《Is There Life on Mars?》 Chapter 1 - I: Lady Grinning Soul (X-6) The scientists lay in pools of blood around the conference room. Only a few lucky ones lay on the floor, away from their rotating seats around the octagonal table, having only just begun their attempts at escape when X-6 dropped from the ceiling to cut their conference short. She stood over the last one, a beanpole of a thing in a blue coat, as she deactivated her dual plasma blades. His one eye looked up at her, frozen in a look of bitter disappointment. X-6 took a moment to look at him, savoring another mission accomplished. But only a moment; she had to keep her rendezvous with her extraction. ¡°This is X-6,¡± she said, pressing a finger into the diminutive communicator in her fin-like ear. ¡°I have eliminated the targets. Requesting immediate extraction.¡± ¡°Awaiting you at the starboard airlock,¡± O-4¡¯s soft, slithering voice buzzed back. X-6 took her holo-compass from her belt, scanning the three-dimensional blue-lit schematics of the Solar Sword for the airlock in question. It was only a short length of corridor away; once again, her fellow Dragos had set her up for success. She approached the door, glancing back briefly at her handiwork. She found crimson red-taloned footprints leading backwards to the mound of dead scientists. X-6 lifted her foot and found a blood-soaked sole. She took the jacket off of the nearest body and wiped her feet with it. She discarded the jacket on its owner¡¯s body, then left the room. ¡®Never leave a trail¡¯ was the first lesson Jakk had taught her. He¡¯d gone to excruciating lengths to make sure she¡¯d never forget it. She lifted one of her plasma blade hilts, merely a metal cylinder with its weightless energy blade sheathed, to her eye level. She pressed a button under her middle finger, opening a diminutive viewport at the hilt¡¯s base. Peering at the door through it, she found an orange silhouette standing in attention on the other side. From there, all she had to do was press the button under her thumb and plunge the plasma blade into the door, and she was free to go. She leaped over the crumpled blue-armored body, aiming to head right down the silver corridor until she heard a faint beeping sound. She turned back to the fallen guard, his tall, square-limbed form sprawled, almost proudly displaying the wound in the back of his neck. X-6 checked his gunbelt and found a palm-sized device with a single button beeping away. X-6 growled, crushing the device in her fist and hurling the pieces at its owner¡¯s corpse. ¡°Come in, O-4,¡± she said, activating her communicator. ¡°A guard used his last breath to trigger a hidden alarm. I could be surrounded at any moment.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Carry on to the extraction point,¡± O-4 responded. ¡°There¡¯s every chance you can escape before they catch up with you.¡± ¡°I can definitely escape, but we can¡¯t have them following us. I¡¯ll head to the airlock, but I¡¯ll take the emergency pod. I¡¯ll return to base once I know they¡¯re off my tail. If they haven¡¯t spotted you, you can bring me backup, but if they have, then lure away and rout the ones who come after you.¡± ¡°¡­ Affirmative, X-6.¡± X-6 sprinted down the corridor, searching for the starboard airlock. She knew it would only be a few yards before she found the broad, circular door promising escape and another mission accomplished. Even in that brief distance, the whisper of her taloned feet on the metal floor vanished beneath the thundering march of a company of combat boots. They stopped between X-6 and the airlock door, flooding the corridor with primed lightning rifles and empty black visors. They stood their ground while X-6 kept running. ¡°Fire!¡± One of them near the back roared. Bolts of lightning flew from their weapons¡¯ sleek silver barrels. They arced and splintered through the air, reaching out longingly for the pitch black mesh of X-6¡¯s slim stealth suit. A precious few lucky ones singed her as she dove forth, as much a projectile as they were, but she invited their sting through gritted teeth. Jakk had told her that she would thank him later for those agonizing hours back inside the bio-chamber. Already this battle was far less painful than her last. Even the few bolts that hit did little to keep the soldiers distant from X-6. She made her plasma blades dance through their armor and flesh. The blades cauterized their wounds instantly, though it was little comfort for X-6¡¯s newest victims as they screamed and stumbled over their severed pieces. She moved faster than they could fire, often eliminating two or three in one single leaping slash. She finished in fourteen seconds; she gritted her teeth, knowing she should¡¯ve managed it in twelve. She turned her blades to the airlock entryway, cutting a large ovular hole in the door. Beyond it, she found a dark closet-sized room with two more doors, each bearing garishly lit signage: Airlock and Emergency Pod. She stepped inside, pulling the pod door open, finding it barely large enough to contain a single seat orbited by a bare bones control console. It was difficult to find an angle to crouch so she could carve her way into the pod¡¯s wiring, but not impossible. Barely a minute later, once she¡¯d connected the maze of wires into the pattern she wanted, she emerged to the hopeful sight of a lit-up console. Beyond it, she found the less hopeful sight in the star-studded window - a lightning rifle¡¯s barrel beside her reflection¡¯s head. She found a short-term solution with a well-aimed elbow to the surviving guard¡¯s weapon. A stray shot took out most of the console¡¯s port-side, rendering it a smoking black crater. X-6 ignited her plasma blade, swiping at the guard, who barely redirected the blow to his visor with the butt of his rifle. He followed up quickly, pinning X-6¡¯s neck to the seat¡¯s head with his elbow. X-6 could see his left eye through the smoking hole in his visor. A solid golden eye surrounded by bruised silver flesh glared back at her, pushing out enraged tears as the elbow pushed harder on X-6¡¯s neck. She brought her plasma blade up to his chin and watched the golden eye turn red. She could hear marching footsteps. Within seconds, she kicked the limp guard out of the pod, slammed the door shut, and hit the blinking red ignition button which had only barely survived the stray blast. The pod fled its home like a projectile fired from a cannon. X-6 struggled to strap herself in as sparks flew from the damaged console amid a blaring blood red alarm light. The pod shook, as if suddenly realizing who was inside it and trying desperately to shake them out. But X-6 wasn¡¯t getting out - not until the mission was complete. She reached out, fighting to steady her arm amid the increasingly violent shaking around her, and tried to activate the small navigation screen in front of her¡­ Chapter 1 - II: Speed of Life (Dr. Lena Markova) The screen lit up with an image that Lena was sure she should feel sick of by now. Multicolored bars and numbers highlighted each aspect of a pale red heart; had she not seen so many real ones in her career, Lena would not be able to tell that it was artificial. ¡°Ready to begin, Mr. Purcell?¡± She asked the young man sitting at the computer screen with the brown buzzcut and the white lab coat and intense glare that matched hers. ¡°Ready, Dr. Markova,¡± Purcell said. Lena could tell that the response was automatic. ¡°Very well. Bio-organic heart, test number nine, dated 4:17pm, Friday, Autumn the 59th, 2110¡­¡± She typed the details into a tablet attached to a leather satchel over her shoulder. ¡°Beginning now.¡± Purcell pressed the enter key on the keyboard before him. They both looked ahead at the window separating their cozy white observation room from the testing chamber beyond. The heart sat amid a web of thin tubes that formed a humanoid silhouette. At Purcell¡¯s command, they filled with purple liquid; Lena smiled weakly at the memory of her old university classmates¡¯ nickname for it - ¡®I Can¡¯t Believe It¡¯s Not Blood.¡¯ The false heart started pumping as a red number on Purcell¡¯s screen gradually started going up: 12¡­ 17¡­ 22¡­ Lena read them all as ¡®not 60.