The sun was dipping below the horizon as Agra waved the human survivors of the Orion into an icicle draped crevice in a half buried gray stone outcrop. They had followed her down a snow filled crater into a small outcrop of black volcanic rock. Ducking down into the large tunnel the group descended into the earth. Snow and ice lined the dimly lit walls. Glow in the dark accents on the human suits illuminated the rock walls in pale green light.

  “Oh that’s neat,” Agra commented behind them.

  “Can you see in the dark Agra?” Liz asked preparing to make a mental note in her mind. It was assumed the Syn saw very well in the dark, but it would be nice to finally have confirmation.

  “Quite well,” Agra replied proudly. The tunnel began to slope back up and into a narrow passage blocked by a curtain of the same white material Agra wore. Liz had begun to suspect it was old parachute material. Agra passed them up and pushed the curtain aside to reveal a circular cavern filled with all sort of odds and ends. “Welcome to my home!” Agra chirped with a cheerful wave of her hand.

  As the humans filed in, they studied every aspect of the room. The dim glow of twilight filtered in through a skylight in the craggy roof. Rusted metal plates lined the floor and a fire pit made from what must have been an inverted escape pod thruster nozzle was balanced atop rocks in the center of the room. Piles of the rust red plant matter were propped up against the walls. Liz was the first to pick some up.

  “Do you eat this Agra?” She asked.

  “Oh no,” Agra said grabbing a mass of it herself and throwing it into the thruster cone firepit. “I burn it.” Agra then hurried to a rocky shelf in the wall behind her and grabbed what looked like a plasma pistol with the barrel smashed off and pushed it into the red wood. With the accelerator coil removed the pistol sparked weakly but adequately. In mere moments there was a roaring fire in the center of the room.

  “Make yourself at home I’m going to whip us up some stew. Let me get what I need. I’ll be back soon,” Agra said ducking into another passage leading deeper into the earth. Jakob had plopped himself in front of the fire, flames flickering in his eyes. He could appreciate the warmth at least. Liz was watching him and the fire when Taylor returned with something in his hands.

  “Check out this old school data pad,” he said revealing an opaque glass tablet in his hands. A deep crack ran down the middle and the corners were chipped.

  “Huh I wonder if,” Liz said as she swiped along the bottom. The device powered on. Agra had managed to keep it fully charged with a crude solar charger kept folded in the corner of the cave.

  “Woah look at those dates,” Taylor said craning his neck to get a look. Liz passed it towards him and together they searched the file directory. Most were very old holographic log files. The date stamps scrolling by went back two decades, the oldest entry dating back 23 years during the first chaotic year after first contact with the Syncline. The treaty which ended the brutal Colonial Wars and formed SMCAF hadn’t even been ratified yet.

  “About a decade before we lost Earth,” Liz said rubbing her chin. She had already noticed that the log in credentials displayed at the top of the chipped screen read Greg Anson. This data pad belonged to Agra’s adoptive father. She opened the oldest entry and pressed play on holographic video file within it.

  A man flickered into view in the air above them. The little hologram showed a man in his mid-twenties wearing a blue pre-SMCAF Western Sphere Alliance uniform. He appeared to have been filming himself in a cramped starship cabin.

  “Hey honey just thought I’d make a little video to send over the DSN for you and the baby. Our tour of this quadrant has been uneventful so far. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. I wish I was in the thick of things like Marco. We heard about the destruction of the Cygnus colony a few days ago and are waiting for the orders to join the expeditionary force,” Anson went on.

  Liz exited out of the video file. Not particularly relevant to what she wanted to know. She scanned the file dates and stopped at a video made after an odd weeklong hiatus. The Greg Anson that flickered into being was unwashed and disheveled. He wore a stained older model survival suit and was sitting in a cave. The first couple seconds were of him silently scratching at the stumble growing on his face. After a moment he seemed to acknowledge them.

  “Hello. I scavenged what I needed to charge up this damn thing because I needed a mirror, but I guess I might as well record what has happened.” Anson said frowning. “I am the sole survivor of the WSA Eureka.”

  Just saying that out loud caused Anson to choke up. He continued teary eyed.

  “The WSA Eureka was lost in battle with a lone Syncline ship. The design was not in the database and it shouldn’t have been here. They boarded us and it was a slaughter. I still don’t know what happened but an explosion, probably the reactor core going critical, tore through my ship and crippled the Syncline one. What was left of it became caught in the gravity well of this planet and reentered the atmosphere. My pod was the only one to survive the explosion and reentry intact. I have buried too many bodies. Those Syncline bastards were just as unlucky. The wreckage of their ship is scattered over several square kilometers. Not a living soul in sight. It’s a tomb now.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Liz and Taylor watched with interest as Anson acknowledged something scratching at his leg.

  “Just a moment you little aggravation I’m getting to you,” he said waggling a finger. His gaze returned to the camera.

