Humans are weird: Calling out stupid (2024)

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Bok examined the utensils before him carefully before reaching down and delicately picking up one between two of his talons. Unlike humans his people lacked the dexterity they had when using tiny tools so holding on to the metal strand was understandably difficult.

The weather was a sharp contrast to the freezing temperatures of his own homeworld were warmth was a luxury so even though he was happy to join them he still felt like this much warmth was unnatural and that any moment the cold winds would return.

“Like this.” Mark said through still chewing teeth while Bok’s other friend Kevin between the two of them looked embarrassed.

“I’ll have a-” Mark began before he was cut off by a loud rattling sound from the park nearby. Bok turned toward it and saw several young humans tossing a animal skin sphere into a metal loop and cheering loudly as it went in. Several of the humans came over and began praising the one who had made the shot before they continued playing their earth game.

When he turned back to the table Bok noticed something odd came happened to Mark. His mouth was hanging open as if stuck mid sentence while his eyes were transfixed on the park behind them. His jaw moved as if to say something but no words would come.

The waiter who had been writing down his order before looked at him oddly. Before they could ask anything else Kevin cut in. “We’re still deciding.” The waiter looked at Mark again before nodding and leaving the table.

As soon as the waiter left Kevin turned to Mark and began speaking to him softly. “Mark, can you hear me?” Mark mumbled something and began breathing faster. Bok sniffed something odd and looked to see Mark’s hand tightly gripping the fork, his finger nails digging so deep into his palm that they’d drawn blood.

“Is everything alright?” Bok asked. Mark didn’t respond; he didn’t even appear to register anything going on around them now.

“Mark, listen to my voice.” Kevin’s voice was soft and reassuring as he continued talking to Mark. “You’re home, you’re safe, you’re among friends.”

He repeated those words several times and Mark appeared to calm down somewhat, but his eyes remained focused on the park. Kevin turned to Bok and said “Ask him about his day.”

“What?”

“Ask him about his day.” Kevin said again more insistent this time.

Bok was confused to what was going on but then again there was much of human culture he did not understand.

“How was your day Mark?”

“My….day…” Mark word’s were near silent as if being spoken from far away.

Kevin nodded and motioned for Bok to continue. “Yes, I heard you finished a new game on your computer before you came here.”

Mark blinked and his eyes slowly began to focus again. “I…did. I …beat a new game.”

“That’s great,” Kevin joined in, “what was it called again?”

“Monster tycoon.” Mark’s words were becoming more assured and Bok saw the grip on the fork lessening.

His eyes blinked several times and he shook his head. Looking down at his hand for the first time he saw the blood and dropped the fork, the metal clanging to the table. Mark looked up at both of us, a mixture of fear and embarrassment on his face.

“I’m……I…” he began but Kevin waved it away.

“There’s nothing to say man.” Kevin slowly put a reassuring hand on him and though he jolted at first it seemed to comfort him. “Do you need anything?”

“I think I should go home.” His words were a bit sheepish as he eyed his bloody hand and then stuffed it in his pocket.

“But we haven’t even orde-” Bok began before Kevin shot him a glare he knew was a human way of saying to remain quiet. He sighed and stood up with them and the trio called a cab to take Mark home.

——————————————-

Some time later Kevin came back out of Mark’s apartment and met Bok waiting on the street.

“He should be okay now,” he said while pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, “I turned on the tv to a comedy and put his game on the pc for him so he has something to distract him.”

“Why does he need distracting?” Bok asked.

Kevin took a deep inhale and blew out a cloud of thick grey smoke.

“You know Mark was in the core, right?”

Bok nodded and so Kevin continued. “You didn’t hear this from me, but during his third year in his tour he got sent out on a patrol to a school; sorta like a relief mission to drop off supplies and build trust and all that.”

“While he was there a group of the kids were playing outside and wanted him to join in; the area was marked as a green zone so he went over and played some basket ball with them.

"After the supplies were all offloaded they were attacked.” He took another drag and then threw the butt down to the ground and stepped on it. “An insurgent fired a rocket at their vehicle from a nearby building and it ricocheted off before impacting just a few feet from Mark knocking him out.”

“He woke up after the battle with a few scrapes and bruises, but everyone one of those kids he had played with were dead.”

Bok looked shocked. He couldn’t imagine what a horrible moment must have been like. Kevin took a look back up at Mark’s room. “His vest stopped the shrapnel from killing him, but those kids got torn to pieces.”

“Now every time he hears anything related to basket ball, like a ball dribbling or the whoosh of a net, he locks up and has flash backs to that day.”

“But that was years ago,” Bok stated, “why has he not recovered from it?”

Kevin shook his head. “Something like that changes you Bok; at least for us humans.” he pulled out another cigarette and eyed it for a moment before throwing it away without even lighting it. “A piece of you gets broken and yeah you can try to patch yourself together again and go on with your life, but those patches are paper thin and you can fall apart with just a breeze of wind.”

Bok scoffed. “Here I thought Mark was made of sterner stuff.”

Kevin rounded on him with a stare so cold and full of hatred he couldn’t believe humans were capable of such anger.

“Because you don’t know humans I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” Kevin said icily. “Mark is one of the toughest people I know because most other people that go through that can’t handle the pain and put a bullet through their skull.”

He pushed passed Bok and didn’t even bother looking at him.

“That man decided to keep living with that pain. Don’t you ever call him f*cking weak again.”

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“What do you mean you will not commence the invasion!?”

The high councilor’s outburst caused several of the nearby bridge crew to wince in pain. Inuly vocal cords could reach a far greater spectrum of sound waves to generate compared to human vocal cords; to which the supreme commander of united forces Victor Gobbins had learned the hard way.

United forces had fought hard the last several months and had carved a deep gash into the territory controlled by the Umba Empire. Now resting at high anchor off the sentry world of Gulvan IV, the final stronghold standing between allied forces and the Umba home system, the united forces had gathered aboard the flagship Orion’s Belt to decide the fate of the upcoming invasion.

The leaders of the various species each put forward a plan ranging from a wide spread global invasion from multiple landing sites to a single massive wave of troops sweeping across the planet. Casualties were predicted to be heavy as the Umba people’s warrior culture engrained into them at birth had created one of the universes most proficient militaries. The body count pushing this far had already been near morale breaking and had it not been for the increasing stream of supplies and manpower from humanity the offensive would have ground to a halt three systems ago. This factor was one of the main reasons a human was, begrudgingly, placed as the supreme commander as it was the only way to ensure their continued support. So it was somewhat surprising when after hearing all of the various plans Victor announced that he would not be launching the invasion at this time.

High Councilor Veemen was particularly vocal with her objections to which only now after several moments did Victor and his crew regain a measure of their hearing.

“Admiral Brea,” the supreme commander said without even bothering to acknowledge the high councilor, “bring our ships into line with the Orion at the front.”

The admiral nodded and began relaying orders to the fleet. A flurry of ships icons began moving across the display in response to her orders.

“So you do plan to begin the invasion then.” Victor turned to see the high councilor looking at him with an expression of smugness and gloating plainly written across her face.

