[IC] Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

[gorgenmast]

Downtown, Nai Kolkata

Rising up into the alien sky from the downtown districts was Rouhani Tower - an elegant yet imposing edifice. It went skyward from a plaza of babbling fountains and manicured date palms up toward Brahmapura and tiny, pale Dhruva. To see downtown Nai Kolkata and the poorer outer quarters like Khurama Jila, it was sometimes hard to believe that the two districts were part of the same world, let alone the same city. While Khurama Jila could easily be mistaken for a city on Earth two or three hundred years ago, the heart of Nai Kolkata embodied everything that was modern. Towers sprouted from the fertile soil of downtown Nai Kolkata like a well-tended garden. Futurists of centuries past, who had predicted that cities of the future would be cold, brutalistic forests of gray geometric skyscrapers, had failed to remotely describe Nai Kolkata. The architecture of Brahma's greatest city was characterized by warm, earthy colors and free flowing, organic shapes. The great buildings of Nai Kolkata emulated the natural shapes of Earth: tree buds, seashells, pomegranates, and sand dollars among others. The Rouhani Tower was no exception; it was a mountain of polarized glass composed of concentric tiers, with each corner of the building anchored with fig-shaped cupolas. High up among the wispy clouds, the upper tiers opened along the sides with gill-like sheets - hangars for the various flavors of vertical takeoff vehicles that plied the skies of Nai Kolkata - above which the tower terminated in a pleated dome that bore resemblance to a lotus bud.

From within a glass elevator racing up to the top of the Rouhani Tower, Sofija and Erko watched as the churning nexus of the largest city on Brahma shrank before them. From nearly a kilometer in the sky, a sprawling mass of concrete and glass stretched in every direction toward the horizon with the glowing tendrils of roadway innervating the metropolis and reaching out to its very edges beyond where a hazy horizon met the sky. While Sofija had only temporarily been denied such luxuries as riding in subsonic elevators to offices in the clouds during her stint of extreme poverty, Erko could scarcely believe he was witnessing such a thing. Humans lived in decadence among the clouds in their trees of concrete and glass, Tkrai wallowed in the gutters of humanity's refuse when they allowed it. Since mankind had arrived on this world, this was how life on Brahma was; this was how the two races were to coexist.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps, Erko considered now, there was some truth to the pamphlets and other forms of human propaganda distributed through the Batmen slums. Upward mobility through hard work and cooperation with humans was possible for even the lowliest of the batmen. Batmen could make their way in a world dominated by humans. Tkrai did enjoy the fruits of this new civilization so long as they reformed themselves.

He was living proof of these this; he had made it.

Behind them in the elevator stood a well groomed and dapper fellow, grinning widely with amusement as Sofija and Erko glued themselves to the glass wall of the elevator. He chuckled to himself, causing Sofija to spin around to face him; Erko's enormous pointed ears twitched and honed in on the sound, but he remained fixed to the window.

"What's so funny?" Sofija asked as gingerly and politely as she was able. The pair and this stranger had briefly exchanged pleasantries down on the first floor as they had boarded the elevator. Even so, she had never met this man and was cautious as to not be unduly bold.

"Don't worry, it's nothing you're doing." The gentleman in the tightly-fitted khaki field jacket and navy cargo pants assured cooly. "It's that you remind me of my little girl. I swear that riding up and down these things is the highlight of her day. Practically glued to the window - a lot like you are."

"How can you not be amazed? The view from this height is incredible."

"The novelty wears off - fairly quickly actually. I take it you must be new to Nai Kolkata?"

"I suppose you could say that." Sofija admitted rather shyly, turning her face down to the buffed metal floor. In truth, she had lived in this very city for going on seven years now. But the glittering superstuctures like Rouhani Tower had been nothing but fixtures in the sky; every bit as exotic and unreachable as Brahmapura or Agni. The Nai Kolkata she had been accustomed to was one of shoddily-built tenements, wet markets, and Batmen slums. Though she was evading the whole truth, this bright, clean Nai Kolkata was indeed altogether new to her.

"Well then, welcome to the City. I realize we didn't properly acquaint ourselves." The man in field garb offered Sofija a warm smile in addition to a rough, calloused hand. "Stanzo Salares." He declared. "I'm with the Foundation. And yourself?"

She took - or at least attempted to take - the man's giant palm and shook it deftly. "I am also in the employ of the Foundation. I'm Sofija Sobral, and this is my friend Erk-"

"You are Sofija Sobral?!" Stanzo practically yelled in incredulity. "Impossible! I mean, we knew to expect you sometime this week... But I never thought that our paths would ever cross, let alone that I would run into you on an elevator! Your studies on the stresses of introduced Earth species on Orpheus laid the groundwork for what the Foundation has been trying to accomplish for the past decade! I can only imagine the kind of work we're going to accomplish with you on our team."

"Thank you, Stanzo. That's all very flattering." Sofija acknowledged. "So I take it you have a leadership role among this organization? Might you be able to tell Erko and I what will be expected of us?"

The inside of the elevator car rang with a synthetic chime as the three approached their destination. Their stomachs lurched as the elevator slowed down and eventually came to a halt on the 172nd floor. A second chime rang through the elevator as the doors slid open, allowing Sofija and Erko to follow along behind Stanzo as he led them through the home offices of the Tkrai Advocacy Foundation.

"You've come to us at a hectic time, Mrs. Sobral." Stanzo explained as he led her through a maze of cubicles. Stanzo walked at a brisk pace and failed to give the hobbling Erko the opportunity to keep pace with him. "Our primary concern at this point is Timbeross, rather predictably. Their personnel and assets have been reported well beyond the established boundaries of the Safe Districts. Orbital imagery shows that they are mobiliziing land clearing operations on a massive scale. Numerous native species - including several tribes - are in peril." Stanzo continued on, giving a rapid-paced tour of the office floors and having completely lost Erko at this point. Sofija, in her eagerness to stay attentive, forgot to allow her slower companion to keep pace.

"Then again, our office recently accepted a contract from the Directors Board of Kangchai of all places. They're requesting survey teams to determine the scope of various tribal populations to the South. Personally I don't appreciate the idea of playing scout for the scheming, slant-eyed bastards for who-knows-what, but they are paying handsomely and we do have to keep the lights on around here somehow."

"This whole process seems to be moving faster than I imagined." Sofija said hesitantly. "Isn't there paperwork that I ought to be filling out? Training or some sort of orientation perhaps?"

"Probably..." Stanzo admitted, "but that's not really my sphere. I'm more of a field supervisor. Now, I'm sure the higher-ups would love to waste our time pushing a lot of meaningless paper around and getting tangled in red tape. My philosophy, though, is that the less of that bullshit you waste time working on, the more time we can devote to endeavors that actually matter. Now, I don't really know about you, but I joined the Foundation to keep humanity from ruining another perfectly good planet. If I wanted to get mired down in a lot of paperwork, I'd have been an accountant or lawyer or something - screw that shit." Sofija nodded in tacit approval.

"Wait, a minute..." She huffed, looking from side to side for her lost companion. "Damn, where'd Erko go? Erko?!"

A few moments later, the Tkrai crawled out into the main aisle from between a row of cubicles. His great ears swiveled about toward Sofija much like a rotating satellite dish. Stanzo gave a annoyed sigh as Erko caught up with them.

"You really need to keep up. I'm trying to get you and Sofija here up to speed."

"I apologize." Said Erko dejectedly, his ears falling down in line with the back of his head - the rough equivalent of blushing among the Tkrai. "I made every effort to keep pace. I did hear most of what you said. You need not repeat yourself."

Stanzo turned away from the Tkrai to Sofija. "There is likely some forms you will need to fill out for an hour or so. But I need you to get them completed as quickly as possible. Wrap that up and meet me another 20 floors up at the hangars."

"Certainly... But what will you have us doing up there?"

"Heading out." Stanzo smiled. "We're going to need you - and Erko - in the field as soon as possible."

"Chop-chop. Go burn through that busy-work. We've got a world to save out there."

[Chapatrap]

En-route to the border of the safe zone and the jungle wastes
The shuttle was built for high-ranking Timbeross officials, complete with a minibar, a holo-television, an MP5 player and even cup holders. It could be comparable with the old Earth-style limos, with black leather seats lining the walls, dark tinted windows and the cockpit screened off. All of these lay unused by the shuttles four occupants, all of non-human origin. Three of the Tkria looked completely out of place on modern Brahmin while the fourth looked uncomfortably human next to his ancestral brethren. Toonak grumbled to his guards, who nodded understandably. Loyal to their last breath yet clever and powerful, they were the model Tkrai and more than capable of killing anything that threatened their Chief.

