Home World Reax: Home World Series, #4

By Rhobin Lee Courtright

Maera escaped the future planned for her on Reax, so what could make her return?

At eighteen, Meara would do anything to escape the abuse she endured in Falcon House on her home world of Reax. An Engagement assignment off world to prove herself a capable Falcon ensured her release. She only stayed long enough to make sure her one best friend made it back to Reax.

Nine years later, war and plague have decimated Reax. When proof is discovered of a renegade Falcon, Jencet is sent to bring her back to Reax. It might be difficult, as Maera is now a citizen and war hero of the powerful United Planets Alliance, a government powerful enough to take over Reax.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613093320

Book preview

One

Return and Escape

The longest and hardest part of the journey ended with the thinning of the forest of grass, but the tall spikes still soared overhead. A few steps took Maera out of the all-encompassing grass. Standing near the edge of a cliff of ancient volcanic rock, she checked her location on her connex, returned to her upon completion of her assignment. She had found the right place. A deep breath helped slow her labor-induced panting. She let her head roll to the back of her neck allowing her a view of the stark sky. Relief washed over her, stopping her obsessive counting of her breaths, her steps, the distance traveled, and the clouds in the sky. If she could, she would have counted the blades of grass. Now she needed to stay focused. Her future began here.

Anticipation entered into her mind while her body briefly rested. In that moment, the day’s heat beat on her skin; the sun’s brilliance invaded through her closed eyelids. Wafting scents emitted from her sweating body, the aromatic grass, and the pungent dusty soil filling her nose. It was time. She turned to face the grass sea behind her. I’m not going back.

Her declaration broke the subtle sound of chirping insects in the grass. The blades concealed Sareen in the twisting path Maera had forged through the spikes during this dangerous walk. Her pattern of taking a step and pushing the grass blades to the right and pushing to the left with the next step had created a jagged path behind her. She heard Sareen’s movements. The sound proved her friend not too far behind. Her worry about Sareen lagging behind in the lofty blades of grass eased.

Talkative Sareen’s silence indicated the long walk’s tiring difficulty. While hazardous, the walk let them arrive at the port faster than Ubret’s public transportation. They would have had to wait another day for that, meaning Sareen might have missed the shuttle to Reax, especially since the crew would not be expecting Sareen but only the two tyros legitimately placed on Ubret.

Although silent now, for much of the journey Sareen’s talk had consisted of her overwhelming delight at returning home. Maera grinned. She could usually locate her friend by her chatter. Maera knew Sareen had never believed she would live through Engagement, the last test all genome candidates took as tyros. Now she had even achieved a good rating. Sareen had proven herself and earned neophyte ranking in her house. Jubilation had filled her friend’s voice earlier, before the walk tired her.

Sudden laughter floated through the air from where Maera had expected. Of course you are, Maera. Wait up.

Looking up, Maera noted the intense sun, like her life, floated halfway to its zenith. She took another deep breath and felt her lungs fall into a normal pattern. Sweat-glued strands of hair clung uncomfortably to her forehead. With her fingers she swept the hand-length strands off her damp forehead and enjoyed the brief cooling sensation. Her discomfort and fatigue amounted to nothing. Throughout this hard, long walk to the port, her mind had hummed in expectation. Today her game of deception ended. Another adventure began. Experience had taught her if she understood why something happened, she could plan how to avoid any penalty, like the consequences she avoided now.

She put a hand over her eyes and looked downward to where their journey ended. Her boss told her once they reached this place, to follow through the grass along the cliff’s edge until she found the post at the head of the downward trail.

She looked back through the forest of grass. If she felt tired, what exhaustion must Sareen feel? She waited until Sareen approached.

Her friend’s hair glowed as golden as the fluffy blooms waving far above her head, but sweat-darkened strands lined her face, and exhaustion framed her being. Sareen’s abundant and long blonde curls differed from her own straight brown wisps that emerged further than usual down her neck, but never seemed to grow much longer than the straggly disordered hand-lengths it now displayed. She also noted the sun’s vicious onslaught had reddened Sareen’s fair skin despite the lathered-on protectant.

From Sareen’s expression, Maera knew her friend did not believed her. Trust Sareen to gloss over anything unpleasant. Her friend could not imagine anything better than returning home, receiving acknowledgement as a neophyte in her house, acquiring her tattoo, earning novice status, and finally achieving the prescribed, carefree but dedicated life dictated by her house, her realm, and the Dominion Conclave. Their childhoods had differed. Maera could not imagine anything worse.

