“I was not the first to make the observation, but I was the first to directly draw the link. I think that’s worth some praise, don’t you think? It was the first mixes between the Delkar and other castes that stood out; the red colour was a strong indicator. I mean, who would have thought that the Cambiar individuals who had spent more time in human company would blend their original social castes, simplistic as they were, with ours so quickly. Now the question remains – are they attempting to adopt some of our nature, or are we contaminating theirs?” – Dr Seamus Pleats, Sociologist for the Out-Han Department of Social Sciences, 2261. From ‘A Discussion of Interspecies Social Groups’.

  Burning Scribe Chel-Lin Daksira left the laboratory after only a few hours of inspection, trying and failing to control the overwhelming anger at her new colleague. How was it that she, daughter of Blazing Authority Kar-Trine Daksira himself, was struggling to contain herself over a primitive, bipedal simian of all things. The irritating way he waddled about the workspace, the sly looks he had been giving the entire morning, and the harsh scratching of his chalk on the blackboard was enough to make her explode with rage.

  But she had to control herself. Control, control, control. That was what she had always excelled at, and that was what she needed to retain if she wanted to keep herself sane. There was no way she could stay in that place. Chel-Lin needed to leave and recover. Drifting through the tall halls of Nucleus Two, she desperately needed the guidance and teachings of the one she had always turned to in similar times. She was a Daksira; not some low stratum worker, stuck on a remote colony cleaning muck with her bare tendrils. If that Hun-Rel-Tok, that arrogant trouble stirrer, wanted attention, she would make it her goal to avoid him with all her strength, even if it meant leaving the laboratory. That’s right, she wasn’t giving into the organic wretch – she was just denying him the pitiful attempts at respect he desired.

  Passing through the disappointingly undecorated hallways of the facility, windowed meeting rooms and storage rooms passing by at regular intervals, she came to the entrance of a tall staircase. At its top floor laid a means for her to seize dominion over the rampant thoughts. Before she could open the door, its surface fitted with a manual handle - awkwardly designed for those with human or Cambiar features, a figure approached her. Expecting another human to test the limits of her patience, she turned her gaze downwards and was relieved to see Dr Rannos shuffling on the spot, wringing his clawed hands together.

  “Ah, Scribe Daksira,” he said, doing his best to speak in the native Tylas tongue. “Fancy meeting you here!”

  “Dr Rannos, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else here.” Chel-Lin replied.

  She was not in the mood to deal with anyone, regardless of their rank. However, she could at the very least put up with the Cambiar for a while. Damnation, in reflection she realized she could probably deal with anyone aside from him right then.

  “I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. You know, with the new… arrangement,” Rannos trailed off.

  “I am… getting used to it.” Chel-Lin’s mantle betrayed the emotions she was shoving down deep into her core, rippling all over and causing her few metal accessories tied to her neck scarves to jingle slightly. If the quadruped noticed her discomfort, he made no motion. If there was one positive to the human form, it was at least easy to tell what they were thinking – crude faces with far too many parts made for quite the exaggerated expressions. The Cambiar, however, were often blank faced, a gormless look often plastered across their visage. At best, they could give an exaggerated smile with their wide jaw for joy, or an overt slumping of their shoulders for sadness.

  “Good, good! That’s, uh, good to hear.” Rannos’ artificial emphasis did little to hide his anxiety. Finally, he cracked, slumping slightly. “Sorry, I actually came to give my apologies. About everything. The Symposium was not meant to happen this way. Not at all.”

  Before Chel-Lin could interject, he opened the door and nodded towards the sweeping staircase. It seemed he knew her destination. They moved onwards, Chel-Lin ascending through the empty space in the centre as Rannos skittered up each flight of stairs.

  “I did everything I could to organize this event in the first place, but despite all my efforts there were necessary concessions made. One such compromise made was the harsh timing, hence the lack of a proper introduction between your team members before that meeting. I had hoped to put everyone through some etiquette classes before actually seeing one another but…”

  “I understand, Doctor,” Chel-Lin said. “You’ve done everything you could. I just wish Savage wasn’t how he was. I had heard many good things about his work, despite the rumours about his nature, but the man himself is blatantly rude and unacceptably annoying.”

  “Yes, well, I’m afraid there’s little to be done about him, or Valentari.” Rannos laughed awkwardly, eye stalks cast downwards. Was he thinking that the problem laid with her? Surely not. Couldn’t he see that that animal, that bastard was the problem? “My hands are well and truly tied on the matter of the humans. As much as a conference between just our two species might go smoother, we need to make a statement about all sapient life being able to work together – difficult as that may be.”