Yera nervously tapped his small fingers off of the seat. The translator was supposed to escort Toonak all the way back to the jungle and it was clear the Junker tribesmen disliked him. 'Chief Toonak, would you like a drink? The human loozy-juice is most enjoyable' he asked suddenly, gesturing to the mini bar. The Chief crinkled his bat nose in disgust and shook his head. 'I would rather live on my own excrement for the rest of my days, child' he answered coldly. Things went silent across the shuttle again as the Chief ignored the translator. One of the guardsmen looked down his nose at the shorter, domesticated Batman and showed his teeth in displeasure. 'You live not how your ancestors told you. You call yourself Tkrai yet cover your skin in human cloth. And your size! Look at you! You're most tiny for a Tkrai! The Mother has spat up bigger pieces of clay from her godly listening-holes than you'. He spat on the last word and Yera looked at his feet.

'Dirty domesticate, you are. You bed humans and drink their poisons' growled the other guardsman. Yera nervously scratched at his clothing. 'You misunderstand, brothers. J-just because I work with the humans does not make me a domesticate. I ease relations, stop wars between our species! I am raising a young family in the capital, I work for a Tkrai-founded organisation that seeks to break down the barriers of oppression and racial hatred with cooperation between our species!' Yera stopped his outburst and stared at the larger tribesmen with his wide, nervous eyes. They both glared at him while the Chief continued ignoring his presence. The translator felt deflated as he moved down the shuttle to be away from the tribesmen who hated him so.

Several hours later...

Toonak awoke with a jolt. The shuttle was making a slow, lazy turn down to a landing pad but something didn't feel right. His guards sat stiffly on either side of him and the domesticate sat down the row, his head turned away from them in sleep. 'Chief?' asked one of the guards, noticing him awake. 'Something is not right. We are not out of the Human's reach yet. Why are we stopping?' he whispered, glancing out the window. The ground was slowly becoming closer and with his tired, old eyes, he could see the blobs of several humans on the landing pad. 'Domesticate!' barked the Chief to the Yera. The translator awoke immediately and sat up, his ears twitching. 'Chief Toonak?' asked Yera, slightly annoyed he had been awaken from his sleep. 'We are stopping. Why are we stopping? We are not yet home!' said the Chief, a tinge of fear appearing in his eyes. 'I am sure we are just stopping for a fu-' the translator gaped out the window. 'Oh.' It was the only thing he could say.

'I am sure this is just a misunderstanding. I will just go speak to the pilot, I'm sure things will be all right'. The translator approached the screen and knocked on the window. There was no answer. 'Excuse me, Mister Pilot sir, we appear to be landing. Why is this?' he asked in English, knocking again. There was still no answer. He glanced back to the small group of tribesmen and shrugged. Toonak murmured a command to his guards and they stood to their feet, clutching small spears. 'Oh! My chief, this is most unnecessary! I am sure there has been a misunderstanding, please do not cause fighting with the humans!' yelped the translator, almost tripping over his feet to approach the chief. 'Quiet, domesticate! Where is the escape from this metal beast?' growled one of the guards, glancing around restlessly. 'Th-there is only one escape. The sliding door at the side.' answered the smaller Tkrai, his gaze fixated at the ground. 'The humans have betrayed us' announced Toonak. 'I feared this from the start'. 'Please, my chief, do not make a rash deci-' the translators speech was cut short by a blow from one of the guards. The translator crumbled to the floor, out cold.

'Dirty domesticate' spat the guard. There was silence in the shuttle as the Chief sunk into his seat and the guards wearily approached the door. The shuttle was now preparing to land and was slowly sinking to the ground. The lights flickered and went off. 'The metal fires...' murmured the guardsman, glancing at the ceiling. 'My chief, your life is worth a hundred of ours. We will protect you to the death. Right, brother?' the guardsman looked at his brother in the dark and they clutched their spears tighter. 'You have done well, my children' whispered the chief. 'May you hunt well in the sky'.

There was silence again. But this was a different kind of silence to the ones before. The sounds of a human city whizzed past outside and there was darkness, inside the shuttle and out. The guards had accepted their fate and were prepared to take down as many humans as possible. The door whizzed open and both warriors screamed a battle cry. They were momentarily blinded by a bright, artificial light and that was all it took before bullets entered both of their bodies. They screeched and screamed as they hit the floor with a thud. Blood pooled out below their bodies. 'Tango down' came a sarcastic whisper from the door. 'Shut up, you prick' said his friend. There was the sound of boots thudding on the shuttle and four mercenaries stepped on in the darkness, all fully geared in night vision.

'Chief Toonak, we're going to have to ask you to come with us...' said a voice in the darkness.

[gorgenmast]

Vajra Mountains, Unorganized Interior Territories

((Suggested listening))

Contrails of clean, white vapor rolled off the edges of a gunship's fuselage as it burst forth from a cottony cloudbank, leaving quivering beads of moisture rolling off the hull in the wind. A few hundred meters beneath the tri-jet dropship was a landscape characterized by what might arguably be the most exotic and striking terrain any human had ever seen: the Vajra Mountains. Jagged arches formed massive bridges over deep, mist-veiled chasms beside colossal hoodoos of chalky white rock marbled with swirls of pinks and oranges reached toward the clouds. All but the sheerest of rock faces of this jagged landscape were absolutely carpeted in a dense mat of thick jungle foliage. Surrounded by this chaotic mix of rock formation were massive plateaus from which disgorged thousands of gallons of water from cliffside waterfalls. To call this collection of rock formations a mountain range was grossly inaccurate - human vocabulary was unprepared to describe what this kind of terrain was, as nothing similar to it existed on their homeworld. Technically, the Vajras were a vast expanse of karst-like terrain; if the Cloud Forests of New Guinea, the Badlands of the Dakotas, and the Mountains of South China could have somehow been combined, the result might have been something with a cursory similarity to the Vajra Mountains.

Out of the windows and beyond the open loading bay of the gunship, every passenger aboard the aircraft stood in awe - enrapt by the sheer alien-ness of the landscape rolling past underneath them. Every passenger, that is, but Sofija Sobral. She instead scrunched herself into the seat and stared across the fuselage with a nauseated grimace across her face. Her discomfort attracted the attention of a monstrous man with a fluttering mane of blonde dreadlocks decked in anti-ballistic leather armor - the protection detail, no doubt. He slung the beast of a gun in his arms over his shoulder and down his back as he stepped over to the xenobiologist.

"Yo, lady... you gonna be aroight?" He asked, giving away a distinct Afrikaner dialect.

A pale-faced Sofija trembled silently in her restraints and gave a swift nod. It was apparent that the armed guard did little to soothe her nerves, and so the Soufrikan giant left her with a shrug. With the giant firearm cradled in both arms - some sort of automatic grenade launcher - the guard scanned the horizon and the mountains below for any sign of trouble. The very fact that the guard's presence was required for this routine flight was a reminder that the so-called Safe Zone could be quite deadly, particularly here in the remote south-central interior. Large swathes of the Brahma's inhabited region remained as undeveloped and wild as any wilderness outside the Zone's borders, especially when unfavorable terrain impeded human colonization as was the case here. Some surface highways had been installed to connect Nai Kolkatta with nearby states such as Ephyra and Prachapadri along corridors where the jungles had been tamed and the terrain smoothed by earthmoving equipment. Flight, however, was the only way to reach isolated Kangchai on the southernmost fringe of the Safe Zone. And even here, high above the jungle, one was not entirely safe; the Mayura still ruled these skies.

Erko too stood near the cusp of the rear bay - a respectful distance behind Stanzo and the guard. Wind coursing through the fuselage ruffled and mussed the peachfuzz coat of fine, downy fur that covered his body. Seeing the mountains from this height was the most amazing thing he had ever witnessed. Down below him, in that untamed maze of jungle and stone, there were Tkrai who had never experienced first contact with the humans - perhaps they knew absolutely nothing of these men from the stars. He imagined at least some of them must now be gazing up to the skies in ignorance at the silver creature rumbling through the skies above their heads as Erko looked down upon them. His own kind so far beneath him seemed so primitive and backwards to him from this height. He imagined this was how the humans thought of him: even the most erudite and reformed of the Batmen were barely distinguishable from the stone-cutting savages in the jungle below in the eyes of a human.

Stanzo shoved Erko aside as he stepped back from the edge of the rear bay, supporting his suspicions about humanity's view of the Batmen. "Watch where you're standing." Stanzo huffed. "You could've bumped me off the edge if we'd hit turbulence. Be more careful."

"Forgive me, it will not happen again." Erko squeaked. Stanzo ignored the Tkrai and continued over to the interior of the fuselage, plopping himself down into the seat alongside Sofija's.

"Looking a little green in the gills, ma'am." Said Stanzo with a concerned smile. "I wish you would've said something about being dropship-sick before we left. Travel by air is a big part of the job."

"I'm not sick." Sofija corrected. "It's just anxiety..."

"Anxiety? You afraid some critter is going to nab us out of the sky? C'mon now, Eyck here's got our back." Stanzo nodded over to the armor-clad guard, scanning across the horizon. Sofija shook her head solemnly.

"I had a bad experience on my last flight."

"A bad experience?" Stanzo teased. "Just because you had some shitty pilot once doesn't mean every dropship ride is a near-dea-..."

"Orpheus."

