Link
I've just finished eating, when finally the first contact comes through. The missive, a slip of paper, taps against the glass door of the small, blue administration office where I sit at the counter. The paper is marked with the intricate lettering of an encrypted message from the network. We've been out of contact for weeks.
My hands, resting quietly in-between palms, collect the paper as I look up into the broadcast video feed mounted on the wall. It is Iris Chatswin that's in the briefing...
"To my most valued agent: I am contacting you three days too late, but I am posting this message to you regardless. Please, if you need information on what happened to you, please send a qaunt message. We have been unable to summon you for three weeks." She looks down quickly. "This means you, of course. This message is to be treated as secret. If you are reading it, it suggest that you were unable to get that transmission, in case your chip is not functioning.
"I know that there is no reason to trust me, but I was hired to contact you.
"Today I was contacted by a man in the administration offices. He stumbled across a message that I had left for you. Taken by him, the message was forwarded to his supervisor, who in turn forwarded the message to the Empire. It must have communicated with their network and been delivered to you.
"I know that the information is probably sketchy, but from what Aurora, a man ish woman, was able to translate it, we surmise that the Empire knows that you are on the planet and that they are on their way to you to eliminate you. You are in danger.
"I will try to contact you again in three days. If you don't hear from me then, I suggest you get off of this planet before they arrive. I'm sorry for the poor quality of the message, but it was all we could do at the time.
"All the best," I can hear her say before her transmission ends. "That's it? That's all we can do?" I ask in shock. "That's it!?" The woman waiting for her in the video feed looks back and nods solemnly. Then she turns and walks out the door, her hair as long and black as ever.
The message is simple: get off this planet before they arrive.
I don't know why she bothered to do that. It's not like she can't find out anything else on her own. Within a few minutes, I'm making the decision to do just that. It's the day of my eight-year anniversary. There's no way I'm going to stay here when her people arrive to study me.
I'll be going home, to Home...and I don't care how long it takes me.
I leave the kiosk, down the long abandoned halls, eventually reaching the west edge of the sprawling city. The three months of silence has been merciless. No one sent me a message, no one knew to send it to me. I took it upon myself to travel into what I consider the old part of the city to find a good place to stay. Unexpectedly, the place is empty.
I'll need to travel again for food. For now, though, I need to sit down, just for a few minutes. The day has been a long one. If it weren't for the message, I don't know what would have happened. I don't know what I still don't know. I don't know what it is that I've missed. All I know is that I'm tired, and I'm home. Here. Where I was raised and trained.
The short green grass that grows on the vast, flat area of Home's grasslands has been replaced with a darker, richer color that seems more...viscous. For a moment, I lament the loss of the green grass. I'm home, and I don't want to leave.
The dark color could be due to its otherwise faultless condition. Or it could be nothing but an ominous omen. I don't know. I mean, I'd like to have more than a few days here. But I need to have more than that...I need to spend a lot more time here.
"Were you going to just sit there all day?" a low, rumbling voice asks. It sounds like a human voice. It rumbles just enough to make it sound...um, like. "I was asked to come talk to you. I'm sorry I'm late. My people wanted to meet you first." The voice is familiar, and I imagine that the owner of the voice would be just...perfect. The short, blond, soft-spoken, bald...man. Perfect.
But that's too good to be true. I consider it for a few seconds, and then dismiss the idea completely. "So this is my chance?" I stare at his baldhead, his eyes, his body, everything. "Yep," the casualness in his speech isn't lost on me.
Has the empire summoned me? Or am I summoned by emissaries of the Resistance? My heart beats faster, my breathing becomes harder.