Earth Space Union's Alien Asset Files: #1 - Private Capal

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The plan for how to search for Larimak began by nosing around in The Brigands' business.

Dawson once expressed that he was surprised that humanity hadn't come across any space pirates, but that was because he didn't know where to look. The Brigands were a loose paramilitary group that operated in the vast spaces in between far-flung settled planets; they brought terror to travelers in the early days of The Alliance. After The Recall, these outlaws ironically became the most active source of cooperation between the Vascar, the Girret, and the Derandi. That made them a threat to the conventional powers.

With prime recruits and draftees running away to the Brigands' ranks instead, the old Alliance's powers-that-be chose a rare act of solidarity. They approached the raiders and struck a deal to pay tribute. Our coffers would fund their settlements and lifestyle, and authorities would leave them be. In exchange, they wouldn't attack our ships and would offer their protection from other marauders. With their eyes and ears everywhere, space lanes became safer than ever.

If anyone noticed what hole Larimak crawled off to, it would be the Brigands; they must've been monitoring the Space Gate battle and seen something. They could've followed Larimak. Or, my theory imagining what I would do if I was a bloodthirsty maniac…he could've joined the Brigands. A great place to hide.

Dawson had taken to a Girret deck-building game called noru, which allowed for the inclusion of two custom cards that could spread a certain amount of points around categories, along with the twelve standard. Representative Redge was studying the stone-faced human, as they both weighed what to play in second round of the Dueling Phase—each round pitted one card against another. Later rounds were called the Battle Phase, allowing for combinations to be played.

There was strategy involved, deciding whether to play the best cards in the 1v1 faceoff or to stack a squad. If the player was trying to curbstomp their opponent with their top fighter, they'd have to choose which dueling round to put them up in. Defensive cards were mixed in the deck, which would lose to any fighter that wasn't Mirage rated (the highest tier. It was a complicated and ancient game. I wasn't sure this was a fair fight when Dawson had precog on his side, to predict what Redge was going to pick, but I didn't spoil their budding friendship.

"So Representative Redge," Dawson began, placing a card down on the table. "There's something that isn't adding up. You're the leader of your entire fucking planet. How can you just leave? You seem important enough that you should go back home, not try to take over a pirate's camp."

Redge swayed his head in thought, the overhead lights reflecting off the diamond patterns on his purple scales. "You do not understand Girret culture. The mantle of leadership means much more than it would to the Vascar, or even to the…well-meaning Derandi prime minister. When there's a crisis, we're expected to be in the thick of it. To go down with the caravan we helmed."

"You have duties of governance, surely, that'll be missed. Someone as high up as you would help more at home. I mean, you can't even contact Doros for fear the Elusians'll find us! Isn't that a huge disruption to your society?"

"I will not return to Doros until I have a solution to finish the project I herded the people into aiding. Whether Larimak is hiding out with pirates or somewhere more reclusive, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we do the same. Girret leaders are expected to lead, to show strength as an example to the people. I do this for my legacy. Contest."

"Contest." Dawson flipped his card at the same time as Redge, revealing that both parties had used a defensive specialist. It figured that the frightful human took a conservative strategy, but unfortunately for him, this outcome meant that no more defensive cards could be played for the rest of the game. "You knew I'd play the honor guard, didn't you?"

"Perhaps. None of us can be allowed the luxury of playing afraid now, Mr. Fields."

"I just don't understand you! You're the highest-ranking official on your planet, and you're slumming it here. And speaking of honor guards, where the fuck are yours?"

"I ordered them to leave during the attack, and to protect the civilians instead—I saw the human scientists collapsing, and was hopeful my people could render medical aid. The honor guard do not just guard me. They represent me."

"I told you we were trying to help you, Dawson," I interjected, recalling how he'd fallen into my arms and begged for us to save them. "I haven't known many, or really any Girrets, but their valor is the stuff of legend. What Redge had to do to prove himself would make your eyes pop."

Dawson arched a brow, abandoning the card game. "Really? I didn't take you for much when I first saw Preston and Sofia landing on Doros; you seemed like another schmuck who was very concerned about reelection. What's your story, Redge?"

