#sbwn

Chapter One ---> SUNNY

I wake up feeling unusually groggy. I usually pride myself on being the first to wake and, therefore, the first to the Feeding Hall.

The Feeding Hall is my favorite place. They have many kinds of cuisine, from many planets through the galaxies we have taken control of. I am fond of Miranian grilled polinx in the morning, with a drink of Floxian glob. This is also a favorite combination of many of my co-workers, the Bugs on ship, so I try to be the first there to get it. This time, they may have run out, which is a damn shame. We only get so many shipments a Relalple!

I grumble to myself, sitting up in my bed, scratching my abdomen. Blinking the sleep beads out of my eyes, I finally get up, feet thumping on the cool metal floor. I flex my toes a bit, finally waking up fully. My feetclaws clack on the floor with the motion.

I drag my feet to the closet, the gills on my neck flexing, fluttering, taking in the humid air of the ship. I have nasal cavities as well, like other low-bred Beings of my status, but there is no need for them on this ship. Often, I like to cover them up with a strip of rough cloth, which is one of the items allowed me as an employee here. I asked for it in purple, to complement my scales.

I dress in an orange tunic and thin tan pants, feet bare. I clip in my Heritage earring, which denotes my family and employee status of Bug.

Finally, I feel ready, so I head out of my room and to the Feeding Hall.

As expected, the Feeding Hall is more crowded than usual. However, I can still see the sign for the Miranian polinx, so I head to that line, hoping to all the terrors that be that there will be enough for me to have a full entree.

There are a lot of fellow Ki’golians around me. The size of the crowd gives me anxiety, which creeps up my back; an unpleasant chill. I have never liked crowds, preferring the solitude of a SchoolFeeding station. Knowledge is power, after all, and that is the only power I’m allowed to have. And I’m barely allowed that power.

The Being in front of me seems particularly boisterous. His style of clothing denotes his gender, …  (translator’s note: a long description of Thorian’s gender is dictated here. To simplify it for the average Earth Reader, Thorian is mostly masculine, but leans towards feminine dress, as denoted by the colors he chooses for his clothing.) He is laughing with a group of friends, loud trill echoing in the chamber. He stands confident, posture upright, bright pink eyes flashing in the dim light of the Hall.

I find myself entranced; unable to look away. He is a Being of beautiful looks - and he is a higher-up; a Xan of excellent family ranking. I stiffen. I have no idea how to act around him, so I find myself clicking my feetclaws on the ground in a fit of anxiety.

Well, anxiety isn’t the right word to describe my feeling...it’s a light fluttery feeling in the back of my abdomen; a lightness in my shoulders, a strange heat to my face.

Maybe I’m hungry?

My abdomen rumbles in agreement, and I clutch it, willing the noise away; willing myself invisible. The Being’s eyes flick down to me, and I jump, immediately straightening my posture; holding myself in the salute position.

His voice, deep and velvety, regards me: “Bug. Are you hungry?”

I blink, feeling my face flush what must be an unattractive color. I swallow. “Yes,” I croak, incredibly embarrassed.

“There is no need to salute me,” he smiles lightly, and I immediately snap my hand back down from my forehead. I can’t believe he’s looking at me right now...I hope my GlekStyle is in an acceptable shape.

(translator’s note: ...it’s really hard to explain GlekStyles and their cultural meanings. Further reading on this is in the index of this novel. For now, just assume that whenever GlekStyles come up S’arn is talking about their hair or someone else’s hair.)

“What are you going to order?” This is not a question, but a command.

“G-grilled polinx. Sir.”

“Is that all?”

“And Floxian glob as well. At the other line. Sir,” I add quickly. My knees are quaking. I fear I might fall down. This is incredibly embarrassing. Usually the uppers ignore the bugs. Why is this one talking to me? His friends regard me. They are all uppers as well. Oh, Terror above, what did I do to deserve this?

He regards me, pink eyes bright. They are all that I can look at. The color is impressive, I think, trying to distance myself from the situation at hand. They are quite bright. Uppers always have prettier looks than Bugs, after all. Xan especially. Oh, Terror!

“You pronounced Floxian with the correct undertones,” he remarks. If I could stiffen anymore, I would become a pole holding up the ceiling of this Hall!

“O-oh, yes, yes, I studied basic languages back on Sixar-tensen. I received high marks for pronunciation, so I would hope I’d pronounce the planet’s name right. I’ve also done some side research on-”

His gaze is searching.

