She watched the crowd shift endlessly around her once she propped herself against the concrete walls of a storefront.
Her cerulean eyes scanned the various inhabitants from a Kathari parent leading his 5 kits through the horde of bodies while holding hands, a frantic Terran dock worker running and dodging past others to return to his station with food still in his mouth, or a Nexorian arguing with someone on comms. Kazia heard the unintelligible chattering of children about various topics simultaneously, the smell of seasoned meat from a distant that made her stomach growl, and several swears that caused her eyebrows to raise knowing someone was getting an earful.
Mission City was a settlement and a rather popular spaceport used as a trading nexus for the galactic communities. Considered a part of neutral space, many races roamed, traveled through, and lived within it. From a distance, she heard drones overhead, maintaining the city delivering cargo via repulser lifts, servos whirring and their communicators buzzing and beeping.
It was so different from the constant blaster fire, the explosion of shrapnel, screaming, orders being shouted over comms, bloodcurdling final deaths, chittering clacking of mandibles, and warning klaxons blaring throughout. Now there was nothing, but people going about their lives, and the hum of machines creating a stable environment; constant, yet simplistic. There was a rush in their movements, but not for their lives, just to simply get from one place to another. No gunfire, no blast scorches, the operational and intact infrastructure.
Kazia reached for her left lucra, the hollow boned tendrils, stroking them in deep thought and for equal comfort. Her fingers ran along the heavy band of metal that clamped around their midsections, glowing with an inner green light. She remembered the tests from earlier, determining her capabilities as a so/called Myst user, which registered her as a strong entity and in need of inhibitors for the duration of the coming trial. Was this the peace she had fought for?
“Number 159, please come to the desk.”
An announcement alerted nearby, the number clicking in Kazia’s ears that made her finally move. The number belonged to her, assigning her place in the line that took a few hours to reach her position, or in this case, took a few hours to process her request. She pivoted from the wall and made her way inside the Department of Colonial Affairs, where a lobby of 3 others were also waiting for their number to be called on, with a 4th being Lucian, who slept in the corner.
She strode past him, her head turning to keep him in her line of sight for a moment longer. Her eyes scanned him for any disturbance when she last left him there to rest after his extensive volunteer aid at the city’s clinic.
Up front, was a window fitting in the center, and two doors positioned to the left and right of the waiting area. Kazia approached the window where an older Baragaan woman with pale green scales under a simple blue dress was typing away on her terminal, sitting facing away from her clients. She double checked herself, looking down at her red cropped jacket, a black halter bodysuit where the lower half was covered by a pair of cargo pants and combat boots. Used clothing, yet a better alternative to her old tattered, and scorched bodysuit or the borrowed clothing that barely covered her body. What she wore was more casual and comfortable for traversing through a populated area, and particularly stylish.
“You’re clear on the background you’ve submitted and all information has been accepted by the Galactic Ministry Bureau.” The woman stated in a drawn-out monotone, as if she’d practiced this line over 500 times, having gotten bored with it around the 20th time. “Once this has been fully accepted, you will then be a temporary citizen of the Colonial Territories, and be granted limited access to Federation and Imperial space, until your temporary status is further recognized after a joint hearing if your records remain clean or honored as a noticed citizen upon the end or before the next solar cycle. Here is your Net-link bracelet, allowing you access to ID, medical records, access to limited subspace-communications and the Cybernet, and banking information.”
The clerk handed the thin semi-circular device to Kazia, who examined it. The device appeared plain with a triangular head at the top of the arched metal that wrapped snugly on her wrist once slapped on, appearing difficult to force off.
“One more thing.”
The Baragaan clerk’s voice took a sudden tone of emotion conveying concern as she gestured Kazia to come closer. She did so out of curiosity when the bureaucratic monotone dissolved.
“That Terran ain’t forcing you into dis, huh?” The woman’s voice had a deep accent to it, usually heard from rural sectors.
