---Together---

  ---Victor’s perspective---

  I’m sitting in the private capsule we’re riding back in, my belly full of pancakes, my arm around my wife and very satisfied from a fun honeymoon and a wonderful start to married life!

  I do slightly wish it could’ve lasted just a bit longer but I also understand that the ship can’t just wait for us forever(!)

  Just going by my own internal clock, I’d guess us to be getting near Tuun’s mums’ place… a feeling confirmed by the craft starting to shed altitude.

  A thought occurs to me.

  “Hey, babe? You ain’t turned your signal back on yet, have you?” I ask Tuun.

  A very slight frown passes across her face and she answers “I haven’t. Have you?”

  “Nope… We should probably do that now we’re reentering society an’ all(!)…” I say, pulling out my holo and quipping “…Let’s just hope we ain’t got a million missed messages about some emergency that happened immediately after we left(!)”

  My thumb presses the button that turns the thing in my hand back into a communication device for the first time in two weeks.

  Surprise (followed by alarm) hits me as I watch the message and missed call notification counters immediately skyrocket to numbers far higher than I would’ve expected from a normal two week span, let alone two weeks where everyone close to me knew I’d be out of communication (and anyone else would’ve learned that from the autoresponse I set up.)

  What the hell’s going on!?

  I glance over at Tuun and see walls of Norse text flying by on her screen at a speed that would keep me from reading it even if it was in English.

  Turning my eyes from there to her face, I see a look of shocked disbelief taking hold as she reads.

  “What’s-?”

  “Oh my Gods…” she cuts me off, shellshocked.

  She turns her face away from me, out the window, as we start coming down vertically.

  “OH MY GODS!!!” she shrieks at a volume and intensity I’ve never heard from her.

  “Babe! What’s happening!?!?!?” I ask, terrified!

  Instead of answering me, she darts over to the craft’s door on her side and immediately starts trying to wrestle it open despite the fact that we’ve still got to be 20m in the air.

  “It ain’t gonna let you out till it’s safe for you to get out, Tuun!” I say, holding my hands next to her shoulders and ready to catch her (just on the off-chance I’m wrong) while, at the same time, looking past her up the hill to the meadhall to see what might’ve put her in this state.

  I just see her mums and siblings appearing in the doors.

  Wait…

  She only has two Don siblings, right?

  Who’s that taller Don woman who’s just pushed through to stand at the front?

  We touchdown.

  The door releases causing Tuun to spill out of it so fast she actually stumbles before instantly recovering and sprinting up the slope faster than I’ve ever seen her move!

  The stranger takes off towards her, matching her beeline over the dark green grass.

  I follow after her.

  The two women collide a few metres off the curved path.

  My wife screams as she wraps her arms around the woman more than a head taller than her.

  The two women sink to their knees together as my wife wails and sobs in a way that’s ripping my heart into tiny pieces with the sympathy pains it’s causing!

  I draw to only a few metres away before stopping dead where I stand.

  If this woman is who I think … Well… I don’t want to make this moment all about me, that’s for sure!

  The taller woman’s dressed in a modest beige jumpsuit.

  She has short, uranian blue hair, like Baasa’s.

  Her subtly striped, tearstained face is… uncannily familiar…

  And that’s not the only bit of uncanniness I can spot on her.

  Her claws are all too thick and blunt, as if they’re brand new and haven’t been refined by the catscratching I know Tuun uses to keep hers sharp.

  One of her ears is just a little too smooth.

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  Her loving smile reveals four fangs that it takes me a moment to work out what the problem with is… They’re pristinely sharp… unnaturally sharp!

  This stranger has obviously just had some pretty horrific injuries regenned away!

  I stand there, feeling completely powerless, as I watch my wife incoherently bawling into the chest of a woman who, if I’m right, has just effectively come back to her from the dead…

  ---Alchyinad’s perspective---

  “Come in.” I call out, my tone suitably sombre.

  The door opens and the room is lit up by the bodyheat of a large, dazed looking Terran.

  The man (who understandably seems to lack rather a lot of the mental bandwidth necessary for proper articulation at the moment) looks to me and says “Uhm… err… Hey, Ally… Cap said you… She thought you were… Can you see me now?”

  “I can, Victor. Please come in.” I invite, not restating the fact that I specifically blocked out this time in anticipation of this appointment being necessary, as it seems Tcakqaal has spared me the need.

  The bright man lumbers into the room with none of his normal grace or economy of motion.

  He collapses on the sofa in the manner of someone who has just run an ultramarathon.

  I give him a few moments to catch his breath before I lean forward to place my elbows on the desk, tenting my manipulators in front of me and stretching my volators behind my back.

  “Tell me what happened, Victor.” I invite, calmly.

  “They… it’s… erm…” he stumbles, haphazardly.

  I don’t push him to calm down, simply allowing him the time and space necessary to produce the words.

  Eventually, he manages “Tuun’s mum… Her birth mum… She’s back!… She’s not dead!… ’Parently been a slave on her homeworld for the last two decades… Oh!… And her homeworld is apparently also Bastion… and she wasaslaveofCyrus himself!” getting more frantic as he speaks.

  I nod and calmly observe “That’s quite the tonne of bricks you’ve been hit with, Victor.”

