• • Sunset: Heroes of the Milky Way
• May 10, 2025

Sunset: Heroes of the Milky Way (Chapter 19)

Alloya Ra’non  

Not Much for Parties

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It used to be easy to get lost in the crowd. Whenever I feel myself being overwhelmed by people I shouldn’t punch and questions I don’t want to answer, I could just excuse myself and disappear in the crowd. People would look for me, but they wouldn’t find me. It allowed me to find someone else to chat with.

Can’t do that here where everyone’s two feet shorter than me. I tower over every crowd, trapped between their questions. 

“Captain, are you enjoying your stay?”

“Captain, have you been to the marina yet?”

“Captain, are staying to watch the Tourney?”

“Captain?” 

“Captain?”

“Captain?!”

“Yes!” I yell in response, after being snapped out of my daze. I startle other guests around me. They all trade looks between each other. I’m sure they knew I wasn’t paying attention but to make it so obvious? That’s just downright unprofessional. 

As they start to walk away from me, I take notice again that they are all Riverti Rivertans, dressed in their nice suits and pretty dresses. Looking at their fashion, at least when it comes to parties, they don’t dress that differently from Regamorphs. Albeit, they show off more skin, men and women, but I supposed it makes sense considering their amphibians. 

The Riverti do wear a lot more orange and blue though… too much orange and blue if I ask Aleti.

So far for me, this whole party has been a bust. Unlike Regamorphs, when Rivertan officials throw a party they actually want to party. We usually just come to taunt, flaunt, and intimidate each other; you know, ulterior motives. These people just want to have fun, which I guess is understandable, but also a pain in my ass. 

I don’t recognize anyone besides Aleti and Terra’rork, who seem to be having their own conversations. I try to hone in on Aleti’s, to listen to her say, “I’ve always wanted to see the Ruleden! Are you excited to see anyone compete?” 

That’s my girl, or maybe not…. 

That would imply that she got her conversational skills from me, when really she is just showing me up to anyone who would know. 

Maybe Terra’s having the same trouble as I am. I start to listen in to his conversation. 

Some woman asks him, “I’ve always meant to take up an interest in Guardians. They had a class about them in my college, but they don’t teach anything about the current ones. You should come here more often! Give us something to talk about!”

“Well, we don’t necessarily pick when or where people need our help,” Terra answers. So I’m not alone in mission failure. Then he continues, “But also, it’s probably better that you don’t know so much about us. That puts us in danger, but more importantly…”

“More importantly what?” another guest asks.

With surprise enthusiasm Terra tells them, “That ruins the mystery! I mean you say that you want know more about us, but when you meet your hero you tend to learn that we’re just like you, and isn’t the illusion of grandeur, and spectacle, just more interesting? Do you really want to know that I’m chewing on seaweed when I drive the Rango? It’d make me sound like any boat captain.”

He gets a chuckle and a laugh from the group surrounding him, more than I could get.

One does seem a bit flustered. “It’s common knowledge what our Guardian does. Prime Minister Lamberine months ago, instituted that the news outlets and journalists be allowed to treat him like any celebrity. I mean, what if he does something wrong? When your captain screws up, no one hears about it, and with all the power she’s got, don’t you want something like the press to let you know? Nobody needs another mad Raygus on the loose.”

“Oh, I remember ole’ mad Raygus, ” Terra lies. Raygus was a Guardian before his time, to this Rivertan, all Techanots must be immortal with how much longer they live. “What do these news outlets and journalists say? If you don’t mind telling me, I can’t read your language, only speak it.”

I stop listening after that. 

Damn it, Terra is getting his job done too. I sigh to myself and facepalm. I bet they’ll find it very funny how I’ve learned nothing important after how I pestered them earlier.

“Are you alright, my Captain?” 

I do my best not to jump after letting someone get the jump on me, but the best way to do that is to slowly turn my head ahead. Now, it looks like I forgot about the height difference, insult to injury with how short everyone is.

I did not forget.

Clay once told me, speak of the devil and he will come. A bit weird though, since you actually want demons to come but Humans are weird. Even if I believed in that stuff it would be creepy to see Prime Minister Lamberine talking to me, dressed in a white and incredibly loose fitting outfit. 

Then again, this is a golden opportunity.

Errr, I hear a voice in the back of my head. Had to be Rega. That’s strange considering Terra is in the same room. Albeit, he’s still easily many yards away, but still, she must be trying hard to talk to me. 

I’ll take that as a warning.

“Yes, Prime Minister, I’m a little embarrassed that the people I was talking to realized that I wasn’t really listening,” I admit to him. 

He chuckles as I hoped he would. I believe this man to be corrupt, but in my experience corrupt men can have a wicked sense of humor.

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel so bad. I do the same thing and it’s supposed to be job to listen to them.” I confess, I do chuckle too. “People think they have interesting things to say when they really don’t.”  

Interesting thing to come out of the mouth of the people’s leader. “I was asked if I tried the fruity ice at the dessert table, and when I said no, he told me I should try it. Even after saying ‘I’m good,’ I was apparently being a stick in the mud.” 

Lamberine laughs some more. “Ah, people are ridiculous, but still, we do our jobs so they can be ridiculous, don’t we?” When he matches my gaze I don’t see the eyes of a down earth soul.

“That we do,” I try to answer comically. “It’d be a shame if everyone weren’t free to be stupid.” 

“Yes, yes it would,” he agrees, as he his eyes losing their grip on mine, “but you Guardians aren’t exactly free to do anything you want, are you?”

