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The Glorians were obvious above all others – literally. He grimaced as he saw the towering cybernetic warriors who called themselves Dreadnoughts, violent psychopaths by design. Whoever had decided to include them in the Glorian diplomatic party were seeking trouble.
Next to them he did see unaugmented people, not insignificant in rank themselves. He hoped they’d be able to rein in the murderous urges of their larger brethren.
He did not see any Gohhians he recognized; if Waites-Kosson or Xatier were present at the party, they were not around this area.
Walking in and taking a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray, he sipped it lightly. It tasted terrible to him, bubbly and sour but not at all with a kick. The data tag on it informed him it was the height of fashion right now. Merely an accessory – more for its pleasant golden color than for actual drinking.
A Qlerning nearby raised a hand in greeting.
“Captain-Mayor, we are very pleased you could have made it,” the being said, coming closer.
Brooks recognized him as Gleh Parvennakka of the Qhenber Theatre Troupe, and one of the principal actors of the upcoming play.
Offering his hand, Gleh shook it vigorously. “We are so honored to have been invited to perform upon your vessel,” he said.
Brooks let the being continue to pump his hand, smiling easily. “For our part we are very pleased to host you. Your play has achieved great fame and I look forward to seeing it.”
The Qlerning paused for a long time. “I hope it will meet your expectations,” he finally said. “Excuse me.”
He seemed insulted, Brooks thought, but he wasn’t sure why or if he had inadvertently given one.
He’d had plenty of interactions with the species, but that didn’t necessarily mean a lot. There were great subtleties and nuances to Qlerning cultures, and they were not a monolithic species; different Qlerning cultural groups had their own customs.
Putting that puzzle aside, he moved through the party. He had no goal in mind, only to ‘show the flag’ in his own way. The many guests – artists and capitalists masquerading as public officials, even high-ranking members of Gohhi’s security forces – all noticed him. Some did a double-take. The looks they gave him were, at best, ambivalent, and from many he sensed open hostility. Even from some of the artists, he was sad to note.
But if one fed from the hand of a class of wealthy patrons long enough, eventually you accepted the interests of that class.
Finding himself near a drink table with actual human staff, he set his decorative drink down.
“Give me something actually for drinking,” he told the bartender.
The man nodded sharply and made something he did not recognize.
“Sunrise on Venus,” the man said with a smile. “You’re gonna need it.”
“Many thanks,” Brooks told him, tipping his head and taking a drink. Its strength burned, but he found he liked it.
A crash behind him made him turn.
A human server had, it seemed, been bumped into by a Dreadnought, who was glaring down at her.
Murmurs, laughter, and a few mocking claps came from the crowd as the waitress hurried to pick up the dropped glasses. Drones were already zooming in to help.
Brooks walked over, kneeling to assist as well. The young waitress was visibly flustered, and some of the glasses were rolling back off her platter as she tried to hurriedly put them on.
“Sorry, so sorry,” she murmured.
“You’re fine,” he said to her calmly.
“You don’t have to help sir!” she said as she realized he was there.
“It’s what anyone would do,” he said, glancing up.
Other guests near him were looking at him with disdain, but he glared back, daring them to comment on basic decency, holding eyes until they looked away.
When all the glasses were back on the tray, the young woman stood, her face bright red.
“A little stressful tonight,” she said with a lopsided smile.
“I can imagine,” he said. “Good luck.”
She smiled and moved off, and Brooks stepped out of the way of a drone that was scurrying off, the floor now clean and dry both.
A shadow loomed over him, and he looked up into the face of the Dreadnought who had, he presumed, caused the incident.
“I took you for a servant. But I see now you are a slave,” the cybernetic being said.
There was little humanity left in his voice; it rang with a metallic reverb, deeper than almost any natural voice. He stood almost eight feet tall, broader than two men. His entire upper body appeared to be armor or cybernetics, with only a portion of his face and head still human.
Brooks ignored his taunts. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. You are . . . ?”
The being let out a disgusted sound and looked away.
“There’s so few of your kind here. I’m used to seeing you flitting about like so many peacocks,” he said. “In your bright colors.”
“Yes, I know gunmetal gray is the default color of Glorian worlds,” Brooks replied.
Another man approached. “Oh, if it isn’t our lonely Union man, Captain Brooks.”
He, too, was Glorian, dressed in a uniform far more flamboyant, though no less gray than the Dreadnought’s armor.
“Apparently you both know me, but I don’t even know who you are,” Brooks replied. He met the eyes of the cybernetic hulk, letting him take the words as mocking.
If he was someone of note, Brooks would have heard of him. Or at least he knew the Dreadnought would think so.
He growled again, leaning closer, menacingly.
“Your friend seems to have forgotten his words,” Brooks said to the other man, keeping his eyes locked on the Dreadnought.
“General Adarno is much more comfortable with action, Captain Brooks,” the man said, his smile turning mocking as he looked at the Dreadnought. “I, on the other hand, am a man of words and action. Praefectus Dogan.” He offered his hand, which Brooks shook reluctantly.
“We may be enemies, Captain, but I have a certain respect for my worthy adversaries,” Dogan continued.
“Enemies are meat to be ground up,” Adarno growled, pitting Dogan with a glare of hate as intense as any he would give Brooks.
“We’re all meat if we get hit by a piece of tungsten moving at a fraction of c,” Brooks said. Adarno snapped his gaze to him, and Brooks nodded. “Apologies – meat or scrap.”
Dogan laughed, and Adarno turned away, pushing a startled Qlerning – and clearly holding back enough so as to not cause a scene. His stomping steps turned more quiet, though audible through the silence that had fallen over the nearby crowd.
“They frankly should not let those brutes out of the house,” Dogan said. “But they have their use.” The man smiled to Brooks. “I’m still surprised your people have yet to adopt their style of soldier in some capacity. They killed so many of your people during the war.”
Brooks calculated his answer carefully. It was true that Dreadnoughts, in a ship-boarding action or ground-action, could be spectacularly deadly, especially if they got close. It took a lot to kill two tons of rampaging machine burning with an all-consuming desire to die gloriously.
“I suppose the numbers do look nicer if you don’t count your own losses of normal personnel,” Brooks replied. “Or those killed in their ships.”
“All for Gloria,” Dogan replied, smiling again, and offering his drink up as a toast.
He did not wait for Brooks, but then quaffed it. “Ah, the bartender makes a very nice Sunrise on Venus. Much better than these frilly gold drinks, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t suppose Adarno is capable of enjoying those anymore,” Brooks replied.
“Oh, no. For him only nutrient paste and ammunition,” Dogan replied with a laugh. “He’d not have it any other way. Luxuries only make you soft, in his eyes. I am pleased to have a more refined palate.”
“Of which world are you Praefectus?” Brooks asked.
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you what is public information, hm? I am Praefectus of one of the worlds we liberated from the Ouo Ledori.” He chuckled. “We call it Hell, I forget their name for it – it doesn’t matter now. It’s not the most pleasant place, but the work at terraforming continues. It’s just a matter of freeing enough oxygen from the crust to form a breathable atmosphere right now. A few more decades it will be a paradise.”
But not for the original colonists, Brooks knew. The Ouo Ledori had been a loosely-associated collection of 287 systems, of which the Glorians had taken over fifty in a sublight war that had ended over sixty years ago.
“Let’s hope it will get to be enjoyed by all,” Brooks commented.
“Oh, don’t make me laugh. We know exactly who we want to enjoy it and who is a dead weight,” Dogan replied. “But by all means, wish for peace, land, and bread for the worthless scum if you want. Maybe we’ll ship you some of them, and see how you like them, hm?”
“You wouldn’t have anyone left to carry you then,” Brooks replied.
Dogan’s smile was mocking and he drank again.
