Featured Species - The Zig

Name: The Zig

“Nearly every other race we have encountered speaks of a concept… perfection.  Despite our intelligence, it took us a long time to understand what they meant by it, perfection.  How could there be a final state?  An ultimate design?  We understand this quest for perfection now, though.  It is an unfortunate mental defect brought about by not being Zig.” – An Dar Ak Raht, Zig Senator

Appearance:

            The Zig in general shape and size are quite similar to humans.  The greatest visible difference is in coloration.  The Zig have skin with distinctive metallic tones, which in a healthy specimen  from their home world are a slightly iridescent with a silvery sheen.  The exact tones and hues vary greatly based on diet and planet of origin.  Their hair is stiff, wiry and often difficult to manage.  The very practical Zig will often either cut it extremely short, shave it, or ignore it.  Their general build is based largely upon caste, although there are exceptions in those who were born to parents of one cast and chose to join another.  The Iron Caste or Laborers tend to be very solidly built, with heavy facial features and broad shoulders.  The Copper Caste or Scientists are usually lean, with long, tapering fingers and slightly exaggerated sensory organs.  The Gold Caste or Leaders cut an even average in build between the Scientists and Laborers and often have exaggerated secondary sexual characteristics.

History:

            The Zig have been a space faring race for slightly longer than the Mauraug, though their society has nowhere near the monolithic character of the Covenant.  They too evolved from a primate-like species on a world not dissimilar to Terra. Their home world circles a star that sits in the outer arm of an especially rich nebula, not dissimilar to the conditions of Tesetsi Prime .  The abundance of elements that are rare in many other parts of space allowed the DNA based life of Zig Prime to adapt a host of solutions and processes not performed by life on other worlds.  The presence of these catalysts allowed for great efficiency of biological process, allowing for rapid evolution and adaptation.

            The Zig love of organization coupled with their lightning-quick minds resulted in many political systems being explored and either adapted or dropped.  Given their social behavior but strong sense of individual identity, the republic was a popular mode of governance that eventually survived their expansion into space.

            The isolationist stance of the Zig took shape early on.  First contact for the Zig was a deadly affair that started with the destruction of a colony and lead to a centuries-long war with a neighboring civilization.  The infamous Zig practicality lead to the genocide of the other species, and set a trend for them.  Their Republic did not share space gladly with other races that could consume the same resources that they do, and treated those other races as competition at best and rivals at worst.  As a result, they gained a galactic reputation that was not much more positive than that of the Mauraug.  Rather than being seen as despotic overlords they were viewed as terrifying outsiders who would eliminate other races wholesale and take their worlds.  This view was not far from the truth.

            The only thing that saved the Mauraug as a species from annihilation by the Zig was the very size of the Dominion.  Although they were convinced that given time and resources they could eradicate the Mauraug, their space was roughly the same size at the moment of first contact.  Such a war would be too draining upon the Republic and their Senate was unable to reach a consensus concerning the Mauraug until the Hrotata and Great Family arrived on the Galactic scene and convinced them to ally.

            The Tesetsi Diaspora was extremely helpful to the spread and maintenance of the Zig.  At first their worlds were leery of accepting these refugees from the empire of their blood enemies, but the medical miracles that the Tesetsi were able to provide as well as their low numbers and similarity of mindset overcame the Zig xenophobia rather quickly.  Although they have never been fully accepted as members of the Republic (nor would they want to be) the normalized relations with the Tesetsi may have actually paved the way for acceptance of the Great Family and the proposition of the Collective.

            The Zig reaction to mankind was also a mixed one.  Zig arrogance dictated that humans were like unto dumb cousins.  They were similar in physical form, and not too dissimilar mentally (although, of course, slower than the Zig).  Zig also had less concern with the humans’ use of artificial intelligence than many other races did.  Although the Zig themselves need no other minds to think for them, it seemed like a practical solution for a less-intelligent race.  The only Zig concerns about mankind revolve around mankind’s expansionist tendencies.  Other than the Mauraug and possibly the Great Family, no other race has the potential to be such direct competition to their kind, and they have marked this well.  Since human space is on the other side of Dominion space from the Zig Republic, they are less concerned about it presently but acknowledge the potential for mankind to be a dangerous rival should they become more established in the Galaxy.  Therefore Zig politics tends to be more conservative than usual when concerning mankind, rarely garnering support for human colony worlds unless Zig trasmuters and terraforming are directly involved in the project, giving them a foot in the door.

            The Zig also had the misfortune of making First Contact with the Awakeners, and that has left a mark upon them.  The crew of a Zig terraforming effort was viciously psychically assaulted on a potential colony world.  The entire staff went mad within days, and when a Collective effort was sent to find out what happened to them, the Hrotata telepath aboard reported many powerful intelligences on the planet, who were attempting to strike out at those who had begun poisoning their air and water.  

            When it was discovered that fungal colonies were at the root of this, the Republic demanded their extermination.  These deliberations lasted long enough to allow for two things to happen: established Awakeners complete with hosts and ships made themselves known and apologized for the actions of their less civilized brethren, and the mind-plague was revealed.  The rogue Awakeners on the colony world in questions had created a very destructive meme that spread through Zig psyches, causing confusion and distress among regular Zig and crippling insanity among their telepaths.  The discovery of the meme would have been the nail in the coffin for the Awakeners had other Collective species not realized their potential and unanimously offered them membership.  The Zig, unable and unwilling to accept the Awakening, have voted against nearly every motion the Awakeners have made as a species, and keep an eye out for motions made by other species that might benefit them.

            The meme plague still spreads through the Zig.  Only a small percentage of their population has been affected, but it spreads quite easily and attempts by Zig telepaths to cure it have thus far only resulted in their own infection.   The Awakeners have offered to help make reparations and aid in the cure, but this has been rejected out of hand by the xenophobic Zig.  As a result, the Zig have a few quarantine worlds that they position guards in the orbits of and allow no direct communication with.  Newly infected Zig are sent to these worlds almost immediately if diagnosed.  Mauraug diplomats have tried hard to have sanctions imposed on the Zig for violations of the rights of sapient beings, but their motives are obvious to the rest of the Collective and such efforts have been solidly grounded time and time again.

            Despite setbacks, the Zig Republic enjoys great prosperity.  Its members do not want for material things, or (due to their connection to the Tesetsi) medical care.  Individual Zig tend to live full lives, well cared for and with as much potential for growth as is possible within their political and social system.  If the Zig have any complaints about the current state of affairs, it is reflected in mild irritation at getting lower priority in the establishment of colony worlds and in the fight for resources.  Other races generally agree that the Zig are far ahead of them where inhabitable worlds are concerned and with their ability to synthesize necessary compounds and elements they do not need as extensive resource rights.  This resentment is tempered by the satiety that comes with abundance and their racial pride.  They generally believe that their race will be able to out think and out last the others based simply upon their own merits and their policies and interaction with the rest of the Collective reflect this.

