《The Bloodlet Sun》


 Book I, Chapter 1, Part 1/3

    Chapter 1


    Mikarik


    The thrum of the ship as it skidded along the surface of subspace would have chased most into their stasis pods for the duration of the journey. For Mikarik, it was the sound of home, of a reprieve from responsibilities or the unforeseen twists that life had such an unpleasant habit of delivering. It was the pause between the times when choices needed to be made and when decisions mattered.


    He never understood those who crawled into their pod the moment they came aboard, and went into an empty sleep that terminated days, weeks and sometimes months later, after the ship had already safely docked at the end of the journey. Granted, they banked some of that time, it being generally believed that one ages at only one-third the regular rate while in stasis, but were a few meager years at the end of one¡¯s life really worth the wasted opportunities?


    Mikarik slept only when he was tired, retiring for his usual fourteen-hour sleep cycle, without any regard for how his biological clock would end up needing to be calibrated when he arrived. The destination always had its own rhythms. Its own time and length of day, its own peak of activity whether it was high noon or the dead of night or the temperate spaces of dawn and dusk where it neither threatened to freeze you nor boil you alive.


    And in between the inconveniences of having to replenish his energy, he ate, and read and wandered whichever sections of the ship where not closed to the public. Encounters with others were usually scarce, as most preferred the get-it-over-with option of submitting to near-death.


    Sometimes he spent days without interacting with a single sentient, but he was rarely alone for long. Though few shared his appetite for an entirely solitary and wakeful journey, others often woke up along the way and depending entirely on their personality and Mikarik¡¯s moods, provided welcome company.


    The long-haul passenger cruiser he currently found himself on, and likely the penultimate trip he would ever undertake, had left Vaparozh three months prior, and would be docking in orbit above Earth in less than a week. It was one of the longest voyages Mikarik had undertaken, and even he felt as though he was on the verge of going stir crazy. Like all ships built on Vaparozh, it was structured to accommodate their strictly gender-segregated yet somehow austerely egalitarian culture, with one dining hall for the males, one for the females, and a small and run-down hall, where Mikarik spent most of his days, for those passengers that came from barbaric cultures that allowed their genders to co-mingle during such holy rites as eating and sleeping.


    He had been largely alone for over a week, as even restless travelers preferred to catch up on sleep just prior to their destination, which left him plenty of time to aggressively tap his pen against a blank page in his notebook and summon words that refused to do his bidding. He thought he was being amusing when he chose posing as a poet as his cover for the trip. Instead, he unwittingly subjected himself to a frustration he hadn¡¯t felt since spending weeks pretending to be helpless and adrift in orbits of rocky moons waiting for pirates to strike.


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    He expected no more company for the remainder of the flight when a very groggy and disheveled Mraboran female entered the hall and appeared either startled or confused to find him there.


    ¡°Good morning. Please, don¡¯t mind me,¡± Mikarik said in Trade Thorian as the Mraboran ran her hand through the tangled fur on her forehead, clearing it out of her golden eyes.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect anyone else to be up.¡± She responded in fluent Thorian that betrayed the barest hint of an accent.


    ¡°Neither did I, but here we both are.¡± He switched to his own native tongue and watched her through the bottom of his glass of water. She walked over to the food dispenser, which served slim pickings after a long-haul flight where most passengers were expected to forgo eating in favour of stasis, and poured hot water into a cup of something fragrant. Nothing Mraboran as far as he could tell, a floral scent he couldn¡¯t identify.


    She must have caught him sniffing. ¡°Chamomile.¡± And after this elicited no reaction added, ¡°It¡¯s from Earth.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± He¡¯d encountered humans before and was vaguely familiar with them, but they weren¡¯t so eclectic that he would have any exposure to their cuisine.


    Between the fluent Thorian and the human tea, this Mraboran seemed to go out of her way to show him how cosmopolitan she was. He scratched a couple of words in his notebook, as she took a seat across from him and watched him over her mug, inhaling its vapours.


    To the untrained eye, there was no discernible difference between Mraboran males and females. Both were covered with the same short sleek fur that ranged from dusty blonde to a shimmering copper, and both had the same sonorant voices with the slightest hint of a hiss. And while females were marginally more partial to using belts to strap their tails to their body, their clothing was generally unisex. But Mikarik had worked and lived among enough Mraborans to know that the key lay in the eyes. Males looked at you with a round dumb expression that was perpetually surprised. The females¡¯ eyes were narrow and calculating and constantly sized you up as potential prey. Even hundreds of light-years from home there was no getting away from evolutionary biology.


    ¡°You should try it, helps you get back to sleep when you¡¯re knocked out,¡± she suggested after taking a long sip from her mug of chamomile tea.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get knocked out,¡± Mikarik responded without lifting his eyes off the page.


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t get knocked out if you never go in.¡±


    She put her mug down then and drew out a long ¡°Really?¡± Doesn¡¯t matter how fluent they are, they fall back into purring whenever they encounter the throaty ¡°r¡± of the Thorian language, one of the reasons why it¡¯s dropped in Trade Thorian. ¡°Sounds tedious.¡±


    ¡°Pretty quiet, actually.¡± He put his pen down and his eyes met hers. He was at an advantage there, with his mostly shaded by his implanted glasses. The Vaparozh sun was a scorching ball of yellow flame even brighter than most of the suns of the habitable worlds, a stark contrast to the dim red glow on the Thorian homeworld of Kai Thori. He spent the first week of the journey trying to find a way to dim the lights and eventually gave up, ending most of his days with a headache.

 Book I, Chapter 1, Part 2/3

    The Mraboran smiled, revealing the barest hint of two sharp canines. ¡°Long time to be awake.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had longer,¡± Mikarik lied; now was as good a time as any to practice.


    ¡°Really?¡± That purr again. ¡°I would probably go crazy being up all by myself.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s got you up now?¡±


    ¡°Got knocked out. Always do. Any time we get close to a destination I start getting dreams that we¡¯re headed straight for a star. Only way to get rid of them is to get up and make sure the ship¡¯s not melting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d prefer sleeping right through that, personally, you know, just in case it was true and I could avoid dying painfully.¡±


    ¡°Being all by yourself for three months sounds a lot like dying painfully to me.¡±


    ¡°Well you know what they say, a Thorian¡¯s got time to spare.¡± The ¡°they¡± of course were only Thorians who lorded their longer lifespans over almost every other sentient species. He loathed when other Thorians did it, but accepted that hypocrisy and self-loathing go hand-in-hand.


    Those narrow feline eyes flashed at him with a lack of patience and she pulled a personal computer tablet out of a pouch on her belt and turned her attention to that. Mikarik turned back to his notebook, to agonize over synonyms and metaphors and scratch at the three cranial bumps running down his forehead, vestiges of a time when Thorian males slammed their heads together as a means of winning favour of unimpressed females. Every Thorian with the exception of his mother had mentioned to him how small his were, and many suggested how easy it would be to cave his skull in with a single slam, despite the fact that anyone who would be even remotely impressed by this display would be fellow brick-heads. Few had actually tried, and of those that did, none tried more than once. At least for this reason, he was quite pleased by them, even if they did itch something fierce whenever his mind was particularly preoccupied.


    Three months he had been at it, and this was his fourth notebook, and every day he thought he was making progress until he read his writing the following day and convinced himself he had the eloquence of a toddler. In that respect, at least, he felt like a true writer. These efforts were difficult enough, but feeling her glance at him every couple of minutes didn¡¯t help.


    She let out a sharp huff, exaggerating the scintillating nature of whatever it was she had read, and then leaned forward in her chair. ¡°So you¡¯re an awfully long way from home for a Thorian.¡±


    Mikarik tapped his pen on the page a few times. ¡°Any further and I¡¯d end up in Dead Space.¡±


    ¡°I suppose so,¡± she laughed. ¡°This is my first time this far out.¡± She left open a silence that he refused to fill, preoccupied by the pages even though he hadn¡¯t written or read anything in a while. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll need to get used to it though. My new diplomatic post is for five years, and then who knows.¡±


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    ¡°Five years among Humans?¡± He looked at her then, a single canine poking out from a fuzzy lip. ¡°Who did you have to kill to deserve that fate?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Humans are all that bad, especially once you get to know them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it. I find them too ¡­ twitchy, unpredictable. They haven¡¯t quite figured themselves out yet, so how am supposed to make anything of them?¡±


    ¡°Harsh words for someone travelling to their homeworld. So what does bring you out to these parts?¡±


    He squinted at her with his green eyes, something she would have seen even through the glasses and said, ¡°You¡¯ll laugh.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    He told, her. She laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I thought Thorians didn¡¯t do poetry.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard the common misconception.¡±


    ¡°Something about you not being able to do metaphors?¡±


    ¡°Maybe not in the same way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I remember now. You can¡¯t combine things with certain adjectives. Like you can¡¯t say uhh,¡± her hand went behind her head, giving it a satisfying scratch.


    ¡°Angry wind.¡± They said in unison, though Mikarik¡¯s outburst was far less enthused. He wasn¡¯t particularly keen on how many times this has been quoted to him, an inclusion in some two-bit traveller¡¯s guide that got reprinted across every corner of the Known Reaches. Funny how most of them didn¡¯t bother to include the other little tidbit that he was about to spring on the Mraboran.


    ¡°It¡¯s true, we don¡¯t personify things.¡± Technically they didn¡¯t personify anything other than Thorians. Even the Mraboran¡¯s use of ¡°I¡± was grating to Mikarik¡¯s ears. ¡°But we have plenty of adjectives that serve their unique purposes.¡±


    ¡°Why do I have a sense that you have one up your sleeve already?¡±


    Mikarik permitted himself a smile and leaned back in his chair. ¡°Clearly I¡¯m becoming predictable. But one word I¡¯ve always liked is ¡®netkarthai¡¯. Hard to translate, harder still to understand. But it means something along the lines of ¡°invoking a fear that one will never hear their loved ones again¡±. It also formed the basis of the word ¡®netkarthi¡¯, one of the many words of varying levels of derision that were used to describe the ¡°severed¡± ¨C those who were deaf to the hive empathy of the Thorians. Just speaking the word put a dark shroud around the room that flooded into Mikarik¡¯s mind. This focused darkness is what he used to make the reckless decisions that gave him his medals and battle scars.


    ¡°Well that certainly is ominous,¡± she responded after chewing on the word for a bit. ¡°Sounds like you might be finding a lot of that this far from home.¡±


    ?


    ¡°That¡¯s the hope.¡± He responded and turned back to his notepad, still sensing her eyes refusing to release him.

 Book I, Chapter 1, Part 3/3

    ¡°So, poet,¡± the Mraboran said, sliding her tablet across the table towards him. ¡°What do you make of this?¡±


    And speaking of being severed. Had Mikarik been tuned in to the general mood of his species like most other Thorians were, he would have sensed something grand brewing and would have at least tuned into the news out of the sheer overwhelming curiosity. But in his quiet bubble, the headline displayed on the tablet caught him entirely unawares. ¡°Thorian occupation of Krevali enters third week.¡±


    Despite himself, Mikarik was smirking. ¡°Well isn¡¯t that something.¡±


    The Mraboran¡¯s eyes had seemed to darken, she was scrutinizing him carefully. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± She asked coolly. ¡°Leave it to the Thorians to arrange for the end of an era to come crashing down.¡±


    Mikarik plucked at the tablet and a dozen articles were projected in front of his face. He scrolled quickly through them, catching headlines and bylines from Thorian, Mraboran, Hatvan news sources and beyond. The Thorians haven¡¯t invaded a non-space faring world since the early days of the Empire and he experienced that rare feeling where he itched to tap into the general mood.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve already purged the government,¡± he commented as pages whipped by him. ¡°At least it looks like the Anthar Kai won¡¯t be getting their hands on it.¡±


    ¡°So what do you think?¡± She finally asked as he pursed his lips staring up at the information in front of him.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ surprised.¡± He allowed himself a moment of honesty. ¡°It¡¯s so .. brazen.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you would think ¨C¡±


    ¡°That after the Last Gasp we didn¡¯t have it in us?¡± He pierced her from behind his sunglasses, then looked up at the articles again. ¡°No, this is clearly a very loud message to not number the last days of the Empire. Unfortunately for the Krevali, they were the ones made into that message.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I should at least be happy that I¡¯m all the way out here and not in the thick of it.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure.¡± Mikarik plucked an article and magnified it before spinning it her way, the headline announced that ORC is amassing its forces in in nearby Iastret space and is considering sending it to patrol Krevali¡¯s neighbouring inhabited worlds. The fur on the Mraboran¡¯s cheeks collapsed a bit. ¡°See, I told you, humans are twitchy.¡± He clicked off all the articles and slid the tablet back to her. ¡°So my condolences.¡±


    ¡°And this is what I don¡¯t understand. What would the Thorians even expect out of this? You have it right there in front of you, even Anthar Kai and the ORC are thumping on their door,¡± she said.


    ¡°There¡¯s a whole door of difference between thumping on a door and breaking through. This is a pretty obvious invitation for some thumping.¡±


    ¡°But surely there was some far Vaparozh colony that would have been enough. To do this to the Krevali ¡­¡± She trailed off as if leaving him room to either agree or disagree. He knew what this was, although the feeling was foreign to him, this invitation for empathy for sentient beings who were not Thorian. It seemed to come easily to all the other species, this manufactured idea of a level of equality. It was a weakness that had allowed the Empire to grow and consume more than a third of the Known Reaches.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Mikarik said, ¡°I don¡¯t presume to speak for the infinite wisdom of the handpicked lunatics of the Imperial Senate, and it¡¯s not like I¡¯m exactly on speaking terms with my own people, but my advice would be to never underestimate the danger of a cornered animal.¡±


    The Mraboran let out a short surprised growl.


    ¡°What?¡± Mikarik asked.


    ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve met a Thorian who spoke out against anything the Empire did.¡±


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    ¡°Maybe you haven¡¯t met enough Thorians.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think I¡¯ve met enough.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too.¡±


    This time it was her turn to avoid his gaze and she stared into what he presumed was an empty mug as he tapped his pen on the table.


    ¡°Did you enjoy your tea?¡± He finally asked.


    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± she rose from the table. ¡°I¡¯d recommend you go find some planet-side.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to do that.¡± He gave a small nod and watched her head for the door. As she put her hand on it, she turned her head in his direction with a smile that only revealed her canines.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll see you around, poet.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d heard him before the door closed behind behind her as he was left alone for the last time.


    The dining hall was now filled with nothing but the hum of the ship, which left an uncomfortable amount of room for Mikarik¡¯s thoughts. The articles must have beamed out about a week ago, which means it had been at least three weeks since the invasion; three weeks since he should have sensed the first ripple of excitement in the Thorian empathic consciousness, which would have swelled to near euphoria as the news spread around the Empire. Joy at the prospect of the return of the glory days, joy at the expansion of the Empire, which meant more living space, more Thorians, and therefore more voices to raise the mood of the species. Instead the inside of his head felt like the dead of space. Supposedly it was how all other sentients felt like, completely disconnected from other members of their race, trying to yoke their distinct individuality together for common goals. The enemies of the Empire, which, for all practical aspects, was everyone who was not the Empire, used this to stoke fear of the Thorians, arguing that experiencing collective empathy created an arrogance that by extension deemed all others inferior. And though he conceded that there was truth to this suspicion, he felt, in whatever atrophied organ that didn¡¯t allow him to tap into it, that it was the most noble trait possessed by any species yet encountered.


    He poked around in the silence, like he always did whenever he faced his deficiency so starkly, but any mood he found was entirely his own, and largely influenced by the Mraboran.


    During the whole conversation, her tail stayed perfectly still, which everyone knew was a sign that a Mraboran is lying. That is, everyone, but the other ¡°everyone¡± who knew that a Mraboran¡¯s tail twitches every time they lie. Same goes for whether their ears are completely flat against their head or poke out ever so slightly, and whether they¡¯re mostly showing their left or right canines. There¡¯s often a lot riding on whether a Mraboran is telling the truth or not, and despite the high stakes, no one has been able to crack it. Mikarik had his own theories, though none particularly sound. What was obvious to him was that she was sent to speak to him by one of his handlers, but which one? It hardly mattered now and would likely be about three months when it wouldn¡¯t matter at all.


    In the meantime, he had about a week left to torment his notebook until he arrived on Earth, after which another couple of hops and skips were supposed to lead him to the to the human colony where his trail was going to go cold. He wondered what to do with his completed notebooks. Perhaps, he could drop them off at a courier and ship them to his mother. Should only take about a half year to get there.


    If all went according to plan, and by all accounts it should have because he was due, within a month he would boarding the research vessel Forseti in his new role, a Thorian traitor to the Empire.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 1/8

    Chapter 2


    Kviye


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m telling you this, but I have something for you here.¡±


    The call had woken Kviye up, and only a hint of blue light was streaming in through the window, but even through the sleepy fog, Kviye realized immediately what Valyen was talking about and sat up in bed.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Kviye asked, peaking through the window to see if the skiff was parked outside.


    ¡°They said it was completely spent and still charged me three thousand for it.¡±


    ¡°Three?¡± She had to admit the price made her hesitate, for the briefest moment; with her father not using the skiff, she might actually have it in her hands within hours. ¡°I really owe you one Valyen.¡±


    ¡°Yeah you do. Three thousand, like I said.¡± Valyen may have had her reasons to be short, yet Kviye knew if anyone would let her take however long she needed to pay them back without interest, it would be Valyen. ¡°Now get this thing off my hands before I change my mind and toss it in the river.¡±


    Valyen¡¯s voice on the line sounded distant; likely storms brewing over the marsh flats, which would slow her flight, so she wasted no time and was already putting on her clothes as she answered, ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a couple.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± There was a pause before Valyen finally dropped the call, during which Kviye could almost feel the pain on the other end of the line, but any sympathy she felt for Valyen was drowned by her own excitement. Valyen made no secret of the fact that she thought Kviye¡¯s plan was stupid, and that it would probably kill her, and frequently voiced her displeasure at Kviye¡¯s unwavering commitment to her idea. And even though Kviye respected the concerns of her oldest and closest friend, by her estimation, this should have been the last piece she needed to answer a question that had preoccupied her ever since she could remember.


    ---


    Kviye walked along soft damp earth in the direction of the skiff¡¯s hangar. Shreds of mist rolled across the fields outside their house as unseen creatures chattered from dense shrubs and sang their morning song. The whole world was drowned in shades of green and blue, including the exterior of the hangar, which had grown slick with moss, and Kviye promised, probably for the tenth time, that she would clean it when she had a spare minute. The only exception was the skiff itself, which strikingly stood out in its dull silver sheen, a metal bird with a flat bill and wide behind, two narrow wings tucked at its sides. There were only two such skiffs in her town, among no more than a couple of dozen left spread across the whole moon, with this one having been in her family for generations.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Her father was likely in town, starting the morning early in search for new jobs. The day in Zhakitrinbur, on the other hand, was already in full swing. Not that Valyen was ever one to have much consideration for the time difference, but waking Kviye up before dawn meant that she may have been serious about changing her mind any minute and trashing Kviye¡¯s prize before she got a chance to get her hands on it, so she picked up her pace even as her boots sank into the ground.


    She could have called up her father and let him know she was taking the skiff out on the off-chance some rush job came in that couldn¡¯t wait for her to bring it back in. Unlike Valyen, though, he hadn¡¯t been aware of her plans beyond the mere suggestion of a hopeless dream, so explaining why she had to jet to Zhakitrinbur on such short notice would have invited too many unwanted questions.


    Kviye¡¯s father had always had a persnickety approach to the business, even though it was her mother, who was raised from childhood to be a pilot, who was the one that made the difficult last-minute decisions to make sure cargo and skiff arrived on time and in one piece. Kviye¡¯s father was perfectly content to stay on the ground. What he had trouble with, was dealing with the lack of control, so he threw his energies into meticulous ledgers that grew like voracious fungus in his office and around his desk and led to more than one argument between her parents about flight schedules and route efficiencies. After her mother had died, and Kviye took over as pilot, her father had no longer kept as much of a watchful eye on the details and numbers, and seemed merely content that his daughter returned safely after every flight rather than get into the sporting rivalry he seemed to have carried on with his spouse. Trade between the three major cities on the moon was fairly sparse, especially during the stormy season and passengers infrequently needed a ride to some remote destination that would justify paying for a skiff flight. Any business was good business these days, and she hoped it would be a slow morning, because even she would have a hard time facing her father over a lost fare.


    The dew coalesced and dripped off the skiff¡¯s access ramp as it lowered towards the hangar floor. Kviye walked up into the cargo hold that took up most of the area inside the ship. These days, it had been mostly stripped bare, save for a few seats for passengers, while the rest was allotted for cargo. The hold below was also mostly empty, though she observed that its configuration and wall paneling was markedly different from the other storage space, leading her to suspect it was once suited for some other purpose. As she walked towards the cockpit she imagined most of the area taken up by seats, her ancestors huddled together side-by-side as the ship hurtled them across lightyears from their home towards dark unknown reaches of space. At least, unknown then, and now known to her and her people, the only world they knew even though a great busy universe was bustling next door to them.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 2/8

    As Kviye made her way up the ladder and into the passage that led towards the cockpit, she was hit with the same familiar smell ¨C of getting tucked in at bedtime, of breakfast around the table in the early blue light of dawn as her mother readied to go on a flight, of evenings spent reading or tinkering with spare parts by lamplight. It was the smell of her mother, and after all these years this space still exuded it. In all likelihood, it was her mother who had actually soaked up the ancient smells of the skiff, but Kviye pushed away this truth in favour of her mother¡¯s presence lingering here after all these years, watching over Kviye, ready to guide her through the flight she was about to undertake.


    The skiff¡¯s engine purred to life, only a high-pitched whine and vibrations in her feet indicating it was on. She gently lifted the ship off the ground and out of the hangar, and then having pointed the nose to her destination, initiated the throttle and shot above the landscape.


    Lakes and crisscrossing streams zipped by underfoot as she slowly gained altitude to get above the storm whose edges she could already see on the horizon. Within fifteen minutes, all that lay below were cobalt churning clouds pressing down on the marshes where even the soil would ripple in waves from the wind. The cabin of the skiff shuddered and she brought it up even higher.


    The previous year, she attempted to prove her theory and tested the limits of the skiff¡¯s ability. She brought it up higher than she ever had, higher than the altitude her mother had warned her never to try rise above, a rather specific number that made Kviye wonder as to the origins of its calculation, and just when she thought everything she heard was simply an old fable designed to keep hearts rooted firmly to the ground, the ship stalled and she made it halfway to the surface before regaining control, telling of her failed experiment to no one but Valyen. Even with that knowledge, Valyen still procured the part for her, and if it worked the way Kviye expected, then the next time she made the attempt, she should be able to take the skiff out of the atmosphere and make it one step closer to proving that it was these ships that were what brought her ancestors here from somewhere out there; the birthplace of humanity.


    Once the storm cleared, she was already past the marshes, and entering the drier hilly grasslands on the south side of their small continent. She lowered the ship closer to the ground, observing the small moving dots of the massive four-legged creatures that grazed these parts undisturbed by their human neighbours. There were only two rivers that meandered through these valleys, the occasional white blemishes of human settlements jutting off to the side. Kviye wondered how everyone that below was so content to assume they had always been there, that there was no other home than this small moon circling a grey gas giant. ¡°Where had they come from?¡± was a question that not only didn¡¯t have an answer, but no askers as well. Valyen¡¯s response had always been ¡°why do you care?¡± and even her mother couldn¡¯t provide her with anything satisfactory.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Kviye had brought it up about ten years earlier, before her mother had fallen sick with the grey, when her parents decided she was old enough to learn the family business and she started accompanying her mother on her flights as co-pilot.


    ¡°Ma, so how old is this skiff anyway?¡± Kviye had asked, running her hand over the main console, her fingers tracing buttons that had probably long lost their original colour.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± her mother answered, not taking her eyes off the view outside. ¡°It must¡¯ve been in our family for, well, at least a hundred generations.¡±


    Kviye sighed. ¡°Yes, but who built it?¡±


    ¡°Someone who knew what they were doing.¡± Her mother smiled, and then gently tapped one of the displays on the console. ¡°Hey, are you going to watch that gauge?¡± Kviye had snapped out of her daydream, about the ancestors that must have built the skiffs and taken their secrets with them, and pressed a lever to correct the ship¡¯s vibration before the turbulence had truly kicked in.


    It was the same gauge that was bothering her now, and she corrected for the strong winds coming off the sea. The pale walls of Zhakitrinbur glimmered in the distance, nestled against a vast ocean that contained nothing but the opposite side of their continent. Her and Valyen had spent many evenings of their childhood lying on the rooftop of Valyen¡¯s family¡¯s garage staring out over the dark expanse of water, with the perforated black blanket of sky overhead. Valyen had wondered about what lands may lie beyond the horizon, and while she gradually accepted the fact that the only land peaking above the waves on the moon was theirs and had turned her thoughts inward, to the garage downstairs and her growing list of responsibilities, Kviye¡¯s own questions instead grew until their enormity dwarfed her life on Tanfana and threatened to push her from the shrunken rock.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 3/8

    Kviye took the skiff in a wide arc over the city, and landed it on one of the launch pads outside Valyen¡¯s family¡¯s garage. While she cut the engine and confirmed everything was in order, Valyen stepped outside and squinted in the light of the afternoon sun. She did not have the expression Kviye was hoping to see after a six-week separation, and Valyen took what appeared to be an angry bite out of her sandwich before heading around to greet Kviye at the loading ramp.


    Once Kviye stepped onto solid ground with her arms open, Valyen relented, grumpily returning the hug, her sandwich still in hand and pressed against Kviye¡¯s back.


    ¡°It¡¯s really good to see you, Val,¡± Kviye said after releasing her friend.


    ¡°Is it? Could have fooled me.¡± Valyen chomped into her sandwich for another sour-looking bite.


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry, I should have tried to visit more. We¡¯ve had a very busy season, but we¡¯re doing well enough that we might not have to spend next winter in the marshlands at all, so that has to be worth something right?¡±


    Valyen tried to maintain her dour look, though her voice softened at that. ¡°You better mean it this time. We could use a pair of hands like yours around here.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t have to miss my sunny presence, either.¡± Kviye smiled and made an open gesture with her hands.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not so sure about that. Can¡¯t say that I¡¯m that happy to ¨C you just want to see it don¡¯t you?¡±


    A guilty smile spread over Kviye¡¯s face. ¡°I may be dying, yes.¡±


    Valyen rolled her eyes and grunted, ¡°Fine, let me show you.¡± Kviye followed her friend into the garage, and now that they were side by side she could see the long healing gash running from Valyen¡¯s shoulder to her elbow. Against Valen¡¯s creamy pale skin, common on this side of the continent though differing from the warm slightly brassy tones of Kviye and her family, and generally those who traced their ancestry mainly to Vingu and its environs, the cut looked even worse than she had imagined, the pink still an angry bright shade around the scab. Kviye raised her hand to touch it, but stopped shy of Valyen¡¯s arm.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would look this bad.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Valyen glanced briefly down at her arm and scoffed. ¡°You should have seen it when it happened.¡±


    ¡°I kind of wish I had.¡±


    ¡°I still haven¡¯t gotten all the stains out of my jacket. There was so much blood I thought I was going to pass out. Instead, I just tied this dirty rag around the wound and tried to keep working, pretty sure that was my brain going funny from blood loss. Adri found me and smacked some sense into me, and then patched me up pretty well. Can hardly feel it anymore. Didn¡¯t even have to go to the doctor.¡±


    ¡°Where is Adri anyway, I was hoping to see him.¡±


    ¡°Today isn¡¯t one of his good days.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s doing well enough all things considered. It seems to be progressing slowly in him.¡± Valyen stopped by her desk in the little recessed office in the back of the garage, and pulled out a heavy case from underneath. ¡±Anyway. I¡¯m still not sure why I¡¯m doing this, but here it is.¡± She threw open the case, and revealed the single black sphere sitting inside.


    Kviye carefully pulled it out and held it to the light between her thumb and index finger. The solid sphere not only did not allow any light to pass through, but rather seemed to bend it and swallow it, as if the ball, no larger than her pinky nail, was surrounded by a shadowy halo.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. Where did you get it from?¡± Kviye asked without ever turning her eyes away from the orb.


    ¡°Picked up from an Iastret research vessel,¡± Valyen responded, moving around some items on the table purposefully not looking at the increasingly intense look in Kviye¡¯s eyes. ¡°They needed some repairs, and some more grant money, so I guess it worked out quite well for them in the end.¡±


    ¡°Iastret? Are those the bird people?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they like being called ¡®bird people¡¯, but yes, the bird people.¡±


    ¡°Are they still here? I was hoping to talk to them and see how it was used.¡±


    ¡°They were only here a few days, and took off a couple of weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°A couple weeks?¡± Kviye asked indignantly. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner?¡±


    ¡°I told you, I wasn¡¯t sure if I even wanted to give it to you. I¡¯m not joking when I say I walked it over to the river twice, fully intent on throwing my three thousand in the water.¡±


    ¡°So what finally made you decide to call me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and don¡¯t ask me or I¡¯ll snatch that thing from you and march right down to the river again.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯m glad you did.¡± Kviye took her eyes off the little black drop long enough to give her friend a thankful smile. ¡°The little grains I¡¯ve collected so far haven¡¯t been able to properly power that auxiliary reactor or whatever it is, but this ¡­¡±


    ¡°You think this one might be big enough?¡±


    ¡°Not by itself, no. If it had been, they would¡¯ve asked for way more, even for a spent one. If I could augment it with the others, it should serve the same function as a much bigger piece.¡±


    ¡°I still feel like it¡¯s bolting a rocket engine to a bathtub. Those things were never meant to go to space, Kvee.¡± Valyen shook her head.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± annoyance and understanding fought for control of Kviye¡¯s tone. ¡°You know I need to find this out for myself.¡±


    ¡°I know it, but I don¡¯t get it.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 4/8

    Kviye sighed and palmed the sphere. ¡°Remember when we were little and would clamber up on the roof and watch the night sky together, and I would always try to guess which star was ours until you threatened to shove me off the roof? That question never left me, Val. I think that¡¯s why father does most of his business out of Vingu now, because it¡¯s cloudy all the time I almost never see the stars. You and my dad should talk sometime. He¡¯d like nothing more than to tie me to a stake hammered into the ground, too.¡± Valyen tried to interject but Kviye stopped her and put the little black ball up to the ceiling light. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t matter though, I know they¡¯re there, and they keep calling. It¡¯s my sickness to deal with, so let me try this cure.¡±


    Valyen picked up the tool she was fiddling with and walked over to place it on a shelf. She slowly took a deep breath, and looked for something else on her desk that she could rearrange while Kviye remained hypnotized by the ball between her fingers.


    ¡°And let¡¯s say this works,¡± Valyen said, ¡°and somehow you find out that we came from somewhere else. Then what? I mean think about it. No other Humans have ever visited Tanfana. If we did come from somewhere else, where are we now? For all you know, we¡¯re the last ones left, that we¡¯re all we have. What¡¯re you going to do with that knowledge? How is that going to help you find home?¡±


    ¡°This has never been about finding home, Val,¡± Kviye replied, the hurt seeping into her voice. Valyen had always taken her dreams personally, and each of their arguments felt like an accusation that Kviye did not care enough. ¡°I know where my home is. Just like I¡¯m sure anyone who passes through here has a strong connection to whatever rock they¡¯d grown up on. But they¡¯re out here playing a role in something bigger ¨C a wider home. We know there¡¯s a great big world whose edge we¡¯re floating on and who¡¯s to say there¡¯s not already a place out there for us?¡±


    Valyen let out an exasperated sigh, saying nothing and idly fingering a greasy wrench.


    ¡°So, you want to head out there and help me install this thing?¡±


    Valyen¡¯s eyebrows nearly shot off her face. ¡°Now? And, I¡¯m sorry, you think I¡¯m actually going to help you with this foolishness?¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Kviye said, slipping the ball into her pocket. ¡°I can either go out there and do this all alone or you can help me and make sure I don¡¯t blow myself up, okay?¡± And, without waiting for a reply, she went out of the garage.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re not exactly making me feel better about any of this,¡± Valyen grumbled, but grabbed her work jacket, and followed.


    ---


    It was late into the afternoon when Kviye truly felt that she was close, that it was this precise configuration of spheres that would accomplish what she intended, and that she just needed to find that imperceptible movement that would lock them into place. Valyen¡¯s help mostly came in the form of moral support through impatient tongue-clicking and sarcastic grunting. On more than one occasion, she expressed her displeasure at the fact that the process seemed to her more art than science, which according to Valyen was entirely misplaced when approaching a poorly-understood part of the skiff that had the capability of blowing the whole ship up on a whim.


    ¡°Why are you so sure you know what you¡¯re doing?¡± Valyen asked, looking over Kviye¡¯s shoulder, who had her tongue sandwiched firmly between her lips as the worked the array into place.


    ¡°I¡¯m not, but I think that¡¯s kind of the point.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to give me a bit more here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any more to give you, and I swear I¡¯d explain it if I could.¡± Kviye¡¯s fingers slipped and the larger of the spheres dropped to the bottom of the reactor with a louder thud than its diminutive size would have suggested. At least, Kviye had assumed it was some kind of reactor. Had Valyen known the full string of assumptions that led Kviye to that day, Kviye expected she would have clocked her over the head with a wrench and strapped her to a chair in the garage so that she couldn¡¯t escape.


    The particular piece of the skiff¡¯s equipment that she was working on continued to puzzle Kviye. She had found it in the engine room by pure chance, trying to trace the source of a leak to an innocuous wall panel that had been sealed off centuries before her and revealed a device far more elaborate than she expected. By its configuration, it appeared to her to be some kind of support system for the engines. There was a whole host of connections that had once been intended for the engines but that at one point had been severed, while other connections led to dead ends near the ship¡¯s hull, and whatever they may or may not have originally connected to had been completely erased from the ship¡¯s memory. There had been no manual for the skiff, and her mother left no instructions, though Kviye suspected that it was more than likely that even her mother hadn¡¯t known about the device. The empty chamber that she was currently working on, however, did bare an uncanny resemblance to parts on alien ships that she occasionally serviced alongside Valyen, and which were used as a type of auxiliary reactor for their faster-than-light engines, each equipped with a sphere similar to the one that she received from Valyen. But even rerouting all available power to this ¡®reactor¡¯ had only given them a small burst of energy, a miscalculation that had almost led to the disastrous end to her last attempted spaceflight.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 5/8

    Kviye scooped up the smaller pebble-sized pieces into one hand and the larger ball into the other and resumed setting them into place.


    ¡°How do you even know they¡¯re supposed to go in there?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Kviye answered as the first pebble crossed an invisible threshold and jolted slightly before stabilizing in a floating position. ¡°I can hear you rolling your eyes, you know.¡±


    Valyen merely snorted in response.


    ¡°Remember a couple of years back?¡± Kviye continued. ¡°Those half-starved Wintis that spent four months flying barely above light speed before they reached us? Everyone knew their subspace skimmer was busted yet nobody knew how to fix it.¡±


    Valyen straightened up at this suggestion. ¡°There¡¯s no way this hunk of junk is part of a skimmer.¡±


    ¡°Maybe a primitive one. That¡¯s not the point, do you remember who fixed it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valyen answered, her voice dropping, but then she smiled. ¡°Those Wintis were so mad you started rooting about in there. For a moment I thought they might tear you limb from limb, or at the very least toss you right out of the ship.¡±


    Kviye snorted. ¡°They weren¡¯t too happy with me. Until they realized I fixed it. I was just there to help you out, not really looking to go off on my own.¡± The whole time Kviye spoke, Valyen watched her hands intently at work, fingers moving and manipulating without any discernable pattern. One of the pebbles started to float away from the group, but Kviye¡¯s left pinky shot out and shepherded it back into place. ¡°I was looking over your shoulder as you fiddled with something and it caught me out of the corner of my eyes, the heaviness these things emit that you can¡¯t quite put a finger on. It was also somehow different that time, almost as if it was upset.¡±


    ¡°Oh stop it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious. I know it makes no sense but that¡¯s what I felt. I can¡¯t tell you what I heard or what I saw because the answer is pretty much ¡®nothing¡¯. When it pulled me, and I followed, I forgot all about you and all about the Wintis. The only thing that remained was that black ball and that whine it sent to the back of my head. I could feel that the shroud around it was darker and somehow knew that I could stop it. So I lay my hands on it and adjusted it and I can¡¯t even say if those were my hands, let alone if I was moving them. And through the haze I heard the distant shouting and then a hand roughly tore me away but by that point is was all done. The darkness had thinned and I returned to the ship. Good thing that it started making all the right noises and the Wintis kindly opted not to kill me.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Valyen, somehow even paler than she normally looked, shuddered. ¡°I never liked these things. Some deep space dark magic bapa zhaga stuff.¡±


    ¡°Maybe so, but face it, from what we¡¯ve seen, you can¡¯t run a subspace skimmer without one. And without a skimmer, how am I supposed to take to the stars?¡±


    ¡°The stars, Kvee, just take a moment to think what you¡¯re talking about here, what kind of precise calculations and what kind of specific knowledge is required here. You can¡¯t fly a skiff across the continent without crashing if you don¡¯t have years of training and what are you going to go on? Feelings?¡±


    Kviye bit her lip as a particularly finicky dark pebble refused to find a place for itself, but after a few moments of concentration, she whispered ¡°yes¡±.


    ¡°You can¡¯t take a ship to the stars with feelings alone.¡±


    ¡°Well, not alone, it¡¯s feelings and these little things.¡± And as she finished speaking, Kviye felt through her fingers a bit of resistance, a sensation that spread up her arms and through her whole body, as if for a moment she had been locked in placed, and when she pushed herself out of the stupor, she knew she could let go and she removed her fingers to leave the little pebbles orbiting the larger ball, all suspended within the open chamber of the device.


    ¡°I¡¯ve certainly never seen them do that before.¡± Kviye couldn¡¯t remember the last time Valyen looked so perplexed while looking at something ostensibly mechanical. A faint hum emanated from the long-extinguished device and a smudged display came to life.


    ¡°Me neither.¡± The panel displayed a few words she didn¡¯t recognize, written in that intricate script that the ship¡¯s systems used, but as far as she could tell, everything, whatever ¡°everything¡± was in this situation, was functioning as it should have been. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s working.¡±


    ¡°And how did you make that conclusion, more feelings?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d call it more of an ¡®educated guess¡¯ and it¡¯s gotten me this far, so why stop now?¡± Kviye got up and rubbed her hands on her pants. ¡°Let me just check if dad¡¯s picked up any commissions for today.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 6/8

    Kviye briefly popped into the cockpit and came back after discovering radio silence from her father. She wondered if he even noticed that she was gone, or if he was still in town, trying to get word on whether anyone needed anything, as long as it was profitable, even if that profit was hardly worth Kviye¡¯s time to get the ship¡¯s engines running. She returned to Valyen, shaking her head.


    ¡°Nothing?¡±


    ¡°I guess that means I¡¯ve got time to try.¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    ¡°You have a better suggestion?¡± And before Valyen could open her mouth, Kviye added with a laugh, ¡°I mean before ¡®never¡¯.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I can find any other way to stop you?¡±


    ¡°Val, I can hardly hear you above my heartbeat. I need to try this.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± Kviye raised her eyebrows.


    ¡°Okay. If that¡¯s the look you¡¯re going to give me because you can¡¯t wait another five minutes, I¡¯m not sure I could handle looking at your face much longer anyway.¡± Kviye cast her glance down to the floor, but when Valyen added, ¡°Now let¡¯s go get this thing fired up,¡± Kviye quickly looked up at her friend.


    ¡°You too?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Valyen said coolly, though Kviye noticed the perspiration suddenly form under her hairline. ¡°Can¡¯t let you have all the fun.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure either of us will be having much fun with you hugging your seat with your eyes closed and moaning the whole way through.¡±


    ¡°That was one flight.¡±


    ¡°That was your only flight!¡± Kviye laughed and put a hand on Valyen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Besides, I need someone on the ground so they can point to whatever swamp I end up crashing this thing into.¡± Kviye¡¯s words cast a shadow over Valyen¡¯s smiling face.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± Valyen said as Kviye pulled her in for a hug.


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to see the stars and be right back.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Valyen¡¯s voice was tense as she wiggled out of Kviye¡¯s embrace. ¡°Before this starts feeling like a goodbye.¡±


    Kviye thought Valyen looked like she had something else to say, but instead she gave Kviye a thin smile, and headed towards the loading ramp.


    Kviye sat in the cockpit performing a third check of all her instruments and displays, including a new panel that had been black and dead her entire life and that until today had been used to display her mother¡¯s photo, which now watched Kviye taped to the viewscreen. The panel was dim and emitted an incessant ticking sound and Kviye could only guess at how long it had not been maintained for. She had decided that further rumination and divination would not help her understand it more than she already did, a passing familiarity based on her experience with other instruments that would hopefully mean that at the very least any avoidable disaster could indeed be avoided.


    She took her straight black hair, which normally hung just past her shoulders, and pulled it together with a tie before slipping on her flight helmet ¨C a safety precaution she normally dispensed with, but perhaps not when she was so brazenly tempting fate. Taking a long look at her mother smiling back at her from the wide viewscreen, Kviye brought the propulsion engines to life and the skiff lifted off the landing pad. Kviye angled the ship away from the garage and caught a glimpse of Valyen standing in its doors, her hands tucked into her armpits and a look on her face that Kviye didn¡¯t much want to dwell on. She gave her friend a small wave, knowing that Valyen could not see her through the reflective windows, and pulled away into the skies above Zhakitrinbur.


    Kviye gained altitude in a wide spiral over land, the edge of which hugged the bay around which the city had nestled itself. Everything was going well, insofar as her fiddling with the device did not interfere with the regular operation of the skiff ¨C all seemed normal but for the novelty of the flashing panel distracting her out of the corner of her eye.


    It was beautiful weather for tempting fate, the kind of day her mother had said was perfect for flying, as long as you liked it easy and didn¡¯t fall asleep at the controls. Her mother preferred flying through a bit of chop, the rain lashing sideways across the hull and the ground hardly visible beneath the murk. This caused no small amount of grief for Kviye¡¯s father, especially when Kviye started joining her on her runs, rain or shine.


    It had been nearly seven years to the day since she had left them after succumbing to the grey, a wasting disease that seemed to affect more and more people on their moon every year. In the last few months of her life, she had been unable to fly, and Kviye took to making her first solo short-haul runs, always flying with the fear that her mother wouldn¡¯t be there when she returned. During the final week, she grounded herself completely and while her father stayed in the other room unable to face his stricken wife, Kviye stayed by her mother¡¯s bedside as the disease took her sight, her speech, her hearing and eventually the rest of what it had left.


    After the funeral, it had rained forever in Vingu and they did not speak for so long that Kviye wasn¡¯t sure if she had a voice anymore. Valyen¡¯s calls were left unanswered and became less frequent, but still every two days, right before sunset, like clockwork. The colour had all been washed away from the world, and out of Kviye¡¯s life.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 7/8

    One day, they had been sitting at the dining table, eating for the fifth meal in a row a thin vegetable soup with some floating cracked bones in it, as the incessant rain pelted against the window.


    ¡°Dad?¡± Kviye asked, and her father seemed startled by the sudden intrusion of sound into their lives.


    The question, which she wished had been asked earlier so that the person she most wanted to answer it would have had a chance to do so, hurt her throat with its jagged edges as it came out. ¡°Why did mom love flying?¡±


    Their words lapped at the shores of silence, long pauses between each of them speaking. ¡°It was just her job.¡±


    ¡°I know it wasn¡¯t. Sometimes I could hear her take off in the middle of the night, and then she would come back a couple of hours later. I¡¯d check the log the next morning, and there were no jobs. So what was she doing?¡±


    Her father took a deep breath and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his fingers. ¡°It¡¯s the one thing I never understood about your mother, and like you, I waited too long to ask. I think I was mostly scared of the answer, that if she told me how she felt I would never shake this feeling that we were not enough for her. There was something about her and the sky and those stars.¡± He looked at the window, where the hangar with its cold and quiet skiff stood barely visible through the rain. ¡°I¡¯d guess it¡¯s something you know more about than I do.¡± He smiled then, the first smile that had entered her world in so long she wasn¡¯t sure she remembered how to do it. But she did remember, and she did smile back, and put her hand over her father¡¯s as it rested on top of the table.


    She wanted to say ¡°I do¡± but the words jammed in her throat, and tears formed in her eyes. Her father¡¯s eyes too, glistened in the dim light as he nodded in the direction of the window and asked her if she wanted to go out.


    She wiped her eyes and managed to say ¡°yes¡± before giving him a hug.


    Half an hour later, when she brought the skiff above the clouds and into the warmth of the sun, she made herself a promise that she would find a way to climb higher and higher, to bring herself to someone else¡¯s distant sun, where they would know of a cure to the affliction that took her mother.


    Not even Valyen knew that this was one of the biggest reasons Kviye had been chasing the little black spheres all these years. With Adri getting sicker, she didn¡¯t want to give her any hope; hope she knew would more likely than not come crashing out of the sky in a manner of minutes.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The altimeter indicated that she was about five hundred feet below the point where her last experiment nearly ended in complete disaster. She leveled her ascent, and took the skiff away from the city, so she could line up a trajectory that should have had her out of the atmosphere within Valyen¡¯s field of view. As she took the ship around, it began to quiver with the realization that the air would soon be too thin for it to continue, but Kviye patted the controls and in a hushed tone told the skiff that everything was going to be okay.


    Even if it was going to all go well, and she would descend triumphantly back to Zhakitrinbur after kissing the underbelly of the great black frontier, and give that ¡°told you so¡± smile to Valyen who would then take it in stride because all she wanted was for Kviye to return safe, this would only be the first baby step. Valyen was right, the ship didn¡¯t have anything resembling a skimmer, and even if she could put something together from spare parts that came through Valyen¡¯s garage it could take years for something workable to be constructed. And that something had as much odds of blowing her out of the sky as her current experiment did. Was there a point at the end of all this, a reason for her trying that was more than the trying itself?


    The voice inside her head, which unsurprisingly sounded much like Valyen¡¯s, asked her one last time if she still thought it was a good idea. By way of answer, Kviye swiftly brought the skiff to maximum velocity, tipped the nose upward, and flipped a switch on the dusty control panel.


    The panel blared in either alarm or excitement and a new kind of shiver passed through the ship. Somewhere behind her, the lid of the device blew open with a crash. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing would happen, but then Kviye felt the weight of the whole moon press her into her seat and then incrementally release her as if something within the ship itself helped Kviye in her struggle against this new force. The altimeter blazed past her previous record and kept rising. The ship shook and bucked in protest of this new sensation as Kviye made the necessary adjustments to spare herself from being pulverized against her seat. She took a quick glance at the altimeter, and it was either broken, or she was about to leave the only world she knew behind.


    She thought she imagined it at first, or that she was losing consciousness and her vision was blackening around the edges, and then she understood what was happening. The sky that had long hung over her like a protective blanket had parted, and she found that all this time it had been a veil that concealed from her the most beautiful sight.


    The black expanse towered over her like an endless possibility, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, the stars, without their familiar twinkle, revealed themselves around her. Below her, the greenish pearl of her moon hung like a tear drop off the solemn grey cheek of the gas giant. Kviye reached out and touched the cold glass of the viewscreen. The stars, just beyond her fingertips, appeared close enough to reach, no longer a dream, but a material thing she could touch, as long as she pointed her ship the right direction and kept going.

 Book I, Chapter 2, Part 8/8

    Kviye returned from those infinite worlds and back into her chair to the sound of her instruments gone haywire. Or rather, she would have been lifted out of that same chair as if by the buoyancy of the summer sea if she had not been strapped in. The new panel had been extinguished and displayed only the familiar blank screen, while everything else that was still functional was blaring an admonishing ¡°I told you so¡± at her.


    How long had the ship been listing? She thought that she couldn¡¯t have been floating in space for longer than a few minutes, but the chains of the moon were unmistakably pulling the skiff back into its solid embrace. Kviye looked behind her and found the panel from the device had almost made it cleanly through the wall of the engine room and out into the passageway connecting it with the cockpit. ¡°Oh no,¡± she muttered and then checked the altimeter. The instrument that had recently heralded her greatest success was now counting down, at increasing speed, towards inevitable failure.


    Unbuckling, Kviye lifted off her seat and maneuvered her legs so that she could push herself off the control panel and out of the cockpit. She undershot, and used her arms to pull herself towards the entrance of the engine room and the sharp shard of metal sticking through the wall next to it. Gravity, though still weak, was shifting perceptibly in the wrong direction. Inside the engine room, she found the device where she had positioned the spheres was indeed missing a door and was surrounded by concentric ripples of buckled metal that reached up to the ceiling. The assessment of the extent of the damage would have to wait, though it constricted her stomach in an uncomfortable fist.


    The largest of the spheres, the one she picked up from Valyen earlier that day, lay at the bottom of the device, noticeably shrunken, along with three of the pebbles. She scanned the room for the missing ones but finding no trace of them tried to reassemble the array with what she had.


    After a few minutes of fiddling with the black orbs, the whole time trying to brace herself against the wall to avoid drifting away and trying to ignore that the ship was gaining speed and bringing heaviness back into her body, she decided it was a futile effort and shoved the remaining ones in her pocket. Turning again and pushing her feet against the wall, she launched herself back through the door and towards the cockpit. About halfway there, she realized she overshot, and with a ¡°no, no, no¡± that culminated in a grunt, slammed with her back against the control panel of the skiff.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The ship had made significant progress towards the surface of Tanfana, which made it easier for Kviye to scramble back into the seat and buckle her restraints. With some gargantuan effort from the little propulsion that the ship could muster, Kviye manage to face it in the correct direction, in the sense that she could now observe the ever-approaching expanse of the green moon. She pivoted the nose of the skiff towards the bay on which Zhakitrinbur stood and using all the functioning systems that she had left at her disposal, steered the ship¡¯s descent in its general direction.


    The dissolving of the black that had enveloped her was even more jarring than when it initially appeared, as if she had been drowning and went for a breath of fresh air, and now her head was again swallowed by the waves. With the return to Tanfana¡¯s atmosphere, the ship shook harder, and the heat slowly crept through the hull and into the cockpit.


    Sweat streamed down the back of Kviye¡¯s neck as her fingers gripped tighter around the steering. An attempt to deploy one of the skiff¡¯s exterior breaks caused it to rip clean off the ship and almost sent her into an uncontrollable spin had Kviye not managed to get a handle on the steering. Still, her angle of approach remained too steep and Zhakitrinbur grew in the distance with alarming speed. The whole world seemed to shrink into that single shortening line and its stubborn angle. Every other thought that bothered to try to enter into her head ¨C her father, coming home to find the skiff and Kviye missing, her mother¡¯s photo watching her struggle with the controls, the stars, in their glamorous endless glory ¨C all had been rebuffed and pushed away.


    Only one image kept worming itself into her mind and stinging her eyes along with the sweat that she couldn¡¯t brush away for fear of letting go of the controls. Somewhere on the ground, Valyen stood and watched the whole thing; her slow and then rapid ascent that sent her clear out of sight; had she cheered, despite herself? Kviye believed that she did. Something subdued, like a single clap or a slap against her thigh. And now, faced with her agonizingly slow descent, that left behind a trail of fire and debris, would she have looked away? No, not Valyen. She was too practical. She¡¯d watch until the last second so she could tell where the ship went down, so she could make her way there, alone if she had to. She wouldn¡¯t be able to tear her eyes away, same as Kviye from the marshes that grew monstrous in front of her, looking for a soft damp spot but not one that would swallow the ship whole and deprive Valyen of her closure. Just look away. Close your eyes. Please, Val, look away.

 Book I, Chapter 3, Part 1/7

    Chapter 3


    Kalirit


    The setting sun covered the city below the spire in a red glow, and Kalirit was reminded of home. In this light, she was able to take off her sunglasses and rest her eyes as she surveyed the metropolis before her. Thousands of years earlier, before Thorians landed on Varakan, the landscape would have been nothing but endless fields begging to be cultivated to feed the nascent Empire. In the millennia since, the planet had grown to be the headquarters of the Anthar Kai, making Varakan the de facto capital of its own quasi-empire that Kalirit had now ruled for over two decades.


    Having her office sit at the tip of a dark tower that reached more than a mile into the skies above Varakan¡¯s main city seemed needlessly regal to Kalirit when she first moved in ¨C a remnant of a time two centuries earlier when the Anthar Kai was at the peak of its influence, before the other races began to grow stronger, and the Thorian Presidium on the home world of Kai Thori began clawing back some control. She had built her career on being close to the ground, visiting as many worlds under the control of the Anthar Kai as she could, preferring to do business out of cramped quarters on freighters rather than the comfort of a proper desk. But she had grown to like such an expansive view, and now that her own construction projects were nearing their final years, she could see the renovated central district take shape as a microcosm for the colonies under her influence.


    She readily admitted, but only to herself and at the end of a long day, that it was partially a vanity project, but as one of the youngest to have ever achieved the post of the High Commissary of the Anthar Kai, she knew she needed to seize the opportunity to throw her energy into a lengthy transformative endeavor. For twenty years the central district had been substantially rebuilt to organize the governing, logistics, freight-forwarding and other administrative offices by the worlds they represented. Not only would this inject some much needed efficiency into the bureaucracy, but would also give the millions of staff who worked in the city a clearer idea of the scale and distances of the empire they were tasked with running.


