Episode 5 – Trial, part 4

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


At least the fish were nice, Apollonia thought.  She was sitting as close as she could, Y next to her, and the fish seemed very, very happy.

She could recall dozens of cheap, fake fish she’d seen in her life.  They swam around, acted in cute ways, some even would come to the surface so you could pet them.  But they also would often break and keep swimming in circles, or have bits of their pseudo-skin peel off to show the tech beneath.  The creepiest were the ones that sang to you.  She had vague memories of an event with the singing kind, and one kid had been so freaked out that he’d started crying.

These were definitely alive; she thought so, but had asked Y as well, and he had concurred.

“They are indeed biological!  And that water is swimming with tiny organisms besides them that are also true organic beings!  I believe that some of them might match my sample from earlier.  I wonder if people actually touch that water?”

He seemed to give something like a shudder at the thought.

“What kind of fish are they?” she asked.

“Starting alphabetically, there are two Clownfish, a Bicolor Blenny, a Yellowtail Damselfish-“

She listened to his words but began to tune out, as something itched at her mind.  It took her a moment to even realize that something was wrong, but then the awareness was upon her, and she sat back, grabbing Dr. Y’s metal hand.

“Nor, are you- Oh, Ambassador.  Hello.”

Kell had walked into the room, and he was not alone.  Three other beings were with him, human in appearance, but their faces unnaturally calm and blank.  Two flanked him on either side with the last behind.

“Doctor.  Ms. Apollonia,” Kell said as a greeting.  He did not look happy.

Though Apollonia felt like she could hardly see his face.  The effect was so much worse, it had to be because of the others.  They, too, were Shoggoths.  And there was something about them, a resounding hostility that made her almost want to vomit.

Clenching her abs, she fought that feeling down.

“Here for the inquiry?” she asked.

Kell gave her a slight nod, then moved away.

“It’s your fault we’re here,” she said after him, the words just slipping out of her mouth.

Kell did not answer her, and she felt both stupid and ashamed after speaking.

Y was watching her, but she couldn’t make herself look at him as she whispered;

“He killed it.  Brooks is getting blamed, but Kell murdered Michal Denso.”

“I am not sure that what still existed in that body can truly still have been said to be Michal Denso,” Y replied, also quietly.  “And I do not say that easily.  Truly, Nor, did you know a better solution to what you believe Kell did?”

“I don’t believe he did it – I was there.  I saw it.”

“I was not,” Y said.  “Therefore I cannot accept with absolute certainty.  I will give credence to your understanding, as it is beyond me.  But the events are so alien and bizarre that it is hard to give them my full weight of belief.”

Apollonia fell silent for a time, watching Kell, who stood with his entourage on the other side of the room.  They, too, were watching the fish tank, but were not sitting.  Just standing . . . unblinking.

The Shoggoths around him, their hostility wasn’t directed at the humans in the room, she realized.  Just Kell.

They knew, she thought.  They knew, and . . .

Maybe they agreed with her.

“He did something that was terrible,” she said to Y, feeling unable to really lay out more.  “Something unforgivable.”


Over the next few minutes, more people arrived.  They were all grave individuals, and Apollonia only felt more and more out of place.  They were mostly human, save for two short Sepht who slithered, tentacles entwined, straight through to another room, and a Dessei who was taller than most of the humans.  He had a notably large crest that was a vivid shade of blue, as opposed to Lieutenant Pirra’s green.  Her tablet told her that the size of the crest meant that it was a male.

One very old man came in.  She realized she had not seen many people who looked as old as he, his skin having that slightly crinkled shine and age spots.  His eyes, though, were brown and clear, and he moved without difficulty.

A drone came and beckoned her, and as she rose, she noticed that Dr. Y was not moving.

“I cannot go with you,” he told her, his voice more somber than normal, though still lighter than it seemed the situation warranted.  “But do not worry, it will all be fine.  You are not in trouble.”

That was what they always said, she thought.  ‘We just want to ask you a few questions . . .’

But what choice did she have?  She followed the drone.

Glancing at her tablet again, she saw that it was almost 1830.


< Ep 5 Part 3 | Ep 5 Part 5 >

Episode 5 – Trial, part 3

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“I’m surprised to see you,” Brooks said to Vandoss.  “I’m not supposed to be meeting with a member of the Tribunal.”

He already knew what that meant, of course, which Vandoss confirmed grimly.

“I am no longer on the Tribunal,” he said.

Which begged a new question in Brooks’s mind.  “But the fleet always gets to have one of its own in a case like this, and who is higher than you?”  That much still didn’t make sense to him.  The Voidfleet had no singular head, but as commander of the Sol System Fleet, Vandoss was first among equals.

“The Dessei have exercised their right to place a member on the council, and they chose Fleet Advisor Nuuan to represent the Voidfleet.  He is stationed on Gagarin, so he was a reasonable pick.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Brooks said, frowning heavily.

“I don’t know him well,” Vandoss conceded.  “Only met a few times – he’s technically got the rank of admiral himself, though he’s only an aid to the Dessei Earth Council Detachment.”

Not one of the actual commanding admirals that Vandoss would normally interact with.  “This reeks of interference.  Is there any connection between him and Freeman?”

“Not that I’ve been able to find,” Vandoss admitted grudgingly.  “Though he was once on the Dessei Research Council – so it would be a safe bet.”

“I’ve got good relations with Admiral Luoyyani, I served under him for a year in Detachment Training to the Dessei Republic Fleet.  I’ll send a message to him before we start.  See what he can dig up.”

Vandoss nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.  “All right, good.  I’ll meet you back here, I have more things to check on before it starts.”

“You’re still going to be there?” Brooks asked.

“Yes.  I have appointed myself your fleet advocate.  I’ll fly into the sun before I’ll let them take one of my officers on such absurd charges as these.”

Brooks smiled, genuinely.  “Thank you, Admiral.  I’ll see you soon.”


Urle tapped impatiently on his desk, wondering where his time had gone.  He hadn’t eaten lunch today, and his stomach growled – because he’d also skipped breakfast.  Hannah and Persis had taken longer than normal getting ready for school, and while that wasn’t unusual, it had cost him enough time that he’d thought he’d just make it up with lunch.

Maybe he’d just take a meal infusion.  The nutrients and lipids, simply injected into his system.  Before he’d become a father he’d done that often, but since having kids he’d found himself eating meals with them most of the time.  And usually he had time to eat a breakfast!

To think, at one point he’d considered the act of eating to be superfluous . . .

Just as he had decided he would take the infusion, the line he’d been waiting on picked up.

“Hello, Acting-Captain,” the man said.  He had a calm face and a high forehead.  Urle saw his rank, though, and his stomach lurched.

“Ah, Deputy Assistant,” he replied.  “Thank you for getting back to me.  But I’m afraid I was holding for the Director-Ambassador of the External Non-Union Branch . . .”  The man who could actually come through for helping N’Keeea and his people . . .

“I’m very sorry, Acting-Captain, but the Director is extremely busy right now.  It’s all this business with the Glorians and Corvus.”

Urle’s frown wasn’t visible through his full-coverage face plate, but the mechanical sound of agitation certainly was audible.  “What’s going on with the UGR now?”

