Dzor snaps his eyes open. His gaze clears and falls on a blue-painted surface with trapezoidal waves in its surface. The structure and paint are alien to him. It’s certainly far from the sleek and elegant surfaces of his or any other Fievegal warship.
He instantly looks around. He’s in an enclosure with no apparent openings or viewports. He isn’t alone, though. Khla’s hatchling is sitting against a wall across the length from him. She’s calm and collected, but he notices her ankles and wrists are bound together.
Dzor looks at his own wrists and ankles. Strange, metal loops interlinking each other are wrapped around his wrists and ankles, same as hers, but his are also anchored to the floor. Additionally, insulated cables snake their way up the links, connecting to fabric pads at his shoulders and hips.
The technology of his captivity COULD suggest a few known races, but the pungent odor surrounding everything like a thick moss fog is unmistakably mammalian. And, given recent events, it is a scent that will always raise his blood pressure.
Dzor growls, “[Craw, are you awake?]”
She opens her eyes and smiles gently. She replies warmly, “[Yarjen, you’re okay. I’m relieved.]”
“[Relieved?]” he growls. “[We are captives! How long?]”
“[Three days, Yarjen. According to the humans.]”
He grumbles angrily, “[It’s likely a trick. We must try to collect our senses.]”
Khla replies hesitantly, “[I… don’t think they intend to deceive us, Yarjen. They haven’t interrogated anyone, as far as I know.]”
“[There are others!? How many!? We may yet flense these pathetic…]”
“[Yarjen!]” urges Khla desperately. He halts long enough for her to say cautiously, “[At least one human can understand our speech. But, more importantly, they saved us from our doomed wrecks.]”
The Baskylla Jardzen growls, “[I don’t care if they birth the next Saurmynnyka of their own free will. They are beasts, livestock. The fact we had to stoop as low as attempting to harvest viable children from this race of ALL the races in the universe disgusts me. I REFUSE to be their captive.]”
Dzor yanks to rip his pathetic shackles from their anchors with ease. ‘Clink!’
The metal links jingle, but the anchors hold. Surprised, Baskylla Jardzen Dzor flexes his well-rested muscles. Perhaps this task won’t be QUITE as easy as he thought. He shifts his body, readying all of the strength of his back to pull.
‘Thump-creak!’ The linked metal loops still won’t give, nor the anchors. Only Dzor’s buttocks armor on the floor screeches lightly as he slides.
Dzor is baffled. These filthy apes should have no idea how strong he is. Khla urges, “[Yarjen…!]”
He roars, “[Silence!]” Dzor begins to thrash, snarling and growling as his frustration grows. He will not be captive, slave, or livestock to these barbaric, hairy animals. He flops and writhes, making calamitous noise as he tries every angle he can get on the bindings.
Metal screeches. Dzor halts long enough to inspect his shackles and his surroundings. In that time, he sees the wall to their enclosure seemingly open like a hinged door. Dzor realizes that this low-tech box is simplistic, but does contain a way out. Excellent.
Three humans are standing at the opening, casting shadows against the bright light beyond. Dzor waits for the center human to step inside. The tiny mammal takes a few steps, inspecting both Grodrrns.
In a blindingly fast ambush movement, using all of his power, Dzor launches his jaws at the human’s pathetic head. His jaws snap shut with a thunderous pound of his teeth. The two flanking humans, one armed with a Grodrrn blaster and the other carrying little more than a small stick and white leafing, fall as they leap back in surprise.
However, Dzor’s jaws did not close flat through a human skull. The center human stands a scale’s-breadth out of reach of the superior being’s jaws. It didn’t even flinch.
The human says in its weak, liquid voice, “You’re awake I see. Good. I’d like you to answer some questions. I understand you’re the commanding officer.”
Enraged, Dzor relaxes just enough back as he tensions his jaws again. He loosens his muscles and tries to position his joints for maximum reach. He roars ferociously as he leaps his whole body against his bindings, forcing his jaws out as far as he can, even through pain in his joints. His jaws snap shut. Nothing. He chomps again and again, trying to wriggle even that tiny bit of extra distance.
The human with the weapon fearfully aims, but it holds fire. The center human still doesn’t flinch or yield. It is calm and confident the primitive bindings will hold.
