“The Painful Dynasty was...” Laandi glanced at her hand, “Is, a tragedy I wish I could spare you the knowledge of, but it if you are going to be stepping onto the galactic stage then it is imperative that you are informed.”

The Director reached for her dataslate, and brought up the history logs. The lights dimmed in the large boardroom as the images transferred onto the holo-display on the table. Laandi focused the hologram on the center of the map, every planet was alive and bustling with activity. Jasmine gasped as dozens of star systems filled the floating image. Rising from her stool to admire the technology, she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch it.

“It’s beautiful.” Jasmine whispered, awed. While the power of Jasmine’s Freq was chaotic at best, Xant could not deny the highs were just as powerful as the lows. A joy and gentleness, a weightlessness swelled in his chest, a sensation of wonder he had not felt since he was a youngling. He knew however that it was not to last and steeled himself against an unknown reaction.

“This was the Galactic Space at the end of the ‘Prosperity Dynasty’,” Laandi announced, a solemness in her presentation. “And this…” the Director shifted the image to one that was desolate, one or two planets in a star system had lights and not even to the brightness of Jasmine’s own Earth. It was so empty. “Is the Galactic Council Space today, barely 100 billion souls now stand where 4 trillion once lived.”

The numbers made Jasmine feel numb, there were only 7 billion Humans on Earth, how could she even comprehend the weight of 4 trillion dead? The Human turned to Laandi, her voice soft, sympathetic. “How? How could you lose so many?”

“It was the karmic reward for our efforts.” Laandi rose from her desk, reciting the mantra of Karmic balance. “The Universe is a continuous balancing act. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction; we are rewarded for our active works, and punished for our idleness…”

Laandi found her place beside Xant, the dataslate in her hand as she started the archive document. The program detected the inflection in her voice and changed the holographic display accordingly, photographic planets and ships ran their routes like clockwork, precise and orderly. “The Galactic Council had spent thousands of years engineering the perfect society, bodies and mind molded to their tasks to such an efficiency their rule was never questioned. The Qzetillian elite became obsessed with this perfect efficiency, obsessed with obtaining the perfect balance. Producing their successors to be ever more effective at governing the expanding civilization. They began removing ‘unnecessary’ biological appendages, different coloured skins, fins, legs, arms, then they started removing organs, veins, nerves. So the Qzetillian governing class transformed from their Heavens Dynasty forms-”

An image of an aquatic, amphibian-like people graced the projector. Pale blue skin, speckled in places, short tails, fins on forearms and legs. With smooth oval heads of every shape and size.

“To what we now designate as the ‘Original Strain’ Qzetillia, the Rajava.” Upon the mention of the Rajava’s name the hologram shifted to reflect the command and Jasmine swallowed a scream. The Qzetillia had engineered themselves to be nothing more than grotesque heads, grey, sickly and covered in veins. Mouths gone, organic limbs replaced with mechanical ones, like engorged, malformed ticks. These were the monsters who had ripped her from her friends, her home, her life.

“The galaxy was living in a time of untold prosperity, so no one questioned the transformation, until we encountered the Zenthi…”

The holo-display thankfully shifted once more, to biological records of the Zenthi. Several different body types laid out before the human’s eyes, she picked out Xant’s build, second from the right, he really had been designed.

“They were welcomed into the fold as Modifiers but ascended to Creator status when they designed a translator that didn’t just convert speech but the very intention of your words. It was a revelation to the hundreds of species living in coexistence, new ideas sprouted, communities flourished, but-” Laandi’s voice lowered with despair “-The ruling class felt nothing, they had become little more than organic machines, built to control the flow of productivity. They decided these new ideas were... disrupting that flow.”

A planet came into focus, almost at the centre of the map, covered entirely by city lights in hexagonal patterns. Rings of satellites encircled the planet, ships flew in constant streams to and fro, a crown jewel of civilisation.

