Chapter 1: December 2nd 2350 AD

Space ... the vacuum of nothingness. Yet, even as we stand in the darkness, the twinkling lights of billions of stars fill the void. Like beacons, they are lighthouses in an area supposedly devoid of life.

How does such a system operate like this? Space is devoid of almost anything. There is so little in matter that it makes it difficult for anything to form. Space is literally too large. The universe that we come from wasn’t like this when we first came into existence. The ... Big Bang ... as the humans like to call it, was an explosion where their perception of the laws of physics was ultimately created. Indeed, we had our own system of similar laws. However, billions of Earth years ago, space hadn’t expanded to the size that it is now.

As we stand floating in space, we see a cluster of small stars in our view. It is magnified and altered, so we can see many of them in our focal range. The one that causes the greatest attraction of our view is the set of two glowing yellow stars. A single red dwarf star circulates around the binary stars. The humans call this system Proxima due to the close proximity to their home system. Even then, despite the abundance of worlds that revolve around them, humans would see a vast range of nothingness before reaching such a place. Space is like that. Most civilizations, like humans, had a daunting task ahead of them. Everything is distanced apart that it almost seems nigh. As the caretakers of the universe, we truly understand the dilemma that is left behind for each species in their survival. Most never make it, doomed by the hubris of their own civilization or due to the inevitable demise of their homes from outside phenomena. The gift that we leave behind is the only means necessary to help ensure their survival.

Yet, with so much distance between objects in a realm of little, it may surprise you how much activity does occur in the vacuum of space. The humans had said it best long ago. The chances of getting killed by a meteor impact are 1 in 700,000, given the person’s lifetime and the corresponding mass of the impact of the said meteor. However, even such a statement is not without its criticism. Indeed, it is present that humans really don’t have a definitive account that meteors or meteorites have led to any fatalities. Some claim that some humans have died from falling meteorites, while other reports claim that no data on such events have ever occurred. Yet, the galaxy has seen its share of collisions. Despite all the space available, two objects will eventually hit each other. The amount of force applied between the two objects depends on their mass, composition, and force applied to each other. The angle at which the two hit one another, and gravity also play significant roles. Other outside forces can also affect how impacts can occur.

Collisions are a surprising factor in why life exists in the universe. Two objects meeting one another is why we thrive. It is why the Itreans exist. However, it may come with a price. In one foul strike, a single asteroid millions of Earth years ago would lead to the demise of many of the dinosaurs. Indeed, it almost led to the end of any possible civilization to ever rise from such a hostile action.

Yet, we already know that the Itreans rose from such a catastrophe. They learned to adapt and move forward, leaving their homeworld to find another place to live. In their place, it would lead to the eventual rise of the human race that we seem so well determined to observe.

Collisions ... it is the act of two objects determined to eventually meet one another. This can be as something simple as two rocks that ram into each other, a fist going into the cranium of an opponent, or sperm finding an egg to fertilize. Every act of collision can have the greatest of consequences. Its results can be minor, but eventually, it may lead to significant future events. Those two tiny rocks may collide, shattering debris in all directions, at which point they will fly to Proxima and smash upon their planets’ surfaces. With it are the building blocks for life to evolve. All because of this simple act.

Why is this important? Because we will venture to the nearby world of Earth. It seems to be something that forms quite a lot of discussions for all of us. Are humans truly destined to reach ascension? If they do, will they bring the others from their planet along with them? The Itreans have accomplished much in their lifetime. However, what took them millions of years to reach their progression was done in a fraction of the time with humanity. They may still annihilate themselves or face inevitable extinction, but it seems promising to say the least.

For now, we must venture to Earth. We begin our short trip to the single yellow dwarf star directly ahead of us. In seconds, the star begins to get bigger and bigger. Eventually, we zip past the Oort Cloud and its thousands of tiny asteroids to reach the Sol System. The seemingly isolated star holds its secrets even as the human race has long ventured outward to the worlds beyond. In less than a few seconds, the globe and its moon are revealed. The countless brightly lit dots of spaceships are not far from the moon’s surface. Some are commercial vessels bringing their cargo to the trading ports of Luna. Others are shuttles traveling to important routes. A few of the ships are UHN warships, acting as permanent guardians in ensuring human survival as time progresses. We zip past the moon until we can see a better view of Earth.

