SCIENCE&ARTWORK | THE HOKU | STELLAR ERA

FINAL YEARS OF THE PRE-STELLAR ERA

At the time of the Great War, there were six great nations at odds with one another.

• Ent'Shelari Republic
• Dahetian Republics
• Hukatian Empire
• North and South Sidessia (in civil war)
• Kalopan Empire
• Farkade Union

Heavily disputing control of the globe at least for the past century or two.

Thrown against each other in dirty resource wars to feed their ever expanding industry and war machine, regional conflicts soon had these powers meet with each other. Fully bloomed world war. Each fighting on multiple fronts against multiple declared enemies - both deploying terrible weapons against one another, just as soon as they were developed live on the frontlines.

The armsrace had made it so the sun hadn't shined in half a decade. Records of this time are rare and sparse, often removed from context by the movements of the tribes that remained. Legend has it, a small circle of generals accorded to finally put a stop to the massacre. It is unclear if the technology was intentionally leaked, or if it developed independently. But someone had finally split the atom. It didn't matter to that circle who had it, they knew it had to be used if they wanted to fix the world, if they wanted to reset the cycle of violence. If the world had to be burned so it could truly flourish again, if all flags had to be burned to unite everyone, so it had to be done.

It was the last day of summer, 92 PSE.

600 million gone in an instant.

The ash, the radiation, and the scavengers, claimed the remaining 6 billion in the following decade.

YEAR ZERO

The southern regions of the world, mostly a vast sea populated by a single continent, were largely unaffected by the exchange and its effects. Without global trade or ultramarine enemies left to fight. The handfull of organized groups and states that remained in the south continent coalesced into the Commonwealth of Sidessia.

Though, the reality of the aftermath of the nuclear war is that most of the northern lands were far too razed to occupy. Though nature always found a way to creep back in. And so the Commonwealth learned quickly. They too had to adapt.

Engineers, doctors and ecologists alike worked to create variants of known crops and cattle, resistant to the radiation, resistant to the terrible climate that slowly waned... Then it occurred to them, if designing was the key to survival in a new world - then why not redesign themselves?

The result of these decades of research, questionable, inhumane, but deemed VITAL research, were the Kahikōpafi (better translated as "divine servant", or crudely "angel"). The Angels were a mass-produceable workforce designed to clear and re-settle the northern wastelands. Greater resistance, greater strength, superior intellect, balanced by constant work-load, constant oversight, and short lifespans. Easily spotted by their characteristic looks, it was almost impossible to miss those 'elite slaves' amidst the public - and oh they tried.

As the employment of Angels grew. So did the public sentiment that these beings were something else, something more than mere tools sent to work in no-man's-land, something more than lead-soldiers to be cast and mowed down by conflict.

Each generation of Angels meant a different conflict between demand, performance, and the public perception. Different skillsets, different lifespans, different patches in behavior patterns and social skills. Even limited breeding generations for the farthest reaches of the land.

Them Angels fought hard to earn a spot. And a well deserved spot indeed, they had brought that world up from the ashes almost entirely on their own. By the time of the Somoga Event, it had been almost three centuries the Angels had become the Hoku's right hand.

And the promise of freedom came with one last pharaonic task - run for the stars.

Within a few years of building the Somoga Square Zaega Array (Okuiuka Zaaega Iutso det Somoga, O.Za.I.So. literal for Plateau), a radio telescope range, the Somoga Event happened. A stream of radio, gamma rays and radiation all across the high energy spectrum. Peaking on a cluster of stars in Hokushoku's celestial south. The energy levels required to produce such an event from this distance - the physicists reckoned, would require destruction on a planetary scale - compatible with the deployment of a theoretical superweapon, a relativistic missile. No other explanations satisfied the case.

They had barely any chance to ask themselves if they were alone. The forest echoed a roar back at them.

GOLDEN STELLAR ERA

Sending Angels and Hoku to nearby planets in their own system was quite above ordinary - compared to what they had previously achieved on the surface of their homeworld. Settling their neighboring ice world of Namenza with a permanent Angel and Hoku population. But looking up at the stars, require some far more sophisticated leaps.

The Specter, as the Chelok call them, was a natural step in manning missions sent to distant moons, planets - and then stars. The specter chassis varied with the designated tasks, from being simple cores operating whole factories, to UAVs and UTVs, down to being more avipodomorphic with recognizable and relatable faces and expressions, working as police, healthcare, or assistant units worldwide and offworld.

The development of better and even more autonomous AI allowed the hoku to dare sending precurssor missions at various extra-solar planets during their first stellar era, both habitable and uninhabitable worlds, these robotic missions had the same intent of their first efforts, pave infraestructure and acquire intel for the upcoming organic population, once they figured how the hell one does safely traverse interstellar space.

Auot'zae never became habitable again in its full extension because of the still radioactive zones, but the fallout had thinned enough in areas which could be treated and recovered with work. Because many northern cultures and technologies were lost, groups of kahikopafis adopted the ancient languages, and custoums of these lost civilizations as their own, while some created entirely new ways to have a sense of ownership over their fates, hence why we see the reapperance of old tongues such as Hukat and Entselari throughout off-world populations later on.

The Dominion is densely populated with stars, however, many of these harbor dead or gaseous worlds. Very few were deemed high-priority targets for the Hoku's purpose: Escape the Dominion grasp, whatever it was.

The closest of such worlds was aptly named Muhori (in Sidessian mythology, it is an island where demigods reside), some 20 light-years from the Paza system. A brand new, barren and young, oceanic world.

