Open Hangar

Emergency claxons blare loudly as Waheeda and Syreeta climb into Yushamin Units Aleph and Beh. Waheeda, clad in her skintight, bladed pilot suit, slices her way through the thin membrane on top of Aleph’s head and slides into the warm fluid inside the machine’s cockpit. She closes her eyes, and does her best to begin her meditation and enter into a state where she can see through the statue’s eyes as her own. It takes a few seconds, but she gets there. With every mission, it gets slightly easier.

“Unit Aleph, are you ready?”

“Roger, command.”

“Unit Beh, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“The mission will begin as planned. Step into the launch zones.”

The two Yushamin stand with their backs to the wall of the hangar, when a series of clamps reach out and grab on the statues’ arms, legs, and wings. With explosive force, they are sent upwards to the surface, and further up into the sky and into the waiting grasp of a SABBI airship’s hanging cables.

“SABBI Command Airship Miriai, report.”

“Miriai here, we have the packages. On route to the battle zone.”

“Alepha and Beh, Miriai is in charge of this mission, treat their orders like our own. Over and out.”

The Miriai flies underneath Al’Ahdath Mosul, and swings into a north-eastern trajectory, sending the Yushamin through the tops of some pine-like trees. Obviously, there is no damage, but Aleph (with Waheeda’s mind) is still a bit annoyed. Hey, watch the merchandise.

After a short flight, they come upon the target, a massive feline-like beast. “We’ve identified this as an Uthra, as you’ve been briefed. The weakness appears to be on the back of the skull, so we’re dropping both of you directly on it. We’re dropping on the count of 3, Hayyi Rabbi guide you. 1, 2, 3!”

The clamps holding the Yushamin split open, and the two are within freefall. Beh calls out to Aleph as it pulls out its knife, “I’ll land on the back and go for the neck. You land in front and distract it.” Aleph calls back out in the affirmative, and twists its massive body to change its trajectory.

With a massive crash, the trees that Aleph lands on in front of the Uthra crumple into splinters. The beast reels back in shock, before letting out a splitting roar and raising its cockles. It is at this point that Aleph deeply regrets their choice of being the bait.

Yushamin are large, but this monstrosity was on a different level. Aleph stares down the beast, throwing its melee weapon from hand to hand, before the creature raises its cackles and unleashes a horrifying, disgusting roar. Aleph can only instinctively flinch, and collapse under the creature’s massive weight as it leaps forward and holds the living statue under its forelegs, mauling it with its forearms.

“Beh! Having a bit of a problem here!” Aleph exclaims as it struggles to protect its body from the claws. “I wasn’t expecting it to jump!”

“I understand,” Beh says in a monotone as it leaps onto the creature’s back and crawls along its spine. It bares its knife, and jams it into the back of the creature’s neck, doing little to slow its massive claws digging into Aleph’s armor.

“Hurry up and dig it out, already!” “I understand.”

Beh carves at the neck until it finds its core, a smooth, spherical stone connected to the beast’s body by a number of tendrils. Beh methodically cuts each tendril one by one as per usual, until it stops for some reason. “Yo, Beh, you good? Syreeta?”

The Beh’s claws dig into the stone, and begin scratching at it, as if trying to split it open. Scratch, tear, rip, until the core somehow split cleanly in half, revealing its inside, a geode crystal display of bright amethyst and emerald-like crystals. For a split second, Beh says, “It’s beau-” before the crystals erupt out of the core in a single massive spike, and puncture deep into the Yushamin’s chest.

Aleph and Waheeda watched, first with confusion and then with fear, as Beh’s mouth opened up. Not that mouth, not the humanoid one. The bottom of its chin separates and splits the Yushamin’s skull like a crocodile’s, revealing two long lines of sharp teeth. Two gems on the side of Beh’s head spin around to reveal their pupils, which focus on the core in front of them. Its jaw opens wide, and it bites into the core.

Aleph screams over the comms. “SYREETA! WHAT THE-”

The Miriai interrupts. “THE HELL?!”

Beh rips the core off of the crystal, and swallows it in one bite. Its true eyes manic, green and purple drool dripping out of its skill, the Yushamin digs into the monster’s dead body with a voracious hunger unseen by living creatures. “SYREETA, STOP! I’M STILL STUCK UNDER THIS THING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

But it still tears chunks of the Uthra and shoves them into its mouth, until in its hunger it bites on one of its hands before it leaves its mouth. It pauses momentarily as it pulls away its severed wrist, but with a renewed vigor, it eats the rest of that arm, and then the other one, too. The Miriai chimes in over comms.

“Aleph! We’re coming to get you, grab onto the clamp!”

“But what about Syreeta?!”

“Leave it! The Yushamin’s chargon levels are off the hook, Syreeta’s almost certainly died of old age!”

Waheeda can hardly believe what she’s hearing, so badly that she momentarily disconnects from the consciousness of Aleph. Knowing, however, that that’s a death sentence, she tries her damndest to reconnect fast enough to grab onto the Miriai’s clamp before losing control again. From inside the Yushamin’s skull, she can feel the entire statue jostle and rise, and she takes the opportunity to crawl out the top.

As the airship flies away, she looks down at the Beh bleeding out on the monster’s corpse. She didn’t even know that Yushamin had blood.

—

1 WEEK LATER

Rami and Syreeta walked into the briefing room, him taking his usual spot at the lectern, while Syreeta sat down next to Waheeda. Tears filled Waheeda’s eyes as her arms began to tremble.

Wolfgang wasn’t kidding about the smell. It’s a strong, but not unpleasant, combination of dust, lotion, and WD-40. The entire room is filled with massive computer racks, all lit up and spinning to accomplish some unclear purpose as light comes in from the massive windows stretching along each wall. I quietly attempt to make myself known to whoever may be dwelling between the machinery. A dense, gravelly sound comes from the side of the room facing the setting sun.

“Yes, here.”

I walk down the rows, trying to find the source of the voice, and just find more and more tubes stretching from ceiling to floor, until I reach the window and see what the tubes are attached to. A man, or at least something that looks like a man, is shriveled and decrepit, sitting in what can only be described as a throne made of machinery looking out the window. I’ve never seen a living person who looked this old. I attempt to greet this person and introduce myself, but…

“I don’t care. I’m Dr. Ishikawa, and that’s my baby out there.”

I look out the window, and my jaw hits the floor. My god… that can’t be a Lanzer… can it?

“Lanzer?! Pah! You insult me,” the gravel sounds flow out from next to me. “Lanzers are toys for children. They are afraid to use chargon to its full potential. Watch.”

The machine outside must have risen from the ground in a similar fashion to the jet, as I certainly never saw it there before. It was absolutely gigantic, over twice the size of any Lanzer I’ve ever seen. It was burnt orange yellow, and had metal wires stretching from her wrists and into the ground.

A voice suddenly comes out from somewhere in the room, and it belongs to Wolfgang. “Chagger Wasp W coming in. How are you guys?”

Another voice, this one from Philippe. “We’re already here, and so are the Tyflo.”

“Roger. Chagger W, injecting!”

Wolfgang flies directly at the crouching robot in front of him, and seems to have no intention of slowing down. Two small doors open up on the machine’s back, and the wasp machine suddenly stops on a dime and jams its head into the upper hole, and jams its “stinger” into the lower one. Liquid chargon sprays out the spaces in the imperfect docking as the wasp machine injects its fuel. Once the abdomen appears to be empty, it pops off and flies away without its head.

“3 reactors activated, ready to launch! Chagger Force is ready to go!”

