Alm Residence - the home of the future.

  PesKal read on a stone and wood sign in front of a large estate. Encircled by hedges and forest, located some 3 kilometres from where PesKal had originally landed. He had been dragged by the carriage and horse-rabbit, which neighed as it was brought to a halt.

  Bemri strutted outside and heaved open a rusted metal fence, it creaked and groaned. A loud crack was followed by clattering, as the left side of the fence’s door fell to the ground.

  “There we go.” Bemri mumbled. “It happened just as I said it would… “

  “Leave it.” called Yim from the carriage. “We will fix it later.”

  “With what money?” Bemri mumbled again and got back into the carriage.

  They drove over the broken-down fence and onto the dirt and gravel road. It vined through a once magnificent courtyard, now overgrown and abandoned. Statues of heroic Miriani and wonderous beasts, entwined by sturdy plant-life, dominated the view.

  An aging mansion was at the endpoint of the road. Its roof peppered with unusual contraptions; PesKal identified a system of pullies and ropes which connected to a wooden windmill. Another apparatus stored water in a large tank, it was to be released in a controlled manner over a metal turbine connected to a small machine.

  As the mansion entered the scanner range fully, PesKal realised it was filled with electricity.

  Copper wires connected bulbs, motors, and pistons within a vast workshop. Lead-acid batteries were being charged by the kinetic energy of the creaking windmill.

  As the carriage reached it parking space in front of the large door leading into the workshop, its wheels pressed down on four pressure plates. The plates completed a circuit which lit several tungsten light-bulbs. Their orange light illuminated the front of the mansion, the carriage, PesKal’ cube, and the door.

  Bemri looked up at the light and cringed.

  “These things will burn out your eyes master Yim.” He said while rubbing his right eye. “I am already of poor seeing, you’re going to make me blind.”

  Yim countered while exiting the carriage: “Like I told you many times: don’t look directly at them! You wouldn’t look at the Suns, would you?”

  “I am not insane.” Bemri said simply.

  Yim looked at him with a tired expression and said: “Debatable.”

  He took a step towards the workshop’s door and paused. A mischievous expression spread across his face.

  “Oh Bemir?” Yim called, rubbing his hands together.

  “Yes?” Bemri asked pensively. He noticed the tone of Yim’s voice.

  “Would you mind opening the door?” Yim asked while he went to untie PesKal from the carriage. “My hands are full.” He said while holding the rope.

  Bemri gulped and looked at the lever which connected to the door’s opening mechanism. He walked slowly to the iron lever and peered at it.

  “It will not harm me - this energy?” Bemri asked.

  “No, it will not. Just don’t hold two ends of an exposed circuit, or get it wet, or get it too hot or cold, or shake it…” Yim stopped talking when he saw Bemri’s stricken expression.

  “Just pull the lever.” Yim said tiredly.

  As fast as possible for an aging Miriani, Bemri gripped the lever and pulled it down. He released the lever and jumped back.

  With a soft hum, the door began to rise.

  “Wasn’t too hard, was it?” Yim asked.

  Breathing hard, Bemri replied: “You chain the power of the Giant, Sir Yim…”

  “I chain no such thing.” Yim said and looked towards the Duchess. The gas giant’s atmosphere was turbulent, flashes of lightning littered its clouds.

  “I will figure you out as well.” Yim declared to the Duchess.

  Bemri was in awe at the apparent blasphemy. He did a quick motion with his left arm which the Miriani used to pray. “Giant’s grace guide him, he has lost his way. Giant’s mercy shield him, he incurs wrath…” Bemri continued quietly.

  Yim sighed and finished untying PesKal. He pushed the large cube into the workshop. It barely fit through the door. The cube went down a steep slope into the second subterran level.

  This side of the mansion contained three underground floors; they were dug out within the last four years to make space for the workshop – judging by the freshness of the walls and the relaxation of dirt. It contained machinery which would not be out of place in early 20th century on Terra. PesKal scanned abandoned designs for a functioning vacuum tube. The designs lay crossed over with ink, deep within a stack of papers on metal shelf.

  Remarkable. Matrioshka thought as she was led towards her holding cell.

  “This is an intelligent individual.” She told PesKal.

  He looked at Yim, who was staring at the cube bellow his hat.

  “Indeed. How do I proceed, captain?” PesKal asked.

