Chapter Text
Although the present year was 2138, the roots of humanity’s interstellar age could be traced back to the 1960s. As Professor Rosenburg put it on that lovely summer afternoon:
“American astronauts first touched down on the surface of Earth’s moon on the fabled day of June 20th, 1969. While this in itself was a momentous event in our history, it was made even more notable by the geological discovery which followed. See, while studying the moon’s landscape, the Apollo astronauts found exposed deposits of luminescent, purple crystals at the bottom of some of the craters. Later missions revealed that even MORE of these crystalline deposits could be found beneath the moon’s surface.
This purple mineral, dubbed erchius, turned out to be an excellent medium for energy production. Thanks to the technological advancements spurred by its discovery, humans were able to achieve and refine interstellar travel by 1987. By 2002, human astronauts had their first encounter with the mobians; the first of six intelligent alien species that we’ve contacted.
We’ve all seen a mobians before, right? Mouse-like humanoids with a fine layer of fur, around four feet in height? As their name implies, they hailed from the planet Mobius? Their hair, speaking of it, can vary radically in color, length, and style depending on the individual. Not to go off on a tangent, of course. I’m not a biology teacher… Although initial contact went, admittedly, rather poorly, later relations between the two planets’ nations have been relatively positive. It wasn’t long before documented immigration between Earth and Mobius had become commonplace.”
This information was hardly new to Coco, given that she was an Earth-born mobian herself. Despite this, the bored, orange furred college freshman still documented everything she heard her professor say in her notes. ‘Why’s he talking about intergalactic relations, now?’ she thought, as she typed away on her hot-pink laptop. ‘This isn’t a sociology class.’
Professor Rosenburg was, indeed, not teaching a class on intergalactic relations, but rather a class on the history of astronautical sciences. Coco could understand why someone may want to discuss cosmic anthropology once or twice, considering the subject matter. But to dedicate an entire section of your lecture to Earth-Mobius relations alone? She could only hope that her teacher wouldn’t dare to go into how the 5 other intelligent races had been discovered, lest he never return to the course material.
The professor was about to launch into a brief tangent regarding the mobian’s own usage of erchius, before his phone began buzzing.
“Hold on.” He said, checking his phone and muttering to himself. “Could had sworn I had it set to don’t disturb.”
The scatterbrained instructor turned away from the sparsely filled lecture hall pews and fiddled with his smartphone for a brief moment, before addressing the class.
“Ok everyone! I’m afraid that I’m gonna have to cut the last ten minutes of lecture today. Kid’s sick at school, and the missus can’t make it to pick him up.”
A few compassionate “awws” could be heard from the rows of students as everyone began packing up. Coco packed her laptop away in its case and joined the other students leaving the lecture hall.
Upon exiting the building, she was pleased to see that it was still warm outside. Coco exhaled, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her sherbet fur as she adjusted the flower-shaped pin holding her long, blonde ponytail together. Although her classes were done for the day, said day was far from over, and the city was still buzzing with life.
The courtyard consisted of a pleasant blend of modern architecture and greenery, a testament to the city’s efforts to create an inviting campus. Wide, paved walkways cut through carefully maintained shrubbery and past brilliant magnolia trees. The sun’s light shimmered beautifully in the waters of the courtyard fountain, beside which groups of students lounged on benches. Some chatted over coffee, while others scrolled through their personal devices.
Coco continued past the outer edge of university grounds and into the city. Since her apartment block was rather close to campus, she had elected to walk to and from home that day, so the pleasant weather was more than appreciated.
Coco’s commute through town took her by an electronics store. Sleek, high-end flatscreens sat in the window, a small crowd of four or five watching intently. It wasn’t the quality of these monitors that had everyone captivated, though. Like a scene from a cliché action movie, the crowd was observing some sort of major disaster unfolding on the multiple screens. Catching sight of the televisions’ contents, Coco too began watching.
“… magnitude 7 earthquake, the consequences of which are devastating as you can see behind me, Mark…” The newscaster on the screen stated. The audio from the broadcast was muffled by the storefront glass, but Coco didn’t need exposition to understand the magnitude of the disaster she was witnessing. The South American city lay devastated by a calamity the likes of which the area had never seen. Enormous gashes dotted the terrain, with cars, concrete, and occasionally, entire buildings having fallen to the bottom.
Behind the reporter, several individuals wearing matching outfits rushed past. The uniforms had a protective appearance, with armored pads attached to the knees and elbows. Even the fabric that the clothes were made from looked like it would be hard to tear. The officers bore insignias on their chests which resembled an upside-down U with small, angular wings attached. This iconic logo designated these officers as members of the Terrene Protectorate.