I step back in shock as two giant wings flip out of its back, and dust erupts in a circle around the machine as the ground rumbles. Ishikawa raises his thin hand to the window, and whispers to himself, “My baby…”

The robot wrenches itself up, struggling against the wires holding it to the ground. The wings then split open, revealing liquid chargon webbing stretching between the wings and crackling like electricity. I can feel the air crackle with energy even from here. I don’t know if… whatever this thing is has muscles, but if it does, it’s clearly straining them with all it has, its arms shaking and twisting as it pulls for freedom. Is it… is it supposed to be doing this?

“Just watch…”

Suddenly, the metal wires holding it down pop and rip, the concrete holding it in crumbling and cracking. And a painful echo, it breaks free, its arms flexing as it rises to its full power. Words filled with strength and righteous anger fill my brain, almost making me cower in fear.

“Chagger Force is Free!!!”

Almost on queue, another horrible monster appears, some manner of naked mole rat creature standing almost as tall as Chagger Force erupts from the ground behind the wall surrounding the complex. It almost effortlessly steps over it and erupts a hideous, slimy scream from behind its massive foreteeth. What the absolute hell is THAT?!

“The tyflopontika. Horrible creatures, disgusting. Must be killed before they kill us,” Ishikawa attempts to explain, even though it’s all bouncing off the top of my skull and I stare at whatever is happening. Chagger Force erupts with an unbelievable explosion of speed at the monster, colliding with it and giving it a very clean German suplex. You’d think a fleshy beast with that much weight would collapse into a meaty mess, but instead it bounces into a skid, back on its feet immediately. Almost like a flash, the horrible monster leaps forward and clamps its massive incisors around Chagger Force’s torso.

“Crap! Newblood, if you can hear this, launch our blade! Quickly!”

I snap out of my stupor, and look around confused. What?

“The button with the picture of the axe on it!”

I quickly leap into action and begin looking around for some button with an axe on it. Where? Where’s the buttons? Wolfgang’s voice helpfully points me in the right direction.

“Row 3, about halfway down. Can’t miss it.”

Thanks, Wolfgang. I run my way down there, and slam my fist onto the button. After running back to the window, I arrive just in time to see another door open up, and a massive axe springs up just in grabbing distance of Chagger Force. With one smooth motion, the gigantic machine grabs the hilt, and swings the blade straight through the nude beast’s neck. With a disgusting spray of red, green, and purple blood, the monster’s body separates from its head and collapses to the ground, followed by its jaw going slack and its head separating from Chagger Force’s torso. And then with a strong force of conviction, the robot’s foot goes clear through the monster’s skull, splattering ichor in every direction. I struggle to hold in the contents of my stomach as I witness this display, and Dr. Ishikawa side-eyes me.

“Wimp.”

If that’s what’s waiting for me outside of these walls, then I’ll probably be safer in here.

Ahmad was always disappointed that the elevator didn’t have music. Elevators are supposed to have music, right? Cute, inoffensive songs that go in and out of your head while you’re not paying attention. Slipping through your mind while you assume it was always supposed to. He always appreciated that.

“Hey, computer?”

As the elevator the teen boy was riding slid ever downward, the computer that tracked everything gave a slight “beep” to acknowledge him.

“Can I get a little tune?”

“Invalid command.”

“Maybe ‘Spanish Flea’ by Herb Alpert.”

“Invalid command.”

“But not their version, a version with the lyrics. I always liked the lyrics.”

“Invalid command.”

“Gosh, you’re no fun. It goes like, ‘There was a little Spanish flea, a record star he thought he’d be,’ you know the rest, right?”

“Invalid command. Now arriving at [REDACTED BY SABBI]”

“Wow, they even redact the announcements. Oh well, open up please.”

The standard laser light show flashes through the inside of the elevator, and the computer claims, “One occupant detected. Provide identification.”

Ahmad playfully gives a show of patting his pockets and trying to find his ID lanyard before shrugging. “Oops, guess I forgot it in my other pants.”

A click. A whir. Another click. A few beeps that nobody has ever heard that computer make before. And then, suddenly,

“Khamala Habib confirmed.”

The teen snaps his fingers as he leaves the elevator, and makes a clicking sound with his mouth. “Thanks, baby doll. Stay sexy.”

“Invalid command.”

Ahmad had arrived on a section of the Library that a very small select few knows exists, and even fewer have clearance for. It is primarily an empty space which was once shaped like a massive egg, but now has been rebuilt and repurposed. Its sole use is to now hold the glass dome that contains what Ahmad only knows is referred to as the PCB, and must be eliminated for the good of the true inheritors of the planet. He, however, is interrupted by a loud gunshot.

Ahmad reaches around to his back, and feels the burning hole in the back of his shirt, and then sticks a finger into the new hole where his spine would be. He then checks his front to see if there’s an exit wound. Nope, the bullet’s still in there. “Well, now, that’s just rude.” He turns around to face his attacker and sees Rami in a cleansuit, holding a pistol pointed at him. “You’re not taking another step closer to that dome.”

“Rami, my man! My guy! You know I’d love to play those little adult games you like to play, but unfortunately I-”

Another gunshot, this time in Ahmad’s chest. The bullet slips past where his sternum would be and cleanly wedges somewhere where a lung would be expected.

The teen’s look of understanding, like most of his expressions, carries a bit of irony behind it, but this time it also carries a small hint of anger. “Yeah, I get it, okay? You’re angry that I seduced Waheeda when you had a thing for her. She’s way too young for you, but you know, feelings are feelings, right? So how about you quit wasting my time with those bullets.”

Rami’s bloated figure walks towards Ahmad, unafraid. “The bullets are laced with weaponized chargon. You’ll be dead soon.”

“No, they aren’t,” Ahmad replied with zero hesitation. “I know you ran out of weaponized chargon with Ptahil. Even if you brought in every Lanzer in the solar system and had them fart on me simultaneously, it wouldn’t stop me.”

Walking backwards with his eyes still on his former handler, he explains, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my genetic coding is telling me to let whatever’s in this glass dome out. Toodles!”

Rami’s mind raced. He had to find a way to stall him for a little longer, no matter what. “Wait, you don’t even know? You’re just going off instinct?”

“Heh, yeah! Duh, same as you, same as everyone. We all work our asses off to stay alive. It’s all to eat healthy food, sleep in a safe space, meet a good mate.” He then smirks. “Although in your case, that last one has some unique caveats.”

Another gunshot.

“Okay, okay, I’m done with the age difference jokes. Look, my point is that it doesn’t matter why I know that breaking your little glass dome is better for the planet. I just do. I’m sure you think it sucks for your little dead-end species, but it’s better for everyone else. Just lay back and let it happen.”

Rami continues to follow the boy. “But how do you know? What if what’s in there spells the end for you, too?”

Ahmad squints. “You’re funny. You think you can trick me with words. Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s in there.”

The adult sighs. This might be the only way to stop him. “Computer. Disable outer film.”

A loud beep cuts through the stale, empty air, followed by a curt “Confirmed.”

The glass dome’s glossy exterior shimmers and disappears, showing its contents. A single vaguely humanoid figure, glowing bright green with a purple interior. With the film gone, the entire room seems to fill with a burning radiation, and the walls glow bright with prismatic paint and etchings, filling the space with a blinding light.

“There it is. The Primordial Chargon Being. The origin of all life on our planet. And now that the film is gone, I can’t step any closer without throwing years of my life away, even in this cleansuit. Have at it.”

Ahmad could only look with astonishment. “Adam…” The figure seems afraid, almost cowering from him. It’s impossible to view any sort of emotion on the figure, but it definitely is afraid. The teen presses his hands against the glass, and begins to pound on it, weaker and weaker as his energy is drained away. He is rightfully confused, a simple manmade structure should crumple under the strength of any Uthra. “But…” He slides to the ground, tired.

