Untold Stories of a Galaxy - Kysaek: The Beginning
Triumph - 1

The victory over PGI and Trident Three was a huge earthquake that rippled through the entire galaxy just one day later. There was no need to mention the political aspect, as all the major powers wanted clarification and answers from those involved in the battle. Although the Consulate had provided the force and was the point of contact for many, the Council of 13 had only made rough statements and arranged for the deserving crew of the Nebula, some of whom had been involved from the beginning, to clarify all the events in detail and finally redeem themselves in the process. To this end, the ship was currently on its way to Central in the IPF, accompanied by a small escort from the consulate and only a few minutes away from its destination. The threat of PGI was seemingly averted, but with the junta’s intervention in the battle and the mystery surrounding Operation Solaris Downfall, the Consulate and the Nebula crew wanted to play it safe. A guard of honour was their excuse for publicity.

Precaution was also Re’Li’s request, who was operating a therapeutic medium pollinator, TMB for short. It was used for healing, hung from a ceiling rack and resembled a camera, emitting a meadow green, cone-shaped beam of light. “I’m almost done,” said the Galig, initiating the TMB’s precision mode. Within the actual light, which had a healing effect on a burnt area of skin, three very thin, finer lasers now began to dance at the edges of the leathery skin.

“It doesn’t have to be pretty,” Kysaek murmured somewhat painfully, sitting on a hospital bed. This treatment wasn’t entirely pleasant for her, but it was more of a tug and was bearable. “It’s good enough for me.”

“After all that, you’re not going to chicken out of this little treatment, are you?” Re’Lis tried to cheer her patient up and continued undeterred.

“Not that,” said Kysaek, narrowing her eyes at the last trajectories of the lasers before the TMB was switched off and she was through. “But I’ve more than maxed out my pain tolerance for quite a while, or how do you see it, Doctor Askar?”

“From my medical point of view, you passed that point months ago,” said Galig, deactivating the TMB completely and pulling it up to the ceiling. “But your perseverance has paid off, which is why I’m ordering strict rest for the next week: No daring combat missions, no complicated plans, in short - no stress.”

“Can I have that in writing?” Kysaek grinned. Her and the general mood was relaxed, even if there was no big celebration at the moment. Everyone was just glad it was over, like Kysaek, who pushed herself off the bed. Her destination was one of the holoscreens, where she could call up a live image of her face, like a mirror. “And that’s definitely an improvement on before.” After her praise, she ran her hand carefully over her left cheek. The missile had given her a good burn, and the repeated TMB treatment had repaired the damage properly. The most scarred skin was on the left side of Kysaek’s neck and almost all over her neck. Up towards the cheek, the misshapen ripple pattern, between the healed and scorched skin, was limited more to the back of the jaw and barely to the cheek. Only towards the ear and the outer edges of the left eye did this sign of battle spread out again, as if it were trying to enclose Kysaek’s eye with barely visible fangs.

“A few days of treatment and it will heal well,” Re’Lis nodded with conviction. She turned away from the bedside and picked up a mortar and pestle from the nearest wall table, full of medical instruments. From the cupboard at her eye level, she grabbed some sealed sachets and metal cups and began to mix something together in the mortar and then pound it with the pestle. “Medication would be a solution to the recurring pain, but I’d rather rely on a Galig prescription, because when it comes to skin, we know our stuff.”

“Does that also work on humans?”

“If you only knew what kind of business the human beauty industry does with Galig,” laughed the doctor happily, completely in her element and still imparting her knowledge. “So I can say, yes, it works more than well on humans.”

“And will the scar stay?” Kysaek asked, although she wasn’t worried or disgusted. It was more a question of habit, as anyone would and as was expected. “So, can you remove them?”

“Not right away, no. It needs to heal more, but in a few weeks I can make the wound go away.”

Kysaek switched off the live image. “Mhh, I’ll think about it.”

“You might want to keep it?”

