Humanity Rising

by A. R. Knight

  My Shadows - the three left, anyway - step up around me, and Viera, behind me, has her hands on her pistols. I hold up a hand, telling them not to start something stupid.

  “You are the leader?” the Oratus asks, its light hiss mingling with the whistle of mountain wind.

  “I am,” I reply. “Thank you for coming.”

  The Oratus cocks its head to the side. “We should thank you. This was the last Sevora fleet. With its destruction, their ability to expand is ruined.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about that, so I settle for a stare. The conversation, though, has passed beyond the easy introduction, and treads into awkward territory. The Vincere came, destroyed our enemies, and the only thing I want from them now is to leave and let us recover.

  Diplomacy, however, requires compromise. Requires being polite.

  Then the Oratus speaks and turns my plans to ash.

  “You do not seem surprised to see us,” the Oratus says. “Unlike the others of your kind, you do not shrink away. Tremble in fear.” The emerald creature glances at Viera. “Neither does she.”

  A second Oratus, a darker blue in color, steps up behind the first. “They ought to be scared.”

  “Gar,” the first Oratus says. “Stop. You’ve had your fill.”

  “Always ready for seconds,” the blue one, Gar, replies. “These don’t look so furry either, with more meat on their bones.”

  Even as my warriors shift around me, I know a joke when I hear it and crack a smile. “I’ve seen Oratus. Once before, two of you stole me from here.”

  I’m expecting a question or two, but what I get instead is a sudden tightening from both Oratus. Their tails touch, and then the green one crouches low until its eyes meet mine.

  “Who stole you?”

  “There were two,” I say, feeling like this is a bad idea, but that lying would be even worse. “One with gray scales, called Sax, the other a pink-gold one named Bas. They took me and a couple of my friends to a station called Cobalt.”

  The emerald Oratus straightens, looks at Gar, who offers a slight baring of teeth. That seems to send a message, one that causes the emerald Oratus to expel a lot of air from its vents in a heavy sigh.

  “We did not expect to find our ambassador so quickly,” the Oratus says. “You will be returning with us, human. Gather your things, and pack carefully, for I don’t know how long you will be gone.”

  4 Saving A Species

  The surface of Solis comes through as the shuttle breaks the heavy clouds. It’s a sight Sax hasn’t seen in a very, very long time. A long stripe of verdant green, a gash on an otherwise dry and rocky brown landscape. On one end of the scar, a giant mountain rises, and on the other, a low-lying lake marks the destination of the wide streams and rivers running through that strip of jungle. A kilometers-wide valley carved between two rising cliffs.

  What catches the eye most, though, are the series of arches spanning that valley, rising up over the jungle from cliff to cliff and covered with stone-like armor. They look natural, brown and weathered by the often and turbulent storms that break and flush from one end of the valley to the other. Adorning each of these arches, and hanging like ripe blackberries, are the bulbous chambers that brought Sax to life.

  “You have a particular target in mind?” the Flaum pilot, an ashen-furred one with scarred ears, asks.

  Sax leans over her, staring out the shuttle’s windshield. Crash netting hangs behind him, forgotten in the moment. Like how Sax is going to find his pair. Her mission was to exterminate the source of the Oratus, to prevent the Chorus from making newer, more loyal versions that wouldn’t hesitate to cut Sax down. A task like that doesn’t lend itself to being conspicuous.

  “I... don’t know,” Sax hisses.

  “You’re going to have to make a choice soon,” the Flaum replies. “I can’t just dawdle up here. Cacia’s entry code’s only going to work for so long.”

  “They wouldn’t shoot us down.”

  “Solis doesn’t play around, Oratus,” the Flaum says and Sax gives a low warning hiss, but the furrball doesn’t flinch. “Can’t scare me - if they think we’re not normal, they’ll blow us apart and figure it out later. Which makes your threats all kinds of worthless.”

  The Flaum has a point, and so Sax chooses the farthest arch, the one closest to the lake. It would make sense for Bas to start from there, work her way up, rather than go to the Mountain and deal with all the Oratus-in-training coming her way.