“Well, this has been pleasant, Captain. Shall we do it again sometime? No, don’t answer that.” The man turned and walked away.
Brooks sighed and drank more of his Sunrise on Venus. The bartender had been right; he did need it.
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A Star Captain wore many hats and among them was diplomat.
Brooks had always known that, he was good at the game. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
Star-eyed people imagined that being a Captain meant travelling to exotic places and making snap decisions under pressure. The cynical thought it was all bureaucratic work, while others thought it involved brokering treaties of peace between worlds.
All those things could happen. But most of the time diplomacy was simply being a face to represent your people at a place you would never want to go.
It was good to remind the intergalactic community that your government existed. To remind them that you were watching them when they were conniving in the dark, or to reassure your allies that you were still taking an interest in intergalactic affairs.
It meant you had to rub shoulders with your most implacable enemies and see what you could learn about them. To be the eyes through which effective policy could be created.
Which meant he had to go to a party.
After all, The Legend of Ussa and Usser: A Tragedy of Ancient Earth was an intergalactic sensation among those who were interested in humanity. Therefore, that an event to honor the writer who created it and the actors who brought it to life would be held was a given, and an important place to be seen.
The peak of Gohhi society would be there – including most of the Lord Executives.
Diplomatic revenues from the Qlerning, independent arts guilds, and even the Glorians would also be present.
He had been dreading this more than anything else he’d faced recently – even his trial. The stakes were not directly as high, but . . .
Well, no getting around it, he thought, as a drone brought his dress uniform.
The standard Sapient Union uniform was a functional suit, which doubled as a light spacesuit in the event of decompression. A hood, hidden in a pouch behind the neck, could unfurl automatically to cover the head, while each joint was reinforced with accordioned, air-tight fabric to protect prime leakage spots. Dark blue, a color-coded stripe indicated the department – command was a silvery gray. And like every outfit, it had distributed electronics that interfaced with one’s personal system, monitoring their condition while also providing a wide suite of extra functionality.
The ceremonial dress uniform, in contrast, was not a functional spacesuit and was far more limited in its computing ability, robbing it of most of its intrinsic value.
On top of that, he found it ostentatious.
Few agreed with him on that point; it was in its own way an impressive creation, made to a level of perfection that even most spacesuits didn’t get. Stripeless, the pattern was more of an hourglass in the chest and stomach that mimicked the outline of a jacket and shirt. The area was filled in with a dazzling silver that appeared like liquid mercury, the surface often taken for actual metal rather than impressively-tailored smartcloth.
Numerous loops of golden braiding came down from the short epaulettes on the shoulders, and a row for commendations crossed the chest.
After dressing and letting the drones pin his various awards, he looked at himself in the mirror. Donning his cap, he checked that everything was straight, and saw that the dressing drone scanned him as being within code.
He set forth, towards the Captain’s shuttle bay that was near to both his cabin and his study. The shuttle docked there was slightly larger than most, a show piece in itself, displaying the emblem of the Sapient Union.
“Captain departing the vessel,” he messaged Jaya.
“Copy that, Captain. Hope you survive,” Jaya replied.
He smiled, knowing she dreaded the idea of having to do such events if she ever chose to pursue a captaincy.
The trip took most of an hour in the shuttle. Its delta-v was low, but fortunately the event was being held on Gohhi Main. It was still a trip around the station, but the lanes were clear and well-guarded.
He knew he was particularly vulnerable, if anyone actually cared hard enough to try to get him.
But those who wanted to would lack the means to breach the security, he thought. And those with the means would not see him as valuable enough to risk the potential fallout.
The external cameras warned him of other pods and shuttles dropping off famous guests. Queued up automatically, he patiently waited until his own pod was able to dock.
As he exited into the airlock, a drone butler greeted him.
“Welcome, Captain-Mayor Ian Brooks,” it intoned in a warm voice. “We are very pleased you could have made it. Are you alone this evening?”
His invitation had said he could have brought another if he wished. He had not wished to do so.
“That’s right.”
“Please, enter in and be introduced,” the drone said, leading him in.
As he passed through the main gate airlock, he saw that the room was like an ancient ballroom; every wall and surface was made in the most intricate style. Real wood from Earth had been brought in, though worked in new styles and techniques that made them stand out.
Along each wall were paintings and sculptures, human and alien. A section of sweeping Dessei sculptures stood next to replicas of some of the great human paintings, and beyond them the more surrealist Qlerning art, which sometimes he did not recognize immediately as even being art.
Pulling his eyes away from that and to the guests, he took stock of just who he would have to spend the evening with.
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Tred almost knocked on the door to Ham Sulp’s office.
He hated knocking; the act of physically striking a door seemed alarmingly violent to him, but occasionally people still did it, especially when a request for entry was going unanswered.
Which, Ham Sulp had kept him waiting over two minutes now.
Making up his mind to actually reach his hand up and rap his knuckles on the door, he froze in mid-motion as it opened.
He hesitated, and then Sulp’s bellow came out to spur him into action. “Come in!”
Scurrying in, Tred looked around the cramped office. It should have been spacious, but there were containers stacked everywhere.
Maneuvering around them carefully, he approached the squat man at his desk, who did not even look up.
“I’m here on behalf of-oh!” He cried out as something touched his leg. Looking down, he saw that it was the small ship terrier that they’d taken on a while back.
It had its front paws on his shin, looking up at him expectantly.
“She wants you to pet her,” Sulp grumbled.
“Pet her? Does she bite, though?”
Ham Sulp put down his stylus to turn and give Tred a long glare, before pointedly turning back to his work. “No dog I train ever bites. Not unless I train them to bite.”
That did not reassure Tred much, but he obediently knelt, reaching down a hand for the dog to inspect.
She gave him a cursory sniff, then began to pant, her short tail waggling expectantly.
“Just watch out if she starts to lick you, she’ll never stop,” Sulp added. “Now, who sent you down here?”
“Er . . .”
Tred had carefully arranged his thoughts, just what he’d say. But he was distracted now, and all of his words escaped him.
He looked down at the dog. Her name was Angel, his system told him.
She was making a disturbing amount of eye contact with him. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she turned her head just slightly, and her tongue came out.
The appendage seemed to move in slow motion as it took a long, slow lick on his hand. She continued to stare at him.
“I haven’t got all day,” Sulp said.
“Jophiel!” Tred said. “Ambassador Jophiel, I’m helping her with . . . well, she wants to go see the Ussa and Usser play and . . .” The dog was now licking him more, making his hand moist. He pulled it away and she jumped onto his leg again, crying sadly.
Hastily, he put his hand back down, and she continued to lick him.
“And what does she need?” Sulp prodded.
“Oh, well . . . I’m making her a special drone. So I have a list of parts I need to make it work . . .” He threw the information to Sulp with a swipe of his hand, his system interpreting the motion and sending it to the quartermaster’s system.
“Drone? You’re not a drone tech,” Sulp noted.
“I got my certification last night,” Tred said quickly. “All my credentials are in order, and-“
“That’s rather impressive,” Sulp grunted. “That’s a six-day course.”
“I worked all day on it,” Tred said. And it was true; he’d gotten up at dawn and taken his test just before the chime of day’s end.
“Well, things do look in order.” Sulp seemed almost disappointed, Tred thought. “I’ll have these brought to your work station in fifteen minutes. That work?”
“Oh, yes,” Tred said, relief flooding him to the point that he almost felt giddy. But his face went back to bothered in a moment as he still felt Angel licking his hand. She’d gotten his entire palm at this point, and worked her way around to the back of his hand.
When he did not move, though, Sulp frowned. “Do you need something else?”
“Just . . . how do I get the dog to stop licking me?” Tred asked.
