Chapter One

My dear friend Rhys,

After our little encounter above Ceres, I decided that I owe you more of an explanation than the one I gave you. I do hope this letter finds you soon. I have instructed someone I believe I can trust to pass you this letter when they feel the time is right.

I will tell you what I am sure you are wondering the most about. Why did I leave TIE? Why did I turn my back on the Emperor, which you so resolutely refuse to do? The answer is not simple. In fact, I doubt I’ll be able to properly explain it properly in this letter. I promise you then that I will answer any further questions you have if we meet again in favourable circumstances.

I do not doubt you saw my navigator, Mr Steinman. I am equally sure you were aware he was a mustelid. He is one of the reasons why I felt I had to leave TIE. You see, I disagree with the Empire, and with the Vatican over their treatment of the mustelids. I implore you: get to know one. You’ll find them intelligent, funny, and a damn sight more interesting than most humans. They are also incredibly skilled. Nick Steinman is the finest navigator I know, not including your Mr Scott, that is.

My opinion is not a lone one either. All of my crew have agreed with me over mustelid treatment. There are sympathisers everywhere. The sympathy just has to be unlocked first, as it has been suppressed by TIE and the Vatican for so long.

But do not get me wrong. Mustelids are not the only reason I left. If that were the case, I could have simply defied TIE convention and appointed Mr Steinman and let whatever consequences that may have occurred just happen. But there is a second reason. I believe TIE to be the ‘wrong’ side – if ever there is such a thing in wars.

Do you even know how this war started? I don’t blame you if you don’t. Few do. But I have done some research and found out the truth. This war started over reasons so fickle it would be laughable had it not caused the deaths of billions of people.

The CGP used to be part of TIE, you know. The CGP paid TIE for resources to be shipped from Terra to Centaura, at an unbelievably high price. Eventually enough was enough, and the CGP proposed that they be given permission to gather the resources from their own star system. A logical choice, don’t you think? But TIE, being greedy and power hungry, refused. They demanded that the CGP continue to pay the extortionate rates, and as a punishment for their audacity, would now pay even more. The CGP naturally defied this ruling and declared peaceful independence from TIE. Then Terra sent an entire armada to obliterate the CGP. Centaura was only able to successfully defend itself because of the assistance of the mustelids there. The rumours you may have heard about mustelids being treated better in the CGP are true, and that’s the reason why. They saved Centaura.

But the war still continues. Such a trivial matter. So many lives have been lost because of the greed of TIE. Do you still believe you fight for the right side, Rhys? I look forward to your answer.

You friend always, Captain Aaron Lee.

Captain Rhys Griffiths had read Aaron’s letter just the once, but as much as he tried to forget about its contents, the words seemed to be burnt onto the inside of his eyelids. It had raised far too many questions that he didn’t truly trust himself to answer with the conscious part of his mind.

The past couple of months had given Rhys many reasons to resent Spaceways and the Terran Interplanetary Empire, but he still stubbornly gave them his loyalty, even as they threatened to expel him from their ranks. It seemed hard to believe that scant months ago he had been one of Spaceways’ brightest stars, the odds on favourite to become the youngest admiral in its long and glittering history. The retiring Admiral Garter had personally recommended Rhys to take command of the Middle-Sol region of the Empire, but all of that had changed after a teleporter accident in the aging Cerian port of Normandy.

A fault had occurred – the specifics had never been explained to Rhys – but the teleporter had wiped his genetic information and replaced it with that of the previous user, that being a maniacally hyperactive mustelid by the name of Twitch.

Mustelids were a slave race created in a laboratory over two centuries ago, and were widely considered to be without conscious intelligence, and were bred simply to serve humans. Rhys was now ashamed to admit he had believed this to be the case, but it had not taken long to realise that his beliefs were wildly incorrect. He had soon discovered mustelids to be incredibly intelligent, fun-loving creatures who, whilst aware and unhappy with their position as slaves, were too cowed by two centuries of oppression to better their social status within the Empire.

However, because of his new appearance, Rhys found his standing in Spaceways was very quickly altered. Though a few people, like Admiral Garter, stood by him, he was also attacked by several people he had once called friends. It was only because of the support from Admiral Garter that he was able to continue in his role as captain, but it did not look like even Admiral Garter would be able to remain strong under pressure from TIE and the Vatican to keep Rhys in such a high ranking position. Change would have to come, but Rhys was reluctant to cause any major upheaval.

