Nai Kolkata, Eight Months before Present Time

"Don't talk." She brooded, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders like a wave crashing against the shore as she faced away from him to put on her bra. Once it was on, she snapped back around, looking at him as if it were entirely his fault that they fucked.

"You told me not to talk, Marissa" Laz replied with a smirk. She looked more distraught than angry. "I don't know." she said, slipping into a slim green shirt. It formed to her in a way that was somehow looked sexier than the nudity beneath. "It's just... your brother is so cold. I want to love him. I am supposed to love him. We live in the same house, We have..." She paused, "But he's just... I don't think he knows what love is." she embraced him, laying her head against his shoulders.

"He's a cold fish." Laz assured her. It was true. Marcus Paladino was a Special Agent under the intelligence wing of the Interplanetary Union. That was not only his job; it was also his identity. Before he joined the IU, when they were still children, Marcus had been just as dull. He never joked, nor did he laugh. He never really even had friends. Back then, he spent his days reading and exploring virtual recreations of the most incredibly dull subjects. Whereas Laz had enjoyed seeing the classic recreates - Lindisfarne, D-Day, the Martian Gambit - Marcus had insisted on loading into headier, academic things. He liked the Library of Alexandria, or the Inauguration of John F. Kennedy. He liked them, but they never made him smile. How he had managed to marry anybody at all, let alone a nest of emotions like Marissa, was nothing short of amazing.

Portraits of both brothers hung on the wall. Seeing Marcus, it wasn't as confusing why Marissa had fallen for him at first. He was tall, handsome, with shoulders like an athlete and a jaw chiseled from stone. In grey-blue dress uniform, with the moody greatcoat of Interplanetary Union Intelligence, he looked like more than a great catch. And with a career like his, he certainly could afford to take her to places that covered up the utter lack of personality that dwelled beneath that well-groomed body.

Laz was a grinning fool by comparison. He couldn't help but smirk for photos, and he had made the same face for every one of them since he was a kid. With a head of thick, well-combed black hair on his head and the bony face that looked like, as his mother used to say, "A Comedian", he had always been taken as the flippant brother. Today, however, everybody was here to celebrate his career.

"When we go out there, no eye contact." she said sternly. "I don't want anybody expecting a thing. They think I slept in Marcus's old room."

"I'll go in and ruffle the bed." he joked. She ignored him and walked out

Laz examined the room one more time, making sure there was no evidence of what they had done here. It was, like the rest of the apartment, the typical Nai Kolkata design. The walls where a pastel blue, as was the artificially warmed floor. The ceiling was an integrated LED panel so that the lighting in the room could be adjusted. It was dimmed now, to fit the mood of what they been doing. Though the trim was decorated in the playful, serpentine way that Kolkatan design was known for, the furniture decoration of the room didn't necessarily match. Most striking among it all was an empty desk whose design and scuffed condition suggested it was an antique. Earth-made. Likely IKEA.

He slipped his padded dress shirt over his head and quickly straightened it in the mirror. IU Uniforms were a light grey-blue and streamlined in such a way where the only seams were two thick lines running up the front of the shirt and opening outward like the top of a pitcher. He wasn't sure if he looked proud or ridiculous in this get up. Really, it was a mix of both. He straightened the stiffened collar and left the room, walking briskly through his parents home until he reached the balcony.

The smell of roasting pork and vegetables. Friends and relatives had gathered to congratulate him, and they all cheered as he stood there smiling like a fool. The balcony was decorated with streamers, helium balloons, dyed paper windsocks hanging from the dragon heads that topped the ornately carved soapstone railing, and tiny robots danced on every table, popping and locking, sliding, twerking, and shimmying as they shot holographic fireworks so lifelike that it looked like a miniature arrival display show. Even now that he was in his twenties, his mother could not help but treat every celebration as if it was a child's birthday party.

"There he is." he heard his father shout. "Our spaceman!"

"Hows it feel, not having to escort tourist ships across the safe-zone anymore?" his uncle Stieg chuckled. Standing in the shadow of his bear-sized uncle, Laz could see his cousin hovering, looking away from him. She had never spoke more than two words to him after what they learned together when they were thirteen.

"I'm going to miss it." he grinned, "There aren't as many girls in space."

"Lazarus, behave" his mother giggled, waddling over to him and slapping him lightly on the cheek. "If you talk like that i'm going to have to come with you as a chaperone."

"Uncle Laz" a little girl came pattering across the deck, a crunchy candy crust lining her mouth. "Uncle Laz, I'm sorry daddy couldn't be here. He had to work." she was young, approaching her fifth birthday. "I know about space, if you want to know what I know."

"What do you know?" He stooped, looking her in the eye. Behind her he could see her mother, Marissa, watching uncomfortably.

"I know that Broomerpurey is a gas planet" she said, pointing up at Brahmapura; an sphere of pink-brown swirls that accompanied - and often dominated - the dull-orange sun in the sky. "It's big like this, see." She blew up her cheeks and stretched out her arms as if she was hugging a tree. Laughing, Laz mussed her hair and stood up at the same moment a Guardian Patroller whizzed overhead.

He watched it go, disappearing toward the business district that perfectly centered Nai Kolkata. Most of the buildings were obscured by the long, copy-pasted rows of apartment complexes that differed only in color and in the statues and gargoyles that decorated them. Many of the buildings were further differentiated from the others by complex murals that covered most of the wall surface. The urban sprawl was broken up by dozens of monuments, parks, statuaries, and fountains. From it's inception, Nai Kolkata had done it's best to keep from being as soulless as the overpopulated cities of Earth.

At the center of it all, dwarfing the the city that surrounded it, the City Center with its government and business districts glowed on the horizon

Skyscrapers on Earth had once been cold buildings with edifices of steel, glass, and concrete. Nai Kolkata had avoided this all together. The city center, rather than looking grey and imposing, had the color an design that one would expect to see in the window of a dessert shop. The buildings were colorful, ranging from soft pastels to harsher, brighter colors. There were few flat lines on them as well, as most had been designed to look geometric or serpentine, and those that weren't were instead trimmed with friezes and statues. The Capital Building itself, with its soft orange-red color, its walls that tapered inward as it rose, or it's rounded, arching top, and layers constantly trimmed with complex rows of jagged statues, made it look like a tall, sugary wedding cake from far away.

"So, the Shiva road, eh?" his uncle Stieg clasped him on the shoulder. "That's a long route. Two hundred billion kilometers away through mostly black."

Laz nodded. "I'll have to bring a book." he joked.

Stieg nodded. "Space is a bitch. You can't imagine how big it is until you are there, and it scares you how far everything really is." he thought for a moment. "I think we stopped at Shiva when we came here, after..." The mood between them grew suddenly sad.

"Dad doesn't remember earth." Laz said.

"He was still an infant." Stieg said, "I don't remember much. Just flashes. I remember the lights. The explosions. I remember being scared, and seeing those things behind us, pouncing on those who were lagging behind. That was all in space. I really don't remember Earth."

"I guess that is good." Laz suggested.

Stieg shook his head. "I think it is much worse."

"Bacon is ready" Laz's father called out, breaking his uncle's mood. The older generations held earth as a tender subject, but by the time Laz had been born their home planet had been gone for more than twenty years. It was his history, but Brahma was his home.

In his childhood, they had mostly eaten synthetic meat. The real thing, however, was becoming available as agriculture grew across the safe zone. Most farms were still kept in glass domes, protecting crops and livestock from the dwindling differences between the safezone and old Earth. Some, however, we starting to venture out into the open air. Laz had flew over the safe zone many times in his old job as an escort pilot. Sprawling farmland was replacing the old swampy plain that filled so much of the Safe Zone Valley. The number of Mayura had dwindled as well. Attacks by the jet-sized native monsters had been an every-other-day occurrence when he had first taken the job just seven years ago. Now it was weekly at most.

"Lazo" a familiar grainy voice greeted him. Laz looked to the side to see his grandfather sitting himself down beside him.

Caesar Paladino, the patriarch of the family, was the only one left alive who had truly grown up on their home planet. He had been in his twenties when the Listeners had arrived, and he had participated in the failed battle to drive them off. It had left him scarred, with a burn scar that ran like a triangle from his nose across the breadth of his chin. Old age had hidden it in wrinkles, but the discolored skin and blinded white eye was still clearly visible.

"Yes, Nonno." Laz answered politely.

"You will be the first Paladino in space since we made landfall here." he said. "Don't worry about what people say. The IU is important. Without the Guardian Fleet, they could have came back at any time." He shuddered for a moment, his eyes wandering wistfully toward the sky above them. "Anymore, you young people don't understand what we lost back then. What we could have had. That feeling of... of thinking that everything in front of you, everything as far as man can see, will eventually be ours. We had the universe, and things were going to be better than they were before..."

Laz paused. His grandfather hadn't liked talking about the days before. Unsure what to say, Laz sat silent and slack-jawed.

"I want you to have this."

From his pocket, he produced a pistol. It was sleek and silver, ending in a long hard-rubber cup shaped like the top of a wine glass. The handle of the weapon had been worn down, polished down to the black-grey dullness beneath. Laz took it in his hands, fascinated.

"My UP-L4" the old man said, a twinkle of nostalgia in the back of his tired voice. "Ultrasonic Pistol - Lethal 4. This is what they issued back before those rail-driven short arms became popular with all the kids. No feeling, no respect. They just want to see gore when the shoot something."

"Ultrasonic?" Laz asked. "I didn't know you had this." he toyed with it in his hands, tossing it from palm to palm like a heavy metal ball. "We used ultrasonic arrays to scare off Mayura." he said, "But i've never actually seen a lethal before."

"Bring it with you." Caesar said. "It's something to remind you of your family. Even in space, we will be protecting you."

He felt a chill travel down his spine and his nerves went warm. He had never spent any more than a couple of weeks outside Nai Kolkata, away from his friends and family and everyone he had ever known.

Kangchai

The late morning sunlight slipped down the side of the crater. Basking over the exposed rock. Painting out the heavy orange and red hues in the vibrant heady rock face. It had taken no human measure to craft it. It took no human mining to cut the stone clear to the soupy, muddy clay base of the immense cauldron. As sheer as any perfect cliff-face could be. As smooth the pipe's that wound up the stone, hanging to the granite and limestone surface like steel vines.

In the falling warmth of the growing afternoon the steel took on the same soft orange glow as the rest of the crater did. It was as if morning light was dawning on the city, though in reality it had been awake for hours. It would be just that much of it would need be in the welcoming warmth of the sunlight for hours yet to come. It had yet to clear the landing strips, the farms, and the highland jungles that hugged around the sinkhole. It had yet to clear the angles needed to cast its breath to the deepest pits of the Lower Quarter, where the pumps chugged to feed and water the scattered city above. It had yet to kiss even the poor, who lingered above the Batmen.

But it had fallen into the highest mansions for sure.

Spilling across the floor the sun brought warm shades to the pink and swirled whites of the stone floor. The shining clarity bringing to the surface the fossilized alien life of an ancient Brahma. Strange ferns, ancient crustacean-like insects. Life the sink hole had not seen for generations, or centuries. Thousands even, if geology was to suggest anything.

But the trapped fossils had lust the luster of new, even upon the scientific community. They had worked it over, gazed over the alien biology like bewildered children before becoming bored and leaving. And the master of the house, he already knew every bone, every shell, and every leaf to heart. His floor was nothing new to him. It was polished, it was cleaned, and it shone where he had not covered it. It was all he could ask for from it these days. Because for him, he was a banker. Not a scientist. There was no value in fossils. Not unless it burned. But humanity had grown too far passed that for oil to be of value.

The long isolation of their species from the hydrocarbon had only ensured independence from it. They pursued, perfected, and grew their own plastics. From soy and on. Centuries ago they perfected independence and built themselves onwards. The departure from primitive hydrocarbons was ancient history. But there was one history that remained unchanged, refusing to leave: radioactivity. That was the light in the past that heralded the future. It was still that today. It may have changed, but there was still demand.

From the floor the rock climbed up the wall. The mansion was in itself all one piece, for the most part. Carved from the stone in the cliff side and set high as to over-look the entire city below. Its open-air, iron-grated windows breathed with the fresh air that swept down into the pit and drove over the rock face and into the caves like a refreshing bath. The sounds of inter-city travel washing in with the air. The light distant hum of engines almost a mile away reminded the home-owner that the city was alive. It breathed.

Throngs of civilian and industrial coaches zipped through the wide opening of the Kangchai crater like busy bees. Between them the military and security craft wove eloquently through like guardian drones, or peering hornets leaving the hive for greater missions above. There was little human interference here, it was doubtful many did not know how to drive. Centuries of AI advancement and computer design had created the parameters perfect for this sort of business. And most of it was routine, carved by a computer in straight lines that never intersected, only over lapped.

The invisible lower quarters was another story. Where the Pups flew, and hang gliders were the norm.

The master of the house, Mobuntui Hou had made it habit to count the city. If not in the morning, certainly when he found the time.

A man that might be described in earlier times as a senior was no frail man. He stood imposing, with a thick lion's mane of a beard and an abrasive curling head of hair as gray as aluminum. He exercised regularly, which added to his threatening physique. Heavy muscles bulged under dark, black, leathery skin.

As he stretched to his sides he looked out through his the panoramic window to the city. One hundred forty-five type IV cruiser drones... One hundred forty-six. He twisted himself to the side at each regularly passing drone. No matter how near or how distant. An inactive mind was just as deadly as an inactive body. And he needed the capabilities. Those faculties were important.

At any point of the city, one man could theoretically look out and see the whole of the city laid out before him on the canvas of rock. The sinkhole was circular, almost perfectly so; as nature would allow. Built along the edges and in the caves, the cracks, and crevices that wrapped around the edge was Kangchai itself. Gently slopped, sweeping architecture. Carved all into the rock. Softly swept out and rising buttresses and awnings made the scene all along the towering cliff-side in thousands, millions of dotted homes, clustered in collective neighborhoods; many almost self-sufficient in a sense.

The city would have been an experiment in urban design in some ancient time. If only man had discovered such places on their legendary, lost, home world. But Hou could not claim to remember. He knew Earth. Something in him recalled fragrant memories of succulent and fresh fit-fit in the mountains of Central China.

But being an exile and a refugee in the fringes of humanity's own control had begun to supplant itself, and it did not frighten him. Earth was gone now, smoke and fire and debris. There was no use in the past. Now was the now, the important present. Now would always be now, and the future. Prepare for the future, by building the now. Crying over the past does not build the now.

Behind him a holographic projection hung out from the wall. Filling out into the 3-d space a number of swirling graphs, charts, and other mundane drivel that would fill the rest of his day and help keep out the lurking monster of dementia. But Hou knew the information too well, Ever sense the arrival of Earth's refugees the growth of the colonial economy had been climbing. Men and women fresh from Earth trying to regain the life they had and cities swelling to populations into the millions. And as humanity's population expanded from then, so did the borders of the safe zone. Whether national or private, there was an interest to war with the natural hostilities beyond the designated safe-zone.

For years the Director's Board has pointed to the data with mixed feelings. The rapid climb upwards over the past sixty years was indeed booming. But they feared the sustainability. How hard the crash would effect them was something even the simulations could not give concrete predictions for. The sense of fear for the unknown economic future was a lingering specter in the back of their minds. It was as if they were trying to peer into the computer-less future. But the future glared back. To them they sat too uncomfortably at the edge of a rapid crash. And for the executive officers, it was a duty paid to everyone to maintain a status quo. The growth and inflation was good, but it needed to be controlled. Thundering deflation was worse.

The demand was there. The trivial demands of the civilian population was still there. The militarized pursuits of the IU - as much of a removed institute as they've become - and the safety of the Safe Zone was paramount and produced the biggest gains. And along those gains a large turn over. Being eaten was likely, man and all, and it perhaps presented the most stable point in Brahma's economy. Men will always be dying there and there will always need to be men to fill the ranks, and new gear to print for them.

There was a light electrical buzz. With a slow stop Mobuntui Hou ceased his exercise. “Come in.” he said, his voice booming. It was distinctly Africa, unlike his face; a father's gift to a son.

With a soft sigh the door opened, gliding into the wall as it let in a tall slender figure, dressed neatly in a lean black suit, black tie, white shirt. The man, young, tall, and lean was considerably generic in his appearance. He had nothing about him in his Asiatic features to differentiate him from any other man.

He looked over to Hou and bowed cordially, stepping aside to let in a second man. Stouter, wider. Skin a light coffee tinge. “Good afternoon.” the new man said, bowing. He was subtly Asian in appearance. Yet his tone and growing, thin fro suggested something of African heritage, much lighter than Hou's own.

“Hua Lefen.” Hou greeted, nodding. He said it toneless and casually. “How is your afternoon?”

“My afternoon is fine.” Lefen said, walking across the room. It was a wide open space, more a hall than anything. From floor to ceiling it was perhaps two stories high, all carved of the same marble and limestone as the cliff. Banners and portraits adorned the warm-toned ceiling and walls, as Earthly plants sat complacent at regular spaces. Large thick African ferns and bright flowers rescued from China. Even the Earth's plants would live with humanity on a foreign world.

“The Director Board is looking forward to a meeting though.” Lefen said, “I don't expect they'll want to talk about much. Not anything you don't get fed regularly in any case.” the man added, nodding to the data feed by the wall.

“Of course not.” Hou grumbled, “What else is there in any case? How much more we should act out on securing our mining rights? They know as well as I do that actually trying to get on our property is difficult.”

“I know as well as the rest of them know.” Lefen laughed, “But I got a message from the Cao Mi that might provide an effective reason to do it. I suppose it'll be worth getting the full briefing to bring the board together.”

“I don't think I read it.” Hou said, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“He suggests we act on what claims we can, if only to use something up. He believes it might be enough for short-term local promotion.”

“Short-term isn't the best term. It'll just fall again in short order as soon as we're done or tired.” Mubuntui grumbled, “Is that it?”

“Probably. I don't know.” Lefen shrugged, walking to the window.

In the distance on the far side of the crater stood The Pagoda. A stacked nine-layer tower, built of stone and glass and polished steel that glowed even in the absence of sunlight. Or so it seemed. The administrative heart of Kangchai, towering up over the rock-face from the mid-level to nearly level with Mobuntui Hou's home.

“Very well, we'll humor the fool.” he said.

House of State: Ephyra
There was nothing like starting a morning with a good cup of coffee. Sadly, it was still the horrid subsidy being grown by the farmers while the coffee beans were carefully being cultivated to increase their numbers. After 50 years, it was still proving difficult to grow the damnable plant so many loved to drink, making coffee one of the most expensive drinks to buy in any establishment. Still, it was better than nothing.

Oakland sat in his leather bound office chair, staring past the rising steam from his mug at the half dozen papers he was to review this morning. It was only 7:03AM but he was wide awake and ready to begin his day in earnest. Besides, he had an appointment with the Governor General, and that old Grinch was as tough as they came, not to mention rather frigid in mind.
After taking a sharp sip of the hot liquid, Oakland placed his mug back down gently on the saucer and opened the first file on his desk. Order requests for the authorization of military reconnaissance to be used by geologists venturing past the safe zones. It was roughly 15 pages of jargon informing him about how important it was to check the minerals north of Coalition borders were indeed coal and oil. The urgency for such resources had not escaped the chairman, he knew more than anyone how bad a shape the state was in with the energy crisis. It rather reminded him of the issues Earth had before inter-stellar travel became available to them. Still, such a thing was now out of the question, at least for the time being. After sifting through the papers and making the appropriate signature marks on the hypothetical ‘dotted lines’, he picked up his so-called coffee once again and took another long sip. The next file was on Ergonomics, and the projected outcome of the next harvest. Oakland just rubbed his eyes, knowing full well how much that department liked to stress ‘vital importance over all other sectors’. No matter how many times he told them they needed fuel for the farming equipment, they always wanted to be put first. He just gave a long sigh and opened the file, ready for the long winded ranting he received every year.

Oakland’s focus was broken an hour later by the buzz of his intercom. He looked up, brown eyes darting to the red light on his phone. He reached over and pressed the answer button, composing himself as he always did before speaking. “Yes Mary?” he asked, a refined tone in his voice.
“Governor General Adams here to see you sir.” A soft, always musical voice replied through loudspeaker on his desk phone.
“Thank you Mary, send him right in.”

The thick wooden doors opened to reveal a man no doubt built for the hardships of war. General Adams, a balding and stone faced man in his 70’s. Robert looked at him with a forced smile. General Philip Adams was not the sort of man you invited to parties, nor would he want to go if Oakland read his face as he could other members of his state offices. He gave a curt nod to him before gesturing to the chair beside his desk. “General.” He said flatly.
“Chairman.” Adams replied, marching to the desk ad sitting down in a single, drilled fashion. He cleared his gravel toned voice with a sharp cough and leaned back into the chair. His charcoal grey uniform was stitched with numerous ranking symbols Robert could not entirely recognize. He saw a few he knew from his fathers’ own uniform, but nothing that stood out. The only marking that did was the platinum star cluster on his neck collar, a symbol of his station as Governor General.

“You wanted to speak with me on the state of our flotilla, correct?” Robert was glimpsing over a file in front of him, stating the order of troops currently serving, the condition and quantity of arms and armaments and, of course, threat assessments for each city. None of it seemed out of the ordinary, but something about Adams told him the man wanted something.
The general cleared his throat again, suddenly sitting as straight as a ruler before speaking in his gravel tone. Even then it held a refinement that suited that of old British officers. “Chairman, we’re running too low on fuel to launch more than a dozen of our destroyers. And I can’t even guarantee they’ll break orbit.” Adams lowered his head and stared right at Robert, blue eyes like radar for any twitch the chairman might make. “In short, until we get fuel, you don’t have a fleet, just a big pile of scrap.”
Robert pressed his fingers to his lips as though in an act of prayer. So many resources had been pumped into other departments now in hopes of securing vital resources that the old flotilla had been near enough forgotten. There was little need for a fleet when inter-Stella travel was prohibited. “I am certain once we finalize our tests on the possible sites north of Phoenix, we’ll be able to-”

“With all respects, Chairman, you need ships and transports for that kind of expedition and, frankly, we’re near out of juice. I can’t authorize a launch of any kind without absolute certainty my men will get refueled first.” Adams reasoning was not unjust in his demand for the fleet to be supplied first. This world was still young, and everything had been focused on defending the future of the Coalition from its founding days.

