A civilization’s greatest enemy is always from within. It is the doubt in the hearts of the people, the weariness that arises from continued labor, and the dissatisfaction inherent to living only a single life. Even when crushed underfoot by superior power, the culture survives and adapts, fighting ‘til its last breath to be remembered, only to give up on itself a century later. A civilization’s greatest enemy is the truth. A truth that must never be accepted, lest everything be lost.

- Dr. Seguri Yyllek, author of United By Hatred and professor of philosophy at Eskolla System University.

Lalsan Kassi thought about that quote often. His mother was an avid reader, and she could never stop recommending her favorite books to him since he could read. He had actually read United By Hatred and found it to be rather dull. It was more an academic textbook than a casual read. While the connections drawn between civilizations and species on opposite sides of the galaxy was something he had never thought of before, it was not a subject he was greatly invested in. Of course, his mother had turned her nose up at that comment and ranted about how he had not understood the deep meaning this had for all life in the galaxy. She was kind enough to let him walk off without listening to a word she said.

Now, tucking away her last will and testament, he wondered if listening to her could have prolonged her life. He had just received the physical document yesterday, though he had gotten the message weeks ago. His mother enjoyed the act of physically writing things down, despite how outdated the act was. He supposed it was only natural she would stick to that habit, even in cases like this.

Twenty-two days ago, his mother, Uminie Kassi, visited the prison planet of Golyoko, and was stabbed to death by the prisoner Soun Kassi, his father. When Lalsan heard the news, he didn’t feel sad, not really. Looking back on it, disappointment and a cold numbness was all there was. His father was a psychotic killer, and his mother was the madwoman who loved him. It wasn’t so clear-cut when he was younger, but his father took a walk from his life when he was 16, and ended up on galactic news when he was 19. 2 years later and now it was his mother on the news as well, and he was all alone.

Lalsan held no for his father, practically since the beginning. He was never kind, he was never caring, and his eyes were always so cold. There was no love in his father, and his father fostered no love in him. His mother, however, more than made up for that. His father made a good deal of money, so his mother never got a full-time job. She preferred to read and write, a passion she shared, to a degree, with Lalsan. She published a number of books, none of which ever sold well, but her passion was never deterred. She was perhaps the brightest person in his life.

That was exactly why he could never forgive himself for feeling so empty about her death.

Despite how much she wrote, her will was rather short and concise. Everything was left to her son, nothing for her husband, save for a letter Lalsan never read. There was a letter for him, too, of course, but it didn’t answer the question he had about her actions, and it didn’t alleviate the feelings of guilt he had. It told him not to blame himself, it told him to follow his passions, it told him to make friends, it told him to live a happy life.

He knew he couldn’t do any of that.

Lalsan leaned back in his chair, staring at the metal ceiling of the spaceport. His house back on his home planet of Rosenayde was too big for him alone, so he sold it and bought a starship. It was a Model IV Hakesien Phantom – a medium-class starship built primarily for exploration and long jumps. He named it Taeliph. Because it sounded cool and meaningful. He wanted to go out and see the stars, exploring areas of space no one had ever laid sensors on before, but he hardly even left the spaceport ever since he bought it. He loved his ship, and he wanted to use it, but at the same time, he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.

Lalsan gazed vacantly at the docking port from the station lounge close to his hangar. He idly watched as ships entered and exited through the “mail slot”, the small gap in the station through which all vessels would enter and exit. Accidents were extremely rare due to the auto-docking programs that came with every ship. The closest he ever came to witnessing an accident was seeing some maverick pilot launch their ship through the mail slot backwards and slamming their thruster boost to prevent the ship from crashing into the control tower. There was a hefty fine to such a maneuver, but the advanced construction of both the station and the ship meant that any injuries were very unlikely.

Lalsan liked watching the ships come and go. It was almost therapeutic. It was not, however, very profitable, and his savings were drying up. He could continue living like this for another three years, maybe, or perhaps apply for financial assistance, but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to do what his mother’s letter had told him.

So, he began looking for a job. There were lots of jobs, too many to count. There weren’t a lot of jobs he wanted, not even any to count. So he chose something he thought he could do. A few jobs caught his eye, but the one he chose was Watcher. The full title was Undercover Agent For Pre-FTL Regulation Violators, but Watcher was much easier to say, and Primitive Watcher was what you would call it if someone asked you what you did for a living. While the official term for species and civilizations that had yet to expand beyond their origin planet was “pre-FTL”, your average galactic citizen would call species from civilizations that had yet to achieve faster-than-light travel “primitives”, as it was often easier to say.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

He was now waiting for his new boss to meet him in the station. He arrived at the Epsilon Outi Station yesterday, and would be starting his interview today. Most interviews aren’t held in-person, but Lalsan wanted to be there, mostly just to have a reason to leave Scaedid Station. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of routine docking requests, and the esoteric feeling of traveling through hyperspace. It was a nice change of pace, and actually quite something he liked. He had a small wish to fail the interview, just so he could go through that process again.

