Vylik felt the shuttle settle on the ground. Well, we weren’t shot out of the air, she thought. That’s a start. Vylik liked to have a contingency plan for every possible outcome during every stage of a mission. It was an expectedly time-consuming process, but it was the primary reason she and her crew had survived for as long as they had in the lawless wilderness that was space. Chairo and Lubov sat against the opposite side of the cargo hold but the two of them sat apart (with almost two meters of space between them). She stared at Lubov shrewdly, his helmet’s tinted visor conveniently shielding his face. He’s deteriorating. She’d seen it before on other ships with other crews. Sometimes, people just broke. Call it whatever you like - “Cosmic Psychosis”, “Space Madness” - Vylik had seen it too many times to accept that it was just a myth.


    Bringing him to Omalia may have been a mistake, she thought. But did I have a reasonable alternative? Had I left him on the ship, I would have potentially endangered the other crew members who stayed behind. Vylik wasn’t sure anyone besides Chairo or Konstance could seriously contest Lubov’s physical abilities. She had always counted his freakish strength and agility as an asset, yet she knew full well a deteriorating mental state could easily turn that into a costly liability. At least here I can observe him closely and restrain him if needed.


    She exhaled slowly. The possibility of one of her crew having a cognitive breakdown was the last thing she needed to be considering right now. Focus on the objectives, she reminded herself. Make respectful contact with the Grand Council, secure the Unfit, and then get the fuck off this planet.


    “My name is Festus,” he continued, “I am one of the eleven who sit on the Grand Council.” He seemed to speak with some effort. He’s adopting a dialect we’ll understand better, she thought. How thoughtful. Despite this courtesy, she found herself utterly revolted by him. Giving her Exo a short verbal command, her helmet receded behind her.


    Didn’t stop you from asking a pretty price for her, she thought. Festus made a sharp turn so unexpectedly she almost collided with him. The fog thinned. They were approaching something. A structure.


    “Ever heard of the phrase ‘too much of a good thing’?” he said. “That’s what she is. Seirene.”


    A bark of laughter erupted from him. The structure in front of them was rapidly taking shape; it was a gargantuan pyramid surrounded by four slightly less gigantic pyramids. Now that her environment was discernible again, she deactivated her thermal vision. All five of the pyramids were all plated in what appeared to be burnished gold. The sunlight reflecting against their surfaces was so bright she had to squint. Shifting her attention away from the humongous structure, she discerned the tops of many other buildings far in the distance to the left and right. We must be on a plateau that overlooks the main metropolis of Umali, she thought.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “Members of the Rebellious Nature,” said Festus. “And, in your records, you will see that the Council gave them security clearances six months ago.”


    “I do indeed see that, Council Member,” said the disembodied voice. “Welcome to Omalia, members of the Rebellious Nature.”


    The gas smelled faintly sweet, like burnt cherries. Vylik felt the back of Konstance’s hand brush up against hers (she assumed unintentionally). She thought back to that night two days ago, how nice it had felt to press herself against him. Focus on the mission, she instructed herself. She forcefully willed her attention back to the present. You can think about fucking Konstance later.


    “Vi mead haxus due hu rextricket devuls,” continued Festus, in the strange language.


    “Seirene is at the very bottom of the facility,” said Festus. “Unfortunately this means the descent will be quite lengthy.”