“In due time councilor, in due time.” His lack of stating her full title was one of the easiest ways to get under her skin and he fondly used it regularly.

“Communications, send out a message on all frequencies requesting communication with the Umba leadership.”

“What is your plan?” the High councilor asked, but before she could get a reply the communications officer broke in.

“We have communication; patching it in now.”

The large screen of the bridge cut away from ship deployments and shifted to reveal the striking visage of their foe.

“I am Lopono Vak, sentinel lord of Gulvan IV.”

Victor stood and presented himself; his clean pressed uniform and adorned medals making for a powerful image of authority.

“I am the supreme commander of the united forces Victor Gobbins.”

The Umbaan regarded Victor in silence as this was no doubt the first time the Umba Empire had seen the face of the man who had orchestrated the downfall of their recent holdings.

Lopono nodded to himself as if satisfied and continued. “I shall say this once supreme commander Gobbins; surrender to me or face your destruction.”

Victor stood silently as Lopono continued. “The Umba fleet is already enroute and should arrive here within a week.” This remark caused some of the leadership behind Victor to gasp as though their fleet was substantial it was not enough to slug it out with the full might of the Umba navy. This did not appear to phase Victor however and he calmly continued as if nothing was amiss.

“Why are you sharing this information with us? Surely it would have been more beneficial for you to let us begin our invasion and then attack us with our ground forces already engaged on the planet.”

Lopono’s mouth opened for what Victor assumed was a smile. “You have shown yourself a worthy foe, and such deceitful tactics are unbecoming of the Umba Empire.”

Now it was Victor’s turn to smile and surprisingly he tilted his head to the monitor. “You have my respect for such honorable behavior and so I feel it only kind to return the favor.” A subtle nod from admiral Brea off screen was given before he continued.

“The sun should have just set in your capital yes?”

Lopono looked confused. “It has.”

“Then I give you until the rising of it again to surrender to the united forces.”

Everyone surrounding the supreme commander went silent save for the grutal chuckling of Lopono.

“And pray tell, why would I surrender when I know you will be defeated in a week?”

“Because within the next twenty hours you will be defeated sentinel lord,” Victor said as he kept the grin, “we’ll keep the line open for your reply.”

Before Lopono could respond Victor motioned his hand and the transmission was cut.

“Admiral you may commence firing.”

With that the admiral began issuing a series of crisp orders to the bridge crew that were in turn relayed to the entire fleet.

“Are we not going to talk about what you said?” Once again the high councilor cut in over the chatter of the bridge. “How do you plan to make them surrender in a single day?”

Victor turned to face the councilor for the first time, his eyes unimpressed with what he saw.

“Tell me, have you ever seen what a bombard cannon does to an enemy capital ship?”

The question was seemingly random but the high councilor recovered quickly.

“It bursts the shields and crumples the armor as if it was made of stone; what of it?”

Victor tilted his head to the display showing a line of ships now tracking the rising dawn on the planet below. “And have you ever seen what happens when a bombard cannon is fired against unshielded and non-reinforced materials?”

Before the councilor could answer a strong shudder ran through the ship. The outside void of black space lit up for a moment and a series of bright trails appeared and were now pulling away fast from the ship. From the view screen a series of red icons were likewise being shown from every ship that had formed up in the combat line.

“This was your grand plan? To fire on the surface and force them to surrender?!”

The supreme commander sat down and watched from the view screen as the bombard shells rapidly cut through the planets atmosphere, hurtling towards the surface with ever increasing speeds.

“When the people of Gulvan IV see the light of the rising sun they shall also be witness to their destruction.” The first shells impacted the surface and even from orbit the light of their detonation was bright enough to be seen. “By the time the sunrise reaches the capital it will have been twenty hours and they will fully know what is coming for them.”

“But where is the honor in this?” The councilor protested. “Surely this is no just way to win a war.”

It was the supreme commanders turn to laugh, and as he did it rarely it was an unnerving sight to behold.

“As a wise man once said, you win wars not by dying for your cause, but by making the enemy die for his.”

From high anchor the fleet could see the destructive sunrise begin to wash over the planet slowly as more and more shells were fired towards the surface.

“They will surrender, or be buried in what is left of their world.”

The shuttle carved through the upper atmosphere of the planet like a hot knife through butter and smoothly made its way through the swirling cloud banks.

Aboard the security detail sat in the front of the craft going over the security details one final time while the diplomats in the rear made their own final preparations.

They were a rather somber group; the weight of what they were meant to achieve bearing down on them as steadily as the gravity of the world they were speeding towards.

“Shall we go over the talking points once more?”

The Parziean delegate Jaldel’s voice was quiet but still held a tone of authority. She had asked the question yet was already opening the data packages with her nimble blue fingers as if she had issued a statement.

Opposite the Parziean the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates were nodding in agreement and opening their own data packages. Jaldel turned and looked at the remaining delegates behind her.“Would you care you care to join us?”

Occupying the rear corner of the diplomat sat the Hive delegate Tilith. Her size had required the crew to remove several seats to make enough space for her to sit in. When the crew had inquired if she would need specialized safety harnesses for when the shuttle breached atmo Tilith had politely refused, displaying her leg talons piercing through the lush carpet of the cabin and biting into the metal decking beneath it.

Tilith had not moved for the entire duration of the flight from the federation worlds. Jaldel would have paid her no mind had she not mumbled and made rapid clicking sounds underneath her silver veil covering her mandibles.

“Delegate Tilith I believe is communicating with the Hive mind and no doubt rather engaged to join you” came a voice next to Tilith.

Sitting next to her sat the human delegate, Earl von Morgan. He was considered a wild card in the federation; his elderly exterior appearance rarely matching his youthful and somewhat bold actions. Rumor was he had pulled a gun on a member of the inner ten when they attempted to black mail him into joining their group shortly before the Secessionist Schism war had broken out and that he was favored by not only Tilith but other members of the Hive ruling caste.

Morgan calmly shook his head at Jaldel’s offer and instead pulled out a paper wrapped herb from his coat pocket.“I must decline, as I have a feeling that any laid plans we may concoct will be any use to us once we get down there.”

He placed the wrapping into his mouth and reached into a his opposite pocket to retrieve a small lighter while Jaldel looked at him reprovingly.

“More of your human wisdom?” the Flinchestet quipped drawing a chuckle from Brumark.

Morgan lit his wrapping and took a deep inhale of it before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke in the Flinchestet’s direction causing them to cough and wave their hand in the air to disperse the smoke.

“Rather more of a feeling.” Morgan said, taking another deep inhale as the shutters along the shuttle windows began to rise slowly and for the first time the delegates got a look at the planet they were here to save.

“Something here feels very wrong.”

———————————————————————————————————–

The shuttle doors finally opened and the ramp descended to the muddy surface of the planet much to Jaldel’s confusion. She tapped her communication device in her ear and spoke.

“Pilot, are you sure these are the coordinates you were given?”

“That is correct, mam.” The pilots reply was swift, but held a hint of uneasiness that Jaldel was feeling.“This is the location they gave me to follow for your meeting with the prince.”She looked out of the doorway once again to the world below and found herself hesitant to leave.

