(Genesis) Chapter 5

Pride: Genesis

Chapter 5

Echoes of Beasts

Sven blinked the sleep from his eyes as he woke. His room was dark. The light had been on when he fell asleep, Jace must have turned it off. Sitting up without thinking, the navigator was pleasantly surprised when the nausea didn’t hit him as hard as it had the last time he’d woken. He stood up and turned on the light.

Looking around his quarters, he noted his unmade bed and began fixing it to military standards. He didn’t need any more sleep for the time being, and a made bed could make an entire room look clean, even if it wasn’t. Not that his room was dirty. Once the bed was made it was pristine, actually. Everything had a place and everything was in said place, even the smallish pile of books in the left corner. They were strewn about with sticky notes poking out of them, marking things for him to go back to later. Bookmarks marked the places he had stopped reading. They may have looked messy but they were anything but. They were in a particular order, dictated by genre and how much each interested him.

Walking over to the books, he selected the one on Norse mythology, a book he had read many times before. Sitting down next to the books he began rereading some of his favorite tales, ignoring the slight discomfort his stomach was causing. Which was easy. It had been much, much worse when they had jumped out of the rift. Sven was extremely grateful for the reprieve from vomiting. It was nice…

Just as he was really starting to lose himself in the stories, the door hissed open. It was Jace, carrying a tray with a sandwich and a steaming bowl of something. "Giant donut dude insisted on making you chicken soup…" That had been addressed in the general direction of the bed, and he trailed off as he realized his patient wasn't in it. "…why are you on the floor, barbarian."

Sven looked up, not entirely surprised. The medic had been hovering over him in the days since the rift—monitoring his vitals, feeding him toast, calling him names. Actually saying hello had been one of the first things to go. "Because I just made my bed, no sense ruining it. And chicken soup actually sounds wonderful."

"Of course you did." Jace looked at the bed, then back down at him. "I'm gonna guess this means you're feeling better?"

"I didn't throw up when I woke up." Sven stood and accepted the tray, then returned to his spot on the floor. "So yes."

"Definitely an improvement." Not for the first time lately, he was getting a very judgmental look. This time it was directed between him and the small desk against the wall. "…Know what, whatever makes you happy. Move your head for me."

They'd been through this exercise a few times lately too; Sven knew the drill. He slowly rotated his head both ways, once looking straight ahead, once keeping his eyes on the medic who was watching him carefully.

"No nausea when you do that?"

"No. I'm a little queasy but it's constant, and it's not bad at all."

"Queasiness isn't unusual. Last bits of the rift distortion clearing out. Or maybe it's because you've been living on toast for half a week." He checked his pulse and frowned. "Might be able to clear you today, and just in time for us to not be in hyperspace anymore. Hell of a way to get out of work."

"Getting back to work will be nice," Sven protested mildly. "I enjoy my job." He took a sip of the soup and closed his eyes for a moment. "This is amazing."

Jace snorted. "You've been off real food for awhile, so I won't even tell you why you're wrong." Finally he moved over to the chair and sat… and nearly went to the floor as one of its legs buckled under. "…Oh that's why you weren't using it."

"I would've told you but I was hoping you'd land on your butt."

The medic stared at him, then the corners of his lips twitched. "I like you when you're an asshole."

Sven rolled his eyes. "It happens on occasion."

With a snicker Jace dropped to sit on the floor next to him. "Rift sickness doesn't exactly relapse. It's looking good, but I'll need to give you a better checkup before I officially clear you, and there's no point doing that until you've eaten."

Apparently that meant he was going to have company for lunch. Truthfully, Sven didn't mind that. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe more to the point, someone who actually wanted to talk to him. He'd learned very early on that what was normal in the world his parents had brought him up in was not at all normal in the real world. It had always made socializing rather… awkward.

Being thrown together on a tiny starship was apparently a great way to get around that. Who knew?

"So how's the rest of the crew been?" he asked in between spoonfuls of soup. He had been shut up in here for awhile.

"They've been very… themselves." Jace scowled. "Giant donut dude refuses to get out of my galley. Commander said I can't boot him, which is too bad. He still needs a rectal exam to figure out what's stuck up there, but at least he's not causing any real trouble… did you catch that nasty turbulence earlier?"

Sven shot him a mildly reproachful look at the mention of rectal exams; he was eating. "No, I must have been asleep."

"Lucky you. McClain and the Chief are a horrible influence on each other."

McClain being a horrible influence didn't sound like a stretch. "How's that?"

"Engineering's been monitoring hyperspace since you've been in here losing your guts. Kleid saw a major fluctuation, told McClain to avoid it. McClain asked why his precious engines couldn't handle a little fluctuation, Kleid told him to shut up and take it at top speed…" He gave a dramatic sigh.

Sven chuckled. "Sounds exciting."

"That's a word. Not the one I'd choose, but it's definitely a word."

"What word would you use?" Immediately after asking he suspected he'd regret it, and covered with another bite of soup. It really was good.

Jace eyed him slyly, considering the question. "…Burro como o caralho."

That was more than one word, but it didn't seem worth pointing out. Sven gave him a much more reproachful look. "I don't even want to know what that means."

"Yeah, probably not." Jace laughed, then leaned over to look at his book. "What, you don't ever swear in Viking?"

Really? "Norwegian." Sven raised an eyebrow. "And no, I don't. Just because you can doesn't mean you should." Finishing up his soup, Sven took a bite out of his sandwich. "This is good too."

"Oh, good. At least someone here appreciates food that's made with some semblance of concern for your health." Jace shook his head. "Pretty sure Garrett just dumps in the whole box of salt, and don't get me started on the calories…"

"I have a good joke on calories!" Sven remembered excitedly. That earned him a doubtful look from the medic. "What is a light-year?" He smiled, waiting for Jace to guess.

"What? I'm a medic, not a navigator," he grumbled in protest. "It's… some punchline that's gonna get you punched?"

