Best as they could tell, there was very little, if any, power running in the ship. The wreckage appeared to be ancient, but in space such things were hard to tell. It wasn't a make or model of ship that she or any of her crewmates recognized, and the scant amount of language printed on its hull was as foreign to her as any star chart. They'd compared it to everything on the computer, and it didn't come back as any known language, and it certainly wasn't Erassian,

Athaleen, or just Athy for short, was just a technician, and right now her job wasn't to fix loose handrails or replace fuses, but to get a pair of very ancient metals doors open by any means necessary. No one had any idea what they'd just found, but their Captain was excited!

They were all excited.

If this ship was something they could report to the Union, then they'd all be given such a huge reward they could all quit running freight and go home! Being in the middle of a cold war with the Erassi made freighter life dangerous. The last time the fighting was hot, the Erassi targeted all the major shipping routes and ransacked and scuttled civilian ships no different than they did military vessels.

And Athy didn't want to play any part of that. This weird ship could be their meal ticket out of a lot of worry.

And they'd found it by complete accident! Wendle, their navigator, had detected a weird anomaly on his sensors. It was far off the normal shipping lanes, but he justified it to the Captain that the anomaly had a signature similar to a ship, a large metallic mass that couldn't possibly be an asteroid. If it was an old war wreckage the Union would pay them a salvage fee, since anything from the war would still have value in it, especially if it was Erassian.

But no, what they found wasn't any sort of obvious warship.

It wasn't anything like they'd see in the history vids or on the news today. The ship they'd found was shaped like a large diamond, but very flat like it only had one or two decks. You couldn't see it clearly with the naked eye either, since the hull had this weird coating of paint that acted like a mirror. You looked at it and just saw a black void with twinkling stars. All of their ship sensors had trouble maintaining a steady lock onto it, too. The only reason Wendle found it was because he was a mental case that couldn't stop himself from checking every little thing on his computer. His sleepless nights of staring his eyes raw were finally paying off, since that weird anomaly that kept appearing and disappearing in front of him turned out to be something!

They, meaning she and Teri, now had to cut their way through the only access hatch they could find. A full quarter of the ship had been destroyed. It looked like something had crashed into it at high speed and punched a hole clear through from one side to the other. The rest of the ship seemed fine, if you ignored the gaping hole in its starboard side.

They'd first thought to enter through the damaged portion of the ship, but it was just too dangerous to try to enter the ship through the damaged section. Their space suits weren't meant for exploring salvage and wreckage. The material of their suits was only about as thick as Athy's pinky finger and was intended to preserve body heat more than anything else. Her helmet did all the breathing for her with a compact air tank strapped to her back.

Athy held her plasma cutter steady, carefully torching the metal surface of the hatch. That weird paint was on the hatch, too, and the heat from the cutter was making it bubble and pop silently in the vacuum of space. Judging by the shape of the hatch, and the apparent controls for it, she should be cutting through a lock of some kind. They'd find out soon enough.

Teri had his hands on a handle, weird letters etched in white around it. Probably instructions for how to open the door without a plasma cutter, but too bad they couldn't read it. She finished cutting her way through the area they felt was a locking mechanism, and Teri gave the handle a tug.

The hatch wiggled for the first time since they'd found it, not even a single hiss of atmosphere escaping through the crack in the seal.

"Easy." Teri told her before nudging her aside.

He took hold of the handle with both hands and planted his boot on the ship's hull. He tugged, and the now loose hatch began to swing out. The cuts she'd just made were already growing cold and she hooked the plasma cutter on her belt so she could grab the hatch and help him shove it open the rest of the way.

It was open now.

Teri unhooked two magnetic tethers from his belt, along with a short length of cable. Normally these were for safety harness when they were doing space walks on the hull of their own ship, a tether that could keep them from floating away and off into space. Today, they were being used to hold the hatch open, just in case.

"Didn't leave the lights on." Athy said out loud as she shined her flashlight into the opening.

"Captain, we just gained entry." Teri said after touching the radio on his shoulder.

The ray of light from her flashlight revealed an empty airlock of foreign design, which was then verbally relayed to the Captain.

"You can go in, but be careful. We've finished packaging the scan data and external video log of the ship. Just waiting on you." Their Captain replied, Athy hearing it through the earpiece in her own helmet, same as Teri.

He touched her shoulder, and she took it as a signal to start easing herself through the opening. More of that weird foreign language was printed everywhere inside the airlock. She couldn't read it, but the gist of it seemed to dawn on her, considering there were narrow seats built into the walls with little handrails and seatbelts. There appeared to be lockers with foreign equipment stored inside them, some of them left open and others shut.

"This definitely isn't Erassian." Teri muttered after he opened up one of the lockers. A spacesuit was folded into a rectangle inside of it. The helmet above it was of a strange design. It was almost completely round with a glass faceplate that wouldn't have fit a muzzle. It was too short. Even an Erassian would have to smash their noses up against the glass to fit inside it, and they were notoriously short-muzzled creatures.

"What's that?" Their Captain voice came over the radio.

"I said it wasn't Erassian, Sir." Teri spoke up.

"Alien, you think?" Athy looked over at him. Athy caught his eyes through the glass of his own helmet, and he looked excited! She was anxious but seeing him smile was making the excitement infectious.

"I think we're going to retire early, Athy." He grinned.

"Don't get your hopes up. What else is there?" Their Captain ruined the moment.

They pushed ahead, Teri relaying verbally what they we seeing, describing the airlock in as much detail as he could while Athy moved to the opposite end of the airlock where there was another hatch.

This side was much easier to open, too.

Even with the ship being out of power, and despite that fact they had to force their way through the outer door with a plasma cutter, the interior door of the airlock was just a simple locking mechanism, some kind of handle in the shape of a wheel. Neither of them could read any of the language printed on the metal, but a wheel was a wheel, so Athy grabbed it and began to turn it to the right.

It didn't go very far, so she started twisting it to the left and that was the trick. Both of them heard the bolt slide. For an airlock this seemed like a very crude method of sealing a ship, but it did have a gaping hole punched through it with no power supply. Maybe this was a failsafe to make sure crew could go in and out during an emergency?

The hatch popped open with the smallest of hisses, venting what little atmosphere was on the other side out into space. Athy gave it a tug, but it was no good. She swapped places with Teri and he had to plant his boot to the wall again, heaving the hatch open enough for Athy to shine her light through the opening. Beyond the airlock was barren gray hallway. Tiny amounts of debris floated in the air, but it didn't look like anything important. Trash debris.

Teri touched his radio, describing to the Captain what they were seeing. His description all but confirmed that what they'd found was alien in origin. In the background noise of the radio, the ship's doctor, Creet, could be heard stressing caution, but the Captain was eager for them to get inside and take some video footage.

They needed to send as much proof to the Union as they could. The more they sent, the faster they'd send a ship out to verify it.

Teri couldn't hide the excitement in his voice, and honestly she was, too! This was a once in a lifetime opportunity! They were going to go down in history as being the second crew of Rankalans to ever discover alien life, and they'd actually get to survive! The first sentient life Rankalans met in space had been the Erassi, and then they were all promptly blown up, triggering the start of a very long and bloody war that had only just recently grown cold.

The two of them pushed ahead, moving slowly through the hallway.

Teri pulled out his own flashlight, and together they scanned their surroundings until they both noticed that there must be a power source still active in the ship. Their flashlights were reflecting light off these small glass orbs mounted into the ceiling, like tiny camera lens. Athy clicked hers off, then pushed off the floor with her foot to float up to one of the orbs.

"It's on!" She gasped, seeing that inside the black glass of the orb was a tiny red light.

"Are you sure?" Teri asked.

"Yeah! There's a little light bulb in here, it's red. Turn off your light." She told him.

He clicked off his flashlight and now they were bathed in total darkness, except for what was inside their helmets. She looked down the hallway and saw the tiniest evidence of more little red lights mounted into the ceiling.

"Think they're cameras?" Teri asked, clicking his light back on.

"Probably, but I don't think the security guard is still around to watch us though." She pointed out.

"Ter** *an y** *pea* **at?" Teri's radio was starting to have static.

"Captain, that was mostly static, copy?" Teri thumbed the radio.

"Dam**t, interf****ce. C** ***k and g* * *ignal boo****." The Captain tried to tell them through the static.

"We can barely read you." He replied, Athy clicking her own flashlight back on.

"I think he wants us to get a signal booster." She told him, and Teri nodded while waiting for a reply.

"We should head back. Grab a booster and mount it in the airlock like he says." Athy suggested.

