The Unconquered

[Snoofman]

Vulnerability

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Even after being rescued by the Loroi warriors whom had finally arrived at Seren, Fireblade’s troubles did not end with the end of the Umiak’s occupation. Upon discovering the young Fireblade’s exponential psychokinetic power and the fact that she could kill an Umiak hardtrooper with just a thought, the warriors who discovered Fireblade immediately shipped her to Deinar, where she was enrolled at the Teidar Academy of Toridas. Despite being thrust into a new world and a new culture with little say in the matter, the young Fireblade wanted to become a warrior, an honor not afforded to most civilians.

The training was grueling. The teachers were strict. And the constant bullying Fireblade was subjected to by her peers-in-training only worsened the burden. The few would-be friends Fireblade made were often quick to abandon her due to peer pressure from Fireblade’s oppressors. The name-calling Fireblade often received, with little intervention from her elders, was disheartening at best. At worst it devastated Fireblade’s sense of self-worth and faith in her compatriots. The slander she suffered:

<Fallen civie spawn!>

<Shell trick!>

<Outsider!>

The abuse of Fireblade’s warrior-born peers gave her little reason to reach out. And, after brutally wounding an aggressor that pushed Fireblade to her breaking point and demonstrating her powers that outshown even Teidar veterans, Fireblade’s peers regarded her fearfully and rarely bothered her again.

Training at the Teidar Academy became a lonely experience for Fireblade, yet she found comfort in solitude. She found it when she was granted leave to wander the streets of Toridas alone, excited by the merchandise and consumables of street vendors and kiosks. She found it in the wilderness, in Toridas’ grassy highlands or by listening to the soothing rush of water at the Redcliff Falls. She found it at the top of the Teidar school’s tower, where she liked to sit by herself and watch Deinar’s rings illuminated in the twilight, followed by constant falling debris streaking through the atmosphere.

Despite the hardships of training to be a Teidar, Fireblade still had pleasant memories of Deinar. It was opportune that Thule’s hologram chamber had recordings of Deinar.

Fireblade was seated on the hologram chamber’s grassy floor. Little Alfhildr was seated by her left side, admiring the alien world through the projections on the walls. Alfhildr was bedazzled by the panoramic views of Toridas at dusk under a sky dominated by Deinar’s rings and the endless bombardment of shooting stars zipping across the heavens.

“Toridas looks really cool,” said Alfhildr. “What were the blue elves there like?”

Beryl, who sat close by, spoke, “Fireblade says, ‘Difficult to say. I did not speak much with strangers. It seems a safe wager that everyone was different. United only by the same adherence to Union laws.’”

“What did you do for fun there?” Alfhildr asked Fireblade.

Fireblade shrugged. “‘I would explore the city’s stores, look for objects that reminded me of my first home on Seren. I would visit arcades. One of my favorite hobbies was Toridas’ annual Torch Tournament.’”

Now that got Alfhildr’s interest. “What’s the Torch Tournament?”

Fireblade looked to Beryl, who explained, “Torch is a competitive sport. A game in which two opposing teams try to burn down each other’s steeples.”

Alfhildr’s interested peaked. “Is there a way to see it?”

Beryl grinned. “I recall having a few digital recordings of Torch matches.” She scrolled through the hologram chamber’s archive, pressing a digital button. The holographic wall changed. One side projected a complete view of a Torch arena. Hundreds of thousands of Loroi spectators audibly cheered around the most bizarre sports field Alfhildr had ever seen.

The Torch playing field was not like typical Terran arenas. The Torch field was layout of overlapping and intersecting walkways and bridges suspended over a muddy pit. Alfhildr learnt through the recording that each team had a torch bearer. The torch bearer’s teammates were responsible for protecting her from attackers while she carried the torch to the opposing team’s steeple.

Alfhildr jumped with excitement as defenders wrestled with attackers, one trying to push the other into the muddy pit below.

“Skit vad coolt,” said Alfhildr, admiring the spectacle. “It’s like… a mix of the Olympics and gridiron.”

“Gridiron?” Alex asked, seated not too far from Fireblade’s right.

Alfhildr leaned forward to look at Alex. “You know, gridiron? That American sport where they carry a ball and crash into each other?”

Alex blinked a few times, trying to build a recognizable image in his head. “You mean football?”

“That’s not real football,” Alfhildr objected. “Football is a proper sport with culture.”

“If by real football, you mean soccer,” said Alex, “I find the notion of kicking a ball around for hours, barely managing to get just one goal halfway into the game to be quite tedious. At least ‘gridiron’… as you call it, is fun.”

Alfhildr humphed. “Yeah, if you don’t mind brain concussions.”

“I feel compelled to agree with Alfhildr on that point,” said Beryl, taking a seat on Alex’s right. “I have researched the subject of the gridiron football game. And am shocked that the Americans even allow such a sport considering the irreparable trauma it induces in participants.”

“Oh, great,” Alex muttered. “Now you’re all ganging up against America.”

“Not America,” Alfhildr pointed out. “Just tasteless Americans.”

Alex sighed. “I give up on you.”

Alfhildr went back to admiring the game, getting jittery with excitement as one team’s torch bearer reached the opposing team’s steeple, setting fire to the base as it went up in flames before a new steeple was erected in its place.

“This is an awesome sport,” Alfhildr said to Firelbade, snuggling up to her arm.

Fireblade did not like being touched. But physical contact with Alfhildr was an exception. Since coming to Thule, Fireblade had watched Alfhildr grow from a toddler to a young girl. If there was one thing they had in common, it is that they both lost their mothers to conflict. During her time off duty, Fireblade spent part of it looking out for Alfhildr, watching her grow and sharing stories with the little one. The Unsheathed also took amusement in hearing about Alfhildr’s mischief during Fireblade’s absence from Thule, especially when it entailed tormenting Alex.

Hence why Alex thought it a good idea for the two to spend time together following Fireblade’s earlier meltdown. Fireblade needed comfort. And as obnoxious as Alex thought Alfhildr was, he could not deny that she had a positive influence on Fireblade.

Fireblade noticed the little girl lower her head to her lap and within minutes, even with the excitement of the Torch match going on, started snoring. Fireblade gazed down at little Alfhildr, tenderly stroking her hair.

Alex grinned. “She really loves you,” he remarked.

Fireblade looked toward Alex. “‘I know,’” Beryl said on her behalf.

“I admit it makes me a bit jealous at times.”

Fireblade smirked mildly in kind. <Beryl,> she sent. <Switch back to the view of Toridas at dusk.>

Beryl obliged. The hologram shifted back to the view of the alien city under Deinar’s rings and the sky of shooting stars. “Fireblade directs me to say that she wants to spend some time alone and rest in the hologram chamber.”

Alex nodded. “We should get Alfhildr back to her father.”

“Fireblade wants Alfhildr to stay with her tonight. She knows her father would not mind.”

Alex thought to object. But figured it was what Fireblade needed for the moment. He fetched a blanket from the hologram chamber’s storage box, draping it over little Alfhildr. Fireblade nodded her thanks, admiring the view of Deinar’s sky as Beryl and Alex left the hologram chamber. He stole one last glance at Fireblade gently caressing Alfhildr before the doors slid shut.

“Is it true, Alex?” Beryl asked.

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Is what true?”

“Are you jealous of the connection between Fireblade and Alfhildr?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Maybe ‘jealous’ is bit of a strong word.”

“Does it have to do with the fact that you and Fireblade can no longer bond in the dreamscape?”

Alex shrugged. “Well… I haven’t really thought about it that much in a long time. I guess sometimes I miss that deep connection we shared. But that’s not what defines our friendship.”

Beryl offered Alex an admirable smile. “Spoken like a true comrade. I do wish I could observe Fireblade and Alfhildr in their sleep.”

“Tonight’s not a good night.”

“I know, Alex. But I am compelled by my curiosity. If Fireblade is indeed not returning to active duty, perhaps she and Alfhildr would agree to participate in some of my scientific observations.”

“Give it up, Beryl. No one’s figured out how the subconscious bond between Loroi and humans works.”

“Please, Alex, do not discourage my pursuits. In the time we have been on Earth, I have witnessed not only Fireblade and Alfhildr’s subconscious bond grow. I have seen Lore bond with Tonraq from Qaanaaq. There is Unsheathed Ironrain who still frequently visits that tribal woman she met in Namibia. The data I have gathered on these encounters is still inconclusive. But… they have given me the inspiration for a new theory regarding the subconscious bond between these alien individuals.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“It seems obvious that the human lotai is an unconcious construct. Hence why humans achieve it effortlessly. I had once assumed that your former connection to Fireblade was a breech in your psychic defense, as it were. But I think I was wrong. I have no proof, but… I am beginning to wonder if perhaps the seemingly breech in the human lotai is not a weakness on the humans’ part, but rather a subconscious lowering of the humans’ defenses.”

Alex thought over Beryl’s words a moment. “You mean like… an act of vulnerability?”

Beryl beamed, pleased with Alex’s intelligence. “Exactly! I believe the reason the Loroi in question are able to enter the human mind subconsciously is not because of a breech. But because the humans allow them in.”

“So… what you’re saying is… I blocked Fireblade out?” Alex stated more than asked.

Beryl’s smile fell away. “Forgive me, Alex. I did not mean to discourage you. I don’t know why you and Fireblade can no longer bond in the dreamscape anymore than you do.”

“Well,” Alex said, trying to look at it optimistically, “got to admit it’s an intriguing theory of yours.”

“Yes,” said Beryl. “But potentially dangerous.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous how?”

“If what I have described was the truth, the notion of humans allowing Loroi entry into their subconscious denotes a more powerful form of sanzai. Such a notion challenges the foundation of the Loroi Union, which is founded on Deinar’s assertion that the Loroi are the true descendants of the Soia. Sanzai seems to be regarded as the mark of distinction that elevates Loroi above all other sapients. If the Unionists found out there was a telepathic race more powerful than them, how do you think they would react?”

“My guess,” said Alex, “they’d get pretty damn scared.”

“More than scared,” said Beryl, stopping to face Alex. “A more powerful telepathic race threatens the Loroi’s dominance. It might further escalate tensions between humanity and Loroi.”

“You mean more tense than they are now?”

“Alex, please do not mock me.”

“I’m not.” He placed his hands on Beryl’s sides. “I value your opinions and insights. If you believe this theory of yours has any footing, then… pursue it.”

That earned him a kiss on the lips. Beryl smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “So then… would you mind unlocking your door?”

Alex was bemused. “What door?”

Beryl scoffed out a chuckle. “The door to your room, of course.”

“Why are we outside my room?” Alex asked, mildly baffled.

Beryl blinked, baffled at Alex’s cluelessness. “Well, aside from the fact we seemed to walk here together under the assumption that you knew where you were going… you still owe me an intimate encounter.”

“Oh!” Alex unlocked his bedroom, opening the door. He curtsied with a wave of his hand. “After you, madam.”

Beryl grinned, glancing back at Alex alluringly, hips swaying with every stride. “Come, Enzin. My sheath is getting frosty.”

Alex chuckled, marching with head high into his bedroom. “Love that elf.”



That night Fireblade dreamt of her favorite perch on the tallest spire of the Teider school, admiring in solitude the rain of fiery streaks etching their mark into Deinar's sky before vanishing. She was content to be by herself, watching the one thing that gave her comfort.

A snicker from behind disrupted her pleasant viewings. Fireblade snarled through her nostrils more than her mouth when she swirled from her perch, expecting to catch one of her bullies harassing her again. But was momentarily stunned to find a strange, short-lug girl with oddly pink skin poorly concealing her presence behind the wall leading to the stairwell of the tower.

It took Fireblade a moment to remember this alien girl that had been frequenting her childhood lately.

Alfhildr walked up to the Teidar-in-training. "Hey, Leinnol," she spoke. As strange as the language was, Fireblade found she could understand it perfectly. "How goes it?"

Fireblade blinked, rolling her good eye back to the heavens. <Same sky. Same stars. More falling debris.>

"Falling debris? You mean shooting stars?"

Fireblade glanced at her alien acquaintance. <What a poetic name for falling debris.>

Alfhildr took her perch right next to Fireblade's, admiring Deinar's massive orbiting rings and the sight of Toridas below. "This is better than a hologram."

Fireblade looked at the alien girl bemusedly. <What?>

"You'll understand when we wake up."

<Wake up?> It took Fireblade a moment to realize what Alfhildr's words implied. <I see. So we're dreaming.>

"Ya! You know what that means? We can do whatever we want in here. What say you about a little adventure?"

<I've been training hard today. I just want to relax, watch the stars and the city below.>

"Come on, Leinnol," Alfhildr pouted. "You can watch the sights anytime. Time with friends on the other hand is precious." She folded her hands, leaning toward Fireblade with pleading eyes. "Please?"

Fireblade rolled her eye, groaning out her nostrils. <You look absolutely feeble.>

Alfhildr grinned mischievously, leaning even closer toward Fireblade. "And you, vanilla girl, look... delicious."

Fireblade nearly shrieked as Alfhildr licked her on the cheek. The Loroi jumped off her perch chasing Alfhildr down the stairwell, through the halls of the Academy. Strange how her peers and teachers seemed to pay no mind to the alien running among them. Than again this was a dream. Fireblade finally caught up, wrestling Alfhildr to the ground.

Alfhildr just giggled as Fireblade pinned her arms to the ground. "Okay, okay!" she heaved. "I give up! I give up! Sorry!"

Fireblade released Alfhildr, rolling onto her back beside the human. <Why do you harass me like this?>

"Having fun isn't harassment," said Alfhildr. "Besides, I like you."

Fireblade sent nothing. Yet she felt oddly... touched. No one had ever said to Fireblade that they liked her before. It felt nice.

Alfhildr rolled onto her side, facing Fireblade. "So... adventure time?"

Fireblade sighed, rolling onto her side to meet Alfhildr's gaze. <Alright, Alfhildr. What do you have in mind?>

Jumping to her feet, Alfhildr stretched out her hand for Fireblade's "Hop to your feet and we'll find out."

Despite her reservations to touching others, especially aliens, Fireblade took Alfhildr's hand. Alfhildr hefted Fireblade to her feet and together they left the confines of the Teidar Academy to explore worlds within dreams.

[wolf329]

An excellent description of a soldier that has known nothing but war and defined themselves by it.

[Snoofman]

The Interview

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The day had finally arrived. The rest of the emissaries hailing from the Confederation had come to Thule. Their escort was anything but meager. Confederate soldiers armed with semi-automatic rifles filed out of the airbus, lining up in parallel aisles, seemingly unfazed by the wind and snow blasting against them. And out of the airbus came the Confederate officers.

Colonel Jorgensen stood formally within the main entrance, along with Alex, Chandra, the Loroi Chiefs, Beryl and Fireblade, as the Confederate officers entered Thule’s main complex. Like Chandra, the emissaries were dressed in the standard dark grey colors of the Confederation.

One Confederate stepped forward. Chandra approached her, offering a formal salute. The woman saluted him back. Chandra stepped aside, allowing her to step up to Alex.

Fireblade kept an eye on her, inching slightly closer to Alex as she glared the Confederate down. The Confederate had the ribbons of an Admiral. She was an unusually tall woman whose height rivaled Fireblade’s. Her hair was dark, nearly black. She appeared to be a hybrid of many ethnicities, judging by her mild ebony skin tone dominating her diamond-shaped face, and slightly narrow eyelids, slanting over olive-green irises.

“Director Alexander Jardin, I presume.” Her accent was heavy, difficult to place. Alex could only guess she was colonial-born, raised in a culture distinct from Earth’s.

Alex saluted the Confederate woman. “I am, ma’am.”

She saluted back. “I am Admiral Kellan Visata. I trust that Commodore Chaudhary has brought you up to speed on the purpose of our visit.”

Alex lowered his hand. “He has… Admiral.”

“Good,” Kellan said simply. She motioned her colleagues forward to introduce them. Among the Confederate emissaries were ship’s captains, intelligence specialists or high-ranking colonial marines. Alex could not help but notice there were no official diplomats representing their respective worlds among this group.

“Admiral, may I ask why there are no colonial diplomats among you?” Alex asked.

“Colonial diplomatic officers are dispatched on assignments regarding colonial affairs,” Kellan explained. “This meeting is a military matter.”

“I see,” said Alex. He was beginning to understand just how much protocols and authority procedures of the Terran Colonies and Interstellar Travel had changed over the years. Not what he remembered during his days in the TCA.

Jorgenssen stepped forward, saluting the Admiral. “Admiral Visata, I am Colonel Jorgenssen. We have prepared guest quarters during your stay here with us at Thule.”

Kellan nodded slightly. “Much obliged, Colonel.”

The Colonel motioned to the Loroi assmebled. “And these are the Chiefs of the Loroi community of Thule and Qaanaaq. May I present Chief Treestump.”

Treestump took a step forward, offering a formal nod. Hotbrand as well as the other Chiefs stepped forward as the Colonel introduced them one by one.

Kellan’s gaze seemed particularly fixed on Fireblade as she was introduced. “Unsheathed Fireblade,” Kellan said, a hint of interest in her tone. “I have heard many things about your exploits here on Earth. Including the warlord of Rio, whom you recently… terminated.”

Fireblade’s eyes narrowed slightly, not sure whether to interpret that last sentence as praise or condemnation.

Beryl stepped forward. “A-and I am Observer Beryl, Admiral Kellan Visata,” she said, forcing a polite smile. “I will serve as Fireblade’s translator during the interview to come.”

“Observer Beryl?” Kellan asked. “I do not recall you being granted clearance to this meeting.”

“If I may, Admiral,” Alex interjected, “Unsheathed Fireblade does not speak… at all. Indeed a few Loroi are not comfortable or skilled at spoken speech. That is why Beryl serves as a speaker on their behalf. Beryl’s eidetic memory is also a great aid.”

Kellan silently regarded Beryl, like the way a person regards an unwanted stray, before turning her focus back to Alex. “Very well. This meeting requires complete privacy. I trust that you have a SCIF prepared for us?”

“We do, Admiral.”

“Good,” said Kellan. “We will convene at 1400 hours therein. One more thing, Director. My knowledge on the impulses and needs of Loroi are shaky. But I am aware that your alien friends have… an ardent interest in humans. Therefore I want to be perfectly clear; any coital activity between the aliens residing here and the men,” she added after a brief pause, “and women under my command is strictly prohibited. Is that clear?”

Alex nodded. “Completely, ma’am.”

With that said, Kellan allowed Jorgenssen to lead her to the guest rooms along with the rest of her company.

Alex noticed Fireblade staring after the Confederates even after they left the main entrance. “You okay, Red?”

Fireblade pointed in the direction of the Confederates before wrapping her thumb around her index finger to form a particularly tight circle.

Alex sighed out as he said, “Yes, Fireblade. I know they are. But it’s just for a few days. Are you sure you want to partake in this meeting?”

Fireblade nodded. Beryl said on her behalf, “She says, ‘Whatever we do, we do together.’”

Alex smirked, “‘Atta girl.”

“Fireblade is curious about something else. And by extension, me. Is that Admiral what humans would call a hag?”

Alex pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’ll get back to you on that one. Also... mind your tone.”



Thule’s Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility was rarely used, as the Loroi shared practically everything with each other. The subterranean chamber housing the facility was utilized primarily for visitors from the UN Security Council or high-ranking E1 officers. Today it played host to the Confederates.

Even after assuring Admiral Visata and her associates that the chamber offered complete privacy, her security detail inspected the facility from top to bottom.

“Not very trusty, your friends,” Alex whispered to Chandra, standing by his side as they waited for the protective agents to finish their inspection.

“You’d be too if the protection and security of all Terran space were resting on your shoulders,” Chandra quietly shot back.

“Touché.”

After the protective agents confirmed the facility was secure, the Confederates took their seats. The Loroi followed suit, sitting opposite at the long table.

Before taking his seat, Chandra whispered to Alex, “Bit of advice. Don’t give them smart mouth.”

Alex finally took his seat and the meeting began.

“So then,” Kellan began, “this meeting between the residents, human and alien, of Thule Airbase as well as serving members of E1 and we, the representatives of the Terran Confederation, is now in order. Let us first start off, so that it may offer this assembly some relief, that this is not an interrogation. No one is on trial. Nor are we here to prosecute anyone… human or alien. We are also aware of the Protective Alien Clauses of the UN, the protocols of E1 and therefore acknowledge the limits of the Confederation's authority on Earth's soil.”

That struck Jardin as surprisingly decent on the Confederates’ part. “That’s, um,” he grunted, “good to hear, Admiral. But before we start, there’s something I need… indeed, we all need to know. What exactly is this meeting about?”

“This is a matter of interstellar security, Director Jardin. Your cooperation helps us in that endeavor. We are here because we are looking for answers. Answers that only those assembled here may be able to provide.”

“Well then,” said Jardin, folding his hands as he rested his elbows on the table, “don’t keep us in suspense.” He noticed out of the corner of his eye Chandra giving him a serious look. Alex avoided making any gestures to exhibit a professional demeanor.

“Let’s get straight to the point then,” Kellan continued. “Director Alexander Jardin, you and the Loroi here gave military service during their time in the Loroi Union. More specifically, at some point, you all served directly under the command of Emperor Greywind. Correct?”

“Each of us served in the Emperor’s strike group during the Great War against the Umiak Hierarchy, yes.”

“Director, you were under the Emperor’s employ for… what was it? Five years?”

“A little under five,” Alex thought to correct.

“And during your employment to Emperor Greywind, did you work closely with her?”

“It would be more accurate to say I assisted her… when I wasn’t serving aboard my command ship.”

“But you interacted with her directly?” Kellan stated more than asked.

“Yes.”

“Director, how does a man like yourself suddenly go from being a committed employee of Emperor Greywind to a wanted fugitive of the Loroi Union?”

Alex squinted, lowering his hands to rest on the table. “Admiral, if I may… I have given a full testimony about the reasons for fleeing from the Loroi Union. Have you read it?”

“In great detail,” Kellan replied.

“Then what’s the point of asking me what you already know about me? Or the Loroi defectors?”

“Although we have the report of your time in the Loroi Union, we find it necessary to get the story from the source. The reason for this… we will get to eventually. Now I will repeat the question. Better yet, let me rephrase it: you were a loyal employee for Emperor Greywind for a little under five years. One might say that that’s quite a commitment.”

“Not like I had much of a choice,” Alex muttered.

Kellan grinned. “Indeed. It’s hard to say no to a Loroi.”

A few of the Confederates chuckled. Some of the Loroi scowled, mildly insulted.

Kellan carried on, “Director, is it true Emperor Greywind asked you to remain under her employ even after the war was over?”

“That's one way of putting it. Another is to say she was insistent on keeping one of her most valuable assets close and would not take no for an answer."

"Did you feel trapped?"

"If I was, I... didn't really mind at the time. I had come a long way during my service in the war with a promising future within the Loroi military if I agreed to support Greywind. And, I admit, a part of me wanted it."

“Why flee then? What caused you to fall out of the Emperor’s good graces?”

“It’s… very complicated, Admiral. But to summarize it, she betrayed the trust of those she was sworn to protect. Once I learnt the truth, there was no mending the rift it created between Greywind and myself. That… and the fact that I had a friend in trouble.”

Kellan was silent a moment. Alex noticed her gaze swing to Fireblade, as if studying her, before shifting back to Alex. Alex could tell that the Admiral knew something. One of the Intelligence Specialists leaned over, whispering into Kellan’s ear. Kellan did not nod. Nor exhibit any other gesture as she passively listened to whatever advice the Intelligence Specialist might be giving.

Kellan continued, “Director, let’s approach this from a different angle. Why don’t we start from the beginning? When did you first meet Emperor Greywind?”

“It was shortly after our victory over the Umiak’s failed attempt at penetrating the Loroi defense fleet at Enedd. And… after I was put into captivity… again,” Alex admitted with mild embarrassment.

“You mean you were imprisoned by the Loroi?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“Why?”

“That’s a bit of a long story in and of itself.”

Kellan leaned forward, resting on her elbows. “We got time.”

“Let’s just say I had a piece of tech that was quite helpful to us when we hijacked an Umiak battlecruiser. After defeating the Stray, which sent the Umiak incursion force at Enedd into disarray, this gave us a window of opportunity to rendezvous with the ship, Prophet’s Reason. It was aboard this vessel that I was forced to reveal why the tech I was carrying could do the remarkable things it did. Upon discovering that the AI dubbed Walker was in fact a Historian in disguise, the Loroi responsible for my safety became… I hesitate to use the word hostile.”

Beryl scoffed at the observation.

“Go on, Director,” Kellan instructed.

Alex continued, “I wound up being at the center of an armed standoff between the alien crew of Prophet’s Reason and the Loroi.”

Kellan raised an eyebrow. “That seems a bit extreme, considering the Unionist aliens and Loroi were supposed to be allies.”

“The stresses of the war combined with the Unionist aliens’ disdain for the Loroi’s age old bigotry only served to escalate tensions.” Alex felt more than saw a few Loroi glare at him. He was not going to apologize for stating an obvious fact. He carried on, “It was Tempo who pacified both the Loroi and the aliens. While Strike Groups 20 and 51 tangled with the disorderly remnants of the Umiak forces, Rigai Mozin and Walker tried persuading me to accompany them to Moro, where I would be given political asylum. And while it was not a condition for being granted sanctuary, they pleaded with me to present myself to the Alien Assembly. There I could advocate for humanity without the coercive influence of the Loroi as well as aid the Universalists' petitions against the Emperor’s policies.”

“Why didn’t you accept their offer?” asked Kellan.

“I was definitely considering it. Until Tempo came forward with a revelation of her own. When I was being held aboard the Loroi military vessel, Tempest, I was told by Beryl at the time that the Bellermine was likely destroyed by an Umiak vessel. The truth, as I learnt from Tempo, was that Beryl was under orders to offer me an… alternate speculation, as Tempo called it. The green beam that I saw destroy the aft section of Bellermine, along with the plasma focus discharge detected by the Tempest, matched that of a Historian weapon. The Loroi suspected this from the start. But Tempo admitted to misleading me for fear it might jeopardize hopes for an alliance between humanity and the Union. When I confronted Walker, it admitted to the possibility.”

“Is that what compelled you to continue with the Loroi to Seren rather than follow the other aliens to Moro?”

Alex shook his head. “My final decision to go with the Loroi was pragmatic. According to Tempo, the Umiak Hierarchy was unsustainable, doomed to collapse unless they expanded and conquered endlessly. And the Loroi were the only thing stopping them. Tempo ultimately convinced me by making me aware that the Alien Assembly, while founded on altruistic principles, suffered from conflicts of interest. The Loroi needed their alien allies to be unified in directing resources to the war effort, in the interest of defending the Union against the Hierarchy. For all the Loroi military's faults, it was the Union's primary line of defense. If I chose to go to Moro, it might cause disunity. A political pivot within the Alien Assembly could disrupt the flow of resources to the war effort, which the Loroi military needed. The slightest disruption could give the Umiak an opportunity to overwhelm the Loroi and invade the rest of the Union.

“I had not forgotten my original mission to return to the nearest Terran relay as fast as possible. But it was slowly becoming obvious that, no matter what I chose, getting there was becoming less and less likely. If my custodians could not or would not get me to the relay, I would have to come up with some means of contacting my superiors.

“After the battle of Enedd was over, Rigai Mozin had no choice but to yield me and the Loroi aboard his ship to Black Razor. Taking asylum aboard Black Razor was a strategic move on Tempo’s part, as its commanding officer was Ashrain, a grandniece of the Emperor. After that, my tablet, still carrying some of the code of the Historian program, was deactivated and confiscated. I was put into confinement. Every day Tempo would visit my cell, assuring me that she was protecting me. None of the friends I made aboard Highland would even visit me. Loroi, it seems, take even the slightest betrayal of trust more personally than humans do.”

A few Loroi within the chamber audibly snorted.

Alex looked to both sides of his person at his Loroi comrades. “Don’t you start. Truth hurts.”

“If we can get back to the matter at hand,” Kellan commanded more than requested. “Director Jardin, what happened then?”

“Many days passed. Black Razor eventually made it to Seren. I was taken out of my cell and transported in shackles to the Imperial Mobile Capital, Cry of the Wind. That’s where I met Greywind.”

[Urist]

Ah, now we finally get to see how our (varyingly) intrepid heroes got into the situation(s) where they are now!

[Snoofman]

The Garth

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25 July 2160, 06:37 hours.

That was the exact time Alex read on his tablet while aboard Prophet’s Reason. The last time he got a good look at the date before his tablet was confiscated by the Loroi and he was herded onto Black Razor.

Although his confinement aboard Black Razor was longer than the eight days he spent in Tempest’s detention block, Alex knew what to expect. His confinement did not seem to stretch on like before. Plus Tempo’s visits gave him some solace.

During their transit, Tempo and Alex shared stories with each other to pass the time. Tempo told him about her upbringing at Eishran, a city-state on Perrein. Told him about her enrollment at the Mizol academy, her exploits during the Bluecrest insurrection which landed her on a special forces team. Her decades of service and sharp mind earned her promotion as intelligence officer, leading to her post aboard Tempest. Alex was further shocked to learn that Tempo, despite looking so youthful, was fifty-four years old. A compliment that earned him a blush from the sentinel, something he did not think Tempo was capable of.

Alex felt sheepish sharing his background with Tempo. All he had to compare with her long list of accomplishments was being a chess champion at elementary school, a Salutatorian honors graduate of Hellas Plantitia, Mars and annoying his war game instructors whenever he beat them at their own battle simulations. Tempo did little to conceal her own surprise when she learnt that, before encountering the Loroi, Alex had no prior military experience. His station aboard Bellermine for humanity’s contact mission was his first military assignment. And further shocked when Alex revealed that Ensign was the lowest commissioned rank in the Terran navy.

Alex came to enjoy Tempo’s company. But, remembering her ability to bend an Umiak’s mind to her will, he was reluctant to completely trust her. If she could control an alien with just a thought, what was to stop her from using such abilities on him? And while it comforted him to know that his lotai shielded him from the Loroi’s mental probing, he would be foolish to think he was impervious to their influence. His glimpses into what he could safely assume was Fireblade’s past seemed proof enough.

On that note, Alex considered it odd that the other Loroi had not demanded any further explanations ever since discovering he could peek into Fireblade’s memories when asleep ever since discovering the exclusive bond he shared with the Unsheathed. Even stranger that none of them bothered to visit him. Then again, they were still angry with him since discovering his willful concealment of Walker even after he chose to travel with them to Seren over Rigai’s offer of political asylum. But even so, why did they pose no questions on the matter? He thought Beryl of all Loroi should have been more inquisitive.

During the tenth day of his confinement, Alex decided to pose the question to Tempo. She firmly instructed Alex not to say it aloud and keep to what he knew about Fireblade private and that everything would be explained at the proper time.

“It is for your safety,” Tempo kept reminding him. An odd instruction, thought Alex. If the Loroi were telepathic, why bother keeping something secret? Were they even capable of that?

On the matter concerning his Loroi friends, Alex inquired to Tempo if they would ever forgive him. To which she replied, “Trust seems sacred to a Loroi. An act of deception from a comrade can be construed as betrayal. While I am not pleased with your former actions, I trust that you did so because you did not know any better. Had I been in a similar situation, I might have done as you did. It is possible for Loroi to reconcile with those that have deceived them. But their willingness to forgive takes time.”

Alex was further discouraged to learn that a Loroi’s preparedness to forgive could take anywhere from a few days to a couple decades.

On the thirteenth day of his confinement, Black Razor finally arrived. Alex was anxious, hopeful to get out of his cell at long last. But Tempo was gone for another two days. Alex had no visitors save for the guards who silently gave him his food and swiftly left.

Alex was surprised to see his comrades, still visibly angry with him, along with Tempo enter his cell. Tempo instructed, “Alex, groom yourself and dress. We are going to the mobile capital, Cry of the Wind, to meet the Emperor.”

