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

---

He’d been rocking for over an hour now.

Sitting in the middle of the room, Iago had removed most of the furniture, getting rid of some, and placing others in storage.  A lot of things had been knocked around in all the actions the ship had seen – while normally such things were secured prior to going into action, he . . .

He’d forgotten.

It was a good excuse, though, to get rid of it all.

He didn’t need it – didn’t need the objects he felt sure were full of scanners and bugs.

He’d found one, in the new chair that Zeela Cann had had brought to him recently, when he’d broken the arm of the old one.

Broken, a part of his mind asked.  Or had they set it up to fail to justify putting the spying device in his room?

He had torn the new chair apart until he’d found it.  He’d known it would be there.  It was cleverly disguised as a smartchip, but he knew the tell-tale signs of it being more.  The angles on the circuitboard were a little too curved, some of the colors not quite the standard shade of green.  This was top-level equipment, disguised incredibly well as something mundane.

He was sure of it.

Clutching it in his hand, so hard that the edges cut him, he ignored the pain, and rocked more.

Why had everyone he trusted turned on him?  The Captain, Zeela, even Pirra.  They had treated him like an outsider – spied on him, lied to him.

It had to be because of what he’d seen.

Sometimes he wondered if any of it was actually real.  Perhaps they’d never even gone into combat.  Perhaps in the night they had taken him and hooked him into a system that merely tricked his mind into thinking he was experiencing these events.

For all he knew they weren’t even in the Mopu system.

Elliot was out doing volunteer work helping to repair part of the irrigation system in the garden.  Easy work, it would be good for him.  Even if it wasn’t real, it would help allay their suspicion and give the boy something to focus on.

He’d always kept a few Blank Boxes around, for security reasons.  Just turn them on, they jammed nearly all recording or spying equipment in a small, adjustable radius.  The smart system would provide enough false data to not arouse suspicion.

Of course, by even using it, if they were paying serious attention, they would see through it.  He’d know for sure, if they came for him when he put it on.

An even better reason to get Elliot out.

He hardly wanted his son here if they came in to take him away . . . to where, he couldn’t even fathom.  But if they had lied to him this much, manipulated, used him . . . then they might do anything.  There might be a secret deck . . .

No, there couldn’t be a secret deck, he scolded himself.  He knew the Craton inside and out!

Unless . . . unless he’d never known it?

He was too afraid to contemplate that to its conclusion.

A sound chimed on his door, and his heart nearly stopped.

But the door didn’t open, and no one even requested entry.

For a moment, he waited, for the door to be forced open and for a Response team to rush in.  To think it could even be Pirra leading them, to arrest him . . .

All for what he’d seen.

Because they were after that knowledge, weren’t they?  They didn’t know what harm it could do, did do, had done to him.  They would only want to know it so they could know the thing, to know all things.  Catalogue them, put them in a computer record and then lock it away.  Along with him.

Just not Elliot . . .

Pirra had always loved him like family.  His only hope remained that, if they had to take him, she might be kind to his son.

Because right now they had no way out.

The door, he realized, had not been forced.

He wanted to look out with the camera, but his own Blank Box was preventing that.

Rising, he went to the door, listening through it for the tell-tale sound of armed officers moving, shuffling, waiting.  But he heard nothing.

Opening the door cautiously, he saw no one.

But on the floor near his door was a small plastic card.

Taking it, he saw it was folded in half.  He stepped back inside, moving away from the door in case they still blasted it open.

Then he opened the card.  In the dim light he preferred anymore, it was hard to read, but he could still make it out.

What you have seen is a gift, it said.  I can help you.

Await further contact.

His heart was beating again, his pulse pounding.

This could be a trap, he thought.  But no . . .  No, it wasn’t.

There was an image below it.  It was a cube, the three-dimensional object rendered in 2D with lines . . . but there was an extra set of lines, that connected to nothing, heading off into . . .

Into a space beyond the spaces they knew.  Beyond the dimensional space that all of humanity before him had ever been limited to . . .

Iago Caraval, a man who believed himself lost, realized that he was not alone.

Someone else knew.

Someone else was on his side.

Tears streaked down his cheeks and he slid to the floor, crying and laughing both.

---

< Ep 6 Part 59 | Ep 6 Part 61 >

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

---

The event had ended hours ago, and afterwards Apollonia had returned to her room and fallen asleep almost immediately.  She hadn’t felt right since . . .  Well, she wasn’t sure what happened after she had passed out in the armory.  No one had told her how she had been saved, what had happened to the Hev that had blown in the door.  Maybe some kind of automated defense system?  Though she’d heard that the Hev had somehow blanked the computers in the area, killing such defenses.

She knew something had happened.  But she did not want to examine it deeper.  It did not sit well with her to probe into such things, even when it affected her directly.  She’d spent her whole life in ignorance, and sometimes – sometimes – she thought it was better for some things to remain unknown.

It hadn’t felt like she’d been asleep long when the urgent message woke her.

It was only a voice; Jaya.

“Apollonia Nor, report to my office in thirty minutes.”

Her stomach flipped, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle food.

She really wanted to just go back to sleep, ignore the call.  She would have at another time in her life, but now . . .

She didn’t want to betray the trust of some people.  Not again.

Dragging herself up, she considered a stim, but those never sat right with her, and she ended up feeling horrible a few hours afterwards.

Instead she drank a quick cup of tea, dressed in the best clothes she had – a slightly more formal jumpsuit with the ship’s name and an SU logo on it.  It felt appropriate.

Making her way to the office, she remembered that her system was still blanked out, and while it could do basic functions like guide her, it had lost all of her personal data.