Once he was restationed to the Mount Cotton spaceport on the fringes of the small Australian city of Brisbane, Rhys found himself out of options. Repeatedly shunned by the local captains, Rhys found refuge with the mustelids residing there, and soon hatched a plan with their de-facto leader, a grey-furred veteran called Leandro.

A small rebellion had broken out, and for a few days the mustelids of Mount Cotton had locked themselves inside the old jail they called home. Rhys was yet to decide if it had all been successful. Whilst they had been able to sway the minds of two human captains to champion their cause for mustelid equality, Leandro had been shot and killed by the cowardly Captain Rivers.

For his part in the rebellion, Rhys had been sent to the small planet of Cymru in the Sirius system, about as far away from the centre of the Terran Interplanetary Empire as he could go. He knew it was an attempt by Admiral Garter to keep him out of further trouble, but Rhys had to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure if that was possible. He knew it would all depend on the reaction he would receive from the Spaceways personnel on Cymru. After three days of travel, they would arrive at the Sirius System after another two.

There had been little in the way of events to pass the time. They had recorded a few microimpacts whilst passing through the Oort Cloud, but nothing to cause any significant alarm. In the void between star systems, there was very little to affect the monotony. Rhys founds it a welcome reprieve from the constant activity he had faced at Mount Cotton and Normandy.

Such was the precision of the navigator, Edgar Scott’s calculations after the launch from Terra, the Harvester did not have to alter its course at any point. Even the slight adjustment in direction thanks to the gravitational pull of a passing stray comet had been taken into consideration.

As they drifted smoothly onwards, Rhys’ presence was required less on the bridge, a place he no longer felt as comfortable as he once had. When overseeing his crew’s work, he often found himself drifting off and thinking about his time at Mount Cotton, or what he anticipated was waiting for them on Cymru.

Thankfully he wasn’t needed much on the bridge, and he often took Twitch away with him to teach his him further about his roles as first officer. They were usually joined by Scott, who, true to his promise back on Ceres, remained keen to assist the mustelid’s training. Mostly it was correct decision making they worked on, allowing Twitch to build up a repertoire of choices he could make in a massive variety of situations. Twitch learned eagerly, from mistake and correct choice alike. He was the fastest learning officer Rhys had known, and before they even reached the Sirius System, Rhys would have trusted Twitch to handle almost any feasible situation they may encounter.

On occasion, Scott would also take Twitch away and offer him some private lessons in the art of navigation. At first Rhys had been reluctant to allow these, afraid that the increased workload would be detrimental to Twitch’s learning, but the new first officer had taken it all in his stride. Scott had also argued that it would be beneficial for the mustelid to have a secondary skill in spacecraft.

When Rhys was not busy training Twitch, he spent most of his time in the small leisure quarters of the ship, usually in the company of Steph, one of the three mustelid’s Rhys had brought with him from Ceres. Twitch’s partner, David, would also join them whenever he emerged from the medical bay, where he was apprenticed to the ship’s Doctor, Anthony Sparks. David was almost always engrossed in his latest journal. Doctor Sparks had spoken if how impressed he was with his new student. “Mustelids practically absorb knowledge,” he said at one point. “I think you could just place a book next to a mustelid and they’d still learn from it.”

Steph often spoke of how much she was enjoying life aboard the Harvester. She had very much taken to her companions, especially William and Richard, the two mustelids who had already been a part of Rhys’ crew long before his transformation, and was revelling in her new work. Though she was sometimes wistful of those she had left behind, she rarely spoke of this to Rhys. Around the captain she was prone to falling into fits of bashfulness, and would stutter and squeak in fright whenever he happened to glance in her direction. At other times she was as maniacal as even Twitch. Rhys could never be sure which Steph he was to experience, and he didn’t yet know which one he preferred.

He was very satisfied about how well the new members of his crew had adapted to their roles and settled in to a new environment, and equally so by the human reactions too. The example had been set by the dismissal of Cooper and Briggs. If any still opposed him and Twitch, then they were doing so quietly, and Rhys was fine with that.

Finally, on the fifth day of travel, Scott announced that they were within the gravitational pull of the Sirius twins. That was the cue for all the crew to return to the bridge. They did not have long before they would be orbiting Cymru.

The reverse-thrust engines were activated to gradually bring down the speed of the ship. Again, the ship’s pilot, Aleksandr Chekhov, and Scott collaborated to slow the Harvester at the precise level of deceleration required to reach Cymru’s gravity.

