Tor’laen slowly stepped through the gate. All of the lifts emptied out into a large plateau, with what looked to be a fountain at its center. He eyed it warily. A fountain on a warship? Were the Zakkili insane? A number of civilians were relaxing and chatting around it, some of them turning to look at the approaching Ydani.
He skirted the water feature, moving to the edge of the plateau, Saia following him closely. He moved to the railing, and peered over the edge. His good eye widened.
Tor’laen looked out over a city.
He could see far into the distance. The Under Deck must stretch almost the entire length of the one and a half kilometer ship. The middle section of the area was hollowed out, leaving it mostly open. In some places, large walkways soared from one side of the deck to the other, allowing passage overhead of the foot traffic below. Some of these walkways even had their own plateaus, covered with planters filled with red and orange leafed plants. Public parks, suspended overhead.
The sides of the deck were divided into layers, gradually moving further from the center as they climbed, giving the entire deck the feeling of a massive valley. These layers had countless store fronts, businesses, restaurants, and other establishments, ones that Tor’laen didn’t know how to name or classify. Crowds of Zakkili walked the large walkways of these layers, carrying bags of goods, or holding infants, or just chatting with friends.
Down in the lower part of the deck, there were large clusters of what he understood to be housing. Apartment blocks and small housing complexes formed neat little neighborhoods, interspersed with playgrounds and small parks, with actual trees planted in them. It looked more cozy than cramped, the little streets and avenues clean and well-lit. It looked like a place where people would be happy to live, rather than cramped accommodations usually found aboard a starship. At least, aboard a Ydani starship.
The ceiling was a true marvel. Some kind of massive screen covered it, broken up here or there by small fixtures or installations, but few enough that it gave the illusion of being uninterrupted. The screen showed a quietly cloudy sky, the warm rays of an artificial sun peeking through in a few places. It wasn’t enough to completely make him feel like he was outdoors, but it gave a strong impression of it, especially if his attention was elsewhere.
“What…what is this?” He managed to say, his mind reeling from the impossible sight in front of him.
“I told you, it’s the Under Deck.” Saia stood next to him, looking out over the view casually, as if it was an ordinary, everyday sight.
“This is how people live on a Star Citadel…?” Tor’laen was still staring, trying to take in everything.
“Well…yeah.” Saia nudged him. “Hey, what are the insides of your people’s ships like?”
He finally wrenched his gaze away from the view, looking down at the corporal.
“Similar to the Mid Deck.” He pointed upwards. “Just a lot more…cramped.”
“Seriously? You’re already kinda close to scraping those horns of yours on the ceiling up there. How do you manage in even smaller quarters?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“There’s a lot of ducking in and out of doorways.” He returned with a wry grin. “You get used to it.”
“That’s wild.” She chuckled. “Hey, let’s go. Or would you rather just stare at the place than see it up close?”
“Lead on, Corporal.”
Saia guided him over to one of the sides of the plateau, where a large set of stairs led down into the walkways of the different layers of the deck. They descended into the hustle and bustle of one of the deck’s shopping areas.
“The deck is divided into levels.” She said, pointing to a large number ‘eight’ painted on a nearby wall. “Then each level is divided into four quadrants. Basically if it’s fore or aft, and port or starboard. So we’re currently in ‘level eight, aft-port’. That’s probably how you’ll hear most people refer to it.”
“Fairly straightforward.” Tor’laen nodded, trying to focus on her words.
If Tor’laen had been attracting attention in the Mid Deck, he was swimming in it down here. All around him, Zakkili were staring, or leaning around their fellows to try and get a better look at the Ydani. Many of them broke off into excited little whispered conferences, sneaking peeks at him and subtly gesturing in his direction.
Tor’laen was interested to see Zakkili males for the first time. They were smaller than their female counterparts, around a full foot shorter and delicate-looking. They lacked the dramatic curves of Zakkili women, but many of their other features seemed almost as delicate: large eyes, fine features, silken hair. The Ydani could understand why he hadn’t seen any men among the soldiers up above. They seemed almost…timid, often peeking out at him from behind the larger women they were with.
It felt a bit odd to Tor’laen. The Ydani had far more in common between sexes. Other than some small differences — modest breasts, and somewhat wider hips — his people had very similar heights and builds, regardless of gender. Everyone was expected to be ready to fight, after all. Man or woman.
“Probably a good idea to get off the street…” she muttered, watching a cluster of civilians start gesturing to him excitedly. “They’re gonna start daring each other to come talk to you in a mark. Let’s keep moving.”
Tor’laen let the Zakkili soldier usher him along, a trail of amazed murmurs and quiet conversations springing up in their wake. He stared, wide-eyed, at the storefronts they passed. Colorful advertisements played, flickering slightly from the cheap hologram emitters used. Flashy clothes, intricate-looking toys and games, and well-made daily life goods all stared back at him from their places in displays and behind large windows. The smell of roasting meat rose up from the level below them, mingling with the myriad of different perfumes the Zakkili women wore, all underlaid with the scent of incense of some kind. The sound of laughter, chatting men and women, and the excited shrieking of children came from all sides.
