It had been so long since the Vocorr had taken control over the freedoms that the Galaxy had, that very few people remembered or even knew that life had been any other way. But there were some who kept that knowledge rolling, from world to world, explaining how and why things were the way they were... And how it could be changed.

They were met with a variety of responses, from attacks to welcome arms. Some of the world where they knew Vocorr had only just touched didn't understand: why would these people prevent music of all things? It was what kept people happy, it communicated over distance and time, it united them.

All that and more, was the answer. A dejected group of rebels could become a mob aflame with passion if they had the right music to guide them. Memories of ancient ways could be reignited, or worse - rebuilt.

Some of those who knew the truths behind the Vocorr were quite old. Beings whose lifespans had been artificially enhanced, or were simply just so long-lived as to appear nearly immortal to other species. And some, were precious indeed: telepaths and psionics who had been outlawed generations before.

With the hope that music could bring, it was considered too dangerous by the current Galactic Federation leaders. They too were old - some were old enough to know the truth too. There were certainly dissenting voices among the Federation's 'primes', but they were few and far between, and not reliable enough to help out when they were truly needed.

Some hoped that it was merely a matter of time, before things went back to 'normal'. But 'normal' had been thus for nearly three generations, and before then in a state of chaos from the Federation's war with other worlds. Those worlds were often used as examples of what would happen to newly contacted planets, if they disobeyed.

Not one of them supports life, today.

***

"We've got all the appropriate permits." Ija-Djon said, and her skinny, Maxtan friend agreed.

"Lots of people live onboard their ships these days," Brantian said. "There's still no law against it."

"Or against colorful paint jobs and obscure languages... I don't even know what it says." Ija lied quite easily. "I mean, it could say 'you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny' in someone's script!"

Even the Vocorr cops chuckled at that one. "Well... all right, fine, it's just that we can see it from the station and don't like the looks of it."

Brantian took in a breath, then nodded. "Well, we can cover it up if it makes you uncomfortable. But thank you for your concern over our good vessel."

The Vocorr agents who had been sent to investigate the pair - again - found nothing - again - and got into their same argument. Music was not allowed. Period. The painted-on notes that were displayed on the side of their aging ship notwithstanding, music was not allowed. It qualified... sort of.

But according to these two, it was not 'like that'. Well it was like that, and there would be hell to pay if they were ever actually caught with an instrument in their hands.

That wouldn't happen so long as they also had Ija's potent psionics on their side. She blotted out any visual or physical notice of the extensive collection of wares that decorated the pair's ship, though it had already been slung with netting and canvas and pictures to distract from the shapes. Ija's keyboard posed as a small lamp table, Brantian's crestone balanced awkwardly on a shelf and supported several small potted plants. There were plenty of other such things dotting the ship, belonging to the others.

The others, who were just barely able to avoid the Vocorr pair as they left the ship's dock.

"That had to have been close," Morrel said, his breathing sacs vibrating with worry. He and the others brought in supplies, food and sundries - nothing illegal this time. Last time, there had been raw gemstones and cast-off dragonskin, both difficult at best to explain to port authorities, particularly not when you didn't have a bill of sale.

The pair helped their friends load the pallet of supplies into the ship's cargo area, and then met up in the main deck.

"It's getting harder to hide, and sooner or later they'll catch on," Brantian said, fiddling with a splinter he'd gotten from one of the boxes.

"Or," Ija pointed out wisely, "they'll just change the law to include musical script. Thankfully they don't know all the different scripts, it's a good thing we still have a few up our sleeve for communication."

She glanced back at the array of data-pads, books and volumes of sheet music stored in inconspicuous folders on their shelves. The wide variety of musical notation that had been available through the galaxy long before were often used by rebels and resistance groups to communicate in code that even the Vocorr didn't understand. The notes painted on their ship were among those that were new - from a world called Earth, where they'd been hearing music still dominated many parts of the lives of people there. That wouldn't last. It never lasted.

Galactirock, or 'Grock' as the ship was officially titled to avoid any Vocorr investigations, was almost always at the site of new planet discoveries. They had to be. They searched endlessly along the radio and communication waves for signs of it.

The galaxy was filled with life, civilizations that grew from their primordial slime and developed technology, finally reaching out to the universe to say 'hello here we are, look at us!' ... And of late, that would mean instant Federation access. If.

If they chose.

"Well we've come so far," Sideshow grunted, sniffling at a drink, "there's only a few stops before we reach Earth, and their beacon is clear as anything."

