Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Ch. 17

 Hook. Line. Sinker. It was an old line I’d picked up from my nurse. She’d had all these old idioms that made very little sense. I’d never lived near a lot of water, so that one had intrigued me the most. She’d told me stories of fish great and small, and giant white whales—creatures that roamed the depths of the oceans and had been hunted by men in boats dug out from trees, their weapons so primitive it seemed amazing they were able to catch anything at all, much less something so large.

But humans could do amazing things. Like trick aliens. I hadn’t been harmed, but the conversations I’d overheard hadn’t been exactly friendly toward my kind either. It put me on edge and tempered my curiosity about the Four Arms. I’d rather be studying the animals I’d discovered on Ardra.

I clasped my hands together and tilted my head to one side, sitting slumped on the bunk. Small. Two arms only. No suit. No weapon. Just wanted some clean clothes, that’s all.

“Seedrah, please bring the human’s pack to L17.”

Bingo! I resisted the urge to grin but just barely. “I appreciate that.” I hoped showing thanks in their culture wasn’t a bad thing. Garjah had helped me a lot; cultures that took offense to such gestures were usually more stand on your own two feet or flounder. He’d literally swept me off mine several times.

We spent the time waiting for the Four Arms Timok called, Seedrah, by cautiously probing each other. Timok was far more open in his questions about humans. He had a data pad which he used to tap in notes as he questioned me about my preferred planet, diet, and he was beginning on family structure when the alert came.

Just in the nick of time. How to explain absent parents and stand in nurturers?

At least I’d learned more about them. I’d grasped they didn’t exactly chew, but Timok had given me a closer look at his mouth. The jaw really did have a fascinating hinge, and their throat structure was very unique. It made sense why they would eat a diet more focused on protein. What vegetation they ate was usually prepared in strips or came naturally in long, narrow stalks.  

I was hoping to get my fork as well as my clothes. The tongs were awkward, and I was afraid I’d slice my tongue off with the knife.

“The pack you requested, Timok.” Seedrah was one of the Four Arms who had ridges like Garjah. His markings were subtle, faded, and he looked like he was still growing into his limbs.

“Thank you.”

Seedrah saluted with two of his hands and stepped back so the door slid shut. His gaze was locked on me the whole time.

“Is he related to Garjah?” They had a similar intensity.

“Related?” Timok held my pack, the metal frame dangling from one of his hands. “That word has different meanings.”

“Do they share a genetic connection?”

“No. They are both of the same affiliation.”

I tilted my head. “Affiliation?” What could that be that lead to a similar physiology and behavior?

“Garjah is training Seedrah. He will be leader one day. The same as I am training Glovdok to take my place. I must check this,” he said, indicating my pack. “I know security would have checked it, but they do not have the knowledge on humans I do.”

Pressing my lips together, I nodded once. I didn’t like people going through my things, but Timok was at least a fellow scientist. Or a doctor. I wasn’t quite sure of his role. Timok. Glovdok. Garjah. Seedrah. The pattern couldn’t be a coincidence. Four Arms were named based on their roles and their bodies seemed to reflect that similarity.

Was it a genetic memory thing? A rank? Name then rank. Maybe I didn’t hear the separation between the two. I itched for anything to record everything I was learning, but I knew they wouldn’t let me. Maybe there was more to First Contact than I thought.

After rummaging around in my pack, Timok handed it over. “You can change. Low-gravvers struggle in an environment like ours, so after the meal, more rest is recommended until you acclimate better.”

“Can you step out?”

“Body shy? I did not think of that.”

“There’s not exactly anywhere private to go.” The toilet was in the corner, the shower was in the middle of the floor, and the bunk wasn’t going to hide anything.

Timok looked at me suspiciously, but he’d searched my pack. I waited. “I’ll be right outside. The meal will end soon, so please do not take too long.”

I dumped my pack on the bed as soon as the door swished behind him. Clothes, food, my first aid kit, my spare power packs, specimen kits, and small tools. I couldn’t believe they left those in there. With some privacy, I just might be able to rig up something with the tools at my disposal. I’d have to look more at their technology.

