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Prologue: Catching Up

It is often difficult to comprehend the cyclic pattern of history. Nations are born to inevitably die, while empires rise only to topple over. Many might find it fascinating to realize how often our history seems to repeat itself. When one cycle of collapse ended as much as 1,000 years previous, another began. It seems, though, that there are many similar factors in each scenario. Economic crises, natural disasters and erosion of the strength and sovereignty of the state, etc. It seems that these factors have identical effects no matter to whom or where it occurs.

It hasn't even been 140 years since the commencement of the last collapse, a calamity still fresh in the minds of many; a combination of economic, political and natural disasters that ruined the nations that once were, in the fall of 2045. To this historian's knowledge, however, no previous nation or empire has ever attained a level of greatness seen in our time. Space travel, colonies on the moon and several of Jupiter's, a terraformed Mars, etc. Does our technology make us immune, or are we merely building a new foundation of sand that can, at any moment, crumble beneath us?

The following is a chronology of the most important events by year, beginning with the last collapse.

· 2045: 'The Ending', the apocalyptic events that had effectively ruined the previous civilizations of the world.

· 2070's: After decades of enduring a post-apocalyptic hellscape, the super nations are formed.

· 2071: Makahd (The Makahdias) is formed and encompasses all of what was once Eastern-Europe and the Middle-East. Makahd is a representative republic.

· 2073: Soyuz (The Soyuzians) is formed and encompasses all of what was once Western-Europe. Soyuz is a representative republic.

· 2075: Sijia (The Sijians) is formed and encompasses all of what was once North, Central and South America, and is the largest and most powerful of the super nations. Sijia is a representative republic.

· 2076: Tongyí (The Tongyans) is formed and encompasses all of what was once Asia and the Pacific-Islands. Tongyí is a kingdom with a hereditary family line.

· 2078: Shikamano (The Shikamanoans) is formed and encompasses the rest of Africa and the surrounding islands, as well as what was once a nation call 'Australia'. Shikamano is a kingdom with a hereditary family line.

· 2080: Civilization as we know it finally begins to reemerge with the aid of the five super nations, primarily Sijia, who grew economically and technologically faster than all of the other nations.

· 2082: The super nations sign a peace treaty, 'Prae bellum'. Amazingly, all five nations are content to rule their own lands and avoid each other, with the exception of trade agreements.

· 2084: Sijia, the fastest developing nation, is the first to send earthlings into space, heading for an unfinished moon dome base that was built just prior to The Ending by a pre-collapse nation called 'China'.

· 2085: The Sijian and Makahdian governments decide to build a “League of Nations", inviting the other three to join; they accept.

· 2087: A neutral base is constructed in equally neutral territory, the center of the Atlantic Ocean. The hovering base is the new headquarters for the League of Nations and is operated jointly by each, who provides 20% of the cost and personnel required to operate and maintain it.

· 2088: Sijia and Makahd finish work on the lunar base and collectively operate it.

· 2089: Soyuz, Tongyí and Shikamano are invited to establish colonies within the massive lunar complex.

· 2090: Commercial space vessels become available to corporations and private citizens of every super nation, with the exception of Tongyí, who heavily regulates their citizens in an authoritarian regime.

· 2095: Space ships become considerably more affordable with the advent of modular units and the Sijians and Makahdians make heavy use of them.

· 2097: The moon has been completely colonized by all five super nations, with millions of citizens living in domed cities. The Sijian's plan on expanding toward Mars and make a concerted effort to create faster ships to make such a journey feasible.

· 2100: Sijia succeeds in building a “hyper-drive". Though FTL flight is still unattainable, a form of Alcubierre drive (a theoretical engine envisioned pre-collapse) allows ships to create a “warp bubble" to travel in Sol space rather quickly. The primary failing of the drive is a high-power drain. As a result, personal craft cannot mount the hyper-drive; only large ships can make use of it. These large ships are nuclear powered and the drives are governed at 480,000 miles-per-hour to prevent failure; a trip from the Earth to the moon takes 30 minutes, while Mars can be visited in 3 days. A trip from the Earth to Pluto, however, still takes over a year (405 days).

· 2103: New bases and colonies, some freelance and some run by private companies, spring up as a result of the more efficient and affordable space ship technology and the now standardized hyper-drives.

· 2115: Space ship technology is perfected by Sijia and Makahd and mass produced by all nations, allowing Earthlings of upper-middle class income to afford and use them. Though they are relatively large craft, capable of holding considerable cargo and requiring crews of 4 or more, the hyper-drive is still unavailable to these smaller vessels; they are limited to swift planetary travel or long trips to the moon colonies and back under conventional thrusters.

· 2120: A Soyuzian scientist named Alfonse Webber discovers a way to make the hyper-drive vastly more efficient, allowing them to be mounted on smaller civilian craft without the use of large nuclear cores, thereby opening space to millions more ships. His modifications also allow the governor to be reset for a vastly higher speed; 940,000 miles-per-hour. The moon can now be reached in under 15 minutes, Mars in 36 hours and Pluto in 207 days. A new wave of space exploration ensues.

· 2124: The authoritarian Tongyí kingdom is caught preparing for war against the Soyuz after several key scientists and government officials blow the whistle. The first thing to be exposed is the attempted creation of a bio-weapon, made into a teal colored powder called Kanley-Toxor Substance #941, named after the two leading scientists who designed it. Tongyí is immediately blockaded and forced by the other four nations to surrender or be annihilated. Left with no options and not prepared to fight on all fronts, the Tongyan government complies and are arrested. The Tongyí nation is operated jointly by the remaining four nations while trials are held.