"It’s the same as a regular year, but with less calories." Sven laughed, very proud of his joke.

True to his word, Jace punched him in the arm. Lightly. Maybe not as lightly as he could've, but lightly. "Porra…" He made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Finish your sandwich, asshole. Boss wants you cleared so you can go find a map when we land."

Oh, right. Sven grinned excitedly and decided to forgo defending his joke, in favor of finishing his sandwich. "I almost forgot about that. I get to go find a map!"

"You're actually happy about that, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Crazy-ass Viking." Jace cocked his head. "Just don't get yourself beat up by some Terinian map-knights or anything."

Blink. "Terinian map-knights?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Seems like there oughta be something weird."

Sven chuckled. He'd done some advance research on their destination himself; it was part of the job. "The Terinians are a race that evolved from birds."

"Not weird. But doesn't mean they can't have map-knights." Jace scowled at him. "Just watch yourself out there, huh?"

"I will watch out for map-knights," Sven promised, shaking his head. He might have said something else, and if he hadn't his companion certainly would have, but before either of them could speak a violent shudder ran through the ship. As it died down, all sense of motion vanished; the turbulent forces of hyperspace were gone.

"…Guess we're in-system."

So it seemed. It would take them about two more days to reach Terina at sublight speeds, and that was two days Sven was eager to get started on. "Mind if we get this checkup over with?" He stood. "I'm itching to get back to work."

Jace gave him a sharp look. "Was that a metaphor? Because if you're really itching you might have bed sores and I really don't like you enough to have to look at your ass unnecessarily."

Sven rolled his eyes. "No, I am not itching. I just really want to get back to work."

"Oh, that's a relief." Jace stood as well, running through the battery of tests Sven was well used to by now. More head movements, vitals, some stretches meant to throw off his equilibrium. Nothing he couldn't handle, for once. "Okay, you're clear. Here's some basic meds for the queasiness, one every two hours as needed."

The queasiness really wasn't at all bad, but not having it would be better; Sven took the pills gratefully. "Thank you! Now if it's alright with you, I'm going to get back to my monitors."

"Knock yourself out." Smirk. "Figuratively."

Sven laughed and headed out, the medic trailing behind him. So far, so good. Now to see what Terina had in store for them.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

The spaceport on Terina was not actually run by Terinians. The locals hadn't even developed powered flight yet, let alone spaceflight… of course the fact that they were essentially giant birds might have something to do with that first part.

In any case, Terinians didn't have their own spaceflight, so their planet was connected to the outside universe by the Bataxi. Bataxi were small, clever saurians who worshipped a whole pantheon of commerce deities. They considered it their divine duty to provide primitive races with access to the interstellar community, should they so desire it.

Flynn hated having to deal with the Bataxi. It wasn't that they were unpleasant or difficult… it was just that their solemn invocations of the Great Merchant reminded him a bit too much of home.

A particularly tiny Bataxi with vivid blue scales was sitting on the counter at the maintenance station. The crest of silver horns told him she was female, and so she was in charge here; only the females could be merchants. A few dull blue males were scurrying about further back, working on what looked like a half-intact ion drive. He was a little surprised to see only the one female minding the station, but then, this wasn't a very busy port.

"Great blessings of Spex to you, traveler!" she chirped as he approached. "Earthling, so you must be from… Firecrown, landing field one, slot 6-J?"

Kogane hadn't been kidding about them sticking out. Flynn nodded, handing her a credit chip. "You got it. We need a full refuel and a type C fuel line." Pause. "Maybe not in that order."

She gave a clicking chuckle as she inspected the chip, then nodded in return. "The line is easily done. Will you need installation?"

"No, we've got that covered."

"Very good." She turned and looked over her shoulder, calling out in her harsh native tongue. One of the male Bataxi left the engine, vanishing through a door, and she returned her attention to him. "It will be delivered. As to the refueling, an inspection is needed."

As he'd expected. "Not a problem."

She nodded again, grabbing a datapad next to her with her tail and tapping in a few commands. "Twenty acha… no, Earthling, not Eakite, pardon it." A few more taps. "Half an hour."

Only half an hour? This might be the least busy spaceport he'd ever seen. "That's perfect, thank you."

She watched him carefully as he signed off on the receipt, then flipped the expended credit chip in the air. "Amulax sanctifies the end of this instrument," she declared, swatting it with her tail; it shattered into tiny fragments. Flynn grinned slightly. Destroying expended chips was one of the more entertaining Bataxi rituals. "May the Great Merchant bless all your transactions, traveler."

He muttered another thanks and left, exhaling slowly as he got back outside. That hadn't been so bad… back to business. "Kogane, we've got a fuel line on its way, and an inspector coming in half an hour."

"Understood. Will you be back by then?"

"I'll try, can't promise anything. Still need to arrange refilling the water tanks and a lot of other boring engineering things."

He could practically hear Kogane's eyebrow raise. "Boring engineering things?"

"They'd bore you." Smirk. "I mean if you'd really like a detailed list of all the basic maintenance a ship needs in port, clear your schedule for the next fifteen minutes and—"

"—That's alright. Do what you need to do, Kleid. Garrett and I will handle the inspection if you don't make it back."

Oh, he'd love to see that. "Alright." He flipped his comms off, looked around the spaceport, and shook his head. Time to go get the Great Merchant to bless their water supply.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Sven stood in the airlock, waiting for Lance to show up. The navigator looked patient and calm, but really he was anything but. He was inwardly buzzing with excitement. He was about to walk around on an alien planet. He had a job of course—this wasn’t a pleasure trip, he had to acquire a map somehow—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this greatly.

Intel at least had been able to come up with directions to a Terinian village near the spaceport, very near the edge of the mountains and the cloud cover that blocked out their site. It seemed like their best bet, surely someone on the ground had surveyed the mountains at some point. Surely they would have a map. This couldn't be that difficult.

