Look Both Ways

[Jade Tatsu]

About two years ago now (was it really that long? (checks Google Docs.... yikes, it was!)) I wrote the beginnings of a HFY fic. It was meant to be a one shot thing and had all the usual features. It was very blatant. Then I left it without finishing it. I can't remember why I came back to it but then it grew. It still is blatant, but the focus shifted towards one of the aliens, so that it's not quite that bad. The first few bit are. It's not that long, but I'll post in the bits I wrote it in.

Summary

Dranitor was just a soldier, until one day he was picked for a new mission with an interspecies task force. The mission wasn't easy. The consequences were worse.

So onward...

Thank you to Pax Humana and Daisy Duck for the pre-read and lite editing on all parts.

-*-*-​

Look Both Ways - Evolution

My name is Dranitor. Yes, I'm a Dranta and as to why I'm here, I'm here to make sure you understand what has happened.

You are so used to obeying orders, but you don't know why. I'm here to tell you why you need to stop believing everything you have ever known.

I'll be relating my tale to you. I'm sure there are assumptions in there, but this is what I know is the truth.

I've been told what started the war from one side but not the other. That's odd, because I should know both reasons. You don't know any reason? Do you? You are the government of the Dranta and you don't know what's kept us at war for the last six generations? That really should be something that concerns you. It didn't concern me, but I was just a soldier. You are meant to be more.

You don't need to worry. They don't blame us. They will if you continue fighting. If you do, well, I will leave. I know which side I've chosen. I hope you don't, because now you have the chance to build the future. You have the chance to truly guide the Dranta towards the future.

The Bright Ones promised us we'd advance, that we would grow to be like them. They have held us stagnant. The W'ymic haven't changed for 1000 years. How is that growth? We, like them, got given toys and trinkets. We gave up too much.

You'll understand that soon enough.

This is a Galactic War. It's fought mostly on planets, for the resources the systems represent. There are very few great space battles. Yes, I know we are told stories of great heroism and daring, of ships destroyed. To use a Black, my apologies, a Commonwealth expression - that's bullshit. Neither side could sustain such losses. There is a lot of ground combat. There has been a lot of ground combat. Decades of it. Generation's worth.

When I was born, the Dranta had been embroiled in the war for five generations. That's all we knew. It's all we know. That's why it's important for you to know my story. So that you know it can change. So that you know we can change. But to change you have to wake up. You have to realise the chains and be willing to break them.

I won't ask that yet. I will, after you know my story. After you know what it will mean.

So for me, it started when I was chosen for a special task force. No, not one of the W'ymic Intel forces, they don't fare well in the Commonwealth. This was something else. Something more specific. Something I'm ashamed of, now.

But that came later, and I have to start at the beginning.

---

"All right, listen up, you hatchlings," the Sergeant growled. "You're here because you are the best your species can offer. It's the Alliance's intention to create an interspecies task force," the Sergeant continued, his voice still gravelly but not beyond the norm of his species. "Yes, it's new, I know. The Alliance generally fields units comprised of the same species because that works out the best. But there are advantages of mixed units.

"You lot are in the classroom now so that you can learn. We'll run you into the ground in training later but it's no good you Opar charging forward to the enemy lines, only to find out that your Zarthan support has ducked for cover.

"Yeah... snigger now, but it happened," the Sergeant spat.

That made me freeze. You always heard rumours about that. I trusted the Sergeant not to joke. The situation on the front lines was tense. It was always tense. If I was honest, I knew we were losing but, here, I could relax a little. It was one of the few places I could relax.

The Sergeant wasn't. His announcement brought any wandering attention back to the present. I knew what the enemy was like. Uncompromising was about the nicest way of putting it. "And the fucking Blacks still laugh about it."

"So... you are here to learn, so that you can properly anticipate each other. None of you are stupid. You wouldn't be here if you were but you're all grunts so perhaps that's the better measure of intelligence. Either way, you will learn. You will adapt. And you will fight better for this training." The Sergeant seemed to meet the eyes of every soldier there.

"First off, we're going to touch on evolutionary decision making, because the smarts think that will build the foundation to work together." There was a derogatory noise. "At the very least, you'll understand why the Blacks are eviscerating you while your squad is 100 paces back watching." He paused for the nervous laughter to die.

"I'm not explaining this stuff. Intel has sent a Major to explain. If you give her so much as one moment of impertinence, remember she outranks you, so in addition to punishments the Major bestows, you will give me 100 laps of the facility." It was an empty threat. No one could run that far. "So, Major," the Sergeant stepped back, allowing the W'ymic Officer to step forward.

She looked around, her face expressionless. "Right!" the Major began, without bothering to introduce herself.

As I understood it, she was here for this one lecture, then she was heading back to the Intel Division. I couldn't read her well, she was W'ymic and I'm Dranta, but I could tell she didn't believe we had been selected for this job. No doubt she wanted to use one of Intel's Special Forces Squads. I'm told the Bright Ones had had denied that request. They had insisted it would fail, that this was the only way to succeed. I wondered about that. I wasn't sure how we could succeed.

Most of the front lines were just bodies. I could tell the Major thought that's all we were. Something to slow the Enemy down. No doubt she hoped that if we slowed them down enough, they'd lose interest. After six generations at war, I doubted that. What we needed was a solution. I'm sure the Bright Ones were working on one. But that took time. We had to give them time.

"No sapient species evolved on anything less than a Class 4 world. Yes, it's grandiose to designate our homeworlds that and most of us deemed our homeworld's normal until the Bright Ones came. Then, almost without exception every Alliance species adjusted our scales. I don't care what your species came up with, I'm using the Bright Ones' galactic standard. You may look up further information should you require it.

"So without exception all of our species were uplifted, and our species all saw other worlds. What every Alliance species discovered then, was that species on anything less than a Class 4 world are rather foolish. The accepted theory is that the planets are too nice. Planets designated less than a Class 4 are too nice. There are no predators or challenges. Microbes are tame so the best theory is that there is no push to develop sapience. The rest of the details aren't necessary for your purposes. Every Alliance species evolved on harsher worlds. Every species had to use the tools we were gifted with. We developed to use them efficiently. So what are some of the Alliance species' survival adaptations? Mine are pretty obvious," the Major said, flaring her gills and widening her eyes.

The W'ymic had some of the best distance vision of any Alliance species. That's why most of her people were in Intel. They liked to pretend they could see the future. Sometimes they guessed right. Still, most of us thought the W'ymic were cowards, they stayed behind the lines. They were the first species the Bright One's had uplifted. They should have been leading.

The rest of the Alliance knew they wanted to dominate when the war was over. They would be in for a surprise.

"What are other adaptations?" She indicated that we should answer. Alliance teaching theory was that interaction resulted in better information retention, even in grunts.

"Claws," one replied, holding up his long, curved appendages.

"Yes, good. What else?"

The Gryna flared its brightly coloured hood. "Poison." The hiss was sibilant.

"Armour," the Brydon at the back of the room rumbled. His mass took up most of the area.

"Fangs," a slender Opar snapped, displaying the rather incongruous sight of row upon row of teeth.

"Yes," the Major nodded. "All good answers. Those things are what gave our species an advantage on our homeworlds. For the carnivores, claws and fangs usually allowed easier kills. For the herbivores, armour and claws provided protection. It was enough to tip the balance, since most of the Alliance's herbivorous species have to carefully control the populations of their former predators to prevent their extinction.

"There is a similarity with the adaptations listed. They are easy. They are natural. They don't require anything to use because each species is born with their inbuilt adaptation.

"And that is what this lecture is about. Evolutionary decision making because the truth is that those species born with good defences, tend to make defensive decisions. Generally, carnivores attack and herbivores defend. Hunters with claws are generally aggressive. It's just in their nature, because that's how they are genetically wired, reinforced by evolutionary tendencies.

"So, you can see how each adaptation leads to predictable results. I'll generalise a little." She was laying it on thick. That was the other problem with W'ymic. They thought the rest of us were stupid.

I could understand it in the Bright Ones. They were so much more advanced. To them, we were children. For the W'ymic, it was an affectation.

"Claws, aggression. Fangs, aggression. Poison depends on the delivery system for the determination of predictable results. Delivery by fangs generally leads to aggression. Delivery by skin contact is generally associated with defensive decisions. Armour tends to be defensive. Speed, as an adaptation comes down to staying power: the sprinters and the stayers. Sprinters are usually hunters. High bursts of speed but only for short distances, while others can run slower but for longer.

"There's one more adaptation though. One all of our species learned as we developed," she waited to see if the grunts would answer. Not unexpectedly the group remained silent. "Typical. Can't think beyond the basics of evolution, even though you all benefit from the secondary adaptation every day."

"Tool use," she said firmly.

Was that really an adaptation? Still, the group with me stirred. Her eyes did that thing the W'ymic could. It looked like she focused on us all. It was just a narrowing but most species thought it disconcerting. I just stared back.

"For most Alliance species, it's a secondary adaptation. It is not our first instinct, but it is one we benefit greatly from. Shielding, shuttle transports. They are all just tools. Highly advanced tools but just tools.

"There is only one species for whom tool use is their primary adaptation."

"Humans," came the derogatory hiss. I think it came from the Zarthan but I wasn't going to point it out. The Humans were held in contempt because they didn't fight on the front lines.

"Yes, Humans. They come from a class 13 planet. Verified Class 13 and without claws, or armour, or poison, they survived and thrived. But they are still only one of two species not represented in fighting at the front."

"Because they are cowards." Someone said it. I was a little surprised. I didn't realise that Earth was a class 13 planet. Drana was class 10. And Dranta were considered some of the toughest fighters. Class 13 was way above move of the others in the Alliance.

"No," the Major said it with such conviction that there was no rejection of her statement. "They are absent from the front for three reasons." She took a quick breath, flaring her gills so that the red insides showed. "What I'm about to tell you is classified, but for the purposes of this multi-species task force, it was determined that you should know the truth.

"The Humans do not fight at the front for three main reasons. The first is that every time a Human has fought, the enemy targets them exclusively. You've all seen the Enemy drive towards a singular target," the Major paused. I swallowed hard but nodded. That was not a good memory. "Imagine that coming towards you?" I did not need to do that. I could feel the fear in the room. Others were imagining it.

We were soldiers, we knew the Enemy.

"Every single time a Human fights, they are targeted. Unfortunately, we can't use that trait against the Enemy and we've tried setting up traps with Humans as bait. The Enemy then ignores the Humans."

That was new information. The Enemy usually behaved as a huge ravaging wall of fighters. They were individual but they acted as one. They were unthinking, uncaring and unstoppable. This indicated that they were more. Cunning, intelligence and acting on a plan. That would explain why we were losing.

"Secondly, the Humans do not fight to help us contain their microbial activity. Each Human lives in a state of symbiosis with millions of bacteria. Most of them are benign because they cannot jump the species barrier, though they can be deadly for the Humans. There are a few which studies have shown are similar to some of our most deadly bacteria which the Humans carry. They need those bacteria to survive so we cannot remove them, so rather we remove the Humans.

"And thirdly, as the first race hit by the Enemy, there are only a few surviving Humans and while it might seem unusual that they do not fight, their time is far better employed inventing tools."

I wondered if the W'ymic thought the Humans would challenge them. If the Humans were so intelligent, they would gravitate towards Intel. I'd heard of a few there but they never seemed to get anywhere, probably because the W'ymic outnumbered them. Nepotism and speciesism seemed to be alive and well there. The Humans probably wouldn't complain though. They would be fighting harder to get a solution the further away Earth got.

"They are the only species to have tool use as their primary adaptation. To them, making and using tools is natural, is the first thing they think of."

"They're just cowards," the remark was whispered but I saw that the Major still heard. It was the Opar.

I saw her decide to give us an example. I knew it would be based on the Opar. I wasn't disappointed. "The Opar have fangs, rows and rows of teeth on a slender but fast body," she said, seeming to select the species at random. It was a good act. "To use their teeth, they are required to close with their prey, however, the Enemy is armoured. There is no soft place to bite, and so until the invention of synth-claws and impact absorbing armour, the Opar were not that useful."

"It was a Human who suggested the use of synthetic claws for those without such adaptation and impact absorbing armour was one of the few weapons the Humans managed to save from their homeworld. Make no mistake, the Humans wish to fight and the few times they have been allowed on the battlefield, each one of them has taken out 30 to 40 of the Enemy."

There was silence. I don't think any of us had heard that. I never knew they could fight that well. I didn't know they'd invented synth claws. What else had they invented? That led me to laugh. Maybe that's why the W'ymic were so uptight. They were the first species the Bright Ones had uplifted, but they were being shown up by the last. That was amusing. It was probably true.

Maybe the Humans were the ones allowing us to hold the line. Maybe they were the reason we weren't overrun and yoked to whatever slave devices the Enemy desired. That's what happened to those who were captured. That thought, that fear was why most of us fought.

"I suggest you choose your words with more care," the Major said into the silence. "The only other race not at the front is of course the Bright Ones but it is not their place to fight."

No. It wasn't. The Dranta owed them so much. Everyone in the Alliance did.

The W'ymic had been just exploring their system, sending probes that took years to reach anywhere when the Bright Ones had come to them. They had welcomed the W'ymic to the galaxy. The celebrations had lasted for days, the wars would have lasted for decades had the Bright One's not interfered. The first weapons launched were intercepted by their ship in orbit, and then they patiently explained that they were not to be feared. They had not come to Betran to conquer but to make friends with the younger race.

All the Alliance knew that history, even though it was the W'ymic. It was because it mirrored our own experiences. The main difference was the level of development before the Bright Ones came. The Opar had been industrialising and beginning to reach towards the greater territory of the galaxy. The Dranta actually had a small colony on our tiny moon. The Brydon were technologically advanced but with their hulking physiques had not even thought of heading towards space.

We all shared that experience. We shared the war and our love for the Bright Ones. We all called them that, or the equivalent translation. None of us could pronounce their real name or language. It was because they spoke psychically. We couldn't duplicate that. It let them know everything. At least, that's what we were taught.

The Major looked around. The motion pulled my attention back to her. "Now that you are all clear on that, I'll get on to important things. This task force will train for one objective, and one objective only. You are to capture one of the Enemy soldiers. Preferably one of their leaders."

"What? One of the Blacks?" I gasped in disbelief. The designation 'Enemy' was only the official one. To the front lines they were known as Blacks. It wasn't very imaginative. Their ships were black, their armour was black. It was a direct statement against the Bright Ones.

"One of the Blacks," she confirmed. "There have been attempts in the past but by the time the Enemy was subdued, they had suicided. The bodies literally melted. Those were all attempts by single species. We believe that a multi species task force will be able to succeed. It will have the requisite and diverse enough skill set to succeed.

"We cannot successfully fight an enemy we do not fully understand. That is why capturing one of the Enemy soldiers is essential. Then, and only then will we begin to understand."

I nodded. If we had an organic Enemy further weapons could be developed. They were not nice weapons, but the Blacks used them on their own forces. I'd never seen an Enemy corpse, not even in the battles we won. There was something in their armour that melted their flesh. It was either that or they were slaved so badly that all that was left was a nervous system and a brain. That was a theory on the lines. I didn't like to think about it.

There were possibilities for the future, but only if we captured one.

The Sergeant stepped forward again. "That's enough time wasted today," he announced. "Get out to training ground one. We've got work to do."

---

And that was it for the first part. Thoughts, criticisms, comments all appreciated.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Thanks to Pax Humana and Daisy Duck for pre-reading and lite editing.

Look Both Ways 2 - Training

We went to the training grounds, and wasn't that a surprise. There was a Human waiting for us. Their rank pips said Lieutenant. I'd never seen a Human before then. Not up close anyway. They mostly stayed out of the way, for our benefit and theirs. No one wanted to catch anything off them.

Having just gone through the Major's lecture, I could see how weak it was. No claws. No armour. No fangs. It was pathetic. Yet it came from a class 13 planet? That was three classes above mine. And the Dranta come from a Class 10 planet. It's one class out of the norm for the Alliance. The Humans apparently didn't bother to check what was normal when they evolved.

I didn't get much chance to think about that then. I didn't really want to think about it either. All I needed to know what that it outranked me and if there was one thing the Sergeant had done, it was hammer into our heads the importance of rank. Species didn't matter. Only those little markings that displayed rank.

We fell into our lines when the Sergeant barked. He was a Kishne. Loud mouthed, sharp tongued drillmaster. He was probably as upset about having to deal with us as we were with having to deal with him. I wonder what happened to him?

We had been the best in our units. And now we had been dragged off the front line into training. More training. While the Blacks advanced.

There was a lot of frustration in that unit then. Even with the Major's lecture, no one thought this was a good idea. Still, we'd been trained to obey, and obey we did. The Human looked us up and down. One at a time. It stopped before each of us and just looked. I can still feel the force of its glare. I could see the collar around its neck.

I wasn't the only one to stare. The Human ignored us. I guess it was used to being stared at.

"Right!" The Human had shouted after it had finished examining us. "I am Lieutenant Pickering, and it's my job to whip you into shape for this little endeavour."

So that's what they were calling it.

"First off, I'm going to put you through basic training."

That elicited a groan. We might be soldiers, but we'd already done that. We'd seen the front lines. What did we need basic training for? The Human's lips had quirked. It said nothing. I learned later it was female. By the end of the day, none of us cared.

"Right, let's go for a jog," Pickering announced. She shared a nod with the Sergeant who stepped back. That should have been a warning. It didn't sink in.

We ran. The Human led the way. She ran around the edge of training ground one. Most basic training is three laps, then other exercises. If you are an Opar, it's five laps, since they are evolved to run. We thought the Human would give us the normal basic compromise. She didn't. She didn't even pause. Three laps in, she just continued the pace.

That's okay. We were soldiers. We were the best of our units. We could handle extra laps. Six laps down. The Opar wasn't concerned. The Brydon was struggling. It was too heavy to run far. I was okay. I was pretty fit and the training facility was only 0.8g of my natural environment.

The Human didn't seem concerned. "Keep up," Pickering snapped when some began flagging.

We did another two laps.

"Oh this is pathetic," the Human spat. The Brydon was staggering. I was beginning to hurt. The Opar seemed okay, but I could see the stress in her eyes. "Fine," Pickering said, never breaking stride. "If any of you can outpace me for this lap, we'll stop." It was a challenge.

We should have known better. The Human wasn't exactly fresh, but wasn't gasping like the Zarthan. The Brydon would just stop, the Zarthan would collapse. Still, we tried. The Opar was in reasonable condition. She surged past the Human. Pickering's lips quirked again. She watched the rest of us for a few moments. I tried. I ran faster. I caught up to Pickering. She nodded as I went by. The Gryna caught up to me. I wasn't concerned. Only one of us had to outpace Pickering. I figured the Opar was our best bet.

Pickering dropped back to the Brydon. They exchanged a few words. He stopped. She didn't. She caught up to the Zarthan. More words were exchanged. Well, Pickering said something. The Zarthan collapsed. The Major's lecture echoed through my mind. The Zarthan were ambush predators. They had no stamina. When they hunted, they arranged it so that they didn't fight. In this war, they fought at a distance. They couldn't sustain the energy required for longer, frontline combat.

Then Pickering continued running. She ran faster than she had been. Her stride was smooth. There was nothing to differentiate it from her earlier pace, except it was definitely faster. I felt the wind when she passed. I could tell her breathing was controlled. She caught the Gryna next. It didn't seem hard. I was still running. I watched the Opar. She was heading around the last corner. Pickering didn't seem concerned. She was about a third of the way behind the Opar. Pickering accelerated.

The only thing I've ever seen do something like that was a Black. They were fast. Too fast. They were slaved to machines. That's what we'd been told. The machine pushed their biological functions. Pickering wasn't slaved to a machine. She ran.

She caught the Opar with about 10 metres to spare, tapping her on the back as she went past. Pickering went past the starting point. She paused then, running in place. "Right, you lost, keep running," she shouted. I wondered how she had the breath to shout.

Then Pickering kept running. We ran more laps. I can't remember how far. Pickering had obviously excused the Zarthan and Brydon. The Zarthan had dragged himself out of the way to sit against the Brydon. Every time I passed him, I could hear his breath still whistling in his throat.

More laps. I lost count. My legs burned. I couldn't go much further. The Gryna collapsed. I ran past them, though by then it was more of a shuffle. It was pride that kept me going, Pickering hadn't stopped. Sure, she was sweating but she was still moving strongly. The Opar was running as well. I'm proud to say that I was in about the same condition. Fighting was good for fitness. Obviously, not as good as whatever Pickering was doing.

I collapsed at about the same time as the Opar. Pickering rubbed it in. She completed her lap before stopping. She was breathing hard. Not hard enough. She went to the Opar, and carried her over to the Brydon. Then she went for the Gryna, carefully avoiding his poisonous hood. She came over to me next.

"You're too heavy for me to carry, but I can support you," Pickering said softly as she got close.

I should have already twigged when she touched the others. I'm not proud to say that I hadn't. "You can touch me?" We'd heard about the microbes the Humans carried, yet she'd carried the others without appearing to care about that.

Pickering tapped the collar I'd noted earlier. "It's a suppressor," she told me.

I always thought they were internal. Most of the bugs were inside after all. My look must have said that much.

"It's external so that you can see it," she said. "That way you feel comforted because you know it's there. There's a couple of probes into my neck. They do the work," she explained, rubbing the collar at the back of her neck. I winced just thinking about it. That would hurt. Yet she obviously did it out of choice. It was kind of humbling. "Now, will you make it if I support you?"

What could I say to that? I just nodded. Pickering was stronger than I thought. Maybe she couldn't lift me, but she supported enough of my weight that we made it to the others. I collapsed again once we got there.

"Right," she said, any sympathy was gone from her voice. "We're going to work on your endurance." She bared her teeth. I learned that was meant to display happiness. Somehow, I don't think Pickering meant it like that then. "After that, I'll think about teaching you to fight. 0600 tomorrow, we're starting with a jog. For now, dismissed."

We saluted as best we could. She waved it away and turned to the Sergeant. I noticed she wasn't even breathing hard. Somehow, she'd recovered. By the Bright Ones, was I that unfit? Even the Opar was still breathing hard, and they were meant to run. She was eyeing the Human speculatively. I'd ask later what she was thinking.

"We've got a shit load of work to do," Pickering said. She might outrank the Sergeant but he was the one who'd delivered us to her. Maybe she had to make some kind of report. Us grunts don't question that.

