Borealis

The hatch of the Aurora groaned open, its edges scraping against the jagged terrain. Astrid’s boots thudded onto the alien soil, sending up a puff of purple dust. Miles followed slowly, his eyes flicking around their surroundings.

"Stable ground," Astrid announced, her voice echoing slightly within the confines of her helmet. "Finally, after nineteen months! Atmosphere and temperature readings all within normal range. This planet might really be it."

"Could be warmer," said Miles. 

Astrid laughed, drinking in the silent panorama of undulating purple hills under a sky dotted with three tiny suns. She retracted her helmet and took a deep breath, the crisp air catching pleasurably in her throat. 

“This deserves a toast,” she said, swinging her loaded backpack onto the ground. It landed with a clang and Miles frowned.

“Careful with that, Captain.”

“Don’t worry, Miles. The embryos are safe in here.” She pulled out a slim platinum canister, perfectly smooth and cool, and waved it gently at him. “Ten thousand don’t take up much space, so ninety-nine percent of this is high-tech, triple-layered, thirty-first century bubble wrap filled with cryogel. It would survive a bomb blast, they actually tested for that.”

“I know. Can’t help it.”

Astrid’s voice softened. “This is the batch that contains two of yours. Of course you want the best for them. I never asked before, but did you give them names?”

“Yes,” said Miles. “Exactly the same names. James Cadenius Eden and Isabel Zyla Eden.”

“Did the cloning lab give you the extrapolative photos?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good. Close enough.” He looked into the distance. “Hopefully this planet is different enough.”

“I checked - it has zero history and undetectable probabilities of level-seven tectonic tsunamis.”

“Thanks, Cap. How about that toast?”

Astrid rummaged for her thermos, a battered thing of daffodil yellow, with pill-shaped figures dancing around the rim. Some of them were wearing denim pinafores. 

“What the hell are those things, Cap?”

“They’re called Minions,” Astrid said, smiling. “From a truly ancient movie, I can’t even remember what it was called. But they’re mad and bloody cute, and there’s some really good single malt inside. To James Cadenius and Isabel Zyla Eden.”

Suddenly there was a buzzing sound. Miles put down his cup and dropped into a protective crouch, gun already in hand. Astrid stuffed her thermos into her backpack and put a hand on the laser knife at her utility belt. 

"Protect the embryos," Miles hissed.

Out of nowhere, a shadow eclipsed the triple suns above them, casting a dark veil over the landscape. A massive figure hurtled towards them, crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact that reverberated through their boots.

Astrid's hazel eyes widened in shock at the creature before her - a hulking mass of sinew and muscle, covered in vomit-green skin and brown bristles. Its grotesque features were contorted in a fearsome snarl, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

Astrid and Miles ran, but the creature unleashed a weapon unlike anything they had ever seen. From its massive fist shot a glowing orb that pulsated with an ominous energy. Before they could react, the orb shot towards them with blinding speed, lengthening out into whipcords made of pure light that wrapped tightly all around them. Astrid and Miles strained against the luminous bonds, but the more they struggled, the tighter they were bound.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Astrid gasped.

To her surprise, the creature actually spoke. "I, Xoragzhar of Takuun," it said. "You have Origin. Give me."

“The origin? Of what?”

“He can’t mean the embryos, can he?” Miles whispered.

Xoragzhar heard and stepped closer, nodding. “Origin. Of N’uru. Give me now.”

Astrid studied Xoragzhar's face, a twisted visage with a bulbous nose, deep-set yellow eyes, and a wide mouth lined with teeth like broken tombstones. His breath came out in raspy huffs, fogging the air between them. 

Jagged, frantic, raspy huffs. She looked at the meaty stubbled hands. They were shaking.

Why?

"We can’t give you what you seek," Astrid replied in a firm and deliberate voice. "We are on a mission. We need to find a home for the last of our species. They are not yours to take."

She felt Miles flick a gaze at her. Then he said in a conversational tone, “How did you know about them? What are they the origin of?”

