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Obioras’ Heart

“Damn this ship! Obi, please yiza apha, the panels are acting up again!” Lerato yelled over the comms channel. Lerato Mbeki and Obiora Chibuzor were a couple alone in the stars. They met nine years ago at the Calabar Institute of Cosmic Exploration. Their courses were selected for them based on a personality-based aptitude test. Would you imagine they were both placed in the exact same classes?

Their romance started in Intro to Interstellar Cartography, as soon as Obi laid eyes on her he was stuck in awe. She walked into the lecture hall, jet black french curl braids half up half down, head covered by a beige scarf she used to keep out the sun. School cadet jumpsuit on which filled her out deliciously, dark brown skin, she glowed like the sun with a black coffee tint. But it was her eyes he fell in love with, her almond shaped kohl smeared captivating eyes. When she looked up to inspect the room she seemed almost feline, he gasped and his breath flowed away. It seemed she heard him for when she turned her head she smiled a big white smile, and floated toward the seat directly behind him. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer” she said to him as she signaled toward his drool. She laughed, crossed her legs and waited for the lecture to begin. From then on he was stuck to her like pollen sticks to a bee, dropping sweet nothings in the hive of her mind and watching the honeyed words fall from her mouth. He never left his bee queens service, striving in every way to make her happy.

No children yet for them, and that was okay. They wanted to be the first people to travel to and chart Alpha Centauri, this would be a story they tell their little ones. They had been on this journey for 4 years and 3 months. At the speed they were keeping, they would only remain on it for 4 more months. They loved this old supply ship, so much so that they rechristened her when they bought it. Her name was Mama Celeste, she lived up to her namesake too.

Obi’s mother, Celeste Chibuzor, was a beautiful and haughty woman. She was full of life and cared for Obi since he was less than a year old. He was found on the steps of the Afri-Saharan Coalition Embassy in New York. She was working late one beautiful July, and as she was leaving, she saw him swaddled on the fourth step in a bright akwete cloth, with a note attached to the fabric. “Dear you, If you are lucky enough to find him, please, protect him. His name is Obiora. He is a special child with a gift the world is not yet ready to accept. Care for him in the way I could not. Shield him from those things life throws at people unexpectedly. Treat his illnesses and worries. When he is old enough, he will seek me out and find me, even if he doesn’t know it. Love this child, teach him to love himself. – Y”

She cared for him just like the letter asked, and in turn he took care of her. He made her proud, he was kind and respectful. She loved him with everything, and when he found Lerato she realized his heart had found another. This new heart loved him and cared for him just as much as she did. She knew he was in good hands and that this girl had things for him, she would unlock his potential. Celeste died the day after her darling son’s wedding. Her last words to him were “Go to your good thing, she will love you and show you the way. Look to those stars in the sky nwa m nwoke, there you will find your destiny.” His whole life changed, it was then that Obiora Chibuzor decided he would live in the sky.

He pressed the little button on the intercom made out of titanium alloy saying “Lele the shit is fine, stop obsessing over the radiation panel and get down here! I cannot believe you left in the middle of a game.” They had begun a new game of Go Fish, one that Obi was currently losing. “Voetsek, nothing here is fine, come look at this!” Obi, with a large sigh and no hope of redemption in this battle of cards, he left the observation deck and made his way to the bridge. Decent sized ship, living quarters included five bunk beds, captains’ quarters, and an ambassador room (a space they made spit and glue style for their nights of carnal pleasure). The observation deck was next to the kitchen which was next to the airlock. They had four storage areas, two of which they hadn’t stepped foot in for three years.

As Obi approached the bridge, he saw what she was so worried about. “Obi, something on this ship is emitting a ridiculous amount of Beta Radiation. It all lit up at once. I don’t know what it could possibly be. We’ve been in a warp field this entire time, no elements that we know of could enter it, at least not through the shielding in place. Haibo, it’s moving. Look man!”

“I see it Lele, I’m going down to find out what it is.”