Skimming out of my suit, I pulled out a long-sleeved black suit stored in a tiny vacuum pack and undid the top. I shook it out then slid it on. It was snug, but it encased my feet and hooked over my thumbs to cover my arms. It was light enough not to be too warm. It would hide more of my pale skin. I couldn’t do anything about the lack of a second set of arms or my much smaller stature.

I tucked my kit back into my pack, carefully hiding the most useful tools inside my dirty suit, which I buried at the bottom. Trudging over to the door, I fumbled with the controls but eventually got it to open. Time to face the music. I snorted. Well, the room full of aliens who were bound to stare at me.

“Garjah!” My voice rose in surprise.

“Ready to eat?” 

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J Alan Veerkamp

Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs: Ancalgon Chapter 16

 

I was tempted to irk Garjah by testing the material around Bouncer’s feet. It was molded to his feet like a second skin. I’d seen the same thing holding liquid in the front of the hold, and it was flexible. I had to assume it was to prevent any of the poison they said was in his claws from coming out. Or did he inject it. The curiosity almost made me pick up his front leg and press on the pad, but Garjah’s hovering prevented it.

Besides, what if his claws punctured it. I tilted my head… but then what good would it do? But it was thin, and flexible, just like plastic. Frustrated, I wished for my pack and scanner. I wasn’t into technology, but the Four Arms had very advanced materials. It would be great to get a sample of the clear material because it definitely wasn’t any sort of clear film I knew, and if I could get some readings on the poison Bouncer had, that’d be even better.

After all, his behavior wasn’t going to be indicative of his species anymore but I could definitely study his physiology.

“Are you done touching him?” Garjah asked.

“Hmm? Oh, what? No.” I’d stopped with my hand in the air above Bouncer’s shoulder, contemplating his paws. “Why can’t we wake him up?”

“Do you wish him to be stuck in this tiny cage?”

I stiffened. “Of course not. He could stay with me.”

“No.” Garjah straightened. He locked all four arms together in a weird clinch at his waist. If he was an animal, I’d say he’d taken a defensive posture.

“Of course not because of great and powerful Garjah has spoken. Right? Is there anyone higher in rank than you I can talk to?” I really didn’t like Bouncer being in stasis. This was wrong. Even though he was warm under my touch, his muscles were lax, he wasn’t bouncing, and he wasn’t begging me for food. I missed his energy.

“No.”

Sighing, I turned away from Garjah. “Sorry, buddy.” I’d try to make them let him go whenever they put me stopped next.

And me too. I wanted off this ship.

 

Garjah silently took me back to my quarters. The way seemed even longer because I was trying to pay attention, but I was so exhausted my eyes kept closing and I’d jerk them open not knowing how long I’d drifted. Plus I was almost positive we went a different way than we’d taken to the hold, and the guide strips didn’t make much sense.

“Sleep. Recover. Timok will be by after the sleep shift to check on you.” Garjah deposited me on my bunk.

“Just Timok?” I yawned, smothering it with a fist.

“I will be on duty.” Garjah inclined his head. “Rest well.” He left and sleep claimed me quickly.

 

The next morning, or shift, or just whenever they’d decided I’d slept long enough, Timok entered my quarters and shook me awake. I shouldn’t have been this tired. “Did you do something to me?” I narrowed my eyes, sitting up and scrubbing a hand over my short hair.

“Define do and something,” he said. “I administered a booster to help you, gave Garjah reliable data on humans, helped your cerops…? What more do you want?”

“A ride back to where you picked me up, Bouncer out of stasis, and to go on my way back to my ship,” I answered promptly.

“You are in possession of knowledge dangerous to many should it be shared. Ancalagon should have been safe, but your patrols are getting more bold.”

I snorted. Bold. Needy was more like it. The universe was a pretty big place, but people—humans, aliens, basically all sentient life—bred nearly unchecked. The challenge was finding the resources to support everyone.

“You’ve taken my equipment. I can’t share any proof.” I’d find a way.