The Girret's tongue flitted out in annoyance. "It's nothing. I recognize that I can't have any of what I want if I go…too against the sands with the people. The impression I leave lets me keep my license to protect them, though that may sound silly to you."

"Surely you like the power and authority," a skeptical Jetti said, earning a nod of agreement from a scowling Ficrae.

"The hollow-boned featherwalker is correct," the android grumbled. "Organics like the sound of others groveling, believing in their superiority and their right to dominate. This is why Servitors were created."

"I wouldn't go to that extreme; the Girret have been good friends to the Derandi, sharing our values and coexisting in equal partnership. They don't show a will to dominate. But Redge, you must like the respect and…just being at the top. Your story is not nothing."

Redge narrowed his eyes. "If I attempt to maintain humility, I assume you will tell them anyway, Jetti?"

"I've talked about your heroism as a Storm Rider to Hirri, in his bedtime stories. It's the rare topic that's appropriate for a young chick, who would love to hear it from your mouth."

"You covered enough. There are cyclical dust storms on Doros once every four years. I was a Storm Rider, rescuing people. I did my job."

"You undersell yourself, as well as the difficulty of that job! Even with gear, you were completely blinded, navigating dangerous terrain and cities that you don't know at all! You participated in thousands of rescues—the highest in Storm Rider history—circumnavigating your planet tirelessly!"

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Redge blinked in irritation. "Most of these rescues were mundane. Girret buildings are proofed for these events, but when it gets inside, people can have trouble breathing and require medical attention. Storm Riders bring them to the hospital and can provide immediate treatment. We'd also bring supplies so the populace didn't leave their house."

"I know the stories you could tell, Redge. Finding lost children, digging through collapsed buildings, running into raging infernos that consumed city blocks, or serving as first responders to accident scenes for those who got on the roads and didn't heed the shelter-in-place advisories! You took the missions others wouldn't."

"I did my job. I shouldn't receive praise because they did not."

I laughed with incredulity. "When your job is that crazy, I'd say you should. Maybe you're the one we ought to call 'the Insane,' not our dear Prince Larimak."

"You're a riot, man," Dawson agreed. "We've got a bonafide hero in our midst. Like, I'm sorry to disappoint because I know I've got superpowers, but I'm not that. I don't know how you stuck your neck out there time after time."

"Because Redge is a hero, a protector of children like my beautiful son—but not reckless the way certain dimension hoppers were!" Jetti flapped her wings in a rare display of open excitement. "He would never take chances with his people. For all of his courage, he chooses to keep the peace—and to keep his people out of harm. The perfect leader, in my eyes. He should lead this mission, not Capal."

"I disagree; I should lead this team. I do not grasp how Redge saving other lowly organics from the consequences of their incompetent building abilities and infirmity to natural elements, makes him more trustworthy, or is of value to us now," Ficrae remarked. "These Brigands—wild organics who do not kid themselves about their animal nature—are not going to help with the Elusians either."

I swept my mane back with a paw. "You can't say that with certainty, when you have no data on the Brigands. At worst, their information will give us an update on what's happening throughout Caelum, with the humans gone. It's our only way of doing that, without contacting home."

"How exactly do you plan to acquire this information from The Brigands? All contextual data on this organization suggests they will react to your incursion with violence, since the agreement with your people is to keep your distance. No one will believe that Redge the Insane is planning to join them."

"We have a Sol spaceship. We blast our way through the greeting party and storm their facility until they surrender."

"Humanity may have radical durability, but their materials and individuals are not invincible. Larimak's Fireball missiles were able to take out their vessels. Assuming they witnessed the Space Gate battle and that the possibility of Larimak joining their ranks is correct, they would know this."

I threw up my paws in exasperation. "What do you suggest, then?"

"We use the negative energy equipment and samples we brought on board this vessel, and warp straight into the heart of their compound," Redge interjected, an undeniable shrewdness in his eyes. "In ground combat, Dawson can run right through them; especially when they're unprepared."

"What? I just said I'm not a hero!" Dawson held up his hands, brown eyes wide. For how apocalyptical a human's physical capabilities were, their plump skin looked so frail that it was easy to forget. "I came here looking for your help, not to be your doomsday weapon. It's one thing to take Larimak with your aid, but a whole pirate camp solo? Forget about it."

