Chapter 10 - Neela
I lead Prax to his belongings. I’ve hung them above my lentil plants so they can catch every precious drop of water.
At least, that’s what I usually do. But maybe my guest is right—maybe our old routines are outdated.
If nature is now generous enough to give us more water, is it time we stopped obsessing over every drop?
I have to admit, his claims have left me a bit shaken.
We’ve always followed the Pact without question. Don’t waste. Take only what’s necessary. Be grateful.
We have access to plenty of films that depict the downfall of our own civilization—ours, wiped out by overconsumption. Food, shoes, wigs, makeup, decorations... everything was available in excess, with no regard for the consequences. Until Earth suffocated under it all.
So yes, we follow the Pact as if it were sacred truth, even if we know we’ve regressed compared to our ancestors. Even if some part of us is still drawn to the customs we see in those old movies.
Oblivious to my internal turmoil, Prax eyes his clothes with mild disappointment, pressing the fabric between his fingers before shaking his head. Not dry yet. No surprise—it’ll take hours.
I get it. He’s stuck here with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, showing off that finely sculpted chest. And the short fur covering it looks incredibly soft. He told me maintaining his coat takes at least two showers a day. Honestly, I believe him.
“Don’t you have anything... less revealing I could borrow?” he asks.
Oh right! My brother’s about to show up, and Prax wanted to change clothes. Understandable. Even if he’s a visual treat, being half-naked probably doesn’t feel very dignified.
“I could lend you a sheet?” I offer.
“"A sheet it is, then,” he agrees.
Moments later, he steps out of my room, wrapped in a clean cloth like some Roman senator. Even dressed like that, he has a commanding presence.
“Two vehicles approaching,” he announces.
What? How does he even know that? I haven’t heard a thing.
But sure enough, my brother bursts in a few seconds later, Esteban hot on his heels.
“You okay? Did the cat do something to you?” he blurts out, frantically scanning me for injuries.
“Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You asked me to come, even though we already saw each other this morning,” he snaps. “I called Esteban too—told him to back me up.”
Esteban stares at Prax, stunned. Even with Kiran’s quick summary, the sight of a giant feline alien in my tiny home would leave anyone speechless.
“Start explaining,” my brother demands. “Do we need to tie him up? Did he hurt you? Esteban, get the restraints!”
“Easy, Human. I haven’t laid a finger on your sister,” Prax says calmly, his gravelly voice instantly freezing both men in place.
Their jaws drop. Speechless. That’s going in the record books—Kiran, without a comeback.
“You talk?!”he finally manages.
“Kiran, Esteban, this is Prax, a member of the Intergalactic Confederation. He understands us thanks to a neural implant that let him learn French quickly. He’s not our enemy,” I say, hoping to diffuse the tension.
“And how do you know that?” Kiran challenges. “Look at him! He’s a predator. You can see it a mile away!”
“Grrrraorar!” Prax suddenly roars, making everyone jump.
Esteban turns pale and takes a step toward the door. Prax bursts out laughing.
“Thanks for noticing I’m not a cat, but a Sadjim—a proud and mighty race,” he grins.
“As Neela said, I’m with the Confederation, and it was a member of the Coalition who shot me down.
That’s why I crashed here. Am I a predator?
Absolutely. Is that dangerous? Obviously.
Am I about to snack on three trembling Humans? Tempting... but no.”
“You don’t scare me!” Kiran snaps. “Touch my sister and—”
“That’s not on my agenda, Human. Why don’t we sit down and talk like civilized beings?”
“Fine. Lead the way, kitty.”
I’m not sure if his implant caught the nuance of that nickname, but Prax sits on the couch without reacting.
We follow suit, still on edge.
“Can you describe the non-Human you saw with your leader?” Prax asks, turning to Kiran.
“Neela, you told him that?” Kiran accuses, eyes narrowed. “We don’t even know whose side he’s on!”
“Little boy,” Prax interrupts, “stop talking to your sister as if I’m not here. I asked you a question. Neela said you saw something... unusual. I’d like to know more.”
I nod encouragement, even as confusion clouds Kiran’s face. We usually keep this kind of discussion within our trusted circle. Sharing it with an outsider—from another world, no less—feels wrong.
“I just glimpsed the guy with Vassili and Gorka. They were a few yards away, heading to a meeting room. I turned around and hid in a nearby closet. I jammed the door shut with a maintenance cable, left a tiny gap to listen.”
Prax looks amused. Sure, hiding in a closet to eavesdrop might seem silly. But when it comes to uncovering the Palace’s dirty secrets, what choice do we have?
“So you didn’t get a clear look at him?”
“He looked humanoid, but his skin had dark, reddish scales. No hair or fur. Wore a dark suit. I didn’t see his eyes or mouth, but his voice was kinda... hissy.”
“That’s a Penubian. Probably Bully. He’s the one who shot down my ship. When did this meeting happen?”
“Twenty-sixth Aitnee. A Friday.”
Prax groans, rubbing his forehead.
“We have a problem. My implant helps me with words, but not your calendar system. I have no idea what ‘twenty-six Aitnee’ means. You’ll have to be more precise.”
“Aitnee is the last month of the year. My sister found you on the thirty-third. Today’s the forty-first.”