· 2125: While researching the multiple new weapons platforms created in secret by the Tongyí kingdom, Kanley-Toxor Substance #941 is discovered to be a sub-par weapon but an extremely potent narcotic and hallucinogen which, when used for extended periods, can alter the DNA of the user to a degree. It is vastly more dangerous to humans than Voeldahn, possibly a result of the Tongyí having the lowest human density. The long-term effects of the drug are unknown, but it severely decreases inhibitions, is highly addictive, and renders the users permanently and often violently psychotic.

· 2126: The entire Tongyí regime responsible for the plotted “WWIII strike" as many often call it, are executed by being jettisoned into space. The ruling family, their generals, advisors and various other associates are rather publicly killed in only one day. 780 are executed by vacuum of space.

· 2127: The Tongyí kingdom is restructured as a representative republic, identical in form and function to Sijia, Makahd and Soyuz, leaving the Shikamanoan government as the sole remaining kingdom left among the five super nations. The draconian laws governing the Tongyan people are lifted and replaced with more liberal Makahdian and Sijian laws. Tongyí experiences a social and economic boom virtually overnight.

· 2128 (Early): Samples of Kanley-Toxor Substance #941 find their way into the hands of street manufacturers who nickname it 'Kan-Tox' and 'sky dust' and sell it as a generic narcotic. Overdoses, mass psychosis and violent crimes skyrocket almost instantaneously, forcing the League of Nations to shift their focus toward the new epidemic of drug use among their collective citizenry.

· 2128 (Late): Kanley-Toxor Substance #941 is banned by all nations. Possession of even 1 gram is punishable by 20 years in prison without parole, and users are confined to asylums. This is a direct result of the horrific mental changes that occur in users, who often become prone to extreme violence. The Shikamanoan kingdom takes it a step further, making it a death penalty to be carried out immediately. It does little to stem the tide of violence and drug abuse. A media black-out to prevent panic only allows word-of-mouth to spread the drug before the nation's police forces can act.

· 2130: Using the Alfonse modified hyper-drive, a domed prison colony built specifically for sky dust abusers and other extremely violent offenders is built on Pluto by the Earth collective.

· 2145: The sky dust epidemic has finally subsided after 15 years of strife, though it is still a presence on the streets, used in tiny doses by addicts. As a result of the crime and the exceptionally hazardous biological effects of sky dust on humans, the already skewed human-to-Voeldahn ratio tilt even further to roughly 1-to-5. The world population sits at approximately 1,500,000,000; only 300,000,000 of the population are human, while the rest are Voeldahn. Tongyí has the lowest registered human population at only 4%, versus 96% Voeldahn. Shikamano is 9%, Soyuz is 20%, while Makahd and Sijia maintain the highest human density of around 30% and 37% respectively.

· 2147: As humans and Voeldahn can interbreed but only reproduce the race/species of the mother, the League of Nations encourage human reproduction with universal tax cuts. In some nations, such as Tongyí, it becomes taboo to have interracial couplings; both humans and Voeldahn fear and actively prevent the extinction of the human race. As a result of the severe diminishment of the human population, a secondary program to preserve human DNA in a form of “gene vault" is funded by the League of Nations. Simultaneously, a strange social change is noted in all locales; a subset of the Voeldahn populous become extremely fetishistic toward humans, considering them the most desirable emotional and sexual partners and actively seek out human mates, regardless of their limited numbers.

· 2150: Large colonies exist on Mars, while several moons of Jupiter have colonies under construction. Over 100 large space stations run by freelance organizations, private corporations or the five super nations litter the space between the Earth, moon, Mars and Jupiter.

· 2152: A large Soyuzian corporation, EarthSpan, develops a method of terraforming planets that have subterranean water sources. Though testing in labs on model planets contained in vacuums is promising, they struggle to lobby the League of Nations to allow them to enact terraforming of Mars.

· 2155: The colonies on Io, Europa and Ganymede are completed, while Callisto colonies are still under construction. EarthSpan sends several ships on a voyage to the Saturn moon, Titan, to begin colonization.

· 2157: The human population stabilizes at roughly 25% of Earth's total population, with little signs of dropping. Though the programs to encourage human population growth are left in place, few still worry about the race as a whole; many people, even humans, are content to keep their population at a 1-to-4 ratio with the Voeldahn.

· 2158: The League of Nations allows EarthSpan to attempt to terraform Mars. Within months, an atmosphere develops and the surface begins to warm up.

· 2160: Mars terraforming is successful. Earthling's can now survive without space suits. The planet is slowly seeded, while many remain within the domed cities.

· 2170: Europa and Callisto are terraformed by EarthSpan and turned into viable new worlds without the need for domed cities.

· 2175: Mars has become a lush and vibrant planet reminiscent to Earth during the dawn of time. The domed cities lose their domes, but strict zoning regulations are promptly established to help protect the vibrant, jungle-like world.

· 2177: The current year; future unknown.

The previous collapse was much like the others before it, but The Ending was much less of an ending than it was a rebirth. It allowed for the formation of our current nations, for another renaissance of science and art, for the creation of colonies in space and the creation of affordable craft available to many citizens. While that has never occurred before in recorded history, does it make us immune to another, or will it simply arrive in a different form? Our own technology nearly saw the eradication of humanity, though they persevered alongside us, as they always do; our ever-present companions since the dawn of time.

