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The computer pinged to Alexander that it had finished processing the data.

He’d been taking the time to finish repairing the strand, since he’d have to do it eventually anyway, and was running new sims on its viability when the notification came.

Pausing the sims, he looked over the data results.

The system had charted when all of the major errors had cropped up in the DNA over the past few years, and he wanted to collate that data to see if there was some rhyme or reason.

There was, he could see immediately in the visualization, a pattern.

The major abnormalities began about a year ago.  Before that the incidents were far fewer and less severe.

There was one incident, a gap, then they started appearing regularly.  But there was no pattern beyond that as far as he could tell.

He ran some tests against major events the ship had gone through, but these were far more numerous than such events.

The first did correspond with the Leviathan they’d encountered a little over a year ago.  That made sense, but any pattern he might extrapolate from that fell apart quickly.  They weren’t having anything like this much contact with Leviathans!

So it must not be that specifically.  It might have triggered something else.  Perhaps some minor damage in the ship?  A weakness in radiation protections?  Whatever it was, the levels were so minimal as to be undetectable to sensors, because of course they scanned for radiation leaks.

He was starting to get frustrated, though.  This was not his speciality, but it was interfering with his work.  Why the hell couldn’t it just be something obvious?

Grumbling, he realized that his frustration stemmed, largely, from tiredness.

Looking at the time, he realized how much he’d let slip away.  Shit.

He’d put himself into Busy mode, and saw that Pirra had sent him messages, picking a low-enough importance that it hadn’t interrupted them.

A thoughtful thing . . .  which also meant he hadn’t gotten snapped out of his own head in time to spend the evening with her.

Well, he had no one to blame but himself, he thought ruefully, starting to pack up.

The DNA was fixed, it would still be here in the morning.

Leaving his office, he hurried back to the apartment.

Letting himself in as quietly as he could, he saw that everything was dark.  Pirra was already in bed.

On the one hand, he was glad she hadn’t stayed up for him, she had to be tired after her day of work.  But he also regretted that he had missed her.

Peeling back the sheets, he tried to slip into bed without waking her, but of course failed.

Her eyes opened, the sudden white of them in the darkness almost startling, if he hadn’t been so used to it.

“Sorry,” he said softly.  “I didn’t mean to work so late.”

Her eyes slipped half-closed in sleepiness.  Unlike human eyes they did not rotate much in the skull, and the nictitating membrane that protected them from light and such slid half over them.

“It’s fine,” she sang sleepily.  “Sometimes I work late, too.  On exploding spaceships.”  She smiled slightly.

“This wasn’t that dramatic,” he admitted.

“But important, I’m sure,” she replied, sounding even more distant with sleep now.

He leaned in, planting a kiss on her head.  She lifted her head and pressed against his cheek, her way of returning the affection.

“Good night,” he said softly, settling in.  “Tomorrow we’ll do something fun.”

She mumbled something that was incoherent.

Alexander was exhausted, but the thoughts of his work continued to crowd his mind.  He tried meditation, but he’d never been good at it.

He lay awake for a long time.

*******

The command center of the Craton was bustling with activity.

In the Captain’s chair, Urle sat, interfacing with the ship’s computer via a finger contact point.

In a few minutes time, the testing of their expanded magnetosphere would be complete, and they would begin their movement towards the relic temple.

Urle was not nervous about the technology.  The manipulation of magnetic fields, even frighteningly powerful ones like what they were about to create, was an ancient technology, well understood.  Even swelling the protective field to fully encompass the Raven’s Ghost was not an issue.

They always had an external field to protect against stray cosmic rays and other natural sources of radiation, so the equipment was there.  The same technology was used to contain the heat and radiation of a solar furnace – seven of them – in their reactors.  So projecting a larger and more powerful field outwards to protect against the radiation of the Van Allen belt around the temple was child’s play.

As an added protection, they would be using their magnetosphere to contain a cloud of plasma, which would serve as an extra barrier against high-energy electrons as they whipped around the ship.

But they wouldn’t have a lot of space, and no Captain liked having another vessel as close as the Raven’s Ghost would have to be.  They couldn’t keep tens of kilometers of distance between them, as was the usual minimum for two free-flying craft.  Instead the Raven’s Ghost would have an area of just a few square kilometers around the Craton.  To leave that area would mean lethal doses of radiation in only a fraction of a second.

If it were a Union ship so close to them, he wouldn’t be concerned.  But this was a heavily-modified civilian craft, whose maintenance history and crew he did not know.  What decisions – particularly foolish ones – they might make if things got dicey was an unknown.

Rachel Zhu finished speaking to one of her officers, and turned to him.  “Captain, we have finalized our course with the Raven’s Ghost.”

“Good.  Engineering?”

Cutter clacked his jaws and nodded.  “Are prepared to enlarge magnetosphere at your command.”

Everything was ready.  He steeled himself.  “Enlarge the magnetosphere, begin building up the plasmasphere.  Prepare to move as soon as they are stabilized and the Raven’s Ghost is in position.”

“Field engaged,” Cutter said.  “Stabilized.  Flooding area with plasma.  Stabilized.  Both fields ready, Acting-Captain.  We are operating just over peak expected efficiency.”

“My commendations to you and your engineers,” Urle said.  He confirmed all of the data himself in a fraction of a second, as well as the Raven’s Ghost being steady in her position off their port beam.  “Angle us in towards the station.”

The ship began a long yawing turn.  Normally they’d only rotate and thrust one way, but it was easier for the Raven’s Ghost this way.  It kept position.

“We have entered the radiation belt,” Cenz called.  “As has the Raven’s Ghost.”

“Radiation levels on the ship?”

“They are remaining constant, Acting-Captain.”

“Good.  Keep our heading and bring us in.”

Their curving course would let them reach the temple in two hours.  Looking at the drones they’d put outside the field, he measured the radiation levels.

It made no sense for there to be a massive magnetic field out here, or this much radiation.  Such a thing needed a source, and it did not even seem to be centered on the temple.

Just another bizarre aspect to all this.

The temple grew in size on the scopes as they approached.

“Switching to actual size,” Cenz called.  The view changed, the distance increasing – but it was still vast.

25,000 kilometers in width, the temple was beyond massive; twice the width of the Earth.  There were plenty of planets bigger than the Earth, but structures?  No.  Not solid things like this.  It was insane, engineering on a scale that dwarfed them.

“Approaching the inner safe zone,” Cenz called.  Urle glanced at his chrono and saw that two hours had nearly passed.

“Bring us to a stop just outside it,” Urle said.

The edge of their field would come near the safe zone; they could bring them together to let landing craft through in safety, but keep the Craton outside.  The idea of bringing the Craton into the safe zone had been brought up, but Urle had decided against it.  It was not that taxing to maintain the magnetosphere, and they did not know anything about the protected area around the temple.

Best to stay where space behaved in a predictable way.

“Raven’s Ghost,” he messaged.  “We are in position.  The show is yours.”

“We copy you, Craton,” Nadian replied.  “We’ll be setting out in just a few minutes.”

< Ep 13 part 14 | Ep 13 part 16 >

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

“You certainly bring an interesting crew,” Nadian told Brooks.  “Here I thought I was the one with the oddballs.”

The shuttle had returned to the Craton, taking with it most of Brooks’s people.  Only the five-man technical crew, he, and Kell remained on board the Raven’s Ghost.

They would be leaving in the morning for the temple, and Nadian had invited him to his cabin to talk.

Brooks had assumed it would be regarding the mission, but for Nadian it seemed to be almost a social call.  The man was sitting strapped into a chair that appeared, from Brooks’s angle, to be attached to the wall.