  “Monitor his activity. Do not reveal anything else.” Matrioshka said and considered the state of Yim’s workshop. “Though you may guide him into an invention or two...”

  PesKal was delighted, his processing power spiked. “Understood captain.”

  Bemri had calmed and was leading the horse-rabbit to its pen.

  He yelled to Yim: “I will prepare dinner, my dear blasphemous master. Carrot-walnut stew?”

  “Yes, yes. Sound good.” Yim dismissed him without much thought. He closed the workshop door with another lever and produced a small metal tool from a drawer.

  He closed in on PesKal’s cube, which was now directly in the centre of the workshop. He placed the tool on its surface, and released a mechanism which hit the cube with a small steel bolt.

  The tool, most likely designed to measure the toughness of a material, clanked as it hit.

  Yim peered at the bolt, and depth markings on the side of the tool. He frowned. “What? No measurable deformation…”

  He inspected the tool and discovered the bolt had become blunt when it hit. Yim’s ears vibrated in surprise.

  “Tougher than steel?” he asked the cube. Yim ran to another drawer and produced two cables connected by a small machine. He connected one to a battery and the other to a corner of PesKal’s cube. Another pair of cables was used to connect the other end of the circuit.

  Yim was about to measure the cube’s conductivity.

  PesKal had to decide if he would be an insulator or conductor.

  Yim pressed a button on the small machine which completed the circuit. A small current now flowed through PesKal’s nanites.

  It tickled.

  Yim read out a value from the device and ran to a nearby desk. He wrote out the values on the device, and using some elegant mathematics, produced a version of the Ohm’s law – used to calculate voltage, current, or in Yim’s case, resistance. He extracted a value of several milliohms.

  “Negligible resistance? Like you aren’t even there…” Yim said. He closed his eyes and disconnected the circuit.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You aren’t of this world, are you?” he asked the cube.

  Alarms rang out in PesKal’s and Matrioshka’s mind.

  “Captain?” PesKal asked.

  “Relax, Officer PesKal. He is likely just guessing…” Matrioshka said.

  Yim sat down on a dusty pillow in front of the cube. PesKal was barely keeping his cool. The silence was interrupted occasionally by the sounds of sparking electricity and the hum of light-bubs.

  Bemri had lit the stove in the large kitchen which shared a wall with the workshop. He looked lonely - a large cupboard filled with hundreds of plates was to his left, and a small barrel filled with preserved goods to his right. Dutifully, he cleaned vegetables, chopped them, and began cooking.

  He used near dull knives and rusted pots and pans. Both PesKal and Matrioshka wondered at the state of the mansion. Supposedly Yim was wealthy, he had a personal butler after all, and lived in a large estate.

  In the royal palace, the two guards left Matrioshka alone in a medium sized room. The walls were of cool grey stone, the floors lines with soft wood. Carved airducts circulated air between the underground and the world above. Cabinets lined the walls, filled with papers and a surprising number of dried fruits. Matrioshka’s temporary prison seemed to be a break room.

  Matrioshka sat down on a pillow, as the guards stood watch in front of her door. She invited herself into PesKal’s virtual space.

  They both appeared next to Yim, both invisible to him.

  “A once in a generation inventor.” PesKal said, his head fins quivering from excitement.

  Matrioshka looked around and said: “More like once in a century. These are inventions it took Terran scientists over a century to create. And with joint effort…”

  “Alessandro Volta, 1799.” Matrioshka said, pointing towards the large lead-acid battery.

  She pointed towards an electric engine which moved the workshop door; “Michael Faraday, 1821.”

  “John Ambrose Fleming, 1904.” she said while she held a paper outlining the overall design of a vacuum tube.

  “Why is he living like this? This knowledge, this technology… The Miriani could become interplanetary within a century if they applied what existed here.” PesKal said.

  “They were interplanetary once before. If Bemri is anything to go by, they consider the use of electricity as blasphemy. They attribute its power to the Giant, the Duchess.”

  Yim had decided to test the thermal properties of the cube. Matrioshka and PesKal watched over his shoulder as he aimed a welding torch toward the cube. He lit it tentatively and backed away. The torch drained a container of acetylene gas it was connected too. Evident by the healed-over burn marks on his fingers, Yim had a history with fire. The torch produced a stable 1,980 °C flame.