"The Zarthan's not physically capable," the Sergeant told her. He'd been paying attention to the Major's lecture. He'd watched us run. No doubt he'd made his own conclusions.

"We'll see," Pickering replied. She didn't seem concerned.

"You can't kill them." The way he said it made me shiver. Had she killed others in training? Or had another Human? There was a certain echo of resigned fact in his tone that suggested it had happened.

"Oh, but I can make them wish for it." Pickering again barred her teeth. It reminded me of the Opar's mouth full of sharp blades. Right there and then I knew I'd rather face an Opar than a Human. A whole squad of Opar.

The Sergeant didn't seem concerned.

"Give the Brydon another 10 minutes and have him carry the Zarthan. Make sure they eat tonight," Pickering ordered the Sergeant. "The rest will make it to their quarters."

He nodded and then saluted.

"I have another mob to whip into shape," Pickering added, returning his salute before she turned away. Her words registered slowly. What did she mean, another mob? Was there to be more than one team? That was possible. It was even probable. I didn't feel offended. The war demanded we do what we had to. If that meant multiple teams then that was for the best.

The other implications dawned. Pickering was going to do that run again? Today? What? That couldn't possibly be right. The others slowly realised the same.

Lieutenant Pickering looked back at us. Her eyes were measuring again. She bared her teeth. This time it did seem amused. "Major Iael told you a Human's primary adaptation, tool use," she said. She held up one hand, and wriggled her surprisingly dexterous fingers. "The good Major neglected to mention our secondary adaptation."

In the Bright One's name, I wondered what it could be.

"Endurance," Pickering answered the unspoken question. "Endurance. Think on that when I'm running you into the ground."

I didn't need to. I was still on the ground. Though it didn't seem right. Endurance was one thing, but Pickering had half carried me. Did she not consider herself strong? Wait, Class 13 planet. Most thought my planet, the Dranta Homeworld Drana, was bad enough at Class 10.

I never want to go near Earth.

---

 

[odlawzein]

Nice beginning. I'm not versed enough in the hfy genre to know if there's something to note (aside from ME fanfiction), but narrative-wise I think it's a very solid start.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Thank you.

Look Both Ways 3 - Introductions

The evening after our first day of training was interesting. We were all billeted together. There was no separation of men, women or neuters. Why bother? Most Alliance species aren't compatible. Pregnancy wasn't an issue and for this unit, we were all different species. There were facilities for us all.

We ate. The Sergeant made sure of that. Then he left us to our own devices. No one was quite sure what to do. That led to the introductions.

"Well, it's obvious we are going to be stuck with each other for a while," the Opar said. "So instead of calling everyone hey you, or your species, we should probably know each other's names."

The Zarthan nodded. He was still sipping lightly salted water. "Did anyone know a Human could do that?" he asked, still almost breathless. It was an affectation.

The Opar shook her head. "If there were more of them, the war would be over," she said, reiterating the gist of Major Iael's lecture. Her voice made it clear she was pretty thankful there weren't more of them. Her attitude had changed from earlier in the day. Being run into the ground by a member of a species you called cowardly would do that for you. "Anyway, I'll start," she added, bringing the conversation back to introductions. If they got stuck on what a Human could and couldn't do, they'd never get anything else done. "My name is Quanna na Karanta'th Sarnitina. Just call me Quanna. That is my synth claws and armour over there. I was with the 148th Mobile division."

"What planets?" the Gryna asked.

"Aberdon, Krashin and Bitrana," Quanna said the last softly. The group winced. Bitrana had not been a good battle. The Blacks had wanted the planet. Their assault had been brutal. It had only taken them two months to take possession of the planet. Most of the defenders had been captured. There wasn't much hope for them.

"Sorry," the Gryna said. The apology sounded genuine but everyone here had memories they didn't want to recall. "My public name's Fannar Dackaede. Fannar is fine. I was with the 859th generals on Krashin-" He nodded to Quanna at that. "-Ster, Mestepho and Igreun."

Mestepho and Igreun had both fallen. They were still fighting for Ster. There were a lot of planets being fought over.

"Any specialities?" The Brydon asked. The general divisions were just that. They were front line fighters. They did what they had to, but some units were better at certain tasks than others. If they were to work together, then they had to know each other.

"Explosives," Fannar flared his hood half way, the equivalent of his species shrug. "But nothing great. I don't know why they bothered to call me."

"Some big wig picked us out," I replied. "I'm Dranitor Dranith Drantala."

"Yeah, we all know about the Dranta," Quanna muttered.

"Best naming conventions, ever," I said, giving them the equivalent of a grin. I meant it. To a Dranta, not naming things after your species doesn't make sense. I don't know how they can tell what things are meant to be. "I was with the 38th flight support unit."

"Flight support?" Fannar seemed surprised. Flight support was mostly a Zarthan's job, or a Kishne. They were natural fliers. And lighter. There were times when every kilo counted and Dranta weren't light.

"Flight support," I confirmed. "The list of planets is long," I added. Flight support went a lot of places.

"You didn't run like flight support," Quannar accused. I'd kept up with her at the end.

"I started off in the 1085th Ground," I admitted.

They stared. The 1085th Ground and all support units had been lost when Haldra fell. It had been a long battle. Years of fighting before the Blacks managed to gain supremacy. The end had been slow, but still fast enough to catch some unawares. The Blacks had brought in a space fleet. It barricaded the system. The last few transports hadn't made it out.

"I was convalescing." I sighed at the explanation. It was better to answer before they asked.

"Looks like they are putting you back to ground," the Zarthan said.

"Maybe." I looked to the ambush predator. He got the message. He would be on the front lines as well but answered anyway.

"I wasn't with flight support. I was with the heavy artillery," the Zarthan explained. It was a long distance position. It made sense of his physical condition, though the heavy artillery had an unfortunate habit of going boom when the Enemy blew them up. The Blacks were fond of irony. "Klahan Radisha Trantiro, at your service. Call me Tiro," he added. "I got called off Ster," he gave his last posting.

"Ouch."

"Eh, the battle was going okay," Tiro indicated. He didn't seem concerned. There wasn't anything he could do now anyway.

"Which unit?"

"523rd."

No one had heard of it. You didn't hear about a lot of units, and keeping the numbers straight was difficult. Only those who did something big really got known. The group turned towards the Brydon.

"I was with the Heavy Mobile Units on Krashin."

"We still had units there?" Quanna seemed surprised.

"They hadn't taken it when I left."

"It's got to be getting close." It was a bit morbid to be talking about a planet the Blacks would be taking. We were used to that. It was a reality of the war. That made the new task force all the more important.

The only reason the war wasn't already over was the Bright Ones. They drove the Blacks away. They kept morale high. That, and the fact that the Enemy consolidated. Every single planet they took, they consolidated on. That took years, especially with harassment. And if you timed it right, it was possible, barely possible to retake the planet. There was only a small window on that. It didn't always work and wasn't always tried. The Bright Ones decided when was best. If you took the planet, the main one anyway, you generally took the system. That's how the war had been fought. There were a few systems with multiple planets that were fought over. They were odd. It was possible for the Blacks to have one planet, the Alliance to have another.

Those situations were tense. It didn't happen often.

"They'll hold out," the Brydon was confident. "Call me Wibowo. It's the closest you'll come to actually pronouncing my name."

The group chuckled. That was true. The Brydon were herbivores. They had long, drawn out names that the others just couldn't vocalise. "That's my claws and armour there," Wibowo added, indicating towards a significant pile of gear.

"So we have the heavy hitter," Quanna stated. "The skirmisher," she pointed to herself. "Then generalists, flight support, and artillery. Interesting choices."

"And they want us to capture a Black," Tiro muttered.

"One of us anyway," I corrected.

"One of us?"

"Didn't any of you listen?" I asked. "The Lieutenant said she had another training group to go. We aren't the only team."

"They really want one," Quanna murmured. "I wonder why."

"It's better not to," Wibowo suggested.

"Hm?"

"It's better not to wonder," the Brydon explained. "Better to consider what training we will be put through. Or if we will have to work with another team."

They were silent for that. It was obvious the Human was going to train us hard. The Major had said there were other groups but no one knew if we'd been training with them or even working with them.

"She can't possibly expect us to run again tomorrow," Tiro groaned.

"I think she can," Quanna wasn't sympathetic.

"I can't," Tiro's voice was urgent. "I just can't," he repeated more emphatically.

"What did you discuss today?" I asked. "The Lieutenant said something to you."

Tiro snorted. "She said not to kill myself."

Wibowo laughed. The sound was deep. "She'll do it for you."

The rest stared. They hadn't expected such a droll sense of humour.

"We can always drop out," Fannar pointed out. It wasn't a good suggestion. Dropping out would mean returning to our homeworlds in shame. It wasn't like being wounded. That was different. That was honourable. To return home and say that you failed to make the grade in training that was painful. They all had more pride than that.

"I still can't believe she did that," Tiro said, ignoring Fannar's statement. "Has anyone met a Human before?"

"There was one in Intel that gave us a briefing once," Wibowo admitted. "It was on Krashin. Obviously, they never mentioned anything about themselves."

"Did they have that collar?" I hadn't seen them before.

"Yeah. Said it was a new thing from the Bright Ones."

"The collar?" Fannar asked.

"The Human touched you," Quanna was shocked that she had to explain. "You heard the Major. The list of biohazards is long. The collar is what's controlling them."

"Oh," Fannar had the good taste to appear ashamed. That much translated between species. "So what do we know about Humans then?" he asked, to shift the subject.

"They come from Earth. It's a Class 13 planet. They got tool making as their primary adaptation," Quanna repeated the lecture.

"Anything more than what the Major told us?" Fannar pressed.

"They hate the Enemy more than us," the Brydon said. "On Krashin, the way the Human spoke, you knew, if it could have gone out there, it would have wiped them out."

"Their homeworld was the first attacked," I reminded them. Earth was still deep in Enemy territory. It would only make the Humans fight harder. The only thing that gave them hope was the fact that the Enemy didn't appear to strip mine planets. The few planets that had been regained showed very little damage. The Blacks kept them in good condition. Presumably, Earth was still in good condition, though I had no idea how the initial battle had gone, how much damage might have been done then.

Quanna looked thoughtful. "The Humans see the Bright Ones the most," she said finally.

"What do you mean?"

"They see the Bright Ones more than the rest of us."

"We don't see the Bright Ones," I pointed out. Our governments did, but we didn't. We'd seen images, but we had almost no chance of seeing a Bright One in person. They were just too far above us.

"Yeah but the Humans do."

"The Lieutenant hasn't seen a Bright One," Wibowo was sure. "One of the Human leaders might have, but why would Pickering have seen one?" The question hung in the air.

"Look, I don't know for sure," Quanna defended herself. "It's just something I heard. There was a W'ymic assigned to our group for a short period. It didn't work. Just didn't fit in but they said something about that. Every Human has seen a Bright One. *Every* single one of them. They never said exactly why, just said it was necessary, for control or something."

"I suppose the Bright Ones might be able to better control the Humans microbes," Wibowo allowed. The Bright Ones had technology beyond them all. And since the Humans had lost Earth, they had been fighting the longest, it made sense that the Bright Ones might give them some special attention. "It seems a lot of work when the collar does the same thing."

"It might not be true," Quanna admitted.

"Dare you to ask."

"Eh, no. I'm not giving up this posting," she snapped.

"We'd better get some rest," Tiro interrupted before anyone else could speak. "0600 is going to come awful quick." He didn't appear happy at the thought.

"Very quickly," I agreed, sighing heavily.

We settled.

"We'll just have to see how this goes," Quanna said. "It might be training, but at least we know it's for something greater than ourselves. If we can capture an Enemy…" She didn't finish. There were so many possibilities if they could capture an Enemy.

"We just have to take it one day at a time," Fannar agreed.

And we did. I don't remember much of the days and weeks that followed. I don't want to remember. I know Pickering ran us into the ground - literally. She was worse than a Black Destroyer, those behemoths that are thankfully only rarely seen. They usually spell the end of resistance on whatever world they appear on.

Sometimes, we were joined by the other groups in training. Sometimes we were alone. We were always pitted against each other. It made us learn. It made Tiro charge ahead. It made Quanna consider her back up. We learned to work with each other. Our fitness improved. Daily drills did that. Pickering never once faltered.

As time went on, training became more focused. One team would act as the Blacks, one as the Alliance. We had to capture their Commander. Pickering provided the Blacks tactics. She said nothing to those teams being the Alliance. She simply wished them luck. They needed it.

She showed us all why the Humans didn't fight. Her tactics were insane. They worked. Sometimes, the Alliance teams got close. They never managed to capture the Black. It looked like all the training meant nothing.

I should have known better. Pickering was using the time to analyse us. She played both sides then. I suspect she consulted with others. The whole Alliance was rooting for our success.

Capture was pretty simple. You had to get a ring around their neck. In training, it was symbolic. The reality would be similar. The rings were designed to short out their slaving. It should render them inactive. At least, that's what we were told.

It wasn't going to be easy. At first, we only captured a Black about a quarter of the time. Mostly it was because we didn't obey. She made us change sides. For most of the training time, those playing the Blacks had stayed with her. They'd learned to obey. Winning was good reinforcement. It remained the same when they changed sides. When they played the Alliance, they stuck to her plans. They captured their target. It was a wake up. No one disobeyed after that. Questioned yes, disobeyed no.

Pickering didn't mind questions. She always explained. It was odd finding an officer who would explain. She explained that as well. We were here to learn, she was here to teach. Teaching wasn't the same as giving orders, so of course she'd explain. Orders required obedience, learning required understanding. She explained to make sure we learned.

The plans weren't always perfect. That's what training was for. There came a time when the plans went out the window. We all knew them. Then it was a matter of luck. The Lieutenant made us practice in that chaos. She said it led to faster thinking if we remembered our colleagues. That was difficult. We went back to instincts and they weren't always the same.

Training helped. We began to work as one.

Then we were declared ready. I don't remember ever being more exhausted. We had a short leave scheduled. Then we were shipped out. Major Iael accompanied us. Intel really wanted a Black to question.

It was our job to get them one. Shipping down to that planet - Mautera - I don't think I've ever been so scared. I wasn't the only one.

Then the day dawned, and the mission was all I could think about.

---

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 4 - Battle

"You will see death today," Major Iael announced.

She'd never actually told us her name. I started with everyone else. Did she think us children? We'd been pulled off the front lines to form this task force. We'd seen death in combat.

"More than usual," the Major continued. She wasn't perturbed by our looks.

Sometimes being a multi-species Alliance sucked. Some gestures didn't translate. The rest of my team knew though. The whole point of Lieutenant Pickering's training had been to drive us into each other, and the ground, to the point where we knew each other as well as we knew ourselves. I knew what my team would do. I knew how they'd react. They knew me. It was both comforting and scary. We didn't think about that much.

"You must use their deaths to accomplish your objective."

That was harsh. I remember standing there thinking that many of the troops around me weren't going to see their homes again. I knew that. It always happened. The Major was implying it would be worse this time. It was. I don't know how she knew but that's getting ahead.

But I also remember thinking that the Lieutenant would have given us a different speech. She would have told us to honour those who were about to give their lives and to take the opportunity that represented. It was a different focus. I think I preferred Pickering's. I know Wibowo did. As large as they were, the Brydon had evolved to be mutually cooperative. He understood sacrifice.

The difference in focus was everything with this speech. The Major didn't throw us off. Pickering's training ensured that. We took the message Major Iael wanted us to hear. We were ready to fight.

"Remember your objective. It is the only thing that matters today. The only focus of this battle."

So keeping Mautera wasn't an objective? Well, it probably was. Major Iael tended to focus on what was of interest to her. All that eyesight, great though it was for viewing in the distance, tending to make her blind to the immediate issues. We also had to hold Mautera. What was the point if the Enemy took it, the way they had taken so many other worlds?

Including Earth.

There'd been times in training when Lieutenant Pickering had been sad. I'm smart, but it still took me a while to work out the pattern. It was after one of us mentioned our homeworlds. The homeworlds we were fighting now to defend. The colonies that we were fighting to defend. The other worlds we were fighting on. Those that weren't claimed, but those that formed the battlegrounds.

The Human had never known her homeworld. She'd never known a colony. A bit of discreet checking revealed that the entire Human territory had been the first to fall. It hadn't been large but that didn't matter. To her, it had been home. I realised Pickering had never seen that home. She'd been born far after the start of the war. I wondered if it was the goal of the Humans in the Alliance to retake Earth. I never had the courage to ask. How could I?

The Major droned on. We ignored it for the most part. We knew what we had to do. Capture a Black. Use the training we'd had to do that. I don't remember being transported to the lines. I remember checking everything. And then checking Wibowo's armour and weapons. Tiro checked mine. We all checked. Everything had to be perfect.

Then we were at the line. It was the usual cacophony of noise and light and pain. The Blacks were an undulating wave that advanced as one. We were a line, seemingly so fragile that it had to break. I was proud that we hadn't.

There were a lot of Kishne on the Line. They were the regulars. They looked at our unit with respect. I don't know if they knew our job or if it was just because we were specially trained. Probably a bit of both. The Alliance might have been trying to keep our objective under wraps but there are always hints. We were here, it was obviously going down today. We weren't the only Unit here. The others were scattered over the planet. We'd all make the attempt.

The Kishne charged. Straight into the teeth of the Blacks. They were chewed up and spat out. I don't know how many died just attempting to join in combat. We followed. Idiots that we were. We'd been trained for this.

Wibowo's armour took the brunt of the attacks. The rest of the Unit followed in his wake. He didn't resent that. This is what had been planned. We made it to the front.

"Contact." Fannar was acting as our comm tech today. He made sure HQ was informed. It was mostly reporting to the Major. She wasn't with us. She would have been out of place. She still wanted a blow by blow accounting.

That's when things got complicated. They always were going to be complicated. The Blacks seemed to fight as one. They were individuals, yet they moved together. We had to separate one. Preferably one of the commanders.

Before training, I had no idea how to tell which were the Black Line Commanders and which were the troops. Rank was denoted by tiny markings on their armour. I've since learned that the Alliance copied that early on in the war. We used to have large rank tokens. The Blacks would blow the officers away.

Trying to find a commander in that mess was almost impossible.

"Five Blacks to your right," the Major's voice sounded over our comms. Her eyes were good for something. She wasn't on the line. She was back a bit. I guess she could pick out the details.

We moved. It was a hard slog. The Major had been right. We saw death. The Kishne were possessed. They held the Enemy back while we shifted. I never wanted to see that kind of slaughter again. It was worse than normal. The Alliance couldn't sustain that kind of losses.

I'm sure the Enemy Commander saw us coming. It was impossible to hide that we weren't Kishne after all. Wibowo used his bulk to make openings we rushed into. The Enemy soldiers didn't fight to prevent our movement. They had their own orders but at the same time, they didn't let us through.

Then we faced the Commander. They tell you in basic training - your first basic training, not the training a sadistic Human puts you through to get ready for this mission - that the Enemy is arrogant. That they make mistakes. The Alliance lies. The Blacks are confident. They might make mistakes. I don't know. By the Bright Ones, I don't know what they were.

Now came the hard part. We had to somehow separate the Commander. It happens in combat. You take a wrong step, you end up isolated. You end up dead. It happened to the Alliance and the Blacks. The Blacks fight until they can't fight any more, then their bodies dissolve. No one had ever seen a Black. That's what we were trying to change.

Quanna and Tiro rushed forward, to either side of the Black Commander. I followed Quanna, Fannar followed Tiro. Wibowo remained at the front, fighting one to one. I don't know how he did it. I could hear the gouges being made into his armour. He never faltered.

We fought our way through. The Kishne troops must have sensed our need. They poured in behind us. They took the brunt of death. They drove the Blacks away from their Commander. At that point, the Blacks realised their Commander had been isolated. They didn't realise the rest.

The Commander fought more viciously. Wibowo closed further. I could hear rounds impacting at point blank.

"I'm okay," Wibowo told us. There wasn't even a hint of pain in his voice. He matched the Black, blow for blow. It only seemed to make the Black angrier. There's always a sense of anger with the Blacks. Anger and hatred. That Commander hated us. We could feel it.

The Black lines were driven back. I didn't see it. I saw my job instead. Black armour is almost beautiful. On a casual inspection, it's seamless. It wasn't. There's joints and ridges. You just have to know where to find them. We'd seen samples in training. This was different. The Commander didn't stop moving. I doubt it was going to if we just asked nicely.

We had to get parts of the armour off before we could make the capture. We had to move fast. If the Enemy Commander realised what we were doing, it could suicide. There was a voice in all our heads screaming *Faster, Faster*.

Quanna ducked in. She drove a wedge into one of the small gaps. Fannar wrenched it open. We all began praying that there were not fail safes. We didn't think there were. Enemy armour got damaged in battles and they didn't die. Our attack should register as damage. The wedges were meant to interfere with their suicide signals as well. We still had to be fast. There was most likely an override we wouldn't be able to quash.

I don't think the Black Commander realised then. It thought we were trying to kill it. It fought harder. Wibowo lunged in, using his forearms to grasp the Black Commander. Maybe it thought Wibowo was going to suicide. It began to hit even harder. I'm pretty sure I heard Wibowo's bones crack.

"Move!" The Major's voice urged us onwards.

With Wibowo holding the Enemy relatively still, and the Kishne driving the Blacks back, we could move faster. The Enemy wasn't that easily defeated. Tiro got hit in the midriff and flew back. He disappeared into the churning mass of troops. I got another wedge in, and wrenched it open. I couldn't think about anything else.

The armour cracked. Pieces fell away. The rest remained. Quanna leapt onto the Black's back. It struggled. The cutting edges of its armour sliced through her armour. She screamed but grimly held on. She worked at the black armour, and finally enough was peeled away.

I think the Black Commander realised then. I'll never know for sure. Wibowo was still grasping it, but it managed to throw Quanna. Fannar took her place, and tried to lock the suppressor in place. The Black shattered it. I handed him another, doing my best to pin one of the Black's arms. We managed to lock it in place.

The Black still struggled. It was different though. The suppressor was working. It was just as well. Wibowo fell. The Black fell with him. His grasp loosened and it was only then that I could see the damage to him. I saw the blood. It was soaking into Mautera's dirt around his legs. His armour was gone. I shudder to think what it would have been like without his armour. The heavy armour the Brydon used. It had been shredded. He was dead. There was no coming back from that.

