AEGIS: (IC) RP by Addix

Countless millennia ago, when the distant galaxy, Malis, was young, but not innocent, evil thrived in the darkness of it's cosmos. It rode atop the blistering celestial winds and skulked within the shadowy nebulae, waiting for the last instant to strike.

During the galaxy's childhood, the races of Malis were at peace with one another, fortified by the solitude of friendship. Crime and inhospitality were practically non-existent. The galaxy emitted a peaceful hum of balance to all who listened. This undisturbed equilibrium lay active for centuries.

Until it reared it's dark heart.

From the collosal, gaping maw of the central wormhole that overlooked the galaxy emerged an entity, a being of heartlessness and cruelty. It's shadowy aura dominated the fresh and new galaxy with it's demonic embrace, spreading hatred and unrest. The dark being ruled the galaxy through unquestioned force. It's very presence brought agony and fear to those who would look upon it. Those who would defy the entity perished in an Armageddon of dark fire. It's might was unmatched, undefeated. However, time told the departure of one malicious foe in exchange for another.

The origins of evil that Malis now embraces once originated from the very clutches of the shadowy deity itself. Haarth was the first planet to feel the true might of the being's presence. The omnipotent dusk transformed the ill-fated planet into a world of disease and anguish. Never did the planet see the caring hands of life again. Harrth became barren and scarred; a wasteland of ash and dust. The echoes of life that once roamed throughout the planet were now silenced. However, all of this destruction was not all for naught. From the depths of Harrth's rotting skin emerged colonies of bewitched and tortured creatures, composed entirely of flesh and machine. Their hearts beat with the very shadows of the entity that created their foul presence. They were cold, unfeeling...and hungered for destruction. The Necrid had been born. The demonic deity proceeded to spread it's vile creations throughout Malis, through every solar system, through every planet and nebulae, through every gas giant, in order to consume all sentient life into it's kin.

Many millennia passed. The Necrid war machine continued with their loathsome conduct. Their numbers grew a thousandfold each sunrise as they persisted to infect the once peaceful species of Malis. Their grotesque empire was undefeated and unconquered. Their fleets of hybrid vessels corrupted and even destroyed entire planets, all at the will of the perverse god. Hundreds upon hundreds of space-faring civilizations challenged the might and power of the Necrid, only to perish and be consumed in a dark hell-fire.

The cold phantom that once breathed life into the Necrid empire was slowly dying, petrifying with three thousand years of age. It's task had been fulfilled. Choosing one Necrid above all others, Sartan, the entity gave the Necrid the attributes of the phantom; to control the Necrid as a hive-minded colony, bonded by one single thought. With the new power at Sartan's claws, the Necrid grew corrupt just like it's predecessor. It was mutated into an embodiment of Necrid and darkness. Sartan's reign of dread and terror stuck fear and dismay into the hearts of all who spoke it's name.

Untold centuries passed when an ancient organization was given the gift of rebirth: The Omnipotent Council, a composition of majesty and order. The Garth War, The Rebellion of the Xeractile and The Desist of the Chittin Genocide; all events prevented by the Omnipotent Council. Their valiant efforts were renowned throughout the galaxy. Alas, they had not restored problems such as this before, not as grand of a scale. Crippled by the consistent Necrid assaults, the council assembled the hierarchs from the acclaimed species of the galaxy to settle an agreement: to arbitrate and centralize on the Necrid that now threatened all sentient life in the galaxy. AEGIS was formed.

The council hierarchs chose one being to lead this allegiance. Cirrus, a xerian, became the first Council Vanguard in known history. He fought bravely against the vile Necrid threat, commanding his fleet with honour and distinction. His will and determination brought the Necrid to the edge of their demise as he sliced his way though the infected Necrid planets and towards the galaxy's core, towards the Necrid's planetoid home world: The Hive. Unbeknownst to the valiant Vanguard, the notorious Sartan was laying in wait, anxious to strike at the xerian fleet when it's guard was at it's lowest. Cirrus' heroic deeds were short lived.

Corrupted with vengeance and spite, Sartan pushed his way through what was left of the Necrid empire towards the xeria's home world. The dark Necrid's fleet blotted out the two suns that once gave the planet life and bounty. The spiteful being burned the entire planet, leaving nothing but glass, ash and echoes of a once majestic civilization. The galaxy fell into an eerie silence. No news of the Necrid empire had been heeded for hundreds of years.

Much time has passed.
Evil has returned.




All of this rich history had been forgotten for centuries. The abominable Necrid had vanished into story and folklore among the beings of the galaxy, unheard of for as long as time would tell. The stories of their cruelty were used as tall tales to frighten the offspring of many species.

Among the thousands of races that now inhabited the galaxy, the nocturnal beings of the darkened planet, Lutetia, were among those who reputed that the Necrid never existed in history. Their culture believed in the Necrid as much as they did in the paranormal; nothing but stories, just echoes and hearsay. The 'Nocturni', as their species were named, thrived in perpetual darkness, their home world was forever shaded in the blanket of night. They had grown up in the comfort of the celestial starlight; evolved in a planet without sunrise or sunset. The stars above that covered the sky were their only natural source of light.

The evening was warm and humid, thick with the dust of the barren deserts that surrounded a towering city that reached up into the sky. It's metal and concrete arms could almost touch the darkened clouds and brilliant stars that dominated the heavens. The streets were brimming with Nocturni commuters, their ability for work had never been much higher. They swarmed around the foot of an extravagant building. Tallest of all, the other structures that encircled it were diminished by it's grand spire that stretched up through the clouds. The many transport and trade routes used this gargantuan piece of architecture as a focal point of their departure and arrival. High atop the massive spire lay a single, bulbous chamber. Atmospheric gravity lifts swiftly interchanged between the main body of the building to this section as clouds surrounded it. This was the central heart of the vast city.

A figure stared out of the glass window of the chamber, over the clouds and up to the winking stars of the twilight sky. He was elaborately dressed, his formal suit glimmered with adornments to show his status. Blinking electronics surrounded the ceilings and reflected off his jewellery. He wore a long emerald cloak over his right shoulder that brushed the tiled floor of the room.

The mechanical door towards the middle of the circular deck blinked with a faint yellow light. It made a soft groan and split apart to reveal a second Nocturni figure. The being's form was slightly more elegant than that of the first, it was dressed in a white formal suit and a long dress sprawled from it's hips, covering it's two, double-jointed, chitinous legs. It spoke to the figure that stared out of the view port.
'Here are the forms you needed, Sir.' It said, it's voice at a soft, feminine tone.
'Very good, Sandra.' said the more masculine figure in a gruff fashion.
He took a small device from her two-fingered hands into his. He pressed a small, single red button located around the side and held it up with his arm outstretched. The device floated free of his palm, hovered for three seconds and winked a soft blue. It expanded into a glowing holographic screen. Data flowed into view, much of the data on the city's status- economic regularity, weather patterns and classified military documents. He viewed it closely; everything seemed to be in order. He pressed the small button once more and it shrank back into it's small form. It dropped back into his hand, then he stuffed it into his pocket for later examination.
'Thank you, Sandra,' he said to her. 'carry on.'
'Yes, Artemis.' Sandra bowed her head and exited the room through the elevator door.