Looking through it, she felt a pang as she realized that even meant the Abmon language pack she’d gotten on her return trip to the Craton after visiting Earth . . .

She didn’t actually need it anymore.  Squats on Sand had been the only one of his kind aboard, and they might not even get another Abmon, given what had happened to him.

But she downloaded it again anyway.

Once she was at Jaya’s door, she stopped and adjusted her outfit, trying to look a little presentable.  Turning her tablet screen to mirror mode, she saw that she was . . . well, frumpy.  As usual.

She went in.

Jaya was sitting at her desk, as she so often was, and only glanced up as Apollonia entered.

“Sit,” the woman said, her eyes already back on her work.

Doing so, Apollonia realized with a start that they weren’t alone.  Another woman was in the room, who Apollonia knew was another of the command officers, yet she found that she couldn’t remember her name.

The woman waited patiently, leaned against the wall in a way that still somehow seemed formal.

“I believe you two have met,” Jaya said finally, looking up.

“Uh, yes,” Apollonia said.  She had been introduced to them all, she just had a terrible memory.

Kai, she thought.  That might have been her name.

“I’m Kai Yong Fan,” the woman said.  “It has been awhile, Ms. Nor.”

“Ah, right.  Thank you.”

Jaya glanced at Kai.

“You understand why we are here, I imagine.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Apollonia said.  Her fear was growing stronger, along with her guilt.

“Dereliction of duty is a charge that we take most seriously,” Jaya said.  “And I must say – I am sorry.”

Apollonia felt like her chair had dropped away.  “What?”

“I failed you.  I should not have let you into such deep waters alone,” Jaya continued.  “It was my self-appointed task of training you, preparing you for your duties.  And I did not do that sufficiently.”

Jaya sighed, looking down again.  “Therefore, I cannot entirely blame you for your fear.”

Kai was still saying nothing, her face impassive, and Apollonia sincerely wondered what her part in this was going to be.  If Jaya was being good cop, did that mean that Kai would be the bad?

“You understand that it does not entirely excuse you for your actions,” Jaya continued.  “You did betray the trust of your comrades.”

“They were probably better off without me, to be honest,” Apollonia said, mumbling slightly.

She could tell that was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.  “I know that’s not the point.  It’s just my . . . self-loathing, I guess.”

“I know you stated that you did not feel very useful, given your lack of augmentations,” Kai said.  “But this is not the point.  In nearly all circumstances we have assistance with heavy work.  It is the point of having the human element, the human mind judging a situation and devising what is right according to what matters to us that is important.  And a group effort is what makes it strong.  This is how you failed your Volunteer unit.”

Jaya spoke.  “This is correct.  Ultimately, you did not wrong us – but your comrades.”

“Will I . . . have a chance to apologize to them?” she asked.

“If you feel it necessary, of course,” Kai said.

She actually seemed like nicer cop.  Or at least neutral cop.  Was that a thing?

“Now, Apollonia,” Jaya continued.  “Would you like to continue to be a member of the Volunteers?”

Her stomach squirmed more.  The bold part of her, that wanted to become everything she could and more, wanted to jump at that opportunity.

But maybe she wasn’t ready?  She wasn’t trying to second-guess herself into inaction, but get a realistic grip on what she could actually do.

“I’d like to help people,” she said finally.  “I’d like to help.  To do my part, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jaya asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, I guess that’s how to phrase it.  I mean what I say!  But . . . I’m not sure if I’m worthy of being in the Volunteers right now.”

It was Kai’s turn to look surprised.  Apollonia took that badly until the woman spoke.

“That is a good insight into yourself,” she said.  “Many Volunteers who fail either give up entirely on such work, or else continue to have a false idea of their own abilities.”

“Oh.  So that’s good?  What I said, I mean.”

“It is,” Jaya answered.  “And frankly, I would like to see you back in the Volunteers – eventually.  But Commander Kai and I have been speaking and we both believe that you need more mentoring before it would be good for you to do that.”

More education?  Oh, it just never seemed to end.

“All right,” she said instead.

“Jaya has been kind enough to aid you,” Kai said.  “But there are other resources, and you know she is quite busy.”

“Yeah,” Apollonia agreed.  So perhaps Jaya was just washing her hands of her . . .

But looking at the woman, she didn’t see loathing or hate on her face.  She didn’t see judgment or condemnation.

No, a part of her realized.  Jaya wasn’t abandoning her.  She was doing her best – and sometimes that meant handing a task over to someone else.

“Commander Yaepanaya and I will both provide several tutors for you,” Kai said.  “You will meet with them in lieu of meeting with Jaya for your preparations to take the officer candidacy test.  Is this acceptable to you?”

“What?  Oh, yes!  Absolutely.”  Apollonia swallowed hard.  “But do I get a . . . black mark on my record for my failure?”

“It is noted in your record,” Jaya said plainly.  “Because we do need to know what has been done in the past.  But as for it reflecting upon you – such things can change based on your future performance.”

“Okay,” Apollonia said.  Of all the ‘chewing outs’ she’d had, this was not like any other.

Jaya stood, and offered her hand.  “Thank you, Ms. Nor.”

Standing up, Apollonia was not sure why Jaya was offering her hand.  “I think I should be thanking you.”

Jaya smiled thinly.  “We will see each other again, but not as regularly.  I look forward to the day when you become an officer.”

Oh.  So it was . . . goodbye.

Apollonia felt a fresh sorrow flood through her, and she shook the woman’s hand more vigorously.  “Yeah . . . I look forward to that, too.”

---

< Ep 6 Part 58 | Ep 6 Part 60 >

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

---

He’d heard humans sometimes say that the severely injured looked smaller, and he mused with no mirth that it was true in Logus’s case.

