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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Maxton1811 on 2026-04-24 03:22:16+00:00.
Kethis, Watch The Skies Senior Technician
Nareth Sanctuary. The name alone still carried the smell of wet leaves and undisturbed soil. It seemed like such a long time ago that I first awakened there, though in truth it had been only fifteen years. My sire, and his before her, had chosen this place to continue their lines. Among the Arazi, it was a quiet tradition to return to one’s origin sanctuary when the time came to sire a fledgling. So when I was filling out the Reproductive Board’s forms, Nareth had been my only real choice.
Gravel crunched beneath the wheels of my pertran as I drove out past city limits and into the countryside. For the most part, there was precious little to see save for swathes of perfectly-cultured crops and understated facilities for cloning meat. In the far distance, atop a hill, a surface-to-space cannon sat idle, serving no purpose for the moment save to remind me of my assigned job.
After the Ebene War, with the whole of our planet united under the Directorate, the Astronomy and Security Boards cooperated to form the Watch The Skies Program. Untold billions of taxed merit points were poured into creating defenses that could hope to secure our civilization against potential alien threats. Naturally, peaceful contact was the dream, but we’d be foolish to take it as a guarantee and be caught sleeping. Meanwhile, sensor arrays were constructed to search the stars for signs of life. We found evidence of organic chemistry in other systems, as well as radio signals flagged as potentially artificial, but none of it was truly conclusive. As a result, expansion of the program has slowed over the years, settling into a steady flow of new equipment and small projects with the occasional big upset.
“Leave it to you to be thinking of work on your siring day, Kethis,” I chuffed to myself in amusement, returning my undivided attention to the road ahead as rural buildings rapidly bled away into the carefully curated wilderness expanse of Nareth Sanctuary.
The sanctuary’s outer checkpoint came into view a few minutes later, a low structure of poured stone and dark glass set beside the preserve gate. Three more pertrans idled in place in front of me as one by one they pulled up to the checkpoint, where two armed Arazi rangers awaited them. Each vehicle was briefly searched and its occupants interviewed before eventually being allowed to pass. Finally, as my own vehicle came to the front of the line, I unlocked my doors and rolled down the side window as instructed. “Identification and siring pass, please,” the first ranger said, not unfriendly but not especially interested either. Behind us, the other ranger opened the back doors of my pertran and sifted carefully through its interior.
Ignoring the search, I slowly reached for my phone and pulled up my state identification as well as the digital siring pass sent to me. “Here you go,” I began, allowing her to scan the codes on both.
Quickly verifying my information, the ranger stepped into her booth and printed out a bright orange wristband before returning to the side of my vehicle and watching as I fastened it on. “Looks like everything is in order, Senior technician Kethis.” She began, scanning her own identification to open the gate. “Your assignment is at Ranger Station Twenty Seven. Follow the east preserve road until the signs split, then take the marsh route.”
“Thank you,” I replied, offering the rangers a deferential ear flick as they stepped aside, allowing me to drive into the sanctuary. Beyond the checkpoint fence, I saw movement in the trees as a curious young Coltak leapt between branches before sitting down to watch me from above.
Thin slivers of daylight peeked through the sanctuary’s dense forest cover, glinting off of brightly-colored signs that denoted the direction of various ranger stations. Every now and again, I caught glimpses of more Coltak—sunbathing on well-placed rocks, brachiating through the carefully curated canopy, and playing at the edge of artificial ponds with fellow members of their troupes. Their lives here were well-managed to be as carefree as possible.
Speed limits within sanctuaries were deliberately kept low to prevent Coltak from being hit. Checking my vehicle’s built-in speedometer, I made sure to keep my speed a few resh below forty. For someone used to working in systems that could measure the distance between stars and launch projectiles at the velocity to escape orbit, a mere forty billionths the speed of light seemed rather quaint by comparison.