It was almost too much for the Ydani. Life for his people, even back on the homeworld, was calm, organized…you might even call it regimented. Even civilian life had an almost military strictness to it. Though, it seemed that even the idea of just what a “civilian” was differed greatly between the two societies.
But this…this was disorganized. Chaotic. And full of life, joy, and laughter it seemed. For all his study of the Zakkili, all of his time poring over briefings and reviewing stolen transmissions and data, he could have never imagined that the average Zakkili citizen could be so lively and social.
This was the kind of future he and his superiors wanted for his people. This was how the Ydani might yet recover, might yet reclaim a future where children would aspire to be more than soldiers. This could be their salvation.
The only cost would be surrendering control of their future to a kingdom controlled by psychic tyrants, and forever losing the absolute safety of their own minds. Tor’laen glanced around again. There was nothing stopping any one of these cheerful-looking women from diving deep into his mind, and ripping pieces of him out at their leisure. Suddenly the crowd around him no longer seemed as joyful. Suddenly the dozens of eyes tracking him took on a predatory gleam in his head, and every curious glance began to feel like a hand reaching for the inside of his skull.
He swayed slightly, the feeling of paranoia overwhelming.
“Whoa, hold up. You don’t look so good, man.” The corporal was there next to him. Right. Saia. She was a soldier. She was under orders to escort him. She wouldn’t go snooping inside his head, right? That made her safe. Or at least, safer.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“Let’s get away from this crowd, and get you something to eat, Tor’laen.” She steered him towards a doorway, the bright hologram above it declaring it as the “Golden Ladle”. He muttered something in affirmation, and ducked through the door.
The inside was brightly lit, full of low, round tables, each covered with a different colored cloth. The walls were imitation wood, by his guess, and each wall had a number of small holograms – each one showing a different scene. Some from inside the Citadel, others from some planet or another. Every so often, each hologram would rotate to a new picture. The restaurant was about half-full, and Saia steered him over to a table in a relatively quiet corner. He sank onto the low stool, trying his best to regain his composure.
“You okay?” Saia asked, taking a seat across from him. His eye darted to her uniform for a moment, taking comfort in the relatively familiar feeling.
“I’ll…I’ll be fine.” Tor’laen sighed. “The crowd just…it got to me a little bit.” It was the truth. At least, part of it.
“Understandable. When we get newcomers who grew up in a frontier world, they often get the same feeling.” She shrugged. “Just part of getting used to life on the Aegis. Now, let’s get some food in you. Pretty sure the LC will have me on double watch for an entire measure if I let you pass out on me.”
“I don’t have any currency.” He replied, remembering her words from earlier. “I assume this establishment isn’t free like the mess hall is.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the boss lady to foot the bill.”
“Is…is that allowed?” Tor’laen raised an eyebrow.
“Are you kidding me? Mikka will find it hilarious if I get her to reimburse me for buying an alien some lunch.” Saia chuckled. She slid a thin plastic sheet over the table to him.
Tor’laen picked it up, finding what was unmistakably a menu of some kind. After a few moments, he set it down.
“I may be able to read that, but I don’t have any idea what half of those words are.” He said mildly, feeling a bit more like himself once more.
“Not surprising, I guess, since this is your first time in a Zakkili restaurant.” She paused. “...it is your first time in a Zakkili restaurant, right?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Right. Hope you don’t mind me ordering for you.” Saia turned to flag down one of the staff.
A Zakkili woman wearing an odd uniform came to the table. To Tor’laen, it looked like some civilian dress with an apron tied over it. Not exactly formal wear. The waitress stood next to the table, her body facing the corporal, but her eyes repeatedly flicked excitedly to the Ydani.
“I’ll just have a cup of hot caff. As for my large friend here…how about an order of the navar meat skewers, cooked in the salt-tang sauce?”
“Of course, ma’am.” The woman glanced over at Tor’laen, a smile on her face. “Those skewers are great, you’re gonna love ‘em.”
A feeling of excitement and pride pushed against his mind, her thoughts rubbing against his. The Ydani drew back, as if stung, but the waitress had already turned away, heading towards the back of the restaurant.
“Something wrong, big guy?” There was a look of mild concern on the corporal’s face.
“That…that woman. She just…touched my mind. Tried to get inside my head.”
Saia’s face crinkled with confusion.
“What? No she didn’t. That was like, the most mild Press ever.”
“You all, you Zakkili, you just let citizens mess with people’s minds freely like that?” Tor’laen eyed her suspiciously.
“Mess with people’s minds…?” Saia repeated, looking at him like he was spouting nonsense. After a moment, her eyes widened. “Oh, Maker’s ire. You’ve pretty much only been around the Royal Hand and the command staff, haven’t you?”
“Mostly, yes.” Tor’laen nodded, still somewhat suspicious.
“Damn, no wonder you’re so jumpy.” The corporal sighed, leaning back against the wall behind her. “Listen, Tor’laen. We’re not all like the Crown Daughter. In fact, pretty much none of us are.”
