A small panel in the wall flickered with a live cast newsreel, casting shadows on the motel room walls. On the screen a symbiot addressed the camera, its blank featureless face laughably outshone by the lanky humanoid beside it, who was elegantly draped in a cream robe adorned by sprays of gold thread. The humanoid's pearlescent skin shimmered and appeared somewhat wet in the glaring lights. Their white, irisless eyes stared blankly into the camera.

“Today, the Genetic Preservation Delegation released a statement,” the symbiot was saying, “that a date has been set for the male and female delegates representing the original sapien species to unite in a traditional terran marriage. In this statement, they also claim that both delegates, whose identities and exact whereabouts have been closed to the public since birth, have agreed to this arrangement and their duty to continue the lineage of humanity’s dwindling predecessor species. Here we have High Lord Delegate Ren Lin of the Ranac species, who has graciously agreed to give us an exclusive look at the origins of this ages-old delegation.”

Before the Ranac could answer, Kayl abruptly rose from the motel bed, shut off the newsreel, and went to stand by the small solitary window for which his handler Solace had paid a hefty premium - one that went directly to the desk clerk's pocket.

“They make us sound like endangered animals who need help mating,” he said glumly. His entire body ached, his nerves were frayed. Through the grimy glass he gazed at the empty street below and marveled at Solace's ability to find a refuge so well hidden from the bustle of the crowded Pimetha station. Just hours ago they had been elbowing through throngs of people just to get out of the port. He swiveled to address her. “Why have the Supervisors not told anyone what happened yet?”

Solace, whose large muscular frame was comfortably reclined in a grungy armchair of questionable color, did not look up from her book. “They likely won’t say a word until they absolutely must, otherwise every bounty hunter worth their salt would be looking for both of you. I’m sure many factions outside of the Agna Enlightened are looking to get their hands on the last two known homo sapiens. You and your partner are practically genetic royalty.”

Kayl quickly drew the window shade closed. “How would they even find us? Nobody outside of the inner palace knows our faces - and they're likely all on lockdown as we speak.”

Solace's glossy midnight fur glinted as she tilted her face to glance up at him. “My Lord Delegate,” she answered, “I respectfully point out that you have spent your entire life hidden away in a heavily fortified base on a long-deserted planet. You have no identity for traveling legally, no money - no skills to earn money. Also,” she added, gesturing to her face, “you're as furless as my great-great-great-great-great grandad. For these reasons, you are a very easy target.”

Kayl chewed his lip. Solace was of the Thmien species, who were known as much for their pragmatism as their fathomless obsidian eyes. "Well there are so many different human species now - a good number of them without fur - and the prevalence of homo sapiens has long passed...Supervisor Ivii told me once during my genetic diversity studies that there's a one in ten chance that someone would ever recognize my kind."

Solace lowered her eyes to her book. "Supervisor Ivii's knowledge is vast," she answered mechanically, "Sadly I am no academic, I must humbly rely on the bluntness of my instinct."

Kayl twisted his mouth to fight an amused smile. Interpretation? "That pompous blowhard doesn't know anything beyond his fancy palacial doorstep," though she would staunchly deny it if he asked her to confirm that rendition.

All roles and positions in the inner palace were organized into a heirarchy and within that, a rigid code of conduct was enforced. Service roles were expected, on pain of dismissal and high financial penalties, to defer with utmost respect and submission to any ranked official in the Delegation. Solace had only been assigned to Kayl as bodyguard for the last year, but in that time he had come to learn that hidden within her customary deference and propriety was a delightful defiance in expressing her opinion and he secretly enjoyed deciphering her true meaning. It was such a refreshing change from the canned, two-dimensional responses of everyone else.

He decided to prod her a bit. "Yes," he agreed, "I'd be a fool for taking his word over yours. You are a skilled bodyguard who knows much more of the universe beyond my little home on Earth. Supervisor Ivii has never even been to Earth's moon."

Solace's head snapped up again. "My Lord Delegate," she warned with a frown, "you shouldn't say such things."

"Yes, yes," he interjected with a sigh, "I suppose I should reign in my tongue before I get too comfortable disparaging the Honorable Supervisors. You'll have to report me when we get back, you know."

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Sir as I've told you before, your eloquence is not a thick enough veil for your impishness."

He snorted. "Works on everyone else but you. Any word on Kayla?”

Solace’s eyebrows raised. “Not since when you asked me an hour ago." She studied him for a few seconds, then added, "My lord, please take this opportunity to rest. We have been traveling for days without stopping, you must be alert for the next leg of our journey.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to ignore the puff of dust sent into the air. “And where will that take us?”

“A safehouse on Nuyorck. Kayla and her guard will be heading there as well.”

He laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling where plaster was bubbling from age. He exhaled slowly, comforted by the sound. The sudden calm of the last hour was almost comical in juxtaposition with the surreal odyssey of the seventy hours prior. Now that they had finally stopped running, he felt drawn to take advantage of the brief pause to replay and reflect on their flight from Earth.