Answering some Questions - Journal

Hello Lovelies,

Today, I wanted to take a moment to address two questions/comments that were directed my way. Partially because I'm still working on Chapter 19 and partially because I felt it might clear some things up for some of the newer and regular readers.

First, given the recent fiasco with the election distractions and the Chapter 18 rewrite, I've had some express surprise at my writing process. While I can only think of one comment on HERE I actually saw, I received a few others elsewhere with regards to the fact that I tend to write and post without much (if any) editing.

While I actually addressed this sometime back, I'm sure the answer to the why and how has been lost somewhere in my news feed. As it stands, the reason I write and post boils back to a very simply idea: If I hold onto a story with intent to edit each little thing, each little chapter, I'll never post any of them. Think of it like seeing the forest for the trees. The more hung up on the details you are, the less likely you will be to complete the entire story. This is the basis for why I work the way I do. In short: blog receives first drafts in favor of super carefully refined pieces.

Now, please note, this doesn't mean that the story isn't going to see an editor before publishing. In fact, I can assure you that the red-pen of death is going to bleed massive red rivers across my pages and make me question if I should even have license to own a keyboard. HOWEVER! Doing it now doesn't help. In my eyes, I'd rather have a full story with a proper arch, beginning, and ending before I start tearing at the pieces involved. Have to make sure that the overall structure will survive first. In this way, the book versus the initial chapter releases should be decently different both in appearance and design (if not some content as well).

NEXT!

I actually had a very interesting point brought up recently, albeit in a short tempered manner.

"Your story is all up. It's tension and drama and frustration and all it is is a roller coaster that keeps climbing skyward."

To be fair, I actually recognized this as I was writing it. I've learned as well that I'm not too bad at upping and maintaining tension. But, as it were, that's not necessarily the best for any given story. Of course, this depends on the story; but no matter what, simply maintaining an elevated level of tension can leave a reader breathless.

What am I going to do about it?!

Read.

Yes. Read.

Maybe even write!

As mentioned before, the story is going to go through editing before it ever sees printed page (blog posts not withholding). I'm going to read the piece as a whole, not be chapters, and really assess the feeling that it gives. I have already intended (before the commentary on my loopless coaster) to progressively add in more quiet bits (like with the meeting between A'alan't 32 and Darrian), however one of the things I've wanted to maintain in Xenophobia is that it always takes place in the meeting room. This means I will often have the option between drama of discovery and politics OR bueracracy, which is too far in the opposite direction. I can, of course, work in one offs (which is my intent), but I need to make it work rather than simply switching between slamming on the breaks and taking off again on the 'coaster'.

That said, when it's finished, it's going to be reviewed. It's going to be figured out. It's going to be fine tuned. In short, it's going to be read.

So, I hope this allays your fears (you know who you are). As I said before, it was something I've already recognized before hand and had begun to work on, however it will be worked on heaviest when the overarching story is complete.

And that is all for today, lovelies. I'm glad you took the time to join me for a little peek by the curtain, as it were. You can expect Chapter 19 by Thursday to visit just what will be happening with the Tulgucks arriving in our solar system. I do hope you'll join me then. Til then, I hope you have a wonderful day!

- RB

Xenophobia - Chapter 18 (Rewrite!)