The cabin was very large by space standards, doubling as the man’s office.  Aside from a neat desk, which Brooks suspected was for recording livestreams, the room was messy.

There were floor-to-ceiling cubbies with books, tablets, various other objects stuck in clear boxes that were taped or otherwise glued down.  Hand-written notes adorned many, detailing their origin and about their speculated use or role in their home societies.

Nade brought out two glass spheres of alcohol from a box on the wall.  He smiled and offered one; Brooks nodded, and caught it as the man threw it.

“I could say the same to you,” Brooks replied.  “Your people all seem interesting.”

Nadian saw the deflection.  “I asked first, Captain,” he said with a bright grin.  “I frankly am surprised you agreed to my cuts.”

Brooks shrugged.  “This isn’t just investigating a lost temple.  It’s a place of potential relic technology.  We’re fooling with weapons we don’t even understand and often times we pay the price.”  He shook his head.  “If I have an excuse to expose fewer people to those dangers, I’m fine with it.”

“So you’re not worried about the Ambassador?” Nadian asked him.

“He is the last one I would be concerned with.”

Nadian took the words seriously.  “I keep hearing a lot about Shoggoths.  About what they can do – what they’re like.”

Brooks said nothing.  He would share nothing more here.

Nadian took the hint after a few moments.

“I’ve also heard the stories about Y and Ehni,” he continued.  “Met a few, but never had much chance to talk to them.  Are they as smart as everyone says they are?”

The idea that Nadian had met other Ehni surprised Brooks, and he doubted it was even true.  But Y was the most obviously dangerous part of his team.  Many people feared artificial super intelligences when they felt their interests did not align.

“Probably quite a bit more intelligent and capable than we think,” Brooks told him.  “But I don’t feel threatened by them.  I think they just view us as a transitory phenomena, and one worthy of studying.”

Nadian looked genuinely interested in the answer, but also skeptical, excepting the idea of humanity as a transitory phenomena.  “I’ve always suspected they thought that way,” he replied.  “I admit, I’m not used to being the object of study.”

It wasn’t quite accurate, Brooks knew.  There had been multiple biographies about him.  But then, who knew how much of them was even true?

“And your CR?” Nadian asked.  “I’ve heard she’s from New Vitriol.  I’ve seen the place – it was pretty bad, and that was years ago.”

“The details of Apollonia’s life are hers alone,” Brooks said.

Nadian looked surprised and almost insulted.  “I didn’t mean anything offensive.”

“Boundaries just need to be made clear,” Brooks replied.  “You know, though – she was looking forward to meeting you.  I believe she is – was – a fan.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I drove her away,” Nadian said.  “I just like my private thoughts remaining private.”

“We have no evidence that CRs can actually read minds,” Brooks replied.

“When you’ve met as many as I have,” Nadian replied, “You’ll know they can.  At least some.  And you can’t always tell who.  I had one lady on . . . shit, I forget where it was.  Anyway, she came on and was a bit too obvious about it.”

“Oh?” Brooks replied.

“Read what was on my mind a bit too well, if you know what I mean,” Nadian said, laughing.  He sipped his drink.  “I actually wondered if Ms. Nor would try to do the same.  You know, an ingratiating tactic.”

Brooks riled.  “She’s barely more than a child.”

“Don’t get your suit in a knot.  I didn’t say I was interested.  But fans can do that as well as people with an agenda.  Hell,” he shrugged.  “There’s no difference.  Everyone has some kind of agenda.”

“Spoken like a true cynic,” Brooks replied.

Nadian’s smile was mocking.  “Yeah, well, anyone takes a good long look at the universe and they’ll become a cynic real quick.”

“The problem with cynics,” Brooks said.  “Is that they tend to be useless in the ways that count.”

“I’m useful enough.  So either you’re wrong or I’m just a liar.  When you get to 300 and aren’t a cynic, it only shows that you’re an idiot.”

“I know a lot of people as old or older who feel differently,” Brooks replied.

Nadian shrugged.  “True believers in the Union.”  He sipped his drink and then pointed.  “You know when I really lost faith with the Union?”

“I didn’t know you ever had any,” Brooks admitted.

Nadian smiled.  “I used to at least respect you guys.  I don’t believe in your all-encompassing cooperation, it’s stifling.  But after Terris, you also became cowards.  You pulled back from the edges and huddled like a turtle in its shell.”

He sipped his drink again, his eyes glazing slightly and looking out at the distance.  “A betrayal.”

Brooks wondered what Nadian was seeing.

He was almost seeing red.

He had been there, at Terris, in Battlefleet C.  When millions of the fleet had gone to face an unknown behemoth that was threatening to destroy an entire world.

Their only hope had been to buy time for the civilians with their own.

And after it had gone even worse than their worst fears, with no ability to harm the enemy, and facing unimaginable forms of death, they had pulled out.

He had been the one to give that order, at least to Battlefleet C.  The chaos that had engulfed the fleet as a third of its ships, including the command vessels, had been lost, had been almost total.  People fighting, advancing, maneuvering, their utter helplessness breaking all cohesion and unity.

When the Captain of his ship, the Kilimanjaro, died, in the most horrific way, he, as Executive Officer had taken command.  Told the rest of their formation that they had to pull back now.

He didn’t feel pride in it.  They were having no effect on the enemy, not even to slightly delay it.  They would all have died if they had stayed.

And even after Terris, in those terrifying, confusing days, they did not know if this was an attack by an organized enemy.  Would other Leviathans start appearing in other occupied systems?

Yet, despite their experiences, losses, and terrifying ignorance, Brooks knew that every officer on his ship would have attacked a Leviathan again if they thought it would have helped.

He did not appreciate them being called cowards.

He also did not give in to his anger.

“You live in the moment, he said to Nadian.  “It’s not a fault, but you have to be able to think of tomorrow, too.  Our actions after Terris will have ramifications for centuries.  Can anyone be said to be ready to make such decisions quickly?”

Nadian studied him.  He was not a fool; he could see in Brooks the restrained anger, hidden behind patience.

“No offense intended,” he said with a defensive nod.  “But you don’t personally agree with it taking this long, do you?”

“No,” Brooks replied bluntly.  “I would have had us back out there by now.  But I don’t have all the information and command of the Union is not in my hands.  I have my voice, the same as everyone else.”

Nadian smiled.  “You know, Brooks, I thought this conversation would have had a lot more yelling.”  He sipped his drink.  “For a jackbooted thug, you’re not so bad.”

Brooks found that he was not as amused, though he kept his face neutral.  “You don’t seem to have a problem with jackbooted thugs, seeing as who some of your backers have been in the past.”

Nadian could not always afford to fully fund himself, and had gotten backers on some of his grander ventures – usually Gohhian elite and even some powers in the Glorian Empire.

Nadian just shrugged.  “Sometimes we have strange bedfellows.  I don’t traffic with the worst of them.  If they call themselves a Dreadnought I won’t go near them, they’re even worse than you Union-types.  At the end of the day, though, you’re the same; pushing your own ideal of perfection onto humanity.”

Brooks shrugged. “We don’t stop people from leaving.  We even help them with grants.  Our goals are humanistic at heart, and we’re post-scarcity.”

“Yeah, well, saying you’re humanistic at heart is like saying you’re the most humble.  I don’t buy it and you don’t buy it.  No, you don’t lock people in cages like barbarians.  You just trap them with utopia so they never even think to leave.”

Brooks took a sip of his own drink.  “Who is bankrolling this expedition of yours?  It’s not just us helping you, though we’re the only ones actually out here in the field with you, giving you resources.”