He hoped it wouldn't be too difficult…

Taking a deep breath soothed his nerves slightly. Lance had seemed confident enough. It was one of the reasons Sven had asked him to come along; hopefully Lance’s confidence would offset his own nervousness. That, and their pilot seemed to be much better at interacting with beings that were not… politically inclined… than Sven was. Between the two of them, surely they could convince the locals to give them what they needed. He sighed and shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of any anxiety that had started to bubble up. Everything would be fine.

Checking the time, Sven’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. Where was Lance? They were supposed to depart three minutes—

"Hey Viking, ready to go get a map?" Lance asked, walking past him off the ship.

Following him down the ramp, Sven’s mouth quirked at the nickname. "Yes, I am." He made sure they were headed in the right direction, and after a few moments asked the question that had just been waiting to burst out of him. "If you don’t mind me asking, why do you call me Viking?"

Lance laughed. "It’s the broad shoulders, dude… und, vell, the obvious."

Sven gave a small laugh in response. "No, I know why you call me Viking, I meant why nickname me at all? My name’s only four letters. One syllable."

"Huh? That it is, don’t know…" Lance paused to look him up and down. "Viking suits you though, unless you don’t like it?" The pilot laughed as a thought struck him. "We could go with Thor instead?"

"No, I think Viking works just fine, thank you." Sven truly didn’t mind the nickname, he kind of liked it actually. He just didn’t quite get the whole nicknaming thing.

"Viking it stays… so Viking!" Lance winked. "Got a game plan?" Looking around at their surroundings as they walked, he gave a small smile. "Oh, whoa this planet really is pretty."

"Well… not much of one, no. Just ask around and hope someone has a map." Sven took a moment to look around. "And yes, this planet is absolutely beautiful."

"Okay…" Looking ahead of them Lance smirked. "Find a bird, charm a bird?" As he asked a shadow appeared in front of them, and he looked up to see a Terinian flying overhead. He tracked it for a moment, spinning around as he did so. "Fucking awesome."

"This is amazing… you never see anything quite like that on Earth." Sven watched the Terinian in awe.

"Earth is boring, this is amazing." Lance stopped walking, noticing a Terinian walking ahead of them. "WHOA."

The Terinian female in front of them was a good foot taller than them, her blue feathery wings seeming almost to sparkle; they were wrapped around a basket filled with some weirdly shaped brown fruit. For a moment all Lance could do was stare, transfixed, then grabbed Sven's arm in excitement.

"We could ask—"

"—Dude, they’re hot."

"Um… I… uh… yes. They are," Sven babbled awkwardly.

"Yeah, we should ask her." Lance sprinted off towards her, waving to get her attention. "Uh, hi?"

"Hello," the Terinian responded, looking up from her basket. Sven came up behind Lance, remaining silent.

"I’m Lance, and this is Sven. Um, is it rude to compliment your feathers?" Lance gave her a friendly grin.

"No it’s not. It’s actually quite welcomed. Thank you."

"Welcome? Huh…" Lance’s grin became more flirty. "Well, oh, but I’m being rude anyway, what is your name?"

"Mihaela, and I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch your names." She quirked her head at the grin.

"Mihaela." Lance tested it out, and was sure he butchered it. "Mihaela, that’s fine, I’m Lance McClain and may I say your plumage is beautiful."

Mihaela found the mispronunciation of her name entertaining. Her name was actually quite common among Terinians, so she’d never heard someone say it wrong… then her eyes widened as she realized he was wooing her. Well, the human version of wooing. Maybe? She should compliment him back. "Your… cloth is very nice." Peeking over Lance to look at Sven, Mihaela realized he hadn’t spoken. Was he mute? "Does your friend not speak?"

Lance stood up straighter at her compliment, glowing a little bit, then turned to Sven. "Thank you. Yes he does, don’t you, Sven?"

"Um… yes, I do. I apologize, pleasure to meet you, Mihaela." Sven inwardly scolded himself. He was being rude. And Lance was giving him the dude needs to loosen up side-eye he was fairly used to.

"It is nice to meet the both of you." Mihaela chirped happily.

"Actually, we were wondering if you could help us with something?" Sven asked, hoping they could get back to the matter at hand.

"What a great chirp!" Lance interjected at the same time. So much for that.

"Thank you!" Mihaela chirped for him again. She quirked her head once again, she had never heard that compliment before. Most of the males she was used to usually just admired her feathers, and offered to prune them. Humans had such odd mating rituals.

"No, thank you for sounding so lovely." Lance paused, remembering that flirting with the beautiful Terinian was a secondary mission. "Sven’s right though, we’re looking for something."

"I’ll help if I can. What is it?" she asked, shifting her basket to her side and holding it with one wing. Lance eyed the glittering feathers and resisted the urge to ask to touch them. There was a time and a place, and this wasn’t it.

"We’re looking for a map. Specifically a map of the northern mountains, beneath the clouds. Do you know where we could find one?" Sven asked hopefully.

Mihaela’s eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why would you want to go there? There isn't anything there but the old ruins."

Old ruins? That sounded promising. "We’re explorers, and we’re curious. We'd love to see these ruins, they sound interesting." Lance smiled. The best lies always had a bit of truth in them.

Interesting? Mihaela ruffled her feathers slightly, then smoothed them back out. Humans are odd. "Alright… well, if it’s a way to those ruins you're looking for, you’ll need to see Ioan. He knows all about those sorts of things." She made a sound that seemed like the chirped version of a pfft. "He lives slightly west of the village." She thought about warning them about Ioan’s… oddness, but the humans seemed quite odd themselves. They may not even notice.

"Thank you!" Sven smiled.

"Mihaela, I enjoyed meeting you." Lance smiled too, though his was decidedly more flirty. "Thank you for all the help."

"I have enjoyed meeting you as well." Mihaela chirped. The two men nodded and started walking away. "Oh, Lance! Before you go may I offer some advice?"

