[i]“So that's how it's going to be then?”[/i] “Is that question really necessary?” [i]“Yes! Of course! After all of this? After I found you and-”[/i] “No; it doesn't. There's the Light, there's the Darkness, there's a shit ton of aliens that want us dead or want to take our shit, there are Guardians shooting said aliens, and there are people slowly going extinct.” [i]“Exactly! That's why we all have a responsibility to do whatever we can.”[/i] “It's been like this for centuries. Nothing ever – No, don't interrupt me. Nothing ever changes and, whether I help stand up another shack in the City or shoot some stray Dreg, that is how life will always be. I just prefer to enjoy my days rather than run on some sick treadmill of hope.” [i]“So you want us all to give up.”[/i] “No, I want people to do whatever the hell they want, even if they like running in place.” [b]***[/b] Records say that the Euro-Zone Reef was at one point referred to as the Baltic Sea. Supposedly, the area was much colder prior to the Golden Age, prior to the Traveler's terraforming of Earth. Then again, reports that old often gave conflicting views. Historic temperatures rose and fell, politics were formed around the changes, overall the texts on pre Golden Age weather read more like smutty drama with a hint of rain and sun thrown in. Eventually though, the cold waters had been changed into a coral reef teeming with life. Once the Traveler had been silenced though, that life took hold of itself almost as if in rebellion against the desolation that was filling the void that the Light left. Coral grew veraciously to the point that pillars of the stoney creatures grew out of the water; though to their own demise in the hot sun. It left the Euro-Zone Reef speckled with bleach white towers that became homes to birds, crabs, and every assortment of transitive animal. Below the surface was just as spectacular a change. The Reef had become all encompassing, cavernous, a labyrinth of color and sharp edges to the point where bare rock or seabed could not be found. Had wooden sea travel still existed, then the ships would have been shredded within moments of setting sail. Truth be told, there hadn't been need for waterborne travel in centuries. All of the humanity stared into the stars first for hope and then in unending dread. One sole vessel sought to fight the standard though. At first glance, it looked like it would be better suited without any atmosphere at all. The hull was built thick with relic iron, prepped for interplanetary travel. It wasn't as sleek at the single-seater jump ships that had become popular among the Traveler's Guardians, but it still looked more aerodynamic than a sea vessel would need. A deep navy paint had faded in the hot sun, taking on a more aged, sky blue color decorated in dings, scrapes, and bird droppings. The bottom half of the ship had been bleached white by the sea salt and had collected more than a few colonies of barnacles. Even though the body of the ship looked starbound, the wings would certainly need work. They were bent up at ninety degree angles like two tall masts with a large tarp strung between them to make a sail. Even with the cloth obstructing, the back of the ship was large and flat enough to act as a decent deck for a handful of crew members. At the time, only one figure moved along the back of the ship. It was wrapped in a cloak even in the summer's heat. It stood in front of a makeshift computer terminal cobbled together near the back of the vessel. The screen flashed information that was barely visible against the backdrop of the midday sun. The individual was obviously bored with his work, pacing back and forth across the deck only to stop and read the screen every few minutes and even less occasionally glance over the back of the ship where a thick cable ran into the depths. There was a repetition to the movements that suggested more than one day's monotonous task. It felt like weeks could pass without any meaningful change, as if the world had started with the work and would end with the work unfinished. The cawing of gulls and the occasional blow of a whale became the accompaniment to the figure’s ongoing booted steps. Days had passed, days did pass, days were to pass; there was no way to tell the change in time without any distraction, which eventually came echoing from the depths. A screech bubbled up from below the ship as if some mechanical beast had been speared in the heart. The cloaked figure broke its pace and ran to the computer terminal, bending over it to shadow the screen, and began banging commands into the scavenged keyboard. The horrendous sound eased and dissipated, but not before a hatch swung open on the deck. A single man crawled up onto deck, ignoring the metal’s heat on his calloused hands. His grated voice called out, “What the hell, Threes? Are you trying to scrap the dredge? Do you know how much glimmer that Traveler-be-damned thing costs?” The figure did not turn from its task. He spoke in a strange dialect, holding out “S”s too long and using incorrect inflection as if the words were foreign to his lips. “Apologiesss; however, it is not thisss one’sss fault.” Seeming content in his work, the figure stepped back from the terminal and turned to look at the other. Four white eyes stared out from under the hood of the cloak, showing his Eliksni heritage, a species that, without little exception, was an enemy of mankind. The human furrowed his brow, a look that had become more pronounced with age. Deep wrinkles had set in around his eyes and brow years ago even before the constant sun began its barrage against his skin. He had become a dark tawny color aside from those creases where sea salt would collect, bleaching them faintly and making him look far older than he really was. He spoke as he walked to the stern of the ship, “Yeah? Did a gull fly down again? Last one pecked enough to detach the rigging.” A very faint smile played on his lips as he stared into the water, trying to see any damage; that had been quite the eventful day. The Eliksni stepped towards the man and said defiantly, “You were the one on duty that day, yesss? Thisss one does not doze ssso easily.” “Easy, Threes, what happened then?” The man tried brushing some of his hair away as the breeze whipped it around, but it was a vain attempt. He hadn’t cut it in over a year and washed it in sea water more often than the artificially fresh water in the ship. It resulted in a knotted mess of hair that had been lightened by the sun to near-blonde, which stood at stark contrast to his dark, near constant stubble over his face. Threes relaxed its two sets of shoulders underneath the cloak and stepped up next to the human. “A ssstorm, I have not ssseen one as large on your Earth. It appearsss the electric current is powerful enough to interfere with our guidanccce.” The man turned with a questioning look only to have the Eliksni wave a gloved hand out from under the cloak. “I have already made adjustmentsss, yesss? No major damage; it can ssstill detect eth- Light.” The last word seemed especially hard for the creature to say, as if it were offensive. The man nodded and coughed for a moment. As if by reflex, he reached into his pants, pulling out a bent cigarette and a lighter, and started smoking the dried tobacco. “Good to hear; you know that old human phrase right? It costs an arm and a leg?” The human looked over with a smirk. Threes’s response was to open his cloak, revealing his three out of what should have been four arms and using them to give the middle finger with each hand. The human’s response was feigned shock, “Threes! Look at you learning human mannerisms! Maybe next we’ll cut down on the lisp, yes?” The Eliksni let out a faint growl, but his eyes didn’t show any hatred. “And you might learn Eliksssni honor, yesss? No, you Gerard are more likely to grow two more armsss and name ssself as kell.” There may have been a smile on those alien lips if they shared more human traits. “It is your shift.” Threes turned and headed towards the hatch the man had used. Gerard let the comment go; their bickering had long since transcended from hateful and passive aggressive to a strange form of comradery. He looked up at the sky, brilliant blue with the occasional cloud fluttering by. Mid inhale, he called out with smoke in his voice, “Threes, where’s the storm? It’s too clear out for it to be affecting us that much, right?” “Where does anything happen on Earth?” The alien was halfway into the hatch, ready to shut it behind him. “The Cccity, of courssse.”