Dzor pants as his energy gives, and he glares hatefully at the mammal. It introduces itself, “My name is Lieutenant Carmine Kane of the Starliner Polonia. To my left is Ensign Rex Hancock, and to my right is Doctor Levine Lopez. I have already met Helmdraff Claw, and I understand you are… a Yarjen, correct?”
Dzor simply snorts.
Kane replies, “Very well. Yarjen, I’d like to explain your situation. We captured you after the front half of your ship joined us in our escape. We rescued as many of your cosmonauts as we could, including Helmdraff Claw. But, many, we couldn’t reach quickly enough. I’m sorry.”
Dzor doesn’t respond. Kane continues, “As you undoubtedly know, we’re overloaded as is, but we don’t want to jettison anyone. That includes you and your crew. However, if we’re all going to survive, I’d like to ask you and your crew for help.”
This time, Dzor scoffs. The human would have to be delusional to believe Dzor would allow such an affront.
But, Kane keeps going, “We’re obviously aware of the EMP now. We’re working on that. Dr. Lopez is also figuring out your gravimetric pulse generator. But, how do you actually navigate? Do you have star maps? How do you identify resources from range?”
Dzor smugly says nothing. Let the humans suffer. Let them know a sunless night.
Again, though, Kane speaks, “Yarjen, is everything I’ve said making sense? I can clarify acronyms if you don’t understand.”
Dzor repositions himself to a seated position that still makes him taller than all three humans. He growls amusedly, “Whut ayy no oonderstond, is how yuu conveensed ayy teel yuu onnytheeng. [What I no understand, is how you convinced I tell you anything.]”
Kane replies, his voice unchanged, “I’m convinced you want to survive as well.”
“Deeth for feevgahll prifeered. [Death for Fievegal preferred.]”
“We didn’t choose to be your enemies, Jor. And now, we just want to survive. Without us, you die in the vacuum of space, too. Without you, we lose too many of our people.”
“Yuu mooss theenk ayy stuhpeed, hoomin. Ayy noteess yuu pair ayy weeth feemahl. Yuu hope yuu breed ooss leek leevstuck. Juke on me. [You must think I stupid, human. I notice you pair I with female. You hope you breed us like livestock. Joke on me.]” Dzor fakes a slow, deep laugh, mocking the primitive mammals.
The human’s face twists. Dzor hopes it’s rage. He dares this pathetic primitive to challenge him.
However, Kane replies, still very little change in its voice, “‘Joke’s on you’, is how you should have said it. You’re making fun of ME.”
Dzor snorts in disgust.
Kane continues, “However, Yarjen; I believe I have gathered enough knowledge from brief conversations to know it would do no good, would it? If I’ve gathered correctly, your race, or at least most of the Grodurns, are sterile.”
Dzor narrows his eyes in a glare. This human knows a little too much. Did either Khla give up the primary weakness of the Grodrrns?
Kane continues on a different thought, “Actually, Helmdraff Claw was the only one of the other survivors who didn’t want to kill you.”
Surprised, this time, Dzor looks at the young female pilot. She nods uneasily, giving truth to the human’s claim. But, it’s impossible. How could his entire crew -the survivors- want him dead?
Kane adds, “We needed to double you all up for space, and we were going to have to put you with who we believe was your navigator, as his death threats were the most… mild. Claw volunteered.”
“KRAW,” growls out Dzor. “Yuu prenonce leek hotchleeng feen, boot yuu WEEL prenonce nom currick. [You pronounce like hatchling fine, but you WILL pronounce name correct.]”
Kane pauses. He looks at Khla and replies, “Helmdraff Kraw, my sincerest apologies. I mixed up spelling and pronunciation.”
Dzor frowns when Khla smiles softly, and she replies, “Zjur-zja. F-fur-geev. [Zsur’zsa. F-for-give.]”
Kane answers, “Thank you. Yarjen, I’m not here to torture you. I’m not going to manipulate or extort you. We need to know how…”
Dzor, having had a moment to ponder his resentful crew and the young female who stood up for him in spite of everything, cuts Kane off, “Teel heem. [Tell him.]” He looks at Khla.
She’s surprised, and understandably so. For her, playing dumb or subordinate is an acceptable position. If the humans don’t already know how to navigate, it means even Khla said nothing.
