Can't Take the Stars From Us

Something was off.

Volkenstein felt his eyes snap open of their own accord, accompanied by a weighty and disturbing sensation of nausea. It felt as if someone had strapped him into a merry-go-round and thrown it off a cliff. Definitely not how you usually wake up.

There was no grogginess, nor any sort of heavy handed morning blues, just a gut wrenching sickness. Blinking a few times and steadying his strangely laboured breathing, the young man took a brief look around.

This wasn’t his room.

Where plastered walls and mellow paint should have been, there was only seamless metallic surfaces. Atop those imposing and spotless panes there was a fine spread of pipes, valves, and bolts. Conflicting with the utilitarian feeling of the room was the sensation of fine cotton beneath his hands, alongside a heavenly well-fluffed pillow against his head.

Rather than spend his time admiring the quality of the bedding, Volk swung around so that his legs were dangling off the bed. Looking over at the other side of the room proper, he noticed a fine seam indented into the opposite wall. He presumed that was the door. Looking down at himself, the confused Briton noticed his common clothes were still there. At least he had something familiar besides his own skin.

Sweat slid off his brow. His chest felt tight and uneasy.

“Where am I?” he wondered aloud. Encroaching panic set in on him as he vainly attempted to remember how he came to be here. Standing and walking over to the opposing wall, he jumped back in shock as part of it slid open before him. Before he left, however, the unnerved Irishman noticed something odd. Picking up a thin metal slate and turning to leave once more, he was surprised as it suddenly turned on.

‘Locate your Captain’ was the message running across the top of the screen, with a map beneath it. Looking both ways as he exited the small room, a chill ran up his spine. The hallway looked as if it stretched on infinitely... and nobody was using it.

The sound of his footsteps ringing out down the corridor was maddening; a steady beat with no end it seemed. Sharp clapping almost, a discordant crowd of spectators watching from afar. Where am I? The clapping became a steady roar as Volk started to pick up the pace. Where am I? His breath became heavier as his pupils shrank and his walking pace became a panicked jog. Where am I? Adrenaline burned down his veins as the seemingly unending white hall, white lights, and continuous sound of him and him alone began to erode his state of mind.

Where is everyone‽

“You have arrived,” Volk read softly aloud from his tablet. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking deep breaths at the interruption to his silent torment. Taking a glance back down, he noticed the tablet now displayed an arrow pointing to his left.

He turned his head, and saw a door much like the one that sealed his room. Gulping—and taking a few more shaky breaths—he approached. With a gentle hiss and whoosh, the door slid aside, beckoning him inside. Steeling himself the best he could, he entered.

It felt as if he’d stepped into an open-air plaza. Rising up and up went a series of columns and stairways, with rows of seats filling the mighty space from top-to-bottom. The huge space was barely filled, with people who were just as lost as Volkenstein was sitting around in disarray. His confusion and alarm lessened slightly as he saw one or two familiar faces.

Looking around briefly he made his way over to a nearby chair, and sat down in the cold, hard leather. He looked at the tablet again and the only thing displayed there was 'Waiting for group'. As Volkenstein scooted against the back of the chair, the screen changed. Now it read 'Preparing’.

Whatever conversations had filled the ghastly air died down as the lights dimmed, and the ceiling slid open ever so slightly to reveal a small sphere. As it began to spin, a holographic projection was cast into the middle of the cavernous space, and all eyes were upon it. However, whatever it was meant to be was... lost. The projection was merely a mess of glitching shapes and endlessly repeating startup symbols.

“Greetings to you all, Children of Gaia,” came a booming and distinctively male voice. “It is of bitter regret that we can no longer meet in person as first intended... and this recording will have to suffice.” Volk felt much calmer hearing that for some reason. He relaxed his shoulders.

“Had things gone as planned, we would have briefed you personally. However, preparations took too long, and the final stages have begun.” A brief glimpse of an arm waving dismissively came through in the projection, before returning to the jumbled and chaotic mess. “You have been chosen to take part in a journey. It will will test not only you, but the rest of humanity as a whole.”