I look forward back at the crowd. “Now what could you possibly mean by that?”

I hear the classic ‘hmph,’ sound that goes along with a short but condescending smirk. “I mean that Guardians are slaves to their people, or at least good ones are.” 

I grimace, considering that I’m probably not welcome on my planet right now, and most of the members of my team have had no communication with their people either. 

“Young Wombinal, he’s a good Guardian. We taught him how to be so good.” My lip twitches when he says that. Is he implying something to mess with me? Then Lamberine turns to me, with a curious expression on his face. I don’t turn my face, only my eyes. 

“I don’t know about you Captain, but as a good Guardian, Wombinal lives and dies by the will of his people, and I represent that will, don’t I?” Now I realize where this is going. “The Prime Minister is the voice of his people, the elected will, so I supposed Womby lives and dies by my will now. He used to live by yourse once upon a time”

I slowly turn to face Lamberine, and get a good look at the old crone’s devil smile. As cold as ice, I threaten him, “If you hurt him-”

He interrupts me though. “Wombinal is mine Captain, and don’t forget it. Enjoy the time with him that I allow, I suspect this will be your last visit to Riverteria.” 

It takes everything in my power not to crush his head in my hands. If anyone is looking at us, and I’m sure someone is, they can see the anger boiling in my face, and Lamberine’s snide smile. 

Slowly, I warn him, “Don’t be so sure.” 

Though confident in his verbal victory he turns to walk off, but I say one more thing. 

“You say you’re the will of your people, but what happens when your people want you gone?”

He scoffs before replying, “When that happens I wake up, and try to go back to sleep.”

Aleti Ra’non

 “Wombinal? The Guardian’s going to compete in the Tourney?” I ask the man again, don’t remember his name. I try to maintain my curious smile but really I’m screaming inside. 

Womby is competing in the tournament? How is that not considered cheating? 

I thought that wasn’t allowed, or at least on the principle of fairness the Guardian refuses to compete. Also, these guys are Riverti, the darker kind of Rivertan, why would they be excited to see the Guardian beat their own side? 

I take a swing of the soda that I grabbed before I entered this dreadful cliche of rich snobs. I can’t tell if they’re young or old though. Admittedly, that’s something I should have taken time to research at some point. 

“Yes! I’m excited to see what he can do in the physical challenge, aren’t we all?” he says as he looks around to the other Riverti who nod in agreement. When he smiles the stress lines across his forward are so prominent I think it’s his most defining feature.

A Riverti woman who, to avoid my own confusion, I’ll call Beta, says, “Have you heard about his competition? Some monster named Rom, no relation.”

I confusedly reply, “Rom?” 

“I thought Wombinal was competing in the Endurance challenge?” another woman, who’ll be nicknamed Rude, suggest. 

Beta realizes her mistake.“Oh, that does make more sense I guess, we’ll see soon anyway.” 

“Um, who’s Rom?” I ask the group, who all look at me like I have two heads. “Not the old Guardian, the new guy, the new Rom.

I get a few understanding nods before a man, who I’ll now think of as Shorty, apologizes, “Oh, our mistake, we forgot you’re new, just so fun talking to you.” Feeling not returned. “Rom is this brute for the Watree. They say they’ve been conducting some eugenic experiment to breed the ultimate warrior for the battle challenge.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that he’s the product of selective breeding and food rations. Apparently six feet tall! So whoever’s fighting him might as well give up.” 

I also realize something strange. “I don’t mean to backtrack,” I interrupt, “but isn’t Womby a Watree? How would a Watree compete against another Watree?”

Rude scoffs, and tells me, “Why he’s competing for us, of course, there’s no rule that says a Watree cannot compete for a Riverti, or vice versa, but regardless, he’s only half Watree, we can forgive him for that. He may look like an underbelly, but he has proven to be quite civilized at heart.”

So let me get this all straight. Wombinal, the Guardian, is allowed to compete in the Tourney and is doing so for the Riverti in the Endurance challenge, so he’ll probably win. Rom is competing in the Battle challenge, and he’s probably going to win. So the Ruleden is going to be a tie? That doesn’t make much sense.

“Isn’t there a third challenge? Sounds like you risk a tie.

They all begin laughing at my confusion. 

Shorty starts to assure me that, “Miss Ra’non, why would we have an even number of challenges? There’s also the Mental challenge, and no Watree can win that.”

“I guess not.” They yammer on about the Tourney, but I just wonder… 

The Watree have apparently put so much energy into this Rom guy to win the Battle challenge, but they have not done the same for anything else. What’s the point of winning one challenge if you can’t win the overall competition?

Then I have an idea. I ask my party companions, “Are there rules against non-Rivertans competing in the Tourney?”

Rude answers me, “Of course, it’s the one thing the Watree wouldn’t put up with-”

“Understandably,” Beta interrupts to add.

Rude continues, “Yes, they understandably didn’t like it when we wanted to keep entering Leonards as our contestant for the Battle challenges. Apparently seeing their challenger get ripped apart was too gruesome for children, though who lets children watch the Battle challenge anyway.”         

Crap. I rub my chin as I comment, “This Battle challenge sounds more like a Battle to the death.”

“Well the only death was the one year we entered an animal. Since then there has been a clear rule of only Rivertans. This was also clarified to exclude aliens, didn’t want it to seem too unfair for the Watree.”

“One more question about the Tourney?” I playfully ask the group. “When the hell is it? We don’t exactly get your internet on the Rango.”

Rude looks at me like I’m an idiot, and says, “Why, it’s next week.”