Well done, Miles, thought Astrid. Keep stalling. She inched her fingers toward her utility belt, feeling for the hilt of her knife. 

Xoragzhar stamped on the ground. “No time!” he roared. “Give me now!” He shook a hairy fist and the glowing whipcord tightened even more.

Astrid’s hand shot out from behind her, blazing orange from her laser knife. She slashed wildly. The crackling bonds fell away, dissipating into shimmering motes of energy. She heard Miles land on his feet and shouted, “Run!”

They sprinted across the rugged terrain, the alien landscape blurring into streaks of color. Astrid's heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline fueling her muscles as she pushed herself to keep pace with Miles. Xoragzhar’s heavy feet thundered behind them, growing closer with each passing moment.

As they weaved through a labyrinth of rock formations, the air started buzzing again. A sudden gust of wind whipped up a thick cloud of purple dust. Then it settled to reveal a glimmering figure. 

Astrid skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with the mysterious being. A vision of otherworldly grace and splendor, he even had translucent wings, fluttering like delicate petals in the breeze. She thought, this is the meaning of iridescence. Intricate patterns adorned his silvery skin, shimmering in the ambient light, like filigree. 

The being held up a long-fingered, gently coruscating hand. Behind them, Xoragzhar thunked against what seemed to be an invisible wall and fell with a grunt. Astrid found that if she looked very hard, she could just see the merest whisper of a gossamer web hanging in the air.

The being smiled. “You know what this means, Xoragzhar.” He turned his violet gaze towards Astrid and Miles. “Welcome, Dr Miles Eden and Captain Astrid Chang. My name is Za’raa. Welcome to N’urubia.”

Xoragzhar growled, “Takuun. This Takuun.”

“You know who we are?” said Miles, still staring.

“Yes, Dr Eden. We have known who you are for three hundred million years.”

What?

“We know you were searching for a new home, a sanctuary for your kind. We know you brought to us our Origin.”

“How?” Astrid demanded. “This mission is classified.”

“This mission was successful. You did it. You brought to this planet the Origin of my people, the N’uru.”

Xoragzhar spat.

“The Origin took root and blossomed. In the beginning there were only ten thousand of us. And then there were a hundred thousand. And then a billion, whose skin began silvering, whose wings began budding. And now, here we are,” said Za’raa, opening his arms wide. 

Astrid blinked. “Are you saying that you’re descended fro— no, that you’re from the futur— oh my God, that you mutated—”

“Yes, Captain Chang, and yes, and yes, though we prefer the word ‘evolved’. And Dr Eden - may I call you Miles? - I thought you might like to know, there are fourteen families among the N’uru named Eden, all healthy and thriving. Your children had good genes.”

Miles’ eyes blazed hard enough to power a city. “I want to see them.”

“Perhaps you will,” Za’raa said with a smile.

“How will you do that?” asked a perplexed Astrid. “How are you here? And how are you here now?”

“We have Xoragzhar’s people to thank. They spent generations building a time machine. All that time and energy that could have gone into building armies, multiplying themselves, even learning how to speak properly… no, they decided this machine was more important. And this is their big day. They used it for the first time today.”

“To bring the Aurora here?”

“No, child, you would have come here anyway. The machine was for bringing Xoragzhar here, three hundred million years into his past. And me too,” Za’raa added brightly, “although it wasn’t what they planned. Now, ask me why.” 

“Uh-huh?”

Za’raa leaned in to look Astrid in the eye. “To destroy the embryos.”

Astrid whirled around to glare at Xoragzhar. “What? Why?”

Xoragzhar said, “N’uru, they take. Take and take and take. Food, air, water. But they say, not enough. Never enough. Then they say, too many Takuun. They say, kill Takuun.”

Za’raa shrugged his slender elegant shoulders. “The primitive have to evolve, or die. I believe you would call it a zero-sum game.” He stretched out a hand to Astrid. “Now please give me the Origin.”