             

Native Technology:

            Materials Tech.  After expanding their colonies past their home system, the Zig discovered that many of the planets available for colonization or terraforming were less than ideal in that they did not carry the blend of heavy metals unique to the Zig world and biosphere.  The vast Zig intellect was turned towards the development of elemental transmutation, first out of desperation and then out of stubbornness.  After centuries of experimentation they produced the basis for the technology that they are famous for today.  Their matter transmuters allow them to alter molecular and even atomic structures safely, which enables them to produce any elements that they need.  Their experience in the use of these transmuters and their byproduct technology has allowed them to create materials with very unusual physical properties including transparent metals, superconductive gas, and compounds that include normally non-reactive elements.  Most Collective ships boast Zig bulkheads and drive housing and many Collective colonies (even some Covenant-owned) have teams of Zig available to man atomic transmuters that make terraforming much more feasible.  Weapons applications have been known to exist as well; they Zig are known to possess technology that allows them to alter the state of matter at a range.  They also produce their infamous “molecule seeds” that provoke the transmutation of an element they encounter.  On the large scale these have been use to destroy the atmosphere of a world by converting the oxygen to something far less (or more) reactive.  On a more personal level, Zig projectiles sometimes contain molecule seeds that can poison or even destroy organic tissue that their alchemy comes into contact with.

Biology:

            On the surface, Zig biology is very similar to that of humans and the Mauraug.  Investigation of basic biochemical processes reveals this to be a fallacy.  The heavy metals in the Zig system serve as catalysts for many of their biological functions where they would merely build up and cause tissue damage in most other DNA-based life.

            One side effect of this is the hyper-efficient Zig nervous system.  Their electrochemical transmitters are much faster than those of other life forms with similar nervous systems.  As a result they tend to be far more intelligent individually.

            A Zig with the proper nutrients will also heal damage to their body very quickly.  Although their immune systems are not better equipped to deal with foreign pathogens than most, they are capable of restoring damaged tissue at an astonishing rate when their diets have a full complement of minerals.  They are even capable of regenerating lost limbs and (given proper medical attention) vital organs, given time.  This remarkable healing is a property that they share with all of the life forms of their home world, and was a major point of interest for Tesetsi biologists during the Diaspora.

Culture:

The Zig caste system is the source of much interest.  A Zig chooses his caste and gender before he reaches full adulthood, as the Zig go through a powerful growth spurt at puberty.  During this growth spurt, they tend to adapt to the physical characteristics of those around them.  The Zig generally choose to remain with the castes of their parents’ family, but may choose another caste pre-puberty.  If so, they are moved to live with another family of the appropriate caste, among members of their chosen gender, allowing their coming of age transformation to specialize them.  Although a Zig is not forbidden from seeing his old family, ties usually fray and break over the years as they have less and less in common with their biological parents.

The Zig race populates a vast enough region and has enough members that attempting to encapsulate their cultural variety in a few simple pages is impossible.  However, certain things hold true on most Zig worlds.  On a given world norms of style, dress, and entertainment are more often than not caste-based.  The workers tend to enjoy crude and slapstick humor and down-to-earth drama.  The Scientists often favor intellectual humor and documentary entertainment.  The Leaders are usually patrons of social drama and have complex role-playing games and theatrical productions.

There is a movement of admiration for human culture and the pace of human life that has sprung up since mankind’s’ joining of the Collective.  There are those among the Zig that see the relatively slow pace of human life and behavior as being a form of enlightenment; humans suffer less stress-based diseases, both physical and mental, than the high-strung Zig and have an appreciation for life and depth of emotion that Zig culture does not go out of its way to cultivate.  “Humicker” Zig work to question their constant urge to alter and improve their environment, and engage in very un-Zig like practices and philosophies such as Zen and Taoism.  They also will often mimic humans on a more base level as well, occasionally taking human names and dressing in human fashions.  Humickers are treated as mentally incompetent or diseased by the eminently practical Zig, and although they are not necessarily discriminated against, there are therapists and counselors among the Leader caste that specialize in “setting them straight”.  Outside observation is on the fence concerning these Zig; there are those that claim that fighting their natural urges lead to even higher levels of stress, and there are those that wish that the madly active Zig would learn to take a step back and enjoy the world as it is rather than constantly seeking to improve the things that may not require improvement.

Psychology:

            It has often been said of the Zig that when they look at a thing they do not see the thing, they see what it can be made into.  This applies across the board for all of their castes; not only are they great Scientists, but their Leaders are frighteningly capable social engineers.  Their highly efficient cerebrums are calibrated to constantly alter and improve their environment.

            Some take these qualities as a form of callousness, not understanding that from the Zig perspective these things are a matter of practicality.  Having powerful family and social bonds, they rarely identify strongly with those outside of their established social group, much like the Vislin, who are the most agreeable members of the Great Family to them.

S.C.A.P.E. Goats - Chapter 5

Jump back to S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter 4 

                Mary sat down at the small table with her grandfather.  She glanced out the windows that surrounded the pod that she was in; all she could see was filtered bluish-grey sea water and a tunnel leading off to a larger residential hub and occasional bits of Loch’s sea-life floating past.  So it was on her home world, far, far away from where her body lay dreaming; most of the residents lived beneath the vast oceans of the planet, under tremendous pressure.  Her family had been lucky enough and wealthy enough to be able to have a few privacy amenities like this one.

                She held the cup of hot coffee in her hands.  It dwarfed them, and she realized that she was a lot younger in this dream than she actually was.  Her grandfather towered over her like a giant with heavy jowls, sparse hair and watery blue eyes.  Bright red capillaries born of heavy alcoholism adorned his nose, and the overpowering reek of Scotch made her own eyes water.

                “Why’dja bring me out here, girlie?”

                <<Gruber: You realize that Omega Protocol is only to be initiated when absolutely necessary.  It is difficult to coordinate and displays a lack of trust.  Why did you insist on it?”>>

                “I just wanted some private time with you.  I didn’t want everyone to hear us talking, grandpa.”

                <<Mary: I’m quite aware, and I’m sure that you’ll understand when I go into detail.  There are people who shouldn’t hear what I have to convey, and those people may belong to SCAPE as well.  Is that acceptable?>>

                “Ach, all right lassie.  Can you get your grandpapa a drink, maybe?  My throat’s a bit dry.”

                <<Gruber:  Do you have your report compartmentalized?>>

                Mary reached under the table and opened the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Scotch, imported from Earth.  It was a horribly decadent purchase, so much so that Mary was a little embarrassed that she had such clear memories of it and wondered if it made Gruber think any less of her.  She pulled out a smooth, round glass and poured her grandfather a couple of fingers and put the bottle away, passing him the glass.

                Grandpa began to sip at the scotch, his eyes widening and expression becoming blissful.  “That’s the stuff… “

                <<Gruber:  Good info.  You’ll be happy to know that the Rell is doing all right.  I’m not seeing from this report why you called Omega here, though.>>

                “When you’re done with it, Grandpa, maybe we can play a game.”  Mary suggested.

                <<Mary: You’ll understand when you’re done with the report.>>

                Grandpa scowled.  “Ya can’t just rush a good Scotch, ya know.”  He grunted and continued to sip.

                <<Gruber: There’s a lot of information here.  Give me a couple of minutes.>>

                Mary looked under the table and pulled out a board with alternating red and white squares.  It was solid wood, from the Homeworld, and also a luxury, though not so much so as something disposable like the Scotch.  She set it down on the table in plain sight.

