Twenty paper notebooks. Check.

My father’s functioning voice recorder. Check.

Memory recording device from the Archives. Check.

Handful of pens. Check.

Plenty of pure water for me and guest. Check.

I was sure that I had everything. Things looked good that next morning, I smiled without worry for the first time since arriving. I had a job to do, and I take my interviews seriously.

It was an hour later that I began to worry that Jaruka had not shown up and Ketho and Mr. Dunne went out to find him. I understood that he lived at a site in a dropship of some sort.

I waited for another hour, staring at the door, and eating my remaining protein cakes. I wished I had some fruits or root veggies, but customs is stringent these days. Terra Firma wine interested me still, but I had five hours left for my nanites to settle in my system. Waiting never agrees with me.

Half an hour passed by. What’s taking them so long?

My run-ins with Halcunacs have become less and less frequent in the past decade. You’ve heard of their Trade and Traveler Embargo, I suppose? Oh right, humans and terrans are reading this too. In short they restricted their own people from leaving Viro outside of special circumstances. Trade with neighboring worlds became infrequent every month, visitation rights from other worlds were restricted, and that was within seven years. Halcunacs are a superstitious species; it is a mystery their magical customs slowly dwindled in importance. The plant-animal hybrid magical species, quite rare in the galaxy, lost communes with their planet’s living deity. The culture’s clan leaders and politicians, including Galactic Councilman Rajda Algon, swore an oath of silence explaining why outside their planet, and all further learning lead to dead ends.

I wanted to know—besides Terra Firma’s predicament—why his people were acting this way. Face it, this is the first Halcunac to ever make a serious, if not a political, problem with the Protection Act. If there weren’t any answers, those rumors of Viro pulling out of the Republic could become true.

Another hour passed with me scribbling a few theories into my notebook on so many theories. I was ready to throw my notebook as the door was kicked wide open hitting the wall.

“Found him,” Ketho said. “It wasn’t easy getting in the ship, but luckily, Denverbay gave me the shield’s override codes. We found him passed out in a corner hugging an unmarked hooch bottle.”

Ketho and Scott held Jaruka up by his arms, his legs dragged behind him. Long, unshaved and wooly wood-like skindreads hid his face.

“Ketho, please knock! I almost hit you!” I put my notebook down on the table. “What do you mean passed out?”

They came in and dropped the Halcunac on the floor like bad-butchered meat. Scott gasped for air and said, “Friggin’ hell, I think he gained some weight.”

“Terran strength. Still human after all,” Ketho said. “Rare enough to see his kind way out here.”

“Kind?” I asked.

“No honor dread.” Ketho pointed at the exposed stump behind Jaruka’s head. “This guy’s dry. Except for what he drank.”

“Honor dread?” Scott asked.

That was interesting at the least. The stump was healed, but it had to have been sliced or burned off. So barbaric for his people, what kind of sick person did that?

“He’s been like this since?” I asked.

“Yeah. Jaruka’s been depressed ever since he parked that ship next to the lake. It’s tough watching him but what else can we do? He refuses help, especially from Katie.”

Jaruka snorted, full of backed up mucus, but was still asleep.

“I think I can handle this,” I said.

“You sure?” Ketho asked.

“I’m sure. I have stuff to help clear his mind.”

Ketho snapped her real fingers. “Right, the daughter of a witch doctor.” That estranged tone made it sound that my great grandfather was a criminal.

“Don’t take it that way. I’ll handle the rest.”

Scott seemed eager to leave the room after Ketho. She then closed the door. I knew male Halcunacs have short tempers, but there are ways to quell them. Medicinally.

Jaruka did not move as I worked on a remedy passed down in the family; my deadbeat pharmacist great grandfather. I heard he was great, until the economy collapsed. I was fortunate enough to bring the ingredients. Customs was stringent on the ingredients, but they were given orders, from Denverbay himself, to let them pass. Maybe that’s why he hired me. A careful measurement of poisonous calzi tree leaves soaked in a brine to remove the poison, hanged to dry, then ground into a powder, the other ingredients were a family secret.