Nadian laughed.  “And staking a claim.”

Brooks’s face was neutral. “Everyone wants to know more about relic technology.”

Nade let out one last laugh and raised his drink.  “On that, at least, we can agree.”

“So, it’s your turn,” Brooks said.  “Your crew – tell me about them.”

“Ah, they pale in comparison to yours, really.  I mean, you even have your own CR and she’s a step up from mine.”

“Quid pro quo,” Brooks replied.

“All right.”  Nadian raised one hand to count on.  “First is Tobias Fromm.  Met him about six years ago on Pilecton.  Shady place, if you don’t know anything about it.”

“I know it,” Brooks replied.

“Fromm is just as shady.  He’s tricked and defrauded a lot of people with his little ‘gifts’.  I helped get him out after the inevitable results of his nonsense, and so he owes me.  But before you ask, no, I don’t trust him.”

He counted a second finger.  “Fergus is a competitor, a very good one.  We’ve never seen eye-to-eye, but there’s no better mythologist than him, and right now our interests align.”  He stopped and grinned.  “And again, no, I don’t trust him.”

He lifted a third finger.  “And then there’s Kat.  She’s an old hand.  Now her I do trust.  We’ve been through the wringer together.”

Brooks crossed his arms.  “The way you tell it, everyone has a neat little backstory to complement yours.  Let me guess, you and Katherine have a romantic history, too?”

Nadian laughed, just two loud hahs that seemed very genuinely amused.  “You know what, Brooks?  Not many people have the balls to call me out on my bullshit anymore.”

< Ep 13 part 13 | Ep 13 part 15 >

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

Ham Sulp had not expected his door to be darkened again so soon, but Tred had scarcely left when another visitor arrived.

He saw Cathal Sair approaching, saw him speak to Tred briefly, and how the latter was disturbed by the man’s mere presence.

Sulp rubbed his chin as he watched.  The priest acted convincingly calm and pleasant every time he spoke to anyone.  But he did not buy it.

‘Religious’ was almost an insult among his home fleet.  They had had little use for it when they left Earth centuries ago, and their time out among the stars had made them even more suspicious of it.

Superstition?  Sure.  That was pretty normal.  Spirituality?  That was pushing it.  But priests and organization and hierarchy?

They’d shoved those things out an airlock a long time ago.

Sulp opened the door just as Sair had been about to knock.

The surprise on his face turned to a smile; perhaps he thought he was welcome.  Sulp just didn’t like people knocking.

“Hello, Commander,” Sair said, offering a polite bow.

Sulp turned in his chair, offering nothing but a small nod in return.  “Can I help you?”

“I am here to request your assistance,” Sair said.  He opened his mouth to say more, but Sulp spoke first.

“Sounds like an administration issue.  You’ll need to to talk to Zeela Cann or one of her assistants if the automated system can’t help you.”

He turned his chair around, pointedly.

Sair was quiet for a few moments, then spoke again.  “I know I am being somewhat out of order here.  But the Administration office is closed, due to the latest mission and what it portends.  I have already expended Ex to reserve a space for a ceremony, but there are certain supplies which I require.  They are very basic things, but ones I must ask for.”

Sulp turned back around, eyeing the man.  He didn’t say anything.

Sair offered a slight bow.  “I apologize for the inconvenience.  I just hoped that perhaps you could help me, as a friendly gift for the many who will be attending.”

Sulp heavily considered rejecting the man’s request, for a multitude of reasons, including the fact that he simply did not like him.

But he did not get to hoard his resources, no matter how much he might want to.  He did have to consider things like the appropriateness of special requests, exactly like this one.

“Show me the list,” he grumbled.

Sair sent it to him, and Sulp glanced over it.  If there had been anything annoying or rare on it . . . but there wasn’t.  Chairs, tables, ropes, dining equipment.  It was very basic things that anyone might request for an event with a group of people.

He opened a channel.  “Phadom, sending down a special request.  Get it filled, would you?”

Phadom answered.  “We’re busy with the last request!  Drones don’t supervise themselves, pak!”

“Pak yourself,” Sulp replied.  “Finish that one then get on this.  Not a rush, just get it done.”

Phadom let the air hang for a few long moments.  A sure sign he was upset.

“What’s the matter?” Sulp asked, wondering how he’d become the ship’s counselor.

“Everything!” Phadom replied.  “Creepy temple, creepy people, creepy air.  Feel it in my spikes, I do!”

“Yeah, no one likes this shit, Phadom.  But you just have to get some tables and chairs together.”

“Pak!” Phadom replied, cutting the call.

Which meant he would do it, if he wouldn’t he would have outright refused.

Sulp looked back to Sair.  “Your stuff should be together in about an hour.  I’ll have it sent to your event venue.”

“You have my gratitude,” Sair said, bowing again.

He didn’t leave, though, which irked Sulp.

“Was there something else?” he asked the priest.

“I was just thinking, Commander, that our ceremony is very peaceful, and – if I may say so – healing to the soul.  I know you are a veteran of the Terris event.  On this anniversary period, would you like to join us?  We are a loving community, and there is no requirement to believe, but we do understand the pain you are-“

“No,” Sulp said, the word coming out harsher than he had even intended.  And he had intended it pretty sharply.

Sair looked like he did not expect that answer, but was not upset.

Sulp gestured for the door.  “I have work to do.”

Sair nodded and bowed again.  “Thank you for your assistance.”

< Ep 13 part 12 | Ep 13 part 14 >

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“I hope that you will not be so busy you can’t join in the ritual tomorrow,” Cathal said to Alexander.

“Of course I can be there, Father.  I’ll make time,” Alexander told him.

They had gone to visit several other of the Faithful since they’d started the walk.  Alexander had waited outside while Father Sair had gone to speak to them for a few moments.  Everyone they’d seen had said they’d be present.

Alexander found himself feeling incredibly honored.  This was a form of ritual, the Invitation Walk, and for him to be the Second was a great thing.  He took it seriously, adopting the manner and stance appropriate to the position, that he’d read about in the fourth-level teachings.

It was as far as he’d gotten.  For laymen, there were twenty levels, so he had a long way to go.  But the Father had told him he had advanced quickly.

“And after you reach twenty, we can discuss if you wish to go further – even becoming a priest yourself.”

Those words still rung in his ears as they continued their walk.

“I’m surprised you did not ask Apollonia,” Alex admitted.  “I thought that you two were close friends, Father.”

For a moment he feared he had overstepped his bounds, but Father Sair looked as calm as ever, smiling slightly as he often did.

“Apollonia Nor is a good person, and I believe that one day she will be a great member of our faith and do great services in the name of the Holy Void.  But right now she has not fully found herself.  Do not get me wrong, I believe that she is struggling and working hard to do just that.  She has made great strides in moving closer to the person she wants to be.”

Cathal reached up to put a hand on his shoulder.  Alexander suddenly felt acutely aware that he was taller than the priest; a detail he’d never noticed before.

“You have found your path, Alexander.”

Alexander smiled, moved by the words.

When he thought he had lost Iago, his closest friend, he had been destroyed.  Nothing he could do or say to Iago could solve the problems in his mind.

But then he’d been returned; recovered, even made more whole.  And Iago said so much of it was due to this man, this priest.  Even the return of Cassandra, his wife long thought dead.

That had been enough for Alexander to see that this man was the real thing.  One who could bring meaning to the disorder of his life . . . a man who cared.

His HUD interrupted him with an alert.

“Father,” he said reluctantly.  “My break is nearly over.  I need to get back to my work.”