                “What’s yer game, girlie?  Chess or checkers?”

                <<Gruber:  How long do you think this assignment is going to last, Mary?  It doesn’t look like it’s a very large organization.  We could move on them this week.>>

                “I don’t know, Grandpa.  Should we even be playing a game?”

                <<Mary:  I wouldn’t have invoked Omega and asked for a private dream meeting if I thought that this was going to be a simple issue.  Have you gotten to the part about the Awakeners?  They are seriously concerned about their involvement.  That’s one of the reasons I that I called for this; I wanted to have someone who wasn’t an Awakener review the information before it is shared and archived.>>

                “Yer always playing a game, Mary, whether you think you are or not.  The smarter folks, we know it.  Don’t forget it.”  He finished the scotch, leaned back, and dug his thumbs into his waistband with a contented sigh.

                <<Gruber:  Every small group like this has paranoid fantasies.  It would only make sense for a group of rebel psychics to take issue with Awakeners.  What have you found that lends any credence to their theories?>>

                “Grandpa, do you think you could help me make my own chess set?”  Mary pleaded, her hands on the table.

                <<Mary:  This is only one cell, boss.  We could grab these guys, but there’s a network to be concerned about.  I think Althea is more important than she has suggested, too.  I want to find out who she is.  She claims that she left the Society a few years back.  Not many of us disappear, Hans, it’s got to be a pretty short list.

                I need your help.  I need a legitimate reason to have access to information surrounding the Awakener incidents that she told me about.  If there is any reasonable doubt about them I can sow seeds of distrust among other members of the group.  If there isn’t… well, then we all need to know.>>

                “Ah, sure, of course!  I’ll just cut down yonder tree out there – “ Her grandfather waved expansively at the blue-grey waters.  “- and I’m sure you’ll be right handy with a table saw at yer age.  Nah, if you want a chessboard, use the one we’ve got for you.  There’s a reason we pay people to do things for us, girlie: they’re better at it than we are.  You make yer own chessboard and it’ll look like shite.”  He thumped his glass once on the table.  Mary frowned and pulled out the bottle again, pouring him a couple more fingers’ worth.

                <<Gruber:  Part of the glue that holds together SCAPE is the trust that our agents put in each other, Mary.  I can put forward requests to access specific files or reports for you, but have you do it yourself because a bunch of half-baked psis have been trying to fill your ears with paranoid nonsense?  No.  You’re not a data analyst, you’re a Systems Engineer and a SCAPE agent.  Get me the specifics and I’ll have them investigated for you.>>

                “But Granpda, what if I get practice?  There can’t be many other people who can make chessboards here.  And you always told me that the rarer a thing is, the more valuable it is.  What could be rarer than a chessboard made on here on Loch where there are no trees?”  Mary didn’t like wheedling her grandfather; he had a lot of grandkids and was wise to it.  She had spent much of her life watching her family pay other people to do things for them, though, and had always found it frustrating, though she was young enough that it was hard to give voice to her frustrations.  She wanted to be the one doing things, making things, and getting paid for it herself.

                <<Mary:  Give me a chance, Gruber.  I’m on the ground floor on this one.  Degrees of separation means that anything that gets through to our data handlers is going to be third or fourth hand.  I want to see this for myself.  I’ll keep up on the reports, and unless I come across something big, we won’t have to go Omega again, and if I do, then you’ll know why – I found some fairly obvious evidence of Awakener malfeasance.  I know you can pull the strings to get me into some kind of comm analyst position, or archival work.  It’s not too much of a stretch, and it would go a long way towards getting Althea’s trust – as well as finding out who she really is.>>

                Grandpa rubbed his forehead, jowls quivering.  In the window behind him a shape rose in the water, looking like a slick-sided barrel with a starfish at one end and membranous fins or wings gently pushing it away from the pod that they were sitting in.

                “Mary, some people just aren’t made to do that sort of thing.  Yer not that kind of girl, none of our family is.  We don’t build little things.  I’ll tell ya what though, since I used to like to whittle back when I was a young man on the Home World – promise me that it’s just a hobby.  Promise me that it won’t take away from yer school or yer friends, and I’ll get ya some materials and some tools.  My Brin probably knows a bit about the craft, I’ll let ya sit with him for instruction.”

                <<Gruber:  Fine, we’ll get you moved, but I want you to know that I’m marking your insistence at this as a possible cause for concern.  Paranoia can be infectious.  I’m going to request that you put in more regular reports, and we’re going to need to give you monthly checkups, too.  It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mary – it’s that you’re young, you’re new at this, and I sure as anything don’t trust them.>>

                The odd creature continued to propel itself away, fading into the distance.  Mary got up and gave her Grandpa a hug, and the scent of his aftershave, deodorant, sweat and Scotch gave her a dizzying wave of nostalgia.

                “Thank you, Grandpa!  I promise won’t let it get in the way of school.”

                <<Mary:  Thank you for the opportunity.  I really do hope that I’m wrong.  Also, we had an observer, but I think they got frustrated, they just left.  That’s the other half of the reason I invoked Omega, Hans.  They’re watching me like a hawk.>>

                Grandpa petted her on her head.

                <<Gruber:  So are we, Mary.  So are we.>>

Jump forward to S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter 6

S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter Links Page

Full-Throttle Ahrottl - Chapter 7

Jump back to Full-Throttle Ahrottl Chapter 6

                “What’s the Red Key?”  Maria asked.

                “A Hrotata legend…” Mother Superior began.  Ahrottl cut her off viciously.

                “NOT a legend.”  She swallowed, still Stilled, unable to tear her eyes away from the bodies lying in front of her.  “History.  My great-to-the-twenty-fourth grandmother knew Vettreg.  My great-to-the twenty-second uncle’s cousin was there when they found the tomb opened.”

                “Well,”  Mother Superior replied crisply.  “my sources identify it as a legend.  I’ve certainly not seen any pictures of it.”

                “Of course not.  You’re a history enthusiast, right?  You’ve specialized in the history of the Grrahthatt nation?  YOU’RE FROM HROTATA PRIME?  Of course you are.”  Ahrottl sneered.  “After all, if there’s no picture of it, it doesn’t exist, right?  That’s human thinking for you!”

                Gerry protested, “Hey, Throttle…”

                “The Red Key was real.”  Ahrottl heaved a sigh and resisted the urge to curl up into a ball.

                “Shaharrtl came to the city of Tahr with a wagon full of equipment and a dream, to open up the tomb of the Great Matriarch Tahr-eeka, the Matriarch who supposedly founded Tahr in ages past.  He didn’t share the dream, of course - he didn’t want to get executed.  He stayed and watched the locals and looked for someone, someone who would be desperate enough to help him in a sacrilegious and perilous venture.

                “That’s how he met Vettreg.  Vettreg was a good-for-nothing, a layabout and a drinker.  Vettreg was the husband of Srrash, who had married him for his beauty when he was young, but could not divorce him as they had had kits and it was illegal in Tahr to divorce a male that had produced young.  Likewise, she couldn’t attract any other mates due to the reputation hit she had taken since marrying him.  So, Shaharrtl went to Srrash and made her a deal: if she ordered Vettreg to go with him and help him, he would let her keep half of the loot from the venture.  If, for some reason Vettreg failed to return, she would be free to re-marry.  Either way, her situation could only improve.  Srrash agreed.”