Major Iael had told us we'd see death in this mission. I realised then she hadn't been talking about the Kishne. She meant our Unit. I wonder if Wibowo knew he wasn't going to survive. He'd died in practice runs. We'd all died in practice runs. I know I never thought it was meant to be this way. Maybe he did. In which case, I honour his choice. I'm not sure I could have made it.

Tiro was gone as well. And Quanna. Three dead to capture one. I was okay but Fannar was wounded. The Black hadn't gone down easy.

"Bring the Black here," Major Iael ordered.

Fannar sent an affirmative. He could still move, barely. It would be up to me to carry the Black. I couldn't see the organic I knew was within the armour. I could feel the force of the glare. It hissed when I came close and said something. Over the noise of battle I didn't know what it said. I grabbed one appendage. The Enemy is bipedal. I think I got a leg. It struggled. I was still stronger. Grief drove me now. I would see the losses honoured. I wouldn't let them die in vain.

I began hauling it. The Black was heavy. No doubt all that armour. The ground wasn't even. I pulled harder. Several Kishne came closer, seeking to help. Two died. The Black wasn't defeated yet. Fannar hit the back of the suppression ring. That seemed to do the trick. The Black stopped moving. It hadn't been in place properly. In our defence, it's hard to tell with the armour much less in the chaos of battle.

I began hauling the Black again. There was no tell-tale hiss that it had suicided. There's always a hiss when they suicide. The chemicals that dissolve them leaking into their flesh. Sometimes they scream. I try to forget that noise. But even with the noise of combat, I would have heard that hiss. Other Kishne helped. I couldn't have done it without them.

We were moving away from the Black lines when we heard it. It was a roar that sounded like it came from a voice that had been tortured for eternity. I glanced back.

To this day, I wish I hadn't.

Something huge rose out of the Enemy lines. Like everything else they created it was black, but there, shining in the centre of it, was a light. It was too bright to look at. It crashed through the Blacks, heading towards the fighting. It was an avatar of death and destruction. It was a Destroyer. I'd only heard of them as rumours and in training. It was one of the Black's ultimate weapons. They had one here? Shock made me lose strength. Pickering's training ensured I didn't let go of the Black.

It was heading towards us.

---

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 5 - Escape

I know you've seen images of Destroyers. They show you want they look like from every angle. The images don't show you everything. You don't feel the sheer terror the Destroyer invokes. You don't feel the way the ground rumbles with its steps. You don't feel the need to abase yourself before it, begging forgiveness just by looking at them.

Of course you don't.

That's how I felt at the time. That's how everyone in the Alliance feels. That's why the Destroyers were so devastating. They barely needed to fight.

It was heading towards us.

Fannar, who was injured. Me, who was lugging the Enemy Commander. And the half dozen Kishne that were helping. None of us could fight a Destroyer. Even if we had Tiro, Quanna and Wibowo, we couldn't have fought a Destroyer. There is something primal in them.

"Move!" Major Iael's voice sounded in our ears. I don't know how she managed. I was sure she could see the Destroyer.

I wanted to move. I intended to move. I couldn't.

The Destroyer roared. The sound shook the bones of all present. Everyone felt it in their minds. Armour resonated with the cry. I was envious of those who were unconscious. They couldn't hear.

I could. It screamed for us to obey. As if that was going to happen! It was a Black. It could scream all it wanted. Except there was something deep inside that wanted to obey. It promised silence if I did.

"Move," Major Iael screamed again. There was a quaver in her voice this time. She could feel the Destroyer as well.

I ran. The Kishne who were helping ran with me. The Enemy Commander was heavy. Fannar tried to keep pace, tried to help, but it was obvious his wounds were slowing him down. Somehow, the regulars tried to hold the Destroyer back. It was insane. They couldn't do anything against it.

It roared again. At that, I fell to my knees. It hurt. There was a pressure on my mind. I wasn't alone in falling. The pressure drove me down. It dominated and I couldn't escape.

I could hear the Major gasping through the comm. She was back further but she was just as affected. The Destroyer came nearer. A deep fear entered me. We were going to fail. I was going to fail. We had come so close, yet I was going to fail.

Quanna, Wibowo, Tiro had died. And I was going to fail.

"Go," Fannar gasped.

I met the Gryna's eyes. His hood was flared. He was fighting to remain conscious. It was only then that I saw the blood. Fannar's armour had kept it hidden but it was leaking from his mouth now. He needed medical attention of the type he wasn't going to get here.

"Go," he said more strongly.

"No," I said. It wasn't a strong denial.

"That is the Enemy. Get it back to the Major. You have to," Fannar heaved a deep breath. "We trained for this."

The reminder wasn't necessary. We had trained for this. The possibility of losing some had always been there. I'd just never thought it would be a reality. No soldier does. If you do, that reality becomes you.

Fannar turned away. I knew better than to argue. I got back up and began hauling the Enemy Commander with more urgency.

"Just a little bit more," I chanted to myself. I focused on those words. It was the only thing that kept me going. It kept the pressure on my mind at bay. At least a little.

Every step was a chore. Kishne regulars rushed past me to the front. They tried to fight. They died. I could hear their screams. They only partially blocked the noise from the Destroyer. It still demanded to be obeyed.

Air support flew overhead. Missiles thudded into the Destroyer. It was lost in a conflagration of fire.

The shaking of the ground was evidence that the missiles hadn't worked. It emerged from the fire. It roared again. There was pain with the pressure. I thought my brain would explode. I kept moving. It wasn't training. It was those who had been lost that kept me moving.

The distance increased. Those fighting, those dying were keeping it back. The pressure decreased. The Black didn't get any lighter. Then I was at the transport. The Major was there. So was a squad of Intel's Special Forces. Their armour was black. It looked very much like the Enemy's.

They helped carry the Black into the transport. Major Iael moved with them. "Go!" she commanded the pilot. I slumped into the transport rack. The Enemy Commander was on the floor. Special Forces were pulling off other parts of armour. I saw skin. The organic below it.

The Destroyer roared again. Even in the shuttle I heard it. All work stopped. It had to.

I didn't fall because I'd already collapsed. Intel's Special Forces weren't that lucky. The pilot was. Somehow they kept flying. The distance decreased the effects but it was only when we got into orbit that it truly began to lessen.

"What was that?" I gasped the question.

"Keep securing the prisoner," the Major ordered. She was strapped into one of the seats.

Her men struggled to comply. They worked more frantically. More flesh was revealed.

I stared. I recognised the organic part. "It's… It's a Human," the words were blurted. For a moment I thought I'd made a horrible mistake.

Major Iael didn't appear concerned.

Anger took the place of doubt. "We died to capture a Human?" I hissed. My tone was Tiro's, just before he was about to strike. Fannar's poison laced my meaning. I could feel my team with me.

The W'ymic intelligence officer looked towards me. For a moment it appeared as if she'd forgotten I was here. I could feel his life being weighed in her gaze. A decision was made.

"It is a Human," Major Iael admitted. Her men continued to work. They pulled chain from somewhere. The Human was covered with it. Stays in the shuttle floor provided the anchoring points. "The Enemy slaves organics to machines," she added as if that should be informative enough.

I frowned. Then I thought. Lieutenant Pickering had tried to make us think, even as she trained us to react. The Human territory had been captured first. They would be the most readily available organics for the Enemy to slave.

"They're all Human?" I whispered.

"No. The Destroyer isn't," Major Iael said. She sounded sure.

"Then what is it?"

Another internal debate. My life wasn't on the line here, just the answers. They were probably classified. I'd lost my team. Sure we hadn't been a team for long, but they had been my team. I was owed answers. They were owed them.

"The Enemy slaves all organics to machines. Imagine what it can do with an almost infinite energy source?"

It took a few moments for the meaning to become clear. I felt cold. I felt sick. "They couldn't? They didn't?" The denials were weak, even to my ears.

The only being I knew that was energy was a Bright One. At least, that's what the Alliance taught us all. The Bright Ones were beings of ancient skill and wisdom. They had transcended their physical forms. That's why they led the Alliance. They spread their wisdom to the galaxy, to the other organics who had come after them. It was their gift.

To enslave one… I had felt the pain. The entire battlefield had. The Bright One had been screaming. It wanted to be obeyed. It wanted to be freed. I understood the scream now. It was in agony. It could not get free. It served the Enemy now. If we obeyed it, could we free it? I doubted that. I wasn't sure what could.

"So the Human?"

"Is just as enslaved. We didn't know what species we'd capture. It didn't matter. We're after what this Commander knows, not what they are," the Major seemed relaxed.

"FTL window opening," the pilot announced. The last of the Special Forces settled themselves. Usually, the transition was smooth. They couldn't count on it this time. "Five, four, three, two, one."

We all felt the slight bump that signalled the transition.

I swallowed hard. "So what happens now?"

The Major looked down at the Human. "They will be questioned. By the Bright Ones."

That much could be implied. It didn't answer the question I needed answered. It was selfish. What would happen to me? What would happen to those who had died? The Major finally seemed to realise that's what I wanted to know.

"Your squad succeeded," Iael announced. "They will be honoured."

I had no doubt that it was true, but her response was cold and clinical. She didn't care. She only cared that the job had been done. The blood didn't matter. The loss of life didn't concern her. They were only numbers. They'd all only been numbers to her. I was only a number.

"You will be honoured as well," she told him. "Promotion and reassignment. I will apply for some leave for you in the meantime." She thought that adequate reward. It was my due. It was nothing extra.

I nodded. Now was not the time to push further. "Where are we headed?" That was pertinent information. It was safe information. It kept me from thinking of those who had been lost.

"We are returning to Qaoloe and beyond that, it's classified."

I nodded. Qaoloe was where we'd trained. I'd now be alone. I wasn't sure what I thought of that. I couldn't think of that for now.

All I could really think of was the Enemy Commander who was chained to the floor. They had fought hard. They had killed many yet I couldn't bring myself to hate them. The Human was being used by the Enemy. It had no choice. The slaving would have ensured that.

It would probably be happy to tell the Bright One's everything it knew.

Knowing that at least some of the Blacks were Human made me think again of Pickering. Did she know? Did any of the Humans know? I could only conclude that they did. They had to know. They knew their Homeworld was the first to fall. They were the first species the Blacks, whatever they were, would have access too. Of course many beneath the armour would be Human.

Is that why Pickering was so strong? Why she trained them so well? Did she knew she was training them to kill her kind? Did she think it was mercy? That death was better than slavery.

I never could ask. How did you ask something like that? To someone who trained me to kill her own kind. In this case, ignorance was the only choice. The Major might have been uncaring enough to question. I couldn't. I didn't feel weakened by that. It was the limit of my strength.

I hoped the Human in front of me would be freed when the Bright Ones got the information. There should be no reason not to free them. They were a slave. I knew some wouldn't be as merciful. It wasn't my choice.

The tensions and stress of the day, of the battle, of everything caught up. I was reasonably safe. The shuttle was going FTL. My head hurt still. The Destroyer, that abomination had been loud. With the Major's explanation, I knew I really had heard it in my mind. It hurt. I still felt sick. But I couldn't remain awake. Sleep conquered consciousness and the darkness was welcomed.

The pain dimmed for a while.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 6 - Recovery

I woke up in an infirmary. It was better than waking up in a training barrack. I'm not sure how I'd have handled that. For a while, I just lay there. It was peaceful. At least, it was physically. I could still remember what had happened. I still felt the pain of losing my team.

Someone walked in. I didn't care. I kept lying there.

"You're awake, good." The tone was clinical. "Can you get up?"

I sighed. I wasn't going to be left in peace. "Yes."

"Get up. We have to give you a complete set of tests."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" It didn't make sense. I'd been tired after the battle, but nothing that required a complete set of tests. I think losing your team after having captured a Black Commander was reason enough to be tired.

Whoever it was sighed. "You came in contact with a Bright One's mind," came the explanation.

I finally looked over. A Kishne was standing there. Several marks denoted a doctor. I got up. Doctors generally outranked grunts. The fact that he knew the truth about a Destroyer, indicated a reasonable rank. Decency was maintained by a very thin shift. I sometimes wondered why we bothered. The species of the Alliance aren't compatible. Some of us can have fun together, but that's as far as it can go. Why should nudity matter? It didn't matter in a squad that was for sure. It wasn't the time to worry about that.

The Kishne lead the way out into the corridor.

"What about the others?" I was referring to those who had been fighting.

"They are being checked on Mautera."

That was good news. It meant the planet hadn't been lost. When a Destroyer appeared, that's what usually happened. I couldn't bring myself to ask further. We'd probably lose but we had at least made a gain.

"And the target?" It was best to refer to the Black like that.

The Doctor turned back, obviously judging what I already knew. "Major Iael has already taken the prisoner to the Bright Ones."

I wasn't sure what I felt about that. I knew it would happen, but it seemed quick. "How long was I out?"

"Just a day," the Doctor was used to answering that question it appeared.

We went into a treatment room. I didn't recognise most of the stuff. The Kishne conducted tests. I had no idea what they were for. I knew what some of them were, but I had no idea what they were going to reveal or what they were looking for. I must have done okay. The Kishne Doctor eventually waved me away.

"You're on leave for the next three weeks. You have the run of the facilities here, and there's a civilian town reasonably close."

I nodded. I knew that. I'd visited it in the brief down times we had during training. What else could be done? I wasn't being given a choice, the Doc's tone told me that. I was going to be on leave, and that was that.

I had almost gotten to the door when the Doc spoke again.

"There will be a memorial in two days, along with an award ceremony."

"Award?" It shouldn't be singular.

The Doctor looked at me oddly. "Yours was the only team to succeed. The others failed when the Destroyer emerged. I would suggest you take it easy for another day before doing anything strenuous."

I just nodded. My team succeeded. Did no one see the problem? The team didn't succeed. The squad wasn't successful, not when I was all that remained. That wasn't a team. Success had come with their deaths. I didn't want to take any award for simply surviving. I wasn't going to be able to argue. And the Doctor was just relaying the message from on high.

I nodded and then walked back to the room I had woken in. My armour and other possessions were there. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there. There was some food on the side table. I ate. It was routine. It was comforting.

The day passed until the lines of shadow told me the Qaoloe's sun was setting. I needed a drink. I was about to go to the mess when there was a knock on the door. I wasn't expecting anyone.

It was Pickering. She didn't look good.

I've always been a soldier. I was born as part of the quota. I have seen others die. I'd never had my entire squad die before. Not even on Haldra. Some of my squad had gotten out then but we'd gone our separate ways. But I'd also never thought about what it meant for the Trainers. She had trained us. She had taught us. And not just us, the other teams. She had trained us all.

I was the only one to come back. I never thought about how that might feel. I'm ashamed to admit I didn't really think about it then. All I cared about was that she was familiar. I needed familiarity then.

She'd brought food. It was probably against the rules. I didn't care. She didn't either. We ate in silence. I cared more for the liquids then. I was beginning to feel their lack.

"It was…" I'd never seen the Lieutenant at a loss for words. She was hesitant. I realised we weren't ranked now. In that room, at that time, we were just two beings who knew each other. "It was successful?"

I could tell she almost didn't want to know but at the same time was driven to find out. If not success, could she expect more teams to be trained?

"It was," I answered, barely a whisper. I nodded once. "It was."

I'm not sure what Pickering wanted to hear. I didn't know if she knew it was a Human beneath the armour. A Human who had fought and killed those she had trained. A Human we had freed. Earlier I couldn't bring myself to hate them. The Human had been controlled. They didn't know what they were doing. All the excuses that could be applied to a Black had held back the hate. Nothing held it back now.

I hated that Human. I hated everything it stood for. It had fought. It had killed. It had taken too much. Did it not know that the Alliance was freedom? That the Bright Ones watched over them. Did it care?

Did it care now? Maybe that was the better question. Had it woken up? I didn't know if it was male or female. Did that matter? I'd only ever really had Pickering as an example.

Pickering returned my nod. She let out a little breath that sounded relieved and resigned. Some weight had left, yet another had settled. She lifted one hand to her collar and rubbed along the length. "I thought so," she said finally. "I'd hoped so."

We sat in silence. The shadows lengthened into everything as the sky darkened. We sat into the night. The noise from the base was a comforting buzz. It let us know things were normal. As normal as they could be after battle.

"The Destroyer wasn't meant to be there," Pickering said finally.

So she had heard some specifics.

"No one ever expects them," I replied. I didn't know if she knew what they were. I deemed it best not to speak of that. I knew enough to know my reply was true. No one expected a Destroyer. They prayed to the Bright Ones that one didn't come. The Bright Ones… How could the Enemy do that? "It wasn't the issue." I added.

It would have been easy, so easy to let Pickering believe the Destroyer was what had caused us to be lost. For the other teams, that had been true. It wasn't for us. "We were evacuating when it emerged." The truth was brutal. I didn't want to remember. She didn't want to hear. It had to be this way.

"They died well?" In the darkness, I could see that Pickering's eyes were closed. Liquid glistened on the small hairs that lined the skin covering her eyes.

Is any death a good one? "They died well," I confirmed. Wibowo had made his choice. He had died doing what he thought was right, holding the Black Commander so that we could capture it. The other had followed suit.

Tiro was a lucky shot. Fannar knew what he was doing when he turned away and Quanna had known the risks.

They died well. As did the Kishne that tried to help.

"The Blacks are pushing hard to capture Mautera," she announced.

"It won't hold?"

"It can't hold."

I should have known the response. No one had ever fought a Destroyer before. Well, they had, but it destroyed the planet. Fall out was not pleasant. The Black's didn't use Destroyers much. Now that I knew what they were, I knew why. They couldn't have that many.

It didn't take me long to figure out why information about the Destroyers was classified. It would ignite the Alliance but what could they do? The Bright Ones were protected yet at the same time, they were our leaders. They had to lead. If the Alliance knew, there'd be an initial push, and then we'd make mistakes. And the Blacks would profit from those mistakes. They'd make more Destroyers. It was better that the Alliance as a whole didn't know. I almost wished I was part of that whole yet knowledge was comforting in a way. It was too early yet, but I could use it to fight back the pain of losing my squad.

"Where next?"

"Tactical's working on that," Pickering told me.

I translated. Tactical had no bloody idea. Someone would guess. We'd hope they got it right.

"You are still training?" The question was callous. I know that. I needed the familiarity.

Pickering seemed to realise it. "No. You don't think the regulars could handle me?" There was a ghost of a grin curling her lips. I'd learned how to read her expressions.

"What about Special Forces? They could use your training." If she trained them, they'd be good.

"There's others for that, and I won't train Intel." That was an interesting titbit. Intel's units were the best. I assumed Pickering had been on their training cycle. "Not even when a Bright One asks."

I stared. She refused a Bright One? That thought was paramount. No one refused a Bright One. They had given us so much. A more obvious thought caught up. She had seen a Bright One?

"Quanna was correct," Pickering spoke with a bittersweet amusement. "All Humans have seen a Bright One."

I wasn't sure how to answer that. I wasn't sure how she knew that!

"All of us," she reinforced.

"So why did you say no?" I had to know.

"This is an Alliance," Pickering replied. "Not a dictatorship. I don't have to train them."

"But, if you were ordered to-" Pickering outranked me, but she didn't outrank the Major. She was only a Lieutenant. How did she get away with such defiance?

She looked at me as if the answer should be obvious. In some ways it was. She was Human. That was enough. They had sacrificed enough. "I don't like what they stand for," Pickering told me. It was an odd statement. Intel was there to help us fight. Sure, their Special Forces had a nasty reputation but they were on our side. They weren't Blacks. That was enough for most.

"I can't-" The Lieutenant tensed. I tensed as well.

An alarm sounded. We listened.

"Shit!" Pickering swore. I shared the sentiment. The tone was invasion. "They're here." There was no need to say who they were.

"Why?"

I initially thought the question stupid the instant I uttered it. The answer should have been obvious. The Blacks were after their commander. But that didn't make sense. Why were they after this commander? We'd picked one at random from the line. The rank tokens were the same as others on Mautera. Then speculation ran through my mind.

What had we captured? The Major had said the Black was Human, but were they more than that? Was there something special about that Commander? Is that why the Destroyer had been there?

How had they managed to follow us? I could accept that there was a tracking signal in Black armour. We would have disabled it, and it wouldn't have worked in FTL. The Major's men would have ensured that, wouldn't they?

It was useless speculation. Did it really matter if I knew all those answers? The Blacks were here. That's really the only point that mattered.

"Get your armour," Pickering ordered. She was still familiar, except now she was an officer. I obeyed. If the Blacks were here, I wasn't on leave. No one was.

It might have only been two or three days, but it was a comforting weight. I was quick. I'd been on the front lines. You knew how to sleep, eat, piss and shit in armour. By the Bright Ones, I'm sure some could fuck in it. Not today. Today, I was likely to get fucked. Not without a fight.

The main parade grounds were a staging area. Perhaps it was a mistake to gather so openly but this was a training facility. There were lots of newbies here. Lots of those who just didn't know what to do. I found myself in charge of a platoon. Battlefield promotion. They were green. They managed to walk in step but that was about it.

They were gonna die. I felt bad about that. It wasn't my fault. I knew that. It was the Blacks' fault. They had still been regulated to my charge. I felt bad that I couldn't do more. We were assigned Training Ground One. The irony. I knew that place too well. At least I knew the way.

Maybe, we'd be lucky. We didn't know where the Blacks would target. Here for sure. Here was the only facility on this rock. That and the small township down the road. It wasn't much. It was here only for the base. Qaoloe was going to fall quick. I couldn't help the fatalistic thought.

At least the Black Commander wasn't here anymore. Major Iael had been right to haul out of here. She probably pushed me out the airlock herself. No, she had men for that.

I cleared my head, and set the babies up as best I could. I hoped they didn't shoot themselves in the dark. I hoped we'd only be on the periphery. I hoped I wouldn't die. I had a lot of hopes. At least the pain was dulled. It's hard to feel pain when you have so much to do. That was something. The training ground had lights. I didn't allow them on yet. Why advertise a landing ground?

Then, cutting through the atmosphere, the Black ships appeared, like wicked cutting knives. You couldn't hear them yet. They were all we could focus on. Their hulls glowed in the dark.

Until, it appeared. Another Destroyer. I recognised it from the bright centre. Even at this distance, it seemed to writhe. Now that I knew what it was, I couldn't help but think that. Then it screamed. It was all I could do to keep standing. Most of my greenies weren't that lucky.

I knew what it meant. Qaoloe was lost.

