《Smol-Tober! A Spoooky They Are Smol Fanfic》


 Chapter One

    Campfires are a tradition which span all Senate species; in hindsight this shouldn''t be surprising. Even given their much longer history, at one time the xenos were primitives with only fire to give them warmth during a cold autumn night. Thus they all felt a nicely primitive thrill at ''roughing it'', even if it was now an era of FTL travel and galaxy-spanning civilizations.


    Jason had just discovered, however, that there was one particular human ritual associated with a nice roaring campfire of which his shipmates were completely ignorant.


    "[What do you mean, [scary] stories?]" Hn''narnatnss (AKA Henry) coiled himself a little closer to Jason with a puzzled cant to his hood. The giant Jornissian looked in confusion at the others gathered around the fire. To a xeno that fire probably looked like a small blaze, but to Jason it looked more like a precursor to Burning Man.


    Gngnra-of-Hnarh (AKA Gertie) and Kn''na''''nan (AKA Karl) looked at their small shipmate in a confusion equal to Henry''s. The four of them had decided to spend their precious shore leave on Ngnran-Three by getting the hell away from everyone else on the ship. It wasn''t that they disliked the other crew, it was just the inevitable result of being shut up in a metal can with the same people for months on end. Fortunately the quartet all liked each other''s company enough to make this outing feel like a vacation with good friends and not a ''mandatory work fun time'' bit of dreariness.


    Jason raised an eyebrow at his shipmates. "You don''t tell each other spooky stories around a campfire? But...but this is the perfect time!" He waved an arm at the surrounding forest, now invisible in the darkness surrounding their little bubble of light and heat. "There could beanythingout there, that''s what makes it so great!"


    Gertie rippled her upper teeth together as she pondered the statement. The resulting fusillade of clicking sounded to Jason like a dolphin declaring eternal vengeance upon a sworn enemy. "[But this planet has been thoroughly explored. There''s no large predators, at least not on this continent.]"


    Henry''s hooded head darted in an almost-full 360 degrees as he took in their environment; the snakelike alien¡¯s movement reminded Jason of a famous bit from ''The Exorcist''. "[My senses extend well into the infrared, so if there is anything sneaking up on us I''d see them.]"


    The Dorarizin planted her fists on the ground. The gesture made her muscled and furry shoulders swell. "[And if any such things do appear, we can easily protect you.]"


    "[We certainly can!]" piped Karl with typical Karnakian enthusiasm. The sickle-like claws on his feet twitched as if preparing to disembowel any hapless intruder.


    Jason realized he''d stumbled upon another cognitive blind-spot of his alien friends. He pondered how best to proceed as he took another sip of not-cider. It was some sort of unpronounceable Karnakian drink, tasty and certified safe for humans but also alcoholic as all get-out; he''d found out the hard way that one could get drunk off one''s ass without realizing it. For that reason he was sipping, not gulping.


    "Let''s back up. Do you have a fight-or-flight response? Sorry if that term doesn''t translate."


    "[It does...mostly]", replied Karl. The giant raptor''s four eyes narrowed in thought. "[You mean an instinctual response to danger?]"


    "Yeah, that. I mean, let''s say something surprises you with an attack. What do you do as an instinct?"


    "[We scream and leap at the threat,]" said Karl. His rear claws twitched again for emphasis.


    "[We roar a challenge and crouch to attack,]" added Gertie. Her broad frame swelled even broader as she demonstrated the correct posture.


    By now Henry had pressed himself right up against Jason. The human had spent enough time around aliens to know that Jornissians were notorious heat-thieves, but there was something in the set of Henry''s hood that made him realize that the contact was intended as protective and comforting rather than just a standard heat-seeking cuddle. "[As for us, we coil and make ready to strike,]" said Henry.


    Karl tapped a clawed finger on his very long chin. "[From your description, I assume that [humans] do not simply attack when unexpectedly threatened? It''s more complex?]"


    Jason sighed and took another sip of not-cider. "Yeah. As usual for humans, it''s kind of a mixed bag. Our instinct knows that there''s animals out there that can kill us, but sometimes it''s the other way around or there''s nowhere to flee to. So we have to decide in a split-second whether or not if we should attack or if we should run." He looked around once more at the darkness pressing in around their fire. In spite of knowing that he was safe and with three good friends who could utterlyannihilateanything this planet''s biome could throw at them, the human gave an involuntary shudder.


    Henry pressed more firmly against Jason and tilted his hood the other way. "[What does this all have to do with [scary] stories?]"


    "Because when humans get that fight-or-flight response our body dumps a lot of chemicals into our bloodstream. Adrenaline for starters, plus I''m sure there''s a bunch of others that I''m forgetting. The sensation can be...kind of addictive."


    Karl perked up his snout. "[Ah!]" The Karnakian sounded even more happy now that he''d figured it out. "[So [humans] tell each other tales of simulated attacks, so that they can trigger this addictive response?]"


    Jason realized that description made his species sound like insane junkies, so he tried to walk it back a bit. "That''s a minor reason for their popularity. They can also act as cautionary tales, since a lot of ''em revolve around some jerk getting what''s coming to them. Ya know, say someone is responsible for someone else''s death but nobody knows...until the person killed comes back as a ghost!" He threw his arms up and out, his hands reaching like claws. "Ooooooh! You killed me, and now I''m gonna getcha! That kind of thing."


    Gertie relaxed back on her haunches, a similar look of relief and understanding on her features. "[We have something that might be similar, but we call them [attack-stories]. Does that translate properly?]"


    Jason felt a wave of relief upon realizing that he and his crewmates were more similar than he thought. "Yeah, mostly." Then he realized that he might have been misunderstood after all. "Er, who do you use as antagonists in those stories?"


    The Dorarizin''s puzzled green eyes flicked around at her larger compatriots in a silent plea. "[A bigger or more capable Dorarizin, of course. What are you driving at...?]"


    "Then that''s an action story, not a horror story. We have action stories too, and they do make us excited but not in the same way as horror. A proper scary story has something supernatural attacking you, something you can''t just beat up or shoot full of holes."


    His three crewmates stared at him in puzzlement, and Jason almost wilted under that disbelieving triple glare. But he rallied and tried to explain himself. "I know it sounds nuts, right?" Jason pointed into the darkness. "If it was noon, where we could see around us, then talking about ghosts and ghouls would feel stupid. But now? We can''t see out there, which makes it seem more plausible, at least to our hindbrains."


    "[The day/night cycle of this planet has no bearing on reality,]" said Henry.


    Jason blew out an exasperated breath. "No, you don''t get the point. Ofcoursethere''s no actual danger..."


    He was interrupted in turn by Gertie raising a finger. "[Oh! I see it now! By making the threat something you can''t destroy, you only leave the option of running away!]"


    The human shrugged. "Eh, that''s close enough. I know you guys don''t think of such things. You don''t imagine that kind of danger because, well, because youarethat kind of danger. Apex predators and all that, right?" He treated himself to a moody sip of not-cider and was startled to feel Henry''s scaly hand rest on his shoulder.


    "[Will you tell us such a story, my friend?]"


    Jason thought for awhile on the request. There was something he could tell them, something weird that had happened to him before he''d come on board the ship. However, it was way too strange a story to just spring on them all at once. Maybe he should lead up to it....


    Yes, he should lead up to it; not to mention this was a prime opportunity for a deeper glimpse into the aliens'' various psyches. "Tell you what. Now that you''ve got the idea, why don''t each of you try and tell a scary story? I''ll go last." He pointed across the campfire to Karl. "You go first."


    The Karnakian started upon seeing the (relatively) small finger pointed in his direction, then fidgeted his claws together. "[Well, I don''t know if I could do it right...]"


    Jason replied with his warmest smile. "Sure you can! I have faith in you. Just think of someone you can''t destroy or kill and make them the bad guy. Or, like I said, you could tell a story about somebody being bad and getting their comeuppance from something supernatural."


    "[Sorry, what is [come-uppance]?]"


    "Er, karmic retribution?"


    Karl straightened up, grinning with a mouthful of razor-sharp fangs. "[Oh I understand that! Oh yes, I know theperfecttale for that concept!]" The big raptor hunched closer to the fire, a motion which made all three of his companions mimic the maneuver.


    "[This,]" said Karl in a near-whisper, "[is the story of the Karnakian who had onlythree eyes...]"


    <hr>


    KARL''S TALE: THE THREE-EYED KARNAKIAN


    You already know that we Karnakians have a sense which none of the other sapient race possess. Our rear set of eyes can see a part of the electromagnetic spectrum which in turn allows us to see the neural activity of other beings. The specific way in which our rear eyes can accomplish this is well understood scientifically.


    Whatisn''tunderstood is how our brains then take that input and turn it into what we call ''soulsight''. If I had a [pet cat] or something similar in front of me, I could see the patterns of its brain activity but it would not look...soulful. Yet the three of you, my fellow sapients, your souls burn bright and lovely in my eyes. I can''t explain it any better than that, any more than any of you could describe a color to a blind person.


    This much is known, if not understood. What isn''t as well known is that we needbothof our rear eyes to have that soulsight function. If we lose one of them, either due to accident or disease, then our ability to view sapient souls goes away. We can still see neural activity, but it becomes just a...well, just so many dancing lights.


    Far back in our distant past, a few genetic defects caused this unfortunate condition. One of the great triumphs of science was in forever erasing those traits from our genome. Still, over the millennia since then there have been a few unfortunate souls stricken with this malady. Most of them are able to cope with the loss and go on to lead almost normal lives.


    But the Karnakian in this story, N''knn''il, was not one of them. He was born with the normal number of eyes but he was also haughty and prideful even in his youth. He would argue with anyone about religion, in particular the Karnakian''s place among the other species.


    This was during the time just after our meeting the [Jornissians]. We had already made contact with the [Dorarizin] and knew that they did not possess the same ''soulsight'' which we had; the religious meaning of this discovery was a matter of great debate among our most exalted Sacred Paths.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    When it turned out that the [Jornissians] did not possess ''soulsight'' either it caused an even hotter round of debates among ourselves. Was our ability a mere accident of evolution, or did it signify something more? Did it mean that we were meant to be first among sapients, or perhaps that we''d been chosen to be spiritual guides to the other races?


    N''knn''il''s view was in the ''soulsight is an accident'' camp, but to more of an extreme than anyone else. His viewpoint was so extreme, in fact, that he denounced the very Diarchy itself as a dead-end evolutionary path, a mere vestigial and primitive government that should be excised so that Karnakians could properly progress in a purely agnostic universe.


    As you can imagine, insulting the Diarchy in public is the gravest of crimes among us Karnakians, short of things like actual murder. For this most serious offense N''knn''il was made to do a most grievous penance; he was isolated in a small cell for [years], provided with only the thinnest gruel for nourishment.


    This punishment did not have the desired effect.


    Instead N''knn''il became more bitter during his confinement, more convinced than ever that he was correct. He grew to hate his fellow Karnakians and thought of them as mindless fools. After many [years], he formulated a plan to escape. The guards bringing his food had grown careless, and he had seen an opportunity in their regular pattern of delivery and retrieval.


    But that opportunity would require him to take a sapient life. Several lives, in all likelihood. And that is something my species abhors....