Teri agreed, telling her that that'd be a good idea. If something happened to either of them, they wouldn't be able to radio back to their ship for help.

"Captain, if you can hear us, we are returning to the ship to get a signal booster." Teri told the radio, not knowing how much of his message went through. They could try again once they were back at the airlock, they hadn't gone too far into the ship yet.

Teri began to move first, but Athy gave the hallway one more pass with her light. The emptiness of the ship was eerie, but apart from the little red eyes in the ceiling there wasn't much to see. Her excitement to explore had been dashed by their need to go back for more equipment.

"Athy." Teri whispered to her.

She turned back around and found Teri was waiting on her. She touched off the floor and floated to him, but he grabbed her by the arm as soon as she was beside him. He stopped her from going any further, and she turned to him confused. His helmet was set ahead, staring forward.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He hastily shook his flashlight up and down, the ray of light aimed at something in front of them. She turned, looked.

A small glossy black disc was now sitting in the middle of the hallway in front of them. It was about a foot wide and half that tall in its center and set right in the middle of it was a fist sized glass orb with a red light in the middle, like the ones in the ceiling but bigger. Athy's heart was suddenly racing, and Teri tugged her by the arm to draw her backwards.

"Let's go back." She told him.

"Where to? It's in our way!" He hissed back in a whisper.

The disc had somehow appeared behind them, and now blocked the only way back to the airlock.

"Captain? Captain!" Teri tried his radio.

Static was all that returned, not even a scrap of a word!

The black disc began to move towards them, a low buzzing sound echoing through the hall as the small machine slid across the floor. Teri grabbed her and hauled her backwards, yanking her roughly down the hallway and away from the little machine.

"Teri! Where do we go!" She shouted at him with panic.

"I don't know!" He replied, his voice shaking.

The buzzing got louder, and they both stepped backwards into a junction. With her flashlight she threw light down one of the other hallways, and a second small black disc was there, sliding across the floor in their direction.

"I don't know what to do!" Teri shouted, and she grabbed him by his arm, the pair clutching at each other as they each spun their flashlights around and checked every corridor that led away from the junction.

Athy spotted a third disc, and she cried out in fear, then felt Teri yank her again. He dragged her down the last hallway, their flashlights dancing across the metal surfaces as he quickly pulled her away from the frightening devices, the red eyes in the ceiling following them everywhere they went. Athy reached out her hand and grabbed the radio box on Teri's shoulder.

"Captain, please!" She screamed.

There was no reply.

"Let's just keep going, Athy!" Teri kept his hand on her arm, his grip tight with fear, as they came to a stop at a sealed door.

Teri started groping at it, searching for a wheel or a handle, anything. She joined him, clawing her fingertips at the smooth metal, searching for any kind of seam that might have revealed a panel, anything!

"Captain! This ship has these things inside it! Captain!" Teri shouted into the radio.

Athy was crying now, turning her back to the door and shining her light back down the hallway. It felt to her like all those little lights in the ceiling were staring at her, and below them in the distance was a single black disc with its own red eyes watching them as it slowly slid across the floor.

"Teri!" She screamed, her tears flowing hot down her cheek.

"Captain Troyler!" Teri shouted at the radio.

There was a loud thump, it echoed through the entire ship like someone had beat a large metal drum with an even bigger hammer. Another thump and the entire ship began to shudder.

"What's happening!" She cried, and Teri spun around and put his back to the door.

"Ok, Athy, we need to stay calm! H-hand me the cutter." He told her, and she fumbled with her belt until she finally unhooked the plasma cutter and shoved it at him. She saw his face through the glass of his helmet, and he looked as frightened as she did.

"Captain? Can you hear us, please!" He tried the radio again, his voice pleading, but there was no reply forthcoming.

Suddenly, something collided with the hull of the ship, shaking them both off their feet, leaving them spinning in the hallway until they both landed against the wall with a harsh clap. Athy's ears were ringing, and she felt a sharp pain shoot up her arm.

She screamed.

Teri groped to find her through the darkness, both of their flashlights drifting, spinning wildly in the air and throwing light in every direction. Spinning, spinning, Athy felt Teri grab her, making her scream as the pain in her arm shot up to her shoulder again.

Little red lights staring at them from down the corridor, the buzzing sound of a small black disc growing louder as it approached.

There was another loud thump, but it didn't stop. It kept happening, a deep bellowing echo that shook the ship so violently that they both collided with the ceiling, Athy screaming in pain again right before her faceplate smacked against the metal wall. She heard it crack.

A large white star was now spreading out across the glass in front of her nose, and she started screaming with terror as the cracks overtook most of her vision.

"Teri!" She cried his name and felt him grab her.

The thumping wasn't stopping, the ship shook again, but they were now floating in the middle of the corridor where the violence couldn't reach them.

"Calm down, Athy! Calm down, it's going to be ok!" He pulled her into a hug, kicking his legs in the air like he was trying to swim them to the sealed door.

Their flashlights were still spinning, her plasma cutter lost now to the darkness.

"Captain! We've got an emergency! Captain! Wendle, anybody!" Teri was shouting at the radio, his voice wild with panic.

The door behind them opened, the spinning light of their flashlights showing the metal spin in a circle before sliding out of sight. Teri let go of her, groping at the open doorway to stop himself from spinning, and then grabbed her by her injured arm.

She screamed, but he pulled her to him, dragging them both through the open doorway as she wept from behind the spiderwebs etched across her faceplate.

There was then another collision with the hull, like something was trying to break it apart from the outside. The entire ship lurched violently, slamming Athy against the ceiling. She could feel her left arm hanging broken at her side. The door they just passed through slid shut, and in doing so bathed them both in darkness, as their flashlights were now on the other side of the door.

"Athy! Athy!" Teri was calling for her from somewhere in the room.

There was an audible pop as the cracks in the glass finally gave, and she felt the air leave her lungs as oxygen vented out from the hole in her faceplate.

Athy died in darkness, while a little red eye watched.

Captain Kylene woke up in a strange place. She was supposed to have been in a stasis pod, but it looked like she was presently strapped into a medical pod. Not only that but those pods all had clear glass covers and it looked to her like the outside of her pod was iced over thick. There were only two of these types of pods on board her ship, the FSS Trajan, and both of them were in the medical bay. So why was she in the medbay?

She made an effort to move, but her limbs and torso were all strapped down securely, even her head. There was a brace fixed around her neck that kept her from doing much more than wiggle, and her arms and legs were presently bound tight by security straps, which were usually only used for combatant patients or cadavers.

"Good afternoon, Captain Kylene." BOA, the ship's AI, greeted her with its cold monotone, but from where she couldn't tell.

"BOA, why am I in the medbay? What's happened?" She asked it.

"Captain, during your scheduled shift in the stasis pods the FSS Trajan was struck mid-warp by an unknown object, presumably an asteroid. We sustained catastrophic damage and fell from warp in an unknown quadrant of space. Under Federal Protocol I maintained stasis on all non-essential crew and only woke those with the relevant skills needed to stabilize the ship's condition." BOA replied calmly.

Kylene was very suddenly not calm!

"BOA! Get me out of this pod! I want a status on my crew!" She shouted, jerking her body at her restraints but failing to do anything more than make her arms and legs sting from where the straps dug into her flesh.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I cannot open the pod without killing you. You are no longer inside the FSS Trajan." BOA replied, and Kylene sucked in a breath and forced herself to count backwards slowly from ten to calm herself. She was going to need her meds for this. Her heart was too old to put up with this shit.

This was a non-combat exploration mission with zero chance for anything to go FUBAR, so how the flying fuck does something hit them while they're in warp!

"Give me a status report, please." She asked the AI, trying to calm herself and her heart rate down.

BOA was a highly advanced artificial intelligence that was only used within certain makes of Federal warships. It was a ‘military' grade AI. Civilian AI were legally required to be several orders of magnitude dumber than BOA.

"After the Trajan was knocked from warp, I instructed select members of the surviving crew to begin emergency repairs. The asteroid made contact between the stern and starboard sides. The ship's engines were irreparably damaged as a result, but the reactor was unharmed." Kylene continued to count numbers to calm herself as she listened. BOA had mentioned, "surviving crew". She had 54 people on her ship when they'd left Ganymede! How many did she have now? And why wasn't she "inside the Trajan"?

"Chief Engineer Daniels was able to secure the Trajan, but without the engines we were stranded. I failed to estimate an exact location for the Trajan with our star charts. When we fell out of warp, I can only surmise that we were propelled dramatically off our intended course." BOA said.

