Valence

This isn't your war. If it was, you probably wouldn't still be alive. Someone would have singled you out as Solar or New Solar, and would have shot your ship full of fire. That isn't the only reason the imperial sigil on the outer door of the airlock is frightening, but it doesn't help. [[Play]]

Breach By Megan Crouse @blogfullofwords [[...]]

The flames haven't breached the airlock, yet. Right now, the thing that feels most flammable is your letter of mark, crumpled in thick paper in your un-zipped jumpsuit pocket. You rub it with worry, careful not to catch the tips of your claws on the thick material of the suit. Your emergency blast door is burning behind you. Traveling without crew had been not so much a necessity as a convenience. You were transporting real redwood, further along the illegal spectrum of activities than you would have liked but not strictly covered by the relatively lax environmental laws. Weren't many smugglers thought to bring something that rare off the planet, but executives had to have their tables. You could sell shavings to geneticists and make the whole price of the haul again. The two-by-fours were probably burning too, now. Space was small, a long-hauler had told you once. You thought she was pulling your leg, saying what a pilot from out of system maybe hadn't ever heard. After an entire warship sliced out of hyperspace on top of your cargo jumper, you're inclined to believe her. That's the Inner Planets imperial seal behind the glass, behind the fire, on the ship that nearly warped straight through yours. The jumpseat and cockpit are criss-crossed with one of the imperial ship's wings and part of its hull now, broken and blackened corners coming together at angles that didn't look right when you tried to figure them out. You escaped that cage quickly enough, as that section wasn't being eaten up from the inside by fire. Trapped in between the two ships, you're only pretty sure that the imperial wreck is in better shape than your own. If its fleet - and its enemies - are still out there, you couldn't see them through your dead sensors. Space is small. It feels big enough to drown you. [[Open the airlock to the imperial ship, adding oxygen to the fire.]] [[Return to your own ship through the other side of the airlock.]]

With all the battering your ship took, the emergency pod probably didn't survive. You thought you heard it pop free of its mooring when you were first wrestling free of your restraints. There's nothing for you back there. When the airlock opens there's a rush of fire, just as you expected there would be. Your suit takes some of it, but your scales prickle. If you are going to despair later, you predict, it will be because of the temperature. The hallway into which you stumble is burning hotter because it's carpeted. Sigils of past wars hang in the hall, revered in gaudy pantomime of patriotism. You move past them quickly. The wall to your right cracks. As you turn, you see liquid oozing through. Fire, and now this? It's gray-green and cracked, some strange surface tension - but then the creature turns and what looked like a liquid surface reveals itself to be the sheen of scales under ship lights. The creature scratches, tearing away layers of the wall already stripped by the crash, and then pushes a face through the breach and shakes to fit the shoulders through. Its back is armored like the ship in thick white plates studded with black bolts. Could it have been spun out of the air by the crash, forward momentum hitting a wall so hard that it transformed with kinetic intent in to an entirely different shape? It stumbles on the shifting scree on four long legs. You were never warned about this. Your planet did not know to prepare you to fear this. Nevertheless, the predator-signs are there in the fanged mouth and the speed with which the beast recovers its balance. Those jaws could take your head. You don't see any eyes, but note wrinkles of scar tissue where the plating meets the rubbery skin above the red mouth. It moves toward you. Not a manifestation of the wreckage, then. Not with a tread so heavy. Maybe an imperial bodyguard. [[Look for a weapon in the rubble.]] [["What made me deserve this?"]]

Better the burning wreck you know than the one you don't. As you slip through the open side of the umbilical you smell your own scent mixed with the burning wood. What a waste. A passage might have opened up here into the jumble of wrecks, though, or your own emergency pod might still be working. You squeeze through corridors made narrow by the collision. Your emergency pod has shaken loose of its launch mechanism, just as you thought it had when you heard the screeching from the stern. The engine room is miraculously intact, protected by the cargo. There's a noise back there though, something keening like a person. The idea of rescuing someone gives you a renewed purpose that feels almost like a compulsion. You push past the unhinged, blackened doors of the emergency pod. The corner of the cargo bay is burning here, and the door to the engine room is ajar. With no power to the door, the flickering remnant lights fore make it hard to see into the aftmost bay. Hands clawed and gloved strain against the metal, but you can't push the door open on your own. Inside, the yelling stops, breaks out in a few more terrified barks, and resolves into a voice. "Who's out there?" "Hlrssi," you say. "I ... ended up here." "The whole empire in that ship and I get stuck without them. What do you want for my life? You're a long-hauler, right? I don't have any shortcuts or dive bars. Maybe some credits." Was this why the Inner Planets split off? Too insufferable and paranoid for the rest of the system? She must have a way to the other craft, though, a way without vacuum or fire. It was just luck of strange geometry that deposited her here, one reality cutting into another like metal through dough. [[Help her.]] [[Leave her.]]

One two-by-four has been charred but not broken. You lever open the door after trying a few unsuccessful techniques. The Imperial is tall and thickset, looks like she could almost have levered the door open by herself. A single red streak in the black hair falling over her face could denote artistic tendancies or rank; judging by the uniform and her cold affect you guess the latter. "Thought you had to make a profit somehow, I suppose," the imperial said as she edged through the door. Instead of sounding disapproving, her tone was one of admiration for a fellow haggler. "We can go out this way, but I'm not sure how much of the ship is left." "I can make this very easy for you. If you see the minister for defense, tell him that his twin sister has stepped off the mortal plane." "She's dead?" "I am not, simpleton. But if you tell him that, and he doesn't like you, you'll buy yourself some time as a bearer of good news." "So are you a minister?" "Agriculture." "How useful right now." "Truly we are surrounded by the most bounteous of space fields. But the war needs supplies. The person who controls the farmers controls the troops." You pause. "You'll come with me?" "You will come with me. My rooms phased through here like those claws of yours cutting your ship up. I can get back to my ship." [[Follow her.]]

If an imperial expects to bargain so literally with her life, you'll take her bet. You return to the umbilical. It's time to brave the fire again. [[Open the airlock to the imperial ship, adding oxygen to the fire.]]

You both squeeze back through the door. She's rude, but she was right about the way the ships crashed together; slivers of imperial rooms are now lacunae inside the freighter. The imperial suite beyind is relatively untouched. Sigils of past wars hang above the bed, revered in gaudy pantomime of patrioitism. Past the suite is the ship's central hall, equally decorated. The wall to your right cracks. As you turn, you see liquid oozing through. Fire, and now this? It's gray-green and cracked, some strange surface tension - but then the creature turns and what looked like a liquid surface was the sheen of scales under ship lights. It scratches, tearing away layers already stripped by the crash, and then pushes a face through the breach and shakes to fit the shoulders through. Its back is armored like the ship in thick white plates studded with black bolts. Could it have been spun out of the air by the crash, forward momentum hitting a wall so hard that it transformed with kinetic intent in to an entirely different shape? It stumbled on the shifting scree on four long legs. You were never warned about this. Your planet did not know to prepare you to fear this. Nevertheless, the predator-signs are there in the fanged mouth and the speed with which it recovers its balance. Those jaws could take your head. You don't see any eyes, but note wrinkles of scar tissue where the plating meets the rubbery skin above the red mouth. It moves toward you. The imperial woman doesn't snarl out loud, but you can almost hear the sound in her hunched shoulders and bared teeth. Not a manifestation of the wreckage, then. Not with a tread so heavy. Maybe an imperial bodyguard. Your companion pulls out out a weapon. It's a little black box, and she holds it like it's too specialized to hurt her but well suited to the beast. The eyeless creature lifts its head as if sniffing. It knows something. [["They taught you how to kill these things in finishing school, right?"]] [["What did I do to deserve this?"]]