  “Well maybe that says something about humanity, doesn’t it? Regardless, difficult or not, does that fool really need to work in the same space as me? Surely you know my record; I produce results just fine alone.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Burning Scribe, not for one second. However, Galant Corporation is a harsh task master, as the humans would say. The contracts signed by both you and Dr Savage both included clauses about ‘maximising results’ and the company took that to mean pairing the brightest minds of both humanity and the Baraldian Heralds. It is just unfortunate that Savage’s… behaviour… is not as impressive as his mind.”

  “Impressive?! The egotistical mammal wouldn’t know the first thing about manners or real science. Had he known his place in their first meeting, then maybe, just maybe, I would have given him a modicum of respect.”

  The stinging words had slipped out before she could realise it. Barald damn it, she really was losing control. Rannos simply paused as he looked over, sheepish. He shrugged before continuing upwards.

  “For the sake of your laboratory, I hope you can limit your disagreements to just words.”

  “My apologies, sir. He just… he stands for everything I despise in the art of learning; all ego, no thoughts.”

  Another betrayal from her body sent her outer sheath rippling. Barald’s wrath, she needed to get to the prayer room quickly.

  “Yet, if those are the chains that bind us, then so be it,” she said. “I will overcome this challenge with pride and humility. I am a Daksira, after all.” Chel-Lin hoped summoning her family name would give her the confidence she needed to mean her words. It did not.

  “Thank you I mean that, from the depths of my heart.” Rannos turned as they reached the final flight of stairs, bowing and snapping his jaw shut. “If it helps you, perhaps you should speak to the other team members? You might be surprised by their insights on human nature. See if you can find out why Dr Savage is how he is, perhaps?”

  With that, he turned to return down the stairs, the sound of his claws clacking against the tiled floor. Alone at last, the chamber near silent and still, she exited the stairwell. The top floor of Nucleus Two featured a row of skylights that let in the natural glow of Kral-Thul into the hall. At night, she could image the night sky above, starlight dancing across the heavens. Due to the lack of use of its facilities, most of the upper floor was unlit. Only the evening light streaming in above lit her path.

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  Eventually Chel-Lin found her desired room, a out of the dozens. Though the others contained dormitories, the room she desired was built for a different purpose. With her ribbon-like appendage pressed against scanner of the door, she thought back on Dr Rannos’ advice. The notion of talking with the less frustrating primitives was a daunting task, but Chel-Lin was willing to accept any help if it would resolve the situation with Savage. She imagined that the disgusting monkey would refuse to do the same in her position – he bore too much pride for that. Barald taught the values of working with one’s lessers, and perhaps the stress of dealing with such lower creatures could be diminished if she thought of it as a religious exercise. If nothing else, then Chel-Lin could perhaps bear to interact with the animal for the sake of her god.

  She steadied herself and entered the small closet of a room, pitch black and windowless. The plaster of the walls and ceiling had been replaced with a special alloy.

  Interspersed between the metal sheets were twisted shapes that probed towards the empty space in the centre, the angle of each spike perfectly calibrated as intended by Barald. The void in the middle of the room was just wide enough that if she extended her mantle wide, she would barely touch the edges of the metallic spikes that surrounded her. The whole apparatus was attached to batteries in the floor below for the purposes of recycling the energy Chel-Lin was about to spend. Though the risk of mere sharp implements was nothing to a modern Tylas, the innate fear of her distant ancestors towards such hazards when their outer sheath was far more delicate some millions of years prior still lingered. Of course, that was the point of this chamber – to overcome that primal fear for the sake of her god.

  Removing her adornments, the purple ribbons and various electronic devices removed with practiced movements from her tendrils, they were delicately suspended on a wooden post by the door. She moved to the centre of the space. Now, naked of external interferences, she began her vows. Not aloud, as she had heard some humans did for their own false beliefs, but inside her mind where Barald and Barald alone would hear her.

  ‘Highest Flame Barald, I call to you now to give my part of a whole. Though my efforts are nothing compared to your chains, I hope to shatter your bondage if only by a fraction. I come to give my energy, and to see the light of a new day. See me through this dark time, as I serve in you in yours. Blessed be thy name, for I await your return. Kha-Sala.’

  Chel-Lin finished the personalized mental litany with a traditional phrase of personal encouragement. The time had come for her physical worship, the part that was said to assist in returning Barald to the universe. When he returned, all of the true believers would be granted eternal peace, and he would smite the defiers, those who spat on his name. So it was told, at least.

  Slowly, she opened up dozens of small slits across her outer sheath and initiated the Kel-Hraz-Sha. These holes exposed her internal core, a swirling mass of concentrated gas held within her central body, to the outside world. Taking a moment to steady herself, she released the violent energy within her flow out. The orange gas permeated the air surrounding her, soaking onto the surfaces of the spikes, each meant to represent the different spires that bound Barald in his prison. In his world beyond life, her God was ensnared, trapped in a void of darkness and fear. Bit by bit, she let the excess energy she had stored over the past few days leak away, each second the ticking of a chronometer towards death. As a Herald of Barald, one of his worshipers, she did her duty, the duty of all loyal Tylas.

