by Odin Oxthorn
Silence marked her path. No birds chirped. No insects chattered. Nothing stirred in the grasses.
She burst into the clearing, where her suspicions were confirmed. The booming grumble of an apex predator narrowing in on the campsite. It leered at her, disturbed by the commotion of her entrance.
The beast was massive, its trail marked by the trampled young foliage too fragile to survive its impact. It stood on four legs nearly a meter above Nara. Jagged chitinous plating spiked its wraith-like structure, and it emoted its displeasure through the thwap of four barbed tails. Its pointed jaw was wrapped tight with leathery maroon-tinged skin. Horned crests traced over its feral eyes, burning with a voracious emerald glow.
No one else was around. She was alone with the beast.
Something shifted in her core, a familiarity that sent pangs of discomfort across her skin. Agitation. Anger.
A fire rose in her throat, crawling through her vision. Bitterness. Her mouth opened against her will. Sound forced out of her lungs, a mighty roar that strained her chords. The trees shuddered in response, the bellow reaching beyond the campsite.
“LEAVE.”
The creature stopped in its tracks, craning its neck down to examine the strange, noisy humanoid. It took a step forward, hot, pungent air swirling around her as it sniffed.
But it was not moved by her attempt at intimidation, and it sank down on its haunches, its multitude of fangs bared.
The fire tore through her eyes. Her nerves seized as a furor overtook her senses. Blackness began to consume her.
“Elam!” The name barely registered in her ears, a vein of clarity washing away the ink. She stepped forward. She could not hear the machinery stir behind her, the sound of energy ramping up.
Her eyes met the creature’s. She was closer than she thought. It raised a taloned paw, ready to strike. Her body moved before her brain. She dove and rolled away from the speeding claws. Her legs bolted her upright, and she leapt up to meet the creature’s skull.
Another roar belted from her throat, and she felt her shoulders launch forward. Her fist swung out. The impact of bone tore through her knuckles. A discordant baying rang through her ears. Thunder echoed after as the creature reeled back. It tripped over itself in a daze, falling to the earth.
It righted itself on shaking legs, retreating into the forest with staggering steps, leaving a trail of blood behind.
“Elam!” The call repeated. Nara snapped out of her trance, looking down at shining skin of her silver-coated forearm dripping with blood. Her strike had penetrated the creature’s plating, bursting through to softened flesh.
Ki’nit ran up to her side, taking her arm and ushering her to the fire.
“Are you all right, child?” Fariem hurried over.
“Yeah. I… yeah.” Her eyes stared beyond the trees in a daze.
“Why didn’t you back off? Syf nearly fired at you!”
Nara turned to the assistant exiting the buggy, the delicate glow of the frontal weapons battery dimming to nothingness.
“I thought I could handle it,” she lied.
“What utter pain you bring to me, child.” Fariem straightened their coat. They were visibly agitated. Something bothered them that they were not expressing, and Nara did not have the capacity to investigate further. “Handle it? It’s four times your size!”
Nara shrugged distractedly. “It’s gone now, isn’t it?”
“A thousand daggers, child.”
“I had dinner, but it got away,” she reported, ignoring the curse.
“I’ve managed to catch a thing or two. Don’t worry about it,” Ki’nit assured, slipping their pack off their back. They opened it up and pulled out a case revealing flat, snake-like creatures with angry little jaws snapping at each other. Their oily smooth skin proved a struggle for them on dry land as they fought for personal space inside the container. “Freshwater eels should do nicely about now.”
Ki’nit set to work preparing the meal. Their expertise with a knife was unmatched as they cleaned the fish. Warm spiced scents began to fill the air as they seasoned the meat, its perfume magnified by the wood smoke as the skins seared over the fire. They took great care with the delicate textures, expertly turning and adjusting until it crisped to a soft amber.
Syf went to prepare the presentation of the meal, dishing out a collection of fresh vegetables and fruits they had gathered on their venture. They took out jars of preserves from storage, their deft hands dressing the plates with colorful spiced ingredients. Several clear glass bottles of home-brewed ciders and cordials accented the setting, the warm ambers and blood reds coordinating with the warm tones of the feast.
When everything was served, they all took their place in front of the fire. Silence carried the conversation, no one wanting to address the encounter. A nagging sensation poked at Nara, something itching from the depths of her memory. She could feel the insecurity emanating from all of them, a pang of guilt, even. She knew better than to inquire. She had tried before.
The fire consumed the void, its flickering comfort emanating through their spirits. Weariness pulled at the observers as sated hunger and mild inebriation added their weight. Syf leaned on Ki’nit’s shoulder, their dreamy-eyed expression tracing around the pit. Soon, the duo rose, hands on hips as they ventured into the forest.
The stillness that remained raked across Nara’s mind. She reached for the half-empty bottle of cordial and poured it into her metal cup. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Fariem?”
“No.” They stiffened at the inquiry.
“Very well.” Liquid sloshed as she swirled her vessel around. “Despite the interruption, did you gather enough material?”
“For now, yes.”