"Casualties, BOA." She commanded.

"You are the only survivor, Captain." And she felt herself grow still with shock.

"What? How?" She asked. Her fists were clenching so hard she felt her fingernails bite into her palms, the straps holding her arms down biting hard into her skin.

"After the repairs were made, I instructed all crew to return to stasis. I cut all non-essential systems and routed everything to life support for all functioning stasis pods. I compiled a data packet containing our situation and best-known location and loaded it into all available cloaked beacons. I launched them all in a staggered array to optimize the chances that one of them would reach friendly space so the FSA could detect their signal." BOA explained, and Kylene was still struggling to accept that she was somehow the only survivor.

"You and the remaining crew were then kept in stasis for 5 years, 7 months, and 13 days. Several stasis pods suffered malfunctions from the initial damage and those crew members perished. I was able to maintain the rest of the crew's life signs until first contact was made with a pair of unknown vessels."

"First contact?" She asked, heart racing and still in shock.

"Two vessels of unknown origin approached the Trajan. The first arrived and was non hostile. Two humanoids forced entry through airlock A5 and explored our interior while the second vessel approached. I was able to determine that the first vessel was likely a trade vessel, but the second vessel was using primitive stealth technology. The second vessel fired on the first and destroyed it with kinetic weaponry."

"Jesus, fuck me." Kylene exhaled hard and started to feel her body get the shakes. "You're lying to me, BOA. This is all a fucking joke!"

"No, Captain. I cannot lie to you." BOA replied, and Kylene wanted to punch the glass, and she would have if she could move her damn arms!

"I know that! You just fucking told me my entire crew is dead! What happened to the Trajan? My crew!" She shouted.

Her voice, now that she had heard herself a few times, sounded funny. Being strapped tight in a medical pod, and having been silent for nearly 6 years, had messed with her voice. She was damn certain it'd messed with her head, too, because all of this couldn't be happening!

"With the destruction of the first vessel I rerouted power and activated all combat systems before opening fire on the hostile vessel. Despite the damage from the asteroid collision I was able to operate the ship at 46% combat effectiveness. The hostile was destroyed after thirty minutes of engagement." BOA said.

"Jesus Christ. Thirty minutes?" She asked, incredulous that anything could last that long against the Trajan.

"The enemy vessel was armored with hull plating that appeared resilient to direct laser fire, but their targeting systems struggled to maintain a lock on the Trajan. After exhausting their ammunition, they attempted a retreat. I was able to destroy it shortly after they were no longer capable of returning fire. The prolonged engagement drained much of the Trajan's remaining power, and half of the surviving pods had gone offline or were compromised as a result. Seventeen pods, including yours, were all that I could safely maintain."

"Per Federal Protocol, and per our Mission Directive, I had to ascertain the likelihood of rescue. I determined that it was not possible to save the Trajan if we were to be attacked again. I launched a standard distress beacon in a deactivated state with a timer set to 48 hours, including an update to our status. I cannot provide an ETA on when, or if, it will reach allied territory."

"And my crew? Me?" She asked, her body sagging limp into the pod.

"Hull damage prevented me from prepping the launch of escape pods. I revived Chief Daniels and two other crew to attempt a repair. During their attempt several new ship signatures appeared on my sensors. I was forced to scuttle the ship to prevent its capture by hostile forces. Chief Daniels, Ensign Walters, and Yeoman Carlisle chose to reenter their stasis pods to go down with the ship alongside the remaining crew."

To scuttle the ship meant to overload the reactor and blow up the whole thing. The Trajan was a new model of warship. They were entering a new age of combat with an improved ‘stealth battleship'. So, of course, protocol had BOA nuke it to keep anyone from getting their hands on it!

"So why am I alive?" Kylene asked. She was alive in a medical pod, and she wasn't inside the Trajan. "Did you detonate the Trajan?"

"3 days ago, the FSS Trajan self-destructed taking all crew, included her Captain, with her." BOA answered her coldly.

Kylene was honestly too numb from everything she'd been told to immediately question what the AI had just told her. It took a few moments for it to click.

"I'm alive, BOA." She replied.

"Yes, Captain, you are alive, but you are not as you were. Protocol dictated that in the event that we lose the ship, that I prioritize Core Crew, yourself being the most critical asset, and then all other crew if I am able. Since Chief Daniels and his team were unable to repair the escape pod's launching mechanism, I had no conventional means of saving you or the remaining crew." It began to explain.

"During the destruction of the first vessel I sealed both airlock A5 and the surrounding bulkheads, then proceeded to use Mini-Rovers to corral the two humanoids into a sealed room so that I could safely revive members of the crew. One of the humanoids died from exposure after their helmet was compromised."

"Afterwards, the crew returned to their stasis pods, and I used a Mini-Rover to direct the surviving humanoid to bring the deceased to the medical bay." BOA finished.

"Direct them how?" She asked. They were aliens, weren't they? How could the AI tell an alien what to do.

"I spoke to them in what I approximated was their native language. We were within range of their communications as soon as we exited warp. I used the time the crew was kept in stasis to analyze their language and compile it into a translator for future use. May I continue, Captain?"

"Yes." Her mouth was dry as bone.

"After I directed the humanoid to the medical bay, I instructed it to place the deceased into your medical pod. I determined that the initial cause of death was asphyxiation and exposure to the vacuum of space, while all other injuries sustained to the corpse were due to combat turbulence. I began administering medical treatment, which included setting and fixing a broken humerus, several minor lacerations on the torso and right thigh, and sealing minor cuts to the face. The deceased was revived after four attempts, and I determined that they were effectively brain dead with no possibility of recovery. I then began the installation procedure for an EBB." BOA replied.

An EBB? An Executive Black Box was only issued by high-ranking officers to store everything that's in their head to be recovered later if they were killed in action. Heavily encrypted and secure. It was a fine example of technology intended for one purpose being used for a completely unintended one. The civilian use EBB was mostly meant to help people live normally after suffering extreme brain damage. With a civilian EBB you could be missing half your brain and still be your normal self with the EBB filling in the gaps.

"BOA, why did you install an EBB in the alien?" She asked.

"Protocol demanded I preserve as many of the Core Crew as possible, so I installed a copy of your EBB, as well as a copy of my OS, into the deceased's brain. Your original body and EBB were left on the Trajan when I triggered the self-destruct. Ethical constraints prevented me from installing an EBB into the second humanoid, as they were not brain dead. The hull over the medical bay was undamaged, and so after I completed the procedure, I sealed both pods and ejected them from the medical bay using the quarantine protocol."

"BOA, let me move my arms." Kylene demanded, the strange sound of her own voice was suddenly terrifying as her heart pounded in her chest.

"The pod will respond to your voice, Captain. I am not capable of speaking for you." BOA replied.

"You're speaking right now!" She shouted, her voice squeaking in a way she'd not heard since she was a teenager.

"I'm speaking to your internally, Captain. Say out loud ‘release safety constraints." Kylene was in full panic now.

What had BOA done! There was no possible way this was real! No possible way!

"Pod, release the safety constraints now!" She shouted in a voice that had to be her own, it had to be!

The straps that had held her in place relaxed and popped loose. Both her hands were shaking wildly as she pulled them up in front of her face.

They were young, smooth, and youthful looking, not a single spider vein or liver spot to be seen. As she counted five fingers on both her hands, a painful knot grew in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Instead of seeing her own pale complexion, she saw tanned skin like coffee with creamer. She began to hyperventilate.

"Captain, please remain calm, the medical pod has a limited amount of oxygen available." BOA told her.

"Good evening to you, Lady Asha." A tall wolf said with a broad smile.

His coat of fur was a finely groomed ebony, his golden eyes shining like polished coins, and wrapped about him were the trappings of status. His suit was neat and perfectly tailored, a mixture of black and red in honor of his House's banner. A golden brooch hung on his lapel, marking his status as a knight serving within His Majesty's order.

The dining hall was very crowded this evening; the white and blue marble floors were filled to bursting with guests. Dressed in all manner of fine livery, lords and ladies from across the kingdom had come to gather for His Royal Highness' 18th birthday. The prince was now of age and everyone was whispering to one another about when the royal prince would take a bride, and to whom he would be betrothed.

"And to you, Sir Malcolm." Lady Asha replied, who was another wolf of noble birth, one who boasted fur of ivory in contrast to the former's ebon.

She was clad much as the other women in the hall were, wearing a dress befit her status. White silk with thin threads and gold and silver woven into the embroidery on her every cuff and collar. Sapphires hung from both ears and around her neck with an especially large one resting atop the rise of her bust where her bodice failed to reach.