Dzor says in the Grodrrn tongue, “[The human’s right. Cooperation will keep us alive. Perhaps we can find a crack in this shell.]” He then looks at Kane, adding deliberately, “[I will not be your prisoner forever, hoomin.]”
The human’s face twists to the same expression as before. No, it’s definitely not rage. It must be some form of pleasure, perverse or otherwise. He replies, “I’m hoping not, Yarjen.” He then turns to the unarmed human, saying, “Doctor, ready?”
The ‘Doctor’ nods, handing something to the armed human. The armed human, Hancock; reads, “Do you have a… navigational constant you use? If so, what value?”
Khla answers, glancing at Dzor to ensure it’s okay. “Nuu. Moost tree-an-a-lot poozeeshen frawm knoon stahr. [No. Must triangulate position from known star.]”
“Tree-an-a-lot?” asks Hancock. Dr. Lopez tries to whisper, but it’s easily audible to Dzor in the enclosed space, “Triangulate.”
“Ah!” replies Hancock. Lopez scribbles on her leafings, showing Hancock. Hancock adds, “How, Helmdraff? Or…” He watches the smallest human scribble more. He continues, “Or, what if there are no stars you can identify?”
Dzor scoffs, muttering, “Nuu ritorn hoommm. [No return home.]” He chuckles.
Khla nods uneasily. Kane adds with his amused look, “Fortunately, that wasn’t in our plans.”
Khla adds, “Stahrz keen bee eedinteefid bih seensour, speecifeek, poolss. [Stars can be identified by sensor, specifical(ly), pulse.]”
Hancock remarks, “You mean the gravimetric pulse?” His question halts Lopez in her scribbling possibly for the same question.
Dzor growls before Khla can respond, “Graav-ee-aw-neek, yuu sawveej. [Gravionic, you savage.]” He scoffs, asking, “[How did these primitives get this far?]”
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Kane replies to Dzor’s Grodrrn and rhetorical question, “By refusing to simply give up. We want to live. Same as you. You haven’t demanded we swap Kraw for any of your other crew yet.”
Dzor looks away from the human. Being patronized by a primitive; this truly is the lowest point of Dzor’s life.
Khla explains, “Grahv-ee-awnik poolse yuuz grahv-ee-metrik ond bee-pawlor ee-awnik ryauctshoons tuu deeturmeen deestance, cawmpoozeeshoon, ond seeze. [Gravionic pulse use(s) gravimetric and bipolar ionic reactions to determine distance, composition, and size.]”
The most primitive of the three, Hancock, objects, “That doesn’t make sense. Ions can’t travel that fast.”
Just before Khla can reply, Lopez murmurs, “The ions don’t travel, Hancock. The gravimetric wave must induce the reactions. But, the ionic reactions then likely distort and reflect the gravimetric wave.” She scribbles and whispers, “Ask her which ions they target.”
Dzor growls in Grodrrn, “[Can the small one not simply ask the questions? My last scale will come if not.]”
Kane replies, “Do you have somewhere to be, Yarjen?”
Dzor glares at the human for a moment. But, resigned to his current situation, the big Grodrrn sighs and lays his head back, listening passively as Khla answers the small human’s questions, transmitted via the armed human’s mouth.
The humans may stink, have primitive means, and radiate arrogance now that they have the momentary upper hand, but at least their fragile voices are easy enough to tune out.
Nevertheless, Dzor will need to bide his time and ready his strength.
********
Captain Long is waiting for Lieutenant Kane outside of the secure zone formed by a refurbished stargazer deck where the conex boxes containing the Grodrrns have been placed. No unauthorized personnel are allowed inside the stargazer deck to ensure the reptilian aliens don’t overhear any important conversations.
He salutes her as he exits, and she returns the salute, saying, “At ease, Lieutenant. Did he believe you?”
Kane nods, “Yes Captain. I think Grodurns tend to be more honest and direct than us. Helmdraff Kraw nodded in confirmation on her own, and that was it.”
“You sure he’s not just playing along?” she asks. “We’re gambling a lot on them cooperating.”
“Helmdraff Kraw will. I’m confident of that. And, I think Yarjen Jor is honest as well. He was rather candid and disrespectful once he started talking. He doesn’t seem afraid of death, but he doesn’t want to die. I think he wants us to squirm while he tries to escape and fight.”
