Vigilant - 3. Program

Ducking inside the Hub, Ardant keeps his back to the sage green wall and shoulder by the exit. The room is packed with folks from the Natibo community, most of them older or younger, excluding their party and the Volder's. That's the aftermath of war -those in prime ages were sent out to fight and few returned, children being taken in by relatives and elders seeking support groups. Ardant actually knows Rhagler Volder, from the Corps. It had been a pleasant surprise to help his peer dock beside Maza and Lakla, a year prior.

He can see the entirety of the Volder clan from across the room, dark skin gleaming and lean forms towering over everyone else. All the males are present with various expressions of anger on their faces, standing along the perimeter of a squat stage. Ardant's unease grows steadily, wondering if the obvious display of dominance might cause the Gahlamons to act out with violence. He shifts uncomfortably, catching the sight of Rhagler who is advancing closer to him.

Rhagler's usual impish grin appears more harassed, a gleam of deep seated hatred reflecting in his eyes, like black orbs. It was in one of the last attacks the Gahlamons made against a civilian settlement on Earth, that Rhagler lost his wife and unborn child. Ardant can tell through the cautious motion the other man uses, that Rhagler is ready for action.

"You're still here." Rhagler's intense voice, like a deep well of hidden emotions, hold a tinge of surprise and accusing lilt that causes Ardant to grind his teeth.

"So are you."

They eye one another, a silent conversation only privy to them. Rhagler looks non-discreetly leftwards. Ardant follows the gaze to see Sarklet rocking Xar side to side, between Lakla and Maza. "You have people to protect. You should leave as soon as you can."

Ardant snorts in indignation. That was the plan, and it still is once the airship is ready. Here isn't about to tell Rhagler that though, he can't stand admitting a situation out of his control. "I see your twins by your brothers."

"They can hold their own."

He very much doubts that. No matter how intimidating or how much special training those two have, they're still teenage boys. Ardant bites down on his tongue. It seems that pride runs strong in their circles. Rhagler Volder is a good man with a sense of honor and justice, but sometimes comes off as overconfident and hypocritical without realizing it. "If you say so..."

"Listen," Rhagler steps closer, forcing Ardant to push forward to match the unspoken challenge. "We both know what's going to happen-"

"Maybe it won't." He rushes to say, sounding ridiculously like his optimistic sister. She has this skill of genuinely believing the world is a happy place. Ardant wishes he can live like that, but really, his mindless words just come from denial and fear.

Rhagler sizes him up and down, knowingly. "Maybe it won't today, or tomorrow. Maybe, not even this year." His voice drops lower, eyes hardening. "But sometime, somewhere, someone is going to slip up. And when they do-"

"The war could start over again."

"Yes. But this time," the taller man gestures to the murmuring crowd, "they'll be here. In our own territory. Living in homes right next door to our own families."

Ardant licks the sweat from his upper lip in nervousness, goosebumps crawling across his flesh at the implications.

The sudden squawk of an intercom crackles in the Hub. "Hello! Can I have your attention, please?!"

A chipper voice breaks the tension between the two ex-soldiers. Ardant almost sighs in relief as Rhagler slips towards the front. Not once have they ever talked in such tones before. The Volder's are mostly a laid-back clan who drink loud, laugh loud, and celebrate life as often as they can. It just goes to show how inviting the Gahlamons in after only four years is already making waves.

"Hello, Natibo Port!-"

Ignoring the regurgitated spiel that's repeated at the beginning of most speeches, Ardant shoulders past a few people to stand beside Maza. The shorter male is still wearing his shirt and the fading scent of sweat makes Ardant shift anxiously in arousal.

His neighbor catches him looking and comes to a different conclusion. "Sorry, I'll have Lakla wash it, before giving it back."

Swallowing harshly, Ardant simply tilts his head in acknowledgment.

"Shhhh!" Lakla hushes her sheepish husband and leans to Sarklet. "What did he say?"

"Something about a new program established by the government..."

Turning back into the announcement, Ardant crosses his arms loosely.

"Because of our acceptance into the Enemies-to-Allies Program, we can now offer you lower rates and better amenities starting this next cycle!"

A few hushed whispers rouse among the older couples. Finances have been tight for some families that have taken in their grandchildren, making living situations difficult. Some extra cash can improve living situations and help get the younger generation through their education.