“I don’t think so,” Kysaek said thoughtfully, feeling carefully for the freshly treated wound. Like everything she had experienced, it was now not only a part of her, but could also be seen by anyone. “Maybe I’m just talking a lot of rubbish. There’s so much going through my head now that everything with PGI is finally over.”

“Well, you’ve always talked a lot,” Re’Lis said casually, reaching for a purple officer’s jacket. “So I take that as a healthy sign.”

“I didn’t realise you could be teasing, Doctor Askar,” Kysaek lifted the corners of her mouth. She was handed the jacket, which was lined with yellow and gold thread, and slipped gently into the fine piece, her muscles aching subtly. It was the new colours of the Nebula crew, which Kysaek put on very neatly in the old military manner and smoothed out every crease in the synthetic material, no matter how small. “On the other hand, I’ll take that as a sign. Now that PGI is done, you’re really breathing a sigh of relief, aren’t you?”

“You know, not really,” Re’Lis replied unconcernedly and crossed her arms. She matter-of-factly revealed a startling detail. “I’ve never been on the bounty lists and Dorvan told me earlier that my name doesn’t appear in a single PGI file.”

“You’re pulling my leg now, aren’t you? Why would that be?”

“That’s beyond my knowledge. You and Thais were high priced and Dios and Kuren were at least a nice bonus. Even Tavis and Vorrn came in later, but I was apparently like a shadow. Inconspicuous, in the background or PGI respected my vocation as a doctor too much.”

“I’d rather bet on inconspicuous,” Kysaek raised her finger. “Or PGI wasn’t able to see your fabulous talents. The judgement of this company is truly abysmal.”

The Galig had to laugh briefly, but she was grateful for the praise. “It will be, otherwise the company wouldn’t be finished now.”

Kysaek’s eyes dipped to the left for a moment as she made the final adjustments to her jacket. She scrutinised the thumb-sized, rounded, metal symbol emblazoned on the left side of her chest.

It consisted of four wavy lines that overlapped as a double pack from each side, each consisting of a silver-plated and gold-plated wave. These lines were intended to symbolise cosmic nebulae, but also the unity and diversity of the crew, while a frontal cross-section of the Nebula, also gilded, was enthroned above the waves. This symbol and the colour purple were what the crew had agreed on before the battle and that, if this important mission was to be a success, the galaxy should know the colours and symbols of the Nebula, detached from everything that still reminded them of the Consulate. A free ship that owed obedience to no one.

Re’Lis waited and let her patient sink into thought for a moment before she picked up an empty injector and enquired. “Would you like another little energy boost or can you manage the meeting without one?”

“It won’t take long and therefore isn’t necessary, Doctor,” Kysaek said, raising her eyes in pride. “But thank you for asking and for your excellent work, no matter what you decide.”

There was no verbal response from Re’Lis. She merely bowed her head politely and turned her attention to tidying up her workstation, which also provided a suitable opportunity for reflection.

Kysaek left the doctor to her silent routine and left the infirmary, with the hangar as her new destination and her own thoughts. During the treatment, the topic of whereabouts had come up, not just for the Galig, but for the entire crew: one ship, one colour, one symbol, one great victory. It was a nice list, but with the defeat of PGI, the question of purpose on board was justified, as Kysaek found, because obeying no one had a downside. She had fewer concerns about the former consulate soldiers, but what would those who had been there before think? Vorrn, Wolfgang, Thais and the rest? Her goals had been achieved and Kysaek suspected that some might part ways here, but that was fine with her. The first thing to do now was to put the political spectacle behind them and officially rehabilitate themselves.

As soon as the lift to the main level had opened, however, there was another encounter. “Nice to see you back on your feet,” greeted Tavis, who was leaning against the corridor wall. “That’s what the humans say, isn’t it?”

“Is that really just a human saying?” Kysaek raised her shoulders. It seemed questionable to her. “Many life forms have legs.”

“Palanians tend to: Your shell looks tight.”

“Well, that’s what I call culturally appropriate. Your shell looks tight.”

