July 6th, 2486 - Planet Sanctuary, Sanctuary City - Koltura District

The local Onfirdian restaurant was located beside a block of flats, from which the loud, rhythmic thump of music pulsed out into the cool night air. The streets were almost empty, illuminated only by dying streetlamps and the occasional flash of a cigarette in the dark.

‘You like Earth-food human?’ the owner of the restaurant asked in a loud voice that cut through the calm elevator music filling the restaurant’s interior. ‘I make you good Earth-food—Onfirdian’s were the first race to visit Earth, in the far, far away Milky Way Galaxy… Earth-food became part of Onfirdian culture you know? No better Earth-food in this galaxy, I promise.’

The restaurant certainly had a view of a river … or what was left of one, with much of the water dried up, and what little water there was piled high with litter. The interior was a bizarre mix of art-deco ceilings and floor’s scrawled with circular patterns, the walls covered in meticulously detailed depictions of wheat fields and ancient flying saucers.

‘This place must be—do you have a son called ‘Fiivta’?’ Abiona asked excitedly.

The little wrinkly alien’s enormous black eyes lit up, and he hurried back to the countertop.

‘Fiivta is my eldest son—good boy, heart in the right place, terrible at business. You know him?’

Chara listened as Abiona explained her meeting with the man named Fiivta on her way down from the Zaruzaru District Spaceport, and about how he had recommended his family’s establishment, aptly titled, ‘The Blue Orb Restaurant’. To Chara’s surprise, the old alien behind the counter seemed more than happy to apply a discount. They left with bags full of sushi, chicken wings, several fried rice and noodle dishes (some on the house), mashed potatoes and green curry. This strange combination was authentic Human-Onfirdian cuisine, after all.

*

‘Spare some change for a war veteran?’

Chara was used to them; the only war veterans on sanctuary were those criminals who had survived the government crackdown on criminal enterprises years ago. The old woman was missing a leg, wrapped in a red blanket and rocking back and forth by the side of the road. There was no way that Abiona would know any of this, however, as a new arrival on Sanctuary. Chara watched, without saying a word, as Abiona stooped, and deposited a 200GSC coin in the old woman’s hand, gently telling her to visit the nearby restaurant and buy something warm. For a split second, Chara saw it again; there was an incredible beauty in the woman’s eyes, as she stooped by the side of the road. There was something genuine there.

They walked on for a few moments, and then Chara stopped, abruptly. She had to question it. Something wasn’t right.

‘Why did you give the woman your money?’ she asked. ‘I can’t imagine you have much to spare, and I can’t imagine you earned that cash honestly … or you wouldn’t have come to my grandfather for help.’

Abiona turned, the expression on her face quizzical.

‘I can’t assume that someone else will do a good deed for me … because if I’m not willing to do it, then how can I expect someone else to? That seems irresponsible somehow’, Abiona replied.

‘Seems self-righteous to me’, Chara muttered, pushing past Abiona. ‘… but I suppose there are worse ways to justify using someone else’s money.’

*

Angora released his breath, and the change enveloped his entire being. The change was warm, prickly, like pins and needles but far more pleasant. He could breathe more easily, his bones felt light. He felt that his body would raise itself, weightlessly from the ground, and his eyes blinked open reflexively; he was overwhelmed. Ichiro stared at him, from where he too sat cross-legged on the colourful mat on the floor of the workshop.

‘Mystik energy is tied to one’s emotional state. There’s nothing like a little meditation to help one focus.’

Pazzik came into view, and smiled … mischievously.

‘Take a look at your legs, Angora’, he instructed. ‘Your Mystik energy is of the offensive type; it is tied to your anger, and to the implements of your rage … and it is very unstable, but can be tempered with practice.’

Angora’s legs glowed, a thin layer of translucent mist, like a bubble, enshrouding the two limbs, pulsing and flowing. It was a vibrant crimson in colour. Angora let out a quiet huff of surprise. He stood, supporting himself with the prosthetic arm, and bounced on the balls of his feet.

‘I feel … weightless!’ Angora cried out in awe. ‘Ichiro, try standing up!’