"I see..." Stanzo acknowledged somberly, recalling stories of the failed defense and evacuation of that planet in the wake of the Listener attack. "Well, this will be nothing like that. We'll get to Kangchai safe and sound. It'll all be alright.

A commotion outside the aircraft drew the attention of every passenger onboard. A thousand wingbeats stirred the air around the gunship as a flock of small airborne creatures pressed in, drawn to the howl of the jets. Stanzo and the other Foundation workers looked to the armed guard at the rear of the craft for reassurance who seemed totally unfazed by the great flock of flying aliens.

"Mantas." Eyck declared, pointing to one of the half-meter wide creatures with the barrel of his firearm. They had great, yellow-blue wings that beat in much the same way as a butterfly's - though they seemed to bear more resemblance to the rays of earth for which they were apparently named. A mass of tentacles for feeding were pursed up into a rigid beak during flight extended forward from their head. "They just loike the sound of the engines. Totally 'armless."

No sooner than he had relieved the passengers, the air quavered with a long, bellowing screech. Deep and grating - it immediately drained the color from the faces of everyone on board. Erko's ears twitched and vibrated in pain - a sign that the sound was much louder on frequencies inaudible to humans. The Mantas sensed it as well; their smooth, undulating flock immediately scattered into a thousand directions.

The guard's position stiffened as he leveled the grenade launcher into the sky - flipping the safeties off and activating the holosight in three swift, fluid motions. His body language confirmed what the passengers feared.

"Hunting call!" Eyck howled. "Poilot, get us some altitude! We need'a put some distance between us and the flock!"

Beyond the Safe Zone, Three Months Prior

"We should have cut their heads free from their filthy necks the moment their kind stepped upon this world!" A Tkrai chattered in his native tongue, throwing a clenched fist above the glowing coals of the fire. Numerous other batmen shouted out in furious solidarity - their clenched fists cast flickering shadows against the walls of the cavern.

"That is your feeling? Why do you say it only now that they have taken your people? I have said precisely this for the past one hundred alok." A withered Tkrai, whose scrunched face was decorated with a knotted beard, snarled in reort. "You, Maato, had no quarrel with the humans until now. You traded your friendship for their guns, which you in turn pointed against us Junker. See now how the humans treat their friends."

"Toonak has the right of it! Let the humans butcher the Maato like the traitors they are!"

"Such nerve for a Lohtak to call anyone a traitor!" Another angry voice screeched out from across the fire. "We Shamari still remember the treachery your clan meted out against ours!"

The discussion rapidly devolved from that point on. A dozen shouting matches in four Tkrai languages reverberated against the damp rock of the cavern. Vines from the surface reached down from a dim shaft of bluish sunlight above the dwindling council fire. Batmen clambered along the vines and hung down with bouncing energy over the fire, observing the ten-way argument their chieftains had descended into and occasionally chiming in with their own demeaning chirps.

The argument was becoming increasingly aggressive. One of the chieftans around the fire had even taken a heavy stone into his slender fingers and raised it menacingly, threatening to crush it against one of his rivals' skulls. Shouts had devolved into unintelligible screeches of hostility - their diaphragms quavered with uncontrollable fury. This council was seconds away from turning into a bloodbath.

Exactly as planned.

"Look at yourselves!" A deep, warm voice commanded at last from the shadows of the clammy grotto. Batmen were known to possess squeaky, high-pitched voices - to hear a creature that could speak so sonorously, with such command - the squabble came to an abrupt, silent halt. Was this creature the one that had arranged this council to begin with? "Look at yourselves and you will see the root of all our evils."

"Show yourself unto us!" Chief Toonak commanded the enigmatic speaker in the darkness, breaking the silence. "It is you who bid us to meet for this council? Make yourself seen!" All eyes directed themselves to the darkness beneath a dripping overhang, every ear turned to hear slow footsteps smacking against the soggy cavern floor.

Into the firelight came a positively ancient Tkrai. The fuzzy down that covered his lanky body was silvery white; numerous cuts and scars on the edges of his great ears bespoke a long and troubled life. Even so, he walked with a slow and regal dignity. Unlike Toonak, he needed no walking stick - he seemed to be in remarkable health despite his extremely advanced age.

"Who are you?" The Maato chieftan demanded.

"I am he that brought us together this day." The ancient Tkrai affirmed. "I have lived for a great many alok, more than can be remembered. I recall the state of Amuk-Tlih before the first man came from the stars and set foot upon it. And as you have - I have seen this world blighted as they arrive in ever greater numbers."

"Then you are in agreement?" Asked the Maato leader. "You have brought us here that we might come together to destroy the humans?"

"Impossible!" A chief from across the fire blurted. "If every Tkrai on Amuk-Tlih answered a warpath against the humans, we would be destroyed before we came to the line of their Safe Zone! To oppose the humans is a deathwish!"'

"You are both right... You are both wrong." Declared the elder Tkrai as he approached the fire ring; the chieftans parted away from him a respectful distance as he did.

"Every clan and tribe on this world could not hope to accomplish anything against the humans of the Safe Zone."

"How are we to oppose them? They must be stopped!"

The silver-haired Tkrai nodded. "The humans can not be fought as many clans. Since they have arrived on this world, humans and the tribes have fought, and the tribes have always lost. The humans know to pit your tribes and clans against one another. They have practiced this on their own world - making their enemies do the fighting for them. It is a clever way to fight. If we are to win, Tkrai must not fight as clans. Tkrai must fight as one."

Ears pricked upright as the gathering pressed in to hear what the silver-haired one said.

"You must not have any loyalty to any chieftain." He continued. "A single chieftan may be swayed to the humans to fight on their behalf - leading an entire people astray. Tkrai must not be loyal to their people or their cheiftan. Their only loyalty must be to Amuk-Tlih, as such, there can be no cooperation with humans."

"That will still not work!" A dissenter crowed. "We have spears and knives! Humans have railguns and gunships! How can we possibly make war against them?"

The ancient Tkrai nodded thoughtfully. "Tkrai do not know this: humans are as divided as you. The humans have their own clans and their own feuds. Just as they have turned your clans against one another, we too can make their disagreements work for us."

"On the other side of Amuk-Tlih, there is a settlement of humans - they call it 'Kartago'. There they cultivate a great hatred the humans of the Safe Zone, as the humans of the Safe Zone hate them."

"You aim to foster a feud of trangression between the Safe Zone and the men of Kartago?" Chief Toonak deduced.

"There is a word among the humans for this tactic that they have practiced for thousands of alok." The Silver-Haired elder affirmed, nodding in confirmation.

"We shall use their own 'False Flag' against them."

[Dinh AaronMk]

Kangchai, Underquarter

The dark, damp bar dripped more with sickly moisture than it did with light. Flickering fluorescent bulbs cast an eerie blue glow over the room. But it was patchy at best. Large islands of light swam in a sea of blackness. Densely packed bat-like creatures hung huddled in this light, or outside of it. None too eager to enter too close to the other's group.

Their flat-faced features snarled at each other from over cups of bone and metal, where swam a green sort of liquid broth. The smell of the drink was repugnant at best. The Tkrai however claimed it was sweet like fresh fruit, but the fact hadn't got many humans to sample the drink; if any at all. Even the most iron-bellied of man seemed to turn their nose away from the pungent brew, or on seeing the fuzzy nature of the over-ripened wine that it was. Some even claimed to have viewed worms swimming in it. But all the same, it had been a desired drink of the Tkrai, and many simply tolerated each other to drink it.

They sat in silence though as they sipped their booze. Silent faint whispers carried in the dank silence. To man a silence, but a whisper to the Tkrai all the same. They allowed themselves to be lost in themselves or among their cliques as they regarded the foreign tribes with a distant sort of apprehension and distaste.

Such silence could persist, and would have if the door had not opened.

Hinges groaned feebly as to the front of the bar that rusted iron door swung open. Flashing through the door way the familiar bright white cones of flashlights bathed across the bar floor. There was one, then two. Then a full five that lit up the tattered wooden floor and the sagging tin roof as five guards stepped inside, holding in their hands the massive assault weapons of their trade.

“Brishai!” cursed one of the Pups as he shot up from the table. His angry voice scratching the air in a shrill cry, “I have done nothing wrong today! Why are you pavadi here!?”

“I'm not looking for trouble from any of you Tkrai.” a voice called out from the middle of the trespassing guards. Dressed in the maroon robes of the Directors a young, balding human stepped forward. “I am Director Cai Mi. I wish to speak to a Mrs. Dullard. I was told she was here.”

“Why would you want to speak to her, High One?” a Tkrai croaked aggressively from the far corner of the room. His voice boomed like a bullfrog. Cai Mi allowed his attention drawn to where the native patron had been sitting to see a large tank of a Tkrai shambling across the room on thick leathery arms and legs.

“Merely respectable business.” Mi said.