Part of him wanted to brush it off, but he hesitated to do that.  It was important, even Father Sair had agreed earlier.  And if he just pushed it back he would have less time with Pirra at home.

Father Sair seemed fine, though.  “I quite understand.  You’ve given your time up for me, and I am grateful.  Go on back to your good work.”

“Thank you, Father.”  Alexander gave a little bow, and turned to head back towards his office.

He heard Sair get into the elevator as he walked away, and he called out his destination for the Resources main office.

Off to see Ham Sulp?  Alexander hoped the man wouldn’t be too rude to the Father.

The door to Sulp’s office opened.  For a moment, no one came through, and Sulp was just about to call out to them.

Then Boniface Tred shuffled slowly in.

His gaze was directed at the floor, his face matching it.

Moping like a child, Sulp thought.

This was perhaps his most detested of human behaviors, in himself or in others.  Why the hell couldn’t people just feel their sorrow, talk it out while drunk, and then move on?

He was no better, he knew.  But it didn’t irk him less to see Tred doing it.

“What do you need?” he growled.

Tred’s head and eyes rose fractionally, startled.

Damn, he must have sounded too gruff.  The poor man was like a puppy, sensitive to everything.

Sulp took a deep breath to calm himself.  He was an officer, and even if Tred was not in his division, he should do what he could for him.

“I have a request for auxiliary parts for a spacewalk mission tomorrow,” Tred said.  His voice was hollow.

Damn my eyes, Sulp thought.  That could have just been sent into the system.  Tred had walked it down here just . . . why?  The man was terrified of him.  It was obvious that Tred thought he hated him.

Sulp did not, but both his personality and practical nature tended him towards being very blunt and in a hurry, which Tred was a little too sensitive for.

But Tred had come down anyway.

Bless his tiny little heart, Sulp thought.  He’s trying.

“All right,” Sulp said.  “Lemme see it.”

Tred shuffled over, transferring the request ticket with a swipe of his hand.  Sulp looked at it, saw that it was in order.  Tred’s requests were over-thorough, true, but they were always proper.

He sent it off for the drones to fill.  “I’ll have that in a minute.  Want to wait?”  He gestured towards a chair.

Tred looked mildly surprised at the offer, but moved to sit.

Zeus, who had been curled in the corner sleeping, raised his head.  As soon as Tred sat down, the spacehound rose and came over, putting his chin on the man’s leg.

“Try petting him.  It’ll help,” Sulp said.

Tred was hesitant, but did put his hand on Zeus’s head and started to stroke lightly.

“Want a drink?” Sulp asked, pouring two cups.

“I don’t drink,” Tred replied.

“It’s green tea.”

“Made with water?”

“Well, yes,” Sulp said.

“Fish go to the bathroom in water,” Tred said miserably.

“. . . the aquaponics water is very thoroughly cleaned before it can end up in the drinking supply,” Sulp replied, trying to keep annoyance out of his voice.

“It’s the point,” Tred said.

“So what do you drink?”

“I keep my own water tanks in my room,” Tred said.  “And I have my own filters.”

Oh Dark, this man was impossible, Sulp thought.  “Fine.  Have some of this.”  He pulled from a cubby a dusty bottle of cognac.  Taking two glasses out of a plastic pouch, he poured a shot for each of them.

Tred took the glass but didn’t drink.

“It’s not going to kill you to have a drink,” Sulp said.

“Why are you being nice?” Tred asked him, looking down into his glass.  He swirled it a little.

Sulp found himself surprised again, as he had been starting to think he was leaving the ‘nice’ stage.  He felt ready to slap some sense into the man, though he would not give in to that urge.

“I see an officer having a hard time, I’m trying to help,” Sulp replied.  “It’s not my strong suit, Boniface.”

Tred recoiled at his first name.  “Just Tred, if you please.”

“All right, just Tred.  What’s bothering you?”

“I . . . it’s not worth talking about.”

“Clearly,” Sulp said, his patience straining, “it is.  There’s no realm of human behavior that isn’t important, even if it was unusual.  We’re all just a buncha fucking weirdos floating around in space.  Trust me, I’ve known every type in the Dark.”

Tred swirled his drink again, and finally took a sip.  He cringed away, looking disgusted, but then threw it back and almost gagged.  He forced down the drink.

“I thought I felt . . . emotions for someone.  But now they’re leaving.  I feel . . . unrequited.”

An incredibly clinical way of putting it, Sulp thought.  But it was probably the only way Tred could think about it right now.

“Ah, yeah, the Star Angel?  She’s a sweet thing.”

Tred’s eyes flashed.  “Don’t talk about her like that!  And . . . and you know about me and . . . and her?”

“It was kind of obvious, Tred,” Sulp said.  “And I meant nothing bad.  She is sweet.  Yes, I’ve talked to her, and no, I’m not sweet on her.  Plasma girls aren’t my type.”

He thought his stab at humor might help, but it only rolled off Tred like water off a duck.

“Tred, everyone has a hard time in this sort of situation.  But you’re trying to keep going, and that’s good.  It’s what you need to do.  It’s okay to feel sad, even terrible.  Just remember that if it happens once, it can happen again.”

“But it won’t be Jophiel,” Tred said.

“No, it won’t,” Sulp agreed.  “And you can’t hope the next person will be the same as the last.  Everyone has their own kind of grace and wonder in them.  So whoever next you find will be great in their own way.”

Tred looked up at him, his eyes narrowed.  Not in anger, it seemed, but . . . something.  He said nothing, though.

“Thanks for the drink,” Tred said, putting the glass down.

“Tred, have you ever gotten professional help for your anxiety and issues?” Sulp asked.  It was not polite to ask, but someone had to ask it.

It should have been Y, he thought.

“Yes,” Tred replied, a little snappishly.  “They tell me I’m borderline.  I can function, and it’s my choice whether I get brain corrections or not.”

“And you chose not to?” Sulp asked.  The man seemed miserable.

“I chose not to,” Tred replied.  When he stood up, he stood a little straighter, Sulp thought.

Well, this was a tact.  Sulp found himself . . . glad to see this spark of anger in Tred.

He raised his hand, saluting the man casually.  “Then godspeed to ye, Engineer.  It’s your fight.”

Tred blinked at him in surprise.  He did not seem able to come up with any words to that, and so just returned the salute, then turned and headed out the door.

< Ep 13 part 11 | Ep 13 part 13 >

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

“Raven’s Ghost, this is the Craton, do you read?”

“We hear you loud and clear, Craton,” the reply came.  Even with just a voice, it was clearly Nadian himself.  “Welcome to the middle of nowhere, home to the universe’s largest gazebo.”

A bridge officer snorted out a laugh, and Brooks was glad to let the humor lighten the mood.

“Glad to hear it, Raven’s Ghost.  We are prepared to receive you and your party at your convenience.”

There was a slight pause, and Brooks took a moment to look at an enlarged image of the Raven’s Ghost.

The ship was a pleasure yacht originally, built for the richest of the rich.  It was a very rare thing; a small ship capable of making its own zerospace jumps.

Such power generation was not something that it was capable of, but the ship had massive capacitors onboard.  With those, it had enough charge to carry itself to a location and back.

Nadian’s companies had scraped and borrowed quite a lot of credits to buy it, and it showed in how it had been creatively modified after purchase.

“That’s not even aftermarket,” he heard Ham Sulp saying to Cutter.  “That’s just some homebrew antenna.  Yeah, I know it’s jank as hell, but they are getting our signal.”

“Ah, Craton, there’s a small problem with that,” Nadian came back.  “In our deal with the Union, the Raven’s Ghost is to be the base of operations for this mission.  If you want to be involved in our mission, you need to come over here.”

