Chapter 1: The Awakening of K’ira
Cyrcle 15, Bak’tal of the First Light
evtorThe city of Ahret’mar stretched before K’ira like a gleaming sea of white stone, each building reflecting the red hue of the sun, Dziva. The city, built atop centuries of history, was a fusion of the old and the new—but mostly, it was new. The only true relic of the past was the ancient pyramid that rose at its center, the first and only structure from a forgotten era. Its jagged steps stood in stark contrast to the smooth, pristine architecture that now surrounded it.
arAhret’mar, the heart of the Tz’aqur civilization, was a testament to progress. The buildings, most of them only four stories high, were built from a special kind of white marble, known as Kal’hun stone. This material was more than just aesthetically pleasing; it was functional. The stone had an extraordinary ability to regulate temperature—it absorbed the heat of Dziva during the long, warm cycles of the year and slowly released it during the cold periods, keeping the city’s interiors cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Its gleaming white surface also reflected the light, giving the city a shimmering appearance, almost as if it were glowing under Dziva’s deep red rays.
But K’ira’s home was different from most. She and her mother lived in one of the few five-story buildings in the city, perched high above the majority of the structures. Their apartment on the top floor offered a rare and beautiful view of Ahret’mar—a view that most citizens could only dream of. From the roof terrace, K’ira could see the full expanse of the city, its glowing white stone streets winding gracefully toward the horizon.
The terrace itself was a quiet sanctuary for her, with soft cushions and a shaded corner where K’ira would often sit and study. Plants from Imani, their agricultural sister planet, lined the edges, providing a splash of color amidst the white and red surroundings. The air was cool up here, and the sounds of the bustling city below were faint, carried to her ears by the occasional breeze.
On this particular day, K’ira’s long blond hair—which fell to her lower back—was styled in the traditional manner for her Come to Age ceremony. Her mother had carefully braided it that morning, weaving it into an intricate pattern and then winding it into a circular ring around her head, a mark of reverence and formality. The braided crown was an age-old tradition, symbolizing the transition from childhood to adulthood.
Her dress was equally special. It was a long, flowing garment without any prints or decoration, its simple elegance a sign of the occasion’s gravity. The material, however, was unlike anything else—made from the rare thread of the Ixilcaterpillar, a species that lived only in a single canyon on the Garden Planet, Imani. These caterpillars produced threads for only a handful of garments each cycle, and such garments were usually passed down from generation to generation. K’ira’s dress had once belonged to her mother, who had received it from her own mother before her. Now, it was K’ira’s turn to wear the cherished garment, a symbol of continuity and heritage.
The Ixil caterpillars, revered for their role in Tz’aqur culture, produced their precious threads only in the Great Canyon of Chaktun, and even then, only under certain conditions. The people of Okan believed that garments made from the Ixilthreads carried the blessings of the land itself, binding the wearer to their planet and ancestors. K’ira felt the weight of that connection as she adjusted the dress, knowing the history that came with it.
The weather on Okan was remarkably stable, with only slight fluctuations between the warmer and cooler cycles of the year, known as the Tzol’kren and the Tzol’kaal. Unlike the more extreme climates of other worlds, the temperature in Ahret’mar varied by only a few degrees between these cycles, hovering steadily within what humans from Earth would call mild conditions. But Okan’s zero point for temperature, called Ton’hun, was different. The normal variation was typically around five Ton’hun degrees between the Tzol’kren and Tzol’kaal periods, a steady, comfortable range that rarely demanded more than a simple change of attire.
However, today was different. The sky above Ahret’mar was unusually cloudy, a rare sight in a land where the sky was typically clear and Dziva dominated. K’ira glanced up, watching the thick clouds swirl lazily overhead. The occasional cloudy day was seen as a good omen in their culture. It was believed that the clouds were a gift from the gods, a promise of protection and prosperity. Rain, while rare, came only a few days out of the year, making water a precious resource. Every household, including K’ira’s, had water-collection systems built into the city’s architecture, ensuring that every drop was saved and stored for the dry days ahead.
This day, with its overcast skies and cool breeze, was regarded as particularly fortuitous, especially for a Come to Ageceremony. K’ira’s gaze lingered on the clouds, wondering if this small blessing of weather meant something more—something greater than what the day already held for her.
The Temple of Stars was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation. The Come to Age ceremony, an important event in the lives of every Tz’aqur citizen, gathered dozens of young people who had reached their fifteenth cycle. The candidates, all dressed in similar long garments of simple elegance, stood in the center of the grand hall in neat rows. They were called forward alphabetically, one by one, to receive the blessing of the Elders and be welcomed into adulthood.
K’ira stood somewhere in the middle of the group, waiting for her turn. She looked around and saw familiar faces—friends she had grown up with, all standing beside her, as nervous and excited as she was. It was common in Tz’aqur society for parents to group children of the same age together, ensuring they grew up in the same educational and social circles. Many of K’ira’s closest friends had been with her since her early years in school, and now they shared this moment of transition together.
The hall itself was a marvel of Tz’aqur architecture. Above them, the transparent dome of the temple allowed the dim, red light of Dziva to filter through the clouds. The stone beneath their feet was the same cool, white Kal’hun marble that the city was built from, but here, it shimmered faintly with an inner glow, as though the temple itself was alive with ancient energy.
The ceremony had another, more exciting element for those who had excelled during their education. For the candidates who had shown exceptional abilities—whether in their studies, arts, or sciences—the Council of Elders offered special assignments. This was the most coveted opportunity a young Tz’aqur could receive.
Some of her friends had already received such offers. They would be given prestigious roles—positions like teaching at the university, working in a government ministry, or even being granted their own research location. The recognition was a high honor, and it was known that those who received these assignments were destined for important futures within their society.
K’ira’s own accomplishments in robotics and artificial intelligence had caught the attention of the Elders, and though it hadn’t been formally stated, she had a feeling that she might be called upon for something beyond the ordinary path.
Her heart raced as the names were called, and each young candidate stepped forward, one by one. She clenched her hands in front of her, feeling the smooth, cool fabric of the dress her mother had passed down to her. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the day she would finally step into her own future.
At last, her name was spoken.
“K’ira.”
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. All eyes were on her now as she made her way to the center of the room, toward the Council of Elders. They waited for her, silent and solemn, the weight of centuries of tradition behind them.
The next chapter of her life was about to begin.
Chapter 2: The Offer
K’ira’s footsteps echoed through the grand hall of the Temple of Stars as she approached the Council of Elders. The silence of the room seemed to deepen with each step, the anticipation of the crowd heavy in the air. Her heart thudded in her chest, but her face remained calm, her expression carefully composed. This was the moment she had been preparing for her entire life.
The Temple of Stars was the most revered place in all of Ahret’mar, and its grand hall reflected the importance of every ceremony held within its walls. The hall itself was a vast space, 50 by 50 units, the Tz’aqur’s equivalent of meters, known as tz’oltun, with ceilings that soared high overhead into the massive transparent dome that capped the structure.
The dome was made from the same mysterious material that covered the ancient pyramid in the center of the city—an indestructible substance lost to time and technology. The dome reflected the light of Dziva, their red sun, in such a way that no artificial lighting was ever needed within the hall. The sunlight filtered through the dome’s crystalline surface, creating a soft, diffused glow that illuminated the entire space, shifting and shimmering as the sun’s position changed throughout the day. Even on overcast days, like this one, the hall was bathed in an otherworldly light, as if the dome itself carried the essence of Dziva.
The floor beneath K’ira’s feet was made from carefully arranged slabs of Kal’hun marble, but unlike the pure white stone that covered most of Ahret’mar, here the marble was inlaid with intricate patterns of color. Deep shades of crimson, gold, and violet traced complex geometric designs across the floor, forming a massive symbol at the center of the hall. It was an ancient symbol of balance, representing the harmony between science and religion, a reminder of the Tz’aqur’s foundational belief that the two could coexist.
This belief was echoed in the decoration of the walls, which were adorned with the portraits of the most distinguished scientific minds in Tz’aqur history. Figures like Zahl’qen, who had advanced the field of medicine and biology; Ka’talun, the mathematician who had discovered the principles of stellar alignment; and Ixe’na, the first engineer to integrate advanced robotics into daily life. Each portrait was framed in delicate filigree and placed with reverence along the towering stone walls, their faces gazing down on the hall with quiet wisdom.
But it wasn’t just science that was revered in this space. Above the portraits, engraved in shimmering silver letters, was a single inscription, a phrase that had become almost as important to Tz’aqur culture as the ancient teachings themselves:
“Religion is the key and will always be the key, but science helps save lives and make life easier. It stands beside religion, not below it.”
This inscription had been carved into the walls centuries ago, following the Great Accord of the Fifth Ha’b’al, an event that had forever changed the course of Tz’aqur society. The Great Accord, though not openly discussed anymore, was a turning point in their history, one that had reconciled the tension between religious dogma and scientific progress. While the details of the Accord had faded into myth, its legacy lived on in the very architecture of the Temple, a reminder that science and religion, though different, were meant to work in harmony for the benefit of all.
Today, K’ira stood in this very hall, not just as one of many young people completing their Coming of Age ceremony, but as part of an event that had deep historical significance. Though the detail had been largely forgotten by most of her people, her Coming of Age ceremony happened to fall on the anniversary of the first such celebration ever held in Ahret’mar. That first ceremony had taken place so long ago that the exact date was no longer remembered, and the importance of the day had faded into history.
But some believed that such a coincidence could not be ignored, that perhaps the alignment of the cycles carried with it deeper meaning. Whether K’ira knew it or not, her presence here today was part of a much older legacy, one that had yet to reveal its full importance. There was a subtle weight in the air, a quiet anticipation that seemed to linger in the corners of the hall. Something about this day felt different—though she could not explain why.
As K’ira walked toward the Council of Elders, the weight of the hall’s history pressed upon her. This was no ordinary space; it was the heart of their civilization’s most important beliefs, a place where the past and future converged, where the destiny of the Tz’aqur people was shaped.
The Elders—two men and one woman, an unusual imbalance in Tz’aqur society—sat at the far end of the hall, beneath the towering dome. Men were typically fewer in number due to the genetic makeup of their people, and it was rare for them to hold the majority in leadership roles. But here, Elder Zho, the woman, sat alongside Elder Rahm and Elder Maeko, both men. Each wore long, flowing robes of white, edged with silver. Their faces were obscured by the shadows of the high ceiling, but K’ira could feel their eyes on her as she drew closer.
Though the Elders were a mysterious and respected group, their individual histories were well known across Tz’aqur society.
- Elder Zho had once been one of the most renowned neurosurgeons in their world. She had spent decades as a brain surgeon, saving lives and advancing the understanding of the brain’s vast complexity. It was said that Zho’s knowledge of the mind was unparalleled. Her groundbreaking work in neural regeneration—using a blend of organic and synthetic methods to heal brain injuries—had cemented her legacy long before she ever took her place on the Council.
- Elder Rahm, before joining the Council, had been a theoretical physicist whose research into high-velocity travelhad nearly redefined the limits of space exploration. Rahm had discovered what was now called the Y’shaon Principle, a breakthrough that allowed near-light-speed travel, although the Tz’aqur had never fully explored the theory’s potential due to the energy costs and risks involved. His work was still regarded as one of the most significant advancements in the history of their civilization, and he remained a figure of deep intellectual curiosity.
- Elder Maeko was perhaps the most controversial of the three. A brilliant engineer in robotics, Maeko had once been celebrated for his advancements in human-like robots. He was instrumental in developing highly advanced, near-sentient machines, robots so indistinguishable from the Tz’aqur that many feared they would challenge the boundaries between human and machine. Eventually, the creation of these humanite robots was banned, but Maeko’s contributions to robotics were undeniable, even if they were steeped in controversy. His knowledge of artificial intelligence and robotics was why he was chosen for the Council despite his contentious past.
K’ira reached the center of the hall and stood still, facing the Elders. The air felt heavy, and the silence stretched on, as though time itself had paused.
Elder Zho, her white hair almost glowing in the dim light, leaned forward slightly. Her voice, when she spoke, was clear and strong.
“K’ira of Ahret’mar,” she began, her words formal and precise, “you have shown exceptional promise in your studies. Your accomplishments in the field of robotics and artificial intelligence have not gone unnoticed.”
The people of Tz’aqur did not have surnames. They were known only by their forenames, with their city of birth attached to distinguish them. It was an ancient custom, a reminder that they were all part of a larger whole, and that their identity was as much tied to the place of their origins as to their individual name. K’ira, having been born in the great city of Ahret’mar, would always carry that with her, even if she no longer lived there.
Elder Zho continued. “We are at a turning point in our society. Our reliance on robotics and artificial intelligence has grown exponentially, particularly with the automation of our mining colonies on Abeni and the agricultural systems on Imani, our Garden Planet. The Council believes that you, with your skills, have the potential to contribute to something much greater than what you have achieved so far.”
K’ira’s pulse quickened. She had always hoped that her work might lead to something important, but this felt beyond her wildest expectations. She stood tall, listening intently.
The second Elder, Elder Rahm, spoke next. His voice was lower, more deliberate. “We are prepared to offer you a unique opportunity, K’ira. An assignment that will allow you to fully realize your potential.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in. “You have the chance to become one of the youngest research leadsin our society’s history. We are offering you a research facility of your own, located on Imani, deep within the ancient ruins.”
K’ira blinked, her mind racing. The ancient ruins on Imani were sacred ground. No one was allowed to enter them, not even the most respected scientists and scholars. They had been off-limits for as long as anyone could remember, shrouded in mystery and myth. And now, she was being offered the chance to not only enter them but to conduct her research there?
“The facility will be located underground, beneath the ruins themselves,” Elder Rahm continued. “There are remnants of technologies there that have been untouched for thousands of Ha’b’al. We believe your expertise in robotics and artificial intelligence could help us unlock their secrets.”
K’ira’s thoughts spun wildly. This was no ordinary assignment—it was an invitation into the unknown, into a place that had been hidden from their society for millennia. She had always dreamed of making a significant contribution, but this was far beyond what she had ever imagined.
“We understand that this is a significant responsibility,” Elder Rahm added. “But we believe you are more than capable of rising to the challenge. Your work could help push the boundaries of our technology, advancing our understanding of artificial intelligence and its integration into our society.”
The third Elder, Elder Maeko, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was softer, but it carried a note of caution. “However, K’ira, this path is not without its risks. The facility is in a secluded and forbidden area, and while we have made every effort to ensure your safety, the ruins are unpredictable. There may be things there that we do not yet understand. We want you to know the gravity of this choice.”
K’ira felt the weight of Elder Maeko’s words. The ruins on Imani were filled with ancient secrets, remnants of a civilization long gone, but no one knew what truly lay beneath the surface. Could she really do this? Could she leave behind the life she had known, her family, and take on a challenge of this magnitude, in such a remote and forbidden place?
As if sensing her hesitation, Elder Zho leaned forward again. “We do not expect an immediate answer, K’ira. You are free to take the time you need to consider our offer. But know this—whatever decision you make, we believe in your potential. The future of our society may very well depend on the contributions of minds like yours.”
The words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, K’ira felt a swell of pride. They believed in her. Not just her teachers, not just her friends, but the Elders themselves. They saw something in her that she had always hoped was there, something extraordinary.
But that didn’t make the decision any easier.
K’ira and her mother made their way home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The quiet between them was not uncomfortable but heavy, filled with the weight of everything that had transpired. The sound of the rain followed them through the streets, a rhythmic reminder of the unusual day.
When they reached their five-story home, Lian’tha kissed her daughter softly on the forehead and whispered, “You will know what to do.”
K’ira nodded, though she still wasn’t sure.
That night, K’ira lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The rain had long since stopped, but the events of the day continued to whirl through her mind. She closed her eyes, trying to quiet her thoughts, but sleep came fitfully.
Her dreams were fragmented, shifting from one image to the next in a chaotic swirl. She saw the ancient ruins of Imani, dark and foreboding, stretching deep into the ground. Flickers of light—technology she had never seen before—sparked and hummed within the stone corridors. She saw herself working there, but she was not alone; shadows moved around her, whispering things she couldn’t understand.
