Chapter 17: Born of Wide Horizons

And it was such that in the following hours to come, a few light years from where Darin and his daring crew had laid their attack on the small forgotten outpost in the Hesik Expanse, a single solitary message began to filter through.

Five warships were dispatched to Le’telrin. By the time they responded to a distress call, the ships only picked up a momentary blip of a supposed human warship as it flew off to the great nebula of the Hesik Expanse’s dust cloud. All attempts to find the ship yielded only decoy beacons and the forgotten hope of ever catching the human marauders. What they found was a disabled Shal’rein warship and a damaged outpost.

However, the results were concluded, and the action was in motion. The message began transmitting from the various satellites. All attempts to stop it had failed. Others wondered what the purpose was in just sending a single solitary message, an entire raid just to send it. Only the absolute few could ever imagine what it was for.

At the edge of the Hesik Expanse was the watery world of Kun. Completely encased in one great ocean, the planet was a haven for all seafaring lifeforms. With the distant dust particles serving as a rearward backdrop, the great ocean comes closer into view. The star, much like Sol, provides a great blue glow to the world as countless Shal’rein transports and warships fly about, heading off to distant corners of the galaxy or protecting the planet from harm. Despite its significant contribution, much of the planet seems devoid of surface activity. The people prefer the deep ocean depths.

For the land-faring kind, there was only one landmass available, the tallest mountain that jutted from the planet’s submerged crust. It was a dry mountainous island no larger than three kilometers across, a monument to the vast volume of liquid water that perforated a single planet. Only the most unique lifeforms ever try to thrive here.

A great statue was once erected on the highest peak, a dedication to the Shal’rein who founded the world of Kun. Instead, the degraded remains only show the legs and broken tail. The maintenance is forbidden ... The rest of the statue’s upper torso lay on the ocean bottom as it finally tumbled apart from its foundations, brought down by the countless earthquakes that perforated the region. Few ever come to see this area, as the Gok’shinta Shal’rein only did one other form of action at this specific location, erecting a garrison. Fitted to the side of the mountain, the foundation is heavily reinforced. Its supports are drilled and tapped into the rock, with gun batteries and comm relays jutting from the top. An elevator rises from the watery depths to the boxy structure.

Inside the garrison, a row of basic rooms resided. Water flushed through pipes, just as the vessels and bases did. Anything made of metal gave off a rustic look. From the vast side windows, much of the great ocean could be seen from the mountainside itself. Beautiful during the day, the scenery also gives the viewer an agoraphobic, aquaphobic view, knowing there are no other landmasses beyond this point.

From what might have been considered the only lobby of the garrison, a single Shin’fo’mil Shal’rein resided, hunched over as the working display she watched was giving a hazy signal to it. As was with tradition, she wore a blue tunic that covered her legs and extremities, along with her great shark-like tail. Lacking breasts and being bald, her gill slits worked hard to convert the waterless air into something that she could breathe. Having to bear standing in prolonged condition warranted her to use her laser trident to serve as a brace, holding her body up as she sat kneeling on one leg.

Another set of Shal’rein women entered the room and sat down at one of the distant tables to speak with one another. Unlike the single Shin’fo’mil, these Shal’rein were more typical, standing upright. They were wearing uniform bikinis with black-and-purple tops that covered their breasts, and dresses that covered their lower extremities. Most had grown accustomed to the long deployment, watching over a world they cared little for. The few Helera’kun Shal’rein, the natives who were assigned to this garrison, showed little contempt for this watch, having to be removed from their ancestral waters.

Something seemed off with the operating display unit. Whether it was old or needed servicing remained in question. The native Helera’kun Itrean only sighed as she waited for the reception to clear up.

However, as she continued to observe, the feed suddenly switched over to that of the T’rintar flag. It was green, with a black triangle of green, red, and purple.

Propaganda? The Itrean woman wondered ... but how did it get through the regular broadcasts? She only sneered at what she saw. The T’rintar clan was often full of lies, at least to what she always heard of. What were they trying to do? Did it even matter? The Kun officials would soon try to cut off the feed or try to block its transmission anyway, so it probably didn’t matter...