The United Glorian Republic – one of the other human governments out there, formed by a fleet of generation ships that had left in the 23rd century.

The group was hardly united – more like subjugated by one particular colony, who called themselves Glorians for the world they’d colonized.  While consisting of a mere one hundred and fifty systems, they were supremely militant, and resisted the call to join the Sapient Union as a united humanity.

While the Sapient Union had accepted that, the aggression of the UGR had not put the two governments on good terms.

There had been conflict, that had resulted in a lot of civilian deaths in the Sapient Union from their surprise attack on Mir.  Their operation, however, had been ill-advised.  The resulting war had lasted only thirty days with a bloody defeat of the UGR.  Yet other conflicts had threatened to break out repeatedly since . . .  and diplomatic relations had remained chilled, to say the least.

“I can only tell you public information, Acting-Captain, but it appears that there has been a popular uprising against the government of the Corvus system.  There are a lot of reasons to believe it is, in fact, a coup, however.”

Urle didn’t know the place; his system brought up the relevant information though.  It was another system that hadn’t joined the Sapient Union, but also wasn’t a part of the Glorian Republic.

“What does this coup have to do with the Glorians?” he asked.

“Corvus borders their space, and the Glorians have been encircling the system with several fleets.  They claim it is help with a peaceful transition of power.”

That was an obvious lie, Urle thought.  It was an aggressive move.  And what was worse, Corvus was astride a major zerospace path that led to Earth.

“Glorian fleets have also ventured beyond the system, claiming to be hunting down pro-government rebels,” the Deputy Assistant added.

“They couldn’t possibly be planning an attack on Sol,” Urle said.  “That would be suicide.”

“Regardless,” the other man said pointedly.  “It has us quite busy.   The coup in Corvus has rather . . . suspicious timing, as their government was in open negotiations to join the Sapient Union.”

Damn, that would have been a nice gain, Urle thought.  The majority of systems interested in unification had joined quickly; those that hesitated rarely seemed to change their minds.

“As for the threat to Earth, the Glorian High Dynast’s speeches have spoken repeatedly lately about their ‘ancestral and legal rights to Holy Sol’,” the other man continued.  “As well as their need to ‘cleanse the stars of competing civilizations’.  Needless to say, this has caused a number of diplomatic issues both within and without the Sapient Union.”

Yes . . . last time the Glorians had attacked an allied species vessel, there had been ramifications on Earth.  No species – well except maybe the Bicet – were fully united, but it was unheard of for a faction of Dessei or Sepht or any of the others to attack another species in a coordinated military effort.  So when the Glorians had done so in the past, it had reflected very badly on the rest of humanity . . .

Which explained not just the difficulties the diplomatic corp was having, but also the increased Voidfleet presence Urle had been noticing the last few days.  Fleets not normally stationed in Sol were all over the place.

“It’s been in the news quite a bit,” the man said now, frowning.

“Oh, I’ve . . . just been busy,” Urle told him.  He hadn’t bothered to check the news for a few days.  “But can you tell me anything about the request of the Hev Ambassador of the T’H’Tul?  He is quite anxious . . .”

“I’m sorry, Acting-Captain.  His request is not forgotten, but right now our staff are stretched very thin.”

“I understand . . .” Urle said, with a sigh.  “But I hope you can give me something, soon.  Ambassador N’Keeea is concerned for the continued existence of his people.”

The man looked grave.  “I understand.  I promise you I will pass word personally to the Director-Ambassador.”

“Thank you,” Urle said, feeling a little relief.  “I hope all goes well on your end – for all of this.”

“Me too,” the man said, a hint of worry in his words.


< Ep 5 Part 2 | Ep 5 Part 4 >

Episode 5 – Trial, part 2

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


The elevator wall was as clear as air – only a few thin lines in it let her know it was there at all.

And she could see out over the entire area, all the statues, and the masses of people that snaked through various places.

“Half of this station is just sorting areas for the streams of people that move through it,” Brooks said.

“Over ten million per day,” Dr. Y noted.  “We are seeing only a fraction of that here.”  He looked at Brooks.  “Though having a ‘foyer’ of this sort, even if not all come through here, is surprisingly inefficient, Captain.  I imagine that this is for a symbolic reason?”

“Yes,” Brooks replied.

Apollonia had her nose against the glass, but then thought of how many people probably touched it on a daily basis.  She moved back.

“Y,” she asked.  “How squirming with life is that glass?”

He looked at it.  “Compared to Earth?  Pristine.  Compared to my office?  It is a veritable zoo.”  He stepped over.  “Now that you have brought up its make-up, I believe I will take a sample.”

While he did that, Apollonia gave a wry grin to Brooks.  “So where is this hearing?”

“The Military Justice section is located three cylinders over.  We have to get on a drone ship that will take us there.”

“How long will that take?”

“About ten minutes.  I’ve signalled a pod and we’ll be picked up shortly after we get to the transit bay.”

The elevator dinged and opened.  Dr. Y took a moment longer to finish his collection, talking about his excitement in meeting such an odd assortment of micro-fauna.

They found themselves at a berthing station, where pod-craft could dock.  There were hundreds of others waiting, with three rows of nine docks.

They went up stairs and Apollonia saw that the dock next to theirs had been cleverly closed off, exposed to the vacuum that existed between the habitat cylinders.  A work-crew in vacuum suits were replacing the lock.

Their pod was already pulling up, and Brooks threw the workmen a salute, which was returned by one.

“Do you know him?” Apollonia asked as they boarded the pod.

“No.  But officers salute workmen,” he replied.

The pod closed behind them and took off.  It just used small hydrogen thrusters, and she felt the acceleration as it moved down the length of the area.

They were still inside the superstructure of Korolev Station, there were only slight glimpses of space beyond through a few small slits – or, she wondered if they were actually kilometers away, but looked tiny at this distance.

There were thousands of other pods, she saw, all pilot-less but controlled in neat lines.  Around the streams of them were hundreds of smaller but still quite large drones with flashing lights that she guessed were for emergencies.

Their trip took them down the length of three habitation cylinders before docking at another terminal.  As they got off, Apollonia noticed that it began to decontaminate itself.

She heard some odd sounds, and Dr. Y was looking back at it even as he walked perfectly alongside them.  “That is not very polite,” he said.  “They are only samples.”  Some rude noise came from the shuttle.

“Captain, that shuttle has the worst personality I’ve ever seen in a drone,” the Doctor said.

“It gives them character,” Brooks said.  “I think it might be the Lunar influence.”

Dr. Y seemed oddly confused by that, but said nothing as they went into the station.

The look here was notably more utilitarian and sober, she thought.  Aside from the SU logo and plaques dedicated to important historical events or figures, there was no decoration.

The Justice Bureau Reception Area, her tablet told her.

There was a receptionist, but they had no need to go to them, and filed down more hallways.

They took a tram and Apollonia was starting to feel strangely uncomfortable and at home all at once.  This was much more like the stations she was used to, but the higher quality and seriousness of it reminded her of times she’d been in trouble with the law.

“Never trust a cop,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Brooks asked.  She was surprised he had heard.