¡¯ She recalled visits with her father in Saint Petersburg shortly after beginning her medical studies. He had recently discovered the new online casinos, and would insist to Lena that he had discovered the most foolproof strategy to get rich quick on any given game. She recalled his wrinkled, gray face tensing in anticipation, then crumpling as his strategy so quickly and spectacularly failed. 37¡­ 42¡­ 45¡­ Lena thought he was a foolish old man for falling for it so many times. Now she felt the tension she¡¯d seen on his face so long ago pressing on her skull. 48¡­ 50¡­ 52¡­ What did that make her? A foolish old woman? 53¡­ 54¡­ 54¡­ Not 60¡­ Not 60¡­ Not 60¡­ Lena leaned closer to the screen, making Purcell slide sideways on his chair to make space. She heard her father¡¯s voice echo in her head. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡®One more.¡¯ ¡°Terminate the test, Mr. Purcell,¡± she said. Purcell hit another key, and the testing fluid vanished back up their tubes. The substitute heart stopped abruptly, becoming little more than a formless glob glaring through the glass at Lena for forcing it to live such a fleeting, redundant existence. ¡°Not this time,¡± Purcell said; again, his words sounded automatic. ¡°No, Mr. Purcell,¡± Lena said, removing her half-moon glasses and rubbing the space between her eyes. ¡°Next time,¡± Purcell said. Lena opened her eyes and found Purcell looking up at her with his typical effortless smile. ¡°Next time,¡± she said, replacing her glasses and reflecting the smile. ¡°Why don¡¯t you head off, Mr. Purcell? You¡¯ve done good work today.¡± Purcell¡¯s smile vanished. ¡°Are you sure, Dr. Markova?¡± ¡°I can finish up. And you¡¯re due to clock off in half an hour anyway. The hospital won¡¯t burn down in that time. Go and visit Yesteryear¡¯s. Enjoy your evening.¡± Purcell¡¯s smile returned at the mention of the shop¡¯s name. ¡°Thank you, Dr. Markova.¡± ¡°Thank you, Mr. Purcell.¡± As Purcell doffed his lab coat, Lena left the room and returned to the piercing white corridors of Allen Critchley Memorial Hospital. They were neat, straight lanes populated only with the odd nurse, doctor, or visitor moving swiftly to wherever they needed to be. They were like blood vessels moving through healthy veins, as Lena thought any hospital should be. She took the nearest elevator, traveling two floors up to the long-term care ward. The corridor was as stark and white as any other in the building, but Lena knew that the rooms beyond played at being small apartments, complete with carpeted floors, miniature kitchens, personal bathrooms, and closet-sized spare bedrooms for visitors. She peered through the window on the door of one labeled O¡¯Riley. With the curtains drawn, she saw a young girl with freckles and messy orange hair. She leaned over an old wooden table supporting a fantastic assortment of model buildings. She carefully adjusted the positioning of a building at the far left end which Lena recognized as the Metropolis Theatre. Across from it, past so many other buildings, including a shoebox-sized town hall, Lena also recognized Allen Critchley Hospital, shrunk down to a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of its fortress stature. The entire miniature colony was surrounded by fields of green paints. Lena smiled at the sight; when she was Catherine O¡¯Riley¡¯s age, she¡¯d succeeded only at passing eighth-grade biology on her second attempt. Then again, she supposed young Cathy had the unfair advantage of having all the time in the universe to perfect the art of model-making. Cathy¡¯s father, Harold, knelt at the left side of the model colony, his air almost identical to his daughter¡¯s save for a few gray streaks. He beamed with parental pride at the Metropolis Theatre, as well as all the other surrounding amusements of the Leisure District, no doubt planning to take Cathy to each and every one of them one day. One day¡­ Lena spotted her spectral reflection in the windowglass. Her brown eyes and half-moon spectacles seemed to glare at her. She¡¯d collected even more grey streaks than Harold O¡¯Riley. A web of lines buried the face of the young girl from Saint Petersburg who once failed biology. ¡®This could be the face of a broken promise,¡¯ her reflection whispered. ¡®The face of an abrupt lifetime spent waiting in a room for nothing. The face of every number below sixty.¡¯ Lena carried on, banishing her reflection¡¯s words from her mind and replacing them with new ones. There¡¯s always tomorrow. Chapter 1 - III: Starman (Louis Purcell) Louis folded his white work clothes on the wooden changing room bench before sliding them carefully into his satchel. Only when he¡¯d swapped his uniform for his leisure clothes - a blue long-sleeve shirt and jeans - did he feel it appropriate to head for the Leisure District. He stepped outside and took in a deep breath of air - the new Terraforge was working as efficiently as ever. He followed the short path that led from Allen Critchley Memorial Hospital to the Roddenberry Town Hall; the first was considerably larger than the second, although the town hall boasted a much rounder, regal, and silver visage than the mechanical white of the hospital. They were both made more colorful by the perfectly green grass surrounding them everywhere the cement path had ignored. As Louis passed the town hall, he glanced at the plaque hanging above its broad steps. ¡®Though we were once spread across each corner of our birthworld, we now find ourselves neighbors and cousins on this world. Together, we will rise above the tragedies of Earth. Today, Mars becomes us. ¡®-Wednesday, Summer the 1st, 2107.¡¯ Louis read it in Councilman Meier¡¯s voice; he could still feel the echo of his booming tone even from the middle of a crowd of three hundred people. He carried on, circling the path around the town hall until he arrived at its eastern side, where he turned right at a fork, and swiftly arrived in the Leisure District. It was easily the most colorful place on the planet, with bright lights and signs vying for Louis¡¯ attention in every direction. Images of everything from bowling pins to floating silhouettes offered him every kind of evening out, but Louis already knew where he wanted to go. Two yards into the district and on its right side, Louis found a building with a circular marquee. Scarlet letters curving around it read, Yesteryears - New, Used, and Custom Music on Vinyl, CD, Cassette, and Digital. Louis felt a soothing warmth fall down his spine as he entered to the familiar jingle of the overhanging bell. He felt warmer still at the sight of so many records, all organized neatly, alphabetically by artist, in baskets on several rows of wooden tables. The whole place boasted a gentle burgundy color, like the inside of an old log cabin, made more vibrant by the framed album covers decorating every wall. Louis¡¯ eyes always first fell on the one on the furthest left-hand corner, where a leather-jacketed Billy Joel stood poised to hurl a rock at a house made of glass. Louis smiled and sighed as he entered. For a moment, he imagined that the door behind him led to the brisk streets of Halifax instead of the colorful Entertainment District of Roddenberry. Perhaps somebody had scooped up a little piece of his home, carried it across the stars, and replanted it here on Mars. ¡°I was wondering if I¡¯d be seeing my good friend Louis today!¡± Louis stopped imagining for a moment so he could accept Tiago¡¯s incoming hug. ¡°Tiago,¡± he said softly. Then, louder, ¡°Hello, Tiago.¡± ¡°Saved enough lives for one day?¡± Tiago pulled away, revealing to Louis a gleaming white grin framed in a sleek brown goatee, earnest blue eyes, and a shaggy head of hair. He wore blue jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled down to his elbows; Louis recognized the attire as one most fitting of a used record shop owner. ¡°Yes, Tiago,¡± Louis said with a wide, shy smile. ¡°And good for you,¡± Tiago said, patting him on the shoulder with careful enthusiasm. ¡°You deserve a little break. I was actually about to give you a call; your order¡¯s all set to go.