"It can't be hard for the Federation to pick up on it, even though they're using older signal wave technology," Coelestaad said, "I know they keep scanning for it."

"I think they have yet to decide about contact," Morrel said, preferring not to sit on a chair like the other bipeds, since his tail would get in the way. "They've sent scouting parties, and you know that can only mean they're planning on a full Contact move soon."

"Then we need to act fast," Arick said, his fingers, though tired from all the lifting and prying open of crates earlier, still drummed out patterns at their table. "Besides if Vocorr keeps knocking at our door, some day I'm gonna be the one opening it, and you know how that will turn out..."

They laughed, though not heartily. It was truth: Arick and his sister were already wanted on a variety of charges, as was Sideshow. The only reason they hadn't been picked up today was luck, and their contacts liked them enough that they didn't feel like turning the group in for their reward.

So Morrel decided that in the morning they'd be on their way again, to one of the last outposts in this sector. It was a little more dangerous there, because it was primarily inhabited by Vocorr support teams. Their next stop after, would be Earth.

***

Grock didn't actually make it to that outpost - they lifted off safely and delivered fake destination information (knowing that it never, ever was followed up on, not even in a court investigation) and headed out opposite the way they said they'd be going. Arick and Coelestaad took turns at the scanner, as always panning back and forth through the radio frequencies and Vocorr channels to detect anything of importance. Since they were flying so close to a Federation outpost, they couldn't broadcast anything themselves. Besides, there was pretty much no one to broadcast to, out here.

Though every star and system were plotted out - technically - nowhere near all of them were actually investigated. Some proved to be lifeless, binary stars with burning gas giants, small sickly stars in their infancy or old age with burnt out or hardly formed rocks circling them. But some... some had a delicate balance of rock, ice, gas and stardust in the right combination to support life.

Since they were heading toward it anyway, the pair instantly picked up on Federation chatter. "They've found something..." Coelestaad said, trying to concentrate while two of her hands typed in a command to broadcast it over the ship's speaker system.

"-- eight of them, and they're a small sample. Abberant population is very large, will advice upon arrival. On the way to Kamok three."

"They've got ... they're already starting to arrest people?" Ija said, shocked. She stood in the narrow doorway to the communication room, and Coel nodded.

"Apparently, they have eight. But the ship's right there," she tossed her blue-haired head toward the monitor which had visual confirmation, "we can intecept."

Sideshow gave a grunt of approval. "About time, and we can see what this Earth's got going for it."

From another part of the ship, Morrel said over the intercom, "got it, get your gear up. Ija, get a feel for our targets please, and let's do this."

The eight were musicians, and the Galactirock's crew could hardly be happier. Ija psionically pinged them, they were not hard to find. In fact they were brilliant in her mental vision. Such strong musical talent, such strong will. They participated equally in their escape - it wasn't just this space ship worth of pirates versus a bunch of black and blue clad Vocorr. It was pirates and music.

"So you're Humans," Morrel said, nodding and appraising them with far less shock than they showed toward him. Though the Vocorr enlisted many different species for their ranks, anyone who could fit in a basic two-meter-tall bipedal suit was more in demand than a squat amphib with gillsacks and added extras like him. So the Earthlings' exposure to Vocorr was a little more painless than seeing for the first time, real honest to goodness aliens.

"Why do you speak English?" one of them asked, but it was on all their minds. Ija chuckled and gave up her secret: one of the things she was guilty of was psionically altering their brains to understand and translate. That she did this without asking only bothered one of them, the redhead, but they all had to admit that it had a very good use.

These 'Solos' as they called themselves, were thrilled also to have the subdermal implants for long distance communication that were offered. New instruments to explore, comparisons to be made... Songs to be sung. And a location to be found, where they could be safe.

"I know just the place," Arick said. He always sounded a bit groggy, but that was because he always was a bit groggy. "Remember that black asteroid field?"

Morrel nodded, and gave a very Human grin. "I do, the acoustics there are incredible."

***

It was more than just an asteroid field near a black hole. Seriously more.

"There is still an atmosphere generator on each of the hubs," Morrel said, squelching along beside the group. "And what's more is that the black hole has... unique properties. We know of it only because we cruised by it by accident. It's almost impossible to actually find this place, unless you know exactly where to look. And... It broadcasts by itself."

