I was nearly seven years old - again - when my second life decided to veer further off from the expected course.
The emergency broadcast was on every news station, every data site, and every viewfinder. So total was the broadcast that even the equivalent of elementary school children could not escape it, despite Mistress Drucia's many attempts to divert back to the boring recorded lecture on the Magnus Desertus. She reached to cut the power of the screen altogether, but not before the subject of the forced broadcast finally reached her attention.
A hornless ambassador dressed in a deep maroon coat stepped into frame, his face far too grim for this to be anything but good news. The background of the shot was stale, nondescript, and not at all inviting - a clearer sign that whomever recorded this did not have time to prepare a statement of calm. I recognized the man vaguely, but only through sheer charm.
"Put it back!" a girl in my class shouted.
"I wanna see those lizard things!" a boy with brunette hair agreed, slamming his hand on the table. "They were eating all sorts of bugs! It was cool!"
I shot them both a death glare from across the room; the new kid Adrius was a handful of a child that would have gotten on my damned nerves as a teacher in my previous life. I had much sympathy for Drucia and anyone else who tried to watch over elementary age children like him. The temptation to be as loud, obnoxious, and snot-ridden as these little ones was an inborn trait that I had to remind myself to push away at nearly every turn. The few times I indulged - to keep up appearances - absolutely killed brain cells.
The woman ignored them after a quick admonishing look, her own face askew from the likely realization for what this kind of emergency alert might mean. I was glad for it, in a way. Drucia and I were kindred spirits then - the only ones in the room who had the life experience to understand the gravity of the situation.
"People of Osmos V," the man began. "You may recognize me, you may not, but I am Chief Diplomat Xandros of Clan Herod. I have served under Elder Seneca for many years in all matters related to his position as Triarch. As such, I have had many dealings with the public at large, but I must admit that I was not expecting such a large audience today."
He addressed Osmos.
As in, the entire planet.
This was not local, or national, but a global announcement to all of Osmos at once? I wished so desperately to see Mother and Father's reactions and not to be stuck among what counts as public education in this shitty town. The two of them would hopefully understand my reaction.
"As has been predicted, we are in an unprecedented period of our planet's history. The anomaly of our orbit has begun to flux far sooner than we anticipated, and for far longer than estimated. We have been fortunate so far that most debris has disintegrated on entry, has been too small to do damage, or has landed in remote areas or in our oceans."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. As incredible as it was to learn of Osmos V's most fascinating quirk, I had been hearing about this for years. This was not surprising, and unless he was about to explain that they uncovered some new, bigger space object that will kill us all when it struck, I almost wanted to tune the whole thing out. Why something would force me to reincarnate on a gravitational deathtrap of a world was beyond me. Not sure that potential future superpowers were worth it if it meant that I died before it could come to fruition.
"During this period of fluctuation, nearly three years ago to the day," Xandros paused for emphasis, "Osmos V caught a passing interstellar ship within its fluctuating gravity field, and it was forced to crash land."
Drucia's mouth dropped open.
"What's 'interstetlar'?" a snot-nosed brat asked, drying his nose with his own arm.
"Hush now, children," the woman tried, but her heart was clearly not in it. I had been a teacher in my first life, and the first major world event I covered in class to my schoolchildren involved storming the U.S. Capitol. A year later, the war between Russia and Ukraine. I could certainly understand her reluctance to make a comment to explain to her students what was happening, why it was happening, and what to do with the information.
"The crew fortunately survived the journey, though not without physical injury. However, their ship was not as fortunate. The Triarchs, in their infinite wisdom, offered these beings a temporary home on Osmos V, until such a time that they could repair their ship and recover from their injuries. For this short time, our visitors have remained in hiding, and it became official policy of the Triarchy to maintain absolute secrecy. No one was to know about these visitors, the first in more than a century."
Why would they reveal themselves now?
Mobilize.
That was the word that Father used. Almost three years ago.
A chill ran down my spine.