Their dismissive tone irked Nara, and she restrained a scowl from the inside of her cup. “I am fine, Fariem.”
“But for how long?” Their eyes suddenly snapped to her. “You can’t keep shoving back your own needs for some façade of obligation.”
“My position does not permit me to—”
“Stop it already. Listen to yourself for once.” Their incensed voice echoed against the trees. Ashamed that they’d let their feelings loose, they eased their tone. “If all you do is react to the present, there will be no future for you.”
Nara ground her jaw in response.
“I am turning in.” Fariem stood, avoiding her gaze as they headed for their tent.
Wonderful. As the fire began to die down, the chill of the night air danced over Nara’s back. She was too distracted to be concerned, the morbid familiarity of the fight leaving her questioning her sanity. Fuck it.
She grabbed the bottle of cordial and wandered into the trees. Images of the fight tangled with her memory, the creature’s expression, the sinking disconnect within her guts. And yet… she knew this experience. Arcadia? Perhaps. But even further back, something had transpired.
She stopped at the base of a craggy fruit tree, its plentiful boughs reaching toward the stars. Clutching the neck of the bottle between her teeth, she ambled up the monolith, taking comfort in every abrasion that skimmed over her skin. Her head emerged from the canopy, the splendor of the scenery meeting her senses.
Gradients of blues and greens moved across the night sky, illuminated by the stars and beacons of the drifting fleet. The cries of birds echoed in the breeze, calls of formation to their brethren. The rustle of leaves warped the air, breathing a quiet murmur of assurance. Fragrant living foliage sweetened the atmosphere in intoxicating living perfumes.
She situated herself in a natural hammock amid the tangle of branches, letting leaves cover her in a blanket of serenity. Her eyes moved with the trail of satellites, their flight distracting her from the world below. Do I dare attempt to sleep? Perhaps for a moment.
Her eyes drooped while her consciousness melted away.
She blinked, sensing something amiss. The primary moon had traveled slightly across the horizon. A disturbance fluttered the branches benea
th her.
“Elam!” She heard Syf calling to her.
“What is it?”
“A, uhm. Oh, dear.” They scanned over their communication device, barely addressing the tree they spoke to. “A most pressing matter needs your attention. Please come down immediately.”
With a grumble, Nara slid down the pebbled carapace of the trunk, bouncing back and forth between branches until she reached a manageable height. She then leaped out of the leaves and stomped to a landing in front of Syf, glaring at them expectantly.
Their gaze never left their screen, busy fingers dancing over the interface. “It seems like your human friend is in trouble.”
##9.1##
Her fist slammed the window control, revealing the void of the empty cell inside. She scanned over every detail and crevice, the open door of the bathroom. There was no life here. Her senses did not deceive.
“Guard!” Her incensed bark echoed down the corridor.
Upon her summons, a lone soldier jogged to her, eyes widened with alarm. “Yes, Savant?”
“Where is the prisoner?” She scowled, her lips curling over a fang. “And why was I not informed of their removal?”
Befuddled by the display of anger, the guard scrolled through their data reports. “As far as I can tell, they were released by authorized personnel.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Authorized by whom?”
“I don’t…” —their voice trailed off as they searched through the report— “have information on the signature.”
Funny that. She folded her arms. “I will repeat myself. Why. Was I not. Informed?”
“I am sorry, Savant. I am just as perplexed.” The screen multiplied in shining plates of light, illuminating their perplexed expression as they pawed through multiple levels of security. “There are no details in the report.”
“Get me someone who was on duty last night.”
“Right away, Savant.” The guard bowed and scurried off with a hand pressed to an ear, their voice disappearing as they spoke with their superior officers.
He didn’t break out. Someone let him out. She paused in front of the main computer to check its status, finding nothing broken, not a single program open. There are only a few suspects I know of, and only one of them won’t tell me.
After several laps pacing around the cell, the guard returned to her with a companion just as mystified as they were. “Apologies for the delay, Savant.”
Her eyes snapped to the newcomer, who took a graceful step back after feeling the heat of her irritation. “What happened?”
“I was headed over to investigate some fluctuations in the security in this quadrant.” They pointed off to the distance. “I was going to issue another warning to the resident about breaking into security when I saw someone escorting them from the docking bay.”
“Someone?” She tapped a foot expectantly.
“It was raining outside, and they had their hood up.” They shrugged. “That was when I got the status change of an authorized transport, so I didn’t see the need to inquire further.”
Of course not. Jailbreaks don’t happen here. Nara pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled deeply. “Summon a Council chamber in the operations deck. I am issuing an emergency meeting.”
“Yes, Savant. Follow me.” They bowed and led her through the compound, escorting her up a series of metal railed stairwells. Curious eyes traveled from their stations as they traveled, a whisper of intrigue following Nara’s formidable presence.
Idle screens of status reports illuminated their stroll through the hub of monitoring outposts, the clicking language of feedback accenting their echoing footsteps. They stopped in front of a solitary steel door, and the guard tapped a key into the panel, prompting a refrain of cycling locks. They pulled the massive barrier open, revealing a dark featureless room.