But it didn’t happen. Nothing was shut down. Even the sloppy officials, the rookies and inexperienced, would have had the transmission cut by now. Was it a hack? How did they do it?

The flag switched over to show that of a Yutilian woman. She had light green scales, dark green scale patterns, and white feathers that protruded from her head, arms, and tail. She wore what looked like a white shawl that connected to an orange skintight suit, almost reminiscent of a thin silk poncho, along with a gold anklet on her right leg. Her smile, visible from her snout, was obvious. The strong hint of her pregnancy was apparent as she was nearing the end, as her belly pressed hard against the fabric of her clothes. Behind her, the Earth blue flag stood on a gray background.

“Hello to all of the Helera’kun,” the Yutilian woman said in an innocent but affirmative voice. She spoke in near-perfect English, with Itrean subtitles appearing on the side.

“My name is Ambassador Ifra,” she continued. “If you are hearing this, it means that the humans have succeeded in their mission, risking themselves to deliver a message of peace. I speak on their behalf to bring word about what has happened in the last several Itrean cycles. The Shal’rein clan is at war with the Aksren and T’rintar clans. For this, you already know what I’m talking about.”

“Ka’yesh...,” one of the Shal’rein from the table yelled out. “Yutilian ode’yin’yin...” She gestured to the one watching the broadcast to turn it off, but the Helera’kun ignored her. She already knew it was just enemy propaganda, but she kept watching anyway, perhaps to spite her cohort superiors. The two Shal’rein at the table knew it was just random nonsense and kept talking to each other.

“I will put this bluntly,” Ifra continued. “I know that many of you don’t trust the T’rintar, the Yutilians, the Aksren, any Itrean but yourselves for that matter, but what I can offer to you is something that is more important than anything else: ... salvation ... hope. We’ve desperately tried to reach out to other worlds, knowing that the constant wars through propaganda are just one of countless ways that we try to defeat one another. Lies become routine, but it isn’t just us, but those that hold you against your will. Our goal is to simply spread the word...” She held her hand to her protruding belly. “We have the cure to Zilik’s Disease...”

This grabbed the attention of the Helera’kun Itrean that saw the translation. This had to be a lie ... a lie of many lies, but this one was deeply personal, something the other Itreans wouldn’t likely do in their propaganda shows. This, combined with the fact that she spoke a completely different language, was also intriguing. Was this the human language? Did she really mean that?

“What I share with all of you is proof that we carry the cure to the greatest disease that afflicts us all,” Ifra explained as she held her scaly hand outward. A series of photographs was displayed showing the human anatomy. These included basic pictures and photographs of the human species, including an unknown male model who was nude.

“The humans that we have encountered, made our alliances with, carry the cure through their genes. They introduce a vital genetic trait that’s passed along to our children, one of which the disease never targets.”

She held her scaly hand to her stomach as adult shows were shown, depicting various sexual encounters from Itreans such as Yutilian, Aksren, and T’rintar Shal’rein women. The pictures and various videos all showed men who tenderly loved the alien women, showing passion and love to their mates. The videos that followed showed the basic gene structure of humans and Itreans as the genes intermixed. Next came pictures of baby Itreans, taken in hospital rooms, labs, or at home. The babies all showed the basic anatomy of a boy, living boys born that hadn’t been seen in over ten years of Itrean history.

The Helera’kun woman who watched it showed almost a level of disgust at first. Still, as images persisted and she saw videos and recordings of boy Itreans, recently born infants, her jaw lay agape. The viewer could only put her hand to her stomach, imagining it all.

“I’m not here to tell you what has happened to the T’rintar people,” Ifra said. “But I know that most of the Aksren and Shal’rein clan does their best to suppress this truth. I understand, ... we live in a galaxy of misbelief, but I’ve seen it all with my eyes, know the beating heart of my baby inside me that we can defeat this disease, but we can’t do it alone. The war continues. The Shal’rein and Aksren continue to devastate us, and above all else, the humans who are most important to all. I know what has happened to the Helera’kun, a proud people, the descendants of the original Shal’rein long, long ago. Your people live under imprisonment, ruled over by the Gok’shinta. You’re so used to it, even if they tell you to destroy your one chance to stop this disease before you are wiped out as well. I once had a friend who came from Kun. Joi’ka’tela Click before he died.”

