Ad astra per aspera, et ultra ad Logos (Chapter 13)

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Chapter 13.

“Everyone clear down there?” asked Ivko, hovering just beneath the cave ceiling.

The urruxy drones clustered around the queen, intent on shielding her from falling debris. Her porters crawled atop one another to lift her up —thus covering a smaller area. The queen braced herself against the wall and gave the urruxy equivalent of a thumbs-up.

“Okay then,” he said, powering up his sonic cannons. “Here we go.”

The cannons’ subharmonics began pulsing, pulverizing a wide section of the ceiling into coarse sand —not as fine as last time— which poured over him like a downpour. The rushed job was sloppy, and cracks began to form around the widening hole, but he couldn’t worry about that; on the holographic cave display in his HUD, the incoming krthons were drawing steadily closer, now even more galvanized by the cannon’s vibrations.

Willy, for his part, hovered near the section of the cave where the krthons would likely break through first. Pulse lasers at the ready, he waited patiently for the first one to show its face. Seconds later, amid a burst of shattered stone, a head full of outward-facing teeth emerged. It paused, as if sniffing the air —until it caught the unfamiliar scent of the power armor, along with the subtle vibrations it emitted— and, like a chemical projectile from ancient wars, it launched itself at Willy.

You poor foolish thing, he thought*,* as he sliced it in half with his entropic blade. The rest followed suit —and their fate wasn’t much different.

“Hurry, please!” the queen yelled at Ivko, panic making her entire frame tremble.

He didn’t answer, focused entirely on his work. His rushed boring dislodged several large boulders, which he deftly managed to either deflect with his shield or slice apart with his blade —barely avoiding crushing some of the surviving urruxy in the process.

This is taking for-fucking-ever, he thought angrily, eyeing the remaining ten meters of rock.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he increased the power to his cannons, pushing the containment cones to their limit. It did accelerate the process —but also risked damaging the equipment. Luckily, he’d designed his armor to handle precisely this level of strain.

He narrowed the sonic streams, forcing them to de-harmonize briefly —just enough to unleash a concussive shockwave that tossed everyone in the chamber backward.

“Watch it!” Willy snapped, busy dealing with a fresh wave of intruders.

Ivko didn’t reply —too self-conscious of his blunder to let himself be further distracted. Instead, he continued flying tight circles near the opening, batting away more falling debris —always steering it clear of the urruxy.

That’s it, that’s it, he thought to himself. Just a little bit more...

With a final, massive burst of sound, the ceiling exploded outward like a geyser. Through the new opening—five meters in diameter—a huge beam of light poured in, flooding the dark chamber with a torrent of brilliance.

“Okay, everyone!” barked Ivko. “Form up! Once the queen is out, we’ll get the rest of you. Go, go, go!”

After a moment of hesitation, the remaining tunnelers and filterers began piling up on top of one another, their bodies slowly and efficiently forming an urruxy pyramid. Around them, the warriors formed a defensive perimeter. Once the structure was ready, the porters carefully began carrying the queen up the living ramp—an improvised half-steep incline of chitin and muscle.

Meanwhile, Willy stood at the center of the cave, equidistant from all access points, fending off the incoming krthons. With rapid, precise shots from his shoulder-mounted lasers, he dropped them one by one. But their numbers were overwhelming, and their assault relentless.

“Ivko!” he said over their private channel. “There are too many of them. I might need your help… sooner rather than later.”

“Bit busy,” Ivko replied. “They’ve broken through on this side too!”

He circled around the growing pyramid of insectoid bodies, keeping the native attackers at bay with hard-hitting, organ-liquefying bursts from his cannons. Their fangs shattered under the violent sonic vibrations, while their internal organs ruptured, spewing out through their mouths.

He cringed inwardly at the grotesque massacre, but remained steadfast in fulfilling his oath and duty to protect sentient life above the non-sentient —much to his chagrin.

The porters steadily lifted the queen up the slope of bodies, careful to keep her level as she clung to them for dear life, perspiration slick across her trembling bulk. When they finally reached the top, Ivko flew over, indicating the most stable ledge to hoist her over and out of the cave —never ceasing his counterattack, his sonic cannons still trained on the animals.