In their early attempts to settle this distant jewel, the Hoku also independently developed what they would later recognize as the modern Starlane. An excavated "tube" in the interstellar medium that allows for safe relativistic travel.

The first crewed ships to cross the void were egg-ships, which incubated an Angel crew in the final two decades of their century-long trip to settle Muhori. Though specter crews were sent to that and other likely target at close to twice that speed.

In the 1000 years since the last great war, the Hoku Expanse (Azapaxako Hoku) had already set foot on five new worlds beyond its home system. But not all worlds were as welcoming as Muhori.

FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE CHELOK

One world called their attention heavily. Qekohoshoku - the golden world. A tropical world with golden vegetation reminiscent of their own homeworld. When the Expanse got there in 734 SE (7,929 of the Ecumenical Era, by Chelok reckoning), they met a local population of Chelok. Their first contact with alien society which they weren't aware existed at the time.

The locals received their extraterrestrial visitors with warm, and told stories of the greater Chelok domain, a string of 'island nations' that crossed straight through the Expanse's claim to the heavens. The population of Qekohoshoku however, was an estranged strain of the Chelok Empire, the presence of the Expanse would be tolerated, but deals and commerce would probably have better success dealing straight with the administrative core of humanity, at Dheghom.

And so the Hoku did use what they had learned on Qekohoshoku and took their case to Dheghom - albeit on a cautious foot.

Meeting the Chelok was a far more underwhelming event than what the tales and the allure for the strange would have you believe. Very few trips, mostly letters through beamed lasers. To the Hoku, they seemed far too firmly planted in place, far too preoccupied with themselves, far too unconcerned about whatever it was they witnessed almost a millenium ago.

'The Dominion'. It had a name, and the Chelok knew of it, had dealt with it. They were there at its founding. With a concerned expression, they told the Hoku what they knew. From what they understood, they had little to fear for themselves in the time being, but they also didn't condemn the Expanse's posture about keeping their distance of it, lest they did not cross humanity.

The exchanges between the Chelok Empire and the Hoku Expanse marked the end of the golden stellar era, and the start of the lower stellar era.

LOWER STELLAR ERA

In 1739 SE, an Expanse expedition mission stumbled on another silent civilization around their north celestial hemisphere. The Nan-Nan of Anaya. A world just shy of 25 light-years from the Expanse colony of Voliloshoku. A race of stout water-adjacent reptilians, highly empathetic, idealistic and curious beings, just getting the hang of launching their first satellites. Peacefully integrated them into the Expanse via various technology trade accords. A significant fraction of Nan-Nan now lives in multiple hoku worlds and trade routes.

It had been almost a thousand years since their meeting with the Chelok. During a uneventful winter night of 1977 SE, a strange object pierced the comet cloud of the Muhori system at hyperbolic velocity, recorded in photographic plates that wouldn't be revised until decades later.

Ground telescopes looked for any new comets for that season, but amongst the bright comets they noticed outgassing and ices spraying and settling on the surface of a very dark object past the asteroid belt, later observation lead to finding the object in a very inclined and hypebolic trajectory, which meant the object did not originate from within the systems sparse comet cloud, instead, it pointed the heart of the Dominion... Authorities kept the existence of the object a top secret and limited the use of large telescopes to avoid employees and students from leaking the news, they only had a six-year window to study the object before it were catapulted out the system. It took a few weeks for the rendezvouz with the object, within a month of mission Kooratalil (in hoku mythology, the serpent that guards the gates of the Underworld) decent visual contact with the object could be made, about 752 meters long, a constellation of debris surrounded the bulky halved starship, the dark metal coating the lizard-like armor plates were flaking away due at least four millenia of micrometeorite impacts.

Exploring the ship revealed that this half seemed to be the lower deck and engine module of a sort of warship, given the amount of warheads and antimatter storage equipment, no crew in sight, but enough biological samples were collected for several species to be cloned in-vitro back on Muhori by our xenobiologists. To this day a top secret, maybe buried under files no one alive knows about.

The warship couldn't be slowed down without risking being too public about it, and so the government scanned and collected everything they could about it and allowed it to drift away into space. The problem with the whole secrecy of the operation is that you can't tell people not not go there because you don't want them to know something is actually there. Less than 3 years later, the crew of a comet-mining ship stumbled upon the dark vessel, taking time to document, explore and stream it for the whole world to see, while they attempted to jump-start it for several days, too far to be jumped upon by the authorities, they finally managed to turn the warship on, which immediately cried for help before being shut off. The crew of the Pearly Tear IV was trialed and executed for high treason in-situ upon arrival of the navy.

"THE PING"

... As the event would come to later be called by the public was a day of panic worldwide, for centuries the consensus was that the we were safe for as long as they kept moving away from the Dominion, and now that the Ping was sent, it was only a matter of a century or two before They showed up inside the Hoku Expanse. Although the panic was quickly settled out by the authorities, various commands and investments were issued in further developing weapons and combat ships for a possible disastrous first contact with the races of the Dominion, this Lower Stellar Era had its development focusing on faster and smaller maneuverable starships, energy-based and relativistic weapons.

The intent of miniaturizing combat-able ships and starships was to ease in the manufacturing effort and the formation of potential resistance militias across Hoku space. This wasn't much of a problem due the common traditions of the spacefaring peoples, there was no shortage of work and technological niche opportunities in the industry, and the time for the outsider's arrival had been set into the foreseeable future, thus infighting almost completely ceased.

Soon enough, many of the hoku born into the LSE were enrolled into local militias, interstellar patrol groups and radar stations across known space, waiting for the Dominion to respond to the ping.