In one moment, she was leading a team of researchers, her mind alive with ideas. In the next, she was standing in the ruins alone, surrounded by a feeling of deep, unsettling emptiness. Visions of robots—humanite robots—emerged from the shadows, their faces indistinguishable from her own people, and a strange voice echoed in the distance, warning her of something she could not grasp.
The dream shifted again. She was back in the Temple of Stars, standing before the Elders, but their faces were obscured by mist. Only Elder Maeko’s voice broke through, warning her once more of the risks, the dangers of stepping into the unknown.
K’ira tossed and turned, the images blurring together—nightmares, visions, and something in between. Her mind was trying to make sense of it all, processing the enormity of the day, but it was too much.
When she finally woke in the early hours of the morning, her body was tense, her heart pounding. She lay there, staring at the ceiling once more, trying to remember the details of her dreams. It had felt almost like visions, like her mind was trying to show her something important—but what?
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, but the unease remained.
Her mind started to work through the possibilities. She still hadn’t made a final decision, but one thing became clear: if she was to take on this challenge, she needed help. The ruins were dangerous and filled with unknowns, and if she were to explore them, she would need protection, something more than herself.
And then, the thought came to her—what if she requested a humanoid robot? One of the banned humanite models? They were forbidden, yes, but she knew Elder Maeko’s history. If anyone on the Council could grant such a demand, it was him. A humanoid robot would not only be able to assist with her research but also provide protection in the remote and unpredictable ruins.
It was a long shot, and she knew the Council would likely reject the request. But still, there was hope, however slim, that Maeko might consider her request, given his past work in the field.
K’ira didn’t know if her demand would be granted, but at least she had the beginnings of a plan. She would ask for the robot—at least that much.
Tomorrow, she would take her first step toward making her decision. And her future, as uncertain and daunting as it was, awaited.
Chapter 3: The Laws of Robotics
The night had passed in fitful dreams and restless thoughts, but as the first light of Dziva filtered through the narrow window of her room, K’ira made up her mind about one thing: robots would be a crucial part of her future.
The Tz’aqur had long relied on advanced robotics for many of the tasks in their society—automating the harsh environments of Abeni in the mining colonies and ensuring the agricultural systems on Imani produced an abundance of food. And yet, the use of robots was not without its rules and restrictions.
Centuries ago, following incidents where the boundaries between human and machine had blurred dangerously, the Council of Elders had laid down strict Laws of Robotics. These laws were designed not only to ensure the safety of the Tz’aqur people but also to establish clear limits on the extent to which robots could evolve or be used. The Four Laws of Robotics, with an additional unwritten law, became the foundation of all robotic development.
Interestingly, the Four Laws of Robotics were not unique to Tz’aqur society. They had appeared, bit by bit, in other civilizations too. Though the Tz’aqur did not fully understand how, it was known that these rules were eerily similar to the laws of robotics found in an ancient human civilization, so far back in time that the connection seemed impossible. And yet, the laws persisted in both worlds, almost identical in structure, as if some universal truth had emerged about how intelligent machines must coexist with their creators.
The Four Laws of Robotics were as follows:
- Rule 0: A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.
This fundamental law placed the survival and well-being of the entire species above all else. It was written into the core of every robot’s programming, a safeguard to ensure that no matter the complexity of the robot, it could never act against the collective interest of the Tz’aqur people. - Rule 1: A robot may not harm a human being, or, by inaction, allow a human being to come to harm, unless this would conflict with the Zero Law.
This was the first individual safeguard. While Rule 0 focused on humanity as a whole, Rule 1 protected individual lives, preventing robots from ever causing harm directly or through negligence. - Rule 2: A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First or Zero Laws.
This rule ensured that robots remained tools of the people, bound to serve and follow human commands, but with the critical restriction that no command could lead to harm. - Rule 3: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
Self-preservation was a crucial aspect of robotic intelligence. By protecting themselves, robots could continue to serve their human creators. However, they could never prioritize their own survival over the safety of humans or humanity as a whole.
These Four Laws were known to all, a public decree enforced in the construction and programming of every robot. But there was an additional unwritten law, one that had been added quietly, following the controversies of Elder Maeko’shuman-like robots.
- The Fifth Law: No robot shall ever be created to impersonate a human being.
This rule was unofficial, but it held as much weight as the others. After the creation of the humanite robots, which had blurred the line between man and machine, the Council had determined that no robot should ever mimic a human so closely again. The risk of confusion, manipulation, or unintended consequences had been deemed too great.
K’ira knew these laws intimately. Her studies in robotics and artificial intelligence had drilled these rules into her understanding of the field. Every design she had ever worked on, every algorithm she had written, had been shaped by these laws. They were the foundation upon which the entire robotic system of Tz’aqur was built.
Yet, the situation she now faced was unique.
She knew the ruins of Imani would be a dangerous place to explore, and though she had excelled in robotics, she would need more than just her intellect to navigate the hidden technologies and potential threats lurking in those forgotten tunnels. She needed help—and not just any help. A humanoid robot would be essential, not just to assist her in the technical work but also to provide protection in case something went wrong.
The only problem was Rule Five.
If she were to request a humanoid robot, it would undoubtedly challenge the Fifth Law. These robots had been banned for good reason; the fear of creating something too human-like, too close to the real thing, had unsettled her ancestors. But K’ira wasn’t interested in creating another human. She wanted something that could assist her and keep her safe, a tool and protector, nothing more. It wouldn’t need to impersonate a human—just function effectively in human-like environments, with the capacity to think and respond like an advanced assistant.
She thought of Elder Maeko, the one Council member who had lived through the controversy of the humanite robots. Would he be willing to reconsider the ban, or at least make an exception? After all, Maeko’s creations had been far ahead of their time, and if anyone understood the potential benefits of a humanoid robot, it would be him.
The question gnawed at her. She didn’t want to push too far or risk alienating the Council by appearing reckless. And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the right path.
Elder Maeko’s Perspective
As soon as Elder Maeko had learned of K’ira’s assignment, his mind had begun working through possibilities. While the Council of Elders had settled on the general details of K’ira’s research facility, it was Maeko who had truly considered the risks and challenges of sending someone so young and promising into the ancient ruins of Imani, a place filled with unknown dangers. He knew better than anyone that K’ira would need more than her intelligence and training to navigate those dark corridors.
His thoughts had turned to humanoid robots, despite the restrictions of the Fifth Law, which prohibited robots from impersonating humans. That law had been enacted largely because of his own past work—when his humanite robots had come too close to crossing the boundaries between man and machine. But now, as he reflected on K’ira’s unique situation, he began to reconsider whether such a restriction could be temporarily overlooked for the sake of her safety and success.
For Maeko, the solution wasn’t simply to send one robot to accompany K’ira on her mission—it was to send two.
Why two?
The idea had come to him naturally. In his years of work designing robots, Maeko had always known that no single machine, no matter how advanced, could fully replicate the range of tasks required by a human in a complex, unpredictable environment like the ruins of Imani. It was important to create complementary robots, each designed to excel in different aspects of the work.
But there was another reason. K’ira was young, and the isolation of working in the depths of Imani could weigh on her mentally. The ruins had a reputation for inducing a sense of deep unease, perhaps due to their vast emptiness and the secrets they held. Maeko understood that sending her alone would be unwise. A single robot wouldn’t provide enough support, emotionally or intellectually, for someone of K’ira’s talents and sensitivities.
So, two robots. Two distinctly different companions who could complement one another and provide balance—not just in the work but also in emotional support. He envisioned one designed with physical strength and the other with greater cognitive capabilities.
A female and a male.
The female robot would be the more physically capable of the two. Stronger, with more robust engineering, she would handle the heavy lifting, the manual tasks, and the potentially hazardous physical challenges of the ruins. Her design would incorporate advanced hydraulics and reinforced synthetic muscles to ensure that she could function in the harshest conditions. Maeko had also designed her with a suite of tools integrated into her limbs, making her the perfect assistant for difficult repairs or any sudden mechanical tasks that might arise.
The decision to make the female robot stronger was deeply rooted in Tz’aqur society itself. In their world, females were far more common than males, making up the majority of the population. As a result, the males were considered more valuable and were often protected, with roles that kept them away from danger. The females, on the other hand, were more frequently involved in physical labor, leadership, and even combat. It was not unusual for the females to take on more physically demanding roles, while the males, rarer and more carefully safeguarded, took on roles that were less hazardous.
Thus, it made perfect sense for Maeko to design the female robot as the stronger of the two, reflecting the reality of Tz’aqur gender dynamics. In this society, the females were often seen as the more resilient and physically capable, able to endure and handle the rough tasks necessary for survival and progress. The robot would embody those qualities—strength, durability, and competence in physical challenges.
The male robot, on the other hand, would be a thinker. He would be designed with more computational power, equipped with cutting-edge AI that would allow him to reason, problem-solve, and process vast amounts of data in real-time. He would not be as physically strong as the female, but his mind would be his strength. He would assist K’ira in the technical and scientific aspects of her research, running diagnostics, analyzing complex data from the ruins, and helping her with decision-making.
This division of roles was not just a reflection of robotic specialization but also mirrored the structure of their society—where males were often given positions of intellectual responsibility and females handled the more physical aspects of life. Maeko knew that the balance between these two robots would provide K’ira with the best of both worlds: strength when needed and intellect when required.
But what was most important, and what Maeko valued above all, was that both robots would be built with empathetic programming. K’ira would need more than just tools to help her with the mission—she would need companions who could offer her emotional support, who could connect with her on a deeper level, even if they were machines. She might be brilliant, but she was still young, and the long days and nights of working in isolation could wear on even the strongest mind.
Maeko knew this well. He had spent many of his younger years isolated, buried in his work, and he had seen how the loneliness had taken its toll on some of the brightest people he had ever known. K’ira would need someone to talk to, someone to share her thoughts with, and although these robots wouldn’t be human, they would provide the next best thing—company that could understand her.
Aesthetic Choices
Maeko’s mind turned to the appearance of the robots. He had always been fascinated by the subtle psychological effects that design choices could have on the people who interacted with his machines. The decision to create a female and male pair wasn’t just about functionality—it was about balance. Humans, or even the Tz’aqur, were drawn to familiarity, to symbols of order. The combination of both genders, even in robotic form, would subconsciously comfort K’ira, providing a sense of completeness.
But Maeko had an additional idea. The skin of the Tz’aqur people was naturally pale, almost a soft white-grey tone due to their unique environment and the light from their red sun. To make sure that these robots were clearly distinct from the Tz’aqur people, he decided to make their skin a shade that the Tz’aqur would consider truly alien—a pinkish hue, completely unlike anything seen among their people.
He didn’t choose this color because of ancient records or alien theories—it was because he knew that pinkish skin would be seen as foreign and unmistakably non-human. It would create a visual distinction, an obvious reminder that these robots were not meant to mimic or impersonate humans. The pale greyish-white of the Tz’aqur contrasted sharply with the warm, pinkish tones he envisioned for the robots, marking them as otherworldly in appearance.
This would satisfy the Fifth Law, ensuring that while the robots were humanoid in form, they would never be mistaken for true people.
An Unexpected Decision
Now, sitting in his private chamber, Maeko wondered if K’ira had come to the same conclusion about needing robots. He could sense the struggle she might face in asking for something that pushed against the Fifth Law. But what she didn’t know was that he was already considering it. In fact, he had already begun designing the two robots in his mind the moment he learned of her assignment.
He would have to tread carefully. The other Elders, especially Elder Zho, would be cautious about the proposal. The idea of sending humanoid robots into the ruins might stir up memories of the past—of the humanite controversy that had nearly ended Maeko’s career. But if he could frame the request properly, if he could make them understand that these robots weren’t designed to replace humans, only to assist, perhaps he could convince them.
After all, this wasn’t just about the mission. K’ira represented the future of their society. Her research could unlock secrets buried for thousands of cycles, and Maeko wasn’t about to let her fail.
He would propose two robots. One strong, one wise, both empathetic. Both designed to accompany K’ira into the depths of the ruins and back again.
And when the time came, he would make sure that the Council saw the wisdom in his plan.
K’ira’s Plan
While Elder Maeko thought through his designs and the potential objections from the Council, K’ira made her way to the robotics lab at the university. She had spent countless hours here during her studies, working late into the night, refining her designs and algorithms. The lab was filled with the hum of activity, students and researchers alike pouring over their creations, testing code and calibrating machines.
K’ira moved to her workstation, pulling up the schematics of her last project: an exploratory robotic unit designed for mining operations on Abeni. It was a sturdy, functional machine, built to handle the harsh terrain and high-pressure environments of the mining colonies. But it wasn’t suited for her new mission. She needed something that could move with more agility, respond faster, and handle complex tasks.
Her fingers flew over the interface as she began adjusting the design. The frame would need to be smaller, more compact, and the programming more sophisticated. She would need to integrate advanced AI capable of decision-making, something close to human-level reasoning.
But the design would have to follow the Four Laws, and, more importantly, skirt the edge of Rule Five. K’ira would have to make sure her robot wasn’t mistaken for a human, yet it had to function like one in key ways. A fine line to walk.
She paused, staring at the screen. Would this be enough? Would the Council see the value in her request, or would they shut it down, fearing a return to the days of humanite robots?
She didn’t know, but she was ready to take the risk.
A Difficult Conversation
That night, as K’ira sat at the dining table with her mother, Lian’tha, she decided to share her thoughts about the humanoid robots she hoped to request from the Council.
Her mother listened in silence, her eyes growing more concerned with each word. When K’ira finished explaining her plan, Lian’tha’s face was pale, her voice barely above a whisper. “K’ira, this is dangerous. More dangerous than you realize. I don’t like the thought of you down there… alone. And now with robots? You know how people feel about them.”
“I know, Mother,” K’ira replied, her voice soft but resolute. “But I won’t be alone. The robots—if I can get the Council to approve them—will be with me. They’ll help me. Protect me.”
Lian’tha shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “These ruins… no one knows what’s down there. You’re brilliant, K’ira, but you’re still my daughter. I—I can’t help but worry. What if something goes wrong? What if these machines malfunction?”
“I’ve thought about that. I’m designing them to follow the Four Laws. And if I’m careful—if I make sure they can’t be mistaken for humans—they’ll approve it.” K’ira looked down for a moment, then added, “Mother, I know it’s dangerous. But this is what I’ve worked for. I need to do this.”
There was a long silence, and then Lian’tha spoke again, her voice trembling. “Then let me come with you.”
K’ira blinked, surprised. “What?”
“If you’re going down there… I want to be with you. I can’t let you face this alone.”
K’ira’s heart ached at the offer, but she gently shook her head. “No, Mother. I can’t ask you to do that. This is my journey. My work. I need to face it myself.”
Lian’tha looked at her daughter for a long moment, her expression filled with both pride and fear. The tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I’m so scared.”
K’ira reached out, taking her mother’s hands in her own. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I’ll come back.”
They talked for a long time after that, discussing the risks and what K’ira hoped to accomplish. By the end of the conversation, Lian’tha’s voice was barely audible, choked with emotion and exhaustion. She agreed, though reluctantly, with a heavy heart and tears that seemed endless.
After her mother had gone to bed, K’ira sat in her room, staring at the darkened window. She felt the weight of her mother’s fear, but she knew she couldn’t let it stop her. This was her chance.
Taking a deep breath, K’ira composed a light letter—the Tz’aqur’s version of an electronic message—and sent it to the Council, detailing her request for humanoid robots to assist her in the ruins.
The decision now lay in their hands.
Chapter 4: The Robots and the Past
K’ira sat nervously in the grand hall of the Temple of Stars, the very place where her Coming of Age ceremony had been held. But today, she was alone, with no crowd, no friends by her side. Only the weight of the decision that the Council of Elders would make. Her light letter had been sent k’ak (5 days) ago, and now she waited to learn whether the Council would grant her request for humanoid robots to accompany her into the ruins of Imani.
After what felt like several tuns (hours), the doors to the hall opened. Elder Maeko was the first to appear, followed by Elder Zho and Elder Rahm. Each wore the same formal robes they always did, but Maeko’s expression carried a hint of something different—anticipation.
“K’ira of Ahret’mar,” Elder Zho began, her voice even and calm, “we have considered your request for two humanoid robots to assist you in your research at the ruins of Imani.”
K’ira’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for what came next.
