Bon Voyage

Kanzu stops at the second lifebox, presses the palm pad, and enters. She opens her floor panel and tosses in her backpack with other items and rations inside. She closes the floor panel and secures herself to the interior restraints as the lifebox door closes.

“I’ll find you brother!” she screams. “On my word!”

The lifebox shuts, triggering a gelatinous force bubble that cocoons her from the interior walls. Dim lighting offers minimal vision. The force bubble’s gelatin puts Kanzu to sleep as it’s spat out of the descending hypershuttle.

A small rock slams against Kanzu’s Freeland Corps transport window, snapping her back to reality. Outside, disgruntled Terrans and hybreeds hurl debris over the laser fencing, at times hitting their moving target. As they approach a guard tower, a Freeland tower guard shoots at the unruly protesters, who scatter.

“Terra to Kanzu,” Raym says.

Kanzu turns to Raym sitting next to her.

“Just reflecting,” Kanzu replies.

“Don’t let your reflections become distractions.”

Kanzu smiles.

“I appreciate the concern.”

Raym stares straight ahead as their Freeland Corps transport pulls into the rear lot of a precinct station and stops near the personnel entrance. Everyone exits the transport and enters the precinct. Kanzu and Raym walk the long hall flanked by digital Freeland propaganda ads circulating the wall displays. They enter the female locker room, find their respective lockers, and change into civilian attire. They grab their stuffed personal gear bags, secure their lockers, and make their way toward a guarded personnel exit on the side of the building. A hairy, hominoid precinct guard glares at them. Raym glares back.

“Is there an issue, Arsen?” Raym asks.

“Both of you going on leave makes Arsen wonder,” he replies with a devilish grin.

“Keep wondering,” Kanzu replies.

Towering over the precinct guard, Raym seductively stares down at him.

“Perhaps a few images of our…adventures would interest Arsen?” Raym asks.

“Great interest,” he answers while nodding.

“Arsen would need to show discretion until we get back,” Kanzu says.

Starting to sweat, the smiling precinct guard gulps.

“Arsen is a master of discretion.”

Kanzu grabs Raym’s arm and pulls her close.

“We shall see,” Raym says.

“In a few lights,” Kanzu adds.

Kanzu and Raym exit the station, leaving a permanent smile on the precinct guard’s hairy face. They make their way through an ocean of hominoid pedestrians to the nearest autotram station and board a half-full car back to Keelung Station. Kanzu takes an empty row for herself. Raym takes the empty one behind her. Both lean on their respective window displays.

The autotram pulls out of the station. Kanzu and Raym ignore the commercial and government propaganda ads alternating on the displays.

“Poor Arsen,” Kanzu says.

The two female hominoids laugh.

“Poor Brazin,” Raym says.

Kanzu sighs.

“He deserves the life he’s earned here,” Kanzu responds.

Their autotram pulls into a backpacked station. However, neither gives up their window seat as more passengers pour into the car. The doors shut, and the autotram departs the crowded station. Raym leans forward.

“Don’t worry, sister,” she says. “You’ll find a good mate.”

“Perhaps,” Kanzu responds, looking out her window. “It’s just uncertain if I’ll ever be one.”

Raym leans back in her seat and looks out her window. Both take in the beautiful skyline as they approach their destination.

“Kee-Lung,” the autotram guide alerts.

The autotram pulls into their station and stops. The door opens, and they exit. Kanzu and Raym follow the masses toward the port. They veer away from the main registration building and arrive at the ten-lane ticketing stand.

“Eight,” Raym says.

Kanzu follows Raym into the shortest line. As the line inches forward, Raym makes eye contact with the hominoid booth agent servicing customers ahead of them. Kanzu and Raym arrive at the front. Without hesitation, the smiling booth agent types into his console.

“Wristlets,” he requests.

Raym smiles at the booth agent as she extends her arm. Using a scanner, the booth agent transmits a roundtrip authorization code to Raym’s wristlet. He nods to Kanzu.

“Next.”

Kanzu extends her wristlet for the booth agent to scan.

“Return passage expires in seventeen rotations,” he explains.

“Grats,” Kanzu replies.

“Enjoy your journey,” the booth agent replies while smiling at Raym.