The teen lifts his shirt, and sees his torso liquidizing. If one were to squint, they would likely see the squirming mass carrying his consciousness wither and die as they turn into puddles of waste chargon. With every death, Ahmad can feel it becoming harder to think, to focus, to understand what’s going on around him.

“We extracted the weaponized chargon from Aleph’s blood. We can rebuild everything, no matter how many of you keep coming. Mankind cannot, will not let you win.”

The dying Uthra could only chuckle as he coughed up what was blood to him. “Yeah, but I know how you are. Even if we give up, you can’t keep sleeping dogs lie. You’re sitting on a ticking time bomb… and you know it.”

His eyes close and open slowly, his breaths slow.

“One more thing, though… Do me a favor… Tell Waheeda… I really did want to try her cookies.”

“Could you hand me the CH.Welder?”

I looked down at the hairy hand reaching out from underneath the truck with a bit of confusion, and then to the wide array of tools laid out on a greasy towel on the ground.

“Uh, yeah, sure… The CH.Welder… It’s…”

“About 25 centimeter long curved pipe with the cylinder on the bottom. Covered in a novel’s worth of warning labels.”

Ah. Of course. What else could it have been? I lean over and pick up the-

“Nah, the other one. Easy mistake to make.”

“...Right.”

Last week I was moved into a cell in the main holding building. It’s not really as bad as it sounds, since they had all of the bars removed and placed with a normal wall and a door that locked from the inside. It’s honestly way better than the shack I used to live in on the outskirts of the Solna LBZ, at least this place keeps heat reasonably well. Doc even recommended that I talk to some guys who love to build cottages, but I felt weird asking for favors already. After all, they’ve already got me working with Wolfgang because I apparently know which way to turn a socket wrench.

As I hand the device, I look down under the truck at my… manager? Co-worker? I still haven’t figured out how exactly this was supposed to work. He’s flat on his back, most of his face covered in a heavy-duty chargon mask, in case a gasket pops and he gets a face full of green and purple gas, but his giant salt-and-pepper beard sticks out from the bottom.

“Hey, should I be wearing one of those masks?”

“Nah, you’re probably fine. Just stay out of the way in case something pops.”

Cool. Glad to be useful.

As the short, wide Warden tinkers on the chargon drive of the truck, I absent-mindedly wander around the space. It’s not super clear if this massive garage existed before the revolution, because it’s clearly designed to service a giant complex with a fleet of vehicles, but for whatever reason, the only truck here was the one being worked on. There were also only a small handful of car lifts. What, exactly, was the point of this place?

I figure I might as well make my question known out loud in a way that Wolfgang might hear it. It takes long enough for him to answer that I almost repeat the question.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it? I mean, if this is my new job, it seems like something I should worry about. Where are all the other trucks?

“I’m telling you not to worry about it because you don’t need to worry about it.”

For a second, I worry to myself that the Warden had already figured out my game. Grab a truck while he’s not looking, and hoof it to the wall surrounding this place to get the hell out. Don’t ask me how I’m planning on getting past the wall since I didn’t see any gates, I’ve always been good at thinking on my feet. Usually.

The Warden slides out from under the truck, the wheels on his sliding board making clanking sounds on the seams of the concrete.

“We have trucks. Lots of ‘em. But the thing about tools is that people like to use them, because that’s what they’re for. And if they want to keep using them, that’s fine too. There’s vehicles that have been borrowed for years, and I honestly don’t even know what happened to the guys who borrowed them. And if they need repairing, then they’ll wind up back here.”

It’s obvious that I’ve been on the outside for too long.

“Yeah. But you’ll figure it out. Just forget about stuff like pers-”

A loud klaxon suddenly starts blaring, the sound echoing off of the distant walls of the garage’s massive interior. What the hell…? Wolfgang clambers up to his impressive 1 and a half meters and speedily trundles over to a nearby intercom.

“What’s the emergency?”

He listens intensely, his face grimacing with each passing word from the other speaker. He looks around awkwardly, and makes quick eye contact with me.

“Okay, look, I got the newblood here. Fine, yeah. I’ll be out in a jiff.” He smashes a button on the intercom to end communication, and turns to walk towards me.

“Stand back, you’re about to get a hell of a show.” He then places his calloused hand on my arm, and points towards a door near the bathrooms that says Managers only.

“Take that elevator and head to the top floor, and mind the ‘old person’ smell. Whatever you do, don’t leave. I promise it’s the safest place on the continent right now.”

I’m clearly puzzled as the ground begins to rumble, and the center of the floor begins to slide open like a concrete grocery store front door. On a rising platform sits… a jet? But instead of being a sleek machine designed to dogfight, it’s built like a bulbous insectoid semi truck with wings and a massive translucent chargon battery for an abdomen. I’ve never seen a battery that big, and Wolfgang marches straight towards it. There’s no way in hell he’s actually going to get IN that thing, is he?!”

“Elevator! Now!”

My legs instinctively, obediently carry me towards the doorway opposite the room as the Warden climbs into the machine, and the strange device emits the telltale green and purple of a chargon engine’s exhaust. Crap, crapcrapcrap gotta get out of this room immediately! I slam the “up” button on the inside of the elevator, and watch the insectoid apparatus slowly take off from its launch bay. A woman’s voice comes over the elevator’s speakers, and speaks with a calm voice.

“Top floor: Dr. Ishikawa’s office.”

Hope you understand, we won’t go as planned

Hold me while you can, hold me while you can

I’ll still be your friend, you’ll come back again

Hold me while you can, hold me while you can

Nomfundo was always astonished by Nobubele’s ability to sleep anywhere. The trousers of her uniform were certainly not comfortable, to say nothing about the loud jets on the aircraft flying them north to the BIUST Launch Base Zone. Siyanqoba aircraft heading into and out of Kwazulu airspace needed to fly at supersonic speeds and without Lanzer backup to dodge orbital strikes, which meant that the passengers typically weren’t allowed to hear much of anything without going deaf. Must be nice to turn off your ears, the ace thought to herself as she looked down at the cat twitching in her lap.

The ship’s pilot turned around to give a hand signal meant to indicate that they were now closing in on the BIUST LBZ, and were now safe to slow down. Kpt. Dimba gave a signal back to approve the maneuver, and scratched the base of Bel’s tail to wake her up. She did so, stretching out her back and front legs while yawning widely. Dimba couldn’t help but mouth the words “Big stretch” as she watched, and Bel tapped her ears with her front paws to indicate the red bases, showing that she still couldn’t hear. Nomfundo nodded and removed her ear protection as the supersonic cargo aircraft slowed to a reasonable speed. Bel flicked her ears, the red bases flicking to green and then growing dim.

She didn’t want to tell her girlfriend about the song that had come to her while she was sleeping.

Who could’ve thought? It’s not black or white

Now every time that I tug, you bite

Ever I call, will you spend the night?

Can’t name this “love” if I’m not that nice

—

Captain Righteous Indignation of the Catena Brigitte stood at attention on the bridge of his ship. He always had the strange policy aboard all of his ships that if you were going to work on his bridge, then you had to work standing up. This also applies to guests, such as First Lieutenant Elysian Truth, leader of the newly formed Luminary Squadron, who was watching in rapt attention at the front screen displaying what’s in front of the ship.

A rocket laden with processed chargon had just launched from the Launch Base Zone in what was once known as Botswana and was growing close to entering the outer atmosphere where the Catena Brigitte was parked, which would normally be unnoteworthy if it weren’t for the fact that it was almost 2 days behind schedule. The BIUST LBZ was designed to be completely autonomous and worked at a fixed schedule, and there were no reports of breakdown or issue. Something was clearly wrong, and it’s up to the Catena Brigitte to figure out what.

