at metrosprawls of the Neyel Coreworld, g’Ishea and Fasaryl had never known a time when their kind had been free to graze unhindered. Frane could only wonder what it was like to live as a forced laborer on what had once been a bucolic paradise, toiling endlessly beneath the Neyel lash and the lidless eye of Holy Vangar, the Stone Skyworld that had orbited their planet since the times of the First Conquests. How would it be, he wondered, to live that way for a dozen generations without any hope of freedom?
Frane cast a questioning glance at Lofi—or rather at the globular, leathery portion of Lofi to which her primary sensory cluster was attached.
“I would advise not getting any nearer to it than this,” Lofi responded, an overtone of fear coming through the vocoder that rendered her guttural native utterances into Neyel-intelligible speech. “That phenomenon is throwing off spatial distortions like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I can’t guarantee this ship will hold together if I let us drift any closer to them.”
“Disappointing,” Frane said, though he wasn’t completely certain that he meant it.
“I’m more than happy to keep my distance,” said Nozomi in a quavering voice. Her tail was wrapping nervously around Frane’s waist again. He brushed the prehensile appendage aside with his own.
Frane turned toward her, prepared to offer a waspish observation about her tiresome, almost theatrical displays of faintheartedness. Why couldn’t she keep her fears to herself, as he did?
“Why has this appeared?” Fasaryl said, pointing the opposable digits of one of his front hooves toward the tendrils of energy displayed on the screen.
“You know why, beloved,” g’Ishea said, worrying her dewlap with her
Frane cast a questioning glance at Lofi—or rather at the globular, leathery portion of Lofi to which her primary sensory cluster was attached.
“I would advise not getting any nearer to it than this,” Lofi responded, an overtone of fear coming through the vocoder that rendered her guttural native utterances into Neyel-intelligible speech. “That phenomenon is throwing off spatial distortions like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I can’t guarantee this ship will hold together if I let us drift any closer to them.”
“Disappointing,” Frane said, though he wasn’t completely certain that he meant it.
“I’m more than happy to keep my distance,” said Nozomi in a quavering voice. Her tail was wrapping nervously around Frane’s waist again. He brushed the prehensile appendage aside with his own.
Frane turned toward her, prepared to offer a waspish observation about her tiresome, almost theatrical displays of faintheartedness. Why couldn’t she keep her fears to herself, as he did?
“Why has this appeared?” Fasaryl said, pointing the opposable digits of one of his front hooves toward the tendrils of energy displayed on the screen.
“You know why, beloved,” g’Ishea said, worrying her dewlap with her
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