                “Wow, what a bitch.”  Gerry said, surprised.

                “She was a bit cold-hearted, wasn’t she?”  Ahrottl agreed.  “She sent Vettreg out to help Shaharrtl without even telling him where they were going.  Vettreg had no choice but to agree, although he sorely hated labor.  Refusing a direct order from his wife could have netted him no end of punishment which was, I am sorry to say, perfectly legal at the time.

                “So Shaharrtl and Vettreg went out of town, trailing over the dusty hills, to the old edifice, the ancient tomb of the founder of Tahr.  It was unguarded, even though everyone knew that she had been buried with much of the material wealth that she had accumulated.  She had a Vislin architect design her tomb and fill it with the most diabolical and cunning sorts of traps.”

                “It’s always weird to be reminded that other sapients evolved on the same planet with you.”  Maria murmured.

                Ahrottl chose not to acknowledge this, and continued, in full storyteller mode.  “When they arrived, Shaharrtl knew that the front door was not the place that they wanted to enter, as it was the last place trapped.  He had been studying this tomb for a long time, and had even made consultations with other Vislin architects, all of whom agreed: if the tomb did have a safe way in, it would not be the front, especially as the front doors and chambers were the last portion of the tomb that were finalized, and the last place that the original architect had exited from.  His crew had not left with him, mind you – no-one else was to know about the construction or know the secrets of the tomb.

                “No, there had to be a back door that the architect and his crew had entered through so that they could make their way through and complete and set the final traps before leaving.  The back door might be trapped, but not nearly so grievously as the front.  Shaharrtl had found an outcropping of rock on a nearby hill that he was convinced hid the entrance, so he gave poor Vettreg a shovel and bade him to start digging.

                “For a whole day and a night Vettreg did the most exhausting work of his life, carving into the thick soil with the blade of the spade and prying it loose for Shahrrtl.  It was back-breaking labor, the sort of work that a Taratumm would have done without effort or a thought – but Shahrrtl didn’t have a Taratumm handy, just poor Vettreg.  Vettreg shook for lack of drink and hallucinated, and at night was forced to sleep away from Shahrrtl – forced to sleep alone when another Hrotata was but meters away from him!”

                She paused for effect here but no one responded.  No gasps.  The severity of that was lost on this particular audience.  She continued.

                “Finally, he found the entrance, a square stone doorway.  He spent the next day in a harness, pulling on ropes for Shahrrtl, trying to dislodge the door.  Finally, he managed to get it open, into the cold, empty darkness beneath the hill.  After sniffing to try and detect fumes, Shahrrtl handed him a torch and bade him go first.

                “Vettreg, exhausted but without any choice, ventured in first, and thus began a long journey through harrowing tricks and traps left behind by the coldly ingenious Vislin engineer.  He dodged swinging pendulum blades, held his breath through poisoned gas, rolled beneath collapsing stone, and hopped from crumbling platform to platform, always first and opening the way for Shahrrtl.

                “They finally reached the Matriarch’s tomb, and Vettreg thought that for sure, it was worth what he had put up with to get there.  Jewelry of silver and platinum and gold, ivory from a dozen creatures, and works of arts that made even the hard-hearted Shahrrtl weep and dance to see.  They bundled up as much as they could safely carry without being slowed down, the most valuable pieces that they could find, and hoped that they could make it out the front gate safely.

                “Now, Vettreg was a simple fellow and had been underfed and felt very under-appreciated, so when, searching through the magnificent golden vases, he found some very well-preserved jerky and fish sauce, he gobbled it down straightaway.  It’s important to note that, and that Shahrrtl did not say anything to him at the time.

                “Again, they went through a battery of deadly traps, though these ones did not damage the tomb behind them.  At last they came to the central chamber where, sitting around a jug and with empty mugs in their hands, were the mummified bodies of the laborers, all twenty-two of them, poisoned.  Carved lightly on the inside of the door was a message for them.  It didn’t name them, certainly, but it was a message for them nonetheless.  Do you know what it read?”

                “Repent?”  Suggested Mother Superior.

                “Fooled you!”  Gerry said.

                “No.”  Ahrottl twirled her whiskers mysteriously and shook her head.  “No.  It read, ‘I hope that you were able to find the Red Key.’

                “Immediately, they panicked, because the massive stone doors were locked with a very complex mechanism requiring a very specific implement to open.  They cast around, searching the bodies of the workers, and went back through the mostly-disarmed traps to the tomb, searching there.  Treasures they found a-plenty, but not a single key, nothing that would fit the lock, or the mechanism.

                “That didn’t stop them from trying anything that they thought might fit in the keyhole.  Scepters, wands, platinum toothpicks, and even fingerbones from the poor dead laborers.  Nothing worked.

                “’I think that we might be able to remove the mechanism if we worked together, Shahrrtl.  If we both braced against those gears and tried to spring them we might be able to pop the lock out.  It’d be hard to move the doors after but we have rope and a harness.  We could do it.’  However, Shahrrtl was looking at him strangely.

                “’Are you sure that you didn’t find the key, Vettreg?’ Shahrrtl asked him.  ‘What was it you swallowed back there?’

                “’Why, some fish jerky and old sauce, nothing but that.  Why?’

                “’Because it makes too much sense.  You think yourself clever, don’t you?’

                “’No.’ Vettreg replied, quite honestly.

                “’No, you really think you are.  Swallow the key, hide it, and then try to have me kill myself on a spring or a trap.  Well, I’ll have none of that.  Vomit up that key!’  Shahrrtl roared at him.

                “They argued back and forth, and eventually, fought.  They rolled back and forth across the floor of the tomb, cracking mummies and breaking their mugs, tearing at each other.  Finally they ended up lodged against the front door.  Shahrattl had taken a ceremonial dagger of the finest Thrathumm ivory, trying  to disembowel Vettreg while Vettreg clawed desperately at Shahrattl’s throat, trying to get him to stop. 

“Then, to both of their surprise, the mechanism began to work.  Blood from their many wounds had splashed upwards and all around, and most importantly, into the vertical keyhole for the doors, set in the floor before them.  The doors moved open with a mighty groan, slowly and ponderously, as Shahrattl’s life came pumping out his throat and Vettreg’s faded slightly more slowly.

“Some travelers,  merchants from Tahr who were heading to the nearby town of Uthrril heard the sound and headed off-road to see what was causing it, and found the two of them splayed across the door, that terrible door opened by the Red Key, Shahrattl already dead and Vettreg very close to, and he relayed their tale.  Among those merchants were my great-to-the-twenty-second uncle Rresk’s cousin, Turrtkee, and he heard the tale as it came from Vettreg’s lips, and they saw, they all saw, the gate that had been opened by the Red Key.”

Ahrottl gave a shuddering sigh and managed to squeeze her eyes shut.  Alone.  In space.  So far away from any solid world that she knew that she might as well be in another universe.  Her only friends aliens and their strange computer programs.  In an abattoir floating in the ether, filled with dead creatures.

