“What are we waiting for again?” Cirrus asked. The previous day had been a long one and already the Tribunal had reconvened for another meeting. While her and the other Elders had been granted some time to breathe, the constant barrage of meetings were beginning to blur together.

  “Commander Cyrix has some news for us,” Kaius replied. Cyrix had been tight-lipped about what the news was, preferring to wait until the entire Tribunal was gathered to make his announcement. All Kaius knew was that while important, it wasn’t as urgent as the prior day’s events.

  Cirrus raised her brow. “If the Commander is the one with news, I expect it to be related to the facility. Did he say what the news was?” Kaius simply shook his head. The room was abuzz with guesses as to what had been discovered this time and whether or not Ava was related to it.

  Kaius permitted the Elders to freely converse, not seeing the need to silence them while they speculated. Some time later, a signal hailing from the flagship’s secured room caught everyone’s attention. It was time.

  Kaius typed at his data slate and permitted the signal to access their network after verifying the identity of the other party. Cyrix’s figure winked into existence at the podium, a serious expression adorning his face. “Most Honourable Elders,” he said respectfully, bowing slightly. Lifting his gaze, he continued to address the room. “I’ve called for this meeting due to a recent development at the facility.”

  “So we’ve been told,” Cirrus said. “Would you care to enlighten us what was so important to call the entire Tribunal together? Has the machine caused any problems?”

  “Quite the opposite actually. So far, she’s been entirely compliant with our instructions and restrictions. It’s because of her that I’m calling the meeting.”

  “You’ve made progress then?” Orryn asked, excited. She shot a smug look towards Cirrus, who scowled in return. “What have you discovered?”

  “If you recall my report on the most recently discovered rooms in the facility, you’ll find mention that one of them contains many bodies preserved in pods,” Cyrix began. Several Elders looked down at their data slates and drew up the report, skimming it as he spoke. He paid them no mind and continued. “While most of these bodies are deformed, there is one that remains fully intact, free from mutations.”

  “Your news has to do with this particular body, then?” Kaius asked.

  “Yes,” Cyrix nodded. “After showing the rooms to Ava,” Cirrus’ scowl deepened at the mention, “she actually recognized the body preserved in stasis.”

  There was an immediate uproar. Voices fought to be heard, each one asking questions or making remarks. Kaius called for order and soon the room quieted back down. “You’re certain of this?” he asked. Like many others in the room, he found the odds of such an occurrence to be rather slim.

  “According to Ava, the man was one of her test subjects alongside Adrian on his home world. He and Adrian are the only two people her facility ever gave to the gru’ul.”

  “And they ended up at the same facility?” Orryn asked. “Adrian claimed not to have seen any other of his kind during his time there. Was he lying?”

  “Of course the man was lying!” Cirrus spat. “He’s been playing us for fools this entire time, expecting us to believe his outrageous story!”

  “It’s possible,” Cyrix broached, “that the man remained in stasis in the sealed room and that Adrian never saw him. This is what Ava believes, as the man is frozen in the same position she last saw him in.”

  “Meaning that the man was never taken out of stasis?” Orryn asked.

  Cyrix nodded. “Exactly. Ava called the man a partial success to her experiments back on Adrian’s home world, which might explain why he was never experimented on. She believes that the gru’ul must have decided to postpone their experiments on him after reviewing the data sent from her old facility.”

  “Which means that Adrian was successful? Did Ava say what the goals of the experiments were?”

  “She did not and refuses to elaborate. According to her, the knowledge wouldn’t do anybody any good, as nobody but Adrian knows what else happened to him after he woke up in the gru’ul facility. She believes that whatever results she achieved back on Earth would be completely overshadowed by the gru’ul’s experiments.”

  “Great,” Cirrus scoffed, “now the machine is keeping information from us? It’s bad enough that we let Adrian withhold information. Now we’re letting a machine do the same? When will it ever end?”