Elder Maeko spoke next, his eyes meeting hers. “The Council has decided to grant your request. Two robots—one male, one female—will be designed to accompany you. We have also agreed to your additional specifications. They will be physically and mentally equipped to assist you in your work.”
K’ira’s relief was palpable, her mind whirling with excitement. But she also knew that this decision was monumental. The humanoid robots she had requested would be the first to be allowed in such a capacity since the humanite controversy. This was an exception, and it meant a lot.
“There is, however, a condition,” Elder Rahm interjected. “These robots will interact only with you, K’ira. They will not acknowledge or respond to anyone else. Furthermore, their existence is limited to the duration of your project. Upon completion of your research, the robots will be destroyed.”
K’ira nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and weight. “I understand. Thank you for this opportunity.”
The decision was final. K’ira had her robots—but the stakes were high. They would be hers alone, and when her work ended, so would they.
The Robots Arrive
Three k’akob (15 days) later, K’ira stood in her laboratory, watching as the final preparations were made. Before her stood two humanoid figures—one male, one female—their skin a striking pinkish hue, distinctly alien in appearance. The female robot stood taller and broader, her physique clearly designed for strength, while the male robot had a more slender frame, his build suggesting agility and intellectual capacity.
Both were unmistakably not human, but there was something comforting about their presence. Their eyes, though mechanical, had a softness to them, as if they could understand the emotions of those around them.
“Welcome,” K’ira said softly. The robots turned their heads to her in unison, acknowledging her as their creator and command giver. They moved with precision, ignoring the other engineers in the room, as per their programming.
The female robot spoke first, her voice calm but with a hint of authority. “I am designated Lura. I will be your assistant in all physical tasks.”
The male robot followed, his voice slightly higher in pitch, but deliberate. “I am designated Saren. I will assist you with analysis and problem-solving.”
K’ira felt a rush of pride. This was it—these two would be her companions on one of the most important missions of her life. The ruins of Imani awaited them, and she knew that with Lura and Saren, she was better equipped to face the unknown.
As K’ira was preparing to finish the adjustments to the robots, another machine arrived, rolling smoothly into the lab. It was a harvesting robot, designated Torin. Unlike Lura and Saren, Torin wasn’t humanoid but had a specialized build designed for agriculture. Its sleek frame housed a variety of tools for harvesting crops, collecting water, and preparing meals.
“We have assigned Torin to handle all your sustenance needs,” Elder Maeko had explained earlier. “You will not need to concern yourself with food or supplies during your stay at the ruins. Torin will harvest fresh food from the plants on Imani and ensure you always have enough provisions.”
K’ira smiled. The last thing she wanted to worry about while delving into the depths of the ruins was provisioning. With Torin assigned to handle the food and basic needs, her focus could remain entirely on her research.
The Tz’aqur society had always been strictly vegan, not by choice, but by necessity. The Garden Planet, Imani, was lush with plants and vegetation, but besides the rare caterpillars that produced valuable thread, there were no animals at all. Over the centuries, the Tz’aqur had adapted to this, developing advanced agricultural practices and growing a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, and grains to sustain their population.
As K’ira looked at Torin, she realized just how deeply ingrained this reliance on plant-based food was. Their society had become highly efficient in growing, harvesting, and consuming plant-based products, even creating sophisticated methods for turning simple vegetation into nourishing meals. The arrival of Torin would ensure that K’ira wouldn’t have to think about the logistics of feeding herself—her needs would be taken care of by the harvesting robot.
The Structure of Tz’aqur Days
As K’ira made the final preparations for her journey, she reflected on how her people had adapted to the long days on their planet. A single day on the Tz’aqur homeworld was equivalent to five Earth days, with the planet’s slow rotation creating long stretches of daylight and night. If they were to follow a traditional day-night cycle, as humans on Earth do, the Tz’aqur would sleep for over two Earth days at a time and stay awake for equally long periods. But that was impractical.
Instead, the Tz’aqur structured their days differently, working on a 20% rest cycle. They stayed awake for about 80% of the planet’s long day, which was the equivalent of four Earth days, and then slept for the remaining 20%, roughly one Earth day. This sleep cycle had become a natural part of their culture, and over generations, their bodies had adapted to these longer periods of wakefulness followed by deep, restorative rest.
Their schedule was divided into k’atuns, which represented sections of their long day. Each k’atun covered a part of the waking period, with specific activities assigned to different k’atuns based on the position of the sun and the people’s energy levels. For the Tz’aqur, this unique structure allowed them to work on prolonged projects, carry out detailed research, and perform tasks without the constant interruption of a traditional sleep cycle. It also meant that they could spend longer, uninterrupted periods on their work, like K’ira’s upcoming expedition to Imani.
The History of Isolation
As K’ira prepared for her mission, she found herself reflecting on the mysteries of her people’s past. The Tz’aqur had always been an isolated civilization, their travels limited to their home planet, the mining colony on Abeni, and the Garden Planet, Imani. Even though their technology could easily allow for interplanetary travel and exploration, they had chosen to remain confined to their system, only occasionally sending robots to transport goods and resources between the planets.
The deeper she thought about it, the more the question weighed on her mind: Why didn’t her people travel beyond their borders?
K’ira remembered the stories from her childhood, the ancient tales her teachers had shared. Long ago, the Tz’aqur’s ancestors had lived on Imani, the Garden Planet. It was lush, fertile, and full of life. The perfect place to thrive. But despite its beauty, the ancestors had left it behind. Why?
There was an old legend, passed down through generations, about a great calamity. It was said that something had happened on Imani—something terrible that had forced the Tz’aqur to flee the Garden Planet and seek refuge on their current home world, which was far more barren and difficult to cultivate. No one knew the full truth anymore; the details had been lost to time, hidden behind centuries of religious doctrine and forgotten records.
What the legend did say was that the ancestors believed that Imani had become dangerous. There were whispers of ancient powers, forces that were beyond their control, and it was these forces that had driven the Tz’aqur from their original home. Over the cycles, the people had built a new life on their current planet, one filled with religious observance, isolation, and caution.
Imani had been left behind as a sacred, almost forbidden place. Only robots now worked its soil and harvested its fruits. The Tz’aqur had never reclaimed it for themselves, and only rarely did people travel to the Garden Planet. K’ira’s mission was a rare exception, and it was still viewed with a great deal of caution by many.
The fear of what still lay beneath the surface of Imani was ingrained in the Tz’aqur psyche. Their religion had long since taken control of this narrative, reinforcing the belief that it was the will of the stars and gods that they remain isolated, that they stay close to home and not venture too far beyond the boundaries of their three-planet system.
This also explained why space travel beyond their solar system was almost unheard of. The Tz’aqur had the technological capability to reach other stars, to colonize new worlds, and explore the vastness of the galaxy. Yet, they had chosen not to. The reason was the same—an ingrained fear of the unknown and a deep-rooted belief that their people were meant to remain in their own corner of the galaxy.
The only exception was the occasional transport missions to the mining colonies on Abeni and the Garden Planet, which were always carried out by robots. Humans rarely traveled to these planets unless it was necessary, and even then, it was only in extreme cases, as K’ira’s mission was.
The irony was not lost on K’ira. Her people had built incredible machines and advanced technology, yet they were held back by the weight of their own history and beliefs.
As she prepared for her journey to Imani, K’ira couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath the surface of the Garden Planet. What had driven her ancestors away? And why had they never tried to reclaim it fully?
A Decision to Move Forward
K’ira stepped back, looking at Lura, Saren, and now Torin once more. These robots represented the cutting edge of technology—the very thing that could help her unlock the secrets of the past.
But K’ira also knew that their presence was a stark reminder of her people’s reluctance to explore. While robots were allowed to travel, humans were not, and it was this isolationism that had kept their society contained for so long.
She glanced at the tz’olk (transport schedule). The next robotic cargo transport to Imani would leave in a few k’akob (several days), and she, along with Lura, Saren, and Torin, would be on board. This was her chance to not only conduct her research but to unravel the mysteries of her people’s history.
The Garden Planet was waiting. And with it, the answers she sought.
Chapter 5: The Journey Begins
The day of departure arrived sooner than K’ira had expected. The anticipation of the journey to Imani, the Garden Planet, had occupied her thoughts for several cha’balob (several months Earth time), but now, as she stood on the loading dock where the transport waited, the reality of the mission settled in her chest like a heavy weight. This was no ordinary trip. The transport vessels used to ferry goods and resources between the planets were designed for robots, not humans. They were cold, mechanical, and most importantly, unpressurized.
K’ira had known this from the beginning, but it had been difficult to reconcile the idea of traveling in an airless container for two full cha’kalob (two weeks Earth time). Robots didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need warmth or the other comforts that humans required. But K’ira did, and for that reason, the Council of Elders had commissioned the construction of a special container—one designed specifically for her.
The engineers had modified one of the pressurized food containers, which normally housed provisions for long-term agricultural projects. This container would become her temporary home for the journey. It was fitted with an oxygen supply, heating elements to maintain a comfortable temperature, and a small sleeping area. The walls were reinforced to protect her from the harsh environment of space, and there was even a tiny viewport where she could catch glimpses of the stars during the long journey.
Inside the container, K’ira would also have access to a digital library, packed with thousands of years of Tz’aqur historyand research materials—everything she would need to pass the time and continue her preparations for the mission ahead. Lura, Saren, and Torin would be with her as well, their presence a constant reminder of the monumental task she was about to undertake.
Additionally, K’ira had been provided with a pair of advanced glasses that would assist her in performing complex tasks once she arrived on Imani. These glasses were AI-driven, capable of projecting detailed holograms in front of her. The holograms would adjust to her surroundings, giving her step-by-step visual guidance on how to assemble equipment, analyze data, or solve intricate problems. One of their key functions would be helping K’ira set up the communication station. Without the station, she would be completely cut off from the homeworld.
A second container would also be accompanying her on the transport, loaded with all the equipment she would need for her research and survival on Imani. Among the most important pieces of equipment was the communication station. Without it, K’ira would have no way to contact the homeworld once she reached the Garden Planet.
The standard robotic communication systems used on the transport and by the harvesting drones were not capable of human interaction—there was no voice or video transfer possible, only data. The communication station had been designed and built specifically for this mission. Because the Tz’aqur rarely traveled beyond their planet, they had no need for interplanetary communication devices until now. The station had been carefully engineered to transmit both voice and video over the vast distance between Imani and the homeworld, but K’ira would have to set it up herself once she arrived. Her glasses would guide her through the process, projecting the exact placement and alignment needed for each part of the setup.
The Farewell
The decision to keep the mission a secret had been made early on. The Council didn’t want the public to know that a human was being sent to Imani, nor did they want to reignite old fears about the Garden Planet. Only a few people were aware of her departure, and even fewer knew the details of her mission. That secrecy extended to her departure as well.
On the loading dock, only her mother and her three closest friends stood waiting to say goodbye. There were no grand farewells, no celebrations. Just the quiet sound of the machines loading the last of her supplies into the container.
K’ira turned to face her mother, Lian’tha, who had struggled to keep her emotions in check ever since the Council’s decision had been made. Now, standing there, Lian’tha’s expression was a mixture of pride and fear. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of K’ira’s long, blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“I can’t believe this day has come,” Lian’tha said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so brave, K’ira. More than I ever was.”
K’ira smiled weakly, trying to push back her own emotions. “It’s because of you, Mother. You’ve always believed in me.”
Lian’tha nodded, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Be safe, my daughter. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
K’ira’s friends, who had stood back respectfully during the exchange, stepped forward one by one. They each offered quiet words of encouragement, though their faces betrayed the worry they felt. This wasn’t just any mission—it was Imani, the planet that had driven their ancestors away so many centuries ago. The fear of the unknown lingered in the air, even as they tried to mask it with smiles.
“Bring back some incredible discoveries,” said Tzara, one of K’ira’s closest friends. “You’ve always been the one who wanted to know more than the rest of us.”
“I’ll do my best,” K’ira said, trying to match her friend’s playful tone.
After a few more exchanges, the time had come. K’ira took a deep breath and nodded to her friends. They stepped back as she made her way toward the container. The doors to the transport loomed large before her, and with each step, she felt the weight of the mission pressing down harder.
The engineers secured her inside the container, along with her three robots, a few suitcases filled with research equipment, and enough food to last the cha’kalob (two weeks). The small space was filled with a mixture of old and new—the raw, industrial design of the container clashing with the carefully engineered comforts that had been added for her survival.
Once inside, K’ira settled into the padded seat that would serve as her bed during the journey. Lura and Saren stood to either side of her, their mechanical forms towering over the confined space, while Torin, the harvesting robot, was positioned in the far corner. The air inside was cool, and the hum of the oxygen supply was the only sound breaking the stillness.
The Transport
The transport itself was a massive, hulking vessel designed for one purpose: to carry goods between the planets of the Tz’aqur system. Built with durability and efficiency in mind, it had no windows, no creature comforts—nothing but cold, empty cargo holds and endless rows of containers. It was essentially a flying warehouse, optimized for robots who didn’t need air, light, or warmth.
But K’ira wasn’t a robot, and she had to rely entirely on the pressurized environment of her container for survival. For the next cha’kalob (two weeks), she would be isolated in this small space, with only her robots, her AI glasses, and the digital library for company. The journey itself was routine for the transport systems, but for K’ira, it was the start of something far more important.
The flight to Imani would take approximately cha’kalob (two weeks), by Tz’aqur time, their slow planetary rotation stretching out the days. K’ira knew that the monotony of the trip would be broken only by the occasional check-ins with Lura and Saren, who would maintain the container’s systems and ensure that everything remained functional. Beyond that, she would have nothing but time to think and prepare.
Into the Void
As the transport began to rumble and lift off from the surface, K’ira felt the slight vibration through the walls of her container. The stars outside her small viewport slowly began to shift as the transport ascended into the blackness of space.
Lura, ever practical, moved to her side. “The systems are functioning as expected, K’ira. Oxygen levels are stable, and the temperature is within optimal range.”
“Thank you, Lura,” K’ira replied, her voice quiet as she stared out into the void. There was something both awe-inspiring and terrifying about space—the endless expanse of it, the silence. She had never been off-planet before, and now, for the first time, she felt the weight of it. The isolation.
Saren stepped forward, his voice calm and analytical. “I have accessed the digital library and updated our database with all the latest research on Imani. You may review it at your leisure.”
K’ira smiled. “I’ll need something to keep me occupied for the next cha’kalob.”
As the transport reached its cruising altitude and began the long journey through space, K’ira felt a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation. She was leaving everything she had ever known behind—her mother, her friends, her home. In two ak’atuns (two Earth days), she would arrive on Imani, the planet that held the secrets of her ancestors. The planet that had once driven her people away.
For now, though, there was nothing to do but wait.
Secrets of Imani
The rhythmic hum of the transport vessel was the only sound that filled the small container as the days stretched into what felt like endless ak’atuns. K’ira, having settled into the routine of her journey, decided to delve into the digital librarythat had been carefully curated for her. With Lura and Saren maintaining the systems and Torin silently attending to the food supplies, she had nothing but time to prepare.
Activating her AI-driven glasses, K’ira watched as the interface projected holographic screens in front of her, floating in mid-air. She sifted through various topics and datasets, but her focus kept returning to Imani itself—the planet that was her destination. Though she had read what she could in the past, now that the journey was truly underway, she wanted to absorb every detail.
The library contained geological reports, detailed descriptions of the plant life, and notes on the ecosystem of the Garden Planet. But as K’ira navigated deeper into the sections on history, something unsettling began to emerge. The information about Imani’s past wasn’t deleted—it simply wasn’t there. She knew if there had been any restricted or classified data, her system would notify her of it. Since her clearance level matched that of the Council of Elders, there were no forbidden entries—just gaps in the data. It was as though the history had never been recorded in the first place.
Reports from ancient times mentioned that the planet had once been home to the Tz’aqur’s ancestors, but almost all of the specifics were missing. There were a few mentions of a great calamity—something that had driven the Tz’aqur people off Imani and onto their current homeworld—but no records existed about the nature of the disaster. The details were suspiciously absent, as though history itself had been deliberately avoided, never written down.
She leaned back in her seat, the soft light of her holographic display glowing in front of her. Why was the past of Imani so buried? Why had her people abandoned such a paradise and never returned? K’ira felt a strange unease as if she were on the cusp of uncovering a truth that had been hidden for far too long.
