Chapter 1 - A Second Arrival
(in which we meet our heroes, and the planet)
> "As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts."
>
> --Captain Ahab, Moby-Dick (Herman Melville)
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Jul 19 2234
The lights in the lounge room cast a cold and bright glow over the sleek furniture, the dark matte hues of which contrasted with the bare metal walls. These three lights were of the same amount and color as the system's suns, which glimmered on the small rectangular viewscreens that lined the walls, electronic substitutes for dangerous windows. There were many people here, most of different species, but aside from half-voiced conversations and occasional footsteps, the hum of the starship's torches was uninterrupted. The room was more long than it was wide, with a line of chairs along the walls and a few tables with stools in the center. Humans and aliens of all stripes read and watched, talked and played. The metaphorical atmosphere resembled a quiet cafe more than a survey starship, while the literal atmosphere resembled a smoothie of several nitrogen-oxygen airs, at a pressure and temperature that was acceptable, but not quite comfortable, for anyone.
Some ever-shifting fractal patterns danced across another, more TV-like viewscreen that hung from the ceiling, their whimsical beauty marred somewhat by the 'mute' icon in the corner. This silent spectacle was the result of an argument: Iraklijs the human and Zkeh the chohjozra found each other's preferences in visual media to be unbearable, so they settled for a compromise chosen by Lyiue the Chimera.
Iraklijs Sīlis leaned back in his chair, reading an old-fashioned novel. Its pages were not just yellow but brown, and little ragged cuts further testified to its age. He was a man in his early thirties, with formerly-white skin that had been tanned through exposure to many different alien sky-scapes. His face was angular and narrow, and his sole remaining eye, the left one, was a deep brown color. In place of the other eye was a shiny black camera surrounded by a patch of metal that almost reached his cheekbone. Iraklijs' dark hair was partially bleached by the same rays that affected his skin. He wore a dark gray, almost velvety nanoweave jacket with a hood and brown cargo pants, both emblazoned with small logos of the COMA Agency: an oval shape with a looking-glass in the middle.
Iraklijs suddenly put down the book. "When are we going to be allowed to check out our Star Tortoise?" he mumbled to nobody in particular.
Ekut Karo's shrill voice echoed from somewhere unseen, right outside the door. Somehow, she picked up even that almost-whisper. "You asked this exactly four times during just this transfer! In a day, when we enter orbit."
The human continued mumbling, knowing that his coworker will hear him anyway. "I'm the pilot for God's sake. You know how I get anxious not being allowed to get a clear look at my own machine for weeks now. 'No eva during acceleration for you', my ass. Who do they think we are?"
The captain of the ship Ežilekl sovan herself had apparently just entered the room, but did not pick up Iraklijs' complaints. "Let's talk about this later," he mouthed a brief and even quieter sentence. In the corridor where Ekut was, rapid and inhuman footsteps could be heard.
Iraklijs saluted his superior, Tekatl Ižal, as she entered the room. She was not a human. Rather, she was a satl, a kind of alien pseudo-reptile who walked on six splayed-out legs, almost resembling a gigantic insect in her posture. Small round gray scales covered her four-foot-long body, slightly darker on her belly and upper limbs, and almost-neon blue on the ridge of triangular fins that went from the tip of her tail along her spine up to the base of her neck, alongside smaller ridges on her lower limbs, all seemingly cut into various intricate patterns. Tekatl's head more resembled that of a dolphin rather than a lizard, mostly featureless except for a narrow snout with a single nostril. Her eyes were like those of the bquaa, completely black. She wore a sleek-looking dull-blue jumpsuit with silver accents, at the back of which was a large COMA logo.
The way satla moved was different from both reptiles and humans. It was an extremely fluid sort of gait, where all six of Tekatl's legs moved in unison, undulating alongside her body.
"Relaxing, I see, I see..." she said, and even though she spoke English there was a very growling quality to her voice. "Did you get your team in order yet, yet?"