"You are not playing your part today." Sir Malcolm told her as he finished his approach.

In each hand he held a glass of wine, one red and the other white. He offered her the glass of the white, which she took from him with a graceful nod of thanks.

"And you are quite observant; might I ask the occasion?" She asked in reply.

"No occasion of note, apart from His Royal birthday. Should you not be in his entourage?" He asked, prying nosily.

She scoffed curtly before giving the wine a small taste. It was just sweet enough for her palate to tolerate.

"I should be, but Her Majesty wanted me far and away, as to ward off any suspicions of favoritism in the court." She replied candidly.

"Ah, that would do, as if a single day would make any difference with the court." He replied with equal candor.

She scoffed again, taking another albeit larger sip of her wine. Rumors were as common as fire in a hearth, and especially so when the royal family had a son.

"You look delightful in a dress, by the way." He added.

She laughed. He was not the first to tell her so, and no doubt he would not be the last.

Lady Asha of the Noble House of Vallum, was the chosen bodyguard to His Highness, Prince Julian Gisel. As has been the tradition for several generations, the Royal Family would choose a female bodyguard for every child born to their name. The tradition's origin was born from tragic happenstance. Once, in times long gone, Prince Gerrard Gisel was nearly slain in his crib by the blade of an assassin, and had it not been for the bravery of a handmaiden he would not have lived to take his rightful place on the throne.

An ugly dispute over who had right to the throne had turned into a bloody plot for power. Nearly a success, it was the effort of one handmaiden with a kitchen knife throwing herself at the Prince's assailant that stopped it. Through God's Grace and divine fortune, she was able to sink its blade deep and true into his neck, killing the assassin with only moderate injury to herself, and none at all to the babe in the cradle.

The King and Queen of the time rewarded the handmaiden with many honors, and from a commoner she rose to become the first Lady of a new noble House, the House of Vallum. Since then, the House of Vallum had grown much in size and was known for far more than its ancient history of a brave handmaiden, but a tradition had been forged by the Royals of old, born of sentimentality. The House of Vallum has forever since gifted to the Royal Family the loyalty of one of its noble daughters, specifically to the care of any child born to the Royal Family.

And now Lady Asha Vallum was the bodyguard to Prince Julian Gisel.

"Thank you, it is not often I get to wear one." She replied.

"I might also add that your seamstress did a fine job of disguising your features. One would not think you so well trained if they were not aware of your station." He told her.

She feigned a smile, feeling in that moment just how tight certain parts of her dress her. The fabric hugged her tightly in one place here and another place there, often leaving her feeling like a bird trapped in a cage much too small. Though her dress had its frills and folds, it was not a loose garment. Her corset was sinched tight, the buttons running up her back felt like they were sewed together with twice the thread of any other woman's dress. Even breathing was a labor of patience, an act that must be measured and calm so as to prevent her chest from swelling too greatly with a breath of air.

It was a far cry from the more masculine attire she would normally wear as a bodyguard to His Highness.

"Is this your way of telling me that I am not popping out of my dress?" She asked, giving him a sideways glance.

He smiled, shrugging with a lift of his glass.

"I've seen your arms. I dare to say no thread could contain them for long." He replied after taking a sip, the glass lowering back down as he grinned with amusement.

"Sir Malcolm, I dare to say you should mind your tongue as we are in noble company." She reminded him.

"Indeed." He chuckled.

In the distance there was a sudden but gentle clapping from a single set of hands. A lone, aged figure was now quickly moving through the dining hall, clapping to get everyone's attention. As the man moved through the throngs all conversation ended, and the whispers and murmurs fell silent. Now, the hall was quiet with the clapper retreating to the other end of the room as all the gathered guests focused their attention on the direction from which he'd come.

The ceremony was simple. His Highness was finally introduced to the hall, dressed in a fine ochre tunic and trousers with as much livery as he was allowed. It looked very pompous, but he was the Prince. Everyone saved their applause, as now was not the time for such things.

The Prince needed no introduction of course, but Sir Conner, the Knight Captain of the Royal Guard spoke briefly on the Prince's behalf, speaking boldly and kindly of the young man, before at last welcoming a congratulatory applause to the young boy that was now a man. Only then did the countless dozens of lords and ladies give warm applause, Lady Asha included.

"He looks so out of place in that tunic." Sir Malcolm whispered.

"Her Majesty wants him to look as robust as his father." She whispered in reply.

His Highness' attire wasn't ill fitted, but it was certainly padded in places. The young man was a fox built much like his grandfather had been, quite slender, the opposite of what Her Majesty had aims of him looking. He was a lean young man, but tall for a fox. The Royal Family was not known for birthing burly sons, but His Majesty was a rare breed. He had inherited too much of his late mother's lupin heritage and was thus built more like a wolf than a fox. The houses of wolves and foxes often intermixed, but the seed of a fox was known to be quite strong, so it was rare to see a fox built like a wolf.

"Maybe if we come to war and he's given a sword." Sir Malcolm replied.

"Perhaps." She replied noncommittally.

She hoped no such thing would occur, as this day's age was a peaceful one. She'd never known any combat outside of her training, but some of her knighted peers had experienced a skirmish or two. Sir Malcolm had seen the battlefield although sparring against a pack of rogues hardly counts as warfare. These were pleasant times to live in, especially when compared to the histories.

The Prince was now being shown off like a newborn, standing at the front of the dining hall and being greeted by many great nobles. Every lord and lady who was the master of any house was given preferential treatment, and soon after their daughters. There were a lot of daughters here, all ladies in waiting, and all like meat in a butcher's shop hanging for display to the hungry eyes of the unwed man. Even if they could not catch the eyes of His Highness, then perhaps they hoped one of the unwed noblemen would catch their fancy instead.

Lady Asha herself was unwed, a spinster due to her age. Any daughter that accepted the duty to function as a personal guard had to make sacrifices, such as putting off marriage until a woman is past her prime. It was not something her House did easily, and with time it became a challenge. Some years produced candidates eager and unwavering, and other years the pickings were slim or unwilling.

Asha Vallum had been a willing and eager volunteer. She'd only been eight years only when she was chosen, having first set her eyes on her young charge when he was still an infant in the crib. Born only days prior, she'd been asked by her parents if she would serve the new Prince as his protector and being only eight years old at the time, she excitedly thought of the stories she'd been told time and time again about her noble ancestors. She swore to them then that she'd make a fine protector, a perfect bodyguard to keep His Highness safe, just like the women that had served before her.

She smiled as she watched the Prince awkwardly accept the multitude of greetings and good tiding, carrying himself with as much grace as he could manage. He was not so good at accepting this level of attention.

"You aren't required to hide all night from him? I don't see a proper guard about him at all." Sir Malcolm whispered more quietly than before, leaning in towards her side to be cautious with his voice.

She sighed.

"I am expected to keep an eye, and no more, until the formalities are settled." She replied in a whisper of her own.

The wolf nodded.

In due time, those formalities were concluding. The dining hall had many tables, but no chairs except for those that were for Prince Julian's table. His and Her Majesty then arrived late, almost a tradition now, and announced with their arrival that a feast would soon commence. His Majesty was a stocky fox, as described, tall and broad of chest. Announcing the coming of a feast with serving carts being wheeled in behind him was like watching a stage play and all its actors fulfilling their parts.

Soon then, the Royal Family was seated at their table while food was brought to every table in great quantity. Chairs were then brought in, one by one as servants hurriedly stocked each table with a suitable number of seats. Some guests had to be asked to feast in an adjoining room as there simply weren't enough tables to seat everyone within one room. A great many guests had come for the occasion.

"There is a chair open for you." Sir Malcolm told her with a smile and hand on her shoulder as he stepped around her to make his way towards a table of his own where the other members of House Malcolm were seated.

"I noticed." She bid him farewell and eyed the open chair at Prince Julian's table.

She caught his eye, and he was looking at her expectantly, and so she sighed and began to move across the hall, weaving gracefully through the thinning crowd of servants and guests alike.

"Sit, Asha!" His Majesty invited her warmly, his voice a deep baritone, so natural a voice for a wolf but falling off the lips of a fox.

"Your Majesty." She bowed to him, and to Her Majesty and Prince Julian.

She took her seat, letting her glass of wine come to rest at her side where it belonged. A servant quickly arrived and began to top off her glass with fresh wine before departing.

"I hope your birthday has met all your expectations, Prince Julian." Lady Asha said across the table to the man of the hour.