Lance turned around, the smile right back on his face. "Of course!"

"You are a very delightful man, well practiced in the art of wooing… but in the future when trying to win over a mate, you should sing or dance. And wear brighter colors. I find it helps draw their eyes to you," Mihaela offered helpfully.

Sven’s eyes widened; Lance just smirked. "Really? This is useful information, Mihaela. I’ll consider it carefully."

Mihaela just chirped cheerfully. Such a pleasant man, odd, but pleasant. She walked past the humans to continue on with her business.

Lance nudged Sven after she was out of earshot. "She liked me! Despite," he paused to look at his leather jacket, "my brown drabby-ness. Do you think they’d like 1980s rock ballads?"

"It seems she did. And I, um, I’m not sure." Sven shrugged. 1980s rock ballads were not his area of expertise.

"I’m sure they would…" He glanced at a few Terinians that were passing by, hazel eyes full of admiration. "You know, the pictures the Alliance has of Terinians really do not do them justice."

"No, they do not. They really are quite stunning," Sven agreed.

"Extremely… I need to learn birdsong, think they sell music?"

"I’m not sure, maybe we can ask Ioan," Sven suggested, trying to put them back on track again. "So, slightly west of the village." He checked the questionable map he had gotten from the Alliance records. Pointing in the direction he was semi-sure they had to go, he looked back at Lance and motioned for him to follow. "This Ioan man… bird, should be a little ways that way."

"Lead the way, Viking! Hopefully he’s as nice as Mihaela." Lance winked at him.

Both men kept in the direction Sven had pointed out, and soon they came upon an old trail that seemed to be going in the right direction. It was overrun by small shrubs, and obviously hadn’t been used in awhile. They hadn’t been on the trail long when they came upon a couple of run down wooden shacks, one looking just a tad less run down then the other.

"West of the village…" Sven looked around. "This should be it."

"Well, that hut looks empty, so it must be this one…" Lance reasoned, looking between the two. Sven nodded in agreement as he walked up to the door. After a short pause he gave a few hard and loud knocks. Almost immediately there was a small crash from within the hut, and a moment after that they heard someone through the door.

"Come in!" It was muffled, but still audible. Lance gave Sven a look before pushing through the door. Sven walked in right behind him… and practically squawked in horror at the room that was obviously sent from hell to haunt him for the rest of his life.

It was a small one-room shack with bookcases lining the walls, not that there were many books in them. Most seemed to be strewn about on the floor. Some had obviously ripped up pages. Some were in small unorganized piles. Others seemed to have odd colored gunk on them. In the center of the room there was a wooden desk, papers and journals covering its surface, and a plate dead center with what Sven hoped was just rotten fruit.

He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, repeating the action several times before a Terinian popped out from behind the desk. His green and brown feathers were askew, a few even flew off of him as he moved. His eyes connected with theirs for a moment before darting up and down to take in the rest of them.

"Oooooo Earthlings!" He flapped his wings excitedly, quite a few more feathers flying off of him in the process. "Hello."

Lance tried not to make a face at the mess, or the greeting. He looked the bird man up and down; all the Terinians seemed beautiful to him, but this guy was definitely on the more ruffled side of things. "Uh, yeah, we’re Earthlings. Hi, um, Ioan?" he asked, seeing as Sven was still silently recovering from the mess around him.

"Yes, that is me. And you two are?" Ioan asked, flapping his wings slightly.

"I’m Lance, he’s Sven… Mihaela thought you could help us."

Sven was still gaping at the mess when he was introduced, but seemed to snap out of it when he heard his name. Lance gave him a nudge, he was in charge of the map after all. Looking up, Sven gave the bird man his full attention. It was better than looking at anything else in here, anyway.

"Ahhh! Mihaela, such a nice woman. Brings me some of her crop every so often." Ioan once again flapped his wings happily. "I should really catch up with her…"

"Yes, she is lovely. We’re looking for a map, and she directed us to you." Sven said before the Terinian could go off on a tangent. He was still coaching himself to ignore the carnage around him.

"A map! To where, my dark-haired human?" Ioan asked excitedly.

"To the old ruins in the northern mountains."

Ioan's excitement rapidly gave way to confusion. "Hmph. Why would you wish to go there?" There wasn’t much curiosity in his voice. "It’s truly a very boring place."

"We’re explorers," Lance explained with a winning smile.

"Do you know how to get there?" Sven asked hopefully. They'd come for a map, not his approval—now I sound like Jace. He resolved to try not to ever do that again.

"Explorers? Oh how very exciting. And yes, I do." After he spoke Ioan just stared at them, not moving. Lance and Sven exchanged a look.

"So, um, do you have a map?" Lance asked after an awkward silence.

"To the ruins? Yes! I made one long ago," Ioan began shuffling around, opening drawers and flipping through various books, "but that was back before I knew how boring it was." He shook his head. Silly humans. Explorers were supposed to go to exciting places, not dull ones.

Lance took a deep breath, watching, and realizing this might take a little work. "What’s that book you’re…" Tearing through. "Reading?" he asked tactfully.

Ioan eyed him, seemingly annoyed. Or maybe he just thought they were stupid. "I am not reading." He rolled his eyes. "I am looking for that map. As I said, very boring, made it a long time ago. Not sure where…" After pausing for a moment his eyes widened. "Oh yes!" Picking up a very tattered-looking journal, the bird man ripped out a page from it. "Here you are." He held it out to them, nearly pushing it into the rotted fruit.

"Thank you." Sven sighed in relief and took the map, careful not to touch the fruit.

Lance eyed the fruit with a wary eye. Nasty. "So it was… interesting meeting you Ioan." He offered one more smile before turning to leave.

"Wait! Don’t you want to hear the warning I found on the entrance to the ruins?"

