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Section One: Return To Draun

Martinez was pleased with the treatment he got while at the Draun station. Doctor Harnsis had done an excellent job pulling the piece of slag out of his gut and stitching him back up. Harnsis had done such flawless work that you could hardly spot the lingering scar across his abdominals.

Harnsis even spent time with him while he was on observation, which was a great boon to him since the nurse's treatment was downright criminal. They treated Martinez like some kind of leper for his entire stay, unwilling to look at him lest they catch whatever he had. He had felt more welcome at boot camp with drill instructors screaming at him.

Once Martinez returned to HNS (Human Naval Ship) Jericho, the Marines began to bombard him with questions nonstop. They always found him no matter where on the massive ten-kilometer-long orbital deployment vessel. The squad was relentless enough that he eventually got tired of explaining that he had never met any aliens while on the station and how the aliens, other than the Doctor, either fainted or avoided him like a plague.

That answer didn’t satisfy the Marines in any way. It was rare for Humans to work with or be around aliens as the species was so young to the galactic stage. A few of them took Martinez’s brush-off attitude, ran with it, decided he must have asked one of the nurses on a date, and swung out.

Martinez did his best to laugh along with it; it was just playful teasing at the end of the day. It wasn’t as if any of the Marines truly hated their Corpsman. He tolerated the playful jibing until word got passed that Martinez would be transferred out of the unit and be permanently reassigned to Draun station.

That announcement opened the floodgates for mockery. As far as the Marines were concerned, Christmas had come early.

Martinez would constantly be inundated by Marines poking fun at him and his nonexistent lady love. How creative they managed to get with their pranks was commendable, but that kind of creativity was the norm when playing Grunts-and-Crafts.

They uploaded porn onto his datapad and ended the daily briefing by asking him how they could get an alien girlfriend. One of them either crafted or stole an inflatable Roswell gray sex doll, lightly used it, and stuffed it into his rack. The true origin of that abomination is a mystery only the elder gods would ever know.

But all of that was in the past. It has been nearly an entire Earth year since the announcement of his transfer. Martinez was now sitting in the back of the small shuttle, taking him back to Draun station. Going back felt almost surreal. He had been in the Navy his whole adult life, from when he turned 18 nearly 12 earth years ago. While technically, he was on active duty for three more standard years, with his new assignment, the Human Navy might as well have given him early separation orders.

Martinez twiddled his thumbs as the shuttle began to break the atmosphere. The momentum lulled as air compressed around the bottom of the shuttle, causing it to vibrate gently and bright fire to flick along the outside of the nearby porthole.

He looked around at the other passengers and quickly picked out those for whom this was their first time breaking the atmosphere. Whatever appendage they possessed clung tightly to their chair, or they held their eyes closed and tried to retreat into their mind.

Their nervousness was something Martinez could understand. The vibrations and dull humming of superheated air around the craft were concerning, at least for your first time. Martinez had broken atmosphere more times than he could count over his combat-riddled Naval career, from the lush jungles of Harudeth to the godless deserts of Verilon, landing at a relay station like Draun was no different than heading to the gee-dunk.

The shuttle and the parent ship they left a few hours ago had been filled with aliens of hundreds of species. Most he did not recognize, but a few he did from the rare times he and the Marines went on shore leave.

One of the insect-like aliens, likely the same species as Dr. Harnsis, was sitting a few chairs down from him, and they were calm and collected, just like the Doctor. But this one looked slightly different; instead of having a matte green carapace like the Doctor, it was a bright, vibrant blue, nearly as shiny as a well-polished gem.

Martinez wondered if it was the same species at all because of the color difference or if it could be some form of sexual dimorphism or possibly convergent evolution. But he was not going to just ask the random individual about it, assuming that posing such questions might be perceived as rude.

Following a short flight after breaching the atmosphere, the shuttle entered the temperate climate of the station’s region. Martinez looked out the nearby porthole and watched as the vast ocean of trees flew by, spattered remnants of intelligent life evident in small clusters of buildings or the occasional homestead tucked far away from their destination city.