Meanwhile, the communications officer, Jermaine McDonald had opened dialogue with Ground Control on Cymru, identifying themselves and making certain their intended orbit was clear. McDonald also ascertained which port they were to land at. New Swansea was the answer; on the outskirts of the largest city on Cymru, though it was small in Terran terms, being home to just under four million. That was one of the reasons Rhys liked Cymru; how sparsely populated it was.

The slightly smaller planet, Celta, was the hub of Sirius in terms of population, mainly because it was more abundant in critical resources for early colonisation, especially iron and oil. Though it was still nowhere near as crowded as Terra, Rhys did not like it. The natural beauty wasn’t the same as Cymru’s.

“We’re in Cyrmu’s upper atmosphere,” Scott said, and signalled to Chekhov to cut the engines completely. They were now locked in orbit around the planet.

“Let’s open the windows then, Mr Hall,” Rhys said, eager to note Twitch’s reaction as he opened the windows. This was the first time Twitch had ever left the Sol System, so Rhys knew that the sight of Cymru and the double star would be even more spectacular for him than anyone else.

Slowly the window shutters opened. Cymru was directly below them. It had less ocean surface than Terra. Just under half the planet was covered in crystal blue water. The rest of the planet constituted largely of a single pangeaic landmass, with a few small islands scattered around its coastline. New Swansea was clearly visible even from the upper atmosphere, on the western coastline of the super-continent. It was surrounded by a large patch of dark green that Rhys knew to be a massive forest, bigger than anything left on Terra. But the real beauty to be seen was not on Cymru. It was just behind the planet.

A dazzling vista was there: two stars just two palms apart from their distance. Sirius A was the far larger of the two stars and appeared a little larger than Sol did from Terra. Whereas Sol was a yellow-orange in colour, Sirius A was a bluish white. It was much brighter than Sol too, and Rhys had to squint to even look near the star. But the biggest difference between Sol and Sirius was easily the second star just to the lower left of Sirius A. Sirius B was less than half the size and brightness of its larger twin, but its mere presence there made it spectacular.

Twitch summed it up in a single word. “Wow.”

Even Rhys, who had seen it before, was entranced by the beauty and the strange feeling of being in orbit around a completely different star to the system he was born in. Mankind hadn’t been travelling interstellar long enough to be used to the sensation yet.

A few minutes later they were directly above New Swansea and the slow descent began. There was little that could be seen from the bridge as the ship reverted to an upright position, taking the planet and twin stars out of view from the small windows. It was night on this side of the planet, so there were few changes to the sky outside to tell how far down they had come. Only Chekhov and Scott knew that, the two in constant collaboration again to control their descent. Spaceships were designed for space travel, not for landing on a planet’s surface. The sweat on Chekhov’s pale brow told that it was a very difficult task for the pilot.

Thin clouds began to pass the bridge window after a couple of minutes. Just a few thousand metres remained, and for a ship in controlled freefall, that would not take long to complete. The oil engines roared to life. A small amount of fuel was always conserved for landing. The ion engines were simply too powerful for the precision required to land the bulky behemoth ships. Now under the influence of Cymru’s gravity the sudden deceleration could be felt, pushing the crew into their seats.

Then the light pollution of New Swansea could be seen in the distance; a faint glow to the north. Moments later the light was cut off as the Harvester descended into the spaceport’s docking bay. As gently as though they had fallen just a few scant metres, the Harvester landed without so much as a jolt.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Cymru,” Rhys said as a light switched on outside the ship.

Just one person was waiting to meet them outside the docking bay, which was otherwise completely empty. Captain Marie Penklis was the port’s resident captain; she was an austere woman of around fifty, and had a disapproving glare she reserved only for Rhys and Twitch as they disembarked with the rest of the operations crew.

“Welcome to New Swansea, Captain Griffiths,” she said sternly. She did not offer her hand to Rhys but kept them tucked into her pockets. She turned on her heel before Rhys had chance to respond. She continued talking, and Rhys hurried to keep up.

“Admiral Garter sent word ahead to have some accommodation set aside for you. As this is such a small port, we don’t actually have enough on-site for your entire crew to stay long term, so I have acquired some civilian housing for you. I have also arranged some transport for you in the morning, as it is located in the district of Avon, about an hour’s walk from here,” she said.

“Thank you Captain Penklis. May I ask if anything has been set aside for the rest of the night?” Rhys asked, almost having to run to keep up with Penklis’ loping strides.

Captain Penklis nodded. “There are dormitories set aside for your crew. You and your first officer have a room in the captains’ quarters. Someone will be along to collect your systems crew shortly. If you’d care to follow me though, I can lead you to your accommodation for the night.”

