AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The appearance of azephtannear Earth—and the subsequent arrival of hundreds ofzephtanaround Azoth—cracked open the universe, shining light onto aspects of life and science that I had never fathomed.
These creatures, against all odds, had discovered how to travel through wormholes, opening portals across space with their will alone. Through a neural connection with intelligent life, they could cross to distant star systems…and the Skoropi had found out how to travel with them not through science, but through animal husbandry.
I have been fascinated by thezephtansince I learned of their existence, and I must admit that I’m intrigued at the prospect of residing on this ship. I spend my first day on Jaya in my room, running my hands over the walls and listening to the sounds of thezephtan’scalls. There are two juvenile creatures with us, moving through space like fish. They ride transdimensional currents, setting down on garden worlds to replenish their strength as we travel to Azoth. And they talk all the while, though I don’t know how they hear each other in vacuum.
It shouldn’t be possible.
None of this should be possible.
And more than anything…it shouldn’t be possible to shatter a whole moon and kill billions of people in one fell swoop.
I take my meal in my quarters, not ready to face the crew. On Logos, there was an air of solemnity surrounding the planet, all of us in mourning. Here, there’s too much laughter, too much noise, too many smiles. I am not prone to excessive emotion—as a rule, my people tend toward stoicism—yet I feel that these humans and Skoropi, so expressive, should be sobbing.
It’s offensive, at the very least.
I sleep in late, and eventually my legs begin to twitch. I can’t stay in bed when I’m itching to move, to dosomething. On Lyran ships, I would have plenty of room to roam, and bathing pools to soak my dry scales. I’ve grown fond of the human device called atredmeel, on which I can run until I’m sore.
I wonder if they have atredmeelon Jaya, with so many humans aboard.
As if the ship is reading my mind, flowers grow along the wall to my left, blooming in bright pink blossoms amongst the leaves. I frown as I watch them grow before my eyes, unsure of if the ship is doing this, or me. I follow the trail toward the door, which opens at the tug of vines up to the right.
So the ship must want me to leave.
Fascinating.
I follow the pink flowers deeper into the belly of the beast, the vegetation growing increasingly lush. Alien birds mill around and cry out in the foliage, impossibly large flowers glowing with bioluminescence overhead. Ferns cover the walls behind the leaves, bright light emanating from their leaves. I don’t think there’s any other light onboard—like the algae we use in our lamps on Logos, the Skoropi use bioluminescence.
Perhaps humanity are the odd ones when it comes to bipedal development, with their electricity and resource consumption. Ourselves and the Skoropi appear to have found alternatives.
I believe I’ve found myself in the creature’s stomach, where the plants grow deep and dense. There must be rooms all along the edges, but Jaya doesn’t reveal any of them to me; she has a distinct path she wishes for me to follow, and I’m curious where she’ll lead me. This sentience is new and strange, and I’m eager to discover its secrets.
Here, the vines hang thick and heavy over the corridor—the place that the Skoropi call ‘the spine’—and water drips from the tips of emerald green leaves to the floor. Pink flowers open like beckoning hands, luring me deeper. I don’t think thatzephtaneat meat, but perhaps this one has gotten a taste for Lyra.
Someone is humming up ahead.
I stop short, recognizing the voice instantly. It’s the ship’s engineer, Taraven—the one who laughs the most, who makes me feel something strange. I thought I would try to avoid both him and the human soldier after our first encounter on Logos, but it’s been difficult. They seem as drawn to me as I am to them.
Not only that, but the damn ship is invested in my socializing.
“I don’t need company,” I hiss in Lyran, but the humming stops. A moment later, a shaggy head of dark hair pops around the corner, long locks hanging over Taraven’s forehead and shaved on the sides. He smiles right away—offensive, disrespectful to someone in mourning, I think—and his eyes brighten to a yellow-green glow.
“I wonder when you come out,” he says in broken Lyran. He beckons me closer. “Come. Have gift.”
I turn to see if I can follow those pink flowers right back to my room, but they seem to have disappeared as quickly as they bloomed. The ship has trapped me here with this bright, smiling alien. I groan and take a step toward him, knowing I have no choice but to follow.
Just around a curtain of leaves is a room—his workshop, if the mess is any indication. A wall on the left is occupied by containers full of botanical specimens, while one on the right has tanks containing different fluids with spigots. At the center is a worktable covered with trinkets and tools, most haphazardly strewn around. A cup of translucent fuchsia liquid matching one of the tanks sits half-drunk on the table, and when Taraven turns, I realize the color is on his lips as well.
His lips are full, a deep turquoise that looks soft compared to the hard scales on his shoulders.
I shouldn’t stare at his lips.
“You want?” he asks, gesturing at the cup and then at the tank. “Good.”
“Is it alcohol?” I ask, hoping he understands. “I don’t like alcohol.”
I’m leery of human concoctions like this, when I’ve seen the way things go wild in the Terran Quarter in Saga. There, they drinkboozeand the Lyran aphrodisiac,xhasa. While many of my friends have indulged in such things, I don’t find that it’s very safe. I prefer to have my wits about me, especially since I’m on an alien ship. It is my job to represent the Lyra here, not to have fun.
I hope this alcohol wasn’t his gift.