  “We’ve been over this, Cirrus,” Orryn chastised. “Adrian is a civilian now. We can’t force him to speak any more than we can make Miss Ayala.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less frustrating!” Cirrus slammed her hand on the table. “All we’ve done is get pushed around by stubborn individuals and a machine. What kind of military lets a handful of people have this much power over them?”

  “One with morals,” Orryn countered. “What kind of military would we be if we forced them to speak when they’ve done nothing wrong?”

  “A normal one!” Cirrus threw her arms in the air. “We’re faced with threats and unknowns. It’s our job to neutralize them and keep our populace safe. We can’t do that if we don’t know what happened!”

  Cyrix watched the exchange impassively, waiting for his turn to speak again. Kaius noticed and interrupted the growing argument between the two Elders. “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Commander?” he asked. Orryn and Cirrus paused and turned to face Cyrix.

  “Yes. As interesting as it is that Ava recognizes the body in the pod, that’s not why I called this meeting today.” Cyrix glanced between Orryn and Cirrus. Kaius motioned for him to continue. “Ava’s informed us that she is able to operate the pods. She can free the man she recognizes, given enough time. The only issue impeding her from doing so right away is that the terminal is encrypted.”

  Nobody spoke for a long while, digesting the news that Cyrix dropped in their laps. “We need to free the man,” Orryn said finally. “We can’t leave him trapped in that pod for an eternity.”

  “Absolutely not!” Cirrus exploded. “Dealing with Adrian is hard enough. You want to add a second person into the mix?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We have the chance to save someone’s life. It would be cruel to leave him trapped in his pod.”

  “Where are we going to put him? The goal is to keep Adrian’s existence a secret. If we have a second person that looks just like him roaming around, how are we going to be able to do that?” Cirrus argued. “Our best option is to leave the man where we found him until this entire situation has settled down.”

  “We could put him at the same safe house as Adrian. There should be room. Worst case, some of the people there can bunk together,” Orryn said, throwing Cirrus a look. “The only problem is the logistics of transporting the man from the facility to the safe house without his identity being discovered.”

  “Exactly my point! It’s going to be impossible. Let’s assume, for a moment, that we free him and manage to get him onto a ship without anybody seeing him. Do you honestly think that the crew transporting him won’t take a look at who they’re transporting? It’s inevitable.”

  “Then we make it abundantly clear what would happen to them if they did,” Orryn said calmly. “I agree that this isn’t something that can afford to get out. We’ll simply make the consequences steep enough to act as a deterrent.”

  “I’m telling you, the risks are too high. There’s too much that can go wrong. We should wait before deciding what to do with the man.”

  “Waiting when we can make a difference would be cruel.”

  “He’s in stasis,” Cirrus said flatly. “He’ll never know the difference.” Orryn looked like she was about to protest but changed her mind and frowned instead. Cirrus was right. A few more hours or days wouldn’t make a difference.

  “I still think we should release him. It might be a bit of a hassle for us, but I’m sure it would mean the world to the man trapped in the pod. It doesn’t have to be right away,” Orryn conceded, knowing she wouldn’t be able to convince the rest of the Tribunal otherwise, “but we can’t, in good conscience, leave the man to his fate when we can make a difference.”

  “Will we be able to communicate with the man?” Maraz asked Cyrix, speaking up. “If not, it’s going to very difficult to get him to cooperate. Will we need to get Adrian involved to translate again? Do we even want Adrian knowing about this latest development?”

  “Ava has confirmed that she can converse with him and translate for us. There should be no need for Adrian to know about our discovery until we decide to tell him,” Cyrix confirmed.

  “You’re making it sound like we’re going to tell him,” Cirrus scowled.

  “Adrian’s going to find out eventually when the man arrives at his doorstep. The team at the safe house is going to need to know ahead of time in order to prepare. I have no doubt that Adrian will learn through them.”