That the man had survived this long was one of those things that was difficult to explain.  That human concept of will overcoming the impossible was one he had never accepted, instead believing that numerous small factors combined to inject more unpredictability into outcomes.

He felt shaken in this belief, because Arn Logus should not be alive now.

His right arm was gone, torn off by the armor-piercing rounds that had penetrated the door of the bunker.  Beyond that, his entire shoulder was too damaged to restore, along with the lung on that side of his body, and a portion of his lower mandible, taken off near the joint.

Humanity were so frail, he thought.  And yet they trekked out into the stars anyway, aware on at least some level of the danger that faced them.

Reality was so often cruel to biological life . . .

Yet they still went out.

Perhaps one day, he’d understand why they so desperately fought for such things.

“Hello, friend,” he said, turning his voice cheery, though he did not feel it, as he began to replace some of the bandages.  A number of drones aided him.

The evidence suggested Logus was not aware, but sometimes the subconscious understood things in its own way.  A primitive, yet highly powerful system of the human mind.

So he would talk to his friend, and perhaps in some way it would help.

“After preliminary repairs are done, we will be heading to Gohhi Station.  Isn’t that exciting?  I know you have always wished to visit the place.  So rare to find a human system that is not in the Sapient Union and is friendly!  Or, well, friendly enough.  I have heard stories from there . . .”

Perhaps that was not wise to talk about right now, he decided.

“. . . but I’ll tell you those another time.  The doctors there have far more equipment than I do – an entire cloning lab!  It will not be long before they are fusing a fresh arm and shoulder and . . . lung . . .”

He felt parts of his mind at war with itself.  Different emotional cores were experiencing surges of feelings that were creating conflicting desires, and it was overwhelming.

He should keep talking.

He should give his friend silence.

He could not bear to say more words.

He was a coward for not saying them.

Finishing his work in silence, he dismissed the drones, and restructured his schedule.

Words still did not come, but he would stay here for awhile.

---

< Ep 6 Part 57 | Ep 6 Part 59 >

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

---

Pirra looked at the caskets of the people she’d known.  Jack Lal and Abioye Suarez, both good and loyal officers, now resting cold among many others.

“I am sorry,” she said.  “But your duty has ended.  Rest now with the heroes and legends of our memory.”

The old Dessei parting for the dead felt a little hollow to her when said it out loud, perhaps even trite.  But she still was glad to have said it.

Standing there for a few moments longer, taking the time to try and remember the good moments with her comrades, she barely noticed as Alexander came up behind her.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.

She stood up straighter.  “I’m fine,” she said automatically.

Alexander’s eyebrow rose quizzically, that peculiar human gesture with the . . . well, she’d called them something along the lines of ‘tiny face crests’ for a long time.  She had learned what the gesture meant, at least.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he told her, his tone still gentle.

“I know,” she said.  “But I am okay.  At least, I have to tell myself that I am.”

“You can’t become an island, Pirra-“

“I am not an island,” she replied, fighting down annoyance.  That had a much different meaning to her people than humankind, and she hated it when he misused the phrase.  To suggest it meant she was isolating herself?  All her people’s nations were islands!  Islands were a community!

“I just mean,” he continued doggedly, “that you can’t suppress how you feel.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her crest going down.  It had risen unbidden in anger.  Her eyes closed and she kept them that way.

“I know what you mean.  And I appreciate it.  This is something I will work through – that I will have to work through.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him.  “I have to do it, because people are depending on me – I could be needed at any moment, even now.  But I have to do it my way, and my way is not crying on anyone’s shoulder.”

Alexander listened to her, considering her words.  “All right,” he said finally.  “I understand that.  I just . . . I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have support if you need it.”

She felt the affection and love she held for him rising, and put her arms around him, pressing her head to his.  “I know I have that,” she said to him.  “You truly are the best, and I love-“

Someone cleared their throat.  It was not a human throat.

Raising her head, she saw, standing not three meters away, a regally dressed Dessei.  His coloration was much like hers, and he was her height, with eyes the same red as her own.

“Greetings, Councilor Tallei,” she said formally.

Tallei’s crest and face did not budge in the slightest.  “Am I interrupting?” he asked in a manner worthy of high inner circles, his crest moving just the right shade to suggest his thoughtfulness, but not overplay it.

He did, of course, know that he was interrupting.

“Of course not,” she said, equally as formally, repeating in just the same fashion the nearly-courtly demeanor.

Alexander, she knew, did not quite understand the significance.  But he could tell the change in her body language, the formality of her movements.

“I am going to go talk to Mina,” he said.  “I know she’s grieving quite hard over Jack . . .”

“Thank you,” she told him.  “Would you give her my condolences, too?  I will join you as soon as I can – after I am done talking to the councilor.”

Alexander hesitated.  Something about the way she’d said the title was . . . if not informal, it was nearly rude.

“Of course,” he said, taking it in stride.

She loved that he understood when he needed to just play along.

After he was out of earshot, she spoke again, dropping entirely her polite language.

“It’s nice to see you again, Brother,” she said.

“You as well, Sister,” Tallei replied.  Amusement crept into him.  “I am glad I was in time to preserve your life.”

“You just came running because of Mother,” she retorted.

He showed offense.  “You know that I do care about your life,” he replied.

“Yes, but you could only have come if She had ordered it,” Pirra shot back.  “Is this why we’re alive right now?  Mother’s protectiveness?”

“I would think you would be more grateful,” Tallei replied.  “Happy that your ship and the majority of your comrades and . . . significant other . . . are all alive.  Or am I incorrect in assuming that?”

“You are not,” she said, annoyance growing.  “But I do wonder what Mother has asked you to pass onto me.”