Once started, Sareen babbled on. We’re almost there, almost done. It’s like a miracle. If we weren’t meant to be friends forever, we would never have found each other like this.

A dangerous topic. She had kept Sareen ignorant of how dangerous.

Maera sighed and looked away, hoping her exertion in the day’s heat hid her facial reaction. Pungent sweat covered her friend, too, and Sareen’s quick breaths showed how she had strained to keep pace. She probably would not notice. When Sareen’s chatter continued, oblivious of her own restraint, Maera smiled. She had never understood why her house had never accepted her, but she had worked hard to escape. It had evolved into a game. Long ago she’d discovered how to win.

Sareen finally stopped next to her, her rapture at her success driving her. But we did, and we’ve managed to survive so far... It’s so hot... She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and then fluttered her tunic to let air in next to her skin. ...and dusty, she added. Swiping at her clothes to knock off the pollen-laced dust, she remained unaware her sweat had streaked the gold and purple pollen particles across her face. I’ll be so glad when this Engagement is over. Until this minute, the past year has felt like ten. She raised her joy-filled gaze to Maera. I’m so excited. I never believed we would make it. Now I’m going home. She gloated in self-satisfaction. Until you showed up, I knew I’d die.

No, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. When your family never showed you kindness, like me, you gave your loyalty and liking to the one who did. After a few minutes’ rest, in which Sareen never stopped talking about their achievement, Maera asked, Have you caught your breath?

At Sareen’s nod, Maera stepped back into the grass and continued pushing through the sharp-edged spears lining the cliff’s edge, forcing a path through the thick and resistant stalks with her armor-covered arms. Her Engagement had built her strength and her commitment to finish a task. She had enjoyed completing the assignments given her, which her boss had clearly thought she would fail. When she prepared to leave, he told her, You have earned status as a grassier, and gave her a set of arm-armor in recognition. The first respect she had ever earned. Her arms wore trophies.

Red and purple stripes streaked the otherwise green soaring blades. Golden seed heads filled with pollen released a distinct sweet-sour scent as she toppled the blades. They blades grew rapidly through everything. Only bedrock, the thickest paving, or like here, a cliff’s edge, stopped the grass’s advance. Luckily, thick, peeling sheaths covered the lower section of the stems, rendering them harmless. That part even provided a tasty and nutritious meal.

Sareen’s chatter followed her again. I’ve never been outside so much in my life as I have been this last year while watching children. Their mothers always asked me if I took them for outdoor play. Do you suppose that, because our ancestors came on a generation ship, we don’t like going outside, even after all this time? Do our gen’rals feel that way since they work outside so much? It has given me a new perspective. Outside isn’t as bad as I believed. You went outside even more than I did. How could you endure it?

She sighed. Every home world has its perils, even Reax, and those perils come in many forms. Who wants a world without challenge? Besides, my situation forced me outdoors on Reax more often than you.

You went outdoors?

Catching her breath, Maera answered, Uslina never allowed me to take the transport from Falcon House to school, so I walked. While friends, they came from different houses, so she only met Sareen in certain venues, and never at the places where she took shelter to escape from her house, like the gen’rals neighborhoods. If anyone had ever discovered that, not only would the severity of her punishments have increased, but the people, the gen’rals, who helped her, would also have suffered.

Still, the native grass provided the Ubret colony profit. The upper blades, once treated, created many long-lasting items from tents to furniture to clothing, some of which she wore. Luckily, the day’s heat had caused the sharp-edged blades to wilt. Once pushed away, the stalks remained in that position and would linger so until evening’s cooling brought them erect again. She had hated wearing the all-encompassing protection gear harvesting necessitated during the sun’s midday strength. While the grass kept the ground cool enough to make uncomfortable travel possible, the sun baked all exposed parts of her body. Sweat continually trickled down her back. Today it ended. Today she and Sareen had started at dawn’s light and now neared their destination. Her intervention had placed them together in one of the rural areas far from any of the planet Ubret’s main cities where the two other Reax tyros worked through their Engagements. Like most of Ubret, this small backwash community’s inhabitants shunned most technologies, which had led to this difficult return trip. Yet, their placement had protected Sareen from direct Reax surveillance and herself from the preordained elimination placement given her.