New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
It was the same talking head news show she’d seen in the bar. They had a still image from the bar fight at the Nozzle – of her. She was standing, finger pointing, anger carved into her face.
It had to be from when she had been telling them she was from New Vitriol. She was far back, the Response Team – Kiseleva included – were rushing over to help Jaya.
She had a hard time looking away from herself, though. She had been so angry; her face, normally an unhealthy pale, was red and blotchy with her anger. Her mouth was squeezed into an ugly sneer, still yelling out whatever she had been saying. She could not even recall exactly what she’d said at that moment.
Trying to push past it, she turned on the feed.
The talking heads were appearing, floating around the screen, talking to each other, ostensibly different views, but all the same at the end of the day.
“. . . this crazy woman, Apollonia Nor is her name, she actually started a fight with a damn Dreadnought!”
“I don’t know if she’s crazy or just stupid,” another head said.
“Or high!” a third head said, popping up and floating across the screen. “She looks like one of the mindshot junkies I saw down on Red Light Row last week who was offering to do some really crazy stuff for just ten credits.”
The second head smirked. “Are we sure it’s not that lady? She might just think she’s from New Vitriol!”
They all shared a laugh, and Apollonia felt her face burning. Anger and shame – old feelings that she’d often felt in the past, bubbling back to the surface.
The comments weren’t new to her, she’d heard worse, said right to her face. But now they were being said on a show viewed by how many billions . . . ?
She didn’t want to hear more, but couldn’t make herself stop entirely. Instead she just skipped to a later timestamp.
It was no longer her on screen, but a view she had not seen personally but recognized immediately; Kiseleva on the boarding ramp. The pimp, Daze, was still alive, not yet stepping past the line.
“. . . another crazy woman from the Craton. The Union just pumps ’em out, don’t they?”
“Well, you know what they say about the sapeholes, they really let the wrong people run amok over there,” the second said. They laughed, as if it was some kind of in-joke.
“I tell ya though,” the third head said, popping up again. “She’s hella hotter than Nor! I’d let her violate my rights any day, if you know what I mean!”
“I don’t know,” the second said. “As much as I’d love to bed a gal that beautiful, I think I like my heart and spine intact. She’s a literal heart-breaker, just ask poor Daze!”
“I’ve heard,” the first said, “that getting girls dressed up like her is getting to be a popular fantasy down in Red Light. You know, after this, I might just head down there myself and see what-“
Apollonia stopped it, feeling sick.
She glanced at Kiseleva, who was still looking at the boarding Gohhians.
She didn’t look that upset, Apollonia thought. How did she brush it off so easily? As much as Apollonia felt used to a lot of vile things, this was too much even for her.
“Someone’s approaching,” Kiseleva said suddenly.
Apollonia felt her hackles rise again, and she snapped her head in Kiseleva’s direction of gaze.
The man was trying not to seem suspicious, but like the Response officer, Apollonia could immediately tell he was coming towards them. He was trying too hard to seem casual.
As he came close, he suddenly put up his hand – Kiseleva jumped, towards him, while Apollonia away.
But it was not a weapon. The man just had a simple camera.
“Officer Kiseleva,” he said loudly. “Can we hear your side of the story? For the people of Gohhi, howling for blood for the cold-blooded murder of Daze Allo – what do you have to say?”
Oh god, Apollonia realized. He was paparazzi.
Kiseleva looked to her. “Say nothing,” she said sharply.
The man whirled to Apollonia. “And you, Ms. Nor, do you have any comment on the shooting of Daze Allo? Are you two cooperating to attack the men of Gohhi?”
Apollonia felt her jaw drop, but she managed to keep from saying anything, closing her mouth with a loud click and looking away.
She was starting to feel light-headed again.
“Response Team to location,” she heard Kiseleva say. “We have intruder aboard.”
“Are you going to have me shot the way you shot Daze Allo?” the man asked, seeming very unafraid for someone who thought that might happen. “Can you show me the handgun you shot him with? Is it standard Union issue or did you use a private weapon?”
He turned the camera on Apollonia again, she looked down and away, putting up a hand to shield herself awkwardly.
She heard boots approaching, the whir of drones, it had to be the Response Team coming-
A large shadow loomed, and she jumped slightly. But looking up, it was not the Response Team or another paparazzi – but Cenz.
“Oh, hello!” he said, pushing himself between the man and the table. The photographer tried to dart around him, but Cenz put one of his arms around the man’s shoulders, pulling him away.
“Let me go!” the man screamed, clearly ready for this. “I am not violating any laws of the Sapient Union!”
“I’m afraid that you are disturbing the peace, sir,” Cenz said, sounding eternally pleasant, his electronic face smiling. “But I will be happy to answer any questions you have! Pertaining to the public areas of the Craton, that is.”
The man tried to squirm away, but Cenz’s grip was apparently like iron. “Unhand me you fucking xeno!”
“I am afraid I do not have hands,” she heard Cenz say, his voice fading slightly as he dragged the man away. “But let me tell you about what sorts of appendages my people do have . . .”
Kiseleva snorted out a laugh. “I suppose I owe him another one,” she muttered.
Apollonia found it hard to laugh, or even really think.
Looking over, she saw that the Response Team had arrived, taking the man from Cenz’s grip. He was still yelling about rights, drawing a crowd. Some of the other Gohhians, looking as surprised as everyone else, snapped some images of the man as he was led away.
“Excuse me,” Apollonia said, rising from the table.
Kiseleva rose as well. “Are you all right?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“I think I just need some quiet,” Apollonia told her. Along with a nap. And a shower.
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“So your concussion is minor?” Kiseleva asked.
“Yeah, it was just a little bonk,” Apollonia replied distractedly.
“I’m surprised they let you in,” the other woman replied. “Y was in the brig at the time, from what I understand.”
“Well, I told the guards it was really important and they pinged him before I went in, so I guess it was fine. But don’t worry, I’ve hit my head a lot harder than that before!”
Kiseleva frowned. “You had a concussion. Prior blows to your head would have been a health emergency. Were they untreated?”
Apollonia shifted uncomfortably. “I was just joking,” she said.
The other woman regarded her carefully for a moment, then nodded and looked away.
It was not the first time that one of Apollonia’s dumb jokes had fallen flat. It wasn’t like they were going over her head, she seemed to get them, but did not see any amusement in them.
Apollonia looked away as well, sipping her drink. It was some kind of semi-medicinal smoothie that tasted mildly fruity. Y had recommended it, saying it would help her gain more muscle mass and get the calories she needed.
They were seated outside of a rest area on the Equator Ring. Around them, crowds of people were walking by, flooding into the shops and restaurants.
She’d stopped into shops before and found that most were artisan craftsmen making things by hand using ancient techniques.
She wondered how one even got to be an artisan. Did you sign up for some classes then decide you wanted to open a storefront? Or were many ten-billionth generation whittlers or whatever?
“You seemed to get distracted before you hit your head,” Kiseleva commented. “What happened?”
Apollonia was kind of unhappy to be dragged back to that topic. Kiseleva had an uncomfortable way of sticking to a subject no matter how much Apollonia wanted to deflect it with a joke.
“I was just a little worn out, I guess,” Apollonia said. “And sore from the last training session.”
“Did you take your post-exercise medication?” Kiseleva said.
“Yeah . . . but that stuff isn’t as effective for me-“
“Dr. Y believes its effectiveness would not be altered for you,” Kiseleva said brusquely.
“I don’t know, then,” Apollonia replied, feeling a little testy. “I just got light-headed.”
Which was true, and she could not account for it. For one moment she’d been fine, if panting for breath and trying not to freak out in the full space helmet counted as fine.
But then she’d suddenly whited out. It hadn’t been panic, she had felt no moment of a loss of control, that spiral into fear run amok.