Iraklijs shrugged. "Ask Spots and Lyiue about that, miss. I'm not the leader."
Tekatl squinted and leaned forwards slightly. "Aren't humans supposed to be all-all-rounded?"
"We are. But you're the one who assigned me in a subservient position, how would I know?"
"Why would you not, not?"
Iraklijs simply let out an exasperated sigh. It was merely part of the satla temperament to argue and confront over all such issues.
"Because it's not my job," he said.
Before Tekatl could respond, the door hissed again as it opened.
Spots slithered in. They were a bquaa with tan skin dotted with spots like that of a leopard, frequently shifting around or blinking. Covering most of their serpentine body, up to the neck, was a semitranslucent sleeve, glowing lines on which seemed to interlace with the ones on their body. Spots had even more implants than Iraklijs. Wires were barely concealed by their thin and mucuous skin, connecting various antennas, knobs, and lights all over their body.
"Hey there Spots," Iraklijs said, brightening up somewhat. The bquaa's wide mouth grinned as two of his tentacles waved in greeting. Tekatl, meanwhile, turned around like a startled cat and began talking to them in a simple, almost gurgling language that Iraklijs could not even begin to pronounce, much less understand. Then they left the room, still talking.
He sighed and pulled out his datapad to check the shipboard time. 34:00, according to the satla chronological system, where a day (okeš) had 36 hours (tineš) of 36 minutes (beš) of 36 seconds (tukš). One tukš corresponded to approximately two-and-a-half Terran seconds. A meeting of the archeological team was due in thirty minutes. Then, they all would get some good sleep; the planet was being approached very rapidly.
Iraklijs thought about how all he could call this world was 'the planet'. The 'real' name, 32-COMA-29-18.4, was so unpoetic, not to mention hard to memorize, that he simply could not accept it as something worthy of designating such an unique celestial body.
His train of thought was interrupted by a slight modulated buzzing in his pocket. "Oh right," he thought, "forgot about you."
The human reached in to retrieve a small pyramidal crystal, around the size of the palm of his hand. Its clear interior was occupied by a constant vortex-filled storm of misty multicolored clouds that formed into interlocking fractal gears, only to dissolve after a few seconds, glowing with a vibrant light that shimmered like a million diamonds, reflecting from some kind of unseen and ever-moving 'faults' inside the perfect tetrahedron.
An ethereal voice echoed from its depths. It did not sound synthesized, but rather as if the trickle of a forest waterfall formed words. "Please stay safe there," it said.
Iraklijs raised an eyebrow. "It's literally a barren world with a weird composition. It's actually less dangerous than Pluto or Greater Hades. Even softsuits are immune to glass shards, you know. I don't expect this to be anything more than a routine sample gathering op."
This crystal, whose true name was truly unpronounceable, was a personal aspect-shard made by Chimeras, and gifted to Iraklijs personally by a Chimera high priest for his part in excavating a lost city on their homeworld, 'Garden'. That was Iraklijs' first serious job, and he surprised everyone with his meticulousness and drive. From then on, the tetrahedron, which he nicknamed Altair (after the star that his mother's starship was orbiting when he was born), followed the archeologist everywhere on his many travels. First through a HUD-visor, then through a cybernetic eye, it saw the ash-choked skies of Greater Hades and its thinking-rock inhabitants; it watched its master fight swarms of death-worms in the hellish and garish jungles of Tayma; with him it braved a blizzard, a hurricane, and an earthquake on Shaugna (at the same time); and with him it crept through the flesh-lined halls of Yig's 'Paradise'. And more, and more, and more.
He smiled as he gazed at his friend's perfect 60-degree angles. "Zkeh says that since this place is so close to the Silent Empire, they likely did stuff here... which... eh..." he shrugged. "You know how the Silents are. The bquaa didn't even bother actually placing an outpost here because it's not like anything is coming from that direction."
"Remember my words," the crystal simply blinked yellow three times and fell silent.