Not once did Captain Penklis look back to make sure Rhys and his crew were following. Her frosty attitude was unmistakeable, but at least she was acknowledging Rhys’ rank as captain, something he had not received upon arriving at Mount Cotton. That situation had led to a revolt, and left his position in Spaceways as precarious at best. A repeat situation would not bode well for his career, or even his continued freedom in TIE.

The New Swansea spaceport was very small, being less than half the size of the one at Mount Cotton. Apart from the docking bay and the control tower in the very centre of the port, nothing rose above a single story, and everything else was clustered into a single small building beneath the tower. It only took Captain Penklis a few minutes to show the operations crew to their dormitories, and then lead Rhys and Twitch to the captains’ quarters.

“Admiral Garter also asked me to give you this,” Captain Penklis said, handing Rhys a small envelope, sealed in the official insignia of Spaceways. “No one has read this but for my communications officer who transcribed the message, as per the Admiral’s request.

“Tomorrow morning at 0800, a taxi service will be available to convey you to Avon. If you wish to walk just ask your driver for an address. New Swansea is particularly pleasant at this time of the year. Good night Captain Griffiths,” she said. For a moment she moved her arm as though to extend her hand to Rhys, but then thought better of it. She disappeared into her quarters and slammed her door shut.

“Rhys, we aren’t going to let them sleep in the same dormitory as the others are we?” Twitch asked quietly, the moment Captain Penklis’ door had shut. Rhys immediately knew he was talking about David, Steph, William, and Richard.

“No, of course not. We’ll make room for them in here. If you run and fetch them, I have a feeling I should read this alone,” Rhys said, his hand trembling as he held up the envelope. He didn’t like this. Surely Admiral Garter would have told him everything when they had last met at Mount Cotton. This was either something that had happened very quickly, or something that even the Admiral was afraid to tell Rhys. Neither filled him with much hope.

As Twitch scampered away, Rhys slipped inside his quarters. He slit open the envelope with his claws and sat on one of the two beds as he read.

Captain Griffiths.

I did not tell you the whole truth, so here it is. You have not been simply restationed to Cymru. Consider it more a suspension of duty. Please be aware this is not my decision. Chancellor Roberts has opened a case against you, believing you unfit for captaincy despite my assurances to the contrary. I will continue to fight for your cause, but I thought it beneficial for you to be away from Sol while the case goes on. I will keep you updated on proceedings, but this is an unprecedented case, so I have no idea how long it this will take. I’d expect your stay on Cymru to be at least several months, and as such I have arranged with Captain Penklis for you to be settled in the city. But I promise you, I will persevere to get you back into active duty. I urge you not to do anything rash on Cymru. Relax and enjoy the break as much as you can.

You are still my choice for admiral.

Regards, Admiral Nigel Garter.

Rhys could only sit and stare at the letter, not really being able to comprehend the true meaning of the letter. He simply couldn’t believe the fact that he had been placed on suspension. In the back of his mind he knew that it was deserved, he had after all been involved in a rebellion against the Empire, but this had still come as a shock. He had believed Admiral Garter would be able to protect him from this.

He was still lost in thought when Twitch returned with the other mustelids. Steph bounded straight for him and lay on the bed by his side, while the others all sat together on the other bed; David curling up in Twitch’s lap.

“What’s in the letter?” Twitch asked as he stroked David’s head.

Rhys didn’t answer at first. He folded the letter up and slid it back into its envelope, which he placed on the small table between the beds. “I’m on suspension of duty,” he said eventually.

“What does that mean?” Steph whispered.

Rhys’ voice dropped to a growl as he answered. “It means that if Admiral Garter can’t save my ass, then I’m out of the Spaceways.”

“If anyone can get you out of this, it’s Admiral Garter. He likes you, he’ll do whatever he can,” Twitch said in support.

“I hope you’re right, Twitch. If I’m thrown out of Spaceways then there’s really nothing else for me,” Rhys said.

“There is something...” Twitch said slowly.

“And I think you already know what it is,” David finished.

“No. Not that,” Rhys said, shaking his head vociferously. He knew exactly what the two mustelids were talking about.

“You need to ask yourself these questions, Rhys,” Twitch continued, not even listening to what Rhys said. “Why do you fight the CGP when no one in TIE respects you? Why do you serve Emperor Neicwyk so loyally when his subjects want to take away everything you’ve worked towards? Answer those questions, and you know you’re still fighting for the right side. But if you can’t, then I’d recommend plotting the course to Centaura pretty damn quickly.”