“Are High Ones capable of such respect?” the Tkrai grumbled in that low aggressive tone. His flat puged face gnarled in a disgusted sneer, bearing long needle teeth as he walked across the moldy floor. His small beady eyes glowed unhappily from a deep heavy brow, nearly swallowing them. Under his chin hung a thickly bearded jowl that sagged and flagged at every step.

“We are all working men, so I do imagine we all know of respect.” Cai Mi replied back, holding his ground as the large bat walked defiantly cross the room to him. His large barrel chest held outward as he reeled up on his hammer-headed knuckles.

The guards Cai Mi had with him tensed. The soft clicks of their weapon's safeties being turned on cut the tense silence that had prevailed. “Aliens should know if they start shooting they won't ever leave alive.” the Tkrai said sneering, without raising his voice, “Not if they want to leave with their hands on their bellies.”

“I understand.” Cai Mi nodded.

“Do you?” the Tkrai barked, “I don't think you do. Seated so high up in the sunlight while we dwindle in darkness. What do you possibly have with us! With the Only Good One?” his voice was deep and boiling. Despite the guards he stepped to the Director. Puffing himself out as he rose up onto his hind legs.

“P'liash!” a female voice yelled from the back of the bar, panicked and clearly human. She was clearly stressed, and no doubt the Tkrai's stance was not making it any easier on her. “There is no need for that, you can step down.” she said. Her voice tense and restrained as she ran out into the light.

The Tkrai hesitated, hovering over Cai Mi. Furrowing his brow he backed down. Cursing in spitting tongues as he balked away, calling him out in every word the local Tkrai had for his kin.

“Mrs. Dullard.” Cai Mi responded, taking a deep breath.

“Director.” the woman said. Her face was pale and gaunt, almost sickly. Golden yellow hair had been pulled back across her head. “You know the Underquarter is no place for you. You could have tried my office.”

“I have, many times.” Cai Mi said with a snide smile, “You were always down here. So I decided if this was your terms, I'd meet you here.”

“You're fucking mad, you know that.” Mary Dullard said with a snicker. Sighing, she rubbed her pale green eyes. “Alright, you can meet me in back.” she invited defeated, holding open her arms as she lead the Director and his escort through.

The Tkrai pressed themselves back against the wall. Giving the humans a wide cautious berth as they passed. There was a clear apprehension for the guards, dressed in heavy carbon-fiber battle armor. Faces masked behind foggy opaque masks, they had a spook quality to them. A ghostly demonic presence to the Tkrai.

***

The backroom wasn't anything better than the front. It was dilapidated, old. No doubt a running effect of contact with too much local water. Impurities that came naturally made the water acidic when untreated. Outside massive columns of pipes ran over-head, buckled to the ceiling of the cave by heavy steel buckles. Or in the middle of the street, slowly being devoured by crimson rust.

A large pipe had to run just over head, or a number of auxiliary systems or local plumbing within the walls. In the light shining diamond beads of water dripped down through the floor boards carrying a soft, subtle sulfuric smell. Stalactites of yellow calcium bloomed over head from the ceiling, growing in around the cable that kept the back room's single light up.

What could have been a store-room had been quickly converted to a rudimentary doctor's office. An aluminum bed sat in the corner, where a frail young Tkrai sat curled against the wall naked. Its legs pulled up against its bald chest as its claws gripped the bedside tightly. It regarded the new host of men with anxious tension that only forced it harder against the wall. Flicking ears and wide eyes made it look – and act – more like an animal than a sentient creature in any case.

“Don't mind him, in the corner.” Mary said softly, “He can't speak English, or New Mandarrin.”

“So he's deaf to all of this?” Cai Mi said.

“As if it would matter. I imagine already the news a Director is in The Pit will be making its way through the entire quarter. Your presence isn't really unknown.”

“It hasn't since I first stepped foot outside the gate.” Mi laughed, casually looking over the whole of the room. On a table by the bed sat a small holographic tablet, a medical report on its screen. On shelves and a table nearby was a drugstore's worth of prescription drugs. “Nice set-up.” he complimented.

“Listen, I know you're not here for tourism.” Mary said flustered, approaching the young Tkrai pup, “So why not cut the shit and get to it? I got things to do.”

“Very well.” Cai Mi nodded, “I have a proposition I would like to make to the foundation, a favor I'd like to request that if accepted by Hou will be returned to you in four times its value, maybe five.”

“I'm not interested in money.” Mary said, gently holding the young pup's hands. Turning to him she started speaking in some crude human imitation of one of the intense and complicated Tkrai languages. It was no secret that humans couldn't always get the high-notes in the Tkrai library of hundreds of tones, but placeholder sounds and substitutions had been developed for between the two races.

“What if the offer involves a fully funded chance to mount an expedition into the wilderness of Brahma.” Cai Mi continued, “Fully funded, fully resources, fully protected, and fully backed by Kangchai. With the primary mission to be to assess – at least on a local scale – the full effects of the human effect on Tkrai communities. Displacement, society, economy, health.

“And if in the end, what if I said the Executive may be willing to support accommodations to alleviate such ill effects?”

“You're asking for a big thing.” Mary replied, having comforted the young pup enough to continue with what checkup she had been doing. She reached down into a bag by the bedside for a stethoscope, “Are you sure the Board has the money for such a mission?”

“We do.” Cai Mi said, “And we will, if some one or some persons are willing to make a sacrifice for it.”

“Well I'm not paying, which leaves you and a handful of others. But I can hardly believe it.” Mary said cynically.

“I inherited a lot of things from my father. Most of it I'm not sure what to do with to be honest.” Cai Mi laughed, “I could blow it away on frivolous things. Activated Tkrai Almonds. Cultured ham. A private fleet of warships...”

“Stop, you're getting too China.” Mary snickered, “And my ancestors own legacy persists. That's saying something!”

“So we're at an understanding?” Mi said.

“Depends, what do you want?” asked Mary.

“I need you to lend me your support, and to come to the Upper Quarter to discuss details with the Executive. Make some calls back to the Foundation. Help us organize this.

“And return my calls.” Cai Mi added, with a matter-of-fact grin.

“I know there's more to that...” Mary growled, “But if I don't I get the feeling you'll come back here and 'remind' me. When?”

“This evening.”

“Fucking Christ.” Mary swore, “Alright. I'll be there. Just don't get killed on the way out, I can't protect you there. I don't want blood my hands, and I can only imagine what the board will do if you are killed.”

“It's my plan not to.” Cai Mi bowed, stepping back, “I'll be sure to give my regards to the brute in front.”

“It'd be best if you don't.” Mary nearly shouted, “P'liash is angry at a lot of things. And best to give him a wide birth if you may. Just... Just don't talk to him. Ever. Again.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” the Director grinned, turning to the door.

[Vilageidiotx]

Dogpatch

Night in Dogpatch was a new experience.

In Nai Kolkata, and in most places where humans lived, lighting was controlled. He was used to illuminated walls that flickered white like wax paper lit by electric candles, and which could be adjusted with the use of simple consoles. Where there were no walls, streetlights and spotlighted fountains pushed the darkness into the poverty-stricken batman ghettos and seething underworlds that people like Laz rarely had to see. Space had been the same. The Aro had mimicked the day-and-night cycles of planets. Though adjustments could be made, subtle changes in lighting took place throughout the ship automatically as one hour gave way to the next. In the depths of space, the same had been true for orbital stations. It made people feel happier, Laz had been taught. Soft-light fought off depression and anxiety. He had no reason to argue - he had grown up with it. Now there were no lights, and he saw the truth in that wisdom. It made him nervous.

This place was different. There were a handful of aging floodlights on the catwalks above, each cracked and chipped and buzzing with heat. They faced toward each other so that the nets were visible. Down on the ground, the only light available poured weak from windows, or came from strings of LED beads that hung from the gutters in wide, festive arcs. Distant flashes teased at the corner of his vision, in the wilderness beyond, where luminescent hunting flowers struck at their pray with glowing gulps. And there were corners where the darkness grew thick. Those were the worst. What was there? What could those corners be hiding? He looked, but he could not see. The Brahman jungles were a living blackness, and the thought of what they concealed put Laz on edge. He was afraid of what might be out there. He couldn't help but look.

Animal noises overwhelmed the human. Croaks and buzzes from beyond the pit overwhelmed the whir of power stations within, and the faint singing of Choral Flowers matched the bass reverberations of indoor music. Down here, there was no breeze. Humidity hung in the air like a stale breath. There was something else about this air, something different. It was natural. Here in the wild, there was something purer about the air. The human stench was stronger; the smell of spilled grog and old sewage was unavoidable, but there was something else. Something wet. Something floral. It was mud and compost, new fallen rain on thirsty sponge-fungi and new fallen shit on a patch of sludgy moss. It was musty and green, decomposition and life. It smelled great, but it was overwhelming. Like the rest of this place, it only helped to wear him down.