    I see that smug smile, friend [Jason], and I know what you''re thinking. But you surely know that our, er ''invasion'' of your planet was only due to a great misunderstanding. Once we realized our error we took great pains to avoid hurting your kind, even at the cost of our own lives. And yes, our kind has waged religious wars against ourselves in the past. But they were always short and always with a view to have as few casualties as possible.


    This is even true during our ancient history, when fighting was done claw-to-claw. I have been unfortunate enough to see good friends die; space is an unforgiving environment even at the best of times. It is horrible beyond telling to see a soul which you love snuffed out like a blown candle. But now imagine thatyouare the one doing the snuffing...yes, I see the comprehension in your eyes. As I said, our wars are always short.


    Back to N''knn''il and his quandary. He could escape the confinement that he deemed unjust, but it would require doing something abhorrent to our species. That quandary ate away at his very soul for another [year], and at the end of it he came to a horrid decision. He took his claw and...plucked out one of his rear eyes...


    I''m all right, friend [Jason], thank you for your concern. As you can all appreciate, it''s a most upsetting thought to any Karnakian. You know the myriad sensations that come from your eyesight; imagine deliberately blinding yourself and taking away of all that richness simplyout of spite.


    As terrible as it was, N''knn''il''s blinding had the desired effect. The next time the guards arrived they no longer registered to him as soulful beings; instead they were mere animals and only fit for slaughter. He sprang into action, killing the two guards at his cell door without a thought. The trail of destruction he left behind during the rest of his escape was equally bloody. Nine Karnakians dead, ten more permanently crippled...and then N''knn''il simply vanished.


    He remained at large and unseen for a long time, in spite of a massive search. After a while it was thought (or, more properly, hoped) that he''d succumbed to an infection from his self-inflicted injury and died in some out-of-the-way star system.


    But after a [decade] N''knn''il returned, and when he did there was even more blood and pain than when he''d made his original escape. He was now a pirate captain with a stolen ship and a crew of [Dorarizin] and [Jornissian] criminals. The first attack was horrible enough; after boarding and killing any who resisted, the three-eyed pirate hunted among the survivors for any Karnakians. Finding none, he threw his captives out of the airlock without a second glance.


    His next attack, however...there were three Karnakians among the prisoners. N''knn''il made those three watch as he spaced the others of their crew. Then he had them tied up after which he...blinded them, clawing out one of their rear eyes in the same way as he''d done to himself. He left them alive, telling them that they were the privileged first few of a new Karakian race.


    After that...well, if [N''knn''il] attacked you then you fought to the last. Because the alternative was either death by vacuum or, if you were a Karnakian, something akin to a living death.


    The Diarchy threw what resources they could into trying to capture or destroy this fiend, but N''knn''il was the most perfect blend of cunning, vicious, and fanatical. He avoided every trap, every fleet. This was in the days before the Senate, so what help came from the other races was disjointed at best.


    As if it couldn''t get more horrible, one of the Karnakians whom N''knn''il had blinded became just as insane as the self-styled ''liberator'' of the Karnakians. That particular doomed soul was named R''''ttt''kar, a large and strong Karnakian who became N''knn''il''s second-in-command. Within [months] this wretch''s cruelty became almost as feared as that of N''knn''il himself.


    N''knn''il grew bolder still. He now had a much larger ship, a fanatically loyal crew, and the giant figure of R''''ttt''kar at his right hand. Hence he started raiding colonies. Four of them fell, and the fanatics left terrible slaughter or painful, soul-crushing blindness in their wake...until they came to Krr''ill''nan.


    Today Krr''ill''nan is a monastery asteroid, famed for producing some of the most insightful Karnakian scholars and sages in the entire Diarchy. But back in that time it was a small outpost with only a single aged Karnakian monk who had shut herself away in holy sequestration. Her name has been lost to the ages, and there are no official records of her existence. Apart from the monk the asteroid held a handful of her followers, there only to tend to her needs.


    N''knn''il had heard tales of this holy woman and his claws itched to blind this Karnakian, to strip her of her false piety and show her the true animal nature of the world. He and his crew attacked Krr''ill''nan with more than their usual ferocity, killing the Karnakians there instead of blinding them.


    The three-eyed Karnakian set himself at the forefront of the carnage, shooting and slashing down any resistance, until at last the raiders fetched up against the large double doors which led to the asteroid''s inner sanctum and to his chosen prey. Those doors were welded shut, with only a small slit at the bottom to allow for food to pass through.


    Within a few minutes he and his crew turned those same doors into so much scrap. N''knn''il told most of his followers to wait as he strode with gleeful anticipation up the long corridor, with only R''''ttt''kar at his side to bear witness.


    The inner sanctum reminded him of the cell he''d occupied during his long imprisonment. It was carved out of the nickel-iron of the asteroid itself, forming a cubical space lit with electric torches. There was a bed, a toilet, a source of water...and that was all. At the center of the cell was something he didn''t expect; a large rough-hewn block of granite with a small chunk of quartz crystal on top.


    N''knn''il indicated to his second that he should wait at the entrance, then continued his confident stride into the chamber. He stopped and waited for the cell''s occupant to acknowledge his presence.


    The holy woman was an aged Karnakian; once upon a time her feathers must have been the brightest electric blue. But now they were faded to the color of the sky at the horizon. It was clear she was close to the end of her life, but in spite of the weight of her age she knelt upright and proud on the floor at the opposite side of the granite block. She looked upon the intruders with a gentle smile.


    When she spoke, her voice was hoarse from lack of use. "|Greetings. I''ve been expecting you.|"


    N''knn''il snorted. "|I don''t doubt it. You must have heard us killing your friends out there. And you can save your greetings, you superstitious fool. You know why I''m here. Surely you''ve heard of me, even shut away in here?|" He puffed out his chest in smug triumph.


    Her slight smile didn''t falter. "|Yes, but not from those you''ve just butchered. I learned of you from this.|" The holy woman gestured with one wing-arm at the crystal in front of her. Its facets were polished to a mirror finish but otherwise the quartz had remained uncut.


    The pirate laughed. "|Oh, I''msureit told you.|" He leered back at his number two. "|You see? This deluded idiot has been alone for so long that she''s taken to talking to rocks!|" N''knn''il turned back to the monk and took a step forward, stretching out a talon. "|One little slash,|" he crooned. "|One little teensy-tiny little slash and then we''ll see how well you can commune with minerals!|"


    The holy woman tilted her head as her crest remained in a neutral position, indicating her utter lack of fear. She looked almost as if she was examining some fascinating insect. "|The eyes are nothing. Our true sight comes from within. Blinding me will do nothing.|"


    N''knn''il''s feral grin increased in intensity. "|Feh, you''re already blinded by your faith. You and your kind shut me away rather than hear the truth! You all shut me away to ROT!|" His voice pitched up into a scream at the last word.


    The monk sighed. "|I had nothing to do with your punishment. It''s unfortunate that the Diarchy didn''t send you to me rather than sequester you. I could have taken you under my wing. I could have shown you the right way, thekindway, but it''s too late now. You''re nothing but a willing slave to your lust for destruction. You tear down all around you and call it progress.|"


    The pirate captain threw back his head and laughed. "|Blinded by faith indeed! Perhaps I''ll render you fully sightless and keep you as a pet. It''ll be amusing to watch you wander around and bump into walls while you burble your nonsense.|" He stepped around the quartz and brandished both his hands. "|Before I pass judgement on you, I''ll give you one last chance,|" he sneered. "|Go ahead and sermonize to me. Show me what you would have done if I''d been delivered instead into your ¡®tender¡¯ care.|"


    The monk stared back, still unafraid. "|Look into the crystal. Look with your other sight, the one you abandoned long ago. You will see something there.|"


    N''knn''il''s triumph faded into puzzlement. "|But I only have the one eye...|" He shook himself in irritation. "|Your solitude has driven you insane,|" he said as he swept a wing-arm at the quartz. "|That is a Diarchy-damnedrock. Surely you''re not claiming there¡¯s any neurons in there?|"


    "|Our second sight is not tied to mere neurons,|" replied the monk. "|It is intended to view something much more grand, a power which stretches out beyond all comprehension. Living beings are the most holy products of this power, hence they are the easiest for us to view.|" She leaned forward and patted the crystal fondly. "|But this? This is as much a part of the universe as you or I. You can see within it the same power which we see with our second sight; we call it ''brain activity'' but it''s something much more profound.|"


    N''knn''il glanced at the rock, then looked away. "|Madness.|" But his voice was just a little less certain than before.


    She leaned back. "|No, not madness. Even with your one remaining good eye, you too can comprehend this...power. The only challenge is to resist the temptation to look too deeply.|" Her smile widened, showing her teeth for the first time. "|Trying to see such an infinity with your finite brain? Now thatwoulddrive one mad. I can see why you''re afraid.|"


    N''knn''il''s furious gaze bored into her. His ruined rear eye, now a knot of scar tissue, seemed to shine in the room''s torchlight. "|I fear nothing!|," he rasped, then turned and focused that same stare onto the nearest quartz facet.


    R''''ttt''kar saw his leader''s arms drop to dangle bonelessly. N''knn''il''s head tilted as if trying to bring something more into focus. The second-in-command heard the faintest whisper from him.


    "|Fascinating. It''s...it''s not a soul, but something else. What...what color is that? I have to see more...|" N''knn''il stepped towards the crystal, entranced.


    R''ttt''kar shifted his attention to the monk, whose smile now looked downright evil. On instinct he snatched his sidearm from his holster and pointed it at the holy woman, who started laughing upon seeing the weapon''s muzzle aimed at her. She said two final words.


    "|Too late.|"


    Just as R''ttt''kar''s finger tightened on the trigger, N''knn''il let out a piping scream that made the big karnakian flinch. R''ttt''kar''s shot went wide, the beam boring a hole into the nickel-iron wall next to the woman''s head. Before he could correct N''knn''il staggered back from the crystal into his line of fire. His three eyes were wide, terrified.


    "|Too big!|" screeched the pirate captain. His gaze lit on R''ttt''Kar, and before the other could react he sprang upon his comrade, clawing and slashing at the other''s face. R''ttt''kar fought back in desperation, trying to keep the crazed Karnakain away from his head.


    All the while N''knn''il kept screaming.


    "|Too much! Too big! If we see to much, IT will notice! IT will see us! WE have to *stop seeing!*|"


    R''ttt''kar was bigger, but the captain had the strength and speed of a demon. In a few more moments N''knn''il managed to claw out R''ttt''kar''s other rear eye, and as the second-in-command reared back in pain the captain darted forward and bit out his throat.


    N''knn''il''s rampage didn''t end there. He ran back up the corridor, blood streaming from his muzzle and R''ttt''kar''s purloined gun clutched in one hand. All the while he screamed that everyone had to stop seeing lest they be doomed. His crew had no chance at all to react as their suddenly-crazed captain began slaughtering them all with guns, with talons...


    ...with teeth. With so many teeth...


    When the relief force arrived at the outpost of Krr''ill''nan, they found the pirate ship gone. They also found no one left alive. In the following forensic investigation, the Diarchy used the outpost''s internal cameras to piece together the events of the raid. They accounted for all the unfortunate disciples who had attended the holy woman. As for the pirate crew, all of their half-mangled corpses were duly catalogued and returned for burial to their respective governments. R''ttt''kar was burned as is our custom, but his ashes were scattered in secret in many different places in order to prevent any possible reincarnation of his soul.