“Hmm….” Timok’s expression didn’t change, or I couldn’t see it. “Even so, what happens next is not my decision.” He waved a hand, then slapped it against his side. “Come now, it is time you bathed. You are emitting an odor that is growing steadily more unpleasant, so I assume your species bathe frequently.”

“Of course we do!” I sniffed discreetly, but all I could smell was the salt and metal that permeated the ship and my clothes.

The short-sleeved suit I’d worn under my exosuit was only so good for so long, plus I’d slogged across the planet for some time in it. I probably could use a shower. “Do you have a shower I can use?” I didn’t see another door in my quarters where they’d stuck me.

“Stand here.” Timok indicated a space on the floor with a subtle texture. “Touch here.” He pointed to a small depression on the wall and then another one spaced farther than my fingers would spread. I sighed and used both hands to press the marks. Heated waves radiated down against my head and shoulders.

“Oh!” A sonic shower. “And it does my clothes at the same time? Efficient.”

“Usually you disrobe,” Timok said dryly. “We do have facilities to launder clothing.”

My face went up in flames. “Oh.”

“However, being as you have no other clothing, I can see the confusion.”

Aha! Here was my chance. “I have other clothing in my pack. Can I get it back?”

Timok’s face was easier to read than Garjah’s. The wrinkle between his narrowed eyes said things were sneaking through his brain. Maybe the same things going through mine. I widened my eyes and smiled serenely.

“Garjah didn’t get that for you?”

I hedged, “I was too tired after seeing Bouncer. I’d feel a lot better with my things.” Any biologist knew creatures managed captivity better with familiar surroundings. I’d play on that if I had to. 

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J Alan Veerkamp

Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Chapter 15

We saw a few other Four Arms on our way to the hold. Garjah exchanged greetings with them, but none of them spoke to me. They stared at me intently, but I studied them just as closely. They all wore close-fitting suits like Garjah did, and they had boots on. The skin I could see varied in shades of green, and unlike Garjah who wore stripes across his skin, their markings varied.

Some had spots, some swirls, a few looked almost geometric. Chevrons, squares, even waves. One smaller being had no marks I could see at all.

Female? None of the Four Arms had hair, but a few had smooth skulls covered in the same markings on their faces and bodies—the parts I could see—while others had dark, almost black ridges with recessed holes or pits in regular intervals along the curving spines going from the middle of their forehead area before flaring wide and over their head.

Maybe those were the females. They all seemed to be smaller than Garjah, who was taller and wider than each we met. Maybe it was his size, or the way he carried me, but they all moved to the side to allow us to pass as well.

The ship had shining walls and lights shone in different colored strips. “What are the colors for?” I asked.

“Guide strips, for those new to the ship. We mirror the night and day cycle on our home planet, and the light cycle is short. Color zones, patterns, and spacing indicate the correct path.”

“So you turn off the lights in the hallway?” That was good to know. If I was going to try to escape, stumbling around in the dark could give me away, but if I could get my suit back, I could use the helmet to help me see.

“It is more comfortable.” Garjah waved his hand to activate a door.

“Is this the—” My question cut off as I gasped, frantically grabbing on to any part of Garjah’s body I could reach. He’d stepped through the door and into an open shaft, and we immediately began to fall.

His grip tightened on me, and I couldn’t even protest. Maybe if he held me close enough, his bulk would protect me when we came to a splat at the bottom of the shaft we were currently plummeting through. I couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of the weight crushing my body easing.

“What is wrong?” Garjah asked.

My heart pounding, the food I’d just eaten rising in my throat, I managed a strangled, “Falling. Gonna die!”

He snorted. “No we’re not. This is a gravity well. There is a cushion at the bottom.”

The light around us flashed, and he bent his knees. A second later we bounced. My teeth clacked together painfully. I panted, my eyes screwed up tight.

“Human? Are you well?”

No. Not even a little. “My name is Essell Deray.” Had I told them my name before? I should have. Probably one of the first things. “What?”

“Are you well, Essell Deray?” Garjah repeated. “Your hold is very tight.”

