We Need a Deathworlder!

“The sky… is falling…” Nodrin says, their mind yet to process what apocalyptic spendor plays out above.

Metal crafts without the need of any sort of large balloon or gas sack fly in the air at impossible speeds and perform incredibly sharp turns. The initial dissenting demon-bringers coated in red are beset by far more aggressive crafts in a vast array of different shapes. Like mythical beasts of old they fluidly soar, expelling breaths of blue and orange flames that travel faster than fireworks.

Red crafts that have yet to touch down on the city streets start to flee back into the sky as their assailants utterly annihilate them without an ounce of mercy.

“They’re… not from underground…” Meeki mutters in awe just before a red craft explodes above, sending its fractured carcass down towards the couple.

Nodrin takes hold of their bondmate and leaps toward a narrow alleyway. By the skin of their fangs, the two barrel between buildings just before the craft impacts. The thing blisters the street tearing up cobblestone like a shovel through gravel. Flames burst forth in concentrated plumes from several cracks in the craft’s exterior, followed by an internal eruption. Buildings adjacent to it are overcome by a shockwave carrying liquid flame and molten alien metals.

Unable to withstand it, the building just on the couple’s left caves in upon the street. The two crawl ahead through the alley as they are soon blinded by clouds of hot ash and dust. Holding on to one another they press on until they feel a solid wall blocking the way forward. A dead end within this increasingly unbreathable air. They stagger up against it, feeling for any footholds to climb up, but have no such luck.

Looking back, Meeki considers the risk of going back to navigate through the wreckage. But the heat alone coming from that direction alone dissuades such an option. Out of desperation she takes out an arrow and stabs it into the wall to perhaps make her own footing, but the stone surface only suffers a scratch. Even though Nodrin is up against her, she can barely make out their silhouette. She wants to say something, apologies for drawing them into this chaos. That out of all the Gratt they could have bonded with, it was she who they followed.

She reaches her head to touch his, but a loud pumping sound occurs. Both of their focus targets back to where the craft crashed. A rushing breeze aggressively comes up to them as hot and cold air displace one another. An odd chemical stench fills the air overpowering all else, and another similar breeze is felt.

It’s almost calming when the intense heat dissipates, but before either Gratt can investigate several lights start emerging from the haze. Pairs of soft circular red lights grow closer, along with the sounds of multiple clacking footsteps. Uncertain of these creatures seemingly escaping out of a pyre, Meeki raises her bow.

“Stay away!” she orders, closer to believing in demons now more than ever.

The footsteps slow greatly, but don’t quite stop. One then speaks in a direct yet soft chirping-like voice.

“Chiklatic, tac mikacha tiik…”

There is urgency, but no aggression as far as the Gratt can tell. Before Meeki can respond another voice follows.

“Air good not. Capital time we cause help." These spoken words sound as though they are spoken through a rattling tube, while being sent through a malfunctioning radio. Unlike the cave-folk, these creatures have a peculiar method to communicate in something that resembles the Gratt’s language. Though it’s almost nonsense, the intent comes across. Or at least… Meeki hopes she understands the intent.

She lowers her bow, allowing the strangers to approach. When they do, the silhouettes with red glowing eyes reach up and press something to their neck over their breathing vents. Although initially twitchy regarding the contact, the sudden realization of fresh air coming from whatever is being held against them is incredibly welcomed. Pressing their hands over their other opposing exposed vents, they intake sweet clean oxygen.

Comforted, they allow these strange people to guide them through the clouds of ash, and navigate around searing hot sections of metal. It’s hard to tell for certain, but the Gratt hear what could be another craft above the wreckage expelling something over it. Whatever it is, it's cold and leaves a thick oily taste in the air. Much more preferable to a suffocating burning inferno in any case.

As they are led away from the wreckage and the ashes begin to clear, the couple start to make out the strangers’ appearance in detail. They are completely covered in suits of strange armor that have glass facial covers. And, unlike Gratt or Cave-folk, have an extra pair of arms that don’t have complex graspers.

Around them are four of these individuals boxing them in… protectively? Each is armed with various and strange looking rifles that make no sense with initial glances. However as the escort moves around the corner a vessel lands on the outskirts of an out of sight skirmish, unloading another group of these six limbed people. As they run out charging, they fire their weapons to which cast what looks like pure magical energy. After laying down incredible power only wielded by gods, they move out of sight deeper into the fray.