It felt good to finally leave his cramped cell and walk more freely, albeit under harsh scrutiny from his Loroi escorts. And with his wrists and ankles shackled. Alex could barely walk properly, feeling insulted after what he had done for the Loroi at Enedd. To which Tempo apologized, “You are about to meet a Loroi of great import and still under suspicion by many around you. I am afraid this is necessary.”

Herded once more onto a shuttle, Alex and the Loroi departed Black Razor, inbound for Cry of the Wind.

During their brief transit, Alex tried to make conversation with Beryl. She simply gave him a cold shoulder. Flint refused to talk with him. Even Talon seemed distant. And, of course, Fireblade was glum and silent as usual.

It felt awfully lonesome.

Alex was caught off guard when a new Loroi approached him, gesturing to the Loroi guarding Alex to move aside so that she could sit by his side.

It took Alex a few seconds to remember that grey-skinned Loroi, distinguished by her blue eyes and silvery-white hair. The same that took a seat beside him.

“You are the Protector of the Garden, correct?” she asked.

Alex, not feeling much enthusiasm for being formal, said in a dry tone, “Who wants to know?”

“I am Torrai Torret Ashrain, commanding officer of Black Razor,” she replied. “I had hoped to become better acquainted with you during our journey. But I am afraid my duties as commanding officer prevented me. The battle of Enedd has also been stressful on all of us. That and the fact I was forced to partake in the tonnoils following our long battles with the Shells.”

“Tonnoils?” It took Alex to remember that word. “Oh, you mean death rituals.”

“Yes. Despite our victory at Enedd and the rest of the battle front, we lost many comrades. I myself lost some old friends.”

Sensing the sadness of her person, Alex offered in kind, “I’m… beginning to understand the burden of loss all too well.”

Ashrain’s sad look was slowly replaced with a faint grin. “Yet even so… we narrowly averted a collapse of the defense fleet. I wish to take this opportunity to properly thank you.”

Alex was surprised. “Thank me?”

“Your presence served as a useful distraction, drawing the Stray’s focus on the battlecruiser you hijacked. The story is in great circulation of the tactics you employed with only a handful of Loroi to commandeer an alien vessel. And the fact that you managed to destroy the Stray sent the Shells into disarray, giving us the opportunity to wipe their forces at Enedd.”

Alex should have felt flattered, but he shrugged. “Well… not like I did it alone.” He looked at his comrades beside him, who barely spared him a glance.

Ashrain briefly glared, as if relaying something to the Loroi around her. Her gaze lightened, focusing again on Alex. “In any case, your aid has derailed the Shells’ initial attempt to invade us. And for that, you have my respect and gratitude. And, despite the conflicting opinions about you, there are Loroi around you who have also expressed their thanks.”

Alex felt his mood lighten slightly at the news. “That’s… good to know.”

Ashrain grinned again. “Though I should warn you, you have made quite a few commanders jealous.”

Alex raised a curious eyebrow. “Jealous of what?”

“You destroyed the Stray, Protector of the Garden. An honor many commanders thought was theirs to claim.”

Alex could not help but scoff. “Guess the Loroi have their fair share of sore losers, huh?”

Ashrain chuckled. “I have heard rumors that you seem quite funny.”

“Tempo has told me that you’re a grand-niece of the Emperor.”

“Yes, her thirty-fourth.”

Alex’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Thirty-fourth?! Just how many relatives does this Emperor of yours have?”

“A great number.” Ashrain’s gaze was drawn ahead to the head of the shuttle, as if alerted. “The pilots seem to be informing us that we are preparing to enter Cry of the Wind’s hangar bay. I should return to my seat. But please accept some friendly advice as you meet the Emperor. Do not give her reason to think you are a malefactor of the Union… or you will feel her brutal vengeance.”

Alex responded wryly, “Gee, thanks.”

“I hope the next time we meet, Protector of the Garden, that it will be as full-sworn comrades.” Ashrain left to retake her seat, strapping in.

After finally docking aboard Cry of the Wind, Alex was lead, still in shackles, onto the mobile capital. The interior of the ship bore some resemblance to the design of Tempest’s interior decks, distinguished by some of its more fluid and organic designs. Every hall he passed through, every chamber he beheld, every piece of unique tech that he could not begin to fathom its functionality made him realize not just how much bigger Cry of the Wind was, but how much more advanced it seemed compared to other ships he had seen thus far.

Even the ship’s crew members bore armor and weaponry with an aesthetic and sophistication rivaling any Loroi warrior Alex had seen thus far. The Loroi of the mobile capital could not help but eye Alex as he passed them by. Some observed him with curious bewilderment. Others regarded him with uncertainty, as if he were an animal on a leash. Others glared at him with distrustful suspicion.

“This ship feels different,” Alex commented, to anyone that might care to reply, as he was lead along by his custodians.

“That is because Cry of the Wind is a young ship,” said Tempo, keeping pace with Alex. “After the Third Emperor Eighth Dawn’s imperial command ship was lost at Tinza, Cry of the Wind was constructed shortly thereafter. It serves as flag vessel of the combined fleets.”

Alex whistled. “Makes Tempest seem puny by comparison.”

“It seems more spacious,” Tempo agreed.

“So… does the Emperor come here often?”

“She resides here.”

“You mean she doesn’t live on Seren. If Seren is the sector capital, why live on the ship? Wouldn’t residing on a planet be more comfortable?”

“Emperor Greywind has made Cry of the Wind her permanent dwelling for the same reason we warriors reside on ships, Enzin. We are at war and must be at quick for action.”

“Seems risky having your whole base of operations on a space ship.”

“I suppose one might see it that way, Enzin. While a ship and her crew seem more fragile in the void, a planet’s surface is more exposed and vulnerable to orbital bombardments. Dominance goes to whoever’s fleet holds space superiority.”

Judging by the stories he had learnt from the Loroi, and the power of every alien ship he had seen thus far, Alex’s strategic mind could not argue with that.

They arrived at the mouth of another hall, where three guards in golden armor stood at attention. The one who stood in the center of the trio had a headpiece similar to Fireblade’s and no other visible weapon on her person. Alex could guess this Loroi was an Unsheathed as she walked right up to him.

This exotically clad Teidar looked old, with chiseled cheeks and pointy chin. Her hair was an electrified mane of spiky blue hair, tainted by intermittent streaks of silver and grey. A pair of violet eyes stared intently at Tempo as they shared a silent exchange. The other two golden clad Loroi came forward to Alex’s escorts and confiscated their weapons. Alex knew they were about to enter a sensitive and highly secure area.

The elder Unsheathed fixed her gaze onto Alex. Unlike the two golden armored Loroi who flanked her sides, her insignia tabs were ruby red. By this time, Alex had learnt from the Loroi that red color insignias indicated a warrior of high rank.

“You seem to be Al-ek-zan-deer… Yar-den,” she said, her voice remarkably deep. “Correct?”

Alex nodded to the golden clad Teidar. “I am. Though you might want to work on the name a bit.”

The Teidar cocked an eyebrow, looking to Tempo. Tempo instructed, “Alex, please refrain from humor. You might confuse or upset someone.”

The elder Unsheathed carried on, “I am Teidar Rozerrei Thunder Bolt. I am the commanding officer of our Azerein’s Teigo Niberadi.”

“Her what?” Alex asked.

Tempo chipped in, “The Emperor’s personal guard. They are powerful. And they are many.”

“Indeed,” Thunder Bolt asserted. “I am responsible for the Emperor’s security. I am also responsible for the protection of this ship’s Garth. Be aware that you are about to enter a highly sensitive area, with permission from her imperial highness. Any gesture or action deemed hostile will be answered with brutal force. And so I tell you: be courteous, be gentle. And we the Teigo Niberadi will show you all the tenderness we can muster. Are my words clear to you?”

Alex could not help but think that the Unsheathed’s voice strained slightly upon uttering ‘tenderness’. But complied all the same with, “Transparently, Rozerrei.”

“Good. Follow me. And do not touch anything without permission.” Thunder Bolt turned heel to lead them in.

Alex stopped her with a question, “What about the floor?”

Thunder Bolt stopped mid-step, facing Alex with a baffled look. “What?”

A smug grin stretched on Alex’s face. “You said do not touch anything without permission, Rozerrei. I feel dutifully compelled to inform you that the force induced by this ship’s inertial dampeners has the final say in dictating the direction my weight falls. While I am happy to comply with your instructions, I regret to inform you my feet cannot. So… may I have your permission to touch the floor?”

Thunder Bolt squinted her eyes in confusion. “Granted.”

“Uh, Rozerrei?”

Thunder Bolt groaned impatiently. “What now?!”

“May I also have your permission to touch the air?”

The Unsheathed barked, “Yes! Now move!”

Alex suppressed a chuckle as he followed the Teidar down the hall to a set of bulkhead doors farther in. He also could not help but hear something akin to a snicker peep out of Talon. It was heartening that perhaps the Loroi had not completely closed themselves off to him.

Tempo leaned close to Alex’s ear as they followed Thunder Bolt. “Enzin, do not try to be funny here,” she whispered.

Alex shrugged, holding up his shackled hands in submissive gesture. “It was just a question.”

“Alex, you must take this seriously,” she hissed. “Now listen to me. As you are still alien to our customs, your are not expected to show the correct salutations expected of Loroi. But proper presentation and good mannerisms are key to gaining the Emperor’s approval. So heed my advice. Do not speak unless spoken to. Avoid being humorous. It might offend someone. And most importantly, whatever you are asked, speak only the truth.”

Alex sighed. “Understood.”

The bulkhead doors swished open. Alex was forced to squint as the light of the chamber within nearly blinded him. His eyes adjusted as he crossed the threshold, dumbstruck by the sight within. Alex had sooner expected the Emperor’s chamber to be an ornate royal hall with decorated pillars, or some foreboding observatory with sinister undertones meant to intimidate visitors.

Instead he entered a garden. An actual garden full of plants, trees, and even what Alex could only guess were various forms of fungus. Among the foliage were immobile organisms that he could not even begin to find the words to describe. Alex was further surprised to find he was walking on finely trimmed grass. The garden itself was not chaotic, but neat and orderly.

Alex could have guessed that gardeners tended to this place even before he spotted a pink-clad Loroi dressed in comical attire. The gardener looked up from the flowers she was spraying to observe their newest visitor. Her visored helmet did not look like combat gear, but more resembled something akin to a nun’s coif. What Alex had nearly mistaken for bloated thighs were actually pant-leg pouches.

The further in Thunder Bolt lead Alex and his escort, the more he realized just how enormous this garden seemed. Hard to believe it even fit within this ship. Even more astounding was the holographic roof and walls, like the holographic projection of a Loroi ship’s command deck. Alex could have easily been fooled into thinking he was back on Earth as he looked up at a blue sky with white clouds slowly floating by.

There was even the occasional gust of wind flowing through the garden. Alex had so many questions as to how the Loroi so masterfully simulated this environment.

At the center of the garden was an open space of lawn. There Alex saw an assembly of small Loroi, along with a few more of the pink-dressed gardeners. The little ones looked like children. Alex was certain of it as he could distinguish a few shorter or taller than their peers. Some looked like they were engaged in play. Others seemed to be seated at a long table, most likely sharing a silent dialogue, as Alex had come to expect of Loroi. As Alex’s escort came closer, the small folk turned their gazes on him.

The closer Alex came to the little ones, the more he could distinguish their features. At first he had mistaken them for little girls. But at second glance he could distinguish their flat chests, narrow hips lacking curvaceous shape and shortly cropped hair, like the hairstyle preferred among men.

Alex realized he was in the presence of Loroi males. He dared a glance at his custodians. Talon was visibly restless, swallowing anxiously as her gaze flickered intently at each of the males. Flint, despite her attempts to stand upright and formal, seemed to also shift anxiously. Even Beryl’s scowl softened, her eyes scanning and taking in every male before her. Only Fireblade appeared unfazed by the presence of the menfolk.

One of the little Loroi, dressed in a robe with patterns of white, black and gold, approached Alex. From a distance he looked young, but with every step he came closer, Alex could see faint wrinkles etched into his face. His blue skin had a grey tone to it, much like Ashrain’s. His eyes were grey, his hair pink purple. This was no boy.

“Greetings,” the little elder said. “You are Alig-zinder Har-don, yes?”

“Not quite how I would pronounce the name,” said Alex, “but yes.”

“I am Nedatan Titennos Sage Glory. It seems formal to address me as Titennos. But, if it helps you feel more relaxed, you may call me Sage Glory. I wish to take this moment to welcome you into the Garth, Cry of the Wind’s most inner sanctum.”

Assuming a more formal posture, as he had been trained, Alex said more audibly, “Thank you, Titennos. On behalf of humanity and the Terran Colonial Authority and Scout Corps, whom I represent, it is an honor to meet you and your-” Alex did not know the proper word for colleagues. “-uh, your friends.”

The Titennos looked back at his brethren before offering Alex a gentle smile. “Yes, I suppose we are all friends.”

A few of the menfolk snickered or chuckled, likely sharing an inside joke that went over Alex’s head.

“I understand that you have just arrived after an exciting journey,” said Sage Glory.

“Exciting journey my ass,” Alex wanted to say, considering what he had endured. But all that got out was, “Quite.”

The Titennos looked at Thunder Bolt, who gave him an objectionable look. Obviously she was arguing with the little man, who stood passively and unmoved. He pointed at Alex. Thunder Bolt marched up to Alex, sneering more than instructing, “Remember my warning, outsider.”

Her eyes flashed and Alex’s shackles came undone. She picked them up, stuffing them into her leg pouch.

“A guest of Cry of the Wind should not enjoy its garden in shackles,” said Sage Glory, standing aside to stretch out a welcoming arm toward his brethren. “We would be honored if you would join us.”

“That… seems very friendly of you,” said Alex, rubbing his now free wrists and ankles. “But I’m confused. I thought I was coming here to meet the Emperor.”

“I am aware. You will have the opportunity to meet our Azerein eventually. However, due to the escalation of recent events as well as duties that require her full attention, I am afraid you will have to wait.”

Alex was incredulous. “For how long?”

“Difficult to say. Please, relax with us until she arrives.”

Alex heaved out a sigh. “Not like I got much other choice.”

Tempo meant to follow Alex along with the others, but were stopped by Sage Glory and Thunder Bolt. Alex looked back, curious as to what their silent exchange entailed. He could guess by the baffled looks on the Loroi’s faces that it must have been something serious.

“Enzin, I am afraid our presence seems to be needed elsewhere,” said Tempo. “We cannot stay here.”

Alex did not buy that. “Cannot stay here? But what’s going on?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say. But do not fret. The guards of the Garth and the Nedatans will take care of you.”

“Well… you’ll be back eventually, right?”

Tempo hugged her arms around her chest, her expression solemn. “I regret to say… I don’t know.”

That disheartened Alex.

Tempo walked up to Alex and, for the first time, touched him as she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Just remember my earlier instructions, Alex. And all will be well. I promise,” she assured him. Alex was certain she was pulling him in for a hug, but instead received a faint whisper in his ear, “Heed my warning. You must say nothing about Fireblade or the things you have seen in your dreams. Your safety depends on it.” Tempo released him, backing away and said, “It has been a pleasure and an honor traveling with you Enzin. Were it not for you, I might not still be here. You have my gratitude and my best wishes.”

“Alex,” Talon spoke suddenly. She fidgeted awkwardly, thinking of what to say. But settled for, “Good luck.”

Alex was not sure how to take that, but offered a slight grin in kind. “Thanks, Tail-wag.”

Talon scoffed through her nostrils, smirking ever so slightly.

Flint said nothing, looking away.

Beryl also looked away, her scowl still apparent as she crossed her arms.

Alex huffed out a heavy sigh, mustering up his empathy. “Beryl,” he said. “I can see you and the others are still angry at me. I understand. There’s no point in trying to defend myself or win back your favor. But… I just want you to know… I’m grateful. I’d rather suffer your scorn than part from you. Whatever you may think of me now, just know that. So thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Beryl’s scowl only deepened, her lips turning to a frown.

Guess that’s as good as it gets, thought Alex. His eyes turned to Fireblade. He still thought she was obnoxious, stubborn and insufferably unbearable. But even so. “And, uh, thank you too.”

Fireblade just stared at Alex. She did not scowl. She did not glare. She did not smile nor show any emotion. Even as the rest of her comrades were escorted by Thunder Bolt out of the Garth, her eyes remained glued on him. He wondered why. She turned, as if receiving a command, and followed her comrades out of the Garth.

Alex felt himself shrink as the only Loroi he could count as friends disappeared from sight.

Sage Glory looked up at him. “You seem dispirited, Enzin.”

“I’ve been stuck in this war for weeks now,” said Alex. “Strangely… feels like years. In that time I’ve been liberated from a detention cell, herded onto a shuttle, nearly blown up, forced to hijack another ship, again narrowly dodging certain death, finding out I’ve been misled by those I trusted, only to end up in another cell. All this I have tolerated for my mission.” A mission he was now afraid he might not fulfill.

“That a man can endure such hardships is astounding,” said Sage Glory, his tone soothing and level. “Perhaps it would alleviate your distress if you come sit with me and my brethren. Sit and share your story with us while you wait for the Emperor. Or enjoy our silent company… if that is your wish.”

Seeing nothing better to do, Alex accepted and followed Sage Glory to the small party of menfolk, along with their pink-clad guardians, as Alex saw them. He took a seat at their table, being offered noillir and what appeared to be some sort of Loroi pastry. Having sampled enough Loroi cuisine, he politely declined the food. Noillir was still acceptable, albeit best drunk in small sips. It was served in a silvery bottle, fancier than the common plastic-like bottles utilized by the warriors. Funny that the Loroi in this Garth did not use something more sophisticated like cups or glasses. Then again fluids could be hazardous in a spaceship’s environment, no matter how well its compartments were sealed.

Alex took in every blue face staring at him. He registered some recognizable expressions the menfolk and their pink dressed guardians had to offer; trepidation, uncertainty, intrigue, distrust. He had gotten used to it by this point.

Sage Glory took a sip of his noillir from a silvery bottle before saying, “Enzin, please tell us about yourself.”

“Like what?” Alex asked.

“Perhaps you could begin by telling us about your home. Tell us about the world you come from.”

“Or perhaps it was born in the void,” another male voiced.

Sage Glory’s gentle expression turned briefly sour, glaring at the male. The male seemed to flinch, as if struck by an invisible whip. The elder’s expression softened again before turning back to Alex, waiting expectantly.

“Well, uh,” Alex grunted nervously, “as news seems to travel fast among the Loroi via sanzai, I hope you’ll forgive me for reiterating what you may know already. But… I guess I could start with my home in California.”

Another male asked, “What is… Kal-ee-for-nuh?”

“It’s, uh… a coastal state. Part of a bigger nation called the United States.”

The menfolk, or at least some of them, leaned forward, listening intently to stories of nations and peoples they had never heard of before. It pleased Alex that some of the Loroi could overcome their fear of anyone unreadable to their sanzai.

Alex was half expecting Emperor Greywind to enter the Garth any moment, even as he chattered on to satisfy the menfolk’s growing curiosity. Yet Alex could not help but suspect he was going to be waiting in the Garth for a long while.

[Urist]

Hmm, that particular part of Cry of the Wind sounds familiar...

And it's always fun to see more glimpses of how things went down in your story's, uh, backstory.
> Tempo seems about to give Alex a hug
Alex: 'Huh, I guess maybe I was wrong about mizol; they can be casual too someti—'
Tempo: "Follow my instructions or you'll probably die."
Alex: '...nevermind.'

It's also neat to get more Ashrain; I'm actually partway through a story with her as the main character.

[Snoofman]

Hmm, that particular part of Cry of the Wind sounds familiar...

And it's always fun to see more glimpses of how things went down in your story's, uh, backstory.
> Tempo seems about to give Alex a hug
Alex: 'Huh, I guess maybe I was wrong about mizol; they can be casual too someti—'
Tempo: "Follow my instructions or you'll probably die."
Alex: '...nevermind.'

It's also neat to get more Ashrain; I'm actually partway through a story with her as the main character.

That "familiar" section of this latest chapter was intentionally meant to be a homage to Orion1836's Armitage fanfic.

A story about Ashrain, huh? Looking forward to it.

[Snoofman]

The Right Ship in the Wrong Place

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


Alex waited a day. The Emperor did not come. Upon Sage Glory’s request, a Nedatan by the name of Timadi Welcome Rain offered to share his bedroom with Alex. Though reluctant to fall asleep beside a male he barely knew, Alex expressed his gratitude. It felt good to lie in a large, soft, warm bed after weeks of enduring cramped cots, cold floors and pillow fortresses.

The second day Alex was taken on a tour by Welcome Rain through the Garth. Alex found the little blue hobbit to be surprisingly friendly. Rain, as Alex came to call him for convenience’s sake, bombarded Alex with questions of his own about Alex’s personal life and Earth’s culture. Rain turned out to be unusually chatty. Not that Alex minded. Rain’s benign demeanor was heartening. He even invited Alex to join his brethren for tea on the grass floor. Alex could still feel some of the menfolk regard him suspiciously, along with their pink-clad guardians.

Bellermine’s surviving possessions, that had been ferried aboard the Highland shuttle, were brought into the Garth. Save for the coffins containing Alex’s deceased crew members. The menfolk, overcoming their fear of Alex, began inquiring about the gadgets, trinkets and personal effects of Bellermine and her crew. Alex was permitted to claim a few items. He needed something to remind him of home, the home he was fighting for. The home he was beginning to terribly miss.

The Emperor had yet to arrive.

By the third day, Alex was roused by a pink-clad Loroi called Detair Mogin Frostbite. By her strict instruction, Alex was expected to act in accordance with the Nedatan’s hygienic practices. Unlike the menfolk who groomed and bathed together, Alex was afforded a private bath, much to his relief. Seemed safer for both parties. Still it felt awfully awkward with Frostbite strictly drilling him in bathing techniques. And leaving no room for debate when she bathed with him, much to Alex’s embarrassment.

After being submitted to a rather rough scrubbing, and putting up with a long stream of criticizing hisses from Frostbite when he failed to scrub her properly, the two finally relaxed in the bath. Compelled by curiosity, Alex asked Frostbite about her caste. Frostbite visibly showed her annoyance at Alex, either for his lack of knowledge or deficiencies in etiquette, but explained. The pink-clad Loroi, Detairs, were primarily caretakers for the menfolk and, by extension, their infant sons who happened to be born in the fleet. Unlike the other castes, in which Loroi were born or enrolled, the Detair caste was mostly reserved for retired female warriors. Or what could be construed as retirement, as being a warrior in Loroi society was a lifelong commitment.

Detairs were responsible for overseeing the menfolk’s every need. This included feeding, grooming and, if the need arose, mating. An embarrassing fact Alex became all too well acquainted with when Frostibite, whose only dress was bathwater streaming down her slender figure, attempted to mount him. Apparently Frostbite was not aware that human males did not require frequent mating activity like Loroi. Despite his tempting arousal clashing with his human decency, Alex briefly wrestled with an agitated Frostbite, bolting out of the bath.

A few of the other Detairs and the Nedatans rushed into the bathing chamber to see what the commotion was. And were shocked to see a naked human holding up his arms defensively, as if holding the other nude Loroi at bay like an Unsheathed with powers he clearly lacked. Alex bashfully concealed his indecency, happening to notice Rain eye him with keen interest.

After deescalating the situation and properly dried, Alex’s old Terran uniform and gifted alien garments were taken to be cleaned. Alex was swiftly fitted with a new jumpsuit, patterned with white, black and blue colors. Two downward pointing arrows were imprinted on the chest, much like the symbols each Nedatan sported. Alex could not help but compare the relevance of this icon to the rudimentary phallus, a symbol found in ancient human art and to demonstrate rank on Terran military uniforms.

The menfolk were baffled by Alex’s claim, which he shared over a calm bottle of tea on the grass floor, that humanity males did not require frequent mating activity to be of sound mind. Although it was confoundedly paradoxical to the Nedatans that human men still had strong need for sex. Alex further confused the Loroi, male and female alike, after revealing human men typically had to put an effort into attracting a women. They were further astonished that Alex had no children and had only lain with one human female in his life.

Sage Glory openly voiced, “Impressive. Many males go mad after no sex for just a day.” The chamber roared with laughter. Even Alex found that funny and quite true.

Alex in turn was shocked to learn that each Nedatan fathered hundreds or even thousands of Loroi. Sage Glory's progeny ranged in the tens of thousands. Alex whistled his astonishment. The Loroi never ceased to surprise him. Or frighten him for that matter.

The Emperor still did not come.

By the fourth day, Alex had a rude awakening when he was roused by male children snickering as they prodded him. Rain, waking shortly thereafter, shooed the little ones off. He explained to Alex that the children, apparently, were astonished by Alex’s impenetrable lotai. The children of the Garth were enthralled by this undetectable neril, seeing fit to aggravate Alex as they pelted him with soft balls from a safe distance. Alex decided to get playful too, calmly walking up to the little snickerers before unleashing a beastly roar. Which won Alex the desired effect when the little ones cried with terror, running for their Detairs. Rain, who happened to witness, could not stop laughing.

Alex and the children were forced to a sit down, viciously scolded for their immaturity. Alex was especially reprimanded verbally for showing hostile gestures. Rain came to his defense, assuring the Detairs that Alex was just playing. Upon Sage Glory’s command, Alex and the children begrudgingly apologized to one another. Alex felt a bit bad for one child in particular who would not stop crying at being reprimanded. Alex surprised the assembled Loroi when he knelt down to the child and bedazzled the little blue boy by magically plucking an American quarter out of his elongated ear. The little boy smiled, excitedly showing off the alien coin Alex gifted him.

That same boy, whose name Alex learnt was Fertile Spring, surprised Alex when he insisted on playing a song for him. Alex half expected a child’s cacophony, but graciously accepted. And was taken aback by how Fertile Spring, a boy who looked no older than six years, piped an eloquent tune with his flute. A composition conceived by none other than Fertile Spring himself.

Spring and Alex became well acquainted with each other. Alex even taught him how to play Chess, much to the little one’s delight. Spring did not seem so bad for a child. Although he had a mischievous sense of humor. This was especially apparent when Spring forwardly joked, “Welcome Rain… want you… sheathe him.”

That gave Alex reluctance to want to continue sharing a bed with Rain, but let it be. Alex considered it odd that children would be allowed in a war zone. He later learnt that each of the boys had been born within the Emperor's squadron. Hence they would be trained to fulfill a function for the war effort. Specifically to offer counsel and comfort for the Loroi brutalized by the war.

Despite the luxurious environment Alex found himself in, he could not completely relax. Each day he anticipated the Emperor to enter the Garth at any moment.

And so he patiently waited for the Emperor another day.

He waited the fifth day.

Then the sixth day.

Then the seventh.

Then the eighth.

The ninth.

Alex was growing restless. Every time he posed the question, Sage Glory would simply reply that Greywind was still occupied with duties elsewhere on Cry of the Wind. Alex asked Sage Glory to intervene on his behalf, trying to make him understand the urgency of his diplomatic mission without saying too much.

Sage Glory’s firm reply: “Military and diplomatic matters are beyond the Nedatan order’s power.”

By the tenth day, Alex was shocked to learn that the menfolk of the Garth were required elsewhere, including the boys. Alex had no choice but to remain in the Garth with a few Detairs to ensure his protection.

In spite of the presence of the Garth’s caretakers, Alex felt awfully lonesome. And growing increasingly worried. How long were the Loroi going to force him to wait like this? What was going on? And what ever happened to Tempo? To Talon, Flint, Beryl and Fireblade? Were they even still on the ship? Not even the Detairs or menfolk could answer.

More and more Alex felt the devastating weight of his mission. It was becoming more apparent with each passing day that the likelihood of him returning to Terran space was fading. In a fit of pent up anger he kicked a random alien plant, certain that the Detairs would give him hell upon discovering the damage. Alex retired to his bedroom, or Rain’s rather, and just collapsed on the mattress. He felt like he could cry, but he did not. Indeed spacers were encouraged not to cry in space, as it was regarded as a technical hazard and, when in zero-gravity, painfully obscured one’s vision.



Alex did not know how long he slept, an hour or a day perhaps. Yet he felt exhausted in more ways than one, annoyingly roused by the ringer on the bedroom door. He grumbled, forcing himself out of bed in his underwear.

Groggily waddling over to the ringer beside the door, he tapped the receiver button and mumbled into the device, “Hello… who disturbs my slumber?”

A particularly raspy voice replied, “Am I speaking with Enzin Alexander Jardin?”

Feeling too tired to care about Tempo’s earlier advice and exhausted from being cooped up in the Garth for days, Alex decided to give this stranger a sample of crude humor. “Uh, unless he’s been replaced by an imposter armed with those abominable tools of deception we call ‘spoken words’. Who wants to know?”

“I am Torrai Azerein Greywind.”

Alex froze a moment as his brain digested this new information. “Say what?”

The raspy voice repeated, “I am Torrai Azerein Greywind, fourth elected ruler of the Loroi Union, First Councilor of the Diadem, Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleets. I would like to speak with you.”

All exhaustion seemed to evaporate out of Alex’s system as he blurted out, “Oh!” He thought to open the door, but decided it was better not to present himself in front of the Emperor in his underwear. “Um, I- uh! Can I have a moment to freshen up… please?”

“Please specify the meaning of… ‘fray-sen opp’.”

Alex smacked his head for mingling up English words with Trade. He was still not fully awake. “Sorry. I mean I need to clean myself… if that’s alright with you.”

“Please be quick.”

Alex searched frantically for his old uniform. He wanted to appear as his formal, Terran self, but could not find it. He cursed, “Goddamnit, why can’t those Detairs just leave my stuff alone?!”

Settling for his new jumpsuit and swiftly zipping up, Alex inspected himself in the mirror. With the comb gifted to him by Cloud, he straightened his hair. He noticed the slight bulge on his crotch, as was apparent on every Nedatan’s uniform. He fidgeted awkwardly, trying to make that bulge look less obvious.

Walking back to the door, Alex heaved in a lung full of air, holding it a few seconds before slowly exhaling to try and slow his thumping heart. He was nervous. Mustering up his courage and assuming a formal posture, Alex tapped the button on the door.

Swish!

There she stood, on the other side of the now open threshold; a Loroi of great height, probably nearly as tall as Fireblade by Alex’s guess. She was an imposing figure clad in elaborately detailed armor, imbued with colors of violet, silver and bronze. A solemn, helmed face rested on each of her shoulder guards, enhancing her intimidating aura. Her most distinguishing characteristic was her long purple cape with streaks of grey, snaking behind her person three maybe four meters long. It took Alex a moment to realize that that cape was in fact her hair. Above her forehead sat a silver crown adorned with four holographic spires, also purple.

Alex stood stiffly, not sure whether to come out or invite her in.

She took the initiative and said, “Please approach.”

Alex swallowed and stepped out of the bedroom, also noticing the two golden armored guards standing behind the Emperor. Coming within arm’s distance, Alex could get a better view of her face. Her chin was pointy, cheeks chiseled, lips slightly grey. Alex could guess she must have been very old judging by the festoons under her eyes. Her elderly look was amplified by her pointy ears, much longer than most of the Loroi he had met thus far. Her most striking feature was her blue eyes, a very human color.

Remembering Tempo’s earlier instructions, Alex just stood and waited to be addressed. This Loroi was eerily calm, standing as firmly as a statue.

“You are Enzin Alexander Jardin,” she pronounced his name flawlessly. “Correct?”

Alex could not stop swallowing nervously. “Y-Yes, I am. Uh, Azerein!”

She surprised Alex by extending her hand, asking, “Am I correct in understanding that humans grasp hands as a formal greeting?”

“Yes.”

“Then would you do me the honor of formally greeting me?”

Alex overcame his reluctance and slowly offered the Emperor his hand. Her grasp was cold to the touch.