The Chelok at their nearby homeworld of Dhéģhōm were the first to detect the ping some 50 years later, and immediately frowned upon the trading with us, because they were bringing the Dominion closer to them and such an encounter could have unpleasant consequences.

At the time being, the south polar star of Auot'zae, Kuoosate'zapa (or Forzai, by its arrene name) was the nearest Dominion system and the first to respond the Ping. The message took 78 years to reach Forzai, a decade-long discussion resulted into an escorted First Contact fleet with ten vessels. Which weren't noticed until their decelleration plume shone at the edge of the comet cloud like a nova directed at them.

THE HOKU JOIN THE DOMINION

It was then, in 2239 SE, that the Dominion revealed themselves to the Hoku, not as a monolith. But as multi-race 'colaborative framework'. Chelok members, the Ygiv, a few Saffi, the Arrene, and ONE Qire science officer.

They refuse to elaborate on the nature of the events that created the Somoga Event, testimonies are hard to cross - but they do make it clear it was not going to happen ever again.

The Dominion has plenty of space and resources for both civilizations thousands of times over, there was nothing the we personally had that was of interest to them, except our known biospheres, which as arguably non-negotiable given the scale of the Arrene force. Private groups however had great interest in trading and learning the ways of the hoku to sell their culture and artifacts as novelties back in the Dominion's capital worlds.

Many Hoku, mainly as researchers, opted for returning with the diplomatic fleet to the heart of the Dominion to learn more and establish a viable pacific presence within, in such a way as to have a representative seat within the community. This was quite a historic moment for both parties, for the arrene, it would be a chance to start pacific relations from the start with a new race. Given the first encounters with the Chelok and Qire were pretty disastrous, not to speak from the outright oppressive way they colonized the Yigiv people before they became a spacefaring civilization as preemptive action.

The Hoku are considered to have joined as soon as the diplomatic fleet knocked at their doorstep, although bureocracy held that a few decades to be effected. Shortly followed by the Nan-Nan, a century after. Though more like an alternate arm of the Dominion, a distant neighbor state rather than part of it, nonetheless given the power and technological disparity, many saw the relationship as a creeping assimilation. It was not without reason, the hoku had clear motives to gulp, being under a Qire Duke's command at times.

DOMINION ERA

With a population of 40 billion at the time, the Hoku Expanse had no shortage of work to be done, though many repetitive tasks were acomplished by machinery, we were reaching a near post-scarcity societal stage, with very few places struggling with obtaining sustenance or resources and only for a lack of heavy equipment, since the off-world colonies needed vast amounts of supplies and tech coming from the core worlds in order the keep productivity and growth rate. The terrible weather and acessibility meant many of those colonies would make it cheaper to manufacture machinery in nearby asteroids, moons, or simply import it from the Dominion's merchant flocks and scout ships. So while the core worlds and capital colonies across the Expanse concentrated the Hoku tech and prowess, the Dominion basically taught colonists how to survive in those extreme environments in which the we were just barely able to settle, given the greater reliability in delivery times by the faster Arrene and Qire ships.

Because of the political reasons behind the expanse, colonies never had any necessity of rebel against the Hoku domain because they weren't really being pressured to produce any goods, their only goal was to be there as a backup in case of catastrophic fail of mainland society, of course, from time to time, companies, private groups, and the navy would bring new technology, goals, and gratifications to the most succesful settlements. Over time, several moon, belter, and farmer colonies were simply abandoned by succeeding generations, because of lack of greater opportunity and goals, with populations migrating towards the core worlds and even venturing into the dominion.

Though the Expanse did not posess any goods that peaked further interest within the Dominion, apart from the occasional novelties, the paved starlanes were still of importance for Dominion scouts and researchers because it signified safe paths to reaching further regions of space of particular interest like nebulae and potentially habitable star systems, without risking slow and dangerous trips across the frontier. Allowing them to remain close to civilization in case of emergencies while they venture into uncharted space.

This state of peace lasted 1000 Chelok-years, and were recorded as one of the most prosperous periods in Hoku history. A period before the 'Unrelenting Force' came upon us...

NO STARS ABOVE THEM | FINAL

Seven days...

The world had been ground down to a fine, grey paste. The swamp was a photograph left out in the rain, all detail bleached away by a fog that clung to everything. It didn’t move. It just was, a wet, silent shroud over still black water and the bones of dead trees.

Five military trucks, their green paint scoured down to bare, scarred metal, formed a slow-moving caravan through the murk. They were the last clenched fist of an army that no longer existed, now just a shell protecting the soft, breathing things inside.

In the back of the third truck, under stained canvas, the survivors sat in silence. Everyone wore a mask. The adults had the blank, round eyepieces of standard-issue respirators. The children wore pathetic, handmade things. Scarves and cloth fitted over scavenged filter canisters. The little girl slept against Gora’s side, her breath rattling softly. Kalene was a ball of silent shivers in Lalene’s lap, his eyes too wide, seeing nothing.

Lalene’s other arm held nothing. The space where Favo should have been was a cold, aching void.

Beside her, Chase sat with his back rod-straight, a monument to duty in a world that had forgotten the word. His chassis was a log of fresh damage: black burns across his chest plate, a deep dent in one shoulder that made his arm hang at a wrong angle. In one hand, he turned the steelglass data chip over and over. His glowing eyes were dim, fixed on the middle distance, processing nothing.

The air bit with a cold that seeped into the bones. From the uniform grey above, a thin, silent snow fell. It wasn’t snow. It was ash. The powdered remains of cities and forests and lives, falling in a gentle, perpetual funeral. It was already inches deep, softening the outlines of the wreckage that littered the swamp: the hulk of a main battle tank sat half-sunk beside the colossal, segmented leg of a fallen Strider, both just strange, grey shapes under the same blanket.