Robert leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on the general as he took a deep breath. “You understand what kind of position your putting me in Philip. The other chancellors will have a field day and I’m the game for that hunt…”
Adams gave a gruff nod as he sat, lips pursed while he awaited the chairman’s response.
“I cannot promise anything Philip…” Robert finally said lifting his mug and sipping away the last of his coffee like substance. “…but I will see what I can do”

The HQ


A Huge Sliver Space Station, like a Rectangular Prism, laid in space. It was powered on all angles with ships and people all buzzing about, the most clear thing was on the side panel, top right hand corner on the both sides, the logo for Tri-Star Mining was there, painted in a Aqua Color. Shown to the world in all its glory.

Over on the east side, two ships came by, before they send a message to the Space Station via a chatroom:

F43X1 : Requesting Permission to dock with TXA
HQ: Permitted, Bay 5

The Two Ships proceeded to the bays, there engines gleaming in a blue color with the logo of Tri-Star also on them, they seem like they belonged to the company.

The Space Station slowly opened up one of it’s bays, the freighter labelled “Freighter 43X1” slowly landed, along with another ship, a transport ship labelled “ Transport XA”. The ship slowly hit the landing bay, in a soft manner.

The Sound of the bay retracting was heard loudly, to the interior of the ship. Both of the ships parked nearby into the interior of the bay. In white letters on top of the bay, was the number 5. Ten Troopers came to the bay, has both of the pilots opened their door to show there documentation
Inside the Transport ship, has the pilots showed there papers were a group of friends. Rodney, a 55 year old miner with his pals: Jimmy, 55 , Tom 52 and Grant 56 were sitting on the small transport ship.

“ Fucking hell, you wonder how much protection they got here now-a-days” said Grant
“Why the fuck is there all this protection, it's not like we gonna get mauled by a bear or some shit?” replied Grant, smirking.

The Doors opened of the transport ship, an armed guard with an Assault Rifle first entered, while another one with a shotgun later entered.
“Everything looks good, alright ya lad’s home free” said one of the guards

The four men got up with their bags filled with clothing and other stuff, and walked to the interior of the space ship.

Rodney, Jimmy , Grant and Tom were coming back from an asteroid mining contract, pretty tiring work you could say. The looks on their faces were one of tiredness, and pretty much they looked like they were done. Some dirt and ash were still on their faces.

The Four Men were in the left side of the space ship, all around them there was action. It was really a small time shopping mall, with a few store units, locker rooms , pay chip retrieval places and here and their. While the right side were for the ships, ship salesmen’s, mining tools and more hardware. They walked towards the pay chip place, a small line was here on Tuesdays, well they wasn’t really any lines due to direct deposit. But the people who often got chips were old timers or never had accounts

The men, after getting there chips looked at each other.

“ I probably will catch a room here for awhile, until a contract comes up” said Tom, nodding to the three men
“Heh’ don’t waste ya’ money fucking that girl from what.. Accounting or some shit?” replied Jimmy shaking his head.
“Shut up’ will ya!” exclaimed Tom has he walked off, towards an elevator
“I gotta’ buy the wife something, and then I’ll be going down to Nai Koklata for a few weeks, with this big a pay chip” smirked Grant, has he waved the men good bye, heading to the northern part of the station to grab a shuttle.
“ Gonna lay low Rod’ gotta do some shit for the kids once and awhile ya know, dun’ want me wife to leave me like how Tom’s left him!” exclaimed Jimmy, having a light laugh
Rodney, laughed soon after, before he waved off Jimmy.

Rodney walked towards the Southern Point of the station, looking towards the huge levitating job board. There, he awaited a job. Just staring at the board attentively

The HQ, Level 3
Joseph sipped on the Mocha, in a meeting with a few investors and shareholders in attendance.

“ Tri-Star has an R and D branch, which I would like to put in more funding to” stated Joseph, has he projected in the middle of the table the R and D branches lab on the outside.
“How much is required for the next stages?” asked one of the shareholders.
“ 20,000 Credits , we’ll be adding two extra rooms..” said Joseph, tapping on the project in the middle of the table, adding two cubes to the sides of the current Lab to resemble the Rooms.
“ We’ll have a rock-testing center, to learn more about the various rocks and ores in the solar system, and we’ll have a mini-refinery, to allow experimentation to be done to see how to refine these elements and rocks” purposed Joseph.
“What’s next?” another shareholder said, feeling his beard
“ Don’t know yet, but all I know is .. we’ll have something “ stated Joseph, has he sat on the chair, nodding to the shareholders.

Nai Kolkata Sail Care Hq Tuesday, July 23rd 2321

The large Taj Mahal fused with Cyberpunk building lies in the middle of Nai Kolkata. The four pillars spitting the steam into the air. The Dome on the top of the main building has the Sailcare logo painted on top.

On the west side of the Hq two trucks came by holding spaceship parts made in Ephyra. The trucks called up Jackieth's assistant Michael and they asked for permission to enter. Micheal said yes and put the phone up.

The two trucks drove up to the drop off area and the men got out.
"Do you think this is fair Jacob" asked Morgan?
"What do you mean Morgan" Jacob asked, confused?
"What we are being paid" Morgan said pulling out a piece of the spaceship.
"I think so, why do you ask" Morgan asked?
"Just because, I wanted to know your opinion" Jacob said.

5 Hours Later, Sailcare Hq, main room
"Yes, stocks are rising, I will be in the top 10 richest men alive list in no time" Jackieth said smiling.
"Sir, it isn't all about the money, don't end up like your father" Micheal remarked.
"I know, but a little money never hurt anyone" Jackieth said spinning around in his spinable office chair.
"That is what your father said sir" Micheal admitted.
"Whatever, leave me be, I just got a call" Jackieth growled shooing away Micheal.
"Yes sir" Micheal said, with a bow.

Meanwhile on a truck to Ephyra

"Jacob, I know, but still, I really think we should ask for a raise" Morgan said into the phone.
"Why Morgan, we get a large amount over minimum wage" Jacob asked, frustrated?
"Because of what we do everyday, driving from Ephyra to the Hq building, it takes a while" Morgan said.
"Yeah, but we got to do it, or we would live on the streets" Jacob said, hanging up.

Spaceship making center, Secret Location
"Dangit Jim, you put the nose on the back of the ship" exclaimed Clark!
"Clark shut up, you are distracting me" yelled Jim!
"Both of you shut up" screamed there boss Hannah!
"Yes Ma'am" said both Jim and Clark together.
Micheal ran into the room and looked at Hannah.
"Hannah, we have a deal to propose, get me a spaceship pronto" Micheal said.
"Yes sir" Hannah said rushing to the control panel.

Two miles east of the Safe Zone,
Unnamed jungle,
Brahma

The shuttle moved sleekly above the jungle, low enough to disturb the canopies of the tall trees yet high enough to avoid the reach of the megafauna within. The shuttle was unimpressive, a cheap SailCare bought for hauling employee's in and out of the safezone. As such, it's colour was a dull silver, it's turbines made a large noise when landing and the seats within were peeling leather. The window near the cockpit was rolled down and classical rock music blasted from inside it. The pilot's sunburnt arm hung lazily outside occasionally brushing off a taller piece of foliage. It was a journey the pilot made several times a day and as such, he had become quite lax on the strict safety regulations imposed on him. The pilot glanced down at the layer of jungle below him and caught a glimpse of a small, furry face glancing up at the shuttle from the canopy. He nodded his head in greeting and to his surprise, the head nodded back. The pilot chuckled. He had lived on Brahma his whole life yet the natives never failed to amuse him. The sun was just dipping under the horizon and that meant hunting for the Batmen was just beginning.

As he approached his destination, the signs of deforestation became more apparent. He could see piles of tree trunks, neatly stacked and de-branched. Tree stumps littered the ground and the rich undergrowth For some unknown reason, Joseph McKay had ordered that the logging of the alien jungle begin a mile into the thicket. It presumed by many rational people that the wood that was required was just deeper into the jungle and the jungle before that was just foliage. But conspiracy theories ranging from aliens to secret nuclear weaponry were already circulating. The ship circled a few times and then settled closer to the ground. Small legs slowly extended from the undercarriage and rested the ground. A door opened from the back and a group of workers slowly began milling around, awaiting further orders. The men were all shirtless and slick with sweat. They wore trousers and large boots that were smeared with dirt and tree resin. From one hand, they clutched electric blue chainsaws with the Timbeross logo stamped on the side. All held the same haggard, tired look on their faces. Behind them, a small group of Batmen were huddled in a small group. Chains rattled from their limbs and a few were propped up by their companions, exhausted. They wore no clothing and their dignity was out for all to see. Their fur was patchy and their ears were tagged, a cruel reminder of their purpose on the job. Slave labour was one of Timbeross's biggest and worst kept secrets. Despite aggresivly denying the claims of slavery publicly many times, slavery was simply cheaper than hiring employees. The Batmen were kidnapped from the slums or the jungles and told to work or die. Not everyone in the company was comfortable with this but it was simply how things worked.

The final and smallest group were the mercenaries. They were all dressed in full military gear and clutched advanced weaponry. Their presence deterred raids from tribes of Batmen but rarely stopped attacks from the megafauna. They formed a semi-circle around the other groups and watched the treeline, their fingers on the triggers. The foreman stepped forward and began a role call. 'Leary?' he shouted. 'Here' replied a tired looking Irishman. 'Fredrikson?' he called, ticking Leary's name from his clipboard. 'Here' responded a tall Scandanavian. This continued on for five minutes as each and every man on site was accounted for. The batmen slaves were looked over, of course. Their lives were not important. When the foreman was content, he whistled and hustled the workmen into the back of the shuttle. He gave a nod to the pilot who gave a small salute in reply. Leary hung back with Fredrikson and both men were the last workmen on the shuttle. The two had gotten to know each other over work and now met regularly after work to drink and womanise. The inside of the shuttle was simple. A long row of seats lined each wall and the cockpit could be seen near the front. The seats were leather and were peeled after years of misuse and bored workmen. The air conditioning was on full blast above every seat and most men relished the ride home because of it. The two lads took a seat opposite of each other and clipped their seatbelts. The electric chainsaws were thrown carelessly in overhead lockers.

'Thank fuck' murmured Leary, his eyes closed in bliss. He could feel the heat of the outside ebb away as the cold air rushed onto his chest. He hadn't sat down since the ride to work earlier that morning. 'Hear that, brother' answered Fredrikson, stretching his long legs across the aisle and putting his hands behind his head. 'Few more months of this and I can go to college'. Many young men joined Timbeross for one year contracts in order to afford higher education and Fredrikson had jumped on the opportunity of high pay, even if it meant risking his life everyday in the jungle. Leary was older and had dedicated his life to working in Timbeross. He was often ostracised by the other men for his strong accent and the strong smell of alcohol that seemed to escape from ever pore. The next group on the shuttle were the Batmen, who were allowed to sit near the workmen. A familiar grey Batmen shuffled down next to Fredrikson, it's chains rattling in the process. 'Good evening, gents' it said in a small voice. Both men nodded at the Batman in greeting. The old grey alien, with his patchy fur and skinny frame, looked like he should of been retired. Over the past few months, the men had gotten to know the slave quite well and to their surprise, he was quite intelligent and spoke English better than either of them. He was apparently a teacher who taught young Batmen to speak English and get on in an overly-human society before being enslaved some years earlier. A red Batwoman took her seat next to Leary and her head lolled, immediately asleep. Pliops gave a sigh. 'That poor girl. I saw them beating her earlier, you know. Animals' he said the last word with a hint of spite and glare down the aisle at the mercenaries. Fredrikson's eyes met Learys and they both knew it was better to not get involved.

The last of the mercenaries made their seats at the end of the row, near the door. A few forced the enslaved Batmen to stand so they could be seated and their captain gave a blind eye at the abuse hurled at the slaves. The door shut slowly with an audible hiss and an announcement came over the comms. 'All right, lads. We're heading home' crackled the pilots voice. A collective cheer came from the workmen, all salivating at the thought of a strong brew or their wives waiting within the safe zone. The foreman stood at the front, clutching a handrail and joking with the workmen. A small, plastic window was embedded in the wall behind Leary's head and he craned his neck to see the area he had just been working in. The area they were cutting was getting bigger by the day yet it seemed that no one had picked up the neatly cut logs of alien wood yet. It all just lay in piles, some still there from months before. 'It's a fucking wonder when they'll pick them logs up' he said to no one in particular. 'I myself have wondered that. Perhaps
Timbeross is awaiting larger shuttles to take them to the mills? From what I understand, what we're doing here is just a small part of the logging campaign. Most of the wood is from Earth, grown inside the safezone. Perhaps we're just small part of it and lower priority?' Pliops pipped up, his large ears twitching. 'Aye. Maybe' answered Leary, not really sure. But then again, it wasn't his job to take the logs back to the safezone. It was just his job to chop the alien trees and de-branch them.

The red Batwoman's head lolled onto his shoulder and he thought about pushing her off. She's had enough pushing today. Fredrikson was already asleep and Leary thought about dropping off too. But he couldn't. When he slept, all he heard was cries of anger and chainsaws.

The Timbeross Building,
Dunnowhichcityyet City

Joseph McKay stared at himself in the mirror. 'Jesus Christ' he gasped, running his hands through his hair. 'I'm so fucking good looking!' His secretary grunted in agreement as she thumbed through a glossy magazine. Arrogant, pumped with botox and an ego that could rival the entire Encyclopedia Britannica set, she actually thought he was one of the worst humans in existence. However, he paid well for pretty and smart secretaries, so she didn't mind his constant sexual advances on her and constant gasps when looking at himself in the mirror. Perhaps once Mr. McKay had been a good looking and kind man but three years of brutal 'work' and flukey business successes had seen him turn from the timid, young CEO's son to the dickhead he was today. 'Speaking of good lookin', what's cookin?' he gave a cheesy smile as he spun around to his secretary. He walked up to her desk flamboyantly and planted both hands onto the desk. The secretary glanced up at him and then at her computer. 'Shareholders want to see you at eight, tomorrow Chief Toonak is coming at noon' she answered in her usual monotone voice.

The CEO of Timbeross Corporation went quiet a moment, a mock pout on his face. The meetings did not 'Where does it say on that schedule when our date is?' he grinned cheekily at his secretary. The secretary gave a fake chuckle but didn't look up from her magazine. Joseph looked disappointed for a moment but then turned around. 'I'll be in my office. Make sure no one disturbs me, please' he said loudly. The secretary didn't bother asking why. She already knew. The CEO's office was soundproof and fitted with a large TV on one wall. A sexually frustrated Joseph had a large collection of lesbian pornography hidden in his desk and would often watch it when things were quiet. In her own desk, she kept a taser for fear that one day he would ask her to join him. The door closed and locked behind the CEO.

Several moments passed and the secretary grew bored of her magazine, so she dropped it onto her desk. She gazed around the room and smiled slightly. Despite the fact her boss was a pig, she rather enjoyed her job. She was on the 28th floor of the Timbeross Building. To the right of her desk, she had a view of the city skyline, which was slowing down now as evening approached. The window ran from her right all along, completely replacing the wall to a large view. To the left of her desk, a short walk would see you facing a large mirror that largely replaced the wall. The beautiful view was reflected onto the mirror. Behind her, a large wall separated her from the CEO's office. It was all so pristine and clean!

A phone rang to her right and she instinctively grabbed it without checking caller ID. 'Hello, secretary Clara here of the CEO, how can I help you?' she asked, repeating the phrase etched into her mind. Her voice echoed down the hall. 'Er, 'allo, Clara. Can you pass a message on to the, er, CEO for me?' answered a rough sounding voice on the other end. 'Yes, I can. Who is this?' she grabbed a pen and a pad of paper to begin writing on while the phone balanced on her shoulder. 'John Clement. I'm working out in the jungle. We have a bit of a problem'. Clara the secretary's eyes opened in surprise as John described his 'problem' over the phone. She wrote it down anyway while silently noting to pass it on to Joseph when he was in a better mood. 'Thank you, John. I'll make sure he gets it'. Her hands shook slightly as she put the phone back in it's cradle. She looked down at the note, at her perfect handwriting. Clara bit her lip.

She would let Joseph finish off in his office before giving him this information. His reaction might be different if he was in a better mood.

Space, ~20 AU From Brahma

"So you never have?" Laz teased. He tried to sound playful, but he was really surprised. She was older than him, after all.

"It isn't THAT hard to believe." she blushed. She was young, with dull red hair and skin made ivory pale from years aboard a dimly lit space station. She was cute. The fact that she was long in the face somehow made her cuter. It made it all the more surprising.

"You've HAD To have thought about it, though." he prodded playfully. "Some cute astrophysicist. Maybe a young guy bartending at the Catina."

"There were a few..." she said, looking at him tentatively as if she was weighing whether or not she could trust him. "Okay, so as few years ago I assisted a senior astrophysicist in studying the fluctuation or radiation levels on the Shiva's pole during some sort of proto-solar storm. He was so different than the other men I had worked with. So... I don't know, passionate about his work. He would look out at her, Shiva that is, and say things. He would quote the bible, or he would quote old Hindi poetry." She paused for a second and looked Laz in the eyes, and he felt his heart flutter at the lively girlishness in hers. Seeing his smirk, she giggled. "It's corny, I know... but I hadn't seen that in a man, really. Not about our work. Not about what we did."

"So... what did you do?"

"I flirted... I think. I didn't really grow up like that, when I was a teen I spent most of my free time studying. But I tried to get his attention. I complimented him a lot, brought him his lunch so he didn't have to get it..."

"Assistant stuff." Laz said.

"I wore a tighter jumpsuit." she retorted, "Not the grey uniform one. It was shiny, sort of silver."

"And he didn't notice."

"No." she answered, remembering her past frustration. "He kept talking about Shiva."

Laz laughed. "I'm sorry you lost out to a brown dwarf, Dr. Florin."

"I'm Eury" she corrected, brushing back her hair.

"Eury" Laz smiled warmly.

Eury's story was not as surprising when he considered the way the people on Shiva Station carried themselves. It was a place where, even when people were off duty, they were expected to be working in some way. To do anything else, like having a life, was the surest way to stall your career. Working on Shiva Station was one of the highest honors solar scientists could attain. The station monitored the brown dwarf Shiva and it's twin Kali, who orbited each other as they orbited their main star. From way out there, in the farthest depths of human space after the listeners had silenced the other worlds, Kali was the brightest object in the star-filled blackness of space surrounding Shiva. Even Indus, the sun at the center of the system, was dimmer than the Shiva's twin. They were distant and alone, so isolated that it was difficult to fathom. Two hundred and fifteen billion miles from Brahma. To pick it as a home, to sacrifice so much of one's life in the name of science, was hard for a boy who had spent most of his life in the Safe Zone to understand.

Though Laz couldn't wrap his head around the obsession scientists had with it, he couldn't argue that Shiva was something special. She was the red-purple color of a fresh bruise, much darker than Brahmapura, and even with nothing but an orbital station to compare her too Laz could somehow tell that she was much bigger than the giant that dominated Brahma's sky. She looked like a gas planet despite the fact she was technically a star. Cloudy strips of gas banded around her, twisting and shifting across her surface at a rate so slow that you could only see it in sped up footage. The detail that hinted to her solar status was the glow she gave out. It wasn't the same familiar omnipresent glow that all heavenly bodies exuded. This was deeper, like a fire raging deep beneath her clouds, and the darkness of the distant corner of space made it all the more noticeable. She looked like a massive paper lamp, like those found in the silent zen garden on the edge of Nai Kolkata. The scientists on Shiva Station called their star a 'she', and the pronoun hadn't been lifted from the masculine Hindu God it shared a name with. There was a living quality to her. A breathing, fiery calm. Though they had only stayed for a week, it had felt somber leaving her behind. Laz wondered what it had felt like for the scientists that had chose to come back with them on the return journey. Many would go back to their beloved star soon enough. Some, however, had seen her for the last time.

Several of their passengers, including Doctor Eury Florin, had chosen to stay on the bridge. For them, the bridge might as well have been a viewing deck. Shaped like an elongated semicircle, It was big enough to fit several dozen people, and all but the back wall was acrylic glass so that a panorama of space appeared before them. The ceilings and floors, as well as the back wall, were eggshell-white panels that glowed and filled the room with a soft light. Crew members paced the room, many holding sleek computerized tablets, while others worked from kiosks or talked amongst themselves. The room was filled with people, but it was quiet. In the same way the surfaces of the room controlled the lighting, they also soaked up sound. It gave the room a library-like atmosphere, even when it was hectic. Laz could see why it would be practical. There were fewer distractions up here, making it easier to focus, and this was a place where focus was vital.

Laz's place was simple. He was a guard, though oftentimes he felt like a babysitter. His job was, more often than not, to intervene in simple disagreements. Canteen guards had it the worst, where they were faced with drunkeness on top of the regular problems. Guarding the bridge, however, was one of the easier tasks. It was nearly ceremonial, and Laz found himself socializing or reading most of the time. At first, he had enjoyed conversing with the ship's Captain, Kgosi. A self-described intellectual, he talked like a professor and carried himself like a soldier. Laz had learned how Kgosi fled to Nai Kolkata with his mother after his father and brother were murdered, pushed into the KangChai sinkhole by rivals jealous of his father's position in the company. He also learned how Kgosi had started out as a cook before working his way up the chain of command and getting his own vessel. This was his, the IUSS Aro, a refitted Solar Barque that had been upgraded to endure long distance trips. Like most Barques, its missions usually were usually supply and delivery. Kgosi reckoned he had been to every station in the Indus system.