¡± Louis followed Tiago to the checkout desk in the center of the neat rows of record crates. His heart skipped a beat as Tiago reached beneath the desk, handing him a jewel case sporting a solid blue cover with white text reading, Louis¡¯ Favorites. A tracklist followed; the sequence was exactly as Louis had requested. ¡°Thank you, Tiago,¡± Louis said. ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure, Louis,¡± Tiago said, shaking his hand. ¡°Always.¡± Louis stayed a few minutes longer to browse the shop¡¯s wares. He noticed that the Beatles records were out of order; Let It Be was placed before Revolver. He put them in their proper places. After that, Louis set off for home. He passed the Town Hall again, this time taking another fork near its front. It carried him to the Residential District; a horseshoe assortment of small houses in all manner of colors. Some of Louis¡¯ neighbors preferred to keep the gray and beige colors their homes came in, but others had painted them with eye-catching patterns. One of Louis¡¯ favorites was Simon¡¯s; he¡¯d painted a sparkling watercolor mural of a seaside at sunset on one side. The sight always warmed Louis¡¯ heart. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He stopped briefly at the fence of his next-door neighbor¡¯s house. It was painted a cool blue color, but most of its brightness came from its remarkable front yard garden. As Louis approached the fence, he beheld a village of corn stalks, potato leaves, lettuce heads, and carrot stems. They looked fresh enough to eat right out of their soil, but Louis was more drawn to two of the edible village¡¯s furrier residents meeting him at the fence. They leaped up, their front paws resting on the white-painted wood as their tongues came to greet him. ¡°Hunter, Rosebud!¡± Louis laughed, stepping back instinctively before stepping forth again to scratch behind the russell terriers¡¯ ears. ¡°Hey, you boys get a surprise visit from our neighbor nurse,¡± the dogs¡¯ owner said. Aubrey was a tall, lanky woman with a head of curly, fiery hair and freckles that stood out between her sea blue sun hat and overalls. She had a bright, honest smile that brought Louis warm memories of his mother from when he was much younger. ¡°Busy day at the office, Lou?¡± ¡°Yes, Aubrey,¡± Louis said, smiling back. ¡°Busy but good,¡± he borrowed something he remembered his father saying once a long time ago. ¡°Hey, you still feel like stopping by for brunch on Saturday?¡± Aubrey asked. ¡°I¡¯ve grown enough to make my famous stew.¡± ¡°Yes please, Aubrey. See you Saturday.¡± He pictured the calendar in his bedroom at home; his hand was already anxious to write the appointment down. Home at last. He breathed a contented sigh as he entered his front room and set his satchel down on the coffee table. Everything was precisely the way he had left it, from the pillows still aligned with their corners on the couch to the records and DVDs on his shelf in their correct order. The DVDs were listed alphabetically. The records went alphabetically by band name or artist¡¯s surname, then studio albums, then live albums, then compilations, each of them sorted chronologically. He stepped closer to the record shelf, which stretched tall and wide like a gentle giant offering him a big hug. He eyed the records, ensuring that they were definitely all where they should be. He stepped close enough to make out the signatures on a few spines - Darryl P. and Sue. Even they where right where he wanted them. It was a simple house; Louis could stand in its center and have the same distance between the television, the music center, the fridge, the stove, and the bedroom and bathroom doors. The place seemed scarcely touched, although Louis had made frequent use of every utility. He¡¯d made sure to clean up after his breakfast in the morning, so of course the kitchen was in pristine condition for dinnertime now. He wanted spaghetti. He filled a pot with water and set it on the electric stove. In the neighboring cupboard, which held enough packets and cans to last him until Monday¡¯s grocery delivery, he found the spaghetti noodles bound in square paper wrapping. He put them in the boiling water, then put his latest order from Tiago in his music center. It was the latest model, at least as late as 2090, when Louis last had the chance to visit an Earthbound electronics shop. He still remembered how barren the place had been. The machine could play records, cassettes, CDs, and digital, although he never made much use of the last format. He preferred the gentle, crackling purr of the needle caressing the vinyl; music seemed unfinished without it. He poured the noodles from pot to strainer to bowl, then sat in the armchair that faced the back window and listened to Billy Joel. ¡°She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes¡­¡± He didn¡¯t notice his mouth silently singing along. He knew this song, from the Stranger album, was recorded in New York City in 1977. He knew that he could go to his shelf and find the album if he wanted to be sure; it would be written there above Billy and his band in their Italian restaurant and beside Louis¡¯ great-grandfather¡¯s pen-scrawled name. He wondered if Billy, in New York City in 1977, knew somebody could hear him all the way in Roddenberry in 2095. ¡°Oh, and she never gives out, ¡°And she never gives in, ¡°She just changes her mind¡­¡± He gazed up at the stars outside his window. His father had told him that the stars could line up to make shapes. He could see silhouettes of people dancing through space, acting out a beautiful cosmic ballet. A shooting star cut through their dance. Louis imagined it as a spotlight shining on the space-faring performers. Then it grew bright enough to shed red light into his living room. His shadow stretched until it reached towards him across the ceiling. ¡°And the most she will do is¡ª¡± Louis jolted up into his seat as he realized that the shooting star had landed mere yards away from his back door. He clutched his chest as he felt his heart miss a beat. He struggled to decide if it was terror or excitement. He heard Hunter and Rosebud barking outside. He approached the back door and, with a deep breath, stepped outside. He brought his noodles. He heard his neighbors gasping and gawking over the barking dogs. The star had landed even closer than he had suspected; he could see the flames billowing up like an intense campfire, making his little corner of Roddenberry glow orange. Then he saw the pieces of metal twisting out of the flame, like writhing claws reaching for the stars. ¡°Hold on¡­¡± He heard Aubrey say. ¡°What¡¯s that on the ground there?¡± Louis looked again; a silhouette lay on the ground. His mind flashed to three weeks ago. Mr. Cruseau, who lived on the third floor, fumbled his cane while walking to lunch. Louis remembered rushing down the corridor to help him up; he crossed fifteen feet in three seconds. He stood there afraid for about as long, then dropped his noodles and sprinted to the fire. The heat enveloped him as he scooped up the fallen figure, hoisting their arm over his shoulders just as he¡¯d done for Mr. Cruseau. Only then, crouched in the inferno¡¯s glow, did he see what the figure truly was. His hands clutched thick, brawny flesh wrapped in tough, leathery scales. He found his face inches away from one like that of a sleeping dragon; its fin-like ear scratched Louis¡¯ as he stood up, and its long snout housed a cave of pointed teeth. Louis strained as he pulled the creature¡¯s immense weight to its taloned, digitigrade feet, then took his first of many labored steps towards Allen Critchley Hospital. He managed five more before a clawed hand seized his shirt¡¯s collar. Its panther-like speed and vice-like strength were enough to make Louis cry out. ¡°No!¡± His throat went hoarse. Then, through his nerve-wracked teeth, ¡°I just want to help you!