What that meant... was amazing. Each of the eight took up a spot on a separate mining hub in this broken up asteroid field, with the stars and the black hole distorting a bit around them. They performed in unison, separately, distant and together. That broadcast went out through the black hole, somehow, and wound up exactly where it was needed most. How it did that, no one, not even the Galactirock crew, knew.

Arick set them up with some equipment that could be tuned specifically to certain rebel channels, or straight onto Federation comm lines, so they could be selective about where and when to start blasting their tunes.

***

"We've got to get back to Earth though," Coelestaad said, a bit urgently. "If they have gotten to Kamok by now, they'll know that the ship was boarded."

"It's only a matter of time," Morrel said. "Course is plotted, this time directly. We'll deal with anything else when we get there."

Their side trip to the asteroid mine delayed them only a day, but made a huge difference when they arrived near Earth's system. Vocorr had moved in along side their official Federation crafts, and when Coelestaad turned on their comm it was to hear that the Federation was already issuing a welcome speech... and their warning.

"In order to fully enjoy the benefits of Federation life, there are legal considerations to apply to your existing structure," it said. The voice was of the Federation president, a recording that played very similarly to Ija's psionic trick, altering itself to be heard in whatever language was needed. "National divisions of course must be dissolved for the purpose of true unity with the Federation. Your people will be welcomed gladly, travel will be arranged, spaceports and construction of safe power plants, and of course the quality of life here will increase as you will increase our own!"

"What a load of turds," Sideshow grunted again. Every time he heard the speech it made his second stomach constrict.

Of course they didn't outright say 'and the music has to stop', in that speech. It was actually something that the President didn't even touch on in official welcoming speeches to individual world leaders when they did meet up. It was buried in the piles of legal paperwork, of course. But enforced? Oh, yes. Enforced. Like all the other laws - particularly that one about the nations being dissolved. It was perfectly fine, the Federation said, to continue with cultural traditions. But flag waving politics, border wars, those were going to be a thing of the past.

"Anything yet?" Morrel asked as Coelestaad once more was manning the comm station. She nodded, all four hands moving as quickly as they did while she was drumming.

"They have several targets, and apparently they're going to use different ships and crews for it. Probably to avoid another pirate attack..." She smirked.

"Well, pick one, let's intercept and see what's up." He trundled back to the bridge, where Coel punched in the coordinates of the 'meeting'.

They arrived quickly, quietly. The ship had its onboard visi-screen up, and of course the early-technology of Earth couldn't have detected it with any of their radar - so visually it would only stand out if people could cross their eyes and do those fiddly 3-d dot puzzles. Ija cautioned them, "We should go," she tossed her head toward Arick and Coelestaad and herself, "they're just not used to really weird aliens," she quoted one of the Solos and they laughed.

It was true though, this place was packed with Humans and Humans only. Vocorr had sent a ship down earlier, apparently, and encountered something they liked, as well as something they didn't.

It was always good to recruit from among the natives, it was something they did very well in fact. So Ija and the twins - blue as they were, and feline-like as she was, they didn't stand out nearly as much as Sideshow did - slunk around to listen in on this recruitment conversation. It had apparently gone fairly well until a point...

"I can't even understand you, and that crazy boyfriend of yours," one young woman said. "I mean, they're facists with this! This is stupid!"

Another voice, very nearly the same, gave a low disagreement. "What they want is to help Earth get out there into the universe, I mean, come on Lareen, you can see that much! You were the one all ready to jump at it!"

"That was before they told us we couldn't play music any more!" Lareen spat, "go right ahead and join them, I know you're only doing it because you're tone deaf and can't stand the thought of anyone else enjoying it!"

The aliens heard footsteps - stomps - coming toward their direction in the dimly lit alley near this house they'd investigated.

Lareen stormed out, and while Arick heard her companion speaking into what was probably a Federation communication link, the girls intercepted her as she slammed the back door of her apartment shut.

"Shhh," Coelestaad said, urgently clamping both her left hands over Lareen's mouth, "trouble nearby, keep quiet."

Arick meanwhile was sending information through Ija's mind - having a telepath was oh so useful. "She's contacted the Vocorr reps, they're definitely on their way."

"Then we should be on our own way," Ija said, looking at Lareen, "I'm sorry for the scare, come with us, you won't regret it."

***

She didn't. Though Morrel informed them that the other two sites of contact had in fact resulted in abductions for "musical violations", this would prove to be a far better 'kidnapping'. Lareen looked around the ship in awe - even though it was by all standards a crap ship on the outside it was quite livable on the inside and she immediately recognized the musical instruments dotting the walls.