The Terrene Protectorate was an interstellar humanitarian organization originally founded on Earth. Created after a war between Mobius’s Sol Kingdom got involved with a violent war with a neighboring planet’s regime, the Terrene Protectorate dedicated itself to upholding personal freedom, safety, and harmony throughout the inhabited galaxies. The organization recruited from all 6 of the known sapient alien species, with these operatives being dubbed either “protectors” or peacekeepers” depending on their role.
The civilians watched as the tv view panned to show the protectors approaching a large pool of water. Said pool had been turned into a health hazard by a broken powerline which had fallen into the water. The lead protector, a member of a bonobo-like alien species known as the Apex, called for the others in his squadron to stand back, before producing a device from his holster. The tool fit neatly into his hairy hand, almost resembling the U that was the Protectorate logo. It was a matter manipulator, and even a child could tell you that every protector had one.
The protector aimed the metallic orange multitool at the middle of the cable and fired. A bright blue plasma bolt shot out from the tip of the matter manipulator, severing the powerline and cauterizing both ends of the newly created duo of cables. This not only rendered the cable lying in the water eventually inert, but prevented the remaining cable still attached to the pylon from spewing sparks onto his squad as they crossed.
With the most exciting part of the broadcast over, the television screens once again switched to footage of the tragic disaster that had prompted the Protectorate’s involvement in the first place. Coco stopped watching the TVs and continued her walk back home. “God, that was bad.” she muttered to herself. The earthquake had indeed been horrible, but what could she to do about it? Even if she was wealthy enough to provide a charitable donation of any meaningful amount, a relief fund for such a recent disaster probably didn’t exist yet. With that in mind, Coco subconsciously elected to do what most do when hearing about far away disasters that don’t directly affect them; keep those affected in her heart and ultimately little else.
As Coco arrived at her apartment building, the sun’s rays reflected off of Coco’s parked car in such a way that Coco couldn’t help but stop to appreciate her ride before continuing. Her car was a Baja Bug with a hot pink paint job and vinyl flames running down both sides. The former Volkswagen Beetle had been gifted to her as a present on her 17th birthday, and it was love at first sight. From that day on, Coco dedicated her spare time to working on the car, modifying and repairing it in any way her mechanical expertise allowed.
Stepping into her apartment, Coco kicked off her beat-up sneakers and slid them aside with her foot. It was a humble first-floor abode, decorated with a mixture of wood and bamboo furniture. Directly in front of the door was the living room, the left-side of the apartment taken up by the kitchen. In the corner of the living room, just before the hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom, sat Coco’s desk.
The furry sophomore, having been anticipating this moment since that morning, sat down at the desk. It was well-loved, tool marks etched into its surface from its time as a makeshift workbench. A length on an LED strip lined the back edge of the desk, a relic from a failed e-sports venture Coco had partaken in.
Coco took her laptop from its carrying bag and placed it on the surface in front of her. Turning on her computer, Coco saw that the time was 4:58 PM. ‘Just a few more minutes.’ Coco thought as she opened the video call application and waited.
As if jealous of the attention the computer was receiving, Coco’s cat jumped on the desk, anticipating her affection. “Oh, you know I didn’t forget about you, Pura!” Coco cooed, scratching behind her fluffy friend’s ear. The orange bengal cat rubbed his head against Coco’s hand, before climbing down from the desk and curling up underneath his owner’s chair.
A buzzing ringtone came from the computer and, a few seconds later, Coco was greeted by a surly voice and a familiar face.
“What’s up, hot cocoa?!” Coco’s eldest brother, Crunch, asked from across the country.
Crunch had a broad, muscular build, his burgundy-brown fur creeping slightly over the edges of his camo tank top. He waved his metal prosthetic of a right hand enthusiastically as he greeted his sister.
“Hi, Crunch!” Coco replied, chuckling at the nickname. “How are you holding up?”
“Holdin’ up good enough. You?”
“Nothing fancy. I just got back from class, and boy, it sure was fuuuunnnnn.” Coco drew out the ‘fun’ in the most sarcastic tone she could muster.
“Sounds like you had a Hell of a day.”
“Eh, I guess it was more boring than anything. The professor kept going on and on about planetary history. I guess he touched on BASICS of crystallic fusion, but-” Coco stood up and gestured to the faint oil stains on the front of her overalls. “Do I look like I need an introduction to engineering?”
“Well, what do ya’ know?!” Crunch let out a hearty laugh, turning his head to shout through the doorway next to him. “Here that, Crash?! Sounds like our lil’ sister is too smart for that fancy old college!”
“Yeah, where is Crash, anyway?” Coco asked, pondering the absence of her other brother.
“Hell if I know. ‘Probably got himself into some sort of something, or somethin’.”
Coco nodded, knowing all too well of the exploits that the fabled middle child of her family was infamous for.
“Oh!” Coco suddenly stated. “My God, did you SEE that earthquake that struck Java City?”
“I did! ‘Shit was crazy!”
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