By now, the lit rays of the sun illuminate much of the surface. It takes up most of the viewpoint ahead of us. In orbit are a variety of green warships. The humans had long abandoned much of the planet. New homes were found, which many of the former forsaken now enjoy. The surface is covered in a sheen of gray clouds. Any observable hint past the atmosphere is that of an orange-tinted ocean. At the end of the year, Earth will slowly lose its name, replaced with the original title that had been long given to its ancient inhabitants.

However, despite the wasteland that Earth is, efforts are underway. Even now, old, converted dreadnoughts launch seeding probes to help purify the tainted air. We move in closer and closer into the atmosphere. In moments, we dart through the acidic rain clouds that pour the orange muck onto the dead sands of Earth. Occasional lightning strikes fill the sky. Eventually, we pierce through the clouds to see what was described as South America. By now, almost all life had been ridden, replaced with clay, sand, mud, rocks, bones, and toxic sludge. However, much of the landscape of the original continent is no longer recognizable. What was Brazil has been leached from the risen sea levels. This was the former place of the great tropical rainforests. Instead, the trees are consumed by the ocean or rotten to oblivion.

Despite all of the scenery, we close in on a series of extensive facilities near the Amazon basin. A hint of clarity can be seen in this region. Past a series of pulsing red-lit areas is that of transparency. The sea that splashes against the beaches is clean of the orange muck. The air is seemingly pure. While the destroyed environment is still present, this area appears to be livable. Even now, the hint of a few humans walking without protective suits trek through this area. What was once a place that only promised death to the unprotected is habitable. The clouds are white and puffy. Even a hint of the sun’s rays’ pierces through, revealing a relatively clean landscape.

The Itrean translation for this area is “Purifier Penitentiary Station 8.” It consists of dozens of constructed warehouses. Large laser fences surround the kilometers of the open field around it. Construction vehicles, mills, and domed buildings line the area. At the edge, corners consist of a few autogun batteries to protect the compound. A landing pad has a shuttle dropping off individuals. This area is busy with activity. Countless Itreans, dressed in green and yellow stripes are tilling the soil with advanced digging syringes. Not far from them are a few guards, fellow Yutilians dressed in green and black wrap armor armed with rifles.

This is a prison yard, a known controversial issue in the hands of the UWA. Even if Earth had been handed over to the T’rintar clan, the dilemma remains that the planet needs to be cleaned up. Former Itrean prisoners of war and T’rintar criminals are tasked with the role of janitors, cleaning the soil, planting unique trees hardened for harsh climates, and purifying the water. The Itreans are used to war and savagery. Perhaps it is the best choice of action for a race of people that don’t normally take prisoners, but not all humans are comfortable in seeing the former planet being regulated into a prison planet. Even if progress is swift, it will take a considerable time for the world to be completely habitable.

For now, many compounds like this will remain. As more prisoners are brought in, the process is sped up slowly but effectively. Despite the hard work of these POWs, many are edging toward freedom. If it takes years to do so, then they will. Each Itrean has a story to tell, whether they were taken from a battle, surrendered willingly, or are genuinely deranged. The T’rintar clan won’t stop till they get the planet that they bargained for. It is the price of an alliance between the UWA and an Itrean clan that promises to protect them from the utter sheer power that the other Itrean clans consist of. Without the T’rintar, the UWA and humanity are surely lost.

However, the landscape slowly turns green. Inch by inch, meter by meter, the dead will be restored. Even the buildings show hints of vines and flowering fruits that grow along the edges. The price is difficult for paradise to exist. We are near the end of our journey. We zoom into one of the largest buildings. Past the armored walls is a cluster of various rooms. This is the heart of the prison. Itrean guards patrol the enclosed halls. Partial light is given, most likely to conserve power. Clear reinforced transparent alloy line in each room, serving as a door and wall for the prisoners to reside.