Laz's nerves were undone. He had spent the last several days on a zero-g drop through the worst of his emotions. He only wanted to fall asleep, to go unconscious for days, and to wake up a week from now in his own bed. He took a deep breath and fingered the pipe in his front pocket. It was small, with two bowls so that one could be filled with water from which moisture could be sucked into the pipe

The pirates had given one to all of them. Laz had smoked Tak before, but it was expensive in the safe zone. The plant was native to this side of the world. It grew like a weed, sprouting from steel walls as easily as it did rocks or dead wood. It was one of the few chemicals that had the same neurological effect on humans as it did on the Tkrai - calming, soothing, and in many ways deadening. When he was in school, they told him that it felt the way you would expect a tree to feel.

Down here, the drug was beloved.

He plucked a flower from the wall, mushed it into paste between his thumb and forefinger, and pressed it gently into the second bowl. With one hand, he ruffled through his pockets. They had given him a lighter. He knew he had it. Somewhere. He cursed himself. Should he even be smoking this shit? They gave them the pipes to keep them sedate. It seemed so obvious, so devious. Part of him felt like a traitor for accepting to use it, but what else could he do? Wallow? Rebel? If he tried to gain his freedom by force, he would surely die. He wanted to see his family again, and to find where Eury had gone. He didn't want to die here. Where had that lighter gone? He fumbled.

A finger reached out in front of his face and startled him. Its tip was glowing orange like hot metal. It was hot metal. Laz watched, dumbstruck, as the finger lightly touched the bowel of his pipe and set it aflame.

"I smoked." a low, song-like voice explained. "Cigarettes, I think." There was a lost sadness in the voice.

It was the cyborg. The same lonely cyborg he had seen in the bar. In the dark, it was a shadowy giant - an outline of sharp steel points and designs, with a body designed to mimic an exaggeration of a military uniform. The cyborg was a stranger to him, and a hulk that could snap his back without a second moment's thought, but Laz was not frightened. It felt harmless. Pitiful. Could he truly feel pity for a being like this? Whatever was in its mind, it was a human granted long life in a body that would never falter. Laz could see that humanity in the slick monochrome metal of its eyes. There was life there, but it was not a powerful one.

"That was long ago." it said.

Laz didn't know what to day. He could feel the cyborgs physical presence next to him, and he looked up at the sky, at the IU station orbiting above them. It was so brighter than the stars, it gave out a halo of purple. Seeing space, so big and so distant, it boggled his mind to think he had been out there only a handful of days earlier. Some of those distant points of lights were planets. He had visited them, and saw them in in all their colors. The stormy eyes of Indra. The sullen darkness of Shiva and her twin. They were out there, far away. From here they were just specks.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a flag catch the air from a vent and flutter. It was pure red, the dark of the night giving it the hue of a bloodstain, with a proud black two-headed eagle dominating its center. It made him feel uncertain. He remembered old lectures about wars and occupations, about genocide in Persia and the first battles fought in space. That flag had a history. Who were these people, exactly? He had never truly been told by anyone what Dogpatch was about.

"Are these people Russian?" Laz asked.

The Cyborg was slow to answer. Laz looked up at him. He stood seven foot in height, and his shoulders were as broad as a warbot, but it didn't matter. It, he, looked irredeemably pathetic.

"No." he answered. "Why would it be?"

"That flag." Laz pointed up. The cyborg followed his hand like a dog studying where a toy had been thrown. "Putinate." Laz said. "And Captain Carpenter was wearing a Putinate coat."

"That is Carpenters quarters." the cyborg replied thoughtfully, spitting every word. "He collects."

"He collects?" Laz asked. The cyborg paused again. For ten seconds, there was nothing but a silence and the sounds of the night.

"Putinate memorabilia." the cyborg replied.

"A Russian named Carpenter?" Laz asked. Another pause. Laz was beginning to feel impatient. Should he ask it any more questions? The conversation could take all night if he did.

"His mother." The cyborg said. Laz got the gist of the answer and asked nothing more.

Laz put the cyborg out of his mind. He watched as three Tkrai warriors climbed the pit's cliff-face. They moved like cats with human minds. The Tkrai Laz had seen before, those that lived in the safe zone, were broken down. They tried, and some did better than others, but in Nai Kolkata and the cities of humanity, they were square pegs being forced into round holes. To see them in their element had changed the way he thought about them. In the jungles, they knew more than the humans. They moved through the branches with ease, and they knew how to use the landscape to their advantage. They knew how to own it. Laz's father had always insisted that they should "Just ship the Tkrai out of the safe zone and be done with them." It had always seemed so callous and cruel, to take their homes and force them into a place they did not know. This was the same lesson they taught in schools. The Turks against the Armenians, the Americans against the Cherokee, the Russians against the Turkmen, history was filled with this sort of story. Forced relocation that became genocide. There was no reason to think that it would go any better for the Tkrai.

Seeing them here now, however... seeing them in the unspoiled parts of the planet made him question that reasoning. This was where they belonged. They did not see the danger. The climbed along the walls and trees as gracefully as men moved along the ground. As one of the creatures lifted its leg, he saw the light glimmer off a polished Huile - a Tkrai shortbow. It was strapped to its shin in the same way that the shark-fin blades had been. It was an affection of the three dimensional way they fought, and they operated it with whatever limb was available. Laz the Tkrai aim down its leg, pull the mechanism with its second foot, and fire a bolt. A high twang resounded, and a fluttering bug fell from the sky. It had taken so little effort, aiming as fluidly as it climbed. Humans could not do that with their own weapons. Not with the grace that the Tkrai had.

The warriors made it a contest. Laz heard the twangs repeat, one after the other, like strings being plucked on an untuned guitar.

"I used to be Russian." the cyborg said unexpectedly. Laz watched it think. He watched the subtle twitches in its mercurial mask. It was struggling. What was happening struck Laz all at once, but the Cyborg said it before he could even consider whether or not to ask.

"Before the Slowness. I don't remember." it paused again. "I was Russian."

The Slowness. It was the horrifying last step in a Cyborgs life. Their bodies were repairable. Blood-pumps could be restored, limbs shined and oiled, but the human brain could never be replaced, nor could it ever be fully repaired. Philosophers had argued about the nature of the soul since the dawn of time. It if existed, it was in the organic matter of the brain and the unbroken chemical message that it carried. It could be born, and it could take damage. When the object was altered, patterns changed. Personalities faded, or evolved into something different from what was there before. But the consciousness was the same. Humanity had known this, it had been the basis of their concept of the soul since before written history, but it had been hard to understand as precisely as they had wanted. You could upload a persons personality onto a computerized drive, but you could not upload their consciousness. The copy would have its own consciousness. It was sensible when you considered what would happen if the upload did not involve the destruction of the original - once you turned on the new copy, consciousness could not be split. Somebody could not be two brains at once. We were stuck in our own bio-chemical system, and if somebody want to live forever they had to accept the sanctity of their own brain-matter.

But this caused a problem. Metal was not the natural host of the brain. It had to be suspended in fluid and kept separate from the mechanics that kept it alive, and kept its host active. There was, as the saying went, "Nothing perfect in this universe". Solvents and chips found their way into the barrier fluid, and occasionally they caused damage. This would have hardly been noticeable if a cyborg's lifespan was as limited as a humans, but this was not the case. Cyborgs could live for centuries, and a century's worth of damage started to add up.

This was the slowness. The human brain that seated its consciousness wore down. It took gradual damage until one day the cyborg was senile. Imperfection rendered them lost and stupid. This cyborg had probably been proud once, in some distant past. Now...

"I am sorry." Laz said. What else was there to say? He had never met a Cyborg before, and he had less experience with slow ones.

It paused again. It struggled. "I am too." it finally lamented.

There was a profound quiet. He looked at it, studying its face like a human's. Its mercurial silver was dull. Only smooth lines portrayed thought or expression, but there was an expression there. Laz could read it, as plain as if it were human. It studied the air. Was it searching for something to say? What did it know? Laz was struck by a thought, that this cyborg might able to answer his questions if he did not mind to wait. His thoughts immediately went back to Dr. Eury Florin. He had seen her in the Catina, aboard the Aro in a time and place desperately out of his reach. Surely she had been brought here. He had not seen her, but he knew she had been brought to Brahma. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Do you know anything about the prisoners?"

The cyborg looked at him. Was it suspicious? Confused? It was hard to say. Everything Laz read on its face was obscured by its malaise.

"You are a prisoner." the cyborg said, assuring itself. It took a moment to think, "You will be going to Kartago. All of you will be going to Kartago."

"There were others." Laz insisted. His heart pounded in his chest. Did he want to know.

"Others." the robot echoed. "Yes, others. I know now that there were others."

In this silence, Laz anchored himself to his question. This was what he would grab onto. Eury Florin. He hadn't loved her. She had just been a girl, another player in the cat-and-mouse game that was human sexuality. He hadn't loved her. He hadn't loved Kyla Kgosi, the daughter of the Aro's Captain, though he did miss the sum of her parts, and how the ebony gestalt looked in low midnight lighting. Any feelings he had for the woman he left back home, his sister-in-law, were hardly romantic either. He had thought of his youth in terms that the post-blog era writer Cayden Corlino had voiced during the second-sexual revolution of the late twenty-first century. "You are fun and we are young, and life ends too soon to worry about the rest."

