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This fanfiction article, Halo: Where Did The Galaxy Go, was written by Distant Tide. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission. |
Most nights, the noises from the farm and woods augmented a young Kaye Hira’s slumber. Everything else from civilian Darter-flyovers to a camel drone up the road could set her off into wartime-like alertness. She grew up a naturally-light sleeper and a wailer, waking her family at odd hours of the morning with the effectiveness of a raid siren. No one liked it, but the habit evolved into something practical over the years.
She was up at the crack of dawn with the dogs and roosters. She was up in a hot minute at the first sign of augment-wolfdogs in pitch black when they came to poach the farm’s sheep and pen-trained Moa. She was the reliant one built-like-an-oxen, capable of doing roof work after that time her father fell off the second story and badly bruised his spine.
In the Hira household, Kaye was the youngest and yet the one responsible for all the chores. Two older sisters and older brother; they all left four years ago to pursue college and in-demand defense industry jobs deep in the human core worlds. That meant Kaye looked after the farm, her graying mother, and her hunched-over father.
To say she enjoyed the repetitive and dull farm work would be far from the truth. But she didn’t complain; most of the time. There was at least a six standard-year gap between herself and her siblings. And with the little income they were sending back to the farm, Kaye could at least be happy to have a refurbished farming drone fleet at her disposal and enough money to continue affording the augmentation treatments her parents started her on before she was even born.
The fourth child in the family, first in five generations to receive chemical augmentations as a Gattaca-baby. Her father was a near-cripple, her mother was getting too old for anything but household tasks. Kaye practically ran the farm, and at fourteen-years-old UEG-equivalent, she took pride in being able to draw a profit and then some. She had a chiseled physique, and an even sharper mind honed on early adoption of advanced mathematics and even some alien linguistics when the raptor-bird-aliens came knocking wanting to trade religion and wares for crops.
Her father referred to her as his “baby elephant,” while her mother called her “the family’s diamond Spartan.” She excelled at school and the neighbors would gush about her over gossip while in town. But underneath the veneer of praise and accomplishment, Kaye felt more like a prized pet than a valued contributor to the household, all the other factors withstanding.
She knew she played a vital role in keeping the farm running and profitable but sometimes that was just it, as if all she could be was a glorified housekeeper. Her siblings were out seeing the galaxy, and not once had Kaye visited space. She had the endowed-genetics for it, maybe even the talent to be a freelance cargo pilot. But she was left to care for the farm, and possibly their parents as they grew older and older.
Night noises from the farm or the neighboring woods rarely interrupted Kaye Hira’s slumber. However, anything else out of the ordinary could spring her in a moment’s notice, particularly aircraft flyovers or street-side service drones. She grew up a naturally-light sleeper, and a wailing-toddler-extraordinaire according to her mother. More than a few times, her nightmare-induced wails could summon her family to the cradle long before morning’s first light.
Kaye’s youngest-older sister once remarked her vocal cords were as loud as a Covenant raid siren. Ear-shattering screams aside, no one enjoyed those early development sacrifices but at least the habits and unorthodox talents contributed to something serviceable over the years. As the youngest daughter of the Hira family and homestead, Kaye was their twenty-sixth-century oxen. The family investment.
She was up at the crack of dawn with the dogs and roosters, maybe even before. She was up in a hot minute when the invasive wolfdogs visited the farm to poach the sheep and pen-trained Moa. She knew her way around the kitchen and the stables. Around the rifle and the automated tractor fleet. She picked up the roof work after her father plunged off the second story and bruised his spine. Kaye handled the chores, and then some.
In the Hira household, Kaye was the fourth child – the king undertaker of hand-me-downs to two older sisters and brother. Especially after they left four years ago to pursue college and in-demand defense industry jobs in the human core worlds. That left Kaye to watch over the farm, her graying mother, and her hunched-over father.
She rarely complained about the ‘unfairness’ of the situation, or the repetitive-dull farmhand work even though it wasn’t her favorite thing in the world. She knew her place, her parents were nearly indisposed and the six standard-year gaps with even her youngest sibling meant they were light-years away and out of reach. At least they sent money home. It was hard to be upset when the hard-won credits went toward the refurbished tractors and farming drones, and after handling the day-to-day expenses, it was nice to return to the augmentation treatments of her youth and before her birth.
Kaye wasn’t just an investment or the youngest child. She was a Gattaca-baby too. Children passively-augmented through and after gestation. Coveted chemical augmentations guaranteed her a chiseled physique and a sharpened mind. She was the first of her siblings and the first in five generations to receive such genetic alterations due to the price tag. She was quite literally everything her family and the farm needed her to be, and just at the right time too. With her parents old and not as capable, the teenager practically ran the entire property – taking pride that a fourteen-year-old UEG-equivalent could draw even a sizable profit.
She grasped advanced mathematics that would have made her sought after for starship work, and some alien linguistics when the raptor-bird-aliens showed up, wanting to trade religion and wares for crops. Kaye excelled in school and a target for positive gossip among neighbors in town. But underneath that veneer of praise and accomplishment, she felt more like a prized pet than a teenager approaching adulthood.
The Hiya daughter knew she played a vital role in keeping the farm alive as her parents’ dream of retiring after a lifetime of farming and survive through the terror of two major galactic conflicts. Her parents reinforced that, her father calling her his “baby elephant,” while her mother referred to her as “the family’s diamond Spartan.”
And yet, with her expensive upbringing and creation, she never got to truly use her talents – in her humble opinion. Her siblings had seen space, Kaye never made it past the blue sky above. She dared to dream of exploring that wondrous galaxy of stars she could make out every night, twinkling above her. She yearned for excitement, a surprise to enter her life that could fall into her lap and whisk her away to worlds unknown rather than stuck on the farm and in the dirt. It was a childish wish, she knew. But she was also a child – she didn’t want to be a glorified housekeeper for the rest of her working life. And for that matter, life-altering events didn’t just happen, and there was no way her life was suddenly going to drastically change gears.
That is, until one night, she jolted awake to the sound of soft static. It was a faint whisper emanating as short bursts through the expansive Hiya farmhouse. Unfamiliar but met with a short-lived moment of stubbornness, Kaye turned over to ignore the static noises passing through her open bedroom door.
She pulled her ultra-soft blanket over her shoulder and neck, sealing her form in fuzzy warmth. But the noise didn’t subside or disappear.
Deep down, she knew her duty to the farm. It took an extra moment, but she slipped the blanket off her form and planted her toes-then-heels atop the cold, synthetic-wood tiling. Attempting to shrink the size of her footfall-noise profile, she walked lightly heel-first with exaggerated strides, like a shinobi.
Three long paces and she was out of her room and into the hallway, her feet making soft puff noises as it stuck-and-released from the wooden surfaces. At first, she thought the strange noise was the noise-befuddler function built into the door to the master bedroom, even if the pitch was sharper. One too many times did she wake up to the noise-befuddler in those times her parents wanted to be a little frisky.
Not tonight, the noise-befuddler was off given her night-sight failed to detect subtle vibrations in the doorframe. The noise seemed to carry through the whole house, from all directions as if from multiple sources.