  Sax expects the shuttle to land at one of the hatcheries, but instead the Flaum targets the near side of the third arch, settling in for a landing at the very edge of the rocky mass. As they draw in closer, the ground beyond the arch, devoid of plants and anything other than gray dirt, shifts aside to reveal a small docking bay. One that, going by the speed of the door and the lack of lights inside, hasn’t seen visitors in a very long while.

  Yet, when the boarding ramp lowers and Sax sets foot on his homeworld for the first time since his birth, he’s not alone. Another Oratus, the deep green bracelet of a Cache wrapped around his teal-colored left foreclaw, waits for him. What little lights there are frame the only exit, a single large door clearly meant for hauling small amounts of cargo. The Oratus stands in front of it and watches as Sax descends.

  “You’re wounds mark your status, Oratus,” the greeter says. “What business do you have on Solis?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” Sax replies, talons settling into the packed-dirt floor of the bay. “Though if you’d seen her, you would be dead.”

  If this surprises the Oratus, there’s no sign.

  “You doubt our own skill? Solis has remained unconquered for its duration,” the Oratus says. “We’ve trained thousands and thousands here. Any one seeking to attack this place would find themselves both over-matched and out-skilled.”

  “She doesn’t want to fight you,” Sax says. “She wants to kill you. I need to tell her not to.”

  That gets the Oratus to cock his head. To puzzle for a moment. Then, slowly, he speaks, “If what you say is true, then you should come inside. Leave your pilot out here. No other species is allowed on Solis, save with our consent.”

  Sax has no problem with that. Flaum are always more trouble than they’re worth.

  Sax follows the Oratus down the dim, rock-ridged corridor. The air’s cool and still, and it’s nice to walk, for once, without the clack of talons on metal floor. Hard-packed dirt might be primitive, but it feels soft on Sax’s feet - the sand brings back brief memories of his start.

  His birth, if Sax wants to call it that.

  The next room, the main one for this hatchery, is huge. Like the top half of an onion, the room’s sloped walls rise to a point far above them, the section anchored into the arch itself. Spaced throughout the chamber, both on the floor next to them and sitting in honeycombed creches along the room’s sides, are large purple-red sacs. Each one has a small machine - no larger than Sax’s midclaws - attached to it, showing a gradually-greening ring.

  “This is your first time back, isn’t it?” his guide says. “Most never return to Solis.”

  “I’m not here for the memories,” Sax replies. “Have you seen her? Bas?”

  “You’re in such a hurry,” the Oratus says, pausing near a bulging sack, its ring almost fully green. “Part of the problem of our species, I think, is that we’re always running to the next conflict.”

  “What else is there?”

  The Oratus laughs at this, but Sax picks up plenty of disappointment in the low hissing. “Do you know how they choose us? The ones who watch the hatcheries, who guide the new-formed Oratus?”

  Of all the topics Sax has never once considered in his life, this has to be close to the bottom. What use would such a thought be? Knowing how these hatcheries are maintained won’t help him beat the Sevora, won’t help him destabilize the Chorus.

  Sax is about to tell the guide to take him to Bas and be quiet while doing it, but there’s something in the Oratu
s’ expression, a light in its eyes and an eager twitch to the creature’s tail that tells Sax this one’s gone a long time without real conversation.

  “I have no idea,” Sax finally says.

  “We’re the failures,” the guide hisses. “The ones that survive, but crash out of training. We don’t make it through the wheels, don’t find pairs or lose them. This is an exile, when it should be an honor.”

  Sax takes a step back, more at the tone than anything else. There’s genuine anger coming out of this teal Oratus’ mouth. The same sort of frustration Sax might express if he were left to rot on a background planet doing nothing but watching Oratus grow day after day.

  “Don’t you wonder how we stay sane? What they do to keep us happy?” the Oratus continues.

  Sax, though, realizes now how quiet it is in here. Aside from the shifting of the occasional sack, there’s no noise. No other Flaum, and Sax recalls plenty of those when he first emerged.