Meeki’s imagination runs wild as to who these people are and their relations with the Cave-folk. Are they at war from a place far into the stars? Are the Cave-folk the aggressors or the strangers? Are the Cave-folk on the run from these people? Is that why they were so desperate to take the city? So many unknowns around these unfolding cataclysmic happenings from beyond the sky itself. Though Meeki concedes that there is undoubtedly nothing she nor her people can do at this point. The fate of the Gratt is up to these strangers from the stars, and hopefully, their heroic nature proves long term.

-

“Ayyye! Long time no see my dude!” Dave declares as the barely conscious Simone is rolled into the Kwip-chap’s medbay.

Her eyes lazily take in the incredibly familiar surroundings, feeling as though she now exists in a lucid dream or previous life. Flashes of memories fall into place, and bit by bit her life slowly comes back. She holds on to each memory as if they could slip away at any moment, but they thankfully don’t.

Dave’s scanning light flickers as Seven carefully scoots the redhead over before it.

“Oh fuck dude… like, ingoring your gnarly boo-boos you have at least three unidentified parasites crawling around in ya. And someone make this bitch a big-ass-heart-clogging sandwich! She’s like, waaay into malnourished territory here! Doctor’s orders!”

Seven nods their cranium and floats away in a hurry.

“Dave?...” Simone practically mouths out.

“Sup she-hulk?” Dave replies as it begins tending to the wounds that require immediate attention.

“Please… take it off… before they make me hurt someone…” she begs.

“Hey… I will bud, promise. I have my own gizmos, plus the ship’s keeping signals from reaching ya. But that thing is literally linked into your brain matter like a dynamite buttplug. So it’s gonna require a fuck-ton of my concentration and time to get it outta ya. Right now I gotta make sure you don’t die from the more immediate problemos.” Dave explains right before pulling out a small but long, purple mucus coated creature that screeches out in a high ringing pitch from Simone’s abdomen before safely sealing it in a clear container.

“Okay…” the redhead utters as she allows herself to fully relax.

The now helmetless Cali standing next to her is gently petting her head soothingly, careful not to interrupt Dave’s work.

“I knew you were still alive…” Chak tells Simone, “I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner. I’m sorry that this all happened… I should have-”

“Shhhh…” Simone interrupts before the princess can claim any blame, “This… is from my baggage… my past… If anything… I’m lucky to have you… because no one else would have come looking for a fuck like me… No one else cares… about me… like you do… thank you… Chak…” she says, far too out of it to move a hand up to touch Chak’s face like she wants to.

In fact, her eyelids are just as heavy as the rest of her body, her mind slipping in and out of focus.

Chak leans in closer to kiss the dirtied brow of her lover.

“Everyone on this ship cares just as much as I do… Each and every one of us.” she whispers.

“Hate to butt-in here bruh, but Ms. Gets-hit-a-lot is gonna need to go under and rest for a bit. I pinky promise I’ll get that pesky BrainScrambler-9000tm or whatever removed within the hour!” Dave informs.

“Oh, of course. I’ll just be checking in with my brother, I won’t be far.” Chak replies before giving the redhead one more reassuring stroke through her matted fur.

Before unconsciousness takes her, Simone watches the Cali leave.

“Be straight with me doc… am I worth saving?” she asks drowsily.

Dave doesn’t answer right away, instead the machine works in silence for a solid second. Almost as if distracted by thought.

“Is anybody? Not to start sounding like Seven-the-awoken-hippy-bot, but to the whole flip’n universe everyone is like… inconsequential! There’s no purpose for you flesh bags outside the purpose you bestow on yourselves. You heard the bug-lady, look around ya! You’re worth it to ‘em at the very least my dude.”

Simone smiles softly.

“What about you?... miss me much?... Or are ya… too much of a bucket of bolts?”

“Bruh, this ‘bucket of bolts’ is stitchin’ ya back together better than any organic life form could! Now be nice to the auto-surgeon and hope it doesn’t stitch a permanent phallic shape into your side while you're unconscious.”

-

Looking up at the sky once more, there’s no flying red craft in sight. If they didn’t flee into the dark abyss, then they were struck down. Yet still the battle within the village of Topaiia still rages on. Though now the stranger’s navy of the sky propels warriors and magic flames down upon the invaders.