My face heated, but I hadn’t thrown up and my heart was slowly easing back from its racing pound. Even for the short time we’d been falling, I’d grabbed on so tight my fingers ached when I let him go. “Sorry. And it’s just Essell. That’s my first name.”

“First name,” Garjah said slowly. “And Deray is your second name? Did you get them at different times?”

I huffed. “No. Essell is the given name my parents—the beings who gave birth to me—gave for just me to use, but the Deray is my family name. We share it.”

“But you just said I could use it.” We were moving again.

Spirits save me from literal translations. “A first name is something a family gives to their children when they are born so everyone knows who they are and what to call them as an individual. The last name tells what family they belong to. You have a name, right? Garjah.”

“Garjah is my function, not a name.” No wonder they needed the lights; this ship was huge. We still hadn’t reached the hold.

What if I wanted to talk to him? “How do you know who is who if you just go by your job title? How many Garjah’s are on this ship? What is a Garjah?”

His chin gutted out. “There are no other Garjah. Just me.”

Okay, he was proud of that, clearly. “And that means…?”

“I lead.”

Despite offering to answer questions, Garjah spoke few words about himself. It was akin gathering tiny nuggets of information from a vast database I couldn’t navigate. Frustration didn’t begin to cover it, but I was too exhausted to dig further.

Besides, the next door he opened was to the hold. The cavernous space was filled with crates, bags, binsin sections. Vegetation lay in piles.

And animals. Unmoving, caged, and as much as I hated stressed animals, I hated the look of deathly stasis state more. It also gave me the creeps thinking they’d put me in stasis too.

Or tried.

“Your cerops is over here.”

Bouncer was in a separate area. Garjah leaned down and placed me on the floor. The vibration hummed even stronger here than my quarters. His dark eyes were closed, all four paws pulled in close to his belly. Plastic encased each foot.

I reached in between the bars of his cage to touch one.

“Mind the claws!” Garjah snapped.

“They’re covered. Besides, if you gave me my suit, I wouldn’t have to worry.” I reached up and rubbed Bouncer’s shoulder instead. It disturbed me to see his youthful enthusiasm so stilled. “He doesn’t need to eat or drink?” Bouncer was always hungry.

“In stasis, his body functions are suspended. He is fine.”

At least Garjah called him a he, not it. I'd changed his mind on something. 

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Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Chapter 14

Whatever I wished to know. I could ask him questions for hours. Who cared about food? I wished I had a recording device. Notes. I needed to take notes. How else could I organize my thoughts or remember everything Garjah told me?

Garjah settled a plate in front of me. It held fairly standard looking protein cubes and some feathery purple stalks. “What are these?” I asked.

“They are safe. Timok had Andulsa program in a human-safe section to the food reproducer. These are your protein cubes, and this is selari blooms from a planet in your sector.”

Not a planet I’d ever visited. “Just because it’s in our sector and humans occupy or visit doesn’t mean the food is safe. Humans adapt but we also avoid.”

“Timok did the research. It is safe.” Garjah settled in front of his own plate, easily twice the size of mine, filled with thick slabs of meat. Real meat, not protein. The seared stench reminded me of a fire I’d once rescued a queme—a small furred mammal that burrowed in woody bushes that grew in tangles on Plensen IX. The rest of its colony hadn’t made it.

“Thank you for not serving me that.” I watched in distaste as he picked up a chunk, bit off a bite and swallowed it whole.

“I am not ignorant,” Garjah mumbled. “Timok does not eat meat either.”

Huh. Another commonality with these alien people. It was hard to study animals, to learn everything about them, love them, and reconcile eating them when perfectly acceptable protein cubes were available. They could even be made to mimic meat textures and tastes, should I wish to be discreet in my avoidance of eating local delicacies. Deciding to show my trust by accepting the meal was safe, I speared a bite with the knife provided. That and a pair of tongs were the only utensils provided.

“Have you ever heard of a fork?” I asked. Not the most pressing of questions, but one that might allow me to eat without slicing the side of my mouth or stabbing my tongue.