It had only taken one indiscretion with the Captain's daughter to cool their relationship, but Laz had found ways to pass the time none the same. Eury was one of his latest.

"What are your plans?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your plans, when we reach Brahma. You left Shiva Station for something." he explained.

"Honestly, it's just been so long..." she leaned against a fold-out surface, the blue strip of light along its lip, giving her fingers a ghastly glow. Space, infinite and endlessly dark between millions of far away stars, was her backdrop. "My grandparents... they raised us after our parents died, my sister and me, they are getting older now. My grandfather just turned one hundred and five a few months ago. I want to see them, before they go."

Laz whistled. "The things he must've seen."

Eury stared out, her eyes focusing on something beyond the stars. She smiled warmly. "He used to tell me stories of Earth. He told me about how he hiked the Great Wall before they closed it to the public. I'm not even sure..." she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "The way he explained it, when he talked about how fresh the air was that far out of urban China, and how weeds were overtaking the stone. I felt like I was somehow... like I was somehow there, though I have never been within a light year of Earth, let alone on it. He told me Earth was in our blood, that our primeval souls were born and made on our home planet and that no human would forget it."

"I like that." Laz replied.

Eury smiled. "So do I."

Khurama Jila, Nai Kolkatta

The churning throng parted reluctantly around Sofija and Erko as the two companions set out into the morning surge of Khurama Jila. With her arm held up against her chest like a battering ram, she plowed a path through the bustling crowd allowing the meeker Erko to hobble along behind her; courtesy to strangers was a luxury that could not be afforded in the heart of a city of over 50 million inhabitants. Sofija was by no means the only one shoving her way through the crowd; it was to be expected with so many people moving in different directions all converging upon this dense, mazelike plaza. Standing a full head over the average commuter here, Sofija could see the fate that befell those who were not assertive. Out-of-towners, or those who insisted on being civil and 'excuse me'-ing through Khurama Jila were swept up helplessly in the current of moving people. Sofija and her companion had no time for any of that, for this was to be their first day at the new job.

Commuters like Sofija and Erko made up a large minority of the thousands and thousands of people in Khurama Jila this morning. The open cobblestone plaza was shaded by a number of gangly, planter-bound persimmon trees for which the neighborhood had been named in Hindi. Originally designed as an island of peaceful parkland in a sea of dense tenement buildings, the plaza had eventually evolved into a teeming open-air market not unlike those that had once existed in China, Southeastern Asia, or Africa. Vendors and shoppers seeking out wares and groceries created a formidable obstacle course for those simply seeking to pass through the plaza on their way from Point A to Point B. With buskers, street performers, drunks, panhandlers, bicycle carts, and a number of stubborn motorists all thrown into the chaotic mix, it was little wonder so many commuters insisted that Khurama Jila was Hindi for "clusterfuck".

The first and perhaps the most perilous obstacle that Sofija and her Tkrai companion faced was the ring of roadway that surrounded the vendor-overrun plaza. Indeed, the ground beneath the dense covering of people was composed of potholed asphalt, suggesting that the ground they stood on had at one point been designed to accommodate motor vehicles. The Khurama Jila market, however, had long since annexed the surrounding streets and alleyways. Even so, cars, trucks, and a swarm of rickshaw bicycles made a slow, intermittent procession around stalls that had opened onto the street. In between the bumpers, a steady stream of marketgoers and commuters filtered past the vehicles in spite of incessant honking and shouting on the part of the drivers.

As they crossed the street, Sofija looked back to her her companion as she did occasionally to ensure that they had not been separated. Even at a leisurely pace, it was often easy to outpace Batmen. Tkrai like Erko had evolved to climb up the sheer rock faces and trees of their jungle homes; but were ill suited to cross large distances on the level ground humans preferred. Erko had taken to a kind of knuckle-walking on all fours to keep up with Sofija, but in the crowd he had fallen behind just as a motorbike revved up to speed through an opening in the crowd. Sofija lurched back and seized Erko by the front limbs, pulling him out of harm's way as the motorbike braked to a thrumming halt.

"Watch where you're going!" Sofija hissed as an annoyed Pakistani man on the bike pointed accusatorily at Erko and shouted something angry and incomprehensible.

With the street behind them, Sofija led Erko on into the porous outskirts of the maze of stalls and shops of the marketplace. Underneath a ceiling of persimmon branches adorned with strings of Chinese paper lanterns was the most diverse array of stalls selling every conceivable product or service one could imagine. There were carts piled high with figs, oranges dates, and plantains; makeshift shacks in which mustachioed cooks scrambled eggs and bacon on greasy skillets; a peculiar mix of firecrackers, dietary supplements, and hand-me-down electronic gizmos were sold at a stall bearing signs in bold Thai lettering. A Honduran woman painted hibiscuses and beach sunsets on tiles next door to a small beer garden set up around a persimmon tree with bands of black, red, and yellow painted on the trunk. Across the way from a Polynesian man scooping out ice cream for a troop of Armenian boys was a dreadlock-maned African beating out a metallic tune from steel drums.

Many times, this place felt more like a carnival than any kind of market. At Khurama Jila every tribe and ethnicity of the human species had joined together to create something more than the myriad races that comprised it in a way that would have never been seen on Earth. After the destruction of the Earth, there could be no room for strife between humans. For in spite their differences and their histories, the human race had a common enemy in the wake of the Listeners' rampage.

But Sofija Sobral had little time to celebrate the survival of her species here. Elsewhere on this planet were great injustices being committed against the world that was humanity's last hope and the native life that called it home first. Even now, Entaria and Ephyra poisoned the planet's precious groundwater with their mining operations. Corporate entities such as Tri-Star and Timbeross crept farther out into the wilderness, raping the planet and inflicting great suffering upon Erko's fellow natives living beyond the Clear Districts. If Sofija and Erko's work with the Foundation did not bear fruit, she feared Brahma would be ravaged by humanity just as Earth and Orpheus had before.

Perhaps, Sofija so often thought, humans and Listeners weren't so different from one another.

Here in the heart of Nai Kolkatta, immersed within the familiar cultures, sounds, and smells of home, it was easy to forget that this was not Earth. Nai Kolkatta, with it's transplanted Earth flora and unique South-Asian architecture, could pass for an Indian city at a cursory glance. Despite the numerous similarities, there were occasional reminders throughout that humanity was far from home. The most obvious of all dominated the sky: Brahmaputra. The swirling ball of gas around which Brahma orbited shone with the reflected light of the system's star and stood as an otherworldly backdrop behind the skyline of Nai Kolkatta.

A more ominous reminder took the form giant gun emplacement at the north side of the plaza. Even though it had been decorated with Mardi Gras lights and bright murals painted on the concrete embankments around the turret, it was still sufficiently out of place in this park-turned-bazaar. Sofija recognized it as a Antifaunal Point Defense Emplacement, or more colloquially a Mayura Gun. At least 50 years old, the turret was a relic of the early years of humanity's settlement on Brahma, when Nai Kolkatta was menaced by the colossal flying carnivores. An eyelike sensor at the top of the turret scanned the sky for motion, seeking out motion profiles that would match that of a Mayura. Upon being triggered, the gun would target itself at the beast and fire a salvo of exploding rounds until the Mayura had withdrawn or was shot out of the sky, all while sounding sirens to warn citizens to seek shelter. Though Mayura had not appeared above the confines of Nai Kolkatta in decades, the guns had been active until only a few years ago when a Pratchapadrian aircraft had been shot at. No one had been hurt in the incident, but the city's government decided that the guns had served their use and shut them down indefinitely. Though they no longer served a purpose, the guns continued to remind citizens Nai Kolkatta was only a bastion of civility on an otherwise untamed world.

Sofija looked behind her once again and found that she had been separated from Erko. Immediately, she turned back into the coursing flow of shop browsers to find her companion. Half a block back, she found Erko standing before a open stall. Hanging limply from racks behind the booth were half a dozen flayed and gutted alien corpses of various species and sizes. Underneath these racks, a heavy-set African busied himself by hacking the limbs off of an alien akin to a three-legged reptilian antelope. When his eyes met with Erko's, he set the butchered animal down upon a plastic picnic table stained with various shades of alien blood and approached the Tkrai.

"Ah, my bruddah!" The butcher greeted with a brilliant white smile. "I know de Batmen know good meat when dey see it." He gestured with the bloodied machete to a gutted salamander-like creature with four pairs of finlike legs.

"Watah lizahd! Tasty!" The butcher rubbed his belly with a chuckle, wiping alien blood onto a dirtied apron.

Erko said nothing, staring into the back of the butcher's shack. In the back was a pair of Tkrai peeling the skin off of other 'water lizards'. The two Batmen stopped when their eyes met Erko's. The butcher followed Erko's eyes to the back of the shop and glanced to the Batmen behind him. At once, the Batmen set to work again as the butcher turned back to Erko with another glowing grin.

"Dey your friends, bruddah?"

"No." Erko confessed raspily. "I have never met them."

"Don't mattah. I will let you have dem... for a good price."

It was then that Sofija that arrived, seizing Ekro by the arm. "Disgusting!" She snarled, looking upon the flayed alien corpses, but failing to notice the Batmen cowering in the back of the shop. "Do you realize, sir, that it is very illegal to distribute indigenous organisms or products made from indigenous organisms?"

"Are you with de authorities?" The butcher smiled. "Are you gonna take me away?"

"I will see that this shop is shut down! I promise you that this place will be reported to the authorities, do you understand me?"

The butcher only chuckled and resumed chopping the carcass he had left unattended. "Dey got more important tings to worry about. Nobody give a damn about your silly rules, lady."

"Come on, Erko!" A flustered Sofija growled, pulling on Erko's away from the shop. "Enough of this."

"Remember, bruddah, dey yours for a good price!" The butcher called behind them, pointing his bloodied machete to Erko.

Erko looked back to the butcher, but a deft yank on his arm directed his attention back to Sofija.

"Don't listen to him." Sofija commanded sternly. "What was he trying to get you to do?"

"Nothing." Erko lied. "He said nothing to me."

Within three miles of the nearest civilization, stands the laboratory, hidden within the patch of jungle. The patch was purchased by Generosb Palos, thirty years ago, when a logging company wanted to cut down the jungle. The patch is three-hundred feet long, it's petty big for a laboratory to hide in, but it's the best hiding spot to do illegal stuff in. The jungle is just like the ones outside the safe zone, but the animals have either died or are still hiding within the jungle. Then a group of shutters appeared out of nowhere as they were flying very fast. The shutters were dark blue and they’re hard to see at the night time. They were following the ground, which was marked by bright yellow glow sticks, to see the dirt road as the sun was covered by the treetops. The shutters made shape turns and weren't going to stop if something happened to them, but they slowed down as they got closer to their objective.

The shutters saw the laboratory as they got above the landing pads and dropped onto the ground of the landing pads. The landing pads’ lights began to turn on as the shutter got closer to the pads and landed. The shutters shut off and workers in bright orange vents ran towards three of the four shutters. A dolly, with enough room for twenty containers, rushed towards the shutters as they stopped in front one of the shutters. And then the shutters began to open their doors as the men ran towards them and started to carry the containers to the dolly. The containers were from different companies and countries such as: Etarian Order, New Kotayk, KangChai, Tri-Star Mining, and many others. The containers had to be carefully carried and dropped as they could be either break or be damaged. Two people would carry the containers for the sides, walk slowly towards the dolly, and then dropped slowly onto it.

The fourth shutter opened its door and two men exited out of the shutter as the man with curly hair and a nametag that said: “Victoro Palos: Head of Brahma Research Company”. While another man exited out of the shutter, wearing glasses and holding a notepad, he dashed towards Victoro. Victoro was walking to the large metal door when it started to rain then the man said, “Victoro! Do you remember what I said on board the shutter?”. He smiled as Victoro said, “No, I was too busy, thinking about stuff.” and the guy shook his head as he said to him, about what he had said on the shutter. “Boss, most of the containers on the other shutters was stuff from labs. While the one is a plant, that was found outside of the safe zone. Have a look at it.”. The guy gave the notepad to Victoro as the rain began to hit the pad; the pad had a picture of the plant: a light red-yellow flower, below the picture, it said, “Unknown flower. Must be tested if it’s harmful or not.”.

He gave the pad back to the guy as he grabbed it from Victoro’s right hand as his left was entering the password to the metal door. The door opened as Victoro and the guy walked towards the inside of the laboratory. The door shut as the guys entered the bright hallway and Victoro said, “Where will the containers be at?”. The guy then said, “Underground, boss. As it will be unpacked and given to other workers, while the flower will be taken to a lab.”. Victoro walked to the elevator as he pushes the button and turned to the guy and said, “Thanks, mate. Where are you going to be?”. The guy said, “I’ll be going back outside to make such that the containers are loaded and ready to go to the laboratory.”. “Alright. I’ll see you there, Mr…” said Victoro as he had a hard time remembering the guy’s name as the guy said, “It’s Eugenio, Boss.”. Victoro then said, “Eugenio, sorry about that. I have a hard time with remembering names.”

Eugenio smiled and then said, “Its fine, boss.” the elevator’s door opened as Eugenio said, “The elevator is here.”. And Victoro walked towards the elevator and said, “Thanks, Eugenio.” as he pushed a button, which closed the elevator’s door. Eugenio smiled as he walked towards the metal door to go outside once more to watch the workers loading the containers.”.

Kaichang, Silver Pagoda

The doors opened with a soft breath, letting loose a breath of cool air and subtle lavender. In walked the Executive Officer of Kaichang, Mobuntui Hou. Accompanies by a wing of identical youthful servants in black. Lefen alongside him.

Both men were dressed in deep burgundy half-robes. Long tails trailed off behind them, opening to reveal solid-color black dress pants, trimmed in yellow and white and stripped at the seem like old-world military uniforms. The suits were distinguishing in both the ancient form that had returned, and the modernity of the mix of satin and heavy polyesters. Embroidered on the chest and arms were emblazoned dragons, horned like wildebeest, and maned like lions. And like the dragons, several layers of raised collars guarded their heads.

Walking into the assembly room, the table of Directors turned to look. Raising in respect for their highest officer as he took the table.

The room was as open to the outside as it was closed. Heavy plated, armored windows provided an open portal to the world outside. Letting in the light and the sights of Kaichang's crater as it wrapped gently and distantly around. The flitting dots of cruising vehicles flashed through the air, muted by the room's insulation.

What dominated the chamber much like the pure white light that glowed from the solid ceiling above them was a dull humming silence. Subtle notes danced in the air as the readout holograms flickered between diagrams and charts of the city's hour-to-hour operations. Where in Hou's home it was the economic status, here it was more operational: departures and arrivals that minute (always constant), traffic among the AI corridors that ran spokes through the crater, water status reports, and electrical production and consumption (as well as the hearty reserves). The deliverance of information was cold and calculated, it removed any argument as to its meaning. It showed itself bare and naked in the black and white of numbers and bars and graphs.

“Mr. Mobuntui, sir.” a young man said, standing at the side of his chair as his cohorts sat down, “How are you today?”

“I am fine, Cao Mi.” Hou replied, having taken his seat, “I was told you have a proposal you'd like to make to the Board, and myself.”

“I do.” Cao Mi bowed. He was one of a growing few. The mixing of race had not come – or come nearly as heavy – to his kin as it had the rest of them in this past generation. Through some grace – or lack there of – in his parents he had remained a pure bred Chinese. He was agile in his physique, and smart. His narrow eyes were bright with the sharp nature of a young man.

“Have you looked at the mine reports for the Kaichang mines?” he asked. The soft white lights shining off his bald head. If he had maybe cut his eyebrows, he would blend in with the servants who had taken their spaces on the walls. If considerably longer lived than they.

“Yes. By this date it would have produced eighty million four hundred thousand seventy metric tons of raw iron and bauxite.” Mobuntui said exactly, “And with the ships we've scrapped since setting down on this planet the refined ingots puts the city's total steel and aluminum production at about one-hundred eighty million metric tons of final metals, giving the city a hard asset credit security of nine-hundred billion. This of course not counting into the payment of upkeep and wages and equipment, which puts the security value lower sense we can only store so much of it. But it still effects our end of the day value.

“Yes, Mr. Cao, I read the reports. Are you suggesting that we should buy a starship?”

“Do you remember the original geologic surveys?” Cao asked respectfully.

“It's been twenty to thirty years since I have.” Hou said, “What are you implying?”

“I'm implying we're reaching our local critical mass, your honor.” said Cao, “The initial data we received on ore-scouting the planet and surveying the geology of the crater when it was just a research outpost suggested a possible metal yield of approximately a hundred fifty million tons of metal in the cave and vein networks around the crater. Granted at the time the geologists could not pierce or survey for deposits that might have sunken to the bottom of the ground water reserves under the rock, but all intents and purposes I believe it'll be best for the city if we circumvent the danger of reaching our peak output, which at this rate we'll no doubt reach in five to ten years. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I suppose I should.” Mobuntui Hou smiled, if mostly as a formality, “Just to keep the ball rolling.”

“Thank you.” Cai bowed. Leaning back from his chair he hovered his hand over the table in the center of the room. Sensors and eyes detected his hand, and threw into the air a holographic keyboard he typed on. Ultimately changing the nature of the projection over the table from municipal readouts to a local map of the southern-most designated Human Safe Zone. A neon marker showed the location of the city, nestled in the forested bosom of the mountains and hills of the northern Maipu mountain face.

“I doubt what I am to suggest is necessarily the most original of all suggestions,” Cai began as he stepped away from the table, “but I'm fronting it if only because of the dire situation we're climbing towards. Though we were no doubt destined to come upon it sooner or later.

“But we should, with urgency, seek out our property claims not only within the safe-zone, but outside of it.” Cai added.

“I've heard the proposition eight times over a span of about ten years each.” one of the men at the table argued. Hou Tsaing, one of the oldest directors to remain in service. Where others had retired to pass the position to their sons or died, he had kept on going.

He was well old enough to remember with clarity Earth, and its destruction by the Listeners. Though he spoke little of it himself. His very body did much of the talking to him, and was perhaps the reason why he had not simply died, and kept going with an unnatural vitality.

Scorched and burned over, doctors had repaired and replaced much of him with machines. Injuries and scars inflicted on him by the very final minutes of Earth had given him implants the body over. He was at this point a cyborg. An ancient, brooding cyborg.

Both his arms were no longer flesh and bone and instead egg-shell white fiberglass and graphite-black metal and carbon alloy. The smoothness of the finish was surreal and mystifying. It was the same on his feet and legs, though those were covered by flowing formal dress.

His face was heavily wrinkled and mired deeply by the biological process of aging. But his eyes were still alert. But they were different. They were exact, if too much. Looking at them one could tell they were off. There was a uneasy unnaturalness in them that only got stronger when he looked at you. Into you. And for the implants concerning his head, those were the only stand outs in his face. If he had not his collars and he turned his head one may point out the solid-black chord of carbon fiber and fiberglass that built up his new spine, but for all the moments of the day he walked he kept that hidden.

“I have not once heard this same proposal on a regular basis.” he said, his voice as Asian as you could get here. One of the last people to have not lost the dialect in several generations of cultural diffusal, “I assume that you will spell it differently.

“How will we get the materials then? March our own security forces into the jungles to lay down a flag, and hold at bay the other interests? I think you a fool if you say this!”

“Not at all.” Cao Mi smiled, deflecting aside his elder's aggressiveness with a shroud of learned confidence.

“Then speak.” Tsiang invited, opening his arms as he leaned deeper into his chair, “Let me know you're not a fool to the 'how'. Too many have dashed their dreams on not knowing that much. They speak to us like a bureaucrat from home petitioning for office. Too much what, not enough how.”

Cao Mi bowed, pointing to the map as several new lights lit up across the map. Showing the safe zone borders, and the numerous factions that laid claim to it. “At this point it would be best assumed that many of our land claims in The Zone are under the territory of a number of independent groups holding defacto control of our rights. We may be able to simply march them off, but we too clearly lack the service men required to effectively do so.

“So for the first case in my proposal I delegate we move to broadening existing locations with the small factions and city-states in the marked areas.” he added, as red boxes lit up within the safe zone, “Our position from Kaigchan centralizes us in relation to the bulk of all our mining claims within a range of about a million kilometers. The furthest mineral field we should have property to for surveying and mining is site KC-173, where at about nine-million kilometers away sets it alone and in the middle of the so-called Kingdom of New Kotayk.

“The rest I would guess are in small-scale agricultural communes and city-states much like ours. We have a few small faction-states within the area, but none we don't already do banking for.

“I propose for these parties we offer better interest deals for mining rights on these locations, or sweeten the deal with a prophet-sharing motive. We will of course need to ensure we maintain a minimum profit on the mines of seventy-five percent their output value to make the ventures worth our time and energy.

“If they don't comply, we'll need to deal with them later or simply outspend them so much we may move in unconventionally and under the table to acquire their governments.” Cai added, “The ultimate method of acquisition should not lie in us taking the territory by force and we instead should find softer methods for territorial acquisition if the case need be, not limited to annexation by any number of means.”

“My 'other methods', what do you mean?” Mobuntui Hou asked.

“Flat out buying them out or maneuvering local leaders we've purchased into position to allow political annexation. So we can incorporate them into our laws either way.

“The accounts we have that are held by any of these factions should give us a monetary edge should they act out of line. We can freeze and acquire their assets whenever we want and if they threaten to cancel or deny us from any promising sites when we produce the results for final surveys to make them reconsider. After which we will be able to stamp them out by force, even if we need to use budget PMCs to make it happen.