    In the far distance to her left was the new complex that represented the outer Vaparozh colonies that formed some of Anthar Kai¡¯s newest acquisitions, whose administration was granted to them by the Thorian Empire after the defeat in what had become known as the Last Gasp. Drawn against the setting sun were the dark shapes of the buildings that were responsible for the furthest Anthar Kai worlds on the very border of Dead Space. And below her, the finishing touches were being put on the dome of the grand pavilion that housed the governing structure of nearby Ntaos, home of the species that formed a sizable demographic of the workforce on Varakan due to the proximity of their homeworld.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    As the city plunged further into darkness, the lights came on in her office, and on cue, her assistant rang the telecom to be permitted inside. Kalirit could not resist the brief smile that crossed her lips at Gaingat¡¯s innate knowledge of the little slivers of day where she should not be disturbed, but by the time the door opened, the smile had been erased, and the face of the High Commissary was positioned carefully into place.


    ¡°High Commissary, an urgent message from Governor Fainreshlin.¡± The diminutive Ntaos began. No Ntaos stood over four feet tall, their square bodies hunched over into a constant deferential posture that made them the butt of so many Thorian jokes. Kalirit knew a fool whenever she heard anyone quip either about their far-set eyes that never looked straight at you, or their mottled yellow skin that was always wet with perspiration. She was capable of acknowledging that their bent spines formed the backbone of the Anthar Kai and therefore the Empire, and anyone who dared make light of that fact was, in the eyes of Kalirit, akin to someone who would saw the branch they were perched on.


    ¡°Has it now?¡± She picked the data pad from Gaingat¡¯s stubby fingers. ¡°That¡¯s faster than I would have expected from Fainreshlin.¡±


    ¡°The Governor is punctual, isn¡¯t he?¡± The other thing most Thorians commonly missed about the Ntaos is that they actually possessed personalities, something that would shock most staunch supremacists, who preferred to see the universe in easily categorized and generally unflattering broad strokes. Gaingat, for example, exhibited the frequent trait of bitter cynicism that was masked by a gaze diverted at the floor and missed by most Thorians, since they could not even begin to conceive that a peculiar turn of phrase was a subtle stab in their general direction. Kalirit chose to cultivate this particular trait in Gaingat as she was starved to work with those that actually dared express their opinions in her presence.


    ¡°Punctual is certainly a kind way of describing the Governor, and we wouldn¡¯t want to be going soft on old Fainreshlin, would we?¡±


    ¡°I think the Governor has an easy enough time going soft on himself, High Commissary.¡± Kalirit gave her assistant a long look, debating whether she should permit herself to laugh or smile, but the moment had slipped out of her hand. ¡°Sorry, High Commissary,¡± Gaingat quickly added.


    ¡°No need, Gaingat, you¡¯re absolutely right, of course. The Governor is getting somewhat comfortable in his position, and there¡¯s no reason why we should go out of our way to make his comfort our priority. Have we confirmed receipt of this yet?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d sent it certified.¡±


    ¡°Typical.¡± She could see Fainreshlin now, in the pompous robes of the old Governors, a self-described traditionalist that worshipped only those traditions that suited his own image of himself. She let her pause linger in the hopes that Gaingat would pick up on her desire to have news of the communication that she was waiting for with far more anticipation than the inevitable ramblings of Fainreshlin.

 Book I, Chapter 3, Part 2/7

    ¡°Has anything arrived from the Presidium?¡± It felt like groveling, even if it was only to Gaingat, and she let her annoyance seep into her voice.


    ¡°No High Commissary, I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ve been completely silent.¡±


    In measured steps she walked to the back of her office and sat down at her desk, her fingers flicking away at the computer displays sprawled before her. The half-melted archways so common in Thorian architecture loomed above her, their shape and dark colour reminiscent of the cliff-side cities on Kai Thori.


    ¡°I¡¯ve also prepared a dispatch to the Presidium,¡± she said without looking up. ¡°Have that sent right away on the most rapid stream you can find.¡±


    ¡°Immediately, High Commissary.¡± Gaingat made the slightest of moves to head out of the office when Kalirit continued.


    ¡°It is becoming more and more apparent that I will have to appear before the Presidium myself. I will likely be gone within weeks.¡±


    ¡°Shall I inform Vice Commissary Seshathirlin?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all.¡± Kalirit looked up then, resting her elbows on the table with the sides of her forearms facing out, a subtle gesture of threat when directed at a Thorian, but that signaled to Gaingat that his job was about to get that much more interesting. ¡°In fact, I want you to make sure that he¡¯s the last person to find out about this. Eitherorik will be deputy High Commissary in my absence.¡±


    Even Gaingat couldn¡¯t restrain himself from making eye contact. He was smart, Kalirit knew that. Smart enough to know that the biggest power struggle within the Anthar Kai was between the High Commissary and the commander of the Shoaman Kai, Anthar Kai¡¯s military branch, and her relationship with Eitherorik was no exception. That look alone was the limit of how much Gaingat allowed himself to judge her decision making.


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of the reporting lines, Gaingat.¡± She assured him. ¡°But interesting times call for interesting solutions. You will keep me apprised on my secure line as always.¡±


    ¡°Of course, High Commissary.¡± He paused and a small smile crossed his face. ¡°You¡¯ve left me with no additional instructions and I¡¯m as puzzled as anybody.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± She leaned back in her chair, flipping through everything that had come in since she permitted herself to leave her desk and admire the sunset. The piracy report from Eitherorik arrived at the expected time, the moment the Varakan sun dropped below the horizon. Dark news for a dark time. Another speculative report came from the managers at the exchange, recommending immediate diversion of haskbib seeds to the Mraboran Protectorate due to their popularity in making Thorian effigies in these trying times. And here was news that Creeper had allegedly spread as far as the Vaparozh holdings, but this was yet to be substantiated.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Regardless of the light outside, ¡°nighttime¡± for Kalirit was a hollow concept. A hundred suns continued to shine on her empire and the linchpin that held it all together could not be beholden to any single clock.


    ¡°Gaingat,¡± she said to the Ntaos who waited silently for her to finish. ¡°Once you¡¯ve sent the dispatch to the Presidium, you may leave for the night.¡±


    ¡°And the dispatch to Governor Fainreshlin?¡± He asked before his body even as much as twitched in the direction of the door.


    ¡°He can wait. It would do him good to learn a little patience.¡± She looked down at the data pad and made a waving motion with her hand.


    ¡°Yes High Commissary. Thank you.¡± And before she could even raise her eyes to watch him leave, the door slid shut behind him.


    Even in the silence of her office she could sense that the collective consciousness of the Thorians writhed in response to the turmoil and hope spurred on by the invasion of Krevali. This shared empathy was what had bound her species together and allowed it to dominate the Known Reaches, but she, along with an inestimable number of other severed Thorians, was blind and deaf to it. If she could somehow reach out and touch it, find a way for it to flow through her, maybe she would have a better idea of how to steer through the times ahead. Instead, billions of beings conspired quietly against her, and it was only fair that she return the favour.


    Her only regret about her intended course of action was that she would not see the consternation on Eitherorik¡¯s face as he scrambled to get to Varakan from Vesh Tarak, where the Shoaman Kai was headquartered, wondering the whole time whether he did something brilliant or utterly obtuse in order to be picked as deputy over Vice Commissary Seshathirlin. Not to mention Seshathirlin¡¯s own inevitable oscillation between outrage at being bypassed and relief at avoiding any additional obligations. He would ultimately settle on huffing when anyone was looking and then counting his blessings behind the closed door of his office.


    Vice Commissary wasn¡¯t a real job in any case, more a way to say thank you for your service, you¡¯ve been a great asset to the organization, here¡¯s a shiny desk and title, now please stay out of the way like the good hapless fossil that you are. Seshathirlin relished in the pomp that came with the position, but just as responsibility shrank away from Seshathirlin, Vice Commissary Seshathirlin shrank away from responsibility.


    So when the first reports from Krevali came in, naturally he was nowhere to be found. Normally, by Kalirit¡¯s estimation, Seshathirlin¡¯s ramblings were the biggest waste of resources in the entirety of the Anthar Kai, just going by the amount of productivity he leeched out of those around him. But it was Eitherorik that ended up calling their first meeting, even though he was practically on the transport back to Vesh Takar when the news first struck that the Anthar Kai would not be managing the governance and resources of Krevali.

 Book I, Chapter 3, Part 3/7

    It had been the Anthar Kai¡¯s historic duty and the very reason for its existence. When the nascent Thorian colonies started producing anything of worth, a centralized system needed to ensure that both colonists and the homeworld had benefitted from the relationship, and so the Presidium, with the assistance of wealthy investors on the homeworld, established the Anthar Kai, to ensure that both the needs and the wants of the growing Empire were met. For thousands of years as new worlds were added to the Empire, the Anthar Kai was there to pacify and integrate the native populations, to set up supply lines, and graft the new living space like an additional body part with its own unique function onto a vast living organism. Yet as a culmination of an unspoken rift that had begun during the Last Gasp, when Anthar Kai military support was rejected, the newest species to be integrated into the Thorian Empire would not have the benefit of the millennia of experience accumulated within the corporation. And the senior leadership of the Anthar Kai would only learn of the insulting decision through news dispatches with no advance warning from the Presidium.


    The day the news had reached them, Eitherorik arrived at Kalirit¡¯s office unannounced and blew by Gaingat, who refused to give Eitherorik the satisfaction of groveling and telling him that the High Commissary was ever so busy. Instead, he allowed the door to the office to slide open and for Eitherorik to make a few confident strides before he shook a data pad in front of him and asked, ¡°Have you heard about this?¡±


    Eitherorik¡¯s frame seemed to be custom-made for barging in. He was tall, even for a Thorian, with wide shoulders that tapered into a slim build. He kept his hair short, which only accentuated a thin but prominent nose that seemed to form a kind of keel that could penetrate into any room. Wherever he may have picked up the habit of invading places with his presence, Kalirit took it upon herself to break it. She took her time to finish writing the sentence that she was in the middle of and slowly looked up at Eitherorik. ¡°And have you heard about waiting to be let in?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He assumed, and then hoped, that it was a joke, but Kalirit continued to stare up from her work in silence. ¡°High Commissary, this is important.¡±


    Kalirit did not budge. Eitherorik waited another few moments and then crossed the rest of her office to put the data pad on the desk under her nose. Her eyes didn¡¯t move while he declared, ¡°The Presidium are laughing at us.¡±


    A thousand responses bubbled up in Kalirit¡¯s throat but she forced them down like bile, instead gesturing with her eyes towards the door. Eitherorik lingered in the most menacing way someone could linger in the presence of someone who was separated from them by the desk of the highest office of the corporation. Finally, but without ever letting his indignant expression falter, he headed in the direction of the door. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Kalirit cleared her throat, and reminded him that he had forgotten something. The walk back to her desk to retrieve the data pad and then again to the door couldn¡¯t have been over soon enough for Eitherorik and lasted not long enough for Kalirit. With the door now shut firmly behind him, Eitherorik asked to be let in. Kalirit took a breath, and started writing another sentence which again she took her time finishing after she had permitted him to return.


    Before Eitherorik could open his mouth, she said, ¡°I¡¯m assuming this is about the administration of Krevali.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you¡¯re not more outraged.¡± Eitherorik slipped the data pad back into his pocket.


    ¡°Right, and in order to express that outrage, whose office should I be barging into all huffed up like a varishim lizard in mating season?¡±


    Eitherorik chewed on whatever was left of his pride and responded, ¡°Seshathirlin¡¯s?¡±

 Book I, Chapter 3, Part 4/7

    As one of Vice Commissary, Seshathirlin¡¯s key roles was to act as the primary contact with the Presidium, the decision to subject themselves to him as Vice Commissary had always puzzled and troubled Kalirit.


    They found Seshathirlin implanted firmly in his office with the door closed. The Vice Commissary¡¯s office was even more impressive than that of the High Commissary, with a shard of glass floor next to one of the windows to mimic the effect of standing at the top of the Cliff District in Vain Sarshi, the capital city of the homeworld. When they came in, Seshathirlin had been looking down that chasm and feigned surprise at the presence of his visitors. He formed an imposing shape against the tinted window that shielded them from the Varakan sun, a figure that backed up his blustery temper. Jowly for a Thorian, most of his facial features, from his cranial bumps to his lips, stuck out accusingly at anyone who haplessly wondered into his line of sight.


    Eitherorik helped himself to one of the chairs across from Seshathirlin¡¯s desk while Kalirit chose to stand leaning against a support pillar with her hands behind her back. While the Vice Commissary looked like he will be accidentally set off like a neglected bomb from a bygone era and Eitherorik was eager to launch any second like a freshly-minted missile, Kalirit¡¯s presence created a pocket of resoluteness, eyes constantly reading.


    ¡°Vice Commissary, you must be a busy man, I¡¯ve hardly seen you these past few weeks,¡± Kalirit started.


    ¡°Sometimes I think it¡¯s my own fault that the Company can¡¯t afford my retirement, but I¡¯m sure you both have been busy as well.¡±


    ¡°Has there been any word from the Presidium on the news from this morning?¡± Eitherorik cut-in.


    ¡°If the Presidium had word, I would have known about. And I¡¯ve heard nothing.¡± Seshathirlin took his place at his desk and gave Eitherorik a long look.


    ¡°Am I right to assume that a dispatch will be sent to them immediately?¡± Eitherorik asked.


    ¡°Diplomacy, especially Company diplomacy, is very unlike your area of expertise, Eitherorik. I can¡¯t just scramble the nearest gunship to hover menacingly above a work camp. This takes finesse, and finesse takes experience, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll one day learn.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure your experience is unparalleled, but can we afford to hang back? The Presidium has been treating the Anthar Kai not as the lifeblood of the Empire but as a nuisance, and perhaps it¡¯s time we started voicing our concerns more strongly.¡±


    ¡°And do you think their opinion will change if we bombard them with communications like an impatient child? There¡¯s also the shareholders to consider. A lot of powerful people, money older than you and I could even comprehend, are going to be as displeased as we are, and they will start banging on the door of the Presidium and the Senate. They can break down the doors so we don¡¯t have to get our hands dirty. High Commissary, what do you think?¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Kalirit put on her imitation of a warm smile. ¡°I will defer to your extensive expertise on the matter, Vice Commissary.¡± Back then she thought that the Presidium would toy with them only for a few days, that Seshathirlin¡¯s outrage would displace his dithering and he would send them hours of footage of him banging his fist on the table in lieu of punctuation, but instead she ended up personally preparing a dispatch, feeling not as a child who was impatient, but one that was being scolded.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe the Company¡¯s highest authorities are just willing to sit back and do nothing.¡± Eitherorik shook his head.


    ¡°I am not sitting,¡± Kalirit observed.


    ¡°And I am not doing nothing,¡± Seshathirlin added. ¡°Perhaps, Eitherorik, it would be best if you gathered yourself and headed to Vesh Takar and waited for the inevitable call to pacify the local Krevali populace and to keep the posturing Mraborans and Hatvan on a short leash. High Commissary?¡±


    ¡°I agree. You would likely be of more use on Vesh Takar for the time being.¡±


    Eitherorik, with his eyes still on Kalirit, spoke to Seshathirlin. ¡°I wish I could share your optimism, Vice Commissary, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed the Presidium has hardly relied on us since the Last Gasp. Mind you, a major reason why we lost that war in the first place. Had the Thorian military engaged the Anthar Kai like they have in wars of conquest for thousands of years, we would have easily overwhelmed the Vaparozh and the Iastret and would have laid waste to the meddling Human fleet. But no, somebody decided to shrug off tradition and try something new, and if it was the novel experience of defeat they were after, then I guess they succeeded at that.¡±


    Seshathirlin waved at him and his cheeks wobbled. ¡°Don¡¯t you go quoting me the Last Gasp, Eitherorik. That war happened practically in my backyard and let me tell you that we threw it deliberately.¡± Eitherorik sent a pleading glance in the direction of Kalirit but her expression was implacable. ¡°The whole affair was orchestrated to coax the others into letting their guard down. Let them think they stand any kind of chance against the Empire and when the time is right, overwhelm the Vaparozh and then those arrogant Iastret and the others would soon fall.¡±


    Eitherorik let out a long sigh. Only the older generation could cling to the myth that everything they did had some hidden wisdom to it. ¡°There is no grand plan, there is only almost five decades of unforced errors by the most stagnant Presidium in generations. Some fresh blood might do well to put the Empire back on track.¡±


    ¡°And we will watch your political career with great interest,¡± Kalirit said and got an under-the-breath chuckle out of Seshathirlin.


    Eitherorik stood up then, and without further ceremony said, ¡°I know when to take good counsel. If you need me before my departure for Vesh Takar, you know how to contact me. Good day to you both.¡± And with that he walked out of the office, his jacket¡¯s coattails billowing in the wake of his determined stride. Kalirit let herself wonder whether that determination arose out of a need to vacate Varakan or return to Vesh Takar.


    ¡°He¡¯s young, that one. He¡¯ll figure things out in time,¡± Seshathirlin said.


    ¡°He¡¯s not so much younger than me.¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. He doesn¡¯t know a world before the Last Gasp, so he¡¯s angry. It¡¯s no wonder it was their generation that popularized that term.¡±


    ¡°And you disagree?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve all got a lot of breathing left in us.¡±


    That conversation had been the last time she had seen Seshathirlin in weeks, which for Kalirit was unfortunate, because in turbulent times like these he would have been a helpful window into the collective mood of the Empire, which ordinarily shifted in gentle ebbs and flows, and scarcely affected Kalirit. Any subtle shifts could be deduced by observing her colleagues, their posture, their tilt of the head, the way they carried themselves into the office and out. But times of great upheaval made for dangerous waters.

 Book I, Chapter 3, Part 5/7

    Someone with a complete lack of filter like Seshathirlin was a useful barometer into sentiments that could shift abruptly ¨C a swelling reaction carried almost instantaneously through the aether, well ahead of any news dispatches. A Thorian all the way out in the Imperial borders of Dead Space could be waiting for two weeks to find out why they¡¯re feeling elated or why a sinking dread is has taken residence in their stomach. Kalirit would be able to tell by the movements that surrounded her that something was amiss but she would have no way of knowing what it felt like. Without a good eye into the storm she felt most vulnerable, most likely to get exposed as a netkarthi.


    Her first experience with this had been at university on Kai Thori, when she was blind to the initial exhilaration and the eventual devastation at the end of the Last Gasp War. It was the first time in two thousand years that a Thorian military conflict resulted in a net loss of territory. The had succeeded in cutting deeper into Vaparozh space, including the space around Krevali but lost large swaths of their colonies to the Iastret Commonwealth, and almost surrendered Nabak to the Mraborans. When news of the Treaty of Krevali started spreading through Thorian space, the sheer force of it caught Kalirit by surprise.


    She remembered waking up late at night and finding her roommate, Nirtaren, sitting at her table with the light on and her hands hanging limply at her side. When Kalirit whispered ¡°hey¡±, Nirtaren turned in her direction and Kalirit found her friend ashen, eyes sunken in, each bone illuminated harshly by the desk lamp. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kalirit couldn¡¯t stop herself from asking and was met with a look on Nirtaren¡¯s face that made it clear that her question was as foolish as asking someone who had just lost both her parents why they were so upset. Fortunately, in her distress, Nirtaren didn¡¯t seem to register Kalirit¡¯s reaction that night and didn¡¯t mention it again. For Kalirit, it was almost a costly lesson to never let her guard down or forget that she¡¯s moving blind through a world of seers.


    The gloom that hung over Kai Thori that winter was palpable even for a netkarthi, but while her classmates drowned in a mire of defeat by wars fought and lost light years away, she rose to the top of her class. These days she scoffed at the foolish years spent lamenting this missing link to the rest of the Thorian species, when she had believed that being a netkarthi would stand as an impenetrable boulder between her and her success. It took her a long time to learn that anything can be forged into a weapon. Where in other Thorians the sense of duty to their people lived inexorably in their gut, Kalirit was free to make every decision with her head. And sometimes what was best for the Company was not what was best for Thorians as a whole.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Some, like Vice Commissary Seshathirlin, understood this in principle, though their nature would never permit them to act on it. And those like Eitherorik were a particularly irksome lot, growing in discontent as the species-wide mood slowly soured throughout the course of their lives. They were especially sensitive to the preservation of Thorian-wide happiness, which is why the more time Eitherorik spent on Vesh Takar coordinating the next fist-shaking endevour, the more freedom Kalirit had to govern the Company as she saw fit.


    With that thought, Kalirit pulled up the pirate activity report that Eitherorik had sent. For someone who had entered every room with the bluster of a seasonal gale, he seemed to be having difficulty replicating the same effect for the pirates that had plagued the outer rim of the Empire. Perhaps a subtle reminder about this was overdue, though in Eitherorik¡¯s defence, ever since the pirate clans amalgamated several years earlier, their attacks have become exceedingly coordinated, relentless, and focused almost exclusively on Anthar Kai assets. Hatvan luxury liners cruised unmolested and Vaparozh trade had flourished, while the Anthar Kai diverted valuable resources to fighting off this new pestilence with little apparent success.


    Perhaps something marginally less infuriating required her attention, so instead she pulled up the dispatch from Governor Fainreshlin.


    Fainreshlin chose to send his communication as a branching dialogue tree, which he preferred because of his firm belief that he could think five steps ahead of anyone and predict every twist and turn a conversation could take. This method was only slightly less crude than simply sending a long-winded monologue, and far-removed from using a well-trained proxy, something that took countless hours to hone and for which Fainreshlin lacked both the discipline and foresight.


    Thorian collective empathy moved through the aether instantaneously, but conventional communication was afforded no such luxury. While information travelled faster than any available transportation, depending on the distance and the position of relay satellites a message could take up to a month to cross from one end of the Known Reaches to the other. Sending single one-way messages often ground communication to a halt, and while some Thorians liked to blame their perceived decline of the Empire on the increased respect afforded to non-Thorian sentients, Kalirit was convinced that if there were any fingers to be pointed at anything, it would be squarely at the decrease of the use of AI proxies. Either people now had too many secrets they couldn¡¯t risk their electronic counterparts blabbing, or nobody had the time anymore to craft a near-perfect replica of themselves that they could send to any corner of the Known Reaches to have a fulsome conversation in their place.


    Kalirit believed a lot could be discerned about a person based on what method they used to find efficiency within this technological limitation. Every day Kalirit set aside dedicated time to her messenger, and as a result, whenever she had the need to review older recordings she would sometimes have a difficult time discerning her personal conversation from her alternate¡¯s.

 Book I, Chapter 3.6

    Her forearms throbbed as she picked up the Governor¡¯s letter. The prospect of having to comb through Fainreshlin¡¯s invisible branches to get at the fruits she wanted to pluck led her to indulge in a moment of daydreaming ¨C about a future where everything she had been building would come together, and the Anthar Kai would wield the power of near-instantaneous communication, ready to deploy a pliable workforce at a moment¡¯s notice from the High Commissary.


    She set the data pad in the recess in her desk with the camera facing towards her, and dabbed the sweat from her cranial bumps. Once the interaction commenced it was treated like a regular conversation, and any expression, pause, or aside was dutifully recorded and sent back with the response. Once she was confident that she resembled her portrait that hung with the other High Commissaries in the cavernous lobby of the tower, she turned on the recording.


    Fainreshlin¡¯s somewhat melted face appeared on screen and did a half-turn to face the camera as if he was caught doing something far more important than having this conversation.


    ¡°High Commissary, always a pleasure.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Governor,¡± she replied, knowing that the observation would hit just the right nerve.


    ¡°I trust things are keeping you busy, High Commissary.¡±


    ¡°Toiling under a hundred suns, as always, Governor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you must have heard the news by now. I admit it had come to us as quite as a shock. The Governor¡¯s seat out of Chiartries has administered this corner of Thorian space for six hundred years. Under the Treaty of Krevali, we were assigned the former Iastret colonies in this region, and it was our understanding that this would include Krevali if ever the protection order over it was lifted or otherwise handled. To have our latest conquest now go to general Senate rule is unprecedented, and an insult to the Anthar Kai¡¯s status and central role in the Empire. I trust that everything is being done at your disposal to rectify the situation.¡±


    Kalirit kept her face flat even as she cycled through all the things she could have been doing instead of enduring this unnecessary history lesson.


    ¡°The Senate¡¯s actions are as much a consternation to us as they are to you. But I think it¡¯s important for all of us to remember that we all ultimately serve at the leisure of the Presidium, and they¡¯re the stewards of what¡¯s good for the Empire as a whole. Vice Commissary Seshathirlin is putting all his not insubstantial experience into resolving matters to everyone¡¯s satisfaction.¡±


    ¡°I would like to know what is being done on our behalf to resolve this crisis.¡± Kalirit bet that he had assumed she would come out cagey and therefore would have devoted most of his planned responses to badgering her for information, which meant that the reason for this somewhat repetitive response was because he couldn¡¯t imagine that she could be straight with him from the start.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°An audience with the Presidium is a desired outcome. But as I¡¯m sure you understand with the crisis coalescing around turbulent Krevali, the Presidium¡¯s time is in short supply, and our options with respect to that are quite limited.¡±


    ¡°For centuries since this governorship has been established it was understood that the moment the Krevali become a space-faring race they would be ushered into civilization by the Anthar Kai and their territory would be subsumed to the governorship.¡±


    ¡°The governorship would not be in a bad position to have access to the ample resources of Krevali,¡± Kalirit responded, making an effort to not herself get lost in the negatives and superlative adjectives of her tangled sentences. ¡°On our end, productivity is not at all at a standstill. Preparations are underway to ensure that we¡¯re not caught administratively flatfooted when we discover that Krevali has been brought into the fold and the situation is not unsalvageable, with the resources coming into your disposal.¡±


    ¡°I demand to know what is going to be done.¡±


    ¡°Discounting the significant efforts of Vice Commissary Seshathirlin, and the great burdens placed on my support personnel to resolve the potential rectification of this oversight, in absolute terms, nothing has been approved at the moment.¡±


    Fainreshlin paused, his brow twitching every few seconds as the recording looped while the algorithm tried to process Kalirit¡¯s response. Finally, the Governor spoke, ¡°I will kindly remind you that our voting block was quite instrumental in extending your term as High Commissary and it would be in your best interest to ensure our vote does not change.¡±


    It may have nearly fried her brain, but it worked ¨C the major problem with dialogue trees was that through vagaries of language, you could trespass into branches without legitimately prompting them. Few attempted to do so with the same vigour as Kalirit, because success made the other look like a fool, but failure would have made you an even bigger one. Governor Fainreshlin must have really been feeling the heat if he was willing to so openly threaten the High Commissary of the Anthar Kai, but even if his estimation of his influence over his supposed voting block and its sway was erroneous, having his cards laid bare on the table ought to serve to subdue him.


    With a faint smile, she responded, ¡°I could exert my finest efforts to pretend that a conversation of this nature had never occurred, I¡¯m sure that would suit you well.¡±


    ¡°That would be a start. But we expect an appearance by you in front of the Presidium to be most influential.¡±


    ¡°Of course, that is an option that can be considered. I could appear personally in front of the Presidium and inform them that there are some sovereignty concerns in the Chiartries governorship , that I¡¯m sure could be resolved with an increased military presence and a reconsideration of the appointments at the highest levels of the governorship. They would be happy to hear it and I would be happy to deliver it.¡±


    Fainreshlin¡¯s face returned to the twitching loop, as Kalirit kept the rising emotion from her face. Did she push it too far walking into a rebuke, or would the recording spit out a response that would all but legitimize this conversation? Her anxiety had begun to morph into regret, a feeling that was a rare visitor in Kalirit¡¯s mind, when Fainreshlin¡¯s recording responded, ¡°I am glad we are in agreement.¡±


    Swallowing a sigh of relief, Kalirit could feel the throbbing recede from her forearms. Even if Fainreshlin thought that this was all put together to embarrass him, part of him would wonder how just how serious her threat was, which should keep him too preoccupied to make any lasting damage while the interstellar navies of a half-dozen species congealed around his territory.

 Book I, Chapter 3.7

    ¡°Do you have any other concerns, Governor?¡± Kalirit asked.


    ¡°There is also the troubling matter of the Creeper incident we had in one of our major ports last month. One of our docking facilities was reporting an unusually high incidence of absenteeism, and when the security forces were sent to investigate the delinquents, a raid on one of their homes uncovered a den of Creeper users. I¡¯d heard scattered reports of an increase in the use of this drug, but to have it land on my shores is unacceptable. We cannot afford losses of efficiency at a time like this. The Shoaman Kai has cleaned up this particular den, but I¡¯m assuming that Eitherorik has a handle on rooting out the smugglers and dealers.¡±


    ¡°Are we sure it was the same drug? I hear some Hatvan opiates have a similar effect.¡±


    ¡°Creeper is no joke, High Commissary, and this incident shouldn¡¯t be attributed to mere laziness. Perhaps on Varakan you¡¯ve become so comfortable that you can afford lapses in work ethic, but not so here in the Chiartries system.¡±


    ¡°I understand your concerns Governor, but we believe the issue has been blown out of proportion. As you¡¯ve said, the reports are scattered and we have no reason to think that it¡¯s as widespread as some would like to believe. Eitherorik has informed me that the Shoaman Kai had recently intercepted a small shipment of Creeper on Kheim. If this is the scale they¡¯re working on, we needn¡¯t concern ourselves too much.¡±


    ¡°It may be a small problem for you, but I don¡¯t believe there¡¯s any small problem that can¡¯t get big.¡± He was right, Kalirit thought, but she imagined that he was not talking about himself at that moment.


    ¡°If I could remind you, Governor, that just last decade we had a brief Hydraflax epidemic, and it was handled swiftly. Our labourers work hard, and sometimes they seek release through avenues that are ill-advised. I sincerely hope that whatever instructions were handed down from your office to the local branch of the Shoaman Kai with respect to how to deal with this problem had taken that into account.¡±


    The recording was about to enter into another head-scratching loop, but Kalirit spared Fainreshlin the pain of standing there mute. ¡°We now have the intercepted shipment from Kheim, and I expect that this will lead us to the source of the problem in due course.¡±


    ¡°It is the least we expect.¡±


    ¡°And we always exceed expectations. Until next time, Governor.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Good luck, High Commissary.¡± The recording flickered out and Kalirit plucked the data pad out of its recess to toss it into the outgoing communication pile on her desk. Even Fainreshlin¡¯s breathing seemed so loud that it made it difficult for Kalirit to hear her own thoughts, but now in the silence of her office she played through the conversation again.


    She hadn¡¯t expected the narcotic to arrive on Chiartries quite so soon. Up until a year ago, few had even heard of the ancient parasite eggs known as Creeper, as their supply was confined to reclusive death cults and the ultra-rich. But a synthesized version of the slightly luminescent amber spheres had now made it from its first recorded sighting on Vesh Mav all the way to Chiartries, almost a quarter-span of the Empire. Still, its alleged range seemed to be confined to the periphery of the Anthar Kai, and so even the very mention of it was unlikely to reach the core worlds for a while. It would sooner seep across their borders into the Mraboran Protectorate or even the Hatvan Empire. Kalirit thought it could be interesting to watch how they handled a full-blown epidemic, but having Creeper spread too quickly wouldn¡¯t do anyone any favours. Curiously, despite this far-flung range, Eitherorik reported only one seized shipment, so either the Shoaman Kai hadn¡¯t been doing its job well or, for whatever reason that was probably obvious to the younger generation, he was underreporting.


    She leaned over her desk and ran her fingers along the engraved crown of broad leaves above an agitated ocean, the emblem of the Anthar Kai, the ¡°the mother¡¯s mouth¡±, built to feed and clothe a fledgling empire, now a gaping maw that threatened to swallow her whole, that had grown beyond the comprehension of all her predecessors, all those who were blinded to its power because they never could see the whole picture at once. Men like Fainreshlin relied on it, derived their entire being from it, but at the end of the day they merely suckled at its teat and weren¡¯t able to offer anything in return or to properly leverage their position. For those like the Governor, status and a morsel of power was the pinnacle of their ambition.


    She looked at her empty inbox. Every dispatch that required her immediate attention had been dealt with, but the one she was most impatient to receive was conspicuously absent. The in-person audience with the Presidium was turning into a sure thing, and Kalirit was not looking forward to losing her grasp on the certainty that came out of being stationary; where communications times could be calculated to the day and where there was no risk of crossing paths with a message sent from the very destination she was headed to.


    She reflected ruefully how she had settled into sedentary work, a far cry from forty years prior when she restlessly hopped to each corner of the Anthar Kai holdings as she ignored the call of the stasis pods. Now she felt as though she¡¯d grown into these walls and the prospect of separation sent arrows of discomfort from her forearms to her shoulders.


    The Presidium was the only entity for whom such sacrifice was expected of her. The last glowing orb of power that still sat out of her reach. What her predecessors lacked was a vision of potential, and that any hierarchy, no matter its age, was malleable, and she could prove it. If it meant groveling at their feet a while longer, then so be it.

 Book I, Chapter 4.1

    Chapter 4


    Boro


    Timofie Pueson may have been the Captain, in the strictest sense of the word, but Boro Stevin knew that the Forseti was his ship. Captain Pueson spent the majority of his time holed-up on the bridge, likely staring into the great black beyond; a pastime that would have left someone with a hungrier intellect starved to death. Not to mention that he willingly chose to never set foot inside a stasis pod. There were a handful of such weirdos on board, including the Thorian and the Techever.


    Pueson¡¯s captainly attention was largely limited to the dozen or so Navy personnel in the mostly Human crew, though he did seem to wear as a badge of pride each occasional debriefing or chance encounter in the galley with the civilian side of their operation. After each such meeting, Captain Pueson would go on at length about how even though this was first and foremost a military operation, it served to have an appreciation for everything that was going on aboard the ship. The fact that Pueson would muse about this in that soft voice that Boro considered unbecoming of a ship¡¯s captain, always added a sprinkle of irony to this lecture, particularly coming from an otherwise tall imposing man crowned by a round head that was covered in short dark hair that seemed desperate to crawl away in every direction.


    Captain Pueson was one of those dime-a-dozen officers of the ORC Navy fleet, contributing not so much to regression but at the very least to the stagnation of Human potential in the Known Reaches. Himself Boro saw primarily as the son of Admiral Avanthy Stevin, hero of the battle of Krevali that concluded the War of the Last Gasp. This made Boro an heir to the kind of bold leadership that could pave Humanity¡¯s way through the stars. He therefore chose to bring more hands than mouth to this hands-on approach to the ship, preferring to seep like blood into every corner of the Forseti, sometimes even when it was on stasis rotation. The ship ran on a standard Navy schedule with a maximum of one week in pods and a minimum of two weeks out. Boro largely adhered to the regime, except for the occasional day that he spent mostly alone with the ship, away from the cranky civilians who were used to clocking themselves out for large chunk of a journey and, lacking discipline to keep themselves occupied for long periods of time, did not appreciate being forced to bend their schedules to the ORC Navy crew.


    Despite the preference to free-roam his domain, even Boro was beholden to official mandatory duty schedules, which is how he found himself bidding a reluctant goodbye to Ory Sufai, the ship¡¯s doctor, and Aimi Ishikawa, the head engineer, and heading from the galley down to the bridge.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    When Boro entered the bridge, a domed room that had just the right space for the seven to eight individuals that were normally stationed there, with a recessed platform in the middle for the pilot¡¯s chair, Captain Pueson barely moved his head in acknowledgement. ¡°Commander Stevin, it¡¯s been so long I was afraid I wouldn¡¯t recognize you the next time I saw you.¡± It had been two days since Boro¡¯s last bridge shift, though he supposed that when your surroundings change as frequently as that of a lonely hilltop tree, that would be the equivalent of half an eternity.


    Still, Surch Guraty chuckled from the pilot¡¯s chair. ¡°The disguised prince returns from mingling with the common folk.¡±


    The Captain gave his own version of a chuckle, which was more of a whispered wheeze, and went back to his work.


    Boro crossed his arms and stood on the main floor, behind and slightly above Surch, studying the massive display at the head of the bridge, which was currently showing the sector map. Surch, who primarily flew fighters on sub-light engines for most of his career, found it unsettling that when skimming subspace on long hauls there was no frame of reference to be seen for the pilot outside the ship but a darkness devoid even of starlight.


    ¡°How are we doing for time?¡± Boro asked as the sector map zoomed out to encompass their destination.


    ¡°About four weeks out of Yshot Station,¡± Surch replied, his hand resting on one of the molded spheres in his chair¡¯s armrests that served as his controls. ¡°Which is about two days better than we were expecting. I haven¡¯t flown anything that required so little in terms of manual course corrections. You could probably put me in cold storage right now and we¡¯d still get to that wormhole right on schedule.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to forget because it doesn¡¯t look like much, but the Forseti is a credit to the ORC fleet,¡± Captain Pueson pointed out. Surch threw a conspiratorial look back at Boro. The Captain may have felt the need to pump the tires of the ORC, but with only one Wentry on board and no Fusirs, this was clearly a Human ship despite the odd incursion here and there from alien species.


    ¡°Only four short weeks, huh,¡± Boro said under his breath.


    ¡°Something troubling you, Commander?¡± Pueson asked.


    ¡°Not so much ¡®troubling¡¯, but a sense that the bridge is about to get a bit too crowded.¡±


    ¡°You talking about the Thorian? Seems like a decent enough guy,¡± Surch replied.


    ¡°For a Thorian,¡± Boro added.


    ¡°That goes without saying.¡±


    Surch tended to share Boro¡¯s belief that the non-Navy members of the crew were a nuisance foisted upon them as a result of political appeasements rather than sound military decision making, but unlike Boro, who believed it was a leader¡¯s responsibility to make sure that even a nuisance should be studied and put to good use, Surch took the Captain¡¯s approach, preferring to hole up in the ¡°brain¡± of the ship as he liked to call it. This disappointed Boro, given that during their Academy days together Surch Guraty showed a lot of promise, but now on their first commission in years, Surch was merely the pilot while Boro rose as high as second-in-command.


    ¡°I have no problem with Mr. Mikarik as an individual,¡± Boro continued. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I have to like him being here with us on a daily basis.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 4.2

    ¡°You¡¯re concerned that we shouldn¡¯t trust the Thorian?¡± Captain Pueson asked, as if Boro¡¯s response would make any difference as to how this mission would be conducted.


    With Surch and Pueson, Boro may have been a bit more unrestrained in his answer, but there was one other individual on the bridge, the Parsk Nahur. The weapons specialist hovered over his console meekly, despite his height, though he loudly announced his presence with the heavy perfume he used to mask his species¡¯ incredibly offensive aroma. Two massive cheek pouches rested on his permanently hunched shoulders and stored and absorbed slowly dissolving food within their fleshy confines. Between this, their lack of hair, and the open nose through which they talked, the Parsk Nahur were not the most pleasant experience to be around. Pueson stood right over him, and Boro wondered how he could stand it. Whoever thought assigning a Parsk Nahur to a bridge position possessed a twisted sense of humour that Boro almost admired.


    ¡°I know Mikarik has been vetted to death by those far better at judging character than me,¡± Boro preempted the pacifying assurances he knew the Captain was ready to sling at him, ¡°but having him here, looking over our shoulders, breathing down our necks. He already makes most of the crew nervous, and having him up here isn¡¯t going to help much. Meslina will certainly be less than pleased.¡±


    ¡°Officer Meslina is a professional, and I¡¯m sure she will handle herself professionally whatever the circumstances. And I would expect the same from you, Commander,¡± Captain Pueson said in his usually hushed tones, making it impossible to determine if this was an actual admonishment.


    ¡°I would expect the same from myself, Captain. But I have my own responsibilities to this crew, which is why I want to be on the record that I¡¯m not happy with this arrangement.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to be happy.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s one of my biggest problems with the Navy, honestly,¡± Surch chimed in. ¡°If Boro is on the record over his complaint, I want that one to be mine.


    A non-committal smile crossed Captain Pueson¡¯s lips. ¡°Thank you, Lieutenant Guraty. What we¡¯re here for is the mission, and you know as well as I that we¡¯re not going to navigate through the expanse of the Thorian Empire without insider knowledge, even while ghosted.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°That¡¯s just it.¡± Boro continued, ¡°I still don¡¯t think we need to needle right through it. With enough provisions we could¡¯ve skirted around the edges of Dead Space and no one would be the wiser. No Thorians to worry about on the outside, and certainly none to worry about on the inside.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re fully aware that we don¡¯t have the luxury of that kind of time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fully aware that the science team is worried that the wormhole might close before we get there and they have a chance to play around in it. A science team full of Iastret, mind you, who¡¯re not the ones who have to keep this ship together while we¡¯re carrying a fox in the henhouse.¡±


    Whatever the Captain had to say in response was interrupted by the blare of the intercom which the Parsk Nahur flicked on with his fleshy finger.


    ¡°Pueson here.¡±


    ¡°Captain, this is Dr. Sufai. I¡¯m in the galley and there¡¯s a uh ¡­ disagreement and it might end up needing my attention, so ¡­¡± As if offered as evidence, the intercom caught the clang of metal in the background, and Pueson turned to Boro.


    ¡°Do you mind taking this one?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    Surch turned around in his chair and looked up at Boro. ¡°Leaving us so soon? Look at you, it¡¯s like your whole day is ruined.¡±


    Boro only smiled wider at the accusation. ¡°I¡¯m sure this won¡¯t take more than a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not, but the paperwork will. Glad it¡¯s you and not me.¡±


    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want to come up with me, be an extra witness?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good right here.¡± Surch patted both the steering spheres and turned his attention back to the screen.


    Pilots. Boro couldn¡¯t understand it ¨C how they could sit all day in those chairs, but I guess that¡¯s why they made them even more luxurious than the ones set aside for the Captains.


    Other than the more utilitarian parts of the ship, like the bridge and the engine room, the Forseti did its best to make its inhabitants forget that they were even on a starship. Heavy-duty blue carpets layered over laminate flooring lined the public areas of the ship, while plasticized wood paneling covered the bulk of its interior walls, giving the reinforced wood a slight sheen but otherwise to an undiscerning eye passing for unmodified material straight from the homeworld. Screens depicting passing scenery were fitted into the walls like windows, creating the illusion that they were not actually hurtling through the bleakness of subspace.


    Unlike long-haul passenger liners where most were expected to put themselves in stasis, the Forseti had personal cabins for each crewmember that made efficient use of space but were decorated with the same faux-windows and a few drought-tolerant plants. Boro tried experimenting with a static landscape, but knowing that he was on a constantly moving object made for an unsettling effect.


    On today¡¯s visual menu were purple and green flats speckled by lakes of varying sizes. If Boro had to guess, they were soaring over Mrabr, the Mraboran homeworld. It wouldn¡¯t have been Boro¡¯s first pick as he preferred to bask in something closer to home.

 Book I, Chapter 4.3

    As Boro took the elevator back up to the galley, Boro wondered what could have went down there in the short amount of time that he was gone. By and large, everyone still seemed to be coexisting peacefully. Though it wouldn¡¯t have been Boro¡¯s ship if he hadn¡¯t been aware of a few conflagrations of tempers over the past couple of weeks. A few days ago, he had received another call from Sufai, whose voice on the other end of the line was beginning to make him jumpy. What he found was Tuka Rose, one of the maintenance crew, with bruised knuckles and a swollen thumb, tight-lipped about what had punched his hand that badly, so all Boro managed to gather was that some form of card game had been involved. Boro didn¡¯t push it ¨C at least they were still trying to cover for each other.


    Perhaps the situation up in the galley wouldn¡¯t be as bad as he imagined. The Doctor didn¡¯t seem terribly phased when she relayed the news, and she struck him as someone who would be phased easily ¨C slight of build and with a voice that made the young face seem even more inexperienced, he figured she would be particularly sensitive to the friendly ribbing that came as second nature to more hardened Navy types.


    ---


    When Boro entered the galley, a space equipped with booths and tables and more mood lighting than one would have expected from a starship, he made a note that perhaps he owed Dr. Sufai a mental apology. She was standing off to the side, next to the comms panel with her arms crossed. Dark wavy hair framed a rounded face whose brown skin with reddish undertones indicated her family¡¯s origins as perhaps somewhere in the islands of the Mer Pacific. Only a slight frown signaled her displeasure with the fact that Meslina was in the process of showing her officer¡¯s professionalism by trying to reach over the food counter and grab Meeron Thuliga, the ship¡¯s cook and steward, likely not with the intent of pulling him into a warm embrace.


    ¡°Typical milkweed,¡± Meeron laughed as he moved sideways against Meslina¡¯s attempt to jump the counter. ¡°If you can¡¯t control, you what, beat it up? Got soft in the brain while we do all the hard work. What are you gonna do when you get over here? Cook something for yourself for once? Be my guest.¡±


    ¡°Should¡¯ve been bombed from orbit,¡± Meslina snarled, flipping a dish from the counter and smashing it against the wall beside Meeron. Boro moved his way slowly around the tables and towards the commotion and caught sight of Dr. Sufai staring at him, her eyes blazing with the question of why he hadn¡¯t yet stopped it. But she was a civ, she didn¡¯t understand that sometimes tempers needed to flare before they burned off.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Get out of my kitchen, milkweed,¡± Meeron said flatly, wiping food debris from his apron. That word; ¡®milkweed¡¯. Even mashed together in a ship that was lightyears away from Human space, the divide between Earth and the colonies, the heirs to the homeworld and those who felt they thanklessly dragged Humanity forward by the sweat of their brows, all the disagreements and the senseless insults that came with it, was showing its ugly head on the Forseti.


    ¡°Get out.¡± Meeron gestured to the door. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you need to shove protein bars up your ass for the next year. Get out!¡± As Meeron finished, his hand, unseen even by Boro, slipped behind him and flung a heavy pan in Meslina¡¯s direction. She moved her head, but it still grazed her in the mouth. Before she managed to slam into the counter, possibly taking it off its hinges, Boro squeezed in front of her.


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey!¡± He boomed, making sure it struck fear even into Tuka Rose, the maintenance engineer sitting in the back and trying desperately to pretend that he wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard of not biting the hand that feeds?¡± Boro asked Meslina, whose eyes were still locked onto her pray.


    ¡°Has he heard of knowing his place?¡± She answered.


    Meeron responded with an obscene gesture though the anger in his face seemed to subside slightly at the sight of Meslina¡¯s bloodied lip. ¡°Needs to have a thicker skin about being a milkweed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re on a ship together.¡± Boro made sure to over-articulate each word and emphasize it with a movement of his head. ¡°This is our place.¡± He turned behind him to Meeron. ¡°You are not going to starve my Comms officer, you understand?¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡± Then, looking past Boro at Meslina, he added, ¡°I¡¯d check your food extra careful though.¡±


    Meslina¡¯s body only made the barest of movements in response to the provocation.


    ¡°Meeron!¡± Boro used the tone of voice he was convinced was incapable of being produced by Captain Pueson¡¯s vocal cords.


    ¡°Alright, alright.¡± Meeron put up his hands. ¡°Sorry, boss.¡±


    ¡°And you,¡± Boro turned to face Meslina, ¡°Take some time to cool off, maybe get in stasis early this rotation. And get checked out by Dr. Sufai.¡±


    Meslina looked at the bloody sleeve she dabbed at her face and then back up at Boro. ¡°By the vet? No thanks.¡± With that, she shrugged out of Boro¡¯s grip, and headed out the door.


    Dr. Sufai remained where she stood, unflappable, and then with a shrug, went back to her unfinished meal. Tuka Rose tried his hardest to show that his interest lay entirely in his food and not in what had just transpired. Boro knew the food. It was not at all as interesting as that. Meeron was busying about his kitchen, not bothering to look like anything had happened, and leaving the food splatter on his apron.


    Boro took a deep breath. Surch was right, this was going to require some paperwork.

 Book I, Chapter 4.4

    It wasn¡¯t hard for Boro to imagine how things had probably gone down in the galley between when he left and when they received Dr. Sufai¡¯s call. Meeron was born and raised on Bykol, a largely agricultural world near the borders of the Human Interstellar Dependency, and had only moved off-world a few years earlier. Meslina had cut her teeth out of the Academy almost twenty years earlier during the Unification Resistance, when some of Earth¡¯s outermost colonies, particularly the self-sufficient ones including Bykol, rejected the authority of the newly formed ORC ¨C Outer Rim Confederacy, which joined the Humans, Winti and Fusir into a single alliance. Unlikely that Meslina and Meeron ever actually saw any combat on opposite sides of each other, but the tension was still there. Someone looked at someone sideways. Someone probably dropped the word ¡°rockhopper¡±, used by homeworlders to elicit an image of tiny insignificant rocks even though they were sometimes two or even three times larger than Earth itself. That¡¯s probably when ¡°milkweed¡± was tossed back. Normally these things could be laughed-out, a sort of competition as to who could take the worst insult without breaking a sweat, but this whole mission was beginning to take its toll.


    The complete radio silence that was necessary to keep the ship ghosted had left everyone feeling more alone in the darkness of space than any of them were used to.


    ---


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of time to be flying ghosted,¡± Surch had said, his mouth hidden behind the brown hand that stroked his trimmed dark beard, when the Forseti¡¯s senior officers were first presented with a flight plan at their mission briefing back on Earth. Admiral Sarita Fan stood by the display, hands clasped in front of her, waiting for the room to process her presentation. Captain Pueson sat at attention, while Meslina had her arms crossed and was leaning back in her chair like Surch.


    Boro interlaced his fingers and pointed towards the map. ¡°At least there¡¯s the layover at Yshot Station.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not that kind of layover,¡± Admiral Fan corrected. ¡°The Station has been made to look mostly decommissioned, and there will be no disembarking. You¡¯ll be flying there light to make good time and then stock up to the brim for the next leg of your journey.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, about that, Admiral,¡± Surch said. ¡°From Yshot Station out beyond the Thorian frontier in what¡¯s basically a straight line? No offence to all you good folks in Intelligence but unless you¡¯ve got someone on the inside steering this, I don¡¯t see how we can stay off the Thorians¡¯ sensors, even when ghosted.¡±


    The other woman with Admiral Fan, shorter by a head and with the kind of presence that made Boro forget that she was even in the room, stepped into the light of the wall projection. ¡°Your concerns are perfectly valid, Lieutenant Guraty, but you will have all the help you¡¯ll need.¡± The Intelligence officer, who thought that introductions were an unnecessary frivolity and therefore didn¡¯t choose to share her name, looked down at her personal terminal.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I have a feeling we¡¯re not going to like this,¡± Surch said and shifted uneasily in his chair.


    ¡°Me too,¡± Meslina added.


    The display switched to a photo of a now-familiar Thorian face. The three officers of the Forseti groaned, while Captain Pueson sat implacable but for the air escaping through his slightly pursed lips.


    ¡°If there¡¯s anything you¡¯d like to say,¡± Captain Pueson said without taking his eyes off the display, ¡°now is likely the only time to do so.¡±


    The officers cast each other brief glances, professionalism and outrage vying for control under the surface, but before anyone of them could formulate a coherent sentence, the Intelligence officer continued.


    ¡°We had been working for quite some time to identify a viable asset. Mikarik may not be the ideal candidate to take down the whole Empire,¡± the pause and expression on her face suggested that this had been an Intelligence idea of a joke, but the room didn¡¯t budge from its stone-faced stare, ¡°but his experience should serve to be useful on this mission. He spent two decades doing commercial freight including a stint with the Anthar Kai where he also served for a year aboard a pirate hunter. Nearly six years in the Thorian Navy.¡±


    ¡°The Navy?¡± Surch asked with a whistle but the interruption was ignored.


    ¡°Deserted several years ago during the Nabak Insurrection where he earned two Hard-to-Kill medals ¨C an honour that only a Thorian mind would be twisted enough to cook up for enemy combatants.¡± That one actually did get a chuckle out of Surch and Meslina. ¡°There¡¯s no place for him left in the Empire, and he¡¯s been doing for-hire work on the borderlands. He knows enough about both commercial and military ship movement across the Empire to be able to plot a course that would keep you ought of sight.¡±


    Surch threw a sideways glance at Boro, who was starting to feel a bit unsettled under the Thorian¡¯s digital gaze.


    ¡°I understand he¡¯s got a colourful resume,¡± Boro started, ¡°but he¡¯s still a Thorian. Doesn¡¯t their little collective hive mind prevent them for serving other interests?¡±


    The Intelligence officer shifted a little and put on a smile. Boro was certain that it was not meant to be friendly. ¡°A ¡®hive-mind¡¯ is not exactly how we would describe Thorian collective empathy, and individual Thorians have almost as much capacity to be self-serving as the species itself. That said, it had long been rumoured that there are those among them that are severed from this collective ability to feel the mood of the species. ¡®Netkarthi¡¯ is what they¡¯re called in their general parlance, though mostly the concept is dismissed as a bogeyman, either a myth or a figment of foreign propaganda. But regardless of what the Thorians¡¯ official line is, it is our understanding that they do exist, and that Mikarik is one of them. If there¡¯s anyone to rely on for this mission, it¡¯s him, and you can be assured of that.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 4.5

    ¡°You have to pardon my crude metaphor,¡± Boro replied in response to the Intelligence officer¡¯s assurances over the Thorian¡¯s viability as an asset, ¡°but if you tell me a lion¡¯s got no teeth or claws and ask me to spend a night in its cage, it doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll be sleeping. Between Nabak, the Hatvan Troubles, and the Last Gasp, we¡¯ll have people who either fought against them or knew somehow who did.¡± He could feel Meslina stiffen in the chair next to his. ¡°There¡¯s got to be a better way. If you can just go back to the previous screen.¡± The Intelligence officer obliged. ¡°Admiral, you said we¡¯re getting a full load of provisions at Yshot Station in any event. So why not just take the longer way around ¨C would be far easier to snake down the border of Vaparozh territory, head a ways deep into Dead Space and then follow the borders of the Thorian Empire. And with barely any ships around, we can make better time without comprising our ghost.¡±


    Admiral Fan stepped in then and the Intelligence officer once more took a step away and absorbed nearly her entire presence back into herself. Boro made a mental note to keep track of her, but moments later found himself neglecting to remember that she was around.