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Thirty minutes of reading and quiet talking followed, and the rest of the team entered the room, while everyone else, unrelated to the planetary expedition, hastily exited.
Spots slithered in front, followed by Ekut. The lights dimmed and warmed somewhat, making the table appear as a yellowish island of illumination in a sea of twilight.
Ekut Karo was a kazi'il. She looked somewhat like a five-foot-long velociraptor with the features of a beaver: a very regular hide of short brown fur, decorated with blue zig-zag painted markings, stretched over a horizontal body on two curved legs, with a long, flat tail balancing a very forward-leaning torso. Said tail was, unlike beavers' tails, oriented like the fin of a fish. At the slightly upturned tip of her short snout was a dog-like black nose. Her catlike red eyes protruded forward slightly, and every few moments one or both eyes would rotate to face sideways for a brief instant. On her head were large, mouselike ears. She wore a simple greenish-grey jumpsuit with lots of little gadgets and tools mounted on clips, including a grappling hook pistol in a holster. Ekut moved with purpose and very monotonously.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Walking right behind her was Zkeh. His real name was Zkehziikchhaa Tkhezi, but nobody except other chohjozra could pronounce that jumble of growls properly. He looked like a two-meter alligator, only even bulkier and with eight limbs. Large, square scales were stretched over his muscular frame, and copper-infused claws tipped every single one of his nine extremities-- four legs, four arms, and a long, flexible tail-hand. In place of a snout, Zkeh had a large serrated yellow beak. His W-pupiled eyes, like those of cuttlefish, were fixed forwards in an unblinking gaze, and his pearlescent ear-fins were folded against the sides of his head. He wore lots of golden jewelry: round earrings, or rather fin-rings; various bands and chains around his body and limbs; and a massive octagonal sapphire pendant. This opulence also extended to his tools: aside from bedazzled chisels and analyzers, strapped to his back was a massive mattock, the finely-engraved construction and gold-leaf embroidery of which contrasted with pneumatic strike-enhancers and assorted other technological features.
And last behind the chohjozra was Tsip'lsal'suul, a kseldani. They were the exact opposite of the others in terms of bodily complexity: simply a scrawny, relatively humanoid being made of teal, opaque goo-like flesh. They resembled a markedly featureless bipedal reptile, with nary a scale or claw. Their skin was smooth and without any sort of blemishes or irregularities. A pair of sunglasses was perched on Tsip's bovine-like snout, its arms seemingly jammed into the ballistic-gel-esque material of their head in the absence of ears. Their only non-visual and non-olfactory sensory organs were a pair of floppy antennae, as bulbous as their fingers and bare toes. They wore a shiny black jumpsuit, as simplistic in design as their body.
Iraklijs stretched as he stood up. "Hello all, how was everyone's day?" he said as he took his seat right beside Spots, who coiled around the chair's back. He spoke first, even though Spots was the team lead; the bquaa liked giving everyone a word in before saying anything with their authority.
"All I will say is that none of you are taking this seriously enough," Ekut said as she balanced on the seat. "It may be a barren planet but it doesn't mean you can pack no weapons at all. We have procedure for a reason."
Zkeh unclipped and twirled the mattock as easily as if it was made of papier-mache. "I have a weapon!" he growled.
Ekut sighed. The sigh sounded more like a broken washing machine.
Spots tapped one of their tentacles on their chin. "We do not intend to bring any equipment that is not essential to the mission. Land, drive around, take measurements, take off, repeat until the planet is adequately surveyed. Spots repeats once again what Spots was repeating for a week now: Spots doesn't expect there to be anything that's not glass, glass, and more glass," a synthesized and somewhat feminine voice echoed in tandem with their mouth opening.
"I'll play the devil's advocate. How do you know?" Iraklijs said.
"Spots thinks they know what you are getting at, human friend. Are you asking Spots if we will find anything technogenic there? Any sort of installations would need to be of Silent origin. And this one's people, we proud bquaa unity, have dealt with those things for decades now. They would never leave their ecumenopolis-filled core."
