THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF AN UNFINISHED STORY. THIS IS A SCI-FI WORK BASED ON A REALLY COOL DREAM I HAD :P IT COULD PROBEBLY USE A FAIR BIT OF EDITING, NOT SURE.

INTO THE REMENANTS
It all began the night that the mists blotted out the skies. It started over the sea, where the water was deepest; slowly rising, like a bubble to the surface, to become a pyre. And still, silently it crept inland, covering the oceans, the coasts, the mountains, valleys, prairies, towns. It would begin on the horizon and one by one it would cover the stars. Mother, the children would ask, Father where is the sky?
This was the way things started. The people began to migrate inland, upward where the air was dryer and the skies more clear. The world began to grow hot, the summers longer, the snows stopped coming, and the world began to melt.
They had known it was coming, they had not known when. The scientists had foreseen the imminence of this time. We had wondered why the space shuttles had grown in number, even though interest in the stars had long since waned in pursuit of more interesting projects. Now we knew.
They had called it the warming. The warming it was. Some, minor shift in orbit, some change in atmosphere had set this off. As the world above us began to fade away, the world below began to disappear as well.
The seas boiled now, where the water was deep. The rain was constant, though light, for it would return to its gaseous state before it touched the burning ground. Volcanoes erupted, dead ones returned to life like some sort of bumbling zombie and slowly the ice, the last safe place, began to, ever so slowly, melt away.
The humans, now weak and dwindling, gave up on technology, on intellect and philosophy, on all that made them human. They began to realize that they would have to leave their home, their planet and escape into the unknown. The unknown that no child over the age of fourteen could even recall. The land beyond the mist. The children, the young, and those who knew the way of things were the ones who could leave. The old, the unskilled were all left on the planet to burn.
Those who escaped watched as earth, their beloved earth broke apart, destroyed itself. Its pieces spiraling across the system.
We do not know which planet they hit first, but we do know that every planet, every piece of land in the system was destroyed. When the earth’s shattered pieces hit another planet, it broke apart and hit another planet and another and another until our sun, that which children had once played in, the last reminder of home, became the center of no more then an asteroid belt.
We had to wait generations for the system to stabilize, for the planetoids to form and the originators, the leftovers from the world began to plant and recreate atmosphere. Humans flocked from all over the system. They began to land on the new planets, to rebuild what little they had left. Things began to return to normal…
And then they came…










The small boy lurched upright in his bed. His father ran in the room screaming at him. Luke! Luke! We must leave! What was happening? In the darkness screams arose. People ran for the edge of the village. Just a small mechanics town, ship builders, peaceful. Now they must learn to escape, and quickly. For the Mah-hilaki had landed.
Smoke, curling up to the sky, reaching for the moon. His father grabbed him by his small hand, pulling him out of the bed and ripping him along the ground as he fought to keep up. Confusion, much confusion. Why are we afraid? In the darkness the ship glinted in the fires. Twelve white figures, all of them streaming out into the village. How slowly they walk, do they not wish to catch those who skitter away like frightened rabbits? Is that not why they are here?
His father pushed through the masses. His hand slipped, the boy lost to the struggling crowd. The child is left behind. He curled up, among the warm embers that engulfed the village from the forgotten hearths, left so hastily they did not think to squander the flames.
A hand on the cold shoulder of the boy, who slept fitfully. The form jerked awake, he tried to scream but the hand laid itself gently on his mouth. A Mage leans down to the boy. White, nightmares of the whole world, all invoked within these twelve forms.
And yet, as warm hands pulled off the white hood that causes so much fear and they revealed a warm face, almost repentant for its very presence, and all was silent but for the crackling embers and far off chirps of various creatures of the night, the boy was at peace. The mage reached down, as to comfort the child. He offered a hand, lifting him up, beckoning him to the ship, knowing that his true father will have given up on ever finding his son.
He hesitated, for a moment, then, without a wistful look or even short farewell, he runs towards the mage, aboard the Mah-hilaki, and leaves the life he will soon forget, and onward to become what the world fears most. What we, the Mages, live for.
To become free.











Chapter 1
The twelfth mage

“Do you even really know how it all began?” The voice said disapprovingly.
“Sure I do,” He responded. “Easy. The worlds were in turmoil and he came to save us.”