“Target approaching on expected vectors,” a helmsperson proclaimed. “No deviation. Wait…” She squints. “Mild deviation, within expected parameters.”

Lt. Truth didn’t like that. While everyone here was old enough to remember the disaster at Colonyβ, they were the only one who had lived through it. Captain Indignation squinted at the report. “Keep an eye on that. Determine the amount of deviation and what could be causing it.”

You deserve someone new

If I can’t call you, I won’t shake it

Even though you should leave me for good

Elysian whipped their head around in confusion. What the hell was that? It was like a song that echoed through their chest and up to their head, but judging from the lack of reaction among the bridge crew, they were the only one among them who had heard it. It sounded like…

“Something’s wrong,” Truth exclaimed. “Scramble the fighters. Now.”

The captain looked confused to the Lieutenant, but they were already gone before he could explain that the deviation was incredibly common for processed rockets. “Weird kid…”

“Wait! No, it’s deviating more. Something’s changing its trajectory,” the same helmsperson from before announced. The display in front of them zoomed in to the tip of the rocket. “It has extra vernier thrusters!”

—

She was only half right. It wasn’t simple verniers attached to the rocket, but a brand new Siyanqoba Lanzer hanging off the side of its nose cone, angled in just such a way to hide from the Castena Brigitte’s sight. They had given it the very simple name of “Space Lanzer,” and this was its inaugural mission, even if it was still within the atmosphere. Earthlings had never built a Lanzer capable of operating above 15 kilometers, and Kpt. Dimba wishes that she could see the looks on their faces when they see her new machine, almost more rocket thrusters than Lanzer.

“Nomfundo,” Bel pipes up from the Bastet clinging to the Space Lanzer’s back. “Looks like they saw through our plan somehow. Look.”

Sure enough, a respectably-sized squadron of Lunarian Lanzers began pouring out of the ship, at least 10 of them, painted pitch black. That would be a problem if they were actually in space, and they weren’t highlighted by the dim blue air .

“Huh, look at that,” Nomfundo said in a playfully deadpan manner. “Guess they ran out of O.R.B.s.”

“Yeah, and they’re not like ours. Looks like they managed to build more of our boyish friend’s Lanzer. We could probably take two or three of them on, but not all of them. Especially before we get the hang of this low gravity situation.” Bel was almost shockingly serious, with none of her usual sing-songiness in her voice. It was a little disconcerting to Kpt. Dimba. This was serious.

“No problem,” she responded through the radio back, “We just fast-track part two of the plan.”

One of the handles that the Space Lanzer was hanging onto twisted under the machine’s command, and popped off to reveal a hatch underneath with an enormous mechanical lever. Dimba guided the Lanzer’s hand back to it, and yanked it down.

Immediately, the cone of the rocket split wide open like a blooming flower, revealing a large chargon-powered energy device, a blown-up version of the weapon that they had lifted from the destroyed Type-Artemis. It wasn’t pointed directly at their target, not quite yet, but it fired regardless, firing burning plasma in a wide arc across the bow of the Catenna Brigitte, melting sections of its hull and venting burning oxygen and fuel into the atmosphere. The swarm of Artemis-likes seemed none too happy at this development, so Dimba activated the third part of their plan and leapt off of the rocket, letting gravity slow the Lanzer’s ascent compared to its ride.

“Radio connection to the rocket confirmed,” Bel reported from the shell-like machine attached to the Space Lanzer’s back. “Activating the Bloom.”

The panels that covered every meter of the rocket split open, causing even more Lanzer-sized plasma rifles to point upwards in every direction and fire in constant but unpredictable bursts, almost lighting the thin air on fire. The Siyanqoba ace smiled underneath her atmosphere helmet as she watched most of the mass-produced Lanzers explode in a shower of molten chargon. It soon turned to shock, however, as she watched a silverish-white Lanzer dodge every blast with little effort, a pair of emerald/amethyst wings shining behind two large structures on its back. It was closing in on them very, very quickly.

“SFEBHE!"

—

Now that Lt. Truth knew what the Type-Selene was doing to them, it was impossible to ignore. Their heart was beating at triple speed. Every breath was manual and deep. Even their intestines seemed to squirm in labor. It would make them sick if they didn’t know that they were designed from the ground up to be able to handle the chargon being pumped through their body, and the amount of power being output through their spine back into the Type-Selene.

“The paths of the plasma bolts are now being shown on your display,” Cynthia explained.

From the tips of each plasma rifle pointing out from the rocket, a solid red line drawn on the cockpit’s hud showed where it was safe to fly, and Elysian could see the path through the laser jungle to their target. They punched it as hard as this machine could go.

“I would recommend against rushing in head-long until we know this new machine’s capabilities, Lt. Truth.”

Elysian could feel their hands shaking at the suggestion. “Believe me, I know,” they exclaimed pointedly. Gods, did they know. “But we can’t know what it’s capable of if we don’t force it to act. And I know you’ve got my back, regardless.”

“Understood.”

—

Nobubele rattled against her leather harness in the Bastet’s cockpit as the Space Lanzer juked and jived in defense against the Lunarian’s new Lanzer. The mechanical hands reaching out from the sides of her oversized collar rapidly type at the surrounding keyboards as data floods into her mask, telling her of the situation. “Nomfundo! The ship is going up, I’m sure they got the message, let’s get out of here!”

A visual representation of the Space Lanzer’s current arc shows that they’ve reached the apex and are ready to begin descent, placing them somewhere between the two safe zones of the BIUST and Kwazulu LBZ’s. “We’re going to need to redirect our descent to one of the LBZ’s. BIUST is closer, but Kwazulu has better anti-air defense, it might give us a better shot against the kid’s new toy!”

She switched her view over to the Space Lanzer’s main camera, watching as the Lunarian Lanzer took rapid plasma potshots at them. It looks like the kid learned their lesson, as they were staying a respectable distance away. “Trust me, Bel, I’d love to make that decision, but this kid’s giving me the works. Make a decision and tell me where to go while I try to deal with them!”

Bel internally read through the possible pro’s and con’s of the decisions before her. BIUST will get them safe faster, but there’s also the risk of atmospheric friction weakening the armor. Would it be better if…

Hope you understand we won't go as planned

“What? Bel, bad time to sing!” Nomfundo was right, of course. Bel wasn’t sure why she did that. She tagged the BIUST LBZ with a waypoint and directed the best way to redirect to the Space Lanzer’s main thrusters.

“I flipped the coin! Go!”

—

Both Nomfundo and Elysian would run the next several minutes through their minds many, many times for the rest of their lives. Wondering what they could have done differently. Wondering if they could have stopped the other. Wondering if the future could have turned out differently. But as with all regrets, reliving them only brings pain.

Elysian is the one who acted first. They noticed that the descent redirection took up most of the Space Lanzer’s maneuverability, and launched a head-on attack against Cynthia’s recommendations. Bel had grown antsy and took the next move, flipping off of the Space Lanzer’s back as they had practiced and used the umbilical cable as a swing to bring her around to the pair’s front, just like they had done the last time they had fought Elysian.

But the Lunarian remembered this maneuver and stopped short, before they were within grabbing range. They swung their over-charged, over-sized swords in sweeping arcs against the Bastet, which unfurled its plasma defense array as a shield and deflected them both. The force of the attack was enough to push her back, however, and the Bastet and the Space Lanzer collided and sent them in a momentary spiral. Elysian was confident that they had won, but the thing that had caught them off guard was the hammer throw.

Nomfundo had decided to use the momentum of the spin to use the Bastet as a weapon, swinging Bel’s ship back around within melee range. The bastet’s plasma defense grid focused into a sharp blade, and was aimed directly at the Type-Selene’s head. Elysian probably would have simply blocked or dodged it, but Cynthia realized that they were now in a life-or-death situation and took complete control.