You stumble backwards, searching for something in the remnants of the white, crumbling wall and the imperial propaganda. You had never wanted to get involved, but you're not sure it's possible to get any more involved than you already are...there. There's a spear, ceremonial but long and heavy. You try to lever it out from under a metal plate, but meanwhile the creature is getting closer. It's oddly quiet for something that big. You realize that it isn't breathing. The rubbery-looking mouth remains closed, even though you can see the seam of it getting uncomfortably close. You wrench the spear up. It's badly weighted, heavier toward both ends where it had been hung with banners. The metal tips threaten to drag your hands down, but you raise it and swing toward the creature's nose. The first hit bounces off and nearly unbalances you. You glance back along the hallway you came from, entertaining thoughts of driving the beast into the airlock. Maybe something over there is still on fire. Would that hide burn? Then the creature lunges. There the open mouth, there a blast of clean, electrical heat. You duck, find yourself burrowing under a slab like a desperate lizard. Some instinct was preserved in your terror, though, and you half-fall, half push yourself underneath a chunk of the wall. Your back fetches up against something so angular you can feel it through your suit. The spear is still in front of you, gold against the blue-gray of the mouth. The inside of this creature isn't red. You jam the spear against the side of the mouth. For a moment it just sticks, a gummy, slick surface that isn't muscle resisting like the surface of a bubble. Then the spear rips the membrane. Like the creature ripping at the spaceship, it's only strong enough to rip the inside layer, the functional or decorative material inside the skin. A sound huffs up from the throat, which is now a hole into darkness in front of you. It's just a blast of air, but it's more distress than you've ever heard from this creature before, and it tightens your own throat. When the creature pulls back, it takes the spear with it. The movement is mechanical, as if it's retracing its steps exactly into the room beyond. Now that the creature has twisted to the side, you can see that the breached place used to be a boardroom before the table was warped and most of the chairs smashed flat. You press yourself further into the cave you've formed. If you wiggle your shoulders, you can make a little more room. Standing up is going to be a challenge, since most of your weights is on your own tail with your feet scrabbling against the chunk of wall. You'll take care of that later, though, when the beast decides what it's going to do after it retreats. The spear hangs out of the white mouth. [[Stay hidden.]] [[Stand up.]]

You back away, pieces of the broken wall pressing sharp edges against the backs of your ankles. There have been plenty of opportunities since the crash to think about what you expect death to feel like, what terror and measurement. Would you rather die in an open field, aware of the age of the dirt under you? Would you rather die in this gullet, cocooned away from the freeze of space like a chick in an egg - but drowning, being eaten by acids, thankful warm meat? Instead, there isn't time for comparison. The creature crouches, looking at you with its stock-still shoulders. You sign spacer slang, three silent words broad enough to be understood by several species in several kinds of heavy spacesuit glove. You sign /distress/, because sometimes doing that makes you feel good enough not to speak your distress out loud. Eyes resolve in the heavy head. They're tiny blue nodes, simple and without irises. Appearing on the skin just below the armor, they give an impression of alertness but not awareness, like an on/off button on a console. They emerged out of the skin as small, white lumps at first, then resolved faster than you could see into a fine, slightly wet-looking nictitating membrane. The beast is attending. You lift your hands and sign again. This time the sign is even more broad, a sweeping gesture adapted from spacedocks. /Stop/. The columnar legs gather underneath the body. Among other things, the signs have saved you from laughing. You hold the nervous panic in. There's no use for it. Instead, you might just have found a weapon. You sign /sit/ just to release the tension. The creature doesn't react, the blue indicators unmoving. Maybe this one, then? You struggle to remember a sign you didn't use very often. It was easier just to convoy ships together. The sign makes you think of a whole family of these armored beasts, little ones tagging behind their parent with big blue indicators. Maybe the panic isn't completely gone yet. /Follow./ [[Continue into the imperial ship.]] [[Try other signs.]]

You back away, pieces of the broken wall pressing sharp edges against the backs of your ankles. There have been plenty of opportunities since the crash to think about what you expect death to feel like, what terror and measurement. Would you rather die in an open field, aware of the age of the dirt under you? Would you rather die in this gullet, cocooned away from the freeze of space like a chick in an egg - but drowning, being eaten by acids, thankful warm meat? "Actually, I did," the minister says. "Agriculture, remember?" She presses her gloved hands together. Blue trace lines from her gloves indicate that she's seeing something on an overlay, but not revealing exactly what it is. She uses it to make a sign you recognize as spacer slang, useful for working in zero gravity without comms. Eyes resolve in the heavy head. They're tiny blue nodes, simple and without irises. Appearing on the skin just below the armor, they give an impression of alertness but not awareness, like an on/off button on a console. They emerged out of the skin as small, white lumps at first, then resolved faster than you could see into a fine, slightly wet-looking nictitating membrane. The beast is attending. The minister says /stop/, and the beast sits bac on its haunches and crumbles away another four feet of the wall as its shoulders happen to brush it. You can see a stateroom behind it, similarly wrecked, but the beast doesn't seem to be capable of blasting through bulkheads. "This is a guard. Not the emperor's most sophisticated defense, but it's here." Her voice shakes a little, but she recovers quickly. Yours sounds the same way. "What can you make it do?" "I can kill it - no, not exactly. That sign puts it in an off state. It's as alive as an engine with a dead battery. Or I can ask it to follow us." From her thin smile, she prefers the latter. [[Put the creature into rest mode.]] [[Instruct it to follow you.]]

You back away, pieces of the broken wall pressing sharp edges against the backs of your ankles. There have been plenty of opportunities since the crash to think about what you expect death to feel like, what terror and measurement. Would you rather die in an open field, aware of the age of the dirt under you? Would you rather die in this gullet, cocooned away from the freeze of space like a chick in an egg - but drowning, being eaten by acids, thankful warm meat? Instead, there isn't time for comparison. The creature crouches, looking at you with its stock-still shoulders. You sign spacer slang, three silent words broad enough to be understood by several species in several kinds of heavy spacesuit glove. The imperial woman reaches a hand out to you as if to join in or to tell you to stop, but then she goes quiet as she sees you know what you're doing. You sign /distress/, because sometimes doing that makes you feel good enough not to speak your distress out loud. Eyes resolve in the heavy head. They're tiny blue nodes, simple and without irises. Appearing on the skin just below the armor, they give an impression of alertness but not awareness, like an on/off button on a console. They emerged out of the skin as small, white lumps at first, then resolved faster than you could see into a fine, slightly wet-looking nictitating membrane. The beast is attending. You lift your hands and sign again. This time the sign is even more broad, a sweeping gesture adapted from spacedocks. /Stop/. The columnar legs gather underneath the body. Among other things, the signs have saved you from laughing. You hold the nervous panic in. There's no use for it. Instead, you might just have found a weapon. You sign /sit/ just to release the tension. The creature doesn't react, the blue indicators unmoving. Maybe this one, then? You struggle to remember a sign you didn't use very often. It was easier just to convoy ships together. The sign makes you think of a whole family of these armored beasts, little ones tagging behind their parent with big blue indicators. Maybe the panic isn't completely gone yet. [[Instruct it to follow you.]] [[Try another sign.]]

It seems more like a machine then an animal. When it follows you that impression remains. The creature shuffles quietly through fallen pieces of the hallway. You're nervous that it might cause another breach. It looks heavier than either of the ships' guns. What kind of war does this weapon suit? It was a problem of excess, you see. The Inner Planets had all the material and all the land, and when the power grab came it came gently. The first Empress was elected around the same time your people approached Earth from behind the sun, wary and curious. That was your war, but by the time Europa was annexed parts of it were habitable. That was one of those historic coincidences that seemed impossible a generation afterward. You’re several generations afterward. Your two species managed not to kill one another over interpretation of some choice pieces of vocabulary, although there were riots and attacks on both sides. Some of those still feel like yours. You like to think you know which side you would be on. The current emperor of the Inner Planets, now, though, that was the one that started the war. The strongest theory as to why is that they found something on Pluto, something the Outer Station scientists didn’t want Earth to find. It’s a theory so strong that it usually comes up before the cruelties are talked about, but still, there’s an element of rumor in it. Asteroid minors can’t have kicked up a war by themselves, can they, even if people were furious about conditions. Space takes care of itself, but no distance is too great for people not to petition the emperor. The Empress designed it that way. The miners petitioned with blockade ships, and the Outer Planets had been their own governments in all but name for too long, and when Europa sent drill ships out to join the blockade runners Earth and Mars started commissioning warships. There has been nothing but whispers from Pluto on the newsfeeds for a while, but when was that any different? Pluto and Charon are half-terraformed, air not yet breathable and people still arguing about which corporation owns which. Space smooths out eventually, but first there are ripples. Humans travel slower than your species. Their ships leave rougher wakes. Before today, you thought they would quietly catch up without bothering you. Out here, though. Isn’t Pluto-Charon the closest outpost to you now? Maybe even one of the gas giants, the remnants of scientific expeditions spinning lonely in their storms. The creature follows you quietly, its feet padding. The toes are clublilke but soft, without the clicking noise your own claws would make if you went barefoot. Judging by the profile you saw shortly before the crash, you’re reaching the limits of the inhabitable space. The engines are back here, sealed off. You don’t know the first thing about human propulsion designs, but you survived one fire already … The only way to call for help is from a computer, though, and for that you need the bridge or a crew member. A barracks room looks empty, almost abandoned; there aren’t enough blankets folded in the corner to cover the room. Two beds look like they might actually have been used, blankets tossed over hooks to make one hammock on either side of the narrow room. The room would have been used for scientific research during the day to conserve space, but there isn’t any evidence of that either. Cubbyholes and server racks are empty. They probably didn’t expect anyone, either alien or human, to see this. But why the Imperial seal? You turn away from the barracks room. Instead, you approach the bridge. [[Open the door.]]