He wanted to know because wanting to know would keep him sane. It was goal - a reason to live.

"I do not know their whereabouts." the cyborg completed its thought. "They don't inform me."

That was the first defeat. He felt it knot within him, and it strengthened his curiosity. He would find her. He would find Dr. Eurydike Florin. If he could find her, he could save her. And if he could save her, maybe he could save himself.

He felt the Tak kick in. Had it waited for this moment? His muscles loosened, days worth of tension melting like an stiff underlayer of skin. He stared northward, at the purple crown of Brahmapura where it lay above the twilight dark of the jungle canopy. It was brighter here, like a primeval god ascending the horizon. It put the sky around it in a state of permanent twilight, and the northern sky was an indigo canvas pierced by few stars.

Laz wondered where they had taken his pistol. He wondered where they had taken Dr. Florin. He suddenly realized that, in resolving to answer these questions, he no longer felt helpless.

[Dinh AaronMk]

Kangchai, Upper Quarter

The warm evening sun fell in through the windows, illuminating the extravagant dining hall in a soft warm glow. On the edge of the horizon the swirling halo that was Brahmapura danced in the clear skies like a foreboding beast rising up from some gate to Hell to devour the world humans now called home. But the languid silent beast – despite its size and dominance in the sky – was serene in its movement. Its own dancing and fluid skies tinted deep maroon and lavender from the low light as Epsilon Indi sank to meet the rising giant. In its darker currents, the storms that were the norm in its atmosphere flashed softly.

The evening light brought a soothing calm upon the city. High up the traffic thinned as workmen and trade from the surface and beyond fell silent. The automatic air taxis and mass transit shifting their focus to the mid quarter as returning work men made way to the bars on Lychee Avenue or Whiskey Street. Even the glimmering silver lights of the taxis and air cars rose up to the docking streets of the Upper Quarter, if infrequent.

Though in this hall, the interests were not being put towards the outside. But rather invested inward. Silent and fluid in formality shaved and straight-faced men went about duties in preparing the chamber for dining. Heavy curtains were drawn close across the windows to where only a bare sliver of golden light fought through. Glass and silverware was laid out on a small table for three, twinkling sharply in the overhead crystalline light.

Stepping to the side one of the black-suited servants stepped away from the table. He looked no different from the rest. Shaved bald, hairless. Identical features. As mute and refined in practice as the rest. He was a man without a face, even without eyebrows. A clone one of a thousand. Engineered just right. There was nothing to this man to differentiate him from the rest of humanity, but so little individuality that even amongst proper men he was an alien.

Set inlaid into the wall was a gilded computer terminal. Its screen holographic onto itself. It was crisp and it was pure. The projection infinitely deep in two-dimensional space. As if it were a window into a dimension all its own. It swirled and danced with clouds vibrant in color and depth as Brahmapura. And with a gesture of a white-gloved hand it was brushed aside, as if a god had summoned a wind to sweep it away.

The gloom dissipating symbols and icons arose from the gloom. Like fish rising out of a deep still pond. They rose up to the surface, pressing against the edge of cyberspace. With a practiced and trained hand the man pressed his finger down onto the display, activating with a chirp the sound of music. A soft breath rolled out of hidden speakers in the golden and marble corners to serenade the chamber.

The music was like a que, summoning out from the doors a cart laden with food alien and familiar to the human race. A silver platter with a honey glazed turkey, garnished with strange purple, spiky herbs. A dish of sweet aromatic nuts as large as a fist and woven with golden brown and green hues. A small bowl of fruit salad, and a nest of salad mixed from native Brahaman plant life and Earthly lettuce.

The smells of the food rose to the air in a sweet dance of sweet scents and glazed scents. Nothing was said as the food was carried out and the table was set. The men acting on almost robotic training. Nothing was said either as Mobuntui Hou stepped through the door. He smiled wide at the smell of food, and the sound of music.

“Our guests will be here in just a minute.” he said to no one in particular, walking around to the back of his chair, “And we make good progress.”

The waiters looked up at him, nodding silently. It was one of the few methods they had in impartial communication.

The last plate went down as a silver note chimed in the dining room, bringing Mobuntui's attention upright as he looked to the door. “Let him in.” he called out. A nearby servant bowed and reached out to the door, opening it. Letting it Cai Mi. Behind him Mary Dullard.

“Brother Mi!” Mobontui exclaimed loudly, holding out his arms as he walked across the room to meet the director, “And guest.” he smiled, bowing to Mary. “How have been today?”

“I have done well.” Mi smiled, “And I see the dinner arrangement was made.” he nodded, pointing to the table of food as the servants stepped back from their work.

“Yes, it is.” Mobontui grinned, “And from the smell I must say Quangxi did good, especially on such short notice. So, come on. Let's sit.” the executive offered. His steps were timed and well paced as he rounded the table, the guests following.

Mary Dullard regarded the spacious room with the decorative and polished marbled and limestone with a distant expression of awe tempering a disgust. To one who had seen living creatures and men living in tepid squalor, it was almost appalling that somewhere there were men who lived in gilded palaces up high.

There was no valid reason to keep Tkrai so low. They were just at capable at managing such wealth as man was. But she dare not express it. “So, I hear you like twentieth century music.” she said nervously as she took her seat.

“Well, not exclusively.” Mobuntui laughed, “But I do enjoy Pink Floyd from time to time. I must say that as an artist, Roger Waters is on par to the league of Mozart and Beethoven centuries before him. And I imagine they must have listened to them in much the same way we listen to his compositions now!” he said laughing softly, as the soft melodies of Us and Them and panned out.

“I am more pertinent to Mumford and Sons myself when it comes to classical.” Cai Mi added as he took his seat. “You listen to much of it?”

“I'm afraid I don't...” Mary said hesitantly.

“Well I imagine we're not here to talk about music.” Mobuntui laughed, “Help yourselves brothers, so we might proceed to the matter at hand.”

Mi nodded, “Certainly.” he said as he took utensils in hand, taking what he could of the food prepared in front of him.

“Oh by the way, try the fruit salad.” Mobuntui invited, “It's particularly fresh.”

“Oh, I will.” Mi chuckled, placing his fingers to the table and giving it a light spin. The turntable inside clicking softly as he turned the meal about.

“I gather you're looking to mount an expedition out across the mountains.” Mary said, starting the conversation, “At least that's what I'm getting out of Director Mi. Though, I do have to ask: why? We've ignored the region for so long what's with the sudden interest?” she asked.

“To cut it flat and straight,” Mobuntui began before Cai Mi could speak, “there's something in the area that we'd like.” Mary Dullard cut a cold hard stare against the executive officer now the truth was out. But Mobuntui wasn't blind to it. “But we're not blind to who's there.” he comforted.

“We're well aware there are tribes of Tkrai in the region. Quiet a few refugee groups from when our father's landed on this planet. I – we – merely wish to foster some relationship of mutual benefit. And we need expertise for that.”

“In what way?” Mary asked, she kept her plate empty as she leaned over the table.

“Well,” Mobuntui continued, taking a slice of turkey, “I don't wish to see our interests complicate the situation further. And if we're going to act in the area: then we do want peace. It's assuring to have peace, and if we can make that with the tribes and between the tribes then there won't be any more harm done. We might in the process enhance their quality of life.

“First and foremost, we do need to know what they want. And we need someone down there with a certain connection to the Tkrai. Or, an organization. As I am lead to believe you are a lady with connections?”

“I am.” Mary said, leaning back.

“Then why not use them to advance greater good.” Mobuntui smiled. Mi looked up from his plate. There was a subtle sliminess to it that he recognized. The same smile the directors gave to each other when making promises. It wasn't an implication of a lie, or a lie at all. But in his political experience, a holding out of information. He didn't suspect a little league woman from the Low Quarter would get the subtly.

But then again, Mary was cynical.

“It does come as a surprise to me that out of the blue Kangchai would care so much for the well being of the Tkrai. Or really, many of the politicians on this planet right now. After all, they're just rats with wings. Wasn't that said by one of your types before?” she offered aggressively. “So why the change of face?”

Mobuntui laughed, it was a soft polite laugh. Like hearing a joke. Not a particularly good one, but not terrible. “That's well and good.” the executive invited with a patient tone, “And probably true somewhere down the line. But not at where I'm linked to the chain.

“There are certain facts, complex facts I could talk about for well over a day about why we should do something like this. I'll be willing to reach a deal, all I need is your service as someone with connections, and a particularly well respected expert in this field.”

“What if I said I don't have a price?” Mary asked.

“Who said I'm bidding on you?” Mobuntui shrugged, spinning the table gently, “I can give it to the Tkrai of the Under Quarter. What do they want?”

“Just like that?” Mary asked, “And again, why the sudden interest?”

