Each day returning was both hell and heaven. Hell, because memories could come back, the work he did was constant and often frustrating, and the ever present threat of the wild alien creatures loomed while he was most prone. In space, no one could hear you scream. Never had that saying been more true for Castor; should he die no one would find him or come to rescue him. Only Daphne might key in to his absence and think to look for him on his home world. Yet in this hell he had once called his kingdom, Castor was also finding heaven. Rewards that allowed him at the end of each day gave him a peace he’d not had in a long time.

The sight of a hard day’s work was accumulating over time, now slowly the rocks and rubble were vanishing and being replaced with fresh mortar and brick. Recycling what could not be saved and using it for what could be. Fragments of his past and the meanings and thoughts of joy that came with them. Glass he knew had come from kilns of his kinsman, a gift of the Polluxian Blue to illuminate the otherwise drab halls of stone and never-melting ice. Weapons carved with symbols of his world. Made from the near impenetrable shell of the Castorian Beetle. Spears and shields of the clear or opaque shell littered here and there, the armies long vanishing with time, but their remnants as sturdy as ever-- the stone walls preventing the large insects from being able to get to and devour them.

The statues carved from the never melting ice, now worn down or having broken apart to return to the earth and the land. Effigies he would find of various heralds. The Beetle, both a hated enemy, yet a feared and respected creature. They had been seen as a blight, a menace, but they were admired for their tenacity, their unification in battle, their strength and ferocity. They had come to embody the Castorian way of life. A warrior, peerless to the beasts of his land, masters of all they claimed. Unrelenting forces of nature, wild, untamable, and naturally, deadly.

Small finds gave Castor hope, they gave him back the memories of what he’d lost, and while they made him grieve, they also gave him hope. That long ago, when the senshi were not forced into shadows, they had been welcomed into their worlds and loved by her people. When stars, planets, suns, moons, seasons, all that would call itself Castorian, they had been his. His to protect, to aid and love and be loved in return. They had been his to claim, and his to rule. He’d been their senshi, but more than that, he’d been their prince. Someday their king, the one who would lead them.

Castor grunted as another brick was hefted into place. He’d gotten the base work of the outer front done he still had well over five feet to make in height. The warmth of the twin stars poured over him while cold winds nipped at his arms. His watch said it was just hitting 6 at night on earth. A full day spent working manual labor, two hours set aside for his actual earthen job. He’d been lucky that his school classes were all but review. It was time to go home and rest. Wash up, file paper work, eat dinner with his fiancé, maybe read or play some games, go out perhaps. Today he’d gotten the base of wall lined out. Tomorrow he’d work on adding height. After that, maybe more rubble moving. It was slow, tedious work but Castor was determined. The beetles were always determined in whatever the aimed to do, never relenting, never backing down. The Castorian beetle was a part of Castor.

Just as Castor was a part of his world and carried it’s heart in his own.