Confronted by the Gates of the Red Key, for lying across the outer door of the airlock that had just opened were two of the humanoid figures, so like Vessels or humans, locked in place where they had died.  One had blades affixed to the back of its hand by what looked like a molded plastic grip, three ugly, sharp, curved blades like the talons of a beast, stained brown with rusty hemoglobin-bearing fluid.  That one’s stomach was open, and a twisted mass of viscera floated, slightly free, from its open abdominal cavity.  The other lay sprawled back against the wall, bearing a knife that looked like it had been made for cutting meat and had indeed succeeded in its purpose, its head thrown back on a neck so savagely torn it was hard to tell where it began or ended.

The inside of the lock was rust brown, every surface covered with spray but for a spot or two that just served to highlight the completeness of this vile and violent aspersion.  Small lumps of dried circulatory fluid floated in the air of the locks, casually, blood droplets that hung in mid-spray, long since dried.

The silence was deafening, the emptiness so vast, the world she knew so distant, and yet here, in this nothing, she was being confronted by an image from her own ancestor’s past, a hideous tableau that she knew intimately, stories of which had kept her awake as a kit.

“The Red Key…” she murmured as she floated, curled into a ball, eyes closed, the only world she acknowledged being the one inside her own head.  “The Red Key…”

Jump forward to Full-Throttle Ahrottl Chapter 8

Full-Throttle Ahrottl Chapter Links Page

Featured Species - The Awakeners

Name: The Awakeners

Appearance:

            In their original state, the Awakeners are small clumps of fungal matter, usually white with grey and black spots.  Long rhizomes sprout from the mass with thin webs of slime between them, giving an almost winged appearance.

           

Due to their unique biology it is unusual to see an Awakener without a host.  In most cases the host is a Vessel, a member of a race that the Awakeners claim to have engineered for this purpose alone.  Vessels are mostly-hairless pallid primates who bear a casual resemblance to humans and Zig.  Their overlarge eyes and proportionately small mouth and nose have earned them the nickname “Kewpies” among humans.  Their bodies are soft and lack significant musculature.  Occasionally members of other races will choose to host an Awakener, most notably members of the Great Family and humans.

           

            A being playing host to an Awakener begins to show highly visible signs within a standard Terran day.  Its outer integument becomes covered in a thin slime and white tendrils spread outward from its orifices. 

History:

            The Awakeners developed on a world with conditions very similar to that of Terra.  Being that the Awakeners’ concept of history is difficult for members of other races to comprehend, general understanding of their ancient past is a bit uncertain.  From what they have informed the Collective and from genetic examination, a rough picture of their development can be drawn, however.

            Whatever incident it was that caused the fungal colonies that the Awakeners are descended from to act as neural networks is completely shrouded in the past; a lot of theories have been raised and more will certainly present themselves over time.  The psychic abilities that they posses very soon after reaching full development (and often begin to practice before) allowed them to explore their environment in a unique way, through the perception of other creatures.  This became such a common practice that they adapted to physically interweaving themselves with their hosts, benefiting from the host’s size and ability to gather nutrients and benefiting the host by warning it of unseen dangers and psychically driving predators away.

            Due to the fact that possession of a life form with a lower mode of cognition is exhausting to their kind, what followed was a long phase of exploration of personal and individual identity.  Chained to the needs of the beasts that they possessed their society, such as it was, became not unlike the feudal human model (without the same concepts of inheritance).  Eventually, they became aware of a species that would allow them to maintain some clarity of thought and were capable of more finesse in environmental manipulation than others.  This species was bred carefully and refined, eventually becoming what today are known as Vessels.

            What followed was a period of philosophical and physical expansion.  Through chance meetings with other sentient species, the Awakeners soon realized that they had the capability of exciting psychic development in sentient beings that they choose as hosts.  This was where the most modern version of their concept of the Awakening originated: All beings capable of thought and self-awareness are capable of interacting on a purely mental level.  If every such mind in the galaxy or cosmos could be awakened to these possibilities, the strictures of physical existence would become less and less important to them, and a form of transcendence would be achieved on a galactic or universal level.  The actual practical description of this transcendence varies greatly; most of the sectarian lines in the race are drawn on the borders of interpretation.

            Some Awakener sects left their homeworld and known space behind in search of places where they could form their own colonies and practice their disparate philosophies.  One such colony was the one that the Zig encountered in the First Contact incident on Menelaus 4.  The Awakeners of this world were of a Sect that called themselves the Endless Spores of Enlightenment.  They were shunned by other Awakeners for their expansionistic beliefs, namely that the Awakening should be spread through memetic contagion, or in more plain terms, infectious mental disease.  After arriving at the world they destroyed their form of transport and left their Vessels to perish without their guidance in an effort to separate themselves from their past.  It was due to their intense introspection and lack of sophisticated instruments and that they failed to notice the presence of the Zig colonists until their ecosystem had already begun to suffer severe environmental damage from the thallium and gold poisoning that is part and parcel of Zig terraforming.

            The Endless Spores of Enlightenment perceived this invasion as a golden opportunity to test their contagious memes on sentient subjects.  The experiments were considered a failure, as the memes were not well calibrated to the Zig psyche and rather than becoming psychically active, sane, rational, and agreeable they became violent, psychotic, and paranoid.  Worse still for the Spores, there were no other sentient tool users to control the Zig equipment, which remained efficient in its unsupervised operation.  The Endless Spores, somewhat recanting their hermitage, called out with their minds across the depths of space to the colonies of Awakeners that they had left behind, begging for aid.

            A Zig ship arrived first, however.  It had been responding to a beacon triggered by equipment failsafes failing to be reset.   The crew landed, and found the staff of the facility in a maddened state, and fearing contagion returned quickly to their planet of origin, where they underwent thorough but ultimately insufficient quarantining procedures.  The psychic disease spread with a dangerous ease, prompting a full Collective investigative effort to be launched to the fallen colony world.  The Collective team included a Hrotata psychic, who, in a manner typical to their race attempted communication with the alien entities that it sensed, and succeeded.  The Awakener ships arrived not long afterwards in response to the cries for help from the Spores and introduced themselves as representatives of the largest governing body of their race.

            The Awakeners showed great interest in the Collective, it being the first cooperative venture among sentient species that they had yet encountered.  Likewise, certain members of the Collective showed great interest in testing the promises of the Awakeners: their ability to awaken psychic abilities in others, their general facility with telepathic communication, and their claim of being able to glean information from the minds of the dead.  The Mauraug and Zig, the former horrified by the prospect and the latter still suffering from seemingly incurable psychic wounds, stood firmly against their joining, but the Great Family, the Humans, the Ningyo, and the Tesetsi convinced their delegates to finally agree after subjecting the Awakeners to stringent membership conditions.  In addition to the already severe laws regulating the use of telepathy, Awakener colonies found to be possessing a sentient member of the Collective without their consent would be hunted and executed without possibility of mercy.  The Awakeners assured the assembly that this would present no problem, and thus ensured their role in the Collective.