“KAYESH!” the other Shal’rein in the room yelled. “Nade’tayu!”

The same Shal’rein grew annoyed as the Helera’kun observed the screen, her hand still pressed to her stomach.

This video must be everywhere. She knew it had to be true. They wouldn’t just send it to one place, but the whole planet. The two Shal’rein finally slammed their gray fists to the table, asking her to turn the screen off.

Why was it so important that it had to be turned off? The Helera’kun native’s anger grew slowly. If these were lies, why suppress them? Was there a hint of truth in the Yutilian’s words? Did they know something that she didn’t know?

This couldn’t be a lie. It would have been the most obscure way of ever telling a fib. Why convince a population that an alien race provided a resistance to the dreaded disease? Why go to great lengths in fabricating pictures and videos? Why show pornography of aliens and humans together, so that they...

“For the Helera’kun,” Ifra finished up her speech. “This broadcast will remain for as long as possible. The evidence will continue to be provided. Let your scientists review it, but understand that our goal is to save everyone, every Itrean, including the Helera’kun. The videos, some of the videos you see, come from Itreans who willingly turned themselves in, fled their worlds so they could reach Earth, Planet Itrea, the birthplace of all our species. We do not punish the defeated; we embrace them, let them share, and hopefully find a human mate so that the Itrean race can continue. No more ivons. No more forced changes to the women. I implore you to stand up against those who stand against your history, your achievements, what you managed to accomplish in your great history...”

All resentment towards Ifra had been dulled out by the native Shal’rein who saw the picture. Why was it important that this information not reach her planet? Because the Gok’shinta, just as the Nak’Ko’Ken had been doing the same thing they’ve always been doing ... they were holding this all back, lying to their own people, withholding the truth. The two Shal’rein walked over to the display and punched a button, turning it off.

The Helera’kun Itrean remained steady, her gaze momentarily saw the Shal’rein who did it.

“Kendaie, Kayesh,” the Shal’rein said, giving her an order, almost laughing at the strange T’rintar and human message.

Both Shal’rein began to walk away, the Helera’kun woman growing a deep, profound anger. It was utter resentment. Her teeth clenched as she felt her blood boil. Her teeth bared beneath her snout.

The two Shal’rein walking away from the display froze when they heard the laser trident charging. When they turned to look, their laughter turned to something else ... surprise, and ultimately concern.

What the two faced was a single Helera’kun, likely one of countless others that were lifting up their tridents, their ancient weapons, anything they could get a hold of, ready to skewer their ancient oppressors...

In space, far from Earth’s orbit, the Rampage hovered endlessly in the vacuum of space. A single repair drone floated near it, busily trying to reseal the numerous holes and blast marks that resided over its frame. The damage seemed extensive, as one of the 16-inch turrets was completely wrecked.

Yet, the ship remained operational. The spinning centripetal ring kept turning, providing the artificial gravity the dwindling crew needed.

Inside Darin’s quarters, the cowboy dressed in his familiar attire, with the lone difference of wearing a brown cowboy hat, stood overlooking the display. The man’s hands were on his hips as he spoke on video comms with another familiar face: Senator Faulknor. The politician sat in his familiar office as Darin spoke with the man.

“So that’s what happened,” Faulknor commented, his voice sounding coarse. He leaned back on his chair to the side as he thought about it, tapping his finger on the desk.

“I reckon that the Shal’rein,” Darin remarked. “More preferably the Helera’kun, have been receiving this message for well over an hour till their reinforcements politely shut it down again. No matter what, the genie’s out of the bottle and the horses are out of the barn, roaming the pasture side.”

“An entire mission to cut through their communication and relay a message straight to their people ... if only we could do that more often.”

“I’ve been told that we lucked out on this mission. Not many places in Aksren or Shal’rein space do this anymore, and likely, after hearing this incident take place, additional measures will be made to stop the riffraff from jumpin the telegraph poles. With that said, Itrean space is quite huge and word spreads slowly. I reckon that there are other targets like this that I can exploit in time.”