Chapter 37: Lir Sey'les

MGX-93776

Over the next arbitrary block of time on a planet that did not rotate, the area around Azagor had continued to warm. As of two days ago, for the first time since the Hypermatter explosion, Azagor's shields were shut down. When the clouds finally cleared, the temperature around Azagor increased as the city was bathed in a soft red light. Within hours, the mountains ashy snow began melting into dirty water and thick grey slag.

On their way to the tarmac, Sey'les and Wulf sloshed around in the muck, careful to not step into areas where the water would run over the tops of their boots. For Sey'les, the watery mess was just an annoyance. The eerie red light was another matter.

The light outside just did not hurt. On most other worlds, on a bright day, sunlight would hurt. On a cloudy day, the sunlight would still hurt if you stared directly at it. Here under the dim red sun, the light did not hurt.

It just does not hurt, Sey'les thought to herself, scowling at the angry-looking dim red sun. "It just does not hurt," she finally muttered aloud, unable to keep the thought to herself.

"Glad to hear it, ma'am," Wulf said jovially as he strode alongside Sey'les. "So, the hemodialysis pump is feeling better?"

"No—I didn't—Well, yes." The skin in the area of her side the tube connected to did hardly hurt now. Stopping for a moment, Sey'les adjusted herself, pulling her uniform collar out from under the straps of her backpack.

"I don't see the problem then," Wulf sighed, scratching his head. With each word, a hot puff of visible breath emitted, making him seem somehow even stupider to Sey'les. "You seem so angry lately. Now you are angry—"

"—The sun, Trooper," Sey'les grunted. "It does not hurt my eyes." She looked up, once again, at the sky. The sun was so dim, she could hardly see it while standing under a streetlamp.

Wulf looked at the sun too, frowning with suspicion.

Satisfied that she had made her point, Sey'les resumed her course towards the tarmac. Beyond the fence, in the centimetre-deep water, the rest of Team Muun stood around one of the LAATs on the apron. The red sunlight reflected from the water's surface made the tarmac look like it was covered in blood.

"Good morning, ma'am," Dub and the Clones said, giving enthusiastic salutes.

"Good morning," Sey'les said back, returning their salutes.

Inside the LAAT, the co-pilot stood in the passenger compartment, jotting last minute inspection notes on his datapad. Dr Myrr and the Wookiee leader, Master of the Wrench's Twist, were already seated in jump seats.

"Good morning Sey'les," Myrr said with a hint of impatience.

"Good morning," Sey'les growled, her left ear batting in annoyance as she stepped into the craft. She switched to Shyriiwook, turning to the Wookiee. ["I did not know that you were accompanying us. You are welcome to come along, but it is going to be a fairly routine flight, I expect."]

Master of the Wrench's Twist shrugged, moaning solemnly. ["My advisor, Child of the Cave Beach suggested that, as leader, I must inspect the situation beyond Azagor myself."]

Sey'les's fur twitched with annoyance. Wulf and the Clones who could not speak a word of Shyriiwook went about the cabin, preparing for their scouting mission, blissfully unaware that Child of the Cave Beach—the Child of the Cave beach who crashed a stolen BARC into their speeder truck—had something to do with anything.

"What's wrong, ma'am?" Wulf asked nervously.

Shaking her head, Sey'les snapped back into focus. "All right everyone—Pilot!"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Team Muun is ready if you are."

"Roger that," the pilot said from cockpit as the co-pilot began ascending the stairs.

"All right everyone!" Sey'les yelled once more, this time over the LAAT engines roaring to life. The water around the craft rippled, blowing up and away in a curtain of reddened mist. "We can expect… Weather. Wait, Dr Myrr, what sort of environmental hazards will we face?"

A snort of laughter escaped Myrr's mouth before he contained it, straightening his face as he stared at Sey'les. "Um, it's pretty clear skies actually. Humidity is rising as the heat capacity—"

"—We can expect clear skies, but some amount of unusual humidity!" Sey'les yelled, skipping a beat as she jumped back into her briefing. "Just because the skies are clear, does not mean there won't be any turbulence. Watch your balance, use your hand grips, no falling out of a moving spacecraft. Got it?"

"HOOAH!" Wulf and the rest of Team Muun yelled at the top of their lungs.