“It'll be short term costs but I doubt we'll be slipping from humanity's fortune top-ten any time soon or for long when we make the moves.

“Some of us here may even be able to work around any stonewalling local laws with private investment and property ownership if the case arises. But this should be attached to the case-by-case folder.

“Measures to take advantage of the properties in the larger state of Kotayk will prove more imposing in the long term since they have enough size and power in their own right that even our buying power will make it impossible to over turn them. At this level we will have to become conventional in all regards, and will need to take on a roll that makes us less a competitor – as it could end up being in many areas in the local region – and more a developer. In that area, much of the ore and metals we produced I predict will be sold back to the Kotayk economy than to ours. So when approaching them we will need to wait for the proposals to make the table and really receive and give based on context at the time.

“But should that happen, we could get better deals when the kingdom is at its weakest and they can afford to bend to our own demands. But right now we might just break even.”

“What about the areas we should own outside the Safe Zone?” Lefen asked, “Kaichang's mines are – at least on paper – over double the number have within the area. We've over a hundred or more in the wilderness alone. How do you propose we reach out there without putting ourselves at risk? Or our manpower?”

“That's the harder part, obviously.” Cai admitted humbly. Waving his hand as the map changed again, almost at his will. Now zones outside humanity's safe zone were lit up.

“We have over two-hundred twenty potential mining zones outside the safe-zone, all above a minimum of five thousand square kilometers.

“The closest one we can use as a testing ground to claim initiatives.” the map cut out all the rest of the irrelevant plots to one on the southern side of the mountains as them, “KC-80 is a known forested area equivalent to Earthly boreal forests. Or as much as Brahma can get in its own fashion.

“Among hundreds of hostile or deadly local floral and fauna – mega or otherwise – the region is home to fifty Tkrai tribes as studied and mapped by the Tkrai Advocacy Foundation, most of which hunter-gatherer groups who of late have been in growing conflict with their own growing tribes, and the incursion of Tkrai refugees who fled south in the last fifty years after the refugee incursions from Earth.

“Even with aircraft and heavy weapons we would be only a spit in a bucket if we entered the local conflicts on our own, and the arrival of heavily-armed humans would change the nature of the conflict enough we would in short time have a coalition in place to combat us. And at our state we don't have the capabilities to mount an offensive conflict. Defensive, sure we can.

“I propose that in this local case we adopt a policy of civilizing the natives. We take receptive tribes under our protection and we arm them. And we prepare them.

“Fostering positive relations with intelligent directive – indirect – from the Tkrai Advocacy Foundation should put us on a positive edge with our select tribes as we give them the means to tip the scales of combat and push out – or destroy – local tribes to thin out for us.

“Under the long term our focus should be in maintaining a promise of protection for our groups and guide them to at least a loose decentralized government we can control. As an immature nation, we can make looser deals with them with far-greater gains than what we may our human counter-parts. The only unfortunate circumstance would be the speed at which this happens. We can't expect instant results the same way we can with the weaker sub-states around us. And we will need to groom them well.

“But on the long-term we will be making an industry for ourselves as a hub to produce and dispatch the officers and gear necessary to educate the Tkrai and maintain a human protectorate over their... people.

“Plenty Batmen will die no doubt. But has that not been the course of our own civilization? And as proven by The Listeners the status quo of the galaxy, if not the universe?”

Pratchapadri City
The old Kolkatan designs of Old Town, preserved as historical sites, gave way to a wide swath of green - Counsel Park. A single, towering, silver-leafed brahmapura tree held place in the center of the park, living in pleasant ecological balance with Earth-based oaks and cherry trees. The brahmapura tree used the other mighty presence in the sky to fuel its ATP production - Brahmapura. Its leaves were specially designed to capture radiation from Brahmapura, giving them their characteristic tissue-paper thickness and silver color.

On the other side of Counsel Park, Pratchapadri City began in earnest. The financial district made for an impressive skyline, although it was somewhat short by old Earth standards. Buildings broke with the pale-colored and under-decorated Kolkatan style and exploded into opulence. Support pillars were made of marble; lush, colorful carpets and smoky lighting was standard in foyers; man-made waterfalls cataracted off of skyscrapers as an ecologically-friendly water feature; rooftop, balcony, and building-face gardens filled with colorful native (many, in fact, rather toxic) and imported plants were everywhere. Though air transportation was common in the less successful districts, those with wealth preferred to get around in the most extravagant and custom-made cars they could afford. Chandra Patil had even created a faux-gasoline powered town car, with carefully placed speakers and fume emitters replicating the sounds and smells of an old form of technology. It was, of course, certified green by the central government. Even so, Patil had ensured that the car, if necessary, could run on gasoline. He had even gone on a few drag races using a mixture of deconstitutionalized plastics and alcohol as fuel. He'd beaten the other ultra-rich participants only once. Of course, he himself hadn't participated - he paid a driver Robotic Intelligence to do so. After all, as a robot, its reaction times were likely well above his own. But the other ultra-rich - or their driver RI's, rather - had simply created better cars.

Very few people knew about this activity, of course. Dr. Moya Jain, Economic Counsel, was one of those few. She'd hired a private investigator to follow Mr. Patil. Honestly, at this point, she'd hired an entire detective agency to follow all the ultra-rich. The waste of money was staggering, especially when the farms around Pratchapadri were struggling. Many hadn't mastered the open-air agriculture that the previous Chief Counsel had enforced, and the subsidy program to assist them through the transition had grown bloated and convoluted, with dozens of loopholes thrown in. Agriculture, Dr. Jain knew, was a very lucrative investment right now. So long as you knew which loopholes to exploit, your company didn't even need to make money. It didn't even need to make produce.

Unlike the exterior of the Counsel building - located in the western edge of Counsel Park - the offices were much more Spartan in their decor. Sure, there was the standard marble flooring, and the Chief Counsel's office was decorated in the old Kolkatan style, but most of the offices were filled with holographic projectors, sheafs of paper, electronic messaging boards, and the other standard office fare. There wasn't room for much else.

Dr. Jain was turning over the Problem in her head. Days ago, the stock market had nearly crashed as a single investor had decided to retire and sell all his stock. That lone investor - now an ultra-rich - had set off a massive chain reaction as RI's instantaneously reacted to the sell. The only thing that had stopped it was a banker by the name of Kumar Mitchell. He had announced his bank's intention to provide millions in credit to stop the market's temporary slide as an act of generosity.

Companies and consumers alike were enamored with credit and awash in debt. Dozens of critical industries, including agriculture and manufacturing, were only being sustained by continued investment despite never once making a profit. New construction projects languished, waiting on some critical part or another from some factory or another. Meanwhile, people quietly ignored all the danger signs and flocked to easy entertainment. Jungle tours were a common distraction.

The National Party was advocating a new tariff to stabilize the economy, and Moya had no idea if it would work. Chief Counsel Demi wanted her report by the Counsel meeting today. That was only minutes from now. Sighing, Dr. Jain got up from her desk.

On her way to the Counseling Chamber, she stopped at the small coffee stand in the hallway. The Tkrai vendor, T'vorak, had almost become a friend. She always made sure to tip him well, at least. Even so, every time she stopped, she felt guilty. Coffee was absurdly expensive. The farms that were making it had to operate at a loss, so much of their crop was wasted. Meanwhile, they weren't producing useful goods - like wheat. But thanks to the subsidy program, she could get coffee. And, damnit, she liked coffee.

An RI butler opened the expensive mahogany door that lead into the Counseling Chamber. Discreetly hidden away in the bottom left corner, she could just make out the Timbeross logo.

Chief Counsel Demi was already seated at the head of the arc-shaped table, also mahogany. The table and the door were the room's two nods to the important businesses of state that happened here. And the marble floor, of course. The walls were plainly painted, the lights were recessed in the ceiling, and even the chairs were simple dense plastic and fabric.

Diplomatic Counsel Tikrik's fur was bristled. Security Counsel Vivek had a particularly serious face today. Evidently Moya wasn't the only one with bad news.

"Let's get started," Demi said. She had her own coffee from the Tkrai vendor. "Vivek?"
"I've held my tongue until now. Patil's mercenaries are now a full third the size of our expeditionary forces," Vivek said. Demi frowned. Vivek continued, "We cannot allow a private citizen to hire what is essentially his own army within our borders. I suggest decisive legal action."
"Can't we hire more mercenaries?"
"For what purpose? To start a civil war? And what money do we have? My budget is constrained enough as it is," Vivek said. He shot Moya a glare.

This meeting was starting well.

"With the agriculture subsidies, I'm giving you as much as is reasonable," Moya said.
"Oh, damn the farmers! And damn their backers! They spend money making coffee while we sit in a 'safe' zone on the border of a militarized police state that could invade at any minute!" Vivek said. Moya slowly moved her coffee off the table and into her lap.
"Our relations with The Coalition are currently and have historically been cordial," Tikrik said.

Vivek exchanged a glance with Moya and then Demi in the awkward silence that followed. Vivek had made his opinions on a Tkrai attempting to handle human diplomacy known, in private, at a very awkward meeting with Demi and Moya.

Demi took a sip of her coffee.

"Your counsel has been noted, Vivek. Anything else?" Demi asked, attempting to formally end Vivek's initial report.
Vivek continued after a moment. "No news from expedition 23 yet. Another week and we'd better go after them. The Civil Disruption Task Force hasn't given me any news about the Morganists or the Workers United. In this case, no news is good news."
"Very well. Tikrik?" Demi said.

Vivek's eyes widened in shock. The order that these meetings had always gone in put Tikrik last. Moya was only amused at Demi's small snub. It seemed like a very Demi thing to do, and Moya had never much cared for the formalities of politics.

Tikrik cleared his throat - a much higher-pitched sound than a human would normally make.
"Relations are, for the moment, cordial with our neighbors. However," and here Tikrik's fur bristled again, "I believe that it is time we sent diplomatic envoys to the Tkrai nations."
"Are you out of your mind? Do you remember the riots when we outlawed slavery? There would be lynchings! Of us! Of you!" Vivek said.
"My safety is not a concern of state," the Tkrai said.
"Well mine damn sure is. Your people are already equals in the eyes of the law. Why should we stir up trouble by announcing an alliance with the b-Tkrai!"
"I do not propose an alliance. I merely-"
"You think the Order would see the subtlety between 'diplomatic relations' and an alliance? Do you think that Timbeross would continue selling us lumber if we declared friendship with their 'workers'? Nothing good can come of this. It's too soon!"
"Gentlemen," Demi said. Her words cut through the budding argument. Demi locked eyes with the two Counsels. After a moment, she turned back to Tikrik. "Your counsel has been noted. Anything else?"
"No, Chief Counsel."
"Good. Moya?"

Moya's stomach churned.

"The National Party's proposed tariff," she started, intending to get it over with, "I have no idea what effect it will have. While it will certainly serve to decrease imports, that may not even be helpful. Our problems seem to stem from a failure to have economic restraint rather than international competition. But preventing foreign companies from undercutting our businesses might stabilize the economy long enough to create a positive GDP growth."
"So you've spent the last week researching this proposal only to say..." Demi prompted.
"I frankly don't know if it's a good idea or not."
"Is there anything you do know is a good idea?" Demi asked.
"If there was I would have already implemented it."
"The market nearly crashed a few days ago and that's all you have to say? You don't know?" Vivek said.
"The stock exchange subsequently stabilized thanks to the actions of Mr. Mitchell," Tikrik pointed out.
"Yes, but we can't keep injecting money into the market forever. People will lose confidence," Moya said. "And their confidence is already shaking. I fear that with such a great number of buyers earlier this year, we may see an even greater number of sellers soon. And, honestly, the stock market is our only real economic powerhouse at the moment. Manufacturing plants are slowing down. Businesses are content to buy from Tri-Star Mining rather than exploit our own resources in a sustainable manner. Agricultural subsidies have resulted in a bloated industry. And if Kangchai loses confidence in our stock exchange, they may withdraw, flooding the market with shares, and forcing us to settle our debt to them in a less mutually-beneficial manner. We can't afford to lose the stock exchange."

The room was silent.

"Thank you for your counsel, Moya. Anything else?" Demi said.
"No," Moya said.
"Then this meeting is ended."

Demi had already made up her mind on two of the issues raised. They'd send a diplomatic envoy to the largest Tkrai tribe - Tikrik would know which, surely. And they would begin an investigation into the necessity of Kama Brahma's mercenaries. Surely that madman didn't need quite so large an army. The tariff, however, she would need to think about.

~o~0~o~
Kama Brahma, outside the Safe Zone
Chandra Patil, ultra-wealthy owner of Kama Brahma, smiled with pride before continuing with his speech.

"And so, you should count yourselves very lucky to be the first to witness these majestic creatures in their natural habitats. As I cut this ribbon," here he raised the oversized scissors, "I now hereby officially welcome you to the soft opening. Welcome to Kama Brahma!" He cut the ribbon. The crowd - wealthy and elite from every country - cheered and clapped politely. As he smiled and waved, an aide ran up to him and whispered something in his ear. Chandra excused himself from the platform gracefully, quietly thankful for the ban on filming this event. The crowd began to disperse into the guest center, admiring the exotic fossils and exhibits on Brahman biology. Sections of the guest center were closed off with men in neatly-pressed uniforms guarding the entrance. A buffet in the corner with a fully trained French chef served guests plates of meats and cheeses. Beyond the windows, the steep cliffs of the island gave way to tranquil lake water, until the far end of the crater rose up again, meeting the untamed jungle on the other side.

Chandra followed the aide out the guest center's doors and into the sweltering Brahman tropical heat. A granite path ran from the plush guest center to the hotel, branching off to the tour path. RI drivers waited to whisk guests off to those enclosures currently open to the public, deep into the jungle. Two more hotel buildings were still under construction, and a sign pointed out that the Marine Life center was still "Coming Soon!". Mr. Patil and the aide turned off the main path into a nondescript concrete building marked "Employees Only".

"What do you mean, security concerns? What do you think I'm paying you people for!" Chandra asked the mercenary leader. The man was remarkably clean and neat for a mercenary.
"Many of my men are not comfortable working so close to these animals," Jock Jonsson responded.
"That is no reason for them to wander off while-"
"If you would excuse me, Mr. Patil," Jonsson grabbed a handkerchief from his neatly-pressed suit and blew his nose silently, "but they did not wander off. They were chased off. This-"
"So your men are afraid of a [b]bird[/i]? We've beaten back Mayura for years! Are you less competent then the men who came here with nothing but the ships they landed in? I've given you the best equipment, the best training, the best everything. Damn you, take what your given and do your job!"
"This incident with Dr. Katra was regrettable, but I assure you that we're-"
"Enough with your assurances! Go do your job before another xenobiologist loses her legs!"

Jonsson neatly folded the handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket. He paused, about to say something, thought better of it, and left out the door.

Holo-screens filled the air in the control center, briefly washed out by the hallway light as Jonsson left. Dominating the wall was a map of Kama Brahma. Augmented Reality glasses - the standard requirement of a control room tech - overlayed the map with interactive information depending on the job of the wearer. Power grid, plumbing, containment field integrity, animal health, motion tracking, weather, even a financial map of which exhibits cost the most and which were the most economically efficient.

Mr. Patil grabbed a pair of AR glasses and slipped them on. He toggled through the menu until he could see the soft open's tour path, overlayed with guest information and animal locations. The guests would only be able to see three of the eight megafauna enclosures. The Pratchapadrian government wouldn't allow him to tour guests past four of the carnivorous animals until enhanced security measures were put in place. Chandra had fought tooth and nail for the Mayura exhibit, and had finally worn the government down, but only on the condition that- ah, here was the man now, damn him.

Dr. Wilson Brahms, ecological expert, was here to "supervise" the opening. "Let's hope that nothing else untoward happens today," Dr. Brahms said.
"The security force in charge of the enclosure has been dealt with," Chandra said.
"I should hope so."
"Perhaps you'd like to sit in the viewing area?" Chandra asked, gesturing to the glass-enclosed sitting room toward the back.
"Very well," Dr. Brahms said, temporarily leaving Mr. Patil alone.

Chandra went back to examining the guests. While they were important people, they weren't very important people. The invitations to the various heads of state, entertainment stars, and chief executives were waiting in his inbox. Until the guests from this round of tours had safely gone through the park, the invitations wouldn't be sent out. So confident was Chandra, that he'd set his inbox to automatically send the email at the end of the day.

Hours later, he was proven right, as the park performed perfectly for the day, and the guests were peacefully resting in their hotels. He sent the invitations.

Space, Orbiting the Gas Giant Indra, ~15 AU From Brahma

Indra glowed like a jewel set in the black. Its angry radiance drowned out the stars behind it, making it the only source of light save for the floodlights that dotted the solar sail frames and washed the copper-colored sails in bright, white light. This was the first time Laz had laid eyes on it. He had seen images of Indra, and watched videos that showed the violent dance of clouds that rushed across its surface. Like all school children on Brahma, he knew the Indus system in a trivial, artificial way. By the time he was six he could name all of the planets, place them in order, both on distance from the main star and on biggest to smallest. Discounting the brown dwarfs Shiva and Kali that lumbered along the farthest edges of the system, Indra was the largest object orbiting Indus. It had four times the mass of Jupiter, the biggest gas planet in the old Earth system. More relevant, and hard to fathom for Laz, Indra was somewhere around seventy five times the mass of Brahmapura. It was big, Laz could see, but there was nothing next to it that allowed him to visually understand how truly big it was.

Indra wasn't known for its size. Sharing a system with Shiva and Kali, it was only considered the biggest when they were taken out of the running. Indra was known for it's savage surface. A swirl of fast moving brown, yellow, and red bands, Indra stewed with millions of immortal storms. Unlike Jupiter, who's Great Red Spot still played a part in the collective memory of humanity, Indra had seven such storm eyes. They differed in size, some mere pimples while others were large enough to swallow all the moons of Brahmapura seven times.

"That is why I chose to get into this field." Eury said, excited and awestruck. He could see it in her eyes. She looked at the planet below like a teenager in love.

"It is incredible." Laz agreed. "I always wanted to visit the planets, but I never imagined them like this. There is nothing that captures the experience of actually being there." He looked at Eury and smiled fondly.

The cloudy bands of the planet were as scattered and violent as the storms that occupied them. They mixed with each other, zig-zagging and stirring into one another until their boundaries were no longer easy to see. Every few moments, pinpricks of light flashed on the surface, dancing just beneath the surface of the clouds.

"Is that lightning?" Laz asked.

Eury nodded. "Indra produces a lot of lightning. They look small, but in reality they are so big that a single strike would cover the entirety of Brahma twice over." A sudden sense of self-awareness washed over her face, and she blushed ans smiled shyly. "I'm sounding like your teacher or something now, aren't I?"

"Not at all." Laz answered. "This sort of thing is fascinating." he looked out the window as another point of white light flashed on the surface. "What causes it to be so stormy?"

"That's very interesting." Eury replied excitedly. "Indra has a moon that is also a Gas Giant. The only time that has ever been seen in human space, as far as I know at least. Aindri. You can't see it from here, it's somewhere above us right now, but the tidal force Aindri's exerts on Indra disturbs its atmosphere."

//"Corporals Oils, Marx, and Paladino to the landing bay. Corporals Oils, Marx, and Paladino to the landing bay."// a soothing voice called out over the PA.

"What's that?" Eury asked.

Laz stood up and straightened his uniform. "Arrivals. The passengers we picked up at Indra Station." he grinned. "I will be back soon. There isn't anything dangerous down there."

She nodded and looked out toward the planet.

Laz rubbed the grip of his grandfather's Ultrasonic Pistol as he walked. It was instinctive, a small reminder of home while he was this far away. He figured that it looked authoritative, like a reminder to everyone around him that he was armed and ready. This was a IU ship, and its crew was made of naval personnel, but most weren't armed. This was a simple supply ship after all. They had no need of marines.

The hallways of the Aro were long passages with few abrupt turns. Rather, they curved slightly until they reached their destinations. Laz wasn't sure if they did this for some structural reason, or if it was just another attempt by the designers to soften the design so it hid the reality that they were in a nuclear missile hurdling at painful speeds through the radioactive nothingness of space. Space travel was, at its root, a terrifying prospect. There were safety's guaranteed to them by being on a habitable planet. When stranded on Brahma, you could breath the air and walk across a surface thanks to the presence of gravity and friction. In space, you stayed in your vessel or you died. Help, two, was millions if not billions of kilometers away. There were plenty of people with genuine phobias of space travel, much more than there were of planetary forms of transportation. Designers fought this with controlled lighting built into the wall panels, favoring soft glows to harsher alternatives. The surfaces were variations of "Off-white", light enough without being glaringly bright.

Crewmen and women passed him by, busy with their own tasks. On this level of the vessel, they were all on duty. Laz watched as a plastic-plated white porterbot ambled by, causing everyone to give it a wide birth. It moved mechanically, its two-legged strides sudden, shaky, and inorganic. He loved to watch their arms. No matter how awkward their gaits might be, every porterbot held its arms so still that, if programmed correctly and given precise enough hands, they would make excellent surgeons. It was the work of gyroscopic joints at the shoulder and elbow. This model lacked a head, but instead had a single eye in the middle of its chest placed on a strip that could rotate three-hundred and sixty degrees around its torso.

Laz arrived in the landing bay as a couple of shuttles entered. They came from a massive airlock on the far end, which allowed for crewmen to move freely along the bay without being forced to evacuate with the entrance of every average-sized shuttle. Overlooking the scene from a catwalk, Captain Kgosi watched keenly as the new arrivals came to a stop.

"Is there something bad about this one, boss?" Laz grinned. Kgosi did not look up, and his expression remained one of military sternness.

"We got a violent criminal on this one." Laz watched as two guards dragged a man in a straight-jacket out of a shuttle. He was fighting them every step of the way, move as if he was punching them despite his restraints, and as if he was biting them despite a muzzle covering his face. His hair was a grey bush of uncombed knots and rats, and his skin was discolored and bruised.