The coordinates for the discussion had led them to the front lines of the conflict rather than a safe location far away. the landing pad was nothing more than a hastily assembled cleared area that had been covered with metal grates while all of the buildings surrounding it were somewhat dug into the ground itself. The sounds of distant fighting could be heard and if she listened closely over the spin down of the shuttle engines she could hear the thumping sound of artillery gun.

Across the makeshift landing pad stood a trio of Tugundans. Two were dressed in full battle armor, their faces hard and seemingly uninterested while their weapons were held firmly at their sides. The third Tugundan standing in the middle wore a rather over decorated officers uniform, though even from this distance Jaldel could tell it was stained and hadn’t been cleaned in some time.

The Flinchestet behind her was looking rather pale, even for one of her kind, and the Brumark was attempting to hide their nervousness by clenching deeply into the cushioned chair beside them. Jaldel stood atop the ramp taking it all in while considering her options when the pilot cut in again.

“Mam, I’m being told that the delegation needs to exit now or we take off again as medical supply vessels are being held in holding patterns till we clear the pad.”

Before she could respond Morgan began descending the ramp followed by Tilith who had woken from her trance like state only moments before. Jaldel was struck by how seemingly calm Morgan was as he walked into the warzone and realized she could not be shown up by this human and quickly followed after him down the ramp.

The delegation made their way across the landing pad and stood in front of the trio of Tugundans. Jaldel stepped forward to the officer and produced a document.

“By order of the Cosmic Federation, we are here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities between both theTugunda and the-”

Before she could finish her sentence the officer held up one hand to forestall Jaldel while the other went to a communication device in his ear. The officer was nodding at something that only he could hear. Without saying a word he pulled out a device and entered in several keys. Behind him large doors opened from the earth entrenched building and he quickly motioned the delegation inside.

“We have just received word that an enemy chemical strike is inbound.” He pointed to the delegations shuttle.“Tell your pilot to get back into the space as quickly as possible and enter the bunker.”

The Flinchestet and Brumark delegates looked shaken and quickly entered the bunker followed shortly by Tilith and Morgan while Jaldel relayed the officers warning to the pilot. Jaldel watched the shuttle take off again before stepping inside the bunker just as the doors began sealing themselves.

The group was led through a series of tunnels and passage ways. Overhead the loud thumping of artillery shells impacting could be felt as the tunnels would shake every so often.

Much to the surprise of the delegation the tunnels were far from empty as row upon row of injured Tugunda soldiers lined either side of the tunnel. Soldiers rushing passed in the opposite direction left the delegates single file and bumping into the injured soldiers much to their displeasure.

After some time the group was led into a small room lit with a flickering overhead light. A wide metal table sat under the light with simple metal chairs surrounding it while military maps and charts decorated the walls.

The officer sat at one side of the table while the two accompanying soldiers left the room to stand guard outside. He motioned the delegates to the chairs opposite him which they reluctantly took.

“My name is Kucvulan, war strider and second in command to princeMarsov.” He removed his cap to reveal several bandages and dressings covering the back of his head which he bristled at.

The Flinchestet delegate coughed.“Forgive me, but we are here to negotiate with prince Marsov. Your feelings are irrelevant to these discussions.”

“Prince Marsov is currently organizing the war from the front lines and is indisposed of. In his place he has appointed me as his representative.”

Nearly all of the delegates looked surprised at this save for Morgan who quietly sat at the corner of the table next to Tilith. As the negotiations continued he said very little in fact save for the casual remark but otherwise was quiet and calmly stroked his mustache.

———————————————————————————————————–

Several hours had passed before the negotiation broke for the day and the delegates returned to their ship with the ride back into space certainly had a more somber mood as the everyone slowly absorbed what they had seen. It was some time before Jaldel spoke and broke the silence.

“It is clear the Tugundan’s are not at fault for this conflict.”

Both the Flinchestet and Brumark delegates nodded in agreement.

“The horrors they have endured no doubt leaving their resolve to finish this conflict iron.”

A soft chuckling drew the gathered groups attention to the back of the shuttle to see Morgan lighting another herbal wrapping.

“What do you find so amusing?” Jaldel said, a tone of anger slowly rising in her voice.

Morgan took a deep inhale and blew out a small cloud of smoke and looked back at the delegates.“You’ve all been played for fools like a fish biting down on a hook.”

The trio looked confused at this remark as Morgan stood and went to the refreshment cabinet and began pouring two glasses of the finest Gloven wine before returning to his seat and handing one to Tilith.

“The whole point of our negotiations was to bring about an end to this conflict for both sides.” Morgan began before he took a sip of his drink.“But would it not be better for theTugundan’s to have the frame of war cast so that it makes them out to be the victims and thus garner more support from us?” Morgan noticed the trios confused faces for the first time.“Are you telling me none of you saw the signs?”

He sat down again and took a fresh inhale before continuing.“Does it not strike you as somewhat odd timing that the exact moment we set foot on this world was to coincide with an artillery attack?”

“Hardly.” Jaldel counter.“They have been fighting for months on end.”

“A fair point I grant you, but the other side must have known we were arriving as we are scheduled to meet with them as well in the coming days. Why would they jeopardize their negotiating position by launching an attack that may have very well killed us all?”

Before Jaldel could counter again Morgan continued.“And then there is the manner of the attack itself. Kucvulan said it was a chemical attack, correct?”

“Indeed.” the Brumark spoke.

“Then where was any of the hazmat protection gear for the soldiers?”

The trio were silent and so Morgan pressed on.“If these chemical attacks that have badly disfigured their forces have truly been going on for months then every soldier we passed should have had some sort of protective gear they would have been scrambling for at the mere warning of a chemical strike.”

“We were underground in a secure facility.” the Flinchestet added,“There would have been no need to have such protection.”

“By that logic then why do ships have escape pods if they were built to not to be destroyed?”It was here that Tilith spoke for the first time, her voice soft but with a tone that seemed to extend each syllable longer than it needed to be.

The Flinchestet looked as if they were going to say something but stopped themselves as if realizing Tilith’s point, but Jaldel was still not convinced.

“Kucvulan himself did not carry one and that confidence must have inspired his troops take comfort that if there commander did not need protection then they must be safe.”

Morgan stubbed the butt of his herbal wrap into the arm of his chair and then tossed it aside into a waste container.“Since you brought him up I think we should discuss the war strider himself next.”

Jaldel scoff and reclined in her seat.“What is there to discuss? He seems the perfect model of a Tugundan officer.”

“A bit too perfect for my liking?” Morgan said downing the remains of his drink in a single go.

“Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?” Jaldel prodded.“Is this all some big show to hide your displeasure at being shown up?”

Morgan laughed loudly and swatted his chair arm at Jaldel’s words. It took him some time to recompose himself and wipe the tears from his eyes before staring down Jaldel.

“Why would I be jealous of a man so eager to get his head blown off by the first enemy sniper?”

The trio once again looked confused and now it was Morgan’s turn to lean back into his chair.