Tallei was amused, his crest fluttering in a way that was almost derisive.  “You’re always so defensive, Sister.  We only had what was best for you in mind, as always.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, but vaguely enough that it was not overtly rude.

His crest dipped twice rapidly, a signal that someone was approaching.  She turned, and saw Kessissiin coming over.  He offered a very formal and polite crest droop, perfectly in line with addressing an honored councilor.

“May I come and greet you?” he asked.

“Of course,” Tallei replied.  “You need not be so formal, friend.”

Friend?  The Tallei she knew would not have said that to someone of Kessissiin’s island and rank, not when he was in a formal situation.

Unless . . .  They already knew each other.

She found herself floored by that realization.  What it might mean.

Kessissiin had come over, chatting politely – with proper deference – to Tallei, who continued to insist he need not be so formal, while of course Kessissiin absolutely did have to continue being so formal.

“And you serve under my Sister, is that not right.” Tallei commented, it clearly being a statement of fact despite being phrased as a question.

“Of course, and a glorious leader she is,” Kessissiin replied.  “Though I do not . . . serve under her directly.”

“No?  Sister, what does my friend Kessissiin do in Response?” Tallei asked.

“He, uh, he’s in the Volunteer Response Corp,” she said.

“That’s it?”  Tallei’s crest flattened.  “But from what I understand, he fought with great gallantry in the last battle!”

“Yes,” she agreed, not looking at Kessissiin as she said it.  “His unit acquired arms against orders and defended part of the ship.  While he and . . . the unit’s commander exalted themselves, the rest of their unit were not of their skill and perished in the battle.”

Which was, of course, why they were not supposed to be in combat.

“Oh dear,” Tallei said.  “How unfortunate.  Ah, yes, surely some of the heroic dead we are giving our gratitude to tonight.  Please forgive my terrible manners.”  He paused.  “. . . but surely you will now be placing my friend Kessissiin’s talents where they will be most fitting?  He has proved his personal skill greatly.  It would be . . . a borderline insult to not bring him into your unit – the most prestigious unit.”

Pirra could only founder as to why Tallei was picking this direction to come at her from.  She could not understand it.  Unless Kessissiin was a spy . . . ?  But no, part of her service on the human ship involved all data of her actions being forwarded to her people.  There was hardly anything they could learn from Kessissiin that they could not from that data.

Perhaps he was to protect her . . . ?  The thought rankled her.

“I will, of course, take it under advisement, but I have not yet had time to deal with personnel issues.”

“Ah.  A pity.  Well, come friend Kessissiin.  Accompany me, would you?”

“I would be honored,” the other Dessei said, again lowering his crest.

“Oh, I hope you have time to attend to those personnel issues soon, Sister,” Tallei said to her in parting.

---

< Ep 6 Part 56 | Ep 6 Part 58 >

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

---

The space was normally the largest landing deck on the Craton, but it had been quickly turned into a somber ceremonial suite.

Several hundred of the Craton’s crew and civilians stood, watching the thirty-four caskets – one more than earlier, with Midshipman Waskohska succumbing to her wounds only a few hours before – that were set near the airlock.  It and that entire wall had been made into a screen, showing the stars beyond.

Brooks stood elevated, and behind him stood some dignitaries who had come to help honor the dead.  N’Keeea, Siilon, Tallei, their staffs, and even a representative from Supreme General K’Tekek, who had hurried from the inner system.  Along with most of the command crew of the Craton herself.

Brooks looked at the caskets, committing their names to memory.  He had plenty of ways to remind himself of those who had died under his command, but he always wanted to do his best to remember them himself.

He felt grateful that he had not yet reached the point where he could not remember all the names.

Turning slowly, he looked solemnly across the crew waiting.

Each of them had known the deceased closely.  Co-workers, friends, or more – each of them held a frame with an image of the dead.

As he looked over them, he saw, standing alone with He That Squats on Yellow Sand’s image, was Apollonia.

He felt his throat threaten to tighten on him, but he pressed on.

“We remember today those who have fallen in the line of duty,” he said.  “Family, partners . . . friends.  Good souls who gave their last drop of devotion to help others.  Not simply their crew, but billions of lives – of beings they had never met.  Such an act is not easy.  It would have been simple for us all to look away, to deem the risk and cost too much.  But we did not, and thousands stepped forward, waiting to pay that cost with their lives.”

He turned sharply, saluting the caskets.

“Read the roll of honor,” he said.

Urle stepped up.

“Len Ackerman!”

The assembled crew snapped to attention at the name, giving their final salute to the fallen man.

“Alize Waskohska.

“Jack Lal.

“He That Squats on Yellow Sand.”

The names continued.  All thirty-four of them.  For each, a final salute.

Urle stepped back, and Brooks turned fully to gaze out at the stars.

In some eras, a body would be given to the sea, or even the void.  In this day, they would go back to their families and peoples.

But a missile was launched for each of them.  Streaking out, trailing a burning light that ended in a burst of color.  Each explosion staggered out just after the last to create a line that receded ever further.

Brooks saluted now as well.

“We thank you all.”

---

The event formally ended, but all began to mingle.

Brooks let others speak among themselves, not wishing to butt into any of their private grief.  He simply stood in his own.

He could make no claim on the level of grief the people who knew and loved or admired or respected the dead felt, but a captain’s grief was still uniquely his.  To say he had failed them had a measure of truth, but sometimes even when everything was done properly people died.

It didn’t make it easier, and hovering behind it all was a consideration of his own actions.  Had he done all he could?

The Maig may have fired the weapons, but it may have been his hand that put them there.

Such contemplation was best saved for later, when he was alone.  When he should be sleeping, a part of him noted wryly.