You test out what you have learned. [[/Stay./]] [[/Speak./]]

The creature backs up. For a while it just stands in the other room, occasionally ruminating so that the spear bobs around. It strikes you as funny, more formless than intimidating, even if it was just trying to eat you. You wait several minutes before you try to stand up cautiously, but there's no way to disguise the scraping sounds as you wiggle your weight around and bruise your knees getting your feet under you. The creature stands in eyeless ignorance, seemingly consumed with the idea of dislodging the spear. The more you look at it, the more machinelike it looks. Maybe it's even part of the ship, extruded intentionally from a bulkhead somewhere. Maybe without commands, it won't attack. You don't trust that idea enough not to carry the spear as you edge down the hall. [[Move further into the ship.]]

The creature just stands in the other room, occasionally ruminating so that the spear bobs around. It strikes you as funny, more formless than intimidating, even if it was just trying to eat you. You try to stand up cautiously, but there's no way to disguise the scraping sounds as you wiggle your weight around and bruise your knees getting your feet under you. The creature stands in eyeless ignorance, seemingly consumed with the idea of dislodging the spear. The more you look at it, the more machinelike it looks. Maybe it's even part of the ship, intentionally extruded from a bulkhead somewhere. Maybe without commands, it won't attack. You don't trust that idea enough not to keep looking back as you edge down the hall. [[Move further into the ship.]]

The creature just stands in the other room, occasionally ruminating. It strikes you as funny, more formless than intimidating, even if it was just trying to eat you. It stands in eyeless ignorance, seemingly consumed with the idea of examining the hallway. The more you look at it, the more machinelike it looks. Maybe it's even part of the ship, extruded from a bulkhead somewhere. Maybe without commands, it won't attack. You meet the imperial minister's eyes with weary shock. Both of you breathe a sigh of relief. For a moment you're still in front of the strangely sanitized form of the creature, the rubbery white skin and the chest that doesn't rise and fall. It seems more like a machine then an animal. When it follows you that impression remains. The creature shuffles quietly through fallen pieces of the hallway. You're nervous that it might cause another breach. It looks heavier than either of the ships' guns. You glance at the minister. "What's your name?" "Amelia," she says. "Amelia Bracken." You tell her your name. "I'm sorry," she says, and it sounds sincere. "Sorry that you ended up in our war." "You're right that it isn't mine. But I don't think it cares." She gives you a tight smile. This was never your war. It was a problem of excess, you see. The Inner Planets had all the material and all the land, and when the power grab came it came gently. The first Empress was elected around the same time your people approached Earth from behind the sun, wary and curious. That was your war, but by the time Europa was annexed parts of it were habitable. That was one of those historic coincidences that seemed impossible a generation afterward. You’re several generations afterward. Your two species managed not to kill one another over interpretation of some choice pieces of vocabulary, although there were riots and attacks on both sides. Some of those still feel like yours. You like to think you know which side you would be on. The emperor of the Inner Planets, now, though, that was the one that started the war. The strongest theory as to why is that he found something on Pluto, something the Outer Station scientists didn’t want Earth to find. It’s a theory so strong that it usually comes up before the cruelties are talked about, but still, there’s an element of rumor in it. Asteroid minors can’t have kicked up a war by themselves, can they, even if people were furious about conditions. Space takes care of itself, but no distance is too great for people not to petition the emperor. The Empress designed it that way. The miners petitioned with blockade ships, and the Outer Planets had been their own governments in all but name for too long, and when Europa sent drill ships out to join the blockade runners Earth and Mars started commissioning warships. There has been nothing but whispers from Pluto on the newsfeeds for a while, but when was that any different? Pluto and Charon are half-terraformed, air not yet breathable and people still arguing about which corporation owns which. Space smooths out eventually, but first there are ripples. Humans travel slower than your species. Their ships leave rougher wakes. Before today, you thought they would quietly catch up without bothering you. Out here, though. Isn’t Pluto-Charon the closest outpost to you now? Maybe even one of the gas giants, the remnants of scientific expeditions spinning lonely in their storms. You glance back at the minister as you walk. Judging by the profile you saw shortly before the crash, you’re reaching the limits of the inhabitable space. The engines are back here, sealed off. You don’t know the first thing about human propulsion designs, but you survived one fire already … The only way to call for help is from a computer, though, and for that you need the bridge or a crew member. A barracks room looks empty, almost abandoned; there aren’t enough blankets folded in the corner to cover the room. Two beds look like they might actually have been used, blankets tossed over hooks to make one hammock on either side of the narrow room. The room would have been used for scientific research during the day to conserve space, but there isn’t any evidence of that either. Cubbyholes and server racks are empty. They probably didn’t expect anyone, either alien or human, to see this. But why the Imperial seal? You turn away from the barracks room. Instead, you approach the bridge. Amelia opens the door. The air inside is as still and clear as in the hall, and the two occupants appear to be sitting at the controls of the ship quite happily. One, you recognize immediately as a member of your own species, a young girl just growing her full feather crest. You're so startled by finding a saurian on a human ship that it takes you a moment to recognize the person beside her from news feeds. The emperor of the Solar System is staring at you, their white cowl pushed back from over large, dark eyes. What a responsibility those shoulders hold. You wish you hadn't become a part of it. Amelia walks forward, eclipsing your view of the emperor. She explains where you came from, says 'freak accident' like you didn't know the enormous scope of your inconvenience until she gave it a label. "They're with me," she says, as if you're going to a party instead of negotiating your way around an alien secret. She probably chooses the pronoun for you because between the bulky suit and not being able to see the back of your head she can't tell your gender, but you're all right with her choice. The emperor hones in on you. Meets your eyes around Amelia and even she just turns, caught up in the tidal pull of that stare. Their voice sounds young and soft, but now there's an edge of vitriolic panic to it. Usually, when you hear that sound it means someone has made a dangerous assumption very quickly. They aren't convinced it was an accident either. "What were you really doing out here?" the emperor hisses. [["I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be. You crashed into my ship."]] [["I could ask you the same thing."]]