Maybe she had and she just didn’t want to admit it, though?
Kiseleva was being quiet, and Apollonia saw her eyes following a group of people coming onto the ship from the boarding ramp.
“They’re letting people from Gohhi back onto the ship?” Apollonia asked, recognizing the natives by their outfits.
“Yes,” Kiseleva answered sourly.
“I hope they’re at least checking them more for crazy implants or being murder-happy lunatics,” Apollonia muttered.
Kiseleva only looked more annoyed.
Several of the Gohhians noticed them. There were many other people sitting nearby, but the visitors clearly were focused on them specifically.
Apollonia felt her hackles raise.
“Why are they staring? And pointing now . . .” she asked Kiseleva.
“We’ve both been in the news cycles,” the woman replied.
It made sense to Apollonia that Kiseleva had been, but why her? She felt very uncomfortable about that.
“Can you show me?” she asked.
Kiseleva sent her a link, and Apollonia brought it up.
A coalition government formed by multiple species. The primary species of the Sapient Union are (sorted by population size):
Bicet Commonly called Beetle-Slugs, these hive-minded insectoids have a biological caste system and are among the oldest of known space-faring species. Their small size, precise manipulation ability, and strong work ethic make them pre-eminent engineers, though they move somewhat slowly and are not physically very strong. The Bicet are, by far, the most numerous species in the Sapient Union.
Sepht Commonly called Squids or Parthenogenes, these aliens move on a tripod of strong tentacles, possessing cup-like hands at the end of arm-like upper limbs, and heads of moving tentacles. In war, they are generally viewed as somewhat defensive species, and they have been relatively slow in expanding through space, preferring to thoroughly exploit a system before attempting to move on to a new one. Their populations, though, can grow quickly, as most of their species are female and are capable of bearing twin children every few years with no functional menopause, in the case of having no males around – by producing functional clones. There are three sub-species of Sepht; the smaller and colorful Vem em, the large and powerful Nolem and the transparent and ghostly Pelan.
Dessei Commonly called Moth Owls, these humanoid aliens descend from gliding predators that caught fish-like prey in the ocean. Their regal bearing, bright plumage, and explosive bursts of violence lend them a reputation for possessing a very strong martial spirit. Some rivalry exists between the Sepht and Dessei.
Qlerning A very neutral gray humanoid species with no other nickname, the Qlerning are a contemplative and reasonable species. Few have strong issues with them, and aside from the arts they do not stand out strongly as a species.
Humans Only joining the Sapient Union fifty years prior to the start of the story, humanity is largely united and classless by the 30th century. Having settled thousands of worlds, they still are far behind the other primary species in terms of numbers, but are viewed generally positively by the others.
Other member alien species, important but not as numerous, include:
Corals/Polyps A colonial species from a watery world, groups of them inhabit a rocky shell connected by strong special unintelligent muscle polyps. They are capable of swapping out their members to see other points of view better, causing them to be a very peaceful species.
Ehni A species of artificial intelligences, the Ehni are the most technologically advanced species in the Union, and the most intelligent. Though their true numbers are not known, very few Ehni choose to leave their society and go into others. The Ehni are not hostile to life; if anything, they believe that it is a transitory phenomena that poses little risk to them, and should be observed while it exists.
An Abmon
Abmon Commonly called Rock Pillars, they are a stocky, rocky like species from a high-g world. They look somewhat akin to barnacles with rows of tentacles around the mouth on their top. They are slow, despite possessing five legs, but very strong. They are rather few in number compared to other species.
A Star Angel
Star Angels Beings of plasma that live in the corona of the star Yia. They are an intelligent but non-technological species that communicates via radio waves and enjoy the conditions inside of fusion reactors. Only recent members, they have not yet colonized any external star systems.
Shoggoths Not much is known of this mysterious species from Earth, who only recently revealed themselves to humanity and by extension the other species of the Sapient Union. They are able to change their shape to look like others and claim to live extremely long lives. Their true numbers are small, but believed to be in the thousands rather than million. There is a strange connection between them and the beings known as Leviathans . . .
The member species of the Sapient Union share information and believe in collective defense with open economic borders. Originally founded by the Bicet, Sepht, and Dessei, other species have joined over time, allowing mutual prosperity.
Matters pertaining to a single species are viewed as internal matters and other species generally avoid getting involved.
Collaboration happens very freely between the member species, biology allowing – the largest barrier to ships with large populations of multiple species tends to be that each is comfortable in slightly differing conditions (Sepht, for example, prefer a much higher humidity than other species and their skin secretions are irritating to human skin; Bicet prefer smaller spaces than humans fit into, as examples).
Humanity were first contacted by the Bicet in 2903 and joined the Union only a few years after.
All members of the Sapient Union agree to collective ownership to the means of production. They therefore have a classless communist society, where people are paid in Exchange Units, non-transferrable tokens that represent their labor. While conditions have advanced that everyone can be guaranteed the basic needs of life without working (food, water, air, shelter, medical care), few choose to live at such a level without working. The efficiency of their system means that one need only work a few hours a week in order to afford other items they may desire, and most people don’t have many useless goods sitting around their home. Consumerism simply does not exist when most common things can be easily 3D printed at home in a short time or borrowed from a well-maintained local lending library or community center.
Other Governments and Factions
Aeena/Fesha An extremely xenophobic species, the Aeena have never been seen in person by another species (as far as is known). Operating largely through their client species, the crystalline Fesha, the Aeena once warred with the Sapient Union. They view the universe as theirs and all other species as thieves; their genocidal desires have been put on hold, however, as they realize the scale of opposition.
Though no longer openly hostile, their current goals and plans are unknown.
Glorians A violent faction of humanity that has taken control of several hundred systems, they are violently opposed to the Sapient Union. A highly militaristic government, they have warred with humanity, though the other species of the Sapient Union view it as an internal issue and refuse to get involved.
Gohhi A multi-species territory in interstellar space, Gohhi is at a key location in known space, making it a mercantile center. Controlled by Lord Executives, the heads of companies that are insanely wealthy, Gohhi is only loosely united and one of the last remaining bastions of private property. All sorts of beings come to Gohhi seeking a fortune, but few ever find what they want. For many, their dream ends in poverty and a slow death.
Latarren A mysterious species that warred briefly with the Sapient Union in 2927. Though the war was not large, the Latarren remain wary of the Union.
Hev Clans Appearing like humanoid rodents of various sizes, some even armored, this species has spread widely across space, both known and unknown. Their external colonizations took place in three major waves, and differing waves are known as Yellow, Blue, or Red. The Yellow are generally viewed as more peaceful and settled into galactic culture, the blue are more ambitious but mainly mercantile, while the Red are the most expansionistic and violent.
Independent Systems For every known interstellar species save the Bicet, there are systems that have elected to be independent. They may remain in relative isolation and obscurity, though others join together in coalitions of systems that seek greater political leverage through collective bargaining.
The Sapient Union does not force any errant system to join its member states, and attempts to maintain friendly political and economic relationships with these systems.
This list is by far exhaustive, and when it becomes relevant, more will be added!
Alien Life
Life is common in Other-Terrestrial, so long as you mean something like single-celled lifeforms. Our own solar system has several places with native life, though only on Earth did they grow larger than microbes.
On very few worlds have conditions been conducive towards life growing complex. Complexity is not a goal, after all, but simply something that occurs if conditions make it advantageous and allow for it to occur. It can only start if single cells find it advantageous to stick themselves together into a biomat and cooperate (a sheet of cells stuck together is what defines biological tissue). Once these start forming into a sphere (the most efficient shape for a cell mat to take if it’s not attached to a surface), cells can begin specialization and life may start to grow complex.
Yet remember that life on earth existed for billions of years before this occurred.