“I’m Terran. I was born only a hundred and fifty kilometres from Buckingham Palace and the Emperor. You don’t get any more central to TIE than that. I have no allegiance at all to the CGP. None at all,” Rhys pleaded.

“You do realise you’re describing the human Captain Griffiths. That human doesn’t exist anymore. You, as you are now, were not born in Cardiff. You have been reborn a mustelid, one not tied to the forced allegiances you had before. You have a choice now. You can choose who you fight for, and no one will think any less of you, whatever your decision. Except perhaps the Emperor. Remember, we don’t fit in where we are in TIE,” Twitch said as he patted Rhys on the shoulder.

Rhys put his head in his hands. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m not giving up on turning this around. I can still be a captain. I’d still choose TIE,” Rhys said quietly.

 “I’d know the coordinates, Rhys. But don’t plug them in just yet,” Twitch said.

 “And you forget Captain Rhys, that I come from the same part of Terra as you,” Richard added. “I was born in Bristol, but I don’t see that as any reason why I should be blindly loyal to TIE. If they want to tear you down based on this, then you should not feel obliged to serve them.”

Rhys pulled away from Steph and stood up, placing his hands on the bedside table. “Maybe you’re right,” he told the wooden surface. “But I just can’t give up on it yet. I will fight for my career here until the very end.”

Steph pushed Twitch aside and placed her hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “No matter what you choose Captain Rhys, we will all stay with you,” she said.

They didn’t press Rhys any further, and the conversation soon turned away from Rhys’ future, and towards the fact that all of the mustelids were experiencing the Sirius System for the first time. None of them had left Sol before, and they excitedly debated what it was going to be like. Though they asked Rhys many questions, he was in no mood to respond, and they quickly learnt to let him brood in silence.

Eventually though, even Twitch began to tire, and they settled down to rest for whatever remained of the night. Rhys was about to vacate his part of the bed for Steph when she simply lay down, pulling him down beside her. She held him next to her with an arm across his chest as she nuzzled her head against his as she got herself comfortable. Rhys lay still, painfully reminded of another Steph, a woman from a time that felt so long ago now it was almost like a different life. In at least one sense, it was.

The following morning was bright and fresh. The dwarf star rose first as it always did, casting its weak light across the city of New Swansea. Sirius A emerged from the horizon half an hour later, lifting the day out of the half gloom the dwarf star had conjured.

Rhys was sat alone in the grounds of the New Swansea spaceport. He had extricated himself from Steph’s hold in time to see the twin sunrise.

He had barely slept all night. Though the mustelids had provided him with some comfort, he hated the idea that he could be being forced out of Spaceways. He had to admit to himself that there really wasn’t anything else for him in TIE, but he still did not want to think of the alternative. The CGP was still the enemy in his eyes, and that would not change at the merest whim.

“It is beautiful, is it not, Captain?”

Aleksandr Chekhov startled Rhys as he sat down next to the mustelid.

“We could be here for some time, Chekhov,” Rhys said after a few seconds of silence. “I’ve been placed on suspension of duty while Admiral Garter tries to fix the mess I made back at Mount Cotton.”

“It was a mess that had to be made though, Captain Griffiths,” Chekhov replied.

“Was it? It could cost me everything I’ve ever worked towards. It could cost everyone on my ship their careers.”

“But you’ve started something much greater, something that we’re all happy to be part of. I have spoken to the rest of the crew, as has Edgar. Not one person has expressed their reluctance to continue with you as captain. Not one of them begrudges you for your actions on Terra. We will all stand by you no matter what action you take.”

Echoes of the mustelids’ words of last night rang in Rhys’ ears as his eyes began to water. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve such close allies amongst his friends and crew, but he was thankful for it. Rhys repeated this to Chekhov, and the pilot just shrugged.

“We are all loyal to our captain,” he said. “You have shown us to be someone who is reliable and dependable, and you have given us no reason to doubt you. I know I can’t speak for all, but the fact that you’re a mustelid only enhances your standing in my eyes.”

“What if I got thrown out of Spaceways, what then? The crew could be disbanded, and if it was proven you were helping me in any way, then you would also lose your job. I’m responsible for a friend dying. I don’t want to be accountable for anything else,” Rhys said.

“Whatever happens, Captain Griffiths, it will be our decision to follow you.”