Meeki and Nodrin are escorted further back into the village where a true refuge for warriors is established. These strangers have fully organized an encampment of sorts. Tents of exotic smooth material lines up the sides of the city streets. Food, water and even medical care is handed out by their star-bound saviors. Not even an hour before, all hope in survival was all but lost. Now… many are able to tell the stories of when the wars of stars came down upon the Gratt people.

“Meeki? Meeki is that you?” an older voice calls out.

She turns to an open tent where injured higher ranked militia and guardsmen are being tented to. The one who calls out is barely able to tilt his head up to see her. Half of his face is coated in a strange medical bandaging, but the visage of Chief Warden Donrick is unmistakable.

“Yes sir!” Meeki replies as she approaches, her mate and escort close by, “I’m so glad to see you’ve survived. We thought the chapel was completely overrun before these- uhm… people arrived.”

Donrick nods.

“Indeed… It was well fought, but we fell. I found myself up in the tower with that- individual you came back with in fact. She… sheltered my body when it was beset by a sky ship… but my consciousness failed me soon after.”

Meeki’’s ears droop from the guilt of possibly being part of this whole attack, but then something clicks in her mind.

“She saved you?” Meeki inquires.

Donrick nods and sets his head back on his pillow.

“That one was a female. Our guests -well to be honest- our saviors told me such. Our Jarl is currently speaking to their leader. A prince from the stars if you could believe something so fanciful. Hard to believe monarchies would exist in a civilization that- bah I’m distracting myself now. Listen, they have a radio-like device that learns language and translates it. Each time one of their doctors comes by to check on me, their words are clearer and clearer. It’s quite fascinating that- bah… What I’m trying to tell you is to go to the Jarl and Prince. The Prince seems especially inserted in the one that first found and brought in that female Terroon. Turon? Turrian? Bah… whatever they call them.”

Meeki lists her hands defensively.

“Sir… I’m just a ranger who has yet to settle. My bondmate and I have yet to even officially request settlement here. I’m not sure if I have the right to place myself within such talks.” she points out.

“Perhaps, but their Prince was very clear in meeting with you if you had survived. And worry not young ranger, you are not to blame for what happened on this day.” the old man waves away.

“But how could you know-”

“The situation at hand is no mere war. The Prince will inform you I’m sure. Now go, don’t leave our savior’s leader waiting.” Donrick dismisses more firmly.

“Y-yes sir. Rest well, you have earned a hero’s spirit.” Meeki farewells, turning back to her escort hesitantly speaking up to them, “Did you overhear all that? Can you take me to your prince?” she asks.

“Cheirit antait Bromalata’motaas klita.” one says with a head bow, a moment later that strange followup voice clarifies “Indeed, it is a priority to take you to Bromalata’motaas.'' Although stiff, Meeki is pleasantly surprised by how improved the words have come from near-gibberish.

“My bondmate, Nodrin. They may come as well?” Meeki asks before Nodrin can attempt to.

“Chit-na.”, “Yes.” they affirm before leading the couple down the street to a landed craft with a wide opening to enter.

The Gratt hesitates and halts at the sheer intimidating power that this craft not only wields but also represents. Something perhaps their kind was to accomplish one day in the far future. It’s like they didn’t belong in the same proximity with such technology that might as well be magic.

“Dig-dig, nikas ta”, “It’s safe, our promise.” a stranger encourages softly.

Snapping out of their stupor, the couple link hands and step on into the maw and on to the belly. There’s strange lights, objects and even architecture that makes little sense to the Gratt. Thankfully, they see the Jarl seated across from one of the strangers, clad in scorched yet gleaming armor of silver.

“-I see… But like I said, I have no authority for all of the Gratt people. Such decisions for a global scale would require our entire governing systems to be rebuilt from the ground up. Such an endeavor in time alone…” the Jarl says to the presumed Prince.

“I understand, but with your people now exposed to interstellar happenings and technology, according to Central Galactic law, your species must be formally cataloged and introduced to the stars. Leaving you with this knowledge and scraps of technology -especially in the possession of a deathworlder species- it would be unethical to leave you to your own devices at this point. The Cali people are willing to aid in efforts to establish your kind to the grandest of communities.” the Prince’s after-voice explains.

“You keep referring to us as that… ‘Deathworlder’... I assure you our world flourishes with life, as I hope you can tell.” the Jarl points out, tapping her claw into the magically glowing table.