Brooks felt a slight confusion, and glanced at the details of his assignment again, muting the channel.

It was in there – buried and easy to miss among other, more important clauses involving first publication and data rights.

“Oh, for . . .”  Brooks turned the channel back on.  “Our mistake, Raven’s Ghost.  My party and I will be launching shortly.”

The Raven’s Ghost was not a large vessel, and so their shuttle had to be correspondingly small.

But certain introductions had to be made to ensure an effective cooperation, and he needed to bring along those he intended to bring with him into the temple, All of which meant that besides himself, crowded in the shuttle were Apollonia, Urle, Kell, Cenz, Eboh, and Zhu.  Y was present, but his body was currently stowed and he simply existed in the shuttle’s computer system.

They also had a Response escort of Pirra, Kiseleva, Kessissiin, and Guoming, along with a technical support team of five.

It was a crowded shuttle.

If Farland had agreed to come to the Craton, it would have been far easier.

Looking back on it, though, letting the operation be run from his end had been a reasonably easy concession to make.  Farland had every reason to cooperate with them, and no reason to do anything foolish.  It was a positive show of goodwill as well, to let him take the lead.

No matter how crowded it meant the shuttle had to be.

Kell seemed to be in a poor mood, as well.  He had not made eye contact with any of them, his gaze distant and set in serious, almost angry lines.  He had spoken very little, and even ignored some lesser questions and comments.

The trip felt far longer than its mere forty minutes, and once they docked, Brooks still found himself having to stoop in the airlock as they waited for a good seal.

It was worse for the tallest among them, Pirra and Urle.

He glanced back over them all.  “Let’s all try to put on a pleasant face,” he told them.

Some slight smiles came back as the airlock light turned green.

It opened, and Brooks stepped inside.

Beyond the airlock stood Nadian Farland and his team.  Farland had a famed look that he’d clearly cultivated; like all space-faring people, he wore a full-body outfit that could serve as a spacesuit in the event of an unexpected decompression, but over that he had a webbed harness where normally his gear hung, the baggy pants that were a cultural norm on his homeworld, and the half-cloak that covered the one arm that the stories told was largely mechanical, even if it looked natural.

“Captain Brooks,” he said with a nod.  His eyes darted over the others behind him.  “And company.  Welcome aboard the Raven’s Ghost.  I hope most of you don’t get too comfortable.”

“Thank you for that warm welcome,” Brooks replied neutrally, stepping aboard.  Nadian and his people stepped back, giving room for the rest of Brooks’s party to board.

“Ach, why so bloody many?” one man asked.  He was a thicker man with a pronounced moustache that blended into muttonchops.  Brooks vaguely recognized him, and his system supplied a name, though he could not place it – Fergus Mac Domhnall.

“You’ll need to be working with the Craton,” Brooks said.  “I’ve brought several of my staff officers aboard to meet their equivalents and work out the best way to cooperate.”

“More like take over,” a tall woman said.  Brooks’s system could not ID her.  “Captain, just send them back.”

All eyes went to Nadian, and Brooks felt a flicker of annoyance at this petty power play.

But Nadian seemed to think the same thing.  “Most of them will be leaving after introductions,” he said.

Brooks nodded, and to his surprise, Nadian stuck out his hand.

“After our rocky start on Gohhi, I wanted to make a peace offering to you, Captain.  What you did on Ko was admirable.”

Brooks found himself so surprised that he hesitated before taking the hand and shaking it.  “Thank you,” he said.

“He has a history with Nadian Farland?” Apollonia whispered to Y.

“It appears so,” Y replied.  “I am unaware of the details.”

“This is Rachel Zhu, Flight Commander.  Shomari Eboh, Communications.  And Cenz, head of Science.  They’ll be the main coordinating team for the mission.  Next is my team I’d like to take with me into the temple; my Executive Commander Zachariah Urle, Dr. Y, Specialist Apollonia Nor, and Ambassador Kell.”

Apple found herself surprised to be referenced so seriously, but she was their resident “specialist” Cerebral Reader, as the Union called people with her abilities.

“That’s your team, huh?” Nadian said.  “And the rest?”

“Lt. Commander Pirra and a part of Response Team One as escorts, and our technical support team to make sure our equipment works with yours,” Brooks explained.

Nadian’s eyes went over them all.  “The techs can stay,” he said.

Brooks arched an eyebrow.  “And the rest you want off?  Our aid is contingent on us having a presence in the temple, Mr. Farland.”

“You’re fine,” Nadian said, his eyes going over the group Brooks had named as his party.  “I just want your espatiers staying on the shuttle, and your ‘liaison officers’ off as soon as their job is done.  As for your party – sorry, I’m not bringing your AI, cyborg, or pet CR on my expedition.  You and the Ambassador can come.”

“Pet CR?” Apollonia blurted out.  “Don’t be a douche.”

Someone on Farland’s team laughed.  The man himself actually smiled, a disarmingly handsome look that quickly turned more harsh.  “Either way, you’re not coming on my mission, sweetheart.”

Apollonia bristled, but then felt . . . something.  It was like a pressure bearing down on her suddenly, but entirely mental.

“Oh,” she realized out loud.  “You have your own Seer, don’t you?”

Her eyes flickered over the team behind him, settling on a man who she could instantly tell was the one in question.

He was somewhat tall, but had a thin and hollowed look to him.  His hair was unkempt, and he was staring right at her.

“That’s right,” Nadian replied.  “Captain, this is Tobias Fromm.  He’s a Seer.”  Nadian paused, and smiled.  “Sorry, a ‘Cerebral Reader’, as you’d call him.”

Brooks ignored the rudeness.

“This is Fergus Mac Domhnall – mythologist and fellow researcher.”

He finally gestured to the tall woman; her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and she seemed the type to rarely be amused by anything.  “And Katherine Michell, my foreman.  We’ll have Porter drones and that’s it.  Three of my team and two from yours.  Small teams are how I get things done.”

Brooks kept his expression neutral.  “Very well,” he said.

He knew that Urle and Y would object.  Well, everyone would object to this change of plans.  But there was no good to be had from arguing this.  It was less important who was going and that they were going at all.

In fact, he’d been expecting this.

Far better to bring too many and have some sent back, than bring just as many as he’d wanted and have to go with even fewer.

He hadn’t expected that it would be Kell, of all people, that Nadian would allow along – he’d expected Apollonia or Urle.  Both would likely be less intimidating than Y, and both would be useful in their own ways.

He turned back to look at his escorts.  “Lt. Pirra, take your team back on the shuttle.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.  She and the other members of Response Team One marched back on.  Among them, only Kessissiin showed any outward signs of annoyance.

“Cenz, Eboh, Zhu – get your work done then return to the Craton with Response Team One.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

He looked now to his team.  “Doctor, I’d like you to wait on the ship with RT1, unless I call you.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Apollonia stepped forward.  A lot of angry thoughts were running through her head, but she did not give voice to them.  Now was not the time, at the very least, and she knew there must be a reason Brooks was giving in to this asshole.

She had always been a fan of Nadian Farland.

Who couldn’t admire a guy who really went into the most obscure and dangerous places and came out with treasure and new knowledge?

But she was just Brooks’s ‘pet CR’ in his eyes.  The words stung, and she did not even know how to start going about rebutting them, only that she should not even try right now.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Nor,” Brooks said to her, and she knew he was apologizing sincerely.  “I’ll have to ask you to wait on the shuttle as well.”

“All right,” she said.  She glanced past him again, but at least the other Seer wasn’t making a smug face.  He was just staring at her exactly the same way.

She turned and left.