Some hushed conversation resumed, albeit barely, as if speech would cause the projection to disappear. “I have searched for more time than I care to admit, my fellows leaving the hopeless work to me. However in the end I found you amongst the many other candidates, a perfect match for our ambition.”

As if the recording was actually a transmission, it seemed to pick up on the general mood. “I understand, however, that most of you will imagine this too great a task, but I believe in you. I believe in your species, humans. This is an unfair thing to ask, and I’m sorry, but I expect you will find unfathomable wisdom, bravery and talent in each and every one of yourselves; you just have to look hard enough.”

Gentle, yet bitter laughter echoed from the recording. “I must admit, I have sent this message in a hurry, and I do not know if it will be received properly. My equipment here is... less than suitable.” His laughter turned of a more melancholy kind. “Then again, you may herald my current setup as a technological feat.” The laughter stopped. “But I’m sure you’ll do wonderful things with what I’ve left you. Humanity always have.”

Each and every tablet in the room lit up with a diagram suddenly. “I have left the base you are currently within, long since forgotten by my own kind, to you. I was unable to arrive and will be still; due to unforeseen circumstances, so rest assured that you will be safe there.” The speaker took in a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and continued. “For now.”

“Sons and Daughters of Gaia, you will not be alone.” Part of the base diagram lit up suddenly. “I have left to you the resources to achieve the first of your goals, and something more precious...” Volk’s tablet now showed some kind of mechanical cross section, as he assumed the other’s did, too. “On your journey you will encounter many new species. I have left to you one that we made ourselves; the Meld.” New information was divulged upon the tablets as the hologram continued. “They will help you achieve your greatest goals. Treat them well.”

Before Volkenstein even had time to process all the new information, his tablet then showed him a galax- no, a universal map. “My people have not been everywhere, but our influence spread wide, and we know of many others. There is no doubt you will find new species as you travel the stars. I know that you will do what is right when the time comes.”

Then, just as the mood of the room seemed to have mellowed, a new development arrived. “Humans, do not search for us, do not search for me.” These words were absolute. “Any attempts to contact us, to find us, will be in vain.” The voice echoing throughout the chamber became a low, more subdued tone. “We have fought an unimaginable darkness with great ferocity and extreme prejudice, but ultimately we have failed. It is up to you to stop them, and I have unwavering faith in you.” The projection began to still. “I sincerely hope you... escape the horror they have inflicted upon us.”

Somewhere, far off it seemed, the sound of a deep and low rumble became background noise. The speaker seemingly paid no mind. “In return for the burden I have placed upon you, I have gifted you libraries and creations of Humanity.” Confusion over the last word was, apparently, shared throughout the room. “I cannot make use of this knowledge, for it is intended for you and you alone. Alongside these libraries are some of our own. I hope the knowledge of my people—the Wripeks—serves you well.”

Splintering steel and the shuddering of foundations boomed throughout the room, and in the final moments of the recording, a silhouette could be made out. “It is my end, unfortunately,” said the vigil. “My time is up, and yours has just begun; yet upon this eve, I have only one thing to say.” As the hologram turned to look at something, even with its distortion, a definite smile could be seen. “Nuts!”

It cut out.

Suddenly, a thousand voices called out with a mixed tidal wave of anger, sadness, confusion, and pure terror. Discord ruled in the courtroom as the so called ‘chosen’ devolved into disarray and bickering.

Volk sat back in his seat, somewhat thankful he was far away from others. His mind was racing at an insane pace as it tried to piece together what had just occurred. Children of Gaia? Holograms? The death of some alien civilization? This has to be some kind of joke...

But it wasn’t a joke; it was far too real to be any kind of conceivable trick. In fact, every cell in his body felt as if it were screaming at him to curl up somewhere and hide. However, he couldn’t hide. He had no right to hide. Even then, even when he knew exactly why he was here, his arms still shook and his teeth still chattered.

