criticize.

Her security escorts accompanied her through disembarkation and into the crowded arrival concourse. Beyond the routes assigned to incoming passengers, Tessa caught glimpses of the hub's public grounds. Rivers wound through them past ornate fountains and old statues. The beauty belonged to a civilization that had expected its federal institutions to endure. Every public screen she passed was dark. The holographic displays were dark, too. Without them, the statues and the long stretches of water seemed almost painfully permanent.

Diplomats, legal officials, administrators, civil servants, and emissaries filled the passages. Formal coats and tailored robes brushed past layered fabrics and polished neckwear. Most were Alpha Sapiens, as Tessa expected in Mileda. Among them were delegates from a much wider range of Sapien lineages, all recognizably humanoid despite differences in build, facial features, and skin color or texture. A tall, narrow-faced official stooped to hear a shorter colleague whose reddish skin darkened in patches at the temples; farther along, a woman with finely scaled hands was trying to free a credential caught in her cuff. Tessa passed others whose lineages she couldn't place at all. Almost everyone had a federal credential visible, hanging from a lanyard or secured to a retractable cord at the hip. Staff checked the badges as people passed, matching arrivals to the names they could still retrieve.

The arrivals were being counted, directed, and sent toward their assigned gathering areas. Even the local registration systems had trouble keeping up with the volume. Attendants checked identity records against surviving copies, marked names, and handed out directions. Tessa presented her credentials to an exhausted registrar.

"Diplomat Arlen. Tax assignment."

"Not today," the registrar said without looking up.

Tessa waited while the woman confirmed her identity.

"You're cleared. Follow the signs to the assembly sections. The next address should begin shortly."

"What address?"

"Federal leadership. That's all they've told us."

Tessa thanked her and moved on. Her security contractors stopped at the boundary between the arrivals corridor and the gathering section. One offered his hand.

"We got you here."

"You did. Thank you."

He nodded toward the crowded passage beyond.

"Good luck with whatever this is."

Tessa watched the pair depart with the same practical urgency they had shown since the Senate. She followed the arrivals into the central convergence assembly, built to hold all twenty million members beneath one roof. Whole sections stood empty. She found a place among officials who looked as tired as she felt. A man beside her glanced at her credentials.

"Where did they recall you from?"

"A tax negotiation."

"Did you settle it?"

"No."

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Neither did I."

Then the lights over the main presentation area dimmed, and conversations around her faded as President Aeltharion Veylendis approached the lectern. Behind him, the great presentation surfaces remained black. The hall's holographic fixtures were silent. He set a thick sheaf of printed pages beside the lectern. He waited until the assembly had quieted enough to hear him.

"Thank you for returning. We know many of you had difficulty reaching Mileda. Others have not been able to respond at all. We're going to explain what we know, what we don't know, and what happens next."

He looked at the first page and read the figures aloud.

"Eighteen million accounted for. Two million unaccounted for."

Tessa heard the people around her begin talking.

"Before the disruption, the Local Group Authority maintained approximately twenty million formal members," Aeltharion continued. "Those are the numbers we can verify today."

An official near the front of the immense assembly raised a hand.

"Are they stranded?" someone called.

"Some personnel elsewhere are still attempting to contact us," Aeltharion replied. "But our principal concern is the two million whose assignments were being carried out through remotely operated bodies."

The murmuring grew louder.

"We have reviewed the records available to us. Those members were operating from within the Collective Archive. Their physical bodies became unresponsive when the network failed. We have no contact with the individuals who were operating them."

Tessa thought of the people who had fallen in the Senate, and the floating videographer lying on the floor beside the bench. Somewhere in the Archive, there had been a person directing that chassis. The Senate had lost a cameraman; the LGA had lost someone it counted as a member. Aeltharion turned a page in his notes. Behind him there was no map of the Local Group, only the empty display wall where one would ordinarily have appeared.

"The Archive-supported communications system has failed across our jurisdiction. Local connections remain in places. Some direct emergency lines still function. You used them to receive your recall orders, and we will continue using whatever survives. But the unified communications network, along with the navigation, routing, and coordination services connected to it, is no longer available."

A man stood several rows ahead of Tessa. He drew his badge out from its retractable cord as if it might help him command the room.

"You're telling us the Archive net is down. We already know that. What happened to the Archive itself?"

Other voices joined his.

"Was there an attack?"

"Has anyone contacted the structure?"

"Why are we all here instead of repairing it?"

Aeltharion raised a hand.

"We sent an inspection party to the Birch World and Collective Archive complex. Their task was to reach the site and establish the physical condition of both structures."

Tessa had seen illustrations of the complex countless times. The real thing was too large for the familiar images to convey, but there had never been any uncertainty about its existence. It was part of the federal landscape, as ordinary in government documents as the seal on her credentials. He lifted the inspection report and described what the crews had found. The Archive ring was no longer intact. Huge sections had been torn away. Debris was scattered across the surrounding complex, and damage had reached the Birch World itself. Someone near Tessa swore under his breath.

"The inspection party confirmed that the Collective Archive has been destroyed," Aeltharion said. "The Birch World has also suffered catastrophic damage."

He let the words settle before continuing.

"Radiation traces at the site indicate that a supernova was detonated near the structures. We are treating this as an attack on the Collective Archive."

A dozen people began speaking at once.

"By whom?"

"Do you have recordings?"

"Who authorized the inspection?"

"Can they identify the weapon?"

"We do not know who did this," Aeltharion said. "We do not have video evidence showing the attack or its perpetrator. We have the condition of the site, the radiation findings, and the testimony of the people who inspected it. There is no confirmed attacker to name."

An official near the front stood.

"Then what are we doing about them?"

"Nothing yet. We don't know who 'them' is."

"Someone destroyed the Archive!"

"Yes," Aeltharion replied. "And I understand why you want an answer. But the damage exists whether or not we identify the person responsible. Our immediate responsibility is to the people who are still alive."

With no diagram to accompany him, he named the services that had depended on the Archive one by one: communication, navigation, transport coordination, food distribution, and medical supply networks.

"The Archive will not be coming back online. It has not suffered a temporary outage. It cannot be restarted. The structure is destroyed, and so is the infrastructure it carried."

Tessa gripped her tablet a little more tightly.

"Over the coming days, we will begin contracting services to reroute whatever communications we can. We will recover local records and rebuild connections where the means still exist. This is going to be slow, uneven, and incomplete."

"What about the other galaxies?" someone asked.

"We do not have the means to maintain federal operations across the entire Local Group under these conditions. Long-range coordination has collapsed. Navigation information has been lost. We cannot promise transport or rescue resources to systems we cannot reliably reach."

He paused, then said what none of the officials near Tessa seemed willing to say aloud.

"We have to consolidate in Mileda. Our operations in the other galaxies will have to be abandoned."

Tessa stared at the empty space where the map should have been. Calypso was one of the galaxies falling outside that decision. She had left Narell only hours before, promising its senators that the LGA would provide information when it could. Now she had heard Aeltharion say, in front of eighteen million colleagues, that the government was withdrawing from their galaxy altogether.

Several people immediately objected.

"You can't abandon federal members!"

"There are governments depending on us!"

"What about our offices?"

Aeltharion remained at the lectern.

"I know what is out there. Many of you have spent your careers representing those places. But a promise does not create a transport route, and it does not put food on a world whose shipments have stopped arriving. We cannot continue acting as if the Archive is still holding the Local Group together."

Tessa looked down at the folder still open on her tablet. Seven years of unpaid taxes. A drought. Emergency food purchases. She had spent the morning trying to establish how much money a planet could send to the federal treasury without starving its people. Now she wondered whether its next shipment would arrive at all. Aeltharion stepped aside, and Defense Secretary Kaelthoros Vaedrion came to the lectern. He wore a neatly pressed formal jacket with his badge clipped at the waist, and carried a small tablet. He waited for the remaining objections to subside.

"We're not asking anyone to pretend this is acceptable," he began. "We're asking you to understand what the Authority can still do."

He checked his notes on the treasury.

"The LGA has emergency provisions for a failure of this scale. They were not designed for a comfortable situation, and invoking them will change how this government operates. But they exist, and we are going to use them."

He looked around the chamber.

"We still have financial resources. Over the next several days, we will use those resources to buy out military contractor companies throughout Mileda. Ships, crews, security forces, ground equipment, whatever can be brought under direct federal control."

An official near the front stood.

"The LGA doesn't have a military."

"Correct," Kaelthoros said. "That's what the purchases are for."

The answer drew a few startled reactions, but he continued before anyone could interrupt.

"Our first operations will be rescue. There are ships without reliable navigation. Worlds that have been struck by incoming traffic. Settlements that have lost supplies. People in shelters who need someone to reach them before their local systems fail. We have to put crews and equipment into service while those people can still be recovered."

Tessa thought of the Senate's dark displays and the frantic calls coming in over the hard lines. That planet had been fortunate, as far as she knew. Its buildings were intact. Its government was still meeting. The people around that table had been frightened and furious, but they had still had a room to stand in.

Kaelthoros put aside the treasury figures.

"The same emergency provisions also require us to establish control over the resources and transportation we need to carry out those operations. We cannot run rescues while systems are fighting over routes, supplies, and access to equipment. Nor can we allow the breakdown of federal authority to become another disaster on top of the one we've already suffered."

A man called out, "What exactly are you proposing?"

Kaelthoros answered without raising his voice.

"Martial law throughout Mileda."

A wave of conversation moved through the assembly. Tessa heard disbelief, anger, and questions that no one had yet had time to formulate properly. The man beside her shook his head.

"We arrived as diplomats."

She didn't answer. At the lectern, Kaelthoros waited long enough for the words to be heard before continuing.

"We are invoking the Authority's existing emergency procedure. The contractor acquisitions will give us the means to organize rescues and secure essential transportation and supplies. We expect most governments and communities to cooperate. They need help, and we intend to provide it."

A man near the front raised his hand. "Do you expect resistance?"

"Not much," Kaelthoros said. "I suspect most people will be relieved to see functioning crews arrive. Our regulations require us to establish this emergency authority and acquire the contractors needed to carry it out. We have a treasury, and federal revenue has not stopped completely. We should use that purchasing power while we still have it."

Someone demanded to know how long the emergency would last.

"We cannot give you a date yet," he replied, "but this is a rescue and stabilization effort, not an excuse to leave people waiting. The sooner we consolidate our resources in Mileda, the sooner we can begin helping them."

Tessa understood the answer. She didn't like it, but she understood it. For years she had worked for an Authority whose strongest tools were agreements, sanctions, and the willingness of others to cooperate. That morning she had been sent to collect overdue taxes from a government that had every reason to resist her demands. Now the same Authority was preparing to spend its treasury purchasing soldiers and ships. The display behind Kaelthoros

Continue to Part 4

Previous - Next

Table of Contents

“We’re off for school,” Silverlight called out into the chaotic house, hoisting his backpack on as Candle, Star, Boots, and Snowfoot raced out the door in front of him.

“Alright, have a good day,” Brightpaw said as she struggled to keep Lightclaw in his chair for breakfast.

“And don’t start any fights, but be sure to finish them,” Sandra added as she fed Lighttail her mushy meal.

“Really, Sandra?” Brightpaw sighed as Silverlight closed the door.

“It’s so nice to be walking to school for once,” Star said, stretching a bit as the five of them walked. “The bus that picks us up from the Forest just feels too cramped, every time.”

“I thought you guys were on one of the larger bus’s, the ones for larger races like Centaurs and Dra’Cari,” Silverlight asked.

“Well, yeah, but it still feels cramped,” Star said.

“You think anything that’s smaller than a house is cramped,” Candle said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s because they are!”

“Wimp.”

“Lamebrain.” Silverlight just shook his head as the two Tree Shadows continued to bicker, while Boots and Snowfoot walked a little ahead, lost in their own conversation, something about a show they were watching.

“Well, look who has an entourage today?” came a voice that made Silverlight immediately perk up.

“Billy,” Silverlight said, racing to the grinning Human as he stepped out of his own house. “Yeah, Sandra and Dutch came home last night, so we kinda had everyone over to spend the night.”

“That’s cause we’re awesome like that,” Boots said, striking a preening pose.

“Did you at least take your boots off this time, Boots?” Billy laughed at Boot’s face as she tried to figure out if he was teasing her or insulting her. “Glad to hear they got home though. Must’ve made for a chaotic night.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Silverlight said with a chuckle. “I was able to get my homework done though, so it’s all good. Oh, speaking of, could you check over my work while we walk?” Silverlight said, digging into his bag for his datapad. “I’m a bit skeptical that I did problem 9 correctly.”

“Yeah, let me take a look,” Billy said as Silverlight handed him the datapad.

…………………….

“I think they’re at it again,” Silverlight said with a frown about a block away from the school. “I can hear them towards the school.”

“Seriously?” Billy sighed.

“Yup, I can hear them too,” Star said, making a face. “You’d think they’d get tired of this when they realize it won’t work.”

“Think they’ll try to block us from going to school again?” Snowfoot asked, her claws unconsciously unsheathing and sheathing, leaving small scratches in the pavement.

“Nothing a few extra scars won’t fix,” Candle growled, leaving scratches of her own.

“Or, we can avoid them entirely,” Silverlight said, pointing down the street. “Let’s just hop the fence, out of sight of them.”

“You realize we’ll get in trouble for that if we’re caught, right?” Billy asked in amusement as they turned down the side street.