Unable to prevent her smile, she imagined a few of the Engagement councilors’ expressions when they learned of Sareen’s return. No one ever counted on her shy and kind friend’s charm, gentleness, and willingness to help. In a small farm community desperate for workers, her traits guaranteed acceptance. Sareen’s small and fragile frame could not withstand the rigors of working as a grassier, but it freed several farmers’ wives of childcare to work the fields, and Maera had welcomed the hard, outdoor work.

Stopping, she glanced back at the tall grass hiding the landscape, so different from Reax’s more fern and moss-like native plants, which bore a strong soapy scent when crushed. Like Ubret, Reax’s native plants provided valuable products both for the home world and for interplanetary trade. Now imported human-compatible plants increasingly took over. That happened here on Ubret, too.

She stopped at a metal post inserted along the path and recognized the olive green weatherproof coat covering the metal as a Reax product. This post indicated the beginning of the twisting downward path to the port area below. Maera exhaled in relief. From this viewpoint, the land sloped sharply away. Turning, she viewed the land through the grass blades along the cliff’s edge where the deep, supportive roots webbed into a wall that prevented landslides and protected walkers from having the soil dissolve under their feet. Their journey’s end neared. Sareen’s return to safety reached completion, and the beginning of her own journey to liberty neared.

Nothing seemed worse to Maera, as a half-breed, than returning to Reax, not when freedom came within her grasp. No one from the Falcon or Swan Houses expected either of them to return, nor did the Genome Council’s Engagement Committee. They had purposely sent Sareen to this location, anticipating her failure. Well, not exactly this location, but one more hostile than this place, and me to one far more dangerous.

Sareen would return, and they would accept her back, look closer at her genome, and perhaps scratch their collective heads. Luckily, she would not return. Her cavalier rearrangement of assignments would never come to the council’s knowledge. Her situation of being ‘unseen’ and marginalized ended. Now she began a life dedicated to achieving her own goals.

Sareen’s Engagement dislocation they would attribute to a mix-up in assignments, and who but the swaggering Wolf House’s Vulk, one of the councilor’s sons originally assigned an easy location on Ubret, should serve Sareen’s much harsher assignment? The young man most likely had survived his Engagement, so his merit would certainly increase. Maera grinned at the thought. That young man had bragged about his easy placement location. It made a lie of the committee’s claims of fair assignments based on assessments. Which made her own return too dangerous an act of defiance. She wondered if her house had specifically asked for a terminating assignment. Did hateful Uslina have influence there? Had the Genome Council cleansed the houses of unwanted genomes throughout the ages through this ploy? She believed it. House tyros who refused placement went to the gen’rals, condemning their children to life outside any house.

It no longer mattered. She could not afford to go back, not after all her illegal snooping and modification in protected databanks, nor did she want to return. She wanted escape. Freedom. Her homecoming would have sparked an investigation, and even one tiny thread unraveling could entangle her in a mass of trouble. Her failure to return would please many. They would call it proof she did not deserve house recognition.

If Falcon House had unintentionally taught her anything, it taught her survival. And self-reliance, she amended. Truth to tell, her house accepted neither her genome half nor her wild, unknown half. From her aunt’s harshness, she had learned how to avoid and escape bad situations, how to help herself, how to prevent others from discovering she helped herself, and most important, how to keep secrets... and how to discern them.

Learning the Genome Council orchestrated who passed Engagement only confirmed her suspicions. It did not matter anyway. She did not care about the members’ secrets, except how they might have affected her and Sareen. That she achieved—safe return for her friend, self-determination for herself.

She heard Sareen approach and stop next to her. Maera turned her face toward the far off horizon, giving Sareen time to recover from the last segment of their walk. Finally, she lowered her gaze to Sareen. Her friend’s gaze looked downward, encompassing the port, her tired satisfaction in her achievement apparent. Maera could not hide the self-satisfied smile she felt cover her face.

I’m not joking, Sare. I’m not going back. That life is for you and the other genome pures.

You should not use that gen’rals slur, especially as we go home, Sareen said in a very soft, non-confrontational voice of warning. You don’t know who you could offend.

Maera shrugged. A few unmentionable gen’rals had helped her survive. She started brushing the dust off her pant legs. Thoughts of past hurts and future dreams wrapped in a tumbling jumble of anticipation she could taste. Anyhow, even if I did return, they’d probably only find cause to send me to the gen’rals. You know they would. I wouldn’t even mind that, not the supposed shame, or nothing else. She looked at Sareen, Except I have other plans. Her voice throbbed with an excitement hard to hide.

Sareen’s distressed gaze made contact everywhere except Maera’s eyes, showing her evasive agreement with the prognosis.