Whilst the young Irishman had been focusing on himself, an entirely new kind of row had broken out in one of the upper segments of the room. Somewhere far above him two men had gotten into an argument, and it didn’t look to be good. From the way everyone else was staring, they’d also realized this.

One of them was red haired with a pair of well made glasses set on his nose, his all-round form seemingly normal compared to the other before him. He was wearing a creased shirt and a set of navy blue jeans. Just to the right of him, however, was a rather pugnacious and stocky man, who towered just slightly above him; with dark brown hair.

Before Volkenstein could even comprehend why they were at one-another's throats, the latter lashed out. The strike was so fast you’d have missed it if you blinked. He brought his shoulder and jab hand backwards simultaneously whilst throwing his dominant hand forwards, pushing off his back foot and twisting his hips. The dynamite straight collided with the well dressed smart’s face, slugging him right in the cheek.

Just as the redhead readied himself for another blow, a resounding below hurtled across the entire room. “Stop this incessant fighting at once, you idiots!” Both men stopped mid-action to look over at the shout which had pierced the commotion, and likewise, many others quietened down. “We have a situation on our hands, and it’s time we got to grips with it. I want all captains to report to stay in this room with me. Everyone else, I recommend you get to know one another.”

“It’s going to be a long day.”

“Now that we're assembled, we can try to make some sense as to what the hell's going on here. But first, introductions. I'm John Hood.”

The speaker adjusted his shirt and jacket. He looked to the young man on his left, who was of mixed arabic-asian origins wearing a simple red baseball cap and rectangular lens shaped glasses. Having been shoved into the spotlight, he shyly waved in greeting.

“Uh, hi. My name’s Mel,” he said with a nervous smile.

He scratched behind his head in awkwardness before he said, “But, uh... if I had to make a guess from Hood here then you all know me better as War King.” There was a long silence between everyone in the hall. Mel began to sweat, biting his lips hoping his little theory paid off. “With—you know—a seventy-six...?”

“How come he’s the only one wearing a damn hat?”

As he caught the voice who spoke his name, Mel turned toward the speaker and found himself making eye contact with a brute of a man; one of the perpetrators of the fight mere minutes ago. If he had not been smiling ever so slightly, the overwhelmingly unenthusiastic baseball fan would have assumed he was pissed.

Mel fliched at the sight of the large man but stood firm soon after. He scratched behind his neck with a lax expression plastered across his features. “I always wear my lucky cap.” He adjusted his mentioned baseball cap. “Caps are neat,” he replied flatly.

“I’d rather wear a beanie, saves your ears falling off when winter skullfucks you.” He looked Mel over slowly, nodding to himself as if some kind of mental checklist was being ticked off. “Well, you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be. I’m Hauler.”

Nobody said anything.

Unfortunately for our gullible friend the name had not ring any bells in his mind, and as he checked to see if anyone else knew, he found himself alone. “Er, sorry, I’m not sure who﹘.”

Burly Mc Pick-a-Fight shook his head in his hands, letting out a frustrated groan as he balled up his fists. “Oh come on!” he practically shouted. “Are you kidding me? We just got brought to some fucking alien base, with... things! How can you not recall my name?” He leered around at the other members of the meeting. “Does anybody know me‽”

A couple people nodded, and one even went so far as to give a thumbs up, but the majority starred the capricious captain down like a mut. Mel felt uncomfortable just watching the flip-flopping state of mind, let alone talking to him. “Err, no sorry, I got nothing.”

“Right, okay...” He trailed off and rubbed his stubble in mild anger, staring at Mel the entire time. “Alright, you probably know me by Two-D, then.” As he said the name the room lit up with a chorus of ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s. 2D just sat, leaning over the edge of his seat, utterly unamused.

Mel blinked profusely, eyes wide open upon realising who the man in front of him was like it was a grand revelation. “Two-D? Two-D-kun‽” He flipped his headwear and placed it on his lap. “Oh crud. I’m real sorry, man. I didn’t know it was you!”