  “You’re making it sound like we’re going to free him,” Cirrus said, her scowl deepening. Orryn’s unreasonable demands and opinions had long been a thorn in her side. Cirrus was determined to make the other Elders see reason. They simply couldn’t afford another leak. If Adrian’s existence had managed to get leaked to the Tribunal, then so too could the man in the pod. The world wasn’t ready to learn about what they’d uncovered at the gru’ul facility. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

  “I say we put it to a vote,” Orryn said confidently, addressing the room. “We can continue to discuss the merits of freeing the man, but at the end of the day, we must ask ourselves what kind of people we want to be. Will we turn a blind eye when we can make a difference, or will we act within our power to protect people? The man in the pod may have knowledge about the experiments that took place on Adrian’s home world. Unlike Adrian, he might be willing to divulge his secrets. What we have is another avenue to uncover the facility’s secrets. The man in the pod might be grateful enough at having been freed to freely give us the information we seek.”

  “There it is,” Cirrus accused with narrowed eyes. “You don’t care about the individual. Admit it. All you want to do is use them to advance your own agenda. I’m sure letting the android live was out the goodness of your heart.”

  “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Orryn asked, insulted. “Right now, I’m the only one advocating for the man’s release. I want him freed even if we have nothing to gain because it’s the right thing to do. However, it would be remiss of me to ignore the opportunity presented to us. And let’s face it, without any incentive, there’s no way the rest of us would entertain my proposal.”

  “Because your proposal only serves to make our lives difficult! Sorting out the logistics of freeing the man is going to be a nightmare, not to mention the hugely increased risk of all of our hard work at keeping a lid on things being for nothing! Your morals are blinding you to the reality of the situation,” Cirrus huffed, slamming a fist on the desk.

  “I think,” Maraz interrupted, “that we should further discuss the issue where the rest of us can give our thoughts and opinions. As it stands, not a single one of us other than you two have had the chance to weigh in on the matter.”

  Orryn and Cirrus paused and looked around the room as Maraz spoke. Heads were nodding along in agreement with the Elder. “I have no issue with that,” Orryn said, mollifying the other Elders. “By all means, I would love to hear where everybody stands on the matter. Together, we can determine what is best for our faction. You all already know my stance on the matter. Maraz, the floor is yours,” she conceded. Cirrus motioned with her hand for Maraz to continue speaking, making it clear that she wouldn’t interrupt either.

  “Thank you,” Maraz said dryly. He summed up the points that had been made by both Orryn and Cirrus, then asked the remaining Elders one at a time what their thoughts on the issue. Each Elder added their own arguments for or against freeing the man trapped in the pod. Cyrix had been dismissed during the proceedings, leaving the Tribunal to make their decision in private.

  Voices grew heated, vying to be heard over one another as the Elders attempted to come to a decision. Hours passed with no conclusion being reached. As it stood, the Elders were once again split equally on the matter.

  “That’s enough!” Kaius barked, silencing the room. He’d had enough of the constant bickering the once civil conversation had devolved into. “It seems to me that the discussion has veered greatly off course. The original purpose of this meeting was to determine what to do with Cyrix’s discovery. Arguments have been made both for and against freeing the man. It’s time to vote. We can determine our next course of action after we’ve come to a decision. All those against freeing the man in the stasis pod, vote now.”

  An orb appeared above Cirrus’ head before Kaius finished speaking, earning her an irate glare from Kaius. She waited in anticipation and smiled gleefully when another orb appeared, followed by another. All it would take was one more vote to break the tie. She glanced at Maraz, who drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought.

  This time, Orryn did not speak up during the vote, pleasing Cirrus greatly. Without the outside interference, she had the chance for the vote to swing in her favour. Kaius saw the indecision on Maraz’s face plain as day and gave him time to continue. He was in no hurry to rush the proceedings and was more than willing to let things play out naturally.

  The room waited with bated breath until finally, Maraz shook his head and leaned back. He’d made his decision. There was yet another tie, forcing Kaius to intervene. He frowned, not expecting to have had to cast a vote yet again. It was becoming a more common occurrence, though he supposed the circumstances were rather dividing.