“I can’t reach!” she cried, terror palpable in her voice, as she stretched her stubby front limbs toward the ledge, porters straining beneath her weight.

“Fuck my life,” muttered Ivko. After a second of consideration, he spoke to Willy: “Melt their holes and come over here!”

Willy did as instructed, firing his lasers at full charge into the rock around the openings, bathing the creatures in molten, glassy stone and suffocating them with the resulting toxic fumes. Having gained a few minutes of respite, he flew over to reinforce his partner’s flank.

“Quick shots —remember the fumes!” said Ivko, pointing toward the remaining urruxy in the cave.

“On it. Just go help her!”

Ivko flew beneath the queen’s bulk, gently pushed her underbelly, and hoisted her over the ledge. She wheezed in discomfort at the sharp pressure —far less gentle than the familiar touch of her brood— and, with a heavy thud, landed on the surface, atop the sunbaked, sandy rock.

“Ok, she’s out!” he yelled over the comm link. “Let’s bring everyone else up!”

The porters were the first to be carried out. Without the queen obscuring their forms, the two humans could now get a good look at them. Their backs had a hexagonal shape, with interlocking grooves designed to better support the queen’s weight amongst themselves. They had four pairs of legs, a pair of what seemed to be antennae —or perhaps antennae that had evolved into manipulators— beside their mouths, and a pair of eyestalks. It was a simple yet efficient design.

Carrying two or three at a time, it didn’t take the two humans long to have the queen’s means of transportation reassembled topside. The way they just regrouped and lifted her up was mesmerizing.

Next were the filterers —similar in shape to the porters, but with some sort of fleshy bag on their backs, probably for storing filtered minerals. Somehow, they seemed more eager to leave, their sacks filled with what appeared to be dirt. Although this made them heavier, they were still within acceptable parameters for the power armor to lift.

As they carried the filterers up, the tunnelers remained motionless in the pyramid, their bodies locked in what looked like some sort of interlocking rictus. Ivko performed a quick biometric scan, revealing they were all dead —the last of their energy spent helping their mother escape, their bodies frozen in place. He offered a brief prayer for them, then refocused on the warriors.

They stood in formation, ready to face the incoming horde. At first, they were reluctant to leave —galvanized by their mother’s lingering fear pheromones— preferring to stand and fight. But once they saw she was safe, they accepted being carried out.

The warriors were at least twice as large as the others, using their four rear legs for locomotion and their four front ones —tipped with razor-sharp chitinous claws— for defense. In addition, they possessed a long prehensile tail tipped with a venomous stinger, though its effectiveness against the local fauna had proven negligible at best.

Ivko carried them one at a time, while Willy flew around the cave, deftly keeping the krthons at bay.

Suddenly, an alert flashed on Ivko’s HUD —it was the Homunculus. It had spotted several incoming aerial predators, likely attracted by the queen’s scent. After quickly tuning its IFF, he gave the command to rip into the incoming threat.

Once the last warrior had been extracted, the two humans followed suit.

The incoming flyers resembled Earth’s prehistoric pterosaurs, but their particular brand of horror lay in their hyper-aerodynamic shape, iron-coded two-meter-long beaks, and twin pairs of wings —which allowed them to reach truly absurd speeds.

But regardless of Mother Nature’s ingenuity, human engineering once again trumped natural selection.

The gunship opened fire on the creatures with a volley of explosive-tipped kinetic rounds. Suffice it to say, the animals didn’t stand a chance.

The queen’s shuttle landed shortly after —a Saint Rupert’s tear–shaped craft hovering noiselessly just centimeters above the ground. Hers was significantly larger than the one aboard the Silvdrake, clearly designed to accommodate her size and that of her children.

As her porters carried her into the shuttle, she turned to face the humans, what looked like tears welling in her large, segmented eyes.

“I don’t have words to describe how thankful I am for your help,” she began. “Actually so, in fact. We lack the words… we never had the need to express such an emotion… until now…”

Her head hung low, uncertain of what to say next, but Willy interrupted her.