“Who came to save you?” The voice insisted.
“The glorious Emperor, leader of the Vabrau, Sun King, may his name be praised.”
“It’s quite a mouthful to be going around praising all the time.” Responded the voice.
“I feel his glory in it.” He replied adamantly.
“You still haven’t told me how it began.” Said the voice.
“The Humans were made to leave their planet by the great warming. Those who survived were forced to colonize the remaining planetoids of the system. Then, the other species came, most with little technology as a result of their long voyages.”
“And why did they come?” the voice prompted, like a school teacher.
“They were slave traders. They pretended to be friendly; they helped us replant the planetoids, and then they murdered and enslaved.”
“Then?”
“Then the government formed. To keep the peace. To protect everyone from each other. It was a fair government but unguided and in need of a leader.”
“So that is when your glorious Sun King decided to grace you with his presence?” said the voice, its dislike apparent.
“Precisely.”
“And has he told you children why he has come?”
“To protect us.” He responded confidently.
“No, child no.” the voice said sadly.
“The old government was weak, and he has strengthened it, so he has saved us.”
“He has condemned you. All of you.”
“You lie.” His anger was rising now.
“Someday, maybe, you will grow wiser.”
“I am not a child; do not speak to me so.” He responded, prickling around the edges. He looked young but he was passing thirty in a few days. He was not young.
“You are in my eyes. If not in body, than in mind. You are a child-like people.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean? Why do you speak of the Emperor leader of the Vabrau, Sun King, may his name be praised, in such a way?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Ah,” Sighed the voice. “You see, child, the secrets of the world, unlike the secrets of its people, cannot be simply whispered into ones ear. Think on it?”
“I will.”
“Already your childhood falls away.” The voice whispered. “Be careful of what you see when it does.”


Quinn jerked awake. He was in his small room. It’s dank and dim walls, smelling of packed dirt and unwatered dust. Its swooping brown walls lacking form, as though a giant had come and scooped it out with his fingers. His familiar sheets tangled around him and his familiar shelves covered in knick-knacks that he had no time to tinker with anymore. He was home. Home in Barsimuth, in the dirt slums, seven miles west of the Capital City, Two miles east of the slave market at Akiniy. Awake and away from his nightmares.
He sat up in his thin mattress bed. It was cold this morning in his little, two room dirt hutch. Barsimuth had been populated by mostly scrub seed in the replanting and very few trees survived. His shelves and his bed were made out of thick dirt projections that stuck out from the walls at uneven angles. He scrunched up his fine blond hair between his fingers as he leaned over the bed. Such strange dreams…
Who was it who spoke to him and asked him such strange questions? And why did they ask him? He couldn’t even recall the sound of the voice, its species, its gender. Almost as though the voice were in his own thoughts. He would never think such blasphemous thoughts about the Emperor, the leader of the Vabrau1, the Sun King may his name be praised.
Would he?

Quinn stood up, slipping his feet into his boots and lacing them up to the knees of his rough; warn Government Issue town pants, he sighed. Smoothed his sleep rumpled hair and walked through his domed doorway into his kitchen. Pumped himself a glass of water, he swished it in his mouth and spat it out on the ground. For a moment he felt sorry, as he watched the water clod melt into the dirt floor, water was rationed and he knew he should be more responsible with it. It was much better to drink the milk or distilled saps that the planet profusely provided but water was a luxury that always settled him after the strange dreams he was having. Still, the moment passed and he returned to his room, gathered his things and prepared for the day.
Quinn looked out his small window; it was early, judging by the sun. He had plenty of time to walk to the shipyard where he worked; he could even stop by the Keller, the local pub, on his way. He was a sacker, a greeter and bag carrier down at the landing pad. He had initially dreamed that the job would bring him fortune or that he would meet somebody important, special, or, God knows, even the Sun King himself. He did live close to the capital city. Still, after ten years working at the docks he learned the truth of life. Some people were not destined for fairy tales or luck. Some people had dull lives, with dull beginnings and duller ends. The only interesting way he could die at this point would be for him to be smushed by landing frigate. Sometimes he thought that would be the easiest way to go, the best way, no fuss. Still, if he was smushed than he hoped they smushed him good. The one thing that woke him up in night terrors faster then anything else would be the dreams about what would happen to him after; after he died who would take his body? Who would notice it and what would they do with it when they found out?