“Hey, take this.” she reached under the bridge’s control console feeling for the plasma rifle that was locked to it. “Be careful, if that thing is as irradiated as the system says you’ll grow horns like some old mythological creature. Take the Radiguard suit. Also,” she got up from the console and walked over to him to plant a kiss on his lips “I love you, don’t take any risks.”

“I won’t, Ugonne’m. It’s probably just some debris.”

He departed down the steps of the bridge and located the Radiguard suit next to the airlock entrance. Shoving himself inside he realized he’d lost a lot more weight than he thought, and then decided he’d just have more protein rations. Lele likes a bit of meat on his bones. “Radiguard suit is on. Lele do you read me?”

“I hear you, husband.”

“Current location of the radiation?”

“Hangar bay 3, west of the entrance point.”

“Copy, moving toward target”

Off he went, past the airlock, and the kitchen, and the observation deck. He passed Hangar Bay 4, it was there he saw a glimpse of the thing that would change his life. A bright glow shone through the doors of bay 3. He pulled down the visors on the suit, and what he saw was a humanoid figure. It stood tall, at least six foot three, the entire frame was seemingly on fire by this glow which made his jaw drop. “Lele, the radiation…i’m seeing a person.”

“Obi, what the hell does that mean? There’s no possible way a person could be on this ship, much less emitting that much Beta Rad without already being dead.”

Obi knew the science, he knew the facts and logic of the situation. This did not blind him to the possibility that he was looking at something extraterrestrial or otherworldly. Obi was very much aware of the gray areas in the universe. He knew that humans had not believed that the old shamans and sangomas knew what they were talking about. Spirits, Orishas, Duppy, whatever you call them, they exist. They just don’t reveal themselves the way one would expect them to. Nor do they communicate or exist in the way one would expect them to. They don’t conform to the limitations we have put on our minds, there are things beyond the earth and beyond human comprehension. That Astro Spiritual Studies course he took in Sophmore year really did a number on him, and Mama Celeste always taught to keep an open mind to otherworldly happenings.

Lerato, on the other hand, did not suffer anything she couldn’t see, touch, or scan. Many things were black and white to her, and she knew that no human could be in this situation and live. Believing that an untouchable force would exist and allow such evil things to occur in the history of man was not feasible. If you have power, then use it for the betterment of a people. What’s the point of allowing wicked things to happen unless you yourself are evil?

Obiora, I am yours.

A voice, a distant whisper crept into Obi’s mind. “Lele, did you say something?”

“No, why? What did you hear?”

Claim your birthright, claim your power.

Obi felt a pull of emotion, suddenly his whole body knew that he needed to step into that Hangar. It was necessary to reveal this shining specter’s true purpose.

“Obi, what did you hear?”

He ignored her, her voice was drowned by the figures’ bewitching chant. She continued to scream “Obi! Obiora Chiduzor, what is happening? ANSWER ME!”

Claim your birthright, claim your power.

The closer he got to the figure, the louder the voice grew. Then suddenly it changed, he heard his Mama Celeste.

Look to those stars in the sky nwa m nwoke, there you will find your destiny.

Now he and the figure were face to face and the feeling was warm and bright even through the Radiguard suit. Obi knew what he had to do. He began to remove the armor meant to protect him from the radiation knowing that it would no longer be needed.

He placed the plasma rifle on the ground allowing the suit to drop. Lerato chose not to stay on the bridge and grabbed her own equipment. If anything was going to try and harm her husband she should at least try to kill it first. She decided against the suit, radiation be damned, and grabbed a disruptor pistol. Now she was running through the corridors, panting but determined. She reached Hangar Bay 3 as soon as it happened. Obi was consumed by the light filled entity, or it was consumed by him. That light grew brighter and brighter, until Obi was nowhere to be found.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Intensive on Stress 1001

Stress.

Classification: Deadly magical poison.

