Nothing is given for free, there is always a price. Even if someone does give you something, they expect something in return. If you do not give something in return, you instead default to giving away your reputation. Such is this life. In this case, Thiol had to oblige and give up front. The Yvnivians had information they needed.

Thiol was now sitting on a rug, and the biped sat on the other end. The bipeds accompanying him stood a respectful distance away, but looked on in interest. This was likely due to the fact that, unless Thiol was misinformed, they were likely the first outworlder these people had seen. Their lifespans usually ran about thirty years, and thiol hadn’t been here in two hundred, so outworlders were likely talked about as myth by this point.

The biped took off his helmet, and sat it in front of him. “For seven generations, our people have lived here undisturbed. Now, our method of concealment is beginning to fail us. How did you come to find us?”

“Word of mouth. I needed information about your founder, and I asked around.”

“So our whereabouts are known, then?” He looked deeply troubled.

“So it would seem.” Thiol looked around at the plants surrounding the rug. Yuri. A plant commonly smoked for its narcotic properties. They reached into the interior of their coat, pulled out a collapsable pipe, and set about packing and lighting it. While they were unsure about the habits of present day Yvnivians, this was common practice amongst the founders.

The biped furrowed his brow for a moment, before continuing to speak. “It seems our cloaking device is failing us. It has begun to make strange noises, and flicker on and off for hours at a time.”

They were silent for a moment, focused on packing the pipe. Once it was packed, they lit it, and turned back to the biped. “And you want me to fix it?”

“None of my people have any skill in the repair of devices so advanced as this. It is effectively sorcery.” He shook his head.

“Very well. First, I will grab my tools, then you will take me to it.” Thiol stood up, took a puff, and went into their ship. They grabbed a multitool, a sack of miscellaneous parts, and a cooling rod. When they returned, they found a mount waiting for them, directly adjacent to the biped leader, who was wearing his helmet again. They jumped onto the mound, and went into town.

The town had grown less than Thiol had expected in these years. If the size and number of residences indicated correctly, there were only approximately 500 residents, compared to the 238 residents that began the town. The buildings were simple hexagonal cabins with domed clay roofs.

The leader took Thiol to a large metal building. It stood in sharp contrast to everything else in the town. This was likely what remained of the original vessel that had brought the founders here. They dismounted, and walked inside, with the biped in the lead. They walked down a long corridor and went into a room on the side. Inside the room sat an enormous peacefully humming machine. It emitted a bright light from slits in the sides of it. Its rhythmic humming was interrupted by a loud clank, which was followed by a wheeze. The machine then resumed its humming.

“I can likely repair this.” Thiol turned back to the leader. “I will need fifteen minutes of solitude.”

The leader nodded, and exited the room, pulling a door shut behind him.

Thiol did not, however, operate under the illusion that he was unwatched. They dismantled the machine, swapped some exchangeable parts out, and reassembled it. Lastly they stood back, and typed a command into their tablet. The machine returned to its rhythmic humming. Thiol exited the room.

Outside, the leader stood in wait. “Have you done it?”

“Yes. I assume this building is also the hall of histories?”

“We owe you an eternal debt of gratitude.” The leader bowed for a moment, before noticing Thiol was not reciprocating. “Ah, yes, this is the hall of histories. I have people that can help you find what it is you need, if you require.”

“I am fine, I will vacate your settlement before sundown.” Thiol nodded and walked off.

“Oh, we do have one more thing we would ask of you.” The biped called after Thiol. “Please tell the people who sent you here that their information is incorrect.”

“Very well.” Thiol did not pause their stride.

Thiol scanned the old ship, opening up every compartment, and checking every orifice. They stumbled over many images of the founders, along with the outworlders who assisted them. They took a photo of each one of them with their tablet. They then found a dust covered data stick, and placed it in their pocket for later viewing. None of the equipment here was likely to work at all, and if it did, it was likely unsecured.

Thiol having examined everything, returned to their ship, without a word.