"The cost for preparing anyway would have been negligible," Ekut said.
Iraklijs sighed. "I love my lander but it's a bitch to fit things into those equipment racks. Not really meant for human hands. Or things of so many civilizations' make. So I kind of understand."
Ekut shook her head. "Is some mild inconvenience worth the risk? We all have at least one of spouses, lovers, family, and friends."
Tsip, who had been completely motionlessly staring at one of the lamps, suddenly spoke, still not moving. "What could we expect to find there then," they spoke in monotone.
"We don't know," Spots said.
The meeting went on and on for the rest of the allotted time. The scant data about the planet prevented any sort of precise planning before they were in orbit, which frustrated Ekut to no end but certainly didn't faze Zkeh or Tsip much. It quickly segued into discussions about exact methodology, which segued into debates regarding the philosophy of exoarcheology, which transitioned into arguments about their respective homelands' cuisines, which were cut short by the timer's buzz, which cut off the discussion.
"...right, I think we need to get some sleep now," Iraklijs said and yawned. "Tomorrow will be a long day. For the record, Zkeh, I still think you should try rollmops."
"Earth fissh..." Zkeh hissed, "tasstes like rubber. But I might give... that a try, if you praisse it sso much."
"All this discussion did was make Spots wish to try everything," Spots' synth-voice echoed. "Thank the Tree for the enzymes."
"Unproductive, unproductive," Ekut tapped her hairy knuckles on the table, then hopped off the chair. She had tried her best and failed to keep the discussion on track, and knew it was lost when Spots themself sided with the derailers. When that happened, the kaziil sighed and silently lamented the fact that the person from the doormat-as-temperament species was assigned to be the leader. But she did participate in the later stages of the discussion. "I kindly ask you, Iraklijs, to not ask me if I gnaw wood again," she said as she paced towards the door.
Tsip had waited out the whole latter half of the debates. What they said after made up for everything. "Don't you guys have those mushrooms, the ones that grow in any bio..."
Ekut stopped in her tracks, while Tsip continued talking.
"I remember reading, maybe a few years ago, that they apparently taste well and are nutritious," he clutched his head. "Name translates as lung--"
The kaziil turned around slowly, like a tank turret. The glare she gave to the kseldani seemed as if it could reduce them to a fizzling puddle of teal goop. Spots stirred in their chair and emitted something resembling laughter, or perhaps a dying goose.
"Sorry!" Tsip bluted out, in a somewhat louder monotone.
The tense atmosphere gradually discharged as everyone followed into the away team's bunk room.
It was a rather drab, all-gray room, by the virtue of having to not offend any species' aesthetic sensibilities. Nevertheless, it was furnished better than any military crew could dream of: five fluffy, adjustable mattresses set in tall bunk-frames, very soft lighting, and even a spacious storage closet for each of the explorers' possessions. In addition, there were large viewscreens on the walls, showing the starry expanse of space. Still spartan compared to planetside accommodations, of course; this was no cruise starliner.
Iraklijs secured his belongings, then after finishing his usual evening routine he flopped onto bed, and let a dreamless sleep take him instantly.
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A loud, clattering noise followed by pained yelling jolted everyone awake at 4 AM shipboard time. Spots tumbled out of bed like a wet noodle and opened the door.
One of the ship's three doctors, Yangchen Dorji, had apparently tripped on an exposed (but thankfully insulated) cable. The bquaa hugged the man and helped him get back to his feet.
Yangchen's dark brown skin and oily black hair contrasted with the bright green photophores on his rounded cheeks, which somewhat illuminated the gloomy hallway. He wore a white jumpsuit with blue lines on it, fitting well over his slim body.
"Are you okay?" Spots intoned.
"M-maybe... I think I am..." he groaned.
"What are you doing running around the ship at this ungodly hour?"
"I thought I heard Snezhka meowing in distress somewhere around here," Yangchen said.