“As long as nothing like this happens again, that’s all the gratitude we require,” he said coldly and to the point, not wanting to linger on the topic. “We’ll go pick up your high-larvae now. Safe trip.”

With that, the humans flew away, gunship in tow, heading toward the larvae’s location.

***

Back aboard the Silvdrake, the crew erupted in cheers, thrilled by the mission’s successful outcome.

“Damn, those two can fly!” exclaimed Neryh, both pairs of hands on his face.

“And here I thought power armor was all show and no substance,” said Kana, still in disbelief at what she’d just seen on the live feed. “That’ll teach me to doubt them again.”

Angela clapped her hands with delight, bouncing with glee and cheering along with everyone —everyone, that is, except Tuyaara. The doctor’s tall, exuberant frame was frozen, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

The display of superhuman efficiency, readiness, and compassion had turned the flickering flame in her chest into a raging inferno of barely contained desire.

Angela grabbed her arm, shaking her out of her reverie.

“What’s the matter? Why so serious?” she asked, her expression split between confusion and excitement.

Tuyaara stared at her, and in a steady, almost predatory tone, pointed at Ivko’s feed and said:

“One day, I’m going to make that man mine.”

Angela, caught off guard by yet another of the doctor’s blunt confessions, just smiled and patted her shoulder.

“Well, you do you, I guess.”

“No,” replied the doctor biting her lower lip. “He’s going to do me.”

***

“Yeah, I see it,” said Willy, surveying the landscape. “That’s the cave right there, nestled between those two ridges.”

“Damn, good eye,” complimented Ivko. “Well, no time to waste.”

They flew down toward a rocky outcrop on the mountainside, tucked between two ridges not far from where they’d found the urruxy queen. A sloped path led down into the opening —likely carved out by the workers— starting at ground level and descending into the underground galleries. The humans had to admit it was well made; the slope maintained a steady 20° all the way.

They landed at the cave entrance with their usual grace, seamlessly transitioning from flight to a walking pace. Though hidden from a distance, up close the cave mouth was wide —easily accessible to a creature of the queen’s size.

Deep inside, a faint light glowed from an artificial structure. Its profile and color palette were unmistakably GC-standard —smooth, edgeless, and a matte blend of white and gray.

“I guess this is the nursery,” said Ivko, standing just outside.

He accessed the pod’s interface panel, and using the code the queen had given them, triggered the door. It slid open noiselessly, revealing a warm, moist, and dimly lit interior.

Before they could step inside, a figure emerged, brandishing what looked like an electrified pike —something between a prod and a spear — and assumed a shaky defensive stance.

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” the figure shrieked, its voice high-pitched and trembling.

It was shorter than the humans —about 1.75 meters— and vaguely humanoid, though a second pair of arms protruded from its midsection. Its body was dark gray, segmented and plated in the unmistakable style of the urruxy, but its head was a stark bone white, shaped like a tight crescent with sharp tips pointing upward. Two massive, jittery eyes stared them down.

Strangest of all, however, was its vague feminine hourglass shape.

“Your queen sent us,” said Willy, voice tired and neutral. “She’s safe, aboard her shuttle.”

The creature’s fighting stance faltered for an instant.

“How can I trust you?” it asked, its voice calmer now.

“I’m really not in the mood for this,” muttered Ivko, tilting his armored head back in annoyance.

“Come on, man. Last stretch — let’s just get it over with,” said Willy encouragingly, then turned back to the creature.

“Hello, I’m Chester, and this grumpy fella here is Ivan,” he said in a slow, deliberate voice, doing his best to sound as non-threatening and friendly as one possibly could while clad in power armor. “We’re with the Order. We answered your queen’s call for help. She’s safe now, aboard her shuttle. She gave us the access code to this pod —that’s how we got it open. “So, how about you tell us who you are?”

Ivko couldn’t help but roll his eyes and stifle a laugh at Willy’s overly soft tone. Still, it worked. The urruxy relaxed and lowered the prod, angling it harmlessly away from them.

“I’m Bubitsa, the royal urruxy nursemaid,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I apologize for the rude welcome —I’ve been a bit on edge since we landed.”

