I, Propitiator: "Chapter 1"

Chapter 1

Of all the regal ways that love can come, there is that protection unseen so that you are overwhelmed by its power when you finally realize its existence.

Saluton Terran,

My name is Seraphina Atarah Avner, but most people just call me Sarah. My purpose in writing this book for you to read is so that you will be aware of how the Prime I looks out for even you, who knows not of him. My means of dispensing such proof is primarily to show you how he has provided for my brother Oliver and me.

    Now since you Terrans are simply unaware of us Ies, allow me to first explain to you that Oliver is now the captain of the Sol System Space Station, which primarily oversees the protection of Terra Lapsa. Most Ies, actually do not realize that they are one until they reach adulthood, but in my case as well as my brother’s, we realized who we were at about the age of four. This gave us a significant advantage in getting involved with the Ies in this sector and getting closer to the Prime I. However, that alone would not be enough for such an important figure to take notice in Oliver or me. Reasonable speculation implies that things really started to change on 31002 MST. It was early morning when Oliver nearly sprayed my face with the yogurt in his mouth.

“Why are they keeping me here?” He shouted more than asked.

Trying to collect thoughts, my mouth felt dry as a response left without my full consideration, “Keeping you where?”

In an irritated tone he repeated, “The Arashad Resistance has stationed me at Convala Community College for another year.”

“Why is that?”

“They need more Ies over there because they believe there are several Ies, who don’t know who they are, living in the area…”

“Isn’t that good enough reason to be content with it?”

Oliver sighed knowing that my calm answer held immense truth behind it as he nearly whispered, “Yes… but it would have been nice to finally get away from so many Ies that acted like Terrans though.”

Taking advantage of the slowed tone, sense guided me to approach him telepathically (as many realized Ies can use among themselves,) instead, ‘And yet here we are, defending the Terrans from the Arashad Regime. How can you not love them?’

He nodded solemnly as he switched his tipir to stealth mode and operated the ship’s teleporter to send himself down to an alley near the school that was empty at that time. Oliver walked out of the alley with his tipir clipped to his backpack as he strode into the library to study psychology with his friends Amelia and Ross.

Now for your sake, it is my duty to clarify that Ies do not have the means to verify whether someone is an I unless the I the person knows that they are an I. This particular factor can make it frustrating for people like my brother Oliver that are constantly in the midst of Ies that act like Terrans because they do not know any better. It is even worse when the I knows they are one, yet still acts like a Terran, oblivious to the dangers that really surround not only them, but also the planet, galaxy, or universe for that matter.

“I forget; why is human memory fallible?” Amelia inquired.

“Primarily because it can be altered by emotion,” Oliver restated.

Amelia was one of those people that especially worried Oliver because some days she would truly help him with things Ies needed to be doing, like tipirship, and other days, like today, she would act like nothing existed beyond school. This tendency to shrug off all responsibility as an I no doubt irritated my brother. Of the Ies that knew their identity and the Ies that acted like they were Terrans, she was among the best of them that played both sides. Ross then tilted his head as a look of confusion crossed his mind, “Who is the Galton person?”

Oliver winced, “Oh he’s a cousin of Darwin. If memory serves correctly, he has to do with eugenics under the premises that larger heads equal smarter people or something of the sort.”

Now Ross on the other hand had yet to state whether or not he was an I, though he did attend an elementary school that many I parents will send their children to, provided not all the students there are Ies, it simply was not clear. My speculation at the time was that Ross was one of those people that was born an I, yet hadn’t stepped into it and rebuilt his physiological mind to actually take the race and nature of an I. Anyways, after about two hours of studying psychology, Oliver informed them that he had to get to class, packed his stuff and left. Along the way, Tyler, a fellow I, came up to Oliver as he headed to class. Taking into account that Terrans were present, he telepathically inquired of Oliver, ‘Last we spoke on such matters, you informed me that you were typically not on Terra Lapsa on Tuesdays, but what about Fridays? Can you meet for tipir practice then?’

Oliver shook his head, ‘In the long run that will not work, but this Friday my schedule might be open… we’ll see.’

‘Ok, great! Hopefully you can make it! See you Thursday for the normal stuff!’ Tyler said as he parted paths.

It was now mid-afternoon as Oliver entered his counseling 11 class. Meanwhile, the ship’s teleporter was busy carrying me down to the stall in the ladies bathroom since that was, at the moment, completely empty. From there, my plan was to meet with Daedalus, a close friend of mine at the time. You wouldn’t say he stole my heart or even my breath, but for some reason, he often invaded my mind. Perhaps it was his soft blonde hair that kept my attention or how his voice was as smooth as his skin that made me wonder about him. Regardless, he found me before my eyes could see the bench we had planned to meet at. Covering my eyes with his velvet-like hands, he inquired, “Guess who?”

