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There’s space,

There’s space ships,

There’s a fleet of corpspeople who serve those that work and live within their world’s essential circuit of farming and industry planets. They ensure nominal communications, nominal production, nominal peace.

Did I mention the star ships?

Because within one of those star ships is a commander who never sleeps. When he does, his sleep is plagued by nightmares of urgency whose details he can never quite remember.

His rise through the ranks of mediation (and therein, the ranks of self-defense of character and physical safety) had earned him a highly accoladed position in the Department of Nominal Peace.

It was a matter of public safety, ensuring all of those working on auxiliary planets were physically, mentally, and emotionally willing and able to do so.

It was a position that lost the trust of the aging parents in his friendship circle.

Remember the space ships?

His friendship circle had been deemed at a young age to be emotionally incapable of being sown into the earth of an ill-fitted career on those planets of farming and industry, and been assigned to that fleet of corpspeople we were talking about earlier.

Upon receiving what should be a routine message to return to HomeBase (the corps’ monolith of a space station that orbits their home world) by command, that commander finds himself in the midst of an emergency spreading rapidly and taking over the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of his people. He finds himself calling his friends, desperately: the head of the programming department, the head of the teleportation department, and the head of the corps’ medical department (his fiancee).

He finds himself coming to terms with being the next in succession to lead that corps against something that has taken over the highest ranks.

It will not tell them what it wants.

It just takes them.

But, part of whatever that thing is… it seemed to be fighting against itself. The unwilling members of that entity that were lucky enough to be able to disagree with that other part—

that part that smiled an odiously serene smile,

that took over without regard for the willingness of those whose
skins it stole,

that seemed hyper-focused on trying to take over these
department heads specifically

—found themselves scrambling to keep as many of them safe as possible.

But, they’re not sure how to. They’re not sure where is safe. They’re not sure what it wants. They’re not sure how they can stop something whose means to an end were so disorienting and wicked. They’re not sure if they can.

Did I mention the space ships?

—***—

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