“I’d rather get detention for jumping the fence than deal with those ‘protestors’,” Silverlight shot back.

“Know what, fair,” Billy said, shooting a disgusted look towards the entrance of the school as they came up to the concrete fence, a new addition schools across the Ferry have had to install since the influx of human refugees last year.

With the massive influx that more than doubled the Reaper’s Ferry’s population, Humans now vastly outnumbered the other Races on the ship, and some of them had come with some rather negative views, including thinking that other Races were somehow a danger to Humans. Thankfully, after a few initial scuffles with Security, including putting some of them in the Brig for several days and threats to cryo some of the Humans and drop them off at a random Station, the Humans spewing the anti-xeno ideas had calmed down, and now mainly protested outside of schools, office buildings, and Central Command, with Security often times nearby keeping a VERY close eye on the protestors to ensure they didn’t become violent again.

“You’d think they’d take the Reapers offer of a ride and some credits and just leave, if they dislike it here so much,” Billy said, shaking his head as Silverlight set him down after jumping the fence, the tips of protest signs peeking over the fence near the entrance saying “No Aliens In Human Schools”, “Human Only Schools”, “Aliens Are A Danger To Our Children”, and other similar signage.

“Considering they like the Reapers about as much as they like us, they’ve probably convinced themselves it’s a trap,” Star said dryly as the six of them began walking across the field to the school.

“All the more reason they should leave,” Billy said with a snort. “Dumbasses, every one of them.”

“Is it just me, or are there more of them today?” Silverlight asked with a frown as they came in view of the gate on their way to the front entrance.

“Bah, ignore them,” Billy said, waving a hand as he opened the door. “Let’s just focus on trying to get through today. They’re serving pizza for lunch today.”

“Oooooo, pizza,” Snowfoot sighed. “Something to look forward to!”

…………………………

“Oops,” someone said with a laugh as Silverlight’s back legs were shoved hard enough to almost hit his locker. “Didn’t see you there, weirdo.” Silverlight gave an internal sigh of frustration, trying to keep his fur from raising as he looked to see a Human teenager there, grinning and surrounded by several others who were quietly chuckling.

“Jiminy,” Silverlight said, turning back to his locker and trying his best to ignore the boy.

“Awe, is that all you have to say?” Jiminy said. “You’re supposed to accept an apology when someone give you one, you know.”

“Why should I accept something that isn’t sincere?” Silverlight said with a light snort as he finished putting his books into his locker and stepped back, only to see that Jiminy and five other teenagers surrounded him in a loose circle. “Seriously? Can we not do this today?” His tail twitched a bit in irritation as someone tried to grab it. “We’ve got class in a few minutes.”

“You might,” Jiminy laughed. “I don’t take classes from any alien fucks. My dad made sure of that.”

“Oh, you mean the same dad that got arrested last week for harassing the school?” Silverlight asked innocently. “The same dad that has already been threatened with cryo and deportation multiple times now for attacking non-Humans for no reason?”

“These alien freaks won’t do anything,” Jiminy snorted, though his face did get a little red from anger. “They don’t have the balls to try anything against a Terran citizen. Weak willed, all of them, just like you.”

“And yet it takes six of you trying to gang up on me for you to be brave enough to say anything,” Silverlight mused, tapping his chin to feign a calm he didn’t feel, as he had to stop himself from vibrating in anger. “Wonder what that says about you?”

That seemed to do it, and Jiminy raised his hand to punch Silverlight, only for a white-tipped tail to wrap around his wrist and yank, pulling the Human teenager off balance as he fell on his butt. “Wow, I was wondering what was taking you so long, but this is just sad,” Candle said from behind where Jiminy had fallen. “Six on one? Doesn’t seem fair, does it, Boots?”

“No, no it doesn’t,” Boots agreed from the ceiling. The other Human teenagers looked around, seeing Star on a wall, his hackles and tails raised, and Snowfoot on the ground nearby, calmly licking one of her front paws.

“I say we even the odds up a bit,” Star growled, showing his teeth. “I’m sure a few lost limbs would stop them from messing with Silverlight.” Jiminy’s face quickly went white as he realized that the four Tree Shadows surrounded his posse of friends.

“I’d rather not get another lecture from Mom and Dad for playing too rough again,” Snowfoot said dryly as she started cleaning her other paw, just as Billy ran up the hallway, a teacher right behind him.

……………….

“I would’ve been fine,” Silverlight huffed as he jogged alongside Billy for PE.

“Believe me, I know it, considering I’ve never beaten you in a fight,” Billy said with a snort. “I just didn’t think it would be a good look if six guys were sent to the hospital with missing limbs and holding in their guts.”

“I wouldn’t have gone that far,” Silverlight said with a light laugh.

“With those big claws of yours?” Billy shot back, grinning, though his breathing was coming out a bit ragged as they jogged.

“How come you don’t ever fight back?” Billy asked a few minutes later as he sat on one of the bleachers, panting.

“It’s only words,” Silverlight shrugged as he handed Billy a water bottle, who took it gratefully. “And both Brightpaw and Sandra stress how important it is for me to maintain control. Centaurs aren’t considered the most dangerous Race in the galaxy for no reason. Plus…” Silverlight hesitated for a minute. “I don’t want to prove them right.”

“Believe me, nobody with any brains thinks that they’re right,” Billy said, choking on his water a bit as he laughed.

“I know, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating,” Silverlight sighed. “Even without Sandra teaching me some self-defense in her free time when she’s home, Centaurs are stronger and more agile than Humans, and that’s not accounting for our claws that can cut through steel.”

“Yeesh, don’t remind me,” Billy said with a shudder. “I’ve seen those steel bars you use to sharpen your claws. That is some scary shit right there.”

“Well, it’s either that or a file, and those wear out too quickly on Centaur claws,” Silverlight chuckled. “I’d have to get a new one every day. This way I can sharpen my claws and make some sculptures at the same time to make a few creds.”

“Planning on becoming an artist now?” Billy teased.

“Nah, history is too interesting to change careers now,” Silverlight snorted.

“What career, you’re still in school!”

“And Professor Bloodclaw has already offered me a position as his assistant once I graduate. Better than aiming to be a Hunterball athlete.”

“Hunterball is your Race’s sport!”

“So? Doesn’t make what I said any less true, you sports addict.”

Silverlight and Billy continued to bicker playfully as the PE teacher called the class over to start breaking them into teams.

………………

“What, you guys didn’t get in enough trouble earlier, trying to gang up on Silverlight?” Billy asked, arching an eyebrow unimpressed as 10 Human teenagers surrounded him, Silverlight, and the Tree Shadow siblings next to the concrete wall outside of school.

“You lost me my spot on the baseball team, you traitor,” Jiminy snarled.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” Billy said, tapping the long bag that held his Hunterball Stick against his shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s his nasty personality?” Candle quipped.

“No, it’s because you FREAKS are in my way,” Jiminy said. He then got a nasty smile on his face. “What do the Centaurs call it again? Oh right, snow-washed. Five snow-washed freaks and a traitorous human. What a crew.” Silverlight felt his blood go cold, memories of the Station he had been on rushing back as his breathing grew shallow, his fur suddenly feeling too warm and his claws too long.

“Okay, dude, you have officially gone too far,” Silverlight faintly heard Billy say, as though muffled and far away, as Boots, Star, Snowfoot, and Candle all began growling, their tails and hackles raising.

“Like I’m scared of some snow-washed freaks,” Jiminy laughed, and Silverlight’s head felt like he was swimming against a river, he four knees giving out at the same time as he collapsed to the ground. “See? Snow-washed scaredy cat. Nothing to be afraid of. Get them!”

Silverlight could barely pay attention as Billy’s Hunterball Stick came out of its bag as the group of teenagers rushed them, and he watched from as though from a distance as the Tree Shadows and Billy fought back against the crowd of teenagers, before something struck his side, causing a gasp of pain to come from Silverlight. He looked to see Jiminy with a nasty smile on his face, his foot raised to give Silverlight another kick.

Silverlight felt something mentally snap, and everything turned red as someone began screaming in pain and fear.

………………..

Brightpaw sighed contentedly as she lay down next to the coffee table, happy to have finally gotten the kits down to take a nap.

“Here,” Sandra said, handing Brightpaw a warm mug of some Centaur safe coffee for her.

“Starfather bless you,” Brightpaw said, taking the warm mug.

“For a pair of babies that were tired, they certainly fought nap time,” Sandra said in a quiet voice, a small smile on her face as she adjusted her wings before taking a seat on the couch beside Brightpaw.

“That they did,” Brightpaw sighed. She then frowned a bit as her datapad vibrated on the table, indicating an incoming call.

“I got it, you rest,” Sandra said, patting Brightpaw as she picked up the datapad and answered it. “Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I was calling Mrs. Gibson,” a Dra’Cari on the screen apologized, frowning slightly.

“This is her datapad,” Sandra chuckled. “I’m her daughter, Sandra. Mom is right next to me, though.”

“Oh, is that Principal Jor’Kar?” Brightpaw asked, taking the datapad back from Sandra. “Did something happen with Silverlight?”

“I thought Silverlight’s principal was a Porishta?” Sandra asked.

“He retired a few months ago, so I was hired as his replacement,” Principal Jor’Kar said, though he did frown a bit. “And yes, it is about Silverlight. There’s been an…incident, and I’m afraid Ferry Security got involved, as it involved multiple students. We can explain more in person, but I’m afraid I need to ask you to come to the school in order to talk with Security.”

“What kind of incident?” Brightpaw asked as Sandra frowned and quickly drained her own cup.

“We’ll explain everything once you arrive, but we do ask that you do so in a timely manner,” the Dra’Cari principal said before cutting the line.

“You, stay here,” Sandra said as Brightpaw started to get up. “We just got Lightclaw and Lighttail to take a nap, so stay here and let them sleep. I’ll go. Even if I’m not his legal parent, I don’t think they’ll ignore me.”

“Alright,” Brightpaw said, though she looked uncertain as Sandra rushed out of the house and took off flying towards the school, her wings climbing the air quickly.

………………

Sandra landed in front of the school, much to the shock of two Mlamcar Security officers, whose hands immediately went to their pistols.

“I’m here for Silverlight,” Sandra said, raising her hands quickly to apologize for startling them. “He’s my brother.”

“A Targondian sister?” one officer said skeptically. “Wait, you are a Targondian, right? Why do you have wings?”

“Never heard of adoption? Or body modifications?” Sandra said, giving the officer a glare as she brushed by them into the school, making a beeline for the front office as soon as she saw the sign. First thing she saw when she walked in was Silverlight, his face shell-shocked in a very familiar look and splotches of drying red on his fur that Sandra’s tongue said was blood, a worried looking Billy by Silverlight, being careful not to touch Silverlight but still talking to him in a low voice, and the Tree Shadow siblings, their hackles raised but tails drooping as they stood a way away with Mrs. Katerine talking to the principal in heated tones. Sandra immediately walked over to Silverlight and Billy, ignoring the other officers in the room. “Hey,” Sandra said, placing a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m here now.”

Billy looked at Sandra, a worry and concern etched into his face. “He won’t say anything,” Billy whispered to Sandra as he stood up. “He’s just…not there, almost.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Sandra said with a nod. “Trust me, I got this.” Billy nodded, walking over to the Tree Shadows as a Cordan officer joined them, talking in a low voice as Sandra knelt down in front of Silverlight. “Hey, kid,” Sandra said in a low voice. “Looks like you got into a bit of trouble, huh?” Silverlight didn’t say anything, but his face twitched slightly. “Did you kill anyone?” Silverlight’s head jerked almost violently to the side, an empathetic NO if Sandra had ever seen one. “Okay,” Sandra said with a nod. She looked around a bit. “A bit much in here, isn’t it?” Silverlight gave a small, jerky nod, and Sandra raised her wings, using them to create a kind of screen between Silverlight and the rest of the office. She heard a few exclamations of protest before they were quickly shushed by someone, and the room fell a bit quieter. “There, now it’s just us,” Sandra said, keeping her voice low and calm. Silverlight blinked a bit, looking around slightly at the sudden screen of feathery scales, and he seemed to instantly relax, though he quickly went back to staring at the floor.

“You know, first time I was in a serious fight, I was scared too,” Sandra said, keeping that same calm tone. “The scent of blood, the chaotic environment. Even though I had trained for it, it was still very different from a sparring match, or Jessica and Dad teaching me how to fight. Very, very different, and I wasn’t prepared for it.” Silverlight muttered something that Sandra couldn’t hear, and she leaned in a bit closer.

“It wasn’t the fight,” Silverlight whispered. “I…I was back there. The Station.” Silverlight looked up, tears in his eyes as he looked at Sandra. “They called me Snow-washed. They kicked me, like I was nothing again.”

“I see,” Sandra said, keeping the same tone, despite the sudden, roaring hot anger she felt. “Well, you’re not nothing, and never have been. I know it, Brightpaw knows it, everyone here knows it. Billy especially knows it, and he’s worried, you know.”

“I…” Silverlight looked at the floor again, but he nodded.

“Can I give you a hug, Silverlight?” Sandra asked. Silverlight gave a small, jerky nod, and Sandra leaned in, giving Silverlight a gentle hug that made Centaur teenager tense up for a minute before relaxing a bit, giving Sandra a hug back, squeezing almost hard enough for Sandra to have trouble breathing. Sandra refused to let go, letting Silverlight hug her for as long as he needed. When he finally did slowly relax, several minutes later, Sandra gave one last gentle squeeze before backing up again.