    They found the holy woman kneeling in front of a block of quartz, her wings folded serenely over her chest and her crest laid neatly back along her skull. Her four eyes still stared deep into the crystal''s depths, and they were wide and unafraid. But she was quite dead, although there was no injury upon her and no disease or internal wounds that they could detect.


    No trace of N''knn''il or his ship were ever found, and never again did he raid any ship or outpost. It was thought, or perhaps again hoped, that he crashed himself into the nearest star while in the depths of his sudden and inexplicable insanity.


    But there are those who say he is still out there, cursed with immortality by whatever unimaginable power he witnessed. Thus cursed to never die, his screams resound forever louder as he stares out into an endless cosmos...


    ...an endless cosmos whichstares back at him.

 Chapter Two

    Kn''na''''nan leaned back, his crest raised in satisfaction. His three companions stirred and sat up. Hn''narnatnss flexed his coils in a reflexive shiver. "<Well, that was...interesting.>"


    "[Yes, it''s quite the tale,]" added Gngnra. The Dorarizin almost looked like a male, what with her fur fluffing out around her neck like a mane. She met Hn''narnatnss''s eyes and he saw that she felt just as uneasy as he did.


    The warmcuddle by his side, however, clapped his small hands together in applause. [Jason''s] small teeth bared in a delighted smile. "[Oh, yeah! That''s the good stuff, [Kn''na''''nan]. You''re a natural at this]!"


    The Karnakian''s crest rose in delight at the praise. "[Thank you! That is a common story among...]" He trailed off as his crest deflated a bit. [Er, promise you won''t be angry if I tell you where it comes from?]"


    "[Of course I promise! Go ahead.]"


    "[We tell that story to our hatchlings. It''s a cautionary tale that''s based on some old stories about a real three-eyed pirate. I apologize, I know you didn''t want a children''s story.]"


    Jason''s grin didn''t falter. "[Are you kidding? That''s the whole point of telling it at night! Like I said, in the daylight it would sound pretty silly. But now...]" The warmcuddle trailed off and waved at the dark forest around them. "[Now it seems just a little more likely, am I right?]"


    Hn''narnatnss twitched his hood around in a quick movement that would have snapped the neck of any other species. There was nothing visible out there save for a few far-off heat blooms of some hunting avians.


    The Jornissian told himself to stop being ridiculous. This was no frontier planet, it had been thoroughly mapped and surveyed. The local ecology''s apex predator was only half the size of a warmcuddle, not to mention it hunted strictly via ambush. There was nothing out there that could harm them. By Sotek''s nethers, that was the reason they''d chosen this planet for what his warmcuddle friend termed ''R and R''.


    His musing was cut short as the aforementioned friend patted one of his coils with a small but very warm hand. "[Okay, [Hn''narnatnss], you''re next.]"


    The Jornissian''s unease turned into mild panic. "<What? I mean, I''m not sure I have anything that can compete with that last story.>"


    [Jason] laughed. "[Don''t think of it as a competition. Think of it more like...giving us an insight into your species. [Kn''na''''nan] told us about something that makes [Karnakians] uneasy, namely how losing one''s [soulsight] could turn them cruel.]"


    Kn''na''''nan cleared his throat. "[To be fair, in the story [N''knn''il] chose to be cruel before blinding his own [soulsight].]"


    "[And that''s why it''s a good cautionary tale,]" replied [Jason]. "[You''re teaching your kids to be nice to others, because even if they could get away with being cruel in the short term then in the long term universe will smack them down. The weird stuff in the story is just to get the lesson to stick, to make it memorable.]"


    Hn''narnatnss could almost hear the ''click'' in his brain as he suddenly remembered a tale from his own childhood. "<Memorable...there was a story told back when I was a mere snakelet. It was a story I haven''t thought about for a long time, although it made me very uneasy when I first heard it....>" He shivered, and his warmcuddle friend leaned into him; the friendly motion suppressed Hn''narnatnss''s natural ''flee the cold'' inward-coiling reaction and made him straighten back up. He mused for a moment about how it was unfair that such a small species could generate such a decadent amount of heat.


    "<This is the story I heard in my youth. It involves a peculiar jeweled box...>"


    <hr>


    HENRY''S TALE: THE JEWELED BOX


    Snnn''nratnah was a very successful Jornissian by any external measurement. In his youth he''d invented a handy mining drone program for sorting large amounts of raw materials with maximum efficiency. Through the years he parlayed that initial success into a wide-ranging commercial empire that spanned a large number of industries. Snnn''nratnah was rich, but more importantly he never fell into the trap of treating his subordiantes like lesser beings. His name was synonymous with being kind and well-respected.


    Over the years, however, he''d come to...not exactly hate his elevated position, but to be annoyed by it, especially when it came to decision-making. Snnn''nratnah had a talent for choosing good and responsible people to help delegate a lot of his workload, but the sheer size of his holdings meant that his days were still filled with lots of urgent, ''must-decide-now!'' choices.


    Snnn''nratnah would never admit it out loud, but deep down he was tired of being in charge. He pondered the pros and cons of simply retiring...but in the end he chose to stay in charge. By now his company felt almost like a child of his and he couldn''t imagine finding someone capable of keeping it running the same way that he could.


    It is unknown how Snnn''nrathnah came into possession of the jeweled box. Some stories say that he inherited it from some distant family member, other versions claim that he found it in some out-of-the-way store which was never rediscovered. However it came into his hands, Snnn''nrathnah at first merely counted it as part of his overall wealth.


    The box was indeed pleasant to look at. Made of a deep green wood of unknown origin, its hinged lid fit snugly in a casual display of expert craftsmanship. Three large gems adorned the lid, each a different color. There was a deep blue sapphire, a light green emerald, and a pale red ruby. Each gem was cut into a hexagonal shape and cunningly faceted to sparkle brightly in even the dimmest of light.


    Because it was so eye-catching, Snnn''nratnah kept the box in his personal quarters. It became part of his nightly routine to give the box a final glance before bedding down. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he always fancied he saw one final glint from the box just after he turned off the lights.


    One night Snnn''nratnah returned to his quarters more tired than usual. It had been an exhausting day of decision-making and he was almost ready to just call it a day and curl up in his nest. But then a grumble from his stomach reminded him he hadn''t eaten in a few days. He knew the importance of keeping up his strength, but what to do for dinner?


    Thanks to his wealth he had a very fine cook in-house to provide for him and his staff. It would be simplicity itself to just ring for her and ask her to surprise him with something delicious. He''d never had a bad meal from her and trusted her judgement. But he also felt like he''d been indoors too much recently. There was a nice [cafe] not too distant from his manor with lots of outdoor seating; it would give him a bit of good exercise to slither there. He''d been there frequently, and enjoyed people-watching the passers-by as he ate his dinner at his usual table.


    Snnn''nratnah grumbled as he realized he had yet another choice to make. His eyes lit on the jeweled box and his irritation faded a bit as he marveled once more at how its gems sparkled. Seized by some sudden humorous impulse, he spoke to the object.


    "<So what do you think? Stay in or go out for dinner?>" He snickered. "<Let''s say...blue for in, red for out.>"


    His mild laughter died as he saw the sapphire''s sparkle pulse just a little more brightly than the others. "<Do...do that again.>"


    The sapphire dutifully pulsed again. Snnn''nratnah rubbed his eyes and wondered if he was getting enough sleep. He snorted and turned away. "<Definitely need to get to sleep early tonight. I guess that means eating in.>" The Jornissian threw an amused glance over his shoulder. "<Looks like I''ll follow your advice after all.>"


    The box did not reply.


    As expected, his chef prepared an excellent meal for him. He made sure to compliment her on it as he finished the last of it, and now feeling quite content he headed to his quarters to sleep. The tycoon gave the jeweled box a suspicious glance as he passed by, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. That night he slept very well and rose the next morning feeling refreshed and happy.


    His good mood evaporated when he exited his manor. A thoroughfare ran perpendicular away from his property, and at the far end he could see a profusion of people darting back and forth and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.


    Snnn''nratnah almost ignored it. If it was something important it would show up on the news feeds. But his innate curiosity got the better of him and he slithered up the street to see what the hubbub was about. His curiosity started to turn to dread as he realized that the activity centered around the [cafe] which he''d almost visited last night.


    He couldn''t get too close; the emergency vehicles had cordoned off the outdoor seating. With mounting horror he saw that area was now filled with twisted metal shards. In one corner sat the crumpled lozenge-shape of a crashed aircar...right in the spot where his usual table had once been.


    Snnn''nratnah managed to grab the shoulder of a passing Jornissian journalist, who was clad in the standard yellow vest of his profession.


    "<What happened?>"


    The journalist shrugged her hood. "<Not sure yet. Somehow the aircar lost all power and automated guidance at the same time.>" She wriggled away from his grasp and headed towards one of the Jornissians conducting the clean-up crew.


    In a daze Snnn''nratnah made his way to his office. He liked to go by tail rather than by vehicle; most days the stroll would invigorate him. Today, however, he entered his office tower with a sense that somehow he was still asleep, that this was not his reality.


    He went through the morning''s duties and meetings in an automatic stupor. During a mid-day lull he called up a local news feed and read intently about the crash and its aftermath. Somehow the three Jornissians on board the aircar had survived, albeit with serious injuries. The crash had occurred while only a few diners were present; those on the ground had received some minor wounds but nothing critical.


    His secretary came in while he was scanning through the article. The assistant looked at the holograph of the wreckage and shook his hood.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "<Terrible news, sir. I heard about it earlier. It''s a miracle no one died.>"


    Snnn''nratnah didn''t respond at first, just stared with flinty-eyed intent at the image. "<...must have been a trick of the light,>" he murmured.


    "<Sir?>"


    The tycoon shook himself and focused his eyes on his secretary. "<Er, yes. Terrible accident. They still don''t know what caused it.>" He glanced again at the scene of twisted metal and then back at his secretary. "<Can you have N''nnnranrn make some discreet inquiries about the status of those injured? The three aboard the aircar in particular. I want to make sure they receive the best of medical care.>"


    His secretary smiled at hearing further proof of his boss''s generosity. "<Of course, sir.>"


    "<Oh, and tell Mnnathra from R&D to come up to my office. I have a special assignment for her...>"


    <hr>


    Snnn''nratnah was no fool. Even back then it was an age of technologies which would have seemed like magic to our primitive ancestors. Thus the first thing he did was have the box thoroughly scanned by every instrument available to him...which was all of them. To the team doing the analysis he claimed that he was just interested in getting a thorough breakdown of what it was made of, to get a better idea of its origin.


    Privately, though, he wondered if he''d somehow been the victim of a technological hoax. With nanotech it would be child''s play to create a box which seemed to be solid wood but which hid a network of microphones, logic circuits, and micro-LEDs. Even though he''d had it for years, it was barely possible that some old rival of his had cooked up a crazy scheme to make him doubt his sanity.


    Because if that was the case, then that aircar crash was not an accident and someone out there was guilty of attempted murder.


    But in spite of his suspicions, the jeweled box stubbornly refused to be anything other than wood and gems. His team did manage to trace the origin of the wood itself and found it came from a deciduous flowering tree native to a life-bearing world some few light-years distant. But they discovered nothing else out of the ordinary; if the box was a hoax it was not due to any technology housed within.