Rhys shook his head, but didn’t question his pilot. He knew that he had a responsibility to those who worked with him, and as much as he wanted to further the mustelid cause, he also realised that he couldn’t go about it as he had done at Mount Cotton. An attempted revolution had occurred that never had any real chance of success. It had resulted in the death of Leandro, the de-facto leader of the Mount Cotton mustelids.

As the twin stars continued to rise in the sky, Chekhov began to talk about his previous travels. He had never been to Cymru, though he had once stopped by on the smaller, busier planet of Celta on his way to the mining colonies in the outer reaches of the system. His father, Chekhov explained, was an engineer, and had spent a lot of his time in the Sirius System. After pestering his father for many years, Aleksandr had finally been allowed to accompany his father as a sixteenth birthday present. Though it had been dark and bitterly cold, Chekhov said that he had only ever been happier once in his life; that being the day he was confirmed as the new pilot for the Harvester.

Rhys blushed and folded his ears in at that bit of information. He had not forgotten Chekhov’s wide-eyed admiration in the first few months of his tenure aboard the Harvester. If anything, Chekhov’s respect towards his captain had only grown in the interim, but he no longer displayed it with quite so much youthful innocence.

The port began to gradually awaken around them. Birds and other creatures began calling from the numerous trees that filled the grounds. Some sounds were familiar to Rhys whereas others were completely and literally alien. Cymru and Celta were currently the only two planets humans had visited that already had life present on their arrival, albeit unintelligent and simple. Animals had evolved on Cymru, but not on Celta, which had been home to just plant life. Many of these alien species had never been removed from the Sirius system, and so they were a new experience to any newcomers.

Rhys joined his crew for breakfast before the call came to leave the port. The food was basic, but they all ate heartily after almost a week of forced in-flight rations and, on the mustelids behalf, a month before that of scraps and leftovers which was all the local mustelids of Mount Cotton were able to provide. Though there was not enough salmon to placate the piscine diet of the mustelids, no complaints were made.

When the time came to leave, every human in the two crews of the Harvester chose to take full advantage of the taxi service being provided to them. Twitch was the first to decline. He took one look at the electromagnetic vehicle and wanted nothing more to do with it. Having lived all his life on a derelict spaceport on Ceres, it was no wonder he was mistrustful of the anti-grav taxi. All six mustelids therefore decided to walk to Avon and, after being given rough directions to their new accommodation, set off across the city.

The parts of the city they walked through were rather beautiful. One of the reasons for the expanse of the sprawl was that every kilometre or so the low lying houses were punctuated by large parks or small forested areas. The connection with the natural beauty of the planet was evident even in the centre of its largest city. It was something that had been forgotten long ago on Terra, but had thankfully been revived on Cymru.

Instead of walking straight to Avon, they zigzagged their way, passing through as many of the different parks and forests as they could. David and Twitch often scampered ahead, chasing each other through the trees, pausing to inspect some new species of plant or animal they had never seen before, of which there were many.

Steph slipped her hand into Rhys’ as they walked. Though Rhys looked down at the diminutive mustelid in surprise, he did not attempt to pull away.  Rather, he actually tightened his grip on her hand. There was something about her that made him feel awkward and yet comforted at the same time, but also melancholy. Though Steph Allen the mustelid was nothing like her, she reminded Rhys of Stephanie Evans, a woman he had known many years back. Known very well, in fact.

“Rhys? Is anything wrong?” Steph asked, aware of Rhys’ sudden gloom.

“Remembering, that’s all. Remembering things I tried to forget a long time ago,” Rhys replied, trying to smile, which came out more of a pained grimace. “I’ll explain later. Maybe.”

Steph didn’t question him any further, but Rhys noticed a few worried glances in his direction as they walked. Rhys tried to forget again by watching the antics of Twitch and David up ahead. Twitch was trying to climb one of the trees, which was proving to be quite a difficult task with David wrestling him back down again every time his partner almost escaped his reach.

Almost everyone they saw was going in the opposite direction, towards the central districts of the city. Cymru was an ecological planet, and noxious vehicles were few and far between. Even the taxis, electromagnetically powered trains that ran over charged routes through the city, were uncommon. It may be archaic and time consuming, but almost everyone travelled inner-city on their own power. Only inter-city and inter-planetary travel warranted powered transport for most of Cymru’s citizens. As a consequence, everywhere was mostly quiet, much quieter than equal sized cities on Terra or Mars.