---

 

[Doomsough]

Something makes me think that collar isn't what everyone is being told it is.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 7 - Capture

Looking up at that thing, I realised I'd be finding out some truths about the Blacks pretty soon. The type of truths you morbidly wonder about but never really wanted to know. What did it feel like being slaved to a machine? Did it hurt? Could you still think for yourself but be forced to obey?

Those were the positive thoughts. The less positive ones related to the Blacks just killing us all. They probably had the firepower. If they were feeling that vindictive, they wouldn't even have to land. A well-placed kinetic shot would do it. It wasn't like Qaoloe was valuable.

But the presence of the Destroyer indicated they were landing. That meant we would fight. Surrender wasn't an option.

The Kishne spread as ordered. The training ground was oval shaped. There were two major entries but they weren't the only points of ingress. Until the Blacks landed, their path of attack would not be clear.

We waited. The night sky lit up as the defences began firing. The streams of light were almost beautiful. A few hit. The ships exploded, the debris falling faster before burning out. The installations took return fire. The Blacks were vicious.

The ground troops could do nothing more than wait. The first Black ships landed. They took a conservative approach. They landed in the outskirts. Above, the Destroyer remained. Its screams piercing into the minds of all present.

"Hold steady," I yelled to the Kishne I'd been assigned. "Hold steady."

Several Kishne looked sick. I could sympathise. I remembered my first battle. There hadn't been a Destroyer there but it had been bad enough. The Kishne might not know what a Destroyer was but they could tell it was unnatural. I listened to the chatter on the comms. Sensor techs were outlining where the Blacks were landing. They weren't yet advancing. Why bother when you could come in force?

It was a tense wait. The pain from the Destroyer just got worse. Maybe the Blacks were waiting for us to collapse? This one wasn't screaming to be obeyed. It was just screaming. I didn't like the implication that I could identify them. That seemed wrong.

The techs announced the first charge. It wasn't towards us. I was thankful for that. I needed these newbies to see that the Blacks could be fought before they made it here. It would help them hold. As much as anything would. The initial clash let me reorganise slightly. We now knew which direction the Blacks were coming from.

The Destroyer didn't move. It remained above us. The ground defenses couldn't hit it. I could see the streams of fire trying. They didn't come close. The headache from its cries got worse.

"Hold steady," I urged. The words were pitiful. There wasn't anything else I could do.

"Need some backup?"

I jumped at the offer. It was Lieutenant Pickering. I saluted. Even with the field promotion she still outranked me. She waved it away.

"Back up is appreciated, Sir," I replied to the earlier offer.

Pickering nodded, and moved into place. It felt odd that she would obey. There was no time to question it, not when one of the comm techs screamed. "Incoming, training ground one."

There was a moment of stillness. Then they all realised. It meant the Blacks were coming here.

"Prepare to fire!" I yelled. Pickering gave me a nod. She approved of how steady I was. She took aim.

Then the Blacks appeared. They weren't normal. Even with the building pain, I frowned. I'd never seen these ones. They were quadruped and fast.

"Fire!"

The guns roared. The leading wave fell. My Kishne kept firing. The second wave got further, yet they didn't slow down. The third and fourth leapt over the dead. Like all Blacks they didn't seem to feel anything at the losses. I wondered if they had headaches as well, if the Destroyer affected them.

The fifth wave reached our lines. One of the Kishne screamed as they fell. The others kept fighting. They had realised there was no other choice. It was fight or die. Pickering continued to fire. I joined her. We fought as one. I grimaced as each of the Kishne fell. They were just children. I wanted to scream that at the Blacks. They wouldn't care.

We fought off the eighth and ninth wave. At least, I thought it was that number. The Kishne had taken out some. Then more familiar Blacks appeared. Bipedal and of course huge in their black armour. I scanned for a Commander. I couldn't see one, yet I was sure that one of them was. I wondered if the markings had been changed since my mission.

The Blacks charged. I fired. Pickering fired. We couldn't hold that many back. The wave crashed into us. I fell. I kept struggling. I expected a flash of pain, when one of the Blacks stabbed me or shoot me. I'd long ago given up the notion of dying painlessly. The most I'd hoped for was that I would get to pass on my genes to a neuter. That wasn't going to happen.

But there was no pain of death. The Blacks held me down, pinned. I felt a flash of fear. Did they know I'd been on the mission to capture that Commander? Did they want vengeance?

I struggled harder. The Blacks didn't even budge. From the corner of my eye, I could see Pickering similarly pinned. She was straining. It was disconcerting to see that the Blacks weren't moving. I knew the Human was strong. How strong were the Blacks? It wasn't fair!

One of the Blacks leaned close to Pickering. They were examining the collar that adorned her neck. It was the thing holding her microbes as bay. Were they going to remove it?

"No!" I screamed. "Don't!" I added. I had no idea if they understood. They were simple words. I hoped.

I found out when one turned to me. The faceless black mask just stared. I would have crumpled beneath the gaze if I wasn't already pinned. I don't know how but I glared back. It was bravado. "Don't take it off," I half pleaded. They had to understand. It was for the good of everyone here.

The barrel of a gun materialised between my eyes. I gulped. The Blacks might not speak my language, yet their message was clear. Even now, I wasn't suicidal enough to insist.

Instead, I watched as one of the Blacks reached out. Surprisingly dexterous manipulators, covered in armour of course, grasped Pickering's collar. She struggled hard. She was doing her best to prevent it. They were simply too strong.

The collar cracked. I could hear it from where I lay. Lieutenant Pickering stiffened. Her expression became blank. The collar fell away. It didn't fall far. The stiffness in her body disappeared. She collapsed. The Blacks appeared to be expecting that. They rose, releasing her. Pickering didn't move. One of them reached to the back of her neck. It pulled out the remains of the collar. Red blood dripped from the probes.

"What have you done to her?" I yelled stupidly. I liked Pickering. She was one of the few familiars I had remaining.

The Blacks ignored me. I watched as they pushed something to the back of Pickering's neck. It wasn't black. It was white. Gauze? I frowned. Why would they be treating her wound?

"What have you done?" I yelled again. The gun never wavered. One of the Blacks picked up Pickering. She hung limply from the armoured manipulator.

I was ignored.

The Blacks didn't appear concerned. Why should they be? They were in control here. They said something. I recognised several voices. They were probably discussing me. The gun still didn't move. I didn't feel afraid. The worst had already happened. I kept his eyes on Pickering.

"Don't take her away!" I screamed. The one carrying Pickering had turned away.

That got their attention. The Blacks turned to me. I glared into their faceless masks. They were silent.

"Why?"

The question caught me by surprise. They were speaking the Alliance common tongue. They had understood. Well of course they understood me, they had been reacting to my cries. The real surprise was that they could talk to me. I wasn't surprised that they knew the language, I just had no idea that the regular troops had a translator. Or were allowed to speak to us.

"Why?" the Black demanded again.

"She's my friend," I answered. I glared at the one I thought had spoken, daring them to contradict me.

"Your friend?" It was sceptical.

"My friend," I repeated. My mind stumbled, trying to remember words from other Alliance languages. My vocabulary was not up to the task. I knew how to swear. I didn't know how to say friend.

Another Black said something. The one I thought had questioned me turned to them. They argued. I didn't understand the words but I knew the tone. I didn't know what to do. They were arguing over my life.

The one who had questioned me drew back. I understood the gesture. At least, I thought I did. There was motion behind me, and a flash of pain. It was more than I was already feeling because of the Destroyer, then everything went black.

---

I awoke. That was mildly surprising. I hadn't expected to awaken. I hurt. The pain wasn't just physical. My head was pounding. I could remember the Destroyer. I didn't open my eyes. Instinctively, I knew that would feel better.

I didn't need to try to remember. I knew what had happened. Through the pounding in my head, I wondered what would happen now. I had no idea. Beyond being slaved to a machine. That was probably going to happen. That's what the Alliance said happened.

I was lying on something hard. My armour had been stripped. There was something covering me so I wasn't naked. I didn't have any weapons. That was easy to tell.

I kept still. I didn't know how long I lay there. I tried to listen for something but there was nothing to hear. The silence was unnerving. Eventually, I had to open my eyes. The light was dim. It was blurry. I strained. Some things came into focus, others remained stubbornly fuzzy. It was a function of the light. It was diffuse, the kind of light that filtered through semi-transparent material. I couldn't tell what time it was.

There was enough light to recognise where I was. It was one of the barracks. I wasn't alone. There were others here. It was too early to say if that was a relief. I moved. The pain redoubled. I kept from crying out by my body's needs were becoming urgent. There was no choice. I had to move.

I swung my legs over, letting them fall to the ground. My joints felt strong enough. They would hold me. I rose. I only staggered once, but remained upright. Thankfully, Alliance barracks were the same. I knew where the facilities were. My head never stopped hurting but I made it in time. I got some water as well. That helped my headache.

It was only after my needs were taken care of that I looked at the others. I didn't recognised anyone specifically, but I knew the species. They were all Alliance. There were Kishne, Zarthan and Opar. They were still unconscious, or asleep. I didn't know which. I wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

The Alliance didn't exactly tell us what happened to captured troops. I went back to the pallet I had been lying on. That seemed the safest option. As I sat, I looked around, examining those who were with me. That Kishne looked like one of the newbies I'd been assigned. I hadn't known them for long. I didn't know the markings well enough. There was a Zarthan I knew I'd seen before. The pattern in their short fur was distinctive.

Pickering was absent. Of course, she was. The Blacks had shown her special attention. Had they known she was an officer? I was still in my regular gear. Battlefield promotions in the face of Black attacks tended to be swift but short lived. It wasn't like rank conferred the ability to fight. We'd all be Generals if it did.

The silence left me time to think. I remembered the gun at my head. It hadn't wavered. The Black's questions stuck in my mind. Why had I answered like that?

I realised the truth. I considered the Human a friend. Not a good one. There hadn't been time for that to develop but she was someone who understood what I was going through. She was a friend. I had been hoping to get to know her better on my break time. She'd still outrank me but I'd been on leave. Rank didn't matter when you were on leave.

Except she wasn't here. I didn't think she'd be in another barracks. Not with the way the Blacks had carried her. Not with the way they had argued. I didn't know the words but I understood the actions. They had wanted her. She was the reason the Blacks had captured us.

That left one question: why?

No answers were forthcoming. Answers didn't come for some time.

---

And that's how the training planet of Qaoloe fell. A Destroyer over the facility. A short battle. The Alliance made no effort to retake Qaoloe. It wasn't worth it. It was a relatively small facility. Of course, I only found that out later. If I'd have thought about it at the time, I would have realised. I didn't. Which is not to say I lived with the hope of rescue. That would have been stupid. I knew how many planets had been retaken. The number wasn't high.

So the survivors of the battle were taken prisoner. That's what I was. A prisoner of war. I didn't know that term yet. It was an interesting one.

Prisoner of war. An enemy soldier captured by their foe. I could see other meanings. We were all prisoners. The war had gone on and on and no one remembered why. Did that not make us prisoners of the war? Because we knew no other life? Being the first to awaken gave me far too much time to think. I didn't like my thoughts. I was still stuck with them. The esoteric ones were in some ways better than the others. If I was thinking them, I wasn't thinking about the future, and all the possibilities therein. I was feeling morbid.

There was a Black machine with my name on it. I tried not to think about it. I didn't have the imagination to truly envisage what it might be like, but in captivity, your imagination runs wild with all the horrors that could be inflicted.

These weren't battlefield horrors. I'd seen enough of them to be relaxed. These were real. These were more ephemeral and transient, yet they never stayed away for long.

When the others started waking, it was a welcome distraction. I was shocked when they turned to me for instruction. I wasn't an officer. The battlefield promotion hadn't been that well known. It would probably never be recorded in the Alliance. I realised it wasn't that.

They knew what mission I'd been on. That conferred seniority. That was scary in a whole new way.

---

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 8 - Captivity

That first day, the Blacks were content to let us wake on our own. Such laxity didn't continue. That in itself was a comfort. They couldn't be Blacks if they were nice.

The headache had faded by the second day. Maybe they knew that was the effect of the Destroyer. That's probable. They fed us in the morning, making sure we ate and drank sufficiently. The orders were terse but easily understood.

Then we were put to work. It wasn't complicated work. We had to clean up the debris from the battle. It was obvious the Blacks had already done some of it. There were no weapons. There were bodies. Blood spattered around them. We collected them first. The Blacks then disposed of them. They didn't object when the Brydon said prayers over their kind who had died. That was a surprise. There'd been several squads of new troops training here from all the species in the Alliance. At least some of each had survived.

I ordered the others to work. There was little point in resisting. We'd be slaved to machines if we did. We worked with the other groups. The Enemy had put us all in the training barracks. Each barrack was a work unit. First, we cleared the bodies. That took half a day. The battle hadn't been over a large area.

Then we began on the debris. There weren't even any weapons hidden in the debris. In the evening of the first day, the Blacks fed us again and then trooped us back to the barrack. The group settled. A couple of them looked at me. I didn't know what to say.

"Just keep working," I urged.

"We have to escape," one of the Kishne objected in the fading light.

The Blacks were letting us sleep at night. We were locked in. The windows were frosted but in the light you could see the quadruped Blacks stalking around. I was willing to bet they wouldn't take prisoners.

"Escape where?" The Kishne was obviously young. I saw it think in reply to my question. Qaoloe wasn't known for its resources. "This is the only settlement on the planet. The Blacks won't let you near their ships. Even if you got on one, you don't know how to fly it. They are using translators when they talk." I paused, assessing if the message had gotten through.

Most in the barracks were settling down for the night. They were tired. They understood.

"We have to fight!"

I sighed heavily. "With what?" I challenged. "We have our natural weapons, but they won't even scratch Black armour. Have you ever seen someone try to fight without synth claws? It doesn't end well." I was letting experience speak. I hadn't actually seen it, but I'd seen enough fighting to know what would happen. "You want to fight, go ahead. Open the door. But don't expect the rest of us to back you up."

Most nodded with agreement. The Kishne huffed. I could tell he was offended. I really hoped the Blacks wouldn't take the action of one as the action of all. It would be a way of controlling us, of making us turn on each other.

"You are just waiting to be slaved."

"Maybe." I couldn't really say anything else. I didn't know what I was waiting for then. Over the next few days, I figured it out. I wanted to see Pickering. She hadn't been with any of the groups we'd seen today, but we hadn't seen everyone.

The answer cost some support. I couldn't help it. I wasn't going to pretend I had all the answers. "We'll see what they do as time goes on." That was the best compromise I could make. It was the most sensible course of action.

That's what I did. Time went on. The Blacks fed us twice a day and worked us in between. We were cheap. We only cost the food we ate and a bit of supervision. That's hardly anything at all. The food wasn't good but there was enough. The water was clean and fresh. There was enough. The Blacks let us carry some each day.

We cleaned the debris from the facility first. Then, surprisingly, they made us clean the township. The civilians were still there. They were controlled but they were there. They didn't know what else was going on. They told us that the Blacks had insisted they continue their lives, as best they could.

Then we began rebuilding. The township and the facility weren't large so it didn't take that long. Especially not with us all working. I didn't know what we would be doing afterwards.

There were those who tried to fight, including the young Kishne. Nothing I said penetrated. He slipped out one night and that was the last we saw of him. Other offenders, the Blacks executed, if they weren't killed performing whatever their offense was. I assume that's what happened to the Kishne. They didn't make a production out of it though. The offenders were escorted to a particular area, shot, and the bodies removed. It was efficient. I guess they knew that there is a limit to fear. You can only fear so much before it becomes meaningless. They did leave the blood.

I think the efficiency was actually more fearsome. It meant they didn't fear us but then they had no reason to. The Alliance wasn't going to take the planet back.

Of course, as time went on, questions began arising. I'd discovered that Lieutenant Pickering wasn't with any of the barracks. I wasn't sure if she'd been the only Human on the planet but I quickly found out there were no Humans in the barracks.

There was one major change with the barracks in that time. I don't know what the Opar was thinking. Most of the Alliance species aren't compatible for each other. Those that were here were soldiers, or they were meant to be. One of the Opar got pregnant. That led the Blacks to reorganise the barracks. They introduced gender separation. We didn't need a translator to know that the Black who announced it was angry about the situation.

We still saw the other barracks each morning and evening, but in as far as possible the male barracks were given separate works from the females, and the neuters. That was an odd point. The separation of male and female happened instantly. The neuters were left in place for a few more days. Not every species has them. The Dranta and the W'ymic do, though they work differently.

Someone joked that the Blacks couldn't have them. I don't know what happened. The rumour mill had that it was a W'ymic neuter that was going into a female phase who had been left in the male barracks requested transfer. Dranta neuters don't go through gender phases. They are neither. They collect material from male and female and bear the new children. They are honoured though. All Dranta respected them.

The Blacks acted on the information.

Neuters became the third barrack. It was smaller than the rest. They were kept separate as well. Surprisingly the pregnant Opar was left with us. The woman wasn't executed. I wondered if the pregnancy had been an elaborate suicide attempt. There seemed easier ways. I never got the chance to ask. The Opar fussed over her at each meal. The Blacks allowed that much. She seemed healthy enough. No one else got pregnant.

A couple of weeks later, I don't know what came over me. I approached the Black that was watching us. It was one of the bipeds with several of the quadrupeds. I guess that's what was common behind the lines. It's not like the Alliance told us. The quadruped Blacks growled when I came close. The other Black, the biped, waved one appendage at them. They stilled. I took the warning though and didn't approach further.

"Where is Lieutenant Pickering?" I thought my heart would explode. I expected the Black to shift, to level its weapon at me. It just looked down. It was silent. I knew it had a translator, but I still felt stupid. Why would it know who Pickering was? "The Human?"

I don't know if it was going to answer. There was a cry from behind us. The Blacks gun levelled at me. The noise could be a deliberate distraction. What I did next wasn't the smartest thing. I turned, exposing my back. It at least displayed to the Black this wasn't the beginning of a trap.

A Zarthan had collapsed. His name was Enite. It was actually something much longer. Like Tiro, he had given a nickname that was easier for the rest of us to use. Enite was shivering. The Black stayed where it was. It didn't approach. Approaching would put it in the middle of us. That was dangerous. Never let it be said the Blacks, even the lower ranks, were stupid.

One of the quadrupeds went forward. I went to do what I could. I had no idea what that would be. The quadruped seemed to sniff at Enite. I was a bit more direct.

"Are you okay?"

"Water," Enite gasped. Several small flasks were offered. I snagged one and held it to Enite's mouth.

He sipped, but then spat it out. "Salts." His voice was weak. I didn't understand.

"Salts?"

One of the other Zarthan heard. "He needs salt water," they explained.

That triggered the memory. Tiro had always drunk water that was salty. The Zarthan needed it. The Blacks had only given us fresh. The Zarthan that had explained didn't look the best either. I guess they all needed the extra salts.

I turned back to the Black. The quadruped had shifted back. "He needs salt water." My concern about Pickering was lost in the more immediate need.

The Black again said nothing. I knew it could speak. It gave us instructions every morning, telling us in a terse, but translated voice what we were to do each day.

"All of you, pick him up. Take him back to your barracks." The order was still terse.

We obeyed. The Blacks escorted us past the other work groups. They looked curious but didn't get a chance to question us. We made it back to the barrack. There was water waiting. Salt water. That was a surprise. The Black had obviously communicated with the others. They had left the provisions. The Black locked us in. For the moment we didn't care.

Enite drank. So did the other Zarthan. They perked up immediately.

The rest of us settled down but we had questions. I knew we did. I had them. The others had to have at least some. The Enemy made no sense. They had let the Opar live. They now provided provisions for the Zarthan. That wasn't the actions of the vicious, brutal species we had been told about. They seemed to care. At least peripherally.

I could sort of understand their actions with the civilians. They hadn't fought. They were not a risk. We were soldiers. We knew the risks. We had fought. I had at least. I had killed them. Yet they were providing necessary resources.

We were let out for the evening meal. There was now fresh and saltwater. Zarthan from the other barracks drank greedily. I guess Enite had just been the first to collapse.

It still made no sense. They had no obligation to care for us. And as far as I knew, no one had been taken and slaved to a machine.

I didn't go all mushy. I couldn't. I still remembered the Destroyer. That was a Bright One. It was obviously slaved. I could still remember the pain of its screams. But the Blacks were taking care of us. There was enough food and water. They kept us in reasonable conditions. We had to work but there was no other abuse. It made no sense.

My confusion gave me courage. I ate quickly, then walked up to one of the other Blacks. Again, the quadruped Blacks growled. I took that as the distance I was allowed. I stopped.

"Thank you for the water for Enite," I said. I figured I could be polite.

The Black just glared.

I swallowed. This one was different from the others. It seemed much more aggressive. I don't know how I knew that. I ploughed on. I'd made the approach, it would stick with it. "Where is Lieutenant Pickering? The Human." I asked the same question as earlier. The guard had obviously communicated with someone. Maybe it had communicated my question as well.

I became aware of the others watching. At least some of them remembered Pickering. They would have been trained by her.

The Black continued to glare. I felt stupid but I remained in position. I wanted an answer. "She has been taken to Earth."

I didn't expect that answer. "Her homeworld?" That was surprising.

"Her homeworld," the Black repeated. It sounded almost amused.

I didn't know how to reply to that. I mean, on one hand I felt happy for her. She would see her species homeworld, something the Alliance never deemed possible. On the other hand, she was being taken to the centre of the Enemy's territory. The first system lost had been Sol. Their possession of it had never been challenged. We had no idea what was happening there.

They were taking Pickering there.

"Why?" I froze when the question slipped out. So did the tables behind me. I could sense that some were curious for the answer. Others thought I was a traitor. I ignored that sentiment. I was asking about one of us.

"Where else would we take a Human?" the Black replied. It then dismissed me. It didn't turn away, but I definitely got the impression I was to leave. It was in the way the quadrupeds shifted. Some things didn't need translation.

I heaved a deep breath. I turned away. I had a lot to think about.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 9 - Confusion

Weeks turned into months. Once a month, we had a day off. The Blacks herded us into one of the training areas and left us to our own devices then. They didn't care what we did.

The barracks split. There were those who thought we should fight. They became very discreet. They fought by not working well. Occasionally they went too far. If they didn't get dead, then they got put into solitary. They considered that a victory. I knew they were working on something bigger. I had no idea what.