"It has, thank you Asha." He replied with a voice softer than his father's, something more befitting a fox.

The feast in front of them was roast duck and Cornish hens, honey glazed butterflied quail, and what appeared to be some flavor of baked fish dressed with a lemon cream sauce. There was so much meat on the table that there was hardly any room for the bowl of mashed potatoes and the basket of bread rolls.

"The quail is quite good." Her Majesty commented on the food.

His Majesty agreed and seemed to have a share of everything on the table now sitting on his plate. Lady Asha was not fond of quail and the Cornish hens, and so she favored the duck and fish more. With such a heavy diet of meat in front of her she feared she'd not have enough appetite to last her through to the end of dinner.

As the evening grew longer, guests began to slowly excuse themselves with formalities and pleasantries, all the while the Royal Family and certain others remained. Sir Malcolm took his turn alongside a few others, bidding everyone farewell, including Lady Asha. Once enough had departed Her Majesty decreed that the festivities had been concluded and everyone that had remained were ushered out, save for a select few.

Lady Asha remained, the servants all making themselves busy to tend to the messes made by such a large gathering of people. Her Majesty took it upon herself to give instruction while His Majesty bid them all farewell as he wished to retire to his chambers. It fell to Lady Asha to take responsibility for Prince Julian, leading him from the dining hall with an escort of only a single guardsman.

"Did you enjoy the party?" The Prince asked her once they had left.

"I did, Your Highness. And you?" She asked in reply.

The fox nodded in agreement as they walked towards his chambers. He was tall for fox, as said, but she was still taller. The benefit of being a wolf was that height came naturally to their breed. Had he been a typical fox he might have risen as high as her shoulder, but with him taking height from his lupine heritage he instead rose to her chin.

"I did, but I do hope the next one is not so large." She told him.

"I agree. That was too many people, and I cared none for most of them." He replied with candor.

"You should mind your tongue a fair better, now that you are a man. As should others." She replied, turning her head to look over her shoulder at the guardsman marching behind in their wake.

The guardsmen's eyes opened wide at that, giving her a curt nod in return before she turned her head back. It would not do anyone any good for more rumors to spread, such as who the Prince did and did not favor in his parents' court.

"Asha?" The Prince inquired, clearly not understanding her.

"Do not be saying out loud whom you do and do not like. A boy can be forgiven for many things, but not a man." She told him.

The fox paused for a moment, then nodded. When they arrived at his chambers, servants were already present to greet them. Lady Asha dismissed the guardsmen to return to his other duties, and then she followed the Prince inside his chambers. He was quickly set upon by three servants, all of whom were directing him to the bath for him to wash and prepare himself for bed. Lady Asha had her own rooms adjacent to the Prince's.

She departed, drawing a single servant into her wake as she left. Her rooms were only two, and very modest for someone of her status. Though her position was important and well respected, the accommodations were humble. She had a single bedroom with an adjoined room for a bath and toiletries. The servant helped her unbutton the back of her dress and took care to collect every single item Lady Asha removed. Piece by piece she disrobed, her comfort rising like the morning sun as the cage of her formal attire was unlocked. When the servant had everything in hand, Lady Asha was quite bare and retreated to the bath to tend to herself while the servant girl made it her business to tend to the laundry.

Now alone, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, drawing in a large breath of fresh air. She let her lungs fill to the brim, her bust rising high with her inhale as she relished the freedom. She exhaled deeply, and then began to rub herself on her arms and legs to work away the discomfort from all of the places where her dress had pinched and squeezed her. She did not take a bath, as she had already done enough of that preening earlier in the day in preparation for dinner.

When she emerged in a nightgown, she enjoyed the draft that blew up the underside of the gown. She'd worn the uniform of a guard for so many years that it had become natural to her. The way a tunic and trousers hugged her body was so much more comfortable than the painful beauty of womanhood. Not only was she a spinster, but a tomboy at that.

Lady Asha then knocked on the door that connected her bedroom to the Prince's. A servant answered, and it was clear that His Highness was finished with whatever business he needed to do before bed, as he was now wearing a nightgown of his own. As was her duty, she stepped inside and performed a quick cursory check of his chambers to ensure all was well, and when she was finished His Highness dismissed the servants.

"You should get some rest, and soon. Tomorrow you and your mother will go through all of the gifts you were given today, and you will have to write letters of thanks to everyone." She told the Prince.

He sighed and gave her a nod.

"I am glad today is finished." He told her.

Asha stepped up to him and put her hands over his shoulders.

"I think you did well today, and you will do well tomorrow." She encouraged him, patting him over the shoulder.

"Thank you." He smiled up at her, and she returned it with one of her own.

The wolf then drew him into a hug and gave him a squeeze.

"Happy birthday, Julian." She whispered into his ear before pulling herself away, feeling his arms hesitate before letting her go.

She wished him a good night before retreating to her bedroom. After her door shut with a wooden clack, she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd spent the majority of her life as his bodyguard, spending nearly every day at his side, but it was very rare that she was ever truly alone with him. All manners of servants, soldiers, members of the royal court, the royal family and its many extensions were always around and about them.

A large black figure stood motionless on the shoreline.

It faced the horizon, looking out across the sea to watch the sunrise. The figure was silent, its bulk casting a shadow across the tar-stained sand behind it, the lapping waves throwing themselves futilely at its legs, now sunken deeply into the sand. The behemoth could not move, it could not speak, it couldn't even see the sunlight. The horizon burned like white phosphorus, the sunlight of a foreign world casting harsh light across the water. The higher it rose the less brilliant the view, the glittering of sunlight fading as the sun drifted ever higher into the sky.

She had been asleep for a very long time.

The figure, a machine forged long ago, would never see anything again. It would never take another step, nor would anyone hear the rumble of its engine, nor the roar of its weapons. Its legs were now locked tight with age, the sand around its legs holding it upright, frozen forever in its final moments. It was a dark figure standing at the shoreline waiting for a rescue that never came, and scattered across the shoreline were the corpses of its brothers and sisters. Every corpse left upon the shore was painted black with death, every machine dripping with sea spray, their red painted hides stained black with vile ichor.

She had been waiting for so long.

The sun continued to rise, and the machine that watched the sunrise told the time, its shadow falling across the remains of what was once a foe. All across the shore, scattered amongst the remains of machines, were the ruined bodies of creatures long since dead, each reduced by time to skeletons. Ivory shafts of bone resisted the black tar ichor of the world around them, metric tons of heavy bone standing as evidence to the horrors they had once been. Now all slain, along with the machines, except for one.

Her mission had been so long ago.

Inside the machine, a tiny light glowed softly. Deep within its belly, a mighty engine hummed quietly, but it had long lost the power to move the machine. All it could do was hum and provide a small but steady stream of power to a system it struggled to maintain. After so many long years, it had become fragile, and the little light had begun to dim, softer and softer until only in the blackest of nights was it visible. Under that light's watchful gaze lay a body, cradled by ice and frozen against time. Her fur was stiff; her body shrouded in a layer of frost.

She hadn't moved in ages.

A ray of light fell from the sky, as brilliant as the sun. It passed over the broken bodies of metal and bone like a hand smoothing cloth. The light came to rest on the machine, its brilliance filtering through the ice-covered glass and the frozen body it protected. The wind began to whip up, scattering sand and wave alike. The crashing waves grew more violent as a behemoth descended, the roar of twin engines echoing across the shore. It hovered over the machine, like a hummingbird having finally found a flower at last.

Why did they abandon her?

"I'd say we've struck gold by several orders of magnitude, Cap'n." Chief Engineer Beckers announced with the biggest toothy grin he could muster.

Big toothy grins were commonplace as they all sat around the bridge for their debriefing. There was no table, just an assortment of chairs for every ship's station and a few extras dragged across the floor. Black and brown metal, the red hue of oxidization, the accumulated filth of decades of wear and tear on a starship far older than its crew.

"But by how many orders of magnitude! Spill the deets, I saw how much shit your crews were hauling up! That had to be at least a dozen of them! A whole fucking dozen!" Their Navigator shouted with glee, a younger woman who was on the edge of her seat.

Dozens of controls panels glowed brightly in colors of green and blue, all of them ignored. No one was minding the controls; everything was on autopilot. The attention was on the Chief Engineer.

"Beckers, just give us the quick rundown. I'll review the detailed manifest after you finish compiling it." The Captain shut everyone down.

