The Felid Keeper's words – "the most significant event this Sanctuary has witnessed in ten thousand cycles" – hung in the luminous air, heavy with unspoken expectation.
Both she and the old Canid were looking at me, Bolt, the "Memory-Bearer," the "catalyst."
But before I could even begin to process what that might mean, what impossible burden they might be about to lay on my furry shoulders, Eva stepped forward.
Her earlier awe was gone, replaced by a fierce, protective intensity that I knew well. It was the same look she got when a port inspector was trying to scam her, or when we were flying through a particularly nasty asteroid field.
It was her 'don't-mess-with-my-ship-or-my-dog' face.
"A catalyst," Eva repeated, her voice sharp, cutting through the ancient reverence of the Sanctuary.
"That's all well and good.
But while you've been waiting ten thousand cycles for a 'significant event' up here in your… Sanctuary of Respite, things have been changing.
Not just out here, but on worlds you've probably dismissed as insignificant. Worlds like Earth."
The Keepers' ancient eyes focused on her, a flicker of surprise in their otherwise stoic expressions.
"Bolt asked why Earth was different, why our dogs and cats mostly coexist," Eva continued, her gaze sweeping over them. "You said it was a 'faded echo,' that the conflict was 'diluted.' Well, that dilution is wearing thin.
Those war shadows you spoke of? They're starting to gloom over Earth now, Keepers."
I stiffened. What was she talking about?
"I've been picking up chatter on my less… official comm channels for months," Eva said, her voice tight.
"Underground dog-fighting rings escalating beyond anything seen before, with an unnatural, almost ritualistic ferocity.
Cats vanishing from neighborhoods, then turning up miles away, organized, aggressive, their eyes… different.
Off-street skirmishes that are more like coordinated battles. It's subtle, not yet on any official news feeds, but it's happening. The old 'Earth Anomaly' of peace? It's starting to fracture."
She took a step closer. "And it's not just an internal combustion, Keepers.
Earth is getting visitors. Quietly. Ships that don't file flight plans, slipping into remote areas. Ships whose energy signatures, when I've managed to get a faint trace, bear an uncomfortable resemblance to the ones we encountered out here.
From your galaxies."
The old Canid Keeper's brow furrowed.
"Visitors? Of our kind? On Earth?"
"Looks that way," Eva confirmed grimly.
"Which brings me to another point. Bolt mentioned the Progenitors. You spoke of them as galaxy-shapers.
Is it just a coincidence that Earth has its own ancient legends? Of gods who walked among us, often depicted with heads of… well, canids and felids?
Anubis, the jackal-headed guardian of the dead.
Bastet, the cat goddess, protector. Sekhmet, the lioness warrior. Are your Progenitors, or perhaps even your own distant ancestors, linked to those myths? Did they visit Earth long ago, leaving more than just a 'faded echo'?"
My mind reeled. Egyptian gods? Progenitors on Earth?
Eva wasn't done. "And this 'Last Bark of Orion' you seem so concerned about – is that legend playing out on Earth too, somehow?
Is that why it's becoming a new, subtle front in your ancient war?" She then turned her gaze to me, and her next words hit me like a physical blow.
"Which leads me to Bolt himself," she said, her voice softening slightly as she looked at me, but her eyes still held that fierce, questioning light as she turned back to the Keepers.
"How did he really come into this mess? I know Bolt thinks his… transformation, the experiment at that lab, was some Earth-bound project, a terrible accident of human ambition. He sees it as a coincidence on a cosmic level that he, a talking dog with ancestral memories of your galactic war, happened to be on my ship when we stumbled into your territory."
She paused, letting her words hang heavy.
"But I'm starting to think that 'accident' that happened to Bolt, the one that unlocked his unique abilities, wasn't just a coincidence at all. I think it was pre-mediated.
Orchestrated. Perhaps by your kind, or by factions who knew what he could become. Didn't you just call him a 'catalyst,' a 'Memory-Bearer' whose arrival was 'anticipated'?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Was Project Chimera one of your projects, Keepers, or influenced by those who serve you, to create the very catalyst you were waiting for?"
The air crackled. The Keepers were silent, their ancient faces unreadable, but I could feel a shift, a ripple of something – surprise? Consternation? Guilt? – emanating from them.
I stared at Eva, then at the Keepers. My neatly ordered, albeit bizarre, personal history – lab experiment, escape, meeting Eva – was suddenly being rewritten into something far grander, far more terrifying, and far less accidental. Pre-mediated? My creation, my being, a deliberate act in their cosmic game? The thought was a cold shard of ice in my gut.
"Why Bolt?" Eva pressed, her voice relentless.
"Why this husky from a supposedly insignificant planet? And if his coming here was anticipated, what exactly is his role in all this?"
The Keepers remained silent for another long moment, the weight of Eva's accusations and revelations settling around us like dust from a fallen star. The ball, it seemed, was very much in their ancient, robed court.