You meet the imperial minister's eyes with weary shock. Both of you breathe a sigh of relief. For a moment you're still in front of the strangely sanitized form of the creature, the rubbery white skin and the chest that doesn't rise and fall. It seems more like a machine then an animal. When it follows you that impression remains. The creature shuffles quietly through fallen pieces of the hallway. You're nervous that it might cause another breach. It looks heavier than either of the ships' guns. You glance at the minister. "What's your name?" "Amelia," she says. "Amelia Bracken." "We'll be safer with it here." You still think of the creature as a machine automatically, although you want to correct yourself. "Her? Him?" "She's a weapon," says Amelia Bracken. "We might need her." This was never your war. It was a problem of excess, you see. The Inner Planets had all the material and all the land, and when the power grab came it came gently. The first Empress was elected around the same time your people approached Earth from behind the sun, wary and curious. That was your war, but by the time Europa was annexed parts of it were habitable. That was one of those historic coincidences that seemed impossible a generation afterward. You’re several generations afterward. Your two species managed not to kill one another over interpretation of some choice pieces of vocabulary, although there were riots and attacks on both sides. Some of those still feel like yours. You like to think you know which side you would be on. The current emperor of the Inner Planets, now, though, that was the one that started the war. The strongest theory as to why is that they found something on Pluto, something the Outer Station scientists didn’t want Earth to find. It’s a theory so strong that it usually comes up before the cruelties are talked about, but still, there’s an element of rumor in it. Asteroid minors can’t have kicked up a war by themselves, can they, even if people were furious about conditions. Space takes care of itself, but no distance is too great for people not to petition the emperor. The Empress designed it that way. The miners petitioned with blockade ships, and the Outer Planets had been their own governments in all but name for too long, and when Europa sent drill ships out to join the blockade runners Earth and Mars started commissioning warships. There has been nothing but whispers from Pluto on the newsfeeds for a while, but when was that any different? Pluto and Charon are half-terraformed, air not yet breathable and people still arguing about which corporation owns which. Space smooths out eventually, but first there are ripples. Humans travel slower than your species. Their ships leave rougher wakes. Before today, you thought they would quietly catch up without bothering you. Out here, though. Isn’t Pluto-Charon the closest outpost to you now? Maybe even one of the gas giants, the remnants of scientific expeditions spinning lonely in their storms. You occasionally look back as you move through the ship. Amelia is touching the creature on the shoulder every few steps. Judging by the profile you saw shortly before the crash, you’re reaching the limits of the inhabitable space. The engines are back here, sealed off. You don’t know the first thing about human propulsion designs, but you survived one fire already … The only way to call for help is from a computer, though, and for that you need the bridge or a crew member. A barracks room looks empty, almost abandoned; there aren’t enough blankets folded in the corner to cover the room. Two beds look like they might actually have been used, blankets tossed over hooks to make one hammock on either side of the narrow room. The room would have been used for scientific research during the day to conserve space, but there isn’t any evidence of that either. Cubbyholes and server racks are empty. They probably didn’t expect anyone, either alien or human, to see this. But why the Imperial seal? You turn away from the barracks room. Instead, you approach the bridge. Amelia leads the way, palming the door open. There are two people inside, sitting at the pilot and co-pilot seats. Neither are wearing helmets. When you turn around you see that one is a saurian, the same species as you, young enough that her feathers haven't quite grown in. The other wears the white robes and sigil of the human emperor. [[Send the creature on ahead, as a threat.]] [[Calm the creature and make sure it walks behind you.]]

The creature opens its mouth. The voice that comes out a female, deep and rich. "Attention freighter, you have entered imperial convoy space. Please adjust swarm settings to avoid undertow and state your registration." Huh. You never received that message. [[/Stay./]] [[Continue into the imperial ship.]]

Carrying the spear, you press forward. This wasn't your war to start with, and it won't be now. You suppose that with no one around to assess your nobility, you might as well be noble out of spite alone. This was never your war. It was a problem of excess, you see. The Inner Planets had all the material and all the land, and when the power grab came it came gently. The first Empress was elected around the same time your people approached Earth from behind the sun, wary and curious. That was your war, but by the time Europa was annexed parts of it were habitable. That was one of those historic coincidences that seemed impossible a generation afterward. You’re several generations afterward. Your two species managed not to kill one another over interpretation of some choice pieces of vocabulary, although there were riots and attacks on both sides. Some of those still feel like yours. You like to think you know which side you would be on. The current emperor of the Inner Planets, now, though, that was the one that started the war. The strongest theory as to why is that they found something on Pluto, something the Outer Station scientists didn’t want Earth to find. It’s a theory so strong that it usually comes up before the cruelties are talked about, but still, there’s an element of rumor in it. Asteroid minors can’t have kicked up a war by themselves, can they, even if people were furious about conditions. Space takes care of itself, but no distance is too great for people not to petition the emperor. The Empress designed it that way. The miners petitioned with blockade ships, and the Outer Planets had been their own governments in all but name for too long, and when Europa sent drill ships out to join the blockade runners Earth and Mars started commissioning warships. There has been nothing but whispers from Pluto on the newsfeeds for a while, but when was that any different? Pluto and Charon are half-terraformed, air not yet breathable and people still arguing about which corporation owns which. Space smooths out eventually, but first there are ripples. Humans travel slower than your species. Their ships leave rougher wakes. Before today, you thought they would quietly catch up without bothering you. Out here, though. Isn’t Pluto-Charon the closest outpost to you now? Maybe even one of the gas giants, the remnants of scientific expeditions spinning lonely in their storms. You hold the spear tighter as you move through the warship. Judging by the profile you saw shortly before the crash, you’re reaching the limits of the inhabitable space. The engines are back here, sealed off. You don’t know the first thing about human propulsion designs, but you survived one fire already … The only way to call for help is from a computer, though, and for that you need the bridge or a crew member. A barracks room looks empty, almost abandoned; there aren’t enough blankets folded in the corner to cover the room. Two beds look like they might actually have been used, blankets tossed over hooks to make one hammock on either side of the narrow room. The room would have been used for scientific research during the day to conserve space, but there isn’t any evidence of that either. Cubbyholes and server racks are empty. They probably didn’t expect anyone, either alien or human, to see this. But why the Imperial seal? You turn away from the barracks room. Instead, you approach the bridge. [[Pull the emergency handle to force the door open.]] [[Knock on the bulkhead.]]

You test out what you have learned. [[Tell it to stay.]] [[Tell it to speak.]]

The creature swings its head back and forth, apparently unconcerned. [[/Speak./]] [[Continue into the imperial ship.]]

The creature opens its mouth. The voice that comes out is a female voice, deep and rich. "Attention freighter, you have entered imperial convoy space. Please adjust swarm settings to avoid undertow and state your registration." Huh. You never received that message. [[Tell it to stay.]] [[Instruct it to follow you.]]

The creature swings its head back and forth, apparently unconcerned. [[Tell it to speak.]] [[Instruct it to follow you.]]

You see the emperor of the human's myriad colonies, from crowded Earth to Europa's floating frontier pods. They're sitting far down in the bridge in the pilot's seat with their head in their hands, so that for a moment all you can see is a shock of brown hair. The person in the middle of the bridge stops mid-rant. She's headed toward the navigation console, but her hands are flung up in a strangely human gesture of frustration. Strange on her because she's a saurian like you, young and lanky and with an unusually long ruff of horns spiking from the back of her head. "...a guard who escaped or that creature you keep in the server room or -" She stopped. "Or the spacer." You say, "Hello. I didn't expect ..." "A saurian? A recalcitrant emperor? A living server?" The girl tips her head. "It's a program," the emperor mutters. You still haven't seen their face. "It isn't a server. There were sensible people in Tsoropilis, kind people. You could hold a conversation there.” “I get it.” You’re not sure that you do. “But the ship is on fire right now, see, so …” Her spines rise. “Why did you come here alone?” [["I wanted to be quick."]] [["I didn't need any help."]]

After a few minutes, someone opens the bulkhead. She's headed toward the navigation console, but her hands are flung up in a strangely human gesture of frustration. Strange on her because she's a saurian like you, young and lanky and with an unusually long ruff of horns spiking from the back of her head. "...a guard who escaped or that creature you keep in the server room or -" She stopped. "Or the spacer." You say, "Hello. I didn't expect ..." "A saurian? A recalcitrant emperor? A living server?" The saurian hesitates and turns slightly away. She isn't afraid for her life, you think. Or doesn't mind whether you have a weapon. Behind her, in the pilot's seat, sits a human in the white robes and amulet of the emperor. Your breath catches. The crash suddenly feels dangerous on an entirely different level. You were in a comfortable backwater before, a sentient being just doing a job, likely to work something out with even a diplomat on their rushed way to some work for Earth. Now, though, your actions will be watched. "It's a program," the emperor mutters. You still haven't seen their face. "It isn't a server. There were sensible people in Tsoropilis, kind people. You could hold a conversation there.” “I get it.” You’re not sure that you do. “But the ship is on fire right now, see, so …” The saurian girl steps closer to you. Her spines rise. “Why did you come here alone?” [["I didn't need any help."]] [["I don't know that anyone else survived."]]