I swallow my words, embarrassed by my outburst. I can’t believe I’m rambling again in front of a superior! I could get in trouble again!

Oh, Terror above, I stopped talking.

“-Sir,” I add, quickly, embarrassed further by my slip-up. I can’t believe I forgot to denote this Xan with the proper respect! I want to eject myself into space right now.

Finally, he smiles. “You’re funny, Bug. What is your name?”

I clear my throat, face still flushed. “S’arn, Sir.”

“You may call me Thorian.”

Shocked, I feel my eyes widen. Why is he trying to be friendly with me?

(translator’s note: Ki’golian society is based on hierarchy, as previously said by S’arn. Beings of the Xan class are a notch higher than the lowest, the Bugs. It is unusual for Bugs to be even talked to, except by other Bugs. Thorian’s allowing S’arn to call him by his name is rather shocking, and his friends will react accordingly.)

“Thor? Why do you call this Bug by their name?” One of Thorian’s companions finally speaks up, alarm written all over her face.

Thorian levels his gaze at his friend, a warm smile still on his face. “I find them funny. I wish for us to be friends. Is that wrong?”

The companions looked at each other, both astonished.

I still couldn’t quite process what was happening. The line had moved forward, and the Xan behind me had to shove me so I would move.

“Well,” the other companion, a male, finally said, “there is no arguing with that, Thorian. Though I do wonder what is funny about this Bug? They seem like all the rest of them. Spouting useless knowledge and all that.”

I let myself bristle at the Classist comment, but choose to stay silent. No electrocution, not today, not ever again.

“I see promise within their soul,” Thorian said, turning away, facing the menu again.

I didn’t know what that meant, but the Xans seemed to quiet down, though they still whispered among themselves, giving me strange glances.

The line moved forward. I walked, as if in a trance.

CODENAME: AGENT S1143

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. It protests at the action, squeaking unpleasantly, the sound reverberating in the large domed room that my cubicle, along with many others, is situated. I'm done working for the day, finally. It always feels like my work is never-ending, but my job is important, at least in the eyes of the Overseer. 

I flex my feet, hearing the joints crack. Us menial workers "run the show," according to the many posters hung up around the satellite base. We are the backbone that run the hypothetical "body" of the Earth Mission #024. At least, that's what the Overseer tells us to make us feel better.

 My work consists of an infinite amount of paperwork. Well, fairly recently in terms of history we've gone digital, so it's all computerized work. My older co-workers often complain about the supposed "laziness" of folk my age because we never had to sort physical paperwork like they did. It's really fucking annoying, to be honest. But I digress. My job is basically to scan over the documents which detail, in exactness, the birth of a Human, and all their medical "traits." I run the document through diagnostics to make sure there are no glitches. It's just some debug program, one that I could probably program myself if I had the desire,  but I'd probably get in trouble with my Local Leader. As much as I don't give a literal fuck what my Local Leader thinks, I don't feel like being electrocuted to death anytime soon. After the document goes through diagnostics, I click the confirm button, and the next document pops up. It's all I live for, basically.

It's menial; almost an insult to my intellect. I pride myself on being a fairly smart Ki'golian these days, though I was fairly rebellious in my youth, and didn't spend much time at the Academy. I preferred to spend my time in more...lucrative ways.

I get up, rubbing my shoulders. Terror above, they're sore... What I wouldn't give for a sauna in this damn place. Not like I'd ever be able to use something like that, as a folk of my status.

Feeling rather sour, I leave the Dome to head to my apartment. I swipe my card, entering my apartment Block, then find my room number and swipe to enter that. Alone at last. I recline on my bed, looking out the small window to the view of Earth. The planet is large, and I am currently viewing the Pacific Ocean. It's the largest one, which is the only way I can remember it. It's incredibly blue, even covered with clouds, and I find that I can't look away. The sun's light reflects on it even from my vantage point, though the clouds cover most of it, swirling gently, circularly. Actually seeing it in person is kind of a shock to me still. I've done boring work before, in boring places, so I figured the Earth Mission, when they reached out to me, would be no different. But the scenery, at least, is incredibly extravagant, even if the pay isn't.

 ...it really is a beautiful planet. I suppose there are things that don't have a monetary value. Scenery like this, I suppose, can be counted as one of them.