“No sane officer would wear such a brightly colored uniform covered in medals and commendations on front lines. You might as well tie a little sign around your neck saying“Shoot me, I’m important.” Tilith chuckled and the Brumark coughed loudly when Jaldel glared at him.

“When we passed the soldiers I touched several of them. Though it was brief their minds were full of anguish and pain from the previous days.”

The Flinchestet’s mind entering ability through physical contact appeared to back Jaldel’s perspective. She nodded to the Flinchestet and smirked at Morgan.“You can not hide the secrets of your mind from a Flinchestet.”

“Unless you’ve seen a few slasher flicks so I’m told.” Morgan remarked under his breath.“I will grant you I can not deny our colleagues ability, but the evidence does appear to tell a different story.”

“Any other points that concerned you?” Tilith said, sipping once more from her glass.

“The last item that struck me as odd was the absence of the prince for our talks.”

“You heard Kucvulan; the prince was on the front lines directing the war.” Jaldel’s rebuke was swift as it was to the point.

This time it was Tilith to voice her concerns.“This did strike me as odd. What knowledge we Hive have of the prince.”

“Why do you say this?” the Brumark spoke, his attitude suddenly now more interested in the discussion.

“I entered the Hive subspace and connected with the Hive directly and learned all information we had regarding the prince.” Tilith began, he talons slowly clacking against the decking.“We know that the prince is brash, direct, unimaginative, and hopelesslynarcissistic. He is of the kind that would not have missed a chance to show himself off to members of other species.”

“I agree.” Morgan said, much to the surprise of Jaldel.“But all of this leads to a far more dangerous question than the ones we have been contemplating on.”

“And what would that be?”

“If the Tugundan’s are not capable of such deception, than there is some unseen force here guiding them in the ways of subtly and misdirection.”Morgan cupped his hands and rested his chin on them as he stared out the window.“And if there is such a force aiding them in this war, we must wonder if they are far more dangerous than the Tugundan war machine.”
———————————————————————————————————–

Kucvulan watched the shuttle retreat back above the clouds before returning to the command bunker. He waited until the doors slammed shut behind him before removing a compact communication device and activating it.

“Everything was done per your request. The delegation is none the wiser.”

A small image began flickering into place and a man cloaked midnight black coat appeared before Kucvulan.

“Did it?” the shadowy man remarked.

Kucvulan was confused for a moment.“Yes, we did exactly as you said and performed the roles assigned to us.”

The man in the image looked frustrated and shook his head.“You did not. You improvised and put the entire plan in jeopardy!”

“I-” Kucvulan began before the man continued in a far angrier tone.

“You were to wait until the first shells hit the ground before ushering the delegation inside but instead did so before the fact! Do you think they are stupid?!”

Kucvulan remained silent as the man continued to vent his anger.

“You were aware of how events would play out but instead of keeping that knowledge to yourself you blatantly shared crucial information to them without even being asked for it! It is not a misdirection if you loudly announce“Look here, don’t look over there!” you half wit imbecile!”

Had it been anyone else speaking to Kucvulan he would have removed their arms from their body and beat them to death with it for such insults. Yet this man had earned the respect of the royal family and his words were theirs. He could not disobey.

“Forgive me, Yuri. I am not accustomed to such acts of… deceit.”

Yuri pinched his brow and took a long slow breath as if he was explaining his anger to a child. After some time he opened his eyes once more and glared at Kucvulan.

“Do not endanger this war when we are so close to winning it. We do not need the Cosmic Federation’s intervention just as we have regained the initiative.”

Kucvulan nodded.“What are your orders now?”

“I am sending you further instructions for you and your men for events in the coming weeks while negotiations continue. Follow them to the letter. No deviations, no improvisations, no off the top remarks. Just. Follow. The. Instructions.”

With that the communication was disconnected and Kucvulan was left a mix of duty and rage.

Leave it to humans to make things complicated, he thought as he went to get the new orders.

Spanning 17 star clusters and ruling over nearly 83 different worlds they were considered the prime super power of the galaxy at the time. Their fleets numbered in the thousands and their armies the millions of professional soldiers ever ready to take up the banner of conquest.

Most neighboring civilizations had either been wiped out from fruitless attempts at military defiance against Draconian expansion or had negotiated unfavorable deals to secure their independence with the empire.

Such was the scale of the military that equally as large was the governing body that oversaw the day to day functions. Legions of clerks and data archivists researched and gathered data for additional armies of legislators, governors, senators, and high council members and even the royal family themselves as a sea of information and statistics flowed daily over the span of light years.

To be a member of such a labyrinth of government was to be a one of many; a cog in a machine whose purpose is so far reaching that one risks being buried into the depths of obscurity.

And such we find regional overseer V'tet Darorn of Sector 12.

Unlike many of the Draconian species, he was not considered normal by many measures. While other of his species were thick with muscle and scales of such redness they made blood look pale, his frame was slender and his scales appearing as a rust red. Where other’s wings on their back were full and strong, easily able to carry them high into the sky, his wings had developed a genetic deformity that made them extremely painful to fully open and thus remained closed.

V'tet had obtained a seat on the overseer council for sector 12 of the empire more through family connections and contributions to the empire then by initial skill. That was to say he was not dedicated and hard working, but in the grand mechanisms of the governing powers of the Draconian Empire new comers rarely gained more higher postings. This frustrated V'tet as he had developed new ideas that would push the power of the Draconian Empire to even greater heights, and yet was never able to sway his fellow council members to vote with him leaving him in a state of limbo.

That was until fate saw fit to intervene and introduce V'tet to one of the strangest people he had ever known.

Her name, was Rayah Amari.
———————————————————————————————————

The council chamber was a vaulted circular room of black stone and a vaulted ceiling made entirely of stained glass. Each piece of glass was from a different world under the domain of the Draconian Empire with the piece in the middle being made from the very planet beneath their feet.

At the center of the room was a descending pyramid built into the floor with levels of chairs and desks for each of the some several hundred council members to sit. At the very bottom stood a pillar known as the “Speaking Stone” which any council member must mount to earn the right to address the council. Not only was it symbolic, it also weeded out the weak as whomever mounted the stone would be gazing upwards at all of his fellow members and feel the weight of their gazes baring down on their every word.

Though any council member could mount the stone to speak, not many could handle such a matter save for several of the most senior members whose years of experience had numbed them. Indeed, some of the newer council members would go so far as to attempt to bribe senior members to mount the stone for them to push forward their motions with promises of wealth and political support.

It had been rare for a new council member to last long atop the stone and so it was quite the surprise when young V'tet began his descent from the stony steps towards the speaking stone.

As he passed by others he would nod a greeting or shake a hand but his descent was never stopped until he reach the bottom level.

Obrik and Htvala stood before him and blocked his path to the stone. Together they were the most senior members of the council and their respect was such that they had warranted seats beside the speaking stone itself.

“Come to propose your new plans once more?” Obrik’s voice was a low grumble, like that of thunder rolling over the distant hills.

“You should let us speak in your stead.” Htvala’s voice was of a higher pitch which made him sound far younger than he actually was.

V'tet smiled. “Thank you, but I shall be fine.”