The shuttle lurched to an abrupt stop, the first specks of the city barely visible past the landing pad's edge. Through the shuttle's loudspeakers, a dry voice crackled.

“Thank you all very much for flying with us today. Please make sure you bring all your luggage, appendages, and trash with you. I would not want to make my copilot clean up today.”

There was a small amount of chittering and what sounded like a muffled bellow coming from the cockpit, Martinez assuming that to be the pilot and co-pilot having a brief argument about the joke. Martinez gave a slight chuckle before hefting up his sea bags. He slung one across his chest and another across his back, a nearly universal transport method for all the Human military.

He and the rest of the passengers shuffled their way out of the rear ramp of the landing craft. The warm air of the late summer happily greeted them for their first steps on the planet of Renoural. Martinez adored being planetside for the first time after nearly a year on the ship—that, and after an about eight-hour landing craft flight, his legs felt like lead. Finally, having a chance to move was heaven. His legs had gone numb nearly three hours ago, and now they finally had blood flowing freely and started to regain feeling.

Slipping out of the swarm of disembarking aliens, Martinez took in a deep breath of fresh, non-recycled air and fell into the briefest moment of bliss. He paused and looked over the city from the elevated landing pad, this being the first time he could see Draun city and station in their full glory and not through the small window of a medical room.

The tall, square white walls of Draun station reflected the spiraling twin suns above; it boldly stood out amongst the city's buildings that grew out of the station. The urban sprawl was more vibrant and beautiful than a rainbow in spring and had been crafted with care into designs that Martinez had never seen nor could have imagined.

Each building looked like a work of art. The roads, walls, doors, and parks were each a unique piece of history that helped to tell the story of the city and its inhabitants.

The Navy had briefed him on Draun station's purpose in the sector. Unlike many other planetside locales he had visited, it acted more as a relay port for ships as they traveled around this section of space—the sector's sprawling central hub allowing for safe resupply, rearmament, and rest. A familiar voice called out as he stood there, basking in the vast expanse of the city below and the lush forestry bordering the horizons.

“Human Martinez, how was your trip?” Doctor Harnsis chittered.

Twisting around and looking over the drab green sea bag attached to his front, the insectoid doctor stood, tilting his head slightly. A few small antennas moved atop his head and sampled the air.

The doctor's appearance looked the same as the last time Martinez had been on the station, reminding him of a giant praying mantis; if that mantis was almost two meters tall and had four small arms on its thorax, in lue of a pair of large grasping claws.

“Doc, it's great to see you again,” Martinez said with a bright smile drawing up on his lips.

“It is nice to see you too,” Harnsis replied, slightly bowing to Martinez.

“Doc, you know you don't have to bow or anything to me, right? I'm just a Corpsman,” Martinez replied before twisting his body slightly to look between his sea bags at the doctor.

“Ah, sorry, based on your look, you seem confused. It is just how my species greet one another, similar to how your species, if my research was correct. Ummm, shake hands,” Harnsis said while mimicking the up-and-down motion of a handshake with one of his four short arms.

“Ah, alright,” Martinez nodded.

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“But you are probably tired and want to put your bags down. Follow me, and I will show you to the director's office; then, we can get you settled into your quarters,” Harnsis happily clicked.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I'm excited to rack out and get some sleep,” Martinez replied.

Harnsis led Martinez down a long zig-zagging set of metal stairs from the landing pads to the ground level. Once on the surface level of the city, it was a short walk to the outer gates of Draun station.

Seeing the station up close was far more grand than from up high on the landing pads. A tall chain link fence surrounded the grounds, with periodic gates leading to any significant locations. The station consisted of a series of multi-story buildings, with shaded black windows breaking up the white siding. Amidst the towers were several large domes. Each was a uniquely specialized medical ward, one of which Martinez would be starting the following day.

Security stopped them at the out-of-the-way gate that Harnsis led Martinez to. A stern and to-the-point officer wearing all gray combat fatigues and heavy back armor started to go through the rather long and annoying process of having Martinez dump out all the contents of his bags for search.