Those words were written on the blackboard of Professor Tina Korr. It was her area of expertise, this sticky word. A simple word, one that held as many complexities as there are stars in the sky. Tina, a strong looking woman, fit and healthy. She wore green spectacles that complemented her alabaster elven skin and red hair. Today she donned brown trousers and a white blouse, all swallowed by her green professor’s robe and cap which signified her specialty as a botanist at The School of Nature and Agriculture. She stood in front of her large blackboard, back turned to the rows of students waiting for her to acknowledge them.

Each student decorated in a unique color robe that would change every day until they finally decided upon a skill to hone. Blue for Aquatic Herbalism and Zoology, yellow for Arcane Agriculturalists, purple for Necromancy and Life Peregrination (the kindest souls of the bunch if you can believe it), white for Healing and Battle Sorcery, orange for Faeology and Cosmology, and green for Botany. Finally, she turned to see the beautiful rainbow of bright minds waiting to soak in all the knowledge she could give. She wished she could tell them that this class was not fun, that it would hurt them in ways unimaginable, that they would have to face their greatest fears just for a passing grade.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, open and “Good day Students, welcome to the course that will change your lives, Intensive on Stress 1001.” She saw the excitement in their eyes, this fuel that was lit aflame by the mention of a word they had never heard before. She inhaled that smoke and struck the match with it. “You will leave this course changed, physically and emotionally. The requirements needed to pass will either strengthen you or break you. However, you will not be alone. I will be here to guide you and ensure that you always land on your feet. Let us begin!

“Today we will discuss the purpose of this class, to explore and conquer the poison that is Stress.” She began to explain that before the three great mages of the Republic this poison was as accessible as fresh water near a stream. It was abundant and created from the people’s minds much like everyday thoughts flow through our heads. It was so regular that it was accepted as a part of everyday life. The mages decided that this was a failure in the world, one of the mistakes the beings who created beings made in the construction of our hearts and minds.

“Stress is caused by anything that overwhelms a being in nature. For example, should you fail a course now we would ask you to retry again at the start of the next semester, free of charge. Take that scenario and add the possibility of having to pay for it instead. Not only would you be creating stress in that moment, but your parents would also create stress by having to worry about making enough money to pay for an extra semester of schooling. When the Republic was formed, stress was deemed an enemy to be eradicated. Anything that was a potential stressor was removed from the fabric of Velta society, school fees, housing, food, healthcare, currency. Velta citizens wish for virtually but the ambition of aiding the Republic in spreading peace, therefore stress could no longer invade the minds of the average citizen. No poverty, no sickness, no hunger. Stress is not a thing you nor I can conceive aside from its form today, a bottled poison.”

A large black leather case lay on the large oakwood desk in front of her. With pursed lips and careful breathing, she unlocked the case which contained the stress poison. Inside, cozy and swaddled between hardwood and white cloth was a red bottle. The contents swirled around in the vial like an animal in a cage, trying desperately to claw its way out. “The mages, seeing how little stress there was in the new Republic, helped to create bottles much like this. It is a container but stress decays its surroundings. In the days of old stress could deteriorate complex emotions which led to the concession of baser instincts, murder, robbery, assault. Like emotions, this same vial will one day deteriorate and be unable to contain it. It is the purpose of this class to tame this poison and transfer its contents into another. Each of you will receive a case containing a vial of stress. You will study it, dissect its nature, and for your final examination, absorb it.” The rows of students showed all the elements of shock and interest. Some gasping, some accepting their fate too early, others laughing the feelings away. Such were the reactions of those that do not experience stress. There was no genuine fear for their lives, that they would die or be consumed by the poison. There was only excitement at the prospect of working with a new element or fear of failure.

Tina wondered what it was like to be so stupid, so naive, so helpless. Secretly, some sick part of her wanted to unleash the poison on them unawares. She wished to see them squirm and fight each other. To experience that which all others outside the Republic do and control every day. She could not imagine being born and never thinking a destructive thought. It was the conquering of those thoughts, those feelings that taught a being to be better. She envied them for their innocence, she was happy for them, she wanted them to overcome their great stressors, to come out powerful. But for now, she hated them. Transformation and success were born out of adversity, out of a battle fought inside one’s spirit. Without that battle they would remain weak, lily-livered, insignificant.