¡± His body froze, but he could look at the creature through the side of his gaze. Its eyes had black slits for pupils nestled in a pool of sizzling green. Louis could feel them reaching for him. The claws fell from his shirt, leaving it with a wound frayed with string. ¡°Keep going¡­¡± As gruff as the creature¡¯s voice was, Louis expected it to be deeper. He was glad; by now, he was long overdue for some relief. Chapter 1 - IV: Fantastic Voyage (Dr. Lena Markova) Lena could¡¯ve gone home ages ago. She could¡¯ve been at home, sipping a cup of tea and letting Beethoven and Mozart and Tchaikovsky soothe her to sleep. Instead, she decided that she¡¯d find the time better spent getting even a little more research done. If she¡¯d decided otherwise, then somebody else would¡¯ve become the first Earth-born doctor to take on a patient from another world. She and Louis stood, watching the humanoid reptile with hanging jaws as if it were a zoo exhibit, and struggling to find the self-control to close them. It sat at the edge of the operating bed, looking down its naked scarlet-scaled body at the traces left by Lena¡¯s handiwork. Its left arm, broken in two places, hung across its chest in a sling. A tight belt of bandages hugged its lower torso, keeping its two cracked ribs in their proper places. More bandages and metal splints on its digitigrade foot corrected the direction of a broken ankle. Lena expected worse than all this from a car crash survivor; she¡¯d checked again and again for the slightest cut from a flying glass shard or a severe burn from the flame-engulfed ship the creature had arrived in, but she found nothing. The creature seemed irritated at the sight of the bandages, as if it would¡¯ve preferred to wait however long it took for its body to heal itself. Somehow, Lena knew it was all down to more than a reptile¡¯s natural armor - so much more. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Lena asked. ¡°Fine,¡± the creature said. Its voice was a serpentine growl, but something in its pitch confirmed Lena¡¯s suspicion that it was female. ¡°I need a ship.¡± She stood up, moving past Lena and Louis towards the stark white operating theater¡¯s double doors. She marched as urgently with a bandaged ankle as any uninjured officer Lena had ever seen. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°We haven¡¯t any ships here,¡± Lena called after her. The creature stopped, her damaged foot forward. Lena saw her teeth emerge from the corner of her mouth and knew that it wasn¡¯t from the pain in her ankle. ¡°How can you not have any ships?¡± The creature growled. ¡°You see¡­¡± Lena tried to choose her words as carefully as possible, dreading the moment when the creature turned around to face her again. ¡°We¡¯re still a developing colony, focused on the ground level. All we have are the rockets that transport supplies here from our original homeworld. We haven¡¯t yet the reason or resources for interstellar¡ª¡± It wasn¡¯t enough to keep the creature from bolting out of the operating theater; Lena would¡¯ve preferred if she¡¯d turned and revealed her poison-green eyes again. Louis sprinted after her. Lena followed behind at a slower pace; at fifty-five, she¡¯d only honed the speed for chasing dying patients, not fleeing ones. Her journey was agonizing, filled with ricocheting thoughts of what would happen next. Already, she had witnessed the first extraterrestrial arrival to Roddenberry and become the first human doctor to heal an alien being. What would the next first be - first alien to immigrate to, be imprisoned on, die in Roddenberry? She threw open the double-doors leading outside, finding Louis with his back to her and his hand on the creature¡¯s shoulder. The creature looked up at the stars, barely even breathing. Suddenly, Lena could hear the voice in the creature¡¯s head, telling her the same thing that Lena and each of her colleagues and neighbors realized when they applied for Roddenberry citizenship three years ago. ¡®Your old home is gone. From now on, this place is your home.¡¯ Lena remembered them sounding comforting before. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she heard Louis stay. ¡°You can stay with me¡­ If you like.¡± It was a soft, almost pathetic request. The creature turned to look at Louis and Lena, who saw gears spinning behind those piercing green eyes. They mixed a serpent¡¯s cunning with a child¡¯s agonized desperation. ¡°What other choice do I have?¡± The creature said. Lena let out a sigh at this small victory. ¡°Wonderful,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll begin arrangements immediately. In the meantime, I believe introductions are in order. What do we call you?" Chapter 2 - I: Up the Hill Backwards (Councilwoman Annika Diallo) Annika stood back from the Council¡¯s round table; it offered her a better view of everyone¡¯s mouths. Abigail Wright, as always, led the discussion. She was a short and short-haired Englishwoman, blonde and thin and always speaking above a pair of neatly-folded hands. ¡°It¡¯s foolish to waste any more time discussing this,¡± she said as Annika followed her lips¡¯ diplomatic dance. ¡°If we cannot find any concrete grounds on which to base suspicion of this person, then we can only be obligated to help them.¡± ¡°For all we know, this is by design,¡± Nikita Orlov retorted. All he had for hair was a thin jet black beard. He spoke with a great, theatrical sweep of his calloused palm. ¡°They may be a plant sent to spy on us, analyze our resources and our weaknesses. We should conduct more thorough interviews with this supposed visitor.¡± ¡°And what precedent would that set?¡± Otto Meier leaned on the table, offering all a better look at his wrinkled yet piercing face atop his mountainous shoulders. They were enough to make Annika nearly forget the withered legs on the wheelchair parked beneath the table. ¡°Roddenberry was supposed to be a fresh start for all of us. If we kneel to superstition at the first sign of new visitors, then we risk making the same mistakes that still torment Earth¡¯s people today.¡± ¡°Our ancestors fought among themselves,¡± Maria Torres said, as tall and imposing as ever. Annika imagined her voice being booming. ¡°Not with aliens from other worlds. Our first and foremost responsibility should be to our people here.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Does that responsibility not also include setting an example for our people?¡± Tao Masumi¡¯s black suit, flat hair, and disciplined posture made him seem like a statue of leaderly composure. ¡°An example demonstrating compassion rather than cruel paranoia?¡± ¡°And consider our visitor¡¯s perspective,¡± Colette Fontaine said with several animated gestures from her blue-gloved hands. ¡°If we subject them to more harsh treatment than is necessary, we run the risk of antagonizing them. All we may accomplish is creating the very monster some of you already fear.¡± ¡°The fact is we know next to nothing about this creature,¡± Arthur Swade added, his ginger stubble, flopping gray tie and jacket, and his elbows leaned on the table making him seem almost like a tired graduate student; Annika had seen enough of them to know. ¡°They have a human¡¯s shape but a lizard¡¯s features. We¡¯ve heard them talk, but we can¡¯t know how they think yet. Either way, they¡¯re forcing us to gamble.¡± Annika stood up; instantly and habitually, her colleagues turned to face her. She signed her argument, watching their eyes as they followed her hands. ¡°We¡¯re talking as if we must be married to whatever decision we make here forever. We¡¯ll be able to see our visitor as clearly and regularly as any other Roddenberry citizen. If we discover anything new to give us reason to treat them differently, then we shall. Surely, we still believe in one being innocent until proven guilty.¡± She saw seven nods, some enthusiastic, others reluctant. ¡°Then are we in agreement?¡± Annika continued. ¡°Our visitor may live on Roddenberry with all the same rights, protections, and expectations as the rest of us, unless they prove undeserving of them.¡± Seven hands rose. ¡°I¡¯ll begin writing out a declaration,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Until then, who¡¯d like to visit our visitor and let them know their invitation is now all but official?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Otto said. ¡°I¡¯d like to get a closer look at Roddenberry¡¯s newest resident.