Lance eyed Sven, who was fighting down an audible groan. They were so close. "What warning?" He wanted to leave this shack, badly, but figured a warning was likely to be important. Possibly even more important than getting out of this mess… possibly.

"One moment." Ioan began scribbling on a black piece of paper, then handed it to them. Sven took it and barely held back another groan. Cai cu intanție rea vor fi pededsiți de fiae în nori. What was that? How was a warning in a language he didn't even remotely recognize going to help them?

"Achoo?" Lance mumbled, reading over Sven's shoulder. "What does that mean?" He was going to regret asking, he just knew it.

Ioan stared at him and gestured towards the paper. It was right in front of him.

Lance’s eye twitched but he kept his mouth shut. Sven intervened before he could change his mind on that. "Do you happen to have this in English?" he asked politely.

"Yes of course! I do speak English." Ioan’s feathers ruffled a little more than they already were.

Sven sighed. As annoying as this guy was, he was nowhere near as bad as some of the people he had been forced to mingle with in the past. That was how he managed to keep his tone polite even as Lance's grin became strained. "May we have it?"

"Yes you may." Ioan read it out loud as he wrote it down for them. "Those with evil intent will be punished by the beasts in the clouds."

"Beasts?" The word flew out of Lance’s mouth without thinking.

"Yes. Beasts." Ioan rolled his eyes once again. Humans. "Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do. You have your map, and your warning. Be on your way." The bird man made a shooing motion with his wings.

"Of course." Sven was glad to finally leave, as was Lance. Once they were clear of the door he was sure they were out of ear shot Lance grumbled, "Mihaela was definitely the better experience." Pausing for a moment a thought struck him, and he gave a small shudder. "I think he was molting."

"It was definitely an experience." Sven agreed. "That entire hut was…" He shuddered. "Disgusting. I feel like I need a shower."

"Was a mess, wasn’t it? And that fruit." Lance gave another small shudder, then laughed weakly. "Odd bird, that one, huh?"

"Definitely odd, yes, but at least we have a map. And an obscure warning, because what map to old ruins is complete without an obscure warning?" Sven laughed too.

"Speaking of which, that map look legit?" Lance smirked. "And isn’t it just a general map thing to have a dire warning?"

Sven looked down at the map, giving it a careful examination. "Yes it seems…" He paused, getting ready to try out the word. "Legit." Lance grinned at that, and Sven side-eyed him for his other question. "The maps I usually deal with don't have that sort of thing… well, they have warnings, but those are more along lies of 'this particular route includes a high risk of running into gravitational wells.' Not 'there are beasts in the clouds.'"

Lance shook his head at the word ‘beasts’. The only creatures around here so far were the Terinians, and they didn’t look all that beastly to him. Slapping a hand on Sven’s shoulder, he decided they may as well celebrate a job well done. "Well, that was a piece of cake, we deserve a beer."

"I’ve never had a beer," Sven said absently.

Lance turned to him, his smile replaced with shock and horror. "What?"

Sven shrunk back slightly. Oh no. Had he said something wrong? "I’m sorry, have I offended you somehow?" He always ended up weirding people out. Whether his mannerisms, the fact that he went to finishing school, or apparently how he’d never had a beer. It was always something.

But Lance looked confused at his apology. "What? Me? No, I’m offended for you! I thought Vikings got hair on their chests from grog or whatever, and you’ve never had a beer? Why? How?"

"You know I’m not an actual Viking right?" Sven asked, side-eyeing him again. "Beers were not an acceptable choice of alcohol at the political functions I’ve had to attend, and I just never drank much outside of those." The wine they served was the only thing that had made those events semi-tolerable.

"Political functions?" Lance gave a snort. "Now that sounds like something that is fucking boring."

"Very, very boring."

"Well don’t worry, I’ve brought enough beer to introduce you to it."

Sven looked at him, grinning excitedly. "I’m glad, I’d love to be introduced."

"I’ll hold a tutorial sometime, you aren’t the only one who needs lessons." He thought about Flynn—but at least he'd had it before. What was with this crew, anyway? Then again, what other mission would give him the chance to give beer lessons? "You know, getting put on an Explorer Team was kind of a goal of mine and it hasn't let me down yet."

Now Sven smiled wide. Finally someone as happy to be here as him! "Getting off Earth has been a wish of mine for a long time, and I have most certainly not been disappointed." Excitement had leaked into his voice.

Lance grinned at him and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Right? New worlds, beautiful aliens." He shot a wink at a Terinian with purple feathers as it passed them.

Sven awkwardly accepted the arm as the spaceport came into their line of sight. Once again his mind went back to the mission. "We should get this map to the Commander."

"Yeah we better. He can figure out if we dare ignore that warning," Lance smirked. Sven just smiled.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Inspections could vary radically between planets. Keith had heard horror stories. It wasn't like the Alliance, where you knew exactly what they wanted to check out before they ever set foot in your berth. Independent worlds each had their own concerns. One planet's contraband could be another's key import, and some authorities didn't care about your cargo at all—but emissions or fuel composition? That they cared about.

Intel said there was 'nothing substantially concerning' about Terinian inspection routines… whatever that meant.

The inspectors arrived precisely on schedule. Three of them were Bataxi, a deep indigo female with a pair of males flanking her. Trailing just behind them was what could only be a Terinian. It was easily seven feet tall—eight if you counted the huge wings folded behind its back, bright gold and shimmering in the sunlight. It was nearly as skinny as its saurian companions, though they only came up to its waist; the rest of its lanky body was covered in fine flame-orange down. Its sharp red eyes peered at them over a hooked black beak, and it spread its wings wide as it reached them.

"Greetings, Firecrown. I am Portguard Taeshalach, the Inspector General. We shan't inconvenience you long." Then it looked down at Keith and Hunk. "And warm greetings to you, children of the Firecrown. Might I know your names?"