Ichiro stumbled upright, arms limp and legs heavy. Angora’s eyes widened with concern, and he stepped forwards, the bubble of crimson mist around his legs bursting and fading into the mat below.

‘Are you okay Ichiro?’ he asked.

Ichiro stumbled back, gritting his teeth.

‘I can’t … I can’t make it work…!’ he grunted.

Pazzik sighed, stepped forwards, and gripped Ichiro firmly by the hand.

‘I see … your energy is defensive’, Pazzik said. ‘I’m not sure why … but your body is forcing itself to try and produce offensive energy. This is not good … you need to relax, Ichiro.’

‘Don’t tell me what’s good for me old man!’ Ichiro growled.

The door swung open. Ichiro stepped back, stumbling slightly.

‘Food’s here!’ Abiona called, walking into the room, Chara at her heels.

‘Sorry’, Ichiro grunted. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you.’

‘Of course … the process of unlocking Mystik energy taps deep into a person’s psyche. I understand … and take no offense’, the aging martial artist replied.

Angora shared a quick glance with Pazzik, their similarly coloured eyes reflecting a palpable worry.

*

They ate, and occasionally they talked. Angora explained his experience with the Mystik Arts to Abiona, and Abiona expressed her desire to learn as well. When it became clear that Ichiro had failed to bring out his own Mystik energy, Abiona said, ‘well, I’m starting tomorrow, so you can try again with me and show me the ropes in case I mess up’. About a minute later, Angora expressed dismay that one of the cockroach-like creatures in his curry was still moving, which was normal, according to Pazzik; they all found it very amusing, except Angora, who continued trying to stab the creature with a fork for some time afterwards.

They ate, and they began to talk more openly. Chara talked about the rebels mounting an offensive against the Wulver Empire, and how futile it was. Abiona talked about the weather on Bungirba, and how she would have liked a longer visit, without sharing too many specifics. Pazzik beguiled them with tall tales of martial arts tournaments and bizarre creatures that he had supposedly cooked and eaten. Ichiro remained quiet, and did so until Pazzik offered them a room for the night, until circumstance forced him to mumble, ‘thank you’.

*

‘Can you sleep, Ichiro?’

‘No… can you?’

‘Obviously he can’t, or he wouldn’t be talking right now.’

‘Don’t get smart with me Abiona…!’

‘No need to be rude about it. We can’t sleep either… why can’t you sleep, Ichiro?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I think it does.’

‘… Tell me, Angora. Have you ever been so dead-set on achieving a goal … a goal that you would stake everything on, even your life … a goal that becomes all consuming, the only thing you can think about … and then had that goal ripped away from you, with no possible way of ever completing it?’

‘… I have, Ichiro. I won’t pretend to understand what exactly you have lost … but I do understand why you can’t sleep.’

‘Maybe you could tell us? It doesn’t have to be today, or even tomorrow … but someday, when the time is right … if it would help you sleep again … I’m not good at this, but what I’m saying is, we’re stuck with each other now … but I’m not … unhappy about it. Don’t forget that.’

‘… Thanks, Abiona.’

*

Abiona felt a hand on her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, widening, as the serpentine tongue flickered over her face. The window creaked slightly, wide open, the curtains fluttering from the sudden gust of air created by the man who had entered the room, and who was kneeling over Abiona’s stomach. She tried to scream, tried to struggle, but could not—she was losing consciousness, fast, a rag stained with sweet-smelling liquid clasped over her nose. Her eyes welled with tears, and she let her gaze wander to the two men other men sleeping in the room. Was this the last time she would ever see of them? Would they even care? Her mind went blank, and she was gone.

*

Sunlight streamed into the guestroom, and Ichiro winced at the sudden intrusion of light. Someone had ripped the blinds open, and was thundering across the creaking wood floorboards towards him. The hand that touched his shoulder was cold, metallic; Ichiro opened his eyes and Angora’s greeted him, wide with worry.

‘Ichiro!’ he hissed. ‘It happened an hour ago—Chara saw them leave, I couldn’t see them, I tried to find them—Abiona’s gone, Ichiro—she’s been kidnapped!’