The lead truck’s brakes groaned. The convoy shuddered to a halt.

A figure climbed onto its hood, movements stiff with a tiredness deeper than muscle. His gray uniform was a Vice-Admiral’s, or it had been. Now it was torn and stained, the gold thread tarnished black. A battered greatcoat was draped over his shoulders. He raised a pair of thermal binoculars, scanning the solid wall of fog ahead.

The ash settled on his greasy hair, swept back from a face of sharp angles and deeper shadows. A old, y-shaped scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw, pale against the grime.

Vice-Admiral Tityus Kyte.

One week ago, his voice had moved fleets from the bridge of the *HNS Resolute*. Now he was squinting into a poisoned mist, pathfinding for a convoy of ghosts.

He lowered the binoculars. His breath fogged the inside of his mask. He didn’t speak.

— Sir? — Captain Alira Vos climbed up beside him, her own uniform hanging loose.

— One-five. Three-fifteen. And nine hours... — Kyte didn’t look at her. His voice was a dry rasp.

Vos nodded. The last echoes of a broken command.

Kyte finally turned his head. His eyes, dark and sunk deep, met hers through their lenses.

— Tell everybody to keep their heads down. Fire on my sign.

Vos gave a ghost of a salute and dropped down, moving between the trucks, whispering the order to the haggard marines and specters.

A minute bled into the silence. Just the idle rumble of engines.

Then, from the heart of the fog, a shape. A rocket, trailing fire. It screamed out of the grey, missing the hood by less than a meter, searing the air past Kyte’s head. It struck the drowned tank behind them. Mud and metal fragments rained down. Kyte didn’t flinch.

— FIRE!

His own voice was a raw tear in the quiet. He drew his sidearm, a heavy, six-chambered silvery revolver, and fired into the fog.

BOOM

Muzzle flashes answered from the whiteness. Not the red screech of alien plasma. The sharp, familiar crack of Hoku rifles. Figures in rags and scavenged armor advanced from behind the bone-trees. Desperate, sunken faces. They fired at the trucks, at the marines who returned fire from behind wheels and fenders.

The fight was short, brutal, and almost silent. No screams, no shouts. Just the mechanical trade of death.

It was over in less than a minute. The ambushers fell, or bled back into the fog. Silence returned, now heavy with the stink of cordite and opened bodies. Kyte stood on the hood, his revolver still extended. He pulled the trigger.

*Click.*

He cycled the drum.

*Click.*

He pulled again.

*Click.*

The gun was empty. His bandaged hands trembled violently, working the mechanism over and over, the dry *clicks* sounding like a broken clock. His shoulders began to shake.

A sound escaped his mask, distorted. A wet choke. Then a ragged, heaving sob that twisted in his throat into a sharp, broken laugh. Another sob, another laugh, tangling together into a manic, shuddering crescendo. He threw his head back and yelled at the shrouded, ashen sky. A raw, wordless howl of grief, rage, and absolute defeat.

Tears cut clean tracks through the filth on his scarred face behind the mask.

Vos watched her commander come apart. She gave him ten seconds of the awful sound. Then she turned away, her face set like stone.

— Search the bodies. — her voice was flat, final. — All ammunition. All weapons. Any food, any medicine. Leave nothing useful.

The marines moved out, grimly efficient. They rolled over the dead, men and women in militia rags and tattered army gear. Starving faces, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide even in death. They had died for a few cans of rations and half-spent power cells.

Gora watched from the truck bed, her arm tightening around the little girl. Lalene pulled Kalene’s face into her chest, shielding him. She didn’t need to see. She understood. This was the market now. This was the economy. Chase’s head turned, his head tracking a marine picking up a dropped rifle. His hand closed into a fist around the data chip, its edges biting into his synthetic palm. The chip held the blueprint of the enemy, their purpose, their flaws. The most vital intelligence of the age. It was worth less than the half-eaten nutrient bar being pulled from a dead man’s pocket.

Kyte’s laughter died, guttering out into shuddering silence. He lowered the empty revolver, his whole body sagging. He wiped his face with a bandaged hand, smearing ash and tears. He took a long, ragged breath that fogged his mask, then another, forcing air in and out until the tremors stilled.

He looked at his marines looting the dead, the swallowing fog, the gentle, cursed ashfall. He looked back at the trucks, at the masked, silent faces in the gloom.  Vos climbed back up, handed him a canteen. Kyte took it, swished the water in his mouth, spat a dark stream into the grey at his feet.

— Mount up, — Kyte said, his voice a hollow scrape once more, all feeling burned out. — We’re burning daylight.

The engines revved. The convoy lurched forward, leaving the fresh dead to the quiet swamp and the soft, ceaseless ash. It fell on the coastal cities turned to fused glass a thousand kilometers away. It fell on the gutted hulls of starships in silent orbit. It fell on the massive, indifferent ships that still drank the seas, their work uninterrupted.

In 02.35/3504 AdF, Hokushoku and its planet-wide security forces fell after twenty seven hours of resistance against the Unrelenting Force.

But in the silent, grey twilight of the world that was left behind, the true battle for the surface had just begun.

— M.O. Valent, 01/12/2025

<< PART 6

NO STARS ABOVE THEM | PART 6

— Chase? Chase! FUCK, WAKE UP CHASE! — Gora shook Chase hard. He didn’t budge, only slumped off the horn.

— What is happening? Is he okay? — Lalene leaned forward from the back seat.