"We're excited to expand this Station in new innovative ways that will rival even that of the thirteen colonies! But as our clients know, we like to keep our community tight-knit and cozy, so the Natibo board has decided to make a vote in the following week."

"The government is actually funding this whole thing." Ardant states with grim fascination. "Sweeten us up to accept the situation."

"They could have offered nothing." Maza shrugs.

The rise and fall causes the shirt to rest loosely around that olive-tanned collarbone, Ardant forces his sight to the stage, accidently meeting a watchful set of eyes. He instantly freezes in place, the second time today that this particular Gahlamon has met his amber orbs. Wrestling with the sudden urge to fight or flee, the persistent man straightens his spine.

"Allow me to introduce our Sponsored family, the Suclee...um Sucleeto-"

"Su'klythop" The Gahlamon says easily, the foreign word near impossible for humans to imitate in tongue. "Suyi is acceptable."

Ardant's grip tightens on his arms. The Gahlamon is talking... it's the most surreal thing he has ever seen in person. Gahlamons don't need to move their mouths in order for someone to hear them. They project their thoughts. For this thing to purposely go through the motions of forming words to match the voice they can hear, is a show of high intelligence. The Gahlamon is choosing to seem more human to better blend.

Now that he's noticed, Ardant can't help make notes of the other changes with the group of five aliens. Such as their usual floating hair, pulled back into artful twists either around elegant horns or wrapped in braids around their skulls. Familiar design in the clothing they wear match more formal dress code Ardant is used too, and their silvery skin seems almost lightly powdered.

For one bewildering moment, Ardant thinks he can trick himself into believing that they're just humans in some elaborate costumes. In retrospect, the reality is much more terrifying. Gahlamons trying to be human.

The idea almost makes him sick.

"Thank you!" Responds the upbeat employee. "Suyi it is! Welcome to the Natibo Community Port!"

Polite applause is carried around around the room and Ardant is in awe. No one seems willing to ruin the tranquility their home has been through the years. Although Rhagler's family is just waiting for one wrong move to jump into a bloodbath. It sort of allows Ardant to fleetingly imagine if this might actually work. That this might be the future. It's such a strange concept, he's not sure he can ever get on the same page.

More announcements follow, but they are fillers that reinforce the information already given. The Gahlamons are given the chance to speak more and Ardant finds out the name to their household leader, Dathar. The same Gahlamon he has refused to break eye contact with in the last ten minutes.

Maza pats Ardant on the shoulder, laughing aloud at his neighbor's full-body jerk. "This is good news! Peace! And money saved!"

"All you have to do is live beside murderers."

The shorter male chortles, "I live beside you."

Ardant's jaw slackens. He faces Maza who shrugs again with a helpless smile. "What?"

"You heard what I said."

"You implied-"

"Because you are, Ardant. You may have been a soldier and did your job." Maza releases the broader shoulder. "But to them, you are a murderer. And you are living next to their family."

Miffed, Ardant watches Maza take Lakla's hand and leave with the flow of bodies exiting the Hub. Sarklet leans in, Xar bouncing on a hip.

"Isn't this exciting? We could really use that saved money for Xar's schooling! There's several really great tutors that could help him go into any path he'll want! I also heard they're going to open a-"

"Stop." He raises a palm to cut her off. "We aren't staying."

"What?!" Sarklet looks at him, features twisting into surprise then rage. As if sensing her displeasure, Xar peers at Ardant with as much disdain a babe can muster.

"Sister.-"

"Brother!" Her stubborn stare is boring into him and Ardant shakes his head sharply.

"I don't care what they are offering us. We're leaving as soon as we can."

Face reddening in anger, almost an identical visage to Xar's pinched one, she whirls about abruptly and marches after Lakla.

"Sarklet! In two days we're out!" He yells after her figure. "Out!"

Noticing the crowd parting, he turns in time to see the Gahlamon, Dathar, walking in his direction. Those pale-slit orbs tracking his movements with interest. Startled, Ardant backpedals and retreats through the side door. He isn't running away, he's just regrouping. The day has been hectic enough as it is without trying to fake pleasantries with freaky aliens.

As he slips through the alley between the Hub and indoor gym, Ardant tells himself, 'No. He was just walking in my general direction, don't read into it. There's no reason the Gahlamon is searching me out... No reason at all.'

Big thanks to @mollyhousemouse for helping me polish this chapter!