On even fewer worlds has life developed complex intelligence, civilization, and tool-making. Even on those worlds where this occurred, the conditions to actually escape their world were not always present, or the biology of the species may not have allowed for space travel.
Thus, while the Milky Way contains 100 thousand million stars and there are over 260,000 within a 250 light-year radius of Earth, and nearly all of these likely have multiple planets there are very few civilizations – likely less than 200 across the entire galaxy.
The majority of life encountered is carbon-based and requires water. While other biologies can occur (such as the Star Angels), carbon has the great advantage of working very well as the basic building block of life and being far more common than its next nearest competitor, silicon. Likewise, water as a solvent offers many advantages over similar liquid solvents that might work with silicon (one option being sulfuric acid!). Like carbon, hydrogen and oxygen are very common elements in the universe.
Technology
In the 30th century, technology has advanced in incredible ways.
Fusion reactors are a robust technology that produce prodigious amounts of energy with very common fuels.
Artificial intelligence systems utilizing vast networks of data can seamlessly translate languages with such nuance that most don’t even realize that others speak a different language. This works as well for exotic alien communication systems as it does for human languages.
In medical fields, nearly all ailments we know are treatable. The common usage of sensors to monitor a person, the analysis of their genetic data, advanced simulations, storage and processing ability mean that changes in a person’s body are known before they even feel them. A full understanding of each individual’s body also means treatments can be specifically tailored to the individual, all-but eliminating bad side-effects.
New methods of administering treatments like nano-technology allow pin-point treatment against cancerous cells, and the ability to reseal cut flesh means that deadly wounds and operations both can be fully repaired easily.
With senescence being pushed back to 120 years, humans can naturally live up to 150 years. After this, our own biology simply limits lifepsans, but replacement organs and limbs can allow an individual to survive an indefinite period of time; the maximum lifespan of a human that opts to go more and more transhuman as their body fails has yet to be established.
Materials technology is perhaps the unsung hero of this new age; the ability to construct materials atom-by-atom perfectly means that an engineer can simply set the parameters they wish of a material and build it to match.
Yet limitations remain; teleportation is a pipe dream, power storage has sharp limitations, waste heat is a huge hazard for a ship, and most ships require vast amounts of reaction mass to move, making every gram matter.
And nothing can go faster than light. Yet new physics allow intelligent species to circumvent this iron law . . .
Gravity Engine For traveling through space, there is no method except for Newton’s third law; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The only way to move in a vacuum is by pushing material out of your vessel. The more energetic it is, the more acceleration a ship can receive in return. This means that, while advanced fusion reactors can easily heat up that mass, there still must be mass to eject.
Until gravity engines. A unique feature of cratonic vessels as of yet, this technology allows a ship to thin the veil between our reality and the strange subspace known as zerospace.
With zerospace’s physics being in many ways different from our own, pseudo-gravity is created. Though this force is not true gravity and decays, it is able to create enough force that a massive vessel can be pulled along.
For many ships, the uneven stress of such a pull could be catastrophic; on a cratonic vessel, however, the matter of the strange asteroid it was originally made from is able even out this force, allowing the ship to move without straining its structure, and without reaction mass.
This miracle technology has even greater applications, however.
Dashgates Even within our solar system, most vessels take months or even years to reach a destination with traditional technologies.
But in Other-Terrestrial, humanity first defeated this problem through the creation of Dashgates. These gateways used the same technology of later zerodrives to slip a ship “between” realities (at least to use layman’s parlance). Though this cannot propel a ship faster than light, it can cut travel time from the fringes of a solar system down to mere hours.
This typically requires a gate at each end, though many ships will contain a one-time use dashbreak that will pull the ship back to normal space in case of a catastrophic failure.
This technology still remains in wide use within solar systems, as faster technologies come with other drawbacks that make their use near habitable spaces far less desirable.
Zerodrives By far the most miraculous (AKA physics-defying technology) that has been discovered is the zerodrive.
By opening a hole to a subspace realm called zerospace, a ship is able to “dive” beneath reality and circumvent the speed of light.
Zerospace behaves in an extremely unpredictable way; even the best of neo-physics attempting to study it is largely speculation. What is known allows for interstellar travel, however.
As a ship opens a zerospace portal, it is pulled forward by a force dubbed pseudo-gravity, and once it crosses the threshold this force continues, naturally increasing the ship’s speed far past the speed of light.
The reality of zerospace is not compatible with normal matter, requiring that the vessel create around itself a very powerful electromagnetic field. While the ship may be shielded from this field, its presence outside of it is required or the ship’s matter will instantly disintegrate. This electromagnetic shield is so robustly built in that most scarcely think about it, and a ship’s computer will automatically abort an attempt to jump if any errors are detected.
Zerospace possesses massive gravitational objects; some of these match up with phenomena in realspace, but others do not. Through gravitational slingshotting, a ship may move towards its target exit point. The distances it must travel in zerospace vary relative to the actual distance it seeks to cover in realspace. Thus, travelling ten light years may take two hours or two days.
Certain paths have been found and remain consistent for unknown reasons; this creates ‘highways’ in zerospace are commonly traveled and certain locations (such as Gohhi) are located at the nexus of many common routes.
When a ship wishes to leave zerospace, it opens another portal, this time allowing it to return to realspace.
The interaction of the portal with realspace allows the ship to shed huge amounts of speed, and by the time it emerges it is under the cosmic speed limit. Any remaining momentum it obtained from the zerospace travel is a “pseudo-force” and decays rapidly, meaning that within a fraction of a second of re-entry the ship is left only with the momentum it had before jumping.
A final, important caveat exists to zerospace travel; a ship may not stay ‘under’ for more than 70 hours. Due to the fact that a ship continually accelerates in zerospace, after this point it attains a velocity so high that it cannot adequately shed that speed when it comes time to leave. If a ship cannot reduce its speed to less than light speed, it cannot re-enter our reality.
One ship cannot detect another in zerospace. They have no sensor range, therefore it is impossible to actually know what happens to a vessel if it remains in zerospace for longer than 70 hours. This fact is calculated, and seems to be consistent with tests that had probes stay under longer than 70 hours.
For this reason, a ship rarely stays under for more than two days, and often takes several days before it submerges again.
Which is fine, as most ships do not even have their own zerodrives; only major governments or massive conglomerates typically are able to operate ships large enough to carry the multiple reactors necessary to power a zerodrive. Most ships require at least seven reactors, and to charge the appropriate energy may take several days.
Cratonic ships, due to their unique makeup, are able to use significantly less energy to open zerospace portals, allowing them far greater freedom in a smaller size. Nevertheless, they may still take many hours to charge for a dive.
For ships without their own zerodrives, zerogates can launch them to a destination where another gate can catch them, or a special transport vessel known as a ringship can open vast portals able to allow entire fleets to travel through zerospace. Though they are ring-shaped, vessels do not fly through their ring; this is only the most efficient shape known for opening such vast portals.
Various strange health effects are known from zerospace travel, such as the Pavlona Shivers, submersion euhporia, and given longer-term trips even psychological instability.
All windows are covered and external sensors are deactivated while in zerospace, and the computers of most ships will not let crew change these facts. Those who have managed to view zerospace despite this offer contradictory descriptions; some describe strange lights, others pure blackness. Still others offer far more fanciful stories of demons, monsters, and visions of the past. The idea that all would be black is most commonly stated by scientists, as there is no light as we know it in zerospace, thus there is no way to see anything. However, some vocal physicists say this entirely wrong and offer many mathematical explanations why.
Research into this is banned by every government; the primary reason is the high proportion of researchers in this area who become suicidal or even homicidal.
Common wisdom is simply that minds of our universe did not evolve being able to comprehend something they cannot comprehend. However rhetorical the statement is, few can argue with it.
