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The first thing they became aware of was a faint light shining through their eyelids, the delicate touch of the Irken sun, its golden fingers brushing their cheek with gentle affection. Kir shifted, rolling over, their mind still full of fog, half-awake at best. Wherever they were now, the air was clean and free of smoke.
Smoke.
Kir jolted awake, shoving themselves up in bed, gasping for breath. Their breathing was raspy and harsh in the silence. They squeezed their eyes shut, rubbing their face, feeling the soft hush of bandages against their skin. Their hands shook slightly, but they breathed deeply, calming themself. Slowly, they lowered their hands and looked about them.
They were back in their room in the Tallest Tower, sitting in their canopied bed. It was early morning; the sun was peeking in through the window, catching dust mites in its grasp and tossing them about, glowing brightly in the crisp honey light. Hanging off one of the bedposts, the goggles Ephaerel had given them glinted in the young light of the day. The chair from their desk was pulled up by the foot of their bed, and Merin sat with zheir arms crossed on the mattress, head resting on zheir forearms. Zheir PAK lights were their usual delicate rose pink, but the light was faint and blinked slowly, indicating that the PAK was in Sleep Mode. Merin’s chest moved with zheir steady breathing, zheir antennae curled motionless on the comforter. Kir felt some of their fear ease; Merin, at least, was safe.
Looking down at themself, Kir became newly aware of the bandages that bound parts of their arms and torso. They weren’t exactly sure why; as long as it was in working condition, an Irken’s PAK repaired any injury that befell the organic body. Irkens hadn’t had much used for traditional medicines since the development of the PAKs, and Kir had never seen bandages before outside of a few minor injuries they’d witnessed so far in Torr’s memories. They picked at the cloth, intrigued.
“Kir?” At the foot of the bed, Merin was stirring, zheir PAK lights brightening as zheir processing systems came out of Sleep Mode. Upon seeing Kir, Merin began to cry, hugging them tightly. “Oh, dear Irk, you’re okay!”
Kir hugged zhem back, feeling odd and disconnected. “What…” They trailed off and tried again. “What happened to everyone?”
Merin dropped back into zheir chair, aggressively scrubbing at zheir eyes. “Well, after we got back, Ephaerel healed up pretty fast, but ey’ve been staying in the North Tower with the other Scientists. Ey don’t want to go back to the Massive right now, and honestly, I don’t blame em; I don’t think it would be good for em, let alone safe.”
Kir let out a breath. Ephaerel would be okay. They were both okay.
“Miyuki returned a couple hours after we did,” Merin continued, “And she’s been up at the top of the tower since. I think Fib’s gone up there a few times, but he’s busy with his own jobs.” Getting this close to a big festival, Fib had an increasing amount of events to manage and host, on top of his news show, concerts, and whatever else he did when the doors were closed. Day in and day out, the Almighty Tallest was constantly monitoring the Irken Empire, but the Announcer never found a second of sleep either.
Kir felt a prickle on the back of their neck and realized that Merin was watching them, zheir face thoughtful.
“…Is everything alright?” Kir asked nervously. They should be used to being studied like this, but it was still unnerving.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Merin admitted. “How do you feel, Kir?”
“I… I feel fine.” Kir was surprised even as they said it. They had just been caught in an exploding spaceship, but they felt like getting up and taking a walk in the sunlight. Despite everything that had happened up on the Massive, they felt no pain. Even being an Irken, they had still expected some pain after all that, even if their body had already healed.
Merin was frowning. Dragging zheir chair closer, zhey held out zheir hand. Kir placed their clawed hand in Merin’s palm, and zhey stared at it, turning it over to look at the bandages, the ointments applied to their burns, which were still jarringly prominent. None of Kir’s injuries had healed in the slightest, but they didn’t seem to be in any distress.
Merin gently pinched Kir’s arm, watching their face. No reaction. “Did that hurt, at all?” Merin asked slowly. Zhey hadn’t pinched them very hard, but zheir claws were pretty sharp; surely, they should have felt some degree of pain.