What Could Have Happened?
As she pondered these questions, K’ira found herself theorizing. What could have been so catastrophic, so profound, that her ancestors would not only leave Imani but also deliberately bury its history? The possibilities began to unfold in her mind.
- An Environmental Collapse? Could it have been that the very soil of Imani had become unstable, poisoned, or depleted in some way? Perhaps a natural disaster—massive earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, or a shift in the planet’s magnetic fields—had rendered the planet unsafe for human life. But if that were the case, why were the robots still able to work there unhindered? The planet was still fertile, at least according to the reports on robotic agriculture.
- An Ancient Technology? Could there have been some ancient technology or artifact hidden beneath Imani’s surface, something dangerous or uncontrollable? Something that the ancestors feared might harm them, or worse, alter their very existence? K’ira knew that the Tz’aqur had always been cautious about delving too deeply into their past, especially where technology was concerned. Could the ruins she was being sent to explore hold something that her people had long since abandoned out of fear?
- A Political or Religious Schism? Another possibility weighed on K’ira’s mind: political or religious conflict. The Tz’aqur were a deeply religious people, their belief in the stars and celestial events shaping much of their culture. What if the departure from Imani had been driven by some ancient religious schism? A power struggle between factions that resulted in a decision to leave the planet behind, along with its history? If there had been a conflict that deep, it would explain why the records had been erased—those in power might have wanted to control the narrative and suppress the truth.
- Something More Sinister? K’ira couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps it wasn’t a natural disaster or political conflict at all, but something far more sinister. The vague mentions of a great calamity seemed almost intentionally vague, as if the truth was too dangerous to record. Could there have been a sentient force on Imani? Some kind of intelligence or entity that had been discovered and then concealed from future generations? A force that had threatened their existence so profoundly that the Tz’aqur had fled without looking back?
A Growing Sense of Purpose
As the cha’kalob (two-week journey) continued, K’ira found herself becoming more and more convinced that her mission to Imani wasn’t just about exploring ancient ruins or advancing scientific knowledge. It was about uncovering the truth—a truth that had been intentionally hidden from her people for generations.
The Council had surely known this when they approved her mission. Elder Maeko must have understood the gravity of what she was walking into. But instead of warning her, they had kept their reasoning cryptic, hiding behind formal approvals and strategic silence. Perhaps they didn’t want her to know the full story. Or perhaps they wanted her to discover it on her own.
Uncertainty
Staring out into the vast blackness of space, K’ira felt the weight of her mission settle even more heavily upon her shoulders. The holographic projections from her glasses flickered before her as she reviewed the sparse historical records again, searching for any clue she might have missed. But no matter how deeply she dug, the same vagueness and gaps in information persisted.
As the transport carried her ever closer to Imani, K’ira knew one thing with absolute certainty: whatever awaited her on the Garden Planet was more than just ancient ruins and untouched history. Something had happened there—something powerful enough to make her people leave their paradise behind. And now, it was her responsibility to find out what.
Chapter 6: Arrival on Imani
The hum of the transport’s engines filled the air as the vessel descended through Imani’s atmosphere. From her small viewport, K’ira could see the deep red hues of the planet’s sky, the light of Dziva casting long shadows across the surface. The descent had been steady at first, but as the ship neared the ground, the turbulence increased. K’ira gripped her seat, feeling her body jolt with each rough movement.
The landing was far from gentle.
With a violent shudder, the ship made contact with the planet’s surface, jerking K’ira forward against her safety harness. The impact rattled the walls of her container, knocking several items from their secure positions. Her heart raced, but the robots around her—Lura, Saren, and Torin—remained unaffected by the chaos. They were built for such landings, after all.
For K’ira, however, it was a different story. The discomfort of the rough landing was compounded by the sudden realization that Imani’s gravity was much higher than what she was used to. The moment she unbuckled herself from her seat, she felt the weight pressing down on her limbs, pulling her body toward the floor with an unfamiliar force. Standing up became a monumental task.
She staggered as she tried to rise, her legs trembling under the new strain. Lura was immediately by her side, her metallic hand steadying K’ira’s shoulder.
“Careful, K’ira,” Lura’s voice was calm but firm. “Imani’s gravity is 30% higher than the homeworld’s. It will take time for your body to adjust.”
K’ira nodded, struggling to take even a few steps. Every movement felt as though she were dragging weights tied to her limbs. Saren moved to her other side, offering additional support as they helped her towards the exit of the container.
But it wasn’t just the gravity that was taking its toll. The air on Imani was thinner, and with each breath, K’ira felt the effort it took to pull oxygen into her lungs. The combination of the heavier gravity and the thin atmosphere left her feeling lightheaded and exhausted, every breath a battle against the weight pressing down on her chest.
“Thanks,” K’ira muttered, her voice strained. She had known the gravity and atmosphere would be different, but the reality of it was overwhelming. Her body ached with the effort of simply moving, and the thin air made every step feel like an ordeal.
The Landscape of Imani
As they exited the container and set foot on Imani’s surface, K’ira finally had a clear view of the landscape. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. The ground beneath her feet was rocky in many places, jagged and uneven, but it was far from barren. All around her, the planet teemed with life. Vibrant green vegetation covered much of the terrain, the lush plant life growing thick and wild.
Fruit-bearing trees and plants stretched toward the sky, their leaves a kaleidoscope of greens, yellows, and reds. Bushes overflowed with ripe, colorful fruits, some that resembled Earth’s fruits, but with hues that were far more vivid. Low-lying crops grew in neat rows, producing vegetables and something akin to wheat, their golden stalks swaying in the humid air. The variety of produce was staggering. It was clear that Imani’s soil was as rich and fertile as the reports had suggested, capable of sustaining a vast array of life.
But the beauty of the planet also posed a challenge.
The ruins K’ira had come to explore were barely visible beneath the thick jungle-like growth that had overtaken them. Vines twisted around the crumbling structures, their thick tendrils wrapping around ancient stone pillars and doorways. Large trees had taken root among the ruins, their roots spreading through the cracks in the old walls. Brightly colored flowers dotted the landscape, but they, too, were part of the creeping vegetation that choked the ruins.
If they were going to begin work on the ancient technology, the overgrowth would need to be cleared first.
The Broken Equipment
As the harvesting robots unloaded the equipment containers, Saren approached K’ira, holding a damaged piece of machinery in his hands.
“One of the communication station’s solar sails has been damaged during the landing,” Saren informed her, his tone as neutral as ever. “It appears the rough impact caused the mechanism to fracture.”
K’ira felt her heart sink. The solar sail wasn’t just a power source—it was also the sending unit for the communication station. It needed to be shot high into the atmosphere to capture both sunlight and transmit signals back to the homeworld. But it wasn’t just one sail that was required.
For the communication system to function, all of the solar sails needed to be deployed into orbit. They would form a network, each sail positioning itself in such a way that they would together act as a giant satellite dish, amplifying the weak signals from the homeworld. Without this amplification, any signals sent from Imani would be far too weak to reach the home planet, and receiving signals would be equally impossible. The system would only work if all the sails were functioning as one.
“How bad is it?” K’ira asked, wincing as she tried to step forward.
“The sail itself is intact,” Saren replied, “but the launching mechanism has been compromised. We will need to repair it before the system can function.”
K’ira sighed, frustration bubbling up inside her. “Alright. Let’s start with that.”
With Lura and Saren’s help, they began inspecting the damaged equipment. The launch mechanism was more intricate than expected, and the parts were delicate. While the robots could handle the heavy lifting, K’ira’s technical expertise would be needed to properly repair the system.
But even as they worked, K’ira could feel the exhaustion setting in from the higher gravity and thinner air. Every movement drained her energy, and it was clear that this would take time. They wouldn’t be able to finish it today.
“We’ll continue tomorrow,” K’ira said, rubbing her tired eyes. “Let’s get the basic repairs done first.”
Assessing the Ruins
As they worked, K’ira couldn’t help but notice the state of the ruins that surrounded them. The ancient structures, once mighty and towering, were now mere remnants of their former glory. Time and nature had reclaimed them. Vines and thick foliage crawled over the stone, making it nearly impossible to see the full scope of the buildings.
Lura and Saren moved toward the ruins, beginning to assess the situation. Torin, with his authority over the harvesting robots, approached K’ira.
“They are capable of clearing this overgrowth,” he stated, his mechanical voice calm, “but it will take time.”
K’ira sighed as she scanned the dense, jungle-like vegetation. The plants were thick, their roots intertwined with the ancient stone. The work would be slow and tedious, but necessary.
Torin’s lenses blinked as he surveyed the scene. “The harvesting robots have completed enough work for today. They cannot assist further at this time.”
K’ira frowned. “So we have to wait?”
“Yes,” Torin confirmed. “They will be able to continue the task tomorrow.”
K’ira nodded. As much as she wanted to clear the ruins immediately, she knew Torin was right. The harvesting robots had limitations—set to prioritize their regular tasks over new ones. They had already helped unload equipment and prepare her shelter. Any further assistance would have to wait until the following day.
“We’ll assess the area tonight,” K’ira said, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. “We’ll start clearing in the morning.”
Torin: The Harvester Leader
As the assessment of the ruins concluded, K’ira found herself glancing at Torin, the harvesting robot assigned to her mission. Unlike the other machines, Torin held a higher position in the robotic hierarchy of the harvesters. He was designed not only to perform his regular harvesting tasks but also to direct the other harvesting robots when necessary. This was a deliberate design choice, made to ensure that K’ira would have help on Imani.
Without Torin’s leadership capabilities, the other robots would simply continue their pre-programmed routines, focused solely on harvesting crops from Imani’s surface. They wouldn’t have recognized any additional tasks outside of their programmed duties. With Torin directing them, however, the robots could temporarily assist with tasks like assessing the ruins and unloading equipment—though their participation was limited.
Torin’s authority only extended as far as his ability to ensure the other robots could still complete enough harvesting to fulfill their main function. If too much of their time was diverted to K’ira’s mission, they would revert to their original tasks, ignoring any additional instructions.
It was a delicate balance—one that K’ira and Torin had to navigate carefully.
Living on the Surface
With the elevator broken, the communication station still in need of repair, and the overgrown ruins yet to be cleared, K’ira had no choice but to set up camp on the surface of Imani. The harvesting robots, under Torin’s direction, placed her transport container next to the entrance of the ruins, providing her with shelter for the time being.
It wasn’t much—a cramped, industrial container meant for a short journey rather than long-term living—but it was better than nothing. Inside, K’ira made the best of the space she had. The container had enough supplies to last her for a while, and if needed, the harvesting robots would provide more—gathering food and resources from the planet’s abundant vegetation. As long as Torin maintained his leadership, the other harvesters would continue to assist when necessary.
But living on the surface wasn’t easy. The gravity continued to weigh on her body, and even simple tasks became exhausting. The higher gravity meant that her muscles ached constantly, and each movement required far more effort than she was used to. Her body would adjust over time, but for now, she was painfully aware of the strain.
To make matters worse, the environment was extremely humid—something K’ira had never experienced before. The air was thick with moisture, and the ground was slick with puddles of water that had gathered from the constant condensation. The humidity clung to her skin, chilling her in the already cool air. She shivered, her clothing damp, her body cold and aching under the pressure of the gravity and the unfamiliar environment.
Sensing her discomfort, Saren, with his built-in empathy functions, approached her silently. His sensors could detect the subtle signs of her discomfort—her slight shiver, the tension in her muscles. He retrieved a soft, insulated blanket from the supply kit. Without a word, he gently wrapped the blanket around K’ira’s shoulders, securing it in place with a precision that came not only from his programming but from an understanding of her need for warmth and comfort.
K’ira blinked up at him, surprised but grateful. “Thank you, Saren,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Saren inclined his head slightly. “Your body is struggling to adapt to the environment. The blanket will provide sufficient warmth to counter the effects of the humidity and cold.”
K’ira managed a weak smile. “You’re always so practical. But thank you.”
Exhaustion and the Day/Night Cycle
As night fell on Imani, K’ira lay in her small cot inside the container, staring up at the ceiling. Her breathing felt difficult, the weight of the gravity pressing down on her chest, making each breath feel heavier than the last. It was as if the planet itself was challenging her, daring her to keep going despite the overwhelming pressure.
Despite the fact that it wasn’t yet time for her usual sleep cycle, K’ira was completely exhausted. The strain of the day—the new environment, the broken equipment, the overgrown ruins—had taken its toll on her body and mind. She knew she needed to rest, even if it was earlier than she was used to.
What K’ira didn’t yet realize was that the day/night cycle on Imani was vastly different from what she was accustomed to on her homeworld. Unbeknownst to her, Imani’s day/night cycle mirrored Earth’s, with regular rotations of light and darkness. It was yet another adjustment she would need to make—though it would be several more days before she fully understood this new rhythm.
The day had been rough, and the challenges ahead seemed overwhelming, but she knew that this was only the beginning.
Tomorrow, they would continue repairing the communication system and begin the slow process of clearing the overgrown ruins. There was no telling how long it would take, but K’ira was determined to uncover the secrets that lay beneath the surface.
Chapter 7: The Unveiling
The days on Imani blurred into each other as K’ira and the robots worked tirelessly. Though she was aware of the passing time, the tasks ahead seemed monumental, and K’ira found herself constantly adjusting—not just to the planet’s gravity and thin air, but also to the challenges of her mission. Three long k’inob passed as the work unfolded, each day a test of her stamina and determination.
Clearing the Ruins and Cleaning the Jungle
Clearing the overgrown jungle vines from the ruins had quickly become more challenging than anticipated. The vines were no ordinary plant matter—they secreted a thick, sap-like fluid that hardened within moments, gluing the robotic tools together with an adhesive so strong that even the robots struggled to pry them apart.
“Lura, your tools are stuck again,” K’ira observed, watching the large robot’s progress slow to a halt as her cutting devices jammed for the third time that tun (hour). The thick vines had tangled her tools once more, rendering them useless until they were cleaned.
Lura paused and held up her coated blades, the fluid already hardening into a stubborn, amber-like substance. “The adhesive is clogging the system,” she noted calmly, as if it weren’t the fourth time they had dealt with this issue since the start of the k’in.
The only way to remove the hardened sap was with extensive heat, forcing them to stop work entirely every 30 wak’ (minutes) to perform a 40-50 wak’ cleaning cycle using a portable thermal unit. Each time they fired up the unit, it took a considerable amount of time to melt away the adhesive, leaving the tools clean enough to resume work.
“This is going to take much longer than expected,” K’ira muttered, her frustration mounting. The ruins were so overgrown that every advance felt like one step forward, two steps back. And because the robots could only dedicate a few tunob (hours) per k’in (day) to this task due to their other priorities, the process was agonizingly slow.
By the end of each k’in, only a small portion of the vines had been cleared, and despite their efforts, there were entire sections of the structure still choked by the creeping growth. Worse yet, the fluid inside the vines wasn’t just a nuisance—it was slowing their progress to a crawl. Lura and Saren had to constantly stop and recalibrate their tools, which meant every 30 wak’ they lost almost a tun just cleaning.
As the repetitive cycle of cutting and cleaning dragged on, K’ira’s frustration deepened. She realized that Imani’s k’inob were vastly different from those on her home planet. What felt like a normal workday on her homeworld stretched endlessly here. Her people’s time measurements—wak’ (minutes), tun (hours), k’in (day)—were ill-suited to this world’s rhythm, and K’ira began to think about renaming them to fit the longer, slower flow of Imani.
Fixing the Solar Sail Launch System
While the vines were being cleared, they also faced the daunting task of repairing the solar sail launch system. The launch mechanism, fractured during the rough landing, was the key to getting the sail into orbit. Without it, they had no way to re-establish communication with the homeworld.
Saren, as always, was meticulous in his approach. “First, we need to assess the damage to the electromagnetic coil assembly,” he said as they knelt beside the damaged launch mechanism. His mechanical hands moved swiftly over the components, inspecting every crack and fault in the system. K’ira hovered nearby, providing input where she could.
“The coil is burnt out,” she observed, leaning in closer. “We’re going to need to replace the superconducting filaments inside the coil housing.”
Lura stepped in, handing them the new filaments from the toolkit. “You’ll need to stabilize the capacitor banks first,” K’ira noted. “If we don’t, the coil will just burn out again.”
