[Avalon]
Anxiety pervaded me as I watched Captain Brand disappear into the shielded tunnels. He wants me to be the one to reach out and make amends? To act professionally and put my feelings aside? I’ve displayed nothing but utmost professionalism during my interactions with Dominique! He’s the one that bit back at me, acting like I was a monster trying to control him! Never has the captain been so cruel in his orders, but now he wasn’t even bothering with the situation, treating the ordeal as if it were a squabble between children!
Ugh
Shifting my attention over to Dominique, I found him still lounging in the room I had him sent to. ‘Highway to Hell’ was blasting through the room’s speakers, loud enough to give temporary deafness to those with unmodified ears. Fortunately nobody was in near proximity, but there was no doubt that he was still disturbing everyone on that half of the ship. I quickly turned it down to a low hum, much to his dismay. Not a great start.
“Dominique, the captain wants you planetside for a check-up and therapy. I’ve marked you a spot on the next outgoing transport.”
“That was my therapy you just muted, asshole.”
“Oh? Could you please supply the study proving ancient rock music’s therapeutic benefits?”
Sarcasm was not the correct path for ‘mending a relationship,’ but it was difficult to keep a calm mind when every word of his chafed against my patience. The captain’s exact order didn’t necessarily specify expected results, but perhaps at least some sort of effort should be made?
“Listen, Dominique, Captain plans for us to be working together in the future. He requested that I repair our relationship and, considering I’m only still here with his permission, I’d like to somehow get that done. Could you at least tell me where to start? I’m a bit new to this.”
He took on a look of contemplation, glancing around the room and searching for nothing in particular. He seemed…distant, likely preoccupied with his own thoughts. After a few moments, his shoulder slumped along with a sigh.
“...Look, man… uh, man, right?”
I nodded using the surveillance camera.
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“The last couple days have been the most stressful period of my entire damn life. I just have too much shit to sift through in my head, and having someone like you poking in does no favors. You want a start? Stay the hell away from my head, and just leave me alone for now.”
…
“Will you be attending the thera-”
“Yes! I will! Goddamn!”
Satisfied with that, I moved on to the next task the captain left me with. The alien that Dominique kept in tow, he’d referred to him as… Dokchara? Normally, tedious safety procedures would need to be taken to allow a foreign individual onto this ship, but I wasn’t going to enforce those after he had personally vouched for the alien.
I found him also still in the room I had sent them to. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands held together on his lap while he stared down into nothingness. The food that had been delivered to his room shortly after their arrival, a medley of roasted vegetables accompanied by rice, sat untouched on the table in the room. He had been supplied with clothes using the scanned measurements, but they were left in a corner of the room while he was still in his dirty, burnt and torn guard uniform. Quickly skimming through the room’s recordings, I found that he hadn’t moved from that position this entire time, barring walking to the door to receive his food.
“Dokchara, can you hear me?”
That at least got him to look up slightly, but he didn’t offer a verbal response. I needed him to be more cooperative than this, and I really didn’t want to have to send people to drag him out and onto the transport.
“Dokchara, please respond. I’m trying to get help for you.”
“...Help me? …A bit late for that. Heh.”
________________
[Captain Nathaniel Brand]
“And it’s no secret that the Meldren’s system is a bit… ‘sparse’ when it comes to heavy metals. As outlined in the contract, we aren’t asking you to reveal the secrets of your weaponry, we just want your guaranteed participation on this side in exchange for these materials.”
Auell’s pitch was solid. It’s true that our prospecting efforts returned poor results, and although they had no way of knowing this, our elemental transmutation process required immense amounts of energy and logistical ability. The required warp-network and Dyson sphere needed to achieve even minimal production were not only months away in the list of projects to get done, but they also required the heavy metals that we are so lacking in, resulting in a catch-22 scenario.
The inclusion of not needing to divulge our technology was also an appealing clause. The labcoats observed a strange phenomenon when comparing our technology to what the alien races had available. They theorized that because these races were able to directly observe alien life early in their development, thanks to being part of this cluster of life, the majority of their history was spent studying space-travel instead of warfare. To them, nuclear fission was the byproduct of developing rocket propulsion while for us, it was a result of and solution to one of our many wars.