Kir shook their head. They had felt the slight sensation of Merin touching their wrist, but no pain.
Merin released their hand, zheir eyes distant. Finally, zhey murmured, “It’s like I thought.”
“What do you mean by that?” Kir began to panic. Was there something wrong with them?
“Congenital insensitivity to pain.” Merin mused, tapping one of Kir’s bandaged arms. “It would certainly explain a lot.” Noting Kir’s confusion, zhey continued. “You’re constantly tearing up your claws but don’t seem to feel anything, you’re showing no signs of any pain despite being heavily injured, and if you have CIPA, it could also explain why your injuries haven’t healed when Ephaerel, who was even closer to the bomb, has been conscious and walking for days now. If pain signals aren’t getting to your brain properly, they aren’t making it to your PAK, either. Your body is relying purely on its natural healing processes; the PAK doesn’t even know you’re injured.”
“Oh.” Was all that Kir could manage. After a moment, their voice small and trembling, they asked, “Am I gonna die?”
Merin squeezed their hand. “You’ll be okay; you just need to be careful.” Zhey smiled comfortingly. “Don’t worry, though. You have strong people to protect you, and I’m not gonna let you be alone anymore.”
Kir returned zheir smile weakly, trying to take comfort in zheir words.
Merin’s PAK trilled sharply, and they both jumped. “Ah.” Merin said softly, releasing Kir’s hand and pulling up the message they’d just received. The hologram was blurred from the other side, so Kir couldn’t see was it said and could only watch as Merin’s expression flickered. “I… I have to go.” Zhey murmured. Giving Kir a quick hug, zhey got to zheir feet and were out the door before Kir could even say goodbye. Their parting words died in their throat, and they sat in silence, staring at the floor. They had so many questions about themself and the situation, so many things they didn’t know, burning at the back of their brain. There were two things, however, that had been tearing at their mind since the first time they’d seen the red skies of Vort, had run on Torr’s feet and seen through his eyes.
Who exactly was Torr, and why did Miyuki want his memories so badly?
Shoving aside their blankets, Kir climbed out of bed. Their conversation with Merin and its new revelations would have to wait until later for review; they needed to go find Miyuki and get some answers. There was a fear underlying their every step as they put on their uniform over their bandages and crossed to the door. Surely Miyuki had a reason for her secrets, right? Was Kir pushing their luck? They paused, their hand hovering mere inches away from the door.
No.
They deserved to know.
Their resolve firm, Kir pressed the largest button on the door controls, and it slid open with a hiss. They hesitated for not but a heartbeat before stepping through the doorway and out into the hall, their eyes sharp and determined.
It was like stepping off a cliff. As soon as Kir passed out of their room, their vision lurched, their head spinning. Their PAK made a low whining sound that faded into a horrifying silence, like the final breath of a dying animal, a bloody finale. Kir staggered and caught themself, but only when they had recovered their balance did they realize the truth of what was happening to them, and their fear hit them like a train.
Whichever way they looked, firmly planted in the center of their vision was a set of four hazy white numbers. When it had first appeared, Kir’s Lifeclock had been at 10:00, but as they watched, the numbers flickered, counting down, spelling out their doom with each downwards step, a horrible dance that they couldn’t look away from.
09:59
09:58
09:57
Kir’s breath was coming in shallow gasps as they leaned against the wall of the hallway. They could feel themself already beginning to slip away, their PAK unresponsive, shying away from their call as the timer ticked ever downwards.
09:44
09:43
09:42
Desperately, Kir lurched away from the wall, staggering back through the doorway and collapsing into their room. The whining sound returned, raising in pitch and urgency as Kir’s PAK booted back up. The Lifeclock shuddered in their vision, and then slowly faded away.
Kir gasped for air. What the hell was that about? Was there an issue with their PAK? It had never done that before… Kir shuddered, trying to push past their instinct, but eventually giving in to the truth of it. It had to be Miyuki. She had complete control over Kir’s PAK, and had found a new way to keep Kir under control and just where she wanted them.