Maera raised a hand over her eyes to look at the view below them. The port spread in a vast meadow of architecture, machinery, and paved confusion, the only place on Ubret where technology reigned. People going places and doing things filled the area. Maera wanted to run, jump, and leap her way there.

She side-glanced at Sareen, read the stubborn look, and then looked at the spaceport again. It’s just, Sare. Really it is. I want this. You want to go back. That’s just, too.

I’ll go with you. We can’t waste a miracle.

Sareen’s words, barely above a whisper, interrupted Maera’s speeding anticipation. She spoke without thought. No miracle, Sare. Then she realized her admission. Sareen still believed their meeting a sheer accident.

Closing her eyes, Maera sighed. I should have expected this. Medical oriented Swan House bred, after all, for compassion and fidelity. Maera opened her eyes and regarded Sareen. Tears coursed down Sareen’s cheeks, and her distress made her sun-reddened skin even more conspicuous.

Maera swallowed hard. Oh, Sare, you’re the perfect Swan. Blonde, blue-eyed and loyal, but look at me—I’m a too-tall Falcon House half-breed, with eyes so colorless they call them nothing eyes.

They’re silver, not nothing. Sareen stood with her resolve broken in tearful misery, answering what she thought bothered her friend the most. And your hair is Falcon color.

Maera sighed softly and spoke even softer. Sare, you don’t want to come with me. You belong on Reax. And you needn’t worry about me; but there is this, Sare, and listen close, because it’s real important.

Sareen looked at her through tear and sweat clumped lashes.

Sare, you can’t tell them about us. Not how we accidentally met on Engagement, and not how I chose to leave. Not ever.

Will they look for you?

Maera snorted at Sareen’s hopeful expression. Not likely. At least I don’t think so. They would fail to follow my Engagement assignment, as their technology would have problems there, too. She grimaced, knowing they would believe she died with no proof. No one would look for her. She felt a brief, stinging hurt. They might, though, take it out on you. Maera watched Sareen to make sure she understood. Give you a poor rating, and an even poorer neophyte placement and maybe no novice assignment or something like that. So promise me, okay? She watched the conflicting emotions wash over Sareen’s face.

Okay, Maera, I promise. Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. But I will miss you dreadfully.

She gave Sareen a hug and tried to control her own urge to cry. You’re the only one who will, Sare, and I’ll miss you, too.

I’ll worry about you. Sareen headed down the path toward the port entrance. How can you survive out here? You’re only eighteen.

I have plans...and we survived, didn’t we? I can go on the same as we have. Hey look, that’s the Reax shuttle landing now. Maera pointed at the colony port. She hugged her friend then shoved Sareen forward. Don’t look back, Sare, just go.

Sare looked back anyway. Goodbye, Maera. Promise me you’ll send me news of yourself, please?

She choked back her response with an effort, but said unemotionally, Sure, Sare. As I can. Get going. May the Deity and the Neophyte Committee give you a good life.

Sareen turned and took the long walk toward the port, the air changing from the grass laden scent to a more acrid and metallic one. Maera covertly followed. She kept Sareen in sight until her friend showed her hand for identification at the shuttle’s boarding area, the first neophyte to return to the ship. Maera recognized the Eagle House crewman inspecting Sareen. He appeared displeased, or maybe surprised, with Sareen’s return at this port, but he let Sareen into the waiting area. Just so. Maera grinned.

Maera hurried from the port’s front access, returning to where she and Sareen had talked for the last time. Crouching down on the edge of the tall grass, she laughed until her tears flowed free. Sareen would have fainted if she had known, but Maera had already found her future. It began in this port six hours from now on a transport to Starbase Ether.

Six weeks ago, she had walked into the United Planets Alliance Embassy on Ubret, and as bold as summer thunder, declared herself one of their war orphans. The Alliance representative had asked a few questions and accepted her at face value. Such deception took research, at which she excelled. Passing their competency test with ease, she had already earned a school post since she also agreed to join the Alliance’s army branch, the Rangers.

Like she told Sareen, she had plans.

USLINA PREENED FROM where she stood a few steps to the left of her brother-in-law, Falcon House Leader Tyb. The Falcons standing below and in front of them proved her social eminence. As House Matron, she had earned her presence on the podium. Although the spouse of the former leader, the current Leader Tyb’s older brother, Tyb’s wife had died, leaving her the title. The title gave her influence within the house and the respect of all Falcons. She glanced around the great hallway. Tyb’s children, her nephew Duvan and his useless sister Veda, lacked that respect. Near the back of the hall, Duvan stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The father and son had a somewhat rocky relationship. She smiled. Rumor could accomplish such amazing results.