The stocky inboxer, now revealed to be 2D, looked as if he was resisting the urge to flip Mel off. Instead he just nodded and kicked back in his seat, preparing to play the outburst off. “Just call me Edd.” Letting his chin rest on his chest and closing his eyes, the argumentative loudmouth excluded from the discussion.

When the conversation between the two ended, an older woman in her late 20s leaned forward on her seat and scratched her chin. She was judging them quietly while the two young men—though it was hard to call this Mel a man to begin with considering that he looked like hadn’t pass his teen-years yet—were talking with each other.

She really had only one thing to say as that point. “Who are you people? Really?”

“They’re a bunch of pricks who call themselves the ‘Old Guard’,” said one of the captains near the far end of the room. His chrome dome and old-man stare met numerous glares, and the room was very quiet for a short time.

“He’s right. We are assholes, after all.” An interloping voice called out from above the ground floor, belonging to a rather young man leaning over the edge. All the Old Guard members present immediately recognized him as Kelly, since he was a beaner who looked mashed off his face on drugs.

Murmurs of agreement passed through the gathered attendants, but the woman who’d pressed the matter was still unsatisfied. “That doesn’t tell me anything! From the sounds of things, you’re just some circlejerk that’s outstayed its due.”

An awkward cough was the only response.

Hood looked over at Mel for assistance, but realized he was on his own for this one. “Well, I suppose you could say that...” he said with a nervous chuckle. “But, then again, the Old Guard is a very tight knit group.”

“That doesn’t exactly mean anythin’ though, does it?” a short and lanky caucasian man asked. “Plenty people know other people. It’s a fact a’ life.” Heads nodded in agreement.

Before Hood could say anything in response, a rather rugged looking blond man stood up from his seat, his imposing six-foot-five stature calling all eyes upon him. “I’m Grey,” he said bluntly, starring the women down. “I’ll tell you exactly why the Old Guard is important, so pay attention.”

His gaze swept across the room, picking out faces he thought he recognized, but ultimately stopping back at Hood. “Everyone in here is from Humans are Superior, yeah?” Everyone nodded. “Okay, now how many of you chucklefucks know more than two people in this group, right here, right now?”

Silence, accompanied by a few raised hands.

“Alright. How many of you know and talk to more than five people in this group?” One hand. “Okay, fantastic you’re doing great, shitheads; now how many of you are Old Guard?” A majority of hands were raised, alongside some eyebrows.

“I think I’ll leave it there, then.” He sat himself back down and turned to glare at Edd, who was laughing to himself. Hood ignored them and clapped his hands together. “As you can see, then, a large amount of the chosen captains are Old Guard.” He gave a light, but weary smile. “That doesn’t make them better than anyone else, but it most certainly means they know one another better.”

Once again, agreement resounded throughout the room. It was an undeniable fact that familiarity was a good thing, especially in this kind of situation. “I think, for now, we should all get to know one another a little bit.”

And so the round of introductions went around the room, having been made even emptier than before. Many captains present were lost in thought, and so it went on that captains barely heard each other, and kept quiet.

Finally-

"Alright. Thank you all for being patient. Now, who has an idea where to begin?"

A dirty blonde man wearing a cotton jacket and square glasses with rounded corners, who had previously introduced himself as Tyrannosaurus Tux, spoke up. Normally nobody would have paid attention, but since everyone had been ripped from their daily lives, pettiness was being put aside for now.

“The uh... messenger referenced that we now possess a base, and that remaining here isn't a safe option.” Tux adjusted his jacket slightly. “It’s nice and all, but if we can’t stay here, then we may have a problem.”

Hood scratched his chin, contemplating the ominous words of the alien. It was terrifying to think of the ramifications of those words, let alone those of their actions to come. “It seems that they knew that whatever destroyed them will eventually come for us.” He did not let his fear show.

A chorus of agreement sounded.

Tux snapped his fingers. “How's about we use what's stored in the databanks to form a plan. I'll see about these 'gifts' the alien apparently got for us, and maybe see if there's a catalogue. Whoever wants to help with they can come with me.”