"What's this one?" Laz asked.

"Orbital Madness." Kgosi suggested. "He was an eccentric, but there was no sign of insanity until last week."

"What happened?"

"He ate his roommate." Kgosi said coldly.

Laz looked back down at the man and winced. "That's an extreme case for Orbital." he said. Orbital Madness was a term given to the breakdown of mental facilities that happened to some people when they spent too much time in space. It had been compared to cabin fever in the past, though it was much more than that. Stuck in a small environment, isolated by an extreme distance from the rest of human civilization and poorly socialized, some people started to lose their senses. It was more common among sensitive people who felt isolated from those they shared their space with. Depression and paranoia were the most common symptoms, and hallucinations were not unheard of. Murderous cannibalism, however... that was something from a horror story.

"They talk to me!" Laz heard the madman shout. He screamed under his breath, like a loud demonic mutter. His voice sounded forced and strained. "They're out there."

The guards ignored him. Laz fell in line, trailing them as they led him through the halls. The two other guards fell in with the captain and took the lead, clearing the halls as they dragged their unwilling prisoner to the brig.

"Obsidian extinction!" he cackled nonsensically. "They know! They know you! They know!"

Laz was legitimately frightened. He had seen plenty in his time, but this type of deranged psychopathy was a new experience. He had spent his career in Nai Kolkatta patrolling the safe zone for pirates and Mayura, but insanity and crime were not in his area of knowledge or training. He watched nervously, ready to jump into action at any moment.

The muzzle his most of the man's face. His skin was thick and wrinkled, and his eyes were partially obscured by a jutting brow. Everything underneath the muzzle was left to imagination. Laz imagined needle-sharp teeth, like some sort of predator.

"They see!" the convict shouted on the top of his lungs. A wall panel flickered to the side as he spoke. It was subtle, but it caused Laz's heart to jump into his throat. That was silly. Laz cursed himself for being so weak minded.

ENTARIAN IMPERIAL PALACE, PARIA GARDEN

---

Velia brushed her black hair out of her eyes and took a moment to appreciate the garden from the cool stone chair. Tilting her head back she looked up through the vast sloped glass pyramid that enclosed the garden. Above the sun seemed to be set centrally between the glass panes right where they intersected, it shone down right at her and reflected off the smooth stone of the meeting island into a million tiny rays, it was impossible to not see some reflection of the sun here. The small island she was on had been carved from a single piece of stone, four chairs and one table. It was a beautiful marble thing set in the middle of a stream that flowed gently around it right at the center of the small jungle of a garden. To be truthful there were six such indoor gardens in the palace, each one featuring some climate from old Entaria, and each one enclosed by its own glass pyramid. Still, she enjoyed this one the most. The mist from the stream that flowed over several small waterfalls gave it a cool and warm feeling, better yet the little rainbows that formed from the light reflected off the main island provided a unique feeling of being among the clouds during the day. Velia came here whenever she wanted to escape from her responsibilities; she often felt it was her own sanctum, a private place to go; it might have truly been that considering how few enjoyed the humidity of this garden and how abandoned it usually was. Yet across from her and beyond the stone table on the small island was her father. She had been calledhere today. Not that she minded really, still she supposed it was her father’s way of reminding her who truly owned what. The whole of the palace was his sanctum, and she knew he liked to remind her of that from time to time.

Eventually she raised her head and spoke, “So I’m here. It’s nice to be somewhere beyond the throne room to talk Father, if you ask me it feels like death in there.”

Veras, Emperor of the Entarian Order, her father chuckled at that, “I have asked you if you remember. I swear Velia since you were born you hated that room. Though I guess the lighting can bit a bit depressing I hardly think it warrants the hate you seem to give it.”

“Hm, well I suppose. Though you certainly should hope that Erian stays in health, should something happen I might well run off in fear of sitting there day in and day out.”

Her father smiled and retorted, “Oh you shouldn’t talk of your brother so, he has a family now.” The old man leaned into the marble chair and continued, “Anyway Velia you must have an inkling of curiosity as to why I called you here.”

“I have wondered, you normally call me to the throne room when you want to talk officially. If you grow lonely Father you must remember you do have a wife. “ She smiled, her father held back a laugh, Velia had begun to notice the wrinkles in his face these last few years, the dark hair he had only five years ago had faded to a ghostly white and it seemed for a man of a mere sixty he was far too old. Then again he still smiled the same as ever, though Velia did not often see her father back then, in truth she was mostly raised by her uncle, she remembered the days he spent with her fondly, and above all else his smile. Eventually she continued with a sigh, “Though in truth I am curious. I would hazard a guess it has to do with Ellai though, given she became an adult only a week ago.” Well, if Ellai could be considered an adult, she still seemed too young in her manner, though at times that was endearing in of itself.

Her father responded warmly, “You always were a sharp one Velia, but this concerns you and her in equal measure. To her first though… Yes Ellai is an adult now, yet unlike you I fear she has had relatively little real responsibility. You always had something to do, even when I was not around. You were only 14 when you pursued your own projects and started acting at your position. You know Ellai has never shown that ambition.” Velias father sighed and she wondered what he was getting at before he continued, “Ellai is a member of this family and she is beyond childish innocence now, I want to see how she does in a real position. So as for you, I mean to give you command of the city guard now that Terance has retired and if you consent I want you to allow Ellai that opportunity with a minor command over one of the safer sectors in the city.”

Velia would have to admit that was not what she expected, it was true that she was the only one of her siblings to serve time in the military, and it was true the position came with little real risk these days, but Velia had never anticipated to be given that level of authority. She looked more intently at her father and responded, “I would gladly father but… As for Ellai I just am not sure she can, or should, lead, you know how she is, more concerned with herself than anyone else.”

Her father sighed and looked down, “That is the issue isn’t it? Ellai has never known anyone that depended on her, so how can she lead? I mean to give her that experience, but I will be clear. Should you think, for even a moment that she is in danger, or is endangering others, you should pull her out. Still, we have known peace for seven years and those self-righteous terrorists rarely ever raise their heads these days, she should be safe as ever.”

Velia supposed that did make enough sense, “So when do you expect me to take the position up? Terance only left a few days ago and his retirement ceremony is only a week away.”

“Velia, it is my intention you to take the position at his retirement ceremony, shake hands with him, give him the medal for service, and then announce that you have been named his replacement.”

Velia moved uncomfortably, “He won’t take that as a slight would he? I always respected Terance, I would hardly want to offend him by filling the position the second he exits the building.”

Her father reached up and felt the rough stubble on his chin as he responded, “Oh no, Terance has already asked for us to be quick about his replacement. You should know he would want that considering how much time you spent with him on implementing the common market laws you spearheaded oh… Six? Six years ago.”

That was true enough; Velia had spent weeks at a time with Terance when she helped establish the common market laws. “I suppose. Though it does feel strange replacing him at his retirement ceremony… So, will we announce Ellai taking over command of one of the less hectic districts then as well?”

“No, I would rather that little fact be kept to us until we know how Ellai does under those circumstances, I can hardly announce her taking over a district and then take it back.”

“That makes enough sense then. I will make my own preparations, thank you for this Father, it is quite an honor.”

Her father slowly stood up, using his walking stick to assist himself, as he did so he spoke simply, “Velia I may not have spent my time with you as I did Erian, but I trust you more than any up and coming district captain in the guard. I am honored you would accept. As for Ellai, would you tell her? I have an urgent appointment later today.”

Velia had heard that a thousand times, though she never doubted it as true. She stood up and walked to his side of the table. She gave her father a warm hug which he gladly reciprocated before simply saying, “I will tell her right away.”

With that Velia’s father, the Emperor, walked slowly away with a nod and another smile, his black and red cloak trailing behind him and his ivory walking stick making a small click with every step. Velia watched him exit and by the time he had vanished though the glass door on the far end of the garden Velia found herself once again in a cool stone chair at the shining marble table. She had not expected this; then again it was no secret that she had been trying to get a position of late. She mulled it over in her head, Ellai in a position to enforce the law? How would a girl like that even be able to take the oath of the guard? Now that was a scary thought, the oath of the guard, more ceremonial than binding but still, Ellai would still be swearing to give her life for the nation if she had to…

It took some time but she eventually decided that it would be best to tell Ellai now. Velia stood up and dusted off her jacket, not that it was really necessary, but the military had taught her to respect a ceremonial uniform, even if the time she wore it as a member of the military was long past. As she made her way out of the garden Velia wondered how Ellai would take the news. Would she see it as a punishment? Perhaps she would know that father was trying to test her. Then again, perhaps not, still a girl at heart Ellai often took things at face value, something that Velia would have to look at remedying if she was to lead a district of the city guard. Velia sighed, was it even possible to change Ellai? Velia loved her without a doubt but she was still the same little girl she always was, Velia still had a hard time thinking her little sister was to lead a division.

NEW ENTARIA MARKET DISTRICT

---

It had been early that morning when Ramos ditched his escort outside the palace. He snickered at the thought of them scrambling to find him, it was good to be free of any special status at least for a moment. The smells of foreign foods had lured him to the central market located deep inside of the city and there he had found any multitude of things to do, though the noise was somewhat overbearing. Ramos wandered the crowded market plaza for hours, looking up the vast and pale metal and glass skyscrapers of the capital were in every direction and they seemed to stretch into eternity. Ramos remembered being told that this was how old Entaria was; all the cities had vast skyscrapers in great rows in place of sprawling developments. Still New Entaria may retain some of its namesakes culture but the refugees from Entaria were hardly a majority and the markets that thrived under the shadow of the skyscrapers were something that from the history books simply did not exist on Entaria. By and large the population of the nation and this very city were other refugees from the listener war that were desperate to find a place to belong. Ramos supposed that was the benefit of a caste structure, though you were limited by the circumstances of birth to set income brackets and work you always had a place, and you were always cared for.

Not to mention it had been a very long time since any humans had actually been a part of the low casts, it seemed to Ramos that the batmen had entirely filled that role, he could look to any stall over the heads of the crowd and see the batmen slaving away at stoves or storefronts. Batmen had indeed replaced the low castes. That was certainly a line of thought that brought back memories, Ramos remembered back to his childhood when he asked his father why the batmen were property and not people, the answer he got? ‘The batmen are property so real people, real humans don’t have to be.’ Ramos supposed there was a truth in that; the batmen provided the lowest castes, the free Tkrai took the place of the poor and the slaves took the place of the untouchables. Peace existed because even the poorest humans were what would have been considered middle class mere generations ago and their living conditions were always going to be well enough for most men.

The sun had begun to wane and Ramos was walking slowly observing the huddled crowd moving in every direction of the plaza where he had spent the day. It was then he was struck by a large man who seemed to be in a rush to go somewhere, do something. Ramos fell in a tumble and the glasses and hat he was using to conceal his identity in the crowd were sent to the ground and quickly trampled. Ramos struggled to pull himself up and looked around for the man who had run into him, it seemed he had fled off to wherever he had to be, to do whatever he had to do so urgently, predictable really. Ramos pulled the dirtied hat off the ground and pulled it down to cover his eyes. It seemed in this chaos people were not quick to see who you were, royalty or no. Ramos decided to walk out of the busy market; it was his sister who had pushed laws to legalize expansion of the frenzied things. She said that it promoted unity and commerce, Ramos felt they promoted crowds and noise. Still, here he was.

By the time Ramos had exited the crowd he was some distance from the market, the crowds noise had faded to a dull roar and Ramos decided to make his way back to the palace. It wasn’t precisely difficult to locate considering the fact that its towers were almost as immense as the skyscrapers around it. The walk brought Ramos onto the imperial street, named so because it intersected with the front gate of the palace estate. The enormous building towered over the wall that protected it and even from some several kilometres away Ramos could easily make out the vast square columns that lined the exterior of the building. The six enormous glass garden pyramids were also quite easily visible; they sat on the main roof between the skyscraper like towers, designed so the light was amplified that the shadow of the towers rarely interfered with that inside. At a glance Ramos knew that the building was certainly impressive, a testament to the power of the royal family. Yet… To stand under it rather than to watch from it was a peculiar experience, the common folk saw this day to day and yet every time Ramos snuck away to blend into the crowd it struck him as odd. It wasn’t that the extravagance of the palace was singular, not in a city this rich, but rather it was the reality that one man owned all of that. Ramos wondered how it felt to command a nation, to own a palace, to be one soul in pre-eminent power. Of course he scarcely wanted that, but the idea was certainly an interesting one, still his brother Erian and his sister Velia were well above him in succession and they were both better leaders than he would ever be.

Ramos was at the gate before long, a line of tourists stood just away from the guards. All tall the guards were wearing brightly coloured exosuits that had been decorated beyond practicality. Ramos took off the hat and handed it to some random bystander as he went into the line. He walked past the coloured line that the crowd stood behind and just as the guards leveled their weapons he spoke cutting off their warnings, “Please, guards would you let me into my own home? I am Prince Ramos, son of Emperor Veras.” Ramos pulled out a small paper like object and tapped it; it automatically unfolded and displayed a royal seal as well as all his personal information. Ramos handed the lead guard the digital paper.

The lead guard, distinguished by his golden colored helm took the paper and after a short time spoke out, “All guards lower your weapons, Prince Ramos returns to the palace, please open the gates!” The crowd behind him started cheering and asking for this or that as Ramos walked through the shining fifteen meter high titanium gate into the palace grounds and away from their droning requests. The lead guard followed him in and before long the large titanium gate was once again locked into place. The lead guard removed his helmet and looked at Ramos; he was a middle aged man, likely from a noble family. He had the ever present dragon cheek tattoos of an Orian and the similarly obvious blond hair. Ramos remembered that the Orian family was also up for the throne during the founding but yielded to Ramos’s grandfather for one reason or another. For a moment they both stopped and the guard asked, “Sir, why did you not tell us you were coming in so… Informally?” The guard handed the digital paper back after folding it up.

Ramos laughed and pocketed the digital paper, “I guess it would make it easier on you guys, but then what would be the point of sneaking off?”

The guard seemed shocked, “Sneak out? Sir you know you can take an escort and-“

Ramos cut the man off, “No, there is no point wandering the city if everywhere you go you are treated like a god. Nothing to see with an honour guard really, only the fake expressions on adoring fans and the backs of armoured soldiers.”

The guard nodded solemnly and asked, “Do you want to go by yourself? I will have to inform your father of this.”

Ramos responded jovially, “If you didn’t I would be as shocked as you were to see my ID paper. I will speak to my father.” With that the guard donned his helmet walked off and Ramos walked along the granite pathway in the opposite direction to the palace. The fountains around the palace grounds were enormous and carved into the shapes of old trees, stone branches blossoming leaves of water. Around them were the real trees, black trunks studded with branches and deep pink leaves they stood nine meters tall in almost uniform fashion, they created a relaxing canopy of shade around the fountains.. They were the last of a species that by all rights should have died on Entaria when everything else did,yet they stood tall. It was a nice place out here still, though Ramos knew his father would be significantly less nice when he entered the palace. That thought almost made him want to spend a bit longer watching the fountains and resting under the trees, yet he made his way to the vast doors that loomed ahead nevertheless. His father would likely relegate him to some minor duty as punishment, but Ramos never did mind that.

On almost every day, Praudyogi was a buzzing hive of activity, with vehicles filling the streets and people walking the streets. Occasionally, patrolling robotic police officers could be seen on the streets, though always stayed to themselves unless in pursuit of a criminal. The electrolaser emitters they carried were fearsome, perhaps, but they were set to stun by default, and were rarely used due to the low rate of crime in the city.
Above all else, the most striking feature of Praudyogi was the sleek, almost alien style of architecture of its buildings. Even the appearance of the city, down to the smallest detail, mirrored the behavior of the MBR, and the purpose that the country’s government had set out for itself. Above all else, the nation strived to bring about a second, permanent golden age for humanity and whatever allies it picked up along the way.
Praudyogi itself, even disregarding the attitude of the MBR, was an imposing metropolis that seemed to sprawl across the landscape of Brahma for endless kilometers. The outskirts even starkly contrasted the wild, untamed world round them. Outside the city’s walls lay not slums, but power plants and military fortresses. The fortresses were the first things one would see when approaching the city, their slate-gray architecture, walls bristling with defensive turrets, and the patrolling aircraft; oftentimes more than enough to frighten away interlopers, though few would actually be turned away by the soldiers. The domes of power plants would soon become obvious, telltale signs of reactors fortified and protected as to eliminate any concerns of accidents. They too were heavily guarded, oftentimes equally as much as the fortresses of the MBR’s military.
The walls, next, towered above visitors, though they were more intended to ward off Brahman wildlife and bandits than immigrants and tourists. Within the city itself, perhaps its most strange feature, there was a distinct lack of Tkrai slums. Unlike many human cities on Brahma, health codes and measures designed to protect the Tkrai prevented them from falling so harshly into poverty. Though few Tkrai could earn prestigious positions, they were valued citizens of the MBR, protected by law just like any other.
Whether it be towering skyscrapers that held immensely wealthy corporations, or the pristine housing units in which its people lived, Praudyogi was a metropolis that exuded efficiency in its very design. And, in order to maintain such marvels, immense resources were required.

Fortress Cerberus, 10km northwest of Praudyogi city limits
Although Cerberus was normally bustling with military activity due to the crucial part it played in Praudyogi’s defense network, it was especially busy on this day due both to the government mining equipment that had just arrived, along with the swelling numbers of soldiers and vehicles that now filled the base. The endless torrents of rain seemed as if they threatened to flood the compound, a reason why all the soldiers present were all the more eager to get on with their assignment.
“Are the animals that fuckin’ dangerous on this rock?” The engineer asked, barely offering the slightest glance to the woman next to him as he casually sorted through his tools.
She nodded, letting out a short laugh as she began to recall memories of expeditions outside the safe-zone. “Uhuh. They’re gigantic. I swear, some of ‘em could stomp a tank if they wanted to. Granted, we’ve never seen them do it, because we usually take out the aggressive ones before they have a chance to get close. You’d have to be incredibly stupid to want a fifteen-meter tall giant stomping around in the middle of your troops.”
“Fifteen meters?” The engineer asked, his face screwed up in confusion at the very idea of such massive animal life.
“Fuck, some of ‘em might’ve been bigger. I’d rather not get close enough to a live one to find out.”
“That’s probably why they’re sendin’ so many of you guys on a mining expedition.” The engineer quipped.
“That, or it’s political posturing. CE’s big anniversary speech is tomorrow, y’know.”
The engineer laughed, looking into the sky. “That’s true. He’s always been big of taking the fight to the Listeners. Bet you he’s got somethin’ real big planned.”
“No doubt.”

Timbeross HQ,
BetweenaRockandaHardPlace City

Joseph adjusted his tie and gave another smile in the mirror. With pearly white teeth and thick, black hair, he could be any women's dream. Yet he was still single, preferring the life of a bachelor. Behind him, on his desk, a large hologram showed an older man's face. 'How'd the shareholder's meeting go?' asked the hologram. 'Not bad. They were moaning at me a bit for not seeing an increase in the last quarter but whatever' replied Joseph, his eyes stuck on his hand mirror. The older man sighed audibly and rubbed his bald head. 'I wouldn't worry about those guys. Wha'cha do need to worry about is this meeting with the Chief. From what I hear, he'sa slippery bastard. Get this deal signed and we can keep choppin' the jungles and searching for treasure. If not, we'll have a problem. A big problem' 'Yeah, yeah' replied the CEO impatiently, his eyes fixated on his own appearance.

'A'ight. Just as long as you know. And Joseph - I'm receiving some reports from the sawmills. Don't push it off. I know it's annoying but we have to be careful. Using Batmen is Timbeross's worst kept secret and you know it. We can't have that shit gettin' out there.' the advisor's voice became stern. McKay stopped playing with his hair for a moment and closed his eyes in frustration. Just yesterday, he had received news of a 'small' slave revolt from one of the saw mills deeper inland. They attacked and killed their handler and gone on a rampage throughout the facility before being gunned down by a group of mercenaries. The rest of the slaves on the facility were now acting rebellious and Joseph was faced with a careful choice. He could massacre the entire enslaved tribe, have the bodies burnt and forget it ever happened but face the wrath of various Tkria advocacy inspectors and lose a chunk of workforce. Or he could try and pay them to keep them quiet. Either way, it was guaranteed that the slaves would never leave the sawmill. If this story got out across the safe zone, Timbeross would be finished. The concept of a slave revolt had worried his father greatly but this was the first time since the days of Ross McKay an actual revolt had happened.

'Yes, Vance. It'll be handled. Go on, sod off. I've got the Chief coming in a few minutes' he pressed a button on his desk and Vance's face disappeared to be replaced with a map of the safezone marked with the various Timbeross business ventures, a slowly revolving picture of the planet and a large map of the jungle just outside the safezone. The map of the jungle was also marked with the Timbeross business ventures, all starting two miles into the jungle. Most of Timbeross was concentrated in the safezone but the jungle logging was a little project Joseph himself had thought up. The idea was to cut a large, horse-shoe chunk out of the jungle and begin mass planting Oak and Mahogany and perhaps gain a few native 'workers' in the process. There was also rumour of great Tkria temples, chock full of gold and valuables deep in the jungle. The idea fascinated Joseph and he had already begun sending out mercenary scout teams deeper into the jungle. While he examined the map of the jungle with stars in his eyes, he didn't notice Clara step up behind him.