"I'm sure you don't," the emperor says. "Remove them." The humans will keep their secrets. The young saurian's grip is surprisingly strong when she takes your arm. You protest, but she pushes you to a supply shelf by the side of the bridge and ties you there with plastic cord. She and the emperor argue about where to go, and you learn that they hit you on purpose. Not because you were a trader, but because you were in the wrong place. They're hiding something, out on Pluto. They're arguing about whether they should crash the ship somewhere remote, where no one will find it, just to keep the secret. You tug on the cords, but you have no allies to help you cut free. The shouting from the bridge is getting louder, and you realize you never saw the emperor's eyes. Fin. [[Start]]

The emperor stands up. Along with their mussed hair, their makeup is spilling down red cheeks. Their voice is strong, though. "I know you have no reason to be loyal to me, but this ship is in this situation because I had to keep a secret." "You rammed me?" The emperor sighs, looks at you with wide eyes. "We could't let anyone who wasn't human know." That's terrible, you think. I've gotten myself into a conspiracy, you think. What's the saurian girl doing here if this is a human mission? You try to relax, to look less threatening. They might like that. "It will be better if you do what we say," the emperor says. "I'm terribly sorry we got you into this. I know that isn't sufficient." It's not. "It's a picnic." "We will feed you, for as long as we can." Oh stars. What does 'as long as we can' mean? "So who else knows?" you say. "Aren't we just as lost out here?" "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts. "Food will be prioritized if it comes to that," the emperor says, then seems to lose sight of you and addresses the girl. "Please remove them." It's like a last gasp at courtliness. The young saurian's grip is surprisingly strong when she takes your arm. You protest, but she pushes you to a supply shelf by the side of the bridge and ties you there with plastic cord. "Sorry," she says, before she leaves you. It isn't reassuring. She and the emperor argue about where to go. Not because you were a trader, but because you were in the wrong place. They're hiding something, out on Pluto. They're arguing about whether they should crash the ship somewhere remote, where no one will find it, just to keep the secret. You tug on the cords, but you have no allies to help you cut free. The shouting from the pilot's seat is getting louder. Your claws dig into the cord. It's going to be a long trip. Fin. [[Start]]

"I think the minister for agriculture did." The emperor stands up. Along with their mussed hair, their makeup is spilling down red cheeks. Their voice is strong, though. "I know you have no reason to be loyal to me, but this ship is in this situation because I had to keep a secret." "You rammed me?" The emperor sighs, looks at you with wide eyes. "We could't let anyone who wasn't human know." That's terrible, you think. I've gotten myself into a conspiracy, you think. What's the saurian girl doing here if this is a human mission? You try to relax, to look less threatening. They might like that. "It will be better if you do what we say," the emperor says. "I'm terribly sorry we got you into this. I know that isn't sufficient." It's not. "It's a picnic." "We will feed you, for as long as we can." Oh stars. What does 'as long as we can' mean? "So who else knows?" you say. "Aren't we just as lost out here?" "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts. "Food will be prioritized if it comes to that," the emperor says, then seems to lose sight of you and addresses the girl. "Please remove them." It's like a last gasp at courtliness. The girl comes forward and puts her hand on your elbow, steering you suddenly around to the back of the bridge. You protest, but she pushes you to a supply shelf by the side of the bridge and ties you there with plastic cord. You see in the slackness of her mouth and of her feathers that she's losing something too, some belief in her own treachery or duty. "Sorry," she says, before she leaves you. It isn't reassuring. She and the emperor argue about where to go. Not because you were a trader, but because you were in the wrong place. They're hiding something, out on Pluto. They're arguing about whether they should crash the ship somewhere remote, where no one will find it, just to keep the secret. You tug on the cords, but you have no allies to help you cut free. The shouting from the bridge is getting louder. Your fingers dig against the cord, but your claws are gloved. It's going to be a long trip. Fin. [[Start]]

The bulkhead doesn't lock except in the case of an emergency, the sign next to the door says. You are pretty sure this is an emergency, but the door slides open anyway, admitting air no different than the stagnating air in the hallway. There are two people on the bridge. The emperor of the myriad human colonies, from crowded Earth to the distant floating frontiers of Europa, is slumped over toward the pilot's console. You recognize the sigil on the shoulders of their white robes. The other person was stepping toward the door when you walked in. She's saurian like you, young and thin with an unusually long fan of spikes on the back of her head. The creature whuffs at her from behind you. She startles as soon as she sees you. "Soneone survived! I mean, you survived. You. The pilot." "What happened to my ship?" It seems like the most direct question. The saurian hesitates. The emperor looks up. Their eyes are red, makeup running across blotchy cheeks. They look older than you, but also like they've given up. "You shouldn't be here." "Why?" You take another step into the room, and the creature follows. It ducks under the door, and when you look back at it you realize that it's angrier than before, back to the odd jumping between twitches and stillness that it exhibited before you learned how to command it. "Explain or I take this ship." The two others glance at you. They know you can, maybe. The controls look familiar, standardized to the same multispecies solar system regulations as your trade ship. You're lucky in just one way today. "It's important that you don't." The emperor has regained some of their composure and walks toward you. "My name is Adrian. This ship is carrying something that needs to be taken to Pluto." They glance at the creature. Is this the secret? cargo? Did they ram you on purpose, to keep this beast and its capabilities hidden from any given person living in the solar system? "It will help the terraforming effort, but it could be dangerous if it's used without regulation." "Is it this creature?" You ask. "Please, sit, and let us finish our journey as best we can. We didn't expect to find anyone out here." "So you decided to kill anyone who was in the way?" "We had to make sacrifices too," the emperor says. The saurian looks down at her feet. Maybe she knows she's a traitor. "Greater sacrifices than my ship?" "This sacrifice determines the fate of either your people or mine," the emperor says. "Which one do you choose?" You don't think your loyalty is clear-cut here. The emperor seems to be hiding something from their own people. [[Tell the creature to attack the emperor.]] [[Tell the creature to attack the saurian.]] [[Listen to what they have to say.]]

“Kill the emperor,” you say. Those three words seem like they should feel more consequential coming out of your mouth. As soon as they do, you feel more justified - this human was keeping secrets. For all you know, the saurian girl could be enslaved or tricked as part of their plan. The fire on your ship, on your livelihood, has probably stopped burning by now as the air on the other side of the umbilical runs out. The creature pushes past you and the saurian almost soundlessly. It’s not so much a bite as an engulfing. The rubbery mouth closes around the emperor when they’re half out of their seat. The girl cries out, and you feel stiff, vulnerable, defensive. You want to bare your teeth at her. The creature turns around, and now there's some sound; its hide scrapes against the pilot's chair with a slick peeling noise. The girl looks at you. "That's ours. That's our weapon, and you just used it to ..." She seems ready to demand that you give the creature back. "Do you know the details of this mission?" you ask. "No." "Then there's no reason to kill you." "Maybe you already have. You know this ship is stuck here, and without their information, we're not a valuable political target." Her voice rises. "We're drifting on our way to a research base that even I don't know what it does. We halved our own chances of survival when we encountered your ship just after the battle. Now? "I was born on Earth," she says. This too makes her different from you. "I have two sisters who wanted to go to space. Now I hope they never do." You look at the controls. The creature sits down by the side of the wall, maybe recharging. You look at the space outside the bridge, the distant stars somewhere beyond the solar system in which you drift. You'll take the ship to the nearest outpost, you think. The girl is yammering, but you tune her out. You're going have to deal with her. Both of you are going to see that view for a long time. Fin. [[Start]]

The girl is either a traitor or coerced, and very rapidly you hope for first one and then the other. Is it so easy to think of humanity as superior to your own people on their own territory? Maybe it's more pleasant to think of her as a captive than as a turncoat. In the end, what you think of just before you order her death is that the creature is an efficient weapon to get the human leader to do what you want. The fire on your ship, on your livelihood, has probably stopped burning by now as the air on the other side of the umbilical runs out. The creature pushes past you almost soundlessly. It’s not so much a bite as an engulfing. The rubbery mouth closes around the girl just as she starts to run. The emperor cries out, and you feel stiff, vulnerable, defensive. You want to bare your teeth at them. The creature turns around, and now there's some sound; its hide scrapes against the pilot's chair with a slick peeling noise. It sits down, becomes so still that it looks like a machine again. The emperor sobs. You didn't expect such a quick reaction, and pause in your planning. It's just one sob, and then the emperor stands with the blackness of space behind them and looks at you. "You wanted to save your ship? And this is how you do it?" To say yes would be redundant. "She was an engineer, a field scout, a lot of things. She was the one who could have repaired the ship, not me." They start breathing fast, and you realize that you are too. The creature might be the only one of you that doesn't have to breathe, the only one who won't mind when life support gives out. You could repair your own ship in a pinch, but you've already seen that damage, the thick hull torn away. There is no sanctuary there. The emperor approaches you. They come close, not threatening but just looking at you. Wide, dark eyes look out from under the white robe. The robe and pendant might be ceremonial, or they might just like to dress that way. You don't know. You don't know a lot of things. "You've made my decision very easy," they say. They're stony, not angry but with a pent-up tectonic energy in every movement of their slim body. "I worried for so long about whether the information we have would be taken from me before I could get to Pluto, whether the saurians or the colonists or just some other person who didn't get the vote would find it and use it against the Solar System. Now, it could be one hundred years before someone thinks to dig in that spot, to find that weapon. Now, space has taken care of itself. If you hadn't fallen into the middle of our fight ... well, then, we would still have a fight." You stare at them, realizing what they're saying. Neither of you will survive this. You're stuck in space now, without the engineer. You don't think there's a chance for a second ship to plot this course, to run into a coincidence so astronomically high in the long, long emptiness between the moving planets. Colonization is slow and ships are slow and your death will be slow, and you'll be saving the world all the while. You say, "We'll protect this information with our lives." The emperor looks around at the dwindling power and the still, oh-so-still creature sitting like a patient pet. You wonder whether its white skin is edible. The emperor says, "That is exactly what we will do." Fin. [[Start]]