Garjah’s tilted his smooth green head. He kept eating with one set of his hands, and the other rested on the top of the table. “What is a fork?” he asked between bites.

I explained it to him between bites as he kept encouraging me to eat, watching in fascination as I chewed the protein cubes and cut up the stalks of the selari and gingerly picked them up with the tongs. “Do you only eat meat?” I asked when he said he would try to get a fork replicated for me. He’d already eaten half the thick chunks of flesh.

“No, but when we have fresh supplies, everyone takes advantage.”

Fresh supplies. Was that why they were on Ardra? A supply run? “What supplies?”

“Food. Water. Oslium mineral.”

My eyes flared wide. “Oslium?” I must have heard him wrong. That was one of the most precious minerals in the known universe, and of course, one of the rarest. “There is no oslium on Ardra.” There was no way the planet wouldn’t have been made Priority One with an entire fleet of mining ships with a military escort surrounding it.

“Your technology is limited.” Garjah gestured with one hand, a lower arm shrug which looked strange. “You use inferior metals, which I assume is due to a lack of detection and processing ability.”

He was talking about my suit again. “We are not some backward society.”

“Of course not.” Garjah shook his head. “But we have a much longer history and have been traveling space for far longer than humans have. Most of the cultures in your Allied space are young.”

“Young?” I goggled at him. “We have been exploring space for thousands of years. The Aeneom have been for longer than humans have a recorded history.”

“And we have been exploring space for far longer.” Garjah did the shrug again. “We have learned to avoid young races, but you are quite prolific and adaptable, Timok says.”

He repeated what Timok said a lot. I narrowed my eyes. “Do you spend a lot of time with Timok?” I asked.

“As much as anyone.” Garjah tilted his head back and swallowed his last bite. He used his tongue—long and thin, pale green like the lighter stripes on his skin—to clean the juices off the hands he’d used to eat. He swiped along each finger, and his tongue literally curled around each one.

I clenched the knife in my hand, then put it down carefully.

Garjah blinked his large eyes. They seemed oversized, beautiful and liquid, set over narrow nostrils with a tiny bridged nose and thin lips that just covered his sharp teeth. He had high cheekbones and a triangular jaw that had flared wide when he opened his mouth to chomp through the meat. He’d watched my every move since he came into my room, frequently glancing at me even when he was getting us food.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you done?”

Half my plate was still full, but my stomach churned. I nodded, then remembered that might not mean anything to him. “Yes.”

He stacked my plate on his. “Come.”

It was a struggle to stand but pushing on the tabletop helped. The gravity on this ship felt even higher than Ardra’s, and the extra weight made it hard to do anything. “Are we going back to my room?” I didn’t have the energy for anything else.

“Don’t you want to go see the cerops?”

“I can see Bouncer?” My heart jumped. “Yes! I want to see him.” I took a step and my knees buckled.

Garjah jumped forward, catching me with two hands under my armpits with my knees barely an inch above the floor.

“I’m fine!” I insisted. Would he refuse to take me now?

“You are not. I will carry you.”

I could argue, or I could go see Bouncer. I didn’t argue.

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Carol Pedroso

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Ch. 13

Garjah pressed a spot on the straps and they retracted smoothly. What had he pushed? I didn’t see any button but I could have been free that easy? Not that there was anywhere to go. I didn’t see a way to open the door from the inside either, and the room was small.

I sat up immediately and hissed as my feet touched the floor. They were bare and the pulse of an engine vibrating through the metal disturbed me. “Are we still moving?”

“Yes, but you are awake now so Timok wants me to take you for a meal.”

“Timok?”

“He is the doctor from earlier.”

Oh, the biologist, the other alien I’d met. “And Timok is in charge?” I asked, probing carefully. I could do this. I seemed to have forgotten how to engage my brain since the ship blasted over me and Bouncer, but I had to shake off the shock fogging my thinking.