"Did Zkeh get to her?" Spots tilted their head.
The doctor chuckled. "I don't think she'd be meowing then. I remember the first day of the mission though... can't blame him, hunter's instincts and all that..."
A clambering could be heard above. The bquaa and the human looked upwards to see one of the vents on the ceiling start shaking. A fluffy white cat tumbled out and landed gracefully beside the loose vent cover.
"There she is," Yangchen lightly nudged Snezhka with his foot as she rubbed against it.
"Spots keeps wondering," the team lead said, "if the fur causes any problems with the filtration systems."
"There's a coating of keratin-eating enzymes on the various filters. Keyed to several bios."
"They really do keep finding new applications... Spots forgot. Since Chandra lost his arms, will you be our mission's doctor?" Spots coiled somewhat around his legs. "A vacancy is still open."
Yangchen cringed slightly as he remembered the maiming of his coworker during a freak coincidence, where during routine refuels at a bquaa station, raiders from the Deep Tide suddenly boarded it. Chandra certainly did not expect to lose two of his six limbs to a mutated dolphin in a miniature mech. Fortunately, the security detail of the Canid free-trader Yeremey was nearby, and their laser rifles turned the aquatic attacker into a crispy cetacean.
"Hmm... sure! I can drive a rover too if you need that."
Spots snorted. "We will be spared from Tsip's awful driving. Tsip steers with the finesse of an uqolp in a swamp."
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Jul 20 2234
The bquaa went back to sleep, and they woke up together alongside the rest of the away team. After taking care of themselves, they went to dine together, having to climb a ladder up to reach the mess hall.
The beleaguered cook, a towering black-bear genemod who everyone called 'Rusty', already knew the preferences of each of the five, and prepared the meals in advance. Everyone ate quickly, with Iraklijs almost dropping his sauerkraut on the floor while milk dribbled down his chin.
"These are the last of the Terran food crate," Rusty growled. "Lasted a while. Had to chuck the dairy into the cryo."
"I actually still have some delicacies stashed away in my locker... but other than those I don't look forward to eating shitnoodles or cancerfish for the rest of the mission," Iraklijs wiped his lips. "I suppose alien food is an option... I love relmai cuisine."
It was no surprise that the culinary arts were a common topic of discussion on large, multispecies-crew ships like this. Every culture, even the most alien ones, liked to eat well, and the differing tastes only served to keep the debates fresh and tender. Often, it was one of the few common grounds between different species.
In the days before First Contact, many authors speculated that extraterrestrials would be impossible to comprehend or communicate with, but that was, in all frankness, overcompensation for earlier speculations about aliens being merely humans with slightly different features. While simple statistics meant that human faces or even proportions were impossible, all sapient species lived on planets within certain ranges of mass, pressure, and temperature. This meant that there were only so many optimal numbers and types of limbs, and only so many ways to comprehend the world. When environments have any sort of commonalities, so will the minds that emerge in them.
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After breakfast was done, they gathered, alongside most of the off-shift crew, in the Ežilekl's entertainment center, the emptiness of which would amplify its meager size if not for the automatically-raised floor tiles that formed a makeshift viewing stand. The massive screen covering most of the opposite wall displayed a composite view of the ship's exterior cameras.
There it was, the 'world of glass'.
It inched ever-so-slowly towards the dozens of viewers. Even now, when it covered perhaps twenty percent of the screen, its features were apparent. Gleaming in the triple sunlight, its surface was as bizarre as it was over half a century ago. Those same ragged clouds. Those same transparent splotches of orange and green.
Iraklijs hugged Ekut as they stood beside each other, watching the glass planet approach. Altair was softly blinking blue in his pocket, indicating a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Suddenly, Tekatl's voice echoed from somewhere in the front, clearly amplified by a megaphone.
"I, as the captain of this vessel, name this celestial body... Hakošel."
Spots chimed in. They had picked up a bit of the satla language. "'Hakoš'... vitreous. '-el'... place."