¡± With a simple turn of the thumb-sized joystick on his chair¡¯s right armrest, he set off with all the efficiency of a reliable vessel and the determination of a fearless pilot. Later, Annika would look out the window as she awaited her turn to sign the Council¡¯s agreement. She would see the first stars appearing in Mars¡¯ night sky, once again imagining herself as a line in a history book and the stars as eyes scrutinizing her every move from the far future. She was sure their gaze was an approving one, but no amount of approval could mask their unyielding judgment. Chapter 2 - II: Drive-In Saturday (Louis Purcell) Louis wanted to see Fantasia at the Metropolis Theater. He¡¯d been set on it all week since he saw it posted on the marquee outside; ¡®Fantasia - Friday at 6.¡¯ The words were carved into his mind, forever unchangeable. His attendance was simply a fact waiting to be confirmed. He was therefore frustrated by his new friend stopping to stare through the window of Shearman¡¯s Amusements. ¡°Terra¡­¡± He said. She didn¡¯t even glance back at him. ¡°Terra.¡± He raised his voice, but still got nothing. Part of him wanted to carry on to the cinema on his own; it was like an itch in his head. However, he knew that Dr. Markova and the Council trusted him to look after Roddenberry¡¯s guest. He wanted to look after her; it was what he¡¯d always been good at. ¡°Come on, Terra.¡± He stepped up to her and gently prodded her shoulder. He felt the coarse, leathery texture of her scales even through the thick fabric of the green hoodie he¡¯d given her. Terra gave him a sideways glance, looking almost startled at the sight of him. ¡°I¡¯m not used to that name,¡± she said; it wasn¡¯t an apology. ¡°What are they doing in there?¡± Louis peered through the window. Through a door behind the counter, he saw someone in a helmet swinging a bat. ¡°Batting cages,¡± he said. ¡°I want to try it,¡± Terra said; it wasn¡¯t a request. Louis felt a knot tighten in his head. ¡°But Fantasia.¡± He saw Terra¡¯s razor teeth peer from her lip. ¡°This first.¡± Louis felt like he either wanted to yell at Terra or vomit, whichever came up quickest. Instead, he took a deep breath. ¡°She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes, ¡°She can ruin your faith with her casual lies, ¡°And she only reveals what she wants you to see¡­¡± He looked at Terra as he hummed the lyrics, but he didn¡¯t see her until he was done. Until then, he imagined his father sitting at his old piano. He saw Terra again when he was ready; she¡¯d exchanged her teeth for an arched eyebrow. ¡°Batting cages,¡± Louis said, ¡°then Fantasia.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. Inside, the clerk insisted that Terra wear a helmet. ¡°I don¡¯t need it,¡± Terra said. ¡°It¡¯s a safety precaution,¡± the clerk said. ¡°If you get injured, we could be liable¡ª¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I don¡¯t need it.¡± Terra¡¯s teeth appeared again. Moments later, Louis watched as an unhelmeted Terra took her first swing. The resulting noise of her bat striking the first oncoming ball came like a short, metallic cry, echoed by a deafening crack as the ball fled into the netted chamber¡¯s furthest corner. The small metal cannon at the opposite end of the room kept firing at Terra, each piece of ammunition meeting as swift and boisterous a fate as the first. Terra traced a perfect arc in the air with each swing, creating resonant sounds with almost no effort whatsoever. Louis covered his ears, dreading each oncoming crack. He tried to drown out their echo. ¡°And she never gives out, ¡°And she never gives in, ¡°She just changed her mind¡­¡± He was ready for the next crack, but it didn¡¯t come. Instead, he found Terra looking at him with eyes much wider and brighter than before. He noticed the way she held the bat; it wasn¡¯t the over-the-shoulder, loose-in-the-knees stance he normally saw people take whenever he glanced through the window of Shearman¡¯s. It reminded him more of Uma Thurman as Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill, clutching her sword in one fist, prepared to take on another horde of assassins. She kept looking at him. ¡°My turn?¡± Louis guessed. Terra tilted her head. ¡°¡­ If you want.¡± She tossed him the bat, which landed on the floor in front of him. He scrambled to pick it up. They had the baseball cannon turned back on. Louis yelped as he woefully missed his first three projectiles, either swinging too early, too late, or forgetting to altogether. ¡°Here.¡± Terra reached from behind him, her cold, scaly hands closing around Louis¡¯. ¡°Sometimes the best offense is a good defense. When it comes at you, just move your weapon like this.¡± She guided his arms through a quick, slicing motion that put the bag at a downward diagonal angle. ¡°Now try again.¡± Louis did; the next crack still shook his ears, but now it came with a satisfying tingle in his chest as he watched the ball hit the floor ahead of him, rolling away in defeat. He turned and smiled at Terra; his heart dropped when she looked away. ¡°Time for Fantasia?¡± He said. ¡°Fine,¡± Terra said. Minutes later, they were in Louis¡¯ favorite seats in the Metropolis Theater, sixth row from the front on the rightmost aisle; the perfect spot for anyone wanting a great view of the screen and an easy escape to the washroom at any moment. It was only half full tonight, as usual. However, Louis couldn¡¯t help but notice that most people seemed to favor the left side of the theater tonight. ¡°What exactly is Fantasia?¡± Terra asked, sounding almost interrogative. ¡°A movie,¡± Louis said. ¡°Walt Disney Animation, 1940.¡± Terra¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°All of that is just nonsense to me.¡± Louis glanced up, finding a group of happily chatting students sliding into the seats behind him and Terra. The one who sat right behind Terra quickly decided to switch to a seat further down the row. Finally, the light dimmed and the screen flickered to life. Louis still had his grandfather¡¯s DVD of this film at home, but it was an entirely different experience in a theater. The sound system was better than anything he could get at home, but more than that, being at a theater meant that everybody else had to be quiet. They all had to offer their undivided attention. It meant that Louis could allow the film to become his whole world for as long as it lasted. For two wonderful, musical, epic, enchanting hours, there was no Louis Purcell, no Roddenberry - there was only Fantasia. He heard faint humming during the ¡°Nutcracker Suite¡± sequence. He turned away from the joyous, colorful display of dancing flowers and looked at Terra; she was the hummer. He nearly asked her to stop, then he realized that he was also humming. He glanced at Terra again later during the ¡°Rite of Spring¡± sequence. The sight of battling dinosaurs reminded Louis briefly of his new reptilian friend. He found Terra¡¯s eyes more intense than in the batting cages, as if she were afraid the battle would spill out into the theater. Or did she want to join them? Louis counted down the seconds until the next sequence began. The final sequence was ¡°Night on Bald Mountain.¡± Louis¡¯ heart raced with imagined fear as the demon Chernabog awakened atop his mountain, spreading his wings like two sharpened blades in the night sky. With a swipe of his mighty clawed hand, hordes of tormented souls flew into the air. The sight always unnerved Louis, but only enough to make him remember that it wasn¡¯t real. He looked at Terra one more time; she was frozen in her seat, her claws tight enough around her seat¡¯s armrests to draw stuffing. Louis felt himself freeze as well, looking more at Terra than at the screen. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder - was Chernabog real after all? Finally, the musicians captured in time from 1940 took their bows, the lights returned, and the audience made their way to the exits. Louis and Terra sat for a few moments more; she stared at the screen and he stared at her, both of them left with nothing but the sound of their breathing. Louis thought about taking Terra¡¯s hand, but he was too afraid. Later, lying awake in bed, he would scorn himself for it. Terra swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s a movie, then?