    ¡°Your proposal, Commander Stevin, would still put you almost a month outside of your estimated arrival,¡± Admiral Fan explained. ¡°A month that you likely don¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°Better get there a month late, than not get there at all.¡± Boro hadn¡¯t bothered to consider the possibility that his retort was out of line, but then Captain Pueson added his voice to the conservation.


    ¡°We will get there, Commander Stevin. And we will get there on the timeline urged by our Iastret allies.¡±


    ¡°If the Iastret want to get there that badly, then they should fly there themselves, they¡¯ve got a much shorter trip, and the wings for it to boot.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite enough, Commander.¡± Pueson¡¯s voice dropped by a few degrees and Boro made sure to keep his eyes on Admiral Fan and off his Captain. ¡°One of the founding principles of the Outer Rim Confederacy was to show that we could do better; that the rest of the Known Reaches had been missing out while Humans languished in their own little corner of space. This means showing that we have an ability to work with anyone out there, even with someone who had formerly been an enemy.¡± The Captain stood then, walking in measured steps to stand next to the Admiral. He may have initially chosen to sit with his people, but now he stood in front of them like a class of sullen schoolchildren ¨C the message was clear as to who was in charge at the end of the day. ¡°There are aspects of this mission that are uncomfortable, I¡¯m not going to deny you that. But at all times you have to keep in mind that if we¡¯re successful, we may be able to redraw the political map of the Known Reaches with the ORC, and by extension, Humanity, at its highest place. And once we¡¯re there, I expect that we can show that military and technological superiority can be shared instead of hoarded, and it will start on this ship. Is that understood by everyone?¡± Captain Pueson¡¯s expression was a mix of warmth and sternness that only made Boro queasy, but he nodded and agreed along with the other two, and the Captain seemed sufficiently pacified, though did not relinquish his new spot at the head of the room.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    If this sermon was any indication, this was gearing up to be a longer trip than Boro anticipated. To either side of him, some of the tension seemed to go out of Surch and Meslina¡¯s spines, and they nodded. Boro always suspected this soft spot in Surch ever since their Academy days, one of the things that likely prevented him from rising as high as Boro had if they were in the same graduating class. Meslina though had initially struck him as someone who would have resisted this gradual erosion of the pride that Boro believed should have been the core tenet of Humanity¡¯s continued foray into the Known Reaches.


    Boro, for his part, believed that it was no coincidence that the Human feet that included his father had been so instrumental at the Battle of Krevali and the Thorian¡¯s defeat in the War of the Last Gasp shortly thereafter. Humanity, as other races would put it, even those who spent millennia under the boot of someone else¡¯s empire, was late to the party. What these others had not considered, and what apparently more and more of the Navy high brass were losing their grasp on, was that the outsider¡¯s perspective gave Humanity a fresh outlook, a clearer view into the stagnation that gripped the Known Reaches, where, save for the Last Gasp, the landscape had for years been defined by minor tussles. As a countermeasure to the Thorian Empire, came the ever-increasing idea of cooperation amongst all those who were not Thorian, which solidified the status quo, and therefore Humanity¡¯s place on the periphery.


    ¡°To your earlier point, Commander Stevin,¡± Admiral Fan continued with a light smile, ¡°part of the Iastret research team that has been studying Drain Vortexes since their last appearance and that have been instrumental in identifying their potential will be joining you on board as well.¡±


    The Admiral then continued into a more detailed breakdown of what they were up against, complete with slide after slide of charts and graphs that made Boro think that if he hadn¡¯t paid much attention to astrography during the Academy days it was decidedly too late to start now. And in any case, he had sufficient understanding to let the Iastret do their business without confounding him too much.

 Book I, Chapter 4.6

    What Boro did know, is that Drain Vortexes were, by and large, a useless cosmic phenomenon. Appearing within or around the Known Reaches once every twenty or thirty years, they allowed for well-shielded ships to travel through them over great distances in a fraction of what it normally took, which on the surface sounded appealing, but the wormholes usually led to some random desolate spot in Dead Space and had the irritating tendency of collapsing on themselves without warning after only a few months. When the Iastret lost several ships to the sudden closing of the last Drain Vortex, leaving more than a hundred of their people stranded about six years from Iastret space with provisions to barely last a year, one would have assumed all interest in the wormholes would have faded. This would have been true for pretty much any other species, except the Iastret were crafted from a different cloth, and as though proving the utility of the wormholes would somehow avenge their lost people, they set out to dissect the data they had collected in earnest.


    What they found was whereas the technology currently used for faster-than-light travel was able to skip a vessel along the surface of subspace, the Drain Vortexes acted as a whirlpool that created a passage of normal space through the surrounding subspace. They further concluded that with the right equipment and technical expertise the details of which made Boro¡¯s mind slip through his own Drain Vortex to a secluded beach somewhere in the Mer Pacific, a ship could penetrate through the walls of the wormhole, and find itself fully immersed in subspace. From there, provided that everyone on board the ship survived the journey, which the Iastret whole-heartedly assured they would, the data that would be collected would be analyzed to allow the ship to puncture a hole back into normal space, and then freely back and forth, cutting down interstellar travel times down to fractions.


    To get this mission financed, the Iastret had essentially promised the whole galaxy ¨C  if there was anything of worth out there beyond Dead Space ¨C a crossing that would theoretically take almost half a century would take less than a year. And similarly, a crossing of the entire Known Reaches would be a matter of a mere couple days and not six months.


    The Iastret were smart. This was a truth generally acknowledged, like the fact that the Thorians were arrogant bastards, and that the Hatvan were stuck-up bastards. But were the Iastret smart enough to break through the surface of subspace without crushing the ship to the size of a grain of sand? Boro wasn¡¯t sure how keen he was to be a willing participant in that experiment.


    Not to mention that what remained unsaid during that briefing, despite hovering like a cold razor against the necks of the whole crew, was the main reason why the ship had to maximize its provisions at Yshot Station. This wormhole¡¯s other end was flung out about a four years¡¯ journey into Dead Space. If it were to collapse when they were on the other side, or worse, while they were still in it, best case scenario was being stranded several years¡¯ journey from home without a single planet with even a shred of organic life along the way.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Less than a week after the incident in the galley, just when Meslina started showing her face there again and even shared a laugh with Meeron as if nothing even happened but for the slight undertone that if something were to ever happen again, one of them might not live to laugh about it, Boro thought that he could make it to the end of the rotation without another pressure valve releasing all over his day.


    He was on bridge duty, a place that had frequently grown more crowded and where he was forced to appear more and more often. Yshot Station itself was in a far-flung corner of Iastret space near the frontier of the Thorian Empire, but the quickest way there lay through relatively dense confluence of Iastret and Vaparozh space, which required a bit more vigilance to stay off sensors. Increased vigilance, however, was pretty much where the excitement peaked and Boro spent most of the time on the bridge talking to Surch and trying not to gag whenever the Parsk Nahur moved and wafted some of his strong aroma in Boro¡¯s direction.


    The little cautioning sound that came from Surch¡¯s console nearly startled Boro into a call for red alert.


    ¡°Report.¡± Boro ordered.


    ¡°Report?¡± Surch chuckled. ¡°I know you¡¯ve got your infinite love for paperwork, but I don¡¯t think I can squeeze an essay out of this one.¡±


    ¡°Just tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Rounding down? Absolutely nothing. Looks like there¡¯s a small drop in power to engines, but nothing worth writing home about.¡±


    Surch had been using the phrase more and more frequently as they neared Yshot Station ¨C the one time they would be given the opportunity to write home before going off the grid as they entered Thorian space. The way Surch joked, nothing ever happened on the ship that was worth writing home about and claimed that the only content of his communication back to Earth would be, ¡°Hey ma, send samosas.¡±


    The alarm and the problem it identified were trivial, but trying to sneak a ghosted ship through a narrow strip between busy shipping lanes made Boro all the more aware that all trivial problems had ambitions to become something greater. Even if Surch, who was used to mostly flying single-person starfighters that required looking at issues with a narrow lens, was unphased by it, Boro liked to think there was a reason he had earned a command position well ahead of his classmate, and that was his ability to see the big picture. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a reliable insight into the big picture was conspicuously quiet.


    Maggie Okoth, the Techever, was standing leaning with her back against the far curved wall of the bridge. She never sat, which for whatever reason bothered Boro.


    ¡°Maggie, you have a read for me on that engine trouble?¡± Boro asked.


    Surch cleared his throat.


    ¡°On that minor engine abnormality that Lieutenant Guraty guarantees won¡¯t kill us in the long run.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± the Techever answered, a baffling smile across her lips.


    ¡°Nope?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much a big ¡®nope¡¯.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 4.7

    There was some sort of occupational requirement for Techevers to be a bit different. A generous way to describe them would be ¡®loopy¡¯; however, Boro suspected that ¡°absolutely unhinged¡± was a more appropriate label. And though some of the kinks have been worked out of this experiment that was now in its second decade, as self-induced attrition among them was at an all-time low, Boro still believed they were largely a hindrance, rather than the promised ultimate link between human and machine.


    Boro took a deep breath and cocked his head to the side. ¡°Okay Maggie, you¡¯re going to have to walk me through this one.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Engineer Ishikawa made it very clear that if I go rooting around her systems again without her permission, that she will personally, and I quote ¡®Rip all those little dangly things from my fingers and shove them all the way ¨C ¡¯¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Maggie, that¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? It went on for quite some time and I¡¯ve got it all pretty much committed to memory.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Too bad. Aimi has a fantastic command of language and an absolute arsenal of synonyms for various body parts.¡±


    Boro had no answer but threw back a pleading look at Surch, who shrugged and said, ¡°That sounds like your bread and butter, Commander.¡±


    ---


    When he entered the engine room, nothing told Boro that anything was out of the ordinary. Aimi moved in fits and spurts, punching at buttons in a way that put about five times more wear and tear on them than necessary, but this was standard operating procedure for the Head Engineer. The engines themselves hummed away peacefully, stretched along either side of the room. As Boro walked between them towards the back of the room where the reactor was located, Aimi continued to ignore him as the two other engineers on duty cast furtive glances between him and their boss. At the heart of the reactor stood a translucent chamber where, suspended at its centre, was a black glassy ball about the width of Boro¡¯s thumbnail that not only provided the ship with power but also the necessary touch of inexplicable magic needed for it to skim the surface of subspace at speeds that were magnitudes above the speed of light. When he leaned in to take a closer look at the quivering shadow that enveloped it, Aimi appeared behind him and asked, ¡°Surely, we shouldn¡¯t have to expect an inspection every time there¡¯s a minor hiccup down here?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Inspection?¡± Boro feigned surprise with two innocently raised eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯d think of it as more of a house call.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you prefer to call, I think it hardly warrants any attention.¡±


    ¡°And what is ¡®it¡¯, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Just the drop being temperamental, nothing new, especially with this one.¡± Aimi threw up her chin in the direction of the black sphere behind Boro.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where it¡¯s been repurposed from, but it¡¯s seen some things over its lifetime. Not sure who in their right mind thought that it was a good idea to make it power a skimmer and keep the ship ghosted for several months at a time. It acts up here and there, so I¡¯m forced to make decisions as to what bears the brunt of its moods. And considering that the ghost is what¡¯s keeping the ship alive, a figured a little drop of speed would be nothing to write home about.¡±


    Boro¡¯s lip curled into the start of a smile, wondering how it was that the time Aimi and Surch were evidently spending together had slipped past his attention.


    ¡°Maybe we could have skipped this whole conversation if you allowed Maggie to do her job,¡± Boro suggested.


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s why you¡¯re here.¡± Aimi, as if having completely lost all interest, continued her rounds of instruments and displays.


    ¡°I hear there may have been an exchange of words.¡±


    ¡°In all fairness to Maggie, it was a very one-sided exchange.¡±


    ¡°I figured,¡± Boro said with a smirk that must somehow have been audible since Aimi wheeled on him.


    ¡°Commander, maybe it¡¯s easy for you, squirreled away on your bridge, to forget what¡¯s going on elsewhere on the ship, but from where I¡¯m standing, it¡¯s hardly pretty.¡± Her glasses slipped down a slightly long pale nose, the lights of the engine room accentuating the hard set of her jaw. ¡°Some genius, in the Navy, mind you, these are your friends here, gave us a drop that¡¯s more fit to power a very large toaster instead of an ORC starship. Some other genius, or maybe it¡¯s the same genius, decided to give a Thorian free reign of the ship. My second¡¯s a Nabak, gitang it, how do you think that affects him when that smug bumpy-headed asshole pokes his head in? And on top of that, no matter what I¡¯m doing, no matter what I¡¯m in the middle of, I¡¯ve got that Techever rooting around in my systems, telling me how to do my job.¡±


    Boro barely opened his mouth to speak when Aimi put up her hand, her fingers spread. ¡°I know they¡¯re the Navy¡¯s favourite toy right now, but I¡¯ve never worked with a Techever before. No one even bothered to tell me there was one on board this ship until one day Maggie calls down and tries to tell me how to run my engines. Commander, I¡¯ve been an engineer on a comet chaser that was basically just cobbled together spare parts and I feel like that was run better than the Forseti.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re exaggerating.¡±


    ¡°Well if you¡¯re finding nothing unusual, then I¡¯m really concerned about the state of our Navy.¡± She turned away before she finished her sentence, and Boro followed her silently as she walked to a panel at the opposite end of the engine room and started typing in commands.

 Book I, Chapter 4.8

    Boro hovered patiently trying not breathe too loudly behind the Head Engineer.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to leave before I allow Maggie access back into my systems, are you?¡± Aimi asked without looking up at him, fingers busy at the console.


    ¡°I know this is an unusual situation for you, and if I was in your place, I¡¯d have some choice words about the Navy too.¡± Was it possible to see someone rolling their eyes while looking at the back of their head? Boro shrugged and pressed on. ¡°But first and foremost, this is a military ship.¡±


    ¡°Spare me, Commander. I¡¯ve had the pleasure of talking to Captain Pueson and I don¡¯t need him to send an echo up here.¡±


    Boro realized this was the longest she had kept still, but just as the thought passed through his mind, she was on the move again.


    ¡°On the books, the Forseti is a research vessel. As far as its organized, the Forseti is a research vessel. In its mission, the Forseti is a research vessel. But then there¡¯s the command crew, and don¡¯t get me started on your little weapons dungeon which frankly the less I know about, the better I feel. Why a research vessel needs to be armed as if we¡¯re going to fight off the entire Empire by ourselves is ¨C anyway. At the end of the day, I make sure you have air to breathe, I make sure you have running water. My team and I are busy getting the ship where you say we need it to go, and making sure that no one sees it while we¡¯re getting there. But what do I know? I¡¯m just a lowly civilian,¡± she gave him a cruel smile. ¡°I¡¯m not invited to the officers¡¯ table and yet I¡¯m supposed to accept being bossed around by a glorified personal organizer.¡±


    ¡°Is that what this is really about? A seat at the table?¡±


    To her credit, Aimi did her best to hide that she was grinding her teeth.


    ¡°What this is about, Commander.¡± Never before had his title sounded so much like some sort of derision, ¡°is that it¡¯s my job to make sure the ship doesn¡¯t come apart at the seams. And you need to do a better job of making sure the crew doesn¡¯t do the same. You can let Maggie know she can have full access again, but from now on, this is a partnership. Not a chain of command. Understood?¡±


    Boro¡¯s mind was torn between having to acquiesce to the ultimatum and repeating Pueson¡¯s words about the Forseti being first and foremost a military vessel. Both options seemed to lack the nuance that recognized that the Forseti was, on the books, a research vessel; a research vessel that was outfitted with what Aimi had so lovingly referred to as ¡°the dungeon¡±.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I will speak, to Maggie.¡± His response, spoken coolly despite the pounding he felt in his temple, didn¡¯t satisfy him, but it at least left him in the position of a benevolent compromiser. Whether that registered with the Engineer remained a mystery to Boro, since without any kind of acknowledgement or even a nod, she returned to her work.


    ---


    Back on the bridge, it took Surch one look at Boro to say, ¡°I see that went well.¡±


    Boro wanted to laugh it off, but everything in his head sounded clumsy and peevish. ¡°To Ishikawa¡¯s credit, she runs a tight ship, even if we¡¯d apparently failed to provide one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Surch asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in later. The important thing is to remember that it¡¯s expected that our civilian crew will have some adjustment difficulties, but it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interests to cooperate.¡± As he said this, he cast his glance over to Maggie, who stood in the same leaning position she had been in when he left.


    ¡°I take it the threats against my life have been rescinded?¡± She asked.


    ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡±


    ¡°Good. I like Ishikawa. She knows her ship.¡±


    ¡°Our ship.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Maggie answered with a vague smile, ¡°it¡¯s ours.¡± She then placed her left hand, the one with lighter grey veins running through her otherwise deep brown skin, over five circular holes in her console, each only a few millimetres in diameter, and metallic tubes wriggled from between her nails and each of her fingertips and inserted themselves into the entry ports.


    ---


    Most of the time, the galley was a fairly deserted place, with only a handful of people in it a time, but there were peaks, especially between shifts, when as much as half the population of the ship ate and drank together, their chatter melting together into a cheerful din. For whatever reason, though he had struck Boro as a largely solitary creature, the Thorian preferred to make his appearances during these times. Perhaps he derived a sort of pleasure from the reactions of some of the crew that filtered towards him through the room, which wouldn¡¯t have surprised Boro, because who knew what these Thorians truly derived their pleasure from. So it caused little surprise, but no small amount of irritation, when the Thorian deigned show up during the last such peak before the start of the next stasis rotation, which was about to effectively deprive the Thorian of his audience for a week.


    Most heads perked up at his entrance, faces adorned with a mix of idle to disgusted curiosity as well as freshly-sharpened eye daggers being sent towards the door of the galley. Head Engineer Ishikawa and Dr. Sufai, who often sat at the same table, were some of the few that hadn¡¯t bothered even looking up.


    The deliberate scrape of three chairs across the floor made Boro shudder, not entirely from the sound. Meslina, a junior engineer named Eframe Gonsyn, and the Nabak all rose. They left behind plates of unfinished food and headed for the galley door.

 Book I, Chapter 4.9

    The Thorian, who stood just inside the galley door, eyed the three approaching crewmembers with some interest, and perhaps expected what was coming. From where Boro was sitting, it was hard to truly discern the Thorian¡¯s expression behind the glasses that shielded his eyes from lights that had been attuned to the brightness of Humanity¡¯s homeworld. The Nabak took first honours ¨C built like a boar and with an ugly mug to match ¨C the Thorian had more than a foot on him but still took a broad shoulder into the kidney, or whatever Thorian equivalent resided in that part of the abdomen. Eframe followed in close second, this time jostling the Thorian shoulder-to-shoulder. Boro thought that Meslina would opt for something more creative but she repeated Eframe¡¯s gesture, the Thorian swaying back with each collision like a jammed revolving door.


    It was juvenile stuff, reminiscent of how cadets elbowed within the pecking order at the Academy. Boro¡¯s only regret was that Surch had just stepped out and missed it.


    Boro had always heard that a Thorian¡¯s forehead horns, though more akin to mere bumps, did something funny when they were steamed. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t seem like Boro or the others remaining in the galley were in for any sort of show. The Thorian attempted to discretely take a deep breath, straightened his shirt, and approached the counter of Meeron¡¯s kitchen.


    ¡°What do you have for me today, Meeron?¡± The Thorian asked, propping his elbows up on the counter.


    Meeron stood with his arms crossed for a moment, chewing on his lip, and then responded, his colonial accent sounding thicker than normal. ¡°Only fish.¡±


    The Thorian gave him a tight-lipped smile and surveyed the room without moving his elbows. There were only two fish dishes in the place, while the rest ate salad, or chicken or some packaged protein paste that may once upon a time have contained a certain percentage of a cow. He turned back to Meeron, who shrugged.


    ¡°Then fish it is.¡±


    When the Thorian turned around after receiving his fish portion, notably with no sides, Boro flagged him down with a curt wave.


    ¡°Mr. Mikarik,¡± Boro greeted him as the Thorian lowered himself into the chair across from Boro. Early on in their journey, Mikarik insisted that there was no ¡°Mister¡± or anything of the sort attaching to Thorian names, but eventually gave up on the corrections.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Commander,¡± the Thorian answered, poking at the fish with his fork.


    ¡°Take it you¡¯re not a big fan of fish?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly. It¡¯s far too ¡­¡±


    ¡°Fishy?¡± Boro suggested.


    ¡°Yes, I suppose for lack of a better word. We¡¯re not exactly keen on sea food. Especially the little ones, so this is a learning experience for me.¡±


    ¡°In that case, here¡¯s to learning experiences,¡± Boro said, lifting up his own forkful of flaky white meat, and after swallowing, continued. ¡°So, I¡¯ve been reading your file.¡±


    ¡°A solid indicator that it''s about time you put yourself in stasis.¡±


    Boro forced a laugh. ¡°Yes, true maybe. You¡¯ve flown during the Nabak Insurrection, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like about you, Commander, never afraid to go straight to the point.¡±


    ¡°Should I be afraid?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. But I think maybe there¡¯s reason for me to be?¡±


    It annoyed Boro that he couldn¡¯t tell whether the Thorian was smiling or not. Pretty much every sentient species smiled, a quirk of convergent evolution that seemed to be in ample supply in the Known Reaches. The Thorians that he chanced to meet though, were not as generous with the expression, and this one in particular seemed to always have his lips curled slightly to confuse Boro¡¯s Human-adjusted eyes. More to avoid the Thorian¡¯s expression than to refresh his memory, Boro picked up his personal computer tablet and, selecting a conveniently located shortcut, pulled up Mikarik¡¯s file.


    ¡°You¡¯ve seven confirmed fighter-to-fighter kills during that campaign,¡± Boro said, without lifting his eyes, and getting some satisfaction in the Thorian making the slightest move to try to read the tablet from where he was sitting.


    ¡°I¡¯m a decent pilot.¡± The Thorian leaned back in his chair.


    ¡°And a decent shot it seems.¡±


    If a single Thorian possessed an ego outside whatever collective selfishness drove the species, Boro thought that he could see it behind the tint of Mikarik¡¯s glasses and around the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°If I recall, you¡¯ve also distinguished yourself in operations that took down three larger vessels, one of which was ¡­¡±


    The sparkle of pleasure and faint smile vacated the Thorian¡¯s face, and instead took residence on Boro¡¯s.


    ¡°A Mraboran humanitarian ship, was it?¡±


    After a moment, Mikarik put his elbows on the table, the sides of his arms facing forward, and his hands clasped under his chin.


    ¡°Have you ever been in a battle, Commander? I mean a real battle. Not a training exercise, or hanging back on the sidelines while two heavy ships engage in nothing more than a cursory exchange of fire just so they can report back to their superiors that they tried? Your father has. I¡¯ve heard of him. Captain Avanthy Stevin? Admiral by now, I gather. Probably the only Human of note that I¡¯d heard of until your friends from Intelligence picked me up on Kargoosh. But beyond that, Humanity is young, and small, and in all fairness, ambitious, but it¡¯s inexperienced and is hardly in a position to criticize a power like the Empire on the conduct of war.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 4.10

    ¡°Humans are not exactly new to war, Mr. Mikarik,¡± Boro said pleasantly. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time he had to sit through a lecture from a member of another species about Humanity¡¯s neophyte status in the Known Reaches, though he preferred when the conversation took place in some dive of a bar with none of his superior officers in earshot and he felt the familiar itch in his knuckles.


    Mikarik¡¯s hand, which was carrying another forkful to his mouth, froze for a moment. The spectacle of watching the Thorian eat had lost its novelty and just made Boro lose interest in his own lunch.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m well aware of that,¡± Mikarik answered. ¡°You¡¯re so efficient at it you nearly wiped yourselves out of existence a couple of thousand years ago.¡±


    Boro cocked his head to the side, using a smile to hide what was bubbling on the surface, thinking a sneer was probably the best he was managing ¡°Probably,¡± he said, allowing his eyes to drift back down to his tablet. ¡°But you¡¯re not exactly career military yourself. That was your first major conflict, and the Mraboran incident was only your what, fifth or sixth engagement?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t necessarily speak for myself when I talk of experience. I speak for the tradition that raised me, that forged Empires when you were still climbing out of a Dark Ages you sent yourself to.¡±


    ¡°And yet here you are,¡± Boro looked up again and spread his hands in a gesture that meant to encompass the whole ship, ¡°supposedly turning your back on that tradition and betraying the Empire you now defend.¡±


    ¡°My relationship with the Empire is my own.¡± The Thorian lowered his forearms, picked up a generous forkful of fish and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing it with his eyes pinned on Boro through his glasses. ¡°And it¡¯s complicated.¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt about that, but that¡¯s not how our Nabak sees it.¡±


    ¡°You mean Sivian?¡±


    It was that damned ghost of a smile again.


    ¡°Yes, Sivian,¡± Boro gritted through his teeth.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think he does.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he should?¡± Boro asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of what happened towards the end of that war.¡±


    ¡°I do, but that hardly did nothing to undo what already happened, did it?¡±


    Was that really a tinge of regret that Boro saw creep across the Thorian¡¯s face and disappear? Were they even capable of regret? Dr. Sufai might know, or else that Vaparozh xenologist, one of them could shed a light on whether he was only seeing things, but in any case, the Thorian had no answer so Boro pressed on.


    ¡°The Mraboran have likely not forgotten.¡±


    ¡°Good thing we don¡¯t have any Mraboran on board,¡± the Thorian remarked.


    ¡°But we do have a Nabak.¡±


    ¡°I noticed.¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed how the rest of the crew act around you.¡±


    ¡°Is there a point to all this, Commander?¡± The Thorian asked with a deep sigh and a long look at his plate. ¡°Because between this conversation and the revolting fish, I¡¯d sooner focus on my lunch.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Mikarik, I¡¯m in a delicate position.¡± Boro dropped his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve got a Comms Officer, a very capable experienced officer, unable to take some sporty ribbing from my ship¡¯s steward. I¡¯ve got a civilian Head Engineer who¡¯s having a hard time working with my Techever. I¡¯ve got maintenance crew showing up in medbay because of a game of cards, and above all,¡± Boro looked around and leaned in conspiratorially, ¡°there¡¯s a Captain who is so focused on the smooth operations of the bridge that he believes that the rest of the ship is running as smoothly.¡±


    ¡°But you know what they all have in common, Mr. Mikarik?¡± Boro relaxed back into his chair, making sure to project his next sentence. ¡°None of them particularly like that there¡¯s a Thorian on board. You¡¯re not in a great position either, and maybe that was my mistake. Maybe that¡¯s how I failed my crew. I made you feel too comfortable. We¡¯re barely one week out of Yshot Station, and you¡¯ll gain access to the only place on the ship that¡¯s so far been free of your presence. There¡¯s a Captain there who might be tempted to make the same mistakes I have. And I¡¯ll be there to make sure that he doesn¡¯t. I just wanted you to know that before it becomes a problem between the two of us.¡± He gave the Thorian a purposefully fake smile, and rose from the table. ¡°As you said, I should let you return to your lunch. Enjoy.¡±


    The Thorian watched him as Boro tucked in his chair, pocketed his tablet and then turned his back to place his empty dishes on the kitchen counter. Only then did the Thorian call out to him, in his cold voice that often gave Boro an uncomfortable tickling sensation behind his ears. ¡°Commander.¡±


    Boro turned around, saying nothing.


    ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true though, is it?¡± The Thorian continued. ¡°There¡¯s one person that doesn¡¯t mind that I¡¯m on board. Someone who¡¯s quite pleased with the fact that they have a handy excuse in their arsenal, and can blame all their personal failings on the Thorian.¡±


    This time, before he turned to leave, Boro was sure that it was, in fact, a smile.

 Book I, Chapter 4.11

    The conversation with the Thorian stayed with Boro during the days that followed. It irked him like benign parasite residing beneath the skull in the back of his head. A new stasis rotation had begun, and with that, half the military crew and most of the civilians went into their pods for a week, scheduled to come out about a day before they reached Yshot Station.


    But not the Thorian. He lurked somewhere in the ship, and it bothered Boro to acknowledge that even as second-in-command, he actively avoided the galley to steer clear of their next conversation. Tonight though, after a long bridge shift that ended at an hour when even the Thorian would be sane enough to head to bed, he thought he would be safe.


    ¡°Want to head up for a bite to eat?¡± Surch asked. ¡°Meeron said he¡¯s left hot meals to last a few days.¡±


    ¡°I hope it¡¯s fish,¡± Boro answered under his breath.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Surch chuckled.


    ¡°Never mind.¡±


    ¡°Careful there, Boro, who¡¯s going to do all that paperwork once you¡¯ve cracked as well?¡±


    Boro tried to laugh, but all he managed was an exhale and to walk slightly less slumped.


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± Surch added, glancing behind his shoulder. ¡°You think Maggie will be okay there all by herself?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. She breathes this ship. If anything, she¡¯s better off being plugged in. Without all that data flowing through it, I imagine a mind like hers would get bored pretty fast.¡±


    ¡°Must take a weird one to do what she¡¯s doing.¡± Surch¡¯s voice dropped, even though they were well out of earshot of the bridge by then. ¡°I hear that half of them crack before they¡¯ve had the implants for a full year.¡±


    ¡°I hear half of them crack before they even get them.¡±


    When they reached the galley, they were surprised to find that Meeron had not in fact turned in, and that he had company to boot. In the dimmed lights of the galley, they could see Meeron pouring three drinks from a dusty bottle full of dark liquid, as the intended recipients sat huddled at a nearby table ¨C Meslina, the Nabak, and Eframe Gonsyn. The little scene froze upon the entry of the two officers. Meslina, who had her back turned to them, let out a resigned sigh.


    ¡°Commander! Lieutenant!¡± Meeron started cheerfully, then paused, and in a swift motion downed a drink with one hand and pulled out two more glasses from underneath the counter with the other. ¡°Care to join us?¡±


    Boro looked at Surch, who shrugged and said, ¡°Count me in.¡±


    Boro took the empty chair next to Meslina and Surch pulled one up from the adjacent table and sat on it backwards, his legs straddling the back of the chair and arms resting over it. Surch maintained a smile while Boro tried to keep his expression cold and level, playing the part of the stern Second-in-Command who¡¯s willing to listen.


    ¡°So, might I ask what brings you all here at this unsightly hour?¡± Surch broke the silence after it had lasted for a sufficiently uncomfortable amount of time. Eframe and the Nabak looked at each other, and then at Meslina. Meeron stepped in, placing the drinks in front of everyone but the Comms Officer. Surch gave it a short sniff, and then drank it in one gulp. ¡°And don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s the fine drink. Meeron, do us all a favour, if you¡¯re going to smuggle something on board, could you at least make it good?¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Got some choice things coming our way at Yshot Station, but, uh, you never heard it from me.¡±


    In the silence that followed, Meeron returned with a mug of steaming black tea for Meslina, who hovered her nose over the drink and took a deep inhale with her eyes closed.


    ¡°And I can see that it¡¯s not the lively conversation that¡¯s the draw of the hour either.¡± Surch moved his gaze from one person to the next, but all three avoided eye contact with both him and Boro. ¡°Hey Meeron,¡± Surch called, looked down at his drink. ¡°I didn¡¯t say stop.¡± Meeron nodded and the refill was swiftly delivered.


    Surch sipped it this time, and looked like he was about to make another attempt to break the ice, when Boro stepped in. ¡°Look, we can pretend that I don¡¯t know everything that happens on this ship, and that I don¡¯t already have a pretty good idea of why you¡¯re here. If I was in your position, I might have been at this table too, who knows. But we¡¯re here now, and we can either continue to avoid talking about why, or we can accept that we¡¯re all on the same team.¡± Boro laid his hands on the table in front of him, intertwining his fingers.


    Meslina shrugged slightly, her hands wrapped around her mug, and the Nabak spoke in his gravelly half-growl. ¡°It¡¯s the Thorian.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I recall a couple of days ago here you made your feelings about him very clear.¡±


    ¡°Any chance I get.¡±


    ¡°Get a lot of chances, do you?¡±


    ¡°You know how he is, roaming about the ship like it¡¯s his. It¡¯s how his kind treat everything ¡­ and everyone.¡±


    ¡°Like they treat Nabak?¡± Boro prompted.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Boro couldn¡¯t tell whether the Nabak was looking directly at him, or taking his cues from Meslina ¨C their species¡¯ eyes were almost entirely black, with little by way of discernible pupils or irises. It made it harder to maintain eye contact than even with the Thorian and his damnable glasses. The dense stubble that covered their entire face and the two vestigial tusks on either side of their mouth made for an ensemble that Boro did not find altogether pleasing.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s not just about Nabak, Commander.¡± Meslina paused to take a long sip of her tea and in that time Boro again wondered why she never addressed him by his name. ¡°Not many of the crew are happy about this arrangement.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re just the only ones not afraid to show it,¡± Eframe added.


    Boro tried to soften the withering look he wanted to give Eframe, which seemed to work, since the engineer¡¯s expression didn¡¯t falter.


    Surch shifted in his chair, the second drink left unfished before him. ¡°Have any of you actually tried to talk to the guy?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s more of the Commander¡¯s area, isn¡¯t it?¡± Eframe remarked, while the Nabak let out a grunt that sounded to Boro like a burst of laughter.


    ¡°Yes, Sivian?¡± Surch prompted.


    ¡°I tried once. Not sure what I was expecting. He just listened to me, with that stupid look on his face they all have where they don¡¯t try to hide that they think they¡¯re better than you. And then he said we Nabak should be so lucky that the Thorians got to us before the Hatvan did.¡±


    ¡°Charming,¡± Surch said after clearing his throat.


    ¡°You were on Nabak during the insurrection?¡± Boro asked. Every file, he¡¯d read them all, able to recite them all, opening his tablet only to make it seem like he didn¡¯t. He knew the answers before he asked the questions.


    ¡°No.¡± The Nabak¡¯s mouth contorted so it looked like all four of his tusks were aimed at a single point just in front of his face. ¡°We escaped to the Mraboran Protectorate during the last exodus, before they really tightened it up. I had family left there though, less now after the Revolution. Even less with the Butcher in charge.¡±


    Boro said nothing to this. He let the dark cloak of this silence descend over the table. Soak into all present, especially Surch, who for whatever reason seemed to have some kind of soft spot for the Thorian. Surch finished the remainder of his drink. This was a good sign.

 Book I, Chapter 4.12

    ¡°The Thorian avoids the stasis pods. But he does sleep.¡± Boro said. ¡°Looks to me like you missed him by a couple of hours. I suggest next time you steer clear of the drink.¡± Boro eyed his own, and took a long sip from it. ¡°Now go, get some sleep. It¡¯s going to be lonely and quiet here for the next week with most of the crew in stasis, Lieutenant Guraty and myself included, at least for the next couple of days. Even the Captain¡¯s got a few days off shift, though he generally also avoids the pods.¡±


    They all heard him, but he knew that it was Meslina who was the only one who understood. She finished off her tea, and rose from the table; the other two following suit.


    ¡°Goodnight, Commander, Lieutenant,¡± she said.


    ¡°Night Mez.¡± Boro gestured at her with his own drink, and soon Boro and Surch were alone as Meeron, taking the hint, left two dinner specials out for them and made himself scarce.


    ¡°You can order them all into stasis, you know,¡± Surch suggested when the double doors to the galley stopped swinging after Meeron¡¯s departure.


    ¡°Why would I need to do something like that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Intelligence will be very happy if we kill their Thorian.¡±


    ¡°Intelligence aren¡¯t the ones having to cart him around.¡±


    ¡°The Captain won¡¯t be, either.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine without him. The way he talks, I don¡¯t understand what his angle is in all this, and I think we¡¯re better off navigating through the Empire without his help. But they won¡¯t kill him either, not with Meslina around.¡±


    ¡°She lost her dad in the Last Gasp, never even had a chance to meet him,¡± Surch reminded Boro as he rolled his empty glass on the table.


    ¡°I know.¡± Every file; off by heart. ¡°But I trust her. The worst he¡¯ll get is a few dents to go along with those bumps.¡±


    Boro watched Surch¡¯s face, the pilot clenching and unclenching his jaw muscles as he righted his glass again. It had been fifteen years since they graduated and ten years since they¡¯d last seen each other after serving five months together on the starship Astarte. Since then, Surch moved from one non-descript assignment to another, stints that hardly deserved footnotes in a surprisingly bare file ¨C mostly patrols around the periphery of the Outer Rim Confederacy, as far out as the borders of the Adaract Hive. Boro wondered what happened in the meantime that would allow Surch to land a gig like the Forseti and how Surch managed to lose sight of what Boro was struggling against here, despite the long and lonely nature of Surch¡¯s own deployments, and what the two of them experienced when they were cadets.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You remember the Academy, that one Winti who always got the better of you?¡± Boro asked.


    Surch rubbed his eyes ¨C dark brown, tired and seemingly looking off into that distant past, and took a deep breath. ¡°How could I forget?¡±


    ¡°You were a better pilot, of course, but he knew how to use every quirk of the simulator to his advantage, even if it would have been completely irrelevant in the real world.¡± Even so many years after graduation, Boro could see that this was more than a little water under the bridge for Surch. ¡°Remember that night when our groups tried to settle it with a brawl?¡±


    Surch chuckled and shook his head. ¡°We thought we planned it out so well.¡±


    ¡°And yet ¡­¡±


    ¡°The Admiral had me doing gravity simulations until I threw up. Then had me clean that up and start over.¡±


    ¡°Same. That didn¡¯t solve anything though, did it?¡± Boro asked and watched whatever smile Surch had drain away from his face.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Hated each other more than ever. Until that one live exercise.¡± Surch was frowning, avoiding eye contact. He didn¡¯t need Boro to remind him of where this was going, but Boro pressed on anyway. ¡°You and the Winti were neck-and-neck for the most of it, I was bringing up the rear with a couple of his friends, until one of them had that power failure. I might have clipped their wing, or the other in the Winti¡¯s crew did. We never did figure it out. But we did receive a short burst of a distress call before they cut out. You did too, as did the Winti. We were all within range and were supposed to hold back until help arrived. But we weren¡¯t that far off the finish line. Less than an hour was it? And we assumed the pack would have been bringing up the rear, or at least that the damaged ship wouldn¡¯t drift so far from the course.¡±


    Boro paused then, listening to Surch¡¯s even breathing in the dim light of the after-hours galley. There was little left in Boro¡¯s glass, but it was enough. This was for the best. Surch knew it. It was how things have always worked.


    ¡°Two months in the hospital,¡± Surch whispered, ¡°and then never returned to the Academy. Never flown again.¡±


    ¡°But the rest of us, the ones that stayed on, we were fast friends then, and helped each other succeed instead of getting in each other¡¯s way. Do you see what I¡¯m saying?¡±


    ¡°I see more than you know,¡± Surch answered, putting his palms on the table and pushing himself back in the chair. Boro watched him carefully as the pilot returned the empty glass to the counter, straightened his uniform and gave a small cough. ¡°I tell you this as a friend, Boro. But not all of us recovered as easily as you. Good night.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not staying for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Not hungry.¡±


    And with that, Surch Guraty left the galley, and went to put himself in stasis, and Boro was left alone, in a living breathing ship, with the responsibility to keep its lungs fresh and its arteries clear resting solely on his shoulders.

 Book I, Chapter 5.1

    Chapter 5


    Angzal


    It was still more than a half hour left until noon when Rzena ceased the shuffling of papers Angzal was convinced was mostly for show and declared that he was heading out to lunch.


    ¡°A bit early for you isn¡¯t it?¡± Angzal observed casually.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have an appointment with Congressmember Reyes at 11:30?¡± he replied with the same sort of feigned breeziness, though Angzal noted a prey-like jitter underneath Rzena¡¯s tone.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s reason enough to take a whole day off let alone duck out for an early lunch.¡±


    Angzal had been posted here for a month, and for a month this appointment crept forward in her calendar, usually postponed two or three days at a time on the eve of the scheduled meeting. When Angzal asked her predecessor, who had stayed on for a brief transition period, about the appointment with Congressmember Reyes, she laughed and then took off for a much cushier position on Kai Thori, leaving the meeting solely Angzal¡¯s responsibility. Rzena, who had worked at the embassy for over fifteen years, was equally unhelpful.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got ten minutes left. You sure you can¡¯t give me a little heads-up as to what I¡¯m in for?¡± Angzal asked.


    ¡°Hmm, yes, but she might be early, so it¡¯s ten minutes I¡¯d sooner not waste. And besides, why would I want to ruin the surprise when you¡¯ve waited this long?¡± Rzena scrunched his nose at her and headed for the door of their cramped office, flicking a tail that had begun to lose some its colour and sheen in his age.


    ¡°Rzena, so help me if you go through that door I will hunt you down and eat your heart,¡± Angzal snarled at his retreating back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that chance.¡± And with a parting swipe of his tail, Rzena shut the door.


    Rzena had been in this associate role for so long, and had now witnessed the full terms of several of what were supposed to have been his superiors, that he acted like he was the essential cog at the embassy, while the officials that were periodically sent from the homeworld were serving as mere shiny gloss over the true machinery.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    What annoyed Angzal was less the attitude itself, and more that he was probably right. Few Mraboran had the patience to stay on Earth for as long as he did, so the experience he accumulated was possibly worth more than her own title. Though she would have preferred if he didn¡¯t mete out his knowledge in miserly portions and only when Angzal had earned it based on his sole criteria she was yet to decipher.


    There wasn¡¯t much by way of publicly available Intelnet info on Congressmember Frances Reyes. Newly elected and already splashing about to create whatever waves she could, Reyes was considered to be within the ranks of the non-interventionists, though whereas most non-interventionists saw wider conflicts as none of Humanity¡¯s concern, Reyes actively insisted they were everyone else¡¯s problem to solve.


    The clock on the wall was simultaneously too slow and not fast enough. Ideally, it would have just skipped ahead about a half hour; instead, it counted down the slow painful minutes to the appointed time that was approaching too quickly. The office, though diminutive to the point of insult, at least had a few plants and a window that opened up to the bay around which the city had been nestled.


    Her native Mrabr had its shares of inland seas and an abundance of lakes, but nothing that approached the grand splendor of the seemingly endless Mer Pacific. It was incredible to her that Humans had almost succeeded in destroying this beauty over two thousand years earlier, and all the more impressed they managed to clean it up so well since.


    Her admiration of the great greyish-blue expanse was interrupted by a knock on the door that made her turn and push the tips of her ears to the back of her head, though the gesture would likely have been entirely lost on a Human. The door clicked open before Angzal had a chance to invite the visitor in, which caused an involuntary low growl to slip from her throat as Congressmember Reyes entered the room.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the deputy consul,¡± Reyes observed by way of introduction.


    ¡°Starting to wish I wasn¡¯t,¡± came Angzal¡¯s reply.


    With her wide slightly pointed nose, stern mouth and dark eyebrows, Reyes¡¯s face seemed to be poised to break through whatever hapless obstacle stood in her way, a silent challenge Angzal accepted out of spite before Reyes even had a chance to state her case.


    ¡°Well we¡¯re both here now,¡± Reyes said, the level of annoyance in her voice seemingly unaffected by Angzal¡¯s remark.


    ¡°Please, take a seat,¡± Angzal offered. Reyes didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Did the previous deputy consul have a chance to brief you on our demands before she left?¡± That word ¡®demands¡¯ certainly didn¡¯t bode well.


    ¡°Unfortunately, due to the developing situation around Krevali, my transition to this post has been a bit hectic.¡±


    ¡°Spare me the lecture, I¡¯m fully aware of the situation around Krevali.¡± Being this far out in the sticks, that contention seemed like quite an exaggeration to Angzal. ¡°Whatever¡¯s been keeping you lot so busy that you continuously postponed our meeting seems to have amounted to little more than the Mraboran Protectorate protecting its own tails.¡±


    Why did every species without a tail find it so necessary to point out the Mraboran¡¯s any chance they got?

 Book I, Chapter 5.2

    ¡°The Mraboran Protectorate is doing everything it can within the limits of the Treaty of Krevali,¡± Angzal assured Reyes.


    ¡°The Thorians took a giant dump on the Treaty, so how are your empty assurances supposed to help the Krevali? Do you know who had just been appointed the transitionary governor of the planet? Vekshineth, the Butcher of Nabak.¡±


    The appointment of Vekshineth to lead the transition of Krevali to Thorian rule was, Angzal admitted to herself, terrible optics for the Protectorate. Over the previous three years after the Insurrection, a conflict in which the Protectorate had a role that was less clandestine than they would have preferred, Vekshineth had been overseeing the repatriation of Nabak, which earned him a reputation across the Known Reaches that rivaled some of the historic Anthar Kai and Thorian governors of conquered or pacified worlds. The particularly troubling aspect of the situation for the Protectorate was that prior to the Insurrection, the Butcher of Nabak built his resume through a series of stints on Thorian worlds that had formerly been Mraboran and continued to have a majority Mraboran population, rooting out any ambition of independence that formed in the decades after the Last Gasp. This seemed like the kind of information Rzena ought to have brought to her attention, so Angzal reminded herself to snap his tail in half later.


    All too aware that she skipped a few beats processing the news, Angzal finally responded, ¡°I¡¯ve been told that an impressive delegation from Mrabr, including several high-ranking government officials, are on their way to Kai Thori to discuss this with the Presidium directly.¡± Angzal was, of course, told no such thing.


    ¡°I find it funny that it¡¯s only now that a delegation is being sent. It¡¯s precisely what your predecessor told me in our last conversation, almost two months ago, even though it¡¯s at most a five-week haul from Mrabr to Kai Thori. In any case, even if you¡¯re not straight-up lying to me, how¡¯s ¡®talking¡¯ the only thing the mighty Protectorate is able to muster? The time for talk was when the Thorians were amassing their forces in violation of the Treaty of Krevali and everyone who didn¡¯t have their head up their ass or their tail between their legs knew exactly how this was going to play out. And now the Krevali, who¡¯ve barely reached the frontiers of their own stellar system, are absolutely terrified fighting a war against a technologically superior alien invader, without any clue that there¡¯s a greater network of so-called allies out there who¡¯re doing absolutely nothing to help.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Even for a Human, Reyes was strongly inclined to use her whole body while talking. Arms moved about freely as if on their own accord and fingers stabbed the air emphatically. To a Mraboran, the whole display was distracting, as their own species tended to keep perfectly still, especially during confrontation, which was one of the reasons many of them preferred to keep their tails strapped to their bodies. During the whole conversation, Angzal was motionless, standing between her desk and the window, wondering if the reason Reyes declined a seat was because it made it easier for her to gesticulate.


    ¡°Congressmember Reyes ¨C¡± Angzal tried, but there was no stopping this landslide.


    ¡°No, whatever you have to say to me, it¡¯s become quite clear that neither the Mraboran nor the Hatvan have any interest in upsetting the status quo. As long as you feel safe in your cozy Empires, you¡¯re perfectly content to do nothing. Not even help your own people who are languishing under Thorian rule.¡±


    ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, Congressmember, but doesn¡¯t the ORC have its own capable fleet that it could dispatch to the aid of the Krevali? Something that has the support of many of your own people?¡±


    ¡°Yes, there are supporters of this mad endeavour and they have their reasons. The point I¡¯m making is this would not be the first time Humanity or the ORC had sent their ships into a conflict that should¡¯ve been resolved by others closer to the source. Especially those responsible for what was happening because of their own complacency. We¡¯ve been dying in wars on the other side of the Known Reaches for almost half a century, and have been paying a price for it at home. Meanwhile, species like the Mraboran are the ones benefitting from the peace our blood helps create. Enough is enough.¡±


    That low growl again began to bubble in the back of Angzal¡¯s throat and she reminded herself that this was an alien species and that they expected a certain amount of deference; however undeserved it may be. Still, she let herself slip just a little, responding with a bit of a gurgle in her voice. ¡°The only reason a species like Humans was even able to have any meaningful participation in the Last Gasp was our convenient presence between you and the Thorian Empire, as well as our own complete lack of interest in you.¡±


    ¡°More like a complete lack of interest in anything beyond the pocket of Dead Space that lies between you and us.¡± There was nothing about Reyes¡¯s smile for Angzal to like. ¡°But that¡¯s good to know, that the Protectorate¡¯s greatest contribution so far has been its lack of curiosity and simply being in the way. Oh wait, there¡¯s also the letter sent by the Protectorate to our government that had the audacity to directly request assistance in the mess that was largely their doing. The Senate, unsurprisingly, has already endorsed this lunatic course of action. Congress, on the other hand, so far has enough members without delusions of grandeur and who have no interest in sending others light years away to die in someone else¡¯s war.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 5.3

    The request for assistance from the Protectorate to the Humans was another piece of information that would have been very helpful for Rzena to have passed on. Forget snapping his tail in half, she should just bite it clean off at the base.


    ¡°In that case,¡± Angzal replied, visions of violent retribution dancing before her eyes, ¡°I hope your Congress eventually makes the wise decision that recognizes Humanity¡¯s role in a greater world.¡±


    ¡°If I were you,¡± Reyes¡¯s tone suddenly grew glacial and her body assumed a far more relatable stillness, ¡°that¡¯s not what I¡¯d be pinning my hopes on. If we do somehow vote to send our fleet, and if Human lives are lost, there are those here who will put the blame solely on the ones they think should¡¯ve been fighting instead, and I¡¯d have great concerns about the safety of your people both here on Earth and elsewhere in the Human Interstellar Dependency.¡±


    Had this been another Mraboran, Angzal would have freely laid out in grotesque detail everything she thought about Reyes¡¯s brazen threat against her people. Other species though, and Humans in particular, had more delicate sensibilities, and it took all her strength to keep her instincts from bursting onto the surface, probably to the eventual deep regret of Rzena.


    Angzal measured each word carefully so that none of what she actually yearned to say slipped by.


    ¡°That sounded an awful lot like a threat, Congressmember.¡±


    ¡°Coming from me? No.¡± Reyes¡¯s tone was frustratingly casual. ¡°But I¡¯m not the one you need to be worried about.¡±


    ¡°So what is this, then? A warning on their behalf?¡±


    ¡°It is what you make it to be,¡± Reyes answered with a slight shrug. ¡°I would imagine someone with your influence would consider this a call to use that influence for the good of her people. Or is it that the Mraboran have that little regard for the lives of others, even their own kind?¡±


    Angzal was aware one of her fangs was showing.


    ¡°What influence do you think I¡¯m able to wield, exactly?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Reyes briefly glanced to the side, as if she was growing bored with the conversation. ¡°I¡¯m not going to pretend to know how the intricate web of nepotism works in the Protectorate. Almost fluent in Earth Standard Commercial? Consular position at such a young age? A lot of aging diplomats wouldn¡¯t mind having this view for a few years in what you consider a quiet backwater, yet here you are.¡±


    Angzal recalled what she knew of her predecessors, and Reyes wasn¡¯t completely off the mark.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°I¡¯m one of a litter of five, Congressmember. Trust me, whatever it is you think I get is scraps from the dinner table.¡±


    Reyes gave her head a slight shake and gave a crooked smile. ¡°Big carcass ¨C big scraps.¡± And before Angzal had found something in reply, Reyes continued. ¡°If the issue is that you simply can¡¯t appreciate the potential gravity of the situation, I would be more than happy to speak to someone who can. Maybe a direct conversation with the Ambassador would be more productive?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m told the Ambassador is off world,¡± Angzal replied, ignoring the rising heat in her ears.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she is,¡± Reyes said and put her hands behind her back. ¡°I think I¡¯ve wasted enough time here.¡±


    Evidently finding as much use for goodbyes as she did hellos, Reyes headed for the door, sending one last volley without even turning around, ¡°Next time, I expect to be able to speak to someone more senior.¡±


    Angzal waited for her to reach the door and open it.


    ¡°Congressmember?¡± Angzal said and Reyes paused, still facing her back towards Angzal. ¡°As would I.¡±


    For another few beats Reyes stood with her hand on the door and then stepped out and closed it behind her.


    It had become almost uncomfortably quiet after Reyes left the office, an eerie calmness after the passing storm. Angzal continued to stand for a few moments, as if expecting the door to swing open again and a disembodied wagging finger to fly into the room telling her what¡¯s what, but it looked like the silence was here to stay, so she turned back to the window.


    The sky over the bay was a bright blue that tapered off into milky grey towards the horizon, not much different from clear days on her homeworld. If she kept her eyes upwards, she could almost imagine being back on Mrabr, at the family estate, shady purple fronds looming just out of view. Her gaze drifted downward though, and the illusion was broken by the expanse of the bay, and the multitudes of weekday beachgoers spending their time on the sand and in the water.


    The blasted Thorian she ran across on the journey here had been right ¨C Humans were jittery and unpredictable. She had never before met a species so full of internal discord; it was no wonder they had nearly blasted themselves out of existence. The question now was, were they capable of doing it again, and would they drag anyone down with them?


    The handle of the door to her office clicked, the individual on the other side hesitating, and then fully opened.


    ¡°Rzena, you coward, I will drown your litter in your own blood.¡±


    Rzena hardly even looked in her direction as he made his way to his desk. ¡°My litter is older than you are, and there¡¯s three of them. Don¡¯t think there¡¯s enough blood.¡±


    Angzal emphasized each word through clenched teeth. ¡°I will make do.¡±


    Rzena plugged in his personal tablet into his terminal and then peered over his desk-mounted monitor at Angzal.