Once Sandra had gone, Artemis picked the device out from his pocket again and rolled it around in his fingers, glancing, for a moment, at it's mechanics.
'We've come a long way.' he thought to himself as his bulbous, dark eyes drew towards the stars above the city.
They glimmered and blinked as if the night were an elaborate dance. Calm white light filled the observation deck as the two moons of Lutetia came into view from behind a shifting cloud. Artemis was filled with a soft serenity at the view and slumped down into his large leather-like chair. He sighed. A blink of light flickered in the distant atmosphere and faded into the darkness of the sky. Artemis thought nothing of it. He leaned back into his chair and examined the device Alesia had given him. It was a tiny, pocket-sized contraption, capable of displaying vast amounts of information. It brimmed with small electronics and wires that covered the inside microchips that powered it.

The speaker situated on top of his desk suddenly erupted violently and the dins of voices of his own panicked species echoed around the room.
'Sir! We've picked up some unusual atmospheric disturbance near your location. You may want to take a look at it.' the being on the other end of the speaker said with the essence of authority thick in his voice.
Artemis lurched up from his seat and responded to the call almost immediately. He pressed his claw down onto the button in front of the speaker to open up the COM channel. What was the commander on the other end talking about? Normally the sky of Lutetia was filled with an eerie calm; nothing to be anxious about. Artemis responded, despite his irritated thoughts.
'What are you talking about, commander? 'Atmospheric Disturbance'?'
He eagerly awaited the reply, leaning over the desk, claw still making contact with the switch. He hoped for an immediate response, but instead, he received an uneasy five second silence before the speaker sounded once again.
'Sir, look out of your window.' came the response.

Artemis rushed over the view port as fast as his digitigrade legs could carry him, expecting to see devastation, the sky ripping apart at the seams and a burning fire of Armageddon engulf the night.
He saw nothing but the pair of brilliant moons and the blinking blanket of stars; stars which shone brightly like the sunlight. Another wink of light appeared in the sky. Artemis looked up towards the space between the moons where he had saw the glimmer. Nothing.

A sudden strange rippling of sky formed from where the shimmering star had once been. The weather upon Lutetia was regularly humid; stars were a commonplace to see in the sky and never before had he, or any inhabitant on the planet seen such an anomaly like this. He peered at it closely through the window. How was this possible? Was this some kind of a gravitational exception? 'It couldn't be.' he mumbled to himself.

The rippling aberration grew larger. The ripples became much more vigorous. Artemis scampered back to the speaker and pressed the COM button once again. Anxiousness grew thick in his voice.
'Status!' he barked through to the other side.
The reply of the commander came, along with many other members of his platoon chattering in the background. The uproar almost drowned out Artemis' trail of thought.
'We can't detect any life signs, Sir. Nor can we find any electrical patterns.' he paused before finally speaking again. 'This anomaly is completely unknown to us.'
Artemis thumped his fist down in anger onto the hard wooden desk sprawled out in front of him and dominating the entire chamber.

A low rumble shook the room. The very tiles lining the floor vibrated with the disturbance. The lights flickered slightly as sparks jumped from them.
Aberration opened. The billowing space grew into a gaping maw. Blue-white energy filled the open wound, shining through into Lutetia's dim atmosphere.

The observation deck windows gave way and shattered, raining broken glass shards around the room. The winds of Lutetia rushed in, roaring past Artemis' head fiercely.

A blinding white light filled the deck very briefly. Artemis shielded his eyes from the rays, his vision obscured by the, now ablaze, hole in space-time. The flash ceased. The whole room was now completely dark, illuminated only by the aberration and the stars. Artemis cautiously made his way back to his feet and took his palms from his face. 

An ominous object burst through the gaping hole, plummeting towards Lutetia like a meteorite. It was alight with mysterious, burning white fire that originated from the atmospheric rupture. It accelerated towards the ground rapidly slicing it's way through vicious winds and whispers of clouds. 

Something was unusual about this unidentified mass; it was changing it's course of free-fall. It directed itself towards the emptiness of the humid, barren desert surrounding the city and impacted the dust-ridden ground in the distance, sending a sheet of dust high into the air and sending out a roaring shock wave that tore through the desert...then the city. Glass shattered from the many mirrored windows of titanic structures from within the civilization boundaries and showered the busy streets below.
The wave hit Artemis' location, causing the pinnacle of his large tower to shimmy, knocking him off of his feet.

It was unclear from the towers' location, but it came to a stop, leaving a glowing trail of burning sand behind it.

Everything fell into silence. All that could be heard were alarms screaming throughout the city, civilians panicking and uproars through the COM channel debating what the object that plummeted from the heavens was.
Artemis lay on the tiled floor amidst the varied debris from the ceiling of his observatory deck. Sparks emitted from fibre-optic wires that once lined the walls and the elaborate tiles were upturned and out of place.

Artemis lay still on his side for a few minutes before finally coming to. He coughed and sputtered from the now dusty atmosphere in the room. He clambered to his feet and steadily made his way over to the COM radio. It had been alive with static-induced voices for a while now. He couldn't quite make out what it was saying, but it was enough.
'Sir! Are y~~ ~~~~~. Are you sti~~ a~~ve?!'
He leaned over on his desk, his lungs still full with debris and pressed the COM pad with a shaking finger.
'I'm still here,' he sputtered 'What's our status?'
The static cleared. 'The object passed right over the boundaries, Sir. It hit the surface two miles ahead of us.'
'Any casualties?'
'Three, Sir. Two injured from the shock wave.'
It could have been much worse- but three dead was bad enough.
'Send in a squad,' he barked over the channel 'I want you to investigate that object; see what it is, where it came from.'
'Aye, Sir.' crackled the response.
The channel closed."

"We've been in this bucket for a week now. Are you sure we're going the right way?" Baelan snorted and shook out his ruff, turning an ear back to where his sister had curled up. Ever since they'd left their Tribal territory to attempt forging their way in the outside galaxy, Baelan and his littermate Faeryn had taken turns sleeping and watching the ship. His sister's eyes had just opened, indicating she was done with a sleep cycle.

Faeryn didn't answer for a moment, stepping off the woven brush mat she slept on and stretching out her lean body. With her deep red fur, graceful form, and glossy coat, when she was old enough to breed, the female Anthra would invite stiff competition from males who would want to sire kits off of her. The chocolate coated Baelan was a sturdy specimen as well, but he had failed to win a mate that year, as many young males did.

When her stretching was done, Faeryn made her way to the front of the tiny shuttle, moving over the cold metal like a desert wind with her tails streaming behind her. She simultaneously noticed the myriad readings on the controls and the look of impatience on her sibling's face.

"No," she answered him at last. "But we should be coming on something soon."

Baelan grumbled, setting his chin on the lip of the control panel and letting out a huff that clouded the screen momentarily. "Why did I let you talk me into coming on this fool's errand? You know as well as I do that the only Anthra that have gone to the outside galaxy and made it back came back shattered husks. And neither Oschiva expedition made it back at all."

Faeryn's ears flattened. "The ones that came back were from other clans. They aren't as strong as the Oschiva," she told her twin firmly, repeating clan dogma that he knew as well as she did. "And no expedition has gone out from the Narel tribe. Our clansmen may have already made a good impression for us out in the open galaxy."