Ranger Station Twenty Seven was difficult to miss. Concrete walls and a large parking lot enclosed by smooth stone walls stood starkly against the faux-natural landscape that surrounded them. Pulling in and parking my vehicle beside a ranger’s more rugged vehicle, I stepped out into the sanctuary’s open air and took a moment to collect myself before stepping into the lobby.
“Welcome,” the receptionist began politely as I approached his desk. “Can I get your name and identification number, please?”
“Kethis-6065821,” I replied, handing over my identification. “I have an appointment for siring today.”
Scanning my wristband, the receptionist retrieved a sampling device and gestured for me to hold out my wrist. Reluctantly agreeing, I watched as the needle was stuck in, extracting my blood up to a line. “I’m going to run a few tests. Once they’re done, a ranger will be with you. Please have a seat.”
Plastered on the walls of the ranger station were dozens of educational posters regarding the Coltak and their unique relationship with our species. I was reading a diagram on the Arazi worm when finally a ranger came out to greet me. “Kethis?” She began, gesturing for me to follow as she turned around and proceeded down a long hallway. “My name is Ekelti, and I’ll be the Ranger facilitating your siring today. Your blood work all came back nominal. Plenty of healthy eggs.”
“Thank you,” I replied, as though the ranger’s medical analysis was supposed to be a compliment rather than mere observation.
“Your file says this is your first time siring,” she continued, peering down at the clipboard in her hands. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I confessed, following her through a doorway threshold that led to an examination room. The walls were painted with off-green pastels, bringing to mind the forest outside.
Taking a seat where the ranger pointed, I accepted the paper offered to me and began to fill out the remaining few details. “Everyone’s nervous their first time,” Ekelti told me, accepting the filled form back and setting it onto the counter beside her. “What sort of Arazi do you hope arises from this?”
It was a question I’d asked myself dozens of times over the past few weeks, and still I had no answer that satisfied me. “I suppose I just hope that whatever job my fledgling tests for, that they make a positive contribution to The Unified Directorate.”
“You checked the box saying you want to be put in contact with your fledgling once they complete their orientation: is that correct?” the ranger asked, seeking clarification on the form’s most important question.
“Yes,” I affirmed, watching as the ranger mixed together ingredients for the Coltak’s sweet beverage. “My sire kept in contact with me, and we’re still good friends. I see no reason why my own fledgling shouldn’t have the same fortune.”
“Just making sure,” the ranger replied, their ears twitching with satisfaction as they wheeled in a large extraction machine, pouring the sweet drink into one of its tanks. “Put your arm in the hole and grip the handle. We need to extract two hundred yotta mass of blood.”
Doing as the ranger commanded, I reached my hand into the machine and grasped its inner handle as requested, flinching slightly as I felt the needle greedily breach my skin. Little by little, a transparent tank filled up with dark red as the machine painlessly sucked out a mass of blood equivalent to two hundred septillion hydrogen atoms—about the mass of a small cup of water. Upon drawing the necessary quantity, a blue light turned on, indicating to me that I could remove my arm.
“Alright,” the ranger continued in an upbeat tone, pressing a button on the machine to mix together my blood with the sweet liquid before pressing down on a tap to pour the resulting liquid into a receptacle. “Are you ready to meet the Coltak that will be hosting your fledgling?”
“Indeed,” I nodded, watching as Ekelti grabbed the device at her side and spoke into it.
“Jion: bring in Coltak-2594870432, sanctuary name ‘Alki’.”
Silence was far from a favored companion of mine, and yet nevertheless it always seemed to find a way to reach me. “How have things been here at the sanctuary?” I asked Ekelti, seeking to fend off the dead air with conversation as we awaited the Coltak.
“Busy,” she replied, leaping up onto the counter to access some overhead cabinets. “Sanctuary work always is, though. No conflict between Coltak troupes to worry about lately—they’re all well-fed and carefully socialized, so fighting is rare. We’ve accelerated cloning to bolster their population, and Coltak mothers are ac...
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