    ¡°I take it your meeting with Congressmember Reyes went well.¡±


    ¡°Well as can be expected.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re alive, so that¡¯d be accurate.¡±


    ¡°A little advance warning would¡¯ve been appreciated.¡±


    ¡°Really? I¡¯ve always been a firm believer in a practical, hands-on approach to learning.¡±


    ¡°The only practical thing I learned is I¡¯d derive great pleasure from a hands-on approach to your neck.¡±


    Rzena made a low hum at the back of his throat as he busied himself at his terminal, while Angzal permitted herself to sit back down at her desk and release the predatory tension that had gripped her body since before Reyes¡¯s arrival.

 Book I, Chapter 5.4

    For a while, Angzal sat watching her washed-out reflection in the blackness of her desk monitor.


    Big scraps from a big carcass. Congressmember Frances Reyes may have gone, but she had left behind a whole host of words that took residence in Angzal¡¯s mind like a ghost only she had the burden of seeing. Rzena was focused on his work which largely remained a mystery to her, though he appeared to derive a somewhat begrudging contentedness from his position. Or was this simply a form of unofficial exile, where having outgrown his ambitions or outliving his usefulness, he now served a life sentence? No mate with him here, nor his litter ¨C he was a solitary figure in the still paltry Mraboran community on Earth, destined to leave no lasting footprints on a world that had become his home and his prison. This all made Angzal feel a bit better about her own situation, though she admitted a lot of the sheen had been rubbed off her new position.


    ¡°Are you heading out to lunch?¡± Rzena asked, sounding almost as if he might genuinely be concerned in her comings and goings, though Angzal figured it was probably because he¡¯d hoped to get the office all to himself for a little while.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve had enough of Humans for today.¡±


    Whereas Mraboran subsisted on a single large meal eaten before bedtime, Humans had the habit of breaking up their whole workday to eat. It was a trait of Earth culture that Angzal normally enjoyed, either getting together with her Human colleagues or heading out into the vibrant commercial district by herself. Today, however, was going to be a desk day, even if she suspected that half the time Rzena was just watching her work and silently judging, though she was yet to catch him doing it.


    ---


    It hadn¡¯t been an hour since Reyes¡¯s exit from her office, which time Angzal spent going through her messages and accumulating a to-do list she had no intention of tackling until tomorrow, or possibly ever, when Rzena informed her that she had an incoming call.


    ¡°So? Send it through.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s from the comms hub.¡± Angzal could clearly see the flash of fang from Rzena, mostly because he made no effort to hide it.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Oh great.¡± She was sure the timing was no coincidence.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so happy,¡± Angzal said as she walked by Rzena¡¯s desk, even though he actually didn¡¯t look like anything at all, which Angzal was certain was intentional and intended to irritate her.


    ---


    Angzal took the stairs up five floors to the comms hub. Humans had an infatuation with elevators; really with anything that moved them from place to place. Sometimes she¡¯d catch them taking elevators up only one or two floors, and though they seemed to feign embarrassment at their submission to sloth, she knew full well they had every intention of doing it again. At least in the stairwells she was pretty much guaranteed to only bump into other Mraboran, so if she could only ignore the wood paneling that was so ubiquitous in Human architecture, it was almost like being back home.


    It wasn¡¯t a busy time at the comms hub. The only other user was a bored Human sitting in the reception area waiting for the requested call to patch through. While calls out of system had to do be done through one-way messaging, live calls that were off-world but within the stellar system needed to be handled through designated comms centres as no personal tablet or terminal could handle that kind of load. And there was only one individual within the system who would have any interest in speaking to Angzal.


    ¡°I will let the Ambassador know you¡¯re here to take her call,¡± the comms operator told Angzal and she also took a seat. The way these calls worked, one party would either show up at their comms hub, make a call, and wait for the other person to arrive at their respective comms room, or else the originator would place a call request, and then the other would confirm their availability and wait for the originator to return to their call. Either way, someone was always waiting. If ever one needed to discern the relative social status of two individuals, all one had to do was find out who waited for whom during off-world calls.


    In the end, Angzal was forced to sit almost a half hour, which made her thankful she¡¯d brought her tablet, and since the waiting itself was part of her job, she figured there was no need to do double duty and spend even a minute of that time working. The Human that had been in the waiting room with her must have been particularly low on the pecking order because he was still there when the comms operator called up Angzal.


    The Ambassador¡¯s image appeared on the wall-to-wall screen of the sound-proof call booth, her yellow eyes standing out starkly against a cowl of dark fur that marked her for an individual of particular rank and prestige. Her clothes too, which for most Mraboran consisted of tan leather straps crisscrossing each other in various arrangements, stood out with their shades of austere dark green and brilliant blue.

 Book I, Chapter 5.5

    ¡°Angzal gan Mreniyaur.¡± The Ambassador¡¯s formal address was short and to the point and she faced a camera that was positioned well below her eye-level, just to drive that point home.


    ¡°Ambassador.¡± Angzal pressed her ears as flat as she could against her head, a gesture of calmness and docility in front of someone whom one would never dare challenge.


    ¡°I take it you are now well-settled into your position.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you, I had hoped to be able to ¨C¡±


    ¡°I understand that you met with Congressmember Frances Reyes earlier today.¡± The image was clear, and the signal delay was minimal, even so, speakers would normally pause to make sure the was no cross-chatter, so the Ambassador was quick to establish that Angzal had earned no such courtesy.


    ¡°Yes, Ambassador I had the, uh, opportunity to meet ¨C well, you can imagine how it went.¡±


    ¡°That I can.¡± The Ambassador absently looked away from the screen.


    ¡°She insisted that she wanted to speak to you directly.¡±


    ¡°My only solution for her is that she unwant it.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C¡±


    ¡°You, on the other hand,¡± the Ambassador returned her gaze to Angzal, ¡°will need to schedule another meeting with her as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ambassador?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you are. But we need the Human Congress to pass this vote, and she represents the most reasonable faction that could be swayed to our cause.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure ¡®reasonable¡¯ is a word I would use to describe her.¡± Perhaps an early retirement was in order, to live off the family estate as hired help if that was all that was available to her, then recommend Rzena for a promotion and find happiness in knowing he was the one who had to deal with this instead.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find that Congressmember Reyes is not such a unique specimen among Humans. If you think this is an impediment to the duties of your current assignment then we can always ¨C¡±


    ¡°No, no, not at all,¡± Angzal cursed the signal delay that couldn¡¯t cut the Ambassador¡¯s admonishment fast enough, ¡°I just meant that maybe there was not another way.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The fur about the Ambassador¡¯s face turned a shade darker as her eyes narrowed on the viewscreen, and Angzal wondered what sacrifice to the bloodthirsty gods would take to restart this day.


    ¡°If you¡¯re already aware of some kind of alternative, please share.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry Ambassador.¡± Any flatter and Angzal¡¯s ears would have to roll into little tubes and crawl inside themselves. Angzal was well aware the ensuing silence by the Ambassador was deliberate.


    ¡°There¡¯s someone here on Mars I¡¯ve had several discussions with, another representative in the HID Congress.¡± Hearing that during Angzal¡¯s tenure the Ambassador had time for multiple meetings with a Human made Angzal strangely jealous.


    ¡°Congressmember Ferrety is one of a handful of colonial representatives willing to support our request. He told me he should be in Malbur in two days, ahead of next week¡¯s vote. The Winti Reagent has already said they will follow whatever decision the Human Interstellar Dominion makes, and the Fusir hardly have any opinions of their own. As long as we can break this deadlock in the HID government, all the other pieces are already in place. What I need from you, is to get Ferrety and Reyes in the same room, and make sure they don¡¯t leave until Reyes can pledge enough votes for the motion to deploy the ORC fleet to succeed.¡±


    The Ambassador once again stared off languidly past the screen, suggesting to Angzal that her importance had run its course and to close off the conversation. Angzal, evidently not intent on learning any lessons that day, continued.


    ¡°If you permit me asking, Ambassador, but it may help me to know why we¡¯re so interested in the Humans and the ORC sending their fleets to Krevali?¡±


    The Ambassador¡¯s expression, her cowl darkening further, suggested she was not used to being asked questions, especially such rudimentary ones.


    ¡°I know it must be difficult for you to comprehend, being so far out from home, but the Thorians¡¯ obtuseness about Krevali has complicated matters. Dismissing our involvement in the Nabak Insurrection as mostly humanitarian had pacified things back home initially, though the unforeseen losses that we sustained turned the tide against any such future intervention. That said, there are many who believe that despite the fact that the Thorians had not posed a significant threat for more than two generations, this Krevali business is all a portent of more sinister machinations. If the Thorians have gone so soft in the head as to start something bigger, then likely the Hatvan will be ready to take advantage. The Humans, for their part, share a much closer relationship with us than the Hatvan. Not to mention that they¡¯re potentially promising almost the entirety of their fleet. Having the Humans there sends the Hatvan a strong message, while keeping all but a cursory part of our forces safely occupied elsewhere.¡±


    Angzal chewed over Reyes¡¯s admonishments of the Mraboran Protectorate and the Hatvan Empire and her own belief that the Protectorate had become too content to define its identity and direction through constant contrast with their neighbours and oldest rivals. Despite the incessant twitch in her ears she decided this is where she¡¯d draw the line and chose silence instead.


    ¡°Thank you, Ambassador, I will do my best.¡±


    ¡°The Protectorate doesn¡¯t need your best, Angzal gan Mreniyaur, it needs the best. Figure out what that is, and report back to me with good news.¡±


    Finding no need for additional fanfare, or for a final word from Angzal, the Ambassador ended the transmission.

 Book I, Chapter 5.6

    Twice over the course of that conversation the Ambassador referred to Angzal by the formal address ¡°Angzal gan Mreniyaur¡±. The feelings that the first such instance had stirred were buried by the discussion that followed, but the Ambassador¡¯s inclusion of Angzal¡¯s full name as she bid what could generously be described as her ¡°farewell¡± dredged them up again. A Mraboran¡¯s full name came from their litter, which was in turn derived from the names of the parents. Litters usually comprised three to six individuals, and were restricted to one per parent pairing, leaving Mraboran to choose between unlimited procreation and monogamy. The majority picked the latter, Angzal¡¯s parents among them. This left Angzal with only four siblings, scattered across the Known Reaches, and none closer than a month¡¯s journey away. So on her way back to the office, instead of dreading the meeting upon which her entire career now apparently hinged, she was composing letters to her brothers and sister; letters she knew she was long overdue in sending.


    ---


    To Rzena¡¯s credit, he did seem to make a serious attempt at hiding the look of glee when Angzal asked him to schedule another meeting with Reyes.


    ¡°Could you just, let me know when you¡¯re about to call her to set up the appointment, so I can be out of the room?¡± Angzal requested. ¡°I want to see neither your face nor hear her voice over the line.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a shame, I was planning on putting it on speakerphone.¡±


    ¡°Have I ever told you you¡¯re funny when you¡¯re toying with death?¡±


    At that, Rzena made a sound that was half laugh, half old-man-grunt and returned to the absorbed silence of his work.


    To say that Angzal¡¯s first conversation with the Ambassador did not go the way she had envisioned it was to put a mild spin to the fact that Angzal replayed it over and over in her head until she started to feel claustrophobic. The worst part was she couldn¡¯t decide whether she was relieved she hadn¡¯t said all she wanted to, or angry that she chose to hold back. This was further amplified by the fact that she imagined multiple scenarios where she did choose to speak up.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Is that it? The Thorians are at their weakest and we¡¯re still going to cower in our own corner?¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized that the whole reason for our species¡¯ existence had been reduced to being thorns in the Hatvan¡¯s side.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true what they say, the only ones the Protectorate is willing to protect are the ones at its top.¡±


    Although each new invented retort scratched an itch inside her, even in her own fantasies none of these scenarios resulted in the Ambassador being rendered speechless, or sputtering or somehow being put in her place. Rather the long-term outcome was invariably Angzal never getting off this rock again. This was, she admitted darkly, a future that may have already been sealed for her. What she really needed, instead of masticating on the events of the day by herself, was someone she could vent to. Her sister shared some of her frustrations, but had the better sense to keep them to herself when it best suited her. Unfortunately, she was also the furthest of her littermates, and even if Angzal sent her something today she wouldn¡¯t hear back for almost a month. Her brothers, though closer, were decidedly more useless in this respect and would provide no comfort and only the empty platitudes about believing in the infinite wisdom of government. The only thing less helpful than them in this situation was the clock that insisted on dragging this day out past her breaking point.


    There was a number of emails sitting in her inbox about a reception with an Imsogon trade delegation, most of which pertained to the menu ¨C frivolous questions that did not mesh well with her current lack of appetite yet were somehow the most palatable of her unattended work.


    Despite its gargantuan efforts to the contrary, the work day did indeed succumb to the laws of time and space and concluded. Rzena took his stubborn few minutes before he started packing up, as if this was simply a natural break in his work and he wasn¡¯t counting down the minutes before he could leave. This, in turn, delayed Angzal¡¯s own exit as a result of her own equally tenacious insistence that she never leave before him.


    How many thousands of times had he packed up this desk, and how many of them have been any kind of distinguishable from the others? He did it with a distant look, as if he was already gone or had never really showed up, the fur around his eyes already starting to take on a lighter colour, unlike the darkness of the Ambassador¡¯s face. After the day she had, Angzal thought she could see a glimmer of her own future in his expression ¨C spending your days in a far-flung corner of the Known Reaches to provide a voice to your people when they¡¯ve long stopped listening to yours.


    ¡°Hey Rzena,¡± she called out and he looked up mostly with disinterest. ¡°You want to catch dinner or something?¡±


    If it elicited any surprise in him, he hid it well. Instead, he paused, as if rifling in his mind through a normally busy social calendar. ¡°Sure, got anywhere in mind?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Anywhere but here.¡±


    ¡°I might know a place.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 5.7

    When they left the building where the consulate was located, sunset was still over an hour away, but most of the heat had already drained out of the day. Beachgoers were largely replaced by leisurely strollers around the promenade, though the cluster of people gathered outside their front entrance seemed starkly less relaxed.


    ¡°Any idea what¡¯s going on there?¡± Angzal asked Rzena, who seemed determined not to look in their direction.


    ¡°Oh, just Humans being Humans.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He crossed the street to put some distance between them and the small crowd.


    ¡°Every couple of months Humans find something to get really excited over. So some of them show up with their posters and slogans, and sometimes the local police have to keep them at bay, but after a couple of days they¡¯re gone and everyone¡¯s moved on. Bottom line is, ignore them. Eye contact is like gasoline to these people.¡±


    When they were at what she considered a safe distance, Angzal threw a glance back at the protestors, trying to see if Reyes was among them. Or was this something she would be involved in behind the scenes, rather than on the frontlines?


    Instead of familiar streets, Rzena led them to the historic district of downtown Malbur, where some of the ancient glass monolith towers that survived the Great Fire still stood. The rest of the denser city core was marked by large multi-terraced buildings with inner courtyards, green roofs and hanging gardens. Though Humans still built the occasional glossy spire to rise above these sprawling complexes, there was an austere sternness to the old giants which withstood millennia since Humanity¡¯s first Space Age, as if they were vertical pools holding up a mirror to a darker time. Rzena explained that on other continents, historic city centres were often a thousand or even multiple thousands of years older than what could be found in Malbur, an age which would put them in much closer competition to the cities of Mrabr.


    To Angzal¡¯s surprise, the plazas nestled among the roots of the giants were full of quaint boutiques and eateries. Rzena found them a restaurant, all wooden tables and wooden partitions dividing the space for a more intimate meal, with a large aquarium in the foyer and part of the dining room, and a menu that naturally leaned towards offerings from the sea.


    Initially, she was going to go for the more familiar Earth staple of a carnivore diet ¨C a lightly roasted pat¨¦ made from crushed arthropods with small meat cubes for dipping. Rzena convinced her to make a more exotic selection, even if the dish involved some kind of grain, which was essentially grass, which was not really food, but food¡¯s food.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    When their dishes arrived, Angzal had to admit they looked appetizing, and Rzena explained to her that it was somewhat fortuitous that they even had the opportunity to order them, as many of Earth¡¯s aquatic species were on the brink of extinction before the Great Fire, and when Humans rebuilt their civilization from the ashes of the old one, they approached the task in a far more respectful way to the planet than their ancestors had. Rzena was brimming with historical information about the local species and the hapless planet that had the misfortune to be their home, a curious accumulation of knowledge that Angzal remarked on.


    Rzena made a noncommittal sound as he chewed his food. ¡°Someone like me has a lot of time on their hands to travel and visit museums and read every single plaque I can get my eyes on. If I¡¯m going to spend the rest of my life here, whatever that¡¯s worth, I might as well get to know the place. I know some expats who¡¯ve hardly spoken to anyone outside their own species. A huge waste, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever been back home?¡±


    ¡°You mean since I moved here? No. Considered a trip after the first couple of years but that idea died out so slowly I barely noticed. Between the cost, the length of travel and how much time it¡¯s been and how much must¡¯ve changed, feels like setting myself up for disappointment. None of my litter is back there anyway ¨C my daughters are on other colonies and my son¡¯s on the Vaparozh homeworld. Go figure.¡±


    ¡°Do any of your litter come to visit?¡±


    ¡°They used to, here and there. Earth isn¡¯t exactly the kind of place you crave to visit more than once. My little one was here last, but that must have been ¡­ about six years ago now.¡± The look on Angzal¡¯s face made him wave off her concern and continue. ¡°They¡¯re all grown now, two of them have litters of their own and one of them decided to keep going and find another mate. They¡¯re busy, I get it. Doesn¡¯t mean I like it. So ¡®home¡¯ for me is basically just this job ¨C a series of tasks to be completed without much connection to any sort of real place.¡±


    ¡°And what happens when the job¡¯s gone?¡±


    ¡°Ha! That¡¯ll be the day they find some other idiot to fill my shoes. But I suppose I could retire to Guawana. They have a proper Mraboran community there. You can even score an agmari steak if you¡¯re lucky.¡±


    ¡°No kidding?¡±


    ¡°True story. Even raimzau, too. If you¡¯re ever over on that island, I¡¯ll let you know where the good places are. Here, they¡¯ve got two Hatvan nightclubs and a Thorian food court and they think they got themselves an interstellar city. There was an Iastret cabaret for a while, but that closed down. At least in those other cities, if you squint hard enough, you can pretend you¡¯re almost near civilization.¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s good to know not everywhere on Earth is as bleak as this.¡±


    ¡°Ah don¡¯t let me get your hopes up, it¡¯s a far cry from what you¡¯re used to. Still, I¡¯ve spent almost twenty years in this city, but I¡¯d sooner retire to be closer to our kind than be neck deep in Humans all day.¡±


    A low growl escaped the back of Angzal¡¯s throat and prompted Rzena to laugh. ¡°They are a trying bunch, aren¡¯t they?¡± he asked.

 Book I, Chapter 5.8

    Angzal stared off into a darkening window. ¡°I couldn¡¯t quite believe it when I got the call that I was appointed to this post. I¡¯m the runt of my litter you know? One of my brothers works with my mother in the capital, another is an arbitrator on Kai Thori and my other brother and sister are also off-world. That just left me, sort of unaccounted for.¡±


    ¡°Still, an interstellar posting. Not bad for a runt.¡±


    ¡°Yes, as our esteemed Congressmember has already reminded me.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to push it.¡±


    Seeing the genuine concern in Rzena¡¯s eyes and hearing an apology rather than his usual snark was far more disturbing than any moment of introspection could bring so she quickly waved him off.


    ¡°No, you both have a point. I knew the opportunities might be there if I pushed for them. So I threw myself into languages. Hatvan first, then near fluency in Standard Thorian, even though I knew Trade Thorian already.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve certainly picked up their modesty.¡±


    That¡¯s more like it.


    ¡°Hey, I know what I¡¯m good at and I¡¯m not going to hide it.¡±


    ¡°And did it get you what you wanted?¡±


    ¡°In a way. Landed a position in the Department of Foreign Affairs. Living in the capital, off the estate, you know, thinking I¡¯ve got independence. Mostly I was just carted in front of Thorian delegates who were amused by my fluency. A parlor trick without much substance. I thought maybe I¡¯d have better luck with something more obscure. I¡¯ve always found Nabak absolutely stunning so I learned their language in the hopes of being sent there but then the Insurrection hit and all hopes of that were pretty much dashed.¡±


    ¡°How very inconsiderate of them.¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. So I decided to go really off the board, reach into some forgotten corner of civilization for my next challenge, and decided to study Standard Earth Commercial.¡± Angzal growled at that and Rzena gave a small snort. ¡°Don¡¯t know why I even bothered with StEC, given that anyone who¡¯s anyone here knows Trade Thorian as well as anyone in the Known Reaches. Still, got me on some kind of consideration list somewhere because it wasn¡¯t long before I was boarding a liner coming through from Vaparozh to take me almost as far away from home as possible within the Known Reaches.¡±


    Their Human waiter, with skin a tan shade of brown so common to their species, Congressmember Reyes included, arrived to place their dessert orders and after-meal drinks before them. When it came to sugary snacks, Humans seemed to go all out, and she found the first few experiences unpalatably sweet for her Mraboran taste buds, though she continued to search for something she could more or less enjoy. Her experiment with coffee, on the other hand, was far more short-lived. After not sleeping for an entire night, she acquired a newfound fascination with the Human central nervous system, and vowed never to have another sip again. Either as a result of bravado, an aggressive commitment to assimilation, or the desire for an early grave, Rzena did not share the same predisposition and sat with his hands wrapped round a mug of the hot bitter drink.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Do you know how excited I was when I thought I might get this position?¡± Angzal looked into her own steaming mug of chamomile tea.


    ¡°There are so many reasons why I can¡¯t imagine.¡±


    ¡°I vowed to learn everything I could about their culture. I found a Human neighbourhood on Mrabr ¨C oh yes, they have one now, though it¡¯s teensy, barely two intersecting streets. I¡¯d visit there daily, eat at every restaurant, try every dish they could cobble together from the available ingredients. I fell in love with chamomile tea, insisted they start growing chamomile at the estate. I think my mother suspected I was nuts, probably pulled some strings to make sure she could get me off-world for good. Somehow, at that point, there was no doubt in my mind this was going to be perfect for me.¡±


    Rzena¡¯s bemused look over his mug as he sipped his coffee prompted her to make a resigned sigh.


    ¡°The best part is? No one told me anything that could have set me straight. All I heard was ¡®What a great career opportunity¡¯ or ¡®Such a nice opportunity to see the wider world¡¯ and ¡®An excellent stepping stone to advance your career¡¯. I guess in hindsight that last one was a bit of a warning. But it wasn¡¯t until I was on the ship taking me here that I had my first doubts. I was popped out of stasis about a week out from Earth, and went to the galley for some hot water for my chamomile tea, which, yes, I packed, let¡¯s just move on from that, and found a lone Thorian sitting at a table.¡± Rzena made a little sound into his coffee and looked up at her as if to see if she was joking. ¡°Oh yes, it was a very ¡®god of the underworld disguises himself as a sly Thorian¡¯ kind of vibe.¡±


    ¡°How poetic.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it. He even said he was a poet, if you can believe it.¡±


    ¡°Since when do they have poets?¡± Rzena asked with a glassy glimmer coming over his eyes from the coffee, or perhaps she was imagining it based on her own experience with the foul drink.


    ¡°No idea, but whatever the reason he was on that ship, it wasn¡¯t for leisure, that much was easy to tell. So this ¡®Thorian¡¯, you know, supposedly ¨C¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°He tells me he¡¯s got the actual inside scoop on these Humans.¡±


    ¡°Well, if there¡¯s anyone who knows everything more than everyone, it¡¯s Thorians.¡±


    ¡°Right? So he takes my newborn position and all the hopes that come with it and basically strangles it before it¡¯s got a chance to take its first steps. He explains that Humans are difficult to work with ¨C they¡¯re unpredictable upstarts who hardly even know what they want and that they¡¯re twitchy and panicky and whatever other colourful yet annoyingly accurate words he used. And it¡¯s been like, a month now that I¡¯ve spent among them and you know what I¡¯ve realized?¡± Angzal took a small sip of her tea and set the cup down, rubbing with her fingers behind her ears. ¡°This is just warm flower juice.¡±


    She looked up at Rzena, who was regarding her with that air of misplaced superiority. ¡°Seems to me at least you¡¯re coming to your senses,¡± he said and then, lifting his own mug, ¡°Soon you¡¯ll realize that bean juice is clearly superior.¡± He held his cold expression for a few moments and then burst out laughing, dragging Angzal along with him.

 Book I, Chapter 5.9

    The sun had already set and an autumn chill settled over the street when they left the restaurant, not entirely having satisfied their ravenous evening appetites. Something new hung in the air. Angzal could sense it, unsure of what it could be, while Rzena seemed entirely oblivious. As they made their way back towards the consulate building, since both of them lived relatively close by, Rzena caught onto it too. The mood of the streets had shifted, and thumped with a different heartbeat. Even before they heard it ¨C that rising tide of the noise of the crowd ¨C they had already been walking on guard, ears perked up. Though neither of them spoke, both had the innate feeling that the other was tugged along by the same opposing forces ¨C the threatening hum of a powerful confluence of voices and the desire to know what was happening, a flash of excitement on an otherwise dull planet.


    Here and there they spied it through the breaks in the buildings, the press of people that sometimes flowed like a patient river, and sometimes churned in place with its tones at times hopeful, or frustrated, or even downright enraged. Keeping to its periphery, Angzal and Rzena found that between the crowd and the geography of the city, the way home had been effectively barred. And worse yet, keeping a few blocks away they found straggling pockets of individuals that have peeled off from the main group, and eyed the two of them in less than flattering ways. A choice was made to follow the crowd at a distance as far as they could and then cut through quickly while hopefully not attracting much attention.


    They ran out of room when they reached one of the stumpy bridges across the river that separated the historic core from the new part of downtown. Here at least the road was wide enough to let the crowd thin out a bit, though it left the two of them with no options other than hurrying right through it.


    Now that Angzal and Rzena were in it, they could see the crowd attracted every manner of Human, from pale beige to dark brown, as well as some Wintis, standing tall on those elongated toes like some kind of prey animal on the grasslands, and also some members of the Fusir ¨C all Outer Rim Confederacy species, while Thorians and their fellow Mraboran were notably absent. Not everything that was shouted or chanted by the crowd was in Earth Standard Commercial, but the things that were, as well as the posters and placards carried down the streets of Malbur, explained this absence easily.


    ¡°Never really amounts to more than anything, huh?¡± Angzal asked, mostly in jest, and then seeing Rzena¡¯s terrified face realized he was well out of reach of any attempts to lighten the mood, so she grabbed him by one of the leather straps that looped over his shoulder and dragged him at a conspicuous pace over the bridge.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    She had figured that two fur-covered beings could only remain largely unseen for so long in a mess of mostly hairless beasts. They¡¯d made it about halfway across the bridge before some of the shouting had definitely come to be directed at them, though the only phrase Angzal could identify was jeers of ¡°Go home!¡± Before she even realized how it happened, she lost the grip on Rzena and he became separated from her by a wall of Human backs.


    Later she would tell herself that there was no moment of hesitation, that her looking behind her shoulder towards the other side of the bridge and wondering how quickly she could make it there was her merely checking her surroundings. It didn¡¯t matter, she would insist, because in the end, the result was the same ¨C she stopped and grabbed at the shoulders of the Humans that stood between her and Rzena to get through the living barricade. She had a hard time of it on her own, but a rough shove to her back propelled her forward and she made the best of it, using the momentum to break through two bystanders. She found Rzena on his knees in the middle of an enclosed circle, shielding his head from one Human that stood over him.


    Without wasting any more time, she grabbed Rzena under the arms and yanked him up, leading him out of a knot of people that seemed to be in somewhat of a disarray after suddenly finding another Mraboran in their midst. There were a few shouts of ¡°hey!¡± behind them, as well as the sound of shattering glass on pavement which may or may not have had anything to do with them, though Angzal took no chances glancing back. As they were heading down the bridge, Rzena stumbled, and Angzal noticed the fur on his brow was matted with blood and his eyes were drifting every which way except the direction they were supposed to be going. For her part, Angzal thought of herself as a keel aimed in the straightest path down the road towards the other side of the river. Several Humans, some of whom looked more like curious passersby than active agitators, made the wrong choice to not get out of her way, and were elbowed sharply aside.


    Once the bridge ended, all she had to do was pierce through the clot of people at each side of the road, hopefully not losing Rzena in the process. She picked a spot were several law enforcement officers were lined next to each other, assuming this would make for a safe exit as any.


    Again the attack came from behind. This time, the pain was sharp, delivered to the base of her skull, and filled her ears with a dull ringing. Rzena had been ripped from her by the impact, and she herself went sprawling forward, coming to a sudden stop against one of the officers. He was a tall Human, arms crossed over a barrel chest that bulged from the armour, face constructed entirely of straight lines and right angles. Not even a hand had moved to help steady her, and his eyes had no interest in her assailant. Instead, they looked down at her in a cold hard way, drawing a line between them that couldn¡¯t have been clearer. Under that gaze, the hotness in the back of her head swelled, blotting out any initial touch of fear that she may have experienced, and she pushed away from the officer, staring defiantly into the crowd, where the culprit wasn¡¯t hard to spot, still doubled-over in laughter while his two friends egged him on.

 Book I, Chapter 5.10

    When the Human that had hit her noticed she¡¯d seen him, he straightened up and spread his arms, ¡°Wassat, abom? Want sommore?¡± Despite it being a heavily accented version of StEC, she understood enough ¨C ¡°abom¡±, short for ¡°abomination¡±, a catchall epithet for anyone not Human.


    She scanned him for a weapon, and finding none figured she may have underestimated the power of a Human fist. Still, she wondered what a full-force open strike from a Mraboran would do to a Human face. Either from boldness or stupidity, he showed no fear as she approached him, arms hanging limply at her side, a pose that may have looked entirely harmless, even comical, to someone unfamiliar, but to any Mraboran who saw would have been an obvious sign that blood was about to be spilled. A Mraboran did see, though, and risked putting himself in the line of fire to pull Angzal away from the street.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft,¡± Rzena hissed at her in Mraboran, though his speech was somewhat slurred, prompting the Humans to make crude meowling noises in mock imitation as the two of them retreated, shoving past the law enforcement officers and out of the suffocating strangle of the march. Here, the pedestrians thinned out quickly, and only two blocks later they felt safe enough to slow down.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you were actually about to fight them,¡± Rzena said, annoyed, as if it was him who¡¯d had to drag her half-conscious bug-eyed self over that bridge.


    ¡°Me!?¡± She whirled on him, considering for a moment that it hardly mattered which individual served as an outlet for her rage and wondered where the same fire had been when she had to drag him out of there all on her own. ¡°They¡¯re the ones that attacked us first.¡±


    ¡°A few glancing blows. You think that would have been enough to justify a Mraboran diplomat disemboweling a few non-consequential Humans? I can almost imagine the headlines back home. Or is it that you seriously don¡¯t want to keep this job, do you?¡±


    ¡°Forget the job, I¡¯d rather live.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    Looking into his eyes, the right squinting from the swelling on his brow, she took his impatient exasperated tone for what it was ¨C gratitude that he could never express in so many words.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    So she dropped it, and they continued to put distance between themselves and the protesters until their presence no longer caused that ripple in the air that Angzal picked up on when they had left the restaurant. Rzena walked with a slight limp that he looked to be trying to hide but couldn¡¯t avoid, so Angzal made no mention of it. As for her own injury, she touched the back of her skull and realized quickly that unless she enjoyed the sensation of a hot needle stabbing through her head temple to temple, then she should probably not do that anymore. Angzal knew the prudent thing to do would be to get it checked out by a doctor, but she had no appetite for dealing with Human xenobiologists, and the one Mraboran clinic in town would not be open at this hour. She wondered if Rzena had walked himself through the same equations yet.


    ¡°How¡¯s your head?¡± she asked.


    Rzena put a hand to his brow and then studied his fingers. ¡°Bleeding¡¯s stopped.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    He chortled at that. ¡°Yeah, I guess it is.¡± He touched it again, seemingly harder this time since he winced and like Angzal thought better of poking around again.


    They were passing in front of the consulate offices. The only evidence that this was the starting point of tonight¡¯s conflagration were an abundance of litter, a sign with a snapped handle tossed to the curb and several abandoned low metal fences, for posterity, to show that some effort to control the crowds had obviously been made.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re going to get that checked out tonight?¡± Angzal motioned with her head to Rzena¡¯s swollen brow that continued its advance over his eye.


    ¡°I¡¯ll live,¡± he answered, and then with a shrug added, ¡°probably.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve also seen enough Humans for one evening.¡± A rowdy group of locals stepped out of a nearby restaurant and onto the street. By all accounts, and Angzal knew this, they had nothing to do with the others, and were simply having a good time, not even paying any mind to the two Mraboran. Still, they both made the silent decision to cross the street and out of their path, walking at a pace that was uncomfortable for Rzena until their paths diverged a few minutes later and Angzal offered to see him to his door.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± he said, and there was a pang of something akin to sorrow in Angzal to hear him sound his age. It looked as if something else was dancing on the tip of his tongue, perhaps some kind of joke or comment he wanted to use to brush the whole series of events under the rug, clear the slate. Instead, all he said was ¡°Good night¡± and turned to head home.


    She waited for him to disappear behind a corner before going on her way.


    For Angzal at least, any notion of home was still lightyears away. Nothing about her apartment suggested any sort of sanctuary and, given the throbbing that now ballooned where the Humans had struck her, even the possibility of lying on her back in her strange bed on this strange planet and staring up into a painfully boring white ceiling to put this whole day away was taken from her.

 Book I, Chapter 6.1

    Chapter 6


    Hilosh


    The fur coat kept the warmth in, but without the steaming tea, there would have been no warmth for it to contain. The fur, of course, was fake, they hadn¡¯t harvested shimchek for their fur in centuries, but the coat did its job nonetheless. Vaiya tea was still around, except this was also not the real thing, and it was not doing its job. Yarmar had put together her own special recipe from the supplies they had available, and Hilosh supposed that if you heated it enough to scald your tongue, you could almost pretend it was distilled memories of the actual drink.


    The view outside the darkened co-supervisor¡¯s office was even more sorrowful, and made Hilosh feel cozy by comparison. The storm had entered its second week, lashing the canyon that was the base of their mining operation with piercing violet lightning while winds made everything in the workers¡¯ barracks shiver and groan. The engineers assured him the structures could withstand a far worse beating. Then again, the geologist promised far more ore than what they¡¯d been pulling up, and the meteorologist swore at the beginning that this storm would clear within three days. So Hilosh was in ample supply of assurances but with a dwindling amount of trust in them.


    There was a hollow metallic knock on the door.


    ¡°Come in.¡± He didn¡¯t need to ask who it was, knowing that it would be Yarmar, his co-supervisor, no doubt with some news he didn¡¯t want to hear; otherwise, she wouldn¡¯t have bothered him, knowing to leave him to his own somewhat unproductive way of coping with this adversity.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to go away just because you keep staring at it,¡± she said.


    ¡°It used to work with my kids.¡±


    ¡°Have you been sleeping?¡±


    ¡°Not recently,¡± and then after the pause that was filled by Yarmar¡¯s sigh he added, ¡°Besides, your vaiya tea has been keeping me up.¡±


    ¡°That tea is glorified bathwater and you know it.¡± She joined him by the window, looking down into the deep scar in the ground, the sheer rock faces punctured by mining caverns, some of which were plugged by drilling machines that had been tucked away from the worst of the weather. The War of the Last Gasp may have been celebrated across the Know Reaches for its blow to the Thorian Empire, the apparent signal that their time of dominance would soon be coming to an end, but forty years later, not only had that day not come, but forgotten in the allies¡¯ victory were the Vaparozh. Hilosh and Yarmar¡¯s people lost substantial territory at the end of the war, an unspoken compromise to have the Thorians admit defeat, which resulted in the resource crunch that chased their people to the inhospitable worlds of Dead Space, just like the rock Hilosh had now found himself on.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Any end in sight?¡± Yarmar asked.


    ¡°None that I can see. Though Viri swears up and down that it¡¯ll be another two days at most.¡±


    ¡°We might not have two days.¡± There it was, the reason she had come. ¡°The Raire just radioed in and said they¡¯re a couple of days out.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Hilosh said with what felt like the last bit of strength leaving his body.


    ¡°If this thing isn¡¯t over by then ¡­¡± She stopped herself, took the mug from his gloved hands, and took a sip of his vaiya tea. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t need to tell you.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t. Just like her, he¡¯d been crunching the numbers the last couple of days. No one was crazy enough to fly shuttles in this weather, and even if the storm resolved itself, it would take time to collect the extracted ore for transport, and the crew of the Raire wasn¡¯t exactly known for their patience. This far out into Dead Space, about a two-month freighter haul to the nearest breathable atmosphere, supply ships were life and they knew it. The Raire in particular was an Anthar Kai vessel, so would have little concern for the plight of lesser species. They¡¯d stick around an extra half day, at most, and then they¡¯d be gone, and not only would this complete an abysmal year of missed quotas, the crew would also have to ration until the next scheduled ship arrived. He wondered how much more he could lower the temperature before they chucked him down the chasm.


    The crew were mostly Vaparozh, with a few Mraboran and Nabak, as well as one lonely Human, the first one to have stepped foot here since the Human that had started this whole mess for Hilosh in the first place.


    ¡°How¡¯s the crew?¡± Hilosh asked. He hadn¡¯t been out of his office in a few days, and in any case, Yarmar was always better with the whole lot of them than he was.


    ¡°You know how they are, they just want to work. Charosar has been talking about how she did four years on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh without any work stoppages and this storm is nothing compared to what they have there.¡±


    ¡°Ha, I also spent time on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh. Those storms are a gentle breeze compared to what¡¯s out there right now. This place? Should have been shut down years ago if they asked me.¡±


    ¡°I take it no one asked you.¡±


    ¡°Nope. Just thought I¡¯d have better luck finding another Drop down there.¡± A lightning bolt struck the top of a crane standing at the edge of the chasm. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I think my luck may have run out.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always my luck, maybe it¡¯ll rub off on you.¡± Yarmar jostled him shoulder-to-shoulder, yet Hilosh didn¡¯t take his eyes off the storm or even crack a smile.


    ¡°You should at least join the men for dinner tonight,¡± Yarmar suggested.

 Book I, Chapter 6.2

    Hilosh sighed and let his eyes wander past the window and up the wall to the ceiling. Everything here was constructed from the same dull grey lightweight metal. No matter how many rugs, tapestries or blankets, shipped in by successive crews who tried to make the barracks more livable, were hung on the walls and covered the floor, it still felt like the inside of a can of salted fish. Between the rationing of water that made showers a scarce commodity and filled the living quarters with a briny aroma and the darkness of his office, he half-expected that when he turned his head he would find not Yarmar, but a bug-eyed scaly fish staring dumbly straight ahead.


    Instead, it was just Yarmar; a whole generation younger than him, although, who wasn¡¯t these days? She gazed out the window with such determination that he could almost believe that she could resolve this storm just by looking at it. Her wide violet eyes, not uncommon in their species, looked deep purple in this light, while his own pale blue ones appeared dim, as if someone had turned off the light behind an empty pane of glass. The light of the storm in general was not kind to their complexion, erasing the darker ringlets that mottled their earthen green skin leaving them looking like monotonous blots of ink, particularly where the mass of flesh that formed at the back of their skull and neck drooped over their shoulders, spilling down slightly over their chests. Despite all that, he was perfectly content to hole up in his metal cave. Yarmar was of course right though, he had to do for the men what she¡¯d done for the women. It wasn¡¯t their fault that they were stuck with him.


    ¡°If I go down and join the men to eat, how else would they know I¡¯m working extra hard on their behalf by watching this blasted storm for hours on end? Probably know more about it than Viri at this point.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s good, we might need a replacement meteorologist soon,¡± Yarmar said.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because if the crew has to ration any harder, he¡¯s first on the list to get eaten.¡±


    Hilosh chuckled, dislodging something in his throat that made him cough. ¡°You¡¯re as dark as a Mraboran,¡± he said.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Well I did work among them for years.¡±


    ¡°Right, that must be why they love you.¡± Rocks; rocks made a lot of sense to Hilosh. People, not so much. He liked to think he knew more about rocks than Yarmar, but if he did, it wasn¡¯t nearly as much as she knew more about people than him.


    ¡°Oh, come now.¡± She paused, and he wished she hadn¡¯t softened her voice. ¡°They love you too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe how I¡¯d taste.¡±


    ¡°See, easy habit to make, harder one to break.¡±


    Hilosh let out a laugh that faded as his thoughts returned to the weather outside. His mind raced to find patterns and hypothesis. No lightning strikes for three seconds? That was a good sign up until the skies would unleash another volley that would jump from guardrail to guardrail down into the open pit. A patch of sky that grew lighter towards the horizon? That meant the storm was running out of steam. And then, a few minutes later, it would grow so dark Hilosh suspected the sun itself might have gone out while no one was watching. Everything in his head was the storm, and so he didn¡¯t even hear when Yarmar took her exit from the office, leaving him with the only company he¡¯d kept in days. A particularly bright flash struck the ground beneath his window.


    Everything was good omens and bad omens and new omens he hadn¡¯t yet ascribed any meaning to. None of them however slowed the approach of the Raire, or hurried up the storm, or transported all their mined ore to the transfer station in orbit. He remembered the words of his son, spoken with such disgust and embarrassment years earlier: ¡°This is why we lost. This is why we¡¯d been losing for centuries.¡± It wasn¡¯t his words, of course, it was theirs, the Thorian educators in that fancy school of his. Hilosh thought it would give Rachek an advantage in the world. He was right, Rachek was doing well in the world, better than his father could have ever imagined himself doing, but it was still somehow the biggest mistake Hilosh had ever made. The second biggest had been agreeing to accept this position. Not having seen either of his kids in years, he figured he¡¯d spend some if his later years in service to his people. And yet somehow it still felt like losing.


    Yarmar once again was right, it was sleep that he needed instead of insisting on this window-side vigil. He¡¯d need the right presence of mind to tell their crew that they needed to section off more parts of the barracks, that they¡¯d be bunking in even closer quarters, and that despite all that, they¡¯d still need to lower the temperature a couple of degrees.


    In the corner of the office, there stood a cot, recessed underneath some shelves. It was one of the reasons that him and Yarmar had separate offices, since they slept in them too. He crawled underneath the thick rough blanket and, sticking his head inside until his breath sufficiently warmed him, fell asleep in minutes.

 Book I, Chapter 6.3

    For a few moments after he¡¯d woken up, Hilosh gave serious consideration to the possibility that he was dead. What else could have explained the doughy blanket of tranquility that he found himself wrapped in? Hilosh vaulted out of bed, nearly slamming his head into the shelves that overhung his cot and went straight to the window, where he found mostly darkness. It was nighttime on this inhospitable rock, but more importantly, the bolts of lightning were reduced to a few sparks glowing along the horizon. Any vestiges of remaining sleep left Hilosh and he marched out of his office, trailing behind plumes of fog from his warm breath in the frigid corridors and stairways of the barracks.


    Stepping into the kitchen, he found Charosar already at work, with Yarmar offering herself as support.


    ¡°You knew about this and didn¡¯t tell me?¡± Hilosh asked Yarmar who was checking on a steaming pot of something nutritious for a change.


    ¡°I figured you needed your sleep,¡± she answered unapologetically.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. But don¡¯t go spreading word, alright?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± she answered, closing the lid and moving to another pot.


    ¡°Should be ready in about a half hour,¡± Charosar declared as she leaned into a knife with the satisfaction of a professional who had been kept from her true passion by so many days of rehydrated ration packs. ¡°Twenty if you want to lend a hand.¡±


    Hilosh pulled off his fur-lined gloves and joined Yarmar at her side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give the call to wake up the crew in a few minutes,¡± Yarmar said. ¡°Then after they had their fill, we¡¯ll head straight out there.¡±


    Hilosh nodded, slicing into a vegetable that had been frozen for far too long; nothing Vaparozh, so he never bothered to learn the name of it. As he toiled with Yarmar and Charosar over the hot pots and pans, for the first time in days he peeled off the outer layers of his clothing, revealing a frame the other two appeared to him to eye with some concern. It was what he always looked like, though, even in his youth when he¡¯d have to finely adjust with his bare hands mining drills that weighed three times as much as he did. It was nice, for a change, not only to shed the fake skin of a shimchek, but some whole other person¡¯s body type as well.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Once they were done, and the food was delivered, Hilosh and Yarmar split up to attend to their duties.


    The crew hadn¡¯t gotten a full night¡¯s rest but with the food filling their bellies and the prospect of getting the job done, no one was complaining and the mood in the male mess hall was generally upbeat. Yarmar was across the door in the female mess hall ¨C their crew was split about even, though she had all the Mraboran, and he figured the mood in there was a few degrees more cheerful than where he was. He never had the same way with words as she did, but in any case, it didn¡¯t seem like they needed him much, as most of the crew was chatting away contently, with the notable exception of the Human, who sat in his own corner of the long table, trying to keep down the alien cuisine.


    Hilosh knew his own prejudices weren¡¯t helping Ayra Santosi none either, that he wasn¡¯t being fair, drawing this kind of inexorable association between two completely random Humans, who likely never met and hadn¡¯t even been aware of the other¡¯s existence. It was hard, though ¨C Humans hadn¡¯t exactly become ubiquitous around these parts and Hilosh encountered so few it was easy to imagine them as part of a small cohesive group rather than a species that numbered in the billions, much like the Vaparozh themselves. Still, every time Hilosh looked at Santosi, he imagined the one that had come years before Santosi, brought to this forgotten corner of space as if intentionally to set off the chain of events that brought Hilosh there.


    The turnover at this mining operation made it that there was no one on this rock left who had met her. Even the ownership of the facility had changed twice since she spent time here, guiding the bore machines, praying away the lightning storms, and freezing in her bunk between supply shipments, just like the rest of them, except for one small difference ¨C somewhere in the dead lava tunnels that crisscrossed this once volcanically active world, she¡¯d discovered a Drop. In the stories that were passed down about the glossy black sphere, its size varied greatly ¨C anywhere from being barely large enough to power a surface-to-orbit shuttle to being suitable for a capital navy ship or a small lunar colony. The only things that were certain was that it did exist and that it was promptly pilfered, most likely by the same Human who found it, leaving nothing here but the promises of finding more. These were the promises sold to the next owner of the mine, and the next, and then to the corporation that Hilosh was working for, who then asked him, for the good of all Vaparozh, to volunteer for this post, not because he had some magic touch, but because everyone else was either too old and important or too young and full of promise. At least Yarmar was someone who could relate. She had a far more positive outlook, though, something he envied her for.


    Just don¡¯t look at Ayra Santosi, Hilosh told himself, focus on the others, and do what Yarmar would do, which, he acknowledged, was useless advice, as he was no Yarmar.

 Book I, Chapter 6.4

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie to you.¡± Hilosh addressed his crew with no prior preamble, but had the whole room turn in his direction by the end of the sentence. ¡°The next time we all see each other, we¡¯re probably going to wish we were dead, but, you know, we won¡¯t be, which is the important part.¡± Too many young faces here to laugh. ¡°The Raire is about a day and a half out and I believe if we work at full burn from now until then, we should have a decent shipment ready. So we¡¯re going to have all boots on the ground for this one, including Yarmar and myself. Oh, and except Viri. We need someone to keep an eye on things here and I don¡¯t want him accidentally falling into a gorge when no one¡¯s looking.¡±


    This elicited a few chuckles from across the room and a nervous groan from the part-time meteorologist.


    ¡°So get your fill, suit up, and I¡¯ll see you all out there in a bit.¡±


    This could have gone worse, he thought. Oh well, the real test would be to see if by the time the Raire arrived, whether it would not be him that they would be tossing into the depths below.


    For the first time in weeks, Hilosh suited up into his outdoor gear, which was limited to heavy duty boots, gloves, a thin insulating outer layer, and a respirator that required a change of filters every few hours rather than a dedicated air supply. Light gear made for lighter work, and Hilosh admitted that all things considered, a Dead Space world could have been far more grueling than this. Thankfully, he hadn¡¯t needed to head out of the barracks too frequently, an advantage of his position and what some would consider his advanced age, which was a good thing, because Aler would not have approved of those rickety guardrails. Hilosh¡¯s wife warned him that if he wasn¡¯t coming back in one piece, he shouldn¡¯t bother coming back at all.


    When the doors of the airlock hissed open, Hilosh was hit with a cold he could immediately feel even through his insulating outer layer. The forceful wind made him glad even for the shabby guardrails. The ground under his feet vibrated with the workings of the bore machines that were emerging from their hiding holes. He switched his respirator¡¯s comm channel to the one that received everyone¡¯s chatter simultaneously at low volume, the kind of din that could drive someone mad but that he found oddly comforting. It allowed him to pretend that they were working in the open air with everyone freely hearing each other, to keep an eye on the general mood of the site, and to immediately be alerted to any emergencies. When he first told Yarmar about it, she laughed and said that only the chronically bored mind of an old man would be able to withstand such noise, but ended up adopting it anyway shortly afterward.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    It was a short walk to the bridge slung across the width of the gorge, and his boots left fresh footprints in the fine white powder that covered the brown, almost raw-meat-coloured stone. It wasn¡¯t snow, and looked very much like salt, but no one here had been brave enough to confirm if it was. Hilosh had worked at sites where there¡¯d be plenty of volunteers. The staff turnover at those was incredibly inconvenient for a co-supervisor, with much unnecessary paperwork. Though even here, where a general undercurrent of common sense prevailed, accidents were not unheard of, and the only medical help around for lightyears was someone who cut their teeth on a ranch and likely fell into this side business when asked if there was anyone in the room who knew how to do their best to reattach a leg and didn¡¯t botch it up too badly after volunteering.


    His first task that day was to oversee the removal of their lowest rig, making sure none of the less experienced workers were crushed between the slowly moving machine and the walls of the bored tunnel. Glorified babysitting though it was ¨C they only seemed to ever be crushed when no one was looking.


    Hilosh walked lower down into the canyon along the metal steps that doubled back on each other in a zig-zag pattern and could swear they were creaking harder after the storm. Perhaps a detail he ought to omit from his next letter to Aler. Truth was, the stairs had been there for decades before him, possibly through worse weather, and they would be there for decades after he was gone.


    Above him, and seeming that much further away when squeezed between the two edges of the cliff, was a murky sky that never revealed its true colours or shown them any glimpses of the sun. To his Vaparozh eyes, evolved on one of the brightest habitable worlds in the Known Reaches, it was an altogether murky affair. From what he knew, it was much like the sky had been over the Vaparozh homeworld ¨C a planet that had been dying until a centuries-long exodus freed it from ninety percent of its inhabitants and allowed it to thrive again. Many Vaparozh, including Hilosh¡¯s own ancestors settled on worlds on the fringes of Thorian space not fully claimed by the Empire and loosely managed by the Anthar Kai, only to find themselves seven hundred years later satisfying the last greedy gulp of the Empire during the War of the Last Gasp. And then hardly a generation would pass until the children ¨C no, Hilosh stopped himself. The only children that mattered now, his only real responsibility, were the young workers he was coming to assist; the rest, anyone outside of this cold rock, were not relevant.

 Book I, Chapter 6.5

    Hours later, Hilosh stood at the mouth of a recently unsealed tunnel while the elevator platform shrieked metallically as it hauled the bore machine and its load up to the surface. They said that it may have been in this very tunnel that the cursed black pearl had been found, or perhaps one of the adjacent ones. Either way, it seemed like today was not the day they would find anther one, but soon perhaps. As he watched the cargo shuttle take off in the direction of the orbital transfer facility, Hilosh permitted himself, for the first time since arriving at the mine, to believe that there was hope buried somewhere within these rocks.


    ¡°Hilosh?¡± His mask radio crackled to life with the sound of Viri¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I hear you.¡±


    ¡°You, uh, better come up to comms.¡± What fresh hell could the meteorologist have cooked up to torment him with now?


    ¡°Are you serious, Viri? I¡¯ve got an extraction operation I need to supervise.¡±


    ¡°Yarmar is already on her way.¡± Naturally, one of them had to have been contacted first; he just wished it would be him for once.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll be right up.¡±


    He was hoping to at least catch up with Yarmar before reaching Viri, but she likely had a head start and he could only move so fast without attracting the attention a supervisor hastily leaving a worksite would garner. By the time he had taken off his gear, the whole time thinking ahead to when had to put it back on again and cursing Viri for his shortsightedness, and walked up several flights of stairs from the airlock to the comms room, he found Yarmar and Viri already huddled over a sector map display.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Hilosh asked.


    ¡°The Raire missed their check-in ping today,¡± Yarmar announced, turning away from the screen.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem too bad.¡± It was customary for supply ships to check in with their destinations on a daily basis to confirm schedules, though this was an Anthar Kai vessel and Thorians were no strangers to following rules and customs only when it suited them. ¡°Is that them?¡± Hilosh gestured with his hand toward a slightly brighter blurry blip on the map.


    ¡°As far as I can tell, still moving and on schedule,¡± Viri confirmed.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Well I didn¡¯t think there was one,¡± Viri replied. ¡°At first. And then I got curious and reached out to them, twice.¡±


    ¡°No response?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Something about the shimmer in Viri¡¯s eyes put a cold hard chill through the mass of flesh at the back of Hilosh¡¯s head. ¡°I think you guys need to hear this.¡±


    At first, Hilosh appreciated the courtesy that the two of them at least waited for him to join up before diving into this next part, but when the message they received from the Raire actually played, Hilosh wished that they had instead neglected to include him, purged it from the system and let him blissfully go on about his day.