Saren worked methodically, reassembling the capacitor banks and redirecting power through the secondary regulator to prevent an overload. “Increase the coolant flow to the thermal dissipation unit,” he suggested, already making the adjustments as he spoke.
Meanwhile, in the ruins, Lura returned to clearing the vines, her tools now cleaned and ready to continue. But it didn’t last long. After another 30 wak’, the sap clogged her blades once more, and the robots had to stop for another tedious round of cleaning. K’ira found herself moving between tasks—helping with the solar sail repair and managing the frustrating pace of clearing the ruins. She was starting to lose track of how long they had been on Imani; the k’inob blended together in a haze of endless work.
She wiped her brow, exhausted. The humidity pressed heavily on her body, and the higher gravity continued to sap her strength. By the end of each k’in, her muscles burned, and her lungs struggled to pull in enough air.
Lura once again turned on the thermal unit, melting away the hardened sap on her tools as the process repeated for the umpteenth time. K’ira sighed. She couldn’t afford to stay focused on just one task. “Let’s finish this,” she muttered, her eyes drifting back toward Saren, who was completing the final touches on the launch guidance system for the solar sail.
Launching the Sail
The moment to launch the solar sail finally arrived after several k’inob of repair work. K’ira stood by the launch pad, her heart racing. “Are the systems ready?” she asked, her voice edged with tension.
“Systems are ready,” Saren confirmed in his even tone. “Launch window is optimal.”
With a deep breath, K’ira gave the go-ahead. The launch mechanism whirred to life, the sail gleaming in the red light of Dziva as it was carefully positioned. The countdown began, and with a sudden burst, the sail shot upward, its silver surface disappearing into the sky.
K’ira watched its ascent, her breath catching in her throat as she hurried to the Teekat (radar) to monitor the sail’s progress. Saren was already there, tracking the trajectory. “The sail is entering orbit,” he reported.
Slowing Progress and Adjusting to Time
Back at the ruins, progress was painfully slow. The combination of the vines’ adhesive sap, the constant need for cleaning, and the limited hours they could dedicate each k’in made it clear that clearing the ruins would take far longer than K’ira had anticipated. She realized that the k’inob here stretched much longer than on her home planet, and her usual sense of time no longer applied.
“I need to redefine the wak’ and tun here,” she murmured to herself, her frustration bubbling up. The Mayan time measurements from home no longer made sense on a planet where the day stretched far beyond what she was used to. She was adapting to this new world, but it would take time—more time than she could have imagined.
Unnoticed Changes in K’ira’s Body
As the third k’in came to a close, K’ira accepted that her body’s adaptation would be a slow, grueling process. She was only beginning to feel the slightest improvement, and she knew there was a long way to go before she could feel fully functional in this new environment.
Unnoticed by K’ira, however, the environment was changing her body in ways she had not yet realized.
Due to the higher gravity, her joints and muscles had tightened significantly, compressing her frame slightly. She had shrunk by a small margin, though not enough for her to notice, but enough for others to perceive a slight difference. At the same time, her body had begun to compensate for the strain by building more muscle mass. Her legs, once slender and flat like most of her people, had developed visible muscular definition. Her calves now stood out clearly, firm and toned, and her thighs had thickened, showing strength that hadn’t existed before.
Her arms experienced a similar transformation. The once smooth, thin lines of her upper arms were now more prominent, as her biceps and triceps had developed from both her daily physical effort and the constant pull of gravity. Even her forearms had grown stronger, displaying lines of muscle she had never seen on her body before.
What struck the most noticeable difference, however, was her figure. On their home planet, there had never been a stark physical difference between males and females—both sexes were similarly slender and streamlined, with only subtle variations in reproductive organs. But Imani had caused something new to emerge in K’ira. Her hips had widened slightly, giving her more noticeable curves, and her buttocks had become rounder, fuller, a trait previously unheard of in her people.
Her chest had also changed. Where before, her breasts had been small and nearly indistinguishable, they had now begun to grow, rounding out in a way that felt completely alien to her. She hadn’t yet noticed the shift fully, but her body was slowly becoming more feminine, more akin to the physical differences between sexes on Earth, though her society had no history of such changes.
Perhaps the most curious development was the new hair growth. On her home planet, her people had only grown hair on their heads. But now, K’ira had noticed fine, blonde stubble beginning to appear beneath her arms and around her lower body. The hair was short and thin, almost imperceptible, but its presence was undeniable. It was another change brought on by the environment of Imani—her body adapting in ways she could not yet fully comprehend.
Lastly, without her realizing it, K’ira’s skin had begun to develop a faint pinkish hue. It wasn’t dramatic, but in contrast to the pale, almost greyish skin of her people, it was noticeable—almost as though her body was slowly transforming to better adapt to Imani. These changes, while subtle for now, hinted at deeper biological shifts happening within her as she continued to adapt to this alien world.
Chapter 8: The Holocall and K’ira’s Transformation
The first communication from home in what felt like an eternity arrived, and K’ira couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as she read the Council’s response. The message was cold and direct.
“K’ira of Ahret’mar, we acknowledge your report but express our disappointment with the current rate of progress. The resources at your disposal are sufficient; no additional support will be provided. You must utilize what you have more efficiently.”
The words stung. K’ira had been working tirelessly under the harsh conditions of Imani, struggling against the planet’s gravity, its humid air, and the endless jungle vines that seemed to regenerate almost as quickly as they were cleared. Her body was changing, adapting, but at a slow and painful pace. Now, to hear that the council expected more—without any additional resources—was a blow.
They also mentioned that her mother, Lian’tha, could now be reached at a new communication address. No explanation was provided as to why her mother had been relocated or what circumstances had caused the shift. The lack of details gnawed at K’ira’s mind, making her worry even more about her mother’s condition.
Nonetheless, she resolved to contact her mother as soon as she had a moment. The council’s message was clear: she would need to rely entirely on the robots and the resources already at her disposal.
The Holocall Device
The Holocall was an advanced communication system, a marvel of Tz’aqur technology, allowing for real-time interaction as if the two individuals were standing face-to-face. It worked by scanning the user’s body and projecting a monochrome 3D model of them, either life-sized or scaled down, in front of the recipient. The hologram, although lacking realistic color, was detailed enough to capture subtle facial expressions, such as the flicker of a smile or the glimmer of tears. Every gesture was faithfully represented, making the Holocall feel almost personal, even though the holographic image remained ethereal and distant.
The system’s projection gave the impression of a person standing in the same room, although they appeared in shades of gray. K’ira had always marveled at the technology, but today, she was too focused on her mother’s condition to pay much attention to the marvel in front of her.
The Conversation with Lian’tha
As K’ira activated the call, her mother’s figure appeared, flickering for a moment before stabilizing into the familiar, though slightly distorted, shape of Lian’tha. Her mother looked tired, her movements sluggish. But there was no obvious sign of injury, which was a relief.
“K’ira…” Lian’tha’s voice was steady but carried an undercurrent of anxiety. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“What happened? Why were you moved?” K’ira’s words were sharp, but her concern was evident.
Lian’tha sighed deeply. “Some religious extremists found out about your mission. They showed up at my home… shouting at me.”
K’ira’s stomach tightened. Religious extremists? While their society forbade violence—considered one of the gravest sins—aggression in the form of intimidation still left a lasting scar.
“They didn’t hurt me,” Lian’tha reassured her quickly, sensing K’ira’s rising fear. “They wouldn’t. But it was terrifying. The council thought it best to move me to a more secure location within the temple district.”
K’ira felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Her mother had never asked for this kind of disruption, but because of her daughter’s work, she was now in the middle of it. “I’m sorry,” K’ira whispered. “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“It’s not your fault,” Lian’tha said softly. “You’re doing something important, and I’m proud of you. I just wish it hadn’t drawn so much attention.”
Lian’tha paused, her expression growing more serious. “It’s not just me, K’ira. Your friends—Nim’eh, Vira, and Sha’len—have been moved to the temple area too. The council thought it best to keep them out of harm’s way as well.”
K’ira’s heart sank. She remembered her three closest friends—those who had been at the docks with her, saying goodbye before her journey began. Nim’eh, her childhood friend, with her quick wit and resourcefulness, who had grown into an expert on materials and metallurgy, designing complex alloys for their planet’s industrial systems. Vira, soft-spoken yet sharp, whose keen understanding of history and languages made her one of the youngest lecturers at the university. And Sha’len, who excelled in theoretical physics and had already contributed to some of the most complex gravitational theories their people studied.
“They’re okay,” Lian’tha continued quickly. “But they’ve been told to stay under the council’s protection for now. No one expected things to get this tense.”
The news added to K’ira’s growing burden of responsibility. She hadn’t realized how her mission would ripple back home, affecting the lives of those she cared about.
Physical Changes During the Holocall
As the conversation went on, K’ira could feel her mother’s eyes lingering on her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. Lian’tha was noticing something—her daughter’s subtle physical changes. Though the Holocall’s monochrome projection was not fully realistic, it was detailed enough for her mother to see that K’ira looked different. Her mother’s eyes scanned her features, hesitating on her chest and shoulders as if she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.
For a brief moment, Lian’tha seemed ready to ask, but she remained quiet, unsure if this was just a distortion caused by the technology or if K’ira had truly changed. On the other end, K’ira tried her best to mask the changes. She shifted her posture, attempted to keep her arms crossed over her chest, and tried to remain seated in a way that hid the growing curvature of her body.
Neither of them spoke of it, but the tension was there—lingering in the unspoken questions.
The Holocall was a lifeline now. Ever since the initial conversation, K’ira and her mother, along with occasional updates from her friends, had been in regular contact, calling each other almost every Ahret’m K’in—roughly every 5th day/night cycle on Imani. The familiarity of her mother’s voice and presence through the hologram was a comfort that helped K’ira deal with the isolation and the immense changes in her life.
K’ira’s Physical Changes
After the call ended, K’ira was left alone with her thoughts—and her body, which continued to change in ways that she found increasingly unsettling. Over the past k’atunob (weeks), she had been conducting blood tests, and the results confirmed her suspicions: her body was now flooded with far more female hormones than before. The cause was twofold: the unprocessed food from Imani and the changed radiation levels of the planet. Back on Ahret’mar, food went through rigorous filtration processes, which removed hormone-stimulating substances, but here on Imani, K’ira was exposed to the planet’s raw environment.
Despite all her scientific knowledge, K’ira couldn’t fully understand why this was happening to her. The hormonal changes were accompanied by physical adaptations, and though she was not yet certain of the implications, she knew that there had to be a hidden reason behind these effects—a secret her homeworld had kept from her.
She had been taking medical scans every second K’in (day), and while her shrinkage had finally stopped, she now stood at 223 ts’on (223 cm)—one of the shortest Tz’aqur by any standard. Her initial height had been just below the average at 260 ts’on, but this change was profound. For Earth standards, K’ira was still very tall and thin. However, compared to her species, her new appearance was almost voluptuous.
Her muscles had also continued to grow—not in a way that made her look overly muscular, but more like the lean, toned body of a human who engaged in consistent running and light weight training. Her arms, legs, and torso were visibly more defined, and she could feel the strength in her new form. Oddly enough, though, her weight continued to increase, but only in certain places, giving her body a shape she had never seen before in herself or anyone from her home planet.
Her chest and hips had grown noticeably, adding to the unfamiliar feminine curves that she had developed. To her increasing surprise, she had also developed axillary hair under her arms—almost fully grown now—and a more troubling patch of pubic hair, which had never been seen or experienced in Tz’aqur society. The changes, while physiological, were disturbing, leaving her feeling out of place in her own skin.
Even her garments, once loose and comfortable, had become too tight. The fabric strained against her chest and hips, and the dress had become too long, now that she was much shorter.
New Clothes for a New K’ira
It was Saren who first noticed the problem with her clothes. With his quick intellect and analytical mind, he devised a solution that was both practical and innovative. He designed new garments for K’ira, using materials they had at hand on Imani. The new outfit was a far cry from the traditional robes of their people.
He fashioned pants—something unheard of in Tz’aqur society. These pants, made from a durable yet flexible fabric, fit snugly around K’ira’s waist and hips, allowing her more freedom to move comfortably in the higher gravity of Imani. It was a strange feeling at first, wearing something so different from the garments she had grown up with, but K’ira quickly came to appreciate how functional the pants were.
Saren didn’t stop there. He also crafted an upper garment, similar to a shirt. The fabric was soft, breathable, and cut in such a way that it provided both comfort and ease of movement. K’ira felt more like herself again, even if her body had changed. The pants and shirt allowed her to move more freely, and most importantly, she felt more at ease.
As a final addition, Saren made something even more unusual for their society—underpants. The concept was entirely foreign to the Tz’aqur, but K’ira found them surprisingly comfortable, especially given how much more sensitive certain parts of her body had become. The underpants provided an added layer of comfort under the pants, and K’ira quickly grew accustomed to them.
Wearing this new attire, K’ira felt better equipped for her work. The strain of the higher gravity and the physical changes in her body were more bearable with these new clothes, and for the first time in a while, she felt ready to tackle the challenges ahead.
The Slow Progress
The task of clearing the area around the elevator continued. With the jungle vines stubbornly regrowing each day, it was a slow and grueling process. The vines exuded a sticky fluid that adhered to the robots’ tools, causing them to stop working every 30 Wak’ or so. They needed to use intense heat to clear the sticky residue, which took nearly two Ahret’m K’in(days) to figure out a proper rhythm of work and cleaning.
Despite the frustrations, progress was being made, though at a much slower pace than K’ira had hoped. After five K’atunob (roughly five weeks), they had cleared an area of 10 Witz in diameter around the elevator. Finally, K’ira decided that this was enough for now. She would focus on analyzing what they had uncovered rather than continuing to battle the relentless vines.
With the area cleared, K’ira and the robots scanned every part of the newly exposed terrain. The result was a detailed 3D hologram of the entire cleared area, including the intricate patterns and symbols etched into the ground, walls, and the massive control panel beside the elevator.
The Discovery of Ancient Symbols
As the area was cleared, K’ira began to notice the intricacies of the architecture. The parvis in front of the door was adorned with ancient hieroglyphs and symbols. K’ira couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of familiarity with some of these symbols, though she couldn’t quite place where she had seen them before. It was as if a distant memory was trying to resurface.
One evening, while lying in her bed, K’ira finally realized where she had encountered similar symbols before—on the steps of the pyramid back on her home planet. These symbols, etched into the stone steps, had been something of a mystery, as no one could fully translate them. But now, seeing them here, K’ira wondered if there was a deeper connection between Imani and her homeworld’s ancient structures.
The next morning, filled with a sense of purpose, she sent a message to the Council, requesting a 3D scan of all the symbols on the pyramid. If she could compare the symbols from both planets, she might finally unlock some of the secrets of Imani.
Chapter 9: Waiting and Changing
The Room Beside the Elevator
After clearing the area around the elevator, K’ira and the robots uncovered a small building adjacent to the entrance. Initially thought to be a utility room, further investigation revealed it was likely a control space for managing the elevator or systems connected to the underground facility.
As K’ira stepped inside, the room felt cold and orderly. The walls were made of smooth, dark stone with a faint metallic sheen, different from the materials outside. It was as if the room had been protected from the elements for centuries, perfectly preserved. Geometric carvings lined the walls, sharp and precise, suggesting advanced methods of construction. The air inside was dense, carrying a faint scent of minerals.
In the center of the room was a circular console of translucent material, resembling crystal, with faint symbols and indentations. The console’s surface pulsed faintly, and several instruments were attached to both the console and the walls. The faint glow of some instruments added to the mysterious ambiance. Despite the room being dark, the subtle glow suggested that parts of the system might still have power. Some of the needles on the instruments even showed measurements, but K’ira and Saren had no idea what they indicated due to the unknown signs and symbols.
Several panels were embedded in the walls, each inlaid with symbols, along with slots that might have once housed tools or devices now long forgotten. To the right of the console, a small alcove held several tubes and mechanical components—but these components were unlike anything K’ira had ever seen before. The tubes were made of crystals, some long, some short, in various colors ranging from deep blues and purples to bright greens and reds. Each crystal had a different shape—some cylindrical, others tapered into points or facets—suggesting they had distinct purposes. Some of the crystals were embedded in the walls, while others lay scattered around the room, as if someone or something had deliberately made a mess, leaving these delicate objects strewn across the console and floor.
