Report

In Hershire Keep a frustrated man walked. Outside Hershire Keep, evenclusters, wonders of modern manufacture (rooms connected by closed tubes, forming the outline of polygons, held in the air by their attachment to a single pillar deep-sunk into the ground, the rooms arcing from the pillar in distance so they’re furthest at the level of its’ center and closest-bunched at its’ top and bottom), sparkle aside skyscrapers, air-recycler topped smokestacks, and cover some of the sun from the view of market squares, public ponds, children’s work factory’s, and private residences (built on top of underground lower-rent apartments) but are themselves several folds invisible opposite C.H. (Capital Hershire)’s Lonnies. A lonny is a cannon which fires rounds that are particularly devastating when impacting in low-atmosphere. Up one of the impractical eye-catching angles that make Hershire Keep Flewivz Chetzma stomped with a long gait.

“Capaulta Moniere! Are you here?”

“Be professional Relayer.”

The man who’s title latter-more was spoken reformed his hurried manner into one more suitable for a military report. Seeing not the expected stare but an eased waiting from Moniere he composes himself. Light, jangly, emotional movements disperse from his body, pouring out into the open room.

“I have come to deliver my annual report on the outermost ring of satellites’ recordings early under suspicion of impending invasion.”
Moniere takes in some seriousness that tightens his muscles and stills his body.

“Proceed.”

“370 of the satellites have failed to respond in their last contact cycle. I sent a checking signal and had the equipment checked to be sure it could send and receive on our end. None of the previously silent satellites responded yet an additional 49 from the outermost ring did not respond. Streams from the seventh ring have shown nothing in visible light spectra. But yellow-light imaging revealed Kapernaim and Wodremn forces have entered our space.” Flewivz thought Moniere was going to speak for a moment there. “Available details on the make-up of those forces, the log-times of these recording, and additional observations are recorded in the full brief”. Moniere shook hands with Flewivz so the brief was transferred to his wrist-memorizer.

“Why did you deliver this information personally?”

“Capaulta I didn’t really think about it, Capaulta. I wanted to be sure you received it, Capaulta, it seemed of enough significance to attend to personally. I was unsure of if an alternate form of message delivery would be read by you in satisfactory time.”

Moniere slapped his three-plane opposable thumbed palm against Flewivz’s corresponding nine digits.

“Synch your recorders into a single stream then send it to my wrist-memorizer. Dismissed.”

Moniere watched Flewivz fast-walk through the doorway. He thought about the report, accessible by his mind like a personal memory on the wrist-memorizer’s account. His first light consideration of the most impressive facts brought him to a plan: that evening he would give Praveler Hydduoss a preview of his conclusions at their dinner. {It’d been so long since they’d been able to catch up on personal unimportant matters…}. Moniere would also request that the 12 Pravelers of C.H. hold assembly tomorrow, a brief for other states be prepared, and the Altojo informed. Until dinner he would mobilize his traffi. Moniere was glad he had no family to worry about.

Sunsets that baked the clouds and set them to shimmering mixes of teal, aqua marine, and desert scarlet passed on C.H. Sporadic rain-spatters dappled isolated parts of the city. Plains to the west blurred into mists and mountains shone with the northbound sun.

Moniere was closing a conversation about some of the auxiliary implications of losing satellites for Qutrifha’s own troop movement when Flewivz asked him:

“Capaulta?”

“Yes, Relayer?”

“Grant of dropped title Capaulta?”

“Grant given.”

“May I know what the Pravelers decided at their convening?”

“I don’t see why not...everyone will know soon enough. They’ve decided the military will win the onslaught of battles upon us sufficiently well that evacuation will not be necessary.”

“Would it sound treasonous to say not even the Altojo can decide battles?”

“No Relayer that would sound rational. Is there anything else you’d like to know early? Much weighs on my mind.”

“Sorry, Capaulta. But as a Relayer, it’s my duty to inform you each measurement of the approaching forces has revealed more of them than previously counted. There is not enough material or man-power on-planet to defeat the force as numbered. Evacuation projections result in majority-casualties at this point but we have no viable defense.”

“I know Relayer…(lower, breathier) it is this consideration that makes my thoughts heavy. ”