The nose of the Star Link cut through light clouds that resembled floating fluff. On both sides of the flying mountain, round drone spheres shot forward. They constantly circled the large object, scanning its surface and keeping their flexible appendages ready, like a swarm of Insectoids tending to their queen. As they flew into the parted clouds, they dragged behind them pale trails, further reinforcing the image of a worker swarm.
The ship’s shadow stretched across the ground, cutting the green cover in two. From the outside, it looked bizarre. Half of the ship still hung over the yellow cover of the desert, which extended to the uneven line of the force shield marking the Frontier’s borders. The other half of its hull passed unhindered through the opened window, on the inner side of which clouds swirled, colliding with the shimmering wall of air and drifting back.
Inside the force dome lay the lands of the Frontier. Not yet Iterna’s territory, they were strikingly different from the lifeless wasteland outside. Green grass grew all the way to the horizon, climbing rocks and mountains. Vines ringed the ruins of ancient buildings, left as historical monuments or awaiting their turn for repurposing.
Straight, smooth roads stretched across the Frontier, without the slightest pothole. Currently, barriers stood on them, and groups of soldiers kept away barely visible human figures in the distance who were aiming strange devices at the ships. In the distance, beyond the roads, wheat and vegetable fields stretched in patches of yellow and green, interspersed with quite ordinary greenhouses. Drones fluttered above the fields, monitoring for mutations. Other than that, they did not interfere. Local farmers took pride in their skills.
Further on was a city or a settlement. It was hard to say for sure at such a distance, but there was one thing that inevitably drew attention and immediately reminded Draa of a sundial. Only this object filled him with reverent awe at its grandeur.
An orbital elevator. Now he knew that elevators were the rising platforms on the ship, and that name did not do justice… to this. Put both ships together, and they would not match the length of the huge tower piercing the firmament. The pillar lay many hundreds of kilometers away but was clearly visible despite the distance. It seemed incredible that the horizon could hide such a wonder.
A tower of non‑reflective blue metal, not tapering toward the top, reached into space—the terrifying void lacking the air so necessary for survival. There, at an unimaginable height, was the generator of the force field that maintained and regulated the shield around the country. Proton laboratories continuously fed the energy‑hungry beast.
The most incredible thing was that the orbital elevator was not alone. There were three of them.
“You’re fucking lying to me!” Draa interrupted Eshtu’s reading with an involuntary shout.
They had all gathered at the so‑called viewport in the waiting room. On Artificer’s ships, there were no inefficient observation methods. All data were collected by various sensors, and when the crew wanted to observe the outside world, a holographic image was projected before them.
“Language, young man!” William tore himself away from his conversation with Pierre.
Father moved with his usual ease. Dressed in a vest, shirt, and pants marked with embroidery, a coiled snake eating its own tail, he showed no sign of the horrific injuries he had suffered. Sometimes, when he rolled up his sleeve or bent over, a pale strip of synthesized skin was visible, not yet as tough as the rest of his hide, but otherwise William had returned to normal.
And had even become better, Draa admitted. He had no idea what Artificer had done, but the rounded skin blades no longer stuck out, threatening to cut anyone who came too close. They overlapped neatly and comfortably.
“Right!” Nakula interjected. “You need to show outrage properly. You’re fucking bullshitting us, you many‑legged, sneakily venomous, scorpion‑resembling, insidious cheat! Take us for simpletons, you chitinous ass?!”
William sighed. “Eshtu, don’t take it personally. But there’s no need to fool us…”
“He’s telling the truth,” Rudrani protested. Her nose was still red from the time a ball had bent her visor during the game and hit her.
Her father had told the doctors not to worry and to let the bruise heal naturally, as a lesson for her foolishness. The stubborn girl wore the mark like a medal.
“According to the Iternian encyclopedia, the country has three functioning orbital elevators,” Rudrani read from her terminal.
Draa pressed close to the hologram, distorting it at the bottom. Ignoring this, he twisted his head from side to side, trying to see the other two towers. Where could those celestial pillars be hiding? Such things were impossible to miss. Nakula joined him, also curiously scanning the horizon.
“Useless, you unbelieving fools,” Eshtu said.
