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    daemok
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Vigilant - 2. Stuck

*Mentions of war murder/death and self-righteous speciesism*

Tossing a box of junk to the side, Ardant tries to get the pilot seat cleared. He throws himself into the swivel chair and kicks a stack of re-boot chips over, sending them skittering across the floor.

"Bloody stars!" He exclaims in frustration, sweeping them aside with a boot and leaning forward to smash buttons. He needs this hunk of metal to start up now. They aren't safe any longer.

The 8x8-inch console screen comes to life with a loading symbol, then goes straight into a system diagnostic check. It's the only thing he's proud of with the junker space-shuttle. It survived his military days, his cargo service days, and still has some of the best tech advances from the Lost Age. Of course, he had to unequip certain aspects for the Corps to consider letting it go, like the weapons station and wipe out codes in the Interstellar Communication System. Then he had to swear not to pursue Secret and Top-Secret Enterprises with it, including allowing any Domestic Threat, Known Terrorist, or Natural Enemies of the UPA make use of it. It had been an ordeal, but well worth all the work for his converted vessel. 'Way better,' Ardant thinks, 'than those fancy living shuttles with crappy mainframes.'

The buttons across the panel board alight a pulsating blue. He checks the waste, water, and fuel levels. They can head down to Earth for boondocking at a remote campsite. There are several spots he has in mind for this whole thing to blow clear. It'll be a hassle buying Skyrail tickets to get back and forth from work, but it's a plan.

He raises a hand to the intercom, "Sarklet! Did you get everything inside?!"

There's no response. His frown deepens. They have to get out of here. Right now. Did she not understand the situation?! Gahlamons are bloodthirsty killers! He's seen their capabilities in space and boarding battles. Their ability to brainwash hardened soldiers and rip limbs off humans like insects. There is no way among the stars that Ardant would willingly breathe the same air as one of their kind.

The 6x6-inch video survalliance situated at the dashboard's left, suddenly shows him a four-way split image from the cameras he has equipped to his airship. The docking patio is the same as always, potted plants and trees, a swing bench resting under a veranda covered in creeping vines, and a wall of hanging herbs connecting it all to the side of the aircraft. Ardant scoffs, wondering if he can get away with leaving it all behind. He can't see Sarklet through any of the cameras, so she must be inside with Xar. His amber orbs fall on a particular display, a feeling of disgust rising inside as more Gahlamons exit the Adventurer -until Ardant is certain that what he's staring at must be a whole family.

Panicking, he turns an emergency key to detach the Natibo port waste, water, and electrical lines. A handy all-in-one cut off system that is usually a manual action. He flicks up a single red casing that protects the engine toggle and switches that too. A warning flashes on screen, the battery symbol dropping to a startling zero. Then the lights flicker and everything shuts off at once.

Ardant sits rigid on the pilot seat, jaw clenching in disbelief.

"This isn't happening!" He mutters to himself, before bellowing, "Sarklet?!"

Desperately trying to follow the Troubleshooting Procedures, he soon comes to the realization that he may need to start at the basics for a full system sweep. Ardant ducks under a metal beam and jumps both steps into the living area, almost tripping over Xar's toy figurines. Cursing something foul, he evades Sarklet's appearance at the foot of her bedroom passage and enters the cargo room without another word directed at her.

Against the left wall, Ardant opens the circuit breaker box and checks the wires. Nothing irregular. He moves on to the switches and tests each of them with no luck either. There is just no power whatsoever to the shuttle. Scratching the dark stubble on his chin, Ardant bends down and clicks a release to a latch for the battery system. The plug that connects electricity to the batteries is missing.

A cold sweat begins to drip along his back, uncomfortable and clammy. He stands slowly as thoughts race through his mind and a memory of a few months ago clicks into place... He didn't think to deeply into it at the time. Xar always got into things he shouldn't.

"What do you have in your mouth?!" Were Sarklet's words.

"Ah, don't worry about it, he eats everything off the floor."

"It's gross and unhygienic."

He had shrugged at the time, focused solely on the sporting event on the holopad. "He's a boy!"

Turning, Ardant steps inside the shared quarters, where Sarklet is holding a Xar at the kitchen island. She turns away from the door left open, their neighbor Maza standing just inside the frame. Ardant must have forgotten the other male's presence when his mind went into overdrive.