"I chose to listen," you say. The emperor sits back in their seat. They raise one hand, as if tempted to lower the white cowl they wear. "It's a relief. I can tell you. I haven't been able to tell anyone in years! None of my ministers, none of the delegates - just in case we weren't able to lock it down!" They almost giggle. There's a sob in it. You glance at the girl, wondering whether she's here of her own accord or because she was captured or because of some treaty with the humans. She lowers her crest feathers in a sympathetic retreat. You sit. Go to the chair next to the emperor's and put your feet underneath you and your arms on the back of the chair, half sunning and half curling up like a child. The emperor draws their feet up too. Two children, in front of the blackness of space, and the youngest person in the room stands tall with her arms crossed and her crest slowly filling out. "It's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" you ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," the girl says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." You turn in your chair. "What's your name?" you ask. "Greel." You don't think there's a chance for a second ship to plot this course, to run into a coincidence so astronomically high in the long, long emptiness between the moving planets. The creature might be the only one of you that doesn't have to breathe, the only one who won't mind when life support gives out. You could repair your own ship in a pinch, but you've already seen that damage, the thick hull torn away. There is no sanctuary there. She tells her story. You wait in dawning terror. You'll have a long time to learn it. Fin. [[Start]]

"We crashed! The emptiness of space and you think we happened to crash." The girl gestured wide in disgust. You feel your feathers lowering in defensive alarm. The emperor speaks softly from the pilot's chair. "It's all right, Greel." The girl shifts foot-to-foot with nervous energy that bleeds off her as the emperor stands and approaches you. "You're right to be disgusted," they say. It's a plot, sure, an appeal to your better nature, but there's also something honest about it. The emperor neither denies their power nor pushes you around. "I'm glad you're okay, Amelia. Between her, Greel, and I we should be able to get the ship running again." Amelia sighs, smiles a soft smile at the emperor. "You sure you should tell?" she says. The emperor sighs. The look that passes between them has some sort of obligation in it, some agreement. Although they seem to disgree, you get the sense that they have in fact just begun the unraveling of a heavily ordered plan. It's a war pact that takes two. "There's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" You ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," the girl says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." [["I won't forgive you for this."]] [["If I get repaid for my cargo and get out of here alive I'll forgive it all."]]

"I haven't been able to tell anyone in years! None of my ministers, none of the delegates - just in case we weren't able to lock it down!" They almost giggle. There's a sob in it. You glance at the girl, wondering whether she's here of her own accord or because she was captured or because of some treaty with the humans. She lowers her crest feathers in a sympathetic retreat. "You sure you should tell?" Amelia says. She sounds jumpy. The emperor sighs. The look that passes between them has some sort of obligation in it, some agreement. Although they seem to disgree, you get the sense that they have in fact just begun the unraveling of a heavily ordered plan. It's a war pact that takes two. "There's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" you ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," the girl says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." "I'm sorry we involved you in this," Amelia says. You remember that she was the one who wasn't on the bridge when the two ships hit. Was she even part of the conspiracy? She had had the most to lose. [["I won't forgive you for this."]] [["If I get repaid for my cargo and get out of here alive I'll forgive it all."]]

Amelia looks at the emperor. "Adrian. This person saved my life." "And we thank you for that..." "We can make it," Amelia says. "For sure." The other saurian nods. "That's half the reason I'm here - scouting and repairs, as long as you give me some extra time for the universe to do its usual and make the project way longer than it needs. Science." She glances uneasily at the lights on the console. "Aren't we still just as lost out here?" you say. "I don't care about your conspiracy, or at least not more than I care about ... someday eating again." "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts." "Food will be prioritized if it comes to that," the emperor says. "Prioritized how?" you ask. "I'm the first to be cut off," Greel says softly. You turn to her. "What?" "I figured it out, right?" She looks between Amelia and Adrian. The emperor grips the back of their chair. Amelia stands still, too still not to betray her stress. "I knew when you said I was the one most likely to get us out of here. I'm a good scout, but I'm not that good. Not the best, not Monty Ride living-in-the-capital-building good. I'm way less connected than any of you. And that's why you'll use me as a story if you get caught." Adrian approached her. Greel let them. "You won't be punished if we get back to Earth. You took a great risk here, doing so much for an alien species when you are so young and we are so cosmically young." "But what if we don't get back to Earth? I didn't think this would happen. None of us thought this would happen. We can figure out a way to replicate food." "You know we don't have the resources for that. We've trusted in our own space travel capabilities too much, too. Should have packed better. We could eat the guard dog if we have to." The creature in the hallway, you think. What was it supposed to guard against? Pirates? Greel is shouting now, the words sinking into the heavily cladded walls without an echo. "But we've become friends! Adrian! I knew this was the plan but I didn't think you'd go through with it!" She's being too friendly, the analytical part of you thinks. She's trying to play up the frienship, but is being far too transparent about it. Now she'll look manipulative in front of the person who probably really does like her. Amelia folds her arms and bows her head. You look at Adrian. [["That isn't fair! She doesn't want this."]] [["You're right. It's the best way to save us all political chaos when we get back home.]]

"It's not an easy decision for any of us." Adrian says. "You'll all be rewarded when we get back." Back to Earth, you think. You have a long journey to pick up your life and get back to your own world even if you make it back to Earth. "I'm the smallest," Greel says, not waiting for your reply. "It isn't efficient for it to be me." "We arranged this," Adrian says, and their voice is rich and resonant. They're orating now, showing you how such a young person took the entirety of the solar system from a well-loved empress in a time of uncertain first and second and third and on-and-on contact. "You took an oath." Greel bows her head. The ferocity in her eyes has an extra edge as she looks at the stars. She's as a scout - she knew she had a higher than usual chance to die in space. "I'll go to the barracks room when I'm done with what repairs I can do. You don't want to get to attached to me if I'm starving." You visit her anyway. You will several times as the wait grows longer for the ships that Adrian and Greel both say are coming. The four of you grow thin, but the day does not yet come when Greel's rations will be cut off. She keeps the ship running, and you help. You don't make conversation, though - as mutual as the decision is, she knows that no one spoke up for her. You have basic repair skills on your own ship, more than enough to finally break off the half-burned umbilical and seal the imperial ship back up, cutting off the view of your cargo ship forever. You put your hand over your feathers for it, dimming your own luminence in respect of something greater than yourself. Greel hisses at you under her breath. You think you’ve done the best thing for the solar system by protecting the powerful technology the humans found on Pluto, saving it for further study, but you wish you didn’t have to sacrifice Greel's freedom in order to do it. Amelia grows colder by the day - you begin to think that the two of you would not have been friends if not for your dramatic meeting. The day you hear a signal from another human ship is the day you stop feeling guilty. Fin. [[Start]]