His mechanical arms held the terminal, and he leaned against the wall to the left of the holographic viewport. A smile played on his lips, and a small lens hung over one eye. The lens read words from the terminal and spoke them into his translator, simultaneously allowing the illiterate boy to read and use the terminal, gradually learning to recognize symbols.
“The planet is a sphere. The curvature of the horizon and simple distance hide the other orbital elevators from us.” He tapped his pincer on the terminal to draw attention. “Four thousand kilometers long, with a ‘stem’ weighing 19.2 metric tons, the wonders of Iternian engineering: ‘Iterna Eternal,’ built a century later, ‘Frozen Hell,’ and the last sibling of this trio, ‘Rho Reborn,’ can be seen from any point in the old capital. On New Year’s Eve, the beams of light from the towers form a shimmering map of the system above the royal palace, delighting citizens and tourists. Thus, the scientific aspect and space exploration are closely intertwined with culture into a single tapestry, promising a bright future for all citizens and friends of our glorious country. Ha, I’ll definitely bring my sister to the show.”
“Don’t you want to see it now?” Draa stepped away from the hologram. “There’s a river! Not underground, it’s flowing above ground!”
“Where?! Where?!” The Marva four immediately and unceremoniously pushed him and Nakula aside.
“Once we land.” Eshtu waved his pincer dismissively. “Earth‑dwellers do not belong to the heavens. Only a fool would be interested in the unnatural. Gawk if you want, but I’ll spend my time on an incomparably more interesting activity.”
Vyfka pressed some buttons on her terminal and showed the display to Eshtu, which broadcast a view from a great height.
“Ah, you little bitch!” He lunged to the side, covering his eyes as the clan chieftain’s bodyguards laughed.
The Star Link descended so low that it almost kissed the ground. Ripples spread through the grass, gradually widening. Suddenly, a whole area of greenery stopped swaying. The ship’s power systems activated, forming corridors. The loading ramps opened, releasing roaring, hissing, screaming, and growling columns of Malformed.
Draa’s people. With their limbs cuffed, accompanied by robots, soldiers, or (in rare cases) transported on stretchers, the Malformed moved in uneven lines toward the complex in the distance, met by guards. People of the most varied shapes, from thin, many‑legged killers covered in chitin to waddling hills of flesh, shouted challenges at their escorts, mocked their imprisonment, or swore revenge. Acid and venom dripped, rising in wisps of smoke from burned circles of grass.
Against their background, the Iternians looked like shepherds driving a herd of animals. The comparison turned something in Draa’s stomach. Many below he knew. Among them was Gaur. Even after all the anger, a wave of revulsion rose in the boy at how his tribesmen were being treated. The delight at their arrival quickly darkened.
But then he saw that not every Malformed was in chains. The scouts had not taken long to convince; they had already sided with the new herd and now kept to the edge of the force field, trying to catch sounds and smells from the other side. A group of guards awkwardly shook hands with a short greeter, pointing behind them at the appointed leader.
“Dad!” Draa called out.
William put a hand on his shoulder. From here, they could see Nuergh whipping the most foul‑mouthed Malformed and urging the slow ones along. The appendages growing from the flower‑shaped growth on her back moved continuously. She barked a greeting to an officer in blue power armor, who saluted her back. Under her arm, she held a struggling Euka, fascinated by the commotion. Akrn and the other children were being led in a separate convoy for their safety.
“She’s fine, Draa,” William assured him. “Nakula, are those ours?”
“Yes,” he snorted. “Took them long enough.”
A huge crowd was passing through the shield, compared to which the Malformed were just a drop. Softskins from dozens of clans arrived in rumbling trucks and on draft animals. Light, fast vehicles raced around the rocky terrain around the crowd, scanning for danger. Children, the elderly, and the sick were kept in the center of the moving city. Several rings of guards protected them, and on a dozen trucks rose towers of welded‑together steel sheets, from which people with long rifles watched the situation.
The newcomers stopped warily, as far from the stream of Malformed as possible. Children cried in fear, and the draft animals, sensing danger, raised their voices. A group of officers and civilians hurried toward them, overtaken by doctors who literally forced their way into the center of the clan encampment. The medics immediately began asking about the travelers’ condition, assessing the situation.