It took them a moment to fully register that the Terinian had been talking to their ship. They exchanged glances, then Keith stepped forward and bowed; formality seemed like the right thing to go with here. "The Firecrown thanks you for your warm welcome, Portguard Taeshalach. I am Commander Keith Kogane, and with me is Senior Specialist Tsuyoshi Garrett."

Grimacing, Hunk looked between the ship, the bird, and the boss. He really hadn't expected to be part of this process at all, and was still none too sure how he felt about it. "…Uh, you can just call me Hunk." The boss gave him a look; he shrugged. "What?"

Taeshalach made a whistling sound that seemed to be laughter. Then he looked away a moment in response to a comment from one of the male Bataxi, responding in a wholly different language.

"Should I have hid the chicken soup?" Hunk whispered uneasily.

Keith blinked. "I think we should be okay, as long as they don't…" Then exactly what he'd just been asked fully sank in, and he glared. "Don't go there."

Hunk shrugged again.

The inspector finished whatever he'd been saying to the Bataxi and returned his attention to Keith. "Commander, you speak for the ship, then?"

"Yes sir, I do. I'm the…" He paused, trying to decide what exactly to say here. The Alliance's knowledge of Terinian etiquette wasn't much deeper than its knowledge of the geography. "…I'm the oldest of the Firecrown's children. If you would come aboard, we'd be happy to get this inspection over with so you can go about your day."

The Terrinian nodded, following them through the main hatch. "We understand you've requested a new fuel line."

"Yes, sir. We went through a spatial rift and lost one of ours."

"A rift?" He cocked his head and chirped softly. "Impressive. We get few here who are quite that… mad. Is it an Earthling tendency?"

"You've got no idea," Hunk muttered under his breath.

Keith glared at him again, mostly on principle; he backed off sheepishly and nearly tripped over the female Bataxi behind them. Yeah. Madness. Remembering Lance's laughter as they went through the rift, Keith couldn't much argue the point. But they really didn't need to tell the inspector that. "Some Earthlings do suffer from… madness, on occasion. But the rift reduced our travel time, and saving that time and fuel was important for us."

Taeshalach gave a knowing nod. "We respect efficiency. We were told your ship healers would be installing the line, but our friends from the Great Merchant must be allowed to watch, or at least to examine it when it is done."

Interesting. Interesting, but not objectionable, Keith supposed. Of course it wasn't his shoulder they'd be looking over. "I'm sure our ship healers can work with that. In fact…" Oh, what the hell. "…Hunk, here, is one of those healers. It won't be a problem, will it Hunk?"

The engineer looked much less than enthused with that, but at this point it served him right. An instant later he shook it off. "Uh, yeah, no problem! I mean, we totally know how to do a fuel line but it's always good to have someone double check."

"I mean no offense, Mr. Hunk." Taeshalach nodded seriously. "But we shan't be responsible for allowing a ship to leave our world without our full satisfaction that it will survive to its next destination. You understand."

Hunk understood, though he was a lot more worried about not cracking up at what the bird man had just called him. Even the boss was visibly biting his cheek to hold back the grin. "Yeah, totally understand!"

"Commander, if we might see the cargo bay first? Terina adheres to the Form 6 standardized contraband restrictions."

That really didn't seem so bad. Keith nodded. "Absolutely. Right this way, please." He led the group through the inner hatch, noting the inspector folding his wings around himself in the narrow corridor. Hunk trailed behind, taking more note of the female Bataxi; she was carrying some sort of scanner that looked more sophisticated than anything they had available. It worried him a bit, but he'd gotten in enough trouble already today, so he kept quiet.

The cargo bay was nearly empty. A neat stack of crates secured in one corner held some dry goods and spare parts, and the opposite corner held a few partitions, empty boxes, and an extra mattress. Taeshalach looked around the emptiness and unfurled his wings. "Traveling light, I see."

Keith nodded again—he seemed to be doing a lot of that, but it wouldn't help anything not to be agreeable. "We like to keep our ship weight down. Helps with fuel efficiency on takeoff." He had said they respected efficiency, after all.

"Indeed." The inspector's red eyes fixed on him. "What precisely brings you to Terina, Commander? You clearly aren't a trader, and this is hardly a leisure craft."

That was a question he'd been expecting. Obviously the truth was right out. "Humans are a very curious race," he explained. "Mainly we're out here charting and looking for local maps. There's still much we aren't fully familiar with out here in what we call the Rim. With better maps and star charts, we hope to be able to conduct more trade and travel in the future. If local races are open to it, of course."

It was a lie, but maybe it wasn't that much of one. They were called an Explorer Team.

"Ah, I see." The inspector shook his feathers slightly. "It has been some time since a surveyor ship from your Alliance came to the port." As he spoke he leaned over to study the labels on the crates, motioning for the Bataxi to scan them.

Keith couldn't quite read that tone, and the feather shake could mean anything. "I do hope the last surveyor ship didn't upset you and your people…"

"I recall them being most polite. But rushed." He straightened. "All seems to be in order here. Now, there must be food storage? You understand we must check any storage areas. And then we'd like a look at your engine bay."

A very nervous look flickered over Hunk's face for a moment. Keith shot him a warning glare. If he said anything about chicken soup… "Yes, we understand. It's off our galley, and we will stop at the engine bay after that. This way, please."

As he trailed behind them, Hunk thought he heard something further back in the corridor. Glancing back he couldn't see anything, but… this whole inspection routine was unsettling, and the boss didn't seem to like jokes, and he'd be really glad when it was over.

Keith opened up the cold storage as soon as they reached the galley, and the inspector stepped back immediately. "Ah… Elgani, if you'd attend to this…" He wrapped his wings tightly around himself and retreated further as the Bataxi moved forward.

That wasn't good. "I'm sorry, sir… is... something wrong?"

"It's nothing, Commander. We are meant to keep our wings in the sun."

"Ah." He hadn't even thought about that; he needed to be more careful. "I apologize."

