Screaming. Flashes of light.

Grunts and the screech of metal tearing.

Her body being carried. Children laughing gaily.

Aria roused back to consciousness. She slowly allowed her eyelids to part. Vision was blurry, but she could make out a tan ceiling. Mossy and umber earth tones to her left and right. These were Quillian colors. Her greatest nightmare was occurring. She had been captured!

“Hansel!” She jounced from the bed and leapt onto her bare feet. To her horror, a cool breeze made her realize she was naked. Completely vulnerable, still awash in a foggy haze, and without her only other human compatriot. She stretched out her arms and haphazardly stumbled around her cell in search of anything of use.

“Hansel? Hansel! Are you there? Are you here with me?” She yelped when her shin collided with a piece of furniture. She reached below and rested her palms upon cool, human flesh.

“Is that you?” She ran her palms up the abdomen, past the smooth chest, and across his face. The bridge of his nose, those bushy eyebrows, and his thin, soft lips convinced her this was indeed her Terran partner.

His slow breathing graced her fingertips.

Grunts from somewhere nearby drew her attention toward a wavering light. Her still blurry vision could not make anything more out. Footsteps shuffled into the cell.

“Who’s there? Speak! Identify yourselves! My name is Aria Grey Pantel, Lieutenant of the starship Century and soldier of the Terran Federation. I demand rightful treatment under the Galactic War Powers Act of ‘23.”

If she was still alive, then they were adhering to at least some of the regulations of the old war. Whoever was there stood near. A shadow cast over them. Aria threw herself onto Hansel’s body.

“Leave him alone! He’s a civilian, not a soldier!”

A gargantuan hand pulled her off of him and dragged her across the room. She wailed and struggled to no avail, but her recovering vision began to make out the silhouettes of several figures in the room. She squeezed her temples when a sudden headache struck momentarily. She was tossed like a child onto her bed with an unpleasant landing. Were her captors cruel or just not sensitive to her gentle frame?

She blinked until her bare legs came into clear view. Her body was covered in grass patches adhered to her skin with the medicinal salve of Chron’s people. She was not imprisoned within a Quillian encampment but inside a hut of the native people.

Three beautifully decorated native women and men hunched carefully over Hansel. They were treating his wounds with their medicinal salves. He was naked like her. She turned away, afraid he would notice her staring, but realized he was unconscious. She let herself take in a quick peek of his manhood. Unaroused, it was still an instrument of respect.

At her side, she noticed Chron standing and observing the practitioner’s work as well. Keenly aware of her nudity once again, she lifted an animal hide underneath her and draped it over her body. Chron turned to her and contorted his face in what she could only describe as a feeble attempt to smile. She supposed there were not a lot of reasons to practice smiling in a hostile, undeveloped world.

“Chron! I...I…don’t look!”

She felt so embarrassed. But perhaps she was the only one worrying about her circumstantial immodesty. His people barely made use of clothing and only for the most practical of reasons. She was not ready to start wrapping her chest and lap with a thin linen just yet, but she decided to let the hide slip down just enough so as to not boil alive in the hot air. Maybe it was her cleavage rising and falling like the tide or her exhausted, filthy state that made her look more native than before, but she noticed Chron’s loincloth perking up.

This ignited a forbidden war inside her heart, one that she thought she had quelled. She met this palpitation in her chest with contempt. Doc assured her she was freed from the chains of escapism lust. Now a flagpole flying at half staff was pulling her back in. Yet, were things now different?

Based on her hazy recollection of the destruction up above, she was stranded on an alien planet with almost certainly zero chance of rescue. All her plans, her career, her future were now a thing of the past. This indication of attraction was not something she was gravitating toward out of distraction, but out of pure sexual interest. She no longer sought to forget her troubles in the embrace of an object, but in the arms of a partner. Yes, this was very different.

She almost dared to reach her hand out and make lovely first contact with the excited probe, but Chron acted first. His complete indifference flushed the lust from her loins.