Kazia glanced back at Lucian for a quick moment to see him still sleeping in the chair, his head tilted back against the wall. If it were any other situation, she wouldn’t have been so keen on their arrangement, yet only because of this trust and connection that was building to tie them together, she felt his honesty and well-being of her survival, even against the taboo that other, more rigid Terrans might display.
“I’m very certain,” Kazia spoke with confidence on Lucian’s behalf, her trust unwavering.
“I know what you are.” The older woman began to whisper, her words making Kazia’s ears perk up. “I can find a way to make things easier for you without a Terran to keep you down. Someone of your caliber doesn’t deserve this.”
Kazia considered the concern, the warning, the way out. She could very well leave Lucian behind, grateful for his efforts, but there was something else that drew her to him ever since she was revived by his hand. She couldn’t leave, or simply didn’t want to.
“It’s okay.” She reaffirmed her decision with certainty. “Please, finish the application.”
The declaration seemed to have either impressed the clerk or simply convinced her enough that her concern was unwarranted. “Then, by the authority of the Central Colonial Affairs,-“ she spoke again with her monotone bureaucratic voice. “-you are now a temporary registered citizen of the Central Colonial Territories.”
The woman pressed a button on the terminal, then on a data pad before side-eyeing Kazia with her large ancient orange irises. Within that moment, Kazia’s Net-link beeped once, signaling a notification. She hesitantly activated it, pressing the neon light that conjured an interactive holographic screen displaying the affirmed union within her documented profile.
Activating it with a tap of her finger, the holographic screen reacted to her touch, displaying the profile of her identification. There, she spied her name, “Kazia’taeia.” She felt the corner of her lips curve up before she could stop it, feeling a warmth in her heart that pulsed through her body with satisfaction. An identity.
She heard Lucian groaning, stirring to the same notification, his eyes widening to the realization. After a jolt, his legs quickly took on his weight, eyes shooting over to the clerk and then Kazia, who waved a single turn of her hand, a subtle sign of congratulations.
“Oh, damn, sorry, I missed it.” Lucian wiped the sleep off his face and stretched with his spine arched back. “Is everything good though?”He asked, shifting between the clerk and Kazia.
“As far as the top notches are concerned, though, keep those inhibitors in check.” The woman reminded, pointing at the metal bands surrounding Kazia’s lucra. “You Myst-users have extra eyes on you if an incident involving those star powers ends up occurring, to which said incident will go on your record.” She warned, eyeing them both, mostly Lucian. “She’s your responsibility now, Terran.“
Lucian was leaving before hearing the suspected suggestion, prompting him to respond in offense. “Hey, lady, we’re not-.”
“Next in line, Number 160!”
Kazia and Lucian both ended up outside of the office before the next person took their place in line, taking in the fresh air, yet breathing deeply as a wave of realization hit them after everything was said and done.
“Guess we’re in this together,” Lucian stated in a neutral tone, unable to convey his feelings into words.
“We are,” Kazia affirmed with a deep breath. “Thank you, Lucian. Still strange that you did this for me, but thank you.”
Lucian turned to face her partway, wanting to see what she wasn’t saying. “It was either this or jail time.” He shrugged, as if stating the obvious. “Besides, that little episode you had before, I’ve seen it many times and you definitely needed someone to watch over you.”
Kazia noticed a look of approval on his expression, agreeing with her words, their shared talk of expectations, and choosing their own path. She realized it in herself, in what she wanted to step away from if possible. She wanted to know what was out there in the galaxy, now that the war was over, yet her loneliness was loud and suffocating until now.
Lucian took this position with pride, choosing to stand by her side willingly, looking to fill the void in his own heart and hers. He made this choice on his own volition, taboo be damned. His family was no longer near, his lover a failed attempt at companionship, only for someone so different to actually be proud of his willingness for non-Terrans, his achievements, his kindness.
Lucian reached out, offering her his hand. Kazia stared at it for a moment before taking it. She tensed for a second, and a warm wave of something positive and slightly disorienting washed over her from the touch. It wasn’t clinical, but a deliberate gesture of acceptance that spoke no words, even as she tightened her grip with a firm shake.