The well dressed Fresh Prince of the Cretaceous Period departed the room, with a few people following him. John Hood stood up and took in a deep breath, then released it.

“While he does that, I'll look around the perimeter of the base. We need to know what's around our immediate surroundings. Red, War, have a look at the databanks. They may reveal who our immediate neighbors are.”

Another man with cropped brown hair and a pointed chin stood up, who Hood remembered was called Novo and pointed behind his shoulder with a thumb.

“And while you do that, I'll take who's interested and make sure our little base is secure. Want to make sure no space rats are in our cupboards.”

He chuckled weakly, and a few others also laughed. With the departure of Hood and Novo with their respective entourage, it was only Red and Mel left with even fewer others in the place. They found a console and set to work.

“Wait... there; that solar system. Bring it up on the viewer.”

With a few clicking of keys, the holographic view in the room flickered and changed, until it displayed a new solar system. “What are we looking for, again?”

The redhead, cradling his face with an icepack, pointed at the hologram. “We’re looking for systems that could hold these enemies that the message hologram referenced, or even possible allies.” Despite the slight discolouration in his features, he was as sharp as ever.

The man at the console bit his lower lip, then turned to look at the fellow who was caught cold. “Do you think that... no, nevermind.”

A dubious look was shared. They then refocused on the display. It showed a star system like most others, with planets and planetoids. The search had proven to only yield dry worlds so far, and the curious spirit of those assembled there waned. Suddenly, Red noticed something and had to point it out.

“Hey, what's that 'PRIORITY' system at the top there?” Icepack and glasses pointed over at a highlighted system with a notice plastered across it. Numerous glyphs were associated with it, including one rather large ominous one.

“This one?” Clad in crimson cap and casual clothes, Mel hastily focused the terminal over the aforementioned system.

“Yeah, bring that one up.” He tapped his foot in an impatient manner as the seconds dragged on.

A pair of white holographic icons circled around the system for a few seconds before slamming together and disappearing, pulling the cosmic map into full view. At that moment, all voices in the room went silent. Even as the computer began to show orbits and previous flight paths, disbelief permeated the air.

There was a star orbiting a planet.

Everyone went pale, and stole looks at one another. The apprehension and tension in the room was almost unreal. Mel finally called out, “Hood needs to see this!”

His footsteps flung themselves throughout the area as he dashed out the door, leaving the remaining party to argue about this discovery.

“Novo! Novo!” Mel bounded into a room that could only be an armory, with men trying on dark-colored vests of different sizes. They also were inspecting an array of strange weapons on tables, which had a make that the messenger didn’t recognize. Novo strode up to Mel, wearing one of the vests and a grey cap to boot, smiling.

“What do you think, War? We got some fancy alien guns here.” He pointed over to a man who’d introduced himself as Bastion, who was carefully checking over a weapon. “We even have a few huge things... and I’m not sure what they’ll shoot.”

Novo gestured to a device that one of the men was trying on. Consisting of a backpack that looked to be a portable generator, with spasmically blinking lights and buttons. It was attached by a chord to something that could only be described as a narrow flashlight. The man finished putting on the pack and thumbed a button on the device. A white narrow beam of light shot out from the tip and slammed into the ceiling, causing sparks to fly, and everyone to duck for cover.

“Fucks sake, Kelly! You trying to decapitate someone?”

Mel used the ensuing chaos as Edd started roaring at Kelly as an opportunity to slip out of the armory. As he began to walk down the hallway he could hear the sound of more sparks, and the loud bellowing of Novo losing his temper.

It was probably best to tell them about the ponies after they’d stopped fighting amongst themselves, he decided.

A somewhat disgruntled messenger, having run quite a distance, took a moment to catch his breath. After he inhaled and exhaled a couple times, he noticed the sound of banging and machinery. Taking a right, the hallway opened up to a cavernous room, filled with row upon row of automated robotic arms, carrying an array of building materials different places.