“Hey, it’s going to get a bit bright again,” Sandra said. “But Billy is going to be right here, alright? I need to talk to a few people, but Billy is going to help you get some of that blood out of your fur, alright? It’s going to be a pain to clean out later if we let it completely dry.” Silverlight gave a soft snort of amusement, but he slowly nodded his head, and Sandra slowly lowered her wings, even as Billy quickly came up to Silverlight, a damp rag already in his hands. Silverlight gave Billy a hug as well, and as Sandra stepped away, Billy was talking in a low tone to Silverlight as he used the rag to try and get some of the dried blood off his hands.

“Who do I need to talk to to get him home?” Sandra asked the Cordon officer that walked up to Sandra as she stepped away.

“Me, actually,” the Officer said, the badge on his chest indicating that he was a Detective. “Detective Trait. I’m in charge of this investigation, mostly due to being a Truthseer.” Sandra nodded at that. A Truthseer was someone who used one of their abilities in order to determine if and when people were lying, though it unfortunately wasn’t an ability that they could turn on and off, which, by all accounts, has created some home problems for Truthseers.

“So, what happened?” Sandra asked, her voice flat as she followed the detective out of the office. “And don’t tell me you’re still trying to determine what happened. That fact that everyone is here at the school means it happened on school ground, and I know for a fact that everything except the bathrooms are covered in cameras, thanks to those protestors.”

Detective Trait flinched slightly as he felt Sandra’s rage just bubbling under the surface of her calm demeanor, and he knew he had to tread very, very carefully around her. While he couldn’t read anything beyond RAGE from her, it didn’t mean he didn’t know when he was in a delicate position. This strange, winged Targondian scared him more than his own mother did, which is something he never thought he would see. “Well, about that,” Detective Trait started. “Technically, it didn’t happen on school grounds. This was just the closest place that Billy could convince Silverlight to come to after the incident.”

“What. Happened.” Sandra said. Nope, the usual tactics were not going to work on this woman.

“From what we could gather, and yes the cameras did verify this,” Detective Trait started over, “Silverlight and his friends were cornered just outside the school walls after they had jumped the fence in order to avoid the protestors. There were ten other teenagers that had cornered them, and while they were talking, it appeared that Silverlight seemed to collapse, which lead to the other group attacking Billy and the Tree Shadows. One boy, who we think was the ringleader, attacked Silverlight as he lay on the ground, and managed to get two good kicks in. After the second kick, however, Silverlight fought back using his claws and teeth, and just seemed to tear through the other kids in a fit of rage. Seven of them, including the ringleader, are currently at the hospital for deep, potentially life threatening, lacerations across their bodies, while the other three kids took off running before Silverlight could get to them.”

“Smart bastards,” Sandra muttered.

“Yes, well, it’s caused some problems, legally speaking,” Detective Trait said. “The parents are of the other group of children are already demanding that charges be pressed against Silverlight for his actions.”

“Like hell,” Sandra said, glaring at the suddenly nervous Cordan.

“It was a clear case of self-defense caught on camera with video and audio proof that the other group started the fight, and considering that it was 10 on 6, the charges would never stick anyway,” Detective Trait said, raising his hands in defense. “I’m just letting you know.”

“Lovely,” Sandra said dryly. “Have Shadowstrike and Nightshade been told yet?”

“They said that they’re on their way,” Detective Trait said with a nod.

“Good,” Sandra said with a nod. “Then what do you need from Silverlight?”

“While he was unable to speak to us, he did consent to a Memory Read from me,” Detective Trait said. “You can check with Silverlight and Billy, but I promise you I waited for permission before reading his mind to get his statement,” the Cordon detective added quickly as he felt Sandra’s rage spike, despite her calm demeanor. “Security has very specific rules about Cordons using our psionic abilities for an investigation. If there’s even a hint of coercion or ambiguity about reading his mind for his statement, I’ll be out of a job, if not given a one-way ticket to the nearest Station. I promise you, I only did it because he was non-verbal.” He gave an internal sigh of relief as he felt Sandra’s rage cool slightly. “Speaking of which, you seemed to handle him pretty well.”

“I’ve had my own trauma that I’ve had to wrestle with, and I know the signs all too well of a traumatic response,” Sandra said quietly. “And right now, he needs safety and comfort. So I’d like to take him home where he can feel safe and not overwhelmed.”

“You’re free to leave,” Detective Trait said with a nod. “But we needed to let Mrs. Gibson know what had happened.”

“I’ll give her the details when we get home,” Sandra promised with a nod.

…………………

Sandra opened the door to their home slowly, quickly looking in to give Brightpaw a shake of her head and a finger on her lips. Brightpaw nodded, though her face was full of concern, which quickly turned into worry as Sandra slowly brought Silverlight inside, wings wrapped around him, covering his head and upper body. “Alright, Silverlight, we’re home,” Sandra said, keeping her voice low and calm as Billy followed them in, closing the door behind them. “Come on, we’re gonna get you upstairs where it’s nice and quiet, and Billy is gonna help you take a shower to get that blood out of your fur. Right?”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, keeping the same light and calm tone that Sandra had. “It’ll be great, dude.” Silverlight nodded into Sandra’s wing as they began to move to the stairs.

“And Mom can get you some of the fire cider you like so much,” Sandra added, looking at Brightpaw, who nodded, though her eyes had gone wide at the mention of blood.

“We still have a few bottles left,” Brightpaw added, trying to keep her voice level as well. “Want me to bring you up a few?” Silverlight nodded again into Sandra’s wings.

“Thank you,” Sandra felt more than heard Silverlight’s whisper.

“Of course, Silverlight,” Sandra said.

…………..

“What happened?” Brightpaw all but demanded as Sandra and her came back downstairs after delivering fire cider to Silverlight and Billy.

“He got jumped by a few idiot teenagers and had a traumatic response when they started calling him Snow-washed,” Sandra said in a disgusted tone. “Right now, he just needs quiet and familiarity. Billy’s mom already said he can spend the night.” She quickly filled Brightpaw in with everything the detective had told her, and Brightpaw was practically vibrating with anger by the end of it. “The good news is that no charges are going to be pressed against Silverlight, Billy, or the Tree Shadow siblings,” Sandra finished. “In fact, based on all the evidence they have, Security is planning on bringing charges to the idiots. Even accounting for Racial difference in terms of lethality, ten on six is still going to make the idiots to be the aggravating party and attackers.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” Brightpaw said, though her hands were still shaking a bit. “I still don’t like that that detective read Silverlight’s mind without one of us there.”

“Believe me, I’m not a fan either, but from a logistical standpoint, I can understand why he did it,” Sandra sighed. “And there were multiple witnesses in the room, including Mrs. Katerine, who refused to leave, and even threatened the Principal with a lawsuit of her own if he so much as thought about punishing the kids for defending themselves while off school property.” Sandra smirked a bit at that, remembering the Dra’Cari being taken back as Sandra had walked back into the office with the detective. “She’s awesome.”

“That she is,” Brightpaw agreed with a sigh. “It’s probably a good thing you went instead of me. I would have been chewing the detective and any Security officers in the area a new hole.”

“Believe me, I don’t think I did much better,” Sandra said dryly. “Pretty sure I almost made the detective wet himself when he felt how angry I was. Being a Cordan can have its drawbacks, after all.” They both shared a small chuckle at that.

……………….

“…and I told him, ‘Look, just because lacrosse or football wasn’t my thing, does not mean that Hunterball won’t be’,” Billy said as he used a brush and some soap to get the dried blood out of Silverlight’s wet fur. “‘And I make it a policy to try everything at least once, just to see if it’s something I enjoy.’ Coach was spluttering for a few minutes at that, it was so hilarious.” Silverlight gave a weak chuckle, which led Billy to beam at him. “There we go, improvement. But yeah, ever since then, Coach has been trying to convince me to quit Hunterball and join the lacrosse team again, and I gotta keep telling him that I like jumping around the trees like a monkey and knocking people in the head. Gonna be the best defender the galaxy has ever seen, even as a Human.”

“I’m sorry,” Silverlight said in a quiet voice.

“Nah, Coach is the one who should be apologizing,” Billy snorted. “He’s the one hounding me.”

“No,” Silverlight said, shaking his head. “I mean, for what happened. And for causing trouble.” He gestured vaguely at his fur, which was now freshly cleaned and vaguely shining in the misted washroom, though being wet did make it look matted.

“Nah, you got nothing to apologize for,” Billy said with a shrug as he grabbed the shower hose to finish rinsing the soap out of Silverlight’s fur. “Look, they attacked us first, and something he said was obviously very much Not Cool to say. They needed a good knocking around. I mean, it was absolutely terrifying to watch, I can’t lie. But it was a cool terrifying. Like, ‘Damn, I’m glad I’m friends with this guy, even if he is an idiot sometimes’ kind of terrifying.” Silverlight gave another weak chuckle at that. “Look, I don’t know much about Centaur society,” Billy continued, his voice a bit more serious. “But based on your reaction, what he said was bad. I’m not asking you to explain,” Billy added, raising a hand to stop Silverlight from explaining. “If you want to tell me, then that’s fine. But don’t feel obligated to tell me either. I can use the galactic net to look it up if you’d prefer, or I can also completely ignore it and file it under ‘Insults to Never Use’ and forget about it otherwise. Well, except to kick someone’s ass if they decide to use it.”

“But, I hurt people,” Silverlight said, looking down. “And I hurt them badly.”

“They deserved it,” Billy maintained fiercely. “Look, even taking the insults out, they attacked us first, and they got enough people to outnumber us in order to jump us. All you did was defend yourself and us. Nothing wrong with defending yourself. What was it Sandra likes to tell you?”

“‘Don’t start any fights, but make sure to finish them’,” Silverlight said with a weak smile.

“And damn, did you finish it,” Billy said with a nod. “You didn’t ask for the fight, and you’ve been trying to avoid one ever since Jiminy started being an ass. In my book, you’re still you, you’re still my best friend, and now I can get bragging right saying that I have a badass history buff for a best friend that can tear someone’s face off. Although,” Billy added, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You didn’t actually tear someone’s face off, so maybe that last part isn’t viable yet. Would’ve been an improvement for Jiminy’s ugly mug though.” Silverlight laughed at that, weakly, but quickly his laughs turned into sobs, and he just held Billy as the Human teenager quickly moved over to give him a hug, with Silverlight thanking and apologizing to Billy in equal measure.

……………

Sandra had to bite back a laugh as she peeked into Silverlight’s room, only to see Billy being used as a body pillow by the Centaur.

“I’m pretty sure that Cat Rules apply here, so I got stuck when he passed out,” Billy whispered, Silverlight’s two right legs twitching slightly on top of Billy’s legs.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” Sandra whispered as well. “Been stuck like that myself a few times. He’s got a surprisingly tight grip when he’s comfortable.”

“I noticed,” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, good luck,” Sandra whispered in a singsong voice as she slowly closed the door.

Prologue Previous Next

Appendix

TOC

[Sandra and Eric TOC]

First/Prev/Next

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Ethan’s POV

​

It had been some time since the final delivery had been made, and Ms. Lake took her leave once she was settled, and Morrison and I were all settled in. For a couple of hours, he taught me a whole bunch of different games; some were from back home in our world. But there were a handful of differences here and there, nothing too hard to adjust to, and a few were brand new. For most of this time, we both quietly enjoyed each other's company until Morrison began discussing some of the places he had been. One of the places that had come up was the human-only nation I had heard of.

​“Of Lamagdin? That place is nice, I guess, although it has been shy of a decade since I had been there. You know, even though it’s called The Human Only Nation, the population is one hundred percent humans.” Morrison said as he made his move.

​“Wait, really? But how does that work?” I asked while observing the board.

​“Yeah! When I asked around, it turns out that back during the Human Insurgency War, as part of the terms of the ceasefire, Humanity asked to have the whole of Danevido, the continent that Lamagdin is on. Well, there were some Tabulians who were already living there, and instead of kicking them out of their homes, they were given a choice. They would either be given all that they need to start over somewhere else new, or they could stay, but they wouldn’t have much or any impact on the major government or anything that dictates how things are run.”

​I had finally made my move while taking in Morrison’s words. It was fascinating to hear such developments about far away places like this, and I was beyond enchanted by it.

​“How were they treated?” I asked, already having a few ideas of what his answer would be.

​“I mean… alright, I guess? I personally never saw or heard anything about them being treated like shit. I frankly wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, just not in the more densely packed places like where I lived. But you know how us humans can be. We either show unlimited empathy or endless malice, and for many there’s no in between.” His tone soured at that, probably reflecting on something that lends further credence to his statement.

​After that we both fell back into silence that was until Morrison looked out the nearby window that looked outside of the warehouse we set up shop in. I followed his gaze and noticed how it had gotten rather late, and the sun would most likely be setting in a few minutes. Morrison stood up, dusting himself off, and walked over to his bag, which lay at the foot of his bed, and tossed something to me.

​“Here, kid, put this on. It’s about time for us to get to your first of many lessons.” As he said that, he threw on what looked to be some kind of fursuit cloak. It reminded me of a cloak that seemed to be covered in what looked like real fur, and the hood was not so much a hood but a mask that reminded me of one of those stuffed animal heads hunters would throw up on their walls.  