“Look at that; we’re not so different. I remember old witch Ri telling me to fuck off when I was posturing before immigrants. I didn’t even yell at her that much afterwards; the little ones really needed to be let in sooner.” Sadness crossed Nakula’s face. He noticed Draa’s look. “Political formalities. Sometimes they should be ignored. But today our people need leadership. Lasses, after me! We’re going down. Rudrani, you’ll take charge of keeping order among the southern clans. Explain to them what’s expected of them and why they need to hand over weapons and undergo vaccination. If any don’t listen, tell your uncles. They’ll break the skulls of the malcontents.”
“Satya can do it!” The girl took her sister’s hand. “We listened to your instructions together. I’ll support her…”
“She’ll support you.”
“But Satya is older than me!”
“You are legitimate. Satya is not,” Nakula cut her off.
“My sister is your daughter!” Rudrani stepped close to her father. “What difference does it make whether she was born in wedlock?!”
“Rani, don’t…” Satya tried to intervene.
“You don’t give a damn. I don’t give a shit. The wives certainly don’t care.” The chieftain nodded. “But people care about status. And we care about the welfare of our clans. Even you don’t listen to Satya, so why would anyone else?” Rudrani ground her teeth, turning red. “Stop acting like a capricious brat and get to work. In the future, these trivial things won’t matter,” he added, softening his voice.
The priest and Pierre shook hands with everyone before parting. Rudrani hugged the sitting with her eyes closed Tigfy much to her father’s displeasure, while Nakula himself exchanged a brief farewell with William, promising to check whether Draa’s paternal grandparents were still alive. Draa felt nothing toward them. Neither kinship nor hatred. They had thrown a member of his family away like useless trash, so why even think of them?
But he kept silent, holding his opinion to himself, too excited by what was happening. The ship began to descend.
The prison for the captives, or the socialization camp, did not look very tall. It stretched over a fairly large area, including separate barracks, paths with flowerbeds along them, workshops, and small buildings clearly intended for classes. A tall spire of the central building rose upward, ready to activate a force field to prevent escape by jumping or climbing over the walls. To the north of the camp stretched a training field with soccer goals.
Draa snorted, both worried and amused by the sight. Did the Iternians sincerely think that would be enough to hold Softskins, let alone Malformed? Tunneling under the field, taking hostages, or a major riot would put an end to such careless hopes. Where were the steel skins, the powerful guards? Were those people down there seriously walking around without power armor?
“Someone should warn them,” he voiced his concerns.
Vyfka stopped teasing Eshtu and replied, unexpectedly serious: “I think they are aware. Iterna isn’t a naïve herd. We’re missing something.”
“That’s life. Learn for as long as you live,” William said. “Stop fooling around. Our future awaits. Draa, I’ll go help Paarfu. Wait for Thomas’s order.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, the specialist came for them, leading the children down the corridor. Along the way, soldiers checked Vyfka’s mask and put bracelets on Draa’s hands. An energy field surrounded his fingers. Eshtu held his little sister in his pincers, quietly humming something to her. Entering an open bay, all five gasped together.
The air here was… gentle. It lacked the drying heat of the desert or the toxic sting of the underground. Each breath filled their lungs with a coolness strikingly different from the sterile atmosphere of the ship. This place radiated life.
Thomas asked them to wave to the people standing to the left of the ramp. The group obeyed, wisely not showing their fangs. Something about the strangers was different from the Softskins they had already met. They were not military, yet miniature drones fluttered around them, beeping and aiming their lenses at the descending Abnormals. Clearly civilians, they fearlessly tried to break through the military cordon and shouted questions.
Hearing one, Draa laughed.
“No, they didn’t take us apart, stupid! Lucius and Vipstana healed my serious wounds after Raoul crippled me!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“Who is Raoul? An expedition officer? Was violence used against you? Why are you in handcuffs? Did an ambassador visit your tribe, or were you attacked without warning? How many of you were killed? What do you think of Iterna? Do you see humans as runts, and have you ever eaten human… I have the right to ask questions! Here’s my press pass! Where are you dragging me?! What are your impressions of contact with civilization?” A chorus of questions rained down.
“Great, so far! Thanks for inviting us into your herd. Don’t touch him, he didn’t hurt me!” Draa shouted to the soldiers dragging away a resisting man.
“Your opinion may easily change in the future,” Thomas whispered. “Don’t talk too much to the vultures.”
“I don’t see any feathers on them.”