“See you in seventeen rotations,” Raym counters with a wink and smile.

The smiling booth agent watches them leave when the next customer steals back his attention. Kanzu and Raym arrive at the large catamaran’s boarding line.

“Why torture him?” Kanzu whispers.

“I only offer hope,” Raym whispers back. “Seems to be in short supply these days.”

Kanzu nods as they move closer to the front of the line.

Yori

Nooz observes a mechanical claw lower from the ceiling and retrieve a transparent cube with blinking red borders and a naked, lifeless Terran inside. Another mechanical claw lowers from the ceiling and grabs another blinking red cube containing a family of four lifeless sapiens. An adult, legless female and two adolescents with rusted metal grafted to their bodies lay together in a pool of blood while a larger male lays off to the side with his cybernetic hand affixed to his own crushed windpipe. As cubes for the deceased are removed, they’re replaced with ones occupied by new arrivals. The captives’ collective screams register just enough to get Nooz’s attention. One of his oculars glances past the flight lieutenant huddling in the corner of his cube as exterior lighting reflects off the metal rod now replacing the flight lieutenant’s right leg.

Mechanical claws place the deceased Terrans’ cubes onto a conveyor belt that carries them through a spacious recycling room located on the opposite end of the industrial complex. Like vultures, purple recycling drones hover patiently while the empty cubes pass through a purple-lit area that removes the top of each cube, vaporizes the decayed organic matter, then sanitizes the remaining metal and wiring for reuse. The purple drones then grab the material and carry them to an adjacent room.

The newly sterile cages then proceed toward another large room where they’re given replacement tops and sent to storage or refilled with new arrivals. Those sent for refilling are rerouted to another room where a Lorian worker oversees drones placing unconscious Terrans inside them. Once occupied, the invisible cages wait for mechanical claws to deliver them to their assigned departments within the complex.

Nooz’s oculars randomly observe the stacked prisoners as they scream in vain. Mechanical claws drop or slide the transparent cubes with their new occupants into open slots among the stack. Another blinking, transparent cube grabs Nooz’s attention as a mechanical claw retrieves it. He peers inside to see the lifeless body of the once-pregnant Russian with wires protruding from her missing limbs and a cauterized line across her flat, naked belly. Her death provides solace and finality to the living nightmare she’s had to endure. It’s not long before a mechanical claw places a newly occupied cube in her former slot as well.

After watching the pregnant Russian’s cube disappear into the ceiling, Nooz exits the kennel and proceeds to the locker room. He opens his locker, removes his work gear, and places it inside. The giant alien confirms he’s alone, then opens a secret panel at the bottom of his locker. Nooz grabs the small case that contains two sleeping Terrans inside. He hides the small case in a metal supply box that attaches to his mechsuit. Nooz closes his locker just as a short female Lorian enters the locker room.

“Deception,” the short female Lorian grunts.

A maintenance drone scoops up a pile of yellow puss in the hallway behind her as the locker room door shuts.

Nooz turns and replies, “Could you repeat?”

“Were you also deceived into this posting?” the short female Lorian inquires.

“Would you prefer to starve in the home system?” Nooz asks, pointing upward.

The short female Lorian walks over to her locker and opens it.

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“Perhaps not. I am called Yori.”

“You are not familiar.”

“I only arrived two cycles ago.”

The short female Lorian walks over to her locker and opens it. She retrieves her work gear.

“I am called Nooz.”

“I was reassigned from Terralunopolis to help with the influx of organic rejects,” she explains.

“Rejects? From where?”

“Supervisor Minto have procured an agreement with the Council,” she says. “He has exploited a loophole that allows him to acquire more test subjects than current laws permit.”

“And more lucrative for Loria?”

“And for him,” the short female Lorian says.

“You have experience with Terrans, Yori?”

“I’m well-versed in Terran biology and genetic studies.”

Nooz shuts his locker, gathers his things, and rises.

“My shift has ended,” he says. “We shall further consult.”

“Rest well, Noose,” she says. “For Loria.”

“For Loria,” he responds.