If there are any lessons to be learned from our recent history, it is to be wary of the trust that we put into our own technology. Technology itself isn't the problem, per se, but it needs to be handled with respect and care. Like a weapon, power tool or fire, it should not be misused or abused; instead of asking “Can we?", we should be asking “Should we?". The mishandling of our vast intellect may see us suffering after-effects far worse than a narcotic epidemic or the extinction of the human race. It is a lesson that this Voeldahn historian won't soon forget, and he recommends that the reader doesn't either.

Written by Marcus McKraken, April 19th of 2177.

Chapter One: Getting The Groove

Grumbling as he stirs in his bed, George Woods opens his tired eyes, awoken by the sound of the chiming alarm clock. Glancing toward the holographic display of the clock, the 27-year-old sees that it is '09:41'; the clock has been chiming for a full minute. Reaching out, he waves his hand over the oscillating display, deactivating the alarm and rising from his bed. The pale-skinned human yawns and stretches his muscles. His long and wavy, light-brown hair falls just beyond his shoulder blades and frame his face. His blue-green eyes stare at the sheen of his gold colored bed sheets.

Shaking the sleep from his body, he climbs out of bed. Standing 5 feet and 8 inches tall, he scratches the long beard and whisker-like mustache that covers his face. Continuing his daily routine, the self-employed human heads for his bathroom to wash up. He dresses in his trademark clothes; black pants and work boots with a bright orange t-shirt and a black cotton long-coat. He holsters his Anelace XR-9 blaster, using the long-coat to cover the weapon. As a Sijian, George Woods is allowed to liberally carry his blaster, concealed or visible, requiring only a valid identification chip worn on his person or installed in his V.I. bracelet.

The dull silver and black two-toned weapon slips into his form-fitted, synthetic plastic holster which sits on his left hip. With a silver barrel and accented pieces mounted onto a black frame and grip, it's an intriguing looking weapon. The thin and angled pistol grip, long barrel and the primary battery pack near the front, sitting just before the trigger guard, the Anelace XR-9 blaster is often considered a dated looking weapon, though it remains one of the higher quality blasters available. Many find amusement with its similar appearance to an old weapon used during the dawn of the 20th century, a Mauser C96.

Like many blasters, the Anelace XR-9 is technically a rail gun. Using a tiny particle of superheated plasma, the XR-9 fires the plasma through the top of a cylinder of raw steel that acts as the ammunition and fits into the pistol grip. Shaving off and simultaneously heating a chunk of steel, the superheated plasma and metal fragment are expelled from the weapon via electromagnetic force at incredible velocity, though the velocity can be adjusted. George pauses for a moment before drawing his blaster at a reflection of himself, smirking as he twirls the weapon on his trigger finger, it's safety catch still on.

Opening a drawer that contains his clothing accessories, he removes another steel ammunition rod and five more batteries, slipping them into black fabric belt pouches stitched to fit. The Anelace XR-9 can fire as much as 60 rounds per battery and 180 rounds per ammunition bar. He takes his V.I. bracelet from a charging stand and latches it onto his right wrist. A computerized article of simple titanium jewelry, the V.I. bracelet contains a small screen and virtual intelligence, hence the 'V.I.'

Its purpose is to monitor his health, the time, maintain records, send messages, make calls and carry out any other menial task that once were relegated to devices known to be used by pre-collapse societies and called “cell phones". As a bit of a technology buff, George has modified his own bracelet with various mods, some of them less than legal. Activating the device, he watches as the blue lights briefly glow on the black screen, cycling through as it always does.

While many leave their V.I. bracelets activated at all times, checking them every few minutes or even wearing matching V.I. glasses to view its content, George isn't so addicted. Looking at the device, he finds a message from his younger brother, James.

“Hey bro. Just checking in. I haven't heard from you in a few days since your last trip out. We need to hang out sometime!"

George silently chuckles. James only initiates contact when he is exceptionally bored or something is wrong with his life and he needs someone to talk too. Who better to complain to than his own brother? Lately, James has been busy with his family; a human man with a human wife, the couple live on Mars raising their 2-year-old son and 5-year-old daughter. Only a year younger than George, the brothers were born on Earth in 2150 and 2151 respectively, a direct result of the government initiatives to help bolster the diminishing human population.

While George was the spitting image of his human father, Gordon, James has a decidedly different appearance. With black hair and vibrant amber eyes, he is in stark contrast to the rest of the family, all having sandy blonde or light brown hair with blue-green eyes. Some neighbors liked to spread the rumors that James was the product of an affair that his human mother had with a Voeldahn neighbor boy, a young man with a canine appearance, solid black fur and vibrant amber eyes. All hear-say, of course.

Their father raised both children as though they were his, regardless of the potential circumstances; he never gave credence to the awful rumors of his wife's infidelity, though he often was away from home for countess hours as he worked in the mines. Their mother, Sandra, died from complications while attempting to give birth to twins in 2155; the children also perished. After their father died in a mining accident in 2160, the brothers were sent to live with their only remaining relative, their grandmother on their father's side.

Living a hard life in an area dramatically affected by the sky dust epidemic, Rose was a gentle yet stern woman who lived in a less than ideal neighborhood on Earth. The Woods brothers quickly adapted to their rough surroundings and developed the necessary skills to survive. Fights were commonplace in their childhood. Rose, however, was strongly religious and made a concerted effort to stamp the two boys with her moral compass. It appeared to work, as eventually the pair managed to pull themselves out of the slums by sheer force of will, while somehow avoiding prison entirely.