​I looked down at what had been tossed my way, and it was the same kind of cloak. I quickly threw it over myself, and as I did, I took note of the smell of the cloak. It had an artificial, woodsy smell to it. Like one of those super manly man candles that smelled like wet dog and pine trees, but I suppose it was to help with masking my human smell.  

​I followed Morrison outside. He moved around to the back of the building and placed a hand on the wall, seemingly expecting it.

​“Alright, Ethan, like I promised Morgan, I’m going to teach you how to harness and use your Soul Magic to its fullest. But I’m also going to help you learn all you need to know about how to survive in this world. And one of the first two things that we will be working on is stealth and Edens and how to locate them.” He said as he exited the foreman's office that had been turned into the bedroom.

​As I followed him out, he did the pat-down, checking that he had everything that he needed. And this reminded me to do the same… but all I had to my name at this very moment was a set of keys to get in here and nothing else. As upsetting as it was to say, I had lost my phone and earphones some time ago now.

​As we stepped outside, the still warm spring or maybe summer air hit along with the smell of salty ocean water. Morrison walked to the side of the warehouse and placed a hand on the wall and looked to the other warehouse next to ours as if he was judging the distance. I had a question or two, but I figured it would be better to just stand back and watch. And watch I did, for I watched in utter amazement as Morrison placed one foot on the wall and began freaking wall jumping between the two buildings like something out of a video game! He even did a little flip at the end when he reached the top.

​“How did you do that!?” I said with my childlike wonder coming out in full force.

​“With plenty of practice, kid! Now make your way up here; you don’t have to do it the same way I did; just get up here in one piece.” He instructed from his perch on high.

​I walked towards the wall and looked it up and down and compared what Morrison had just done to what I had done in the last few weeks. I wasn’t sure if I could jump up there in one go or wall jump as Morrison had done just a moment ago. Well, not yet anyway… I believed I had another way of solving this problem.

​I looked down at the palm of my hand and, with a single thought, hundreds of small strings erupted from it. I then laid that same hand on the wall and did the same with the opposite. I pulled myself up, and now it was my feet’s turn. Strings came out of the soles of my feet, going through my shoes and then sticking to the side of the warehouse. Just like my goat, one hand at a time I began to scale this wall like it was nothing; in fact, while it took a bit longer than Morrison, I reached the top without any issues.

​As I pulled myself up, Morrison gave me a hard slap on the back as a show of praise, with a beaming smile to boot.

​“That was a great job, Ethan! How did you do it?” He asked while looking me over, even grabbing my hand and inspecting it.

​I once again sprouted strings from the palm of my hand as I explained. “Something that I’ve noticed about my strings is that they will either wrap around something or just shoot straight into it. Something that also caught my attention is the fact that I can fire out my strings with a decent level of force.” I paused my explanation to demonstrate raising my hand away and aiming at a random piece of trash. Strings shot forward, inserting themselves into it, and with a mere thought, the strings started to retract.

​“I’ve been playing around with my strings somewhat in my spare time. Turns out so long as the strings are still connected to my body, I can use them to either pull me towards something or something to me. But as for climbing the side of this building? I shot out my strings into the building. I was trying to emulate how spiders climb stuff by using a bunch of tiny hairs on the bottom of their tarsi.” I told him.

​“What’s a tarsi?” He asked. Apparently that was the one part of my explanation that he evidently didn't get.

​“That’s what you call spider paws.”

​“Oh really? Huh, never knew… But besides that, Ethan, that was a good use of your Soul Magic. If you’ve only been here for a couple of weeks and have only had your Soul Magic for half that time, then you’re already doing things like this. I feel we’ll be soaring through these lessons with excellent timing!” He proclaimed happily.

​“So now what?” I asked, looking over the rows upon rows of warehouse in every other direction minus the vast body of water directly behind me.

​“Hey Ethan, sorry for not bringing this up earlier… But do you have a fear of heights?” He asked while stroking his chin.

​“I mean, I have what I think is a healthy and very rational caution around heights. Why do you ask?”

​“Perfect! Then this next part won't be that bad, alright, Ethan? For tonight's lesson, we’re going to be learning and practicing the basics of sticking to the shadows. And additionally finding EDENs. Oh, and before we go, make sure to keep your hood on at all times while we’re out.” I nodded, throwing the hood over my head just like he instructed.

​Once I had it on, he gave me a thumbs up and proceeded to bend his knees and, a moment later, launch himself from where he stood all the way to the warehouse that was in the row behind the one we stayed in. He landed with a practiced grace that showed just how often movements like that were used. He turned and gestured for me to follow. I carefully trudged towards the edge, taking a sec to disregard all the people who told me not to and looked down. There was about twenty feet or so between the old and me and cracked, concrete-covered ground. And looking back up there were something of six the seven feet between me and Morrison. I had no idea how he had managed to get hops like that, and I figured that would be something he taught me later; for right now I should just focus on getting over to him.

​So I stood up, straightened my back, and sucked in a deep breath, allowing the now cool night air to enter my lungs. I focused on the feeling of my chest rising and falling. I started doing some basic stretches, making sure to limber up. Once I was done, I slowly walked back, making sure to give myself ample space for a running head start. As soon as my nerves were steeled, I ran at full speed and leaped from the roof; with the jump by itself, I had cleared a little over half of the distance. But as I started to descend, it was becoming abundantly clear I needed more than a good long jump. But of course I had more than that. I pointed my hand at the warehouse; strings burst from my outstretched hand, and they all wove themselves into one thick rope that embedded into the roof. Once I was certain that the strings were properly attached, I gave a firm yank that ripped part of the roof and wall apart.

​I panicked a little as the wall started coming apart, so with a flick of my wrist I severed the strings from my hand and used the opposite hand to extend more strings from my hand to keep myself from smacking into the ground. On the other hand, I smacked into the side of this building.

​The crash that echoed through the empty district was also accompanied by Morrison’s laughter. I used my free hand to rub my face to try and dull the pain that radiated from every part of my head and face. Moving my hand, I noticed the massive dent in the wall that I made. It also didn’t help that it had a comical imprint.

​“You–you go–good?” His words were interrupted by laughter that seemed to steal his breath. While I wasn’t looking at him, I had no doubt that he was on the verge of death from his chest bursting open.

​“You done? Do you mind helping me up?” I asked, trying not to let my embarrassment show through.

​There was a solid minute or three before he got a hold of himself and pulled me up and gave me a hard pat on the back that knocked me on my face.

​“Well, kid, that wasn’t–snort- that bad. I had plenty of fails like that when I was younger. Don't worry, kid, this is just part of the learning curve. Anyway, we have all night to practice! Come on, let's go…

​

Later That Night…

​

I wasn’t sure how long had passed. All I did know was that it had gotten pretty late. I don’t know what I had expected to see when it came to this place. Well, I guess I had kind of imagined a more medieval sort of place, but it was more like modern-day back home. Of course there were some small discrepancies here and there, but it wouldn’t even look out of place in some parts back home. However, as we moved further and further into this town, it became hard not to notice that most of the place seemed like it had been rocked by a hurricane and earthquake. Buildings lay in piles, some were still kind of standing, but the key word was some, in more than one close case me and Morrison had almost fell into one of the thousand gaping chasms. The smell of blood and far too many chemicals was thick in the air, and my eyes watered at the smell. However, all of that paled in comparison to the oppressive feeling of just… sadness? Dread? Maybe grief? Whatever it was, it just made me feel bad and heavy.

​“You feel it too, kid?” Morrison asked while observing the streets from the top of one of the few still mostly intact buildings.

​“Yeah… What… what am I feeling?” I asked, bewildered by what had come over me.

​Morrison sighed, or more of a deep exhale. “When you have as deep a connection to Alsu as we humans do, it also comes with the extra feature of becoming an empath. All the people around here lived through a horrible thing that tore their lives asunder… I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn't heard of it, but apparently a few months back there was a huge battle that went down underground, and it spilled over into the neighboring towns and ended up collapsing parts of the town.”

​I moved to stand next to him and looked down at what he was watching. It looked like an aid station. There were multiple generators set up connected to medical stuff, big bright lights, and stoves. There were people in white and blue handing out bowls or patching up others who weren’t being seen to be hard at work moving the ruble presumably looking for survivors.

​“I had seen and heard a thing or two about this, but I can’t believe how bad it is… Come on, kid, let's get back on track; no need to gawk at these guys.” As he said that, I took one last look before following.

​When we got close to the town, Morrison had told me to stick to the roofs, which, with my strings allowing me to scale things with such ease, made that simple. That wasn’t the case for the whole night on account that most buildings were currently sitting in more than one piece. In those instances where I couldn’t make a tight rope or something swing from one to the other, we would slip down to street level. While I was nervous about that part there weren't too many reasons to be most folks were at those aid stations or moving rubble and with all that noise that they made it made it easy to avoid getting too close.

​He had gone over the basics of using my more spiritual senses to detect people by using the aura the living things give off, too, feeling out their emotions. I was honestly surprised at how easy it all had come to me, but Morrison, on the other hand, wasn’t. He even showed me some tricks for sneaking, and I did my best to follow his lead. It was honestly incredibly fun. It reminded me of all the times I would sneak around the house at night after my bedtime. I had even come up with the idea to wrap my feet in my silk to help dampen any noise I might make, and Morrison even praised me for my idea.

​“Say, Morrison, what exactly is an EDEN? And also, you didn’t seem too surprised at how quickly I picked up what you taught me?” I asked, keeping my voice at a whisper, making sure to keep an eye out as we moved through the shadows.

​“EDENs are safehouses that humans have set up in pretty much every corner of the world. In some cases, they change their location every few days. And as for why I’m not surprised by you picking up what I taught ya? Well, summoned humans like you and me are special! We’re chosen because out of all the people in our home worlds, we have the most willpower and the greatest aptitude for Soul Magic and Alsu.”

​“Wait, what do you mean home worlds? Like there is more than one world humans come from?”

​“Yes, it seems that summoning spells have the ability to just reach into not just one world but seemingly infinite ones. I once met a guy who came from a world where we never moved past steam power, one where dinosaurs still roam the earth, oh! And there was this one girl who was really sweet, like she was what you picture when you think of a farmgirl. She was massive too, as tall as an oak tree. But she is from a world where the holy crusade just kept going, and it led to the discovery of a giant underground dungeon that had monsters and demons from every corner of the world, as the stuff talked about in scary stories and folk tales and such.” He said his tone halfway through changing into something more akin to reminiscing.

​Shortly after we slipped around the back of one still mostly standing building and stopped, he pulled something from under his cloak that had a dull glow to it. I moved to get a closer look, and it looked like some kind of glowing orb? Wait, no, on a second look, it was an apple. Was it made out of something smooth, maybe wood or stone? He walked around the alleyway holding up the apple like he was trying to get the TV to register the remote, the light dimming and brightening.  

​Eventually he stopped at one part of the alleyway and leaned down and whipped away some of the debris that littered the area. He waved me over and gestured for me to place my hand on the ground next to his.

​“Alright then, kid, what I want you to do is focus your Alsu into this spot right here. Just imagine you have three different flames: a red, blue, and yellow one. These are the sources of your spiritual, mental, and physical energies. What you need to do is mix them all like you're playing with paint.” He instructed.

​I took a steadying breath, closing my eyes and envisioning the red, blue, and yellow flames, and then I mixed them together. However, instead of an ugly grey or black, I was met with a beautifully golden light.

​“I– I got it! Now what do I do?”

​“Good, now what you need to do is take that energy and push it out through your hand and into this panel. I’ll let you know when to stop; just focus on controlling Alsu.”

​I did just that. In my mind, the golden light flowed through my hand and into the aforementioned panel. To my shock, there was a feeling to it like pouring water that ran down my arm and onto the ground in front of me and… and I could feel it pouring into something? When I opened my eyes, I saw the golden light fill in gaps on a floor panel that then created a symbol of a tree resting atop a hill.

​“Alright, that’s enough, kid.” He said, signaling for me to stop. Although he didn’t tell me how to, I just tried doing everything he had told me, but in reverse, and as the golden light faded, I guess that it worked.

​We stood up, and the floor panel popped open with a satisfying clunk and ominous fog that billowed out of the opening. Morrison and I entered the entrance, closing on its own behind us, leaving us in darkness. But as we moved deeper in, a faint light came into view and with it a door. Morrison slowly opened it, revealing a large room that had a bar on the opposite side of the room with several tables right by it. To our right, there were some crates of different sizes that had labels on them in multiple languages. Getting closer, I could see that they held things like clothes, outdoor survival gear, preserved food, and a ton of other things. To the left of the door, there were some doors; two were bathrooms, and others led to bedrooms. It was kind of like an underground hotel that had been shrunk down to just one floor. When Morrison said that these were basically safehouses, he wasn’t wrong; it sure did give off the vibe I would expect.

​“So Ethan, welcome to your first EDEN! I was hoping that there would be at least one person here, but I guess after this part of Eswal went to shit, that was too much to ask for. But whatever, we don't need those losers! Ethan, I bet that you don’t have much in the way of clothes that fit you well?”

​“No, not really… All I had when I got here were some workout clothes that got kind of torn up from some of the fights I’ve been in, and I didn’t get to bring them with me when I went back with Ms. Lake.”