    The recording opened with growling noises ¨C five distinct voices, not quite animal, that prowled in the background. Then there was a clash of metal followed by yips and a whimper that rose above the other growls until a new voice spoke directly into the microphone. ¡°Akir.¡± It sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, pulled up from such a deep bout of despair that it threatened to drag Hilosh down into it. ¡°Akir?¡± It said again and Hilosh thought it sounded more like a question this time. ¡°Akir? Akir. Akir!¡± The voice grew in urgency until cutting out and dropping the room into silence. Hilosh thought he could hear not only his own heartbeat but that of Viri and Yarmar as well.


    Hilosh glanced at Yarmar and found her wide unreadable eyes affixed to the comms terminal.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Viri asked, searching the faces of his supervisors for answers.


    ¡°What is ¡®akir¡¯?¡± Hilosh asked and was surprised to find his voice come out as a hoarse whisper.


    ¡°Not ¡®akir¡¯,¡± Yarmar answered, ¡°¡®Akhir¡¯. It¡¯s Thorian.¡±


    ¡°Thorian?¡± Hilosh asked.


    ¡°Not Trade Thorian. Native Thorian. Means roughly ¡®why am I?¡¯¡±


    ¡°You know Native Thorian?¡± Suddenly the transmission they received had competition for being the oddest thing Hilosh heard that day.


    ¡°Enough to get by,¡± Yarmar answered without looking at him, then leaned in to replay the message from the moment the voice rose to be heard above the inexplicable growling in the background.


    ¡°Akhir? Akhir. Akhir!¡± The Thorian reached his agonizing crescendo to be rewound again and again by Yarmar. Hilosh heard Viri make a few laboured swallows and when Hilosh looked down he saw that Viri¡¯s fingers had dug into the desk so hard he expected at any moment to hear Viri¡¯s knuckles snap.


    Yarmar played the recording back too far.


    ¡°What are those noises anyway? Some kind of animal?¡± Viri asked.


    Animal, yes, in the strictest sense of the word, Hilosh suspected. ¡°Let¡¯s just turn it off,¡± he asked and Yarmar obliged. Her gaze softened and she took a full step back from the infernal comms terminal.


    ¡°Keep trying to contact them,¡± Yarmar instructed. ¡°Every two hours. And if you get anything back, call us up before you even listen to it.¡±


    Viri sagged noticeably and let out a small feeble breath. ¡°Thank you.¡± He continued to sit, while his co-supervisors stood; all in silence.


    Yet the Thorian¡¯s final question and proclamation seemed to seep into the walls of the communications room and continued to play faintly into Hilosh¡¯s eardrums.


    ¡°So what do we do now?¡± Viri broke the quiet, perhaps to escape the same ghostly echo.


    Hilosh looked at Yarmar. ¡°We work,¡± he said and she nodded in reply. ¡°The ship is still on its way, and we have ore to move. When it gets here, that¡¯s a problem we can deal with at the time.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.1

    Chapter 7


    Kviye


    Rain was driven in sheets against the windows of their home on the outskirts of Vingu. It was always dark here; a quirk not only of the ceaseless circling motion of the moon they called home around the grey gas giant that held them tightly in their grasp, but also of course the rain, which lent its name to the rainy season, which might as well have been a single continuous season, a constant mirage of dullness. Kviye wandered through her home in a fog. It wasn¡¯t very large, two bedrooms, an office from which her parents ran their courier and transport business, and a kitchen, but it felt that she had been walking around it for hours, if not days.


    Finally, she found what she was looking for ¨C her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, her arms folded in front of her and her eyes cast down. What Kviye had actually been looking for was the kitchen itself, but finding her mother there, Kviye forgot what it was she thought she needed in the kitchen in the first place. Kviye was vaguely aware that her mother was supposed to have been dead, taken many years earlier by a disease called the ¡°grey¡±, one that afflicted her people for centuries and was slowly erasing Humans from her moon and possibly the universe.


    Her mother was right here in the kitchen though, which meant it had all been a big mistake. She must have gotten lost on one of her delivery runs, and all this time she was making her way home, across undulating stormy marshes, and grass forests taller than any Human. She looked so very tired, so Kviye¡¯s theory made sense. Her mother must have sensed Kviye¡¯s lingering presence at the entrance to the kitchen because she looked up, her eyes sad and distant. ¡°Kvee?¡± she asked, except it was not her mother¡¯s voice, familiar, but someone else¡¯s, and sounding oh so far away.


    ¡°Ma?¡± Kviye wanted to come closer, but she couldn¡¯t move; chained to the spot with invisible threads.


    ¡°Kvee.¡± Again, her mother¡¯s voice was paper thin, delivered to her across eons from another world. Kviye needed to cross that distance ¨C the immeasurable expanse that had grown between them.


    ¡°Ma. I¡¯ve seen them. I¡¯ve seen the stars.¡± Kviye wasn¡¯t sure if her mother could hear her. She was right there in front of her, yet how could she make her words reach across the same expanse from which her mother called her. ¡°They¡¯re even more beautiful when you¡¯re up there.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Kvee?¡±


    ¡°It was our little ship that took me there. It¡¯s where we came from Ma, I know it. And it¡¯s where we belong.¡±


    Her mother raised her hand, and reached out slightly, as if putting it against Kviye¡¯s cheek from across the kitchen, and had she been able to, she would have known that it was wet with tears.


    ¡°Kvee? Where are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here Ma. I¡¯ll always be here, no matter where I am.¡±


    ¡°Kvee.¡± It was the last thing her mother said, with a sense of relief this time, and before she, and the kitchen and the whole house disappeared, Kviye¡¯s mother smiled.


    Kviye woke up in the belly of darkness. Rain was lashing what she realized was the hull of the skiff, and with the cockpit having been sheered open, many of the drops were making it onto Kviye. From somewhere within the tempest, that familiar voice called out to her. Kviye tried to take a deep breath in response, but the sharp pain shooting through her chest told her that the seatbelt restraints had worked as designed, and took some of her ribs with them.


    She groped for the buckle in pitch blackness ¨C the ship didn¡¯t even have the decency to catch fire in order to give her a light to see or be found by, or else whatever wimpy effort it mustered had already been snuffed out by the rain. Freeing herself from the harness had exhausted Kviye and her back and forehead were wet as much from sweat as from the raindrops that invaded what was left of the skiff. She thought that maybe it would be best to return to the sleep from which she was so rudely roused, but realized at the last moment that it was a terrible idea and tried to lift herself up from her pilot¡¯s chair.


    She cried out at the pain that had gripped her right leg with a voice she had a hard time recognizing as her own. At least there¡¯s still legs down there, she thought, taking deep breaths to keep herself from slipping under, glad for the first time to not be able to see her situation in its entirety.


    ¡°Kvee!¡± The voice broke through the rain and wind ¨C Val¡¯s voice, moving further away in the wrong direction. Kviye tried to recall the last few minutes of her crash to figure out where she had finally brought down the skiff. She had been aiming for the marshes in the river delta north of Zhakitrinbur. Before that, she was kissing the stars; the beautiful stars. She was going to return to them someday. Her eyelids grew heavy and those perfectly stoic stars drifted in from the darkness to dance in front of her eyes. All she needed to do was reach out to them but no, it was too early to return, and certainly not like this.


    How could Val possibly navigate the rivulets in this light? Kviye wondered if the marshes here were deep enough to swallow the skiff whole and if the dampness she felt at her feet was blood, rain, or the landscape trying to reclaim her. It didn¡¯t matter though, this was Val, she wouldn¡¯t make any mistakes. She¡¯d be looking in the exact right direction. Kviye just had to make sure she nudged her the rest of the way.

 Book I, Chapter 7.2

    There was an emergency kit in the cockpit. It was one of the first things Kviye¡¯s mother had shown her when Kviye had first boarded the ship, tapping on its metal cover and going, ¡°If you¡¯re ever in trouble, everything you need is in here.¡± Kviye remembered exactly where it was, but couldn¡¯t recall what had actually been in it, as she¡¯d never had to use it before, and right then she hoped it didn¡¯t solely contain a picture of her parents as some sort of cheesy metaphor. The real problem was that even though it was located only a couple of metres to her left, the distance seemed insurmountable from where she was sitting. It was either force herself to move her leg or wait and hope for the best, and Kviye never considered herself as a particularly patient person.


    Attempting to shift herself out of the seat, Kviye found that her other leg could still support her weight. Even so, the smallest tug trying to get her right leg free sent a stabbing reminder that something was very wrong with it. Without wasting any time mentally preparing for the maneuver, Kviye heaved herself out of the chair hoping that it would dislodge her. Her leg had been freed, but nearly so had her consciousness.


    Propped up on her arms on the floor, she threw up, and ignoring the new searing sensation in her chest, Kviye crawled forward, dragging her right leg behind her. Although she had known the ship inside and out since she was a child, in her state and with nothing to guide her but touch, she wondered if she would somehow veer dangerously off course in this simple task, and spend her last hours in the engine room instead. As it turned out, reaching the wall was the easy part, and now she had to leverage her body and one good leg to push herself up to the hatch where she kept the emergency kit.


    Finally, her fingers found the metal ring of the latch and after a few pulls, the slightly warped panel came open and she slid back down to the floor with the kit, propping herself with her back against the wall and her legs thrown out in the front her. Inside the kit, she felt a hand-cranked flashlight ¨C a useful tool in theory but with her cracked ribs, an agonizingly complicated contraption.


    Through gritted teeth she wound the flashlight enough to survey the ship and confirm what her own imagination vividly suspected. The beam of light revealed gutted wires and protruding sinister shards of paneling. The passageway that led to the engine room was blocked by a mangle of metal and Kviye wasn¡¯t even sure if there was any ship left on the other side. Above her, a gash in the cockpit a couple of feet across exposed the silver needles of rain illuminated by the flashlight.


    Inside the kit, she found the basics: bandages, painkillers ¨C something she briefly considered but decided she preferred having her mind cloudy with pain instead of drugs ¨C and other basic survival materials including a red flare. She considered the hole in the ceiling and the distance to where she sat and concluded that on a good day it was an easy shot. Only having one crack at it, with perhaps her entire life hanging in the balance, made for less than ideal conditions, but with Valyen¡¯s calls barely reaching Kviye through the wind, the time for second-guessing was quickly running out.


    Kviye positioned the flashlight in her lap, pointing up at the roof of her skiff and the narrow window that was her target and held onto the flare with both hands. They were shaking. Beyond her hands, her right leg was bent at a nauseating angle. She finessed her aim trying to keep her breathing slow and steady without forgetting to breathe altogether, a task she failed several times and had to take a deep breath and reorient herself. Finally, she dropped into a steady rhythm, let out the slightest exhale, and released the flare, which, after bouncing off the edge of the hole, hurtled upwards, and went off somewhere outside the ship.


    As she lay back against the wall of her skiff, of her mother¡¯s skiff, of the skiff of a hundred generations before her, going back to a people she now knew were intrepid voyagers, she wondered if the calls for her name were getting louder because someone was nearing the ship, or because she was nearing those who had come before her.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ---


    The next time Kviye opened her eyes she was floating towards a bright light. The light was pouring out of an open doorway and Kviye thought that there was some poetic beauty in her version of the afterlife being Valyen¡¯s family home. Of course, it had been Valyen¡¯s home in Zhakitrinbur, on the east side of the single continent of the moon of Tanfana, circling a grey gas giant, and the floating sensation she was experiencing was her being carried along, one arm slung over Valyen¡¯s shoulder and the other over the shoulder of Valyen¡¯s uncle. Someone was standing in the doorway, black against the light, and as Kviye drew nearer the dark figure let out a yelp that was a mixture of horror and relief.


    As she was rushed into the house, Kviye recognized the person in the door as Valyen¡¯s mother. Kviye tried to tell her that she was okay, but instead produced a sound that seemed to upset the woman even more, a hand coming over her friend¡¯s mother¡¯s mouth.


    Valyen¡¯s younger brother Adri had poked his head out of his bedroom door, groggy with sleep and then startled wide awake by the sight of their approach.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there catching flies. Go call a doctor,¡± Valyen ordered him.


    Adri said something Kviye didn¡¯t catch and Valyen snapped in response, ¡°I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not a doctor, that¡¯s why I told you to get one.¡±


    Now they were lowering her onto a bed, her body screaming in relief at the horizontal position and the slight sinking sensation of the mattress. If only she had also been dry. Then, remembering the blood on her leg and not wanting to ruin Valyen¡¯s bedsheets, Kviye tried to rise. A firm shove to her shoulder forced her down, and the admonishment of ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous¡± sent her back into unconsciousness.


    Hushed worried tones reached Kviye through a dark veil. They were talking about her, like she wasn¡¯t there, and for all they knew she wasn¡¯t. It was just that her eyes were so heavy, she thought it would be easier lifting the skiff and throwing it back up to the stars than opening them, so instead she listened. Only when Valyen put her face close to hers and shook her did Kviye manage to pry her own eyelids apart.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Valyen said. Her face was smeared with dirt, hair matted down to her face and somewhere during the rescue she got cuts on her forehead and cheek.


    ¡°You look terrible,¡± Kviye wheezed.


    ¡°Ha!¡± Despite the outburst, Kviye could see fresh tears form in Valyen¡¯s eyes. ¡°Good thing we didn¡¯t drag you in front of any mirrors.¡±


    ¡°Me? I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°Damn right you are.¡± Valyen blinked away whatever was in her eye. ¡°The doctor will be back in a couple of hours to set your leg. Other than that, and a couple of cracked ribs, somehow, you¡¯re in one piece.¡±


    Kviye rolled her head back on her pillow to stare up at the ceiling, from which the memory of her mother¡¯s photograph gazed down at her. Somehow indeed, she thought.


    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valyen pacing. Her friend had been right and wrong about how Kviye¡¯s voyage would go. Kviye¡¯s breaking the atmosphere with relative ease revealed that the skiffs were meant to head into open space ¨C it was probably where they¡¯d come from in the first place Valyen though was right that in Kviye¡¯s excitement, in her allowing her dreams to block out everything else, Kviye had underestimated what it would take to get there. Valyen knew something like this would happen. Kviye saw it in her face as the skiff took off from outside her garage earlier that day; that her friend had been preparing for this and worse. And now that it came for her, that she lay broken but alive in Valyen¡¯s bed, there didn¡¯t seem to be even an inkling of desire to tell her ¡°I told you so.¡± Even if Kviye¡¯s own mind now repeated it as a mantra, she knew she¡¯d never have to hear it from Valyen. Even when they¡¯d be old and grey and watching the sun set over the sea, Valyen would never even joke about how that time many years ago Kviye should have listened. And if she did, Kviye would still have agreed; that yes, she should have, and that she should have probably been better at learning from her mistakes. Yet there she now was, feeling with a sense of relief the little black sphere in her pocket, the one that had let her see the stars, and already calculating the ways in which she would be able to return.


    ¡°I saw, them, Val. I ¨C¡±


    Either not hearing or pretending not to, Valyen walked up to the bed and interrupted.


    ¡°We¡¯ve radioed your father. He said he will get out of Vingu as soon as he can.¡±


    ¡°And the ship?¡±


    ¡°The ship?¡± Valyen repeated startled, looking away for a moment and then turning back to Kviye. ¡°There¡¯s only spare parts and scrap metal left, Kvee. There¡¯s no ¡®ship¡¯ anymore.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.3

    Behind Valyen¡¯s family¡¯s home stood another structure, made from the same white stone as most dwellings in the city of Zhakitrinbur. It served as a waystation for the garage¡¯s out-of-town customers, and even the occasional space-faring ones. When Kviye and her father first moved in, the whole place smelled like a meal prepared years earlier by one of the off-worlders. Whatever aromatic thing had been consumed within those walls, it did not come from Tanfana. Now, six months after they were forced to sell their family home in Vingu, the house in which Kviye¡¯s mother had passed, their new accommodations did not quite feel like home, but between the family meals, working with Valyen in the garage, and Adri, Kviye thought it was almost there.


    Her own bedroom was at the very top of the building, so when she¡¯d get up in the morning, the first thing she¡¯d do is look out the window, and catch a glimpse of the bay peeking over the buildings of Zhakitrinbur. Today it had been the rich green of foliage and looked both alluring and foreboding at the same time.


    ¡°Are you up already?¡± Adri asked groggily from the bed.


    ¡°You know I am, go back to sleep.¡± Not needing to be asked twice, he fell back on the pillow and would be out until breakfast time.


    Kviye wasn¡¯t sure exactly how it happened. Adri was younger than his sister by a couple of years, which made him and Kviye almost the same age, and they¡¯d known each other since they were kids. It was his attentiveness as she was recovering through the worst of her injuries that made her see him in a different light, and now, though the nights he had spent in her bedroom were not exactly a common occurrence, they were becoming more frequent.


    His sickness, the same one that had taken Kviye¡¯s mother, still hung over them like a shroud, progressing slowly though it was, yet there seemed to be an unspoken rule between them to never address it and take whatever it was they had day by day. It had worked for Adri and Valyen¡¯s parents, before their father passed, so perhaps it could for them.


    For a moment, she watched him sleep, a messy head of straw-coloured hair that had fallen somewhat over his shut eyes, his light-skinned face not showing any of the grey splotches that served as prelude to his bad days. Instead Adri, tall, not quite frail but slight of build, with his small nose and ever-concerned eyes, even in his sleep, almost made her consider crawling back into bed and skipping her morning routine. He was going to have one of his good days.


    Her own days started a few hours before anyone else¡¯s, even Valyen¡¯s, who was compelled to put in some work before breakfast otherwise she was never able to relax during her meal. Ever since she was able to do move her leg, Kviye had devoted her mornings to exercises that aimed to strengthen it with the hope of getting back full use. The doctor said it was definitely within the realm of possibility and she was getting close, save for the pain at the end of the day. She had recently incorporated morning runs into her regiment, and worked her way up to five kilometres daily.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    From an irritating necessity that only served to remind her of the fate of the skiff, the runs quickly turned into her favourite part of the day. It hardly ever rained on this side of the continent, so after a few city blocks, she arrived at the shore, running along boardwalks, dirt paths and through dockyards, all overlooking the brilliantly shimmering green ocean of Tanfana. Soaked in the briny breeze coming off the water, she watched the city of Zhakitrinbur wake up before making her way back home, just in time for breakfast.


    ¡°Good run?¡± Valyen asked, coming in from the garage that abutted their house to wash her hands.


    ¡°Just some discomfort towards the end. Otherwise can¡¯t complain. Oh, and Kolei told me to let you know he¡¯s got a fresh catch of zholteska fish, in case you were interested.¡±


    Valyen rolled her eyes. ¡°You tell a man one time three years ago that you enjoy the occasional zholteska and you subscribe to a lifetime of updates on the latest zholteska catch, I swear,¡± Valyen said, finishing up and then following Kviye in for breakfast.


    ¡°Morning Kviye,¡± said Valyen¡¯s mom as Kviye entered the combined kitchen and dining room to help set the table.


    ¡°Morning Gos Morozo,¡± Kviye greeted Valye¡¯s mom with the usual term of respect for elders.


    ¡°Kvee, I thought we¡¯ve been over this. She¡¯s Gos Morozo.¡± Valyen¡¯s mother nodded in the direction of Valyen¡¯s grandmother, a grey-haired woman who was one of those uncommon people on Tanfana who were lucky enough to live to see their grandchildren grown. ¡°Me you can call ¡®Ma¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kviye answered, knowing full well she wouldn¡¯t be able to; to take the step of calling someone else by the name she¡¯d always called her own mother would feel too much like abandonment.


    ¡°Morning, Ba,¡± Valyen said as she gave her sitting grandma a hearty squeeze.


    ¡°Morning, Ba.¡± Kviye followed suit, putting a big smile on the woman¡¯s face. Never having met either of her two grandmas, this felt more acceptable.


    ¡°Ah, see Lian, that must mean that I¡¯m the favourite,¡± Grandma Morozo called to her daughter-in-law.


    ¡°I just know that you would beat me with cane of yours if I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that I might,¡± Valyen¡¯s grandma noted seriously and then followed with a wheezing laugh.


    ¡°Smells great, Uncle Dekan,¡± Kviye said as she grabbed two plates from the counter next to a gaunt man in a loose-fitting shirt with a beard that seemed equal parts well-groomed and neglected. Valyen¡¯s mother¡¯s younger brother moved in shortly after Valyen¡¯s dad had passed away. His own wife had succumbed to the grey at an early age, so he was eager to abandon the house he would never raise his family in and moved in to help out the household and his favourite niece.


    Kviye knew Valyen would probably yell at her if she found out, or else she¡¯d already noticed but said nothing because she knew it made Kviye feel better, but the reason Kviye took it upon herself to bring the food from the counter to the table, was to ensure she either picked up the smallest portion to begin with, or else an extra sausage or piece of bread accidentally made it from her plate onto someone else¡¯s.

 Book I, Chapter 7.4

    Within minutes of Kviye¡¯s arrival in the kitchen, all the members of the family settled around the breakfast table. Kviye¡¯s father had come in from his daily rounds looking for more work. He¡¯d had a part time job running numbers for a woman who owned a butcher shop and a bakery, but most of the openings were to work physical labour at the docks, which at his age and his general lack of physical labour experience, having run the accounting of the family business since he was married, were generally off the table for him. Still, he¡¯d come in with a faint smile and a ¡°good morning¡± for Kviye and a complete lack of updates which she would later have to claw out of Valyen¡¯s mom instead.


    Adri also arrived by this point, as always walking in while trying to avoid eye contact and scratching behind his head, as if embarrassed that he¡¯d slept in even though no one present would think of mentioning it.


    Even Grandma Morozo lifted her creaky bones from her corner chair that allowed her to observe all the activities in the kitchen and adjacent living room and took her seat at the table.


    ¡°Lian, what is this?¡± Grandma Morozo called out, gesturing with both hands to the spread before her. ¡°Where¡¯s my drink?¡±


    ¡°Ma, I thought we¡¯ve been over this,¡± came the gentle resigned reply of Valyen¡¯s mom.


    ¡°We have, which is why I thought you¡¯d learn by now.¡± Grandma Morozo smiled wryly in the direction of Valyen, who kept her lips in a tight straight line so as to suppress a laugh and maintain solidarity with her mother.


    ¡°Ma, it¡¯s still morning,¡± Valyen¡¯s mom reiterated, unwilling to budge from where she was sitting.


    ¡°What of it? If you live as long as me, god forbid, we¡¯ll see what you need to get through every morning. Now quit wasting an old woman¡¯s life and get me my drink, or I¡¯ll do it myself.¡±


    Valyen leaned in to whisper in Kviye¡¯s ear. ¡°She would, too. Last time she took half an hour and almost broke her hip.¡±


    Just as Kviye snorted in response, Valyen¡¯s mom slapped her hands on both her thighs and let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Fine. Far be it for me to expect anyone to be halfway sensible in this house.¡± They all watched her, Grandma Morozo nodding gravely, as Valyen¡¯s mom grabbed a stepstool and used it to reach to the highest cabinet above the kitchen sink from which she pulled out a bottle of a slightly murky colourless liquid, and poured her mother-in-law a small glass, placing it heavily on the wooden table before her.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    As Valyen¡¯s mom passed him on the way back, Uncle Dekan leaned back in his chair and asked, ¡°Lian, you mind pouring me a little of that too while you¡¯re up?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you start,¡± she responded, making a show of holding the bottle as far away from him as possible.


    Grandma Morozo slammed back her drink in a single gulp, loudly smacked her lips, and followed it up with a throaty ¡°aaah¡±, the slightest shine of tears now visible in the corners of her eyes. In about fifteen minutes, if Kviye¡¯s previous experience was any indication, she would get giggly. This would gradually morph into rowdiness, followed by a brief period of belligerence after which Grandma Morozo would clock out for a nap that would take her through to lunch. Kviye always looked forward to the rowdy phase.


    ¡°There¡¯s a ship that¡¯s coming in any moment now,¡± Valyen said while she still had food stuffed behind her cheek. ¡°They radioed about an hour ago saying they¡¯ve got hull damage so I gave them the go-ahead to land on our main platform We owe it to the Malkins to get those two tractor engines repaired as quickly as possible, since we¡¯re about to have our hands full.¡±


    When they moved into the Morozo household, Kviye became Valyen¡¯s right hand in the garage. There was no way she was going to miss out on this job ¨C they hadn¡¯t had an off-world ship land here since Kviye¡¯s crash.


    ¡°Any idea who they are?¡± Kviye asked. Ever since she confirmed that the ancient skiffs that served as transports on her moon had once been capable of spaceflight, it only strengthened her theory that their ancestors came from some long-forgotten homeworld. By Valyen¡¯s expression, Kviye figured that she was not amused by the twinkle in Kviye¡¯s eye at the prospect of a Human from a distant world possibly visiting them some day.


    ¡°Captain sounded like a Winti to me,¡± Valyen answered with a shrug and shoveled more food in her mouth.


    Not ten minutes later, Grandma Morozo, a proud longshore worker herself, with the zhelteska fish tattoo on her arm to prove it, threw shade at the subsequent stock in her family by bringing up Valyen¡¯s grandfather. ¡°Mitya was a man who built his body on the docks. Had the arms the size of tree trunks and not mention what was in ¨C¡±


    Before Kviye got a chance to see everyone¡¯s face turn beet red except Valyen¡¯s, who was somehow immune to all of her grandmother¡¯s shenanigans, the house began to vibrate, causing the cutlery to dance on the table. Rowdy Grandma Morozo was going to have to wait ¨C their newest customer was coming in for a landing.


    When she and Valyen stepped outside, the ship was already low enough to blot out the sun with its insect-like shadow as it descended towards the landing platform. Though still black and mostly featureless against the bright light, Kviye could tell it was in rough shape, and its engines sounded like they had the starship equivalent of bronchitis.


    The wind from the ship¡¯s atmospheric thrusters blew Kviye¡¯s hair into her face, while Valyen¡¯s ponytail twitched angrily as she regarded the vessel with lowered eyebrows and narrowed eyes, tightening the arms that she crossed in front of her.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± she grumbled through shut teeth.


    ¡°What is it? What is that thing?¡± Kviye asked as the ship concluded the last few metres of its descent and landed in the yard with a groan of metal.


    ¡°A comet chaser,¡± Valyen answered with cool disdain, ¡°Only thing worse would have been a pirate ship.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.5

    The ship that contained their newest customers was an ugly conglomeration of parts, the big belly suggesting that it may have once been a smaller cargo freighter. The hull was covered by a decades¡¯ old patchwork of repairs, while the great arms that made it look like an insect appeared to be welded to the body using little other than the hope that the ship wouldn¡¯t fall apart.


    After a few minutes of the comet chaser hissing and creaking as it adjusted to their atmosphere, there was a low thud in the hull. The entry ramp lowered after getting jammed in place for a moment and two Wintis ducked their heads and stepped into the daylight. Built for few ships other than their own, the Wintis stood at least a head taller than most Humans, owing mostly to their long toes. Kviye had never seen them because Wintis wore boots up half their leg, but she had heard that the toes culminated in hooves. The Wintis¡¯ eyes, which sat wide apart on a slightly triangular elongated face, were round and mostly black, with only thin slivers of white visible on the sides. Flattened noses with narrow vertical nostrils were surrounded by thick short fur that covered the bottom half of their faces, while the Wintis¡¯ hair was generally short, culminating in a slightly longer tuft at the top of their head.


    Of the two Wintis that disembarked, the one on the right was taller, with lighter auburn fur that stuck out messily from his cheeks. The other was chestnut brown, had a flatter nose and a scar running from his brow past his eye and down the length of his cheek. He stepped down the ramp more cautiously than his companion, holding with both hands a metal rod wrapped partially in gauze that Kviye did not immediately recognize as a weapon.


    ¡°You can put that neural devastator away or walk right back into your ship.¡± Valyen spoke in the language common to spacefarers.


    The Winti with the lighter fur looked around for a moment, then patted the other on the arm.


    ¡°Apologies. My first mate has seen more than his fair share of pirates so he tends to be a little too careful sometimes.¡± The Winti with the scar didn¡¯t take his intense gaze off Valyen but did place the rod into a metal holster behind his back. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Mokob of the comet chaser Oshken, and this is Nmala.¡±


    ¡°My name is Morozo Valyen and this is Hon Kviye.¡±


    Kviye nodded, wondering if Valyen spoke for her because she mistakenly thought Kviye couldn¡¯t keep up with the language.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me saying, I didn¡¯t really expect to encounter any Humans this far out.¡±


    Kviye and Valyen glanced at each other at the unfamiliar word.


    ¡°Humans?¡± Valyen repeated.


    ¡°Humans, yes,¡± Captain Mokob hesitated, ¡°That is the name of your species, right?¡±


    A ringing rose in Kviye¡¯s ears and a heat bubbled in her chest. Her mouth went dry but still she managed to speak in a tongue much rustier than Valyen¡¯s. ¡°You know of others like us?¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Why sure. You¡¯re not a common sight, mind you, but,¡± the Captain¡¯s eyes widened and his mouth opened into a smile that revealed his flat blunt teeth, ¡°One of my crew is Human. I¡¯ll go get him.¡±


    As Mokob walked back up the ramp, Nmala stood immobile, regarding them. The ringing in Kviye¡¯s ears only grew louder, making it hard for her to hear her own thoughts as they raced through the endless possibilities of what the next minutes could bring. She glanced briefly at Valyen and found her frozen with cruel determination, a look Kviye had never before seen on her friend¡¯s face. She thought that maybe if the weapon was in Valyen¡¯s hands, both the Wintis would be dead by now and the ship blown up into scrap.


    ¡°Hey Samir!¡± Captain Mokob shouted into the open door. ¡°Samir.¡± A muffled reply came from within. ¡°Ngado? ¡­ Could you get Samir for me?¡± Mokob turned back to rejoin Nmala on the ramp, resuming his smiling disposition right where he left off. ¡°He¡¯ll be right out.¡±


    Kviye¡¯s fingers found Valyen¡¯s hand and grabbed it and she appreciated that Valyen returned an assuring squeeze back.


    A young man, with a sandy light brown face partially obscured by dark grease stains, and with a head full of short dark hair wound into dense coils, stepped out of the ship into the light. To Kviye¡¯s eyes, he was unmistakably one of them. His eyes lit up when he saw them, and he rattled off a sentence in a tongue that was unfamiliar to Kviye. Judging by Valyen¡¯s silence, it was equally foreign to her.


    The man¡¯s face shed some of its enthusiasm which was replaced by confusion. He spoke in the language again, this time making it sound like a question, but Kviye and Valyen remained lost.


    ¡°Do you speak Trade Thorian at least?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valyen answered, ¡°Though I didn¡¯t know that¡¯s what it was called.¡±


    ¡°Great, perfect. Sorry, I guess I shouldn¡¯t assume you¡¯d know StEC this far out near the Adaract Hive. Still, it¡¯s nice to see some familiar faces. Though, I have to ask, are you okay?¡±


    He was looking at Valyen when he said it, and she narrowed her eyes before replying, ¡°Me? Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve just never seen a Human so pale before.¡±


    Valyen looked like she was about to dig deep into her knowledge of informal Trade Thorian when Kviye stepped in with her own question. ¡°You mean there are others?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    She wasn¡¯t sure if it was her accent or the fact that the words caught in her throat but she repeated, ¡°Like us. Are there others like us?¡±


    ¡°Humans? Oh, like ¡­ billions. On Earth and on the colonies and oooooh I know what¡¯s going on here!¡± His mouth was agape in wonder as he shook the arm of his captain who¡¯d watched the conversation with increased fascination. ¡°This must be one of those lost tribes. The ones that lost contact after the Great Fire. I would have thought they¡¯d found all of you by now but I guess not.¡±


    ¡°The Great Fire?¡± Kviye wasn¡¯t sure if she liked the taste of those words on her tongue.


    Captain Mokob¡¯s honking laugh startled her momentarily. ¡°Well isn¡¯t it just the most fortuitous thing that we landed here? Looks like you have a lot to catch up on. And you,¡± he pointed a finger at Valyen, ¡°Look like the person to talk business with.¡±


    ¡°Your crew should disembark,¡± Kviye offered. ¡°They can sleep in the lodgings behind the garage.¡± She gestured with her head towards the white building where her and her father had lived for the past few months.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Valyen hissed at her in their native tongue.


    ¡°Offering them a place to stay.¡±


    ¡°But at your place?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not our place. That¡¯s ¨C¡±


    ¡°Please, my apologies,¡± Captain Mokob interrupted. ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to intrude.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not intruding,¡± Kviye said.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing really, my crew is fine to sleep aboard the ship. It¡¯s where we live anyway.¡±


    ¡°You can sleep on the ship, Captain. I need a break from all that metal,¡± Samir said, and elbowed past his Captain to walk down the ramp.


    Mokob looked over his shoulder and then back at Kviye and Valyen. ¡°Believe it or not, it does look better on the inside.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.6

    Like the crew of the Oshken indicated in their call to Valyen, their ship suffered significant hull damage while they were prospecting the ice rings around the furthest planet in their system. By Valyen¡¯s own estimation, even though she made it no secret that she wanted them off the landing platform outside her house as quickly as possible, it would take at least ten days to fix. In the meantime, most of the crew moved into the guest lodgings, with a few choosing to stay behind on the ship, while Kviye moved into Valyen¡¯s room and her father stayed in the single guest bedroom.


    There were fifteen of them in all, mostly a Winti crew with Samir, two Fusir brothers and a member of a species Kviye had never seen before called Mraboran.


    The first evening after they landed, Valyen¡¯s mom invited Captain Mokob and his first mate for dinner at the family table. The Captain chose to bring Samir along as well.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t think we made enough for extra guests,¡± Valyen said flatly when she opened the door to admit the Wintis and their tagalong Human.


    ¡°Nonsense, Valyen,¡± her mother said sharply from the kitchen, trying to soften her tone in front of the guests, ¡°We have plenty to go around for everyone. Please come in.¡±


    ¡°I have to say we really appreciate the invitation,¡± Mokob said. ¡°We haven¡¯t eaten planet-side in months and everything smells absolutely delicious.¡±


    ¡°You mean you¡¯ve been only on your ship that whole time?¡± Kviye asked.


    ¡°Well, we did waylay at two space stations, which is a step up from floating around in the confines of our ship, but can¡¯t compete with fresh ingredients taken right off the land.¡±


    The Captain and Nmala took their seats, awkwardly stretching their ungainly limbs under the table, while Uncle Dekan brought in an extra chair for Samir.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Samir said and Uncle Dekan grunted in return. Within the family, it was only Valyen and Kviye that were comfortable with Trade Thorian. Valyen¡¯s mother could get by if she had to, while the others had no knowledge of it whatsoever, so the two of them served as translators during dinner to the best of their abilities.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think it possible,¡± Captain Mokob said after a few bites, ¡°But the food tastes even more delicious than it smells.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°You¡¯re too kind, Captain,¡± Valyen¡¯s mother said, tilting her head to the side.


    ¡°Not at all. Nmala here does most of the food prep on board our ship and he¡¯ll be the first to tell you how astonishingly good this is by comparison.¡±


    Nmala made a grunt that could as easily have been a declaration of a life-long vendetta as a statement of acquiescence.


    ¡°Well, second to tell you anyway,¡± the Captain added with a slight shake of the head.


    ¡°So that last world you¡¯d visited. What was it like?¡± Kviye asked.


    ¡°Oh, it was that small Human colony on the edge of Winti space, nothing remarkable. What was it again?¡±


    ¡°Nkagan¡± Samir answered.


    ¡°That¡¯s right! It¡¯s where we picked up this fine lad to join our crew.¡± The Captain put his arm round Samir and shook him a bit.


    ¡°Is that where you¡¯re from Samir?¡± Kviye asked, trying yet failing to not make her conversation sound like an interview.


    ¡°No, I grew up on another world elsewhere in the HID.¡±


    ¡°The HID?¡±


    ¡°Right, sorry, the Human Interstellar Dependency ¨C it¡¯s the name of all the Human colony worlds. I grew up on an insignificant little rock in one corner of it, not that much bigger than what you have here, and ended up moving to Nkagan because they¡¯re going through a construction boom right now. It¡¯s a boom alright, the workers though hardly get any benefit from it. And then one day I bumped into old Nmala here at the pub after my shift and he talked my ear off about their little venture.¡±


    ¡°Did he now?¡± Valyen said, looking at Nmala who seemed to only have eyes for his food.


    ¡°And now been flying with the crew of the Oshken for the last few months,¡± Captain Mokob said.


    ¡°So what is it that the crew of your ship does?¡± Kviye asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re scavengers,¡± Valyen interjected, not lifting her eyes from the fork that was approaching her mouth.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Must have having sensed her daughter¡¯s tone but not recognizing the word, Valyen¡¯s mother leaned into Kviye for a translation. ¡°Valyen!¡± she chastised when she got the answer.


    ¡°That¡¯s alright. It¡¯s a fair assessment a lot of the time. A little salvage here, some minor prospecting there, you know, little things to make ends meet. But it¡¯s the comets that give folks like us our name is where the money really is. Comets are temperamental beasts. And they need a particularly bold kind of crew to tame. They¡¯re not beholden to the confines of our stellar systems and often visit us from far outside the Known Reaches. And sometimes they bear unspeakable riches. Mostly its rare ores, sometimes organic particles used for research and medicines. And if fortune¡¯s favour truly smiles on you,¡± Captain Mokob dropped his voice low and smiled, putting his hand into an inside pocket of his coat. ¡°You may find yourself a lode of these.¡± Pinched between his fingers he held an instantly recognizable black orb with its shadowy halo. A little smaller than the specimen that had taken Kviye to space and now sat securely in her pocket, the sphere in the Captain¡¯s hand called to Kviye with its familiar ominous song. Kviye glanced at Valyen and thought her friend looked like Mokob brought an actual bapa zhaga into her home.

 Book I, Chapter 7.7

    ¡°Beautiful isn¡¯t it?¡± Captain Mokob said, the black pearl held out between his fingers drawing the attention of his eyes to the exclusion of those he was speaking to. ¡°You¡¯re a mechanic, Valyen, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen your fair share of these before ¨C the backbone of all advanced technology in the Known Reaches. Interstellar travel at the scale we see it would not be possible without them. The money you¡¯d fetch for one this size will let you live comfortably for a couple of months anywhere in the Known Reaches. This particular specimen is very dear to me ¨C the last remaining piece of my share of the biggest windfall I scored on a comet chaser when I was hardly older than Samir here. The rest of the loot I spent to live like a royal for a few years and after that I bought the Oshken and founded my own crew.¡±''


    ¡°I find that very hard to believe,¡± Valyen said, her mouth full of food that was being chewed with some hostility.


    ¡°It¡¯s not surprising,¡± Mokob answered. ¡°It is a wild tale of riches. But these beauties can¡¯t be made, you see, they can only be found. And the places they¡¯re found are often remote, hard to get to, and unpredictable. Which means finders are in high demand and get paid accordingly.¡±


    Mokob slipped the sphere back in his pocket and its hold over Kviye dissolved.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to know,¡± she said, ¡°What are they, exactly? I¡¯ve asked this question before, but nobody¡¯s been able to give me a straight answer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because no one has one,¡± Captain Mokob replied with a slight shrug before sipping his drink.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± This time, it was Valyen¡¯s turn to ask, placing her left forearm on the table and leaning forward.


    ¡°What I mean is, even though everyone uses them, no one really knows what they are or where they came from. There are theories of course. Some believable, others less so. One I hear the most is that its ancient technology so advanced that it seems magical to us. I don¡¯t know what use the ancients had for shoving their tech into comets and other odd corners of the universe, though there¡¯s plenty of theories on that too. I think it¡¯s just folks trying to come up with something that will let them continue to close their eyes to the fantastical.¡±


    Samir nodded, and then offered his own, ¡°I once heard it could be leftover material from the Big Bang. The distilled essence of creation itself.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, another very ¡®scientific¡¯ explanation, if you will,¡± Mokob said.


    There was a brief silence at the table. Captain Mokob and Samir seemed to consider other theories that they¡¯ve heard, while the first mate Nmala looked his usual stoic self, but it was the first mate¡¯s turn to speak.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Blood of ancient gods,¡± Nmala said leaning in across the table with a wicked smile surprising Kviye with the realization that his face could, in fact, move. ¡°If that tickles your fancy.¡±


    Kviye stared back at him dumbly. Something the Captain must have found amusing because he chuckled and said, ¡°Yes, certainly one of the more fanciful tales. Usually, they¡¯re a bit more in the middle.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the confluence of the ethereal material that binds the whole universe together!¡± Samir said.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good one!¡± Captain Mokob said. ¡°Not sure if I¡¯ve heard of that one before.¡±


    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± Valyen mumbled.


    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t?¡± Mokob said, his look suddenly distant. ¡°We rely on them to get us to the stars, to keep us alive in the unforgiving black void of space, but we don¡¯t even know how they work. You travel the Known Reaches as much as I have, though, and you discover that there¡¯s a whole lot of ¡®ridiculousness¡¯ out there.¡±


    The rest of the dinner was far less eventful, for Kviye anyway, whose mind disappeared into the unknown Known Reaches, full of mysterious alien technology and teeming with billions of Humans going about their business. It was this last fact that troubled her most; the sheer scope of it. By all estimates, there were no more than a couple million of them on her home moon and even in her wildest dreams she thought to encounter maybe as many others or a few times more. Not thousands of times more, numbers that slipped beyond her comprehension and into the fantastical, the realm of the black spheres themselves. How much knowledge was that amount of people capable of producing? What kind of miracles could they work?


    At the end of dinner, when their guests had excused themselves and started heading towards their temporary lodgings, Kviye snuck away from helping with the dishes and sought out Samir.


    She caught up to him in the yard between the main house and the guest house, where he stood with his face to the sky in admiration of the massive quarter-dome of the gas giant that bathed them in a gentle blue light.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± She asked, following his gaze to the night sky.


    ¡°It is. It¡¯s easy to forgot how much better it all looks from the ground, but,¡± he turned to her then, his prominent brows casting his eyes in shadow, ¡°On the ground, the view never changes.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I know you¡¯ve had a long day but there¡¯s something I wanted to talk to you about that I didn¡¯t want to bring up in front of the others. Do you have a moment?¡±


    If he had been tired, Samir managed to wipe the fatigue off his face. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ?


    ¡°Let¡¯s walk,¡± she suggested.

 Book I, Chapter 7.8

    Kviye led Samir through a few deserted streets to the boardwalk. Here, some of the stores were still open, spilling their lights, smells and sounds onto the street. Kviye didn¡¯t know where to start her question and Samir seemed to be in no rush to have her get on with it. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, turning his head this way and that and taking in his surroundings. He studied the ships that docked for the night, some darkened, others with their cabin lights aglow, and others where the fishers still worked to set everything in order, barking terminology at each other that Kviye had never become familiar with. At a florist, Samir stopped to admire their fresh-cut selection ¨C yellow morning dragons and green opaleyes. She supposed if there was anything that was unique to a place it was its flora and fauna, and wondered if he would be amused by the grazing beasts of their plateaus, creatures she hardly ever thought about.


    They passed an establishment that would be open well into the late hours, music and laughter flowing freely from within. Samir peered through its windows with particular interest, as if noting its location for future reference.


    ¡°I like your town.¡± Samir said, craning his neck one last time at the pub, ¡°It reminds me a bit of where I grew up ¨C quiet and isolated.¡±


    ¡°Not as isolated as this I imagine.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°No, not quite. But there¡¯s fewer and fewer places like that in the Known Reaches. ¡®Civilization¡¯, as they call it. There¡¯s no stopping it.¡±


    Kviye turned from the boardwalk, and led them to the end of an empty pier.


    ¡°I¡¯m still having a hard time wrapping my head around how many of us there are out there.¡± Kviye said, taking a seat at the edge of the pier and staring straight ahead at the stars shimmering over the water.


    ¡°I know we don¡¯t get starships passing through here often, but no one¡¯s ever mentioned having encountered Humans before.¡±


    Samir took a seat next to her, stretching his legs out over the dark water that reflected the light from the gas giant.


    ¡°That¡¯s not surprising. Our kind is pretty new to this, so we haven¡¯t really spread all that wide from our little far-flung corner of space.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®new¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Well, other species claim they¡¯ve been travelling the stars for thousands of years, but I think we left Earth only about two hundred years ago.¡±


    Earth. That word sounded almost divine, like an ancient mother goddess who had resided nameless in the heavens but now descended, tangible and named.


    ¡°Earth,¡± Kviye whispered, just to hear it again. ¡°You said something earlier about a Great Fire?¡±


    She assumed maybe he was lost in the stars as much as she was because the question seemed to startle him.


    ¡°What? Oh, right. They say we¡¯d been to the stars before, a long time ago, but then there was a great fire, and we nearly destroyed our planet and ourselves. It took us thousands of years to get back to where we used to be. That¡¯s what I was talking about before. We started exploring again and sometimes we¡¯d find old colonies of Humans who survived all this time in isolation. I used to read stories like that as a kid, you know ¨C somebody finding a lost tribe of Humans who went back to their primitive wild ways.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°We¡¯re only a little bit primitive.¡±


    He laughed again at that, a thing that came out of his mouth freely and breezily, and turned to look at her, though her eyes were only for the stars.


    ¡°You wanted to ask me about something specific, didn¡¯t you?¡± He asked.


    She did. But she was also treading on the possibility of hope being dashed and it was difficult to cross the threshold.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of something called ¡®the grey¡¯¡±? She asked.


    ¡°Uh, you mean like the colour?¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± The words came dry from her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a disease that effects our people.¡±


    She could feel him tense up next to her, make the slightest move to put some distance between them.


    ¡°Sorry, no, it¡¯s nothing like that,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not contagious, in that sense, but it has been killing my people more and more recently. Our loved ones waste away before our eyes as their skin turns grey, and then they¡¯re gone. Does that sound familiar to you?¡±


    He seemed to relax, but there was a new note of sheepishness in his voice. ¡°Can¡¯t say that it does. But I¡¯m no expert in medicines. All I know is that there¡¯s all kinds of doctors out there, Human and alien, and they can work all sorts of miracles you and I wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    Kviye could see it clearly enough ¨C walking into a hospital on this ¡°Earth¡± and describing the symptoms to a doctor who, after laughing about the simplicity of these savages, hands her a small vile of salvation which she then delivers to her people across the stars.


    ¡°You want to be out there, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She asked, crossing lightyears to come back from her daydream.


    ¡°You have that look. I¡¯ve seen enough friends in the months before they jump on some random passing freighter to recognize it. I probably had the same one leading up to grabbing that job on Nkagan. So what about you? Dreaming of getting off this rock?¡±


    She made a dismissive sound that somewhat resembled laughter. ¡°You know, I dreamt about it all my life. To get out there and find others like us. But now it all just seems too big.¡±


    ¡°That it is. No matter how much you think you understand, you really don¡¯t get it until you¡¯re out there ¨C how endless it is. But that¡¯s the best part, because nothing beats that kind of freedom. I thought I had it when I moved to Nkagan, but on the Oshken, it¡¯s something else. You should join us.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She asked, startled at her own thoughts being projected onto his words.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious. We¡¯re a little shorthanded and I¡¯ve seen you on the ship today, you seem to know your way around the mechanical stuff.¡±


    ¡°Me? No. I¡¯ve only really ever worked on one ship, and it went to space once. Valyen¡¯s the real mechanic.¡±


    ¡°The pale one? Sure, there¡¯s room for her too.¡±


    Kviye burst out laughing and had to stop herself after seeing Samir¡¯s quizzical look. ¡°Sorry, the thought of Val on a starship is just ¡­¡±


    ¡°Well think about,¡± he said, that crooked smile returning to his face. ¡°You¡¯ve got a few days.¡±


    ?


    ¡°I will,¡± she said. ¡°I will definitely think about it.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.9

    Kviye walked Samir back down a boardwalk that thinned out somewhat, both in terms of pedestrians and the shops that remained open, and judging by the noise coming from the tavern, it seemed that they had all funneled there instead. On their way back to Valyen¡¯s home, Samir shared stories of the space stations he¡¯d visited, mostly Human and Winti though their intention was to reach the borders of the Adaract Hive before heading to Iastret and Mraboran space, perhaps all the way to the Thorian Empire itself. The names meant little to her, shiny distractions as she planned conversations she wasn¡¯t sure how to have.


    They parted when they reached the garage ¨C Samir returned to the guest house while she inserted herself into the remnants of the evening clean-up in the kitchen as if she¡¯d never left, silently grabbing a pot from Kviye¡¯s mom and scrubbing it. She was certain her absence was noted, but not even Valyen had bothered to comment on it.


    Well after the whole house had gone dark and quiet, Kviye lay in Valyen¡¯s bed with her eyes opened, promises from the whole galaxy whispering in her ear.


    Her friend insisted that as a guest, Kviye would have the bed and Valyen would have the thin mattress on the floor, and when Valyen was in that kind of mood there was no fighting it. So for the sake of not having to hear Valyen sulk in her own bed refusing to sleep, Kviye acquiesced, though now it was her who was unable to fall asleep, and not for a lack of trying.


    ¡°Seriously Kvee, I can¡¯t sleep with you thinking this loud,¡± Valyen grumbled in the dark.


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll try to keep it down.¡± Was she breathing too hard? Or sighing unintentionally? In any case, Kviye had no interest in making this Valyen¡¯s burden, so she turned on her side and tried to keep her breath low as she went through the possibilities in her head, all the ways her life could go if she went through with the decision she had already made ¨C watching her father struggle to find work, leaving him for months or possibly years, finding her way out there without him, without Valyen, without Adri. And the stars, always the stars in the background promising a thousand different worlds to see.


    ¡°I can still hear you, you know?¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Kviye sat up in bed looking in the direction of the lump on the floor, hardly visible in the reflected planet-light streaming through the window.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, just do,¡± the lump grumbled back and then reluctantly unfurled and also sat up. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking what I think you¡¯re thinking, are you?¡±


    ¡°Samir said there¡¯s space for me on the Oshken.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    Kviye didn¡¯t mean to leave her friend in silence. She had been looking for a response ¨C the right mix of lightness, earnestness and apology. Instead, it was Valyen who had to break the silence.


    ¡°Do I need to break your other leg?¡± She asked with a sigh of resignation.


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    ¡°You might have to.¡±


    It was Valyen¡¯s turn to soak them in quiet as she stared off into some indeterminate point in the darkness of her room.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± Kviye whispered.


    ¡°Me being anything won¡¯t make a bit of difference, will it? You¡¯re gone either way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair. You make it sound like it¡¯s just about leaving.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it, Kvee?¡±


    She had for Valyen only part of an answer. Samir couldn¡¯t make any promises and neither would Kviye, nor would she feed Valyen¡¯s hopes just to justify her own burning desire to leave behind everything she knew and everyone she loved.


    ¡°You heard Captain Mokob,¡± Kviye said. ¡°He was able to buy the Oshken with the money he made comet chasing, and I don¡¯t need anything that big. Just something to replace the skiff, maybe connect our moon to our closest neighbours. Who knows the kind of things they might have that we would find helpful.¡± If Valyen didn¡¯t hear it then, then she wasn¡¯t ready for it.


    ¡°Kviye, these comet chasers are all about tall tales and talking themselves up, they¡¯re worse than the fishers. And besides, I¡¯m sure your dad will be the first to tell you that this is a ridiculous idea.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure my dad will be the first to tell me anything. I don¡¯t know if you noticed but we¡¯ve barely talked since the crash. He¡¯ll say ¡®good morning¡¯ and ¡®good night¡¯ but other than that, any conversation we have is just listening to each other talk to other people at the dinner table.¡±


    ¡°He still loves you. The crash didn¡¯t change that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡¯ about the only thing it hasn¡¯t changed.¡± Kviye sat looking out the window; there was a light on in a window of the guest house and the pale storm on the surface of the gas giant was visible just above the top of the building. ¡°If I could make enough to get another ship, things could go back to normal. I would be flying, and he would have something to do. And we could forget the crash ever happened.¡±


    Kviye knew though that the crash would never allow itself to be forgotten. On clear days when she looked up into the sky, it would transform into the fast-approaching ground and the wound in her leg would groan. Or when she¡¯d sit alone in the dark, she could hear the wind and the rain and a voice calling her name from a distance, first her mother¡¯s and then Valyen¡¯s.


    She wondered if Valyen was experiencing the same thing from her own perspective ¨C entangled in the memories of the skiff streaking white across the sky, coming down somewhere behind the hills that encircled Zhakitrinbur.


    After a long while, Valyen said, ¡°Kvee, I want you to know, that no matter what I may¡¯ve said, whatever you decide, I¡¯ll be there.¡± She finally looked at Kviye then, her eyes pale and determined. ¡°Do you understand?¡±


    ?


    She didn¡¯t then, as Kviye would later realize, but she agreed anyway. ¡°I understand. Thank you.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.10

    The next day, Kviye was back on the Oshken, working alongside Valyen to get the ship ready to chase down its next quarry. Uncle Dekan had also been called down to assist, and on account of it being one of his good days, so had Adri. For Kviye, it was all different this time. Work during the previous day felt just like what it was ¨C a job. Now, it had become more intimate. Until this point she couldn¡¯t imagine becoming as familiar with another ship as she had been with the family skiff that she destroyed. Every open conduit, every inch of hull, every piece of temperamental equipment; she realized that what she was doing was potentially exploring the inner workings of her new home, a realization that more than once sent waves of nausea through her, and she was glad when the day was done.