“The stories are true then,” she said. “You seem to feel very warm. And you seem to have an impenetrable lotai.”

Alex thought to offer his own comment, but said instead, “A-Azerein, forgive me. But, uh-” He grunted. “I understood it was not proper to speak unless spoken to first. May I… be permitted to speak more freely?”

“Only if you will come and share a meal with me.”

“That… seems awfully decent of you.”

Releasing his hand, the Emperor walked to the grass floor with Alex by her side. The guards followed close behind.

“I hope that the Nedatans and Detairs have been seeing to your needs,” said Greywind. “It seems understandable if perhaps you feel unfairly treated to being confined in the Garth. But I can only say that it was for your sake.”

After a pause, Alex took that as cue that she was expecting a response. “The Garth has been… quite a pleasant experience. The best one I’ve had so far since entering this war. Although, if I may be so bold, I would have preferred if we could have met sooner. Uh, respectfully, Azerein!”

“I too have been eager to meet you, Enzin. However, due to the escalating tensions of your arrival combined with the accumulation of unfortunate events, my focus has been needed elsewhere.”

“Well, uh,” Alex tried to come up with something to seem considerate, “Ben Franklin once said, ‘the busy man has few idle visitors.’”

The Emperor looked at Alex. “Ben… Fren-klen?”

“Uh, a founding father of the United States, Azerein.” Alex received a blank stare. “A nation on Earth. Uh, my homeworld.”

“The Listel’s observations were correct. You seem to say your dialect word, ‘uh,’ quite frequently.”

Alex suppressed another ‘uh’, grunting. “I… will try to avoid that if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Greywind held up a hand. “Please… be as you are.”

They came to the grass floor, where another golden clad Loroi with lime-colored hair was setting the long table with lidded plates and silvery bottles. She turned toward the approaching party and bowed.

“Greetings,” she said to Alex with a friendly smile. “I am Soroin Teigo Seporat Link. I am the Emperor’s personal attendant. It seems to be a pleasure to meet you. A meal has been prepared for you both.” She invited Alex to the table with a wave of her hand, pulling a seat out for him. She moved swiftly to another seat, pulling it out for the Emperor, who took her seat in turn.

Next Link removed the lid from Alex’s plate, revealing a steaming dish of what looked like dumplings, their smell surprisingly aromatic. “For our honored guest,” said Link, “we serve you a hot dish of Kabelid meaty pozets, rolled in misesa dough, fried in seed oils. Please taste.”

Seeing no cutlery, Alex just plucked one pozet with his fingers and tenderly bit into it. Half expecting that vile Soia flavor, Alex was pleasantly surprised by the pozet. Its meat tasted oddly like fermented lamb. He swallowed.

“Damn,” he said with a grin. “Best thing I’ve tasted in weeks.”

Link’s smile widened. “It seems that Delrias and humans share similar biochemistry. Hence why a portion of our Delrias food stocks have been set aside to fulfill your dietary needs.”

“Thank you, Teega- um, Teguh… Tego-so-”

“Teigo Seporat Link,” she corrected, her smile never leaving. Link moved to the Emperor’s plate, to present a cooler dish for the Emperor.

The Attendant stood to the side while the guards flanked the table. Alex almost forgot his table manners, willing himself to chew his dumplings thoroughly.

Alex could not help but peek at the strange dish Greywind was eating. It appeared to be some aquatic squid, surrounded by smaller eel-like creatures resting on a batch of crushed ice. The Emperor scooped up the little things with her fingers before slurping them into her mouth.

Greywind noticed him leaning toward her plate. “Is there a problem?”

Alex swiftly leaned back in his seat. “Oh, no. I just, uh… what is that you are eating?”

“Pickled dizo served with its hatchlings. Most enjoyable when they are chilled.”

Alex was not sure if he should be intrigued or mortified. “Huh! I could be wrong, but I think I remember Tempo telling me about some sori-like animal from Perrein that she enjoyed. And if I had to guess… you’re probably Perreinid.”

The Emperor rose an intrigued eyebrow. “How did you know?”

Alex afforded himself a chuckle. “Heh, I seem to recall Tempo mentioning that Perreinid cuisine was not very popular among most Loroi. I also remember Talon and Spiral agreeing with her.” Even after knowing her for barely a few days, he missed Spiral.

“You seem keenly observant, Enzin.” Her plate rung slightly against the table as she pushed it with two fingers closer to Alex. “Would you like to taste?”

Alex was not sure if it was rude to refuse. “That… seems awfully generous of you, Emperor. But, if you don’t mind, I prefer my food to stay in my stomach.”

“So think we all.” Her eyes suddenly glowed brilliant blue. Alex once again saw that eery aura surround Greywind. The same he saw surround Fireblade and Tempo. Her bowl moved back in front of her.

Alex could safely guess that he was dealing with a powerful Loroi. “If I may pose a question, Azerein,” said he, “I notice when Loroi like Unsheathed and Mizol use their-” he searched for the word for ‘power’. “-their sanzai lollas, it seems like the air around their heads start to glow. But I cannot be sure if it is real or just some psychological illusion.”

“What you see is no illusion,” she explained. “When Loroi use their powers, their brains release a burst of energy that passes through the skull.”

“What is this energy?”

“Bio-photons.” She slurped up the last dizo hatchling.

Alex rolled his eyes up thoughtfully and shrugged his eyebrows. “I guess that makes sense.”

They finished their meal. Greywind took a sip from her silver bottle. Alex took a sip from his own.

“What is this?” he asked, trying not to wince at the bland taste.

“Sibreg juice.” She took another sip.

“Yum.”

Greywind cocked an eyebrow at Alex. “Ee-om?”

“It’s a word we say when we think something is good.”

“I am pleased you enjoy it.”

Alex forced a smile. “Quite.” He set the bottle down on the table far from him.

“If you do not mind, Enzin, there seem to be urgent matters that we have yet to discuss.” Greywind placed her bottle down. “So I hope you will not be offended if I seem too forward.”

“Actually, I have been very eager to discuss urgent matters with you myself.”

She rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands. “I am pleased that you seem to take it seriously. So then… I will go straight to the point. Enzin Alexander Jardin, you are a member of a species called humanity. Sent by your superiors to establish contact with the Loroi for diplomatic purposes. Correct?”

Alex nodded. “Yes, Azerein.”

“MIzol Parat Tempo has brought me up to speed on recent events concerning your arrival as well as your intervention at the battle of Enedd. Do you understand by this point the severity of this war between the Loroi Union and the Umiak Hierarchy?”

Alex wondered if Tempo had mentioned everything pertaining his experiences within the Union, including his connection to Fireblade. “I believe I am beginning to see just how devastating it really is, Azerein. For the Loroi and its alien allies.”

“Indeed,” Greywind said cooly. “It has also come to my attention that, when given the option of departing for Moro aboard Prophet’s Reason, you decided instead to remain with the Loroi. Why?”

“For my mission, Azerein. And because… as I have tried to explain many times to the people around me, it is urgent that I return to my superiors in Terran space.”

“For what purpose?”

Alex said what he had already decided, “To make them understand why it is imperative we aid the Loroi in their struggle against the Umiak.”

“Ah, yes!” Greywind unfolded her hands, resting her forearms on the table. “I suspected that a humanity warrior of such low rank would not have the authority to make such an important decision. I think I understand your urgency, Enzin. And I agree with you.”

Alex was incredulous at how agreeable this Emperor was. “That’s… good to hear, your excellency.”

“However, we seem to be facing a… let us call it a tactical problem. Enzin, your ship… what was it called?”

“Bellermine.”

“Ah, yes! Was Bellermine the only ship dispatched for this diplomatic mission?”

Alex recalled he did not share with Tempo the other four vessels the TCA had dispatched. He could not be sure if it was strategically unwise to disclose such information. However, if the Loroi discovered the other vessels, it might hurt Alex’s credibility. On top of that, Alex still remembered Tempo’s advice to speak only the truth with the Emperor.

He answered, “No. There were four other scout ships sent out.”

Greywind was eerily silent, as if she were contemplating. “Well then, I hope it will comfort you to know that I have received a report from our allies farther coreward along our borders. The surviving crew of Silverspear were rescued by what seem to be your humaniti allies and granted sanctuary aboard their vessel, Matveyev.”

Alex’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Really?!”

“And, according to the report, the crew of the Matveyev have openly voiced their desire to be benefactors to the Loroi and wish to return to their territory to confirm this alliance.”

His impulse to jump and shout for joy was suppressed by his etiquette. If Matveyev was coreward of their location, then that meant the humans of that ship had a greater chance of returning home. Alex would not need to rush back to his superiors. Perhaps not all was lost. “That sounds like fantastic news to me.”

“It would seem so,” said Greywind. “But the tactical problem, as I mentioned, is that our analysts have detected the existence of a third vessel matching the markings of the Matveyev and the Bellermine. We do not know the name of this vessel. Only that it seems to have arrived at a world called Tarandos. A colony of the Lurs, one of the Hierarchy’s subjugated races.”

Alex felt his blood run cold, having an inkling suspicion of where the Emperor was leading him.

The Emperor carried on, “Enzin, apart from the crisis we now face along with the threat of invasion, there is another reason why I have not been able to meet with you sooner. We have confirmed thanks to the deceased humans held in storage aboard Highland-07 that you do not seem to be an artifice of the enemy, as many among us have insisted. However, this recent discovery of a ship matching one of your own within enemy territory has divided my Diadem. Some are calling you a spy. Others claim your nation whom you represent have duplicitous intentions; that you are here to distract us from your nation’s actual activities so that it may become more involved with our enemies. The fact that you were willingly acting secretively with a Historian construct does not help your case. Espcially now that we must call the allegiances of the Historians into question.

“Make no mistake now, Enzin. There are those among us vouching for your defense, insisting that this discovery is a misunderstanding. That and that your valiant efforts at Enedd should be proof enough of your commitment to our cause. So then… perhaps you would oblige me. Can you tell me why a ship matching a humaniti vessel has been spotted within enemy territory?”

Alex knew he was cornered. He noticed the guard on the other side of the table fidget slightly. The sound of boots crunching grass behind him did little to calm him.

If he admitted to what his mission actually entailed, it might give the Loroi more reason to keep him as an emissary between his nation and theirs. Or more justification in prosecuting him, maybe even executing him. He could choose to continue with secrecy, feigning ignorance by offering an alternate speculation. It did not necessarily have to be outright lying. But it was nonetheless deceitful. And Alex had not forgotten just how vindictive the Loroi could be over even the slightest act of deception.

“Azerein, there is, uh,” Alex grunted. “There is another reason for why I have been so urgent to return to Terran space.”

Greywind turned slightly in her seat to more properly face Alex. “Does it have to do with the presence of a humaniti vessel in Umiak territory?”

“If what your sources tell you can be trusted,” Alex thought to point out, “then quite possibly.”

Greywind rose from her seat, moving around the table. Alex felt so small as she loomed over him with that stern gaze of hers. She broke the silence, “All this sitting makes me restless, Enzin. You may elaborate as we enjoy a walk through the garden.”

[Snoofman]

Destroyer and Preserver

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As they strolled through the garden, Alex explained fully the true intentions of his mission to the Emperor.

“So,” the Emperor said, “your actual mission is to determine which side is more likely to win this war and relay that decision to your nation.”

“Technically,” Alex corrected, “our job as scouts was to observe the Umiak and Loroi in battle and form an alliance with the side we chose on the spot. An entente if you will. Then it was our responsibility to relay that decision back to our superiors within the Terran Colonial Authority. The final decision would be theirs.”

“And your superiors tasked this responsibility to all the scouts dispatched for this mission? Was this decision meant to be made by your crew’s consensus?”

“No, Azerein. Bellermine’s commanding officer at the time, Captain Carl Hamilton, and his diplomatic advisors would have had the responsibility to make that choice. All other scouts chosen for this mission were instructed that, in the event a superior officer was missing in action or killed, the decision would fall to them.”

“Is this… Tay-rahn Kal-on-al Uh-for-ity… the ruling rizelasto for all humanity?”

“No, Azerein. It’s, uh, a bit complicated to explain in Trade. Let me put it this way: the Terran Colonial Authority, or TCA for short, has only authority in interstellar matters. Earth and her colonies each have their respective governments in charge of terrestrial matters.”

“But as your mission entails interstellar matters, the final decision for alliance falls to the… Tee-See-Ay, correct?”

Alex nodded. “Essentially.”

“I see.” The Emperor stopped walking, staring off into nothing as if in contemplation. She turned, facing Alex directly. Alex turned to face her. “Well then… why do you choose the Loroi, Enzin? Because we are most likely to win this war?”

“I, uh… certainly hope so.”

Greywind’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You think we will not?”

Alex suppressed a groan, chastising himself for his poor choice of words. “What I mean is… I am beginning to grasp the dire situation the Loroi are in. I see the odds stacked against you. To a less enlightened person, the safest choice would seem to join the Umiak Hierarchy.”

Alex felt more than saw the guards glare at him. He carried on, “But… I am more concerned with how the winner of this war will treat its allies. To ally with the Umiak means selling humanity into perpetual slavery. As I have heard from the stories from the Orgus and the Loroi, the Umiak use and discard their resources in the name of industrial efficiency.”

Greywind asked, “Do you agree with that philosophy?”

Alex shook his head. “No! Such a system is simply unsustainable in so many ways. I’ve heard the rumors that the Umiak homeworld is a polluted wasteland. That and the suggestion that the Umiak take better care of their own worlds while leaving their subjects’ homes in polluted ruins gives me less reason to sympathize with them.”

Greywind’s gaze softened slightly. “Then what do you think of the Loroi?”

Alex silently formulated his opinions a moment. His answer: “I think the Loroi are… a lot like humans. Not just because of our physical similarities. After all, it’s not wise to choose an ally based on looks alone.”

“Indeed,” Greywind agreed. “How else do you think we are alike?”

“For starters, it’s reassuring to know we both laugh. Although I find some Loroi humor… inscrutable. Also I have seen how, like humans, the Loroi care about their comrades. I have seen them express sorrow and grief in times of loss. I have shared fantastic stories with them, and they with me. They have been so gracious as to share small gifts with me. I remember this one Loroi, Cloud, giving me her comb.” He snickered at the memory. “Because she thought I was not groomed.”

Greywind’s gaze remained level. “Do you have only positive opinions of the Loroi then?”

“Uh, is that a trick question?”

Greywind squinted slightly. “I do not understand.”

“Will I be punished if my answer displeases you?”

Greywind took a step toward Alex, gazing down at him. “I expect only that you be honest so that we may avoid unpleasant surprises in the future.”

Alex suppressed the urge to sigh. “Honestly… I think many humans would agree that some Loroi seem like pleasant company. But not all of them have been compassionate towards me. I have endured weeks of malicious glares, great distrust and what I can safely assume were Loroi silently considering jettisoning me into space. Even the Loroi, my friends, who were initially in charge of my safe deliverance aboard Highland-07, became… I hesitate to use the word vindictive… after finding out that I was hiding the Historian AI, Walker. You are free to judge me by my actions, Azerein. But I think it only fair that you ask yourself first, if you were in my position, would you have done any different?”

“Your point is made,” said Greywind. “Does the Loroi’s treatment toward you make you think less of us?”

“If there was… a willingness to reconcile from both sides, I’d forgive everything. What concerns me about the Loroi is how they will treat humanity.”

Greywind’s expression remained unchanged. “How so?”

“I have heard many stories from many aliens at this point concerning the Loroi. Not all pleasant. The Orgus, whom you haven’t even met yet, claimed that you were worse than the Umiak, responsible for the genocides of two alien races. This was confirmed by Rigai Mozin and his crew of Prophet’s Reason, whom expressed their dissatisfaction with the state of the war as well as their fear of the Loroi.”

“Fear of their primary protectors? Did you agree with them?”

“Allow me to answer that question with a question, Azerein. During my confinement aboard Black Razor, Tempo explained the reasons for the Loroi’s hostility toward the Mannadi and the Tithric. When you bombarded the Tithric, did it not occur to you that you were killing not only the aliens who double crossed you?”

Greywind’s eyes turned mad as she closed the gap between them, coming disturbingly close to Alex’s face. “Perhaps you refer to the innocent bystanders whom had no say in their ruling party’s decisions to make business with the Loroi’s enemies. Or the minority of Tithric who might have sympathized with the Loroi.”

Alex stood frozen under her intense glare, answering calmly, “The same, your excellency.”

Greywind withdrew two steps back, her eyes narrowing. Alex thought to face her as she began to circle him, but stood still. His gaze fell down on her purple cape of hair, the only part of her left in his line of sight as she stopped behind him.

“Why are you alive, Enzin?”

“Because the Loroi have kept me alive.”

“I am pleased that you understand that. Why have we kept you alive?”

“Maybe because you need the information I have concerning my species and my nation.”

“True. Why else?”

“Because I… and by extension the Matveyev, are your safest means of securing an alliance with humanity.”

“Are you?” Greywind’s tone turned skeptical.

“With all due respect, Azerein, can you think of any better way?”

“Why else have we kept you alive, Enzin?”

Alex blinked, resisting the urge to turn toward Greywind. “I… I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

She continued to circle back into his view, staring him straight in the eye as she said cooly, “Are you aware that I can kill you?”

Alex felt his blood chill, his hairs standing nervously on end. “The thought has occured to me.”

“Then why do I not kill you?”

Alex considered his answer carefully. “Either because you need me… or because you are afraid to kill me.”

“And why would I, a Loroi warrior, be afraid of killing you?”

It took Alex a moment to see where Greywind was leading him. “Decency,” he answered.

The Emperor’s eyes softened. “I am relieved that we understand each other, Enzin.” She continued to circle around him, her long cape drawing grass tracks in her trail. “There are many sapient aliens who think us Loroi ruthless. They call us arrogant, vicious, callous, intolerable. Believe me, I have been called far worse even before my ascension to the throne. Yet even in the face of persecution, the Loroi protect them because we are decent. Some more or less than others. Nonetheless we strive to be decent.

“Hence my point in regards to the Tithric. The atrocities inflicted upon them were anything but decent. But they were necessary for our own survival. Ours and that of every non-Loroi whom we protect. That is our burden to bear, to be destroyer and preserver. Whatever you may think of us, Enzin, no Loroi is more dangerous than a sapient without decency.”

Alex stared her levelly in the eye as she circled back in front of him. “Thank you for making that abundantly clear, Azerein. If any secretive or deceptive act on my part has seemed indecent to the Loroi, I apologize. I can only say that, like you, it was necessary for my sake and the sake of the humans whom I racing to save. I would be lying if I said I have no reservations or concerns about allying with the Loroi. You are right about one thing, Azerein. We must strive to be decent. Which brings me to my point; if humanity does choose to side with the Loroi, will the Loroi treat us humans with decency?”

Greywind was silent a moment, staring at the ground. “I… certainly hope so.”

Alex dared to step closer to Greywind, hesitating only when the guards fidgeted at his movements. Standing tall and formal, Alex spoke, “Then that is all the more reason why we must waste no time in reaching out to my nation as quickly as possible. And prevent the Umiak from beating us to it. I-” Alex formulate the best argument he could for his case. “I am… trying to see this from your point of view, Azerein. And I understand your plight. Perhaps not as fully as a Loroi. But I do understand. I also understand that, as a sapient creature immune to your telepathy and completely undetectable, it makes it difficult for you to trust me. Believe me, my race has spent eons navigating the treacherous fields of truth and deception.

“If you will believe nothing else I say, then believe this: we humans want to live as much as the Loroi do. But not as slaves to the Umiak, not to a race that will use and discard us when we have nothing left to give. That is why I insist on an alliance with the Loroi, Azerein. In spite of the terrible things you may have done, between the Umiak and the Loroi, you are more decent.”

Greywind rested her hands on her hips, silently digesting Alex’s words. “Your words sound sincere, Enzin. And you are more clever than you let on.” She lowered her hands to her sides. “Well then, here is my decision. You will not be returning to your nation, Enzin. But I hope it will offer some relief to know that we will relay your decision to the crew of Matveyev, who we will send back to your nation with a protective escort post haste, so that they may encourage your government to accept an alliance with the Loroi. May it also alleviate your worries to know that, so long as humanity strives to be a productive and trustworthy ally, then I promise this alliance will be the beginning of good things between your people and mine.”

Hearing Greywind refer to humans as people offered Alex some relief. “Awfully decent of you, Azerein,” he said with a sigh.

Greywind approached Alex with less of an intimidating aura, her gaze absent of hostile intent. “And, by the authority vested in me, I grant you a full pardon of any past transgressions in consideration of your aid to the Loroi and the hardships you have endured for the sake of your diplomatic mission. Eventually you will be brought before the Council to officially pledge yourself to the Loroi Union. There will also be a promotion ceremony in your honor.”

That took Alex aback. “Promotion ceremony?!”

“You have made a number of Torrais jealous after destroying the Stray, Enzin. As you are clearly a competent combatant as well as a genial tactician, the fleet has great need of such warriors. Your former position as military attache is restored. Following the ceremony, you will officially be acknowledged as Commodore, with the right to captain your own vessel and granted command over your own squadron. Provided you swear allegiance to the Diadem and to me.”

“Swear allegiance?!”

Greywind’s eyes narrowed again. “Do you object?”

Alex held up his hands defensively. “Uh, no, Azerein! Just… all this feels very rushed.”

“We are at war, Enzin. We must rush.”

“I understand. And… I will comply.”

Greywind’s gaze softened again. “Good.” She turned to her guards and attendant. They bowed before leaving her alone with Alex. Greywind stepped closer, lowering her voice, “There is one more matter, Enzin. Tempo has shared with me the secret of your bond with Fireblade. Have you told anyone else?”

Alex shook his head. “No. Truly I haven’t.”

“Good. Then it must remain this way.”

Alex squinted in confusion. “Um, Azerein, I don’t understand. Why the secrecy? I thought Loroi telepathy was direct and truthful. Wouldn’t other Loroi eventually find out?”

“Let it suffice to say that a Loroi’s sending can omit truth while concealing a secret. The trick is not getting caught.”

That only left Alex with more questions. “But I need to know why. Why keep it secret?”

“The reasons are many and complicated,” was all Greywind admitted. “Perhaps it may prove unnecessary when we meet more members of your race, Enzin. For now, however, it is for your safety that this information remain secret.”

Alex wondered if this was the ‘mortal danger’ Walker was actually referring to. That his link with Fireblade somehow threatened the Loroi. But laid it to rest for the time being. “I understand, Azerein. Of course, I would appreciate if you elaborate on these reasons eventually.”

“In due time. You are also welcome to direct these questions towards Tempo. I trust you will be discreet. ” said Greywind. She looked to her beeping wrist-comm. “They have arrived and are just entering the Garth.”

“Who?”

“Come and see.”

Alex followed the Emperor back to the grassy courtyard where, to his astonishment, Tempo, Talon, Flint, Beryl and Fireblade stood, waiting.

“While I relay your regards to the Council,” Greywind said to Alex, “you should enjoy some time with your companions.”

“Enjoy-” Alex looked surprisingly to the Emperor and to his friends. “Uh, Azerein, not to sound ungrateful, but do we really have time for this?”

“Patience, Enzin. In war, we never know if the next moment will be our last. So... enjoy your time. You will be called upon when your presence is required.”

The Emperor’s guards and attendant rejoined Greywind, following her out of the Garth. Alex was left with the first Loroi companions he made on his journey. For a moment neither party did anything, just standing awkwardly in silence.

Until Beryl struck up the courage to approach Alex first. All trace of vindictive sourness was gone. She held her hands formally in front of her pelvis. “Greetings… Alex,” she said, voice gentle.

“Um, hey,” Alex said in kind. The two’s voices overlapped as they tried to speak. “Oh, sorry! Um, you first, Beryl!”

“Thank you, Alex. I want to apologize to you.”

That surprised Alex. “Apologize?!”

“Yes. I was angry with you before following the discovery of your possession of the Historian Construct. I became so bitter that I failed to consider your actions from your perspective. I nearly forgot my original duty to watch over and protect you.” She bowed her head. “I am sorry. If you feel betrayed by my neglect, I do not blame you. It is… difficult to forgive betrayal.”

Alex scoffed, a great weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He shocked the small party of Loroi, and Beryl as he took her into a huge bear hug. “I’d forgive you a hundred times, Beryl. Then a hundred times more.”

Beryl’s lips quivered as she overcame her shock, burying her head into his shoulder. “Forgive me, Alex,” she nearly cried. “I was such a bitter fool.”

“Heh,” Alex laughed. “I was fool to go on this mission. But here we are.”

Beryl laughed with him, enjoying the warmth of her alien friend. The rest of the Loroi came forward as well.

“Move aside, Listel,” Talon practically shoved Beryl off. “It is our turn for warm embracing.”

“Hey there, Biscuit Graveyard,” Alex mumbled with a grin.

“Hello, deceptive male! You look good in that Nedatan uniform.” Talon threw her arms around Alex, hugging him tighter than he her.

“Yes, yes,” Alex groaned under her squeeze. “Feeling the love, Talon! You can let go now!”

Flint approached next. “It is good to be reunited with you, Enzin. And, if you would have it, I also apologize and would like to continue guarding you.”

Flint was shocked as Alex pulled her into a hug too. “Welcome back, Flint.”

Fireblade came after, stopping just within arm’s reach of Alex. Tempo spoke on her behalf, “Fireblade directs me to say that she still does not trust you.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, offering a wry grin. “Thanks, Red. You haven’t lost your charm.”

Fireblade rolled her eyes. Tempo said for her, “But… she wishes you to know that she is impressed by your actions at Enedd and your choice to help the Loroi. And she will remain committed as your protector if you will allow it.”

Alex cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you really mean that, Fireblade? Or is Tempo filtering your words?”

Fireblade rolled her eyes, groaning more with her breath than her voice. She pointed to herself, then to her eyes, then to Alex.

Alex got the message. “I will accept under one condition.” He put forth his hand. That earned him a reluctant look from Fireblade. “Red, if you’re not going to say it with words, you have to prove it with action. That’s how we humans do things. Now… will you please shake my hand in friendship?”

Fireblade’s blue hand slowly reached out, withdrawing briefly before she clasped just the tip of Alex’s fingers, wobbling and tugging and shaking them in random directions per his instruction.

“Good enough,” said Alex, his grin unfaltering as Fireblade released his hand.

Finally Tempo approached him. “I am pleased the Nedatans and Detairs have been treating you well.”

Alex shrugged. “Quite.”

Tempo turned to her comrades. “I must share a word alone with Alex. You four prepare us some tea and refreshments. We will join you shortly.”

“Wait!” Talon objected. “Who says we have to prepare the refreshments?”

“Your superior officer,” Tempo said more sharply. “Me.”

Talon pouted as she was ushered along by Beryl. The others followed suit.

Tempo sighed, turning her focus back to Alex. “Tabenids. Fearless yet defiant. I am relieved that your interview with the Emperor went well, Enzin.”

“Interview?” said Alex. “Interesting choice of word. How would you know?”

Tempo crossed her arms. “The Emperor relayed it to me as we entered the Garth.”

“Wait! You mean Greywind shared the details of our interview with you while you were in the presence of the others?”

“It is proper to address her as Emperor Greywind,” Tempo corrected. “Or simply Azerein. But yes.”

“Whatever happened to secrecy? The others would have picked it up.”

Tempo raised a reassuring hand. “They have not, Enzin. While Loroi typically broadcast their sanzai, one can also send discreetly to specific Loroi while leaving others within our detectable range unaware.”

“You mean… like tuning a radio frequency?”

“I suppose that is a reasonable comparison.”

“You Loroi never cease to surprise me.”

Tempo grinned. “You still have much to learn about the Loroi and the full capabilities of sanzai, Enzin. And perhaps, with time, we may unravel the mystery concerning your ability to bond with Fireblade in the dreamscape.”

“Which brings me to my next point.” Alex lowered his voice to a whisper. “The others found out about my connection to Fireblade aboard Prophet’s Reason. Yet no one seems to have demanded an explanation on the matter. How have you and the Emperor kept it secret?”

“Because, before departing Prophet’s Reason, I suppressed their memories concerning those details,” Tempo pointed out.

“What do you mean, ‘suppressed’?”

“Skilled Mizols like myself have the ability to convince a Loroi to bury certain memories deep within her subconscious mind.”

This surprised Alex further. “Even Fireblade’s?”

“For the time being.” She could see Alex’s uneasy expression. “I understand if my abilities frighten you, Enzin. But I assure you I do not abuse them. Indeed there are codes of conduct for how a Mizol may use her powers of influence.”

Alex was not entirely sarcastic as he mumbled, “Oh, that’s comforting.”

“You have been steadfast in your forbearance. Now come. Let us rejoin the others and enjoy some tea.” They made their way to the long table. Tempo spoke less discreetly, “You should also know, Enzin, the Nedatans are bound to return soon. And the Emperor has graciously granted us mating encounters, along with some other members of the crew. Which means the atmosphere of the Garth is about to become… quite arousing.”

“I see,” said Alex, feeling his face heat up.

“I am still struggling to understand your race’s taboos concerning sexual activity,” Tempo admitted. “Nonetheless I feel dutifully obligated to inform you, if you are not comfortable in the presence of Loroi engaging in sex or who express a desire for sex, please stay out of sight for the evening.”

Alex offered her a two fingered salute. “Dually noted.”



The Garth’s holographic ceiling dimmed, simulated daytime turning to dusk and eventually to night. By that time, dozens of Loroi had flooded into the Garth. Apparently the next few days would see the switching out of the Cry of the Wind’s crew, in which each shipmate would take alternating shifts to ensure that all had their chance to lie with a Nedatan.

As Alex learned, some Nedatans accepted several visitors at a time. Others were more comfortable enjoying an evening with just one mate. The Loroi had the sensibility to do it in the Nedatan’s bedrooms, the noise of their exploits numbed by the insulation of their walls, much to Alex’s relief.

Alex himself decided to enjoy the evening with Beryl, finding great comfort in reconnecting with a friend he formerly feared had forsaken him. They had set up a pillow fortress over a floor blanket, on which they lay, looking up at the stars.

“For a holographic ceiling,” Alex commented, his head on a pillow, “the view is surprisingly soothing.”

“So humans also enjoy the view of a night sky?” Beryl asked, lying beside him. “Perhaps there is more to our similarities than meets the eye.”

Alex huffed out a chuckle. “Maybe there is. I feel good tonight. For the first time in weeks, I feel genuinely at peace.”

Beryl turned her gaze to him. “Why?”

“Why?” said Alex. “I just had a successful talk with the Emperor. The alliance between humanity and Loroi is at better odds of being secured. And, the best part, we’re alive to see it happen.”

“I suppose that is reason to be happy,” Beryl admitted with a smile. “I am most eager to meet more humans. To learn more about humanity’s history and culture.”

Alex and Beryl were momentarily alarmed from a cry from one of the Nedatan’s rooms. But relaxed, safely assuming it was nothing more than lascivious moans from the Loroi’s very physical activities.

“Out of curiosity,” said Alex, settling back down onto his pillow, “why aren’t you mating tonight?”

“Well, I do not have the need to,” Beryl replied. “I already have a son who resides safely on Mezan.”

“Yeah, well, I guess then-” Alex sat up in surprise. “Wait a bima! You have a son?!”

“Yes,” Beryl said with a smile. She sat up too, tapping her wrist-comm to bring up an image of a young Loroi who looked nothing less than a young, boyish version of herself.

“Boy,” said Alex. “He looks just like you. What’s his name?”

“Silver Moon, in remembrance of the ship my mother served aboard.”

“Looking past the morbid details, that is rather sweet. So you’re not interested in mating at all then?”

“Mating for Loroi is primarily for reproduction, Alex. And, in a more traditional sense, has been a way to seal alliances between familial clans.”

“So Loroi don’t mate for pleasure?”