He moved to get around them but Obrik stood in his way once more.

“Think carefully young runt.” His tone dripping with smug superiority. “You wouldn’t want to make your proposal and choke at the last moment.”

Htvala snickered. “You never were one for words; it’s not too late to make us an offering.”

“You are both most generous, but I shall be fine.” V'tet side stepped once more and approached the speaking stone.

“I’ve recently hired someone to take care of my short comings.” he said as he slowly clambered up the stone. As he climbed the stone the murmur of conversation surrounding him slowly died away until finally he stood atop the stone and saw every council members eyes fixed on him.

He stared up at as many councilors he could as he slowly turned on the spot taking the grandeur in before stopping to read some of his notes on a scribbled piece of paper, to which Htvala and Obrik chuckled.

As if ready, V'tet set his notes and papers down and clasped his hands behind his back.

“When I was a child,” V'tet began, “ I considered taking my own life.”

Whatever the councilors had been expecting this was certainly not it and a rush of gasps filled the chamber.

“Doctors had told my parents that my disease would only grow worse with age and eventually I would never be able to spread my wings again.”

He began slowly pacing atop the stone while the eyes of every councilor were glued to him.

“Can you imagine it?” He asked, stopping in place and spreading his hands out to his colleagues. “To be blessed with the gift of flight only for it to be taken from you; to never feel the rush of air beneath you nor the softness of clouds against your scales ever again?”

Several of the councilors reached for their own wings while some flexed them instinctively.

“So when I learned that one day this would be taken from me I went to the tallest cliff I could find and planned to leap from it.” V'tet stood at the edge of the speaking stone as if reenacting it, the tips of his feet hanging off the edge. “I planned to feel the rush of wind one last time before I faded away to join the eternal glide of our ancestors.”

“I leaned forward over the edge,” he spoke as he too began leaning over, “ and just as I was about to plunge into the void once again my father came from behind and pulled me back.” He spun in place and took several steps back to the center of the stone.

“He looked at me and said "What madness has taken hold of you?” to which I replied that I knew what would become of me, that I knew what the disease would take from me.“

He stopped and put his hand to his head and pinched his brow and he appeared as if holding back emotions. After several seconds passed in silence V'tet spoke again.

"My father knelt beside me and put his hand on my shoulder and said "My son, just as the clouds are ever changing so too must we; for to remain stagnant as a mountain is not our way.”

“He took hold of me in his arms and to my surprise leapt with me over the edge I had nearly fell from mere moments before.” V'tet was circling the stone now, his arms wide in motion as if gliding through the air as he captivated the council. Obrik and Htvala looked on and scoffed at the seemingly childish antics unbecoming of a councilor.

“As he carried me in his arms as we flew home he spoke to me words I have carved into my heart. He said "Every problem we face will always have a solution, even if it was one we had never considered.”“

V'tet stopped and spread his arms once more to the chamber.

"I tell you this story as now our great sector faces problems that even now seem impossible.” V'tet’s gaze wandered over the councilors as he spoke. “Our citizens earn less and less with each passing cycle while prices soar ever higher making their goals ever farther from their reach; but do not despair!”

V'tet’s voice rose and he smashed his clenched fist into his chest. “For as my father taught me and as each of you know in your hearts there is no problem that we Draconian can not over come!”

A chorus of approval cam from a few of the councilors and some even clapped.

“When the Yupori war machine invaded did we cower behind our walls?”

“No.” was cried out by several councilors who had served during the Yupori Crisis Wars.

“When our very sun spat ever growing deadly belts of radiation, did we flee from this sector with our tail between our legs?”

“No!” came a chorus of councilors who served the trade commission that had made countless negotiations with numerous other political bodies to import a rare element so powerful it stabilized their sun in a matter of weeks, saving billions from lethal radiation.

“And when our very own surrounding sectors sought to steal our glory and present them to the emperor himself, did we allow such a travesty of justice to unfold?”

“NO!” was the reply of some hundred councilors who served as the old guard who had stopped a plot from sectors 11 and 13 to mislead quota reports to make them appear more beneficial to the empire when in reality sector 12 had out performed both sectors combined.

“NO!” V'tet shouted. “When impossible tasks have been set before us we Draconian haven risen to meet each and every one of them; and we have emerged victorious in each and every one!”

The councilors were now cheering as they became swept up in their achievements, V'tet’s words filling them and swelling them to the brim with pride.

V'tet was in full motion now, as if he was a hurricane made manifest that sought to sweep every councilor present up in his gale. “This challenge of wealth is not some monumental undertaking, nor is it some impossible task, not even is it something we should hide and fear from the very discussion of!” V'tet was staring directly at Obrik when he said this as Obrik had been the one in the passed who had pushed for delaying talks of economic reform in favor of the current system.

“No my fellow councilors, my conquers of the impossible, my defiers of the very fates themselves!” V'tet turned back and faced the massed audience. “This is but another marker for the very foundation of our greatness!”

The cheers were much louder now and several dozen councilors now were standing and clapping their hands while Obrik and Htvala’s eyes narrowed at V'tet.

Slowly and with painful bellows V'tet cried out as his wings shakingly stretched out. The creaking and breaking of muscles and bones reverberating up through the chamber until even the lowest members could hear the pain.

Finally, through gasping breaths shaking hands, V'tet stood proudly at the center of the speaking stone with his wings fully outstretched.

“Nothing is impossible for the Draconian!” V'tet roared and the chamber erupted in jubilation as nearly every councilor stood to their feet and cheered the young councilor.

—————————————————–

“I heard you put on quite the performance.”

V'tet looked up from his files and smiled.

“Given by these messages of support I would say so.”

V'tet had returned to his office some hours later after the council finished for the day. After his speech the days discussions had been shifted to tackling the economic problems facing the sector with almost laughable ease.

His companion had been waiting for him in his office and it was her he now enjoyed the quite evening with. She sat comfortably across from his desk swirling a caramel liquid in a crystal goblet.

“I could almost hear the applause from here.” Rayah Amari said as she smirked and took a sip of her drink.

V'tet set down his data pad and stood up from his own chair to face the window behind him. The view overlooking much of the city from the council chambers to the slums of the grit district.

“I still find it hard to believe that your speech worked.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Rayah quipped, finishing her drink before pouring another. “You did well reading it and going through the motions.”

V'tet shook his head and looked at her. “I have given speeches before, yet none of them have ever been as impactful until I hired you to write them.”

“I am but a humble word smith.” She raised a glass to him and relaxed back into her chair.

“Now who is selling themselves short?” V'tet said as he sat back down and poured himself a glass.

“I’ve read your previous speeches; they were decent enough but they failed to sell capture you audience.”

“How do you mean?” V'tet looked puzzled at her remark. “ I laid out the facts clearly for all to understand.”

“But it lacked spectacle and flare.”

V'tet must have still appeared confused because Rayah leaned forward and pointed her glass to him.

“Arguments made with reason are good, but there is a time and place for them.” she said. “You were making your case before you even got in the door, and no one wants to listen to the ravings of a man on the street.”

“Then how did your building get me inside?” V'tet asked.

