Shin's P.O.V
The M78 Nebula looks like a giant snowball from where I am now. It's soft white light reminds me of the snowballs that my daughter, Lalia, and I used to roll and fight with each other during winter. Often times I feigned a stumble and fell, and would later find myself on the receiving end of a snarky quip from my now deceased wife, Leanne, who was always quick to point out that I shouldn't let our daughter win all the time. I would just laugh and say it was only a one-time deal, that one day Lalia would want to play with her friends instead of us. Better let her have some time with her parents before we lost the chance, I used to say.

Those were the days, before Leanne started having the headaches.

They were so bad she often had to clutch her head with one hand while going about with the chores at home and minding our daughter. Foil strip after foil strip of painkillers found their way into the garbage bin in our room after being emptied of their contents, the smooth white tablets swallowed wet or dry in fluctuating quantities. She assured me it was nothing serious, that maybe having our daughter had just sapped her of some of her strength and it was only showing now. I did agree that Leanne hadn't exactly been at full strength after Lalia's delivery despite having had a long time to recover from the after effects and being relieved of her duties for awhile to let her rest up, but headaches sounded suspicious to me.

Then it came to a point where her temper became erratic and she started lashing out at me, then my parents and then Lalia, who barely understood a word a what had been yelled to her and had come to me crying in fear and confusion. I found Leanne clutching her head again and suggested a visit to the hospital, which she readily agreed to. Cue on an MRI scan and everything, what it revealed was the stuff of nightmares.

A brain eating amoeba.

The blob was huge, no joke. It would've covered my entire hand and my wrist with little effort if I had been holding it at the moment. Unfortunately, that thing had practically eaten away almost all of Leanne's brain and by some miracle, Lalia and I managed to spend one last night with her before she finally breathe her last and gave up the ghost.

That happened several decacycles ago.

I dab a tissue to my cheeks and it turns dark brown as it absorbs all the oily tears running down from my eyes and literally painting most of my face dark brown. The image of Leanne just lying down in bed, her skin so pale she could've been a ghost, has just burned itself into my head and it's as if I can't get rid of that memory no matter how hard I try. It seems like only yesterday we were strolling around Cluster City, taking in the sights with Lalia. We have so many memories of being together my heart hurts to handle her belongings sometimes. My parents, Logan and Lydia, tried to console me, knowing well I was taking this pretty hard. Lalia couldn't exactly comprehend much, but it didn't take another parent to know she was hurting as well. She lost her appetite, then her usual cheery self and finally her energy.

And to make matters worse, my slimeball of a boss fired me for taking leave without reason when I had clearly stated that my wife was unwell and I had to look after her.

I had managed to find a job elsewhere, that is, transporting monsters from their wrecked prison planet to a new one somewhere in the outskirts of the Andromeda Galaxy. I was kind of reluctant to take the job but decided to anyway. Just because I was grieving didn't mean money wasn't a constant worry, and seeing as Lalia was in dire need of therapy now that her depression had gotten worse, yeah well, I had to do what I had to do.

Besides, my new boss was pretty lax about his employees taking leave if it was for a reason, so that was kinda comforting to say the least.

Monsters are definitely not my cup of tea. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a xenophobe, but sometimes too much strange isn't easy to comprehend either, and these monsters are no picnic unless you happen to be a diehard fan of strange critters. These monsters supposedly existed long before our race came into existence, and that their strangeness was because they had adapted to a myriad of environments over the years.

Or they were just created by some deranged god or goddess, as some cynics say.

A low growl emanated from the lower decks and I switched the settings to autopilot before heading down to the source of the noise. In what was supposed to be a space for cargo is a giant cage made entirely out of a recycled Specium alloy, Specium being the metal that makes up the material Ultras are made from, and in the cage was the giant curled up reptilian shape of Bemular.