“Nothing,” she said.

Y looked at her, but did not share what he had also probably heard.

They got off, and the area only looked more serious to her.  There were several officials in the waiting area.  Both the walls and furniture were a very dark blue, giving everything a more grim countenance.

Oh, but there was a fish tank.  Her eyes were immediately drawn to it.

Brooks went over to talk to the men, though only briefly.

“Everyone will be here soon, it starts as scheduled, at 1830,” he said.

“Captain, with your permission, Apollonia and I will observe what we can from the Viewing Gallery.”

“Yes,” Apollonia agreed quickly.  “I want to watch this.”  She felt as if she would be helping in some way if she did, though she could not say how.

“There’s some you can’t watch,” he said.  “You especially, Apollonia, as you’ll be called as a witness.”

“I what?” she asked.  She had entirely forgotten that she, too, had a role in the actual tribunal.  “What are they going to ask me, I mean?”

“What happened, what you did – mostly relating to what I did.  Volunteer nothing about yourself or your actions unless directly questioned, and don’t try to defend me – only tell them what happened.”

“Surely there’s more I can do,” she said, feeling panic rise up inside.  “Or, could I just write it out or something . . .”

“You’ll be questioned,” Brooks said.  “But don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

“Go over what you said again?” she mumbled.

“They’ll give you more instructions before you go on,” he said.  “But I need to go- oh, Admiral.”

Someone came up from behind Apollonia, and she nearly jumped, as if the person was right there.

But he was only approaching, and she realized she was having a panic attack.

Dr. Y placed a hand on her shoulder, and she forced herself to take a breath.

“Good, you’re here,” the Admiral said.

Brooks saluted the man, who returned it.  Their eyes went to her.  “Admiral Vandoss, this is Apollonia Nor from Begonia, and Dr. Y, my Chief Medical Officer.”

“Ms. Nor,” Vandoss said, soberly offering her a hand.  She took it, hating how weak her grip was as he shook it.  “I am pleased to meet you,” he said.

She found herself feeling weird under his stare.  She didn’t know if she was supposed to know who he was beyond his title.

As if reading her mind, Brooks spoke; “Admiral Vandoss is the one who sent me to find you,” he said to Apollonia.

“It’s the first time I’ve actually seen you,” the Admiral said to her.  “Afraid I haven’t had time to review your data.”

She suddenly remembered where she had heard his name.  “You command the Sol Fleet, right?”

“I am overall in charge,” the man said, smiling slightly.  “Ah, well, look at you, though!  I am pleased you could be found, and in good health.”

“Relatively speaking,” she said automatically.  “I do have rabies.”

Confusion went over the Admiral’s face, and Apollonia instantly felt heat rise in hers.  Deep dark, had she really just said that to an Admiral?!

Brooks let out a surprisingly loud laugh, and Dr. Y spoke.  “She is making a jest, Admiral.  It is a cultural norm for her colony, when in a tense situation.”

The Admiral let out a guffaw as well.  “Well, I can understand humor in grim times,” he said, his belly still bouncing slightly.  “I understand if you’re nervous, but I assure you that everything will be fine.  If you don’t mind, however, I should speak to Brooks before this begins.”

“Of course,” Apollonia mumbled, stepping away with Dr. Y.

“It’s a wonder I’ve made it this far,” she said even more quietly to him.

“It rather is!” Dr. Y replied enthusiastically.


< Ep 5 Part 1 | Ep 5 Part 3 >

Episode 5 – Trial, part 1

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here!


Captain Brooks’s Log:

I go to face an inquiry that may end my career in the Voidfleet.

I feel fortunate to have had time to make my peace at home, but now I must face this tribunal, over orders that were questionable from the moment they were given.  While I was initially quite certain that this would amount to nothing, I have learned that there is much going on beneath the surface.  But I do not know enough to know what game is being played.

I can see now, the dangers.

But if I can’t protect my own career, I can at least protect those around me.


“Fuck me,” Apollonia said.  “That’s Korolev Station?”

Brooks glanced to her, and for a moment she thought he was going to chide her for her language.

“Yes,” he said, opting to ignore it.  “The Moon is the de facto center of the Solar System, ever since the Earth was cut off in the Ring Collapse.  Korolev Station was already important, but it was added to and became the true seat of the government.”

“I have heard that Lunar culture is somewhat unique by human standards,” Dr. Y said.  “Their art, in particular, has a large reputation.”

“Unique how?” Apollonia asked.

Y hesitated before answering.  “Garish and extravagant.”

“There’s some truth to it being unique,” Brooks said pointedly.  “But that’s mostly in the art colonies, and doesn’t extend much into Korolev.  The station has it’s own culture.”

“I can imagine,” Apollonia muttered.  “It’s not as big as the Chain, but it’s big . . .”

“A permanent population of nearly 75 million and about double that in temporary – it’s impressive,” Brooks said.

“Looks like it’s gonna be crowded as hell,” Apollonia muttered.

“Yes,” Brooks agreed.  “It is.”

Scale could be hard to tell in space, but it looked much smaller than the Chain had been.  Which made sense; even she knew that this close to planetary bodies, having a station as big as MS-29 could be problematic.

“What are those?” she asked, noticing smaller objects near the station.  She leaned forward to peer over Brooks’s shoulder.

“Ships,” he said.

“They don’t look like a lot of the other ships I’ve seen,” Apollonia noted.  Most ships were long and thin, but still managed to look ungainly and awkward.

These . . . there was a sharpness to them.  They had a variety of designs, in all kinds of sizes.

“Fleet ships,” Brooks added, more soberly.  “Those big ones are the battleships.”

“Dark,” she said.  “Is that ship really ten kilometers long?”

“About,” Brooks said.  “Just over nine, I think.”

“And those ones?  With all the spikes?” she asked, pointing to another.  The scope seemed to understand her gesture and zoomed in on it.  The ship was a flat disc with long perpendicular spikes around its edges.

“Artillery ship,” Brooks said.  “Each of the arms contains a coilgun.”

“That’s all gun?”

“Yes.  They’re tremendously powerful weapons – but also very vulnerable.”

“Glass cannon archetype,” she replied.  When he looked surprised, she added; “I’ve played games.”

Y spoke.  “Captain, I am receiving docking instructions.  Korolev has control.”

Brooks nodded.  “That’s right,” he finally said to Apple, then frowned.  “There’s always a defense fleet around Luna, but this is more than normal.”

“It appears to be elements from the 17th, 45th, and 149th Guards Fleets,” Y noted.  “That is . . . surprising.”

Brooks said nothing, but stared out.

“Is that bad?” Apollonia asked.

“I don’t know,” Brooks said.  “The 45th are meant to be on station around Luna right now, and the 17th is under the personal command of System Admiral Vandoss.  But the 149th?  They’re not normally stationed at Sol . . .”

Apollonia sat back in her seat.  All of this was worrying Brooks, but she did not get the significance.

Yet she hesitated asking more.  After the last few days, she was starting to get an idea just how little she knew about anything outside her own narrow experiences.

It wasn’t comfortable, to think you had a good idea on what truths the universe rested, and then find out just how wrong you were.