"Ficrae and I will back you up. These outlaws will not be used to fighting the inorganic Vascar, though Ficrae should still wear an EMP suit to be safe."

"I will join the assault team as well," I volunteered. "Redge put it best, Dawson. None of us can be allowed the luxury of being afraid. I'm a coward by all accounts, but I believe in humanity's cause enough that I'll fight for you anyway. Since it's your people who got taken away, the question is, do you feel the same as me? Because I'd really hope so."

The human pressed his hands to his head, despair in his eyes. "I feel like life was better before we ever stepped foot in this shitty-ass dimension! This was exactly what scared the piss out of me, Capal: the punishment I could feel in the air, and see in the visions when I closed my fucking eyes. I never cared for grand causes like you. I just want reality to make sense again!"

"You think humans made sense to me when you showed up? You can't close 'Pandora's Box,' as your people say. The only way this strange new world makes sense is by figuring it out. Sol's punishment happened. You might not care about history like me or what happens after we're all dead and gone, but I know you care about the present. Help us help you."

Redge's eyes glimmered, locking onto Dawson. "To answer your earlier question, I stuck my neck out because I had something worth protecting. I'd deign to say you're from a good species, so you do too. Be strong; courage is the choice to overcome yourself. Rise to the occasion, and we may rescue all of humanity."

A sandstorm swirled in Dawson's brown irises, no doubt remembering how his counterparts had dropped like flies; he was the last human in Caelum. If anything happened to him against The Brigands, there'd be no souped up reinforcements joining our squad. There was no one else with his terrifying power to tilt the scales in our favor. Unfortunately, this particular dimension hopper had always been more worried about the dangers of his powers than enthused about using them. He felt like "less than nothing" because of his artificiality.

I thought about how Dawson had scurried off in a panic when he first noticed his precog come true, and how he expressed doubt over humanity's forays into this universe multiple times since we'd grown close. I could remember that first interview when he petrified me, so I went along with his pleas to interact with Mikri in the hopes of appeasing him…and perhaps changing his mind. Instead, it was me who had my worldview flipped upside-down. He was spot on when he told Jetti that humans had done nothing but try to help us, and I hoped I could return the favor.

It was Dawson who picked me up when I doubted myself, after my first encounter with Ficrae showed that the androids weren't so rosy. He reminded me how I was able to provide valuable insight, and how much I'd already accomplished. What was it that he said?

"'Tell you what, I won't give up on changing shit around here if you won't.' Those were your exact words. We had a deal, Dawson," I reminded the human. "When I told you nothing I said mattered, you said that it did to you. Is that true?"

The alien's eyes focused, and his jawline hardened. "Always, Capal. You've helped so much. You're…an inspiration. Shit, I'll try to help with the Brigand raid, mainly because I don't want anything to happen to you. You putting your neck on the line for us…it does mean the world to me."

"I wouldn't let you go into danger alone. That's not what 'help' means."

"Of course—and I'm sorry that I was trying to bow out. It's just, ugh, the thought of having to…fucking rip people apart with my bare hands? It makes my skin crawl, man! I don't know if I can just reach out and do that: so grisly. I think I'm gonna be sick already."

"They're criminals, if that helps at all. Look, the goal is for them to surrender, so maybe some will cooperate; we do need information. I'm sorry for making you do this. If there was any other way…"

Dawson sucked in a sharp breath. "I know. Has to be me. Let's just get kitted out and get this over with."

"I second the desire to get this over with. I wish to cooperate with you hindrances for as short a duration as possible," Ficrae scoffed.

The feeling was definitely mutual there; I hardly trusted the android, who'd choked me out in the middle of the Elusian attack, to watch my back. I turned toward the cockpit to prepare the coordinates as suggested, while Redge and Ficrae focused on readying a negative energy field generator. I then pulled gear out of my storage locker, trying to hide the shaking of my arm as I fastened a gun to my hip.

It was tough to believe that I—Capal of the Nordae Guild, a historian who wasn't a fighter at his core—would be tagging along for this raid on the Brigand compound. I hoped to the storm gods that, when the time came, Dawson would find the willpower to decimate those pirates. If not, this plan of mine might be the last one I ever made.

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