Mobuntui nodded, it was his turn to straighten his old back. “Because of one of the duties I have to Kangchai is the upholding of order within the city, the state.” he said, “And though I am perched high, I do have a good view of the Under Quarter. I do see what's going on down there. And if the protection of stability and safety for all the city's residents is part of my mission, then you must known more intimately than I do that Under Quarter is something of a powder keg. Hell, my predecessors did so wisely put it under our feet!” he added with a laugh, “I doubt any of us would want to loose our foundations. What do they need, want?”

Mary sat back, silent. She eyed the table full of food with suspicion, and hunger. “They could use higher raises.” she said, “Obviously... And they want to see Epsilon Indi. They want to see their sun again.”

“Doubly noted, both.” Mobuntui said, “This, and of course wage compensation for yourself. Maybe a donation to the foundation?”

“Maybe...” Mary nodded, “Maybe.” she repeated, biting her lip.

“Good. Good!” Mobuntui cheered. The light in his eyes suggested he had victory, “Then I will put this on paper.

“And if we're serious on this I would appreciate some numbers and information down. What exactly is needed. A bit of a census. We serious?” Mobuntui asked.

“I guess I'll humor you: yes. We are.” Mary nodded.

The Executive Officer nodded, clapping his hands together, “I will have this written on paper then. And I'll even sign it.” he said, shooting a look to his clone servants, “Just so we know I'm serious about this. You'll have my word, on writing.”

“So what are you going to do?” Mary asked.

“Well, I might have a few ideas but I'm not the one with the ultimate authority on this matter. Some of this may extend out to the council. So I'll need to put it by them. But I got a few ideas for a start, but the numbers will see how this end.

“So, Mrs. Dullard. How about that food? You haven't had a bite at all!

“I can even ask for some of that boxed up for you to take home as left overs if you want. I know I'll have enough to eat for the next couple days myself.”

[Vilageidiotx]

Dogpatch

"It is vital to this mission that I concentrate." he said, flicking switches and adjusting the cockpit. "I will be blocking out your sounds. Do not compete for my attention."

He flicked another switch and a smooth blue-green field of energy filled the windows. Their driver was a hulk of a man despite his Asian features. His arms, bared by his corrugate armor-grade plastic cuirass, were bulging to a degree that suggested genetic alteration. They were covered in tattoos. There were dragons, and symbols from the ancient languages of Asia. There were birds, there were daggers. There was a full-colored geisha on one shoulder, her kimono peeled to the waste and her breasts obscured by a unfolded fan. On the other shoulder, there was what looked like the silhouette of a gear tucked behind a banana. Laz had seen the symbol before, but he could not place it. The tattooed man's hair was long and braided so completely that it looked like dread locks.

"He's IU." Laz's nervous companion said. He nodded so rapidly when he talked that looked spastic. "Real IU. Yes. Not the bureaucracy guys. No. From space. From space. From a citadel. Yes."

"A citadel" Laz said. His mouth was dry. He hadn't expected to be taken by land, but the pirates insisted that this was less conspicuous. The attack on the IUSS had been an attack on an IU ship. It was news. The IU would be paying attention to Kartago now. They could keep a close eye on what moved through their spaceports and airports, but they had no eyes in the jungle.

"I bet you on Frankie Pallo's grave." the other prisoner nodded. "I bet you on Mozarts grave. I bet you on Elvis's grave. He is a citadel man. He escaped from a citadel. Yes."

"If you ran from a citadel..." Laz said. "This is the place you would go."

"Yes. Yes. I bet on Tupac's grave. Yes."

Stories about the Citadels belonged, as far a Laz new, in the realm of conspiracy theories and fiction. It was known there were massive battleships patrolling the edge of the system, but so little was known about them that their mystery bred wild stories. Popular knowledge claimed they were warrior cults, the children of the crew trained from birth so that they could replace their parents. Each citadel had its own identity. Some, it was said, built themselves around the image of the chivalric knight's of history. Others the Spartans, or the bushido Samurai. And then there were those who drew from fiction. Soldiers who saw themselves as demons, or as the Einherjar of Nordic myth. There were elf warriors from Tolkien's fantasy and Cazadors from the Precipice cycle. The most outlandish Laz ever heard was of a citadel where everyone dyed their skin green.

"Mhm..." Laz heard the other man still babbling. "...Captain Cornhole's grave."

They began to move, following the craft in front of them. Laz felt the vibration of the repulsors through the cushions. He could hear them too. Hovercars in the city rode smooth, and they hardly made a sound. This thing sputtered and spat. When it had started, Laz thought there was something wrong. He suspected that he was right. No machine in perfect working order should sound like this did. When they moved, it coughed. And when they began to move over the rough surfaces of the Brahman jungle, he felt it.

"Where did they pick you up? Mhm?" the other prisoner asked. He stuck his hand out awkwardly. "Kessler Reyes. Friends call me Kess."

Laz shook his hand. "Lazarus Paladino. Laz. And I was on the Aro."

"Aro." Kess whislted. "Yes. IU ship that one. You are IU?"

"Yes. Airguard. I got transferred to Spaceguard eight months ago."

"Ooh, poor guy you. Poor guy. You people had to kill the monster."

"Yes." Laz looked at him. "You didn't have to do anything?"

"No." he shook his head. "No no. I'm a Bucket Boy, guy. I didn't have to do anything."

"The Bucket. The satellite?" Laz said. "I haven't met one of you. I thought you guys never left?"

"Some do." he replied. "I had to. It wasn't my type of life. I like gravity. I mean, I didn't like gravity when I first got it. The heavy part. Up there, we call the outside world 'Gravity.' I like the stuff to do, and all the people you get to see. It was hard having weight at first. We take the shots, we have the bodies to survive it, but it is hard to get used to."

They hit a bump. Laz umphed. "You are all like monks up there, right? Living for the music..."

"No no." Kess replied. "There is not as much work as you'd think. We clean disks. Mix tracks. The rest of the time was like a slow party." he paused for a moment. "And we had girls up there, you know. We did. We do. We had sex."

"I know." Laz said. They hit a bump.

"We used to call it 'The Satellite of Love' " Kess snorted. Laz forced a grin.

"Did you listen?" Kess asked.

"Yes. Of course. I think most people do."

"The sacred tunes of old earth." Kess inhaled. "I swear on Louis Armstrong's grave, we did the most important work in the universe."

"Do you miss it?" Laz asked.

"Yes." Kess nodded. "Yes. It was better than being a prisoner. Yes. I shouldn't have left."

The convoy moved into the wild. Here, their Tkrai could guide them over the thick trunks that webbed across the understory of jungle. He could see glimpses of them, skipping across the canopy as elegantly as men walked on the ground. This place was not like the Mango groves that grew outside of Nai Kolkata. The plantlife here could be strong in ways that were almost geological. The largest were the bulbous fungi growths. They looked like exaggerated coral, branching out so far and growing so tall that one could dominate entire square kilometers of jungle. They were white, and beige, and pink and blue. Some arms reached into the ground, and they began to knitted together near the core so that they created a wicker wall around their main trunk. Others were stubby and round, but they were as thick as rock formations. In their centers, their flesh was long dead and petrified.

The layers of jungle intertwined and wove together, contrasting vegetation twisting and melding with one another. There were leaves and vines and puffy growths, and though their colors varied the gestalt seemed to vary between turquoise and lilac. Patches of phosphorescence grew on fungal trunks and twinkled in the shadows. Laz could still feel the life here. It was a force on its own, and it felt heavy. It felt dangerous.

Most of the hovercars were armed. Some had turrets mounted on top of the crude frames outlining their bodies. Others had sonic-dishes. There was a mix of models in the convoy, some old enough that they could have been manufactured on earth. They looked like platforms with makeshift cabins constructed on top, and they had been dented and dinged from years of use. Laz recognized a several of the models. Most of them weren't made for combat. There were joyriders, and delivery skiffs and food rafts, and they all had been converted by the pirates.

Laz watched the landscape go by. He watched the Tkrai nervously. They were armed. It was not just the ankle and wrist mounted medieval weapons that he had seen them with before. Some of them had railguns strapped to their backs. Others had rocket launchers and plasma throwers. It was strange, seeing armed Tkrai. Laz wondered where they had got their weapons. Was Kartago arming the Tkrai? The IU would surely know about that. What did it mean? The fear caught up with him. He was a prisoner. How did they treat their captives? He was being shanghaied, forced into their military. Would he get away? Would he escape? It felt like his stomach was trying to come up through his neck. This was no use. He had to calm down. He had to think.

Eury. Where was she? He had vowed to make that his singular mission here. He would find this out. Everything else was secondary.

Laz heard a familiar sound. It was like the air near his ears had taken a massive gulp. An ultrasonic cannon. He looked behind and saw the bowls swivel on their mounts. Another pulse. He was prepared for this one. He could see that they were tracking something through the sky, and he looked up to see what it was.

A shadow passed over, blotting out the sun like a cloud. The jungle obscured the light. Laz saw it. A black shape through gaps in the canopy. A Mayura.

"Shit, man!" Kess shouted. "What by Yeezy's grave is that?"