Mischievously, Tavis raised his right claw in caution. “That’s what they say when you’re trying to woo a Palanian, by the way. It’s even considered an extremely brash way of expressing interest.”

“Of course you do,” Kysaek shook her head in amusement. That alone told her that the rogue was more than fine. “Did you wait here to tell me that? Or do you want to come with me?”

“Spirits, just don’t,” Tavis denied sternly but formally. “Just think what people will say if Tavis Ciran turns out to be a hero and saviour who gets mixed up with politicians.”

“Are we talking about the drunken wretches on Themis and every dark corner of the galaxy?”

“Who else?” laughed the honest thug in a relaxed manner. He wasn’t being too serious, but in essence it was a fact for him. “Bringing down PGI will earn me a lot of respect, from friend and foe .... oh I don’t want to know how many enemies I’ve made. But if I venture too far into the limelight, even my worst enemy won’t do business with me and people will start laughing at me.”

“I didn’t expect that to bother you so much,” Kysaek admitted, moving her arms and shoulders again and again. Standing in place too much was not good for her right now. “We here respect you. Doesn’t that count anymore?”

“Oh, a very mean question ... How could I say no? Seriously, I have to wait and see what changes the whole thing brings and I’d rather do it from the second row. I hope you understand that.”

“My plans are similar, so yes. For now, I’ll wait and enjoy the peace and quiet,” replied Kysaek. Whether that meant that the Palanian was leaving the ship was an open question and she didn’t want to ask him about it.

“Good idea. Shady spots are never a bad idea, or a gamma in the mess hall, which I’m going to get now.”

“Have a drink for me. I’ll see you later,” Kysaek said goodbye and walked on. A Bolt Dropper was already waiting in the barely occupied hangar, just like Thais and Vorrn, but she was surprised by the Hishek’s presence. Thais was the only one who wanted to accompany her to the Spectrum meeting. “Vorrn, you don’t want to come along to this diplomatic spectacle, do you?”

The Hishek moved slowly and every step sounded heavy, even deliberately emphasised. Apart from his low, throaty growl, nothing came from him as he swished his tail, ignoring almost any distance to Kysaek, his muzzle so close to her face that he could have kissed her. Instead, the lizard’s nostrils flared and he sniffed, especially fixated on the fresh scar.

“I don’t know if I can take any more love,” Kysaek said uncertainly and embarrassed. Then she gently pushed Hishek’s muzzle a little away from her and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thais grinning quietly and amused by the whole thing. “Although I do appreciate your interest.”

“The scar makes you less ugly, but not more attractive,” Vorrn clarified, taking a few steps back of his own accord. The throaty vibration of his vocal chords did not stop, but he spoke in a rarely decent tone. At least by his standards. “And my interest is still limited, but let me tell you that I have your energy and skills in mind and recognise them.”

“Well, thank you, I guess?”

“The fight was thanks enough,” Vorrn growled with satisfaction. “A fight worth fighting, and because of you, I was able to be a part of it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kysaek said, although she was a little surprised. “And yet, thanks are in order. I heard you picked me up and rescued me.”

“And why not? When death thinks it has an easy game, it’s all the more delicious to deny it a victory ... at least for the moment.”

Kysaek couldn’t believe her ears. “What was that? Didn’t you once tell me you wouldn’t even piss on me or the others if we were on fire?”

“Out of your own stupidity. Yes, those were my words. I have a good memory,” Vorrn assured him with a quiver of his nostrils, his teeth forming a rather creepy grin. “But if you consider this decisive battle and your defiance of the enemy as the covering tail light of our ranks to be stupid, you’re still a little ignorant.”

“Maybe I’m just too stunned by your words right now and need to get my head around it all.”

“Many things are possible in this universe,” Vorrn agreed. He adjusted his jaw back and forth and turned his attention to the departure-ready transporter. “Time will tell if you understand or if this rescue was wrong. But first, let’s get this tiresome act of forgiveness on Central over with.”