“No need to apologize,” said Willy in the same gentle tone. “You’re safe now. How are the larvae?”

“They’re fine — healthy and growing,” she said, glancing back into the chamber.

“That’s great to hear,” he replied cheerfully. “So, how about you head back inside and we carry the pod back to your ship?”

Bubitsa’s eyes widened further, stunned by the proposal.

“Wait, how?”

“Easy! We’ve got a gunship with atmospheric and suborbital capabilities. We just attach your pod to it, and off we go!” He gestured a takeoff with both hands. “So, what do you say? Ready to go home?”

She looked back at the pod with a hint of uncertainty, then returned her gaze to them and shrugged in resignation.

“I’d rather not spend more time in that cramped place… but I guess I’ve got no other choice…”

“Excellent!” interrupted Willy, clapping his hands once. “Then it’s a plan!”

Bubitsa opened her segmented mouth to protest, but thought better of it and begrudgingly returned to the pod.

“You silver-tongued, you,” said Ivko mockingly.

Suddenly, their HUDs pinged —a life signature was approaching from behind.

“Oh, what now?” groaned Ivko, turning with Willy to face the entrance.

From the cave’s mouth, a massive quadrupedal figure emerged. At first, it was backlit by the harsh brightness from outside, its form unclear — until both humans magnified it using their built-in optics.

Taxonomically, ancient zoologists had named it something along the lines of Saurorthrus umbraclausus. But since no one really cared for fancy-sounding animal names, everyone who knew of it referred to it by its far more accurate common name: “That Fucking Thing.”

To call it a menace would be the mother of all understatements.

On a planet where massive filter-feeding sandworms were a common sight, and flying, shish-kebabing pterosaurs could snatch prey off the ground in the blink of an eye, the fact that this thing was considered the single worst creature you could run into spoke volumes about the level of nightmare it brought with it.

That Fucking Thing was an odd blend of warm- and cold-blooded biology — capable of both endo- and exothermal regulation — which came in handy in an environment as hostile as this one, where even your next meal might try to make you its next meal. Being frugal with one’s energy intake and output could mean the difference between life and death.

They stood nearly four meters at the withers and six meters in length, with thick skin — loose around the neck — and a meter-long jaw capable of chewing through solid steel… possibly even power armor.

Nonetheless, it was still a biological creature, and just like before, it was about to face off against human engineering.

“Oh look, it’s that fucking thing,” said Willy flatly. “You wanna take care of it while I move the pod?”

“Sure,” answered Ivko, casually stepping forward, sonic cannons dialed just a notch above crowd control.

Ivko had seen enough needless death lately, and damned if he was going to kill yet another innocent animal — even if said animal could theoretically tear him in half.

When it spotted him, it launched into a gallop, closing the distance fast, jaws wide open, hissing furiously, with rivulets of saliva flinging from its teeth. It was very clearly hungry.

But Ivko knocked that idea out of its head fast. A rapid succession of sonic blasts struck the beast like a sledgehammer to the face, halting its charge mid-stride and dropping it to its haunches in dazed confusion. It lifted its head again, shaking it off, preparing a second charge — but Ivko wasn’t having it. Several more directed blasts later, the creature gave up, stumbling away from the cave, nauseous, disoriented, and in pain.

“There you go,” Ivko muttered. “You get to live another day.”

Willy reappeared moments later, dragging the hovering pod behind him, mag-locked to his gauntlets.

“It’s over already?” he asked. “I was expecting more of an epic duel.”

“It’s just an animal,” Ivko said flatly. “A hungry one, looking for an easy meal. I’m not killing it for that.”

“Aww, you’re such a big softie,” Willy mocked, grinning.

“Oh, fuck off,” Ivko shot back with a chuckle. “Let me help you with that. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I get a shower. It stinks in here.”

The two humans took their positions at either side of the pod, mag-locked their gauntlets to its hull, and slowly lifted it into the air, flying it up toward the waiting Homunculus.

***

Once in orbit, the gunship delivered the pod to the urruxy ship, where the queen received the return of her larvae with the deepest gratitude — nearly groveling at the humans’ feet, much to Ivko’s annoyance.