"Mayura." Laz mouthed. He watched it intently, looking for any sign that it would swoop, but he couldn't see it in any detail. Did they behave differently down here? Were these a different species all together?

"It can't get us through the woods. It can't." Kess chanted. His voice shook, more now than it had before.

"Yes." Laz said. He was intent on the bird. If it came down, if it could rip through the canopy, it would easily take a hovercar with it. He suddenly realized that the pirates had not sounded off against it for a few minutes, and he knew what they were doing. They had seen signs. They knew it was going to come down.

The Mayura roared. Its voice shook them and caused their sound-blocking field to flicker. Laz looked at their driver's face. He was serene. Calm. His eyes were fixed on the sky, braids hanging around his face. No movement. He looked like a predator waiting to pounce.

There was another roar, and then a whirlwind. Cracking, splintering, exploding. It all happened at once. Laz realized where they were, on a thickened branch several dozen feet from the ground. Delicately balanced and ready to fall. To one side, the jungle was in cataclysm. It was coming closer, and like a tornado it was creating a cloud of debris behind it. Instinctively, Laz prepared himself for impact. And then the volley.

It ended all at once. Not in a hail of gunfire, but rather in a sound like thunder drowned in a deep cenote. The attack ended. Roaring destruction swept out of the jungle. The Mayura had retreated. Laz realized very suddenly that his head was in his lap. He was trembling. It was one thing to fight a Mayura with your hand on the trigger. It was another to have no control.

The silence was potent. Laz looked at Kess, the Bucket Brother curled into himself in the corner of his seat. He had never seen a Mayura before. As far as Laz could tell, he hadn't been able to see it this time either. Laz never did. Laz looked at the pilot. He sat in the same position he had been in when the attack started. He had not moved. Laz believed what Kess had said before. This man had escaped from a Citadel. He was exactly what Laz expected a Citadel warrior to look like.

They continued through the jungle quietly. As evening came, the glow of Brahmapura brightened the northern sky like a second sun. When they were high enough in the canopy of the forest, Laz could see it poking over the wilderness. Laz was unsure what they would do that night, but that question answered itself. They came over a rise created by a wall of solid rock following the landscape like a titanic snake. Once over its spine, he saw it. A white tower stood above the jungle. Parts of it were in disrepair, an the plant-life within were overspilling their bounds. It was a skyscrape that opened to the world, its structure like the tapering mouths of conch-shells stacked one on top of the other so that each level had one side entirely in the open air. Laz recognized what he was looking at instantly. It was a sanctuary to the people of the Edenic cult. An Edenite spiritual site. And it had been abandoned.

The caravan wormed down from the arms of the forest, following branches that looked as if they had been trained to reach down like some sort of biological infrastructure. They were soon in a valley cut by a small stream. Water trickled down from the walls, cutting rivulets across the land. Some of them flowed with liquids other than water. They carried instead the sweat and waste of the jungle's fungal colonies. In the rising dominance of Brahmapura's pink light, those ones caught a rainbow sheen and glittered.

As the cliffs rose, Laz saw that something geometric about the rock. He struggled to focus in the dark. As he made out where lines connected and what shapes they formed, he held his breath. There were forms carve out of the stone. They were deliberate, and they were not human. Standing dozens of feet tall and popping from the rock in complex detail, there were several Tkrai forms. They all held up a single pelt from some creature Laz could not identify. The monument, it seemed, was honoring a successful hunt. He reached over to show it to Kess, but the Bucket Brother was asleep. He left him be.

The Edenite tower came into view when they turned a corner. It was framed by the semi-circle rise of Brahmapura peaking over the horizon and dominating the night sky. The caravan began to slow, and he realized that this is where they were stopping for the night.

[Dinh AaronMk]

Kangchai

The meal had been packed away and the food eaten. The smell lingered in the air with the soft melancholy notes of music. Mary had left, uncomfortably thanking the two executives for the meal, stealing off with a left over box Mobuntui Hou had insisted she take with her. And now even the identical servants had departed for elsewhere in the cavernous house to attend to other things. What these were Mi didn't claim to care about, neither did his superior.

Now the shades were pulled open to afford a view to the sinkhole city outside. With the lights dimmed they partook in watching the grand theater of the city outside from the comfort of the dining table, hot cups of steaming tea in hand, home made.

The multitude of stars that claimed the sky had largely disappeared in the wash of pearly white light that gleamed out of the city's crater. Streaks of white darted regularly into view and out again as night-time traffic took on a regular beat to and fro the lower quarters. Midway down the halcyon rainbow of neon lights glowed with a fierce fiery light as the party districts of the middle quarter burned with night life. By now the flow of new-world vodka and experimental wines would be flowing for the working class and the affluent people like a boozy river. And though muted by the orchestral workings of Chopin the electrical beat and hard industrial rhythms of modern popular music would no doubt by audible this high up, if it weren't for the thick glass that separated the two officers from the world outside.

“So do you think she'll stick to it?” Mi asked, sipping his glass. He watched the city outside with an indifferent expression on his face. He noted the intricate dance of the lights. And the thin golden and sapphire sheen that cooked off the night-time atmosphere of Brahamapura gathering and refracting the delicate light of Epsilon Indi. In more rural environments he suspected the aural lights in the atmosphere would be magnificent tonight, multicolored ribbons of light pulled from Moses's own multicolored coat.

“Money talks.” Mobuntui said, “I no doubt she ignored the promise. I'm basically funding the next five years for her, at current levels.”

“But is it enough?” Mi asked.

Mobuntui shrugged, “Welfare's a drug.” in replied indifferently, “Once people get a taste of some new subside for their life they cling to it. They'll do whatever it takes to keep it. They cease to call their methods 'work' and instead opt for something more noble: crusading, petitioning, campaigning.

“If Kangchai were any different we'd have a lot more stronger special interest groups. No doubt about that.”

“Would we really?” his inferior asked.

“Look back at turn of the century America. When they finally got some shadow of national healthcare. That there created a whole demographic of single-issue voters. People who will only go to the polls to protect their dearest institution. It's all over the worldly democracies of the 20th and 21st century.

“Thing is, it's also why we are as we are: democracy as a workable institution is lazy. The people it relies to work on will never commit the whole way until there's an issue that deeply effects them: welfare for instance. They don't know anything else, and they're too lazy to fully understand.

“That's why you reinvest that all into those who do know what's going on. People who know the flow of money. It's not greed. It's simply refining the system and making it effective.”

“I understand, I'm part of it.” laughed Mi.

“That I fear is what a lot of people like to say. But I think the only other man who really understands is Hou Tsieng. He's more than old enough to have the scope of reference and of knowledge.

“But enough about political and philosophical musings, we have Mary Dullard in our pockets and for the most park the Tkrai Advocacy Foundation. So great drafter of this plan, what's your next move?”

“We move her out as soon as possible.” Cai Mi said, “We organize a research group - let her pick the researchers - and we guard them; we pick their guards. You no doubt know the right people better than I do.”

“Right. Cixi Xu. EO captain, old bastard like Tsieng, just as full of metal himself. I'll talk to him and get him to organize a party to go out and put him command. He'll love the action, hasn't seen any since The Listeners.”

“That'll move fast then.” Ci nodded, stroking his chin, “The pieces for that will fall into place when we're there. We'll worry about that when it comes.”

“And now the diplomatic aspect.” Hou interrupted, “Before you say anything on it I've made up my mind: you're the one to go in and do it.”

Ci leaned back in his chair, lowering his cup of tea as he looked next to him flabbergasted. “Why me?” he asked.

“Because you're the grand designer.” Hou laughed, “And I know you have extensive experience with the outside given your father's business. He operated with a lot of the manufacturers in the Southern Cities and if I remember you were his key salesman.”

The realization lit his eyes. He felt the brightness of where the Executive Officer shine like the moonlight of a clear night. “That's right.” he said, his voice heavy with remembrance. He could still have the old contacts. And he has a better knowledge of the surrounding city state's business law than anyone else in Kangchai.

“And there's another thing too.” Hou said with a stiffened tone, leaning on the table. He shifted over like he was to tell Mi a great secret. “I don't doubt there's a lot of jealousy here at home. It'd be advantageous here at home if you weren't present. It'd keep the play of the factions from reaching you. Dare you need reminded about the Kgosi family?

“And you can still operate your affairs from a distance. And there's nothing I'm sure that's illegal for an executive to work both for his own interests and that of The Directors at the same time. It's the sort of politics this city is built on.

“I have faith in you, Cai Mi.” Hou added, his tone was hard and heavy like a father's, “And you're a strong man. I'm giving you the chance to do two things at once: save yourself, and save the city. You game?”

Mi nodded, chewing on his lips, “I guess so.” he said nervously, “When do you want me to start?”

“Shortly.” he said, “I don't have full authority on this but I'll put it in for a meeting of the Directors to make the vote. I'll try to get Tsieng on it too, convince him somehow. If there's anyone in it stronger than I it's him; he can get away with murder if he wants.