I added them all to a wood bowl then set it aflame with my magic and energetic words of calm, comfort and rejuvenation. The smoke slithered in the bowl like cloudy water.

I had to turn Jaruka over on his back. Thanks, Ketho.

I brushed Jaruka’s dreads aside. For being a Halcunac, he looked rather handsome. He had a strong jawline and his green skin looked a bit lighter. “Don’t fail me, leaves,” I said as I held the bowl up. I said another chant and the smoke flowed into Jaruka’s open mouth, then I quickly backed away. It’s hard to tell if it works immediately, in a few minutes, or not at all.

Jaruka gasped and his body shook violently. He got on all fours and coughed and spit, cursing in his language. Each of his dreads ground against themselves like sandpaper. Most Halcunacs hate the Zimmi Hangover Cure, but at least Jaruka did not attack me immediately.

He sat up—still on the floor—and pulled his dreads back out of his face. His eyes were black with a gold iris. “What the…Who?” He spotted me with the bowl in a corner and the nervousness in me subsided as Jaruka slouched.

“Great,” he said through my universal translator. “Denverbay send a Zimmi witch doctor as my replacement.” He wore a universal translator too, hopefully turned on.

“Um…No. I’m no witch doctor.”

“No? I begged for one and I got…who are you?” The translator was on, thank goodness.

“Xi’Tra Zader Khu II from RNN.”

Jaruka gave an uncaring laugh. “Come on. What’s a guy got to do for some relief?” He rubbed his face and growled.

Halcunacs have high standards of dress. Jaruka looked like he had been pulled off of Creos’ dingy parts of the capitol stations. Those had better be drink stains on his shorts.

That struck me. Halcunacs never act drunk and useless, it might have been a side effect of losing an honor dread. I would need to research that.

Jaruka looked at me again. “But I did remember something about a reporter.”

“Uh, yes, yes I am. I’m here to collect stories for the Archives, and interview you and the couple.”

“I have a partner in this mess? Now I have someone to pin the work on.” He stood on his bare, three-toed feet. Jaruka is tall as any average Halcunac, but with the added dread growth being a shabby tree fit.

“Um…no. I was told that you are collecting stories for me to retrieve.”

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Jaruka rubbed his neck. “See these eye rings? I keep drinking to pull myself out of this nightmare.” He took the second chair at the desk and sat, slumping, elbow on table and hand on face. “So, dunderhead Denverbay put you up to this?” He asked.

“He hired me,” I said approaching the table.

“Sorry. But will this get me off this rock, like tomorrow?”

I shook my head slowly. “I’m not entirely sure it will.”

Jaruka grunted.

I sat down across from him. “Mr. Teal, I came here to interview you of what happened, and hoping you can tell why…”

“Look, before we start, get this straight,” he interrupted me. “I know reporters. They want to know about Viro, I get it. I know nothing since I ‘arrived’ here. You start asking, I’ll start walking. Please, don’t.”

So much for that, although I knew already that it would have been a waste of my time.

“I understand. The politics on Viro are becoming heated recently.”

“Like nonexistent. Keep it that way, reporter.”

I crossed my arms. “I do have a name. Xi’Tra Zader Khu II.”

Jaruka slowly looked up, becoming sober in a second. “Xi’Tra?” He said. “The Legend?”

I nodded, smiling, proud that someone in the galaxy remembered my father.

Jaruka formed a short smirk. “Small galaxy. Explains the familiar suit. Hope you have the balls to stay here. By the way, stay the crog away from these human fast food joints. Chemicals all over before entering those buildings.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. I wonder if high-end dining is a thing on Terra Firma, like a bug stand.

“Question is where to start,” he said.

“I was thinking day one as starters. I like to go chronologically on current events.”

That’s when I noticed his hands balling in fists.

“Alright, fair enough. I’ll play Denverbay’s sadistic game.”

“I’m not…”

Jaruka raised his hand. “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you exactly what happened. Be sure to run when I start throwing stuff.”

I’ve dealt with more problematic people than Jaruka, but considering his level of anger, he seemed to cooperate. I think he wanted to share his story, others I don’t think he could have been forced to do so.