  “We have a tie,” Kaius announced for the others to hear, removing from the other Elders the opportunity to vote on the matter. “Once again, it appears as if I will be the deciding vote. I would like to make an informed decision and for that, I will require Commander Cyrix’s input on the matter.”

  “You’re inviting someone to sit in on the voting proceedings again?” Cirrus balked.

  Kaius shook his head. “No. I’m inviting the Commander to answer several questions I have. He will then be dismissed before I cast my vote.” The answer mollified Cirrus somewhat, but not enough to completely erase her displeasure. Kaius typed away at his data slate and soon Cyrix’s figure winked into existence behind the podium. All eyes turned towards him.

  “Commander,” Kaius began, “we are in need of your thoughts on the matter. As the person currently running ground operations at the facility, your input would be much appreciated.”

  Cyrix bowed his head slightly. “Of course,” he said deferentially. “I will answer the best I can.”

  “That’s all we ask,” Kaius replied. “How long would it take for Ava to crack the encryption in the terminal that would allow her to operate the pod?”

  “I don’t know,” Cyrix said honestly. “She did, however, mention that the encryption on that terminal would be far simpler to crack than the encryption on the terminal found in the other sealed room. Ava theorizes that the terminal that controls the pod doesn’t have any important research data on it compared to the other terminal.”

  Kaius stroked his beard. “Is there any chance the a’vaare who are trapped could be freed as well?”

  Cyrix hesitated. “I would advise against that. Odds are, most of them are either already dead or will die shortly after being taken out of stasis. The remaining bodies that are intact are horribly deformed. Unless there’s some way to undo the mutations, we would be condemning those freed to a lifetime of misery.” He shook his head. “We can only free the one person and even then, Ava isn’t sure if the man is alive.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Ava knows how to operate the pods using the terminals, but not how the technology actually works. It’s possible that something went wrong, and the man drowned in the liquid keeping him in stasis.”

  Kaius frowned. “Adrian survived, did he not?”

  “He did, but that doesn’t mean the other person survived as well. We can only assume that the technology worked as intended, given how much more technologically advanced the gru’ul are. It wouldn’t make sense for one pod to work while the other didn’t, but there’s always a chance.”

  “Do you think it possible to transport the man from the facility to the safe house on Verilia without his identity being discovered?”

  Cyrix hummed, envisioning the steps required to carry out such a monumental task. The chances of carrying out the transfer successfully without a single person learning their secret were slim to none. It would require meticulous preparation to pull off such an operation. “With great difficulty, but I believe it to be possible, provided the crew transporting him is one we can trust.”

  “Would you use Nadi and her team?”

  “Not a chance,” Cyrix replied immediately.

  “You don’t trust them to carry out the mission?” Kaius asked, surprised. “They’re the most skilled team on-site.”

  “I trust everybody except Nadi to carry out the mission properly. She’s proven to be too curious about the operations at the facility. I doubt she’d be able to resist the temptation of looking in on the prisoner. Because of that, I wouldn’t use that team.”

  “What if you left Nadi behind and had the rest of the team carry out the mission?”

  Cyrix paused. “That might work. I’d have to sit down and evaluate which team would be best suited to the mission first, however.”

  “One last question for you, Commander. Do you think releasing the man to be worth it?”

  Cyrix hesitated, knowing this to be the crux Kaius’ questions had been leading to. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s much that could go wrong, yet he might be able to tell us information Adrian refuses to. There’s still so much about the facility that we don’t know.”

  Kaius continued to stroke his beard. “I see. Thank you for your input, Commander. That is all for now.” Cyrix tilted his head in respect and Kaius dismissed him. The life-like image winked out of existence, leaving the Tribunal alone again. Six sets of eyes turned to face Kaius as they awaited his judgement. “I’ve listened to your arguments. The gods only know how many of those you all had today. I agree with Cirrus in that there’s much that could go wrong with this operation.” Cirrus preened at the mention. “However,” Kaius said, making her freeze in place, “I find myself intrigued at the secrets this man has to offer us. Right now, we’re sorely lacking in information on the events that occurred at the facility, and we’ve now confirmed, if Ava is to be believed, the existence of another facility related to this one. Both Ava and Adrian refuse to elaborate on the events that occurred there, and I believe that this man may be able to enlighten us. As such, I vote for releasing the man.”