  “I don’t have time,” Sax manages a reply as the strangeness twists in his gut.

  Sax adjusts his stance, widens his legs and loosens his claws. He brings his tail down to the ground, subtly pressing it into the earth so that, if necessary, Sax can use it to push off.

  “Nobody ever does, for us,” the Oratus says. “So when she came, when she explained to me how forgotten I am, how unappreciated we are, I heard the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “That we need to spare them all,” the Oratus gestures around the hatchery. “All the Amigga give us are lives of violence and death. Why should we allow that to happen?”

  “Where are the Flaum, Oratus?”

  “Gone, Sax.” The sac next to the Oratus shifts along the floor, and the Oratus gives it a dire look. Raises a talon, as if to destroy it. “They aren’t necessary anymore. I don’t need their help for this.”

  Sax springs forward, tackles the Oratus and drives the guide into the ground. Pins the guide’s claws back against the dirt, making sure to keep his own head high enough, away from the guide’s sharp teeth.

  “Their lives are not your decision,” Sax hisses.

  Sax expects resistance, struggle, but the guide only looks confused.

  “When Rav sent the message you were coming, Bas said you would support us?” the guide says. “You want to end our pain as much as she does?”

  “Change of plans,” Sax says. “The Oratus need to survive, so we can make sure the Chorus does not.”

  The guide twists his head on the ground to look at the sac, almost ready to hatch. “So you would give us a new purpose?”

  “We’re trying to give you freedom to choose.”

  “Then Bas? Why would she?”

  “Because at the time we thought you better dead than fighting against us,” Sax says. “Turns out you can change an Oratus mind.”

  Sax makes a quick calculation that the guide isn’t ready to fight anymore and slowly stands up, lets the guide get his claws back. The guide, for his part, takes his time climbing to his talons, shocked in more ways than one.

  “Bas doesn’t know,” Sax continues. “I need to find her.”

  The guide shakes his head. “She’s not here. By now she’s probably on the farthest arch.” The Oratus stares at Sax, raising his foreclaws up as if only now realizing what he’s done. “Bas was... very convincing. She made sure we took care of our own assistants. You have to stop her.”

  “Call the other arches. Tell them what I’ve told you,” Sax hisses, though he’s already turning to run back to his ship.

  The Flaum pilot hasn’t raised the boarding ramp, and she’s napping at the controls when Sax’s heavy bounds startle her up from her sleep. In moments Sax has the story told and they’re lifting off, out through the doors and up into Solis’ sky.

  To the first arch.

  They’re barely aloft before the shuttle’s communications array crackles through the speakers embedded in the front line of terminals.

  “Coming from the ground,” the Flaum pilot says. “They’re hailing.”

  “Answer it.” Sax checks the screen - the identifier’s blocked, which, in a way, identifies who it is.

  The Flaum taps the flashing orange screen, which shifts to a lighter green to show the connection’s been made.

  “Sax, you came for me,” Bas’s hiss comes through the terminal. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

  “I made a different deal,” Sax hisses. “We’re keeping the Oratus alive.”

  Bas hesitates. “Nobody told me.”

  “I’m telling you,” Sax says. “Where are you?”

  “The first arch.”

  “Wait for me? And don’t kill anyone?”

  “You’re the one who can’t control himself, Sax.” There’s a bit of laughter in Bas’ voice, but a tinge of uncertainty too.

  She’s looking for something.

  “I’m not a hostage,” Sax says. “I’d die first.”

  That gets a happy sigh through the call. “Glad you don’t have to,” Bas says.

  They meet not long after, on the ground outside the first arch. Sax descends the ramp to find his pink-gold pair standing in the small bay waiting for him, Bas’ own shuttle making the space crowded. It’s the longest Sax has gone without seeing his pair since they’ve met. Days passed, either on Rathfall, trying to find his way back into civilization, or on Rav’s frigate, nearly dying and then being pieced back together. That’s the first thing Bas notices, her yellow eyes going wide as her midclaws touch the missing sections in Sax’s glinting gray scales. She runs those eyes up and down her pair, and Sax stays quiet for a moment as he does the same. Their foreclaws clasp and the tips of their tails wrap around each other on the floor.