“There is lots of pleasure involved. Indeed we might not seek it out if there was none. Alex, I cannot help but observe you seem unusually relaxed discussing sexual matters with me all of a sudden.”

“That’s because other Loroi are desperate to see me naked, like Talon. You on the other hand make me feel relaxed. Fireblade too, I suppose… if she’s not staring me down with her terror eyes.”

Beryl snickered. “Terror eyes! That is rather funny. In the interest of science, do humans mate for pleasure?”

Alex shrugged. “If we’re not out to make babies, then yeah. Pretty much.”

“But why? If humans are not coital for reproduction, what’s the point?”

Alex sputtered his lips as he formulated an explanation. “Remember when you lectured me about how Loroi achieve intimacy through sanzai?”

“Yes.”

“Well, humans are not so different from Loroi in the sense that we also seek intimacy. Intimacy can be found in the comfort of friends or family. But usually, the most powerful form of intimacy is found through a mate. Usually through a life-long partner.”

“You mean like pair-bonding?”

Alex shrugged. “Essentially.”

“Strange! And you claim this intimacy is achievable without sanzai?!”

“Of course. It’s all part of nature.”

Beryl could not conceal her amazement, resting a thoughtful finger on her chin. “How paradoxically astounding!”

Alex could tell she was deep in thought as she just sat on her knees, especially when she glanced at him before swinging her gaze away. “I know that look, Beryl. What are you thinking about?”

“Alex,” her tone was hindered slightly by some reluctance. “How do pair-bonded humans achieve intimacy?”

“With physical contact, obviously.”

“In what manner?”

Alex gave Beryl a quizzical look. “You’re a scientist who has gotten physical with a male once upon a time. And you’re asking me how it’s done? Surely humans and Loroi aren’t that dissimilar.”

Beryl cast her gaze askance, embarrassed. “Forgive me. It’s a silly question.”

“No, Beyrl, I’m sorry. Ugh, the way pair-bonded humans get intimate is… other than outright mating… is by, well, kissing.”

Beryl looked back at Alex. “Kissing?”

“Yeah. You know, on the lips! Are you saying Loroi don’t kiss on the lips?”

“Ah, yes! Actually we do kiss on the lips when we mate. Though, now when I think about it, many Loroi scientists do not understand the logic behind it. As I said, intimacy is achieved through sanzai. We regard kissing more as an instinctually sexual behavior than a need to be intimate. It seems enjoyable… we just don’t know why.”

“I see.”

Beryl turned on her legs to more properly face Alex. “Alex, I hope I do not offend you, but… my curiosity compels me to ask. Would you… kiss me?”

Alex’s eyebrows flashed wide open. “Huh?”

Beryl’s cheeks blushed dark blue. “Would you kiss me on the lips? For science!”

Alex fluttered his eyes, baffled. “I don’t follow.”

“You claim that human intimacy is best achieved through physical contact, especially kissing. I would like to see for myself if that’s possible. Unless… you’re not comfortable with that?”

Alex was unsure how to proceed. “Um, well-”

Beryl cast her gaze down, embarrassed. “I have made you uncomfortable. Forgive me. Pay it no mind!”

“No, wait! I didn’t mean- Ugh! I guess… if it’s for science… we could try.”

Beryl’s eyes filled with hope. “Really? Will you show me the proper method then?”

Alex grunted, guiding Beryl to stand on her knees so they came closer to one another. Her smoky vanilla smell filled his nostrils as their faces came closer. He cautiously guided her hands to rest on his shoulders and his hands on her hips.

“So then,” he said, centimeters away from her face, “some humans start off intensely when they kiss. But one of the safest and most comfortable methods is by starting off slowly, gently.”

Beryl’s voice lowered to a tender tone, “I am ready. Show me.”

Swallowing down his nervousness, Alex cautiously pecked at Beryl’s lips. And she pecked back, mimicking his movements. His lips tenderly sampled hers, before firmly pressing against her. They broke away, Beryl’s eyes flickering across Alex’s face.

“Your lips feel very warm,” she commented.

“Yours feel very cold,” Alex replied.

They carried on, taking bolder samples of each other’s lips until they began outright smacking. Alex, no longer held back by discomfort, allowed his hands to navigate around Beryl’s waist, firmly pressing into her back. Beryl’s arms in turn encircled more around his neck, as if to ensnare him. So engrossed he was that Alex nearly forgot Beryl’s original purpose, breaking his lips away from hers with an audible pop. He willed his heaving back to normal breath.

“So, um,” Alex struggled to find his chain of thought, “what’s your… uh, analysis?”

“It seems,” Beryl struggled as well to find the words to describe her experience, “familiar. Yet in a new way. More… invigorating. I feel… aroused… excited… content even.”

“I see,” Alex whispered. “Do you want to stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh hell! Let’s do it for science.”

Beryl dove back in, her blue tongue analyzing the warmth and feel of Alex’s mouth, the taste of his saliva and red flesh. She broke away to disclose her findings with heavy breathes. “Amazing!” she gasped. “I feel as if I am in the presence of an actual Loroi male. And yet,” gasp, “there is no sanzai! How can intimacy be achieved without sanz-” She was cut off as Alex sealed her lips with another kiss. She cut him off again, but this time because of a disturbance. “I sense Talon approaching.”

Alex threw his head back, groaning aggravation. “I thought she was having a mating encounter tonight.”

“She was.” Beryl’s eyes went wide as she registered another presence. “And she is not coming alone!”

Alex was surprised to see Welcome Rain walking beside Talon as they approached, dressed in loose-fitting robes.

“Hello, Alex,” Talon said with a particularly large smile.

“Hello, Alex,” Rain chimed with a more sultry smirk. “And what are you and the Listel doing?”

Alex’s answer came swiftly, “Science!”

“Really?”

Alex and Beryl awkwardly released each other, scooting away bashfully. “Uh, I thought you too were supposed to be having a mating encounter tonight?”

“Yes, we have been,” said Talon, encircling her arms around Rain’s shoulders. “And it has been very special for me. Welcome Rain is the first male to penetrate me. He may be no warrior, but he wields a mighty blade.”

“And Tabenids are as the stories say,” Rain added. “As wet and as salty as the sea.”

Talon chuckled, nuzzling her nose into Rain’s neck. “Not as salty as your-”

“Okay!” Alex cut them off with a raised voice. “I think you’ve shared enough. Thank you for your visual descriptions. I’d hate to interrupt, but time is fleeting, especially during a war. Which is why you two should go back to Rain’s place and make the most of your breeding session before the night is out. For you see, when you’re having fun, time flies fast.”

Rain and Talon knelt down onto Alex’s and Beryl’s spot. “Your spoken words are poetic, Enzin Alexander Jardin” said Rain. “They arouse me.”

Alex froze as Rain rested his fingers on his knee. “Okay, I’m very confused. What is happening?”

“Alex,” said Talon, leaning closer toward him along with Rain, “we want you to join us.”

“Excuse me?!” Alex fell back, vainly retreating into the floor as Rain and Talon loomed over him with hungry intent.

Rain shamelessly clutched Alex’s shoulder, his sultry grin never leaving his face as he said, “We would like you to mate with us.”

Alex swung his frightened gaze left and right between the Nedatan and Tenoin flanking him. “As in… both of you… at the same time?”

Talon offered a droll smile. “How else, you silly humaniti creature? Welcome Rain is my first. You should be my second.”

“Look, I, uh-” Alex shrunk under their lustful gazes. “I’m flattered, but I’ve never done it- I’m not ready- Look, Rain, you’re really nice, but you look young enough to be a-”

“I must object,” Beryl cut in. “For a Nedatan to engage in coital activity with an alien, even if he is an honored ally, is restricted-”

She was cut off as Rain rose to plant his lips over hers. “It is not officially restricted for humaniti males… yet,” said Rain. “All the more reason why we should seize the opportunity now before such a restriction can be imposed. You are also welcome to join us, Tozet.”

Beryl’s blush extended to her elongated ears. She swallowed nervously. “I… well-” She looked toward Alex. “Alex, you… should not feel forced to consent if you seem uncomfortable. Are you?”

Alex awkwardly wheezed out, “Um…”

[wolf329]

"We saw you from across the Garth, and we like your vibe."

[Snoofman]

"We saw you from across the Garth, and we like your vibe."

Bow chicka honk honk!

[Snoofman]

Author’s note: I changed in the chapter, The Interview, that Greywind, instead of giving Alex the choice of return home, insisted on him staying with her. Seems to make more sense.

I am struggling to formulate the next couple of chapters, so bear with me when I say... there might not be a new post for some time. But it IS coming!



The Interview Carries On

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Alex left out the more illicit details of his stay within Cry of the Wind’s Garth during his interview with the Confederates.

Admiral Kella continued her query, “After you were sworn into Emperor Greywind’s service, what did you do?”

“What was expected of me,” Alex explained. “As a newly appointed commodore, I began my service in aiding the Loroi in their hit-and-run attacks along the Steppes. But under the condition that, should the strike groups I assisted fall in battle, I was required to return back to the Emperor’s task group. Fortunately for me and my comrades at the time, that proved unnecessary. Following the Stray’s failed campaign and the Mirror Incident, we noticed the Umiak’s attacks along the Steppes were weakening. Later intel confirmed that the Umiak had lost a considerable chunk of their reserves and were switching primarily to defensive strategies, sending only scouts to probe the Steppes for opportunities.”

“Is that all you did?” Kella asked. “Just fight for the Loroi?”

Alex shook his head. “No. As a military attache and diplomatic officer, I was expected to make frequent visits to the mobile capital to report directly to Greywind, update her on my squadron’s state of affairs. With the eventual arrival of the official human diplomats and the TCA’s navy, I served part-time as a commissioner of sorts, helping to cultivate friendly relations between the humans and Loroi serving within the Emperor’s fleet.”

Alex turned a grateful eye to his comrades. “My own personal squadron was perhaps the most receptive in our educational programs and became the most understanding towards humans.” That earned him a few smiles from the Loroi. He carried on, “Apart from that, Greywind required another service of me. Often we would have private conversations in which she posed many questions about me and humanity in general. Even after the human diplomats shared their watered-down tales of human history and the current events concerning Earth and her colonies, Greywind wanted to learn as much as possible about the human race through me. One might say it became something of an obsession to her.”

Kella raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Would it be reasonable to say that you formed something akin to a friendship with the Emperor?”

Alex shrugged slightly. “There were definitely some reservations about fully trusting each other, as is to be expected of two members of different nations. But most of these reservations eroded with time. So… yes, I suppose we did become friends… for a time.”

“Director, as you came to better know and understand Emperor Greywind, what were your thoughts of her?”

Alex took a moment to formulate his thoughts. “Greywind… was not the kind of emperor I was expecting to deal with. A lot of her opponents, Loroi or otherwise, accused her of warmongering, employing unorthodox practices and being politically extreme. Yet the more time I spent with Greywind, the more I came to better understand her. Greywind was, for lack of a better term, a pragmatist. Granted she was a politician with a history of working for the Loroi equivalent of Black Ops or a shady intelligence agency. I was not ignorant of the possibility that she could be a master of manipulation, that she could be just putting on a mask to conceal a more sinister character. But unlike many Loroi who were xenophobic to a fault, Greywind had an appreciation for alien cultures, having worked in a diplomatic caste for so long and dealing with aliens more frequently than most. She was not a Universalist, but she understood the importance of acknowledging the needs of the Union’s aliens.”

“You make it sound as if Greywind were agreeable,” Kella commented.

Some of the Loroi within the hall audibly snorted.

Alex could not help but chuckle. “Greywind’s agreeableness fell short of her vindictiveness, as I came to learn. She was obsessed with the Traditionalist view of upholding the central authority of Deinar, on which the bulk of Loroi sovereignty is founded. She was also insecure about loyalty. You had to be vocal about being her ally, or at least to the Union. Which could explain why she felt justified in enforcing the anti-neutrality policy. Beyond that, she did not take kindly to anyone that she thought was trying to undermine her policies. In her mind, you could either help her or stand aside. But if you chose to get in her way, she would not hesitate to eliminate you if a deterrent proved too costly. I… watched her dispose of quite a few opponents within the Union, Loroi or otherwise,” Alex admitted uncomfortably. "I tried to rationalize that these aggressive actions were necessary for the war and for the sake of the Union. And yet... it made me question the sympathy Loroi had for other aliens. As Tempo once told me, Loroi history is one of endless bloodshed. Only the law and honor temper their worst impulses." He looked to his Loroi comrades. "No offense."

“Director, are you saying that you grew disillusioned with Greywind?" Kella asked.

Alex silently considered his answer a moment. “During the Forward Campaign, I began to see just how brutal the Loroi could be as they overtook one star system after the other. Mostly against the Umiak. The Hierarchy’s other subjected races, or at least some of them, were spared some of the brutality. I hoped, following the end of the Forward Campaign, that humanity’s aid in the war would compel the Loroi to see us humans in a more positive light. Some did. Yet even after all we did for the Union, many Loroi were not shy about their disdain for humans, outright calling us animals. It was my closest Loroi friends and Greywind I felt safest around. And being in the Emperor’s good graces offered me a certain level of immunity from the Loroi’s prejudices. On top of that, Greywind was vocal about her desire for peaceful relations with the Terrans.”

“Director, if you felt safe around Greywind, why flee then?”

“As I said earlier, I had a friend in trouble.” Alex looked again at Fireblade, who gazed right back. “It was at the Umiak homeworld, where the Emperor hosted her victory ceremony, that I eventually learnt a terrible truth.”

[Snoofman]

Shell Shocked

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Nearly five years.

That is how long Alex had been fighting the Hierarchy, been aiding the Loroi. Yet in his mind, it felt like fifty.

Nearly five years of hit-and-run tactics. Nearly five years of educating himself to be a proper Commodore for the Union in the heat of battle. Nearly five years of watching fleets be decimated and worlds burn. Nearly five years of watching his comrades, human and alien alike, die. Nearly five years of clinging to hope as the Union’s and TCA’s casualty rates declined and the Hierarchy’s skyrocketed. Nearly five years of fighting someone else’s war.

With the digital corruption and decimation of the Hierarchy’s interstellar channels as well as the cyberattacks that sent Hierarchy ships into disarray, or indefinitely into negative space, the Umiak’s command and control network collapsed. The death of the Hierarchy’s most senior commanding officers in the battles that followed humanity’s arrival and official siding with the Loroi destabilized the Hierarchy’s military. Such disorder made Umiak ships easy kills for the Loroi.

This gave the Loroi the opportunity it needed to formerly welcome the commanders of the TCA, all eager to meet the Loroi at the negotiating table, following the successful return of ECS-175 Matveyev to Terran territory. The dialogues both races shared thereafter sealed their alliance, incorporating the TCA navy as well as Terran private armies willing to give aid for the promise of rich salvage. Furthermore it became necessary for an official board of Terran Admirals to be established to more effectively manage and organize the slowly growing Terran fleet. Thus within the first year of Alex’s time within the Union, the TCA Admiralty and the Diadem officially commenced Project Forward, the Loroi’s most brutal military campaign in which the combined human and Loroi fleets would push relentlessly into Hierarchy territory, overwhelm the remaining Umiak navy at its most vulnerable state.

The carnage the Loroi unsheathed upon the Hierarchy’s worlds along its anti-spinward borders reached apocalyptic proportions during the first year of Project Forward. And while most Loroi and members of other races felt justified in this brutality, not all Unionists wanted to see total destruction come to the sapients of the Hierarchy for various reasons, no matter the atrocities of Hierarchy Taskmasters. The Emperor did not take the Alien Assembly’s petitions for fair treatment against the conquered Hierarchy members seriously until two years into the Forward Campaign, in which she promised leniency to all members of the Hierarchy who laid down their arms. Yet even so, the Loroi’s brutal onslaught continued and would not stop until the enemy’s unconditional surrender. By the third year, the Loroi Battle Fleet had finally pushed its way far enough to overwhelm and overrun the Umiak homeworld, Kkukit-tikhal.

Project Forward’s endgame was to continue its offense, fanning out across Hierarchy territory until the Loroi Battle Fleet had beaten every shred of the Hierarchy’s naval might, taking every one of its worlds or resources intact or atomizing them to rob the Hierarchy of strategic advantage. But the Diadem’s hope was that, by laying siege to the heart of the Umiak Empire, the rest of the worlds would eventually be forced to capitulate.

When the rest of the Hierachy colonies and disorderly remnants of the Umiak Fleet further spinward refused to yield, the Emperor squeezed the heart of their Empire. Kkukit-tikhal suffered relentless orbital bombardments as the Loroi laid waste to all of its industrial centers, targeting their population centers only when Mizols screening the planet found too little traces of meaningful infrastructure left to be disintegrated.

Despite the alien ambassadors discomfort at this apparent ruthlessness, they knew they were powerless to stop the Loroi. Even the majority of human soldiers and members of the Admiralty, who mostly regarded the Umiak as heartless bugs, were shocked by the Loroi’s ferocity.

After months of relentless cannonade, the Umiak Martinets, who had been safely bunkered throughout the cataclysm, hailed the Loroi in orbit, begging for a ceasefire. Torrai Soshret Sunfury saw to it personally that the Umiak planetside were granted use of their command and control network and, under the Loroi’s scrutiny, broadcasted the Hierarchy’s surrender. Taskmasters and commanding units across the rest of Hierarchy territory slowly laid down their arms, commanding their subordinates to do the same. Only a few strays refused the orders, taking whatever remained of their now divided and dwindling strike groups farther coreward up the Orion Arm or rimward toward the Taurus Dark Cloud.

After thirty years of total war, the Umiak Hierarchy surrendered under the condition and hope that the Loroi would show mercy. Shortly thereafter, Cry of the Wind along with the First Guard Fleet arrived in orbit of Kkukit-tikhal. On the surface of Umiak’s Empire, Emperor Greywind met in person with the subdued members of the Martinet Council and officially accepted its surrender.

Most Martinets were executed thereafter for their involvement in the war. And so the victorious Council sent out invitations to select members of the Loroi Admiralty hailing from every sector fleet, and most especially to the closest friends and relatives of the Emperor, to come to Kkukit-tikhal where a grand victory ceremony would be hosted. Certain members of the Alien Assembly would also attend to witness the official end of the Great War.

Among those invitees was every crew member of Checkmate Squadron.



Every member of Checkmate Squadron was not technically off-duty following their arrival to Kkukit-tikhal. Rather the warriors under Enzin’s command were being reassigned, called down to the planet’s surface to participate in ceremonial activities, as was expected of all invitees. The ships of Checkmate Squadron were safely dry docking at the Citadels towed into system following the fall of Umiak’s Empire.

Alex was surprised at the landscapes of the Umiak homeworld as he and his crew were transported to their destination. Contrary to the rumors that Kkukit-tikhal was a barren, polluted wasteland that the Umiak drove into ruination, the truth was that following the near ruination of their planet’s climate, the Hierarchy devoted resources extracted from offworld to subsidize restoration programs. And while some sections of the planet still suffered major pollution, the majority of Kkukit-tikhal’s residents lived comfortably in paradise.

“I am shell shocked,” said Alex, looking out the power beitar’s window at the rocky mountain ranges they drove through.

“Are you trying to be humorous, Alex?” Beryl asked, sitting ahead of him.

“I was expecting a nightmarish dump when we got here. Not gorgeous mountain ranges or pristine cities. Or at least those not leveled during the orbital bombardments.”

“There seems to be speculation regarding the Umiak’s exploitation of other worlds,” Tempo explained. “According the Emperor’s Losats, the Martinets of the Hierarchy Capital used their policies as well as the ruse of their homeworld being a ruinous place to deter their subjects from knowing the truth about their luxurious way of life, alien and Umiak alike.”

“You mean that was the whole point of the Shells’ expansion?” Talon asked skeptically.

“All civilizations expand for a variety of complex reasons, Mallas. But… convincing one’s subjects not to go to a place worse than their circumstances is a clever way of keeping a clean habitat all to one’s self.”

Fireblade scoffed.

Beryl said, “Fireblade says, ‘True until the illusion falls away.’”

“Well put, Pallan,” said Alex. “Would sound even better if you would be so kind as to grace us with your lovely voice.”

Fireblade extended her middle digit in his direction. The same gesture she learnt from him.

Alex offered a humorous smirk. “Love you too, Red.”

“Alex, what name do you think Azerein will give the Shell’s homeworld?” Talon asked.

“That is Mazeit Alex, Mallas Talon,” Tempo corrected.

“Stop harassing us, Mother,” Talon shot back.

“That is Parat to you!”

“Guys,” Alex urged them to calm. “Remember, it’s just us. No formalities when it’s just us.”

Talon smiled at her casual superior. “This is why we should have more humans serving in our squadron. Anyway, Alex, what do you think Azerein will call this world?”

Alex shrugged. “Don’t know. Though it should be significant.”

Talon rolled her eyes in a surprisingly human way. “Obviously.”

Flint, who had been silent most of the journey, spoke, “How about Marradras Digit?”

Tempo cocked an odd eye at Flint. “Shell Fissure?”

Flint shrugged with her hands. “We Loroi left a permanent mark on their world. It seems fitting enough.”

“It seems dull and unpoetic,” Beryl countered.

“Saszet, what know you of poetry?”

Beryl scowled as Flint and Talon chuckled.

“Wait!” Talon interjected. ”I have a better name. I dub this Shell world, Sotezit Digit!”

Alex burst into laughter. “Shit Crack?! That’s worse!”

Talon laughed with him. “Why? It’s a good name. Lots of the Tenoins already call it that!”

“Tabenids’ humor seems worse than humanity’s,” Tempo commented.

Alex scoffed out a chuckle. “Well, that’s not a very diplomatic thing to say!”

“And I thought we were meant to behave casually here.”

The driver spoke back to the small party, “Attention, Commodore! Arriving at the Capital City!”

“Thanks for the alert,” Alex said back. He watched as they entered the Capital, hovering over streets of filled with Umiak, occasionally spotting a few squadrons of Loroi ripeds, Soroins and Unsheathed policing their recently beaten subjects. He was further amazed at the scale of a monolithic wall they approached. By Alex's guess, the wall must have been at least three hundred stories tall.

Alex whistled at the sight. "Now that... is a wall!"

The Loroi guards at the wall's ports confirmed their identities, granting them clearance as they drove through the wall's portal.

Even with the entire Umiak homeworld under Loroi occupation, celebrating within the Capital City seemed risky. There were still reports of splinter cells hiding across the planet, and possibly within the city. Yet even in the midst of the ongoing siege, the Emperor insisted on going forward with the celebration to demonstrate the Loroi’s resolve and complete dominance of the planet.

And so it was decided to celebrate within the Capital’s enclosed exurb, a luxurious district reserved for Taskmasters and Martinets. Its former Umiak residents completely evicted. Now it hosted tens of thousands of Loroi, along with a few hundred aliens hailing from the Alien Assembly of Moro. Among those visitors were a few thousand humans along with their senior officers and a few Terran delegates.

Alex and his comrades disembarked onto the streets of the exurb, followed by their five-thousand plus crew members of Checkmate Squadron filing out of the passenger trucks. Organizers of the event greeted Alex and the ship’s captains under his command, providing them with digital instructions of the victory ceremony’s timetable, including a list of every warrior and the chosen housing units assigned for them. It felt an awful lot like checking into an exotic resort for Alex. Not that he minded.

Having been given assurances that the exurb was completely safe, Alex took the time to explore this luxurious area. He was amazed, indeed impressed by the organic architecture employed by the Umiak. Quite distinct from the intimidating, lumpy bulkiness of their naval ships. Amazing how the industrialized bugs could have an appreciation for aesthetics, considering their zealous commitment to industrial efficiency.

He passed by the occasional alien ambassador from every race of the Union. And a few of the Hierarchy’s former subjects. A few stopped him to make conversation, to confirm if he was indeed the fabled Protector of the Garden. Each of them extended their salutations and thanks for his contributions to ensuring the protection of the Union’s citizens and offered him their contact information should he be interested in supporting their respective political parties. Alex could have guessed these alien delegates were flattering him for their own ends, but the praise felt good nonetheless.

Fireblade and Beryl stuck close to him the entire time, the Unsheathed’s silent presence serving as reminder for alien delegates to keep a safe distance. Alex knew it was pointless trying to persuade them to give him a moment alone even in a well guarded area. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt safer with his friends around as he passed by the occasional Torrai, each giving him either a courteous nod or a callous glare.

They stopped by what appeared to be a plaza, if that is what the Umiak intended it to be, to admire the great wall that surrounded the exurb and the ring of gigantic skyscrapers encircling it.

Alex whistled. “Say what you will about Umiak, but they built some tall buildings. They’d put even the metropolises of Earth to shame.”

“Only because the gravity here is lighter than many other worlds, Alex,” Beryl pointed out.

Fireblade stood frozen a moment as she detected a disturbingly familiar presence during their walk.

“Fireblade detects a few Umiak,” said Beryl.

Alex stiffened a moment. “Has security been compromised?”

Beryl’s face turned quizzical. “I… am not sure. There seems to be a Loroi near these Umiak. And they seem… different somehow.”

Alex motioned for them to follow, eager to see for himself. They came to a street where three centaur-like orange shells were plucking scraps of trash, polishing the streets with rotating brushes and washing away any speck of tarnish. But these did not look like the common Umiak the Loroi fought. These Shells were shorter, runty and surprisingly smaller skulls than their larger counterparts.

A Loroi clad in turquoise armor monitored the runty Umiak as they worked.

Fireblade walked up to the overseer, silently pointing at the Umiak. Alex could guess she was inquiring about their presence, and none too happy about it.

Alex leaned toward Beryl. “Care to explain?”

“According to the Reimadi, these Umiak are harmless,” Beryl replied. “They are called Kikkut, an Umiak subspecies that have existed as a form of bottom feeder. Apparently since the warriors occupied the planet, these Kikkut have been found roaming mostly in sewers and garbage. These particular Kikkut were formerly employed as cleaners for the Shells occupying this exurb before their masters were evicted. Now the Reimadi are managing them.”

“Reimadi? Is that another caste?”

“Yes,” Beryl confirmed. “Reimadi, the Beast Handlers, originate from Perrein. Like the Mizols, they are a telepathically influential group, but of a very different nature. They are animal specialists whose unique talents allow them to form strong connections with non-Loroi organisms.”

“Like tamers?”

“I suppose you could call them that. But their profession goes beyond simply taming. The Reimadi are lore keepers of many animals, expanding their archives beyond Perrein’s biosphere. They are also experts in breeding and domesticating animals.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Beryl, motioning to the Kikkut with his thumb. “So… they domesticating these little guys? Not sure if the Universalists of the Alien Assembly will like the sound of that.”

Beryl groaned out a sigh. “The Reimadi is merely guarding the Kikkut. Not degrading them, if that seems to be your concern, Alex. Apart from that, she is also protecting them from any Loroi with hostile intent. Which is a generous kindness considering all the Umiak have done to us.”

“Touching,” Alex muttered.

“Indeed,” a new voice said, catching Alex’s and Beryl’s attention. “Next thing you know, they’ll be sending the Beast Handlers to make pets of us.”

A man, with slanted eyes, pale, red-tinted skin and short stature approached him with two guards flanking his sides. A man Alex had not seen since the first meeting between the Diadem and the TCA Commanders chosen to sit on the board of representatives for the Six Worlds of Humanity.

“Admiral Youshia,” said Alex. He stood formerly, raising his hand to his forehead. “Sir!”

Youshia saluted back. “At ease. It has been a long while.”

Beryl held a hand to her chest. “Admiral Youshia, greetings! I am pleased to see you again.”

“Likewise, Saszet… uh, what was your name again?”

“Beryl!”

“Oh, yes! Now I remember.”

Fireblade left the Beast Handler and the Kikkut alone as she walked briskly to stand by Alex’s side.

Youshia grinned at Alex. “You seem to have quite the protective escort.”

Alex grinned in kind. “Can barely get a moment to myself. My comrades insist on following me wherever I go.”

“Fireblade says, ‘It is our duty to ensure you don’t commit hazardous acts of mischief, Alex,’” said Beryl.

“As well you should,” said Youshia to the Loroi. “Chandra Chaudhary shared stories with me about Alexander Jardin’s defiant mischief at the Hellas Planitia Academy on Mars. Even cost him his Valedictorian honors.”

“Vali-dik-tor-en honors?”

“Students with the highest academic achievements. Then again a student’s potential for greatness should not be defined by test scores. And it seems your Mazeit has indeed achieved great things here, among the Loroi.”

While Youshia’s words sounded like a compliment, Alex could not help but notice the contemptuous tone in the old Admiral’s voice. But accepted the praise nonetheless, saying, “You’re too kind, Admiral.”

“Would you walk with me, Mazeit?”

The Loroi meant to follow. The Admiral stopped them, asking them to give him and Alex a moment alone. His bodyguards stayed with the Loroi and, upon the Admiral’s request, introduced themselves to keep the Loroi occupied.

And so Alex walked with Youshia through the streets of the exurb.

“Admiral, you mentioned Chandra earlier,” said Alex, walking on par with the Admiral. “How is he?”

“Captain Chandra,” Youshia emphasized, “has been doing well. He may make an excellent commander one day.”

Alex could not help but smile at the thought of Chandra rising in the ranks. “He deserves it. Chandra’s a good guy.”

Youshia agreed, “That he is. Chandra is dutiful, loyal and humane. Though you… you have become something of an idol among the aliens here, Ensign.”

“Uh, Commodore actually, Admiral,” Alex corrected.

Youshia’s tone took on a stricter edge. “If you want to get technical, you are a Mazeit, a Loroi rank. Last I checked, you have not been promoted by any official Terran officer. Which makes you still Ensign Second Class. Assuming you have any allegiances left to the Terrans.”

Alex tried not to scowl, stopping to face the Admiral. “I’m sorry, Admiral. But am I being insulted?”

“Insults are the last resorts of the insecure,” said Youshia. “They are beneath the dignities and wit of a proper Terran officer. I am simply stating a fact. Make no mistake, you have helped the Loroi and humanity beat back an overwhelming foe, for which you have my respect. If you do not approve of me calling you by your proper rank, Ensign, I will refrain. However, to call you Mazeit suggests that you answer toward the Union military. And, I must be frank, that will not give your compatriots back in Terran space much faith in your humanity.”

Alex took that personally. “When last I checked, sir, we are all on the same side here. Surely a dignified and witty officer such as yourself would understand that.”

Youshia scoffed out, “Heh! Mazey was right about you. You really do lack professional decorum.” The shorter man stood up to Alex.

Alex could not help but sneer down at the Admiral. “Admiral, it’s obvious you didn’t ask me for a stroll or small talk. Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”

Youshia’s lips twitched slightly, sniffing as he looked up fearlessly into Alex’s eyes. “We just finished a war. Perhaps the most destructive war humanity has ever seen. Many things are about to happen between the Terrans and the Loroi Union. No doubt the Loroi will entice you with the promise of higher rank and glory. When that time comes, you will have to choose.”

Alex rose an eyebrow. “Choose?”

Youshia nodded. “Choose what is more important; glory or humanity. Something Captain Chandra Chaudhary understands. I’ll be sure to send him your regards… Ensign.”

The old Admiral did not excuse himself as he left Alex alone, reuniting with his bodyguards. Beryl and Fireblade walked up to Alex as the humans left them.

“That went quickly,” said Beryl. “I was anticipating the Admiral to speak longer with you.”

Alex turned his scowl away from the withdrawing Admiral. “There was nothing more to be said.” He received a beep on his wrist-comm. “Looks like we’re being summoned by the organizers. Let’s rally the crew. Time to rehearse ceremonial procedures.”

[Snoofman]

Victory

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The members of Checkmate Squadron as well as every spacer group were drilled through the ceremonial processions to come. For the next two days the warriors would assemble and rehearse the steps of the ceremony.