“That was a figure of speech,” Tigfy said. “I read about them yesterday. They’re reporters. I don’t fully understand their role. A strange kind, earning their living through gossip.”
“Perhaps I have a biased view of them,” Thomas admitted. “Journalism has uncovered many scandals, shedding light on problems in the country. But it’s better to be careful. One wrong word, and they’ll consider you… strange.”
Draa instantly shut up. He had enough of the Marva girls being convinced that he was a pervert. Not understanding their logic, he asked Tigfy and learned that he supposedly looked at them wrong or stood too close. The situation was compounded by mutual misunderstanding. His friend also couldn’t trace their friends’ thoughts. Their beliefs were based more on feelings than on evidence, and he couldn’t dispel them.
And he wasn’t going to. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should he apologize? Let them think what they wanted. But he didn’t want any further misunderstandings.
A shadow fell over him. Draa sensed animal danger even before he noticed his friends’ faces change. He spun around, stepping in front of Tigfy and Eshtu, but his warning growl came out as a pathetic, frightened whimper. The chieftain. Fully restored. A wet stream ran across the boy’s leg; against his will, he curled up, feeling small and defenseless.
Raoul was being transported on a separate platform, sealed by a force dome. The platform moved on heavy tracks, eliminating any chance of tilting in case of mechanical failure. The bastard stood at his full height, completely unbothered by the energy threads binding his arms and legs, preventing him from so much as twitching a finger. Chains wrapped his torso, yet Raoul looked capable of snapping them with a single breath. Some of his scales had fallen off as a side effect of the power‑suppressing drugs. Beneath his tough hide, his skin turned out to be the color of pitch, exactly like Draa’s.
The snake‑like hood spread behind the deposed chieftain’s head. He was enjoying the situation, showing off and flexing his muscles. The glow of his eyes intensified many times over, giving him a supernatural appearance. Spotting the children, Raoul smiled broadly and blew a kiss at the gasping Tigfy. In that simple sound, a sob and a choked gasp merged together. His red‑and‑green eyes scanned them, picking out spots for a bite…
A clap shattered the hypnotic illusion, and Draa could breathe again. Crassus slapped his palm on the dome, drawing the frowning Raoul’s attention to himself. The arrogant officer didn’t even look at the prisoner, marching at the head of a unit that walked on either side of the captive monster. Realizing that he was being paraded like a trophy seemed to spoil the murderer’s mood.
His mocking gaze turned to pure surprise when he spotted William giving orders to Malformed alongside Paarfu. Raoul held his gaze on him, but the mutant did not respond, treating him like a piece of trash being carted past, and walked over to his son, placing his hands on his shoulders. It helped. The grip of terror released his diaphragm, and Draa could breathe, sucking in the clean, cool air full of unusual and pleasant smells.
“W… we’re here,” he stammered to Tigfy, taking her wrist. “Outside. Free. Exploring the world. He… Raoul lost this. Lost. He’s in a cage and he’ll stay there…”
He looked past the loading ramp, releasing Tigfy. Draa ran, dashing past Raoul in his cage, not caring about the stench coming from his suit or how the Softskins might perceive it. He jumped, landing in the ring of pale appendages, and grabbed the small body, inhaling the precious scent of a greeting mark.
“Mom! Little sis! I missed you so much!”
****
“Why…” Draa muttered, examining the fabric.
“Why what?” Akrn asked, stopping his pinching of Draa’s legs. He jumped onto his brother’s shoulder and examined the clothes. “Well, yeah, it’s not a jumpsuit. Get used to a proper wardrobe, pissy.”
“Just marked my things, don’t be so jealous,” Draa replied. Teasing helped more than heartfelt talks. “Look here. Each piece is marked with a golden snake, coiled and biting its own tail.”
“Devouring itself. The Ouroboros. That symbol represents infinity and is the coat of arms of House Barjoni, the leading manufacturer of clothing for Abnormals of all shapes and sizes,” the blond operator kindly explained.
The family had gathered in a room in the camp. Both of Artificer’s ships had already left Iterna’s territory, heading off on another mission, and Draa was seized by a wave of fear that Raoul might escape. But apparently, Iterna really had everything under control. No sounds of Softskins shouting came from outside, and the indignant bleating of the Malformed soon fell silent inside the barracks.