Somehow, I'd become the leader of those who took a more peaceful view. So long as we were alive, and reasonably treated, there was no point in risking death. The Blacks had been surprisingly good. The loss of liberty was expected. I had expected beatings, and starvation leading to enslavement. We were slave labour but again, that was well within the envisaged possibilities.

We figured out how to speak between barracks at night. The windows were frosted, but you could still send light signals, and the Blacks didn't care how we sat during meals. You might think it was carelessness. They were always careful at other times. The aggressive barracks became frustrated at that.

Eventually, it became obvious the Blacks were shipping in work. There simply wasn't enough stuff to do on this planet after we'd cleaned up the damage from battle. Qaoloe was a rock with atmosphere. It didn't have much else going for it. That's why it had only been lightly settled. It wasn't really good for farming and it wasn't resource rich. The system was, but not the planet. They weren't about to trust us to mine in space. The Blacks had drones for that.

Over time, the Blacks built a refinery. We worked there. I wasn't sure what we were making. They were reasonably small parts with a tube shape. The Blacks needed hundreds of thousands. I didn't recognise them. They made sure no raw materials went missing. They weren't stupid. Not knowing what they were, while the aggressive barracks could sabotage our work, they couldn't do it subtly.

Once the pregnant Opar got too large, the Blacks excused her from work. They kept feeding her. It reinforced my position of peace. It wasn't a good position. It was boring but we were alive. Then she gave birth. The Blacks allowed several other Opar women to assist. They provided materials the Opar said were necessary.

That sort of assistance was odd but we'd become used to it. The more aggressive barracks split further from us. They saw that as a Black attempt to buy favour. It was. I won't deny that. It did work though, especially when the Blacks let the Opar keep her child. I rarely saw the brat. I'm told it was doted on in that barrack.

Then a month or so later, the Opar woman was taken to see the Base Commander. I don't know what was said. We only saw the outcome. Three days later, several Blacks singled her out at the morning meal. The woman saw them and nodded. She picked up her child and went with the Blacks. Alone.

Now that, even for my barrack faction, was something you didn't do. The Opar made placating gestures. We'd all learned how to read the body language of those in the Alliance. Close contact ensured that. One of the Blacks handed her something.

I stared. It was a collar. It looked the same as the one Pickering had worn. Except the Opar didn't have any dangerous microbes. There was nothing we needed to be protected from. She put it on without hesitation. One of the Blacks checked it, ensuring the needles in the back of the neck were positioned correctly. Then they put one on the child. It screamed. She shushed it. It quietened remarkable quickly.

Then they were escorted out. That was the last anyone saw of them.

The Blacks were expecting trouble. There were more than normal there that day. The quadrupeds were patrolling the aisles. It worked. The aggressive barracks had taken the view they wanted to live to see their victory. I wondered how much longer that view would hold. Obviously, the Blacks did as well. Say what you want about the Enemy, they aren't stupid.

What we didn't know at the time was that the shuttle the Opar left on had brought a new Base Commander. There was a Black in charge of everything. We knew there was one. We hadn't seen them. Apparently, they had felt no need to lord it over us. The new one had different ideas.

The next morning there was a holoprojector in the mess. One of the Blacks stood beside it. "The Commander thinks you lot need to know how the war is going," they announced.

That brought silence. Obviously, we'd been thinking about it. There was no reliable news. The Blacks didn't speak when asked. The projector displayed a map. It took a moment to realise what it was of but we'd all seen galactic overview maps. The Black one was on its side. It was rotated about 90 degrees from what I was used to. I guess that's what they were used to.

There were colours on that map. The Alliance was red. The Blacks were blue. Several key systems were marked. I automatically sought out Drana. I know the others sought their homeworlds. It was marked clearly. It was getting frighteningly close to the front. The Bright Ones world, Cyndya, was marked the most prominently. I guess the Blacks thought about it as the head of the Alliance. That was true. It was still well protected.

Then I looked at the Black territory. It was shaded blue. Between the red and blue there was a yellow line. Disputed territory I realised.

The Black named systems didn't mean much, until I saw Sol. It was prominent. That was surprising. It had the same prominence as the Bright Ones' system. Did that mean the Blacks thought of Earth as their homeworld? That didn't make sense. Earth was the first to fall, true, but it wasn't the Black's origin world. That's what we'd all been taught. I dismissed the thought. They were Blacks. They had no reason to show prisoners of war the truth.

Actually, they had every reason to lie. If we were recaptured, we would tell the Alliance what we had seen. Displaying Sol prominently made sense from that position. We all knew it was the first system to fall. They gave away nothing with the map.

All it told us was their position. If it was true, the Enemy had made significant inroads. I didn't think anything had changed. They appeared to be moving faster.

The map zoomed in. It displayed Qaoloe. We were far behind the disputed territory. I know why they showed us that. It displayed very clearly that there was no chance of rescue. I glanced at the leader of the aggressive barracks. It was a W'ymic woman by the name of Arbriana. She was patient, but no nonsense. I knew she'd have problems with her faction. I looked away before she noticed. They already accused us of conspiring with the Blacks. We didn't need it to happen again.

The Black let us view the map for a few moments longer, before it was packed up, and the projector removed. They then displayed the same thing once a week. Its purpose was obvious. They wished to break us. Not my faction. Arbriana's. It was working. Some had already come to mine. The others held onto their hatred. I guess they didn't know anything else.

I had other things to distract me. One of the Black guards asked me a question. I was shocked by it. "Do you play Drantanara?"

Of course I played Drantanara. I was a Dranta. We all played. "Not well." I hadn't played for at least a year. The Black didn't appear concerned. It motioned for me to follow. That was disconcerting but I had no choice.

The Black led me into places we hadn't been allowed. There were more Blacks in the corridors and the quadrupeds prowled. They growled at me but made no other challenge. Eventually we stopped before an office. The Black knocked, then entered. I followed.

Another Black was waiting. They seemed different. The Enemy I'd fought until then had been bipedal, like most of the Alliance. The quadrupeds had been new at Qaoloe. Most of the bipeds I'd seen were similar. This one was bulkier somehow.

I was left alone with the Black. That was surprising. Usually they liked to make sure us prisoners were not given even the illusion of power.

"Sit down." The Black gestured. I saw a game of Drantanara set up. It was obvious where I was meant to sit. The Black Commander played? I assumed that's what this one was.

I sat. The Black moved and sat opposite. It took its helmet off. I stared in shock. It was a Dranta. She seemed amused by my surprise.

"Yes, I'm a Dranta."

I retained enough sense, barely, to avoid calling her a traitor. Obviously, I had questions. I noticed a collar around her neck. I'd seen the one going around the Opar's neck, it had seemed similar to Pickering's, but I wasn't sure, since it was from a distance. This was closer. This was definitely like Pickering's.

"I'm what you'd call a second gen."

I didn't understand. It must have showed.

"My parents were civilians on a planet the Alliance lost," the Commander explained.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. I stared at the collar. Was that the interface for the slaving? I didn't know. It didn't explain why Pickering's was the same.

She waved away the apology. "What are you sorry for? I know I'm on the right side." She sounded confident.

"But…" The objection was automatic.

"You've been told everyone on the captured planets is killed or slaved to machines. You know that's not the case. Lives are different but they go on. Still, you were raised in the Alliance," she explained. "I was raised in what you call Black Territory. I chose to enlist in their army."

That surprised me. We were told that organics were simply a tool for the machines in the Enemy fleet. The Dranta was implying things were different. My experience was telling me the same. I was confused.

"I was going to suggest a game of Drantanara, but I don't think you are in the right frame of mind," the Black Commander said.

I wasn't. I could barely focus. The idea that those who we thought lost might still be alive hurt. The fact that she'd signed up voluntarily was difficult to accept. I'd done the same but that was different. I'd been expected to. I was born as part of a quota. But others in the Alliance signed up all the time. It was the same as her. Except it wasn't. It was hard to think that the Blacks might think themselves justified. It went against a lifetime of thought. I should have realised it but I'd always been told they were controlled. That meant they didn't really think.

And she had a collar on… wasn't that a sign of slavery? Why did she have that collar on? It wasn't for microbes. It couldn't be. Dranta are kind of boring that way.

"Think on it for a while, and I'll call you back in a few more days." She rose and went back to her desk. "Oh," she turned to me, eyes suddenly hard. "Tell Arbriana that my patience is not infinite."

I didn't think I could be surprised again. I was proven wrong. The Blacks knew about the barrack factions. They knew who led which one. Arbriana was on borrowed time. I didn't know what to say. Did I say I'd try and admit to knowing what she represented, or did I say nothing and try to bluff my way through it? The Black Commander smiled gently. She seemed to sense my dilemma.

"Go." That was a command.

I rose and stumbled from the office. The other Black met me in the corridor. I don't remember the trip back to the barrack. I don't remember much of anything. Nothing made sense.

The barrack was glad to see me. They'd been on the verge of doing something stupid. That made me focus. I told them not to worry. It made some worry more. I had to explain what had happened. I left out the fact that the new Commander was a Dranta. I still wasn't sure what I thought of that. I was used to believing there were controlled Humans under the armour. That was familiar. It didn't hurt as much. Knowing that I had fought Dranta and other Alliance species hurt. They had signed up with the Enemy. Did they not understand the Bright Ones offered freedom?

Why? In the end, that was the only question that mattered. I realised I had to see the Commander again. I would see the Commander again. I would be more controlled next time. I would find answers. No matter how difficult.

There was something just not right somewhere. I desperately hoped it was a Black lie, a Black conspiracy but there were questions being raised in the certainty of my beliefs. That was an uncomfortable feeling because if the truths about the Black forces were a lie, then what else about the Alliance was a lie?

I didn't want those answers. I absolutely had to have those answers.

They say the truth will set you free. It doesn't apply when you have two truths that conflict. Then the truth only chains you down and I was held fast.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 10 - Experiment

The Black Commander, the Dranta, kept inviting me to play Drantanara. She wasn't a great player but she was good enough. It eroded my support. When I pointed that out, she invited other Dranta to play with her. It quickly got out that she was Dranta.

That split the barracks again. I was looked at as a traitor for not having spoken sooner. I tried to explain. It wasn't really the Commander's fault. She'd been raised on the Black side, so of course she was going to think they were right. That was only logical. It wasn't seen like that. At least no one attempted to say we should free her. The Commander would have signed their execution papers within an hour. There were those who thought she was slaved to a machine. I had to admit that was possible, so did the other Dranta she played with. We had no idea what that collar was for and I wasn't the only one who had noticed the similarities between that one, and the one the Opar had put on.

The Opar, and her child, had been the only one who'd left us peacefully.

"Why did you take that Opar away?" I asked one day. The game was going my way. I felt bold.

"That Opar?" the Commander asked. She frowned slightly. She'd never told me her name. When I'd asked, she'd told me it was written on her desk. She'd even shown me the name plate. It was written in Black script. I had no idea what it said.

"The one that had the kid," I clarified.

Her confusion turned to surprise. "A POW Camp is no place to raise a child," she told me as if that should be obvious. I nodded. It was obvious. "We offered her a place with one of the Opar colonies."

The Commander had gotten good at reading me. The look she directed at my confusion told me to think. I quickly realised that there were multiple planets in Black Territory. The Alliance had lost so many. There were plenty of civilians, and POWs within their area.

It lead to a new question. What happened to us? The war had been going for generations. I knew what the maps looked like. It wasn't going to end soon, either.

The Commander muttered something in Black. I think she'd been waiting for me to make that realisation. On some level, I had already made it, I'd just avoided thinking about it. Now I had no choice.

She pushed the game away completely. I'd been winning. I had no focus now. "Usually we'd be a lot harsher," she announced. "The genders would have been separated completely from the outset. There would be a male facility and a female facility. Neuters would have been distributed between, but never moved. You are soldiers after all. Civilians have it a bit easier," she added. She had told me she was a second gen, so obviously civilians could have children.

Her glance made me nod. This has been going on for a while. It made sense.

"For the soldiers, this is your life. Those that have been captured have lived out their lives in similar conditions to the ones you know. They are fed, they work, they are fed and they sleep, and repeat."

That was the rhythm to our lives. I imagined it going on until my death. I shuddered.

"Since we've been doing it for a few generations, you can rest assured our vigilance will not wane," the Commander added the emphasis. "The prisons are eventually closed, and reclaimed for other purposes.

I knew what she was trying to tell me. Arbriana's group was doomed to fail. The Blacks would have seen all resistance over time.

The Commander gave me some time to truly appreciate that. I understood. After years of the same routine work, we'd all do something stupid to end it. The Blacks would probably subtly provide the means as well. They didn't care if you suicided, so long as you didn't attempt to take them, or others, with you. They were very firm on that. Everyone could make their own choice.

"For civilians, it starts the same. The camps are more lenient. Those who adapt are encouraged to return to their old lives, to return to the trade they knew or something equally contributory. There's not much difference in their lives after all, except who is providing the security forces and the taxation system."

That was a contradiction I didn't want to consider. I suppose it made sense, soldiers had taken up arms against them. The civilians were just there. But the Alliance had quotas for soldiers. Not everyone volunteered.

"But the brass wants to experiment here. It's a small one. This isn't a large facility and it was predominantly for training."

"The brass?" I didn't recognise the term. I knew we were a small camp though. That was obvious. Qaoloe wasn't well developed. There hadn't been many troops here, not compared to the planets we usually fought on.

"Command," the Commander corrected. "It's an old slang term," she explained. "It comes from a time when the rank insignia was actually made from brass."

I didn't know what metal was brass. I assumed it was a Black thing. And it really wasn't important now.

"They've decided to experiment. They want to see if we can make the process quicker."

For a moment, I felt sick. I thought she meant make our deaths quicker. They could do that. There was nothing stopping them just lining us up and shooting. Nothing at all. Something in the Commander's eyes made it clear she wasn't referring to that.

"We want you to integrate," she confirmed.

"Integrate? You mean serve the Blacks." My voice was broken. "Why don't you just slave us all then?" I ignored the fact we were nothing better than slaves at the moment.

She looked at me incredulously. "You're intelligent, Dranitor." The Commander sounded disappointed. She seldom used my name. She wanted to make sure I was listening properly. "I would have thought you'd have realised by now, we don't slave organics to machines."

"Then what's that collar?" I demanded. I wanted to yell. I made sure I didn't. That would have brought the guards I knew were outside. The quadruped ones. They wouldn't have hesitated to maul me.

"It's necessary," she said, sitting back. Her voice was quiet.

"How?" I still wanted to know.

"It just is." That wasn't a comforting answer. "I'm not the best person to explain it." She defended the weakness of her answers. At least she realised that much.

"Who is then?"

The Commander was silent for a few moments. I knew I'd pushed too far. I didn't care. Essentially, she'd told me the Black command expected us to defect. That wasn't going to happen. Arbriana's faction would be here until they died. They'd do something to accelerate that. Mine would slowly go insane. We'd join Arbriana's. That was inevitable. I think the Commander knew it.

"I'll get someone," she said.

I didn't really know what that meant. But I knew we were finished for today. I rose to leave.

"Tell your faction, tell all of them, before they get uppity about what you've learned today, that this planet isn't important. The experiment doesn't matter to the Brass. It's nice if they can get it to happen. I argued it would be better to let you mob have children, to give you new ties to the world. The Brass decided they'd done that already. They want to deny you the option, but show that it's there if you co-operate. As such, they want to see if this will succeed, but they'll live with it if it doesn't. If you are too unruly, we'll abandon Qaoloe."

For one shining instant, I was overwhelmed by the thought of freedom. Then reality set in. I knew that wasn't what the Commander meant. "We'll withdraw," she explained. Her eyes were focused on nothing. "And then drop a kinetic round."

She didn't need to say anything more. I knew she wasn't lying. Qaoloe was a rock with atmosphere. It wasn't valuable. No one would even notice. The action went against what we'd experienced with the Blacks but I knew they'd do it. The Commander would regret it but she'd do it. She was a Black after all. I couldn't forget that.

"I'll tell them," I promised. I would. I already knew it wouldn't do any good. But I'd tell them. I hoped if it came to that they'd take my faction. We were reasonable, after all. I recognised the irony there. Of all the factions, we were the ones the experiment was likely to succeed with.

The traitorous part of me wondered what it might be like. What other options were out there if I agreed to what the Blacks wanted.

Arbriana of course refused to listen to me. The nicest thing she called me was a traitor. Her faction began subtly fighting us. Mostly, it was an annoyance. They left messages. Collaborators. Unforgiven. Traitors. That sort of thing. There wasn't much we could do. We ignored their attacks. They weren't meant to succeed. Not on us.

Her faction's defiance got bolder. The Commander wasn't happy. The Blacks executed those they caught defying them but for some reason they never executed Arbriana. Eventually, I asked why.

"Because she hasn't done anything," the Commander paused from the game, looking up at me.

"Nothing?" I was incredulous. "You executed that Gryna yesterday for attacking, but you know who ordered it. You know she's the leader of that group." What was happening here?

The Commander sighed, pushing the Drantanara game aside. "We know she's the leader of that faction, just as we know you have lost support of many. There's now those who still follow the more tolerant path, and those who are wondering how long things will remain as they are. They are beginning to wonder about the possibilities that might lie in their future." The Commander just looked at me smugly. Those were the ones who would turn to the Blacks first. She also didn't mention those who had already turned. We knew there were some. There had to be. It was inevitable. "But she, Arbriana, hasn't done anything."

I stared. It seemed wrong but my mind provided context to the Commander's announcement. Arbriana hadn't actually done anything. She led her faction, she organised what they did. She didn't actually do much in the end. She let them do it. I wondered if I could use that to sway a few back to me. I don't seek power, I just knew it was a matter of time before they got fed up and attacked. At that point, we'd all be dragged in. It was something of a miracle it hadn't happened already. It said much for Black vigilance.

As the Commander had promised me some time ago, they had not faltered. I think Arbriana realised there had to be those who were prisoners for decades and the Blacks had practice in guarding them. I don't know what she thought of that. Maybe I should ask her.

"So you are deciding on a concept of personal responsibility?"

"Everyone is responsible for their own actions."

"Even if they are ordered?" We were soldiers. We had to carry out our superior's orders. Not even the Blacks could be that different. It would be chaos.

"It is command's responsibility to ensure their orders are h-" At this the Commander paused. "I'll say moral," she continued, having decided what word to use. I wondered what word she was going to say. Honourable sprang to mind but did not explain the pause. "If I am ordered to withdraw from this facility and deal with it, I am still responsible. Those who carry out my orders are responsible. Those who ordered me are responsible. We all bear responsibility for the actions."

Again, she reminded me of the earlier threat. I wondered if anything had changed, but stuck to the issue at hand. "So why isn't Arbriana responsible?" I pressed.

"Because she hasn't ordered anything," the Commander told me. "You think she has. I know she hasn't. She has encouraged, she has supported, but she has never instructed anyone to do anything."

I felt cold. That sort of information said the Commander knew every word that was spoken in the barracks, knew every interaction between our people. How did the Blacks know? How many were spies? All of us knew that some might betray us. This seemed more far more than that.

"You don't believe me," the Commander made it a statement. She knew what I was thinking and wasn't going to explain. "It's the way the W'ymic are," she added with a shrug. I couldn't deny they were manipulative. "And it's not like we aren't punishing her." That was true. Arbriana was sent to solitary more than the others. I realised what that meant.

The Blacks were controlling the situation. They were keeping Arbriana in power. She got punished. Her faction saw that. They were encouraged even with her absences. To them, the punishment was justification for her leadership. I wondered if I might point that out to some of her more moderate faction people. They'd never listen.

"Think about what I have told you objectively. Think about what you know with a view to the future," the Commander added. I knew she was referring to the map we'd been shown this morning. Drana was getting very close to disputed territory. I could only imagine the panic my people were experiencing.

I stared at her. It was true, being a POW was nothing like what the Alliance said it would be. I could understand that. The Alliance didn't retake many planets. There wasn't a lot of information about what happened. If I looked at the war objectively, the Alliance was losing the war.

But that didn't mean I should ally with the Blacks. It didn't mean that everything the Commander had told me was true. It didn't explain the Destroyers. Those were Bright Ones. They were slaved.

"Tell me about the collar," I countered. I knew there was something with the collars. No one had explained.

"Soon," the Commander promised. "I told you I was not the best person to explain. I have sent for someone."

"Who?" I'd never asked before.

"Someone who can explain," the Commander countered. She wasn't going to tell me.

I glared but it's not like I was in a position of power. And then I was dismissed. I left. I still had a lot to think about. Every meeting with the Commander only seemed to generate more questions. I wondered if that was part of the experiment. Doubt could lead to compliance and if the Blacks were controlling Arbriana's faction, what else were they controlling?

I didn't like that thought.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 11 - Reunion

I tried to talk to Arbriana in private, such privacy as there was. That meant a few hurried words at odd intervals. We weren't in the same barrack, so it was difficult. In the end, I just sat with her at a meal. She glared. Those who had set themselves up as her so called guards glared at me. I ignored it.

"It's been awhile," I started. She looked at me, doing that thing the W'ymic do with their eyes that makes you feel like scum. I wasn't a new recruit though. I had seen the front lines. And Major Iael did it better. I briefly wondered what had become of her.

"What do you want?" Arbriana hissed. She knew I'd been trying to speak to her for the last few days. She didn't appreciate it. I was a traitor. I played Drantanara with the Black Commander. The rest of her table glared.

"You need to be more careful," I replied conversationally. I had no doubt that the Blacks had noticed, but I was not looking for a fight. Just talk. Besides, we were all in the same boat. Arbriana seemed to forget that sometimes.

"So you say, but I'm still here." She was arrogant but she had a point. I had been saying much the same thing for some time.

"So are they," I imitated her tone. She was annoyed. She did the eye thing again. "I've seen that done by your betters," I sighed. Not the most diplomatic thing to say, I'll admit, but Arbriana should know better by now. I wasn't one of the recruits. I wasn't even one of the staff. I was one of the few with actual experience. That's why, despite the accusations that I was a traitor, I was still in charge of my faction.

"And what are they going to do?" The flash of annoyance at my baiting was covered by amusement.

The barracks already knew about the kinetic threat. I think it's because they were recruits they didn't take it more seriously. They didn't know what the Blacks were capable of, and most had deliberately forgotten the Destroyer. Actually, they didn't know what it was. If I hadn't known, I'd have done my best to forget it as well. It was time for another tack with Arbriana.

"Isn't it interesting, that no matter what you do, the worst that happens to you is solitary confinement?" I drawled.