'Chief Toonak of the Junker Confederacy is on the lift approaching the floor, sir' she said, his voice jarring him. 'Yes, yes, yes. Sorry, lost in thought a minute there, Clara' replied the CEO with one of his dashing smiles. Clara looked unimpressed, as usual, but led her boss out the door anyway. At the end of the hall, the lift doors opened and out stepped Chief Toonak. The Batman was the oldest Tkria Joseph had ever seen and his back had worsened with age. He clutched a large stick for support and only wore a loincloth to cover his shame. His ears were weaved with decorative leaves and beads. A small, wispy beard poked out of his chin, not long enough to touch his ragged grey fur. On either side he was flanked by younger looking tribal warriors who clutched long spears tipped by sharpened stone. Like the chief, they wore simple loincloths but nothing else. Behind them, a smaller, better dressed Batman followed behind, whispering carefully into the Chiefs ear. The translator wore long robes and a small hat was perched on his head. This fellow had been ordered in by Joseph as the Chief spoke no English.

The translator rushed ahead of the Chief, almost tripping over his long robes to approach Joseph. 'CEO Joseph McKay, Chief Toonak has been very looking forward to meeting you. My name Yera and I shall be the translator for the duration of the meeting. I speak fluent English, Hindi, Spanish and the five of the main dialects spoken by tribes outside the Safe Zone' said the small Batman. His voice was reedy and Joseph could already tell Yera was going to annoy him. Nevertheless, he stepped forward and warmly shook the translators hand. The Chief had approached and as a form of greeting, Joseph held out his hand. The Chief looked taken aback and his bodyguards looked ready to pounce at this alien gesture. The translator jumped forward and frantically whispered in the Chiefs ear. The chief listened for a moment and then nodded. He clutched the CEO's hand weakly and shook it. The bodyguards relaxed slightly but still suspiciously watched the CEO.

'Chief Toonak, I trust your journey was well?' smiled Joseph, opening his door and waving him in. Clara took her seat behind her desk and gave Joseph an encouraging smile. He nodded. 'My journey was uncomfortable and long. Your human metal birds are not comfortable' came Toonak's reply through the translator. Grumpy bastard, thought Joseph with a smile plastered to his face. Toonak made a noise to his bodyguards, who each took a place on either side of the door. The door shut behind him and native and human took their respective seats across from each other.

'Well, Chief Toonak, let's get to business' grinned Joseph, rubbing his hands together. He tapped a few buttons on the holo-computer and a large map of Safe Zone appeared on the hologram screen. 'These are several satellite photo's we 'found' of the surrounding area. We had several of our surveyors roughly map out the Junker Confederacy, which is the blue square'. The Chief squinted at the holographic map and nodded slowly. Joseph pressed another button and a red line cut halfway through the Junker land.



Joseph pressed another button and a red line cut halfway through the Junker land. Toonak bared his teeth slightly, angered. 'This red line represents the area that Timbeross has begun cutting. One the horse-shoe shape has been cut, we shall begin cutting in land until that large area of the jungle is gone and the region will be incorporated into the Human Safe Zone. You can obviously see the problem here. While we at Timbeross hate to cut into Tkria traditional lands, we're afraid we have little choice. Much of humanity lives in squalor or in overcrowded apartment buildings. Several deals are being negotiated with local governments as we speak to clear this land for further human habitation'. That was a lie. Joseph had not yet begun negotiations with anyone, as technically, Timbeross had no loggers in the jungle yet. The ones that were there were simply gauging the area and testing the waters.

The Chief listened to his translator and then, stared at Joseph for a long time. Finally, he spoke. 'We cannot stand for this. We cannot allow our lands to be violated and destroyed by aliens. We have lived here for generations, we have respected the jungle'. Shit. Better pull out the my next set of cards. 'Chief Toonak, you misunderstand. Your tribes will not be pushed from their lands at all. The Junker Confederacy shall be allowed to stay or leave as they wish. The reason you have been called in here today is to negotiate the terms of which. If the Confederacy wishes to stay, they will be offered homes, jobs and safety within the safe zone and sponsored by Timbeross themselves. If the Junker Confederacy wishes to leave, they can leave to the jungles and never have to worry about humans again. This shall be one of the last pushes into your lands and I promise you that'. Another lie. 'However, no matter your decision, Timbeross shall be chopping down the allocated area. I wish for it not to turn to bloodshed but if you force our hand, it will'.

The Chief snarled as he heard that. ' You are threatening us? Never. When will it end for you humans? When you have depleted this planet of it's resources? When you have wiped out it's inhabitants? I do not care for your money, your homes or your jobs. We are comfortable with our lives. We do not want change. On behalf of the Junker Confederacy, I say we will resist your attempts to enroach on our land. We will kill your loggers, break your metal birds, smash your metal monsters and raid your settlements. This can be avoided by simply not attacking our land and spreading like the horrible diseases you are. And you!' The Chief was suddenly pointing at the Translator, who continued the translations as the Chief ranted. 'You are a betrayal to our species! You live with these humans as they slowly infect our homes, steal our resources and kill our people! Where is your respect for your own race, child?'. The Translator sounded almost scared as he stared at his feet and translated the outburst.

The Chief jumped off his chair. 'Negotiations are over. We will not be moved from our traditional lands and we will resist your attempts to take it. When your species first came to our planet, we had hoped for peace. But you force our hand. If your metal monsters attack our anscestral homes, we will take up arms against your species. I am heading home to inform my people of our decision and I would hope you honour our wishes'. The old Chief gained a new vigour as he kicked open the door and barked at his bodyguards. Joseph watched calmly as the translator ran after the chief and began speaking in rapid Tkria. The door slowly swung shut and closed with a click. He tapped his holo-computer and a hologram of Vance's face appeared on the screen. 'How'd it go?' asked the chief advisor. 'He left the room kicking and screaming about destroying our machines' sighed Joseph, sounding disappointed. 'I expected that would happen, if I'm honest. What do you want to do now?' asked Vance.

'Toonak is going home on one of our shuttles. Make sure it doesn't cross the Safe Zone border. I want Toonak in chains'.

Space, ~9 AU From Brahma

"You wear that pistol all the time?" Eury asked, glancing at the silver faux-leather holster that hung at Laz's side. "I thought you were off duty today."

It was true that, on a mission like this one, he wasn't required to go armed when he was not working. In fact, they were encouraged not to. There was more risk in off-duty guards drinking while armed and starting fights than there was a chance of one needing a weapon for professional reasons on their time off. He had gotten bad looks from the Cantina guard when he walked in, and the barmaster had been eying him suspiciously ever since. He could feel their glances itching at the back of his neck from time to time, and we he glanced back he thought he saw them turning their heads away quickly. It did not matter. They could think what they wanted to.

"It's my grandfather's." Laz said. "He gave it to me as a memento. I try to wear it as much as I can." He rubbed the grip of the weapon, feeling the hand-worn steel beneath his fingers. He wanted to try shooting with it, but sonic weapons weren't for target shooting. In a sense, they were more similar to musical instruments than they were ballistic weapons. When not properly calibrated, they could react unpredictably. Too soft, or too lose, and you had a trumpet with a trigger. Too tight and it wouldn't affect a large enough area to do any real damage. His grandfather had taught him how to keep it tuned, and he had warned that unnecessary use would require him to retune it all over again.

"So... do you wear it to, like, bed?" she shyly asked. She made it painfully obvious that she was trying to flirt with him, and it made her all the more cuter.

He chuckled. "No." he said, "That would be ridiculous." Looking into her eyes, he saw that she was falling for him.

"//Do you require an alcoholic beverage//" A buzzing electronic voice interrupted.

The servebot was a child-sized white-plated cylinder on treads. In place of a head, it had a circular silver tray that was nearly level with the height of the table, and single red eye staring up from the center of its chest. It waited patiently as it was programmed to do, its eye switching focus from him to her, and than from her back to him, in a way that would have conveyed nervousness in humans.. Thy way it stood there gave Laz the same feeling of being rushed that he would have gotten if it were a human waiting beside them. It was a strange feeling to get, the urge to avoid hindering what looked like a garbage bin on wheels.

"Water." Eury answered. "//Water//" the servebot replied mechanically.

"Spiked lemonade." Laz said.

The servebot paused for a moment, staying completely still. Its innards buzzed, as if the wheels of its mind were audibly turning. When it spoke, its voice sounded more authoritative, though it was stll the same electronic hum.

"//The Myers Ruling requires me to inform you that alcoholic drink impairs human thought and response time. Do no partake in alcoholic drink under the following circumstances. When: Going on duty as an employee of the state. When: Operating heavy equipment, vehicles, or spacecraft. When: Programming a bot who either handles or acts as the equivalent to heavy equipment, vehicles, or spacecraft. When: Programming a bot that operates as an equivalent to an employee of the state. When: Handling weaponry. When: In the vicinity of dangerous chemicals, radiation, or active combustion. When...//"

The robot continued, but Laz had heard the Myers warning before. He looked out through the glass wall that opened the pallidly lit beige panels and stoic black floors of the cantina to the panorama of space. Millions of stars peppered the black. In some places they were thin, each star an island plunged in a sea of infinite shadow. In other places they clustered, and their glow lit the space around them so that they looked as if they were set in a purple haze. The coppery expanse of a solar sail split the view of space in half, and the floodlighting on its edges making it the brightest thing in view. There was a certain aesthetic to the sails. Though they only supplied a fraction of the vessel's power, they were one of the most noticeable things about it. They encircled the cylindrical spaceship like two pinwheels, fanning out in all directions.

"I bet you can name them all." Laz teased, looking out at the stars. Behind them, the servebot rolled away.

"I never could." she said. "If you give me a map, maybe..."

Laz grinned. "I could name them all if you gave me a map. That's cheating."

"No." she teased. "You don't know what you are looking for."

"It can't be that hard." he replied. "They are all named after the same old Germans. I bet I could close by eyes and start naming them and get at least one right."

She laughed. "I'd like to see that."

He covered his eyes and, making a show of dragging his arm across the starscape in front of them, he settled on one spot and pointed. "That is Berliner 12. They named all the planets after Germans. A race of tiny bloodsucking bugs live on Bismark." He could hear Eury snorting with laughter. He grinned and continued, pointing blindly somewhere at the stars that he could not see. "That is Heiney 12-65b"

"B?" Eury interjected, "That mean it's another star in the same system."

"In the same system?" Laz said. "See, I told you I was good at this."

"Wait." he heard Eury say, her tone no longer playful. He opened his eyes. His vision was blurred from the game, but as the stars came into focus he saw it. A star, moving quickly against the rest.

"An asteroid?" he asked.

"No." she said. "That's a spaceship."

Laz chuckled. "Imagine that. Near infinite of miles of space and we somehow run into another vessel. Like finding a needle in the clouds of Indra."

"It's not too surprising, actually." Eury replied. "Most vessels travel roughly the same routes. There always is a quickest way to get to somewhere."

"Even with the planets moving along their orbits constantly?" he asked. "I would assume the routes have to change."

"The adjustments still bring them pretty close." Eury responded. "On the day-to-day, at least"

They had came near to other vessels earlier in their voyage. It had happened several times when they first embarked, when they were in the relatively busy portion of space near Brahma. Laz could imagine what was going on in the bridge now from his experiences then. They would orient their communications array toward the other vessel in order to direct a message. It was a slow process. There were few things that the IU cared about, and one of them was the regulation of communication. When it was posited that the Listeners followed communication signals in order hunt human civilization, the IU responded by restructuring the way humanity talked to itself. There were very few changes to how people communicated on-planet, but messages between planets, or in space, were heavily regulated. The most common form was pin-pointed, directly aimed signals sent from a series of bowl-shaped disks on the craft itself. They had to be aimed at the target of the communication and calibrated so that they compensated for speed and motion of both vessels. It was tiresome, but it was one of the few laws that the IU cared about. If they found evidence of a vessel allowing signals to escape into general space, the punishment would be severe. For accidents, massive fines. For negligence or sloppiness, it was decades in prison for those deemed responsible by the courts. Both cases often saw a persons license to buy, captain, or participate in the operation of a space vessel taken away for good..

The mysterious ship was heading in their direction. Laz could see the light reflecting off their sails, and it obscured the vessel's shape. It looked like a growing ball of light, as if one of the stars had decided to leap out at them from their perch.

"I wonder what their mission is." Laz said.

"Let's make a game." Eury piped, "I think it is... a supply vessel on its way to supply one of the moons of Indra."

Laz frowned. "That's boring." he said. The vessel was close enough that he could make out a few basic details. "It's a small ship..." he said, "A cruiser. Looks old. Possibly... two generations old? Could be a model that predates the destruction of Earth... It is a ghost ship, lost during the war with the Listeners. It arrived in this system but lost life support before it reached Brahma. Now the animated corpses of its old crew haunt its bridge, still tracing its steps through the system hoping to find the planet is came so far for."

"Ooh." Eury chirped, "I like that. It looks creepy now." The mysterious vessel had pulled up near to the Aro, close enough that Laz could study it in detail. It did look ghoulish, the sun washing its grey fuselage in a glaring white glow, so much so that, much like a planet, it seemed to give off its own light . There were no markings, suggesting a privately owned craft. On the top, a communications array had been haphazardly attached to its old body. That was no surprise. IU regulation Comm arrays were unheard of on pre-destruction vessels. Laz had been right - it was a really old vessel.

"I know." Eury said, "Once they arrive on Brahma, after all this time, their skeletons will disembark and wander the streets of Nai Kolkatta, looking for their friends and family."

"Spooky." Laz pretended to shiver. "And if they find their family?"

"They will..." she was cut off by the sudden squelching of ship-wide alarms. Laz's heart dropped. In a single moment, everything changed. Lights began to flash, from red to blue to green. He heard the door swash open, and the cantina guard dash into the halls.

Shuttles began to dispatch from the belly of the mysterious ship. There were dozens, taking to space like mosquitoes departing one host for another. A directed particle beam lit up from the side of the vessel and struck the Aro, causing the entire ship to shudder. Eury screamed. Laz stood, stunned and unable to move. The IU had no enemies, not in the traditional sense. An attack on an IU ship was unheard of. That it was happening only confused, and terrified, him. Only a moment ago it had been a friendly ghost. Now it was a horror.

Ugly steel plates abruptly snapped shut over the window toward space and blocked out the sight of their attackers. The sound of the plates slamming together caused Eury to squeal with fear. Now only the alarm lights lit the room, pulsing and changing hue as the alarm bells rang.

"What do we do?!" Eury begged. "What do I do?1"

"Go to your room." Laz said. He rubbed the grip of his grandfather's pistol. "I have to do something."

They parted ways.

Laz watched as Eury ran, the barmaster following her into the core of the ship. They would be safe there. There was no safer place in the ship, after all. The Aro shuddered again. Were any of them safe? It was all a blur.

"//Armed personnel report to the portside life-support maintenance corridor. All other passengers evacuate to the core of the vessel. This is not a drill.//" the intercom read out. It was echoed word for word by the harsh buzzing voices of the cantina's servebots, whose repetition of the warning filled the room with an eerie electric harmony. He could see their dead, red eyes glowing under the changing colors of the room's alarm-system lightning. They were extensions of the warning system now, and anything that had once resembled life in them was replaced with undead panic.

"//Armed personnel report to the second-level portside maintenance corridor. All other passengers retreat to the core of the vessel. This is not a drill.//" the intercom repeated, alongside the chorus of servebots. Laz unholstered his weapon, disengage its safety, and ran.

The halls were chaos. Every robot he passed echoed the intercom's message as it was repeated, in chirping voices and soothing ones, sing songy and monotone. More people were clamoring toward the core of the ship than were rushing to meet the threat. Did they have enough men to fight off these attackers? Who were they, anyhow? His mind spun through the possibilities, and it kept coming up with the same frightening conclusion. The Listeners.

They wouldn't be manning a human ship though, would they? Certainly not one with an updated communications array? His grandfather had always described the Listener vessels as 'Shards'. They had been, according to most people who had seen them, asymmetric and sharp, like a fleet build from the remnants of a broken black obsidian. Who else would attack an IU ship, though? Laz had never taken an interest in politics, but he had heard rumors. There where always whispers that one of the independent states of the Safe Zone wanted to supplant the IU. Was it the Coalition at Ephyra? The Martian monarchy in the west who's name Laz could not remember? He was angry at himself for not understanding. If he was suddenly a participant in some civil war, he wanted to know what it was about. Was this how wars started? Not in the clearcut context of history lessons, but in a mass of confused men and women coming to grips with something they did not understand?

The maintenance corridors were ugly and unattractive in comparison to the main halls. There were no lighted panels here. The naked walls were covered with wires and tubes crossing each other in a labyrinth of complex infrastructure. The floor was perforated steel, and he could hear the halls echoing with the desperate tap of a dozen bootfalls. A second sound began to echo as well - the discharge of weapons. It started with the sonic crack of railguns as the fighting started. And than it was shouting, and the clashing of metal. Laz had never been in a battle. His heart pounded and his limbs felt numb, but something drove him forward.

He fell in line with another guard. Before they turned a corner, the second man grabbed Laz by the collar and pulled him back. Dazed, Laz watched as the guard peered around the corner. He slowly held up six fingers. Laz understood, and nodded. The other guard pulled a small polished metal orb from his pocket. He kissed it, pulled a pin from its side, and tossed it underhand. Laz watched as it came alive and whizzed along the floor with a high pitched buzz. When it turned the corner, it didn't lose speed.

Laz heard the invaders shout before they were silenced by a muted explosion. It sounded like distant thunder, followed by a brief but violent outburst of metallic hail . The second guard peeked around again, motioned for Laz to follow, and then bolted into the hall.

There they were, the remains of those attackers who had wandered down the wrong hall. There were six of them, and they were human. Beneath the gore left by the other man's grenade, the attackers were dressed in black space-suits. There was no uniform, and the suits differed from corpse to corpse. On their heads, each man wore a mask that obscured their entire face. Each mask had on it an image that, smeared with homemade paint, looked monstrous. Laz could not make out what any of them were supposed to be. They were hideous, like the visages of ancient demons. Claws and bones, horns and sharpened teeth, every exaggerated detail sprang up from places in in their faces where they should not have been. They were unnatural, sick, and... alien. Even though the wearers had definitely been human, there was something clearly Brahman about the images they had painted on their masks.

Shrapnel had torn their bodies. The flesh closest to the blast had been rendered into bloody strips of pink and red. Dark blood clung to the steel floor and flowed into the ducts below. Laz felt a lump rising into his throat, and he could taste the vomit as he walked over the disembodied arm of one of the men. It smelled of piss, and blood, and the horror death.

"Huh!" he heard a grunt in front of him. He watched as his comrade pulled a falchion from its sheath and prepared to defend himself from an attacker. The guard swung, but the foeman deflected him with his arm. As he delivered a quick exchange of spinning blows, Laz saw the shark-fin steel blade strapped to the raider's arms. Laz pulled a knife from his belt, but he was too late. The raider opened his comrade's neck with the sharpened edge of his fore-arm blade. He turned to Laz next, blood dripping from the razor-sharp edge of the enemy's weapon while the fallen guard gurgled and drowned in his own blood. Laz dropped the knife and, instinctively, raised his grandfather's sonic pistol.

He pulled the trigger.

There was no kick back. The weapon didn't seem to move at all. The sound it made was like the blast of a ballistic bomb so far away that his ears couldn't make sense of it. What it had done, however, was clear, and it was devastating.

Black-red blood gushed from his enemy's eyes , which had been rendered pulpy pink pits by the sonic force of the weapon. The same liquid, mixed with cloudy hunks of flesh, dripped from his ears and nose. The body had been tossed back, his motion as boneless as an eel. Laz nearly doubled over, each breath exploding within him as if his lungs were trying to escape him. He had seen violence. He had seen death. He had never, however, seen them in this way.

He soon began to realize that his hyperventilating was not simply panic. It was something else. His lungs grasped for air, but they could not find it. Every breath was poison. His head spun. He looked at the mask of the man he had just annihilated, and for the first time he noticed a feature he had missed before, and it brought him more fear than the evil faces.

A respirator.

Kangchai, Silver Pagoda

The doors slid open with the wet relaxed glide that was afforded to them, letting out the director's chambers. One by one the director's, the officers of Kangchai walked out into the warmly lit hallway, attended to by the regiment of identical, young servants. Their faces pale and flat they followed suit or moved alongside their masters as they traded hushed words between each other. Less of a means of keeping secrets, and more a practice of culture. The Silver Pagoda was a naturally quiet building. In its mirror and white halls it was warm and silent. It seemed to take everyone in awe.

It was only compounded by the keepers of the building, who held all words and made none. Deaf, dumb, and ignorant to all truths. And all lies.

The last to leave to were Mobuntui Hou and Cai Mi. They walked side by side as their silent guardians kept to their sides, ready to receive whichever order they were to receive.

“I must say by far it's one of the best thought out proposals I have heard.” Hou said with a polite nod, “But I'm still concerned with the complexity of it. Who yourself even bring up the doubt over the number of factors.

“Remember, we deal in absolutes here.” he added.

“I only have doubts through lack of information.” Mi smiled. He walked alongside the Executive Officer with his arms wrapped behind his back. He moved with his head down, watching the shiny mirror floor pass underneath him. It wasn't a perfect image, being walked on and deformed the surface in uncountable places, and scuffs remained in the steel. All the same, he could see himself stair back from a blurry painting, framed in white lines and sun rays. “You would say that's a legitimate excuse, wouldn't you?

“And besides, if the plan was absolute to the letter what's not to say it can be adapted? Being absolute about your intentions may work well in the business world where our computers can run all the probable economic outcomes and calculate the next best course. But for all they can do they can't calculate human intention, or Tkrai.”

“That is true.” Mobuntui laughed, “A computer can help cure us of Alzheimers and congenital, cognitive defects. But it can't calculate whether or not I want catfish stir fry or Rominfi Sky Deer cooked in a mango sauce.”

“Your honor, don't make me hungry, I haven't had that great a breakfast.” he laughed heartily.

“Then you should look into eating more.” Mobuntui Hou sighed, “Morning is the best time of day, when the sun is at its warmest glow, the taste of fresh juice from the dispenser is at its sweetest.”