Sey'les's fur danced with excitement.

o.o.o.o.o

Hovering over the Azagor river, the LAAT paused, holding its position at Sey'les's behest. Dozens of Clones, Wookiees, and local civilians were splashing around in the muck, struggling with sandbags and barriers. Amidst the torrent of meltwater flooding the river, small icebergs floated downstream.

Sey'les immediately recognised where they were. They were over the apartment block where they were supposed to conduct a surveillance op the other day only, things had gone wrong.

Everyone aboard the LAAT gasped in alarm as a huge tan Separatist AAT battle tank pushed its way down the river, toppling in a corkscrew as the torrent pushed it along. The turret of the AAT scraped the sandbags, knocking the top row off. Water flooded onto the streets on both sides of the river as roaring Wookiees and screaming Clones ran back to the barrier, struggling to realign the sandbags.

The AAT continued floating down the river until it wedged itself under a bridge with a sickening crunching scraping sound. Standing uselessly on the LAAT while the GAR struggled to stop the flooding, was too much for Sey'les.

She held her wristcomm up to her snout, speaking quickly. "This is Muun Leader to Echo Actual. We have eyes on responders well… Setting up flood barriers. Are you sure you don't need Team Muun's help down there?"

"Muun Leader," Ekos voice replied testily. "We have it handled."

Two more LAATs hovered down alongside theirs. One had a set of cargo lifters under it.

"Copy that," Sey'les growled. "Team Muun is oscar mike."

o.o.o.o.o

As they set off towards the Substellar Point—the part of the planet that was now perpetually closest to the sun, the air grew noticeably warmer. Forty minutes into their journey, the pilot Caf, asked if he could open the side hatches.

Sey'les obliged, and the cabin was subjected to a warm breeze.

The LAAT flew over melting patches of frozen ashy mud, thawing flattened frozen forests, melting icebergs. All the while, Dr Myrr talked animatedly with Dub and the other Clones about the environmental changes the planet was already seeing. He said something about most of the soil outside of Azagor being almost sterile, with only a few bacteria species surviving the cold. His working theory was that the Substellar Point had warmed up faster than Azagor, which was over 4,000 kilometres away.

Fur rippling in the gusty breeze, hemodialysis pump placed safely under her jump-seat, Sey'les was hardly paying attention to any of it. The burning question on her mind was: Why is Itoll giving us such easy and safe assignments?

After twenty minutes of trying to put herself in Itoll's shoes, her fur twitched with annoyance. He He must feel guilty, Sey'les thought. Itoll must feel guilty because he knows that I should be Lieutenant Commander, not him! He knows I am way more experienced and—And he feels guilty that Ekos likes him more, even though I am awesome. Ekos is—

Sniffing the air furiously, Sey'les looked around the cabin. The air now had a hint of rotten salty smell, like the worst ocean the Bothan had ever smelled. "The kriff is that smell?!" she snarled, now somewhat agitated over her hypothesis for Itoll's actions.

"I don't smell anything, ma'am," Dub said.

Dr Myrr stopped talking mid story. "Captain, I respect that you are in command of this expedition, but I don't see the need to use such foul language."

Sey'les fought the urge to snort with laughter. She opened her snout to apologise but stopped.

"Hey, I do smell something," Knot muttered, sniffing the air with a crinkled nose, helmet under his seat.

"I am seeing… Water?" the pilot exclaimed as a question.

"Water?" Sey'les asked.

"Yes ma'am, dead ahead. Nothing but water and ice."

"Water!" Dr Myrr began fiddling with his seatbelt straps, struggling to free himself. "How do I get out of this confounded thing!"

Sey'les nodded to Grath, who unbelted himself and proceeded to help Myrr. The smell of rotting fish and salt grew stronger as she stepped towards the cockpit. By the time she was able to look through the transparisteel, her eyes were watering from the smell, which was now mixed with a pungent aroma of wet hay.

"There must be some bacteria that survived the—What?!" Myrr gasped, looking over Sey'les and the pilot at the scene below.

While the map on the LAAT's terminal indicated they were nearing the flat plains at the centre of the southern continent, before them was a vast expanse of ice-berg riddled sea.

"Ma'am, we are supposed to be over land. Our instruments must be—"

"—THE TIDE!" Myrr yelled, gasping even louder in sudden realisation. "We have to go down there!"