Quinn shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to know. Still, as he walked back into his room and looked at the fractured hand-mirror that hung haphazard on his wall, the truth was plain. They would destroy his body. This body. They would make sure that no one person ever got a chance to study it, save them. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe…all they said, about people like him? Maybe…
Maybe it was just better that way.
1 (VOW-bro) the name of the government as a whole, it is controlled by the Emperor.
And yet his reflection persistently would not cease to exist like he wished it would. Thin from years in the dirt slums, projecting cheekbones and human eyes. Blue eyes. Blond human hair and whitish human skin. In all nature, he looked human. He thought like a Human, he was raised one.
Still, as he reached up to put on his thick leather shoulder cassock, his six fingered hands shot into view. His shoulder spines poked at his shirt as he pulled the cassock over his head to cover them. His forked tongue peaked through his mouth as he yawned. His Vian spins, his Vian mouth and his Vian fingers. His traitorous Vian body.
He took a last look at himself in the mirror and sighed. He had told himself he was to stop thinking about that too. No more what ifs and no more thoughts of ‘if only’. ‘If only I wasn’t this way’, ‘if only I was normal’, ‘if only my Vian mother and Human father hadn’t fallen in forbidden love’. If only they hadn’t loved. ‘If only they had followed the rules. If only they had destroyed me, like they were supposed to’. It had killed them. He knew that. Living illegal, and it would kill him too someday, he knew that, he knew that.
Silently he closed his mouth, he covered his hands, and he hid his spines. He ventured into a world where life was judged by your biology, where, for Quinn, existence was a crime. Surviving was a crime. Breathing was a crime. To drink water was to take it away from a legal; to eat was to pull food from the mouths of starving full bred children; to live, was a crime.
And he knew it. He felt it. As he walked through the streets invisible. As he dreamed of children and a wife that he would never allow himself to have. As he praised to Emperor who made these laws, to keep the peace, he said, he knew it.


Quinn walked into the pub. It was more of a café really, but it served distilled fruits and so was labeled as such. It was well lit, and large picture windows looked out at the town of dirt and the corner of the old docks that gleamed in the morn-light. The Pub was packed to the brim with little round tables and quaint little chairs. There were two large booths that were carved out, elliptical, into the walls. Large, green velvet seats that under-crowned the windows. A little old man, short and burly, stood at the bar and wiped down dishes. There were a few people sitting around and humming together in pleasant talk. Quinn looked to the largest of the booths, where a large group huddled around laughing. Quinn rolled his eyes and moved silently towards them. Quinn was silent and awkward, due to having to hide his tongue when he spoke, which made him ill suited for climbing the social ladder, but he tried anyway. Because of his lack of success he didn’t feel as guilty about it.
He sat down next to the group. Most of them he felt neutral towards, some he liked, some he hated.
“Hello Quinn.” Porsaece nodded. Porsaece was the only one of the group that Quinn truly liked and was proud to be friends with. He was Mehri, tall, with faint blue skin and elegant limbs. He was made for the water, a strange creature to be seen in the dusts of Barsimuth. His fingers were connected by near transparent webbing and his eyes were turned up at the ends. He worked here as an ambassador to visiting Mehri people, but, of course, no one ever visited. Only city officials, soldiers, and prisoners being transported ever flew. Quinn himself had spent nearly half his life aboard a vessel and never when it was in flight. Still, that was okay with him, strange things happened aboard vessels. And all ships were built of pre-warming technology. They were rickety and old, far from trustworthy in Quinn’s eyes.
And then there were the Mages.
Quinn had never seen a Mage, only heard of them. There were none alive who had not heard of them, and few who dared not fear them. There were awful tales of children being taken aboard and never seen again, eaten, people said. Like that mechanics boy, the one taken in the middle of the night while his village burned, Luke. The tales were unthinkable, Quinn shivered to shake himself free of the thought.
The rowdy group he sat with began to loosen up even further as their gullets opened drinking more and more.
“Hey, Quinn-baby!” A reptilian friend of his leaned on the table, slurring, just noticing his friend’s arrival. He was drunk, and the waves of fermented fruit water wafted towards him. He wondered if the Pre-warming Human’s ever had to deal with this. It was bad enough he was drunk, but lizard species have especially foul breath.
