[Pioneer Dominique Reynolds]

I woke up with a completely clear head this morning for the first time in months. I could never really tell how long I slept on the ship; the onboard clock would tell me that I slept eight hours but I never felt like I slept more than two. The clock seemed to do that a lot actually, but it was probably just me being completely out of touch during the long voyage.

I had a couple tasks that needed taking care of before leaving the governor’s estate. Finalizing details about the trade deal, settling claims on moons where there were research colonies and the like, I also notified them that there was a survivor from the enemy fleet. They told me that they’d handle the situation and I took their word for it. Even if they didn’t have space combat capabilities, it seemed that public order was in extremely good shape and law enforcement was well equipped and trained.

I took the jet array back up to the ship so I could finally get started on my real job: large-scale terraforming in preparation for the colony ship. In my years of training, maybe a couple weeks were actually delegated to political sciences in the practically impossible scenario of meeting advanced sapient life. My real training had been dealing with the loneliness and in-depth training with planetary reshaping machinery. The program used Pluto as a training ground since nobody wanted to live there anyway, and I had actually been consistently first or second place in my class, always competing with that pretentious prick Desmond.

“Computer, begin transfer to the moon Zeluna. It’s time to do what we actually came here for.”

“Leaving close orbit will result in the loss of that survivor’s location. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

“It’s fine, those mi- ah, Meldren have it under control. You can drop the tracking.”

…

“Uhm, computer?”

Then I started hearing a whirring noise, slowly rising in pitch. Spending months on this ship with pretty much nothing interesting to do, I’ve memorized every single sound the various subsystems make to the point where I could perfectly recreate them in sound editing software from memory. This one was new… no, not new, I’d heard it once before during weapons training. It was one of the precision weapons meant for removing boulders or setting off mudslides and avalanches.

“Computer, what the hell is going on?!”

Then, it fired.

“COMPUTER?! What the FUCK just happened?”

“Dominique, I do not understand”

“...Excuse me? The weapon that just fired?! What happened?”

“Dominique, you are acting in an unstable manner… No weaponry has been discharged since the nanite lance. Would you like to check the logs?”

The logs of all subsystem history in the ship popped up on one of the monitors. Engines spooling up, life support nominal, enemy data stolen… nothing about precision weapons fire.

“Prolonged sudden exposure to alien scenery may be taking a toll on your mind. I deplore you to calm your mind and focus on terraforming. It was recorded as a de-stresser considering how much you enjoyed it.”

…Fuck, maybe she was right… It, not she... Whatever.

________________

[Captain Indrix Jaen]

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

There had been a bit of rain, washing me of my blood and grime, though nothing could wash away the crime I’d just committed. It was morning soon, and I decided that I needed to start moving no matter what, otherwise I would fall back into a cycle of sorrow. I needed information; What was the relationship between the Meldren and that attack? Are they still allies and are being held hostage, or have they turned on us? Was it voluntary, or are they being controlled against their will?

An hour of walking and I could see a house in the distance far ahead. The atmosphere was a bit thin for running, but I could manage a light jog just fine… Thinking about it, what am I even expecting when I come into contact with the locals? If the government did end up being hostile, would that extend down to its citizens? Even if it didn’t, I doubt they would shoulder the risk of housing someone with a target on their back.

I reached the point where I could see the house in detail. Seemed like a farm-owner’s house considering it was surrounded by massive fields. They were probably barren due to a recent harvest, explaining the lack of crops despite evidence of roots and watering systems. Despite being a farmer’s house, it was still massive and decorated as is common for Meldren, living on a luxury world and all that. If these people really were hostile, I’d probably get blasted with a shotgun as soon as they saw me.

Bracing myself, I knocked on the front door. Heard some shuffling, a few latches sliding… then the door opened and a Meldren appeared, no shotgun in hand. I had to look down at them since Grahtonians were almost twice as tall as Meldren. We stared at each other for a second before she finally spoke.

“You must be ‘una them survivors they spoke about on the news, huh? You hungry? Breakfast’s ready soon, we always got extra.”

Looks like a rare bit of fortune just blessed me. She seemed to be a kind soul, and nobody would decline Meldren cuisine, not even those pissy nobles back on homeworld.

“The name’s Narella.”

“Indrix Jaen. I can not thank you enough for your hospitality. I-”

“Hey, none of that fancy talk here. If you’re in an Oroid household, you go by Oroid rules. Say what you mean, okay? Ahem, DALE! WE HAVE A GUEST!”

Narella led me into the house and I saw a Meldren man turn the corner, followed by a smaller Meldren boy.

“Oh, they mentioned you on the TV! My name’s Dale, and this here’s my son Jensen. Go on, say hi Jensen.”

…

“Why are your horns so short?”

The boy’s question definitely wasn’t what his parents intended, but I didn’t mind. Offworlders might think it’s rude to ask such things at first, and his mother began to reprimand him, but,

“Boy, where the hell are your manners-”

“Hah, I take no offense, don’t worry. You see, when Grahtonians serve in the military, we file our horns down so that they don’t get in the way in the tight corridors on ships. I’ll gladly answer any other questions you have.”

________________

Narella, Jensen and I spent the next half-hour talking about ourselves. Dale was making breakfast in the kitchen, but he was still in earshot range. He often interjected with jokes, lightening my dreary mood more than he’d ever know.

Apparently there had been a broadcast on the news about sheltering stranded Grahtonians, though details were very sparse. The civilian population was being kept in the dark about political proceedings and the flash of blue light that had happened yesterday. Narella had a sibling working in the Governor’s estate, but it seemed like most calls and transmissions were being put on hold.

Jensen had just finished his common-schooling a few days ago and was planning on getting high-education at a famous university in a big city. Young Meldren were unique in that their learning capacity and logical minds matured much faster than any other known species while their emotional minds matured at a much slower rate.

Jensen had the knowledge of a fully grown man and the emotional capacity of a child who had just hit puberty, so his parents were very worried about sending him off for his education. They were planning on doing so anyway; funds had been saved up over multiple generations to afford the heavy expenses of high education, and Jensen had a brilliant mind with a fixation on both medicine technology and aerospace engineering.

Seeing this loving family made me temporarily forget my pains. They led mostly simple lives, and the boy had a future full of opportunity, backed by parents that would spend their lives working to support him. He intended to, in his own words, “make a lotta money” so he could support his parents instead, to repay them for their boundless kindness.

Dale had just finished setting up the table for breakfast when a low hum filled the air. Everyone’s fur stood on end. I saw objects; forks, knives, plates, and books slowly begin to levitate. Enough adrenaline to kill someone ten times over was released throughout my body. I grabbed Jensen and dove into an unlit brick fireplace moments before everything went white.

When the adrenaline wore off, I was aware of three things.

One, the skin on my back was gone, muscle and bone was exposed and charred.

Two, Jensen had crawled out from under me at some point.

And three, the crying of a young boy, wishing for his parents.