It was ultimately Cynthia that was most to blame for severing the umbilical cable and sending the Bastet free falling down to Earth.

Nomfundo was the first to spot the wreckage. Umbrella trees were flattened and grass was simultaneously burning and regrowing thanks to the puddles of liquid chargon that littered the field. The Bastet was completely shattered open, and the cockpit was split wide open. Once the Space Lanzer landed, she leapt out of the cockpit and ran towards the wreckage, chargon splashing against her boots as she dug through melted metal and sparking wires.

Elysian was second to arrive, and simply hovered in the air as the second reactor deactivated. They popped open the cockpit, and looked down, what they saw causing their stomach to ache even without energy flowing through it.

Nobubele’s black body laid in a purple and green shimmering puddle, strange flowers sprouting and dying around her. Her mask was shattered, and blood was leaking out from underneath as her eyes flickered on and off the screen. Somehow, her body still twitched. Her burnt and mangled collar was several yards away. Nomfundo collapsed to her knees and cradled the dying cat’s body in her arms as tears filled her eyes, and exasperated pleas came from her mouth.

Nobubele would never sing again, and Nomfundo’s heart couldn’t take it. With all the strength in her gut, she let out a guttural scream in anguish before Elysian could take no more, and left.

100 ADA

Waheeda sat quietly next to Syreeta’s hospital bed as she played her violin. Hundreds of things flowed through Waheeda’s mind as she watched. She looks so good. She can play so well. How long has she been playing? Her muscles healed up real nice. She survived? She’s even smaller than I am. How did she survive? I want to hold her hand. “H…hey…”

Syreeta stopped suddenly, and turned to look at her… friend? Comrade? Teammate? She simply stared quietly, waiting for Waheeda to speak. Eventually, she worked up the courage to do so. “So, uh… what was that?”

“What was what?”

“That song. It was really nice.”

“I don’t know.”

She picked her instrument again, and started playing exactly where she had left off. She stared off into the middle distance, as she gave her complete attention and devotion to playing as she always did. Waheeda leaned forward, her hands together, as she simply listened.

—

070 ADA

The Ashurbanipal expedition continued downwards, flights and flights and flights of stairs that seemed to reach down into the depths of the earth, as they dutifully recorded every line of text, every glowing image that was etched into the walls. Mahershala was amazed at all of it, wondering if the text was translatable, if it meant anything, if it was supposed to warn them or direct them to something. But more importantly, he was worried about their air supplies. They had been walking for hours, and although the clean air had slightly diluted the chargon they had introduced, it still didn’t seem totally safe to filter.

Khamala didn’t care, she was still doggedly chasing down what she hoped, what she knew, what she demanded to be at the end of the hallway. And soon, they would all find what was at the end.

Another wall.

But this time, Khamala didn’t break down. Instead, she stroked the seams of the bricks, trying to find some secret way to clear it out. As she dragged the fingers of her safesuit, they illuminated even more text, even more etchings. The chargon that coated her suit was thicker than what was in the air, and the markings were reacting even stronger. Eventually, the entire wall was covered in glowing green runes, which started to pulse ever quicker. They started to flash.

“Kam,” Mahershala cautiously said, “Something’s up. Maybe back up a bit…” His fears grew as the hall began to shake unnaturally. The quaking continued just long enough for the etched wall in front of the team to crumble. Behind it was a door. A metal door. A…

“Is that steel?”

Mahershala couldn’t understand what he was looking at. Everything should have dated before the 35th century BDA, but here, plain as day, a steel door with no handles or levers. Did they get turned around somewhere? Did they stumble into a mining facility? He slowly, cautiously reached forward, and the exact moment his finger touched the door, it flashed green, and slid open.

Inside was a giant, empty, black space. As the chargon-filled air blew in, green etching covered everything, until the entire space had an eerie pulsing glow. It was truly massive, the inside of an impossible egg larger than any building. Colossal statues with wings and halos lined the walls, and in the middle… A dome? There was so much to see. So much to study. The filters would have to do.

—

100 ADA

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you, we were all really worried about you. I was really worried about you.”

“Why?”

The one word response took Waheeda by surprise. Syreeta had been out of the infirmary for a couple of days, and it took Waheeda that long to work up the courage to speak to her again. They had randomly met in the hallway, so she took the opportunity to say something. Anything.

“Well, I mean, it was… kind of my fault. If I had shot earlier, then…”

The short-haired girl stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and Waheeda couldn’t work up the strength to look into her eyes, as she always knew she was usually expected to. Eventually, Syreeta simply said,

“Oh, ok.”

And walked away. Waheeda looked up from the ground, seeing this, and couldn’t bare to hold back anymore.

“And aren’t we friends?!”

Syreeta stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, her trademark sleepy stare meeting Waheeda’s gaze.

“Isn’t it natural to care about your friends?! I’ve had a pit in my stomach the last few weeks! What If I never saw you again?! What if I never told you that…” She stopped herself, and chose a different path to take. “What really happened? Do you remember? How did you survive?”

“I don’t remember.”

“...What?”

“I don’t remember any part of the mission. I got off the elevator; I woke up in the hospital.”

“Amnesia?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know whose fault it was…”

Syreeta then turned and walked away again. Nobody stopped her this time.

—

075 ADA

Mahershala and Khamala Habib stood before the council in charge of SPEC as they laid out their plans. It was obvious to everyone on the council that their years on Earth studying and devising this plan had taken their toll, but it just stood to give them a more dignified look to them.

As they ran through their presentation, showing the Deep Library, the PCB, the translations of the etchings, the Yushamin statues, and the lineup of Uthra, the council grew more and more worried. This is when the couple came to the meat of their plan: The creation of SABBI, dedicated to the protection of this site. From whatever would attack it.

The council could only give their universal support, and whatever funding was required. The Habibs gave their solemn thanks, and started their grim work immediately.

Elysian had been going over a list of things to confront their commanding officers about ever since they arrived back on the moon. Or, at least, as long as they’ve sat in this decontamination chamber, as everyone coming back from a chargon-rich environment is forced to. Where’s Cynthia? Why can I breathe easily on Earth? Why didn’t you try to rescue me? Why-

“Lt. Truth.”

Their concentration was shattered as their mother appeared in front of them, her figure flashing up against the wall of the chamber. It was a perfect illusion, proving that it was a direct feed to the other side of this wall. Elysian did their best to put on a serious face to confront their mother.

“Where is-”

“Shut up.”

The chairwoman’s voice was like a laser drilling through Elysian’s skull. They had been trained their whole life to obey her every word, but this was more important. They forced themself to push onward.

“Where. Is. Lun-”

“You had been ordered to confirm the existence of an earthling secret weapon and target it for bombardment. But you failed. You rushed in and got our most important weapon destroyed.”

Lt. Truth knew they had screwed up. They were the one that had been shot down, after all, but something about the way that Chairwoman Truth said it impressed it. Elysian now knew in their soul that they had royally messed up. But they couldn’t let up, not now.

“Why can I breathe without my mask,” the pilot forced out with the angriest scowl they could muster. They hadn’t been given a rebreather to replace the one they had lost on Earth, so every part of his face was visible. Their commanding officer just stared back, and sighed.

“All the work that we put into you, we somehow failed to give you the ability to put 2 and 2 together to make 4.”

This only made the pilot angrier, proven by how they attempted to smash their first against the false window in front of them, which did little other than make the display flicker.

“QUIT SCREWING WITH ME!”

The councilwoman didn’t care about her offspring’s outburst, however. She simply stood and stared before continuing.