They were interrupted by the Bataxi, flicking her tail as she investigated the storage lockers. "Your murder pepper sauce isn't very well-hidden. I assume you don't mean to survey any Form 4 or 7 planets."

Keith blinked, then exchanged uncomfortable looks with Hunk, who'd gone rather pale. "No ma'am."

"Or at least we sure ain't now."

She chuckled; it was an odd clicking sound. "Altensi be with you if you do." There was a pause as something she was carrying beeped softly. It wasn't the scanner. "Portguard, my brothers require me." She handed the scanner to the inspector and scurried out past Hunk.

Keith looked after her curiously. He knew of the Bataxi, but he'd never encountered one in person; his prior postings had all been on warships, and Alliance combat vessels had little cause to stop at independent spaceports. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her, let alone her disappearance. It made him a bit nervous… but he didn't have any experience with civilian inspection routines, either. He wasn't going to say anything.

In any case Taeshalach took it in stride, only ruffling his wings slightly as she departed. "The engine bay, then. Only for a scan; I leave the mechanical inspections to our friends from the Great Merchant."

"This way." Keith led him back to the bay, keyed in the access code, and winced at what he saw. Either as part of the system rerouting or in preparation for the fuel line, it seemed the engineers had ripped a lot of the floor up. "I apologize for the mess… apparently the ship healers have been busy." He glanced back at Hunk, who shrugged again.

The inspector rustled his wings again. "We respect nests which are filled with activity. I shan't judge what you call a 'mess'. In fact, your healers keep it quite lovely compared to many vessels we've seen here."

Blink. "Well… thank you. They do take pride in their work."

"We try," Hunk chuckled, then grinned and dropped his voice. "And we're gonna remind you of that forever, boss."

Keith grimaced, watching the Terrinian scanning the bay. "If you have any questions, Hunk is more than able to answer them." That got him a deeply unappreciative look that definitely served him right at this point.

"Mr. Hunk, might you open the shafts for me?"

"Uh…" It was still all Hunk could do to maintain the pout the was aiming at the boss instead of cracking up; he hurried over to the engine shafts. "Yeah, sure!" That's right. Stick to the engines. Definitely where you need to be inspecting. "Anything else you wanna know?"

"I think not. The Bataxi will be better suited for such questions. All seems to be in order here…" The inspector's comms beeped, and he clicked his beak sharply.

It didn't seem like a pleasant click, but this was an alien, who knew? Hunk eyed him warily. "So is that a good beep your scanner's makin'?" Please be a good beep…

Taeshalach gave him a piercing look he didn't like at all, but his response was unexpected. "When we return, what lies on the other side of the cargo bay?"

Blink. "Uh… it's just the crew rooms and the conference room. And the bridge, obviously."

"Obviously." He ruffled his feathers. "Elgani is reporting a troubling reading from there. We need only check where the scans are indicating a problem, but we must see."

"Oh… of course." Keith nodded, then gave Hunk a look of concern. For his own part Hunk had a bad feeling about this… he'd thought he would be relieved once they got out of the bay, but apparently not so much.

All three of the Bataxi were gathered outside the conference room door. "Inside of here," Elgani declared as they approached. "The voice of Xor whispers grave concerns."

Xor? Hunk had no idea who or what that was, but he suspected he knew what the problem here was. From the boss's expression, so did he.

"Commander, may we see?" Taeshalach's words may still have been formal, but his tone made it clear enough it wasn't a request.

Keith nodded and opened the door, revealing the conference room. And the bloodstain. And the epitaph on the wall.

Well, hell.

"Organic," Elgani declared as she approached the stain with her scanner, then she raised her head. "You have… ripped Bob?"

Well, double hell.

The inspector unfurled his wings, giving them both a sharp look. "I trust one of you can explain this?"

Hunk looked at the boss, who seemed frozen. Looked like it was up to him, then. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Firecrown's gotta eat too…"

Unfortunately, Keith hadn't been as frozen as he'd thought. At the exact same moment he answered solemnly, "My… older brother… met an unfortunate end some time ago…" He trailed off, scowling at a wincing Hunk, then decided maybe the truth was just as simple after all. "…to be perfectly honest we don't know anything about that. It happened before we were with the Firecrown. Someone just thought it would be funny," he glared at Hunk again, "to write that on the wall in hopes that whoever met their demise would rest in peace…"

"Maybe it was the last inspector who asked too many questions?" the big man suggested under his breath.

Mercifully, neither of the inspectors seemed to hear him. Even more mercifully, Elgani had been running more advanced scans as they stumbled over each other; now she looked up and flicked her tail. "Portguard, it is petroleum-based. I believe it is Earthling hydraulic fluid."

Keith closed his eyes as Hunk let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, good."

The Terinian looked between them and made a confused whistling sound. "Commander, Mr. Hunk… I shan't even attempt to make sense of what you've told me about this. If you would consent to the Bataxi inspecting your floor here, to ensure the leak is no longer active, I believe this inspection is concluded to our satisfaction."

"Earthlings' imaginations can get… carried away," Keith offered weakly. "But yes, they're welcome to. Aren't they, Hunk?"

"Totally." Hunk nodded. "But uh, any chance they can do it like, right away? Pit boss—uh—the boss healer ain't gonna like hearin' that whoever had this ship before us sprang a hydraulic leak in here."

Taeshalach folded his wings again. "I see no reason why not."

Elgani gave a clicking chuckle and barked something unintelligible at the two males; they scurried in and pried up the floor panels with practiced claws. Hunk gave a low whistle of surprise, and Keith made a mental note to never, ever anger a Bataxi.

"All is well," Elgani declared after a few minutes of checking the lines. "Xor smiles upon this vessel."

…I assume that's a good thing, if he's smiling. Keith nodded hesitantly. "Um, thank you. I hope he continues to do so."