Inside each room are a pair of Itreans. Some are bored, distressed, or exhausted. The women have little to do but sleep in their beds or use the nearby toilet. Occasional tilons of reading material are handed through the small open slots of the door. The metal rods might as well be a currency for each prisoner.

No two Itrean are truly alike. Some are Yutilians, although they are often few and far between, most of them being the guards. Their greenish armor and green scales are more obvious. Most guards choose to wear their helmets to prevent prisoners from identifying them. Even for the shortest of races, the Yutilians are no laughing matter. They carry the weapons and equipment to keep the prisoners from revolting. Descended from the Velociraptors, they walk on their digitigrade legs, with a metal tail that swings back and forth near their rear ends. From any guard that doesn’t wear their helmets, the women’s feathers jut from their foreheads. Some prisoners are Aksren. Their crested head and snouts are apparent. Descended from the oviraptors, they are almost the same height as the short-statured Yutilians.

Then, there are Shal’rein. Of the three primary races, the Shal’rein are most noticeable. Their shark-like appearances, fin-like arms, ears, and tails can be easily noted. They are much bigger than all humans, Yutilians, or Aksren. One of these women, consisting of dark purple scales and gray tattoos, lightly slaps the door. Her face is grimaced, angry to be held there and hopefully taunting the smaller Yutilian guards that walk past her door. Her teeth are exposed from her snout and mouth, ready to bite down against any type of flesh that dares try to reach her.

Not far from this Shal’rein is our final resting place. The neighboring room consists of two Shal’rein. One is in her bunk, lying on her back. She has orange scaly skin with red stripes, black hair with blue streaks, and blue eyes. In her hands is a tilon. The metal rods are pulled apart, displaying a screen that the woman intently reads. A hint of a smile could be seen from her pointed snout.

On the other side of the room is another Shal’rein, busy doing push-ups. A sense of familiarity comes from this individual, almost as if we had seen this individual before. Unlike the orange-colored Itrean, this one is slightly bigger, measuring just about 8 to 9 feet in height. She has purple hair and reddish eyes. Her gray and purple scale-striped skin doesn’t hide the fact that she has a heavy muscular frame. Her gray tail protrudes from her rear end, slumped to the side as she uses her knuckles to push her entire body up. Her purple hair is neatly tied up enough that it doesn’t hang over her right shoulder. In the woman’s pointed snout is a grimaced face. She almost appears to be in pain, pushing her body to the limit but not caring about it. Her razor-sharp teeth are exposed, and she is breathing hard. At times, she grunts as if she doesn’t want to stop.

“Ergh ... Ergh!” the muscular Shal’rein said as she kept doing her push-ups. Her arms were starting to buckle from the heavy strain.

“Girsha’lar...,” the other Shal’rein replied in English. “Keep going, and your body will explode...” There was no hint of remorse in how she said it. Her voice consisted of a Japanese, English, and French accent combined with an exaggerated raspiness tone. The way she spoke was similar to the way that a person was whispering as loudly as they could.

“No!” Girsha’lar angrily replied. Her voice had a deeper tone than the relaxed Shal’rein. “Won’t fucking stop! WON”T FUCKING STOP!”

The orange Shal’rein continued to read her story. A picture on her page showed an image of a box in mid-explosion. For a brief moment, there was a hint of happiness on the woman’s face.

“Mmmm ... the humans know the perfect stories,” the woman commented to Girsha’lar.

“You’re reading that...,” Girsha’lar grunted. “That same stupid story!?”

“‘The Bomb Man Part 3’ is wonderful.”

Girsha’lar continued to do her push-ups until her arms buckled. It could no longer stand the strain. Her knee anchored her to the hard marble-like floor. She took her fist and slammed it to the ground.