“Urle, you’ll stay with me until the shuttle is ready to leave,” Brooks said.  His words were a little louder, daring Farland to argue.  But the man seemed to accept that.

The techs and his command officers moved down one direction of the hall, being led by some of the Raven’s Ghost‘s crew, while Nadian waved for the others to follow him.

Fromm and Michell stayed close to him, but Mac Domhnall slipped back, towards Kell. 

“Ah, a Shoggoth!  I’ve long desired to meet one of your kind,” he said, pressing closer.  He put his hands out for Kell’s as they walked, but the Shoggoth did not respond in kind, merely staring back at the man with a vague air of annoyance.

When the being did not reply, Mac Domhnall pressed on.  “I have a lot of questions for you, as you can well imagine.”

Urle felt a vague amusement.  He looked to Kell, curious how he’d respond.  Kell rarely tolerated questions.

“Is that so,” Kell replied, his voice flat and unreceptive.

Mac Domhnall’s face fell slightly, catching the hint.

“Well surely you can tell me one of your legends.  I imagine a people as ancient as yours would have many!”

Kell turned to Brooks.  “As a condition of my being here you will keep me from being accosted by idiots.”

“Ach, don’t be like that!” Mac Domhnall proclaimed immediately.  “I’m top in my field, not some common fool!  Captain, please, tell the Shoggoth to play along.”

Brooks shrugged.  “I can do no such thing, and the Ambassador has made his position clear.”

“He dinnae have to insult me in the process!”

“No,” Brooks agreed.  “He did not.  But I can’t order him to be nice.”

Nadian looked amused.  “You annoy an alien mind, Fergus, you may get an answer you don’t like or expect.”

Mac Domhnall scowled, first at Nadian, then at Brooks and finally Kell.  After a moment, with a huff, the man quickened his pace, walking towards the head of the group.

Urle leaned closer to Kell.  “You really didn’t have to insult the man.  We’re working with him.”

“He annoyed me,” Kell replied.  “I am not a social being.”

“Yes, but we are.  You kind of accepted working with humans when you joined the Union.”

“I gave him signals that he should have understood,” Kell replied.  “That informed him of my lack of desire to speak with him.”

Urle sighed.  “Well at least don’t insult him.  As a personal favor to me.”

Kell seemed to consider.  “If I recall, it is you who have said that you owe me.  I would like to call in that favor now.”

Urle felt his apprehension rise.  “What do you want?” he asked carefully.

Kell pointed to Mac Domhnall, raising his voice slightly.  “Go and tell him he’s an idiot.”

The man heard them, turning back to glare.  His cheeks were reddening with anger.

“Kell,” Brooks said.  “Stop being antagonistic.  I’m making that an order.”

A message came up in Brooks’s HUD: And he’s the ambassador.

It was from Urle, and Brooks smiled slightly.

This was unusually intense, even for Kell.  He rarely stooped to insults.

“Is something bothering you about this?” he heard Urle ask softly.  “If you didn’t want to be here-“

“I must be here,” Kell said.  “But that does not mean I wish to be.”

Nadian stopped and turned.  “And why is that?”

The entire group came to a halt around the man, and Brooks felt the tension.

Kell seemed indifferent to it all.

Nadian continued.  “I do want to hear your point of view.  I won’t pester you for it on every little thing, but I think you’re closer to all of this than any of us.”

Brooks thought Kell would not reply or would deflect it.  He did neither.

“This is a placetime of transformation,” he said.  “As well as a curse.  You do not understand how or why yet.  But you will.”

< Ep 13 part 9 | Ep 13 part 11 >

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

Captain’s Log:

We have surfaced in realspace, at the far edge of humanity’s claimed systems.

The nearest star to our position is 109 Piscium, and we have located the relic temple.  It is, even at half a million kilometers distance, visible to the naked eye.

We are collecting all the data we can from this distance and have thoroughly mapped the exterior of the station – though what lies within remains a complete mystery.

Upon seeing the station, I could not help but to feel a very powerful sense of foreboding.  I believe I am not the only one.

There are many questions raised by this temple, not least of which being why no one found it before.  While it is at the edge of settled space, an object this large should have been seen prior to now.

I hope we can answer this and other questions soon.

Contact with Nadian Farland’s vessel, the Raven’s Ghost, will be made shortly.

*******

“Holy shit, I’m going?”

Brooks, his face on her tablet screen, looked slightly amused at her response.  “Yes, but try to watch the language.”

Apollonia immediately had the urge to spew out as many curses as she could while grinning, but resisted.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said.

“This may be dangerous, Apollonia,” Brooks told her.  “You understand that, right?”

“Yes,” she said.  “Hey, it wasn’t that long back when you sent me onto a pirate ship.”

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say to him, as his face darkened with guilt.

It hadn’t been a fun experience that time, but this time she wasn’t going to feel as alone.  Brooks was there – and he always had a handle on things.

Plus, Nadian Farland.

She felt like she was floating on air; not only was she getting to meet a childhood hero – because everyone knew Nadian Farland! – but even more importantly:

Her test was being postponed.

She had mixed feelings about her own excitement.  This test was what she had wanted, had worked and studied for.

She was terrified that she’d fail.

She was even scared that she would pass.

It wasn’t like she’d just be given a badge of rank right away.  There was a continuing educational process, and she was fairly certain that at some point it meant she would have to go to the Voidfleet Academy.

There were many branches, but none of them were on the Craton.  They were located in planetary systems, and . . .

She didn’t know if she wanted to leave the Craton.  Not yet.

At least, she thought, trying to remain mindful of the moment, she did not have to worry about it right now.

Brooks had terminated the call, and she received a notification to report to one of the docking bays where they’d be boarding a shuttle.

Nadian Farland!

Every kid growing up had seen his films, played his games, had the toys, or some combination thereof.  The man found alien treasures and fought space pirates.  Sure, there was huge embellishment, but there was a kernel of truth in his stories.  He really had done exciting things.

She had been studying, but little was sticking, and she’d been lingering on the same page for the last ten minutes.

She closed her study programs and stowed her tablet, before gathering up everything she might need.

Which didn’t amount to much; but she did bring a small medical bag that Zey had given her after Ko.  It had some neatly-bagged equipment that might let her help someone.

Leaving her cabin, she stopped in the doorway.

Across the hall, watching her door, was Kell.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, unnerved.

She only now felt his intrusive presence, and she wondered just how the bastard managed to control it so precisely.

Kell watched her unblinking for a long moment, and just as she was about to ask again, he spoke.

“You did not take my advice,” he said.

Anger, driven by fear, sparked up in her.  “You mean your stupid fortune-cookie wisdom about awakening myself?  I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was supposed to treat that as actionable intelligence.”

Kell said nothing, not even blinking.

“Really, what does that mean?  Was I supposed to look up on my tablet how to awaken my true self and stop dreaming of being a normal person?” she asked.

“You did not even try,” he said.  “Your answers lie within.”

“And you know what?” she said.  “Maybe I don’t want answers to whatever cryptic questions you want to pose to me.  I don’t care why I’m different or weird or creepy.  I don’t want to be a Seer, and I just want to do something . . .” she flailed for a word.  “Something useful!”

Kell looked just slightly disappointed.  “It is an unfairly short period of time for you.  You are not yet ready.  I am sorry.  What will come will be a shock to you.”

She felt her insides crawl.  Kell had never been this talkative to her.  Typically he was just . . . silent and staring.

He was still doing the latter, and she hated it.  She was tired of it.

“You know I hate you, don’t you?” she said quietly.

Kell nodded.  “I expect so.”

“You murdered a . . . a baby.”