Tyb had not invited Duvan to stand on the stage, and now Duvan glared at Tyb. Veda, Duvan’s sister, remained brainless and near comatose in her care room. She wondered if Duvan knew how expendable he was. Tyb and Duvan had shared angry words earlier...over Maera. Why Duvan felt his niece’s failure to return from Engagement needed announcing, she did not understand. No one had expected her back. She had insured the girl’s failure. As part of her House Matron’s duty, she helped select Engagement sites for Falcon tyros. Tyb never even glanced at the listing when she had presented it to him but signed off on all.

Uslina applauded the names of those who had returned as Tyb finished announcing the six of the seven tyros sent out on Engagement. All Falcons not out of the house on constabulary assignment filled the audience hall, and applauded the successful completion of Engagement for those standing on the podium. The six had returned to house grounds very early this morning and stood behind the house leader, smiling at the acknowledgment of their successful return. After leaving the podium, they would finish the inauguration process and receive their Falcon House tattoos. The tattoo indicated their true membership in the house, and established the beginning of their careers as Falcons.

Tyb refused to mention his granddaughter’s name, saying, The brat failed. She has stained my honor as house leader, as well as Falcon House. Maera’s failure meant her name would never appear on house records as a true Falcon. All Falcons would soon forget her. She would not hold even a footnote in Falcon history. Her ignoble death suited the stupid, ungrateful, ugly half-breed...a perfect and deserved ending. Uslina noticed two harsh stares aimed at her, one from Duvan, and one from Keerse, an ordinary Falcon holding no power at all.

She knew why Duvan looked that way. Her nephew felt her cheer for the new neophytes ill placed considering Maera’s death. He could not understand her happiness came from knowing that Veda’s half-breed bastard would find no place in her mother’s house. Why she received such a look from Keerse she did not know or care. Maybe she had upset some plan he held, probably to claim Maera as mate and step into line for house leadership. She huffed; he was not the only one who had aspired to claim Maera. She had thwarted them all.

After greeting each neophyte, she calmly left the audience hall and went to the care center. One room held Veda’s living remains, but the occupant’s mind remained vacant. Uslina bent over, smiling into the empty eyes and whispered to her niece. She failed, bitch.

Straightening, she looked around the room, glad she did not have to visit often. A few images of Veda’s failed tyro daughter sat on a small shelf. She picked them up and ripped them to pieces, enjoying the pleasure it gave her. She would take the pieces to the recycle so no evidence of her act remained. Her husband Tyb’s first wife and Veda proved her skill at that.

Two

An Eagle Among Ravens

Nine Years Later

Jencet stood in the proscribed position behind the Dominion Primus’s chair in the Genome Chamber. The Dominion Conclave’s governing meeting would begin soon. Dakeene, the Primus, remained behind the leadership office’s door to his left, waiting for the scheduled time for the Eminent Assembly to begin. At her age, as chief minister of the Dominion Conclave and the leader of Raven House, Dakeene needed both his support and protection.

Among all those waiting for Eminent Assembly to begin, rules allowed his position alone to wear visible armament. For a colony established in peaceful intent, violence had erupted in these chambers too many times to ignore prohibitions against weapons.

Yet he often wondered what concealed weapons passed through the detectors, especially today. Every house leader held a baton of office, sculptured with each house’s specific sacred symbols, or had already laid it on the desk before them. Many of the house leaders’ devices looked more like weapons than emblems of rule, and even those that seemed harmless could easily conceal a weapon.

As he watched the representatives gather, he observed their formal attire as dictated by their house. Some wore ornate and detailed finery like the multicolored, shiny-patterned robes of Serpent House Leader Ilkas. Others, like Falcon House Leader Duvan in his dark red and brown uniform-like garb, or Dolphin House Leader Phin’s grey and white, wore close-fitting, sober colored suits. A few wore bold colors like Horse House Leader Uton’s gold, or flowing attire like Swan House Leader Kreta’s rippling gown. More often than not, all representatives’ clothing bared the left shoulder to show the house tattoo. He did not because he wore two tattoos from two different houses, which, for once, failed to increase his ambivalence about his position.

The tense conduct of the representatives proved this gathering differed from previous ones. Even the atmosphere vibrated with tangible emotion. He observed both the hesitant and resolute movements in the room. The same ambivalence filled him, warring with his dutiful need to remain inviolate. This only deepened his brooding mood.