“Of course, it’s no term meant for insult. It’s a classification. Most species were raised on worlds that don’t have such… aggressively competitive evolution, temperamental climate, or such force of gravity. I assure you, without this armor I’m wearing I wouldn't be able to live so much as stand upright on this world of yours. You’re people will be quite the force amongst the stars, hence why I have little choice but to involve myself and my people to this degree. I was not expecting to be obligated to aid in a whole species’ uplifting when coming to your world, but I will do my duty.” the Prince clarifies.

“Do we as a people even have a choice in the matter? What if the will of the Gratt is to deny the stars until we rise to them ourselves?” the Jarl inquires.

“We cannot force you to comply, we are extending our grasp to yours. Whether you take it is not our choice to make. However, another rogue group of deathworlders like those Terran terrorists can come across you and do far worse things. I swear to you, if they wished to destroy this village with a single shot from the stars… they very well could have. I cannot spare a constant defense of your world now that it may be known by others. Allow us to bring one of your leaders to Central Galactic as a voice, and they will guarantee the protection I can’t give. If I must aid in gathering your most prominent leaders to decide together, my ships can assemble them in mere hours. If you were to vouch for us of course, we do not wish to cause more panic than what may already come.” the Prince says, before eyeing the two new guests.

The Jarl hunches a bit from all this information, struggling to maintain composure.

“Hours you say? Well then… Very well, I will fully cooperate in organizing and communication. This all just had to fall on my shoulders… such an unexpected yet important role to play. Speaking of which…” the Jarl turns to Meeki and Nodrin, “You two were involved in contacting the first… Terran. Correct? The large one with red fur?”

“Mostly my doing. We discovered them- her in a cave not too far away. She had nothing but a sharpened stick and a fire she started herself.” Meeki confirms, to the great interest of the Prince.

He stands at attention, indeed giving an aura of authority in posture.

“First I must thank you for giving aid to her. She was kidnapped and forced here against her will. The others of her kin that attacked you were nothing more than a group of fanatic militant cultists. A concerningly large group, but not how the majority of their species conducts themselves. The actual Terran people may be notorious deathworlders, but this is the worst of them. Most are amicable and would be horrified by the actions committed here.” he addresses.

Both great relief and terror fill Meeki. It’s absolutely wonderful to hear that these Terrans are not all ‘bad’. But the fact that there are many, many more out there is still rather unsettling to say the least.

“Is she… a friend of yours?” is all Meeki can ask at this moment.

The Prince through his clear face plate looks at her amused.

“Not quite. But she is very cherished by my sister. To the point where she is… in a way… my family.”

“You… came here and engaged in a battle for one individual?” Nodrin inquires skeptically.

“No. We were not expecting an engagement of this magnitude, and would have considered an alternative approach if your people were undisturbed. However, since this terrorist group decided to involve you, it became our obligation to step in with force.” the Prince answers clearly, “This is not how first contact laws are normally conducted, however the pressing situation forced our action.”

“And… What are your plans once you cleared the invaders’ presence? Are we to submit to your rule? Surely the cost of your rescue won’t be forfeited as an act of charity?” Nodrin firmly presses.

Meeki looks to her bondmate baffled that they would be so bold to someone beyond their power in every imaginable way.

“Even if I wanted to annex your world, I hardly have the resources or attention to effectively do so. I assure you, my forces are to legally act as guardians, not rulers. Unless we wish to incur the wrath of the most dangerous force in the galaxy of course, which upholds the laws protecting your rights. Believe me, I have no interest in doing such. We will be a little more than an overseeing, advising and transportational presence. But I will admit, this was not purely an act of selflessness. We have our own vital interests in disrupting those who attack you. Weakening them here aids in our own affairs. Once your people are established within the Central Galactic network, you may no longer require us. Though I do hope we can broker mutually beneficial trade deals and an official alliance when that day comes.” the Prince looks back to the Jarl, giving a respectful nod.

“Is the red Terran well?” Meeki speaks up.

The Prince smiles through his helmet.

“Would you like to ask her yourself?”

-

Chak paces the walkway between the mess hall and medbay, communicating to her brother.

“The Children of Gaia’s station has completely fled into FTL. Your ships are mopping up those who have been left behind.” she informs.