"In communications with these beings from the stars, we have come to an agreement - they would share some of their technology with us, and in return, we would welcome them as planetary partners with an official proclamation. Under intergalactic law," the ambassador's voice grew strained, something he forced himself to correct quickly with a charming smile, "they have invited us to be part of their overall collective, as partners, allies, and shared stewards of Osmos V. The citizens of this planet and of the Triarchy will benefit greatly from this partnership for many years to come."
The diplomat beckoned someone to step into frame: a maroon-skinned alien with an insect-like carapace covering a lanky, humanoid form. The masculine, robed figure placed a comforting, five-fingered hand on the ambassador's shoulder. Human-like eyes accompanied a noseless face, lips thin and so muted with color they looked almost nonexistent.
"Allow me to introduce to you an Ambassador to his people," Xandros declared with a grin. "His interests represent the best of his race, and he means the best for all Osmosians. Currently, the language barrier between our two peoples is insurmountable except to our very best linguists, but we were able to translate a clear message that I wish to share with you today, from the Ambassador's own lips."
A pregnant pause filled the space, and I could not help but feel this was all too good to be true. The word 'mobilize' dominated my thoughts again.
"To my dear Osmosians," Xandros started to read from a prepared statement, "I am known to my people, The Reach, by my role as Ambassador. While our meeting was not under the best of circumstances, we hold no ill-will to the planet or its population. We plan to share with you the resources we have cultivated, and contact has been made with our homeworld and our other territories to ensure a healthy, two-way partnership. I have apologized to Elder Seneca of the Triarchs on more than one occasion, for our relationship thus far has largely been parasitic - we have enjoyed your hospitality, taken from the resources of our hosts. We wish for a symbiotic partnership in the future, where both sides may prosper." He paused for maximum dramatic effect and gestured toward the Reach Ambassador. "As a token of our new bond, I have gifted Diplomat Xandros with the height of our technology."
Xandros, on the Ambassador's cue, raised a finger into the air.
A moment later, a maroon suit of power armor erupted from his back and molded around his form, covering every inch with insectoid plates. Twin nodes, almost like antennae, rise from the shoulder pauldrons, their tips glowing the same golden color as the eyes on the armored face-plating. Gone are the features of the Osmosian diplomat, replaced with a full suit of high-tech armor. Xandros raised his scarlet-plated arms in demonstration, gesturing happily in the Reach Ambassador's direction.
Something felt familiar about the whole thing. The armor, the Reach… I could not place why. Beetleborgs - a cursed idea - came to mind.
"That's so cool!"
Of course Adrius would like that. It was impressive, I'll give it that.
"What is that, Mistress Drucia?" another student I hadn't bothered to learn the first thing about asked.
The teacher had no answers for her students this time, and neither did I.
"Our scarab technology creates a living bond with its host," the Reach Ambassador's message continued as he gestured with a long finger toward Xandros' armored breastplate, the details forming into an insectoid symbol. "With this armor, I am capable of creating nearly any form of technology with a thought, in virtually any field. Medicine, weapons, defense - the list goes on." The armor molded again with a flick of the wrist into something akin to a cannon, whirring with dark light within its barrel. "The Reach offers this Scarlet Scarab armor to the people of Osmos V, a perfect blend of Reach technology and natural Osmosian stock. This is a symbol of our future partnership."
Xandros waved one more time before the transmission ended, leaving me as dumbfounded as everyone else in the class, teacher and student alike.
OSMOS V
DECEMBER 22, 13:16 UTC
TEAM YEAR NEGATIVE NINE
Father and Grandfather were clearly mid-discussion when I strode through the front door, as their voices trailed off. It did not take a genius to guess what they were discussing - how could anyone not be talking about the Reach?
"How was school?" Father asked nonchalantly. He was not hiding his distress well, and as I've grown older, he tends to be additionally stressed any time his father visited. The man had been largely absent from my childhood, but every few months, he reappeared, usually bringing news that could not possibly be good.
I raised an eyebrow - that's how they'll play it? Ignore it around me. Not today, of all days - today, I can be as curious as I want to be. "Mistress Drucia says the aliens are nothing to worry about, but I don't believe her."
Father tensed, but Grandfather chuckled. "You're right to be skeptical, Cassian. We've every right to be concerned."