"Or they might just have been eaten. Anthra fur is a prized commodity, no reason Anthra meat shouldn't be, as well." Baelan shied away suddenly as his sister turned to give him a solid nip on the shoulder.

"I don't know why I even let you come with me," the female grumbled. Baelan didn't get a chance to retort; lights started flashing, indicating it was time to come out of faster than light mode and return to normal space. Faeryn clambered into her chair, pressing a few controls, while Baelan pulled a few levers.

Around them, the shimmering expanse that they'd been going through stopped, then collapsed, and a planet was visible through the view screen. The male Anthra's ears flickered back and forth. "Faer...this planet's on fire. Maybe we should pick the next one." But his sister wasn't listening; she already had them approaching the planet with a little rim of flames around a charred dot.

"It's just a little of it," she retorted. "I'll land us somewhere we won't have to deal with it."

"Faer..."

"We need to succeed, Baelan," she reminded her brother firmly. "If we don't, in two years there will be no more prey in our lands." And the clans that abutted them would fight tooth and claw to keep them in the barren land they'd inhabited for thousands of years. There wasn't any choice...their lands were dying, as well.

Lieutenant Maverick, the leader of the squad and a highly recognized soldier among the ranks of the Nocturni military, slid open the side of his sleek, dirt-coloured reconnaissance vehicle. It was a bulky craft, yet it showed slender curves that arched from it's rear to it's front anti-gravity pads that made the entire vehicle hover. He lifted the side door and stepped out. The Lieutenant wore standard Nocturni , black militant overalls and stiff boots that were crafted to shape the Nocturni's three-toed feet. Medals and stripes ornamented the left side of his chest, complimenting his feats in battle and a tight, black cap encased the top of his pale, leathery-skinned head.

A huge crater sprawled out in front of him and greeted the Lieutenant, along with the other vehicles that now hovered along beside his transport once they had came to a stop. Maverick stared in disbelief at the crater; it had looked so much smaller while he was back at the preparation docks, eyeing it through the video feedback of various flying Nocturni craft that broadcast the large ditch to all available channels.

Maverick held up his right clawed palm and made a subtle 'come here' action with it- a signal for the other craft's crew to approach the crater on foot. The doors of the vehicles behind Maverick hissed open and released figures much like that of the Lieutenant; they also wore black military overalls, but their faces were concealed behind orange-tinted visors and armoured helmets that matched their dark clothing.
The crowd of soldiers cautiously approached and drew their weapons, plasma-based firearms with sleek designs similar to that of the hover crafts, and holstered them into their shoulders as if by instinct.
Private Derius, the first of the soldiers to step forward from the crowd, stood next to Maverick, who was gazing down into the deep crater absent-mindedly . His stare was fixed on something in the depths of the huge crater.
'Lieutenant?'
Maverick seemed to ignore this while his gaze was still stubbornly attached down to the crater.
Derius soon followed suit as he surveyed the bottom of the hole. He saw what the Lieutenant was so hooked with; the burning and broken wreckage of an unknown vessel.

Debris fanned out from the centre with a shattered carcass of a huge ship as it's epicentre. Derius had never seen such a craft like this before; it was elaborately designed with luminous, sapphire lights glowing from it's innards like a heartbeat and the sheer length of the craft could have been estimated to be near 80 meters.
Sleek, curvaceous wings reached out from the sides of it's hull, though the extravagance of them was disrupted by the busted and cracked remains of the wing's tip.
What were presumed to be engines extended from it's rear, still smoking from the impact and glimmering a faint blue light. Gaping holes that were outlined with searing hot molten metal peppered the thruster's surfaces; it appeared to be plasma fire that had caused this severe damage.

'We've found the cause.' Lieutenant Maverick said over the COM, apparently awake from his concentrating slumber.
'What is it?' replied a crackling voice from the other side.
Maverick glanced back down towards the mysterious ship. Perhaps someone may still be alive from within the ship's bowels, but was it worth risking his entire squad to search for presumably injured survivors? What if it's inhabitants were not friendly? Maverick could only hope, for now.
He pinged the channel and said, 'It appears to be a ship.'
'Does it have the Nocturni insignia on it? Is it one of ours?'
It certainly didn't look like it from where Maverick was standing. Nocturni space craft were streamlined, jet black and shaped like a vertical C. This unusual vessel was flat, smooth and wide with most of it's width complimented by it's glistening wings.
He needed to find out more about this abstruse vessel.
'Unknown yet, but my men and I will search the wreckage for any remaining survivors. We'll find out what they might have to say about this catastrophe.'
He flicked the COM off and signalled his men.

OOC: Sorry for the long wait. Writer's block. >.< Anyway, here it is.

IC:

"Oschiva's Wings, you are cleared for landing. Please be prepared to accompany medical staff to the nearest facility upon touchdown." The foreign voice rang hollowly, scentlessly, from the speaker situated in the middle of the control panel.

Baelan let out a low growl, leaning toward the speaker as though the menacing gesture would in any way intimidate the alien on the end of the line that was completely blind to him and his razor sharp teeth. "Why in the barrens would we -"

Faeryn spoke over him, her voice calmer than her brother's, but her twitching tail tips and ears belied her anxiety at the intentions of these xenos. "Base, please explain."

"We simply need to examine you to make sure that you carry no parasites or illnesses that would be dangerous to our population. After we have ascertained that, you will be released to continue whatever business brings you to Lutetia."

Faeryn's right ear flicked toward her brother as she turned her attention to him. His ears were tilted back in agitation and the flesh above his front teeth had been pulled back, baring a gleaming set of razor-sharp fangs; the first xeno to try and touch him would inevitably discover why the Anthra were the top predators on their home world. Faeryn shared his anxiety; no one on their planet knew how outsiders treated their kind, just that the few explorers who made it back had not been fit for survival on their home planet afterward.

But those survivors had come back to their Clans in such terrible condition that word had spread beyond ancient territorial borders and all across their world, which was almost unheard of. Survivors weren't typically away from their people for more than a revolution, or half of the outside galaxy's "Standard Units." This was the first planet they had come to. Who knew if it had been responsible for the breaking down - and ultimate deaths - of other members of their race?

"Oschiva's Wings, do you copy?" The long, tense silence from the tiny Anthra shuttle had prompted another burst of communication from the disembodied voice, and both siblings turned their ears toward the speaker.

This time Baelan held his tongue, waiting for his cannier twin to take the lead. Her tails twitched uncertainly, but she held her ears erect, as though that would be able to portray a false sense of confidence to their handler. The chocolate-coated male couldn't help but notice that her fingers tapped out a silent rhythm on the panel, a nervous habit she'd always had.

"We copy, base. We are approaching Lutetian atmosphere now, we will land in approximately ten minutes. Oschiva's Wings out." A flick of a slender hand shut the speaker off, and Baelan bristled, actually turning his body toward his sister.

"Faer, what do you think you-"

The female laid her ears back flat against her head, and her sibling quieted abruptly, ears tilting back in annoyance - but also in submission. Faeryn, the smarter one, the one that could always figured everything out, had long been the dominant of the two siblings, and her brother wasn't going to be able to shake that over a disagreement about where to land their space dart.

"The next star system will probably take just as long to reach. We don't have that much food, Baelan." She started flipping switches, and with a grunt, he put his broad hands on the controls he was supposed to be monitoring.