“Clentesia, the central hub of the entire galaxy, where it all began. The ideas of living outside your designation, to be more than your productive worth, to follow the One and care for others around you, lead to a cease in productivity. The Rajava, the ruling ones, deliberated, and decided the best course of action was to eradicate those who refused to follow the directive and recycle their matter into those who would. The Rajava released a pathogen into the air of a population who had never encountered disease. 38 billion gone in a single rotation, Genecenters replaced the living populace the with the unthinking vessels they designed.”

Laandi let the statement hang in the air, allowing Jasmine a moment to breath.

“The people refused to work so they recycled them?!” Her voice cracked, almost as if she were in pain at the very thought of it.

The human was once again giving out the noxious waves, Rynard had crept out from the back wall to watch the light show, and to ensure Jasmine didn’t become any more agitated; he still had a job to do after all.

“It was their way,” Laandi was quick to shift the image from Centesia back to the galaxy map. “Those who did not follow the directive would have their very makeup stripped and re-purposed into something new. The Rajava of Clentesia thought this was for the betterment of the universe, so they began to implement it on every planet.”

Jasmine watched in horror as one by one planets went dark, only for the lights to return with the same hexagonal pattern as Clentesia.

“A few brave geneticists fought back, designing embryos that were immune and other viruses to counteract the eradication plague. The galaxy became embedded in a war between those who felt and those who did not.” One by one the great collection of city-planets fell dark, and ships from the outlining world’s descended upon the central cluster.

“The new council, formed of the worlds beyond the central hub, destroyed what the Rajava revered most, the means of production,”

Ships, as big and grand as any sci-fi flagship hovered in orbit, burning the surface.

Glassing the hexagonal lit planets.

“And in kind, the Rajava destroyed what we held dear. Our lives. Genomes sabotaged, weapons created to cause pain. A never ending arms race to be the most resilient and destructive. Plasma cannons, neuronal degenerative diseases, warrior-class Sulin and Zenthi became brutal killing machines-” Another image flashed on screen, one the spitting image of Captain Rynard and the other a twisted manifestation of Xant. A Zenthi with arms big enough to crush cars, ears turned into horns, feet with talons, a demon and a dinosaur standing side by side.

The human’s arms fell to her sides, her jaw fell open and her eyes wide. The pulses fell silent, replaced with an ever increasing coldness. Xant was frozen in place, his fingers going numb.

“Years and years of fighting to survive, no one escaped the Rajava’s systematic cleansing of the galaxy. We lost the longevity of our predecessors, we lost many planets, species, our ranks dwindled to a mere twenty thousand ships.”

Laandi glanced up at the wall behind Rynard, 11 slates hung on the wall, four at the top, six in the middle, two on the bottom row, each frame held a different style of alphabet. A tribute to the original surviving Creator, Modifier and User species.

“We were but 11 left from hundreds, fighting a losing war against an uncaring machine and pushed to the edge of unknown space. If not for an unexpected meeting with an Arvas explorer ship, civilization as we know it would have ended there. The Arvas were our salvation, an empire of spacefaring warriors who used their very emotions as weapons. They could command armies of thousands and would die in the millions for their sovereigns, and they were on our side.”

The galaxy map became overrun with the tiny lights. The Rajava unable to overcome the sheer numbers of the Arvas forces.

“But even with this miracle, the universe had one last cruelty to bestow upon us. The Rajava had deleted the entire system's data of everything that wasn’t them. The DNA of a hundred different sentients had been lost forever.”

“Even with the addition of the Arvas genomic library, we have less than 20,000 stable genome scripts, and only 15% of those are capable of accepting new mutagen-” Laandi stopped, not because she was finished, but because it felt as though her chest would collapse in on itself. Tight and hollow, her body being pulled into nothingness. It was oppressive, hopeless, Laandi felt her hands begin to tremble, her head snapped to Xant, the Zenthi’s hands were shaking as well. The human stood there, her fists clenched, eyes wide and glazed, focused on the hologram. Xant’s throat ran dry, he wanted to reach out to Jasmine, to speak up, but he felt he would collapse if he did.

“(Rynard...)” Jasmine’s inner voice was barely above a whisper, “(Get out,)” she pleaded “(Get everyone to safety... )”.

The Captain did not need to be told twice, he bounded across the room, scooping up the Director and the doctor in each claw.