  “I hoped, but didn’t think we’d ever see each other again,” Bas says first. “They said you would go to Evva and try to bring down the Chorus. From here, I’m supposed to go up and try, somehow, to destroy the Oratus training ship.”

  “You don’t have to do that anymore,” Sax says. “They tried to get me to do what you said, I refused. Violently.”

  “You didn’t kill them all.”

  Sax cracks his razer mouth open in a smile. “They’re still alive.”

  “Then what now? Evva?”

  Sax nods. “That was the deal. I’d come here and stop your part of the mission, then we’d both head to the Chorus and tear them apart.”

  “You almost took too long,” Bas flicks a glance behind her. “I never realized how close all of these caretaker Oratus are to losing their minds. All I had to do was explain how we were being used, and they were ready to cast it all away.”

  “They’ll have a better purpose once the Amigga are gone.”

  Bas laughs. “It’s that easy? Once they’re gone?”

  “Bas, I managed to get the Vincere leaders orbiting this planet to join us,” Sax says. “If I can persuade people without using my claws, then we’re destined to win.”

  Bas asks more questions and Sax answers, then they swap roles and talk more. Eventually the Flaum pilot comes down and asks whether they’ll be staying long, as she’s getting hungry and they didn’t pack much food in their craft. That serves as enough of a cue to grab a snack, climb back in their shuttle, and pack off to orbit.

  On the way up, Bas dishes one more long communication to the caretakers she’d just turned against their own race. It’s a short one, an ask to stay their claws, to keep the new Oratus growing, a promise that they’ll be hatching into a better future.

  A promise Sax knows they’ll keep.

  5 Departure by Design

  “Right, except I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t flinch away from the Oratus, despite the fact that its claws could eviscerate me before any of my Shadows could intervene. “I just made it back here, and my people have been under attack.”

  The Oratus stares at me. Regards me as I would a particularly interesting plant.

  “Human, you are a new species,” the Oratus hisses. “You are, right now, apart f
rom the rest of the galaxy. Do you know of the Chorus?”

  I’ve heard the term, mostly back on Vimelia, the Sevora homeworld where the Chorus was mainly mentioned with disdain. Supposedly a group of Amigga - those round, strange creatures - make up the Chorus, and use these Oratus to force the galaxy to do what they want.

  There’s also the fact that one of those Amigga, one named Ignos, may have created humans.

  “I’ve heard of it,” I finally say.

  “They will need someone to speak for your species. If that will not be you, then who?” the Oratus says.

  “I’ll do it,” Viera announces from behind me. “She doesn’t have to go.”

  “Viera?” I look back at her, confused. “What?”

  “Told you, Empress. I’m a traveler - that’s why I left the mountains for the jungle so long ago. If we’re not going to get attacked, then it seems like all we’ll be doing is putting humanity back together,” Viera shrugs. “That’s not what I’m interested in.”

  Could I let Viera go as the ambassador for humanity? Alone?

  “Come back,” I tell the Oratus. “Tomorrow. When the light rises again, we’ll be back here, ready to go.”

  The Oratus delivers a low hiss, “Acceptable.”

  Once the declaration is made, the Oratus wastes no time; it roars a command, and its troops pile back into the craft. Its doors slide shut as we back away, and I’m wondering how the shuttle is going to break free of the rock it drove into during its landing, when a loud grinding noise begins. The ground beneath our feet shakes, loose rocks rattle and snow slips from its perches as the ship drills itself free.

  I expect the shuttle, as its front loosens away from the rock, to fall over and slide down the hillside, but an array of small orange circles across its bottom hull spark to life and let the shuttle straighten out while hovering in the air. It rotates, floats a small distance away, and with a smoking burst of crackling sound, the craft roars up into a sky still spotted with the fading remains of the Sevora fleet.