“That chamber is filled with the same level of chargon that Earth’s atmosphere does. Roughly 80% or so of the mixture that feeds through your mask, and 40% of what the Type-Artemis feeds through your body when you’re used as a reactor.”

Elysian grows numb as they instinctively cover their face and step backwards. “M-my.. entire life…”

“Before that. In-utero. Carrying you to term shaved 8 years off of my life and every day you make me regret that decision.”

The pilot collapsed to their knees. The scars on their back ached and itched. “The Type-Artemis…”

“You were designed to pilot it. Designed to be the perfect Lunarian, completely unable to produce chargon. But for some reason, that kills you, so you need to be fed more externally. Conveniently, that means that the Type-Artemis can use your organs as a second reactor to boost its strength without needing to carry extra weight. Or, rather, it could until you destroyed it.”

Elysian Truth now knew why his mother had treated him like a pawn, an object for their entire life. It hurt, sure, but the explanation gave them a small bit of closure, as now they knew that their usefulness to her had come to an end with Type-Artemis’ destruction. It was all the pilot could do to genuflect to the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“Mother. I’m sorry that I’m no longer of use to you. Please make my termination as painless as possible.”

A small compartment on one of the walls slid open, a box designed to transfer small objects in and out of the chamber. It contained a rebreather identical to the one that Elysian had worn their entire life. Truth eyed it, confused.

“The chargon scrubbing sequence will commence in 30 seconds. I suggest you prepare for it. Hopefully, you’ll still be useful.”

—

As Councilwoman Truth led her child down the hallways of Aristarchus Base, Elysian felt the crisp, clean air against their skin and felt at home again. But they had to accept that it was a lie. This clean air and the perfection of being a Lunarian would only kill them. Before too long, they reached an elevator, which led down into the subterranean levels, outside of the clearance of most pilots. The door then opened to a dark hangar, and several spotlights shining on a Lanzer.

It was big, maybe 10% larger than most Lanzers that Lt. Truth was familiar with. But the thing that stood out most to them was how unbelievably similar it looked to the Type-Artemis. Same basic shapes, same color, same head, everything. But every subtle detail showed that it was made from completely new parts, a new generation of the Type-Artemis.

“Behold, the Type-Selene,” Councilwoman Truth demanded. “Every weakness of the Type-Artemis has been shaved away, including the stupidity of its pilot. Whereas the Synth-OSi AI merely recommended against foolish choices, it will now take control away from you when necessary, as it did when you were a toddler.”

Elysian could hardly believe his ears. “Cynthia?! It’s still here?! Cynthia!!” The ground and air shook as the clamps holding the Type-Selene in place opened seemingly out of nowhere, and the machine stepped forward on its own. It grabbed the walkway with its manipulators and opened up its empty cockpit, sending a gust of warm, comforting air. From inside the cockpit, a familiar voice reached the young Truth.

“Hello, Lt. Truth. It is good to see you again.”

Elysian could only burst out in tears at the voice. “Cynthia! I thought you had died! I’m so glad…”

“Yes. The Lunarian military successfully retrieved me after what I was told was a long, difficult fight. I look forward to flying with you again.”

The lieutenant looked back at the councilwoman, unsure if the AI was telling the truth.

“Yes,” the councilwoman assured the young pilot. “We still have a mission for you, a chance to redeem your disgusting performance. And you’ll have plenty of backup, too.”

She raised one fist, and snapped her fingers. The rest of the lights in the hangar lit up to illuminate dozens, maybe even hundreds of more Lanzers bearing the signature look of Lunaria’s engineering. They all looked so similar to the Type-Artemis, but painted a sleek black, and each one of them had their own pilots standing at stiff attention saluting Councilwoman Truth.

“If those damned savages think that they can destroy our Lanzers that easily, then we will be glad to prove them wrong.”

The man standing before me is almost impossibly tall, angular, and suave. I’d almost guess he was a Lunarian were it not for his Mediterranean tan. He’s wearing a pair of orange trousers and a doctor’s coat, writing on a clipboard while an inmate cuts off the last of my cast. My joints are stiff, my arms are covered in dusty hair, and my armpits smell like a crime scene.

“So, how are you feeling? Any lingering pain? Limbs look like the right shape?”

I look down at my arms and legs, and give them a casual turn and twist. Better than being beaten within an inch of my life by money-gangers, but I’ve felt better. Maybe some pain meds would make me feel better?

“Yeah, good luck with that. Philippe made me promise not to prescribe anything that’s habit forming, and my parents taught me never to sleep with someone you like to argue with.”

He slaps the clipboard onto one of my knees, and it takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize that that was a test. After several seconds, I dramatically grab my leg and begin writhing in pain, before realizing that there was no point. Hey, whatever happened to the hippocratic oath?

“Oh, I had my medical license taken away long ago, I don’t have to worry about that. I can give you a lollipop, though.”

I stand up and give him a polite thanks, but no thanks. And it’s with that, that I realize that I have no idea what I’m going to do now.

—

During my stay in the Geneva LBZ Hospital, I was forced to learn a lot about this place, both because people loved to talk to new inmates, and because I was a captive audience.

Geneva Launch Base Zone/Internment Facility used to be exactly what that horrid little Texan described it as: an LBZ designed to process and transport free chargon on the backs of prison labor. By all accounts, it did its job pretty decently, if not for the unbelievably cruel warden and guards. They resented having to be exposed to any more chargon than they had to, already cursed to shorter lives by virtue of being Earthlings, and they took it out on the inmates whenever they could. If you didn’t die from artificial old age, you died from the beatings you took because someone with a baton was having a bad day.

Philippe, Doc, and Wolfgang, the third in their polycule, got it the worst. Depending who you ask, it’s either because of the severity of the treason they committed on the outside, or because the guards just hated to see people under them being happy. They quickly became the unofficial leaders of the inmates, their natural charisma causing others to lean on them for guidance, 3 pillars larger than the smoke stacks outside. Philippe, the largest, could solve any argument, Doc knew more about medicine than anyone on staff, and Wolfgang could build a truck without any tools if he had to.

What happened next is a bit of contention. Most of the nurses claim there was some sort of disaster, some say there was some kind of invasion. Doc and Philippe refused to talk about it, but Wolfgang told me to talk to someone named “Ishikawa” for the real information.

But whatever happened, the three of them saved the day and were hailed as heroes by both the inmates and the guards, and the entire population of the LBZ marched peacefully to the offices. The warden turned over everything to the three of them, who became the new leaders, calling themselves the new Wardens. I guess the capital W means something.

They implemented several new rules:

What you did on the outside no longer matters. (Which is good for me, considering I didn’t do anything)

Each according to their abilities, each according to their needs. (I don’t know how any of the chargon gets processed that way, but I guess they figured it out)

No leaving the compound for any reason, no exceptions. We must be self-sustained. (The only rule I’m not a fan of)

Don’t get me wrong, this place is nice, and the free food ain’t so bad, but this isn’t the place for me. I need to get the hell out of here, and I have a feeling that the third of these boys was the fastest ticket out of here. It was time to report to the garages.

100 ADA

“I don’t know why you’re the one who’s so angry, it was your fault.”

Waheeda looked across the otherwise empty classroom/briefing room to the only other occupant, Taimoor. The teen boy was fuming, looking like his short black hair was about to catch fire. His fist slams down on the desk in front of him with enough force to shatter it, had his arms not been so frail and the table not been made from plastic reinforced on the molecular level. He stood up and spun around in a single awkward motion and pointed at Waheeda. Her gaze stayed on him like a steel girder.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied himself for a moment. Then, after a deep inhale, he screamed. “KOL KHARA!!!”