The nearly jet-black-skinned officer was clearly not happy while turning out every item that Martinez had brought along. Apparently, searching through every item someone owned was not part of his day-in and day-out work. He grew more frustrated by the moment as he slowly realized whatever contraband he was looking for was nowhere in Martinez’s extensive collection of scrubs, books, uniforms, and some Human comforts.

The officer thought he found paydirt when he searched Martinez’s pockets and found his stashed bottle of hot sauce, assuming the fiery red liquid to be some kind of poison. After a quick explanation from Martinez that he had tucked the bottle in his pocket to spice up the generally bland food on the transport ship, the officer's excitement began to deflate, only for it to be utterly crushed into the deck when Harnsis swung some of his weight as a doctor and assured the downtrodden security guard it was a type of food that Humans enjoy.

Once the despondent officer had given up on his search for whatever contraband he so eagerly wanted to locate, he defeatedly waved the duo through—wishing them both a lovely day in the hospital.

The walkthrough of Draun station was comforting for Martinez. He felt at home in hospitals and military bases, and after having been on a civilian transport ship for the last few weeks, his nerves were tighter than the wires of a piano. Every minute on the transport, he had felt exposed, like no one around could be relied upon should something terrible happen. Being back in a hospital felt like he had just managed to grab hold of some hardcover during a horrendous firefight.

The pristine white halls were immaculately cleaned, without a single hair or speck of dirt anywhere. Martinez’s boots squeaked on the polished linoleum floors as he trailed behind Harnsis, who fluttered just a few centimeters off the deck.

Few of the nurses they passed paid the two of them any mind. They were just another pair of aliens amidst thousands of species represented on the station. In Martinez’s habitual vigilance, he became painfully aware that some nurses they neared had likely heard the stories of his first visit to the station. The aliens would make eye contact with him before quickly scurrying away or keeping their eyes firmly averted until they slunk past.

After the two of them made it to the far side of the medical facility, they entered an elevator to take them to the highest level of the station, where Harnsis ceased flying and began to walk.

“Now, Human Martinez, when you meet the Director, do your best to be polite. You have to make a good impression here. I requested you by name. I would rather not, oh what's the phrase, be hurled under the vehicle?” Harnsis chittered.

“ Doc, it's thrown under the bus, but I understand. Be polite, be professional,” he confirmed.

“Oh, it is—Hmm, I will have to double-check my translations later today,” The doctor said, a slight skitter of frustration in his voice.

Harnsis had been clearly studying Humans and culture, and it was almost embarrassing that Harnsis seemed to know about Humans. While Martinez didn’t even know what his species was called.

“What is your species, if you don't mind me asking?” Martinez asked.

Harnsis made a clicking noise with his wigs for a moment. Martinez did not know what the sound meant, but he would ask those questions later or eventually figure it out through enough exposure.

“I'm sorry, I keep forgetting that Humans are new to the Union and likely aren't as versed in species types. I am a Thurian, and my species is an arboreal flying species,” He clicked.

Well, at least that question is answered, Martinez thought to himself, just before the elevator doors slid open and revealed a short, well-decorated hallway.

The floor had an interlocking black and white tile design, a few benches pressed against the walls, and paintings of nature scenes were centered just above them. At the far end of the short hall was a set of doors that looked incredibly out of place on the station.

All the doors they had passed so far had either been cleanly painted metal or flap doors that could allow carts to be pushed through. These doors were dark, nearly black wood covered in intricately carved designs. They looked like a series of medical symbols. Martinez could make that assumption based on the far newer-looking Caduceus on the lower left corner of the door.

“Go ahead and drop your bags off on the ground. I will go in and make sure the Director is ready for you,” Harnsis said while gesturing to one of the benches just outside the doors.

Martinez nodded as Harnsis opened and quickly closed the doors behind him. He dropped his seabags on the deck and lowered himself onto the bench. The metal creaked under his weight as he sat down, but Martinez was too focused on other things to notice.

While waiting, he thought through the basic reporting procedures that his drill instructors made sure he knew by heart.

Walk in a military manner, snap to attention, and salute. Say Corpsman Martinez reporting as ordered, then drop your salute. Stand there and wait to be addressed. He imagined how reporting would go at least a dozen times before the doors opened, and Harnsis ushered him into the room.