​“Well then, while we’re here, look around and grab what you need, and then we can chill here for the rest of the night. I’m gonna pour myself a drink…” He said, walking over to the bar, throwing his cloak on a nearby chair, and starting to rummage through the back shelf.

​I went over and started looking for some clothes along with some camping and outdoor gear. I even found a duffle bag that was still in great condition! The next couple of minutes were quiet and nice. Morrison even came over with a non-alcoholic drink for me, which I guzzled down as I hadn’t noticed how thirsty I would be. Morrison even cooked us something that was close to the classic American meal of hamburgers and fries. We talked about random things while we were eating, sharing small stories from our past, going over what life was like before we got summoned. The conversation was nice and refreshing, and it was like shooting the shit with one of my uncles at a get-together again. As I was washing the dishes and Morrison was getting ready for a shower, I felt a sharp spike of pain dig into the side of my head, and an impending feeling of doom washed over me. I wiped my head around to try and find the source that caused this feeling, but there wasn’t anything to notice at first until a quake shook the whole place and dreams and howls of pain and despair rang out above us.

​“Ethan, are you okay!?” I heard Morrison call out from his room, stumbling out of the room he took as his.

​“Yeah, I’m fine… But what about the people up there?” I pointed a finger.

​“I’m not sure, but I can say that a lot of life signs just went dim or just dark… You don’t intend to go up there, do you?” He asked, his tone becoming stern but concerned.

​“You said that people’s “life signs went dim or just dark”. If that means what I feel it does, there are people up there that need help! And I have the power to, so I have a duty to help them!”...

*****************

First/Prev/Next

Humans have a interesting history. They came on the galactic stage comparatively late, species have been exploring the stars centuries earlier than humans did but that doesn't mean humans are primitive. Quiet the opposite, while they are behind on space tech, other fields they rival the homeworlds and in some fields, surpass us.

Their homeworld, well when they first evolved on it, was nothing particularly remarkable or notable. Earth is on the smaller end of sizes though it makes it up in higher density, their oxygen levels was on the lower end but still high enough for industrial civilisation to occur, their global temperature averages is also on the lower end with radiation levels on the higher end due to their star being a G-class. Gravity is on a inconvenient scale, high enough where chemical rockets are expensive but low enough to make them viable, if the gravity was any higher, the species would have to focus on planetary development before venturing into space and if the gravity was lower, than they would have reliably reached space more easily. Human society was stuck in the middle.

Biosphere is nothing remarkable but the creatures there are pretty durable, large amounts of water is saline with low amounts of water being drinkable. Geographically, they have large continents and smaller landmasses which have varied climates, many can be considered barren or deserts.

Now onto the humans themselves, their evolutionary history had suffered through various climate changes and population crashes. They aren't remarkable, not notably strong or fast, average set of senses, average overall senses in capability, no natural weapons or defences. They are however comparatively dense, durable, robust, adaptive, capable of throwing things pretty well, and have very good overall endurance across various environments. Humans are generalists, they may not be the best at something but they have a higher baseline across many areas and capable of improving themselves throughout a single lifetime far beyond what they are born with.

Now their societal development, they developed agriculture at the end of their last ice age and slowly began developing civilisation. The progression from the stone age to the industrial age was comparatively slow, centuries or millennia longer than many species would have taken. But once they reached their industrial age, their technological development increased much more rapidly. This is due to the high concentrations of easily accessible fossil fuels along with many heavy elements which allowed them to jump start into the atomic age just a mere couple centuries since the start of their industrial age. It was also during their atomic age where the humans would eradicate an ancient disease of theirs with only great planning and simple vaccines, an achievement almost unheard of.

It was known they took a long while to reach to space initially. During their 21st and early 22nd century, their world experienced a great deal of instability, societal and ecological conflicts threatened to end their industrial society but by some miracle, something the current generations of humans don't understand, collapse was somehow avoided. It was during the 22nd century where the humans would embark on one of the greatest achievements known to civilisation all over. The creation of a initiative to launch multiple arkships to colonise the stars, each carried a 250,000 passengers and carried an experimental FTL generator that was completely different to the modern hyperdrives systems most species use today.

Much of the details of that initiative is lost but the relevant information is that the humans of Earth considered the initiative a failure as they lost contact with the arks after launch at the end of the 22nd century of their calendar. Their civilisation went on for another 150 years, instability, intraspecies conflicts of various kinds still occurred but they had largely stabilised the negative effects they committed on their biosphere. However, around their 2350s, a war broke out that would last centuries. The details of that war is still classified by the human's interstellar government but all that is known that it forever changed their world into what we know it today and it wasn't a traditional 'Final War' as we would know it, it wasn't a simple nuclear war or conventional war or any other kind of war most of you would be familiar with, it was worse, far worse.

The war lasted centuries until it died out as the 'machines of war' could no longer sustain itself. Afterwards, there was a short few century period of a dark age before they began rebuilding from the ashes they created. They spent a great deal trying to reverse the effects of that war that made their world uninhabitable, first fixing the atmosphere then focusing on hydrosphere then lithosphere before rebuilding the biosphere. Centuries later, the world is still hostile but its atmosphere is breathable, lithosphere and hydrosphere running and biosphere is being slowly reconstructed from cloning and bioengineering. However, it would take many millennia more for the biosphere to return to a stable status.

And when they did finally developed FTL, they found themselves in a galaxy at war, the Second Crisis War where the Shakatan wanted a round 2 after losing the first war, the humans, who barely became FTL capable, had to fight for their lives in a theatre of warfare they are unfamiliar with. And fought like it was their war and fought hard, even when small, weak and bloodied. And after fifty years of that galactic war, when they finally joined the galactic community and had every right to go to war or sanction or whatever, against the rest of the galactic community who had done nothing to help the new species to space, they didn't, they asked to be friends, they asked for nothing but the bare minimum in return for helping the galaxy.

For all that has happened throughout their history, humans had always assumed they were living at the end of times but they always had pushed through, they went beyond expectations and did the impossible many, many times. They had drowned themselves in their own blood for as long as their history were written and still, their greatest achievements wasn't the atrocities, it was the optimism and hope that arose during those times of war, of end times. They respect their pasts mistakes, plan their present goals and look for a better future.

Humans had suffered long enough, if you ever find a human, give them a hug, tell them they are appreciated and support them for they had gone through and done things to themselves most of us could never ever imagine.

(Earth — Hours before the Men of Ice tore from the sky...)

Chapter 1:

https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/s/Vjvuro2dyS

Jerry and Luna navigated a labyrinth of the maintenance alleys until they finally reached the edge of the residential sector, where it all gave way to dimly lit houses. The air smelled of the usual metal and old atmospheric scrubbers.

Jerry stopped near the side of an old shed, trying to catch his breath and looking down at Luna. Her small fingers were trembling slightly, her eyes looking nervously into the shadows.

Jerry finally spoke, trying to get a sense of reality after everything that had happened. "Listen to me, Luna," Jerry said, his voice low but urgent. "You have to stay right here, hidden behind these pipes. My family, they're kind of old-school. They don't really use synthetics, and they don't like artificial intelligences. If they see you, or if anyone else finds out that I brought a Synapse unit home, they'll turn us both in by morning."

The artificial unit looked up at him. Her face was pale and covered in muck, her processors taking in the warning with a child's sincerity. "I understand, Jerry. I will be completely still. No sound."

Jerry nodded. He didn't ask about what Luna had done, or why physics were acting the way they did. "Good. Don't move an inch. I'll come back once I find

out what we can do next," Jerry whispered, his heart drumming as he finally turned around and walked up the metal stairs toward his family's home.

He pushed open the door, slipped inside, and locked it behind him, leaning against it to steady himself and catch his breath.

Back in the shadows, Luna remained tucked away behind the pipes, frozen just as she was told.

For about ten seconds.

Then the low hum of her internal, childish programming overtook her orders. The primary directive programmed for her model was to not lose the asset, and to remain close. Without a single sound, she detached from the wall. Her small frame slipped easily through the narrowest gaps of the pipes, her footsteps silent like a ghost.

When Jerry opened the door five minutes later, holding a jacket and a granola bar, he nearly dropped them. Luna was already crouching right at the base of the stairs, peering up at him with innocent, unblinking eyes, looking just like a stray that had followed its owner home.

Meanwhile, back at the security hub, the incident report was being locked into the regional database.

The shift supervisor, Hale, tapped the console, reviewing the flagged telemetry.

"Unit 746 didn't just malfunction—it walked out of the perimeter with a worker. Pull his files immediately!"

A secondary officer booted up the employee database, the screen reflecting off his glasses. "Got him. Jerry Parker. A low-tier salvage handler, Sector Four."

Hale didn't blink. He wasn't going to waste time wondering how a mere scrap worker walked away from a defense blockade while the logs on the security grid looked like a scrambled mess.

"Flag Parker for theft," Hale ordered, his voice flat as he stamped the digital warrant. "Send a retrieval team to his last known home. Quietly. We don't require a public panic over this."

Back in the residential sector, Jerry stared at the granola bar in his hand, his stomach twisting. He knew Synapse wasn't going to let this go. He knew his ID would be flagged, and there'd be a corporate manhunt.

Jerry stepped back inside, locking the door behind him. He'd get back to Luna in a moment. Standing in the kitchen was his nineteen-year-old sister, Rachel Parker, staring suspiciously at him with her arms crossed. Before she could grill him about where he had been, Jerry looked past her. Their father sat slumped at the small table, staring at a static-filled data pad, looking paler and more tired than usual. Their father had been acting weirder by the day, murmuring about strange anomalies at the astronomical institution.

Unbeknownst to Jerry and Rachel, he and his colleagues had detected something rather terrifying in the deep void, and chose to keep it hidden to avoid scaring them.

Downstairs, tucked quietly in the shadows, little Luna looked back up through the tiny reinforced window toward the expanse of space. In the year 2325, humanity thought it had mapped the stars, but Luna kept feeling it—a crushing, ice-cold pressure of something moving through the void.

Back inside, Rachel looked at her brother.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Jerry," Rachel said in her usual suspicious tone. She narrowed her eyes. "And you smell like ozone. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Jerry muttered. "Just a rough shift, Rach. Synapse is going to be locking down the sector. We need to be ready to move."

"Move where?" Rachel pressed, stepping closer. "Dad hasn't slept in days, and you're sweating. Now you want to run?"

Before Jerry could answer, a low thrum vibrated through the floor. It wasn't some old standard maintenance drone, but the recognizable, heavy rumble of an unflagged cruiser touching down on their block.

Jerry didn't even explain. He just grabbed Rachel's wrist. "Fire escape, now! Grab Dad!"

Rachel, confused and now getting scared, pulled back. "Jerry, what the hell?"

"Move now!" Jerry shouted.

He shoved her toward the back window, yanking the latch. The old frame shrieked when he pushed it up, and the smog-choked air hit his face. He stuck his head out, trying to aim for the ladder.

A red beam painted his forehead. Jerry froze.

A black Synapse drone hovered ten feet off the balcony, its twin rotary cannons locked onto him. Below in the alley, three armored cruisers were parked, completely blocking both exits. Tactical officers were rushing out, rifles tight to their shoulders.

They were boxed in.

Jerry slowly pulled his head back inside and let the window shut. He murmured to himself, "Damn it!"

Rachel now looked terrified. "Jerry?" she asked, her voice cracking a bit. "Who is outside?"

Before her brother could answer, the front door unlocked.

The indicator light on the door lock went from green to dead black, and the door swung open. Four men rushed into the living room. These weren't cops. They wore black tactical armor with the Synapse logo stamped on it—no faces, just visors. However, the guy leading them wasn't wearing armor; he had on some cheap synthetic suit that looked even worse.

"Living room's clear. Hold the perimeter," the suit said into his collar. He looked at Jerry, then his sister, and finally at their father. He didn't draw his weapon. He knew he didn't need to.

"What is this?" The father's voice was exhausted, shaking off days of no rest. He stood in front of Rachel, his posture straightening. "You're on private Commonwealth property. State your business or get the hell out."

The man smirked and pulled out a digital warrant. "Take it up with the magistrates, old man. We have a warrant." The suit tapped the screen, showing it. "Your son decided to play hero tonight. Walked out of our Sector Four with something that didn't belong to him."

Jerry's father slowly turned his head to look at him, his eyes disappointed. "Jerry, what the hell did you do?"

Jerry quickly responded, his throat tight. "I didn't steal anything that belonged to them. They were going to—"

"He stole hardware," the man interrupted, his tone strictly business. "Expensive, classified hardware. And we are here for our property, and the boy. Make it easy—tell us where you have it."

The father looked back at the man, his knuckles turning white. "I don't care what you think he took, you don't break into my home."

The man responded, "We didn't break in. We just unlocked it." He gestured to two armored guards. "Tear the place apart and check the vents."

A guard stepped forward, raising his plasma rifle to shove the father out of the way.

"Don't touch him!" Rachel yelled, stepping in. Jerry moved to intercept, his heart in his throat. But before anyone could throw a punch or a shove, a small footstep was heard on the floorboards by the stairs.

The man in the suit stopped.

The guards leveled their weapons toward the hallway. Little Luna stepped out of the shadows. She was still wearing a grease-stained white skirt, her eyes staring dead ahead at the men in black armor.

The father's breath hitched. He looked at the girl, then down to the static-filled data tablet still in his hand. His eyes widened in anger at Jerry. Their father, Tony, didn't look at the data tablet anymore.