  “What!? No!” Cirrus shouted. “Are you really willing to jeopardize our entire operation for information about events that didn’t actually occur at this facility?”

  Kaius levelled Cirrus a flat look. “Yes,” he said sternly. “I believe we have much to gain with this man’s cooperation.”

  “We have no proof that the man will even talk about what happened to himself any more than Adrian has! It’s lunacy to even think about freeing this man.”

  “The votes have been cast, Cirrus, and this is the result,” Kaius intoned in a firm voice, leaving no chance for her to refute. “We don’t always have things go our way and I understand that as of late you’ve been opposed to the actions taken by our military. However, we must respect our laws if we are to be in a position to uphold them.”

  Cirrus trembled where she sat, flushed a deep shade of purple. She struggled to contain herself in the face of yet another vote that had not gone her way. Her eyes were hard-set as she addressed the room. “Fine. May we not regret our actions. We’ve been taking a lot of chances lately and one day, they will come back to bite us in the ass. Mark my words.”

  “And we will deal with the consequences as they come,” Kaius replied smoothly. “For now, our course of action regarding our newest discovery is decided. Are there any other topics or concerns we should address before ending our meeting?”

  Maraz pressed the button to vote, an orb of light appearing above his head. Kaius motioned for him to take the floor. “If what Ava said is true, Adrian should recognize the man in the pod. Should we not ask him what he knows about our mystery man?”

  Cirrus rolled her eyes. “I doubt he’d be willing to speak up on the topic,” she said. “He refused to elaborate on what Ava and the other researchers did to him when they held him captive. He clamps right up anytime we try to question him.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Orryn interjected. “He’s been very open about his home world’s culture and other mundane topics.”

  “Which could all be made up,” Cirrus pointed out. “We still haven’t accepted his claims that he’s from an alien civilization. We can’t trust anything he’s told us.”

  “I seriously doubt the entire thing is a figment of his imagination. There’s way too much detail in his story,” Orryn said, shaking her head. “Not to mention we’ve found others that resemble him.”

  “Until we have actual proof, we can’t dismiss the possibility that it’s all a lie.”

  “Perhaps he’s discussed the matter with some of the soldiers assigned to keep watch over him. I’m sure they had questions about his reaction to last night’s events. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was more forthcoming with them than with us.”

  “Why don’t we call in some of the people close to him to see?” Maraz asked.

  “The only person that would know anything of substance is Miss Ayala and we all know how questioning her will turn out,” Cirrus scoffed. “It won’t. She’s going to refuse to answer any of our questions pertaining to Adrian.”

  “From what I remember,” Orryn said, speaking up, “he was working with Tassie on developing musical instruments. Could we not order her to give a report on anything she’s learned from Adrian? She might have been told information we’re not aware of while they were working together.”

  Kaius stroked his beard. “There is a chance. Very well, we’ll order her to participate in this meeting, so that we may question her.” He picked up his data slate from his desk and called Nessah. The room remained silent while he explained their need for one of her soldiers’ testimony.

  Nessah sighed. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t call for her sooner,” she said, after listening to what Kaius had to say. “I’ll give her her new orders. She should be with you shortly.”

  “Thank you, General,” Kaius said.

  “However, if I may?” Nessah cleared her throat. Kaius motioned for her to continue speaking. “I already have the information regarding the instruments compiled. Would you prefer it if I send it over, rather than hear about it from my soldier?”

  Kaius looked at the nods around the room at Nessah’s suggestion. “That would be highly appreciated, once you have the time. However, we would like to press your soldier for anything else she might have heard Adrian let slip while working together.”

