The room I was assigned as guest quarters aboard the ship was towards the aft section, above the reactor core compartment, and just off of the aft mess hall. Iridian ships were always about form over function and this was no exception. I looked at my quarters with a soft sigh, I could finally relax, take count of my situation, and plan my next course of action. I look to the foot of the bed and find a footlocker. Inside is all of the gear they found next to my cryochamber. My guns, vest, outfit, and ammunition. I dig into my vest pockets and find a gold locket with platinum-gilded engravings as well as an old note with some dried blood on it. Sighing in relief, I slipped the bauble into my cleavage before flopping onto the bed to think.

The last few hours have been swirling around in my head, my mind piecing it all together. It was a relief that I managed to get at least somewhat lucky, but the universe decided my luck had to run out eventually in some fashion. All that remained was to see how I can extract an ally from this set of circumstances. They showed great trust in me by giving me my weapons, so it was clear they had a baseline to give me said trust. I need allies, so my first step should be to try to work with them. Assassinating the high matron was not a big deal, but I need to speak with Matron Farsa first. It was clear she is in charge around here.

After all of these thoughts pass through my conscious, I decide it is time I get some rest to let my mind go over it in my subconscious. But first, i needed a shower to clear my head and relax. Sitting up and dragging myself over to the edge of the bed, I stand. Immediately walking into the bathroom to wash my face. After splashing water on my cheeks, I look up at myself in the mirror. It is then I get a look at my face. Incredibly attractive by human standards. With waist-length, straight black hair, Alabaster-color, flawless skin, thin feminine lips, and a defined, thin nose with a soft, rounded jawline that cuts into my chin softly, Framing a pair of striking, electric-blue eyes that gave away my non-humanity. No doubt a side-effect of the mutation process that made me a Chimera. After looking at myself in the mirror for a few moments, I find a towel on the counter next to the sink bowl and dry my face off. It had been a while since I last had the leisure to relax like this in a safe location. My nerves were slowly coming down off of the adrenaline spike I had during that encounter at the Hotel.

It is then my face contorts in thought at the memory of that day. I was on the run from the Terran Federation for assassinating a human general. Moldsyava, I think they called him? After a ruminating sigh on leaving the bathroom, I flop back down on the bed. As my head hits the pillow and my eyes shut, the hum of the ship’s reactor lulls my consciousness to sleep with the quiet humming below me. The tiny vibrations only helped coax me to slumber.

***

I find myself on a rusty old shuttle with a grizzled, old pilot and a sketchy flight engineer. The former was at least 190 centimeters tall with a husky build and had a small stubble on his face with weathered facial features and chestnut brown eyes. His partner was clean-shaven and looked 10 years younger, with a head of blonde hair and blue eyes with a height around the same but a more stocky build. I was waiting on the cargo deck, and decide to ask the pilot over the intercom, pressing the button on the touchscreen display next to it. “so when are we getting to the ‘Wealthies?”

“Very soon, is a long jump to Centauri missy! You let Viktor fly and we will make it, Da?” the man’s thick Russian accent shone through him as he gave the answer, and Kara mentally prepared for a long sleep in cryostasis. Considering how old this bucket of bolts they were entrusting their life to was, it is reasonable it is slow, likely a pre-war shuttle with a lot of jury-rigged fixes in the absence of spare parts due to being around for a century and new models likely having came out.

“How long until we make the jump?”

The man cackles, and replies “Very soon, very soon! Vasily! Spool the Grav-Drive!”

“Da, Kapitan!” his flight engineer, assumingly named Vasily, exclaimed, his voice audible from the intercom.

I moved to the cockpit of the shuttle to watch them work. When I make it to the cockpit space, Vasily claps his hands together and exclaims “Khoroshiy! The flight computer is programmed. We should get to Cryo, Da?” Vasily glances back at me, as I nod slowly in agreement “You go first Vasily, I should run one final chart retrieval before we hit an asteroid on our way out.”

The low, dull thrum of the Grav-Drive spooling up reverberates in the shuttle’s hull, and I look to the pilot, who seems to know what I was thinking instantly, that this shuttle is a death trap. He laughs heartily and reassures me “Do not worry, Grav-Drive is fine! Jump in 5 minutes!”.

I purse my lips and walk to the back of the shuttle to the cargo hold, where three cryogenic pods were positioned under a floor panel, which was off to expose the cryo pods. These were seasoned smugglers who also dealt in intelligent, living goods as well. Some of these may have been questionable or outright illicit dealings. But I had paid them well and Ramon trusted them, so after resigning myself, I started to climb into the middle pod, and using one of the touchscreens on the interior wall, I started the cryogenic sequence of the pod. The air got colder and colder over the next few minutes, and my vision faded gradually. I draw my last breath in Sol just as my lips frost over and consciousness fades to black as I clutch the dog tags around my neck as a voice calls “Kara…! Kara…! KARA!!”

***

I open my eyes suddenly, and a blinding white light assaults my pupils. I bolt upright in my bed and a gentle hand coaxes me to lay back down. Eventually, my eyes adjust and Farsa is at my bedside with one of her servants. It occurred to me that I felt quite soaked all over my body. My clothes are drenched in sweat. “Are you alright??” Farsa is sitting on my bedside with a genuine, concerned look on her face, she is resting a hand on my shoulder, likely having tried to shake me awake.