I made it a point to keep my footsteps as soundless as possible so Bemular wouldn't wake up. The bastard had a reputation for going nuts even at the slightest sounds like footsteps or pipes creaking, perhaps because he had a brain injury that was slowly but surely eating away at most of his sanity. My new boss had assured me that he was fully restrained in the cage with a shock collar and powerful sedatives administered in adequate doses that he wouldn't have breathing problems or be dehydrated, the latter of which was taken care of via intravenous infusion therapy, so transporting him wouldn't be difficult. I was starting to doubt the truth of that though, because the closer I got, the better I could hear his words in my head.

Rip...tear...kill... was what I heard in a tone that had become gravelly with age and was laced with enough poison to kill. Rip...tear...kill...crush...mangle...

A shiver ran down my spinal fin and I decided to call it a day. Scrambling back to the upper decks, I made my way to the captain's quarters and sat down on the silvery bunk, letting my body sink into the white mattress and sheets and pulling the duvet around me, curling up for the night...

Before I found myself tossing, turning and desperately trying to bury myself into the sheets and blanket. Deep space had a temperature colder than dry ice, enough to give one freezer burn if they stuck their hand into it. Ultras, by nature, usually are weather tolerant, but most of us prefer warm to cold weather, and unfortunately I'm not in the cold-weather category so anything lower than regular snow isn't going to kill me but it leaves me bone-stiff nonetheless. I got up reluctantly and dug around in the bureau in the end of the room for something-an extra blanket, a throw cover, maybe even a spare sheet?-to wrap myself up in and keep out the blasted cold that I might actually get some sleep for once. After a few minutes I pulled out a red bedrobe that despite being extremely dusty was ironically still in good condition, with no holes or any other signs of damage save for a few threads poking out here and there. I debated putting it on for a few minutes (because it was dusty and everything), then decided it'd be better to deal with itchy skin rather than a stifling flu and slipped it on, notching the sash into a flat but secure knot. It felt strangely comforting, almost like a warm hug, and soon my skin stopped shivering and begin to warm up. This time, satisfied, I picked up my tablet from the rustic nightstand nearby and unlocked it, tapping the 'Phone' icon and scrolling through the list of numbers before coming to one that read 'Daddy's Little Princess'.

Leanne would laugh her ass off if she saw this now, I thought, tapping on the number and waiting for the receiver to answer. Leanne never usually referred to Lalia as 'princess', preferring to go with basic terms of endearment for all genders like 'dear', 'dear-heart', 'darling', 'love', 'pet' or 'mush'. The last one made me laugh sometimes, in part because it sounded like the culinary sense of 'mush' and because Leanne was adamant to use gender-specific endearment terms. For her, we were all asexual in a few ways, and so there was no such thing as gender-specific stuff.

And to think that my parents would be laughing their asses off if they heard me say it.

The screen went from a black mirror to showing the image of a young Ultragirl lying against a purple pillow with a red teddy clutched in her left arm. She wore a soft purple nightdress that had red polka dots all over it and short and puffy princess sleeves. On the left side of her head was a white crystal barrette shaped like a carnation.

Lalia. Ultragirl Lalia. That was her name. The name her now deceased mother and I had given her the day she first opened her beautiful eyes.

"Daddy"! she squealed, hugging her teddy bear, Mr. Strawberry, close to her chest and she held her tablet up to her face.

Hi I signed back, feeling warmth seep into me at the sound of her voice. How's daddy's little princess doing back home?

"It's awesome"! she squeaked, an extra squeal-y note hinting the satisfaction she had using her favourite word. "Grandma and Grandpa took me to the beach today. We went swimming first, then we built sandcastles! And after that, Grandpa took me crabbing"!

Crabbing? That sounds fun! I signed again, trying to sound cheerful despite the stabbing pain in my chest. Did you guys get a big one?

"Even better! We got a mama and her babies"! Lalia announced proudly before lowering her voice to a whisper. "You wanna see 'em, dad"?

I nodded and she redirected the screen to a large aquarium of the sort big pet fish such as arowanas and multiple pet fish are kept in that was currently half-filled, had its filter running, had been decorated with frames of purple coral and green kelp and was now abuzz with activity as several tiny crab zoa the size of peas scuttled around, occasionally reaching out to take pot shots (or should I say pot pinches)? at a pebble or one of their siblings. Nearby, nibbling on a piece of cabbage, was a larger crab with a murky grey carapace, blue legs and white pincers keeping a watch on the zoa scuttling about, her mandibles clicking ominously as each one of them moved about.