The truth is the Republic has been in a silent war with itself for decades, constantly fighting to cover up the dark deeds that are used to protect the poor bastards this pseudo-utopia. They will soon cave in on themselves, die in the fumes of asbestos covering rubble. Her counterparts share her belief, her class is regarded in high esteem. For she will create the future mages of the Republic, remove the veil from their eyes. Yet, they will do everything to protect it, for what else would one who knows the evil truth about peace conclude aside from fighting to protect it? Their families, their history, their culture, their home. They will wade in the shadows, allow the light to shine for a while. When the time comes, the darkness shall snuff out the light and reveal the truth to all.

A Brief History of the Velta Republic and Salara Stone

The Birth of the Velta Republic

The Velta Republic, a kingdom unto its own. Formed by three mages four thousand three hundred and twenty years ago, they wished to see their little village become a place they could be proud of. Therein they each endeavored to master various magical arts. The first mage, Sera the Mason, honed her magical abilities and used them to build the most magnificent structures out raw material. By her virtue the Guild of the Working Hand was created. Working Hand Mages today ensure that Republic infrastructure remains the best and most stable in all the seven seas. The next was Gilderoy the Fair, known for his abilities to seek out the truth and make equitable compromises through a technique called Heart Searching. His talent spawned a following of truth-seeking mage aspirants, together they founded the Justiciars Guild. They now oversee the courts, law enforcement, and protection of Velta by whatever means they see fit; this includes building separate guilds within the guild. Lastly, Andor the Fruit, the mage that fed the entire Republic with magic and vim. Andor mastered spells of nature and life, filling the soil with nutrients and keeping the granaries full through the harshest of winters. Through him The School of Nature and Agriculture was founded. Its students learn how to prolong, create, and speed up all forms of life. Together, the mages pooled their individual magics and created the first city on the continent of Seven Hills, Third Mount City. This marvel, built in the village the mages were raised in, is where the first Schools and Guilds of magic would be built. With their specialties they would begin a quest to create a utopia, a place where peace and stability were guaranteed.

The three mages, although individually talented, wished to create a symbol for the Velta Citizens to stand behind, a symbol of shining hope. They sought out a family to create a dynasty, and a group of representatives from each race which lived within the Republic. The dynasty would be made from a family with the purest of hearts. A spell was cast to find this family, the mages called it The Virtuous Vitality Tracker. It took the mages three years to find the family, a simple clan of Orcs that lived within a far-off town on the edge of the Seven Hills continent. They called themselves the Bintara Clan, simple farmers and traders who lived off the land. They had no wish to be royalty, in fact the mages needed an extra year just to convince them to accept. According to the mages, it was this reluctance which made them a necessary symbol. For if the ruling family were humble enough to be thankful for the position given to them through a matter of fate and not merit, then surely the rest of the nation would follow suit.

And so, on the fifth day of the ninth lunar cycle, Finnegan of House Bintara was crowned by the mages as King of The Velta Republic. To ensure that his position would never corrupt his duties, the title King was specified in the constitution as a servant classification. The King was required to work fields and hold jobs like any regular citizen, the same went for the other members of the royal family. King Finnegan had one request. It should be that from his first day as King till the end of time that anyone who becomes King must be elected by the people. Unknowingly, this request made him popular with the average citizen. When the vote was cast, the people voted him in and wrote that the School of Nature and Agriculture should extend his life. They named him, unofficially, The Forever King.