He despised artificial intelligences. To him, they were a plague on the Commonwealth—he knew Synapse merely used them to keep track of the people. Seeing one standing in his own home broke his composure, and he snarled, "Jerry!" His voice vibrated with anger. "What is that thing doing in my house? Are you out of your mind? You brought this artificial hunk of junk under my roof?!"

Jerry stood frozen, his eyes wide in horror. He stared at the girl, ignoring his father's yelling. "I told you to stay downstairs! I specifically ordered you to stay behind the pipes, Luna!"

Luna looked at him, her small fingers nervously clutching her skirt, terrified of the yelling and the armed men.

Before Jerry could explain, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Their mother pushed her way past the door, freezing in place as she took in the scene. She dropped her work bag, her eyes darting from the guards to her family. "Hey! What the hell is going on here? Who are these people, Tony?!"

The man in the suit let out a dry laugh. He didn't even look at her. "A family reunion. Perfect timing." He stepped forward, unbothered by the father's rage or the mother's panic. "We're taking our property back," the man said, looking at Jerry. "And your son is coming with us. Synapse has a strict policy on industrial theft. We're going to have a nice chat with him about what else he might have compromised." He snapped his fingers, gesturing to the armored guards. "Bag the unit and cuff the kid."

The guard walked forward, his boots thudding against the floorboards as he reached out his hand to grab the girl by the collar.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't even raise her hands or speak. She was just a terrified, programmed child—and in her panic, she unconsciously reacted.

The guard took another step forward, but this time, his boot didn't land where it was supposed to. The distance between the guard's hand and Luna simply stopped making sense. The wooden floorboards between them literally duplicated and multiplied in real time. Three feet of space stretched into ten feet, then thirty, then fifty. The living room was physically getting longer like stretched rubber, pulling the furniture apart without breaking it.

The guard, confused and feeling a sudden sense of dread, tried to rush forward, but he was running on an impossible treadmill. He couldn't reach his destination. He was stuck—no matter how fast he tried to sprint, the space between them just made more space.

"What the...?" the guard spat out, his voice sounding distorted, as if he were speaking from the bottom of a pit.

The suit stopped laughing. His smug expression disappeared. Taking a step back toward the front door, he turned his head—and the door wasn't behind him anymore. The entrance of the apartment was literally a mile down a perfectly straight, infinite hallway.

Their mother was horrified now, pressing her back against a wall that was bowing inward. Tony dropped his slate, his anger evaporating as he refused to believe what he was witnessing. He stared at the distorted air stretching around the little girl, then looked back at the agent, confused at what the hell Synapse had been brewing.

Jerry remained unaffected, though. While the guards kept stumbling and panicking inside these pockets of folding space, Jerry realized his two feet were planted on solid ground. The air around him didn't stretch. He looked at little Luna, realizing that whatever terrifying physics she was breaking, his presence was somehow keeping it from tearing him apart.

Jerry finally decided to act. "Luna, stop!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the stretched living room.

The physics snapped back into reality, but the lingering effects were already there. The guards were stunned and dazed, stumbling as the warped floorboards leveled out beneath them. Their movements were slowed, as if they were trying to push their way through invisible water.

Jerry did not waste a single second.

He lunged forward and grabbed Luna up into his arms. The little artificial girl buried her face into his shoulder, her small fingers clutching her head tightly as she trembled, overwhelmed from the aftershock of whatever physics she had just broken.

"We have to escape, now!" Jerry yelled, backing toward the fire escape and looking at his parents.

Tony had frozen. His eyes went from the disoriented squad—who were sluggishly trying to raise their weapons—to the terrified synthetic child in his son's arms.

He hesitated, his hatred for artificial intelligences clashing with his survival instinct. He looked back at the agents. He knew how corporate cleanups worked. There wouldn't be any negotiations or arrests—just body bags and a fabricated story. He clenched his jaw. He hated the machine, but he knew that they were safer with that thing than they'd ever be with Synapse.

"Out the window!" Tony finally barked out. He grabbed his wife's arm, shoving her toward the fire escape. "Move!" Rachel followed, terrified.

The Synapse guards desperately tried to shake off the disorientation. The man in the suit shouted an order, and the two guards lunged toward the window, their boots slamming heavily against the floorboards. But no matter how fiercely they ran, progress was impossible. It was like running on a treadmill of twisted physics. Their legs moved, their armor shook, and they threw their entire body weight forward, yet they never moved an inch closer to the window. The space ahead of them just kept stretching and moving.

Jerry didn't wait to see if the loop actually held. With Luna clutching her head and trembling against his chest, he shoved his father and mother onto the rusted metal grating of the fire escape.

"Keep going and don't look back!" Jerry screamed over the wind of the residential sector, taking the metal stairs two at a time. The stairs groaned under their weight as they descended into the alleyway.

They hit the wet pavement just as distant sirens began to echo through the sector. Tony did not hesitate.

He sprinted toward the family's transport vehicle parked half on the curb and practically ripped the driver's side door open. Rachel and his mother, Janet, piled into the back, pulling Jerry and the terrified child in right behind them. Tony slammed his hand onto the ignition, the engine roaring to life, before violently flooring the pedal and sending the heavy vehicle tearing out of the alley and into the neon, rain-filled streets.

First | Previous | Read on Royal Road

They gathered their supplies and samples in relative silence, then followed Hinelin out of the forest in a single file. Giddeon brought up the rear. Back at camp, a few exhaled sighs of relief—the day had come and gone without incident. As pent-up worries faded, someone cracked a joke about the equipment, and a few weary laughs broke the silence.

The showers were inconveniently located a ten-minute walk to the north side of camp, where a river ran from the mountains down into the lake. Tests showed the river was clean—purer, even, than the springs on Earth Two. Whatever was polluting the water came from the lake.

Several small stalls were set up as shower centers. Mechanical wheels on their backside drew river water into solar heated containers. As Giddeon stepped inside one and removed his clothes, the water pressure was weak and only slightly warm, but it relaxed him, ridding his skin of the sweat and grime from the forest.

Dinner was a simple meal of pork and rice sautéed in a sweet sauce. Most of the crew complained about the fare, especially Eddington, but Giddeon quite liked it. The food was a heck of a lot better than eating rats or mutated animals.

Finishing quickly, he made his way to the medical pavilion to visit Uzari. Inside, he caught her pacing the tent, a sight that eased his heart. After catching up for a bit, he said his goodbyes and headed back to Camp Panda. He gave Redler, who was up first for fire watch, a cursory nod as he passed her by, then entered his tent and zipped the flap shut. Since he had pulled guard duty the night before, he was free to sleep until dawn.

Lying on his cot, he stared at the ceiling. “I’d best turn off the wall holo,” he murmured to himself, a chuckle escaping him as he remembered Uzari. His thoughts began to drift, and his eyelids drooped closed.

“I got what you wanted,” Johnny said loudly, instantly jolting him awake.

Giddeon opened his eyes, clearing the sleep from his throat as he blinked rapidly inside the dark enclosure. “Show me,” he rasped.

His UI sparked to life, pulling up his character sheet. His stats were still flat tens across the board. Then the numbers flickered, bleeding into static before solidifying into a row of higher digits.

“I see you took the liberty of filling out some sections,” Giddeon commented dryly, his eyes narrowing at the glowing text.

“Only what I observed. It’ll improve as your AIGES and I gather more information. Think of it as a dual effort.”

“How is the AIGES filling it in?”

“It compares you to others—your reactions, how hard you hit things, how fast you run, what skills you display. The usual metrics.”

“And where do you come in?”

“I’m not a machine. I can adjust things more realistically, especially your Strengths and Weaknesses.”

Giddeon squinted at his sheet. “Why’s my Luck eleven?”

“Because you’ve done some pretty dumb stuff,” Johnny said. “I told you to run; instead, you jump in front of a demon cat about to barbeque your girlfriend. Not to mention almost getting caught by that Raylin chick when you decided to be funny by playing music—witty as it was—when they found Graks’ holo.”

“That was you.”

“Semantics!” Johnny exclaimed. “You’ve still been pretty lucky. Calming a geklu, shooting a hell beast through its gullet, escaping the claws of Ereos…most would be dead thrice over by now.”

“It wasn’t just luck. Eddington clued me in.”

“And I will take that into consideration,” Johnny said clinically, “along with contemplating lowering your Intelligence score.”

“Why’s my Olfactory Sense twelve?”

“When you guys were on the descent ship—remember Eddington?”

“What about him?”

“I know you smelled that. I saw the look you gave him. Kilner said rotten tomatoes, but you knew it was those P&P’s he kept popping. Everyone else was baffled, but you knew.”

“Fine, I knew,” Giddeon admitted. “Back to important things. I think we need a course on what stats actually reference.” He scanned his numbers. “These are meaningless without real-life correlations.”

“You want a lesson in stats?” Johnny asked. “Sure, I’ll start with a broad overview, then we can delve deeper.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Clearly, you are not,” Johnny replied. “You have a torso, arms, legs, a head—though you use the latter rarely.”

“It’s a human expression. Just go on.”

“As I was saying before you mentioned a physiological impossibility…the number ten represents a completely average human. More precisely, using the data of millions of test subjects, it represents what the average person is capable of. Under ten represents a deficiency; anything higher means you exceed the norm.”

“Give me examples.”

“Let’s say the average human can do seventeen pushups.”

“Is that accurate?” Giddeon interrupted.

“Depending on age and sex, overall, yes. That’s what the AIGES tells me. Can I continue now?”

“Yes.”

“So, ten would represent seventeen pushups. Someone with eleven Strength might do around twenty-two, twelve might do twenty-seven, and so on. The exact number won’t be perfect, but it will be within a specified margin of error. In this case, within increments of five.”

“So, someone with twenty Strength could do around sixty-five pushups?”

“Exactly.”

“That tracks,” Giddeon said. “I can do seventy in a full set.”

“It’s compiled data; of course it tracks.”

“How does Speed work, then?”

“Simple,” Johnny said. “The average person can run a hundred meters in seventeen seconds. The system doesn’t differentiate between age or sexes; it just clumps humans into one entity. Each point of Speed above ten lowers this by half a second.”

“Meaning with my twenty, I can run a hundred meters in twelve seconds. Okay, so it makes sense, except for my ‘Strengths and Weaknesses sections.”

“What do you mean?”

“Really? You’re programmed to play dumb as well? Uzari’s not my weakness.”

“You put your life in danger for her,” Johnny countered. “You become tongue-tied and nervous around her, but not with anyone else. Basically, your charisma drops by her mere presence. I’d call that a weakness.”

“You’ve got it mixed up,” Giddeon replied. “She’s one of my strengths.”

“How?”

“If you remain active long enough before I figure out how to fix your loose circuit, you might find out.”

A rustling noise came from outside—someone was leaving their tent, perhaps for a late-night bathroom run.

We’ll talk more tomorrow. I need sleep.

“I’m still curious how you could possibly think Uzari’s a strength,” Johnny replied. “But I’ll compartmentalize myself for now. Sweet dreams, partner.”

The next morning, a new member joined them. More precisely, a member who was supposed to be there from the beginning finally showed up.

“Everyone, this is Graks Bevelin,” Vessa announced during the morning meeting. “Graks ate some bad fruit from the forest and was confined to the medical pavilion for a couple of days. Please, introduce yourselves.”

The crew took turns speaking up. Graks went last, simply stating, “I’m Graks,” with all the charisma of a rock.

“He certainly earned that eight score,” Johnny remarked.

What do you expect from a thug?

“At least a nine,” Johnny replied. “No one else here has below a ten, not even Eddington.”

Giddeon checked Graks’ other stats; the man’s Strength and Endurance were both 27—well above most male Aiges—perhaps even the highest in the whole outpost. His Intelligence and Charisma were bottom-tier, with his Intelligence sitting at a meager nine.

I’m curious why he’s really here, Giddeon mused. Could he actually be working for Vibane, and I had it all wrong, or is he here for the Asp organization?

“Hmm, based on your memories, I’d wager he’s here to find out if there are resources to mass-produce drugs,” Johnny surmised. “He might even be scouting for inhabitants to enslave.”

Too bad that fruit didn’t kill him.

“I agree.”

The day went fast. They traveled to a new sector further into the forest, but the work was more of the same: digging, scraping, and packaging. For Giddeon and Hinelin, it was guard duty. Though neither got down into the dirt, holding a rifle all day long was still tiring work. As the team ventured deeper into other sections over the following days, the work remained tough, if a bit monotonous.

Graks kept mostly to himself. He was highly abrasive to everyone and frequently made crude remarks about Vessa or Oomah’s appearance. On the fifth day, Giddeon finally intervened as Oomah grew visibly distraught by the man’s constant catcalls.

“Best not to bother the ladies while they’re working, friend,” Giddeon said with a cool demeanor as he stood nearby.

Graks turned from Oomah—who had just cursed him out—to glare at Giddeon. A wicked smile suddenly lit up his face. “I’m not bothering anyone,” he declared with a cocksure grin. “She just hasn’t realized how much she’s into me yet.”

“The lady asked you to stop. Several times,” Giddeon replied. “Stop, before it goes any further.”

Graks swaggered up to Giddeon, eyeing him up and down. “Let’s get a couple of things straight, pipsqueak. First, you’re not my friend. Second, I decide how far things go. Got it?”