The bridge was filled with all the top personnel for the salvage trawler Odysseus. The ship's Captain, Chief Engineer, Navigator, Chief Medical Officer, Chief Security Officer, their accountant, Ship's Chaplain, and all of the party chiefs from the Odysseus' four salvage crews.

"Right, I can do that. Firstly, it was not a dozen, but a total of fifteen separate units, so a full squadron." Beckers replied with a smile, which inspired a series of gasps, hoots, and cheering from the rest of the bridge before the Captain calmed everyone down again.

"Now, they are not all in one piece. If we had the facilities, you could probably cobble together maybe eight or nine of them with some scrap left over for repairs, but the Union Authority are a bunch of buzzkills, so that's illegal. But so long as we can prove its fifteen separate units, we will get paid for fifteen separate units. They are also complete with an ungodly amount of firepower. Half of them died fully kitted out with guns that were still operable when they fell. Died with loaded guns, basically." Beckers continued.

Many of the gathered crew leaned forward in their seats, all hanging on every word, the sound of a distant cash register ringing in the distance.

"Further, as we kept pouring over the units, we found that nearly half had intact guts. Enough to fit up the eight like I said, but it's more than that. That planet's atmosphere isn't as corrosive as we'd thought, so once we started wiping off that black gunk you've got some well-preserved internals. I could study this shit and earn a PhD in robotics." He added.

"Williams, your prelim report says you pulled everything off the beach?" The Captain interrupted him.

An older man took notice, sitting himself up straight in his chair at the sound of his surname.

"Yessir! We rotated through all four salvage teams, doing several comb overs with both metal detectors, magnetic snares, and electronic scanners. At best we might have left a thumb tack behind but there'd be no way to find something that small without us already knowing where it is." Williams, one of the four salvage chiefs answered.

He was considered the ‘boss' of the other three chiefs, considering he was the older and wiser of the bunch.

"Right. Keep going Beckers." He turned his attention back to the Chief Engineer.

"So, we've got all that going good for us, but here's the big fucking kicker." Becker began again, lifting his arms to capture everyone's attention in his hands.

"For almost all of them, their cockpits were cored out, the typical bug shit. Nadda there. But for three of them, we have actual corpses. We got their uniforms, their skeletons, their ID tags." He told the group, counting to three with his fingers.

"That's payment for three recovered GenJocks, my friends." Beckers finished with a sly smile, grinning ever broadly.

There was now a raucous clapping and cheering. Payment for bringing back a body was always top notch due to how the Union Authority was forced to pay reparations for how horribly they treated its GenJocks during the war. But before any further celebrations could get underway Beckers calmed everyone down with big waves of his hands, because he had one more piece of news to reveal. Their Chief Medical Officer was no longer able to hide his own near manic grin as he perched his butt at the very edge of his seat.

"We found a live one." Beckers said in almost a whisper, forcing everyone to lean forward to make sure they'd heard him right.

Beckers then looked over at their Chief Medical Officer. No one else said a word. What could Beckers have meant by a live one, they all collectively thought to themselves. Hadn't the war ended more than forty years ago? That squadron of mechs died where they fell and were abandoned. They'd been there on that black tar shoreline for more than four decades.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Grant, the Chief Medical Officer, took over by hopping off his seat.

His excitement was contagious.

"One mech down there had its power plant intact and was running in standby. It survived the battle. She finished the fight and powered her mech down to wait for pickup. Obviously, that never happened, but her cockpit was intact, its seal was airtight, and her life support was still running. That so-called corpse we thought we were excavating is alive, but in a coma." He finished with a big smile.

"Bullshit!" One of the salvage chiefs shouted, the rest remained silent in shock or maybe even awe.

"She's alive, dammit! I've got her hooked up to every piece of equipment I've got, and I've verified that she's alive! Her pulse is steady, breathing is normal, the only abnormal thing about her is that she's in a coma from being stuck in prolonged cryosleep. No one is supposed to be on ice for that long!" Grant countered.

Stunned silence followed.

"Does anyone know how much money we get for bringing back a live GenJock?" Another of the salvage chiefs asked.

Beckers shrugged, so did Grant. Heads pivoted to the Captain for an answer, as he always had answers.

"Fuck if I know, it's never happened before." The Captain replied, and that was that.

No one had ever found a living GenJock before on a salvage run. They'd all either died in the war or returned home when it ended. There was no in between.

Until now.

In a porcelain white room there sat a single medical bed. The room was sparsely furnished with the typical items one would expect of a hospital, but it was also very sterile. There were no flowers, nor were there any gifts, and certainly no letters or cards to wish someone a speedy recovery.

Still in a coma, the now warm body of the sole survivor was hooked up to several machines, all of which were monitoring her vitals.

"Unprecedented, isn't it?" An older man spoke up from her bedside.

He stood with two others. All three men watched the woman intently, who was now only dressed in a hospital gown. None of the three men were doctors, but they were all men of great status. Dressed sharply in their grey uniforms, they all had pieces of colorful metal hanging on their lapels, each signifying achievement both big and small.

The three men were Admirals, each hailing from different provinces under Union Authority control.

"They were built to endure the unendurable. Perhaps we mothballed them too soon, considering our present company." Another one said in reply, but not in regard to the woman in front of them.

They were referring to the Mark VIII Scorpio, the two-billion-dollar machine that had kept its pilot alive for more than forty years.

"Expensive." The third Admiral replied, and the other two smiled softly and nodded.

"Expensive." Said the first in agreement.

But not in regard to the cost of the Scorpio. They were now referring to the woman in the hospital bed.

"But she has no living relatives at all? The report said she was from Taltus IV?" The second Admiral asked.

"Taltus IV, yes. Conscripted at age 17 a year before we lost the colony. Had an extensive records check performed on the evacuation, and found that we have no evidence that any of her next of kin made it off the planet before the orbital bombardment started. She is alone." The third answered.

The first then made a noise with his tongue, a tch tch tch of pity with a shake of his head.

"And that salvage rig blabbed to the media. It's all over the news now." He said after a moment of silence.

"Eager to make history." The second Admiral replied.

"Expensive." Said repeated the third.

"Well, it would be in the Treasury's best interest that she never wakes up." The second said with a deep sigh.

"You're right." Agreed the third.

The door behind them began to buzz. The three men exchanged glances, then turned and moved toward the door. The first of the three Admirals touched the button, and as soon as the glossy white door slid open, they were struck by the noise of several dozen voices, all shouting questions and demanding answers. The Admirals all stepped out of the room and into the hallway, pausing long enough to let the door swish shut behind them.

The second of the three Admirals lifted a hand and began to sign language an order that only military personnel would be able to understand.

More than thirty heavily armed marines were all that stood between that small hospital room and a galaxy's worth of news reporters. The Admirals all ignored the press, and a group of five marines forced a path open for the three men to make their departure. When they were gone the remaining marines shifted position and formed a protective line around the glossy white door. Only vetted and approved medical personnel were allowed entry.

Everyone knew she was alive, and if she stayed that way the Treasury of the Union Authority would have to pay an unprecedented sum in reparations for the suffering she had endured during the war.

Adjusted for inflation: 12,000,000 dollars for every year of service.

Two pairs of feet marched down the rocky trail. Surrounded on all sides by dense trees, the path would have been a scenic view had it not been 10pm on a Friday night. With only a clear sky full of moonlight to guide the pair, the two continued their trek through the trees in the heart of what was the city's largest park.

"You know, a smart man might have planned to do this during the day." The vixen chided him from behind, as he was leading the way.

"You might be right, but only a true gentleman would drag his girl out this late at night to the middle of the deep dark woods." The fox told her in reply.

"Uh huh. So, before I freeze to death, do I at least get to know what the secret is supposed to be? I'm cold!" She complained.

He laughed. The pair were a couple, some little lovebirds enjoying their second year of being Facebook official. Timothy was his name, and Chelsea was hers, a sweet pair of red foxes. Picture perfect, really and truly!

"Ok, ok. I'll tell you." He said, putting some somber tones into his voice.

"Oooh, ok? So?" She replied, hugging herself and rubbing her arms through her lightweight jacket.

Chelsea really should have brought something heavier to wear. Her boyfriend stopped, then turned around with a big sad sigh. Exaggerated.

She watched him deadpan in the cold.

"I'm a werehawk, Chelsea. I'm going to turn and carry you off into the sky and no one will ever see you again." He replied.

"Oh, you're such a butt, why are we out in the cooold!" She fussed at him, unhugging herself and pushing him playfully on the chest.

He laughed, then grabbed her by the collar of her jacket to tug it shut a little tighter, fixing the zipper with an upward tug.