The W'ymic understood the threat immediately. It took her companions a few moments to make the connections. "You dare?"

"I'm just observing." I didn't expect that simple line to throw her so badly. It told me she'd noticed the trend. She just didn't know what it meant. No. I'm willing to bet Arbriana did know, just was too arrogant to do anything about it. Or didn't know what to do. That could be closer to the truth.

I wondered if I should try to put some more thoughts into her follower's heads.

"I wouldn't observe too much," she spat back finally. "You might get hurt."

I nodded. That crack made my decision easier. It wouldn't do any harm, and I probably wouldn't get another chance, if the determined glare Arbriana was giving me was any indication. "Have you ever thought of the future?" I asked.

She lowered her head. The W'ymic did it when they were thinking.

What I was going to say next would be the worst. It would make me sound like I was a sympathiser but there was no other way of saying it. Not to her. "The war has been going on for generations. We weren't the first ones captured. We won't be the last." I paused for a few moments, letting that sink in.

"What do you think happened to the first generation captured?" I asked. "Or the second, or the third?" Each of the Alliance species aged differently but it had still been generations. "There's never been a prisoner exchange." There couldn't be. There were no Black prisoners. "So what happens to them?"

Arbriana glared. She knew what I was saying. I knew what I was saying. I was practically telling her we should surrender. I didn't quite meant that, but I did want her to think. What were we going to do as we grew older? Could Arbriana really sustain her hatred for that long?

I think she could. I think she'd lost someone. I wasn't sure about the others. Over time, the barracks had formed into factions. Those factions did their best not to interfere with each other. Yet, reality was beginning to rear its head. We had been here for a year and a half. How much longer would we remain? Was this routine to be all we ever knew?

"Think about the future," I said by way of parting.

Arbriana glared. "You think, traitor!" She hissed.

I waved jauntily at that. We were in sight of the Blacks. She wouldn't try anything. I wondered if she would think? I knew at least a few of her faction would.

Her faction was quiet for a few weeks. She only went to solitary once, and no one was executed. Arbriana seemed to be speaking to a Gryna woman often. At least I think it was a woman. Male and female Gryna look alike, though I'm told there are differences with the patterns on their hoods. I could never tell. I learned Arbriana was grooming the Gryna to take her place.

That was interesting. She had taken some lessons from my talk but not the ones I'd meant. I learned the Gryna's name eventually. She was female, and called Ulissa. She wouldn't talk to me. I simply shook my head at Arbriana, telling her what she already knew. It was dangerous to fracture more.

All the factions were quiet for those few weeks. There was no such thing as a private conversation. My faction had heard my statements. So had the others. I could explain to some but not to others.

I could tell there were those close to breaking. They were the recruits. They hadn't been honed by combat yet. Being a prisoner was different. They saw the Blacks through the lense of that experience. They didn't see the Blacks through blood, like I did.

The Blacks were being nice. The certainty of being slaved to a machine was fading. Not for me. I could still hear the screams of my fellows, those I'd known on the line. I could see Tiro being hit and flying away. I could hear Wibowo's laboured breathing, and hear Fannar urging me to go on. I couldn't forget.

I could still hear the Bright One's scream from that Destroyer. The Blacks were not this nice.

The Commander didn't invite me to play Drantanara, either. I didn't think anything of it. Well, I did, but I didn't know what she was trying to tell me this time. There'd always been reasons before. I was surprised then when mid-way through the work day I was summoned. That had never happened before. Drantanara was always played in the evening, after the meal, so as not to interfere with our work.

The guard fetched me personally. Three quadruped Blacks were with him. They expected trouble. I made motions to those with me to do nothing. I hadn't done anything. I wasn't going to be punished.

On the walk to the Commander's office, I wondered where that thought had come from. Then I realised what it meant. I was being affected by the Black's actions. I was equating them with justice. They would only act if I disobeyed. They didn't need that justification. I tried to remember that.

There was someone else in the Commander's office when I entered. I hadn't expected that. There had never been anyone else. I noticed their presence first. Then I noticed other details. Their back was to me and they weren't in the universal black armour that marked the Enemy. I looked to the Commander. She knew what I was asking.

She surprised me by rising and coming around her desk. The other being didn't move. I couldn't tell what species they were from the back. The chair covered the details I needed. The Commander came up to me. She looked smug. She always knew she held the upper hand. It was more obvious now.

"Enjoy your talk," she said and then left me shocked when she walked out.

She'd left me with the other one. The one without armour. I didn't know what to do.

"You asked about me." The other one spoke. Their head turned. I stared. I knew that profile. It was Human.

"Pickering?" I whispered the name. I couldn't believe it.

She heaved a deep breath, and turned more. It was Pickering. She looked different. Older perhaps, but then we were all older. She looked tired. It was her, though. I knew that.

"You asked about me?" she repeated.

"I did," I admitted. It had been many months ago. Longer than a year. I felt guilty for not pursuing my question but when I heard she was going to Sol I didn't know how to process that. "Did you see Earth?" I asked. It was stupid.

Tears formed in her eyes. "I did." Her voice wavered. I wasn't sure if it was happy or sad.

"Why did you ask about me?" She demanded when I said nothing.

I raised one hand to rub at my forehead. I could still remember the gun there. "You are my friend." I made sure to use the present tense. I might not have seen her for more than a year. I still wanted it to be true.

"I was your trainer," she countered.

"You are my friend," I repeated.

Pickering sighed. "You aren't mine," she said as she turned. The tears were gone. Her eyes were hard. "Now I look at you and see the lies I was forced to believe." She was passionate. I could feel her hatred. I didn't understand. I noticed she didn't have a collar on. I assumed the suppressor was now internal. The Commander hadn't seemed concerned about Pickering's microbes.

"What? Why?" Not my most eloquent but it did the trick.

She glared. "The Commander said you'd be like this. Sit down," Pickering ordered. The tone was reminiscent of the one she used when telling us to run 10 laps. It told me that I was going to run those 10 laps, or I wouldn't like the consequences.

I sat.

She moved so that she was facing me. Pickering never lost the glare. She took several deep breaths. I could see her chest shaking from the force. "I should know that it's not your fault that you did not know. I know that on an intellectual level. I don't care though. You are the focus for my anger."

Okay, that told me nothing.

"Your Alliance is based on a lie."

That wasn't anything I expected to hear from her. I expected it from the Commander. She was a Black after all. Pickering wasn't.

"Your Bright Ones are an abomination."

I shook my head. What the Blacks did to the Bright Ones was the abomination.

"Are you going to listen, or are you going to disbelieve?" She asked. She'd seen my reaction.

I had to think. Pickering seemed sure. She had obviously gone to the Black side. She had their information now. Maybe she could explain so that it would make sense. "I will listen."

She glared some more but eventually nodded.

Pickering raised one hand to her neck. There was no collar there. "The Bright Ones uplifted the Alliance species," she said. I nodded. That was basic history. The Alliance was formed by the Bright Ones. "Did any of you ever ask why?"

She waited for me to answer. I waited for me to answer. I'd never considered that. The Alliance was the Alliance. And the Bright Ones were the Bright Ones. It had been that way for years, for generations before the war. What was there to question?

"Something easier then," Pickering continued when it became obvious I couldn't reply. "What is a Bright One?"

That one I knew. Every Alliance child knew. "The Bright Ones are the first species of the Alliance," I said the line almost by rote.

"No. What are they?" Pickering repeated.

I went with the more adult explanation. "They are a psychic species that most of the Alliance species perceive as light. They have ascended to a higher plane of existence, but some remain in our galaxy to help us reach the same level of enlightenment."

Pickering nodded at my explanation. She had been raised in the Alliance and would have learnt it as well at the appropriate age. I didn't know what that was for a Human. "They are a psychic species, that most of the Alliance species perceive as light," she repeated that bit. "They have not ascended to a higher plane of existence. They do not wish to see us reach enlightenment. They use us to further their cause."

That sounded like a Black explanation. I wasn't surprised. I knew Pickering had gone to their side. What surprised me was the vehemence in her voice. I decided to humour her. "Their cause?" The only cause the Bright Ones had was ending the war. The entire Alliance shared that cause. In a weird way, the Blacks shared it as well. Of course, they wanted a different outcome, but they did want the war to end.

"Their cause," Pickering nodded. I think she was thankful I hadn't challenged her. "To ensure that no species can ever challenge them."

That didn't make any sense. My expression must have said as much.

Pickering took another deep breath. "Where are the elder species of the galaxy? Where are those who got to space by themselves?"

"The Bright Ones uplifted us."

"That's not what I asked."

It wasn't but I didn't know how to answer her question. I'd never thought about it. The Bright One's uplifted us all. I didn't like what Pickering was implying. I took the aggressive option. "So why don't you tell me?"

She looked at me. I felt the world shift.

"I will."

I was not going to like this.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 12 - History

"Since you aren't a scientist, I won't bother you with the details of the other old species," Pickering mused.

I wondered what she meant. There were ruins on some planets that were old, but no one was sure who made them. The Bright Ones indicated that those species had gone ahead. Whatever that meant. They never elaborated further. They didn't even tell the Alliance the names.

"I'll start with something directly relevant to a soldier." She looked over at me, apparently weighing my reaction. "Sol."

The single word got a reaction. Sol was the first battle of the War. Details were lost to history though. Just that the Human System had fallen to the Blacks and the Bright Ones had been driven away.

"No one knows what happened in Sol," I said. Then I realised that she had said she'd been there. And that Black had told me earlier that they had taken Pickering to Sol. I took a deep breath. "All right, those in Sol might know what happened there." I allowed.

She gave me a half smile. "At the time, the Humans were like a cross between the Dranta and Brydon," she said. "We were technologically advanced, and we had colonies on other planets in Sol. Then the Bright Ones came.

"Given the relative distance between Cyndya and Earth, we surmise that they had been on their way for a while."

I recalled the galactic map. There was a great deal of distance between Sol and Cyndya. The Bright Ones always referred to their home system and planet by the same name. When you've been in space for so long, I guess it is the same thing.

"We rejoiced at their contact," Pickering continued her explanation.

The Dranta had as well. There were still memorials held to this day to celebrate. I nodded to indicate that I understood.

"We spoke, we exchanged language packs. They explained about the Alliance. It seemed wonderful. Then they came to Earth."

There was a warning in her voice. I could relate the events to those that had happened on Drana. The Bright Ones had come. The history files were available to any who wanted. They had spoken to us in space, telling my people of the Alliance. It was smaller then but it still existed. And then they had descended to Drana. I remembered watching that file. The first view of the Bright Ones is spectacular. I think every Dranta has seen it. The way the light burst forth from their ship. The way it separated and touched Drana. It was beautiful.

I couldn't see why Earth would be different.

"Our leaders gathered. They were at a bit of a distance," she said. "There were Ambassadors on hand to escort the Bright Ones." Pickering waved a hand. A hologram appeared. It was blurry but I recognised the ship. It was one of the Bright Ones.

Then the hatch opened, and just like it had happened on Drana, a Bright One came forth. The audio on the holo wasn't good but I could vaguely hear the background hiss of cheering. It had been like that on Drana.

"Things went reasonably well," Pickering said, waving her hand at the holo. It fast forwarded. I didn't know how much. "But then the demands started," she continued. The image changed. It was indoors now, in a tiered room. The Bright One was at the bottom. Humans were on every tier. I noticed a W'ymic beside the Bright One.

"'And in honour of the Alliance, Humanity shall provide eight gigatonnes of the listed metals to the Bright Ones each quarter cycle.'"

The voice on the holo was clear. I frowned. That was, that was the price of the Alliance. There was nothing new there. The Humans didn't appear to deny the request.

"The Leaders didn't agree to the Bright One's demand."

"That wasn't a demand. That's the price of the Alliance," I told her.

"It was a demand. At that point, we weren't members of the Alliance. This was a demand that came during the first meeting," Pickering stared at me, daring my objections. I thought hard. It had been the same for the Dranta. We'd been invited to join the Alliance in our first meeting with the Bright Ones. It was an honour. And the Alliance had given us so much.

"Most consider the tribute fair payment for FTL," I tried to explain. What pre-FTL species wouldn't pay for those secrets?

Pickering smiled coldly. "Tribute?" she questioned. The word hadn't been well selected.

"Continue," I said instead of arguing, motioning for the holo to play again. I wouldn't learn what she wanted me to if we argued over words.

"The Leaders didn't agree to the Bright One's demand," Pickering said. Her smiled turned vicious.

"But they were giving you FTL!"

"No. At that point, they were giving us nothing," she growled. She waved away anything I had to say. "The Bright One repeated the demand. It was a demand. It was not an offer of trade.

"Keep in mind the Bright Ones were the first aliens we'd met. We wanted to be generous but we weren't going to be stupid." Her statement made it clear what she thought of the other Alliance members. We'd all paid. Some had had difficulty in paying and the Bright One's had offered assistance. They taught some species how to mine. They accepted payment plans. They understood that some species needed time to adapt. They were generous like that.

"How? Why?" I was hurt on the Bright One's behalf.

She just looked at me with pity. "Why would we just give it to them?"

The Alliance had always worked that way. The Bright Ones contacted a new species. I didn't know all the details of what happened then but invariably they joined the Alliance. There were always a few years of adaptation. The Bright Ones uplifted us. That time of chaos was a small price to pay.

However, I was beginning to see what Pickering meant. If what she indicated was true, this was not a trade, as it seemed to be for most.

A traitorous voice asked if it might have been the same for us all? The holovid was similar to those I had seen of Drana. What did that mean for the Alliance? How could I find out?

"We were happy to *buy* FTL," Pickering said. Her tone indicated she'd heard my traitorous thought. "We were happy to offer far more than the metal they wanted. As a one off payment or as a series of payments, with an ending. This was not."

She heaved another breath. I could see her struggling with anger. Pickering kept it contained.

"The meeting broke down. The Bright One seemed confused. It left. It tried again with the individual leaders of governments."

It took me a moment to sort out that sentence. "Governments?" I emphasised the plural.

"Governments," Pickering confirmed.

I struggled to remember what little history I knew about the Humans. The details were lost, assuming I'd ever known them at all. I knew Earth was where the Blacks appeared, and Sol was the first system to fall. I really didn't know much more history than that. I knew more about their physiology and the bugs they carried. That was a more pressing necessity than something that happened over five generations ago.

"Some agreed."

I relaxed. That was the way it was meant to be.

"They paid only until such time as they had FTL." Pickering smiled again. It was triumphant.

I shook my head. That had been tried. I believe the Zarthan had done that. The Bright Ones had reminded them of their duty. They had never been late with their payments again. There was no violence with the reminder. A Bright One visited and that was that. The Bright Ones don't need violence. That's why the war is so hurtful to them. They say we should be moving past such things.

Pickering seemed to know what I thought again. "The Bright One came back. The Leaders refused to continue payment." Her expression changed. It became sad. "The details are not clear. There was much lost in the battle. I believe those who agreed were backed by others who didn't. That's how they afforded such payments.

"Mars and the other colonies helped. They'd been acknowledged as independent nations for years by this time but they recognised their duties. This was for the benefit of all Humanity.

"The Bright Ones demanded further payment. The Leaders refused. Even if they hadn't, it's unlikely we would have paid. Our governments just don't work like that."

She was back to the plural. "Governments?"

"Each Human nation still has a Government," Pickering explained. "They are united under the Commonwealth. I don't really have time to explain that, suffice to say that while the leader of a nation can agree, they still have to get that agreement through their parliament.

"The Bright Ones seemed agitated at our refusal. They repeated their demands."

The holovid displayed some Human sitting at a desk. There were other Humans around the man - I think it was a man - and a Bright One with a W'ymic in attendance was before them. The audio was fuzzy. I listened carefully. Thankfully the translation wasn't as fuzzy. But I was after more than just the translation. The tone of the original speaker was important. I thought I knew Pickering well enough to hear Human emotion.

"The Leaders refused. And again, the Bright Ones left."

What I heard backed that statement. It's hard to know what the Bright One said. The W'ymic translated but their body language showed agitation. I'd learned enough from Arbriana to know that. The Bright One, being light, displayed nothing.

"They reappeared soon enough."

The holovid changed. The background darkened to display space. There was an orange planet at the bottom. The lines of cloud were distinctive. I didn't recognise the planet though. There's a lot of worlds out there. Then the Bright Ones ships appeared. They were bright, as the name implies.

The Bright Ones are known as that because we see them as light. But their ships are also light. They are almost delicate. They are stronger than all the ships in the Alliance. I watched as they fired.

"Ganymede," Pickering said. Her voice betrayed nothing.

I didn't understand.

"They were a mining colony. They weren't considered a full nation. They were sponsored by three nations as a goodwill effort. They never had a chance."

The vid displayed what looked to be a primitive colony in ruins.

"They showed us the Bright Ones' true face."

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say that there would have been another reason. The colony was diseased. The shot was a mercy. That was just my mind trying to make excuses. I recognised that.

"Was it truly the Bright Ones?" My question sounded weak but it was all I could come up with. The vid had shown the Bright Ones ship firing, but then it hadn't displayed the target.

Pickering waved her hand at the holo. The image shifted. The Bright Ones ship was visible as it might be seen from below. I felt cold. This was a scene from Ganymede. The light of the beam was brilliant. It came closer and closer, and then lanced into the ground. There was no doubt. The image shifted again. It was a very long range shot this time. I could barely see the Bright Ones ship but I could see the tight light of their weapon, and the flash of light that was the colony when it was hit.

I stiffened. Pickering let the vid continue. It displayed other angles. When it became clear there was no way of denying it, it shifted to display internal shots. I felt sick. I didn't need to see the Humans dying.

"It was them," I admitted, turning away. The admission wasn't as hard as I thought it might be. I didn't have time to wonder about that.

"Ganymede gave us a warning. It was just the first. They attacked the other colonies on the way to Earth. Some of them survived. They let the buildings be destroyed. They ran. But that told Humanity what the Bright Ones intended. If they had gone the other way, attacked Earth first, then the colonies, maybe it would have been different. As it was, the first true battle was a bloodbath." Pickering made an odd sound. It was like a sob and a sigh. "We'd only had FTL for a few weeks by then. We made the necessary sacrifices."

"For what?" I whispered. I suspected I already knew but I had to be sure.

"To save Earth."

The vid shifted again. It displayed crude ships against the dark of space. The ships were dark themselves. I felt cold. They weren't the same but I knew what they were. They were Black ships. I gasped, watching the battle. They were destroyed. The Bright Ones cut through so many. More appeared. In the background, there was a white and blue planet. Earth.

The Black ships were destroyed. They kept coming forward. The Bright Ones were driven back but by that time I could only see Earth through a shroud of debris.

"We did what was necessary," Pickering repeated. She was moved by the vid.

I realised exactly what I was seeing. The dawn of the Blacks. Their emergence into the galaxy. I turned to stare at Pickering. There was only one conclusion which could be formed. It had been before me the entire time. It was before us all. Sol hadn't fallen. Sol had been defended. The marking on the galactic map, showing Sol as important as the Bright One's Cyndya, was accurate.

The Blacks had paraded the truth before us the entire time.

The Blacks were Human. They had always been. I'd captured one. I could still remember its screams, and how it had fought. It had been desperate.

"Why?" I shook my head. That question wasn't for Pickering. It was for the Bright Ones. Why had they done that?

I had considered that this was a lie but as much as everyone considers themselves the centre of the galaxy, there is a limit. I was no one. A soldier. I had no power within the Alliance. They'd probably already forgotten my name. It would be engraved on the memorial on Drana. That would be my only memory.

There was no point in spinning such a tale for me. And it was so detailed. Those shots, though blurry, were realistic.

The real question for Pickering was how? As far as I knew no one could deny a Bright One. I knew that myself. I could still remember the Destroyer's screams. Now, that made sense. Why the Blacks always won when a Destroyer appeared. It was a Bright One. We bowed to it. Except of course, I knew it had to be controlled. That's why it screamed.

"How?" My reasoning was carried in that question. Pickering knew what I knew. You couldn't deny a Bright One. No one could. But within the Alliance, no one wanted to. That was the difference.

Pickering looked at me. Her lips were creased in a soft, superior smile. "Now, that is the real question, isn't it?"

Look Both Ways 13 - Controls

I nodded as the silence stretched between us. Pickering looked to the ground, before she looked up at me. I followed her eyes. I hadn't noticed the bag beside her.

She grinned. I felt my equilibrium shift. It was happening far too frequently lately. "There is some truth to the claims that the Blacks slave Alliance species to machines," she announced.

It took me a full five seconds to comprehend that statement.

"I… what?" I wasn't very coherent.

"The best lies have a core of truth," Pickering replied.

I already knew that. Sol was the first Alliance system to fall. If Pickering was correct, Sol had never fallen. The Humans had never been in the Alliance at all. But that was the truth we believed.

Pickering bent down. She rummaged briefly in the bag beside her. I recognised the object she pulled out immediately. A collar. The light glinted off the needles set into its back. I shuddered. I should have known there was something about those collars. Why else would the Base Commander wear one?

"This isn't active," my former trainer assured me.

"It's still a collar."

She snorted. "You have no idea what it really does."

The retort wasn't what I expected. "It suppresses your microbes," I told her. "I presume you now have something internal." I didn't make it a question, but that was the explanation she had given me so long ago. The collar was the visible sign so that everyone could see that it was active.

Her eyes went hard. I knew that look. It said I'd just made a huge mistake.

"Unless you stab me in the gut, and then consume my intestines, you aren't in much danger from the microbes I carry."

I didn't need the graphic description.

"The ones on my skin are reasonably benign. The others, the viruses and such are more dangerous but don't jump the species barrier that easily."

I took a deep breath and forced myself to ask the next question. "So what does it do?"

She raised her gaze. It was disconcerting. Pickering remained sitting there but suddenly, with the slight shift in her head, she was above me. "It is a slave collar."

I forced myself to be still. She was attempting to get a rise from me. The base Commander wore one, so there was a deeper explanation. Surely, the Humans couldn't indoctrinate the second generations that much? If they did, why let her have rank?

"What are the Bright Ones?" Pickering asked.

I wasn't so impassive at that. She'd asked this earlier. I repeated the first part of my earlier answer. "They are a psychic species that most of the Alliance species perceive as light. I'm going to assume Humans perceive them similarly."

"We do," she nodded the confirmation. She seemed pleased I hadn't given the full answer. "They are a *psychic* species. They communicate with their minds. They communicate with *our* minds."

