Evaluations of the Tribe - Prossia Book 0 : A Coming of Age Space Opera Page 37
Epilogue
Planet Gooliun’s capital was days away from Kutenbrya. It was a polis, large enough to hold several thousand tribes, its fifty-story-high walls towering higher than any other Goolian construct on the entire planet. It was an astonishing achievement for creatures that didn’t have the technology of the advanced worlds. Gooliun didn’t have recourses deemed valuable enough to share in the galactic market, so the other alien nations didn’t see the need in keeping the “greenies” up to date with the important affairs happening in the “civilized world.”
However, Overseer Greagen, the Watcher and representative of the entire planetary nation of Gooliun, had performed some very unorthodox deeds over the past twelve years. He had the Galactic Order to thank for that, since they kept using one of the rare items they felt worth giving him discreetly.
Greagen sat in front of the only holographic monitor on the planet. As he looked into the device, two foreign faces were formed out of the blue light it emitted. One was a female that bore some resemblance to a Goolian. However, her ears were round, her eyes not as large, and instead of tents protruding out of her head, it bore fur instead. If the hologram showed color like the newer ones, it would have shown her as having deep orange skin. And since the image only showed her from the chest up, Greagen couldn’t see her large forearms and the three stubby digits she had on her hands, nor the claws on her fingers.
The second creature looked far more alien, with his entire body covered in fur. His shoulders weren’t even visible due to the length of his neck, and his jade green eyes had black slits for pupils. His pink nose protruded out of his face, giving it a defining bridge that the Goolian and other creature lacked. The bushy tail wrapped around his waist wasn’t visible, nor were the hind legs he walked on.
“Are you sure your people are ready, Master?” the hairy alien asked in the Universal tongue.
“Didn’t I even go through the trouble of having our youth change their curriculum when I received word twelve years ago?” Greagen said. “The first generation that followed the adjusted schedule from the beginning of their education are Young Ones now. They’re old enough for combat. We’re ready to serve by any means necessary.”
“Then, on behalf of the Galactic Order, you have billions beyond billions in gratitude, Greagen,” the orange mastra said. “We didn’t feel the need to...trouble your people with our affairs, but with the way the enemy is eyeing Argutas, it will only be a matter of time before your nation is caught in the war, as well.”
Greagen grabbed a bowl of water and sipped it. He hadn’t had to converse this long with people for years, and his throat had gotten raspy over time because of it.
“We are all followers in the Great Philosophy that is Truth’s Grace, Empress Uufru,” he said. “We all know the value of helping those in need. Rest assured, Planet Gooliun will be ready to have troops on Planet Argutas by the time your ships arrive.”
The hairy creature sat back in his chair and covered his face. “You don’t know what this will mean to my people. I wish war would stop being the only reason why our neighboring nations converse.”
“The Goolian people do not dwell on the past, Governor Rashule. We fancy to deal with the present. Now, the closest tribes will be receiving their draft letters in a few days. When can I expect your entire guest forces?”
“The first vessels just entered your system two hours ago,” Uufru said, “so they’ll be planet-side by the end of the week.”
Greagen stroked the long gray tents on his chin before rubbing his head. “So soon? I had no idea your vessels were that fast. We’ve never seen spaceships before, so I wonder what my people will think when they look in the sky and see them for the first time. They’ll probably think the world is coming to an end. Or maybe it is, and we just don’t know it yet.”
“As long as we stand together, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Rashule insisted. “We defeated the Cyogen before, and by the Great Philosophy’s Favor, we can do it again.”
“I hope you’re right, Master. Let’s just make sure we’re more thorough than our ancestors this time.”
“Agreed,” Uufru said. “We’ll keep in touch. The Optin military priest will update you accordingly upon arrival. Until then, give your guest our regards.”
Greagen’s left eye twitched. He turned around in his seat to see if anyone was behind him; there was no one there beyond the guards posted outside the door.
“You mean that half-breed thing that’s been lingering over my shoulders on every move? He’s not worth talking to.”
Uufru’s finger came into view when she held it to her lips. “Play nice, Master. Times have changed and we can’t be too picky now. Feel free to keep an eye on him, but he’s there to help your people with the introduction to the outside world. Oh, and since we’re on the subject of trust, I’ll ask this one more time: are you sure there’s nothing else worth noting about your people?”
Greagen leaned back in his seat and rested his head in his palm. “If you’re implying about some of my citizens’ rumored specialties, then I’m afraid I should, for the final time as well, insist that such things are remnants of stories passed down by our ancestors. They do not exist, do you understand? Truth’s Grace, I’m speaking Universal.”
“That’s enough, Mastra,” Rashule said. “He’s earned our trust. If something as valuable – or dangerous – as the Sungstra sub-species was real, then he would’ve told us so. He knows what’s at stake.”
Uufru’s head shrunk on Greagen’s projector, indicating she was leaning back from her own device. “Fine. Apologies, Overseer. The governor’s right. You’ve proven yourself both friend and comrade to the Allied Forces. In the meantime, watch the skies. We’ll see you soon.”
Greagen nodded and turned off the projector.
“Too soon,” he added. Then he checked another advanced piece of technology given to him by the aliens. He raised his palm and an orange orb formed out of it. It floated in front of him and morphed into a list of names when he touched it. He read down the file, reading the names, his eyes glancing over an “Alytchai of the Kutenbriun Tribe” as he counted the number of documented Sungstras.
“Truly, too soon.”
* * * * *
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