Commander Kurmar sighed as he watched the endless stream of information flow over the holographic screen in front of him. Frustration ate at his gut as the same results once again filled his screen.
For the last three weeks, he had spent countless hours, day and night, searching for something that, according to every known source of information, was gone.
He bit back a growl as he stood from his seat and began pacing the small confines of his private office. As the leader of the Eye, the largest galactic observatory in the known universe, he should be able to find something... Anything that would lead him to his target.
According to all information gathered, The Drift Prowler vanished thirty years ago, and no word has so much as been whispered about the deadly pirate ship since.
Anger overtook Kurmar’s frustration as he thought about what the captain of the Drift Prowler and his savage crew did to two hundred and eighteen of his own kind on board a harmless research vessel over eighty years ago. It was only by the grace of the universe that Korom survived the brutal attack.
Closing his eyes, Kurmar dropped his head and tried to think of the life Korom’s brother must have lived. What kind of male did he grow up to be? Was he even still alive? Even though Korom’s mother hid him as an infant inside a tiny vent shaft, his older brother was not so lucky. Taken by the brutal Pirates that raped and slaughtered his entire family, Talmur, the oldest son to the Talmur’Runa family, vanished to be raised by the worst the universe had to offer.
The last confirmed sighting of the Drift Prowler was thirty one years ago, in a far away district of the known galaxy. Reports claimed that the Captain of the ship, Fasami, docked with an outlaw port drifting at the borders of the Decagon territory. Just out of reach of the council, but close enough that pirates, murderers, smugglers, and thieves could use its nefarious facilities without fear of punishment from the Decagon.
One report Kurmar read was from a freight pilot who was forced to dock at the port with engine problems. After careful checks, Kurmar believed that this pilot was truthful and his recount could be trusted.
The pilot spoke of a strange accident taking place on the port, where many males were killed. The Drift Prowlers captain, as well as most of his crew, were seen entering a large drinking facility only moments before the power went out, plunging the entire station into darkness. When the lights came back on only moments later, what was left of the Drift Prowlers crew had to be cleaned up with a mop and bucket.
The next day, the Drift Prowler vanished from the port, never to be seen again.
Running his hands through his long hair, Kurmar glared at the holographic screens and thought back to his own Prime. The pain, fear and uncertainty that came with that time in a Miasm’s life still sent a shudder through him. He couldn’t imagine going through that alone, with no one to help him or tell him what was happening. Thoughts of his father and how he helped Kurmar through the hardest time in his life left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Kurmar may have escaped the destruction and death of his home planet and almost every single one of his species, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the pain of that loss every day. It was a constant battle he fought not only with the loss of his species, but with the fight inside himself. His darker side, his mist side wept and cried for his Tymora; his grounding force. Lost to him in the extinction of his planet, Kurmar clawed and fought his way out of the suffocating loneliness and pain that came with losing the only thing in the universe that could ground him and make him whole.
Shutting his eyes once again to stop the burn in them, Kurmar took in several long, deep breaths and tried to steady his mind and calm the rage that always threatened to spill over.
There was nothing he could do about that part of his life. His Tymora was gone, lost in the destruction of their home. For a Miasm, only one Tymora existed, as far as he knew. One that he had loved and cherished with the entirety of both his sides. Yet the loss grew more and more uncontrollable with each passing day. He could feel the mist side of him begging to be set free, to find what it needed, what was missing in his world. But Kurmar knew that if he let his control slip, even just for a moment, it would be the end of him.
It would be the last time he would take his mist form, never to reform into the male he was now again.
So, he kept it locked away, docile and obedient by sheer force and willpower.
As he stood in the center of his office, his mind lost in memories and worries, a faint pinging sound broke through to his slowly crumbling mind.
Frowning, he looked around, trying to find where the sound was coming from. Finally, his eyes stopped on the old hand held comp device he had from his days as a field researcher, over sixty years ago.
Walking over to it with an ever increasing frown, Kurmar lifted the small screen and turned it over. To his surprise and shock, there was a call coming in.
Unsure of what would be on the other end of the call, Kurmar answered without a word and waited.
“Why are you looking for the Drift Prowler, commander?” A deep, mechanically altered voice asked. A shiver ran down Kurmar’s spine at not only the sound of the voice, but at what had been asked. There was no way anyone could know that it was him looking for the Drift Prowler. Yes, most of the information requests came from the Eye, but they were all to trusted informants.
“Who is this?”
“Why are you looking for that ship?” The voice asked instead of answering his question.
“Are you the captain of the Drift Prowler? Captain Fasami?” Kurmar asked, hoping to get confirmation of who it was he was speaking to. Perhaps the captain of the pirate ship didn’t die that day, thirty years ago.
“I am Lorzarian,” The name made Kurmar pause. Translating to Death Bringer in the ancient Miasm language, an uneasy feeling began to build inside Kurmar before the voice continued, “Do not meddle in things you do not understand, Commander Kurmar. This is the only warning you will get. Stop looking for the Drift Prowler. It is gone. As is all of its crew.”
“I seek a male that once called the Drift Prowler home,” Kurmar said before the line could cut off, “He was taken from his family as a young boy. A Miasm male named Talmur. If you know of the Drift Prowler, then you must know of him. Please, I only need to know if he lives? There are so few of our kind left…” He let his words trail off, not sure why he had said so much to this stranger. Desperation to help at least one of his own kind in finding peace perhaps? Or was it because something in his gut was telling him that this male knew more about the Miasms and about Talmur than he let on.
A long silence filled the line and Kurmar had to check the screen to make sure the connection was still there. After a moment longer, Kurmar asked, “Are you still there?”
“That male died a long time ago,” The voice replied, but this time the cold, flat tone of his voice was replaced with a clearer, stronger emotion.
“I don’t believe you,” Kurmar said quietly, closing his eyes. He was pushing this mystery caller but he felt a deep need to figure this out and help Korom as best he could.
“Why?” Was all the voice asked.
Kurmar let out a long sigh and sat down in his large, well worn chair. He thought about what to say, but figured that the truth would be best in this situation.
“His brother wishes to find him. To reunite with the only family he has left. To not feel so lost and alone anymore.”
Another long silence filled the line, before the deep voice spoke, making an ice cold shiver of dread run over Kurmar’s skin at the angry, flat tone.
“If my brother is alive, then I will find him myself.”