“Hmph,” he huffed. He waved for her to follow as he headed for the tent’s entrance.

Aria spotted a pile of native clothing piled for her at the foot of the bed. She dressed herself, essentially swimming in what she surmised were children's clothing, and proceeded toward the entrance. She turned back one last time toward Hansel’s unconscious body. He was being taken care of. These people meant him no harm.

Following Chron outside the hut, the smoking wreckage of their shuttle on the outskirts of the settlement drew her attention. She was lucky they had landed so close to Chron’s tribe. The shuttle’s powerful reactor would soon overheat and explode. She examined the settlement and its inhabitants. Men, women, and children moved freely with tools and goods in their hands. There was an organization, a method to the madness that their field reports had not picked up upon before.

Simple leather canopies casting life-saving shade upon the settlement had obscured most of the details of their daily lives from their orbital cameras. It appeared that the center of this community was separated into three distinct sections. Residential homes resided in one, cooking and food storage in another, and ritualistic monuments inside the third. Many complex buildings spanned out from the middle of town. Markets, an artificial watering hole, and even a cemetery granted this primeval habitat a higher level of civilization than previously classified.

It appeared that their stunted ability to communicate exactly as modern Terrans had not curtailed their ability to coordinate a livable colony. Now dressed just like the natives, Aria realized that their clothing choice was much more than comfortable. It was a necessity given the intense heat and humidity wafting in from the neighboring jungle. Her crew incorrectly assessed these people to be simple, unevolved creatures. She felt a wave of validation wash over her, although even she could not have predicted the subtle complexity of their civilization. Proto-humans of planet 748-B were highly adaptable masters of their environment just like all Terrans of the galaxy.

A rumbling from the jungle shattered the fantasy that her old life was completely behind her. From above the dense canopy, dozens of Quillian ships swooped into the trees near the smoke pillar. The Quillians still existed and perhaps now more than before threatened these primitive people. In addition, she and Hansel’s lives too were at risk if she failed to act.

Aria waved until she captured Chron’s attention. She hysterically pointed to objects around them and used her fingers to form symbols in an effort to convey her concerns. “Green. People. Like us. But scary! Weapons. Pow, pow! You see?”

Chron scratched his head. He pointed toward her smoldering shuttle.

“No. Not my pow, pow. Bad pow, pow. Tall ones. With guns. Green skin.” She folded back her sleeve and ran her fingers up and down her arm. “Green. Like grass.” She yanked a tuft out of the ground and smeared it on her skin. “Green. Green skin. Not safe. You see?”

He gazed upon the horizon and then nodded toward the growing plume of black smoke billowing out from the canopy. Whatever that Quillian was doing, they were ramping it up.

“Yes! That is danger!” She alternated between feigning choking herself and pointing at the smoke.

Chron crouched and balled up his fists. He seemed agitated. His massive fingers pointed repeatedly at the smoke as he pounded his chest. Others noticed and began to react similarly as well.

Aria was thankful she was able to communicate the Quillian threat, but what exactly to do about it had not yet come to mind.

She slipped back inside the hut and hastily pushed her way past the healers. “Hey! Hansel,” she said as she tapped his face.” Wake up. Open your eyes, buddy.”

He groaned and rolled away from her.

She shook his naked body violently. “Get up! We’re in trouble!”

The healers grumbled and gently pulled her off of him.

“No! Let go of me! He has to wake up!”

Hansel rolled back. His eyes slightly parted. “Aria? Is that you?”

“Yes, you sleepy fool!” She wriggled out of the healer's grasp. Kneeling at his bedside, she placed a gentle hand on his forehead. “You feel fine to me. Are you well?”

“I think so.” Hansel ran his fingers over the plant patches covering his body. “Should I be concerned about these? Oh no! I’m naked!”

“Quit squirming for a second!”