Nooz leaves the locker room and makes his way through the guarded facility to the exit. He boards the cargo bay of a piloted hovershuttle and sits by the window. The hovershuttle takes off, making its way north. Nooz looks east, out to the ocean. Faint light from the full moon above surprisingly penetrates the hazy fog blanketing the lower atmosphere. Nooz looks up and spots another tiny silhouette of a Lorian starcruiser in the distance.

The One That Got Away

Staring at his desk display, Brazin sits in one of four tiny cubicles within a cramped office. Among the usual desk clutter is a bobblehead of Freeland’s current hominoid Alpha next to an image of Kanzu and Brazin. His eyes glaze over when his greenish hominoid friend enters the room and walks over to him.

“Hey, hey, Bray-Bray,” the greenish hominoid says.

“I’m on a deadline, Forgie.”

“Understood, brother. Free to imbibe later?”

Brazin rubs his eyes and smiles.

“You’ll have to partake without me.”

“Hey,” the greenish hominoid whispers. “What are your thoughts on adoption.”

Brazin stops typing, turns, and smiles.

“You and Raym wish to adopt?”

“Well, she confided that she could not procreate.”

“Does she want offspring?”

“She hasn’t decided yet.”

“Well, there’s a lot of orphans who would be fortunate to have your rearing.”

“Thanks, brother!”

Typing noises from the three other cubicles simultaneously stop.

“Shh,” a hominoid co-worker in the adjacent cubicle admonishes.

“You and Kanzu engage in this topic?” the greenish hominoid whispers.

Typing in the other three cubicles resumes.

“Not yet,” Brazin whispers. “But, I have no concerns.”

“You don’t want children?”

“I don’t know. I just know I want to be with her.”

“How romantic.”

“I plan to surprise Kanzu with sustenance after I finish this report.”

“Interesting.”

“I was hoping for another romantic,” Brazin replies.

“Raym told me they were taking a personal day together.”

Kanzu turns and replies, “Today?”

“Shhh,” the hominoid co-workers respond in unison.

“When did Raym mention this?” Brazin whispers.

“This morning when I invited her out. My transport rides past their post and I saw neither this light.”

Brazin taps his wristlet to call Kanzu, but there’s no response.

“Forg, could you-”

Forg tries to call Raym, but she’s not answering either. Forg shakes his head.

“You sense deception?” he asks.

“No, no. They’re probably somewhere with a bad signal.”

“I know how that goes.”

“I’ll just surprise her tonight. In the meantime, I’ve got to finish this-”

“Understood. Once I hear from Raym-”

“And I’ll do the same,” Brazin says. “Enjoy your meal, brother.”

Brazin turns back to his display, types.

“Grats,” the greenish hominoid replies before exiting the room.

Brazin continues typing before looking over his shoulder. He types a few keys, then shuts off his display. Brazin stands and observes the bobbing heads of his three neighbors while they tap away at their displays. He exits the room, walks down the hall, and takes the stairs to the ground floor. Peeking through the ground floor stairwell window, Brazin spots his greenish hominoid friend exit the building to join a group of co-workers. Brazin cautiously exits the building and speed walks in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes later, Brazin sits by the window of a Freeland Corps transport while eating protein treats from an open box once gift wrapped. The shuttle passes by a laser fence guarded by Kanzu and Raym’s replacements. The shuttle stops, takes on more passengers, and continues to Kanzu and Raym’s precinct.

At the precinct, Brazin engages in an inaudible conversation with the precinct guard. Brazin hands the hairy hominoid the entire box of protein treats, which the guard readily accepts.

Another fifteen minutes later, Brazin impatiently fidgets inside a decelerating autotram as it approaches the station. Despite reports of increased Lorian sightings and refugee traffic, Brazin stares right through the window display as it enters the station. The autotram comes to a complete stop. Once its doors open, Brazin shoots out of his car like a racehorse from a starting gate. The seagulls above appear to cheer (or mock) Brazin as he races past the immigration building, the sight of which triggers his first memory of Kanzu. His pace slows, but picks back up at the sound of a catamaran’s horn as it pulls away from the dock. However, the catamaran’s on it’s way out to sea by the time he reaches the dock.

Brazin scans the large vessel when he makes eye contact with Kanzu staring at him from the top level.

“Kaan-zoo!” he screams at the top of his lungs.