    The crash itself was also explained a few weeks later. A billion-to-one chain of events led to a massive short in the aircar''s power supply; in another unlikely chain of events that short caused a total erasure of all guidance and emergency power. The faults thus exposed by the accident were fixed and all went back to normal.


    Except, of course, for Snnn''nratnah. He took the jeweled box back from his team and put it right back in its normal place in his bedchamber. He spoke of its precognition to no one due to a superstitious instinct he refused to admit to himself. The tycoon kept telling himself that the flash he''d seen was nothing more than a trick of the light or of his tired eyes. He knew that the only reason he remembered it was thanks to the horrible coincidence of the aircar crash happening at the same time.


    And yet...he also knew he''d been on the verge of going out to eat. He would have been sitting at that [cafe], he would have died but for the box''s intervention. No, not intervention, that word implied some sort of consciousness in the thing. Now more than ever he knew it was just a box. He knew he should just let the matter drop as a billions-to-one happenstance.


    But he didn''t let it drop. After another few weeks of mental anguish he decided to proceed in a rational manner and see if the box really was some kind of...decider? Fortune teller? Either way he''d see if he could replicate the phenomenon...hopefully with fewer injuries to innocent people.


    First he made sure that the blue flash wasn''t a hallucination caused by a deeper medical issue. He had himself put through a complete physical and made sure to include detailed brain scans in the mix. The resulting diagnosis was that he was almost disgustingly healthy and could expect to live a good long while.


    Thus reassured as to his mental health, Snnn''nratnah started with one minor business decision. After multiple discussions the matter he told his underlings that he''d get back to them the next day. His trip home that night was filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Would he see any flash from the box? If not, it would confirm his self-diagnosis of tired eyes.


    He''d eaten yesterday, so there was no need for dinner this particular evening. After bidding good night to his staff he shut himself away in his quarters and stared for a long while at the jeweled box. Finally he gathered enough courage to speak.


    "<The acquisition of V''aaannth Motor Company. Blue for Yes, Green for No.>"


    The tycoon''s breath caught as he saw the emerald pulse with a definite internal light. "<No? That''s strange, by all appearances they''re a good ''get''.>" He pondered further, then spoke again to the box. "<All right, we''ll do it your way. It''s only a few million after all.>"


    The next morning Snnn''nratnah told his puzzled staff that the acquisition was off for the foreseeable future. Within the next few weeks, however, that puzzlement turned to awe when routine audit uncovered a major bookkeeping scandal within V''aaannth Motor Company. The supposed ''sure thing'' would have cost Snnn''natrah''s company many millions, and those closest to the tycoon remarked among themselves about how the boss''s intuition had saved them from a lot of headaches.


    That intuition became even more remarkable over the next few months; it seemed that Snnn''nratnah simply couldn''t [put a foot wrong] when it came to business. His already-remarkable business acumen now seemed almost supernatural as his extensive business empire became even stronger.


    That newfound ''supernatural'' intuition was, of course, thanks to the jeweled box. Every night the tycoon shut himself away and quizzed the box about what he should do next. At first he threw in a few ''tests'' where he''d do the opposite of the box''s recommendation; those tests invariably ended badly. He kept meticulous track of what the box recommended versus the outcome, but after a while it seemed unnecessary. Without fail the box steered him right, every time.


    He also found that the box didn''t need verbal cues; he could simply ''think'' of the problem and the box would dutifully flash its decision. Every time the tycoon saw those twinkling flashes he felt a little surge of happiness at the box''s beauty.


    Six months after the accident Snnn''nratnah had his office redecorated. He took advantage of that change of scenery to bring the box to his office, installing it in an out-of-the-way spot on his desk as if it was simply a bit of [bling]. At the end of the day he''d close his office door and spend a pleasant hour or so staring into the box as it flashed and pulsed its colored instructions for the next day.


    Snnn''nratnah''s wealth grew more prodigious still, but he made sure that his charitable donations and overall generosity grew in even greater proportion. After all, he told himself, he couldn''t take all the credit. For the first time in a long while, he felt nothing but happy with his place in the world. He was wealthy, he was loved, and he was now free of the obnoxious burden of decision-making. Now the tycoon could coast a bit and truly enjoy the fruits of his labors.


    In the next few months he came to treasure that time at the end of the business day, when he''d lock his office door and spend a happy hour or two staring into the pulsing flashes of the jeweled box. After a while this communion became so ingrained that he didn''t really have to even ''think'' his questions; it was as if the box itself reached into his head and ''told'' him what to do. Sometimes, the next day he felt as if he wasn''t in full control of his body, as if he was nothing but a [marionette] whose strings were pulled by...something else.


    That strange feeling always passed after an [hour] or so.


    Over the next year Snnn''nratnah''s initial elation faded. He acquired even more wealth and accolades due to his charity, to the point where one would be hard-pressed to find a single Jornissian on the planet who''d say so much as a mean word about him. But the praise and goodwill tasted like so much ash in his mouth. He knew it wasn''t him that was responsible, it was that...thing. He grew to resent it, but still every night he''d spend an hour staring into the box as it issued its instructions for the next day.


    More ominously that feeling of being [puppeted] kept returning, and for longer each time.


    After another few weeks his resentment boiled over into hatred. His subordinates noted his short temper that particular day, followed by an unexpected turn when Snnn''nratnah decided to leave work early for the day. The others glanced at each other as the tycoon slithered out the door without his usual cheery goodbyes.


    Snnn''nratnah calmed down as he made his way home, and made a mental note to apologize to everyone the next day for his rudeness. But it would do him good to get away from the habit of using the box, to get a good night''s sleep and make his own decisions tomorrow. He was still the person who''d built an empire, after all. He didn''t need some bit of supernatural claptrap to succeed.


    His sleep that night was troubled, filled with dreams of flashing lights and unspoken summons. At last Snnn''nratnah woke, and as he blinked the sleep from his eyes he realized to his horror that he was back in his office. It was the dead of night judging by the blackness outside, and positioned in the center of his desk sat that accursed jeweled box. As his eyes lit on it the thing began pulsing its instructions.


    RedGreenGreenBlueRedBlueGreenRedRedGreenBlueBlueGreen¡­


    Snnn''nratnah shut his eyes as he screamed. "<STOP! NO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!>" But even with his eyes firmly shut and his hands over his eyes he could still see the pulsing colors as if the thing was connected directly with his brain. It repeated its instructions, this time somehow with a note of menace.


    RedGreenGreenBlueRedBlueGreenRedRedGreenBlueBlueGreen...


    <hr>


    The next morning his employees were startled to find Snnn''nratnah already at work. He greeted them warmly and apologized profusely for his shortness the previous day, claiming that a bout of indigestion had caused his lack of tact. The workers accepted his apology readily, and the day seemed to pass in a whirl. Their boss seemed like a young man again as he gleefully tackled the myriad decisions needed for the day.


    Inside, however, the tycoon was screaming. He felt with sickening helplessness that sensation of watching helplessly as something else spoke for him, moved his arms and body, smiled at the world using his face. Instead of passing within a few hours, this time he remained ''locked'' within himself until the end of the day. He watched as ''he'' bid a good night to his employees and retired to his office, watched his own hands lock the door and place the jeweled box in the center of the desk.


    As he seated himself, Snnn''nratnah felt control return to his body. Once again he was ''himself'', but for how long he couldn''t say. He waited for the box to begin flashing, but this time it seemed to be waiting for something.


    "<What are you?>" he whispered.


    There was no reply.


    "<Is this meant to show me your power? Some sadistic taunt? You give me control of myself until I try to leave, is that it? Then you''ll take control as you did last night and...and...become me again. You want my life, don''t you? Whatever Harsak-created abyss you came from, you want to be me.>"


    As if tiring of his speaking, the box flashed blue. Before it could complete its next instruction, Snnn''nratnah acted.


    In the midst of a sudden rage, he whipped his tail around towards the horror on the desk. Faster than an eyeblink he coiled that tail around the box and squeezed with a madman''s strength. In his desperation he expected the act to achieve nothing, that the accursed object would prove invulnerable to mere physical attack.


    But he was wrong. Snnn''nratnah felt a momentary elation as he heard wood splintering and felt the box collapse within his constricting coils; there was a brief pain in his tail as a few sharp-ended shards cut his scales. That minor pain was suddenly swamped by a titanic pulse of agony in his brain, and the tycoon screamed as he clutched at his head. He slumped to the floor as the room went dark...


    There were a few employees still in the building, and when they heard their employer''s scream they sped to the office. Finding the door locked, they dithered in indecision for a bit before breaking it down.


    They found Snnn''nratnah sprawled behind his desk, staring at the ceiling with a bit of drool running from one corner of his mouth. Around him lay scattered pieces of dark green wood; for a moment they looked to the rescuers like bloodstains, but they quickly realized he didn''t have a mark on him.


    Within minutes an ambulance arrived to transport the unconscious tycoon to a hospital. He never regained consciousness, not really. Scans showed a massive cerebral hemorrhage in his brain; it was a medical mystery to the doctors, given that Snnn''nratnah was in the peak of health and had even had a full brain-scan not two years ago which showed no underlying issues. They checked thoroughly for any hint of foul play, but in the end had to just write it off as an unsolved medical mystery. His smashing of the box was put down to an accident during the tycoon''s initial convulsions.


    For the next few years Snnn''nratnah managed to cling to life, staring out at the world with dulled eyes and a vacant expression. He was taken good care of, and there was no shortage of volunteers to help the poor man who had once given so much to his community.


    Eventually Snnn''nratnah died, and a great monument was erected in his honor. His remains were entombed within its base. As for the remains of the jeweled box...it was well known how much Snnn''nratnah liked the object, so in a final gesture of respect they placed the remaining splinters alongside his body.


    Snnn''nratnah''s tomb stands still. It is said that if one goes there on a night without even the slightest breath of wind to make a sound, one just might hear a faint cracking noise.


    A noise like that of someone trying desperately to smash a wooden box.

 Chapter Three

    Gngnra-of-Hnarh took in a good mouthful of her own drink and smoothed down her fluffed-out neck fur with one irritated paw. She was not some flighty male given to jumping after the latest fashion or flinching at the slightest sound. By the Pale Moon, she was chief of security for their ship and she needed to start acting like it.


    Kn''na''''nan''s crest lay flat against his head, and he was pressed into the dirt in a subconscious gesture of submission. The Karnakian realized his posture and straightened up with an air of ''you didn''t see that''. Gngnra felt uneasy enough that she didn''t chuckle at his discomfort, even to herself.


    [Jason], of course, showed nothing but adorable delight. "[That''s a good one too! Thanks, [Hn''narnatnss]!]"


    During his storytelling, the Jornissian had gradually tightened himself into a figure that looked almost like a ball of yarn with his head poking out of its middle. It would have looked humorous save for that posture''s clear unspoken signal of mental distress. Now that he was finished, [Hn''narnatnss] slowly repositioned himself into a more comfortable-looking pile.


    "[Thank you, friend [Jason]," he replied. "[That was...not an easy story for me to tell.]"


    The tiny-chomper, who normally picked up on his shipmates'' moods with no effort, somehow didn''t understand just how unsettled [Hn''narnatnss] was. "[Yeah, I liked the ambiguity. Like, where did the box come from? What was its purpose? Was it alive or just some kind of weird parasite...?]"