It was still early in the morning, and Cymru’s industries and businesses would soon be waking up for another day’s work. A lot of Cymru’s commerce came though its scientific endeavours. In recent years, Cymru had been a hotbed for technological advancement. The main laboratories in the New Swansea Institute of Science, built twenty years ago in the third and final wave of colonisation of the planet, were state of the art and featured the finest pseudo-intelligent machines ever built by humans. The facility had been entirely funded by Google, who had seen the potential in developing a state of the art laboratory in an area of such scientific talent.

Rhys had been inside the Institute of Science just once. While there he had seen the final stages in development of the latest model of teleporter system, said to be a significant improvement over the older model. The upgraded system had yet to reach Ceres. In fact one of its key features was the storage of users’ information off-site. This sort of technology would have prevented the accident that had occurred at Normandy.

But that was not the only thing that Cymru relied upon. The planet was very rich in minerals and elements that were rare or difficult to obtain elsewhere. Of these, the most valuable was Denitchev’s particle, a powdery substance that looked almost identical to salt. It was abundant on Cymru and Sirius’ outer, icy planets, but discovered in only one place outside the Sirius system. Terra’s single moon, Luna, was the only other place Denitchev’s particle had been found. The presence of the valuable substance in two such widely distance locations gave credibility to the fact that Luna was a rogue body captured by Sol after it had been ejected by Sirius.

Denitchev’s particle had been mined almost to nothing on Luna, so its discovery around Sirius had been a welcome one, for the particle was a critical component of space travel. The particle reacted uniquely with the natural discharges from the ion engines, creating a vortex that propelled the ship forward at incredible speeds, faster even than light. Their existence had been hypothesised by Marie Denitchev a decade before their discovery, which earned her the right to have her name immortalised in the history of humans’ exploration of space.

Just to the north of New Swansea was the second highest concentration of crust-based Denitchev’s particle discovered. The forty square kilometre mine was second in productivity behind just the Peppa mine on Romulus, the outermost planet in the Sirius system.

Roland Peppa had been one of the earliest visitors to the Sirius system. It had been he who had discovered the presence of Denitchev’s particle on his second trip to the small, barren planet, almost on the verge of Sirius’ gravitational grip.

Theory had it that Luna was once Sirius’ outermost planet, but because of how far out it must have been from the twin stars, the then-planet had come free of Sirius’ gravity and had been thrown directly towards Sol. That had never been proven without any doubt, but it was widely considered to be the most plausible explanation behind Luna’s origins.

“Rhys, are you sure nothing is wrong?” Steph asked again, squeezing his hand momentarily. They had reached the end of the current park, and were waiting for William and Richard to catch back up before continuing on through the next estate of houses.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Rhys replied and tried to smile again, though he was anything but. Remembering and thinking about Stephanie Evans had opened old wounds he thought long scarred over.

Given the lack of vehicles on Cymru, there were very few roads in New Swansea, and most of them were dedicated to the taxi trains. In their place were pathways, sometimes paved, but often just grassy strips that meandered between the houses. Despite the high fences that backed the properties, the paths were not claustrophobic at all. They were spacious and wide, and often under the shade of the native Taug trees that lined each side of the path.

After they had been walking for just over three hours and the twin stars were closing in on the zenith of their journey across the sky, the six mustelids had arrived at their place of residence: behind a low wall was a complex of houses, with a large mansion at the centre. Though the building was new, like almost everything on Cymru, it had been built to look old, and had actually been made out of stone to complete the effect. It was a practise usually reserved for only the very wealthy.

Behind the complex, the great forest encroached to just a few metres from the property boundaries. The trees were mostly native species, but Rhys could recognise a few Terran ones too: oaks were the main foreign species he could see. Rhys was suitably impressed by both the house itself, and the location it was situated in. At least Admiral Garter had chosen a good place for him to spend his hopefully temporary exile.

Already there were signs of the rest of Rhys’ crew making themselves at home. The mansion remained unoccupied though, the crew being uncomfortable taking the more luxurious dwelling away from their captain.

The house was as grand on the inside as it was on the outside, especially considering its two kitchens, eight bedrooms, and fully furnished living space. It was more than enough for six mustelids. There were even two GABs locked away in an understairs cupboard.

While the others rushed off to claim one of the many bedrooms for their own, Rhys hung back and lingered in one of the kitchens. There had already been so much to think about since his arrival on Cymru. He was worried about what was happening on Terra, and the fact that he could do nothing about it only made things worse. He trusted that Admiral Garter would do as much as he possibly could to help him, but he wasn’t sure the admiral would be able to get the support he’d need to clear Rhys’ name. If Chancellor Roberts went to the Emperor or the Vatican then he’d have no hope.