He looked around, to see if anyone needed someone to speak to, and saw Apollonia again.

He’d seen the girl looking miserable and alone quite often, but her reason for looking that way now was quite clear.

He moved towards her, noting as he came closer the increasing feel of uneasiness.  It was easy to learn to ignore it when all was well, but when things became harder, it oppressed more.

He fought it back.

“Apollonia,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, clutching the image of Squats on Sand.

“He didn’t have any family here,” she said quickly.  “He deserved someone to be here for him.”

Brooks nodded.  “I imagine he would have been glad to see you standing for him.  From what I understand, you two had become fast friends.”

“I seem to have a much easier time relating to aliens,” Apollonia said, her eyes unfocused.

“It’s not as uncommon as you might think,” Brooks told her gently.  “And it says nothing but good things about you.  To look at beings with different evolutionary histories, that look far different from us, even monstrous in our eyes – be able to accept them with reverence, brotherhood and trust is perhaps the greatest thing we can hope to achieve as a species.”

Apollonia stared at him, caught off-guard.  “That’s . . . really lovely.  Did you just . . . ?”

“No,” Brooks replied, looking a little sheepish.  “I’m paraphrasing Carl Sagan.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” Apollonia said, a laugh coming out, that turned quickly to tears.

Brooks hugged her.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” she said quietly.

“Rarely do they,” Brooks replied in a soft tone.

Apollonia said nothing for a long time, and with open expressions of sorrow, or joy, or solemn remembrance happening around them in a thousand different microcosms of people’s experiences, he knew that they did not stand out in the slightest.

“You know I failed, right?” Apollonia finally said, her voice still quiet.

“I know what happened,” he told her, his voice gentle.  “I’m sorry that . . .  I wanted to respect your right to choose your path, but perhaps . . . this was too soon.”

Part of her wanted to take his words as patronizing so that she might be annoyed, but it had been too much, too soon.  She’d wanted to help, and instead become a greater burden.

“I don’t want to fail again,” she said, pulling away from him and wiping her face.  The thought of how undignified she must look came to mind, but . . . seeing other people around them, equally or even more grief-stricken, reminded her that there was no shame in the emotion right now.

“I won’t impede you in whatever you choose to do,” Brooks said.  “But I am always willing to give advice if you want it.”

“And what would your advice be right now?” she asked, looking past him.  In the distance, she saw Jaya.  Who hadn’t spoken to her since the battle had ended.  Yet she had a feeling . . .

“I think you should start smaller,” Brooks told her.  “Continue your studies.  You can still be involved in groups and matters on the ship to help you become who you want to be.  They may seem petty or small right now, but if you learn from them then they will be stepping stones towards your goals.”

“That’s some good advice,” she admitted.  “You know, though . . .  I kind of wonder if Jaya is going to kill me.”

The woman had caught her eye, and to say she looked angry was an understatement.

“Jaya?  She may be upset about many things,” Brooks said.  She took it somewhat as an evasion.

“Well, she’s upset at me,” Apollonia replied.

“She can be that way.  She may very well chew you out to some degree.  But she won’t leave you out in the cold, either, when she’s done, unless that’s what you need.  And on top of that, she quite likes you.”

Apollonia blinked.  “She likes me?”

“Yes, I think she considers you a friend,” Brooks said.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that, but it was out now.

“She isn’t a very social person,” he continued, “and while it is normal for her to help you, I think she’s gone out of her way a lot.”

That just made her feel worse . . .  She’d not just disappointed a mentor, but a friend.

It must have shown, as Brooks added; “My point is that she won’t hold onto her anger with you.”

She nodded.  “Well, thank you Captain.  I think that I’ll go mingle with some other people,” she said.

“Jaya is coming over here, isn’t she?” Brooks asked.

“I’m actually quite close,” Jaya said from behind him.

He turned.  “Commander,” he said formally.

“No need to be so formal right now, Ian,” Jaya replied coolly.  She looked at Apollonia.  “You go and mingle.  We will talk later, and as the Captain says . . . I will absolutely chew you out.”

Apollonia swallowed.  “Yes, ma’am.”

As she walked away, she heard Jaya round on Brooks.  “Did you truly say I am not a social person?”

“That is literally how you describe yourself,” Brooks replied.

But there wasn’t any real anger in either of them, she thought, and she felt oddly buoyed as she walked away.

---

< Ep 6 Part 54 | Ep 6 Part 56 >

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

---

Three hours later, the P’G’Maig Hev contacted Commodore Siilon and requested a cease-fire.

The request was granted, and what followed was, in my view, an extremely contrite apology from Overlord Ks’Kull.  The attempts on my life, as well as that of Ambassadors Kell and Decinus, Dr. Logus, as well as the entire crew of the Craton were, according to him, “the carefully-planned result of a traitor who had sought to destroy his reputation and ruin the chances for peace”.  He even showed the corpse of the supposed traitor, another body-double, and offered to hand it over along with two thousand sacrificial officers for us to mete out our revenge upon.

His offer was not accepted, but the peace has held, and his forces have begun a withdrawal from this front.

At the end of the day, there are thirty-three dead on the Craton and over two hundred seriously injured – ten of whom still cling to life by a thread.  This includes Dr. Arn Logus, who is in critical condition and under Dr. Y’s personal care.

Ambassador Decinus has already been discharged, and though he still has healing to do, the man gave me his sincere thanks.

Among the Hev, the death count is not known for certain.  Our best guess has over 380,000 of the P’G’Maig dead.  It is a drop in the bucket, but that so many were lost largely to the Craton is thought to have made the Overlord second-guess his rash decisions.