Aria carefully peeled the patches off and handed them to the observing healers. The leaves near his groin were a little more tricky. Without bumping into his crotch, she parted the final patches of sticky residue from his skin.

“There. Can you get on your feet?”

Hansel covered his groin and sat up at the side of the bed. “Despite my confusion of all of this, I feel like a million credits. Whatever is in those plants, I must have a sample to take back with me. Would you be a darling and bottle one up...”

“No time.” Aria threw a pair of native clothing onto his face. “The Quillians are up to no good and we’re running out of time.”

Hansel slipped into the garments and followed her out of the hut. “So, what’s the plan? Is the shuttle in good enough shape for us to get back up to the Century and…” The sight of the burning shuttle jostled him. “Never mind. We’re dead. We’re just dead. This is where I die.”

Aria’s face lit up. “Wait, that’s it! A shuttle!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, that’s our shuttle that I’m fairly confident is going to melt down any minute now! Oh god. Should we get farther away? Is the reactor going to blow this entire settlement? Wait. Don’t they have safety measures to prevent that? My engineering is a little basic.”

Aria ignored him and instead began carving a diagram into the dirt with a stone.

“What are you drawing?”

She pointed at a circle in the center. “This is the settlement. This long line to the east is the edge of the jungle. I’m guessing the Quillian camp is this little square here.”

He pulled at his hair. “You want to go back there? We barely made it out alive without being shot at, sliced to pieces, or eaten by the wildlife!”

“Valid, but this time will be different.” She pointed toward the rising smoke. “You see that?”

“Is that a forest fire?”

“No. That’s a Quillian mining operation preparing for full scale harvesting. I’m sure we’ll find long-haul cargo class vessels that’ll get us back to Federation space.”

“And leave your primitive friends behind to be destroyed?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Once we bring back word of the Quillina’s return, the military will be all over this star system.”

“Okay...but how are we going to get through the razorweed, navigate the jungle and commandeer a craft without supplies? I may not be a soldier, but I’ve picked up a thing or two from watching you and I can tell that seems like an impossible task.”

She patted his back and reentered the hut in search of her field gear and backpack. She looked under the beds, around the cloth walls, and tried her best to pantomime with the healers with no success. From the looks of the wreckage, nothing still left inside the shuttle was likely usable.

“Damn it,” she said as she rejoined Hansel. “It looks like we’re out of weapons, hazard suits, and datapads. I hadn’t anticipated that. Do you have any ideas?”

“Maybe I could put together a plan. I would need some data concerning the capabilities of our friends here and their little village.” Hansel began mumbling to himself. “Although, it’s not like these creatures exactly understand the complexities of combat.”

Aria slapped him on the back of the head. “Did I just hear you still refer to these people as creatures? The very humans who extracted you from a blazing shuttle, healed your wounds, and built the very stable community you and I now stand in the center of?”

“I...well, you see…”

She stomped in a circle around him. “I don’t want to hear it! Look around you! These people are clearly advanced past the E1 designation we labeled them with. They understand much more than you, or anyone up top, give them credit for. I’m still not sure exactly how they did it, but I do know you can ask them things and they’ll understand. These people are advanced!”

Chron approached them scratching his jiggling loincloth in full view.

She rolled her eyes. “Advanced enough, that is.”

“Okay,” Hansel said. He took the rock from Aria and began drawing in the dirt. “Let me rethink this then. If I factor in their E1 status…”

Aria shot him another disapproving look. “We now know they’re way past that.”

“Okay, okay! Maybe we’ll do them a favor and classify them as an E2 civilization. Now, if I take into account the organizational capacity and resource utilization influence of that type of society, that should put them within the capability of understanding some pretty basic combat tactics. Colony C-19 in the Maldrid system did demonstrate a higher-than average replication study where primitive beings were able to…”

“Can you get out of your head and explain what it is you’re trying to get at?”

