themselves from the Terran Empire and siding with the newly formed Interstellar Alliance. Vance was one of thousands of Pilgrims serving in the Alliance military, though their features always betrayed them as being of Terran origin.
“All right,” Vance said, knowing their attention wouldn’t last much longer. “I’ll brief the captain and will let you know when we have our next mission. Take time to relax. Believe me, you earned it.”
“This coming from a man who’s both older and wiser than all of us,” Nova told the others.
“Well, he’s wiser.” Ainj glanced at the still-naked Wyndgaart standing at the shower room door.
“And definitely older.” Eza waved his hand and his manhood at the retreating Pilgrim.
Shaking his head in disgust, Vance left and closed the door behind him.
“We’ll miss you.” Nova giggled, as Ainj kissed the crook of her neck.
Eza disappeared into the shower room while the others began unpacking their gear and changing into more- comfortable clothing. Unlacing his boots, Yen looked at the massive Tusque, whose reinforced bed still sagged under his weight.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Yen removed the first boot.
“I came out of the infantry before joining this group,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like rolling thunder. The bed creaked under him, as he shifted his bulk on the sturdy mattress. “Officers still make me nervous.”
“Did I just hear that right?” Ainj slid off the bed and walked over. “Something actually makes you nervous?”
Nova sauntered over, resting her head on Ainj’s shoulder and sighing. “Since it seems like hanging out with the boys is more important than spending time with me….”
A loud knock interrupted the joking. Eza rushed from the shower, naked and dripping water on the floor.
“Was that someone at the door?” he asked excitedly. “I’m expecting mail from home.”
He made it a few steps from the shower room before a spiny black hand was placed against his chest.
“Pants,” the Lithid ordered. “Now.”
Eza, looking dejected, frowned at him. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“You don’t have to like me, but you do have to put on pants.”
His frown deepening, Eza retreated to the shower room, while Nova went to the door. It slid open, revealing a Crewman First Class, holding a bag defensively in front of him.
“Mail delivery.” He held out the bag. “We’ve been collecting it since your team departed.”
Nova took the bag, offering the crewman a warm smile, which he confidently returned. In response, she shut the door in his face.
“Mail delivery,” she said.
The entire team, save Ixibas, hurried to the central table, as Nova carried the bag over and carelessly dumped it before the eager group. A multitude of packages spilled out and were quickly divided among them. Eza ran from the shower room wearing only pants, water dripping from his golden hair.
Foodstuffs were passed around, as each member shared the contents of the boxes. Many items, such as disks full of local news and boxes of clothing, were discarded into a growing pile of trash. As Nova opened her box, thin mist poured from the punctured sides. Lifting the lid, she tossed the box onto the table in revulsion.
The team leaned over the opened box. From the mist, six bulbous insects appeared. On their backs, skewered into the packaging, the cooked larvae produced a rancid odor. Yen turned away, dry heaving from the scent.
“Why do your parents insist on sending you those?” Ainj asked in disgust.
“They mean well.” She covered her nose, her eyes watering from the smell.
“Those insects are actually a delicacy on her planet,” Ixibas said, joining the team.
“And deep-fried fetuses are a delicacy among the Oterians,” Tusque rumbled. “It doesn’t mean I have any interest in trying one.”
Ixibas ran a closed hand over the top of the nearest insect. “So it’s safe to assume no one has any objections to my taking these?”
“That’s disgusting!” Tusque said, clearly nauseous. “How can you eat those?”
“I love them.”
“No, I think he means it literally,” Yen said, while the others laughed. “You don’t have a mouth.”
The black hide on the face oozed peach-colored liquid. Flowing like water, the ooze congealed and formed two full lips. They were out of place on the rest of his still-black face, as he smiled, revealing two rows of razor- sharp teeth. He picked up an insect and popped it into his mouth. The larvae crunched loudly, as his sharp teeth tore through the hard exoskeleton.
“Delicious.” Ixibas scooped up the box of insects.
“It’s only because he doesn’t have a sense of smell or taste,” Nova muttered, her brow furrowed in horror.
“Nothing for you this time, Yen?” Tusque asked, looking at the remaining packages.
“No family,” Yen explained. “There really isn’t anyone to send me care packages.”
“You’re more than welcome to any food my parents send,” Nova said dramatically. “My treat.”
Eza waved his hand in front of his face to get rid of the smell, as he came closer to the table. “Any packages for me?”
Ainj pushed through the last packages, pulling out a small box with Eza’s name on it in feminine script. “There is, and it’s from a woman!”
“Give that to me.” Eza’s hand snaked out in a blur, cleanly snatching the package from Ainj’s grasp. Moving away from the group, he went to his bedside with the others following. Knowing he couldn’t escape them, he opened the box and pulled out a letter and a picture of a beautiful, young, silver-haired Wyndgaart.
“Oh, she’s cute,” Ainj said, drawing an angry punch from Nova.
“Don’t even think about it,” Eza replied angrily. “She’s my sister.”
“Sister?” Yen groomed himself. “Have you told her about me yet?”
“She’s not your type,” Ainj teased.
“But she’s yours?” Yen asked.
“I’m everyone’s type.” He unfurled his wings.
“Enough,” Eza said in agitation. “I’m serious. This is my little sister you’re talking about.”
“All right,” Tusque told the group. “Enough teasing.” The massive Oterian nodded to Eza. “Tell us about her, since you so casually forgot to mention her before.”
Eza turned to face the intrigued team. “Keryn is a brilliant little girl. Well, I guess she’s a woman now. It’s hard to believe we’ve been gone long enough that she’s a woman. She’s already old enough that she’s getting ready to graduate from the schoolhouse.”
“Is she getting ready for Initiation, then?” Nova asked.
“No. She’s….” He looked slightly embarrassed. “She’s not going through Initiation.”
“I thought that was mandatory.” Ainj sidled up to Nova. “I thought the Voice forced Wyndgaarts to go through the ritual at a certain age.”
“How much do you know about the Voice?” Seeing only a few sheepish shrugs, he tried to explain. “All Wyndgaarts are born with the Voice already part of their genetic programming. Held within that complex genetic code are the memories of centuries of warriors who came before us. For most Wyndgaarts, it’s an honor to merge with your Voice and accept the memories of your ancestors, but the merge changes a person.
“Suddenly, the weight and responsibility of hundreds of years rests solely within the confines of our mind. As much as it’s a badge of honor to most, it’s not a requirement among us. For those who are willing to pursue different courses in life, you can find loopholes in one’s predisposition, means by which a Wyndgaart can break from his genetic coding and enact his own version of free will.”
“You make it sound like your race is held hostage by the Voice,” Yen said. “I thought it was an honor to go through Initiation.”
“It is for those who are willing. There has never been a greater experience for me than Initiation and finally fusing with my Voice, but that path isn’t for people like Keryn. They have too much potential to wind up like me, a gunslinger fighting on the front lines. She deserves more from life. If all goes well, she’ll never be exposed to the kind of danger we see every day.”