    The council sat in eerie silence, watching the image on the hologram. Before them was an operating table with the body of a Guillae sprawled out atop it. Its torso had been opened up and tools were scattered all around it.
    Despite being mid autopsy, no one could be seen attending to the body.
    "What do you think is happening?" asked Ferris quietly.
    Darrian glanced over at him, shook his head, and gave a non-committal shrug before returning his attention to the nearly still image. If it weren't for the blinking lights of a nearby computer console, he'd have thought that the holographic imager had frozen.
    When the Guillae had been taken to the laboratory, the analytics team had acted with surprising fervor. Through some skillful infiltration of the humans' technology, the team had managed to gain control of a camera on one of the personal computers within the lab. All before the first incision had been made.
    It had been very risky, but none of the humans had noticed. They were too preoccupied with the discovery of life outside of their own.
    At first, the lab had been a hive of activity. At least four humans in full protective gear were seen working on the body at any given time. Another dozen could be seen behind the protective interference of a viewfinder that overlooked the operating table. For hours, the council watched and waited.
    The human scientists worked diligently. They slowly began to dissect the long dead Guillae which, to Darrian's surprise, was incredibly well preserved. His guess was that it probably related to the atmosphere of Mars.
    Piece by piece, they would make an incision and investigate what they found. Countless samples were removed. Notes were taken vocally to the computer system as well as by two other humans, one inside and one outside of the lab. They had catalogued at least a hundred or so samples when they found what the council had been waiting for.
    Darrian knew it was a learned behavior, but it didn't make it anymore shocked when he heard the old judge gasp.
    The main scientist slowly and smoothly drew out a long, podlike object from the body of the dead Guillae. It was about a meter long and a half meter wide and reminded him of the samples of "Soy Beans" that the analytics team had sent them from Earth. One of the humans made the same observation but qualified it as being "fuckin' huge". Some of the humans laughed while others chastised him.
    Slowly, carefully, one of the scientists took the pod away somewhere off camera. Darrian could hear a door open and close. A moment later, there was a shout from that same direction and all of the humans looked up. Some of them looked confused, others scared at what they saw. Very quickly, all of them disappeared off screen. All of them running towards where the pod had been taken.
    That had been at least an hour ago.
    The council waited patiently for something to change. They had heard nothing except a clatter of metal about twenty minutes before. Except for that and the blinking lights, the image was seemingly static.
    It would seem that Harris felt the same way.
    As if on cue, the image of the laboratory and the dead Guillae dissolved. It was replaced by Harris' form. To everyone's surprise, he was lounging with the face plate to his robotic exosuit wide open. He looked utterly exhausted.
    "I don't think there's much more to see." he said to the old judge.
    "I agree. Update us when you have more, Captain."
    Harris gave a nod but said nothing else. They could seem him enter a sequence on his control panel before the holographic image disappeared entirely.
    The table sat in silence for another several minutes, digesting what they had seen and what might be happening. No one knew what to say. While they hadn't seen anything "bad" per say, the last images they'd seen of the humans left an uneasy feeling in their guts. Darrian's discussion with A'alan't 32 and the old judge still rang fresh in his mind.
    This could be an exciting learning opportunity. he remembered again for the thousandth time.
    "Well..." said the old judge with a mechanical sigh. "I don't believe there is anything else that we can cover today. If you would, I would like to reconvene-"
    The door of the meeting room slid open as the old judge tried to wrap up the meeting. Many of them didn't bother looking up. They were frankly too tired. It wasn't until the old judge stopped what he was staying and stared at the person who had walked in that Darrian glanced over.
    Jin'thun.
    The heavy set, furry Gorderian made his way towards his spot at the council table. The exhaustion and fear in the room quickly gave way to shock and awe as everyone turned their attention to the long-missing ambassador.
    For a moment, no one said anything. And then, everyone started speaking at once.
    "What did they say?" demanded Ferris.
    "They s-"
    "Where have you been?!" asked Ugul.
    "If you-"
    "What took you so long?" chided A'alan't 32.
    "It was-"
    "Are they going to-" Darrian begin to ask when the old judge bellowed over all of them.
    "ENOUGH!"
    The table fell silent as Jin'thun, looking quite ruffled and annoyed, straightened himself out. The old judge smiled softly.
    "I see you've returned." the old judge said quietly. "It's good to have you back."
    "Thank y-"
    "Yea. Took you long enough." grumbled Cagool.
    Jin'thun jumped from his place and let out a bellowing, threatening roar right in Cagool's face. The slimy little Yool squeaked and looked as if he was attempting to crawl inside himself to get away from the Gorderian's ferocity. He was still quivering when Jin'thun settled back down.
    "Thank you, judge." he finally said, giving everyone a threatening look as he did; as if daring them to try his patience further.
    "Now," he continued, "I come with the results of your plea to my government."
    "And what have the Gorderians decided, Jin'thun?" asked the old judge.
    Jin'thun threw Cagool one more threatening glance, however the Yool was still shaking from his last misstep.
    "The Gorderians will be sending aid to the humans."
    The room let out a collective sigh and Darrian could even hear Ferris let out a quiet "Yes!" under his breath. Everyone looked relieved.
    "That's wonderful, Jin'thun. Your government has our sincerest gratitude."
    "Yes, of c-"
    A loud beeping filled the room as the old judge's datapad began to flash. A priority one message.
    Quickly, he tapped the message and the holographic imager once more glew with life. Harris could be seen once again but this time he looked a great deal more frazzled then before.
    "Harris?" the old judge asked. "What is it?"
    "The Tulgucks." Harris said with barely contained panic. "The Tulgucks are here! They've entered the solar system!"