— Stay back, ma’am. — Gora extended a hand towards her. And gave up on shaking Chase. She popped open the panel at the back of his neck and flipped the manual override, nothing. — Shit. He’s completely off… — she tried turning the car on again, but the car didn’t respond. — … This is bad, bad, bad…

— Talk to us, dammit! What the hell is happening? — the man behind her seat pushed and shook it up.

— … Fine! We are cooked, is what happened. An EMP must have disabled all electronics in the whole state area. — Gora bursted out and unlatched her seatbelt.

— An EMP? What-

— Doesn’t matter. We need to leave the city, now! Because-

Suddenly a damp and dry crack roared from all directions, deafening fading and echoing in between the buildings like a roaring thunder as nearly every window shattered and cracked, as a faint orange light glowed from beyond the clouds. Both the man and Lalene covered the children as the windows cracked and the car got rained on by glass.

— Everyone okay? — Gora checked on them. — I’m glad I never got any implants.

— My left eye’s gone! I can’t see! — the man groaned, clutching his face.

— We can get you a doctor and find a new eye at the camp. I need someone to help me ditch Chase. We can’t afford to wait for him to reboot, that is, if he’s still with us. — Gora left the car and opened the back door. — Grab what you need, we move now.

Gora hurried Lalene and the man off the van, looking around over the front and behind the vehicle. She grunted and pressed her helmet controls trying to restart it, finally giving up and throwing it away. She wiped her face with a sleeve, forcing herself to focus. With a grunt, she pulled down her combat skin, letting her ears and feathers puff free in the cold air.

— Can you shoot? — she walked to the man holding the little girl.

— Uh, I’m a linguistics major. — excused the man covering his malfunctioning synth eye.

— I did hunting lessons with my ex-husband. — Lalene stepped forward.

— Good enough. Standard issue rifle. — Gora pushed the rifle to her. — stay behind me.

— … Lift, pull, hold, slide, switch. — Lalene scanned the weapon with her hands and muttered as she readied it.

[SOUND OF DISTANT GUNFIRE, FAINT SIRENS. WIND HOWLS THROUGH BROKEN STREET]

The city was a different kind of quiet now. A dead quiet, broken by things that didn’t sound like sirens or people. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, like a blanket smothering the world. The only light came from above, that ugly orange glow behind the clouds, and from the distant fires reflecting off the bottom of the smoke layer. Street signs were dark. Building lights were out. The world had been unplugged.

Gora led, her head on a swivel, ears twitching at every distant crack and thud. She wasn't looking for street names anymore. She was looking for shapes, for movement, for the silhouette of a landmark tower against the hell-glow.

— We need to find a metro entrance. Get underground. — Gora’s voice was low, cutting through the silence she herself had imposed. — It’s a straight shot. Less eyes on us.

[SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS ON GLASS AND DEBRIS. KALENE WHIMPERS SOFTLY]

— Shhh, baby, it’s okay. — Lalene’s whisper was strained, her grip tight on the rifle, her other hand pulling Kalene closer. Favo followed, his piece of scrap metal held like a talisman.

A few blocks over, the silence broke. Not with random noise, but with the organized, terrifying sound of a real fight. The staccato pop of rifles, the heavier thump of something else. And a sound they hadn’t heard before, a high-pitched, shrieking whine of energy weapons. Gora held up a fist. They froze in the shadow of a collapsed bus shelter.

— Wait here. — she hissed, and darted to the corner of a building, peeking around.

[SOUND OF INTENSE FIREFIGHT GROWS LOUDER]

Lalene risked a look. Down the wide avenue, an army squad was pinned behind the smoldering wreck of a… thing. A hemispherical craft, maybe ten patas across, lay crumpled against a fountain. It was scarred and smoking, but a hatch was open, and from it, the invaders poured out.

They were a nightmare of standardized design. All clad in the same sleek, dark armor and battleskin, marked with unfamiliar, sharp-angled symbols that glowed faintly in the gloom. But the bodies underneath were all wrong.

Most of them, maybe half, were bipedal, humanoid. Their movements under the armor were jarringly familiar, but their precision was alien, coordinated. They moved like parts of a single machine.

Among them, things that stood on two thick legs but ran on four limbs, their armored backs bristling with tentacles that uncurled to fire weapons or drag wounded comrades back with brutal efficiency. A heavier one, a brute nearly bursting out of its standardized plating, hefted a cannon that thumped with a deeper, more resonant shriek. Its bolt hit an army barricade, and a section of it didn’t just shatter. It boiled away in a cloud of vapor and molten stone, the shrapnel sizzling through the air.

The air itself was being torn apart by their weapons. Every shot was a rising, piercing SCREECH, like a steam-kettle pushed to its breaking point. That ended in a wet, fizzling CRACK as it vaporized flesh, metal, and concrete. The smell was ozone, cooked meat, and hot stone.

— They’re… people? — Lalene whispered, horrified, her eyes fixed on the humanoid forms.

— Don’t know. Don’t care. They’re shooting. — Gora muttered, pulling back. — We go around. Now.

But before they could move, a new sound emerged. A chittering, skittering wave of noise from the side streets. A flood of the smaller, multi-legged fauna poured into the intersection. They didn’t care about sides. They swarmed over the army position. They clambered over the downed saucer. The neat lines of the firefight dissolved into a melee of screams, alien shrieks, and the wet sounds of close-quarters death.

One of the armored humanoids turned its weapon on the swarm, the screech of its bolt drowning out the fauna's clicks. It burned through three of the creatures before a larger beast, a hulking thing with exposed, glistening muscle fused to rust-colored metal plates, barreled into it, crushing the invader against the saucer's hull.