“Your Highness,” said Bubitsa, “you should’ve seen them fending off a massive monster that came sniffing around the cave! It was incredible!”

The humans just looked at one another in confusion.

“Wait, she saw that?” asked Ivko over their private channel.

“Apparently so,” replied Willy. "The pod must've had a virtual window of sorts."

“If there’s anything I can do for you, in the name of the urruxy people and my sister queens…” the queen began.

“Again, there’s no need,” said Ivko, trying to hide his annoyance. “It’s literally our job. Service is its own reward. Farewell, and take care of yourselves.”

And with that, the two humans left the urruxy cargo hold and returned to the Silvdrake.

***

Yupgo met them in the Silvdrake’s cargo hold, decked in full dress uniform and flanked by several hover drones — possibly to “immortalize the occasion for posterity,” or basically to send a copy to the GC bureaucrats.

“Gentlemen, on behalf of the GC – Order Concordat, I, Yupgo, Captain First Class of the Silvdrake, offer you my most sincere gratitude for your heroism in this most sensitive rescue mission,” he spoke in a serious and solemn voice, genuinely meaning every single word. “You are a credit to your kind…”

The two humans just stared at him, faces still hidden behind their helmets, while he continued speaking.

“Do you think the cameras would catch if I fart inside the armor?” said Willy over their private channel.

Ivko stifled a laugh.

“I think we should just start ripping some fat ones, letting them loose unfiltered, and watch him continue his speech while being gassed to death,” Ivko answered.

They both laughed maniacally in their suits while Yupgo continued with his speech, unaware of how the two humans swayed with laughter.

“And so, for your unrelenting dedication, I’ve been empowered by the GC Space Fleet to grant you the honorific title of Life-Guardians, and—”

“That’s great, sir,” Willy interrupted, not caring for any of it. “Just great. We appreciate all of it, truly, but we’re very tired and need to take the suits off, bathe, eat, and partake in our human purification rituals.”

“Yes, the purification rituals,” added Ivko. “Those are very important for us — they keep our violent tendencies at bay, and all that.”

“Yes, with all the adrenaline from combat, there’s a lot of warrior rage buit up within us,” explained Willy.

Still chuckling, they gave an exaggerated salute and walked off, leaving the captain standing there, looking somewhat foolish and rather red at the thought of them possibly going violent onboard.

Once in the shuttle bay, they placed the power armors in their respective repair bays. Once firmly secured, the suits opened —segmented plates sliding over one another— until both humans were freed from their confined apparel. The sweat that hadn’t been filtered pooled around their feet and came cascading out, filling the air with the musky, stale smell of undiluted humanity.

The gathered crew emitted groans of disgust —some laughing, others… not so much.

“Oh my God!” yelled Kana. “How —and why— does it smell that bad?!”

Willy, crouching next to the armor’s feet, splashed some of the foul-smelling liquid at her, making her squeal in horror and leap nearly a full meter off the ground. Suffice it to say, everyone found her reaction hilarious.

“You asshole!” she yelled, dry-heaving at the stench. “I’m going to be sick…”

She ran off, likely to her room to throw up.

“Ah, to be young again and so easily grossed out,” said Navrek, the old nokaltorun, utterly immune to the smell. “I remember in my youth, working my parents’ fields with fresh rasunibine manure… boy, that was a stench that lingered in your antennae for days. You’d feel it on your shell even after bathing in lye.”

“Wait, aren’t those the centipede-like things in your old paintings?” asked Ivko, reading the suit diagnostics on a side screen. “Wasn’t their dung horribly caustic?”

“No, you’re thinking of something else,” he corrected the human. “The rasunibine are similar to those creatures, but the ones with caustic waste were the noxithoons. They were battle mounts —huge, smelly, violent, and could spit predigestive acids. Some civilizations used them for scorched-earth tactics. They’d run across enemy fields after being fed a laxative and… well, you get the picture. The funny thing is they ended up turning on their masters, thus ridding us of the civilizations that would employ such tactics.”