At 20 years of age, George went into business for himself while 19-year-old James found work in the same mines as his father. Unlike his father, however, James quickly rose in the ranks and by 21-years-old he was promoted to overseer. George, meanwhile, was successful in his own endeavors. As he sits at his kitchen table, the lone human glances to his V.I. bracelet several times, eating a bowl of sugary, corn-based cereal. Sighing, he decides to finally reply to his brother's message.

“What's wrong this time?" George texts his brother.

After a brief wait, he receives no reply. This isn't unusual for James, who often works or spends time with his family; he replies whenever he sees fit. Cleaning his dishes, George leaves his apartment and heads for the ground floor. Entering a parking garage, he approaches an orange hovercar. The light bounces off of the shiny metallic paint of the three-door hatchback sports car. George can't help but grin every time he sees his Rapid Thunder. It wasn't all that long ago when he was driving a rusting Vero Hauler, an economic cargo hovervan built by an equally economic manufacturer.

The Rapid Motor corporation, the first to form in Sijia after the reconstruction efforts began, is now one of the largest and most trusted hovercar brands. Rapid make everything from economy hovercars to luxury and sports hovercars, like George's Thunder. Vero, on the other hand, is the first hovercar company of Soyuz, and specialize in affordable, robust vehicles meant to be driven hard into the ground and keep you alive after the fact.

Slipping into the driver's seat of his vehicle, George carefully floats out of the parking garage before pushing the accelerator to the floor and racing toward the air field at blistering speed. Living in a relatively rural part of Sijia's District 19, in what was once a country called Belize, George doesn't worry about being busted for speeding. Within minutes, he has made the several mile flight to the airfield and carefully parks his orange Rapid Thunder in a covered garage. He locks the car, though modern ignition technology all but eliminates car theft; old habits are hard to break.

Heading for a large hangar, he sees his crew loitering out in front. Ein, Donovan, Fiona, Gretsch, Prat, Whitley and Marcus. All but two of his crew are Voeldahn. Marcus McKraken, his engineer, is a close friend of George and has known him for years. The 27-year-old Marcus sits and works on a personal computer, the floating holographic screen, though backwards, is legible to George. Being left-handed, the human often reads and writes in a similar backwards code for his own amusement.

Marcus' clawed fingers tap the virtual keys floating just beneath the transparent, light blue screen. The Voeldahn's feline appearance is noticeable even from a great distance. His fur, tawny, cream and dark gray in color has an interesting combination of patterns. His body is covered in tawny fur, with cream on his lower jaw and chin, neck, chest and belly, as well as the balls of his digitigrade feet; he often walks around without shoes, his white claws clicking on the floor. Dark gray fur creates thin stripes that line his outer arms, legs and ribcage, leading to a singular thick stripe that runs along his spine and ends with a spot of dark gray fur at the tip of his long and slender tail.

Marcus glances up at the approaching human with his cobalt blue eyes. His shaggy, wheat colored hair hangs over to one side and partially covers an eye like a shield, while the back is cut relatively short. His opaque claws tap the screen as he saves his progress, his feline tail swaying gleefully as he finishes his work, a personal project that he has had little time for since joining his friend's crew. Rising to his feet, the 5 foot and 10-inch-tall Marcus pockets the compact personal computer as George draws near.

“Still working on that thesis paper, Mark?" George asks, patting his engineer on the shoulder.

“It's not a thesis paper. I keep telling you that." Marcus grumbles.

“I know, but I keep not-listening." George smirks.

“You're awful." Marcus chuckles.

“I love you too, buddy." George teases.

“Get married already." Fiona snickers.

“Good to see you too, babe." George grins, looking to Fiona.

Also a Voeldahn, she is a rather dainty woman at 5 feet and 2 inches tall. Canine in form, her snout is longer and more angular than Marcus', her black nose and amber eyes contrasting her brown fur. Long brown hair is brushed and drapes over her exceptionally large ears. Barely 100 pounds and with a small bust and slender figure, she has a somewhat tomboyish appearance. Her thin, wiry tail swishes as George turns to her.

“Don't call me that, sugar." Fiona chuckles.

“Whatever you say, doll." George quips.

“Can we get to work now?" Prat interrupts.

“Hold your horses. The captain says when we work." George retorts. “... Well, get to work!" He jokingly barks, pressing a button to open the sliding hangar doors.

“Finally! Time to earn!" Prat exclaims, dashing into the darkened hanger.

George and Marcus stand side-by-side, both enjoying the view as George's ship is ever so slowly illuminated by the vibrant rays of the sun. The light bounces off of the gleaming silver hull panels of the vessel as the doors slide open. An exceptionally large ship, the VK-95 'Aplomb' class transport is one of the newer and larger vessels available to the public. Registered under the name “Bannockburn", it's George's pride and joy. Considering it cost him a small fortune of 8,000,000 Sijaks, often called 'credits', the original currency of Sijia and the universally accepted currency for the last century, he takes every moment to enjoy the view.

The doors lock open and reveal the craft to the crew. The Bannockburn's hull is 130 meters long, 80 meters wide and 40 meters tall. This excludes the extended landing gears, which hold the ship a further 10 meters above the ground. The bridge is situated at the very bow of the ship, jutting out like the head of a sea turtle. It is 30 meters wide, 30 meters long and 15 meters tall, semi-circular in shape and sharply angled, like one-half of two plates stacked facing each other.