Kell’s head tilted, an eyebrow going up.  “You are so close to understanding.  Yet you do not search.”

“Fuck you!” she spat, turning and walking away as fast as she could.

Kell did not follow her.

< Ep 13 part 8 | Ep 13 part 10 >

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

“I would like to see the doctor, please.”

Zey looked up from her screen at the young priest standing in the doorway.  Father Cathal Sair, her system identified him.

Zey puzzled over his request.  “Come in,” she said.  “I don’t see you have an appointment.  Is this an emergency?”

The man smiled slightly.  “No, I just developed a problem and thought I’d come in.”

“Oh, I see.  What is the nature of your issue?”

“I have a headache,” Cathal said.  “I know that’s a rather silly issue, but it is quite distracting.”

“Pain is pain,” Zey said with a shrug.  “Next time you can just send us a message on your way, and we can get you seen quicker.  Just for future reference.”

He nodded.  “Thank you.”

A drone appeared.  It hovered, waiting, next to him.

“Since you’re not a Union citizen, we require you give verbal permission for it to treat you.”

Cathal frowned.  “I am sorry, but I have a religious tenet that means I need an actual doctor,” he said.  “‘The machine’s hands are not man’s’ and ‘the true hands must tend to the care of the body’.”

Zey was surprised again.  “I see, I didn’t know about that.  Dr. Y is-“

“I am, in fact, here,” Y said, stepping from the back into the reception room.  “Ah, hello Father Sair.”

“Hello, Doctor,” Sair said.  “I must . . .  well, Doctor, I mean no offense, but your hands are those of a machine, are they not?  I think what I need is a doctor of flesh and blood.”

Zey frowned, concern and confusion on her face as she looked to Y.

“That is quite understandable,” Y replied.  “Do not worry, I feel no offense.  I shall fetch Dr. Zyzus for you, Father.”

“I am in your debt,” Cathal said, bowing.  He glanced to Zey.  “And yours, Nurse.”

“Uh, sure?” Zey replied.  She hadn’t even done anything.

“Doctor Zyzus is on his way,” Y said.  “In the meantime, Father, I trust there is nothing wrong with me asking you some questions?”

“That would be fine,” Cathal replied.

“How do you feel about the effect of the transdisestablishation doctrine on the relations of your religion with various governments?”

Surprise showed on Cathal’s face.  “I did not expect you to be aware of the transdisestablishation doctrine, doctor.”

“I have read your holy books,” Y replied.  “As well as the Nine Commentaries of Atticus, the Reverence of the Holy Void by Lance, and the next fifty-seven classic suctres on your religion, and all relevant supplementary material.  Your beliefs are very interesting.”

Cathal smiled.  “And here is where I must wonder if the mind of metal is equal to the mind of man in the ways that truly matter?”

“A paraphrasing of Occiduseus in the NeoLatin Annals.  It is an interesting question, I agree.  What level do supplicites read it, tenth or twelfth?  There were conflicting sources.”

“Tenth originally, but the Seventh Council of Quanna changed it to the twelfth.”  Cathal then bowed.  “I feel myself truly humbled at your mastery, Doctor.  Might we continue this discussion another day?  Time is not on my side today, and my mind does not work as fast as yours.”

“Of course,” Y said amiably.  “I shall leave you in Nurse Boziak’s skilled care.”  The machine-body of Y turned on its heel, walking into the back.

A silence descended, and while Cathal looked completely calm, Zey found herself feeling awkward.

“I hear you guys use a lot of incense,” she said.

“Sometimes,” Cathal replied.  “The smoke is calming.”

“It’s also bad for your lungs.  You ever think breathing in all that could be the cause of your headache?”

“No,” Cathal replied, his tone nearing sharp, and his face certainly turning so.

Zey leaned back, surprise on her face.  She hadn’t meant to insult the man.

She looked at her system; Zyzus was still five minutes out.  He’d been in another part of the ship, but was on his way.

“Have you and Apple been spending much time together?” she asked, hoping to turn the conversation to a more pleasant direction.

“Ah, you know her yourself, yes?  I understand you two became friends on Ko,” Sair replied.

“That’s right,” Zey said, noticing how he’d flipped the question around to her.  “Has she told you about it?”

Sair’s eyes went distant, and he frowned.  “I apologize, but thinking of Ko – it’s saddening, isn’t it?  I wish I had been allowed to go down to the world.  I might have brought life and salvation both to more people there.”

“I know that it was a very hard selection process,” Zey said carefully.  “It wasn’t just a matter of caring or I think most of the ship would have been out there.”

Sair smiled sadly.  “And yet I could have tried.  Now the souls of the !Xomyi people are confined to the endless void for all time.”

Zey frowned a little, stepping back and moving to look at her computer screen.  It was only to seem like plausible work.

“Have you ever thought of your soul and its fate, Nurse Boziak?” Cathal continued.  “I know you are from Gohhi, not the Union, and so spirituality may not be an alien concept to you-“

“How did you know I was from Gohhi?” Zey asked, her face going stark.  “I don’t tell people that.  It’s not even public information.  Did Apple tell you that?”

“Apollonia is a trustworthy person,” Cathal replied.  “One beetle simply recognizes another.”

Zey felt her panic fade, and the man’s easy, calm smile made her sudden alarm seem silly.  He was also from Gohhi – she could have guessed that about him, from his accent.  A different station from hers, one of the less pleasant ones.

The door from the hall opened, and Dr. Zyzus came in.  He sighed.  “Father Sair, I understand you requested my presence?”

Sair turned, bowing slightly.  “I apologize for the annoyance, doctor.  My religion simply makes my options for medical care somewhat narrow.”

“I understand,” Zyzus said.  “Well – come now, Father.  I will get you a cure for your headache.”

Zyzus went into an examination room, Cathal following him.

Zyzus’s weary mask disappeared in an instant.

“I was concerned when you asked to see me so suddenly.  Is all on schedule?” the doctor asked.

“The preparations are proceeding well.  The ritual will coincide.”

“It must,” Zyzus said.  “This is our only chance to make it so.  Is the takwin prepared?”

Cathal’s face dropped slightly.  “I have . . . prepared it, as you wished.”  A flicker of emotion went across his face.  “But must we take this course?”

“What other is there to take?  We need just one more,” Zyzus said.  “You know this.”

“I only think that there may be other options, of greater value.  With your permission, I will make preparations for other eventualities as well, and come the time-“

Zyzus let out a frustrated sigh.  “Prepare,” he said, waving.  “But the final decision will be made later.”

“Thank you,” Cathal said.  “I . . . I wish for there to be another choice but for Apollonia to die.”

< Ep 13 part 7 | Ep 13 part 9 >

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

Tred was panting by the time he got to Reactor Seven.

He had not started out running, only walking quickly.  He didn’t recall the excuses he’d made to the ground crew and officers about why he’d come in early.

“You’ll have to make it up tomorrow,” was the only part he recalled.  A whole new spacewalk . . .

But that was a minor problem in comparison to Jophiel leaving.

When he came into the Reactor, there was a flurry of activity.  Engineers and other personnel were all over the room, doing . . . something.

“Is the Ambassador still leaving?” he asked one of them.

The man paused, frowning slightly.  He took a moment to recognize Tred, who he was in relation to the Ambassador.

“Yes, the Ambassador is going to be departing soon.  Her actual departure date has been delayed until after our current assignment is complete, however.”

Tred felt his shoulders slump.  So it was true . . . the horrible thought had occurred to him that this was a prank by someone . . . well, no one on the Craton would be that cruel!  Maybe Kell?  No, the Shoggoth seemed to have no sense of humor.