Sey'les still wincing from Myrr's loud outburst, scowled angrily. "Close the side doors! Why do you want us to get closer to that… That hell hole?!"

o.o.o.o.o

"Sensors are picking up a witches brew of organic compounds," the co-pilot reported. "Mostly methane, but also trace amounts of chloroform and phosgene. I would advise wearing a transpirator, ma'am."

Under her transpirator, Sey'les's fur was on end, twitching with annoyance. "I am already wearing one," she mumbled in a comical muffled tone from the passenger compartment.

"Shassa, I can still smell it through the transpirator," Wulf grumbled bitterly.

"You're telling me."

Dr Myrr, also wearing a transpirator, was the first out of the transport. He stepped onto the mucky half-frozen ground with a sickening splat. "Phosgene is toxic, but on the bright side, this implies that some of the seaweed survived at least."

Team Munn disembarked behind Dr Myrr onto the mucky terrain. While the air was now warmer than room temperature, the ground was still partly frozen. Beyond the field, upon the sea, blocks of ice ranging in sizes from the size of datapads to the size of small houses. The white glow of the icebergs contrasted heavily against the eerie red light reflected off the surface of the sea.

Atop the sea, floated a shimmering grey substance Sey'les could not quite make out. As she drew nearer to the shore, she gasped in shock. Well, now I know what the worst of the smell was.

Millions of dead fish floated upon the water.

Dr Myrr hummed in awe from beneath his transpirator. Hands covered in thick orange gloves, he waded into the water and grabbed the nearest dead fish.

"What are you doing, doctor?!" Sey'les yelped. "The water is literally exuding poison!"

"We need to take back samples!" Myrr yelled, matching Sey'les's disgust and incredulousness with excitement. "The fish are rotting which means bacteria are… Knot! Pass me the bucket."

Knot stepped into the sea apprehensively, outstretched arm carrying an empty bucket. He returned to the shore as quickly as he could the second Myrr took the bucket.

"I would say Myrr needs to get out more," Sey'les muttered under her breath to Wulf. "If he weren't standing knee deep in dead fish."

"Yeah, he could get eaten by a shark or something," Wulf snorted, soft chuckles echoing from his transpirator.

Sey'les's fur suddenly swirled nervously. Several unpleasant what-if scenarios suddenly flooded her mind. What if he gets poisoned standing in the water? What if that Koorivar really does get eaten by a shark? "Dr Myrr," she yelled as loudly as she could through her transpirator. "I think we should get back to the transport. Return with a more prepared team."

As if to prove Sey'les's point, the sea began churning. The icebergs began drifting closer to the shore as waves splashed up. It was as if the sea level were rising before their very eyes.

"You are probably right for once, Captain," Myrr said as he splashed in the water, wading back towards the shore. "The tidal forces here can only really be doing one thing."

"And what's that, sir?" Dub asked, taking the fish-filled bucket from Myrr.

"Pulling the oceans towards the substellar point."

Team Muun walked quietly back to the LAAT at that. After they clambered inside, the pilot shut the hatches and blasted the air filters on a purge cycle. A few minutes later, it was safe for them to remove their transpirators or helmets.

Upon freeing herself from her mask, Sey'les promptly headed to the cockpit to update Azagor as to the status of their mission. "Muun Leader here. Do you copy?"

"We copy you Sey'les." Itoll's voice came from the comms bearing a somewhat worried tone. "The flooding's gotten a bit out of hand here. The Azagor River changed direction. Is everything all right on your end?"

"Not sure. I think Dr Myrr should explain it."

o.o.o.o.o

Over the next few days, the egg heads at Azagor Polytechnic slowly, but surely, reached the conclusion that the oceans of MGX-93776 had shifted, were shifting, and were going to shift further as more ice melted. The liquid water in the oceans was being pulled to one tide on one side of the planet, directly over the Substellar Point. As the planet warmed and more ice melted, the oceans began to return to their pre-hyperspace jump sizes—Now slowly pooling over one hemisphere.

Three days after their scouting mission, as Sey'les shared breakfast table over breakfast with Wulf, Fojo, and Itoll, all four Direct Action Operatives received a pre-briefing update.

"This better not be about the Azagor River," Fojo grunted.

Sey'les took a sip of caf, opened the first page on her datapad, and began reading.