The rectangular body is only 50 meters wide, with the remaining 30 meters of width comprising two arms that hold two large, rectangular thrusters at each side and which sit at a slight downward angle, hanging near the keel of the craft. Aft of the ship, level with the upper body and on either side are two more rectangular thrusters, identical in every way to the two mounted on the angled arms. All four engines and the warp drive, mounted between the aft thrusters, run on a small-scale fission reactor.

The Bannockburn, like all other VK-95 'Aplomb' class transports, are modular craft, including the interior; George ordered his from the factory to serve as a dual-purpose vessel capable of supporting a crew for long-term space exploration and with ample storage in a large rearward cargo hold. Pneumatic doors on the keel and two sets of dual sliding airlock doors at the roof give access to the cargo area. The cargo hold sits between the crew quarters which are just behind the bridge, and before the engine room at the aft of the ship.

Prat, his head of security, uses a cardkey to open a locked external panel concealing controls. Using his thumb print as secondary authorization, he opens the keel-side loading bay doors and lowers the automatic cargo lift, allowing the crew to board the ship via the elevator. With their cargo already loaded into the ship, the crew board the Bannockburn and immediately head for the bridge to prepare for launch. It will be a swift and easy run as they aren't leaving Earth's atmosphere or even Sijia; they've been tasked with delivering industrial materials to a fledgling city across the gulf in Northern Sijia in District 14.

Taking their places, the Bannockburn's crew launch under conventional thrusters and head directly for their destination. At barely one-third-thrust they arrive in just under an hour. Landing at their designated pad, they contact the customer and prepare to unload. The crew sit around the bridge as the large cranes pull the cargo from the ship via the sliding roof airlock doors, lifting each large container crate individually. Looking through their digital bills of lading, they fully expect to be reloaded with cargo bound for one of the many lunar colonies.

“What do you mean 'there was an error'?" Donovan asks with a frustrated tone. “... Unbelievable." He murmurs.

“Problems?" Fiona turns to him.

The dark skinned and dread-locked human turns his eyes to her, a perturbed expression on his face.

“Oh yeah..." Donovan grumbles.

“What now?" George sighs.

“An 'error' caused the cargo we're waiting on to be loaded aboard the wrong ship, the one parked next to us. They need to wait for her crew to come back early from leave to unlock it and then unload the cargo before we can receive it." Donovan explains.

“What?!" Whitley growls in anger.

George merely laughs, resting his forehead in the palm of a hand.

“I love how competent these people are. Don't you?" He asks the crew.

His crew argue amongst themselves for a moment while they contemplate what to do.

“We could just go back home." Gretsch suggest.

“Don't be such a skag, woman." Prat snarls.

“Hey!" Gretch yells, taking offense.

“Watch your language, man." Marcus chimes in.

“Sorry, dad." Prat sarcastically remarks.

“What about different cargo?" Ein suggests.

“From where? This place is a dump; no industry or anything." Whitley says.

“Well we can't just waste credits flying around for nothing." Ein retorts.

“Not my credits." Fiona chuckles.

“Alright, shut up!" George yells, rising from his captain's chair.

The crew falls silent and turn to him. Though always somewhat aloof, George is an affable man; it hides the dark and ruthless persona that he had long ago developed during his childhood in the slums. Though gifted with a deep well of patience and a cool head, he is quick to employ violence whenever he considers it necessary, never once considering it a personal matter to break someone's nose or arm. George has also been known to draw his blaster at the slightest provocation. As gentle and friendly as he may seem, his crew know better than to interrupt or question him.

“We'll sit and wait for them to do whatever it was that Donovan said. It won't take all day, and if it does, I'll pay you anyway." George begins.

“Yes." Fiona whispers, pulling down at an invisible rope.

“So, what should we do in the meantime, boss-man?" Marcus asks.

“Take a break!" George exclaims.

“Can do!" Fiona replies as she leans back in her chair.

Rising to his feet, George heads for the airlock doors of the bridge, which also doubles as an emergency shuttle.

“Where are you going?" Ein asks, also standing up.

“To the nearest bar." George replies.

“Finally started drinking, eh?" Gretsch smirks.

“You know me better than that. I'm going for a bite to eat. I feel like a cheeseburger. Anyone want to come?" George asks.

He looks around the room as his crew all collectively turn away and pretend to look busy to spite him.

“Forget you then!" George smirks. “Call me if they magically come through for us."

“Will do." Donovan sighs, putting on a pair of V.I. linked glasses.

Heading for the cargo hold, George violates safety protocol by hitching a ride on a ground level container crate. Climbing atop the crate, he holds on while the crane lifts it through the top of his ship and over 60 meters into the air before lowering it to the ground.

“What are you doing?!" A dock worker exclaims as George leaps down from the roof of the crate.

“Leaving the ship?" George replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Does your captain know you pull stunts like that?!" The dock worker yells.

“Yes, I do, and I've reprimanded myself many time; I just don't listen." George quips.

The dock worker seems confused, his ears twitching and eyes narrowing. With a roll of his eyes, George holds up his captain's badge, which also doubles as the Bannockburn's master key. The Voeldahn worker suddenly realizes who he is addressing, his bushy tail hanging low.

“Just uh... Be more careful... Sir." The dock worker murmurs.

“Sure." George chuckles.

