How We Saved Haykitor

She marched right up to the commander and spit in his face.

“You don’t own me. You don’t own shit!”

Craylin didn’t have a moment to prepare for the crack of the commander’s large steak of a hand upon her face. It brought little stars into her eyesight and she stood stunned for only a moment before breaking into a deep undulating cackle. As the cackle grew louder a small fluttering sound could be heard. The commander looked over his shoulder to the sky.

“You…”

“Me,” whispered Craylin as the gentle fluttering turned into the ignorant beating of thousands of sparrow wings.

“Code 40! Code 40! Move! Move! Move!”

The remainder of the company fled as Craylin stood rooted to the spot on the red grass.

Birds were not indigenous to the planet Haykitor. Long ago the inhabitants had a bad experience with birds. With them came what the people thought of as a curse for their wrongdoings. The sky was black for three days straight and no one wanted to go outside for fear of the strange creatures. Many died. Haykitorians can only survive one day without food before their bodies reach eternal stasis. Death.

Now it was happening again. The Commander had never ever had to call a Code 40. But he knew from his training that it was one of the most important protocols in their rule book. So important it was reviewed every 6 months and updated as necessary.

No one knew why it had ever happened as it had only happened once in the known history of the small planet. They came, darkened the sky, ate the crops, and left. Even the people of the land began passing down the story to their children about the black sky massacre. Before the bird incident the Haykitorians were a peaceful race, sharing everything without a second thought. Some of these offspring took these stories to heart and devoted much of their time to adding to the 3-day stock pile that most inhabitants had started to build. So many of the people were stockpiling that it only seemed right to bring the stock pile into one accessible place. The central stockpile hub and tunnels were built over the span of three years. From then the people of the planet vowed to save a third of their harvest for the central stockpile. From the hub ran many tunnels that led to the homes of the people. The Haykitorians were not playing any games.

Now, on this day, the people of the planet were in a panic. Everyone ran to their homes or the nearest building with a tunnel. Craylin stood surrounded by her sparrows. This is what she was here for. This would change everything. Craylin spent hundreds of years hiding on the planet of Haykitor in many many different forms as to remain anonymous.

She was at headquarters in the middle of a briefing concerning her next job (which was to remain unknown to her until she was halfway there in her merkaba vehicle) when a growing concern alert went off. There was 23% chance of agents being pursued and all SMAMs (safety measures against malevolents) needed to be activated before departure. Craylin didn’t think much of it. 23% wasn’t as bad as your 50s and 70s. But, nonetheless she activated her SMAM as soon as she started her vehicle.

“You don’t fuck with protocol, when it’s set in place for the good of all.”

Rule number one rang cleanly in her head. As she came closer to the halfway point, Craylin internally sensed a notion of danger mere moments before the small red alert began blinking on the dash board. As a tracking defense, she shattered into an infinite number of birds and visited many planets, moons, stars, rocks and even a few space vehicles on their own journeys. Her Universal tracker turned into its own bird and stayed on course, all the way to Haykitor.

The bird landed in a field abundant with some kind of grain she had yet to experience. After tasting it and seeing that it was good for consumption, the bird hopped away to a mountainside cave. Finally hidden, one by one, the bird began to call each of the rest of its parts. The birds came in a gust of wing flaps and darkened the sky. They ate for three days until the last bird had finally filled its belly. The moment it was satisfied, the birds turned into the form of Craylin Jugishka: chief regulator of the Jomonian people. She then went into a hibernation hoping it would keep her hidden from her enemy.

A short while later, her enemies (a cunning, clever, malevolent race of creatures called Militaaris) tracked her to the planet but could find her nowhere. They set up shop on Haykitor under the guise of being able to protect the people from the evil creatures which darkened their skies. Companies weighed down with weapons were strategically placed on the planet, big ugly grey fortresses were built, Haykitorians were recruited to join the Militaaris to learn how to fight with weapons, and for the first time in their history, money was introduced to the people. The money, jobs, and crops were controlled. The Militaaris told them it would make them more prosperous to have their own things instead of always having to share the stuff they worked so hard to obtain.

There was a faction of Haykitorians who secretly and subtly resisted the Militaaris and kept to their regular ways. The ways which had worked for as long as their history went back. They were non-resistant but they did not back down to the new rules that had been brought to their land. This faction didn’t feel the need to keep their things to themselves. But there was another much larger group of individuals who had taken on the ways of the Militaaris. They joined their communities, mated with their men and women, and took on the haughty, forceful ways of their new leaders. They abandoned their traditional Haykitorian families.

During the reconstruction of Haykitor, Craylin hid in plain sight using her shapeshifting ability to take on different forms. She used this ability to spy on the generals and commanders who were in charge of the daily activities of the Militaaris. Eventually she took on the form of a Militaaris Sky Fighter’s Militia member. Which brought her to today. She was fed up with the ways this race had imposed on these once peaceful and unified folk.

“This ends today,” said Craylin quietly from the flock of birds. With that, she took a deep breath and with all her might she let out the war song that her people once revered, but now feared because it could be destructive when used inappropriately. But Craylin was a boss. Being trained by Larina for 12 hours a day, 6 days a week will give one a much coveted boss status.

Craylin sang the Militaaris name over and over throughout the song, in order to direct the notes to their true enemy. Once the final note ended, the birds receded, and all the Militaaris dropped to the ground in permanent eternal stasis. Unfortunately, the ritual which had turned many Haykitorians into Militaaris, was permanent and they died as well.

“Craylin…” the Haykitorian rebel elder who was also spying on the Militaaris (in whom Craylin had found protection and trust) rushed over to her.

“This? This is what you have come to do? But the violence it’s-”

“It was necessary Telimtare. It was a job. And now you and your people are free to be who you are without interference. “We heard your call. YOUR call Telimtare. You asked for help to free your people. You said by any means necessary. These are the means my friend.”

“It is sad. But I understand.”

"You would. That is why you should lead them, tell them it’s okay and show them how to get back to living like a true Haykitorian.”

“Dear Craylin. We can have no leaders here. Only unity. Only together can we honestly live.”

“Well then. Happy living old friend. I’m pretty sure I’ll have another assignment coming through soon. I have to go-”

“Craylin, wait.”

Craylin turned to look at the older creature she had come to love as a brother.

“Stay with us.”

“That’s not how my life works honey bun.”

Craylin sat down where she stood and began activating her Merkaba for takeoff.

“Will we see you again?"

“Doubt it.”

The old man cast his eyes to the ground.

“I’m not really good with goodbyes so um…yup.”

And in the blink of an eye she was gone.