“Right. Little time.” He drew several geometric shapes. “These creatures...I-I mean people should be able to comprehend ancient Roman-style marching orders. We should assume they know how to navigate the razorweed since we’ve seen other tribes coming through the jungle to intimidate this one. Finally, anyone can understand making their way to a waypoint, especially one as tall as a smoke trail.”

“Great. Sounds great. I don’t know any of the research you were citing, but if you think this will work, then let’s get Chron and his soldiers together and explain the plan.”

“Hey, I just came up with the overarching idea. I don’t actually know how to teach or execute any of this military stuff. Do you?”

She smiled with glee. “I’m going to show you what being top in our class really means.”

“We took very different classes, Aria!” he said with a playful shrug. “Don’t make this out to be some objective representation of your smarts!” He tossed the stone and sighed. “This is a good plan, but I worry we’re about to ask a whole lot from people that have no idea what we’re all about. What makes you think they’re going to commit their resources just to get us to a scary, flying metal monster surrounded by god-like threats that could melt their faces off if they’d want to?”

“Because this is their planet. They have the Terran spirit in their bodies. We fight for what is ours.”

Hansel nodded. “Convincing enough, I suppose.”

Aria and Hansel slowly communicated with Chron and his small group of trusted confidants about the dangers of the extraterrestrial monsters in the jungle. They spared no detail illustrating the gruesome way they could die either by pistol beam, planetary bombardment from space, or asphyxiation from their loss of atmosphere. While many of these concepts probably made no sense to them, she believed that they understood any encounter with the Quillians could lead to an individual’s death, but leaving the invaders to their devices would result in absolute destruction.

As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Aria stood in front of forty-five hulking soldiers of the settlement. There was no such thing as diplomatic relations with the surrounding tribes so this was going to be as many as she could muster.

These odds reminded her of the conflict aboard the Discovery in which her old captain, the legendary Morena Jerprudence, was able to command a fractured crew and ship to victory. However, she had the Federation’s greatest technology at her back. Aria would need to discover what, if any, advantage her imposing ground team had before it was too late.

Chron stood beside her, towering over and making her look like a child. However, he did not treat her like one. He was a strong and wise leader and could see experience and leadership when it stood in front of him. Once Aria began to walk toward the treeline, he waved his soldiers forward toward the jungle rattling their varied weapons as they neared.

The commotion drew the panther predators out of hiding. Several large beasts stalked toward the party with delighted curiosity. Salivating exuberance turned to horror as the warriors encircled the beasts in an open field that was much more strategic for them than the animals.

One by one, each panther fell and their bodies were quickly attended to by a trailing group of civilians. Hansel had suggested this formation incorporating a rear scavenging team so no resource went to waste after the conflict. He was confident that there would be many deaths among Chron’s people and they would need any rare or prized materials they could claim to still compete against their neighbors as a result of this brave, if albeit stupid, sacrifice.

They marched to the edge of the jungle. The razorweed whipped with anticipation in their direction. To Aria’s surprise, Chron paid no mind to the blades as they slashed and whipped at his thick leg trunks. Perhaps he and his people that followed were as bothered by the cuts as she was by a bloodsucking insect, but regardless Aria and Hansel were accommodated by Chron who turned back and picked them up as soon as he realized they were not wading in as well. Aria was placed on one shoulder and Hansel on the other.

“Woah!” Hansel chuckled as he steadied himself. “Okay. Riding on a giant is really cool. I take back every mean thing I ever said about Chron.”

Aria smirked. “Yes, this is very cool!”

The smoke column was still visible in the sky. She kept herself alert as they drew near to the river. A roaring ship soared overhead and landed nearby. The soldiers crouched and cowered for a moment until Chron roared with ferocity. They stood with renewed confidence and began marching again.