—

070 ADA

Mahershala Habib raised his high-frequency vibrating saif over his head, and brought it down with a delicate swing, cleaving the absurdly thick vine in twain. He then winked his right eye, causing the transparent map overlaying his vision to zoom in. He spoke out loud into the microphone in his safesuit’s helmet so that his teammates could hear. “This should be near the marketplace. If I were to just…”

He reached an arm out to a thick wall of leaves, and dragged his hand down, grabbing plants as he went. Beneath the vegetation was a brick wall, clearly human-made. A woman’s voice comes over his headphones. “We should check inside, we might find something. If we’re lucky, maybe even a computer that hasn’t completely erod-”

“No,” Mahershala interrupted. “We can’t risk getting turned around. We keep going east.” His teammates wanted to disagree, but knew he was right.

—

100 ADA

Taimoor’s face was contorting in anger, a blood vessel formed on his forehead. “SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! You couldn’t take the damned shot!” Waheeda could easily tell that he was beating himself up over what happened, but if thought that he could pin the blame on HER, then he had another thing coming. With a quiet, furious voice through gritted teeth, she explained, “Because your laser pointer couldn’t stay on a stupid rock. It was just sitting there and you couldn’t keep your Yusha’s hand steady.”

At this point, Taimoor loses it. He kicks aside several desks and marches towards Waheeda, violence clearly on his mind. Waheeda hates fighting, but when it has to happen, she’s prepared. Taimoor’s slightly larger than her, but she knows that he’s a weakling. Just a quick strike to-

“Both of you, shut up and sit down.”

Rami marched into the room while they weren’t looking, and slammed a stack of papers onto the lectern at the front. Taimoor stopped in his place like an invisible rope had wrapped around his neck, and he turned and sat down onto one of the few desks that hadn’t been displaced in his rage.

“First things first, Syreeta’s not dead. Secondly, Waheeda winging it disabled it long enough for a targeted chargon foam missile to burrow into its carapace and put it into stasis. It’s not dead, but it’ll give us time to-

“Syreeta’s still alive?! How?! She took the full brunt of the laser!!” Of course it was Taimoor who had the bravery and tact to interrupt Rami when he was at the lectern, but the massive adult let it slide this time. “The shield did its job,” he explained. “It dispersed most of the beam into the surrounding area. When the shield failed, Unit Beh’s armor protected the cockpit before the beam completed. She’ll likely be able to pilot Beh once it’s repaired.”

—

070 ADA

The coordinates matched up, they were at the entrance to the original Library of Ashurbanipal. Mahershala’s second-in-command ran past him and pushed the rotten, overgrown wooden doors open to the inside. At one point in the past, it seemed to have been turned into a museum, as a front desk was now being used as a nest for canine-like creatures. One of which was an adult, and was growling through split jaws and an extreme amount of saliva at the intruders.

Mahershala whispered quietly and moved forward slowly towards the teammate who had run in. “Khamala… Step backwards, slowly. We don’t know how sharp this thing’s tee-” The loud sound of a laser blast echoes through the ancient site as the beast’s head disintegrated into a burning pile, as well as most of its chest and one of its forelegs. Its offspring bolt up and disappear further into the museum somewhere.

The gruff voice of the team member who had fired the gun simply said, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s loot this place before something else shows up.”

Mahershala didn’t know how necessary that was, but was glad at least that Khamala was ok. “We’re not looting anything,” Khamala explained to her trigger-happy comrade. “If I’m right, there’s something even deeper that the original discoverers never even knew about. Something that could change everything.”

But Mahershala knew exactly what that kind of roughneck responded to. “But if you light up any artifacts, it’s coming out of your paycheck.” He grunted, and obediently holstered his gun. “Don’t blame me if those puppies come back for blood, then.”

—

100 ADA

Waheeda could hardly believe what she heard. Unit Beh’s head disintegrated. She heard Syreeta’s scream, it’ll haunt her nightmares for sure. How could she have survived that? She wanted to ask if they could see her, but then…

“And now, you can’t see her. You’re all under complete lockdown, starting immediately.”

As Rami walks towards the door, Taimoor bolts up. “But what about Yufin-Yufafin?! If it’s in stasis, we need to kill it immediately!”

Rami turns around with a grim conviction in his eyes. “We’ll handle that. You don’t need to know how, but I figure there’s no harm. SABBI has been developing artificial brain plugs for the Yushamin, which we can use to remote control them. You’re still more useful in a fight, for now, but if all we need to do is remove the core of a sitting rock, then we don’t need you. Any questions?”

If anything, this was a relief to Waheeda, as the sooner she didn’t have to fight the better, but she knew what Taimoor was like. This was the only thing he had going for him. If he wasn’t fighting, then…

“No, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed. Report to your quarters, the only places you’re allowed to go besides there will be the mess hall and the restrooms.”

—

070 ADA

It was just a wall. Perhaps at some point, hundreds of years ago, there had been paintings, a mural, some etched writing on it. But time had done what it had always done, changed things. Eroded them. Replaced them with something new. Khamala rubbed her hand along the bricks, hoping for anything. They had come all this way…

Mahershala checked the remaining air in the safesuits. Enough time to explore the rest of the museum and grab some artifacts, but any longer than that and they’d have to rely on the air filters, which were far from perfect even in safer places. They were looking at almost certain chargon exposure. He walked up to the archaeologist and placed his hand on the shoulder of her suit. “I’m sorry, Kam. Maybe we’ll find some clues in what we can bring back.” He turned to the rest of the team, and started giving orders. “Alright, let’s split up and meet back at the front desk in an hour. Grab anything with writing or images on them and put them into stasis blocks.”

“NO!” Khamala yelled, causing everyone to turn to her. “No! It should have been here! It should have been right! Here!” With each angry exclamation, she punctuated it with a slam of her fists onto the blank wall. “My! Life’s! Work! All! For-” With one more slam, she fell through the crumbling wall, into an empty passage. Inside, etchings began to glow green, spreading down the corridor. Mahershala watched this, and then winked his right eye twice. An overlay in his vision showed him how much chargon was in the air, and he watched it flow down the otherwise empty and clean hall.

“It’s reacting to the chargon. It was completely clean… Everybody!” He waves his team inside the passage, who dutifully climb in. “Take pictures of everything! Khamala, you and I are heading deeper in. I think we found something really important.”

You and I are numbers first

And lovers second

Nobubele curled herself up onto the spacer’s sleeping chest, their soft breaths and beating heart calming her into gently purring. Kaptein Nomfundo Dimba, her commanding officer and lover, looked into the living room from the kitchen of the previously-unabandoned building that they were occupying. “We still have some eggs left, gonna fry some up. Also don’t smother them.”

Bel didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d been doing this every day ever since they had captured the unconscious spacer. “Don’t worry,” a soft woman’s voice spoke from the black cat’s collar and explained, “I’m not going near their face.”

Dimba gave an unbelieving smirk, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Everyone knows that

Everyone knows that

The digital eyes on Bel’s protective mask lit up to look at their sleeping prisoner. Upper command had warned them so much of the Abantu Benyanga’s advanced Lanzer that could annihilate entire platoons of GL’s, but she and Dimba had taken them down easily. Maybe the Bastet took them by surprise? Or maybe… Bel stretched out, turning over slightly onto her back. They’re so young. They look like a child…

The spacer’s flight suit was so ornate, but more comfortable to lie on than one would think. The cat couldn’t help but begin kneading the fabric with her paws, feeling it. Way nicer than Nomfundo’s leather uniform. We should figure out what this is made from.

The cat grew so comfortable that she slipped into song, as she was known to do when she was most comfortable and content. It was a little tune that came to her in a dream, about falling for someone when you know it’s all doomed.