“Should we increase security?” asks the Captain cautiously.
“I don’t think it’s necessary, Captain. He might break his chains and escape the box, but he’s not a bullet sponge right now. He won’t be that reckless.”
Long crosses her arms as she smirks at him. “You want to try to win them over, don’t you? Make them a part of the crew?”
Kane scoffs, “God willing, yes. They know the stars. We don’t. And, Jor himself found Marvoni, Lopez, and Hancock during Mission Zero. I think that particular seven hundred pounds of muscle might be willing, if not itching, to face real danger. And, Grodurn shock troops are clearly trained for new world drops.”
Captain Long giggles, teasing, “Quite the pitch, Lieutenant. Honestly, I’m cautiously optimistic if you are. But, we’re a long way from me being comfortable with your seven hundred pounds of muscle roaming free. For now, keep questioning them as much as they’ll answer.”
“Of course, Ma’am. And, I’ve confirmed a working hypothesis.”
“Which is?”
“Most of the Grodurn race, if not all, are sterile.”
Surprised, Long asks, “So, they’re,… what? Like a beehive?”
“Still working on it, but I think so.”
“What higher lifeform would function that way?”
“I think… it was intentional. Again, still gathering tidbits, Captain, but Kraw hinted when we met that ‘hubris’ is responsible for the state of their race, as well as their desperation to succeed in their mission.”
“What mission, though?” asks Long with frustration. It’s still difficult to understand the motivations.
Kane replies, unsure, “I don’t know. Somehow, they seem to believe our children are the key to undoing whatever it is.”
“What, like they grow up into scientists for them?”
Kane nods, “That’s the most sensible goal.”
Frustrated and a little angry, Long asks, “But, why not our adult scientists? The ones ACTUALLY capable of… virology, or genetics, or whatever?”
“It could be darker, Captain. They could believe that eating our children will have some sort of religious or spiritual affect. Jor wasn’t happy when I determined his race is sterile. They refuse to answer any direct questions about it, including Kraw.”
“What if we offered to help them willingly?”
Kane shakes his head, “Tried it. Either they didn’t trust me, or their pride won’t allow it at this point. Jor, especially, is extremely prideful.”
Long gently massages her temple, remarking, “I don’t understand them. They attack us, try to kidnap us, cost us our home… all supposedly to save their race, but refuse us trying to understand?”
“We’re lesser beings to them, Ma’am. They clearly thought their mission would be easier than it was. I suspect we’re not the first race they’ve attempted to conquer. And, I imagine we might be the first to escape.”
Long scoffs, replying dryly, “Happy to do my part.” It’s still bittersweet with so much lost only right behind them. She sighs, though, and says more warmly, “Alright. Let’s keep our momentum. Lieutenant, find us a planet to start. I’ll go see to our repairs.”
Kane salutes again, “Yes, Ma’am.”
********
“[Krih’huln, this is an unfortunate lack of superiority. Not only has the Fievegal lost three battleships to a race of monkeys, but you have failed to capture even a single useful human.]”
Niolayt Jardzen Mrff watches the Baskylla Khlychlln shrink a little under the Sun Rokynn’s stern words. But, Zhynnyz tries to defend himself, “[Suun Rokinn, two of the battleships were destroyed by…]”
Sun Rokynn Vurd’chlok Chull Brrd’chn growls, “[Silence, Krih’huln! Were you not bondmate to a Haeroshaw, you would already be on your way to a primitive world.]” Brrd flexes his jaw, recovering posture of the left side. His jaw’s left side was long ago paralyzed by the Mureeks, an aquatic race conquered by the Grodrrns for the healing properties of one of the herbs there. Brrd’s jaw was paralyzed permanently by the venom the Mureeks use in their weapons, and now it often misaligns as he talks.
Brrd asks Mrff, “[NONE of the humans your crew captured can reproduce, Neolate Yarjen?]”
Mrff stands tall, replying honestly, “[Not so far, Suun Rokinn. And, not for lack of trying. Some of the captured females insist they are still capable of bearing, but our experts are rather confident we have only captured parasites.]”