The nation thrived, spreading their values over to the inhabitants of the neighboring continents. The Velta Republic was now made up of three continents. Seven Hills, home to Orcs, Men, and Fae. Elita, the home of an elven race that refer to themselves as Eliten. Then Rexicor, home to a pacifist draconic species known as Daxminas. Both continents, seeing the utopia built in the Seven Hills, wished to have the same for their own people. Rexicor was the first continent to be brought into the fold. This hotpot of draconic species was and still is an Oligarchy, referring to their elders for wisdom and guidance. After the Fae and Men of the Seven Hills, the Daxmina Elderan Council were welcomed into the representative council by the Forever King six hundred years after his election. The Daxminas were peaceful and open-minded, they were willing to share their technologies and draconic magics with the Republic assuming they could bargain for supplies with it. King Finnegan explained that the Republic expected nothing but friendship and would give the supplies free of charge, in that moment the council knelt and pledged their life to serve the King. Two thousand years later, the Eliten were sent an envoy of grain and provisions when the council learned they were experiencing a famine as well as drought. This due to an irresponsible mage using ancient elven magics they did not understand. When an envoy was sent back thanking them for their help, the three mages were dispatched to Elita. With their combined magics they brought life back to salted soil and brought back the water flow to their cities. They showed the elven mages exactly what had been done so as to never risk famine or the health of their people again.

At this time Eliten was ruled by eight families; House Karr, House Tel, House Mithra, House Korr, House Sept, House Riel, House Mutara, and House Kiverr. The eight families convened to discuss the possibility of joining the Republic. It seemed at first that all the families were in agreement. Over the next three years the Eliten families and Republic representative council discussed terms and conditions of the merger. Suddenly the matriarchs and patriarchs of Houses Karr, Korr, and Mutara entered a meeting up in arms but unwilling to specify why. King Finnegan, deeply concerned and determined to keep the peace, urged them to bring to his attention any worries or issues they may have. Instead of unburdening themselves, House Karr’s patriarch stood up, looked at the three mages, and said forebodingly “You will pay a price for that which you have caused.” The three dissenting families left, taking their clans with them to settle elsewhere. Elita wasn’t large, yet those three family clans seemed to have the support of half the continent. Elita was emptied, peacefully and quietly, left to the winds the new united Republic would be blown by.

Salara Stone

Salara Stone. A ruthless and cunning, strategic, killing machine. She could walk past an army of ten thousand men, and still, no one would see her coming. To her compatriots she is known as Salara “The Slayer,” “Quick Foot” Stone. To her enemies in Fala she is known as Kivarti, which is Falan for something akin to an eater of souls. Solta ha’ar im ve ir Kivarti, “the soul eater will smile at your death.” In various Falan spy hives this phrase is used to instill fear in the hearts of new recruits, create some mythic and apocryphal hatred and animosity that only exists in the mind. It’s all fine with her, names and all, as long as they stayed away from the place she called home.

Salara is from the inner continent, the capital of Velta known as the Seven hills. The continent truly is the jewel of the Republic, seven beautiful mountains stretching over five thousand two hundred and sixty-five miles. In between and on top lived pockets of a civilization that wished to only live in peace and make so much the same with others. Salara longed for home, every night she dreamed of the city she grew up in. Third Mount City was the biggest in all the Republic, a hub for traders, craftsmen, and politicians alike. This dale, with its tall buildings and inconspicuous brothels, is the Republic’s busiest port. The Seventh Sea connected the Third Mount port, and in turn all the Republic with many other kingdoms. The Kanfa and the Zelanites passed through more frequently to trade in silks and other finery from the east and southern parts of the sea. So frequently that Kanfan and Zelani were considered unofficial languages of business.

As traders, Salara’s parents often took her on their excursions. Knowing the world and its dangers her mother saw it right to teach her daughter to fight. “Defend yourself my dear, and no one will ever dare to harm you or yours” her mother would say. Her mother Valina was a renowned trader of ancient artifacts and the best art one could find. A little less known for her experience in the Velta Shadow Sect, an assassin’s guild unknown to everyone in Velta except the most important nobility. Through her mother, Salara was skilled in a kind of fighting technique only taught to those in the guild. It was called the “Emperors Breaking,” with it one could force a person’s autonomic motor system to react in such a way that the bones in the body would simultaneously break. This technique was used only in the most dire of circumstances. Otherwise, guild standard assassination forms and undetectability procedures were not widely known but not kept secret either. Valina taught Salara everything she learned from the guild, and Salara used that knowledge to become the most virulent and dangerous weapon the Republic army had ever seen.