    The work led them into the next week, which gave Kviye the phantom impression that it could last indefinitely, forever postponing her need to make a final decision.


    ¡°So did you think about what I said?¡± Samir, who had until then given her distance and not once brought up their earlier conversation, asked as he joined her in descending the ramp in the darkness of the evening.


    She had. She had thought about nothing else the whole day to the point that her and Valyen hardly exchanged any words that didn¡¯t directly relate to what they¡¯d been working on.


    ¡°I guess,¡± Kviye answered with a shrug, not meeting his gaze.


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s a lot to think about.¡±


    He laughed quietly almost to himself. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Samir stopped walking, which forced Kviye to stop as well and turn to face him.


    ¡°All I¡¯m saying is,¡± Samir said. ¡°If you knew what you were missing, you¡¯d realize that there isn¡¯t much to think about at all.¡± And before she could answer, he walked ahead of her, throwing up one hand to wave goodnight and heading for the guest house.


    Despite the exhaustion from consecutive days of hard work, it made it no easier for her to fall asleep at night. There were so many conversations she would still need to have, but in what order, and what of the fact that she wasn¡¯t sure if she was ready to pull the trigger? It didn¡¯t help that Valyen had not yet turned in for the evening, her place on the floor conspicuously empty. They should not have been spending potentially their last days together apart. This also went for the many of the others under that roof but in Valyen¡¯s case, it particularly twisted Kviye¡¯s heart to wonder where her friend may have been away so late.


    Sometime past midnight, it was the hunger that got the best of her, so Kviye got out of bed and made her way downstairs. She found a light streaking out of the kitchen door, unusual for the Morozo household at this hour, and inside she found Valyen, and her mother and uncle huddled at the table deep in conversation. They hadn¡¯t noticed Kviye until she made a few steps into the kitchen.


    It was Valyen that had best managed to act as if there was nothing going on out of the ordinary, like she¡¯d just looked up from welding or tightening a bolt. Her mother and uncle on the other hand, looked startled, eyes a little too wide and mouths slightly open, unmistakable siblings.


    ¡°Oh, Kviye honey, why aren¡¯t you sleeping?¡± Valyen¡¯s mom asked, folding her arms across the table.


    ¡°Sorry, I was hungry.¡±


    ¡°No need to apologize. There¡¯s plenty of leftovers in the fridge.¡±


    Whatever the conversation was before she arrived, it had not resumed while Kviye was there. On her way to the fridge, she had the feeling that all eyes were on her as they sat in complete silence, save for the frequent forced sniffling coming from Uncle Dekan, as if the man didn¡¯t know what to do with his face in the meantime. Kviye originally intended to eat there but now thought it best to taker her plate upstairs.


    ¡°Goodnight, honey,¡± Valyen¡¯s mom called after her, while her daughter kept quiet, her mouth in a hard line, looking just off to Kviye¡¯s side and Kviye noticed that the bottle of Grandma Morozo¡¯s special drink stood un-stoppered on the table between them. Just as Kviye left the kitchen to head back up the stairs, she heard Valyen call from behind her, ¡°I¡¯ll be right there.¡±


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    By the time Kviye was back in her room, her appetite had faded and she put the plate aside and went to bed. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, one way or another.


    The following day, they were well on their way to completing the work on the Oshken. There had been a large gash in their hull that forced them to decompress a part of their cargo hold. This is what Kviye had been working on, repairing the severed connections on the interior part of the hole when Captain Mokob found her.


    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± He asked, putting his hands behind his back and holding his head up high as only the proud Captain of a veritable hunk of junk could.


    ¡°About?¡±


    ¡°Well, all this,¡± the Captain gestured expansively, speaking as if the question were the most obvious one in the world. ¡®All this¡¯ to Kviye looked like the Oshken bit off the business end of a rock slide and had a difficult time digesting it.


    ¡°What is it?¡± She asked, climbing down the ladder.


    ¡°It¡¯s our latest score! We hadn¡¯t had a chance to process it because of the decompression but from what we can tell there¡¯s a few goodies in here.¡± He walked slowly between the rubble strewn about the floor of the cargo hold, passing his hands over some of the boulders. ¡°We¡¯ve detected diamonds. Not terribly rare, but useful in industry, and with these amounts, should fetch us a decent sum.¡± He tapped on an iridescent yellow sliver on one of the rocks. ¡°This is anstakite. Purely decorative, but highly sought after. If these flakes are any indication, there should be more inside.¡±


    ¡°Are there any of those ¡­¡±


    ¡°Drops? No, not in this load, I¡¯m afraid.¡± She had known that though, if there were, she would have felt them. ¡°We are chasing down a lead out here near the Adaract Hive that might just pan out. And hey if not, there¡¯s a whole lot of Known Reaches left to explore, all the way to the Thorian Empire, if we have to.¡±


    ¡°Are you planning on heading to any Human worlds?¡±


    ¡°Sure, why not. We¡¯re not far from Human space in any case. That¡¯s the best part about being a comet chaser, we can go anywhere we damn please.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, distractedly looking at the speckled boulder, each dot a star around which a cure could be revolving.


    ¡°I heard that Samir told you about our opening. What do you think? Ready to chase the ice-tailed beasts with us?¡±


    ¡°You mean you would actually take me?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Captain Mokob walked past her, hands still behind his back and she noted that her head didn¡¯t even reach his shoulder. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t we?¡± He stopped to look up at the section of wall that Kviye had been working on.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯ve never even left Tanfana before.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± He turned around again, surprisingly agile for such a cumbersome beast, though the Wintis in general looked almost frail due to their lankiness. ¡°I can hardly see why that should matter. All you need is the drive and the ability to figure out how to make yourself useful around the ship. And it looks like you won¡¯t have any problems with that last part. The question is then, do you have the drive?¡±


    She looked up into the Winti¡¯s big dark eyes that stared back at her with some form of amusement. ¡°I do. It¡¯s just not that easy to leave.¡±


    For a moment, those eyes turned distant and melancholy. ¡°We¡¯ve all been there, I can promise you that.¡± And after a pause, the previous jovialness returned to Captain Mokob¡¯s face. ¡°You have some more time to decide, though if things go well from now on, we should be taking off tomorrow afternoon. I hope to see you here again, Hon Kviye.¡±


    With that, the Winti Captain strode out of the cargo area, ducking his head through the door. Tomorrow afternoon. It was far too soon.


    ¡°Captain!¡± She called and Mokob poked his head back through the door. ¡°May I see your drop?¡±


    ?


    Captain Mokob was quiet for a moment, a cautious expression on his face, as if he was looking for far-off danger. ¡°Sure, come this way.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 7.11

    Kviye followed Captain Mokob up to the engine room which was located in the upper back of the ship. A platform opened up to a space about two stories high, wide across but otherwise only a couple of metres from the railing to the wall, with the engine array taking up the whole back wall and curving up into the ceiling.


    ¡°Laubraz, do you mind showing Kviye here our drop?¡± Captain Mokob called as he leaned with his hands on the railing at the top of the platform. Laubraz was the Oshken¡¯s chief engineer, a Mraboran with fur the colour of Tanfana¡¯s reddish soil, who kept most of her tools attached to the leather straps that formed her clothing, so she clattered and clanged anytime she moved.


    ¡°Sure, come on down,¡± Laubraz motioned for Kviye to descend down the ladder.


    Kviye had met Laubraz several times before, but she was still in awe in the presence of the alien. Covered almost entirely in fur, only the palms of her powerful hands and the soles of her feet were covered in rough padded skin. Her large tapered ears could move anywhere from being open and forward-facing to being tucked back flush against her skull. And while her mouth revealed itself to be undeniably carnivorous, especially when she laughed, there was a warmness to the large golden eyes that sat on her somewhat triangular face.


    Within the mess of jutting pipes and wires that Kviye was convinced only Laubraz could understand, the engineer located the chamber that held their black sphere and opened it. Here, the sphere was held pressed into clear conductive gel sandwiched between transparent panels. Kviye always marveled at the fact that it didn¡¯t seem that any two setups were identical. It was a small drop, hardly bigger than the one she¡¯d used for her failed space flight, with a ragged worn aura.


    ¡°I hear this one had quite an history before coming here.¡± Laubraz¡¯s Trade Thorian was quite accented, some of the sounds coming off as purring, which made it more difficult but not impossible for Kviye to understand her. ¡°Most recently from terraforming equipment, then before that a pirate hunter, and all the way to the core of a Thorian capital ship dating back as far as the days of the Thorian Civil War.¡±


    This was true. How she came to know this, Kviye couldn¡¯t say, but she also felt something deeper, connections to an ancient presence that somehow touched her through the dark sphere.


    ¡°Thank you, Laubraz, I needed that.¡± The Oshken¡¯s chief enginner shrugged and gave a small smile before sealing up the chamber. ¡°Captain,¡± Kviye called up to Mokob, who watched her as he leaned on the railing. ¡°I¡¯ll have my answer for you tonight.¡±


    That evening, Kviye was glad that Valyen was off having her clandestine conversations or whatever she had been up to with her family, which allowed Kviye to have her room all to herself. Kviye had been pacing for over an hour before she accepted that she would never be fully ready to have this discussion. None of her practiced openings felt right. Every time she imagined her father¡¯s face, she could see the unreachable expression he wore in the months before and after her mother¡¯s death. She had already watched him say goodbye to someone he loved once. She never thought she¡¯d have to watch him say goodbye to her.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Waiting though, out of fear or compassion, was serving neither of them.


    She found her father where she expected ¨C in the guest bedroom, a space hardly big enough for a bed and an armchair, where he sat reading a book by the lamplight.


    ¡°Dad,¡± she asked, still lingering in the doorway, her arm resting on the frame, ¡°Can we talk?¡±


    Kviye¡¯s father regarded her from where he sat and then lowered his book with a heavy sigh. ¡°Is this something that really needs a discussion?¡±


    ¡°Dad?¡± Kviye asked, lowering her arm.


    Another heavy sigh, depositing itself as a rock atop of Kviye¡¯s chest.


    ¡°I can¡¯t have been the only one who knew this conversation was coming. Truth is, Kviye, you¡¯d already left me, you just haven¡¯t had a chance to make it final yet.¡±


    That had explained the silence between them the last few months. He hadn¡¯t been angry; to him, she had simply never come back.


    ¡°I¡¯m not mad, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about,¡± he said, as if reading her mind. ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯m not going to stand in the way of you getting out there and finding out who you are or where you belong.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡± Kviye¡¯s throat tightened and a burning entered her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s not why I want to go.¡±


    ¡°No, Kviye, it is.¡± Her father looked and sounded exhausted, the wrinkles around his frowning mouth and forehead exaggerating his age, and his eyes shone with his own welling tears in the light of his desk lamp. ¡°Whatever other reasons you might think you have are just convenient excuses.¡±


    She recognized that voice then, knew when it was the last time she heard her farther talk so softly and distantly.


    ¡°It¡¯s just like with mom,¡± she said, her voice catching slightly, ¡°You buried her before she even died and you left me alone.¡±


    If that hurt him, he didn¡¯t show it and instead said, ¡°Both you and your mother flew too high for me, and now you¡¯re both going to leave me behind.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about you, dad. Not with mom certainly, and not with me either.¡±


    ¡°Please, Kviye,¡± there was a pleading tone in his voice and his fingers wrapped determinedly around the book as if he was about to pick it up whether she was still there or not, ¡°Don¡¯t make this any harder than it needs to be.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then,¡± she took a few deep breaths, but no other words came. ¡°Goodbye, dad.¡±


    Like she expected, up the book went, and no more words were spoken between them.


    Back in Valyen¡¯s room, Kviye lamented the fact that this was not her room, or at least, not her space in the annex building. Had it been, there would have been a few things that were tossed across the room with much gusto. So she had to content herself with screaming into her pillow until her voice grew hoarse and she was ready to pass out for the night.


    There was one other goodbye she owed, one that, before her failed space flight, would have likely been satisfied by a few kind words and a hug, and now she¡¯d gone and complicated things. In order to know how to say goodbye, she would have had to know what they were, something they¡¯d not quite figured out over the last few months. And her conversation with her father made her just want to crawl into the Oshken¡¯s cargo hold early in the morning and have them all figure out what happened by the time she was already on the other side of the gas giant. This, however, was not something she was willing to do to Valyen.

 Book I, Chapter 7.12

    In the morning, although she hadn¡¯t given her decision to anyone, not even Captain Mokob, they were all treating her as though she was good as gone. The conversation around the breakfast table was subdued, and she knew it wasn¡¯t because they were going to miss their guests of the last few days. Even Adri, who would normally try to catch her attention with a shy smile, kept his eyes mostly on his plate.


    The notable absence at the table was her father, but Valyen¡¯s mother took it upon herself to share some stories about Kviye like it was some kind of living wake.


    ¡°I remember when your family first relocated to Zhakitrinbur for the stormy season. I guess it¡¯s been nearly eighteen years now. You were three and Valyen was six and you insisted on following her everywhere to the point where she had to push you out of the bathroom anytime she needed to go. She goes up to me one day and say ¡®Mom, we need to do something about Kvee. Maybe sell her to some fishers.¡¯ I nearly died trying not to laugh but then I put my serious face on and said, ¡®Val, don¡¯t be ridiculous. This is what true friendship looks like. You find something like this, and you must never ever let it go.¡¯ And that¡¯s what you¡¯ve been since, pretty much inseparable.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± Valyen said with a cheek-full of food.


    After breakfast, Kviye caught up with Adri.


    ¡°Hey, sorry, just so you know, I didn¡¯t tell anyone anything but they¡¯ve been treating me like I have anyway.¡±


    ¡°So, are you leaving?¡±


    There was no accusation in his voice, no anger or even disappointment; this more than anything is what caught her off guard.


    ¡°Yes, I am.¡± Her heart skipped a few beats and she had to look off to her side. ¡°Oh, that was really weird to actually say out loud. But hey, this isn¡¯t a forever thing,¡± she said, her eyes back on him. ¡°It¡¯s only until we get back on our feet, when I have enough for my own ship and can come and go freely. Maybe I can take you with me.¡±


    ¡°You know where to find me.¡±


    She could see it around his eyes ¨C it was not one of his good days and yet he still joined them for her last breakfast on Tanfana. She pulled him into an embrace then, holding him tight against her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you again. I promise,¡± she said, and all Adri could do, was to pat her on the back.


    The few hours it took to get the Oshken all tested for launch, with the windows of the house vibrating at the roar of its engines, were the longest of Kviye¡¯s life. She wondered, more than once, how she was supposed to spend months aboard a starship when only a few hours in Valyen¡¯s room suffocated her to the point that she wanted to exit out the window. Still, when the ship was all prepared, she¡¯d come down with her single bag, ready to start anew.


    In the kitchen, she found Valyen¡¯s mom and Grandma Morozo. When Kviye leaned in or a hug, the old woman said, ¡°Make sure to say hello to my Mitya for me.¡±


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    ¡°Ma!¡± Valyen¡¯s mom gasped. ¡°She¡¯s going to space, not dying.¡±


    ¡°Bah! We always say they go somewhere out there when they die,¡± Grandma Morozo made a vague waving motion over her head, ¡°Who¡¯s to say that our Kviye here won¡¯t bump into him, you know, ¡®out there¡¯?¡±


    Kviye let out a small laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to give him your best.¡±


    ¡°Ha! He doesn¡¯t deserve my best. You make sure he knows that.¡±


    Valyen¡¯s mom walked Kviye outside, and thrust a heavy bundle into her hands as she put her hand on Kviye¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Now, we made sure that the Oshken had some fresh stock, but I know this one¡¯s your favourite, so it¡¯s just for you and not even ¨C¡±


    A heavy bag dropped next to Kviye and she looked away from Valyen¡¯s mom to find Valyen herself standing next to them.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Kviye asked, looking down at the bag.


    ¡°My travel bag,¡± Valyen said gruffly. ¡°You got one too, so I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re so confused.¡±


    ¡°Val?¡± Kviye managed, her voice so faint even she hardly heard it.


    ¡°Look, I said, ¡®whatever you choose, I¡¯ll be there¡¯. You chose, I¡¯m here.¡±


    Some of her last breaths of fresh atmosphere, and Kviye could hardly breathe from her tight throat. She dropped her bag and enveloped Valyen in a squeeze.


    ¡°C¡¯mon Kvee, let¡¯s not start by embarrassing ourselves in front of our new crew.¡± Valyen¡¯s wanted to sound aloof, but Kviye could clearly hear Valyen¡¯s own voice was breaking. Kviye looked behind her and found Captain Mokob and Samir standing near the entrance of the Oshken. Then she turned to Kviye¡¯s mom and mouthed ¡°thank you¡±, knowing that attempting to speak directly to her would have only ended one way.


    ¡°You take care of each other, okay?¡± Valyen¡¯s mom said to Kviye before saying her goodbyes to her own daughter as Kviye watched them from the base of the ramp. Uncle Dekan was there, looking morose. Adri hung back towards the entrance and out of earshot. And if Kviye looked hard, she could even make out Grandma Morozo through the window, watching intently, even on days where there was nothing to watch.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be here,¡± Valyen said, rejoining Kviye by her side, her bag again over her shoulder.


    ¡°No, he won¡¯t.¡± Kviye looked up into the expansive Tanfana sky, the faint outline of their paternal gas giant visible opposite the sun. ¡°He wasn¡¯t there to see my mother go and he won¡¯t see me.¡± Kviye took a deep breath. ¡°Read to go?¡±


    ¡°Ready as I¡¯ll ever be. That is to say, not at all. But I¡¯m not turning back now.¡±


    ?


    They headed up the ramp together, independently making the decision that the time for looking back was over. Captain Mokob and Samir disappeared into the ship ahead of them. Inside the comet chaser, Kviye found that its metal corridors were darker and more cramped, and their rusty orange colour colder and more foreboding. Behind the two of them, the loading door of the Oshken closed with a hiss, and wouldn¡¯t be opened again for another three months.

 Book I, Chapter 8.1

    Chapter 8


    Mikarik


    The Forseti wasn¡¯t the worst ship.


    There were worse places he could die. Acknowledging this; however, provided Mikarik little comfort while he roamed the corridors of what was already essentially his tomb. Nor was his mood elevated by the fact that he had to spend his remaining time among Humans, each of whom seemed to be their own shade of surly. It even made him wonder if he would prefer the company of the Hatvan, the only species capable of making even a Thorian question their superiority just by the power of the withering arrogant looks that comprised the Hatvan¡¯s neutral expressions.


    The Human crew of the Forseti were enough to make Mikarik count the hours down to the next stasis rotation so he could have the ship mostly to himself. Never entirely though, and less frequently than he would have liked. That was one in a litany of reasons for his dissatisfaction with the Thorian Navy ¨C too many people were always busying about.


    The week-long collective nap the Forseti was taking prior to its scheduled arrival at Yshot Station was a welcome reprieve for Mikarik from its inhabitants. The worst of the lot was their Second-in-Command, Boro Stevin, pale for a Human, with a shrewd face and dark eyes that were somehow calculating and blank at the same time, like those of a predator roaming while sniffing out prey. The man wasn¡¯t clever enough to hide that he had an angle but competent enough to hide what exactly that angle was. All this amounted to was a level of unpredictability that would do Mikarik no favours in the next phase of the mission.


    A few days after resupplying at Yshot Station, the Forseti would enter Thorian space, and it would fall to Mikarik to ensure that they threaded the needle and remained undetected as they wound their way through Imperial space. All he had to do was get them deep enough. Everything that happened from there, he preemptively washed his hands of.


    That also meant that soon some of his time would be spent on the bridge. Not only would this cut into his forays to other parts of the ship, but it would bring him into closer contact with Boro, an arrangement that didn¡¯t promise to be pleasant for either of them; however short it might end up being.


    Mikarik shook the thoughts from his mind, annoyed with himself that they kept returning to him that evening, though suspecting that it had something to do with the creeping feeling that had been following him. Every ship he¡¯d ever been on, whether military, commercial, or pirate hunter, had its own rhythm, its own breath and its own pulse. Within days of boarding, Mikarik would seep into the ship and let the ship seep into him, able to intuit if anything was wrong ¨C from an engine malfunction to a drop in morale. And that evening, something was quite clearly amiss.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Mikarik had gotten used to it by then ¨C the feeling of eyes on him, both out in the open and those not wanting to be seen. At times, he could admit, it bothered him ¨C to be walking around as a bumpy-headed embodiment of a five-thousand-year-old Empire that had long cast him to its periphery and left him likely sharing more in common with some of the Forseti¡¯s crew than most of his own species. Other times, there was something almost enjoyable about the attention he was garnering, a certain kind of power he was able to wield with his presence alone, sowing discomfort and fear as he went. For Mikarik on the Forseti, the feeling of being watched was not a fancy of a paranoid mind, but the plain reality.


    This new feeling of being ill at ease though was entirely different. There was something foul clogging up the arteries of the ship.


    When he turned a corner on the way to the galley, he thought he momentarily saw a figure up ahead. One advantage of being up during the stasis rotation was that the Forseti¡¯s lights were dimmed to a more natural level, so he had seen this shape with his own eyes instead of through the darkened lenses that were safely stowed away in his pocket.


    He¡¯d battled with space psychosis before ¨C the social creature¡¯s mind and its desperate attempt to manifest some company when it realizes it¡¯s the only sentient being in a lightyear radius. For weeks he would wait as live bait in his modified freighter for pirates to strike, battling his brain¡¯s urge to split itself apart to have lively conversations with itself. It had been, he believed, the main reason why he ultimately lost the ship he spent years saving for and then rebuilding ¨C a lack of focus at the worst possible moment.


    No, this figure near the galley wasn¡¯t psychosis. The shape was real, squat and familiar. There was, in Mikarik¡¯s estimation, plenty of good reason to turn back, to go to sleep on an empty stomach; maybe even to crawl into a stasis pod until they reached Yshot Station. There was; however, little they could do to hurt a dead man.


    When he entered the empty galley, the lights came on automatically, meant to replicate the angry glare of the harsh yellow sun of the Human homeworld. He manually put most of the lights out, turning only a dimmed spotlight at his own table. The windows around the room that normally displayed passing landscapes were off, and Mikarik kept them that way. Meeron was kind enough to have prepped some food for those who were on shift during this period of stasis. Mikarik was sure that Meeron had no intention for his meals to fall into Mikarik¡¯s hands, which made them taste that much better.


    He had taken his time getting comfortable ¨C heating the food to just the right temperature, adjusting himself in one of the more comfortable booths, pulling up the latest book he was reading on his tablet and propping it up into position at just the right angle next to his plate. It was one of those classic pieces of Thorian literature ¨C lauded by outsiders as masterfully describing true Thorian nature but which for those who lived that nature came off as dry tomes suitable only to torture schoolchildren. His first forkful had almost made it to his mouth when the doors to the galley opened and Officer Meslina walked in.


    She did not immediately walk out. That was a concern.


    Moments later, he heard the other door open and looking over his shoulder found that the Human Eframe Gonsyn and Sivian the Nabak had walked in. The Human and the Nabak stood in silence with such deliberate grimness, Mikarik had to keep himself from laughing. ¡°There¡¯s still some food left over in cold storage. So pull up some chairs?¡±


    ¡°You talk a lot, Thorian,¡± Sivian said, his voice gravelly with that distinct Nabak growl.


    ¡°Oh, Sivian, I thought we¡¯d be on a first name basis by now,¡± Mikarik said.

 Book I, Chapter 8.2

    Neither Mikarik nor Sivian, the ship¡¯s Nabak engineer, had expected or particularly enjoyed their first meeting, a week into the Forseti¡¯s journey. When he¡¯d accepted this assignment, Mikarik had expected the Humans to keep him on a short leash, practically confining him to house arrest in his quarters. So he was as surprised as the crew of the Forseti to see that he was given immediate free reign of the ship apart from the bridge. The Forseti wasn¡¯t a particularly large vessel, so there were only so many places his wanderings could take him. Towards the end of that first week, he had decided to visit the engine room and take a glimpse at the black pearl at the heart of the starship.


    While Mikarik found that most treated the ancient substance with a sense of detachment ¨C a technology forged by beings long since moved on from the Known Reaches, he had always seen something kindred in the dark spheres, an organic presence, if not a silent sentience. He had the kind of respect for them that could not be afforded to a simple machine and when he first laid eyes on the one that ran the Forseti, Mikarik realized that this particular specimen deserved a level of respect he¡¯d never given a black drop before.


    As he watched it struggle in the containment field deep in the back of the ship¡¯s engines, Mikarik could tell this one had clearly seen some things and came with a long rich history of abuse at the hands of inexperienced and careless handlers. If this was the poor drop that was supposed to power the Forseti¡¯s subspace skimmer and also to throw up the dark cloak of dispersing energy that should have kept them off Thorian sensors as they weaved their way through the Empire, then perhaps death would come sooner than expected. The engineers on duty mostly avoided him as he watched the drop strain and groan under the pressure. The only exception was a Human named Kamira Shim who said ¡°Hello¡± with a slight nod, and seemed to wonder if she should ask him what he was doing there before thinking better of it. Another one by the name of Eframe Gonsyn ignored him entirely, but with so much intention that he might as well have been shining a spotlight on Mikarik.


    ¡°If you¡¯d called earlier, I would have given you the grand tour.¡± Mikarik turned around and found Chief Engineer Aimi Ishikawa standing at the head of the engines, her expression not bothering to hide anything about how she regarded his presence there.


    ¡°Oh wait, no,¡± Ishikawa said, her one hand grasping her personal tablet while the other one motioned chaotically about her, ¡°There it is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an impressive ship,¡± Mikarik said.


    ¡°It most definitely isn¡¯t,¡± the Chief Engineer responded, approaching a panel and comparing it to something on her tablet. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to find something flattering to say, don¡¯t bother. And if you think this is representative of other ships in the Outer Rim Confederacy fleet, don¡¯t get your Thorian hopes up.¡±


    Mikarik couldn¡¯t help but smile, though Ishikawa, eyes fixated on her work, wouldn¡¯t have seen.


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    ¡°Well it certainly is an interesting ship,¡± he said.


    ¡°That, Mr. Mikarik, we can at least agree on.¡±


    ¡°¡®Mikarik¡¯ is fine.¡±


    ¡°¡®Mikarik¡¯, sure. Look, I don¡¯t know what purpose you have for this visit other than, you know, to be in my general vicinity, but we are really busy right now and ¨C¡±


    ¡°Hey Chief I think I¡¯ve figured out what¡¯s been overriding our system ¨C¡± The Nabak looked up from his tablet and stopped dead in his tracks, black eyes focused on Mikarik as sharply as his tusks.


    ¡°Gitang it,¡± Ishikawa muttered. ¡°Sivian? Why don¡¯t you take the rest of your shift off? I¡¯ll see you back here tomorrow.¡±


    Sivian didn¡¯t move and Mikarik could hear his breathing from the other side of the engines, despite their constant hum. He inclined his head slightly towards Sivian and the Chief Engineer, said ¡°It was nice meeting you,¡± and headed towards the exit. Sivian though was going to make it as inconvenient as possible, standing with his stalky wide frame in the middle of the passage. All Mikarik had to do was pass by him, say nothing, and everything would be fine. That¡¯s what he promised himself.


    Just as he was passing Sivian, trying not to make eye contact, the Nabak growled, ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Thorian? Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually have to come face-to-face with one of us?¡±


    Mikarik was tempted to tell Sivian how the Insurrection ended for him, but the truth was the person who deserted the Thorian Navy was the same person who¡¯d shot down Nabak starfighters. And even though it¡¯s been years, Mikarik still wasn¡¯t sure which of those people was the real him. His people accumulated their share of sins; to be expected from the oldest Empire in the Known Reaches. But they were not the only ones who spilled blood to achieve their goals and despite their shared emotional kinship that bound them across the aether, they were not opposed to turning that energy inward either. He could still clearly see the explosion against the clear skies of Sankoal, the wreckage of the freighter raining down into the waters of the bay. Why was he the one made to answer the call, when others had just as much to answer to and more?


    ¡°Face it, Sivian, if it had been the Hatvan instead of us, we wouldn¡¯t even be having this conversation,¡± Mikarik said, the cumulation of his frustrations amounting to nothing more than a deflection.


    ¡°What was that, Thorian?¡± A dangerous note had entered the Nabak¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Nothing, Sivian. Enjoy your day off.¡±


    ¡®Nothing¡¯ is what he should have said in the first place. Mikarik realized that later, once those first few weeks had passed and he discovered that his lashing out wasn¡¯t making life easier for anyone, including himself. Amongst Thorians, he was little more than a suspected netkarthi, a being severed from the empathic consciousness that permeated the species. Here, it was the same thing.


    They didn¡¯t see Mikarik, they saw a Thorian.


    ?


    In the galley that evening, Sivian, Eframe and Meslina came to find a Thorian, and so a Thorian he intended to be.

 Book I, Chapter 8.3

    ivian and Eframe approached Mikarik¡¯s table with such a swaggering gait he thought it would be appropriate for them to strip down to their primal vestments and swing their genitals to-and-fro as a form of intimidation. Meslina, on the other hand, was career military and moved with a slower dignity, arriving at the exact same destination beside his booth. The forkful of food, that up until then hung in the air, was finally lowered to Mikarik¡¯s plate in defeat.


    ¡°Really?¡± Mikarik sighed. ¡°Are we really doing this?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to pay for what you and your people have done,¡± Sivian said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been paying for that my whole life, who appointed you my official debt collector?¡± Mikarik asked, pushing his plate away.


    ¡°Get up!¡± Eframe snapped and slammed his open palm against Mikarik¡¯s table, though the Thorian refused to flinch and briefly glanced at the descended hand with disdain.


    ¡°What? You¡¯re not going to wait for more of your friends to show up? At least try to make it a fair fight?¡± There was no emotion in his voice other than amusement, something he hoped the others would notice as well.


    It was only then that he spotted the manual door jack by Sivian¡¯s side, a hefty metal rod about two feet in length. Mikarik eyed it skeptically for a few moments then looked up.


    ¡°So you did bring reinforcements, that should help even it out a bit, though I doubt it¡¯ll be enough.¡±


    Mikarik thought that surely that would be sufficient for them to make the first move. He counted the ways in which they could lash out, the ways in which he could stop them, use his own Thorianness to his advantage against opponents who were not familiar with his strengths and weaknesses because they were not also their own. It wasn¡¯t his first time being cornered. It wasn¡¯t the first time he had to account for the nearest exits ahead of time. But he promised that it would be the first time that he got to leave on his own terms.


    ¡°So why aren¡¯t we getting this over with?¡± Mikarik looked at Meslina, who had been silent until that moment. ¡°They¡¯re waiting for you, aren¡¯t they? What¡¯s it to you, though, Officer Meslina? Wouldn¡¯t your Captain be upset that you cost him his Thorian?¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡± She spoke with a distinct voice; quiet but with a hint of a creek, as if her patience was always on the verge of snapping.


    ¡°There we can find some common ground.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Again, this was said softly with the implied threat that it would be the last time. ¡°Nothing about your presence on this ship makes sense. You take us to the wormhole and then what? And why parade you in front of the whole crew? Why not put you into cold storage, and pull you up only when needed?¡± There was a definite note of malicious pleasure as she made that suggestion, so much so that Mikarik¡¯s forearms started to itch.


    ¡°Would that be any way to treat a guest?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a guest here, Mikarik, you know that. So why are you here?¡±


    ¡°You know why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I do.¡± Her narrow eyes, their shape accentuated by the wrinkles radiating from their outer corners, regarded him shrewdly. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone does. We¡¯re told why you¡¯re here. And we¡¯re asked to hold our noses and close our eyes, and just believe it. Maybe Captain Pueson does, I don¡¯t know. All I know is, this is our ship, and I need to protect our crew.¡±


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    ¡°No. That whole thing about protecting your crew? You¡¯re borrowing Commander Stevin¡¯s line.¡± Mikarik leaned slightly forward across the table, knowing this is the first time Officer Meslina would have had a good unobstructed look into his eyes. ¡°You lost someone. That¡¯s what this is for you.¡± For the most part, Humans were an open book, emotions exaggerated and easy to read. Not this one though, she knew how to keep her face still, her eyes stern, her thin lips pressed into a straight line with just the slightest curl at the corners of her mouth. Still he¡¯d met enough of them; not Human, but others, at far away outposts, at waystations, on freighters ¨C those who came across the business end of the Anthar Kai or the Empire itself, those whose pain yearned to manifest into something, and for whom Mikarik provided a convenient outlet.


    ¡°So who was it?¡± Mikarik asked, looking into her dark brown eyes that were hooded just slightly by their upper eyelids. ¡°A parent? Maybe a sibling.¡± Her face didn¡¯t flinch, but something was brewing behind her expression, he could tell. ¡°During the Nabak Insurrection? No, this goes deeper. The Last Gasp, most likely.¡± Meslina extended her hand and Sivian passed her the door jack. ¡°Someone you know died so that those feathered bastards could mostly maintain their borders, right?¡±


    ¡°Get up,¡± she told him almost calmly ¨C a simple command that could not be disobeyed.


    Mikarik stood and faced her. Maybe if he kept walking right past her, he¡¯d be able to leave. But who was he kidding? He knew something like this was likely to happen, and still he came.


    The fact that he had his back turned to the other two didn¡¯t deter them; a Thorian didn¡¯t warrant a fair fight. In a way, he was lucky that it was Eframe that decided to strike first. Tall for a Human and nearly Mikarik¡¯s height, he used his size wildly and telegraphed his sucker punch from such a distance that Mikarik could practically hear Eframe¡¯s fist whistling through the air. It gave Mikarik a chance to turn, and glance the hit off his forearm.


    Sivian, though shorter in stature, was in possession of four tusks, two on either side of his mouth, and he used them to his advantage by ramming his face into Mikarik¡¯s side. Mikarik grunted, likely giving Sivian no small amount of satisfaction, and though he didn¡¯t feel like the Nabak¡¯s tusks had managed to puncture him, the pain around Mikarik¡¯s ribs did provide enough distraction for Eframe to land a few good punches, causing Mikarik to retreat into a defensive stance, protecting his face with his forearms.


    ?


    Mikarik favouring his upper body gave Sivian another opening, and this time the Nabak ran into Mikarik¡¯s stomach and almost lifted him off the ground before pushing him against the table. Thankful though Mikarik was that the evolution of the Nabak had mercifully cut down their ancient weapons so that he did not wind up fully gored, Mikarik quickly discovered that there was a lot of rage packed into those short muscular Nabak arms.

 Book I, Chapter 8.4

    While the fury of Sivian¡¯s fists bore down on Mikarik, so far Officer Meslina had hung back. Whether she was just here to make sure they didn¡¯t do anything too stupid or because she wanted him softened up before she joined in, it was foolish, and she gave up the only advantage they had over him.


    Sivian was clearly getting frustrated with Mikarik¡¯s makeshift shell, the Nabak¡¯s blows landing harder all around Mikarik¡¯s arms and some getting through to the top of his head, sparks shooting in front of Mikarik¡¯s eyes whenever one landed. Through the gap in his elbow bends Mikarik could see Meslina come closer with the metal door jack, her expression cold and hard. No, apparently there had been no intention to stop any foolishness today.


    Allowing a few members of the Forseti¡¯s crew to let off some steam if it meant they¡¯d be out of his hair when the real part of his mission began was one thing. But Mikarik had no appetite for being bludgeoned into unconsciousness and launched out the airlock into some nameless star before he had a chance to complete it.


    Mikarik sensed a short gap in Sivian¡¯s constant blows. The Nabak had just raised both arms over his head for a strike when Mikarik exploded out of his semi-crouch, leading with his head and smashing into Sivian¡¯s face. The forehead bumps on a Thorian may have been an easy target of jokes, but they hid underneath a skull thicker than any sentient in the Known Reaches.


    Meslina was momentarily startled by the outburst, but then brought the rod with a vicious upward momentum towards Mikarik¡¯s chin. Just in time, Mikarik slammed his left forearm down on the approaching door jack, sending a sharp pain towards his elbow but otherwise knocking it out of Officer Meslina¡¯s hand. The forearms too, were something they shouldn¡¯t have underestimated, as Eframe would discover momentarily. The Human came at Mikarik immediately after Meslina and was met with a straight arm across his jaw, crumpling to the floor.


    Mikarik tried to make a grab for the fallen door jack but Sivian, having shaken off the previous headbutt, repeated his earlier maneuver, and jabbed his tusks into Mikarik¡¯s stomach. This time, the Thorian brought his head down, making contact with the top of Sivian¡¯s skull and causing the Nabak to drop under Mikarik¡¯s legs. The loss of balance and the follow-through that bent Mikarik forward cost him. He heard the dull thud first, and then the pain in his side from where the metal rod struck him to bring him to his knees.


    Officer Meslina wasted no time, raising the rod over her head and taking a step toward him. A step that brought her too close.


    The restraint in the tightlipped grunt of pain she let out was almost admirable. The sound her leg made when Mikarik¡¯s forearm made contact, and the fact that she immediately went down on one knee, suggested that he accomplished exactly what he set out to do, and broke a bone.


    There was relative silence in the galley now, save for the ringing in Mikarik¡¯s ears, his and Officer Meslina¡¯s laboured breathing, and the hardly audible groaning of Sivian and Eframe who were in no shape to move their heads just yet. Mikarik wondered in an oddly distant manner as to what was occurring in his body in the place that Meslina struck him. Listening intently to his pain though, he concluded that it could have been much worse. Sheepishly moving forward on his hands and knees likewise caused no additional sharp pains, which meant his ribs were likely intact. So he decided to keep going on all fours, ignoring the indignity of it, all the way out the galley. But before he undertook that journey, his big Thorian mouth needed one final workout.


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    ¡°Listen, I know you don¡¯t really care to be hearing my voice, but seeing as you don¡¯t have much choice, I¡¯m going to say it anyway.¡± He talked slowly and in a hoarse whisper, and any breaths that were too deep let themselves be known as additional jabs in his side. ¡°I think we¡¯ve all firmly established here that I¡¯m a Thorian, and nothing is going to change that fact. You want to hurt me, fine, but it¡¯s not going to hurt the Empire. Letting me do my mission, on the other hand, might actually give you a fighting chance to stand up to the Empire when it finally notices you. So how about you let me be me, even if part of that is being a Thorian, because let¡¯s face it, I¡¯m not filing these off my forehead any time soon.¡±


    Mikarik looked behind his shoulder at Meslina, who was sitting with her broken leg stretched in front of her and the other crossed underneath it, her eyes still hard, but studying him less like prey and more a curiosity. Even in this position, she was still the picture of a Navy Officer, back straight, look severe, mouth in a tight line, her pressed uniform hardly out of place, dark green with black clasps and black trim as well as three golden bands around the upper arm, and on the breast, the symbol of their species ¨C a red firebird rising up from the ashes. She chose to say nothing, which was fine by Mikarik, who at this point attempted to stand up, which was considerably worse for his pain but a significant improvement to his dignity.


    Walking out of the galley was out of the question, but hobbling out was doable, which is exactly what he did, past the sprawled bodies of Sivian and Eframe and all the way to his quarters. As far as he could tell, he was issued a standard crew cabin ¨C a fold-down bed, a wall-length ¡°window¡± into a passing landscape of one¡¯s choosing, a desk, a couple of hardy plants, and a private restroom. He wondered if the Captain¡¯s quarters had its own private stand-up shower, while the rest of them had to contend with the three found in the common area of the ship, though those stalls had on multiple occasions made him thankful for Head Engineer¡¯s Ishikawa¡¯s diligence, since these were always the first to go on board any ship.


    The shower, though, tempting as it was since it was guaranteed to be unoccupied, would have to wait. The moment he saw his bed unfold, he lay down on his back and could no longer form an intention to get up, except to shift slightly onto his side to avoid putting weight where Meslina struck him with the door jack.


    In this position, he discovered that his sleeve was wet. As he rolled it up, Mikarik¡¯s first thought was that he was bleeding and on closer inspection revised the diagnosis to ¡°had been bleeding¡±. This could wait. The exhaustion that comes in the wake of receding adrenaline crashed upon him in full force and his eyes grew heavy despite the pain. It was all fine. They had their fill; both in terms of dishing and receiving, so he¡¯d bought himself some peace.


    ?


    Even so, he realized that until that day, he¡¯d forgotten how good it felt to fight.

 Book I, Chapter 8.5

    The Forseti returned to its usual hustle and bustle a few days after Mikarik¡¯s confrontation with the two Humans and the Nabak in the ship¡¯s galley, and the next day the ship docked with Yshot Station on the edges of the Iastret Commonwealth, with the intent of being out of sight of both friend and foe alike. Mikarik spent all that time in his quarters. He figured that if he were to at least give the impression that he was off licking his wounds, it would give the rest of them some added satisfaction without any additional cost to him.


    Still, even his thick Thorian skull could only take so much abuse before he started feeling the ill effects and he was not so stubborn that he would unequivocally refuse to see a doctor. In any case, the ship¡¯s doctor, Ory Sufai, struck him as one of the more reasonable members of the Human species.


    He picked the timing for his medical visit to coincide with the docking at Yshot Station. While the transfer here wouldn¡¯t involve any crew boarding the station for time off or a change of scenery, the expectation being that they would only load the supplies necessary for the remainder of their journey and cast off as soon as possible, it should have made the maintenance crew, engineers and officers busy enough to pay little attention to Mikarik¡¯s own activities. Mikarik may not have had too much pride that he would avoid heading to the medbay entirely, but that was no reason for him to be seen doing it by anyone but the doctor, and surely Humans had similar oaths of confidentiality that the Thorians¡¯ own medical professionals took.


    It was an odd sensation, being enveloped in silence after weeks of the hum that filled the ship as it skimmed along the surface subspace. Mikarik was one of the few who¡¯d claimed that he actually felt this low vibration, a sound and feeling just above his level of perception, though a number of crewmates over the years had told him it was all in his head. Sure, everyone felt the occasional jolt when a ship was flying on sub-light thrusters. Skimming along the edge of subspace and regular space, on the other hand, was supposed to evoke nothingness ¨C the great void before there was even a universe.


    It wasn¡¯t nothing to Mikarik, though. Then again, most people also failed to perceive the moods in the drops that powered that skimmer to begin with and he wondered if this connection he experienced is what moved into the hole left by his inability to hear the mood of his own species.


    As he walked down the corridors of the Forseti towards medbay, Mikarik ran his fingers along its walls, the wood grain just out of reach of his touch, separated by a thin film of preserving plastic. He admitted that the windows were a nice touch, and surprisingly realistic for a video screen. His fellow Thorians would have likely found them tacky as any wall decorations on Thorian ships were limited to light screens meant to simulate the Thorian sun streaming in through opaque glass, while the freighters he¡¯d been on chose the ¡°metal coffin¡± aesthetic. On the Forseti, though, they were flying over some lush deep green forests, possibly on Earth, though at other times he¡¯d recognized Mrabr and the now-pristine wilderness of Vaparozh.


    When Mikarik entered the Forseti¡¯s medbay, a round open space with six private rooms radially adjacent to it, he could see Dr. Sufai through the glass window to her tiny office whose entrance was at the far right of the main room. She had been staring intently, almost angrily, at the tablet on her desk as she twirled a pen in her hand and looked up almost at the exact moment he popped his head into the medbay. The intense expression on her face melted away, replaced by a smile that seemed to go out of its way to hide her teeth.


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    ¡°Mr. Mikarik, how can I help you today?¡±


    ¡°¡®Mikarik¡¯ is fine.¡± What was it with Humans and trying to slap a label on everything? A name was a name and that should have been enough.


    ¡°Right, sorry, habit.¡± She stepped out of her office, wiped her palms on her shirt and extended her right hand in the customary Human greeting, which Mikarik returned.


    ¡°Come in, please,¡± Dr. Sufai gestured in the general direction of the patient rooms. Mikarik took a hesitant step forward as her small wave covered at least three of them. ¡°Oh, whichever one, it doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she clarified and Mikarik split the difference by choosing the middle one. ¡°Sit, please,¡± Dr. Sufai waved at the cot while she herself pulled up a small rolling stool. Mikarik lowered himself on the bed, which was soft yet somehow stern, a patient bed meant to be comfortable but also easy to clean. He could hardly remember the last time he was at a doctor¡¯s office, likely for a checkup during his last few months at the Navy, which would have put it at almost four years ago. There was something always so awkward about the process, more so when you were out of practice and even more when you couldn¡¯t just leave the doctor behind you in their office and had to co-exist with them in closed quarters for an indefinite period of time.


    ¡°So,¡± Dr. Sufai was sitting on the stool, her hands in her lap, one hand holding onto the thumb of the other one, ¡°What¡¯s troubling you?¡± It was actually a trifecta that was bothering him, but Mikarik thought he¡¯d keep to just one, which, upon later reflection, he shamefully had done to appear more gritty.


    ¡°It¡¯s my head, actually,¡± he winced, though he experienced no new pain up there.


    ¡°Really? And I¡¯d heard that Thorian skulls were practically indestructible.¡± She scooted her stool closer to him.


    ¡°¡®Practically¡¯ being the operative word here.¡± Mikarik raised his hand to pull back hair that now reached down to his brow but was normally combed back, and revealed the bruise that crept all the way up under his hairline.


    ¡°Wow.¡± Dr. Sufai leaned in closer, her right eye half-closed, and gently ran her fingers over the bruise, ¡°That¡¯s quite the disagreement you must have gotten yourself into.¡±


    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen the other guys,¡± Mikarik said with a crooked smile.


    ¡°Mmm-hmm,¡± the doctor murmured, pushing back in her chair and putting her hands on her knees, ¡°I have. How do you think I¡¯ve heard about the sturdiness of a Thorian skull?¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Mikarik wasn¡¯t sure why he was suddenly so embarrassed about the incident now that he was under the doctor¡¯s gaze, when up until a minute ago he would have worn the scuffle as a badge of pride. In any case, that smile of his was now in retreat. ¡°How is Officer Meslina¡¯s leg?¡± He asked when he found nothing else to say.


    ¡°She¡¯ll have to wear a brace for the next week, but otherwise she should heal just fine.¡±


    ¡°And the other two?¡±


    ¡°Concussions for both, but they¡¯ll also recover. I would say it was getting too lonely here before your fight, though it¡¯s never good news when I¡¯m woken up early from stasis.¡±


    ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ?


    ¡°Oh it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s what I¡¯m here for. Now lie down for me please.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 8.6

    Mikarik did as Dr. Sufai told him, stretching out the length of the patient bed, hardly realizing then how it would be far from the last time. Dr. Sufai again scooted closer on her wheeled stool and reached down below the table to pull out a glossy black arc, about the width of a hand, and after raising it over Mikarik, clipped it to the other side of the table. Mikarik stared up at his faint reflection in its smooth surface for a few moments before the arc started slowly gliding down the track in the table towards his legs, while the doctor rolled herself away to the computer display in the corner of the room.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Doctor Sufai murmured several times as the machine did its work, at its core the same kind of black droplet that powered the ship, though this one the size of a large grain of sand.


    ¡°Everything looking good?¡± Mikarik asked after a fourth such ¡°hmm¡±.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like your people exactly like sharing your detailed medical information, but as far as I can tell, your head will be just fine. There does seem to be something going on in your arm area. Mind if I take a look?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing really.¡± Mikarik hadn¡¯t come here to be scrutinized in this level of detail, but at least his back hadn¡¯t caught her eye.


    ¡°Please, for my curiosity¡¯s sake,¡± she asked, rolling into his field of vision. He agreed and she waited for the scanner to reach his toes before disconnecting the machine and letting him sit up. He didn¡¯t have to take off his shirt to reveal his arm, since in typical Thorian fashion his sleeves were buttoned up with hard dome-shaped buttons all the way past the elbow. Meanwhile, she¡¯d rolled to her desk and back, grabbing a pair of surgeon¡¯s goggles and putting them on.


    As he pulled back his sleeve, he exposed the four stubby bony structures rising out from his skin along the outer part of his forearm. Once in the not-so-distant evolutionary past, they were legitimate bony blades, several inches in length and with a significant point to them. Along with their skulls, they were once used by prehistoric Thorian ancestors to determine which of them was worthy of carrying their genes into the next generation. With the advent of Thorian collective consciousness, the point in their pre-history that Thorians considered themselves to have been elevated above all other creatures, the need to carry these specific genes lessened, and now the former deadly weapons lived on only in media entertainment set in Kai Thori¡¯s brutal past, and as remaining vestigial bone structures, which still included some tactile sensitivity, and were used to manually operate technology affixed to their arms, a set-up that in turn formed the basis of most Thorian weaponry, thus completing the full circle of their original evolutionary function.


    It was one of these bone spurs that was causing Mikarik the most grief ¨C tender to the touch and bruised purple, it continued to ooze more than just blood. He studied Dr. Sufai¡¯s slightly open-mouthed stare.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s fatal, isn¡¯t it?¡± He asked.


    ¡°What? Oh, sorry,¡± she looked up and seemed startled at how close she¡¯d gotten. ¡°Like I said, Thorian medical information isn¡¯t an easy find, so it¡¯s my first time seeing these ¡­¡±


    ¡°Taishir.¡±


    ¡°Right. May I?¡± Mikarik lifted his elbow slightly in her direction and Dr. Sufai took his arm in two gloved hands, turning it this way and that, adjusting some settings on her surgeon¡¯s goggles, presumably to increase the magnification. She pressed one finger against the tip of the affected taishir and a pain surged through Mikarik¡¯s arm and elbow and up into his neck, causing him to wince with a barely audible grunt. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± the doctor said distractedly, just as she pressed the taishir in the opposite direction causing the same sensation. ¡°Sorry,¡± she repeated, this time more earnestly and actually making eye contact.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mikarik answered, feeling more and more exposed as Dr. Sufai conducted her examination.


    ¡°These are so interesting, you know?¡±


    ¡°Never thought of them as anything more interesting than my thumbs.¡±


    ¡°Thumbs are interesting, too. But lots of us have thumbs. These ¡­ I¡¯ve seen them in anatomy books, obviously, but it¡¯s a whole other thing to see them up close.¡± Again, there was nothing comfortable for Mikarik about seeing himself as a living and breathing anatomy illustration. ¡°It¡¯s very neurologically sensitive, but I guess you know that better than I do. Yet if I remember right, they¡¯re used in combat by your ancestors.¡±


    ¡°Still are.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± She went back to the computer, pulling up an image of Mikarik¡¯s completed scan and focusing in on the damaged taishir. ¡°The connection from these taishir into your arm and your central nervous system, just from a biological perspective, it¡¯s really fascinating. It looks like this one though can be a little loose in its socket.¡±


    ¡°That sounds bad.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound good, I guess. But hard to say how bad it is.¡±


    ?


    ¡°I hear they can fall out if they get roughed up too much.¡± Mikarik was somewhat surprised at suddenly discovering this hypochondriac side to himself. He¡¯d generally been in pretty good health, and despite some of the risks he¡¯d taken over the years, tended to steer clear of injury. So maybe it was the novelty of the experience that gave him the jitters, or possibly the insurmountable distance between him and nearest Thorian doctor who actually knew what they were doing. Or even that, on the whole, he was starting to reach the age were things were no longer running at full efficiency. At his age he was at least a decade younger physically than the average comparable Human, but this was the time where he could no longer expect to be as hardy as he was at the height of his youth. It was in that moment that he decided that he generally did not like doctors.

 Book I, Chapter 8.7

    ¡°Well,¡± Dr. Sufai continued, ¡°I don¡¯t know if this particular taishir is going to fall out, but ¡­¡± she stepped out of the patient room and into the main medbay area, programming something into a machine that a few seconds later produced a medical syringe. She finished her sentence as she came back inside, ¡°but we can at least try to do what we can to make sure it doesn¡¯t. Hold still.¡± Almost painlessly the needle went into Mikarik¡¯s arm next to the taishir and after she¡¯d pulled it out, he could feel an uncomfortable cold sensation spreading up his forearm. ¡°How does that feel?¡±


    ¡°Weird,¡± he said, rubbing the area even though it had no effect on the mixed sensation of pain and numbness entangled within his arm.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have discomfort for a few hours, but you need to come back every day for the next four days so that we can prevent any infection and strengthen the muscle so it gets a tighter hold of that taishir again.¡± Mikarik had hoped to be done with the doctor indefinitely, but those tales of lost taishir meant he wasn¡¯t going to take any chances.


    ¡°Anything else you want to tell me about?¡± Dr. Sufai asked and when Mikarik looked into her eyes, he saw in them the same penetrating darkness of the medical scanner.


    ¡°There¡¯s my back ¡­ I guess.¡± He made the laziest movement to reach behind him to point out the problem but she interrupted.


    ¡°I know, I already saw it.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Just some deep bruising. There¡¯s a cream I can give you before you go. Use that topically and you¡¯ll be fine in a few days.¡± For a moment she seemed entirely too pleased with getting that out of him, but then a cloud drifted over her face. ¡°That was quite the fight you were all involved in. And as ship doctor I actually prefer when it¡¯s quiet around here.¡± Mikarik was about to shrug nonchalantly but her next question stopped him. ¡°So why did you let it get that far?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®I let it¡¯?¡± It was almost amusing to imagine what kind of twisted version of events the other three have been spreading about what went down in the galley that night.


    ¡°Well I¡¯ve read your file.¡± Her voice, which until then carried with it a breezy aloofness, had grown more serious, complemented by her dark eyebrows crowding into a furrow.