The Sun Rokynn replies calmly, “[Be that the case, do not discard all of them, Neolate Yarjen. They may yet yield secrets useful to us.]”
“[Of course, Suun Rokinn. If they do not yield results in a standard breeding cycle, we were going to weed them out by incentive. These humans were very quick to turn on their own for self-gain, including those imprisoned with them.]”
Brrd replies calmly, “[Make it so, Neolate Yarjen.]”
“[As you wish, Suun Rokinn.]”
“[Also, Neolate Yarjen, what is the status of Baskilla Yarjen Craw?]”
Mrff pauses. Khla said nothing following the jump. Both Dzor’s disappearance and his Zhi’s were devastating for him. It’s one thing for a Grodrrn to die in combat. It’s an honor. But, to be so helpless to avoid oblivion… No race deserves that. Even harder is being the one to watch it happen, also helpless to save friends and family.
Mrff replies calmly and gently, “[Baskilla Yarjen Craw has retired to his quarters, Suun Rokinn. He has not come out since.]”
Brrd nods. “[Very well. If he still has his teeth, inform him that he is under probation. No restrictions.]”
Mrff’s own spirit rises a little at that declaration. That means the Fievegal command has reviewed the battle reports and concluded Khla, at the very least, was not at fault, and his reports were not heeded as the warnings they should have been. Additionally, “Probation, no restrictions” simply means he has a blue flag on his profile, mandating closer inspection if he sustains another catastrophic defeat, looking for a history of recklessness. While the Fievegal won’t broadcast it to the lesser Yarjens, Khlychlln Zhynnyz will be lucky if he gets no restrictions on his probation, even with his bondmate being a Haerroczaa, one of the highest Grodrrns in the Fievegal under the Saurmynnyka herself.
Mrff replies calmly, “[I will inform him, Suun Rokinn.]”
Brrd nods, and Mrff disconnects. He turns to find one of the young orderlies waiting for him. “[What is it?]” asks Mrff.
“[Neolate Yarjen, it’s the Baskilla Yarjen. He won’t respond. I’ve tried to give him second meal, but he won’t eat. This is four in a row.]”
Mrff nods. He makes his way to Khla’s quarters. The room is unsurprisingly locked. Mrff pounds on the door, growling, “[Kraw! Open up. It’s Murf.]”
No response.
“[Kraw, as Duty Yarjen, I’m enacting life safety protocol. Open up or I’m opening it.]”
Still nothing. What Mrff is about to do is frowned upon, as he could hurt himself and damage the ship. But, no Niolayt Jardzen has ever been punished under this kind of circumstance.
Mrff growls, “[Stand back,]” to the orderly. She quickly takes a few steps back. He flexes his shoulders, loosening up as he readies himself. Like Dzor, Mrff is an impressive specimen of size and strength. Not many Grodrrns can force a locked air-tight door open. Mrff has done it once before.
The Niolayt Jardzen grips the door and surges all of his strength. His blood pressure skyrockets. A bone could break, his spine could pop, or a blood vessel could burst. All of which are why he only gets one shot before they have to cut the door off.
A loud pop fires off like a gunshot, startling the orderly. A piece of the lock ricochets up the hall. The door slams open into its cutout, revealing Khla’s destroyed quarters inside. Mrff relaxes, feeling his arms soften near instantly to seaweed-like consistency. But, the door is open.
The orderly tries to briskly make her way inside to check on Khla, but Mrff puts his noodly arm up to stop her. The room isn’t destroyed because of the battle. It has been clawed apart by an enraged Grodrrn.
Mrff spots Khla in a seated position, clutching something. The Niolayt Jardzen slowly walks in, cautiously approaching the quiet Baskylla Jardzen.
Once close enough, Mrff can see that Khla is holding a tiny jewel of resin, and he knows instantly what is cast inside. It’s a tiny tooth. Khla is staring at it distantly and silently.
Many Grodrrn Chulm’chns keep the egg tooth of their hatchlings, a tribute to the tiny Grodrrn’s first trial; entering the world. It serves as both a point of pride for the Chulm’chn, who successfully kept the egg safe through to hatching, and for the hatchling, who proved capable of solving the first test all Grodrrns must pass on their own. Plenty of Chulm’chns helped their hatchlings open their shells, which was never illegal, but dangerous to the hatchling. But, never is a Chulm’chn more proud than one who watches the hatchling successfully crack open and poke through their shell on their own, looking up at their Chulm’chn for the first time with big, bright eyes.
