From the bridge of the carrier, Gahn watched the ongoing celebrations in the hangar through the various holoscreens that surveilled the ship.

  Pouring himself another glass of his Qiaouian whiskey, he takes another sip. It was one of the things he was able to take with him from his doomed flagship. Being a minimalist in this regard did help him save more of his belongings than the others, but nonetheless there have been some sacrifices that had to be made.

  The man found himself tired, wearisome, and above all, very unhappy, even if for the moment, relieved just as everybody else was. But the entire ordeal has thus far been disastrous. From the casualties of the final battle, to the initial escape from capture, to the incident on Qiaou, all the way back to when the protests first began on Ulminh, just before they embarked on this mission.

  He wished that none of it had occurred in the first place. Suddenly, weeks later, he’s far from the comfort of his home. He’s lost all but two of the ships he’s been given, and a staggering number of the people he was to lead. At least, he hopes that the research vessel has managed to survive. The plan is to rendezvous later, but no further signal or communications has come from their side.

  But worst of all, he could feel the trajectory of everything occurring changing forever, and there was no going back.

  Did it have to be so inevitable? He didn’t want to admit that it was. Such incidents happen all the time across the stars, it was customary to address it accordingly and move on; there was no use in drastic changes. In all other regards, he was still moving upwards in life, significantly benefitting from the resources, institutions, and development that the Coalition had provided for Ulminh.

  Suddenly with all this chaos, he deeply feared having that taken away. The right steps towards the right actions have to be taken to preserve security, peace, and prosperity amongst the cosmos, and so far, despite the original intentions of this mission, the results have been anything but. Could a violent conflict break out over this matter?

  Watching the carrier ship’s flight path, they are to land in a sector in a nearby corner of Alpharion by the next day, though the system and world of choice have yet to be decided. In those earlier moments, it was more important to make the jump out of there alive in the first place, and as such the act of transit in and of itself became more important and safe than in choosing a destination. One can be picked out later, anyhow.

  Watchfully monitoring the ship’s vitals, Gahn finds that they will have just enough to make it before having to stop for any repairs and refueling. Hopefully, they won’t be immediately apprehended upon landing, though given where they’re going, it’s highly unlikely that the Coalition will risk damage to their own cities should a breakout conflict happen, nor would the likelihood of them being recognized in that region arise.

  Or so, he prays. After all, with what happened on Qiaou, and then just now, who knows?

  *****

  Across the carrier ship, past the survivors sleeping on the floors of the halls, past the ones who couldn’t and remained awake and continued to pray for the fallen, past the hangars, and through the corridors, is a closed deck that holds a view out to the void rushing past the vessel.

  “I didn’t think it would look like this out here,” says Lym. She sat beside Vertan on a crate watching the stars rush by, draped in a standard issue blanket.

  “I didn’t think so, either,” says Vertan. “Usually when we use a gateway, the stars all bunch up at one end, and the view looks much more disorienting. Funny that this is considered less safe.”

  “I think I like this better,” comments Lym. “Watching the universe go by.”

  “Me too,” replies Vertan.

  In a moment of silence between the two, Vertan couldn’t help but notice a faint smile from Lym, but neither of the two makes any comment on it.

  “You haven’t seen this before either?” he asks. “How do your people travel?”

  “Oh, much different,” she replies. “And much faster. It gets the job done well, but it doesn’t look as pretty as this.”

  “Hm, I see.”

  “I wish our travels could look this pretty.”

  Vertan takes a sip from his mug, and sets it down beside him on the crate. For a moment, he finds himself lost in thought.

  “How are you feeling?” Lym asks.

  “Hm?” Vertan mumbles in surprise. “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m, I’m feeling alright. Could be better, but, here right now, I think I’m okay.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Well. That’s good.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just. I’ve never heard you ask such a thing before.”

  “Really?”

  “Until now, at least.”

  “I, well. I just wanted to know that you’re alright.”

  “Well I’m alright, are you alright?”

  “I think I am. I feel better hearing your answer.”

  “Do you. Want to talk more about that?”

  “I was so scared.”

  “Really? You, scared?”

  “I know, right?”

  “Of how I feel?”

  “No, I. I thought that you were gone and I wouldn’t see you again. I wanted to believe so badly that you made it out alive and safe after it happened.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Maybe I just wanted to make sure this moment is real.”

  “What did they do to you? This moment is real.”

  “They took me through their facilities. It was all very painful and disorienting, especially when they drew my blood. I overheard General Hiau talk about almost completing the copying of my people’s genome. I could sense that my people were being reverse engineered while I was in there.”

  Vertan’s eyes widened first in shock, and then in furious anger. Despite the fearsome display of power earlier that day, Lym appeared significantly more worn, shaken, even. He had wondered what had occurred in their time apart, and in that moment, he wished to burn the entire system down for what they did.

  And then came the implications.

  “Oh my God. What were they doing down there?”

  “I can feel my people crying out to me from the walls.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Hm?”

  “Fuck!”

  “What is it, Vertan?”

  “It’s typical of them. I know how they are.”

  “How so?”

  “They want to consolidate their power by acquiring resources. I think you know where this goes.”

  “Oh. Oh.”

  “But…”

  “Hm?”

  “We did just destroy their planet, didn’t we? Maybe we set them back by a lot.”

  “What was that, by the way? I knew something fast slammed into the planet.”

  “You know how we’re traveling right now? Take a guess.”

  “What do you mean—? Oh, no way you didn’t.”

  “We did.”

  Lym lets out a chuckle at Vertan’s statement. Vertan couldn’t help but smile himself, a little bit proud.

  “You know,” she says. “That makes me almost feel bad for them.”

  “They’re literally using your people as a resource, Lym.”

  “I know, that’s why I said almost. I almost feel bad they thought they could escape the legendary Zviedal.”

  “Oh, stop that. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

  “I’m a quick learner.”

  “Of course you are. I remember when you could barely say anything.”

  “Don’t tell me you prefer that.”

  “Even if I did, so what?”

  “You’re right.”

  A moment of quietness.

  “Thank you, Vertan.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “Well, for everything, all of it.”

  “But, all I’ve been is harsh and critical towards you. I didn’t even want anything to do with you when you first came, and it’s my fault that I was so careless to put us out there during those protests. It’s my fault it’s led up to everything now, and how much pain that put you through—”

  “No, it’s not. I know you did your best with what you knew. I gave you a lot to handle. But you also showed me things I never imagined possible.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Believe me.”

  “I should be thanking you too, though. You’ve helped carry us through a lot, and for the first time, I feel like things could change, you know?”

  “Makes me a little bit nervous. How daunting.”

  “Well. Maybe that can be worried about later.”

  “It’s important though, no?”

  “It is. But for now, maybe, what’s important is just what’s here right now. Just us, and nothing else to the world.”

  Turning back over to Lym, to his surprise, she had completely dozed off, her head resting nestled onto his left shoulder. Her eye was closed, and her mechanical eye was lit so dimly it may as well be shut off. It must be her first full sleep since, well, forever.

  For a moment, wrapped in the dull red standard issue blanket, she did look a bit like a rose, now in an environment that doesn’t necessitate thorns.

  Tentatively, Vertan adjusted her blanket, brushed aside a strand of her hair, and leaned back against the wall.

  As the cosmos rushed by outside the window, Vertan took another sip from his mug, which now sat at a more lukewarm temperature.