"So tell me again," Lareen later said, while still staring at Sideshow and Brantian nervously, "why do they do this? I mean, what use is it? And why do you keep smiling like that, foggy?"

Morrel gave a laugh, and replied, "because your sister will be extremely useful... to you."

"To you," Lareen said. "Yeah I ... hehe. I can see now. I get it. Sister off in Vocorr, I'm here with you, but pretty much no one can tell us apart if we're not standing right next to each other. We shared clothes all through school, heck we even traded off when we wanted to blow off classes."

"Then you have a bit of experience in ... infiltration," Ija said. "But as for the why... that will take some explanation. Come with me, I can show you more easily and quickly than looking it up in a history chip."

They made their way through the ship which seemed considerably more spacious than Lareen's apartment had been, into Ija's private chamber. There, the felinoid sat Lareen down on a cusion and instructed her to close her eyes, and ask whatever questions she had mentally. Ija would pick up the questions and reply even outside of what she was then doing: reciting the forbidden history of the Galaxy Federation.

It had started during the Outer Rim Wars. It was a long time ago, generations ago. Vocorr took control of the Galactic Federation security division, and blew a single law completely out of proportion.

"No music shall be played on radio frequencies."

During the massive Outer Rim Wars, this was essential, as the frequencies in question were needed for military security and not frivolous entertainment.

The Outer Rim Wars went on, however, for more than 50 years. And as Vocorr helped the Federation win numerous planets and secured mineral and land rights to them, they also began enforcing a variation or two of that law. Eventually, long after the Outer Rim Wars had been won, all planets under Federation control had a strict policy of, "no music shall be played".

A handful of planets would rebel against this idea specifically, or more in general to the tight-fisted Federation rules. Those worlds were made examples of, for any newly contacted or conquered planets. They are uninhabitable, even today.

"That's horrible," Lareen said. "They destroyed millions of people just for music?"

"And they will do it again," Ija said silently in Lareen's mind, with sorrow, "if your world does not cooperate."

Though Lareen was distressed at that, she would let those thoughts settle as Ija continued her instructions. Beyond just the history of why that particular law existed, the formation of the Vocorr and its ties to the Federation were important to learn. Their distinct appearance, their salutes and chatter - those things could easily be emulated by those who paid attention. And, by those who, like Ija-Djon, could pry into their memories without notice, and implant them directly where they'd be of most use.

"Tell me about you guys, though..." Lareen said, dreamily, as Ija paused.

Equally scarce were people who know firsthand, or knew by access to historical information, why this law even exists. Most people were content without music - they had never known it, and hearing it they may not have even truly recognized it. But there were some beings who lived through the Outer Rim Wars. Some who were around when music filled the air and celebrations or even simple gatherings were not complete without it.

Two of them formed the core of the anti-Federation pirate radio ship, Galactirock. One was the skinny, frantic looking Brantian who played an instrument somewhat similar to an Eigenharp . He out-lived his entire species, it was very unlikely that there were any others, for most of them were wiped out during one of the vicious Vocorr raids on Maxta.

Lareen stifled a sob at that. "Imagine... how horrid."

"We are his family now," Ija promised her, "we're your family now."

"You said two were there, was it you?"

Ija chuckled. "No, dear no I'm not that old."

The other was Captain Morrel, the amphibious pilot of the ship. Joining them early on was the dangerous and extremely moody 'Sideshow' who acted as a bodyguard but also as a tour arranger and DJ from the ship.

"He's kind of scary," Lareen said.

"Yes, he is, that's the point of having him here with us." Ija purred and gave a little chuckle. "And I suppose you want to know about me, well I'm a telepath as you can tell. It's illegal to be unregistered as a psionic if you have even a little power. They have ... retraining areas where psionics like myself would be brainwashed and molded into weapons and scouts for the Federation. I ... never bothered to register. I knew better even when I was your age."

"What is that thing you play, I can see it in your mind." Lareen enjoyed this contact, almost able to pick through Ija's mind herself.

"It's a keyboard which is sensitive to my emotional state, allowing me to project directly into minds nearby. That's ... illegal too, of course."

The twins Arick and Coelestaad were both drummers, having been picked up during hazardous smuggling runs (which the crew often resorted to doing, to pay for fuel, food and supplies). Both of them were rather stoned most of their days, but had never let that interfere with either their playing, or their escape from Vocorr hunting teams.

"So now you know us, and why we're here." Ija said, sighing and releasing Lareen's mind from her powerful grip. Lareen felt ... lonely without it.