Leaving the air field, he hitches a ride via taxi to the edge of town and stops at the nearest bar and grill. Entering the bar, he admires the somewhat dated atmosphere. The establishment has a distinctly apocalyptic theme, which it clearly holds firmly to. It is barely noon and few patrons sit within the bar. His pleasant grin immediately fades as his eyes land on a disturbing sight. Across the room sits two Voeldahn patrons. A rather dainty looking feline woman seems to argue with a drunk and seemingly aroused rabbit man.

Quickly scanning the pair, George can't help but look over the woman's figure. In an instant, he admires her subtle hourglass frame, her white fur with black tiger-like stripes and long, straight black hair which is parted at the middle and reaches to the bottom of her shoulder blades, roughly as long as his.

“Come on, babe." The drunk slurs his words as he pleads with her.

“Just leave me alone." She repeatedly refuses him.

“You know you want to." He growls as he grabs her upper arm.

“Hey, let go!" She snaps.

Though she sounds strong and confident as she pulls away, George can't help but detect a subtle whimper hidden in her response. He can feel his blood starting to boil, made worse by the two bartenders who ignore the situation entirely, even though one is also a woman. As the two patrons start a mild scuffle at their seats, George immediately steps in.

“Hey." He says, tapping the man on a shoulder.

Turning back, the man is greeted by human who suddenly grabs his arm and flings him away from the woman and over the bar counter. Landing with a thud, the Voeldahn man groans, one of his large ears flopping over an eye as he lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling.

“What happened?" He chokes out.

With a little smile, George wipes his hands together before claiming the drunk's seat beside the woman. The bartenders glance over their shoulders at the pair, before looking down at the man lying at their feet. They promptly return to cleaning glasses and checking their inventory. The woman looks over to her savior with apprehension, on the verge of dismissing him entirely. Not only does he not make any comments or attempt to flirt with her, he doesn't even look at her once. He waits for a moment before whistling at the bartender as though he were a pet dog, gaining his attention.

“What'll it be, slugger?" The male bartender asks with a blank stare.

“Hey there, smiley. A cheeseburger and cola." George replies.

“How original... I'm so glad to have a customer who thinks outside of the box." The bartender sighs.

“Yeah, I'm pretty dim bulb." George smirks.

The bartender appears to crack a faint smile before quickly eradicating it in favor of his dour demeanor. He promptly pours a cola from a retractable spout built into a rear counter.

“Here's your sugary acid-water. Your delicious heart attack will be right out, sir." The bartender mockingly smiles.

“Thanks, smiley. You do good work and with such a wonderful attitude. Keep it up." George retorts.

Though he pays her no attention, the young feline Voeldahn woman can't help but find an appeal in the snarky human. He looks like a cross between a rock star and a serial murderer, but his personality peaks her curiosity and pulls her in. As much as she thinks that she should avoid speaking to him, she cannot help herself.

"I didn't need a knight in shining armor, you know." She finally remarks.

“Good thing I'm not wearing armor." George replies.

Her lips begin to curl into a tiny grin.

“Seriously, I can handle myself." She says sternly.

"I believe you can." George replies.

"So why did you help me?" She asks, raising a brow.

"You look like you can handle yourself, but I knew that he would have won that fight." George pauses to take a drink from his cola. “Besides, you're far too pretty to lose." He bluntly answers, setting down the glass.

She turns away and struggles to subdue her growing smile, though her lips still curl at the corners of her short snout. George glances over to her, though he never turns his head. He sees her expression; it bolsters his own confidence.

"Well, I appreciate the helping hand." She says.

"Anytime, miss...?"

"May." She murmurs.

"Like the month?" George asks.

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm George. A pleasure to meet you, May." He politely bows his head.

They sit beside each other for a moment, saying nothing as they slowly sip their drinks. Glancing back at the human several times, May can't help but feel further drawn to him. Perhaps it was his prompt aid, his pleasant demeanor, or perhaps it's the soft tone of his voice when he speaks?

"So... What brings you out to the middle of nowhere?" She asks, again breaking the silence.

"Well, I'm waiting for some cargo before finishing a run and heading back home." He replies, taking another sip of his drink.

"Oh? So, you're a delivery guy?" She asks with a subtle laugh.

"Something like that." George replies.

The bartender steps over the now loudly snoring drunk to set down a plate containing a greasy looking cheeseburger.

“Here you go. Enjoy... If you can." The bartender says in a dry monotone.

“I love your sunny disposition, smiley. So chipper!" George quips.

“Yeah, I get that a lot." The bartender sighs before walking away.

“Right... Well, anyway, I'm more like a delivery captain, who owns his own ship." George says to May before taking a bite of his meal.

May's ears perk, her curiosity growing.

"You own a spaceship?!" She asks with surprise.

"I certainly do. I started a local delivery business out of my hovervan. One thing led to another, a few years went by, and now I have a VK-95 'Aplomb' class transport. I bought it new. My crew didn't feel like coming along, and I'm not enough of a drogo to force them to keep me company." He explains.

"Huh... And here I thought you were just a gentlemanly box monkey." She smirks.

"Hey, that's 'box human'." He grins.

"Apologies." She giggles.

"So, what brings you here?" George asks, just as eager to continue their dialog.

"Besides a strong Liberty Ale?" She holds up her glass.

"Yeah."

"I lost my job, I have nowhere to go and nothing else to do." She bluntly explains.

“Aren't you honest." George chuckles.