— They’re fighting each other? — Favo breathed, his eyes wide.

— They don’t care, — Gora said, her voice grim with understanding. She’d seen it. In the chaos, she saw one of the invaders. Its helmet was cracked, and the face underneath, the face was hoku.

Their eyes focused on the heat of the firefight a moment earlier, suddenly turning to her. Their rectangular pupils sharpened, as if having a split second of conscience before turning back to its energy rifle, reloading it quickly.

— They just don’t care. Move! Back this way!

She shoved them back, toward a set of stairs leading down into darkness, a metro entrance. As they stumbled down the first few steps, Gora’s eyes locked on a body sprawled near the curb. An army regular. A grenade belt, still full, was strapped to their chest.

— Shit. — she spat. — Get down there! Don’t stop!

— Where are you going?! — Lalene cried.

But Gora was already moving, low and fast, back out into the open. She sprinted, a crouched shadow, toward the corpse as the chaos of the three-way battle raged fifty patas away. She grabbed the belt, yanking it free. A clawed limb smashed down where her hand had been a second before. She didn’t look back. She just ran, hurling herself down the metro stairs as a red energy bolt seared the wall above her head.

She landed hard at the bottom, breathing in ragged gasps. The grenade belt clattered on the tile floor beside her.

In the dim light filtering from the street, five pairs of eyes stared back at her.

— Let’s go, — Gora panted, scooping up the belt. — And don’t touch the rails.

NO STARS ABOVE THEM | PART 5

The mother is desperately bashing the alien beast with a metal chair, her breaths coming in frantic gasps between guttural grunts and panicked screams. The thing writhes and spasms on the grimy floor, its movements increasingly feeble with each strike. Its carapace—a thin but unnervingly resilient shell like a crab’s—splinters under the relentless blows. Its strong, whip-like tentacles flop lifelessly, and the sickly green light fades from its stalked eyes, which retract as if trying to escape the inevitable.

Still, she doesn’t stop. The weight of her fear and desperation drives her, each swing a desperate attempt to destroy the horror before her. The chair splinters, one leg snapping clean off. She keeps going, clutching the broken piece and hammering down, her voice raw and hoarse. It might already be dead, but in her shock, she can’t stop. Not yet.

Finally, realization seeps through her adrenaline-fueled haze. The thing isn’t moving. It isn’t breathing, that is if it even breathes at all. With a shaky exhale, she lets the broken chair leg clatter to the floor. Her arms tremble violently as the tension drains away, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness. Silent tears stream down her dirt-streaked face as she collapses to her knees, crawling toward the restroom door. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzes faintly, casting uneven shadows on the dark bloodied floor.

She sits heavily against the wall next to the doorframe, her back scraping against it. Resting her head against the cool surface, she closes all four of her eyes, trying to steady her breaths. The sharp sting of reality creeps back in as she feels the dampness of the otherworldly ichor on her hands and the fatty and metallic smell of the creature’s remains. She raises a hand, slowly and weakly knocking on the restroom door.

— Kalene… Favo… — her voice is barely above a whisper, cracked and raw. — You can come out now… It’s gone.

For a moment, there’s no response, only the sound of her ragged breathing and the distant, haunting echoes of the city outside. Then, the door creaks open. Two small figures peek out, hesitant and wide-eyed. Favo, the older one, clutches her younger sibling’s hand tightly. Kalene clings to her arm, his face half-hidden in her torn sleeve.

They step into the dim light, their small feet crunching lightly over shards of broken tile and stretching to avoid stepping on the dark puddle ahead. Favo helps her mother to her feet, her young face strained with the effort but determined. Kalene grabs hold of his mother’s hand, his grip tight and trembling. But she forces a faint, weary smile.

— Let’s go… — she murmurs and gathers her strength to walk by herself.

Overturned cars litter the road, some with doors flung open, their interiors stripped of anything useful in the desperate moments before their owners fled. Storefronts sit eerily quiet, their glass shattered or smeared with dust and blood. Amid the debris, law enforcement vehicles still pulse with silent, strobing green and red lights, their beams sweeping rhythmically over the carnage. Mauled remnants of officers and civilians lie scattered near the vehicles. The signs of resistance, bullet casings litter the ground near barricades made from overturned tables and crowd control shields. Some cars are embedded into walls, their chassis twisted and crumpled, while others are crushed under now ominous footprints imprinted on the chassis.

High above, a haunting sight dominates the skyline. A helicopter stood lodged precariously into the seventh floor of a commercial building, its tail jutting out at an awkward angle. Flames lick hungrily at the wreckage, sending black smoke billowing into the sky. One of the crew dangles lifelessly from a parachute tangled around the landing skis, the body sways gently in the heat’s updraft.

Favo grabbed a piece of metal scrap from a car’s door and followed his mother, trying to stay alert with her, as his younger brother Kalene stayed close and held onto her waist. The cold air swept the streets in between the buildings, getting slightly warmed up as it passed over fires, carrying within it the smell of burnt plastic, slowly howling as distant sirens and gunfight persisted. Little flaming and bright debris penetrated the thick and swirling cloud cover above them, like shooting stars, bringing silent light and wishes, wishes that hope those may be their invaders losing the battle above the clouds.

Through the narrow gaps between the buildings, the sky seemed alive with activity. The lights of distant aircraft moved with coordinated precision, cutting through the clouds with deliberate purpose. A sudden roar grew louder, and two jets streaked overhead, their engines thundering as they passed low enough to rattle the loose debris on the ground. They flew through a flock of worm-like creatures, which wheeled and danced erratically as they skimmed high, afloat without wings or other visible mechanism. The jets split apart as they passed through the swarm, their paths diverging as the creatures scattered in panic.