The docking took an hour, but it was dull enough; Apollonia found she actually missed Urle and his tendency to over-explain everything, because she was actually curious about more.  Yet she stayed in her self-imposed silence, simply sitting and watching.

When the three disembarked, she followed Brooks.

The docking port fed towards the heart of the station, and when they entered the main hall she froze.

Y stopped immediately and caught Brooks, who glanced back to see her staring.

“Dark, this is big,” she said.

The area had to be a hundred meters tall, and five times that long.  Throngs of beings were moving through it, on conveyors or just walking.  Thousands of stalls lined the walls, and everything was just . . . beautiful.

The ceiling, far above, was carved marble, made in intricate shapes, every edge a beautiful line.  In between those sections were inlaid murals that reminded her of ancient paintings of civilizations long gone.

Each piece of art started with a different ancient region of Earth, showing different people using their own methods to build civilization.  It was a full tapestry of humanity, complex and detailed, capturing the whole essence of them more than anything she’d ever seen.  It was much like in the elevator she’d ridden in when they’d arrived at Plucharon Station, only on a far grander scale.

Her eyes went back down to look at a series of monumental statues, towering over thirty meters in height.  At the fore were carvings of a man and woman, hands raised together and holding the ancient agricultural implements that had let humanity form civilization, the hammer and the sickle.

She’d seen those statues before, they were famous, showing up in stock imagery, memes, posters, even as far out as New Vitriol.  Symbols of humanity’s most humble and yet greatest achievement upon which society had been built.  No matter how much the fringe colonies disagreed with the Sapient Union and its ways, no one doubted that it had been people working with their own hands that had built it all.

Somehow it had never occurred to her that she might actually see it in person.  It was so, so much bigger than she had imagined.

Beyond it were the other statues; she’d seen them, but they weren’t as well-regarded.  Each one showed the same two humans, but this time holding hands with an alien – each species that humanity had met and befriended had their own statue.

The closest was a Beetle-Slug, which she’d seen scurrying around on the Craton.  She knew they were highly intelligent and meticulously clean, but they creeped her out.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to get herself under some control.  “I didn’t mean to hold us up.”

Brooks and Y had been waiting in seemingly no hurry.  “It’s no worry.  We have time enough,” Brooks said.  “We erected these statues in the order we encountered each species.  First the Bicet-“

“They were the first aliens we met?” she asked.

“The first intelligent ones.  They had been monitoring us for a while, but decided we were worth talking to, so they approached one of our early exploration vessels.”

There were Dessei and Sepht, Corals and Qlerning, and other aliens she did not even know.  Some had five limbs and giant eyes on their backs.  Others were more like tall crabs, covered in pincers and spikes and eyes placed randomly over their bodies.  Yet another was just a bunch of floating things connected by delicate, thin tendrils.  The artwork on that one was exquisite.

Her eyes roved further, seeing two pedestals that were empty, though clearly something was in the works.

“For the Shoggoths and Star Angels,” Brooks told her, following her gaze.

“This is the largest open area I’ve ever seen on a space station,” she said, eyes now on the ceiling.  “And there are so many people . . .”

“We want to make a good impression,” Brooks said, smiling a little.  “This is the seat of it all, for mankind at least.  But once we get back into the court areas, it won’t be so fancy, trust me.”

A murmuring of voices behind them made Apollonia look back and see that a new shuttle had just unloaded.

“Excuse me,” a drone said, going above their heads.  “No loitering, please.  If you need help finding a particular department, I would be happy to-“

“We know the way,” Brooks said.

Apple dawdled, but Brooks put a hand on her shoulder to guide her away.  “You’ll get another view of it all – a much better one.”


< Ep 4 Part 42 | Ep 5 Part 2 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 42

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“Ambassador,” Urle said.  “I have news for you.”

Though they spoke through a screen, N’Keeea’s body language perked up immediately.  “You work quickly, Acting-Captain.”

It wasn’t how Urle felt, and he let the compliment pass.  “I’ve spoken to the Ambassadorial Service, and since he’s still near, William Prince will be here later today.”

The significance of that seemed somewhat lost on N’Keeea, and Urle elaborated.  “He’s a very important diplomat within the Sapient Union, and a very compassionate man.”

In getting Prince to get involved, Urle did feel he’d done well.  The Ambassadorial Service had been somewhat reluctant; the man was one of their most prestigious members.

But the situation with N’Keeea’s people was important – and delicate.  The departments of the Ambassadorial service that operated in Dessei and Sepht space – as well as the Beetle-Slugs, who’d had numerous minor conflicts with the Hev – needed to be contacted, to learn just why they’d rejected N’Keeea.

None of this could be done in the name of the SU as a whole; only on the part of Earth and humanity.  It made it . . . trickier.

“Oh, I see,” N’Keeea said.  Something seemed off with him, though.

“I think it’s a good turn of events,” Urle told him.  “I hope it can work out well.”

“I simply hope it works out quickly,” N’Keeea replied bluntly.  “I have received a communique from Mopu; the P’G’Maig have broken through our main line of defense and have begun to move deeper into the system.”

Urle was silent a moment.  “How long can they hold out?” he finally managed to ask.

“They could not give me good numbers, the losses are not yet fully understood,” N’Keeea replied, as calmly as if he was speaking minutiae on a distant nebula.  “But their current guess is that the secondary lines can hold out for less than a month.”

“After that?”

“That is the last of our defenses,” N’Keeea said calmly.  “After that, Acting-Captain, my people will be exterminated.”


Apollonia was glad she got to see the ocean again.

Standing on the platform at the base of Lundgren Tower, she had dawdled at the door, reluctant to leave Earth.

Brooks was already inside, doing Official Stuff that she didn’t know.  Their elevator would be leaving shortly, but she just wanted one more minute of the fresh air, the cool sea breeze, the . . . the whole thing.

Dr. Y hadn’t stepped in, standing out with her.  He had never been very enthusiastic about nature, but he’d still come.

She felt like it was significant to him, all the same.  He’d said he’d never been on a planet before, just like her.  It made her happy that they’d gotten to see Earth together, more or less.

It sucked that she had to be called off to this stupid tribunal thing.  If she’d had the choice, she might have just stayed.  Become Guilli’s apprentice or something.

But she had to go to this.  And inside, she knew that it meant she wouldn’t be coming back.

At least, not yet.

“Nor, I believe we should go in now.  The elevator boarding has begun,” Y said.  “And this humidity is not kind to my poor metal body.”

“All right,” Apollonia replied, turning her back on the ocean, even though it felt like she left behind a part of her soul in the process.

“I guess we’ve got stuff to do.”


FINIS


< Ep 4 Part 41 | Ep 5 Part 1 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 41

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“Y!” Apollonia cried.  “You made it after all!”

“Indeed,” the doctor said, his head moving back and forth to surveil the surroundings.  “I realized that, well, I have not actually gotten a chance to see many planets up close.  And I thought perhaps I might see yours with you.  Forgive me for my tardiness.”

“It’s fine!” she said.  “I’m just glad you’re here.  Isn’t it great?”