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Louis said. ¡°Are they all¡­ Like that?¡± ¡°No. There are lots of different movies.¡± Terra got to her feet. Louis followed, surprised at how numb his legs felt. Terra turned to look at him in the aisle. ¡°When can we see another one?¡± At that, Louis managed a smile; he was desperate for one. Chapter 2 - III: Kooks (Catherine ORiley) Just like any other day, it was a perfect day for exploring in the Kingdom of Roddenberry. ¡°This way, Bagsley,¡± Ranger Cathy ordered. ¡°There¡¯s still plenty of uncharted territory on Mars to add to our map!¡± ¡°Ooh, I¡¯m comin¡¯, Ranger Cathy,¡± Bagsley, a humble felt dice bag, bounded alongside Ranger Cathy on his cardboard legs, offering a sheepish smile of blue paint. Ranger Cathy unfolded her Martian map, carefully cut from her favorite space encyclopedia. Her Kingdom only covered a thirtieth of the planet, meaning every discovery to be made in the other twenty-nine was hers for the taking. She sprinted towards the great crimson unknowns, ready for the next terror or wonder to leap out at her. ¡°Ooh, careful there, Ranger Cathy,¡± Bagsley called out. ¡°Ya don¡¯t wanna go too fast now!¡± Ranger Cathy halted. Her hand wandered up to her chest, where her heart had tangled another one of its sneaky knots without her noticing. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. In. Out. In. Out. In¡­ Out¡­ ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Bagsley,¡± she said. ¡°I just want to be able to keep up with whatever we find out here.¡± ¡°Maybe you won¡¯t have to,¡± Bagsley said, hopping up onto her shoulder. ¡°Something exciting¡¯s come to Roddenberry all on its own.¡± ¡°Something exciting? Like what?¡± ¡°Roddenberry has a visitor¡­¡± Bagsley pointed a cardboard tube of a hand up at the white tile sky. ¡°From the stars!¡± ¡°An extraterrestrial!¡± Ranger Cathy cheered. ¡°What do they look like?¡± ¡°She¡¯s bright red,¡± Bagsley said, ¡°a bit like our new home, actually.¡± As he spoke, Ranger Cathy looked straight ahead, imagining Roddenberry¡¯s visitor right beside her. ¡°She¡¯s covered in scales like a lizard, with sharp claws, too - on her hands and feet. In fact, she¡¯s got big dinosaur feet, so I think she doesn¡¯t bother shoe-shopping. Instead of ears, she¡¯s got these two big fins that stick out. I think they ruffle a bit when she shows her teeth. Oh, yeah, and her teeth - lots of them, and sharp, too. I think she could eat a corn on the cob like a popsicle. And she¡¯s got green eyes - green like, um¡­ Like apples that aren¡¯t ripe yet.¡± Ranger Cathy looked Roddenberry¡¯s new visitor up and down. Their tongue wandered out in a hungry hiss as they paced around her on all fours. Their lengthy, serpentine tail cornered her and Bagsley where they stood. They let out an indignant huff that came with a thick cloud of black smog. ¡°But I¡¯m sure she¡¯s very nice,¡± Bagsley added. Ranger Cathy tilted her head at the sight of the looming dragon. Her hand found its way to her chest again. Chapter 2 - IV: Can You Hear Me? (Tiago Souza) Tiago, like his father, hated thinking of himself as a businessman. He viewed the word as a person - a mound of sweating, scowling flesh squeezed into a bleak, gray three-piece suit. He¡¯d seen them marching out into the warm Brazilian sun, rushing between skyscrapers and airports and shouting into their stupid little earpieces. Of course, Tiago respected business and people who could do it. It was a part of life, after all. His family owned a theater, but they weren¡¯t businesspeople. They were artists, musicians, performers, and adoring fans of anyone coming through their doors wanting a place to show everyone what they were best at. Business was the means, but the ends were the toasts, the applause, and the tears shared afterwards. Neither he or his father were businessmen. Businessmen were the people who got in their way. They were the people who¡¯d scrub away the toasts, applause, and tears if it meant even one more miserable digit lit up on their screen. Tiago wished he could grab them by their sweat-soaked collars and scream at them, ¡®take that thing out of your ear and listen!¡¯ But he knew they never would; more talented people than him had been trying since the first time a stick hit a drum. Then, one beautiful day after a grueling trek of terrible days, the message from the Roddenberry Project went out. Tiago still remembered the pit in his stomach as he sat in the bank just before he saw the advertisement on the lobby¡¯s television. He couldn¡¯t remember all the details announced; his brain broke them down into the only ones that mattered - ¡®let us take you away from all the businessmen.¡¯ Three years later, Tiago found himself playing piano in his own music shop, serenading his four customers with his best rendition of David Bowie¡¯s ¡®Changes.¡¯ He barely cared that he ran the first music shop of his new world; he only cared that his neighbors listened. It was enough to make him almost forget the heartache of missing that little theater in Salvador. It helped knowing that his father would¡¯ve also chosen Roddenberry. He finished up his performance with a short, improvised set of flourished notes, earning him as loud an applause as he could hope for from an audience of four. Even the teenager in the back, determined not to be distracted from his browsing, looked up with wide, impressed eyes. Tiago stood up and took a small bow. He then grinned at his audience and said, ¡°don¡¯t tell the boss.¡± They all laughed and returned to their browsing, their smiles lingering all the while. Tiago heard a bell ring and his body instinctively swerved to face the door. ¡°Louis!¡± Tiago threw his arms up at the sight of him. ¡°Ol¨¢, my friend. How are you today?¡± The two shared a quick hug. ¡°Good, Tiago,¡± Louis said, smiling as they parted. Tiago thought he had such honest eyes. ¡°Terra, this is my friend, Tiago.¡± Tiago tried to keep his jaw shut as he looked over Louis¡¯s shoulder. He found Roddenberry¡¯s visitor peering at his vast stock of boxed records. The sight of her terrified him; she looked like a monster from the old horror films he used to download in school, crawled out of the screen of his mind¡¯s eye. He also thought she was beautiful like a rare museum specimen; a blood-red sculpture wrapped in a charity bin hoodie. ¡°Pleased to meet you, Terra,¡± Tiago said, pushing through his fear and offering her a handshake. Terra looked up at him; her poison green eyes scrutinized him, as if he were the more interesting specimen of the two. Tiago quickly realized that, on a world full of reptiles on two legs, a long-haired, dark-skinned, scaleless music shop owner would stand out to anyone. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. She accepted his handshake with a surprisingly firm grip. It reminded Tiago of some of the worst of the businessmen back on Earth. His father once told him that a firm handshake meant firm convictions, but too firm meant that they almost certainly intended to hurt you. Yet Terra didn¡¯t seem to him like a businessman; their eyes were always much more poisonous. He gently rested his other hand on hers. ¡°No need to squeeze so tight,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡± Terra¡¯s eyes lit up with an embarrassed flash. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ That¡¯s just how we do it on my world.¡± ¡°No worries, my friend. It¡¯s so exciting for me to have new customers for the first time in three years. I¡¯m not sure what sort of music you have at home, but I¡¯ll try my best to help you find something you¡¯ll enjoy.¡± Terra glanced around at the shop¡¯s rustic wooden interior as if lost in the forest that the walls once called home. ¡°Music¡­¡± Terra muttered. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Tiago said. ¡°Forgive me; you might have a different word for it. It¡¯s something like¡­¡± He leaned over his piano and strummed a simple rendition of ¡®Ode to Joy.