“They would’ve been like the Carthaginians war elephants,” said Willy ponderous. “Big, expensive, hard to train, and an absolute drain on the treasury.”

Neryh checked his PIT, comparing both species.

“Damn, you actually tamed these fucking things?” he said, pointing at the displays. “How? They take over a year to be born, they lived as long as their riders, and they were too smart!”

“Elephants were captured as adults, beaten into submission, and then used for war,” explained Willy. “They were a ridiculous economic waste, and the worst part was they weren’t that effective — especially once you got over the intimidation factor.”

“Pretty much the same with the noxithoons,” chimed in Navrek. “But there was the added bonus that they were carnivorous, not herbivorous like elephants, which meant feeding them was a nightmare. But, you know, as long as you had prisoners, they never went hungry.”

“Well, you know what they say: brutal problems require brutal solutions,” said Ivko.

“Speaking of brutal,” said Nirales, “that thing down there… with the power armors… that was insane! How did you learn to do all that? Was there an academy or something?”

“Not at all,” explained Willy, mopping the floor. “We’re self-taught. Just slow trial and error, practice, improving the suits, seeing what worked and what didn’t. The Order did have to give the suits a type-approval though, especially if we wanted to use them in military or rescue operations.”

“So, you just built them from scratch?” said Nirales, glowing bright purple in disbelief. “How?”

“The same way people build anything,” explained Ivko, now finished with the diagnostics. “We look at what came before, figure out what could be improved, and see if we can actually apply those improvements.”

Nirales just shook his head in disbelief.

“And the government just lets you do all that?”

“What government?” Neryh chimed in. “The GC? Come on, don’t make us laugh.”

“They have no say in Deathworlder affairs,” explained Navrek. “They signed an accord with the humans four hundred years ago to keep clear of us. They trust us not to go too crazy, and we trust them not to get too stupid. It all balances out.”

“Come on, man,” said Willy. “We’ve had this conversation already. We govern ourselves through strict adherence to religious doctrine. If that fails, we have judges. And if they fail, Eirenarch steps in.”

Nirales blinked a particular color sequence denoting resignation and dropped the subject.

“Well, diagnostics are done, and the replacements are being fabricated,” said Ivko, stretching. “Now I want out of this sticky body glove, a shower, and a nap.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I gave you a quick once-over first?” said Tuyaara, in a sweet and gentle tone. “You know… just to make sure you’re both okay…”

“Nah,” said Ivko, checking with Willy. “We’re good. All we need now is sleep and food.”

The doctor hid her disappointment well. She knew this wasn’t a sprint — it was a marathon.

He would be hers.

***

“Well, fellow crewmates,” announced Neryh in a solemn and overly pompous voice, standing over the dining table, still clad in his apron. “In order to celebrate our bold warrior’s victory, I’ve decided to make a meal for the ages — a stew I call The Madman’s Menagerie.”

He placed on the table a huge, steaming ceramic pot, from which an indescribable aroma wafted and spread through the entire module of the ship.

“This combines the culinary essence of all our four species,” he explained, opening the lid to reveal a somewhat dark red stew —with some streaks of blue— filled with a myriad of different ingredients floating inside.

“It combines the nokaltorun’s sweet tooth, the seyalthra’s love for salty iodine, the human’s penchant for thick meaty textures, and the kaelarun’s preference for very finely ground spices,” he continued, serving the first bowl and handing it to Angela. “To that end, I’ve employed a mixture of ingredients from all our native worlds for the broth —nokaltorun lut honey, seyalthra dob seaweed, human garlic, and my people’s teft tubers. Hence the deep red color. Think of the stew, as the garden of the menagerie.”

He continued serving bowls to everyone.

“Now, the things you see floating around are what I like to call the true essence of the menagerie,” he declared, like a true master of ceremonies, full of grace and regal elegance. “From the nokaltorun side, I present rheve larvae; from the seyalthra, rugfus noodles —vat-grown, of course, courtesy of the good doctor; from the human side, a little something-something I got during our stay at Solara: a nice, juicy slab of Iberian bacon —finely sliced and almost melted; and finally, from my neck of the stars, the finest grizky boiled eggs.”