Suddenly she jolted upright, "I have to get my gear!" She said, and Ija contacted the twins for that.

"They'll take care of it. Is there anything else you want from your home? Or ... to say good bye to anyone?"

Lareen bit her lip. Her freckled skin looked sallow in the light on board, almost matching her honey colored hair. "No. I mean... clothing I guess, but I could get that anywhere can't I? I mean, if I work for it?"

"You're working with us now," Ija said, "we'll bring some of your things, I'm sure that Coelestaad can figure out what you want. You're about the same age I believe."

So Lareen became their seventh crewmember, but not their last. They would spend days on Earth, tracking Vocorr movement and finally planting the seeds of dissent their own way. They broadcast from a hidden location, a mixture of their own songs and local favorites from Earth's own troubled past.

"Join us," they cried, "join us, for to join them would be to lose everything your music has taught you!"

***

Several years later, as Earth embroiled itself with the conflicts now arising on other fringe worlds, Grock's path took it closer to the Solo's space once more. They were surprised to learn that there were now ... creatures... living with them. Big, amazing creatures, dragons. Not the space-dragon type as the crew had illegally imported and bartered shed skins - those were endangered and while reasonably smart for animals, that's all they were, animals. These dragons that the Solos had gotten, they were amazing.

Ija reacted particularly strangely to this, though. Not shock from seeing intelligent dragons, nor that their friends had bonded to them or befriended them. But more, that something about the universe had changed in the meantime.

Nearly catatonic (no pun intended) she repeated the words, "the barriers are weak, so weak" until Sideshow splashed her with a cupfull of water to bring her out of it.

"I'd say thank you," the feline said, blinking and sputtering, "but I'd be lying."

"What barriers are you talking about?" Morrel asked, hoping that in her strange trance state she would recall it on waking. She did, Ija almost always remembered everything.

"... The universe. The differences between this and the others."

"Well that clears this up," Sideshow shook his trunk and lumbered over to another couch.

"She means the barriers between different dimensions," Arick said, happily understanding in his stoned daze. "Those dragons weren't from this dimension. The ones we have here kinda suck."

"They're very profitable," Sideshow snorted, after all their last highly successful smuggling gig netted them enough to upgrade the ship's defenses, and that was mostly space-dragon eggs.

"Yeah but they're dumb, dumber than you anyway," Arick ducked when Sideshow narrowed his eyes and puffed his trunk up.

"I guess I follow you, there were always people back at school talking about this dimension and that one and the other - but there was never any proof."

"The black hole the Solos live near is a weak spot," Ija pointed out. "No life should be possible that near it, and certainly not matter in its current form. Yet, there they are, the mining colony and all."

"And you think that's because... what?" Morrel shrugged.

"The black hole isn't really the same as ones we know suck down matter and spit it out somewhere else. It's not a wormhole," Coelestaad said over her shoulder as she was still busy with whatever electronics she was working on. "That black hole probably leads to another universe, where things are slightly different. With dragons, for instance."

Lareen wandered into the conversation from her shift monitoring the comm lines, and tagged Sideshow for his. "Something about dragons? What'd I miss?"

They explained quickly, and she sat down with a grin. "Oooh I love those dragons they got! So colorful. I bet ... I bet dragons would make a big difference anywhere you go around here."

"Particularly ones which can teleport or move through time-space," Morrel said, introspective.

Eventually, this conversation led to the group heading back to the Solos' space, and asking outright - where were they from? Who originally contacted them? Turned out that a few people came to them, from those other universes. They called it the Nexus, that mish-mash of worlds that sustained normal life and then... changed. The Grock crew didn't know that their own universe supported yet another Sanger... who helped 'break' those barriers between dimensions. There was one pretty much everywhere, after all.

They enjoyed their stay with the Solos, and helped broadcast some specific tunes, recorded others and transferred their existing recordings to the ship for later use. The whole crew of the Galactirock remained impressed with their skills, but also with their dragons.

"Well the upshot of all this," Ija said much later in the evening, "is that... well, I think it's time we jumped on board. We need them."

"Where we gonna put dragons?" Sideshow bellowed from somewhere around a corner, but then laughed. "Unless they can fly in deep space?"

"Some of them can," Ija posited, "I'm sure of it."

"Well," Lareen said with a grin, "the dragons already told me, they know we're in need and they are willing to help. I suspect that even if we don't or can't go looking for them, doesn't mean they can't come looking for us."