"Just have a plan ready if they decide to try anything."

"I'm already working on one," was the quiet reply.

They landed with a soft bump, and the hatch at the back hissed with soft suspicion at the new world it was opening to. The ramp creaked down slowly, and with their ears twitching and bright multi-faceted eyes glittering, searching for any sign of trouble, they stepped out of the small, fragile vessel that had served as their protection from the frozen emptiness of space and method of escaping their home atmosphere.

Somehow the dark world that surrounded them maintained a warmth and humidity to support life, and the twins tensed slightly at the sudden lack of light. Their world was well-lit, with the star Adelpho baking the ground during the day and the moons, the violet Letras and his mate, the pale blue Varel, lighting up the night.

There was no violence at that particular moment, although there were armed guards. The two Anthra were simply escorted into the back of a small overland vehicle and taken into the most advanced, most secure facility in that particular area.

Things didn't get heated until one medic, examining Baelan in the same way she would an animal, was turned upon by the large male. Blood, the rich, bitter blood of a sapient being, flowed freely from the bite wound. The examiner was taken away and tended to. The male Anthra, on the other hand, was injected with a powerful sedative.

When Faeryn, who had borne her examination with an irate patience, was shown her subdued brother, she sighed and left his room. If he was going to sleep, she was going to explore. She abandoned the awkward and unbalanced bipedal stance for the more comfortable four-footed gait that had carried her across endless miles of her tribe's rocky territory. If she needed to be tall, she would rear back up onto her hind legs...but for now, she trotted easily through the sterile halls, hoping she'd find a scent more interesting than bleach.

Dalajehu Ra-baseka never spied on anyone. Why would he? Such action was disgusting and irresponsible, and as the Chancellor of the Supreme Republic of Agahu, he knew better.

However, the inner workings of galactic politics were of high importance to him. The Yesiphu were a young race - they had only been in space for a century or so, and had only one other colony in the Shebruku system. As such, the Yesiphu were truly at a disadvantage. Their army, though determined, was small, their exports were few. Thus, Agahu was neither feared nor loved by the rest of the galaxy. Meanwhile, the Yesiphu birth rate was higher than ever before, bringing a new generation of soldiers and merchants but depleting what little food and resources they had. The Yesiphu had never been more powerful in their history, but Dalajehu saw how exposed their weaknesses were to the rest of the universe. That would not do - weakness was not befitting the Yesiphu or their Chancellor.

So when Dalajehu had Lutetia's surveillance system hacked and bugged and wired to his people's own satellites, it wasn't espionage. It was evening out the playing field.

"Any news regarding the Nocturni colonization plans?" asked the gravelly-voiced Chancellor to an inferior whose name he had never bothered to learn.

"None, sir."

Dalajehu grumbled under his breath. The Nocturni weren't his enemies, to be sure, but they were far from being his friends. They barely had contact with each other, but occasionally bickered over colonial issues. Their very existence was unnerving. How could such a dreary, light-bereft race gain so much power, while the valiant, noble Yesiphu had none? It was not right. Since ages immemorial, the avian Yesiphu struggled against the harsh deserts of their world. They wanted - no, needed - something greater, and Dalajehu considered himself to be the answer to all his ancestors' wishes.

"In that case," he said, drumming his talons on the floor, winged arms folded behind his back, "Is there anything noteworthy occurring on that depressing planet of interest?"

"Slightly."

"Slightly? What do you mean, slightly?"

"Well, sir," said the underling, "The Nocturni have intercepted two ships. One is Oschiva's Wings, containing what appear to be two Anthra. Status yet to be confirmed, but for now they're classified as refugees."

"Anthra?" pondered the Chancellor aloud, "That doesn't sound particularly important. Still, they are an endangered species, so perhaps we ought to keep an eye on them. Low priority, though. Now, what of the other ship?"

The underling tapped away at the surveillance computer. "No identification given," he said, "It crashed into Lutetia only hours ago, and has not given any identification. Investigation is underway."

Dalajehu cocked a brown, feathery eyebrow. "Is that all you wish to inform me of? I don't see the significance - ships get lost and crash all the time."

If Yesiphu sweated, the underling would have been drenched. Dalajehu certainly was an imposing Yesiphu. He was old, but he still stood tall and upright, "Well - ah - you see... there's something different about this ship. Look at the design."

Dalajehu peered at the monitor than dominated the surveillance room and was taken aback. The ship, though slightly charred, was breathtaking. It was so smooth, so sleek, with magnificent white bird wings. It was so beautiful, and somehow, so familiar.

"I wonder..." muttered Dalajehu under his breath. It was time to draw up a few plans.

-----

Talgahu Ra-baseka lay sprawled out on a sand dune several miles away, his elongated head cushioned by his arms, taking in the hot desert sun. He never worried about trade routes, colonies, and interstellar crises; his mind wandered to the talonball tournament he wanted to see with a few friends, what he was going to eat later that day, and the hot Yesiphu girl he had met in the bar the other night. To any onlooker, he was just a lazy Yesiphu, his only redeeming quality was that he was very handsome for his species. In truth, he was the Chancellor's son and Herald of Agahu, as proven by the sun emblem on his breastplate and faulds which he always wore and by the intricate bronze band around his toned (and feathery) right arm. His role was mostly symbolic: he would represent his father in whatever few meetings he had with foreign diplomats. He also had some military training, and once led a successful raid against a rebellion. Most of the time, he just sat back and enjoyed the decadent pleasures of being the son of the planet's most powerful man.

This morning, however, would prove to be different when Talgahu received a message from his father on his wrist communicator.

"Talgahu..." said a powerful, but aged voice, "Do you read me?"

The Herald smirked and did not reply. He enjoyed annoying the hell out of his old man.

"You little... TALGAHU!"

Talgahu laughed, running a clawed hand through his long crest, "Sorry, father. I'm just taking a rest."

"Well, now is not the time. I am at the Agahu Intelligence Center. Come here at this moment."

The public transport ship was moving slow, way too slow. It was dirty, noisy, and overcrowded. River wondered how anyone could live like this, but the evidence was right in front of his eyes. He shifted in the stiff-backed chair of the lower class deck. Five weeks, five agonizing and irritating weeks, it took from the tiny satellite planet of Arhel in the mediary galaxy of Dehens to the Nocturni planet of Lutetia, in the nearly unknown galaxy of Malis.

"Prepare for disembarkation," the captain’s voice echoed throughout the massive ship, speaking in the rough Trade speak, almost all races knew it. "Estimated time until arrival: ten minutes."

River gathered his few belongings and waited eagerly to get off this rust bucket. Of course he didn’t have his weapons on him, he’d have to get a license from the Port Authority when the ship landed. The ten minutes did not last long.

Noise, noise, and more noise. Hustling and bustling was this major port. It was only a small piece of what went on outside in the main part of the Nocturni capital. The crystalline walls stretched endlessly around, showing the twilit planet’s city beyond. The movement was nearly overwhelming, but River had been to enough crowded planets and cities to keep his cool.

The Port Authority was, as the name implies, within the port itself. River walked purposefully through the main foyer of the space port, amid stares of curious passersby. This was unsurprising, he was most likely the first human to visit this planet, maybe even the galaxy.