  Still visibly stressed the man scans about himself as if looking out for something that needs to be fought as he continues “There’s motions goin’ through every planetary council in the UTC to authoriseamilitaryexpedition to DonOlu right now! Emiko’s already floatedanew contract the Bright Plume’s way for thediplomatic side of things and Cap’s been waitin’ for me togetbacksoIcansignoffonputtin’thevotetothecrew! It’s…”

  I let my client talk as he rapidfires his every thought on the situation he was just enlightened to.

  I do my best to take in every detail of his phrasing, aided in this endeavour by already being up to speed myself.

  I don’t interrupt.

  I don’t tell him to calm down.

  I don’t tell him to stop and take deep breaths but I do watch him as his breathing and heartrate increase and he fills the air with the smell of apocrine sweat.

  I let his panic response crest and break while modelling calm regulation.

  At the point he has run out of breath, I leave a moment of silence.

  Finally, I speak.

  “You say Tcakqaal just wants you to ‘sign off’ on holding the vote for the crew… Is that how she phrased it?” I ask, without accusation.

  I’m reasonably sure that is not what she said but calling his attention to the discrepancy seems to be the best foothold for now.

  “No… no it ain’t… She wanted me to risk assess the mission… If I think it ain’t gonna be safe, I’ve got the option to veto it… If I give the all clear, we’ll hold a vote… She actually did a pretty good job of not pushin’ me one way or the other…” he pants, slightly calmer than before.

  “That sounds to me like she values both your input and your competence, Victor.” I suggest.

  “Mmmh.” he grunts, noncommittally.

  I study him briefly and consider a change in tack.

  “Alright, Victor… Why don’t we list pros and cons? Tell me every reason you can think of not to accept this proposed mission to DonOlu?”

  He stares at me for a moment, thinking.

  Eventually, his hand comes up to begin counting “It’s a military incursion against a planet and species whose government at least have made it repeatedly clear they don’t want outside contact… It’ll be at best an uneasy system occupation and at worst an active warzone… There’s potential for this ship to become a target of attacks, either incident’ly since we’re outsiders who’re there or specific’ly because we’re there in a diplomatic capacity and they wanna send a message ’bout what they think of that… We might be contributin’ to future normalisation of Terran imperialism by settin’ the precedent that, if we don’t like what you’re doin’, we can just invade your planet and force you to stop!… We might be provokin’ the GU by invadin’ a neutral planet, even if it ain’t a GU member…”

  Five fingers extended, he seems to run out of cons.

  I don’t yet point out exactly how likely I think a Terran imperialist culture arising from this precedent is, based on my experience of having lived through the War and its aftermath, rather, I invite “Now can you tell me every reason you can think of to accept it, Victor?”

  He gives an exhausted sigh “Well, if it ain’t us, it’ll be someone else who might not have our skills and definitely won’t have the rapport with the ODR contractors that comes from havin’ just come off a multiyear contract with ’em… We’ll be goin’ there to do our best to catch slaving, terrorist, Human supremacist scum who, if they get there way, will do massively more harm to the galaxy than invadin’ one neutral planet… We’re goin’ there to free slaves if we can… We’re goin’ there to expose a corrupt conspiracy among the elites that, from what I understand, most Don know nothin’ about… A conspiracy which already violates their laws ’bout outside contact and presence on their planet… I mostly trust the ODR and the Navy to keep us safe… And…”

  He stops here, agonising.

  Not wanting to let selfconsciousness keep him from stating whatever this final point is, I gently prompt “And, Victor?”

  Slightly ashamed, he confesses “They took Tuun’s parents… Her mum for nearly 20 years, her dad forever… I don’t wanna let them get away with that.”

  “I see… and you think this personal motivation is somehow less legitimate than the others.” I state, not worrying about putting words in his mouth and more concerned with unteasing the reasoning behind it.

  “Isn’t it?” he spits, angry but clearly more at himself than at me.

  “No, Victor.” I correct “It’s a consideration. No more or less legitimate than the others for being personal and nonobjective. It must be considered and weighted alongside them. It’s dangerous to let shame keep you from properly evaluating a reason you’ve judged illegitimate. Just because you don’t allow yourself to understand it, does not mean it won’t be influencing your choices. Better to look at it in the cold light of day, Victor.”

  ---Fluffy’s perspective---

  I’m curled up on the soft [nest] in [Daddy’s] [sleep cave].

  The [horizon] is good here now, not bright, not dim.

  The [cave mouth] opens.

  I lift my head and open my eyes.

  Excited to see [Daddy] standing their, I streak off the nest and over to him.

  Wait!

  Hang on!

  I’m angry at him, aren’t I!

  [Daddy] hasn’t been together with me for so many [Daddy sleeps]!

  I’ve only had [aunties] and [uncles] for a long time!

  I begin growling a reproach when his top [paw] comes to my head, between my ears, and it dies in my throat as he starts scritching me.

  “Hei, gherw…” [growls] [Daddy], sadly “…Ai mistyu tu!”

  Something’s not right.

  “Tuunz daun inva miidoll wivvermamz tunaitan Aiv gottuh disizhontu meiktu morou… Allisez Ai shud sliiponit.” he [growls], bending down to wrap his arms around the back of my neck and filling my nose with the smell of his [sad] as his body judders “Wiwyu stei irwivmi, gherw?”

  Tuun & Torul

  tu! =

  Hey, girl… I missed you too!

  Tuun's down in the meadhall with her mums tonight and I've got a decision to make tomorrow… Ally says I should sleep on it.

  stei irwivmi, gherw? =

  Will you stay here with me, girl?