===

Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)
Previous Chapter 
Start at the Beginning

===

(Hello Lovelies. I do hope that you enjoyed the re-write of Chapter 18. As I mentioned before, I have no intent of making this a regular habit (with the exception of when I do my official editing for the book release) but I felt Chapter 18 was a special exception. I hope you are all doing well and enjoyed the slight alteration compared to the first time it came out.)

Rail Yard Ghost - Guest Author: Samantha Shattles

(Hello Lovelies: As promised, today you get to check out the tale from our guest author, Samantha Shattles. While I normally like to place my words to you at the end of the story, I feel the need to warn that the story in question is a bit more graphic than my own pieces, and I would say reader discretion is advised as the tell contains scenes of gore and suicide. If you're not comfortable with that, no worries whatsoever. You're welcome to return shortly for more Xenophobia. Otherwise, please enjoy the words of Samantha Shattles.

Please note: she currently doesn't have a site of her own, but maybe we can convince her to do so or to join RB Publishing. Either way. Enjoy.)

----

***WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT*** Trigger Warning: Suicide/Gore

We hunkered down in the thicket of wild blackberries next to the tracks. Matisse pulled off his boots and massaged his aching feet. Artemisia wrinkled her nose at the smell coming off her brother's socks. Dante opted to keep his boots on. He became more fascinated by the prospect of fresh produce. I, however, had my eyes glued to the tracks, almost shivering with anticipation at the thought of getting on another train.

"We won't be catching out from here," Dante said, popping a fat berry into his mouth. "Nothing but hotshots. Still gotta hike a ways down. It's an okay place to camp for the night though."

I nodded absently. I was still high on the rush, even though we'd been walking for two days. Dante nudged me, offering a few berries. I popped them into my mouth and felt my face shrivel up at the tartness of them. Better than nothing though.

"I need to piss," Artemisia announced, standing again and trudging off a distance.

"Hey, don't sit in it this time," Matisse called after her.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

The twins cackled in unison. I gave them a scathing look as I shoved another small handful of berries in my mouth. As a girl, going to the bathroom was difficult enough. Having boys around to remind you of mishaps made it that much worse. Artemisia didn't really need my help though. She had dealt with the two since she was four. They weren't even phased by my look.

Matisse waved it off. "She's not really mad. If she was she'd chuck a handful of hot shit on us both. Besides, what are little brothers for?"

A pain twisted in my chest and I looked away, struggling to swallow the fruit over the lump in my throat. I was not going to cry now. Crying wouldn't change a thing about what had happened. But, damn, I missed my own little brother. His cries rang in my skull and I could still almost feel his little arms around me from his last hug. There was no way of knowing if I made the right decision or if I made his life a living hell and there was nothing I could do even if I knew.

"Little brothers are not for pissing off their older sisters," Artemisia snapped, slapping Matisse upside the back of his head with a loud thwack. He just laughed as he rubbed the sore spot, Artemisia shaking out her sore hand. I managed a smile. It was nice to see Matisse laughing. He was too serious most of the time.

I nearly leapt out of my skin as hands cupped my face. Dante was staring at me with a great deal of concern, his thumbs wiping at my cheeks. I had hoped he wouldn't notice. But he did, like he always seemed to and I knew that he knew why I had fat tears rolling down my cheeks. He pressed his lips to mine, softly and chaste. My stomach fluttered but my heart twisted. I wanted to smile and break down at the same time. It was more emotion than I wanted to deal with. He pressed his forehead to mine, his fingers sliding into my hair.

"It's gonna be okay," he said softly. "It's gonna work out. Alex is never going to forget you or how much you love him. You'll see him again."

His other hand took my wrist and he gently stroked my brother's initials tattooed there. I wanted to believe he was right. It was just hard to see it the way he did. Alex was my life, my reason for living through the horrible things I endured. And now I didn't have him anymore. Dante had a lot of empathy for me because he missed his little sister, Georgia. But he knew he could go home whenever he wanted, while I was exiled, so he did his best to comfort me. All I could do was nod along to his words.

"We should play something. Cheer Fox right up," Artemisia chirped. Matisse was already opening his violin case. I nodded quickly at the suggestion. Nothing boosted my morale as much as watching the three of them play.