  “I found something deep in the Syncline wreck. It was an egg. Damned thing hatched while I was staring at it. I tried killing it but just couldn’t do it. Maybe I’ll raise it as a pet. It’s not like I will have anything better to do seeing as I’ll never be getting off this rock. A pet project if you will,” Anson finished with a chuckle. He reached down and pulled up a squirming creature by the nape of its neck. Liz had never seen an infant Syn before. No one had. It appeared quadruped, a fuzzy ball of red down with gangly limbs jutting from its little body. It hissed at the camera with its beaked jaws. Taylor recognized Agra’s brilliant Amber eyes. “As you can see it has been quite the aggravation,” Anson chuckled again. The video ended with Agra snapping at the hand holding the data pad. The camera angle spun around into darkness as the data pad presumably fell to the ground. The recording ended.

  By now Jakob had gotten up to see what the fuss was all about. Together the three scrolled a couple entries down and pressed play. Anson was back though it appeared he had long since given up on shaving. He had a full brown beard and long locks of greasy hair had begun to cascade down his head. He was draped in layers of parachute canvas to supplement the drained battery of his survival suit.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” He began excitedly. He reached for something out of view and lifted the young Syn up into frame. It had visibly doubled in size. Now he cradled it like an infant “Come on do what you just did.”

  “Agra! Aggravation!” the little thing squeaked proudly. It turned it head up towards Anson with loving eyes. “I can’t believe it,” Anson said in obvious shock. “Agra here must be one of the smart Syn we haven’t been able to find, the leadership. I found a weird body skewered to a throne in the wreck right before I found Agra. It had the same red feathers. Red not black! I wonder what that means. This is incredible. If only I could tell someone!”

  Liz quickly scrolled down to the next video made months later.

  “Winter on this ice ball sucks. I think the atmosphere may have frozen. Solar panels didn’t work for months,” Anson grumbled. Another voice then cut in. “Father who are you talking too?” the soft hollow sounding voice asked. Anson gestured at something off frame. Agra, now the size of a toddler bounded on two legs into frame and hopped up in his lap.

  “Is that me?” she asked with wide eyed amazement.

  “Yes, it is. This is a holographic recorder. I can use it to save moments from the past for the future. Do you understand?”

  Agra shook her head in confirmation. Anson turned toward the camera and smiled. “Agra is now eight months old and has already outperformed any human child. I’ve been teaching her English and have begun instructing her in basic mathematics!” For a moment Anson seemed downtrodden. “Honey,I hope you and the baby are doing ok. I wish I could be there for you. I’ve decided to raise Agra as if she was my own. Anything to feel like a father again will keep me sane. I can’t stand to be apart from you any longer.

  “Papa I’m hungry,” Agra complained as Anson followed her out of frame. After a few moments of silence Liz exited the video file.

  As the group stared at the onscreen menu Agra returned with a metal pot filled with snow under her arms. Seeing them with the data pad caused a flash of visible anger in her eyes.

  “Agra we were just curious,” Liz said as she powered down the device. Agra knew they had seen the moving pictures, the ones she had watched over and over. She didn’t know what to think or say. It felt as if they had invaded something special. She sighed.

  “It’s ok. My father didn’t make those videos for me. He made them for others so they could understand,” Agra said as she placed the pot on the fire. She stood hunched over the pot stirring the slowly melting ice with a metal rod silently. “He was certain others would come for us eventually.”

  “Where is he? What happened to Greg Anson?” Taylor asked. Agra stared into the pot of water with sad eyes. “He died years ago. He became sick and tired. Look for yourself.”

  Liz stared at the tablet hesitantly and found the last video made three years earlier. The Greg Anson in this video was gaunt and sickly forty-year-old languishing in a bed of white parachute fabric and downy red feathers presumably provided by Agra.

  “I fear this may be my last entry. I no longer have the strength to bother charging this thing. The past twenty years have been tough as you can see,” Anson said choking on a cough that left blood trickling down his lips. “I’ve recorded as much of my time here as I could. It’s up to whoever finds my logs to pass on what I’ve learned about our enemy. If Agra’s strength and intelligence is indicative of her race, then god help us all. Seeing Agra grow has fed my worst nightmares. Maybe the reason why we have never been rescued is because the human race is already dead. It is her kindness and capacity for good that fills me with hope. The Syncline are not inherently evil. That has been my greatest discovery. I’m so proud of her and I hope one day someone rescues her from this frozen hell before it’s too late,” Anson finished. He began to sob, and the video cut out.

  Agra was the one who plucked the tablet from Liz’s hand. “You never had anything to fear Father,” Agra said reflexively. She took the tablet and placed it with reverence back on the rocky alcove it had come from.

  “You’ve been alone for three years? No wonder you were glad to see me.” Taylor finally said. Liz went to help Agra stir the pot and Jakob returned to the fireside. He kept his distance from Agra as he crossed his arms and tried to process what had happened. All he knew for certain as he stared into the flames was that Greg Anson had never gotten off the planet. Would they?