“thank the stars! You were thrashing about so violently.” she looks to the servant girl “Idris! Get some fresh clothes and some tea.” the servant girl, who I know now as Idris, gives a bow of her head “at once, mistress!” she leaves, and Farsa follows the girl out of the room before turning to me “you were having a nightmare, weren’t you?”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I sigh exasperatedly and half-lid my eyes to compose myself. “Yes.. it has been a recurring dream for some time.. But each time it is a different experience that I relive from the war.” I trail off, my mind going to darker places.

I feel Farsa’s hand on mine “you do not have to tell me what you went through, Kara. but I can see from how violently you were tossing and turning that it was quite an intense memory you were reliving.” she sighs softly, and my face contorts into a confused look.

Why is she being so nice to me? What changed this one particular Iridian to bring her out of her usual habits? “Can I ask you something, Farsa?” I work up the courage to ask what had been in the back of my mind for the past 34 hours or so. “Why have you decided to ask me for help instead of forcing me to do it? Why not use coercion?” I tilt my head at Farsa curiously as she lifts a single thin, teal-colored eyebrow.

In response, Farsa smiles and responds “Because Iridians need to change. We have made so many enemies in the Galaxy, and we are not strong enough to fight all of them. If we stay on the path we are on, then all that awaits is our extinction at the hands of a more powerful species, like humanity.” Farsa sighs softly in exasperation and her countenance changes from genuine worry to one of hope “but I can start by changing my own ways and setting an example - that is why. I might be the sister of the former high matron, but my name carries weight among Iridian society still. I have friends in many powerful houses who have been quietly planning to overthrow the currently sitting matron and replace her current government.”

I blink slowly at Farsa, formulating a response “so a Rebellion?” I respond plainly, deadpan.

“Yes, in a way. We have tried to deliver this reality to her, but she has refused time and time again to set an example for the rest of Iridian society.” she pauses, choosing her next words carefully “and I for one will not allow the Iridian people to march to extinction under the current ways.”

My thin black brow over my left eyebrow raises, and I lean back in my bed in thought.. “So you intend to reform Iridian society?” after a pause, I continue “and you have not answered my question, why have you been so accommodating to me instead of coercing me into doing your bidding?” I ask the same question of her. Obviously she cares deeply for her own people, but why is she treating me, a human, so well?

Farsa smiled at my inquiry gently before answering. “Kara, it is as I said, Iridians need to change. We do not need more enemies. I need allies, and obviously you do as well. I can help you and in return I ask you to help me. Now then, you must rest now. You will do your part when the time comes.For now I have some things I believe I can teach you in the meantime. Do you know about Iridian society at all?”

I shake my head in reply slowly. “I do not know the customs. Why?” I squint at Farsa. She smiles at me and settles into a seat. I use my legs to push myself up further to prop my back on the headboard of the bed to listen to her. “My dear, Iridian society is rife with customs that allow one to tell when the other is telling the truth or not. It is very similar to human’s ‘body language’ but with actions instead of natural responses.”

Farsa continues to explain “to walk among Iridians, you need to learn our customs and our way of life. That said, I can teach you how to interact with our nobility and how to address certain people.” I blink slowly “You mean I have to learn that? I thought it was simple.” Farsa shakes her head “I wish it was.” she folds her right leg over her left thigh with a sigh, and continues “Unfortunately Iridians have a caste system. The lower on that caste hierarchy you are, the less authority you command. Higher castes are the matrons and other leading members of the noble houses. as you are aware we do not have men in our society, so we marry into other species’ families to reproduce or we use technological means of reproduction. The former is often used to further an iridian’s goals, while the latter is a means to propagating our species.”

Farsa pauses and continues, looking at me as if gauging my reaction. “I would be known by my title, first matron. Formal acknowledgment is ‘Mistress’. You address the high matron as ‘Excellency’ or ‘Your Highness’. Her children would be addressed as Mistress as well. Members of castes below these positions take different titles. One such one is Ahwe, which translates roughly to ‘good friend’ for humans, but to an Iridian, it means more than that. It is a word that invokes that you trust a person unconditionally.”

I nod along, listening as she continues to explain. “My servants are part of the fifth caste, the worker caste. This includes servants, housekeepers, nannies, laborers, et cetera. The fourth caste is skilled workers such as manufacturers of complex goods. The third caste is the mercantile and civics caste, businesswomen and civil servants. The second caste is military and the first caste is nobility. The high matron belongs to no caste and is to do as she sees fit. There are rules on how each caste interacts with the other and tradition puts the high matron as the great mediator between the castes.”

I nod in understanding “So if I am to work with you, what would my place be?” Farsa hums thoughtfully at that, and she twirls a lock of her teal-blue hair between two of her fingers. “You would be an outsider I recognize as trustworthy.. The word we use for that is Ahtswa.. Or ‘trusted one’.

Farsa stands and sighs “Rest now, we can talk more later about this.” she heads for the door as I settle back in for sleep. “And Kara?” she smiles before the door threshold as I lift an eyebrow at the Iridian. “It is good that you do not trust me at my word, you ought to keep that sort of trait when you walk among my people. If not for your humanity you’d make a very good Iridian indeed.” and with that, she departs.