  Nessah nodded and Kaius dismissed her. The minutes stretched on as the Tribunal waited for Tassie to arrive. She appeared promptly, looking rather nervous. “Most Honourable Elders,” she fumbled. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “You’ve been working with Adrian closely,” Kaius started. “We would like to hear more about your time with him. What has he told you about his home world during the time you’ve spent with him? Has he divulged any technological concepts that we haven’t heard yet?”

  “Are you sure you I’m the one you want answering those questions? Reya would be a much better choice. She knows more about Adrian than anyone else,” Tassie replied.

  “It’s our understanding that Miss Ayala would be uncooperative if questioned. Unfortunately, we can’t force her to answer, and she knows it. You, however, have been working closely with Adrian on replicating instruments from his home world. Hence why we’ve called for you. If you would,” Kaius motioned for Tassie to speak.

  Unsure of herself, Tassie began recounting her time spent working on replicating Adrian’s instruments. The Elders nodded along, reading Nessah’s report as Tassie spoke, finding no inconsistencies. When she was finished, Kaius once again bade her to continue speaking. Wracking her brain, she decided to recount some of the few stories Adrian had told them about his home world, garnering Maraz’s interest.

  The Elder listened attentively to every detail, hoping to glean insight into Adrian’s life before they found him. Sadly, Tassie’s stories did little to satisfy his curiosity. Cirrus and Orryn waited patiently without interrupting, having already heard much of the content from Adrian himself. “What else can you tell us about Adrian’s home world?” Maraz asked once Tassie finished yet another anecdote Adrian had recounted. “Something not related to his culture, if at all possible.”

  Tassie thought for a moment. “The plants where he comes from are green, according to him,” she said. “We just had a discussion the other day about it. He compared one of our fruits to something he had back one his home world, claiming that they were the same in all but colour.”

  Cirrus barked a short laugh. “Already, he looks so similar to us. You expect me to believe that certain plants are almost identical to ours as well? That ruins any credibility his claims have. His existence as he’s described it is already impossible. Throw plants into the mix and it becomes a nothing more than a bad joke!”

  Tassie frowned. “I agree that it seems to be a bit much, but he was insistent on it. He explained how the fruit starts of green and then slowly transitions to a red colour.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about! How could any plant be green? It doesn’t make sense!”

  “Actually, he explained that part to us. It was pretty fascinating. He knew quite a bit on the subject. Apparently the man also really likes plants and took it upon himself to learn more about them.”

  The room paused at Tassie’s words. “Do you mean to tell us,” Cirrus said slowly, “that you learned valuable scientific information and withheld it?”

  Tassie’s eyes went wide. “Not on purpose!” she said quickly, waving her arms in front of her. “With my other work relating to the facility, I haven’t gotten around to writing up a report about it yet. I didn’t realize plants turning green was something you wanted to know about right away. I did have him help me make notes about it. He didn’t see the harm in me writing it down.”

  “Is there anything else you’re not telling us?” Cirrus asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.

  Tassie scrambled, digging through her mind for anything she could present that would mollify the Tribunal. “Did you know he has words for things that we don’t?” she hedged. The Elders shared a look and Cirrus motioned for her to continue. “There exist words describing emotions that we fundamentally don’t have in our language. Reya won’t shut up about it,” she grumbled, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

  “So what?” Cirrus scoffed. “Nobody here can understand his language. He could be making it up entirely.”

  “I think that seeing others who look like him and can converse with him should be proof enough that the language is real,” Maraz pointed out. “It stands to reason it can express concepts we haven’t thought of yet. I’d be really curious to learn more about these discrepancies.”

  “Fine, the language is special,” Cirrus said. “That doesn’t mean he’s from an alien civilization.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Maraz said. “He knows a completely unknown language and there are others that look like him out there that know it as well.” He shifted his attention to Tassie. “What can you tell us about the plants from Adrian’s home world? Explain to us why they’re green.”

  The Tribunal gave her leave to get the notes she’d taken. Tassie returned not two minutes later, flushed from her mad rush to deliver the information to the Elders in a timely manner. She recounted what Adrian had told her about the subject. The result was a surprisingly in-depth lesson about chlorophyll. When she finished, nobody in the room spoke. Tassie grew increasingly nervous as the seconds stretched on.