Staring at him, Kanzu wipes away her tears. Raym appears at her side, offering Brazin an empathetic shrug and a half-hearted wave. Brazin’s eyes remain locked on Kanzu as her silhouette shrinks, the vanishes into the horizon. Salty tears fill his eyes as he lowers his head in defeat. Brazin reluctantly turns and heads back toward the autotram station. He walks past the pink female hominoid clerk enjoying a container of worms squirming around in red sauce.

“Youth today,” the hominoid clerk says aloud.

“Excuse me?” Brazin replies in a heavy tone as he turns.

He nervously smiles upon recognizing the registration clerk who originally serviced him and Kanzu.

“The ferry,” she responds with a mouthful of red worms. “Another will come.”

“Unfortunately, that was the one I wanted.”

“Fortunately, it will come back.”

“One can only hope.”

“Hope is nothing without action,” the hominoid clerk replies.

“I will keep that in mind.”

Brazin nods and then continues toward the autotram station. The hominoid clerk continues eating when she catches a whiff of his scent in the salty air. She briefly turns in his direction, then towards the dock before finishing her meal.

Kujo

Kanzu and Raym disembark with the catamaran passengers onto The Landings dock. They walk toward Tino, waiting among other greeters at the other end.

“He’s exactly how you described him,” Raym says.

They walk up to Tino. Kanzu hugs him.

“Greetings, young Kanzu.”

“Surprised to see me so soon?” Kanzu asks.

“I should be, shouldn’t I?”

Raym extends her fist and says, “Raym.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he says.

“It appears our celebration will be short-lived,” Kanzu replies.

“Your name carries a lot of weight,” Raym responds.

“A lot heavier than me,” Tino responds.

Kanzu looks around.

“Where’s the package?” she asks.

“Safe,” he replies.

“Hope it’s not heavier than me,” Raym says with a smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be more than capable.”

Tino turns and walks toward the parking lot. Kanzu shrugs and follows him while Raym looks back at their docked catamaran being serviced by Terran and hominoid workers.

“Raym?” Kanzu calls out.

Raym turns to see Kanzu and Tino waiting ahead. She catches up to them.

“You must be hungry,” Tino says.

“You must be a prophet,” Raym replies.

“Raym,” Kanzu chides.

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do have some sense of humor,” Tino responds.

He leads them to his golf cart. Kanzu takes the passenger seat while Raym sits in back behind Tino. Tino drives off, pressing a horn that rings like an old fashioned telephone to warn pedestrians of incoming traffic. On the road, Kanzu and Raym observe a group of locals on a beach assisting a few strays from their lifeboxes while others escort a few toward the port.

A mile inland, Tino drives into a community of tiny homes. Friendly onlookers wave to Tino and his guests. Standing beside her young offspring, a female hominoid neighbor makes playful, sexual gyrations toward the trio.

“Pay her no mind,” Tino chuckles.

“Nice dwellings,” Kanzu says.

“I am most fortunate,” Tino replies.

He pulls in front of his tiny home. They exit the golf cart and enter the small abode. The door shuts behind them, darkening the room.

“It’s a trap!” Raym shouts.

“Raym,” Kanzu barks, grabbing her friend’s arm. “Relax.”

Raym takes a few deep breaths.

“Pardon the apprehension,” she responds.

Tino doesn’t break a sweat as dim lighting activates and the floor lowers.

“It happens,” Tino replies.

They stop. A portion of the wall slides open, exposing a short corridor. Tino leads the females through it. On the other end, Tino places his palm in a specific spot which opens another door to a brightly-lit main room with a sitting area that includes a kitchenette currently warming food, two small bedrooms, a storage room, a small office, and a bathroom. They enter. Though not as modern as a Freeland dwelling, it’s definitely something even the most sophisticated tourist could appreciate. Raym walks over to the kitchenette and smiles.

“Tino, you do not disappoint,” she says.

“I appreciate your scan of approval,” Tino responds. “Help yourself.”

He joins her by the kitchenette, grabs a four plates from the cupboard, and hands one to Raym, who helps herself to food from the pots. She takes a seat at the table and eats. Kanzu’s attention turns to a tiny artifact encased in plastic and sitting on a shelf. She walks over, picks it up, and examines it.