Y hesitated before answering, sweeping his head back and forth.  “It is very alive,” he said finally.  “Oh, yes.  There are . . . lifeforms on every surface, it seems.”

He looked down at the ground.  “Absolutely . . . squirming with life.”

She could tell he was uncomfortable, but she was still happy to see him.  “Take a look at these trees!” she said, gesturing with one hand, taking his mechanical one in her other.

She tried to pull him along, closer, while he told her that he was already quite able to see them.

Apollonia had been so excited to see Dr. Y that she had scarcely taken notice of Brooks – or the woman that arrived two minutes later.

She was tall, like him, with the same dark hair and the same brooding eyes.

“Ian,” Maria said.  “It’s good to see you.”

“Same,” he replied, smiling genuinely and taking her hand.  Cupping it in both of his own, he glanced after Apollonia.  “Thank you for arranging this for her.”

“After what you told me, all she’s been through, it was the least I could do.  I always try to keep some VIP seats available, anyway.  Never know when someone might want to drop down.”

She smiled, but it faded quickly.  “And an Ehni as well!  I would have rolled out the red carpet if I’d known.  Very few of them have ever been to our system.  Even fewer have actually come down here.”

“Dr. Y seems quite fond of her,” Brooks said.  “Ehni don’t like going to planetary surfaces – it surprised me when he was on one of the shuttles.  Apparently they keep some spare bodies in their embassy, and he just beamed into the inner system.”

“An amazing people,” Maria replied.  “I’ll be happy to speak with him if either of us have the time.”

A silence fell between them, and Brooks watched Apple introduce Dr. Y to the forest Ranger.  The man was bombastic and affable, and Y began to ask him about fungi he’d seen.

“Oh, there are many kinds of fungi to be found here,” he said.  “And some of them are quite delicious!  Do you eat, my friend?”

As Dr. Y explained that he did not, Maria turned to Ian.

“You went home, didn’t you?”

Brooks continued to gaze forward.  “Yes,” he said.  “It’s been a long time since I had the chance.  I wanted to pay my respects.”

“I wish you would have come to me first,” Maria replied.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know it’s important to you, Ian, but you don’t have to torture yourself like this every time you return.”

“It’s not torturing myself,” he said dismissively.

“Then why?  The dead are gone, Ian.  Clemence doesn’t know if you-“

“I know,” Ian replied quietly.  “And that’s enough.”

Maria took a deep breath, calming herself.  Both of their emotions could easily run too high.  But all the piss and vinegar and bile that threatened to rise in them had burned out.  It had been long enough.

“Forty-four years,” she said softly.  Forty-four years without their youngest sibling.  Forty-five without their mother and father.

She just wished she’d actually been home when it had happened.  So that Brooks and Clemence had not been alone.

Ian heard her speak, but said nothing.

Maria finally broke the silence between them.  “This inquiry, how serious is it?”

“Not very,” he said confidently.  “I don’t even know why it’s being done.  I was asked something genuinely impossible – honestly, I don’t understand what Director Freeman’s endgame is.”

“He’s an unlikable man,” Maria replied, disgust in her voice.  “But he’s got a lot of friends, somehow.  It doesn’t make a lot of sense.  Perhaps he’s just viewed as being good at his job-“

“Is he?” Brooks asked her softly.  “In your opinion.”

“Yes,” she replied bluntly.  “I think he is.  Since he became Director of the weird wab eleven years ago, the rate of understanding of all this zerospace and tenkionic stuff has increased markedly.  It’s still all nonsense to me, but they’ve made predictions that have proven to be true – and he runs a tight ship.  Even came in under budget a few years.”

“That seems hard to believe,” Ian replied.  “Do you think he can push his clout for revenge?”

“I know the man has never supported you, but even with all the negative things about him, I don’t think he’s into vendettas.  Not unless someone seriously wrongs him.”

“He might feel that way.  How much do you know?”

“Not much.  Just the public information,” she replied.  “What can you tell me about the incident?”

“Nothing,” he replied dourly.

“While you’re here, you should come visit.  Blake is always happy to see you, and you know Osei – he adores you.”

Brooks smiled, thinking of Maria’s wife and their son.  The boy had already declared that he wanted to be a star-captain like his uncle.

“I brought him some travel logs and a Tedian Moon Fluff from the Begonia system.”

“A pet, Ian?  Really?”  Maria clicked her tongue at him.

He laughed.  “Don’t worry, it’s not actually alive.  It just does a good job of seeming that way.”

“I’m sure Osei will be thrilled with them,” Maria replied, smiling warmly now.

Apollonia turned and saw them both, but must have seen the shadows on their faces, as she only waved.

Brooks waved back, and she began to tromp off into the woods, the ranger and Y both following her.

“The effect around her is not very strong,” Maria noted.

“I think it’s lessened here, for some reason.  I don’t know why, though.  I could still feel it, back when we were at the edge of the system.  But as we came deeper, she’s seemed less . . . strange and just more like a normal girl.”

There was a silence again, and their eyes simply remained where Apollonia had gone into the forest.  Then Maria spoke.

“She reminds me of Clemence,” she said softly.

Brooks did not reply, but his lips curled upwards into the barest hint of a smile.


< Ep 4 Part 40 | Ep 4 Part 42 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 35

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


Something in the air felt different as Brooks went back outside.

It could not be colder; his old home was already just as cold as the surrounding air, and the wind made no difference within his weather suit.

But it was changed all the same, and he uneasily put his hand where his sidearm would have been on a normal excursion.

It was not there, of course.  He was on Earth, the homeworld, and there was no native life that could be a threat to him.

Yet he felt a danger.  All his senses were on alert as he moved back towards the crawler.

He had walked almost out of town, he could see his vehicle, when the strange man came out from behind a building.

He walked out, between Brooks and his crawler, and stopped, staring at him.

He was nondescript; tanned skin, dark hair, brown eyes.  Rather short, and his clothes extremely plain.

And he wasn’t even wearing a weather suit.

Brooks continued to approach.  The man was making no overt signs of threat yet, but his senses screamed that something was terribly wrong.

“Hello,” he said cautiously.

The man said nothing, only watching him with unblinking eyes.  Even when the wind whipped towards him, he made no move, neither swaying nor blinking.

Brooks’s unease suddenly made sense, and he understood.

“You are a Shoggoth, aren’t you?” he asked.

The being only continued to watch him, and he was about to speak again when it finally talked.

“You are Brooks,” he said.  He sounded human, save for a subtle timbre that made a shiver go down Brooks’s spine.

“I am,” he replied, though it had not been a question.

The man turned.  “Come,” he said.

He could ignore the being and continue to his crawler.  Something inside told him that he probably should – but he did not.

Instead, he followed the Shoggoth.

The being said nothing, never even looking back at him, and having no difficulty with snow or climbing.  When Brooks fell behind, the Shoggoth stopped and waited with seemingly infinite patience.

They walked towards the foothills.  There was no way they could go that far, Brooks knew they were many miles away.  But as they walked further, he began to wonder.

They’d been walking over an hour, and he’d had very little information to go on.  He silently sent a signal for his crawler to navigate itself to his location.  He couldn’t do that in the town – a half-buried building could have collapsed under it, trapping his only transport.