    "[It isn''t that!]" snapped [Hn''narnatnss] with uncharacteristic harshness, causing [Jason] to flinch away in alarm. "[My sincere apologies,]" he continued in a softer tone. "[You must understand...the notion of being trapped in one''s own body, of losing our own agency...Jornissians find that idea very upsetting.]"


    "[Oh, I see.]" [Jason] patted a nearby coil in sympathy. "[Sorry to put you through that. I mean, this isn''t supposed to be traumatizing. It''s supposed to be good fun.]"


    The Jornissian shrugged his hood. "[I have to admit, I do feel better. I remember being very unsettled by that tale as a snakelet but now, after the retelling, it doesn''t seem so frightening.]"


    [Jason] smiled and gave Hn''narnatnss another comforting pat.


    Kn''na''''nan let out a trill of despair. "[But he did nothing wrong!]" His shipmates looked at him curiously, and he fidgeted his claws again. "[I mean, in my story [N''knn''il] chose to be evil and was punished for it. But in that last story, the [Jornissian] was a good person! Even when he was profiting off of the box he was making sure to give back to the community!]"


    Now that she''d had a chance to regain her composure, Gngnra felt like she could properly analyze the latest story. "{He wasn''t evil, true, but he was lazy. He wanted to have the accolades and wealth of his elevated position without dealing with the difficult choices that came with it.}"


    "[Hmm, yes. I suppose that''s true.]" The Karnakian''s crest rose again as his normal cheer reasserted itself. "[He got his wish, but at a horrible cost. So it''s a cautionary tale too, in a way!]"


    [Jason] shrugged. "[Sure, but [spooky] stories don''t have to be just warnings. Take [spirited dwelling] stories, for example.]"


    "[What?]" asked the other three simultaneously.


    "[Crud, guess that didn''t translate well. Um, the story setup is usually a person or a whole family move into a dwelling, then it turns out someone died there a long time ago and their [spirit] still [remains within] the [dwelling].]"


    Kn''na''''nan stroked his long chin with a claw. "[But wouldn''t the [human''s] soul return to the Great Spirit? Or even if you believe those benighted fools in the [Seven Rings] the soul should still reincarnate...]"


    [Jason] held up a hand to forestall the inevitable oncoming avalanche of religious pondering. "[Well, you see usually the [human] died in some bad manner, usually murder. So for whatever reason their [spirit] isn¡¯t at peace and can''t move on.]"


    Kn''na''''nan fluffed his chest out in happiness. "[Oh, I understand now! How do these stories usually end?]"


    "[Well, either the main characters figure out what happened to the [spirit] and can somehow put it right...after a lot of [scary] stuff happens, of course...or they just get scared and run away.]"


    "{So these types of story have no deep and valuable moral lesson?}" asked Gngnra with a grin. She was careful to not show her teeth too much, since a full-on Dorarizin smile tended to...unsettle tiny-chompers.


    Jason smiled back. "[Not really, it''s more an excuse to talk about spooky stuff. But don''t think chatting about this will get out of your obligation! It''s your turn, after all.]"


    She leaned back and rippled her teeth together. "{Hmm. If I''m not allowed to use an attack-story, then I''m not sure I can contribute.}"


    "[Aw, come on! There''s gotta be some old tale you can use.]"


    Gngnra thought further. "{Well, there is one story I know that might work. You could almost call it a [spirited dwelling] story without the dwelling. I didn''t hear it as a child; it''s one I came across while taking a class on ancient mythology. I hope that qualifies.}"


    "[Of course it does!]" said Kn''na''''nan while Jason nodded his own assent.


    She set her drink aside. "{Very well, I''ll relate on one condition. [Jason] sits by me while I tell the story. Even the thought of it makes me uneasy.}"


    [Jason] chuckled. "[All right, it''s a deal.]" Hn''narnatnss looked a little sad at losing his mobile heating rock as the tiny-chomper stood and walked over to the hulking Dorarizin with the standard adorable wobble of his kind.


    By now it was one of the worst-kept secrets in the galaxy that the other Senate races instinctually viewed the tiny-chompers as cute. To his credit, [Jason] never abused that instinct with his crewmates. He did his job and never tried to use what the tiny-chompers called [puppy-dog eyes] to foist his duties onto anyone else. Still, it was obvious that he knew how he affected the three of them. And they knew that he knew, and also that he knew that they knew that he knew and so on. They''d all made an unspoken pact to never, ever bring the matter up.


    Gngnra felt a little more settled as the tiny-chomper sat cross-legged on the ground next to her arm, close enough that her fur just barely brushed against him. She''d never admit it even to herself, but that little bit of physical contact was enough to give her courage. Still, she paused to reach over and throw another log onto the fire...just to make sure the darkness didn''t creep any closer in while she related her story.


    "{All right, then. This is a tale which starts with a mighty hunter in search of prey...}"


    <hr>


    GERTIE''S TALE: THE FOREST OF MANY PATHS


    As you doubtless know, Dorarizin families evolved from simpler pack structures. In the distant past, before our species gained sapience, those packs were how we hunted. Even after we became self-aware our kind still used the same basic form to hunt for food, although we used smarter techniques to do so.


    On our homeworld is an animal called a glrnada. You recall that last [year] we were sampling each other''s cuisine, so I know you''ve all tasted its meat. The animal itself is huge, at least three times the size of the largest adult Dorarizin. It''s also famously bad-tempered; one of our sayings when faced with some odious task is ''I''d rather wrestle a glrnada single-handedly''. What makes it even worse is that the glrnada is a herd animal. Tackling one glrnada is bad enough, now imagine dealing with a few [dozen] vicious giant horned beasts who are all ready to give your pack a good stomping!


    For these reasons glrnada were left alone during our prehistory, and we made do by hunting smaller and easier animals. However, once we gained sapience our hunting became more subtle and less of ''everybody pounce on the weakest herd member''. With that change in tactics, glrnada became...well, not ''easy'' to hunt but let''s say ''less difficult''.


    Part of those improvements involved having one or two Dorarizin scout ahead to find the position of glrnada herds and which way they were heading. Then the rest of the pack could get ahead of the oncoming herd to set up traps and ambush positions.


    Being a scout was one of the most prestigious and difficult positions in any pack. It was a role only given to the most cunning and seasoned hunters, especially those skilled in navigation and able to [live off the land] by themselves for many days at a time.


    In these long-past days there was one particular scout of great renown by the name of Rnaghr-of-Ngraz. She was remarkable for her ability to travel long distances with minimal navigation, to find the largest glrnada herds, and for her cunning in organizing the trapping and killing of those herds. Rnaghr also loved exploration of new areas, and her scouting trips grew ever-longer. She searched for many [miles] around the Ngraz main camp, save for one densely-wooded valley. From before she was born the pack elders forbade everyone from setting so much as a toe into that area; any questions as to why was met with a shrug and a vague statement about ''tradition''.


    Thanks to Rnaghr''s efforts, the Ngraz pack grew large in number and every member went to sleep with a full and happy belly. At the time of this tale the winter season was fast approaching. Thanks in large part to Rnaghr''s ability, the Ngraz had stockpiled a generous amount of salted and smoked meat. This winter held no terrors for the pack''s adults; they knew they had enough to feed their young and themselves.


    But Rnaghr was still unsatisfied. She''d been through a particularly harsh winter as a pup, and the memory of that near-famine still gnawed at her. If she had her way the Ngraz pack would be practically drowning in food.


    However the pack''s matriarch did not agree. "{We have barely enough room to store food as it is,}" she said to Rnaghr. "{Even if we managed to trap another glrnada herd, what would we do with the excess? It would be wasteful.}"


    Rnaghr didn''t relent. "{But temperatures are dropping! By the time we harvest the meat, it will be below freezing. We can store that food in snowbanks without fear of it spoiling.}"


    "{Even if I agreed, where would we find your mythical herd? We''ve trapped all the herds in this area.}"


    "{There is one particular valley we could check...}" Rnaghr knew she was treading on a sensitive topic, so she made sure to keep her head lowered and avoid giving any non-verbal challenge to her superior.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Still, the matriarch''s ears flattened against her head in obvious anger. "{Absolutely not. It''s forbidden for anyone to intrude there.}"


    "{But why? And don''t just say ''because of tradition''.}"


    "{I...wasn''t going to say that,}" replied the matriarch, even though her expression made it clear that ''tradition'' was her planned response. "{It''s said that anyone who sets foot in there is never seen again.}"


    Sensing a weakness, Rnaghr pressed onward. "{But how long ago were these disappearances?}"


    "{That doesn''t matter!}" snapped the matriarch. "{Our forebears lost too many of our scouts to that never-moonlit place! Enough to make that decree one of the oldest of our pack.}"


    "{But the decree was made a long time ago,}" said Rnaghr in a persuasive tone. "{It may be there were a few large glrnada herds in there, numerous enough to kill our scouts. But I''m not afraid. At least let me check.}"


    The matriarch made an imperious swiping motion with her paw. "{No, I have decided. We need your help in preparing shelters for winter, not scouting for un-needed food in places which are best left alone.}" She strode off, leaving Rnaghr behind to grind her teeth in frustration.


    That night she did not sleep well. It would have been so easy to accept the matriarch''s decision and stay with her pack. Like any proper Dorarizin she felt safest when in the midst of others, but she was also keenly aware of her duty to the pack. An innocent mistake during the preservation process could render their food surplus inedible, or some unexpected blight or mold could take hold and also cause catastrophe.


    It was still dark out the next morning when Rnaghr came to her decision to explore that forbidden valley. Yes, she would earn the ire of the matriarch and her pack but her return would show that the ancient proscription was mere superstition. Even if the pack decided not to trap any more glrnada for the winter, her information would give them all a head start on hunting in the spring. That alone was worth risking her peers'' anger.


    Thus decided, she gathered her spears and gear and set out. Those standing guard over the sleeping pack caught not the slightest hint of her passing as she slipped out of camp like a spirit. Once she was out of detection range she relaxed and set off towards her destination at a near-run.


    Rnaghr figured that her absence would not be discovered until sunrise. By then she''d be far enough away that the matriarch would veto any attempt to retrieve her; winter was coming on, and everyone was needed to prepare for it instead of chasing after some wayward scout.


    It took her several days to reach the forbidden valley. She paused as she came over a ridge and took in the magnificent sight. The place was bounded on either side by knife-like mountains whose tips were so high as to be permanently frosted with snow. Below those mountains stretched a forest of dark green trees that occupied all of the valley floor. The granite ridge she stood upon ran down towards the nearest trees, and from here she could see that the forest was so dense that very little sunlight reached the ground beneath it.


    Rnaghr took a moment to compose herself, as she was about to commit what some might deem heresy. She settled her spears upon her shoulder and strode down the rocky slope with determination in her steps. Once she reached the edge of the forest, she made sure to look up at the snow-capped mountains on either side and fix their orientation in her memory. One of the most important skills of any good scout was the ability to navigate through dense brush and woods and know where you were and where you¡¯d come from.


    She figured that even with trees this dense she''d be able to catch glimpses of the mountains and thus orient herself. Failing that she could climb a tree at night and use the stars themselves. Thus reassured she crept forward into the forest. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed that once she was well among the trees everything seemed to become more hushed. Birdcalls became muted, and the other normal sounds of scampering wild animals faded away.