She flicked her tail again as the males returned the floor panel to its place. "We will return with the fuel line to look over the installation. Until then, may the Great Merchant bless all your transactions, Earthlings."

"I shall depart as well, then." Taeshalach made that whistling laugh again. "Commander, Mr. Hunk, I wish you success in your surveying project."

"Thank you."

"Thanks, and uh, happy port-guarding!"

Keith waited for them to be long gone, listening for the echoing thuds of both hatches closing, before sinking into one of the chairs and exhaling deeply. Hunk looked down at him and arched an eyebrow. "Your older brother, huh?"

Wince. "I was under duress."

"First thing you come up with under duress is a dead brother? Dude." Hunk dropped into the chair opposite him. "You're a cheery one, ain't ya?"

Oh no he didn't. "How about you? Hiding the chicken soup, saying we're all mad, never mind the last inspector who asked too many questions! We could be sitting in an alien prison right now if that had been real blood."

"…Dude, I ain't used to dealin' with aliens." He blushed. "And I was kinda under duress too, was sure they were gonna find my bombs there while they were checkin' out the bay."

Keith blinked, then muttered a few choice words under his breath. "We probably could have passed those off as self defense, at least… you hid them?" Of course a civilian ship carrying military explosives would raise questions, but he'd figured Hunk could answer them.

"Boss, you got any idea what I'm haulin' here? Octanitrocubane ain't self defense! ONC is for bringin' the booms!" He paused for a moment. "And uh, it's totally restricted under Form 6."

That was something he really would have appreciated knowing before now. Apparently their bomb tech was far more devious than he let on. "Well it's good that they didn't find them, then."

"They weren't gonna. I know my job, boss." He grinned, then shook his head. "Hydraulic fluid. That ain't fun. Maybe the old line's name was Bob."

Keith stared at him for a very long moment before giving in and chuckling. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well, anyway, guess we're all set until the fuel line and the pit boss get here." Hunk leaned back in his chair. "…You want some chicken soup?"

Glare. "Get back to work, Garrett." He wadded up a tissue and tossed it at him.

"Fine, fine." Hunk caught the tissue and sulked. "Well I am gonna eat lunch first. Your loss!"

"You do that. And if you see Kleid before I do, tell him to come see me. I'd like to have some words with him about Bob."

"Will do, boss!" Hunk jumped up and shot him a casual salute, then took off down the corridor.

Keith closed his eyes, savoring the silence for a few moments. He wasn't especially pleased with his performance today; his previous assignments hadn't at all prepared him for this sort of thing. You're going to have to get the hang of it. Quickly.

Sighing, he took out his datapad and started searching for a briefing on port inspections.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

The Forest of Altair was an enormous expanse of wilderness, stretching from the mainland of the Seven Isles into the neighboring Crown Province, ending in the shadow of the Castle of Lions itself. Legend had it there was a hidden road somewhere, connecting the Seven Isles' royal manor with the castle, but it could no longer be used. For reasons.

There were many legends around the forest.

Larmina had grown up hearing the stories. Tales of monstrous beasts roaming the forest, hunting down anyone who dared encroach on their domain. Banewolves, they were called… huge, cunning predators twisted from normal Arusian forest wolves during the War of Golden Revival. Nobody knew exactly how or why they'd come to exist. They only knew they rendered the forest off limits to any Arusian, and those who attempted to hunt down the banes of the forest never returned.

She'd been very young when she'd first snuck out to the forest, hoping for a glimpse of the mythical creatures. What did she care about danger? Adults said everything was dangerous. She'd spent hours wandering through the trees, watching and listening for any sign.

No banewolves.

That was the day the forest had become her secret sanctuary. If everyone else was frightened off by legends, that left it all for her. And right now she needed to be somewhere, anywhere, that could pass as a sanctuary.

Dining etiquette class had gone… poorly.

Keep your shoulders straight!

Don't use a knife to cut your bread!

That fork is only there for decoration!

Know what? Bite me.

Nanny had nearly chased her out of the room.

Maybe—no, probably—she should've gone to see Aunt Allura about it. But Auntie was surely busy with something important, and surely wouldn't want to hear more of her opinions on all this royal nonsense, so the forest it was. She could say she was working on her royal mystery again.

She wasn't.

"Stupid duty," Larmina grumbled, kicking a few dead branches aside as she forged through the trees. "Stupid title. Stupid responsibilities. Stupid Big Fat Arusian nobility…"

Nothing with Nanny was going well, really. Admittedly, she wasn't trying all that hard. It wasn't fair. She knew what she was, and she knew her place—no claim to anything, no value of her own. Just a pretty little political pawn to be married off to some good Son of Arus. Fine. The grand noble tradition of Arus wanted her to be a trophy? She didn't have to make it easy. In fact, she was sorely tempted to find the mythical forest road and just go home right now.

As the thought crossed her mind, a wind whispered through the trees. Larmina had always been calmed by the wind. But something about this wind was different… a deep, low growl was echoing beneath the rustling of the leaves.

A banewolf? It would just figure that they'd be in this part of the forest. But somehow, she didn't quite think so. The growl seemed to penetrate her whole body, echoing in her chest in a way that was somehow both inviting and deeply unsettling.

Whatever thoughts she'd had about finding the road seemed to simply flutter away on the breeze.

What was that? Some kind of omen? She wasn't certain if she believed in such things, no matter what King Alfor had said. But she wasn't fully certain she wanted to tempt fate right now, either—no more than she already was. Maybe she would go find Auntie after all…

"Stupid royal forest not being any help at all," she grumbled, and the wind whistled again. As she reached the edge of the trees, she turned back and glared into the darkness for a few moments. The forest failing to comfort her felt like a personal betrayal, somehow.

That growl echoed again. She didn't like it.

Golden Gods, or whoever you are, if you're trying to send me a message? How about you get me out of this stupid ball first, then we can talk about… whatever else.

Scowling, she returned to the castle.