With the world on the brink of crumbling due to corruption, hope can only come from a small band of aliens willing to save us from ourselves. Even with their higher evolution and technology, can they stop us in time? Before we destroy ourselves?
Celdic liked to think things through thoroughly. He studied his room carefully before sitting up in bed. He sat still and looked for any sign that someone had tampered with his clothes. When he was satisfied his room was safe, he climbed out of bed and dressed. He wore the same soft, thick pants everyone in Tenral wore. Tenral was completely self-sufficient, and had no trade with the outside world, so there was not a lot of variety in the apparel industry. The gray shirt was made from a durable, soft cloth the Gardeners harvested from a poisonous spiky tree in the Rajan Gardens. The Gardeners made the sturdy, brown boots from a rubber plant much less dangerous to harvest.
Celdic was an ordinary looking young man. His blue gray eyes were as unremarkable as his sandy brown hair. The fact his easily forgettable face had hair on it and that he had to shave regularly was one of the more amusing topics in the mountain city.
At twenty-five years old, he had been sprouting facial hair for a long enough time that it was not a constant thorn in his side. His classmates only called him “the monkey man” until they saw him on the combat field. While his inability to use yar was an additional handicap his peers made the more obvious by their omission of mentioning anything about it, he was still the most talented student on the combat field. There were not very many students who mentioned monkeys, or any other related primates within range of his hearing. They thought his mother, Elinor, came from one of the wild human cities down on the plains, where humans constantly tried to kill each other for some reason nobody understood. She had an amazing talent for finding the most unpleasant tasks for him when he tried to get more information about her homeland.
He shook both of his boots carefully before searching the insides with his hand. Once he was satisfied no unwanted occupants awaited his foot, he put on the resilient boots and walked up to his door. He touched the handle experimentally, then grasped it and turned it slowly when nothing happened. He carefully opened the door, looking up to the ceiling as he did so. The hallway was empty. Something was obviously wrong. Getting from his bed to the kitchen in the morning was rarely uneventful. He slowly moved down the hallway, his nerves winding tighter as he moved closer to the kitchen without incident. He could see his father in the kitchen cooking some breakfast. Celdic was in the safe zone now.
“Boo!” Chale jumped out from behind the wall in the kitchen to land in front of him. Her boo was far too loud to be the result of her natural voice box. After his feet hit the ground again, he stormed past his sister to his usual seat at the kitchen table. His heart was pounding so hard he could actually feel a vein throbbing on his forehead. The gales of laughter assaulting his hears were somehow worse than the boo, even though the laughter lacked her yar's amplification of the sound. How could she still send him shooting to the roof in shock after all of these years?