---Brave---
---Emiko’s perspective---
“This is a bad idea…” opines the tall, redheaded man dressed in civvies with an outdoorsy look, rather than his uniform, and with two stick bundles slung across his back, as the six of us make our way from the Swift Claw across the cyan coloured grass field (that reeks of rotten meat) to the wooden walls ringing with sounds of alarm bells and shouting men, our empty hands raised to the sky.
“Your objection was noted and overruled, Victor(!)” I chuckle “Right now, you are not here in your capacity as Chief Security Officer, you are here representing Tcakqaal and the interests of the Bright Plume! Oh… and as a stick deliveryman(!)”
He grumbles.
I turn to Yasmin and ask “How confident are you with their language?”
Excitedly, she smiles “Oh, understanding them should be no problem! Though… I'm slightly less confident about making myself understood… That recording of the boy was the kind of thing that could go right in a textbook! I might, actually, ask him if he’s happy for me to put it in the textbook I plan to eventually write! Perfect distillation of history, culture and quasireligious beliefs, presented in the language of the culture! Definitely helps to already be fluent in all the component languages but… there were some interesting little tricks and combinations that tripped me up, somewhat!… Jae and I had a fantastic time analysing it together, last night!”
“OK, good… You did sleep, right?” I ask.
She laughs “Jae made me go to bed… I got some sleep!”
“*sigh*… I’ll take it(!)” I answer.
Downside of seeking out the best in the galaxy, you get all their quirks and foibles too!
We stop, 30m or so from the gate, our hands still held above our heads.
The band of men two dozen or so strong gathered atop the gate, some holding bows, others manning ballistae, look very perturbed!
Of course, they would be!
You’re living in a rural agrarian society and someone tears out of the sky in a spaceship(!)
We can just think of this as a trial run for our final destination… these people will at least recognise us (more or less) as being the same species as them… they at least know that they aren’t alone in the universe (even if they don’t quite know how much company they have, just yet!)
The men look to eachother, no one seeming to want to be the first one to speak.
I decide to take the initiative “Good people of Malbork! My name is Emiko ‘Smiles’ Miyazaki! I stand here representing the United Terran Coalition! We ask forgiveness for the distress we unintentionally caused your community yesterday evening and request entrance to your town, that we may parley with your leaders to negotiate the reestablishment of contact between this settlement and the wider UTC!”
As I shout, Yasmin shouts just a little louder than me and on just a little bit of a delay, translating my words into her approximation of their language. I only recognise a few words bar ‘Malbork’ and my own name.
There is a pause before one of the bow wielders takes it upon himself to speak, shouting back words I have no hope of understanding myself!
“He’s asking if this is the Ratunek.”
“I believe that ‘Ratunek’ is an appropriate term, in your language, for what I hope to be achieved or, at least, commenced today!” I answer.
Here, another man speaks.
“He’s asking if it’s true that we killed a ‘bane’… I assume he’s talking about the dead thing in the background of the video…” translates Yasmin.
“My associate here, Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor, was forced to kill a large, predatory animal in self defence, when he and his team conducted their preliminary landing yesterday, yes! This act was necessary to the preservation of life and no disrespect of your culture or local ecosystem was intended!” I say, Yasmin mirroring my gesture to Victor.
I sort of hedged my bets, apologising, in case they consider the animals religiously significant or necessary to the ecosystem's health… I’d guess not, if they call them ‘banes’, but you can’t be too careful!
The second man speaks again.
“He’s asking to see the ‘sunsword’…” translates Yasmin.
I hesitate.
I relented in allowing Victor to bring his plasmaweapon, swayed by the events of yesterday, but “My associate has that weapon with him… However, the effect can be a little overwhelming… I just want to assure you that there is no ill intent and request restraint on your parts if that weapon is to be demonstrated!” i.e. don’t fucking shoot us because you got scared of the weapon that you asked to see(!)
There’s a brief discussion among the guards before the first one answers.
“He says you will not be fired upon and requests again to see the weapon…” relays Yasmin.
Bracing myself for some very disconcerted faces, I say “Alright, Victor… go ahead.”
The large man draws his sword from his hip and there’s a palpable moment of disappointment as, at first, it just looks like a long (admittedly elegant looking) sword, made of shiny metal.
Clearly, a few of them have thoughts along the lines of ‘That’s what all the hype was about?!’
Then, Victor ignites it! The disappointment turns to terror as the metal glows through to white and roars from the fusion energy being unnaturally forced into it!
“Alright… I think they get the picture, Victor(!)” I say, mirthfully (and relieved that they were good to their word of not being terrified enough to shoot us!)
Victor sheaths his sword, followed by a long pause before a third man shouts something.