Luckily, filters made the air in the chamber breathable. The putrid stench of decaying bodies still hung throughout Essence City. Even to this day residents still discovered those the plague had killed, and the crematoriums only added to the stink. At least people forced outside no longer puked from the smell.

Today the chamber felt more austere, and not due just to its décor. It was built centuries ago by the original colonist and the leaders thought the severe dignity would help future generations remember the importance of their mission. Reax had plenty of iron and carbon to make steel, but the planet’s unique plants provided the structure’s extra strength, flexibility, and endurance. Differing tones of grey and green colored the chamber. The chamber’s fixtures, while plain, remained unique in quality and design with their subtle grayish-green covering provided by Reax’s unique material. Hundreds of embedded windows filled the arched ceiling of the dome, illuminating the chamber with daylight. Still, chandeliers hung, nearly floated, from the chamber’s upper reaches, adding needed light and ambiance on dark days like today. The outer darkness only increased Jencet’s inner gloom.

As with this morning’s duty, his work frequently required long periods of immobile standing. A hard-earned achievement, yet one he had accomplished. It had provided him many opportunities to observe and contemplate what he witnessed. Once released from guard-stance duty, he always felt the need to move, to run, or train for an equally extended time. Today his imposed posture made him speculate, again, on just why Dakeene had requested him. Was it for his intimidating size alone? Which he knew she considered both a weapon and a defense.

As a former Eagle, he had inherited his house’s physical and perceptive abilities, which unsettled many of the other house genomes no matter the variety of their own genome’s distinctions. Merely standing next to another house inhabitant often caused that person distress. Even more so when he stood directly in front of them and stared down into their faces.

Stop! I accepted Dakeene’s offer, and I wanted release from Eagle House. No Eagle, even one now a Raven, had ever held this positon.

Luckily, he did not possess an inherently violent temper, a problem with some in his former house. The military aspect of Eagles House’s mission made aggressive behavior accepted and often expected. While smart and perceptive, Eagles seldom matched Ravens’ mendacity and cunning. Ravens excelled at politics. Dakeene also knew his strict Eagle ethics often found her Raven conniving distasteful.

He huffed softly. Dakeene’s choice had let him solve one problem and led to another, but he seemed an unwise choice on Dakeene’s part, for he’d never learn Raven craftiness or manipulation nor wanted to, nor did he look like Raven House breeding. He had served this sentence for three intolerable years, often wondering how much longer he could last.

As he regarded those in the chamber, the gen’rals’ slurs of ‘breeds’ and ‘pures’ flickered through his thoughts. Truthfully, appearance often identified house members by their features and physical appearance, their dress, and certain behaviors. The gen’rals never said it within hearing of a house member. He believed the gen’rals used the insult to indicate the commoners’ desire to cast off the houses. While the gen’rals believed their insult secret, the houses had heard it, and labeled it the mundane ramblings of the unimportant. Some of the elites gathering on the floor below even laughed at the label, saying it displayed the commoners’ appropriate acknowledgement of their superiors.

Looking at those milling on the chamber’s floor, he knew the label true. He could identify the members by their house and even their realm, for distinct characteristic marked them, just as his tall build, platinum hair, thin lips, indented chin, and aquiline nose identified him as an Eagle.

Selective breeding had developed those in this chamber for specific traits named after the ancestral creatures of Earth, perhaps even mythic or extinct as none of these creatures had ever existed on Reax. The house tattoos and other house emblems often differed from the known images of the Earth creatures. The realm names came from ancient Earth beliefs too, humans being dependent on land, air, energy, and water. Features the first colonists had searched to find for a new home planet. Reax had them, but it made him wonder if the Reax governing titles amused those from Earth and their Alliance Allies.

A sudden shout caught his attention. Those involved, representatives from Bear House and Wolf House, squabbled over seating placement. They saw him watching and quickly backed away from each other. Today, uneasy feet tread the floor of the great Luminary Edifice’s Genome Chamber, where he stood and the Domain’s Eminent Assembly met. This uneasiness afflicted everyone wandering the Edifice’s many hallways. Since Reax’s global problems had collapsed their established world, the houses of the Incarnate Conclave chose to reintegrate with the Dominion after their six-hundred year division.

House leaders from all four genome realms of water, land, air, and fire filled the sloping semi-circle surrounding the leadership platform in staggered rows of chairs and tables rising to the doors at the back of the room.