The room was also full of conveyor belts, being operated by machines and more robotic arms. They were all hard at work producing containers. One such can made it’s way to the end of a conveyor belt, where it was picked up by none other than Tux. He inspected the glowing orange goo inside by holding the can up to the light.

“This is what they were talking about earlier, this stuff. They call it Meld, and they’re nanomachines that I suspect can have very many applications in both industry and medicine, though they’re inert right now.” Tux turned to grin at Mel.

“You’re inert.”

Everyone stared at the source of the tinny voice. The canister. Tux chewed the inside of his cheek, and inspected the canister some more, while War eventually drifted off to look at the machinery.

He took it all in a little slowly, eyes running across the length of the room and peering through the clutter. After a moment he noticed all the people gawking over consoles and the machinery.

“Pretty awesome stuff, wouldn’t you say?” Now well dressed up in some proper workers clothes he’d found somewhere, the well spoken engineer turned his attention to the room proper. “Imagine what we can do with this technology alone.”

Mel shook his head and walked up to Tux, grasping his shoulder and spinning him back around lightly. “Tux, Something’s going on,” he said with mild discomfort. “I need to speak with Hood. Where is he?”

Tux looked his friend up and down inquisitively. “Don’t you have your tablet?” he asked with a hint of amusement. A satisfyingly loud slap could be heard as Mel berated himself physically, skewing his hat.

“Must’ve left it in the briefing room.” Turning to look the huge room over with an embarrassed smile, he idly crossed his arms. “Don’t suppose you know the way through this maze?”

Tux withdrew his from a nearby tabletop, already cluttered with sketches and spare parts, and handed it to Mel. “Here, use mine.” He smirked as his friend stared at it blankly. “Just tell it to locate John Hood, and it’ll do that for you. What didja want to tell him, anyway?”

Mel tapped furiously on the screen to input his command. “You should go to the briefing room and see it for yourself.” A sigil he’d never seen before appeared on the slate, before dissolving into an interface. “Locate John Hood.” Fast as lightning the interface swapped over to a birdseye map, plotting the fastest course to Hood’s tablet.

Tux set the canister down and made a crossed wrists signal to one of the nearby onlookers, who replied with a simple thumbs up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The crimson capped busybody didn’t question it, and they left the area. A fork in the corridor appeared and they split up. Mel hurriedly went to find John, whilst Tux walked calmly to the briefing room.

“John!” Mel finally found John gazing out of a window to the outside. Walking up to John to see what he was looking at, he looked in wonderment at the mesmerizing sight.

The world outside was dead. Moon-like pastel grey rock was all to see, not even stretching to a horizon; barely illuminated by the light of the room they were in. Far off in the distance, vibrant and intense stars burned with passion, but this place was dead. The world remained unmoving, hauntingly beautiful in its stillness.

“Whoa...”

“Indeed. However, this just emphasises on how much we need to get out of here. There’s nothing here for us, except rocks. We need to have Tux fire up those factories and build us some ships. We need to find us a better home.”

With that, John Hood walked off, leaving War to gaze upon the landscape.

“Ponies‽”

Needless to say, pandemonium ensued. Nobody sat down anymore, and many were in each other’s faces.

“This... this is insane!”

Red, like many, were clutching his head, still finding it difficult to believe what their eyes are seeing. Volk, likewise, was also staring blankly at the display. The room was set afire with panic and outrage. It became hard to discern who was arguing with who, and the fever of emotion reached a high pitch, with many looking ready to lash out.

A shot rang out, and Hood dropped the pistol he was holding in alarm. He muttered, “Um,” and everyone stared at him in dead silence, a very real sense of awkwardness and tension in the air as it rang in their ears. He then looked across everybody and said, “I didn’t think it would be this deafening, but uh... now that I’ve got your attention...

We need to focus. The stakes are too high. I looked around, and I can’t see the smoke and mirrors. I can’t see the man behind the curtains. Ladies and Gentlemen...

This is real. It’s as real as it’s gonna get. Tux, fire up the foundry. We need to get to Haycate.”