“He’s asking if it’s true that we had a 2.2m tall, four armed woman with blue skin and… err… I guess the best approximation would be ‘vampire fangs’?” conveys Yasmin.
“There was such a woman on yesterday’s expedition, though, I must assure you, there is nothing sinister about her, however she may have appeared to the boy who had the misfortune to encounter us! Her kind’s existence is one of the many things we hope to discuss with your leaders!”
There is much muttering at that.
Yasmin translates as best as she can “That one’s saying they shouldn’t let us in because we might be Demons… That one’s saying if we wanted in, we could have flown the ship over the walls or cut through them with the plasmasword… That one’s musing about whether Demons might need to be invited in… He’s pointing out that there are only six of us so, what harm could we really do, even if we are Demons… Those two are discussing whether they should let us in or wait for the Guardcaptain who’s out on an expedition for the next few hours, at least…”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Tired of the indecision, I decide to employ a little reverse psychology “If there is no one currently present who has the authority to open these doors for us, we can return at a later time… we do not wish to inconvenience you!”
The attitude immediately shifts at the indirect slight.
The first one to speak speaks again.
“He requests the surrender of the sunsword and an agreement to be under guard, while inside the walls, as conditions for entry.” communicates Yasmin.
I look to Victor and ask “Is that amenable?”
Frowning, he addresses the men on the walls, Yasmin seamlessly translating for him “I want assurance that this sword will be returned to me, as IS, when I leave! Also, since it’s extremely dangerous to use and needs extensive certification to be licensed in, I’ll be locking it into its scabbard! You won’t be able to use it but please do not try to! If those terms are acceptable, I’ll give you my sword!”
Several of the men look disappointed, clearly having been excited to play with the, as stated, extremely dangerous weapon!
The self designated leader speaks again.
“He agrees… and says to open the gates.”
Victor removes his sword from his belt and locks it into the scabbard, as he said he would.
The gates swing open and several of the men come out to meet us.
“They’re all so… short!” observes Victor “…Don’t people born on lower grav worlds normally end up gainin’ a few centimetres from it?”
“Yes… but people born in preindustrial, rural agrarian societies tend not to have the proper nutrition and healthcare that we take for granted…” I point out, looking at the troop of men, only one or two of which are taller than I am!
“Fair point…” says Victor, handing over his sword to a man, who looks at what he now holds with an expression best described as ‘awe’(!)
I hold out my hand to the in situ Acting Commander and ask “We actually had somewhere we wanted to stop in, on the way to your leaders… perhaps you could help us find it?”
---Zuzana’s perspective---
I drop the jajonos meat into the cauldron.
I’ll take it to Babcia Kornelia’s place for Stefania, when it’s done.
My mind wars with itself as I watch the soup cook.
I don’t want to believe what the Bzowy told me yesterday! I can’t!
It’s not fair!
She’s five years old!!!
It wasn’t fair when Lukas was taken from me… but at least he lived!
He laughed! He sang! Drank beer! Had friends! Had children… and a wife who loved him!
Stefcia’s never going to get any of that!
Tears sting my eye’s and I feel the crushing weight of my husband’s absence.
“Lukas… where are you?… I need you! I can’t do this without you!” I whimper to myself.
I stir the pot, more for something to do than because it actually needs stirring.
Then my mind wanders to Pawel’s Demony…
My boy has always been honest (often to a fault… coming home with black eyes as the trophies of his honesty!) but… what he told me and the Bzowy yesterday… it can’t be real, can it?
I’d almost prefer my boy to turn out to have been a sinister liar or mad than what he said actually being true!
Four armed Demony taller than the ceiling?
A woman in armour that looks so heavy that a sturdy table would collapse under its weight?
The 2m+ man might have been put in his head by what I said to him earlier that day but… there’s no denying that he came home without the wood he’d gone to gather and with scratches all over his body!
At this point I hear a knock at the door.
“*sniff*… Coming!” I say, bringing my hand to my eyes to clear them of moisture.
I walk to the door and open it… then, immediately, freeze!
In the doorway stands a woman. The darkness of the skin of her hands and stunning face would suggest her to be a field worker (though from a much sunnier place than Malbork!)… In contrast, though, it's utterly blemishless and smooth like she's lived a life of pampered luxury!
She wears the single finest dress I’ve ever seen, made of beautiful, grassy cyan and golden cloth!
Her hair is covered with a chusta that matches her dress and she stands about 15cm taller than me!
Her husband, however, makes her look positively mundane!
The man is a literal, honest to Bogowie, giant!
Easily more than 2m tall, ghostly pale skin, hair like fire and eyes the green of new growth leaf buds, on Earth crops!