May doesn't reply. Her expression changes as she reflects on her personal life. She sets the glass down atop the counter. Leaning forward on her elbows, she stares into the remnants of the glass and lets out a sigh of frustration. George watches her for a moment and his heart aches for the girl as her eyes stare blankly into the mug. For some reason he is drawn to her like a moth to a flame; a stranger whose pain cuts him as deeply as if it were his own.

"What did you do before?" He asks her softly.

"I worked for a chartering company..." She answers, still staring into her glass.

Her vague response does not give him the necessary details, but he hesitates to press the matter.

"I see..." He murmurs.

He struggles with a dichotomy inside of him; invest himself in this strange, alluring and downright attractive Voeldahn woman, or finish his cheeseburger and cola before walking away. It takes until his next bite before he has made up his mind.

"Well... Do you need a job? There's room on my crew."

May turns her head to him, a shocked look on her face.

"We don't even know each other." She comments.

"Most bosses don't know their employees at first." George retorts.

"Well... True, but... ... Are you sure?!" She asks with a distinct tone of disbelief.

"Hey, if you don't want to cruise around with me and my crew in my spaceship..." He says as he turns back to his food and drink.

"I didn't say that, I just..." She hesitates to speak further.

"Well, it isn't glamorous. You'd be with a box human and all of his box Voeldahn... Delivering boxes... It's honest credits though, and you don't seem to have anything better to do."

May looks at her glass as she contemplates her options. She walked into the bar with enough Sijaks to purchase this drink. She has nothing going for her and no one to care about what happens to her; this is the bottom of the barrel. However, she would have to trust a total stranger, a man clearly capable of physical violence and a human no-less. As she turns her vibrant blue eyes to him, she can't help but feel drawn in by him. His mere presence makes her feel more at ease than she can ever recall. She doesn't understand why, but she doesn't question it.

The thought of working on a real spaceship with a real crew is enticing, not to mention the credits she'll be earning from the work. As pleasant as his offer is, her lips curl at the thought of spending her time near her would-be captain. She can't deny that there is at least a base attraction.

"Alright! You've got yourself a new crewmember!" She happily exclaims, reaching across her chest to shake his hand.

Taking hold of her hand, his grip is gentle yet firm; she has the distinct impression that he is both honest and trustworthy.

"Well, whenever you're ready." He grins. “After I'm done with this, of course." He quickly adds, looking back at his food.

May's excitement gets the better of her and she speaks at length about her past experiences in her former work, all the while looking over the friendly human as he eats the greasy cheeseburger. At the end of his meal, he slips a rechargeable credit chit into the slot of the chit reader and to the surprise of May and the bland, emotionless bartender, George leaves him a tip; he pays for May's drink, just to be kind. George uses his V.I. bracelet to hail a taxi. Leaving the bar, he glances over and takes a closer look at the woman. She stands around 5 feet and 5 inches tall, with a slender frame and modest bust, probably weighing around 115 pounds.

“Do you need to stop anywhere first and get anything?" George asks her.

“I uh... I don't really... Have much of anything." She admits, her ears lowering and her eyes turning down to her feet as though ashamed.

“Hey, don't worry about it. You'll get all new stuff." He says cheerfully.

Riding the taxi to the airfield, George can't help but grin as May's eyes light up and her jaw hangs open at the sight of the only spaceship at the field. The second ship mistakenly loaded with their cargo is notably absent, yet his crew didn't call him. He clandestinely checks his V.I. bracelet to be sure; no messages or missed calls. He shakes his head at their antics, all the while May stares in awe at the vessel.

“THAT'S your ship?!" May exclaims.

“Sure is." George replies.

“It's huge!" She remarks.

“It's always nice to hear a woman say that." He murmurs.

Unsure if she believes him, he holds up the distinctive captain's badge and master key, a well-known symbol of his status as a ship captain. Paying the driver, he leads the woman to the bay door. At least his crew was thoughtful enough to leave the loading bay open for him. As he activates the cargo lift, Whitley scrambles from around the corner of a nearby building.

“Hey!" He yells at the pair. “Stop!"

“Did you hear something?" George turns to May.

She shakes her head, her cold blue eyes turned upward and locked onto his.

“Wait for me!" Whitley cries out, flailing his arms as he runs.

The lift locks in place and the duo step off. George leads her through the now reloaded cargo hold, down a hall lined with several important rooms and toward the bridge, giving her a brief tour as they progress through the innards. Opening the airlock doors to the bridge, they step inside, to the surprise of George's crew.

“We were just about to call you." Fiona says.

“Sure, you were, babe." George mutters.

“Where's Whitley?" Prat asks, spinning in his chair for amusement.

“I don't know." George shrugs.

“He went outside for a while to get some fresh air." Donovan adds.

“Well that explains the lift." May murmurs.

“Whatever. He'll slither his way back inside." George says with a dismissive hand wave.

“So, who's this little thing?" Fiona asks, approaching the two.

“Oh, right. May, this is the crew. Crew, this is May. She's a trained navigator and dispatcher." George explains.

“We have both of those already..." Donovan remarks.

“Correction, we just lost our dispatcher because you've been promoted to security. Congratulations!" George exclaims.

“Hey, thanks for leaving me out there you bunch of..." Whitley growls as he storms inside.

He immediately stops when he sees May standing near the door, his eyes scanning her frame.

“Oh... Well, hello there! So, who's this little th-"

“Shut up and sit down, Whitley." George orders.

The portly, ginger haired human immediately falls silent and heads for his seat. Donovan doesn't question George, though as he rises from his seat May can see that Donovan is easily 6 inches taller or more than his captain and rather well built. Equally intimidating looking, if not more so than George, Donovan obeys his captain without question. He takes an empty seat on the port side of the bridge, adjusting a chair near a console consisting entirely of shut down monitors.