“What’s this?” she asks.

Holding a plate of food, Tino turns.

“Please return that,” he says.

“Apologies for my friend,” Kanzu says. “She’s more of a recluse.”

Raym side-eyes Kanzu while eating.

Kanzu walks over to the kitchenette, grabs a plate and helps herself to food from the pots. She joins Raym at the table while Tino helps himself to some food from the pots.

“It’s an official rendering of the Alpha Code,” he answers.

Raym stops eating, but Kanzu continues.

“As in Jonathan the Archaic’s Alpha Code?” Raym asks.

“Seems the recluse is a history buff,” Tino confirms.

Raym turns to see Kanzu eating.

“You’re not curious?” Raym asks.

Kanzu looks up.

“I’m more curious about his other guest,” she replies.

“What other guest?” Raym asks.

Kanzu points to the empty plate resting near the stove when a noise startles them. Holding her utensil as a weapon, Raym stands.

“Raym!” Kanzu chides again.

“This is my first adventure, okay?” an exasperated Raym responds.

“It’s all right,” Tino calls out. “Come!"

Kanzu and Raym look down the hall to see a Japanese boy appear and run toward them. Raym’s eyes widen as Tino hands the Japanese boy his plate of food. Raym turns to Kanzu.

“Kanzu,” she says. “He’s…”

“Koo-joe,” Tino responds. “Kujo, these are my good friends Kanzu and Raym. What do we say to good friends?”

“Greetings,” the Japanese boy says with a smile.

“Greetings,” Kanzu replies back with a smile.

“But he’s A-,” Raym cuts her comment off after catching the heat of Kanzu’s glare. “Nice little boy, aren’t you?”

“Gratitudes,” the Japanese boy speaks in their native tongue.

Kanzu and Raym glance over at a smiling Tino. They walk over to the Japanese boy and inspect his face and neck to find no visible skin markings.

“Where are his implants?” Raym asks.

“He’s still too young,” Tino answers.

“Then how does he speak in our tongue?” Kanzu asks.

“Uncle Tino has been teaching me!” the Japanese boy answers in their language.

Kanzu and Raym step back and smile in near disbelief.

“He’s a fast learner,” Tino says.

“Does he know our entire vocabulary?” Raym asks.

“No, no,” Tino answers. “Just enough to get by until he’s of age for an implant.”

“Impressive,” Kanzu says.

“Forgive the ommission,” Tino pleads. “But it’s essential to the boy’s safety. Discretion is of utmost importance on your journey.”

“He’s the package?” Raym asks.

Tino nods.

“I thought I smelled something strange,” Kanzu whipsers to Raym.

“I assumed it was his cooking,” Raym whispers back.

“A little over a revolution before young Kanzu’s arrival, Kujo and his father were caught in a vicious storm while sea fishing. Kujo washed ashore on part of his boat. His father was never found.”

“How unfortunate,” Kanzu says.

“For a young boy, agreed,” Raym replies. “However, were the father here, it’s likely they both would’ve experienced a very different registration process.”

“A sound conclusion, young Raym,” Tino says.

“Grats,” a smiling Raym replies.

“And his mother?” Kanzu asks.

“Fortunately for her, we share a mutual friend on Okie named Syrric.”

“Our guide,” Kanzu whispers to Raym.

Tino nods.

“She will accompany his mother during the transaction and provide room and board until your transport to Hiro arrives.”

“If these are friends, why not deliver the boy yourself?” Raym asks.

“My movements outside The Landings draw unwanted attention,” Tino answers. “And there are too few I generally trust, let alone with a Terran child.”

“We will protect him with our lives,” Kanzu says.

“We will?” Raym whispers to Kanzu, though everyone can still hear.

“Kujo, retrieve your cover please?” Tino asks.

The Japanese boy bows and runs down the hall. Seconds later, he returns with a blanket and hands it to Tino, who then hands it to Kanzu. She sniffs it and hands the blanket to Raym, who inhales the fabric’s scent.

“Not bad for an archaic,” Raym says.

She tosses the blanket back to the Japanese boy, who smiles at her. Raym grins back at the Japanese boy.

“Shall we go over the details?” Tino asks.