“What Hisha?” Quinn said quietly, sitting back.
“Anyone ever tell yous…that Humansh look like hairlesh…” Hisha stopped suddenly, groaning as the Human bartender grabbed him by his loose neck scales, and dragged him out of the booth.
“You’ve had too much booze, I’m cutting you off.” The robust man muttered sharply, throwing him out on the dusty road.
Ittol and the others laughed. Porsaece let out a large breath that indicated a sigh. He turned to Quinn who shrugged and ordered a small, nonalcoholic drink.
“The Emperor is building a new statue in the capital city.” One of the group, Renic, spoke up, exceedingly drunk. “Think it’ll have his face on it?”
“Do not speak of such things.” Porsaece said quietly. “It is blasphemous.”
“I just don’t understand why he never shows his face, even in his statues he has that helmet on.” Renic continued. Quinn’s back stiffened. It was unwise to speak of the Emperor in such frank terms.
“Renic.” Another of the drunken band spoke up. “The helmet is his face.”
“It is dangerous for the Emperor in such times.” Porsaece spoke calmly. “The Rebellion is everywhere and their bastard sons look to kill the Emperor. The fact that he comes out to speak to us at all, shows his courage. Now, cease this talk.”
“Aw, come on.” Renic laughed. “The Vabrau don’t have ears everywhere.”
“Every ear,” Porsaece responded seriously, “Is a Vabrau ear.”
There was quiet contemplation of this, and the crowd quieted. Quinn smiled as he received his drink and sipped silently at it. This was why he liked Porsaece.

Quinn sighed to himself as the group returned to its drunken state. Porsaece shot him a silent look of despair. Quinn knew how he felt, Porsaece, like many others, would not be here if not for rising up in the classes. Porsaece wished to have children someday, and if he ever loved his children he would give them a better world to be born into.
Quinn heard the distant sound of a ship landing. He drank down the rest of his fruit water and nodded to Porsaece, the sound of a ship probably meant that his employer would be looking for him down at the docks. He rose up and brushed himself off, Porsaece rose up as well. A couple of the group waved goodbye.
Quinn took a step towards the door, still looking over at Porsaece when suddenly he bumped into someone. Quinn mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ as he turned. It was Hisha. His scaled, human-esque features were drained of blood. His eyes were unfocused and he walked unsteadily. Quinn wondered if he had gone outside and been ill from so much alcohol. Hisha stalked unsteadily back towards the table, landing heavily on the booth he sat. He then proceeded to grab Ittol’s drink and suck it down. Ittol put up a protest but Hisha did not hear him.
“Hey, I cut you off!” The bartender called from across the room, setting down the dishware he was washing and throwing a rag over his shoulder.
“Hisha?” Renic said slowly. “Hisha, what are you doing?”
“He’s drunk,” Ittol grumbled.
Quinn rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for Hisha and his antics. The ship outside was probably full of traders looking for someone to unload their gear. He did not want to stay here anyway, once the traders found someone to do that, they would come here and become violently drunk. That’s what they always did.
Quinn turned back to the door.
“Holy…” Quinn whispered. His jaw dropped and he had to close it quickly, in case someone saw his tongue.
But no one was looking at him.
Quinn scrambled backwards and flung himself into the booth, scrambling to the middle of the group. Porsaece, too, sat back down, even his calm demeaning spiking.
“Hell…” Renic whispered, grabbing a whiskey and gulping it.
Through the door a group had come, bring with them the nightmares of a thousand dreams. Long, tall, in white robes, embossed with dark leather, hoods pulled down low so that they lacked faces. Maybe they had no faces. Formless and cruel. Certainly the way they floated along with molasses slowness gave the appearance that they were not beings. Across their backs the cold glint of steel danger. Weapons.
The bar grew dead silent. Every person tried their hardest to not look upon them. All stared dully down and forward, but could not hide the horrified glances that they shot towards the visitors.
Those visited by mages, did not live to speak of the experience.
The mages. The White mages of the Mah-hilaki. The Death ship. Eleven of the twelve mages. With their weapons strung across their backs.
They moved slow and silent. Never speaking a word between them. They all moved like one organism. The walked towards a table in the middle of the room and sat. Staring at each other as if in silent communication. Every now and then a single hood would bob as if in a soundless nod.