  PesKal had to filter nanites out of the flame’s path so they would not degrade. He cycled them out completely when the torch ran out of power.

  Yim grabbed a nearby unlit candle. He touched the supposedly hot area of the cube with the candle’s body. The wax remained un-melted.

  He touched it then with his bare hand.

  “Cold.” he said while shaking his head.

  Matrioshka looked around. “Perhaps this would shed some light on his situation.” Matrioshka said and appeared next to a folded bundle of papers on a nearby desk. She picked up a virtual copy of the papers and showed them to PesKal.

  He read through them instantly.

  “His parents died.” PesKal said.

  Matrioshka nodded.

  The papers were an old newspaper.

  It was dated to four years ago. An article spoke of the Alm family and the untimely demise of Ju and Bene, Yim’s parents.

  Famed explorers and inventors, Jun and Bene died from lead poisoning while working on a way to harness the power of the Giant - the article said.

  They are succeeded by their one and only child: Yim Alm. The youngster, fresh from the Academy, now must deal with the debt to the King incurred by his parents. As you may remember dear reader, Ju Alm proclaimed the ability to generate and store the Giant’s graceful light. King Dend-Hayn accosted the inventor for his hubris, and challenged him to prove his claim. The Alm’s would have to give up 98 one-hundreds of their wealth if they failed the challenge.

  Only time will tell if Yim Alm can prove his parents’ claims. – the article finished.

  PesKal appeared next to the lead battery. “But he succeeded. Why did he give away his wealth?”

  Matrioshka shook her head. “Unclear. There are no written records of his reasoning within scanner range.”

  Yim continued to experiment on the cube for 28 minutes more. Matrioshka and PesKal observed him, often commenting on his ingenuity and determination. They took a stroll across the mansion when Yim grew frustrated and took a break.

  All three of them were startled when Bemri opened a small door leading to the workshop from the kitchen and yelled: “Dinner!”

  “Alright! Coming!” Yim grumbled but obeyed. PesKal scanned him and found his stomach near empty. This would be the Yim’s first meal in 33 hours.

  Yim and Bemri sat across from each other on the small wooden table in the kitchen. Bemri had prepared a Carrot-walnut stew, just as he said he would. He said nothing of the small banana-apple cake, which he placed atop parchment next to the stew when Yim sat. It exhaled steam, fresh from the oven.

  Yim looked at the cake, his hormones betraying a mix of sadness and joy.

  “Thank you Bemri.” Yim whispered.

  “Always, young master.” Bemri said.

  Yim’s stomach growled, and he attacked the stew. The hot food was nothing to Yim, he ate furiously.

  Bemri laughed. “Easy, Sir Yim. The food will not escape the table.”

  The two of them ate the stew, then they share the cake.

  Yim looked at Bemri over the bowl and asked: “So I take it… The sell went as planned? They paid the full amount?”

  Bemri looked troubled. “Yes.” he said. “500 silvers for an explosive device, custom made by the heir of the Alm family. I must say though, that man Halan, was not at all pleasant.”

  Aha! Matrioshka thought.

  PesKal noticed the change in her demeanour. “Captain?” he asked.

  “So, you know how I landed near the palace?”

  “You mentioned it, yes.” PesKal said.

  “Well…” Matrioshka said, slightly embarrassed. “I got roped into helping the prince evade assassins.”

  PesKal turned smug. “What happened to not interfering?” he asked.

  “I know, I know. But I had to do something…”

  PesKal nodded. “It’s different when you see it with you own eyes. It’s difficult to obey the Sanctuary Act, is it not?”

  Matrioshka was not ready yet to admit it was. She held her belief in the Imperium as a shield.

  “Anyway, I saw the use of a small explosive device; a bomb. I believe it was made by our dear inventor.” she said.

  PesKal searched the workshop. “There are indeed chemicals present here which match the scans you acquired just before the bomb detonated in the palace.”

  “It would be logical to assume Yim has been using his intellect to acquire funds, and since legal means have obviously failed him, he has resorted to selling weapons.” Matrioshka observed.

  “It would seem so.” PesKal said sadly.

  Back in the city, atop an abandoned building, Makoe was listening to Temri talk about an old coin. They both stood in front of three wooden shelves, above them stood various trinkets Temri had stolen. Some were too unique to sell, and other meant special things to Temri.