“By blinding them with emotion.”

“Emotion?”

Rayah grinned. “When people feel emotions while listening to something they immediately become more invested in it, regardless of what it is.” She put down her glass and cracked the sore muscles in her neck.

“My speech opened with something known to every Draconian, your wings.” She motioned to his which had folded back tightly behind his back. “Every Draconian has them and uses them and deep down fear what would happen if they couldn’t use them.”

V'tet nodded at this, as not a day had gone by that he did not think of his wings.

“You lure them in with a tale of sadness, but you end it with a high not; a moment of inspiration that things will be better.”

“Is this important?” V'tet asked, to which Rayah nodded. “Despite what some people think the majority of the population likes a happy ending.”

“Next we stoked the pride of the people you would most need the support of.” She held up a single finger.

“Mentioning military pride ensures you will have support from a few of their members as they enjoy being seen as proud defenders of their people, regardless of the problem they face.”

She held up a second finger. “The merchants and money lenders who are often overlooked now have been moved front and center as their support will be helping the people, which will in turn boost their image and importance thus giving them a stake in your venture.”

She held up a third hand. “The old guard who would most likely be opposed to change. By mentioning the previous clashes with neighboring sectors we’ve shifted their focus to what is best for the empire; something they are more likely to support given their national pride.”

V'tet nodded as he followed along. “So by making each of these parties feel something, and giving them a reason they could benefit from it; the speech ensnared them?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rayah said as she finished her drink and set the glass down, “but it got them interested enough that their own imaginations will begin painting pretty pictures of what could be if this succeeded and they were the ones who most contributed.”

Hearing this strategy V'tet was not ashamed to say he was impressed beyond measure that a single speech could have such depth of underlining themes and sentiments.

“Hiring you was one of my best decisions yet it seems.” he spoke as he smiled to her.

Rayah shrugged. “I’ve had of practice with using emotions back home. You’d be surprised how often I could get people to vote against their own interests.”

“Then I look forward to a long and mutually profitable cooperation.” V'tet said as he raised his glass to her.

“As do I councilor.” Rayah said with a devilish smile crossing her face. “As do I.”

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The Guvian war machine had conquered the Kelro Cluster inroughly a month and with it had sent shockwaves through all of human controlledspace.

Bearing the strength of a tsunami on a clear summer’s dayGuvian needle ships penetrated the Gaspar, Eden V, and Hegemony systems withouta single alarm being raised before the first troop transports landed on thevarious planets and engaged in ground warfare with local defense forces. Nodeclaration was made, no cries of protest for some actions the humans hadcommitted against the Guvian people, not even a boastful gloat from one oftheir military commanders. The only sound humans heard was the sound of gunfireand the endless screams to follow.

From the moment the first distress calls had come in, AmaliaKeller knew this day would come. She stood just above five and a half feet talland though her slim figure gave the appearance of frailty she was in fact tonedto near peek physical perfection that only a human working out in the increasedgravity fields of the fortresses workout chambers could provide. Her hair wasof a blonde so rich one could mistake it for being pure gold and her eyes werea dark silver that in the light appeared to dazzle like a starry nights sky.

Inside her command center aboard the space fortress Brackhill Keep v she had watched thesurrounding systems of the Kelro Cluster fall one by one. Green trading routesmarked for safety shifting to a crimson red of blood slowly drawing closer toher day by day.

Even without the fortresses analysts to tell her she knewthat the Guvian’s would eventually need to strike the fortress; for it was herethat the only stable jump point could be made to reach the rest of humanity.Sure, if the Guvians were crazy enough they could technically make a jump fromanywhere inside the Kelro Cluster, but with the gravitational pull from notonly the surrounding planets but the star itself they risk their jump beingaltered and sending them lightyears offcourse. That was not even taking into account the gravity storms and solarradiation waves that filled the void of space between clusters that if notsafely plotted through could shatter a battleship class vessel like it was madeof cardboard.

So when the initial settlers of humanity that stumbled uponthe Kelro Cluster had built the foundations of the fortress to maintain a safeline of communication to human territory; an eternal guardian to watch over therealms of men.

Over the generations Brackhill Keep had been expanded uponand built outward like a spider weaving a web of ever increasing size. Indeedthe fortress itself appeared as a spider web with eight large outreaching armsspreading in all directions housing numerous docking bays, ship umbilicalcords, and weapons ports along the entire length of each arm; ready to swataside any fool hardy enough to push passed.

Amalia had sent numerous calls for aid back to Sol forreinforcements and though she had received word that fresh armadas were ontheir way they would not reach her fortress in time.

She was coordinating her commanders when a suddendisturbance drew here attention away from the most recent tactical positions ofthe enemy fleet.

With a loud groaning the massive door to the command centerslowly rolled open and a flustered arms man stepped inside.

“Pardon the intrusion ma’am,” the arms man said followed bya crisp salute to which Amalia returned in kind, “but some of our guests wishto speak with you.”

“They are not guests, arms man.” Amalia said, her stern tonewell known to her crew as the first warning to tread carefully. “Guests wouldimply they were invited into our home.” She picked up her mug of tea and took asoft sip from it, the warm liquid returning her to full alertness as it movedthrough her. “Call them what they are.”

“Which is?” the arms man replied, stifling a cough as hespoke.

“Parasites.” Her response drew a few chuckles from thesurrounding crew but a casual glance from their officers made them return towhatever mundane tasks they had been performing before.

As the Guvian forceshad swept across the cluster those with jump ships had quickly fled the clusterwith as many valuables as possible while merchant fleets emptied their storehouses or charged hefty travel fees to those that wished safe passage. Theships remaining in system were only capable of system to system travel and hadfled in the face of the Guvian war machine; and right into the dock arms ofBrackhill Keep.

Two of the eight arms of the fortress had been convertedinto refugee holds which now held some 50-100,000 souls. While the fortress wasmore than capable of holding such an influx of people it had forced the defenseunits of those arms to either condense or relocate to the remaining arms.Friction had been growing between the military crew and the refugees for sometime now with the fighter wing pilots in particular raising several petitionsto allow them to reclaim their launching bays.

On one hand Amalia was sympathetic to their plight at beingforced from their homes, but on the other she felt anger that by being forcedto relocate her fortresses defenses there now was a section of the fortressleft vulnerable to attack.

“One of the, uh, parasites” the arms man continuedawkwardly, “demands to speak with you and will not take no for an answer.”

“Oh do they?” The crew began looking again looked morenervous as Amalia’s sarcastic tone was the second strike many of them feared.“And you allow this civilian to make demands of your commander, do you?”

All eyes turned to the arms man who now shuffled nervouslyin place as he met the full gaze of his commander. He flashed a soft smile andsurprisingly shrugged his shoulders under her gaze. “If you had given mepermission to my own devices ma’am I would not be speaking with you; I would beinstead calling the janitorial services to clean up the mess and the infirmaryto come collect a wounded civilian rather than wasting your time.”

The silence of the room was so consuming that one couldalmost hear the thumbing of the building sized generator that powered thefortress some thirty decks below them. Thankfully it did not last long asAmalia laughed and the crew took a collective sigh of relief.