  The new feeling of lightness overtook Chel-Lin as some of her pent up tension burnt away from the exercise. Of course, only the most pious and devout would risk their own lives when performing the Kel-Hraz-Sha – everyone else simply gave as much as they could reasonably spare, and even then it was considered a token exercise to some. Barald was going to return at some point, it was inevitable, so why should she waste her own energy and life in the present? It was an idea most Tylas in the Baraldian Heralds left unsaid but still thought and acted upon. It was undeniable that the energy release was relaxing to Chel-Lin, and she did hope that her efforts would be put to good use.

  And yet, it was still just routine.

  As much as Chel-Lin hated to admit it, in a spot deep and dark enough that even Barald would not dare look, her god was far more of an emotional anchor than a real figure in her mind. The image of a colossal Barald, his form larger than stars yet still ensnared in wicked chains of flesh and bone had once been an awe-inspiring thought as a child. And yet, the glory of such a vision had faded in radiance as she grew older – part of her simply did not consider his theorized situation as realistic. None of her studies of both the fixed and breakable laws of reality pointed towards the idea of such a person actually existing, and could not be tied to the efforts of the Tylas undergoing ceremonial energy release.

  This doubt was not an idea limited to her, of course, but she had in particular felt that the concept of Barald was more a representation of her own desires than a real fact of the universe. There were other reasons to doubt the belief, however.

  The first major blemish against the traditional view of the Heralds was the appearance of not one but two sapient life forms on their borders. Not only that, but both Humanity and the Cambiar had spread across the galaxy like corrosion on metal during the rainy seasons of Kraesa, the Tylas homeworld. The Speakers for Barald had claimed that all other life in the universe were merely animals, lowly, base and instinctual. And yet, the intruders had traversed hundreds of light years beyond their homeworlds to find the Heralds with technology almost surpassing their own. In fact, she knew for a fact that if it came to it, her people would not survive an all out war with the combined efforts of the other races, with their ability to rapidly spread across the stars and the innate desire of violence on the part of the humans. And their arrival had not even been random chance – they had somehow detected the presence of the Heralds from an obscene distance away.

  Some had initially considered them to be experiments from the other traitor Tylas civilisation, those that had split away many years ago on their own journey for meaning. However, it was unlike the Fualic Composers to spend any time on anything other than their abstract one-mindedness on alternative plans than their dream of a superstructure capable of harnessing the full power of a star. For them to even consider something as significant as the creation of new life was impossible. As such, the presence of two more species, strange as they were, in the universe was the first sign that the Baraldian myth of Tylas uniqueness was not all as it seemed. When the bipeds started exchanging information during first contact, it had been enough for the top Speakers and Authorities to cut off them off in a panic lasting quite some time. Though their shared first contact never progressed to overtly hostile actions, their surprise appearance was enough to sour all future relationships.

  Sealing up the holes to her core, having slipped into a trance and draining far more energy than she had initially intended to, Chel-Lin fell to the floor in a heap. Such a disgraceful position was not becoming of any Tylas, let alone a Daksira, and she floated upwards after a few moments. There was no one else to see, but the shame still lingered for a moment. Though she did not breath, as the unpleasant organics did, her body did shudder as her body returned to equilibrium. It was as she drifted there, suspended in the air after her deep reflection that she came to a thought – was the fact that humanity’s presence marred her previously pure image of Barald part of why she could nothing but derision for the ape? Was there something alongside her feeling there? Something not quite as detached?

  No, that was ridiculous. He was a petulant, prideful, arrogance insult to what life should be about – just a primitive who had overstepped his boundaries. There was no such way that mere organics could affect her belief that much. Ridiculous, unbelievable.

  Of course, she had spent some time researching humanity when she had heard about them. They did such strange things, things that seemed inconceivable for a Tylas. The notion of ‘sport’, the physical exertion for the sake of mere entertainment was baffling. Furthermore, when she had looked into their digital recreations of certain sports, and the apparent pleasure one could feel when using them was also unbelievable. So much so, she had looked into and subtly acquired such devices. The purpose of the tool she had retrieved was to use a floating vehicle of unsafe design to compete with others in a race of speed. The fact it took Chel-Lin hours to tear herself away from it had been enough for her to put it away for some time out of disgust. Maybe she could ask Savage as to how best to play it ne-

  No.

  Redressing and preparing to leave, she looked once more at the Kel-Hraz-Sha station. Perhaps she was a Barald of her own, forced to deal with biological chains of a different kind. How much longer would she need to put up with the foolish creatures?

  Chel-Lin shook her head. She needed to restore her drained energy and to clear her mind. Only then would she consider returning back to the laboratory. Back to him.