“No.” Garjah’s thin lips spread in what looked like a smile. I reminded myself not all animal behavior that fell into similar patterns could be attributed to the same impulses. The same held true for alien cultures. So a smile might mean amusement, happiness, anger or scorn… or who knew? Emotions weren’t the same for all species.

I needed to treat the Four Arms like I would any new species I came across—form an unbiased opinion based on their behavior.

Not exactly reassuring. They’d stunned me, abducted me into their ship, and took off to locations unknown. What was that adage staff member whatever number used to repeat? “Never get into a spaceship with a stranger,” I murmured.

“What is that?” Garjah asked.

“Oh.” My face heated. I needed to stop talking to myself; these guys could understand me, unlike Bouncer and the bugs I’d collected. “Nothing.”

“Come. Third meal is over, but there is still food.”

“I’m barefoot.” I gestured to my feet. “Can I get my suit?” Step one to getting my gear back; start with the basics. He was still wearing the same tight uniform I’d first seen him in, or a new one that was identical, but he had on thick boots instead of bare feet. “This floor will hurt me if I walk too far on it.” Probably not, but how would he know that?

“No. I will carry you.” Garjah swept me up with his lower arms before I could object, his upper arm waving in front of a spot by the door. Great, another hidden sensor. Or maybe they just responded to Four Arms.

“Put me down,” I protested. I pushed on his chest and squirmed. His hands clamped down on my upper thighs and ribs, and I gasped and quivered.

“What?” Garjah came to an abrupt halt. “Did I hurt you? Timok said you weren’t injured.”

“I’m ticklish and your hand is in a bad place.”

“My apologies.” Garjah promptly brought up his upper arm around my shoulders and tucked me against his chest, darn near curling me into a ball by linking his upper and lower hand. “Is that better?”

This guy was built like an android. Muscles hard as a rock under his textured skin, his uniform was soft against my cheek. That same metallic tang chased by an almost salty aftertaste, as if I’d licked his skin after smelling him, should have rusted metal or old coins, but it was uniquely his. Not appealing, exactly, but not bad.

I wondered what I smelled like to him. He wasn’t snuffling me with those thin nostrils set above his lips. His slit pupils dilated when he looked at me, widening visibly. What did he see?

“I can walk.”

“You are a low-gravver. Plus you were stunned. Let me help you.” He started stamping down the corridor again, so it wasn’t like he was going to put me down because I’d repeated myself. Stubborn Four Arm.

Unable to stop him, I settled in for the ride. “Where are we going? Can I see Bouncer?”

“Your cerops is fine, if unhappy. If you wish, I can reunite you after the meal.” Garjah turned left at an intersection, I think the third one we came to. “And we are going to the crew dining hall on this level.”

This level? How big was the ship? Was the jungle so thick I’d completely missed a starship cruiser? I thought I was dealing with a small crew, maybe a few Four Arms.

Another assumption. I scowled. I had to stop doing that.

“Are you all right? Your face is very wrinkled. And you’re making sounds.” Garjah slowed.

Looking at his chiseled features, feeling his rigid flesh, I could guess Four Arm expressions didn’t vary much. No wonder I confused him. As alien as they seemed to me, I was accustomed to many species. With the Four Arms’ isolation, maybe they weren’t.

“I’m just annoyed. It’s fine.”

“Annoyed.” He paused in front of a door. “At something I did?”

“No, no. Something I did. Don’t worry about it. It’s a human thing.” Well, not solely. Lots of aliens made assumptions, but humans could be blind to much other species found obvious.

As the door opened, Garjah took a step back. “A human thing? Do I need to take you to Timok? He knows about humans. Are you hurt? In danger? Is it the ticklish thing? Did I harm you?” His questions fired more rapidly than I thought Garjah could talk with his slow and steady demeanor before.

“Whoa, calm down! I’m fine.” I stressed the word. “Just confused, worried about Bouncer, and trying to take everything in. And you’re not really giving me a lot of information to go on.”

The dining hall was empty, so we must have missed the meal shift, but I could smell food. My stomach rumbled. Garjah settled me into a chair. “I will get you food, then you can ask me whatever you wish to know.”

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Carol Pedroso

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