    ¡°You know, it would be really nice if someone shared with me this secret Mikarik file that¡¯s apparently the preferred choice of leisurely reading on this ship.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell them what you did after you deserted? That you fought for the Nabak?¡±


    Not for the Nabak, but for those two words ¨C blockade runner ¨C and what they meant to him.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have mattered,¡± Mikarik said, looking at his hands as he buttoned up his sleeve.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it have?¡±


    ¡°Because they weren¡¯t fighting me, they were fighting a Thorian. So what I¡¯d personally done would make no difference to them. And besides, what I did or didn¡¯t do three years ago doesn¡¯t change the fact that I still wear my Thoriannes on my sleeve.¡± He held up his arm and gave it a little shake, which failed to get a laugh or a smile out of Dr. Sufai. ¡°What I mean is, I¡¯m still Thorian. Those are still my people.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And you see yourself that way even though you fought them during the Insurrection?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true. I never fired on my people.¡± He was fully dressed by then, fully medicated except for the cream she¡¯d promised. He could have left the conversation, but found himself continuing to sit on the edge of the bed.


    ¡°What did you do then?¡±


    ¡°Got goods through siege lines.¡± The ship rose and disappeared into the clear sky, as it should have done that day until it didn¡¯t. For years the fireball had not appeared to him in his memories. And now twice in a few days. ¡°Let¡¯s just call it a family tradition.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s a whole lot more to that story.¡±


    ¡°Maybe for some other time, Dr. Sufai,¡± Mikarik said, hopping off the bed, surprised to find that he meant it more than he thought he would.


    ¡°Ah, that name still sounds weird.¡± The doctor went ahead of him to grab his other medication from the dispensary machine before he headed out.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been a doctor for long then?¡± Mikarik asked, a notch more skeptical of his treatment.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve been fully trained for almost ten years now.¡± She handed him his cream, her hands still wearing her gloves. ¡°The name just doesn¡¯t fit. My mom had always been ¡®Dr. Sufai¡¯, and anywhere but inside this office I¡¯m just Ory. So hopefully the next time we run into each other won¡¯t be here, but in the galley. You should sit with Aimi and me.¡±


    ¡°Not sure if Chief Ishikawa would be too pleased with that.¡±


    ¡°Oh you¡¯d be surprised how much she ¨C¡±


    There was a crack of dulled thunder that reached them through the walls of the medbay and in the next moment the ship lurched, sending Mikarik forward, bracing against the wall with his hurting arm, while Dr. Sufai was knocked backwards, hitting her head on a wall and almost falling to the floor but catching herself.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Mikarik asked, offering his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she answered and ignored his gesture. In the glow of the red lights that now flashed along the seem between the wall and the ceiling, gone was the warm friendly demeaner that was there moments earlier, her face now showing the same kind of edge as the sirens that blared throughout the ship.


    ¡°We¡¯re moving already,¡± he observed; early, by his estimates.


    ¡°I know.¡± Dr. Sufai peeled off her gloves and dumped them in a receptacle before picking up a new pair and pulling them on. The intercom sounded and Mikarik tapped it for her.


    ¡°Dr. Sufai, this is Officer Meslina.¡±


    ¡°Sufai here.¡±


    ?


    ¡°Doctor ¡­ you have incoming.¡±

 Book I, Chapter 9.1

    Chapter 9


    Hilosh


    Yarmar told him told to sleep; told him that he wasn¡¯t doing anyone any favours by dwelling on the ship that was floating silently above him. Hilosh knew she was right and even went so far as to listen to her. He would close the curtains in his office, crawl into the recessed cot underneath the overhanging shelf, roll up into three layers of blankets to keep the cold out, and stay awake for hours, thinking of nothing but the Raire.


    The Anthar Kai supply vessel had sent out no more communications since the last transmission that consisted of mostly a lone voice repeating ¡°Why am I?¡± in Native Thorian before cutting out. The ship arrived on schedule a day later and its automated systems allowed it to dock with the transfer station orbiting the inhospitable rock that was home to their mining operation and the almost sixty crew that worked there. It had now been there five days, without a single sign of life coming from the ship.


    The mining crew knew that something was wrong when the deadline towards which they were pushing had come and gone and there was no word on how well they did against their quotas. What was worse, five days later there was still no word on food rations or increasing the temperature in the barracks, and their dinners were now a far cry from the breakfast that had fueled their labour spree a week earlier. That night, they had to bunk two to a bed to use body heat to fight against the further reduction in heat.


    Yarmar estimated that they could last another month, maybe even two if they stretched a handful of the crew past their breaking point. Hilosh was not a fan of her grim math, which she simply dismissed as realistic. Unfortunately, what could not be factored into her math, realistic or otherwise, was the arrival of the next supply ship, as none had declared their mining world on their scheduled route yet.


    On the second day after the Raire¡¯s docking with the transfer station, Hilosh, Yarmar and Charosar took the shuttle up to get a closer look at the supply ship. It was a typical long-haul freighter ¨C a great bulbous body attached to a smaller command centre at the front, all properly docked at the transfer station with no visible signs of damage or anything out of the ordinary.


    When the three Vaparozh docked with the station, they discovered it empty, the path to the Anthar Kai ship never having been opened. They banged on the doors of the Raire and heard no response back; tried to beam a message directly with a personal tablet and were met with similar silence. For a moment, Hilosh did think that he heard something, a distant scratching sound, though after a while the other two decided it was likely an auditory hallucination brought on by wishful thinking and they called it a day. Walking back to the shuttle, through the fruits of their labour stacked high and ready to load onto the supply ship that would have delivered the product a step closer to its final destination, they dragged their feet as if carrying the silence like sackfuls of ore.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The trip was not entirely a waste. As the shuttle descended towards the silvery cloud cover, Hilosh craned his neck to see the light of the sun one last time. It may have been a dim affair, this being the fourth planet in the system, but it was starlight after all.


    They didn¡¯t speak the whole flight back, even as the shuttle landed on the platform adjacent to the mining operation, as if the deathly silence from the Raire had wormed its way into their own heads and they brought it down to the surface. There was a tunnel that led straight from the landing pad to the barracks, one that docked against the shuttle¡¯s exit ramp, to allow for passage without the need to put on atmospheric gear. Hilosh and Yarmar let Charosar go ahead of them and hung back at the shuttle.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to talk the moment she gets back,¡± Yarmar said as she stood leaning with an arm against the door of the shuttle, watching Charosar disappear down the passageway.


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± Hilosh answered and reached with both hands behind his head to massage the mass of flesh that rested there. ¡°They¡¯re going to want to know what happened to the ship.¡±


    ¡°And we know about as much as they do. So what are we going to say to them?¡±


    ¡°What can we say?¡± Hilosh walked by Yarmar down the ramp and the co-supervisor followed behind.


    ¡°We tell them to keep working,¡± Yarmar suggested and Hilosh glanced over his shoulder at her. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of storage space left on the transfer station, and another ship will be by at some point. That way we can be ready and keep them occupied enough to keep their mind off things.¡±


    ¡°It might be another month before the next supply ship gets here. How will we feed the crew if we keep them working?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure whatever we can salvage from the Raire will be more than enough.¡±


    Hilosh stopped, his hand frozen midway through setting the shuttle ramp to close up again, and stared at his co-supervisor. There were all sorts of death wishes rolled into this scenario, but the one that came to him most prominently had a Thorian face on it.


    ¡°Yarmar, it¡¯s bad enough we already have a dead Anthar Kai ship docked overhead that we can¡¯t account for. Now you want to break into it as well? That¡¯s how you get the Shoaman Kai here before we can even blink twice.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she said, her voice even, ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll also bring supplies.¡±


    Hilosh wanted nothing to do with the Raire. If it was up to him, he¡¯d have the transfer station undock itself and give the Anthar Kai vessel a good shove towards the star, then pretend it was never here. In the end, he struck a compromise with Yarmar. They would have the crew work half shifts for five days, and if at the end of that time nothing had changed with the Raire, and the next supply ship wasn¡¯t yet scheduled to arrive within an acceptable time frame, they were going to board the ship.


    ?


    And now that day had come.

 Book I, Chapter 9.2

    The preparations for their return trip to the Raire passed with little fanfare and involved the same three individuals that had gone up to check on the transfer station earlier ¨C Hilosh, Yarmar and Charosar ¨C to match the number of environmental suits available on the shuttle. As for the rest of the crew, the departure time was chosen to coincide with when they¡¯d already be retiring to their barracks, unaware of the shuttle¡¯s liftoff, Yarmar and Hilosh figuring that no hopes can be dashed if they weren¡¯t made to begin with.


    The only thing that was truly different about this flight versus the one five days prior was the neural devastator gun they brought with them and whose presence was so heavy that it sat like a fourth passenger between Hilosh and Charosar on their ascent, as Yarmar had the controls of the shuttle.


    ¡°Have you ever used one of these things?¡± Hilosh asked, deciding to break the silence since the neural devastator didn¡¯t seem to be interested in doing it.


    ¡°No,¡± Charosar answered, her hands clasped at her lap and eyes fixed intently on the weapon, ¡°Been too close to one when it was though.¡± She leaned in and looked up at Hilosh. ¡°On Rosha Chot¡¯hagh.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Hilosh straightened up, his hands stiff at his sides. ¡°You were there when ¨C¡±


    ¡°When the Shoaman Kai moved in? Yeah. Five hundred years we¡¯ve had it, as far back as the Exodus. I¡¯d grown up on neighbouring Dayuna, where my family moved from the homeworld around that same time.¡±


    ¡°Mine too, moved early in the Exodus far too close to Thorian space.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it. We on Dayuna used Rosha Chot¡¯hagh as a supply world all that time. So many of my family worked there over the centuries. Funny how you always think that whatever was there when you were born seems eternal. An easy assumption to make about something that¡¯d been around for half a millennium. Especially since even though we¡¯d officially become part of the Empire after the Last Gasp, they didn¡¯t seem all that interested in us.¡±


    ¡°So what suddenly happened?¡± Hilosh asked. He¡¯d been stationed on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh early in his career, still had some former colleagues on there when it all went down.


    ¡°Who knows with Thorians?¡± Charosar said and let out a joyless chuckle. ¡°Someone somewhere decided there needed to be more of them. We were just unlucky. Anthar Kai started shipping them onto Dayuna in droves. In one of her letters, my mom said that half her street had been relocated and replaced with them. Our new co-supervisors were both Thorian-educated Vaparozh who chose not to tell us that most of our shipments were now being directed to the Anthar Kai network instead of Dayuna and other nearby systems. They knew damn well we wouldn¡¯t work as hard if we were feeding those bumpy headed sleaze balls, but we found out anyway, and acted accordingly.¡±


    Hilosh wanted to say something but found his throat tight. He¡¯d heard the rumours; it was only ever rumours when it came to the Shoaman Kai, the military enforcement branch of the Anthar Kai, the Thorian corporation that was responsible for running the fringes of its Empire.


    ¡°Our cowardly co-supervisors called it in. Couldn¡¯t have been the Thorians since they prefer not to get their hands dirty when they can and didn¡¯t actually have boots on the ground at the time. We were sitting one morning in the mess hall ¨C the early crowd ¨C when we see a flash outside the window. They targeted one of the workers¡¯ barracks, disintegrated it right from orbit. A moment later the shockwave hit us, knocking out some windows and sending us into a panic. They¡¯d already landed a battalion by that point, so when we rushed out of the dining hall, they yelled for us to stop, gave us no time to react, and fired. I was right in that second wave who would have been next if we hadn¡¯t frozen in our tracks. I remember them reading us our rights, but hearing nothing, just watching the breath of the person lying under my feet. Their back rose and fell, and rose and fell, and never rose again, a slight twitch in their leg from their central nervous system disintegrating. Only other thing I remember is the smell. Not of blood or anything, these things don¡¯t make you bleed, but they have their own smell. Smell of electrified evil.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Her eyes drifted back to the weapon, and Hilosh¡¯s followed hers and rested on the top of the gun, where underneath a plastic safety cover was the trigger, seeming to weigh more heavily than the whole gun itself.


    ¡°We¡¯d been told we¡¯re no longer at-will labourers, and that we were working fully in service to the Anthar Kai and its customers and shareholders, and given that the Vaparozh colonies out there were included as its customers, they assured us that we still technically worked for our own people. Only consolation was that there were now Thorians stuck there with us, though they were sure to remind us of their displeasure at this as often as possible. Those of us who were there at the beginning, fifteen years they kept us on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh until the contracts we never actually signed supposedly expired. Still, despite all of that, I was mostly angry for the ones we lost on that first day. Just like that. Not even a chance to surrender, to weigh your options, to chose life or death. Just blinked out of existence. The ones that were left felt like we owed it to them to survive because we were at least given the opportunity to do so. For those of us who did make it to the end, the stipend that they gave us was barely enough to get to Dayuna and most had settled down on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh by then, built a new town from scratch. Not me, I just wanted to get off. My mom though by then had moved as far away from the Thorians as she could ¨C to the borders of Dead Space on a mostly Iastret colony. So I figured if I took this job, I could get a free ride to be closer, then make some proper Vaparozh money and move back in with her.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a good plan.¡± What else was there to say? How did people generally know what to say in these situations, how many little noises of disbelief and sympathy did Hilosh need to make to sound caring, how many before he sounded disinterested?


    ¡°Well, dying here because an Anthar Kai ship¡¯s life support failed wasn¡¯t part of the plan. Hey,¡± Charosar put on a smile that seemed to Hilosh to be entirely too wide, ¡°Looks like they managed to get me in the end.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be docking in a few,¡± Yarmar called from the controls, the first sound that came from her since Charosar started speaking. They were practically in the same space, the cockpit separated from the seating area by a thin partition with a single door that remained open. How much did she hear, or was she simply too focused on her piloting to respond? ¡°Once we get there, I think maybe I should handle the devastator.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Charosar asked, finally returning to her regular laid-back seating position that vaguely projected some kind of attitude. ¡°You think I might blast whoever¡¯s on that ship just for being Anthar Kai?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s because it seems like I¡¯m the only one¡¯s who¡¯s actually fired a neural devastator before.¡±


    ¡°Of course you have.¡± The annoyance in Hilosh¡¯s voice surprised even himself. ¡°Did you by any chance learn to use it in the same place you learned Native Thorian?¡±


    ?


    ¡°I spent a few years in security work before being assigned here.¡± Hilosh appreciated Yarmar ignoring his outburst but nevertheless noted that she didn¡¯t answer his question.

 Book I, Chapter 9.3

    Nothing had changed since the last time they were at the transfer station ¨C the Raire looked the same, still idle and pristine, docked into the station¡¯s main loading port while their shuttle approached the smaller entrance on the opposite side. Inside the station, the panel by the airlock door that separated them from the Anthar Kai supply vessel indicated that there was nothing wrong with the atmosphere or the temperature in the Raire. Still, they opted for full-body environmental suits with their own oxygen supply before they attempted entry.


    ¡°Looks like everything¡¯s docked properly,¡± Yarmar said as the enormous station-side door began to open to fit the dimensions of the Raire¡¯s cargo door. ¡°So as long as the Raire¡¯s crew didn¡¯t bypass any standard security protocols, which I wouldn¡¯t put past them, we should be able to open the ship from this side.¡±


    After a few more keystrokes and some ominous beeping, the seam in the Raire¡¯s doors started to open and as the two halves slid part, it gave the three Vaparozh their first glimpse of the inside of the Anthar Kai ship¡¯s cargo hold.


    ¡°Must be an all-Thorian crew,¡± Yarmar commented. The lighting inside the Raire resembled twilight with a slight red tint ¨C not too dark to make out shapes but not optimal for climbing onto a starship with a mysteriously disappeared crew.


    With the reddish colour and general dimness, the cavernous cargo compartment, which was five times their height and one of several that comprised the overall cargo space of the supply ship, looked like the open mouth of an enormous beast. The image had not made it any easier for Hilosh to take a step forward, but Yarmar headed in, neural devastator at the ready, so him and Charosar had no choice but to follow. They had to walk past rows of crates and large containers on the way to the door visible on the other side of the vast room.


    ¡°Keep an eye out for anything we might want to bring down to the surface.¡± Yarmar motioned in the direction of a refrigerated container, which may have been filled with consumable goods. It still didn¡¯t sit fully right with Hilosh to be pilfering anything from the Raire, but having now been on the ship and seeing no signs of life, the idea started to become more palatable. Much to his annoyance, even salvage wasn¡¯t going to be an easy task since most of the containers here were marked only with serial numbers. They¡¯d either need to find a way to access the Anthar Kai ship¡¯s manifest or go through each container with brute force. And this was only the top deck of the cargo hold, with several layers beneath their feet to scour. Going through the daunting task in his head only swelled the desire to find at least one survivor that could aid them in the search.


    They had nearly made it to the door leading to the rest of the ship when they encountered the first of the crew.


    All three of them almost walked by it, but an unusual dark shape between the crates caught Hilosh¡¯s eye and made his knees buckle momentarily. Yarmar turned sharply at that, devastator pointing at the narrow space. The shape, however, was not moving, though it was clear to them that sometime previously, it would have been able to.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    They approached slowly, and Hilosh wondered whether dragging the process out this way was better or worse for his twin hearts that seemed to be competing as to which one could beat the most desperately in his chest. There was a new kind of dread that filled him when they were close enough to distinguish the position the body was lying in ¨C fetal, arms wrapped around its knees and head mostly tucked in. It was wearing the crisp black uniform of the Anthar Kai, with the silver buttons up the sleeves and short coattails on the back. Of the head, only the hair was visible, so it was difficult to tell whether they were Thorian, and no one was eager to move the body to confirm.


    It¡¯s not that Hilosh had never seen a dead body before. Working at mine sites and construction sites, there was no avoiding coming face to face with the aftermath of an accident. But there was a sense of obviousness about those incidents ¨C a fall, getting crushed by machinery, malfunctioning equipment that exploded. Here, there was nothing clearly wrong with the victim ¨C no blood, no visible injury, just the crumpled shell of something that used to be alive, now discarded like the outer skin of some insect or crustacean. There was nothing revolting about it, and their respirators would have dealt with any smell, but it left Hilosh feeling hollowed out. He turned away, and noticed for the first time the reactions of his crew ¨C Charosar with the distant stare of someone who¡¯d seen enough senseless death up close and Yarmar with her mouth slightly pursed, her eyes moving in small rapid motions.


    ¡°What do you think happened?¡± Yarmar asked, which made Hilosh worry that she would bend down and inspect the body.


    ¡°No idea,¡± Hilosh answered refusing to look back.


    ¡°Cha?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Charosar admitted, ¡°Hands look weird though.¡±


    At this, Hilosh looked over his shoulder in time to see Yarmar take a step forward and push with her boot against the corpse¡¯s hand.


    ¡°They look shriveled, almost dried. And what¡¯s that?¡± Yarmar¡¯s nudge revealed busted darkened fingertips covered in what looked like dried blood.


    ¡°We should get out of here,¡± Charosar said, ¡°We have access to the cargo, so we should just find what we need and go.¡±


    ¡°We need to find out what happened here,¡± Yarmar¡¯s tone was even, like she was quoting from somewhere instead of speaking for herself.


    ¡°What more do we need to find out? They¡¯re dead.¡± Now it was Charosar who turned around abruptly and walked back in the direction of the main passage between the containers. ¡°The Anthar Kai will come pick up their ship eventually, there¡¯s nothing else we can do.¡±


    ?


    They¡¯d all clearly heard it, as even Charosar stopped in her tracks and turned her head in the direction of the sound. Hilosh would never have imagined that within the silence that the curled-up body seemed to have enveloped them in, a single distinct metallic clang coming from deeper within the ship could invoke such terror.

 Book I, Chapter 9.4

    At the sound of the metal clang ringing through the cargo hold of the Raire, the speaker in Hilosh helmet picked up Charosar¡¯s groan.


    ¡°And now we need to go in there,¡± Yarmar said, ignoring the sentiment.


    ¡°Why? Why do we ¡®need¡¯ to go in there?¡± Charosar demanded, voice rising.


    ¡°Because there could be someone alive out there.¡±


    ¡°Yes, someone Thorian.¡±


    They let Charosar stew for a minute, the heavy exhales whistling through their earpieces.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this any more than you do, Charosar,¡± Hilosh said, ¡°but Yarmar is right. If there¡¯s still anyone alive in there we need to help them.¡± As if to sound its agreement with what Hilosh was saying, the faint metallic clang rang again from the direction of the door leading out of the cargo hold. Charosar turned her head slightly towards it. Hilosh may not have not known much about people, but what he did know was that if this had involved anyone but the Thorians, Charosar would have been the first one prying those doors open even in the absence of any signs of life from the other side. Personally, he considered himself lucky to have had few interactions with them outside of Anthar Kai supply runs, yet it was enough to help him at least understand Charosar¡¯s sentiment, though not necessarily agree with it.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Charosar said finally. ¡°You better have a good grip on that thing, Yarmar.¡± She nodded in the direction of the neural devastator gun in Yarmar¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, Cha,¡± Yarmar assured and led them away from the fallen Thorian. Just as they were about to round the corner, Hilosh took one last look at the body, a shadow amongst shadows. Whatever happened to them, it was a lonely death.


    The door leading out of the cargo hold also gave way to the transfer station¡¯s safety protocols and soon the three Vaparozh were in the Raire¡¯s main corridors, no less gloomy than where they came from.


    ¡°Would it kill them to install a brightness switch or something?¡± Charosar grumbled, even though the glasses she was wearing allowed her to be the only one of the three to have the ability to see half-decently in that light. For most species, this level of illumination resembled twilight on the planet they¡¯d evolved on. For the Vaparozh, however, with their eyes were built for the bright sun of their own homeworld, this environment posed a particular challenge. The Thorians had a tendency to make themselves at home anywhere they went, even if they only comprised a miniscule minority of the population of the planet or moon they were occupying. So despite the fact that most of them had small surgical implants in the bridge of their noses to attach the darkened glasses they carried off-world to protect themselves from brighter suns, they made sure most interior environments were catered to their sensibilities. It was this exact environment on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh that destroyed Charosar¡¯s eyesight to the point where she had to wear the ocular enhancing glasses that now made her the unspoken volunteer to lead them through the Raire. Yarmar was a half-step behind her with her finger a hair from the trigger of the neural devastator, and Hilosh was at the rear.


    Their progress was slow, in large part due to none of them having the appetite for suddenly coming face-to-face with another gruesome sight. They walked cautiously, studying every door and dim corner for any signs of the corpse¡¯s fellow crewmembers, and when they finally found one, it presented itself matter-of-factly, in a take-it-or-leave-it way, just sitting on the wall, at waist level, without commentary, as if they had to simply accept it, and move on about their day. It was a smear of blood, about the width of a palm and twice as long, dried on the corridor wall. They stared at it in silence, Hilosh not even bothering to imagine what the other two were thinking. The body they¡¯d found in the cargo hold, though a body it was, had just been lying there as if to make a simple statement ¨C here is a dead body. This smear, even though it lacked a corresponding body, represented evidence of violence. Gone was any hope that this was an environmental system malfunction that righted itself too late. This was tangible evidence that they¡¯d hardly even scratched the surface of what happened on board the Raire.


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    As Hilosh grimly suspected, it was a sign of what was to come, as up ahead they found the continued blood trail ¨C drops that here and there formed into dried pools, some of them streaked across the floor. Hilosh believed in his crew more than he believed in himself. He wanted to suggest they turn back, that they¡¯d seen enough, that another Anthar Kai ship would come along to investigate, that the clanging sound that drew them in was probably some persistent mechanical malfunction. It would take some time but he could convince himself that it was alright to change his mind, to turn back knowing that fifteen minutes earlier he thought investigating was the right thing to do. The other two, even Charosar despite herself, would not likely be so easily persuaded. Hilosh was thankful to them for not hesitating and, like any good leader, he knew when to follow.


    They¡¯d followed the trail of blood up two levels, to the deck where the bridge was likely located, but there it disappeared abruptly, and they hadn¡¯t heard the metallic clang for so long that they suspected it might have stopped altogether.


    After a minute of standing motionless listening to the ship, it was Charosar who asked, ¡°Should we turn back? This is a ghost ship if there ever was one.¡±


    ¡°A supply ship like this wouldn¡¯t have had that much crew to begin with, so it¡¯s not a surprise we haven¡¯t seen anyone,¡± Yarmar replied, conveniently glossing over the one crewmember that they had seen. ¡°We should at least check out the bridge, and then we can go.¡±


    They both turned to face Hilosh ¨C a decision like this required both co-supervisors to be on board ¨C and he wasn¡¯t about to be the one who chose to run.


    ¡°I think it makes sense to check as far as the bridge. Then we can head back to the surface so we can think about putting together a proper salvage run.¡± He added that last part for his own benefit, because it made him feel that much closer to being off the ship.


    He wondered what his son, Rachek, would think of his father then. Rachek had a penchant for opinions lately ¨C they burst out of him with a destructive force that leveled everything in their path. What would Rachek make of his father¡¯s fear; his reluctance in the face of the unknown? He¡¯d probably say something like ¡°this is why we lost¡± ¨C something weighty that meant a lot to Rachek, but left Hilosh feeling mostly empty, like the Thorians had built a wall between him and his son.


    They never did make it to the bridge.


    Up ahead of them stood the door to the comms room, the source of that initial call that Viri played for them back at the mining facility, and it was only partially closed, because blocking its way was an arm. Presumably, Hilosh thought, the arm would be attached to a body still inside the room, though he wasn¡¯t sure if he preferred that to the arm being disembodied. Perhaps if they never went in, and he didn¡¯t have to find out for sure, he could go on pretending there was nothing beyond the door at all.


    Yarmar, though, moved forward with determination.


    ?


    ¡°What ¨C¡± Charosar managed to start but against his instincts Hilosh walked past her after Yarmar and Charosar had to join them.

 Book I Chapter 9.5

    The comms room was not where the sound they heard earlier had been coming from, but that didn¡¯t stop Yarmar from having the neural devastator gun at the ready when the door slid fully open. It was quickly apparent that there would be no need for it here. There was a body on the other side of the door, the trapped arm twisted at an odd angle. It lay in a pool of dried blood, though it was not immediately clear where it came from. Further inside there were two others, also both Thorian. They lay close to each other, one on their back, the other bent forward with the side of their face pressed into the floor. Both corpses had significant bruising and bleeding on their foreheads, their Thorian cranial bumps smashed to almost beyond recognition. Sickened to his stomach at even being able to draw such a conclusion, Hilosh thought that it looked like the body that was lying on its back had died days after the one with its face on the floor.


    ¡°What in the green divinities happened here?¡± Charosar whispered, but with the three of them connected by their mics, the chill of her voice was loud and clear in Hilosh¡¯s ear.


    ¡°They certainly didn¡¯t go as peacefully as the one in the cargo hold,¡± Yarmar said, a cold distance in her voice, the muzzle of the neural devastator she was holding still pointed towards the bodies. She was right, if the one down in cargo looked like they passed quietly into the beyond, these were sent there abruptly, and possibly by each other¡¯s hands. Hilosh remembered the voices in the background of the message they received from the ship. In all likelihood, they had come from these grotesque distorted faces when they still ranked among the living, or from whatever or whomever had done this to them.


    The flashlight beam found another corpse in the far right corner of the room, crumpled unnaturally against the wall, its head displaying a similar kind of damage as the others, the front of its shirt soaked in blood from the head wound and a wound on his neck. Hilosh was reaching his limits. His breath shallow, and a tightening discomfort around the flesh in the back of his head, he had to stop, arms braced against the communications console, and looked at the floor to escape from the carnage, only to find a bloody footprint. He closed his eyes, taking a few breaths, while the other two paid him no heed, continuing to survey the room.


    The Anthar Kai, whenever they come to learn of this, would be all over them. Normally they took little interest in small outposts like theirs. Flung so far out into Dead Space, the administration of something so small hardly made it worth it and there were other ways they could exploit them. But this, just being here on this ship, leaving their own footprints in Thorian blood and with Charosar formerly posted on Rosha Chot¡¯hagh. Throwing up inside his helmet was not an option, taking it off to throw up in the comms room was similarly off the table. Hilosh opened his eyes to ground himself again, and peered over the console he was leaning on. There, he spotted the top of another head.


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    ¡°Come take a look at this,¡± he said, and waited for the other two to come by before he walked around to have a look himself.


    This body was similar to the one they found in the cargo hold, sitting against the console with its knees up against its chest and its head resting on them. The visible skin on their hands and forehead was similarly wrinkled and dry-looking and there were no signs of severe physical trauma that could have contributed to the death.


    ¡°I wonder if he¡¯s the one who sent the message,¡± Yarmar echoed Hilosh¡¯s thoughts. Were these words, spoken across the coldness of space to a tiny mining operation of mostly Vaparozh, where only one person even understood their meaning, the final words of this Anthar Kai crewmember? ¡°Why am I?¡± indeed, Hilosh thought, completing the sentence with ¡°about to drop on you all like an emissary of death?¡± Hilosh had just about enough of the Raire and its ghosts.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve seen all that we need to here,¡± Hilosh said, trying to find a spot to focus on in this room without seeing death and not finding any.


    ¡°We still don¡¯t know what happened.¡± Yarmar had knelt down by the corpse behind the comms panel and gently prodded its shoulder with the muzzle of the neural devastator.


    ¡°We can leave that to the Anthar Kai. We did what we needed to, which is check for survivors.¡± Hilosh wished he could whisper this to Yarmar, away from Charosar¡¯s ears, but they were on a shared frequency. ¡°Now¡¯s not the time to satisfy our personal curiosity.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not personal curiosity, Hilosh. Something actually brought down a ship full of Thorians. And you know they would sooner burn the Raire down than let anyone else know how or why.¡±


    From the corner of his eye, Hilosh could see Charosar straighten-up at this suggestion.


    ¡°I know. I know if the Anthar Kai takes over, we¡¯ll never know what happened here. But do you really want to know? What do you think they¡¯ll do if they suspect we might have this knowledge? We¡¯re a small group of Vaparozh out in Dead Space and they¡¯ll have no problem making sure that no one will ever miss us. Is that want you want for our crew?¡±


    For a while, Yarmar didn¡¯t move, communing silently with the dead Thorian she¡¯d been studying.


    ¡°We might have already seen too much,¡± Hilosh added.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, you¡¯re right,¡± Yarmar said finally, getting up. ¡°Let¡¯s get off the ship, and pretend we didn¡¯t see anything. Charosar?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe how many times I¡¯ve dreamt of being in a room full of dead Thorians,¡± the engineer answered, ¡°But now that I¡¯m here, I¡¯m not so sure how much I prefer them to the lives ones.¡±


    ?


    They piled out of the communications room, and behind them, Yarmar shut the door over the arm of the body that either never fully made it in or out. It closed on the appendage with a gut-wrenching thump and Hilosh had to remind himself that they weren¡¯t the ones responsible and were just putting everything back in its rightful, or in this case, wrongful, place.

 Book I, Chapter 9.6

    The pace of their exit from the Raire was determined, boots ringing hollowly in the corridors as they made their otherwise silent way back to the cargo hold. They were almost out, Hilosh already daydreaming of removing his helmet and taking a refreshing breath of the recycled air inside the shuttle, when the clang, long silenced until then, rung out in their ears through the wall they were passing.


    The three Vaparozh stood in a tense triangle until Yarmar, one hand firmly on the neural devastator, placed her other hand on the wall. It didn¡¯t take long for the sound to ring again and for her to conclude, ¡°It¡¯s coming from inside.¡±


    Charosar took a step back examining a low-security door with a simple metal handle. ¡°What is this place?¡±


    ¡°The galley,¡± Yarmar answered approaching the door, but looking at Hilosh before she made a move to go inside.


    ¡°Open it,¡± Hilosh heard himself say from somewhere very far away, as far away as their little colony world on the fringes of Thorian space, with his son Rachek at his side, his wife and daughter dining in the adjacent room, and he wasn¡¯t asking Yarmar to open the Raire¡¯s galley door but rather telling Rachek that he should go to a Thorian University if he wanted a brighter future than his own people could offer him.


    ¡°Charosar?¡± Hilosh prompted.


    He¡¯d tell himself later than it made perfect sense ¨C Yarmar¡¯s hands were occupied holding the neural devastator gun, and as for Hilosh, Hilosh was a co-supervisor, which, he supposed, left him with certain responsibilities, and in this case those responsibilities meant that he also had to hang back. So, by an impartial process of elimination, it had to be Charosar to open the door and head in first. Why did it feel like these decisions were what defined one as a person, small spur-of-the-moment choices that eclipsed anything else one might have done? Charosar though, despite that brief look in her eyes that asked him the same questions he asked of himself, faced the door, pulled the handle and gave it just enough of a push for it to open all the way.


    Charosar stepped inside first ¨C again because of various reason that would be later washed out of his memory ¨C and led them into a room that was completely ransacked. Some chairs had been strewn about haphazardly while others were piled into a heap at one end of the room. Containers of food, some opened, others not, lay about the floor, which in places was covered in spills of various hues. There were, to Hilosh¡¯s relief, no bodies in sight, which gave his mind enough space to feel discomfort at finding itself in a place where males and females ate together. To further drive this point home, there was a single ring-shaped table in the room, large enough to accommodate the whole crew, and the one thing bolted down to the floor and not out of place.


    Something shifted behind the pile of chairs and Yarmar raised her gun in that direction. Hilosh¡¯s throat seized up but Yarmar seemed to have the right word for the occasion. ¡°Sakhshi?¡±


    Another Native Thorian word, but at least he recognized its counterpart ¡°Sakashi¡±, the Trade Thorian word for ¡°hello¡±.


    There was no answer.


    ¡°Sakhshi?¡± Yarmar repeated, and this tame there was an unmistakable questioning grunt from the far side of the galley.


    ¡°Laitir thosh? Kashikti nishi. Kashikti ifri.¡±


    This one was a bit trickier for Hilosh, but he recognized ¡°nishi¡± and ¡°ifiri¡± ¨C the words for ¡°friend¡± and ¡°help¡±, which gave him a good indication of Yarmar¡¯s chosen approach.


    This time though, the lone occupant of the galley, a Thorian male, emerged from behind his hiding spot. Something was terribly wrong with him.


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    It wasn¡¯t just that the only thing that remained of his Anthar Kai uniform was his jacket, or that his hair was wild and matted with sweat, but that his eyes, open wide and rapidly darting between the three of them, looked to be infected with a deep confusion. His posture too, was not properly upright, and slouched slightly as if poised to strike whether in offence or defence.


    ¡°Something¡¯s not right here,¡± came Charosar¡¯s voice through Hilosh¡¯s earpiece, a slight quiver in there that Hilosh had never heard before.


    ¡°Hold on a second,¡± Yarmar said, slowly approaching what appeared to be the last survivor of the Raire.


    ¡°Taraktir elai? Taraktir shakesh?¡±


    The Thorian cocked his head to the side, the confusion, or fear, or whatever it was, growing in intensity in his eyes, as if he understood of what was said even less than Hilosh did, who only picked up ¡°shakeshe¡± the Trade Thorian word for ¡°hurt¡±. He assumed that Yarmar meant to say that they weren¡¯t going to hurt him. The neural devastator held tightly in Yarmar¡¯s hands would have indicated otherwise, though the Thorian seemed to pay no mind to it and only focused intently on Yarmar¡¯s eyes. And that¡¯s when Hilosh realized to his horror that the Raire crewmember had no idea what the weapon was.


    ¡°We should go,¡± Hilosh said with no reservations about the urgency in his voice.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± Yarmar said. Was this directed more at Hilosh or the Thorian? It didn¡¯t matter, because regardless the assertion had been wrong. In the next moment, the Thorian lunged forwarded with an incoherent growl, pushing past Yarmar and heading straight for Charosar, knocking her to the floor and falling on top of her, and proceeded to beat down on her with fists and forearms. Hilosh lunged to try to get the deranged Thorian off her, stopped only by Yarmar¡¯s firm command of ¡°Move!¡± His fellow co-supervisor was holding up the neural devastator and aiming it in the general direction of Charosar and the Thorian, steadying herself for the shot. Charosar was trying to catch the Thorian¡¯s arms with her hands as they smashed against her helmet and chest, the terrible mix of bangs and Charosar¡¯s grunts heavy in Hilosh¡¯s ear. He wanted Yarmar to hurry up and take the shot, but also feared that Charosar might be caught in the crossfire.


    A greenish-yellow starburst escaped the muzzle of the devastator and flew halfway across the galley before absorbing itself completely into the Thorian¡¯s back. His curt gasp was immediately followed by silence and the full weight of him dropping on top of Charosar.


    ¡°Get this rotten ¨C ugh ¨C off me,¡± Charosar wheezed and Hilosh helped drag the dead Thorian onto the floor.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He asked, offering a hand to get her off the floor.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I am.¡±


    ¡°Cha, I¡¯m so sorry, he ¨C¡±


    ¡°Forget it,¡± Charosar stopped Yarmar with a slight wave, ¡°I just need to get off this ship or I swear to the green divinities I will personally set charges to blow it to dust.¡±


    No one spoke a word until the Raire was sealed and their shuttle had left the transfer station into the blackness of space. Charosar carried herself well, considering Hilosh would later learn that she had four broken and three cracked ribs, one of which had cut, but thankfully not punctured, her middle lung. They told Ladis, their designated medic, that a loose crate had fallen on her, which probably wouldn¡¯t have fooled a real doctor but was good enough for Ladis.


    If the crew hadn¡¯t yet been suspicious about what happened up on the Raire, then Charosar¡¯s stay at the infirmary and Hilosh¡¯s absence during dinner the following day would have certainly set them over the edge. He knew his people needed him to pull himself together, but Hilosh was coming undone.

 Book I, Chapter 10.1

    Chapter 10


    Boro


    There was little distinguishing the darkened Yshot Station from the other minor satellites that orbited the rocky planet below them and Boro knew this had been a major reason why the station was chosen for their mission. It didn¡¯t make it any less disheartening though that after a month of flying under the stealthy cloak of the Forseti¡¯s ¡°ghost¡± technology, the scenery was hardly less drab than the complete darkness at the edge of subspace.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be at Yshot in less than ten minutes,¡± Surch Guraty announced, sitting in the pilot¡¯s chair in the recessed centre of the bridge, appearing to be more at ease flying under propulsion engines than having to do minor course corrections to the mostly autopiloted flight that brought them there.


    ¡°Everything look normal down there?¡± Captain Timofie Pueson asked.


    ¡°Nothing unusual, far as I can see.¡± The answer came from Maggie Okoth, the starship¡¯s Techever. The visual display that covered the back half of the wall of the rotunda-shaped bridge was a video display, rather than a true window to the outside of the ship, as the Forseti¡¯s bridge was located closer to its centre, away from exterior walls. Maggie, however, with the five wires running from underneath the fingernails of her left hand and plugging into her computer terminal, could see so much more, as the Forseti¡¯s systems were essentially wired through her brain at that moment, allowing her to process all of its visual and other scans into a coherent picture.


    As Surch indicated, in ten minutes the ship was ready to dock with the recently decommissioned Iastret Station. Decommissioned solely to accommodate their arrival. The planet Yshot itself, after which the station that was orbiting it and the entire stellar system were named, was an uninhabitable rock located in the fuzzy borders between the Iastret Commonwealth, the Vaparozh Interdependency and the Thorian Empire. Until about a century ago, it was home to a mining colony, until a glut in the resource it produced forced its abandonment. After that, Yshot Station was staffed by a skeleton research crew studying the adaptability of a non-native lichen on the planet below. And now several months ago, the local Iastret government ordered a recall of the science crew pending a needlessly bureaucratic review of its research mandate. It was an advantage of bureaucracies ¨C a single cog moved the whole mechanism that was not aware of why it was moving. For good measure, it had also done the same thing to two other innocent research teams, just to keep whoever may have been watching on their toes; most likely the Thorians.


    Surch eased the flat forward part of the ship against one of the docking ports of Yshot Station. The pilot¡¯s hands were placed on the dome-shaped controls built into each armrest of the pilot¡¯s chair, corresponding to the similarly-shaped propulsion engines on either side of the Forseti.


    ¡°Ship is safely docked, Captain,¡± the Techever announced from behind them.


    ¡°Thank you, Lieutenant Guraty,¡± Pueson said in his soft, almost-quivering voice. ¡°Commander Stevin, I trust that you¡¯re still planning to supervise the onboarding of the cargo.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain, I¡¯ll get the team ready right away,¡± Boro answered. ¡°Indario, I¡¯ll see you down there.¡± There was no rational reason why Boro couldn¡¯t wait a moment and head to the cargo bay doors together with the Forseti¡¯s Parsk Nahur weapons specialist. Boro found the smell emanating from the digestive sacks of their species, located between their sagging cheeks and their shoulders, to be overwhelming and the less time he spent in closed quarters with Indario, the better.


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    The task of overseeing the loading of cargo from an empty station was a babysitting job that didn¡¯t really require Boro¡¯s presence, but protocol was protocol and with his Comms Officer in a cast and walking boot, Boro was the next logical candidate to oversee the operation.


    The Thorian, as Boro had predicted, was alive. Boro checked with Dr. Sufai if he¡¯d been in to see her, but citing patient confidentiality she refused to confirm or deny it. Even then, the fact that he hadn¡¯t appeared since the stasis rotation ended meant that the Thorian was probably in need of some serious convalescing, which was consolation enough for the second-in-command of the Forseti.


    What Boro did not expect, even with his prior knowledge of the general fighting prowess of the Thorian species, was how much damage Mikarik would inflict to Boro¡¯s crew. Not only did he now have an officer with a broken leg, a third of the engineering team was also laid down. As far as he heard, Chief Engineer Aimi Ishikawa really let her crew have it for their lack of judgement, and if the full force of Engineer Ishikawa had already descended on their concussed heads, Boro found no reason to follow up personally.


    After exiting stasis, Surch seemed to Boro to have been in a changed mood. Or at the very least, the fact that the pilot failed to make a quip about Boro¡¯s exciting cargo transfer mission as Boro left the bridge was an indicator that something was amiss. If Surch was still troubled by Boro¡¯s methods ¨C the Commander¡¯s decision to let the fight between the Thorian and his crew play out undeterred ¨C all Boro could say was that no one suffered any permanent injuries, save possibly the Thorian, and he could tell that already some tension had left the ship.


    When Boro reached the cargo hold doors, everyone who needed to be there, except for the Parsk Nahur, who would join them momentarily, was already gathered. There was Meeron Thuliga, the ship¡¯s steward and quartermaster, as well as Tuka Rose and Ryo Sutanto, two Human members of the maintenance crew.


    ¡°How are things looking from this end?¡± Boro aske no one specifically.


    ¡°Docking sequence went pretty smoothly,¡± Tuka answered in a heavy rockhopper accent ¨C a form of Earth Standard Commercial that was careening towards being unintelligible. ¡°I thought she may be a bit rusty with the crew being off for a few months but she did alright.¡±


    ¡°Good. Meeron, you have everyone you need?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t need to be complicated,¡± the shaved-headed quartermaster said, ¡°Everything we need is nearest the door, so we should be quick.¡±


    ¡°Just the essentials?¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Meeron steepled his eyebrows in a show of innocence.


    The Parsk Nahur arrived holding a neural devastator gun, his fleshy fingers a hair away from the trigger.


    ¡°You think that¡¯ll be necessary?¡± Boro asked. A neural devastator in the hands of anyone but a Human had always made Boro uncomfortable, doubly so in the hands of a Parsk Nahur, though by all accounts their species were not known for violence, just everything else unsavoury.


    The Parsk Nahur merely nodded, a gesture that Boro had figured out was for their species the equivalent of a shrug. Indario could talk, he just chose not to most of the time, and Boro wasn¡¯t sure if that bothered him more than if the Parsk Nahur was incapable of speaking at all.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get it over with,¡± Boro said and gestured to the loading doors¡¯ control panel, which Tuka was quick to activate. The doors whirred to life, rising slowly and revealing not only the stack of crates that they expected to be waiting for them, but two accompanying Humans standing to either side of their cargo.

 Chapter 10.2

    Finding two passengers in the cargo hold of Yshot Station when they were led to believe that the station was decommissioned and fully abandoned, the Parsk Nahur raised his weapon, his finger moving to the trigger. Then, likely noticing that the unexpected persons were Human and therefore, on their face, not hostile, he began to lower the neural devastator.


    ¡°Hold up.¡± Boro raised his hand to the height of his waist. ¡°Don¡¯t lower it yet.¡± There was something immediately curious about these two, and it wasn¡¯t that they weren¡¯t supposed to be there, but that the woman and man seemed to show absolutely no distress at having the weapon raised at them.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Boro asked. ¡°We were told there were no more personnel on Yshot.¡±


    ¡°There have been security breaches, Commander,¡± said the woman on the right, ¡°They have forced a change of plans, and someone needed to oversee the transfer.¡±


    ¡°And so they sent you two?¡±


    ¡°They sent whoever was least likely to be compromised.¡± The woman who was speaking for the two of them had jet black hair, cropped short into an unflattering haircut that made it look like her hair oozed over her head. Small black eyes sat beneath a dark brow and a long nose pointed towards a mouth that seemed constantly puckered forward.


    ¡°So then you¡¯re from Intelligence?¡± Boro asked, itching to have the neural devastator in his own hands instead.


    ¡°That is correct,¡± the woman with the long nose and long face said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like Intelligence to me.¡±


    ¡°Think about it, Commander,¡± the man stepped in. ¡°If this station was discovered, would you rather they find two Intelligence officers here or two abandoned maintenance workers?¡± This one spoke in a voice that was oddly paternalistic, and what stood out about him to Boro were his light eyes, a pale green, with one being noticeably smaller than the other.


    ¡°You have credentials on you?¡± Boro asked, trying to anticipate every asinine question the Captain would ask him.


    ¡°Commander, again, this is not a time to be carrying credentials.¡± Why did Boro feel the man with the pale mismatched eyes was trying to pat him on the head with his words? Tuka and Ryo were standing at the threshold of the of the door leading into Yshot Station, shifting their weight from foot to foot but otherwise keeping quiet and watching the interaction. Boro stepped a few paces back, and they followed suit while the Parsk Nahur maintained his position, hands firmly around the devastator.


    Boro called Captain Pueson on his personal pad and was brought up on the bridge¡¯s viewscreen.


    ¡°Trouble, Commander?¡± the Captain asked with a slight smile which disappeared when he assessed Boro¡¯s expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain yet, Captain,¡± Boro said before recounting the situation with the supposed Intelligence Officers and then providing his recommendation that they ought to proceed, but with extreme caution.


    ¡°That seems to be our only option,¡± Captain Pueson said. ¡°We haven¡¯t received any advance warning on this, which isn¡¯t really a surprise considering that the intention was to not send any pings our way.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem to be anything in the Station¡¯s onboard computer either,¡± Maggie Okoth, the Forseti¡¯s Techever reported from behind Captain Pueson, ¡°A clean slate since the last Iastret left.¡±


    ¡°You can interface with it from here?¡± Though Boro was generally suspicious of the Techevers, Humans engineered and trained to interface with machines, he was repeatedly struck by the extent of their abilities.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.¡°In a limited way. Though it doesn¡¯t like me being in it no more than I enjoy rooting around inside it,¡± Maggie said, then cocked her head to the side and gave a tight-lipped smile.


    ¡°You are of course, free to go, Commander,¡± said the Intelligence officer with the pale green eyes.


    ¡°Though we¡¯re not sure how well that would serve you in the long run,¡± added the one with the jet-black hair.


    They certainly talked like long-time partners, playing off each other as a single unit, though doing little to put Boro at ease, which ought to have been their goal. In any case, they were right. There was no turning their back on these supplies, but that also didn¡¯t mean that they had to turn their back to the Intelligence officers either.


    Before giving Tuka and Ryo the order to proceed, Boro approached the Parsk Nahur and said under his breath, ¡°If either of them try anything funny, you shoot them.¡±


    ¡°To kill?¡± Came the vibrating voice from inside the Parsk Nahur¡¯s speech organ.


    Boro looked from one of the Intelligence officers to the other and then said, ¡°Just one of them.¡±


    The loading of the cargo itself went smoothly. The crates were fitted with maglev facilitators which allowed Tuka and Ryo to haul them easily from station to ship using a single gurney, while Meeron then checked the contents of the delivered crates against the manifest. The Intelligence officer with the black eyes and long nose made a move to help at first, but Boro sharply told her that it wasn¡¯t necessary. The constantly puckered mouth on her face made her look almost pouty at that, but truthfully her expression hadn¡¯t changed in the slightest when she was forced to step aside and let the Forseti crewmembers handle the operation.


    Boro almost had to admire the Parsk Nahur at that moment. An imposing frame with a larger head, and for most species an unreadable expression, given their lack of mouth and large recessed eyes that didn¡¯t provide for much of a brow. The two Humans aboard Yshot station, whoever they were, even if they were from Intelligence, would think twice about attempting anything.


    And for the most part they waited patiently as the cargo was loaded crate by crate, filling up the storage hold of the Forseti.


    As one crate moved past Boro, who stood nearer to the doorway that connected Yshot Station and the Forseti, he heard some murmuring between Tuka and Ryo, which culminated in Tuka asking in hardly a hushed tone when the crate arrived by Meeron¡¯s side. ¡°This is the one where the good stuff is, aight Meeron?¡± Tuka tapped the crate as it settled on the floor beside the quartermaster.


    ¡°Pipe it, will you?¡± Meeron said, though he also didn¡¯t bother lowering his voice.


    ¡°Oh you talking about the Commander?¡± Tuka looked over his shoulder to where Boro was standing next to the door, just slightly behind the Parsk Nahur, looking at the inventory charts on his personal tablet. ¡°He¡¯s one of us, ain¡¯t he Commander?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t hear you Tuka over the sound of how busy I am,¡± Boro called out, eyes not lifting from his tablet. He was still firmly committed to the idea that a certain amount of slack was required, and that undue tension was far more dangerous for the crew than the occasional, and mostly harmless, disrespect for the rules. Captain Pueson may have liked to do things by the book, a very flimsy paperback book as it was, but if he didn¡¯t want Boro to do things the Boro way, then he shouldn¡¯t have delegated anything to him in the first place.


    ?


    Tuka and Ryo left the latest crate in Meeron¡¯s hands and headed back into Yshot Station, whose cargo bay was no longer so crowded near the doors.

 Chapter 10.3

    Hmm,¡± Boro heard Meeron say and turned his head to find the provincial colonial staring intently at his manifest and then looking at the readout on the display of the latest crate to be delivered from Yshot Station by Tuka and Ryo.


    ¡°What is it, Meeron?¡±


    ¡°Probably just sloppy record keeping. No surprise really, if Intelligence was involved.¡± Meeron lifted his head and looked towards the two Intelligence officers with a slight eye roll. Boro followed Meeron¡¯s gaze and found that for the first time, the two Humans were not looking ahead, but the one with the black eyes and long face was giving the one with the mismatched green eyes a hard inquiring look. Boro¡¯s stomach twisted, and as he approached Meeron, he kept one eye in their direction.


    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡± Boro asked, picking up the tablet from Meeron.


    ¡°Weights don¡¯t match on these. Here.¡± Meeron pointed to the displays.


    ¡°Looks like at least we got more instead of getting shortchanged.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, boss, but we should probably open it up anyway.¡±


    This was already taking longer than it needed to, but something that Boro would later attribute to his keen Commander senses told him that Meeron was right.


    ¡°Tuka, Ryo, do you mind holding off on the next crate while Meeron and I check this out?¡±


    The two maintenance crew workers were already inside the station releasing the maglev clamps on a crate to move it onto the gurney. This order, too, Boro eventually ascribed to a ¡®Stevin-ian¡¯ intuition that flowed through his blood.


    ¡°Commander Stevin,¡± said the Intelligence Officer with the ever-present pout, ¡°Is this really necessary? We¡¯re behind schedule as it is.¡±


    ¡°Your schedule is not my concern, Officer. This is coming aboard my ship, so we¡¯re going to do it my way.¡± Boro bent forward to help Meeron open the crate and caught movement from the corner of his eye. The next sequence of events happened so quickly that Boro would only be able to piece it together from security footage.


    As the lid of the crate Meeron and Boro were inspecting hissed open, the Intelligence officer with the black hair and eyes broke the stare she¡¯d previously fixed on her partner and vaulted over the side of the crate Tuka and Ryo were handling in order to get to its control panel. The Parsk Nahur, as ordered and without hesitation, fired twice at the Human. The first shot missed the mark, while the second one hit her in the chest right below the shoulder, though not before she managed to reach the crate¡¯s controls.


    Her partner though, the man with the green mismatched eyes and who had been closer to the crate, in an apparent attempt to finish the job, arrived at the panel and slammed his open palm against the crate¡¯s controls, a mere moment before the Parsk Nahur got another shot off and hit him in the arm. The crate was sent hurtling backwards into the depths of Yshot Station¡¯s cargo hold, pushing Tuka long with it. When it hit a stack of crates nearer to the back wall, it detonated. Boro had the presence of mind to order ¡°Get back!¡± the moment the crate started moving, which gave Ryo and the Parsk Nahur just enough time to return inside the Forseti before the shockwave hit them and sent them flying forward.


    The force of the explosion compromised the seal between ship and station. The loss of pressure jerked Boro forward as he tried to help the fallen Ryo, but the emergency seal kicked in before he was sucked into the hole that had formed between the Forseti and Yshot Station. The Forseti¡¯s loading door was having a rough time closing. Another explosion slammed against this side of the ship and shook the cargo hold, this blast likely coming from Yshot Station itself due to the damage it sustained from the exploding crate.


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    Boro lifted himself from the floor, his head ringing and his vision blurry. Somewhere to his right the Parsk Nahur had gotten up and was pointing the neural devastator at something Boro was unable to make out. He reached Ryo who was lying sprawled on the floor, his arm bent under him at an awkward angle, and found that that the maintenance worker was still breathing. The Forseti, he could feel, continued to list without power and another shudder went through it.


