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The skies were bleak but beautiful, was what had been decided. Wars lasting millennia would not reach these sulfurous yellow skies, not when they turned pink at sun's rise, nor when they faded to burnt umber come dusk.

Settlers were busy all around their encampment, fetching supplies from ships, building the first homes of their colony on this untouched planet. Mothers were fretting over children as their eldest started fires, the wood structures all too similar to burning pyres. But many were smiling, a new hope kindled in their eyes while they worked.

Maign Somcato could not help but smile to herself as well. She had brought these people here on the promise of peace and security, and despite everything, they had arrived in one piece. Navigating through the nebula had been a complete nightmare, but in the end the only thing anyone lost was their lunch. Maign's own children, however, had been utterly thrilled by her horrendous flying, and the youngest even had the audacity to demand they do it again.

With a soft chuckle, Maign shook her head and returned to her task of keeping her husband and three children out of trouble. It would be far too soon if Aydler ever got his hands on the reserve rations again, lest he drop half of it somewhere mightily inconvenient. That memory was all too fresh in her mind, no matter how many years passed since the incident.

"Ah, ah," Maign tutted her middle child, Deo, as she carefully removed a delicate item from her grasp. "I'm afraid you're not quite old enough for that yet."

To her rescue from the entourage of tears came Aydler, speeding into the ship and scooping the child off her feet with a broadcast of silly noises. Deo giggled with delight at her father's antics, kicking at the air while he spun her.

Maign chuckled to herself as she watched them, turning the retrieved item over in her hands. It was warm, even after weeks without use, and it still sung when it was in her palm. The song was once a constant reminder of her place in the universe, but now it had changed. Now it hummed a child's rhyme, soft and gentle, rather than the old march it cried when she held it so firmly in her grasp. Gently, Maign set it down on the side, leaving it for a time when circumstances called for its use, and joined her husband in his games. Peace was no time for a weapon.

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