Communication with a ship in zerospace is a very expensive thing; however, opening tiny zerospace portals to send messages to distant antenna is a well-developed technology. Certain forms of signals are still able to propagate in zerospace, and so long as the receiver opens a portal at the appropriate time (or simply opens and checks for an incoming signal once every few seconds; military starships do this), it can receive instantaneous information from across known space.
Oddly, no one seems to comment on the old idea that this could allow causality-breaking.
Weaponry and Defenses
Space combat takes place in three specific zones. In this, Other-Terrestrial obeys the laws of physics.
Streaking missiles
Long Range Primary Weapons: Missiles and Lances Light-minutes or hours out, your latest intelligence on enemy movements will be old. You cannot know what way your enemy might maneuver in this time, so dumb weapons are nearly useless. Only intelligent missiles that can correct their course have a decent chance of hitting the enemy.
Missiles are typically launched in massed volleys to help overwhelm defenses and ensure hits. The launchers, therefore, are built with this in mind and load magazines of missiles that can be quickly ejected, then fire off together.
These missiles will be highly maneuverable, able to change course and jump in very randomized ways to help defend against counter-fire. Nevertheless, only high numbers will be able to get through defenses and land hits. These requirements mean that they will tend to be small and designed to be as cheap as possible. If you’re going to firing hundreds in the hopes of a few getting through, you don’t want them all to cost exorbitant amounts.
The warheads will be nuclear, may carry submunitions, or have no warhead at all; travelling at a high enough velocity will give the projectile itself more energy than any chemical weapon.
Lances are another variety of weapon that are used at times; these heavy rockets contain a nuclear shaped charge. When detonated, a plate of dense material is turned into a hyper-energetic shot of plasma.
Lances can be detonated at great ranges and still have a powerful effect upon their target, but suffer some key disadvantages; they are typically larger and more complex than most missiles, and are therefore easier to identify. Once identified, they can be targeted with interceptor missiles or long-range lasers and destroyed.
Medium Range Primary Weapons: Coilguns, Lasers Within ranges of a few light-seconds, lasers become viable weapons. While most ships are effectively armored against a laser cutting through their hull, attacks on soft targets such as sensors or weapons is viable – even if not enough to destroy these systems, they may effectively blind them.
Notably, these lasers will not be continunous beams, but intense pulsed beams. Rather than melting, they will explosively convert the surface of a target into plasma. The effect would be more akin to an explosive shell going off on the surface of the target.
Incidentally, lasers also make a great method of communicating privately at long ranges! Unless your lasers are poorly shielded and others can read the heating and cooling of the commmunication laser and parse it out, hmm . . .
Coilguns, which use a coiled electromagnetic to accelerate projectiles to incredible speeds (up to an appreciable fraction of lightspeed) will be incredibly effective.
Due to both weapons travelling so quickly, dodging them is nearly impossible.
A coilgun shell will be mostly an intert lump; the acceleration they experience is so extreme that so any complex technology inside is unlikely to survive. Some specialty rounds do exist, however, such as splitter shells, which use precise materials science to allow the shells to break apart in somewhat-predictable ways at a given distance; this long-range shotgun can be used for bracketing an enemy ship in lot of smaller pieces, though more often it is used to counter massed missile barrages.
The energy of a coilgun shell will be so great that no armor can stop it. There is, effectively, no defense but to avoid being hit.
These weapons will come in different scales; the three massive coilguns built down the Craton’s centerline could launch a bus-sized projectile (or, at sane speeds, a Response Team shuttle!). Smaller, shorter weapons could be turret-mounted, though they wouldn’t be able to launch projectiles to as nearly high speeds.
Close Range Primary Weapons: Point-Defense Cannons, Dumb Shells
Within a few kilometers, even “slow” projectiles will be able to hit enemy targets. Point-Defense Cannons, normally a defensive systems for intercepting enemy missiles, can be used to fire upon enemy ships. Despite being energetic, against very large warships these will have very little effect – but could be effective at targeting specific soft points, such as sensors or other weapon systems.
Dumb-firing artillery cannons are still possible weapons for space combat at short ranges! Firing explosive shells, they could bracket and tear holes in an enemy vessel, though deeper penetration might be problematic. These weapons would, however, have one very great advantage; they would be cheap.
Combat drones ready for launch
Active Defenses Various forms of defenses will exist for various weapons.
Drones will be a major component of space defense; these autonomous vehicles can be centrally controlled, have mother drones with lots of “dumb” babies, or can possess a simple AI – or all three to some degree.
Some will possess weapons of their own and will attempt to shoot down enemy missiles or even put themselves in the path of projectiles if necessary. These drones will also be extra eyes and ears for the ship, or be able to effect in-battle repairs if necessary.
In close-range, drones can attack enemy ships directly through kamikaze or strafing key targets. However, their size will mean they are also very easy targets.
A ship can only carry so many drones, however, and they are a valuable resource. To lose your drone defenses will leave your ship highly vulnerable.
For dumb-fired weapons, simply avoiding being hit is an option, and even outside of battle many ships will make small, erratic course changes in case an attack is already on its way and just hasn’t been seen yet. As ranges shrink, though, maneuver becomes less viable as a defense; a coilgun or laser simply moves too fast to be avoided if the enemy is within proper range. Missiles, however, would be nearly impossible to avoid; in real life, they simply are far more manueverable than any ship could be and will catch the target if not interfered with.
Against missiles, Point-Defense Cannons and lasers will be the main form of defense, with defensive coilgun rounds being a secondary option. Lasers can destroy a missile at a touch, meaning that the main thing holding them back is how quickly they can orient to the next target (though missiles would jump about erratically with maneuvering thrusters to make themselves harder targets).
But lasers also generate a lot of heat; getting rid of this heat is extremely difficult in space, so lasers can quickly get overwhelmed by targets. For use against space debris, however, they are perfect, and any ship that is going to travel a decent distance would carry them.
PDCs are better weapons against missiles, able to bracket them with large volumes of projectiles, tearing them apart and destroying them.
Passive Defensives There are no ‘energy shields’ in Other-Terrestrial. No physics has been discovered to allow these to exist, and even despite hundreds of years of scientific advancements (and a few non-scientific ones), these remain in the realm of fiction.
Likewise, stealth is an impossibility in space; ships generate so much heat that parts of them will literally glow. Disguise, however, as a friendly or neutral vessel or even as a derelict, may be possible.
Almost all ships that spend time out in the Dark will be equipped with an armored nose cone. This is simply a conical disk of armor that you will point in your direction of travel (or in the direction you expect weapons to come from).
On other parts of the ship will be something called a whipple shield; this consists of multiple layers of thin armor. When small objects (<1cm) hit the shield, they will pierce the layers, but break up and disperse in the process, allowing the armor underneath to better withstand the impacts. These are in use today in the real world!
Underneath the whipple shield will be heavier layers of armor; on the Craton, this area is largely made up of cratonic rock; parts of the original strange asteroid. This matter is extremely durable, and as so much was available from hollowing out the asteroid it was readily available for use as armor.
Other vessels without cratonic rock will use heavy plates of layered materials; the layering will matter, because some cosmic rays could radioactive certain materials. The most embarrassing way to die in space would be because your own ship became radioactive and killed you!
The Eldritch
There is, of course, one last aspect to the universe of Other-Terrestial, something that sets it apart.
The eldritch.
The Sapient Union calls these entities ‘Leviathans’. They refer to matter of this type as tenkionic, and have named the force-carrier particle the krahteon.
Yet they do not understand its true nature.
These are not concepts of physics like we can understand, Leviathans are not simply a novel form of life.
There is no word for them but gods. They are beings that exist on both higher and lower planes; like an iceberg that extends deep into the sea but also so far into the sky that the top is invisible. They may present before us as physical beings or be nearly impossible to detect.