    The first few days were frustrating. Rnaghr spent the first few hours expecting to see something that would explain why this place was forbidden, but apart from its dense brush and closely-spaced trees the forest was perfectly normal. The leaves overhead filtered out much of the sun, so that even at noon the place seemed like twilight.


    The scout marked on trees as she headed deeper into the forest so that she could retrace her steps during her return. She detected no tracks or spoor of any animal larger than her paw. Rnaghr trapped quite a few of the small scurrying animals and ate them with relish; if nothing else she knew she could survive here quite easily by living off of such meager prey. On the fifth day, however, she finally found something substantial.


    Her find was a wide lane of well-trodden earth which ran through the dense forest like a highway. She clicked in pleased relief; this was the familiar sight of a trail created by a glrnada herd. Quite a sizable one, based on its size. Rnaghr allowed herself a moment of joy that her gamble had paid off, then focused again on the business at hand.


    For starters she needed to fix the location of this trail so that she could find it again next spring. As she''d suspected, the leaves overhead crowded out any view of the mountains. She sighed and set her spears down, then began scaling one of the taller trees. The scout was careful to choose one able to support her weight.


    When she poked her head above the forest canopy, she was surprised to find that she was farther into the forest than she''d suspected. But she shrugged and scanned the mountains to either side of her, making sure to note again individual crags and features so that she could triangulate and find this place again. A quick glance overhead showed the gray expanse of an overcast sky; this surprised her, since from the ground it had appeared clear and blue.


    She shimmied back down the tree, picked up her spears, and reexamined the trail. The glrnadas'' hoof-prints stood out clear as crystal, and were only a few days old. So Rnaghr set out after them with renewed vigor. Her ears stood out at attention and her nose was ever-sniffing for evidence of her prey.


    Night fell without any sign of her quarry. Rnaghr decided it would be wise to get another fix on her position, this time using the stars. She looked up and in the slight gaps in between the leaves she could see pinpricks of light; the cloud cover must have disappeared. After a more careful bit of climbing she again raised her head above the forest canopy, this time looking to the skies. And now for the first time Rnaghr felt uneasy.


    She couldn''t see any stars.


    This didn''t look like the obscuration caused by clouds, it was as if the sky was just...blank, a canvas of pure black stretching over the mountains. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, but the sky stayed stubbornly dark.


    Rnaghr climbed back down, keeping a watch upward. As soon as the leaves obscured most of her vision, then she could suddenly spy a star here and there. But they never appeared with enough of their neighbors to allow her to identify them. She climbed back up, but once the leaves thinned out she once more saw nothing but blackness overhead.


    When Rnaghr set her paws back on the ground she was a much less confident Dorarizin. She wondered if this strange blank sky was the reason for her pack''s shunning of the place. For a while she debated with herself on how to proceed; should she continue pursuing the glrnada herd, or head back? At the end of that debate her natural confidence reasserted itself and she decided to press onward. She''d marked her path in, so she could always leave. If she didn''t find the herd within two days she promised herself that she''d head out. She picked up her gear and continued onward.


    By the end of the next day she caught on the breeze the faintest whiff of unwashed glrnada. Rnaghr snapped her teeth in happiness and slept well that night, confident that the next day she''d find the herd. She''d spy on them and judge the best way for her pack to take the herd down. That would be information valuable enough to appease her pack''s anger.


    But the second day after her promise brought no such discovery. The scent of glrnada grew stronger, but otherwise she caught no sight of the herd. As the darkness of night descended Rnaghr inwardly cursed the fates but outwardly remained stoic. She''d promised herself two days, and two days had passed. It was time to leave.


    The next morning Rnaghr set out on the return journey. The blazes she''d cut into trees stood out even in the dim light, and her mood improved as she retraced her steps. Soon she''d be reunited with her pack, soon she''d see the stars again.


    It took a few days before Rnaghr realized that she should have reached the edge of the forest. Now she was making no effort at stealth and traveled at a much faster pace. The scout refused to panic and decided she needed a better visual fix on her location.


    With a faint feeling of dread Rnaghr scaled up a nearby tree and looked out. The sky overhead was that same flat gray, but she ignored that as she focused on the mountains to either side. She felt a bit of relief as she realized she was close to where she''d originally found the glrnada trail, but that relief was soon replaced with puzzlement. Surely she should be well past that point by now?


    She ignored that little voice of unease and set off again. Another full day of travel made that unease flare brighter. Her trail markings still stood out bright against the dark forest, so she knew she must have come this way. But now much of the forest looked the same; her natural sense of direction no longer seemed as certain.


    At the moment she was in a small clearing. She could see blue sky overhead, but somehow she knew that the moment she was above the treeline that sky would become the unending gray she''d witnessed before. Still, she should be able to use the mountains as a guide. Rnaghr''s arms ached in protest as she hauled herself up another moon-cursed tree.


    When she reached the top Rnaghr felt panic take hold of her. From the position of the mountain features, it seemed she was in the exact same place as one day ago. Her claws dug deep into the tree as she ground her teeth together. "{No!}" she yelled to herself. "{Stop being foolish. It''s just due to the unusually dense forest, that''s all.}"


    In spite of her self-reassurance, when Rnaghr reached the ground she began running. She didn¡¯t even bother to pick up her spears, and left them ignored in the dirt behind her. She ran as if an entire herd of rampaging glrnada were at her heels. She ran and ignored the gnawing hunger in her belly, stopping only to drink from puddles when her thirst became too much to bear. And the forest never changed, her trail-blazes now appearing to mock her as they reeled by in an unending stream.


    She did not stop until she collapsed from exhaustion. With the last dregs of her strength she pulled herself upright and willed herself to become still and quiet. She knew she didn''t have enough energy to move for hunting, so an ambush would have to do.


    After a few [hours] a small creature became complacent thanks to Rnaghr''s stillness and dashed across the forest floor near her foot. She pounced and grabbed the animal, tearing its throat out and slaking her thirst with its blood. The rest of the beast followed down her gullet and she felt a little strength return to her limbs. She stood on shaky legs and continued on. There was nothing else she could think of to do, save to lay down and wait for death to claim her.


    She felt a bit of hope return when she caught a glimpse of open space ahead. But that hope turned to fear as she stumbled into a small clearing. A set of hunting spears lay in the middle of that clearing.


    Her spears.


    Rnargh sank to her knees. "{WHY?}" she screamed into the twilight woods. "{What did I do wrong? I just wanted to feed my people! Now all I want to do is leave! Leave, and never set foot in this accursed place again!}"


    She fell forward onto her elbows and sobbed. "{Please, just let me leave. What do I have to do to...}"


    Her eyes lit on her spears. Some mad instinct made her crawl forward and snatch them up. "{You want these?}" The stout wood of the spear-shafts splintered like un-fired clay under the sudden raking frenzy her claws. "{Then HAVE THESE!}"


    She reared back up onto her knees and roared, letting the ruined bits of her weaponry slip from her paws. "{I swear by the ancient mothers that I''ll never pick up a spear again! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?}"


    There was no answer except for a soft breeze and a few muted birdcalls. Rnargh slowly regained her feet and trod out of the clearing, no longer really seeing her trail-markers as she moved on instinct.


    On she plodded, not raging or hopeful or even fearful. She became a machine, a thing that sensed but did not see. Even when the trees finally parted in front of her she did not howl for joy or even crack a smile. She simply lurched away from the forest without so much as a glance backward.


    <hr>


    Many days later the Ngraz pack roused themselves for a new day. The morning routine ceased when one of the sentries sent up a howl of alarm.


    He¡¯d discovered the sprawled-out, half-starved figure of Rnargh. She''d passed out within sight of camp. From the sores on her feet it was clear that she''d walked and run without ceasing for many miles. The scout was quickly bundled into her shelter and given food and water. She was very weak, and only able to speak in a whisper as they bandaged her wounded paws.


    When the Ngraz matriarch asked her point-blank if she''d been to the forbidden valley, Rnargh gave a slow nod. The matriarch''s anger at Rnargh''s audacity was tempered with relief that their most accomplished scout had returned. Then her natural curiosity got the best of her and she asked the obvious question.


    "{What did you find there?}"


    Rnargh didn''t meet her eyes, but instead stared at the roof of her shelter. "{Nothing. There''s nothing there,}" she whispered.


    "{Surely you saw something odd...}"


    The matriarch trailed off as Rnargh brought her gaze down. Her eyes bored into the matriarch''s. "{Nothing. There.}"


    The rest of the pack learned not to ask the scout about her ordeal in the endless forest. During the following spring Rnargh caused another scandal when she refused to so much pick up a spear or take the slightest part in any hunt. She accepted the most menial and low-ranked duties as long as it kept her in camp and among her packmates. Other bits of odd behavior became notable as well, such as the way she flinched away from an overcast sky or slept outdoors in even the bitterest cold. When asked about the latter, she would claim that she needed to keep an eye on the stars.


    She said that if she stopped watching the sky, someone might take it away.

 Chapter Four

    Jason took another sip of not-cider and was pleased to see he still had a half a mug left. During Gertie''s tale-telling she''d unconsciously pressed her arm a little more against him. Not hard enough to push him over, but with enough pressure to envelop his side in her arm-floof. Now that she was done, she leaned back and picked up her own mug.


    Karl blinked and shook himself as if coming out of a spell. "[Another fascinating tale! Perhaps not as much of a parable, but one could argue it contains some elements of one''s hubris causing trouble.]"


    Henry didn''t look as stressed as he had at the end of his own story, but he was still coiled in on himself a little more tightly. "[Indeed. Quite unsettling, apart from any, er, ''punishing'' of pride on the protagonist''s part. The thought of being lost and helpless like that, well, it''s not something I''d want to dwell on.'']"


    Gertie didn''t respond. She looked lost in her own thoughts as she sipped her drink, only to start in surprise as Jason hesitantly touched her arm. He''d gotten good enough at reading Dorarizin body language to know that she was genuinely upset.


    "It was because she was alone, right? Not just that she was lost, but that she was lost and without her pack."


    The Dorarizin nodded. "[Like I said, it''s just an old myth. But it''s stuck in my head ever since I heard it.]" With exaggerated care she put her arm around Jason''s shoulders for a sideways hug. "[Thanks for your concern, but I''ll be fine.]"


    She removed her arm and playfully bopped the top of the tiny-chomper''s head with one finger. "[But don''t think you''ll get out of your obligation either! Your story had better be worth the wait!]"


    Jason chuckled as the other two aliens wriggled their way closer to the fire, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.


    "[I''ll bet it''s about a [human] being chased by a predator,]" said Karl with a sassy flip of his crest.


    Henry shook his hood. "[I''ll bet it''s a [haunted house] story, but with an actual [house] this time.]"


    Jason looked up at Gertie for her input, but she just shrugged. He sighed and drained the rest of his not-cider. "You understand that we humans have a lot of stories for times like this, right? I could be lazy and tell you about the hook-handed killer, or the weeping woman, or the one about the big toe..."


    "[The what?]" asked Karl.


    "Oh, ah, I''ll tell you that one later. It''s more of a silly kid''s story. Say, do you mind if I get a little more of that stuff?" He handed his mug to Karl, who refilled it from his own much-larger bottle. "Thanks. Might need a little liquid courage for this one."


    Gertie settled her big arm once more onto Jason''s shoulders. "[You don''t have to tell us, if it''s so upsetting.]"