That's a fine looking mama crab I answered at length. And her babies are pretty feisty too.

"I know, right"? Lalia answered, redirecting the screen towards herself. "She's got about eight babies in total, so we're calling them One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven and Eight. As for Mama Crab...well, her real name is 'Sandy', but I really do like calling her 'Mama' or 'Mama Crabby'".

I raised a eyebrow there.

"Y'know, because she's a Mama and mamas always take good care of their babies", she explained, grinning cheekily. "Besides, it sounds good because...well, just because".

I laughed softly to myself there. Lalia had a knack for coming up with imaginative names for any random animal she came across. And if naming our pet dog 'Bubbles' was anything I'dve probably laughed myself to death right there and then.

Anyway, how're you guys holding up back home? I asked her.

"Grandpa's asleep now, but Grandma's awake", Lalia murmured, glancing over her shoulder awhile before turning back to the screen. "And Bubbles is having a late-night snack before she goes to bed. She pines for you every morning now. She really misses you".

At the mention of that, the sadness weighing down on my chest felt heavier and I blinked back tears furiously, not wanting to let Lalia see me crying because it would worry her too much. I had been so absorbed in my work that I had more or less forgotten about my family back home. Lalia in particular missed me. She knew why I kept burying myself in my work. She knew that very well, and that was why she wanted me to stop.

Stop, take a breath, and come home so we could be a family again.

"When are you coming home, dad"? Lalia asked me, her blue eyes dilating to the size of giant blueberries. "Is it still 'busy as ever' out there? Grandma did say dealing with monsters meant asking for trouble".

Don't worry hun I assured her. The monsters aren't out looking for trouble at all. They just want a new home and now they're scared because they don't know if they'll ever find a new home.

"I see", Lalia mewed in reply. Then she shifted onto her side, getting ready to go to bed. "Goodnight dad".

Goodnight sweetheart I answered, and the screen went black.

I yawned and pendiculated on the bed, sighing in relief as my sore muscles eased out and loosened. Then I lay back down and pulled the blanket up to my neck, hoping to get at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before hitting another twelve hours of work the next day...

KBAM!

A loud bang, like a hammer striking a metal plate, woke me just as I was about to drift off. I was jolted out of my near-slumber as another bang resonated, this time louder.

KBAM!

Goddamn punk-asses I grumbled internally, shuffling out of bed and clomping down the corridor to Bemular's chamber, where he was still sleeping soundly. I checked the machines keeping his body supplied with sedatives and saline.

Nothing. They were still operating.

Then what was causing all that banging?

The loud shredding of metal being torn was my answer, and no sooner had I looked away from Bemular's cage did something I couldn't see took a huge chunk out of my ship from the outside, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. I scrambled to the cockpit and found the radar beeping, indicating a threat nearby.

But the visuals weren't showing anything!

An invisible intruder? I thought as I punched in two emergency codes; one to activate an escape pod and launch it into the planetoid below and another to eject Bemular's cage into deep space, where any Space Rangers going about with their rounds would pick him up and send him back to the Land Of Light to be kept in stasis until he could be relocated safely.

Bemular's growling filled the whole ship along with the sounds of solid metal being torn and klaxon alarms blaring their warning screech. I made a mad dash for an escape pod in the lower decks and climbed into the first one I found, the hatch closed and the cool feeling of breathable air filled the space before I felt a sense of weightlessness, which meant the pod had been ejected.

Destination? The pod's A.I. asked me, and with baited breath, I keyed in my answer.

Earth.

I had no idea why I had picked that planet. Maybe because I felt it was safer? Or maybe on some instinct that said it was safe? Whatever it was, it was too late to back off now.

Lalia, please hang on, I whispered to myself quietly as I felt the pod descend into the blue planet below.