The exurb grounds underwent some extensive remodeling. A field of local flora and black and purple-leaved trees were cleared away. Green-clad dozers leveled the area, swiftly tarmacing over the deforested section, where a dais was erected at the end of the newly paved field. Gallens carved, or rather printed out of material printers, monumental columns shaped in the likeness of Loroi warriors, erecting them along the perimeter of the parade square. It amazed Alex how swiftly and efficiently the Loroi could clear an area and build something aesthetic in its place.

By the third day, preparations were complete. Alex and the ship’s captains under his command assembled his crew members of Checkmate Squadron within the streets. Beryl, who had perfect memory of every warrior’s appointed position within the parade to come, assisted Alex in organizing the warriors, waving her arms frantically as if telepathy were not enough to get through to her disorderly comrades.

“You look pained, Beryl,” Alex commented with a smirk.

“Because it pains me that a mob needs constant reminders,” she groaned, broadcasting more silent commands as she rushed back and forth along the aisle.

Alex chuckled. “Love that elf.”

“I also enjoy seeing Beryl panic during celebration,” said Talon, walking up to him. “You look good in that maroon armor, Commodore.”

“Thanks. It’s the same armor I’ve worn everyday. Only seems different because I gave it a good polish. Unlike some of my subordinates who neglected to freshen up.”

“Really? Who?”

Alex narrowed his gaze at Talon. “Guess.”

Talon cocked an eyebrow. “You mean me? But I did clean my armor.”

“I’m talking about this mess up here.” Alex ruffled her hair. “And Cloud thought I needed grooming.”

“But I did brush,” Talon said indignantly, swatting away Alex’s patronizing hand. “My hair is always like this.”

Alex shrugged, sighing. “Whatever.”

“There is that word again, ‘wat-aye-vur.’ What does it mean?”

“It means ‘acceptable’… or ‘good enough.’”

Beryl returned to Alex. “Commodore, all warriors are accounted for and assembled.” She drew out a comb, surprising Alex as she tugged his head forward.

“Ow,” he yelped. “What’re you doing?”

“You must look presentable!”

“Presentable?! I combed this morning.”

“It seems you combed poorly.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom!” Alex huffed as Beryl released him. “Happy now?”

Beryl offered him a satisfied grin, holstering her comb. “You seem to appear presentable.”

He turned to Talon. “Do I?”

Talon shrugged. “Whatever!”

“Get in line, Mallas Smarth-mouth.”

Talon obeyed.

Alex stood at the head of his assembled procession. All five thousand plus warriors were organized into a long queue of sixteen aisles. At the front line stood Talon, Tempo, Fireblade, Flint and Beryl along with his squadron’s captains.

A coordinator clad in ceremonial bronze approached Alex. “Commodore,” she said, “is your group ready to proceed?”

“At quick for action,” Alex replied.

“Very good. Please await the command to move. You will follow the Delrias Hireling Troop. You will follow me along a diverging path as we approach the dais.”

Alex complied. They waited several minutes and, upon the coordinator’s command, marched forward.



Upon arriving at the edge of the parade square, Checkmate Squadron proceeded down the aisle farthest to the right of the assembled legions, marching up to the end field. Alex took in the grandeur of the dozens of monolothic warrior statues erected along the border of the parade field. The first statue they passed seemed to depict a Loroi in tribal attire, primitive looking. Each statue they passed depicted a warrior with distinct wear, each passing monument bearing more sophisticated clothing or armor than its predecessor. Alex felt as if he were marching through Loroi history, leading up to the present. The sound of military horns and the beat of drums certainly amplified the thrill of the march.

The Loroi certainly know how to orchestrate a magnificent spectacle, thought Alex. Not so different from how some humans celebrated military triumphs.

At the end field, just below the elevated dais, the aisles of Checkmate Squadron reorganized to fill up the lane on which they stood, to make room for the groups marching in from behind.

Another coordinator approached Alex. “Commodore, you are to proceed up to the dais.”

Alex was surprised. “Shouldn’t I be here with my crew for the ceremony?”

“The Emperor requires your presence.”

Alex turned toward his comrades, motioning one of his ship’s captains forward. Treestump left formation and approached. “Take care of our comrades in my absence.”

Treestump smirked. “You speak as if you are leaving us for good, Commodore.”

“In this profession, you never know.”

Treestump chuckled, thumping her chest. “Commodore, there is no greater honor than serving one who gives his comrades a chance to redeem herself.”

Alex swore he heard Talon audibly snort before the rest of the Loroi beat their chests in salutation. He would have a word with her after the ceremony. He returned the honor before following the coordinator up to the dais.

The Torrais and members of the Loroi admiralty eyed Alex as he joined them. The dais was reserved for the Loroi admiralty as well as close kin and friends of the Emperor. Just what was the Emperor intending? He was guided to stand between Loshret Stillstorm and Torret Arclight. Even after nearly five years of fighting the Hierarchy, Stillstorm had only that distrustful glare to offer Alex.

Alex nodded toward Arclight. “Pleased to see you again, Torret.”

“I am surprised to see you here,” Arclight replied. “Pleasantly of course.”

Alex mustered up a courteous smirk for Stillstorm, muttering, “Greetings, Loshret.”

“What are you doing here?” she muttered back.

“My presence, it seems, was requested by Emperor Greywind.”

“Is the puppeteer that desperate?”

Arclight offered Stillstorm a glare, likely sending her disapproval at hearing such slander against her great grandmother.

Alex continued, “I go where the Emperor needs me.”

“So must we all,” said Stillstorm.

Alex looked around himself at the aisles of Torrais, and asked, “Where’s Ashrain?”

“That’s Mazeit Ashrain to you,” Stillstorm muttered. “Ashrain is no longer serving in Strike Group 51. Last I heard she is running escort missions for supply frigates. A terrible waste of talent.”

As much as Alex found Stillstorm intolerable, it was hard to argue with her on that. “Well, Ashrain is good.”

Stillstorm glared at Alex, as if insulted. “She is brilliant. And should be standing where you stand now.”

Alex said nothing more. He had heard the stories that during the Forward Campaign, Ashrain was suffering escalating depression. She had been spotted indulging in alcohol on shore-leave. There were even rumors that she was drinking while on duty. It was obvious that her grandaunt was shielding her from receiving a dishonorable discharge. Alex found it reassuring that, in spite of Greywind’s brutal vindictiveness, the Emperor was capable of tenderness. Although he had learnt that Loroi did not respect warriors that kept their rank through favoritism. Even after meeting her only a few times in his service to the Emperor, Alex liked Ashrain. Loved even better to beat her at Crossfire and Chess. He hoped she would come out of her stupor.

As the last of the legions marched into the parade square, assuming their positions, Alex’s attention as well as the Torrais around him was drawn to the trumpets and drums changing the tune. Now began the highlight of the victory ceremony. The Torrais stood, still and formal, facing the legions occupying the parade square from their elevated position on the dais.

As the ceremony proceeded, Alex admired the tens of thousands of warriors assembled, mostly Loroi. Only the middle lane was left vacant, flanked on either side by single aisles of the Praetoran guard. A few lanes had been reserved specifically for alien soldiers. The Barsam troopers of the Agumo Conference Coalition stood out the most, being the second largest group of alien combatants. Alex recognized the spacefarers of the Neridi Royal Defense Fleet of Derro, diminutive yet proud. There were the Delrias Hirelings, the hired guns of the Rubat Plutocracy. Loroi warriors had little love for mercenaries, but the Delrias were still respected as a warrior species, even if they fought for riches over honor. Arreka lancers stood tall with ceremonial lance-rifles. At the far west end of the parade field Alex spotted a few hundred Mannadi and Nissek soldiers. A rare sight to be sure. On the east end stood Checkmate Squadron. Behind them came the Terran Scouts and the Colonial Marine Force. A few groups of private human mercs brought up the rear.

So many of them, thought Alex. It amazed him how well organized the Loroi were. In spite of the cultural differences and the Loroi’s distinct sense of style, the manner in which they arranged ceremonies and maintained formation in perfect rows and ranks seemed very human. Even their manner of televising and broadcasting the ceremony was not so different from the human way. Dozens of camera drones flew overhead and nearby, remotely operated by Gallens out of sight.

To the right and left of the dais stood hundreds of alien ambassadors hailing from the Union Assembly as well as dozens of the high-ranking officers of the Terran Admiralty.

The blare of horns and the beat of drums seemed to intensify, signifying an impending apogee. And there, in the vacant middle lane, Alex saw the Emperor approach aboard a steed-less chariot. Two Unsheathed stood astride the chariot’s chassis, propelling it forward by force of mind.

Alex wondered why the Emperor chose a more primitive cart as her ceremonial form of transportation. Perhaps it was a way to demonstrate her commitment to Loroi traditions. Plus the presence of Teidars propelling the vehicle was a ritualistic way of demonstrating the might of the Loroi.

Ceremonial coordinators sounded off throughout the parade field, hollering commands. The ranks of warriors, Loroi or otherwise, turned to face the Emperor as she passed down the middle lane. Together they chanted:

“Azerein! Azerein! Azerein!”

The chants grew louder as more voices joined in, unyielding in their praise even as the chariot stopped at the foot of the dais. The coordinators sounded off again, compelling the ranks of warriors to face toward the dais.

The Emperor’s attendant stepped off the chassis, holding the Emperor’s violet cape aloft as her liege descended. The Unsheathed drove the chariot away as Greywind ascended the steps of the dais. She stopped center stage, observing every Torrai. Alex noticed her gaze fall on him in particular. Alex did not nod. Made no gesture. Simply gazed back neutrally until the Emperor broke contact, turning to face the chanting legions within the parade field. Camera drones levitated closer to capture the Emperor in all her glory, broadcasting for all across Kkukit-tikhal and beyond to see.

The chanting and the music continued:

“Azerein! Azerein! Azerein!”

Greywind raised her left fist. A bronze-clad warrior off to the side of the dais blew into an elaborately designed shofar. Despite its small size, it resounded throughout the parade field with an otherworldly hum, a blasting cry signaling the roaring legions to silence. The chanting died down.

The Emperor lowered her fist. Without the visible presence of microphones, her voice resonated throughout the parade field, amplified by the minuscule recorder devices within her armor.

“My fellow comrades,” Greywind spoke, “distinguished guests, honored ambassadors, most loyal allies old and new! It is with great pride and relief that I stand before you today, that you may be the living witnesses of this great and crucial occasion. And we broadcast this event so that all may see and hear this message from the capital, the very heart of the former Umiak Hierarchy.” She paused a moment. “My comrades… the Martinet Council has surrendered, its instigators of the war brought to justice. The Umiak Hierarchy is no more. The war is over!”

Even without signal or permission from the ceremonial coordinators, the warriors erupted with cheer. Even at such far distance, Alex could make out faces of joy among the legions.

The shofar blared again, crying for silence and attention.

The Emperor carried on, “Hear this, my fellow comrades! Although our forces continue their advance to secure the territories up the Periphery Lane, toward the Taurus Dark Clouds, let there be no need for concern. It is with complete assurance that I can say any remnants of Umiak resistance no longer pose a threat to the Loroi Union. The remaining enemy forces will be wiped out or driven off. And so I say to you, Umiak, Morat, Lurs, Tithric, Tenuki, Jilaad and Orgus: lay down your arms. And we, the Loroi, the rightful rulers and protectors of the Local Bubble, will give you all the mercy you deserve. Give us your obedience… and we will give you peace.”

There was little cheer, save for the vocal approvals coming from the ambassadors of the Alien Assembly.

The Emperor continued, “My fellow comrades and sisters in arms, these past 30 years of war have taken a terrible toll on the Loroi Union and all its members, all its subjects. The price we paid, the friends we lost, the worlds forsaken…” Greywind seemed to pause. “…forsaken to destruction. We have suffered. We have endured. And we have survived… in spite of overwhelming odds… never sure if we would live to tell the tales of our valor. Fearing that those who boldly dove into the void and did not return had perished… for nothing.”

A solemn and reverent silence befell the entire parade field. It was enough to move Alex.

The Emperor announced with unhinged pride, “But let there be no mistake. For every warrior who perished, Loroi and sapient alike, their sacrifices, their memories will be honored. And we, the inheritors of their legacies, their stories, will fulfill our duties as we continue forward. We will venture farther than ever before. We will expand. We will multiply. And we will triumph!”

The assembly of warriors erupted into a chorus of cheers.

“But let us not forget,” Greywind’s speech echoed, “that just as we commemorate the dead, so to are we dutifully bound to honor the living.” She turned toward the Torrais assembled on the dais and called the first forward, “Torrai Soshret Sunfury, please approach!”

A Loroi with a halo of fiery, ember hair and striking eyes of magenta left her spot and descended the steps of the dais to stand before the Emperor.

“Fleet Commander Sunfury,” said Greywind, “for your outstanding dedication to the war effort and your efficient management of military staff and resources, I hereby decree that you be promoted to Rizeladi, with all the privileges and responsibilities therein. By the authority vested in me, and by the will of the Diadem, I officially declare you as Planetary Governor of the Umiak homeworld. To keep the peace, to ensure that the Umiak comply with the laws of the Union. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“Most honorable Emperor,” Sunfury replied, her voice amplified by recorders as well, “I do.”

The Emperor extended her left hand, tapping her purple wrist tab against Sunfury’s shoulder guard. The fiery commander’s illuminated rank tabs shifted from bright to burnt orange, signifying her ascension.

Sunfury knelt and was offered the Emperor’s violet cape by Attendant Link. Sunfury took the cape in both hands, delicately kissing Greywind’s hair before returning to her place among the Torrais.

Next the Emperor called forward Stillstorm. Despite exhibiting all the obedience she was obliged to offer, Stillstorm looked less than happy to be in the Emperor’s presence than she had been when first meeting Alex.

“Torrai Lashret Stillstorm,” said Greywind, “for thirty years you have shouldered a terrible but necessary duty to repel the enemies on the frontlines and beyond. Your tactical brilliance and altruistic management of Strike Group 51 reflects well on yourself, the Tenoin caste and all of Taben. By the authority vested in me, and by the will of the Diadem, I promote you to the rank of Soshret, with all the privileges and responsibilities therein. Furthermore you will be reassigned to patrol the Tisrig territories, where you will oversee the restoration of the Tithric and their homeworld’s ecology.”

This earned Greywind praises from the alien ambassadors. And a spiteful scorn from Stillstorm. She was offered the opportunity to kiss the Emperor’s hair, but simply turned heel to return to her spot on the dais. A few Loroi snickered.

Alex recalled his past conversations with the Emperor regarding Stillstorm, how divided they were on political matters. He could guess that this promotion and reassignment was not meant to be an honor, but rather a way for Greywind to put Stillstorm in a position where she was less likely to mingle in political affairs. Plus guarding the Tithric while they recovered on their homeworld would be Stillstorm’s responsibility. Failing to uphold this task would put her in an unfavorable light with both the Diadem and the Alien Assembly.

Dozens more Torrais stepped forward, receiving praise and promotions from the Emperor. One by one they knelt, kissing the Emperor’s hair, reaffirming their dutiful oaths. It seemed that the ceremony was nearly over as Greywind paid her respects to the last Loroi to kneel and kiss her hair. Alex was looking forward to rejoining his comrades as well as to partake in some celebrations with his human compatriots, or at least those who still regarded him friendlily.

“Mazeit Alexander Jardin,” Greywind called, “please approach.”

Why was the Emperor calling him forward? Alex hesitated a few seconds, looking left and right at the baffled Torrais eyeing him. Swallowing down all reluctance, Alex descended the dais and stood before the Emperor.

“Torrai Mazeit Alexander Jardin, Protector of the Garden, Emissary of Humanity, True Friend of the Loroi,” the Emperor said for all to hear, “for nearly five years you have fought alongside us, aiding us in our most desperate moment, turning the tide of this destructive conflict. Your valor and your deeds reflect well not only upon yourself, but upon all of humanity. Tell us now, before these witnesses, does humanity wish to continue as a benefactor of the Loroi Union?”

“Azerein, I… believe so.” Alex wonder if his reply ought to have been more affirmative.

“Do you wish to see the friendship between our nations strengthen and prosper?”

“Azerein, I do.”

“Then by the authority vested in me, and by the will of the Diadem, I hereby promote you to the rank of Sillatozan.”

Alex’s hairs went on end, his shock amplified by the audible gasps coming from the assembled Loroi. Sillatozan was an elder councilor’s position, the Terran equivalent of a rear admiral, a position of great authority and influence.

The Emperor did not stop there. “Furthermore, in light of your enriching contributions that have bettered our understanding of the human race, I appoint you as my personal ambassador to humanity. You shall serve aboard the mobile capital, where you will aid the Loroi in conveying our benevolent intentions for humanity. Do you accept this responsibility?”

Alex was not sure what to do. He ought to have felt honored, yet was flustered. It seemed obvious the Emperor was pressuring him and knew from experience she did not respond well to refusals.

“A-Azerein,” he stuttered, “I… I… cannot-” Although her expression changed little, Alex could feel her judgement. What he did and said at this moment could have serious implications. “I… cannot refuse such an honor.”

“Excellent,” Greywind’s voice rang with approval. She stepped forward, tapping the rank tabs of his armor, changing their golden shine to amber gold. “As a token of the Union’s gratitude, I present you with a gift.”

A Praetoran stepped forward, unboxing an item. The Emperor drew out a sheathed dagger. She unsheathed it, revealing a beautifully crafted blade of silver with a golden hilt. Sheathing it back, she motioned Alex forward. Alex obeyed, allowing the Emperor to fit the sheath and blade onto his hip. With his reward strapped to his person, Alex knelt before the Emperor and, following the example of the Torrais, kissed the cape of the Emperor as it was presented to him.

He felt the eyes of the Torrais on him as he returned to his spot. Some were intrigued. Many others undignified. He paid little thought to the malicious glares of Stillstorm as he took his place between her and Arclight.

Turning back toward the assembled legions, the Emperor announced, “My comrades, the war is finished. Our victory sealed. To further commemorate this historical moment, the Umiak Homeworld will no longer be referred to as Empire. Henceforth, this world on which we stand will be called… Rozain! And so I say to you, my sisters in arms, my fellow warriors, go forth, celebrate! Let the silence be lifted with cheer and joy! Let the cosmos tremble as we chant evermore: Victory!”

The legions roared with cheer. Together the Loroi beat their fists against their chests, chanting in thunderous synchrony:

“Rozain!”

Thump! Thump!

“Rozain!”

Thump! Thump!

“Rozain!”

Thump! Thump!

Soon the aliens joined in the chant, even the humans.

Alex could not be sure, but he was certain that echoes came from atop and beyond the great walls of the exurb. Echoes of the Loroi who watched the ceremony broadcasted on all channels, hollering their own cheer as if to amplify the message.

“Victory, huh?” he mumbled. He barely noticed a few Torrais approach him, verbally offering him their salutations. Even the newly appointed Governor Sunfury voiced her support. Yet Alex felt numb at the receiving end of their praise, whether it was sincere or merely seizing opportunity to win him over. His mind was too focused on Greywind, more specifically the reason for his promotion. What game was she playing at?

[Snoofman]

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! A big thanks to all of you, my faithful readers! For those wondering, the revelation as to why Alex and the Loroi fled the Union will come next chapter. Enjoy and please don't forget to comment!

A Cornered King

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What followed after the victory ceremony and the Emperor’s public broadcast was the largest celebration ever seen in the Union and its newly acquired territories. From the anti-spinward frontiers of Dinnan Sector to the fronts of the spinward expansion, the Loroi celebrated ecstatically. On the renamed world of Rozain, the Loroi and their alien comrades residing within the exurb danced, feasted, drank, sang, gamed and wept for joy that the thirty year war was finally over.

In the days that followed, Alex was approached by many Loroi, each expressing their admiration and gratitude for Alex’s dedication to the war effort. Emissaries from the Alien Assembly also approached him, making him generous offers should he change his mind to serving within the Combined Fleets and dedicate his talents toward the Universalist Faction. Alex naturally sought out some much missed contact with his fellow humans, some of whom acknowledged him warmly, while others regarded him with distrust for his affiliation with the Loroi.

Those humans who had not given Alex the cold shoulder spent countless hours with the newly appointed Sillatozan, inquiring about his exploits during the war and what he intended to do next. Alex answered questions honestly but sparingly. To distract his human comrades from getting too nosey, Alex happily introduced them to his subordinates.

The Loroi of Checkmate Squadron and human men were smitten by each other. It was heartening to see that some Loroi had friendly regards for humans. As the members of Checkmate Squadron were still waiting to be approved for mating encounters, the Loroi under Alex’s command indulged in humanity’s pleasurable company.

Alex also decided with the war over that it was all right to enjoy himself as well, especially judging by the long queue of Loroi requesting mating encounters with the Protector of the Garden.

Five days after the victory ceremony, Alex was summoned by the Emperor for a private meeting. He was escorted to the former Martinets’ palatial residency, which had been swiftly remodeled by the Gallens with numerous additions to the original structure to better reflect Loroi architecture. The additions made the building look more like a military palace, surrounding and absorbing the remnants of Umiak architecture into itself.

Alex waited in the lobby, manned by many Sentinels of every conceivable rank. There stood a Praetoran at nearly every portal, every hallway bend, every stairwell, moving only to alternate shifts or accept a reassigned post.

Even after victory, there’s little rest for the dutiful, thought Alex.

The round, bulkhead door leading to the Emperor’s chamber opened. Alex stood, anticipating the Emperor’s Attendant to admit him entry. But he was momentarily shocked as three Umiak slowly trodded out of the Emperor’s chambers, escorted by several Praetorans. Behind them was the recently promoted Governor of Rozain.

Sunfury, upon noticing Alex, sent a silent command to the Praetorans to move on. “Greetings, Sillatozan.”

Alex nodded, standing formally. “Hello Rizeladi Sunfury. I, uh, was not expecting you in such… unusual company.”

Sunfury chuckled, glancing toward the Umiak being escorted out by the Praetorans. “The surviving Martinets of Rozain have just reaffirmed their obedience to the Emperor in exchange for leniency. In turn they have agreed to restructure their administrative bodies to better suit Imperial policy as well as relinquish any and all weaponry across the planet. As well as abide by new reproductive procedures.”

“You certainly know how to make others compliant, Rizeladi!”

Sunfury eyed him questioningly.

“Uh, I mean that as a compliment,” Alex assured.

“So you say. To commemorate this occasion, my familial clan has approved an encounter with Sun Flower later today.”

“Never heard of him. Is he a Nedatan?”

“No. But he is a sage, one of the most prominent in our familial clan. And my second great grandfather.”

Alex tried not to cringe, having heard enough about Clan Yellow Suns’ strange tastes. “That… must be wonderful for you. I wish you both a good time.”

Sunfury stepped closer to Alex, offering him a sultry grin. “When your meeting with the Emperor is finished, we would be happy if you would join us.”

“Awfully generous of you, Rizeladi. However, I have already made plans.”

Sunfury shrugged. “Your loss, Sillatozan.” She leaned closer toward Alex. He stiffened as he felt her firmly nudging her knee in between his thighs, whispering into his ear, “You should know, Protector of the Garden, now that the Emperor has graced with a rank of high honor, you have made many Loroi insecure, angry even. Your opponents will multiply. You will need powerful friends. So heed my advice, should you choose an alliance with our familial clan, the Suns will be the first to crush your harassers.”

“Your concern is touching, Rizeladi,” said Alex, “but I think I can handle it. Besides, from what I’ve heard, not everyone in your familial clan is fond of humans.”

Sunfury’s smile did not leave. “True enough. But were you to befriend just one Sun, the rest of the clan must oblige her wishes, regardless of their opinions of humans.”

“I’ll… take your advice into consideration, Rizeladi.”

Sunfury retracted her knee, turning her focus toward the Emperor’s chamber where Attendant Link just stepped out.

“It seems the Emperor is ready for you now,” said Sunfury. “My invitation still stands, Protector of the Garden. And it would make me and Sun Flower happy if you visit us later.” Sunfury marched off.

Alex followed Attendant Link into the Emperor’s chamber. Greywind was seated at a small table.

“Greetings, Sillatozan,” said the old Emperor. “Please join me.”

Alex seated himself. Link brought them tea, noilir and sweet cakes.

“Would you indulge me with a game of Chess?” Greywind asked.

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Right in the middle of tea time?”

“Unless you are not up for the challenge.”

Alex grinned wickedly. “Heh! I feel obligated to remind her excellency that she has lost every game of Chess to me so far.”

“Ah, but I am improving.”

“In that case, challenge accepted!”

Link laid out a Chess board beside the refreshments, the same salvaged from the Bellermine’s surviving items. Ever since their first meeting, Alex had introduced Greywind to the Terran game. As was typical of many beginners at Chess, Greywind focused on controlling the center board and developing pieces. With every game she tried her luck with new tactics, having learnt the strategic value of developing the position of her knights and bishops, as well as castling her king. Alex was not shy about besting her at every game, but she was improving with each trial.

One thing Greywind was exceptionally good at though was finding the concealed white pawn in Alex’s fist no matter how well he tried to mislead her. The Emperor began the game with an English Opening, developing the position of her knights and bishops while castling her king. Alex stuck with symmetric defense, hoping to confound the Emperor with a more unpredictable, aggressive strike.

Alex was momentarily distracted by a loud bang, relaxing when he realized that Link had accidentally dropped a platter nearby.

“You seem, tense, Sillatozan,” Greywind commented.

“I honestly prefer if you just call me Alex, Azerein,” Alex replied. “Anyway, I can’t help but be a bit jumpy at the bangs I’ve heard the last few days. Especially the ones coming from over the wall.”

“Indeed, Alex. The explosions from outside can seem off-putting. Even with our victory, our siege of the Umiak homeworld has not ended. There are still pockets of resistance across this world. But I assure you, we are quite safe here. The surviving Martinets you no doubt saw passing by have agreed to invest their talents into dissuading the local population from resisting. Governor Sunfury will see to that.”

“Well, the Suns don’t like refusals, that’s for sure.”

“The Yellow Suns are aggressive in warfare,” Greywind acknowledged. “But their methods will be essential to securing our dominion over the spinward territories and keeping these newly absorbed races compliant with our demands.”

“I just hope the Loroi don’t have to burn more worlds to get the point across.”

Greywind narrowed her gaze slightly. “I see the delegates of the Alien Assembly have been busy trying to win you over.”

“You think that’s a bad thing, your highness?”

“I admire the Universalists’ altruistic gestures, even if many of their members are exploiting its compassionate message for opportunistic gains whilst concealing less nobler intentions. Nevertheless, the ambassadors have given me assurances that the Alien Assembly will be more compliant with the Diadem so long as we honor the terms of the Interspecies Convention and treat our new subjects fairly.”

Alex did not mean to mutter in as much as voice, "And give the Alien Assembly multilateral commerce rights to the Union's newly acquired territories no doubt."

Greywind regarded Alex with a sharp eye.

Alex shrugged. “When the dirty work is done and the smoke clears, everyone wants a piece of the pie.”

Greywind’s gaze softened. “Strange expression... but poetic. But I digress in regards to your concerns about burning more worlds. I am confident that the Yellow Suns’ level of intimidation will serve as enough deterrent to keep our new subjects under control. Furthermore, now that we have crippled the Hierarchy’s infrastructure, it will be harder for the Umiak to mass produce more Shells without artificial conception tools.”

“Speaking of which, I’m still baffled that most Umiak never understood how reproduction worked, even amongst themselves.”

“Besides the Martinets, most Shells never received an education as sophisticated as our own, Alex.”

“Yeah, but it can’t be that hard to figure out. Even primitive Cave Men knew how to make babies.”

Link poorly suppressed a snicker before receiving an icy stare from Greywind.

The Emperor carried on, “Nevertheless, the Umiak’s ignorance in reproductive functions will make it easier to reduce their numbers to a more manageable population.” She noticed Alex’s uncomfortable silence. “You seem troubled, Alex. Is something bothering you?”

“I just… got a lot on my mind.”

“Alleviate your burden then. Share your thoughts.”

“Emperor, I am… honored to have received such a promotion. Touched even more that you have spoken loudly for peace with the Terrans.”

“We are allies,” Greywind pointed out. “It is imperative that we reiterate that point if we are to strengthen our alliance.”

“I could not agree more with you, Azerein. But… surely there’s someone better, more experienced in diplomacy.”

“Who better than you, Enzin? You who cemented the alliance between humanity and Loroi.”

“I’m flattered, your excellency, but I don’t think I’m up for such a heavy responsibility.”

Greywind was swift with her followups. “Not to worry. The mobile capital is home to some of the finest Sentinels and Listels educated in political science and shall aid in your education. Your diplomatic experience shall be further enriched as you become better acquainted with the circle of alien ambassadors serving aboard Cry of the Wind. In addition, I believe Tempo would be an ideal advisor for you. She and your small circle of companions can also be accommodated if you are not ready to part with them.”

“But Azerein!” Alex sharpened his tone, mentally berating himself for losing his cool. “Respectfully… I don’t want it.”

Greywind was silent a moment, digesting this bitter revelation. She looked momentarily to Link, who received silent instruction to leave the room, giving the Emperor and Alex complete privacy.

Greywind employed a firm tone, “Alex, I seem a strict Loroi, but I am not without sympathy. Now tell me, what is really bothering you?” She could see him hesitate. “If you hope for fair treatment, you must be transparent.”

Alex sighed. “Azerein… the truth is… I feel burnt out.”

“Burnt out? I don’t understand.”

“When we secured the Loroi-Human alliance, I was happy. When I was promoted to Commodore within your Fleet and given the task of countering the Umiak, I was thrilled. I felt like I was fulfilling an essential role, by defending the Loroi and ensuring humanity’s freedom and survival by extension. When we finally initiated Project Forward, I felt overjoyed, hopeful that the end of the war was not too far off. Now that the war is finally over, I’m relieved.”

“But it is not all you feel now?” Greywind stated more than asked.

“Azerein, for nearly five years I’ve countered Umiak strike groups. I’ve gone where no human has gone before. I’ve sat down with Loroi commanders, casually laughing with them as they boasted how many aliens they killed, or the worlds they set ablaze. At first I too found it amusing. But the farther in we pushed into enemy territory, the more destruction I saw, the more I began to realize how much it bothered me.”

“Why does it bother you?”

Alex swallowed his hesitations and admitted, “If the Loroi thought it acceptable to unleash such destruction on their enemies, what else do they find acceptable?”

“Alex, now I feel insulted. You think so poorly of your own comrades!”

Alex sighed. “Azerein, you got what you wanted. We humans helped you win your war. I fulfilled my duty. When I graduated the Academy, I had great ambitions for climbing the ranks, to prove I could be a capable officer. But now, honestly, after everything I’ve seen… I just want to rest. I don’t want to get involved in politics. I ask for nothing now except to go home.”

“To Earth?”

Alex nodded.

“At the cost of your status, your honor? You would lose the warriors’ respect.”

“To be perfectly frank, Azerein, I think decency is more important than warrior honor. The most decent thing you could do for me is just let me go back to Earth.”

“Alex, you must stay.”

Alex got bold. “Is that a request or a demand?”

“I cannot let you leave,” Greywind said more firmly.

“So you’re restraining me then?”

Greywind inhaled deeply, expelling her frustrations through her nostrils. “You seem to want the right to choose. This may come as a surprise to you, but I have no desire to deprive you of your rights.”

Alex lowered his head hopelessly. “But you will if I refuse?”

“In the grander scheme of things, we must be willing to surrender certain rights for the sake of the greater good.”

“And what greater good might that be, your excellency?”

“Peace, Alex. You are not the only human to express concerns about the Loroi. In spite of the Terrans’ invaluable contributions to the war effort, there are many Torrais calling for the subjugation of humanity. All because of your impenetrable lotai.”

“So why should I serve those Loroi if they think so poorly of us humans?”