“I have a different name for this dish,” commented Willy, staring at the spoonful before him. “The ass ripper.”

“Hey, be nice,” admonished Angela. “Pay him no mind — it smells delicious.”

“Your skepticism is not misplaced, Willy,” said Neryh, bowing his head humbly. “I would feel the same, had someone else made it. But just as you are a master of your craft, so am I.”

Something dinged in the background.

“Excellent,” he proclaimed. “Before we start eating, let’s take a brief moment to thank our tireless local gardener for the following treat.”

He walked over to the oven and took out a piping-hot loaf of freshly baked ChloroNutra bread. The green treat made everyone’s eyes go wide with excitement and kicked everyone’s salivation into overdrive.

“Thanks to the tireless efforts of the one and only Navrek, we can enjoy today what — in my humble opinion —is one of the greatest things the galaxy has to offer.”

He brought the bread to the table and, with deft precision, began slicing one thick piece for everyone.

“What a legend,” said Willy, patting the massive chitinous back of the nokaltorun.

“Oh! And how could I forget — the drinks!” He went back to the massive refrigerator and pulled out a big clay pitcher. “A nice cold fruit brandy — my own blend.”

Once everyone had been served and Neryh had finally sat down, Angela began to say grace.

“We thank you, Lord, for this bounty, for these good friends, and for the purpose you’ve delivered to us. Amen.”

The various aliens echoed their own forms of closing phrase. Nirales, not being religious, just went through the motions respectfully.

It didn’t take long before they were groaning and moaning in approval at the banquet the young noble had prepared, barely able to express how good it all was. But when they bit into the bread — and even dipped it in the broth —that’s when true bliss was achieved.

“Good God, man!” said Ivko, incredulous. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“I second that,” agreed Willy, speaking around a mouthful of noodles. “Anything else I eat will taste like shit in comparison.”

“By the way,” begun Nirales, blowing through a funnel formed from his facial tentacles, cooling down the portion caught in the spork-like utensil made specifically for his morphology. “What are these noodles made out of? You said they were vat-grown, right?”

“The rugfus is a kind of sea creature,” Kana began to explain. “They’re a species of underwater, radially symmetrical invertebrates that are just… mmm… to die for.”

“Unfortunately, they’re impossible to keep in captivity, and their meat spoils almost instantly —so you have to eat them fresh,” explained Neryh, pouring himself another glass of brandy with his longer rear arms, while still eating with the shorter front ones.

“And the rest of the ingredients?” asked Nirales. “You all know what they are, but I’m still completely lost.”

“It’s pretty simple stuff, really,” Neryh began explaining. “The ingredients of the ‘garden’ are exactly what you’d think —vegetables and tubers, selected for their taste and how well they blend together. The rest, though, have a bit more personality… and symbolism, shall we say.”

He took a bite of the green slice of bread and continued.

“The rheve larvae come from a species native to the nokaltorun cradle planet, Naktom,” he went on. “They’re a form of eusocial, beetle-like insects — about the size of my front fist —that have been a staple of their diet since time immemorial. The adult specimens are generally preferred, but chitin isn’t particularly healthy for the rest of us… so, larvae it is.

“Then, we have the human Iberian bacon. It’s derived from what Angela’s tribe refer to as ‘man’s best friend’ — the pig. A quadrupedal mammal, native to just about anywhere you can find humans.”

“We’ve exhausted all the ways you can prepare the animal,” added Angela. “So much so that we had to gene-hance it just to discover new ones.”

“And we all thank your people for it,” said Tuyaara, raising her cup.

“Quite so,” added Neryh. “And last but not least, my people’s grizky eggs. These come from a small, yet ridiculously prolific, species of bird that, back in the day, was exclusive to royalty. But thanks to advances in agriculture and poultry husbandry, they eventually became available to everyone.”

“They have such a sweetish taste,” commented Navrek. “Not as sweet as we’d like it to be, but still... The lut honey though… mmm, what a touch of mastery.”

“By the way,” Angela began, “how did you get hold of all these ingredients?”