“So... As security, what do I do?" Donovan asks.

“Hang out and look scary, Mr. Craig." George replies.

“Is this all you've been doing, Prat? ... Lucky." Donovan chuckles, leaning back in his seat.

“Hey man, sitting is hard work." Prat smirks.

“Wait... Does this mean Prat is my supervisor?" Donovan asks in horror.

“Eh." George shrugs his shoulders.

“Thank God." Donovan sighs with relief.

“Pfft. Whatever." Prat scoffs.

May grows nervous as she clips the small dispatcher's headset directly to her feline ear. Though the communications control board looks similar to the dispatch center where she used to work, she has never been aboard a spaceship before. As the thrusters engage, Ein mans the controls. Fiona sets the course and Gretsch and Marcus keep tabs on Bannockburn's systems. The hum of the thrusters soothes her nerves, which are abruptly rattled by the inertia of the ship's launch. Gripping tightly to the communication's console, May glances toward Fiona who seems to silently chuckle at her inexperience.

Breaking through the atmosphere and into the dark void of space, the ship seems to fall silent. May's jaw lowers as she stares out of the front windows, staring into a blackness dotted with the faint light of countless stars.

“You've never been in space before, have you?" Ein asks, glancing over to May.

“No."

“Then this will really be cool." Ein grins, flipping several switches.

“Prepare the hyper-drive." George casually orders.

“Already done, sir." Ein replies.

“Now what did you do that for? You're stealing my one thing; telling you what to do and then watching you do it." George jests.

“Sorry sir." Ein chuckles.

“... Well?" George asks after a pause.

“Well what, sir?" Ein asks.

“Well, make the jump."

“Yes, sir. I didn't want to steal your thing this time around." Ein smiles as he presses several more buttons. “hyper-drive initiating in 3... 2... 1..."

Flipping open a protective plexiglass cover, he pressed a large blue button. The ship hums loudly for a moment as a spectacular cyan and pink swirling light emerges before the ship, bending like water flowing over a short waterfall. May has never seen such a beautiful sight as the light glows brightly and wraps around the front of the ship and presumably covering the rest of it as well. Encased within the warp bubble, she feels no inertia of any kind but can see the speed at which they are traveling. The distorted image of the moon draws closer and closer, growing larger before her eyes.

“Wow..." She murmurs.

“Yeah, that never gets old." George comments.

After what seems like only a moment, but is in reality about 10 minutes, Ein disengages the warp drive as the moon is now close enough to encompass the entirety of their vision from the windows. Now her time to prove herself, May promptly activates her console and hails the dome city that slowly comes into view as Ein flies low over the moon's gleaming surface. George doesn't bother to give orders, content to rest a cheek on his coiled fingers, his elbow resting on the armrest of his captain's chair as he watches them work.

Receiving a prompt reply from the traffic controller, the Bannockburn is granted authorization to land; May relays the access codes which Fiona types into her console. Flying carefully through the unusually small airlock bay, they land at the adjacent airfield where a crane already awaits them. May takes off her headset and sits back as the ship's landing gear touches down. Though nervous and out of her element, she is quite pleased with herself and her professional performance. Rising from his chair, George stands beside her and flashes a warm smile, nodding once.

“That was good work." He compliments her.

“Thanks. I do what I can." She casually replies.

“Nothing I couldn't have done..." Donovan murmurs.

“Yeah, but she looked a lot better doing it." George retorts.

May feels herself flush beneath her fur. Without saying another word, the crew rise from their seats and exit the bridge. May is quick to follow.

“Where are we going?" She asks George.

“This job will take a while, so we're going to loiter for a bit. Prat likes to get thrown out of a bar in each city we travel to; it's a personal tradition." George explains.

The crew ride the cargo lift down to the landing pad below. Suddenly they all split off and head their separate ways, but George stays behind. Standing beside May who has never left Earth, let alone her district, he glances over at the nervous young woman.

“24 years and this is the first time I've been to the moon." She remarks.

“Nervous?" He asks.

“A little." She admits.

“Well, don't worry." He begins, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “I'll be here for you."

She turns and looks up at him, taking a single step closer. His warm smile is quite comforting. Smiling back, she rests a hand on his arm, giving him a light squeeze.

“Thanks George... Captain." She says softly.

They stand there in silence and look at each other, though the moment doesn't feel awkward for either of them. Their pleasant stare is suddenly interrupted by the chiming of George's V.I. bracelet. With a frustrated sigh, he looks down as he brings the device up to his chest. James has finally replied. He opens the text message.

“Call me on a secured channel, ASAP."

Though perplexed by his younger brother's request, he ignores it. Waiting for a moment so that James might think that he encrypted the call, he then speed-dials his brother's V.I. code. May steps aside as it begins to ring; though he never told her too or made any motion hinting that she should, she gives him a modicum of privacy.

“Hello?" James voice answers.

“Yeah?" George says.

“Who's this?" James asks.

“Wha..." George glares at his bracelet. “You know who this is! Now what's going on?" He barks.

“Okay, sorry. Just being careful... This is a secured line, right?"

“Uh... Yeah, sure. So, what's up?" George replies.

“You were headed to a lunar colony soon, right?" James asks.

“I'm on the moon right now. Why?" George replies.

“Oh, great! I need you to do me a big favor..."