Khla growls distantly and coldly, “[Leave me, Murf. I’m done.]”
Mrff stands by in a show of respectful, but defiant protest.
Khla adds, slightly more angrily, “[Did you hear me? It’s gone. My drive is gone. Go away.]”
Mrff grunts bluntly, “[No.]”
Khla explodes to his feet, snarling, “[THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR ME! I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO TELL ME! THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS IS GONE!]”
This is why Mrff stopped the orderly. Khla lowers himself as he growls a primal, furious growl. Khla snarls, “[Nothing to lose but life…]”
Mrff’s posture doesn’t start as combative, but he was ready. Khla lunges at him, blinded by the fury still racing in his veins. Mrff dodges to the side, parrying a vicious following claw. He knees Khla in the chest, avoiding another attack right after.
Mrff could kill Khla right now and assume command. MANY Niolayt Jardzens have moved up that way. Or, he could have left Khla in the wallowing mess he found him in. Khla would’ve eventually done the hard part himself.
But, Mrff knows. He knows there are much worse things than staying subordinate to an otherwise excellent Baskylla Jardzen. He knows other officers would respect him for the wrong reasons; because he would be just like too many of them. And, he knows exactly what Khla is feeling.
Mrff may have just broken a door Grodrrns aren’t supposed to be able to break, but Khla is on 4 missed meals and no sleep. The Niolayt Jardzen trades only a few successful blows before he shoves Khla hard, slamming him against the wall next to the door, startling the orderly again. Her job is difficult because she must stand by and bear witness.
Mrff kicks Khla in the chest before the ferocious Jardzen can claw back to his feet. Khla coughs, panting hard from his rage, but struggling to catch his breath and rise. He slowly slumps, calming down. Mrff towers over him, ready to continue, if Khla can’t calm himself. A claw mark on Mrff’s chin drips blood, while Khla’s shoulder trickles some of his own.
Khla finally pants out a sane question, “[What… What am I supposed to do?]”
Mrff looks at the orderly, growling, “[Leave us.]”
“[Y-Yarjen, I…]”
Mrff storms toward her, chasing her out of the room. He finds more orderlies and officers in the hallway, nervously eavesdropping and gawking.
Mrff booms, “[LEAVE!]”
The hallway scrambles clear of Grodrrns, and Mrff walks back in, closing the door. He says gruffly, but calmly, “[Same as I did. Find her.]”
Khla shakes his head, clutching his precious Zhi’s encased egg tooth, “[She’s gone, Murf. There’s nothing to find…]”
Mrff takes a seat next to Khla, replying, “[Didn’t stop me. I had to KNOW. Sure, I found him dead, but my Myzh died a warrior. I could live with that. Find her. KNOW what became of her.]”
Khla puts his head down in his hands, “[I don’t know if I ca-can handle finding her d-… d-…]” He can’t finish the thought.
Mrff scoffs, laughing. Khla looks up at him, distraught. But, Mrff remarks, “[The humans spared her once.]”
“[There’s no way… They don’t have the technology to survive the jump.]”
Mrff laughs again, remarking warmly, “[After the hell those tiny scaleless put us through, you actually believe that?]”
Khla’s eyes widen. He asks, “[W-… Would they really keep… Neezha? Sh-she’s…]”
Mrff replies bluntly, “[Only one way to find out, Yarjen.]”
Khla looks at the tiny tooth again. The powerful human looked him in the eyes and gave his Zhi back without any real demands. Why her of all the troops sent to Earth?
Khla’s not overly spiritual himself, but he has a new spirit as he wearily climbs to his feet. He asks, “[Am I relieved of Yarjen?]”
Mrff jokes, “[Unfortunately; no, Yarjen. No Makczi status for you.]”
Khla sighs contentedly. He remarks softly, “[You’ve stood up to me twice already. Do I still hold your respect?]”
Mrff flexes as he stands up. “[We would each be dead long ago in any other company, Yarjen.]”
Khla nods in agreement. “[Thank you, Neolate Yarjen.]”
Mrff simply and respectfully nods.
********