Around each of them, reality itself is warped and twisted; normal matter coming within this radius, known as the Reality Break Shadow, is itself altered. Metal may crawl like spiders or flow in strange directions like water, human minds shatter, and bodies can be twisted or become riddled with cancerous tissues.
They dwarf us. We are insgificant to them. They are a force of a nature we can never understand, that we will go mad trying to know.
Across the universe, they have left marks, some of which we can find, other times that we do not understand the significance of. Some of them have whispered into the dreams of beings since they could first see the light of a dawning sun and understand its significance.
They were there when the first star flared to life and will be there when the last dims. They are waiting.
Normally I don’t post on Sundays, but since it’s Christmas tomorrow, I’ve got a special treat coming! Check back in at 9am (assuming you’re done tearing through gifts, that is), to find out what!
New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
Romon began to pace, his eyes sparkling. Y had his interest, and if the man had ever had any desire to speak to Jan Holdur, he had forgotten it now.
“I have spent nearly fifty years watching my fellow man,” he continued. “From the lowest dregs, dwelling in abandoned stations and stabbing each other for a used needle, to my own sires, squabbling with others like themselves for imagined ‘rights’ to imagined money that we all pretend has meaning. We are all the same. Mere beasts, acting on instinct. We only delude ourselves that there’s more meaning to it because ours is a tangled web that intersects and drives us to greater folly than the rest of the animals.”
He shook his head. “There’s no greater meaning to it than that. We are pawns with no master, and so we run amok. I am no greater, no lesser in this. But at least I can see that.”
“I see,” Y said. “I am afraid, then, that I overestimated you.”
“Ah, you hold yourself up as better? More aware? More deserving of holding that spurious, hollow, and fictional title of sapient? How adorable, doctor. Though,” Romon added, “I had expected better of you, of all beings. That is, if you were more than a programmable yes-man.”
“You misunderstand. I overestimated your intelligence in particular – I am disappointed to hear you hold such a cynical view, no better than that of an angry child lashing out.
“You think you are elucidating the ‘true nature’ of sapient beings, holding yourself above, for you alone realize this truth. But the reality, Mr. Xatier, is that you are following in the footsteps of many failed cynical philosophers who all thought that they had stumbled upon the ‘truth’ of mankind. Or Desseikind or Sephtkind or even rarely Bicetkind. Yours is not an original idea. Yet their ideas hold on only at the fringes, among the most listless and broken – if even there. You see, such ideas are self-fulfilling. They achieve nothing, and so – following a Darwinian concept of success and spread – they disappear. They do not propagate. They are a failed experiment, only one that their believer holds onto desperately because they can use it to justify any sort of action or inaction that they wish. And this cuts to the truth of the matter; with your mighty fifty years of observation you believe you have seen the truth. It would not matter if it was even 5,000 or 50,000 years, to be honest – both numbers are not even a drop in the ocean of time.
“You are not elucidating reality so much as revealing yourself. Your belief in the faults of reality doom your own to be nothing more than that – your own small cunning has trapped you into a corner you cannot escape, except by losing your ego, which is truly all that matters to you.
“Little more than an animal, having robbed yourself of your own initiative, while even those ‘dregs’ at the bottom could potentially seize an opportunity and uplift themselves and alter their destiny if given a chance. But you, with the capacity to do anything, you simply hide your selfish and petty desires behind a weak philosophical camouflage.”
Y shook his head. “Narcissism and childishness, standing solely on an inherited fortune and a large vocabulary. These are not things to be proud of, Mr. Xatier. Any fool can do what you’ve done.”
Romon Xatier’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and he was not smiling anymore.
The door opened, making him snap his head over, but it was only a drone, bringing the pate.
It set it down, with a pleasant cry of “Geh’jool!” and then left.
Romon did not touch it, merely watching Y.
Y could see the simmering beneath the man’s surface, wondering what he would do or say next.
A ping came into his data, asking for entry. He saw who it was.
“We are about to have a guest,” he told Romon.
The door opened.
“Y!” Apollonia said, stepping in. “The guards said I could just bother you a moment- Oh,” she said, realizing just where she was as she saw the cell that Jan Holdur was in.
“I didn’t know we even had a brig,” she commented, looking at the man in the cell. “Oh, shit, is this the guy who tried to kill that one gal?”
“Apollonia,” Y said. “What do you need? I am surprised the guards let you in.”
“Yeah, well I said it was important . . .” Her eyes caught Romon Xatier, who had been standing back from the door, nearly hidden from sight. “I didn’t know you weren’t alone.”
“It is quite fine,” Y said. “Did you have a medical emergency?”
“Uh, well I hit my head pretty hard in zero-g, and you’re my doctor so . . .”
“Your concussion is mild, fortunately! Head to my office in the medical wing and I will be waiting for you. Don’t worry, we can treat it with no issue.”
Romon was watching Apollonia now, and she was staring back openly, clearly finding his stare bothersome.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you on the ship,” she said to Romon. “I’m Apollonia Nor.” She offered her hand.
“I know who you are,” Romon replied quietly. He did not take her hand, and continued to stare.
She withdrew it, clearly taking his action as the insult it had been intended as. “You must be from Gohhi,” she said dryly.
“And why would you think that?” he asked, still quietly, his smile returning. But there was something dangerous in it.
It was not lost on Apollonia. Y could tell the change in her endocrine system as she became angrier.
“You just have the look of someone who thinks they’re important. The clothes, the cologne, the greasy hair.” She turned back to Y. “I’ll see you shortly.”
She left the room, and Y watched Romon. He continued to stare after her.
“I think I must excuse myself,” Romon then said. “I feel the inspiration for a poem has come to me, machine. I must not keep it waiting.”
New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
“My dear, let me tell you how extremely sorry I am for all that happened to you. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that this never happens again.”
Romon Xatier was an excellent liar, Y thought.
He was watching the interaction between the man and Ensign Peony Vale through a camera, one of many public cameras that lined most areas of the ship.
He often took time to watch through a few dozen cameras at the normal interactions and movements of people. For some time it had been essential research, learning how humans interacted in a naturalistic way. It helped him to act in a way that made them feel more at ease.
But it had become something he simply enjoyed.
He could not say he was pleased right now, however.
Ensign Vale was blushing slightly and looking downward. She seemed to believe the man, which he found disappointing.
But she did not know much about Xatier beyond this one meeting. And the man, while retaining something of his aloof, vaguely aristocratic bearing, certainly passed off his words as true.
Perhaps on some level he even believed them, and Y wondered if perhaps he was becoming a cynic. If asked to prove why he thought the man was lying, he could only have ascribed it down to a ‘feeling’. The biophysical signs existed to some degree, but were muted and muddled enough to render confidence low.
Hardly enough to write a report on.
“Thank you,” Vale told him. “I admit I’d never gone onto Gohhi, I’d heard some stories and this made them all seem true . . . but I’m glad to know there are decent people here.”
Smiling in a way that seemed at once intimate and casual, Romon leaned in, tapping his lips to her hand. “You flatter me,” he said.
A few moments later, after bidding a farewell to the smitten Ensign Vale, Xatier passed the two Response guards at the doorway and entered the brig.
“Good day to you, Romon Xatier,” Y said, not looking up. “Jan Holdur is presently asleep, but if you wish, I will rouse him for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Xatier said. “I will simply wait.”
Y said nothing to that, merely offering a mechanical nod and continuing his work of monitoring Holdur’s restraint suit. Even in his sleep the man fought.
It did not require his full attention, but he was happy for the moment without distractions anyway.
He allowed himself a sense of glee. Romon Xatier had come back, as he had predicted.