“Shall we start?” I asked. Jaruka nodded, but I didn’t expect that he would put on memory-recording device’s halo around his head.

“Um…”

“I know how this goes. Done over twenty of these routine memory recordings,” he said.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” I did care, but I managed to speak indifferently as I calibrated the borrowed tech.

I opened a paper notebook and said, “So before the Wave, did you visit this solar system be…”

“Ever heard of Benali Zanos?” He interrupted me again.

“Who?”

“Gnogal supernatural scientist? Short bastard like that night stand? Ring any bells in journalism?”

The square machine dinged and stored an image. I’m an investigative reporter and he expected me to know this stuff, but I didn’t, and I felt like I was pushing me like Ketho did. Typical Halcunac, always getting out the point and moving on. It’s a no brainer they hate today’s media.

I took a breather and said, “I know you are frustrated, but I have a job to do, not be pushed around. Please, for the sake of my gods, let me ask the questions and you answer them. One thing at a time.”

“The faster I do this, the less time I worry about the people camped around my ship.

“I heard,” I acknowledged.

“I mean really tough. This city, Porter, the FBI, CIA, EPA idiots, and others.”

“You’re rambling.”

Jaruka closed his eyes and rubbed his face. “No, I have not been to this solar system. Ever.”

The machine pinged again.

“Good,” I said. “But, you’re probably right. We can start from the beginning.”

“Good, because you’ll need to remember this,” he said with hard eyes. “And I mean remember.”

----------------------------------------

Three months before The Wave…

October 15, 2012, Terra Firma Time

Creos, Maji Bay, Larada fishing village

I can say, on record, this mess I’m in, started with three knocks on my airlock.

I miss the Lunar Spear. Oh right, you don’t know that. It was my ship, before it was shot down, split in half, and chopped into pieces. I’ll tell you about it later.

Those knocks woke me up and I snorted through my pillow and blankets. “What…Who? Who’s there?”

“Jaruka, you in there?!” The voice came from under me in the ship’s workspace under the bed. “It’s Dozel. You awake?”

“Oh come on, not now,” I complained in my dark, empty bedroom. I did not want to fight that day. I rolled out of bed, fell, and hit the floor coughing out mucus. I was malnourished. I found my plasma pistol under my pillow in the dark and then crawled to the floor airlock. I fired up the gun—the green glow illuminated everything—and said through the door, “Who wants to know?”

“Someone needs to see you.”

“Who? You?”

“No.”

“Then who the crog are you and why? People die when people rudely wake me up.”

“I told you, it’s Dozel. I’m your fishing partner. Remember?”

“I know a Dozel, but you might be a fake.”

“Stop being a jackass and unlock the door!”

I pinched a jagged dread in my fingers. “I don’t know. I can tell something is different in your voice. I need proof.” I clicked off my translator on my neck.

I heard a string of low-toned throat sounds and clicks of Creosian. One of those words was a curse Dozel uses while fishing. “Close.” No other species speak Creosian fluently, it’s even hard to imitate without universal translators, or a robot. If it was Dozel, and he was, I loved screwing with him.

Pointing my pistol at Dozel’s forehead, though, was part joke and part seriousness.

Dozel stood on the stairs, one of three legs tapping on the metal, with three un-amused eyes staring back at me. His head quills never moved, not even flinched from me. He’s a good kid, level tempered for a fisherman’s son. I used to hang out with his father’s family many times, exchanging food for fishing time on the ocean. Of course at that time, fishing season was closed and would not open back up until…oh, right now.

“Hey,” I said. Several skin dreads fell through the doorway, dangling in front of Dozel, each a jagged, lifeless wooden tentacle. Come to think of it, with the natural oil on them, they did look terrible, like right now. I need a shave.

Dozel brushed water off his raincoat. “Hey,” he said. Oh yeah, it was raining that day.

I smirked and pulled my gun out of his face. “If it’s your uncle offering me a job, tell him I’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

“Jaruka, it is not about my uncle.”

Did Denverbay tell you about my problem before the asteroid? No? Alright. I was jobless for two months, for real, not even Brill from Nova Company had anything. It was one useless job hunt after another and it’s usually immediate. I had never had that bad of a dry spell. My savings was running dry, and I was desperate to catch any low-end jobs at the capitol, but almost all had turned me down.