In no time the thicket was filled with their music: Matisse and his fiddling, Artemisia with her small banjo, and Dante on his travel guitar. Eventually, I joined in with my harmonica, stopping only to sing along to the songs I knew. Punk rock never sounded so good.

Between songs I heard the familiar high singing of the rails. A train was coming. I crawled out of the bushes to watch it go by. Aside from riding the freighters, nothing was better than feeling the blast of wind as one barreled by. Dante was right behind me. I could already see the bright orange engine down the line a ways. They must have spotted us too because the horn shattered the air, sending shivers up and down my body. I heard Dante chuckle.

That was when I saw her, crouched in the grass across the tracks and up the line from us. I'm not sure she saw us, but she probably knew we were there because of the music. I instantly got a bad feeling in my gut, though I wasn't sure why. The train horn blew again and the woman tensed. Dante's fingers curled around my arm and he tugged gently on me. I pulled away, wanting to see the train. It was almost to us, engines roaring and horn blasting. The woman stood up and Dante tugged on me again.

I made a sound as the woman threw herself in front of the train. She was trying to lay on the rail when it hit her with an audible THUMP. She flew a few yards towards us before hitting the ground, the train overtaking her quickly and running right over her. There was a mist of blood and screeching of emergency brakes being applied. Her torso, or what was left of it landed in front of us, dead eyes staring past me. I couldn’t tell if she had been pretty before now, she was just gore on the ground in front of me, around me. The smell was gagging me already.

"Holy shit," I heard Matisse say. "Holy fucking shit."

"We need to go," I heard Artemisia gag out.

I just stared at the pile of oozing meat at my feet. The train was slowing, the screeching deafening. Artemisia was trying not to vomit. Matisse was shuffling around behind me. Dante was talking. And the eyes rolled around one last time. I've lost my god-damned mind, I thought. My legs turned to jelly and I collapsed, screaming. At least, I think it was me screaming. My throat felt shredded after and I was fairly sure my lungs were inside out by the time I stopped. A few seconds felt like hours. Dante hauled me to my feet and gave me a good shake.

"Stop that! We have to go NOW," he barked. He was scared. He gathered me up against him and pulled me along back into the thicket. Matisse had his boots and pack on, looking ready to bolt. Artemisia had already started down the trail, not waiting for her brothers or me. Dante shoved my pack into my arms and pushed me along as he grabbed his own things. I stumbled over a rock and Matisse caught me before I could eat shit. I heard the train jolt to a halt finally as we followed Artemisia's tracks.

I was on autopilot. I had never seen anything so horrible in my life. Sure, I had cleaned up roadkill and half eaten, maggot infested rodents that my cats or coyotes had killed. But that been a person. I had just watched a person die. I saw a person get obliterated. And Dante had known it was going to happen. He had tried to pull me away from it.

I was numb for the rest of the day and well into the night. None of us felt like playing music when we finally made camp for the night. Artemisia, tough as nails, went a little ways from camp to cry privately. Matisse followed her just to watch her back in case of any big animals that might want to make a meal of her. I stayed with Dante while he made a fire. He was quiet while at his task. I sat cross legged with my pack in my lap, hugging it tightly.

 

"You knew," I said finally, my throat still hurting a bit.

He nodded.

"How?"

"Not the first time I've seen it," he sighed.

 

Not the first time? He had seen something that awful before? And he was okay? I reached out and touched his shoulder. He sighed again.

"It was while we were on the road. Some rest stop in gods only know where. My folks had stopped the bus. Smoke break. Pee break. Some kind of break. Matisse and I were maybe... 8? He was in the bathrooms with Mom and Artemisia. Dad was checking the engine or whatever and I wanted to help. A train was coming and I got excited. Then all the sudden, this guy got out of his car and just ran up to the tracks...."

I stared at him. He said nothing else, just prodded the log in our little camp fire with a big stick. I scooted closer to him until I was right against his side.

"I've seen people fall under trains while catching out," he continued. "Dumb first timers who read an article on it and thought they could do it. I've seen people killed at rail crossings because they were dumb enough to think they could actually beat a fucking train."

I put my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and sighed again, rubbing my shoulder gently. "I've seen a lot of shit, Foxy. A lot of shit. I'm sorry you had to see it too."

"Why do people do it like that," I asked, sadly. "It's so fucked up."