            Since joining the Collective, other colonies of Awakeners of different Sects have been encountered.  The choice presented to them by the Collective is to either to join the dominant Awakener Sect or remain entirely aloof from Collective affairs and absent from space that they hold.  The Awakeners with the Collective understand the reasons behind it but do occasionally protest what to them is an offense to freedom.

            The Hrotata, Humans, and Ningyo have been the closest allies to the Awakeners in recent years.  Many Hrotata and not a few Humans eagerly embrace the Awakening.   The Awakeners themselves are leery of the Ningyo, as they are the only sentient species with whom they cannot interface psychically (although they are aware of Ningyo telepathy), which suits the enigmatic Ningyo just fine.  It has been suggested that the Ningyo see in the Awakeners kindred spirits in strangeness, the only companions in this galactic civilization that are as unlike the others as they are.

Native Technology:

            Telepathy.  The Awakeners have telepathic techniques that far outstrip the meager practices of the other races.  They are capable of creating animas, units of pure thought that act as independent telepathic entities, which they use for surveillance and exploration.  They can create memes that spread and disseminate information quickly among minds through the use of simple triggers.  They claim to be able to read the psychic resonance of beings long-dead while within some proximity of their remains or the physical location of their death, a feat which to the Mauraug is unhallowed necromancy.  Of course, they are also able to Awaken the minds of (almost all) sentient beings, bringing them into full psychic awareness and preparing them for the training of their newfound capabilities.

Biology:

            The Awakeners are each an individual fungal colony, carbon-based and highly complex.  In general they resemble Terran slime molds and many other varieties of galactic fungus; a small gelid mass composed of a single colony of cells, greenish-grey in color and with a volume of roughly 100cc.  Long white filaments are anchored within the central mass and aid the colony in mobility and physical sensory perception.

            Of greatest interest to xenobiologists is the fact that the largely homogonous structure of the mold is composed of cells roughly analogous to cerebral nerves.  Due to the fact that the creature is of a gelatinous consistency, ‘neural’ pathways are temporary and can reform easily whenever necessary.  The mechanism behind this is still not fully understood, even by Tesetsi researchers.

            Awakeners reproduce sexually, though each colony contains reproductive cells of both sexes.  When Awakeners fertilize each other, they become temporarily immobile as they form translucent bioluminescent pyramidal fruiting bodies in which the spores develop.  The spores are released after a period of ten days as the fruiting body collapses, releasing the liquid stored within, and the Awakener reabsorbs the membrane that held its structure.  Although thousands of spores are released with each mating, Awakeners are delicate organisms, especially in their developmental stage, ensuring that only a few manage to grow to a size wherein they would achieve sentience.  Outside of hospitable worlds with very specific characteristics, Awakeners must reproduce in a controlled environment if they wish to have any hope of their offspring maturing.

Culture:

            The Awakeners have stated that they all have a deep, driving need to attempt to Awaken other sentient minds to psychic awareness.  This statement has raised a lot of curiosity as there is no biological basis for this need, and no marked physical benefit other than the production of hormones related to stress-release, which are produced by most positive stimuli.  Whatever the origin of this drive, it defines Awakener culture.

            Since the early Awakeners listened to the songs of distant minds from across interstellar gulfs, they have felt the urge to communicate with them.  The minds that they heard were by and large unaware of them.  Great debates raged among them as to what should be done about their inability to communicate with these other sentiences, proof that they were not alone in the galaxy.

            Some claimed to have Awakened beings from across galactic space (which has lead members of other races to attribute such Awakenings to prophets, psychics, and famous madmen) but most did not seem to have that capability, and it was a difficult one to test.  Star travel was developed by their race as a method of reaching out to these other beings.  The Awakener Sects began to take their modern shape during this period, as individual colonies are groups differed in opinion on the method of Awakening.

            Awakener Sects belong to a broad spectrum of ideas.  The term “Awakener” is actually a shortened form of a title for the primary Sect that has found allegiance with the Collective, although it has many sub Sects.  In addition, there are other minor Sects that are aligned with the Awakeners that are also part of the coalition that supports the Collective.  Most of their Sects are welcome to join, with the exception of those such as the Expanded Galactic Canalization Colonies who believe in direct domination of ‘lesser’ minds to guide them by force to the Great Awakening, and the aforementioned Endless Spores of Enlightenment.

            Awakeners in general have little interest in material goods outside of subsistence and those which aid in further exploration.  Clothing for their Vessels is strictly functional, and physical forms of artwork are unheard of.  Awakener art has been described as psychic orchestra, complex waves of feeling and information, intricate tides of simulated sensory input and codas of sublime sensation.  Just as any direct communication with an Awakener can be uncomfortable or even traumatic to most unprepared minds, an Awakener symphony is not something to be experienced by the unenlightened.

            Awakeners that have bonded to a sentient host may break any and all of the above rules.  This can produce great psychological changes in the Awakener.  Marty Sam Fitzpatrick, an Awakener who developed a ‘human’ identity after bonding with a human for five years, explained this way, “Using a Vessel is like looking at something through a microscope.  You need to see something that you can’t ordinarily interact with, so you get a ‘scope to look at it, and make sure that you poke it right.  Bonding with Martin was like actually living on that microscope slide, actually being there.  It’s the difference between ‘being’ and ‘becoming’.  I still use a Vessel now, sure.  I may have Awakened Marty to his psychic potential, but he gave me a view and understanding of the universe that I cannot even begin to explain to other colonies that haven’t bonded.  You’d think that I could, since we can share experiences, but they never feel it.   Awakening is a two-way street.”  Although this is primarily true of those who have bonded, just the experience of living in a Vessel among members of other races can produce similar epiphanies and changes in behavior.  Given this, Awakeners who have succeeded in Awakening another sentient are the ones most likely to be chosen for roles as diplomats to other races, and are highly valued for Collective missions.

            Given the fear of the threat that other races assume that the Awakeners represent due to their ability to directly dominate the minds of others, not many are willing to take them up on their offer.  Thus Awakeners create missions on alien worlds where it is allowed.  They proselytize vocally, encouraging others to join in the vast web of self-aware consciousness in an active role. 

The Hrotata and other members of the Great Family have shown the greatest interest in bonding, although even the vegetative Awakeners occasionally grow frustrated with the Hrotatas’ flightiness.  They have expressed that bonding with Taratumm is quite difficult, though possible; a gentle touch with great finesse is required.  Several permanently insane Taratumm and dead Awakener colonies attest to this.  Vislin on the other hand make excellent bonding partners, but usually require that the Awakener prove itself to their pack before agreeing to bond with it.  The Awakeners claim that their much-vaunted pack tactics and mentality are in fact a very basic psychic connection that they learn to create as infants, and that this serves as an excellent starting point for greater development.  Humans are the next most likely to volunteer for Awakening, and have expressed frustration that this process cannot be extended to their AIs.  Some few Tesetsi have engaged in the process out of scientific curiosity, more than anything else, but their brethren seem to find something amiss with them once the process is complete, and these Tesetsi are even less likely to be found in the company of others of their own race.  Ningyo are not capable of serving as hosts, their biology being far too alien for even an adaptable fungus.  Nonetheless they seem to enjoy the company of the Awakeners, and occasionally even taunt them as they do other sentient races.  The Zig heavy metal composition is deadly to the Awakeners, and no attempts have been made to find a workaround.  The Zig have not forgotten the psychic plagues inflicted on their kind by the Spores, and the disastrous First Contact incident is still very fresh in their long, calculating memories.