    Henry nodded his agreement.


    "Nah, I should. You see, I''ve never told this story to anyone. And I mean anyone."


    Karl perked up his crest. "[Oh, you came up with this one on your own?]"


    Jason swigged some not-cider and relished the slight burn it made in his throat. "Not really. You see, this isn''t a made-up story. This is something that happened to me..."


    <hr>


    JASON''S TALE: GONE WALKABOUT


    Before I joined you guys, I was a shipbreaker. Does that word translate? It means I was helping take apart old ships and sort out anything valuable before they turned the rest of it into scrap for re-use.


    Why not use robots? Good question, Henry. See, even now Earth is still working through all of the economic dislocation which happened after First Contact. Don''t be sad, Karl! I know you guys were doing what you could to help. Anyway, thanks to that there''s a lot of people out of work and not enough jobs to go around. So either you put everyone on the dole, which sucks, or you find something for them to do.


    I was lucky enough to grow up on a farm in a place called Idaho. I was born quite awhile after First Contact, and my family and our neighbors managed to avoid a lot of the previous bad times. That also meant that I had a job waiting for me, and I heard a lot from my parents about how growing food is a noble profession.


    But space called to me. I loved lying in my backyard at night, looking up and out into the night sky. I liked to imagine my ancestors doing the same, back when we thought we might be alone in the universe. So naturally when I came of age I applied to the placement program. Now, it''s the ''official'' policy of the OIH that everybody has an equal opportunity to get placed with an alien crew.


    But the truth is that Earth''s governments are terrified of depopulation. If we get too dispersed, who''s gonna make new humans? Which in turn means that, unless you possess certain skills, you don''t get into the placement program. All I knew was how to grow potatoes, so I got a pat on the butt and a generic ''thanks but no thanks''.


    Still, I wasn''t gonna give up that easy. Even though the placement program turned me down, there were other jobs to be had in space. Once I''d got enough expertise under my belt...sorry, Karl, it means once I''d gained enough skill...then I could reapply. Sure, in the meantime I''d be stuck in Earth orbit but at least it was space.


    After looking through what was available I found only one type of job I was qualified for...shipbreaking. It was nasty, sweaty, hard work and thus there was a lot of turnover. They were always looking for new people regardless of prior experience. The catch was it was not only sweaty and hard work but also dangerous. I was always a smaller and more wiry than average, so I was a natural fit for the job. Heh, quite literally. I could wriggle into nooks and crannies like nobody else. After a while I didn''t even notice the discomfort and how the sweat pooled in my pressure suit. The job became like a moving meditation, and I could step outside of myself and chill out.


    It might seem weird that humans already had enough obsolete ships to make shipbreaking a profession, but in hindsight it makes sense...kinda. Once humans gained the ability to reach orbit easily, the governments of the world were frantic to make up for lost time and get some navies of our own built up. Seems silly now, but you gotta understand that during that time we were paranoid as hell. We had no idea if you all were truly friendly or had some nefarious plan.


    Don''t ask me what kind of plan, Gertie. Maybe they were worried that human flesh would turn out to be really tasty or something...settle down, y''all! We know you''d never do such a thing, humans have gotten a lot more relaxed since then.


    But anyway, like I said everybody was in a hurry to make lots of ships for ''protection''. Never mind that we had no experience in how to make something like a proper warship, not to mention even if we did y''all could probably take out every Terran fleet with your version of a rowboat. Thanks to that initial panicked bout of shipbuilding we wound up with some real stinkers. Especially the Armstrong class.


    Oh man, the Armstrongs. I wish we could go back in time and erase those ships from existence, because a steely-eyed missile man like Neil Armstrong doesn''t deserve to have his good name sullied by plastering it onto such a crapshow.


    I guess they wanted to make it the space version of a corvette. It was supposed to be small, fast, and maneuverable. They equipped them with just enough armaments to make ''em somewhat of a threat and made ''em cheap enough to churn out in mass quantities.


    What they wound up with was a slab-sided wallowing pig of a ship with an underpowered engine module. It maneuvered with all the grace of a pile of bricks. On paper it was supposed to achieve one gee of acceleration, but in practice it might make half that if you really flogged the engine. Its mass-drivers were too powerful for its size; apparently you could throw the entire ship off course with a single shot. They installed gas thrusters to try to cancel out that recoil, but that was just one more complex system packed into a ship already too small for its intended mission.


    By the time they''d figured out what a disaster it was it was too late; they''d started making hundreds. Thanks to the human ability to fall for the sunk-cost fallacy, the powers that be decided to, heh, ''make do''. Because of that, ''Armstrong'' has become synonymous with what not to do in ship design.


    <hr>


    Out of all of the many hundreds of ships in that unfortunate class, the most unfortunate was the Lexington. She''d been built in...what? Yes, Karl, we tend to call ships ''she''. No I don''t know why, it''s just a thing we do. Where was I? Oh yeah, the Lexington. She was among the first of her class, so a lot of the stupid design decisions never really got reworked. I read up on her full history after...after what happened to me. She did a lot of escort duty out to Selene and Olympus Mons, but ''escort'' is a little grandiose of a term for ''always breaking down and having to be towed''.


    The Lexington''s crew was also, er, special. Her Captain, Magnussen, was a functional alcoholic of a Dane who somehow kept getting ahold of booze in spite of repeated attempts by his crew to throw all spirits overboard. The doctor was a ditzy American named Hughes who sometimes spouted off about ''realigning chakras'' during her diagnoses. The XO, a laconic Pole by the name of Olczak, was convinced that his assignment to the Lexington was karmic retribution for some horrible sin he''d committed in a past life. He spent most of his time keeping Captain Magnussen upright and facing the correct direction while keeping the ship and the rest of the crew together. The other crew were equally colorful, especially the ship''s engineer. Her name was Sousa, a bouncy redhead from Australia who was convinced that with ''just a little more tweaking'' she could have the reactor and engines purring along with no problem. The fact that the Lexington was always the slowest and least reliable of her class did nothing to dampen Sousa''s enthusiasm for her ''Sheila''.


    Under her care the engine section of the Lexington, already a close-packed space, became even more bewildering as she welded in new coolant pipes with nary a thought for safety protocols. Most of her time during flight was spent back in the power section, trying to coax the fission reactor to behave itself for more than a few hours at a stretch.


    Yeah I know, I know...fission. Like I said, the Earth governments really threw these things together in a paranoid hurry, and that was the most advanced engine tech we''d developed before the Karnakians came calling. We weren''t about to put hyper-advanced alien engines into something that was intended to ¡®protect¡¯ us from the aforementioned hyper-advanced aliens.


    During the last voyage of the Lexington the crew was on their own, no escort or patrol duty for that one. To make matters worse it was also a bit of an emergency. Some weird bacterial infection had cropped up on the Olympus Mons colony. After consulting with Earth via laser they were pretty sure it was a strain from Earth that had mutated in the higher-radiation environment. But on the other hand it just might be a native Martian microbe who''d decided that humans made a dandy home.


    Either way, Olympus Mons was locked down in a tight quarantine until they could determine the true nature of the organism. This was early days for the colony, so the most advanced expertise and equipment were still back on Earth. Those experts needed physical samples to analyze and make sure this wasn''t something worse. And wouldn''t ya know, thanks to various logistical screw-ups the only ship in Mars orbit with enough delta-vee to make the trip to Earth was the Lexington.


    The higher-ups stuffed a bunch of frozen bacterial cultures on board and sent them on their way...with fingers crossed, of course. The plan was to burn for four days at half-gee to build up speed, coast for eleven days, then flip and burn for another four days to match velocities with Earth. In spite of the engine''s notorious fussiness, Sousa swore an oath by her poisonous and perilous nation that she''d get them the full eight days of continuous burn.


    And during the outward acceleration it seemed like her oath had done something. ''Sheila'' managed to crank out a half-gee continuously without complaint, and that taste of success seeped into the rest of the crew. Magnussen was more functional than usual and for once seemed to give a damn about completing their mission. Olczak smiled, a unique moment actually captured on video. Sousa became like a ghost, appearing only sporadically to grab some water and rations before returning to the ship''s rear and her beloved engine.


    They made the planned four day burn, and everyone relaxed a bit during the next week while the ship coasted. Sousa slept right through the first three days of coast, utterly exhausted from her efforts. She waved off the crew''s concern with an admonition to ''stop being a mob of whinging poms''.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    No, Henry, I''m not quite sure what that means either.


    Tension rose onboard during the tenth day of coast. Within forty-eight hours they''d have to fire up the engine again, and in spite of her rest Sousa still looked frazzled. Her red hair stuck out in all directions and that wasn''t because of freefall. Captain Magnussen tried to assign Olczak to be her assistant during the deceleration burn but the engineer wasn''t having it.


    "This is bloody hard yakka, but it''s my yakka!" she yelled. "Sheila and me have an understanding now. We''ll get you yer four days, but I ain''t gonna babysit some clueless wanker in the meantime!"


    In the end, all they could really do was let Sousa do her thing and hope for the best. The concern about the deceleration burn was not academic; if they didn''t get four days of continuous thrust then they''d miss Earth by millions of miles as they sailed on past. Did I mention that they only had enough fuel on board for one attempt?


    Yes, Gertie. There were Senate ships available in case they needed rescue, but they viewed that as an option of utter last restort. Pride is one helluva thing, especially for a species still in the throes of uplift.


    So the crew of the Lexington stowed everything and made ready for the end of freefall. They strapped in while Sousa made her way aft. Everyone else stared at the countdown timer and waited for the inevitable disaster.


    But disaster didn''t come. A familiar rumble shook the ship as they felt weight return, and Sousa''s elated crowing could be heard on the intercom.


    "Toldja! Sheila and me are mates, through and through..."


    The steady rumble suddenly turned into a series of hiccups, then returned to normal. But now Sousa''s voice was filled with alarm.


    "Coolant leak! Bugger me, it''s the main reactor line...hang on, gotta patch it." Her grunts of effort and a few choice Australian curses drifted out of the intercom.


    Captain Magnussen was, for once, dead sober but now regretting it. "Olczak! Get back there and assist her!"


    The XO started to unstrap himself, only to be stopped by another shout from the intercom.


    "No, damn your eyes! Nobody set foot in here, the entire engine compartment''s hot!"


    The Captain stared at the intercom box in horror. "Engineer, what''s your dosimeter read?"


    There followed a long pause which said everything. Finally Sousa spoke one word. "Enough."


    Everyone slumped in their acceleration couches as she went on. "Got the leak fixed, though. We should be good."


    "Until the next leak, at least," muttered the XO. Then, more loudly, "Sousa, if you get out now we might be able to..."


    "No, I took over ten Grays. I''ve had it. But you need four days, we''ll get you four days."


    The crew unstrapped themselves, everyone feeling dazed at the knowledge that one of their own was now working under a death sentence.


    The next twenty-four hours were horrific. Sousa kept up a brave front and talked a lot of cheery nonsense, but they could also hear her almost continuous vomiting. The next day she felt much better, but neither her nor any of the others were fooled. She''d entered the ''walking ghost'' phase of acute radiation poisoning and everybody knew it would only get worse as time went on.


    On the third day the pain and nausea returned. Sousa made one final call up to the captain.