“Excellent. We have nearly completely driven out the ground forces from this village. However there are a few stubborn holdouts, currently waiting for permission to bomb the locations in question. Many have fled into the surrounding forests as well, so I fear we may have a long term campaign ahead of us. I’m hoping to establish a tracking force with the local military. To start training their soldiers to use our weapons and visual gear. They may be primitive to us, but they sure held their own against one of the most feared Deathworlders. Looks like the Terrans are going to have some more galactic competition soon. How’s yours for that matter?” he responds with a tired voice.

“She just finished her final surgery. Her autosurgeon is compiling a full report for us as we speak, I’m nervous… but thankful to have her back. Thank you Brom.” Chak says genuinely.

“This all came together because of you, sister. If we handle this well, the Gratt may prove to be powerful allies in the future. A thankful society of Deathworlders? An excellent potential asset. But there’s much to do before then. By the way, I’m sending you two of them up to your ship. They are the ones who helped your Terran while she was here. They shall be the first Gratts in space, and I’m hoping to make it a powerful moment for their people. May I trust you in making it so?”

Chak slowed her pace to a stop.

“In our set of circumstances… I’ll see what I can do.” she confirms.

“Thank you sister. Be sure to brief me afterwards. And be careful. They seem to be gentle natured people, but they are still inexperienced deathworlders. So keep your armor on while they are there and try to educate them on proper etiquette.”

“Understood. Be well brother.”

“And you, Sister.”

Chak disconnects the line of communication and decides to check back in the medbay. A heavily bandaged Simone rests, her forehead device now fully removed. The redhead’s eyes crack open as the door closes behind the princess.

“Hey… Bo Peep…” she says with a smirk.

Feeling a great relief and excitement overwhelm her, Chak rushes to the bedside and cups Simone’s head in her hands.

“How are you feeling?” Chak chirps, too emotional to think of anything else to say.

“Been better…” Simone replies with a slow wink.

“Is there anything you need? Water? Food?” Chak asks.

“Yeah… I wanna see… everyone…” the Terran says, her eyes already being coated by thick moisture.

“Oh, of course, of course-”

“Invitations sent! Helluva welcome party!” Dave informs with a blinking pattern.

“Oh, umm… thank you Dave.” Chak says as she deactivates her prepped comm.

Before more conversation can be established, crew members begin rushing down the walkway and into the medbay like their lives depended on it.

“Bwhahaha! Simone my lass!” the captain bellows out with his arms open wide, first to enter, “I cannot even begin to express how overjoyed I am to have you back!” his scales a vibrant red.

“Hey Cap… Sorry for my… unplanned offshore leave...” Simone jests with a cracking voice, water now leaking down her face.

“Ha! All’s forgiven!”

From across the way, Seven hovers in with a platter in grasp.

“For your recovery, a cheesesteak with extra everything-ing! Please excuse the bread being soggy, but I remember-ber you enjoy the grease-ase! Also! I learned-ed how to make cocoslab pies! Your’our favorite! In case you don’t recall-all!” the bot rapidly informs as it makes its way to set the plaster down next to the medical bed.

Simone eyes the food only briefly, before looking up at Seven’s three optical orange lights.

“Th-th.. Tha-nnn-k-k…” she tries to express gratitude, but the words can’t form past her growing sobs. Her sore arm covers her mouth to stifle herself.

Finally, a short stubby legged Noxii arrives carefully carrying a familiar canister.

“I hope it’s a comfort that Seven and I have taken great care of the Watathlings in your stead! Though it was absolutely apparent that they preferred your presence, and as do I! Welcome back Ms. Thatch.” Vin spoke, clearly winded from his longer travel to the medbay.

Although rather short, he has no issue lifting up the canister next to Simone.

Her covering hand moves to her chest as see watches the babies swim and curiously looks at her familiar visage. Especially the smallest of them.

Then the Terran loses it, curling forward she openly weeps. Her brain now free from the device up to this point wasn’t convinced that all the good she found herself surrounded by in the past year was even real… that it happened at all… that… she really had found a home where people cared about her. She wasn’t alone, she doesn’t have to be alone anymore. Fuck…

Then something further happens, that she wasn’t ready for. A Cali kisses her forehead, a Tromple braces her shoulder with his grasper, a Noxii takes hold of her free hand, and an awoken machine starts humming a low rhythmic calming tune.

“I’m home… I’m home…” she whimpers between snotty huffs.

“You’re home…” Chak reassures.

-

After Simone is given time to collect herself, she sits the canister of Watahlings in her lap.