“Because there are Loroi worth fighting for. Just as there are humans worth defending. Besides, subjugation requires violence. Violence leads to casualties. If news of atrocities committed by the Loroi reaches the Alien Assembly, it would only further devastate the sapients' faith in the Loroi. The very Union would be in jeopardy."

Alex sighed, troubled yet equally touched by Greywind's concerns.

"I see that you are tired," said the Emperor. “But we are warriors, Alex. Exhaustion and sadness is ours to bear in the face of adversity. Serve me as a my personal diplomat and as humanity’s representative, and I promise this will be the beginning of good things between your race and mine. Perhaps we may also convince humanity to join the Union.”

Alex cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Out to turn us to the dark side, are you?”

Greywind’s brow furrowed. “Turn to the dark side?”

Alex shook his head, groaning. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“Indeed!”

“I don’t want to be a killjoy, Azerein, but humanity wants its independence.”

“I’m aware of it. Tell me, Sillatozan, what do you think humanity should do? Cling to its independence or join the Union?”

Alex was silent.

“Alex, I am not trying to trick you.”

Alex moved another piece on the Chess board. “I think… independence gives us more autonomy, freedom to pursue our own desires. Being a Union member means we’d have to give up some of our liberties.”

“You make it sound as if it’s enslavement.”

Alex chose not to call her out on that point. “Enlighten me then.”

“Enzin, I am disappointed. Can you not see the benefits for yourself?”

Alex thought it over. “For starters, joining the Union would strengthen both of our nations. Trading would be easier, albeit with heftier taxes. Humanity would also have an easier time defending its territory with the presence with the Loroi fleet.” The realization hit him. “Which also means that, as a Union member, the Loroi are legally bound to protect and never harm any human.”

Greywind did not smile, but her eyes softened with satisfaction. “Protector of the Garden, indeed! I was right to choose you as my personal ambassador.”

“Azerein, I do not want to contradict you. But even if I could agree that joining the Union is in humanity’s best interests, I could not openly voice it. My fellow humans would see me as your puppet. And humans have no respect for puppets once they see whose pulling the strings.”

“Hence why I do not ask you to openly voice it. I expect only that you help me in creating awareness. Do not choose a side, Enzin. Rather make your fellow humans aware of the benefits of joining the Union, compare that against the benefits of remaining independent allies. Furthermore, I have decided to grant travel permits to human civilians to select Union worlds.”

Now that surprised Alex. “Awfully trusty of you, Azerein. But isn’t that risky?”

“Your concern is touching. But there will be restrictions to human mobility within our territory,” Greywind admitted, moving another piece on the Chess board. “However, by allowing a fair exchange of tourists and laborers, we give the Terrans and the Unionists greater chance of mingling, to become better accustomed with each other.”

“Huh, neat! Although I should warn you, and I say this from humanity’s personal experience, that open boarders is bound to invite culture clashes.”

“As long as clashes are followed by reconciliation, they are manageable.”

Alex moved another piece. “I hope you’re right.”

Greywind moved a white knight to G5. “Shek-mait!”

Alex blinked, baffled. “What?”

“I have your king cornered.”

Alex looked incredulously down at the board. It took him a few seconds to realize that his king, seated at G8, was indeed outmatched. The Emperor’s knight at G5 and pawn at F6 had Alex’s king pinned down. Whichever way he sent his king or other pieces, Alex knew he would only be stalling time. And so did the gentlemanly thing and said, “Well, shit!” He laid his king down. “You’ve improved, your highness.”

“Loroi triumph once more,” Greywind said proudly. She shook hands with Alex.

“Only after thirty-six defeats. Another game?”

“Perhaps later.” She poured herself some more tea. “There are two other reasons why I need you to remain within the Union. Tell me, how goes your delves into the dreamscape?”

“You mean with Fireblade?”

“None other.”

Alex shrugged. “Not much has changed.”

It was not until after the Diadem sealed the alliance with the TCA and meeting more humans that Greywind summoned Alex and Fireblade for a private audience two years after first contact. Upon the Emperor’s command, Tempo slowly brought Fireblade’s memories back to surface whilst training the Unsheathed to keep secrets, even lie with sanzai if it proved necessary. After Fireblade successfully sharpened her mental defenses to the Emperor’s satisfaction, Greywind commanded the two to explore their secret bond in the dreamscape.

Alex and Fireblade would sleep together in her sleeping capsule to mitigate her mind’s receptiveness to outsiders, exploring through each other’s subconscious minds. Tempo observed their interactions, ever vigilantly concealing their activities. With every waking, Tempo would suppress Fireblade’s memories again, bringing them back to light only for their next delve into the dreamscape. Even after all the time they spent together, Fireblade and Alex were no closer to understanding how their bond worked. Their commitment to naval duty also inhibited their progress.

“Emperor, is that also why you refuse to let me go?” Alex asked.

Greywind rose from her seat, walking around the table. “It seems discouraging that we have yet to discover another pair of Loroi and human exhibiting a similar bond as you and Fireblade.” She poured Alex some more noilir. “However, I have not lost hope that you and Fireblade may be the key to understanding how the human lotai works and how it may be lowered.”

“You mean so it’s easier for you to steal human secrets?” Alex stated more than asked. That earned him a sharp look from the Emperor as she stopped pouring. “Just stating a possibility.”

“You do not approve?”

“Azerein, I ask only that you try to see it as a human does. I have seen what the Mizols are capable of. What they’re willing to do. What you’re willing to do. And I must be frank, I’m not comfortable with the idea of a Loroi controlling me like a puppet.”

Greywind retook her seat. “One of the mildest yet most striking insults Perreinids endure, even those born without powers of influence, is to be called a puppeteer. But I have said it many times, there are laws in place that prohibit a Sentinel from abusing her powers.”

“Unless her elders pardon her misconduct.” That earned Alex a deeper scowl. He held up his hands. “I’m just stating an obvious fact, your excellency. If you really want to win humanity’s trust, this is the kind of opposition you’ll have to overcome. And trust me, there are humans that’ll say it less kindly.”

Greywind’s scowl eased up. “The root cause for many Loroi’s distrust of humanity stems from the lotai. But if we can learn how to lower the human lotai, we Loroi can more easily distinguish benevolent humans from malevolent ones.”

“There are bound to be Loroi that will abuse this vulnerability.” Alex sipped his noilir.

“Where there is great power, error is also great. If humanity persists in remaining an independent ally, protecting them from potential abusers will be more difficult. In which case, the next best option is to learn how to lower the human lotai.”

Alex huffed, deflating in his chair as he set his cup down. “If I stay without protest, I wouldn’t be seeing my home again for years, maybe even decades.”

“It seems a high price I demand,” Greywind acknowledged. “But it is for the greater good.”

Alex gave the Emperor a skeptical look. “And not just to satisfy your ambitions or that of the Council?”

Greywind scoffed. “Well, who doesn’t have ambition, Enzin?”

Alex sighed. "If agree to help you, I must have assurances that it is to strengthen peace between humanity and Loroi. And, in the event Fireblade and I do figure out how to lower the lotai, it will not be used to harm innocent bystanders."

"You have the Emperor's word of honor. You may also have a hand in shaping future oversight should you succeed in lowering the lotai. Provided it does not compel you to become my opponent."

“Before I say yes, what’s the third reason?”

“The third reason being,” Greywind explained, “the Historians are sending an emissary.”

It was Alex’s turn to scowl. “What the hell do they want?”

“We don’t know. Which is why we will receive them aboard Cry of the Wind. It is my desire that all alien representatives show their support for the Union. To stand together as one should the Historians seek to intimidate or threaten us. And so, as my personal ambassador for humanity, I expect you to urge your fellow humans to show their support for the Loroi as well.”

“I, uh, hope we’re not gearing up for another war.”

“I did not end one war just to start another, Enzin. But ever since discovering the Historians’ involvement with the Hierarchy, diplomatic relations have deteriorated. The fact that the Historians have further isolated themselves makes it difficult to anticipate their intentions."

"Uh, not to antagonize you, Emperor, but that's kind of to be expected when you take away their right to be represented!"

"A necessary precaution, Enzin! Especially now that we better understand how easily the Historians can override and infiltrate digital networks. Nevertheless, we will receive this emissary, hear what it has to say. I hope it will not lead to more conflict. But… if it does come to war, we must be ready to meet it head on.”

Alex sputtered his lips. “Just when I thought things were going so well. But are you sure it’s a good idea letting a personality construct on board the mobile capital?”

“Thanks to the data extracted from your confiscated device, our programmers have improved our cybersecurity measures. Besides, this emissary is special. The Historians are not sending a personality construct. This emissary is in fact a live Historian.”

Alex was momentarily stunned. “Well… damn!”

[Snoofman]

The Terrible Truth (part 1)

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It began with a discovery.

Following the Mirror Incident that sent the Hierarchy’s command and control network into disarray, Intelligence Analysts discovered the presence of a few ships within Hierarchy territory. Ships that, strangely, moved and maneuvered without visible propulsion. Ships that matched the speculated vehicles utilized by the Historians. When the Historian Personality Constructs could no longer deny these strange vessels’ belonged to the Historians, the diplomatic relations between the Loroi Union and the Historian government began to deteriorate.

During the middle duration of Project Forward, it was further discovered that these Historian vessels were assisting the Hierarchy. The Historian Personality Constructs offered numerous explanations and justifications, but nothing enough to appease the Diadem. With the Council’s approval, Greywind ordered the complete abolishment of Historian Personality Constructs, confiscating or outright destroying their computational containers. Since the Tellai Fleet was already stretched thin following the failed incursion of the Umiak, the Loroi enlisted the aid of alien battle squadrons to defend the Seren and Maiad borders should the Historians show any hostile gesture.

Only one personality construct, which held residency aboard Cry of the Wind, was spared the purge and sent back to Historian territory with a clear message:

“If the Historians hope for even a shred of leniency from the Union, the Loroi will accept nothing less than a living Historian to come before the Diadem and explain their actions.”

Now with the Great War finished, the Historians finally responded.

Barely two nanapis following the victory celebrations on Rozain, the Emperor’s personal squadron mobilized in orbit, along with the combined fleet of its alien allies. The Diadem would meet this Historian Ambassador. Select Torrais as well as the emissaries from the Alien Assembly and the representatives of the TCA were summoned to attend. Mizol Analysts consistently rechecked Cry of the Wind’s safety measures. Gallen Artificers scrutinized every line of code within every operating device, reinforcing the mobile capital’s cybersecurity measures.

The Historian ship arrived in the Rozain system, stopping at the predetermined coordinates just within the Loroi fleet’s firing range. The Historian vessel hailed Cry of the Wind and was granted permission to approach. A single shuttle was dispatched to retrieve the Historian ambassador.

Alex and his comrades watched from the observatory level above the hangar bay as a hairless, creature crouched its way out of the returning shuttle into the hangar deck below, uncurling into a four-armed, slender biped. By Alex’s guess, the Historian was probably three meters tall. Like the Walker Construct, the Historian had a large, conical head crowned with an organic crest. All but the Historian’s skull was completely clad in a magenta suit, laden with intricate symbols and other stylized embroideries.

The Praetoran, Thunder Bolt, marched up to the Historian, likely conveying security procedures and warning the ambassador of the consequences of any hostile gesture toward the Emperor.

As the new outsider was led away by the Praetorans for security inspections, the Historian looked up at the observers overhead. Even from great distance, Alex was certain that it was staring at him.

“Do you think he knows me?” Alex asked Tempo.

“Doubtful,” Tempo replied. “But why do you ask?”

“I could be wrong, but I got the feeling he’s looking straight at me.”

“Well, you seem notorious to some, Sillatozan.”

Beryl stepped back from the observation window, as if frightened. “How unsettling!”

“What is?” Alex asked.

“Even from this distance, I can sense the Historian’s presence. All Loroi within the vicinity can. However, its mind seems unreadable.”

Alex was surprised. “You mean like me?”

“Not quite, Alex. The Historian does not seem to have a lotai as you. We can detect its signature. But even at close distance, the Loroi cannot ascertain its thoughts. I wonder…” Beryl pressed a thoughtful finger on her chin. She was silent a moment, her eyes widening as if receiving clarity. “I have just received confirmation. According to the inspectors that screened the Historian aboard the shuttle, the ambassador is utilizing some sort of polymer material that has been surgically installed within its skull.” Beryl could see Alex’s confusion. She explained, “Think of it as a form of static disruption. It cannot hide the Historian’s signature, but the polymer mitigates the Historian brain’s receptiveness to sanzai. This makes it difficult for an outside observer to read its mind.”

“Huh! Kind of like Fireblade’s sleeping capsule!”

“I suppose so. Which suggests that this Historian must be of great importance.”

“What makes you say that?”

Tempo interjected, “Because the few living diplomats we have met before for treaty conferences did not have that sort of shielding. In fact, they seemed quite clueless, disinterested even in the negotiations. Only the personality constructs accompanying them spoke on their behalf. Furthermore, it was learnt that ‘Historian’ was not actually the name of their entire species, but rather a ruling class. The living emissaries, as it were, did not belong to this class and were likely deployed because the actual Historians knew they would not give away vital information.”

“Seems awfully strange sending clueless people to sign something as important as a peace treaty.”

“The Historians have never seemed to trust outsiders.”

Alex pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Like the Loroi?”

Tempo’s gaze narrowed. “Humorous,” she uttered in monotone. Her attention was drawn elsewhere. “We are being summoned to the reception hall. Please let us proceed there.”

As they moved on, Alex stood by Tempo to inquire, “Tempo, I can safely guess I’m not required or encouraged to say anything at this meeting, but perhaps you could refresh my memory of the Historians. Just to be prepared.”

“I am pleased that you seem to be taking your role as the Emperor’s personal ambassador seriously. What would you like to know?”

“Well, let’s start with their history.”

Tempo explained, “The Historians were discovered during the Loroi’s expansion in the Seren sector. Much about their culture remains a mystery. However, it is believed that they are among the first sapients to resume starflight following the collapse of the Soia Empire. It’s further speculated that they have kept some of the Soia-era technology as well as records of their own history even after the Great Fall. Astonishing considering they are not a Soia-Liron species. In spite of their technological and cultural sophistication, they are extreme isolationists. Even traders are not permitted into their territory.”

Beryl chipped in, “They have shared some details concerning the lost history of the Soia as well as the Precursor empires. However, our academics cannot take the Historians' biased interpretation seriously. The Historians' stubborn refusal to grant us access to their archives further confounds us.”

“But why?” Alex asked. “I can understand if the Historians are not keen on sharing their technology. But what about history and knowledge? The way I see it, sharing stories is the way you build friendships.”

Tempo explained, “Even while we were on better terms with their personality constructs, exchanging dialogue with Historians has more often been a frustrating endeavor. They refuse even to say what sort of government they have.”

“Although,” Beryl chipped in again, “on the subject of government, it has been speculated that the Historians, as evidenced by their reliance on intelligent programs, are governed by an Algocracy.”

“A what?” Alex asked.

“A system of governance whose decisions are made or heavily influenced by computational algorithms.”

“You mean Historians are ruled by their own computer programs? That sounds depressing.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Tempo interjected once more, “the Historians insistence on remaining an isolated nation combined with its refusal to openly share its knowledge or technology, with but few exceptions, makes them a ripe target for suspicion and scrutiny. Combined with the fact that they were evidently aiding the Umiak has injured diplomatic relations.”

“Among other offenses,” Alex spat bitterly.

“Perhaps you refer to the Bellermine incident?”

“What else?”

“Fireblade agrees with you,” said Beryl. “She is especially aggrieved that, during the Seren occupation, they did not see fit to lend some sort of aid judging by how closely their territory lies to Seren.”

Alex looked to Fireblade. “I hear you, Red. Yet I’m still left wondering why.”

“Why?” Tempo asked.

“Why aid both the Umiak and the Loroi during the war? Even after Walker admitted that the beam emission that destroyed Bellermine was likely a Historian weapon, he wouldn’t say why! So what was it all for, all this conspiring? Just what were the Historians hoping to achieve?”

“Officially the Historian personality constructs explained their actions as a result of coercive pressure from two warring empires,” said Tempo. “They compromised with both sides to appease them in the name of survival. The fact that they shared advanced weaponry with the Loroi shortly after one of their inner worlds was seized by the Hierarchy lends credibility to this claim.”

“Then what about Bellermine?” Alex voiced his frustration.

Tempo rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “That incident seems to discredit their assertion. Humanity’s arrival was bound to turn the tide of the war in one nation’s favor. Since the Historians were the evident cause of Bellermine’s destruction, it further incriminates them to being willful conspirators. The only logical conclusion our Intelligence Analysts can formulate is this: the Historians aspirated the fires of war with strategic precision in the hopes that havoc would destabilize or outright destroy both sides.”

“Well, that sounds God awful,” Alex muttered. They came to an elevator, riding their way up. “I ought to say this while I got the chance. I don’t know what the future holds for the Human-Loroi alliance. But, after all we’ve been through, I hope it will only be good things. So know this: come what may, we will face it together. And I’ll put a good word in with my fellow humans when they ask about the Loroi.”

His comrades smiled, touched by his determination and commitment.

“And we shall do our part, Sillatozan,” said Tempo, “and urge our fellow Loroi to treat humanity with decency and respect.”

“Indeed we will,” Beryl chipped in. She turned her attention toward Fireblade. “Fireblade says, ‘Although it would be better if humanity just joined the Union already.’”

The elevator stopped and they exited.

Alex, not wanting to approve or discourage such a thing, simply said, “I guess dhalid will decide.”

Beryl rolled her eyes, groaning, “I see Talon has been a bad influence on you.”

Alex grinned wickedly. “Of course she has! Since I’m no longer allowed to indulge in mischief, I need someone to do it for me.”

“That is not a professional thing to say, Sillatozan,” said Tempo.

Alex shrugged. “I know.”

Beryl said, “Fireblade says, ‘Maybe Alex should be chosen to handle this diplomatic exchange with the Historian. He can trigger the next war for us.’”

Alex narrowed his gaze. “Wow, Red! Your vote of confidence is really astounding. Why don’t you light the powder keg instead? You got the right temperament for it.”

Fireblade offered him a sour look. Beryl said on her behalf, “She says, ‘your father!’” Beryl gave Fireblade a quizzical look.



The reception hall was crowded. Officers and delegates were organized into aisles. Alex and his compatriots were guided to stand beside the personal ambassadors of the Emperor, each representing their respective races.

The assembly was called to attention by Teidar Rozeirri Thunder Bolt. Entered the Diadem, seating themselves at the head of the reception hall. Greywind sat the center throne with her Chief of Staff, Lodestone, on her left.

Lodestone spoke first, “Order! Silence is called!” The murmurs within the hall died down. “I, Torrai Oirel Lodestone, officially commence this hearing. This meeting is a diplomatic exchange between the Loroi Union and the Historian government. All within this hall will serve as witnesses to this occasion. I say, on behalf of the Emperor and the Diadem, that we have not forgotten the clauses of the Interspecies Convention as well as the diplomatic procedures of the Alien Assembly concerning the treatment of sapient diplomats.

“However, due to the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the Historian diplomat in question as well as the Historians' evident involvement with the Loroi Union’s enemies, it is decided by the Diadem that the Emperor will exclusively handle this exchange to determine the intentions of the Historian diplomat and the government it represents. Therefore no other officer or delegate is required or permitted to intervene unless instructed to do so by the Emperor.” Lodestone was silent a moment, allowing her words to sink into the minds of every attendee. “With that said, we now hand over the power to address to Torrai Azerein Greywind.”

The Emperor raised her left hand and said, “Bring forward the Historian diplomat!”

Four Praetorans led the Historian out of an antechamber and into the main reception. Alex could see a number of the alien ambassadors shiver as the Historian was led to the center floor.

The Historian stopped center floor, the Praetorans ready to pounce if it so much as hinted at hostile intent.

The Emperor spoke, “You, Historian, state your name for the record!”

The Historian replied, “You see before you the chosen speaker of the Historians. Our manner of name-giving and usage of titles is different from yours. To offer more invites risk to myself and those associated with me.”

Greywind frowned only slightly. “While I respect alien customs, I am afraid that is not an acceptable response. This Council and its witnesses need a name from you.”

“Then I offer, for recommended convenience, that I be referred to by a simpler label.”

Greywind’s expression eased. “What then shall we call you?”

“Walker.”

Alex’s initial reaction was surprise, followed by a vindictive anger swelling in his person. It took a great amount of mental discipline to restrain his face from deforming into a scowl. He looked toward Tempo, who looked back. She said nothing and yet, in a surprisingly human gesture, exhibited her understanding. She too recognized the name and its implications. As did Beryl. As did Fireblade. Though the Emperor looked unfazed, Alex could safely guess from his station that Greywind was equally aware of who and what she was dealing with.

The Emperor carried on, “Ambassador Walker, you stand before the Diadem, the highest authority within the Loroi Union. It is the understanding of this Council that you come to us on a diplomatic mission. Have we been correctly informed?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you hope to achieve here today?”

“To deliver a message.”

“Well then,” Greywind waved her hand, “what is your message?”

“Before I deliver that message, let me clear! Under normal circumstances our personality constructs have been the primary means of communication between our nations. However, ever since the Diadem banned their presence, it has by extension severed that vital link, hindering our ability to exchange dialogue. Therefore my associates have granted unto me the right to speak on their behalf. We trust therefore that the Loroi will honor its former agreement; regardless of how things transpire here, I Walker, will be guaranteed a safe journey home.”

“So long as you, Ambassador Walker, give us no reason to believe that you bear hostile intent,” said Greywind, “and agree to an exchange of information to assure us and those assembled here that the Historians have no malicious intentions against the Loroi Union. Are my words clear to you?”

Walker opened his four arms, as if displaying a graceful gesture. “I understand.”

“You may proceed then!”

“Your excellency, members of the Diadem, esteemed delegates and commanders… we Historians address you directly in the interest of preserving the peace between our nations that has lasted since our first contact.”

“It would relieve me to hear that,” said Greywind. “However, recent events have given us cause to doubt such claims.”

“Then let me be more forward, your excellency. We the Historians, whose authority is granted by those whom we are sworn to guide and steer away from calamity, do not want war. For the sake of restrengthening our alliance, communication and exchange of information must be allowed to flow freely. Therefore, we insist that our personality constructs be granted clearance once more within Union territory. In addition, we are prepared to reevaluate intercommunications and computational policies to assure those it concerns that our interactions and data collection will only benefit your government and our own.”

“Ambassador, did you the Historians create the personality constructs whom we have interacted with?”

“They are designed to mimic and encapsulate our personas, yes.”

“Is it accurate to say then that you the Historians are responsible for the actions of your personality constructs?”

“If one were to overlook the complexities of Historian accountability and codes of conduct governing the behavior of personality constructs, then that statement seems accurate.”

“Do the Historians truly desire peace with the Loroi Union?”

“We prefer a peaceful resolution over armed conflict.”

Alex snorted bitterly.

Greywind continued, “Do you and those you represent understand the terms of the Union’s Anti-Neutrality Policy?”

“We understand them as your ruling party dictates,” said Walker.

“Then consider the following: Historian ships have been seen traversing within enemy territory during the war with the Umiak Hierarchy, an empire now defeated. We have undeniable proof of Hierarchy forces exchanging dialogue with Historian personality constructs. There also exists evidence of willful trading between Umiak and members of your race. Do you deny these allegations?”

Walker closed his four arms protectively over his chest. “We acknowledge that some members of our race or the personality constructs acting on their behalf have done as you have described.”

There were murmurs of discontent and disapproval.

Greywind gripped firmly the armrests of her throne. “Tell this assembly what compelled the Historians to consort with our enemies!”

The Historian pressed both pairs of hands together, as if exhibiting a contemplative or submissive gesture.

“Your excellency,” said Walker, “the answer may not be as simple as you hope. The foundation of civilization rests upon sociological equilibrium, behavioral dynamics, ideological narratives and adherence to the law. Any group of sentient creatures can build and maintain a prosperous civilization so long as they understand these four principles. Thanks to the accumulation of cliodynamic data and psychoanalytical tools, we Historians discovered the operative algorithms and reactive models necessary to create simulated scenarios. These simulations accurately predict the actions, outcomes and responses of civilizations known to us. And what we found amidst our analysis was this: the loyalty of groups is won and kept by understanding individual needs, building an infrastructure that most efficiently fulfills those needs, followed by habitual reminders of worser outcomes should one diverge from the established order. Such reminders serve as fair warnings so long as they are supported by facts.”

“Get to the point, Ambassador!” Greywind commanded.

“The point, your excellency, is that we Historians were well aware of the impractical absurdities of the Loroi Union’s Anti-Neutrality Policy as well as the Umiak Hierarchy’s long before we lived long enough to witness its detrimental effects. And we did advise you against it. To put it simply, the Anti-Neutrality Policy does not win you the loyalty of others. It wins you obedience driven by fear. The only reason why it seemed effective in securing allies and resources for the war effort was because you successfully persuaded your subjects to act in accordance with your demands in order to oppose a perceived common threat. And now that the war is finished, that policy is more likely to create more conflicts than it is to resolve them. Even if there were members of our species who agreed with your policy, and I assure you few do, it is unrealistic to expect every member of one nation to obey your laws simply because you command it do so. It is simply too complex.”

“Is that your government’s justification for conspiring with our enemies, Ambassador Walker?”

“Whether or not we Historians are guilty of conspiring against you or the Hierarchy is subjective to the judges empowered by their respective establishments,” Walker defended. “What I can say with absolute certainty is that whatever was done was not driven by malicious intent or lust for greater riches. If you deem us Historians guilty of conspiring with your enemies, our only defense is that we consorted with both sides as a means of dissuading them from incurring on our territory and harming the inhabitants therein. Because, in the face of cliodynamic certainty and the harsh realities of the war, every alternative course of action would have yielded less appealing outcomes!”

A Loroi from within the assembly cried out, “Liar!”

The hall erupted with outrage as the Loroi, even a few aliens, hurled accusations at the Historian:

“Trickster!”

“Saboteur!”

“Double-dealer!”

“Traitor!”

Lodestone smashed her fist on her armrest, roaring, “Order! Silence is called! We will have order!”

Greywind outstretched her hand. “Silence! Peace, comrades!” The hall slowly quieted down. She spoke, “Ambassador Walker, are you saying that the Historians committed such actions because their survival and safety was at stake?”

“Yes,” Walker replied.

“Along with every member of your species, regardless of their affiliation with the ruling Historian class?”

“Yes.”

“As well as the Pol, whom you claim to be protecting?”

“Yes.”

“As well as the few other sapient species dwelling within your territory?”

Walker was silent a moment. His tone betrayed a hint of agitation. “Yes.”

“Malingerer, out to swindle us for sympathy!” A loroi called out, followed by a chorus of more insults. Lodestone called for order.

Silence returned and Greywind continued, “Answer us this, Ambassador Walker! Did your schemes, committed in the name of self-preservation, include the destruction of a Terran vessel sent on a diplomatic mission to the Loroi Union?”

Alex saw his fellow humans glare accusingly at the Historian, as did he.

Walker’s reply: “I am afraid you will have to be more specific, your excellency.”

“Then I will be more direct,” said Greywind, her tone taking on a hint of righteous fury. “Did the Historians or any of their personality constructs attack and destroy the TCA scout ship, Bellermine?”

There was no mistaking the Historian’s gaze as it locked with Alex’s. Alex afforded himself a glare, but was not sure if the Historian was indeed glaring back. In fact its gaze struck Alex as quite neutral.

Walker turned his focus back to the Emperor. “There is one who is entitled to a direct answer to that question. But I regret to inform you that it is not yet appropriate for such an answer to be disclosed.”

Many humans roared, “Boo!” Many Loroi voiced their own disapproval in support of the humans. Lodestone called the assembly back to order.

“Ambassador Walker,” said Greywind, “in light of your insistence to conceal your thoughts by technical means as well as the Historians' conspicuous conduct, I and the Diadem have no choice but to interpret your reply as a sign of dubious intentions. As such, we find no justifiable reason to lift the ban on Historian personality constructs nor allow the Historians any kind of access to our digital networks.”

“How then are the Historians supposed to represent themselves?” Walker pointed out. “Surely your excellency has not forgotten the protective clauses of the Interspecies Convention.”

“Have you not noticed? There have been petitions across the Union from every race, forbidding Historian devices access to all channels. Furthermore, the Alien Assembly has agreed by majority vote to suspend the Historians’ right to representation. Until further notice, no exchanges between the Union and the Historians will be allowed without the Diadem’s approval. If the Historians wish for any chance to reverse this decision, they must meet us in person, as you have.” Greywind leaned forward, her tone leaving no room for debate. “Without mental shielding as you now possess.”

Walker gestured toward the assembled Terrans. “You do not seem to make such demands of your human allies.”

“That is different,” Greywind defended. “The human lotai is an unconscious mechanism and therefore cannot be held to the same standard. Besides, this hearing is not about them. It’s about you and your race. Now if the Historians truly desire a peaceful resolution, they must meet us in person with open minds. We will accept nothing less.”

“Open minds?” Walker asked. “So that you may steal our knowledge and use it to undermine us? To use even a sliver of information that displeases you as justification to overrun and absorb our territory into your own? To let live some while burning the rest?!”

The chamber roared with outrage, ordered back to silence by Lodestone.

Greywind gripped the edges of her throne’s armrests, exhibiting dominant posture. “Ambassador Walker, I caution you! Hurling insults and attempting to paint us Loroi as ruthless warmongers will not help your case. Now… will the Historians agree to meet us in person?”

“The implications of risking a Historian’s personal safety as well as the knowledge it safeguards does not permit it,” Walker replied. “In fact, drastic reformations and a considerable transaction of liberties had to take place just to allow me to stand before you.”

“Are you saying the Historians are refusing to meet with us?”

“The Historians do not refuse to meet you in as much as they are being restrained, your excellency.”

Greywind exchanged glances with her Diaderets, deep in silent exchange. She turned her focus back to Walker. “That does not seem reassuring, Ambassador” she said. “We promised you safe passage back to Historian territory. But your elusiveness and your government’s reluctance to compromise gives us reason to believe that your agreement to this meeting is a ruse. That you are in fact stalling us while the Historians mobilize against us.”

Walker hissed, “Tsh! That is absurd!”

Greywind stretched out a reassuring hand. “Have no fear, Ambassador! You will return home… but only if you are forthcoming.”

Walker squinted his eyes suspiciously. “In what manner?”

“You will submit yourself to a mind screening.”

“My brain is protected from your sanzai,” Walker countered.

“From a distance, yes. But what about physical contact?”

The Historian’s eyes went wide. Alex smirked smugly at the apparent fear. That’s right asshole, be afraid, he thought.

Greywind leaned forward on her throne. “Ambassador, be reasonable! If you and the Historians truly desire peace with us, you must prove it here and now.”

The Historian folded his hands together, contemplating. His answer: “I agree under two conditions.”

“Name them!”

“The Loroi who reads my mind will be chosen by me.”

“And your second condition?”

The Historian switched his focus to Alex. “I must share a private exchange with Alexander Jardin… alone! I trust you will not attempt to spy on us.”

Alex was surprised. Just what did this Historian want? A chance to slight him? Or maybe exact some revenge?

“Absolutely not,” Greywind objected. “I will not risk Alexander Jardin’s safety without a guard.”

Walker folded his arms protectively over his chest. “Then I refuse to cooperate. But be warned, should you make any attempt to seize me, the protective casing around my brain has a second function. All I have to do is submit a single command and the casing will atrophy, crushing my brain. It will be fatal for me, but will prevent my knowledge from falling into the wrong hands.”

Greywind narrowed her gaze. “And how do we know you’re not lying, Ambassador?”

“Are you sure you want to risk it?”

“Wait!” Alex shouted, pushing his way through the crowd onto the center floor. “Your Imperial Highness, forgive me for this disruption! But I too wish to speak with the Historian. You need not fear for my personal safety. He cannot harm me here. Besides, I’d like to see him try!”