“Got it. So Bully visited your leader just days before attacking me. That means he’s no longer on Mars. If he needed a week to acclimate, he was leaving when he crossed paths with me. Did you catch what they were talking about?”
“Not much. I clearly heard ‘new shipments,’ ‘discretion is key,’ ‘our partnership is a success,’ and ‘the rewards will be substantial.’”
“That’s all?”
“Sorry. The rest was too muffled.”
“Are you going to help us?” Esteban finally speaks up.
“First, I need to understand the full picture. These leaders working with the Penubian—are we talking three people? Three hundred? What resources do they have? And how many of you are actually affected by their actions?”
To help illustrate, I stand and project a detailed map of Mars onto the wall.
“Humans only live in the northern hemisphere, between 22.8°N and 5.0°E. There are six colonies. Arabia Terra is the closest to the equator, the warmest, and the most populated—about fifteen thousand colonists. Then there’s Acidalia Planitia, Cyronia Labyrintus, Cydonia Colles, Cydonia Mensae, and finally, Cydonia Mountain—where we are now. Around fifty thousand people total.”
“Who governs them?” Prax asks.
“Naoto Masayuki oversees the first three. Vassili rules the last three.”
“And beyond that?”
“Humans aren’t allowed outside those zones!” Esteban cuts in. "“The rest is reserved for animal species!”
“Ah yes, your famous Pact,” Prax replies with a smirk.
Kiran and Esteban blink at him in confusion. They don’t know I’ve been questioning the foundations of our code lately.
“Yes, it’s one of the Pact’s laws,” I say. “Kiran, you should know that while Prax is part of the Confederation, he seems skeptical of our regulations.”
“I’m not skeptical,” Prax corrects. “I’m stunned the Polarians forced such restrictions on your kind. No other terraformed world I’ve visited operates like this. But whatever. Just understand—if Vassili is working with Bully, they won’t hesitate to go wherever they want.”
“To do what?” Kiran asks.
“You should know—the Coalition trades in anything they find. Rare minerals, tech, exotic creatures. Anything they can sell.”
“Plenty of old records describe similar dealings on Earth,” I add. ”From Romans and Greeks to drug cartels. I didn’t know it was still a thing out in the galaxy.”
“My sister’s right. We always thought of ourselves as primitive. Immature, even. So we were grateful when the galaxy, especially the Polarians, gave us this second chance—under strict conditions.”
“I see. They convinced you that you alone were irresponsible. That only you needed to be punished and reformed. But I’ve got news for you—coalitions like Bully’s deal in everything. Including sentient beings. Have any of your people gone missing?”
“What kind of question is that?” Kiran frowns.
“It’s a simple one. Since noticing your leader’s shady behavior, have any vocal dissenters disappeared?”
I rack my brain—patients, neighbors, friends… nothing stands out.
“Not that we’ve noticed,” Kiran says. “If someone vanished, people would talk.”
“You’re forgetting Akiro and Jonathan!” Esteban jumps in. “They left suddenly—no warning.”
“True. But they’d been talking for weeks about heading to Arabia Terra to report Vassili.”
Still, it’s odd they left without telling a soul.
“Why are you asking?” I press Prax. “What are you implying?”
He sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his thick, messy hair.
“Speak, kitty,” Kiran prods.
“Don’t push me, Human. You don’t want to see me angry. But fine. The Coalition doesn’t just trade goods. They trade people. If your friends were asking the wrong questions, someone may have decided it was more profitable to sell them than let them talk.”
“That’s insane!” Kiran snaps. “Why would anyone want to ‘own’ another human being?”
“You tell me,” Prax shrugs. “Your kind has a long history of enslaving others—including your own. Why imprison wild animals, whales, birds? You call it ‘entertainment.’ I call it disgusting. But if you’re shocked I bring it up, maybe that’s your guilt talking.
In any case, exotic species fetch a high price.
If people have vanished mysteriously, you’d better consider the possibility. ”
We exchange horrified glances. Could he be right?
Suddenly, Prax tenses.
“Are you expecting visitors?” he asks.
“No. Why?”
“Someone’s coming.”
“Hide in the bathroom!” I urge, ushering him toward my room. “We still need to keep your presence secret.”
The cat-man disappears, and Esteban and Kiran casually settle on the sofa.
Seconds later, the door opens, revealing Piotr, the mountain of a man from our region.
“Everything okay here?” he asks, stepping inside.
"Sure, Piotr,” I smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I heard your call on channel 59. Thought you might need help.”
“Good to know you’re always looking out for my sister,” Kiran says, rising. “But as you can see, we were just chatting. Time to let her rest.”
With barely disguised amusement, I watch Kiran and Esteban gently—but firmly—escort Piotr out the door.
He’s been a widower for three years now and has made no secret of his hopes to settle down.
.. with me. I’m not interested. At all. The man annoys me, especially his bootlicking behavior with Palace members.
I’m not surprised he jumped on his snowmobile the moment he heard me call my brother.
I’m more surprised he was eavesdropping on channel 59 at all.
As they disappear into the snowy valley, I catch Kiran’s meaningful look.
“Be careful. Trust no one. Watch the cat.”
I turn and head back inside.
Where that barely-dressed feline is standing in the middle of my living room, fists on his hips, waiting.