“2035 joules,” the other Shal’rein said. Her head turned to look at her. “You’re troubled.”

“Tired of this ... tired of this, Nir’vina. Tired of you ... tired of the same books. Tired of them ... I can’t stand this anymore!”

“It happens every day...,” Nir’vina replied as she closed her tilon and rolled to her side to gaze at the angered Shal’rein. “Talk to me or explode, whichever comes first.”

“I fucking hate them, Nir’vina ... They tell us that we have to work for tomorrow’s shift. Last shift wasn’t fast enough ... not quick enough. I told them they should have spread the Shal’rein and Aksren in their teams. Of course, the Shal’rein are faster at their work. The damn equipment is lighter than shit!”

“My mate, they are designed for Yutilians and Aksren,” Nir’vina replied. “They weren’t thinking about Shal’rein. They weren’t expecting to take prisoners at all.”

“She fucking betrayed me ... betrayed us ... dumped us onto this wasteland of a...”

“I know,” she replied and winced her breath. “I know you are suffering ... just like the rest of us. Don’t worry ... In days we will make the big break...” Her head looked at the door. “Before they know it ... boom.”

“Still chasing your dream of making an explosion big enough to destroy that?” She gestured to the heavily reinforced wall.

“An explosion big enough to clear half this base ... it will be glorious.”

Girsha’lar leaned up onto her bed. Her exhaustion was kicking in as she put her hand to her head. “It won’t work. Using your urine to help concoct an explosive was stupid.”

“I just missed having enough ammonia to make the explosive work. The guards are just too smart.”

“They can hear us talk ... they heard you mumbling in your sleep. Before they knew it, they rummaged through your bed and found it.”

Nir’vina smiled and looked away. “Shame ... I would have loved to see them try to dismantle it ... then they would have failed and used bombs to disable it. If only I were there to see the explosives used to stop my bomb.”

“You and bombs ... it’s always about the damn bombs.”

“Bombs are good. So pretty and beautiful ... beautiful as you.”

Girsha’lar didn’t seem impressed as she put her hands to her face. “For once ... I wish it wasn’t about you and fucking explosives. Even the best of gunsmiths couldn’t reach the demand that you want from them.”

Nir’vina smiled in an almost devious way. “Do you think that my life is always about the biggest explosions?” Her head looked at the structure of the walls. “I want to make bombs ... I want to blow up this place.”

“And take us out with it.”

“No...,” Nir’vina pointed her four-digit hand to Girsha’lar. “To help you, because I know you’re suffering. Freedom for us and every one of our sisters that got wrongfully betrayed by the other crewmembers of the Garja. You just believe that if you’re strong enough that you can punch your way out.”

Girsha’lar looked at her hand and flexed them. “It’ll be enough to choke the life of one of the guards ... I’ll go down fighting.”

“That isn’t the way. That will be...”

“HEY!” a wondering Yutilian guard near their door said. “Silence.”

“You talk big ‘Giop,’” Girsha’lar responded to her. She stood up and approached the transparent door. “You’re gun won’t be enough to save you when I’m done with you.”

“Oh, Girsha’lar,” Nir’vina whispered back.

The guard tapped a button on her armor. In seconds, the sound of electricity began to hit Girsha’lar. The Shal’rein began to tense up, fighting the punishment device that was inside of her. Deep down, she knew that the implant on her spinal cord was sending a heavy shock through her body. It wasn’t enough to stop her heart, but it caused pain. Girsha’lar seemed to endure it for a second, but eventually, she began to buckle. Her grunts got louder until the guard pushed the button to stop the device. Finally, Girsha’lar’s knee pressed to the ground. She was gasping for air and quickly regained her strength. Her face of anger was shown to the guard.

“One more time,” the guard threatened her. “I’ll send a shock so strong that you’ll be working in ... what the humans call a wheelchair. Silence... ‘Giop.’”

The guard resumed her walk without a care in the world. Girsha’lar’s rage was held from within. She hadn’t noticed that Nir’vina had approached her. Her hand was pressed to the muscular woman’s back.