Indeed, he found out soon enough as he walked up to the Port Authority office. The Nocturni woman sitting behind the desk looked shocked to see him. Of course, his appearance was strange, let alone being of a race rarely seen outside their sheltered corner of the Universe.

“State your name and business,” accompanied the Nocturni woman’s surprised response at River’s eccentric appearance.

“Salve, Madam. I require mine armatus. River Arrowheart est nomen mei,” he replied, smoothly transitioning between the rough trade burr and the near sing-song language that Latin embodied.

If she had not been frazzled before by his physical state, his mastery of language would certainly have done so, “Y-yes, I have your information right here.” A holo-screen proclaimed River’s full name, picture, any known aliases, well, just about everything there was to know about him.

“You will give me a license for mine armatus?” He asked, this time varying between her native tongue and Latin.

The poor Nocturni woman was nearly in hysterics over River’s silver-tongue, “I-I will most definitely sign them immediately.”

It seemed that the woman only wanted to be rid of this strange human youth with the witty tongue as quickly as possible. The proper legal papers were signed, stamped, and notarized within minutes. River soon had his items of most value to him: his pistol and his rifle.

As soon as River turned away, the Port Authority Officer closed the office early. It wasn’t exactly River’s intention to frazzle nearly every person he met with his words, he was merely using what was taught to him. So, it could be thought that he was blissfully unaware of the consternation he caused with most people.

“Oi, you! Freak!” A lazy, drawl, heavy with some unknown accent called him in the rough Trade burr from his wandering thoughts.

“Quid?” He turned to find not one, but five dark strangers of indiscernible race eyeing him as if he were a meal ticket, or maybe a meal?

The leader’s sharp teeth glittered in the gathering darkness of the streets, “What’s a pretty leetle human doin’ down here?”

“Wandering around. Videtur sights, you know.” River’s reply was cool, calm, even.

“Oh, really, now?” A sinister chuckle rippled through the dark thieves, for thieves they were, as they surrounded him. “What if we just happen to keep you from wandering ever again?” At this, the leader drew a wicked-looking laser-rifle from within the folds of his cloak, and the others drew less-imposing, but still dangerous, laser-pistols.

“Ita, time ego bachurat magni!” What he yelled was basically gibberish, even in Latin. Loosely translated, it meant something along the lines of: ‘Yes, fear my huge stick!’

In the few stunned nano-seconds that followed, River drew both his pistol and his rifle in each hand. He fired two deadly shots from the rifle before they shot him in the right hand. Two more did his pistol take before that, too, was shot from his left-hand. He fell to his knees, apparently in pain and defeat.

“You are a worthy adversary, human, but I still have bested you!” The leader laughed maniacally as he charged the laser-rifle.

“Ubi est craniuus?” Something that meant, ‘where is your head?’, was uttered from River’s mouth, obviously having finally lost his mind completely when Death reached out His hand.

The sound of a laser-blast rang forth from the alley and throughout the surrounding streets, accompanied with the sound of gurgling and a dull thunk.

Worried passersby investigated the sounds, finding a horrid scene: A grievously wounded human manchild surrounded by the bodies of the locally notorious “Reapers” gang, the head of one Jarnuk the Reaper, the leader of said gang, sitting in this manchild’s lap.

'CO2 emitters!' Mavrick cried out as the blazing fire surrounding the ship's small docking pad reached out for the squad members, attempting to scold them out of life.

They had reached the ship's corpse. It reclined and sprawled out in front of them, ever more did the fire engulf the extravagant vessel's body. Sparks launched their selves from the docking bay door, starting yet more small fires that spread into seemingly unstoppable rages of red and yellow.
The squad members in front of Maverick grasped for the seemingly sizeable weapons located on their backs. The firearms were hefted over the heads of the group and came to a stop in front of them. Held by two hands, they were jet black and bore a small canister-like protrusion based at the rear end of the weapon. The handles, which were now gripped by the Nocturni's livid-skinned hands, were both located on the upper side and backside. The weapon resembled something of a Human-made flame thrower. What they say as 'CO2 emitters were really just fire extinguishers in weapon form.
'Fire!' Maverick shouted, throwing his arm towards the sprawling flames.
The squad let loose their weapons, unleashing an ashen-like substance and suffocating the angry blaze.
The inferno dimmed and shrank until there was nothing left of them but ash and scolded metal.
Maverick held up his hand for a ceasefire and his squad members holstered their extinguishers abaft. The Lieutenant was the first to step towards the ash covered entrance, planting a foot atop the slanted pad leading up towards the belly of the vessel.
It didn't feel right. The Lieutenant was more used to feeling the cold, metal floor of his own ship. This vessel, however, was warm and polished a pale grey, minus the charred spots, but the heat could have just been from the searing flames earlier. He felt more at home on a Nocturni craft. He banished his trail of thought, he wasn't going to let mere feelings interfere with his mission.
Maverick signalled his squad to move inwards, inside the broken ship.




The interior wasn't what the Lieutenant, or any of the squad had expected. The docking bay was smaller than anticipated; enough to fit at least two small Nocturni fighter ships side-by-side.
Pearly-white pillars arched up from the metal floor and touched the ceiling, overlooking a small, circular platform about two meters in diameter and inconsiderably elevated above the floor. Slanted walkways circled it, leading gently down towards the ground.
Maverick surveyed the area as sparks flew from exposed electrical cable that protruded from deep wounds along the walls. If there were survivors they would have been able to see them; the bay was very plain and devoid of any docked vessels.
'No survivors so far, Commander.' The Lieutenant voiced over the COM.
'Keep searching,' came the response. 'there's bound to at least a few bodies on board.'
Maverick replied with, 'Aye, sir.' before he switched the COM off once again.
Maverick and his team moved swiftly through the chamber before coming to an elongated hallway. Lined with various fractured, sparking tubes and pipes along the ceiling, it extended at least thirty meters through the length of the vessel. Azure lights trailing down the hallway flickered nervously, temporarily darkening the hallway before lighting up up a split second later and imitating the anxious band of Nocturni that passed underneath them.
Derius, who was following sheepishly behind the Lieutenant, didn't like this atmosphere at all; the almost complete silence, the dimness of the passage and the sheer eeriness of this place made his defined Nocturni spine tingle. He knew from his training that places like these were perfect places for unpredictable ambushes. Who knows what creatures could be lurking inside the belly of the vessel?
They turned an extremely poorly-lit corner to the broken remains of what seemed to be a once curvaceous door. Arching in a semi-circular shape, it's many access panels were sparking with fluctuating holographic, similar to those in the B-Sector intelligence court found in the Nocturni's major city. Only half of the door remained, granting access to the dark room beyond.
A hand print flashed forward before the Lieutenant's bulbous eyes. Maverick examined it- odd, two, slender fingers and one opposable thumb.
Maverick glanced up towards the chamber before him and gestured to his troops. They moved in swiftly and silently like the blackness of the night they were accustomed to. He angled his gun level with his shoulder and surveyed the area. His men did the same.
It was elongated like the first corridor but with many differences; It was lined with holographic control panels that rippled wildly like the holographic hand print. They lit up the chamber only vaguely, but this was enough for the nocturnal beings to see.
Chairs were lined up neatly in front of the panels and evenly spaced- at least twelve of them; six on each side.
From what he could see, the Lieutenant could only assume this was the bridge of the dying ship.
Maverick called out in desperation to retrieve survivors.
'Hello'?
Only the faint sound of sparks shocking from the wires powering the bridge's holograms could be heard. The rest was just deafening silence.
He raised his voice slightly hoping for a withered response.
'Are there any survivors here?'
Again, he was drowned out by the muteness and the faint glimmer or pearly armour in the distance.
Wait, was that a survivor?
The Lieutenant almost immediately gestured to his men and rushed forward with his gun at ease; if there were unfriendly beings in the vessel, he and his men would have been attacked by now.
Their three-toed footsteps clanked over the metal-grated walkway towards the main command seat where Maverick first saw the gentle glisten.
An incoming COM message interrupted the moment and a crackled voice sounded from the other side.
'Sir, there's been some commotion here in Port District 2. Casualties have ensued, four of them and one injured.'
The voice sounded panicked and uneasy, but the Lieutenant could do nothing more than simply send aid. He had to finish his mission and recover this survivor, providing it was still concious.
'Send in a pair of Medicraft, have them take the injured one to the Medical Bay for treatment and questioning.
'Aye, sir.'
The channel clicked off.