-----

GAMER-ID: BETATESTER 112

"Dammit!" Tasha exclaimed, slamming her controller on the ground. Next to her, her friend Leila yelled in success, punching the air with fervor. She was at Leila's house, playing video games with her together after school. The room was brightly lit, and Leila's screen was massive. It was a video gamer's heaven.

"Fuck, Leila, you're way too good at games. Seriously," Tasha groaned, rubbing her temples. She continued, "you'd be real good in the robotics club. I could use a friend there."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Leila reiterated, setting down her controller and pulling a hair tie off her wrist, using it to pull up her hair. Tasha couldn't help but watch the motion, watched Leila's tan, toned arms as she fixed her hair. "You hate that the guys there think your sexuality's a challenge." Tasha blinked, focusing back on Leila's face.

"You think the teacher's wishy-washy for letting that shit happen. But you want to go to college for Rocket Science, so you're sticking with it anyway." Leila scoffed. "If I were you, I would'a quit the moment one of 'em started hitting on me."

"Not all of us have a career in lucrative hobbies, Leila. I gotta work for that future degree, y'know?" Tasha grumbled, annoyed. "Which means I have to be in a shit ton of clubs, even ones I'm...less fond of, and I've gotta do well in my classes, so that MIT might even consider me. I just wanted a little more support, that's all I was asking. It's not that hard to join a-"

"Stop." Leila's voice was tight. Her shoulders had tensed up. Tense herself, Tasha leveled her gaze at Leila, not about to back down now.

Outside, a bird trilled. Leila's robotic butler rolled to its charging dock and hooked itself on, shutting down for a quick nap, it seemed.

Leila scoffed.

 Tasha blinked.

 "Video gaming is hard work, okay! It's an actual skill."

Tasha glared at Leila. Leila was changing the topic again, like she always did when Tasha brought up her tendency to slack off. 

"No, it's not," she responded, annoyed with herself for encouraging this particularly irksome behavior of Leila's.

"Fuck you. It is," Leila growled, giving Tasha the respective finger.

Tasha groaned, frustrated, throwing her hands up in the air. This is how their conversations have been going lately, and Tasha can pinpoint it starting during the week that Tasha and their mutual friend Akane began casually dating, three months ago. Ever since then, for whatever reason, Leila has been really tough to be around, especially with applications for college starting up this month.

Tasha knew Leila was sensitive about her grades in school. No matter how much Tasha tried to reassure her it was just a letter, it didn't mean anything towards her intellect, it was still a touchy subject with her, for whatever reason. Leila wasn't planning on going to college, and college was all Tasha could think about. It was, in hindsight, a recipe for disaster. 

"You know what," she began, getting up from her seat. "I'm getting a little tired of your attitude, Leila."

Tasha grimaced, before flicking her off. She hated to do it, but Leila seriously needed a taste of her own medicine."Wait, Tasha," Leila whined, but it was too late.

Tasha had walked out of the door.

 Tasha strode purposefully to her car, parked in front of the Horton's mansion. Leila was just another nobody who spent all their time gaming. A nobody who had once been special to Tasha, but not anymore. Tasha had bigger things on her plate, and that plate didn't have room for Leila's rich girl problems.

Tasha gunned the engine, tasting the delicious feeling of knowing that Leila, right now, had heard that, and was probably upset.

It was almost like freedom.

-----

LEILA

She yearned after those Saturday nights spent drinking strawberry lemonade and watching the clouds, sun bright, in her eyes, in Tasha's eyes, the bright summer sky turning everything a shade of gold. Flittering, fluttering, old dandelion fluff from spring still in the air, making her nose itch.

She loved to watch as the white puffs blew in the slight breeze. She wished, oh God, did she wish, that she could fly like them, free, warmed by the sun, dancing against the wind.

And when she looked into Tasha's warm hazel eyes, she was part of the way there.

.

.

.

But all she felt now was the deepest chill, winter's chill creeping up her bones and settling in her spine. It froze her. She couldn't move, as her dearest friend and one-sided lover walked away, for what looked like the last time.

-----

DIARY LOG 10/10/40

Today's mission went pretty rough. Those damned beasts keep making the chase harder. I keep hacking into their mainframe to try and disable their cloaking device, but they change the security every time. And it's always so God...damned convoluted. Ugh, I have the worst fucking headache right now. Boss keeps telling me I need lasik, or contacts, or even old-fashioned glasses, but there's no time for that. Not when I'm the only hacker on the Resistance team. We really need to get someone else who can program. Jesus.