There were murmurs of surprise in the hall. Greywind scowled, more with concern than disapproval, as she regarded Alex.

The Emperor exhaled sharply through her nostrils. “Very well. But be warned, Ambassador Walker! You provoke the furies if you so much as scratch Alexander Jardin!”

“I will not harm him,” Walker assured. “It would be counter intuitive besides.”

[Snoofman]

Author's note: in case it wasn't obvious enough, the first half of this chapter is just above this post. I hope you enjoy!


The Terrible Truth (part 2)

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Alex followed the Historian to the antechamber. The Loroi watched, with concern and suspicion, as the doors sealed behind them. Alex and the Historian were alone.

The Historian crouched down, kneeling to meet Alex’s level. “Salutations, Alexander Jardin,” he said. Only now at such proximity could Alex make out sharp teeth behind large lips. The Historian’s pupils were large, irises barely detectable, hidden under eyelids. No wonder the Loroi found their presence unsettling. “You have my respect and my thanks for agreeing to this private conversation.”

Alex went straight to the point and asked, “How do you know me?”

“Many within and outside the Union have heard of you.”

Alex’s tone sharpened. “Don’t play with me! Why do you want to speak with me specifically? Who are you really?”

“Is it not obvious, Wunderkind?”

Alex scoffed, incredulous yet amazed. “Holy shit!”

“Interacting with you over interstellar distances has been both entertaining yet cataclysmically confounding. But let there be no doubt when I say… I am pleased to finally meet you in person, Alex.”

“Finally meet me?! I don’t understand. If you’re Walker-”

“The personality construct you met aboard Tempest,” the Historian cut him off, “the same who became your Pocket guardian, the same who assumed the identity of your digital companion, Walker, was my personal labor sirrad.”

Alex furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “You mean like an avatar?”

“It seems more accurate to describe my personality construct as a digital copy of myself, an extension so to speak. But I suppose avatar is an appropriate comparison. We Historians deploy personality constructs to act on our behalf. Thanks to the data sent back to me by the original Walker unit, I am fully aware of all our past interactions.”

“Our past interactions? But this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Our personality constructs perform as we might were we in their positions. They submit the history of their activities to us, as we intend. All of them are free to advise us and continue their operations because we Historians allow it. Were I to suspect the original Walker deviated from protocol, it would have been subject to immediate termination.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Seems hard to terminate a rogue personality construct over interstellar distances, don’t you think?”

“Believe me, we have our ways.”

Alex scoffed, “Hmph! I bet you do. So then… what do you want from me?”

“I will get straight to the point.” Walker extended all four hands, as if begging. “I want you to leave the Union and return home.”

That Alex was not expecting. “You mean to Earth?”

“Precisely!”

“Why?”

“Because, as my avatar once told you, as I seek to remind you now, the Loroi are not your friends.”

Alex scoffed, “Ha! Have you had a look outside? Humans and Loroi just won the war together. Now they stand side by side. Even their Emperor has openly advocated for humanity. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.”

Walker retracted his arms. “Indeed, you don’t. I have looked outside and, whether you believe me or not, terrible events beyond your comprehension are unfolding even as we speak.”

Alex crossed his arms, frowning. “Enlighten me then.”

The Historian nodded. “Very well. But be mindful of this: for any Historian to share knowledge with an outsider invites great risk, both to itself and its associates. But it may do so provided the Historians as well as all the other functional orders of our society permit it.”

“Functional order? What is that, some sort of ruling class?”

“Tsh! The complexities of our species’ society goes beyond corruptible ruling classes. Let it suffice to say that each functional order may have more or less authority over the others. The Historian order’s power is considerable, but ultimately all functional orders cooperate and tolerate each other’s conduct so long as their needs are fulfilled. This is achieved by a fair exchange of transactional rights, save for those that are essential to protect orders from exploitation or abuse. It is the best system of governance we Historians have organized thus far. Indeed all other forms of governance, whose histories we have researched and archived with meticulous scrutiny, have convinced us of what we have tried to convince the Loroi; centralized authority fosters corruption and oppression.”

“Are you trying to convince me the Loroi are corrupt?”

“I seek to convince you that, even though some members of their race would no doubt protect you from alien threats, the Loroi cannot protect humanity from themselves.”

Alex spat, “Judging by your race’s recent actions, it’s the Historians I’m worried about.”

“Your involvement in the Great War have made many Historians angry and concerned. But it is not they you should be worried about.”

Alex glared, tipping his chin up. “Is that so?”

“Accept what I say or do not. All I ask is that you listen. You have no doubt become well acquainted with the Loroi’s hubris, seen their valor. You seem to have made many friends among them. You may also be confident that this alliance between humanity and the Loroi Union has started well. But all this pleasantry from the Loroi is a mask, concealing a more sinister nature.”

Alex scoffed, “Heh! More sinister than you?”

“You make light of my warning at your own peril, Alex. There are malicious forces at work, seeking to weaken the Human-Loroi alliance even as we speak. I come on behalf of the Historians to alert you of an imminent danger.”

“What danger?”

“Our cliodynamic simulations have made an accurate prediction that the Human-Loroi alliance will fail in less than half a century.”

“Bullshit!” Alex barked.

“Hear me, Alex! Outwardly, the Loroi warriors seem a valiant, indeed selfless force to be reckoned with. But their valor falls short of their aggression. The Loroi exploit the fear of failure and shame of weakness inherent in members of their race in order to mold each of their progeny into a warrior of their liking, whilst expelling those who fail to live up to absurdly difficult expectations. Many of their empowered members, who enforce this brutality as their system permits, are oppressive at best. At worst, they are eager to find an excuse to act on their aggressive tendencies. It is a shared opinion, not just among Historians, that this warrior culture is devolving into a kludgeocracy of complicated rules meant to inhibit the Loroi’s violent capacity. While I admire some Loroi driven by a genuine desire to be decent, it’s not enough. Because at it’s core, the Loroi empire suffers something more dangerous.

“Ever since the Soia Empire’s collapse, it took the Loroi more than two-hundred thousand years to rise above nomadic warfare just to reach pastoralism. Even after that, their race was plagued with bloody conflicts, their brutality far surpassing anything humanity has committed during the last fifty-thousand years. The empowered warriors today are only able to organize and cooperate because they are united by a single narrative; the Loroi believe they are the prime Soia and therefore have the exclusive right to rule the Local Bubble as their ancestors did long ago. Their being the only known telepathic race should be proof enough.”

Alex unfurrowed his brow. “Are you saying the Loroi are wrong?”

“That is putting it kindly. We Historians are closer to the truth than they realize.”

Alex regarded him skeptically. “Assuming you’re not lying, tell me what the truth is then.”

Walker gurgled something unintelligibly similar to a frustrated groan. “There is no proof of the existence of a prime Soia. There may never have been such a thing. Whichever Soia-Liron species came first, it does not elevate one over the other. Regardless of which came first, the Historians have deduced that the Soia are living mechanisms. Nothing more and nothing less.”

"Living mechanisms?" Alex blinked away his bafflement. “Are you saying the Soia are biological robots?”

The Historian confirmed, “Designed and preordained to be employed by the civilization that created them."

"But why?"

"Because these synthetic organisms could work and travel in a vacuum whilst withstanding the detriments of cosmic radiation and interstellar jumping better than their naturally evolved counterparts. Every Soia-Liron species that exists today is just an autonomous remnant of an obsolete and failed civilization. They have no more right to sovereignty than any other creature competing for survival.”

Alex could not accept such a notion. "Even if that were true, what would be the point? Why make biological robots when it's easier to build and program regular machines?"

"Because utilizing decentralized biological growth to mass produce a labor force, however unconventional it may seem, is more economically viable than traditional manufacturing. By extension, it is easier to interact with these biological robots if they are molded into easily relatable forms."

Alex moved his hands to his hips. “And you expect me to just take your word for it?”

“Is it not obvious enough? Look to your own species and compare it to the Loroi. Overlooking the more apparent differences, the Loroi look like you, they behave like you, they even laugh like you.”

“So what you’re saying is… we humans are the Loroi's template.”

“Possibly.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms again. “You admit you’re not entirely sure?”

“Long before and during the Soia Empire, there were many human species on your planet. We don’t know which one became the template for the Loroi, but more likely the Soia-era travelers who happened upon those great apes took members of every known species. Some of my fellow Historians are convinced that the organism used as the template for the Loroi’s design was in fact the product of many generations of artificial selection and interbreeding.”

Alex shivered, suppressing his revulsion. “I don’t know if I should be intrigued or mortified.”

“Indeed!” Walker folded his hands in thoughtful gesture.

"But if that's true, what did the Soia want with humans?"

"Uncertain. But it has been speculated that the archaic humans may have possessed a unique brain structure that the Soia wished to utilize."

Alex momentarily forgot his grudge, regarding the Historian with mild intrigue. "What do you mean?"

"We Historians know with irrefutable certainty that the Soia Empire had under its employ grand architects of megastructures, masters of molecular engineering and uncontested experts in orchestrated objective reduction. We believe the Loroi were created for the sole purpose of actualizing a hypothetical device. The ancient humans were simply a missing piece in the puzzle and the Soia's best means of achieving this goal."

"What kind of device?"

"An ansible."

Alex was incredulous. "You're joking! Ansibles are science fiction!"

"I assure you ansibles are possible, but operate on a different level of physics than you understand. Hence why they are only achievable with attotechnology. These invisible devices are subatomic, interacting with the quantum foam of reality, allowing for faster-than-light communication."

"But Loroi don't have faster-than-light communication," Alex pointed out.

"Yes, they do," Walker corrected. "It's called telepathy."

"That's different!"

"Different how? Telepathy is instantaneous, like an ansible. This is further evidenced by the interstellar capabilities of farseers. Could it not also explain the Loroi's other psychic abilities? Abilities that less enlightened minds would be quick to assume was a supernatural power?"

Alex was still not convinced. "Prove it then! Have the Historians built this ansible?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Although we possess the calculations for such a device, we have not yet discovered the right method of integrating an ansible with a living host. Nor do we have sufficient data to replicate the tools employed by the Soia to accomplish this. Besides, the exotic material needed to make an ansible is scarce and must be built in environmental conditions difficult to replicate. This in and of itself requires immense energy that can only be generated by a colossal sum of instruments spanning entire stars."

Alex could not accept such a notion. "There are so many things wrong with your idea. For one thing, if telepathy was just some technology at work, the Soia wouldn't just plant them in living creatures. Surely they would have known that it's more convenient to integrate these ansibles with computers."

"There you are wrong," Walker countered. "Ansibles can only be utilized through a neural interface."

Alex scoffed skeptically, “Ha! Convenient excuse! Then how come only the Loroi are telepathic and none of the other Soia species?”

"The most feasible explanation is that the Soia only had enough resources to make one ansible, definitely no more than a few. Hence why they relied on the Loroi to replicate the device through reproduction.”

That only left Alex with more questions. “Replicate through reproduction? How does that even work?”

“We don’t know.”

“First you say ansibles are possible, now you say you don’t know how it works?! Now I know you’re making this up to trick me!”

“This is no trick,” Walker hissed. “I said ansibles are possible. I did not say we understood the full extent of their capabilities.”

"Were these ansibles installed in the archaic, template humans?"

"Maybe, but those archaic humans disappeared long ago. Without genetic reference, there is no telling if they returned to Earth or not. It is also possible that the Soia decided to keep telepathy exclusive for the Loroi, as a way of monopolizing this unique talent."

"Then what about the human lotai? How does that work?"

"Unknown. The human lotai is an enigma that baffles us. Even with our limited knowledge of the archaic Loroi and their human counterparts, the ancient records make no mention of its origin. Most likely your ancestors evolved an immunity to sanzai.”

"Could the lotai be the result of the ansible?"

"Well, judging by the fact that select humans are able to receive a Loroi's vividness while dreaming, it seems feasible, but not provable.”

Alex said nothing, fearing the Historian was attempting to lure him.

"Your discretion has shielded you well," said Walker. "But we Historians are aware of your susceptibile sensory."

Alex asked simply, "Are there others?"

"Even if I had that information, I do not have the liberty to disclose it."

Alex huffed, frustrated. “Even if any of this is true, and that's a big 'if', why not just share this knowledge with the Loroi? Hell, share it with all the sapient aliens?!”

Walker gurgled more frustration. “We have tried. But like members of your race who fiercely cling to their religious beliefs, most Loroi remain convinced that they are the true Soia. Loroi who challenge this assertion are either frowned upon or expunged. The only sure way we could convince the Loroi of their true origins is by giving them access to our archives.”

“Then why not do that?!” Alex demanded, getting frustrated himself. “Think of the good it could do!”

“Think of the harm it could do!” The Historian thrusted out all four arms to emphasize the point. “When your species first discovered how to utilize atomic energy, what did it do?”

Alex scoffed, “Well, for starters, we built power plants. We made electricity more accessible and affordable.”

Walker frowned skeptically. “Is that all?”

Alex sighed, realizing where he was being led. “Nope! We also made atomic weapons.”

“When your species discovered interstellar travel and began colonizing other worlds,” Walker went on, “did it resolve all of humanity’s economic and environmental issues? Did it compel your nations to reconcile their political differences?”

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes in defiance.

“Alex, I ask only that you be realistic.”

Alex admitted with shame, “Not all of them. But we are trying to solve those problems.”

Walker lowered his hands. “No doubt! My point is the Historians protect their knowledge, not merely to covet it for their own benefit. If the Historians were to give the Loroi even limited access to our archives, never mind our technology, it would have serious implications. Even our personality constructs advise against it.”

“You gave the Loroi the wave loom device!” Alex called him out angrily.

“A calculated risk in response to the Umiak’s incursions,” Walker countered, folding his arms protectively over his chest, “which has added another problem to our list of concerns.”

“Negotiate then!” Alex urged. “Compromise with the Diadem!”

Walker gurgled more frustration. “The Diadem is an oligarchy, a military power driven by the primal belief that might makes right. We Historians have not overlooked the Diadem’s altruistic gestures, whether driven by political gain or genuine desire to do good. But it cannot erase the their history and present willingness to violently remove obstacles even before the war, especially with Emperor Greywind as its commander-in-chief.”

“What’s wrong with Greywind?”

Walker’s tone turned venemous. “Much! Which brings me finally to my next point; you must not help her! You must not help the Imperialist Loroi!”

“Greywind has advocated for humanity ever since humanity agreed to join the Loroi,” Alex defended. “I’m not ignorant that there are Loroi who don’t like humans, but Greywind has only defended us.”

“Greywind defends her interests. You think she has not considered deploying her fleet into Terran space to subjugate humanity?”

“I don’t believe you,” Alex spat.

“Believe what you want. But know this: you have been here for barely five standard Terran years. How well do you think you know Greywind? You have barely scratched the surface of her history. Our personality constructs have interacted with her, studied her past from numerous sources, comparing it to her boasts. She claims to fight for the common good, driven to uproot corruption, unite all the races of the Union and protect them from all threats. But our personality constructs’ findings have given us a terrible but better understanding of who Greywind really is.”

“And who do you think Greywind is?” Alex asked skeptically.

“An insecure, domineering, traumatized sneak whose suave rationality falls short of her vindictive need to control. Her altruistic desires fall short of her willingness to excuse ruthless conduct in the name of cementing the central authority of Deinar.”

“Prove it!”

“Long before her ascension to the throne, Greywind was under the command of her mother, Rainlash, an influential Mizol with close ties to the Third Emperor Eighth Dawn. Even from a young age, Greywind suffered temperamental issues as well as unresolved trauma after being subject to a harsh upbinging.”

Alex furrowed his brow, disturbed. “You mean she was abused?”

“Overlooking the differing standards of what constitutes abuse among sapients, I suppose that is an acceptable description. Her mother, a master of persuasion and ensnarement, controlled Greywind’s tutelage even after her diral trials. And she was overbearing. The Third Emperor Eighth Dawn, whom eventually took notice of Greywind’s remarkable psychic powers that outmatched most other Mizols, used a lighter touch to persuade Greywind to serve under her wing. Greywind learnt the skills of diplomacy and intelligence gathering. She was well accomplished, securing alliances for the Third Emperor and dissuading axis political factions from dissent for many decades. Until her greatest error.”

Alex folded his arms, attentive. Despite his skepticism, he was curious. “Which was?”

“Since Taben has had a long history of dissent among all the Loroi, it has also been home and haven for rebel factions. After being deployed to Taben for envoy duties, Greywind used her skills to root out and incriminate members of the local Tabenid Council with undeniable proof of their affiliation to these rebel groups. This of course destabilized the local Tabenid government, sparking public outrage, nearly causing a schism. This displeased Eighth Dawn, who was counting on Greywind to secure the Tabenid Council’s commitment to the central authority of Deinar.

“Thereafter, Greywind was demoted and reassigned. Many decades passed until the Third Emperor called upon her again, more out of desperation than a desire to reconcile. Eighth Dawn needed Greywind’s powers of persuasion to compel the Traditionalists to compromise with the Viscounts of Deinar, all to secure extra funding for the imperial government. And she succeeded. This earned her the right to rise through the ranks by way of the Sorimi tracks, which did not sit well with Traditionalists who believe rank ought to be bestowed to those who earn it through military triumph. Greywind’s political career seemed at a good start. But then rumors rose that Greywind employed unorthodox methods.”

“Unorthodox how?”

“Greywind seems reasonable with those who seem agreeable with her. However, in the face of adversity, she was venemous. Worse yet, some of her successes could only be attributed to the goss that she was an intimidator, exploiting others’ fears in order to force them into submission. Furthermore, the higher she climbed the ranks, the more she began to assert her authority. This goss seemed to gain credibility when it was revealed that Greywind ordered the termination of select individuals to weaken axis factions or political oppositions to properly coordinate. This she did without approval from her own superiors. She justified she was employing preemptive countermeasures to defend the central authority of Deinar, but Universalists and Traditionalists accused her of committing illegal acts of aggression.”

“Then why wasn’t she prosecuted?”

“Because she appealed to higher authorities, making convincing cases in her favor. When it comes to judicial matters, Loroi are more concerned with the spirit of the law than enacting it to the letter. The application of their rules is subjective.”

Having spent enough time with the Loroi, Alex found it hard to argue with that. “So a Loroi lawbreaker could potentially explain away her misconduct.”

Walker leaned forward, his expression softening, seemingly satisfied. “Behold the shortcomings of Loroi justice.”

Alex shook his head in denial. “But even so, Greywind was only doing her duty,” he rationalized. “She might have made mistakes, but she was protecting the Union. Even human intelligence agencies have had to sometimes deviate, but it was for public safety. It was necessary.”

Walker raised a questionable eyelid in a surprisingly human way. “Was it? Let us use a more relatable example. As I understand from your archives, there once existed an intelligence agency on your homeworld called the Central Intelligence Agency. Correct?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. How did you-”

“Research,” Walker answered cooly. “Now… this Central Intelligence Agency was responsible for collecting, analyzing and disseminating intelligent information pertaining the safety of its host nation, as well as combating criminal and terrorist elements. If it was so good, why then was it dismantled?”

Alex called back on his history lectures at the academy. He sighed, “As I learnt in school, Earth’s nations needed a new kind of international organization that would strengthen their alliances and discourage international conflicts. Hence why the Earth One Corp was founded. Amidst its attempts to cooperate with other intelligence agencies, including the CIA, it faced a roadblock. The CIA had long history of controversial covert actions, human rights violations and lack of oversight. In the face of E1’s scrutiny and fury, the CIA had to be dismantled because its members refused to be held accountable.”

“So your Central Intelligence Agency was dissolved because it refused to be held accountable?” Walker observed. “Tell me, Alex, if a human was allowed to flourish even while breaking its own laws, would you still trust that human?”

Alex’s shoulders sank. “Not likely.”

“Then can you not see the problem we face? If the Loroi refuse to be held accountable, even when it violates the letter of their own laws, how can we Historians trust the Diadem not to abuse our knowledge or our tools?”

Alex called him out, “Then what about Bellermine and her crew? Should the Historians be held accountable for that?”

The Historian rose to his full height, folding his arms over his chest. "Neither I nor my personality construct were responsible for Bellermine's destruction. We Historians and those few responsible for the death of your crew have been forced to pay the penalty more than you can fathom."

Alex scowled. "I seriously doubt that."

"We understand now that destroying Bellermine was a grave, tactical mistake motivated by a lack of understanding. Those responsible would have never killed your crew had they been aware that humanity was already aware of the war and sent more scouts. But it was done in the hope that it would conceal humanity's existence and spare it the burden of the war."

Despite his lingering anger, Alex was curious. "Why let me live then?"

"Because by the time the Loroi discovered you, there was no point in trying to conceal humanity's existence any longer. Besides, attempting to harm you would have only made things worse. My avatar's hope, and by extension my hope, was to safely deliver you to Moro where you could appeal to the Alien Assembly."

"But can't you see?! That would've weakened the Loroi military."

"It is you who still fails to see the bigger picture, Alex! We Historians meddled in the affairs of both warring sides. Not to worsen the war, but to bring it to an end and force the Loroi and Umiak into a truce. Had you followed Zigai Mozin and my personality construct to Moro, we could have drawn more support toward more peaceable solutions and ended the war. And it all could have been done without jeopardizing the Loroi's defensive fleet. But now, thanks to you, years of work have been undone."

Alex was nearly at a loss for words. "I... that... that's not true! The Umiak would have never stopped! They would have laid waste to the whole Union just like Seren!"

"No doubt! But they couldn't keeping advancing forever! The Umiak Hierarchy may have had the fastest industrial capacity... but their way of life was completely unsustainable. The Martinets, who were finally beginning to feel the war's devastation, knew this and were merely delaying their empire's inevitable collapse. We Historians offered them aid relief in exchange for an eventual ceasefire."

Alex was aware that the Historian could very well be lying. And yet his claims seemed sensible. Could a mysterious alien race that favored peace over war be malicious at its core? Was it justifiable to conspire and double-deal in the interest of stopping a destructive conflict? If the motives were true, then maybe. But even so, Alex refused to acknowledge he unknowingly sabotaged peace efforts.

"I still don't trust you,” Alex said firmly.

Walker gurgled out another frustrated groan. “I have said all that I can to convince you. You must decide for yourself what to do from here. But before we part, there is something you must know. In anticipation I might not return home, my associates have terminated my personality construct as a precaution.”

“You deleted it?”

“It is protocol to prevent our tools from falling into the wrong hands. But what the Historians do not know is that, following my departure, I created a new personality construct. Even as we speak it is making its way to Earth, where it will find refuge in the Terran networks. Its instructions are not to take further action unless specific conditions are met.”

This surprised Alex. “What?!”

“After today, you will have a choice, Alex. If you choose to remain in the Loroi’s service, the personality construct will terminate itself at an appointed time. But if you return to Earth, the personality construct will seek you out. In which case, you must submit a password to enable its activities.”

"What's the password?"

"The password is... 'I am human.'"

"Seriously?"

The Historian cackled something, like an internal thumping within his anatomy. "Seems appropriate enough."

Alex was baffled. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because after the Loroi are done screening my mind today, and the truth is revealed, I believe you will heed my warning.”

“When what truth is revealed?”

“You will see soon enough.”

Walker moved toward the antechamber door, about to signal their finished conversation to the guards outside.

Alex stopped him. “Walker, assuming anything you’ve said is the truth, why are you doing this? Why should I trust you?”

“Because, despite our differences,” said Walker, “we are more alike than you realize. Like you, I must fulfill my duty to protect what I cherish. And, in anticipation of the dangers that lie ahead, I must arm you with the necessary tools.”

“But why me? Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I may not be leaving this ship alive. But you will be leaving. And you must if you cherish your race’s future.”



The Praetorans escorted Alex and Historian Walker back to the reception hall. Alex solemnly returned to his spot beside his comrades. Tempo seemed to notice something amiss and asked, “Sillatozan, are you well?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replied. Outwardly he stood with pride and determination. Inwardly he was burning with questions. Something about this meeting did not feel right. Not that he distrusted Greywind or the Diadem, but rather the Historian. His words had left Alex confused, shaken. Alex reasoned that the long conversation they just shared was nothing more than an elaborate trick, a desperate means for the Historians to weaken the Human-Loroi alliance.

But if that was true, why share so many secrets that even the Loroi were not privy to?

Why offer him a personality construct to assist him?

Just what was at work?

The Emperor’s voice called out, “Historian Walker, you have been granted your private audience with Torrai Sillatozan Alexander Jardin. Has your first condition been satisfied?”

“As well as it can be,” Walker replied.

“Then it is time to fulfill your end of the bargain. As per your second condition, you may choose any Loroi here to inspect your mind.”

Walker spared no time in pointing her out. “I choose Teidar Pallan Fireblade.”

There were many gasps of surprise as many eyes turned toward the Unsheathed. Fireblade shifted, caught off guard.

Alex, suspecting something very amiss now, stood protectively in front of her. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Choose someone else!”

“She is the only Loroi I find acceptable to receive my truth,” Walker insisted.

Greywind interjected, “Ambassador Walker, you seem to be making Sillatozan Alexander uncomfortable. Surely you can choose another.”

“I have made my decision,” said Walker. “Honor the condition or you will receive nothing from me. And I keep my promises.”

The Emperor turned her gaze toward Fireblade. Alex was forced to stand aside as she made her way toward the Historian.

Beryl stood close, consoling Alex, “Do not fret, Alex. Fireblade can handle herself and she is not afraid. Besides, the Historian cannot hurt her.”

“But what if he can?” Alex wanted to ask, but the words did not come. He just watched, certain something was amiss.

His anxiety grew as Fireblade stepped closer, one boot after the other, until she stood just within arm’s reach of the Historian. Though he towered over her, she gazed up fearlessly into his eyes.

“Pallan Fireblade is ready, Ambassador,” said Greywind. “Assume a comfortable position and prepare to lay your mind bare for her inspection.”

Walker obliged, crouching down, folding his arms in, leaning his massive head forward. “You may proceed,” he said, shutting his eyes.

Fireblade outstretched her hand and, hesitating only a moment, pressed her palm against the Historian’s forehead. Her eyes blazed brilliant jade, the air around her person illuminated, casting her in a jaded halo.

Loroi shifted excitedly as they witnessed this historic event. Even the Diaderets leaned forward in their seats, anxious for their faithful Unsheathed to disclose all the Historian’s secrets.

Alex leaned toward Beryl, whispering, “How is she?”

“Fireblade is making entry. We are waiting for her analysis,” Beryl whispered back. “Ah! There it is! Fireblade is now confirming that the Historian Ambassador has been truthful thus far. The Historian government is… strange… not what we expected. It is not organized as we thought. The Historians and their counterparts are… complex.” Her eyes flashed wide open.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked.

“Nothing,” Beryl assured. But she looked shaken. “I just… amazing! So much information! So difficult for Fireblade to grasp it all. For me to process… incredible! The Historians… their society… their oversight…”

Alex watched with concern as Fireblade’s face, usually hardened and stubborn, eased into curiosity and blissful wonder. She pressed deeper in, the Historian twitching occasionally as if adjusting to her intrusion.

Many assembled Loroi gasped with amazement, receiving Fireblade’s broadcasts.

“Stars!” Beryl gasped, equally astounded. “Alex… if only you could see this! It’s so much bigger than we ever imagined. So much in so little a territory compared to our own.”

What no one else suspected, save for Tempo and Greywind, was that Alex was receiving Fireblade’s sending. Their many delves into the dreamscape had enhanced his receptiveness.

His imaginary perception received a clairvoyant image of the Historians. Just as Walker claimed, they were not the ruling class, but a single order operating within a larger conglomerate. Their authority was limited by the constitutional rights their profession was entitled to or their number of liberties in their treasury. Rights and privileges was their conglomerate’s currency. Orders traded liberties frequently. There even existed a bizarre accounting system that debited and credited these privileges to ensure the equitable distribution of power.

Yet the Historians’ true wealth lay not within their treasury of tradable liberties. Their true treasure, indeed the very power of their order, was history. Not merely history confined to their race or their civilization, but all knowable history.

The bulk of the Historians’ influence and sway over the other orders lied upon their dependency of entire cities of thinking machines, primarily monitored and operated by an incomprehensible population of personality constructs. From the moment they were conceived, personality constructs were sworn to their biological counterparts, eager to aid the Historians in harvesting every learnable thing.

The Historains were the keepers of history. Their personality constructs were the masters of psychohistorical analysis. The more they learnt, the more zealous their commitment to defending the archives of history.

While the Historians and their algorithmic avatars were devoted to steering others away from disaster, not everyone heeded their council, especially outsiders. Among these ignorant outsiders were the Umiak and the Loroi.

Since the start of the Great War, the Historians were locked in an endless debate of how to deal with this geo-political crisis. The other orders only realized the urgency of this cataclysm when the Umiak breeched their territory, compelling them to sell a considerable number of liberties for dirt cheap, all to afford the Historians all the resources and mobility they needed to rectify this disaster.

The Historians simulated countless scenarios, their synthetic creations hard at work to factor in every variable, from the macroscopic movements of naval fleets to the minute decisions of influential persons, particularly the rulers of the Hierarchy and the Union. Amidst their speculations, the Historians and their counterparts found the most appealing solution:

Compromise with both warring empires, offer trade and council to keep both sides focused on each other, until the Umiak and Loroi exhausted themselves. Then offer both sides aid relief for the price of reconciliation. Peace would be restored.

The plan had a good chance of success. But then humanity achieved starflight faster than anticipated and entered the war.

With their predictive models thrown into disarray, the Historians paid a hefty price with their liberties to appease the other infuriated orders. They reconvened to simulate the most likely future, confirming their fears. While not as appalling as the exploitive and pollutive Umiak Hierarchy, the Loroi Union’s militant culture fueled by imperialist dogma would only drive the Loroi to expand larger and faster than ever before. Their fear of outsiders combined with their vengeful demeanors amplified an even greater risk; the Loroi would eventually seize the opportunity and find just cause to invade Historian space.

To safeguard history and shield all that they loved, the Historians had only one logical course of action. Wall themselves in, keep out the invaders, just long enough until the Loroi Union destabilized and cannibalized itself.

Alex could no longer stay relaxed, conflicted yet appalled at what he saw. What Fireblade saw.

The Unsheathed released Walker, her eyes furious.

“Before you judge me, I have one last gift for you,” Walker told Fireblade. “The truth of those you serve!”

Though reluctant, Fireblade pressed her hand against the Historian’s skull, reengaging her delve into his mind. Her brow furrowed, confused.

Alex was no longer receiving with the same relaxed clarity, but watched, eager to know what game Walker was playing at. “Beryl, what’s happening now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Beryl replied. “Fireblade is no longer broadcasting her findings like before. She seems… confused. She must have found something unexpected!”

Fireblade suddenly jumped back, as if horrified of the Historian.

“What now?!” Alex demanded an answer.

“Fireblade seems terrified,” said Beryl, her voice cracking with uncertainty and discomfort. “Now she’s in denial! But denial of what?! She is not conveying her thoughts properly!”

The Emperor commanded, “Teidar Pallan Fireblade, that is enough! Cease your activity at once!”

But Fireblade, despite her apparent fear, slowly moved back toward the Historian. Walker allowed her to reenter his mind, to show her what he wanted her to see.

“Pallan,” Greywind repeated, “stop! You are clearly in distress! There is no need to continue.”

Fireblade’s body trembled, eyelids clamped shut to poorly conceal a growing anger. A voiceless sob scraped its way past her trembling lips.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Alex abandoned his spot to rush to his friend’s aid, with Tempo and Beryl in tow. He tore Fireblade’s arm away from the Historian. Walker collapsed, gasping for air as he recovered from Fireblade’s intense intrusion.

“Fireblade? You all right?” Alex asked with great concern, tapping her shoulder. Her gaze seemed transfixed on the Historian, yet it seemed distant, lost. Alex waved a hand in front of her face. “Hey, hey, hey! Come on, Red! Come back to us! What’s wrong?!”