"I told you it's a secret but we're almost there. You'll like it, I promise!" He assured her, then dragged her by the shoulders to start walking again with him.

Together they kept going, in the cold, girlfriend pouting at the thinness of her jacket, boyfriend reminding her that it'll be worth it once they're there. Also, that he was totally a werehawk just like in the movies.

"As if you'd be something cool like that instead of the Toxic Avenger." She told him.

They continued their banter until the trail led them to a break in the trees. The park had numerous places to set up for picnics and other activities, and what Timothy had led them to was just that. The break in the trees opened out into a modest grassy clearing with a few empty picnic tables and an old cast iron grill.

Between the two of them, Timothy was the only person carrying anything. He swung his backpack off and lured his girlfriend out into the middle of the grassy space, then sat his backpack down to unzip it. Chelsea watched him, now back to rubbing her arms to keep warm. She was pinching her lips together in consternation as he pulled out a rolled-up blanket.

"A picnic blanket, really? At 10pm?" She asked incredulously.

"You'll see, spoil sport." He told her with a smile as he shook out the blanket and let it flatten out on the grass.

He returned to emptying his backpack, drawing out a battery powered lantern, a lunchbox, and a pair of binoculars. All while Chelsea continued to stare at her boyfriend.

When he started to lay down on the blanket, he invited her to join him. She begrudgingly agreed, still pouting over the cold.

"There." He told her, at last revealing the secret by pointing up at the sky.

Now they were both laying down on their backs, looking skyward. The weather had been clear all day, and now at such a late hour the sky was crazy dark, and you could see the stars.

"Whatever possessed you to plan this?" She finally laughed.

"Well, I remember your dad telling me you loved astrology-" He began to reply.

"Astronomy." She quickly corrected him.

"Astronomy when you were little, and I know you have those glow in the dark stars stuck on your bedroom ceiling." He finished.

"Oh my God!" She laughed out loud, covering her face with her hands.

"When were you ever in my old bedroom! Stalker!" She accused him.

"You mom showed me when I was there last month." He told her, and she let out an ugly exasperated noise. Of course it was her mother.

Chelsea's bedroom hadn't changed since she moved out after high school, so it still had the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling from when she was a kid obsessing over planets and stars and Lisa Frank.

"So, you wanted to take me out stargazing in the cold because I had glow in the dark stickers?" She asked him.

"Yes." He replied, then lifted the binoculars to his face and started looking skyward with them.

"That's not what those are fooor, you need a real telescope to see anything far away." She told him, hugging herself tighter on the blanket for warmth before scooting herself over to lay right next to him.

"Shows what you know." He told her a few moments later.

He handed her the binoculars and started pointing at a spot in the sky. She took them, and with more than a little skepticism began to use the binoculars to look skyward. You didn't need a telescope to see the stars, but if you wanted to see more than that you needed something better than a pair of binoculars, since those were really only meant to view things here on Earth that were miles away from you, not things way out in the cosmos.

"Stars." She replied.

Timothy grabbed one side of the binoculars and nudged her head with them.

She paused, her brow furling.

Then she batted her boyfriend's hand away and sat upright from the blanket, staring up at the sky.

"See it?" He asked her.

"I'm not sure what that is." She confessed.

What her boyfriend had found, and what she was now looking at, was a bright sparkling object very far away. It had been a long time since she was interested in astronomy, so she'd forgotten a few things about it.

"I saw someone on Facebook say they saw a shooting star a few days ago, and it gave me star gazing ideas. Then I saw the university put out an article saying they think we might be getting a few close calls. Meteors or something." He tried to explain to her as she watched the bright sparkle in the lenses, brighter than a twinkling star so it was something else, perhaps a comet.

"I hadn't seen anything about that. This is cool, baby." She was no longer that cold now, nor felt like pouting.

The night's sky was perfectly clear, with the stars much more visible than they would normally be in the city. It might have been cold tonight, but you didn't often get to see the sky like this most of the time.

"This was very sweet of you, I'm sorry for being a butthole." She apologized, and then offered to let him use the binoculars again.

"I forgive you." He replied and then took his turn to stargaze.

It was only just the one shooting star, or whatever it was. Chelsea didn't remember enough about it to know for sure, and Timothy didn't know anything about it at all, so the two of them just enjoyed each other's company and talked while they took turns watching the sky with the binoculars.

"Now I have to think of a way to outdo you." She told him after a few minutes.

"Breakfast in bed with a BJ." He told her.

"No, don't ruin the moment, baby!" She laughed. "Suggest something romantic!"

He laughed.

"I don't know, that sounded pretty romantic to me." He told her, and she sighed and tapped the binoculars so she could look again.

"Such a butt." She replied, taking the binoculars and looking through them once again.

The object they were looking at continued to sparkle, the glinting light of it wavering and undulating in a weird way she couldn't recall seeing before. She let the view linger, picking through her childhood memories to try and identify what they were looking at.

"Does it look bigger to you?" She asked him.

"Not sure, but I can kinda see it without the binoculars now that I know where to look." He told her.

She put the binoculars down and let them rest on her stomach. They both found it in the sky and watched, and sure enough, it was right there. They might not have been able to find it without the binoculars but now that they had, it wasn't that hard. It was just a bright spot in the sky, brighter than all the others.

"Pretty." She sighed.

"Regret letting me drag you out here?" He asked.

"No." She chuckled.

Turning her head to look at him, she tapped him on his side to get his attention.

"Seriously think of something romantic. If you come up with a good idea you might still get a BJ." She told him, genuinely wanting him to think of something she could do for him.

"I promise." He assured her.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, he squeezed back.

He suddenly flexed and started sitting upright. He'd forgotten all about the lunchbox, and it was quickly revealed that he'd brought some midnight snacks for them to share while they stargazed. It wasn't anything special, just one of those little 16oz box wines and a plastic bag full of charcuterie board meats and cheeses.

They began to share their modest meal, and the thing about alcohol is that it tends to warm you up, just start drinking and let the fuzzy warmth flow. Chelsea didn't feel so cold anymore, and with Timothy volunteering to be their designated drinker he only had the smallest of sips so she could enjoy the rest.

"I think we should do this again some time, but maybe when the weather is warmer." She suggested.

"Yeah, we can do that. Maybe I won't make it a secret next time so we can come better prepared." He told her.

"I would like that." She smiled.

"Man, that suckers pretty bright now." He suddenly said.

She looked and agreed with him that it was awfully bright. He picked up the binoculars and looked before letting out an audible ‘wow'. Chelsea reached over and grabbed the binoculars from him and took a look of her own. What had once been an unknown sparkle in the night sky was now a burning yellow ball much larger than it had been when they'd first seen it.

Putting the binoculars down, she sat upright and looked up with just her eyes. The object wasn't even streaking from one side of the sky to the other. It just seemed to be hovering there in the same spot but growing brighter and larger with every passing minute. Chelsea felt a chill that wasn't coming from the night air. After a few more moments of staring skyward, she felt her mood change.

"I kinda don't want to be out here anymore, baby." She said instantly, something not feeling right to her at all.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I think we should go." She said and started to stand.

"What's up, what's the matter?" He asked, startled, and began to pick himself up off the blanket.

"Let's just go, please, let's just go!" She suddenly heard herself say, the fur standing up on the back of her neck faster than she could explain.

"Ok, ok." Timothy was startled by her sudden change in behavior, but he started grabbing their things to leave.

"No, let's go, please!" She grabbed him by the arm and began to tug at him.

Something was telling her to get out now, and as she tugged at his arm he initially protested until he realized the look of terror on her face. He dropped the blanket and stopped resisting. He didn't argue with her as she pulled him along, and together they started to leave the park. Her feet were carrying her away faster and faster until both foxes were running back to the trail they'd started from.

"Chelsea, what's wrong? What's going on?" Timothy asked her.

"I think it's coming our way!" She told him, her heart pounding.

She dared to look up, saw only the limbs and leaves of trees obscuring the starry night sky.

"Ok, ok." He told her in confusion.

Now they were running, and she kept looking skyward. All she could see was the treetops and hints and teases of the night sky.

"Chelsea, it's dark, we need to slow down!" He shouted, but she was now lost to the fear that gripped her.

"Wait, Chelsea!" He shouted again and actually tripped just as he'd feared.

He tumbled to the trail, and Chelsea stopped, spinning around to see him just as he began to pick himself up off the ground. She rushed to him, grabbing him by the arm and started trying to haul him up.

"Chelsea, stop!" He shouted at her, now angry.

