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Alpha Centauri - Until the Stars Burn Out

Posted June 2, 2021, 2:22 p.m. by Civilian Mirembe M'Ahar (Director of Terraforming) (Trin S)

Part I.
Alpha Centauri — Spring, 2359.


“Give it back!” A young girl insisted, bouncing on the balls of her feet in a futile effort to snatch the wooden canvas from her brother’s hands. “Your greasy sausage fingers are going to smudge it!”

“Ah,” he groaned indignantly, “rude! Besides, I’m just looking at it.” A smirk slithered onto his lips as he peered through a hollowed knot, mocking her with a stuck-out tongue.

“No!” She flung forward, her fingers outstretched as far as her diminutive frame could manage. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” He hoisted it above her head and spun around, his feet stamping in a petulant dance. “This?” He brought it closer to his face, his tongue threatening to lick her tribble painting.

“Ein…” She whined, tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Miri…” Eindrid whined and knelt, puffing out his lower lip in a pout. But his move was erred. A split second lapsed before the distinct burning sensation met his senses, and the flash of tattered fabric and springy curls faded from view. When he realised what transpires, the culprit was halfway down the hall and milking the upper hand. The game had commenced.

Howls erupted into the air, poisoning any semblance of peace with frolic. Their feet slammed against the hardwood, fingers staining the walls with mud as they sped around the corner. Sly gestures. Outbursts of unintended laughter. Playful jabs. The game consumed any hint of animosity, bathing the house in childish glee.

“You snooze, you lose!” Mirembe taunted, darting around the hall and right into the lone, robe-adorned figure standing beside her bedroom door.

“Whoa!” They thrust their basket toward the ceiling, bracing their foot back as the girl staggered and plopped onto her bottom. Instinctively, they knelt to help her with a soft… “Are you okay, Miri?”

“Fine, Asah!” Mirembe assured, tilting her head to the canvas now plastered to her shirt. She muttered something, a somewhat doomed and sheepish grin spreading across her lips. Before she could say a word, laughter thundered behind her. And she let out an exaggerated sigh.

Knock, knock, knock.

Mirembe’s eyes shot to the door, its chime dismissing her misery with a promise of her grandfather’s company. He was supposed to bring biscuits today. “I’ll get it!” She asserted, jumping to her feet and peeling the canvas from her stomach. She flung it to the side, briefly forgetting its former value, and shot to the door. A tug stopped her. Confused, she glanced at her Asah and frowned. “What?”

“Stay here,” they muttered and coaxed her toward her brother. Mirembe furrowed her eyebrows, slowly moving to her brother’s side. She felt a strange tension fill the air, a look passing between Eindrid and her parent.

“What’s going on–”

“Shh!” Eindrid hissed, pressing his finger to her lips. He then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. He peered around the corner, watching as their parents edged toward the front door.

Mirembe curiously mirrored him.

Their mother took the lead, Asah shortly behind with a weapon tucked into their belt. Diatre threw a deliberate nod to her partner, making a simple two-fingered gesture. Mirembe craned her neck to get a better look, but Eindrid pulled her back. Another round of knocks - these louder, angrier - silenced her. She watched as Diatre leisurely opened the door with a counterfeit smile dancing across her dark lips. But Mirembe sensed nothing but fear.

— Mirembe M’Ahar


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