"Now, Maximus, you-"
Grandfather scoffed. "Horatio, please - this is the smartest thing your so-called genius child has ever said. I'm going to indulge him." Father looked ready to argue again, but Grandfather continued. "What do you think about all this? What made you not believe him?"
I sat at the table and poured a glass of water from the plastic pitcher. "It seems far too good to be true. Aliens with strong technology that looks weaponized and just offering it to us? Like that? And you guys talk all the time about Elder Seneca and how you don't trust him-"
"Cassian, you should not be listening to our conversations."
I was not going to apologize. Those small pieces of information about politics were the only real pieces of information with context I'd gotten for years before they stopped trying to limit my screen time. It was silly how sheltered they tried to force me to be.
"I feel like they want something from us."
Grandfather smiled. "Any guesses as to what?"
"Money? Some, uh, resource our planet has. Or ship parts?"
My favorite horror movie of all time, and one that still scared the shit out of me as an adult, was the alien invasion story, Signs. I saw it at a way-too-early age while on a family trip to New Orleans, and I had to ask my mom to cover my eyes. Despite that fear, part of me has always been fascinated with the idea of what happens when two civilizations from other planets meet. The Reach Ambassador wanted a partnership, but he did not tell us what he wanted out of it. Maybe it was just a home for them, and that's all they needed, but I doubted anything was that simple. And hey - maybe they were deathly allergic to something as simple and ubiquitous as water too, if they proved violent.
Father sighed. "Your Grandfather thinks they want our Gift."
Oh.
That would make sense.
The Gift. An ability that manifests in most Osmosians - the ability to absorb nearly anything and then do truly wondrous things with whatever is absorbed. Matter, energy, DNA - any of it could be taken in by us and used for crazy things. An ability that would manifest in me in a few years, if it manifests at all. The chances were - well, not great. Until that day at the theater, I'd not even known Mother had the ability, and she hardly used it at all. Father and I were the only people in our closely tied family who did not possess the Gift (yet), and it was clear that there was bad blood there.
I wanted the Gift badly. An Exception would be nice, but it's difficult to say how useful one might be. Adrius bragged all the time about how his older cousin developed an Exception early, one that gave him an extendable, stretchy tongue, but he had none of the Gift.
"Why would the Reach want that? For themselves, or do they… want us?"
Soldiers for an army? Even a few squads of ten Osmosians could probably do some real damage, if what I've read about is even remotely true.
Rare material duplication? Absorb some diamond, become diamond, then cut the limbs off until you've got more wealth out of it. A scary exploitation, to be a living farm for some rare loot.
Grandfather looked amused at the questions. "Your guess is as good as mine, Cassian. I suspect we'll learn sooner than later."
I did not like the sound of that.
The word 'mobilize' came back to my mind.
"The Reach - if they're a threat, surely we have the numbers to beat them. They said that it was a ship that crashed, not a whole fleet."
"Assuming we can take anything they say as truth, then yes," Grandfather replied, "but I think it wise to not believe everything that you hear."
I glanced at Father and met his eyes. "You - do you remember that day? You mentioned to Aunt Jula that we should mobilize. Was that about this?"
Father said nothing for a long moment before slowly nodding. "Yes."
"Was that, uh, as a civilian? Or are you and Aunt Jula not civilians?"
Father blanched at that.
Grandfather swooped in to save Father from having to answer. "Cassian, why don't we go get some pre-dinner desert? You can show me what you're learning in school."
"No," I argued. "Just tell me, Father."
But the elder of the men was not having it. He grabbed me around the elbow and took me toward the front door. I almost fought the grip, trying for once to learn whatever it was that they were keeping from me for years. Yet, Grandfather leaned in close and halted me in my tracks. "Let's not, Cassian. Not now."
I stewed. "When, then?"
But Grandfather did not budge.
OSMOS V
DECEMBER 22, 19:33 UTC
TEAM YEAR NEGATIVE NINE
I was not about to let them continue to lie to me without some inkling of the truth. At this point, the secrets were held for larger reasons than simply to hide them from their young child. It had to be more than that - I could handle any information they threw at me.