Detecting the motion of the two figures entering, the chamber clacked alight, revealing sleek walls of grey shielded screens. The sterility of the pristine walls was defaced by a pattern of riveted holes in various rounded shapes, communications ports stamped along the ceiling.
“Here we are, Savant.” The guard waved her forward.
“Secure these channels and watch for potential listeners.” A pedestal raised from the floor, offering Nara a shining control box of digital meters and buttons. She ran her finger down the length of a gradated bar, her caress darkening the ambience to a dull aqua hue. “I want a private conversation.”
“As you wish.” The guard bowed and left, the hiss of hydraulics following as the door sealed her inside.
The room warped in dull tones as the council chambers manifested. The members slowly filed in with questioning murmurs. She watched patiently for the conversation to dull, her eyes focused on the heads in attendance. When the cacophony began to bubble into a restless clamor, she let herself be known.
“Councilors.” Her image flickered into their view on the main screen overlooking the arena, her severity radiating beyond the screen.
“What is the meaning of this?” Councilor Torel was the first to speak, broadcasting their displeasure with a scornful glare.
Who will reveal their intent first? Them, or me? She raised her head to address the question. “It has been thirty-seven days since I have arrived back on Homeworld. What has been done in regard to resolving the Separatist conflict?”
“As we have repeatedly informed you, we are still discussing your voice in this matter.” Torel leaned into the podium, raising a finger of warning. “And your brash persistence is impacting our decision.”
“And what, exactly, is there left to consider?”
“Your motivation and your allegiances, especially when a GaPFed citizen has been allowed to enter our territory.” Spots of light circled the bottom of the orator’s pit. Beams shot up from each scintillating point, the collection knitting into a screen. The councilors’ curiosity amplified in hushed tones as the Licensing Profile of Garrett Galavantier manifested, his personal information and his image displayed for judgment, sealed with GaPFed’s digital stamp.
Nara threw a dismissive shrug, raising a questioning palm. “What of it?”
“While their citizenship status is under question, harboring a fugitive is certainly not in our best interests, especially from a power that has previously threatened us.” Torel jabbed a finger at the podium. “And apparently, the human you brought is unaccounted for.”
Really, now? Her arms tightened across her chest. The sweet taste of blood grazed her tongue as she clamped down on the side of her cheek, restraining her temper. She straightened her back and drew a cleansing breath. “This is not the matter I wish to discuss. If you are so concerned about GaPFed, why are we not discussing their potential arrival?”
“We have no proof that they have any interest in us again. Only speculation, which is not grounds for action.”
“Actually…” a voice from the Present interjected. All eyes turned to the figure who stood.
“Warlord Kestra.” Torel frowned as they eyed the figure. “How interesting that you have finally decided to accept your invitation to the World Council.”
Kestra ignored the snide remark. “We have been monitoring communications that have been passing through the planet. They seem to be reaching somewhere into GaPFed space from several locations planetside.”
“They are interested, all right,” Nara added. “You have established your presence in space, brandishing a substantially-sized fleet. Sooner or later, they will turn up with another armada.”
“And if that day comes, we shall deal with it,” the councilor dismissed. “We dealt with them then, and we will deal with it now.”
Her ire strained against her will. She slammed a fist against the panel, her voice quaking as she uttered her refute. “I dealt with them then. And I assure you, my judgment will not be the same.”
“Enough.” The councilor’s voice boomed across the chamber, and the voices of the audience silenced. All eyes watched her, waiting for her
to break. To show her inability to represent her faction, buried beneath the indomitable structures of tradition.
“This is your final warning.” Her voice was steady, chilled by the sheer force of her will. “They are coming, and you have no time to decide what you wish to do.”
Torel cleared their throat. “Is that all, Savant?”
“Fine. I see I have your answer.” She flicked off the channel, and the meeting room snapped back into darkness.
It was not unexpected to face this much resistance. Complacency was an infection. And why would anyone want to act? A full-scale war resulting in bloodshed had not happened in centuries. They could resolve their own conflicts with chatter, and the outside galaxy hadn’t dared to cross them after the first incident with GaPFed. War was an automation, requiring little effort to keep them safe.
“Elam.” Syf poked their through a separate communications channel. “I’ve located them.”
The glint of a menu screen popped into her view. A rotating globe whirled around, focusing on a remote location isolated from the nearest authorities of both sides of the planet. She panned into the satellite view with the swipe of a finger, revealing a featureless patch of nature where the coordinates strobed.
“Thank you, Syf. I fear I may need more of your expertise.”
“Always a pleasure to assist.” The projection bowed and flickered off.
I am done. No more of this. Her fingers twitched in a flurry of strokes, a new channel of communication opening before her. The carefree image of Jav’ril stood before her, their uplifting smile a beacon of geniality.
“Do you wish to speak to me, Savant?”
“I will ask you one more time.” She analyzed their every move, wary of the latency between their face and the projection. Nothing came to her, no malice, no deceit, not even a shred of concealment. “Can I trust you?”
They gave her a nod of affirmation. “Of course.” No hesitation.