The main command chair was situated in front of a wide array of holographic system monitors and star maps. They glowed a bright cyan that filled the chair and it's surroundings.
Though, it was who, or what, that was in the chair that took their suprise.
A slender frame lay perfectly still in the ship's throne-like seat. It was pale, bearing a slight hint of indigo around what they presumed to be it's forehead, which sprouted flat, plate-like appendages, angling back towards the top of it's scalp. Running the length of it's head, down towards it's thorax, a deep cover of midnight blue hair dominated such lengths, as if it were waves of the sea.
It's body was encased in light, silvery armour, trimmed with a tint of sapphire. Odd looking patterns embraced the various curves and arching metal plates making up the covering, as if they were some strange iconic symbols that had been long forgotten.
Maverick was unusually bewildered, he could not see how a creature like this-,so advanced in technology, could make such an erroneous mistake as to crash into a planet. Perhaps the plasma-induced holes in the main thrusters were to blame.
Maverick took the creature's slender hand into his and felt for it's pulse. Good, it was still alive, the awareness of it's heartbeat said so.
'The survivor's unconscious. Give her an Athroxin Injection.'
Athroxin was a powerful drug created by the Nocturni in 2143 to aid in reviving individuals back to conciousness within an hour. It proved wonders for the medical industry to help those blackened out during severe accidents.
A member of his group stepped forward, holding an ovular container. He opened it up to reveal a metal armature. It looked like a combination of a syringe and a handgun. A bubbling dose of purple liquid sloshed around in the transparent tube as the medic plucked it from it's casing and brought it over to the mysterious being. He pressed it against it's slender neck and pulled the trigger. The device hissed, releasing a quarter of it's violet contents into the creature.
'That should give us enough time to bring it to the Bay before it wakes. The survivor should be fully concious by the time they get it into a medical chamber.' He implied to the medic.
He continued to say over the COM, 'Medical bay, do you copy?'
A rush of static filled his speakers as an abnormally large fit of sparks burst from one of the control panels behind him.
The response finally came as, 'Read you crystal clear, Lieutenant.'
'I need a Medicart to the wreckage, immediately. I've found a survivor.'
'Already on it's way, Sir.'
'Understood. Lieutenant out.'

The harsh stench of bleach buried every other scent under a thick, sterile blanket. It was just wrong, as far as the young Anthra female was concerned, that a place with as high a population density as this Nocturni hospital should smell so hollow. Yes, underneath the burning scent of the stringent cleaning agents, there were still faint traces of organic life...but none of it spoke to Faeryn of fit members of a species. Yes, there were the scents of the healthcare workers, but their scents were less well entrenched in the building than the ill ones that had been languishing in the beds.

It seemed odd to her that anyone would dedicate so much expense to infirm members of their species, especially when they didn't recognize kinship with anyone else nearby. But that was what it meant, she supposed, to have plentiful resources. When you could only afford to feed the fittest, the ones who could contribute to feeding the pack and defending the tribe against intruders, the tough were the ones who survived, and the injured, sickly, and weak perished. Half of her own litter had perished before their third revolution, one to illness, the other to injury, and each, though a small kit, had wandered off on its own to die. That was the Anthra way. Only two more of her mother's kits had survived, but one was still young and inexperienced in the hunt and the other, a young female, was still tumbling in the dirt with other members of her age group, not old enough to accompany the scouts in search of prey. There was no guarantee for them...they might still perish, if they were not strong enough. Sixteen kits, her mother had borne. Four, so far, survived.

Mother is very strong, as must have been her mates, to have so many live this long. Only three in twenty kits usually survived long enough to produce kits of their own. Any kits Baelan sired would be hardy, so long as the females he sired them off of were fit - which was unlikely for his first few years. Young males, unproven males, were stuck breeding with weaker females until they had proven themselves. As for her...the first two or three litters she bore would be with the strongest males, since she was young and strong. As she aged and weakened, she would be replaced by other young females and find herself relegated to younger, weaker males, whose offspring would only be fit if she got lucky. If they survived to return.

A new scent, something unique, caught Faeryn's attention and interrupted her thoughts. All hunters were inquisitive by nature, it was how they learned and survived. Since she had nothing better to do - other than maybe go back to her idiot brother and watch him sleep - Faeryn lowered her nose to the cold, smooth tile to track. No such luck; the newcomer hadn't actually trod the halls. A huff and a shake of the ruff announced Faeryn's displeasure. She hated following air trails; they were much less certain, and with a place like this, where vents blew air everywhere from everywhere, there was no way of telling how close she was. All she could do was search.

A little less than an hour of searching took Faeryn to a room that was much brighter than most of the others; monitors and data feeds cast brilliant multi-colored lights on the lone female within. She didn't look like anything Faeryn had seen before; she was blue and had bony plates on her face.

The young Anthra female turned one ear forward out of curiosity, and the other ear cocked down cautiously. There was no telling what, exactly, new meant, whether this creature was potentially an ally or foe, what her kind was like with other races and whether or not she would be safe to approach. Her tails, held confidently up so they could stream behind her, curled around each other and swished slightly while she made her decision.

Finally she forced herself back up onto her hind legs and approached the stranger, each step silent save for the soft click of her back claws on the tile. She wouldn't find out anything or help her tribe if she avoided everything new.

EDITED, CORRECTED

The Lutetia port was strange to Talgahu. It was cold, much too cold for a desert-dweller, and Talgahu found his clothing was too light. On the other hand, it was filled with strange and exotic people from all corners of the galaxy, each with their own strange story to tell. Talgahu would have liked to wander around, maybe find a bar somewhere, but now was not the time to explore. His father's errand had to be accomplished...

-----

"Talgahu," said Dalajehu as he gave his son a stern look in the eye, "You have been officially my Herald for how many S.U., now?"

"Two, father," muttered Talgahu. For the short-lived Yesiphu, it felt more like seven or eight.

"Two!" Dalajehu snarled, "For two S.U., you have had the privilege of being the representative of our government and our entire blessed people, yet you have little to nothing to show for it."

"I helped put down Ujama's Uprising!" snapped Talgahu in defense.