I looked far smarter than my peers and acted far more mature than any of them could ever dream. Their lack of trust could not have been from a lack of maturity - I hardly ever acted childish in front of either of them anymore, and I didn't bother to hide from Grandfather in the few times I'd seen him over the years. No, the adage of "an old soul" applied to me in a very literal way, and Mother and Father all but knew the truth.
The door to Father's office stayed locked, except when either my parents or a guest of theirs entered. I'd seen a few people come and go over the years, not all of them relatives, and I'm starting to suspect quite a few things. There had to be something good in there, in information at the very least, but I'd tried to look over the interface several times.
I approached the door again to try the basic route, but I was not keyed to enter, so it did not slide open. A bead of sweat dripped from sheer frustration, but I'd tried this countless times and I should not have expected it to change. Getting angry - well, it was pointless at this stage.
The only other interface was a manual console, a simple electronic panel built into the side of the circular door frame. It was not a digital code that I could simply record Father using, memorize it, and then input it. I could not swipe a key from his jacket pocket when he puts the clothes in for a wash. No - I'd need to somehow copy his handprint, which was physically impossible.
I'd seen a lot of secret agent media growing up, so my solution for that problem was to simply grab some packing tape, force Father to touch it with his whole palm, and then cut the excess away and hope, maybe, that the scanner does not pick up my hand and instead reads the grooves on the tape. I'd not tried that method yet, because, well, packing tape does not exist on Osmos V.
Packing tape might not exist in the whole universe.
I'd tried to find similar adhesives using the extranet, but online shopping was not a thing on Osmos V either. Ultimately, that was probably a blessing rather than a curse, but it was mighty annoying at this moment.
A year ago, I resolved to try to physically dismantle the manual console if I was desperate enough. Until this particular night, I did not think that I was, because taking the console apart might, A) jeopardize the relationship with my parents, and B) not even work, in which case I'd broken Father's office door for nothing.
But aliens announced their existence on the planet today. As far as I understood, there had not been alien visitors to Osmos V in any regular capacity for centuries. Until the Reach, a group that seemed helpful on the surface but absolutely is hiding something. They have an ulterior motive, and I was determined to see what the hell my family knew. If they knew something actually important, then I deserved to know.
I searched the house for a suitable tool, wishing the kitchen utensil I grabbed was more like a flathead screwdriver. As it was, it'd have to do. I'd had to push the oblong chrome cleaning robot to the side just to get into that cabinet, and I'd almost felt bad about it. It was difficult to explain how much that thing had meant to me as a very young toddler.
"I'd like to apologize, Father," I said aloud to no one, before taking the final few steps. Finding the right angle took a few tries, but... there!
I pushed on the tool with all of my might, forcing my body weight forward, until the knife slipped into the space between the wall and the console. Forcing a gap took some leverage, but I finally managed to pop the console's front away and reveal the circuitry and wires behind it. I almost giggled when I realized there was a blue, red, and yellow wire connecting to a power supply deep within the hole - some things are universal.
I gingerly reached into the panel with the knife and chose a cord to cut. Snapping through the first wire, the door was still unresponsive. The second - no change. The third....
Nothing.
At least it wasn't a bomb.
I tapped on the entrance to the office - no response. Determined, I pressed on the door with all of my weight. Nada.
I heaved and heaved.
Zilch.
Breathing heavily and sweating after a couple minutes of trying, I dropped the obnoxious and bent knife that had gotten me nowhere, and it clattered to the floor amid the silent house.
Fuck this. I shot to my feet and headed for my parents' room, glad that the two of them were on a date night. I scrounged their room, their drawers, their closet, their mattress, their bathroom. Apart from learning some things about my parents' sex life that no one needed to know, I found nothing controversial nor a link to the Reach.
After a couple of minutes of trying to put everything back where it was supposed to be, I had to breathe hard just to let the feelings out.
Not for the first time, I considered my last resort. If Father and Mother knew the fucking truth, maybe they'd have been telling me things all along. Maybe I wouldn't have to fucking go to school with a bunch of damn brats. Maybe I would know their secrets about the Reach, and I'd have some context as to why they treated me like no other child and kept me inside for much of my life up to this point.