“You do know that I’m a noble, right?” said Neryh, raising an eyebrow in mock arrogance. “I have my ways, madame.”

“All right, keep your secrets then,” she replied, earning a few chuckles from those who understood the quote.

They ate until the whole pot was emptied —a feat accomplished mostly by Willy, Ivko, and Navrek’s seemingly insatiable appetites— even wiping the pot clean with the remaining bread.

“Where do you even store all that food?” asked Angela incredulously, she and the other women having been more frugal with their portions.

“We’re growing boys, and we need our protein,” said Ivko, finishing up his own bowl.

“Exactly,” concurred Willy. “What, you think we can maintain these chiseled artistic works of biomass by simply existing?”

The two humans struck a pose, flexing their arms, showing off their muscles.

“No, my dear friend,” Willy continued, relaxing. “Maintaining these beasts of nature is a daily effort — something that requires nigh ritualistic maintenance.”

“And an equally high caloric intake,” concluded Ivko, downing his glass of brandy.

“I just like eating,” said Navrek matter-of-factly —the simple answer as endearing as himself.

Neryh served everyone another round of brandy.

“So,” he began, “final verdict?”

“Sublime,” said Angela.

“To die for,” seconded Tuyaara.

Ivko stood up, raised his cup, and began reciting:

“Bless the fire that stirs the pot,

bless the bread that’s never forgot.

Bless the water, bless the wine,

bless the hands that shape the line.”

 

“If there’s meat —let it soften,

if there’s broth —let it warm,

if there’s table —let it be often,

may it all our hunger swarm.”

 

Let hunger come with joyful grace,

let each bite find its rightful place.

And if there’s dessert —then sing, rejoice!

Good fare to all… and peace in the void.”

 

They all clapped, looking at him in awe, smiling at the shared sentiment.

“How about we sing something we all know?” suggested Angela. “And who knows, maybe Nirales could one day learn it and sing along.”

She began slamming her hand on the table rhythmically, humming a repetitive and somewhat mournful melody. Everyone immediately cheered in agreement, recognizing the song, and gave her the honor of starting it.

“Oh I, born of chaos, child of flame,

Of trials carved my name,

My flesh may shift, my blood be old,

Yet the Order's call I claim.”

 
Everyone hummed along, the different alien tonalities blending into a solemn cornucopia of melodic purpose.

By memory’s fire that lights my soul,

And the trials I’ve withstood,

I swear to stand, through ash and storm,

For justice, peace, and good.

 

Then they all sang the chorus in unison, standing up and raising both their voices and cups of brandy:

So raise the star and strike the chord,

We sail beneath our one true Lord,

Through death or dark, through pain or flame,

The Order calls —we rise the same!

 

Willy made a quick dash into his room, emerging with his holo-fiddle, and began playing along with everyone’s humming, while Angela continued with the second verse of the shanty:

I’ll not use strength to crush the weak,

Nor wit to twist and lie,

My wisdom shall not sow despair,

Nor scorch the open sky.

I’ll guard the living, high or low,

whether they hail from Death or Garden,

And bring to chaos harmony,

Where strife and grief have hardened.

They once again joined in to sing the chorus:

So raise the star and strike the chord,

We sail beneath our one true Lord,

Through death or dark, through pain or flame,

The Order calls —we rise the same!

 

Willy’s melody doubled its pace, in rhythm with everyone else, seeming to dance around the table like a hyperactive child, as Angela continued with the third verse:

 

Through body shall I shape the world,

Through mind, the stars I’ll chart,

Through soul, I’ll seek the higher path,

And walk it with full heart.

No honors shall I seek or beg,

Nor fear the end of breath,

But stride as Guardian of the Flame,

Through time, through life, through death.

 

The zeal and determination that came out of her were in stark contrast to her usual affable and agreeable demeanor. Her voice rose —a couple of tears peeking from her eyes— her rhythmic slamming on the table growing ever louder, galvanizing everyone else, even Nirales.

They all joined in a final burst of Deathworlder militant paroxysm:

So raise the star and strike the chord,

We sail beneath our one true Lord,

Through death or dark, through pain or flame,

The Order calls —we rise the same!

 

***