When Martinez passed through the breach, those plans quickly went out the window when he saw the Director. The alien was gigantic, almost three meters of heavily muscled jet-black scales. Nearly as wide as he was tall, his large body juxtaposed by the relatively small head above its shoulders.

The director's head was covered in thick ash-colored plate-like bones and had several rows of sharp needle-like teeth. Above the intimidating maw were four sets of greenish-yellow eyes with slit pupils. The incomprehensibly black slits looked Martinez up and down slowly, like the Director was sizing him up for his next meal rather than meeting someone who would be working under him.

The Director's voice fits his intimidating appearance flawlessly. A low growling tone escaped the aliens, slowly parting lips. “It's nice to meet you, Henry Martinez. I am the Director of the station. My name is Grutir’k, but you can just call me Sir; everyone else does.”

Martinez stood there locked up for several seconds. His knees quaked in his trousers, having been knocked into motion by the heavy base of the Director's voice. Harnsis nudged Martinez’s side and mimicked a gentle cough. The simple action pulled him back to reality. Martinez shook his head clear of whatever amount of that ingrained response he could and did his best not to appear nervous in front of the massive alien.

“I—I—It is nice to meet you too, sir,” Martinez stuttered as cold beads of sweat poured down his back.

The Director nodded and pushed a small envelope across the desk with a massive clawed hand. He tapped the top of the envelope with his long black claw and continued to speak.

“You will find your quarters key and ID inside. They are the same badge, so do your best not to lose it,” the Director growled.

Martinez hesitantly reached forward, his eyes locked on the massive knife-like claws centimeters away from the documents. He snatched the envelope and quickly pulled it tight to his chest like a hungry scavenger stealing from a predator. The Director narrowed his eyes at Martinez and shook his head.

“Look, kid, I know you Humans aren't used to other species just yet, but so long as you do not cause any trouble on my station, you will find everyone here very amicable— Despite how they may appear,” the Director slowly said while staring daggers into Martinez.

“Uh–uh– yes, sir, I will do my best not to cause trouble,” Martinez said while nervously nodding along.

The Director let out a low growl that almost sounded like a sigh. Then looked over toward Harnsis. “Harn, see to it that he gets to his quarters and settled in.”

“Yes, sir, that won't be a problem. Human Martinez won't cause any issues. I'm excited to see how his species will adapt to working with us,” Harnsis eagerly said while holding a thumbs-up with one of his three-digit hands.

“Good, you see to that,” the Director grumbled while slowly nodding. His eyes shifted back to Martinez, and he quickly extended his massive clawed hand toward him. Martinez nearly leaped out of his skin to retreat from the encroaching daggers.

The Director paused for a moment but left his hand in the open. “Look, Harn tells me your species shake appendages when you meet.”

Martinez swallowed nervously and looked at the man's hand. It was as large as his chest and was covered in skin that looked as tough as Kevlar. Martinez took a short steeling breath before shakily reaching out, grabbing one of the Director's scaled fingers, and returning the handshake.

“Good, I'm glad Harn wasn’t lying to me. Welcome aboard, Henry Martinez. Now I have a lot of work left to do today; you are dismissed,” the Director said as he shooed them away with his fingers, their sheer size causing a small wind in the office.

“We will do that right away, sir,” Harnsis replied, guiding Martinez toward the door.

Once Harnsis and Martinez escaped the office and left the massive lizardman behind, Harnsis pat Martinez on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don't worry. Everyone has that reaction when they first meet the Director. He is used to it. On the bright side, I think he likes you,” Harnsis said.

If that is what the director is like to who he likes, Martinez was terrified to see how someone he hates gets treated. During that short meeting, he felt like he was one wrong word from an elephant-sized alligator ripping his arms off.

“That's— concerning,” Martinez sighed as his body tried to calm down from what, as far as his primal brain was concerned, was a life-or-death encounter.

“You will get used to it and likely won't see him much anyway. For now, let's get you to your quarters. I took the liberty of getting Human furniture and other articles of memorabilia for you,” Harnsis happily chittered.

happily chittered.