The flatness of the immediate environs was broken as the Shoggoth ahead of him turned suddenly, and began to disappear under the snow.

As Brooks caught up, he saw that the being was walking down into a crevasse.

It was raw stone, all its harsh edges worn down by ice over the millenia.  It went down at a slow angle for ten meters, dropping only just under the surface, then veered off to the right.  A chasm above opened it to the air which he had been unable to see before.

He began to follow the being down.  The ramp was shallow, but slick, and he realized that it was not rock, but dense, ancient ice.

Some had survived through the centuries, he’d always known, but he’d never known about this one.

His boots clamped onto the ice with spikes to help him walk, but he was quickly being left behind by the Shoggoth, who seemed entirely untroubled by the slippery surface.

“Wait,” he called.

But the Shoggoth kept going, and Brooks sped up as much as he could.

Finally reaching the bend, he went past it – and saw a crowd waiting for him.

Thirty people stood in the cool dimness of the ice ravine, their eyes all fixed upon him.  Their faces were tranquil, and no two looked alike.  All ages, all sizes, with skin tones and features just as varied.

They had no systems that his could recognize.  Their faces were unknown to the records he had on-hand.

“Hello,” he said, feeling a tingle down his spine.  A strange pressure felt like it was crushing down on him.  The effect of so many of the strange beings all gathered together.

They were all Shoggoths.  They had to be.

None of them spoke, and he was not sure why they were here or what they wanted.

He waited, as they waited.

A male pushed through the group, and Brooks recognized the face as Kell’s.  But that didn’t mean it was him . . .

“Ambassador?” he asked.

“Captain Brooks,” the being replied with a slight nod.

“What are you doing here?” Brooks asked.

“I would ask you the same question,” Kell replied.

“I was born in Perry.  I am visiting my home,” he answered.

“You might say that I am doing the same,” Kell replied.  He looked up, towards the direction of the ruins of the town.  “What was once your home exists near mine, it seems.”


< Ep 4 Part 34 | Ep 4 Part 36 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 34

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“To a safe trip!” Davo said, raising his glass.

Pirra, Alexander, and Eileen all raised their glasses to the toast.

“Here here,” Eileen said.

They drank.  The humans drank wine, while Pirra drank something they called soy sauce; when watered down it was non-toxic to her kind in limited qualities, and tasted a lot like some Dessei drinks.

Her eyes flickered between the members of the family.

This had been a good trip, she thought.  Alexander and his father had not argued once.  Perhaps it was because the topic of his father’s work had not come up – the elder Shaw seemed pleased as long as he got to tell someone, and Pirra was quite happy to be that someone.

Alexander had inherited some of the more gentle qualities of his mother; he was a neobotanist in her footsteps.  For hours, while Davo and Pirra had run off to explode things and play with ultra-hot plasmas, Alexander and his mother had gone over research and the latest breakthroughs in building new plant life from genetic scratch.

It was important work, she knew.  But as much as she loved Alexander, it was not her forte, and she rarely had anything much to add when he talked about work.

“Will your trip back out be as long as the one here?” Eileen asked.

“Not quite as long,” Pirra said.  “We’ll sync up with one of the heavy carriers that’s heading out of the system.  They’ve got permission to use their zerodrive, so we’ll be back at our ship in only a few hours.”

“I’ve still never taken a trip through zerospace,” Davo said.  “I’ve always been curious.”

“It’s a lot less exciting than a dashdrive,” Alexander said.  “Assuming nothing goes wrong, at least.”

“Have you ever been on a ship when something went wrong?” Eileen asked, glancing between her son and daughter-in-law.

“No, no,” Alexander said placatingly.

“I have,” Pirra said.  “Three times.”

Eileen gasped, and Alexander shot her a look, asking her with his eyes to not worry his mom.

Pirra only shrugged.  “In the Response field it’s not unusual.  But don’t worry, there’s a lot of ways out of such a situation – if you’re clever.”

“What happened?” Davo asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Pirra wondered if Alexander got his expressive eyes from his father.  “One of them was an experimental ship where we were tasked with rescuing the data before it accelerated too fast.”

“Too fast?” Eileen asked.

“Yes.  In Zerospace, momentum works differently.  Things will continually accelerate, until they’re moving too fast to be able to return back to our reality.  It takes about three days in most circumstances.  After that – we just don’t have a way to shed the momentum and slow down.  There are some very risky ways to try to come back anyway, but most likely you’d just explode into pseudo-light.”

“Pseudo-light,” Davo grumbled.  “That’s a neophysics particle, right?”

“Yes.  We’re not sure why, but they behave just like photons, so essentially the object would become a massive blast of gamma rays.  But rather than continuing on until they hit something, they rapidly decay into krahteons and seem to seep back into zerospace.”

“If not for that, they’d make for a hell of a weapon,” Davo muttered.

Alexander shot him a dirty look.

Pirra glanced to Alexander, trying to warn him off now.  Did they really have to have a fight at their last dinner . . . ?

“What do your parents have to say about these adventures of yours?” Eileen asked, adroitly shifting the topic.

Though it caught Pirra off-guard.

“Oh, ah . . . not much?  They are proud of my successes.”

“And that’s it?” Davo asked.

Alexander came to her rescue now.  “Dessei don’t tend to be as close to their parents and children as we are,” he said.  “So it’s nothing unusual.  In their own way, they really do care about her.”

“Oh, I see,” Eileen replied, looking troubled.

“Ah, well they’re an ancient people.  I’m sure it all works for them,” Davo said.

Pirra wondered if he was convinced.  He didn’t quite sound it.

It was . . . odd.  Perhaps she should be defending her people more, though Alexander at least explained the differences very politely.

The only part he said that was not true was probably the latter bit.  If her parents did care about her, they did a very good job of hiding it, even by Dessei standards.

“Do you talk to them often?” Eileen asked.  “I hope I’m not being rude – I just want to understand,” she added.

“You’re fine,” Pirra replied.  “We don’t talk often, but at certain times of year they message me.”

Her last such message had been succinct;

We are very proud of you, her mother had written.  And we request that you seek a divorce from your human immediately.

A lovely note, by their standards.

She took a sip of her drink to wash out the bitter taste.  Carefully, though; her real mouth, hidden under the fold of her chin, was little more than a tooth-lined maw, and humans tended to be bothered by it.

Alexander was probably the only one she’d known who wasn’t.  At least, he was the only one she’d let see it.  Even among Dessei there was a certain disrespect at seeing the mouth of someone you were not related to or close friends with.  Some ancient tradition about showing contempt by being willing to take your eyes off a potential enemy.

And thinking of danger brought a question that had been on her mind to the fore.

“I’ve been wondering,” Pirra began.  “What kind of plan do you have here if there’s an emergency?”

“First,” Davo said, leaning forward.  “We make sure no one’s been dabbling in teleportation!”  He laughed uproariously.

It must have been some kind of Phobosan in-joke, she thought.

She smiled, but then continued.  “I’m serious, though.  The moon is hard to catch, you have supply problems, and it’s just . . . such a unique place that it could have novel problems.  Do you guys have any plans in case something happened?”