The room, though otherwise orderly, carried a chaotic sense with the crystals in disarray. K’ira was unsure whether this disorder had been recent or had occurred long ago, but it added to the enigma of the space.
As Saren examined the access panel near the floor, he discovered wiring that looked similar to fiber optic cables. When they looked closely, they noticed faint light pulses coursing through the cables, suggesting some kind of active power still ran through the system. This hint of energy was baffling, as no visible source of power had yet been found. The cables, sleek and transparent, had a slight shimmer, and K’ira suspected they carried information rather than electrical current, perhaps using light to transmit data between systems.
At the center of the room was another peculiar feature—a hexagonal opening in the floor, around 8-10 Ts’on in diameter. The opening was surrounded by intricate symbols and a circle of stone in a slightly different color. The purpose of this opening was entirely unclear, adding another layer of mystery to the room’s function.
Physical Recovery and Progress
Over time, K’ira’s body slowly adapted to Imani’s environment. After weeks of struggle, she had reached a point where she could walk around and perform light physical tasks. Although she could now stay up later and wake up feeling a bit more refreshed, the total exhaustion she had been battling for weeks had only just begun to fade. She still needed nearly all her energy to maintain this basic level of activity, but the sense of progress was encouraging.
Her continued medical scans showed that her body was still changing. Her muscles kept growing, especially in her legs and arms. Inside her lower abdomen and breasts, new structures were continuing to form. Her breasts, still growing, rattled her deeply. The idea of having breasts so much larger than she had ever imagined was unnerving, especially in a culture where the physical differences between male and female bodies were far less pronounced. Now, not only was her once flat stomach developing a noticeable bulge, but her chest was significantly fuller. She felt uncomfortable with her reflection and uncertain about what her body was becoming.
Her skin had completed its transformation, now nearly as pinkish as a human’s. The pale, greyish tone that was characteristic of her people had completely disappeared. Even her hair had become thicker and seemed to grow at an accelerated rate. While her hair remained blonde, it had deepened in color, now a more vibrant, colorful yellow, compared to the greyish blonde she had back on her homeworld. This new richness in her hair color, along with its rapid growth, fascinated her but also made her more uncomfortable.
Due to her religious beliefs, she had always refrained from cutting her hair, considering it sacred. Despite Saren’s gentle suggestions to trim it for practicality, K’ira refused. For now, she braided her hair into a long farmer’s braid, but she knew it wouldn’t be a sufficient solution if the rapid growth continued.
Decrypting the Symbols
Despite her physical transformation, K’ira kept herself focused on the mission. The work of decrypting the ancient symbols carved into the ruins was advancing, albeit slowly. She and the robots had managed to group the symbols, allowing them to determine which ones appeared most frequently. This basic organizational structure gave them hope that they would eventually be able to piece together actual words from the symbols.
K’ira often discussed her ideas with Saren, using him as a sparring partner to exchange hypotheses about the meaning of specific symbols. After much deliberation, they had tentatively identified one symbol as representing the sun. However, real progress was still out of reach.
In addition to analyzing the symbols on the walls, K’ira and Saren scanned the entire room, documenting every detail and component within it. They carefully collected the crystals scattered across the room and console, taking them outside to arrange them in a more organized manner. By comparing the crystals side by side, they began to notice subtle differences and similarities—the colors, shapes, and lengths all varied, but there seemed to be a method to their diversity.
Once the crystals were properly arranged and studied, they scanned each of them as well, hoping that the information collected would provide clues to the ancient technology or language they were dealing with. Though they couldn’t yet decode the symbols or determine the exact purpose of the crystals, K’ira felt they were one step closer to understanding the hidden mysteries of Imani.
Both K’ira and Saren knew that once the scan from the home planet arrived, they would have much more material to work with. Until then, they continued their slow and steady work, hoping to unlock the language of this long-lost civilization.
Chapter 10: The Puzzle of the Crystals
K’ira had been so absorbed in the new discoveries inside the room beside the elevator that she had completely forgotten to monitor her own physical changes for the first time since arriving on Imani. Tuns passed in a blur of excitement as she and Saren pored over the mysteries of the crystals and the console. The focus on uncovering the ancient technology had overtaken everything else, including the unusual transformation her body had been undergoing.
Exploring the Crystals and the Console
Together with Saren, K’ira initiated a series of tests using the advanced AI system they had onboard. Their goal was to determine how the crystals might fit into the openings on the console, as well as whether they served a functional purpose, such as powering the console or activating some dormant system.
The AI scanned every crystal, meticulously analyzing their shapes, sizes, and the faint energy signatures that seemed to pulse within them. The openings on the console varied slightly in size and shape, and though K’ira and Saren initially hoped the crystals would align with the console in some obvious pattern, the results were far more complex than they anticipated.
The AI presented them with thousands of possible combinations, all of which seemed plausible. Each configuration led to a different potential outcome, but without further understanding of the language and symbols on the walls and console, it was impossible to know which combination would activate the console—or if any would work at all. This was a major setback.
Frustration grew as they realized they had stumbled onto something far beyond their immediate comprehension. The crystals, though beautiful and varied, were now an intricate puzzle that might hold the key to understanding the purpose of the entire room and its connection to the elevator. However, the sheer number of possible combinations left K’ira feeling like they had reached a dead end, at least for the moment.
Neglecting Herself
In the midst of this intensive focus on the crystals and console, K’ira had neglected her regular medical scans. She had grown used to the ritual of scanning her body every few K’in to track her transformations, but with the discovery of the room and the crystals, she had skipped the scans for several Tuns.
When she finally remembered to run a scan, she was surprised by how much her body had changed in such a short time. Her muscles, already more pronounced than before, had grown even more toned, and her breasts had continued to swell, making her feel even more out of place in her own skin. Her belly had expanded slightly further, giving her the feeling that something fundamental was shifting inside her, although she still wasn’t sure why. Even her hair, now a vibrant yellow, felt heavier and thicker, growing at an even faster rate.
The physical changes made her feel increasingly disconnected from her past self, and she was beginning to wonder how much more her body would alter before this process stopped—if it ever would. She made a note to be more diligent in tracking her health again, even as her curiosity about the ancient technology continued to drive her.
Saren’s Support
Saren, ever the problem-solver, tried to keep K’ira focused. He suggested that they narrow the possibilities for the crystal combinations by studying the symbols on the walls and the console more thoroughly. He believed that by understanding the symbols, they could rule out many of the AI’s proposed combinations and focus on the ones that made the most sense.
However, the task of decrypting the symbols had been slow. Despite the AI’s assistance, they had only managed to identify one symbol—the sun—and the rest of the language remained frustratingly elusive. Saren reminded K’ira that the 3D scan from the homeworld would arrive soon, and with that, they might have a breakthrough in their translation efforts.
For now, they had to keep testing combinations and hope that a pattern would emerge.
The Unique Green Crystal
Despite Saren’s logical approach, K’ira felt restless. She didn’t want to wait for the scans from the home planet to make progress. She spent several Tuns and countless K’in looking over and over again at the scans, the holograms, and everything they had discovered so far, determined to find something they had missed.
One night, K’ira woke from a restless sleep with a sudden realization: there was one crystal that stood out from the rest. Every other crystal had something in common—whether it was their color, material, or shape. But there was one, a striking green crystal, that had no commonality with the others. Its bright green color was unlike any other in the collection. Additionally, its shape was unique—a short tube with a rounded ball on top, unlike the more angular or faceted crystals surrounding it. The material felt different too, almost warm to the touch, and smooth, as if it had been deliberately polished.
K’ira couldn’t shake the feeling that this crystal was special. There was an urgency in her gut that she couldn’t explain. She knew she had to test it, to see if it fit anywhere on the console.
Driven by instinct, K’ira grabbed the green crystal and made her way to the console, her heart racing with anticipation.
A Frustrating Test
With the crystal in hand, K’ira approached the console. She carefully studied the various openings, trying to find the right one where the crystal might fit. Her initial attempts were fruitless. She tried inserting the crystal with the ball down and then with the tube down, but none of the slots seemed to accept the shape.
The green crystal was simply too different from the others to fit in any of the obvious places. After several attempts, K’ira felt her frustration mounting. She was almost ready to give up when something caught her eye—a rectangular hole off to the side, different from the other slots. One of the shorter sides of the rectangle had a rounded edge, just the right shape to accommodate the ball of the crystal.
Feeling a surge of hope, K’ira laid the crystal into the rectangular slot, positioning it carefully so the ball side rested in the rounded edge. To her surprise, a small stud or pin slid out from inside the console and drove into the hollow tube side of the crystal, locking it into place.
K’ira stood back, expecting something—anything—to happen. She stared at the console, waiting for a glow, a sound, or perhaps for one of the gauges to shift.
But there was nothing.
No sound, no glow, no movement. The crystal was now stuck, securely fastened in place by the pin, but there was no indication that it had activated anything. K’ira’s heart sank. After all the buildup, all the instinct driving her to test the green crystal, the result was silence.
She slumped slightly, staring at the unresponsive console, unsure of what to try next.
The Long Night
K’ira sat in the control room for several Tuns, staring at the console in frustration and disbelief. She went over the possibilities in her mind, but nothing made sense. The feeling of failure weighed heavily on her. She had been so sure this crystal was the key to something significant, yet now it seemed she had only made things worse by getting the crystal stuck.
As the hours dragged on, fatigue began to overtake her, but the weight of her disappointment kept her rooted to the spot. Finally, as exhaustion crept in, she stood up, feeling drained and defeated, and made her way back to the container where she lived.
That night, K’ira fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep. Her dreams were disturbing—almost like nightmares, full of disjointed images of the green crystal and the cold, unresponsive console. She saw flashes of symbols she couldn’t understand and felt a deep, unsettling sense of failure. The night felt like it would never end, and by the time morning finally came, K’ira woke up feeling as though she hadn’t rested at all.
Her frustration was beyond words. The sense of progress that had been building over the last several days was now gone, replaced with a cold, gnawing doubt about whether they would ever solve this puzzle.
Saren and Lura’s Concern
Saren and Lura immediately sensed that something was wrong when they saw K’ira in the morning. They hadn’t noticed her midnight excursion, as they had been in their regular update cycle, rebooting several times during the night as they refreshed their systems.
K’ira’s pale, worn-out expression and the dark circles under her eyes were impossible to miss. Both robots approached her with concern, their advanced programming picking up on the emotional and physical strain she was under.
“K’ira,” Saren began, his voice calm and measured. “What happened last night? You don’t seem well.”
Lura, too, looked at K’ira with her empathetic gaze. “Please, tell us everything. What’s troubling you?”
K’ira didn’t respond immediately. She felt the frustration bubbling up inside her but knew she had to explain. After a few deep breaths, she recounted everything in painstaking detail—how she had woken up in the middle of the night, how she had been drawn to the green crystal, and how she had tried over and over to find a place for it in the console. She described the moment the crystal had fit into the rectangular hole, her burst of hope, and the crushing disappointment when nothing happened.
The robots listened intently as K’ira relayed every frustrating moment, every emotion she had felt, down to the haunting dreams that had plagued her sleep. She couldn’t hide her disillusionment or the anger she felt at herself for having trusted her instinct so strongly, only to face failure.
Saren and Lura exchanged a brief glance, then turned their full attention back to K’ira, offering their support.
Time for a Break
It was time to get K’ira’s mind off the overwhelming tasks and frustration. Both Saren and Lura agreed that K’ira needed a break, something to help her reset emotionally and mentally. They gently suggested that she step away from the ruins for a while. The pressure and stress had been mounting, and it was clear that continuing to focus on the puzzle might only deepen her frustration.
“Why don’t you take a break?” Saren suggested softly. “Come with us to the harvesting fields. See something other than this console and the ruins. You need a chance to breathe, to explore your temporary home here, and let your mind and heart focus on something else for a while.”
Lura added, “You’ve been working non-stop. The fields are beautiful this time of the cycle. It might help clear your head.”
At first, K’ira hesitated. She didn’t want to walk away from the task; it felt like giving up. But the weight of exhaustion and the emotional strain was undeniable. After some consideration, she realized they were right. She needed to step back, even if only for a little while. Maybe seeing more of Imani would give her some peace of mind and allow her to return with fresh insight.
Reluctantly, K’ira agreed. She nodded and followed Saren and Lura out of the container, away from the ruins, and toward the vast, colorful harvesting fields. The familiar feeling of frustration began to ease, if only slightly, as they set off to explore the world outside her recent struggles.
Chapter 11: The Green Expanse
The journey had begun at dawn. K’ira, Saren, and Lura walked at a steady pace through the lush landscape of Imani. The path wasn’t particularly well-defined, but it was easy to follow the natural trails between the fields. K’ira felt the soft soil beneath her feet, each step a gentle reminder of the stability and tranquility this planet offered. What surprised her most was that she barely struggled anymore with the environment. At first, the gravity and the thin air of Imani had made even the simplest task exhausting. But now, after many cycles, her body had adapted. She could breathe more easily, and her muscles no longer ached under the planet’s pull.
Her senses had adjusted to the constant hum of the environment as well—the faint sounds of robotic drones pollinating plants, the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves. The cool air pressed against her skin, slightly colder than the constant temperatures she had grown used to on Ahret’mar, where the difference between the warmest and coldest periods was barely a few Ts’on. Here, the change in temperature was subtle, but noticeable. The air was crisper, and in the mornings, a thin layer of dew coated everything, a phenomenon she had never experienced on her homeworld.
They moved through fields bordered by tall piles of rocks, carefully arranged by the robots, who had filtered them out from the fertile soil. The fields themselves were a patchwork of different plants, each row bursting with life. K’ira couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace as they walked, the planet’s vitality pulsing all around them.
The journey continued until they reached their destination—a small clearing where the fields opened into a natural campsite. Saren and Lura set down the equipment they had been carrying, including a tent, while K’ira took in the scene. The fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, a seemingly endless green expanse of growth. Unlike the strict monocultures she had read about in some ancient texts from Ahret’mar, the fields of Imani were alive with diversity.
Every row of plants was different, purposefully arranged to maintain balance. There were no insects here to pollinate the plants, no pests to eat them. Instead, small robotic colibri-like drones flitted from flower to flower, pollinating with delicate precision.
The Green Expanse
The fields were vibrant, each plant unique in its own way. As K’ira walked through the rows, she could see the sheer variety of life that thrived here:
- Ferralon – A potato-like tuber, pale purple in color, rich in starch and proteins.
- Leket’ka – Tall stalks with thin yellow leaves, producing small golden grains.
- Ch’ilox – Small bushes bearing bright red berries, used for preserves.
- Zalfa – Vines with long orange fruits, similar to squash.
- Mek’ta – Bushes with juicy pear-like fruits.
- Harquash – Low plants with thick, sweet bulbs like onions.
- Jabbal – Spiky plants with purple pods, used in drinks and medicine.
- Ixa’va – Bushes with soft blue-skinned fruits, perfect for juice.
- Gar’thiel – Sweet potato-like tubers, high in fiber.
- Zhor’lin – Blue-flowering plants with seeds used for oil.
- Vintan – Tall plants bearing citrus-like fruits inside a pale rind.
- Lemet – Deep green leafy plants, dense with nutrients.
- Osari – Bushes that produce oil-rich nuts, vital for cooking.
- Sareth – Ground cover plants producing tiny seeds used as a grain.
- Xaz’til – Towering plants with violet cobs, exuding syrupy juice.
- Pek’tam – Long, crimson root vegetables like carrots.
- Tlan’sha – Plants with green pods filled with protein-rich seeds.
- Brek’ta – Thorny bushes bearing orange fruits for seasoning.
- Vex’tol – Grass-like plants producing seeds used for flour.
- Othar – Creeping vines with waxy fruits similar to melons, with a tart flavor.
When K’ira awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to realize what had happened. She had slept deeply—perhaps for the first time since she had arrived on Imani. Her mind was clear, her body rested and refreshed. There was no lingering tension from the upcoming tasks or the thoughts of her ongoing physical changes. For the first time in a long while, she felt in balance, with herself and the nature around her.