“That's another thing computers can do.” Ci sighed, “Prepare us our meals and leave us looking ahead.”

“I can't imagine living in the barbarism that was the 2000's.” Hou snorted, “And to think the IU fleet still functions in some ways like that.

“I hear they still have Barmen. They are centuries behind, between you and me.”

“Well they are our line between us and the Listener. I don't imagine they got the time to think about how to refine themselves with automation. Got to give some of them something to do.”

“I guess that is a point.” Hou conceded.

“I assume on the matter at hand we will need to adapt to the situation.” the Executive Officer said, roaming back to the original topic, if disgruntled, “Would you be open to a private meeting then to go over the terms before I give the formal order? We'll also need to reconvene the Director's again once the final word is had. This sort of thing is shared jurisdiction, the diplomacy elements.

“I can call the Tkrai operations myself easily enough. But I'll treat this as a joint venture. So we'll go over candidates to lead that.”

“We'll also need to reach out to the Tkrai hippies for a guide. With hold information of course.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Hou grumbled dissatsified, “They will help, for as far as they can. They won't like it one way or the other. But they got no real power.”

“If you wouldn't mind, I could speak with the local chapter myself.” Ci offered, stopping in the middle of the hall. They had turned several corners and were not firmly on the outside face of the Pagoda. Deeper in the lighting was more sterile. And the desire for mirrored services had waned. What was there now were soft marbled surfaces. White walls, trimmed with forested greens and deep crimson reds.

“That would be appreciated.” Hou beamed, “And I appreciate your enthusiasm on this. With energy like that, we can do a lot more. It's a breath of fresh air.” he complimented.

“Oh... Oh thank you, your honor.” Ci bowed energetically.

“18:00 then, my estate?” Hou asked.

“I'll be there.” Ci nodded.

“Excellent.” Hou cheered, turning away, “I shall see you shortly. Bring developments.” he laughed, walking off. His foot steps echoed down the barren white, red, and green hallway. Following around him the handful of silent servants. And again, Ci was alone.

Ci turned his way to leave. Listening to the absolute perfect nothing that rules the halls. Only the sound of his feet echoed sharply on the laminated, stone walls. But, there was something off about the echo he observed as he walked. A misstep. An off rhythm.

Puzzled, the director turned to meet the source of this off beat. Only to hand a cold embrace fall onto his shoulder, shuddering him to a shocked hault. “Funny, how things work.” a cold voice said into his eye as he was held back. Ci turned his head around to find himself looking into the face of his shadow. Hou Tsieng. He pitted wrinkled face all the more scarred as he stared frowning into his. He was close enough he could smell the metallic sour breath as it rolled off his tongue.

“Mr. Hou.” Ci said restrained. His heat beat fast in him. Whether it was still an effect of being snuck up on, or having someone so close to him. He could quiet tell, not yet. “What do you want?” he said, nervously. His cold exterior was something in itself to be worried about. He his many stories behind those implants and prosthesis, and the wrinkles, and lines, and liver-spots.

“To just say, don't get to ambitious. Yes, comrade?” he said, releasing his hand.

“Ambitious?” Ci said shocked, “What do you mean?”

“Ambition.” Tsieng nodded, “I wouldn't get too much of it. It can be dangerous.

“It once got a man thrown off the edge, I do believe.”

“I don't think I understand.” Ci protested. Tsieng stood unflinching as he wrapped his hands in front of him. He scowled, from eyes to lips as he scanned his contemporary up.

“Ambition has gotten a lot of good people killed, Mr. Cao.” Tsieng warned in a grueling, aggressive tone, “Others, themselves....” he said trailing off, “It got a planet destroyed once too. I don't fancy that, Cao.”

“Look, I don't think I understand.” Tsieng said, raising his tone of voice, “What the Hell is going on?”

“I think you're capable of figuring that one out.” Hou bowed, walking away. His feet squeaked on the polished floor as he turned his back on Cao. Raising a hand to wave good bye he parted. “See you next meeting.” he said dryly.

Consciousness returned to Laz like an explosion starting from his neck. He felt liquid fire underneath his skin, as if his blood had been replaced with sulfuric acid. His ears rang with a high pitch like two needles searing into his eardrums. He gasped, his entire body rebelling. When he opened his eyes, he was blinded by raw sunlight. He snapped them shut again and focused on each limb, starting with his fingers and toes. Pain became the pin-pricks of exsanguinated numbness. Slowly, cell by cell, he felt the torturous insurgency in his flesh retreat. It left him dazed and stupid. With his nerves returned to him, he was slow to understand what story they were telling.

The sun. The air. He know the feeling of the atmosphere, of this atmosphere, and how it filtered sunlight. This was Brahma. He was close to home, though he had no notion of where exactly on Brahma he was. He could feel metal rubbing raw against his wrists. He could hear moans, whimpers, and gasps. He could also hear talking. His ears still throbbed soar from his return, and he could not make out the words. They were casual, but harsh. He opened his eyes again.

Kneeling in the dirt, he was surrounded by others like him. They had been stripped of their clothing and redressed in simple woven shifts. He could remember the battle in space. The blood, the chaos and the cacophony. The gas. After that, he couldn't remember anything.

A man went from prisoner to prisoner, sticking their necks with the same over-sized syringe. Once jabbed, the prisoners awoke from their death-like comas. Their waker was an underfed skeleton of a man. The outline of his skull poked from beneath his skin. His hair grew lopsided on the top of his head, more like a fuzzy plant than a human mane. He wore oil-blackened leather with the geometric, scaly patterns of Brahman wildlife. Over that was a crimson sash bearing the image of a skull with bloodshot eyes and a bleeding heart placed between its teeth. He went about his business silently, paying no attention to the rest of his party.

His confederates were dressed differently. Some shared the same brooding flamboyance, but many others wore street clothes, or unhooded spacesuits, or tattered mockeries of the armor uniform of several of the powerful Brahman factions. These were pirates, Laz reasoned. Pirate attacks were common enough, but a pirate attack on IU ships were unheard of. And the reasoning behind attacking a supply ship on its return journey was something Laz couldn't work out. He stayed quiet and observed. The only other choice was to panic.

Laz had flown across the safe zone many of times. He knew it for its expansive plains, its flat patches of bubbling alien jungles, and the marshes that hid ancient predators waiting to pounce. This was not the safe zone. A vertical wall of mountains dominated the background. They were characteristically Brahman, with swollen, porous cliffsides melting into dagger-like sharkteeth or winding columns of volcanic rock. All around them, the choking thick jungle of Brahma's native foliage closed in. There were the fungal webs, and puffs that seemed to breath. Outstretched vines and slick ground-mold filled in the gaps. In some places, Brahma's "Trees" stood proud above the rest of the flora like the mountains behind them. Some species of Brahman tree fit the biological definition of the word, but botanists did not like calling them by the name. To them, trees were of Earth. There was more variation of the woody species here. Some of them, like the aspens of old Earth, were single systems spread across a long-reaching root network that sprouted hundreds of stocks. In others, these colonial stocks grew separately, but came together like columns to form trunks as thick as mountains. Their woods varied as well. Some were as tough as stone, while others where soft and weak like sponges.

There were amongst the pirates a number of Tkrai. They were not whipped, and did they cower in the shadow of the humans. They wore no human clothing, only the vests and headdresses of their own fashion. If this was outside of the safezone, than this was their country. Only a few of them stood on the ground. Most of them stayed in the trees, or along a rocky outcrop at the edge of the forest.

Something big happened in the distance. Laz could not make out what, but it shook the ground. It felt like an artillery strike without an explosion, or like an earthquake targeting something near the horizon. The pirates and their Tkrai companions noticed, but they hardly reacted. They continued to chat as idly as if this were a safe-zone hike.

Another pirate approached them, dragging a foliage-green plastic chest. The ground shook again.

"Hurry up." a tall man with ragged hair shouted from the crowd. "We've been chummin' for a week. Don't lose it."

In front of them was a small pile of unearthed dirt. It was freshly dug, and it was wet. Laz couldn't put the pieces together. He rubbed his wrists against his metallic binds. They were solid, and they were tight.

"Friends!" another pirate began to speak. Laz watched the skinny man walk away, wiping the tip of the syringe against his pants. In place of him, this new man was much bigger. He wore a thick, navy blue great coat with the metallic two-headed eagle patch of the Putinate - a centuries dead Earth empire. Under that, he wore simple street clothes. Swords, knives, and hand-guns dangled from holsters across his body.

"We will release you soon. Do not run, new friends. There are Tkrai in trees who are ready to kill anybody that tries to. If they don't get you, Brahma will." He looked down at them, a stern smile nestled beneath his wiry red beard. Somewhere nearby, the earth shook. "But do not worry, we will give you a chance to walk free! You must only complete one trial." He held up one thick sausage finger and showed it to them as if he was about to do a trick. "Brahma will try you."

Another man passed behind them, undoing their binds. Laz rubbed his wrist and watched anxiously, expecting somebody to run. Nobody did. The pirate with the chest opened it and pulled out several long chains tipped with spear-sharp hooks.

"The Tkrai are masters of the bloodsport." the red-haired pirate spoke, "And they know a beast called the Tih-Tukrut. Its flesh feeds them, its body's oil burns in their lamps, its ivory is used in their weapons, their tools, and their ornaments." There was another shaking, fireless explosion. Laz heard dirt raining down in the forest. He felt his heart beating in his chest. A monster? Brahma's wildlife breed some horrifying monsters. They were things that kept the land wild. They had prevented the Tkrai from creating expansive empires like man had on earth, and they had prevented Humanity, with all its technology, from thriving beyond the safe zone.

The pounding earth startled the charismatic pirate. They began to pass out the chain-hooks, handing each prisoner his own. Laz felt the weight in his hand, and wanted nothing more but to swing it at their captors and start a riot. The pirates were armed with real weapons, however. And there was something else coming. Laz squeezed the steel in his palm and watched as another set of weapons was pulled from the chest.

The shark-fin knifes sent Laz's mind tumbling back into memories of the battle in space. The pirates hurried, strapping the sharpened blades to the prisoner's shins. Even with sharpened steel on their legs, the prisoners did nothing. One swift kick and they could have ended a life. Instead they stood frozen, watching the wilderness in front of them. The ground began to shake. The pirates finished their work and scattered into the treeline. Time moved slowly. Laz felt as if he were watching this all from behind a lens. It was hard to accept that he was here. Dirt began to bubble up from the ground. Laz backed up, preparing to run at any moment. He watched as two of his comrades ran into the forest only to be slain from the trees. It gave him a sudden resolved. Whatever this was, he would stand his ground.

The ground shook violently. His teeth chattered. The front of his pants became warm, than wet. All at once, hell burst from the ground.

The creature roared out from the ground like a spout. It was a blur of brown and black. Dirt dripped from it like water. It's cry was overwhelmingly loud and cackle-like. It extended out from the ground, its intestine-like skin plated along the back. Small, clawed arms covered its belly like that of a centipede. Its mouth was an all-consuming black hole, with ivory claws pointing out from it like dagger-shovels. Laz fell back. He felt the shark fin razor-blade cut into his thigh, opening it and freeing a trickle of blood to stream down his leg. This wasn't a battle. It was sacrifice.

Two fearless Tkrai swung from the trees and landed on the beast. Their every limb had shark-fin blades strapped to them. Their blades were stone-black, and they glittered like gems when they caught the light. In their hands were rope-hooks, and the hooks were made of the same volcanic rock that their blades were.

With skin blackened by ink the color of jet and eggplant, they landed on the backs of the mole-worm that was the "Tih-Tukrut". They caught themselves with their blades, digging into the serpent and slicing it like a sausage. Blood and bile spat from its wounds.

"You bloody cowards!" Laz heard a distant shout from the forest. "If you don't fight, we'll kill ya!" A fireball exploded behind them, delivered by some hidden weapon.

The mole-worm belly flopped, smashing the ground and sinking into it as if the soil was loose quick-sand. Dirt jetted from its back-end. The Tkrai chittered, swung their rope-hooks, and caught a tree branch. They waited. Laz worried. Had they missed lost their chance to live? He remembered all the things he missed. His family. His women. The Hyperelectro clubs in the Uttar Pradesh district. He tried to recall the taste of the mongrel food they sold in stands and dive-shops in Khurama Jila, its bachelor mix of unnatural replicator feed and handmade dressings and sauces. Pork cylinder's under Pomegranate-Curry sauce, Cheese-splatters made into a soup with hand-ground spices, Beef paste mixed into a somewhat convincing Texan chili, he thought about them but all he could taste was blood and bile.

The ground shook. Was the monster returning? Another fireball exploded behind their backs. Laz decided he would live. He hefted his hook-chain and held his breath.

The Tih-Tukrut burst from the ground, clods of dirt fleeing from it. Purple blood bubbled and seethed in the mud that now caked its wounds. Laz sprung toward it. He felt his thigh sting, and felt the air bite at the edge of the wound. Paying it little mind, he swung the hook above his head like a lasso. It was just like the mountain climbing hook-chains he had been trained to use in IU service. Only this time, the mountain was moving.

He swung and caught it on armor plating. Thrusting from the earth, the monster's momentum tossed Laz toward it. He watched from the corner of his eye as another prisoner wrapped the chain around his arm and prepared to throw. Laz hit the Tih-Tukrut with a thud. It knocked the air out of him. He could feel its flesh wriggling beneath the stone-like plate of its back armor. He held onto a knob in the plate and swung his left shin over to its naked flesh. A quick kick backward and it was cut. Purple blood stained his blade. Below him, he watched as the second prisoner swung the hook and caught the animal's plate. Others tried, some less successfully. Above them all, the Tkrai warriors chanted as they caught the Tih-Tukrut's back. They took to this work naturally. This was their sport.

Laz stabbed his second shin-blade into the creature. Carefully holding onto the chain, he let himself fall. Two cuts of flesh fell perfectly behind him. Without warning, the earth below him shifted and he was looking down at the sky. Laz held on to the chain for all his life as he tried to reorient himself. He was swinging like a pendulum, and fountains of dirt were coming at him. When he saw the ground beneath him again, he realized that it was rushing at him.

He jumped and hit the ground rolling. His arm scraped against a growth of woody peg-like grass. Before he could think to stand, something heavy wooshed over his head. His chain wrapped itself around the trunk of a coral growth. His bones ached. Pushing himself up, he struggled to look behind.

The creature had disappeared into the ground again. A prisoner had fallen to his knees, screaming and holding onto the bloody crater in his shoulder where his arm had once been. He was not the only casualty. They were not the same number they had been when the pirates woke them up. Gritting his teeth, Laz reclaimed his chain and prepared for another round.

In the trees above, the Tkrai chanted. It was in the harsh, trachean tones of their native language. The ground screamed beneath. Laz held on for all life.

Through a rain of dirt clods and bloodied mud, the monster stormed out of the ground. In places, its flesh was bloodied, purpled strips. Its scream was weakened. On its head, Laz saw the gory pulp remains of a prisoner who's hook-chain had twisted around him and bound him to the Tih-Tukrut.

The prisoners charged, the Tkrai swinging through the air above them. They hit the creature like a pack of insects bringing down a dying dragon. Laz swung high and caught its back. The Tih-Tukrut shifted away, and its pull lifted him up to its side. Laz went to work quickly, kicking at its flesh until he created a seeping purple hole. Above him, the Tkrai were slicing open the monster's eyes. It was howling in pain, and Laz could feel each desperate shriek shuttering under the flesh of the beast. He climbed up, high enough that he could straddle its back. He took a length of chain in his hands and created a tight coil. Holding it in his hands, he began to bash. Its stone-like back plates gave way in small chips. Surely, Laz reasoned, what lay beneath was vital. He felt the creature turn and prepare to go back into the dirt. He had to do this quickly. Like iron striking iron, he worked. Sparks flew up with every other hit. In front of him, he watched as the Tkrai disappeared under the creatures head.

The Tih-Tukrut let out another cry. This one was long and sad, like a eulogy for its self being delivered to the wild. Laz felt the life go out of it. The tense flesh beneath him loosened, the shakes and shivers of its body melted away, and it fell like a stone. He held on tight as it landed flat against the ground beneath it.

Every muscle in Laz's body ached, but he was alive. He climbed down slowly, minding the painful sting of he thigh wound. A pool of purple blood soaked the unearthed dirt beneath the Tih-Tukrut's body and created a stinking mud.

Its neck had been slit so cleanly that a glob of wet, purple viscera had fell out of the wound. Rows of eyes along its neck had went cloudy in death, and some had been popped in the violence. The Tkrai warriors were peeling the smashed body of the prisoner that had became tangled to its neck. To Laz, his body was the most sickening part of the scene. Utterly crushed, bits of bone stuck out. His lower jaw had folded over the rest of his face, and there was more signs of flesh than there was of skin.

The ring of a ballistic shot rang out and broke the silence. Laz looked behind himself to see a prisoner fall to the ground dead from a shot to the temple. In the hand of the red-beared pirate, a smoking gun.

"He didn't try." the pirate said. "The rest of you did. On your feet, we have a job for you."

Laz wondered that they did not take away their weapons.

Kangchai

The streets were lit from above. Broken holes in the clay and granite of the roof above let down bright columns of sunlight to the street below. Green twisting and turning vines fell through with the light, casting their long hands to the city below. At their edges clumps of down-ward facing flowers hung expectantly like anxious hands waiting for something to be passed up. It was inevitable some insect from the multitudes of vendors below might fly up into the rosy pink mouth of the Brahma flora.

Below, the streets were really not much of a street in the sense Nai Kolkota had wide, spread out paved avenues, where vehicles levitated or drove across the inky black paths that cut through the city like canals. The streets of Kangchai, especially in the upper levels were more like glorified walking paths and pedestrian road-ways. All vehicle traffic relegated to the mile-wide mouth of the city's sinkhole had left the twisting and broken channels of the hole's face free from vehicular traffic and where the thousands of city inhabitants walked. On either side, store-fronts and apartment faces stood carved in natural stone or built along the interior edge from brick and steel and mortar. The warm sunlight flowed freely like water down the cavernous passage, reflecting off the aluminum shudders or sides of the buildings and the mid-street decorations.

Tucked high into the corners softly glowing lights helped along the natural sunlight and magnifying its brilliant incandescent warmth. It made as though the suburb was in the clear air, and not really a winding cave with flirtatious views of the empty cavernous pit that the city circled around.

Cai Mi probably didn't need to be so well attended here as he walked through the middle of the street. At his walked two silent armed guards, though their weapons were holstered and they walked just as comfortably and casually as their master. But this was Kangchai, and he was a director. There wasn't much an excuse for the city to allocate some protection for any of their leaders.

Many of this quarter knew Mi well enough by looks, but over his years his status wasn't as much celebrity as it was normal. He was important, he knew that and so did everyone else. He could tell how they looked to him, expectant, anxious, or politely warm. How much of it was a mask he couldn't tell. But the feelings were mutual either way. He had grown up here as much as they did.

He looked up into the smaller sinkholes that dotted the street's ceiling like irregular skylights. When it rained the light that came through would darken here and a stream of water would flow down in thick ribbons mixing with the spattering of the rain drops. Spattering to the stone below, a river would grow and well as the water rushed down the bricked gutter as the rain water was rushed to its ultimate conclusion: into the storm drains and then below under the city. When it rained the streets were still busy, but the gutter had to be bridged. This afternoon they had been pulled back and the gentle slopped gutter was as open as it could be.

There was a ringing in his ear. Raising his hand to it, it stopped, and a voice spoke up.

“Brother Mi,” a voice said, happy and joyous, “where are you now?”

“I'm on my way home, Jackie.” Mi said, smiling. Jackie was his younger brother. Shorter, skinnier, and probably in some ways dumber. If by misfortune he had come to the Director position, even Cai Mi knew he would be used to clean the floor. He was too much of a pushover person. But he was loyal. “What do you got?”

“Yea, that Tkrai woman.” Jackie said, “Yeah, I found her office.”

“And?” Mi asked.

“She'll meet you, I think.” he said uncertainly. He hesitated for a moment, stammering to try and collect what it was he had been told, “She something about if a director wanted to speak with her it better be in the Under Quarter. I think.”

“The Under Quarter, now why would she want me there?” he smiled, laughing. It was a dumb question and he knew it. He merely wanted Jackie to say it. But he knew of course the heart bleeder would want someone like himself to see the squalor the planet's natives lived in.

“I don't know.” Jackie said predictably, “But she'll be there.”

“Alright, where exactly then?” the director asked, as he stopped at a street vendor. Reaching for his pockets he continued, “Did you happen to know where?” he asked, pulling out a small, clear plastic card from his pocket.

“Pork bun.” he mouthed quietly to the patiently waiting vendor.

“Oh, pork bun.” the vendor cheered, subdoing his voice, “Father always said a man is not a whole man until he has a pork bun in hand!” he smiled, trading the small wrapped food stuff with the plastic card.

“I don't remember.” Jackie admitted, “But I'm sure the police will be able to tell you. They keep a check on this sort of thing. And a white-chick among batpeople shouldn't be hard to find.”

“You underestimate the ability to be a needle in a haystack is.” Ci joked as the vendor gave him his card back. Taking the wrapped bun in hand and credit chip back in pocket, he wandered off. “So you got a time-table at least?”

“It'll be a few hours I think.” Jackie said, “What time did you say you needed to be at Hou's?”

“18:00.” Ci responded.

“Then you got plenty of time!” Jackie laughed, “When do you want to get down, or do you want to wait until she's at the office?”

“Sooner the better. Can you send a cab to the house?”

“Will do.” Jackie said, “I'll put the calls in.”

“Thank you.” Ci said, opening the wrapping of his pork bun. The implant in his ear beeped softly as his brother disconnected.