“What could go wrong?” Davo said.

She hesitated.  She could understand Alex in his native tongue, but she was not great at telling the tones of other humans.  Her system translated his words, and she thought there was an edge to his voice.

She didn’t want to insult him . . .  but at heart, she was a Responder and she wasn’t going to mince words.

“If the moon began to break up, or something collided with it – or something big broke.  There are many possible scenarios.”

“Oh, you over-worry,” Davo said.  “Alex, does she always over-worry like this?”

“She’s good at her job, dad,” he replied.  “I’ve always thought you guys should have more emergency drills.”

“It’s fine,” Davo said.  “We can handle anything the Mars area can throw at us!  I mean, we’ve certainly got the ability to defend ourselves!”

Alex shifted, but before Pirra could interject, Eileen spoke.

“I know that you two . . . can’t have children, of course,” she said suddenly.  “But have you ever considered adoption?”

Alexander almost choked on his food.

“Mom,” he managed to say.  “That’s a little out of the blue, isn’t it?”

“I’m only curious,” she said quickly, seeming to regret changing the topic to this already.

“I’m sure with enough science they could have a child,” Davo said.

“Dad, no, literally it’s impossible for species from different worlds to have any interaction like that.  It’s a miracle that we’re not allergic to each other’s-“

“I mean with genetic re-writing, of course!  Dessei have that tech.  It’d be more like creating something from scratch that shares traits from each of you.”

“So not really our child at all,” Alexander replied dryly.  “And remarkably illegal, I might add.  Dad, do you even pay attention to mom’s work?”

“I failed genetics,” he said laughing.  “But where there’s a will, there’s a way!  You can’t just let a thing like genetics prevent-“

“Dad!”

“Alexander, I’m just saying that it can’t be ruled out!  Not saying you have to.  But for the science, wouldn’t you want to try?”

Eileen spoke.  “Davo, please drop this line of thought.  I just want to know if we’ll ever have grandchildren.  They don’t have to decide now, I just-“

Pirra slammed a hand down on the table, making the three humans jump.

“Adoption is not off the table,” she said firmly.  “The rest is a firm ‘no’.”

An awkward silence fell, but it did not bother her.  She was good at those, when it came to family.

At least this one wouldn’t last for years.

The meal was nearly finished, anyway, and Eileen soon stood.  “Pirra, dear, would you help me with these dishes?”

There were drones for that, but the woman seemed to like to do some busywork herself.  And Pirra was glad to help.

As they left the room, Eileen took the plates from her and put them in the cleaner, then turned to her.

“I’m so very sorry for bringing that up,” she said.  “And sorry for, well . . . everything Davo said.  He . . . thinks genetics is just like tinkering.”  She shook her head.  “I swear, that man – a genius in some ways and then a total . . .”  She trailed off.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Pirra told her, liking the woman greatly.  “I know that it’s important to parents to see their line continue on.  And that . . . well, that we can’t do that.”

“No matter what,” Eileen said, “the important part is that you and Alex are happy.  That’s the best thing I could wish for.”

Pirra felt a warmth in her chest.  “Thank you, Eileen.”

“Oh,” the woman said, laughing.  “You can call me ‘mom’ if you want.”

The casual human word had no equivalent in her language.  She couldn’t even quite make the sound; but the offer meant something to her all the same.

“Thank you, mom,” she said, the human-like smile coming as a second-nature and truly meant.

Eileen hugged her suddenly, and Pirra was thrown off again.  Her own mother had not hugged her since she was immature, and even then it had only been for warmth on a cold day.

As little emotion as it naturally would trigger, she still knew that it meant something coming from Eileen.

Awkwardly, she returned it.

“You are so good,” Eileen said.  “I’m so glad that Alexander met you.”

She thought back on her own days in her youth of fascination with humanity.  She’d been considered odd for her interest in another species.  At times, even something of an outcast.

But it had put her on the path to meeting Alexander – and Eileen and Davo.

“I’m glad, too,” she cooed, leaning into the hug.


< Ep 4 Part 33 | Ep 4 Part 35 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 33

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


There were no headstones for the thousands who had died.  Too many had died, too quickly, for anything other than a mass grave to be possible.  He had always thought that one day this place would be reclaimed, but now seeing as it bordered on the land ceded to the Shoggoths, it was unlikely that the town of Perry would ever live again.

Part of him was all right with that.

But there was a memorial, at least.  A marble, still maintained by a caretaker who came in on alternating weeks to clean and preserve their memory.  Brooks knew the man well, Sylus Tanaka.  He’d have to write to him soon, to thank him again for his work.  The man did not do it for accolades, though.  He had lost everyone in the fimbulwinter.

He had been older than Brooks, nearly 75 when the disaster had occurred, still in his prime.  Now, decades later, he was finally starting to approach the age where it showed.

The monument listed the names of over 9,000 people on each of its six faces.  It still didn’t cover all of them.  It had been a city of 70,000, and less than 6,000 had survived through the long winter.

The disaster itself had not dropped much wreckage on them.  But the ensuing disappearance of the sun from the dust and smoke of the fires had plunged them into true antarctic temperatures, as bad as some of the glacial periods.  Nothing had been built to withstand cold that extreme.  And there had been impacts, as debris in orbit came down.

Too much critical damage, as the time went on.  Too few supplies.  People had rationed and kept faith with each other, for years.  But eventually, the cold encroaching, with families falling asleep in their beds and never waking up, it had broken down.

The survivors had only lasted by digging down as deep into the ground as they could, using anything to keep warm, scrounging for food in the town.  Primitive hydroponics.  Never enough food.  Always hungry.  Shivering and burning off too many calories.

For a lot of them, it had been too much.

He gazed at the list of names.  Organized by their proximity to each other, to keep together, even in death, a community.

Ai Goto, Donovan Yamazaki, Ryo Takada, Lise Zhang, Li Chen, Bai Liang, Zaim Aliyya, Dasha Aldwin, Sivert Karol . . .   All the names of neighbors, childhood friends.

His eyes travelled to a familiar spot on the marble, and his thumb stroked over the name of Clemence Brooks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, for the ten thousandth time to his younger sister, who had fallen asleep and passed to a mortal dream in the span of a night that had lasted for years.

Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Brooks took out the taiyaki he’d picked up on his way here.  They had been her favorite treat.

He smiled slightly, remembering how they’d joked that these were the only fish she’d ever eat.

“Split it with you,” he said, his voice sounding even to his own ears like that of a boy.

Breaking it in half, he set the larger piece in the snow for her, and opened his face mask for a moment to put his portion in his mouth.  The wind slashed at him, a pain like a lash, but then he closed his mask and ate the taiyaki slowly.  Trying to savor it.

There, in the snow, he saw something else, that had apparently nearly been swallowed by the ice.

Carefully, be pulled it free.  It was a small plush seal.  On it, faded by the sun, were the words;

With love, from sis.  Always thinking of you.

-Maria

He re-settled it with the taiyaki against it, and rose.  With a last look, he turned, and continued on his path.

He was already exhausted, already feeling chilled to the bone even though his suit kept him warm, but his journey was not done yet.