Without her noticing, the spacer began to stir, their face contorting until their eyelids revealed two lilac irises that slowly focused on the strange animal on their chest. “Hu…hmm… what…” The digital representation of Bel’s eyes turned to two upended half circles, and the oscilloscope display on her collar lit up. “Hello, there.”

Soon enough one of us hurts

And one is broken

The spacer, startled, began flailing in panic. “Ah! What the hel… Get off me!”

Bel leapt off of their chest immediately, and the prisoner crawled back to claim the corner of the sofa that they had been sleeping on as safe haven. “Where am I? What the hell are you? Are you a torture device?”

Bel, sitting politely on the other end of the sofa, looked at her body and back at the spacer, a green question mark appearing in the middle of her face. “Goodness, I’m not that heavy, am I?”

Kpt. Dimba’s large frame appeared over the two of them, and placed two plates of scrambled eggs onto a coffee table in front of the sofa. “I dunno, I’m beginning to wonder if I should be feeding you these.”

“But they make my coat so silky smooth!”

Everyone says that

Everyone says that

Nomfundo sat down on a lounge chair next to the sofa, and finally noticed that their captive pilot had woken up. “Oh. Hey. You like eggs?”

The spacer’s mind raced, uncertain as to what to say. What language was she speaking? Wait, it was the same language the cat spoke. I think I know this? Remember what they trained you to say when questioned. “I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Elysian Truth, service number XS-988-5532. I refuse to answer any other questions until I’m returned to my people.”

A pair of long, thin metal hands unfolded out of Bel’s collar, and they gently grasped a fork in one of the plates of eggs. Dimba shrugged. “Well, I hope you like scrambled, because it’s the only kind I know how to make.”

She pushed her plate in front of Elysian, and got up to go back into the kitchen. The voice in Bel’s collar spoke up. “Could you get me some pepper, too, please?”

In a way I find it hard to hate

Because I know you’re looking for a chase

Lt. Truth shakily held out a hand to the plate of food in front of them. They were so hungry… How long had it been since they had a bite? Wait. Stop. These are the eggs of the enemy. “N-no. I won’t eat this. It’s poison.”

More question marks appeared on Bel’s face, and she replied, “Doesn’t taste like poison to me.”

Elysian leapt to their feet, backing away towards the open door, pointing at their captors. “That’s because you’re Earthers! Cruel, demented savages who breathe toxic air, drink toxic water, and eat toxic food! I could never-”

The panicking pilot moved to their face to gesture to the mask protecting them from the chargon in the air and feeding them their medicine, which was currently not there. Their gloved hands came into direct contact with their skin, and what little color there was in their face drained away. “H…H-wh…Bu…”

And I like to get caught and then let go

It’s so reliable, so inevitable that

We’ll never be as one

Dimba sat back down with a third plate of eggs, and placed her combat boot-covered feet on the coffee table. Bel grabbed her plate with her metal claws and hopped over to the sofa as her commanding officer explained, “Your mask was broken in your explosion. Shattered, glass or plastic or something everywhere. Your face was kind of cut up but otherwise fine. Whatever that stuff was that insulated the explosion was good stuff”

The black cat with a mouth full of egg spoke up to add on, “You’ve been enjoying good old fashioned chargon-infused Earth air for the better part of a week now. Sorry to surprise you with that.”

Lt. Truth’s breathing grew ragged as a sick newborn as they hyperventilated, their feet pulling them towards the open door as their captors watched with mild interest. “N-no… NO!!” They turned and bolted outside with the greatest speed their weakened legs could give them. Dimba took a shoveled fork full of eggs, and then stood up to follow Elysian out.

“Seems like hyperventilating is the last thing you want to do if you don’t want to breathe in chargon.”

You were my better half, a bad habit

When it was open, when it was all in

The temperate African scenery swam around Elysian Truth’s vision as they looked in every direction for a method of escape. A jeep? A jeep can’t fly. The Type-Artemis’ torso? They would need the rest of it to get anywhere. The jeep will have to do, for now. They stumbled down the deck stairs, shuffling awkwardly towards the vehicle as they did their best to cover their mouth and nose. They couldn’t afford to breathe one more mouthful of the heinous substance. After pulling fruitlessly at the car door handle as their vision faded, the thin spacer turned and ran into the grasslands and almost immediately slipped and fell down a steep incline.

Underneath the shade of an umbrella thorn tree, Elysian caught their breath slowly, deliberately, as they began to more calmly figure out what had happened. The sky was a gentle green that day, with wispy white clouds floating by. Kpt. Dimba’s face similarly floated into view, looking down at them. “You done?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

It didn’t last, but looking back, I’d do it again

Cause everyone loves that feeling

Elysian went to town on the plate of eggs before them, as well as several pieces of toast, two strips of bacon, and 3 Siyanqoba MREs. They noted particularly that they were a fan of the bread they used.

“We got into like 3 more fights with your boys over your mecha, they ended up claiming the head and one of the legs, while we got the other leg and both of the arms. We’ve still got the torso out front, like you saw, but it’s mostly fried. Its computer is straight up missing, too. I’m guessing it jettisoned, but that’s probably a secret that you won’t tell us.” Truth nodded in understanding, but was afraid to ask the obvious question.

“Did they… you know, try to find me?”

Don’t be sad we do this all the time

It’s part of being cruel with our kindness

Nomfundo looked away awkwardly with a bit of tragedy in her eyes, while Bel didn’t try to hide her disgust at the situation, her face turning an angry red. “No, sorry,” Nomfundo tried to ease in, but Bel’s hackles were raised, her back arched and her tail high.

“What the hell!” she exclaimed. “All of our soldiers are told to never leave a comrade behind! I can’t believe they care more about a stupid hunk of metal than its pilot! It’s incorrigible!” But Lt. Truth could only shake their head.

“No, it makes sense. The computer was the actual valuable part, they were probably just fighting over the other pieces so you couldn’t have them.” But the thing that truly hit Elysian’s heart… “The AI in Type-Artemis was… close to me. Closer than my family.”

What I have, your heart is missing

That’s how I like it, I’ll never change it how we’ll

Dimba and Bel shared a look over Elysian’s grieving shoulders. “Well… far be it from us to judge where someone’s heart lies.” This sentence is the kind of confusing brain shock that centers a person.

“Wait, no, not like that. I think? How…”

“It’s silly, right? Who could ever imagine me falling for a human~!”

“I don’t really know what your relationship is,” the lunarian tried to explain, “but it’s probably not like that. It’s gotten me through tough times, even from childhood.”

Nomfundo placed a large hand on the sad enemy pilot’s shoulder. “Well, I’ve got some news that’s good for you and bad for us. We don’t have that Lanzer’s computer, and we’ve been patrolling this area for days looking for it. If it’s anywhere, it’s with your men. So if you want to see your friend again, you’d better head back home and demand it.”

“And you’re just… letting me go?” Elysian is shocked. They’re a prisoner, right?

“You’re just a kid, you don’t know anything. Take our jeep and get out of here.”

The lieutenant squinted, doing their best to keep their poker face straight. If they knew that they were the child of a military leader, or that they were probably older than Dimba, or…

Never be as one

Never as one, never as one, no

We’ll never be as one

Never as one, never as one, no

We’ll never be as one

“When I see you again, I’ll kill you,” is the last thing that Elysian Truth says to Nomfundo and Bel before they drive off in the Earth duo’s jeep in search of their own rescue party. The two of them wave the spacer off as Nobubele thought aloud to her companion.

“So, what do you think?”

“I dunno. Too boyish for me. Either go full femme or fist fight me, y’know?”

Bel rubbed against her human girlfriend’s neck from the perch on her shoulder as she replied to the contrary, “I want to eat eggs with them again.”