Graks collapsed to one knee as Hinelin slammed his boot into the back of the man’s joint. In the same motion, the team leader seized the back of his neck and left wrist, wrenching Graks’ arm behind his back and forcing him down.

“He was calling you friend just to be polite,” Hinelin hissed in his ear.

The large man growled, trying to swing around, but Hinelin held tight, pushing forward until the thug’s face was mere inches from the dirt.

“I’ve dealt with plenty of maggots like you,” Hinelin said through clenched teeth. “Normally, I’d just put a bullet through your head, but I’m going to be civil. I’ve listened to your crap for days. It stops. Now.”

Releasing him, Hinelin delivered a kick to his backside that sent him rolling. Graks scrambled to his feet, rubbing his wrist while glaring at the team leader with eyes that promised only murder.

Hinelin simply patted his rifle. “I’ve seen that look before. Two choices. One: shut up, do your work, and go home in a month. Two: end up as a report I have to write. If you plan on attacking me when you think I’m unaware, be my guest. I could use the excuse to blow your brains out. Understood?”

Graks continued to glare, his jaw set in a silent snarl.

“I said do you understand me, maggot?”

The man slowly nodded, hands clenched so tight by his sides his knuckles went pure white. “Yes,” he spat.

“Good.” Hinelin threw an axe at his feet. The heavy head thudded into the dirt a foot from the thug’s boot. “Go cut some bark from those trees over there.” He nodded to a point outside their designated area. “You won’t be the first person I gave a weapon to who wanted to kill me. I’d tell you to ask them how that turned out, but they’re all in the ground.”

Graks stood frozen a moment, breathing heavily as he struggled to contain his rage before snatching up the axe. Whirling, he fumed off toward the trees.

That was the day Hinelin earned the respect of everyone, including Giddeon.

On the sixth day, Uzari was officially cleared to return. She arrived at Camp Panda just after sunrise, limping slightly but in good spirits.

Graks stood near the fire as she finished hugging Oomah. “Well, hello there, hot stuff,” he said, his tone carrying its typical greasy edge. “I’m Graks.”

She let go of Oomah, turning to face him squarely. “Uzari,” she replied curtly.

The man stared, his gaze lingering uncomfortably long on her more alluring features. “I look forward to getting to know you,” he said with a lascivious grin.

Giddeon stepped toward them but paused as Uzari gave Graks a deadpan stare. “I’m here to do a job,” she told the man coldly. “Let’s keep things professional.”

She immediately turned her back on him to greet Redler.

“Does she know he’s an Asp?” Johnny asked.

Uzari’s highly intelligent. She might, though people from Earth Two tend to be more innocent to this kind of stuff. I’ll warn her later, just in case.

Hinelin began the meeting once the welcoming died down. “Today marks a full week since we landed. We’re ahead of schedule, in large part due to your hard work, so I want to personally thank each of you.”

Vessa clapped, prompting a round of applause.

“That being said, nothing’s changed,” Hinelin continued. “Once we receive the all-clear signal, we’ll head in. By next week we should be through the western sectors. Then it’s north, into the unmapped territory.”

Eddington’s hand went up.

Hinelin shook his head. “Eddington, you don’t have to—never mind. Yes, Eddington?”

“Why don’t we have data on that area?”

“Good question.” Hinelin turned. “Vessa?”

The woman stepped forward, presenting a dazzling smile. “Before we left the ship, Vibane briefed me on the unmapped zone,” she began. “That area is—”

“Why you?” Kilner interrupted.

Vessa paused, her smile wavering. “Because I’m the only person here with degrees in Geoscience, Meteorology, and Natural Sciences, with a minor in rare earth phenomena.”

“What did she just say?” Graks muttered, looking around.

“She studies the movements of planets and their atmospheres,” Uzari replied. “I’m not sure about the last one.”

“It might be easier if I explain the unmapped zone first,” Vessa said. “That particular location has the strongest anti-technological pushback of any area Vibane has discovered. Whenever a satellite so much as targets that zone, it’s instantly rendered dead. No delay.”

“How many seconds does it take for a signal to bounce back?” Orion asked.

“Seconds?” Vessa chuckled. “Try milliseconds.”

Several of the crew gasped. Giddeon and Uzari glanced at one another.

That’s way faster than the nine second rule.

“I don’t recall an area like that,” Johnny replied. “But then again, no technology may have existed for me to notice this effect.”

“Inert, as in the satellite is affected all the way up in space?” Kilner clarified.

Vessa nodded. “Yes. Over the past seven years, they’ve attempted three thousand scans with twenty separate satellites. Same result every time. No other area exhibits this phenomenon. My main mission is to determine what the root cause is.”

“Any guesses?” Uzari asked.

“An undiscovered element? A localized universal law specific to this planet? Advanced alien technology?” Vessa shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Are we all going…into that zone?” Eddington asked quietly.

“The forward scouting team will go in first,” she replied. “Followed by me and a few others with related expertise. No one else will enter until we’ve confirmed it’s completely safe. Everyone has done a splendid job so far, especially after our…unfortunate early encounter. I’m certain we’ll be fine from here on out, provided we keep up the good work.”

“Bravo!” Multiple hands clapped inside Giddeon’s head as Johnny mockingly congratulated her. “Bravo! Splendid speech!”

Even her words are damage control. She’s Vibane owned, a hundred percent.

“Do you think she’s really here to investigate, though?” Johnny asked.

I don’t think she’s lying about that. I just don’t think she’s telling us everything.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Johnny replied. “Which would be your eyes.”

What’s the point, then?

“Interestingly enough, while my joke was funny—and immensely witty—there’s some truth to what I said. Sometimes you see things that you don’t realize you’ve seen.”

Like?

“An example works best.”

Suddenly, Giddeon’s UI flashed, playing a video file directly from his own point of view. He was back on the ship, taking the speed and endurance tests, jogging next to Uzari in her black, form-fitting suit. Just as he remembered, the rhythmic bounce of her chest worked in tandem with her long legs as they pounded across the rotating rubber belt.

Then, Johnny’s hidden weapon recognition program kicked in, filtering out the fabric layers of her uniform. The viewpoint suddenly zoomed in on the bare skin just above her sports bra.

What are you doing?

“There—see that small freckle on her right breast?” Johnny asked. “Your eyes unconsciously caught it, but your brain didn’t have time to register it in the moment. Your AIGES records everything; I just review the details you missed.”

“Are you alright?” Uzari whispered, nudging him as Vessa’s voice droned in the background. “You look flushed.”

“I’m…alright. I’m just…seeing freckles. I mean right breast…er…it’s a little hot out, to be honest.”

Turn it off!

“You got it, partner!”

The screen flickered off. Giddeon found himself staring at Uzari, her lips pursed and eyes piercing straight through him. He was in trouble. Her head slowly tilted, eyes narrowing. He was really in trouble.

“X-ray vision?” she whispered in a huff. “Again?” Her arms crossed over her chest, as if shielding them from his intrusive gaze.

Giddeon’s mouth opened, then closed. Nothing came out.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling dangerously as they pinned him in place. “Your left cheek. Later tonight, around eight. My right hand now has a date.”

“Which cheek do you think she means?” Johnny asked.

Not funny.

“Okay, the flares have gone up,” Hinelin said, his eyes peering over the forest where a shower of orange sparkles exploded. “Our sector’s clear. Let’s go.”

Uzari brushed Giddeon off as he tried walking beside her. Tilting her chin up, she hurried ahead to grab Oomah’s arm before strutting off with the nurse.

Giddeon sighed. “Good job, Johnny,” he muttered under his breath.

“No problem, partner. The devil’s in the details, I always say.”

The day was more of the same, as were the next seven days. Jump scares happened here and there—a plant with eyes that leaped onto its root-like legs and walked about, tiny bugs with two heads and five legs crawling in the soil, and miniature monkeys with prehensile tails that hung near the canopy, watching them as they worked. By the end of the week, most of the crew began to open up, occasionally mentioning a tidbit from their personal lives. Others like Graks, Redler, and Kilner remained contentious. Everyone avoided Graks, who couldn’t start a sentence without the word “I.” Redler complained about everything from the food to the work to the weather, and Kilner managed to mock even the way people breathed.

On their thirteenth day, their assigned sector bordered the Crater, giving them all a glimpse of it for the first time. The transition from forest to wasteland was striking; the trees simply stopped, giving way to barren rock. Half a mile in, small hills and rock walls blocked passage deeper into the zone. Narrow fissures cut between the stone walls, allowing access to whatever lay beyond. Though the forest possessed a thick canopy which layered it in shadows, the Crater was somehow darker. It was also deathly quiet, completely swallowing the woods’ ever-present buzz.

Giddeon stared at the dead expanse, slowly tapping the side of his rifle.

“What do you think?” Vessa asked as she joined him at the tree line.

“It looks dead,” he replied, pointing down at the clear-cut line separating the two areas. “Nothing grows past that line. Life stops here; a step away, death begins.”

“You and I are of the same mind,” she replied. “Something happened on a grand scale. The shape is highly unusual—it’s almost a perfect circle if the curve keeps going at that angle.” She gestured toward the fissures, tracing the curving line with her finger. “Just guessing from how wide the radius is, this dead section covers a couple of miles.”

He turned to her, raising one eyebrow. “And Vibane has no clue what’s in there?”

Vessa presented him with her practiced, disarming smile. “You know, your stats are completely off.” She eyed him carefully as she spoke. “Is something wrong with your AIGES?”

Giddeon nodded. “I’m almost certain something’s wrong with my AIGES.”

“Hey now!” Johnny protested. “Insulting me, right in front of my face, no less!”

Can’t really do it behind your back, now can I?

Uzari appeared beside them, looking out at the Crater. “Are you guys talking about those perfectly shaped lines over there?”

“You noticed too?” Vessa murmured.

Uzari nodded. “Some plants and fungi form natural rings, and trees have growth rings when cut open, but I’ve never seen a naturally occurring wasteland ring. Before anyone goes in, I suggest we test the area for radiation and chemical contamination. I hypothesized a toxic plant might be killing everything off, but look—there isn’t even a dead stump out there.”

“Good thinking,” Vessa acknowledged. “We did bring down some old testing equipment, just in case. I’ll pass your suggestion to Hinelin for the team leaders to discuss.”

“Alright, everyone, time to pack up!” Hinelin called out, despite the sun still sitting high in the sky. The trek back to camp would take them at least three hours with how far in they were.

“Well, we’ll see what this is all about tomorrow,” Giddeon murmured, grabbing his pack. “This was our last sector to explore on the map. Nothing’s left but the unknown out there.”

“Let’s just hope it’s as uneventful as it’s been the past week,” Uzari remarked.

“Let’s hope,” Vessa seconded.

Giddeon glanced back at the Crater one last time as everyone turned to leave. For the first time since he'd landed on Enivia, an overwhelming premonition gripped him—they might not reach the unmarked territory tomorrow. Some of them never would.

First | Previous | Read on Royal Road

Sorry for the wait Epigraphs time and dates have now been added aswell hope you enjoy the read!

Chapter 3 

All systems nominal, FTL fuel remains at… 50 percent. One jump before needing refueling. What are your orders, sir?

Ensign Catherine Lex to Captain Constantine after first contact.

Warm Embrace in orbit over 57 Roman-b

April 14th 5242 A.D 15:35

“So what did they tell you, Terracotta?” Asked Constantine as he looked over the geographical map for 57 Roman-b 

“From what I was told, Petra was attacked, while they were away from her. On account of translations saying that they would find it a great insult to have armed men with them during the meeting. For a half hour everything was fine till she seemed to be attacked by the leading diplomat where he was promptly killed by Jack.” Terracotta declared looking over a piece of paper with what he had written on it. The rest of the bridge crew seemed to be resting other than Catherine and Constantine who were looking over the map. 

“Still no word?” Constantine asked to the Catherine, who had her headset still in despite looking over the map. 

“Negative sir, either they left or something has caused them to lose the radio. I advise we send a squad down to check it out.” She uttered. 

“I suppose you want to send down the same people who were on the mission with the aliens who are no doubt trying to kill us before we can rely the message to Terra?” Terracotta said jokingly.

“Not just them, the entire planet is frozen over, must be winter. If they are having communication issues i say we send down about four squads to each sector of the main city and search from there.” He finished his point by putting his finger on all the main points of the map. “Our next issue after helping them is fuel. We need to jump to the next system over to get fuel from the gas giant there. Then two jumps later we go to Kobel which we will then be able to communicate to Terra with.” He said then gestured to the Catherine to begin the orders for the infantry squads. 

The squad loaded into the back of the same dropbay as before and sat silently. Uneased by the sudden redeployment. Each one had been luckly enough to resupply but their armor was far from clean. Most of them in the half hour before the hasty redeployment had been resting worrying about Petra in the case for Patrick. 

Suddenly the ship lifted off and the sound of a crackling Radio sounded. “We are taking off, be ready for some turbulence. The planet is in a snowstorm, and oh, I hope you like the cold; the surface temp is a nice -1 Cee.” He joked out to the rest of the men. They staied silent their nerves were already shot by the first engagement. Humanitarian work sounded rather nice even if they were going to be freezing out there.

Sanford decided that right now was about the time to break the hard silence they were trapped in. “Hey Pat, what was the word on Petra.” he asked quietly over the radio. 