The streets in the residential district were less intact than the earlier areas.  They were lighter, easier to knock down, and easier to disassemble for parts to repair other houses.

But his was still there.  It was still in good shape.  He knew that, because he’d been the one to scrounge and repair it.

His mind flashed back to a cold December morning.  His parents had said their goodbyes the night before, leaving before he’d even gotten up.  A close friend of the family’s had woken him, telling him there had been an accident.

It had been more from the light outside the window, that strange shade of reddish gray, that he’d realized just how serious things were.

With the neighbor – a kindly woman who he’d always called Aunt, even though they weren’t related – he’d gone outside.

A red glow seemed to swallow the Northern skyline, and the sound of booms still managed to reach them, though the impacts were thousands of miles away.

Or perhaps those had been the sound of smaller impacts nearby.  Those had started less than an hour after the initial catastrophe.

Later on, he’d seen footage of the collapse start; the initial shudder that no one could ever explain, that a million theories had been invented to explain.  All inadequate, yet they all accepted them, because how else could you understand what had happened?

The orbital ring had been built up over hundreds of years.  It should have been nearly impossible to have it fall, and yet the shaking had quickly become resonant, and not long after it had fallen apart.

Then the space elevators around the equator had collapsed.  That was where his parents had been, going to their jobs that had kept them away from home three days a week and with he and his siblings for four.  Just bad luck it had come on the day they were off to work.

If not for the supply drops shot down from above, they all would have died.  But they’d been rare, never enough.  Or . . . rather just enough.

With the dense kessler syndrome, even those drops had been risky.  Though unmanned, so much small debris was circling for so long that they risked a collision that would make it even worse.

Many had gone off-course, and as soon as he could he’d started volunteering to be among those to go retrieve what they needed . . .

He’d been standing outside the house for ten minutes now, he realized.

He felt cold even though his suit told him his skin temperature was the same as it would be in a temperate environment.  Even his face was back up to a pleasant temperature, though he still felt a tingle where the wind had touched him.

Going to the door, he saw that the mat was buried under ice.  Only the steps up kept the door from being blocked.

But it was okay.  He’d not locked the door the last time he’d left.

It was hard to force open, but he managed, and went inside.

The house still seemed to exude warmth somehow.  But it felt like cold mockery, a hint of false comfort that was taunting.

The main hall led to a living room empty of furniture.  He’d wound up burning it all.  Even the carpet had been torn up and fed to the flame.

The kitchen, his bedroom – that he’d deliberately emptied so long ago.

His parents’ room.

It was the only room somewhat intact.  Though anything wooden or cloth had been salvaged, he’d set up just a simple metal sheet on which he’d carved their names.  There could be no burial of what had burned in the atmosphere.  This was the only physical remembrance of Nabil and Dorothy Brooks.

The darkened image frames once had shown pictures of them, until their batteries had drained.  Nothing could be spared to charge them, however much he’d wanted.  Even the atomic batteries, that lasted decades, had been taken away to help power something that grew food or kept them warm or cleaned the water.

Lowering himself to his knees, he sat back on his haunches, simply looking at the memorial, lost in his own memories.

“Mom,” he said.  “Dad.  I missed you.”


< Ep 4 Part 32 | Ep 4 Part 34 >

Episode 4 – Home, part 32

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


The snow crawler came to a shuddering stop.

Brooks checked that his suit was set to meet the ambient air temperature – a balmy -30C – and put his helmet on.  It was lightweight, the front a curved glass panel that was as clear as air.

He opened the door.

The wind blasted past, but despite its strength there was nothing to blow.  Antarctica received very little snowfall, and what had come down recently had been long since swept away.

He felt cool, but not cold, his suit working well.

He walked forward.  He was only at the outskirts, and he had a ways left to go.

Structures still stood in what had once been a town.  Many were half-buried, the snow that had fallen in the previous decades having built up to the point of turning to a dense firn that resisted the scouring winds.

He walked on, observing.

Some of the houses were buried up the first floor on some sides, out of the wind.  Others were already partially submerged in ice.

The onset had been rapid, and more intense than they had anticipated.  He wondered if, millions of years ago, when this land had first frozen, if the earliest ice had formed as quickly.

There was not the slightest sign of life.  What that was Earthly could live in such a place?

Certainly not humans, not with the conditions that had come after the Ringfall.  Too much damage had been done across the equator for help to come.  Things were bad everywhere, but short of the devastation areas themselves, none had been worse off than here.

It had been the follow-up debris de-orbiting down upon them that had slowly wrecked their oasis – that and the fimbulwinter that had brought the cold.

He looked out at an empty field.  He could recognize that it had once been a park.  He could recall days in his youth of running across the grass that grew in the summer months.  That building, just beyond, had been a restaurant.

Without even thinking about it he found himself crossing the field, walking in what he imagined were his own footsteps – though the ground was now a meter below him, under firn and ice.

The park seemed smaller than he remembered, and he reached the restaurant.  The windows were still intact, but he knew a way to get in.

Going around back, he found that the rising ice had made it easier to climb the dumpster and reach the second floor window that had been broken.  Even the sharp edges of the glass had been broken and worn down, by hundreds of feet that had come in here, seeking temporary shelter, or hoping to find some kind of food or fuel.

He went in.

The floor tiles were more faded than in his memory.  All of it was smaller than he remembered.  But he’d been a young man the last time he’d come in here.

Walking deeper, he knew this had once been an apartment for the couple that had run the restaurant.

There was little sign of them.  The man, Adam, had died early on.  His wife had survived a few more years, but then she too had died of hypothermia after the primary reactors for the town had to be shut down.

Her body had long since been taken away and given a proper burial, and their personal effects had all been taken or lost.

Anything that could be burned had been pried up, and there wasn’t even a bed left on the metal frame.

On the floor, he saw just one empty image frame, the screen that had projected various photographs having long-since lost power.

Following the path he’d taken when, he too, had been scavenging, he arrived in the kitchen below.

There, on the tile.  He could still see the dark stain – or at least a trace of it.  It had not been scoured clean in all these decades.

Kneeling, he brushed a hand over it.

Blood had spilled here, from a knife into the side of a man who had been trying to kill him for a bag with three dented emergency rations and a single mostly-empty fuel cannister.

The first time he’d ever killed a man.

He hadn’t even known it at the time.  His knife had struck deep as the man was raising a brick to crush his skull.

The man had tumbled back into the burners, knocking one off its seating, it had crashed to the floor, and he could still see it there, at an angle to the wall.

After that, he’d run and Brooks had let him.  He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’d been scrounging, and he was good at it most of the time, but this man had come from another town further towards the mountains that were even colder, whose power had been knocked out by falling debris long before.  Perhaps the last of a dying town.

He’d run off into the snow, and no one had ever seen him again.  Years later, a drone scan had found him.  He’d bled out, losing his strength in the cold until he’d gone to sleep and never awoken.

Like so many others, except he might not have faced that fate if Brooks had not stabbed him, no matter how justified it had been.

He left the store, though not running as fast as he did when he’d only been sixteen.


< Ep 4 Part 31 | Ep 4 Part 33 >