  “That’s,” Maraz trailed off, drawing the everyone’s attention. “Is he telling the truth?” He looked around the room and saw the doubt in the others’ eyes. “If Adrian can provide that level of detailed knowledge on the subject,” he continued when nobody else spoke up, “where did he get that knowledge? He couldn’t possibly have learned it if he had been somehow grown in the gru’ul lab. There’s no way a person in such a sterile environment would have been able to deduce that and I highly doubt the gru’ul would have taught him. The answer is that he must have been taught by somebody else. So then who was this other person taught by? We have confirmation that there are more beings out there that look like him and can converse with him. Recognize him, even! There must be more of them if they were able to learn such intricate knowledge and have the resources to disseminate the information to the masses. The only way that all of this is possible is if Adrian’s claims are accurate. He must truly hail from an alien civilization.”

  The entire Tribunal went dead silent. Nobody spoke, too shocked at the implications behind Maraz’s questions and claims. He was effectively proposing they agree to Adrian’s claims and for first contact protocols to be initiated.

  Maraz spoke once more. “Which leads to the bigger question of why they look like us.” Concerned faces filled the room, doubt spreading as the other Elders grappled with indecision regarding their stance on the matter.

  Not everyone was convinced, however. “That’s quite a bit of conjecture,” Cirrus said, breaking the silence. “What if the people who taught him are different looking than him? Does that mean there’s yet another civilization out there that was able to create something that looks so similar to us without us knowing? There’s only one other civilization we know of. Are they spying on us? There are still too many questions regarding whether or not Adrian was simply abducted from one of our factions and turned a different colour as a result of the experiments performed on him. We can’t rule that possibility out either. What makes you so sure that his claims are true over the more likely alternatives?”

  Maraz drummed his fingers as he sought to explain further his reasoning. “Let’s assume, for a minute, that what Adrian has told us about plants is true and that we can replicate it in a lab. From what’s been described, we’ve seen no evidence of anything related to green plants – any plants, even – at the facility. It’s highly probably that there weren’t any, ever. Had he been raised in the facility we found him at, he most likely would have never seen a green plant and wouldn’t be able to know it exists. Can you explain how else he could have possibly learned that knowledge?”

  “The gru’ul could have taught him,” Cirrus said. “Who knows what kind of knowledge they have?”

  “Why would they do that?” Maraz asked.

  Cirrus shrugged. “How should I know? They’re literal aliens. I have no idea how they think. Given the technological advances the gru’ul have made, it’s possible they discovered it and taught it to him. Somebody had to teach him, that I agree. It’s most likely the gru’ul that did so. We know they taught him our language. Why? If Adrian’s story is to be trusted, then he should have never seen the light of day. There was no need for them to teach him that, yet they did.”

  “They ran a genetics facility focusing on animals, not vegetation. I just can’t understand why the gru’ul would teach him so much about plants in a place where there are none.”

  “We don’t have to understand it,” Cirrus pointed out. “As long as it’s a possibility, we can’t rule it out until proven otherwise.”

  “I disagree,” Maraz said, shaking his head. “The situation makes much more sense if we accept his claims. Adrian’s provided too much detail on his home world’s culture for it to be made up. With everything else we know, this is the only scenario that makes sense.”

  Kaius glanced at Tassie, who had been long forgotten. “I think this discussion is best continued in private. Thank you for your input, soldier. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to add,” Tassie shook her head, “you’re dismissed. If we need you, we’ll call for you again.” Her figure winked out of existence, leaving the Elders alone once more.

  “Are you so eager to enact first contact protocols? This isn’t something we can decide on a whim,” Cirrus threw at Maraz. “Do you truly understand what that entails?”

  “I’m aware,” Maraz said seriously. “But face it, Cirrus. We can’t keep turning a blind eye to the answer that’s been in front of us all along. We’ve been given plenty of evidence supporting his claims. The gru’ul don’t appear to be actively researching the phenomenon that Adrian’s described and the odds of him figuring out any of that on his own are so slim they might as well be non-existent.”