Everything has a price, especially knowledge. That is why it is best to create a need in the other party that is extremely easy for you to provide for. That is why Thiol used his tablet to sabotage the cloaking device remotely.

Thiol reclined in their chair in the bridge of their ship. Their ship was safely in orbit of the planet Jupiter, and it was now time to dig through Uku’s private files. Thiol pulled out a spare tablet, disconnected completely from any of his ships systems, and inserted the data stick.

On it, were mostly routine and uninteresting files, as could be expected. There was one file of interest, though. It was a text file, entitled, Kukoum. From their years of digging, Thiol had gathered that Kukoum was likely either an alias they had used in the past, or someone involved with what they were looking for. Either way, Kukoum appeared to have met a grizzly end at the hands of what appeared to be his friends.

The text file read as follows:

Regarding the matter of Kukoum: I write this log in fear that it one day may be needed for the survival of the settlement. In the founding of Yvan, and the exodus of the Yvnivians from the Klaxx-on oppressors, I utilized many contractors. They were recruited for me by a sympathizer in the Klaxx-on government, known to me simply as Syn. I wired him the necessary funds, and that was that. Kukoum was one of those contractors. Kukoum was very private, which is to be expected from contractors, but I received a dossier from him, regarding his strengths. I also received a method to contact him if things were to go awry. He said he didn’t consider this contract to be one and done, he preferred to ensure the prolonged success of those involved. I am unsure if this is typical of him or if he just had a special interest in my case.

Many years later, once the settlement had been founded, I received a message from Syn. He instructed me to summon Kukoum here, or else he would reveal my location to the Klaxx-on government. He said to summon him to arrive at 18:50:01:02:19as. That date was two days after I received the message. He didn’t say what was going to happen, nor did he provide any other details. I had a great deal of respect for Kukoum, but this was something I simply could not risk. I informed Kukoum of when I needed him to arrive, and that was that. Two days later, many Klaxx-on ships appeared in orbit, and I thought Syn had sold us out. Syn, however, beamed down to the planet to speak to me. He told me that as long as I had held up my end of the bargain, my people were in no danger. The force was here to draw Kukoum in, and to subdue him. He said this was a completely off the books operation, and as long as I cooperated, my people would remain unharmed. I ushered them all inside the hall of histories for shelter, and I waited. I did not see what happened to Kukoum, but I imagine he is dead now. This is all I know.

Attached to the document, was a Klaxx-on communication ID, labelled Syn. Thiol typed it into their database, and found it traced to a home on Klaxx-on 2, the capitol planet.

[Previous Part]

Hey everyone! This is where this story ends for now, but I may come back to it later. If you enjoyed it and want to read more, please let me know!

(Art credit: WordPress Free Photo Library)

Thiol stepped off the ramp to their ship. At the push of a button, the ramp closed behind them. Their ship was a customary Klax-on vessel, rugged and simple. The green and blue blobbed pattern looked awful, but it allegedly blended in better in orbit. They needed to try one last thing before they left this system, but if they were honest, they were already planning where they would go after they had failed. So many failed attempts could only lead one to become jaded, nonetheless, they must try. If they didn’t at least try then they had truly lost any sense of purpose.

They approached a gray fabricated building, a cylinder, two stories high, relatively large. They had been in many identical buildings before, as any food or drink dispensary was produced with an identical template. They could build or demolish one of these in an afternoon. Etched above a plain titanium door, was the name of the bar, the only unique thing about the structure. ‘Xor’, it read. This was the place. Thiol pushed through the door.

The structure of nearly every Klax-on bar was identical, which lead the individual bars to seek miscellaneous items from every corner of the empire, sometimes even beyond, to set their place apart. This one was clearly based on the desert world of Klax-on 78. There were carapace tables and chairs, but Thiol doubted their authenticity. The counter itself was coated with definitely fake scale. The carapace was possible, but everyone knows that scale coated surfaces are always fake, it would be far too costly to just help set the aesthetic of a bar.