There was a bitter taste in Kir’s mouth. They desperately didn’t want it to be true, but it seemed the most likely option. If it were the Pure Irk Extremists, they wouldn’t have even let Kir leave the room; they would have simply killed them in their bed, probably right in front of Merin, to deal as much damage as possible. They were cruel, but they weren’t stupid. Miyuki wasn’t stupid either, but killing Kir was far from being in her best interests. All she needed was to keep them in line.
Kir stared at the closed door for a minute, and then spun on their heel, marching to their desk. If they couldn’t talk to Miyuki, then they’d have to figure this out for themself.
So far, Kir had seen about a hundred short memories from the Minddrop file, little snippets of the life of a stranger. Most of them had been of his family, his mothers and his sister, Blu. Kir had watched Torr grow, watched him go to school on Vort, in those hot classrooms whose vents just barely filtered enough dust out of the air to keep the students alive, watched him figure out who he was and how he could take care of the people around him, watched him love and lose and laugh and cry. Everything they’d learned was disjointed, and as they sat at their desk, they pulled up window after window on their PAK, typing and rearranging the holograms, trying to make sense of this beautiful alien mind whose memories were now mixed with theirs.
The more they began to put pieces together, the more they filled in their timeline, the more confused they became. What did Miyuki want with this Vortian? Sure, he had been working on Ederin’s team for a long time, and he knew way more than almost any other Vortian about space folding and Vortian engine design, but all the things Kir had seen him learn were things that were being shared with Irk because of the alliance. Why Torr? Was Kir’s only purpose to fact-check the things Ederin told Miyuki, to make sure the Vortians weren’t lying to them?
What was the purpose of the Minddrop Project?
Something was itching in Kir’s mind. They stared at their array of notes, a scrambled mess of a timeline glowing in the air before them. Their eye caught on the first of Torr’s memories that they’d seen, his escape from Vort. There had been something, they mused, right at the end…
It clicked. As Torr had looked out the window of the shuttle, there had been one final thought in his mind before the Minddrop File closed.
He had made it, and soon, he would be far away from here, helping President Ederin build a new home for Vortiankind. He had a project that he’d been working on that he thought Ederin might be very interested in…
Their timeline winked out as Kir jumped up, their hands shaking with excitement. Torr had been up to something, and whatever it was, Miyuki had wanted it. As quickly as their excitement rose, it sank again, replaced with frustration. Why did Miyuki have to be so secretive about all of this? If they had known what to look for, they might have been able to figure out more about Torr’s project. Did Miyuki know what it was? She must; otherwise, why would she have sought Torr out specifically?
Kir froze. What had happened to Torr? Their hands trembling again, they pulled the timeline back out, rereading the last few memories. The most recent things were all about the early negotiations of the alliance; these had happened years and years ago. What became of Torr after that? How had Miyuki gotten those memories from him, and what had she done with him afterwards?
Much to their dismay, the timeline before them had raised far more questions than it had answered, and they were once again fighting a losing battle against Miyuki.
There was a knock on the door, and Kir panicked, trying to decide whether or not they needed to hide the timeline. Before they even had time to respond, however, Fib entered, his eyes instantly landing on the rippling holograms floating in the air before Kir. He hesitated for a moment, and then sighed, closing the door behind him.
“Who was he?” Kir blurted, unable to stop themself. “What was so special about Torr that Miyuki created me with his memories?”
“Glad to see you’re doing well.” Fib said wearily, wiping a hand over his face. Kir didn’t respond, just continued to stare at him, wild-eyed. He sighed again. “Alright, sit down.”
Kir plopped down on the edge of their bed and Fib took the chair Merin had been in earlier, propping up his feet and leaning the chair back onto its rear two legs. He fiddled with one of the faux feathers from his cloak, warily eyeing Kir, whose eyes were shining with excitement.