As she stepped outside the tent, the cool morning air greeted her, and the world around her was covered in a fine layer of dew, each drop shimmering in the morning light. Everything seemed perfect, almost surreal. The green fields stretched out to the horizon, and the peace of the planet seemed to settle into her very bones.
They spent almost 3 full K’in in the wilds of Imani, walking among the fields, resting under the soft glow of the planet’s two moons, and enjoying the tranquility of the world around them. When they finally made their way back to the container, the sky was darkening, the night almost upon them. K’ira felt something within her—balance. Not just with the planet, but within herself.
More than that, she felt something she hadn’t experienced before—delight. The kind of joy that wasn’t common back home on Ahret’mar, where everything was calculated, orderly, and predictable. Here, she felt free, alive in a way she never had before. The weight of her tasks and responsibilities seemed lighter now, the mystery of Imani no longer a burden but a challenge she looked forward to facing.
For the first time since arriving on Imani, K’ira was truly content.
They all three decided to do this every other Tun for 2 K’in. The experience gave K’ira so much energy, she knew it was something she had to continue, not just for the beauty of Imani, but for her own well-being.
Chapter 12: The Subtle Shift and a Difficult Conversation
After returning from their camping trip, K’ira, Saren, and Lura immediately resumed their investigation of the consoleinside the ruins. K’ira felt refreshed from the days spent in nature, but her mind was still focused on the mystery of the green crystal. It had been locked into place during their previous attempts to insert it, but nothing else had changed. The gauges and lights on the console remained as they were, unmoving and unlit.
K’ira stood in front of the console once again, examining the now-immovable crystal. It was wedged into the small rectangular hole on the console, the tube-like structure perfectly aligned with the slot. No amount of pulling or maneuvering could get it out. The thought of using blunt force to remove it briefly crossed her mind, but she dismissed the idea. If the crystal had a purpose, smashing it would only create further complications.
Saren, standing beside her, meticulously scanned the room with his advanced sensors. His eyes flicked from corner to corner, processing data in ways that K’ira couldn’t. Lura stood quietly behind them, monitoring for any external disturbances. It was routine now, the three of them always working in tandem—K’ira with her intuition, Saren with his precision, and Lura keeping them all secure.
With this subtle yet critical discovery, their exploration of the console and the ruins took on a new urgency. The crystal had done something—something small, but enough to show them that the mystery was deeper than they initially thought. There was more hidden in these ancient structures, and K’ira was determined to uncover it.
As they left the room, K’ira glanced back at the console one last time. The soft, almost imperceptible hum continued, but now, it felt different—alive, somehow, as if the room was waiting for the next step.
The evening air was cool and quiet as K’ira settled into the container. The discovery at the console had left her mind racing, but tonight there was something else she needed to face. It was time for her Holocall with her mother. Normally, these calls were brief, with both of them speaking quickly about mundane topics, avoiding deeper conversations. But tonight, K’ira had made a decision. She was going to tell her mother about the changes her body had been going through since her arrival on Imani.
K’ira stood in front of the holoscanner, the soft hum of the machine coming to life as it prepared to project her three-dimensional image to her mother. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. Her body was still changing, though not as rapidly as before. The initial changes had been difficult to process, but now her muscles had settled, no longer growing as they had in the beginning. Thankfully, she was also no longer shrinking—her height seemed to have stabilized.
But the deeper, more personal changes were still ongoing. Her hormone levels were still fluctuating, causing the structures in her breasts and lower abdomen to continue developing. Her body felt foreign to her, yet strangely familiar at the same time. At least, she thought, her breasts and belly had stopped growing for now. They were still noticeably different from what she was used to, and her once flat, streamlined body had developed what she could only describe as curves.
She had no frame of reference for what was “normal” in this situation—there were no others from her world here to compare herself to—but from her point of view, she had grown curvy, a concept that was foreign on Ahret’mar, where bodies were typically lean and tall, with little distinction between male and female forms.
K’ira was almost fine with all these changes now. The days she had spent in the wilds with Saren and Lura had given her a new perspective. Out there, surrounded by the untouched nature of Imani, she had felt more connected to the planet and more in harmony with her new body than she ever had before. The wilds seemed to welcome her as she was, and in turn, she had started to accept herself.
But she was afraid of how her mother might react. Lian’tha had always been a steady figure in K’ira’s life, and K’ira valued her opinion above all others. Still, she worried that her mother might see her changes as something unnatural, something to be feared. K’ira didn’t feel unnatural anymore, though. She felt… transformed, in a way. As if the planet was reshaping her, preparing her for something greater.
The Holocall flickered to life, and K’ira’s mother appeared before her in the familiar, slightly distorted monochromeimage. The resolution of these calls was never perfect, but it was enough to pick up the subtle emotions in each other’s expressions. K’ira could see the weariness in her mother’s eyes, no doubt a result of the stress she had been under ever since K’ira had left for Imani.
“Mother,” K’ira began, her voice steady despite the nerves she felt, “I need to talk to you about something… personal.”
Lian’tha’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flashing across her face. “What is it, K’ira? Are you all right?”
“I am,” K’ira assured her. “But my body… it’s been changing since I arrived here. In ways I didn’t expect.” She took a deep breath, then began to explain. “My muscles grew at first, but now they’ve stopped. I haven’t been shrinking anymore, either. But other things… my hormone levels… the structures in my breasts and lower abdomen… they’re still changing.”
Lian’tha’s face softened with understanding, but there was also a flicker of worry. “What do you mean? How much have you changed?”
K’ira hesitated before stepping back from the holoscanner, allowing her mother to see her full figure. “I look… different now,” she said. “I’m… curvier, I guess you could say. My body is much more defined than it was back home.”
Her mother remained quiet for a moment, her eyes scanning K’ira’s form through the projection. K’ira couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking, and the silence was deafening.
Finally, Lian’tha spoke, her voice soft. “You’re still my daughter, no matter how much you change, K’ira.”
Relief washed over K’ira, though she could tell her mother was still processing everything. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this.”
Lian’tha smiled gently, though there was a distant look in her eyes. “K’ira, there’s something I want to tell you.”
K’ira looked at her mother, feeling the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”
Lian’tha’s voice grew quieter, almost as if she was hesitant to share the memory. “When I was very young… I saw a drawing in one of the religious books. It was old, and I don’t know what period of our history it was from. But it showed something… similar to what you’re describing. The curves, the body shape. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that I see you… it reminded me.”
K’ira felt a strange chill run down her spine. “You think… I look like someone from our past?”
Lian’tha nodded slowly. “I don’t know which book it was or what the drawing was about. But it wasn’t common. I only saw it once, and I’ve never found it again.”
K’ira’s mind raced. Could the changes she was going through be more connected to their history than she realized? The thought was unsettling, but also intriguing. “Do you think it means something?”
Her mother sighed. “I don’t know. But our ancestors… they were different from us. And I think, somehow, you’re connected to that.”
After ending the call with her mother, K’ira received another message—this one from the Council. They had finished the scans of the pyramid back home, but the data transfer would take several Kek’n. The connection between Imani and Ahret’mar wasn’t robust enough to handle large transfers all at once, so they would send the scans in packages over time.
K’ira felt a surge of excitement at the thought of finally receiving the scans. The symbols on the pyramid back home were the key to understanding what was happening here. But she knew she would need to be patient—the bandwidth between the two planets was limited, and it would take time before she had all the data.
In the meantime, she had to keep working with what she had.
Chapter 13: The Forgotten History of the Tz’aqur
Though unknown to K’ira and the people of Ahret’mar, the story of the Tz’aqur begins not on their planet, but on Earth, in a time when the Maya civilization had yet to reach its full splendor.
Around 5000 to 5500 years ago (approximately 3000–3500 BCE), Earth was visited by an advanced race of celestial beings. These beings, whose nature, appearance, and even gender are not recorded, discovered early Mayan communities developing in Mesoamerica. Fascinated by the culture and the spiritual practices of these people, the celestials began studying them in secret. The reasons for their interest remain unclear—perhaps the Mayans’ deep connection to the stars, their emerging architecture, or their intricate calendar system resonated with the visitors.
Among the celestial beings, one stood out—a free mind, driven by curiosity and a desire to conduct a grand experiment. This celestial had a bold idea: to see how the same species would evolve if placed in a completely different environment. This vision gave birth to a plan that would shape the destiny of an entire civilization, a plan that would set the stage for the birth of the Tz’aqur.
The Experiment
The celestial being kidnapped a group of Mayan men and women—about a couple dozen individuals—from their homes on Earth. In this act, the Mayan people became unwilling participants in an experiment that would span centuries. These men and women were transported—by methods unknown to us—across the vastness of space to a new world: the planet Imani.
When they arrived on Imani, they found it already prepared for them. The celestials had built homes and provided them with fields of edible plants, many of which still grow on the planet today. There were also animals for them to use in labor and as a food source. Everything they needed to survive was provided to them, just as their gods would have done.
Centuries of Peaceful Living
For the first few centuries, life on Imani was peaceful and prosperous. The transplanted Maya people, now developing their own culture and customs on this new world, thrived under the care of the celestials. They viewed these beings as gods and devoted themselves to their worship. But for all their religious fervor, they did not evolve as a civilization. There was no need for invention or progress—everything was given to them, and their lives were comfortable.
But the experiment’s flaw became apparent to the celestial beings. The Mayan civilization on Imani did not evolve, it stagnated. There was no pressure to develop new technologies, no need to innovate. Over time, the celestial beings grew bored with the experiment and, having lost interest, simply walked away. Their communication ceased, and they stopped visiting Imani.
Abandonment and Disaster
The departure of the celestials was interpreted by the Imani Maya as a bad omen. They believed they had angered their gods, and this belief was only solidified when a disaster struck. A meteor crashed into the planet, devastating the land. The impact destroyed hundreds of square kilometers, and the dust thrown into the atmosphere blotted out the sun. Radiation from the explosion spread through the land, killing nearly all the animals and many of the people.
Faced with this catastrophe, the survivors retreated underground, building a city deep beneath the surface to protect themselves from the hostile environment. It was during this period of isolation that their chromosomes changed due to exposure to radiation. This mutation would eventually lead to the extra chromosome that now defines their race—the Tz’aqur.
For the people of Imani, this disaster was not just a natural event; it was divine punishment for their reliance on their gods. Believing the meteor was a direct consequence of angering the celestials, they transformed their religious beliefs, incorporating a new focus on self-reliance.
The Rise of Science and the Departure from Imani
Unlike the slow evolution typically seen in civilizations, the Tz’aqur’s scientific advancement was rapid. While their reliance on celestial beings had stunted their progress for centuries, the surviving people of Imani discovered that remnants of celestial technology were still left behind. This enabled them to reverse engineer many of the tools that had once been provided to them.
The most remarkable of these technologies was a fusion reactor, which became their power source, and a highly advanced data processing system that worked using light-based processors rather than electrical currents. This photonic technology allowed the Tz’aqur to transmit vast amounts of information through light, vastly improving their computational capabilities.
With these tools at their disposal, it took the Imani survivors only a generation to recover from the disaster and begin constructing a new life. Their scientific evolution accelerated as they used the leftover technology to develop new methods of survival, create advanced structures, and eventually build a ship capable of interstellar travel. The surviving population then made their way to Ahret’mar, the planet that would become their new home.
The Cleansing of History
Once they arrived on Ahret’mar, the Tz’aqur made a decision that would alter their future. They knew that their dependency on the celestial beings had nearly destroyed them. To ensure that no one could ever try to reconnect with the gods, they deleted all records of their past, erasing every detail of their history on Imani and their connections to the celestials. They wiped their history clean, beginning their collective memory only from the point of their arrival on Ahret’mar.
The only exception to this historical purge was the pyramid, a symbolic structure they built as a reminder of their past. Its purpose was to symbolize the importance of self-reliance and to ensure that future generations would never again depend on gods or celestial beings for their survival.
The Pyramid: A Reminder
The only remnant of their past that survived the purge of history was the pyramid—a symbolic structure meant to remind the Tz’aqur that they must never again depend on outside forces or gods for their survival. It was a cautionary symbol, representing both their origins and the dangers of complacency.
For the Tz’aqur, their history became one of independence and scientific evolution, but the true story—that they were once descendants of an ancient human civilization transplanted from Earth—remains hidden, lost to time, and unknown to K’ira and her people.
A Curious Coincidence?
Though the celestial beings abandoned their experiment long ago, one remarkable coincidence remains: the Tz’aqur, after generations of evolution, now resemble the celestial beings who first brought them to Imani. Is this resemblance merely chance, or is it the result of some unknown connection between the celestials and the species they chose to experiment with? This resemblance, though unnoticed by K’ira and her people, leaves a lingering question in the history of their race.
The Unknown Timeline
Because the records of their history were deliberately erased, the exact timeline of these events is unknown. The Tz’aqur’s memory only begins upon their arrival on Ahret’mar, meaning that the precise dating of the meteor impact, the departure from Imani, and the duration of their scientific advancement remain hidden. What little information is left is vague, intentionally obscured to protect the new society from ever revisiting its origins.
Language and Names
Unknown to K’ira and her people, the reason their names are mostly related to the Mayan language is a reflection of their distant origins. While the Tz’aqur civilization evolved far beyond their Earth-bound ancestors, remnants of their linguistic roots remained embedded in their names. Over time, however, the current Tz’aqur language became only loosely related to Mayan. The language changed so significantly over the millennia that today, there is little commonality between the two. Yet the echoes of their past persist in the names they use, even though they have forgotten where they truly come from.
The Mayan Connection and Celestial Travel
Interestingly, the original Mayans, from whom the Tz’aqur are descended, also retained memory fragments of these celestial encounters. Passed down through oral traditions and later recorded in their poetry, the Mayans spoke of gods traveling to the stars. These myths were inspired by the contact their ancestors had with the celestial beings who took some of them to Imani. Though the Mayans on Earth had no direct knowledge of what became of their kidnapped people, the stories of star-traveling gods persisted, shaping their spiritual worldview.
In one of their ancient poems, the Mayans wrote:
They come from the sky, in a path of light,
the gods who walk among us, unseen, in flight.
They take to the heavens, and we follow behind,
our ancestors carried by winds, beyond space and time.
Táan u k’áat yéetel ka’an, ichil u beel k’i’ik’,
le k’ujob’ táan u xook ti’ ka’an, ko’ox in k’i’ik’.
Táan u beetik yéetel le nojoch ka’an, yéetel táan u bejla’ob’,
k’áat in ts’íib le nojoch xook, ts’ook u naj táan bejla’ali’.
This verse, long forgotten by the Tz’aqur, provides a faint echo of the celestial beings who once walked among the ancient Mayans on Earth, inspiring their stories of journeys to the stars.
Chapter 14: The Wait and the Wilderness
While waiting for the full transmission of the pyramid scans from Ahret’mar, K’ira, Saren, and Lura continued their routine of exploration and analysis. The slow transmission process, taking multiple Kek’n, gave them time to explore the planet of Imani more deeply and allowed K’ira to come to terms with her ever-evolving physical state.
The Camping Trips
Every other week, K’ira, Saren, and Lura embarked on a camping trip to explore the surrounding areas beyond the ruins. These trips were a welcome break from their frustrating work with the console, which seemed unresponsive despite their efforts to understand it.
