Rynal, struggling to wake, blinked his eyes open catching glimpses of sun beams flooding in through his bedroom window. This was his tenth year, over 3000 days, calling planet Maltick his home and yet the cold air still stung like it was day one. ‘Some things never change’ he thought to himself as he threw the covers back. “Time?” Rynal asks. The clock to his right, resting on his bedside hover shelf, projects green illuminated numbers as a soft feminine voice announces “two twenty-seven p.m.” “Shit!” he exclaims, stumbling out of the sheets eyeing his jeans draped over the end of the bed. He’d let them fall down to his ankles with each step making his way through the hall and into his bedroom just a short five hours before. He was supposed to be meeting Calrue at the Corner Pub and should have been leaving ten minutes ago.

Rynal had spent the last twenty years being an interplanetary liaison, traveling to neighboring planets and galaxies negotiating peaceful resource trading. Last night was coming back to him in bits and pieces as he made his way to the wet room to wash it off. ‘How many Froongals did I have? 7? 8?’ he wondered as he made out his tired reflection in the mirror. He was a handsome man, 6’1, dark brown hair, green eyes, with a youthful yet confident face. ‘However many it took’ he concluded. He had been in deliberations with Resources Commander Delvin Leon, a robust man with thinning hair, and an unwavering love for Froondon, the last five months, traveling, almost weekly, between the two planets. Gaining Mr. Leon and his beloved planet as a resource ally came with a great sense of accomplishment and a sigh of relief.

Froondon’s positioning to the galaxy’s Sun Star gifted the planet specialized heat producing crystals, dubbed Heliohex crystals. They’re marked for their rapid growth and regeneration as well as their ability to produce and maintain heat. A recent discovery on Froondon had uncovered a wealthy supply and Rynal had secured a five year trade agreement for these crystals.

“Shower, on. Water temperature: 2 notches down,” he said to the empty air as he turned a 180. The water began pouring down and the sliding door to the wet stall opened. He reached his hand into the rainfall testing the temperature. He hoped the cold shower would reset his body but mostly his mind. The nightmares had started coming again and had even made their way through the 8? 7? Froongals from last night.

One scoop electrolytes.

One scoop All-heal Lite.

8 oz of water.

Hesitating slightly at the smell, Rynal chugged the concoction citing to himself “Another one down.” After years of long nights of hosting and interplanetary travel he had come to rely on this old healing drink, first discovered and used by the last known peoples from planet Earth. By looks alone, one would think he was consuming a refreshing hydrating glass of water, but the smell took on a life of its own. “Like fermented wheat and rotting nut cheese.” He noted the familiar smell and after-taste as he placed his cup into the rinser and started out the door.

Rynal rubbed his hands together vigorously cupping his face to trap the heat for a moment before the cold invaded again. “Message Calrue:” he said to his bodily comms. System. “Hey buddy, running a little late. Delvin had me going one for one with the Froongals and I touched down a little later than expected. Save me some Malshots.” As he strolled on toward the pub, taking in the familiar sights, smells, and sounds of the town, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck and tops of his ears stand. Something about the air was eerie. He checked his messages. Nothing from Calrue yet. ‘He’s probably tanked already’ Rynal thought.

Calrue, a shorter than average but nonetheless striking man, was Rynal’s best friend and his first upon coming to Maltick. They met in an old Pub, now a Nitro-bean café, called “Smitty’s.” Upon entering the pub for the first time, Rynal eyed an empty stool at the bar between Calrue and a slumped over heap of brown jacket, stained pants, and half-tied dirty boots. “Regis never did know when enough was enough,“ laughed Calrue as he took another sip from his mug. “Name’s Calrue. Let me buy you a strong one.”

Calrue was what they used to call a blue-collar man. He repaired, maintained, and formatted Auto-borgs as a contract worker. The hands on work came easy to him; tinkering was in his nature. Being a contract worker gave him the freedom to enjoy his favorite hobbies: gardening and drinking at the pub. That day at Smitty’s started a multi-decade long friendship between the two. Rynal hadn’t been able to trust someone enough to call “friend” in ages, but Calrue was different. Honest, loyal, and giving. He was refreshing for Rynal.