“Torr was Ederin’s head scientist,” Fib began. “He worked on many of Ederin’s space-folding experiments, and probably knew more about space travel than any other Vortian. Certainly, more than us Irkens.” Seeing the look on Kir’s face, he added, “But you already know that much. That’s not the whole story, though. Torr had… other plans. As the Vortians were fleeing from their own planet, Torr was feeling pretty pessimistic about their opportunities of discovering a suitable new planet before their rations or fuel ran out. In all honesty, he wasn’t wrong to worry; it was a sizeable stroke of luck for both sides that our two planets managed to make contact. Despite his misgivings, though, this guy wasn’t about to give up on Vort. He had his own ideas.”
“He had a project of his own.” Kir murmured.
“Yeah.” Fib looked amused. He waved a hand to quiet Kir, and continued. “Torr had been developing a technology that could help feed the starving Vortians. By the time the alliance began, he had spent years dabbling with the manual deconstruction and reconstruction of molecules, and was finding ways to apply his experiments to extracting the required material from surrounding landscapes that might not have easily accessible food and just… build his own. Ederin poured a lot of resources into Torr and his tests, and it seemed like he was getting somewhere.” Fib’s face darkened slightly. “Of course, Ederin wasn’t the only one that took an interest in Torr.”
“Miyuki?”
“The one and only. The moment the alliance was solidified, Miyuki and the Minds had their eyes and ears out for Torr. Miyuki had a whole book of ideas on how she could use Torr’s technology, but it wasn’t easily recreated, and Ederin wasn’t letting her in on jackshit. Even with the Irken powers and their spies after him, Torr managed to remain secretive, and he did a good job at staying one step ahead of Miyuki at all times.” He chuckled. “Drove her mad, Torr.” His smile lingered for a second more, and then it fell. “But she caught up.” His eye was stormy, brooding. “She always does.”
Kir watched him carefully, waiting a moment before asking, “What happened? To Torr? Where is he now?”
Fib barked out a bitter laugh. “Dead and buried, kid! He was sweet, but he was a stubborn little brat, and when Miyuki couldn’t get him to help her himself, she turned to plan B and hooked him up to a PAK. The PAK downloads a copy of the organic body’s memories, but PAKs aren’t compatible if you aren’t Irken. The parasite is designed for their host, and the host is built for the parasite. Anything outside of that relationship becomes entirely consumed. She even gave him another chance, to work with her directly, but by that point…” He shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
Kir was numb. All their life, some ghost of Torr had followed them everywhere, and they’d never really known him. They’d been naïve to think he was out there somewhere, living peacefully among the stars. They realized they were shivering. This tower had felt so safe and secure, but they weren’t sure who to trust anymore.
They knew nothing of who Miyuki was behind her smile, and that scared them more than any of their recent near-death experiences ever could. They’d trusted her blindly; would they pay the price for catching her eye, like Torr had?
Kir still had so many more restless questions, but they were interrupted as Fib stood up suddenly. “Right.” He said, clapping his hands together as if to dust off the horrors he’d just been discussing with that calm, lighthearted tone. “Alright, I’ve checked in and answered your questions, now-”
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Kir interrupted.
“What?”
“Until now, I never knew anything about what I was even supposed to be looking for when I opened the Minddrop file. Why did she keep it all so secretive?”
“Kid, I wish I could understand even half of what goes on in her mind.” Fib murmured. “I wish.”
Kir wasn’t very satisfied with that answer, but they didn’t get a chance to pester Fib further because he was already making for the door. Kir watched him leave, feeling all of what he had just told them sinking in, their earlier defiance withering slightly.
No.
“Fib, wait!” Kir scrambled to their feet as Fib paused in the doorway, looking bemused. They took a deep breath, clenching their clawed hands into fists. “I want to know more.”
Fib frowned. “Kid, I’ve told you all I-”
Kir cut him off. “No. I want to open the Minddrop file again. I need to know more.”