"It's fucked up any way you do it," he replied. "There is no clean way to kill yourself. You're always going to fuck up the people around you by doing it. Especially the person who is unfortunate enough to find you after."

I nodded. I had no room to talk. I had scars up and down my arm from trying to find a way out of my misery. No wonder Dante was reluctant to let me come out here with him and Matisse. He'd seen some shit. He was afraid I'd get an idea to do it. Maybe he was scared that seeing it would make me want to do it. I shuddered hard and his arm tightened around me as he prodded the log again.

"Do you think Artemisia is okay," I asked.

"She will be. She's never seen a suicide like that before but she's seen her fair share of shit. She will cry it out and then it'll be like it never happened. That's how she rolls."

"And Matisse?"

He shrugged. "Same as me."

"You?"

"Okay. I got you to look after. You?"

"I feel fucked up," I said, sullenly. "Like... I don't know how to describe it. It's just..."

I gave up trying to put it into words. His head rested on mine and I knew he didn’t expect me to keep trying to explain it. He already knew because he had been in my shoes before. I sighed and then yawned. I was exhausted but I had no desire to sleep. And definitely none to eat. Sex was also out of the question. I just stared into the fire until my eyes watered, hoping the heat would burn the image of gore out of my skull eventually. Booze sounded like a fantastic idea, but we were at absolute zero there too. There was nothing for it.

Making some Changes

Hello Lovelies,

So, I wanted to take a moment and do something that I don't think I've ever done before. It's not something I intend to make any habit of in the future and generally would like to have a better control on but...

I would like to rework the last chapter I posted.

I know. It's a touch unprofessional. But as it stands I'm just not satisfied with Xenophobia Chapter 18. I don't think I need to tell anyone that yesterday was...a day.

I'm sure plenty of you know I'm American. While I always try to avoid saying anything about my political affiliation or influencing anyone in any given direction, the election yesterday deeply affected me. It's given me legitimate fears about the safety of my loved ones, my friends, and my family and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that there was discussion of immigration elsewhere due to fear that those I care about might be hurt or killed in the coming months or years.

That said: I wasn't at my best yesterday. While I tried my damnedest to focus, I was unable to and it affected the quality of the work. On top of that, I forgot some things that I had meant to include (a very big 'thing' actually).

So, as it stands, I intend to rework the chapter and re-release it. My intent is to post the redo tomorrow. After that, we will likely post the work from our guest author, Samantha Shattles, on Friday.

I sincerely apologize again and have no intent to make this a regular happenstance. I always try to release quality pieces but, as it stands, I was not mentally in a great place yesterday and would feel worse about leaving subpar material out there instead of owning up and fixing it. Have a wonderful day, lovelies.

- RB

Xenophobia - Chapter 18

    "What do you think is happening?" asked Ferris.
    Darrian looked over at him and shrugged before returning his gaze to the hologram over the conference table. Before him floated the image of the long dead Guillae that lay quietly on a cold metal operating table.
    Through some skillful infiltration of the humans' technology, the analytics' team had managed to gain control of a camera on one of the personal computers within the laboratory environment. It had been risky, but none of the humans had noticed. They were too preoccupied with their discovery.
    At first, the laboratory the humans brought the Guillae to had been a hive of activity. At least a dozen humans could be seen milling about at any given time while four others operated carefully on the body. For hours, the council watched as the human scientists dissected, examined, and catalogued the specimen carefully.
    Finally, the main scientist extracted a long slender object from the Guillae that Darrian felt positive was a seed pod based on its appearance. The scientist had fled in excitement somewhere off camera. He was just as quickly followed by everyone else in the surgical theater.
    That had been over an hour ago.
    The council waited patiently. Watching. They listened for any sounds or watched for any movement, but nothing came.
    As time passed, Darrian felt more uneasy. What was happening behind closed doors? While the analytics team had been good, there were inherent risks to infiltrating the human systems and it was even more dangerous to try and hop around until they found anything. They simply couldn't risk looking around further.
    It would seem that Harris felt the same.
    As if on cue, the image of the laboratory blanked out in favor of Harris' form. He was lounging with the face plate of his robotic exosuit wide open and looked exhausted.
    "Update us when you have more, Captain." said the old judge placidly.
    "Of course." groaned Harris, who entered a sequence on his control panel before the image disappeared completely.
    It was hardly proper protocol, but Darrian didn't feel like he could blame Harris. He looked like Darrian felt at this point.
    The table sat in silence for several minutes. No one knew what to say. While they certainly hadn't seen anything bad, they had all been left with an uneasy feeling about what was happening on Mars. It didn't help that they'd been in the meeting far longer than intended.
    "Well..." said the old judge with a mechanical sigh. "I don't believe there is anything else we can cover today-"
    The door of the meeting room slid open, grabbing the attention of some of the over-tired councilors. They looked over with dreary interest until they saw who it was.
    Jin'thun.
    Darrian sat straight up and many of the councilors looked at him agape with awe.
    "I see you've returned." said the old judge, nonplussed.
    A wave of annoyance passed over the Gorderian ambassador's features, but he quickly made his way towards his place at the table. All at once, the table exploded in a buzz of questions and excitement.
    "I have-" started Jin'thun.
    "What did they say?" demanded Ferris.
    "If you-"
    "Where have you been?!" asked Ugul.
    "Look-"
    "Enough!" snapped the old judge, bellowing over the noise.
    The table fell silent except for Jin'thun who sat there, his eyes closed and a deep guttural growl emanating from his throat.
    "Thank y-"
    "Took you long enough." grumbled Cagool incredulous.
    Jin'thun let forth a bellowing roar in Cagool's face and jumped from his seat. Many of the other councilors recoiled and Darrian felt surprised that the Gorderian hadn't taken a swing at the Yool right there.
    "Now." growled Jin'thun, looking around the table as if daring someone else to interrupt him. "I come with the results of your plea."
    "And what has the Gorderian government decided upon, Jin'thun?"
    The ambassador eyed Cagool menacingly but the Yool simply shuddered where he sat.
    "We will be sending aid to the humans."

