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Prologue

Ver. 1.2

The air smelled of dust and mildew. Shelves towered around me, covered in fossils, bones, and artifacts from dozens of planets. Two large metal sinks were on either side of the room. The left sink was full of clay-red water, where several specimens were soaking. Dusty streaks, and small piles of dirt littered the floor.

On a work table, a large chunk of what appeared to be concrete waited to be prepared. I wasn't told what it was, just that it could be valuable and fragile. In the past, I had some idea what I was preparing, but this time I had to do it, blind.

I had already analyzed the specimen, using the scanning equipment, in the lab. The mineral analysis was unremarkable, mostly various silicate minerals. The density map was inconclusive, with an indistinct mass which was mostly iron. The thumb-sized sonic brush could easily destroy a specimen, if not correctly set, or even properly used. Holding down the small button with my thumb, it whirred to life, as a small spot of yellow light played over the specimen. Where the light hit, dirt flaked away, some of which formed a a small cloud of dust. A shadow fell over the table. I released the button, which shut the device off, and I set it aside. “You gave me a tough one."

A warm, partially webbed, hand rested in my back. I turned to see a large, dark furred otter, who stood over two meters tall, leaning over me. Her face was a whiskered muzzle, with deep brown almond-shaped eyes, widely-spaced nostrils. Her ears were small and rounded. Behind her, her tail was thick and tapered, it's tip nearly touching the floor. On the middle of her forehead, was a puck-shaped device, held in place by a strap around her head, and a secondary strop beneath her chin. This was part of the translator, she wore so she could talk to me. Besides the translator, who wore nothing. She greeted me by driving her muzzle against my cheek, which tickled like crazy, then she grinned. I was still not fully used to being around non-humans, like Chakharans. Their concepts of personal space and levels of intimacy were a bit jarring. This was especially true on Ak'kos, which was, primarily, a Chakharan colony. This meant a very naked, somewhat feral, population, where humans and other species were expected to adapt. On earth, most people called them Lutrians, or simply Otters.

The Chakharan smiled toothily. “Dahn, You're doing great. Cary on."

“Your pronunciation is getting there." I smiled. It had taken her about a year to get her pronunciation of Don half way right. My surname, McFerran would take much more effort. Chakharan vocal tracts were not quite the same as those of humans. “So, what is this specimen? Did you disable the lab's net access?"

“Of course," she said. “You don't know if you have a piece of priceless treasure, or a common coprolite. Not every specimen is going to give you an analysis, and you might not always have access to the net."

“Izhara, I guess you're right."

“Of course, I'm right," said the otter. “I help run this place."

I grabbed the sonic brush and turned the top-most knurled wheel clockwise, until the tiny display read 20mm. Pressing the button, the device whirred, and shone a two centimeter wide light on the specimen. I, slowly, worked the brush, reducing more of the dirt and rock to dust, which began to pile around the specimen. A beep broke my concentration. I put the brush down, and turned to the otter.

Izhara Naraff grabbed a small Multi-Purpose Access Device, or Mpad, from a chair. She peered at the screen of the small tablet, then turned to me. “They approved your funding request. You know that you could stay and work on your doctorate program, here. I'll help you with your dissertation, and any classwork."

“I know, and I really appreciate it. I'll be back in about three or four years, and you can help me, then."

“I'd be glad to. but, it's just that things have gotten a bit rough out there." Chakharans didn't have quite as many facial muscles as humans do, but this didn't make it any harder to see the worry creeping over her face. “Zephenidians took out a small freighter, XC-20 class, two weeks ago."

“How many?" I asked.

“Four. They normally ignore such small targets."

“I'll be fine," I assured the Chakharan. “I'm going to try to get a posting on Alchoa II, or something. If not, I'll make sure the ship I'm on has a Wolf Hunter escort. I need this. It will make things much easier for me to lead my own projects, and get them funded. Or at the very least, I could serve on a science vessel. I don't want to be stuck just being a mere professor, or desk jockey."

“Being a professor is better than being dead!" She snapped. “Your Wolf Hunters aren't much help these days, since that religious zealot took over."

I sighed. “This is something I've wanted to do my whole life. I want to be out there doing the science. Besides, I think you've been getting a bit too close. I mean, I like you a lot, but I'm not into other species, when it comes to, ah, that stuff."

“I understand," said the otter. “We can be a bit intense. It took the Uushtorians almost two centuries to get over their hang-ups. They were, originally, far worse than your species."

“I really need to be where the real fun happens. I want to be at one of those digs, or poking around in a Denitrian ruin. I want to be the one who finds a field crumb on Alchoa II, or be the first human to stop through some weird portal, and end up in another galaxy. So, what happens, now?"

She looked at the Mpad, again. “You'd have to see dean, Zhin Charri who will help you make all the arrangements. Don't expect luxury. Most students travel by freighter."

“Still sounds cool to me," The sense of adventure made me giddy. I knew I was grossly over-romanticizing this. Freighters weren't bad, but their accommodations tended to be a bit basic. I'd likely be limited to a single bag, probably a backpack. At the field camps, I'd be sharing a tent, or prefab barracks, with a bunch of other students, sleepong on bunks or sleeping bags. It would be roughing it, but I felt this would be a welcome change to the overly cushy university life.

“I'm worried." Izhara rested her hand on my shoulder, again, and lightly kneaded me with her blunt claws. “The wolf Hunters are on the verge of civil war, which means Zephenidian ships would be crossing the border with impunity. I'd rather you wait. But if you insist, go as soon as possible, before the Zephs know something is up."

“What about the military," I asked.

“There's not enough ships." She rested her other hand on my left shoulder, and started massaging my back. She had never done this before, and was quite good at it. I suspected that she was doing this to convince me to stay. “Few military vessels patrol beyond Alchoa, in that region. There is one light cruiser at T'Kahtah II, since it's so close to the Zephenidian border. The Federation council has been pressuring the colonists to leave for nearly thirty years."

I sighed. The massage felt so good, though the attention made me feel a bit uneasy. Other species gave me that bestiality vibe. Maybe it was because so few Lutrians lived in the greater Portland Oregon area, where I grew up. In fact, I had never even seen a Chakharan in real life, until I was sixteen, when I went on a family vacation, during the summer. Izhara's flirting didn't help matters. Despite my misgivings, I leaned into the massage, and stretched, trying to take it as purely innocent. “Thank you. Should I complete this specimen?"

“There's no need." She ran her claws along my spine, causing me to shiver. “I'm going to write my letter of recommendation, and send it to Zhin Charri. You'll want to book a shuttle, soon"

“But…" I stammered. “I can finish the specimen, if you want."

“It's not necessary."

“So, what is it?" I asked, suspecting she knew what it was."

“I found an old, rusted, soup can in the woods near my house. I packed it with dirt, then baked it in a kiln." She smirked.

“So you made me waste our time working on a piece of trash-" I bit my tongue, remembering the old trope. “Yeah, that's archaeology."