Fib hesitated. “Are you sure? You just woke up…”
“Yes.”
It seemed for a moment that he was going to say no, but then he shrugged, impassive. “Sure.” He swept out of the room, and Kir hastened to follow, their mind whirling. This time, their PAK stayed on. They shivered.
Is Miyuki watching?
When they reached the top floor, Kir was surprised to see that Miyuki wasn’t there. The lights were off, the Control Brains pulled back up into the ceiling; their lights flickered faintly from the shadows above the two. Fib called them down, and Kir stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting nervously. Now that they knew what they were looking for, could they finally be of real use?
Time seemed to slow as one of the Control Brains hooked itself into their PAK. Their breath echoed in their ears, a hollow, deafening sound. They closed their eyes, tuning out the small noises around them, Fib’s pacing, the odd skittering and chiming of the Control Brains, their own breath.
With a whir, the Minddrop folder opened.
In the moment before Torr’s memories hit them, Kir braced themself, sucking in a breath like they were diving to the empty, ethereal depths of the sea. There was a moment of silence, and then everything came rushing in. As usual, Kir tumbled through the sea of stimuli at first, buffeted by waves of emotion, but they’d learned much since that first time. They pushed through the nausea, restraining themself from grasping at anything they could reach, searching for what they now knew was there. Flickering in their mind’s eye, just barely in reach, they saw something, and there was nothing left to do but lunge out and take it.
He lay on his back in the soft, rich soil, eyes closed, the sun warming his face. Its touch was gentle, lightly caressing his cheek, so much kinder than that bloody eye he’d grown up under on Vort. There was a cool wind in the air, too, and he welcomed it as it toyed with the collar of his shirt, the cuffs of his pants. Half asleep, he opened his eyes just a sliver, the cotton candy sky of early morning shining above him, all blue sky and clouds painted pink by that gentle sun, just barely stirring from its slumber.
Torr sat up, the fields of grain swaying around him, a gentle swishing of golden stalks. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and edged back out of the grain field and back onto the dirt road, feeling calmer than he ever had on Vort. This place was Elysium; it was perfect.
Ahead of him, the dirt roads stretched on into the hazy morning light, and he could’ve walked along it all the way to the heavens, but after a few minutes of strolling along the edge of the lane, he turned right onto a smaller path between the edges of two grain farms, winding his way through the cleft. On either side of him, swaying crops grew taller than he was, stretching up towards that cool blue sky, streaked with thin, wispy clouds as though a painter had slipped while creating them.
At the end of the road, where both farms ended, a small grove of fruit trees started, and it was there that he returned to every day, to the tiny wooden cottage, with wide, open-air windows and a steeply slanted roof that nonetheless had accumulated a collection of leaves, pulled free from the trees by the playful wind and tossed about.
Inside, Torr’s work tools were scattered about, blueprints pinned to rickety walls and scrap paper bestrewn on the floor, covered with lines upon lines of Torr’s tiny, cramped handwriting. There was a chest in the corner by his bed, and he opened it, gingerly lifting out the device inside, the result of all his recent experiments; the prototype for his machine that would be able to help his family, his whole race, to let them break free from this parasitic alliance with the Irkens and find their own home, to better support them.
He felt a chill run down his spine. That is, if he lived that long. He knew he’d was being watched, had been seeing shadowy figures in the edge of his vision, feeling eyes on the back of his neck in empty rooms. If he was lucky, they still didn’t know about this place. He delicately set the machine back in its case, locking the chest.
There was a faint rumble, and Torr ran to the door. Far off, above the line of forest beyond the grain fields, a storm was brewing.
With a jolt, Kir felt themself back in their own body, their excitement a humming in the back of their mind that was rapidly increasing in pitch, drowning out any other concerns.
“Well?” Fib asked, seeing the eager elation on Kir’s face.
“I got it!” they blurted out, fumbling their words as they excitedly continued. “I saw his work, and I think I know what to do!”