“OPEN!” he roared toward the door, which slid open with emergency speed, allowing Rynard to evacuate with his fragile cohorts. “CLOSE! LOCKDOWN!” He ordered the door, it slammed shut, its hydraulics locking the door without the usual charm. But they were not safe yet, Rynard ran down the hall, not even slowing down until he could feel the Zenthi in his arms begin to protest.

“Captain! Stop!” Xant demanded, “Your velocity!-”

“Not until we get to the elevator Doc!” Rynard snapped, bouncing with every high-powered step. He skidded to a halt at the end of the hall, dropping his co-workers at the door. Xant stumbled to his feet, his ears on end and hands still unable to keep still.

“What was that?...” Xant asked, trying to steady himself.

“Freq-bomb,” Rynard answered simply, “and not the usual ‘blinding rage’ bomb either-”

“BARK!BARK!(RUN! GOOD RUN!)” Kimiko announced her presence to the aliens, panting as she sat down, completely oblivious to the panic around her.

Xant reached into his pocket and pulled out the vial of depressors he had picked up from the Medical wing. Laandi was shaking even more than himself; she was quiet and trembling, but at least she was standing. She would need the first shot.

“We should go to Medical,” Xant advised, readying the does with unconscious ease, “It could be a matter of permanent damage if we stay here-”

And then they heard it.

Faintly, but unmistakably through the walls.

Jasmine was screaming, a sound so chilling it was as though she were dying. Xant’s hands dropped the pen and medication.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he felt like his heart and face were on fire.

Rynard, too, weathered the cascade of a pulse so strong he felt as though he were standing next to a Prince’s battle cry.

Kimiko and Xant’s ears both flattened on their head. The dog backed away, trying to make herself small.

‘(No…)’ Kimiko’s inner voice whispered on the Zenthi Frequency, ‘(Not that Howl…)’

‘(Friend,)’ Xant asked, lowering himself as Jasmine had done all those days ago. ‘(Why does the Namegiver howl?)’

‘(Sadness, great sadness, pain… The long sleep.)’ Kimiko laid down on the ground, trying to curl up into herself. ‘(Grandpa…)’

-*-

The Howl.

Namegivers don’t howl. They chirp like birds. Many words for many things.

Nice sounds, happy sounds, laughter. Even in angry shouts they still chirp.

It had been a long time since Spades had heard it.

But he knew that sound.

He had heard it many times in the bad sand.

‘(Sei nicht traurig…)’ Friend Sieglinde tried to help Namegiver Jasmine. She nudged and licked the Namegiver’s face but she was only pushed away. Sieglinde didn’t know the Howl. ‘(Freund Spades! Namegeber Jasmine traurig… Wie kann ich helfen?)’ she asked him.

He could not tell her.

He had to show her what to do.

Spades laid down beside Jasmine. He did not get in her face. He did not bark or whine. He would wait for Namegiver Jasmine to come to him.

She Howled again. That long, drawn out cry that made her body shudder. That made her face red. That made it hard to breathe.

Spades waited. Sieglinde waited too. Namegiver Jasmine was collapsed over the white stool.

They waited a long time. But the Howl stopped. And then she just whimpered. Spades put his head in her lap. The Namegiver’s hand was slow and heavy. But she petted him.

“(I’m sorry)” The Namegiver spoke without her voice. “(I didn’t mean to scare you...)” Spades nudged her. Namegiver Jasmine stroked his head. “(They’re gone… Katy, Chamkov, Warren… they didn’t deserve that.)” She hid her face, but her voice still spoke. “(I’m sorry Spades, Sigi, I don’t think I can get you back. I don’t think Oskar and Beau...)” Jasmine began to cry again.

‘(Oskar?! Namegeber Jasmine traurig wegen Oskar?!)’ Sieglinde began to panic.

Spades didn’t answer her.

He knew now why the Namegiver Howled.

Beau was gone.

Beau. His partner. Friend. Namegiver.

Beau was gone.

When a Namegiver Howls, a friend is gone and never comes back.

You never forget the Howl.