I glanced up at the whirring sound of a door.
The door.
I rushed to the great room and practically squealed in delight.
Rolling into Father's office was his most hated possession: the cleaning robot. In its clawed appendage held the knife I'd dropped, and it moved haphazardly down an incline toward the innards of the chamber I'd never seen.
I'd never seen it go in there. Something must have changed - maybe tearing up the console actually did work, just not in the way I'd expected.
I bounded across the room and into Father's office with a childlike energy, tapping the robot on what would count for a head along the way. "Good fucking job!" I shouted in English, not in Osmotin, and it just felt so good to say aloud.
The large office was octagonal and filled with shelves, comfortable seating through purple fabric-covered chairs, and a large computer monitor that currently had data streaming across it at a speed that was difficult to parse. Several open windows, for lack of a better term, were displaying graphs indicating things like rate of temperature change, number of falling debris incidents per capita, and other graphs that did not make sense at a quick first glance. Three windows opened to extranet feeds that were far better managed than any I'd seen, though only some of it was in Osmotin - one was a news bulletin about the day's events, including speculation that the Reach would be releasing medicines into the market soon to potentially soothe the effects of some common ailments.
On the shelves lay various types of equipment, the most interesting of which was something that had to be a gun of some kind. I carefully picked it up without touching any buttons, pressing any triggers, or activating any switches. The weight was light, though cumbersome in my too-small hands. I could barely reach my fingers around the grip to the other side.
I put the gun down before I shot my own eye out - if that was even how this gun worked. I'd seen the effects of plasma-based laser weaponry on a few broadcasts over the years, which was a big reason why I'd initially thought this was just Earth in some future time. Laser weapons = future vibes.
The fact that my Father owned one was a shock. He did not seem the type. For any of this.
This was not an office - this was a resting place for someone who had a much bigger role than a local butcher. What that role was, was anyone's guess.
I glanced toward the door leading out, expecting that my luck would soon fail me and that my parents would return home any minute. I wanted desperately to push it, to search through the computer for any information. I almost backed out before I realized, well, fixing that panel was going to be impossible. I was already in deep shit - in for a penny, in for a pound.
Navigating the extranet and other readouts from this too large computer was far easier than it sounds, though the pages were clearer than any interface I'd seen before. I eventually found a way to enter a query and searched for Father's name, Horatio of Clan Bathar.
News article after news article filled the screen, though not as clearly written for the public as they might be on Earth. They instead read like public service announcements, and why my Father might have some written about him was confusing.
"Capital Local Exposes Exotic Species Trade."
"Unseen Evidence Comes to Light: Elder Seneca Faces Questions Tied to Corruption Investigation."
"Elder Gordia's Forces at a Hidden Stalemate with Elder Cato - Pressure Mounts Among the Triarchs."
There were more, but it painted a very funny picture of the man I thought I knew. Why these were all tagged with Father's name was what confused me - he was not mentioned at any time within the articles themselves, but rather tagged in the system by the user. Father had specifically tagged his name in these. Did he... expose someone for something? Was he once a bigshot investigator? A reporter? A spy?
I backed out and searched for the Reach, but it was difficult to parse through anything that was not current news. Article after article, bulletin after bulletin, replayed the news from earlier that day, some with commentary and some without. I tried again, shifting to information about the Reach that might not have been known to the public before today. Much less information popped up, but one piece of information stood out to me.
"The Reach Are Heralds for Change."
It was a message. A message to Father from Aunt Jula.
Dated from two years ago.
MUMBAI
DECEMBER 23, 1:29 UTC
TEAM YEAR NEGATIVE NINE
The girl supposed that she would need to call them for money soon.
Everyone was really tense and had been for the last several days. A big attack happened on some government building in New Delhi more than a week before, and everyone she passed by wanted everyone from Pakistan to burn.
They were all too wrapped up in the tension for her to make a good mark. The bigger the crowd the more difficult the mark for her pickpocketing. She'd learned of these things over the years, and she knew how to find someone rich enough to give her something but not so rich that they'd send everything at her to take her down.