"Ardant?" She questions calmly, watching as he glares vacantly at a chest of toys stuffed behind the sofa across from them.

He moves to the chest, dropping down to dig through tentacle aliens and monster trucks. At the very bottom, shoved into a corner is the system plug. Slightly chewed on, but still solid. Climbing to his feet with a spark of hope, he fumbles back to the breakers and jams it in. It's no use. The batteries have been drained dry for months. It'll take them at least two days before being charged enough to leave Natibo Station.

Sarklet peers in, ready to call him again when a mighty wham, causes her to jump. Ardant's hand having slammed against the back wall. Instantly incensed, Xar lets loose a high wail. Having heard the disruptive noise, Maza joins Sarklet and gently pulls her away, gesturing for her to step outside.

The sounds of chattering comes from behind the windows. No doubt the community investigating the new neighbors. Pets on leashes make welcoming barks and the drone of distant music from the Volder's two spots away rises on cue.

"Ardant... I think you need to calm down."

Maza's words only add to the hysterical bubble coiling inside him. He bites his tongue to keep the anger in check. He absolutely hates this side of himself. The consuming reaction to fear and pain, being a default of blinding rage. "I need to get out. I have to get out!"

"Stop!" Maza swears in his heritage language, before grabbing a random shirt from the other man's clothes and stuffing himself into it. "Stop this!"

Ardant whips around and is momentarily distracted, before shaking his head. In any other situation, he might have joked about Maza wearing his clothes. "You know I was in the Corps. You know how I feel about Gahlamons!"

"I know! I know, I know!" The smaller male throws his hands in the air. Lost for words and accent rolling awkwardly as he repeats himself. "I just didn't know you would act like... This!"

"How did you think I was going to act like?!"

"Informed?! Maybe some surprise?"

Ardant holds his urge to gut-check Maza and mimicks him by motioning wildly about them. "Well I'm certainly surprised! And upset! Shouldn't there be some sort of notification?"

"I don't know! It was finalized so fast. The government acted first, hoping for the best. It's not just this place either, many communities accepted the change with dozens of Gahlamon groups. They're taking this integration very seriously."

He wants to scream at the top of his lungs. Instead a strangled noise leaves him, "There's going to be protests! People aren't going to sit by and let this happen and I bet those monsters are counting on it. They'll blame us and react accordingly. With a slaughter! It's all a front, it has to be just tactics!"

"Ardant, please. That's a slippery slope, my friend. There's no reason for them to go so far!"

"You don't know them like I do, Maza! They're freaky intelligent. They get inside your head!" Ardant points to his own skull, childishly. He gets the feeling that maybe it's just the PTSD talking, but it's hard to break paranoia when you personally witnessed the enemy saunter onto your ship and simply ask a staff-sergeant to turn a weapon on twenty-six enlisted soliders and then for the man to blow his own brains out.

"Guys!" Lakla, Maza's wife, bursts inside. She looks between the two males with Sarklet following closely behind. The robust woman, fair of skin and hair interrupts them hastily. "There's a community meeting at the Hub, they're asking for everyone's attendance."

"Maybe they have some sort of explanation." His sister's eyes are pleading, beckoning him to come with them.

Everyone exchanges glances and their eyes fall to Ardant.

"Fine!" He growls. "We're stuck here for now anyways."

Thank you so much @mollyhousemouse for helping me out with Beta-Reading!
Copyright © 2018 daemok; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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1 hour ago, glennish said:

Is Ardant’s paranoia warranted or just imagined?   Going through a time of war against them and then living with them would have to be difficult.  Ardant has a long way to go yet.  Thanks. 

That's a good question. Yes, Ardant has a first hand experience of fighting the Gahlamons, where most of his peers didn't survive the war. There will be more information tying into his reasoning as chapters come out, incline the impact and timing of the war.

:)

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26 minutes ago, deville said:

Ardant's reaction is hardly surprising and his realization that it may be PTSD a valid one given his experiences in the past. Hopefully an explanation will be forthcoming at the meeting. There are almost certainly ‘ pacifist’ Gahlamon families who also just want to settle down and get on with life. A great chapter. 

You've hit the nail on the head. Thank you for your insightful comment! The community meeting will certainly be somewhat enlightening, and may even raise more questions for characters and readers alike. Very soon we will meet some antagonists in the story plot. :D

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