===

Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)
Previous Chapter 
Start at the Beginning

===

Schedule Changes and New Writers

Hello Lovelies,

I wanted to take a moment today and address a change I intend on making. For anyone who has been following me for a while, you've surely noticed some ups and downs when it comes to making schedules. More recently, I have moved from trying to do something everyday to something every other day in favor of every other day.

There's a couple of reasons for this.

First off, when I was producing every day, my goal was just that: raw production. Keep myself working. Keep myself going. And just keep making THINGS. However, since I've started working on Xenophobia, I've had a different purpose. Writing for the purpose of telling and completing the story. It's a great deal more satisfying and allows for more structure without rampant randomness.

So, given I've had a number of changes recently from a medical and career standpoint, I'm going to embrace this change. My current goal is to produce every other day with the exception of Friday. This means that all new writings should be put out on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Three times a week. I feel it's a good goal that is more feasible to meet, more reliable for readers, and allows me to produce high quality content without tearing out my beard hair.

One last thing! I know once in a while, I've received the question of "why I call it RB Publishing"? The answer is: I never intended to work this alone, but rather as an opportunity to publish multiple authors. I wanted to use my own site and my own works to draw attention to other talented writers and artists. As such, I'm happy to say that we will be adding a wonderful young author to our midst in the coming days. I don't know how often she might join us, but keep an eye out for her works here soon. ;)

That's all for the day. I intend to put out the next chapter for Xenophobia tomorrow (per the schedule), but I felt it would be better to give you guys a proper journal entry than simply tacking it onto the bottom of the chapter. I hope all is well and wish you the best!