Chron finally lowered Aria and Hansel on the edge of the jungle within view of the Quillian machines and crew of the quarry. Just as she expected, heavy machinery and living pods were being brought to this location in preparation for a long campaign of planetary storage. Further surveying the battlefield, a pair of fighter craft parked next to the shuttles surprised her. If the Quillians had successfully destroyed the Century, then what need would there be for armed escorts to the surface? Did the Century still fly and pose a threat to the Quillians?

“Hey, there’s a cargo shuttle, I think.” Hansel pointed to a rectangular craft on the farthest edge of the outpost. “I’m not exactly sure. I don’t know anything about Quillian engineering but it does have those little crates on the back. I don’t see any blasters either.”

“I think you’re right,” Aria said. “We bolt toward it as soon as the battle ramps up.” She noticed Chron hovering patiently just behind her. She pointed toward a mining drill for him. He was instructed to destroy her targets at all cost. He then pointed for his soldiers to spread out along the treeline just as Aria had taught him.

Even though they were supposed to wait for Aria’s signal, Chron’s soldiers suddenly charged out of the bush and surprised the Quillians. This deviation worried her, but maybe she did not fully understand the benefits of their blitzkrieg strategy. It proved successful.

Many of the Quillian soldiers had no time to aim their far-advanced weapons while the giant’s long strides leapt over the river in an instant. When arrows proved useless against the Quillian armor, massive strikes from primitive clubs and spears still hemorrhaged their internals just fine. The Quillians on the outskirts gained their bearings and began firing at Chon’s people. Their pistols were moderately, but not completely, effective.

Aria gasped when Chron himself became the receiver of several direct hits from defenders of the drill. Sizzling wounds failed to prove mortal as his dense, alien muscle absorbed most of the energy. He swung his stone axe and swept up five Quillians in one fell swoop. His enormous, calloused hands dug underneath the drill and slowly tipped it back and forth. The towering machine careened into the waterfall. Jagged diamond rocks at the base of the pool dissected it into pieces.

“Let’s go now!”

Aria grabbed Hansel’s hand. They sprinted along the coast and waded carefully into the river.

“Should we be stepping into liquid mercury in our bare legs?” he cried.

“It’ll be quick!”

They dashed out onto the other bank. Aria slapped the shuttle’s hull frantically until a door opened. She pulled herself inside and helped Hansel up. Once the door closed, the cabin was devoid of light.

“Let me just see if I can…” She ran her hand across the wall.

Lights came on. Hansel sat in the co-pilot seat and stared in disbelief at the control console before them. It had floating orbs and protruding doodads.

“Holy high heaven! How do you even operate this thing?”

“No clue, but I’m going to fake it until we make it.” She carefully toggled each switch to reveal their effect. With the spin of an orb, the starport shade retracted and gave them a view of the outside. A small tube extended from the tip of the ship and fired a steady, red mining laser that cut through rock and metal. A little experimenting and she was able to direct the beam through several Quillians.

“I think you’ve helped enough,” Hansel said. “Chron really seems to have this covered. Now how do we fly...oh!”

The shuttle jostled and lifted off slowly. Quillians below peppered the side with weapon fire, but the hull was too armored to be bothered.

Hansel pointed amused out the window. “Look at all those silly greenskins! They’re getting so distracted by us that Chron’s people are absolutely tearing apart the rest of their camp.”

As they pulled away, Aria took one last look at Chron who was swinging a Quillian like a mace. He was a big, strong boy for sure, but he was not her strong boy.

They blasted off through the atmosphere and entered space. Aria welled up into tears at the sight of the Century still intact. It stood firmly behind the majestic Millennium, a Terran battleship, assaulting the Quillian battlecruiser. She pressed a button she believed was the radio and broadcasted to the Century and Millennium.

“This is Lieutenant Aria Pantel. I’ve commandeered a Quillian cargo ship from the surface and am requesting an escort to the Century.”

“Aria, you son of a gun,” the voice of Captain Tensicola reassuringly replied. “We read you loud and clear, Lieutenant. The Millennium is sending a squadron to walk you home.”