"Do you want to take her place?" Adrian asks. "I'm the smallest," Greel says, not waiting for your reply. "It isn't efficient for it to be me." "We arranged this," Adrian says, and their voice is rich and resonant. They're orating now, showing you how such a young person took the entirety of the solar system from a well-loved empress in a time of uncertain first and second and third and on-and-on contact. "You took an oath." Greel bows her head. The ferocity in her eyes has an extra edge as she looks at the stars. She's trained as a scout - she knew she had a higher than usual chance to die in space. "I'll go to the barracks room when I'm done with what repairs I can do. You don't want to get to attached to me if I'm starving." You protest. You will protest again, several times as the wait grows longer for the ships that Adrian and Greel both say are coming. The four of you grow thin, but the day does not yet come when Greel's rations will be cut off. She keeps the ship running, and it's that which allows you to negotiate, finally, that you should take her place. You have basic repair skills on your own ship, more than enough to finally break off the half-burned umbilical and seal the imperial ship back up, cutting off the view of your cargo ship forever. You put your hand over your feathers for it, dimming your own luminence in respect of something greater than yourself. You think you’ve done the best thing for the solar system by protecting the powerful technology the humans found on Pluto, saving it for further study, but you wish you didn’t have to sacrifice Greel's freedom in order to do it. Amelia grows colder by the day. You begin to think that the two of you would not have been friends if not for your dramatic meeting. The day you hear a signal from another human ship is the day you stop eating. Fin. [[Start]]

The creature shoulders in. You catch a glimpse of a small saurian sitting in one of the pilot seats. You say, "Don't move." Another voice comes from the second seat. It sounds human, but you can't see the speaker over the creature's bulk. "It's okay, Greel." The creatre turns toward you. Whatever the other person signed, it seems to have removed whatever control you had over the creature. The wide mouth opens, and when one leg moves forward you realize that you're caught between Amelia and the wall. The creature dives forward, and you only get out of the way of its mouth because Amelia reacts fast, retreating into the hallway. "No, we had it!" She yells. You dive forward, underneath the creature's muscled legs. It leaves Amelia in danger, but it gets you out of the way of the head. You can now see that the person in the pilot seat is a young human wearing the white robes and cowl of the emperor. You don't have much time to react to that. [[Attack the emperor.]] [[Plead with the saurian.]]

Amelia moves ahead of you as you walk in, the beast snuffling quietly behind you. "This is Adrian and Greel. Emperor and scout." "You're alive!" Adrian almost jumps out of their seat, their youthful face grinning. The wide, dark eyes look open - look almost like saurian eyes - but you know not to take everything such an accomplished politician says at face value. While Andrian clasps Amelia's hands, you exchange a look at the saurian girl in the co-pilot's seat. She waves a hand casually. "Who is this?" Adrian's gaze closes off as they look at you. "I trust them," Amelia says. "They rescued me from the burning ship when I went to investigate." "We locked down what we could after the crash ..." Amelia looks at the creature. "Your defenses are in good order." Adrian still seems suspicious. "You were in the cargo ship. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to hit you. We had navigation trouble - should have known it might end up in a diplomatic incident." You don't speak for your people, you think. You would have liked to remain apolitical. But now, you suppose, you can't. The emperor doesn't think so either. "This puts us in an awkward position, I'm afraid. Amelia trusts you, but we're going to be together for a while. Obviously you've found our guard creature and know more about human technology than we would like you to." We're not at war, you think. It's the humans who have the most delicate power struggles within their own system right now. Adrian is orating now, giving a speech. They aren't going to let you get a word in edgewise unless you say something shocking. Adrian does it instead. "So I ask you one thing in exchange. Tell us one secret of your own, and we'll tell you ours." There's no threat. No 'or else', although you wonder whether they might fight you back through the umbilical and into the breach. Is that it? A riddle for a pardon? It seems too easy. You riase your hands and see Adrian tense. It takes one sharp turn to unlock the seals on your helmet, and then you're breathing the stagnant air of the bridge, your feathers rising just because they've been pressed down for so long. You tell a secret. [["Amelia, I thought about leaving you behind."]] [["My ship was hauling redwood." They will know it's almost, but not quite, illegal.]] [["I'm afraid I'll die before I can fly another job again."]]

The emperor sighs. "Thank you." You can't quite meet Amelia's eyes. The look that passes between Adrian and Amelia has some sort of obligation in it, some agreement. You get the sense that they have in fact just begun the unraveling of a heavily ordered plan. It's a war pact that takes two. "There's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" you ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," Greel says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." Amelia looks at the emperor. "Adrian. This person saved my life." "And we thank you for that..." "We can make it," Amelia says. "For sure." The other saurian nods. "That's half the reason I'm here - scouting and repairs, as long as you give me some extra time for the universe to do its usual and make the project way longer than it needs. Science." She glances uneasily at the lights on the console. "Aren't we still just as lost out here?" you say. "I don't care about your conspiracy, or at least not more than I care about ... someday eating again." "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts." "We will," Adrian says, and smiles. "Because with you here, I can also call the embassy. Saurians are better ship-buildings than we are; they'll get here faster. We have a long wait, but plenty of supplies. And when they arrive, I'll keep your secret too." Do you trust this? Not completely, but it's worth the chance to get home safety. The bridge, with the recycled air gently ruffling your feathers, begins to feel comfortable instead of as unsteady as the burning wreck behind you. You nod. You meet Greel's gaze, suspicious but hoping that you'll be able to find common cause with her. Your cargo is ruined, but you're still alive. "And the other way around, too," you say. "We share the information about Pluto. We work it out together." Adrian looks uncomfortable. "I can't commit to ..." "Yes, you can," Amelia says. The emperor lowers their cowl, runs a hand through spiky brown hair. "Yes. Yes I can." You nod. "Then I agree." You wait. You get to know one another - Amelia's career, Adrian's childhood, Greel's unlikely hops through the Inner Planets military to get to where she was through a combination of skill and being astonishingly poorly connected, therefore avoiding anyone who might be a liabilty in Adrian's secretive inner circle. Amelia doesn't seem hurt by your secret; her mix of pragmatism and a willingness to insult means that even that bounces off. Three days later, Greel answers a hail. It will take a long time, but you're going home. Fin. [[Start]]

The emperor sighs. "Thank you." You can't quite meet Amelia's eyes. The look that passes between Adrian and Amelia has some sort of obligation in it, some agreement. You get the sense that they have in fact just begun the unraveling of a heavily ordered plan. It's a war pact that takes two. "There's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" you ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," Greel says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." Amelia looks at the emperor. "Adrian. This person saved my life." "And we thank you for that..." "We can make it," Amelia says. "For sure." The other saurian nods. "That's half the reason I'm here - scouting and repairs, as long as you give me some extra time for the universe to do its usual and make the project way longer than it needs. Science." She glances uneasily at the lights on the console. "Aren't we still just as lost out here?" you say. "I don't care about your conspiracy, or at least not more than I care about ... someday eating again." "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts." "We will," Adrian says, and smiles. "Because with you here, I can also call the embassy. Saurians are better ship-builders than we are; they'll get here faster. We have a long wait, but plenty of supplies. And when they arrive, I'll keep your secret too." Do you trust this? Not completely, but it's worth the chance to get home safety. The bridge, with the recycled air gently ruffling your feathers, begins to feel comfortable instead of as unsteady as the burning wreck behind you. You nod. You meet Greel's gaze, suspicious but hoping that you'll be able to find common cause with her. Your cargo is ruined, but you're still alive. "And the other way around, too," you say. "We share the information about Pluto. We work it out together." Adrian looks uncomfortable. "I can't commit to ..." "Yes, you can," Amelia says. The emperor lowers their cowl, runs a hand through spiky brown hair. "Yes. Yes I can." You nod. "Then I agree." You wait. You get to know one another - Amelia's career, Adrian's childhood, Greel's unlikely hops through the Inner Planets military to get to where she was through a combination of skill and being astonishingly poorly connected, therefore avoiding anyone who might be a liabilty in Adrian's secretive inner circle. Three days later, Greel answers a hail. It will take a long time, but you're going home. Fin. [[Start]]