I went very still. I'd heard the Destroyer in my mind. It's screams still haunted me. I'd preferred to forget.

The Bright Ones communicated with our minds. That's why they liked to meet in person. That's why there was no language pack for them. There didn't need to be. They could hear everything we said… And everything we didn't say. *That* realisation wasn't pleasant.

Pickering was silent as I worked through the implications. Why hadn't I thought about this earlier? Why hadn't anyone? I didn't like the immediate answer I arrived at. I poked and prodded it. It didn't shift. It didn't change. Some in the Alliance must have had this thought. They never got to spread it. Certainly our Leaders gave no thought of being with the Bright Ones. They liked it. It was an honour to be seen by one.

The Bright Ones were always present at Alliance meetings. No one questioned that. They were the Founders, it was only right.

I stared at Pickering. I didn't want to put my thoughts into words. That would make it more real. I might only be a lowly soldier but it still changed everything. I knew enough to see how that was.

"They-" I tried. I really tried. I was trying to deny it. "They are controlling our Leaders?" I made it a question. The implied uncertainty was comforting.

Pickering just looked at me. Her expression told me that I already knew the answer.

"Doesn't anyone question it?"

Another look. I gave her one back. "You are encouraged not to," she said with a huff.

I nodded. That explained something. We were always taught the Alliance was for the betterment of all our peoples. We were reminded that the Bright Ones had uplifted us. It was something I'd heard all my life.

I thought further. Anyone in power would have seen a Bright One personally. If they had doubts, those would have been removed. Or… it wouldn't be that hard to remove them or to see that their career was not successful. A few words, the implication that they were not working for the good of all the Alliance and they would be finished.

That thought reminded me of something Quanna had said. It was said in passing. I hadn't known her long then. I focused. Pickering saw the change in expression. She was content to wait. It came to me slowly. It had been the first day after training.

*'Every Human has seen a Bright One. Every single one of them. They never said why, just said it was necessary, for control or something.'*

It was a rumour then. Something mentioned in passing. I tried to connect it to the new information I'd been presented with. I couldn't, yet I knew there was a connection.

"You've seen a Bright One, haven't you? I mean, when you were with the Alliance?"

"I told you that I had. Yes. I have seen many Bright Ones."

For a moment it didn't make sense. Then it all fell into place. "How did you resist the Bright Ones?"

She understood the question. She knew the you was inclusive. I meant Humanity. She smiled. It was vicious. There was some hidden knowledge there. "We are immune."

"What?"

"We are immune," Pickering repeated. She almost laughed. "Humanity is immune. We can hear the Bright Ones. They can hear us. They just can't change our minds."

I gasped. That was almost too simple.

"There's biological reason for it," she continued. "Something about our brain chemistry and the way our neurons function. I've had it explained but I didn't understand it." She shrugged. "There's a theory that we've already begun on the path to developing our own psychic ability, enough that we can hold them off. No one's sure about that. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not. There's always been some Humans who claim they are psychic. It's mostly guesswork."

Something still wasn't right. I looked at the collar she was holding. She saw my gaze and lifted it a bit higher. I wasn't sure how to phrase the question. I just knew there was one.

"The best lies have some truth," Pickering repeated. "The collar has two designs."

"It does nothing about microbes, does it?"

She shook her head. "Absolutely nothing," she agreed. "For the Base Commander, it acts as an inhibitor. She, and those who also wear them cannot hear the Bright Ones. It can scream at her all it wants. She can't hear it."

"But you can?" Pickering's explanation only partially explained why the Blacks used Destroyers. If they couldn't hear the psionic noise then that was good, but she had said Humans could hear the Bright Ones. I knew she could hear the Destroyers.

"I can. But in the Alliance, this collar serves a different purpose. There, it is an amplifier. It makes the Bright Ones signals so strong that they can control a Human." She freed one hand to rub at the back of her neck. It was a nervous gesture. I probably would have done the same.

"It hurt when they spoke to me. Every time. They were using the collar to overwhelm my natural defences. It gave me a headache for days. It kills others."

I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear that but I couldn't ignore it. "Did they speak to you often?" Quanna had said that every Human had spoken to a Bright One but no one said how often.

"Often enough," Pickering replied. Her barriers were going back up. "So you see, we do slave Alliance species to machines." She looked at me. I couldn't contradict the statement.

We sat in silence for a few moments. It wasn't comfortable. I fought to find some way of breaking it. I looked at the collar. "Is that an amplifier or inhibitor?" I wasn't sure why I cared.

"Inhibitor."

"So what happens if you put one of them on a Bright One?"

"Nothing. They don't have a physical presence."

I frowned. "Then how do you hold them in the Destroyers?" I had seen more than one of those things. It was physically there. It had armour. And the Bright One's ships were there. They could interact with the physical world. They weren't just thought and light.

"They have very little physical presence," Pickering corrected. "The Commonwealth have a couple of theories about them. Some take the Alliance view, that the Bright Ones are ascended to a higher plane. Or at least are on their way. As they evolve further they will lose their physical form completely.

"There's another view though. I think it fits better. It explains why there are no other elder species. I believe the Bright Ones failed. Their species advanced and developed. They became psychic. They became strong and then when the time came to take that final step, to leave this existence behind, they balked. Some of them would have made it. The rest just couldn't let go. That's why they still have bodies and why they now control everyone they can. They don't want others to realise how badly they failed."

I didn't know what to think of that. This had definitely gone beyond the realms of thought for a simple soldier. I think it went beyond even Intel's brief. I wondered what they would say. I wondered if they could say anything. Intel was visited by the Bright Ones frequently. I guess you wanted to control those who looked at your Enemy. It wouldn't do for them to learn the truth…

I gasped. That thought didn't belong. That thought implied the Blacks were right. That went against everything I believed. Everything I'd fought for.

Everything I'd killed for.

I swallowed as I considered that.

"You begin to understand." Pickering's voice was cold. It wasn't all directed at me. I could tell a fair swath of that cold was directed at herself. She knew what she'd done. She knew what I'd done.

I kept looking at that thought. Why had it come to me? Why did I even consider it?

The memories of the past year and a half returned.

The Blacks had given the Zarthan salt water. They had resettled the Opar. They had ensured we were adequately provided for. We were prisoners but we were not mistreated. The Base Commander had even sent for Pickering. I knew she didn't want to be here.

The Blacks… The Humans had cared. That's what it came down to. They cared in a way the Alliance didn't. But were they meant to?

We were soldiers. We were provided for. We were trained. We were given orders. We carried out those orders. That was our job. Civilians had other duties, and with those, had different requirements. The Opar shouldn't have gotten pregnant. But she had…

That was the key here. She had. Her future in the Alliance would have been uncertain. It would have depended on quotas. There were always quotas for soldiers. I hadn't even thought about that. It was just the way it was.

My new knowledge questioned it. I had a feeling I'd be questioning a lot of things soon. I just couldn't keep up with them all at once. Why were there quotas? Were they like the tribute? They had to be. Didn't the Bright Ones know we would fight to defend our homeworlds? They did not have to force us.

Or did they? If things had been presented differently, would we have sided with the Humans? Could we have sided with the Humans? I left that thought quickly. Madness beckoned. I could only deal with the now. I tried to narrow my focus. There were too many revelations.

"So what happens now?" That was the only question I could think of that made sense.

"Now I go back to Earth," Pickering said. Her eyes were wide.

That wasn't the answer I'd been expecting.

"I told you, you aren't my friend. Maybe one day, when I wore a slave collar, I was, but I am not the woman you knew and I won't be that woman."

I remembered her earlier words. I wanted to deny them. I wanted to say that we could be friends but it wasn't going to work. I was still a prisoner. I doubted they'd let me walk out of here, not even if I said I thought they were right. "You don't want to be reminded."

"Exactly." There was a slight note of relief in her voice. I think she expected me to be difficult. I wanted to be but I was not in a position to pursue it. Even if I was, I'm not sure I would have. It wouldn't have said anything nice about me.

I stood. It told her I'd figure out the answer on my own. "I am grateful that you came, Pickering." I didn't use her rank. It would only have reminded her more. I didn't want that. "I am thankful for the information you have shared with me." I believed it but I would be checking what little I could. I couldn't change everything I was on just one source. I wondered how to get further information. The Base Commander would probably help. We were an Experiment, after all. Experiments sometimes needed guidance.

"And while I understand that I remind you of the past, you are my friend." I couldn't say anything more. I wanted to. There was so much that could be said. I knew it wouldn't be heard. I nodded before I moved to the door.

There was a Black waiting. He escorted me back to the barracks where I sat for a very long time, staring at nothing. The rest of my work group entered. They knew better than to disturb me but they did spread the word that I was back.

I didn't see Pickering again.

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

I like this interpretation of humanity. Getting by on a death world with nothing but tools, endurance and pure grit. Also fucking over psychics. Presumably also with pure grit.

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 14 - Admission

The Base Commander gave me a few days before she called me in for a game of Drantanara. We did actually play, just it wasn't the focus. The fact that she played with the other captive Dranta couldn't completely hide my change in attitude but it helped. We were all under suspicion.

But maybe not surprisingly, there were those coming around to the view that the Blacks might not be that bad to live under. Not Arbriana's group. Nothing would move them. I wondered if she had seen a Bright One personally. That might explain her stubbornness but I was more inclined to believe she had lost someone. We all had. I'd been the cause of at least some of the losses.

Those coming to that realisation didn't know what to do about it. They gravitated to me. I don't know how they knew I was sympathetic. They felt guilt. They felt torn. I understood. They might only be recruits but they knew what they had been doing. My faction grew. The others sub factions were merging into mine, leaving Arbriana's isolated.

They wouldn't budge and they held her as something akin to a goddess. It was because of what had happened with the Gryna, Ulissa she'd been training. The other woman had been executed. The Blacks hadn't been subtle about it.

As always, there had been no grandstanding. The Blacks had simply done the job but it had been all over the barracks that they executed Ulissa for something Arbriana had been doing. That had put Arbriana back in control, and apparently there was no one else she trusted to take her place.

She knew it was dangerous for her group to idolise her that much. She knew the Blacks were controlling the situation but she couldn't just not lead them. She used their devotion but they were becoming more and more isolated.

I'd appointed two or three others I thought were the most level headed. They were to keep morale up in the event the Blacks decided I knew too much. I didn't think they'd be needed but you always made arrangements.

The faction numbers did fluctuate a bit. There were differences in beliefs. Early on, there had been those who didn't know where they stood. Their opinions were solidifying and the undecideds' numbers dwindled. Those who remained in Arbriana's group were tough and dedicated. They knew the lines the Blacks had set. They were careful to never step over them.

I knew they would. Eventually. The Blacks knew they would. The instant there was something that made the step worth it.

I was thankful Qaoloe was a backwater planet. There was unlikely to be anything that pushed them to that step but time. I had to assume the Blacks already knew that. They'd been dealing with prisoners for generations.

It was that which made me truly realise the Blacks weren't what the Alliance insisted. That made sense. It was easier to fight those who were so different. There were fewer questions and no moral considerations.

That was an uncomfortable thought. The Alliance didn't have prisoners of war. The Blacks never let themselves be captured. I'd always believed it was because they were slaved to machines. I knew that wasn't why, but I didn't pretend to know all their reasons. Still, it made me wonder, what was the Alliance doing that was so dreadful that had caused them to need such measures?

I didn't know. Major Iael had never said what would happen to the captive. The most she'd said was that they would be used to spearhead a new response. From the way the W'ymic Officer had spoken, they were going to develop a biological attack.

I knew from the galactic map we were still shown it didn't appear that anything had been made or released. The Blacks were still gaining territory. But how long did it take to develop these things? Could you develop from one sample? No, it wasn't one sample. There were Humans in the Alliance Territory. They were controlled via their collars. Why were there Humans in Alliance territory? How did they get there?

The Base Commander had been amused when I asked. "When the Humans got FTL, they made it public knowledge. I don't think it was meant to be. I think it was a plan by the buying nations to gain dominance, but I'm told the plans were out in less than an hour. There were those who had their own ships. They were hauling goods between the Human colonies. Those who could, converted.

"They left Sol before the Bright One's attacked. Some ended up in Alliance territory. They were subdued. The Humans in the Alliance are their descendants. They know no other life." She had shaken her head sadly. It was odd that she felt sad for these Humans she would never know.

"You know from Pickering that they resent being controlled."

I nodded. Pickering was bitter. She had been polite but that was the memory I had.

"The Commonwealth occasionally gets a surprise with that history. They broadcast the Battle of Sol. Those who hadn't gone into Alliance territory got those transmissions. Some knew that their fellows were victorious and returned. Others had hidden at the first sign of battle. They never accepted the follow up transmissions or they thought them lies.

"So every now and then, we meet a colony of descendants. Not as many as you'd think. A lot died. The ships that left didn't have the needed resources or biodiversity to sustain a colony. But if you think our worlds are armoured, they've got nothing on those colonies." The Base Commander chuckled. "Those Humans are armed for war and willing to die. Then they find that the Commonwealth is Human. They get invited to join as a member colony.

"I think only two have said no. There's still good trade with them and the borders are stable. There's no need for the Commonwealth to fight them."

I was surprised. It painted a nice picture. I wondered if the Alliance could hold borders without the Bright Ones. I honestly wasn't sure. Even with our shared history, I wasn't sure the Alliance's species would be able to live together.

Her explanation meant I couldn't delay. I didn't want to discuss this. Ignorance was best but it would lend credence to my warning. That was required. "You know I wasn't a trainee?"

"We do," the Commander seemed surprised by the turn in conversation.

"And you know I wasn't a trainer," I added. It was a pathetic attempt to stall.

"We captured the records intact."

I couldn't think about that now. "Then you know what mission I was involved in."

"Yes," the Commander said it sharply. I could hear the hiss of air between her teeth.

"I don't know for sure what they were going to do with the Human."

"Him. His name was Lieutenant Lennon."

That made me feel worse. I nodded but focused on continuing. "I don't know what happened. I know they would have questioned him but the W'ymic Major implied they were going to develop a weapon."

"We are aware of those plans," the Commander said. "Not specifically," she waved one hand to indicate the generality of Black knowledge. "Biological warfare has always been a risk."

I was dismissed with that. There wasn't anything else I could say. The Human's name brought up memories I didn't want to consider. I was a different Dranta now and I had done my duty.

I couldn't do it now. I knew that. I'd changed too much. But I hadn't yet changed enough.

The next day, I, and those who were sympathetic were assigned different tasks. They were more complex. They were more interesting. I'd gotten used to the monotony of each day. The only time I had to really think was with the Commander. That wasn't true. I was thinking all the time, considering her words, considering what Pickering had told me. I was comparing the reality of the Alliance with the reality of the Blacks. It was why I was accepting.

Arbriana's group noticed the changed work. They also noticed it never rotated to them. I didn't have to explain why. She knew. It made her anger sharper. Her group acted out more. The Blacks simply adjusted. They were used to this. I thought they had to be. I tried to point that out to Arbriana. I never even got close. None of my emissaries did. The W'ymic woman didn't want to hear. None of her faction did.

This wasn't about the war any more. This was about her wellbeing. We couldn't even get that message through, not even when we signalled at night. I could do nothing but put her from my mind.

Except I couldn't. Maybe it was because I knew there was another way. I had to try again. Call it the last part of my Alliance training telling me I had to help the Alliance. I would do what I could.

I went the direct route. I pushed through those who made sure they were separate at meal times and sat with her. She glared. They glared. I ignored it.

"You can't remain unchanging," I said when it became obvious no one was going to speak. The entire mess was silent. Even the Blacks were watching.

"You gave an oath to the Alliance," she hissed. The word traitor, in every Alliance language was implied with her tone.

I looked at the food. It wasn't much but it was safe and contained sufficient calories. We were not mistreated. "I did," I admitted. Everyone knew I'd seen active duty. "And I lost my entire team for that oath," I added. I hadn't thought about them in a while. Quanna, Tiro, Fannar, Wibowo. They'd died to complete the mission. A mission I now regretted.

"You don't even honour their deaths," she added.

I glared. There was anger in my expression. She saw it. I think she was pleased. "This is not about them," I growled. I knew that their memory would be disappointed with what I now believed. I had to hope, that if they had gone through what I have, they would come to the same conclusions. I chose to trust that. "This is about you." I made a small gesture, making sure her group knew I was speaking to them all.

"Have the Blacks done anything we were assured they would?" I asked. It was one of the questions I'd been forced to face. There was only one small part of the answer holding me back now. I think it was because that, Arbriana was even speaking to me. She could see that I wasn't totally convinced. She knew better than to attempt conversion.

"You know they haven't. We were told we'd be slaved to machines. Forced to fight on their front lines. None of that has happened. We are prisoners, but we have sufficient to eat, we are not worked beyond our means, and our basic requirements are covered." It didn't seem much. I knew how much that meant. I hoped I could get through.

"This is slavery!" Arbriana objected.

"This is work," I replied. I wasn't as serene as I should have been. I'm not that composed.

"They still kill us."

"If we attack." The Blacks exercised extreme defence. "If we attempt to escape."

"They kill us."

"They are still at war." I realised my mistake a moment too late. They are at war, not we. I wasn't completely on the Black side, but I was no longer on the Alliances'.

Arbriana picked it up. Her group did as well. I wasn't going to be able to bluff my way through this.

"You reveal yourself." She didn't shout. She didn't have to shout. I think everyone heard.

"We are no longer in a position to fight," I replied simply. It wasn't so much an attempt at justification but rather I was pointing out the truth. She had seen the galactic map. She knew the Blacks were gaining more than they lost.

"You've made sure of that." She glared. There was an intensity in her gaze but I didn't drop my eyes. She did the movement W'ymic could.

"I told you, I've seen your betters do that," I reminded her.

"Watch your back, Traitor," she hissed. The word sent a ripple through the barracks. "Your days are numbered."

She pushed away her food and rose. Her barrack rose with her and they left. The Black guards took them to their assigned work.

I sat alone at the table. I was thankful none of my faction sought to offer false comfort. They knew what had happened. They knew we were now two groups. I was grateful mine was the largest. Not because of pride or ambition, but because it would mean more could be saved.

There was only one thing holding me back and the sooner I dealt with it, the better. I just didn't know how. It was a truth I couldn't reconcile.

The Destroyer. They seemed at odds with the Black's other behaviour. Intellectually, I knew there would be more hatred for those who started the war but it seemed to extreme.

There was only one way to get the information I needed.

---

Look Both Ways 15 - Conversion

The main problem I had then was that I believed Pickering's information. Too much of it made sense. It fitted with the events I knew had happened. I wasn't sure about the motivations but if there is one thing the military teaches you, it is that motivation doesn't matter, outcomes do.

The problem was caused because I believed in the way the Blacks had treated us. They were caring and as considerate as they could be, given the circumstances. That left me in a quandary. It went against a lifetime of teaching.

No matter the Bright One's motivation for attacking the Humans, the outcome was the galactic war. The one that had dragged on for generations. I wondered if there had been opportunities for peace over that time. It was my last attempt to reconcile everything I had known with what I had experienced.

I asked the Base Commander when I next saw her. I wasn't direct. I had to lead up to it.

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Peace? With a force that wants to exterminate you?" She wasn't impressed with my question.

"Couldn't there be lines or something?" I tried to defend. The galaxy was a large place.

She shook her head. "No. Any peace would be used as a period of build-up, before the war started again."

"That goes against everything the Alliance teaches. They say they are there for the good of all species. To help us all evolve and grow."

The Base Commander looked slightly sympathetic. "That is what the Alliance teaches," she agreed. For an Enemy soldier, she had a good understanding. "But how many species do you think the Bright Ones have allowed to evolve beyond them, or even develop close to their level?"

That was a good question. I had no answer. The Bright Ones only said they had been in space for eons. They never spoke of other species, yet the first one they contacted were the W'ymic, some 1800 or so years ago. Had there been others? I didn't know. But I could see that the W'ymic were not ready to evolve. None of us were.

My silence answered.

"We don't know either," the Base Commander admitted. "We're not sure how long the Bright Ones have been around. We know what they say, we just don't know how true that is. But beyond that, think about what you were taught about the Blacks. Tell me the details."

That was easy. "The Blacks are organics but slaved to machines." I began by rote. "That's why they are so fast and strong. Why they won't surrender, and why they suicide if captured-" I paused. A new realisation struck. The Blacks did suicide if captured, but it wasn't the machines activating the chemical release which dissolved their bodies. It was them.

I was surrounded by women who knew how to read me. The Base Commander nodded. "No way am I being tortured," she said, confirming what her actions would be in the very unlikely event that this planet was retaken with her on it.

I didn't even try to deny her words. I could still hear the screams of the Human I'd helped capture. Lieutenant Lennon. I could no longer think of him abstractly. I don't know what he was saying. I don't know what had happened to him. I'm glad I don't. I can't deny it would have been bad. I had contributed.

I nodded before continuing. "The Blacks want to enslave us all, to ensure the peace of the galaxy, though it's unclear why they appeared in Sol. The Alliance theory is that they reached it at about the same time as the Bright Ones."

"So that war was inevitable," the Base Commander finished. "It's a nice story but it takes many of the Bright Ones actions and projects them upon the Humans."

I motioned that she should continue. It was bold but she accepted it.

"The Bright Ones want to ensure the peace of the galaxy but they are doing it in the same way they accuse the Blacks. They enslave your peoples."

"They are your people as well," I reminded her. She was Dranta.

She shook her head. "No. Not yet they aren't. I would like them to be but they have to be free of the Bright Ones." Then she looked at me sharply. "You might be, one day." Except for the experiment comments of earlier, that was the closest she'd said that there would be a way out of being a prisoner.

I wasn't sure what to say about that. I wasn't yet ready to say that I hoped so but I think she knew it would be soon. There was one thing holding me back. I couldn't get it out of my mind, though I think I knew why, that wasn't enough.

I looked to the ground. The Base Commander seemed content to let me think. The Blacks had chosen well with her for their Experiment. She knew when to poke and prod and demand answers but she also knew when to wait. It was time to wait now. The main problem was, I didn't know how to phrase the question. I didn't know what the question was. I knew what it was about… but I wasn't sure what I wanted, needed to know.

It was just this last point holding me back.

"The Destroyers," I started. That was about as far as I got. I just didn't know what to ask.

The Commander nodded. "I had trouble with them as well," she admitted. I think it was the first personal thing she'd ever allowed me to hear. She took several deep breaths. "They are Bright Ones. Their small physical form is locked into the larger armour you see."