“So you really are coming with us,” Kysaek replied, walking alongside the lizard. “But hold your nose. The members of the Spectrum are certainly not used to such close contact.”

“That’s unlikely to happen,” Thais commented delightedly, clinging to the side of the Bolt Dropper, which she heaved herself into with unnecessary vigour. “With this gesture Hishek are either showing genuine curiosity, great respect or picking up the scent of their most respected enemies as a warning.”

Vorrn’s vocal chords vibrated again when the Talin mentioned this fact, but the lizard entered the Bolt Dropper without a word.

He and she were a long way from being enemies, Kysaek was sure of that at the moment. The respect thing wasn’t quite firm either, but curiosity seemed appropriate, given that the Hishek had spoken of having an eye and recognition. All in all, she felt it was a win-win situation and let the issue rest. “Why do you actually want to put yourself through this annoying act?”

“Fun,” claimed Vorrn.

“Fun? I’m probably missing out on the fun, unless you’re shooting your way through a horde of guards.”

“We can’t get in there armed anyway, and yet,” Vorrn lifted his chin and his mouth pulled back into a grin. “I’ve always wanted to meet the big powers that be and see in their eyes if they’re uncomfortable around me or if they’ve ever been confronted with reality.”

“So you’re simply trying to scare them?” asked Kysaek. Judging by what the Hishek had done so far, this claim seemed like an attempt to make fun of her. “Isn’t it beneath you to look for strong enemies?”

“Hehehe, what better enemies could there be than the most powerful politicians in the galaxy?”

“... ... Just not.”

“Gotcha!” Vorrn clicked his tongue. It was still hard to tell whether he was really joking. “Don’t worry, I’ll just look them into the eyes. You’ll allow me this little pleasure, won’t you?”

“If you keep quiet and keep your teeth in check? Go ahead,” said Kysaek as the side door of the transporter sealed. “If that gets us enemies, they were enemies anyway.”

“Finally a thought we can

agree on. Ha ha ha. Let’s get this over with.”

Those were the right words: let’s get it over with. With this attitude, which was not only shared by Kysaek, the Bolt Dropper made its way to Central and the otherwise so busy, flowing traffic of civilian freighters and transporters lay completely idle in this section of space. Ranger ships were also securing a corridor for the Nebula Bolt Dropper, which looked completely inconspicuous and insignificant in the face of these warships and, above all, the white moon of Central. Nevertheless, these precautions, which represented both protection and reception, had been arranged solely for the small troop carrier. In the atmosphere and over the city itself, things were less grandiose. A squadron of fighter planes flew with the dropper, but that was as far as it went, and shortly before reaching the city, where the central dome in particular rose up, the escorts dispersed in all directions. The narrow skyscrapers of the high layers, the surface city on the gigantic steel foundation of Cnetral, stretched into the air like scrawny fingers, widely spaced and with a sea of much smaller, mostly cube-shaped buildings between them. Everything paled against the dome at the centre of the megacity, however, and to enter it, the Bolt Dropper had to use a lower flight tunnel, guarded by automatic weapons and barely flown over. Anyone who had no business in this area was always well advised not to be anywhere near it, especially not now that special guests were approaching and initially entering the darker but illuminated tunnel.

In general, this was an expectant moment for Kysaek, and not just because of her location. She had once lived in the upper classes because of her father’s diplomatic work, but she had never been under the dome and didn’t even recognise the place from pictures. Strict security regulations forbade explicit photographs of the inner structure, but there were rumours and now Kysaek saw confirmation of the words she had heard with her own eyes.