¡¯ He grinned, waiting for Terra¡¯s face to light up with recognition, or for her to offer a piece from her world¡¯s storied history, but she offered nothing but more confusion. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything like that on my planet,¡± she said. Tiago didn¡¯t register the sentence straight away. It sank like fangs into his mind and soul. He tried to picture Terra¡¯s planet and failed; what kind of world had no music? Any trace of fear he had for Terra vanished, leaving only pity for someone forced to grow up on a world without melody. Perhaps the businessmen got to it. ¡°Well¡­¡± Tiago said, struggling to maintain his smile. ¡°I¡¯d love to introduce you, if you like.¡± Terra gave a bemused, delayed shrug. ¡°If you want.¡± She was a cynic for sure. Tiago knew cynics made for both extraordinary artists and efficient businessmen, but he wasn¡¯t about to let the businessmen have her. ¡°Then try this one on and see if it fits.¡± He struck up his piano with a few wandering, descending notes - like falling stars, he thought. ¡°It¡¯s a god-awful small affair¡­¡± These words were his time capsule. They were his youth¡¯s friday nights spent controlling the lights in his family¡¯s theater. They were his arms around his college friends¡¯ shoulders as they stumbled drunkenly back to campus before dawn. They were his lullabye as he settled into cryosleep for the Roddenberry Project¡¯s month-long voyage. They were his, they were Louis¡¯ as he sang along, and 123 years ago, they were David¡¯s. Now, they would be Terra¡¯s. In another 123 years, he and all the others would be dust on a mantle or in a plot somewhere, but some part of them would hitch a ride on these words and carry on soaring into eternity. But first things first. ¡°Is there life on Mars?¡± After another gentle round of descending notes, he turned to Terra with a hopeful grin. She tilted her head, her squinting eyes reminding Tiago of the iguanas in his childhood community pet shop, scrutinizing every new piece of food that entered their enclosures. ¡°What¡¯s this machine for?¡± She asked, placing a clawed hand on the piano¡¯s wooden lid, searching beneath and behind it. ¡°It¡¯s for making music,¡± Tiago said. ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± ¡°That¡¯s all. It¡¯s called a piano.¡± ¡°¡­ How does it work?¡± ¡°Here; have a seat and I¡¯ll show you.¡± Tiago sat up from his stool, offering it to Terra. Sitting down, Tiago could finally see her eye-to-eye. ¡°You start with your right thumb on middle C.¡± Tiago pointed the key out. Once Terra had it, the first bar of Life on Mars followed instantly. Tiago blinked, shutting his agape jaw before speaking again. ¡°No music whatsoever back home, you say?¡± ¡°No,¡± Terra said. ¡°But it¡¯s easy enough to learn how to use a machine, especially if I¡¯ve seen someone else use it already.¡± She played another bar, but it was hurried, mechanical, businessman-like. ¡°There¡¯s much more to music than just hitting the right buttons.¡± Tiago glanced at Louis, midway through his usual browsing tour, somewhere between Queen and Radiohead. He seemed less focused than usual, focused half on the rows of record crates and half on smiling at the sight of his new 7-foot friend playing the piano. ¡°Tell you what,¡± Tiago said, turning back to Terra. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come back for a few lessons? Anytime that works for you.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t take me long,¡± Terra said. There wasn¡¯t a hint of ego in her tone; it was a deadpan statement of fact. ¡°Then when we¡¯re done, you¡¯ll have the satisfaction of saying to me, ¡®Tiago, playing the piano is the easiest thing I¡¯ve ever done.¡¯¡± At last, he saw the faintest of smiles crawl onto Terra¡¯s maw. If he could manage that, then he¡¯d make an artist out of her yet. Chapter 3 - I: Sons of the Silent Age (Charlize Diallo) Charlize willed her body into a pillar of composure as she watched her fellow Cosmos read over her latest script. Inside, she boiled with painful anticipation. She wished she could enter cryosleep, like she did on the flight to her new home when she was fourteen, and awaken with the bandages of opinion ready to be torn off. She looked down the line of readers, all seated comfortably on the colorful bean bags for which Bradbury School¡¯s drama studio was famous. They stood out against the black floor and walls like ships in the vacuum of deep space. Homura read with his trusty deck of cards in one hand, rotating the metal cases thoughtfully between his fingers. While his dark blue jacket and jeans were typical for most students, his round glasses made him seem like a wizard¡¯s apprentice studying a spell scroll. Sammy read from behind a curtain of shoulder-length dark hair as elegant and flowing as her tall, thin frame. She sat in a neat, folded posture that would fool anyone other than her fellow Cosmos that she couldn¡¯t easily bend or twist into almost any shape she liked. Levi¡¯s freckled face kept changing as he read - he went from focused to strict to seeming ready to burst with rage in only a few pages. Charlize rationalized that he was letting his budding character come alive through his face, rather than teeming with anger at her latest dribble. It was good; Charlize knew it was good. She never gave anyone anything that she didn¡¯t like. However, there was always that part of her - that little, petty, self-obsessed author squatting in the darkest corner of her imagination - that always came out for a walk whenever it was time for her work to meet others¡¯ perspectives. She wished Kyla were here; she never felt like this around Kyla. Finally, the flick of each final page rang out louder than the crash from last week. ¡°Thoughts?¡± Charlize asked, keeping her voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s great,¡± Levi said, returning to his usual roguish smile. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to play a villain for a long time.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already got lots of ideas for the meteor shower sequence,¡± Homura said, flipping back to page nineteen; Charlize knew exactly which part he meant. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°I think it¡¯s one of your best,¡± Sammy said, her smile a beam of light from behind her dark hair. Charlize felt both relieved and disappointed. Somehow, after all her hoping, it now seemed that it would¡¯ve been more impressive to have had some truly piercing criticism and come out stronger for it. ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°Then we¡¯d best set a day for auditions for the three open parts.¡± ¡°Usual day?¡± Levi asked. ¡°I can draw up some posters tonight.¡± His fellow Cosmos all agreed. ¡°Monday it is, then.¡± ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll have some new members,¡± Sammy said. ¡°A few fresh faces to keep the rest of us from getting boring.¡± ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Homura said, casually popping the Ace of Spades out of his deck as if launching a cork off of a champagne bottle. With that, the Cosmos dispersed for the night, returning to their homes in the Residential District just around the corner from Bradbury School. For Charlize, that meant that it was time for homework. She despised homework. She always put in her best effort and got it done on time, but were it not for the dangling threat of falling behind and having to spend any longer in school than she had to, she¡¯d gladly launch it all into space. Even the work she thought she¡¯d enjoy like book reports were tedious. She¡¯d written stories; although nothing that had yet seen publication outside of the school magazine that she doubted more than five people read, which included her mother. Still, she doubted that there was anything a Social Studies class could teach her that she couldn¡¯t just as well pick up by doing what she wanted to do anyway. Roddenberry was supposed to be a fresh start for humanity; a chance to try everything all over again with the benefit of hindsight from several millenia¡¯s worth of mistakes on Earth. But Charlize thought that there