As they entered, not a single head turned, because Thiol was just another local seeking numb the pain of oppression. Thiol had been to many different systems, and found the quest to numb one’s pain is near universal.

They strode across the bar, and approached a feathered stout humanoid. He looked up and produced a startled cooing noise. “You are alive?” He slid a plate of shellfish across the table.

“I need to know who you sold me out to, Kurok.” Thiol spoke in a monotone voice. They glanced down at the shelled meat. It produced a natural high in the locals, and wasn’t restricted under Klaxx-on code. Unfortunately it only produced a high in the locals.

“I can’t tell you that I ever knew.” Kurok shook his lower beak and cooed in remorse.

“That is bad for you.” Thiol placed a pistol on the table.

“I don’t fear you, Kukoum.” Kurok laughed. “It will take more than one gun to lean on me.”

Thiol pulled a tablet from his belt, and slid it across the table. On it was a simple list of names and exact addresses.

Kurok growled softly. “I don’t take this lightly, but I will give you what I have.” He pulled the plate of shellfish back towards him, and threw one, unshelled, into his mouth. “They didn’t want to tell me who they were, but I don’t like doing business without some kind of leverage. So I had some people look into him. He is some kind of creature from the terran system, and that is all I have.”

Thiol stood up without a word, and holstered their pistol.

“One more thing, Kukoum.” The feathers around his beak stood up, and the shell in his mouth rattled as he spoke. “I consider us even. So never return, lest I reconsider our balance.”

“Not to worry, your culture is simplistic, and my brief stay here has already been miserable.” Thiol strode out without another word. A brief moment, and they returned to their ship, and left the system.

Gas giants aren’t exactly conducive to life, in and of themselves. In some systems, gas giants were used as hubs for shipping and space stations, but the Terran’s lacked the technology required to take advantage of this. In search of life in the terran system, why would one come to the portion inhabited by gas giants, then? The moons.

Saturn, in particular, had a moon worth checking on. This moon was selected by a group of primitivists as their home. They sought to get away from the Klaxx-on empire, away from modern culture and technology, and they selected a system far enough out of reach of the empire to not be of particular worry. This system had two options, and one was already inhabited. Now, one might assume they just immediately came to the uninhabited world, since they were primitivists after all, but one would be wrong.

Terra was more or less the level of technology they had romanticized, and wanted so badly to return to. They landed there, expecting welcome and cooperation, and they received nothing but pain. The humans welcomed them at first, but their tune soon changed. They made a move in the dead of night, and half of the primitivists were slaughtered. The remaining half settled here, on Yvan. They retrofitted their ship into a cloaking device, to try to hide themselves from the empire, and thus far it worked.

Thiol landed in a clearing in the forest surrounding their settlement. They strained themself, and the beak retreated back into their face, a snout reformed. They stepped off the ramp of their ship, and saw a group of mounted Yvnivians approaching. Thiol took a glance behind himself at their ship. It was still the same style, but it was now a uniform gray, no longer bearing the gaudy colors of the Klaxx-ons.

The mounted party was now nearly upon Thiol. The thunder of claws on earth subsided, and one individual stepped forwards. They wore a scale helm, with tusks jutting out from the sides. Their mount was a low to the ground chitinous hexapod. A hoofed biped stepped off of the creature. Its skin was covered in fur, but it was armored with scale. Thiol recognized the helm, as something worn by the leader.

“Return to your vessel, at once.” The biped spoke in a low rumble.

“No.” Thiol replied. “I need access to the records of Yelor.”

“Return to your vessel!” The biped repeated, raising a spear.

“I’m invoking the rite of power, I wish to challenge you for your title.” Thiol stared down the biped.

The biped stuck the butt of the spear into the ground in front of him. “That law has not been in effect for generations, as it lead to nothing but strife. If you wish to prove your intentions, then you must help us. Then, I will grant you access to the hall of histories.”

[Next Part]

(Art credit: WordPress Free Photo Library)