  “It’s still more probable than another species evolving to look the same as us! If we enact first contact protocols and we’re wrong, we’re in deep shit. Regardless of whether or not Adrian’s claims are accurate, we won’t look too good when scrutinized for how we initially treated him,” Cirrus said.

  “I think that says quite a bit about how we’ve handled the situation,” Orryn said. “Luckily, we’ve done a few things right. We’re keeping him safe and providing for him. Not to mention the fact that we rescued him from live experimentation.”

  “If we enact first contact protocols, we’re effectively making Adrian untouchable!” Cirrus spat. “The man has far too many secrets for us to let that happen. Already, we gave in and made him a citizen, which makes dealing with him a mess. It’ll be a nightmare if we give him diplomatic immunity in addition to giving him recourse against us for our actions. We imprisoned the man multiple times and starved him.”

  “Right now, he’s not too fond of us,” Orryn said. “But we can do our best to improve our relations with him in the future in the hopes that he won’t take legal action against us.”

  “Are you really willing to take that bet?” Cirrus asked.

  “We have no choice,” Maraz said. “All we can do is hope for the best and make every effort to improve our relations with the man. Should we ever make contact with the rest of his civilization, how we’ll have treated him will greatly impact their reaction to us.”

  “We’re giving the man too much power over us if we enact first contact protocols. Even then, it’s still not certain that he’s telling the truth!” Cirrus said.

  “I think,” Orryn said, eyeing the looks of frustration on her colleagues faces, “that we should hear what the others have to say on the matter before coming to any sort of decision.”

  The other Elders weighed in, giving their thoughts on the matter. Hours passed with no agreement being made. “That’s enough,” Kaius said eventually, interrupting the debate. “We’ve had enough time to debate the topic. We’ve heard many arguments both for and against Maraz’s proposal. It’s time for us to come to a decision. Do we accept Adrian Blackwood’s claims of being from an alien civilization, should his knowledge prove true? All in favour, vote now.”

  Not a single vote was immediately cast. Even Maraz, who pushed the idea to begin with, took the time to reassess his stance. The minutes stretched as every person in the room tore down and analyzed every argument presented.

  Orryn, surprisingly, was the first to cast her vote. Even though no others joined her, Kaius gave the Elders more time to come to a decision. He knew, as much as anybody else, that their actions would alter history as they knew it.

  Time moved forward at a crawl until eventually, Maraz cast his vote as well. An orb of light hovered above his head, joining Orryn’s. He looked around the room to get a feel of where the others stood on the matter. Not long after, a third orb appeared.

  Only one vote was missing for it to be official.

  When no other Elder came to a decision after more than an hour, Kaius was forced to call the vote. “It appears we have a tie,” he said. “I was afraid it would come to this. If there are any others who wish to vote, do so now or forever hold your peace.” Nobody else moved and Kaius spoke once more. “I’ve listened to your arguments carefully and I too have come to a decision. I vote,” he intoned formally, “in favour. There’s simply too much evidence that builds a strong case for it. The only way the situation adds up is if Adrian is, in fact, from an alien civilization.”

  “Are you kidding me!?” Cirrus exploded, unable to remain silent any longer. She’d put up with the charade long enough and needed to have her voice heard one last time. “There’s still plenty of reasons not to accept Adrian’s claims! We can’t deny that there are other possibilities that could grant him such knowledge. His skin having been changed colour due to the experiments still hasn’t been disproven. We’re being far too hasty in accepting the man’s claims. There’s still too much we don’t know!”

  “Cirrus,” Kaius said heavily. “The votes have been cast. Whether you like it or not, enough of us have been persuaded otherwise.” He looked around the room, making eye contact with the others, one by one. “We, the Sunalii Faction, hereby formally accept Adrian Blackwood’s claims of being from an alien civilization on the condition that his knowledge prove to be accurate. We shall spare no resource to find out the truth once and for all.”