The T’H’Tul Hev we came to save have contacted us now as well.  As part of the cease-fire, the P’G’Maig have dropped their interference and we have been able to freely communicate with them.  Ambassador N’Keeea has begun talks to bring his people out of the system with the help of the Sapient Union.

None of us believe that the P’G’Maig will drop their claim to the system, and the peace is still tenuous, long-term.

But hopes are high that this all will make some difference in the end.

---

“Ambassador N’Keeea, are these terms acceptable to your people?”

N’Keeea sat next to Brooks in his office, while a number of other beings were present in projected form.  Siilon stood watching, largely quiet, along with Councilor Tallei of the Dessei.

N’Keeea rose to his feet, and gave a nod.  “I have spoken to the survivors of my people – and they are prepared to accept this offer.”

“Even Supreme General G’Kaackt?” Brooks asked.

N’Keeea turned to him.  “G’Kaackt is no longer Supreme General.  In the . . . excitement, it seems that a tragic accident befell him.  In his stead is Acting Supreme General K’Tekek.  He has given me full powers of negotiation.”  A small smile went briefly over N’Keeea’s face.  “It seems I am viewed quite positively by those who still live.”

“I am pleased that your people have agreed to evacuate,” Tallei said.  “The Dessei Republic are willing to send transport ships to aid your people, and assist you in relocating into uninhabited sectors under our control.”

“I must thank you, Councilor,” N’Keeea said, though Brooks could tell there was some displeasure in him.  He hid it well, but the Dessei had originally rejected N’Keeea’s plea for assistance.  Now, it seemed somewhat opportunistic.

“Do we know how the Maig feel about this?” Siilon asked, speaking up.  “They may try to launch some sort of attack or provocation to justify attacking the Tul once they are in the open.”

“Unlikely,” N’Keeea replied.  “Ks’Kull, endless curses upon his name, is facing significant internal strife at his failure to achieve his stated goals.  It is in part due to this, and the shameful fact that he was forced to ask for a cease-fire that have placated the honor of my people.  He is in no condition to attack.”

“Do you think there will be any other hold-outs who refuse to go?” Brooks asked.

“We predict that the vast majority of survivors will choose to leave.”

“And those that don’t?” Brooks persisted.

“They will fight to the very last Hev when the P’G’Maig resume their assault,” N’Keeea said.  His tone portrayed no emotion.

“It is as good an ending as any of us could hope for,” Siilon said.

“I suppose,” Brooks replied, his stomach still clenching slightly.  Out of the ten billion or so left, how many would stay and die out of an ancient sense of honor?

“The civilian government will transmit lists of survivors beginning tomorrow morning,” N’Keeea continued.  “Commodore Siilon, will your fleet be willing to stay for a time to be absolutely sure that the D’Y’Maig behave appropriately?”

It took Brooks a moment to realize what the new honorifics that N’Keeea has put onto the Maig meant.

D’ implied cowardice and Y’ failures.

He wondered how long the peace could really last.

The meeting ended, and N’Keeea wrung his hand.

“I put all my hopes in your hands, Captain Brooks,” the Hev told him.  “It seems that I trusted wisely.”

Brooks smiled, sincerely.  “I am glad for you, and for your people, Ambassador.  I hope nothing but success and prosperity for you all.”

“We shall yet see.  Perhaps one day we will be the ones to exterminate the D’Y’Maig, eh?”

N’Keeea laughed, and walked from the room, while Brooks felt his stomach flip-flopping.

After the Ambassador had left, he turned to look where Siilon had been.  “Are you still there?”

“Of course,” the Sepht said, her image reappearing.  “It seems the little Ambassador has regained his teeth, eh?  Do not worry, I shall keep an eye on him.  We will not be pushed into a true war, even if there are attempts.”

“I’m glad,” Brooks said.  “I’m afraid the Craton can’t take another beating like that so soon.”

“Will she take long to repair?  I’d rather like to see you humiliate Ks’Kull again, in all honesty,” Siilon replied with a laugh.  “You truly shamed him.”

“That was the idea,” Brooks said.  “His life was mine, and I let him live.  It was as strong a move as I could make.”

“Short of killing him,” Siilon said.

“Even if I could have without destroying the Craton – no.  Someone else would have vowed revenge and come after us.  Only after that would the power struggle begin in earnest.  By making him flee, I set him against all the potential usurpers.”

Siilon considered that thoughtfully.  “If N’Keeea’s rumors are true, then Ks’Kull may not have much time left to him.”

“We’ll see just how vicious he is.  If he falls, let’s hope whoever takes his place isn’t worse,” Brooks said.

He cleared his throat.  “Speaking of trouble, though – I have been worrying about just how much you’ve gotten into.  Don’t get me wrong – I am grateful for the rescue.  But you broke your government’s orders.”

Siilon grinned.  “Oh, no, I followed them to the letter.  It’s simply that I got new ones ordering me to go in.”

“And how did you manage that?” Brooks asked, agog.  He knew, for certain, that she had somehow pulled off the feat.

“It was not the hardest maneuver,” Siilon replied.  “I simply dropped some hints to Dessei contacts that the Craton was in dire straits – with the daughter of Solon Maara aboard.  When the Solon learned, she was very persuasive to her government . . . and when the Dessei sent help, I informed my government of that fact.”

“. . . And they rushed to match the Dessei’s solidarity,” Brooks surmised.

“Oh, yes.  You are very lucky that our governments are so adversarial, Ian.  Neither wishes to be made to look bad compared to the other.”

Brooks chuckled.  “Well played, Commodore.”

“There’s a reason I earned this badge,” she replied.

“And why you’ll go no higher,” he joked back.