"Classification: CONFIDENTIAL. Sea level to rise at least 600 m in the next four months. Relocation of the population possible with four potential sites. Sites will be chosen—"

"—Whoa!" Wulf said, excitedly pointing at a spot on his datapad. "That's where we got stuck for days! That hill!"

Scowling, Sey'les looked back down at her datapad and flipped the page to the map attached at the end of the report. Sure enough, one of the four potential sites was that godforsaken hill General Olgar'kla had left them on for days.

"A million credits on that hill being chosen," she grunted bitterly.

o.o.o.o.o

Operation Uplift was now underway. The GAR, Wookiees, and Azagor locals spent the next week clearing paths through the muddy wastelands from the city to the site for New Azagor. Team Muun, and many of the other Republic personnel, were soon reassigned to various construction duties.

"You know," Sey'les yelled over the roar of rubble. "I guess I wouldn't mind living out my days on this hill. Although, the Republic rations are getting old."

"Me neither," Wulf yelled back. "On the bright side, next year we'll either starve to death, harvest that seaweed Dr Myrr was going on about, or start growing food."

The Bothan was now driving a TX-130 with a bulldozer shovel mounted to the front, Wulf seated next to her. Dust coated the transparisteel windows, casting dark shadows against the red light illuminating the cockpit's interior.

Seaweed, Sey'les shuddered at the notion. If GAR rations are getting old, imagine a diet that consists of seaweed.

"Muun Leader, Beaker Two has encountered some slag," Dub's voice said coming from the comm terminal.

"Copy that Beaker Two. Let's leave it for the demolition teams," Sey'les replied. "Can you make a U-Turn?"

The hill once had a lithium vane that had long since been exhausted. Every so often, the construction crews would encounter pockets of slag so dense the TX-130s could not push through.

"Affirmative," Dub sighed. "Coming about and heading back to 3rd Street."

As her TX-130 neared a group of Koorivar digging a ditch on the side of the road, Sey'les slowed down. She was careful not to inadvertently kick mud and other debris up at them as her bulldozer scraped a new layer of mud away.

There are worse things I can be doing and better, Sey'les thought. I could be in Itoll's shoes. Lieutenant Commander. Second highest-ranking being on the planet, or I could be digging a ditch.

"Captain, at what point do you think we'll stop playing this charade?" Wulf asked.

Sey'les blinked slowly. She thought for a moment, trying to ascertain what Wulf was talking about. Oh. Us. "Wulf, you and I—"

"—Oh, not about us ma'am," Wulf stammered. "This charade where we keep pretending to be Republic troops at war on a captured and occupied planet."

Exhaling in relief, Sey'les paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Honestly, I've been wondering the same thing. I get the Clones. They don't know any better. I don't get Ekos."

"You know, maybe we could force Itoll to think about the issue," Wulf suggested. He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Sey'les looked at the Ardennian incredulously, then turned her eyes back to the cockpit window. "What do you mean?"

"I was thinking we pop the question."

"What question?!" Sey'les asked in alarm. Her mind was racing as to what Wulf could possibly be thinking.

"Housing," Wulf answered in a deadpan. "You and I could ask him if we could get a plot to live together on this shtaky hill."

Sey'les swore under her breath, then laughed uncontrollably.

"What is it?" Wulf asked in a worried tone. "Do you not want to share a place with me then?"

"No, it's not that at all," Sey'les snorted. "We just—What the kriff?!"

A hulking dark triangular shadow suddenly formed in the reddened clouds. It grew bigger and bigger, then burst through down into the red sky. At first, in the still unfamiliar light, it was difficult for Sey'les to determine exactly what she was seeing.

"This is Muun Leader to base, be advised, there is an unknown ship that has just appeared. It is at my nine o'clock, over fourth street. Does anyone copy?"

"Calm down Sey'les," Itoll's voice yipped excitedly. "We've been found!"

As the ship drew nearer to Azagor City, its profile became more apparent. Slowly hovering down towards the Azagor City apron was an Artiquens-class cruiser.

"You know?" Sey'les asked to no one in particular. "I almost didn't want to be rescued. I mean... I might not live much longer without a kidney transplant, but still," she sighed. The TX-130 began shaking as the bulldozer shovel caught a particularly thick patch of ice.

"Yeah," Wulf agreed, putting an arm around her shoulders. "But duty calls."