But he had hoped it might have been a mistake.

“A-are my services . . . no longer required?” he asked.

The officer frowned again.  “If that’s what you’ve been told, then yes.  Ambassador Jophiel has released most of her staff.  But if you want to assist in the deconstruction, I can-“

“Can I talk to her?” Tred blurted out.

The officer looked surprised.  His eyes unfocused, as he looked at a message in his HUD.

“The Ambassador has said it’s fine,” the man told him.

Tred got on the computer terminal, connecting to the system.

“A-Ambassador?” he called.

There was a pause – just a tiny one, but it felt so long to him.

“Hello, Tred,” Jophiel said.

“Madam Ambassador . . . I . . .  I don’t know what quite to say,” he stuttered out.

“I am sorry, Tred,” Jophiel told him.  “I had wanted to talk to you personally, not just send a message . . . but you were busy, so I just left it.”  She fell silent a few seconds.  “I am glad you came.”

He struggled for words.  “Why?” he finally managed to ask.

He didn’t mean why she was glad, and he hoped that she did not think that, but she seemed to understand his point.

“Tred . . . I came here for a purpose.  I know I was not a typical ambassador.  I did not look at treaties or sign documents or . . . well, meet that many people.  My people do not even have many of the concepts that yours have.  I came here as a test, to see how my kind and yours could co-exist.  Beyond just the most literal.”

“I . . . I know that,” he said.

“My time was always finite . . . Oh, Tred, I’m sorry.  You are a very good person.  The time I have spent with you has been . . .”

She trailed off.  Tred hung on the silence, his mouth dry.

“I have learned enough,” she said.  “I need to go back to my people and tell them about what I’ve seen, experienced.  There are important things – things that they must know.”

“Like about us,” he said, his voice a squeak.  “War.  Our violence.”

“Yes,” she admitted.  “They are concepts that I have a hard time understanding.  You are . . . your worlds are so different from what we know.  Your conditions are different, and there are so many kinds of you.  Your misunderstandings and different goals interact in complex ways.  How will that affect us?  I can’t figure these things out by myself.  I have to go home, and tell them.”

Tred was quiet, his mind going empty under a dull blanket of sadness.

“Tred?” she said.  “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he told her.

“Are you okay?”

He did not know what to say to that.

“I love you,” he said.

He could not spare the thought to be horrified at what he said.  He just knew that he had to say it, even if it was stupid.  It might ruin his career and his life, he thought.

Jophiel said nothing, for a very long time.

“I do not know if what I feel for you, Tred, is the same as what you feel for me.  I do not know that our concepts of love are anything like each other.  We are too different.  And that is another reason why I need to go.”

Tred spoke, and he did not need to think about his words.  “Thank you, Madam Ambassador.  It has been an honor serving you.”

There was a long silence, and he disconnected from the line, slumping back into his seat.

There was no hour so late on the Craton that her establishments were ever empty.

It was like that on every ship, every fleet, Ham Sulp had ever seen.  Sure, there was an official day/night cycle.  But with multiple shifts, people kept all sorts of hours.

The Crooked Barstool was the closest thing to a dive bar that existed on the Craton.  It was not the kind of place where one could find a fight, but it did as good a job as he could hope of emulating one.  The lighting was low, and the booths had high backs, so you could feel like you had privacy.  The drinks had the burn of the cheap and strong stuff you could get in a proper dive, and no one would bother you.

It was still a big place, though, like every establishment on the Craton.  Lots of people liked the atmosphere, and it had a brisk patronage.

Sulp sighed, and shook the ice in his glass around, wishing he could get more drunk.  Lots of reasons prevented it, including the ship’s systems knowing exactly his alcohol tolerance and not letting him go too far.

He had toyed with the idea of trying to pull rank on it, but it was not a wise idea.

He did not notice Zeela Cann approaching until she sat down across from him.

Sulp had just lifted his glass to take a sip of his drink, and paused with it on his lips.

“I’m not wanting company,” he said.

“Yes, well you need it anyway,” Zeela Cann replied, adjusting in her seat.  A drone came by almost immediately with a drink for her.  “I saw that Zeus was in your office today.”

Sulp frowned.  Was he that predictable that she could read him from that?

Well, probably.  The woman’s mind was like an algorithm, finding patterns where others missed them.

He couldn’t say he actually minded her presence, either.  Out of anyone, she was the most acceptable.

They only needed Cutter, and the three of them – he, resources, she in administration, and the Bicet in engineering – were the three who really kept the ship running.  More than just a good working relationship, they all had a realistic view of how things worked.

That, and she was another vet of Terris.

“Fine,” he said.  “How are you doing?”

She smiled lightly.  “I’m the one who’s supposed to ask you that.”

He shrugged.  “You can see.  I’m up too late drinking, wishing I had more.”

She nodded in understanding, her eyes glazing over.  “I hate these memories.”

“How bad was it on your end?” he asked.  Zeela hadn’t been in admin at that time, but serving as Executive Commander on a heavy carrier.  The name escaped him.

“I was in Battlefleet C,” she said, swirling her drink slightly before sipping it.  “At the rear, of course.  Outside of . . . well, the shadow.”

The Reality Break Shadow; the area around Leviathans where physics no longer worked as it should.  Materials would warp and move, entire ships could twist into strange and unnatural shapes.  So could the people in them.  Seemingly at random.

“So your ship wasn’t hurt?”

“No.  I just got to see what happened to people on the ones that were hurt.  The Shading Arrow had a lot of space, so we took on a lot of people.  And they had the most grotesque injuries I’ve ever seen.”  She glanced up at him.  “I’ve seen combat casualties before.  This wasn’t like that.  There was nothing to be done for people whose entire bodies had turned into . . . something else.  Sometimes a person wouldn’t even seem so bad, and you’d come back to check on them and they . . .”

She trailed off.

Sulp knew what she was going to say.  Sudden Reality Failure – not the technical jargon, people had just started calling it that.  In the days after Terris, thousands had succumbed.  They might literally dissolve or become a mass of meaningless, non-functional flesh covered in random eyes or . . .

He slammed his drink down, not wanting to head down that way any more.

“We’ve seen weird shit since then,” he said.  “I always thought it’d help.  Get me used to it.  I mean, we don’t have pretensions, do we?  Like you said, we’ve seen combat.  It’s never pretty.  Even if you can understand the injuries.”

“But it doesn’t help,” she said, nodding.  “It just keeps making it worse.”

“Funny how they don’t test us more after all the recent stuff,” Sulp muttered.

“That wasn’t the same,” Zeela said.  “We weren’t exposed to as many tenkions.  Or krahteons, I don’t know, whatever.”

“Tenkions are the particles, krahteons the force-carriers.  You know the difference, you’re just feigning ignorance to change the topic.”

“Touche,” she replied, knocking back most of her remaining drink.

“Brooks never seems troubled like we are,” Sulp noted.

“He just doesn’t show his cards,” Zeela replied.  “He’s made out of Antarctic ice.  It doesn’t melt.”

“Yeah, that’s what they thought a thousand years ago, too.”  Sulp shrugged.  There was nothing but ice left in his glass, even the meltwater didn’t have the taste of alcohol left to it.

“And how did your test go?” he finally got around to asking.  The real question to ask – all Terris vets were tested once a year.  Just in case.

“I didn’t have any sign of mutation,” she said.  “And you?”

“They tell me I’m fine.”

She smiled a little.  “Well, here’s to being fine.”

She toasted, and he clinked his glass to hers, but neither of them drank.

< Ep 13 part 6 | Ep 13 part 8 >