“Good!” Fib seemed genuinely impressed, their giddiness bleeding into him. “What do we need to do?”
Kir was processing all that they’d just learned, from what they’d managed to read off of the notes pages, to Torr’s own eager thoughts. There was one thing, however, that stood out above the rest.
“That’s the thing!” Kir was beaming. “We don’t even need to necessarily recreate it all from scratch!” It would be very difficult to try and recreate all the Vortian techniques used in Torr’s technology, but now, they didn’t have to. “He already had a prototype, and I know exactly where it is!”
The door opened with a hiss, and both of them whirled as Miyuki entered, looking curious. “What’s all this about?” she purred, amused.
Kir froze up, unable to meet Miyuki’s eye. After all the time they’d spent watching snippets of Torr’s life, they thought he was one of the most sweet, genuine people they’d ever seen, almost as nice as Merin. He was always supporting his family, aiding those in need, and in fact had only become a Scientist so that he could try and improve the living conditions on Vort. When the planet had been deemed uninhabitable, he had leaped onto a new goal, to try and keep the Vortians safe, healthy, and comfortable, and to guide them to a new home. He had poured his heart and soul into helping billions of strangers that had just been forced to abandon their homes, stuck traveling to an unknown destination, surrounded by unfamiliar stars.
And Miyuki had killed him.
Intrigued by the flickering of different emotions on Kir’s face, Miyuki turned to Fib. The Announcer just calmly met her gaze, eye dull, a blank page. He was waiting for Kir to make the first move.
Kir was torn. All their life they had trusted Miyuki. Miyuki had cared for them, treated them like they were important. She was kind; Kir could hardly imagine her killing someone like Torr. The more they thought about Miyuki, the more doubts about Fib rose. Was it possible he was lying to them? It had never occurred to Kir to question the motives of either the Tallest or her Announcer, but now they couldn’t help but face the truth: they really knew nothing about either of them. Should they tell Miyuki what they’d learned? If they didn’t, would Fib tell her anyway? Could they actually trust either of the two?
“Kiki, is something the matter?” Miyuki asked, her voice concerned. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me, you know.”
She loves me. Kir took a deep, shuddering breath. They weren’t sure whether or not to believe Fib, but regardless, they knew that Miyuki cared about them. She wouldn’t hurt them. Even as they made their decision, they felt something twist in their gut, an inkling of doubt remaining.
“Torr.” Kir blurted. “He had a hideout on Esrel. That’s where he was keeping a prototype of his tech, and that’s where we can find it all.”
Miyuki’s eyes sparkled, and she beamed at Kir. “Kiki, you’re spectacular!” she crowed, placing her hands on Kir’s shoulders. Kir tried to squash their doubts, forcing themself to relish the praise.
Miyuki was looking about the room, clearly excited. “We’ll have to go to investigate as soon as possible. Of course, Fib and I both have duties to attend to on Irk, but we can send Merin and Ephaerel with you, and hm… some of the others from the North Tower should probably go as well. We need to make sure we do this right.”
“Wait, now?” Kir asked, surprised. They picked at one of their bandages. They weren’t exactly in any pain, but from their conversation with Merin, it seemed that with injuries such as theirs, one would usually wait a bit longer before galivanting off to another planet to search for a tiny shack in an unknown field of grain.
“Of course!” Miyuki was already calling the Control Brains back down, getting ready to summon Kir’s companions to the tower. “I have Merin on another project right now, but it would likely be better for zhem to go to Esrel with you…” she mused.
Kir had no idea what Merin had been called away to do, but they nodded eagerly.
As Miyuki swept Kir up into preparations for their trip to Esrel, Fib stood to the side, watching with his arms crossed, his hooded eye broody. He seemed faintly disappointed, as if he had been hoping somewhat that after what he’d told Kir, they would have stood up to Miyuki, or at the very least try to lie to her. As Miyuki began summoning the other scientists, he slipped out, disappearing into the cloudy gloom of midmorning.
