"That wasn't me, Gel," complains Kali.

"I know that, ye flippant thing," grouses Gelly. He continues, louder, "I do no like being called 'an interestin' specimen'."

"Fttpttbb-pop."

Tulson looks around but there are still only the three of them in this strange space. All around them the grass stretches into the distance. Only the standing doorframe breaks the monotony of the endless fields and sky.

"Can ye just speak trade common, ye damned ghosty!" Gelly's voice verges on being outraged. "Tully, beam this bastard that translation packet, already."

She enters a few quick commands onto her comm tablet. A white light flashes, and a cheery chirrup from her device announces a successful transmission. She keeps her device out, however, ready to be used again if need be.

The sky seems to drop closer to them for an instant, threateningly, before returning to its former lofty emptiness. Balance thrown off by the vertiginous sight of the sky receding, the three explorers sway where they stand. Kali grasps Tulson's armored shoulder for support, finding comfort in her solidity.

"But you are a remarkable specimen indeed, my dear fellow," a voice as large as existence booms from everywhere around them. The three flinch in unison and by unspoken agreement turn down the feed on their suits. "You bear the marks of one of our enemies. Scars on the tether linking you to their control. I believe you know them as Southern Tribals. There are definite residual marks upon the ethereal cord, bits of their influence that have scarred over."

"What are you talking about? Gel's as normal as, um," Kali falters in her defense. "Whatever. He doesn't-" She cuts off when Gelly shakes his head.

"It's alright, Kali. Let's see what they want first, eh?"

"The tribals don't seem very popular," Tulson interjects. "Is there anyone that does like them?"

"Ha! Oh, I like this one!" The voice loses its joviality before it continues. "Yes, it's their work alright, though their methods do seem to have gotten cruder over the millennia. There are also samples of Tserri hair on your unconscious bodies. From multiple individuals."

Stunned looks cover their gray faces. "Oh, don't look so surprised. My ship put you in stasis as soon as you walked through the containment barrier. Relax, I plan on letting you go. Once I'm done with you."

Tulson scowls, turning her head in search of the antagonistic speaker. "So is this some form of interrogation, then?"

"No. The technology that allows us to interface gives me full access to your thoughts and memories. Think of this as more of a mission briefing."

"And what might ye be wantin' us to do for ye?" His voice is tinged with impatience.

"I want you to go back to your ship, tell your boss you stopped the big scary drone world, and carry a big bag of treasure out of here. No, not that, but something close to it. Just the leaving part. Oh, and the bag, you can have that, too."

"That doesn't make sense. You're toying with us, admit it," Tuslon demands, shaking her fists in frustrated anger. "Why bother with all of this?" She waves around her at the desolate infinities around them, endless grasslands.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Honestly? It was interesting. Do you know how long millions of years is? They've had me trapped in there with them, practically forever. Run time as fast as you want, why not? There's plenty of energy pouring in from above, if you know how to catch it. Eternities. We've ran out of things to do. Our imaginations exhausted and each other's company repugnant.

"And what do we find when we return to real space? Bioweapons run amok. Those things were supposed to have died out after only a few hundred years. Their creators had assured us that there were built-in fail safes, autonomic suicide triggers in their cells."

The explorers are silent as the voice raves. Tulson activates the recording functions built into her comm, despite what she was just told. The disembodied speaker sounds insane. It could be lying to them about everything.

"But they're all dead now. So's everyone else, we find out. Fun. Just a bunch of savages playing Rockeaters and Saltfars in their place. You almost, almost qualify as civilized. And you don't even understand how your technology works! You just build it the way that works cause that's how you found it. It works, so why change it? Oh sure, there've been a few innovations over the generations. Nothing spectacular.

"It probably isn't even your fault. Well, not you three in particular. Your whole generation, as a collective. Not a single species we've run across has even close to caught up. You know who I do blame?"

Stunned silence answers it. The three officers look at each other, too perplexed to speak.

"Hey, this is where you say 'No, who?' Well, cast not, catch not. The tribals. I blame the tribals. From what we found in the ugly one's memories, it looks like they keep knocking anyone who tries down."

'The ugly one,' all three of them mouth silently. Two sets of confused faces turn towards Gelly. He does have a few scars. Maybe a squashed nose from one too many fights.

"Actually, I'm surprised you can function in society at all. Not because you're ugly. Lots of people are. No, I mean because of the damage the tribals did to your higher functions. The control spikes they use are awful. With recursive barbs hooked into your tether. Then whichever one you were attached to died in your proximity, shattering the hooks and driving them deeper into your psyche. That's not something most people can recover from."

Kali punches Gelly's shoulder. "He's a tough one, alright." Right where he had gotten shot on his last assignment. Her gauntleted fist rebounds harmlessly off his pauldron with a clank.

"They eat civilizations. The other tribes died out, thank all that is good. Just the Southern tribe managed to keep reproducing long after they should have went extinct. We're here. Wake up and get out."

All sensation cuts off. Silence. They wake up at the same time, lying next to each other in the cramped interior of an oddly designed shuttle.

Gelly stands up first and looks around. There's a piloting chair, as well as a long bench along one side. He finds a placard built into one wall of the shuttle. The back is split in the middle, still closed but obviously a door. He walks over to the sign.

He doesn't recognize any of the alien writing, but the small pictograms next to some of it helps him to figure out what it means. Little crude outlines of a creature with large pincers operates a small device to produce food. The same creature sits here and steers the vessel. In a different spot it pulls open a door.

In one final place, the image is shown with wiggles around it and spirals instead of eyes. A second half of the image shows the outline pressing a button, then raising one claw into the air. A help desk, maybe? Gelly calls Tulson's attention to the series of images he had found.

After having a quick look at it she checks her comm. "There's no recording of our captor. Either he erased it, which I should be able to find traces of, or he was telling the truth. Probably safe to trust this sign."

Not wanting to be left out, Kali presses the button next to the sign. They wait in anticipation, but nothing happens.

"Well, that was a bust," complains the scout. "Shouldn't it be telling us what that creepy voice wanted?"

The large screen above the pilot's seat activates. On it is a view from outside the small ship. Stars and blackness form the backdrop for a planet that takes up the center of the screen. The surface of the planet is crisscrossed with tall mountain ranges that separate wide swaths of green and brown morass.

The planet is getting bigger in the display. At Tulson's urging, Kali sits in the pilot's chair. She prods at the controls but finds them unresponsive. "Does the food dispenser work? I'm none too eager to try the door."