“Fuck ... fuck ... fuck...,” Girsha’lar said. She almost swatted Nir’vina’s hand away, but she was too weak to do it. Instead, the other Shal’rein used her hand to help lift Girsha’lar to the bed slowly.

“The spinal implants prevent us from fighting them,” Nir’vina told her. “You know this, and yet you taunt them every day.”

“I want them to see it...” A tear began to roll down Girsha’lar’s face. She was doing her best to fight her emotions. “I want them to see my rage ... I wish we were dead.”

“No...,” Nir’vina waved her finger at her. “We will escape. You told me yourself. The humans and T’rintar lie to us ... make us work in cleaning a planet that humans care nothing for. Make us learn their language. Then they sleep in their happy little dens ... fuck each other as we do their dirty work.”

“Yes...,” Girsha’lar sneered. “They can hold us for seven months. It won’t work. We won’t give in to their demands. The others may see it, but we see through their propaganda.”

“And when the time comes, I’ll make sure to slip a grenade in that guard’s mouth. Watch her eat it and see how wrap armor contains an explosion.”

Nir’vina took her finger and gently played with Girsha’lar’s head. “Yes ... yes...” Girsha’lar replied with a sense of relief on her face. “We’ll get out ... all of us.”

“That’s a good mate ... douse the flint ... gather more gunpowder ... the bigger the explosion. One that will be big enough to get us out ... together.”

Girsha’lar’s hand went to Nir’vina’s. In less than a second, they gripped each other like a vice. Nir’vina always knew that Girsha’lar needed companionship when she needed it the most. It was the only way to quell her soul and try to keep her sane in the countless days since they were taken as a prisoner of war.

“Sometimes ... I see those humans...” Girsha’lar told her. “Then ... I want one of their men ... force them down ... Like...,” she took her hand and put it to her forehead. “Like I haven’t had a male in ten years. The man’s face is ... it won’t go away, Nir’vina. It won’t go away. That bearded man we took on the Garja ... he won’t ... I ... I’ve been here too long.”

“Shhhh,” Nir’vina slowly hushed her. “He’s gone ... he won’t come back.”

Nir’vina could see that Girsha’lar was using her anger to disguise her repression. There was sadness in her voice, even if it was minor. The tedium in the work schedules and backbreaking work had been taking their toll. It wasn’t as if the T’rintar were merciless. However, no Itrean species was truly used to taking prisoners at all. The surrounding environment was still pristine and had at least some level of comfort in it. But a prison was still a prison. The walls always seemed to be closing in on Girsha’lar.

However, Girsha’lar could feel a hand grapple onto her large right breast. The hand of the orange-colored Shal’rein was squeezing it. The fabric of Girsha’lar’s shirt was showing hints of getting damp.

“Not now...” Girsha’lar almost pushed Nir’vina’s hand away.

“You need relief...,” Nir’vina replied with a smile.

Girsha’lar tried to ignore it. “I’m not in the mood.”

“It hasn’t stopped you from enjoying our time ... you could use a little ... diffusing.”

“Ever since we became mates, my breasts started to lactate,” Girsha’lar commented. Then, she gave a disgruntled look at her. “They got bigger...”

“Heh...,” Nir’vina chuckled.

“Argh!” Girsha’lar practically swatted her away. She stood up with her fists bound together. “It’s them doing this! They’re experimenting on us!”

“Do you think the T’rintar are responsible for this?”

“It has to be,” Girsha’lar sneered at the door. “They know we fuck ... now they use us as ‘Kignos.’ What better way to find ways to improve their own Shal’rein than use us to run their experiments.”

“Yes...,” Nir’vina seemed to show a hint of rejection.

Girsha’lar knew that their situation was placed into an odd spectacle. Even if the two had become mates, the fact remained that the occasional guard would see it. At times, the two had to brave the elements and run with their feelings. Thankfully, there were no rooms or prisoners on the other side of the hallway due to the building’s construction.