“Your initiative does you credit.” She said as her previousbad mood faded some. “What is your name?”

The arms man stood at attention once more. “Arms man JerricFolber of the core protection unit ma’am.”

She waved him down to be at ease once more beforecontinuing. “You may let in the parasite now Mr. Folber.”

Jerric saluted once more and turned to leave but wasforestalled by Amalia. “But do stand at the ready outside after you have letthem in; I may be in need of your initiative.”

As the arms man leftit was only moments later that the sound of loud clanking could be heard towhich Amalia’s previous bad mood had returned.

The clanking drew nearer and became clear it was fromseveral pairs of overly opulent shoes from a gaggle of equally overdressed hangerson.

The man at the front of this gaggle was Boyar Freedman,founder and ceo of Freedman Enterprises which was one of the largestmanufacturers in the cluster; or it was until the Guvian ground forces poundedtheir headquarters to dust in the Gaspar system when their private securityforces attempted to defend the corporate headquarters. As reckless as it hadsounded for a corporation to stand up to a galactic military FreedmanEnterprises employed a large number of security forces to protect their variouslocations in the cluster and with most of them being former military Mr.Freedman essentially had a private army at his beck and call. The definingdifference had been that the security forces had grown lax policing civiliansfor so long and was not prepared to face the well prepared Guvian groundforces.

After losing his corporate headquarters Boyar had fled theplanet with the remainder of his security forces and had sulked all the way toAmalia’s fortress in hope of protection and an available seat on the nextoutbound jump ship. Amalia summarized that the corporate stooge was here totalk about the later as the wobbly Freedman came before her.

“Ms. Keller, I demand to know why the jump ship has notreturned yet.”

Boyar’s voice was rather high pitched for his appearancegiving it an almost comical tone. Were it under any other situation Amalia mayvery well have laughed directly into his face but for now she was debating ontaking up Mr. Folber’s offer to watch him beat this man to near death.

“Your delay in keeping me abreast of the flight schedule forjump ships is completely unacceptable!” Boyar puffed out his chest somewhat inwhat he no doubt thought would make him more intimidating when in actualitymade him look like a puffer fish. He was a rather short man, standing at justfour feet tall, but what he lacked in height he compensated for with width ashe was severely overweight and were it not for the exceptional skills of histailor he would have appeared as nothing more than humpty dumpty’s plumpercousin.

Seeing Amalia with her back to him still only seemed toenrage Boyar even more. “Look at me when I am talking to you!”

Amalia set down hermug and calmly tapped her right index finger against the tactical displaytable. The nearby crew became increasingly anxious as they knew that once shebegan tapping her finger it was a countdown to an outburst whoever it wasdirected at would not find pleasant.

“Mr. Freedman.” Amalia said, not even bothering to look atthe man. “I have indulged your presence in my fortress as a matter of honorfrom human to human in time of need; but should you ever attempt to address mein such a manner again…” she turned to face him and fixed Boyar with the a gazethat could have turned suns cold as ice “..I will drag you myself to thenearest airlock and launch you into the void myself.”

Boyar’s mouth openedand closed several times in silence like a slack eyed fish before clammingshut.

Not wasting a breath Amalia continued. “For matters ofsecurity the schedule of jump ships will be kept on a need to know basis and asof this moment you do not need to know.”

“But-“Boyar protested before being silenced by a raised handfrom Amalia.

“I will inform you when the next jump ship arrives when Ideem it necessary.” She casually waved her hand and nearby arms men beganapproaching and herding the gaggle out of the room.

Boyar gritted his teeth but said nothing as he stormed off.When he was gone one of her bridge officers came over to her.

“Are you sure it is wise to be in such an unforgiving naturewith them?” they queried cautiously.

She nodded as she tapped several keys on the table and thenext star chart appeared. “You need to keep them in line and remind them thatout there they may be big shots, but in here they are worth just as much as theperson next to you.”

She slapped them on the shoulder after that and pointed backto the table.

“Come, we have a battle toprepare for.”

Unlike other trade conglomerates who have their headquarters on busy trade worlds filled with never ending streams of shuttles and ships transporting untold billions worth of cargo, the ZTO had placed their headquarters on one of the most remote locations in the galaxy. In fact it was well known that despite owning Hypress outright the only standing structure on the entire planet was the headquarters building itself and a nearby landing pad.

The ZTO had been trying for decades now to enter into the lucrative mineral trade but had been stone walled so to say by the mining companies seeking to keep their competitors at a minimum. It was only the creation of the mining guild that the ZTO decided to approach the matter from a different perspective.

If they could strike a deal with Mr. Flint then they would be partners with the sole source of skilled labor miners in the outer systems allowing them the leverage needed to pry the death grip the established mining companies had on the industry.

They had invited Mr. Flint to Hypress to negotiate just that and had sent their top negotiators Hiplin and Glom to facilitate the deal.

“Does the meal to your liking?” asked Hiplin.

“Aye,” Markus began before cutting off a large piece of meat and biting into it, “if this were any fresher than I would think me self back on terra itself.”

From the corner of his blackened eye Hiplin could see glom nodding. It had been his idea to procure the favored meat of humans called “steak”. He had originally purchase an entire cargo hauler of the food for their chefs to practice on until they could cook it perfectly. A seemingly needless expenditure that now was bearing fruit.

“That is most satisfactory to hear.”

Inwardly Hiplin had been frustrated with the level of subtext human culture had established over their few thousand years of existence that surpassed even the oldest species of the universe. Humans, though outwardly simple in nature, had developed a seemingly sixth sense to detect underlining messages that made them shrewd traders.

“I must say I was quite surprised to hear the all mighty Zoomboian’s wanted to talk with me.”

Hiplin looked from his meal to see Markus carefully examining his cup. “With all this wealth and power you have it’s hard to believe what you would need me for.”

As Hiplin was still chewing his food it was glom’s que to speak. “We are not all money grubbers here you know, Mr. Flint.” Glom put down his fork and pointed to himself. “I started out as nothing more than an accountant when I first joined the ZTO and I have never forgotten my origins in the back rows of my accounting hall.”

Markus grunted and set the cup down and regarded Glom, his clear blue eyes sizing up the negotiator. “I can respect that as a made man myself, but even I don’t own an entire planet.”

“Yet.” Hiplin finished chewing and chimed in while pointing his own fork at Markus. Not capable of producing a facial expression of a smile, it was deemed the motion would be the equivalent of the friendly expression.

Markus let out a loud deep laugh and slapped the table before raising his cup again. “I will drink to that!” He downed the contents in a single gulp before resting the cup down and swatting his stomach.

“I best step away before I make myself as big as a planet; lord knows I can’t help myself when I’m around good food.”

“Surely you jest.” Hiplin said, putting down his own fork. “You appear no larger than any other of your species.”

Markus raised and eyebrow and stood up from the table. “Are you joking? If I was any bigger I would be hauled off to the slaughter house and sold as discount Sunday diner.”