She had been on leave on the third continent of Velta, Elita, holding back the Falans and sniffing out spy hives across the continent for six years. The Eliten are deep loyalists. Naturally, this kept Salara busy, citizens coming forth to report a neighbor or suspected hive safe house. The issue with the Falans is that they are identical to the natives. The Eliten Scientific and Historical Guild (because why would you separate the two) understand that some long distant clan of Eliten seceded from the continent after a dispute over whether to join the republic or not. This was over three thousand years ago, you can imagine how an entire culture can develop, even for people that live to an average of three hundred. They believe they have kept the Eliten blood pure as well as the language (aside from changing their entire name). Their sole wish is to take over Elita and oust the Republic, destroying all non-Eliten within. Although Salara despised them, she admired their unwavering focus. They only targeted that which disrupted Republic life within Elita, only harmed non-Eliten, nothing more and nothing less.

Trade relations were attempted to be opened around the last Eliten comet storm a hundred years ago, the only thing that both the Republic and the Falans recognize as a good omen holiday. It was used to start a conversation, an effective conversation, until one of the Velta delegates was found dead. Of course, after that only war could follow. There had been no direct fighting until that incident, Velta only created an army for the sole purpose of fighting the Falans. Salara tried to understand why the Falans wished to exterminate all of Republic life, her beautiful home. She resolved to learn what she could and protect it like a concrete bastille. As good as she was at warcraft and death, she was tired of the blood, all the rage. For her the only escape was home or death, better was the latter. She wished to be rid of it all.

At the end of her daily patrol, one very mundane day, she fell onto her bed in the Regents Quarters wishing someone would just end it all for her. Just then, a body stepped out from the shadows on the left side of her blackwood desk, slender yet shapely and visible only on one side thanks to a singular candle. She drew her scimitar from its scabbard and in a devilishly menacing voice warned that “Today has been outrageously boring so I’m all set for a fight.” The cloaked visitor remained still saying nothing, noticeably not Falan due to missing green pyramid insignia on the blade hanging from their lit right side. All navy blue, silver armor, that can only be the Assassin’s Guild she thought. The stranger lowered their cloak and stepped into the light that encompassed the rest of the room. It was her mother; she dropped her scimitar and ran for an embrace.

Her mother accepted warmly and whispered “I love you more than anything, please say nothing and listen. The Guild has discovered a secret, one that has put it in direct conflict with the Republic. They are not who they say they are. Do not trust them, do not believe them. Act as though you know nothing. Goodbye my love.” With a kind kiss on Salara’s head, Mother Stone fell back into the shadows.

The Settler Suspicion

TRANSMISSION BEGUN:

Alpha-Nine-Epsilon-October

This is EF reporting to International Headquarters, location not disclosed.

Findings have come back as…disturbing. We infiltrated a Settler compound, based on the information collected I believe we are in significant danger. This transmission will be a bit different as I have basis for a possible attack in the foreseeable future, by whom I am unsure.

If this is found after my inevitable demise it is likely all information in this facility will be destroyed as well. Here’s hoping this survives at least.

We refer to the born-again aliens as Settlers, that reference will make sense later on. We couldn’t pronounce their species name and according to them Settler was the most direct translation. Their ships approached Earth forty years ago. Round and bulbous like perfectly scooped ice cream, shining and twinkling with colors we have no adjectives for. They carried the ship of astronaut Alonso Fell in tow. His ships navigation system had failed while his combustion chamber combusted too well and too long for a ship of its size and purpose, placing him near Europa. Everyone called it a freak accident, I call bull. I suspect they did that to foster goodwill and intent in us. Whatever they did, it worked.