Kir was excited to see Ephaerel again. True to Merin’s words, ey seemed entirely healed, a spring in eir step as ey came to greet them. The two chattered excitedly, turning to greet Merin as zhey stepped in off the transfer. Merin had an air of discomfort about zhem as zhey entered, but zheir expression brightened as zhey saw Kir and Ephaerel. Kir trailed off midsentence, noting the two strangers that followed Merin out of the transfer.
Miyuki noticed the wary look in Kir’s eyes and hastened to introduce the two. “Kiki, I’d like you to meet Dal and Q. They’re going to be accompanying you on your trip to Esrel.”
“Nice to meet you.” Q said gruffly, offering a hand for Kir to shake. They were tall and broad, more visibly muscular than other Irkens Kir had seen before. They wore a dented metal chest plate and a plated skirt. Their right arm was missing, a bound stump. This was surprising to Kir; most Irkens that permanently lost limbs opted for prosthetics, but Q didn’t seem to mind. Their other arm was protected with a solid metal shoulder plate and elbow-length dirty work gloves. There was a faint scar stretching up from the collar of their shirt to just below their right eye. Their eyes were a warm brown, narrowed into a suspicious glare as they looked Kir up and down. Kir hastily shook their hand, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
Dal was huddled in Q’s shadow, his eyes wide open and staring at Kir, who awkwardly avoided his gaze.
Q sighed. “C’mon, you little dork.” they grumbled, lightly shoving Dal forward. They took his wrist in an iron grip and held out his hand. As Kir shook it, a shudder ran through Dal’s body and he yanked his clawed hand back, cradling it gingerly to his chest as though Kir had scratched him. He stared wide-eyed at them.
He was rather small for a higher-ranking Irken, and he seemed to realize this, shrinking into Q’s side as though he were trying to hide from the other Irkens in the room. He didn’t look terrified, exactly, in the way Kir was used to seeing fear, but rather suspicious. Heterochromia wasn’t naturally common in Irkens, but Dal had one eye like spring on Esrel, a beautiful flowing green, and another of raw honey or spun gold, both staring intently at Kir. His Scientist coat was tied around his waist, and he wore a white tank top underneath it, tattered black leggings, soft brown boots covered in mud, and golden bangles around his wrists that reminded Kir of the Vortians. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder that was stuffed full of flowers and vines, small leaves scattered across the path he’d walked while entering. His antennae were straight forward, trying to pick up as much information about Kir as he could.
Miyuki smiled, seemingly satisfied. “Good travels.”
Dal and Q weren’t as naturally friendly as Merin or Ephaerel, and Kir felt awkward around them; especially Dal, who continued to watch Kir like a hawk as they were escorted via transfer car to the spaceport. During the ride, he never let Kir out of his sight, sticking tight by Q, who seemed far too used to his antics to even show him any sort of exasperation. Kir tried to shake off their misgivings, focusing their attention back on the trip at hand as they stepped into the Primary Spaceport.
The ship they’d taken to the Massive had only incorporated some basic Vortian concepts, but the vessels used for travel beyond Irk’s orbit were much different. Kir recognized engine designs from the Vortian ships they’d seen in some of Torr’s memories, and to the trained eye, the new generation of Irken spacecraft, though staying the same stylistically, were almost more like Vortian ships. That certainly wasn’t a bad thing, though; trips to Esrel would have taken weeks on a purely Irken vessel, but with Vortian space folding, it would only take them a couple of hours.
Instead of sitting on the bridge with the Navigators this time, they were escorted to a more comfortable living place, a large room lined with cushioned seating and some sparse decoration, with a smaller room attached for utilities. The whole thing felt homely, but in a hollow, distracted way that almost reminded Kir of their chambers in the Tallest Tower. Like a life no one truly lived in.
As they settled in before takeoff, Q slipped into the other room to get something to eat, followed hesitantly by Dal, who shot one last glance at Kir before scampering after the big mechanic.