“Drinks.” One of them said, slapping some coins out on the table, shattering the stillness. The bartender stared blankly at them for a moment, and then rushed into action, pouring them eleven glasses of his best wine. One or two of them took sips but most of them just ignored the fine drink put in front of them. The bartender opened his mouth, about to ask them if they wanted anything else, as he was trained to do, but then stopped himself and with a red face he scurried back behind the bar.
They worked for the rebellion. The small faction that fought against the emperor and forced the system into turmoil. Most of the troubles of the worlds could be traced back to the rebels or the half breeds. The Rebels were proof that the half breeds were crazy. Almost all the rebel fighters were mutts like Quinn. That scared him.
“What do you think they want?” Renic said to Quinn in a barely audible whisper. Quinn failed to respond. “They’ll probably kill us all.” Renic squeaked.
“Shut up Renic.” Quinn hissed. “Maybe they just want a drink.”
“Crazy half-breeds.” Renic groaned. Quinn’s back arched. He had hoped that the scare had sobered Renic up, but apparently it had not.
“I said shut up.” Quinn hissed again.
Suddenly all the Mages turned, slowly, like a creaking door; they opened themselves up to the elliptical booth and stared right at Quinn.
Renic gave a squeal of fright and ducked down lower in the booth.
“I’m sorry.” Renic whispered to Quinn “Oh, God and the Emperor be praised. Save my soul.”
“That’s not going to make them happier.” Quinn jabbed him in the side. “Just shut the hell up already.”
The mages rose. Each of them rolling their spines upwards they turned towards the booth.
In that molasses slowness, they floated more than walked as they made their way around the tables and chairs, each person silently sobbing as they passed. As their heads bobbed, ever so slightly, those giant hoods blowing as they walked, he caught the slightest look under the hood of the front most Mage. He was smiling.
“Quinn of Barsimuth.” The front one spoke, his voice spidery and whispered.
They know my name? Quinn thought lamely to himself. I am in trouble.
Shattered glass flung itself about the bar as Quinn threw himself through the giant picture window. To the dirt road he flew, landing, he picked himself up and ran, hoping to reach the city, and leave the quiet outskirt town. It was no use. As he looked back he saw all eleven Mages, their long legs and powerful strides much stronger then his own. Creatures who only moments ago were loath to move at any pace at all now flew across the loose dust in pursuit of Quinn. Their cloaks billowed around them, white boots, soundless, thundered along the still road, the only proof that they were of the living and not floating among the dead.
Two of them appeared in front of him. Perfectly still they stood. Quinn, paralyzed with fear, stopped.
“Quinn of Barsimuth.” The same one who’d ordered spoke, as the others suddenly surrounded him. Quinn longed and feared to see exactly what resided underneath the cloak. “It is time you left this imperialist planet.”
Quinn turned quickly to see two more land behind him with feline grace. Back in the bar, the whole group crowded around the broken window. He could see Porsaece reaching for his pistol.
“I…” Quinn stuttered, turning back. Would they allow him to speak? “This is my home.”
“No.” The mage gave no indication that he was the one speaking, the hood was perfectly still. This could simply be some kind of sick puppet and he was their prop. “This planet cannot be home to one of our kind.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Quinn lied. They had been watching him?
“We are disappointed.” The Mage muttered. “We are giving you a chance to be free; you will never again be forced to hide yourself. What you live now is not life, but merely a shadow of it, the fear of what you really are. Why do you fear yourself?”
“I don’t know what you speak of!” Quinn shouted at them, turning his back to the speaker, just wanting to return to the comfortable booth back in the café. If only he could stall long enough for Porsaece…
But as he looked Porsaece had stopped and was listening intently to what was being said.
“You are a half breed.” The Mage said quietly. But the electric vibration of fear and excitement from his friends was near audible. And yet a dead silence from the bar, if that was possible. It was as if any noise would release the electricity and the world would shatter, destroying everything. Quinn’s friends stared onward, Porsaece, Porsaece. Quinn’s only true friend squinted, pained, at the words. He turned away, shattering the silence with a sip of the drink in front of him. One by one all his friends joined in. They no longer registered the scared half breed outside. He was lost to them, the words of a half breed never reached their ears and the screams were lost to the disdain of once friends.
The one mage held Quinn back as he fought to call out to his friend. The Mage was too strong.
Quinn hung his head in silence. They knew, his home was gone in the utterance of those five words, he could never come back.