Seeing a Settler these days is like seeing a pigeon flopping in front of a bus stop, common but definitely government orchestrated. They tower over us at eleven feet tall and more at times, hairless and fit like bald bodybuilders. Some are smaller, usually the young Settlers just born from their mysterious ship floating atop the white house spire. They have indeed taken over, just not like you think they would in the movies. No violence or “take me to your leader” nonsense

Some nights it seems as if they are connected by the darkness between them, an invisible stairway to an unknown place. They have faces, entirely unique and just as interesting as humans yet still, there is something missing. As if they have stolen them. They took a face and pasted it on like a mask or a bad wig. The only word I can use to explain it is…uncanny. Sometimes, if you look at one long enough to notice, their mouths do not move while they speak. Imagine a video with a lag, the screen is showing one thing, but the audio is coming through from a different part of it, that! They are constantly lagging, struggling to keep their facial movements at the same speed as their speech. Their skin is an interesting color of beige and darkened brown. Some are half and half, right down the middle, others have spots like cows. It is as if they could not decide what race they wanted to be and finally concluded that it would be best to just use both because in the end they are all the same, right?

They came under the white flag of peace, yes, just like they do in the movies but with an interesting and refreshing honesty. They explained that they were conquerors of their region five hundred and seventy-three earth rotations ago. They collected the knowledge of civilizations and used it to their benefit. This was good, as is wont to be for a habitual oppressor, until a plague of mass proportion swept their land. They called it fertamet, which can only be loosely translated to something relating to paranoia but on an extreme level. It caused the citizens to believe that everything was a malevolent plot orchestrated by some unknown entity. Long story short, two-thirds of the population had unfortunately resorted to killing themselves “just to get rid of the voices.” A search began for a cure as the incubation period had shortened and the paranoia turned into full-blown madness, animals as government spies and children working for rival clans, that sort of thing. The plague affected all parts of government, and when a distress call went out to the vastness of space begging for help, no one came. It was at this point that they realized they had no friends, and they knew exactly why. Unlike humans, they learned from the error of their ways.

No cure was ever found, but a way to counter the symptoms was developed, this led to a vaccine and the repopulating of their entire society. Instead of learning war tactics in their schools they petitioned for peaceful worlds to teach them diplomacy as younglings. They partner with worlds instead of colonizing, give without expecting in return, and seek out others who would share this same philosophy and adopt it into their own. The knowledge they gained from years of conquest was put to effective use, equipping it to travel the stars and change the lives of other civilizations. My job is to find all their weaknesses should they turn out to be the complete and total frauds we all think they are, save the white house and a good portion of the human population. I work with twelve other international intelligence agencies whom I cannot reveal as they have not officially recognized that this cooperative exists.

I am Easton Fell, son of the late Alonso Fell. My father shared his skepticism of the Settlers with me, biased but I like to think I take an objective view to world issues all the same. I believe I have discovered something that may save millions of lives while dooming myself. The settlers have a machine, not a weapon, a machine. It changes, mutates things into something resembling them. I believe that all the good they have done for our world to date is in preparation for this mutation. Our colleagues at NASA and the UK Government Office for Science have been analyzing the replication techniques used to provide with produce and provisions as well as the vaccines they have given us for several of our diseases. Most people around the world believe that cancers are a thing of ancient history like beepers and fax machines. Hunger is non-existent and infrastructure is solid based on their techniques. Yet in all the good that they have given us there is an underlying strand of DNA in the food, the vaccines, even the building material that…TRANSMISSION ENDED.

Selva Carr Interplanetary Liaison to the Settler Constituency; System, what caused the transmission to end?

BASED ON AUDIO, SYSTEM CONCLUDES THAT THE CAUSE WAS A CHAIN EXPLOSION.

The Anansi Links

In every story there lives an observer. We weave the webs, we are the Links.