Though his arms, legs and chest are covered by his outlandish clothes, the power of his formidable physique is clearly evident!
This man… is the perfect match of the Demon that Pawel described, yesterday!
“Greetings…” smiles the blue clothed woman, her accent a little strange “…you are Mother’s Pawel?”
“…Err… Yes?… I’m Pawel’s Mother…?” I say, disorientated.
“Marvellous! My name Yasmin ‘Yellow Tongue’ Soltani… this name Victor ‘Hugging’ Taylor… we are here with the Ratunek…” she says, as casually as a neighbour announcing that they’re on the planning committee for the upcoming festival!
My stomach turns and my knees go weak… this is not good for the baby!
“I… err… need to… umm… I need to sit!… I think I might faint!” I say, woozily swaying forward.
I reach the point of no return but the man wordlessly catches my shoulders and, bending to fit beneath my doorframe, comes in and steers me to a seat at the table with irresistibly strong arms.
“Surri fer kamminin aninvaitid!” speaks the giant, once he’s sat me down, stooping so that his head doesn’t bang on the ceiling!
“My compatriot sorries for entering your house with no invitation.” smiles the beautiful woman.
“…’s fine…” I huff, recovering.
“May we seat?” she asks, pointing to a chair.
I gesture for them to go ahead.
The woman sits, gracefully.
The giant tests the chair with his hand, seeming suspicious that it won’t take his weight, before deciding to trust it.
As he sits, I notice for the first time what he was carrying on his back; two bundles of orangey yellow sticks tied with ropes I recognise.
“So… Mrs…?” prompts the woman.
“Zuzana…” I provide, still a little lightheaded.
“Mrs Zuzana!” she smiles “We come here to sorry for scaring your Pawel, yesterday! He ran without sticks so we bring them for you for him!”
“Rirli surri! Itwuz mai folt! Houp Ai diddun trorma’aiz im!” says the green eyed behemoth, placing the bundles on the floor.
“Victor is sorry. Saying it was because of him. He does not want to have frightened Pawel.”
“It’s… err… it’s fine!… Thank you for… err… bringing the sticks?” I say, stupidly.
“Pawel OK?” he says, using two words I know.
“Yes… he’s fine… the Bzowy listened to him… convinced him that you… err… might not actually be Demony? Told him what Neanderthals were… what guns were…” I say, a little perturbed by the woman speaking over me in an alien language, presumably for the giant’s benefit.
“Mamo? What’s the best way to…?” comes the voice of my eldest child as he lets himself in the back door.
That’s as far as he gets because, at that point, he sees who I’m sharing a table with.
“Pawel…” I smile, forcing myself to pretend that everything is normal and not that my entire reality is shattering around me “…Mr Victor and Mrs Yasmin just came to drop off the sticks you forgot, yesterday… Isn’t that nice of them?”
Pawel stands rooted to the spot for a moment… then charges forward, lunging to draw one of the sticks from the bundles that the pair delivered!
“Pawel, don’t!” I beg, horrified at what this man could do if angered!
He doesn’t hear me because he’s screaming “Don’t HURT her! DON’T you fucking DARE hurt her!”
He swings the stick at the man who must weigh four times what he does!
The man’s hand catches the stick, almost effortlessly!
He doesn’t look angry… more like… charmed?!
“Yuh breiv, keed!” speaks the smiling giant to my son who stands, frozen.
“You have courage, child!” translates the dark skinned woman.
“Bat yuh olsoh uh bit styuupid!”
“But you are also somewhat foolish!”
“Mai Sheefud sei, pikyuh battuws!”
“My teacher would advise, choose your fights!”
“Nohwen yuh kant win…”
“Be aware of when victory is not possible…”
“Noh wen faittin ent nessussuri!”
“Be aware when there is no need to fight!”
“Ai ent yuh enemi, keed…”
“We are not adversaries, child…”
“Kan wi bi frenz?”
“Might we be allies?”
At that, the giant man extends his right hand to Pawel in a very clear gesture of peace.
Pawel just looks at him for a moment, then runs from the house.
“Gochasewf ah fyuuchuh Nait in Shainin Ahmuh, ver!” chuckles the giant.
“Your son shall grow to be Hero, in times to come!” translates his wife.
“He’s as headstrong as his father was… but he has his father's kind heart, too!” I say, getting used to the woman speaking while I speak, to let her husband understand me.
The giant smiles but says nothing.
“Are…?” I begin then waver.
“Go ask, Mrs Zuzana!” smiles the gorgeous woman.
“Are you really here for the Ratunek? Are you really from the UTC?”
“We are!” grins the woman without translating for the man.
“Tell me… in the UTC… is there a way to cure… pneumonia?”