“Sorry for keeping you away from your family. Hell of a detour, but I promise we’ll get ya there.” she says to the babies, a bit guilty.

“That we will!” Chucknuq declares in the affirmative.

“Hate to break up the reunion guys, but I gotta give my patient here some news. So like, totally appreciate a clear-out… Cool babies can stay though, their brains and sense of comprehension are tiiiiiiny!” Dave announces.

Just as everyone is about to conceded Simone speaks up.

“Actually… I want them here… Whatever it is… I need that.” she insists.

“Nooo promblemo dude! But I’m gonna get serious here, it’s heavy.”

“That’s fine.” Simone confirmed before looking to the rest of the crew, “Can ya’ll stay? Please?”

“Of course.” Chak agreed, firmly taking hold of her girlfriend’s hand.

The rest silently stand by Simone’s side in full support.

“Okay… let’s start with the good news. I don’t think you're going to die.”

“Hell yeah.” the redhead nods.

“Bad news… you have the worst brain tumor I’ve even seen. Like, I checked records… I’m not even sure if calling it a brain tumor is perfectly accurate… but it’s a growth of cells and tissue from your brain matter, so that’s what I’m gonna call it.”

A bit taken aback by this, the crew eyes Simone, gauging her expression. She is certainly concerned, but leans on Dave’s first delivery of good news.

“So… I’m gonna need another surgery?” she reasons.

“A surgery can be done… however it may do more harm than good. As you can see;” a wall screen blinks to life showing a three-dimentional scan of Simone’s brain. And even to those not very familiar with Terran organs, the issue can’t be more obvious, “This thing is weaved into 40 percent of your brain’s structural tissue and stem. It’s possible for me to scrape it all out and replace it with synthetic or cloned stem cells… but there is no getting around the risk of permanent brain damage or even death. And that’s coming from me. Like, my gizmos are top of the line shit, and the idea of operating on it makes me shit my metaphorical pants.”

“But… you scanned my brain before, right? How can something like this be fucking missed?” the Terran points out, holding back her panic. Thankfully her tight grip is over Chak’s armored hand.

“That’s another thing… this ‘tumor’ can’t be a natural growth. It’s too symmetrical, too perfectly placed. I didn’t do molecular-deep scans of your brain before this, so it’s possible I missed it while it’s initial form was dormant. But it’s of my professional opinion… that this growth was engineered and implanted very early on in your life, even as early as infancy. That device they placed on your head, ‘activated’ it. My fanciest readings are telling me that there may be some kind of information or data in there. Like, it’s almost like an organic hard drive, though I can’t be sure. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Everyone is dead silent. What is there to say? However, Simone bites her inner cheek, trying to put the pieces together.

“But like I said, although this shit’s concerning, it’s no longer acting like an aggressive cancer, as if designed to simply be what it is. It’s miraculously not putting any concerning pressure on your brain, so as long as that device I removed remains removed and we keep a close eye on it, You should be able to live the rest of your life without this being a huge issue. Don’t get me wrong, it is a huge fucking issue… just by the fact it’s there. Like, If I need to do any unrelated head surgery it’s gonna be a goddamn nightmare. But listen, we’ll take it day by day, and try to fully grasp what this is. Perhaps something can be done in the future. For now, just know good ‘ol Dave here will take good care of ya in the meantime.”

The following awkward air is broken by Chak.

“Are you alright?” she asks Simone softly.

Simone looks down at the canister, her mind surprisingly accepting of this insane news after the time she had on that planet.

“Not.. really? But… I’ll take it over being turned into a freewill-less cultist drone. Hell, as long as I can resume my life here with you guys… I’ll be fine.”

“We are all here for you, and we cherish your time with us, Simone.” Chucknuq reaffirmed, “It would be an honor for you to continue your duties as the Chief of Security.”

“That’s all I can ask for… and that sandwich I’ve fucking eating shit that tastes like shit for so fucking long.” the Terran chuckled.

“Alright, I think it’s time we give Simone some time to rest.” Chak states, hiding her burning anger for those who did this to her Terran’s brain. But then a communication comes in to her.

“Princess, this is shuttle four dash six. Requesting docking permissions.” a voice comes in.

Suddenly remembering the Gratt guests, Chak stiffens up.

“Permission granted, I shall meet you in the loading bay.” she responds before looking at Simone, “Oh, actually, before you rest… there’s one more meeting we need to have if that’s okay?”