They had not been sent there. A young, fragile‑looking woman shook hands with William and Nuergh and led them to a corner section of the main building. The brothers and sister had showered before rejoining their parents. Here, in a small office, a change of clothes awaited them. Draa chose blue jeans, mainly because he was interested in the material. He also took a leather jacket, a little disappointed at the lack of suitable footwear. The operator told him not to worry.
“We’ll take measurements of your feet to fit boots.”
“No need,” Draa said. “I can walk barefoot. Don’t bother.”
“That’s not up for discussion, young man.” The woman straightened the papers in her hands. “The state doesn’t subsidize companies for citizens to go barefoot.”
Pleasant light shone through the window onto her almost painfully pale fingers. Besides her, in the room was a black‑skinned man in an officer’s uniform with a single gold star on the right side of his chest. His emotionless eyes did not leave the family, and his curly hair was combed back. Unable to stand it, Akrn crawled over to him, introduced himself, and extended his pincer, despite his mother’s shushing. The stranger shook his hand, making the first move. His somewhat plump lips formed a polite, chilling smile, and he returned to his original position. The strange man did not display arrogance like Crassus. Interaction simply wasn’t something he acknowledged.
Oh, screw him. Draa decided. If he wants to be a statue, let him.
“What awaits us?” William asked directly.
“They told me. Us. They’ll. Lock. Up. Here. Until we learn,” Nuergh rasped.
“Nothing so dramatic. We don’t lock anyone up. Patients are kept in the camp until they are able to be integrated into society.” The operator reached out without fear, and Euka settled on her hand, curiously examining the woman. “Which brings us smoothly to you. Let’s be honest: it would be cruel to severely restrict your freedom. Therefore, on behalf of Iterna, I want to invite you to the Adaptation Program.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What’s the catch?” William asked.
“There isn’t one. Your family will be settled in the city of Baal, the capital of the northern quadrant. Abnormals from all over the region gather there to obtain a license for using their powers.”
“So without a license, my restraints won’t ever be removed?” Draa was pulling on the leather jacket with clumsy fingers. Inside the force field, they moved slowly.
“Not exactly. If specialists deem you safe, or if you agree to take power‑suppressing medication, the restrictors won’t be necessary.” The operator smiled at him with a perfect white smile.
She knew the Malformed’s traditions.
“Given the large quantity of Abnormals, the locals won’t be overly surprised by you. As citizens of Iterna, you will be provided with an apartment. Social workers will be with you every step of the way, explaining the nuances of everyday life…”
“And our successful integration will undermine one particular political party.” The scraping of blades accompanied William’s smile. “I think I understand. Nuergh. I’d like to accept the offer. For personal reasons.”
“We agree,” Mom didn’t hesitate for a second.
“Don’t consider your integration more important than it is,” the operator said. Euka fluttered off her hand, settling on her brother’s shoulder, and fell asleep. “We already have successful examples of coexistence with Malformed. You may even meet the young heroes. Nevertheless, I thank you for your cooperation. There remains one minor hurdle before we can begin finalizing the paperwork. What I am about to tell you represent the official position of society, not my personal view. The names: Draa, Akrn, Euka, Nuergh. They sound…”
“Savage,” Mother finished for her.
“Uncivilized. People deserve better than dog names. We have prepared a list of names and can expand it if necessary…”
Draa let the woman’s apologetic murmuring go in one ear and out the other. He didn’t blame the operator. She didn’t despise them and was honestly trying to help, clearly uncomfortable with her herd’s preferences. But there was also some sense in it. He would never forget the Nest. To do otherwise would mean betraying everything they had been through together with his friends and forgetting all the good things: the hunts and victories, the joys and the acquaintances, his sister’s happiness at treats, playing with Akrn. But every day there had been poisoned by the shadow that ruled them. The tyrant decided who mated with whom and approved names. The laws, traditions, existence itself, and the boundaries of what was permitted were all determined by him.
So long as he remained Draa, he bore the imprint of the beast’s power, the one who had tormented Mom.
It was time to end that. How to keep the past while shedding an unwanted burden? The idea of taking a sheet of names he dismissed immediately. Not even Iterna had the right to classify him as an animal. A human chooses. He remembered Lucius’s words and grinned.
“Call me Drax,” he said.