Colourful and lush green, it was a contrast that she was sure did not exist anywhere else in the city. There was another world in this place, if you were looking for words to describe it, an ecosystem of its own in truth, and you could have sworn you weren’t on Central. There was a relaxed calm, detached from the daily hustle and bustle and not even the dome above it all was remotely recognisable. Instead, there was sunshine and a blue, slightly cloudy sky. Wider buildings, whose entire shape resembled a curved one, gave the impression of sprouting like a plant from the fertile ground. Technology and nature seemed to be almost in perfect harmony and surely one would not have wanted to or been able to imagine the amount of resources that had to be used to create something so sublime. The same applied to the most significant point under the dome, the symbolic and final centre of everything - the seat of the Spectrum and of all the important and influential politics that existed in this galaxy. Four rather narrow administrative wings, bathed in innocent white, separated from each other and built on top of each other, started at the bottom, but the further it went towards the centre, the more the number of storeys increased and its smooth, silvery steel roof followed the growing height at a clean 45 degree angle, as if the architectures were growing towards each other. However, before they merged at a height of a good 500 metres, the four parts ended and there was enough free space between them to build an equally expansive office tower. However, there was no such thing, but a part that was accessible and supported by all four structures. Somehow, however, this hexagon-shaped building seemed a little out of place, as if it had been constructed after the fact and placed on the ends of the four beams as a closure. It was precisely in this hexagon that the Spectrum resided and ruled.

In order to counter this body, previously communicated rules had to be observed, which even Vorrn followed. Like Kysasek and Thais, he had discarded all firearms and explosives and stowed them in a small compartment of the transporter. But there was one last thing he didn’t want to give up. “It’s part of my culture.”

“I don’t think the security is concerned with culture,” said Kysaek, her eyes fixed on the spiky attachment that adorned the tip of the lizard’s tail.

“It’s just an accessory.”

“It can poke holes in bodies.”

“So can my claws and teeth.”

“There you have it,” Kysaek caught the Hishek off guard. “You don’t need that. You’re a weapon.”

Still reluctant, but convinced, Vorrn placed the tip of his tail on the ground and pressed his claws to the beginning of the serrated attachment so he could release it. “That’s me. Could easily be my words.”

“Didn’t you say that to us once?”

“Did I? Maybe i did. I have a good memory, but I don’t always remember everything I say to you. However, it’s good to know that my words and presence are lodged in your skull.”

“You, just like the rest of the crew,” Kysaek smirked, in an attempt to dampen the Hishek’s ego a little. “I must have a lot on my mind.”

“Still, I always need more space then anyone else,” Vorrn gloated, but he let the subject rest with that.

Kysaek, meanwhile, grabbed the secure cassette the group was carrying, which contained a copy of all the data captured during the battle for Trident Three. The crew had even included their own report, a view from their own perspective and what they had experienced up to that point. “We’re here,” muttered Kysaek meekly.

The Bolt Dropper reached the heights of the hexagon, where there were no external landing platforms. Instead, a hangar opened up, which quickly turned out to be a garage and car park for a dozen of the finest and noblest hover wheels. There was no crowd, spectators or reporters here. No grand reception and just a Davoc in lofty, dark robes, decorated with golden yellow patterns and two rangers at her side. After the Bolt Dropper had touched down and opened its flaps, that Davoc received the exiting guests. “Warmest greetings to you all,” the woman said, bowing slightly with her arms outstretched. “My name is Nohnah. I am an assistant and humble servant of the Spectrum, and I welcome you to the Heart of Order.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Kysaek greeted back politely, looking left and right. “These are Vorrn and Thais. They’ll be at the meeting.”

“But of course, the invitation was extended to the entire crew, even if your smaller group will certainly be more conducive to the proceedings. Please follow me,” Nohnah asked, pushing her right arm invitingly towards the only door of the spacious garage. Her guests followed her friendly invitation and passed through a clearly positioned light barrier, which scanned the new arrivals on the side. There were no problems and the Heart of Order, the common and official name for this seat of government and all that was concealed by the dome, awaited in all its splendour and magnificence. Organic plants, including real trees and seas of flowers of uniform colours from different planets and even marked by small rivers and ponds, were found in a large, very long and tall hall that gave access to various corridors. The play of light in particular, in which bright cones were thrown upwards from below against nature, portraits and the panelling, gave the setting something grand and awe-inspiring. Everything had its place here, however, and every centimetre seemed precisely measured, as one would expect from a bureaucratic apparatus.