"That was only once," groaned Dalajehu, turning his back on Talgahu and throwing his wings up in despair, "It was a year and a half ago, and Ujama had already surrendered by the time you arrived. But after that, what have you done? Nothing, my son, nothing. You have shirked off your duties for one reason or another, broken protocol by associating with commoners in parties and bars..."

"But I know a lot more about regular people than you do, now!" shouted Talgahu, "What, do you actually expect me to stay in the palace all the time? Besides, the ceremonies are boring and useless, and I still attend my classes!"

"All that I'm saying, Talgahu," Dalajehu said as calmly as he could, "is that I'm worried. My time is short, and you are my only named heir. Quite frankly, I'm worried about you. You display no initiative at all, let alone leadership skills. What will happen when I die and you take the throne as the Voice of the Sons of Yesiiph, eh? What sort of mess will you drag our people into?"

Talgahu gave him a cold stare. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

Dalajehu paused for a moment to consider what he was doing, then responded, "My son, I have a mission for you. It is a simple task, but whether you complete it or not will prove to me your loyalty and that you are able to shoulder all my responsibilities as Chancellor. You are to go to Lutetia. I will lend you the Yesiphu Royal Escort for your task - it will get you there in no time. Once you are there, I will provide you with coordinates of a certain medical center. You will claim to go there as part of a goodwill visit on my behalf. Of course," Dalajehu leaned close and looked his son directly in the eye, "that is not my primary goal."

The avian Chancellor opened a drawer and took out what looked like a metallic square with various bumps and ridges. He held it up in front of the young Herald's face.

"Once you have gained the trust of the medical staff, you are to plant this in the main office."

"Wait... is that a bug?"

"Yes. It's the finest our intelligence team has created so far. Plant it wherever you find necessary; it will change color and texture according to the surface it is attached to, so discovery will not be an issue." He slapped it down into Talgahu's palm. "If everything has gone according to plan, notify me at once. I will give you more instructions from there. Do you understand?"

Talgahu nodded warily. "Yes, father."

"Good."

As he began to leave the room, Dalajehu called to him, "Oh, and Talgahu..." Talgahu froze. "If, by any chance, you are discovered, let me be clear: do not return, for my sake, or your own."

-----

Talgahu gritted his toothed beak. He never liked the idea of Chancellorship - it sounded too tiresome, too tedious, and too cruel to others, and he hated his old man for even considering him as a successor, no matter how hard he tried to sabotage his own image. Talgahu had no idea who he was, or what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but he did not want to live under his slimy father's shadow. Then again, did he have any other choice? The old buzzard controlled the entire world and its people with an iron fist, and could off him on a whim and proper justification. It had been done before, it could happen again.

So now, he had been sent alone - as Herald, he had to show that he was perfectly capable to fend for himself, even if it meant he had no friends to commiserate with. And to make things worse, he found himself in a line at the Port Authority Office behind some hairless mammal-thing spouting suave gibberish at the secretary.

"State your name and business."

"Salve, Madam. I require mine armatus. River Arrowheart est nomen mei."

...Yesiiph's tail, what was that? Just what was this punk trying to prove, and why did he have such a weird name?

"Y-yes, I have your information right here."

"You will give me a license for mine armatus?"

Talgahu was usually a good-natured Yesiphu, even if he did have Dalajehu's moments of sarcasm. However, because of the awful mood he was in, he decided at once that he hated this babbling... thing in front of him, deciding that he was as much of a braggart and fake as his father was.

As soon as the creature left with his primitive weaponry, his "meany Amadeus" or whatever the heck he called them, the irked secretary immediately closed the office, not even listening to Talgahu's cries of "Hey, where are you going? Do you know who I am?!"

Talgahu's face sank into his claws. Now he had enough reason to hate this River Arrowheart. Talgahu swore to himself. Still, he had to find transit to the medical center his father was talking about, and began asking around when he saw a wounded Arrowheart surrounded by huge creatures with weapons.

"The Reapers!" Talgahu muttered to himself. The gang had not made itself known on Agahu, primarily because of Dalajehu's "shoot-to-kill" orders, yet they were well-known for their criminal activity in the Lutetia systems. Talgahu was ready to walk away slowly when he heard several successive blasts. He turned around.

The Arrowheart thing, though now unconscious and seriously injured and armed only with his "Amadeus" and pistol, somehow managed to kill all of his assailants, including their leader, whose battered head had been blasted clean off his shoulders. "Yesiiph..." muttered Talgahu himself. Was this hairless alien really the same one that had obstructed him in line? He had to be a great fighter... or, Talgahu decided, just very, very lucky.

Already, a team of medics had been called - Arrowheart would be ushered to the medical center, and Talgahu would follow closely behind.
"All according to plan, father," he sighed, "All according to plan."

Blackness was all she could see, a sickly state of nothingness all around her.
An eerie silence filled her ears, something she hoped would never happen again. She felt alone and vulnerable, like even a mere gust of wind could knock her off her feet and cause her demise. She ached and felt cold like she was gradually and painfully dying, but still yet so alive. It was all too surreal to take in at that one precise moment. For a split second a spine-tingling chill ripped up her chest cavity and sent her into a brief state of agony, but she quickly banished the pain.
Suddenly, raging fires flashed before her terrified eyes. Angry red flickers of heat encircled the dying city she was in.
The scolding red sky beamed down a searing green beacon, blackening and scorched the clouds above. It looked like the atmosphere itself was screaming in unbearable anguish.
It was all happening again.
A scalding inferno engulfed the once pearly-white cityscape of the xerian capital, turning it into an opera of hell-fire. It gave off a blanket of black, soot-ridden smoke and suffocated the skies above.
All this destruction, all this pain...it was unbearable.
She attempted to banish this horrid vision from her mind. It had to be a dream, it just had to.
She could hear screams of her perishing kind through the hellish blaze like a deafening pitch. She collapsed to her knees in agony on the cracked and decaying marble floor as explosions peppered the towering, ablaze citadels that reached up into the choking sky.
She shut her eyes, hoping that when she opened them once again, this dreadful visage would cease.
But when she did opened them, everything was back to the eerie black that this all started with. The darkness sliced it's way through her body, sending cold shivers through her limbs and chest.
She shivered slightly.
A spectral growl echoed it's way through the blackness and struck her ears. She turned around as fast as her body would let her. Nothingness.
The rebounding snarl gradually turned into understandable speech.
'We exist together now, two corpses in one grave... '
A terrible screech rattled her bones and a grotesque form leaped from the shadows. She turned around only to see it for a split second before it pounced her.

Her eyes snapped open and she firmly pulled up her upper body. A cold swear covered her brow and quick rasps of breath ripped through her throat. She winced as sudden pain lashed through her chest before she edged herself back to her original horizontal position. Good, she was awake, away from that horrible dream.
She had been greeted by a blinding white light attached to the ceiling of a polished chamber. She lay still in a sterile medical bed, dressed in a white gown. Her vision was hazy, she guessed she had only just come out of conciousness. All she remembered of the crash was the sound of an explosion, then a flash of light before she finally blacked out.
She looked around at the chamber she had apparently been stationed in. The floor was lined with a covering of shining blue tiles, with an occasional florescent light shining up from in-between them. The walls were polished until they glimmered from the lights across the ceiling. Of course, medical facilities such as these had to be sterile.
She was surrounded by large monitors padding the walls that flowed with data and medical feeds, presumably of her. They cast shining beams of magnificent multicoloured light towards her which scanned her form continuously.
Her attention turned towards the far wall opposite her, at a cubical large enough to fit someone in it, though it wasn't meant for humanoid occupation, it was a storage cabinet. She noticed her armour was placed inside. It was battered and bruised from the impact and scars of the accident decorated the metal plates. She was too weakened to move as she thought about the situation - Where was she? Had she been captured? If so, the beings who brought her to this place would not have given her such medical treatment.