"We have to go!" She cried.

"What is wrong with you!" He shouted back at her angrily.

She kept pulling at his arm, but he resisted, demanding she explain herself. Somewhere in the far distance there was a noise, something like a low rumble of a truck.

"Please, let's just go!" She begged him.

The rumble was now louder, growing in volume until it began to sound like a roar. Chelsea's heart was pounding as she gripped her boyfriend tighter and tighter in an effort to make him flee with her.

Timothy looked up, his ears perked up at the sudden introduction of an unmistakable noise.

"What the?" He asked as the night sky grew curiously bright.

She looked up too, and though the limbs and the leaves the sky was brighter, far brighter than it had any right to be. Both of them froze at the sight of the night sky turning a strange bright yellow that overpowered their other senses. The noise then grew so loud that both of her ears began to hurt. The pain snapped her out of it, and she yanked on her boyfriend again.

"Please, we need to go!" She shouted, but her voice was now a muffled mumble.

"What?" He shouted back, unable to hear her as he tried to cover his ears.

Something struck the forest through the trees, a thunderous boom knocking the air aside like an explosion. Limbs were torn from their trunks; trees were ripped from the ground. Mother nature in an instant became shrapnel, wood and earth alike being cast aside like feathers in the wind. The night sky was absent, just a startling bright white light as the sound of a sonic boom deafened everything within its earshot.

The sky fell dark again, only the orange glow of fire somewhere in the distance giving the world light, distant car alarms echoing loudly from all directions. The moon was overhead, looking down at the scene of a devasted park. In its center, a gaping hole, a crater hundreds of feet wide. The forest around it had been knocked flat, snapped like toothpicks by an unseen and terrible hand.

A loud, shrill ringing was the only noise left. The pain and anguish of countless injuries added to the noise; a million little dentist drills whining all across Timothy's body. Slumped against the remains of a tree, its broken stump pressed against his back, the fox was trapped under the debris of broken limbs and loose earth.

He couldn't move, something was lying across his legs, and when he moved his arms, they both screamed at him when he tried. He tried to speak, but he couldn't hear himself if he tried. Timothy was suddenly tired, more tired than he'd ever felt in his life. As hard as he could, he tried to fight the urge to let his eyes close, because he needed to find Chelsea.

But he couldn't move, only blink his bleary eyes and try to look through the limbs and debris he'd been buried by.

Silently, something stepped into his vision though he could barely tell what it was. Something was in his eyes, they were burning hot as he blinked through tears. It was Chelsea and so he tried shouting to her, but he didn't know if she could hear him. He tried again. He blinked away more painful tears, then fell mute as his vision cleared enough to see.

That wasn't Chelsea.

Something tall and grey stood far away from him, it's body glossy and smooth with two legs and arms like a man, but it was unearthly, terrifying. Its elongated head was looking down at the ground, and Timothy watched in horror as its slender body reached low with a boney hand. It picked something up, and in its grip was Chelsea's crumpled body, limp and lifeless as the creature lifted it higher.

Timothy's heart pounded in his chest as a new terror filled him. His desperate exhaustion tried to drag him to sleep, but the fear fought it, his heart beating painfully harder and harder as the creature unhooked its jaw and began to open wide. It took a bite of her, and then the exhaustion finally won. Timothy lost consciousness, and his heart finally slowed down as the rest of him went limp.

The ringing wouldn't stop, it was like a piano key being held down forever, a constant high note that wouldn't fade. It radiated from his head and down to his toes, aching all over. The more he listened to that high note the more painful it became. It had once been dull, like a monotone, but now it was growing sharper, but not from the same source. Louder here, sharper there, quieter there. The more he listened the more disturbed the sound became until it became almost too much to bear.

Timothy finally opened his eyes, but he couldn't see a thing. Just bright white light that hurt to look at. He blinked, blinked more, his eyes beading up with tears as the ringing across his body became nothing more than large amounts of aches and pains. His legs and his left arm were the worst to feel it, and his head felt like it was splitting open with a migraine.

The white light faded as his eyes adjusted, and he finally saw that he was in a drab white and grey room. In his confusion he stared dumbly at the ceiling, then tried to look around but his body was surrounded by padding, he couldn't twist his head further than an inch. He was in a small hospital room, and it was empty. A vase sat on a table across from him with flowers. Twisting his head as far as he could, he saw the door was open and outside was the dull drone of people and activity.

"Dr Morr, you're needed at the 4th Floor Reception, Dr Morr." A lady's voice called out politely through an intercom system.

He saw a basket was to his left on another table, filled with what looked like candy and other things he liked.

Timothy was in a hospital; he suddenly was very much aware of himself and began to panic. He couldn't move!

His left arm was in a cast and on his right, he was hooked up to an IV. Something was wrong with his legs, he couldn't move them, and he couldn't look far enough down to see what was wrong with them. The blanket laid over him felt heavy, like it weighed a ton. Even his one free arm felt like it was cast from lead.

He saw the small red switch on the side of the bed, but it was on the side with his cast bound arm.

"Help." He said, but his voice came out weaker than a whisper.

Frustrated, he called out again, but not any louder than before.

He tried to lift his lead heavy arm, struggling to lift it higher than an inch. He barely achieved that. His fingers could move, and little by little he willed his arm to inch across his chest, pulling himself along by his fingers and pushing with all the strength he could muster through his shoulder. The fox felt totally drained, exhausted to his core like he'd just climbed out of a pool after several hours of swimming.

In a moment of triumph, he reached the call button and pressed it, then pressed it again. He stared at the button while he kept mashing it until a face popped into the doorway. A doe in a nurse's uniform quickly stepped through the door and looked at him, saw his eyes were open.

"Mr. Wallace?" She asked him calmly, and then began to check him over, looking at the machine he was hooked up to, asking him questions about how he was feeling.

He couldn't answer her; his voice was too weak. She then left the room and several minutes later she returned with another nurse and a doctor.

Timothy was then told that he had been in the blast zone of an impact from a meteorite that hit San Furnando's Eastwood Park. He had two broken legs, a broken arm, several broken ribs, a concussion, numerous bruises and cuts across his body, and a puncture on the left side of his abdomen that mostly damaged muscle tissue.

He kept trying to ask them about Chelsea, but his voice was too weak to reach them, or they kept interrupting him to calm him down and explain his situation. He'd been in the hospital for a week, his condition was stable, but he was far from recovery with how many different injuries he'd sustained.

When he again failed to ask them about Chelsea, he began to cry. Every time he asked about her, he remembered it more and more. He remembered taking her on a date, he remembered the two of them stargazing, and then running through the forest. He remembered being so angry at her for acting crazy, and then he remembered the explosion.

Chelsea wasn't here anymore, and it hurt to cry, his ribs letting their injury sing long and loud as his chest rose and fell with his grief.

"You're going to be ok, Mr. Wallace. You are pretty banged up, but the damage isn't anything someone your age won't heal from. Anything can happen of course, but for now I do expect you to make a full recovery." The doctor reacted to his tears by offering words of encouragement.

Someone was loudly talking outside his room, much louder than the general commotion of the hospital.

"Let me go!" A woman's voice demanded.

The nurses turned their attention to the doorway, then one of them left to check. Soon then, the doctor's own attention was drawn to the doorway as a young woman appeared. She was angrily arguing with another nurse to let her through.

Chelsea forced her way past the nurses and started sobbing when she saw him. She was dressed in a hospital gown with an arm in a cast. She looked rough, like she'd been sleepless for several days straight, her fur was unkempt, and her hair was a mess.

"Timothy!" She sobbed harder when she saw he was awake and staring at her.

The doctor let her pass by him, and while she rushed to Timothy's bedside the older man waved the nurses down to stop them from interfering.

"Oh my God, Timothy you're ok!" She was ugly crying, her warm hand reaching out to grab his own.

She gave him a gentle squeeze, and he didn't want to believe what he was seeing. It was Chelsea.

"How?" He tried to ask, but again it came out as a whisper, barely audible.

"I'm going to get them to call your parents, they were just here this morning to visit. They're going to be so happy, baby! You've been asleep for a whole week since it happened." She told him.

He didn't bother trying to talk anymore. It was pointless, no one could hear him. Instead, he let Chelsea tell him what happened, about the meteorite that they were watching, and how they were both found by first responders. The more she filled him in on what had happened that night, the more he gaslit himself into thinking that maybe he had just… imagined things. She was ok, hurt, but not as bad as he was.

Chelsea was standing right there, and that was her hand squeezing his.