Favo turned to watch one of the jets, its engine trail fading as it moved further away. His relief was short-lived. A searing red bolt of energy erupted from the clouds, striking the jet with unerring precision, the aircraft exploded into a fiery blossom following the net direction of the bolt and its own, its wreckage spiraling downward and disappearing into the haze below. The charged air particles lingered for a moment leaving a fading shadow of the bolt, its crimson hue casting an ominous glow across the nearby buildings. Favo froze, gripping the metal tighter as Kalene whimpered softly. Their mother took a sharp breath, tightening her grip on both children and urging them forward, her pace quickening.

The trio moved carefully through the debris-strewn streets, the mother’s eyes fixed on a seemingly untouched minivan parked partially on the sidewalk many meters away. Its clean exterior stood in stark contrast to the destruction around it. She stopped and turned to Favo, her voice firm but low.

— Stay here with your brother. Behind the car. I’ll check the car. — She grabbed a brick from the rubble nearby, its edges rough and crumbling, hoping it could protect her and her children a little more than her bare fists.

— Mom, I can– — Favo began, gripping his piece of metal tightly, but her sharp look silenced him. He exhaled heavily, nodding reluctantly.

— Just stay low. — She adjusted the brick in her hand and turned away, walking toward the minivan with deliberate caution.

Her footsteps were light but measured as she approached the vehicle. She moved slowly, leaning slightly to one side and then the other, scanning her surroundings for any movement. Her eyes darted to the dark windows of the nearby buildings, the heaps of wreckage, and the shadows cast by the flickering fires.

Reaching the minivan, she hesitated for a moment before grabbing the door handle. She pulled gently, the latch clicking faintly as the door swung open. Relief flickered across her face—until the sound of another door opening on the opposite side froze her in place.

Her breath caught as she turned her head, and she found herself staring at a figure stepping out from the other side.

— Freeze. Put your hands where I can see them. — The voice was masculine, commanding, but it felt… Off. It lacked a shared exhaustion, perhaps, or fear, adequate to such a dire situation. — Step back from the vehicle.

— It’s alright, it’s alright. — She swallowed hard, raising her free hand while letting the brick slip from her grip. — I’m not armed. Don’t shoot! I have my kids with me... I was just trying... I didn’t see you– — Her words trailed off as her gaze locked onto the figure now fully visible on the other side of the van.

A specter stood on the other side, his stance rigid and precise, rifle held like a textbook illustration. His appearance was strikingly alien, yet familiar, a geometric, vaguely hoku shape clad in a battered military uniform, its fabric and plating showing signs of heavy wear. Scratches and streaks of soot marred what might once have been pristine, the insignia on his chest faded but still identifiable. A blood splattered yellow armband marked him as a medic. Glowing matrix display-like eyes on his long face shifted subtly as if they could actually see her, scanning her as his mechanical ear-like antennae twitched and pivoted, keeping track of the environment. He stepped carefully toward the front of the vehicle, rifle still trained on her but now held with less tension.

— Are you injured? Are you alone? — His voice was direct, efficient, but not harsh. His antennae flicked again, catching faint sounds from the surroundings as his glowing eyes stayed locked on her.

— No, no... I have kids. They’re right there. — She gestured slightly with her chin toward the overturned car where her children hid, her hands still raised. Her voice cracked slightly as she added, — Favo! Come out. It’s a doctor... It’s a doctor that wants to see you. — She tried to sound calm, though a tremor betrayed her attempt. Slowly, the older boy emerged first, clutching the makeshift weapon tightly before noticing the specter and loosening his grip. Kalene followed closely, clutching his brother’s sleeve.

The specter’s head tilted slightly, his antennae twitching again as he assessed the children from a distance. Satisfied, he lowered the rifle, the weapon releasing a faint hum as it locked magnetically to his side. He raised a hand and motioned toward the van.

— … Good, bring them over. We need to get them checked. — His tone softened slightly, though it carried urgency. — My partner is two blocks down this street treating an injured man. I’m trying to get us another vehicle to catch up with our unit. — He stepped aside, gesturing again for the trio to move toward the minivan. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, his attention splitting between them and the empty streets around, ears still tuned to the distant chaos.

The mother, still cautious, began leading her children toward him, her instincts battling her relief at finding someone, something, that might help. The group settled into the van, the children huddled in the back while the mother sat in the passenger seat, still clutching her knees. Chase took the wheel, his movements precise and mechanical, yet his attention flicked between the road and the dashboard's cracked display, scanning for potential threats.

The van's interior was sparse, with a lingering smell of wet fur and chemicals—likely remnants of its original pet shop use. Chase’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly as he adjusted the vehicle’s settings, the engine coming to life.

— Where are they? The army, the navy? Why aren’t they pushing these things back? — the mother asked, her voice tense but not accusatory. Her gaze was fixed on the cracked windshield ahead as the city passed by.

— The army and navy are engaging the invaders on the coasts. Most of the conflict is concentrated on beaches and waterfront cities. Initial reports suggest the invaders are either drawn to these areas or started their assault there intentionally. — his synthetic voice responded evenly, though there was a weight behind it. He turned the wheel sharply to avoid a mangled streetlight lying across the road. The children jolted slightly in their seats, but Kalene clung tightly to his brother, staying quiet.

— And the civilians? Where are they taking us? — she pressed further, glancing briefly at the rearview mirror where her sons’ reflections trembled in the faint light.