That explained why they were black with that shining centre.

"How? Why?"

"I'm not sure of the how," the Dranta woman admitted. For a moment, the Commander looked soft. It wasn't anything I could take advantage of. I didn't want to. "The Humans have some way of isolating the Bright One's physical form and locking it into the control pod of the Destroyer." She then looked at me squarely. There was nothing soft remaining. "Are you sure you want to know why?" The question was cold.

I knew if I found out why, I'd only have one path to take. One viable path. It was my turn to breathe deeply. I'd already decided. It was just this that was holding me back. I'd delayed long enough.

"Yes." My voice wavered. I knew the Bright One's had caused the war and that would lead to hatred. The Destroyers were beyond hatred. If it was just a matter of killing, I wouldn't have woken up. It had to be something more.

The Base Commander nodded. She was sympathetic. "Yes. I believe you are ready now." I don't know what she was looking for.

"Any captured Bright Ones are given a choice," she began. Her voice was neutral. "They can use psionic abilities for communication only, never forcing another sentient to do their bidding." She looked at me.

I was sceptical. It showed. I'd never met a Bright One but I didn't think they'd be able to do that.

"Or they can die." Neutrality was lost. She was hard.

I shivered. I've never thought about that. The Bright Ones were immortal. At least, that's what they said. If they existed as psionic energy, that was possible. They said they drew strength from the Alliance. Some had interpreted that to be that the Bright Ones harvested our latent energy. It's not like we were using it. No one was sure. Supposedly, the Bright Ones had explained, but no one understood. We weren't psionic.

I tried a few times before I got my voice together enough to speak. "How?" I didn't need to elaborate.

"They are mostly energy. That energy rejuvenates their physical bodies. As they have assured the Alliance, they are close to immortal. The key is the fact that they are energy. If you can harness that energy, you can syphon it away. If you syphon away enough-" She didn't need to finish.

I understood the physical analogue. If you drain enough blood I will die. All the species in the Alliance will die if that happens. The organic ones anyway.

"When they refuse to listen to reason, the small physical part of them is fitted with a restraining collar, and they are put into what you call a Destroyer." She looked at me. "You've seen them in combat. That's the first stage. They are rather noisy."

I didn't really want to know more. From her tone, I knew the Base Commander was going to tell me.

"After they've gotten used to it, they are pulled back and then harnessed to a variety of other things. They make a great emergency FTL power source."

I shuddered. The amount of energy for that was insane. "And then?" I would get the full explanation.

"And then, when their energy is almost gone, they are asked again if they will live in peace. Not one has said yes yet, so we've been saved from having to decide what to do with them."

Over the time I'd been talking with the Base Commander, I'd become used to her inclusive way of speaking. It was odd. I didn't think her rank could be that high, but she seemed to believe that she would somehow get a say in what would happen. Maybe she was much more highly placed. I doubted that. She couldn't have devoted the time to this Experiment.

For the moment, that was just a confusing matter of the Blacks. I could ignore it against the greater issues. I had ignored it and now I kept ignoring it.

We sat in silence for a few moments. "How are they killed?"

"When they are reduced to their physical form, it is executed. The remains are cremated and then scattered across several systems, just to be sure."

The Blacks didn't take chances. I nodded. The explanation was enough. It didn't fully explain the hatred but it at least explained why. I guessed the Blacks couldn't contain the Bright Ones in the way we were contained. They would have had to do something else. I couldn't blame them for that because I knew that the few prisoners we had would not be treated any better.

Once again there was silence. I took a deep breath. "What happens now?"

The Base Commander looked at me. "That depends on you."

"Me?"

"You. What do you want to happen now?"

What did I want to happen now? I didn't know but I knew I didn't want to remain here forever. I was no longer loyal to the Alliance. But that was me. I was ready to move on. There were others in my barrack, in my faction who were still coming to the same conclusions. They were guided by me but they needed more time. While I had never formally accepted leadership of the faction, I was responsible for them. I owed it to remain until they were ready. Those who already knew the truth could leave, but I had to stay. It was my duty.

And then there was Arbriana's faction. Nothing would move them. I guess the Black Experiment had already accounted for them.

"I remain as I am for now. The others still need guidance that you can't provide."

She nodded at that. I was being bold but she had asked for my thoughts.

"For some, it's already worked. For the rest, it shouldn't take long," I smiled.

"And the others?" She seemed to genuinely want my thoughts.

I considered them before shaking my head. There wasn't anything I could do to help them. "They won't change. They can't change. I don't know why. I thought maybe they had met a Bright One but none of them have that rank, so I think it more likely they have lost someone."

"We have all lost someone." The Commander said. I'd never heard her speak like that. I wondered who she had lost.

"We have. The Experiment was never going to work for them." I wasn't quite meaning it to cheer her up but to remind her of the reality. The Experiment couldn't work for everyone.

"No," she sighed heavily. I realised she must have orders on what to do with them. Maybe not specific orders, but the Blacks had had prisoners for generations. They would have experience. "No, it can't," she repeated before her eyes speared over to me. She waved one hand. A hologram appeared.

I stared. It was a map. The same type of map we saw every week or so when the Commander wanted to make the progress of the War clear. The Blacks were winning. That was what was clear. This map was different.

In space, sheer territory isn't necessarily an indication of power. The quality of the systems under your control is. This map told me differently. The Black territory was larger. I had noted it was beginning to lap up against the core worlds earlier. It still was, but the peripheral areas the Bright Ones had controlled were now gone.

"They are getting desperate."

Of course they were. The Alliance wasn't meant to suffer this type of defeat. It was a distant pain. A remembered pain but I didn't truly feel it. What I felt was worry for those who had been like me. Those who were led by their Leaders and who had never thought of something else, those who didn't realise the alternative was not the terrible darkness we had been promised.

I stared at her. My questions were evident.

"The Commonwealth is concerned," she admitted before her attention turned inward. The holo clicked off.

The silence stretched between us. New concerns churned through me. I am a soldier. I carry out the orders given trusting that that is what is best for my people. I want what is best for my people. I knew we were now at a crossroad.

I knew our leaders would not be able to lead through this. I didn't know how long the Blacks would pause. Their Commonwealth could not hesitate for long.

I rose and left without saying good bye.

We both had a lot to think about.

---

 

[Jade Tatsu]

Look Both Ways 16 - Closure

The final turning point came on one of our days off. I was sitting by myself. I had communicated the results of the conversation with the Commander with those who understood. They had nodded. Most had agreed to remain until we were all ready. I was honoured by their faith in me. It was nearly over but I still had things to think about. I needed time.

I'd made my decision but there are always doubts. There are always regrets. I'm not the type who can walk forward without at least glancing back.

"It will be okay."

The voice startled me. I recognised it. Over the time of our captivity I had come to know everyone here. Including those in Arbriana's group. Draniroa was a Dranta. Xe was a neuter though. Unlike the W'ymic, Dranta don't have cycles. We have three genders. Male, female and neuter. Male and female give their genetic material to the neuter who then create the new life. In our society they are honoured because of that.

Draniroa was one of my faction. I didn't think xe was ready yet. Xe was one of the reasons I was staying. I hoped I could guide xem to the truth.

"It will be," I agreed with a smile.

Draniroa sat beside me. The Blacks had provided several benches around the open area. There were others sitting and chatting. But there was a small gap between us and the others. I wasn't concerned. Arbriana's group was on the far side. I wasn't sure what they were doing. I didn't care. I had other things on my mind.

"So a decision has been made?" Draniroa asked.

"A decision?"

Draniroa just gave me a look. It was one that said xe knew more than I thought. It was a good look but I wasn't moved. I knew xe didn't know anything yet. Xe had yet to think about what the consequences would be. It was a subtle thing.

"We all want what is best for our people," Draniroa told me.

"We do," I replied. It was inclusive. I didn't just meant the Dranta. I wanted what was best for the Alliance. It was going to be difficult. I was still a prisoner. I've always peaked behind me, but I've also never had the arrogance to believe that I alone can make such a large difference. I can help. I would help. I would contribute but it would have to be a group effort. We would have to work in concert. This wasn't one of those things that could be done any other way.

Draniroa sidled closer and leaned into me. It was provocative but also pleasing. "And you think surrender to the Blacks is the best for our people? You think killing the Bright Ones will bring us peace?" Xyr voice was a whisper.

I froze. The words were not what I should be hearing. Xe didn't know any of that information. Xe had one of the volunteers for service. Usually the Dranta don't let the neuters serve. They were too precious.

Then pain bloomed in my chest. I looked down. There was a knife impaling me. It was crude. Home made. I didn't recognise it. That really shouldn't be my concern.

"Traitor," xe hissed, but remained close. I realised the closeness would cover my wound. And Draniroa was a neuter, close to a male. There was nothing wrong with that. Had that been why I'd let xyr close? It had been a while since I'd last exchanged genes. Years in fact. I raised one arm. It was heavy but I managed to push at Draniroa.

"Arbriana sends her regards." The whisper followed me into darkness. I felt a passing regret that I wouldn't see the future but maybe that was for the best.

I wouldn't need to answer those doubts I still felt.

---

I awoke in the infirmary. I recognised it from the last time I woke up there. My chest hurt.

"Ah, so you've decided to live."

I knew the voice. It was the Base Commander.

"I think I'll think about it some more." My chest *really* hurt.

"No, you won't. You've lost too much time already."

"Oh?" It was my eloquent request to know how long I'd been out.

"About a week," she translated the single syllable.

"How?"

The Base Commander chuckled. "Even on your days off, we do monitor you."

That much was obvious.

"The medics here also know how to deal with wounded Dranta," she caught my real question.

"Oh yes," I murmured. They would. She was Dranta.

"I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disappointed though."

I could taste blood in my mouth. The medic had done enough for me to live but there was still some rough edges. I didn't understand the Commander's comment.

"You fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book," she continued. I had. Using the opposite sex to get close was something common to the Alliance. It's slightly more complex for Dranta and W'ymic but the principle remains. "On one hand, it proves you are male. On the other… well, I wasn't sure. You've never seemed interested."

It was my turn to look at her. Of course I wasn't interested in her. She was female. We could have fun but that wasn't going to happen. She was also the Base Commander for the Blacks and I was a prisoner. There were a lot of reasons.

"So you were?" I felt cheeky.

"No," she grinned at me. "But it's good to know you are norm-"

Anything further was lost as I coughed. Blood came up and a small bowl appeared. I spat into it. The motion had hurt.

"You are going to live," the Base Commander assured me. "But you are going to feel like shit for a while."

"Story of my life. Still, I should have known better."

"You should have. For now, you keep healing," she replied.

"After that?" I prompted.

"Military personnel don't usually get options, but you know as well as I do that you aren't military any more. Usually though we'd offer you some position in the civilian occupations."

I nodded again. That made sense. We might have agreed that the Alliance was wrong but we were still soldiers. I wondered what the hell I could do. I could fly. That was a skill at least.

"In your case, the War Commission want to offer you a position."

I gasped. The sharp motion made my chest hurt again. "Why?" I'd find out what the War Commission was later. All I really knew of the Blacks was that they were ruled by a Commonwealth. And they had individual governments for each nation. There had to be whole areas of complexity I knew nothing about.

"You care."

"Not that much," I objected.

She didn't argue but instead held out a collar. I knew what it meant. I swallowed blood again, but reached out. It felt heavy in my hands. I tinged the needles in the back with my fingers before I lifted it. It was cold against my skin. It settled. There was a sting of pain when the needles went in. I shivered.

There was no turning back.

"Welcome to the Commonwealth, Dranitor."

---

From there I healed. The Commander allowed several of those who were being shipped off to see me, before they left. It was good to confirm their safety. They were full of hope for the future, though it was from them that I learned Arbriana had been executed.

The Base Commander looked at me oddly when I asked about that. "She ordered it," she told me. It was explanation enough. I remembered her telling me about responsibility.

I didn't ask about Draniroa. Xyr position as a neuter would not have helped xyr with Black Justice. They probably executed xyr with the same squad as Arbriana.

Then it was time for me to leave. The Base Commander was escorting me to the shuttle. When leaving a planet, I try not to look back. It was a legacy of when I was flight support. But I realised this time, I didn't know one vitally important thing. "What is your name?" I asked her.

She grinned. I guess she remembered her earlier answers when I'd asked that. For a long moment I thought she wouldn't tell me. "Deborah."

I froze. That wasn't right. No Dranta had a name like that. How would I know she was Dranta? Then I realised that this was what should have happened. This was simply development, and advancement. This was the type of change I wanted for our people. "It was nice to meet you Deborah," I said the name carefully. It was the truth.

I wish everything I had to do from there had been as nice. The shuttle took me to Drana. The Blacks were landing forces. It was chaos. I wasn't involved in combat. I could never have kept up with them, not even with the training packet that had appeared in my comm one morning. I never looked at the sender but I knew who it was. Pickering did good work.

The battle didn't take as long as it should have. Our homeworld shouldn't have fallen so quickly but I knew our forces were demoralised before the ground battle even began. Drana is a core world for the Alliance. A homeworld of one of the species. The Bright Ones abandoned it. The token forces they left were not enough. The Dranta there knew that. The Humans knew that. They had called for surrender before they attacked.

The call wasn't answered. The influence of the Bright Ones was too strong then. I was assured it would fade. I hoped it faded quickly. I wasn't called to go down until everyone was subdued. I could see large areas aflame but, if I was honest, they were smaller than they could have been. The Blacks had been careful. No doubt it would take a while for others to acknowledge that.

I went to the shuttle bay. There were other shuttles there. They were ready to launch. Some were already in the air. I was surprised at that. I'd never seen ships like this. They weren't the universal black I'd seen before. These were painted white. They had a red cross emblazoned on them. Some had green crosses. I asked why. The soldier shrugged. I hadn't known Kishne couldn't see red. The Blacks did. Then I asked what the ships were, why they were different.

The answer confirmed what I had come to know. The Blacks do care.

---

That is how I joined the Commonwealth. It's why I stand before you, the leaders of Drana, proud of this collar around my neck, proud of what it represents. The Humans have a history here. They say the collars represent slavery. For us, it represents freedom! Freedom from the Bright Ones.

I hope one day to remove it. But that day depends on the Bright Ones. They may lay down their arms. They may lead the Alliance to peace. The door is open. The will is there but they have to accept that they are one race amongst equals.

And we all know, they won't do that. I hope they can learn. I suspect we will be at Cyndya before they do. I suspect it will be only the younger ones that can. But the Commonwealth doesn't know for sure. It is willing to try.

For now, you just see the ruins of Drana. I see the hope. I see my people working to rebuilt. Drana has been freed. The Bright Ones were driven away. We are ready to grow, to develop. We are ready to learn. We have always been ready to learn. But what have we learned since the Bright One's came. We took FTL. We did not learn it. We have developed nothing more.

Why not? Why have we not been allowed to grow? You, who lead us, would know better. You, who lead us, have been the ones they have held back. Why?

Because they would not let us. Because they were afraid. Of course, they never said that. You know that better than I ever will. It was always "for the good of the Alliance". But the good of the Alliance never considered the good of the Dranta. We should consider our neighbours. We shouldn't wipe them out because we can. But we should also consider what is good for our peoples. I want that, too. I want us to develop further.

I want us to become the Bright Ones. One day. I will not see that day. You will not see the day. When that day comes, it will be because we have followed in the footsteps of those who went before us.

The Humans. The ones you call Enemy. The ones you call Black. They will lead the way. They say they aren't psychic. They say they haven't evolved that way. Maybe not. Maybe they are. Maybe the path is different for us all. But I say now that we can no longer allow the path to be hidden from us.

We must look forward. We must look beyond. We must regain the people that we were before the Bright Ones. It will be up to you to lead us. I can encourage. I can urge, and I will but I am the voice of our people. You are our leaders. You must lead. But you must be free of the Bright Ones' taint. No more can we be dependent on their lies. You must see this collar for what it truly is.

Only together can we lead each other. Only together can we truly advance.

For now, we must rebuild. We must regain what has been lost, and we must look to bring down the Alliance. Only once it is gone, only once all our peoples are free, can we move on.

---

Gender neutral pronouns are a pain in the proverbial! I've gone for the Xe option, though there are a lot to chose from. I hope I got the useage right. In general though:

Xe - he/she
Xem - Him/her
Xyr - His/her
Xyrs - His/Hers
Xemself - himself/herself

---

Epilogue

It was a small room. There was one table, one chair, illuminated by one light from directly overhead. There was barely enough space to walk around, especially with a teen sitting in the chair. There was nothing else. It was clean, clinical. Yet under the waft of chemicals used to clean, there was the unmistakable fragrance of sweat, tears, vomit and blood. There was nothing to hint that they should be there. There was nothing in the room that indicated what happened there.

The tabletop was smooth and white. In the centre there was small plastic dot. It was not affixed. It was one of those dots used to play games. Checkers, or a false coin. The colour had changed over time. Red, blue, green, orange, black, brown. All colours. Not white. Never white. That dot had to be visible. There were cameras on that dot. They covered every angle.

There was a boy in the chair. His dark skin was shiny with sweat. It wasn't hot in the room. It was a pleasant temperature, maintained mostly by the room's location, rather than artificial means. There was never a breath of air to disturb anything. His black eyes were fixed on the dot. Intense concentration marked his features. The dot was blue today.

Blood trickled from his nose. He didn't move. He kept staring. Tiny veins lined his eyes. He kept staring.

The dot was his entire world. It was all that mattered, all that would ever matter. He barely breathed.

The dot moved. A bare millimetre but it moved.

The teen gasped and collapsed on to the table. Blood flowed more freely from his nose and eyes. Droplets appeared in his ears. It was a small smudge of red on the white of the table.

The door opened. The room became ever more crowded as two others entered. They weren't the same as the teen. They were different, alien. They didn't enter far. The chair had its back to the door for this exact reason. They pulled the teen's arms up, pulling the chair back over, so that it was almost out the door. Then they hauled. The teen didn't resist. His head hung low. Blood dripped.

The chair was pushed upright again, and the door closed. The blood had smeared, and the blue dot had moved further.

A voice spoke, disembodied but pleased. "There will need to be more tests, but we are on the right track."

---

War Commissioner Aithne watched the holo from Drana. Dranitor had some quaint views, but then the grunt hadn't been chosen for his intelligence, merely his commonality and the odd charisma he possessed. They'd noted his leadership abilities, how those in the prison had gravitated towards him. That had sealed the choice. The aliens of the Alliance could relate to him, to his experiences. In that, he was almost the perfect mouthpiece. That Prison Warden, what was her name - Deborah Dran Drantaiz - had done well.

She flicked the holo to the side, and flexed her fingers to bring up several lists of numbers. Losses over Drana were within tolerances. That was good. It meant less fiddling with the numbers in other places. The Dranta were accepting aide. That was better. It reinforced the differences. It established reliance.

Really, you'd think after so long the Bright Ones would know how to control a species. Force was such a boorish method. It was rudimentary, crude. There were better ways but then, they'd never needed anything better.

*Until us,* her mind supplied, lips quirking in a brief smile. A slightly different approach, a bit more flexibility in their thinking and the Commonwealth would have joined the Alliance.

"Amateurs," she murmured tapping for another list. That wasn't bad. They'd captured three on Drana. That brought a small smile. Maybe these ones would know more. Those that had been captured so far were young, relatively speaking. They were arrogant. They only knew the truths they'd been raised with. They knew nothing of importance.

Aithne tapped out the usual orders. Question then entrapment in the black armour that would become their coffin. It was a fond hope that one of them might know the secrets of enhancement. Not the piss-weak stuff they saw now on every soldier, the stuff they'd done earlier. Those had been magnificent. Works of deadly art. She shivered, remembering the battle holos. If the Bright Ones had made more of them, the war would have been over. And not in a good way for the Commonwealth.

It was a good thing they couldn't, or wouldn't. No one was sure which the answer was. Aithne leaned towards couldn't. There were still Humans in the Alliance territory. There was no reason they couldn't be *changed* in the same way the others had. Yet so far, none had been. Extensive tests on every Human captured to date meant they were positive about that. It was disappointing. The captured… freed Humans tended to bear the brunt of that disappointment without knowing why.

They'd live. They were Human.

Maybe they could be put into the test units for psychic ability. At that, Aithne frowned. She let those tests continue because she had to. That persistent belief was annoying. The Commonwealth had shown why the Bright Ones had no effect on Humanity. It had nothing to do with a nascent psychic ability. It was nothing that flimsy. It was chemistry. Pure and simple. Human chemistry was stronger than those of the other species. There was evidence in the Alliance as well.

Dranta came from a Class 10 planet, Kishne from a Class 6. The Dranta had to be more heavily reminded of their supposed duties to the Alliance than the Kishne. If they'd been Class 11 maybe they'd also be free. But extinct. They didn't have the temperament to do what was necessary, not what had been done over Earth.

That would have been the reality of their freedom. Still, it was evidence of a sort and had lead the Commonwealth to push towards Drana because the Dranta would be the most accepting.

They could make more mistakes there and still be heroes. They wouldn't make mistakes. Those on the surface genuinely wanted to help. The Dranta would see that. They would feel that. That would be the basis on which they made their decisions, and that's all they needed. In due course, the Commonwealth would get a new member nation.

War Commissioner Aithne smiled. On paper, that's what it would look like. She did like that old expression. Maybe they'd even use paper for the signing. Reality would be just slightly different. Reality always was. The Dranta wouldn't mind, they wouldn't even question it, not like they occasionally did the Bright Ones, because the Dranta would assume it was like this for everyone.

It would be, for those formerly of the Alliance.

She sighed happily and sat back, half closing her eyes as she thought. Actually, it might be time to try… a swipe of one finger changed the orders given about the captured Bright Ones. Two would know their fate. They would become Destroyers. The third would become something new. It was time to see how well a Bright One could fight a Bright One, with certain restrictions of course.

The Commonwealth was getting close to the end and it would be such a pity to have to destroy Cyndya completely, especially when there was so much to learn. Right now, there was no choice. Destruction would have to be absolute. She hoped to make a choice available. It would make the future easier and surely the Bright Ones would appreciate the pursuit of knowledge.

Aithne took a deep breath. She would continue to make the difficult choices. Those that needed to be made.

For all mankind.

---

Thank you for reading

 

[The Froggy Ninja]

Neat. Kinda sounds like the Commonwealth plans to screw over the aliens but they're humans so that's normal.