Serix

Colony 01 | Outdoors | The Festival of Sparkles and Rarity

The huge outdoor area set up for the Sparkles and Rarity music festival was bathed in lights. Night was soothing, the lights dimmed, and the colony's skyline set to transparent, allowing the black and endless stars to consume the big sky. Serix didn’t care that the whole area was man made, and the sky was fake and everything was fake, all created for the festival, it was beautiful! The air buzzed with the chorus of Skolexari instruments: synth-stringed harpas, echo drums, and that low, vibrating pulse that could only come from root-frequency bass arrays planted deep into the earth. His sensitive pointed ears picked up on the vibrations, it moved through his whole body. If someone asked him, he'd have admitted with a smile it totally turned him on. Music was about the vibrations, the feeling, as much as the tune. Thousands of people danced barefoot on glowing fungal mats, bioluminescent strands trailing behind every movement like streaks of paint across a living canvas.

Serix stood near the outer edge of the main stage, t-shirt damp with sweat, stubby pastel green ponytail bouncing as he laughed at something a stranger shouted over the music. The second he stepped into the music, every weight melted off his back. Out here, he wasn’t a soldier. He was just another green-skinned face in the crowd, swaying under the starlit canopies and letting the beat wash his cells.

A bottle of chilled nectarfruit fizz was tied to his belt, and he sipped from it casually, skin subtly glowing in a relaxed wash of golden-green. He'd make his way back in later, all the way to the front of the stage but he'd already been dancing for hours and wanted a break.

His eyes flicked over the crowd, bright and curious. Then he paused, head tilting slightly. Someone stood across from him, half-lit in the technolights, just out of the dance fray. Someone he felt he wanted to smile with. It was just a feeling, but he was in the mood. I’m following it, he thought. Everyone was here to dance and vibe, mood was good, luck was there.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “Hey!” He called out, jogging over to them. He was lean, even a bit lanky, his hard athletic muscle that of a soldier’s- no body fat but he had big open green eyes that were happy, if not a little mischievous. “I really love your outfit, you’re a standout, like the only star in the sky. Is that what you wanted?” He brushed the back of his hand over a thick band of dark freckles coating the bridge of his nose and both cheeks.

Some awful little world, so faraway from home…

Everything was grey. Grey and cold, he could feel it through his exosuit. It had to be cold as the curse's heart, as his mom would say. His unit had obliterated the life-support systems hours ago and now swarmed on the traitor’s camp (a mix of Okti’nak and brainwashed youth).

Serix was Xan'dorith, one of the elite, those who kept other Skolexari safe from those among them who would sow pain and ally with enemies in the name of ill-beliefs. The lighting was flickering, broken. The air had that firecracker smell he’d loved as a kid, he still loved it, but not when it was mixed with blood. No music. No laughter. Just the low crackle of electrical fires and the crunch of plastics underfoot.

“Orren, lights ahead, right.” Serix said, softly.

Orren, snarling under his mask cut right, like a robot, while clutching his huge gem-sword. He was one of the re-born warriors, those who wanted to fight on foot with swords and have a personal connection to those they killed. Not Serix, he’d stick with firearms.

Serix moved hunched, clutching his long dark gun, through the remains of the rebel compound, exosuit sealed and glowing faintly orange along the edges, rifle steady in his hands. Nocti flanked left. Orren was ahead, silent, and taking the lead. Orders had been clear: No survivors. But orders always called for no survivors.

There was a body slumped against the wall, a young Skolexari woman with lime green-skin opened up at her shoulder, fingers twitching. Serix stepped in front of her. The wounded girl looked up, eyes full of fear and something else. Serix raised his weapon and fired into her heart, he couldn’t shoot females in the head. She jerked. It was clean, sometimes he pretended they weren’t really dead. Her fault, she’d made the wrong choice. These Skolexari could not be trusted, he had to keep his people safe. Like Nocti always said. They kept normal people clean.

Ahead of him Orren paused at the entrance to a room and then went inside, Serix could hear screaming. He moved past the room without looking in, feeling Nocti right by him and the other two members of his unit behind.

"He likes it." Nocti said.

"He doesn't." Serix hissed.

"He likes it." Nocti repeated, harder.

"Shut up." Orren grunted. Already out, he passed them again. Sword slick with neon blue blood.

“Why is everyone half dead already?” Serix asked.

“Vivvy found a Xhakendorn in a cage and let it out when you cleared the east wing,” Orren answered, never looking back. It always amused Serix that the most serious of their squad was the shortest, but he’d never say it to Orren’s face.

“Chomp, chomp.” Nocti smiled wider.

Serix’s lean face filled with his easy long smile, “You guys are wild, I love you, but don’t do that. What if it had found its way to the east wing?”

Nocti stopped and turned fully towards Serix, “Shoot it, dumbass?”

Orren chuckled.

Serix laughed, and the three of them closed in, moving into a natural formation without anything needing to be said. The moment had passed, the hunt resumed. Ahead the hall was too dark, and the Xhakendorn lay dead in the middle of the hall. Its large reptilian form twisted around almost in a perfect C. They were held up, ahead. Time for a fight.

Serix pecked away at his personal comm-device, sitting by the window of the cafe as sun poured in. The tall silver spires of the city gleamed like blades. He looked up, a smile appearing even though he was alone.

Rooted here and now. Everything beautiful in its eternal simplicity. He’d trained himself to notice. Seeking the good things in everyday life was his mental balm. He picked up the glazed latte and licked salted foam from the side with a green tongue before he made eye contact with another patron at the cafe.

Serix winked. “Hey.” He motioned for the stranger to come over, first towards him and then extended his long-fingered hand towards the empty seat across from him. He had the day off, but Orren and Nocti were busy. Orren locked into training new Reborn Warriors, while Nocti said he wanted to terrorize a little sugar butt he’d won over at a bar last weekend. Serix didn’t comment; Nocti was always aggressively after something or someone.

He’d been about to call family members, since he had a lot of them, though everyone was off-colony, back on the homeworld, but he’d rather make a new friend, if he could. His short green hair was just long enough to be pulled into a stubby ponytail, and a thick band of freckles lay over the front of his face, a perfect banner, brushing both cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

He motioned again, "Come, come on, you."

Night in Silver Spine. Military Skolexari worked on clocks, everything ticking and timed. The ever present routine and checking of lists, but Serix wasn’t much of a list-checker. A late walk called to him, not out of nightmares or any negative emotion. He liked the way the city looked at night; it seemed magical. With all imperfections hidden, transformed into a landscape of twinkling silver. The spires were copied from the homeworld. Several had been made and shipped here, installed generations ago. He loved to look at them, pieces of home, connecting the original colony to the very heart of the universe. He remembered from childhood, his parents had taken him to see the capital city, glistening spires like captured lightning jolting not from the sky but the earth, immortalized in metal. And we have pieces of it right here. What could be better than that? he thought.

Breathing in deep cool air, he rolled his shoulders back and held his chest out, full of air. One, two, three, exhale. Good. The tall, lean Skolexari rubbed his thumb across his nose and backed up against a bench, he was just about to sit when he heard a strange nose. With sensitive ears locked in, he stilled, listening.

Breath, uncomfortable, shifting.

“Hello?” Serix moved closer to the noise. It might be a lost child or maybe someone’s pet had escaped. More likely, it was what he didn’t want it to be… a warrior having a psychological breakdown, or a drunk, and he’d have to talk them down, but whatever it was he’d deal with it. He was strong, inside and out. He tracked the fragile sound, part of him knowing Nocti and Orren would have scolded him, but he didn’t want to mind his own business. His gut told him he needed to look.