Hiplin did not reply as his mind raced. He was unsure if he should continue to compliment Mr. Flint or acknowledge his statement. His training dictated that he should never insult a clients appearance, but with humans the rules were never set in stone. If he continued complimenting him after such a statement he may suspect that his statements are needless flattery and think negatively; but if he confirmed Flint’s statement he risked taking what was meant as humor and turning it into fact risking the possibility of anger.

While Hiplin continued debating internally it was Glom who spoke.

“If you were any bigger you would not be able to fit through the door rather than get all the way to the slaughter house.”

Hiplin’s eyes went wide at glom’s remark and he shot a deathly stare at him which Glom met in turn and with a slight nod gestured for patience.

“This one gets it!” Markus slapped the table again and laughed. “If me wife ever learned I couldn’t fit through a door she’d starve me for weeks to make sure I could fit through grate!”

Markus continued laughing as Hiplin let out a deep sigh of relief. Glom was smirking as he had correctly guessed which tactic would most prevail against a human like Flint. After careful study Glom had determined that Mr. Flint was the human type to despise flattery and favored the simple direct approach in speech patterns.

Hiplin stood himself now and gestured to the adjoining room. “Perhaps we can continue our negotiations now in more formal settings.”

Markus nodded as Glom stood as well and the three made their way to the next room over. As they reached the doorway Glom turned to the still smiling flint and said “If your wife is as plum as you are than I am sure we can send you some larger doors when you return home.”

The first sign something was wrong was when Hiplin noticed had stopped walking. Markus turned slowly and to Hiplin’s surprise the previous smiling face was gone, now replaced with one of underlining hatred and anger.

“What did you just say about me wife?”

The words came slowly but were as sharp as diamonds.

Glom’s own expression appeared surprised and worried so hiplin spoke to try and defuse the situation.

“What I believe my cohort meant to say was-”

“Was I talking to you!?” Markus rounded on Hiplin as a few droplets of spit sprayed from his mouth at the outburst.

Markus turned around again and walked towards glom. “I asked you, what did you just say about me wife?” He stabbed his finger into glom’s chest with each syllable.

“I..I..What I meant to say was..” Glom was stammering now as his mind raced.

Markus was now standing in front of Glom and though he was only a few inches taller than Glom it felt as if he was towering over him now. Markus leaned down slightly so he was face to face.

“Did you just call me wife fat?”

Glom’s mouth opened and closed several times while he looked toward Hiplin for help but nothing came.

Markus fixed Glom with his coldest stare yet and spoke slowly. “You don’t eve'a talk about me wife.”

Before Glom could respond Markus turned to Hiplin with disgust written all over his face. “We’re done here.” he said and then strode off to the exit with his boots beating heavily against the fine wood.

Glom and Hiplin panicked and quickly followed after Mr. flint.

“Mr flint, please accept my humblest apologies for my cohorts behavior.” Hiplin spoke huffingly while trying to keep pace with Markus. “He is terrible with human customs of humor.”

“Terribly so!” Glom chipped in now moving to the opposite side of Markus.

“You don’t call a man’s wife fat to ‘is face and expect him to act like everything is fine an dandy!” Markus huffed loudly and pushed open the thick doors to the hallway leading to the landing pad. “You’re lucky I don’t have me mining hammer right now or else they’d be washing you out of the carpet for months!”

glom was about to say something when Hiplin grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned him to be quiet.

Before they knew it the group was on the landing pad with Markus making his way back to the mining guild’s shuttle with the two negotiators in toe.

“Please!” Hiplin begged as Markus began ascending the boarding ramp, “Let us forget these last few minutes and resume our negotiations; it will greatly benefit us both in the end.”

Markus turned and looked down at Hiplin with nothing but disgust across his face.

“I’ve seen ye true colors now and there ain’t no way I or me guild would ever do business with the likes of you!”

With that he went up the boarding ramp and the shuttle ascending back into the stars leaving the two negotiators dumbstruck on where things had gone so wrong.

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

The weathered oak doors parted slowly and two figures stepped outside into the spring air. Warm sunlight washed over Qwintus for the first time today and his scales flexed outward as if to stretch. He and his co-worker Marvin finally finished their shift for the day and now had the entire afternoon to enjoy this wonderful weather.

“What sssshould we do first?” Qwintus spoke.

Marvin pulled out his data pad and scrolled through the entries. “Not much is going on today aside from the festival of burnt wood so we could hit that up.”

Qwintus co*cked his head in confusion. “Your people celebrate burning wood? Is this not a common practice already in your homes for warmth?”

Marvin shook his head and began walking down the street. “It’s easier to just show you.”

They walked for over twenty minutes through the busy city streets until reaching a small park nestled inside the bustling metropolis.

Qwintus had been to the park many times before during his lunch break to relax in the calming nature but upon entering the park today he could see that something had changed.

Every person who was walking between the trees had a grey substance smeared across their face. Sometimes it was a single stripe, sometimes a decorative pattern, and Qwintus was shocked to see that some of the humans had completely covered their faces in the grey material.

There was also a strange burning smell filling the air like a thick cloud and as he looked around the park he could see piles of smoldering wood that while not on fire were slowly roasting.

Qwintus was so confused that when he felt something poke his right arm he jumped in surprise and saw Marvin standing next to him with three stripes of grey across his face.

“You alright?” Qwintus took a moment to look at his friend as if confirming it really was him before answering.

“Yes..yes I am alright.” He straightened himself out after his embarrassing jump. “What is all of this?”

“Like I said, it’s the festival of burning wood.” He held out a tiny container for Qwintus and he saw inside the same grey material. “Want some?”

Qwintus dipped his long finger into the cup and pulled it out once the tip was soaked in the grey goo. “What is this?” he asked as he rubbed his fingers together smearing it.

“It’s ash mixed with some water.”

“Ash?” Qwintus knew humans were strange but to smear ash across your face was going to the next level of oddities. “What sort of festival makes you smear ash across your face?”

“Twenty years ago during the Gloven war the Gloven vaporized a portion of the amazon rainforest that had a large concentration of human soldiers. They had held the Gloven back for months and their leadership finally had enough and bombarded the forest with super heated plasma.”

“An eighth of the forest was incinerated in an instant along with every soldier that had stood their ground and by the time human relief forces arrived there was nothing but burning wood and ash for miles.”

Marvin dipped his finger into the cup and drew another line across his face with the grey ash. “After the war ended the government declared the day a day of mourning and remembrance for all those who died that day.”

“I had heard the war with the Gloven was fierce but I did not know they would go to such extremes; but that does not explain why you smear yourself.”

“We smear ourselves in honor of those that fell that day and were never laid to rest.” He motioned to the surrounding crowd. “Their souls now wonder the ashen woods eternal now lost in blizzards of ash and dust, but when they see this we hope that they may find their way here and back to those who miss them dearly.”

Qwintus frowned. “The dead can not be brought back to life; you’re short lived species should know this.”

Marvin sighed and looked at him as if disappointed. “The dead are never really gone so long as there is one among us to remember and honor them.”

“They gave their lives defending us and because of this we shall ensure their memory lives on until the sands of time finally fall still and the universe itself crumbles around us.”