“Looks like we're going into The Pit.” Ci said, turning to his guards. Beating the bun against his knuckle he shrugged and took a big bite. The two guards grumbled under their breaths at the thought of going down there.

***

The dull wobbling of the off-board motors throbbed subdued in the air-conditioned cabin as the carrier descended down through the sinkhole. Out the windows the scene of Kangchai shifted gradually. As they lowered deeper into the crater and the afternoon's light gave way to wall-cast shadows so did the city become darker. Densely packed residential sectors grew before their eyes, built out into the crater like the grip of an all-to-tight choke collar.

They were entering into the blue collar mid-town. Cai Mi looked out at the passing incandescent glow of windows and electrical street lights as the marching shadows brought on an early evening. Halcyon and electrical glows covered each available space. Bold working class establishments garishly advertised into and beyond the central space of Kangchai, proclaiming their services and purpose to the potential client base.

Shan Mi Liquor. Midtown Grocery. Macau Spin. Golden Lotus. The Congo Beat. Leopold's Tickler. Napoleon Inhaler.

All the same, despite the garish and brutal cheesiness of the names and advertisement lit up in several complimenting languages there was still a sense of pride and in order in the Mid Quarter. The men and women ferried upwards to the refineries and factories a mile outside of town to maintain the machines and robots that produced the city's output and to then partake in a mid-day round of sport in the cut fields that surrounded the city and their work. They had a brand of leisure that was none to different from the upper class that ruled Kangchai or owned those factories and refineries, Cai Mi just had more time to do all of it if he wanted; there was no shortage of Director past or present who spent much of his time playing golf above the rim of the crater.

What loomed below was darker and more threatening than the Midquarter. And the transport kept a course down in those darkened bowels.

Low Quarter was what would be described as the ghetto, if there was not worse below it. People lived here, often on a shoestring and a half. Either taking odd jobs in the quarters above them or living on subsidies purposed to simply keep money moving and the economy functioning the poorer and unfortunate heirs to the post-Earth refugees lived in signature darkness.

When not obscured by the gas giant, Brahma's sun maybe only reached into this area for roughly an hour. Artifical lighting was more normal than natural lighting. There was a murky wetness that clung to the walls and rusted the multitudes of zig-zagging pipes and structural supports that ran across the crater. Below, the muddy bottom of Kangchai crater was visible and the expansive pump complex that floated on its murky clay.

But here was not where Cai Mi was to rest. He had one more level to go. Flying down passed the hand-painted signs for more liquor stores than a man could care to count they descended towards the bottom.

The ship's navigation lights clicked out outside the windows.

“Aw shit man, fuck.” murmured one of the guards on the ship, “I never think I'd end up down here. The Pit? And with a Director too, I was hoping I'd get to sit pretty.”

Cai Mi smiled as he looked at the guard. He was a light skinned fellow with a wide crooked nose. Young, younger than him. He stared white-eyed across the cabin to the window alongside the director.

“I didn't think I would either.” Mi said, “But there's a first for everything.”

“Bullshit, there's no first down here. This is where you come to die. I'm telling you that. You haven't been to the CSO have you? We keep tallies on how few people get their heads beaten in down here.

“It's rough, I'm telling you! We're up to five guards this month.”

“I understand your concern.” Cai Mi said, turning to the window. Outside it had grown incredibly dark. It was as if the sun had never risen, or was again eclipsed. Even the light's of the city had diffused incredibly. The only traces of civilization that stood were the stacked hovels of discarded machine parts, spaceship sections, corrugated steel, and processed wood. It was all stacked hap-hazardly and thrown behind a litter-choked chain link fence.

There were no lights. And nothing appeared to be moving. No writing. No advertisements. And other than the one they sat in, no transports. Faintly in the distant darkness that obscured the lower caves misshapen shadows would flit across through the buildings. Strange creatures sat perched atop the rambling, heavy pipes watching the descending craft.

“Don't tell us we're going out?” the young card said.

“We got to. There's something I want.”

“Fucking hell, there's nothing that's worth it here.” the guard protested, “And you can get someone else to do it.”

“Like you?” Cai Mi smiled.

“Oh n-no!” the guard stammered, pressing himself back against the wall of the cabin, raising his arm, “I can find you someone else. I can get you in touch with the CSO Officer and he can organize something. Or you can ask the EO. But I'm not coming here or I'll be beyond KO.”

“Well, you are now.” Cai Mi said, turning back to the window, “And we do have a purpose. I was told by my father that if there was anything you wanted, then all you needed to do is reach out to take it. Inaction or reliance on others doesn't bring results. You do.

“I want to make sure I get what I need on my own schedule.”

“Fuck, you're set on this. Aren't you?” the guard moaned.

“I am.” Cai Mi confirmed, his tone confident and his eyes glued to the darkened pit outside. The windows were beginning to grow hazy as they passed through clouds of steam. There was already a bitter, moldy smell seeping into the cabin.

“Look at it this way, comrade.” Mi's other guard said, “We'll only be here a short while and we're gone. Then you can say you survived The Pit.”

“Man, fuck today. I should have called in sick. My stomach was hurting this morning. It really was.”

Outside, the bottom of the crater rose to meet them. Passing by the windows metal chains and concrete pylons crawled into view as the craft began to set down slowly. Winds whipped up by the descending craft kicked into the air storms of dirt, dust and debris that fluttered past the thick glass. Dashing themselves against each other. Being torn in circles around the cabin like flower petals caught in a rotten wind. In the cloud of steam and soot the glow of lights shone, exploding in the darkness like novas of pure white, brilliant light.

Looming over the lower landing pad a forest of halcyon bulbs glow to a feverish white and illuminated the pad in a light like the sun. A benefit to the crew and the passengers as they set down with a soft thump on the concrete. The moaning song of the engines softened and then died as the pilots killed the power and it sat idle and in a glow of white haze at the bottom of the city.

Rocks and barren industry stood all around them. Like tombstones pylons rode. And like the hand of zombies a forest of steel and iron rose from the mud just outside of the chain fence. Stretching and twisting in a thousand directions, and meeting in a bush, a nest of couplings that merged them all at one valve before streaking off in three different direction in three solid trunks.

Here was the pump house of Kangchai. Here was its heart. And those were its veins, its arteries.

“Director Cai Mi and associates, welcome to the Under Quarter.” a voice said over the intercoms. “Awaiting checkpoint clearance before lowering our gates.”

“You hear that. We're here.” Cai Mi's guard said, taunting the younger. He crooned in distressed as he turned his head away from the impenetrable day-time darkness of the Under Quarter.

“We've received confirmation.” the pilot's voice said again, “Lowering entry hatch. Welcome to Undertown.”

With a sharp hiss and a soft breath the rear of the aircraft parted and split. Metal clicked as it unhinged for itself, opening up on three hinges as the opened like a blooming flower. These ships were military designed, and for the most part they could took a projectile moving at mach speeds and remain operable. The Listeners had ensured a wash of many of these across Brahma, but there was rarely enough army left to justify military use of them.

Rising open the coldness of Under Town's air swept in with the electrical light of the outside. Washing across the silver and alabaster tile of the ship's interior. Killing the comfortable warmth was a harsh humid breath. Rising off of the velvet seats, Cai Mi stepped out through the door, hands wrapped before him. His guards hesitantly followed.

“Now, I've seen some pretty fucked up tourists in my time, but never a director.” a voice laughed loudly as Mi stepped out onto the dirty asphalt of the landing pad. He turned to the source, laying eyes on a haggard middle-aged man. A wide excited smile defined his face as he walked over, his arm resting across the stock of a beefy assault rifle, twinkling LED lights along its side read out all too clear the weapon was charged and live.

“And if I haven't had a good enough fucking day already, he brings his escorts.” he laughed, gleaming at the two guards that accompanied Cai Mi. He was obviously enjoying this moment.

“Do excuse the informality.” he apologized weakly, still laughing between breaths, “But this is too much to take in!” he cheered.

“No offense taken.” Mi smiled.

“Good. Very good!” the Undertown guard smiled, “It's nice to meet people who are for once on the same page as me.

“And records would indicate this is all your first trip to the Under Quarter. And as such we're required to give you the safety orientation for walking its streets. Are you ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Mi's younger guard chirped nervously.

“I fucking love this kid. I tell you.” he cackled, “I can tell he hasn't seen some poor Pup eviscerated because he looked at someone else the wrong way.”

The guard straightened his back, taking a deep breath as he composed himself. “I am Staff Sergeant William Ho of the 3rd precinct of the Under Quarter police office, security branch of the Enforcement Office of Kangchai. As customary to new visitors of the Tkrai Housing Quarter we are addressed to give a brief summary of safety protocals in regards to maintaining the peace and security of our Tkrai bretheran and to any humans who would work or deal with and among the Tkrai tribal communities who have accepted annexation into the Greater Kangchai Administrative Operations.

“Visitors are encouraged to operate quickly and quietly in the quarter as to avoid provocation.

“Visitors are asked to hand over all weapons, unless viable exception is made.” he paused, looking at the two guards, “If you're a member of the EO and are down here for the first time it's highly advised you keep your weapons in the open, but to never point them at a Pup.” he added, obviously informally. He winked at the two guards, giving a sly smile.

“Visitors to the quarter are to be accompanied at all times be a minimum of two armed service men and are expected to make 24 hours previous notice to the precincts to organize a working escort.” he continued, returning to the professional tone, “They are to yield to and respect any and all orders given by their security escort in a effort to preserve their personal security.

“The Enforcement Office also wishes to add that you surrender any and all valuables and update us to you or your relatives contact information. We do not takes responsibility for your personal injury or death.”

With a deep inhale and exhale he finished, relieved. “Welcome to The Pit.” he smiled, “If you will follow me into the checkpoint we can process you. And given your status and rank it has been decided that your escort is increased to five guardsmen who will accompany you to your destination.”

The guard turned on the armored soles of the boots, walking to the concrete structure flooded with innumerable lights. Set in the corner where the bunker connected with the landing pad was a single heavy metal door and bulkhead. Both swung open as the guard passed through, followed by the guests.

Inside was a surreal contrast against the eerie darkness outside the door. Here, soft lights lit up an armada of desks and bunks like it was the natural effort of the sun itself. The building was all one big continuous room. In one corner, guards slept in metal bunks while in the middle men and women brooded over monitors collecting information and calls from inside the quarter itself. Ambient music flooded the air, and it was warm and friendly. Even the people worked and operated as if they weren't in the darkest part of town.

In the far corner banks of lockers on lockers lined the walls. Running from the far corner to the room's only door was storage for the employees valuables and gears. And by the small groups of guardsmen and women dressing and undressing there was no doubt where they changed gear.

Handfuls of small black eyes dropped down from the ceiling, giving a stern watch over the officers below and the guests as they walked in. William Ho whistled a nonchalant tune as he wove them through the desks. Leading them into the center where stood a large clear plastic desk. Sitting behind it an older man sat brooding over a projection tablet, sorting out a number of personal and business affairs across the air in front of him.

“Captain Chu, sir.” Ho saluted, stopping before the desk, “The director is here.”

The old man looked up. He had a dark broad complexion to powerfully Uighur features. He looked at them with a flattened subdued expression. “I can see.” he said, “I take it then this is in regards to Mary Dulard? I got a message earlier about this.

“In all honesty sir, I would have liked longer notice.” he added. “But there's no refusing the Board of Directors on anything.” he added in a sour tone.

“Sit down for a minute, we'll talk about things.” he said invitingly, “Staff Sergeant Ho will give your men their own briefing.” he ordered, looking up to the patiently waiting Ho.

The sergeant bowed, turning to walk off with Mi's accompanying guards.

“I don't suppose if you're down here that you can't simply go to Dullard's office and meet her.” Chu said in a low voice.

“She's never returned a call of mine and never made good on scheduling promises when I sent someone over personally, if she's actually ever in.” Mi admitted.

“Aye, I know that type.” nodded the captain, leaning back into his chair, “Both of us know then she hates something and is protesting it.”

“I think I know well what she hates.” laughed Mi, “After all, it's not like the Bat People have been elevated beyond waste management.”

“Certainly.” Ho laughed, “So it seems you are aware she hates you and won't give the Directors or Executive Officer the time of day. So why even bother?”

“Because I need her support, for once.” Mi said, “And I would like an immediate answer.”

“Well cornering her with seven armed guards will certainly nail the message home.” Ho chuckled, looking over to the men and women suiting up at the far wall, “They should be ready in five minutes.” he said.

“Good to know.” Mi nodded, absentmindedly scanning the captain's desk. All sorts of clutter filled his desk space, from side-arms and their batteries. To various office toys and his administrative tools. A console with an open window for a media player sat open at his side, he no doubt controlled the ambiance. And packed in a metal box just near it was a container that held a large amount of what appeared to be old-world bank notes.

“Doesn't it get uncomfortable with them that open?” Mi asked, looking at the lockers. The guards there had certainly dressed up passed certain undress.

“We're basically the army down here, and if training and service on Earth has desensitized me to anything it's nudity. Even the younger service women don't give me a hard-on anymore. It might be impossible to think, but in these cheap conditions tits have gotten boring.” he said it almost as listlessly and dead as it sounded.

“I'm sorry.” Mi said.

“It's the sacrifices we all make.” he laughed. “Anything else? I'm sure me men can fill in anything else. It's common sense there. And it's often best you don't look at most Bat People in the face. And you're not armed so I don't need to worry about you starting any riots.”

“You can tell me about the box.” Mi said, nodding to the metal container.

Ho looked over to it, and laughing cheered, “Those? Those are just Likes!” he said, laughing, “I know we should really be burning these things. But their value now is so deflated no one ever gives a shit. I burn a million and we bring in two-million the next day. I'm just the over-stock for the week.” he laughed.

“I've heard a lot of talks about Likes. But never saw one. Can I have a look?” he asked, handing out his hand.

“Sure, take the whole fucking container.” Ho laughed, leaning over and picking the crate up. Swinging it onto his desk he dropped it down in front of the Director.

“I'm sure you're aware that Likes are so unregulated that they're the defacto drug and sex money for down here and in Low Quarter. But what I bet no one has said is that their value fluctuates so fucking much they're unreliable. Now-a-days it's more valuable to trade a blow job or a cheap pork bun for some narcotics and fun.”

Ci reached into the box and pulled out a wad of cheap paper notes. All of which looked like re-prints of old-world bank notes. There wasn't even an effort to change serial numbers. Almost all of them had the same series.

On top of the shit forging, they had been vandalized in many ways. On top of the terrible rendering – old-world JPEG quality at best – they had been drawn over with mustaches, penises – human and alien – and crude slogans or ads.

“I can wipe my ass with them and get a better value in quality and price next quarter up.” chuckled Ho.

“So why aren't these destroyed yet?” Ci asked.

“Because this week they're useless. We keep an eye on their value for when we should be really worried. But frankly sir, I feel like we shouldn't. If you allow me to, I can keep these for when their value does skyrocket. We could use the financial weapon if we're going to fight the black market. I could have a million Likes right now and still not be a credit richer.

“Or is someone up-top into some bat in the evening?”

Dogpatch, Somewhere on Brahma

In the corner of the bar sat a lonely cyborg. He was huddled beneath the low blue glow of an ancient neon sign. It cast his slate-tinted body in a cold light, leaving only the liquid-silver of his flesh-metal face in shadow. It was a surreal thing to see, Laz thought. Cyborgs like this one - full cyborgs, with nothing human left of them but the organic brain they were born with, were rare, and they were always prouder than this one. Very few people ever went through with the procedure that replaced mortal flesh with steel and technology. Very few could afford it, and those that could didn't always want it. It was a painful thing, to extract a living brain. And even when it was safely in the comfort of its new mechanical host, it was not immortal. Entombed in cold steel, its humanity was excised and the brain began a century-long journey of slow death. Seeing this one now, Laz heard the voice of his history professor say, in the clinical way that he had spoke. "The Transhumanists suffered from severe psychological problems after their surgeries. We humans love our bodies. Even the ways we hate our bodies are forms of love. Our brains were made for flesh, and when you replace that flesh with mechanics you lose a major part of your humanity."

Laz couldn't help but stare. If the Cyborg could see him, it did not react. It must have saw him though. The liquid-silver of its face, the flesh-metal... those were nanobots, each one capable of every human sense. It could, effectively, see through the entirety of its face. It could smell the same way, and hear and taste and touch. Flesh-metal meant an expensive design. It had been invented in the later years of the twenty first century, used to give faces to the ailing leadership of the Putinate as they chose the cybernetic option. The following centuries hadn't made it any easier to reproduce, and the collapse of humanity's interstellar network had made it near impossible. Each nanobot was an intelligence of its own, capable of transcribing large amounts of information to send to the brain while linking with the rest of the facial network in order to coordinate all of the information they took in. It also moved moved as a network, working together to 'Make Faces'. Every human facial expression was at the command of the cyborg, and they looked almost human. Human rendered in liquid silver.

The pirates had walked them to Dogpatch. It had only taken a couple of days, but Brahma had turned every kilometer into a feat. They had walked along the thick trunk-vines that crisscrossed overgrowth of phosphorescent fungi and draping plants, feeling the breath of the wet, warm Brahman wind against their skin. It carried with it the pungent scent of citrus, rot, and musty smell of stagnant water all blended together in the humidity. Deep in Brahma's jungles, it felt like being inside a living creature. It was overpowering. He knew that below them, in the loose marshy soil, the Tih-Tukrut and their biological relatives hunted for food. Above the canopy of fernroots and fungal trees, the Mayura patrolled. The middle layers of the Brahman overgrowth was not entirely safe either. Their entire road was organic, made from branches that had been teased together by native Tkrai who made their home there. It weakened in some spots, and hosted nesting creatures in others. He heard the pirates mutter about fungi-like sludge moss whose spores were hallucinogenic to the Tkrai. It caused humans to lose consciousness. Their nights had been dark, Brahmapura's twilight glow absent in the sky as the moon faced away from its mother-planet. The sounds of the night had kept him awake. These were new sounds, not like the ones he knew in the safe zone. Here, on the other side of the planet and outside of the safe-zone. Here, it was thumping and screams. He could hear hunger in every howl. Only his enemies kept him safe.

He hated his captors, and he hated how he relied on them. There was no escaping, not in the wild here. They had stolen him and the others. They had killed. They talked of other prisoners, and left Laz and his companions to wonder which of their lost shipmates were still alive and which were dead. But they were his protectors. They treated their prisoners like comrades, boasting about the drinks they had drank and the food they had tried. They laughed bawdily after telling sex stories and bantered about celebrities. It was as if they were simply on a hike in the safe zone. There were brief moments where Laz allowed himself to believe it. It masked the frightening uncertainty of everything, but he couldn't hide from the animal rage that shocked through his core when he thought of the battle in space, and of Eury. He had to fight the rage. He knew in the back of his mind that he relied on them now. He hated himself for that, the necessity behind this helpless cowardice that brought him to see his wardens as his protectors. In some ways, he had more hate ready for himself than he had for them.

Arriving in Dogpatch, the prisoners found it to be a desperate outpost rather than any sort of true colony. It was built into a small crater-turned-sinkhole, one-third the size of larger sink-towns like Kang-Chai and so shallow that only of of Kang-Chai's levels could have fit inside. The top of the hole was lit up by a knitwork of green high-powered laser beams, under which a net of metal wire hung from a web of catwalks. Below that was the town. Its slipshod buildings were built from scrap metal and hastily poured cement. Half of the metal came from salvaged space vessels. The cliff walls were pocked by holes, each a window or entrance into the cave system that surrounded it. In the center of it all was a small puddle of a pond, its water stagnant and brown. The entrance had been through a cave. From there, they had made their way to this bar.

The red-bearded man climbed onto a table, his weight causing the rusted iron to creak. They had learned more about the pirate leader during their journey. Talos Carpenter's career had started on the deck of cargo ships. From there, he had turned smuggler. From there, pirate. Laz had never heard of him before now. Piracy was no secret to those who lived in the safe zone. He had heard of Ruwai, who's recent capture and death had incensed people across the IU. And there was Cylla, the madwoman who commanded a fleet of ships but managed to slip the authorities at every turn. He wondered if he would meet her too.

"New friends." the red-bearded man boomed from on-top a table, his voice distracting from the lonely cyborg. "We cannot let you leave here free men."

Laz felt like spitting at the green-cloaked pirate captain. He held himself composed behind a steely face. If he was going to survive this, he would have to play by their rules.

"We would like you to join us. You won't bring the heat on us that way, you see." the pirate Carpenter tugged at his beard thoughtfully, "But we have a custom in this part of our new world. Our patron has accepted captives as soldiers. He has a way. And he accepts brave men as tributes from him. That is where we are going."

It was silent at first. Laz could feel the collecting tension. A lack of answers had left him and his fellow prisoners in limbo, unsure how to act and what to do. Their futures had not been told to them. Not until now, and now that they knew their fate, the seed of rebellion was nourished in each of them.

"Where did she go?" one of the prisoners shouted out. Laz thought of Eury. What had they done?

"Where did my mother go, you gangrenous cunt." the man completed.

He expected a slap. Maybe a reprimand. The pirates, however, did not react. They did not seem to care.

"I don't know all of this." Carpenter answered in a chilly voice. "You might find out when we get to our destination." Before anybody could speak up, Carpenter hopped off his table with a startling thud. Laz flinched. He realize he wasn't sure what was going to happen next. The pirates hadn't acted predictably at all. They were friendly as far as violent criminals went, but every word they said was laced with a subtle poison. Betray us and we will let you die.

"We will stay here tonight." Carpenter explained. "For now, you can stay in here and have all the grog you want." he pounded a fist on the table. Laz felt the binds around his ankles. They felt heavy. The promise of grog - the computer-produced replicator version of alcohol - did not interest him. Laz wanted to sleep, and to wake up somewhere else.

"Tomorrow." Carpenter said . "We head for Kartago."