Finally out of earshot, Kir turned to Merin. “What’s up with Dal?” they whispered.
“Hm?”
Kir winced. They probably could have phrased that better.
Merin gave a soft smile. “Oh, Dal. He’s alright, once he realizes you’re not a threat.” Zhey leaned in closer to Kir and murmured, “One of his closest colleagues was killed during an attack by the Extremists. Q’s the only one he really trusts anymore. He’s a great biologist, but the alliance and all the ensuing issues in recent cycles have taken a bit of a toll on him. Just… show him you’re not a threat, if you can?”
Kir looked down at their hands clasped in their lap. It seemed like the alliance had brought a lot of problems to both sides; if Dal’s feelings were shared by much of the general public, then the Pure Irk Extremists could be closer to winning than they had thought. Kir wasn’t exactly sure how they’d go about seizing control, but they had an idea.
The Irkens’ system of choosing leaders was height-based, a characteristic determined by the programming of their PAKs and something that could easily be modified by the Control Brains to fit their needs. Buried somewhere deep under their devotion to Miyuki, almost every civilian knew that the system was corrupt. Meanwhile, Vortian civilization was structured around a democratic government. Ederin had been chosen to lead them, and so he did.
Vortian technology wasn’t the only Vortian idea bleeding into Irken society in the past couple cycles. Their structure of government had been attracting some Irken interest as of late, and this was something that the Pure Irk Extremists could capitalize on. If they could sow the seeds of dissent, they had a chance of dethroning Miyuki. The group had already proven themselves to be remarkably talented at evading the watching eyes of the Minds; if they could overwhelm the system with chaos, they could take the upper hand and completely overthrow Irk’s current government. Irk’s figurehead, the Tallest, would fall, and so would the Control Brains, replaced by an authoritarian oligarchy, which at that point would already have had the full support of the public that it needed to get into power. They would cut off the alliance, but with the Vortians in such a vulnerable position, they could do so much more than that.
Kir shuddered. Irk’s future wasn’t as bright as it had been just a short while ago. They just had to trust Miyuki. She knew what she was doing. Most of the previous Tallest had been cherry-picked early on by the Control Brains to be tall, just based on how agreeable and beloved they were; they were mere puppet leaders, with the Minds pulling all the strings to keep the Empire growing. Miyuki, on the other hand, was competent. The Control Brains had allotted her far more power than would be given to a standard Tallest, and she used it to the fullest, with the help of the Announcer.
If anyone could stop the impending doom of the current Irken Empire, it was those two.
The floor beneath Kir’s feet began to rumble, pulsing with energy. Kir gripped the seat as the ship began to move. There were portholes above the cushioned benches they sat on, and they knelt on the seats to peer out through the thick glass, watching as Irk’s surface shrunk beneath them, the ship rising into the heavens, a burning comet with a tail of black smoke. Seeing an Irken ship produce that much pollution made Kir’s skin crawl, but they pushed aside their fears as they gazed through their little window to the stars, watching the Vortian city-ships go by, huge, blocky starships with countless smaller constructions built onto them, bustling with activity even on the outside. The city-ships were almost as large as the Massive, each home to at least a billion Vortians, but Kir imagined it would get exhausting to stay in the same small living place, everything the same, much like their life in the palace back at the Capital.
“Hey, Kir!” Merin was calling to them from across the room. Zhey were sitting cross-legged on the floor with Ephaerel as ey dealt out cards with a swift flick of eir wrist. Merin gestured Kir over, and Kir smiled, hopping off the bench to join them. Artificial gravity had been activated as soon as they’d left the atmosphere, but Kir’s movements still felt unbalanced and strange.
Ephaerel dealt them in, and they took their cards, trying not to feel the enormity of the void around them pressing on their mind, squashing that old, familiar stirring of anxiety in their chest. It was only four hours until they reached Esrel. They looked around at Merin and Ephaerel, who were chattering excitedly, and let out the breath they’d been holding, allowing themself to become distracted.
Their worries could wait.