The metallic double doors across the room etched open with a calming sigh and revealed the silhouette of a humanoid figure. It mumbled to itself incessantly as it scribbled down notes on a holographic pad gripped in it's two-fingered hand before pacing into the chamber. The doors groaned and shut behind it.
The creature was slender in form, bearing an elongated head and bulbous eyes. From it's chin sprouted thin, tentacle-like appendages. It's skin was a grim shade of greyish-blue and, atop it's forehead bore a small headpiece with a holographic emblem shining from it's mid-section, symbolizing it's authority in the medical ward.
An elegant, light cloak sprawled out behind it and drifted across the tiles slightly when it walked.
The creature gazed at her up from it's data pad as she looked back and it's mouth formed into what was considered a smile among it's species.
'I see that you're alive and well.' It sighed with relief. It's slightly higher-pitched voice echoed somewhat in the sterile room.
She didn't know how to respond. Whether this being was friend of foe was yet to be acknowledged. She simply nodded instead.
It chuckled, 'You gave us all quite a scare when you landed'. The pen it it's hand swiftly touching holographic icons on the pad, opening up files and discarding unneeded information as if it was instinct.
She summoned her confidence to talk to such a being and said, 'If you don't mind me saying, who are you? Where exactly am I?'
The being was overcome with a sudden realization that showed on his face.
'Oh! I must apologise.', it stuttered all of a sudden. 'I am Doctor Razah Olias, head of Medical Centre D12.'
The Doctor punched in a few icons on his pad, revealing what looked to be an overhead map of the Medical Centre. He turned it around and showed it to her. It looked like a labyrinth of tunnels and rooms, spread like a complicated and loose knot, with the characters 'D12' indicated above the complex map. He turned it back to himself and clicked more icons to open up another holographic window, which revealed medical data on her status before and after her arrival at D12.
'You were previously in medical stasis before you came back to conciousness, but thankfully we aided you in that by giving you a small dose of a highly concentrated liquid known to us as 'Athroxin', which seems to have worked quite well.'
He opened up another piece of text which contained what looked like x-rays.
'After the impact your rib cage had been fractured in two placed
and your thigh-bone broken. Our medical team treated you with biofoam to help your wounds heal.'
Biofoam was another success in Lutetia's medical industry. It was a pale yellow foam that aided in tissue regrowth and the rebuilding of bone material when injected into the site of injury. This proved a success in 2242 when it was tested on it's first patient.
'Other than that your escaped with bruises.' he continued 'You should consider yourself lucky, Miss...?'
'Nirani,' She replied. 'Nirani Finala T'soka.'
Razah nodded his head and jotted down her name on a medical record he had opened up on his pad. 'Miss Nirani Finala T'soka' he mumbled as his pen apparatus swiftly moved across the holographic display.
He paused and looked at her. A display of curiousness and confusion overtook his face.
'I must ask you,' he continued 'what species do you come from? I've never seen your type here on Lutetia before.'
He ran his slender fingers through his tentacled 'beard' as he waited for her reply.
'Of course. I'm a xerian' She sheepishly answered.
Razah chucked in disbelief, 'My dear, the xerians have been extinct for over one-hundred years. There can be no possible way that any of them survived after their home planet was burned.'
Nirani's face grew stern and annoyed at his mockery. She wanted to prove that she was in fact of a species long lost, but how?
'I am!' She said firmly with a raised voice 'scan me, look at samples of my DNA, anything to prove it to you.'
She had no idea what they might do to her, but judging by their hospitality, it couldn't be anything inhumane.
Razah sighed and took a sterile, white glove from a nearby dispenser 'Very well, I'll have to get a DNA sample, though...if I may?'
Nirani nodded, took a hold of a thin strand of hair from her head and plucked it out. She winced slightly as she gently placed it in Razah's gloved hand. It shimmered in the artificial light.
He walked over to a piece of apparatus that looked like a combination of a futuristic microwave and a microscope.
He took care in placing it in the centre of the small raised platform inside the machine. His fingers danced across the button pad and the hatch hissed shut, beginning a light show of blue scanners and data recorders.
'Let's see what the Galactic Database has to say about this DNA.' he said as he edged his eye towards the microscope-like apparatus.
The Galactic database was an intricate design of various satellite recording feeds and data files that could be accessed from any type of machinery like this in the Malis galaxy. It recorded any species, from any location, from any time in the it's history after the database was created and stored it in virtual files within. The Galactic Database was akin to that of Earth's 'Internet'.
Razah saw profiles and holograms flash before his eyes as the database frantically scanned through all the current species to find DNA codes that matched his sample.
A few moments passed by before the Doctor finally said, 'Well, I must admit you were right.'
A grim expression came over his face. 'But, according to the database, you are the last of your kind, am I correct?'
Nirani nodded grievously.
Razah jotted more notes down onto his pad.

'I must share this information with my colleges. I would recommend you get some rest, Miss Nirani, to let the foam do it's work. I shall check up on you later?'
'I understand' Nirani said, but not looking over to him at all. She was still in thought about what Razah had, unfortunately, reminded her of.
He walked out of the chamber, staring at his data pad in disbelief as he vanished into the corridor outside.
Nirani solemnly stared up towards the ceiling for a brief moment before closing her eyes for her well-needed rest.

Moments passed as Nirani lay still in her bed, motionless aside from the movement of her chest. Peace was all she wanted for the moment, to think about what had happened before she crashed. Before jumping into the inky blackness of slip-space, she had been violently ambushed by those creatures. She didn't even want to think aloud the name of the species that attacked her. It brought back too many horrifying memories to cope with.
Her train of through was disturbed by an unusual clicking sound, like those of claws tapping away at wooden floors, those what were in mid-walk. She heard the odd sound turn into a subtle sniff of the air...the silence.
What had come into her room? She had never heard something like this before. Then again, it wouldn't surprise her for it to be a new being. Judging from what she saw of the corridor over the shoulder of Razah, this place was full of different races from across the galaxy. Nirani braced herself and lifted up her torso, attempting to bear the slight pain that rushed through her ribs.
What she saw was an unusual being: A canine stature sat in-front of her, it's long, wild ears twitching about their surroundings, catching any sounds that could be heard. The creature was covered in a thin, magnificent coat of dark, crimson hair that gleamed in the rows of lights attached to the ceiling. A pale, creamy strip ran it's way down from it's throat all the way town to her tail.
Glimmering on the sides of it's head where two bizarre, insect-like eyes which stared at her in an odd fashion, like she was some sort of freak from a circus. Of all the beings she saw in her lifetime, this had to be the strangest, although, it was probably thinking the same about her.
Nirani summoned her courage to ask the creature, 'Who are you? What are you doing here?'
Nirani could only hope that it understood her, whatever this creature was.