Kysaek tried not to be too distracted by her surroundings, although that wasn’t exactly easy with all the prying eyes in the hall. Suits, robes and quite strange garb that humans would never or could never wear, some of which were clearly adorned with symbols of known factions, adorned every body and Kysaek was sure that most of them were political members and not just employees of the house. Who else could afford to be here right now, engaging in fleeting whispers when she remembered the Spectrum´s words that this hearing was to be extremely discreet. Then again, she was in an open hallway and, as much as Kysaek hated to admit it, even politicians were mere inhabitants of this galaxy.

“Up ahead,” Nohnah said. “This lift will take you to the Council Hall.”

To Kysaek, the lift in question, which didn’t have a guard, looked like all the others. However, an unease rippled through the pit of her stomach when she spotted a group of Palanians in dark garb nearby and there was no doubt as to their affiliation - the Palanian Junta. The eyes of the men and women reflected confrontation and judgement, which didn’t surprise Kysaek. Even if these politicians had had nothing to do with the Flotilla at Trident Three, many Palanian lives and ships had been lost, and for a species whose military mores were unrivalled, any defeat was a stab to the heart and pride.

Prudent as she was, Thais did not fail to notice this silent exchange and the brawnier Talin simply blocked the field of vision between her leader and the politicians with an unimpressed look towards the junta, much to the displeasure of the Palanians, who eventually moved away in unison.

Nohnah had completely missed the whole thing, or she didn’t mention it for the sake of diplomacy. “Please, get in,” she asked with a wave of her hand towards the opening lift doors. “This will take you directly to the Spectrum.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Thais asked dismissively. Months of escaping had not gone past their relationship of trust.

“Oh, not at all,” the Davoc smiled kindly and folded her hands over her stomach. “My task is done and the Spectrum is very busy. Never be there if you don’t have to be.”

“Everyone has to sleep once.”

“Of course, but I don’t really understand what relevance that has?”

“She’s just curious,” Kysaek deflected the situation and patted Thais on the shoulder, accompanied by a gentle push into the lift. “It’s not every day you get to be in the Heart of Order. Come on, then. I’m sure the Spectrum will answer all our questions. Thank you for your service, Nohnah.”

“It’s been a pleasure and an honour,” the Davoc bowed her head, all three eyes closed

With the doors shut tight and a display witnessing the silent movement of the cabin, Vorrn gave his view to the piercing stares and suspicion. “After all the bloodshed, just think: a lift as a death trap? Clever and unsatisfactory at the same time. If we fell here, my ghost would haunt this soulless building forever, even if it meant denying me the best place among my ancestors.”

“We should all have a little more faith and confidence,” Kysaek breathed deeply. “The days of the underground are over.”

“Faith and confidence...?” Vorrn’s nostrils fluttered brightly in disbelief, but in a calm way. “In the place of politics? Everyone here sells you out just so they can sit one row further forward in the plenary chamber.”

Spoken again by the Hishek and repeated in her own head, Kysaek corrected herself awkwardly. “Let’s pretend I never said that, please.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t memorise everything we talk about. It’s just sad.”

“Speaking of remembering,” Thais said, sliding her fingers over the wall of the lift. “I heard the Spectrum sits right in the middle of the building, but we never went in deep enough for this lift to take us there.”

“A Talin without subtlety,” Vorrn scoffed lightly, scraping the floor quietly with his foot claws. “Don’t you realise? This cabin doesn’t just go straight up. It’s already switched to a sideways route twice.”

“Hm, I did indeed miss that. So you could probably get to the Spectrum with any lift?”

“Many of them, at least. It’s probably for security reasons, to prevent potential assassins or spies from planning ahead,” Vorrn surmised as he looked towards the lift door and focused his eyes. “I think we’re here.”

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