“...what do you mean?”
“The average woman you see around here, or out on the streets, they can’t do what the Royal Hand can,” she explained. “The average Zakkili can maybe catch a stray thought or two from you, perhaps a strong feeling if you’re not careful. They can Press lightly with their emotions, maybe add some pressure to an argument or add a feeling of remorse to an apology. That’s about it. They couldn’t dig around in your head, even if they tried.”
Tor’laen’s brow furrowed.
“But the Crown Daughter can?”
“For Zakkili, the closer someone is to the royal line, the scarier they get. That’s what makes someone a noble, actually – they can probably trace some distant ancestry to royalty. Then the nobles with true blood ties are called Crown-kin. Those are the kind of Zakkili who could actually get into your mind – who could Delve into your memories, Press their will forcefully into you, or Burn something out of your head.”
“And since the Crown Daughter is the Queen Matriarch’s offspring…”
“Yeah.” Saia nodded. “There’s basically no one psychically stronger than a Crown Daughter, except the Queen herself, of course. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
That’s what I’ve felt. Tor’laen thought dourly, before hastily stuffing the notion deep into his mind, now wary of any idle thoughts escaping.
“Sounds complicated,” he said after a moment. “Needing to know someone’s lineage just to get an idea of how strong their powers might be.”
“Actually, there’s a pretty simple trick.” Saia grinned. She took one of the tendrils that hung loose from her temple between her fingers, lifting it up to show Tor’laen. “For us normal Zakkili, we call these mindthreads, while those with royal blood call theirs crownthreads. The simplified rule is: the longer the threads, the stronger the powers. You see someone like me, only down to my shoulders, and that’s your average Zakkili. You see one past a girl’s shoulderblades, and that’s when they get a little more frightening.”
She rolled the thin appendage between her thumb and forefinger.
“But still, even if someone has the strength or training to go inside your head, they can’t just do it at will. That’s illegal, you know? You Delve or Burn or Take someone, and you better have a damn good reason for doing it. Otherwise, you’re looking at serious prison time, at the very least.”
They were interrupted by the return of the waitress, bringing their order. She slid a cup of some dark liquid in front of Saia, then a plate of meat skewers in front of Tor’laen. Steam was still rising off the dish, and each piece of the meat dripped with a thick liquid which had a tantalizing amber color. The woman smiled at the Ydani as she placed it on the table, and he was able to give her a half-smile back this time.
Saia blew across her caff, then took a cautious sip. Tor’laen looked around the room. At the other tables full of Zakkili, eating, chatting, and sneaking glances at him. They didn’t seem quite as intimidating now. He might have overreacted. Just a little.
Still, it felt strange to the Ydani. He tried to imagine having a discussion with someone, what it would be like if suddenly their emotions were directly backing up their words. Imagining he could feel their anger, or their excitement with his mind as well as his ears. Slightly unsettling, but not quite frightening.
“You’re probably over-thinking it, aren’t you?”
He turned back to find Saia grinning up at him.
“I’ll admit, the idea feels very odd to me.” Tor’laen said quietly.
“That’s just how Zakkili society works. It’s not like we’re all diving into each other’s memories or taking control of people’s minds all the time.” The corporal shrugged. “It’s like…maybe you’re hitting on someone at the bar, and you might Skim a thought or two to see if there’s any chance of you getting lucky that night. Or maybe you Press some excitement into your friend, when you’re trying to get them to go out in the Under Deck together after your watch. Everyone does it, so no one really minds. That’s just how it goes. Like this.”
A soft feeling of bemusement touched his mind, and for a brief moment Tor’laen could feel the connection between them. Could tell that it was coming from her.
He raised an eyebrow at the corporal.
“Sorry, sorry.” She raised her palms, grinning. “But you’re gonna need to get used to it if you’re going to live here. Or spend any significant time around Zakkili.”
“I suppose you have a point.” Tor’laen sighed. He picked up one of the skewers on his plate, pulling one of the pieces of meat off the plastic spear with his teeth. His eye widened as a burst of salty, savory flavor exploded across his tongue. The meat was tender, just the slightest bit chewy, and seemed to melt as he moved it around his mouth. Its flavor lingered on his tongue even after he swallowed, filling his mouth with the juicy taste. It was almost unbelievable that this was just a normal dish in a seemingly average restaurant in the Under Deck.
“Good, right?” Saia was grinning at him again. “Best damn skewers on the whole level.”
Tor’laen merely nodded, hurriedly pulling another morsel off the plastic stick.
She drained the rest of her drink, then stood up.
“You finish those off while I go pay for the food. Once you’re done, we’ll keep this little tour going, yeah?”
She ambled toward the rear of the restaurant, leaving Tor’laen alone. He chewed his food thoughtfully, once again looking at the other patrons of the restaurant.
They still snuck looks, of course. Whispered. Pointed when they thought he wouldn’t notice.
But now, as Tor’laen took another bite of the rich, salty meat, he found it a little easier to see curiosity instead of malice.