- RB

Xenophobia - Chapter 17

    "I don't understand." said Darrian in confusion. "What do you mean that the Guillae would work to the humans' benefit?"
    "Just that." A'alan't 32 stated. "The Guillae aren't some conquering race. They're little more than sentient plants. Their goal is to grow, not destroy."
    Darrian stared at her in disbelief, trying to put together what little that he'd heard before. He realized that this was next to nothing, with the exception that they tended to destroy any planet they inhabited for an extended period of time.
    That's when the question occurred to him.
    "Wait. How do you even know this?"
    "As I said," A'alan't 32 responded with that cautionary tone of annoyance he'd heard before. "I've been researching them since they were first mentioned."
    Darrian considered the silence he'd received from the old judge. The blank archive entries he'd found when he'd gone to investigate. The security clearance required when he asked about the hard copies of data.
    "I gave up looking after the first cycle." he admitted. "Where'd you find this supposed research?"
    Her expression softened and she appeared bemused.
    "I think you forget that I'm not bound to Consortium resources. My species was old when the Merrenians were first crawling about in the dirt. Long before you ever discovered robotics and even longer before you founded the little council we hold now."
    Ignoring what felt like an unnecessary jab at his species, Darrian asked, "So this is Bivvie knowledge then? Local archives or something?"
    A'alan't 32 nodded softly in agreement.
    "We've been studying the cosmos for a very long time." she said with a tone that showed there was no condescension; she was stating a cold, hard fact.
    Darrian studied her for a moment, choosing his words. He'd wondered about this creatures since they were first mentioned and here was a possible wellspring of knowledge. Yet...
    "Why didn't you bring this up earlier? When the old judge refused to answer."
    "For the same reason." she said. "If the old judge did not want to answer any questions, then I would imagine he wouldn't much like it if I shared what I knew."
    A bad feeling tugged at the back of his mind. The Consortium's purpose was knowledge. Review. Understanding. Why would they not want knowledge shared? The Bivvie almost never shared their hidden knowledge, so the fact that they would share something sooner than the Consortium was even stranger.
    "Fine." he said, feeling like she wouldn't give him anymore of an answer if he tried to dig. "You said that you think the Guillae might work to the humans' benefit. Why?"
    A'alan't 32 drifted around the large meeting table and settled by his side. At this distance, he could see little crackles of blue energy that seemed to bubble beneath her semi-transparent skin.
    "Well," she began, "as a whole they don't really seem to intend harm to anyone. At least, no anyone who hasn't directly harmed them first."
    "But they destroy planets?"
    "Strictly speaking. The Guillae are some confused cross between symbiotic and parasitic, in nature. The atmospheric disturbances and depressurization are a byproduct of their existence. It's not intentional."
    "Symbiotic?"
    "Do you remember the hologram of Mars? Back when the Guillae inhabited it?"
    Darrian thought back to the image. To the blue, brown, and green orb that turned into a brilliant, emerald sphere before his eyes.
    "I know it turned green." he said with a nod.
    "The Guillae expand. It's in their nature. They build and they grow, but not in the same way most civilized races do. They have a love of living things."
    "Are you suggesting that..."
    "I'm suggesting that, unlike most other races, they have a disinterest in trading soil for metal." she said sharply, cutting him off.
    Darrian stared at her quietly. At her blue, fluttering form. How she seemed to be there and not at the same time.
    He'd heard before that the Bivvie hadn't looked this way long ago, but rather had made themselves this way over eons of technological advancements. Pushing themselves to see how far they could go. Pushed so hard that they seemed to exist almost as an energy form more than a being of life and blood.
    "The Guillae..." she said with a sigh, "They tend to help those around them. They help them flourish. They've even been responsible for some sentient races escaping their planets long before the destruction of their atmosphere."
    "So, if the humans resurrect the dead Guillae...Ressurect? Is that right?"
    "Birth more might be more appropriate."
    It didn't feel like it, but he wasn't going to argue.
    "If they manage to birth more Guillae, you think they might help the humans then? Somehow?"
    "It seems likely based on what I've seen about the species."
    Darrian felt a weight start to lift off his chest. There was still the threat of the Tulgucks en route. Yet, the idea that the humans weren't going to wake some kind of monster was reassuring.
    "The only thing is..." A'alan't32 said quietly.
    "Is what?"
    A'alan't 32 remained quiet for a moment, seemingly staring through him. He got the sense that she was struggling with whether or not to tell him something.
    "Well, you already figured out that they feed off of water." she said.
    "Correct. It's why they target water heavy planets. Right?"
    She nodded.
    "Well, the humans have an oddly high water content. Anything from fifty to seventy five percent." she said thoughtfully.
    "You think they will attack the humans then?" Darrian asked quickly, feeling panic swell again.
    "No. No." she said quickly, shaking her head. "Not attack."
    "But...what...?"
    Once again, she simply to stare through him. Thinking. Debating.
    "It's nothing." A'alan't 32 finally said with that same reassuring tone from earlier. "I'm just overthinking things."
    Standing from her place at the table, she gave him another little smile before making her way for the door.
    "Have a good evening, Darrian."
    "And you, A'alan't 32."
    He watched her go, but didn't move. He couldn't help but feel she'd intentionally cut him off. Like she knew something that she had thought better of to share. If the Guillae wouldn't attack the humans, what would there to be worry about? 
    This could prove to be an exciting learning opportunity. The old judge's words echoed in his mind as he made his way for the door and back towards his office.

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