“Would you perhaps like a refreshment while you wait?” he asked. “I imagine the Sapient Union’s chef machines will not compare to the fare you are used to, but they do make a very good Hetharian eel pate.”
Romon Xatier’s head tilted slightly. “Very well, machine. I am curious to try what your kind thinks passes as food.”
“For an appetizer we have Yangshan peaches – they may not be Norobian in taste, but I believe you will find them similar enough to be pleasing.”
This time, Romon stopped. “You seem to have a very good idea of what sort of meals I prefer, machine.”
“Yes, you frequent the restaurant Harth’s, one of the finest establishments on Gohhi, with some regularity, although only when the famed chef Haznar is present. He is famed for his Hetharian eel pate, after all.”
“My, it seems you have been paying attention. But I doubt Haznar has come onto your ship, so I do wonder if your chefs can even make the pate edible,” Xatier commented, smiling slightly.
“It is a difficult dish to make, by human standards, requiring just the right level of understanding of the eel’s biology and the chemistry of cooking to render the poisonous flesh safe to eat. This is why I had to program in the instructions myself, to my standards. I had never tried it before, but you can be certain it is safe, as I tested it repeatedly.”
He inclined his head to Xatier. “You have attempted the dish on at least three occasions, haven’t you? Though it seems you were unsatisfied with the results from the fact that the eel cannot be stored at home for more than six hours, and you ended up eating out those three nights.”
“Someone’s done their homework,” Xatier replied. “Do you truly find me that fascinating that you can devote so much time to my study?”
“Oh, you need not worry about my time being wasted,” Y replied. “This was a cursory glance of mine at the public databases. For as long as humanity has been in an information age, they still do not seem to quite grasp how informative the accumulation of such data can be.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You believe yourself a recluse, but you do go for walks. You do look at things. You do make micro-expressions. Many things you purchase are through hidden channels, but many times their movement is open and publicly viewable. Are you ever curious how much cologne you use a day? Based on your frequency of buying your various kinds I can tell you. You used more today, as a matter of fact, and one of the kinds you use less often than others – you prefer it when meeting people you wish to manipulate, such as Ensign Vale outside. Do you feel it makes you more relatable? I am sure with your refined tastes you came to this conclusion not because you have been manipulated into that feeling but purely through your own high-class tastes.”
“So what is your point?” Romon asked him. “That we are all unwitting pawns? I find the idea that we are all aware – whether crafted indirectly, uncaringly by nature or by the calculated and thinking hands of a designer – to be the greatest lie we have ever told ourselves.”
New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!
“You’re from the Sapient Union, aren’t you?” Urle asked the woman across from him.
“Yes . . .”
She looked nervous and Urle could certainly understand that.
Her name was Sem Kassa, born, the records said, on Garden Ridge Station 137 in the quad star system of Gliese 282. Ten years ago, when she was 16, she had hopped a transport ship and disappeared. No one had known why, her family were still searching, but beyond Union borders they could not find any traces of her.
Kassa’s stress signs increased in the presence of any men, which he unfortunately understood, given that she had been ’employed’ as a prostitute in a no-holds barred brothel.
Kai Yong Fan leaned closer to her. “If you want, I can get a woman to conduct the interview,” she said.
“That would be fine,” Urle added calmly. “But I am second only to the Captain in authority and will have to be involved with the diplomatic side of this either way.”
“No, it’s okay,” Kassa said softly. “I’m just in shock still.”
“That’s understandable. I’m sorry to have to put you through this,” Kai said. “But we need to get the facts quickly to make sure we can keep you safe.”
Kassa’s eyes went wide and she looked up at Urle, then Kai. “You won’t send me back, will you? I can’t go back!”
“We’ll do everything in our power to prevent that,” Kai said.
“We will not be sending you back,” Urle told her. “If you feel your life would be in danger if you went back. Do you feel that way?”
“Yes!” the woman said, panic in her voice. “Daze will kill us!”
“Daze is dead,” Urle told her.
“He’s been shot before and not died, the man is a cockroach, he won’t die just from-“
“He is dead,” Urle said definitively. “His vitals went flat.”
While attempts to revive the pimp had been made on the dock, it had been too late. Kiseleva’s bullet had hit him in the heart and spine, leaving little intact. He’d been too far gone by the time he hit the floor.
He’d crossed a line, threatened a combat response officer, and paid the price. Perhaps he’d just made a mistake or maybe where he came from he thought he was untouchable, but it made no difference now.
Sem Kassa seemed more in shock, leaning back in her chair in silence.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said in a hushed voice.
“He can’t hurt you or anyone again,” Kai told her.
The woman nodded slightly, but still seemed stunned.
“What happened for you to get to us?” Urle prompted gently. “Can you tell me? It will help.”
“Yesterday . . . Ozgu overheard Daze talking to Baro and Earl. They’re his guys, his . . . enforcers. He thought that I was getting too old and too much trouble. He told them to take me to an airlock later that night, that he’d already bribed the guards. It was less of a pain than selling my contract.”
Kai leaned in. “Too much trouble?”
“I . . . I talked back sometimes,” Kassa said. “And I heard rumors that someone was asking about me. I mean, I always hoped but I didn’t think my family would ever find me out here . . .”
“How did Ms. Uzun get stabbed?” Urle asked.
“She told us what she’d heard, and we got Baro and Earl drunk. When they came to . . . find me they left their guns behind. But they were keyed to their fingerprints, so when Uzun grabbed one they wouldn’t fire and Baro stabbed her.”
She drifted into silence a moment, and Kai and Urle waited patiently for her to talk again.
“But I grabbed a chair and I hit Baro on the head. I think the corner hit just right and he went down. Then Mae jumped on Earl, she was really tearing at his face since she was friends with Ozgu . . . He got his gun back, but I jumped on him too, and he was on the floor so we pushed it down and made it fire and . . .”
“You defended yourselves,” Urle said. “This was self-defense.”
“What happened after that?” Kai asked.
“After that we took their money and systems and left. Their systems unlocked the front and we were carrying Uzgu. We used their cards to hire some taxis and sent them off in other directions.”
“To throw off the scent?” Urle asked.
“Yeah. Daze knew the owner of the company. So we knew he’d find out.”
“And did you just walk here?”
“We weren’t on Gohhi Main then. We hired a produce hauler shuttle to let us on and got here about two hours ago.”
“How long ago did you escape?” Urle asked.
“I don’t know . . . it feels like days. Maybe twelve hours?”
“All right,” Urle said. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kassa. With your information we can move forward.”
“The others won’t have to go back, either, will they?” Kassa asked, her face pale. “They’ll be killed. Even if Daze is dead, we did something . . . I don’t know if Baro or Earl are still alive, but if they are oh god they’ll come for them, and even if they’re not someone else will just want to make an example-!”
“They won’t have to go back,” Urle promised. “We can keep you safe.”
Kai said nothing – despite what he’d said, there was a chance they could be sent back.
Because they didn’t know all the facts. She had just lied to him.
A Response officer, another woman, led Kassa out, and Kei turned back to face him.
“Ozgu Uzun was stabbed less than thirty minutes prior to them showing up on our doorstep,” she said.
“So she’s wrong about the timeline,” Urle said.
“If there’s any more surprises waiting, this could become an issue,” Kai said.
“We’ll smooth them out. The biometrics are very, very hard to fake without some nice tech that she doesn’t have. She was legitimately terrified for her life – and those of her friends.”
“Yes, she was genuinely scared, there’s no doubt. But what did the biometrics say about her story?”
Urle’s voice was grim. “She lied about a lot of that.”
“And it also matches what the last woman said,” Kai agreed.
“So they got their story mostly straight, but it’s not the whole story,” he said. “We’re going to have to find out what the truth is.”
Other Terrestrial 
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