“You didn’t need to tell them.” Quinn whispered in despair.
“You were living a lie.” The mage answered coldly. “You now are faced with a choice. You may come with us, join your people, a poorer people but those who do not hate you for what you are, Or you may stay here. It’s up to you.” The Mage gave a long deep nod, and turning he began to glide away. The other mages floated past him as if in slow motion, their cloaks flowing out behind them, like ebony ghosts they strolled, as if not in the knowledge a mans life had been changed forever, his past now a ghost itself.
“What choice do I have?” Quinn turned around, the retreating figures blurred by hot tears. He hung his head to the side, taking a deep, pained breath he took a step forward, and another, and another. Not real, it’s not real, split second loss, not possible. I just have to finish the dream. That’s all, it’ll be over. Foot over foot, Quinn stepped towards the ship of legend, the Mah-hilaki.

Quinn stepped aboard in shock. The cold slow mages, faceless in their white cloaks suddenly threw themselves on bunks in the main corridor. They peeled off their hoods and relaxed. As if once in this ship their time frame sped up to normal speed. Sped up as though the molasses ended at the door. Their cloaks disappearing, their freakish, frightening visages of white replaced by live young smiles. Young, very young. Their faces were twisted mixes of the different races of this galaxy.
Some of them were blue and tall like Porsaece others mixes of Human and the Reptilian race of Hisha. The speaker stepped forward, his hood hung low behind his long cloak.
“Hi.” He gave s little smile. “I’m Trigger.” He was Human and Mehri. He was very tall, the left of his face was blue, and it swirled into the pale pink right side. His ears were long and sprouted webbed tines. His hair fluffed out in all directions and had a small ponytail in back. “Welcome to the Mah-hilaki.” His voice turned sarcastic, grinning with needle teeth. “Feared among species, torture room of Imperials and where we dine upon children.”
“That would be me.” A tall Teenager about fifteen, deep of voice and random in his breeding offered his hand. “I’m Luke of Alea.” His skin was paler than humans, the sides of his forehead showed silver scales, they ran along his neck in spirals, his hair was light brown, blue and red along the tips of it, like fire. His eyes were golden, burning in their gaze.
“Hello.” Quinn nodded, he was young, he hadn’t expected them to be so…well, he didn’t know what he’d expected, just not…had it been so long ago that word had come of the mechanics boy, four years old, taken from his father by the mages while his town burned around him, said to be eaten alive? What else did he think about the Mages that was wrong?
“I suppose you’ve heard that rumor.” Luke grinned, “I was adopted by the mages, when I was…very young. I was abandoned, would’ve died otherwise. Most of the mages who raised me are gone now, killed. However, I am probably the mage with the longest time of active duty in the records.” He nodded briefly. “I’ll set a coarse.” And he headed towards the small opening that lead to the bridge. The mages died? Do mages die? Of course they did. He could see that now, they were beings weren’t they?
Soon the ship began to shake like the seams were coming apart, after much groaning, the old ship lifted and they were off.
“Aaah, are we keeping this one?” Suddenly a creature thrust its head in Quinn’s personal space. Its eye’s were gigantic and faded; its nose flat, its fingers long and webbed. Long scars ran their way along his pale skin. Its grating whisper voice was hard to listen to.
“Keever.” Trigger muttered. “Stop making him think that the rumors that we eat people are true.”
“I’m trying to see him.” Keever hissed, turning his head towards Triggers voice. “Welcome.” It hissed, stalking away.
“Ignore Keever.” The only girl aboard leaned off the bunk atop Quinn. “He’s a monster.” She extended her hand towards him; he took the long nailed fingers tentatively. ‘I’m Ticra of the bird people.” She let out a long shrieking noise, which was loud but yet pleasing to the ears, sending a tingle down his spine. Her hair was not even hair, but feathers of various colors. Her fingernails were long and pointed; her skin was faintly scaled, and shone brightly in the dim light from the overhead. Her orange eyes were thin and beautiful. Her skin a pale blue-purple.
“Yah, you can ignore Ticra too.” Luke laughed.
“You never answered my question.” Kreever muttered from the corner bunk.
“That’s up to him, you know that.”