But tens of thousands of people were in massive crowds of protestors. Business had all but stopped, and it was starting to feel impossible to find a good place to rest without it getting trampled, or found, or interrupted by some bad person who wouldn't leave well enough alone.
She tried to cover the inhuman tone to her skin less these days, as she'd grown more used to the looks over the years. She told herself that they didn't bother her, and if anyone gave her crap, she was more than happy to show them exactly who they were messing with. But ever since the attack, she'd taken to covering herself if only to avoid the additional pairs of eyes.
With a heavy head, she approached a payphone and deposited pocket change she'd taken earlier that day. Or was it the night before? She couldn't remember.
"... Hello?"
"Abhi, give me a big job."
"That's my Jinx!" he exclaimed, and she could practically see his smile through the phone. "I knew you'd want another one. We've still got some funds from your last one, but we're running real low."
She nodded, having felt that herself. Part of her wondered when Abhi and the others were going to cut her in fairly, as she's the one who does all the heavy lifting.
Abhi directed her to a bank near the edge of the financial district, one away from any major protests. Fatima said it was a perfect time to strike, because the cops were too busy dealing with the attack, the protestors, and the aftermath to do anything about it quickly.
Jinx approached the back of the facility, face cloaked alongside the rest of her to avoid notice by any cameras. A couple security guards were stationed in the back, but they wouldn't know what to do momentarily.
She pressed her feet into the pavement, wiggling her toes against concrete, and felt the connection spike as she focused. With a thought, she confirmed the location of the main vault, as it, too, was nestled in the earth nearby, and she could feel their kinship.
Raising a hand, the girl willed natural forces around her to listen. They regretted what she would have them do, and she knew that she was close to gaining more from that connection than she had previously, but she would have to do with what she could manifest now.
A gout of pink flame crossed the street and impacted with the back of the bank, the flames surging immediately to encompass a large gap blown through the stone. She willed the earth's winds to carry her and dashed forward with a speed that the guards could not match, pink light trailing around her feet. Before they could even turn to aim their guns in her direction, she was already into the chamber just before the vault.
More pink fire erupted between her and the hallway leading toward the rest of the modest bank, obscuring her from any interior guards who may try to do something heroic. They wrapped around to coat the entrance she'd made as well, sealing her in a flame-like cocoon that they'd surely be too scared to pass.
She focused on the metal of the vault door and placed her hands upon it. Earth began to vibrate beneath her feet, and she forced those tremors forward and toward her hands. Voices shouted to intercede, to intercept her, but she couldn't hear them over the cracking of the fires she stirred nature to burn.
Jinx watched with excitement as the vault door began to dent, to crack, and to rend open - it frustrated her how long that took, because her flames were beginning to die down by the time she finished. Still, a gap formed, one she was able to traverse, and she slipped through it and began taking anything she can get her hands on. She slipped money into her pockets, into her gloves, into her pants, into her scarf, into her coat, and into her hood.
She knows better than to press her luck and take more.
Slipping through the gap and watching the dwindling flames, she spotted the guards attempting and failing to progress, none of them brave enough to try their luck with her fire.
Jinx blew a kiss toward one of them with a childlike grin and then darted back out the way she came, the summoned fire doing nothing to harm her. The exterior guards began firing this time, but she was ready for that and hurled her hands backward. Twin bolts of pink light shot across the back of the bank's lot, but they both went wide and still spooked the security enough that they miss all their shots.
She spotted the getaway car around the corner and bolted to it as quickly as she could, feeling most of her power spent. She hoped she would not have to do anything else like that again for a while, because she doubted she could spark more than a candle.
A gleaming Abhi opened the door at her approach, and she dove into the backseat, heaving. He sped away before anyone was the wiser - that took, at most, a few minutes to top them off for the foreseeable future.
All in all, a successful job.
She doubted it would be long before she had to do that again, but for her own sake, she hoped she got enough to keep them satisfied. To keep her fed, clothed, and maybe to stay in a nice place for a few weeks.
She was happy to help them out, as they'd helped her out so much.Last edited: Apr 18, 2023201