    Boro reached for his tablet and found it lacking, so he used a communication panel on the wall to call in an update.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got casualties down here, send any assistance you can.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± came the curt and strained reply from Surch.


    The pilot would later report to Boro what happened on the bridge when the initial explosion shook the ship. ¡°Detonation out of Yshot¡¯s hold,¡± Maggie announced, her voice to Surch sounding almost amused, like she was glad it had broken her out of her boredom. ¡°Contained in our cargo hold, retained with emergency membrane, no other hull breaches, but Yshot¡¯s coming part.¡± All of this was reported almost before Surch was back in the pilot¡¯s chair, just as the Techevers were designed for.


    As the engines came online, Surch struggled to pull the Forseti away from the station before another explosion from within Yshot rocked the ship. ¡°Minor engine damage and a near breach of the emergency membrane,¡± Maggie reported, trying to slow her speech down so that the bridge crew could keep up. ¡°You need to go easy on it Surch or the membrane might rupture.¡±


    ¡°Any easier and Yshot will ease us right out of existence.¡±


    ¡°Their power core is still stable. Yshot will hold for now. We might not.¡±


    To undermine Maggie¡¯s assertion, another piece of the Station blew and hit them with debris.


    It¡¯s this final blast that knocked the Forseti to a safer distance from the Station but that also resulted in the jamming of the cargo bay door, more than two thirds of the way to its destination.


    Maggie knew about this immediately of course, as Surch called in a moment later.


    ¡°Boro, we gotta get that door closed if we¡¯re getting out of here in a hurry.¡±


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m on it.¡± Boro grabbed onto the door¡¯s manual release, but here things were not so simple. Due to the damage to the membrane, the air immediately by the door was frigid and losing oxygen. Another pair of hands may have helped, but where was the Parsk Nahur when you needed him? It was Meeron who finally came to Boro¡¯s aid. The steward¡¯s impressive arms struggled only briefly with the mechanism before shutting the door.


    Boro should have told him to step back, should have seen what was coming next ¨C the part of the door that sharply descended, missing Meeron¡¯s head by a mere inch and then slamming into his thigh and knee before it fell into place with a definitive hiss. Meeron¡¯s blood had already started to pool under him as he clutched his leg, the deathly white of bone protruding from the wound when the ship¡¯s vibration changed. They were under full thrust now, though unable to start skimming subspace just yet.


    ?


    Help was coming, yet help should have already been more forthcoming. What had the Parsk Nahur been doing? Getting up from Meeron¡¯s aid, Boro looked back into the Forseti¡¯s cargo hold and realized what had been preoccupying the ship¡¯s weapon¡¯s officer this whole time. The Parsk Nahur stood aiming the neural devastator, at the end of which was their newest passenger ¨C the Intelligence officer with the mismatched green eyes.

 Chapter 10.4

    Boro tried to keep his upper body stiff as he shuffled from foot to foot. His collar felt tight and he wondered if the environmental systems were keeping up with this many people crammed all at once into a single space. For the first time since the Forseti had launched, he was in the same room as nearly the entire crew of the ship; the dozens of lives he was responsible for gathered only because he had failed one of them. That is how they saw it, he knew ¨C he was the senior officer in the cargo hold that day, and he knew what they were thinking when they saw him. They didn¡¯t have to say anything, not that they ever would.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time the ship he was serving on had lost one of its own. It was the first time though that it had happened so directly under his watch; a civilian, too, which didn¡¯t make things any better.


    The image of Tuka Rose was displayed on the screen at one end of the galley, smiling at those gathered with the innocence of not knowing what had transpired days earlier. The other screens that normally served as faux windows into a moving landscape had remained motionless. No video footage was available in the Forseti¡¯s database, so they instead showed still shots from Tuka¡¯s home planet ¨C a piddly world on the periphery near Winti space, rolling hills with bright yellow grasses against a sky that looked too blue.


    Nobody had known Tuka before his time on the Forseti, so the most time anyone had with him was the month they had been flying together, take away a few weeks in stasis. Meeron, who probably worked with Tuka the most, remained sitting with his leg wrapped in recovery bindings and his head a bit fuzzy from the pain suppressors, and did his best to describe an eager young man who was just happy to be here, who managed to brighten everyone else¡¯s day and not ask for anything in return. When it was Boro¡¯s turn to speak, he had little else to add, except with how he ended it: ¡°Tuka had died while serving his crew, his ship, and his people. Any of us should be so lucky for our death to have the same kind of meaning.¡± There were no nods of agreement, and with a ¡°Thank you, Commander¡± from Captain Pueson, Boro slid back into the crowd.


    Shortly afterwards, everyone dispersed. They¡¯d all been aware of the dangers. Now though, forced to face them head on when their mission had barely even begun, some were moving on better than others. He¡¯d said as much in his short speech, but Boro wondered whether there actually was any meaning to this death, or to any other, considering this part of the mission was supposed to have been a time for mundane travel through space, and also considering that anyone who would be truly affected by the young maintenance worker¡¯s death did not even realize that he would have already been in danger, and still did not know about his passing. They wouldn¡¯t learn of it for a long time, as the command crew had decided earlier that day that they would not be sending any news dispatches in the direction of Earth.


    Their original intent, before they had left the safety of Human Interstellar Dominion space, had been to avoid all incoming and outgoing transmissions throughout their journey, lest any intercepted messages comprise their mission. With the attempted destruction of the Forseti at Yshot Station, decisions needed to be made about the future of the mission, including whether to continue to maintain the established radio silence.


    Once Chief Engineer Aimi Ishikawa¡¯s team, two of whom were still recovering from concussion, got the subspace skimmer and engines functioning, they put a couple of lightyears between them and the damaged station, in case the explosions attracted any unwanted attention.


    Boro had been in medbay when Captain Pueson, Surch and Officer Meslina, still in her walking boot, came to see him, a few hours after the explosion and after the Forseti was moving again. Ryo was in the adjacent room, not in any immediate danger, according to Dr. Sufai, but not entirely out of the woods. The doctor was meanwhile in the other occupied room, operating on Meeron¡¯s leg with the assistance of Neelam Das, one of the few other crewmembers with any kind of medical training.


    ¡°Commander Stevin, it¡¯s good to see you¡¯re well enough to meet with us,¡± the Captain said entering Boro¡¯s room. Boro was already sitting up on the bed, even though Dr. Sufai said he should rest. He was not so incapacitated that he would be caught doing work lying down.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my first choice to be here, Captain,¡± Boro said, ¡°It¡¯s all precautionary, really.¡± He winced and grabbed the side of his head for a moment, slowly letting out his breath and looking back up at Pueson¡¯s imposing frame. Hamming up how much pain he was actually in, on the other hand, was not something Boro was above at all.


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    ¡°Easy Commander, there¡¯s no need to rush yourself,¡± Captain Pueson said with a magnanimously raised hand, ¡°We do however need to talk about where the mission goes from here.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, Captain?¡±


    Surch stepped forward, arms mostly crossed while his left hand stroked his bearded chin. ¡°Boro, the Captain believes that the covert nature of the mission has been compromised, and it may be too dangerous to continue.¡±


    ¡°Indario¡¯s preliminary findings indicated that this was not an accident,¡± the Captain continued. The Parsk Nahur better have found more than that ¨C any idiot could have figured that part out. ¡°The crate that Meeron had identified as suspicious was similarly equipped with an explosive and I¡¯m not sure the ship would have survived that detonation.¡±


    ¡°Why it didn¡¯t explode though, remains to be answered,¡± Surch said.


    ¡°As well as why it was two Human Intelligence officers that were supposed to make sure these bombs made it on board,¡± Meslina added, her face stern, dark eyes almost turned inward in thought or speculation.


    ¡°I think the fact that they¡¯re not actually with Intelligence is becoming fairly clear,¡± Boro said, wincing again, though not quite so dramatically as the previous time.


    ¡°But even if there was a security leak,¡± Surch said, ¡°I¡¯m not aware of any faction in the HID or the Outer Rim Confederacy that would have any interest in sabotaging this mission.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re assuming that because they¡¯re Human that they¡¯re working with other Humans,¡± Meslina said and Boro noticed that out of the other three, she was the only one standing straight and at attention despite her injured leg. ¡°Maybe this mission attracted more than one supposed traitor to their race.¡±


    ¡°Where was Mikarik during all of this, anyway?¡± Boro asked.


    ¡°Right here, according to Dr. Sufai,¡± Surch answered, ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any sense in exploring that path.¡±


    ¡°So why are we questioning the mission?¡± Boro asked, standing up and sucking air through his teeth while he closed his left eye, ¡°We survived. All the more reason to keep pushing ahead.¡±


    ¡°The whole point of this mission, Commander Stevin,¡± the Captain said patiently, ¡°Is that the Thorians don¡¯t know we¡¯re coming.¡±


    ¡°And as far as we know right now, they¡¯re not the ones behind this,¡± Boro protested.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Meslina said, ¡°But someone knows we¡¯re here, and we¡¯re not equipped to find out who that is. Unless,¡± she paused, turning her head to the Captain and waiting for him to acknowledge her before proceeding, ¡°We try to contact Intelligence ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I feel good breaking our ghost again,¡± Surch said, but Boro could feel the rising tone of hope in his voice, ¡°But I don¡¯t expect sending a message would be any worse that lighting up the entirety of Yshot Station.¡±


    Boro nodded.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t so far out of HID space that we couldn¡¯t tight-beam through one of our military satellites,¡± Meslina offered. ¡°There should be a few in range we could try.¡±


    ?


    These satellites floated under their own ghosts in interstellar space, and though whenever the Forseti pinged any message they risked discovery, the satellites were likely their best bet at getting a message back under the noses of anyone who may have been listening.


    ¡°It could be almost two more weeks before we hear anything back.¡± Boro was pacing the room by this point, forgetting the recurring head pains that he was supposed to have been having. ¡°Captain, I thought the Iastret and Intelligence were very clear we don¡¯t have those extra weeks.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Captain Pueson murmured, a sound that was supposed to have been contemplative but to Boro just sounded like a way to buy time while the hamster wheel in his skull spun out some kind of answer. ¡°We¡¯re no good to anyone if we don¡¯t make it to the Drain Vortex alive. I think in this case Officer Meslina and Lieutenant Guraty may be right. We can do a three- or four-day skim closer to the borders of the Empire and await our response there. That should also give us some time to ¡­ recover from this incident,¡± Pueson finished with a slightly awkward smile and a nod.


    ?


    ¡°I told you Captain,¡± Boro paused and brought his palm up to his temple, ¡°It¡¯s just precautionary, I¡¯ll be on the bridge in no time.¡±

 Chapter 10.5

    As promised, it had taken less than a day for Boro to return to bridge duty, happily still not inhabited by the Thorian, but just in time for Meslina to deliver a troubling report.


    ¡°We¡¯ve still not received anything from the satellite.¡±


    ¡°Were we supposed to?¡± Boro asked. ¡°I thought we wouldn¡¯t hear from HID Intelligence for at least another week?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said slowly, dropping her voice, ¡°I mean that the satellite itself is unresponsive. I should have received a ping if our message was relayed, but there¡¯s only silence.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Boro murmured loudly and walked over to Maggie¡¯s station. The Techever had always looked zoned-out when she was plugged in, but Boro had come to learn that she had the ability to be fully present in both worlds, regardless of perception. ¡°Are you getting anything, Maggie?¡±


    Her eyes darted back and forth before her, still staring past and above him, until she brought them back into focus on him and answered, ¡°No. Though it¡¯s small and ghosted and even with our long-range subspace sensors concentrated on its anticipated approximate location I wouldn¡¯t expect to see anything.¡±


    ¡°The ping¡¯s the only way of knowing it went through,¡± Meslina said behind him.


    ¡°Then we try again.¡±


    ¡°I have, no confirmation on that one yet. I also went ahead and targeted a further satellite. Anything beyond that and we risk not hitting it, or someone intercepting the message.¡±


    ¡°Focus on those two then, and let me know if anything comes back. Maybe when we¡¯re not moving we¡¯ll have better luck.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    On the morning of Tuka¡¯s memorial, after two days of sitting idle on the frontiers of the Thorian Empire, Captain Pueson made the call to abandon any further attempts to get their message back to the Human Interstellar Dominion. Both satellites remained silent, and no amount of scanning turned up even the slightest indication that they were actually there. Similarly, they could see no friendly ships anywhere within range, and there was nothing to suggest that anyone had bothered to investigate what happened to Yshot Station. On the other hand, there was growing evidence of distant Thorian activity, and after much pressure from Boro, the Captain agreed to resume the mission, which meant that nothing about the incident at the Iastret station would reach home for months, and no one in Tuka¡¯s family would know that his role in this undertaking was already over.


    It was a day that was destined to be sour, one that, at the moment of the imagined dawn on board the Forseti, had chosen to make miserable whoever dared live through it.


    The day of the memorial was also going to be the day that the Thorian started proving his utility to the ship and would join them on the bridge. Boro had to admit that if they¡¯d been properly prudent, Mikarik would have already been called in to advise on the Thorian activity they¡¯d picked up on their long-range sensors, but part of Boro was heartened to see that even Captain Pueson didn¡¯t appear to be in a rush to invite the arrogant bony-headed alien into their presence. Still, he would not put it past Pueson to make too big of a deal of the Thorian joining them, possibly a stunted stumbling speech about the possibilities of cooperation even between the unlikeliest of allies. Nothing Boro wanted to be present for, so he took several detours after leaving the memorial before finally heading to the bridge.


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    According to the window screens that lined the hallways of the Forseti, today they were flying over something Boro could recognize ¨C his own home planet, Earth, the cradle of the Human species. There was no strange vegetation, or impossible rocky outcroppings, or a shade of sky that gave just that uncanny feeling that this was not where he was born. As far as he could tell, they were soaring over the west coast of the northern Aremiga continent, one of the areas hardest hit during the Great Fire and that remained sparsely populated even to this day, lying across the entire Mer Pacific from where he was born and raised.


    By the time Boro reached the bridge, the Thorian was already there, standing just behind Captain Pueson and reading some displays over his shoulder. What had Intelligence intended to be their end game here? If the Forseti survived the entirety of its mission, what would they do with the Thorian to ensure that he wouldn¡¯t immediately run back to the Empire and reveal everything he¡¯d learned? They must have had some kind of retirement plan in mind; one with limited freedom that did not quite amount to imprisonment. This wasn¡¯t Boro¡¯s problem to solve, and certainly not right there and then.


    ¡°Mr. Mikarik,¡± Boro said curtly.


    The Thorian turned slowly, cracking the faintest of smiles. ¡°Commander Stevin. I hope you had a restful sleep.¡±


    Ten years of sleep wouldn¡¯t have been enough to prepare him to work alongside the smug bumpy-headed bastard.


    ¡°So where has our guide guided us to today?¡± Boro asked instead, making sure to put just the right tone of derision on ¡®guide¡¯.


    ¡°Mikarik has advised us that we need a two-day detour in order to avoid the Thorian activity we¡¯d been monitoring,¡± Captain Pueson said.


    ¡°Two days?¡± Boro tried to stifle his incredulity, keeping a straight back to appear at least somewhat comparable to the Thorian in height. ¡°His first hour advising us and we¡¯re already changing course that would delay our mission by another two days? And I didn¡¯t think we could afford much more lost time.¡±


    ?


    The Captain did not look entirely pleased with Boro¡¯s outburst but did not get a chance to voice his objection as the Thorian stepped in to interrupt. ¡°Well, Commander Stevin, I may not know too much about your ghosting technology in particular, but in my experience the more ships there are that could triangulate your position based on the little energy distortions you inevitably leave, the worse shape you¡¯re in. And that,¡± he motioned at the display he and Pueson were studying, the string of yellow blobs almost connecting at the side of the screen, ¡°is a formidable amount of navy ships.¡±

 Chapter 10.6

    ¡°How sure are you they¡¯re military?¡± Boro asked Mikarik, who was still absorbed in the screen he was studying with Pueson, ¡°They could be an Anthar Kai convoy beefed up to withstand pirate attacks.¡±


    ¡°Maggie, can you pull up those readings?¡± Mikarik asked, taking a few steps closer to the wall-to-wall display at the head of the bridge. What was this first name familiarity the Thorian now had with some of the bridge crew, Boro wondered. He now lamented that Meslina did not manage to cave Mikarik¡¯s skull in, though he wasn¡¯t sure if even that could put a Thorian in their place.


    The curved display, which in the middle of battle was capable of projecting a spherical representation of the space surrounding the Forseti, now displayed an array of numbers. It was gibberish to the untrained eye ¨C piecemeal energy readouts that the long-range sensors could pick up. In capable hands though, it could provide much information about the starships being observed.


    ¡°I am a pilot, Commander Stevin.¡± Mikarik said and Boro noted the use of the present tense, ¡°I¡¯ve spent my life identifying vessels, particularly Thorian ones.¡±


    ¡°More mixed results with Mraboran ones,¡± Boro suggested, reminding Mikarik of the humanitarian ship he helped shoot down during the Nabak Insurrection. The Thorian ignored him, taking another step towards the numbers.


    ¡°No, even accounting for pirate hunter escorts, this can¡¯t be a commercial convoy. These are definitely navy starships.¡±


    ¡°So what is this concentration of navy ships doing way out here?¡± Boro asked.


    ¡°That,¡± the Thorian paused, his eyes scanning the numbers on the display, ¡°Is something that I can¡¯t actually help you with. It¡¯s an odd place to hold war games and ¡­ there¡¯s something else about these numbers that¡¯s not quite right, but I can¡¯t put my finger on it.¡±


    ¡°Mikarik, we need more than just a hunch to go on,¡± Captain Pueson said, the sternness lost in the general softness of his voice.


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t get me wrong, we should still steer clear of this ¡­ mess,¡± Mikarik said. ¡°The systems we¡¯re going through are at a decent distance from usual military patrols and preferred Anthar Kai shipping lanes. We should be safe enough, and can get mostly back on course when we¡¯ve cleared the swarm.¡±


    ¡°The swarm,¡± Meslina repeated from her station, shaking her head, and Boro thought he caught a bit of an eye roll. The Thorian though seemed undeterred, only creeping ever closer to the display, craning his neck more and more to see the full list.


    ¡°Yes, something¡¯s definitely odd,¡± he trailed off towards the end, the last word barely audible, and then the display went blank and he turned around with an ¡°oh.¡± His tone indicated mild surprise, though his eyes were frustratingly difficult to see behind those darkened lenses.


    ¡°I think we got everything we need for now, Mikarik,¡± Captain Pueson said, ¡°We¡¯ll see you again in ten hours, or if there¡¯s anything unusual about ¡­¡± Pueson cleared his throat, ¡°The swarm.¡± This elicited a small smile from Meslina, which is about the most one could expect from her.


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    ¡°Very well,¡± Mikarik said after a pause. ¡°Just make sure you keep a close eye on it. These Thorians,¡± he smirked, ¡°They¡¯re an exceedingly clever lot.¡±


    There was no reaction to Mikarik¡¯s quip except stony silence and perhaps a look of patronizing amusement from the Captain ¨C something Boro was pleasantly surprised Pueson was actually capable of. The Captain¡¯s actual retort was an order given to the ship¡¯s weapons officer, ¡°Indario, please help escort Mikarik from the bridge.¡±


    The Thorian lowered his eyebrows, his mouth crooked with an uncertain grimace. ¡°I think I know the way out, Indario,¡± he said, but the Parsk Nahur had already moved towards him. Mikarik breathed in deeply, though he tried to hide it. ¡°Alright, if you think I¡¯ll get lost on the way to the door, we can do it your way.¡±


    As soon as the door closed behind Mikarik and Indario, Boro walked with heavy steps down to Surch¡¯s seat.


    ¡°What do we know about the area he¡¯s leading us through?¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Boro?¡± Surch asked, with a sigh pulling out the tablet inserted into his pilot¡¯s chair. ¡°It¡¯s mostly uninhabitable rocks, one of which is a failed Iastret terraforming effort that had been quarantined.¡± Surch scrolled through the rest of the information on his display and gave it a gentle slap with his palm. ¡°Most interesting thing here is a tiny Anthar Kai outpost hardly even worth a mention.¡±


    Boro murmured a long ¡°hmmm.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything specifically you¡¯re concerned about, Commander Stevin?¡± Captain Pueson asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that ¡­¡± Boro paused, putting his hands on his hips and facing the rest of the bridge crew that stood slightly above him. ¡°Is anyone else reminded of the story of Yanus Susin?¡±


    Captain Pueson frowned while Surch let out a slight groan. No one though had voiced their agreement.


    ¡°Have you all heard of the story?¡± Boro asked. He¡¯d personally been told it since childhood ¨C a tale of false betrayal and sacrifice for the good of one¡¯s people in the face of an invading foe, but wondered if others had the same childhood fable in their repertoire.


    The others nodded, with Meslina adding a curt ¡°yes¡± and Surch a relaxed ¡°sure have¡±. That was too bad, since Boro found his own rendition to be quite rousing. Then Maggie Okoth, the ship¡¯s Techever, who was so in tune with the ship¡¯s computer that when she was plugged in it was almost as if her own presence had been subsumed into the ship, stepped back into their real world and said, ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Surch muttered behind Boro, who ignored him in the face of this new potential audience.


    ?


    ¡°I want to hear it,¡± Maggie assured him, the interlink tubes that connected her hand to the machine slipping out of the holes in her console and retreating to their resting spot inside her fingers.

 Chapter 10.7

    ¡°This one dates all the way back to the Great Fire,¡± Boro started, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one foot. ¡°They say it all began with an alien invasion ¨C a great attack force bent on destroying Humankind and taking Earth for its own. On their way to our homeworld though, the invaders¡¯ first stop was the proto-colony on Mars ¨C long before we¡¯d terraformed it. Yanus Susin was the leader of the colony at the time, one of the first second-generation Martians, and he was brought before the alien admiral in charge of the invasion fleet and offered a deal. If Yanus assisted them with the invasion, told the aliens the best place to strike against Earth and how, they would leave their puny little colony in peace. Yanus had thought long and hard and with a heavy heart agreed to the aliens¡¯ demands. He was taken aboard their flagship, and he directed them to the continent of Aremiga, convincing the aliens that little of the Earth mattered outside of it, and if they struck at the heart of Aremiga, the planet would fall easily.¡±


    Boro paused there, letting this supposed betrayal of Humanity linger in his audience¡¯s mind, and then moved on. ¡°What the aliens didn¡¯t know; however, was that Yanus had instructed his family to signal ahead and warn the residents of Aremiga of the coming invasion and of Yanus¡¯s planned betrayal, not of them, but of the invaders.¡± It had been impossible to read Maggie¡¯s expression, eyes almost vacant, a vague smile on her lips, but she was watching him, and nodded slightly. ¡°So Yanus Susin directed the invaders to land on the great mostly-empty plains of the Aremiga continent. These aliens though, they weren¡¯t stupid. They questioned why they could see plenty of populated centres elsewhere while Yanus was leading them down to a place where few seemed to live. Yanus was a humble and charming leader of his people, and knew how to build trust. He convinced them that the bulk of Human civilization, the ones that were particularly advanced, moved to live in a grand underground city to hide from the worsening weather on the surface. He¡¯d explained to the them that their numbers were so great, the only way the aliens could win is they would land their entire invasion force there and surround the underground Humans.¡± Boro smiled then, as if Yanus¡¯ success and his wit were somehow his own.


    ¡°So there it was, the entire alien fleet, a veritable armada that had briefly blotted out the sky,¡± Boro made a vast gesture with his arm over his head, ¡°And they had landed in the middle of an empty plain. Their ships touched down, their troops began to disembark, and Yanus was pushed ahead to find the location of the entrance to one of the secret underground tunnels. Yanus felt no fear. He had, ever since he agreed to leave Mars and guide the aliens, known that this would be his end. He was merely guiding the invaders to an end he had chosen for himself. For he also knew the strength of the people of Aremiga. They used to be his people ¨C brave enough to venture to new planets and to do anything it took to save theirs. At the moment the last invading ship touched down, the full ordinance of the Aremiga continent descended on those plains. Yanus looked up in the sky and smiled as he saw the hundred trails of smoke approach from the distance. In a single day, the entire invading fleet and the continent were destroyed so that Earth could rebuild among the ashes and move on, free of the yoke of alien oppressors.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s quite the story,¡± Maggie said when he finished.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? Who knows if it¡¯s true, of course, but where I come from, there¡¯s a common saying whenever someone¡¯s leading you somewhere and it looks like they might be lost, you ask them ¡®Where are you taking us, Yanus Susin¡¯?¡± Boro thought the Techever would at least be amused by this, but she had merely nodded her head a couple of times and said, ¡°Oh I¡¯ve heard it before.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hear the story, Commander Stevin,¡± she answered, ¡°I wanted to hear your version of the story. You can tell a lot about a story from the different versions that people have, and you can tell a lot about a person about the version that they choose to tell.¡±


    Boro felt his ears grow hot and a rising pressure behind his left eye. Maggie, meanwhile held his gaze and then she did that thing that always gave Boro the heebie-jeebies, where she¡¯d throw the interface wires from underneath her fingernails a few inches out of her hand and then suck them up again, her smile fading and face hardening while she did it.


    ¡°Does your family have roots in Aremiga, Commander?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Boro answered, not sure what this had anything to do with the story of Yanus Susin, ¡°One branch on my mother¡¯s side.¡±


    ¡°You can always tell if someone hails from Aremiga,¡± Maggie Okoth said, and then when Boro was silent, added, ¡°One can always tell.¡± Unphased by the number of perplexed eyes that were staring at her, the Techever said nothing for a few moments before plugging herself back into her console and saying, ¡°Anyway, I better keep an eye on things here, in case something goes wrong.¡±


    ¡°Yes, in case our own little Thorian Yanus Susin leads us astray,¡± Surch said with a grin.


    ?


    Boro knew Surch said it merely in jest, but it served a purpose in any case. Thanks to Maggie, Boro had almost forgotten what it was that prompted him to mention the story in the first place. At least with the ship¡¯s pilot swooping in to close the loop, Boro hoped that the requisite seeds of doubt would be planted in the minds of the rest of the bridge crew.

 Chapter 10.8

    Boro found that in his experience, rules were not only the best prophylactic against chaos, but also one of its insidious causes. Where a complete lack of rules was a recipe for inevitable anarchy, a blind adherence to rules against all reason was an impediment to progress. And it seemed to him that no one fit that latter bill better than ship or station doctors. The Forseti¡¯s doctor was no exception. Although the crew for a week now had in its custody a dangerous terrorist that attempted to destroy the ship, neither Boro, nor anyone else on the command staff had been able to gain any access to him.


    The reason for this was Dr. Sufai; and the fact that of the survivors, the fake Intelligence officer had been closest to the blast and suffered greatly in the explosion. Shortly after his admittance to the medbay, Boro was informed that there would be no access to the prisoner, or as Sufai was sure to remind them at any opportunity, the patient, until he recovered sufficiently to be able to take visitors. When Boro explained that they would not be visitors, but rather, interrogators who needed to get to the bottom of who was behind the attempted sabotage of the mission and therefore, by extension, an attempt on the doctor¡¯s own life, Dr. Sufai retorted that she wasn¡¯t sure how that was any better and said that she would call them down when the time was right and not a minute sooner.


    If it were up to him, Boro would make sure that every chief medical officer would have to spend a year in ship¡¯s command before being handed their first doctor commission, in order to learn what it was like to make hard decisions in the face of Hippocratic obstinance.


    A full week this charade of rules and procedures persisted, but now Boro had received the long-awaited call, and attended at the medbay himself.


    ¡°How is our prisoner doing?¡± he asked without pausing for greetings. His hands itched to get at this traitor, even though Boro knew he was forgetting himself.


    ¡°My patient is doing better, Commander,¡± Dr. Sufai said, walking out of her office and placing herself conveniently between Boro and the room where the prisoner was kept.


    ¡°I thought since he¡¯s all better now he¡¯s no longer your patient.¡± Boro meant this as a joke, but Dr. Sufai showed no intention of laughing.


    ¡°My patient is not fully recovered,¡± she said, ¡°Once he is, you can move him to the brig and call him whatever you want. While he¡¯s here, he¡¯s a patient.¡±


    ¡°Well depending on how this goes, maybe he¡¯ll stay a patient a while longer,¡± Boro said, cracking some knuckles on his left hand.


    ¡°Is this supposed to reassure me about allowing you to talk to him?¡± Again, he had said it in jest but the doctor chose to take him completely seriously.


    ¡°No, Ory,¡± Boro said while trying to soften his tone, ¡°But it was intended to make me feel better about having aboard my ship someone who would betray his own kind.¡±


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    ¡°Actually,¡± the doctor¡¯s face changed ¨C the severe brow smoothing, ¡°That¡¯s not entirely true.¡±


    No, this was too much, Boro thought. He¡¯d seen the tapes, he¡¯d read the reports ¨C no, he¡¯d written the reports because he was there ¨C there was nothing this medic could tell him about his understanding of the incident that would make him think he was wrong about the man¡¯s intention. But, never minding all of that, he was going to remain professional.


    ¡°Which part?¡± Boro asked, jaw tight.


    ¡°The being Human part. He is ¡­ not entirely so.¡±


    Boro wasn¡¯t sure he quite heard right ¨C there were so many headcases on this ship that seemed to want to mess with him for sport ¨C but Dr. Sufai looked entirely genuine.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Boro asked cautiously.


    ¡°Come see this.¡± The doctor turned towards her office and Boro followed her in. ¡°When he first arrived in here, his wounds were quite bad,¡± Dr. Sufai explained as she pulled up whatever she intended to show him on her computer. ¡°The rate at which he healed though, well, it was unusual enough that it made me dig further. And here¡¯s what I found.¡±


    On the computer was displayed what appeared to be the stereotypical double helix of DNA, with several regions highlighted in bright blue.


    ¡°He¡¯s Human on the outside, and as far as I can tell he¡¯s Human on the inside. But looking deeper into his DNA, you could see there¡¯s something that isn¡¯t right. The DNA is, again, Human, but there are markers, dummy sequences that don¡¯t do anything, everywhere where they don¡¯t belong, and all sharing similarities that I can¡¯t explain. It¡¯s like someone had taken whatever DNA was there and rewritten it to be Human.¡±


    ¡°Who would have the technology to do something like this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯m willing to guess not even the Thorians.¡±


    Boro looked over his shoulder but there was no direct line of sight to their prisoner. ¡°So what is he then?¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s the thing, isn¡¯t it? Really, he¡¯s Human. It¡¯s what he used to be that¡¯s the real question.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if I can get some answers, then.¡± Boro was nearly fully out the door of the doctor¡¯s tiny office when he heard her say, ¡°Uh, Commander?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s required to have two people present at the interrogation.¡±


    Not this again. There was an abom freak masquerading as a Human in their medbay in the middle of hostile territory and they were counting how many people were in the room with him.


    ¡°So? You¡¯re welcome to join me.¡±


    ¡°I am joining you ¨C the doctor also has to be present while the patient remains a patient, you need someone else.¡±


    Incredible, it was like everyone on board this ship was hell-bent on getting killed except himself.


    ?


    ¡°I suppose the Captain would be willing to join us in a bit.¡± Captain Pueson was the last person Boro wanted down there ¨C another slave to a rule book written by those without ambition, but including two officers without the Captain would have been bad optics.

 Chapter 10.9

    Captain Timofie Pueson took his time getting down to medbay, arriving with a sidearm neural devastator gun ¨C not the best aim though effective in closed quarters, and entirely unnecessary given the restraints the prisoner found himself in. Boro immediately had Dr. Sufai brief Pueson on her discovery.


    ¡°This is troubling,¡± the Captain said, staring at the image of the double helix like he could actually understand something within it, ¡°If the Thorians or even the Hatvan have access to this kind of technology ¡­ there could be others like him anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Well, now we also have access to this technology,¡± Boro nodded in the direction of the prisoner¡¯s room. ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t take much to reverse engineer whatever has been done to him.¡±


    The doctor shifted uneasily in her seat as he said this. Ory Sufai would clearly be of no help in this endeavour, but once they delivered the prisoner back into Human Interstellar Dominion hands, there might be some progress.


    ¡°No sense in wasting any more time,¡± the Captain said, ¡°Doctor, are we able to see the prisoner now?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s conscious and restrained, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± she said and then followed them out of her office. Boro noted that she did not correct the Captain on his use of the word ¡®prisoner¡¯ as she led them to his holding room, and opened the door for them.


    The fake Intelligence officer lay on the bed, his feet, hands and chest all held down, staring up into the ceiling, looking every bit disturbingly Human.


    As they walked into his field of vision, he turned his head, his pale green eyes focusing, the larger one opening as if in surprise while the smaller one lagged behind.


    ¡°Ah, visitors,¡± he said, ¡°And here I thought that the good doctor was the only one left aboard this ship.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not visitors,¡± Boro corrected, lacking any interest in humoring another basket case, ¡°This is Captain Timofie Pueson and I¡¯m sure you know who I am.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Commander Stevin, of course. I hear you were very brave during the whole ordeal, you should be very proud of yourself. Though I¡¯m sorry about the loss of that young man. He struck me as someone who would not pick a flower but admire it more than someone who would.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Boro growled quietly in response. Reverse engineering be damned ¨C best course of action was clearly to stuff him in an airlock.


    Captain Pueson, before stepping closer to loom over the prisoner, shot his Second-in-Command a look but Boro ignored it. ¡°We need to know who sent you,¡± the Captain said. ¡°Who else knows about this mission?¡±


    ¡°Your eyes, Commander,¡± the prisoner continued, ignoring the Captain¡¯s question. ¡°They¡¯re very dark. But the darkness there contained, is multitudinous.¡± That answer, combined with the look in those mismatched green eyes that made it seem like their prisoner wanted to reach out and gently caress Boro¡¯s face was unsettling, so Boro stepped in with his own query. ¡°What are you? We know you¡¯re not Human, so what were you originally?¡±


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    ¡°Captain. Captain Pueson. Captain Timofie Pueson. I can feel what you¡¯re thinking. Not everything, not all of it, but some of it comes out, spills out of your mouth and your eyes, even your skin. When I¡¯m this close, I can actually sense the pinprick that is you, among all the noise. Same with you, Commander, and you, Doctor.¡±


    The words he spoke were disturbing enough in their own right, but it was something about the way he was speaking, so soothing and almost comforting, that it touched something inside Boro that he did not need anyone¡¯s hands on. His throat tightened at this and the room started to feel too small.


    ¡°Stop avoiding our questions and spewing gibberish,¡± Boro warned, though somehow he knew that it wasn¡¯t gibberish at all.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just fascinated. My progenitor has certainly interacted with Humans before but my personal iteration has not.¡±


    ¡°Who is the ¡®progenitor¡¯?¡± The Captain asked and his voice seemed to quaver, more so than Boro thought it usually did. The Doctor just kept her distance and Boro wondered how many of these conversations she¡¯d already had with the green-eyed alien. ¡°Is the progenitor who sent you to destroy the Forseti?¡±


    ¡°Sent me to destroy? I guess ¡­¡± the prisoner¡¯s mismatched eyes unfocused for a second, one briefly staring off into an independent direction from the other, ¡°I guess that¡¯s why I was sent, but not what I was sent for.¡±


    ¡°Are you trying to deny that you and your co-conspirator tried to set off an explosive on our ship?¡± Boro asked, and almost took a step backwards when the prisoner turned his head in his direction and pointed those green eyes straight through him, his mouth slightly open in what looked like confusion.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true though, is it, Commander? Surely you must have seen some security tapes. I was the one who saved the Forseti. Humans are our people, not like with that other one. I don¡¯t know if she survived, but if she did, I recommend she not be allowed to do so for much longer. But in any case, I said too much already. Always with our progenitor, we have this problem, never anyone else it seems.¡±


    Boro had of course seen the tapes, had watched on repeat that split second where he¡¯d lost control, where the green-eyed fake Intelligence officer lunged for the controls of the crate and managed to reach them, because it was his dark-eyed partner that had been marked by the Parsk Nahur as the first to get shot. Boro had assumed that the reason the crate ended up lurching backwards into Tuka instead forwards into the Forseti, was because the prisoner had made an error. Boro was not ready though to consider that the words of the disguised alien were the truth and that the crate was launched away from the ship intentionally. Especially since Boro had not alluded to this potential version of events in any of his reports.

 Chapter 10.10

    Captain Pueson stepped away from the prisoner towards the corner of the room, forcing the other two to follow, and then asked in a hushed voice, ¡°Is this true, Commander? Is it possible that our prisoner ensured that the explosive device in that crate did not come aboard the Forseti?¡±


    Boro¡¯s throat was still tight, and now it was dry to boot. ¡°It¡¯s within the realm of possibilities based on what we¡¯ve seen,¡± he said acidly, ¡°But there¡¯s no reason why we should believe it.¡±


    ¡°What about the unexploded device?¡± Captain Pueson asked. ¡°Could that be linked somehow?¡±


    ¡°Something to consider,¡± Boro answered in a strained voice.


    ¡°Doctor, has he always talked like this?¡± the Captain asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s been going on like that since he regained consciousness yesterday,¡± Dr. Ory Sufai answered, her voice entering a higher register that did not reflect her age, ¡°I¡¯ve tried to ignore it, but that hasn¡¯t stopped him.¡±


    ¡°Oh it¡¯s so nice to hear the murmur of your voices.¡± The prisoner¡¯s head lay flat and facing up, though his eyes were now closed. ¡°It¡¯s such a lovely song. Full of emotion and sorrow and love, an undeniable soul at the core of it all. A tender, real soul.¡±


    His eyes remained closed as the three Forseti crewmembers returned to his bedside, the faintest smile on his face, something about it vaguely uncanny, as if the primitive stem at the core of Boro¡¯s brain could sense that something was wrong with the creature on an unseen level.


    ¡°If you¡¯re telling the truth, that you tried to save the ship,¡± Captain Pueson said, though if it were up to Boro, this ludicrous possibility would not even be entertained, ¡°Then who was the one who tried to destroy it?¡±


    ¡°The other one, of course. She¡¯s got no connection to us. That is, it¡¯s her progenitor that doesn¡¯t. Her progenitor and ours well, they don¡¯t see eye to eye,¡± he smiled gently then, a completely unnerving gesture, ¡°That¡¯s between us though, it¡¯s nothing you need to concern yourselves about.¡±


    Captain Pueson¡¯s large round face loomed over their nameless prisoner, his mouth opened slightly as it always did when the Captain¡¯s mind was churning particularly thorny thoughts, but the expression in those mismatched green eyes remained placid, perceiving no danger and seeming to not even scratch the surface of the serious situation he found himself in. If it weren¡¯t for the Captain and the Doctor, Boro would surely have been able to find a way to snap his attention back from whatever clouds it had found itself in. All Boro had at his disposal though were words.


    ¡°I think when our ship is almost destroyed that gives us plenty of reason to be concerned,¡± Boro said.


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m sorry. When all you hear is the whole of you, that beautiful mass that is you, it¡¯s sometimes hard to remember the little pinpricks that come together.¡± The doctor silently pushed between Boro and Captain Pueson, and leaned in to raise the black arc of the medical scanner over the prisoner.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.¡°What are you ¨C¡± Boro began to ask but Dr. Sufai interrupted. ¡°Just keep him talking.¡±


    The prisoner didn¡¯t seem to mind this, his green eyes briefly flitting to the scanner in curiosity and then turning back to Boro.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that young man,¡± the prisoner said, ¡°I really am. I realize that life can be so fragile when you¡¯re all alone. But, you should be safe now. We¡¯re the only ones they sent. They thought it would be different this time. But as you can see, it wasn¡¯t. I thought I could do it, but when I saw you there, when your voices emerged from the crowd and I finally lain my own two eyes upon your magnificence, I couldn¡¯t do it. Not sure if my progenitor would be displeased or happy with that. But you get to continue and I think that counts for something, so that I may hear your beautiful song.¡±


    Honeyed words, to be sure, but ones that gave Boro no comfort. He felt instead that continued sensation that they had somehow touched him, in ways that were not appropriate, and made him want to throw up. He stepped away and through the door to the main part of the medbay, with Captain Pueson and Dr. Sufai following.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, Captain,¡± Boro said lowering his head, in an attempt to signal to the Doctor that she was excluded from this part of the conversation, ¡°But I¡¯m not entirely reassured by those ravings.¡±


    ¡°I hear you Commander, but we¡¯re well on our way and I don¡¯t see how it would make a difference now one way or another.¡± Captain Pueson looked towards their prisoner, who was now contentedly staring up into the blackness of the scanner hanging over his head. ¡°If there¡¯s others like him out there, they¡¯ll be hard-pressed to find us.¡±


    ¡°Unless the technology that lets them create that can also see right through our ghost.¡±


    ¡°Best not to worry yourself with that, I think, Boro.¡± The Captain, in one of his rare instances of first-name address, put his hand on Boro¡¯s shoulder and gave it a slight shake. ¡°Besides, a few months by himself in the brig, maybe he¡¯ll change his mind about how much he¡¯s willing to share. Doctor, I want him out of here and transferred into the brig as soon as you believe it appropriate.¡± They both then turned to the Doctor, who was regarding them with a cool even expression, her hands in front of her, the fingers of one wrapped around the thumb of the other. ¡°Once he¡¯s well enough, please contact Indario and they will provide the appropriate escort.¡±


    Boro did not entirely believe that the Doctor would be willing to give their prisoner the proper bill of health when the time came, but still she answered with a ¡°Yes, Captain,¡± and a nod that involved mostly her eyes.


    ¡°In the meantime,¡± the Captain continued, ¡°See if you can uncover anything else about ¡­¡± he paused, took a few steps towards the door of the prisoner¡¯s room and asked, ¡°Do you have a name, by any chance?


    ?


    ¡°A name? No, I don¡¯t, or ¡­,¡± the prisoner lifted his chin so he could look in Captain Pueson¡¯s direction, ¡°Not in the sense that you understand them, but if it helps, you may call me Isht.¡±

 Chapter 11.1

    Angzal


    One would think that with everyone now well fed, and on the Mraboran Protectorate¡¯s dime to boot, the talks would resume in a more orderly fashion, but Congressmember Frances Reyes of Earth had different ideas.


    ¡°You do realize, Congressmember Ferrety, that it¡¯s your children that would be sent to die in this conflict?¡± she asked before anyone even had a chance to settle back into their seats in the small conference room on one of the top floors of the consulate building.


    Straight to dead children, Angzal thought; Reyes really didn¡¯t have a pause button. Gord Ferrety, one of the members of the Human Interstellar Dependency Congress who represented Mars, did not skip a beat in the face of the sudden challenge.


    ¡°Yes, I realize the colonies have a more disproportionate uptake into the HID and ORC navies, but it¡¯s due entirely to desperation. You¡¯re citing the problem itself to undermine the solution to it.¡±


    Problem. Solution. Got it. Angzal hoped that Rzena was taking better notes than she was.


    This was the second day of the discussions between the two Human Congressmembers and Angzal¡¯s final chance to prove herself and possibly avoid being shipped off to an even more remote and irrelevant rock, though such a bleak place was difficult to imagine. The Human Interstellar Dominion Congress was taking its vote tomorrow ¨C on whether to approve both the intervention by the HID fleet, and by the fleet of the Outer Rim Confederacy which the Humans were a part of, in the current situation developing around Krevali, the pre-space-age world that the Thorian Empire recently conquered.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the one proposing to douse flames with gasoline, thinking it¡¯ll work just because it¡¯s a liquid,¡± Reyes continued, and Angzal wished the Congressmember could sit in her chair for longer than a few seconds at a time. ¡°If this blows up into another Last Gasp, and no one should be putting it past the Thorians, it could tie up our fleet for a decade. It would be our periphery worlds that would be most vulnerable to pirates filling that vacuum.¡±


    ¡°The pirates haven¡¯t been a significant issue for years,¡± Congressmember Ferrety replied with a patience that seemed almost admirable to Angzal, ¡°The continuing poverty and resource scarcity on the other hand ¡­¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t be improved by this war no matter what you¡¯ve led yourself to believe.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t write this off as simple-minded belief, Congressmember.¡± Ferrety¡¯s mouth, which seemed to have a constant pucker about it, took on the form of a pout whenever he was especially displeased with what Reyes was saying. ¡°I know even for you it¡¯s tempting to think of us colonists as simple-minded rockhoppers that need the wise citizens of Earth to tell us what¡¯s good for us. But believe me when I say there¡¯s a lot of sentiment out there that Earth needs to do more to make Human worlds more relevant in the Known Reaches, or they will continue to languish like irrelevant, well, ¡®rocks¡¯.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    He said this calmly, almost kindly, projecting the very model of the provincial politician, with nothing but love for his neighbours and boundless hospitality for strangers. Angzal wondered how much of this was an act.


    ¡°You¡¯re from Mars, Ferrety. You can hardly describe yourself as being out in the boondocks. Only thing closer to Earth is Luna. And don¡¯t think I¡¯ve forgotten how much of our shipbuilding gets done on Mars. I¡¯m sure this kind of foolish crusade would do wonders for your economy.¡±


    Congressmember Ferrety¡¯s puckered lips seemed to project themselves further from his face as he regarded Reyes with his small black eyes. He had surely known this accusation was coming; even Rzena was helpful enough to provide this background to Angzal ahead of time. But talking to Frances Reyes was like drinking from a fire hose ¨C an overwhelmingly difficult task even if you were dying of thirst.


    Reyes was one of the most vocal supporters of the non-interventionist position and by extension, despite being born and raised on Earth, was a great champion for the HID colonies, who generally preferred Earth stay out of interplanetary politics and stick to supporting its own worlds. Reyes advocated the idea that not only was it inappropriate for Humans, a race that were relative newcomers to space travel, to be involved in conflicts between other races, but also that it was incumbent on well-established and well-resourced races, like Angzal¡¯s Mraboran, to act as the mediators, and where necessary, police.


    Congressmember Ferrety of Mars, on the other hand, was a spokesperson for a relatively small group of HID colonies that believed a more proactive Earth would attract more economic interest from the Known Reaches to some of the HID¡¯s periphery worlds. Between Reyes¡¯ and Ferrety¡¯s factions, the entire vote hung in the balance, and Angzal¡¯s career along with it.


    The Mraboran Ambassador¡¯s instructions to Angzal were quite clear ¨C facilitate the discussions between Reyes and Ferrety to ensure that the vote carries, that the Human and ORC fleets are dispatched to meddle in the situation around Krevali, and take any heat off the Mraboran themselves. They had been at these discussions for all of the previous day and also all of that morning, and with the vote looming tomorrow, Angzal¡¯s tail pulled with anxiety at the leather bindings that kept it strapped close to her body.


    ¡°Every well-resourced older colony has some kind of hand in supplying ships for our space fleet, Congressmember,¡± Ferrety said, his fingers lying on top of the conference table while his thumbs dug impatiently into its side, ¡°Surely you don¡¯t mean to dismiss all of us due to these economic realities? The ships we end up building and providing crews for, once this is all over ¨C they will return to patrol our own borders in greater numbers. We can ensure that HID and ORC sovereignty is defended, and anyone would have second thoughts about pushing us around, whether it be pirates, the Thorians, Hatvan or Mraboran.¡± He held Reyes¡¯ gaze and after a few moments, turned towards Angzal and Rzena. ¡°No offence meaning, of course.¡±


    Angzal showed her right hand, palm up and with no visible claws, as a gesture of goodwill.

 Chapter 11.2

    Angzal had met Congressmember Gord Ferrety upon his arrival from Mars two delays earlier , since her duties apparently now included a pickup service at the Malbur spaceport. It was, as Angzal had been told, one of the busiest spaceports on Earth, but coming back for the first time since herself arriving here by orbital shuttle a month earlier, she couldn¡¯t get over how small it seemed. Passengers arrived mostly like herself ¨C descending from the orbital transfer station where large vessels docked to avoid the costs and hassles of atmospheric entry. Ships that were capable of coming down to the surface were also present here, but none of the kind of traffic she was used to ¨C places where one could look up into the sky and pretend they were at the centre of a swarm of insects.


    It reminded her of the beach that was across the street from her office, and one that she¡¯d sometimes come down to after a busy day of work. The waves there would break a few feet out into the water, white churn that agitated the sand splashing a few inches up her calf and maybe even up to her knee. And then there were the gentle waves that lapped against the sand, quietly sinking into it and then retreating. This is where she was, the planetary equivalent of the dampened sand at the furthest threshold where the water could touch, the rumble of the waves but a distant sound that hardly rose up over the background noise.


    Gord Ferrety had neatly fit into her conception of Humanity¡¯s place in the Known Reaches, arriving as one of a thousand passengers that were brought down in an orbital transport from the transfer station, stepping out of the gate with no entourage, and a single bag in tow. Meanwhile, the Mraboran ambassador travelled with a staff of seven on a surface-landing private vessel that was conspicuously absent from the planet at the moment, the Ambassador seeing fit to do her business from Mars for the time being.


    Congressmember Ferrety spotted Angzal first, perhaps noting the one stationary Mraboran in a churning sea of Humans. This was her other complaint about Earth ¨C for a capital planet, it sorely lacked for species other than its native one. As for Ferrety himself, she would not have pegged him for a politician. With loose fitting dark clothing, including an unseasonably warm jacket, and with his jet-black hair nearly coming down to his shoulders in an oily mop, he resembled more a petty thug than a member of the HID Congress. His long nose gave him the appearance of a bird, while his puckered mouth gave him the air of something aquatic, in others words, prey to the core.


    ¡°Deputy Consul Angzal gan Mreniyaur?¡± Ferrety asked, extending his hand in the traditional Human greeting. What was it with Humans and wanting to touch each other the second they just met? An unseemly tradition that made Angzal¡¯s skin crawl very time she was forced to participate in it.


    ¡°Congressmember Ferrety. Please, ¡®Angzal¡¯ is just fine.¡±


    ¡°Oh, do call me ¡®Gord¡¯. This whole ¡®Congressmember¡¯ business feels too formal. I¡¯m ¡®Gord¡¯ back home and ¡®Gord¡¯ here.¡±


    As far as Angzal knew, Mars was no quiet backwater rock, by Human standards anyway. It was Earth¡¯s oldest colony, and Gord Ferrety wasn¡¯t even the only congressmember to represent the planet. Whatever face Congressmember Ferrety was trying to put on, Angzal figured she¡¯d just play along.


    ¡°So, Gord, how was your trip?¡± Angzal asked as she led them to the chauffeured personal transport that the consulate had sent for them.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Oh, it was fine,¡± Ferrety answered, hands in the pockets of his jacket. ¡°I¡¯ve made the trip so many times I hardly even notice it these days.¡±


    ¡°So have you lived your whole life on Mars?¡± She was speaking to Ferrety, but her eyes were flitting around the terminal, picking up on the wide-mouthed stares and the craned necks, realizing in a place like this, she might have actually been some of these people¡¯s first Mraboran that they¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m originally from a distant colony world that is now under the control of the Mraboran Protectorate.¡±


    Seeming to catch the expression of concern on Angzal¡¯s face, which was less out of sympathy and more out of worry that her history knowledge had missed this skirmish between the Humans and her own people, Ferrety continued, ¡°Oh it was nothing like that, just some redrawn boundaries. Pure politics. But ever since, I¡¯ve had a special place in my heart for all those periphery worlds that are so easily forgotten when you¡¯re at the core of it all.¡±


    And it was these periphery worlds and the few votes in Congress that they held that would need to carry the day for either side of this debate.


    ¡°Are you looking forward to this meeting with Congressmember Reyes?¡± Angzal asked, looking for someone to dread it together with since Rzena seemed to actually be looking forward to seeing the chaos that it might inflict on Angzal¡¯s life.


    ¡°Well,¡± Congressmember Ferrety answered slowly, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t so much say that I¡¯m looking forward to it, but I am hopeful.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met Congressmember Reyes before?¡±


    Ferrety chuckled.


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised to know that Congressmember Reyes and I agree on many things. Unfortunately, we seem to have drifted apart on this one.¡±


    They stepped out of the terminal and Ferrety stopped, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath with his eyes closed.


    ¡°Ah, it never does get quite like this on a terraformed planet. How about you, Deputy Consul? What kind of world are you from?¡±


    Angzal flared her own nostrils and found the aromas of home woefully lacking.


    ¡°I¡¯ve pretty much spent my entire life on Mrabr.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Well, I bet Mrabr makes Earth look like Mars by comparison. Though I¡¯d wager you¡¯ve never seen anything like the Mer Pacific when you were growing up.¡±


    ¡°No, nothing quite like that.¡±


    ?


    Now in the stuffy conference room with congressmembers Reyes and Ferrety going back and forth with each other, Angzal let her eyes wonder to the window and that body of water shimmering under the sun outside the consulate. Of course, this was only a bay, and even though she¡¯d been here a month she still wasn¡¯t sure if it technically opened into the Mer Pacific or one of Earth¡¯s other oceans, but in any case even here the vastness of it was unmistakable. It was a great expanse of unknown that reminded Angzal of the blackness of space, and it must have built in early Humans an unquenchable thirst for exploration. With that kind of spirit, she wondered, what would have happened had their species not set themselves back by two millennia, right around the time of the Thorian Civil War when the Empire was at its weakest. Instead, they were now relegated to bickering in the periphery. She recalled the last conversation she had with Reyes and how Angzal had said that she herself enjoyed no privilege and merely gnawed at the scraps from the big table. But Reyes had been right, here is where the real fight for the scraps was taking place.