— Inland, to army bases and hospitals. — his antennae twitched, and his glowing eyes flickered as he processed additional information. — But it’s slow. Supply lines are severed, and the creatures are spreading inland. Some fauna—smaller than their war units but no less lethal—have infiltrated further than expected. It’s creating bottlenecks everywhere.

— You… You mean it’s not safe anywhere? — the mother exhaled sharply, gripping her knees tighter.

— To my awareness, no. But the limited information we have suggested the people might be safe in the old wastelands. Long-range radio communications have been down for the last three hours. The hostile fauna has made it difficult to maintain small group cohesion for units like mine, so every… — He paused suddenly, glancing briefly at her before returning his focus to the road. — However, Expanse protocol states that I give you only the relevant, positive, information, in order to avoid panic and mass hysteria. — that last line felt awkwardly polite given the dying city outside.

She turned to look at him fully for the first time, noting the scratches across his uniform and the faint scuffs on his metallic limbs.

— You said ‘your unit…’ What’s left of it?

— To my knowledge, myself and my partner only. — He adjusted the wheel again, his voice steady but edged with something that sounded like regret. — Army medical unit, designation XAS3-KA25, callsign ‘Chase’, and sergeant Gora Honeda. We were assigned to extract wounded personnel and civilians. That mission continues. — the mother sighed and leaned back on her seat, not knowing what to make of it exactly. — Our best chance is to keep moving inland, away from the coast. If the navy can regain control of the seas and space, their efforts should alleviate the situation on land for the general population to re-settle.

The van hit a bump, and Favo winced as his head struck the side.

— Sorry about that, kid. — Chase’s voice carried a faint hum of reassurance, as if trying to sound less of a machine.

The mother didn’t respond immediately, her mind racing through his words…

— If there’s even a chance we’ll make it… — she turned back to look at her sons, then faced him again — you better get us there.

— That’s the plan, ma’am, — Chase replied, his antennae twitching slightly as he scanned the road ahead.

— Forget that… It’s… It’s Lalene.

— Alright, Lalene… Just hold on. — Chase’s voice was barely above a whisper as he brought the van to a slow stop.  As soon as the door opened, the pungent smell of burning fuel and scorched metal hit them. The scene ahead was a nightmare in motion.

The overturned military truck was aflame, its twisted frame a grotesque silhouette against the dimming sky. The medic, dressed in army fatigues with the same yellow medical armband that Chase wore, worked desperately over the body—if it could even be called that anymore. It was from the chest down all reduced to a pulp, leaving behind an unrecognizable mass. The blood stains the pavement in dark streaks from the main pool. The medic’s hands moved feverishly, pressing into what remained of the torso as though they could somehow revive it. Her voice cracked with each utterance.

— No... No, no, no... We can't lose another one, not like this, not after everything... Stay with me, damn it! Stay with me! It’s an order, soldier! — behind her, a little girl, no older than seven, wailed. Another wounded man, his face hollow with exhaustion and pain, held her tightly, his arm around her waist, keeping her from running forward. His eyes were locked on the medic’s frantic efforts.

— Don’t look, son. — Lalene’s voice broke through the haze, her hand gripping her son’s arm. She glanced at the scene again and immediately wished she hadn’t. — Don’t look at that. — she gently pushed Kalene behind her seat, putting herself between them and the window, unable to look away from it as she covered her mouth from gasping.

Chase’s movements were methodical, his antennae flicking forward, trying to catch any sounds or signals. He knew this was only part of the nightmare, but even so, there was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke again.

— Gora? — he called, his voice slightly strained, but steady. No response. He stepped closer to the medic, his feet crunching against the debris as he raised his voice once more. — Sergeant Gora? My… My sensors indicate she is gone. — the specter seemed to hesitate as he spoke calmly.

— Come on! Please, don’t leave me... not like this, please, please… — Her efforts only grew louder, her face wet with tears as she cried out to the lifeless body beneath, giving harsh compressions over a red-soaked towel.

— You need to come with me. We’ve got more lives to save. — His grip on the medic’s shoulder was a quiet command, his tone more stern. 

— We lost him... we lost them all... I... I couldn’t– — She broke off, shuddering with tears and anger, but Chase’s grip tightened, pulling her up with surprising gentleness but undeniable force. He placed a strong hand on her back, urging her away from the scene.

— Gora, I need you to focus. There’s nothing more you can do here. We’ve got a new mission now. — Chase spoke clearly and gently pulled on her shoulder.

— I’m not leaving him... I’m not leaving any of them! — Gora cried out in frustration, her voice breaking as her figure gave up to his gesture.

— We’ll honor them. But we can’t help them now. — He turned, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. — The van’s waiting. Get moving. — Chase looked at the man and his daughter remained frozen, too frightened to speak. — You two, in the van. Now. — his mouthless face ordered sharply through the speakers, his eyes steely as he glanced back at them.

The man nodded quickly, gathering the girl into his arms, and made his way to the van with hurried steps. The little girl clung to him, still sobbing, but with no words left to say. They both climbed into the back of the van, and the door slammed shut with a dull thud.

— Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste. — Chase stepped in behind them, his voice low, his gaze hard as he looked out the front window and turned the car on.

Lalene sat silently in the front, her face pale as she tried to reconcile what they had just seen. She caught the reflection of her son, his wide eyes filled with confusion and fear, staring at the shattered world outside as it began to slowly roll past her face.

— It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. — She whispered, though her voice wavered. Everyone inside was then quickly alarmed when Chase’s face turned off and he plopped flat against the wheel, blaring the horn for half a second before it too went mute. Alarms and lights from cars around them too blared and blinked for a short moment before becoming mute, the city block now illuminated by the faint light from distant fires bouncing back from the clouds.