  This coin belonged to the unique category.

  “So, this old guy, really fancy looking, monocle and everything, actually stopped by a bar in this corner of the city.” Temri said.

  “He didn’t…” Makoe said, sensing it was time to be surprised.

  “He did. I still cannot figure out if he was brave or just ignorant. Anyway, by Giant’s good grace, I was in the bar at the time…” Temri stopped talking when she saw Makoe react.

  Temri’s head moved left to right in a Miriani gesture of mild annoyance. “I wasn’t drinking. Even if I did, nobody cares.”

  “I care.” Makoe said.

  Temri looked her in the eyes and decided she didn’t believe her. “Sure. As I was saying; there I was next to an obviously wealthy old man. I bump into him, finger into his coat, easy work...”

  “…and this was in his pocket. Nothing else.” Temri said, pointing at the coin.

  It was a mix of iron, silver, and gold, about twice the size of coins used by the Miriani.

  Matrioshka, thought her constant connection to Makoe, recognized the coin, as did Makoe.

  It wasn’t a coin at all. It was in fact - a medal. Lacking the ribbon, and with the design severely deteriorated, Temri understandably assumed it to be an old coin.

  With astonishment, Matrioshka and Makoe realised it was the same medal missing from the line-up back on Prudence. It was transported off-world, survived 6 millennia, and was now in front of Makoe.

  “I took it to a few reputable traders I know. None would give me an offer. So, I kept it.” Temri said.

  “What are the odds?” Makoe asked quietly.

  “Of us finding this particular missing object?” Matrioshka asked over their connection, already calculating. “1 in 13^17.”

  “Odds of what? Finding cool yet worthless junk?” Temri asked and waved at her shelf fool of trinkets. “High apparently…”

  The large iron bell atop Makoe’s bell tower began to toll. A strike was followed by five seconds of silence as the bell swung the other way. Makoe’s nanites vibrated gently with each strike. The toll travelled across the city, and was joined by others. Dozens of bell towers engulfed the city in a rhythmic ringing.

  Coded to follow the instinctual behaviour of the Miriani, the ears of the crew shot up, as did the ears of all the regular Miriani. Rhea first saw it on a woman whose bruise had badly infected, Makoe saw it on Temri, Damien on the students, Matrioshka on the two guards in front of her door.

  The bell towers were distant from Yim and Bemri, their tone dulled, but nevertheless both Yim and Bemri’s ear’s reacted.

  “This is it.” PesKal said into the crew-wide channel.

  “Yup.” Damien declared.

  “It is as you described in the data pack, Officer PesKal.” Rhea said. “The Miriani do not expose themselves to the light of their stars.”

  “It goes even further.” PesKal added. “The vast majority do not venture outside at all during daylight. For half the time, the Miriani live exclusively below ground.”

  “Looks like we are finally going to see the other side of the city.” Makoe said.

  Yim and Bemri had already finished up their meal. They put back their plates for later cleaning and made their way to the subterran levels of the mansion.

  The students and faculty of the Academy gathered their things and went to the staircase. They moved a few floors down into the much larger subterran part of the Academy. Even the guards, who stood careful watch over the Academy grounds, left their stations. Damien eyed the students passing him by, on their way down, and followed suit.

  Temri’s ears were vibrating with surprise. “It’s that late already!?” she half screamed. “Quick!” Temri said, left all her possessions, and ran out of her shack.

  Makoe followed her down into the basement of the abandoned building, where a tight dirt tunnel led to the extensive network of streets and underground rooms.

  “You left all of your things.” Makoe said as they squeezed through the passage.

  Temri looked at her like she was insane. “Yeah... Nothing will happen to it...”

  Rhea was led by Memri into the underground as well, where she would continue her examinations.

  Within the next 5 minutes, not a single Miriani could be seen on the entirety of Highcrown.

  The Empress was the first, her golden light emerged from behind the Duchess.

  “Giant protect us…” Bemri prayed.

  A living star’s gaze, capable of killing planets, engulfed Rosamond’ World.

  The ground shook, and a thunderous voice resolved across Highcrown;

  In a unified and thunderous voice, shaking the atmosphere, the Empress said: “Blessed be the Day.”

  Daynight was over - Day has begun.