- To the Fields
The first trip was to the vast, verdant fields. As they walked through, K’ira marveled at the way each row held a different type of plant, ranging from the soft-leaved crops that reminded her of something like lettuce, to tuberous roots that resembled Earth’s potatoes. The fields were not uniform but flowed in natural curves, bounded by stone walls formed from rocks the harvesting robots had collected. The air was cool and fresh, especially in the early morning when dew clung to the leaves, sparkling like tiny jewels in the soft light. The mechanical pollinators, robots that resembled hummingbirds, flitted from plant to plant, making sure each one would bear fruit. The silence was broken only by the soft hum of their wings, adding to the peaceful serenity of the scene. These trips to the fields became almost spiritual for K’ira, grounding her in a way she hadn’t felt since leaving Ahret’mar. - To the Canyon
Their second trip took them to a massive canyon, carved deep into the planet’s surface. The jagged cliffs extended far above their heads, and K’ira found herself overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. Looking down into the canyon, she could see the layers of stone that had built up over millennia, each one a different shade of red, brown, and gold. As they hiked along the edge, the distant sound of rushing water reached her ears—somewhere far below, a river coursed through the canyon, cutting even deeper into the rock. The air here was dry and cool, and the wind whistled through the canyon, adding an eerie but calming soundscape. K’ira felt small in the vastness of this natural wonder, but in a comforting way—like the world around her was full of ancient stories, waiting to be uncovered. - To the Cave
The third trip led them to a cave nestled in a rocky hillside. The entrance was wide but low, forcing K’ira to bend slightly as she entered. The inside of the cave was cool and damp, and the walls glistened with moisture. Small crystalline formations dotted the ceiling, catching the dim light from Saren’s sensors and reflecting it back in a multitude of colors. As they ventured deeper, the air grew colder, and K’ira could hear the sound of dripping waterechoing softly around them. The further they went, the more intricate the cave became—stalactites and stalagmites formed natural pillars, and underground streams carved winding paths through the stone. There was an almost sacred stillness inside the cave, and K’ira could feel the weight of time in its every crevice. Though they didn’t find anything of immediate importance, K’ira couldn’t shake the feeling that the cave held secrets that were yet to be discovered. - To the River
The final trip of this chapter was to a river they had spotted from the canyon. The water was crystal clear, flowing gently over smooth stones, and the banks were lined with a mixture of lush grasses and low-lying trees. K’ira dipped her hand into the water, surprised at how cold and refreshing it was. This river, unlike the dry environment they had grown accustomed to, brought life and color to the landscape around it. Wildflowers bloomed in patches along the river’s edge, their vibrant hues contrasting sharply with the muted greens and browns of the surrounding vegetation. They spent hours wandering along the river, collecting data on the plants and soil, but mostly enjoying the tranquility of the scene. It was here, by the water’s edge, that K’ira felt the most at peace—an unfamiliar sensation, but one she cherished.
K’ira’s Continuing Transformation
As the days passed, K’ira’s body continued to change, though some aspects had finally begun to stabilize. Her muscle growth, which had been pronounced earlier in her journey, had finally stopped, leaving her body toned but not overly muscular. What stood out now was the pronounced curve of her body, which had been subtle before but was now impossible to ignore.
Her skin, once pale and greyish, had fully transformed into a soft pinkish hue, much like that of the celestial beings her ancestors once worshiped. This gave her a strange sense of connection to those ancient myths, even though she was still unaware of her people’s true origins.
Her hair had grown so thick and long that it had become cumbersome. Despite her reluctance, K’ira finally gave in and allowed Saren to cut it. It was still long, reaching past her shoulders, but far more practical now for the demanding work she was engaged in. The blonde hue of her hair had deepened to a more vibrant, golden shade, richer than the pale, almost greyish blonde she had before arriving on Imani.
Her breasts had continued to grow, their size now much larger than what was typical for her people, and her belly bulge, while still present, had finally stopped growing. These changes left her with a body that was far more curvy than anything her people had ever experienced, a stark contrast to the normally lithe and elongated figures of the Tz’aqur. Even by Earth standards, K’ira now had an hourglass figure that would be considered striking, though her tall, thin frame still carried a certain grace.
Though these changes had once rattled her, the time spent in nature and her growing connection to the planet had helped her come to terms with her transformation. She no longer felt a sense of dread or frustration over the way her body was changing. Instead, she began to accept these new developments, understanding them as part of her adaptation to Imani.
Struggles with the Console
In the quiet moments between their trips, K’ira, Saren, and Lura returned to the ruins, obsessed with the mystery of the console. The green crystal had locked into place weeks ago, but aside from the faint shift in the room’s hum that Saren had detected, there had been no discernible change. The console remained a silent monolith, its buttons, switches, and gauges appearing as dead as they had the day they arrived.
Each time they approached it, K’ira could feel the weight of the mystery, like something on the edge of revelation but perpetually out of reach. She had tried everything—every combination of crystals, every potential arrangement and rotation. Dozens of crystals lay strewn across the room now, their once neat alignment reduced to a chaotic jumble of colors and shapes as the team had run out of ideas. Each failed attempt only added to the sense of growing frustration.
There were times when K’ira felt as though the console was mocking them, taunting them with its locked secrets. Despite all their efforts, despite Saren’s advanced scans and Lura’s protective watch, the room refused to reveal its purpose.
The Green Crystal’s Subtle Impact
One day, after inserting yet another crystal into one of the console’s slots and watching nothing happen, Saren suddenly stopped in mid-motion. His sensors whirred and clicked. He scanned the room again, eyes flickering rapidly as he processed new data.
“K’ira,” Saren said, “there’s been a change. Subtle, but there.”
K’ira rushed to the console, her eyes darting across the panel, but to her frustration, she saw nothing new. The gauges were still stuck at zero. The lights were still off. She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, threatening to consume her patience. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sharper than intended.
Saren turned to her, his gaze level and steady. “The hum—its frequency has shifted again. It’s faint, but there’s a patternemerging. This is the second time it’s happened since the crystal was locked in. The crystal… it’s doing something.”
K’ira’s eyes widened. “A pattern?” she echoed. Her mind raced with possibilities. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the idea that the hum could be communicating in a way they hadn’t understood yet sent a ripple of excitement through her.
“What if…” K’ira hesitated, trying to form her thoughts. “What if the console doesn’t function the way we think it does? What if the crystals aren’t just keys, but… transmitters? Or receivers?”
Saren tilted his head, processing her words. “It’s possible. The crystals could be altering the room’s electromagnetic field, sending signals we’ve yet to fully decipher. It’s not like anything we’ve encountered on Ahret’mar.”
A Desperate Idea
That night, as K’ira lay in bed, her mind still churned with thoughts of the consoleas the mystery of the console consumed her. Her physical transformation was no longer the central focus of her thoughts. Now, the mystery of the console consumed her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were close—so close to unlocking something monumental.
Her thoughts wandered back to the green crystal, the one that had felt different the moment she touched it. It wasn’t just a key. It was the start of something… something that was unfolding at a glacial pace. The subtle shift in the hum was a clue, but what was the console waiting for?
K’ira sat up in bed, staring into the darkness of the container. “Maybe… the console isn’t responding because we’re missing a step,” she muttered to herself. She glanced at the scattered crystals in the corner, each one unique, each one holding a piece of the puzzle.
Pushing the Limits
The next day, with renewed determination, K’ira pushed herself even harder. She instructed Saren and Lura to run simulations on the potential combinations of crystals, trying to find a sequence that matched the pattern in the hum. For days, they experimented, logging every tiny variation in the room’s electromagnetic field, searching for anything that could break the silence of the console.
Each new attempt left her more drained. She couldn’t help but feel that they were dancing around the answer, that the console was alive in some way, waiting for them to find the right signal, the right moment.
And then, after one particularly exhausting day of trial and error, Saren reported something unexpected. “The hum has stabilized,” he said. “It’s faint, but it’s there—a stable frequency, unchanging.”
K’ira’s breath caught in her throat. Stability—it was the first sign that the console was finally reacting to their efforts. They had found something. But what? And why wasn’t it showing any physical response?
With a mixture of frustration and anticipation, K’ira slumped into a nearby chair, staring at the console as though willing it to speak. “What are you waiting for?” she muttered under her breath, the words more of a plea than a question.
The console, of course, remained silent. But K’ira knew—something was changing, even if it hadn’t revealed itself yet.
The Missing Crystal
In this quiet moment of contemplation, K’ira’s eyes flicked back to the console. She had spent so much time working with the crystals, trying to make sense of them, that she’d almost missed it—one slot remained empty, one that none of the crystals in their collection fit.
Her heart skipped a beat. Could this be it? Could this be why nothing had worked?
“What if,” K’ira said aloud, the thought forming fully in her mind for the first time, “we’re missing a crystal?”
Saren’s sensors whirred, and he scanned the slot K’ira was staring at. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of something—excitement, maybe? “That would explain the gap in our efforts. If there is a missing piece… the console could be incomplete.”
K’ira’s mind raced. Could there be another crystal, buried somewhere in the ruins? Hidden deeper underground or lost to time? She glanced around the room, taking in the scattered crystals once more. Each one had a partner—either in shape, material, or color—but the green crystal remained unique. Could there be a crystal meant to match it?
“Then we need to find it,” she said, determination hardening her voice. The console was more than just a machine—it was key to something greater, and now she knew what they were missing.
They had been so close all along, and yet so far. Now, their new mission was clear: to find the missing crystal.
to be continued …
Appendix A: Measurement System and Species
Species
| Name | Description |
|---|---|
| Tz’aqur | The species to which K’ira and her people belong. The Tz’aqur are an ancient and advanced civilization, deeply religious and isolated within their three-planet system. They have adapted to the lower gravity and unique environment of their home planet, Ahret’mar, and possess tall, slender bodies with heightened cognitive abilities. The Tz’aqur have abandoned physical reproduction, relying on genetic engineering and birth machines for procreation. |
Imani Time Measurements
| Mayan-Based Term | Earth Equivalent | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Wak’kin | Minute | A division of Wak’, similar to a minute on Earth. |
| Wak’ | Hour | A division of K’in, similar to an hour on Earth. |
| K’in | Day/Night Cycle | The basic unit of time on Imani, similar to one Earth day. |
| Tun | Week | Equivalent to 7 K’in, approximately a week on Imani. |
| K’atun | Month | Represents a month, consisting of 30 to 31 K’in. |
| Ha’b’al | Year | A year, consisting of 360 K’in. |
| Ahret’m Ha’b’al | Decade | Represents 10 Ha’b’al (equivalent to 10 years). |
| B’aktun | Century | Represents 100 Ha’b’al, similar to a century. |
Ahret’mar (Homeworld) Time Measurements
| Mayan-Based Term | Earth Equivalent | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Wak’tzol | Minute | A division of Wak’tza, similar to a minute, adjusted for the longer hours. |
| Wak’tza | Hour | A division of Tza’kin, similar to an hour, adjusted for longer days. |
| Tza’kin | Day/Night Cycle | A day/night cycle on the Ahret’mar homeworld, equivalent to 5 Earth days. |
| Kek’n | Week | Consists of 5 Tza’kin, equivalent to a week on Ahret’mar. |
| Ch’akatun | Month | Represents a month on the Ahret’mar homeworld, consisting of 25 Kek’n. |
| Hab’tza | Year | A year on the Ahret’mar homeworld, consisting of 5 Ch’akatun. |
| Bak’k’in | Decade | Represents 10 Hab’tza, equivalent to a decade. |
| Ch’ibaktun | Century | Represents 100 Hab’tza, equivalent to a century. |
Length Measurements
| Mayan-Based Term | Earth Equivalent | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Pak | Millimeter (mm) | A basic unit of length on Imani, equivalent to a millimeter. |
| Ts’on | Centimeter (cm) | A unit of length on Imani, corresponding to a centimeter. |
| Witz | Meter (m) | The standard unit for a meter on Imani. |
| Ch’eeh | Kilometer (km) | A unit of distance on Imani, equivalent to a kilometer. |
Appendix B: Names and Descriptions
Characters
| Name | Description |
|---|---|
| K’ira | The protagonist of the story, a highly skilled young woman specializing in robotics and artificial intelligence. She is undergoing significant physical and psychological changes as she adapts to the conditions of Imani. |
| Lian’tha | K’ira’s mother. She was relocated to a secure area within the temple district due to threats from religious extremists. She is one of the few people K’ira regularly communicates with via Holocalls. |
| Elder Maeko | One of the three elders, a robotics engineer who played a key role in developing humanite robots, now banned. He is sympathetic to K’ira’s request for humanoid robots. |
| Elder Rahm | Another member of the council, once a theoretical physicist who formulated a theory about traveling at nearly light speed (or its equivalent in their world). |
| Elder Zho | A former brain surgeon and another member of the council, known for her wisdom and balanced judgments. |
| Nim’eh | K’ira’s childhood friend, known for her quick wit and expertise in materials and metallurgy. She designs complex alloys for the planet’s industrial systems. |
| Vira | Another of K’ira’s friends, soft-spoken yet sharp, with a deep knowledge of history and languages. She is one of the youngest lecturers at the university. |
| Sha’len | K’ira’s friend, excelling in theoretical physics. She has contributed to complex gravitational theories studied on their homeworld. |
| Saren | One of the humanoid robots assigned to assist K’ira. Saren is designed for analytical tasks and problem-solving, with a more intellectual and empathetic nature. |
| Lura | The second humanoid robot assigned to K’ira. Lura is designed for physical tasks requiring strength and endurance, with a more commanding presence. |
| Torin | A harvesting robot with a higher rank in the hierarchy of the harvesting robots. Torin is responsible for overseeing other harvesting robots and ensures K’ira’s sustenance by collecting and preparing food from Imani’s environment. |
Planets and Locations
| Name | Description |
|---|---|
| Ahret’mar | The small planet where K’ira and her people live. It is part of a three-planet system orbiting the red star Dziva. The civilization is deeply religious, and the planet’s gravity is weaker than that of Imani. Time moves more slowly on Ahret’mar, with a day/night cycle five times longer than on Imani. |
| Imani | The Garden Planet where K’ira’s mission takes place. It was once inhabited by her ancestors but has since been abandoned. The planet is lush with jungle-like vegetation and has a much higher gravity and shorter day/night cycle than Ahret’mar. It holds ancient ruins with mysterious symbols. |
| Abeni | The mining colony planet, one of the two larger planets in the system. It is an industrial world where no humans live—only robots operate the mining facilities. It plays a crucial role in providing the Tz’aqur civilization with essential resources. |
| Dziva | The red star at the center of the three-planet system, casting a reddish glow over the planets. It is cooler than Earth’s sun, resulting in a longer rotation cycle and a red-tinted light. |
Technology and Terms
| Name | Description |
|---|---|
| Teekat | The radar system used to track the trajectory of the solar sail and monitor objects in space. It helps ensure the sail is functioning correctly in orbit. |
Appendix C: Flora of Imani
| Plant Name | Description | Use |
|---|---|---|
| Ferralon | A potato-like tuber, pale purple in color, rich in starch and proteins. | A staple food, used for meals, rich in nutrition. |
| Leket’ka | Tall stalks with thin yellow leaves, producing small golden grains. | Used as a grain for making staple foods. |
| Ch’ilox | Small bushes bearing bright red berries. | Used for preserves and sweeteners. |
| Zalfa | Vines with long orange fruits, similar to squash. | Ideal for soups, stews, and cooking. |
| Mek’ta | Bushes with large, juicy pear-like fruits. | Eaten fresh or used in juices and fruit-based dishes. |
| Harquash | Low plants producing thick, sweet bulbs, similar to onions. | Used for cooking, flavoring dishes, and medicinal uses. |
| Jabbal | Spiky plants with purple pods that burst with juice. | Used in drinks and medicine. |
| Ixa’va | Small, soft blue-skinned fruits from a bush. | Ideal for juice or fruit-based dishes. |
| Gar’thiel | Sweet potato-like tubers, rich in fiber. | A staple for high-fiber diets, versatile in cooking. |
| Zhor’lin | Blue-flowering plants with small seeds. | Used to extract oils for food and other uses. |
| Vintan | Tall stalks with pale rind and a sweet, citrus-like fruit inside. | Eaten fresh, used for juices and refreshing drinks. |
| Lemet | Deep green leafy plants, similar to kale. | Packed with nutrients, commonly used in salads and cooking. |
| Osari | Bushes producing oil-rich nuts. | Vital for cooking and oil extraction. |
| Sareth | Ground cover plants with tiny seeds. | A staple grain, used in bread and cereals. |
| Xaz’til | Towering plants with violet cobs that produce a syrupy juice. | Used to create sweeteners and syrups. |
| Pek’tam | Long, crimson root vegetables, similar to carrots. | Used in cooking for their sweetness and color. |
| Tlan’sha | Green pods from slender plants, filled with protein-rich seeds. | Used in protein-rich dishes and food supplements. |
| Brek’ta | Thorny bushes bearing bright orange fruits. | Used for sauces and seasonings. |
| Vex’tol | Tall grass-like plants producing seeds for flour. | Used for making flour, similar to wheat. |
| Othar | Creeping vines with bulbous waxy fruits, similar to melons. | Eaten fresh, often used for their tart, refreshing taste. |