“What is?” Quinn whispered. His heart was racing but he was in a strange, almost eerie calm. The whole thing just didn’t feel real enough; it was like a dream, like the dream. Still, the pit of his stomach had dropped. It was almost like he wasn’t with the mages at all, like they were imposters. Hadn’t the emperor told them to fear the mages? Hadn’t he told them that the creatures under the hoods were depraved monsters, only mere imitations of legal beings? Yet, here, beneath the hoods, they seemed like any other being. No, they were different, certainly different from the group down at the Keller, but…was it worse?
“Whether or not you wish to stay with us.” Luke told him.
“I get a choice?” Quinn asked; open his mouth wider, speaking louder than he had allowed himself in the past. He was almost surprised to see people hear him, listen to him.
“Most certainly.” Luke smiled. “We are not the monsters that you hear about in the Sun King’s speeches. We are mortal and we are not entirely terrible. Not every word the Sun King utters is true. He is a politician Quinn, not a god. Many people forget this. A Pertinent example, Quinn, do you know what the government does to people like us? To half breeds?”
“They move us to institutions where they make sure that our kind do not hurt…”
“Wrong.” Trigger interrupted. “Painfully wrong. Quinn, the Emperor has clouded your perception of things.”
“Let Luke speak.” A mage in the background spoke quietly.
“They hunt us and kill us,” Trigger continued “if they have these so called institutions then tell me where they are.”
“Trigger,” Luke said disapprovingly. If not for the situation, Quinn might have laughed to see a boy as young as Luke, rebuking the strapping Mutt who stood over him. “Be careful.”
“I don’t know where they are.” Quinn stammered.
“It’s because they don’t exist.” Luke said slowly. “Quinn…for the last two hundred years, the government and its agents have searched for people like you and me. They hunt us down and take us to facilities. They’ve been committing genocide, under the city’s nose, for over two centuries.”
“And they were looking to add you to the list.” Ticra sat up. “What do you think of your emperor now, may his name be praised.” She spat out the last part.
“What…” Quinn gulped. What did she mean, what could she mean? He was a slum rat, an unnoticeable. He did his taxes, he was good. What reason did the government have to look for him? What reason did anyone have to go and look for him?
“I said be careful,” Luke spoke loudly. “We have to go slowly.” He turned to Quinn. “Are you alright? Do you need to lie down?”
“What did she mean?” Quinn breathed.
“In time.” Luke assured him. “I believe you should rest first. It’s been a traumatic day.”
“What did she mean?” He yelled, for the first time in his life, grabbing onto Luke’s white robe and shaking him, surprising himself with his volume. Luke sighed.
“The government is corrupt Quinn.” Luke began. “Very, very corrupt.”
“So you tell me.” Quinn shouted, “How can I trust you?”
“How can you trust them?” Trigger countered.
“Quinn.” Said Luke. “The government, for reasons important only to the government, cannot allow the existence of cross breeds. They spread propaganda about us and they murder the living mutts. Even the smallest most insignificant cross bred slave is worthy of a government investigation leading to the Emperor himself. You were one of those people Quinn. The government had found you. That’s how we learned of you as well, through Vabrau channels. If we had not come and you had not come with us, within seventy-two hours, you would have been dead.” The words hit him like a bullet. Dead? Killed by the Vabrau. They were lying, they were lying to him. They were the rebels, that’s what they did, they lied. It was only logical. Dead? Not smashed by a frigate, not even dead in his home to found and torn apart in the name of science. Dead, by the Vabrau. By the glorious emperor, may his…name be…
“Catch him!” Luke called. Quinn’s knees buckled and he felt several strong hands clutch at him.
“You alright there?” Trigger asked. Quinn’s head lolled to one side. His thoughts were swimming and his body was lead.
“I told you to go slow.” Luke rebuked.
“What are you saying?” Quinn garbled as they set him down on one of the tightly packed bunks, he leaned his arms on his knees as he stared at the floor which moved like the tide. He couldn’t get enough air.
“It’s okay.” Another of the young mages said calmly. “Things will be alright.”
“I wanna…go home…” Quinn mumbled.
“What’s he saying?” One mage whispered to another. Though it was hard to make the distinction, one white body was blended into another.
“I wanna…” Quinn started. “I wanna…”
“Watch him!” Someone yelled out of the darkness. Quinn vomited and pitched forward off the bunk.
“Derveck!” A voice sighed. “I told you to be careful.”
And everything else was lost.

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