    "Sorry, boss fella. In a bit I''m gonna be too weak to move. Can''t do proper repairs. But I spoke to Sheila, told her no ¡®ard feelins. She promised me that she''ll get ya home."


    Magnussen hadn''t so much as looked at a bottle since the disaster, and his vision now swam. It was a little from withdrawal but much more due to tears. "Sousa, we''ll make sure you''re buried with full honors..."


    "Nah, mate. Gotta lot more pain headed my way and I''m not going out like that. Figure I''ll go walkabout instead."


    The crew watched in silence as the rear airlock cameras showed Sousa entering the chamber. She was dressed only in her uniform. Her red hair was now matted and patchy, with bald spots showing on much of her scalp. But her shoulders remained straight and upright as the outer door opened.


    True to the engineer''s word, the Lexington''s engine didn''t quit. They made the four full days of burn, and when they shut down the engine it didn''t even so much as sputter in protest. The bacterial samples made it to Earth, they found a cure, and the Olympus Mons quarantine was lifted. They parked the Lexington in a graveyard orbit where it sat for decades while they waited for the radioactive contamination in the engine compartment to decay to safe levels.


    <hr>


    This, of course, is where I come in all those decades later. I''d been shipbreaking for a few years by now and I''d heard the tale of the Lexington''s final voyage. When that ship popped up in my queue I was concerned. Not because of any superstition, but because the ship had suffered a major radioactive leak. It was going to be a finicky job, but by then I''d acquired a reputation for accomplishing the difficult. First I sent in a drone with a dosimeter just to make sure there weren''t any remaining ''hotspots''. I figured I''d start with the easier stuff first and leave the engine compartment for last in case I ran into anything unexpected.


    I budgeted it as a three-week job. The first two weeks went about as expected, although I did feel weird for the first couple of days. After all, this was a ship where someone had died on board. But nothing jumped out at me, so after a while I just put my head down and got on with it. I flushed the life support system and dismantled that, then followed up with the electronics and control systems. Those latter bits were decades out of date but still valuable for minor tasks. I stripped off what hull plating I could without interfering with the reactor''s systems.


    By the third week there was nothing else left to strip, so into the engine compartment I went. Usually, the tricky part in deactivating a fission reactor is draining the main reactor coolant into shielded containers. Even all these years later there were still lots of fun radioisotopes in that stuff, and I didn''t want to recontaminate the place.


    Of course, even before that I had to check that the core itself was safed properly and had its control rods fully inserted. The problem was, the only way to check that was on the control board gauges. There were no windows into the core itself, so I couldn''t visually verify that the rod indicators were correct.


    I hate to admit it, but I was also in a hurry to get this ship done and dusted. During the last few days I''d felt...I dunno, watched? I put it down to getting worked up thanks to the ship''s history, but I could sense a presence around me, even though I knew I was the only one on board.


    What added to the creepy feeling was me finding the hair. All that hair, big clumps of it...still bright red even after decades in hard vacuum. Her hair had drifted all over the place, wedging into the engine compartment''s various nooks and crannies. That made Sousa''s death more than just a spacefaring tale. I now knew viscerally that she was a real person, one who''d never lived to see her final triumph.


    Like I said, I wanted to get this job done and get the hell out of there forever. I checked the control board indicators...the control rods were in, we were good to go! I grabbed the first lead-lined bottle and hooked it into the coolant line''s relief valve. The ship was totally deactivated, so there was no pressure in the line. I had to brace myself against one of the coolant pipes and use a hand-pump to force the coolant into the bottle. It was sweaty work, and by the time I was on the third bottle I could feel the moisture pooling against the small of my back, sloshing against my pressure suit.


    That''s also when I noticed the oncoming disaster. I glanced at the board while hooking up the fourth and final bottle. Thanks to the ship''s crapola design the coolant line''s relief valve was a good six meters away from the board. But even from that distance I could see the core''s temperature climbing like the proverbial rocket. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I realized that the control rod indicators were broken. The rods weren''t fully inserted after all, and I''d just taken out most of the core''s coolant. Now the reaction in the core was skyrocketing, and within less than a minute it would melt down. Hell, it might even explode. Either way the drydock and everyone in it, myself included, would get a lethal dose of radiation.


    I started screaming into my suit radio, telling everyone to get the hell away from the drydock. There was no time to get the coolant pumped back in; I had only one option left. On the engine control panel there''s an emergency shutdown, sometimes called the ''scram'' button. It''s got a flip-up cover over it to prevent someone from accidentally pressing it, but once pressed it throws all of the control rods into the core and kills any reaction dead.


    There was no time to waste, I kicked against the wall behind me...and that was another of my screw-ups. In my defense I was amped up on adrenaline, but it was still a more forceful kick than needed. I flew across the compartment and crashed into the edge of the control panel hard enough to dislocate my shoulder. My legs cartwheeled around and slammed into a stanchion behind the panel.


    I nearly went tumbling away from the panel, but still managed to grab one edge. Of course my luck remained shit, because the scram button was on the other end of the panel from me. I flailed at the button with my injured arm, but my hand was still a good six inches away. I got ready to crawl up onto the panel and try again when...it happened.


    For a long time after I went back and forth about it. I tried to tell myself that it was a hallucination caused by stress, or some optical trick caused by my suit''s headlamp. But eventually I had to call bullshit on all that. I was staring right at the damn button with all my might and I know what I saw and...and what I heard.


    I saw the scram button''s cover flip open all on its own. I saw the button sink in as if pushed by an invisible finger. I saw the temperature gauges drop like a rock and I knew I was going to live after all.


    And then, amid the hiss of static from my radio, I swear I heard a faint voice.


    A woman, speaking with a strange accent.


    Time for us to go walkabout, Sheila.


    <hr>


    Jason was almost done with his second mug of not-cider but even so he felt more sober than before. "There''s not much to tell after that. They gave me a commendation for bravery and quick thinking, even though I''d done nothing. There was no way I was gonna tell ''em that some...ghost lady had saved us. That was a sure ticket to get sent back down the nearest elevator and permanently grounded. After my shoulder healed, I went and reapplied to the placement program. Now I had years of experience in space, not to mention my shiny new commendation, so this time I made it through."


    He stared into the fire. "So here I am."


    Karl was the first to speak. "[Friend [Jason], please forgive me if I offend you with this question. You see, sometimes when relating a parable or religious lesson [Karnakians] will put themselves into the story. It isn''t intended as a deception, but more as a way of making the lesson more relatable..."


    Jason laughed. "You want to know if I made it up? Or maybe put myself in a ghost story I heard?"


    The big raptor''s arm-feathers fluffed out as he made an apologetic shrug.


    "No worries, bud. It''s a fair question. That''s partly why I never told anyone about it. But you guys are my friends¡­and I don''t bullshit my friends."


    "[Thank you for your trust,]" said Henry. He sprawled out in something kind of like an infinity symbol as he tried to maximize his heat absorption from the fire. "[For what it''s worth, I want it to be true.]"


    "[Really?]" asked Gertie. "[Hmm, I suppose I see your point. The thought of someone doing their duty and helping their packmates even after their death...yes, it''s an appealing idea.]"


    "[The story is still unsettling, though.]" added Karl. "[Why did that poor woman''s spirit remain in the ship? Why wasn''t her spirit at rest?]"


    "Because Sheila was still intact."


    The three aliens looked at Jason as if he''d sprouted an extra head. "[[Sheila]...you mean...the engine?]" asked Henry, his hood set in the Jornissian version of a raised eyebrow.


    "That''s what I tell myself, at least. Like Sousa said, she and the engine were mates through and through. As long as it was there, so was she. Right until the very end."


    Karl''s throat worked as if he''d just tried to swallow a rhinoceros whole. "[But that was an engine. It had no soul!]"


    Jason waggled his mug playfully at the Karnakian. "Remember the punchline of your story? Maybe there''s ''souls'' in inanimate objects. Or maybe we imbue ourselves into them and give them life, of a sort. I dunno. In either case, I''ve had way too much to drink and I should get some sleep."


    "[Yes...sleep. Sleep is good,]" said Gertie, in a tone which indicated she was not getting any sleep for the forseeable future.


    <hr>


    "[?Error#%#@(possible excrement term)?!yerfiddnonmuhfeff!]"


    Kn''na''''nan blinked his eyes as he awoke, then realized with something akin to fright that while he slept he''d unconsciously started roosting on his little-needs-protecting shipmate. Gngnra''s white-furred body pressed against the two of them while Hn''narnatnss coiled up on the other side of the cuddle-pile.


    "|Sorry, friend [Jason]!|" He shifted away to allow the little-needs-protecting to breathe.


    [Jason] spat out a few bits of Kn''na''''nan¡¯s underfluff. "[That''s okay, it just got kinda hard to breathe there all of a sudden.]"


    The four of them untangled themselves and began packing up for the next leg of their hike. Daylight streamed down through among the giant spear-like growths which passed for trees on this planet, and to Kn''na''''nan the fact that he could see almost to the horizon was a cause for joy. It was almost as if the unsettling stories of the night before had never occurred.


    What did not cause the Karnakian joy was the sight of [Jason] hoisting his pack onto his shoulders. [Jason] kept insisting that it was a reasonable weight, but to Kn''na''''nan it looked like the little-needs-protecting was always on the verge of toppling over.


    "[Going to make it all the way this time, [Jason]?" asked Gngnra with a cheeky waggle of her ears.


    "[Oh har dee har har. Not my fault y''all got such long legs.]"


    "[I don''t have legs,]" said Hn''narnatnss with a touch of smugness.


    "[Are you kidding? You''re just one big leg!]"


    Kn''na''''nan would never say it aloud, but he hoped that [Jason] would indeed tire during the day''s travels. Two days before, the Karnakian had gotten the chance to let the little-needs-protecting ride on his back and as far as he was concerned that had been the best day of his life.


    But for the moment [Jason] looked fully rested as he wobbled off down the trail, the top of his pack sticking far up above his head. Hn''narnatnss slithered after him, keeping his pace to the slower norm set by [Jason].


    Gngnra paused before she set off after them. "[How''d you sleep?]" she asked Kn''na''''nan.


    The Karnakian held up one hand and rocked it from side-to-side in the universal sign for ''not so great''. "|How about you?|"


    "[I had troubled dreams. For the first time in a long time.]"


    "|Me as well. [Hn''narnatnss] also looked tired. But [Jason] seems fine.|"


    "[Why am I not surprised?]" Gngnra shook her head. "[Scary stories at night. What a silly [human] ritual.]"


    Kn''na''''nan stared at the retreating figure of his small crewmate. "|No. Not silly. We must make sure to make friends with the little-needs-protectings.|"


    Gngnra cocked her head. "[But we''re already friends.]"


    "|Not yet. Yes, we''ve made friends with individuals like [Jason]. But to the vast majority of them we''re more like¡­allies. We must be more than that, for our own sake. We need to know that the little-needs-protectings have our back, as they say.|"


    The pair set off down the trail after their comrades while Gngnra pondered. Finally she asked. "[Why do you think so?]"


    Kn''na''''nan waved a claw at the vast blue sky overhead. "|The universe is vast beyond our understanding. We might encounter horrors out there that would cause you or I or even Hn''narnatnss to curl up and pray for death. But [Jason]? He''ll just laugh in what passes for that horror''s face and declare that he''s heard scarier stuff while drinking with friends by a campfire.]"