As for the Mauraug, no devout Mauraug of the Collective would bond with one of these creatures.  Awakeners or sentients hosting them are not allowed to even disembark on most Mauraug controlled worlds, except in emergencies, and even then only in the company of a trained Inquisitor.  It is possible that some of the more itinerant Mauraug have made such a compact in secret.  Certainly finding a willing Awakener would be no difficulty, and if they remain away from Covenant worlds they have little to fear from Inquisitors.  There have even been rumors of renegade Sects being sought out by the Mauraug Apostasy.

When Awakeners gather amongst themselves they psychically share their experiences, in a process they call “Nurturing”. They will occasionally hide certain experiences from one another for personal reasons, and such privacy is tolerated to a limited degree.  An Awakener who does not participate in Nurturing or who regularly edits large potions of its experiences will not typically be looked at as devious but rather unhealthy.  If this persists the other colonies will attempt to force the Nurturing upon it.  Psychically aware members of other races who witness it have compared the experience to kidnapping and rape, but the Awakeners consider it a natural, instinctive nurturing behavior, causing serious headaches for the Sentients’ Rights Councils of many planets.

Psychology:

            An Awakener is at all times aware of the other Awakened and otherwise psychically aware minds around it.  The other Awakened minds, especially those of other colonies, are in constant low level contact with one another.  Self awareness took the Awakeners a long time to develop, evolving in such a mental environment.  They do not possess the level of ego that many other sapient beings do. 

S.C.A.P.E. Goats - Chapter 4

Jump back to S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter 3 

                The small ship ran close to silently, the only noises it produced being the occasional dings and beeps of system updates.  The pilot, a tall, lean, bald human with very pronounced bone structure and an engineer’s uniform, sat at the helm, quieter even than the ship, moving only occasionally to make adjustments.

                Mary watched the other occupant of the ship, a tall woman with dark skin and pale golden hair as she flipped through screens of information.  Her frame was likewise lean, her neck long as long and graceful as her arms, her movements deft and confident.  Her uniform had the blue trim of the Research Corp, and the chevrons she had displayed earlier marked her as being Journeyman First Class.

                The open ports in the front of the ship displayed the yellowish sun, larger than a large star at this distance but still small and unimpressive, and a large gas giant with an impressive multitier ring structure towards the right.  The rings were their destination, though in truth that was only part of the purpose of their expedition.

                At length Althea turned around and sat down on the swivel chair that she had been ignoring, across from Mary.  Her nose was small, her lips thin, and her eyes seemed downcast at the outer corners, giving her an almost sorrowful look, or so Mary thought.  She examined Mary’s face again as though it was her first time meeting her and nodded gently towards her.

                Mary frowned, then raised her eyebrows expectantly.  They were quiet like this for a moment, the three of them, and then Althea broke the silence.

                “We’re in a safe place to discuss what I brought you here to discuss, Mary.  There are no recording devices currently working in the Cabin, and Davis won’t repeat anything he hears, will you, Davis?”

                The pilot shook his head distractedly.

                Mary nodded, feeling a little awkward.  “What did you want to discuss?”

                Althea raised an eyebrow and her lips quirked into a brief smile.  “What do you think?  Larry told you to wait after your assignment was complete.  He told you that you’d be contacted, am I right?”

                Mary frowned.  “Larry?”

                Althea laughed.  “He never told you his name?”  She shook her head.  “Larry, Larry, Larry.  We only put up with him because we need him.  We especially need him in the position he is in.  He works as a bartender?  He asked you to kill a SCAPE agent?”

                Mary stiffened and looked around reflexively.  Not like there’s anywhere to go, she thought.  “I’m sorry… what are you talking about?”

                “It’s okay to talk about it, Mary.  I work with Larry.  So does Davis.  We’re all part of the same concern.  Consider this your interview.”

                Mary frowned again.  “But you’re not wearing…”  She trailed off.

                Althea frowned right along with her, looking genuinely puzzled.  “Wearing what?”

                Mary held up her hand.  When Althea just shook her head, still looking confused, Mary said, “The ring?”

                Althea’s confusion dissolved and was replaced with a look of amused comprehension.  “Oh, the ring, right.  That’s not… that’s not a badge or something.  Hmmm, how do I explain?”  She tapped her fingers against her knee, looking up for a moment.  “The ring that he wears, he showed it to you when he was first recruiting you, right?  It’s there in case someone spots someone like you, someone who needs help.  Then we can tell them, ‘Go to this bar and talk to the bartender with this ring.’  We don’t all wear some signature thing.  People would spot it!  No, it’s Larry’s ring, we just tell people to look for it if we think that they’re good candidates.”

                “But Larry said that I would earn one if I joined.”  Mary said, puzzled.

                Althea rolled her eyes.  “Larry says a whole lot of things that aren’t right.  I think maybe I need to set things straight for you, no?”  Mary did not object, and Althea continued.  “We are a group, a concern, a private guild if you will, for psychics who do not want to deal with SCAPE.  We help people escape the Strainers, or live privately, and help them learn how to hide their gifts and use them in subtle ways.

                “You were given a rather grievous test to pass to enter, no?  Part of the test was whether you would do it.  The other part was how.  We know that you did not kill Rell, just his shell.  We know that that was deliberate.  It could not have been otherwise; everyone knows that Awakeners tend to keep their mass in the head and chest cavities of their Vessels.  Even if you did not, Larry made sure that you knew how to kill him, yes?  Of course he did.”

                Althea looked expectant.  Mary cleared her throat.  “So, why did you bring me out here?”

                “As I said, this is an interview.  My position in our organization is one of responsibility.  Davis and I have the opportunity to watch you in close quarters, and to let you know about us and answer any questions that you might have.”

                “All right.”  Mary pondered for a moment.  “Well, what do you call yourselves?”

                “Nothing.”  Althea gave an almost mischievous grin.  “We have no name for our group.  A name, like a badge, can be traced.  We have no identity, no strict structure, and very few hard and fast rules.  Many of us come to think of our group with a certain name, but that would just throw the Strainers off more, if they find and question one of us.  So far, this has not happened.”

                “Well, that’s good.”  Mary said, feeling lame.  “What will I be doing if I join?”

                “Well, you will be yourself and do what you want to do.  You will learn tricks from me, from Davis, maybe from Larry and the others to protect what is inside your mind and keep yourself from getting into trouble.  Maybe we will ask you for help with one of our projects, or to help watch out backs, and maybe you will say yes or no.  Unless it has to do with a threat to our organization, there is nothing compulsory.

                “You will keep an eye out for others and refer them to Larry, or to someone else if you decide to move away.  I have connections in both the Collective and our network, I can get you reassigned if you need.  You’ll keep an eye on the Strainers and the Awakeners, and let us know if you see them doing anything unusual.”

                “The Awakeners?”  Mary asked.  “Do we have any Awakeners in our group?”