The emperor sighs. "Thank you." You can't quite meet Amelia's eyes. The look that passes between Adrian and Amelia has some sort of obligation in it, some agreement. You get the sense that they have in fact just begun the unraveling of a heavily ordered plan. It's a war pact that takes two. "There's a tunneler," the emperor says. "On Pluto, we found a machine that can tunnel through FTL and catches on the fact of it like a spark catches on grass. It feeds off of space travel itself, so there's no need to expend energy to use it if you're from a spacefaring species. We think that's why it was placed out on Pluto, or that's why we've never found it yet, or perhaps that's why the Solar System formed the way it did at all. Gravity makes round orbits, but why nine? Why this arm of the galaxy, why is Earth placed at such a point where we can...where we could... see eclipses and have tides? There are reasons for this. But this might have been another one." "So it's a terraforming machine?" you ask. The word is known but not common. You wonder about the geocentrism it implies. "It's a fire that could catch. It could be used to terraform all of our rocky planets and moons almost instantly, or it could be used to make all of them inhospitable. It's a web around the system." Their voice catches. They seem to remember that this is not all theoretical. You think about your first view of the Solar System from the outside, a map you saw in creche. You had marveled at how many planets it had. "There would have been wars over this," the emperor says. "And now there won't be," Greel says sadly. "Not until someone else discovers it. We've locked it down." Amelia looks at the emperor. "Adrian. This person saved my life." "And we thank you for that..." "We can make it," Amelia says. "For sure." The other saurian nods. "That's half the reason I'm here - scouting and repairs, as long as you give me some extra time for the universe to do its usual and make the project way longer than it needs. Science." She glances uneasily at the lights on the console. "Aren't we still just as lost out here?" you say. "I don't care about your conspiracy, or at least not more than I care about ... someday eating again." "The quantum entanglement comm system was disabled in the crash," the emperor says. "But there's a chance we could get rescued if we wait long enough. Greel knows how to do some repairs. This is still a government ship - someone will find us. But the fewer people who know, the better." You look between the two of them, wondering if they plan to detain you on their own. "It won't be long," the emperor says. "We should be picked up by one of the pincers, the fast little ships ..." "Do we have enough food until then?" Now that you've gotten here you realize that you were hoping for more comfort, but these people seem as cold as your own thoughts." "We will," Adrian says, and smiles. "Because with you here, I can also call the embassy. Saurians are better ship-builders than we are; they'll get here faster. We have a long wait, but plenty of supplies. And when they arrive, I'll keep your secret too." Do you trust this? Not completely, but it's worth the chance to get home safety. The bridge, with the recycled air gently ruffling your feathers, begins to feel comfortable instead of as unsteady as the burning wreck behind you. You nod. You meet Greel's gaze, suspicious but hoping that you'll be able to find common cause with her. Your cargo is ruined, but you're still alive. "And the other way around, too," you say. "We share the information about Pluto. We work it out together." Adrian looks uncomfortable. "I can't commit to ..." "Yes, you can," Amelia says. The emperor lowers their cowl, runs a hand through spiky brown hair. "Yes. Yes I can." You nod. "Then I agree." You wait. You get to know one another - Amelia's career, Adrian's childhood, Greel's unlikely hops through the Inner Planets military to get to where she was through a combination of skill and being astonishingly poorly connected, therefore avoiding anyone who might be a liabilty in Adrian's secretive inner circle. You have some long talks about fear and about what you would do if you knew you were going to die, then don't talk for a while. Three days later, Greel answers a hail. It will take a long time, but you're going home. Fin. [[Start]]

You aren't going to take chances with someone else being able to use sign language to control the beast, and besides, this is the person who is directly responsible for all the fear and loss you've been through in the crash. You jump forward, intending to grab the emperor around the neck and hold them against the chair until you can choke out a surrender. The saurian stops you. She lunges forward, but won't quite touch you. You hesitate to hurt her anyway - she's practically a child, and her story is plain in the strange contrast of human formal clothing on a saurian frame. "Please, wait! We're stuck out here already, we don't need some - I mean, I'm sorry. You're the cargo pilot, right?" All this comes out in such a quick rush of the human language that you hardly have time to translate it. You're stuck standing there with your hands up, an attempt to attack now looking a lot like you had always meant to surrender. Behind you, the creature has gone very still. Its body almost fills up the hallway. In fact, it fits so perfectly that you understand it was probably bred or built or grown for this model of ship. A moment later it backs up slightly. You tense, but Amelia walks around the side and locks eyes with the emperor. "Adrian, Greel. It's okay. I'm back." The emperor hardly seems to have noticed your attack. Their shrewd, calm eyes seem to indicate that they had a plan, but the cold, politick attitude falls away when they see Amelia. They simply stand, edging around Greel the saurian to get to Amelia. "Thank you!" You and Greel eye one another. You both lower your hands. "Who is this?" Adrian's gaze closes off as they look at you. "I trust them," Amelia says. "They rescued me from the burning ship when I went to investigate." "We locked down what we could after the crash ..." Amelia looks at the creature. "Your defenses are in good order." Adrian still seems suspicious. "You were in the cargo ship. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to hit you. We had navigation trouble - should have known it might end up in a diplomatic incident." You don't speak for your people, you think. You would have liked to remain apolitical. But now, you suppose, you can't. The emperor doesn't think so either. "This puts us in an awkward position, I'm afraid. Amelia trusts you, but we're going to be together for a while. Obviously you've found our guard creature and know more about human technology than we would like you to." We're not at war, you think. It's the humans who have the most delicate power struggles within their own system right now. Adrian is orating now, giving a speech. They aren't going to let you get a word in edgewise unless you say something shocking. Adrian does it instead. "So I ask you one thing in exchange. Tell us one secret of your own, and we'll tell you ours." There's no threat. No 'or else', although you wonder whether they might fight you back through the umbilical and into the breach. Is that it? A riddle for a pardon? It seems too easy.. You riase your hands and see Adrian tense. It takes one sharp turn to unlock the seals on your helmet, and then you're breathing the stagnant air of the bridge, your feathers rising just because they've been pressed down for so long. You tell a secret. [["Amelia, I thought about leaving you behind."]] [["My ship was hauling redwood." They will know it's almost, but not quite, illegal.]] [["I'm afraid I'll die before I can fly another job again."]]

You hold your hands out toward the saurian. Between you and her, the emperor also starts to rise from their chair. "I'm not an enemy!" you say. "We found that thing. We tamed it!" The saurian is practically a child, and her story is plain in the strange contrast of human formal clothing on a saurian frame. "Please, wait! We're stuck out here already. I'm sorry. You're the cargo pilot, right?" All this comes out in such a quick rush of the human language that you hardly have time to translate it. At the same time, the emperor says "You and who else?" You're stuck standing there with your hands up, an attempt to attack now looking a lot like you had always meant to surrender. Behind you, the creature has gone very still. Its body almost fills up the hallway. In fact, it fits so perfectly that you understand it was probably bred or built or grown for this model of ship. A moment later it backs up slightly. You tense, but Amelia walks around the side and locks eyes with the emperor. "Adrian, Greel. It's okay. I'm back." The emperor hardly seems to have noticed your attack. Their shrewd, calm eyes seem to indicate that they had a plan, but the cold, politick attitude falls away when they see Amelia. They stand, edging around Greel the saurian to get to Amelia. "Thank you!" You and Greel eye one another. You both lower your hands. "Who is this?" Adrian's gaze closes off as they look at you. "I trust them," Amelia says. "They rescued me from the burning ship when I went to investigate." "We locked down what we could after the crash ..." Amelia looks at the creature. "Your defenses are in good order." Adrian still seems suspicious. Your breathing is slowing, though. The creature stands stock-still. "You were in the cargo ship," Adrian says. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to hit you. We had navigation trouble - should have known it might end up in a diplomatic incident." You don't speak for your people, you think. You would have liked to remain apolitical. But now, you suppose, you can't. The emperor doesn't think so either. "This puts us in an awkward position, I'm afraid. Amelia trusts you, but we're going to be together for a while. Obviously you've found our guard creature and know more about human technology than we would like you to." We're not at war, you think. It's the humans who have the most delicate power struggles within their own system right now. Adrian is orating now, giving a speech. They aren't going to let you get a word in edgewise unless you say something shocking. Adrian does it instead. "So I ask you one thing in exchange. Tell us one secret of your own, and we'll tell you ours." There's no threat. No 'or else', although you wonder whether they might fight you back through the umbilical and into the breach. Is that it? A riddle for a pardon? It seems too easy. You raise your hands and see Adrian tense. It takes one sharp turn to unlock the seals on your helmet, and then you're breathing the stagnant air of the bridge, your feathers rising just because they've been pressed down for so long. You tell a secret. [["Amelia, I thought about leaving you behind."]] [["My ship was hauling redwood." They will know it's almost, but not quite, illegal.]] [["I'm afraid I'll die before I can fly another job again."]]