7243

CROSS

Cross showed Alex the galaxy—he flew through space like a bullet aimed straight for one of Sayar’s neighboring planets, Galdon. This was the home planet of the secretive Yeltian clan. “Yeltians are very isolated beings, only making home to well-hidden provinces where they can keep to themselves,” He tells Alex.

“Why is that?” She asks back.

“They’re actually going extinct. The species is predominantly male, and there’s been a movement over the last few thousand years separating what female Yeltians there are now due to unfair living conditions.”

“They’d sacrifice their species’ well-being to make a point?”

“No, of course not. That’d be idiotic. Male Yeltians are proud beasts. They drove them out. If there wasn’t the imminent threat of extinction I’m sure they’d be at war right now.”

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“Huh...that’s crazy.”

“Hm?”

“I wonder what’s gotten them so mad that they can’t just talk to each other.”

“History is a troublesome thing, and their problems lie deep within their history. So there of course it two sides to their problem.” Cross surveys a high mountain top as he slows his descent, landing on the surface, looking out toward the distance.

“I guess that’s kind of like what humans are like.”

“Yeah?” Cross has his hand as a visor to block out the harsh Galdon sun. “Blasted place is like Nastor,” he gripes quietly.

“Yeah, what I learned in school always differed to what I was reading. America was always the best and whatnot.”

“Your America interests me. I’d like to learn more about it, care to share some more?” He asks.

“Oh, it’s not that great.”

“Well, you’re from it,” He feels her blush inside him. He smiles as he takes off, he’s found his destination—a mine built into the side of a Galdon mountain. A Queoquartzite quarry. He sighs a desperate sound. Thank God.