She laughed.  “Oh, clear seas – no, I would never want that.  I might end up with more paperwork than I could delegate!”

---

< Ep 6 Part 53 | Ep 6 Part 55 >

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

---

“All missiles threatening the Craton destroyed!” an officer called out.

“Hev ships one minute until witnessing our light,” another told her.

Siilon considered briefly, pressing her hands together a moment and contemplating, before rising to her full height.

“Contact the Fesha ship,” she ordered.  “FTL, open channel.”

No one questioned her, despite the oddity of the order.  They had a decisive advantage at the moment – they could launch attacks on the Maig before they even knew that her force was here, cutting the time they had to react.

But she had a different idea in mind.

The channel was opened, and she caught the surprise of the Fesha Captain, who would not see the light of their ship for at least two hours.

“Sepht Captain, what an unexpected surprise.  May I inquire-“

“I am calling to inform you that the Mopu System is now an active theater of war,” she said, cutting the being off.  “I am ordering you, for your safety, to leave immediately.”

The Captain took several long moments to answer, clearly looking off to the side for information – probably his systems trying to figure out who she was.

Let them look and know her, she thought.  They’d shiver all the more when they learned.

“Ah, Commodore Siilon, we take your sincere concern to heart, yet we feel our safety is already assured with your gracious-“

“Not acceptable,” she said, and leaned over to speak to one of her officers.  “Have the Ring Ship send two of our tugs over to the Fesha.  I want them out of my warzone, even if they have to drag them out.  Send two cruisers with them.”

Alarm went over the Fesha’s face.  “You would not dare to drag our ship-“

“It is my discretion what I shall do,” she told him coldly.  “You will leave this warzone – one way or another.  You will do it alive and unharmed, whether you like it or not.”

And, most importantly, they would not get to stay and observe the fight from close range.

“We find this most ungracious and injurious and will be filing a grievance, Commodore!  We shall leave, only because of your barbarous threats to our dignity-“

“Siilon out,” she said, and cut the transmission.

A sensor officer looked up.  “Their transmission wavering at the end suggests they’re lighting up for a burn – likely away from us and out of system.”

“Make sure they actually do it.  Have the Hev seen us yet?”

“Not yet, Commodore – but they surely heard that.”

“Good,” she replied.

It meant they knew they’d just started a war.

“Contact the flagship of the Dessei.”

It was opened, and she looked at the Moth-Owl, who seemed solemn – though she thought they always appeared that way, showing only emotion with their crest of feathers.  For her kind, who rippled with color and writhing tentacles to portray endless moods and emotions, it always made them hard to read.

But she knew from the look of the one before her – Councilor Tallei – that he was unsure.  Despite being in command of his people’s fleet, he was a politician, not an admiral.

“With your permission, Councilor,” she said.

He gave her a sharp nod.  “You may, Commodore.  Glory to the Republic!”

“And may the currents be with us,” she replied.

Keeping the line open, she turned to her crew.

“Target lock every capital ship in their fleet,” she said.  “Fire all missiles – I demand a first strike that will leave them bereft of hope.  Artillery ships, prepare long-range smartshells, aim for maximum effect.”

“Aye!” her crew replied, calling as one.

The effect draw a smile to her face.

The massive artillery ships moved ahead from the fleet, their enormous coilguns charging.  When they fired, streaks of light emerged, disappearing out of sight even faster than the waves of missiles already headed out.

“The Maig have visual on us,” a sensor officer called.  “They are attempting to regroup stragglers of the Overlord’s fleet . . .  Forming a new battle line facing us.”

“How long until impacts of the first volleys?”

“Missiles – one more minute.  First volleys of coilgun shots should impact in moments.”

The Hev, far from taking evasive maneuvers, were moving into a tight defensive formation.  It was a rookie mistake, an artifact, she knew, of the damage the Craton had inflicted upon the Maig.  Without an experienced leader, under the stress they were experiencing, they were reverting to the kind of defensive attitude of their ancient ancestors.

It could happen to anyone, really, caught out of their depth.

And it meant they were lining up perfectly to be hit.

“Have the Ringship send a probe through.  I want to see it in real time,” she said.

Siilon had been called bloodthirsty in uncharitable circumstances, and though it was not true, there were times the reputation was useful.  Even now, she did not feel joy at the thought of slaughtering the P’G’Maig.

But she did need to know what havoc they inflicted.

The Ringship activated its massive zerodrive, sending through only a handful of drones that could report back in nearly real-time.  It was a massive waste of power in some senses, and even a ringship with its massive cooling fins and dozens of reactors and geometry optimized in every way to allow for such passages at will could only open so many portals before it had to take a break.

As the feed came back, though, she saw that it was worth it.

“Impacts!” the sensor operator called, before the image resolved.  She was working off the timing, and the math was correct.

The smart shells were bursting, showering the Hev formation with thousands of small pieces of hypervelocity shot.  Each small piece would do less damage, but also dump more of its energy into the enemy ships, and increase the chance of hitting something important.

One ship had a gout of plasma out of its side, and she surmised that a reactor had been hit.  Another had rippling explosions go across its flank as something was set off internally.  Others had very little visible reaction, save for lights flickering, going off, and a clear lack of command and control.

The thought of how many she’d just killed or maimed came to mind, though the impact was superficial as of yet.  She’d contemplate on it later, perhaps feel something, and then move on.

“Missiles incoming in one minute,” she was told.

The Hev formation had far less of a defense against them than even she expected.  The missiles were nearly unchecked as they smashed and blew apart vital infrastructure on the largest ships, even weaving around the smaller vessels that tried bravely to put themselves in the path to take the hits for their brethren.

“All missiles accounted for – 82.5% successful hit rate!”