“Daedalus”

He sighed, “You’re no fun…”

With a laugh, it seemed sensible to give a retort, “You’re the only one that still does that.”

“Yeah and I’m also the only Terran that knows you’re not one.”

“Hey, not so loud, you know they can’t know.”

Now whispering, he apologized, “Oh sorry! I forgot… Well I wanted to take you to see this cool band. They’re called The Cyafs and they all look like robots or something.”

“What? But Cyafs are a race of… oh great… now the Arashad Regime is gonna be really interested in Terra La- how did they pick such an unoriginal name for themselves?”

He frowned, “You weren’t supposed to figure it out that fast… It’s actually just a band some friends of mine told me about. They’re local, but I think they have potential.”

For those of you unfamiliar with what a Cyaf is, they are another alien race. Like the Ies, nearly all of them are part of the Arashad Resistance. However, they don’t really do much besides infiltrating technology and causing trouble behind the scenes. One thing about them is that they have a pattern of showing up at the weirdest times, never really giving consideration to circumstance. Continuing on, the following words left my mouth, “Alright, let’s go… They’re not called The Cyafs, right?”

“No, they call themselves Phantom’s Echo.” He reassured me.

So from there we got in his car as he drove us to see them play in concert. While Daedalus was keeping me entertained, Oliver got out of class early since it was the first day and retreated back to our ship by dialing a special phone number. Then walking to the Tipir Room, he pulled it out to practice the Tarusian maneuver. Now since you Terrans don’t know how a tipir is wielded, let alone what it is, the responsibility to tell you falls on me again.

A tipir is an energy weapon, shaped much like a short staff, wielded best by the Ies. It can be controlled physically, verbally, and telepathically by special coded commands that were designed by the Prime I himself. Tipirs vary in color, partially dependant on the person that made the tipir and partially on the person who primarily wields it. For this and other reasons, an I will typically wield one tipir and stick with that tipir their whole life.

“The Ies need not fear because the Prime I has redeemed their spirit!” Oliver said, causing his tipir to jump out of his hand glowing with a vibrant green and spin slightly.

“What could not be done by I Lapsa, the very spirit of the Prime I overcomes. For as a stray arrow allows the enemy to kill you, so had I Lapsa allowed us all to die. Yet with much labor, the Prime I blockaded the path the enemy sought to take when he was bent on our destruction.” At these words, the tipir whirled around, rotating faster and moving in a series of complex patterns, forming a shield of energy around Oliver.

Oliver continued, “This was all done not only so that we could be safe from the enemy, but also so we could become like the Prime I, harnessing the energy within ourselves to join him on his campaign of sabotage against the Arashad Regime.”

The tipir then lunged forward at alarming speeds, slashing and piercing through imaginary opponents. With a flare of red it shot out bolts of energy then returned to Oliver’s side. He nodded in satisfaction of his attempt of the first part of the complicated maneuver, the rest of it would have to wait for a more open time, he felt obligated to greet me as the ship teleported me back onboard. Twirling his tipir to shut it off, he turned and left the room. With slight hesitation he asked, “How was your day?”

My mind struggled to find words to answer my brother with, so all that could be managed was, “It was nice.”

Unsatisfied with my short and perhaps obviously response, he pressed on, ‘Seraphina, you know that doesn’t really answer my question… How was it nice?’

Only my brother used that name more than the shortened form most people chose. He also had a tendency to address you by name when you aren’t acting up to par and he’s hoping you’ll remember something you learned from him some time in the past. Perhaps he thinks saying the person’s name will help them remember whatever truth or idea he’s wishing they had remembered. Whatever it may be, my lips parted once more, “Daedalus took me to see this radical band that is comprised of Terrans, but sounds a lot like music you’d expect Ies or Cyafs to be playing.”

‘Odd… Since we don’t believe in coincidences, doesn’t that make you wonder how that came to be?’

“Perhaps, but why worry about it?”

He nodded, “Yeah, Daedalus may be strange, but he’s definitely a good guy. You know the other day he dropped off some old textbooks of his so that an extra trip to the school bookstore became unnecessary?”

“How nice of him…”

“Wow do you sound dreeeamy…” Oliver mocked.

Turning my face away, emotions dictated that it would be better to just let it be and call it in early for the night. There was enough evidence to make it so that trying to convince my brother that Daedalus didn’t at least interest me would be an exercise in futility. So we both went to bed shortly after that conversation.