There would be no doubt that Scott would be the person to benefit the most if Rhys was ruled unfit for command. He would be promoted straight to captain, for Twitch would never be put into Rhys’ place. The navigator must have known this, but Scott had already declared his support for his captain on numerous occasions. Even though the navigator was as powerless as Rhys, the sentiments were still there, and that was enough to give Rhys that little bit of hope. It was Aaron who had said it. There were mustelid sympathisers everywhere. Perhaps this case could reveal a few in important positions. It had certainly unearthed Admiral Garter’s true sentiments.

Regardless of the comforts given to him by the crew, Rhys still knew that the next few months would drag on unbearably, but Rhys was equally aware that this was probably the best place for him to be. He had to let Admiral Garter deal with all the politics. He simply did not have the authority to clear his name. The simple fact though that his name had to be cleared was one that frustrated him. It implied that he had committed some wrongdoing, when all that had happened was that he was the victim of an accident: a machine’s malfunction. But that was not the extent of his situation. He had become a victim of the false discriminations against mustelids.

The mustelids in the CGP had rid themselves of that stigma by saving the entire planet of Centaura. The mustelids in TIE were never even given the opportunity to emulate their feat. There had to be something Rhys could do to prove his worth to TIE, but the words of Admiral Garter appeared in front of his eyes. Don’t do anything rash.

In addition to all of this, Rhys had also started to feel the re-emergence of memories and feelings he thought to be long buried. He knew the cause for this, and though he felt raw from the grief of years past that he had never been allowed to feel, he did not want Steph to leave. Though he was crying alone in a kitchen on Cymru, in danger of losing everything he had ever worked for, and grieving a lover lost long ago, he recognised this chance to be truly happy again.

“You’re going to tell us what’s really been bothering you all day?”

Rhys tried to wipe the tears from his eyes before anyone noticed, but as he looked up, he realised Steph had already seen. Twitch and David were standing by her side.

Rhys nodded slowly, but didn’t speak for a few moments. He closed his eyes and composed himself by taking a deep breath. “You remind me of someone. She was a Steph too. Stephanie Evans. We met in training for the Spaceways and we were instantly friends. Six months after that we realised we had something more than that. We started going out, and everything was perfect between us. I proposed to her, she accepted,” he said, hugging his legs to his chest.

“What happened?” Steph asked, placing her hand on Rhys’ knee.

Rhys closed his eyes. No one had ever been close to him since Stephanie Evans. He was finding it hard to adjust to. Especially the male comfort he was getting. But he had a story to finish, and his audience was waiting.

“We were to be married, four years to the day after we had first met. Everything was ready. Our families even got along with each other. It was a week before we were to be married that it happened. She was returning to Terra from an orbiting ship after training, I can never remember what ship. But her shuttle flew of course and missed Cardiff by some distance. It smashed into Mount Snowdon. All fifteen aboard the shuttle died instantly, Stephanie included.”

Rhys shivered and felt tears come to his eyes as his new Steph placed her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly. “She was everything to me, and I didn’t think I could ever love anyone again after her, but now...” He choked on his words, unable to carry on speaking.

No one pressed him to continue the sentence. Rhys had a feeling they all already knew something he had only just come to realise. Slowly, he put his arms around Steph. He took a deep breath and tried to blink away the tears. “I’ve been alone for so long, and I haven’t realised that until now.”

“Rhys, I didn’t know about that,” Twitch said, placing his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. Rhys had to admit he was very grateful for the comfort. It was something he had never actually received over Stephanie’s death. The Spaceways had given him a day to grieve before placing him back in his training. Rhys hadn’t spoken to Stephanie’s family since, and his family were only rarely able to visit him during his busy schedule. That he was now being comforted by three mustelids, six years later, helped to lift a massive burden from him he hadn’t even known he had been carrying.

The tears finally came and they streaked through his fur and onto Steph’s shoulder. But they were tears of relief: relief that he had finally told someone about Stephanie. Aaron had only known the full truth because he had been there when Rhys had been informed of her death. He didn’t believe anyone else on his crew knew about that part of his history.

“Come on David, I think we’d better go,” Twitch said after a few minutes, pulling David away. They both returned upstairs, leaving Rhys clinging to Steph, who whispered in his ear.

“You say you’ve been alone. After all the changes you’ve been through, do you think you need someone there for you, a little tenderness now and then? If you really want to, I’d love to be the one to hold on to,” Steph said, nuzzling the crook of Rhys’ neck.

Rhys said nothing, but his answer was evident in the passion in which he kissed her.