Astrid ignored the hand. “Xoragzhar, what happened to your people? How many are there left?”

Unhappy yellow eyes met her own. “Only five, and me.”

Za’raa said, “Before you ask, the five were guarding the time machine. Against us. Well, there are only four left now. Possibly less.” He grinned at Xoragzhar. “I did bring a dozen of my best warriors with me.”

Astrid stumbled backward toward Xoragzhar, keeping her backpack as far as she could from Za’raa. “No. I can’t let this happen. I can’t create a population of goddamn murderers.” 

Something went click. Astrid froze. Miles was pointing his gun at her.

“My children. Get. To live,” he said in a low, dangerous voice she’d never heard from him before.

“Miles…”

“Take out the embryos and give them to Za’raa.”

“No bloody way.”

A now-familiar buzzing sound filled the air for the third time. Za'raa said, his expression serene, “Ah, a little more… encouragement has arrived for Captain Chang.” 

A dozen armed N'uru shimmered out of thin air. Their silver armour was battered and scratched, and there was blood in their golden hair and on their beautiful faces and filigreed hands, but their eyes glowed with triumph. A cold finger ran down Astrid’s spine.

“Did you get them all?” inquired Za’raa mildly.

“Yes, sir.”

Xoragzhar's howl echoed through the clearing, raising all the hairs on Astrid's arms. A glowing orb appeared in each of his fists and stretched out into scythes. He hacked at the gossamer wall in front of him. The N’uru guards drew their weapons - spiked flails that glowed also - and marched toward him.

Miles watched them advance, rapt.

“Captain Chang,” said Za’raa, “there really are no more reasons not to give me the embryos. Once Xoragzhar is dead, which will be in about five minutes, there will be no more Takuun left to save.”

Astrid dropped her head. She knelt and shrugged off her backpack, undid it with trembling fingers. She rummaged until her hand closed around the cold metal cylinder it sought. Averting her eyes, she held the cylinder up to Za’raa. 

“Excellent. Thank you, Captain Chang. And now we can close the book on Takuun history.”

The N'uru warriors closed in on Xoragzhar and his swinging scythes, their movements coordinated and decisive. White light flashed wherever their flails landed. Miles cheered them on. In the strobing light, his skin appeared silvery too.

Astrid closed her backpack and swung it back on her shoulders. She turned toward the Aurora. Walk, don’t run, she told herself firmly. 

She heard Miles say, “Za’raa, she’s getting away.”

She heard Za’raa say, “It does not matter, Miles.” 

She swung herself up into the Aurora and shoved the hatch shut, making straight for the control panel. Her fingers jittered over the familiar buttons and switches. The console flickered to life, casting an green glow across her strained face. The Aurora began rising. Outside, Xoragzhar was losing. Dying.

She met Miles’ gaze through the window, his silhouette stark against the alien landscape. He turned his back on her and walked to Za’raa. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they cast one shadow under the light of the triple suns. Za’raa was still clutching the metal cylinder in both hands.

The battered, daffodil yellow, metal cylinder with the mad dancing Minions. 

Miles saw it too. He snatched the thermos from Za’raa and began running towards the Aurora, shouting. As if it would help. He was only getting smaller and smaller. Then the N’uru warriors began to flicker like candle flames in a gust of wind. One by one, they vanished into thin air, leaving behind a faint trace of silver dust that glittered briefly and turned into nothing.

Za’raa was the last to vanish, his face too small for Astrid to see his expression. Good.

Miles was tiny now. She saw Xoragzhar rise painfully to his feet. She was just able to see the orbs in his hands flare as he lurched toward Miles.

When the Aurora was on autopilot, she picked up the platinum canister of embryos, tracing with steady fingers where the chilly light glinted off its perfect skin. She would find another planet that did not have purple soil or three goddamn suns, and most certainly not angry trolls or smarmy glowing angels who made far too many assumptions. 

She hoped that would be enough.