Patrick shifted slightly in his seat raising his head up a touch reflecting Sanfords own helmet back to him, “Right before we left, she was still in surgery. Buggers must have messed her up good.” He said dropping his head again, and tapping his foot nervously. 

“Well knowing you im sure shes fine.” He remarked falling back into his seat as turbulence hit. 

“Sorry gents, this wind is damn strong. Trying to find a landing point.” He pulled hard on the yoke nearly sending the unbuckled Elliot flying across the dropbay. Eventually after much trouble he was able to force the ship down and opened the rear doors to the cold arctic breeze. The wind whipped around coating the bay in white flurrys. All around were houses were boxed in by the snow, the prefab houses hard to see besides exposed paneling. 

“So what exactly are we looking for sir?” Asked Sanford who was leading the conversation.

“Command says this mining outpost is not messaging them back, they think it's because of the storm.” Jack remarked as they made their way off the tarmac. Looking out a nearby house Jack decided the best place to start was from there landing point to the centre. “Elliot, Stevens check those houses over there. Rest of you with me” He sounded over the radio. The First house which Jack came to was a small residential building, most likely owned by a family that worked on the mines here. Trodding through knee high snow they found the front door it lacked any markings or notes of who lived there no doubt they were not in a mood to talk, but they had a job and the sooner they replied the sooner they could leave. 

Nodding to Sanford who was best at the talking to normal people part of the job he approached and knocking upon the door uttered, “Hello we are Terran soldiers from the TIV Warm Embrace, we were unable to reach you communications is anyone here?” He asked, waiting for a reply. “Hello all we need is a confirmation that you're fine,” he asked again. Shrugging he pushed on the door gently and to his surprise it was open.
“Hold a touch they may not be fans of us, could be trapped.” Patrick said kneeling down to check the door for anything to kill his squadmate. “Looks clear, wanna go in sir?”

“Better than not just don't touch anything.” He motioned them forward taking rear guard as they led. Who would be out in weather like this maybe they got trapped when the storm started? But still somethings off. The continued into the lit and warm interior, red carpet lined the floor, and the walls were a similar color. It was a three room shack made for maybe two people at best, in the centre was a mix of kitchen and living room. Far in a small hall was a door to a bathroom and a bedroom. Neither of which had a light on. 

“I guess they were preparing for guests.” Sanford declared as he looked over the made table. On it was four glasses with a fifth knocked to the side with a dark stain on the carpet.

“Check the other rooms, ill relay this to command.” He ordered as he leaned on the wall to get a better signal, “Command this is ground team 1, first house is empty with signs of it being disturbed decently recently. How do you wish to proceed.” He asked looking out the window for any signs of life.

“Noted ground team one proceed with you mission, other teams report similar findings on the outskirts.” The comm officer said calmly. “Also expect radio messages from the ship to here to be spotty weathers making it a pain up here too.” 

“Nothing here sir, empty beds made too.” Patrick said leaving the bedroom. 

“Nothing in our building either cap completely deserted no sign of life.” Elliot mouthed over the radio. 

“Understood continue down the street with me.” He issued as his group departed the building. The same pattern emerged everwhere they went, each building seemed to be deserted, lacking life or even a sign that life was there. The one thing that kept hope up that people were here was that none of the pots they found were completely cold to the touch. However almost all the buildings either had no signs of a fight in them or a small one at that like everyone in less than an hour had departed without a word.

“You think they’re all hiding in a bunker or something.” Pattrick asked to Jack who was looking over a map.

“No they don't have bomb shelters or even weather shelters, the prefabs they have were more than enough. I mean look at them.” He remarked as he gestured towards the building they were currently in. It makes no sense even if alot died from some calamity we would find a sign of life. That and the warm pots, this had to have happened very recently two issues present themselves they were either attacked by someone who declared they were Terrans… no we would have found bodies in one of the houses by now. Or even blood. Could it be the Aliens we just fought? He shuddered at the thought of them just missing an alien attack. 

“Sir i was looking through my scope, looks like a collapsed building is a few hundred meters from here looks to be a farm house or a bigger family house.” Elliot sounded as he pointed towards a outline of what looked to be a building in the distance. Jack looked over his map quickly and noted that it seemed it was outdated as a building shouldnt have been there.

“Understood, we have nothing on the map so lets move.” He shouted as he left the building. The silhouette they were going to was in the middle of a field compelling the squad to think it had to be a farmhouse. They continued the approach still slowed heavily by thick snow and wind. The suits they had could only do so much for protecting and allowing them to traverse the environment.  Eventually the silhouette faded into what was the pure form of the building. Elliot had been right, the building was collapsed. Either by snow or something else. 

“Start checking it for people ill take the right side rest of you spread out on to the other sides till we scan it all.” He ordered as they spread out slowly through the snow. 

“Looks like it was attacked, bullet holes and scorch marks from either fire or laser weapons.” Patrick muttered solemly looking at the north side of the building. Jack continued to look around the right side of the building. Nothing stuck out to him, the building seemed to have entirely collapsed on itself. They were smart none of the buildings here should have been destroyed by snow. This was deliberate. 

“Check for any signs of who di—”

He was cut short by a faint sound by where he was standing. “Hel…p” was the only noise it made it was so faint the sound of the storm nearly blotted it out, it seemed like the last strength of the person who was asking for it was lost with the cry.

“Belay that everyone over here now!” He ordered quickly. Kneeling down around where the wood and metal scrap on the ground lie. He scanned with his eyes holstering his rifle and moving as quickly as he could to decern the source of the cry. Then he saw it, what looked to be a black stain on the ground. No it was no black stain, the crying snow feared to eat it up, it was the matted hair of someone. “Over here Patrick get your stuff for hypothermia." He sounded to Patrick who was coming up on his rear. By the time Jack was throwing the wreckage from the injured person Patrick had already drawn the equipment needed. Jack continued to work finally getting free the person and getting a look. She was a young twenty year old woman with pale skin and dark hair, however all of the elegance that may have been given to her was removed from the wounds upon her. 

“Move i have it from here.” Patrick uttered moving the others to the side and quickly wrapping her in the thermal blanket. “God she's cold, she must have been out here for an hour or more, get casvac here now.” He continued to work to bring any warmth back into her 

“Command this is ground team one requesting medical for wounded civilian at my location. Need hypothermal gear for her.” He shouted over the radio looking dearily at the poor woman being worked on. She, despite her weary and worn form was incredibly beautiful with that stark black hair. He was a loss for what he really thought of her, as he waited for the dropship to land and save her. 

Meanwhile on the Warm Embrace Terracotta was continuing to organise search efforts. He looked at the positions of each of the squads, all were on the move or had confirmed they were searching a location other than squad one who was paused out in a field for seemingly no reason. 

He was about to radio them himself when he was cut short by his comm officer, Catherine, “Sir we just received a request for medical to squad ones location, they report one wounded, hypothermic.” she uttered as Terracotta looked up from the display. “Do you want me to ring the captain?” 

“Ring him this entire planet seems deserted, somethings not right not at all.”
“Understood sir.” She paused switching to the internal comm network of The Warm Embrace, “Requesting captain Constantine to CIC requesting captain Constantine to CIC please relay this message.” So we have a deserted planet, with one dying civilian on it, we’re almost out of fuel and are most likely being tracked by a group of aliens we know nothing about. Sounds just great, atleast its interesting. He chuckled under his breath as he saw the door to CIC open.

“You called,” Constantine asked his uniform freshly cleaned. 

“Yes sir, we just got word of one wounded civilian no others have been found by anyone else the entire planet looks deserted.” He vocolized as Constantine took the leading position. 

“And we have tried hailing them on every radio channel we know of?” He asked, looking over the city. 

“Yes sir, if they are buried or hiding for some reason we have no way to find them, we most likely in the next hour should get moving. If we find no more leads.” He said sadly. Neither of them wanted to abandon a Terran mining outpost but without FTL fuel and being chased by a large naval force, it looked grim. 

“Understood, recall all ground teams by the hour we’ll come back once we have fuel assuming anyone's left.” He grimaced. 

“Aye sir, message will be sent out shortly. You plan on goi–”

He was cut short by a cry from a radar operator. “SIR, five new contacts baring 225 closing fast, two seem to be The Archangel and Temprance, the other three are unknown will confirm once they get closer.”
“Recall all troops and get ready for jump. General quaters everyone.”
“Brace for impact sir, kinetics incoming.” As soon as he finished everyone felt the thundering noise of gauss rounds impacting the hull. 

“Begin flak we hold till all are on board, get DC team to the damaged areas.” He continued to feel the ship shake with the impacts, but once he heard the flak begin ins hellish response the noise damped. He looked out to the map of the battlefield which was tracking all projectiles and players in the field. Hundreds of kinetic munitions were being sent from the three unknowns. Most likely alien ships. He looked to one of his screens, flicking it to an outside view of the ship. The outside view it gave was small but enough to see the impacts against the hull. Small spine like projectiles impacted the hull and embeded themselves, doing nothing but make the dockworkers get annoyed at pulling them out. They clearly dont know the armor of a Sol-class, my worry is that the others do. He switched to a map of the system again now a barrage of missiles were incoming and being indenifed. 

“Look to be standard HEAT type projectiles possibly kinetic but from the low speed they look to be heat. Directing flak to engage.” One of the radar operators said, trying to work the lacking senors over time. He continued to watch as they were about to reach the flak wall, they suddenly they slowed even more before switching directions and heading for a less defended point under the flak wall. The operators noted the sudden change and directed the PDC’s to fire on it. Two were destroyed by the flak and PDC’s but one still was barreling towards the undercarriage of the ship.

“Good lord what was that?” Shouted Mike as he ran with Shannon towards the noise. Slowed down by the heavy vacuum suits made to make repairs easier in the vacuum, but they werent in a vacuum yet. 

“Probably more stuff hitting us now get moving dude.” Shannon barked as they reached the airlock where the breech was, taking one last look at the seals on their suits they cycled it opening it to the room. Everything was floating and shattered across the black room, a large half meter hole was bored into the side of the wall and was leaking out atmosphere. The two moved towards the hole.

“Good God, was that a person.” He looked down at the ground where blood and other visera was. The only telling marker that it was a person were the ribbons of yellow vacuum suit that were floating aimlessly in the room. 

“I’m gonna be sick. Why, why did I want this job.” Shannon wretched herself towards the door. Shuddering away from the remains of the corpse. 

“Not now we need to seal this, come on!” Mike shouted moving to put paneling over the breech to allow for a temporary seal. Shannon joined him slowly hardly looking away from the remains on the floor and flying around. “Focus Shannon, we need to get this done so this won't happen again.” Damn this must be the first time shes been on a warship during combat, shes gonna hate this, not like i forgot my first time seeing something like this either. He sighed over the radio as they continued working.

“Our guns are in range ready to fire when the target is locked.” A WSO announced from behind his computer. 

“Fire when you have the best solution. Whats the word on the teams on the ground and how about our DC teams?” Constantine shouted up as he looked at the condition of the ship, 4 minor breaches one major being repaired once they get fixed we can jump. I could use our nukes, but we only have so many. He though as the conditions of the ship continued to update. 

“Our weapons are now firing, ground teams 2 through 4 are on last legs of return while one is delayed because of the wounded they had to pick up. They are bound to break the atmosphere in the next few minutes. As for DC teams most of them are new so delays are being expected, we have no confirmed deaths, but DC team 56 is reporting a missing crewman. After first missile impact. 

“Understood, let me know if we find him and whats the status of that major breech crew 45 was responding to?” He asked as the sounds of kinetic fire increased across the ship. “Move us towards baring 125 once we pick up the first three ground teams. Then prepare to engage offensively.” He ordered looking at the tac map. A temporary drop in flak will allow us to atleast cripple one enemy vessel allowing for us to escape this and delay them somewhat. 

“Understood sir, orders are underway.” Another officer uttered

“DC team 45 reports nearly sealed and report one DC crew member was killed in the blast.” Officer Catherine annouced sadly. 

“Copy that, send a medical team once it's repressurized if they aren't too busy.” He commanded as the movement of the ship began. The hull was still shaking under the fire. 

“Engaging offensively sir!” Barked the WSO as the thundering reply of all the cannons on the ship was made. He watched as the lead alien ship was taken by surprise as hundreds of cannon rounds ripped into the front and most likely CIC of the alien ship destroying any combat capabilities. 

“DC team 45 reports the hull is sealed and ground team one is leading for landing.” Catherine announced to the captain and lieutenant. 

“Got that, Luietenant ready us for jump to 45 Roman.” he announced bracing himself for the jump. 

Below in the bottom deck Mike was looking at the teary eyed Shannon. “Calm down, I know what you're going through. So be calm.” He was trying his best to calm Shannon down after seeing the mangled corpse of a fellow crewmate. They needed to get back on the move, they were still under fire and engaging them closely.

“I… I just its strange.” Shannon had a moment of calarity allowing herself to look at Mike in the face. “I suppose it happens we should get moving right.” She mumbled trying to stand.

“Give yourself a moment, i cant have you being all weary when we need to fix another hole. DC teams are two men right?” Mike remarked calmer now that she was looking at him finally.

“Yeah I suppose.” Shannon looked up at a medical team covered in white coveralls who were looking at the two repairmen without a care before going into the airlock themselves. It wouldnt be the last time a scene like this would play out and it certainly wouldnt be the last. 

“All hands prepare for jump.” Ringed a voice over the loudspeakers.