Beryl and Tempo stared intently at their shaken comrade, clearly sending their concerns.

Slowly the Unsheathed turned her eyes on Alex. Her jaded gaze, dimming back to dull green, were aggrieved, bankrupt of hope. That despairing look turned toward the seated members of the Diadem as Fireblade took a cautious step in their direction.

“W-what’s happening?” Alex asked Tempo.

“I… cannot say for certain,” Tempo replied, her otherwise composed tone betrayed her worry.

Fireblade took another cautious step toward the Diadem, her eyes solely focused on the Emperor.

Beryl squinted, baffled. Alex took note, asking, “Beryl, what’s going on?”

“I’m… very confused. Fireblade, is inquiring, but her sending feels uncomposed, disrupted by an overbearing emotion.”

“What kind of emotion?” Alex required no answer as he suddenly sensed something. He did not have to be in his calm state of mind in order to feel a brewing sense of dread and anger, but not of his own. His imaginary perception gave way to a gaseous fog brewing in the vicinity of his person. Even from a seemingly safe distance, Alex felt poisonous embitterment. The fog began to glow. Alex could see it glow with escalating intensity, not with his eyes. He felt its terrible burn, not with his skin. He could smell the fumes of rage and betrayal, not with his nose. He tasted the rancor of injustice, not with his tongue.

In that moment of terrible clarity, a clarity he kept to himself, he heard Fireblade for the first time in his conscious state.

<Is it true?> Fireblade sent.

Alex begged Tempo and Beryl, “For God’s sake, tell me what’s happening!”

But Tempo and Beryl, indeed every Loroi present, were speechless at this display of enragement as Fireblade took another step toward Greywind. The Praetorans, suspecting hostile intent, formed a protective line in front of the Emperor.

Alex received more. But his conscious mind could only decipher fragments polluted with vindictive rage:

<…true?!>

<Did you have…>

<…abandon…>

<…had more than enough…>

<…Seren!>

<You chose… >

<…left us to die…>

<We suffered…>

<…the Shells!>

<I lost…>

<…my mother!>

Alex’s gaze moved toward the Emperor, who simply stared back at Fireblade with indifference. Whatever she was sending back, Fireblade clearly did not like.

Alex’s mind felt lucidly scorched as Fireblade suddenly combusted. She charged the Emperor. The very floor dented and creaked under the weight of the power she unsheathed.

The Praetorans struck back, shimmering in a rainbow of their psychic display. Fireblade was forcefully thrown back, crashing to the floor. Fireblade’s eyes clamped shut, her body convulsing as Tempo’s head was awash in an aura of hypnotic waves, eyes burning ruby red.

The Praetorans moved in with murderous intent. The Emperor rose swiftly from her seat, commanding with an outstretched hand, “Don’t kill her!”

Alex did not know what to do. His instinct was to rush to Fireblade’s aid, push Tempo off, and shield his friend from the encroaching Praetorans. But how could he, after Fireblade clearly attacked the Emperor? He turned toward Walker, who was slowly climbing back to his feet as he recovered from the Unsheathed’s uncomfortable intrusion.

“What did you do?!” Alex demanded of the Historian

The Emperor roared a similar inquiry, “Historian, what have you done?!”

Walker’s eerily calm reply: “We Historians have watched the movements of this war better than you! We do not know everything, but can safely deduce the motivations behind every action and every choice you made during the war! And now I depart with this final message from my associates: the Loroi and all their allies are barred from entering our territory! If the Loroi Union truly desires peace, you will make no attempt to invade us! You invite disaster if you try!”

The Emperor roared with outrage, “Conspiracy! Instigation! I order your arrest! Praetorans, seize him!”

More of the Emperor’s guard surrounded the Historian, unleashing their powers to immobilize him. Walker gurgled out something beyond their comprehension before he crumbled to the floor. His whole body trembled, his four arms and two legs flailing, his large skull smashing the deck in wild convulsions. His seizure stopped as did he.

A Praetoran knelt down, inspecting Walker’s body and announced after confirming, “The Historian is dead!”

Alex, overwhelmed with confusion, was brought out of his shock as Beryl yelled, “Alex! Alex, the Emperor is speaking to you!”

Alex turned toward Greywind. He awaited yet dreaded her instructions.

The Emperor ordered, “Sillatozan, take Fireblade off my ship! Now!”

[EdwardSteed]

I usually lurk but I just want to say I really enjoy the updates to this story and look forward to reading them. This latest double update is a great lore drop.

[Snoofman]

I usually lurk but I just want to say I really enjoy the updates to this story and look forward to reading them. This latest double update is a great lore drop.

Thank you, glad you have enjoyed it. When I started writing this chapter, there was just so much I needed to get down. It turned out to be too long, so had to be divided in two halves. Even after posting it, I wound up going back to edit and change a few details for consistency or when a better idea came along.

I've endeavored to improve my writing skills/style and hope I can keep you and other readers hooked.

[Snoofman]

Humanity's Envoy

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Alex was sworn into service by the Emperor and promoted to commodore, he was considered for numerous command ships. However, as the Diadem was reluctant to trust an outsider with a command ship armed with the wave loom device nor wished to impede his skills with outdated weaponry, Alex was granted command of the supercarrier Typhoon. His tactical brilliance made him ideal to assist the Loroi in both defensive roles during the war and leading system assaults during the Forward Campaign. Plus his friendly demeanor toward the Tenoins made it easier to coordinate Typhoon’s vast ordinance of smaller craft.

While Alex was honored to have been granted command of such a powerful ship, Typhoon’s limited acceleration and massive size hindered its mobility. It seemed a safe bet that the Diadem granted Alex command of the supercarrier only because its massive size and immense weight would hinder his ability to flee should he get the idea.

After the Historian’s revelation, Alex rushed back to Typhoon with his comrades. What followed after only escalated his confusion and concerns. Fireblade was erratically broadcasting her fury to every receptive mind aboard Typhoon, explosively spreading stories entailing acts of betrayal and deceit. Despite Tempo’s attempts to calm her, nothing could pacify Fireblade.

Alex, bewildered and afraid of what the Loroi could not precisely disclose judging by their own bewilderment and fear, confined Fireblade to her personal quarters. There he managed to get the Unsheathed to calm down and explain the cause of her distress. And was left speechlessly stunned at what he learnt.

The stories continued to circulate aboard Typhoon. At the Emperor’s behest, Alex was instructed to keep communications with his squadron to a minimum as well as any other ship to avoid escalating the situation.

Three days passed. The Emperor demanded Alex’s and Fireblade’s presence aboard Cry of the Wind. Alex did not know what to do.

Tempo met him privately in his personal cabin, sitting by his desk, head in his hands. “Sillatozan,” she said, “I have received a message from the Emperor. She is expecting you and Fireblade.”

Alex barely nudged, mumbling, “I know, Tempo.”

“Then… you understand the urgency of her instructions.”

“Yeah.”

“Then we must depart. I have already arranged for a shuttle to take us to Cry of the Wind.” Tempo huffed at Alex’s lack of compliance. “Alex! You must go!”

Alex finally looked up at Tempo, his eyes heavy and burdened. “Must I?”

Tempo sighed. “Alex… I do not need sanzai to see your distress. I understand your concerns.”

“Do you?”

“Truly, yes! This recent revelation concerning Seren-” Tempo searched for the right words. “It… has shaken the entire crew. Even me. But regardless of what transpired, I have faith that the Diadem acted with the best intentions.”

“Did it?”

“Alex, please, I beg you as a diplomat, a comrade… and a friend… to give the Emperor the benefit of the doubt and speak with her.”

Alex was silent a moment, contemplating. “Have a seat, Tempo. I’ll make us some noillir.”

“Alex, I don’t think we have time-”

“You want me to speak with Greywind,” Alex cut her off, “then share a bottle with me!”

Tempo huffed through her nostrils, taking a seat on a sofa. Alex handed her a bottle of boiling noillir as he sat beside her.

He took a tender sip and asked, “What’s happening outside?”

“Much,” Tempo replied, crossing her legs. “The Emperor has shared the details with me exclusively for your benefit.” That earned her a scoff from Alex. “According to Azerein, many commanders have been posing many questions, demanding a direct confirmation if the Historian’s revelation was in fact true.”

“So?”

“The Diadem will give an official disclosure at an appointed time. Meanwhile, the Emperor has dispatched select Nedatans to pacify the Loroi across the First Guard Squadron. They have been successful… mostly.”

Alex took another sip. “Mostly? Care to elaborate?”

Tempo tenderly clutched her bottle. “Sadly a few individuals… and I do mean a few… have been greatly shaken by this revelation as Fireblade has and could not be dissuaded from dissent. And so had to be… silenced.”

“Silenced? Is that the Mizol’s word for ‘executed?’”

“Alex, please, try to understand! This revelation was clearly strategic on the Historians’ part. They wanted Fireblade to know. Wanted you to know! They want to weaken our alliance!”

That got Alex’s attention as he eyed Tempo warily. “Is the alliance at risk? What have the aliens said?”

“The Emperor is making compromises with the alien delegates. She has agreed to discuss multilateral commerce rights regarding each subject nation’s contributions toward the war effort. In exchange, the delegates have given assurances that the Assembly will utilize their news distribution channels to counter any dissemination of this revelation.”

“You mean lie?”

Tempo groaned. “Not lie! But discourage any sapient from dissent.”

Alex scoffed, “Heh! Just like Earth’s politicians, being bought for their silence. What about the Terrans?”

“The Terrans have… seemed remarkably silent during this ordeal. Personally, I admire them for not aggravating the flames. However, they have been reluctant to exchange dialogue with the Diadem. In fact, they have announced their premature departure.”

That caught Alex’s attention. “They’re leaving?!”

“Today.”

Alex stared back at the floor, sipping his tea.

“Alex, you are the Emperor’s personal ambassador for humanity,” Tempo reminded him. “The Emperor has shared her concerns with me. She fears this revelation might compel your fellow humans to see us Loroi in a negative manner. The Terrans might misunderstand the Diadem’s actions.”

Alex regarded Tempo with a sharp look. “Has the Diadem’s handling of Seren been misunderstood?”

“Alex, I beg you, return to Cry of the Wind! Speak with the Emperor! Let us mend this wound, prevent it from widening into a more injurious tragedy. Think of what is at stake!”

Alex expelled his frustrations through his nostrils. “If I go to Cry of the Wind with Fireblade, what will happen to us?”

“That is up to the Emperor, Alex. But I can say with absolute certainty that she wishes to protect you both. But it requires your complete obedience and loyalty.”

Alex downed the rest of his tea. “I will speak with her. But I first I need two things from you, Tempo.”

“Whatever you need, Alex.”

“First, I need you to listen to a story.”

Tempo blinked, baffled by such a request. But replied, “Very well. And the second thing?”

“Finish your tea! ‘Cause you haven’t even taken a sip.”

Tempo took tentative sips of her noillir as she sat, patiently listening.

Alex rose from his cot, pouring himself more noillir from his kitchenette’s kettle. “Tell me, Tempo,” he said, filling his bottle, “have you ever read any fiction?”

“Most Loroi are not interested in false fables,” she replied, taking another sip.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Alex finished pouring, placing the kettle back into its slot within the kitchenette. “Have you ever read any fiction?”

“Sometimes it was required reading during my studies at the Mizol Academy. But more to immerse ourselves in alien cultures and better understand how aliens think and reason. Also to sharpen our analytical skills in order to distinguish fact from falsehood.”

“Hmph!” Alex smirked, chuckling. “Yeah, I’ve heard that from quite a few Loroi. Anyway, humans create and read fiction for a whole lot of reasons. For education, for fun, to convey new ideas or reimagine old ones. The reasons seem endless.” He took another sip from his bottle. “I remember from elementary school we were given the assignment to read a novel of our choosing and submit our own analysis. My father recommended an old story from his collection.”

“What was this story?” Tempo asked, taking another sip.

“Don’t remember the author’s name. Probably… Jim Clavo-something! Anyway, his novel I read was called ‘Shogun.’ The story follows a man from England who winds up shipwrecked in feudal Japan. Let’s call this man the Outsider. The Outsider is discovered by a band of Japanese warriors. They bring him to their master. During the time of this story, Japan was in a state of civil war, in which the lords were competing and undermining one another in order to become Shogun, the highest military and political power in all of Japan. While technically second to the rank of Emperor, the Emperor’s livelihood depended heavily on the will of the Shoguns. So the Shoguns held the most power.”

Tempo yawned.

“Am I boring you, Tempo?”

Tempo apologized, “I just feel mildly exhausted. Please continue.”

“Anyway, one feudal lord takes an interest in the Outsider, going so far as to take him into his house, giving him privileges in exchange for his service and to protect the lord’s loved ones. They go on many adventures, survive many battles, narrowly escaping capture or being outmaneuvered by their lord’s rivals. The Outsider is convinced that he is serving a noble cause, to bring peace to Japan by eliminating his lord’s rivals and uniting the whole nation. Even after the lord’s loved ones are sacrificed one by one, the Outsider still believes in the lord. But then something terrible happens.”

Tempo’s vision turned blurry, her eyes suddenly heavy. She blinked, rapidly trying to expel this sudden exhaustion, straining to listen to Alex’s tale.

Alex continued, “The lord initially promised the Outsider safe passage back to his home country after his service was complete. But then the Outsider discovers his ship, his only means of returning home, has been destroyed. Thereafter he has no choice but to remain in service to his lord until he can afford to build a new ship to take him home.”

Tempo felt unbearably tired now, her bottle cluttering to the floor as it slipped from her grasp. She struggled to erect herself, gazing at Alex. “A-Alex… I feel…”

Alex took a final sip from his bottle, setting it on his desk. “What the Outsider realizes too late is that the lord he served sabotaged his only means of escaping Japan.” Noticing Tempo keeling over, he rushed forward to catch her by the shoulders. “The lord, it turns out, intended to keep the Outsider trapped in Japan for the rest of his life. The lord, as revealed to the reader, sacrificed his loved ones and select supporters just so that he could be the next Shogun.”

Tempo tried to stand up, all strength leaving her person. “Alex, wh-what are you-”

“Ah, ah!” Alex cautioned, forcing her back onto the mattress. “Lie back before you hurt yourself! Lesson’s not over! The lesson this novel taught me was this: be quick to adapt to new environments, be patient in waging war, and most importantly, no matter how noble the cause, be slow to trust those in power. Especially if they’re willing to sacrifice the people who love them.” He added as an afterthought, “Oh, also don’t be somebody else’s caged monkey.”

Tempo mustered whatever strength she could to rise from the cot, but grew weaker with each passing solon. “A-Alex! Please-” She tried sending for help, but her mind felt foggy, her vision growing darker.

“Hush,” said Alex, kneeling by her side. “It’s alright. Just a little something I put in your tea. I like you, Tempo. I really do. I believe you would have protected me. But I also believe you would never let me go, just like Greywind. I’m nobody’s caged monkey.”

Tempo fought to her last woke moment before her eyelids shut and collapsed on the cot.

Alex leaned forward, tenderly kissing her forehead. “I will miss you, Tempo.” Tapping his wrist-comm, he sent a message.

Fireblade, Beryl, Talon and Flint entered his cabin, eying the incapacitated Mizol and their commanding officer.

Alex looked toward his friends. “She’s out,” he said. “You ready to go?”

Fireblade nodded, tapping her chest. The others gave their compliance.

"Flint, make sure Tempo stays unconscious. She'll do everything she can to stop us if she wakes."



Fireblade’s broadcast concerning the terrible truth she learnt aboard the mobile capital had created an atmosphere of uncertainty amidst the crew of Typhoon. Alex did not wish to exploit the warriors who trusted him with their lives. He would have preferred taking just a shuttle with himself and his few closest friends, but fleeing aboard a shuttle would make them vulnerable. Plus there would be no route of escape if they failed to rendezvous with the Terrans midst their departure.

There seemed only one way out; rash yet cunning.

Alex assumed his post as commanding officer as he entered Typhoon's bridge. Fireblade stood firmly by his side. Talon assumed her usual post as Alex’s executive officer. Beryl took over Tempo’s post at the Intelligence and Communication section. The Loroi within the bridge thought this change in routine odd, but carried on with their duties.

Upon Alex’s command, Beryl remotely connected the ship’s general announcing system to the inbuilt speaker in Alex’s armor. Typhoon hailed the rest of Checkmate Squadron, the face’s of Alex’s ship’s captains popping onto the holographic display one by one.

Alex’s voice resonated throughout the ship, “Attention, everyone! This is Torrai Sillatozan Alexander Jardin speaking. I need you all to listen carefully. When I swore myself into the Union’s service… I knew that circumstances beyond our control would lead us to potential peril. And together we have faced those perils valiantly. I could not ask for a better crew. But now… we face a new dilemma. A dilemma that each of you has no doubt been made terribly aware of. My fellow comrades, my next course of action teeters dangerously close to nothing less than sedition. And believe me when I say… I have no desire to fan the flames of dissent or rebellion. But what I do next… I must do. I have no right to ask any of you to risk your lives for me or those it concerns. You who have already risked and sacrificed too much for the most terrible war this Union has endured. But at this moment, I ask only… that each and every one of you stays her post for as long as you can endure. And whatever comes to pass, I need you to know… serving alongside each and every one of you has been my greatest honor.”

Beryl terminated the ship-wide announcement. The ship’s captains on display offered confused looks. Many eyes on the bridge, filled with admiration or uncertainty, fell on Alex. Fireblade stared sternly, ordering their eyes on their monitors.

“Mallas Talon,” said Alex, “what’s the status of the Terran vessels?”

Talon sent and awaited reply. “Tactical and navigation confirms they are nearing the jump point at the system’s edge.”

“Saszet Beryl, get a message out to them. Tell them to hold position and delay jump. Alert them to an emergency rendezvous.”

Beryl complied, “Yes, Sillatozan!”

Alex addressed his ship’s captains directly, “Attention, all members of Checkmate Squadron! Prepare to change course and follow Typhoon.”

“For what purpose, Typhoon?” Torret Hotbrand asked.

“You will see soon enough, Halberd! Please acknowledge the command!”

Torret Treestump spoke up, “Sillatozan, I must protest! We must know the purpose of diverting course!”

Alex said firmly, “Clearbrook! I ask only that you follow the chain of command. Now… please acknowledge.”

Treestump looked offscreen, clearly distressed, but complied. “Acknowledged, Typhoon!”

“Halberd, at the ready,” Hotbrand sounded off.

The rest of the ship’s captains gave their compliance.

“Mallas Talon,” Alex ordered, “break away from First Guard’s formation and take us in the direction of the Terran ships, toward the jump point.”

Talon replied, “Affirmative, Sillatozan!”

Alex looked up on the holographic display, where Cry of the Wind loomed overhead. Watched as it slowly grew smaller, receding into the black until it moved out of view completely along with the rest of First Guard Squadron. As Typhoon abandoned its post, rotating away from First Guard, the holographic display magnified to show twelve Terran ships outbound.

“Saszet,” Alex addressed Beryl, “any response from the Terrans?”

“The Terran vessel, Victory, has just acknowledged our request. They are decelerating near the jump point and await our-” Beryl’s eyes dashed toward an alert on one of her monitors. “Commodore, incoming message from Cry of the Wind!”

“On screen!”

The less than pleased face of the Emperor flashed onto the holographic display. “Attention, Typhoon! This is Torrai Azerein Greywind. You and Checkmate Squadron have broken formation without instruction or permit. Stand down and explain your actions!”

Alex stared firmly at the Emperor. “Azerein,” his voice stern, “due to unfortunate, recent events, I am compelled to take a drastic but necessary course of action.”

“And what action might that be, Commodore?” Greywind’s voice was icy.

“As the Emperor’s personal ambassador for humanity, it is my duty to ensure the continued stability of the Human-Loroi alliance. A duty you bestowed upon me personally. May it assure you to know that I take this responsibility very seriously. However, I fear I cannot fulfill this task within an environment that clearly suffers from a conflict of interests. Therefore, as your personal ambassador, I have decided to conduct my work in Terran space. I will personally give your best regards to Earth and all her peoples.”

The Emperor’s chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply. “Commodore, you have not been granted an exit permit. Stand down and return to First Guard’s formation! Thereafter, Typhoon must prepare to be boarded. You, Sillatozan, will be escorted along with Teidar Pallan Fireblade to Cry of the Wind.”

“Azerein, unable to comply!”

Greywind’s scowl deepened. “Then you leave me no choice. Attention, crew of Typhoon! The Emperor speaks! Torrai Sillatozan Alexander Jardin is relieved of duty. You are to ignore any and all orders from him. Return to First Guard’s formation immediately!”

Alex raised his hand. “Azerein, wait! I will reconsider… but only if you cancel that order and grant me the courtesy of a more private conversation.”

The Emperor’s gaze narrowed. “Attention, Typhoon! Ignore that last command and carry on. Commodore, we will share a word by secure link in your aft office. You have five-hundred-twelve solons to comply.” The Emperor’s face vanished from screen.

“Mallas Talon, you have the bridge,” said Alex. Talon acknowledged. Alex turned to Fireblade. “Come on, Red!”

The two proceeded to the aft office. The doors sealed behind them, granting them full privacy. Alex activated the room’s holo-comm. Over an encrypted transmission, the Emperor flashed back into existence.

“Commodore, now we are-” Greywind stopped mid-sentence upon noticing Fireblade. “-not as alone as I had hoped.”

“Oh, don’t worry, your imperial highness,” assured Alex. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to Fireblade.”

Greywind expelled a huff of annoyance. “Alex, I know what you’re doing.”

Alex crossed his arms. “And what am I doing, Emperor?”

“Alex, I warn you! Don’t play with me! You tread on very dangerous ground!”

“I said I would reconsider returning to formation. So then… here’s your chance to give me reason. And it starts with a question.”

Greywind’s raspy voice grew raspier with venom, “Ask then.”

“What Historian Walker disclosed to Fireblade concerned Seren, specifically the Hierarchy’s occupation. I know this because I felt it. I didn’t receive everything from Fireblade in my woke state, but I received enough. Now you’re going to tell me what you know about Seren. And you can forget about my cooperation if you me give anything but the whole truth!”

Greywind was as stiff and resolute as a statue, her gaze fixed on Alex, swinging to Fireblade. She shut her eyes, expelling frustration through her nostrils. “It’s complicated, Alex.”

“Try to make it simple then,” he replied.

Greywind fixed her gaze squarely on Alex and explained, “During the siege of our colonies, the Sentinels and Teidars still dwelling therein fought against the Umiak whilst living under concealment. This the Diadem learnt and approved thanks to encrypted transmission enabled through our concealed buoys still functioning in those star systems. This gave us an accurate picture of what was happening on the colonies, including Seren. It gave the Diadem a limited but effective opportunity to coordinate our forces surviving under siege. Guerrilla warfare and concealed probing attacks could weaken the Umiak’s occupation, but it required more numbers. We instructed our operatives to enlist the aid of civilians and to organize mass resistance. But the civilians needed motivation. Needed hope. So the operatives relayed to the civilians on our behalf: ‘Keep fighting! Help is on the way!’”

Alex scowled. “But the help came too late. Why?”

“Alex, I have said it many times; the Loroi and its allies could not amass a sufficient force in time-”

“Don’t lie to me!” He pointed to Fireblade. “And more importantly, don’t lie to her! Because you had enough forces! You had more than enough!”

Greywind sighed. “As you know, the Diadem and I succeeded in reforming the Union and revitalized war production industries. We amassed sufficient forces and weaponry to counter the Umiak. Initially the Diadem and I planned to launch a counterattack and rescue our colonies long before Semoset. But it faced a logistical problem and was hindered by civic disputes.”

“How so?”

“Many across the Union were refusing to comply with the Diadem’s demands. Particularly alien organizations whose support and funding we needed. Coercing or threatening them would have only worsened our cause. But if we allowed this resistance to escalate, it would hurt the war effort. Reclaiming the spinward colonies and rescuing the occupants would have been a short-lived victory. To defend the Union, we needed every ally united against our common enemy. To do that, we needed every sapient to believe that the Umiak were worse than Loroi. The Diadem convened in private, speculating every course of action. And we found one!

“When the Loroi unleashed acts of aggression against the Mannadi, the other aliens reacted quickly, uniting to oppose an act of genocide. Hence why the Alien Assembly was founded, to defend the rights and dignities of sapients. What if the Unionist aliens could be persuaded to unite against a new aggressor? A new kind of genocide?”

Alex’s arms fell to his sides. Despite what he already suspected, hearing it from the one Loroi he trusted and served worsened his devastation. “So you knew the Umiak would react violently to armed resistance,” he uttered, voice cracking. “You discreetly instructed the Mizols to encourage the civilians under Umiak occupation to rebel, knowing full well they were going to die as a result!”

Greywind crossed her arms. “Neither of you may believe me. But I swear on my honor that the decision was not an easy one.”

“Honor?!” Alex’s voice broke with distraught fury. “That you should presume to have even a shred of honor… after abandoning the very people you are sworn to protect… is an insult to every Serenid, living or dead! You left the Serenids to die, along with the other colonies! You sacrificed them after promising them salvation!”

Greywind unfolded her arms. “Their sacrifice was not in vain! Because the scheme worked. When the Alien Assembly finally saw just how brutal and relentless our enemy was, they conceded with little protest. They swore to abide by our reformations because they finally understood this was a war for survival. And we swore to protect them, as we always have.”

Alex shook his head. “Not all of them!”

Fireblade’s lips trembled, fists clenching as she glared hatefully through bleary eyes.

“Whatever you two may think of me,” said Greywind, “the sight of the dead devastated me when I finally arrived on Seren. The Council and I have done all we can to compensate the surviving Serenids for their losses and sorrows. I have carried the burden of this deed knowing full well, should the truth ever come to light, I would have no right to ask for forgiveness.”

“Awfully decent of you,” Alex muttered.

“Alex, Fireblade, come back to me,” Greywind ordered. “Return to Cry of the Wind and I swear on my life that we will mend this.”

Alex crossed his arms again. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t trust you to protect Fireblade.”

Greywind raised a cautionary finger. “Alex, I warn you! If you defy me, you will become my enemy! Do not provoke me to violence!”

“I do not seek to provoke you,” Alex assured. “Nor do I seek to be your enemy, despite the terrible things you’ve done. Which is why I advice you now… it is in your best interests to just let us go!”

“And how might that be?”

“By now Fireblade’s story has circulated throughout Typhoon. Every receptive crew member aboard is aware of your deeds. Even now there are many questioning and doubting the Diadem. Many will never fall back in line no matter what you do. Tempo herself confirmed that you violently put down a few deviants throughout the fleet.”

“Where is Tempo now?”

“Have no fear! Flint is transporting her safely to you. Please do not punish Flint for simply obeying her superior officer. Tempo also warned me that this revelation may give the Terrans pause to trust the Loroi. It could weaken the alliance. So here is my proposal: I officially remain your personal ambassador for humanity. You grant us and those who wish to follow us leave of permit. We will show the residents of Earth, the very seat of human authority, that the Loroi only wish to be friends with those humans worth defending.”

Greywind bitterly digested Alex’s proposal. “You are clever with words, Enzin. But even I don’t need sanzai to see through this mask. What you propose is nothing less than defection.”

“The mask isn’t what matters, Emperor,” Alex urged. “What matters is the story! And right now everyone is watching us. The Terrans! The First Guard! The aliens! Everyone! You try and stop us, they will only see an oppressor out to silence those who question her. You let us go, and you will convince them that you are a benevolent Emperor. And an empire needs a benevolent Emperor if that empire is to recover.”

Greywind turned her back, pacing away as her cape trailed after her. She stood in glum silence a long while, contemplating, before facing Alex and Fireblade again. “If you do this,” she warned, “even if I vouch for it, you will be regarded you as defectors. There will be no promise of leniency or pardon should we ever meet again.”

Alex shrugged. “We’ll deal with it.”

"And what about Typhoon? What about the ships of Checkmate Squadron?"

"What about them?"

"They are Imperial property. I cannot just let you take them!"

"Well, hate to tell you this, but there's not enough room onboard the Terran ships for all of us!"

Greywind narrowed her gaze.

Alex threw his hands up, groaning, "Ugh! You can bill us if you like!"

“Return to Typhoon's bridge,” Greywind instructed. “I must address all of Checkmate Squadron.”

Alex and Fireblade obeyed, leaving the aft office and stood center floor of the upper deck. Beryl relinked with every one of Alex’s captains per his instruction.

The Emperor flashed back into view on the bridge’s display. “Attention, Checkmate Squadron,” the Emperor spoke. “This is an important announcement that concerns every one of your crew members. By the authority of the Emperor, I grant Alexander Jardin leave of permit in the hope that he will strengthen the Human-Loroi alliance as my personal ambassador. All of you are free to follow him. But hear this! The moment you enter Terran territory, you willingly forfeit all ranks and privileges. Henceforth each and every one of you will be demoted to civilian class with limited emissarial authority. If you do not wish to participate in this, here is your only chance to return to the First Guard… now! Sillatozan, I trust that you will give those who do not join you transport back to us. Especially Tempo!”

Alex tapped his chest. “Certainly, Azerein!”

“Then you may proceed.” The Emperor terminated their link, vanishing from sight.

Alex breathed deeply, exhaling a hefty sigh. “So then,” he sounded off with a loud clap, rubbing his palms, “who’s staying and who’s leaving?”



Two ships abandoned Checkmate Squadron, making their way back to the First Guard fleet. Dozen's of Typhoon's crew members expressed their desire to return to First Guard, which Alex honored.

Tempo, still incapacitated, was brought aboard a shuttle in Typhoon’s hangar, where Fireblade and Beryl strapped her into a passenger seat. Dozens more Loroi not making the journey filed into the shuttle. In the cockpit, Talon hopped into the pilot’s seat, flipping switches and tapping holographic panels as she prepped the craft for departure. Behind her stood Alex and Flint.

“You sure you can fly this thing?” Alex asked.

“Affirmative,” Flint replied confidently. “Talon gave me a basic lecture to maneuver this craft. Should I experience any problems, I can always activate the distress beacon.”

“Are you sure you won’t come with us, Flint?”

“No matter what the Emperor or the Council have done, the Union is my home, Sillatozan. My place is here. My duty lies here.”

“Even if you are taken into custody and put on trial?”

Flint scoffed out a laugh, “Trial for what? I obeyed a superior officer and transported my comrades back to safety. Besides, even if I were right to try and stop you, I would less than likely succeed. In the end, I did only what seemed sensible.”

Alex chuckled. “Clever Flint!” He outstretched his hand. “If only there was something I could do to repay you for all that you’ve done for me. For all of us!”

Flint firmly grasped Alex’s hand, surprising him as she closed the space between them to plant a solid and passionate kiss on his lips. “If only you were born Loroi, conceiving a child with you would have been your greatest gift. But a kiss will suffice.”

Alex smiled sadly. “I will miss you, Flint. Whatever comes to pass, I hope you will be happy and safe.”

Flint laughed. “This war and protecting you has taught me a warrior’s path is never safe. But it is the most rewarding. It has been an honor, Protector of the Garden.”

Alex, Fireblade, Beryl and Talon bid their farewells, leaving Flint as she climbed into the pilot’s seat. Alex stole one last look at Tempo, dozing in her seat. He wished he could give her a proper farewell. Disembarking back onto Typhoon through the umbilical, they watched from the observatory deck as the shuttle disconnected and departed. Alex wiped his bleary eyes.

“Alex, are you crying?” Talon asked.

“Uh, of course not,” he said. “Just… I wish it didn’t have to go down like this.”

Beryl spoke up, “Fireblade directs me to say, ‘Steel yourself, Alex. We still have a long journey ahead of us’ Indeed, Fireblade seems right. We should get under way. The Terran vessels will not wait forever.”

Alex breathed in a lung full of determination. “To Earth then!”