‘Should have brought him an elixir’ Rynal thought as he checked his messages again. He was growing more and more suspicious of Calrue’s silence. The Corner Pub was in his sights, he stood only about twenty yards from its entrance, and he could hear unfamiliar voices from inside. This time of the day was chiseled out for locals almost exclusively. Rynal felt his blood begin to warm his cheeks as red flooded up from his chest and into his neck and face. ‘It can’t be. Can it?’

His mind was racing frantically with old memories as he approached the pub doors and extended his hand toward the Scan-Wave. The system checked his finger and thermal prints, verifying his age and financial standing before allowing him to enter. He swallowed down a hard lump in the back of his throat, thinking of all the possibilities awaiting him. Just then the doors opened to reveal to him the locals he had been expecting, surrounding a table of three men he’d not been expecting but that his intuition had told him were there.

Bounty hunters.

They were dressed in protective body armor suits, carried beam guns at their hips, and the man, whose unfamiliar voice he heard regaling his friends with tales of the lost evil planet of Earth, donned an arm patch signifying his Special Ops Commander status. The Special Ops team was dedicated to finding one man. The one man with the biggest bounty on his head in all known accessible galaxies; the lost leader of the Old Earth.

The planet Earth, or Old Earth, was once a beautiful world with changing seasons and thriving life. It was one of the first planets to participate in interplanetary resource trading and some considered it the pioneer planet for resource discovery. Earth and it’s then planetary ruler, Bartron Wheaton III, aided in the discovery of new resources from abandoned uninhabited planets, resources that improved upon the planet’s seemingly unstoppable global warming issue. Bartron was an environmentalist and truly loved his planet Earth, but he was still human. Lingering in the depths of his mind were harbored thoughts of mortality and greed that drove him to reveal the darkest parts of the human being.

One afternoon his Interplanetary Resource Discovery and Recovery team came to him with one of their greatest findings. They had gone to a planet at the edge of the galaxy, one that they had almost overlooked when first mapping out their Discovery route. Planet Z4, later renamed “Giovane” for its magnificent and dangerous resource, the brown youth stone. Upon the team’s arrival on Planet Z4, their elemental radars directed them to a grouping of trees surrounded by a wall of brown stone. Once back on Earth, the team of scientists studied their stone samples for months running tests and experiments before learning its true power as an anti-aging serum. Bartron, eager to have us much time as he could to save other planets and life, as he had begun saving Earth, bathed with the stone letting its elements wash over him.

Eventually Bartron lost sight of his passion and succumbed to his greed. The absence of aging changed his perspective on life and how to live it. He no longer cared about bettering the planet for everyone, he only cared about finding more resources as powerful and magnificent as the brown youth stone. His neglect for the planet and its future well-being caused a revolt from Old Earth’s people. A planetary war broke out bringing Earth to its demise by their hands. Historical records conclude that about ten thousand people. a fractional percentage of the entire human population on Earth at that time, made it out safely to live out their lives on neighboring planets. Though the brown youth stone had stopped Bartron from aging, it did not shield him from the atomic destruction of planet Old Earth.

Over the decades there had been claimed sightings of Bartron and some believe him to be living on, undetected, though nobody has ever been able to say with certainty.

Rynal made eyes with Calrue who didn’t appear drunk off his socks from Malshots like he’d been expecting to find him. He had an expression Rynal didn’t recognize on his friend. He looked guilty. As he made his way over toward the table of men he knew he was facing betrayal; Calrue was the only living person who knew his secret. Rynal understood why he’d done it, but it still felt like a knife to his back. Calrue’s stature put him at a physical disadvantage to these trained hunters, but his financial hardship left him with no choice. The promise of a life of unlimited wealth was too much for any human to pass up. Rynal readied his hand over his left hip preparing to engage his hyrbid armor suit.

Just then the Head Hunter, eyeing Rynal, said through a sideways smirk, “Give it up. We know it’s you, Bartron.”

Rynal, rushing with adrenaline, turned to his friend to say, “I can’t believe you told them my secret, Calrue. Now I have to disappear, again!” He dug his hands into his hip letting his armor engulf him and turned to a sprint toward the pub doors. ‘Some place warmer this time’ he thought ‘definitely someplace warmer.’