                Althea shook her head and Davis made an odd clicking noise with his tongue.  “No,” Althea said.  “No Awakeners, no non-humans.  Other species have other rules.  The Zig, they have some psychics, but they don’t have a problem with SCAPE; their laws regarding the use of psi are the basis for a lot of the Collective and the Society’s regulations anyway.  The Mauraug might make good allies, but we can’t trust them, and if their Inquisition ever found out about us it would threaten all of humanity.  The Great Family is insular; I bet there are a dozen groups like ours among them.  They watch out for their own interests.  The Tesetsi , well, they don’t tend to care about psi all that much.  If you haven’t heard, the Ningyo have psi, but we can’t communicate with them, nor they with us – they are very, very different.  As for the Awakeners, they are hiding something.  Something ugly.  You’ll learn more as we go, hopefully.  Maybe you can help us figure it out.

                “So no, we are just humans.  We are all right with this; other species have their own problems and their own solutions.”

                “What is it that the Awakeners are hiding?”

                Althea shrugged.  “We don’t know for certain, yet.  All we know is that the more we explore the outskirts of their space, the more strange things happen.  People losing memories, acting strangely, even sometimes disappearing.  Psychic signatures changing and things like that.  We believe that there is something that they are hiding from the rest of the Collective.  And since Lotus Station is being constructed on the edge of their territory, it’s a prime observation post.  We aren’t all altruistic, but we do want to watch out for our own kind, no?”

                Mary sighed back into her chair and considered what Althea had just said.  Althea, for her part, just waited patiently.

                “What about SCAPE?  Why should we hide from them?”

                Davis made the odd clicking sound again and Althea laughed incredulously.  “Look, little sister, I was a SCAPE agent a decade ago.  No longer; don’t worry, but you have no idea the amount of trouble that I had to go through to escape from them.   Suffice it to say that you would not even come close to recognizing me from those days, not at all.  These laws that the Collective makes – even in places run under Generic Law, there are very specific bylaws and rules about psi usage.  Just because anyone can develop psi doesn’t mean that everyone can be good at it, and it’s hard for a lot of people.  A lot of people are scared; they want their thoughts to be private and their actions to be their own.  I cannot blame them, can you?

                “Ignorance of the law is no excuse.  As a SCAPE officer I was involved in the apprehension and punishment of too many, way too many people who were doing no harm with their abilities.  The law is not forgiving when it comes to mind-crime; it is very draconian.  I was tired of hurting children who did not know better, or hurting people who were not causing trouble.  Many members of the Society become bitter, distant, or cold.  Many psychics do in general, because of all of the garbage that they see and experience in the minds of others.  Larry was not always as he is now.  Perhaps he was never an angel, but the things that he has experienced and seen have colored him with a darker palette.

                “The Society exists to protect average people from having to think about psychics.  They achieve this goal through cruelty and manipulation.  I hesitate to call them traitors, but they allow themselves to be complicit in harming people just like themselves.”  As Althea spoke, she grew more impassioned, her eyes widening, the cadence of her speech falling into a different pattern and her pronunciation sliding into a different accent.  Mary took careful note of this and said:

                “You sound like a revolutionary or an activist.”

                Althea sat up straight in her chair, a cold gleam filling her eyes.  “Yes, Mary, I am.  Others join our group to protect themselves.  I joined to help.  Our people need help; what is being done now is not right.  The Society will blind the Collective to many dangers and resources in the name of maintaining a comfortable ignorance for its majority.”  Her expression warmed briefly and then fell, reminding Mary of a tragedy mask for a moment.  “It is only causing harm, and someday it may cause doom.  I cannot sit by and let this happen.  You do what your conscience calls you to, even if it is nothing; I will not judge you.  But my conscience says that we must act, that we must change things, before they are changed for us.”

                The ship was silent again for a few minutes.  Althea seemed lost in painful memories and Mary was absorbing and trying carefully not to think about certain things.  Davis might as well have been part of the ship.

                That thought made Mary raise her head again.  “Althea?  What’s the deal with Davis?  No offense, Davis, but you haven’t said anything.”

                Davis didn’t respond, but scowled a bit, making the clicking sound again, but more faintly.  Althea said.  “Davis is a blocker.  That’s where his talents lie.  He is good at not listening to what he hears, and he is good at keeping his mind shut as well as his mouth.  If you need his help, by all means go to him, he will not ignore you.  But he will ignore things if you ask him to, and sometimes it is very helpful to know someone who is good at ignoring things.  And he does talk, doesn’t he?”

                Davis turned around and gave an almost-sheepish grin.  “Yeah.”  He said, and turned back to his panel.

                “I guess that I don’t have any other questions right now.  I’m still kind of absorbing.  Wait, what about the test?  Shooting the Strainer?”

                Althea nodded.  “Yes, we discussed that.”

                “But you said that I passed?”

                “Yes, you passed.  And by the fact that you tried not to kill Rell, we know the sorts of things that you are, and are not, willing to do.  And that’s okay.  I wouldn’t have either.”  She seemed very matter-of-fact about this.  Mary shrugged.

                “So what if I was to say that I didn’t want to join now?”

                Althea took a deep breath and looked grim.  Davis made the clicking sound again.  What the heck is up with that?  Mary wondered.

                “Mary, you know too much for us to just let you go out and be caught by SCAPE.  We would need to make sure to do things, things that would ensure that you did not talk about this to anyone – or know about it.”

                “You’d kill me?”

                Althea tossed her head back and groaned.  “No, Mary, if you disappeared that would be no end of trouble.  Also, I don’t like killing.  We would just have to make sure that you wouldn’t remember anything of import.  We can do that, I know that they say that it’s not possible, but believe me, we can.”

                Mary contemplated this, and reached out gently, feeling for the emotional signatures of the others on the ship.  Althea was there, and she felt the tang of curiosity but little else from her.  Davis may as well have not been there.  He was, for all intents and purposes, psychically invisible.

                “I know that it’s a lot to absorb.  We have three days to talk about it in safe space.”  Althea gestured around her.  “When we return to Lotus Station it will be a bit more difficult; I cannot get you assigned to work for me too often without arousing notice if not suspicion.  We have ways to relay messages safely, places that we frequent at certain times.  It can be a lot to keep track of, to be honest, but having this freedom and safety is worth it.  Trust me.

                “Part of the reason that I have the position among us that I do is that I am good at predicting.  You know how stories and legends speak of people reading the future?  I don’t read the future, but I do know how to submerge myself in the thought streams and perceptions of those around me and notice bigger trends.  Things that many people notice but don’t think much become obvious to me.  From this, I know that you will be a benefit to our organization.”

                Very suddenly, Mary felt the pressure of direct contact from Althea.  <<Even though I know that you are not who you say you are.>>  The pressure withdrew as quickly as it had come, and Mary shifted, trying to warm herself against the sudden chill she felt.

                Mary nodded again, still considering.  “Can you teach me to do what Davis does?”

                Davis spoke again, for the second time since they met eight hours ago.  She was so unused to his voice that it made her jump.  “She can’t.  I can.  And I will.”

Jump forward to S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter 5

S.C.A.P.E. Goats Chapter Links Page