A well-respected mercenary could not get work, explain that.

“Then why wake me? I’m having a bad day.” I wiggled a dread in Dozel’s face.

Dozel rolled his three eyes in irritation. “A small man has been trying to reach you for hours. He say he got your message for work.”

I tucked some dreads from my face. “Who?” I asked in confusion.

Dozel called out the man’s name and the guy peeked inside from the main hatch behind my ship.

I will never forget the Gnogal’s face, take lots of notes and investigate him to a hair pin, Xi’Tra, I bet there’s more than wind in his past.

“Wow, I see life’s been rough, Halcunac. Captain Secambre said it’d be true,” he said, like a calculative shmuck.

Gnogals aren’t hard to find in a crowd, just look down and spot red-grey faces with white hair. He had a floating canopy of fine leather to keep the rain off of him and wore Gnogal business robes, embroidered with runes. I knew he practiced heavy magic by his two-foot staff in his hand, not his robes. He must have been magic-born or something. “Sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Teal, but I was certain you could hear my proposal since this nice young lad helped me.”

I nodded. “It’s alright.”

“Permission to enter?”

“Sure,” I sighed, “but I can’t come down. I’m ah…bare ass right now.” That was the truth. I have my ways of sleeping you know.

The canopy folded into his robe and he stepped inside. He was scanning my workspace, everything from my glassblowing furnace to weapons lockers. He looked at my lockers and my katana on the workbench the longest. He does not trust me, I thought. Ready for any wrong moves, and with my gun in the bedroom, I pulled the hammer.

“Nice ship, Mr. Teal.”

“Thanks.”

“Never seen this model for a while.”

“It’s vintage. You got a message? And you mentioned Brill?”

“Yes, indeed. I came across your message by your Nova Company superior officer. I undoubtedly accepted it based on your experience,” he explained. “I was hoping to hear the job I have to offer.”

I remembered that I had asked Brill to help with jobs. I guess word of mouth finally paid off.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Name’s Benali Zanos. I represent a magical science community for scientific expeditions.”

I’ve done magical science work in the past, it’s a cakewalk for magical folk, which I’m not, but I can still function.

“How about you explain this somewhere else,” I said, eyeing Dozel. “This is not a secure place. Plus I hope that whatever you offer has food.”

Benali nodded. “Of course. Capitol platform perhaps?”

I thought about it. “Lots of food.”

“Okay. So you are interested?”

“First food, then explanation, and I bet that whatever you want to offer, you want me bad.”

“Ah, smart. Your reputation has never been ignored,” he said. “Very well then. How about we travel together to get things started.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I said.

“Ah, right. Sorry. I’ll contact you later with the location. And sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Teal.” He placed his contact card on the workbench, a plastic card with Gnogal glyphs.

“It’s alright, I’m used to rude awakenings.”

“As if,” Dozel whispered. I flicked a dread at his face.

“Talk to you soon, Mr. Teal,” Benali said and walked out with the canopy open. I was unaware he rode in a transport; we heard him fly off in the rain.

“I don’t trust him,” I said.

“You have trust issues,” Dozel said.

“He looked shifty.”

“But a good talk. You can finally work off that stench in my face.”

I grumbled.

Good talk, yes, but I knew my limitations.

My senses told me to ignore this, but my senses don’t know jack about the real world. I needed money, fuel, food. I needed companionship for goodness sake. I couldn’t ignore what Benali was offering, it was tempting without knowing. You understand, right? If you were job hunting for two months with no leads, and then a job finally comes, you take it, right? Exactly.

Nobody offers unknown jobs with food. It takes a while to bribe someone to feed you, but Benali accepted my offer without problem.

How can you decipher that?

And so I told Dozel to skedaddle. I showered, dressed, shaved my dreads, ate whatever crumbs I found in the pantry for the trip, secured the Lunar Spear (public transportation sounded good) and traveled to the address Benali sent me.

Just to be safe, I brought my plasma pistol and katana with me. I can’t be too careful in the galaxy, right? Especially Gnogals.