Kenoskina I: Retribution

Chapter 1: Shipment

From the silenced dissenter. 

7910 ACA

Former Presidential Palace, Cillades

Some crazy loud noise jolts me awake. A quick glance around and I remember- I must have fallen asleep waiting for them to arrive. I'm sitting in a nice, comfy chair on the eighth floor terrace of the only functional government building on the entire planet. Chatter sounds from the landing pad a floor below me. I yawn as I reluctantly rise from the chair and shake off the last vestiges of fatigue, making my back inside the building and down the stairwell. 

I throw open the glass doors to the landing pad on the seventh floor. Sitting on the pad is a civilian supply ship, typically designed. The Quinnice Corporation logo on its hull has been poorly painted over with a large yellow "M." Milling about the open cargo bay doors of the ship are Humans. As the doors close behind me, much of the chatter slows to a whisper and all eyes fall on me. 

"...is that the Terminus?"

"She was asleep."

"They need their rest too, after killing people all day."

I shoot a short glare at the man who made the joke before my attention refocuses as one of the Humans, a tall, older man, approaches me. 

He bows his head slightly. "Terminus Akalieule Kiriel of Cillades." The man lifts his head and meets my eyes. "Correct?"

I nod and force a smile. "That's me. This is your shipment from your stockpiles on Maveron, right?"

"Yep. We've got food, clothes, hygiene products, and even a few technological... trinkets. Figured that your people could make use of them for some quality of life improvements." 

"Well, it'll be much appreciated here. They're pretty overworked." I turn to the idling Humans by the ship. "Take your supplies into the building and load them onto the industrial lift by the stairwell. I don't really care how long it takes. Just get it all down onto the ground floor and hand it off to the guys at the bottom. They'll take care of it." 

Affirming murmurs ripple through the crowd of Human workers. They begin to load the heavy crates of supplies in the cargo bay onto hovering trolleys, guiding them into the building and onto the industrial lift. 

"This should be settled then," I say to the older man, tapping the TAMD screen on my arm a few times. "Give me a moment to fetch your crew's pay."

The man is quiet as he watches the advanced technology work. The TAMD summons its' targeted object- a case of the universally accepted currency known as nym, into the appendage that the arm-worn device detects as my hand. 

"Damn. I want one of those," the man says, chuckling. 

I smile as I hand him the case. "Take care." I nod to him and head back inside, staying out of the way of the loaded hover-trolleys guided by the crew members. 

I sigh before beginning my descent down the stairwell. The fatigue from earlier is creeping back to me. Unfortunately for me, the sun is only just beginning to set. I reach the bottom floor of the presidential palace, entering the large, open chamber decorated with elaborate marble floors and pillars. Here, the Humans are beginning to offload the hover-trolleys. Taking the crates from the Humans are various Ranai employed by the palace.

The Ranai are the original inhabitants of the marshy Cillades, a species of amphibious humanoids with slippery skin, adorned with bioluminescence in shades of either blue or green. While they are not native to Cillades, Ranai settlers had come to the planet and claimed it long ago.

Then I showed up.

Looking around the main chamber of the presidential palace, the population is not exclusively Ranai. Many Humans and a few other species are present on the planet.