There was more cheering across the bridge.

“P’G’Maig forces are routing!  Withdrawing in disorganization, Commodore!” the gunnery officer called.

“Shall we fire another salvo, complete their defeat?” her first mate asked.  “Perhaps a nuclear lance strike?”

She saw that the Hev had noticed the observation drones she’d sent in, and warnings of lock-ons by defensive lasers were detected-

The feeds cut out.

“No,” Siilon said finally to her first mate.  “Let them run.”

---

< Ep 6 Part 52 | Ep 6 Part 54 >

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

---

“Another missile wave hitting outer defense zones!” Urle shouted.

“Seven PDCs out of commission, two more out of ammunition!  And all but one laser are down,” Jaya called.  The sirens and noise and smoke made shouting necessary, and Brooks could scarcely see even his command officers through it.  His HUD was fighting to view anything.

“Roll the ship,” he ordered.  “Bring our best defenses to bear on the heaviest concentrations of missiles.  And get the ventilators back online, I want this smoke gone!”

“They’re too spread out,” Urle called.  “We’re going to have gaps in our defenses-“

“Do we have any defensive drones left?” he called.

“Only a few-“

“Get them to the weakened sectors!” Brooks snapped.  “Are we in coilgun range yet?”

“Hit chance is still extremely low at this range,” Cenz said, his voice still screening his own mood; which Brooks could not imagine was very positive at the moment.

“Fire anyway, see if we can take some missiles with it, and threaten one of their missile carriers, we might be able to slow down their rate of fire!”

“Reactor Seven shutting down,” Cutter said, his voice the only naturally calm one; Beetle-Slugs were nearly unflappable even in the face of death.  “Hits have caused fluctuations in-“

“It’s enough to know it’s down,” Brooks said.  “How does this affect our charging for a jump?”

“Significantly,” Cutter replied in a clipped tone.  “Running calculations.”

The situation was dire, and though the Craton was not going to be destroyed by even a few waves of missiles, they were quickly being rendered helpless.

“Tell me the drives are still working,” he said.

“Aye, sir.  Front nose cone is holding so far, but she’s got some big craters in her,” Urle said.

That was a small miracle.

But as some of the smoke cleared, and he saw the number of missiles incoming in this next wave – now only two minutes out – he realized that it was not nearly enough.

They would run out of ammunition, their defenses would get knocked out, and they’d be helpless.  The Hev would board them with hundreds of thousands of troops – millions, if they had to.  And they could shoot until they ran out of ammo, until their printers were eating the walls to make bullets, and still they’d lose.

All he could do was save what lives he could.

“Prepare to eject habitat section bunkers.  See if we can give them a bump away from us as fast as we can.”

Urle nodded.  “Aye sir.”

Doing that essentially meant blowing off sections of the hull and letting the safety bunkers be launched out with bursting charges.  They had only limited air and supplies and no engines.

And that assumed the Hev wouldn’t hunt them all down.

But it was the only thing he could do to potentially spare them bloody deaths.

He lowered his voice.  “Make sure Ambassador Kell, Decinus, Logus, and Apollonia are in one of the bunkers,” he said.

Urle hesitated.  “Sir, about that . . .”

“I know what the orders are,” Brooks said bluntly.  “But I believe it will be better if Kell escapes to live another day.”

“. . . Yes, sir,” Urle said.

Part of Brooks wanted to order Urle into a bunker as well.  The man was his closest friend, and his children had no one else.

The words hovered in his mouth, and he was about to speak, when Cenz’s voice cut through the other noise.

“Captain, we are detecting something rising from zerospace dead astern!”

His chest clenched.  Now the Hev were outflanking them as well?  It was flogging a dead horse at this point, but it would put the civilians in a worse position . . .

“On-screen,” he said.  “Perhaps we can discourage the Hev from-“

His words cut off as the ship appeared in a flash – it emerged so close that the Bower Radiation didn’t have time to decay.

It was not a Hev ship.  It was a Dessei Ring Ship.

Over four kilometers in diameter, it was a portable gateway to zerospace, an entry and exit point from that alternate dimension.  Enormous, nearly defenseless.

He felt his jaw drop as he realized what that meant.

It would not have come here alone.

“Captain, we are detecting dozens of other objects emerging!”

Other ships began to appear; cruisers, destroyers, droneships, even battleships and artillery ships.

It was not all Dessei; emerging among them, in their own formation, he saw Commodore Siilon in her flagship – Dusk Falls.

He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“We’re receiving a message,” Eboh called.

The voice that came through was Siilon, along with an image of her on her bridge.

“Craton, I recommend you begin withdrawing to the safety of the fleet.  We will cover you.”

“Do it,” Brooks ordered.  “And Commodore, if I may say – I’m glad to see you.”

Siilon flashed him one of her jagged smiles, then the transmission ended.

“Artillery ships are charging their coilguns,” Cenz said.  “They are firing – oh my.”

The shots from the ships spread like shotgun blasts towards the Craton, though he felt not even a moment of alarm.  Every shot was wide, aimed for the missiles that were weaving through the gaps in the Craton’s defenses.  Bracketing them perfectly.

Dozens of threats disappeared off the board, and already he saw other shots coming.

He felt the clutching pains in his chest relax, and felt suddenly weary to the bone.  Moving back to his seat, he dropped into it.

“Focus everything into defense, do whatever we can.  Get all Response teams to vital areas, and work to get Reactor Seven restored.”

Cheers went up among the crew, and he shared in their elation.

But he could not let his guard down just yet.

Though they had reinforcements, the P’G’Maig numbers were still stacked against them.

---

< Ep 6 Part 51 | Ep 6 Part 53 >