were some things which nobody could ever get right even if they kept starting again on every world from here to Pluto. One of those things was school being little more than an occasionally helpful time vampire. She reclined in her office chair, letting out a weary huff as she glanced at her nearly-finished report. She was sure she could come up with two more sentences about the ending of Death of a Salesman in the few minutes before class tomorrow. By then, she¡¯d likely be able to come up with something better than how ironic it was that she was trapped behind a desk to study a story about someone who didn¡¯t want to be trapped behind a desk. She looked at the Earth globe at the corner of her desk. The last time she¡¯d seen the real thing was from out of the window of a spaceship; it had been about as big then. She reached out, spinning until she found the continent of Africa. She traced her finger down its Southern half until she found two words at its lower corner that fit the width of her fingernail: Cape Town. Those two words had once been her whole world. She could still shut her eyes and walk to her school, to her favorite seaside writing spots and book shops. Yet, even with a whole new planet to call home, her world felt incomplete. She squinted at the two words and tried to picture Kyla there, as if she could ever fit in such a microscopic world. Chapter 3 - II: What in the World (Aubrey Walsh) Aubrey still remembered the day that a youth pastor came to visit Our Cousins¡¯ Homeless Shelter in Chicago. He described Heaven as a beautiful place up in the sky, glowing with luscious green and brimming with new life. Aubrey still wasn¡¯t sure if she believed in Heaven, but she liked to imagine that her garden was her little slice of it. It fit the pastor¡¯s description to a tee: bright, well-manicured grass orbited her little blue house; everything from carrots to corn to potato stalks sprouted up in neat squares wherever she could find the space for them; even her russell terriers, Hunter and Rosebud, made the garden all the more lively whether they were chasing each other or sleeping in a furry pile on the grass. Aubrey could never have imagined that she¡¯d manage to get the sky part as well, but the Roddenberry Project made sure of it. She admired it all as she strolled between the rows of vegetables, thanking them with water from the can she¡¯d brought all the way from Chicago. Every inch of it was perfect; her slice of Heaven after years spent in her own Hell. The only problem was the thing writhing on the grass. It snuck up on her when she wasn¡¯t looking; sometimes it was hidden between the cornstalks or sprawled in plain sight on the porch steps, but it always appeared when she let her mind wander too long. Its limbs trembled in their locked, rigid posture. Its mouth spewed an endless fountain of thick gray foam. It looked up at Aubrey with pleading eyes the same deep shade of blue as hers. Aubrey forced herself to look at it for a few seconds, then walked away from it as she¡¯d done so many times in the years separating Roddenberry from Missouri. She remembered a helpful trick from her neighbor; she shut her eyes and sang softly to herself. ¡°Objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are¡­¡± She could already tell that the thing was gone, replaced with the dusty smell of a cardboard donation box full of aged CDs. Her first smell of real freedom. ¡°Objects in the rear view mirror may appear¡ª¡± ¡°Ah! Hey! Hunter, Rosebud, down!¡± Aubrey¡¯s eyes snapped open to find her dogs leaping to greet the very neighbor she¡¯d been thinking of. She was happy to see Louis standing his ground better than before. She remembered his earliest visits, when he sheepishly his behind her garden fence until she came to usher the dogs away.Louis wasn¡¯t alone this time. As Aubrey suspected, Roddenberry¡¯s recent red-scaled newcomer stood alongside him, his head at her shoulder¡¯s height. She¡¯d secretly been dreading the sight of Terra. She was sure she¡¯d make some kind of involuntary flinch or gasp, at the absolute least, at the sight of a reptilian monster at her gate. But Aubrey didn¡¯t see a monster; what sort of monster wore baggy hoodies and track pants from a clothing donation bin? The clothes combined with the dogs sniffing curiously at her made it difficult for Aubrey to do anything but smile. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Hey there, you two,¡± she called to them, setting down her watering can to greet Louis with a hug. She approached him with open arms, letting him come in on his own.¡°Stew¡¯s been simmerin¡¯ for ya. Just a minute and I¡¯ll dish some up.¡± She glanced again at Terra, who seemed to be trying to stretch herself upwards away from Hunter and Rosebud¡¯s curious noses. ¡°Oh, darlin¡¯, you can just tell them to¡ª¡± Terra reached down, scooping the dogs up under their bellies, one on each arm, then set them down at the other end of the garden. ¡°Okay¡­¡± Aubrey said, feeling her heart stop for a moment. ¡°That¡¯ll do just as well, I guess¡­ Anyway, how ¡®bout that stew, huh?¡± As they shared their meal in their rocking chairs on the porch, Aubrey struggled to focus on her usual chat with Louis. She felt less guilty realizing they both seemed equally as distracted by Terra. Even the way she simply sat and ate from her bowl of stew was curious. She discarded her spoon to the bowl after a single use, preferring to pick up the sauce-coated vegetables one-by-one with her claws. As she chewed, she stared at Hunter and Bubba at the other end of the garden, where they reflected her intense, curious, and animalistic gaze back at her. Aubrey tried to pry her gaze away, tried to dream up some comforting, inconsequential subject to ask Louis about. She hated how hard it was to stop staring, not just because it was rude, but because it was hypocritical. She remembered the long, cold days and nights spent on her knees, filthy with dirt and rainwater, scavenging for as much as she could find for even a morsel of food or, if she got desperate enough, a bus ticket. She remembered how much easier it got to reach into the deeper, dirtier places once her hands went numb from the cold. She remembered how people used to stare at her as she emerged from alleyways and around street corners, suddenly looking straight ahead if they never noticed her looking back. They hadn¡¯t hurt back then; she had other things to worry about. They only hurt when she remembered their willfully ignorant eyes. Aubrey supposed she had been their alien. ¡°So where are you from, Terra?¡± Aubrey finally asked. Terra¡¯s intense gaze shifted her way and her blood went cold. ¡°Nowhere you¡¯ll have heard of,¡± she said in a blunt growl. ¡°Right,¡± Aubrey muttered. ¡°Then what did you do for work?¡± Terra delayed her answer. ¡°Lots of different things.¡± ¡°So you were some kind of freelancer?¡± ¡°Why does it matter to you?¡± Aubrey froze. It took a few moments for her to find the right words to thaw herself out. ¡°Because I want to know more about you. I want us to be friends.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Aubrey saw Terra¡¯s green eyes narrow at that before returning to staring at Hunter and Rosebud. Aubrey found enough bravery to reach across and rest her hand gently on Terra¡¯s forearm. She could feel her coarse, leathery scales through the baggy fabric of her hoodie.Aubrey remembered the first new clothes she got after finding herself at Our Cousins¡¯. She remembered how coarse her arms had once felt beneath her second-hand sleeves. ¡°And¡­ Because I know what it¡¯s like to be all alone in a place you don¡¯t recognize.¡± Terra looked down at Aubrey¡¯s hand, but she didn¡¯t seem anxious to be rid of it. If anything, she seemed to relax into her rocking chair a little more. She looked up at Aubrey, her vast reptilian maw hovering, searching for something to say. ¡°Thank you for the stew,¡± she finally said. ¡°You¡¯re very welcome,¡± Aubrey said. It wasn¡¯t the response she hoped for, but it was a first step, and she¡¯d learned a long time ago, in the most agonizing way possible, that everything started with the smallest first steps.