He felt a vibration from his pocket. His phone. He pulled it out and glanced at the notification on its screen. It was a text from his new boss, telling him he was in the lounge. Lalsan straightened up and looked behind him. There were three others in the room. Two were clearly station employees, and one was a man wearing his spacesuit, standing by the entrance with his helmet tucked under his arm. Considering his appearance, Lalsan assumed he must have just recently entered the station. Perhaps he even saw the ship enter. He stood and raised his arm.

“Over here,” Lalsan called out, his voice sounding a little hoarser than he remembered.

The man turned to look, and his face instantly brightened into a smile. He practically ran over to Lalsan, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Lalsan Kassi?” The man asked, extending his hand.

Lalsan nodded and accepted the handshake.

“Good to meet you. I’m Rendon Iwath’e. Pleasure to see you here.” Rendon beamed, shaking his hand perhaps a bit too vigorously.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Rendon.” Lalsan responded, not matching the man’s enthusiasm.

“Please, please, just Rendon is fine!” Rendon gestured for Lalsan to follow and began to walk towards where he entered. “Now, you said you’d be willing to start immediately, yes? That hasn’t changed, has it?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Ah, you have no idea what a pleasure that is to hear! I must admit that your application is a godsend. We’ve been operating for almost 3 years now, and I can count on one hand how many applicants we’ve gotten.”

Lalsan’s eyes widened slightly. “That seems a bit small. I was under the assumption that there was a bigger team than that.”

“There is, yes, but aside from you, only two others have applied for the ‘boots on the ground’ position. Everyone else works in the observation post. Oh…” A sudden look of nervousness flashed on Rendon’s face as the two entered the elevator.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Mr. Rendon?” Lalsan asked, noticing Rendon’s change in demeanor.

“No, no, it’s just… You did apply for the planet-side position, right? Not the station-side one?”

“Yes, I applied for planet-side. I do not meet the station-side requirements, nor do I feel that I would be a good fit for that position specifically.”

“Ah,” Rendon seemed off-put by his answer. “Well, it’s good to know I didn’t get my wires crossed. It feels like it has been forever since I talked to someone outside the team. I was worried I might have made too many assumptions due to that.”

“Don’t worry too much, Mr. Rendon. You could have advertised a position for target practice and I still would have accepted.” Lalsan admitted perhaps a bit too honestly.

“Oh, uh, well… You certainly, wear your heart on your sleeve, Lalsan.” Rendon laughed uncomfortably.

“The same can be said of you. You were so clearly excited you forgot to tell me where we’re going.” Lalsan changed the subject.

“Ah, how silly of me. I was going to bring you to the observation post so you could meet the team. We’re a close bunch, so I thought it best for all of us if the whole team was involved with the interview. After all, if you still want the job, you’d be working closely with all of us.” Rendon welcomed the change of subject eagerly.

“I see. Will we be taking separate ships?”

“I was planning on using my Hauler, but if you want, we can take separate ships?”

A Hauler. Lalsan had seen one when shopping for a starship. It was a small, cheap, and functional vessel. It was also rather ugly. Independent pilots who do trading, cargo hauling, or anything requiring cargo space would often start off with that type of ship.

“I’m alright with taking your Hauler.”

“Alright then! You have your suit, right?”

“Underneath my clothes, yes,” Lalsan fumbled around his pockets. “I did leave my helmet in my ship, however.”

“Ah, might want to go grab that then. We don’t have a lot of spares. Galcom can be rather stingy with their funding.”

“I assume the Galactic Community has yet to roll back their spending on the GDF?”

“Yes. The Outsiders may be gone, but everyone wants to keep the Galactic Defense Force, for a safer and brighter galaxy!” Rendon exaggerated the last half of the sentence. “Still, though, I shouldn’t be too angry. I just wish they’d do more than give us a maintenance stipend. We have to put in requisitions for everything else.”

“That sounds annoying.” Lalsan commented.

“It’s a pain, but I suppose with every nation arguing about how to defend the galaxy from outside threats, no one’s thinking about operations like us. I guess the Council thinks we can afford to ignore the pre-ftl civilizations. Especially since none of them are at the level where they can detect our cloaked outposts. Ah, this is our floor.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. The two of them stepped out into the narrow corridor.

“My ship’s this way.” Lalsan said, pointing towards the left.

“Ah, I’m the other way. I’m in bay 34.” Rendon waved and began walking away.

“See you in a minute.” Lalsan said, and began walking away.

“Trust me, you’ll love Samra!”